Split (1)

train · 64k rows

id stringlengths 4 8	title stringlengths 0 255	metadata dict	text stringlengths 0 12.6M
10741674	If I Cant Have You	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Armitage Hux, Phasma (Star Wars), Kylo Ren, Ben Solo, Matt the Radar Technician, Reader", "Fandom": "Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by Fandom_Trash235", "chapters": "7/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-27T00:00:00", "words": "13,732", "Additional Tags": "Fluff, slight nsfw, Female Reader", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Ben Solo & Reader, Matt the Radar Technician & You, Kylo Ren & You", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Y/N walked quietly through the long hallway and into the kitchen of the apartment she shared with the Organa-Solo triplets. She had made a stupid decision last night and hoped that no one was home to see it. Last night she had gone to a party at Phasma’s with Matt, Ben and Kylo. She had had a few drinks, which is what ultimately led to her momentary lapse in judgment. Unfortunately for her, the boys had come back to the apartment earlier that day; it was now about two in the afternoon. They were all sitting at the kitchen table, Hux was with them, they all seemed to be eating lunch and talking. Once Y/N entered the kitchen they all shut up as they saw what she was wearing, which wasn’t much. Y/N stood in the doorway of the kitchen dressed only in a pair of black lace panties and a red satin housecoat that had slipped just enough to reveal her cleavage. Of course they couldn’t see the panties, so for all they knew she was naked under the housecoat. “Oh, um hey. I didn’t think you guys would be home already…” Y/N trailed off as she poured herself a glass of water, trying to act as casual as possible. “Yeah, we got back about two hours ago. We didn’t think you were home. We lost track of you at the party.” Ben said, not taking his eyes off of her form. “Where did you go?” Matt asked as he took a sip of his orange juice. “Uh…” Y/N was about to explain when they all heard a door open and close. “Hey, babe, I’m off. Last night was fun. Give me a call some time. Nice to see you guys again.” A tall dark haired man said as he poked his head into the kitchen, nodding to the men at the table and then leaving. It was Jason, Y/N’s ex. Y/N placed her face in her hands as Jason left. “So the question wasn’t where did you go but more who did you do….” Kylo scoffed as he glanced over at Y/N. An awkward silence had fallen over the room. Y/N and Jason had broken up when she found out he had cheated on her with some girl from their literature class. “I really don’t feel like talking about this.” Y/N said as she grabbed her glass of water and walked back to her room. The men all looked at each other. They remember how that relationship had ended, with a screaming match and a crying Y/N. Even Hux had been there. They had all been hanging out at the apartment when Y/N and Jason had walked in; they had starting yelling at each other right in the middle of the living room, not noticing they had an audience. Matt, Ben, Kylo and Hux had been too afraid to move. The fight had ended with Jason storming out and Y/N running off to her room. She cried for a week, the boys had trouble convincing her to leave her room. Thirty minutes later Y/N heard a knock on her door. “Go away.” Y/N said as she rolled over in bed. Kylo opened the door and walked into the dimly lit room. She hadn’t opened the curtains or turned on any lights. Obviously nursing a hangover. Kylo closed the door behind him. “Y/N” He said in his low baritone voice. “Not now Kylo.” Y/N replied as she yanked the sheets above her head. “Yes now. What were you thinking? Don’t you remember how he treated you?” Kylo asked more firmly as he sat down on her bed. There was a long silence before he heard Y/N sigh from underneath the sheets. Y/N poked her head out from beneath her nest of blankets and pillows. “I was really drunk… And lonely…” Y/N started, she could feel the tears of embarrassment start to well up. Kylo sighed as he pulled his legs up onto the bed, lying down beside her. He turned so he was now facing her, he could see she was tired and that she didn’t have the energy to argue. He reached an arm over and pulled her to him. “Just because you are lonely does not mean you have to go back to that asshole.” Kylo said, his voice muffled in her hair. Y/N sighed. It wasn’t just that she was lonely and drunk. She was jealous. That night at the party she saw Ben making out with some girl he had most likely never met before then. Y/N had developed feelings for Ben, but she was afraid to tell him. She knew his playboy nature. After her relationship with Jason, she couldn’t risk it. She was still hurting. She had downed a few shots after seeing Ben. It was then that she had seen Jason. It hadn’t taken much convincing to get him into bed. She was angry with Ben and she was angry with herself and most of all she was still angry with Jason. At the time she figured it was a good idea, trade in one for the other. Both Jason and Ben were tall and had dark hair. They were both womanizers. Only in the morning did she regret her decision. Y/N and Kylo stayed like that for some time, Kylo holding her close while Y/N replayed the night in her head, guilt and disgust sinking in. “You should take a shower and come grocery shopping with us. You know if we let Ben go on his own we will be living off of frozen pizzas and chips for a week.” Kylo mumbled, releasing a yawn. Y/N had almost dozed off, if it weren’t for the nagging guilt. “Ok.” She said as she untangled herself from the eldest triplet. She had changed into an oversized sweatshirt after the incident in the kitchen. “Are you wearing my sweatshirt?” Kylo asked as he watched her walk to the door. Y/N looked down at the garment. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I just grabbed it from the laundry basket in the living room after leaving the kitchen.” Y/N said, her voice a little low and indifferent. “It’s ok. You can keep it. I have two others like it.” Kylo said as he got up off the bed. Y/N smiled a little and opened the door. She walked down the hallway to the end of the hall where the bathroom was located. She opened the door and as she did so she heard a startled yelp and a thud. Y/N looked up and noticed long legs dangling over the edge of the tub. Ben groaned as he got back up, rubbing his head. Y/N immediately put a hand over her eyes. “I am so sorry Ben! I didn’t think anyone was in here!” Y/N burst out as she attempted to leave with her eyes shut. “It’s OK kid.” Ben said with a smirk. She could hear the cockiness in his voice. Y/N’s face had flushed with embarrassment. Ben had grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. Y/N slowly opened her eyes and looked up at Ben who had now exited the tub and was leaning over her, a cocky grin plastered on his face. Y/N swallowed thickly, trying not to let her eyes wander down his form. “Like what you see sweetheart?” Ben cooed as he winked down at her. Y/N’s eyes widened. Ben laughed and walked off down the hallway to his room. Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Ben all throughout her shower. She couldn’t stop picturing him kissing that girl. She also couldn’t help but think about how good he looked in that towel, skin glistening from the water. She felt a familiar ache growing between her thighs. She began to lather up with soap; one hand slipping further down her body as her other roughly groped her breast. Just as she was about to slip her hand between her thighs there was a loud knock on the door, dragging her out of her fantasy. “Hurry up Y/N! We’re almost ready to go!” Matt yelled from outside the door. “Fuck.” Y/N muttered as she rinsed off, turned the water off and grabbed her towel.Y/N had gotten dressed and ready to go in a hurry, her hair still wet from the shower. She had grabbed a pair of leggings and a hoodie from her closet and pulled them on as fast as she could. She walked into the living room where the boys were waiting on the couch. “Let’s go.” Y/N said as she grabbed her purse from the arm of the couch, where she had left it last night as she and Jason had made their way through the apartment. Matt coughed slightly, awkwardly looking away. “What?” Y/N asked as she looked at the three men. “We, uh, found this on the TV and these by the couch.” Ben said with a smirk as he held up a black lacy bra and a pair of men’s boxers. Apparently her purse was not the only thing she had left in the living room. Y/N quickly snatched the items from Ben’s hands and brought them back to her room. “Alright, now let’s go.” Y/N said with a glower, her voice low. Grocery shopping with the triplets was always entertaining. Matt and Kylo usually had the most self-control and the most patience; Ben on the other hand had none. He hated grocery shopping to begin with, usually just throwing random items of food into the cart so they could leave as fast as possible. He usually chose frozen pizzas and other frozen meals with a few fruits and vegetables thrown in “for balance” as he would say. As they entered the large grocery store, Matt assigned tasks to everyone. “Alright, I will cover dairy. Ben you can cover snacks, but throw some healthy ones in there. Kylo you can go after fruits and vegetables. Y/N you can go for wheat and meat products.” Matt commanded as he passed each one of them a list containing the food items they were to get. Each one grabbed a basket from the pile near the door and set out for their tasks. Y/N was walking through the bakery when she received a text, her phone making a slight ping sound. It was an unknown number, but judging by the content of the text she could tell whom it was. It was Jason. She decided to ignore it, if she didn’t reply he would get bored and go find some other girl. Once again she felt a sense of disgust rising in her chest. She couldn’t believe she had allowed herself to stoop that low. Y/N was currently standing in front of the bread section, gazing at the bread, trapped in her own thoughts. Ben had seen Y/N from the snack aisle; he had picked up some chips, some popcorn, some granola bars and some fruit snacks. He noticed she had been standing and staring at the bread for some time. He decided to make his way over and see what was up. Y/N mustn’t have heard him approach as she gave a start when she heard his voice from behind her. “Hey kid! What’s up? Tough bread selection?” Ben joked as he nudged her shoulder. “Uh…yeah.” Y/N said, still gazing off. “What’s up?” Ben asked more seriously this time. Y/N didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to tell Ben of all people what was going on. He was the reason she had made the stupid mistake in the first place. Him and her jealousy and anger. She looked up at Ben and gave him a big smile. “I think I’m still a little hung-over” Y/N lied as she grabbed two loves of bread and shoved them in her basket. “Damn, how much did you drink last night?” Ben asked, eyeing her up. “I had two beers when we got there and then I had a few shots. I can’t actually remember how many shots.” Y/n mused as she continued down the bakery section of the store, grabbing some pizza bread from one of the bins and placing them in a bag. “Well, I’ve covered snacks. Do you want some help getting the rest of the stuff on your list?” Ben offered, extending his hand to see the list Matt had given her. “Sure, thanks Ben.” Y/N smiled as she handed him the list. Y/N finished up in the bread aisle while Ben went and fetched the various meats Matt had written down on the list. They met up with Kylo and Matt and then proceeded to the checkout. The ride home was a quiet one. Kylo sat in the front with Matt while Y/N and Ben sat in the back seat. As they pulled in the driveway, Y/N let out a yawn and stretched her arms. “How about we watch a movie tonight?” Matt suggested, cutting the engine and opening his door. “Sounds good.” Ben said as he opened his own door. Kylo grunted as he got out of the car, Matt took that to mean “yes”. “I think I have some homework to do. I really need to finish it before class on Monday.” Y/N said as she got out of the car. “Alright, if you want to take a study break we will be in the living room watching a movie.” Matt said as he grabbed some bags from the trunk of the car. The groceries were put away and the boys were now in the living room, lights out, watching some action movie they had popped in the DVD player. Y/N was in her room; she had her headphones in, listening to her study playlist while she typed up a paper for her history class. She was sitting on her bed, laptop placed on her lap-desk. She had a glass of water in the cup holder and some gummy bears placed in the pencil holder. Her homework had taken her mind off of everything that had happened. The movie had ended half an hour ago; the boys had each gone to bed. The apartment was dark. Y/N had left her room to go get another glass of water. As she silently made her way down the dark hallway that led from the bedrooms to the living room, unable to see anything clearly, she ran into something warm and slightly hard. She heard an oomph come from whoever she had run into. Blinking, she tried to make out who it had been. “Hey sweet cheeks. Not done studying yet?” Ben whispered as he tried to make out her shape. “Uh, I just finished actually. I was on my way to get another glass of water before I turned in.” Y/N whispered back, now able to at least make out his shape. “Alright, well goodnight doll.” Ben said as he ruffled her hair. “Night Ben.” Y/N replied as Ben walked around her and back towards his room. Y/N had gotten her water and walked back to her room, slowly so that she wouldn’t walk into anyone again. Her eyes had adjusted some to the darkness but it was still difficult to make out shapes and a little disorienting. She fumbled around down the hallway, looking for her room. Once she made it, she opened the door, walked across the room, placed the cup on the desk and lay in bed. Or what she thought was her bed. She was so exhausted from the day’s events and from worrying so much about what had happened the night before that she barely registered the sound of breathing coming from the other side of the bed. Y/N drifted off into a peaceful sleep. Ben woke up and immediately noticed that there was something off. He was too warm, much too warm. He only slept with a light comforter; he should not be this warm. He also registered that his arm was not resting on the soft mattress but on something else, something that was breathing. Ben groggily opened his eyes, he was lying on his side and as he looked forward he saw a mass of Y/H/C lying beside him. His arm was slung across the smaller form that hadn’t stirred since he woke up. Ben was confused to say the least. He didn’t remember Y/N coming to bed with him. Suddenly Y/N rolled over to face him and Ben froze. Y/N slowly opened her eyes, blinking at the light that had come in through the curtains and was now illuminating the room with a soft glow. “GAAAAHH” Y/N yelled as she pushed herself away from Ben, effectively pushing herself onto the floor. There was a soft thud as she landed. “What the hell!” Y/N screeched as her head popped up over the side of the bed from where she sat on the floor. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” Ben said lazily as he looked at her from the bed. Y/N suddenly realized what had happened. Ben’s room was right beside hers. She must have miscalculated in the dark and came in his room instead. “Oh, oops.” Y/N said, more to herself. Ben raised his eyebrows. “It’s not that mind the company, I don’t. But you could at least wine and dine a guy before getting into bed with him.” Ben winked as he sat up in bed. Y/N rolled her eyes, her cheeks pink from embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to sleep in your bed. I got disoriented in the dark last night on my way back from the kitchen. I must have come in here instead.” Y/N quickly explained as she got up from the floor, untangling herself from the sheets that she had dragged down with her. Ben smirked a little as he saw her struggle. “Here, let me help.” He said as he swung his legs over the bed and reached out to help here. They attempted to get the sheets untangled from her legs. Suddenly, Y/N slipped on part of the sheet that had gotten under her feet, she tried to balance herself by grabbing onto Ben. Unfortunately this did not work. Y/N fell forward, landing on top of Ben who had fallen back on the mattress. Y/N’s blush had intensified as she looked at Ben. Their noses were practically touching. He had his arm wrapped around her waist; he had tried to catch her as she fell. Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat. Ben smelled like the cologne he wore but also like fresh linen and something that could only be described as Ben, it smelled like campfire and petrichor. Ben smiled and then started to laugh. Y/N loved it when he smiled, the way his entire face lit up, it made her face warm up. Ben sat back up, causing Y/N to effectively straddle him. He reached for her legs and began to untangle the sheets once more. After he was done he grabbed her by the hips and placed her neatly back on the floor, her feet landing on the cold ground. There was a sudden knock on Ben’s door. “You OK in there man?” Matt’s voice rang out through the room, slightly muffled through the door. “Yeah, everything is fine!” Ben called back as he rose to his feet. They could hear Matt walking back down the Hall. His room was across from Y/N’s, beside Kylo’s room. Ben walked to the door and opened it, checking the hallway. “After you.” Ben said as he gestured to the now open door. Y/N walked out of Ben’s room and back to her own, a blush still tinting her cheeks. Ben walked to the bathroom to take his morning shower. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It had been a week since the bedroom mix up incident. Ben had not mentioned it and neither had Y/N. Y/N had decided to put all her energy into her schoolwork for now, at least until the semester break. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by trying to figure out her feelings for Ben. Only three more weeks until the break and until then Y/N would have to avoid Ben as much as possible. At least that’s what she figured would be the best way to deal with things for now. If she didn’t see him as often or talk to him as often as she usually did then it would be easier. Y/N was currently in the library on campus, working on a study sheet for an exam she had at the end of the week. She had left early that morning and hadn’t told anyone where she was. To her relief, when she took a break from studying she realized just how much work she had gotten done. If she were lucky she would finish tonight and go home and pass out. She took a granola bar out of her backpack and unwrapped it. Taking a bite she closed her eyes and tilted her head back in her chair. It was quiet at the library, not too many students. The ones who were there had either fallen asleep or were studying so intensely they ignored the world around them. Y/N was jolted out of her calming trance as her phone began to vibrate on the table in front of her. She received a few glares from some of the other students. She picked up her phone and unlocked the screen. Checking her messages she saw a new text from Kylo. “Wondering where you went. Gonna have a movie night tonight, wanna join?” The text read. Y/N sighed; she knew that if they were having a movie night Ben would be there. But on the other hand if she declined yet again Kylo would know something was up. She never really missed movie night, at least not two nights in a row. She had refused last week, opting to do homework instead and also as an excuse to avoid Ben. Y/N debated for another while on which course she would take. “Sure, I have to finish up some studying first. I should be back around eight tonight.” Y/N wrote back. She sent the text, set the phone down and returned to her studying. Kylo sat in the living room, cell phone in hand only half paying attention to what his brother was saying to him. Ben was sitting on the other side of Kylo on the couch. Ben had been going on about some girl he had met at Phasma’s party. Kylo had tuned him out a while ago. “So it doesn’t look like I will be here for the movie tonight. Carla asked me to come over.” Ben winked at his brother. Kylo let out a grunt and rolled his eyes. Ben got up and grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch. “Can’t say when I’ll be back.” Ben called out as he left the apartment. Kylo ignored him. Instead he scrolled through his messages on his phone. He had one from Phasma and one from Y/N. He checked the one from Phasma first; she was inviting him to a party this upcoming weekend. Kylo typed back that he would be coming and that his brothers would probably be there too. Next he checked the messages from Y/N, she had agreed to come to movie night. Kylo heard a door close from down the hall. Matt walked into the living room; he was wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants and a light grey t-shirt. “What movie are we going to watch tonight?” He asked as he flopped down onto the couch, letting out a long yawn and stretching his arms. “I thought we would let Y/N decide when she got here. Ben left to go meet some girl so it will just be the three of us tonight.” Kylo said as he shrugged his shoulders. “Cool.” Matt replied.Y/N had just finished up at the library. It was only seven thirty and that gave her plenty of time to get back home. She packed up her bag and put on her jacket. Most of the people had left the library already. As she stepped outside she could feel a cold breeze in the air. The sky was also dark with clouds. It looked to be on the verge of raining. Y/N quickly made her way to the bus stop. Just as she reached the shelter it began to pour. She only had to wait a few minutes for the bus to show up, grateful that she didn’t have to wait in the cold and rainy weather. Her bus stop was five stops away. As she waited she put in her headphones and listened to some music. There were not many people on the bus, mostly students who had been on campus. Finally the bus stopped at the end of the street where Y/N lived with the boys. She got out, lifting her bag above her head to avoid the downpour. She jogged from the bus stop to the apartment building; they lived on the bottom floor. Their apartment was actually more of a townhouse layout, the patio faced the front of the building; it was a small lawn with a gate surrounding it for privacy. She fished her key out of her jacket pocket and unlocked the door. She quickly made her way inside, dropping her bag on the floor. Her pants had gotten a bit wet and so had the back of her shirt and jacket. “I’m home!” Y/N called as she took off her shoes and jacket. Y/N walked into the living room, Kylo and Matt were sitting on the couch and watching TV. “I’ll go change into some dry clothes and then we can start.” Y/N said as she passed the boys on her way out of the living room and down the hall to her room. “Ok, we waited for you so you could pick the movie.” Kylo called out. Y/N got to her room, closed the door and began to take off her clothes. She tossed them into her laundry basket and walked over to her dresser. She picked out an over-sized button down shirt and a pair of track shorts. She slipped these on and grabbed a blanket and a pillow from her bed. She walked back out into the living room and plopped down beside Matt. “What do you want to watch?” Matt asked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Pulp Fiction!” Y/N declared, smiling up at Matt. Kylo smiled, getting up and finding the DVD, Matt rolled his eyes and laughed. They all settled back into the couch once Kylo had popped the DVD into the DVD player. Y/N hadn’t noticed that Ben was not present until halfway through the movie. She looked around, not seeing him. Kylo glanced over at Y/N, noticing her looking around the living room. “He decided not to join us tonight. Went to spend the night with some girl he met at Phasma’s party.” Kylo said. He noticed Y/N’s face fell a little. He had always figured Y/N had a thing for his brother. He felt a little sad for her. Kylo knew the shit his brother got up to with women. He didn’t want to see Y/N get hurt. To tell the truth Y/N had grown on him, he saw her as a little sister and would do anything to protect her. By the end of the movie Matt and Y/N had fallen asleep on the couch. Kylo looked over at the two. Y/N had fallen to the side, resting her head on her pillow, which she had placed on the armrest. Matt had practically fallen on top of her, one arm wrapped around her torso and the other hanging off the side of the couch. Kylo got up and took the DVD out of the player and placed it back in the case. He nudged his brother awake. Matt squinted as he woke up and his eyes adjusted to the darkness. It was still raining heavily and it could be heard throughout the house. Matt untangled himself from Y/N and the blanket. Y/N stirred a little, not actually waking up. Matt stretched and walked back to his room. Kylo picked Y/N up and brought her back to her own room, placing her on the bed. He went back to the living room and grabbed her pillow and blanket. He brought these back to Y/N’s room. He placed the pillow by her head and he draped the blanket over her still sleeping form. It amazed him how much of a deep sleeper she could be. He closed the door behind him as he left her room. Kylo walked back to his own room, he changed into some pajamas and went to bed. The next morning was chaos. Kylo and Matt both had early morning classes and could be heard fighting over the bathroom. Y/N had woken up when she heard Matt yell at Kylo from down the hall. She got up and opened her bedroom door. She looked towards the bathroom. Matt was in the process of trying to shove Kylo out of the bathroom, which was of course useless. They were both pretty strong. Y/N rolled her eyes and walked down the hall. As she made her way to the kitchen she saw Ben asleep on the couch. He had come in early in the morning and had passed out on the couch. He looked absolutely exhausted. His shirt was rumpled, a hickey was forming at the base of his neck and his hair was absolutely wild. Y/N felt a pang of jealousy. She stalked off to the kitchen to grab some breakfast. Kylo and Matt had finally settled their bathroom fight and had entered the kitchen for some breakfast. Y/N was sitting on the counter eating some cereal. “Morning.” Matt mumbled as he grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and a cup of juice. “Morning.” Y/N replied around a mouthful of cereal. Kylo had taken a seat at the kitchen table; he had also grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, taking a large bite. Everything was quiet as the three sat in the kitchen and ate. Ben stumbled into the kitchen, shuffling to the fridge and opening the door. He grabbed a bottle of powerade and began chug it like his life depended on it. Kylo and Matt stared at their brother while Y/N tried her hardest not to look at him. Ben finished half the bottle and then put it down on the counter. He heaved a large sigh, wiping his hand down his face. “Did someone have a good night?” Matt smirked. Ben glanced over at him, a shit eating grin on his face. “Yeah.” Ben replied as he began to rummage through the fridge. “I have to go. I need to study.” Y/N said quickly as she excused herself, placing her bowl in the sink and leaving the kitchen. Y/N returned to her room. She changed into a t-shirt and jeans, grabbed her backpack and books and booked it out the front door. Y/N stayed on campus most of the day. She went to the few classes she had and then spent the rest of the day in a café on campus. It was a small, quiet place. She had put her headphones in and concentrated on getting her work done. Unfortunately she couldn’t concentrate for long. Her mind kept retuning to the way Ben had looked that morning. She wondered if he always looked like that after sex, disheveled and an absolute mess. It was a good look for him. Her mind then wandered to other things. Like how Ben would look, sweating and panting in the after glow of sex. She then imagined what he would look like leaning over her, her hands tangled in his hair. She felt that familiar warmth begin to pool between her thighs. This is when she caught herself. She shouldn’t be thinking such things. She had promised herself that she would concentrate on school and not on Ben. She returned to her studying with some difficulty. After an hour she walked up to the counter and ordered some dinner. It was getting late and she would eventually have to return to the house. She knew Ben didn’t have classes on Mondays. It was highly likely that he would be home. She ate her dinner and studied some more. She stayed there until closing time. Afterwards she wandered around campus for a while. She couldn’t possibly study anymore. Her head hurt and to be quite honest she was tired. She eventually found herself at the bus stop. She waited about twenty minutes for the bus. As she got off at her stop she took her time walking to the apartment. She could see the lights on. It was almost eleven. The boys were definitely home. Y/N walked up the steps and unlocked the door. She tried to be as quiet as possible, hoping that she could slip into her room unnoticed. She crept into the living room but no one was there. She could hear some noise coming from down the hall. Y/N crept down the hall; all of the doors were closed. She got to her room and placed her bag on the ground. It had been a long day and she really needed a long hot shower. She grabbed her towel from behind her closet door and walked to the bathroom. She knocked lightly on the door but there was no answer. She went in, turning the light on. She placed her towel on the hook behind the door. Y/N stripped off her clothing and turned on the shower. She waited for the water to get hot before getting in. Y/N tested the water and, finding it to her liking, stepped in. The steam slowly filled up the bathroom. She let the hot water run over her body. She stood there for a while, not thinking or moving, just relaxing. She reached up and massaged her neck. After being hunched over a desk for the past two days she had the worst neck ache. Once she had finished massaging her neck she reached for the shampoo. She poured some into her hand and began to massage it into her hair. It felt nice, like she was relieving all the tension, her headache slipping away. She let out a satisfied sigh. Y/N then rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. Next came the conditioner, she massaged it into the ends of her hair and closer to the scalp. She left the conditioner in while she grabbed her shower pouf and lathered it up with soap. As she dragged the pouf along her arms, she began to think once again about Ben. It wasn’t long before her thoughts returned to his tousled hair. She then recalled how he had looked coming out of the shower. His body glistening with water. Y/N whimpered, she passed the pouf over her chest. As she did so she began to massage her breasts. It felt nice, almost as if she were relieving some built up tension in her body she didn’t even know was there. She continued to massage her right breast as her left hand travelled lower, abandoning the pouf to the shower floor. Her hand flitted across her stomach, feather light touches. She pictured Ben, his plump lips. She imagined kissing those lips, maybe giving them a soft, playful nip. She thought of how his hands would roam her body, his large, strong hands. They would grip her breasts, massaging them. He would then tease her nipples. Y/N’s hand dipped lower. She began to circle her clit with her finger. She bit her lip, holding back a moan. She teased her nipple with her other hand. She began to circle faster around her clit. She then dipped a finger into her core and then another. She pumped herself while her thumb circled her clit and her other hand worked her breasts. She was so close. Y/N was startled when the door to the bathroom swung open, bouncing slightly off the wall. “Sorry kid! I couldn’t wait any longer. I really have to go.” Ben announced as he walked into the bathroom. “It’s fine. I was just finishing up.” Y/N said, trying to make her voice as light as possible. She groaned internally. She rinsed herself off and turned the shower off. “Um, Ben. Could you pass me the towel?” Y/N asked as she stuck her head out from behind the curtain. Ben had been leaning on the sink, leg bouncing up and down. He grabbed her towel from behind the door and handed it to her. She reached out and took it. She disappeared behind the curtain, wrapping herself in the towel. She pushed aside the curtain, avoiding looking at Ben. She could feel his gaze on her. She shuffled out of the bathroom and back to her room. In the bathroom Ben’s gaze lingered on the door. He suddenly remembered why he had barged in in the first place and then closed the door. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Yet another week had gone by, slowly; Y/N had avoided Ben less and less. She realized what she was doing was silly and that she should just deal with the fact that Ben was going to be around, she lived with him for heaven’s sake. It was just about nine in the morning. Y/N walked into the kitchen. She didn’t have any classes until the afternoon but she figured she could get some more studying done and maybe go get a coffee before class started. The apartment was quiet. Matt and Kylo both had early classes on Tuesdays. Y/N figured they must have left some time ago. She grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and set it down on the counter. She then grabbed a box of cereal from on top of the fridge and poured some into the bowl. She opened the fridge and got the milk out. Y/N poured some milk onto her cereal and then grabbed a spoon from the drawer as she put the milk back in the fridge. She sat down at the table with her breakfast. She was about halfway done with her cereal when Ben stumbled into the kitchen. He was barely awake as he rummaged through the fridge. He pulled out a jug of juice and poured some into a glass. “Morning.” Y/N said from her seat at the table. Ben turned around and looked at her. “Morning.” Ben replied and then yawned. “Aren’t you up a little early? I mean, don’t you have class at like five tonight?” Y/N asked as she got up from her seat and rinsed her bowl out and placed it in the sink. “I have a project to hand in before class.” Ben answered as he drank the last of his juice. “Oh.” Y/N said as she left the kitchen wand walked back to her room. She entered her room and sat down at her desk. She turned on her laptop and opened an essay she was working on. It was due by the end of the week and she was almost finished. She decided to turn on some music while she worked. She hooked up her iPod to the dock on her desk and put the device on shuffle. Ed Sheeran’s Shape Of You came on. Y/N began to type away. Ben had left the kitchen shortly after Y/N. She was walking down the hall when he heard the music begin to play from Y/N’s room. He stopped and listened to it for a second and then opened the door to his room. He could hear the music playing faintly through the walls. Ben lied down on his bed. He was still waking up. Ben was not the morning type. That’s why he had scheduled most of his classes in the afternoon. As he listened to the song his thoughts began to wander and soon he fell back asleep. About an hour later Ben jerked himself awake. He stared around in confusion. He had been having a dream but he couldn’t quite remember what it was. It was then that Ben realized he had woken with an erection. He thought it must have been a good dream, whatever it was. Ben listened to see if someone was home, he was going to make a dash for the shower and take care of his little issue in there. The house was quiet. Ben creaked his door open and looked both ways down the hallway. The coast was clear and Ben grabbed a towel from off his closet door. He walked quickly to the bathroom and opened the door. He closed it behind him and turned on the shower. He hung his towel across the sink and took off his pajama pants and t-shirt. His cock was still at full attention. He stepped into the shower and let the water run over him. He reached a hand down and began to stroke himself. He started of with slow strokes, building the tension. Soon he was stroking faster, almost there. With a few more strokes he came to his release. Ben rinsed off and then grabbed the shower gel and soaped himself up. After rinsing off the soap he washed and conditioned his hair. He then turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, Ben grabbed his towel and dried off, wrapping the towel around his waist. He opened the door and smacked right into something solid. Ben lost his balance and fell. Ben lifted himself up and realized what he had run into. It was Y/N and she was currently lying beneath him. He had knocked her over on the way down. As Ben looked down at her an image flashed before his eyes; it was Y/N lying beneath him, there was a sheen of sweat on her skin and she was moaning. Ben remembered his dream. “Shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to.” Ben blurted as he got up. He clung to the towel around his waist, which had slipped when he fell. He reached down and helped Y/N get up. “It’s fine, I’m not hurt or anything.” Y/N said as she straightened her shirt out. Ben gulped; he couldn’t get that image of her out of his head. “Well, uh, I’m gonna go get dressed.” Ben said as he made his way around her and walked back to his room. Y/N raised her eyebrow as she watched him go. She had never seen Ben act so nervous. She shook it off and went into the bathroom. Ben didn’t know what to think about his dream. It confused him. He had never really thought of Y/N in that way. Ben sat on his bed in his room, the towel still wrapped around his waist. After a few more minutes Ben decided not to think about it anymore. He figured it was just a fluke, a one-time thing. It most certainly did not mean he had feelings for her; it was just a dream after all. Ben got up and got dressed. He decided to go over his project one last time before heading to campus and handing it in. Y/N had left the bathroom and gone to get her backpack from her room. She gathered her things and put it all in the bag. She grabbed a sweater from her closet and left her room. He closed her door behind her and walked down the hall. Ben was still in his room. Y/N left the apartment and headed for campus. Once she had reached campus, only having to wait a few minutes for the bus to pick her up, it wasn’t packed this time around and there were fewer stops, she headed for the campus coffee shop. There wasn’t that long of a line. As Y/N waited she saw Kylo standing in line with Matt. “Hey guys!” She called as she waved her hand. They turned around when they heard her. Matt smiled and waved. Kylo just simply waved. Once they had all ordered and gotten their coffees they sat down together at one of the spacious booths. “How was class?” Y/N asked as she sipped on her coffee. “Boring, as usual.” Matt replied as he set his own cup down on the table. “Mine was less boring than usual. The professor has us working on a new project.” Kylo stated as he took the lid off of his cup and took a sip. “Why are you here so early? Don’t you have class in like an hour?” Matt asked, wrapping his hands around his cup. “Yeah, I was actually doing some school work back at the apartment. Figured I could use a break and come get a cup of coffee before class.” Y/N explained as she took another sip of her drink. “Was Ben up when you left?” Kylo asked nonchalantly. “Yeah, he was in his room. He was actually acting kind of weird.” Y/N commented as she looked over at the boys. Matt quirked an eyebrow while Kylo’s face remained impassive. “What do you mean?” Matt asked as he raised his cup to his lips and gingerly took a sip. “Well he accidentally knocked me over when he was coming out of the bathroom. He got all weird about it, like he was nervous about something and then left in a hurry to go get dressed.” Y/N recounted. Kylo narrowed his eyes a little but quickly regained his composure. Matt laughed and took another sip of his coffee. They talked for another while before the boys left to go home. Y/N got up and left shortly after and headed to class. When Matt and Kylo had gotten home Ben was just about to leave to hand in his project. “Hey, you guys done for the day?” Ben asked as he grabbed a jacket from off the back of the couch. “Yeah, we actually ran into Y/N on campus before we left. We sat and had some coffee.” Matt said as he set his bag down beside the couch and took off his orange vest. “Oh. That’s nice.” Ben said as he shrugged on his jacket. Kylo looked at his brother, Y/N had been right, he was acting weird. Ben left for campus and Kylo and Matt each went to their own rooms. Matt decided to play some videogames before starting in on his homework, his way of unwinding after a long day. Kylo on the other hand had decided to get his work out of the way. He wanted to have a little chat with Ben when he got back. Y/N had finished class and decided that tonight she would head home, since she no longer saw any reason to avoid Ben. Besides he wouldn’t be home until later. As she walked into the apartment she saw Kylo lying on the couch, watching some history documentary. “Hey, how was class?” Kylo asked as he looked up from the TV. “It was Ok, nothing too exciting.” Y/N said as she took off her sweater and shoes. “C’mere.” Kylo said as he held up his arm and made space for Y/N to lie down on the couch next to him. Y/N smiled and walked over to the couch. She lied down next to Kylo and he wrapped his arm around her. They stayed like this for a while, the documentary had finished and a new show on marine life had started. Both of them had begun to doze off. Y/N let out a small yawn; Kylo shifted slightly and pulled her closer. An hour later Ben walked in. He set his bag down and kicked off his shoes. He then noticed Y/N and Kylo together on the couch. He couldn’t quite place it but he felt some sort of emotion build up in his chest. It wasn’t quite anger but rather something else. He frowned as he walked over and turned off the TV. They remained sleeping on the couch, the living room lights had already been turned off. Ben walked to his room and shut the door. He still hadn’t been able to place the feeling. He undressed and got into a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. Upon returning to his bedroom he realized what it was that he was feeling. Jealousy. Ben had never really felt jealous before. He didn’t know why he felt jealous and this troubled him. Ben turned off the light and climbed into bed. He eventually drifted off to sleep, still confused. Y/N had woken up in the middle of the night. She was a little groggy as she awoke. She knew she wasn’t in her bed. But she couldn’t place exactly where she was. She felt something warm and solid on her back. She craned her neck and saw Kylo sleeping soundly behind her, one arm still draped around her waist. She laid her head back down and fell back asleep. Later that night Kylo woke up. He watched as Y/N slept in his arms. He then shifted and sat up. He slowly got off the couch, careful not to disturb her. He picked her up in his arms; she stirred but didn’t wake. He brought her down the hall to her room and opened the door. He placed her on her bed and covered her with a blanket. He then returned to his own room and went back to sleep. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Y/N sat in her room, her door hung open slightly. She had her iPod hooked up to the speakers in her room. Hallelujah was playing softly in the background as she typed up a paper for one of her courses. None of the boys were home. It was the perfect time to get some work done. She was hoping to get all caught up so she could take the entire weekend to relax. She was so fixed on her paper that she didn’t hear the front door open and close. Neither did she hear the footsteps down the hall.Ben had come home early from class. He heard music playing from down the hall. As he made his way to his room he noticed Y/N’s door open. He walked up and peeked in. Her hair was up in a ponytail; she was wearing track shorts and a t-shirt. She was sitting at her desk and typing furiously on her keyboard. Ben stood there for a while and watched her. Ever since he had remembered that dream he had developed some mixed feelings towards Y/N. They had been roommates for quite some time. He thought of her as part of the family. He had never really thought of her as a potential girlfriend or even someone he would go out with; it was just weird. But then everything changed. Now he didn’t know how to feel. Ben cleared his throat. Y/N jumped in her chair and spun around. “Oh! Ben, it’s just you. You startled me.” Y/N let out a sigh of relief. “Yeah, uh, I came home early and heard the music playing.” Ben explained as he leaned on the doorframe. “Is it too loud? I can turn it down.” Y/N said as she turned back to the iPod. “No, that’s fine. It’s nice.” Ben replied as he pushed himself off the doorframe. “Oh, ok.” Y/N said as she glanced back at her computer screen. “Well, uh, I’ll leave you to it then.” Ben scratched his head as he turned around and left. As he walked back down the hall Ben heard La Vie En Rose playing from Y/N’s room. He opened the door to his own room, dropped his bag on the floor, shut the door and walked over to his bed. Ben sat down at the edge of the bed. He could still hear the song playing through the walls. Ben let out a sigh. He didn’t know what he was going to do. Kylo was sitting in a bar on campus. Phasma and Hux had joined him. It was their usual after class ritual. They would meet up at the bar and de-stress after a long day. Kylo watched the other patrons of the bar, lost in thought. “Earth to Kylo. Are you still with us?” Phasma asked as she waved a hand in front of his face. Kylo snapped out of it and returned his attention to his two friends at the table. Hux merely raised a brow and took a sip of his whiskey. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been out of it lately.” Phasma stated as she gave Kylo a look of concern. “I bet it’s that roommate of yours.” Hux mused as he put down his glass. Kylo glared at Hux. Hux smirked in return. “Well? Is it?” Phasma pushed as she took a sip of her martini. “Yes.” Kylo admitted, glaring into his beer. “Let me guess. You have feelings for her.” Hux drawled as he watched Kylo. The dark haired man sighed and lifted his glass only to put it back down. “Maybe.” Kylo mumbled. Hux and Phasma smirked. “So why don’t you do something about it?” Hux asked as he flagged down a waiter to order another drink. “Ben.” Was all Kylo said as he took a swig of his beer. Hux ordered another whiskey, finishing what was left of his first. “So your brother likes her too?” Phasma pressed. Kylo wasn’t the type to be very open about his feelings or his private life. “No. She likes him. She just can’t see what an ass my brother is when it comes to women.” Kylo spat as he took another swig of his beer. “Ah.” Was all Phasma had to say. “Why don’t you grow a pair and just ask her out.” Hux said as he rolled his eyes. Kylo glared at him, gripping his glass of beer. “Hux does have a point. You should at least give it a try. I mean, unless you want your brother to have his way with her. And we all know how that will end.” Phasma said as she took another sip of her martini. Kylo sighed. He knew exactly what would happen. They would go on a few dates; Ben would eventually grow bored and break up with her or string her along if only for the sex and then drop her. “Honestly Kylo, just ask her out and if it goes well then good. If not, then at least you tried.” Hux noted as the waiter placed Hux’s glass down on the table. “He’s right” Phasma murmured as she glanced at Kylo. He merely sighed and finished his beer. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Kylo said as he grabbed is jacket. Hux gave Phasma a look. They both knew what was coming. Kylo was never one to act rashly. When Kylo returned to the apartment he noticed Ben was sitting on the couch. The TV was on and there was a bowl of chips sitting on the coffee table. “Hey, where have you been?” Ben asked, glancing over at his brother and then back at the TV. “Out with Phasma and Hux.” Kylo replied as he placed his jacket over the back of the couch. “Do you know of Y/N is home?” Kylo asked as he took off his shoes and placed them near the door. “I think she went out.” Ben answered, his eyes glued to the TV. “Oh, well when she comes back can you tell her I need to talk to her?” Kylo said as he walked past his brother to the hallway. “Talk to her about what?” Ben asked, his attention now solely focused on Kylo. “I just need to talk to her.” Was all Kylo said as he walked down the hall and into his room. Ben frowned as he turned his attention back to the TV. He knew his brother all too well. Something was up.Y/N had come home fairly late. The entire apartment was dark when she returned. She shrugged off her coat and shoes, walking into the living room. There was an empty bowl on the coffee table, the only light coming from the small button on the TV; indicating that it was off. Y/N trudged back to her room. She silently opened the door and closed it behind her. She turned on her bedroom lights and got dressed for bed. She then turned off the lights and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up above her head, drifting off into a deep sleep. Y/N awoke the next morning to the sounds of an argument coming from down the hall. She poked her head above the sheets and listened for a while. It sounded like the boys were having an argument. Y/N sighed and pulled the sheet back up. She didn’t have any work to do or classes; given it was the weekend. She decided to wait until the argument had simmered down before she got out of bed. With the covers pulled up over her head she could barely hear the noise the boys were making. She soon drifted back off to sleep. About an hour later she heard a knock on her door. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Y/N turned over in bed and peeked over the covers. There was another soft knock on the door. “Come in!” She called as she sat up in bed. The door opened and Matt walked into the darkened room. “What’s up?” Y/N asked as she stretched out. Matt turned on the ceiling light, Y/N winced a little at the sudden brightness. Matt sat in her desk chair, swivelling it towards the bed. “Have you been asleep all morning?” Matt asked as he looked her over. Her hair was dishevelled and she was still in her pyjamas. “Yeah, I have nothing else to do today so I figured I could sleep in for once.” She replied and let out a small yawn. Matt nodded as he looked around her room. “Do you want to watch a movie tonight? It will probably be just the two of us. Ben and Kylo had a fight this morning.” Matt asked, folding his arms across his chest. “Yeah I thought I heard something this morning. What was it about?” Y/N asked as she pushed the covers off herself and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Matt glanced down, not knowing if he should tell her. The fight had been about her, he knew it, but Kylo and Ben had not come right out and said it. It had started when Ben asked Kylo what he had wanted to ask Y/N the previous night. Ben had pushed it too far when he teased Kylo about when he had caught them sleeping on the couch together. Kylo had then made a snide comment by asking Ben why he should care when he had so many other women at his disposal. That’s when the yelling had started. The two had gone their separate ways and Matt hadn’t seen them since. That had been about three hours ago. Matt glanced back up at Y/N. “They were arguing about Ben drinking out of the milk carton.” Matt lied. He didn’t want her to know what’d really happened. He was worried it would ruin the dynamic they all had together. The longer she was in the dark, the better. Or so Matt thought. “Oh. So then I guess it will be just the two of us tonight.” Y/N replied. Matt smiled and left the room. Kylo had left the apartment and gone to a small bar off campus. It was another of his usual haunts where he would drink with Hux and Phasma after class and sometimes on the weekend. Kylo had called Hux as he had left the house and had asked him to meet up. He was currently nursing a beer as Hux walked through the front doors of the bar. He waved over to Hux, the redhead making his way over to the booth. Hux sat down and flagged down the waitress. He ordered a whiskey and took off his scarf. It had been a chilly day and it seemed, by the redness in Hux’s cheeks that the weather had only gotten colder. “A bit early to start drinking.” Hux remarked as he glanced at the clock on the wall behind the bar. It was three in the afternoon. Kylo grunted and took a swig of his beer. “Does this mean that asking Y/N out did not go well?” Hux questioned. The waitress had returned with his whiskey and he now swirled it in his glass as he waited for a reply. Kylo sighed and placed his beer on the table. “I didn’t even get a chance. She came home after everyone had gone to bed. Then I got into a fight with Ben this morning. After that, I just left. I was too angry to stay.” Kylo explained, taking another sip of his beer. Hux merely looked at Kylo as he too took a sip of his whiskey. “So Ben knows?” Hux asked as he set his glass back down. “No… I don’t know. I never openly said anything.” Kylo sighed as he looked at his beer. So far this was the only one he had ordered but he felt like he might need more. Last night had been a bust and today had not gone as planned. He actually wasn’t going to ask Y/N on an official date, he was just going to suggest they hang out alone. Just to see if there was anything there. He had also planned on trying to convince her that Ben wasn’t worth the heartbreak. Now he didn’t know what he was going to do. After the fight with Ben, Kylo had begun thinking. Why had Ben gotten so offended by Kylo’s comment? Usually Ben just shrugged those comments of and laughed about it. But this time had been different. Maybe he had hit a nerve. Kylo didn’t know. Kylo and Hux sat in the bar for a few more hours, drinking and talking. It was mostly about school or about any upcoming parties they had heard about. Once it started getting dark out Kylo had decided he should return to home. He’d only had three beers but he felt tired. He needed some rest. He said goodbye t Hux, who had decided to stay a while longer, and headed out. He hadn’t driven so he walked to the bus stop and waited. Ben had left shortly after Kylo, he had gone to change into his gym clothes and then drove down to the school gym. It had been a while since he had worked out, school work was piling up and his fight with Kylo hadn’t helped his stress levels. He had started out on the treadmill and moved on to the rowing machine. He then moved on to weights and lastly he cooled down with a few stretches. He had worked out most of his anger and frustration. But what he still couldn’t understand was why he was so angry at Kylo. Why did he care what Kylo said about him sleeping around? Why did he care if Kylo had wanted to ask Y/N out? It wasn’t really any of his business. And then his mind wandered back to that dream he had had about Y/N. He’d had another one like it the following night. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t mean anything, maybe he was just bored with Carla and that was his subconscious’ way of telling him. Maybe he needed to go out and find someone new. Ben finished his stretching, grabbed his water bottle and left the gym. He had decided that he would find someone new to occupy himself with. There was another party coming up next weekend. Maybe he would find someone there. It was fairly dark by the time Ben got home. Kylo had reached the apartment just in time to see Ben coming around the corner from the parking garage at the back of the building. Ben looked up and met Kylo’s gaze. They glowered at each other. Kylo reached the door first and unlocked it. Ben followed him in. Y/N and Matt were sitting on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them, watching a movie. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Ben and Kylo avoided eye contact with each other as they crossed the living room and went to their separate rooms. Matt rolled his eyes and shoved another handful of popcorn into his mouth. “It must have been some fight if they haven’t made up yet.” Y/N remarked as she plucked a piece of popcorn from the bowl. She popped it into her mouth. “Yeah, I think they just kind of blew up at each other from all the stress at school.” Matt lied again. They must have blown some steam off since they came in pretty quietly, and together, in the apartment. Matt was just glad they hadn’t started another fight. The movie was almost finished now and the bowl of popcorn was empty. Y/N and Matt finished watching the movie in silence. Matt yawned as he got off the couch and turned off the TV. There was a small lamp on the side table beside the couch. Y/N reached over and turned it off. “I’ll take the bowl to the kitchen.” Matt offered. Y/N nodded and got off the couch. Matt took the bowl and headed to the kitchen as she made her way down the hall to her room. There was no light coming from underneath Ben’s door, or Kylo’s. Y/N figured they must have gone to bed already. She entered her own room and got ready for bed. She could hear Matt making his way to his own room. It was pretty late when Y/N crawled into bed. Sunday morning the apartment was quiet. Ben was in the living room playing video games with his headset on. Kylo hadn’t woken up yet and Matt was sitting at the kitchen table, still waking up. Y/N hadn’t come out of her room yet, she was scrolling through he phone debating whether she should get out of bed or stay under the covers a little longer. Sundays were usually days when the chores were done around the house. Y/N decided she would get up, shower, and see what the brothers were up to. She pushed back the covers and left her phone by her pillow. Swinging her legs off the side of the bed, she made her way to the closet and got her towel. She then opened her bedroom door and walked down the hallway to the bathroom. Everything was quiet except for some noises coming from the kitchen. Y/N figured someone must be in the kitchen getting something to eat. She entered the bathroom and and turned on the water.Kylo woke up to the sounds of the shower running in the bathroom and someone moving around in the kitchen. It was a little after ten in the morning. Kylo grabbed his phone from his side table and checked his emails. He had sent in a project on Friday and was wondering if the professor had received it. There were many emails from the university and some from his classmates concerning group projects. None were from the professor. Kylo sighed and put his phone back on the table. He knew he didn’t have much to do, except for some laundry and replying to a few emails. Kylo supposed he should get out of bed and get started on his laundry. Kylo climbed out of bed and stretched. Kylo opened his bedroom door and walked into the living room. Ben was playing video games and Matt was sitting on the couch next to him, scrolling through his phone. “We need to get some things from the grocery store.” Matt said without looking up from his phone. Ben continued playing his game, not paying much attention. “Ok, we can leave after I get something to eat.” Kylo replied as he walked off towards the kitchen. Y/N had gotten out of the shower, grabbed her towel and wrapped it around herself and walked back to her room. She walked over to her closet and examined her clothes. She decided she wanted to wear something comfortable. While she was picking through her clothes she didn’t hear the knock at her door. The door opened quietly and Kylo poked his head in. Y/N whipped her head around as she heard the door open. “Sorry! I thought you would have been dressed by now!” Kylo exclaimed and closed the door. Y/N picked out some clothes and threw them on. She tied her wet hair up and opened her door. Kylo was standing outside the door. “Hey Ky.” Y/N said as she closed the door behind her. “Hey, Matt wants us to go pick some stuff up at the grocery store.” Kylo said as he stared at the floor. “Ok, I’ll grab my purse and meet you guys in the living room.” Y/N replied as she opened her door once again to fetch her purse. Kylo pushed himself off the wall and walked back to the living room. He hadn’t told his brothers what had happened. He had just waited outside Y/N/’s door until she came out. He could still feel himself blushing as he walked down the hall. That was the first time he had seen her like that, in only a towel. Once they were ready, they all gathered at the front door.Ben and Kylo still weren’t speaking to each other. They hardly addressed each other. Matt and Y/N walked ahead to the parking garage, talking about classes. They took Ben’s car to the grocery store. The ride was a quiet one. Ben had turned on the radio and they listened to the local radio station. Once they got to the grocery store they split up. Y/N finished her list first and went to find one of the boys. She found Kylo first. He was in the meat section, he seemed to be choosing between two different packages of chicken. “Hey, need some help?” Y/N asked softly as she came up beside Kylo. “I can’t decide which one to get. They are both on sale but one is boneless and one has the bone in.” Kylo explained as she showed the packaged to Y/N. “Well, I guess it depends on what we’re making with it. I would go with boneless just to be safe.” She suggested. Kylo placed the boneless chicken breast in his basket and returned the other pack to the shelf. Ben had come down the aisle a few moments earlier and stood watching the pair. They looked like any other couple out grocery shopping. He felt a pang of jealousy as he watched them talk over the chicken. Ben walked up to the pair as Kylo placed a pack of chicken back on the shelf. “Are you guys almost finished?” He asked, smiling. His own basket was already full. “I’m almost finished with my list. I just have to pick up a few more things.” Kylo replied as he looked up at his brother. This was the first time they had spoken to each other all day. They glared at each other for a few moments before Y/N interrupted. “I’m finished with my list. I’m sure we can help you finish up and then find Matt.” Y/N offered, looking up at the two.The trio finished up with Kylo’s list and walked around the store to find Matt. Once they found him they lined up at the check out. Once the groceries had been bagged, they brought them to the car. The ride home was quiet and Ben turned the radio on again. Once they got back to the apartment, they put away the groceries. Ben returned to his vide games, Matt went back to his rom, and Kylo went to get his laundry. Y/N walked to her room and had a look around. She noticed that her laundry pile had grown. It was time too get some chores done before the week started and she got busy with classes. She gathered everything up and placed it in the half full laundry basket. She’d had a few sweaters lying around on her bedposts and the back of her desk chair. The laundry room Was down the hall from their apartment, perks of living non the ground floor of the building. Y/N grabbed the basket and her laundry card and headed out towards the living room. Y/N ran into Kylo in the hallway, he was also carrying his basket of laundry. “Would you like some company in the laundry room?” Kylo asked as they waked down the hallway together. “Sure! We can be laundry buddies!” Y/N teased as they walked through the living room and out the door into the hallway of the building. Ben had watched them go, then he got an idea. Ben turned off the TV, he ran down the hall to his room and grabbed his own laundry basket. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- As Kylo and Y/N entered the building’s laundry room, Ben came hurrying in after them. He had his basket in one arm and a wide grin on his face. Kylo was not amused, he had been hoping to use this time to get a feel of how Y/N felt about his brother and whether or not asking her out would be a good idea right now. “I thought I would join you.” Ben said as he approached the two. Y/N was currently looking at the wall of washers at the far end of the room. “Well, it looks like there is only one washer available.” Y/N sighed as she thought about how long this would take since they would have to take turns. “Why don’t we just put all our laundry in and split the cost?” Kylo offered. Their building had not yet upgraded to a card reader system, so the machines still took coins. “Great idea bro!” Ben exclaimed as he moved past Kylo and opened the top of the washer, dumping his clothes in. Kylo grunted as she pushed his brother aside and dumped his own basket on top of his brother’s clothes. He then moved out of the way so that Y/N could place her clothes in the washer as well. They each fished some coins out of their pockets. Once the coins were in place, Y/N poured in some detergent and they let the washing machine do its thing. “It’s going to take about an hour for the machine to finish. Wanna go back to the apartment and have some dinner?” Y/N offered. “Sounds like a good idea. I’m starving.” Kylo said, smiling at Y/N. He noticed her cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. “Alright let’s go get some food!” Ben said as he slung his arms around Kylo’s and Y/N’s shoulders. They had walked back to the apartment, Ben with his arms slung around the other two. Kylo was really not happy now. He knew what Ben was up to. He also knew that to Ben, this was just some new competition. He had never once cared to spare Y/N a second glance. He was expecting this to happen, ever since his argument with Ben. Y/N opened the door and they all filed into the apartment. “I’ll go see if Matty wants to join us.” Kylo said as he walked away towards the hallway. Y/N walked over to the kitchen and started pulling ingredients out of the fridge and cupboard. “What are we having?” Ben asked as he sat on the counter. “I was thinking we could have some chicken with roasted vegetables.” Y/N replied, pulling out the roasting pan from the bottom cupboard. “Sounds great! Do you want any help?” Ben asked as he got down off the counter and began searching the cupboards for a knife to cut the vegetables. Y/N was a little taken aback. Ben had never offered to help her cook before. “Sure! That would be wonderful!” Y/N said as she took out some spices and olive oil to coat the vegetables. ‘Wonderful?’ She thought. ‘Why would I say that!’ She chided herself. She had to admit that she was a bit nervous to be in close quarters with Ben, preparing a meal together. Kylo walked into the kitchen with Matt and stopped in his tracks. Ben was helping Y/N with dinner and they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Ben was teasing Y/N about something and Y/N was laughing. “What are you guys making?” Matt interrupted the two as he sat down at the kitchen table. “Roasted vegetables and chicken à la Ben Solo.” Ben replied smugly. Kylo rolled his eyes and sat down across from his brother. “Sounds delicious.” Matt teased with a sarcastic tone. Forty minutes later dinner was ready and they all sat down to eat. Everyone ate in silence, enjoying their meal. After dinner was finished and the dishes were washed, it was time to switch over the laundry. Kylo, Y/N, and Ben walked over to the laundry room. They each took an armful of laundry from the machine, placing it in a dryer and then placing the coins in their slots. “Well, this should take another hour.” Ben said, running his hand through his hair. “I have some stuff to finish. So I guess we can all meet up back here in an hour?” Kylo suggested. “Sounds good!” Y/N said and the trio made their way to the door. It was quiet as they walked down the hallway and back to their apartment. Y/N opened the door to the apartment and the two brothers followed her in. Matt was on the couch in the living room, playing video games. “Mind if I join you?” Y/N asked as she sat down beside him. “Sure, just let me finished this round.” Matt replied as he handed her the other controller. Ben sat down. Next to Y/N, placing his arm on the back of the couch behind her shoulders. Kylo scowled and stalked back to his room. Ben had intruded on his plan. He had to figure out another way to approach Y/N. Kyo sat in his desk chair, making last minute adjustments to homework assignments and replying to some emails. He wasn’t really paying attention to what he was doing. He was trying to figure out how he could get some time alone with Y/N without making it seem too much like a date. It couldn’t be too intimate of a setting, but he also didn’t want the setting to be too casual. Maybe he would plan to meet up with her on campus and have coffee somewhere in between classes. Kylo was so deep in thought that he barely registered the soft knock on his door. He glanced at the clock on his desk, his hour was up. He closed the documents he had opened on his computer and got up from his chair. He opened the door to see Y/N waiting for him on the other side. “Want to go get the laundry?” Y/N asked tilting her head to the side. This time it was Kylo who blushed, he hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. “Sure.” He smiled and followed her down the hallway. Ben was already waiting for them at the door. They walked back once more to the laundry room. They had left their laundry baskets on top of the dryer while they had waited for their laundry. Kylo took the laundry baskets off the top of the dryer and opened the door to the machine. He then took out the large pile of laundry and placed it on the top of the machine. They each sifted through the large pile, placing their clothes in their respective baskets. They walked back to the apartment, arms now full with clean laundry. Once they. Got back to the apartment they all went their separate ways. Ben went to his room and placed his laundry basket on his bed. He grabbed some pants and started folding. His was almost done folding his laundry when he noticed something stuck to the leg of a pair of pants. He peeled it off, thinking it was a sock. However, upon further inspection, he noticed it was not a sock. He shook the smaller garment out. A blush crept into his cheeks. It was a pair of Y/N’s underwear. It was a pair of satin black panties with a lace trimming. Ben held them up a little higher, getting a better look. Just at that moment, Kylo opened the door to his room.
10740501	The Fluff Version	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Sherlock (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by gaywizard (orphan_account)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-27T00:00:00", "words": "211", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": "Sherlock Holmes/John Watson", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "The Email Fics - Courtesy Of Larksinly And Toadlet", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Sherlock was a little taken aback from drunk John. He was far more cuddle-y then he had anticipated, and Sherlock found himself sitting in his customary black chair with a half asleep John Hamish Watson on top of him. Sherlock was a little tipsy, as well, so he just grinned and forgot the probably consequences in the morning and just let himself enjoy the warmth on him. He ran his hands up and down Johns back, marveling in the happy little sighs against his neck. He would deal with this later, but for now Sherlock would just let John sleep on him and appreciate the adorable little nose wrinkle and huffs of half-asleep breath and the feeling of John snuggling against him when Sherlock tightened his grip to keep John from falling to the floor. Wasn't like Sherlock hadn't fallen before. But love was different from a floor. Or was it? Sherlock tilted his head and tried to keep his hazy thoughts to a minimum. He had fallen hard, true, but it wouldn't be as tangible as the hardwood under him. Oh well. --- Sherlock barely remembered the thoughts in the morning, especially not after John kissed him. He didn't remember much after that besides a bed and adorable giggles of contentment.
10737018	weird charms and cuddles	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Kim Mingyu, Xu Ming Hao \| The8, Boo Seungkwan, Choi Seungcheol \| S.Coups, Kwon Soonyoung \| Hoshi, Lee Seokmin \| DK", "Fandom": "SEVENTEEN (Band)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by gyuandkwan", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-26T00:00:00", "words": "3,057", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Magic, Magic Made Them Do It, mingyu is a tall insecure elf, minghao is a cute pixie, weird charms, self indulgent, gtg - Freeform, idk what this is, side 2seung, No Homo, Alternate Universe - College/University, seungkwans aged up and in the same year as mingyu, Fluff, Minor Swearing", "Relationship": "Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao \| The8", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "just a dash of magic", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Mingyu knew better than to go to a frat party with the danger of spiked drinks and unpredictable people who could be high off of some kind of pleasure charm of sorts, but he finds himself in one one Friday night. He managed to get convinced by his best friend, Seungkwan, to just let loose and have fun. Finals were finally over and Mingyu couldn't have been more relieved. He reluctantly agrees to go with Seungkwan to a frat party hosted by his boyfriend and the current leader of the frat, Seungcheol. Mingyu knows things between those two were strictly casual, but he could see Seungkwan falling a little more in love with him every time they saw Seungcheol pass by in the hallways of their shared building. ( "Why won't you just date him already? Like, actual dating. Not the casual friends with benefits thing you've got going on--" "It's not that easy," Seungkwan's face is red. "don't bring this up. Thinking about him everyday is bad enough." "But you love him--" "Noooo!" Seungkwan frowns, covers his ears, shuts his eyes tight, and shakes his head. "don't say the L-word. "You're being stupid." he tells him, shaking his head. ) Mingyu's hair was tousled, made to look like he had just rolled out of bed but in a good looking way if that even made sense. His elf ears were sticking out weirdly and Mingyu wanted to hide them under a hat or something. He was dressed up nicely, in a shirt with the first two buttons popped open, and well-fitted black jeans. Even though he didn't show it, Mingyu was insecure of his elfish features. He didn't like the way his ears pointed, or how his tan skin glimmered and faded into a light green in the sun, or even the way his eyes turned into a startling gold whenever he was excited, angry, or aroused. It was annoying. He had only agreed to go to the party on the condition that he'd go whenever he wanted (at least stay an hour to make sure you won't just leave when we're there, Seungkwan compromises. Mingyu reluctantly agrees.) and the assured fact that Xu Minghao wouldn't be there. Kim Mingyu doesn't like Xu Minghao. That was just a given fact. He didn't like how pixies looked so normal and so good (save for the cute wings on their backs that they could make disappear at will), while elves were stuck with pointy ears and green skin. He didn't like the way Minghao was annoyingly good at all the things he wasn't. Mingyu knew the boy was made just to spite him, and even Minghao knew it too. Xu Minghao and Kim Mingyu just don't click. Somehow, Seungkwan finds the whole situation amusing, much to the exasperation of Mingyu. ( "Why do you hate Minghao so much anyway?" Seungkwan asks as he files his nails idly. "He's bossy and annoying," Mingyu replies. "You probably like him." Seungkwan hums and blows on a nail. Mingyu almost gags.) Once Mingyu's finally satisfied with how he looks, he and Seungkwan head out for the party. They arrive there twenty minutes later, and the party had already started. Mingyu isn't surprised, they were two hours late anyway. "Okay, we've gone over this already but I'm going to repeat myself," Seungkwan tells him over the loud booming music, and Mingyu can only barely catch his words. "Only drink the things I hand you. Stay out of trouble--stoners and assholes who give out charms are a big no. Text me if you leave earlier than me, got it?" "Got it." he says, but Seungkwan was already getting dragged away by some guy he recognized as Hansol. Mingyu sighs, not really knowing anyone in the party close enough to hang out with or what to do next. He settled on going to the kitchen and eyeing the sketchy drinks on the counter. There were tons of bottles of alcohol that came in strange, bright colors but he knew that magickal alcohol was just the same as normal human alcohol, if not a bit stronger. It could potentially have some strong charms blended in though, so normal store-bought human alcohol was a safer bet. Mingyu sat on one of the high chairs behind the counter. There was food too--cookies, pizza, and half a cake. Mingyu's stomach grumbled. He supposes the pizza looked safe enough to eat with how it was still sealed in its box. Mingyu's head screams not to eat it, but he hasn't eaten lunch or dinner and he hadn't realized that he was starving. "What's the worse that could happen anyway," he mutters, taking a slice and eating it. It tasted normal and he doesn't feel any different. He deems it safe to eat another slice and finishes it before a new group of guys walk in the party. A shapeshifter, a half-elf, and a pixie, Mingyu notes lazily until his blood runs cold. His eyes lock with Xu Minghao's for a split second before they both look away, like they hadn't seen each other at all. Awkward. Mingyu starts to feel a little buzzed. It's probably the alcohol Seungkwan had given him before he saw that damn asshole by the name of Minghao, he thinks. Mingyu doesn't remember if he's even had alcohol to drink, but he must have if he's feeling this woozy. Seungkwan comes back to him about five minutes later and almost drops the bottle of beer in his hand at the sight of Mingyu rolling up his his sleeves, blinking, and talking to a bright pink bottle of soju. "WHY IS HE SO GODDAMN ATTRACTIVE?" yells Mingyu frustratedly, and Seungkwan stares at him wide-eyed. Mingyu turns his way and glares at the wall beside Seungkwan. "Why the hell is he here?" he asks, or rather slurs, when he sees Seungkwan. Seungkwan has no idea who he's talking about but he's more concerned for his wellbeing so he ignores it. "Did you drink any of these?" Seungkwan demands worriedly, pushing them away and making his friend focus on him. Some of the bottles were obviously spiked with heavy pleasure charms, most likely for the stoners. It'd be bad if Mingyu suddenly gets his hands on any of these. Guilt sinks in Seungkwan's chest. Maybe dragging his best friend here wasn't such a good idea. "Ate me some pizza cause I got hungry." he patted his belly and suddenly stands up. "Gonna go find Minghao. Wait. What." Mingyu looked confused and slapped himself. Minghao was here? Seungkwan didn't know. Maybe that was why Mingyu was acting weird. "Not Minghao. No, I hate him. He's an asshole and he keeps making me feel weird things. Especially when he laughs or smiles--" Mingyu pauses, frowning. "Wait. What was I talking about?" he looks lost in thought before suddenly deciding on, "I'm gonna go upstairs." "What?" Seungkwan sputters, then checks the deceiving box of pizza. The box had read in bold letters, 'lightly seasoned with attraction charms, symptoms disappear in 24 hours'. Attraction charms featured in and out consciousness and a whole lot of needy episodes. Seungkwan doesn't know if he should be amused by what fate had done or scared on Mingyu's behalf. Either way, he could only laugh incredulously. "Oh, shit." - "Oh, shit." Soonyoung gapes at a passed out Minghao and looks at Junhui, panicked. "what the fuck do you mean that drink was spiked? Hao is gonna murder us. Shit." "What we should be worrying right now," Seokmin says anxiously, "is who he saw first. Or is about to see, I'm not sure. If it was one of us, it'd be fine. If it was some complete stranger, this is gonna be a long night." The three of them were inside one of the bedrooms upstairs, once they figured out Minghao was acting strangely. Magick parties were always dangerous, and it seemed that some assholes had broken into the party. Seungcheol's parties weren't usually this out of control. The door whips open and Kim Mingyu is staggering over to them. Talk about wrong timing. "Woah woah woah, buddy, it's not a good time to pick a fight right now. You gotta go," Soonyoung tries to push him out of the room. Minghao could wake up any minute now and it would be terrible if he saw Mingyu first. Attraction charms only worked on the first person people see. "I wanna see him," he whined, making puppy dog eyes at Soonyoung, who softened for a second. Mingyu takes advantage of this and pushes Soonyoung to the floor, then practically leaps onto Minghao, who was on the bed knocked out. He doesn't know what happens next but he hears Seokmin yell and Soonyoung shapeshift into a chicken in surprise. Seungkwan's suddenly in the room but Mingyu's not focusing on anything but Minghao fluttering his eyes open and staring at him. Conscious Mingyu sits up abruptly, eyes narrowing. "Wait. I don't like you." Minghao pouts below him, pulling Mingyu down by the collar of his shirt, pulled him closer, and started cuddling him. He breathed in Mingyu's scent, nuzzling his neck and the other boy relaxed in his touch. "Well, you should." The room is dead silent. Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung's mouths hang open. "I never thought I'd live to see the day they'd get along." Soonyoung says slowly, and the other two nod in unison. "It's just the charms talking though." Seungkwan says, frowning. "Too bad. They'd make such a good couple." "I don't even get why they hate each other so much," Seokmin says as Mingyu giggles when Minghao nips at his ear. "It's probably just--" A low moan cuts him off, and the air is tense and very awkward. Minghao was kissing and biting Mingyu's neck, making little noises here and there. Mingyu's biting his lip. The three of them averted their eyes. "--sexual tension." Seokmin finishes in a small voice, gulping. "Okay, we have to go. We can't separate them, even if we tried. We can go pick them up here tomorrow morning." They all agree on this and Seungkwan smirks to himself, knowing that Mingyu was going go get the biggest surprise of his life the next morning. Conscious Minghao hears the door lock and shut closed and blinks, lips still on Mingyu's jaw. He pulls away suddenly, heart racing really fast. Why the fuck was he doing this again? "What is going on?" he looks around and notices he's on a bed with Mingyu, who he was previously kissing. He flushes pink when he realizes he was straddling Mingyu. Minghao feels Mingyu getting hard and sees his eyes slowly turn into a beautiful gold. "Baby," he groans from underneath him and Minghao feels heat swoop in his stomach. "kiss me, please." Minghao doesn't know what he's doing, but he ends up kissing Kim Mingyu, the guy who's always gotten on his nerves and made him sexually frustrated all the damn time. It doesn't get any further than palming each other through tight jeans, but they kiss and cuddle and Minghao feels so good he doesn't want any of it to stop. They sleep in each other's embrace through the rest of the night, and it was a pleasantly warm and comfortable position. Mingyu had a leg over Minghao's hip. The latter faced Mingyu, and their faces were only centimeters apart. Minghao's arm was slung over Mingyu's waist. The two have never slept better than that night. When morning comes, Mingyu wakes up first. It was normal at first, eyes slowly blinking open. He then registered Minghao's breath fanning his face and their foreheads were pressed close in a sweet gesture. Mingyu doesn't think when he moves his face closer, pressing his lips on Minghao's simply because he wanted to. A sleepy whine through the kiss was Minghao's reply, but he kissed back sweetly, not caring about morning breath or anything. Consciousness makes them both pull away at the same time with wide eyes. "Wait--" "Shit, um-- The two fumble over their words with growing pink cheeks. The attraction charm lasted for 24 hours and it wasn't quite finished yet. But it had worn off enough for them to be conscious of their actions. Mingyu immediately retracted his leg and scrambled to pull away from him. Minghao did the same. "Um," Mingyu starts awkwardly, "this is really awkward, but did we have sex last night?" Minghao remembers bits of last night and his face feels like it was on fire. "We...didn't." Did Mingyu hear a trace of disappointment in his voice? He shakes the thought away and realized they were both shirtless. "Where'd my shirt go?" he mutters and feels Minghao's gaze linger slightly longer than it should have. Sunlight shone through the window and turns his fair skin into a healthy light green. Mingyu feels insecure of the ugly green and pulls up a blanket to cover himself when Minghao's hand stops him. "Don't hide it." Mingyu stares at him confusedly. The other boy looks flustered. "Y-You're beautiful," he says grudgingly, looking away, "I don't understand why you hate yourself so much." Mingyu feels his heart do jumping jacks. "It's...not beautiful. You don't have to lie to make me feel better. I don't like my skin being green, or how everyone looks at me weirdly when my eyes turn gold. I'm not as beautiful as pixies. I'm not a-as beautiful as you." "I'm not lying. It is beautiful." he says genuinely, and Mingyu looked so vulnerable. Minghao feels a sudden want to protect him from everything harmful and bad. Minghao's eyes softened and moved closer. "Kim Mingyu," he says breathily while slipping in between his legs and putting his hands on the wall behind Mingyu so the latter would only look at him. Minghao fascinatedly watches Mingyu's eyes turn into that beautiful shade of gold once again before he continues. "why do you hate me?" Minghao looked down, ignoring the biggest urge to touch Mingyu. He wanted to know why they had this stupid rivalry in the first place. "I..." Mingyu trailed off in thought, "I guess I was just...jealous because you had all the things I don't? Now that I think about it, it's stupid. But what about you?" he leans his face closer to Minghao's, staring at him intently. "why do you hate me?" "I never hated you," he breathes. "I might've acted like an ass to you, but I didn't have a reason. You acted mean, so I did the same. I'm sorry." Mingyu's eyes shimmered back into the warm brown. "I'm sorry for being so petty about things. I really am." "I believe you," he says softly before his eyes trailed down to his lips. "I want to talk more but this attraction charm's really damn hard to resist. Can I kiss you right now?" And they did. Minghao feels butterflies in his stomach and his heart soaring. Mingyu's never felt more alive. They eventually break apart for air, panting. "I really like you--" Minghao starts. "I think I like you--" Mingyu says. They stop, faces blooming into a grin, then promptly turning into giggles. "I really like you," Minghao tells him sincerely, turning around and leaning on Mingyu's chest comfortably. "will you be my boyfriend?" Mingyu wraps his arms around him and hums pleasantly. "I'd love to." - Seungkwan instead gets the biggest surprise of his life when he comes back to pick Mingyu up. "Seungkwannie!" Mingyu calls from the bed, his hands were laced with Minghao's and they were just sitting around and talking. Seungkwan comes into the room, expecting the worst and even covering his eyes with his hands. "Oh, good, you guys are decent." they had put their shirts back on sometime before. "are you ready to leave?" "Seungkwan," Mingyu starts, looking at Minghao adoringly before looking back at his best friend. "I'm dating Minghao now!" "WHAT--" "DAMN IT--" Seungkwan grins and opens the door to reveal a disheveled Soonyoung and Seokmin. "I told you!" Seungkwan says in a sing song voice, dancing a little. "Who asked who out?" Soonyoung demands, looking at the couple intensely like his life had depended on it. "Hao-hao asked me out--" Soonyoung falls to his knees, and Seokmin and Seungkwan share a highfive. "What?" Mingyu stares at them confusedly. "Probably some stupid bet," Minghao says, nuzzling into his neck. "you know, like in every movie and book ever." Mingyu kisses the top of Minghao's head lovingly. "Okay." - The moment the attraction charm has vanished, they were still all over each other and Seungkwan looked at them disgustingly. "Oh my god," he groans, covering his eyes, "get a goddamn room. Seungcheol, this is all your fault. If they start having sex in our dorms, I'm don't know what I'm gonna do, but I'm gonna do something." Soonyoung snickers and Seokmin just makes a disgusted face. He throws a pillow at the couple, who were cuddling on one of the couches. Seungcheol frowns confusedly. The small group was cleaning up his house the whole day and they were finally done so they were all slumped in the couches of the living room. "What do you mean it's all my fault?" "Pizza." Seungkwan lazily explains. "I love pizza." "As in attraction charms added in pizza. Why is that even a thing? Isn't it like, illegal?" "Oh," Seungcheol suddenly blushes pink, "that." "Seungcheol ordered that in a sad hope that you'd eat it," Soonyoung exposes. Seungkwan stiffens and looks flustered. "y'know, 'cause he's like in love with you." "Soonyoung, you dick--" Seungcheol's face is on fire and Seungkwan feels like melting. "Seokmin," Mingyu intervenes suddenly, cutting Seungcheol off, "did you know about that time Soonyoung was really red when you came home early? I was in the dorm that day too, and he was just jerking himself off and was thinking of you. Y'know, 'cause he's like in love with you." Soonyoung has never been more humiliated. "Kim Mingyu, I'm ready to fucking skin you alive--" "KARMA'S A BITCH, SOONYOUNG--" Seungkwan is laughing so hard and Seungcheol's yelling. Seokmin looks flustered and refuses to look in the general direction of Soonyoung."Um," Soonyoung's mind blanks out, trying to think up an excuse to save his pathetic ass. "no homo?"The room roars with boisterous laughter.
10734705	That Boy Is A Monster	{ "Archive Warning": null, "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Sam Winchester, Gabriel (Supernatural), Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Aaron (Supernatural)", "Fandom": "Supernatural", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by anaeifly", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-26T00:00:00", "words": "2,603", "Additional Tags": "Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Rough Sex, One Shot", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply", "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Sam Winchester was absolutely going to be the death of Gabriel Novak. Gabriel was an assistant manager at the Boston Panera, and Sam was the new general manager. Well, actually, at this point 'new' was an inaccurate term. Sam had been occupying the position of general manager for over three months now. But Gabriel still wasn't entirely comfortable with him, because Sam was introverted and quiet and nearly impossible to get to know. He also happened to be one of the hottest guys that Gabriel had ever seen. He was about eight inches taller than Gabriel, which was absurdly and inexplicably sexy, with wavy caramel-colored hair just long enough to put in a ponytail and hazel eyes that were a different color every time Gabriel saw them. Sam was also, sometimes, kind of a pain in the ass. "Gabriel, could you please make sure you're remembering to direct customers? I've had three people in the past ten minutes who didn't know where to find their food." Gabriel did his absolute best not to make a face at Sam. "I did tell them where to find it. It's not my fault people don't listen." Sam's expression was one he seemed to wear often around Gabriel--one of forced patience. It made Gabriel want to shove him against the wall. "Well, either way, please just make sure you tell them. You're an assistant manager, you can't be forgetting that kind of thing." Gabriel growled softly under his breath in annoyance and tried very hard not to roll his eyes. He failed. "Fine, Sam. Whatever you say," he muttered, turning away. Why couldn't Sam just leave Gabriel to do his job and go bug someone else? Someone, for instance, like Gabriel's little brother Castiel, who was on barista and who had been flirting with Mr. Tall, Buff, & Blonde for at least the last five minutes. Seriously, the guy looked like a Ken doll that someone decided to gift with actual sex appeal. It was kind of ridiculous. Not that Gabriel could blame his little bro for wanting some action, but surely an art history major could do better than an EMT? ...okay, maybe not, considering said art history major was working at Panera with a bunch of teenagers. But still. As if he'd read Gabriel's mind, Sam looked over at the barista counter. "Dean!" he barked. "Stop harassing my employees, for god's sake." Cas looked down, blushing deeply, and started cleaning the already spotless espresso machine. Ken Doll--Dean--grinned. "Sorry, Sammy," he said, not sounding remotely apologetic. "I couldn't help myself. I didn't know you were working with hotties now." Cas's wide blue eyes flickered up to Dean's, and Dean winked. Cas got even more red and quickly looked away, and Gabriel suddenly felt torn between laughing his ass off and burying his face in his hands in empathy. Sam rolled his eyes. "Go away, Dean." Dean laughed, joyful and carefree. He grabbed Cas's hand and scribbled something onto his palm. Then he folded Cas's fingers over it and winked at him again before turning to leave. "Later, bitch," he called over his shoulder in the direction of Sam and Gabriel. "Jerk," Sam mumbled. Gabriel looked at him curiously. Sam seemed fondly annoyed by Dean's appearance and behavior, but not particularly surprised. "Boyfriend?" Gabriel asked. Sam snorted and rolled his eyes, somehow managing to look like an irritated moose. Gabriel almost laughed. "No, thank god," Sam replied. "Brother." He paused. "He's an idiot." Gabriel did laugh at that, and Sam smiled. "Okay," Sam said. "So don't forget, read back all your orders and direct everyone. Got it?" And just like that, Gabriel's brief good humor was gone. Honestly, what kind of an incompetent dumbass did Sam think he was? He rolled his eyes again (what? His impulse control isn't fantastic, sue him) and, without thinking, snapped, "Bite me." To Gabriel's complete and utter shock, Sam didn't appear to be pissed off by his remark. In fact, he didn't even seem to be annoyed. To the contrary, he cast an appraising look over Gabriel, the kind that Gabriel could feel dragging over his whole body in a weirdly sensual way. He was suddenly acutely aware of how close he and Sam were standing. "Maybe later." What? Gabriel was pretty sure his jaw was actually on the floor. Sam smirked, clearly pleased with his reaction, and then winked at him. Fucking winked. The wink only served to further shock Gabriel. Sweet, mild, quiet Sam had just winked at him. Gabriel wouldn't have thought he'd even have known how to do that. After a few seconds, though, Gabriel managed to pull some of his blood back up to his brain. He put his hand on Sam's upper arm and let his fingers trail lightly downwards. "If you're lucky," he purred, pleased when he saw Sam's eyes widen and his pupils dilate. Sam bit his lip, and Gabriel found himself staring at his mouth, really recognizing for the first time just how kissable it was. Then Sam shook his head like a dog shaking water out of its coat. "Right," he said in an almost normal voice. "Back to work." And Gabriel might've been able to convince himself that the whole thing was nothing, pointless to dwell on, if not for the fact that before Sam turned to go back to the line, he put his hand on the small of Gabriel's back--way closer to his ass than it needed to be--and gently pushed him towards his register, causing another superfluous southward rush of blood. Later could not come soon enough. The rest of Gabriel's day passed in a blur. Cas, who in general was neither a nervous person or a babbler, did an unusual amount of nervous babbling when Gabriel innocently (ish) asked what Dean had written on his hand. One of Gabriel's fellow assistant managers, Aaron, left a coffee cup full of chicken noodle soup on the counter and a customer mistook it for a latte, which Gabriel would have found incredibly amusing had he not been so distracted. His mind had been on Sam all day, wondering when exactly 'later' would come--and what might happen when it did. At the end of the night, after Gabriel had counted all the leftovers of the day, he went to the back and into the office. Sam was there, staring at the computer and looking as though he wanted to bang his head against it. He looked up when Gabriel came in, his face a mask of misery and irritation. "Please tell me you know how we could possibly be missing $18 in soups. I mean, do people not know what portion tools are?" He had taken the elastic out of his hair, leaving it hanging loose around his face, and he ran a hand through it, pushing it back. Before he knew it, Gabriel was staring again. It took him a few seconds to realize that Sam was probably expecting an answer. He shook his head. "No idea." Sam sighed. "God," he muttered. "And here I thought we were getting better." He glanced up at Gabriel. "I'm sorry, do you need to...?" He gestured to the paper in Gabriel's hand and then to the computer. Gabriel shrugged. "Only if you're done," he replied with nonchalance that he didn't actually feel. "I don't want to hold you up." Sam shook his head. "No, it's getting late. I know you already sent everyone home." He pushed himself up out of his chair and away from the desk. "You first. I'm going to be here for another couple of hours anyway, probably." Then it all got a little iffy. Sam stood up and took a step forward at the exact same time that Gabriel moved away from the wall just enough to no longer be leaning against it. The effect of this was that ended up being, somehow, that he was suddenly standing so close to Sam that their chests were touching. Gabriel tried to tell himself not to look up, because he was absolutely certain that if he looked up Sam would kiss him and that was dangerous, dammit, but his self wasn't listening very well. He put his hands behind him, on the wall, in an attempt to steady himself, and looked up at Sam, whose rich hazel eyes seemed to be burning him. Gabriel had seen those eyes look gray, blue, brown, green, practically every color you could think of, but up close they were truly fascinating, mostly jade green with a golden starburst around each pupil and tiny flecks of brown and blue throughout--and they were fixed on Gabriel with surprising intensity. "I almost forgot," Sam murmured, leaning in ever so slightly. "It's later by now, isn't it?" He rested one hand lightly on Gabriel's waist, hooking one finger into a belt loop, and licked his lips. Jesus fucking Christ. Gabriel swallowed hard. "God, I hope so." Sam grinned, triumphant and just the tiniest bit surprised. "Good." And that was all the warning Gabriel had before Sam's mouth covered his, kissing him hungrily. Gabriel opened his mouth to the kiss without thinking, moaning when Sam simultaneously pushed his tongue in to tangle with Gabriel's and pinned his wrists together over his head with one ridiculously large hand. The other hand slipped into Gabriel's hair and tugged gently. Gabriel gasped, his hips bucking forward against Sam's. Sam broke away from the kiss first, leaving Gabriel panting (although it was worth noting that Sam's breathing was far from even), and planted a trail of burning kisses from Gabriel's jaw down to his throat. He stopped at the juncture of the neck and the collarbone and sucked gently at the skin there. Sam's tongue shot out to taste his neck, and then, out of nowhere, he bit down, harder than Gabriel had been expecting--and yet, somehow, not hard enough. The mixture of pain and pleasure went straight to Gabriel's cock, and he moaned, much louder than he'd meant to. He thrust his hips forward again, but the angle Sam had bent to in order to be able to reach his neck meant that he met nothing but air. He wriggled his hands, hoping Sam would let go of them so he could pull him closer, but all that got him was a tightening of Sam's grip. He huffed in frustration, making Sam chuckle as he kissed his way back up Gabriel's neck. "That's what you get for being such a tease," he whispered, his lips brushing Gabriel's ear and sending a shudder down his spine. Gabriel groaned, his hips bucking again. "Sam, please, god..." Sam pulled back to look at him. He must have liked what he saw, because after a moment he leaned in to kiss him again, putting his finger back in Gabriel's belt loop and using that to pull him closer. The feel of Sam's hard-on against his, even through their jeans, practically made Gabriel dizzy, and he thrust his hips forward almost mindlessly, causing the most delicious, perfect friction. He felt Sam groan into his mouth and couldn't keep a smile from his lips. Sam broke away on the tail end of a moan. "Turn around." Gabriel was happy to oblige, especially when he heard Sam unzip his pants behind him. Sam reached around with one hand and deftly undid Gabriel's own pants, pushing them down just enough to slip his hand into Gabriel's boxers. Gabriel fought back a moan as Sam wrapped his hand around his cock and started to move it up and down. "Fuck, Sam." Sam laughed softly, kissing his neck just below his ear. "Don't worry, I'll get there." He pushed Gabriel's jeans and boxers down as he spoke, and all of a sudden Gabriel felt Sam's cock teasing the crack of his ass. He moaned again, torn between pushing back against Sam's cock or forward into his hand. Both options were amazingly tempting. There was a slight pause, during which Gabriel heard a faint tearing noise. He heard Sam stroking himself but no sounds of lube or spit, so he assumed the condom must already have lube on it. Which was fine by him--he liked it a little on the rough side--but he did wish Sam would hurry the hell up. He rocked his hips backward to illustrate this fact, and was rewarded with a low groan. Sam put one hand on his waist to still him. "Patience, grasshopper." Gabriel snorted in spite of himself. All humor was forgotten a moment later, however, when Sam finally pushed inside him. Sam wasn't huge, but he was definitely at least a little above average and aware of that fact, because he moved slowly. When he was all the way inside, Gabriel let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and relaxed around him. Obviously feeling this, Sam rocked his hips forward experimentally, and Gabriel let out an involuntary moan. "Oh fuck, Sam, please..." he babbled, wanting--needing--Sam to move. Like, now. Sam pressed another kiss to his neck. "Please what?" Gabriel moaned again, restlessly shifting his hips backwards. "Sam..." Sam grabbed his hips with both hands, hard enough that Gabriel was pretty sure he'd have bruises there tomorrow. "Please what?" Gabriel could barely even think. "Please fuck me, Sam. Please." Sam kissed his neck one more time, and then bit down at the same time that he pulled back, almost all the way out of Gabriel. "If you insist," he said, thrusting back in, hard. Gabriel groaned, letting his head drop forward as Sam fucked him. It had been way too long since he'd gotten laid, and Sam felt ridiculously good inside him, somehow managing to hit his prostate on every inward thrust. He took one hand off the wall and reached down to wrap it around his cock, but to his surprise Sam batted it away. "I'm going to be the one to make you come," he growled in Gabriel's ear, his hand on Gabriel's cock matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Soon Gabriel began to moan with every thrust, feeling his orgasm building. Sam kept up his punishing pace, somehow knowing exactly what Gabriel wanted, and before he knew it he was spilling over Sam's hand and groaning out his name. He felt Sam's breathing get harsher, and his hips stuttered into Gabriel unevenly. He felt Sam tense and gasp, "Gabe...fuck, god." Hearing Sam moan his name, coming because of him, was a bigger turn-on than Gabriel would've expected, and he felt his own cock twitch faintly in response. Sam pulled out slowly and collapsed into the chair behind them. When Gabriel turned around, he was pulling off the condom, and he caught Gabriel's eye and held a couple of napkins with a small and surprisingly shy smile. Once Gabriel had cleaned up a little and they had both tucked themselves into their pants, Sam wordlessly beckoned Gabriel over. Gabriel went over willingly, straddled Sam's lap, and kissed him lazily, deep and open-mouthed and messy. Sam kissed him back, alternately sucking on his tongue and nibbling on his bottom lip, until Gabriel was forced to admit that he needed to breathe. He broke the kiss reluctantly and rested his forehead against Sam's. Sam gently stroked his cheek with his thumb, breathing almost as hard as he was. "You are absolutely going to be the death of me," Sam murmured. He didn't sound all that upset about it. Gabriel kissed him again. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Winchester."
10779003	Who You Are	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": null, "Characters": "Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, Thomas Colton Padalecki, Austin Shepherd Padalecki, Justice Jay Ackles, Gerald Padalecki, Sharon Padalecki, Megan Padalecki, Jeff Padalecki, Mackenzie Ackles, Josh Ackles, Donna Ackles, Ackles Family, Padalecki Family, Alan Ackles", "Fandom": "Supernatural RPF", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by TayTay4936", "chapters": "7/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-01T00:00:00", "words": "12,205", "Additional Tags": "Christmas, Sick Jared, Sick Jared Padalecki, Jensen kind of being an asshole, Aloof Jensen, Family, awesome sisters, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, non-au", "Relationship": "Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "Gen, M/M", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Jared was traveling back and forth across the room, packing clothes into suitcases, when Jensen entered the doorway. He watched silently as Jared hummed an offbeat tune to himself, a small content smile on his face.Feeling his stomach drop, Jensen entered their bedroom, not so subtly clearing his throat.Jared looked up with one of his trademark dimpled grins. “Hey, babe. I think we got everything. Finally got all the presents finished. We got your dad, your mom, Mack, and Josh. And we got his kids’ presents over-“ Jensen finally couldn’t take it anymore and cut him off.“Jay! Listen!” Jared stopped immediately. Any other time, Jensen would have laughed at his gigantor of a husband (technically domestic partner, which Jensen’s mother never failed to mention) stopping mid-sentence, looking like a confused puppy, but right now he just felt sick.“I’ve been thinking. Your dad just retired, and I know he’s probably looking forward to spending the holidays with all his kids. I’d hate to be the reason he couldn’t have you there, especially considering how busy our schedules are…”Jared was quiet for a few moments that felt like lifetimes to Jensen, before his demeanor completely changed, his eyes squinting in suspicion and anger.“Your mother told you to tell me not to come, didn’t she?”“Jay…” Jensen sighed. This was the same dilemma Jensen had been having for years, and quite frankly, it was exhausting, trying to make everyone happy. “It’s just that my grandma is going to be there this year, and my mom is worried about how she’ll react to…us.”Jared scoffed and gave a knowing nod. “How long ago did she tell you to tell me not to come?”The seconds ticked by as Jensen ducked his head, giving Jared all the answer he needed. Still, he didn’t miss Jensen’s quiet mumble.“A few weeks ago.”Jared scoffed again before he began pacing around the room, his hands instinctively reaching up to yank at his hair. “I can’t fucking believe this! How many years has it been? And she still can’t accept it? I still have to hide away like some dirty little secret while you play perfect little Christian boy?”“Hey!” Jensen barked, instantly becoming defensive. “That is NOT fair! You don’t know what it’s like, having to bend over backwards trying to please everybody.”“Really?” Jared’s own anger was beginning to boil over. “Because it seems to me that the only ones you care about pleasing are your parents. And I get the table scraps.”As soon as he was done talking, Jared’s fingertips immediately went to his head and his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to relieve some of the pressure that had accumulated in his head.“Oh that’s rich,” Jensen practically sneered. “You don’t want to face our argument like a man, so you get one of your ‘headaches’.” He finished his sentence with air quotes.“It really fucking hurts, Jensen,” Jared ground out through gritted teeth.“Well, suck it up. I get headaches all the time too, trying to balance everything between you and my parents, but I don’t whine about it. I keep on goin’, and I damn sure don’t use a headache to get out of an argument.”As he felt the worst of his pain begin to recede, Jared plopped down onto the bed, trying to catch his breath. As he placed a hand over his rapidly beating heart, he glared up at Jensen.“Fine,” he panted out. “You don’t want me there to complicate your façade, no problem. I’ll go to my parents’, but I’m taking the kids with me. All of them.”Jensen opened his mouth to protest, but stopped as Jared raised his hand.“No. I don’t care what lie you have to make up, I’m not spending Christmas without all my babies. That’s not gonna happen. You can tell your family whatever you want to about Danneel. I don’t really care. But you’re not taking any of my kids. They deserve to spend Christmas together, like the siblings they are.”Resigned, Jensen sighed and nodded. It was the least he could do, he knew. He had screwed up majorly. First with caving in to his mother’s wants, then prolonging telling Jared until the literal last minute, and then basically calling Jared weak for not being able to shake off what looked to be a clearly painful headache.“Just let me say goodbye to them before you head out, okay?”Jared nodded before leaving the room to gather up the kids.Jensen wasn’t sure what Jared had told them, but before long, he heard the pitter patter of his children’s feet coming down the hall. They all came into the room, disappointment clear on all their faces, but there was no anger, so Jensen knew Jared had covered for him. Big time.He hugged and kissed them all, telling them to have fun and that he would talk to them soon.Tom was the last one to say his goodbyes and when he did, Jensen pulled him into a tight embrace. “You make sure to take care of your brother, your sister, and Daddy, alright?”Tom nodded. “I will, Dad. I promise.” “That’s my boy.”As the kids made their way back down the hall, Jared and Jensen stared intently at one another before Jared gave him the tiniest of smiles. “Have a good Christmas. I hope it’s everything you hope for.” He was quiet for a moment before finishing, “I love you.”Before Jensen could respond, Jared offered him one last smile and made his way out the door. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Jensen had been wanting to leave for the last two weeks.He’d arrived two weeks ago. The entire way to his parents’ house, he felt a sense of ‘wrong. This is wrong. What am I doing?’ It only got worse when he saw his sister.Jensen walked through the door of the house, tasteful decorations all around and the sounds of voices seemingly coming from all directions. As he called out a “hello,” Mackenzie bounded up to him with a ginormous grin and wrapped him in a bear hug, swaying back and forth. “Hey, big brother! I missed you.” He had missed her too. His sister was a bundle of energy who never let his fame get to her. She and Josh had also accepted who he was from the start, both adoring Jared and each of the kids to no end. Therefore, it was no surprise that Mackenzie quickly looked around Jensen on all sides, grin still plastered on her face, before giving him a slightly confused look. “Where’s everybody else?” “They’re all in San Antonio,” he mumbled quietly, head hung low. Immediately, Mackenzie’s demeanor changed. As they heard relatives approaching, she pulled him into a deserted hallway before swiftly slapping him across the face. Jensen had to admit he wasn’t surprised by the act, but he was reminded how strong his little sister was. He knew he’d be feeling the whiplash for the rest of the night. “What the fuck did you do?” she asked in a harsh whisper. She had spent the last couple months talking to Jared about Christmas plans, even helping him with a particular gift, and had been ecstatic to spend the holiday with all her siblings and their families for the first time in ages. “It wasn’t my idea,” Jensen mumbled meekly, his eyes unconsciously shifting in the direction of their mother’s voice, wafting in from the kitchen. Mackenzie caught on immediately and scowled, a low growl even being released under her breath. “Jensen,” she started tensely, “you can’t let her run your life forever. Hell, you can’t let people run your life forever.” Jensen knew she was referring to the network demanding that he and Jared stay in the closet. “This is your family we’re talking about. Your husband and your children. And you’re willing to just leave them behind at Christmastime? You know how excited Jared was to spend it with us this year.” Jensen closed his eyes and nodded, feeling even worse than he had been. “Mom’s never gonna change unless you stand up to her,” Mackenzie continued. “And before you know it, your kids will be grown up with almost no memories of spending time with your side of the family and Jared will feel less like your husband and more like your hidden secret. And that’s not fair to any of you. Or us, for that matter.” Jensen wanted to cry. He knew he had fucked up and hearing it from his sister, her words sounding so much like Jared’s the last time they spoke, was making the feeling in his chest tighter and tighter. “I know. I know it’s not. I’m a coward and I know that.” He told her how their mom had used their grandmother’s presence this year as a reason for Jared to stay behind. “Jensen,” Mackenzie sighed. “She’s always going to find an excuse to exclude Jared and the boys as long as you continue to let her. Speaking of which, I’m surprised you didn’t bring JJ along in order to fulfill this stupid little charade you’re trying to pull.” When he told her of Jared’s refusal to spend Christmas away from any of his children, wanting them to spend the holiday the way normal siblings should, Mackenzie offered him her first smile since she had dragged him to the hallway. “You know, sometimes I wonder what the hell you ever did to deserve him.” Jensen couldn’t help but agree. It wasn’t long after that that Josh found the two of them in the hallway. After being informed what was going on, he couldn’t help but look at his brother with a look of such disappointment that it made Jensen feel like he was two inches tall. “Wow, bro. I-…Wow.” With that, he shook his head and walked away, and in a way, that was way worse to Jensen than if he had just punched him instead. He eventually made his way further into the house, greeting various relatives without really paying attention, including his grandmother, who to her credit appeared to have no idea she had been part of the cause for his current anguish. His mother had acted completely surprised that he had shown up alone, asking in front of everyone where Danneel and JJ were. Though the question made him want to scream in her face and throttle her across the room, Jensen instead quickly made up the familiar lie that JJ was sick so Danneel stayed behind with her. That seemed to pacify everyone in the room, though Jensen swore he saw his sister spit in the sink before making her exit, Josh right behind. It wasn’t much later that Donna came up with the “brilliant” idea for everyone to give up their phones to be locked up so they could all spend “quality time” together. Naturally, all of the ‘adult kids’ objected, especially since they would be staying until just after New Year’s, but Donna was insistent and had the encouragement of all the senior citizens in the room. With groans and glares, Jensen, Mackenzie, Josh, and his wife all handed over their phones, another feeling of ‘Wrong, wrong, wrong’ going through Jensen. Now it was New Year’s Eve and Jensen hadn’t spoken to his husband or his kids in two weeks.It was two weeks’ worth of torture.When it finally dawned on him to call Jared from the landline phone his parents still had, there was no answer. He felt like he was about to go crazy, if he hadn’t gotten there already.As he passed his mother as he left the kitchen, she shot him a quick glance before scurrying into the kitchen without a word.Things had been…weird…between them since Christmas Eve. Everyone was sitting around the living room as presents were distributed. They were all talking jovially amongst themselves, Jensen building his own little bubble around himself as he played with his brother’s kids, feeling like his heart was breaking, thinking about Jared and picturing his own kids opening up their presents on Christmas Eve. They went around the room, each person opening one gift during each go-around. Mackenzie squealed as she opened a first edition copy of her favorite novel. As she opened the cover to maybe find out who it was from, she saw a long note written on a blank page. By the time she was done, she had tears in her eyes. When asked who the gift was from and what it was, she merely shook her head and held the book to her chest, making eye contact with Jensen. Yeah. Jared knew she’d love it. Still, Jensen couldn’t help wondering what his husband had written inside that would make his sister cry. Things continued in a similar fashion with each gift from Jared. Josh loved his brand new set of tools to continue his passion of working on cars and he and his wife both cried when they saw the custom storybook made by both Jared and Megan about a little boy/superhero with Down Syndrome. He knew he’d be reading that to Levi later. His wife cracked up at her customized ‘ugly sweater’ and Levi and his sister loved their toys. Alan was completely caught off guard when he unwrapped a framed collage poster of all the films and shows he had ever worked on. When he asked who it was from, Jensen merely called out “Dad” and gave his father a look before Alan nodded and offered an almost sad smile. Jensen knew the relationship between his dad and Jared was complicated. Though like his wife he didn’t necessarily approve of their relationship, Alan knew that Jared was a good person with a huge heart. The final present of the evening was Donna’s and Jensen, Josh, and Mackenzie all watched intently, all knowing what she would find. As she removed the last of the paper, Donna immediately burst into tears. She unwrapped a large framed painting. It was an exact replica of her favorite photo of her children, from when they were little. She looked around frantically trying to find who had done this for her. When she finally asked, it was Mackenzie who spoke. “Turn it over.” Attached to the back of the frame was an envelope with an enclosed letter: 'Dear Mrs. Ackles, I am not naïve enough to believe that you like me, much less have any sort of affection for me. I’m sorry I could not be what you wish for your son. However, the fact remains that I love him with every fiber of my being for who and what he is. He brightens my world on my darkest days. Therefore, I want to say thank you. Thank you for bringing such an extraordinary human being into the world and raising him to be the man I love so much. I thank you and truly love you for giving me such a priceless gift. I remembered you saying once that this was your favorite photo, so I had Mackenzie send me a copy to have it professionally made into this painting. I hope it meets your approval. I hope you have the merriest of Christmases. Love, Jared’ More tears came to her eyes as Donna read the letter. A small smile came to her face before she neatly folded the letter back up, placed it back in its envelope, and put it in the pocket of her sweater. Ever since then, things had been off. It was as if Donna constantly wanted to say something to Jensen, but something held her back, whether it was her own pride or Jensen’s cold shoulder, neither of them really knew.Things continued like this until that afternoon, when all the family members reconvened for the New Year’s festivities.Jensen was sitting in a chair at the far end of the room, trying to fade into the paint on the wall as much as possible, when there was a loud banging on the door.Confused, Josh got up to answer it. Jensen’s head snapped up when he heard the unmistakable voice of Megan Padalecki.“Where the fuck is he?!” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Where the fuck is he?!” Jensen immediately stood from his seat and before he knew it he saw Megan barreling through the house like a freight train. Once she spotted him, she zeroed in on her target, coming at him with more fury in her eyes than he thought she was capable of.“You!" she hissed, before reeling her arm back and landing a solid punch to his nose.Jensen was so caught off guard by the whole situation, he had no time to defend himself. He brought his hands up to cover his nose, as he felt a few droplets of blood leak out.He was dazed enough that he didn’t hear the resulting chaos, Jeff coming in to hold her back and calm her down, various adults trying to keep the children calm, confused family members shouting questions.He did, however, hear Megan’s next words.“Where the hell have you been? We’ve been calling for fucking weeks!”That caught Jensen off guard. He returned to his full height and looked directly at the woman he had long considered his other little sister.“What? What do you mean you’ve been calling for weeks? What’s wrong?” Fear gripped his heart. He imagined Jared or one of the kids, hurt or- no. He wouldn’t think about that. That just wasn’t a possibility.“You would know if you once looked at your fucking phone!” she yelled back.“Our mom made us all hand over our phones when we got here,” Mackenzie answered quietly, sounding a bit ashamed herself.That seemed to calm Megan enough that Jensen saw her physically deflate, Jeff finding it safe to let her go, though her face still held anger and…was that heartbreak?“Of course she did,” she couldn’t help but scoff. Her eyes darted across the room to a shocked Donna before coming back to Jensen. Not only had they called and texted him so many times they lost count, but they had reached out to Mackenzie and Josh too. She had personally been the one to try to contact Mackenzie since the two of them were so close. At least now she knew why no one had answered.“Meggie…” Jensen asked softly, fear in his heart, “what happened?”She closed her eyes and Jensen saw tears beginning to gather. His anxiety level was off the charts. He needed to know what happened and he needed to know-“Jared has cancer.”-now.He couldn’t have heard right. That wasn’t…no. There was no way he’d heard right.“What?” That didn’t sound like his voice. Where was his voice? He glanced over and saw Mackenzie with a hand covering her mouth, tears in her eyes. Why was she crying? She couldn’t have misheard the same thing he had.“He has cancer. A brain tumor.”It was as if all of Jensen’s senses came back to him in a rush. This was real. Megan was standing in front of him telling him the love of his life had brain cancer and it was real.“WHAT?” he screamed. His breath started coming faster.Megan began to tell the story. Jared trudged through the door of his parents’ house, mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted. Megan came over to him as the kids ran past her. She eyed Jared suspiciously. He had called his parents to let them know he and the kids would be coming for Christmas after all, but he gave no further explanation. “What the hell did he do?” Jared sighed in exasperation. This was not what he needed right now. A bad headache was beginning to bubble up. “Meggie…not now.” “What do you mean not now?” Her voice steadily continued to rise. “You had been planning on spending Christmas through New Years with Jensen’s family…now you and the kids show up out of the blue the day before Christmas Eve, with no Jensen. Now, I can only guess what happened and my suspicions aren’t good, so what the hell did that son of a bitch do?!” By now she was screaming and Jared just hoped no one else would come interrogate him. Just as he was about to speak, the pain in his head spiked so high he saw white behind his eyes and his legs gave out. He was able to catch himself on a nearby wall with one hand as the other went to his head and he let out an uncontained groan. Megan’s eyes widened and she rushed to his side, yelling for help. “Jeff! Jeff, help!” Within seconds, their brother was there, asking what was happening. Megan gave him the short version before Jeff turned to his brother and slowly guided him to the floor with Megan’s help. “What’s going on, little brother? Talk to me.” “Head. Hurts.” Jared was barely able to get the words out through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezed shut. Jeff turned to Megan. “Call 911. Now.” “No.” Jared struggled to sit up straighter, hand blindly reaching out. “No. That’ll terrify the kids. I’ll…I’ll go to the hospital. But I’m not taking an ambulance.” Rather than argue, Jeff quickly nodded and hefted his brother into his arms as if he weighed little more than a child. As he was grabbing his keys, the rest of the family was filing into the small entryway, all asking questions at once. Megan tried to keep it short, telling everyone that Jeff was taking Jared to the hospital because he was having an excruciating pain in his head when a high voice was able yell above all the others. “Daddy!” Jared used all his strength to turn his head and open his eyes enough to see his little girl looking at him with frantic, desperate eyes. The sight broke his heart and he did his best to calm her. “It’s okay, JJ. Uncle Jeff’s just going to bring Daddy to the doctor to make sure that I'm alright, okay? Don’t worry, baby. It’ll be okay.” With that, Megan opened the front door and Jeff raced to his car, carefully placing his brother in the passenger seat and speeding to the hospital. Megan gave a brief synopsis of everything that had happened since that hospital visit. The diagnosis, the surgery to remove the tumor, the radiation, and now the chemo that Jared had just recently started. She told them about how she and her family had basically been living at the hospital for the last two weeks. How Jared was still trying to be positive for everyone but anyone with eyes could tell he was in agony. She told them about how Jared had insisted on shaving his head, rather than watch his hair fall out due to the chemo, how he had turned it into an event of sorts. They all had taken turns shaving off a strip of hair, Jared having the first go and even the kids each taking a turn.She glared at Jensen as she told him that he was the only one who was missing. Even Genevieve and Danneel had both made the trip and took part in the ‘ceremony’.“We called you every day. Texted you every single day. Finally, it was Jared who told us all to stop. That if you didn’t want to be bothered, we couldn’t force you. God.” Her voice broke. "And you know what the worst part is, Jensen? The fact that the doctors told us that if Jared had seen someone when he first started having such bad and frequent headaches, his prognosis would have been better. And why didn’t he see someone, Jensen? Why? Because someone would tease him for not being able to handle a headache or downright accuse him of using them as an excuse to get out of an argument!”By the time she was done, Megan was panting. That was two weeks’ worth of frustration and anguish and heartbreak tumbling out.She looked around and saw every member of Jensen’s family in shock, most of them frozen to the spot. She then watched as everything sunk in for Jensen. Soon, he was hyperventilating, tears coming to his eyes and quickly flowing down his face, though he seemed completely unaware of their presence.The next thing anyone knew, Jensen was on his knees, puking up everything in his system as hard, guttural sobs fought for release against his shortened breaths.As pissed as she was at Jensen, he was still her brother as far as Megan was concerned. She got to her knees, avoiding the vomit on the carpet, and placed a hand on his shoulder.“Jensen?”“I’m so sorry!” he sobbed out. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know, Meggie. I didn’t know. I-I didn’t mean it about his headaches. I was worried, but he seemed to have most of them whenever we were arguing and I just…I was being an asshole. A selfish asshole. He can’t- I can’t lose him. He’s the love of my life, Meggie. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me and-“ It was hard for him to get out everything he wanted to say around his choking sobs.“I know I don’t deserve him. I know that. But I…I can’t lose him. I can’t.” He shook his head, unable to even comprehend a world without Jared in it.Megan had never seen Jensen in so much pain. As much as she felt he deserved it and it at least gave her that validation that he did care after all, she couldn’t take seeing her brother in such a state.“Jensen. Listen to me. What Jared needs is for you to be there for him now. Can you do that? Will you actually be there? And acknowledge your relationship, rather than hiding it away?”Jensen nodded so vigorously it looked like a little kid promising his mother he’d be good.“Alright,” Megan said as she wiped his face. “Why don’t you grab your stuff and we’ll head out, okay?”He nodded again and went to stand up when he heard the voice of his grandmother behind him.“Jared? That tall young man with the beautiful hair? The poor thing. I always loved him. Sweet as an angel, that one.”Jensen turned to her, not a shred of fear left in him. “Yes, Grandma. He’s my husband.”Her eyes seemed to only hold confusion. “Then why hasn’t he been here?”He told her about how his mother didn’t believe she would approve of their relationship and had therefore asked that Jared not come.Jensen was completely caught off guard as he watched his grandmother turn and glare at his mother, fire in her eyes.“Donna! How could you?! You know how important I believe love and family are. You should be ashamed of yourself, using me as your reasoning to separate these two boys.” She turned back to Jensen. “I’m so very sorry, sweetie. If I had known, I of course would have said something. You give that beautiful husband of yours all my love, okay? I’ll be praying for him.”Jensen couldn’t help it as more tears came to his eyes and he let out another sob. He bent down and gave her a tight hug. “Thanks, Grandma. That means so much. You have no idea.”As they pulled away from one another, the older woman gasped, her eyes going wide.“Wait…does that mean those two beautiful boys are my great grandbabies?”Jensen laughed around a sob. “Yeah, Grandma. They are. They’re my boys.”He watched as tears came to her eyes as she gazed at him before shaking her head and quickly wiping her eyes.“I have so many clothes to make. What are their sizes?”Jensen could hear someone, either Mackenzie or Megan, let out a sob behind him and he smiled around his tears as he told his grandmother the boys’ sizes and what they liked.“I expect to hear all about your family, Jensen. You understand me?”He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. You have my word.” With that, he raced up the stairs to gather up his things. As he was throwing clothes into bags, he heard footsteps pelting up the stairs, followed by drawers opening and closing and zippers fastening. He left his room to investigate.He found his sister, his brother, and his sister-in-law quickly filling and closing suitcases of their own.“What are you guys doing?” he couldn’t help but ask.Mackenzie looked at him like he was an idiot.“We’re going with you.” The unspoken ‘duh’ was definitely implied.He shook his head as if to clear it. “What?”It was Josh who continued.“Jensen. Jared is our family too. We love him. And we want to be there for you, for him, and for your kids.” He and Mackenzie looked at each other. “I don’t think either of us would be able to rest or enjoy the rest of the holidays without seeing Jared for ourselves and doing what we can to help.” Mackenzie nodded in agreement.He knew he shouldn’t have been, but Jensen was astounded by his siblings.“Thank you. I…” He couldn’t quite find the right words.“No time for that,” Mackenzie interrupted. “Time to go.”Jensen nodded. He went back to his old room, zipped up his last bag, and led his siblings down the stairs.They could all hear the various voices calling things out, but they all chose to ignore them, instead grabbing their phones from the kitchen and heading for the door.As everyone was about to leave, Alan called out.“Jensen.”Jensen quickly turned in the direction of his father’s voice and was soon pulled into a tight hug.“Tell Jared I’m thinking of him, okay? And that I believe in him.”Trying to keep the tears from resurfacing, Jensen nodded. He was almost out the door when he heard his mother calling out for him.With an exasperated huff, Jensen turned, irritation clear in his eyes, and saw his mother’s beseeching face.After a moment, she spoke.“Tell him I’m sorry.”Without a word, Jensen headed out the door. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Josh and his wife got their kids piled into their car as Jensen and Mackenzie hopped into Jeff’s. As they pulled away from the house, Mackenzie called out, “So are we driving or flying?”It seemed no one had thought that far ahead.Megan quickly pulled out her phone. “Well, if we hurry, there’s a flight in an hour that we can catch.”Mackenzie quickly called Josh. “Hey, are you guys okay with flying there? We can be on a plane in an hour. And the flight’s only an hour too.”Josh thought about it for a minute. “Yeah, let’s do it. It’ll be a bit chaotic, but I know these kids will do better on a plane for an hour than in a car for four and a half.”“Alright, cool.” She hung up the phone. “Let’s head to the airport.”Jeff reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, handing it to either of the two girls in the backseat. “Here. Use my account. Book it.”Jensen looked at him in shock. “Jeff. I can pay for it. It’s no problem. It’s the least I can do for you guys, driving all this way, not to mention knocking some serious sense into me.”The other man gave him a serious look that Jensen couldn’t quite interpret before answering quietly.“Jensen. I got it…. Let me do this.”Not quite understanding what was going on but knowing better than to push the much larger man at the moment, Jensen merely nodded.“Okay. Go,” Jeff called out. Megan quickly booked their tickets, handing her brother his phone back as they got close to the terminal.The half hour drive took them all of 18 minutes.The whole airport process as well as the flight went surprisingly seamlessly, with no complications, and before long, they were touching down in San Antonio.Jensen was anxious beyond belief. What could he possibly say to make up for what he’d missed? He was still stewing in his thoughts as they headed to the hospital in their rental cars, same seating arrangements as before, when suddenly Megan gasped.“Oh my god,” she let out on a breath. “He posted it.”Jensen looked back at her in confusion and a bit agitation. “Who posted what?”“Jared,” she answered quietly. “He wanted to make a video for the fans before we shaved his head. Telling them about the cancer and…” she paused here. “…coming out.”Jensen’s eyes widened, but before he could say anything, Megan cut him off.“He didn’t say anything to out you, Jensen. Come on.”Jensen quickly shook his head, his eyes pleading with her to understand. “No! That’s not what I meant. I-I’m just surprised.” He couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment in his gut that Jared hadn’t outed him too.Megan’s eyes softened. “Do you wanna see it?” Jensen quickly nodded and took the phone from her.“Hey, connect it to the car’s Bluetooth,” Mackenzie suddenly called out. “I want to hear it too.”After a few moments, everything was set up and Jensen took one last deep breath before hitting play.They all heard scratching and Jensen watched as the screen was fumbled around before landing on Veronique’s face. “How on Earth do you-“ Jensen smiled. He knew how inept she was with technology.Off-camera, Jared laughed, causing Jensen’s heart to drop. God, he had missed that laugh. “You got it flipped around, sweetheart. Hit that little thing in the corner again.”Soon, the camera was flipped and Jensen let out a sob, quickly covering his mouth, at seeing his husband’s beautiful face again.“There we go.” He heard Veronique’s voice again. “You got it?” “I got it.” “Okay.” Jared took a deep breath and began. “Hey, guys. Sorry about the brief technical difficulty there. That was my sister-in-law, Veronique, and she’s…still learning when it comes to technology.” The two exchanged childish faces before Jared continued. “Anyway, she’s going to be filming this video for me. I guess I should start with Happy Holidays, everyone! I know I’m a bit late. Sorry about that. But as you can see, the reason I’m behind is because I’m in the hospital. This all started a few months ago, when I started getting these really bad headaches. They were horrible, but over time, I kind of got used to ‘em? If that makes sense? Then everything really hit the fan the day before Christmas Eve. I had just gotten to my parents’ house in San Antonio when I got a headache so bad I saw white and my knees literally gave out. My sister called for my brother, who’s a doctor, as many of you know, and he drove me to the hospital. After hours and tests, they told me that I have a brain tumor. I won’t go into all the details, but the tumor is partially benign and partially malignant. Needless to say, I was terrified. I’m still terrified. But as I’m always telling you guys, I’m gonna keep fighting. I have my surgery scheduled for tomorrow. Then I’ll eventually be starting radiation and chemo. So, this is probably the last time you’ll see me with this hair for a good while.” He yanked at his hair. “I’m going to miss it, I’m telling you.” He gave a warm smile before continuing. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you guys because I wanted to be open and honest about what’s going on.” He took another breath. “Which brings me to the other thing I wanted to talk to you guys about. I’m gay. I know that may come as a shock to a lot of you, but it’s true. I’m gay. I’ve been gay since-“ he chuckled to himself. “Well, I’ve been gay since I was born, but I’ve known I was gay since I was maybe 11 or 12. It’s something I’ve never been ashamed of, and luckily I’ve had a very supportive family my whole life, but it is something I quickly learned to keep secret once I started acting. Being somewhat in the closet was fine, I guess, but things really started getting weird when I started Supernatural. The network would get very angry if I did or said anything that would make people suspect that I was gay, which eventually led them to demand that I start bearding. Now, for those who don’t know, bearding is when someone who’s gay gets someone of the opposite sex to pretend to be their significant other so that people will believe they’re straight. My first beard was Sandy, who I know a lot of you guys remember from the show’s early days. Anyway, it got to be too much for her, and to her credit, she said she couldn’t stand to watch me be miserable. That the money she was being paid to be my beard wasn’t worth it, so we “broke up.” Jared made sure to include air quotes. "But we're still friends to this day. Then they brought Genevieve onto the show, and after we got to know each other, she agreed to be my new beard, and though we have had our share of disagreements and arguments over the years, I thank God for her. She’s helped me through some of my darkest times when my real family wasn’t available, and through artificial insemination, she’s given me beautiful children. And she’s been an amazing mother, going above and beyond whenever I haven’t been available. And all the crew members and other members of the cast have been beyond supportive too. Jensen, Misha, Mark, Rob, Rich, Osric…they’ve all been amazing and I’m so grateful for every one of them. So, that’s the gist of what I wanted to tell you guys. The connection between the campaigns I’ve done and the LGBTQ community wasn’t just out of nowhere. I had a personal connection and saw the campaigns as a way to do my part for the community while still having to remain in the closet. And to those fans who I’ve met who have told me they were LGBTQ, you have no idea how much I wanted to yell out ‘me too!’ and hug you forever for being so much braver than me. I hope I haven’t upset anyone by keeping this a secret for so long. I love y’all so much. I’ll see you soon.” With that, he kissed his fingers and held them up before the video ended. By the time the video ended, everyone in the car was crying; even Jeff was wiping his eyes.Jensen didn’t even know what to say, what to think. His man was absolutely amazing and he was again in awe of Jared’s courage and his honesty. It broke his heart that Jared didn’t feel comfortable addressing their relationship in the video, that he was just a “supportive friend,” especially when it was Jensen who had been so insistent that they remain in the closet. That was the opposite of “supportive” as far as Jensen was concerned.He was brought out of his thoughts when Mackenzie shook his shoulder.“Jen. Come on. Let’s go see him.”He nodded before quickly exiting the car. He had a lot to make up for. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Everyone rushed into the hospital, hustling towards the elevators, when Megan called out, “Oh look. There’s Daddy.”They all made their way over to the food court, where Gerry was nursing a cup of coffee.Jensen had always known him as big, loud, and jovial. He reminded Jensen of Jared a lot in that regard, though his husband definitely looked more like Sherri. So needless to say, it made Jensen uneasy to see the person he considered a second father hunched in on himself, looking exhausted.“Hey, Daddy,” Megan called quietly, as if not wanting to spook a wild animal.Gerry lifted his head and offered a small smile, greeting everyone there individually, making sure to put on a happy face for Josh’s kids, hugging each of them to his chest before tickling their bellies.Jensen hung back so he was the last Gerry would greet. He had no idea how he would be received and he wanted to make sure everyone else went before whatever it was was coming.They made eye contact and Jensen saw a bit of surprise in the older man’s eyes. That hurt like hell.“Hi Daddy,” he said quietly, making a concerted effort to keep his eyes off the floor.Ever since maybe a couple months after they first got together, Sherri and Gerry were ‘Mama’ and ‘Daddy’ to both Jared and Jensen. Jensen had never felt so fully welcomed and included so quickly before in his life. He knew that this family cared about him and loved him, and not just because he was Jared’s partner.“Jensen,” Gerry answered back quietly.Megan quickly cut in. “Where’s everybody else?”“Veronique took the kids to a park nearby. Your mom’s upstairs with Jared now. He’s not feeling too good.” He gave Jensen a look. “Hey, why don’t you take these guys outside and let them stretch their legs for a bit. Jensen and I need to have a talk.”Jensen knew this was coming, he knew it needed to happen, but the words still struck fear in him.As everyone headed back outside, Gerry motioned towards the seat opposite him.“Why don’t you have a seat?”Jensen mutely nodded and sat down.“So,” Gerry began. “I see they were able to hunt you down. Did they have to drag you kicking and screaming?”Jensen shook his head frantically, tears once again coming to his eyes.“Daddy, no! You have to believe me when I say I didn’t know! I didn’t know about any of this.” Jensen waved vaguely around him to the hospital as a whole. “My mom said she thought it would be a good “quality time” idea if we didn’t have our cell phones on us so we would have to do things together. She locked up all our phones and none of us got any of your calls or messages! Believe me, if I had, I would have been here on day one.”Gerry offered a small smile in that fatherly way he was so good at.“I knew it had to be something like that. At least… I hoped. I’d hate to think that after 13 years none of us knew you as well as we thought we did.”Jensen shook his head again and the tears that had pooled in his eyes finally found their release as he let out a sob.“Daddy, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I let you all down. I’ll never be able to make it up to Jared for not being here, for missing so much when he needed me the most, but I’m going to try my damnedest. I’m not giving up and I’m not leaving.” He made sure to look Gerry directly in the eyes. “I’m not leaving Jared. Ever.”Gerry came around and pulled the younger man into a hug, which just caused Jensen to sob harder, burying his head in his father-in-law’s shoulder. When they finally pulled away, Jensen wiped his eyes and continued on.“So how is he doing, Daddy? Really.”Gerry gave him as much information as he could. Told him about Jared’s good days and bad days. He told him there were times where Jared felt so low they were all scared he would do something drastic, but he would always pull through it.The mere thought of Jared even contemplating that again absolutely terrified Jensen. He knew that if Jared had given up while they were apart, if he had decided to end it, Jensen would never be able to forgive himself. He’d also say goodbye to the kids and follow his soulmate right behind.He looked up at his father-in-law and saw the wear this whole ordeal was taking on him.“And how are you doing, Daddy?”Gerry looked surprised. “I’m fine,” he answered in confusion. “Why are you asking me that?”“Daddy, really. I can tell this is killing you. Hell, if I was in your shoes and it was one of my kids, I’d be a wreck. Now talk to me. It’ll help to get it out.”Gerry just shook his head, looking down at the table before looking back up to meet the younger man’s eyes.“He’s my son. He’s my baby boy and I…I’m supposed to protect him from the world. I’m supposed to be able to make the bad things go away. But there’s nothing I can do for this. I just have to watch my boy go through this unimaginable pain day after day and know that there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I can’t-no one should have to bury their babies,” he sobbed.This time it was Jensen who pulled Gerry to him, shaking his head frantically as tears gushed down his face.“That’s not going to happen. It’s not. It can’t. Jared’s the strongest person I’ve ever met in my life. He’s gonna pull through this.” He thought for a second. “I refuse to accept anything else. Besides, the universe would be beyond cruel to break so many hearts simultaneously.”Gerry let out his own chuckle/sob before the two men pulled away, both wiping their soaked faces.“Well ain’t we a pair?”Jensen gave him a faint smile.Eventually, Gerry nodded towards the elevators. “Why don’t you head on up to see him. It’s long overdue, don’t you think?”Jensen nodded meekly before making his way to the elevators.Here we go. As Jensen made his way up in the elevator, he took some deep breaths in a futile attempt to calm himself. As the ding sounded, alerting Jensen that he had reached his destination, he fought the urge to run. He wanted more than anything to see Jared, but he was terrified. How could he possibly begin to make up for everything? Not even just these last two weeks, but his years of cowardice before.His feet moved as if they had a mind of their own and before he knew it, he was only a couple doors away from Jared’s. He slowly began making the last few steps, coming to a halt as he heard the sounds of violent retching. He hurried to the room, but stood outside of the open door as he heard the familiar voices inside.“It’s okay. It’s okay. Let it out,” Sherri’s gentle voice soothed.“I’m sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry,” Jensen heard Jared sob out around the heaves and sobs he could clearly hear in his voice.Sherri continued to shush her son until the violent sounds subsided. Just as Jensen felt brave enough to enter the room, he heard his husband speak again.“I’m so sorry, Mama. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. It’s not your job.”“I’ve told you before,” Sherri began, “I will not hear any more of that. You are my son. When I brought you into this world, it became my job to care for you and be there when you needed me. No matter how old you get.”Jared opened his mouth to speak again, but his mother quickly continued.“And besides, just because one member of your family failed to live up to their duty, doesn’t mean you should expect the rest of us to.”“Mama,” Jared let out around an exasperated sigh. “I told you to let it go. I can’t force Jensen to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”“I know, baby, and I’m sorry, but when he recited those vows, he made a promise to you, regardless of what his parents think. That promise is what he should live by, not fear and cowardice.”Jensen felt like dirt. No. He felt lower than dirt. He knew everything Sherri was saying was true, whether he had known about Jared’s diagnosis or not.“I know, Mama,” Jared began again. “But can we just drop it for now? I’ll deal with all that later.”Sherri nodded, placing a kiss on her son’s sweaty forehead. “Of course, sweetheart. Let me just get the nurse to get you a new bedpan and I’ll be right back.”Jensen quickly stepped back, not wanting to be right there when Sherri exited the room. He watched her speak quietly to the nurse briefly before turning in his direction. She stopped short, her jaw dropping slightly and her eyes widening.She quickly made her way over to him, looking up into his eyes, causing him to feel completely exposed. He could see there was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to do. He could tell she was restraining herself from slapping him across the face like Mackenzie had done, but instead, she just murmured, “Let’s take a walk.” The two walked silently until they came upon the family waiting room. Thankfully, there was no one else inside. Jensen followed Sherri’s lead, the two of them taking a seat at a round table.Jensen was shaking in his boots. He didn’t even know where to begin. He had thought Gerry would have been the scariest member of the Padalecki clan to face, but he had been wrong. Sherri was the sweetest woman he had ever met, and she was the first one to welcome him into the family completely. She was the mother he had always wished he had, and the thought that he had disappointed, even failed her, was too much to bear.“I have to say I’m surprised to see you here,” Sherri finally began. “And I can’t tell you how disappointed that surprise makes me.”Jensen felt the tears rising to the surface again. What was lower than lower than dirt?“When you didn’t show, and didn’t answer any of our calls or messages, I thought, ‘This can’t be right. This isn’t Jensen. Something must be wrong.' But, as the days went by and you didn’t answer, I began to lose hope. It became harder and harder to convince Jared that you were coming, that you cared. I never thought I’d have to convince my baby that his husband cared about him.”“I’m so sorry,” Jensen got out on a whisper. “I didn’t know.” He informed Sherri about everything that had happened with his mother and the family’s phones, how he had finally tried using his parents’ house phone but got no answer, and his regret over how he had treated Jared’s headaches.She gave him a lecture similar to the one he had received from Mackenzie regarding his mother’s control before tears came to her eyes and her face somehow simultaneously morphed from disappointed to angry.“And I don’t think you realize, Jensen, how close we came to losing Jared, and I’m not just talking about the cancer. There have been days where he’s outright told me he just wanted to end it all. I thought I’d never have to hear that again from my son. I never thought he’d reach such a low, that he’d feel so alone, that he’d consider ending his own life. This cancer isn’t the only thing that’s stolen his strength. You stripped him of it, Jensen. You broke him.” You broke him. Jensen couldn’t breathe. If Jared had- If he hadn’t-He quickly got up and emptied the measly remains of his stomach into the nearest garbage can. He was surprised when, only a moment or two later, he felt the gentle hand of his Mama rubbing circles on his back. Once he felt he was done, he turned around to face her.“I’ll never forgive myself,” he stated. “No matter what happens, no matter how long I live, I’ll never forgive myself for failing him like I have. I heard you from outside his room earlier. I haven’t kept my vows to him, even before this, but if it takes the rest of my life, I’m going to make things up to him. I’m going to fix this. I have to.”For the first time since he saw her outside his husband’s room, Jensen saw Sherri smile. It wasn’t her usual big glowing smile, but it was genuine, and that’s what mattered.“I hope you do, baby. I hope you do.”“I’ll always be sorry, Mama,” he whispered, “but please don’t hate me.” He couldn’t bear that.Sherri actually looked surprised.“Of course I don’t hate you, baby. I’m disappointed, but I could never hate you. You’re still my son. I love you. And that’s partly why I want you to FIX this.”Jensen pulled himself together, nodding and wiping his face.“Now get your ass in there. I’m getting lunch.”And without another word, Sherri Padalecki turned her back and walked away.Jensen knew he had a job to do. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- When Jensen entered the room, his eyes were immediately drawn to the figure in the bed. Jared was fast asleep and Jensen took the moment to take in his husband’s form.He brought his hand to his mouth to keep him from letting out the cry he could tell was begging to come out. Jared had lost weight, he was completely bald, and for the first time in the 13 years Jensen had known him, his gargantuan, strong man looked frail.And yet, he still looked unbelievably beautiful. He was still here, alive and breathing, and that was beautiful. He still somehow managed to have that glow about him that just radiated goodness and purity and love and, at least for Jensen, home and safety.Jensen slowly made his way over and sat in the abandoned chair. He took his husband’s hand in his and used the other to gently brush over the now hairless head. He couldn’t help the sob he let out this time.He had missed so much. God, what was he thinking?He didn’t have much time to wallow in his thoughts. He heard Jared let out a small noise and watched him adjust a bit in his sleep before he heard that sleep-laden voice he was so used to.“Mama?”“No, Jay, it’s me,” he answered quietly. “It’s Jen.”That caused Jared’s eyes to open quickly. He looked up at Jensen in confusion. “Jensen? What are you doing here?”More tears fell from Jensen’s eyes. Not only did it hurt like hell to be asked that question, but Jared almost never used his full first name. It was always either Jen or one of a million other nicknames and pet names he loved to use.“What do you think I’m doing here? You’re here and you’re sick. Where else do you think I’d be?”He watched Jared struggle to sit up and immediately went to help, only to be stopped by Jared’s hand on his chest, holding him back.Once Jared was situated, he looked at Jensen with eyes filled with both anger and hurt.“Where else do I think you’d be? Probably the same place you’ve been the last two weeks, ignoring all my calls and messages.”Jensen quickly explained what had happened with his mother and the cell phones, but to his horror, that only seemed to make Jared angrier. He let out a laugh that held anything but mirth.“I swear,” Jared began. “I know that woman hates me, but I never thought…God.”Jensen cut in, “She doesn’t hate you, Jay. She just…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. His mother had treated Jared like a second-class citizen for so many years, but the thought of anyone, especially someone in Jensen’s own family, hating Jared just seemed impossible. He supposed even now, his brain was still trying to rationalize his mother’s behavior.Jared shook his head. “If you can’t even see it now, Jensen, then I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t think there’s any hope.”Those words struck fear in Jensen’s heart. He wasn’t sure what his husband meant, but he knew it wasn’t good.“No. Jay. I do see it, believe me. These past two weeks, I’ve wanted to kill her. Maybe not literally, but I wanted to make her feel the same kind of pain she’s caused us. And when Megan and Jeff told us about your cancer, I…I was so disgusted with her I couldn’t even look at her. I had to restrain myself from physically throttling her.”A small, sad smile came to Jared’s face. “I appreciate the thought, Jensen, but I think it’s a bit too little too late. I’ve had a lot of time to do some thinking over the last couple weeks and I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t hold my breath and wait for the next time I become an inconvenience for you and have to hide in the background. I’m 35 years old. I’m too old for that. I think it’s just best if we cut each other loose.”It took a good few seconds for Jensen to realize that he wasn’t breathing.“What?” he let out on a croak. His voice had suddenly disappeared.“We’ll work out whatever legal stuff we have to with the kids and the houses, but I think it would be best if we go our separate ways. I love you so much, Jensen, more than anything or anyone on this planet, but I don’t deserve this. And you deserve to be happy. To be someone who doesn’t have to hide.”“What-No!” It had taken Jensen’s brain and mouth a while to catch up. Jared was leaving him. Jared wanted the equivalent of a divorce. Now he was in full-blown panic mode.“Jared. Baby, please. I know I fucked up. I know I’ve been fucking up for years. I haven’t honored those vows I said to you, but I meant them. And if it takes the rest of my life, I’ll make it up to you. I swear. Please don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you. I can’t function. I can’t survive. I won’t.”Jared let out a sigh that was pure exhaustion.“Jen, I’m just…I’m so tired. All the lying, all the hiding, I’m exhausted. And if one good thing has come out of this cancer, it’s that it’s put things in perspective. I don’t know if I can beat this cancer, and if I can’t, I don’t want to spend what time I have left like I have been. And I can’t spend it waiting around for you to be where I want you to be, to be ready.”“But, Jay! I am-“ He was cut off by the sounds of childish voices. He turned to see Veronique entering the room with his children in tow. Upon seeing him, all three children looked surprised, which, again, hurt like hell, before JJ and Shep ran over and threw their arms around him.He held them close, breathing in the scents of his babies. He hadn’t realized just how much he had missed them. He looked up to see that Thomas was still on the other side of the room, a scowl set firmly on his face.“Thomas, hey, buddy. You wanna come give me a hug?”“No,” Tom growled fiercely. “I hate you.”To say Jensen was shocked would be an understatement. He and Jared both loved all three of their children equally, but it was no secret that every member of their 5-person family had their “favorite” so to speak.JJ was a daddy’s girl through and through. Ever since she was a baby, she adored Jared. Jensen still remembers those early months of her life when the girls would keep the kids some nights. They would inevitably get a call from either Dani or Gen saying that JJ refused to sleep. No matter what either girl or Jensen tried, she would continue on wailing. Jared would say two words to her and she would instantly quiet. He’d either sing or talk to her and within minutes she’d be out like a light.The same was still true now that she was a few years older. If she wanted a story before bed, Jared had to be the one to tell it because “only Daddy does it right.” Gen and Danneel now called for nightly stories whenever they kept the kids overnight. Whether she was scared or excited by something, Jared was always the first one she ran to. They were attached at the hip. She was his “Jay-bird,” as Jared liked to call her.Sheppy, they could tell, was their special boy. There was nothing wrong with him; he was just much more reserved and quiet than his siblings. He seemed to favor both of his parents equally. If he was scared or needed help, he usually went to Jensen. When he was excited or wanted to play, it was usually Jared.And then there was Tom.Tom was Jensen’s boy. His “little man.”Jensen didn’t know if it was that he was their first born, or if that when he was younger he looked just like Jared, but he was enraptured with his little boy from the start, and Tom was equally fond of his Dad. Jensen was the only one he would allow to call him Thomas, rather than Tom. Wherever Jensen went, Tom would follow. Whatever Jensen did, Tom wanted to do too.Even now, after somehow transitioning from looking like a mini version of Jared to a mini male version of Gen, Jensen’s fondness never wavered. He had taught Tom early on how important their family was. That he and Jared always protected each other and the kids, and that as the oldest, it was Tom’s responsibility to look out for his brother and sister.He was Jensen’s little soldier. His precious, kindhearted little soldier.Which was why he was shocked to see such anger and hate thrown his way from his oldest son.“Thomas Colton!” Jared interjected fiercely, before he was interrupted.“It’s true, Daddy! He made you cry!”“What?” Jared asked quietly. No matter what internal battles he had been having regarding his and Jensen’s relationship, he had made sure to not say anything bad about him in front of the kids. He also made sure to never break down in front of them. He knew he had to be strong.“When we were on our way to Grandma and Grandpa’s. You pulled over and started crying. You asked why Donna hates you and why Dad cares more about her than he does about you.”Jared looked shocked. “But…”“You thought we were all asleep, but I wasn’t. I just kept my eyes closed.”Jared closed his eyes, sighing in defeat. He had failed in shielding his children from his pain.Tom brought his eyes back to Jensen. “Why, Dad? Why did you make Daddy cry? Why do you care about someone more than him?”Jensen was flabbergasted. He had no idea any of that had happened. And now his son was looking at him differently. Seeing him for the villain he was.“Thomas, I-““Don’t call me that!” Tom yelled.Jensen tried again to gather his words. “Tom, I’m so sorry. I love you guys and your daddy more than anything. I messed up. I cared more about what other people thought than what I was doing to my family. I love your daddy so much. I love all of you more than anything.”Tom continued to scowl before letting out his final words.“I don’t believe you.”With that, he went over to the bed and crawled up, curling against Jared’s side. Jensen watched, his heart breaking. Before long, he had to watch JJ look at him with sad eyes before following her brother, Shep copying his sister.All three kids cuddled into Jared and he put his arms around them, pulling them in close. Jensen was surprised to see Jared offer him an apologetic look with his eyes.He felt someone pulling on his arm and looked down to see Veronique.“Come on, Jen. Let’s give the kids some time with him.”Jensen wanted to fight against her. He had so much to say. To Jared. To his children. He looked at Jared one more time and was crushed to see tears in the other man’s eyes.“We’ll talk later,” Jared offered quietly.And with that, Jensen was pulled out of the room.Jensen waited until Veronique had brought him to the family waiting room before completely breaking down. He was losing everything. The love of his life wanted to leave him. He’d made his children feel like he’d abandoned them. His oldest felt the need to protect his husband from him. That’s how much he had damaged his family.His precious, beautiful family.He continued to release violent, choking sobs. Veronique held him through all of it, shushing him quietly and petting his hair.“It’ll be okay, Jensen. It’ll be okay.”How could she say that? His life was over. How could anything possibly be okay?Jensen didn’t know how long he had been crying, but eventually he felt Veronique get up, only to be replaced with a much firmer shoulder. He looked up and was shocked to see Jeff. He quickly sat up, waiting for the punch or the verbal lashing he knew had to be coming.Instead, he felt his brother-in-law put his arm around him and pull him against his side.“It’ll be okay, Jensen. You can fix this.”Jensen continued to cry for a while longer before he eventually pulled back, wiping his face.“How come you’re not punching me in the face right now?” he couldn’t help but ask.Jeff looked like he was watching a scene play out, somewhere far off in the distance, before he answered.“Maybe because I know that we both failed him. And I’m not a hypocrite.”Jensen was confused. “What are you talking about, Jeff?”“He’s my baby brother, Jensen. I’m supposed to protect him. And I didn’t.”Jensen was shocked. “Jeff, you couldn’t have-““I’m a goddamn doctor, Jensen!” Jeff yelled. “I’m a goddamn doctor, living in the same goddamn city as you, and I didn’t fucking see it! I should have seen it. I-“Jensen watched on in shock as the other man broke down. He knew he should offer some form of reassurance, like the fact that he and Jared had been in Vancouver for most of the year, but he knew it wouldn’t do much good. When you carried the kind of guilt he carried, that Gerry carried, that he now saw Jeff carried, no one’s words could convince you otherwise. So, instead, he pulled Jeff to him and the two of them cried together, huddled alone in that same family waiting room.After a while, they both pulled back and began to compose themselves.“Is that why you bought the plane tickets?” Jensen asked.Jeff nodded. “I felt like I had to do something. Something to help him.”Jensen nodded in understanding. They sat there in silence for a few more moments before Jensen spoke again.“What am I going to do, Jeff? He doesn’t want anything to do with me. I’m gonna lose him. I can’t let that happen. I can’t. I won’t survive that.” Jensen hunched over, head in his hands as he contemplated everything he was about to lose.“What you do,” Jeff began sternly, “is you prove yourself. You don’t back out, you don’t leave. You show him that you’re in this. You don’t run away. You know Jared’s always been an ‘actions speak louder than words’ kind of guy. Show him that you won’t leave that easily.”He paused for a second before he chuckled to himself. “And if you can throw in a grand gesture or two, that’d probably help too.” They shared knowing smiles. They both knew Jared loved big, grand gestures. He often put so much thought and effort into things like anniversaries or Jensen’s birthday. Jensen thought for a while before a thought hit him like a ton of bricks. He turned to Jeff with wide eyes.“I need your help.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Okay. You got it?”Sitting at a table in one of the hospital’s consultation rooms, Jensen watched his brother-in-law fiddle with his camera.Jeff made one final check to make sure he was at a good height and then nodded.“Yep. Aaand…” He made a single tap. “We’re on.”Jensen lifted his arm to wave once at the camera. “Hey, y’all. This video has been a long time coming. There are a lot of things I need to tell you, but I need to first start with the most important: I am madly in love with Jared Tristan Padalecki. I’ve been in love with him for the past 13 years. I haven’t been doing a good job of showing it recently, but that man is the most important part of my life and I love him more than I ever thought I could love another person.”Jensen let out a big whoosh of breath. Finally.Fucking finally.He continued, “Okay. I just had to get that out. That’s something I’ve been wanting to say in public for the past 13 years.I’m sure most of you guys have seen that video that Jared posted. When I saw it…I was both beyond proud and just as heartbroken. In that video, Jared included me in his list of supportive “friends” and that just about killed me. Jared has wanted to come out for years. Let me tell you, in case you haven’t figured it out by now, that man has the most courage I’ve ever seen in a human being. He didn’t care if coming out would affect his career. He wanted to be his honest self and was ready for whatever ramifications that brought with it. I was the coward. I was the one who was too scared to be out about who I was. Even when it got to be unbearable…” Jensen swallowed the sudden lump in his throat as tears began to prick at the corners of his eyes. “…when Jared would have fucking breakdowns…I was never brave enough to give up the charade.”He went back to the beginning. He talked about meeting Jared for the first time at that audition, how for the first and only time in his life, he felt an instant connection with someone. How he was immediately attracted to Jared’s beauty, but by the end of the day, he felt like he had known him forever.He talked about the pressure from the network to find beards once it was out that they were dating. How agonizing it was to watch the love of his life pretend to be in love with someone else, and how he hated himself for having to do the same thing with Dani.He talked about their wedding, their real wedding, and how perfect it was, but also how his mother didn’t believe it was “real.”He talked about their family…how much he loved all of the Padaleckis and how they had treated him like family from the beginning. He explained the complicated relationship with his parents, while his siblings were more than supportive.Finally, he explained what happened before Christmas. How his choices had essentially cost him his family, with his son hating him and his husband wanting to separate.“I know I deserve every punishment I’m getting right now, but I hope this video is one small step towards showing my family how determined I am to be a better husband and a better father. Thanks for listening, guys. Please keep Jared in your thoughts. Always keep fighting.” He waved to the camera again before Jeff pressed ‘stop.’Both men were silent as Jensen wiped his eyes. Finally, Jeff spoke.“Well. I think you’re on your way to redemption, little brother.”Jensen let out a single wet chuckle. “Do you really think it’ll make a difference?”“You just confessed your undying love for Jared and claimed your family for all the world to see. That’s a grand gesture if I’ve ever seen one. You still got a hell of a lot of work to do, but it’s a start.”Jensen flashed a genuine smile. For the first time in the past two weeks…maybe even longer than that…he felt hope beginning to build.“So…” Jeff cut into his thoughts. "What are we calling this video?”Jensen thought for a moment. He remembered a convention from years ago, when Jared joked about wanting JTP to be the new JTT. He chuckled to himself as he typed in the name of the video on his Facebook and Twitter pages.I <3 JTP
10708572	Beacon High	{ "Archive Warning": null, "Category": null, "Characters": "Ruby Rose (RWBY), Weiss Schnee, Yang Xiao Long, Blake Belladonna, Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, Nora Valkyrie, Lie Ren, Ozpin (RWBY), Taiyang Xiao Long, Cardin Winchester, Dove Bronzewing, Sky Lark, Russel Thrush, Velvet Scarlatina, Coco Adel, Yatsuhashi Daichi, Fox Alistair, Sun Wukong (RWBY), Cinder Fall, Neptune Vasilias, Neopolitan (RWBY), Zwei (RWBY), Salem (RWBY), Roman Torchwick, Adam Taurus, Klein Sieben", "Fandom": "RWBY", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by Harbinger00", "chapters": "3/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-23T00:00:00", "words": "7,153", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "RWBY", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death", "Categories": "F/F, F/M, M/M", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Chapter 1: Epilogue Red like roses fills my dreams and brings me to the place you rest, I trudged along an old gravel walkway, with my hood up and my headphones on, I listened to the mellow and melancholic music as I made my way back home after spending the day in a car repair shop near her home with my uncle, Qrow. Today wasn’t a very busy day, meaning I got to leave early and spend the rest of her afternoon with my sister. White is cold and always yearning, burdened by the royal test, I have always had an affinity for mechanics, seeing as how I could always understand the parts of a machine better than I could a person. Qrow taught a mechanics class in Signal once, before my time, and opened up a car repair shop, he figured instead of teaching mechanics he would actually do something regarding it. Qrow was getting older and needed some help around the shop and he figured it would be a good learning experience for me, an offer I eagerly accepted as Qrow had become my own idol, I picked up his interests in mechanics, and soon enough I nearly became an expert in that field, knowing what was wrong with a machine just by looking at it. Sadly, however, it was only a summer job, and this joyous season was coming to an end.Qrow wasn’t really her uncle, he was Yang’s, but he became a family member to me as well, as I had started to call him uncle as well. Black the beast descends from shadows, yellow beauty burns… gold~ The song went into a more upbeat tune, becoming totally instrumental instead of there being any vocals, which made the beat irresistible to pat on my legs as I walked. Because Qrow was already her tutor, he took it upon himself to teach me more advanced things along the way, so instead of being a freshman, I would start off the new school year as a junior.As the beat of the song slowed down, there was a slight pause, until it picked back up again, except much faster, and then I couldn’t help but hum with the tune.As the song slowed to a stop, I got closer to my home; a rather large cabin for a family of three, each member had a room of their own, including a guest room in case her uncle decided to drop in for a week or so.As I slowed to a stop, she checked her phone to see what time it was.‘2:30,’ Ruby thought to herself, ‘Maybe me and Yang can play a little Street Fighter…’I still had yet to beat my older sister, Yang had a streak of 7 wins in a row, and after that, Ruby made a vow that she would break that streak.Yang had always been good at fighting, real or not, it’s always been a gift of hers. I remember one time, in middle school, some boys were bullying me and were calling me lewd names. One day, I came home crying about it and I told Yang all about the three boys who were picking on me. The next day, I discovered that the two gooneys had black eyes and broken noses, and the leader had both his eyes blackened, an arm broken, and a few cracked ribs. They never even looked in my direction ever again.I grabbed the keys from my pocket and unlocked the door to my home, my dad wasn’t back yet due to his busy work schedule, he teaches physical science at Signal Academy for summer school.As I opened the door, I called out for her older sister to see if she was home.“Yang?” I called out, “Yaaaaaang,”“Hey, little sis!” Yang called from the loft that led to their two bedrooms, she was dressed in a yellowish-orange tank top and grey sweatpants, her golden hair was pulled into one massive ponytail, she leaned over the railing on the loft , “You’re home awfully early.”“Yeah, work was kind of slow today, so Uncle Qrow let me leave early,” I replied with a shrug, “what have you been up to while I’ve been gone?“Not much,” she replied, “just getting ready for school later this week, gotta start packing for the dorms, ya know?”I had totally forgotten about that, Yang was just accepted into the most prestigious private school in all of Vale. Beacon Academy. One more thing I had forgotten about was that she would be leaving their home, and Ruby wouldn’t have anybody to hang out with. Beacon High was hundreds of miles into the heart of the continent of Vale and too far away for them to see each other that often.“Awwwww,” I pouted and pleaded, “please don’t leave me.”“Rubes, I gotta, you know that,” Yang said with her brows furrowed, “I wish I didn’t have to, but Beacon is at least 8 hours away, and I can’t drive to and from there everyday.”“Then take me with you!” I put on my infamous puppy dog face, “Pleeeeease?”“If I could, you know I would,” She knew better than to make eye contact, so she averted her gaze until I wiped the heart-melting expression off my face, “but only students or kids on field trips are allowed on campus.”“I know,” I trailed off, “I’m just gonna miss you…”Tears started to well up in my eyes, ‘me and Yang do almost everything together! What am I supposed to do when she’s gone?’“Rube…” Yang made her way down the stairs leading to the loft, “I’m still gonna visit when I get a chance to, you know that, don’t you?”“Of course! It just won’t be the same,” Tears began to fall, “I’m gonna miss sharing funny stories with you, and playing games with you, and riding on your motorcycle with you, and-”Yang cut her off with a hug, “Ruby, we can do all of those things when I come back home for holidays or something!” She held the hug, “Besides, you’re still planning on applying for Beacon, right?”She was right. I did intend on joining as soon as this new school year began, because of my good grades, that meant I had a good chance on being able to apply and be accepted into Beacon High. Beacon was a lot like a college, hence the need to apply, however, a student that desires to join such a prestigious academy was required to have phenomenal grades.She sniffled, “Yeah…”“Then you have nothing to worry about!” Yang said with a big smile, “I’ll be seeing you soon!”“But what if I don’t get in?” I started to panic, “Then what do I do? What if I hardly ever see you anymore?” What if-”“Hey,” Yang pulled away and grasped her shoulders firmly, “You are beyond your years in nearly every subject, Headmaster Ozpin would be insane if he never let you in.”“I know…”“Rube, I’m serious.”I wiped the tears from my eyes and my face, I then willed my silver eyes to meet Yang’s lilac ones, “I know.”“Good!” Yang patted my left shoulder, “Now, I need to finish packing up some of the smaller stuff, stuff you don’t need to worry about, so I should be done in about, say, an hour? Yeah that sounds about right,” she began to walk back up the stairs, “watch some TV or something and I should be done around that time.”As Yang made her way back upstairs, I made my own way into the kitchen to find an afternoon snack, ‘I wonder if any cookies are left…’, as I was about to find out, a loud knock echoed throughout the entirety of the Xiao Long-Rose household. As I was about to go answer the door, Yang’s older sibling senses kicked in.“Uh-uh-uh,” Yang hurried her way down the stairs, “you let me take care of this, sit down in the living room or something.”As I began to make my way to the living room, I heard Yang greet a familiar person she had only heard of in conversations, “Headmaster Ozpin? What are you doing here?”, Yang asked incredulously.I quickly hid behind doorway that lead into the living room to listened into the conversation between her older sister and the headmaster of Beacon Academy. I peeked from the doorway to get a better look at the man named Ozpin, “May I come in? I was hoping to speak with you and your younger sister.”“Of course,” Yang opened the door so that the middle-aged man could have plenty of room to get in, “make yourself at home.”Although he leaned on his cane for support, the man was a staggering six and a half feet tall, with a slim build and a pale complexion, he wore a black cardigan with a thick, green scarf around his neck, tucked into said cardigan. The man had soft, brown eyes behind small glasses, all paired with silver, tousled hair.“Thank you,” he limped through the doorway, looking at pictures all the while, until he caught me staring at him while he did so, “Hello, and might you be Miss Rose?”“Eep!” I leapt out of my once safe hiding place and greeted him with a red face, “Y-Yes! Are you Headmaster Ozpin? Of Beacon Academy?”He let out a small chuckle, “Yes I am,” he continued to walk forward, “and it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he held out his hand for me to shake, and let’s just say I shook it a little too long for comfort.“May we sit down?” Ozpin asked politely, “my knee is giving me quite the trouble.”“Of course!” Yang said, breaking the awkward tension, “right this way, sir.”Yang led him to the kitchen and pulled out a chair for him to sit in, he leaned his cane against the table and slowly sat down as to not make his knee go out and make him awkwardly fall on his rear.“Can I get you anything to drink?” Yang asked in the most polite tone she could give.“Some coffee would be lovely,” Ozpin said with a smile.“Coming right up!” Yang said as she made her way to the coffee maker, “stronger or normal?”“Just normal would be nice,”“How about anything to eat?”“No thank you,” Ozpin said in his cheery and kind tone, “I ate before I came here, the trip from Beacon is a long one.”“Speaking of which, why exactly did you need to talk to us?” Yang asked with as much curiosity as I was feeling.“Ah yes,” He leaned forward as to grab our attention a bit more, “As I was doing research about you, Miss Xiao Long, I noticed your younger sister was quite the scholar too.”Yang giggled, “It’s intimidating, really,” I chuckled out of nervousness and blushed at the compliment.Ozpin laughed along as well, “Yes, well, I noticed that this upcoming year, Miss Rose would be eligible to join my academy as well, and I wanted to give her the option if she so desired to.”I gasped in shock, ‘I can join Beacon Academy now!?’, “S-Sir, I don’t know what to say, of course yes! Thank you! Thank you so much! I mean, I’ll have to ask my dad, but-”“No need to worry about that, Miss Rose,” Ozpin said with anticipation in his eyes, “I have already talked to your father about it, he said he would be beyond happy if we would have you.”“Then yes, sir!” I smiled more than I thought humanly possible, “I would love to go to your school!”“Then it’s settled then,” Ozpin gave a warm smile, “I will hopefully be seeing you later this week then.”“You won’t be disappointed, sir!” Ruby said adamantly, “Thank you.”As I said thank you for the tenth time, Yang handed a mug of coffee to Ozpin, “Thank you, sir,” Yang said with a smile.“Honestly,” Ozpin said with a shrug, “it’s no trouble.”As Ozpin finished his cup of coffee, he stood up as slowly as he had attempted to sit down, “I must be going then, I will be seeing the both of you when this semester starts, thank you both for having me.”As Ozpin walked out, Yang turned to me, “I told you I’d be seeing you soon!” Yang scooped me up in a big embrace, one of which I happily returned.“I know! I mean, I didn’t know that quick, but still,” I let out a hearty laugh, “I have to start packing up too!”As I turned to the stairs, Yang soon followed along to finish up her own packing, I made a mad dash towards my room and went to work immediately.‘I can’t believe this is happening!’ I thought excitedly, ‘I get to go to Beacon!’All things considered, this truly has been the best day of my life. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Chapter 2: Welcome to Beacon, Part I I was not having a good day. Father was far too busy with his work in order to come with me to Vale, even though he was the one who recommended I even go to Beacon Academy, when I was just content with going to Atlas Academy, where I could have gotten just as good, if not better education than in Vale . Ugh, how she hated her father’s decisions. I mean, he’s the leader of the Schnee Fossil Fuel Company, time isn’t a variable with that man, he makes the time because he practically commands it. The very least he could have done is rent my own jet until I got to Beacon. But instead I had to sit in a cabin with other people, constantly in fear that her valuables are being crushed by the weight of other people’s luggage. The next most miserable thing was a blonde-haired boy who was sitting just a few seats away, ready to throw up at any given moment, his face as pale as the shattered moon. Although, I suppose he can’t help it. After another ten minutes of him tossing and turning in his seat, desperately try to hold in his lunch, I saw him dash towards the bathroom at inhuman speeds, shoving another passenger out of the way just to get to the small, unkempt bathroom. “Sorry!” He shouted rather loudly, “Excuse me!” It wasn’t until a mere three seconds that everyone in that cabin heard violent retching sounds coming from said area. He came out a few minutes later with a more healthier complexion than he had gone in with, making his navy blue eyes look more arctic and calm. As he was walking back to his seat, I noticed a bulky male with a brown pompadour snicker at him, but the young blonde didn’t seem to notice. When he got back to his seat, he practically body slammed into the seat and threw his head back, flipping his long, blonde hair in the process. I let out a small puff through my nostrils and went back to looking out the window, counting down the seconds as they passed. I was eager to get off this damned flight and be on my merry way. I looked down at my pure white wristwatch to see just how much longer I had to be on this flight, ‘ 1:30, and we’re supposed to land in Vale at 3:45, so at least another two hours left of this,’ it was then my turn to throw my head back in exasperation, as my eagerness turned to impatience, putting me in a far more foul mood. I watched as a flight attendant walk by, “Excuse me, miss?” She turned her head to see the source of the voice, “may I have some champagne, please? “I’m sorry, ma’am,” her eyebrows creased, “I will have to see some I.D., first.” “Of course,” I pull out my small light blue and white purse, and grab my I.D., “Here you go!” She took a minute to scan for an age, “Ma’am, this says you’re only 17,” the flight attendant had an apologetic expression on her face. I chuckled to myself for a second, “How about you look for a name?” My face grew serious at the end of that sentence. The flight attendant’s eyes widened at the sudden realization of who she was questioning, “Miss Schnee, my sincerest apology, I will fetch your wine immedia-” “Champagne, actually,” I corrected her, “And no worries.” With another apologetic look, the flight attendant hurried off to grab my drink. As soon as she does, I hear someone a few seats behind me scoff at the whole scene. I look back at them, “Is there a problem?” The same bulky male with the brown pompadour was the source of the noise. As I met his eyes, I took a better look at him, he wore a black polo shirt paired with khakis and black dress shoes, the outfit made the blue in his eyes pop out that much more. After a few seconds of staring, he gave a shit-eating grin and turned towards the window of his own seat, acting as though he had enough of our own little staring contest. I scoffed again, “Dolt,” I mumbled beneath my breath and turned back around, and by the time I did, the flight attendant returned with a silver tray, with two tiny bottles of champagne and a wine glass. “Here you go, Miss Schnee,” She handed me the wine glass, opened one bottle of champagne, and began to pour, “again, my most sincerest of apologies.” “It’s no trouble at all,” I give my best smile to her and she smiles back. As she turns to serve another passenger, I take a sip of my drink and look out of the window again, ‘I hope this flight ends without anymore disruptions, or I swear to God I’m going to-’ Her inner monologue was cut off due to turbulence, and ended up spilling the champagne all over her white dress, ‘Just wonderful,’ as she ended her statement with a completely non-sarcastic statement. The rest of the flight had been rather peaceful, aside from the motion sick blond boy having to run to the bathroom at least another four times. As soon as we landed, I was one of the first people to get off the plane, eager to stretch out my legs after such a long trip. I made my way into the airport to retrieve my luggage. I had at least ten suitcases that needed carrying, more than what I could carry, so I had to grab a nearby cart. After I loaded the last of my belongings from the baggage conveyer belt in the center of the airport, I wheeled it outside where there was a limousine waiting for me. The driver of the limo was an older, chubbier man in a black vest on top of a white, button up shirt. He wore black dress pants and black dress shoes to match. He had balding brown hair and soft brown eyes. He was holding up a sign that said, ‘Weiss Schnee’. As I approached him, he looked as though he was caught off guard and jumped after I said hello to him. “Wha! Oh!” The driver attempted to regain his composure, “Hello, Miss Schnee.” He gave a courteous bow. “Hello, Klein” I replied as politely as I could, “it’s nice to see you again.” “Yes,” he smiled, “it’s good to see you too, little snowflake.” I smiled at him and his kindness, “We should get going, I don’t want to miss orientation.” “Of course!” Klein opened the door to the limousine, “You let me worry about your luggage, you just relax from your trip.” “Thank you,” I breathed a sigh of relief. As I made my way into the car, I heard that the radio was on, talking about the eco-terrorists, the White Fang. “Although the White Fang were once a group of peaceful protestors, determined to save nature from the destruction of industries, the White Fang have recently been sabotaging equipment within these facilities, causing them to malfunction and harm workers, injuring dozens of people. Led by a wanted criminal, Adam Taurus, the White Fang have become a dangerous group to both small and big corporations. Join us with-” As Klein entered the car, he turned off the radio immediately after. “We need not worry about this now, little snowflake,” Klein said with assurance, “Let’s just focus on taking you to that orientation, yes?” I smiled at Klein as he pulled out of the parking lot and made way to Beacon Academy. The sheer size of Beacon was impressive, even shocking me, of all people, by how nice this academy was. I took in the view, only focusing on the building. Klein somehow managed to fit another cart into the limousine, making that job several times easier. “Here you go, little snowflake,” Klein said with fondness, “I hope this school will be a good fit for you.” “I hope so too, Klein,” I said absently, “I hope so too.” As I was admiring the view, I heard bits and pieces of conversations all around while I did so. “Chill, Rubes,” I heard one girl say to another, “they’re just cars.” “Just cars? Yang, they’re the most ingenious thing to ever grace this planet!” “You’re such a dork,” and that was all I heard of the conversation. I began to wheel all of my luggage into beacon, ‘the sooner I get in, the better.’ As I was attempting to make my way into Beacon, a young, black haired with red tips at the end was yelling for the person she call ‘Yang’. She wasn’t looking and ran right into her cart, spilling the contents of one small suitcase. The suitcase that held her treasured belongings. “What do you think you’re doing?!” I screeched with an authoritative voice, “Don’t you know that some of that stuff is sensitive ?!” I saw my small music box land several feet away, next to a girl with black hair and a ribbon to match. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see where I was going, and I was lost, and-” “And nothing! You can’t just go around, running into people’s things without even thinking of where you’re going, what makes you think that’s okay?” I was fuming at this point, so much built up anger from all of this nonsense that has happened all day long and now this? “Look, princess, ” it was obvious she was reaching her melting point, “I didn’t mean to-” “It’s heiress, actually,” An unfamiliar voice interrupted the soon-to-be argument, “Weiss Schnee, right? Heir to the Schnee Fossil Fuel Company” Finally, some recognition, and she had my music box! “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am-” She interrupted once more, “Ah yes, the Schnee Fossil Fuel Company, responsible for releasing all kinds of pollutants into the air, bodies of water and wildlife.” “What? How dare-” Enough of this, she snatched her music box away from the mystery girl that was accusing her of all of these things, “Ugh!” I threw all of my stuff very unorderly onto the cart and got away from the situation as quickly as possible. However, I still held the music box in my hands, as to make sure it wouldn’t fall again. As soon as I was in the clear, I eagerly wound up my music box just to make sure nothing was damaged, and I was relieved to hear the faint tune of ‘Hushabye Mountain’ coming from the small musical instrument. I quickly closed the music box and tried to drive out the memory of my mother, the memory of how she always sang that song to her and her sister, Winter, every night they had trouble sleeping. I quickly wiped away any tears that threatened to fall, ‘I can’t cry here, I have to get to the orientation,’ and with that one objective in mind, I made my way to the auditorium for the orientation. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Chapter 3: Welcome to Beacon, Part II As I entered the airport, I ran to the conveyor belt to grab my luggage that contained a few outfits, my onesie, a toothbrush, a grey rain jacket and some deodorant. I waited for ten minutes until I saw a brown suitcase with duct tape wrapped around the handle, making it easier to differentiate from other people's’ suitcases in case their suitcases were brown too. As soon as I saw it I grabbed it and tore right through the suitcase, digging desperately for my toothbrush. After making a large mess around me, I finally found the small case that held my toothbrush, the solution to my biggest problem, bad breath. You see, vomiting on a plane five times really does a number on your breath, making you all the more self-conscious. After setting the toothbrush to my side, I threw all of my clothes back into the suitcase, but as I was about to grab my toothbrush, some jerk, accidentally or on purpose, ended up kicking the case that my toothbrush was held in, sliding it farther away from me. “No!” I made a sprint for it, but as soon as I was about to bend down and grab it again, it was kicked again by another traveler, sliding it from my grasp yet again. “Stop!” And it happened. “Quit kicking it!” Again. “What?!” And again. “Why me?!” And again. “Dammit!” And again. “Get back here!” And once again. “Argh!” I’ve had enough of this, I made a roll for the plastic container that held the only solution for my vomit breath, and I finally caught it in the middle of it’s repetitious act, “Aha! I’ve got you now! However, when I was walking, it made the toothbrush container shake with every step I took, but there was no shaking to be heard, just a light weight in his hands. “Please don’t tell me…” I opened it to hopefully prove myself wrong, but was horrified to see that the toothbrush container was as hollow as my will to live, “Awww, man.” Angrily, I made my way back to where I abandoned my suitcase, thankful to see that it hadn’t been stolen. I set the empty toothbrush container inside the suitcase, zipped it up, and made my way outside. ‘Maybe there’s a grocery store around here somewhere…’ As I was walking towards the nearby bus stop about three blocks away, I pulled out my phone and looked at the bus schedule and it’s route, the good news was that Beacon Academy was only ten minutes away, the bad news is that there wasn’t a grocery store anywhere near the route the bus was taking, which means me and the people I talk to will just have to deal with my vomit breath until the orientation ends. As I continued to walk to the bus stop, I noticed a beautiful stranger, vibrant red hair and emerald eyes that seemed to draw the attention of every living being, or at least, she grabbed mine. She wore a knee-length red dress that fit well over her figure, with a pair of dark gold high heels. It wasn’t until she looked at me did I notice I was staring at her, turning my face nearly as red as her hair. I tried playing it cool the only way I knew how. “Hey, look at that!” I pointed to a bird. Nailed it. She seemed confused for a moment until she started laughing, as she saw just what I was pointing to, “What? You mean the blue jay?” She continued to laugh and only until the bus arrived did it slack off gradually. Gradually being the key word. As we made our way onto the public transit system, a few heads turned at her quiet, but noticeable giggle, and after a while I started to laugh as well, showing my vulnerability to such an infectious sound. “Oh,” she wiped a small tear starting to form on the corner of her eye, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, I just-” She was cut off by more laughter. “I’m sorry,” her laughter started to cease, “I don’t know what was so funny, it was quite charming honestly.” “It’s okay,” it felt good to laugh. To smile, “To be honest, I just didn’t want you to think I was intentionally staring.” “It’s fine,” warmness in her voice enveloped me, “I space out a lot too.” After a few moments of silence, she broke the deafening sound, “You wouldn’t happen to know who I am, would you?.” “Um,” the question caught me off guard, “I can’t say I do, should I?” “No,” it was noticeable that some tension in her shoulders had been released, “I’m glad you don’t, it seems too many people know who I am.” She spaced out on the second part, letting even more silence echo between us. Now it was my turn to break it. “ Who are you?” I said, curiosity getting the best of me, and after a moment of her just staring, she finally answered. “Pyrrha,” she said with what appeared to be a genuine smile, “Pyrrha Nikos.” “Well,” I put my hand out for the shaking, “I’m Jaune Arc, and you wouldn’t happen to have any gum, would you?” She covered her mouth with her hand, stifling more laughter, “Sure,” she fished a pack of cinnamon gum from her tarnished gold purse, “here you go.” “Thank you so much,” I eagerly grab two pieces of gum and went to town on them immediately, feeling the effects turn the bad taste in my mouth into a far more tolerable one. I handed the pack of gum back to her and she placed it back into her purse. “Not a problem,” she cheerily replied, “I noticed your suitcase,” she motioned down towards the brown case, holding an underwhelming amount of supplies.” “Oh yeah!” I had nearly forgotten about that, “I’m not from Vale, I arrived from Atlas to attend Beacon Academy.” “You too?” She looked surprised, “Well then, I’ll be seeing you at orientation I guess!” “Yeah,” I gave a wide grin, “Save me a seat?” “Sure thing!” She laughed, we carried on a normal conversation, talking about things we liked, what we wanted to do after school, all of that. Sadly, the exchange was cut short not due to arriving at Beacon, but the yelling that was a lot more clear once the doors of the bus opened. “I’m so sorry!” said a younger girl with black hair with red tips, “ I didn't see where I was going, and I was lost, and-” “And nothing! You can't just go around running into people's things without even thinking of where you're going, what makes you think that's okay?" an older, white haired girl said while towering over her, she may have had white hair, but she was anything but old, she was most definitely in my age range. I looked at Pyrrha and she nodded, as though we had come to some silent agreement. “Do you want to break it up? Or would you like me to?” Pyrrha asked confidently, ready to help in any way she can. “Like I said,” I walked away from Pyrrha, looking back and flashing a bright smile all the while, “Save me a seat in the auditorium!” She smiled back and made her way in the direction of the school, and as I see her walking away, I notice just how grand the school actually is, filtering out the argument that made me get off the bus first, I focused on the fine details of Beacon Academy. The school was shaped very much like the Disney castle you’d see in the opening of the movies and shows, the highest point of the castle being as pointy as an elf’s ears, and all other towers surrounding the school sloped off at a perfect, forty-five degree angle, making the most OCD of people satisfied. The next thing was the entrance, light gray and thick concrete walls that seemed to protect the school from any outside threats, and it all lead into it’s own little park, complete with ponds and forestry. ‘Focus, Jaune!’ I chastised myself internally, ‘you’re walking this direction to break up this argument, not to gawk at the school.’ When I turned my attention back to the fight, I noticed a new face, a black haired girl who had a matching bow on top of her head, she had golden eyes that seemed to glow in the light and light skin, but it was still evident that she had spent some time in the sun, making her look several shades darker in comparison to the white haired girl, as she could almost pass off as an albino. I saw the white haired girl yank something out of the black haired girl’s hands, storming off in a frenzy. I noticed the younger girl with the red-tipped hair attempt to say something to her apparent savior, but had either not heard her, or ignored her. Either way, she is to be praised to stop that one girl’s tyranny. The younger girl slumped down in defeat, and said just loud enough for people who were close enough to hear: “Welcome to Beacon…” and then curled up in an upright ball with her arms around her knees. “Hey,” I said nervously, expecting that it was her turn to blow up, either way I held out my hand to help her up, “I’m Jaune, and you look like you need a friend.” “I’m Ruby,” she smiled faintly, obviously still upset at the argument that happened before the ‘knight in shining armor’ arrived, “and a friend sounds really nice right about now.” ______________________________________________________________________________ “All I’m saying is, motion sickness is a much more common problem than what people let on!” I made the stupid decision to recount all of my plights to the young girl named Ruby, who was laughing all the while when I told her my many difficulties that came with today. “I’m sorry,” Ruby put her hands up defensively, “Vomit Boy was the first thing that came to mind.” “Oh yeah,” I wiggled my eyebrows deviously, “what if I started calling you... kid?” A moment of silence passed, making me fear that I had gone over the line, until she finally spoke. “Fair,” She decided that the argument had come to an understanding, and that was to not call each other names that may cause sudden agitation. More silence soon followed. “So how did you get into Beacon? I asked, “I mean, there’s no doubt you’re smart, but I thought this place was only accessible to juniors and seniors.” “I was always at the top of my class, and since Yang got into Beacon, Headmaster Ozpin did some research on me as well and allowed me to come to Beacon early.” “Wow,” that was all I could say, I had no idea the person he was talking to was so smart. But then he wondered, is that the truth? Or did she come here by other means? He really couldn’t be one to judge. Beacon was unbelievably hard to get into, so I can see why someone would be willing to do whatever they needed to in order to make their transcripts nice and neat. “So why did you help me?” Ruby asked, snapping me out of my thoughts, “I mean, I appreciate it, but I haven’t even met you until today and you’ve been nothing but nice to me, what gives? “My mom always said strangers are just friends you’ve never met yet.” I said easily, wanting to let the younger girl know I had the purest of intentions as far as reaching out to her. Ruby seemed pleased at that answer and went back to walking with me, unaware of the time that was passing before them. “Where are we going?” She asked inquisitively, “I enjoy walking around, but we’ve been doing this for a while now, haven’t we?” “Honestly, I have no idea,” I answered truthfully, “I’ve just been following you. I haven’t really been keeping track of where we’ve been, I’ve just been talking.” She pulled her phone out, “it’s 11:39 and orientation starts at twelve, so we may need to find a directory. “That might take too long,” I looked around for a directory, although there were none to be seen, “We can probably make out way back to the front of the school and follow the crowd, it would be much more easier.” She nodded her head as I turned to lead the way back to the entrance of the school, walking at a faster pace in order to get there in time for both the orientation and to snag the seat Pyrrha had hopefully saved for me. After a following the trail me and Ruby had been walking on for so long, it led back to the main entrance of the school. We still had plenty of time to spare by the time we walked through the grand doors of the school, and with that fact in mind, we didn’t have to rush to find the auditorium, giving us both a lot more wiggle room as far as ‘taking time’ was concerned. Within a few minutes of searching, we found said area, making our way inside to, yet again, gawk at an amazing piece of architecture. To say it was impressive would be an understatement, as a glass ceiling covered the entirety of the area, allowing all students to bask in natural light as opposed to a more signature auditorium in most high schools, all of them being poorly lit and stuffy. The walls were a stainless white marble, tall and round pillars that seemed to stretch on for fifteen or so feet, supporting the glass ceiling. The room was rounded into a perfect circle, with bleachers surrounding the area above ten feet in the air, giving more space for students and staff alike to sit in case the already vast area was too cramped. The next most noticeable thing was the stage where we would be hearing Headmaster Ozpin welcome us to his school, it only stood about five feet in tall, making it fairly easy to climb up on the stage without the use of the stairs on either side of the stage. “Hey, Ruby!” A blonde yelled, her voice very clear, even against the conversations of the crowd, “I saved you a seat!” “Ooh,” she turned to me, “ I gotta go now, Jaune, but thank you for helping me!” She waved me off and made her way to over to the vacant seat next to the blonde, a small argument that seemed to follow almost as soon as she sat down. After hearing the word ‘seat’, I wondered where Pyrrha was and if she saved me a spot. My eyes scanned for her and after a solid minute of standing there, looking, I heard a clear and proper voice call out my name. “Jaune!” I looked to see where it came from and I saw Pyrrha wave me over, signalling towards the seat she had kept open for me. I smiled and made my way past clustered groups of people. “Excuse me! Pardon! Gotta get through! Sorry!” I wiggled my way through walls of people and finally made it to the seat where my new friend was, relieved to find she had stayed true on her promise. “Hello!” Pyrrha’s voice rang happily, “I hope this seat is okay.” “Oh yeah,” I said reassuringly, “a little of something is always better than all of nothing.” Her brows rose with agreement, as well as a smile that soon followed. Before I could carry on a conversation, the room grew silent as Ozpin walked onto stage and tapped his microphone. “May I have your attention please?” Silence soon follows, “thank you.” “I’ll keep this brief,” he began, “You have traveled here today in search of knowledge, to hone your craft and acquire new skills, and when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your skills to whatever it is that you desire to do. But I look amongst you, and all I see is wasted energy, in need of purpose, direction. You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge will only carry you so far. It is up to you to take the first step.” ‘He seemed… out of it.’ I thought internally, I was snapped out of any thoughts once more, by another woman who stepped on stage. “You all will gather at the ballroom tonight - tomorrow, your initiation begins.” She added at the end of Ozpin’s speech, “Be ready, you are dismissed!” “Initiation?” I said aloud, “What does she mean by ‘be ready’?” I began to panic, I felt my blood run cold, it doesn’t matter how I prepare for whatever lies ahead, I won’t ever be ready! I started to hyperventilate, I felt the walls close in on me, my world was spinning and my heart felt like it would burst out of my chest. “Jaune?” Pyrrha looked worried, “are you okay?” Afraid that I was going to have an audience, I steeled my nerves and began to gather my bearings. ‘You need to breath, Jaune,’ I chided internally, ‘breath.’ I met Pyrrha’s eyes, “I’m fine, I just remembered something, that’s all.” She didn’t look convinced, but decided to drop it anyways. “Okay then,” she gave a smile, “well, if you need something, don’t hesitate to ask!” “Thank you,” I said, finally gaining a bit of composure back. Deep down, I still feared for tomorrow, but I had to keep a level head if I wanted to pass of as though there wasn’t a worry in the world, “I’m going to go make a run to the grocery store, I’ll be back soon, I just can’t go without one.” I pushed myself out of my seat. “Okay,” she made her way up as well, “I’ll see you later then!” “Sounds good,” I made my way out of the auditorium, pushing my way out of the crowd once again. I had to get out of here, get some fresh air. As I finally made it outside of the school building, I finally let the emotions flow, my face stating the concern without the words ever needing to be said. Chances are, I’m going home after tomorrow, with more shame to my name than there ever has been. But I had to keep pressing forward, even if it means the truth comes out.
10704744	A New Class	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore, Draco Malfoy", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-23T00:00:00", "words": "263", "Additional Tags": "Magical sex ed, snape - Freeform, Slytherin", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	"Sir, I have a hard time believing this request is serious." This had better be a joke from Dumbledore. There's no way he could actually think I'd be willing to do this."I assure you, Severus, I am quite serious. With Madame Lestrade gone, I've decided it is now up to the heads of house to take up this responsibility. I have already discussed it with Minerva, Filius, and Pomona. All have agreed this is the best course of action. Now, the matter is final and there will be no more discussion on this. Irma will give you the literature you need. Good day, Severus."This was going to be so humiliating. I could already tell. Two days later, I enter the dungeon, seeing all my First through fourth year Slytherins. This was not what I signed up for when I agreed to be potions master of Hogwarts."Hello, class. I am sure you are all wondering why you are in a mixed year, Slytherin only class. Welcome to Magic Sexual Education. Madame Lestrade has retired and the headmaster saw it fit to pass this class on to the heads of house." The students look at each other awkwardly, looking as I feel internally. I struggle not to blush. A single hand raises in the back of the class from a blond haired boy."Sir, will you also be teaching us Same sex education?" A certain Draco Malfoy tentatively ventures. This time I can't stop the blush creeping up my face as I just about die of mortification."Yes, Mr. Malfoy," I whisper.
10796793	Love Can Be Eternal	{ "Archive Warning": null, "Category": null, "Characters": "Amora (Marvel), James \"Bucky\" Barnes, Avengers Team (MCU), Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), The Enchantress, Hydra Agents, Asgardians (Marvel), Peggy Carter, Howard Stark, Howling Commandos, Karnilla (Marvel), SHIELD Agents & Staff, Clint Barton, Odin (Marvel)", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by marvelous101", "chapters": "17/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-02T00:00:00", "words": "37,472", "Additional Tags": "Falling In Love, Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Love, Explicit Sexual Content, Pre-Civil War (Marvel), Post-Civil War (Marvel), Hydra (Marvel), Post-Thor: The Dark World, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Psychological Torture, Romance, Marvel Universe, Civil War (Marvel), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Thor: The Dark World, Asgardian Magic, Asgard (Marvel), Post-Avengers Asgard, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Pre-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Past Torture, Mischief, Blood and Violence, Survival, Flirting, Past Lives, Wakanda, Marvel References, Marvel 616/MCU Crossover, Marvel Norse Lore, Post-Battle of New York (Marvel), Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Protective Bucky Barnes, Amora the enchantress - Freeform, Past Relationship(s), Relationship(s), References to Norse Religion & Lore, World War II, Awesome Howling Commandos, Post-HYDRA Reveal, Kind Amora, Bad Amora, sorcery, Fluff, Past Mind Control, Villains, Heroes & Heroines, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Drama, Past Abuse, Super Soldier Serum, Mentioned Red Skull, Mentioned Zola, Reformed Villains", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Amora & James \"Bucky\" Barnes, James \"Bucky\" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Amora/Skurge \| The Executioner, Amora/Loki (Marvel), Amora/Thor, Amora/Steve Rogers, James \"Bucky\" Barnes/Howling Commandos, Karnilla/Amora, James \"Bucky\" Barnes/Sam Wilson", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Comics), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types, Captain America - All Media Types, Captain America (Comics), Marvel 616, Norse Religion & Lore, Winter Soldier (Comics)", "Archive Warnings": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Categories": "F/M, Other", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Amora stormed down the palace corridors, fighting herself not to unleash her powers. She was to be handed off to a giant as a debt from Odin for helping to repair a palace wall. The giant made a bet with Odin saying that if he could finish it in a certain amount of time that he would want to be rewarded with the beautiful goddess that everyone desired. Odin agreed, believing that the giant would fail, but he didn't. Amora grew angry, knowing that this hidden from her up until now. She believed she was called into the throne room for a meeting with the other gods, but when she found out the truth, she felt herself snap."Amora, you cannot do this!" Loki called from behind her, "You understand the consequences that would happen if he does not get his payment." Loki grabbed her arm and pushed her into one of the tall columns, "We did not think the giant would complete his task in such little time.""You are a liar, Loki!" Amora yanked her arm away and adjusted her gold wristlet, "You are all idiots! Handing off a goddess like nothing! Why? Because you all don't know how to bid with giants!" She rolled her green eyes and walked away from Loki, "I am done here. Find someone else to bid off of."Feeling more enraged and betrayed, Amora left the palace and went straight to the rainbow bridge. Amora tried to clear her mind as the cool air hit her fair face, but all she could think about is why she felt so betrayed by those she trusted. Odin usually made rational decisions, but this one went too far, even for Odin. Amora's heels clicked across the bifrost bridge as she made her way to the observatory where Heimdall stood and guarded."Taking an evening walk, my lady Amora?" Heimdall kept his face looking straight out into the dark, starry, sky, "It is quite late for a lady like yourself to be wandering around the bifrost.""I need your help, Heimdall." Amora approached him, slightly out of breath from all the fast pace walking she had done to get here from the palace. "Transport me to Midgard, please."Amora adjusted her dark grey cloak that draped over her long, green, dress. Green has always been her favorite color for as long as she could remember. She would always accessorize her dressed with gold jewelry or even gold armor at times. Yes, she was perhaps one of the most beautiful in all of Asgard, and the most desired of them all. Men would try to win Amora's heart by showering her with gifts and would try to woo her by making flirty remarks to her. Some even went as far as smacking her ass or whistle as she would walk by. Amora couldn't lie to herself, sometimes she enjoyed the attention when she was feeling down, but she didn't desire any of the men who were giving it to her. She was a stubborn goddess, who never let anyone cross her. Though, at times she could feel the kindness in her heart peek through."Midgard?" Heimdall turned to look at her with his golden eyes, "You are trying to get out of this situation Odin has put you in. You know I cannot disobey my king, my lady.""Then tell him I went there because I was summoned or something," Amora gave him a pleading look, "Please, Heimdall. For me?" Amora placed her hand upon his armored shoulder, "Please."Heimdall hesitated for a moment, but even he was secretly in love with Amora for her beauty, "Alright, but do not stay too long for they may come looking for you." Heimdall placed his long sword into its holder and opened the portal for Amora. She nodded to him in thanks and walked her way towards the portal, taking a deep breath in."Heimdall, whatever happens down there...keep it between you and me. No matter what." Amora stepped foot into the portal as she felt energy and light surround her. She felt her stomach drop a little by the fast pace she was traveling. Soon, she felt her feet hit solid ground and she knew she had arrived to her destination.Amora looked around the wooded area she had landed in to try to see if she noticed any familiar sights. It has been many, many, years since she last travelled to Midgard, so she knew that all the sights she would encounter would be completely different. Amora lifted up her hood on her cloak to cover up her golden blond hair and made her way through the forest where she soon smelled smoke and ash. She knew she shouldn't head towards the smell, but she didn't know if someone was in danger or if it was perhaps trees burning. As she got closer to the smell she could start to hear voices in the distance. Amora stood behind a tree, her dark cloak helping her blend in. She heard the voices and footsteps get closer."Are you sure this is where the light shot down at?" A man's deep voice asked."Hell yeah! I'm sur-woah! Check out those markings on the ground! What do you think it is?" Another man stated.Amora kept still as the men were just a few feet away. She didn't walk far from where she had landed, but she knew she couldn't take a risk of getting caught. Amora slowly peeked her head around the large tree trunk to try to get a look at these men. They were definitely dressed differently from when she last came down to Midgard. The first thing she noticed was the huge rifles they were holding. Amora examined the rifles, trying to understand what they were used for. She then examined the kind of uniforms and helmets they were wearing. Amora heard another voice come from the other direction, quickly turning her head back behind the tree trunk. She heard the two men whisper something and then heard their feet scatter. As the other voice got closer, Amora heard gun fire come behind her. She immediately fell to the ground and covered her head with her bare arms, not knowing what exactly was going on. She quickly thought how she would be able to use her powers in this type of situation, but she felt panic run through, distracting her from thought.She heard the two men who were shooting behind her laugh and cheer as the voice in the distance was no more. "Fucking spy!" One man reloaded his weapon and cleared his throat, "Hold on." The man's voice grew low and suddenly it was quiet."Come on, man, we already killed the son of a bitch!" the deep voice stated, annoyed, "I'm gonna head to base and tell the General what we found before another spy comes along."Amora heard some footsteps walk away and felt somewhat relieved that they had gone away. She was about to summon for Heimdall when she felt a hand grab her shoulder and yank her up."Holy shit!" the man immediately dropped his hand off her shoulder and raised his rifle, "Another spy?"Amora shook her head and examined the man's weapon that pointed to her head, "Please, this was a mistake, I do not know where I am!" She thought about using her powers in self defense, but she knew that she wasn't allowed to strike down a mortal without them harming her."Sure you don't, doll." The man smirked and slightly lowered his weapon, "By the looks of it, you are definitely not from around here...or are an American. So do want to tell me who you are working for?"Amora looked at him confused and noticed her cloak was laying on the ground next to her. She took a step back, trying to figure out what should be her next move, "I don't work for anyone!" Her accent wasn't too strong, but it was noticeable. "Please, just let me go and we can forget all about this.""You are the one that created that beam of light, huh?" The soldier rubbed his strong jawline and lowered his rifle to the ground, "Well I'll be damned. This day just can't get more interesting. Do you have a name, gorgeous?"Amora raised her perfectly arched brow, a little taken back by his flirting. "Amora...now if you will excuse me-""Oh no can do! I am afraid I have orders to follow. If you do want to leave then I suggest you come with me so we can get you situation with the General.""And if I don't?" Amora took another step back, trying to think of a quick escape route to take. She thought about it for a second before realizing that she, as a goddess, should not back down or run away."Then you are screwed." The soldier wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, removing some ash off face, "By the way, your name is gorgeous just like you. You can just call me James if you'd like."Amora rolled her eyes, not in the mood for flirting. She cautiously picked up her cloak and placed it gently around her shoulders, "Fine, I will go with you, but first you must tell me where in the Hel I am and what's going on.""America! Technically Nevada." James looked at her with a surprised expression, "Yeah, you are clearly not from around here. And I will save all the good stuff for when we get to base." James motioned her over to him, in which Amora hesitantly took one step closer to him."I'm not the one you should be scared of, doll. There are worse people out there." James held out his hand towards her, "You can trust me."Amora didn't know why she did it, but she instinctively placed her delicate hand in his. He didn't grip her too hard or too soft. Amora felt a little confused as to why she slightly enjoyed his touch. Yes, he was kind, but she only knew this man for about 15 minutes. He lead her down the steep forest, her feet struggling to stay balanced on the uneven ground beneath her heels. It was pitch black out and all she could rely on was his hand guiding her through the darkness as all she could hear was sounds of wildlife surround her. She didn't know why she gave in to this. Amora could of easily disappeared and none of this would of happened. The only thing that actually stopped her from leaving was that gut feeling she got telling her not to go. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- She felt like she had been walking for miles from where she dropped down. Her heels were starting to make her feet ache even more, but she tried to hide no sign of pain on her face. She didn't want to seem vulnerable to all these mortals and to whoever this General was that James was taking her to meet. She could easily disappear, cast a forgetfull spell on James, and forget that any of this has ever happened. Something inside of her was telling her to stay and to comply with them. She needed to gain some trust and not make herself an enemy.They finally approached some tents and military vehicles. All eyes went on her. Of course she was out of place. She was not from this world and they could tell something was different just by her wardrobe. She kept her head up high and did not make eye contact with anyone."Welcome to base." James said, leading her over to a large tent where she found a heavy built man standing at the opening."Soldier," said the man in a stern voice. He must be the General. He looked like he didn't smile much, "Didn't know we were taking in hostages today." Was this supposed to be a joke? She glared her eyes at the man, unmoved."I am nobody's hostage!" She blurted out, "I want to make that clear." She crossed her arms over her chest, not taking her eyes off the man."We will see about that." He moved out of the way, allowing Amora to enter the tent. She held her ground, ready to pounce at any time she felt in danger."Forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself," he said sitting down behind a desk that was stacked with papers. "I'm General Chester Phillips and you, miss, have a lot of explaining to do. Explain how my men saw a huge flashing light shoot down from the sky and then nearly an hour later you show up to my tent."She took a deep breath in, and exhaled softly, rubbing the side of her eye. "If I told you the truth General, you would not believe me." She pushed her hair back over her shoulder, knowing that whatever came out of her mouth next would be heard as lies.He leaned back in his chair and dismissed the other soldiers that were by the entrance, including James. "Try me.""Mortals have called me many names: Freyja, Idunn, Gefn. My name though...is Amora," she said placing her hands on her hips, " I am a goddess of Asgard and I wish to be let go so I am venture back to where I came from. 'Twas a mistake coming down in the first place."General Phillips looked at her with a blank face, crossing his arms. She could tell he did not believe her. She gently lifted her hand and moved her fingers in a rhythmic motion. What looked to be green flames appeared and danced throughout her fingers. She definitely caught his attention now."Alright," he said standing up, "Say you are from Asgard and you are a goddess. Explain the flashing light beam that came down." She smirked slightly, "That was from me. Tis the way to transport to other worlds.""Why did you decide to come now at this exact location?" She thought about it for a second and realized she had no clue why she landed in this exact location. Amora sighed, pushing some of her golden hair behind her ear. She knew she couldn't lie her way out of this one. She already felt her powers getting slightly weaker."Look," Amora said looking down, "I come meaning no harm. I have no clue where I am even at or what is going on." Amora looked up at the General. She was good with knowing who she could trust and couldn't trust. "I left Asgard because...of issues," She didn't want to get into details. "I needed to get away for a little bit and did not expect to end up in a Midgardian battle.""I'll make you a deal," General Phillips said as he walked over to her, "I will let you go freely if you help us with something.""You want me to stay?" Amora sounded a surprised. True, she wanted to get away from Asgard and venture a little but she was curious as to what the General needed help with. "You understand I can just disappear whenever I want, correct?""Do you know what is going on out there, miss Amora?" General Philips pulled out a file from his desk, gazing over it, "We are here because of some spies that decided to break into a huge army weapon's facility and you just beamed right into the end result, which means that those spies could of saw everything," He looked back at her, "Here is what I am offering. We fly you out to New York, you help us with a little project, and in return we keep you safe. Cause I guarantee you they already saw that beam of light coming down from miles away and will want answers."Amora thought it over quickly, her eyes staring at her feet. Was she really going to make a deal with a mortal? She scrunched up her nose, inhaling a deep breath. "Alright." Amora didn't know why she had agreed, but something in her gut was telling her to do it. "What is wrong with you? Why are you doing this? Dammit, you just have to be so weak when it comes to helping others.""Good," he said with a small smile, "We will give you a change of clothes, make you look more normal, and get you to New York as soon as possible." He dismissed her from the tent and she quickly turned around and went outside. She sighed deeply, letting her head fall back."Dear gods, what did I get myself into?" Amora rubbed her temples as she processed all the information that just happened when she saw a figure standing on the side of the tent."So, you are an Asgardian goddess?" She looked quickly to her side and saw James standing there with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. "No wonder you have such an interesting choice of clothing." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Amora looked at him, shocked and yet taken back at a little. Under the lighting she could see James more clearly. On the battlefield she couldn't see him too well with all the smoke and dirt being blown up everywhere. He was tall and handsome. She noticed is strong jawline, his brown hair combed over, and blue eyes under all the dirt and sweat he was covered in."Were you listening in on the conversation?" Amora asked, a little embarrassed. She didn't know why she felt embarrassed. He was just some random mortal to her. A random, handsome, mortal that practically saved her life."General Phillips is usually pretty loud and plus the curiosity got to me," he smiled and stepped towards her, "Besides, I'm not gonna judge you for who and what you are, doll.""Wait, what?" Amora's eyes widened a bit, with a bit of confusion. She was used to men flirting with her all the time, as well as inappropriately smacking her ass and whistling at her as she would walk by. She learned to just tune it out as she did not desire any of the Asgardian men who would constantly try to "woo" her. She did not get that vibe from James though."You learn who and what I am and one of the first things you tell me is that you will not judge me? I do not know if I can believe you just yet." Amora started walking away, removing her torn up cloak, "You seem to know your way with words with women, James."He was called in by General Phillips before he could answer her. A few other officers came out of the tent and escorted Amora to an area to get changed and ready for a flight to New York. They clearly wanted to get there as soon as possible. Luckily, a woman officer had brought a spare dress and shoes that was a perfect fit for Amora. Amora quickly changed out of her Asgardian dress and into the brown button up dress. Brown was never really her color, but she was not about to complain. She had to blend in and gain their trust, even if that meant wearing an ugly color dress for a little bit. The shoes, though, didn't bother her as much. Black kitten heels with a strap that went around her foot."Comfy," she said to herself before she went back outside to see what they had for her next.They had Amora board a small plane along with a couple of soldiers, including, of course, James. As the plane was taking off, Amora could feel a small panic inside her. She had never been on a plane and never saw one until now. She gripped her seat belt tighlty and looked at her lap, trying to focus. She didn't like the feeling she was getting in her stomach while taking off."Never been on a plane before have ya, darlin'?" James said, sitting across from her. He cleaned up pretty nicely from being covered in dirt and ash. He was wearing a different outfit too: An open shirt with rolled up sleeves, dark green pants, combat boots, and a knife holster on his leg. "Hey, doll, I didn't get a chance to answer your question earlier."She raised her head, forgetting what the question was, "Do not worry about it." Was he flirty, though she suspected that from a handsome man like himself."No, no, no," he insisted, "I want to give you answer or else it will eat me alive."Eat him alive? She didn't understand if that was some kind of Midgardian humor or if something would actually eat him alive. Amora leaned back into her seat, trying to get comfortable, "Fine." She looked at him, curious of the type of answer she was going to get from him."I was going to say," he went on, "Goddess or human, you seem like an interesting gal to be around and I'd like to learn more about you," he smiled softly at her and she couldn't help but feel her stomach flutter a little. Why was she feeling this? He was mortal man and she was an Asgardian. No way could she develop feelings for a mortal. A part of her did want to learn more about the soldier that saved her life."You listened to the conversation, you know the main details of me, you tell me something about you," her face softened a bit, tilting her head to the side, "I am curious.""Well, where do I begin.." he started, rubbing the back of his head, " My full name is James Buchanan Barnes, I go by 'Bucky' for short. Um, I'm 19 years old, dropped out of school to join the army," he looked at her to see she was smiling a little bit more, "My best friend is Steve. We've been best of friends since childhood, been through everything together. That guy never backs down from anything." He smiled and rested his arms on his knees, "He's a punk though," he joked and noticed Amora let out a small giggle."Bucky, huh?" Amora raised her eyebrows, "I like that name, though I also like James as well. You seem to care about your friend deeply," she said, flashing that gorgeous smile, "That is good, really good.""That's all the information I'm giving out until I learn more about you," Bucky said smiling back. She notice his perfect smile and could feel her stomach flutter softly again."In time," she said softly, letting out a small yawn. Amora didn't realize how exhausted she really was. The adrenaline in her was finally slowing down and she could feel her eyelids start to get heavy. "Are we almost there?" She yawned again, covering up her mouth with her hand."Not quite," Bucky took out his watch and observed it, "We still got some hours left and you, darlin', you need some rest."Amora rested her head back against the seat and crossed her arms over her stomach. "Are you always this flirty to women?" This was an answer she was dying to know now."I do have a way with the ladies, can't lie about that," he chuckled, leaning back in his seat as well, not taking his eyes off her, "You are different though. I mean not in the sense that you are not human different, but you are different, Amora. A different that I want to understand." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Amora's head banged back against the seat as the plane touched down on the ground. It wasn't a pleasant way to wake up, but she was just grateful that she was finally on ground again. She could feel her body and mind still exhausted from the lack of sleep. She rubbed the back of her head, looking out the window, a little upset that there wasn't much scenery except typical forest trees and a runway.Once they got off the plane, she felt herself stumble her first few steps on land. "This is so embarrassing," she thought to herself, "Goddesses do not stumble in front of mortals. Get yourself together!" She could hear Bucky laugh behind her. "Dammit!"They were greeted by more army officials who gave Amora strict instructions. She would be placed in a tiny townhome on the army base to secure her safety. She was at least happy she would have her own privacy and alone time. When Amora learned that she would have duties on the base, she jerkedher head back a little and crossed her arms. She knew she had to help them with some secret project, but other chores? No."I was not aware that I was going to slave for you, mortals," she raised her hand and examined her finger nails, "I do not clean up after mortal men."A young man stepped forward, removing his army cap, "We did some research before you landed," he fairly young, had to be a teenager at most, and a little nervous. She was not about to give him a hard time."Go on," Amora put down hand, her full attention going to the young soldier. He took a deep breath, "General Phillips sent us some information on Norse Mythology," he pulled some papers out of his pocket, trying to get them in order. He gazed them over and looked up at her again, "You have an ability to heal, don't you?""Let me guess," she started, "You read about the Golden Apples...didn't you?" A smirked formed on her face. The young soldier nodded slightly, putting the papers back in his pocket. She knew what they had already read and the information they had gathered."I am not keeping any secrets here since you all vowed to protect me. Yes, I can heal myself and others, but I cannot regrow limbs or bones. Norse Mythology is not fake. Yes, some stories may be exaggerated, but nothing is fake.""That's what we need you for, miss-I mean-goddess," the young man twisted his cap in his hands, pressing his lips together tightly. A Sergeant stepped forward, "We need you to heal our men."Amora bit her bottom lip, thinking this one over. She could easily heal those soldiers, but what would she get in return? Just housing? "What would I get out this? Yes, I can heal with my abilities, though some techniques require resources. Resources that I can easily require here on Midgard.""We will supply everything you need," the man had a loud, deep, voice. "We are also going to supply you with clothes and hygiene products to make your stay a little more comfortable. Since you fit into Agent Clark's dress and shoes it will be easier to find your size." The Sergeant and young soldier then escorted them to a new 1936 Chevrolet Sedan."Please tell me this one stays on the ground," Amora said, getting in to the back of the car. She observed the inside, looking at all the details of the doors and seating."Oh, it does, doll," Bucky got in, sitting right next to her, "I take it you never been in a car before?""Are you always going to be wherever I go? And no, I have not." Amora leaned back in her seat, crossing her feet over each other."It's kind of my job to get you to your destination, darlin'." He tapped on the front seat, informing the driver to go. "Have you ever had coffee?""What is a coffee?" She asked with a confused look in her eyes, "Is it a meal of some sorts?"Bucky couldn't help but laugh out loud at her response which made her a little annoyed, "James, do not make fun of me!" She crossed her arms and turned her head away from him, feeling embarrassed. Of course she knew she had to learn new customs, but she didn't think that she would be made fun of."Hey, I'm sorry," he placed an arm on her shoulder, which she shook off. "Coffee is like the number one drink here in America. The fact that you never heard of it, or never had it is kind of depressing and yet funny." He let out a little chuckle again."You are making fun of me!" Amora whipped her head around, causing some of her golden hair to hit her in the face...the last thing she needed. "How would you feel if you went to Asgard and all the Gods made fun of you because you didn't know what the Golden Apples were?!""But I don't know what the Golden Apples a-" "Exactly!" Amora cut him off and turned her head, looking back out the window again. She didn't know why she was getting so heated. Probably from the lack of sleep she got and the fact that she didn't eat in over 10 hours."Hey, I'm sorry, doll." Bucky said, grabbing her shoulder again. This time she didn't shake it off. Amora felt his warm touch and didn't want to snap at him again. "No, I'm sorry James," she looked down at her hands and started fiddling with her fingers, "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. You just have to understand that this is all new to me.""Tell you what," Bucky had a smile on his face and patted her shoulder to get her to look at him, "How about after you get settled in I take you out to get some coffee so you can try it and maybe some dinner too?"Amora looked at him with a look of slight worry, "I have a feeling you only want to do this 'good guy' act because I am a goddess and you are just a man and that you are tying to get something out of me.""Nope. Not even close, darlin'. What did I tell you before? Goddess or not, it doesn't change the way I look at you. Now, how about it?" He smiled bigger, making her smile back at him. Amora studied him a little longer, not getting any sense of lies or deception from him, which made her feel good about a man for once."I'd like that James," she said with a smile, leaning her head back to close her eyes once more to get one final rest in. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The townhome Amora was placed in gave her a welcoming feeling. It was fully furnished, had running water, and had a stocked fridge. She paced through the house, her eyes trying to take glimpses at every little detail she could pick up. Amora noticed that someone has already been here since there was a dresser full of clothes and a bag of hygiene products and makeup on the bed. They were also kind enough to place a cookbook on the table and notebook of directions on how to use the stove, shower, tv, and lights. After a long trip, Amora finally felt safe.Amora kicked off her feels, her feet red and aching. She sat on the couch pushing her golden locks back with her hands. She could feel her hair starting to get oily, which she did not like. She got up and headed over to see what she could use from that bag that was sitting on her bed. Once Amora finally got the shower on, the touch of the hot water gave her goosebumps. It has been awhile since she's last bathed and Amora didn't want to go walking around smelling like a troll. She removed her dress and got in the shower. She must of stayed in there for about 30 minutes. She felt relieved that she was able to wash her hair and body. She wrapped a towel tightly around her body and headed back to the bedroom where she put on a clean outfit. As she was brushing the tangles out of her hair, she heard a knock at the door. Amora, got up from the chair, leaving a few tangles untouched, and open the door."I brought you some coffee," Bucky said with a smile, holding up a large cup in his hand, "Mind if I come in?" He looked over her head, examining what he could see so far in her temporary home.She moved out of the way to let him in, closing the door behind him. "You did not have to do that," Amora moved to the kitchen, still brushing out her hair. "That was nice of you though, thank you." Amora looked out the small window by the door just to see if anyone was around to see Bucky come in."It's no problem, doll. Plus I said I'd get ya a coffee." Bucky placed cup on the counter and looked at her with eagerness in his eyes. She knew he was impatient for her to try it. Amora grabbed the cup immediately feeling its warmth radiate into the hand. She took a small sip and a cheesy grin formed on her face."My gods! This is amazing!" She pressed her lips softly to the cup again and started chugging the coffee. Once she finished it she looked over at Bucky with even a larger smile. "Thank you for that! Please tell me where I can get some of this amazing stuff!""Oh you can get it anywhere! You can even make it." Amora's eyes lit up right as he said that. She bounced on her heels softly, feeling the caffeine run through her."By the way," Bucky crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, "I'm still gonna take you out to dinner...and dancing! How about I come get you at 6pm tonight?""Sounds good!" Amora hadn't even thought it through. She felt jittery and hyper from the tall cup of coffee she just drank."Good," he moved to the door, giving her that charming smile that made her heart skip a beat, "I'll see you tonight." As soon as Bucky closed the door behind him, Amora darted for the bedroom to see if there was a special dress to wear tonight.It was an hour before 6 and Amora was still struggling with what to wear. Once she looked at the small clock on the nightstand she let out a small squeak and went through all the dresses again. Finally she picked out a black dress with flowers on it and a pair of heels she felt would last her through the night. Amora kept the makeup simple, wanting to show off her natural beauty. Besides, she was running out of time and still had yet to do her hair. Amora moved her finger in a twirling motion, her hair forming into soft, golden, curls that draped over her shoulders.As Amora was pinning her hair back in a half up-do she heard a knock at the door. "Is it that time already?" Amora thought to herself as she hurried to get her heels on. She opened the door to see Bucky wearing a tan colored army suit that definitely brought out his strong physique. His brown hair was combed over to the side and Amora noticed he was wearing a good smelling cologne."You clean up well, James." Amora joked, trying to hide her nervousness. Even though she was a much desired goddess, she had never been on a proper date before."I can say the same for yourself, darlin." He whistled softly as he eyed her down, making her blush. Amora tried to cover it up by looking down, but she knew that he already saw her cheeks turn red.Bucky cleared his throat, getting her attention. She noticed his arm was extended out to her, him waiting for her to take hold of it. "Shall we?" Bucky grin widened a bit as Amora looped her delicate arm through his, closing the door with her free hand. She felt his warm on her arm which comforted her since it was a chilly night. Of course she didn't bring a shawl, but she didn't want to run back in and take forever to pick out one damn shawl."We shall," Amora looked up at him and gave him a sweet smile, having him lead the way to wherever it was they were going. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The cold, bitter, air nipped at Amora's arms as the night grew darker. It didn't bother her too much. Amora was used to the temperatures that Jotunheim had to offer, and this was not Jotunheim. The restaurant was a on a main street of a small town outside the army base. Immediately Amora could smell the scents of all different kinds of food that made her mouth water. It has been awhile since she last had a decent meal."I think you'll like it." Bucky opened the door for her and Amora quickly stepped inside, inhailing more of the delicious smells. She looked around the dim lit restaurant and noticed a live band playing some slow tunes. She could feel her shoulders start to sway with the saxophone until she realized she was getting herself off guard and still had yet to be seated.They were placed at a corner table with a view of the band and with some people dancing along slowly to the music. Amora carefully studied the menu, feeling a bit lost at the names of the unfamiliar food and beverages. She felt too embarrassed to ask such a silly thing."Just do it. He will understand...but he laughed at you when you didn't know what coffee was. Get yourself together, Amora! Why are you freaking out? He's a mortal, you are a goddess. Ask, dammit!" Her mind raced through thoughts until she finally peeked over the top of the menu to find Bucky staring at her with a smirk on his face."I'd recommend the tenderloin steak, but you seem like a salad type of gal." Bucky grinned, pushing his menu to the side of the table."I prefer meats, thank you very much, James!" The next hardest thing was choosing a side. "Dammit! I'll just pick the first side I see."Finally a waitress came over, taking out an order pad with pen. "How can I help you two this evening? Are you ready to order?" Bucky nodded his head and motioned to Amora to order first. She never actually ordered before...or has been in a restaurant.Amora cleared her throat and looked up to the waitress. "Tenderloin steak with the mashed potatoes and water to drink." She exhaled and closed the menu, sitting back in her chair. The waitress scribbled on the notepad and looked at her again, "How would you like the steak cooked?" Amora felt a little wave a panic for she didn't understand the question to well. Amora turned to Bucky with a look of confusion in her eye."She likes her steak medium well," Bucky smiled softly at Amora and gave her a wink, "I will have the same thing too, thank you." The waitress took the menus, leaving them alone again in their corner table."Thank you!" Amora exhaled, covering her face in her hands. "I am so lost and confused. I've never stayed here this long to understand anything.""So why did you decide to stay? I told you some information about me on the plane, now it's your turn to talk, doll." Bucky clasped his hands together on the table, leaning in towards Amora. "You can trust me, Amora. I'm not the bad guy here.""I wouldn't even know where to begin," Amora looked down at her lap, her fingers playing with the napkin that laid across her lap. " I decided to stay and help because Odin, the ruler and Allfather of Asgard, tried to bargain me away. This giant came one day and offered to build a wall around the palace. Odin took him up for the challenge and the man said that if he completed it in a certain amount of time that he required me as a prize. The Allfather accepted." She kept looking down, moving her hand to fiddle with a fork that was on the table. " Once I saw the man was near completion I decided to leave because I am not some kind of toy you can just sell! I do not even know if I want to go back at this point."Bucky reached out and gently grabbed her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You are so much more than that." Amora pulled her hand back and wiped a tear that was starting to fall down her cheek."You don't even know me, James. You have no idea what I've dealt with and what I am capable of.""Then tell me."After the waitress came back with their drinks and Amora took a huge sip, her throat feeling dry. She never told anyone about her past. Not anyone. Amora felt that she needed to open up. For decades she lived with a heavy weight on her chest and never gotten too close to anyone to tell them about her true self."I never knew my parents. I was born in Asgard, that I know. I have a younger sister named Lorelei. We were very close growing up, but she has gone off to do her own thing. I grew up with Odin's sons, Thor and Loki. I had a crush on Thor when I was just a little girl, then I saw how much a mere dummy he truly was. Loki and I practiced spells together, for I was born with sorcery powers and the gift of healing. I trained myself to make potions, cast spells, shapeshift, all different kinds of things. I am still learning how to control all my abilities after all these decades. Gods looked at me as an sexual object, not as a woman with feelings. Because of that I have kept to myself and keep my defenses up. 'Tis my way to survive."Amora leaned back in her chair, her eyes trying to read Bucky's emotions on what she told him. "Now you understand me a bit more, James?""Wow," Bucky raised his eyebrows in surprise, "I'm sorry, Amora. Though I do have one question for you.""Ask.""Have you ever been in a relationship?"Amora could feel her heart drop. Nobody has ever asked her this before. "No. Never." She looked down again, feeling ashamed. "I told you, the majority of the gods that I encounter go after me for lust, not love. I do not give them either."As soon as she looked up she saw Bucky giving her an empathetic look. He was about to respond then saw their food had arrived. The smell of the tenderloin made Amora salivate for she could not wait a second longer to eat. Amora ate gracefully, but yet hungrily. She noticed Bucky would chuckle here and there between his bites as should would take a huge bite of steak and wash it down with water."I must say, you are entertaining to watch, doll." Bucky joked as he, too, quickly ate his meal. This was the meal they deserved after all that happened in the past day.Amora took in a few deep breaths after finishing the wonderful meal. She wished she would of slowed down a tad bit, but couldn't help herself. The food was too amazing and she was too hungry. After Bucky paid for the meal, he got up and held his hand out to her."Time to go?" Amora examined his hand as she slowly got up, "This went by so fast!""Not yet," Bucky grabbed her hand, leading her to the small dancefloor by the band in the back of the restaurant."What are you doing?" Amora noticed other people slowly dancing around the dancefloor still, the saxophone still softly placing along with the piano."We are going to dance, darlin'." Bucky positioned himself in front of her, placing his hand on her delicate waist, and his other in her hand. Amora automatically placed her hand on top of his shoulder. She was around the average height of a woman, not too tall and not too short. Bucky took the lead and moved each step slowly, Amora following in his steps. Their eyes were kept locked on each other through each step."You seem to be a pro at this, doll." Bucky gently pulled Amora closer into his chest where she felt the warmth of his body comfort her. She placed her head on his chest, feeling it was a daring move. She was surprised he actually let her keep her head there and not get uncomfortable. Though she remembered that he was indeed a ladies man and was used to this. She listened to his heart beat through suit. A smooth a steady rhythm that she concentrated on. As the song was coming to an end she felt a small, gentle, pressure at the top of her head that lasted for a few seconds."Did he just kiss me? He just kissed me. Oh my gods."She could feel her face getting hot and her cheeks getting red. "Do not get too ahead of yourself." She looked up at him trying to compose herself, "Thank you for tonight and for the dance. I appreciate your kindness and consideration."Bucky brushed a piece of loose hair off her red cheek and gently squeezed her hand. "It's gettin late, let's get you back."Amora nodded, her lips pressed together into a smile as they left the restaurant to journey back to base. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- 3 months later."So then I told Tommy that I wasn't upset that he had to work tonight, but really I am!" Amora nodded her head and pretended that she seemed interested in the story that Lucy, a nurse that worked for the army, was telling her about. "Do you think I should be honest with him or just play it off? Amora? Are you listening?""Yes, Lucy." Amora was focused on finishing stitching up a soldiers leg that was badly lacerated. "Just give me a moment to finish this and we will discuss this somewhere else," Amora looked up at the young cadet who was biting his lip at the pain of the stitches. "Sorry about that, you are all done. Just do not tear open the wound, please. You really don not want to make this worse."It has been three months since Amora and Bucky went on their dinner date. Since then she had seen less of him since she knew that the army was not an easy job and that he did not have much free time as she had hoped. Amora, now working with the doctors and nurses, spends her days mending wounds, and making herbal teas with a touch of magic to ease the soldier's pains. As badly as she wanted to go on another date, she didn't want to seem pushy or obsessive."So I hear you are a smart cookie!" Lucy exclaimed as she and Amora headed back to the sinks to wash the blood off their hands. "Rumor has it that you read all the medical books in one week! If this is true then you must tell me! I mean, you look so young!"Yes, she did look young. Amora could easily pass to be a 23 year old, though she never revealed her actual age to anyone. Amora dried her hands and let out a soft chuckle, "Sadly it is. And what does me looking young have anything to do with this? I get bored easily. I practically already know all this stuff. I have done a lot of...medical work back where I come from." Only a few knew the truth about Amora and she wanted to keep it that way, and so did the General. Word cannot get out all around that there is an Asgardian goddess that works for the U.S. army."Where are you from again? Somewhere in Europe right? Sorry, I figured the accent and all.""Norway," Amora smirked at her own clever remark, "My family moved around a lot and I ended up here." Amora adjusted her bun on top of her head and grabbed her trench coat as they were walking out. She didn't like to make stories up about her, but she knew she had no choice at this point."By the way, Lucy, you should tell Tommy how you feel," Amora buttoned up her coat and noticed it was about to rain outside, "It is best to be honest with a man, especially if you truly care about him.""You are so right! I love going to you for advice." Lucy waved and left the small medical building first, leaving Amora by the door, stuck in her own thoughts."Be honest with a man, especially if you truly care about him. I cannot just walk up to James and let him know how I truly feel. I mean, he is young, but I can't shake this feeling about him. Oh Gods, I do not know what to do!"Amora threw her head back and let out a sigh as she walked through the door. She could feel her stomach turning with nervousness as she thought about Bucky and whether or not she should just confront him with her feelings. It wasn't like he ignored her anyway. Whenever he got the chance he would slip a note or two in her desk just to make her smile. The notes would just say a sentence or two just to remind her to not to be down and smile and that she has been on his mind. Amora kept these notes in a little jewelry box in her townhome and whenever she did feel down, she would read them just to make her smile.As she approached her home she noticed a man standing by her door, wearing a casual suit. She slowed down her tracks and slightly squinted her eyes to get a better look. As she got closer she noticed it was in fact Bucky Barnes standing at her door. She felt her stomach drop all the way to the ground. Yes, she wanted to tell him how she feels about him, but not this fast. Amora saw that he noticed her approaching, but kept it very casual."I need your help," he said in a low voice as she got closer.Amora pulled out her keys from her pocket and unlocked the door, "Did you want to talk inside, or are you in a hurry?""I'm kind of in a hurry, but I will go inside really quick since I know I can't say it out here in front of the others." Bucky shifted his position towards her, his voice still low and soft. "The guys think I'm here to pick up some first aid stuff since you know, you are the best 'nurse' on base.""Well I guess I am flattered by that," she closed the door behind him and kicked off her heels, "So what do you need my help with, James?""I have a date tonight..."A date?! Amora could feel her heart breaking as he said that. Yes, they only had one date, but after he stilled showed that she meant something to him. She turned away quickly from him, heading to the kitchen. She didn't want him to see her tears. "So do you need advice or gift...or what?" Amora tried her keep her voice from shaking.Bucky followed her into the kitchen and lightly grabbed her arm. "Look, the General found out that we went out on a date and was pissed. Some people saw us walking together and started talking. I got told that taking you outside base is a huge risk and to never do it again. They kept me under close watch so I couldn't spend much time with you. Hence why I left you notes. I'm sorry, doll. Really I am. I never meant for this to happen." Bucky turned Amora around so that she was facing him and gently wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb, leaving his hand resting on the side of her face."So you came to tell me that you are going on a date?" Amora took a a few steps back, holding her arms close to her chest. "That's not right, Bucky." This was the first time Amora used his nickname. At this point she felt like she couldn't persuade him to change his mind. Amora could of easily put a spell on him, but she didn't want to do that to him. She cared too much."Let me finish," Bucky put his hands up in front of him and took a step forward, "The guys and I were drinking one night I lost a bet with them and had to ask a random dame out on a date. I never thought she say yes. So I told her to forget about it and that I just did it for a bet and then I don't know what happened, she just kind of flipped out and threaten to hit me with her heel so I told this gal that it would be a double date with my best friend, Steve. I need you to be MY date. Here's the catch and I know you aren't going to be happy. The only way we can go out without getting busted is if you change into someone else. I know it sounds bad, Amora, but I'm not going to this unless you are comfortable doing this."As crazy as it did sound, Amora was considering this. She was mad that he got himself in a drunk bet and was stuck in a date with a crazy woman. Though she did not Bucky to get in trouble again for them going on a date since she knew it would be a great risk and she certainly did not want him going with other women. She never did use her powers in front of him and there was a reason for that. For once, Amora wanted to level herself with someone who she felt deeply about."I'll do it," Amora looked up at him, a slight frown on her face, "As much as I don't want to...I can't bring myself to see you with other women." Amora pressed her lips together and notice that Bucky was grinning at her remark."I can say the same for you too, darlin'. Now gimme some bandages so it looks like I really did get some first aid shit from here. Meet us at the corner of where that restaurant is that we went to, okay?" Amora felt Bucky's arms wrap around her and pull her into a warm embrace, his face buried in her hair, "You know changing your form is the last thing I would ever ask of you. You are perfect the way you are, but there are bad people out there who would die to get ahold of you and I would never forgive myself if that happened.""I know..." Amora buried her face into his chest as she felt him give her a tight, but gentle, squeeze before letting her go.Amora gave Bucky a first aid kit to leave with to make things look less suspicious. When he finally left Amora quickly showered and changed into a casual pink dress and wedges. Her favorite color was green, though she didn't mind wearing other feminine colors. She didn't bother doing her hair or makeup since the appearance she has chosen would already be dolled up. She knew this would be the only way to get to go out until she was given the okay that it was safe.Amora locked her door and heard a soft clap of thunder from above. "Not today, Thor.." she whispered to herself as she made her way behind her house and changed her form into a young girl with a round face with pink blush, winged eyeliner and black mascara, thin red lips, and brown hair that was in a bob cut with wavy curls. Amora took out her small compact mirror from her clutch to examine herself. "This will do..for now."As she approached the restaurant she saw Bucky standing outside with another woman and a small, scrawny, man that was only as tall as Bucky's chest. There was nothing really special about the woman who was practically drooling over Bucky. She was tall, had a pretty face with freckles, and her hair was pinned up in a bob haircut, like the style Amora chose. As soon as she got close enough she noticed Bucky giving her a confusing look in which she smiled and nodded her head to let him know it was her."Alice has arrived!" Bucky cheered in a tune as both the tall woman and scrawny man looked at the brunette woman standing in front of them. Amora immediately figured she was "Alice" and knew she just had to play along. "Alice, this is Carol, and my best friend, Steve," Bucky gave Amora a wink as she got closer to all of them."It's nice to meet y'all," Amora changed her noticeable accent into a southern accent that she picked up from a nurse that was from Tennessee."Isn't she quite the Southern belle?" Bucky said in a southern accent, nudging Steve with his elbow. Amora noticed that the tall woman, Carol, was not too pleased with Bucky's excitement over "Alice." Though Amora couldn't help but figure out Bucky's friend, Steve. Steve stood all awkward and quite. He looked like he would shatter into a thousand pieces if you just flicked him. She sensed kindness from him though. A different kind of kindness from Bucky's."I want to see that horror movie that just came out," Carol whined, tugging at Bucky's sleeve. It annoyed Amora how desperately this woman wanted his attention."Sweeney Todd?" Steve said, putting his hands in his jacket pockets, "I wouldn't mind seeing that. Theater's right down the street. What do you think, Alice?""I'm down with whatever y'all New Yorkers want to do," she flashed a big smile, feeling the hate steam off of Carol. Just watching Carol get more pissed was making Amora even more entertained."Alright, movie it is!" ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Amora sat between Bucky and Steve, leaving Carol next to Bucky. Whenever there would be an intense scene she would hear Carol gasp and bury her face in Bucky's arm. It did bother Amora that some random woman was practically throwing herself on Bucky, but Amora had a part to play and had to act like she wasn't bothered."Popcorn?" Steve leaned over to Amora and held his bag of popcorn in front of her face. She could tell that he had no real experience with women."Thank you, Steve," Amora whispered back, taking a few kernels in her hand. She tried her hardest to focus on the movie, but couldn't help but be even more bothered by Carol's actions. Amora felt her jaw tighten each time Carol would throw her face in Bucky's chest and force his arm around her. She could easily tell that Bucky was not happy in this situation."Alice, you okay?" Steve whispered, a look of worry on his fragile face. "I am alright, Steve," she whispered back with a fake smile, "I just have a darn headache that's all." Steve nodded and offered her more popcorn, which Amora kindly accepted. Amora turned her attention to the screen again, eating the few pieces of popcorn that was in her hand. In her mind she was counting down the minutes to where this would all be over and would not have to deal with crazy Carol again."Hey," Bucky said, leaning over to Amora's ear, "I need to find a way to get rid of this woman. I think she's stronger than me! She's crushing me believe it or not! To think she was supposed to be Steve's date." Amora couldn't help but let out a small laugh. She thought of this as karma since Bucky got himself in this situation and now is getting crushed by a woman who is taller and stronger than him.After the movie it was pouring down rain and none of them packed an umbrella. They all stood under the large theater marquee sign to keep dry. "Buck, I'm gonna head on home," Steve zipped up his jacket and nodded to Carol and "Alice." "I got a busy day tomorrow!""You can't stay a little longer? The night is still young and it's just some rain!" Bucky placed his hand out in the rain, giving Steve a disappointing look. "Fine, but you are going to miss out!""I should be getting home too," Amora said, noticing Bucky giving her a sad face. "I have work in the morning and plus it seems like this rain isn't going to get better any time soon. Thank you for inviting me, Bucky! It was a pleasure meeting you, Steve...and Carol."Amora gave Bucky an apologetic look, but she wasn't lying about having to work and that she desperately wanted to change back to her normal self. She knew if she'd stay a second longer that Bucky would of persuaded her to stay so she didn't waste much time. Amora was still slightly upset about Carol, but she knew she was overreacting the whole situation. She jogged in the rain and hid in a tight alley where she quickly changed back to her regular form. "Finally! Me again!" Amora grabbed a random newspaper off the ground and held it above her head as she jogged again back home."Hey! Wait!" Amora turned around quickly to see Bucky running after her, no Carol in sight. "Hold up!" Bucky caught his breath as soon as he caught up to her, "You jog at a fast pace!""Well it is raining and I do want to get home quickly! I didn't even think about getting a cab, dammit." The newspaper that Amora held above her head was starting to fall apart, "Useless thing!" Amora tossed the paper to the side and moved under a canopy that was in front of a small market."I was worried about you so I got a cab for Cheryl or Carol...whatever her name is and immediately came running after you." Bucky moved under the canopy, pushing his hair back with his hands. "I know all of that was extremely uncomfortable cause trust me, I felt awkward too.""Think of it as karma," Amora placed her hands on her hips, a smirk on her lips, "You got yourself in this situation and then paid the price! Other than a random lady throwing herself at you, I did have fun.""I'm glad you had fun," Bucky took a step closer to her and grabbed her hand, "I really need to tell you something, not here though. We are exposed." He led her back into the rain and down the alley so that they were behind the little market which, thankfully, there was another small canopy for them to stand under.Amora felt the nervousness in Bucky's voice and immediately starting rationalizing what it could be about. "Tell me, James." The first thing that came to her head was that he really didn't care about her and that his feelings changed. Typical woman thoughts. Amora tried to shake that feeling off her, but it just ended up making her even more nervous.Bucky gently squeezed her hand and took a deep breath in, "Okay, here goes nothing. Every single day when I wake up, you are the first thing that comes on my mind. These three months that I couldn't see you were the hardest months of my life because I didn't know what you were doing or if...you found someone else." Amora's eyes grew big and she could immediately feel her heart pounding through her chest. "I know you feel the same Amora," Bucky took another step closer to her, placing his other hand on her cheek, making Amora blush dark red. She could even feel how hot her cheeks were getting under his touch. "I know we don't know every single detail about each other and that we haven't known each other for years, but I know that when I am not around you I feel like I am missing something and that something is you. I think...no...I know...that I am in love with you."Amora could feel the tears start to form in her eyes. Not once in her life has anyone has anyone showed this much affection to her. She didn't even have to put a spell on him to make him fall in love with her or to even acknowledge her. "James," the tears started rolling down her face, "You were the first man to ever show me kindness and true affection. Ever since I met you I felt drawn to you and I didn't understand why, but now I do." She wiped her tears with her free hand and smiled up at him, looking at him through her watery eyes. "I have fallen in love with you since our dinner date and desperately wanted to tell you how I feel, but you have to understand that we are so different.""I don't care, Amora." Before she could realize it, Amora felt Bucky's warm lips pressed against hers. At first it took her by surprise, but then she found herself giving in. They stood there, kissing for about two minutes straight before Amora gently pulled back, a huge grin on her face. A real, true, first kiss. Bucky cupped her face in his hands and pressed his forehead against hers, "Be mine?"Amora smiled, gazing into his blue eyes as she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling herself closer to his firm body. "Always."Once they snuck back into base, Amora let Bucky in through her back window to let him dry off and perhaps stay the night if he wanted to. "Give me your suit jacket and I will put it by the heater to see if that will help it dry." Bucky handed her his jacket and took a seat at her small dining room table."Some weather, huh? I thought it would lighten up but I think we got even more soaked. So you don't mind if I stay tonight? I'll be out before you know it and no one will see it since ya know, you have a lovely back window. " Bucky tapped his hands on the table as Amora came back in wearing a casual nightgown. "Well, aren't you adorable!" Bucky flashed her a smile and Amora jokingly modeled a pose as she placed a kettle on the stove."It's the latest edition...not! Do you want some tea? And of course I don't mind. Just be careful.""No thanks, doll. I have a question though!""Ask away!" Amora spun back around, leaning against the counter."How old are you really?""Oh gods..." Amora rubbed her face with both her hands, "It is hard to say...I am different than all the other gods and only age once every hundred years. So if I worked out the math I could figure it out, but...um-" She could see the shock in his face, which made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She turned off the stove, not really feeling in the mood for tea anymore, and headed to her living room. "I will get the couch ready for you.""I screwed this up, dammit." She whispered to herself as she placed a couple of blankets and pillows on the couch. Suddenly she felt strong arms wrap around her from behind. Amora lowered her head down in shame, "I told you that we are too different, James." She felt him place a soft kiss on her bare shoulder, tightening his hold on her."And I told you that I don't care. We will figure something out," Bucky placed another kiss on her shoulder before leading her to the couch. Amora snuggled up close to him, burying her face in his chest. The feeling of his arms wrapped around her made her feel safe and wanted."You realize we can't tell anyone about us, James? Not even your friend Steve. If this so-called Hydra finds out who I am and then finds out that I am with you then we are both screwed.""I know, darlin, I know. Do not worry about everything right now, okay?" He lifted up her face and kissed her softly on the lips. "Nothing is going to take me away from you. I promise."Amora scooted up so that she was seated properly on his lap. His clothes were still slightly damp from the rain, but she didn't care. She just wanted to be close to him. She took his face in her hands and kissed him back, a little more intimately. Amora felt his hands trailing up and down her back as he passionately kissed her back. She felt her body getting hot and suddenly she pulled away from the kiss, her face dark red."Amora? Are you okay?""I never...um...how do I say this? I have never gone this far with a man before." Amora pressed her lips tightly together and looked away in embarrassment."I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do," Bucky stroked her hair soothingly, "I will leave it up to you decide, alright? No pressure.""But...I want to do it. I may be all caught up in my emotions now, but I can't fight this feeling in me." Amora looked back at him, her face still red, "I am a lame goddess aren't I?""No, you are not. You are perfect." Bucky placed his hand behind her neck and pulled her into another kiss. Amora felt his hands go under her nightgown and trail up her leg to her back again. Just that feeling gave her goosebumps. He started kissing her neck ever so softly as his arm starting moving towards her stomach and up to her large breast, where he started to tease her nipple with his finger tips. Amora started to pant a little, her fingers entangling in his hair. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Bucky asked softly before kissing her collar bone. All Amora could do was just whisper a "yes" to him. Suddenly Bucky picked her up bridal style and carried her to her bedroom where he laid her down gently on the bed. He took off his clothes, only leaving on his boxers which exposed a hard erection. He slowly pulled off her nightgown, revealing her lace underwear and large breasts. His hands explored her body as his kisses started trailing down to her breast. Amora gripped her pillow and let out a soft moan as he gently sucked her perky nipple."Please...do not stop." Her grip on her pillow tightened as she could feel his slowly take off her lace underwear. His hand gently caressed her inner thigh then moving down to her folds, making Amora scream internally. He took his mouth off her nipple and kissed her lips, inserting a finger in and out of her, making her gush. "Oh my gods," she moaned, "Just take me already, James!" She kissed him passionately as his fingers pulled off and removed his boxers."If you want me to stop at any time, just let me know." He placed tender kisses on her neck, spreading her legs apart, placing himself in between them. Amora could feel her heart literally pounding through her chest as she felt him slowly enter her, feeling him expand her. She bit his shoulder to muffle her moans, the feelings of pain and sensation running through her body. Amora dug her nails into his back, feeling him gently thrust his whole, large, shaft inside of her. He paused for a brief moment to make sure she was okay then stared to move his hips in a rhythmic motion against her, holding her body close to his,. He picked up the pace a bit and thrusted a little harder into her, gently biting her neck, his hand massaging her breast. Amora grabbed his hair with one hand as the other gripped tightly on to the sheets. She could feel her body working up to an orgasm as Bucky quickened the pace and took his hand off her breast and started rubbing her sweet spot. Amora gasped loudly and could feel her body release her orgasm as Bucky released his inside of her."Oh...my...gods..." Amora breathed heavily as Bucky laid down beside her, pulling her close to him. "Just to think you asked me out about an hour ago and we already had sex. Was this too fast?"Bucky let out a chuckle and caressed her bare back. "There are couples that wait years to have sex and then there are some who have sex before even dating. If the time is right, then the time is right. I guess we just couldn't resist each other."Amora giggled and pulled the covers up over their naked bodies. "So you still love me?""Even more." Bucky placed a kiss on top of her head, "You are my girl! Actually no. You are my enchantress.""Enchantress?" Amora looked up at him, her eyebrow raised slightly, "Did you just think of that nickname because of what I am?""Yup! Also the fact that you are gorgeous. Like it?" Bucky had a proud look on his face, "I thought about it the first day we met, actually.""Hmm...It's alright," Amora laughed and rested her head on his chest again, "Why not just 'doll' or something like that?""Oh, don't you worry, it will grow on you soon." Bucky yawned, resting his head on top of hers."Well will see about that, Bucky." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Seven years later-1943"Dr. Erskine, are you sure this is a great idea?" Amora relaxed her arm as Dr. Abraham Erskine drew blood from her arm."This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Miss Incantare. I take it General Phillips didn't tell you that you would be more than involved in this top secret experiment." Dr. Erskine drew out the needle and examined the small tube of her blood."Seven years ago your General told me of a top secret experiment, I did not think that it would take this long." Amora sat up and put on a white lab coat, "I did not think I would be an assistant to you though." Amora walked over to her small desk in the corner and pulled out her purse for a piece of gum. "And you should be honored that I allowed you to use my blood.""I am more than thankful, Miss Incantare. It is not everyday that I work with a Norse goddess." Dr. Erskine smiled, still examining her blood. "Do you ever miss where you came from?"Amora popped a bubble and wheeled her chair over to Dr. Erskine, gently taking the tube of her blood and examining it herself. "I never thought of staying this long, that is for sure. I have found comfort here and companions that I can trust in. Yes, I do miss Asgard at times. I was raised there and that place was the only home I ever knew of. Being here on Midgard and learning all these new customs and ideas has really grew on me and it would be hard to leave now." Amora handed the tube back to him and wheeled back over to her desk, "Besides, I am still moving into my apartment. It took a lot of persuading to let me leave base, but I have my ways." Amora winked at him and popped another bubble."To let an Asgardian roam around is dangerous, Miss Incantare. When I was told who you were I knew that we would be able to unlock the Super Soldier Serum with your help. We will give men the strength of the gods.""I will warn you doctor, my blood is not to be toyed with. Do not let this get out of control. Remember, I am allowing this for only one dose. No more. I'd rather not get sent to an Asgardian prison." Amora face went from cheerful to concern, "I do not want anything bad to happen. You are a good man, Abraham. But please, explain to me more about this Hydra?""Long story short, Hydra is a division of the Nazi government that specializes in deep science. Their leader, Johann Schmidt, is a dangerous man, Miss Incantare. He was so obsessed with power that he tried the Super Soldier Serum on himself. The result was...horrific." Dr. Erskine wiped his lens on his lab coat before putting his glasses back on."With your blood donation we will help many people and we will have an advantage to this war," Dr. Erskine jotted some notes down in a file and slightly looked up at her, "I can finally analyze what makes you gods...gods. Speaking of being a goddess, how does one go from being a goddess to a doctor?""Not a doctor," Amora spun around once in her chair, fixing the pins in her hair. "I consider myself just a being at this point. I do not really feel like a powerful goddess anymore. I don't know what I am actually. Perhaps confused?""Then tell me, how does one get to the point of boredom where she reads all the medical books, takes all the medical exams, and passes?""I was interested in the Midgardian medical ways and I was, indeed, bored. Do you know how many wounded warriors I had to attend to in Asgard? Tis funny to see grown men cry at times." She checked her watch and nearly swallowed her gum. "Shit, I have to go!""Plans tonight?""Yes...no...um I have a lot of unpacking to do and I-""Miss Incantare," Dr. Erskine smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder, a guilty look came across her face. "Just be careful. Hydra is getting stronger and we do not want to risk anything.""I know, I have stayed under the radar for seven years. I think I will be okay." Amora smiled and patted his hand, removing the lab coat and throwing on her cardigan sweater.She exited the lab room as herself, but once she stepped outside she was a black haired, brown eyed woman that went by the name of "Lenna Moran." The lab was hidden under an old antique shop in downtown Brooklyn. She intended to keep her identity a secret on Earth for as long as it took. Amora rented a small apartment under the identity of "Leena." The apartment was on the quiet side of Brooklyn, placed behind some buildings. It was just want Amora wanted. Once Amora got to her apartment she immediately changed back into her gorgeous, blonde, self and went to the refrigerator, a look of disappointment came across her face."Damn, I forgot to buy ice cream!" She pouted her lip out and tapped her foot softly against the wooden floor, debating on what to snack on. "Why is deciding what to eat so hard?" Amora rolled her eyes and closed the fridge door, still feeling slightly sad that she had no ice cream."Let me guess, the world is coming to an end because we are out of ice cream?" Bucky came out of the next room, adjusting the tie on his suit. "Sweetheart, there is more to life than just ice cream." He placed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose, chuckling at Amora's pouty face."It will be the only comfort I have once you leave tomorrow." Amora placed her chin on his chest and looked up at him with her big, green, eyes. "I don't want you to go.""You know I hate leaving you, sweetheart. I don't have a choice in this, I have to do this." Bucky stroked his thumb gently across her cheek, "I promise I will write to you whenever I get the chance.""I don't know if I'm feeling this double date right now. The Stark Expo seems fun, but can't we just stay in for the night?" Amora kept the pouty look on her face. She knew that sometimes it would work on Bucky, hoping today would be the day that it worked."You promised your friend...well 'Leena's' friend a double date and remember, you never break your promises.""It's hard enough to change my appearance for every double date that we went on with Steve for these past seven years, James. He's your best friend. Why haven't you told him the truth yet?" Amora took her chin off him and headed towards the bedroom, Bucky following close behind her."You know how much it kills me that I can't tell anyone about you? Especially my best friend?" He gently grabbed her arm and spun her around to where she was facing him again, "You are my priority here, Amora. As much as it hurts to hide such a thing from Steve...I can't risk anything. I know he would do the same if he were in my place.""I'm sorry...I've just caused hurt and lies and I don't want that. You deserve better than me, James. You deserve a normal woman, one you can show off to the world and-""Amora!" Bucky grabbed both her arms firmly, shaking his head, "We've been together for seven years and you think you are causing me hurt? Fuck no!""James...language...""Sorry, but listen," Bucky placed his hands on her face, pressing his forehead softly against hers, "I love you and nothing will ever change that. You think I want to go out every single time with a 'different' woman and not just the natural you? We have both made sacrifices for each other and after this war is over you can come out of hiding and we can finally live the life we have been always talking about." Bucky placed a soft kiss on her lips, which Amora returned."Fine, I will still go on this double date. On one condition!" Amora placed her hands on her hips, blowing a piece of blonde hair away from her face."Name it.""You get me that lovely Midgardian ice cream afterwards." Amora tried her hide her smile and hold up her "tough girl" stance, but just crumbled in laughter. "Why can't I ever keep a straight face in front of you?""Because you just can't resist me, sweetheart." Bucky pulled out a small box from his suit pocket and immediately Amora's eyes widen with surprise. "I had this made for you and I wanted to give it to you before I left."Amora loved surprises, especially from Bucky. She snatched the box out of his hand and opened it slowly. "Oh my gods!" Amora looked up at him, her eyes lit up. "James..." She pulled out a long pendent necklace, made from gold. On the pendent was a saying written in Norse runes that said " I Will Love You, Forever and Always." She immediately put it on and ran in front of her vanity mirror. "I love it! You didn't have to do this."Bucky picked her up and spun her around, placing a passionate kiss on her lips, "Yes I did. Anything for my enchantress.""No! I'm just Amora!" She laughed and squirmed around in his arms, only making him hold on to her tighter."Soon you will learn to love that name, darling." He playfully kissed around her face before putting her down. Amora jokingly put her hand up to her head and saluted him, "Anything you say, Sergeant Barnes!""You are a tease aren't you?" Bucky gave her a smirk, playing with a strand of her hair, "You remember what happened the last time you teased me?""Hmmm...was that the time we did it in the shower or on the living room floor? I must of lost track." Amora raised Bucky's hand and twirled underneath it, "If you don't mind, I have a date I have to get ready for and he doesn't like to wait long for me.""You are gonna get it later," Bucky grinned as he pulled her in for a kiss, "I have to go find Steve, shouldn't take long. You going to be okay meeting us at the Stark Expo?""I am a strong, independent, Asgardian!" Amora opened up the closet, and picked the first dress she saw. "I will be fine, go get Steve and I will go get Pam.""Pam...that's her name!" Bucky snapped his fingers, and grabbed his military visor hat, "Well, darling, I will see you there! Remember, only say the good stuff about Steve to your friend," He gave her one last kiss before heading out to get Steve.Amora changed into pink button up dress and tightened a small belt around her waist. She stood in front of the mirror and slowly watched herself transform into "Lenna Moran." Amora pinned her hair up in a bob and put some bold red lipstick on her plump lips. "Just a couple hours, that's all."As Amora made her way down the sidewalk as Leena, she saw her friend, Pam, waiting for her at the end of the block. "Pam!" Amora changed her voice into Leena's high pitched squeaky voice. "Are you ready to see Mr. Howard Stark?""Yes! He's so handsome, don't you think? So, Lee, tell me about these guys we are meeting,""Oh my gosh, they are both amazing gentlemen! I met Bucky and his friend Steve while taking my morning stroll." Lies. "You are going to love Steve! He's so polite and is such a sweetheart. He may be a little awkward at first but, you just gotta bare with him." Her huge smile started to shrink a little, Leena noticed that they were started to approach the extravagant expo, "Hey, Pam?""Yeah, Leena?""You know the saying, don't judge a book by its cover?" Leena played with her necklace that Bucky gave her, before tucking it under her dress."Of course, I live by that saying. You know that Leena." Pam looked at Leena with a slightly confused look on her round face."Okay, good. Oh, I think I see them now!" Leena raised her hand and started waving it in the air, "Bucky! Over here!" She jumped slightly off the ground, still waving her hand in the air until she got their attention. The two gentlemen started to walk over and Leena noticed the shock in Pam's face, "Is the small one Steve?" Pam quickly said, a look of worry on her face."Remember, don't judge a book by its cover! Please, just give him a chance tonight.""Fine...he's just so...small." Leena noticed Pam becoming slightly uncomfortable with the appearance of small and scrawny Steve. She knew she would never hear the end of the double date for as long as "Leena Moran" was around. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "Come on! I want to see this!" Leena dragged Bucky through the busy crowd as they impatiently waited for a presentation from Mr. Howard Stark. "Apparently this is supposed to be something big!" Leena's voice squeaked with excitement, but deep down she just wanted to go home and spend the final hours with Bucky alone."Peanut?" Leena noticed Steve awkwardly shoving a bag in front of Pam's face, in which she quietly ignored him and kept her face forward. Leena tapped her foot impatiently on the ground and she felt Bucky squeeze her hand reassuringly. Finally, Howard Stark came out and the whole crowd went wild, all except for Steve, who had his mind set on other things. The presentation was on a flying car, which sadly only floated off the ground for about 5 seconds. Leena applauded and noticed Pam was just drooling at the site of Howard Stark. He was handsome, but he was definitely a playboy type and she could immediately tell just by him kissing the first woman he saw as he came on stage."Hey, where are the guys?" Pam shook Leena's sleeve, getting her attention off the car on fire."I-I don't know." Leena squeezed her way through the crowd as Pam followed, holding on to Leena's arm. "I found them!" They saw Bucky and Steve talking in the distance and immediately Leena knew that the date was coming to an end. "Hopefully the scrawny one goes home. I'll take that soldier any day." Pam flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and puckered her lips out, making Leena's jaw clench a little. Suddenly she noticed Bucky walking back towards them and Steve leaving in the other direction.""Come on, girls. Let's get out of here." Bucky threw his arm around Leena, giving her a little tap on her arm as a signal to end the date."Actually, I'm not feelin too well." Leena got the signal and put her hand up to her forehead, "I think I'm going to head home. Pam, I heard that Howard Stark was going to take photo's with some-""Say no more," Pam ran over and gave Leena a hug and nodded to Bucky, "Thanks for bringing me, but I really want to meet Mr. Stark." And like that Pam followed a group of girls who clearly had the same intentions."Well that was a short date, wasn't it?" Bucky playfully nudged Leena's shoulder, "The night is still young, doll.""I just want to head home and relax," Leena gave him a slight frown and started heading back to the street with Bucky close by her side."Don't you start this now. This is my last night here and I don't want to have to see you cry all night. That's the last thing I want to see before I leave. Can't we just have a night out?" Bucky kept up the pace with Leena's speed walk as she did not want to stay out and enjoy the nightlife. When they soon got to the quiet part of town, Leena noticed that not one person was out which did not shock her since nobody was ever roaming out past 10pm where they lived."Will you slow down and just talk to me!" Bucky saw she was picking up the pace even more, "Don't do this." He grabbed her arm and whipped her around, only to reveal that "Leena" was no more. "Amora! You didn't..""I am sick and tired of this, James! I am tired of hiding. I am tired of being Katie, Leena, Dot, Josie, Marie, Alice, you name them!" Her eyes started filling up with tears as she gently pulled her arm back, "I want to be me, dammit! Even on your last night I can't even be me. I have to be some other dame who doesn't even exist. At this point I don't care if someone saw me shapeshift. I just don't give a dam-""Amora, Stop it!" Bucky dragged her into an alley and gripped her shoulders tightly. She knew he was angry and she knew she shouldn't have done that. At least not on the night before Bucky left. "Do you realize what you have just done? If someone would of saw then we would of been done for. I understand why you did it, but why now? Fuck! Why are you doing this now, Amora? " She could hear the tone in his voice get more angry and all she could do is stand there and cry like a weak girl."I don't want to lose you, James. I have nothing if I don't have you." Amora buried her face in her hands, feeling Bucky's hands relax on her shoulders. "I have a bad feeling about you going over there and I know you can't do anything about it, but...I just wanted to spend your last night here as me and only me."Amora wiped away some tears of her cheeks before slowly the alley, leaving Bucky behind. She did not want to fight like this, not right before he leaves. She walked at a slow pace, hearing his footsteps follow behind her. Amora knew she couldn't do anything to take this back. For the first time she was walking the streets of Brooklyn as herself, but not in the way she pictured."Fuck it," she heard Bucky say behind her before being spun around and brought into a passionate kiss. Amora's eyes were wide open at the surprise, but soon enough she felt her tense body relax at little in Bucky's arms. Not breaking the kiss, Bucky picked her up and headed back towards their hidden apartment.What they didn't know was that, in the distance, someone was watching them. Seeing everything. The figure smirked and slid back into the shadows where two others were standing, "Send a message to Schmidt and Dr. Zola. We found something...something incredible.""James...wait..." Amora caught her breath as Bucky placed her on the bed, removing her dress, "Are you still mad at m-oh my gods..." Amora quietly gasped as Bucky kissed around her neck to her collar bone as he slowly unbuttoned her dress. His hand trailed up her inner thigh, rubbing her sweet spot through her underwear."No, my turn." With a wave of her hand both their clothes vanished off their bodies."I thought you said you weren't going to use magic?" Amora wrapped her legs around Bucky's waist and flipped her over so her was on top, "Or your strength," Bucky smirked and lifted his hands onto her breasts."I am impatient, darling," she leaned forward, gently biting his chest as she guided his shaft into her. "Very...very...impatient." She bit his chest again before sitting up straight and slowly moved her hips in a circular motion against him. She felt him grip her breasts a little harder as his moans brought satisfaction to her. As she leaned in to kiss him again she felt his arms wrap around her back and suddenly flip her over so she was on the bottom."You've forgotten that I know how to take you down, sweetheart." Bucky smirked as he thrusted into her body, making her moan in pleasure. She gently grabbed him by the neck and pulled him into passionate kiss, pressing her tongue against his. She could feel his hand gently grab her hair as his other held her other arm down. She felt him pull her head back with her hair so he could kiss and gently bite her neck. Amora could feel the adrenaline coarse through her body as Bucky quickened the movement in his hips."Don't you stop," Amora said between her breaths, her nails digging into his shoulder as she felt her body coming close to an orgasm. Amora arched her back up, feeling her body tremble as she released her orgasm. She fought her hardest not to scream when Bucky came inside her, sending another sensation through her body."I'm definitely going to miss that," Amora pushed back Bucky's hair as she gazed up at him, "You are my everything.""I take it you are more than satisfied then." Bucky kissed her forehead before getting off the bed, "I am going to miss that too. Especially those wonderful breasts.""Oh, stop it!" Amora slowly got up and headed towards the bathroom, grabbing her robe and nightgown. "I'm taking a shower. You made me all sweaty.""I was going to take a shower too! Hey...""Noooo. You had your fun!" Amora winked at him before closing the door behind her.Amora took a rather quick shower, saving some hot water for Bucky. In bed she read "The Hobbit," a book Bucky recommended to her after their first year of dating. She could feel her eyes get heavy with each word she read. As much as she wanted to wait for Bucky to get done taking a shower, she knew she couldn't keep her eyes open much longer. Amora placed the book on her nightstand and turned off her lamp light, letting her body sink into the bed."You are a pathetic excuse for an apprentice. You are worthless," a female voice says in an echo. Amora tossed and turned in her sleep, her breathing picking up at an uneasy speed. There is a glimpse of Asgard being under attacked and in flames. She sees herself sending an army of creatures in a modern city to attack the innocent. Another quick glimpse goes by her running down an empty hall in a panic when all of a sudden she sees a metal arm throw her against the wall... "No!" Amora shot up in bed, her body trembling.Bucky practically jumped out of bed and immediately grabbed her face in her hands, "Come back. Come on, Amora." Her green eyes were all foggy, her body cold and sweaty. After a few seconds Amora blinked a few times before seeing clearly again. She noticed the worried look on Bucky's face, "It happened again, didn't it?""Same dream?" Bucky pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, "Can you remember it this time?""No..." Amora could barely whisper, "It goes by so fast that I cannot make out what is happening. I think I wanted to hurt some people though." Amora laid her head back down against her fluffy pillow and let out a small groan, "This is the fifth time this has happened and I do not know why."Bucky stroked her hair and placed a small kiss on her temple, "It was just a bad dream, love." Bucky laid back down beside her and wrapped her in his arms protectively, "Dreams just don't come alive, sweetheart. You being upset just triggered a nightmare."Amora buried her face in his t-shirt, still trying to calm down, "This felt so real though. I'm just losing my damn mind." Bucky caressed her back softly to soothe her. Right as she was about to fall back asleep in his arms, the alarm clock went off. "No...please no.""I have to get ready." Bucky placed a kiss on her forehead and got up from the bed to gather his things together. "I called ahead and set a time for a taxi to pick me up. Should be here in about 30 minutes." Bucky spoke in a low tone in which Amora could easily hear the heartbreak in his voice.Amora slowly rose out of bed and put her robe on. She could feel her nose and throat burning as she started to cry, "How long will you be gone for again?""I don't know. However long it takes." Bucky brushed off his shoulder and placed his military visor on top of his head, "How do I look?" He was dressed in his officer's suit in which Amora thought always brought out his physique."Like a Sergeant." Amora face started aching when she smiled, her eyes getting more glossy as time was ticking away.Amora followed him down the steps where she saw the taxi waiting by the curb. She squeezed his hand tightly, knowing that this would be the last time she would see him in months. He placed his bags in the back of the taxi and asked the driver to give him a couple of minutes to say goodbye. "Please don't cry," Bucky held her close to his body, her body trembling as she sobbed into his chest. "The last thing I want to see is you cry." He gently raised her head and noticed she was clutching on to the necklace he gave her."Please come back to me." Amora wiped the tears off her face, noticing he was on the verge of crying too."I will, sweetheart. Who else is going to let you eat a whole ice cream box?" Amora couldn't help but smile at his comment, "There's that smile," Bucky cupped her face in his hand and placed a warm and loving kiss on her lips. Amora pressed her lips back to his, taking in every second before he would have to leave.Bucky slowly pulled his lips away from hers, taking a deep breath in. "I have to go."Amora wrapped her arms around chest, her head laying over his heart. She wanted to hear every beat, take in all of his warmth, feel his touch, before he would depart. She felt him place a kiss on top of her head before she slowly put her arms down. "I love you. So very much," she said in a soft voice, giving his hand one last squeeze."And I love you. Forever and always."Just like that, he was gone. As she watched the cab disappear down the road. Amora didn't even realize that she had gone out as her own self. She clutched the necklace tightly and headed back to the apartment, her head hanging low."Forever and always." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- 3 weeks laterAmora rubbed her aching temples, processing all the information that Dr. Erksine was giving her. "You are telling me that you replicated particles in my blood and think you successfully created the formula?" She rubbed her eyes while Dr. Erksine babbled on excitedly, running around the lab."It will be great, Miss Incantare! This formula will give a regular man the ability to heal rapidly, run as fast as a car, pick up things twice their size, and perhaps slow down their aging. Mr. Stark is finishing up with the equipment today so we will be ready for the test tomorrow," Dr. Erksine removed his glasses and took a seat across from her, "I disposed your blood so no one will ever know. You should be excited, Amora. This is what I have been working on for years.""I am happy for you, Erksine. It is just I have couple of concerns," Amora crossed her legs, still rubbing her eyes. The light was irritating her today, in fact, everything was irritating her since Bucky left. "You have Mr. Stark creating all this equipment when he can't even lift a damn 'floating' car off the ground for more than 10 seconds and not only that but Steve Rogers?! Why him? He will never survive this, Abraham!" Amora knew that if something happened to Steve that she would never forgive herself. He was Bucky's best friend and if something happened to him, she did not want to be one of the people behind it."Everything will be fine," Dr. Erksine gave her a reassuring smile before getting up, "Steven Rogers is different than all of the other choices. You should of seen him at basic training today. Even you would of been impressed.""I don't want to be apart of sending a weak and sickly man to his grave because you want to make him a human god," Amora got up and grabbed her coat before rushing out of the lab. At first she thought this experiment would be a good idea, but now she knew that there would be more risks.The next day Amora woke with a slight headache and a nauseous feeling in her stomach. She made some herbal tea, which immediately stopped the pain and nausea. Today was the day that the experiment would be conducted on Steve Rogers, which Amora would not be apart of. She didn't want to go and watch the love of her life's best friend go through pain and perhaps die. She put on a black trumpet skirt, a white blouse tucked underneath it, her long necklace as her favorite everyday accessory, along with her brown trench coat, and light brown cloche hat. She would occasionally go out as a different identity once in awhile, but today she was going out as herself to treat herself at the new bakery that opened up downtown.She tried to keep herself as busy as she could to make the days go by faster. It has been three weeks since Bucky has left for Europe and she had sent him probably over a dozen letters already. She recalled him telling her something about him being in the 107th, but Amora didn't quite understand what he meant. He knew that she had been working with the scientists, but Amora never went in depth of what it was they did, which now she regretted not telling him. Amora took a deep breath in, trying not to think of the all the depressing thoughts she had about Bucky being away.The walk wasn't too long for Amora. She wore comfy heels that she knew wouldn't give her feet blisters after five blocks. The bakery was right down the street from the lab, hence how she knew a new bakery at opened. As she opened the door, she immediately smelled the fresh bread and muffins that were being made. Amora walked up to the counter where she was greeted by a kind, older, gentlemen who was clearly the baker here. She ordered a chocolate chip muffin as well as some French bread to take home. Amora noticed some small tables in the small bakery and took a seat and the furthest one, the warmth of the muffin in her hand made her stomach growl loudly as she was impatient to eat.As she was about to finish her muffin, Amora heard screams down the street. Everybody in the bakery went to the window and started pointing. All of a sudden, there was an explosion and then another one shortly after. Amora got up from her seat and ran out the door to see if she could get a better look of what was going on."Oh gods. No!" She saw men laying dead around the old antique shop where the lab was located under. Quickly she ran across the street and cautiously stepped over their dead bodies as she entered the antique shop."Oh gods!" She covered her mouth and stumbled back a little at the site of a old woman with a dozen bullet wounds in her torso. Amora turned her head away, covering her mouth in her arm. She took a few deep breaths in before making her way down to the lab. As soon as she got there she felt her body go into complete shock. Dr. Erksine was lying dead on the ground. Amora ran and collapsed at his side, checking for any signs of a pulse."Please don't do this to me, Abraham. Please don't be gone." No pulse. Amora's body trembled as she held Dr. Erksine's lifeless hand. "No..." She lowered her head and quietly sobbed, not letting go of his hand."Hey, you!" A couple undercover agents drew out their guns at her, "Get up! Let me see your hands!" One agent got closer and yanked her up by her neck, making Amora yelp."Unhand me this second!" Amora was furious now, "How dare you touch me!""How the hell did you get in here?" The two agents kept their guns on her, "Answer the fucking question!""And I said to let me go!" In a split second the agent that kept ahold of Amora's neck was on the other side of the room. Amora looked at the other agent and raised up her hand, sending a bolt of green energy out at him, knocking him unconscious. Realizing what she done, Amora quickly got out of the lab, not even bothering looking at the damage. She ran up the stairs and out of the shop where she saw General Phillips talking to tall and muscular man."Steve?" Amora whispered to herself, examining the man that stood a few feet away from her."Miss Incantare, is that you?" General Phillips approached Amora, a look of anger and worry on his face, "What in the hell are you doing here?""And I could ask you what happened," Amora crossed her arms, furrowing her eyebrows together."Hydra. One snuck in and planted a bomb before running off with the serum. Thankfully Mr. Rogers got ahold of him before he took a cyanide capsule."Amora looked down the street to see even more damage, "Good gods...and what of the serum?""It shattered on the ground, miss." Steve approached the two, leaving Amora in more shock as she got an up close look at him. "We need to act now, General-""No, no. You are not going anywhere, Rogers. I will get Agent Carter to escort you back to base, " General Phillips pointed to Steve and then to Amora, "You and I are going to have a talk."General Phillips motioned Amora over to a black car where they both got in and drove off to the army base. "I'm shipping you out to Tonsberg, Norway. About a year ago Hydra went there and practically destroyed the whole village. We think they got something from there.""Tonsberg?" Amora shook her head slightly, clutching her hands into a fist, "No, no, no, this is not good.""Why is that?""They have some ruins there that mean something to us gods." Amora sighed and rested her head back, "When do I leave?""Now."Tonsberg, Norway.As Amora arrived in the small village, she saw that the majority of it was still covered in rubble and ash. She made her way to the center of the village to the old Viking ruin where villagers worked on to repair the damage."Excuse me?" Amora said in Norwegian, "Your keeper, is he here?" Amora was gifted in the ability to speak in all languages, a gift she rarely used as much as she should of. She always hid this ability just so she could "play dumb" whenever someone spoke in a different language."You are too late, lady." The villager responded, rubbing some sweat off his face, "You are a year too late as you can see. We don't have the money to replace everything here so we work with what we can do. ""The tesseract...where is it?" Amora stepped inside the old ruin and looked around until she spotted the mural of the Yggdrasil tree."How did you kn-a goddess." The villagers working on the repairing the building stopped what they were doing and knelt in respect. "We protected it for Odin for so many years, they took it and bombed half our village.""Please, there is no need to kneel. Odin spoke of this village quite frequently since he entrusted your keeper with the tesseract," Amora dusted off the mural and turned back towards the villagers, "You are loyal subjects of the Norse Gods, yes?""Yes, our people worshipped them for years," one villager spoke up, "I have read all the books and I know who you are. You are associated with the golden apples.""Was." Amora approached the villagers and they all stood back up, "I will help you restore your village for as long as I can. It will be my way of thanking you mortals of guarding the tesseract for so long."The villagers bowed as Amora nodded her head in respect to them. Amora raised her hand and focused on the rubble surrounding ruin. The ground slightly shook as green energy circled around the rubble, causing it to be put back in place together. The ruin looked as though it has never been touched. Amora felt free being able to use her powers again. It has been seven years since she last got to exercise her other abilities."On to the next?"November 1943-Six months later"My lady, my lady!" A small child ran up to Amora as she sat with the elders of the Tonsberg Village. The young boy handed her a letter that was addressed to "Leena Moran." It was from Bucky. Amora excused herself and impaitently opened the letter.My dearest Amora,I apologize for not being able to write as much as I want to. Things have been crazy here in Italy and I just want you to know that I am safe. Thank you for letting me know that you have been safe in Norway. When you first told me you went there I nearly had a heart attack, but knowing you are safe has been keeping me at ease. I appreciate all your letters keeping me updated with what you are doing on a daily basis, sweetheart. You are what keeps me going everyday, Amora. I cannot wait for you to be back in my arms and until then, know that I have been thinking about you every second of every day, darling. I love you, Amora.James.As soon as Amora got done reading the letter she busted out into tears, relieved to hear from him. She had written over a hundred letters to him and in return she only received 3 while staying here in Norway. The villagers welcomed her to stay after Amora used her powers to rebuild the village. Amora took their offer, only knowing that Bucky was only a few countries away."I need to go." Amora walked back into the main room of the small cottage where the elders sat. "Something has come up and I must attend to it." She felt a sudden urge to just leave and she didn't know exactly why. She needed to see Bucky, just to put her mind at ease that he was really okay."We understand, my lady. Your actions and great kindness will never be forgotten. " They all nodded their heads in respect as Amora grabbed a black cloak to cover a simple, grey, dress she wore. Amora exited the small cottage and vanished into thin air.She appeared at an army base in Italy where everyone seemed to be in a panic. She headed for the tents where she immediately found General Phillips and Agent Carter. "Incantare! What the hell?!" The General smashed down some files of paper as Amora approached them, "Nearly six months and I don't hear a report from you and you just show up out of the blue! Perfect timing right when now I have to worry about a rescue party. Dammit. ""I'm sorry did you say rescue party?" Amora looked at them both, a look of worry in her face."Steve Rogers decided to take it upon himself to set foot on the Hydra base to see if our men are still alive. All of the 107th were presumed dead." Agent Peggy Carter looked at Amora with a sense of worry as well."107th? 107th!?" Amora could feel herself go into a panic as she paced around the tent, "Presumed dead? No. No. No. No." She looked up and noticed them staring at her, looking confused. "I...made some friends that were placed in the 107th." Peggy gave her a small squeeze on her shoulder before walking out of the tent."I think Agent Carter has a thing for Captain America.""Captain who?" Amora focused on her trembling hands, noticing General Phillips was trying to change the conversation."Captain America. You know, Steve Rogers.""No...no I don't know." Amora felt anger and frustration circulate through her. She didn't want to believe anything that she had heard about the 107th. She quietly groaned and stormed out of the tent, wiping some tears off her face."Amora!" Peggy called, walking up to her. "I know we don't know each other very well, but I understand what you are feeling. I want them all to be safe too." Peggy didn't know that Amora was Asgardian. All she believed was that that Amora is a medic from Norway who decided to help aid Dr. Erskine in his studies. The two ladies walked together in silence when all of a sudden they started to hear cheering."They're back!" An officer called as he dashed passed them like he was caught on fire.Amora quickly turned around, feeling her stomach turn with nervousness as she was afraid she wouldn't see Bucky. A crowd covered the rescued soldiers and "Captain America" as they all cheered and applauded. Amora kept a distance, not wanting to get too close. She got on top of a wooden box and saw the much taller Steve Rogers with an exhausted Bucky right next to him. Amora exhaled a breath of relief, feeling her legs get weak. She felt more tears stream down her face, in which she couldn't control. She was just happy he was alive. As Amora was about to get off the wooden box she took one last glimpse of Bucky, only noticing him staring back at her with a look of shock in his face. She gave him a small smile and a nod, not wanting to make a scene and jumped down, making her way to the tents. As she gotten further away from the excited crowd she felt someone grab her arms and push her behind one of the tents."What the hell are you doing here?" Bucky kept ahold of her arms, his face dark and exhausted, his clothes torn and loose."I needed to know if you were okay." Amora spoke with a shaky voice, observing his whole features. "They said that you were all presumed dead and..and.." Amora closed her eyes tightly and shook her head, "I'm sorry. I do not know what came over me."Amora heard Bucky sigh and say something under his breath before taking one of her hands into his, "It's too dangerous for you to be here, doll." She felt Bucky's hand touch the gold necklace that hung around her neck, "I see you are still wearing your necklace.""I never take it off. It is like always having a piece of you with me wherever I go when you are not there." Amora looked up at him through her glossy eyes as he lifted her off the ground and gave her a deep kiss."I'm just happy to see my love again and to know that you are still in one piece," Bucky smiled before placing another kiss on her lips.Amora wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss a little. Just feeling his heart beat against her chest made her comforted. They kept their lips locked together before hearing footsteps approach them."Buck?" Steve said in surprise as Amora and Bucky stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing. "Umm, I was hoping to talk to you about something. That is if you're not busy at the moment." Steve rubbed his neck awkwardly as Amora turned away, embarrassed."That's fine," Bucky cleared his throat and gave Amora's hand a squeeze before walking away with Steve."Shit!" Amora whispered to herself, covering her face in her hands. "Dammit, Amora! Why do you do impulsive things like teleport to Italy and then get caught making out after hiding everything for seven years?" Amora asked herself before gently smacking the side of her head. After standing there for a few moments, Amora composed herself and walked back out to where she would look for Peggy Carter or General Phillips to see what they would want her to do next. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Amora paced slowly around the bunker that was known as the "Brooklyn Bunker." She cracked her knuckes and each finger indivisouly, waiting to hear further instructions on whether she would be staying or not. She tapped her heel to the ground impatiently, observing all the men and women who were typing and observing maps."Miss Incantare," General Phillips walked up to her, "You have some explaining to do." He shoved some old books in her arms and gave her a grim look. "During Captain America's rescue mission he noticed that Hydra's weapons had a power to them that we cannot explain. I think whatever it is they went to Norway for is what's powering those weapons."Amora looked through the dusty books that General Phillips gave to her, "Norse Mythology? General, you do not expect me to read these? Tis a joke!""Then you better damn well give me an answer to all of this and why I didn't get a report back of Tonsberg. Roger's found a map of other Hydra bases so I am giving you about 24 hours to come up with a answer.""And if I already have an answer?" Amora dusted off the top book, examining the runes on it."Then you are wasting all of our time here.""I don't know exactly what it is," Amora let out a small sneeze from all the dust. She quickly glanced around, making sure nobody was close by. "The tesseract was one of Odin's great treasures. Many years ago, he brought it down to Midgard so it would be kept safe. I do not know the extent of everything," Amora kept her voice low, "What I do know is that it has great power. I learned that your little Hydra friend took it while paying an unwelcomed visit to Tonsberg. I will read your books, but I know what is true and what is not." Amora left it at that, not giving General Phillips the time to ask her more questions. She had given him the information that she had knew, but she did wonder if any of these old Norse Mythology books would have any other answers in them that even she did not know about.The next day, Amora traded in her cloak from Tonsberg for a more warm rain coat. Luckily, she was given her own room for privacy. She laid flat on the small bed, the mythology book levitating over her head. Amora found herself getting frustrated as she read on. Some of the information she read was just inaccurate or never happened at all. She heard a sudden knock at the door which made her jump and lose concentration, having the book land right on her face."Ouch! Dammit!" Amora rubbed the side of her face, knowing it was about to turn red, "Come in!" She threw her legs over the end of the bed, picking up the book, and raising it to cover her face."They told me you would be-why are you holding up a book so high?" Bucky closed the door behind him before walking over to her, lowering the book, "What happened to your face? It's all red.""I was reading while laying on my back and when you knocked I may of dropped it on my face." Amora gave him an innocent smile and got up , "How did your talk with Steve go? I didn't want to bother you since-" She cut herself off and closed her eyes tightly, the feeling of guilt coming over her again."I didn't tell him anything. Not yet, at least." Bucky took a seat on the small bed, pressing his back against the wall, "We are going back out there you know.""I figured," Amora sat down next to him, pulling all her hair over one shoulder, "You are going after all the Hydra bases aren't you?""This needs to come to an end, Amora. If we can infiltrate one base, gather some of their high tech weapons, then we can damn well fuck up their other bases.""What did they do to you, James?" Amora pressed her warm hand against his cold cheek as she examined his tired eyes, "They did something to do.""I don't really remember. They knew my name, probably from my dog tags. This German scientist told me some things, but I can't recall what he said. Then I wake up and see Steve." He took her hand in his and brought it to his mouth for a kiss, "I am feeling better now, darling," He gently caressed her hand with his thumb, I don't want you losing sleep now.""This is too dangerous." Amora hung her head, shaking it softly, "I know I cannot stop you though. You are too stubborn, James Barnes." She lifted her head and placed it on his chest, "When do you start?""Tomorrow.""For how long?" Amora looked up at him, feeling him tighten his hold around her."It could be over a year." Bucky placed a kiss on her forehead, "This is war, darling. It's not like it's an two hour event.""Then I am staying here with you." Amora sat up straight, knowing Bucky was about to protest against her. "I will send the landlord rent payment for three years and I will just stay here and help out in anyway I can.""Amora-""Do not start with me, James!" Amora took his face in her hands and pressed her forehead gently to his, "I thought I lost you once...I don't want to lose you again.""And you won't." Bucky placed his lips upon her, gently laying her down on the bed. His hands trailed up her thighs, spreading them apart. "I can't resist you," He broke the kiss for a second as his hands squeezed on to her thighs."Then don't..." Her hands trailed under his shirt, feeling his abs and chest as he slowly kissed down her neck. Amora bit her bottom lip and breathed heavily through her nose as Bucky unbuttoned her dressed and kissed down to her stomach. Her fingers grabbed his messy hair as he continued to work his way down, slowly pulling off her underwear. Amora pushed her head back deeper into the pillow, trying her hardest not to moan too loudly as people were constantly passing through the hallway outside her room."James...we have to be...quiet." Amora panted softly as Bucky softly spread her flaps with his fingers and moved his tongue in a circular motion around her pearl, moving his fingers down to her opening. Amora folded the pillow over her mouth, trying to muffle her moans as Bucky's fingers penetrated her. She arched her body, feeling an orgasm coming on, when he suddenly stopped."You are not getting off that easy." Bucky growled and got on top of her, unzipping his pants. Amora wrapped her legs around his waist as he slowly inserted himself into her, making her bite his shoulder to stop from moaning loudly. He thrusted slowly into her, sending her into a frenzy."You just want to get caught don't you?" Amora moaned softly into his ear, her fingers entangled in his hair. He started to pick up the pace a little, his hand rubbing her breast through her bra."I like to live on the edge a little," Bucky gently bit her earlobe, thrusting in and out of her at a fast pace. Amora legs tightened around his waist, not wanting him stop. She felt the sensation grow deeper with every thrust that penetrated her. Amora bit into Bucky's shoulder again as she felt herself release an orgasm, one that was long overdue. She kept her legs tightly wrapped around his waist as she felt him working up an orgasm inside her. Amora buried her face into his shoulder and collarbone to muffle her loud moans as he released inside of her, sending a warm sensation up her body."On second thought," Bucky panted and kissed Amora deeply on the lips, "I think you should stay. I don't think I can go a year or two without you." He got off her and adjusted himself, using a small mirror on the wall to make sure he looked decent enough to go back out.Amora slowly buttoned up her dress, "So you want me here for sex?" She still laid on the bed, feeling too exhausted to get up."Not just sex. You think I'm a savage? " Bucky sat down beside her and caressed her cheek with his thumb, "I just want to have you here with me. I feel better knowing you are around.""Good," Amora slowly got up, pushing back her long hair, "Because I am not going anywhere."After Bucky left, Amora conjured up some money and placed it in an envelope with a letter to "Leena Moran's" landlord back in Brooklyn. She wanted to make sure that nothing would happen to her and Bucky's home while they were here. Amora had no idea how long it would be until her and Bucky could finally go home, but she was willing to stay for as long as it took.1945, Late in the year."Two years and how many Hydra bases have these men taken down?" Amora popped her gum as she sat on the end of a large table with a map of Europe on it."Nearly all of them...well the one's that Steve saw on the map." Peggy took another small "H" flag off the map and placed it into a box with a whole other bunch of small flags."Impressive." Amora popped another bubble, placing a pencil behind her ear. "I am sure it was made easier for them once they got ahold of some of Hydra's weapons.""Precisely. Though this is not an easy job and these men are risking everything." Peggy placed her hands on her hips and exhaled, "We are getting closer and closer. I just know it.""When do they leave on their next mission?" Amora jumped down, taking the pencil from behind her ear and setting it on the table."Today. They are going up to the Alps."Amora inhaled deeply as she put her coat on, "Very well, thank you Agent Carter.""Random question! Are you going to be participating in the Christmas dinner this year?" Peggy looked up from the map, "Nurse Calligan's cheese dip made nearly a dozen people sick last year.""So that's why I had to help baby all those men," Amora chuckled and shook her head, "No. We do not celebrate Christmas where I come from.""So that's why we haven't seen you at the past two Christmas gatherings." Howard Stark walked in with a cocky smile on his face. "I don't even know who you are, but I know I won't forget a gorgeous face like yours!""Trust me," Amora rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "I know everything about you, Mr. Stark. Sadly enough.""There's nothing to be sad about here!" Howard Stark combed back his hair, giving Amora a wink.Amora rolled her eyes again and waved while walking out of the bunker and into the cold weather. Christmas was never celebrated by the Norse Gods. Amora understood that mortal men worshipped a different god and even had holidays for their god. She compromised with Bucky and only celebrated Christmas by giving gifts and not the religious aspect of it.As Amora approached the tents she saw Captain America and his team, "The Howling Commandos" assemble all their things together before heading out. She walked by close enough to where she caught one's attention."Oh!" The big one that went by the name of "Dum Dum Dugan" quickly approached her with a huge cheesy smile on his face. "You are the nurse that helped with the cheese dip disaster last year right?""I am," Amora placed her cold hands in her coat pockets, "What can I help you with?""I have this stomach ache that I need you to-""Okay," Bucky came up and patted him on the shoulder, "We know you have a crush on the nurse, but I have a much more severe stomach ache that I need to talk to her about.""Pssh! Yeah right," Dum Dum had a look of disappointment on his face as he walked away, "Always ruining the fun.""So you are heading out?" Amora shivered slightly as snow began to fall down."In a couple of minutes. I need to talk to you before we head out." Bucky gently grabbed her arm and walked her a few steps away from the group. "I told Steve.""What?" Amora stopped in her tracks, "You told him everything? I mean...everything?" She had a look of fear across her pale face."Everything. It was tough at first, but I had to do it." Bucky adjusted his rifle strap on his shoulder, "It was hard enough not telling my best friend for the first few years that we dated. Now I tell him after nine years of dating. Shit.""How did he take it?" Amora felt her nose start to run a little bit from the cold."He was pissed at first," Bucky chuckled, "Then after explaining everything, he understood and said he would of done the same. Which brings me to my next thing.""Oh gods," Amora smiled and rolled her eyes, "You told the whole army base too?""No," Bucky grinned and brought her hand out of her pocket so he could hold it, "After this we are going back home for a little bit.""What? Why? I thought you aren't supposed to leave yet." Amora looked at him confused, but at the same time she was happy to hear that they would be going back home."There is something I have to do. So when we get home I want you to get your best dress on because I am taking you out.""We are going back to Brooklyn because you want to take me out on a date?" Amora laughed and squeezed his hand, "We can just do that here, silly.""No. It's much bigger than that, sweetheart." Bucky smiled, his thumb gently rubbing her hand."Then can you tell me? It seems like a big surprise or something." Amora slightly bounced on her heels with a look of happiness across her cold face."I am not telling you anything, doll. It is a surprise I have been planning for awhile, but I never knew what would be the right time to give you this...present.""James! You are killing me! You know I cannot wait long for surprises." Amora was grinning so wide that her cheeks started hurting."Patience, love." He chuckled and cupped her face in his warm hands, "I love you so much. You are my everything, sweetheart." Bucky pulled her in for a deep kiss, in which one of the Commandos whistled to.Amora kissed him back deeply, feeling her heart skip a beat or two, "I love you more than anything in these nine realms, James Buchanan Barnes. I have nothing if I do not have you,""I will see you when I get back, darling. I love you." He placed one last kiss on her soft lips before heading back over to the Commandos who were all sitting in the back of a Chevrolet army truck.Amora could hear Dum Dum mutter something to Bucky in which all the guys laughed, except for Steve. "And I will be here when you get back," she whispered to herself as she watched the truck drive away, disappearing into the snow.Later that night Amora got all her belongings together and awaited for the Commandos arrival. She felt nervous and excited that they would be returning home for awhile. She missed their warm apartment, the bakery a few blocks down, and her comfy bed. She saw the Chevrolet truck arrive back and felt the excitement grow in her. One by one each Commando got off the back of the truck with a grim and mourning look on their faces. She felt her heart beat a little faster as Steve Rogers jumped down and approached the General. There was no Bucky anywhere. She felt a panic inside her as she stared at Captain America and General Phillips."No...please...no..." Amora whispered, feeling her stomach, giving her a nauseous feeling. Steve spotted out Amora and slowly approached her, a look of confusion and fear on her face. "What is going on?" Amora felt her voice shake as Steve approached her."I don't know how to say it.." Steve said as tears started to form in his eyes. "I know you loved him very much-""Fucking say it!" Amora screamed, causing all the attention on her and Captain America."We lost Bucky." Steve said looking down, wiping a tear off his face.Just like that, Amora felt something snap inside her, "What do you fucking mean?" She hissed, feeling a mixture of anger and sadness rise within her, "Answer me!""We were on a train and Bucky and I were fighting a heavily armed Hydra soldier. The soldier blasted through the wall, causing Bucky to fly out. Bucky was hanging on and-and I couldn't reach far enough." Steve raised his hands and took a step forward to her, "He told me everything, Amora. I know you know that." Amora felt the tears streaming down her face as she quickly turned away, heading away from the crowd. She felt an emptiness consume her for she just lost the only thing she ever truly loved."Amora!" Steve ran up behind her and grabbed her shoulder. Amora spun and flung her arm around, pushing him back with her powers. Green energy swirled around her as her eyes turned nothing but green. "You couldn't save him!" Her screams echoed as her powers grew stronger. Soldiers began to retreat back as some brought out their weapons to fire in defense at the goddess's rage. "Don't shoot!" Steve shouted, getting his shield off his back.Amora let out a blood curdling scream and dropped to her knees, sending green bolts of energy all over the camp, nearly destroying everything in a close radius to her. "Noooo!" She screamed as tears rolled down her eyes, clutching the necklace Bucky had given her. The green energy swirled around her faster and faster and within a few seconds Amora had vanished, leaving nearly half the camp destroyed. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Amora teleported herself back to Asgard for she felt she had nothing else to live for back on Earth. She collapsed on the ground, her face buried into her hands, and sobbed. All she could feel was grief and emptiness at this point. She didn't want to come to conclusion that the man she loved was gone forever. It was too hard to face."My dear, sweet, girl. Why do you cry?" Amora heard a woman's voice above her as she kept her face buried in her hands, her golden hair falling over her face and hands."Please...I wish to be left alone." Amora felt a hand gently pat the top of her head as she quietly sobbed."Tis alright, child. No harm will come to you. You are in the realm of the Norn Queen," the voice said."Karnilla!" Amora's head shot up at Karnilla, her tears streaming down her face, "Forgive me, my lady. I thought I teleported into Asgard, not Nornheim." The lady who towered over her had beautiful violet eyes and hair black as night. Her dress consisted of extravagant jewels and armor that glistened a little too brightly."Nornheim is a province of Asgard," Karnilla smirked and placed her hand under Amora's chin, gently tilting her head up further to examine her, "I sense power in you, pretty one. A great power and a great sadness of a sorceress. Let me help you.""And why should I let you help me? I am perfectly fine." Amora pushed Karnilla's hand away and slowly rose, wipping the dirt off her dress."You came from Midgard, yes?" Karnilla examined Amora's mortal attire before snapping her fingers and changing Amora's clothes into a plain green dress that reached her thighs. Amora didn't react to the change, all she did was stand there with her head hanging low. "Pitiful place, yes? I will help take your mind off the pain, child. No woman as gorgeous as you deserves that amount of pain.""And if I let you help me will you leave me alone for a bit?" Amora tucked her gold necklace from Bucky under her dress, holding her arms close to her chest."Of course..." Karnilla smirked as she examined the heartbroken Amora, plotting what to do with her. "Then I will help you unlock the full potential to your powers and you, my dear, will become a great power. No more pain...no more sadness.""I feel so much pain," Amora couldn't stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks as she whispered to herself, "What I would give to bring him back." Amora sighed and wiped few tears off her cheeks, "Very well.""Come," Karnilla extended her arm out to a towering palace that overlooked Nornheim, "Let us get you settled in...my apprentice."Amora spent the next 46 years training under Karnilla in Nornskeep. Her powers and spells grew stronger than any other sorcerer in Asgard and her heart grew darker and darker as the years went on. Amora would disobey Karnilla during her training sessions and in return would get beat or tortured, making her turn cold towards the Norn Queen."Again!" Karnilla shouted from her thrown, as she drank mead out of a golden goblet, "Another love spell, child." Amora wipped the blood off her lip as she examined the ravaged troll in front of her. She glared at the Norn Queen as she cracked her fingers and sent a bolt of green energy out of her hands through the troll's chest, instantly killing him."How about no?" Amora flipped her hair over her shoulder, giving Karnilla a scornful look."This is the last time you disobey me! You are a worthless excuse for an apprentice!" Karnilla stood up, throwing her drink onto the floor. "I should kill you!""And you are nothing but an old hag who sits on a thrown demanding me entertain her!" Amora hissed back, her green eyes glaring at the enraged queen."I took your pathetic self in and made you into something great and this is how you repay me?!" Karnilla screamed, "Get out! If I ever see you step foot in here again, I will give you a slow and painful death, Amora.""You made me? Ha! You made nothing, cow. I was the one who pushed myself to this." Amora turned her back on Karnilla and made her way out of the thrown room, "You are the one who should be worried if I ever come back." This was the last straw for Amora. She was done with being demanded around and beaten at the Queen's wishes."You are a weak sorceress, Amora! Amora, the worthless." Karnilla slowly followed, purple energy flowing around her hands as she was planning on attacking Amora."No. I am not a weak sorceress," Amora turned and looked at Karnilla with a dark look, "I am The Enchantress." Amora clutched her gold necklace before hiding the pendent again under her dress.Karnilla screamed and shot a bolt of energy out at Amora. In which, Amora had already disappeared from the palace. Karnilla headed back up to her thrown where a servant was waiting with another goblet of mead. "Tell the guards to be on the lookout for her. I want her dead if she shows her face around Nornheim again."Amora appeared on a long road that was in the middle of nowhere. It was freezing and it was dark. She looked around, not being able to see much and chose a direction to walk in. She knew that disobeying Karnilla and leaving Nornheim was a death wish, though she was prepared to make it. As Amora walked further down she noticed a road gate with a heavily armed guard standing beside it. She smirked to herself as she got closer to the guard."Put your hands up, miss!" The guard drew his weapon as Amora held up her hands, walking slowly towards him. "We got a situation here," he said over his walkie as Amora drew closer to him."No need for that," She gave an innocent smile, "I am just a helpless, lost, girl. Can a handsome man like yourself tell me where I am?""You kidding lady?" The guard kept his weapon up as someone responded to his walkie call."I would not respond if I were you." Amora lowered her eyes, "It would be wise too to lower your weapon.""And it would be wise for you to shut your damn mouth," the guard was about to press the button on his walkie when he felt a sharp pain in his wrist,"AHHH!" He screamed as his wrist was suddenly bent all the way back to his arm. Amora smirked and focused her powers on his knee, snapping it back. She lowered her hands as the guard fell to the ground, yelling in pain. "I guess we had to do this the hard way." She placed her hand on his shoulder, throwing him in a trance. "Where am I, mortal?""S.H.I.E.L.D. headquaters." The guard said flatly, staring straight ahead with an expressionless look on his face."What is the date?" Amora took her hand off him, still leaving him in the trance-like state."December 16, 1991.""Hmm, seems I have been gone for far too long. Are you waiting for anything special?" Amora raised her brow, as she brought her heel up to his chest and kicked him over."The arrival of Howard Stark.""Oh, fascinating!" Amora snickered and looked down the road, "And where is Mr. Stark?""I don't know, my lady." Amora brought up her hand and shot an energy bolt at the guard's face, blowing a hole right through his mouth."Thank you for the information. Now, if you will excuse me. I have to find a Stark." Amora examined the corpse before teleporting down the road mile by mile until she heard screams in the distance. She teleported into the wooded area, not wanting to be seen. As she got closer she saw a car that was on the side of the road with a body laying next to it on the ground. Amora slowly crept up to the scene, examining the corpse on the ground, and finding another one in the car. As Amora got closer to the body she noticed a familiar face."Howard Stark?" She looked at him and looked at the woman who laid dead in the car, "I take it that must be Mrs. Howard Stark." Amora walked around the car, feeling uneasy about the sight she saw. She never liked Howard Stark, but she knew he didn't deserve to die like this. Amora paced around some more, clutching onto her gold necklace that she never took off, trying to hide the pain of sadness at the thought of when she lost Bucky. Suddenly, she got the feeling she wasn't alone. Amora turned her back towards the car and saw a dark figure standing down the road."I take it you are behind this," Amora called to the figure, pointing to the accident. "Not sure if I am a fan." The figure didn't respond, but instead aimed a rifle at her and started shooting. Amora took cover behind an energy shield, feeling the pressure of the bullets bounce off."Let's have some fun, shall we?" Amora smirked and shot a bolt of energy out at the figure before quickly getting frustrated that they easily dodged it."So you want to play hard to get?" She winked at the figure before sending another bolt out, "Then let's play." The figure got struck by her last bolt, but quickly recovered before charging at her."Come and get some," She hissed as the dark figure got closer, drawing out a grenade. Amora quickly dodged to the side as the grenade exploded, sending her rolling a few feet. She heard a loud ringing in her ears as she tried to focus and get back up. Her vision was blurry from the blast, but she could make out the figure as a man. She squinted as the light from the flames brightened up his frame, exposing a metal arm. He slowly approached her, aiming a gun at her head.Amora groaned, feeling weak from the grenade blast. She knew time was running out before she got a bullet in her head. She took one last glance at the metal arm with her blurry vision before squeezing her eyes shut and then opening them to find she was back in Asgard. Still feeling dizzy and weak, Amora laid on the ground as some palace guards rushed to her attention."My lady, what happened? You are injured." One of the palace guards helped lift Amora to her feet, wrapping her arm around his neck for support."Oh, just a bit of fun, that's all." Amora smiled to herself before giving a stern look to the guards, "Are you men idiots? Get me to the healing room now!"The guards did as she said and took her to the healing room where Amora treated a few burns from the grenade blast. She found herself staring off into space, recapping everything that happened from Karnilla to having a grenade explode beside her."Amora!" A deep voice rumbled through the room."Hello, Odin." Amora kept her face forward, treating another burn, "How was your nap?""Killing a mortal, Amora?!" Odin stomped his staff to the ground in front of her, "First you disappear for decades then you decide to become an apprentice with the Norn Queen. What is with you? The gods had not had any Golden Apples in 46 years! Your behavior and actions are unacceptable.""That pathetic mortal was in my way, Allfather. Besides, he would of shot me," She rose from her seat and smiled innocently at Odin, "I will deliver you Golden Apples as my way of apologizing for not attending to you needy Gods for so long.""One more chance, Amora. One more chance. I would hate to throw you in prison, but I will." Odin glared at her before storming out of the room with his personal guards.Amora felt herself crumbling inside. She took a deep breath in to compose herself, fighting her sensitive emotions from showing. Since losing Bucky she vowed to never love again or feel love. At times she would catch herself crying herself to sleep, even after all these years. Amora carried herself as a cold hearted goddess and didn't care if she had to break a more than a few bones if someone got in her way. Her heart was empty and dark and she knew that the only thing that could ever bring her back was the love of her life. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- PRESENT DAY"Another attack on Vanaheim?" Odin adjusted himself in his throne, gripping tightly on to his staff, "This is the second attack that happened in four years.""We have it under control," the guard stayed kneeled in front of the throne, "The God of Thunder and the Warrior's Three came and took care of everything. We are in the process of cleaning up the damaged that was caused.""Good," Odin leaned back in his seat and dismissed the guard, "You are dismissed." Odin rose up from his throne and started his way down the long corridors to a large balcony where another Asgardian awaited his arrival."Enchantress.." Odin approached the goddess as she overlooked the city, "Do you remember our agreement?""Which part?" Amora kept her eyes on the rainbow bridge, her fingers tapping against her hip, "The part where you wanted me to cause the attack on Vanaheim or the part where you threw out Odin to Midgard? You are a fool, Loki."Odin's deep tone suddenly changed to Loki's smooth voice, "Do not try to play games, Amora. You do remember you are in my debt." He grabbed her face tightly in his hands, forcing her to look at him."As I recall, I was out of your debt when I brought you back on Svartalfheim and helped you cast out Odin." Amora yanked her face back and adjusted her green headdress, "You are technically in my debt now, Loki.""Do not try to get yourself out of this one, Enchantress. I still require your assistance with getting rid of Thor. I'm sure with your black heart that wouldn't be a problem." Loki still stayed in Odin's form as he pointed his staff towards Amora. "I already know you told Thor about Odin. Now, give me a reason why I shouldn't just destroy you now.""It won't be long til all of Asgard finds out that the real Allfather is gone. What of Thor? He will be out searching for Odin, leaving you as the only heir to the throne of Asgard." Amora walked over to him, getting inches away from his face, "I know what I am doing, Loki.""Then once Thor gets to Midgard I want you to see that he fails and that his super friends do not interfere." He brushed passed her as he walked back into the palace, leaving Amora alone on the balcony again. She rolled her eyes in annoyance and started to head back into the palace just as she felt a huge force hold her up against the wall."Where is he?" Thor demanded, holding Amora's shoulder against the wall, "Tell me, Amora!""Midgard, of course." Amora smirked and placed her hand over his, lifting it off her bare shoulder, "I do not know where exactly he is on Midgard, but it should not be hard for the God of Thunder to figure out." Amora patted his armored chest and started to walk away before feeling him yank her back."Don't you lie to me, Amora!" Thor shook her shoulder a little, causing Amora to use all her might to push him back. "There is still good in you, Amora. I know there is and with your help-.""I could torture you, son of Odin!" She hissed, pointing her finger at him, "I could do terrible things to you, but instead I tell you where your father is. Perhaps you should take your pain out on Loki." Amora snapped her fingers and vanished out of Thor's sight, reappearing in her headquarters. She took off her headdress and ran her fingers through her hair to get any tangles out. Amora poured herself a glass of mead before taking a seat in her lounge chair.Amora rested her head back, feeling herself get torn between whether she should give in and help Thor find Odin or if she should continue helping Loki with his plans. She took another sip of mead as she remembered her time being on Midgard, which instantly triggered anger inside her. She felt a resentment towards the mortals and had no interest in making bonds with them after what happened over 70 years ago. Amora never moved on from her loss. When Amora learned about the Avengers and who the team consisted of, she instantly hated them and slowly planned a way to tear them apart.Loki, in his natural form, barged in her room, wiping blood away from his nose as he clearly got punched by his brother, "He is heading to Midgard to retrieve Odin. We must act now, Enchantress.""It is good to see you as YOU again," she chuckled softly and took another sip of her mead, "I have no desire going to Midgard.""Just listen!" Loki paced around her room as Amora lounged in her chair, pouring some more mead into her glass, "I am to stop Thor from retrieving Odin since I know where the powerless old man is hiding. I need you to get rid of the Avengers so that they do not interfere with my plans.""Didn't they already stop you by smashing you into the ground?" Amora laughed at the memory, "What makes you think I can stop them?" Amora crossed one leg over the other, feeling the mead start to kick in."Because you are very clever. I need you to keep them preoccupied by all means." Loki grabbed her drink out of her hand and chugged it down, "Besides, didn't you say you wanted get your revenge on Captain America?""Not so much revenge, but a form of repayment for what happened in the past." Amora's jaw tightened, "He couldn't save him. He couldn't save his best friend. Bullshit." She thought to herself before taking her glass back."I take it something happened when you were gone for so many years...I really don't care," Loki grabbed her by the neck and yanked her face towards him, "I want them out of sight, you hear?""Loud and clear, but what of the green monster?" Amora pushed herself back away from Loki and got up from her lounge chair, placing her headdress back on."That is taken care of already," Loki stormed out of the room, leaving Amora alone in her thoughts again. She immediately started planning what she could do to keep the Avenger's off of Thor's tracks. Amora smirked to herself and left her room."Executioner!" Amora called down the corridor. A large, muscular, figure came out of the shadows behind the columns, holding a large axe over his shoulder."What is it, my lady?" His voice was low and deep. Amora twirled a strand of hair around her fingers, motioning him to walk with her."We are about to have some fun, my pet." As they walked down the corridor Amora moved her hands in a rhythmic motion, causing green energy to swirl around them and teleport them to Midgard where they would begin their mission.PARIS, FRANCEThe Enchantress looked down at the busy streets of Paris, planning on what she could do to lure the Avengers in. She found herself starting to get distracted with memories of the past, the last thing she needed before planning a surprise attack on the city of Paris."Skurge, my pet, do you know why I brought you here?" Amora stood on the edge of the building's roof, kicking a few rocks off of it with her heel."No, my lady. I do not." The Executioner approached her side and placed the axe on his back, "My guess is we are going to send chaos, yes?""More than that! We are going to have fun with these so-called Avengers." She tapped a finger to her chin as a smile appeared on her gorgeous face, "I know..." She brought her hand out in front of her, her palm facing down at the street. The Enchantress started mumbling some words in the Norse language when the ground below them started to shake. Civilians looked around and one by one started to panic. Amora focused harder before throwing her arm up, bringing up a whole street block. Goblins and trolls emerged from where the street was and started to destroy the streets of Paris."Now we wait," Amora placed her hands on her hips and tapped her heel to the ground as she watched the creatures terrorize the streets. She heard the screams of the civilians below and cars crash into each other. Havoc was indeed released."And if they do not come?" Skurge brought his axe of his back and held it tightly in his hands. "What if they do not come and the God of Thunder comes instead?""They will. If not, then we try harder. If we end up with Thor then I send them back to where they came from and we try again in a different location. I doubt we will be seeing the God of Thunder anytime soon." Amora felt herself start to get impatient as she watched the Paris police arrive and try to take on the creatures.Amora was about to raise her hand again for a different spell when she heard a loud jet fly over her head. She felt her heart beat faster as she lowered down her hand, "They are here. Executioner, go have some fun." Amora pointed to the ground, in which the Executioner nodded and jumped down the 10 story building, landing right on his feet. She teleported off the building and appeared a few blocks away where she could watch all the chaos unfold right in front of her."A pretty lady, watching the all the panic, who is not even panicking?!" Amora quickly turned around feeling an electrical bolt hit her right in the chest. She yelled and fell to the ground, her trembling hand felt an arrow on her chest that was sending electric bolts through her. She yanked it off and slowly got up."You are going to be really sorry you did that." Amora groaned and held up an energy shield to block more arrows, "I take it you are Hawkeye, or as Thor calls you 'Clint.' He talked very highly of you Avengers." Amora shot up her arm, causing green energy to bring up the street and knock Clint over."Another Asgardian? Shit." Hawkeye flipped himself back up and shot another arrow at Amora, which she blocked with another energy shield. "I can do this all day, but I would hate for the person behind you to attack you."Amora quickly turned around and saw a man with mechanical wings dive in quickly, kicking her to the ground, and causing her headdress to fall off. Her hands curled into fists as she got up and disappeared. Amora reappeared inches away from the man that kicked her and gave him a quick kiss which trapped him in her spell. His expression changed as her spell kicked in."Sam!" Clink yelled as he aimed another arrow to Amora's back."Kill him!" Amora hissed into Sam's ear."Anything for you, Enchantress." Sam jumped and attacked Clint, bringing out his guns to shoot. The two tossed around violently on the ground, aiming guns and arrows at each other. Amora chuckled to herself and vanished from the sight, knowing that was taken care of.Amora saw Skurge take on a few other new faces: a man that was dressed like a big cat and another man that was growing and shrinking. She didn't want to get her hands dirty in that fight. She looked around, pleased with all the chaos she has caused. The trolls and giants were attacking buildings, as citizens hide inside them, while the Avengers were fighting the creatures, each other, and Skurge.Amora saw a few figures run into an underground garage. She did not want anyone getting away that easily. She walked cautiously to the garage, fearing another surprise attack. Once she crept into the entrance of the garage, she could hear some voices echo in the distance."He is not stable!" One voice yelled."We have to get this situation under control," a familiar voice said, "Hold him here until I get back and if you have to lock him down then do it. We can't risk anything. Call me if anything happens.""All of us can't hold him, especially now that he has is arm back," The voice responded."Like I said, lock him down if anything happens, agent.""Yes, sir." The voice said in a worried tone.Amora got in a defensive stance as the familiar figure came out of the of the dark, "Captain America," she clenched her hand in a fist, feeling all the memories come back. She didn't want them to come now, she had to focus. "It has been far too long.""Amora?!" Steve looked at her with a look of shock on his face. "No! This can't be! Are you behind all this?""Perhaps. Nothing wrong with that, Captain." Amora looked at him like prey and noticed he didn't have his signature shield with him."Amora, this isn't you. You can stop this," Steve brought up his hands to show he meant no harm as he walked up to her, "I need to tell you something about Bucky.""Shut up!" Amora screamed at the top of her lungs and shot a green bolt of energy at him, causing him to crash into the wall."I am not going to fight you Amora!" Steve stumbled to get up, "If you will just list-" Amora threw another bolt of energy at him, sending him to the ground. She felt her hands trembling with rage as she walked up to him, the green energy surrounding her hands."I will never listen to you!" She fought back tears as she brought her hand over his face when suddenly she heard screams from down the garage. Steve grabbed her ankle and pulled her foot towards him, sending her down to the floor.Amora was about to kick him in the face when she saw him quickly get up and run over to where the screams came from. She heard gunfire and walls crumbling on the other side. "Shit," she thought as she got up ran down deeper into the garage, She ran as fast as she could when suddenly she felt a cold metal touch her neck and toss her against the concrete wall. Amora felt pain in her head and body as she hit the wall and then the ground. Amora squinted her eyes, trying to get her blurry vision back to normal as her head throbbed. She watched the black combat boots approach her and then felt the cold metal tighten around her neck again, picking her up easily and pinning her to the wall.She gasped for air as the metal tightened, closing up her airways quickly. Amora felt herself panic as she felt they were strong, metal, fingers crushing her neck. She tried to pry them off, but could not find the strength to do it. Whoever this was, was too strong for her. She opened her eyes and immediately felt her heart drop as she looked the man right in his cold, blue, eyes."J-James?!" ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "James! Please!" Amora felt herself getting more weak and lightheaded as his metallic fingers closed into her throat. She looked into his eyes to try to find some hope that he remembered her, but all she saw was darkness and rage. Amora gasped for air, giving up on prying his fingers off her. He was too strong for her and she was losing more focus."Please..." She choked out before he brought her head slightly forward and banged it against the wall, instantly knocking her out.He stood over her and examined her unconscious body, pushing her over with his boot. Bucky drew out his gun and aimed it at her chest, noticing a gold necklace that was hanging around her neck with strange markings on it. He knelt beside her and brought the long chain up to his face so he could examine. His human fingers brushed over the small pendent, instantly remembering the rune markings translation that was engraved on it."I will love you, forever and always." Bucky muttered as he read the words, not understanding who this woman was and why she was wearing this pendent. After a few moments of looking at the pendent, Bucky felt a sharp pain hit his head. He stumbled back, dropping his gun, as his head spun and ached."Buck!" Steve ran in and saw the unconscious Amora laying flat on her back, "What happened?""Steve?" Bucky groaned as he held his hands to his head, "I think I blacked out...I don't know. I think I hurt someone." Bucky looked at Steve and noticed Steve was looking in the other direction at the woman laying on the floor. Bucky instantly remembered what happened and who it was he had strangled."Amora..." Bucky looked at her unconscious body and walked cautiously over to her, a look of panic on his face. Steve held out his arm in front of Bucky to keep him from getting any closer to her. Bucky shook his head with a look of distraught on his face as he feel to his knees, "No! Oh god, no!""She is still breathing, Buck." Steve placed his arm on Bucky's shoulder, still standing a barrier between the two. "We need to take her in. She is dangerous.""So am I.."Hours later, Amora slowly awoke to find herself placed in a some sort of cell. Her head spun and her throat ached in pain from being nearly strangled to death. She looked down and noticed her green dress and black and green tights were replaced by a pair of grey sweatpants and a white tank top. She examined the white walls and cold metallic floor that she woke up on. Amora placed her hand on her neck and started to panic as she felt her necklace was gone and replaced with a small device collar that was placed around her neck. She stood up, her bare feet getting cold from the ground, and focused her energy on disappearing. As soon as she felt her power surge through her, she felt an electric shock run down her body. Amora fell to the floor, in pain, screaming and crying from the electrical shock. She placed her hand on the collar and realized that she wasn't going anywhere.The large door that held her in that cell opened and Steve Rogers walked in with a large file in his hands, "That device was made by Dr. Banner and Tony Stark, with the help of Thor. They made it incase Loki ever came back and tried to use his powers to escape." He placed the folder on the small mattress that was placed across the room. "Amora, you need to listen to me.""You asshole!" She screamed, feeling her body still tremble from the shock, "How long, Rogers?""I found out about 3 years ago," Steve took a seat in a small fold up chair in the corner, "All the information you need is in that file."Amora slowly sat up and scooted to the corner, holding her legs close to her chest, shaking her head from side to side. "This can't be. No! I don't believe this.""Just read the file, Amora." Steve got up and started heading towards the door."And if I do, will you let me go?""You are not going anywhere for awhile, Amora. You do realize what you have done, don't you?" Steve looked at her with a look of disappointment."Oh, I realize what I done and regret nothing," Amora chuckled and rested her head back in the corner, "Where are we anyways? Can you tell me that, Captain?""Wakanda." Steve left and she heard the large metal door lock multiple times. Amora shrugged her shoulders and crawled on to the small mattress where Steve had laid down a file with all the answers Amora was looking for."File: The Winter Soldier." Amora read out loud and opened the file up to find photos and documents that dated back to 1945. She felt her stomach turn as she read the reports on the brainwashing and all the assassinations that took place all through out the years. Amora wiped a few tears as she looked through some photo's of Bucky in a cryogenic sleep, each with different dates. When she got to the end of the file she saw a few photos that were dated in 1943. She took a closer look and noticed that someone took pictures of her and Bucky as they walked home from their last double date. One of the pictures showed her transforming back into her normal self, and the next was of Bucky kissing her. The last picture she saw was of them kissing right before Bucky got in the taxi."He was a target." She busted out in tears, and felt instant guilt for she felt responsible that all of this had happen to Bucky. Amora pulled her legs tightly to her chest and cried in her knees."It was never your fault." She heard a voice say at the door, "Trust me."Amora looked up and saw Bucky standing in the doorway. He sort of looked the same as she last saw him. Except he was more muscular, his hair went down to his shoulders, and he started growing out his facial hair, and of course, the arm wasn't there when she last saw him."I'm sorry.." Amora cried out, burying her face in her knees, "You didn't deserve any of that, James. You of all people didn't deserve this.""72 years and you still look as beautiful as I last saw you," Bucky took a seat over in the fold up chair that was across the room, a jacket and glove hid his metal arm from her sight. "Amora, I never meant to hurt you. I asked them to put me back to sleep until they could find a cure for this brainwashing. I was woken up and started to experience these black outs." Bucky looked down at his hands and shook his head, his hair hanging over his face."You are the one that killed Howard Stark. I remember you," Amora looked down at the file again, feeling more tears form in her eyes, "I fought you.""I have killed more people than Howard Stark," Bucky took his human hand up to his face and pushed back his hair, "The man you fell in love with died 72 years ago, Amora.""No," she shook her head and got to her feet, "The man I fell in love with is sitting right in front of me!""How do you think we can be together again, Amora?" Bucky rose from the chair, but didn't move, "We have both done terrible things and I am not out of the clear yet for everything that I have done. It would be dangerous if we got back together.""72 years and the first thing you tell me is how we can never be together again." Amora turned her back to him and sat back down on the mattress, "James...why?"Amora, you think I want this? You think I want to be away from you. I am practically restraining myself right now not to just pick you up and hold you in my arms. We are not safe together." Bucky's voice was sympathetic and calm, "Please look at me."Amora shook her head and buried her head back in her knees. She heard him sigh and walk out, hearing all the locks click. She gave out a loud cry and started hitting her fists on the mattress. She heard a small beep come from the collar just before it gave her another shock. Amora trembled on the mattress as tears and screams poured down her face, the collar sending repeated shocks down her body.A few hours later, Amora recovered from the shocks and sat in the middle of the room, her head hanging low. She heard the door unlock and heard someone come into her cell. She kept her head down low, as the stranger took a seat in the chair."The Enchantress."Amora heard a pen click and scribbling on some paper. "I am here to get an evaluation on you. First off, where are you from?""Doesn't matter," she muttered as she looked up to the man in a black suit and black tie. "Why are you here?""You are a prisoner here in Wakanda. I need information for our records," the man took off his glasses and placed them in his suit pocket, "Why did you attack Paris, France?""I said," she slowly rose and walked over to the man, "It doesn't fucking matter!"The man stood up and tried to tase her, but Amora got ahold of his arm and snapped it. The man gave out a cry and Amora darted out the unlocked door and down the hallway."Code Blue. Code Blue," the overhead intercom repeated. Amora heard footsteps behind her as she turned down another hallway. She didn't know where she was going, but she had to make an escape. She saw an open door ahead of her and started running towards it at full speed. Steve and Bucky appeared in the doorway, looking like they were ready for battle, which made Amora come to a complete stop."Amora.." Steve held his hand out to her, "Don't do this. They will hurt you if you escape.""Please, don't do this." Bucky gave her a pleading look, "He is right, Amora."Amora shook her head and took a few steps back, "I'm sorry," she said to Bucky, who pushed Steve aside to get to her.Amora ran in the other direction, hearing Steve and Bucky run close behind her. She kept running towards the glass window and curled her body into a ball, shattering the window and jumping right through it. Amora fell about four stories, her body hitting multiple tree branches before she finally hit the ground. She gave out a loud cry, feeling her body throb in pain. She felt her side and immediately felt warmth and wetness. Amora felt around until she felt the long piece of glass that impaled her side. Amora yanked it out, screaming in pain. She placed her hand on her side and slowly rose, her ankle weak and swollen. Amora started limping away from the large building and into a jungle, until she heard vehicles come from behind her. She ran as fast as she could, her side bleeding and her ankle throbbing in pain. She could feel her body start to try to heal itself when suddenly she heard the small beep again and felt a shock run down her spine. Her body jolted from the shock, but she kept running her way through the jungle as fast as she could, her legs getting warm from all the running. She ran until suddenly the jungle ended and she saw buildings up ahead.Amora ran into the town, confused as to where she was. She gripped her side tightly and started limping. Immediately she tried to think of ways to get back to Asgard, but she knew she was powerless for as long as she had this device around her neck. Amora looked down at her side and saw her white tank covered in blood. She limped over to a small market place that sold food and clothes to look for anything she could wrap around her stomach and foot. She noticed eyes on her as she limped into the market, but she dared not look back at them. Amora knew it would be anytime now that the vehicles would arrive and try to take her back to wherever it was that they were holding her. She found a few shirts that the market was selling and wrapped one of them around her waist, over the wound, and the other around her ankle."You are going to pay for those, right?" A man said as she grabbed a scarf and covered her blond hair underneath it and wrapping it around her neck to hide the collar, "And that too!"Amora limped towards the man and pushed him to the ground, "I don't intend to."She grabbed a small bookshelf that was right beside them and pushed it down so it would land on the man's legs so he couldn't stop her. Amora grabbed a pair of boots and a jacket on her way out and hid behind the market place. She placed the boots on her torn up feet and swollen ankle and caught her breath before heading out into the streets again. Amora felt her side throb in pain as she got up and limped out. She didn't have time to examine her whole body, but she knew she had more cuts and bruises. She tried her best to walk normal to blend it, but it was too much and as long as that device was around her neck, her body couldn't heal itself.As she slowly walked down she noticed black cars driving up ahead. Amora lowered her head and pushed herself further into the crowd so she would be undetected. Suddenly she heard the collar make a different kind of beeping and saw a few men get out of the car and approach her."We found her!"Amora turned around and started running as fast as she could. They planted a tracker into the collar and knew exactly where she was. She picked up the pace and shoved people out of her way as she tried to yank off the collar. As Amora did a quick turn down an alley way she heard a gun bullet hit the wall a few inches from her head. Amora started to feel dizzy and hid behind a dumpster. She panted as she unzipped the jacket and noticed she had lost a lot of blood. Amora grabbed her side tightly as she heard the men come up from behind the dumpster."We know you are there. Surrender now...or else."Amora tried to calm down her heartrate and breathing as she felt the men get closer, "This is it," she thought to herself, when suddenly she heard two loud gun shots and heard two large thuds on the ground. Amora peaked around the dumpster and saw the two men lying on the ground, blood spreading around them. Amora glanced around up and down to see where the gun shots came from. She couldn't see anything. Slowly, she got up and limped away from the scene, feeling herself get lightheaded."I need to rest," She mumbled to herself as she slid down onto the ground. She took off the jacket and pressed both her hands to her side and pushed in, trying to stop the bleeding."Ahhh!" She felt another sharp pain in her side as she pushed in, "There is still glass lodged in. Damn." She gulped and raised her shirt, exposing the wound. "Oh gods," She looked at the bloody laceration and lowered her shirt down. She couldn't see the glass which meant it had to be underneath her skin. Amora eyes grew heavy as she fought to stay awake and to slow down the bleeding. Her vision grew blurry and she felt herself start to get more dizzy."Amora?!" She heard a muffled voice call her name as she started to close her eyes."Amora is sleepy," she mumbled to herself, feeling a warm hand touch her face. Amora slowly opened her eyes to first see a metal arm and then Bucky kneeling in front of her, holding a huge rifle in his metallic hand. "James? Are you here to take me in?" Amora closed her eyes again, feeling his hand support her neck."No, I'm getting you out of here." Bucky placed the rifle on his back and picked her up bridal style, holding her close to his chest. Amora felt herself growing more and more sleepy as Bucky carried her away, out of sight.Amora awoke to her own scream as she felt a deep burning in her side. She felt a heavy pressure push into her as she looked around frantically. She was laying on top of a table, her head placed under her jacket."Got that out." Bucky placed the piece of glass beside her and grabbed a needle and thread from a first aid package, "I found this empty house while carrying you. While you were passed out I managed to get a first aid kit and the tracker off the collar.""How in the world.." Amora rubbed her head, still feeling lightheaded, "I could of died and you left to get a first aid kit?""There are other houses around. It was pretty easy." Bucky pinched the opened wound together with his human hand and stuck the needle in her skin. Amora squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain of the stitches. He took his time stitching her up to make sure the wound was fully closed and not infected. "You should be good to go. The collar will be tricky, but I think I can get it off you."Amora sat up in pain, her legs hanging off the table. She noticed he had bandaged her foot as well. "James, you didn't have to do this. You didn't have to help me. Thank you."Amora turned to him, noticing him loading up a few guns. She turned her head back around and rubbed her arm, not wanting to make things awkward between them. she slowly got off the table and limped her away into the next room where there was a small, dusty, couch and another table."Amora," he said quietly, putting down his guns, noticing her leaving the room. "Can we talk?""About what?" Amora took a seat on the couch, causing the dust to swirl around her, "You said everything you wanted to say back when I was in that cell.""No, I didn't." Bucky slowly walked into the room and took a seat by her on the couch. He kept a distance between her, not wanting to snap and hurt her. "After I said what I said, I realized I made the biggest mistake.""You are right though, James." Amora lowered her head, "We are both too dangerous.""No. I can't lose you again." He knelt forward and rested his arms on his knees. "But you don't understand." Bucky lowered his head, pressing his thumbs together, "I am not who I used to be, Amora. I am a weapon now."Amora slowly scooted over to him and placed her delicate hand on his face, feeling his stubble beneath her finger tips. "James, you are not a weapon. You are still the man I love. If I stay then we are both screwed. I am not putting you in this situation."Bucky rose up and walked over to the side of the room, leaving Amora's hand touching nothing but air. "As much as I want you, I don't want to hurt you or put you in danger with me. I already hurt you twice," Bucky looked down at his metallic hand and clenched it into a fist."I never stopped.." Amora rose from her seat and took a few steps towards him."Never stopped what?" Bucky relaxed his clenched fist and looked at her with a curious expression."I never stopped missing you...thinking about you," Amora teared up and looked down, feeling embarrassed that she was starting to cry again, "I never stopped loving you. Never, not once."She felt herself getting more emotional as memories of them played in her head. She wiped a few tears and started heading out of the room, feeling a warm hand grab her arm. Amora looked up at Bucky and noticed that he was fighting back his emotions too. He kept his metal arm to his side and brought up his human hand to stroke her cheek. The feeling of his touch made Amora melt and wrap her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. She felt both of his arms wrap protectively around her, bringing her in closer to his warm body."It's okay," he whispered, placing a kiss on top of her head, his metallic thumb gently rubbing her back over her shirt.She felt his finger gently tuck underneath her chin and bring her head up. She looked in his blue eyes again and saw that there was life in them this time and not darkness. He leaned his head down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, holding it there for a few long moments before slowly pulling back."I never stopped loving you too, sweetheart." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Amora awoke the next morning with an aching pain in her neck. She noticed that she must of fallen asleep on the couch. She rubbed her neck, feeling the irritation from the collar rub against her skin. She sat up, putting her weight on one foot, slightly putting pressure on her toes that were on the same foot as her twisted ankle. Amora slowly limped to a window to get a better look outside. There were other homes around, but they were clearly isolated in the desert.She started to limp her way around the house, in hopes of finding a bathroom so she could examine her wounds and see how badly she looked. Amora found a small bathroom that was behind the kitchen where Bucky treated her laceration. She closed the door and felt like shrieking when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her face and arms were cut up from when she jumped out of the building. Her hair was in tangles, and her clothes were still bloody from her wounds. Amora lifted her shirt to examine the stitches. Her eyebrows raised, pleased with how well he actually stitched her up. All Amora needed to do was to get this shock collar off of her so that her body could heal quickly.As she left the bathroom she noticed that the house was too quiet. She looked around in hopes to see Bucky somewhere, but she had the feeling he was gone. Amora gently smacked her cheeks with her hands, trying to figure out if everything was just a bad dream or if this was actually reality. She limped around some more, feeling her ankle cry in pain. She flinched as she took another step, applying pressure to her foot. Amora lifted her foot up and hopped over to the counter where Bucky placed the first aid kit he stole. Surprisingly, she found a single rubber band placed in it, which is exactly what she was looking for. Amora combed her fingers through her tangled hair, squinting at some of the pain from the knots. when she felt the majority of the knots out, she braided her long hair and used the rubber band to tie it back."I don't think I have ever seen your hair braided."Amora jumped, gripping the counter to not lose her balance. She turned her head to see Bucky leaning in the doorway. "You scared me!" She pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "Do you assassin's always sneak up on people?""It's a bad habit," Bucky shrugged and walked over to the table, placing a gun on top of it.Amora blinked a few times, "Are you going to use that?" She pointed to the weapon and looked up at him with a bit of worry on her face."Maybe later if I have to." Bucky took a seat and placed his feet on the table, leaning back in the chair. She noticed he had changed into a black t-shirt but kept on his black pants with knee pads, along with a knife holster around his thigh, and black combat boots. She kept staring at his left arm, examining all the details from his shoulder down to his finger tips."I'll tell you about the arm if you tell me why you sent creatures to attack Paris." Bucky looked down at his left arm, "When I fell from that train, I lost the majority of my arm. Hydra found me and removed the rest of it, replacing it with this," He held up his arm in front of him, moving his wrist back and forth, "The original arm was blasted off me, this one is a duplicate of the one I lost. Higher quality and much stronger than the last one." He placed his hand in his lap and looked up at Amora to find her still staring at it, "Your turn...no lying now. I was trained to spot out a liar."Amora noticed herself staring at his arm for two long and snapped herself out of it. "Oh gods," she rubbed her face, "You really don't want to know, James.""I haven't seen you in 72 years and when I do you are sending chaos all over. What the fuck?" Bucky felt himself getting frustrated and Amora could easily see that. She hopped on to the counter and fiddled her fingers together, anticipating a negative response from him once she was done with her explanation."After I found out that you died I lost it," she hung her head low, keeping focus on her fingers, "I don't know what happened...I was so enraged. I remember screaming and crying, feeling my power get out of control." Amora bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes, "I became an apprentice to Karnilla, the Norn Queen, for over forty years. She helped my powers grow as well as teach me spells and alchemy. After being fed up with her, I started to disobey and she started to punish me. After years of that I finally found it in me to walk away. I thought that would help me move on and recover from losing you, but it did the complete opposite. I felt myself become more empty and cynical towards everything." Amora brought up her head, looking straight ahead. She could feel his eyes on her, but couldn't find it in her to look at him as she told him all this information."The attack here was one of many attacks I have caused throughout the years. Though I really had no choice but to cause this one. Loki didn't want the Avengers to interfere between him and Thor, I guess." She took a deep breath in and sighed out, "Now you know.""Shit," Bucky muttered, pushing his hair back from his face, "Do you still feel that way now?""I-I do not know," she shook her head, covering her face in her hands, "I am feeling things I haven't felt in years, and then I am feeling confused on what to do. If I betray Loki in this, then I am dead. I don't expect you to understand." Amora kept her head low in her hands, hearing Bucky move around."Hey.."Amora looked up to see him standing inches away from her face, his hands gripping the edge of the counter, trapping her between his arms. "I can't take back what I did, James.""I'm not asking you to take back what you did," he gave her a soft, reassuring, smile, "I'm asking what are you going to do next because I can guarantee you that the Avengers will not be going after Thor. There is a lot of tension going on that I will explain to you later. First, let me get that collar off you."Amora frowned as he walked away into the other room. She wanted to be close to him and felt comforted by him, but she didn't know if he was still as affectionate as he was 72 years ago. Yesterday he held her and kissed her, but Amora wanted more than that. He came back into the room, holding a long piece of cloth in his hands."Do you trust me?" He raised his eyebrows as he approached her, examining the collar on her neck. Amora nodded her head, tilting her head to the side so he could get a better look. "If this doesn't work then I don't know what will. The device doesn't seem to made of vibranium, so we should be okay." He held up the cloth and placed it around her eyes, tying it in the back of her head."What are you doing?!" Amora jumped a little when he placed the cloth over her eyes, "This isn't funny, James!""I told you, I'm going to get that collar off your neck. Now, how many fingers am I holding up?"Amora moved her hand around, trying to feel for a hand. "I don't know! Why am I blindfolded?" She started moving her head around, feeling a small panic rise in her, "James, I don't like knowing what's not going to happen next.""Relax," he placed his human hand under her chin, focusing her head to look straight head. "Whatever you do, don't move, okay?" He pulled her braid over the opposite shoulder so that nothing was in the way of the small device. Amora heard his footsteps walk away for a brief moment and come back slowly. She held her hands tightly together, thinking he was going to stab something into the device."You ready?" His voice was across the room now. Amora started panicking, wondering why he was across the room. She heard a click and immediately regretted letting him do this."James! Sto-" BANG..BANG. In a sudden instant, Amora felt something graze past her neck, feeling a relief of pressure leave. The noise sent her falling off the counter and onto the floor, "Fucking Hel!" She panicked and removed the cloth to see him reloading a pistol, "You shot me?!""I shot the device. It's still there, but I can see it's broken and damaged. You okay?"Amora shook her head no and felt the damaged device on her neck. She gently pulled it away from her, feeling a spike leave the side of her neck. Amora yanked off the collar and rubbed her sore neck, feeling the spot where the spike came out of."That's gonna leave a mark." She flinched slightly as she felt the tender spot on her neck and checked her fingers to see if there was any blood on them, which there was just a little. Bucky knelt down beside her and examined her neck, making sure he didn't accidently hit her with a bullet. Amora placed her hand on his leg, noticing him flinch a little from her touch."Sorry," She brought her hand back, "Thank you for getting it off me." Amora gave him a soft smile before getting up off the floor. She felt sad that he would flinch at her touch, but she had to understand everything he went through these past seven decades. All the abuse and brainwashing, she kept forgetting that he was no longer the same Bucky that she remembered him as."No.." he grabbed her hand with his human one and slowly rose up, "I just..don't want to hurt you. That's all..""You won't." Amora brushed a few strands of his hair behind his ear, her thumb tracing his jawline. She placed her other hand over his metal arm, feeling the cold metal hit her palm and fingertips."I do like the long hair and stubble on you," she smiled, and brought her arms up over his neck, pressing her lips against his. She could feel his heart beating quickly through his chest as she felt his hands start to roam her body, dodging the stitches. Amora jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling his arms support her. He deepened the kiss and started walking towards the counter, placing Amora on top of it.Amora's legs tightened around his waist, begging him to just take her now. She felt his metal hand gently trace her spine, under her shirt, on her bare back, giving her goosebumps by the cool touch. She let out a soft moan as their tongues touched, her hands frantically trying her remove her pants. She felt his human hand grab onto her breast and give a squeeze, making her moan even louder. Amora managed to unzip his pants as she felt him tease her nipple under the sports bra she had on. She felt his metallic hand trace down her spine, all the way down her to her inner thigh, sending her into a complete frenzy. He moved his lips to her jawbone as his metallic fingers trailed closer to her opening.Amora held his head to her face as she felt a cool finger enter her. She moaned in his ear, her nails digging into his neck and scalp. His lips moved back to hers, as he pushed another finger in her. Amora moaned louder against his lips, not realizing how tight she had gotten. Bucky slowly turned his fingers and moved them in and out and a slow pace. Amora playfully bit his bottom lip, her free hand grabbing his hard erection. Hearing him moan made her even more turned on. His metallic arm pulled out of her and wrapped around her back tightly as his other hand guided himself into her. Amora's knees buckled against him as he pushed himself in and out of her, expanding her out.She cried in pleasure, gripping on to the counter with one hand as the other hung tightly on to his neck. He pressed his lips to hers, moaning deeply, as he quickened his pace, his arms tightening around her small waist. Amora panted, taking in all the sensations that he was giving her that she hadn't felt in so many years. He gently sucked her bottom lip as he kept his hips at a steady pace, holding back all his strength and power. Amora gasped and gave out a cry as she released her orgasm, her lips tightening against his. Bucky slowed down the pace and thrusted deep inside her, his hands gripping on to her tightly until he came.He pressed his sweaty forehead against hers and kissed the tip of her nose, "Now that definitely hasn't changed."Amora chuckled softly, trying to slow down her breathing and heartrate, "No, no it has not."Later that night Amora laid curled up on the small sofa, feeling her body start to heal. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the arm rest, hearing Bucky move around the other room."We have to leave in the morning." He called from the doorway, "We can't stay hiding here in forever."Amora opened her eyes and placed her arm under her head, "You don't have to come with me. I need to figure out what I'm going to do. If I don't complete my task-""Then what?" Bucky crossed his arms and walked in the room, his eyebrows furrowed together, "Amora, you don't have to do this. You can change for the better.""It's too late for that," she closed her eyes and turned on her other side, facing the couch. She felt him take a seat right behind her, his side pressing into hers. Clearly, the couch wasn't big enough for the both of them."Then we will figure something out." She felt his hand start to stroke her hair, instantly soothing her. "I told you I'm not going to lose you again, sweetheart.""What about Steve and your superhero team?" Amora closed her eyes as he continued to stroke her hair with his fingers, "You just can't up and leave Wakanda to watch me deal with my problems.""We already left Wakanda," he stopped stroking her hair, "When you escaped, you must of ran miles. When I found you, I took out those two men that were looking for you and carried to the closest town We are actually in Omorate.." He bent forward and placed a soft kiss on her temple, "Don't worry about Steve and the others. If I didn't up and leave with you then that would mean I didn't love you, darling."Amora smiled and buried her face in her arm to hide her blushing, "I love you too. Do you remember what you told me before you left to go to the Alps?""Yes," He placed another kiss on her temple, leaving his lips pressed there for a few moments, "I am still not telling you what that surprise was.""What?" Amora turned her head and looked at him with disappointment in her eyes, "Why not?""How about I tell you why in the morning? You need your rest. We have a lot ground to cover tomorrow." He pressed a soft kiss to her lips before getting up and heading back into the other room. Amora yawned and closed her eyes again, feeling a smile spread on her lips. Before she drifted off she thought of an idea. An idea that would turn the tables and would finally give her a chance to get back at Loki. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The night was dark and the and the temperature started to cool down. Amora laid curled up on the small couch, her knees pressed tightly to her chest. She opened her eyes to find that she was surrounded by complete darkness. Amora searched around, in hopes to see a light of some sort, but there was nothing. "This has to be a dream," she thought as she pinched her arm, still realizing she was surrounded by darkness."You had one job, Enchantress."Amora turned her head in the direction that the voice was coming from and saw Loki standing in an all black suit, his hair slicked back behind his ears. "I did my job, Loki. I kept your enemies busy so that you could have your fun with Thor.""Then explain to me why Thor has a new hero friend helping him?!" Loki slowly approached her as Amora took a few steps back, feeling him about to pounce."How would I know that Thor would have someone to aid him? I done my part of the deal, Loki." Amora turned away, feeling his hand wrap tightly around her wrist, crushing it. Amora flinched and tried to pull away, only making him grip tighter."We have a bigger problem on our hands, Enchantress. They are coming closer to finding Odin!" His other hand wrapped tightly around her neck, pulling her close to his face, "Stick to the plan or else your lover gets hurt."Amora eyes widened, trying to fight the worried expression that came across her face, "Fine!" She yanked her arm down, releasing his hold off her wrist, which now ached in pain. Though she could care less about Thor's super friends, she did not want to get Bucky stuck in this. She would never forgive herself if something terrible happened to him because of her disobeying orders."Good. You will be summoned when I require your assistance." He gave her a mischievous smile and pushed her back, releasing his hand off her neck.Amora awoke in a panic, covered in her own sweat. She rubbed her wrist, noticing there weren't any markings to be found. She swung her legs on to the ground and rubbed her tired, heavy, eyes. Amora had to think of a new plan fast if she wanted to keep Bucky out of her mess. All she had to do was to keep the focus on her so the Avengers wouldn't suspect anything else. Amora rose off the couch and put on her boots, realizing she had no intentions of falling back asleep."Can't sleep?"Amora leaned forward to get a glimpse into the other room, "How are you still awake?" Amora slowly walked over to where Bucky was sitting, his legs and feet placed on top of the table again."Eh, I don't really sleep much or even bother getting good sleep," Bucky rubbed the side of his face, cracking his neck to the side. He looked exhausted and she could tell he was fighting sleep. "You, on the other hand. Why are you up?"Amora yawned and leaned her back against the wall, noticing herself rubbing her eyes again to keep them open, "Bad dream. I'll be alright, I just need to wake up some.""Amora," Bucky took his feet off the table and planted them to the floor, "It's 3am. You don't need to wake up, you need to go back to sleep."Amora shrugged her shoulders, knowing not to argue with him, "Whatever you say," she walked up to him and plopped herself down on his lap, scooting her butt around to get herself comfy."What are you doing?" Bucky leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest, "Do I look like a bed, doll?" He couldn't help but chuckle when he noticed a cheesy smile on her tired face."Yes, you do!" Amora pushed his arms to the side and rested her head on his chest, "Nice and comfy!""Don't get too comfy now," Bucky rested his chin on top of her head, wrapping his arms tightly around her to keep her situation on his lap. Amora smiled, nuzzling her head against his large chest, feeling his body heat radiate onto hers. She felt his arms press her body closer to his, his hand gently caressing her back, making her feel even more tired and comfortable. Amora tried to fight to stay awake and enjoy the moment, but she found herself drifting into a deep and comfortable sleep.As she was sleeping comfortably on Bucky's chest, she suddenly felt him shake her awake, causing her to practically jump off him. He placed his hand over her mouth and pulled her on to the floor with him. Amora heard vehicles revving up outside as headlights glared through the windows. She knew it wouldn't be long until someone came, but this fast?"They found us?" Amora laid under the window as Bucky loaded up a few rifles beside her. "James!" She whispered and poked his rock hard bicep, "Are these people with you?""No." His tone was cold and serious, "Stay low and follow me." Amora nodded in response, seeing him change into his assassin self before her eyes. Never once had she seen him turn so cold and focused before. She always knew him to be laid back and full of jokes, even back when he was a sniper. Amora followed him on her hands and knees, trying to avoid having any light hit her."We know you are in there!" A voice with a thick accent called from outside, "Hand over The Enchantress. That's all we want.""The Enchantress, huh?" Bucky looked at her over his shoulder with a cocky smile on his face, "Paying homage to me, sweetheart?""Oh, quiet!" Amora motioned her hand to him to keep moving. Bucky kept his position, still giving her a smile. She knew she was not going to hear the end of this one. Amora gently pushed him, knowing he was about to make another comment. They made it to the other end of the small house, hearing footsteps move around outside. Bucky grabbed a duffle bag that was on the floor and placed all his weapons inside."You should let me handle this one, dear." Amora tried peeking out the window a little, "It would be less...bloody." Amora felt his metal hand grab her and bring her to the floor again to avoid getting caught."That's what they want." He whispered, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, "I'll be right back. Whatever happens, don't move. I'll come and get you when it's all cleared." Bucky grabbed ahold of his rifle and snuck out of the room, leaving Amora with a look of expressionless look on her face."He's an assassin...he knows what he's doing," she whispered to herself, hearing it grow to complete silence. She licked her dry lips and took a deep breath in. She heard some noise come from outside and then sudden gunfire. Her head shot up from all the sudden noise, hearing yells come in all different directions then loud gun fire, followed by thuds hitting the ground. As it grew more quiet, Amora slowly got up from her spot and looked outside. She covered her mouth, feeling sick to her stomach, as she witnessed bloody corpses with a dozen bullet wounds all over their bodies."Let's go," Bucky walked back in, his arms and shirt covered with blood that clearly wasn't his own. He threw his rifle in the duffle bag and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her away from the window that exposed all the dead bodies. Amora felt herself go into a slight shock for she never saw something this gruesome before. Yes, Howard Stark's accident was brutal, but nowhere near this level. He exited the house, dragging her behind him at a quick pace to a black SUV. Amora caught glimpse of more dead bodies laying around the small house. She felt extremely sick as she saw one with his head blown off. Amora covered her mouth and got into the SUV, putting her head between her legs to take a moment to process everything."I told you I am a weapon," Bucky stated coldly as he started the vehicle, "Nothing can change that.""We can't leave all these bodies here, James." Amora sat up in her seat and took a deep breath in and out. "I'll be right back," She opened the door and quickly jumped out of the car, walking over to the dead bodies."Amora! What the hell?! We need to go, NOW!" Bucky shouted from the car, getting ready to jump out and go after her.Amora snapped her fingers, locking him in the SUV. She heard him start swearing in what she recognized was Russian, but she didn't turn back to watch him rage out in the SUV. Amora faced her palms down to the ground and mumbled a spell under her breath. She kept repeating the words as she felt her hands tremble as green smoke surged on the ground and around the house. Slowly the green smoke covered the bodies and anything left of the scene and slowly dissolved everything into thin air, leaving nothing left in site. Amora let her hands fall to herside, feeling herself exhausted from not exercising her powers before using them. She walked back over to the SUV and snapped her fingers again, unlocking it."In three...two..one.." She placed her hand on the handle and opened the door. Bucky sat in the driver's seat, enraged."WHAT THE FUCK?!""I had to clean up your mess, Winter Soldier." Amora sat back in the passenger's seat and wiped her nose, "Alright, lay it on me. I know what you are going to say.""Do you ever listen, Amora?!" Bucky's grip tightened on the wheel, trying to calm down, "You are so stubborn, I can't believe it. You could of been caught!"Amora put her feet up on the headboard and pushed the seat as back as far as it would go, "I can say the same for yourself! You are welcome, darling.""Thanks..." Bucky muttered under his breath and quickly drove off, "What am I going to do with you?""Love me and give me attention?" Amora chuckled to herself, knowing she was just going to piss him off even more. He didn't respond and just kept driving. Amora closed her eyes and tried drifting off to sleep. All she could do was feel some tension in the car, which was starting to make her feel uneasy. Amora moved the seat back up to its normal position and took her feet off the headboard."I know you were only trying to help," Bucky kept his eyes on the road as Amora looked out the window, "We are in a shitty situation, Amora. We won't have time to clean up our messes.""I did it because I don't want them going after you. If it were me that did that I would of left it like it was." Amora rested her hand under her chin, as she watched the desert scenery go by as they drove at high speeds."I always have people coming after me," he glanced at her for a quick second, "That is never going to change.""So what now?" Amora turned her head towards him, noticing all the blood stained on his arms. He didn't seemed bothered by it, not at all. She figured that this was probably nothing for him and that he had done much worse."I don't know yet. I still need to figure some things out." Bucky scratched the stubble on his face, his metal fingers tapping against the steering wheel. She noticed he was having some sort of deep thought that he didn't want to share with her."I feel like there is something you aren't telling me." Amora sat up and furrowed her eyebrows together, placing her hands in her lap. "Knowing you, you would of taken me back to that weird prison because you would of claimed it was safer, but instead you are doing the complete opposite. Why? Steve and the others are bound to come after us now." That didn't bother Amora. In fact, it would help her out in her sticky situation with Loki."So we are going to be honest with each other now?" Bucky's face went cold, "I heard you talking in your sleep."Amora rubbed her eyes and shook her head slightly, feeling uncomfortable and awkward. She didn't realize that everything she had said was spoken out loud. "I was going to tell you..""When?" His grip tightened on the wheel as he looked straight ahead with his cold eyes, "After you kill my friends?""What?!" Amora shook her head and clenched her hand into a fist, "You don't understand, James...""Then fucking tell me or so help me I take you back so you can get another damn collar put on you!" He pounded his hand on the wheel, making Amora practically jump out of her seat. She felt her body start to tremble by his rage. She wasn't scared that he would probably black out and kill her. She was scared that she was going to lose him again.Amora bit her trembling lip and squeezed her eyes shut as she fought back her emotions, "Just take me back...""Why can't you just tell me?" Bucky's voice sounded a little more calm, but she could still hear the anger behind it, "We built our relationship on trust and honesty. Why are you doing this?"Amora lowered her head, "Because I don't want you to get killed." She put her hand over her eyes, thankful her hair was covering up her flushed face. She would of carried out her task perfectly if Bucky had not been involved at all."Well I am taking you back. I thought there would be more of the old you in you and then I realized...you are just as gone as I am." Bucky kept his callous expression on his face as she started to see bright city lights in the distance.Amora turned away and looked out the window again, feeling this was his plan all along. As she looked out the window and all the bright lights in the distance she noticed a large black cloud forming in the sky. As they got closer, Amora noticed that a tall, modern, building was on fire and was about to collapse. She flipped her head towards Bucky and noticed that he was driving towards it."Don't think about disappearing. We aren't done here." Bucky parked the car a few blocks away and got out, grabbing a few weapons from the backseat. Amora looked confused as she watched him run to the burning building, noticing the black jet hovering above the ground. "The Avengers.." Amora opened the door and slowly got out of the SUV, her eyes locked on the building. She noticed people constantly running in and out, carrying survivors, as well as burnt bodies. Her green eyes widened as the flames grew bigger and more violent. Amora felt a panic rise in her as she knew the building would soon come down at any moment. As her eyes trailed up to the top, she noticed there was a huge chunk of the building missing.Amora looked around, trying to get her way closer to the building, "Excuse me," she asked an elderly man who was covered in ash and rubble, "What happened here?"The man, clearly in the state of panic went on to tell her how something came out of the sky and crashed into the building. It didn't quite make sense to Amora, but she nodded in thanks and headed closer to the building to get a better look. She covered her nose and mouth from all the smoke, feeling her eyes burn and get watery. She searched frantically, in hopes to see Bucky run out the door, but there was only smoke."Come on, come on!" Amora heard a loud crashing sound above her and noticed the building was started to slowly come down."NOOO!" Having a flashback to the last time she thought she lost Bucky, Amora shot out her arms, green energy radiating off her body, circling the building in a fast motion. Amora raised her arms up higher, focusing all her powers on keeping the tall building standing for as long as she could possibly hold. Her powers were nowhere near as strong as they were on Asgard, but this time, Amora was stretching the limits.More people ran out the building as Amora fought to keep it standing. She felt her head start to ache and throb, her body start to tire. She was reaching her breaking point and had to stop, but she forced herself to keep going, not until she knew that Bucky was out of the building. Amora fought through the pain that was building up in her head, feeling her nose start to bleed out. She wasn't going to let him die, even if it meant killing herself. From the corner of her blood shot eye she saw Bucky and Steve run out, carrying to unconscious children away from the building. She still kept it up, not giving up now."Don't let it fall," she muttered weakly to herself. Amora could feel her body shake and tremble, begging her to give up. She focused her energy harder now and focused on the flames. She felt a sharp pain in her stomach and back, her body growing more weaker as she used more of her powers. "Just...one...spell..." Amora felt the blood from her nose touch her lips as she mumbled a spell to control the flames. She could feel herself losing her balance as she kept her eyes focused on the flames. She shot out her hands one last time and all the green energy consumed the flames, leaving the building still standing. She lowered her trembling hands and fell to her knees, having pushed herself past her limits."Amora!"Amora kept her head hanging low for she was too exhausted to even lift a finger. She heard heavy footsteps run in her direction. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, trying to ignore all the pain that was going through her body. She could hear someone approaching her and she was ready for whatever happened next, whether it be a bullet or another collar. Bucky knelt in front of her, as panic rose in his face. He never saw her like this before, never this weak or fragile."Look at me. Come, sweetheart, lift your head," Bucky lifted her chin with his thumb, taken back by the dark circles that formed under her blood shot eyes and the bloody nose."Amora, can you hear me?" He placed both his hands on the side of her face, pulling his face close to hers, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks to comfort her. Amora weakly blinked and gave him a faint smile, fighting through all the pain."I'm so tired." Amora hoarsely coughed out, "You are okay.." Amora gave him another faint smile, letting her hand rest on his knee. She could see he was all worked up with emotions that he was trying to fight back to look strong for her. Amora knew that he saw how weak she was at the moment and that it pained him deeply."We need to get you somewhere so you can rest," Bucky rested his forehead against her, kissing her nose, "I am okay thanks to you, doll."Amora placed her trembling hands over his as he kept caressing her cheekbones with his thumbs,"I guess I still have some of that old me left inside," Amora smiled weakly as she leaned her head into this metallic hand, letting the cold metal help soothe her throbbing head. She closed her eyes and felt Bucky bring her up on his lap, just holding her close to him."Shhhh." He placed a kiss on the top of her head, moving his left hand to the back of her neck to cradle her head as she laid her head on his chest, letting her body come to a complete rest, "I knew you would."
10754574	Primal	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Ethan Nestor, Tyler Scheid", "Fandom": "youtube - Fandom", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by Tythan (orphan_account)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-28T00:00:00", "words": "1,034", "Additional Tags": "Remember when I started the TyWolf trend?, me too, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Established Relationship, Fluff, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Knotting, Biting, Blood, Bestiality, Zoophilia, Mating Cycles/In Heat", "Relationship": "Ethan Nestor/Tyler Scheid", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	He’s awoken by a whine coupled with the insistent press of a muzzle against his jaw, cold nose and thin whiskers tickling his cheek. Ethan lets out a strained huff as all his senses come to and he’s suddenly very aware of Tyler’s full weight on him. He gently pushes away the muzzle that's still sniffing and lapping at his jawline and sits up a bit to look at the eager canine comfortably sat on his thighs. Ethan groans, pushes a hand through the other’s brown curls and blinks a few times to wake himself up. The lycan whines, noise high in his throat. Ethan hums groggily, dull nails scratching at the other’s scalp. “What's the matter, baby?” He murmurs, both hands moving to stroke through the other's fur. Tyler leans his head against the pets and lets out a content huff, his tail thumping against the bed. Though, it’s not long before that high whine is leaving him again and he’s pressing his head more insistently against Ethan’s hands. “Does someone need to go out?” The question is met with a soft growl. Apparently not. Tyler leans down, sniffs at Ethan’s chest and takes the fabric of Ethan’s shift into his mouth and tugs softly. Ethan pets the canine’s muzzle, chuckles softly. Tyler tugs a bit harder and lets out a less-than-playful grumble along with a brief flash of teeth. Tyler’s rarely ever aggressive, and it takes a minute before it clicks, Ethan fights the urge to laugh. “Neighbor’s puppy finally go into heat?” Tyler huffs loudly through his nose. Bingo. The older male lets out yet another whine, resting his head on Ethan’s chest and giving him a pleading look. Ethan hums, fingers stroking through the thick curly fur. Ethan cooed sympathetically, scratches along Tyler’s shoulders. “Poor baby.” Tyler groans in response. “C’mon, get up.” It takes some coaxing, but Tyler eventually pads off to Ethan’s side, though he’s picked up whining again. Ethan scoffs, pats his cheek, and tells him to stop being so pouty. Ethan pulls his shirt off first, nudges the blankets off himself, and pushes himself up off the bed. Tyler watches attentively, silently, as Ethan digs through the nightstand and comes out with a bottle of lube. Tyler lets out a whine, sniffing and pawing at the bottle before looking back up at Ethan. Ethan lays back out on the bed and reached a hand up to scratch the fur on Tyler’s neck.Tyler licks his wrist appreciatively, and Ethan lets out a content sigh. Tyler’s eyes are filled with nothing but desperation and pleading, and Ethan just rolls his eyes as he flicks the cap of the lube bottle open. He makes quick work of opening himself up, main encouragement being Tyler’s insistent high-pitched whines and the way the lycan nosed along and licked Ethan’s cheek. Ethan can't afford to rush himself through prep, but he can feel Tyler growing ever-more impatient. He works himself up to three fingers as fast as he can, and Tyler’s let out a deep, feral growl as Ethan finally manages in a fourth. He spends a minute like that, rocking himself against his fingers and making sure he’s completely adjusted to the feeling before he’s reaching for Tyler, slowly lathering the canine’s cock in lube as well. Tyler, never one for waiting, is bucking into Ethan’s hand and whining. Ethan rolls his eyes, pats Tyler’s hip with his clean hand and tells him to get to it. Tyler pads around Ethan’s frame and makes quick work of mounting him, paws pressing his weight against Ethan’s shoulder blades. Ethan helps guide Tyler’s cock as he’s slowly pressing in. Even with his preparation, the stretch of Tyler’s cock leaves Ethan nearly breathless, and by the time he’s sunk down to the start of Tyler’s knot he’s already panting. For once, Tyler shows compassion, he waits patiently, though his soft whines and the ever-impatient shift of his paws on Ethan’s back are a reminder that this isn’t for fun and Tyler really does need this. Ethan gives him the okay, and Tyler’s motions are immediate, bruising thrusts. Ethan can barely contain himself and soon find himself biting down on his forearm just to muffle the noises he’s making. Tyler is relentless, and Ethan soon feels the weight of Tyler’s front paws shift from his shoulder blades to on the bed, at either side of Ethan’s face. The lycan leans forward, cold nose pressed to Ethan’s neck as he takes in the scent of the human. Ethan’s a mess of pressing back into each and every thrust as he’s moaning loud enough that, if he had a clear head, he’d be certain the neighbors could hear. It doesn’t take a lot for Tyler, his body’s long past wrecked with over-sensitivity, and the canine is biting down on Ethan’s shoulder, teeth sinking in until blood spills over. The knot pushes into Ethan slowly, and Ethan lets out a weak groan as Tyler completely bottoms out in him. Ethan strokes himself to completion, lets out a heavy sigh as him cum pools in the bed sheets. Tyler rocks against Ethan lazily, letting go of his jaw’s grip on Ethan’s shoulder and moves instead to slowly lap away at the blood trickling down Ethan’s skin. Ethan takes a moment to catch his breath before he’s lazily rubbing a hand through Tyler’s fur. Tyler huffs softly through his nose and licks Ethan’s cheek in return. Ethan hesitantly presses a finger to the bite wound, examine the small amount of blood that stays on his finger, and sighs before wiping his hand clean on the bed sheet. “Seriously? I told you. No biting. Bad boy.” Tyler whines, hesitantly nosing the wounds and lapping at it. Ethan occasionally hisses in pain but otherwise remains content. Tyler’s playing nice, giving soft, apologetic whines every time Ethan shows pain, and his tail tickles Ethan’s calves as it sways happily in a very slow wag. “You so owe me when you change back.” Tyler nuzzles his nose into Ethan’s neck, which draws a small chuckle from the younger male. Ethan focuses on calming his breathing as Tyler rests his head between Ethan’s shoulderblades.
10701807	The Fruits of Many	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Layton Kyouju Series \| Professor Layton Series", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by apeppermint", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-22T00:00:00", "words": "617", "Additional Tags": "Ficlet, Nostalgia, Future Fic, One Shot", "Relationship": null, "Character": "Hershel Layton", "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	In Professor Layton's office, he's saved many things.On his book and paper-strewn desk, he has photos in displays. In his drawers, he houses keepsakes. On his wall, he has put a map, where each place he's visited has been pinned. It's a recent addition. It has, after all, been many years since he's been capable of traveling often.It's a little quiet these days. The phone doesn't ring as much anymore. Neither does he receive as many mysterious letters from old friends with great puzzles needing to be solved. He still receives letters, of course. Countless, from those who are fans and those are grateful, and from those who have loved him over the years.Luke writes often. Flora writes more. Life has carried the both of them off to great things. Sometimes they even visit for weeks at a time, and Luke, who's gone from a wide-eyed boy to a passionate man with a thirst for adventure, is always curious about news of curious things. His accent's dwindled, which Layton finds humorous. Living across the way has made it slight, an undercurrent. They have families. Their time is theirs. Emmy writes, too. It is his happiness that she has finally found her own. His is his professorship, and his little family. He has failed here and there with it, he was never good at balancing home and work, but Alfendi and himself had settled on something. When Lucy comes over, grinning up a storm, it brings about a wave of nostalgia so powerful Layton almost has to sit down. He is overjoyed all the same, because, when Alfendi gets irritated, tosses a bit of well-deserved abuse his direction, Lucy calls him "Potty" and tells him off. The tension is there, but it's good. Katrielle just rolls her eyes at it. "Come off it, Al! She's right to call you potty. Now, tell me about that Mystery Room of yours." Alfendi and her bicker. That is his little joy. Katrielle is often in his office, begging to hear of old "cases," as she prefers to call them. "Adventures" as Luke would rather. She wants to hear of retired Inspector Chelmey and Grosky. Of curious villages and diabolical boxes. Dirigible rides around the world; time travel. Masked gentlemen and golden gardens. He has told her same tales time and time again, but she never grows tired of them. She tests her mettle with his puzzles; and she tries to beat him at his own game with hers. He is content with his old age. But sometimes he looks on it all. At his spares of top hats, at his pictures of Claire, which his wife knows of, though she never says a word about; of Luke's cap on his hat stand, which had been given to him as a present on Luke's graduation from university; at the flowers that Flora sends, scattered around his office, which inevitably wither no matter how hard his cleaning ladies try and keep them alive. Sentimentality rolls off the place, even in the so-called "artifacts" that he has gathered together in his holy space. All gifts. An ocarina; an empty box; and such.Pictures of long-gone friends from all his adventures. Of Desmond Sycamore and Aurora. Of Loosha. Of Andrew. Of Anton. Of two family pictures. It is hard to look on those, sometimes.But then students file into his office, burning with questions, and his colleagues come in with questions about history, about particular finds and particular journals, and he is easily distracted from these things.And it's strange how still being called "professor" by Luke, even after all these years, makes him feel like time has barely moved at all.
10727958	Aurora	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": "Michael (Dominion & Legion), Louis (Dominion), Gabriel (just flashbacks)", "Fandom": "Dominion (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by AloneShadow", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-25T00:00:00", "words": "5,242", "Additional Tags": "Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Michael, Mentions of Injuries, Feels, Pre Season 1", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Pieces of Dominion", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	“Brother, I fear it is my duty to give you bad news from Vega…” Vega? “Yes… the city is still standing, somehow, but don’t worry, I’ll take care about that sooner or later. No, this is about your beloved child.” No…“I think Noma failed… well, you weren’t expecting her to continue your job, isn’t it? It’s been five years, after all.” I trust her… she would never- “Such a shame. I guess we’ll have to wait for another savior now.” No… no, this was his destiny my destiny… he was- “We’ll wait together, like a family. Doesn’t sound too bad, huh?” He was my destiny... .-.-. Michael startled awake, staring at the sand against his cheek in a moment of pure confusion. Pushing himself up on his hands, he looked at the desert around himself, what remained of some old trees, little spots of yellow grass under the dark sky that was rumbling above. He stayed on his knees, trying to breathe between some coughs, and looked at the mountains far, far away from him now. “You have no reason to leave anymore. You should be happy: you’re free once again!” Michael looked down at the dirty long, black jacket he was wearing, his sweater stained with mud, sand, and blood. He could still feel every wound on his body, especially the one on his side and the on the back… one of his wing...Trying to free them, the Archangel hardly contained a scream of pain, hitting the ground with both his fists, head bent down, trying to breathe. He had to keep breathing. Slowly, very slowly, Michael forced himself to stood up and regain his balance. He looked at the mountains one last time, “I don’t need you to free me… brother.” He murmured before turning around and kept walking. Was almost night when he saw the walls around the city of Vega, and he wasn’t sure to feel happy or afraid of what he could found inside. He couldn’t walk straight to the entrance, no time for getting a permission, or alert half of the city, and the other half didn’t even know him like Archangel yet… but someone did. Moving on the right side, he slowly dragged himself to the section of the wall that was still under construction, only two meters of it were ready there, then the city would be inaccessible for everyone coming from outside. Michael stopped there, in the dark, the hood covering his head, and looked up, waiting, until a little ladder fell down to allow him to enter. With a sigh, he slowly started to climb it. He reached the top, moved on the other side, but lost the grip half way down, falling with a gasp and a groan of pain. Then, two hands were on him. “Michael? It's really you...” He looked at the man, “Louis…” “Yes, I heard your call.” He nodded, “I thought you were gone forever…” he smiled sadly, helping him to stand, looking around them. “I… I tried to come back…” “You’re hurt.” He said, looking down at him, “You need to-“ a high pitched whistle made him look on the left, “We need to move. Come on.” And he dragged him away into the dark streets of Vega. “How’s the city?” The Archangel asked. “Good. All considered. The walls are almost done, and put the troops around the perimeter was one of the few things all the Houses agreed.” Louis stopped behind a corner, checking the way, then looking at him with a worried face, “You disappeared for years… most of us thought that you were dead.” He saw him shook his head, “It was Gabriel?” Michael sighed, “Who else it could be?” “That’s why he didn’t bother to attack us anymore.” “He didn’t?” “No. The last five years were mostly dangerous because of the Government of the city. Not everyone was happy to see those few families giving orders to the rest of us.” Louis stopped outside his little shop and let him sit on a chair. “The Reisen’s were the only ones caring to keep a peaceful contact with the people. We’re not in a civil war only because of them.” He took a deep breath, “I need something for your wounds-“ he moved to enter the shop, but the Archangel grabbed his arm to stop him. “What about Noma?” Michael asked. Louis shook his head, “She disappeared almost at the same time as you did. She wasn’t with you?” “I don’t know.” Michael let him go, “I haven't been able to search for her…” “Maybe she’s still around, just… hiding.” Louis said then moved to enter the shop. When he walked outside again with a med kit, the Archangel wasn’t there anymore. Michael kept moving through the city slower that he liked to, but the wound on his side wasn’t healing fast enough and he was so tired… The instinct to free the damaged wing was still present, but free them would mean to probably pass out because of the pain, and he couldn’t let that happen, not now. “I bet you miss flying around, isn't it? Well... you can’t use your wings in a cave, anyway.” He remembered Gabriel saying that before cracking one with a foot. Michael shivered at the memory of the sound, the sudden pain, and how he quickly hid them inside his back in reflex and after that, he didn’t dare to free them again. Was almost a year now: a year of hidden, constant pain that didn’t drive him crazy only because he was an Archangel. Taking a deep breath, Michael left the wall he was leaning on and walked to the only place he still cared about in the city. The stormy clouds were covering the last sunlight of the evening, helping the Archangel to move safer from a dark spot to another. Michael crossed some people into the streets, but they weren’t interested in him at all. When he reached the place he was looking for, he slowly came to a halt, staring in silence in front of him: there were the remains of a burned little house, just black metal, rocks and broken concrete on the ground. He let out a little breath, staring at the scene, then he moved closer, looking around through what the fire didn't destroy. He crouched and grabbed a half-burned pot, closing his eyes, trying to keep the tears away. Taking a deep breath, another flash of pain from his back make him groan. “You left them alone, dear brother, what you could expect from them? He was just a child and Noma… well, she’s not the best at protecting someone.” Michael’s grip tightened on the pot, sending it into pieces. “Wasn’t your choice to make, Gabriel…” he murmured in rage, standing up to walk away: if he'd lost everything, if there was really no hope left, then there was no reason to keep fighting. If the only way was to destroy everything once and for all... everything, humans and angels both. Nothing had reason to survive anymore, not now that he failed his mission and Alex was… Alex was-Someone smashed against the Archangel’s stomach and call him back to the present. Michael just made a step back at the hit, but the other one fell down: a kid. “He’s running this way!” “Catch that little brat!” Michael looked into the street, where the voices were coming from, then back the kid that was staring worryingly int the same direction, and then even more worried at him. Michael stared at him for a moment, almost in a déjàvu, remembering another kid that once looked at him the same way… it was another time, a long, long time ago in the desert, the sun illuminating corpses and blood over the sand… The Archangel made his choice. “This way!” “He can’t run forever!” Other kids ran into the alley but found no one. There were at least four of them, everyone around fifteen years old.Michael was hiding in the dark, against a wall, looking at them keep searching for a bit, before running ahead. Slowly, he reopened his jacket and removed a hand from the kid’s mouth, letting him go. The kid jumped away, staring at him with a nervous glare: he was younger than the others, with black, messy hair and dirty clothes a bit too big for him. “You should go now,” Michael said tiredly, eyes close, still leaning against the wall. “Why you helped me?” asked the kid. Michael stared down at him, “I don’t know.” He was ready to start a war just a second ago, and still… he couldn’t stop himself from help another human. “What kind of answer is that?” Michael took a deep breath and moved back to the remains of the house. He stared at them before fall on his knees. What was the point of keep fighting for the humankind? What was his reason to stay there, anymore? “Are you hurt?” Asked the kid, some steps away. “I am.” “You need a doctor?” the kid took another step back when the man glared at him, “I know a doctor that live in that red house- down that street.” He added, pointing behind him. “Why you want to help me?” “Because help someone is the right thing to do. That’s what Lady Reisen said on the radio.” Michael stared at him for a long moment, then looked back at the house, “You know what happened to this house?” The kid made a step closer, looking at the remains, “It burned down during at assault. Bad people were in the city.” “8-balls?” “Yes.” “When that happen?” “Uh… three years ago.” “Someone survived the fire?” “No.” Michael sighed, looking down. “You… you lived here?” “No… a friend of mine.” He looked at the kid again that, being almost next to him now, quickly stepped back again, “You should go home.” He said standing up, turning around to leave. “I don’t have one.” Michael stopped and looked back at him. “Lots of people don’t have a home.” The kid added, looking at the burned house.“…We are in two, then.” “You don’t have a home either?” the kid asked, staring surprised at him that shook his head, “But I thought… I thought you were some kind of soldier.” “What makes you think that?” “The two swords you have with you.” Michael looked down at his two daggers along his sides. “It's… for protection.” “The army here use swords too.” The kid said, staring at him pensively, “Are you not from Vega?” “It’s a long story…” Michael moved again to leave, but he fell again, grasping on a wall to support himself. He couldn’t continue like this; he was wounded, he could feel the bleeding on his side, the wing screaming to be free and cured, and he didn't eat for weeks… “I have to call the doctor.” The kid said again, now sounding a bit worried.“No. No doctor…” the Archangel managed to say, before pass out. When he woke up, was still night and he was laying on his back. Staring at the sky for a moment, he jumped feeling something on his wounded side and grabbed the little arm of a kid... the same kid he helped before. That was Vega… no more Gabriel’s cave. “W-what are you doing?” “Cleaning the wound.” The kid said, looking down at it, “I saw the blood… and you said no doctor.” Michael sighed and let him go, his arm falling down again. He was so tired… Silently, the kid moved up his shirt again to get a better view of the wound and put a wet cloth on it, making him flinch again. “S-sorry.” Michael looked at him, a little kid trying to act strong and big, clearly shivering at the sight of a wound like that… yet he was trying to help. “You saw the doctor working on wounded people?” The kid blushed a bit, continuing to clean his skin. “You never took care of something like this? Ugh-“ “I’m trying, ok?” he huffed, blushing, but staying focused on the task. Michael took a deep breath, closing his eyes, “I know…” he said slowly, “Thank you.” “You look like someone stabbed you.” “You’re going to choose them again, aren’t you? WHY? What makes them so damn important to you?!” Gabriel’s scream echoed in the Archangel’s mind more than his brother’s hit that follows them. “Are you sure you’re not a soldier?” Michael slowly sat up, a hand on the cloth to keep it in place, breathing slow and deep before look around: they weren’t close to the burned house anymore, far away from the center of the city, on top of a fallen highway. He stood up and looked at the few lights blinking in the night. He could destroy everything just like that, without even thinking too much… the world no longer needed to be saved anymore, after all. Hearing a fall, he turned around in time to see the kid on his knees, hands on the concrete. “What’s wrong?” “N-nothing.” Michael moved closer to him, watching him stood up and his legs shaken until he lost his balance again, but this time he was there to catch him by his skinny arm. “I- I’m fine.” “You’re scared.” “I am not!” “You can barely stand.” “That’s because-“ the kid lose his temper and sit down again. “You never saw blood at the doctor’s house?” He shook his head, black hair hiding his eyes, “He always closes the door when someone is hurt really bad.” Michael looked down at him, thinking, then said, “You should go back to that red house.” “I don’t live there.” “The doctor could help you.” “He already help me and the others. He gives us food.”“The others? You mean other kids?” “Everyone. He always helps when someone come to the red house.” Michael looked away again and noticed the Stratosphere, the black tower with only the lights at the base and the one on top still shining. He remembered to fly on top of it many times while the city was growing, and Jeep coming there with the little Alex along… “That’s the Stratosphere.” Said the kid, following his gaze, “People say that an angel lives in there.” Michael looked at him, hearing a little unhappiness in his voice, “You don’t believe them?” He shook his head, “I never saw him,” and blushed at bit at his staring, quickly looking down, “People are scared of the angel, even if they don’t even know if he’s really there or not.” “So you’re not scared of him?” “They say that he’s here to protect us, why should I be scared?” Michael took a deep breath and slowly looked at the away again, then asked, “It’s still open? The Stratosphere.” The kid frowned a bit, “Kind of…” “Kind of?” “Someone tried to sneak inside, so I guess it’s open… but no one reached the top.” Michael smiled a bit, “Thanks for your help.” He said, walking away. “Y-you’re going to meet the angel?” The kid asked, standing quickly to reach for him. “… Kind of.” “That’s not an answer.” Huffed the kid, but the other just smiled slightly. “He will heal you?” “I don’t know.” Michael stopped before crossing a street, looking down at him that thumped against his back at the sudden halt, “Why you’re following me?” “Because- because I want to see the angel.” he said, unsure, “Can I come with you?” “You-“ “You’ll need some help anyway.” Michael sighed patiently, “Alright.” He said and kept walking. He was surprised himself to allow the kid to come along, but it was thanks to him if he wasn’t destroying Vega yet. Maybe Noma was at the Stratosphere… maybe Jeep was there too, with Alex, everyone alive and safe… They walked fast through the city, avoiding any little patrol that was checking the streets and after a bit, they were at the base of the gigantic tower. Michael stopped to breath for a moment and looked at the kid that was staring at the building in silence. “You’ve already been here?” “Yeah… what? No, I-“ he blushed again, “I always stopped outside…” “You were scared?” “No, I was not!” Michael sighed again, but his light smile became a pained expression when his broken wing called for attention once again. The kid was close to him and grabbed his jacket, “It hurts?” “A bit.” The Archangel had no idea how long he could keep the wings hidden: the pain was reaching the limit point even for him. “Let’s go. The angel will help you.” That said, the kid walked inside dragging him along still grasping his jacket, with no intention of letting go. Michael didn’t have the energy to complain about it, so he just followed him, somehow relieved to have someone pushing him forward. Once inside, he looked around the abandoned hall, with few lights still working. Without those, the entire tower was in the dark, aside from the light they saw on the top.“Hey, look!” The kid dragged him to the elevator, “Last time I looked inside, it wasn’t working.” He looked back at him with a determined face, “Come on, we can go up!” and he pressed the button: the doors opened right away. The ride to the top floor was silent. Michael stayed with his back against the wall and the kid still attached to his jacket. He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping to see Noma’s or Jeep’s incredulous face outside those doors… but he was starting to think that no one was waiting there for him. “We’re here.” The kid said just before the doors opened and he moved both of them outside, just to stop after some steps in the big circular, dark room: the huge bed was an amount of sheets abandoned on it or on the floor; the big windows in front of it were half close, and the cold breeze was moving the white curtains. Dust was on every surface… and silence all around. “There’s no one…?” the kid said slowly looking around. “It looks like this place was abandoned for a long time.” Michael just stared at the empty room, some memories filling the need to found someone alive there. “I knew it… it was really just a lie.” The kid said sadly, moving both of them close to the window… just to jump at the scream the man made all of sudden. He turned around and saw him kneeling on the floor, one hand grasping the bed so hard he heard the sheet being ripped. Suddenly there was a wave of wind and a soft rustle that make him blink fast in surprise and let go the jacket: there were two black wings on the man’s back now, and one of them was clearly broken in the middle, hanging low to the floor. Michael was breathing fast, head now, still crying a bit for the terrible pain, but also the relief of freeing the poor, broken wing. He was shaking, ready to pass out again, and he forced himself not to because the kid was still there, and if he was going to run away and alert everyone, he had no choice but to stop him, no matter how…“You are an angel.”The Archangel looked up again, blinking at the kid that was again next to him, looking at his wings with eyes wide open, but that look wasn’t scared, that was just…pure amaze. “You could’ve told me sooner. You almost scared me.” The kid huffed with a little smile, sounding almost offended, then brushed slightly his fingers on the broken wing and saw him flinch and groan again. “Who broke your wing?” he asked, but the other just looked down. “We… we have to fix it. I don’t know if there is a doctor for angels in Vega… maybe I can-” “No. I… I just need some time… to rest.” “But-“ Michael leaned against the bed and was unconscious in a second. When he woke up again, the pain was gone. He actually felt good for the first time after years. Michael blinked at the ceiling of his house, his nest in the Stratosphere, slowly remembering what happened and the memories pushed him to sit up carefully because, he noticed, his wings were open all over the bed and the broken one... He frowned at what looked like a sheet that was covering the broken part of his wing, in the middle of it, and there was also a piece of wood underneath, to keep it in the right position to heal… the Archangel stared blankly at all that, feeling like a bird rescued by a kid… Michael blinked again and looked around: the kid was still there, sleeping, sat against the wall next to the window, with a blanket on his shoulder, head bending over the arms placed on his knees. The Archangel took a deep breath, and then moved his legs out the bed, trying to move the wings a little, still feeling his back slightly sored. The movements apparently woke up the kid that straightened his head and looked around still half-asleep. “Did you patch me up?” The kid brushed over his eyes and nodded tiredly, “I saw a woman do it once.” “To who?” “Uh… a bird.” And he blushed and the blank face he got in response to that, “I- I thought that that could help.” “You had no reason to stay and help me.” “I know. I just wanted to.” They looked at each other for a moment, then Michael nodded, “I guess I own you a favor, then.” The kid smiled, "Yes, you do." “Can you take it off, now?” Michael asked, moving a bit the damaged wing. “Already? It needs to heal…” the kid said, but stood up and left the blanket on the floor, moving next to him. “It’s already healed.” “Really?” “Really.” He frowned, “Are you sure?” “Yes.” Michael wasn’t sure only about his lack of temper for this little kid. If it was because he was still too tired or just because he couldn’t managed to be angry at him. The kid stared at him for another moment, then at the wing and walked up on the bed, standing next to wing that was still too high, but then it slowly lowered for him to reach. He started to undo the sheet and once the piece of wood was removed, he watched in surprise at the perfectly healed wing that, just to prove it, stretched and both of them waved up and down, making him fall sat on the bed with some giggle. “It’s really healed! How can you do that?” “Angels heal quicker than humans.” Michael said, looking at his wing himself, just to be sure, then at the kid again, “You’re not scared?” “You don’t look like and 8-ball.” He answered, legs crossed under himself, “I never saw black wings.” “That’s why you stole that feather?” He asked calmly, but the little one flinched anyway. The kid looked down at the pocket of his big sweater, from where a feather was almost falling. He grabbed it and handed to him with a sad face, “It fell on the floor, I- I didn’t pulled out from your wing.” Michael huffed a laugh, “You can keep it. But don’t give it to anyone else, understood?” and the kid smiled again, nodding vigorously. The Archangel stood up and walked to the window, looking the city asleep in the early morning. The sky was still cloudy, the air smelled of rain, but the wind was changing the weather faster that it seemed. “You… you’re the angel that lived here?” the kid asked after a bit, “The Archangel?” “Yes.” “So… you just come back home?” “If you want to call it like that…” “Why you left?” Michael looked down, sadly, “It wasn’t my choice.” He said with a long, deep sigh, then turned around, just to stop, finding the kid next to him. “I would never left if I could.” He added, “But the city is growing… it grown even without me.” “Lot of bad things happened, though...” “I know.” Michael felt the guilt overwhelmed him for a moment: yes, he lost Jeep and Alex… and without them, the world was doomed. Everything because of him. He crouched on one knee, looking sadly at the kid, “Can you forgive me?” he asked, not sure why he was doing something like that. Maybe he just needed to be forgiven by someone, even only one person. The kid, though, was staring at him with a serious face. Then he said, “Only if you promise to never leave again.” “I promise.” “Good. Then I forgive you.” The kid nodded with a little smile. Michael freed a breath, as if that little smile was the sun in a dark, dark world. He stood again and moved a bit his wings, feeling the need to fly stronger than ever… but a hand grabbed his jacket again and he looked down. “Can we… can I fly with you?” The Archangel blinked in surprise. “Only to go back in the city.” The kid felt the need to be specific on that, “I mean- are you sure you can fly already? Your wing just- WOAH!” the Archangel grabbed him by the chest and he didn’t need to say anything more because they were already in the sky. Being able to fly again, after all that time, was like discovering the sensation for the first time again. Michael took deep breaths in the cold air, feeling the kid grasp tightly on his arms, but he wasn’t screaming, just smiling happily like he probably haven’t done in a long time. He moved close to one of the three park in Vega, and there he felt a shiver over his back… maybe it was too soon, after all. He slowly started to descend over the big garden but another little pang of pain was making it difficult to halt, so he let go the kid when they were above a little pool, then he grabbed hard on a lampion not too far ahead to stop himself, swinging around it like in a dance, before slide down and hit the ground with a groan.Shaking his head to clear the vision, Michael turned to the pool just in time to see the kid jumping out of the water. “THAT WAS AWESOME!” He yelled happily, completely soaked, “Can we do it again? We have to do it again!”Michael huffed a laugh, standing up, making his wings disappear and was nice to do it without feeling any pain. “Maybe.” He said walking to the pool, but then stopped. The kid was trying to dry his hair, but suddenly he gasped, looking at his own hands: they were stained of black. He quickly looked at the Archangel, and now there was something too close to fear in his face.Frowning, Michael took another step before stopping at the edge of the pool, looking at him: the kid’s hair were losing color, revealing shades of dark blond underneath. “Oh no…” the kid looked ready to cry, crouching on himself, covering his head with both arms. “Now they’ll come for me… now they can see it!” Michael wasn’t sure what was happening. He entered the pool and kneeled in front of him, “Who’s coming?” “The bad people! They- they don’t like me.” “Bad people? You mean the kids from yesterday?” “The bad angels!” he said, shaking his head, still hiding on himself, nose almost touching the legs.Michael stared at the black lines of water dripping over those skinny arms, and then said, “No one is coming for you. No bad angels, nor bad people.” “But they will see my hair!” “It’s not a problem. I am here with you, now. I am sure no one will try to come close and hurt you.” The kid slowly looked at him, still worried and with black water running over his face. “You can keep them away?” “I will, you have my word.” Michael saw him nod once and look down, still both arms over his head, “May I…?” “But I have to hide it-“ “You don’t have to.” The Archangel insisted, “Let me help you like you helped me.” He added, gently moving his arms down and when he let him, he slowly started to clean his face with his sleeve. “Who are these bad angels? Why they’re searching for you?” “I don’t know… they always want to hurt me…and they say it’s-“ he stopped and closed his eyes when Michael grabbed some clean water through his hands and then let it fall on his hair, “They say they like my hair color and that… that I’m cursed.” “Cursed?” Michael frowned even more, splashing more water over his head. Angels that hunt down kids with blonde hair? “Yeah, they kept searching for me after burning down my home and they never stopped.” The kid said, looking sadly down into the water. Michael froze before the fourth splash of water, letting it run away through his fingers, staring at the kid while some ray of sun was finally appearing, shining over his blond hair, and the now more visible blue eyes… and there was something in his face… something he saw already somewhere, in the past… “The fire…” Michael said, lowering his hands, “That burned house… you lived there?” The kid nodded again, “With my dad, but he disappeared after that and I... I was alone. Then the bad people arrived... and some of them were asking for me- they started calling me blondie and I hate it so I cover it every day with coal or... or other stuff.” He placed his hands over his head again. “What’s your name?” Michael asked, but the kid kept his eyes down, frowning in his insecurity, “You can tell me. I am an Archangel and I can assure you, there is no curse against kids like you. I’ll take care of those bad people if they will ever come back.” The kid still wasn’t sure, but he slowly looked up, “You first.” “My name is Michael.” “Just Michael?” He saw him nod so, after a deep breath, looking down, voice even lower than before, he said “I am Alex Lannon.” And at the silence that followed, he decided to look up again: the Archangel was crying, with a slight smile on his face, "W-why you’re crying?” Michael shook his head, “Because I… I tend to forget how brave humans can be. You just proved it to me.” Alex frowned a bit, but also blushed, “I… I am not that brave.” “You survived for years all by yourself, fighting against those bad people… you are the bravest kid I ever met. And you’ll become even braver.” And now also Alex was ready to cry. Michael freed a sigh of relief and slowly hugged him, feeling him grasp the back of the jacket. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you… but I’m here now. You’re not alone anymore.” He said while hearing him cry against himself. The clouds were sliding away fast in the wind, leaving the sunlight free to dissolve any sign of darkness once again.
10793793	The IPREs Lament	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Johan (The Adventure Zone), Kravitz (The Adventure Zone)", "Fandom": "The Adventure Zone (Podcast)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by cornerandchair", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-02T00:00:00", "words": "314", "Additional Tags": "Spoilers for Episode 58 and 59", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Johan doesn’t know what to expect when he passes into the great beyond or whatever.He expects the light and his slow movement towards the Astral Plane.But after Magnus goes into his own light, Johan is left waiting.And waitingAnd waiting.He could only watch as the Void Fish defends his dead body.Johan looks around at the black creatures moving closer and closer, trying to subdue the Void Fish. He wishes he could help. But he didn’t know it was coming, caught by surprise, he had no chance to fight.He shuffles out of the Void Fish’s chamber and somehow finds his way into the common area. He watches as his fellow Bureau of Balance members fall to these… black things.Johan doesn’t have any of his instruments. He’s a literal ghost. But something swells up in him.And he starts to sing. The song catches the attention of his fellow felled Bureau employees, they all gather around.He sings a song that he didn’t remember writing before, but he remembers now.It was a song Madame Director had commissioned from him just before they began using the Void Fish to block information from the masses.It’s a song of seven travelers.Seven people of all different types, ideals, and actions.Seven lost people torn from their home, left to wander from plane to plane. Chased by something seemingly endless.On a quest to find an end to that seemingly endless being.Johan singsAnd the song echos.It echos all throughout the Ethereal Plane, and even pierces the boundary into the Astral Plane.Kravitz’s head jerks up at the song.He hears the song of three lovable doofuses, a lost bounty, an annoying lich he’s been trying to track for ages, that strange woman who headed Taako’s organization, and her assistant.He hears this song.And it gives him hope.
10739430	Like Fire	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Red Lion (Voltron), Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), references to Red's original paladin", "Fandom": "Voltron: Legendary Defender", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by NikNaks", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-27T00:00:00", "words": "5,258", "Additional Tags": "Implied Relationships, Ambiguous Relationships, with a minor in Pining Keith, Red Lion POV, Light Angst, Introspection, Implied/Referenced Character Death, the former paladins of course not the current ones lol, implied klance, light levels of mutual pining throughout honestly, Voltron lions as family, lion switching, Red Paladin Lance (Voltron), Black Paladin Keith (Voltron), Post-Season/Series 02, Canon Compliant, implied/referenced reincarnation", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Keith & Red Lion, Lance & Red Lion, Keith/Lance (Voltron)", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Red is born of fire and ash, made up of sharp lines and smooth sheets of metal and magic meant to withstand the flames of a thousand suns. In truth, with a physical container of machinery and wires, she has no literal heart, but the core of her being nonetheless burned from the very start with impatience and anger, a desire for speed and justice and completion. She did not understand, of course, that the cold emptiness that nicked the edges of her fire when she was first created was the lack of her paladin, the inevitable need to have what was hers by her side. She only knew instinct, and loneliness, and the blurry edges of the bonds between her and her siblings, who were all built of the same materials as her and yet inherently different at their centers— Green passion and intuition, Yellow warmth and love, Black patience and peace, Blue loyalty and devotion. Black had always spoken to them all of the importance of waiting, when she and her siblings had first began to clamor for the beings that would fill the empty spaces in their, albeit metaphorical, hearts. Of course, she had always felt it was easy for Black to say that— Their creator had been their paladin. They had never known the pain of this missing bond, the blank spaces that clearly spoke to something lacking where things should be whole. And when those first years had passed, and her siblings’ paladins had all come to them, Red had willed herself to be patient, to be content in her hangar as her siblings took to the stars at last. Red is not a naturally a patient creature in the slightest, though this was the one time in her life where she had endeavored herself to wait. …She does not know if she regrets that or not, if, had she set out on her own, she might have found her paladin sooner. Mortal lives are so fleeting at the best of times, and her paladin had died so young. If nothing else, she does not regret what time she’d had with her first paladin. Even the pain of losing him was a worthy cost for the joys she had known with her paladin, and as a part of Voltron with her siblings and their own paladins. She learned from the past, at least. Not to hesitate in the face of her paladin’s danger, or risk losing her new one like she had her first. Her first paladin had held a heart of flames, quick to frustration and impulsive and fearless and all the things Red was herself. He had been a wanderer, a pirate, a bandit, a criminal, a paladin, with his concept of home fleeting and nonexistent in his childhood, and then bright and cherished in his time with Voltron. He had been but a child even then, really, barely an adult for more than a few years before the war crawled into their lives, dirtying them all with its filth and dragging them down to Zarkon’s level, forcing them to play his game in order to stay alive. Back then, the idea of defeat had seemed a laughable concept, a mockery on the strength and heart of Voltron. Anger at Zarkon, at what he had done and what he had created, had clouded her judgment, as it had their all’s. The descent into guerilla warfare, into bloody underhanded tactics on their part in return for the enemy’s, had barely registered to her. The normalcy of it to her paladin, who had known some fight or another his entire life, had hidden their fall from grace, from surety of winning, from her. But fall they did, and lose they had, and in the end, she had lost him as well, a child soldier at heart who had never known peace no matter how much he had fought for it. She had recognized what had happened the minute she felt the affront to the bond, the searing pain that ripped along her core and tore his conscious from her, a kind of violation that left gaping wounds in her heart and shivers of disgustfuryhorror along the sparking wires and interconnected threads that held her physical form together. His life had been snuffed out so easily, and she had been able to do nothing, thousands upon thousands of miles away from him in the planet of lava and crumbling rock he had asked her to hide in. Ten thousand years she’d had to mourn, to revel in her disbelief and fury over what she knew, intuitively, had happened to her paladin, to all the paladins, and yet what she refused to accept. Red would like to pretend that she stayed strong in that time, that her resolve and her heart had remained the same— A strong fire that could burn low and simmer patiently until her time came again, but she crumbled in the emptiness, all those years alone and frozen creeping up on her, and when she had felt the first sparks of life and potential along the fragile, broken pieces of the bond, she had left without question, blindly seeking it out in a hopeful half-belief that somehow, somehow her beloved paladin was still alive. (Later, of course, she would come to realize what she had felt was her new paladin coming into existence, but at the time she had… hoped.) She never made it to the source of that small feeling, regardless. Instead, as she searched aimlessly, the Galra found her, and she discovered that a weapon such as herself without its paladin is not much of a weapon at all, against the might Zarkon had gathered in those ten thousand years. Those years in Galran confinement, trapped upon ships with only her particle barrier to keep them from taking her apart or trying to pilot her, those felt longer than the aching void of time waiting for her paladin to return to her, desperately fighting the feeling that, yes, what she felt was true, that he was gone and he was not coming back, that she would remain there for eternity and never see him or her siblings again. Feeling the bond awaken between her siblings had been… strange. After so long in dormant sleep, to feel Blue’s rippling echoes along the strings that bound her heart to her sibling’s, to know that her sister had a paladin again, somehow, had felt more like an idle daydream then a reality. Even as she had felt Yellow’s grounding presence and Green’s flighty spirit return, she had not yet dared to hope. Hope had gotten her nothing but sorrow and regrets, in those ten thousand years. And yet… Her siblings had come for her, and they brought her another child masquerading as a warrior to pilot her, a boy with black hair and fiery eyes too much like her original paladin’s for her to bear. Red had refused him at first, unable to believe, unable to accept, that her siblings would allow this, would relinquish their waiting for their true paladins in favor of these… replacements. How could they so easily move on, so calmly accept their duties, when she still mourned? She already had a paladin, and she did not want another, lesser one. Nothing could fill that void, is what the told herself, even as she felt the boy’s hands touch her particle barrier, had felt the familiar flame of her paladin’s soul burning in him. It was nothing more than a cruel mockery, surely— A new face and a new name daring to impersonate the quintessence of her beloved paladin. Until the boy had… protected her, for some reason, opening the airlock to keep intruders away as if a few Galran drones were any danger to her, or to someone who claimed themselves worthy of being her pilot. …What a stupid boy, really, an impulsive, reckless child, who had no concept of forethought or planning. Too much like her first paladin, too much like herself. When the boy had fallen, though, pulled out of the airlock and into the darkness of space as a consequence of his own foolish idea, she had gone without thought, dissolving her particle barrier of her own accord for the first time since the Galra had captured her and snatching the idiotic child from his flailing doom. She had felt the creeping spaces of fire and hope along the edges of the bond, and she had relented, accepted the inevitable, just as her siblings had. Her original paladin was gone, but this child somehow burned with the same bright light as his predecessor had. It was impossible, inexplicable, and yet true, and she would not lose a second pilot to this war, or to Zarkon. She would not idle again under some guise of propriety or patience and allow another one of her own to die. That, at least, was, is, a promise she has determined she will keep. Keith is… an interesting child. She supposes by mortal aging standards he technically hovers somewhere between late adolescence and proper adulthood, just as her former paladin had, but to her they are, or… were, children. Mortal’s lives are so short, after all— Even those that they consider true adults feel young to her, comparatively. Regardless, her second paladin is a fascinating creature. She had known, even before he had, of the Galran blood in his veins, though it had given her significantly less pause than it had for himself. Her former paladin had been of mixed blood too, albeit not Galran, and it had seemed fitting to her that Keith would as well, the species of that heritage be damned. Zarkon is a blight upon the universe, but she, even in her boldness, is not so rash as to hold him as the definition of his species. She still remembers Blue’s former paladin, if nothing else, and never had there been a Galra more honest or forgiving. It is no wonder, really, that her former paladin’s heart had beat so strongly for said Galran. Red’s connection with Blue has always been one of closeness, of push and pull, and that draw to one another had always been reflected in their paladins. Similarly, she had not been surprised when Keith had come to sit at her paws, face flushed and the fire of his quintessence flickering in a rush of emotion, in the aftermath of the attack on the castle that had left Blue’s new paladin injured. Keith was too much like his predecessor for his own good, as was Blue’s paladin, and that led to history repeating itself, slowly but surely. What she will not allow, however, is for her former paladin’s fate to befall this child as well, and as such from the moment she accepts Keith as her paladin, she makes it a point to protect him the way she could not protect what was once also hers, many mortal lifetimes ago. He does not make it easy— He is a foolish child of flame, quick to anger and vengeance, impulsive to his last breath and brash and stubborn in the face of authority or rules put in place for his own protection. All things that make him a fitting paladin for her, but also traits that could very easily get him killed. He is a brave warrior, a child soldier whose experience fighting compared to his teammates, excepting the black paladin, is more than visible, but he is not indomitable. She was blind to believe that about her previous paladin, and she has endeavored not to make that mistake again. Still, she has managed to keep him alive thus far, if, admittedly, not in perfect health at all times thanks to his brash heroism. …Which is part of what makes this so hard to accept. Red knows, logically, of what must happen, in order to continue to form Voltron, to protect the universe. Has known, even before her paladin did, in the moments after that final fight with Zarkon, when she and her siblings had stumbled back into their hangar and she had felt Black’s anguish crying out, but that does not make it easy to accept. Once again, the black paladin is gone. Not deserted this time, as his predecessor had, but simply… vanished. (Black has never known the pain of a missing paladin before, their bond with Zarkon tainted but still present until they broke it of their own free will, and Red does not know if that makes her pity her sibling or not. If nothing else, she endeavors to ignore the curling, bitter pieces inside the worst parts of her she would rather not exist that feel some sick sort of satisfaction at knowing Black now knows the pain she and the others have had to live with all these years.) It breaks her paladin, in a way. He held a closeness, a kind of fostered familial kinship, with the new black paladin in a way his predecessor never did with Zarkon. Keith is distinctly closer to the black paladin than any of the others, and this is one thing where Red finds herself at a loss. This is new, uncharted territory. Zarkon did not disappear, he betrayed. Her former paladin had not grieved or shut down in this way, he had burned up in righteous anger for the pain Zarkon had inflicted on others, not the least of those his fellow paladins. And yet, she knows what to expect, what will come of this change if they are to continue to form Voltron, because she knows of what the black paladin had told Keith. She knows everything when it comes to Keith. Red does not want it, loathes the very suggestion of what is inevitable down to her core, and her flames burns bright and furious when Keith, her foolish, beloved Keith, tells the other paladins and the Alteans of what the black paladin had asked of him, and when the Altean princess agrees without question. Her paladin is a capable, courageous child, with a heart of simmering ash and righteousness, but this is not right. Fire is a signal, a beacon in the dark when all hope is lost, a guide in the night for lonely souls, and that is potential for a fine healer, friend, leader, but fire is also an attack, it rages and steals oxygen from the area around it and it burns, unheeding of whether it scorches friend or foe as it searches to spread its flame. The fire that is Keith flickers with the makings of a strong and resolute head, but she fears that in the process of reaching that he may burn others terribly, or worse, himself. Fire, for all its potential, cannot be tamed. It can only be contained and withheld, at best. This she knows, better than any man or creature in this universe. Worst of all, if she allows this, if she relinquishes her Keith to Black’s care, she can no longer truly protect him. And while her sibling is a more than adequate guard, they are lost, mourning, confused. They are reeling from the disappearance of their paladin, and, even now, they still have not fully comprehended what it means to lose a paladin permanently, to feel their soul ripped away from your own— They do not, cannot, understand the vitality of protecting Keith, of ensuring that the loss of a paladin is never experienced again. Relinquishing Keith, giving him over to Black, even temporarily, may be his death. …But, if she does not, if she hoards her paladin close to her chest and demands someone else take the place in Black’s cockpit, they may all find themselves at death’s doorstep. Hesitancy in the face of the loss of a paladin cost them all everything ten thousand years ago. Continuing to form Voltron is not a debate, even Red knows this. To fight this war they must make certain sacrifices in the name of increasing their overall chances of survival. The frustrating thing is, she thinks, is that it does not have to be this way, but circumstance and stubbornness bind them all. The Altean Princess holds the clear potential to pilot Black, to pilot any lion in the face of an emergency, just as her father had before her, but she has not yet learned this skill, has yet to come into her own, and Black is too prideful and temperamental, much like Red herself, for so inexperienced a pilot to learn their ways on such short notice. Similarly, there is great promise in the blue paladin, if by the bonds his predecessor held with Black and with Zarkon if nothing else, but her sibling refuses such a notion even being voiced to their paladins, the taste of Blue paladin quintessence forever bitter to them for the remnants of memories of Zarkon it brings. If they must have a new paladin, even a temporary one, they will only accept that which their own has chosen as a suitable replacement. Red can respect the notion, but that does not mean she agrees with it. …She is not ready, yet, to watch another paladin die. She is not entirely sure she ever will be, the loss of her former paladin still an open wound that her soul aches for. What if Black cannot protect her Keith? What if she cannot adequately protect the new pilot thrust upon her in her blinding worry for her actual paladin. Yet still, when Keith comes to her, hesitation and nerves and undeniable fear at what must be done crawling across his skin and over the bond, she relents, cannot bear to be another obstacle in her paladin’s already near impossible course. She accepts what must be done, though she hates it, and she watches reluctantly as her darling Keith goes to Black with heavy footsteps, and as her sister equally reluctantly accepts the Altean princess as a pilot. This cannot be easy for Blue, either, she knows. While her versatile, gentle nature may be suited to an inexperienced pilot, her sister has lost a paladin too, has tasted the wrenching pain of the broken bond, and to accept the Altean princess, whose mistrust of the Galra during the war had eventually extended even to her sister’s own former paladin, is no doubt another bitter blow to the festering wound of her hurt. But even through all that, her sister takes to this new arrangement with undeniable grace and dignity, and when the Blue paladin comes to Red, shaky and unsure, she wills herself to do the same. It is not as if she has never allowed Blue quintessence to share in her bond before. During the war, when missions went wrong and her paladin was injured, there had been no time to consider who piloted her, so long as it got her precious paladin back to a place with medical attention. They had all flown her, once, when it was necessary— Blue, green, yellow, black, even Alfor, in his role as rotating substitute for a downed paladin. This… This is different, though. This is not one quick flight to the castle or one battle with another at her helm while her paladin is healed. This is, at the very least, a semi-permanent arrangement. She will have to share her bond with this paladin for weeks, potentially months or years, an indefinable amount of time until the black paladin is found. And that… That leaves her unsure, to say the least. She does not know what she expects when the blue paladin finally enters her cockpit, carefully seating himself in the pilot’s seat and untangling the strings of his semi-severed bond with Blue, offering them to her. She has known this presence before, has known sweetness and devotion from gentle hands that guided her controls on a few rare occasions and through the strings of the bond by the love her former paladin had held for his blue counterpart. That said, through that she has also known spitfire energy and competitiveness, unending loyalty that makes for an impressive soldier, and this is what she reaches for, the pieces of Blue that she knows are most like her own flames, similar enough to find some common ground. She has seen this child through Keith’s eyes, knows that in his loud taunts and posturing glares the same energy must be there, surely. Instead, she finds only closed walls and emptiness, bleak and monochrome no matter where she searches, and Red is reminded once again that the past is not always quite like the present. The blue paladin is… Off. Surprisingly blank, easy and accepting of her fire in a way that speaks to a competent pilot for her, but not returning it in a way that makes him an acceptable paladin. She pushes him as gently as she can muster, more used to sharp thoughts and demands when communicating with her paladins, but knowing that this may work out better with a paladin more used to her sister’s form of communication, and is met with only vague confusion. The fire, however dim or small beneath the waves of Blue, that she searches for cannot be found, and yet, in searching for it, she is not drowned in blue, in calmness and intuition and blinding faith, as she would expect. She only finds the boy’s consciousness parting quietly for her, not completely shut off, yet guarded enough to deny her what she seeks. There is nothing here, in what he offers her. He is… grey, empty, and Red is not sure if this is simply what he is, or a mental map of his own making, exhibiting a surprising amount of control over the workings and access of the bond. Either way, it is one part fascinating, one part terrifying, and she does not know what to make of it. Again, she pushes him, deliberate and strong, demanding his fire, or at the very least, his ocean. You do not want me. The boy rings back at her with shocking clarity, a much more subtle, controlled, and metaphorically verbal form of communication than she is used to, when compared to the darting, unfiltered thoughts of Keith. I’m just making this easier for you. No, she thinks, she does not want him, any more than he wants her. She wants Keith, just as this child wants Blue, but that does not mean there is something inherently wrong with him, and she refuses to have a pilot who will not allow her honesty in their bond. If she must accept this arrangement, it will at the very least be on her terms. She shoves firmly at the bond, again and again, until the boy relents ever so slightly, echoes of stop it just stop it this is easier trickling through with the first grasps of the ocean of blue, of love and faith and loyalty. More than anything, though, she tastes droplets of sorrow, of insecurity and grief and hopelessness, and she balks at them. It is not that she is unfamiliar with these, she has known them in her paladins, has felt them in herself, but they are always prefaced and overwhelmed by anger, by a need to do something to stop the reoccurrence of these emotions, and in this boy she feels none of that. She searches, but she finds no anger. Only numbed acceptance. Where is your fire? She asks again, prodding, because everyone has fire, this she knows with certainty, regardless of whether it burns as strong or as bright as her own or her paladin’s, and the child gives her what she approximates is the mental equivalent of a shrug. That is not an answer, she tells him firmly, and the first, ever-so-satisfying licks of irritation crawl up the fragile bond. I don’t have any. I’m not Keith. She can’t help but be confused by that. Of course this boy is not Keith— His skin is darker and his hair is lighter, his mind is more analytically structured, and he does not glow with the same bright crackles of energy that her first paladin did, as Keith does. What little of this paladin, that she can grasp, tastes more like what she knew of the former blue paladin, who was honest and obnoxiously self-sacrificing and an incredibly capable paladin, just not Red’s. She does her best to convey this to the boy, and he pushes back with one part confusion and one part further irritation, the emotional, wordless style she prefers for communication clearly new and jarring to him. Beyond these trickles of his current feelings, and the barest grasps of the ocean of his quintessence, he still holds the wall between them, and she finds herself shoving back at it with her own distinct frustration. Not being Keith does not preclude you from having your own fire, she communicates to him as best she can, carefully trying to spell out the words rather than just burn the boy with her thoughts. He offers her a refusal again, and she loses the last of her patience, shoving against the child’s wall firmly and pushing past the tendrils of oceans that snake past. Everyone has fire, she tells him. Not me. I have seen your anger through my paladin’s eyes, you have fire. Is that what fire is? She offers something of a fleeting affirmative, continuing to search along the delicate stretches of the bond, and the child, perhaps recognizing the futility of his withdrawal, relents, still not offering his mind to her, but at least allowing her fairly unfettered entry. Red combs through it, catching faint waves of sorrowfrustrationworry and lovedacceptancesacrifice, but the anger, the passion and fire, still elude her. She knows its taste perfectly, mixes of bitterness and vengeance and passionate justice, the flames of half-breed children abandoned and left to fend for themselves, alive at the smell of iron and steel, desperate to cling to what little they can claim for themselves. This is what she seeks, chasing the tendril strands of obsession and jealousy and irritation she picks up on in search for her prize, and yet she keeps coming up blank. Stop hiding from me, she scolds him, and he pushes back with annoyance. I’m not! I don’t know what you’re looking for! She growls, shoving the memories of the feelings she seeks, the ones that she found in Keith and her first paladin, onto the boy, and he shudders under the weight of them. Why he is so stalwart yet passive in his mind confuses her to no end— She has seen this child through Keith’s eyes, has witnessed the burning passion and bright soul that so draws her paladin to him, and she shows that to the boy, asking him for that flame she has caught glimpses of second-hand. He unfurls hesitantly, her memories of Keith catching his attention, and she sighs out into the space between their shared consciousness. Of course this would be what gets the child’s focus, why wouldn’t it be? The former blue paladin had loved her first paladin as much as he had her, and it is not surprising in the least that this one would find Keith as intriguing as Keith did him. The boy hesitates, his mind flickering over her memories of Keith, half unsure, half disbelieving, and she tries again, asking for his fire in her feelings of Keith, of his bravery and bullheadedness and her desire to protect him at all costs, her fears and her doubts and how they are overtaken primarily by her desire to fight for him, to keep him safe from what she knows can happen. He answers with uncertain emotion, finally beginning to speak to her in her language of crackling flickers of information and searing images that burn away fast. He offers her his worry, his doubts, the slow trickles of inadequacy and nervousness she grasped in the beginning in wavy lines solidifying into clear thoughts, distinct feelings and personality traits. Do you really have no fire? No one you will protect, that your heart burns for? She asks at length, endeavoring to be patient just one more time in her infinitely long life, despite swearing it off, for the sake of teaching this boy to do something he is capable of, and for the sake of ensuring she can continue to protect Keith through this child, if he will let her. Slowly, ever so slowly, the boy’s flickering streams of ocean part, and she catches the first flickers of fire, dancing along the bond and blending into her own, faint and quiet compared to the roaring inferno of fury and love and aimless grace that is Keith, but present nonetheless. The anger there is sparking and light, little and petty and formed of long-held wounds and largely ignored by the boy, a marked difference to her Keith, and to her original paladin, who both rode on bonfires of righteous fury and long-held bitterness for past slights inflicted on them as children, when they could not fight back. Instead, the boy’s flame burns softly, the devotion and loyalty she would expect of one of Blue’s translating into passion and protection, the fire of instinct and fight-or-flight responses in the face of danger, most predominantly to others, accompanied by faint wisps of her Keith, the other paladins, the Altean princess and her advisor, and a multitude of humans with the child’s tan skin and dark hair and sparse patches of freckles. The fire burns, and she catches it all within her own, feeling the boy’s ocean settle around it, taking in the hopes and wonders and joys, the grief for things long left behind on Earth that cannot be returned to or brought back, the fears of inadequacy and failure and loss, the childhood dreams of stars and companionship and adventure, the flickering, hesitant affection for her Keith, unsure and unsteady, but undeniable. And beneath it all, there are the flames of devotion and protectiveness and all the things Red knows in her core as a being of instinct and quintessence, but cannot hope to put into words, burning for Voltron, for the yellow paladin and his childhood-remembered grin, for girls turned women with long legs and boney shoulders and crooked teeth, for teenagers of long-earned friendships with bright minds and messy hair, for a woman with a loud, sunny voice and wide hips, for a ghost of a memory with eyes that glimmer like the child’s within her cockpit. The same fire of lovehopefearterror that burns for her whenever she feels the coils of Keith along the bond she shares with him, her miraculous, impossible Keith, the answer to her prayers and the return of the heart she thought she lost ten thousand years ago, dark hair like a child warrior long gone and a fierce spirit she would recognize in any form. Just like she would recognize the protective, bright, sea-spray sweet love of the blue paladin anywhere. Yes, she thinks, as she tastes the light fire of the boy in her cockpit, perhaps this will work after all. The boy is not Keith, but he will be… is acceptable, for the time being. Lance. The boy offers her softly over the bond, and she accepts the admission carefully, recognizing the first true piece of information he has distinctly volunteered to her. Lance. Yes. Lance will do nicely.
10790568	Twisted Romance	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Barbara Kean, Tabitha Galavan", "Fandom": "Gotham (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Melime", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-01T00:00:00", "words": "100", "Additional Tags": "Drabble, Community: femslashficlets", "Relationship": "Tabitha Galavan/Barbara Kean", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "femslashficlets", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Barbara was damaged goods, that’s what everyone seemed to think, that she was broken in an unfixable way and should be locked up, key thrown away. Everyone except for Tabitha, that is. Tabitha was even more twisted than Barbara was, and that was quite a feature. That’s why Barbara kept coming back, only with Tabitha she could be herself, and the mood to commit some murders wouldn’t be met with judgment, but with enthusiastic support and participation. It was like they were made for each other, and if Barbara was damaged, then Tabitha was as well, in the same way.
10785171	The First Trial	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Lloyd Garmadon, Morro (Ninjago)", "Fandom": "LEGO Ninjago", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by whichlights", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-01T00:00:00", "words": "778", "Additional Tags": "i just asked if morro could do spinjitzu and got 4 different answers ITS A YES OR NO QUESTION, Missing Scene, Season/Series 05, mmm this doesnt make logical sense but its fun so who cares, Sad, Masters of Spinjitzu, in which lloyd suffers, and this is why we dont let me rewatch episodes at midnight after watching 20 conspiracy theories, Angst, Complete", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	"The tomb of the first Spinjitzu master." Morro hummed as he walked through the door. It closed behind him, locking him in a room with sixteen doors, with a symbol above each one.Morro would bet any amount of money that the stubborn terrible ninja were right behind him. They were persistent like that. Why wouldn't they just die and make Morro's job ten times easier? As it was, he needed to be quick. He glanced down at the Sword of Sanctuary, looking for an answer. "Oh come on." He growled when the sword just sent his reflection back. "You useless piece of metal!"The sword was actually quite useful, obviously, but it wasn't good at picking out which door to enter. Morro frowned, trying to remember whatever old riddle Bansha had told him would help him move forward. Morro hadn't really listened- obviously the sword would guide him.The sword was not guiding him!A Spinjitzu master can. A Spinjitzu master Morro is not. To move forward, use the kid you possessed to do the trials for you to find his resting spot. Morro was pretty sure the riddle went something like that.Morro shuddered. He hated doing this. Made the back of his neck itch. As it was, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to float out into ghost form. A series of dry coughs followed, and Morro opened his eyes, staring distastefully at the so called green ninja. Once again, rage swept through Morro. It should have been him. Lloyd looked up at him, and swung a punch. Morro dodged, and yawned. "Well, that was pathetic.""What do you want?" Lloyd spat. Surprisingly fierce. But the longer I possess him, the weaker he gets. This better be quick."You're going to help me." Morro said with a smile. Lloyd tried to stand up, and failed pretty miserably. "You know, if you attack again, I won't even have to use the sword. You're useless." Morro scoffed. "Look, kid-""Don't call me kid." Morro raised an eyebrow. "Kid," he continued, "I don't have all day. You see these guys on the doors? If you move around fast enough, they'll make an image. Which is going to be one of the images on these doors. Which is probably the door that won't lead us to certain death.""I know." Lloyd said, and Morro wanted to roll his eyes. Give it up, hot shot, you are in no position to fight back or be snappy. "Then you also know I don't have the time to figure out Spinjitzu. Which is why you're going to do it for me. Go Spinjitzu me a door.""Why would I do that?"Morro put on his most patient smile. "Because you are weak, and I have a sword." Morro put the edge of said sword on Lloyd's neck. "Your choice."Lloyd looked him in the eyes, unafraid. Morro resented him for stealing his destiny, but he had to give the kid kudos for bravery. "Okay, how about this, if you don't do it, I'll just take the time to figure it out myself. I've seen inside your head. So, again, your choice. You can be a martyr if you really want to, but it won't save your friends."When Lloyd didn't answer, Morro continued. "I know you're holding out for rescue. They won't be able to save you, because when they walk through that door I'll slit your throat. Or possess you again, so you can see what happens next. I'll offer them each a chance to Spinjitzu, and if they refuse I'll just kill them. And I know they'll refuse, because they're good people like that. Zane goes first, he's too analytical, he'll find a way to thwart me and we can't have that. Next is Jay, he's so annoying. Then Cole, it might be fun to see a ghost that isn't on my side die. And then last but not least, Kai-""Stop. Alright, I'll do it." Lloyd closed his eyes. "Just help me up."Morro offered him a hand, and pulled him to his feet. Then he stepped back and watched as Lloyd was surrounded by a sparkling green vortex. It only lasted a few seconds before Lloyd collapsed on the ground, coughing and holding his head. "You were right, it made a shape." He coughed. Hm, maybe that wasn't too healthy for him. Whatever. "What shape?" Morro demanded.Lloyd looked around, and pointed weakly. "Thanks." Morro said, and he saw Lloyd's eyes widen for a second.Then there was a familiar second of blackness.Then Morro opened his eyes, and cracked his neck. He walked through the door.
10701594	Goodnight Messiah	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Three Dog, Female Lone Wanderer, Lone Wanderer", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by lxmonadx", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-22T00:00:00", "words": "406", "Additional Tags": "Monologue, Radio, Canonical Character Death", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	"Hey there, Capital Wasteland. This is Three Dog coming to you live from Galaxy News Radio with a bit of bad news. "Now, I know all of my faithful listeners have heard me talk about that kid from Vault 101. Some of you have even had the pleasure of being able to meet her. I know I have, and I'll always be grateful to her and all the good she's done."Well, I'm sad to inform you that she recently passed away. She was nineteen years old and left behind no family."The Lone Wanderer, as she came to be known, was born out here in the wasteland to her parents Catherine and James. Immediately following her birth, her mother died. Her father then found refuge for the two of them in Vault 101. She lived there for nineteen years, believing that she had been born there. However, at the end of those nineteen years, her dad left the vault, and, despite his requests for her to stay, she followed him."During her search for her dad, she found out about a project that she always believed was only a dream of her mother's. But it was real, and it was for you."The project was 'Project Purity,' and it was exactly that. Her mother's dream was clean water for everyone. It had to be abandoned, but it was picked back up by James and a team of scientists. After braving the harsh wasteland and dangerous enemies, the vault kid was reunited with her dad and began working to make the dream a reality."Then the Enclave got involved."The Enclave came and crashed the whole project, aiming to take everything over. In his final act of saving his daughter, James sacrificed himself, leaving her with the options to abandon everything, or take it back. She chose to fight the Enclave."After her dad's death, she teamed up with the Brotherhood of Steel. With the help of some of the best men they have to offer, she braved a vault with a shady past, being kidnapped by the Enclave, an all-out battle involving a big fucking robot, and then her own death."Capital Wasteland, she died for us. She sacrificed herself so we can have clean, radiation-free water. Everything she did was for us. I hope you always remember that."Kid, if you can hear me right now, thank you. Rest in peace. Three Dog out."
10755597	Close Shave	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Barsad (Dark Knight Rises), Bane (DCU)", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by teacuphuman", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-28T00:00:00", "words": "3,789", "Additional Tags": "Barbershop fic, clandestine meetings, finding what you didn't know you were looking for, Alternate Universe, Kind Of", "Relationship": "Bane/Barsad", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Batman (Movies - Nolan), The Dark Knight Rises", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Barsad is closing up when he notices the man through the gap in the blinds. He’s lurking across the street, face hidden in the shadow cast by the building in front of him. Barsad has already swept the floor and oiled his blades, and if he lets the man in he’ll have to do it all over again. He sighs just as the man looks up, his eyes catching the light of a street lamp and zeroing in on Barsad. A shiver goes through him and before he knows what he’s doing he’s crossing the small shop and unlocking the door. He turns around and waits. It’s been three months since the man’s last visit and Barsad can’t help the thrill he feels now that he’s come back. He had first appeared outside Barsad’s small barbershop a year ago, emerging from the shadows in the moment between Barsad turning the open sign to closed and him locking the door. He was wild looking and large, his beard a frazzled mess, his clothes wrinkled and patched. It was his eyes that drew Barsad in the beginning. Serious and wary, they watched every move Barsad made, leading him to believe the man’s true purpose was a robbery. Barsad had been feeling a little tempered and obsolete lately, so he figured he would at least let the man try. But the man didn’t pull a weapon or try to intimidate Barsad, he simply lowered the hood of his coat and looked pointedly at Barsad’s only chair. He never said a word when Barsad nodded and relocked the door; just stood there, watching, his sea-green eyes never wavering, not even when Barsad washed and trimmed his hair. Even with hot, wet towels draped over the man’s head and face, Barsad could feel his gaze. The door opens with a soft snick, the bolt loud in the silence of the shop when the man turns the lock. Barsad hears him removing his coat and he closes his eyes, unsure when their ritual began to feel intimate. He hasn’t even touched the man yet, and already his heart is speeding up, his nerves buzzing beneath his skin. He goes to the wash station, giving the man a small, flat smile. It’s been a long time between visits, and the man’s boots have more scuffs, his coat a mended tear that hadn’t been there last time, but his hair is clean and he still smells of ozone and fresh dirt. Barsad runs his fingers through thick brown hair, mourning the loss before he’s even made the first cut. The man wants it shaved off, this he knows by now, and there’s no use arguing, that he learned early on. It’s a curious thing to him, how this severe man with his deliberate movements and cautious eyes can speak so loudly without ever saying a word. Most men who sit in his chair never shut up, taking his own silence as interest as they tell him the stories of their lives, laying out weaknesses and secrets in turn, never fully understanding the weight it places on the one they’re telling. Barsad could do dangerous things with information like that. Once upon a time he did. He washes the man’s hair, going through a phonebook’s worth of names in his head, trying to find something that fits the imposing man who has folded himself into the wash chair and is watching Barsad with keen eyes. He’d made it to M last time the man was in but he’s yet to hit on anything that sounds right. He could ask, of course, but that feels like cheating. Besides, he doubts the man would tell him anyway. He rubs a towel through the man’s hair and pulls out his clippers. The hair falls in clumps on the floor, decorating Barsad’s shoes as he works his way over the man’s hair and face, leaving a quarter of an inch of bristle for the straight blade. Towels from the gas-powered warmer go on next, covering most of the man’s face and scalp. Barsad lightly trails his fingers over the man’s weathered skin as he wraps him, making sure to leave plenty of space around the eyes so the man can see him. Barsad takes out the broom and sweeps up the hair on the floor, feeling the man’s eyes on him as he moves about the room. It had taken a few visits, but Barsad was now able to turn his back on the man without feeling vulnerable. Logically, he knows the man could attack at any minute, but he trusts him not to now. It’s strange, to trust a man you’ve never spoken to, but Barsad has encountered far stranger things in his life and isn’t about to question his instincts. He strops his razor, running the blade along the leather until the edge is even, then he prepares the shaving cream, using a mix with lanolin from wool fat, its clean scent filling the room as soon as he opens the container. He removes the towels, from the man’s head, dropping them into the sink and pausing. Normally, he uses a badger brush to distribute the cream, the bristles of the brush lifting the hair to ensure a closer shave, but there’s something about tonight that feels different. The man’s eyelids have lowered and though he’s clearly still paying attention to Barsad, his body hasn’t tensed at the pause in his movements. Barsad scoops out the cream with his fingers, working the thick paste between them to soften and warm it, then he spreads it over the man’s head. The hair prickles Barsad’s skin, but it’s worth it when Barsad rubs behind the man’s ear, near the base of his skull, and is rewarded with a low growl. It’s not a warning, he’s sure, because the man pushes into it, his lashes fluttering when Barsad presses harder. His breath matches the steady rise and fall of the man’s, but his heart kicks up a notch. He’s reluctant to stop touching, but this part of his task in done and the man is ready for the blade. He washes his hands and dips the razor into a bowl of hot water, heating it before he tilts the man’s head back further and does the first swipe. Barsad works on autopilot, moving the man’s head this way and that, careful not to knick the skin. One of the nice things about using the straight razor is how the weight of it is all that’s needed to get the job done. He guides the blade, but it’s the true labourer, easily clearing cream and hair from the man’s head until it’s gleaming and smooth. He wipes off the remnants of cream with another hot towel and runs an alum stick over the man’s scalp, sealing any miniscule nicks Barsad can’t see. He applies a red cedar balm after that, the man grumbling lightly again, and Barsad almost sighs at the heat that starts to pool in his groin. He does the same thing fifteen to twenty times a day, but it’s never felt like this before. He’s never wanted to crawl into someone’s lap and just touch . The man’s body is large and strong, and Barsad wants to explore it. Wants to push, and pull, and see how much the man can take and then he wants it done back to him in turn. It’s a surprise to him, how much he wants. His wife has been gone for over a decade, and though Barsad has had others in his bed, none of them have made him crave attention the way this man has. He wants to press against the man’s arm where it’s resting on the chair, rub himself along all of that firm, tanned skin, until it breaks him. The man makes a questioning noise and Barsad realizes he’s paused with his hands on the back of the man’s neck. His breath has grown heavy and he has to adjust himself before he can continue. He takes a deep, quiet breath and unwraps the lower portion of the man’s face, those seafoam eyes watching him closely. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it’s humour he sees in them as they rake over his body. There is something there, though; of that he’s sure. An interest in Barsad’s reaction, if nothing else, and he choses to let it embolden him instead of shame him. He spreads the cream with his fingers again, scrubbing the tips of his fingers over the wiry hair. The man’s lips are soft and lush where they’re not bisected by scars, and Barsad wants to feel them. Longs to follow the gnarled skin across the man’s face and over his body, mapping all the wounds he’s survived and sharing his own. Not a competition, but a kinship in knowing the horrors that humankind can perpetrate. The blade clinks against the basin, but Barsad’s hands don’t shake when he leans it into the man’s cheek, pulling the skin taut and dragging the razor along the grain, the dull rasping sound a soothing melody to his electrified nerves. He finally gets to touch the man’s lips when he shaves his upper lip, pressing his thumb into the man’s pronounced philtrum and cutting away the hair in short strokes. He leaves his thumb there a few seconds longer than is necessary, staring at where his callused digit indents the rosy hue of the lip, turning it white under the pressure. His eyes flick up to the man’s and there’s hunger there, something dark and heated that he’s never seen before. It makes him shudder, goosebumps rising on his arms and scalp, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Barsad pulls away and clears his throat, tilting the man’s head up to lengthen his neck. He’s careful as he draws the blade over vulnerable skin. The man’s hands grip the arms of the chair, and this Barsad understands all too well. He was sixteen the first time someone tried to kill him. Young, but not naive, simply distracted by his own work, which allowed the woman to step up behind him, slipping the thin wire around his neck. He’d gotten his fingers between the garrote and his throat, but not before she’d started to pull. It was a miracle he had any feeling in the fingers on his right hand and he made sure his scarf was always in place to hide the scar the wire had left behind. He wishes he had the ability to wear his wounds like the man does; on display as a warning and a message. That many have tried, but none have succeeded in bringing him down. No, Barsad’s strength has always lain in blending in. No one asks questions of a man they cannot see and this has served him well. This man, though, draws notice wherever he goes, which is no doubt why he waits until Barsad is closed to come in. It would be so easy to attack him like this, to line up a lethal shot, or slit his long, thick throat as he sits exposed. But for some reason he trusts Barsad not to betray him. Even the first time he’d appeared, he didn’t threaten or warn Barsad before he let him put the blade to his flesh, simply watched closely and let Barsad do as he wished. It’s not something Barsad understands because he knows he could never put himself in the same position, but it’s an honour. To have the man’s considerable bulk and power under his fingertips, at the mercy of his blade, and not be treated as an enemy. Free to touch and manipulate as needed, free to draw the man’s true visage out of the mess of hair that obscures him. Unearthing the physical markers of the life he’s lived, the hardships he’s overcome, and to display them in harsh reality. It sends a shiver through Barsad, his cock lengthening at the raw intimacy of his actions. He cleans and lathers the man’s face again, pulling the razor across the grain on each pass, catching the spots he missed on the first shave. The man’s scars disrupt the hair growth, and Barsad knows he’ll need three complete shaves to ensure that it’s smooth. He falls back into habit, concentrating not on the stokes of the razor, the swish of the blade in the water as he cleans it, but on the living, breathing life under his hands. The heat of the man’s body and the perfect stillness of him as he submits to Barsad’s ministrations. He wonders darkly if the man would hold as still if it was Barsad’s cock that was dragging against his skin. Would the man open his beautiful, broken mouth and take Barsad in, or would he use his strength to take the power for himself? The third time he applies the cream, Barsad cannot hide the panting breaths rushing in and out of his mouth, his heart beating a quick tattoo when the man’s hand brushes against his stomach, quick and light, and anything but accidental. He doubts anything the man does isn’t by design and it sends a shock of lust through him. His blade is steady and quick, moving against the grain until he’s cleared the cream and the man’s face is as smooth as his head, pink and wet like the mouth Barsad wants so badly to explore. He uses the alum block again and then a cool towel to seal the pores, allowing the skin to air dry. He gathers the aftershave balm in his hands, spreading the cool cream around his palms, and beside him the man’s legs fall open. Barsad’s gaze snaps to the wide thighs, spread enough that Barsad could slip right between them. The man reaches out slowly, dragging the second knuckle of his index finger over the bulge in Barsad’s pants. His eyes hold a hint of questioning in them, the whisper of a dare, and Barsad has never been one to shy away from a challenge. He steps around the chair and onto the footrest between the man’s feet, gracefully sliding his knee between the man and the side of the chair. There isn’t much room for him, but the man closes his legs and slouches a little to make space, letting out a small sigh once Barsad is straddling his lap. Barsad smooths the balm over the man’s face, taking time to massage it into his skin and letting his fingers roam. There are over a dozen scars on the man’s face and Barsad touches them all, smoothing his rough fingers over their silvery edges. One day he’ll enjoy spreading the man out and tracing them all with his tongue, soothing the aches they’ve left behind and worshiping the fortitude they’ve left in their wake. The man grips the back of Barsad’s thighs, pulling him closer and groaning when Barsad’s cock rubs against his own through the fabric of their pants. His hand moves tentatively up Barsad’s back to his neck, urging him down. Barsad takes the invitation and surges into the kiss, eager to finally, finally taste him. The man kisses back hesitantly, growing more confident when Barsad’s tongue slips into his mouth and slides wetly against his own. Barsad whimpers into the kiss, quickly becoming addicted to the way the man feels under him. Coiled energy and powerful force held carefully in check because he thinks Barsad fragile. But Barsad is anything but that and when the man’s fingers tighten on the back of his neck, Barsad grinds down, gasping at the friction. He keeps his own touches gentle, mindful of pressing too hard on the man’s scars. His own are tender and bring forth a dull, unnerving pain when depressed, and so he slicks his tongue across the man’s lips, an apology for any pain he’s caused with his eagerness. The man brings his thick fingers to Barsad’s groin, tracing the outline of his cock and rubbing over the wet spot at the tip. Barsad keens, pushing into it, his own hand reaching for the man’s pants. He hums with pleasure when Barsad pulls him out, his considerable member hot and smooth in Barsad’s hands. His mouth starts to water, relishing the ache his jaw would suffer while fitting it in his mouth. The man is uncommonly large, almost as thick around as Barsad’s wrist, and more than half the length of his forearm, leaking precome from the slit and arching slightly to the left. He’s uncut and Barsad rubs the foreskin between his thumb and index fingers, making the man’s hips arch out of the chair, his hand pressing almost painfully against Barsad’s trapped cock. The man opens Barsad’s pants with shaking fingers and Barsad takes it as a personal victory when he twists his wrist and the man groans, his hands falling away from their task. His cock throbs when it hits the open air, the man’s large hands covering it from root to tip, working him slow and thorough. Barsad’s breath hitches and the man growls, crushing them together and wrapping Barsad’s hands around them both, covering it with one of his own. His other hand rests on the small of Barsad’s back, urging him to thrust into the tight hold around their cocks. It’s hot and slick, and the man’s thumb is settled in the gap between his own, rubbing at the ridge along the head of Barsad’s cock, sending sparks through him. The man’s hand slips under Barsad’s waistband, fingers dipping into the top of his cleft before moving on to clench around a handful of flesh. His fingers are blunt, his grip unforgiving, and Barsad knows he’ll have bruises there in the morning. The thought spurs him on, bucking faster into their hands and panting into the man’s neck as he leans over him. The man presses in close, mouthing at the curve of Barsad’s shoulder where his shirt has gone askew. Slowly, carefully, he sets his teeth to the sensitive skin over Barsad’s clavicle and bites down with force. Barsad cries out and comes, blinding white light obscuring his vision as he spills over their hands. The man’s grips tightens on them, speeding up to draw every last drop out of him while Barsad shakes in his lap. He’s panting when he comes down, his skin slicked with sweat, the man’s hand still covering his, jerking slowly. Barsad meets his gaze and sees nothing but need there, so he shimmies off the man’s lap. There’s no room to kneel on the footrest, so he steps to one side, leaning down to replace his hands with his mouth on the man’s cock. He’s covered in Barsad’s come, his shaft sticky with it, and Barsad licks him clean, lapping at every inch while the man’s breath grown high and loud. He has to open as wide as he can to take him in, the corners of his mouth protesting at the stretch, but the first taste of precome on his tongue has him moaning, all discomfort swept away by the man’s hand scratching against his scalp, urging him down further. Barsad is full, so full, and he can’t help but thank whatever power in the universe sent this man to him. He gorges himself on his cock, pulling him deep until his throat is protesting, and then a little further, his air cut off and spit dripping down him chin. The man groans and pulls him off, allowing Barsad to suck in a hurried breath before pressing him back down. His hands are gentle, but firm on Barsad’s head and neck, and it’s so fulfilling, the man’s reactions so genuine, that Barsad can’t bear to think of the man leaving after this. He needs to feel the man’s hands on him everywhere, feel the power in his thrust as he fits himself inside Barsad, solid and unrelenting between his thighs. The man lets out a choked gasp, holding Barsad still as his mouth fills with come, the syrupy saltiness of it cutting off all his senses until he can pull back far enough to swallow. He bobs his head, his tongue gathering every trace of it before pulling off. He presses his cheek the the man’s hip, his scent strong and familiar now, his skin warm and moist. He stands slowly, his breath still coming in gasps, and tucks himself back into his pants. The man follows his lead, pulling his wallet out as soon as he’s on his feet. He taps the side of his head with his fingers and lays the money out on the counter, just like always. Barsad smirks, secretly relieved that the man had taken care to ensure Barsad knew the money wasn’t an insult. The man picks up his coat, shrugging his broad shoulders into the thick wool, settling it into place. Barsad’s throat feels tight, words trying to choke their way out. He doesn’t know what to say to keep the man here, has no idea if they even speak the same language, but he knows if the man leaves, he’ll never be back. They’ve crossed a line tonight, made each other vulnerable in a way neither intended, and once he’s had time to think about it, Barsad knows the man won’t take the same chance twice. The lock startles him, loud as a gunshot in the heavy silence of the shop, and Barsad takes a step forward, reaching out. The man stills, his back is turned, but he’s watching Barsad closely in the window’s reflection. Barsad meets his stormy eyes in the glass and drops his hand. “Stay,” he offers quietly, his voice low and gruff from use. He receives no response, but the man averts his stormy eyes, staring instead through the blinds at the world outside the shop. Barsad doesn’t have much to offer him, has given it all away already, he’s sure, but he can’t let the man go without at least trying to keep him. He owes himself that, he thinks. After years of solitude and penance, he might just deserve a little comfort for himself. He thinks the man might as well. The lock tumbles into place again and the man turns to Barsad, his eyes cautious, but clear. Barsad lets out his breath and attempts a smile. It feels brittle and awkward on his face, but the man nods, reaching out to grasp him by the back of the neck. He bends, placing a softly tentative kiss to Barsad’s lips, and Barsad’s smile grows, blooming into a gentle and honest secret between them.
10786518	There Were Some Things	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Remus Lupin, Severus Snape", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by Socketeer", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2007-06-13T00:00:00", "words": "628", "Additional Tags": "Romance, Dark, Erotica, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "The Quidditch Pitch", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	There were some things Severus liked.Finding Remus waiting when he got back to his chambers for the evening was one of them.It was such a simple thing really. When left in the morning, Remus was just getting out of bed. All day, in the back of his mind, Severus would worry. Would today be the day? Would one of the few Death Eaters who'd escaped decide to strike back at one of the most visible of the old order's members?Each night Severus would enter his chambers and find Remus waiting. He would listen to him rant about the obstructionists in he ministry who were trying to block the repeal of some barbaric law. He would listen to him positively gloat about the way Granger-Weasley punctured some blowhard's argument with nothing but a bit of logic and the cold hard facts.Remus would listen to him grumble, rather to loudly, about what a bunch of dunderheads he had to teach. Remus would smile indulgently and pretend to believe he hated his students.It was warm. It was comfortable. It reminded him of home. At least, home when his father had been away.There were some things Severus liked.Having a bit of a lie in on Sunday morning was one of them. That particular Sunday morning, he didn't wake up until half past nine. It was an almost sinful indulgence, but three extra hours of sleep was wonderful when he didn't have a class to teach. Not to mention he could curl up and use Remus as a pillow.There were some things Severus liked.And hot, steamy showers were one of them. The way the warmth wrapped thickly around him. The way the hot water left reddened trails on his skin where ever it went. They way his muscles seemed to melt in the heat.There were some things Severus liked.Like Remus slipping into the shower behind him. He signed in contentment as Remus started working the shampoo into his hair. Strong fingers massaged his scalp as Remus worked up a lather.He tilted his head back and let Remus rinse his hair and start on the conditioner. The first time Remus had purchased a bottle, he'd been offended. Until he realized it would mean more time with Remus' hands in his hair.There were some things Severus liked.The way Remus massaged him as he worked the soap over his skin was high on the list. Remus' strong, sure hands worked the knots out of his muscles. Remus always started at the top, working his neck and shoulders. Then Remus lips would follow his hands down Severus back, over his arse, down his legs, and back up his front.There were some things Severus liked.Remus slipping his tongue under Severus' foreskin for example. Remus knew what it did to him. Knew it turned him on more and more. Knew it made him whimper and moan and gasp. Remus knew he could do if for hours, because no matter how turned on Severus got, he just couldn't come until Remus touched his shaft.There were some things Severus liked.The fact that Remus could take his whole length in his mouth was one of them. The slow, sensual strokes. The occasional touch of a tongue. They way Remus gently squeezed his balls at just the right moment.The way Remus moaned as he swallowed.There were some things Severus liked.The feel of Remus sliding roughly into his arse. Remus' fingers digging into his hips. Fast, deep thrusts. Getting fucked quick and hard under the hot spray. Remus' moans as he came.Being held tightly afterwards.Remus telling him he loved him.There were some things Severus liked, and one man he loved.
10748040	Once there was a	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": "Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug), Chat Noir (Miraculous Ladybug), Papillon \| Hawk Moth", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by claudiacarranza", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-27T00:00:00", "words": "99", "Additional Tags": "Didnt start out a fanfic, One word story, family time!", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Miraculous Ladybug, Lollirock", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	There once was a ladybug family who sold the farm. All of the superheros fought the property Cat Noir character for gold. Justice was thrwarted by Hawk Moth when he kicked Simon Says's balls. Cat Noir giggled. Ahlaura cried. Superman flew Ladybug away into a building cancelling the show forever. Cat Noir's screams echoed across the Arc du Triumph. The superheroes surrendered and died. Television was never the same, but ratings plummeted until Ladybug resurrected adult movies with the power the change into a rock star. Lolly Rock became cancelled too. Tahlia sang cheesy lovesongs. Iris wrote terrible puns.
10768164	Past Hauntings	{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Original Female Character(s), Vincent Valentine, Cloud Strife, Tifa Lockhart, Cid Highwind, Alessa Gillespie, Dahlia Gillespie, Original Male Character(s), Reeve Tuesti, Yuffie Kisaragi, Barret Wallace, Red XIII \| Nanaki, Angeal Hewley, Pyramid Head, Shera (Compilation of FFVII)", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by FairyRose95", "chapters": "8/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-30T00:00:00", "words": "11,848", "Additional Tags": "Angst, Horror, Psychological Horror, Crossover, Blood and Gore, Past Child Abuse, Suspense, Dark, Past Rape/Non-con, Poor Cid, Really poor everyone, Minor Character Death", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Final Fantasy VII, Silent Hill (Video Game Series)", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	It had been a normal day for them, at least, normal for their standards so to speak. The kids were running around in the closed bar, chased after a crazed ninja on the loose. A large red dog lay underneath one of the diner tables, watching the rampant kids with it's one good eye. A robotic cat lay immobilized atop said table, it's bearded owner sipping lazily on a cup of tea quirking an eyebrow at the three blurs of black and brown. One chocobo-headed male stood behind the bar, watching with cool vibrant blue eyes as the last occupant stood stiffly in the corner of the room, glaring any who dared near him with his unnerving red eyes. Throughout all of this, warm chatter and pleasant smelling food wafted from the kitchen, followed by a loud grunt of anger and two sets of feminine laughter filling the air, giving the place a warm, crazy, ethereal home to a mismatched group of friends. "Food's ready!" Tifa popped her head out of the small window, a warm smile lighting her face at the sight of them all. Another head popped out as well, golden eyes twinkling in mischief, "Better come 'n' get some before Barret gets to it." Beth called to them, causing the three children to come to a halt in the middle of the room. The one at the end though appeared to have less grace than any of them and began to pinwheel her arms in hopes of gaining her balance, "W-WOAH!" The room echoed in laughter as the girl huffed in indignance, blowing a stray hair out of her face as she sat sprawled on the floor. "Guys!" She whined, "It isn't funny!" "And you call yourself a ninja." Reeve chuckled behind his cup of tea, hiding his smirk from the young girl who threw daggers at his direction. Yuffie huffed, "Well I'll have you know that I am the Greatest Ninj-" "OOO! This food is so damn good!" Barret called from the kitchen, guffawing in laughter as three sets of feet ran for the doorway and the kitchen then became a cacophony of sounds. Cloud began to follow Nanaki and Reeve into the kitchen only to glance over at the last remaining occupant in the room, "Not coming, Vincent?" He only received a grunt in reply so he merely shrugged and followed the rest into the kitchen. Vincent looked over at the archway, silently enjoying the sounds of his friend's laughter filling the air; yet, it wasn't complete. There was no smoke wafting around the room, no loud guffaws to meet Barret's, no loud slurred curses all lilted in that typical southern accent. That made one simple question appear in his mind that he had been asking himself since he arrived early this afternoon. Where exactly was the Chief? * It was late that evening. All the children had already gone to sleep (Yuffie included) and most of the rest had at least retired to their designated rooms. That left only three in the bar. The three were primarily silent in the large area. Vincent had never wavered from his spot, only now just turned slightly to look out the window at the sleeping town. Cloud was leaning against the bar, elbows rested on the counter-top as he lazily swirled his glass of whisky in his hands. Beth sat on one of the many bar-stools, one leg propped on a bar-stool with her arm resting atop it, her hand pressing the small PHS to her ear. A small curse emitted from her lips. "Damn it." She snapped the phone shut and set it atop the counter, "He didn't answer." "That's strange." Cloud mused monotonously and took a small sip of his amber drink, "Usually he'd let us know he isn't coming." Vincent grunted in reply. "Maybe he's running some shipments on the Shera," Beth shrugged, "Usually there's not that great of service over the Nibel Mountains." "That's right." Cloud snapped his fingers in acknowledgement, "I remember Reeve mentioning something about the Shera earlier this week." "Have you tried Ms. Shera's?" Vincent asked in his deep gravelly voice, one that many can tell hadn't been used all that long. Beth nodded, "Yeah. She didn't answer either." "Do either of you know his route?" The two by the bar exchanged looks before Cloud spoke, "If I recall correctly, Reeve said he was headed towards Icicle Inn." Beth hopped off the stool and over the counter, causing both of her comrades to raise eyebrows at her as she vanished underneath. They realized though what she was doing when she appeared once more, holding an old piece of parchment. "Okay." She fans out the paper and begins to map out the route only to stop, a confused hum emitting from her mouth. Vincent raised an eyebrow and was about to ask what has her so confused, but Cloud beat him to it. Beth looked up to the two, back down towards the map, and back up at the two, "How old is this map?" "Uh..." Cloud's eyes glazed over as they could practically see the cogs working inside his brain, "Five-six years?" Another confused hum escaped her again as she peered down at the map, "I've looked at this very map thousands of times, and never once had I seen this." Now that got Vincent's attention, and he and Cloud both wandered towards the doctor. Cloud peeked over her shoulder as Vincent did so over the counter, both looking at the two words that Beth's small finger was shakily pointing towards. Vincent ripped the map out of her grasp, No. NO. "Vince...?" If Chief's there... who knows what'll happen. Who knows if he'd even come back alive. "Vincent." How long had it been? Forty years? Forty or so years since he's stepped foot in that retched place. Never had he thought he'd go back. "Vin!" And now Cid may be there. Vincent tried to squash that absurd idea... but he knew that's where he was. The chills up and down his back testified to that. The two words were dancing in front of Vincent's eyes, as if taunting him into believing it. A heavy weight on his shoulder snapped him back to reality and he looked up to a pair of confused golden orbs, "Vin...?" Beth whispered. He looked down at the map and let out a shuddering breath, "What is it?" "This... place..." Vincent began to explain, "I've been there before." He glared at the two words. Oh how much he loathed this place. * They left early that morning, much to Vincent's dismay. He wanted to leave immediately, knowing what horrors await them in that town, but Beth and Cloud were adamant. They needed to let the others know where they were going and also needed a good nights sleep for what awaits them. They took a ferry from Kalm to Bone Village, seeing as Cid's destination was on another continent. It would have been much easier if they could've flown there... but their pilot was missing. He could be dead for all they knew. So that's how they ended up here. Cloud riding Fenrir in front with Beth in the passenger seat of her jeep asleep. Vincent sat in the back, looking out at the flurries of snow flying past. Of course he would have driven, but- "I hope Cid's okay." Tifa whispered behind the driver's seat. The barmaid was adamant on going with them to the town against all's wishes. She had a point though. If what was true about the town, they needed as many people as they can, yet at the same time, going to this town was a death sentence. Even if you came back alive, nightmares haunt you for the rest of your life. Vincent knew that well. He had nightmares before Hojo's experiments after all. Vincent merely grunted in reply, knowing the ex-doctor was asleep in the passenger seat. While they said they were going to get good nights sleep, Beth hardly got any. She never spoke as to why, but the bags under her eyes and the fear held within them spoke immediately to Vincent. She had had a nightmare too. His ears perked at the sound of hitched breathing in front of him and he averted his eyes from the window to the rousing female in front of him. Beth woke with a start, taking a sharp intake of breath as she whipped her head around the car. Tifa looked over in slight fright, "Beth? Are you okay?" She never responded, just continued looking out the front window as if she saw something. Something in the flurries of snow. She clutched onto the armrest. "We need to hurry." She whispered softly. Tifa raised an eyebrow as did Vincent, and as Tifa opened her mouth to reply, an ear-piercing screech filled the jeep, "TIFA, LOOK OUT!" Tifa's eyes shifted towards the front just as a figure walked in front. It was a male, bulky, dirty blond hair. If Vincent knew any better it was the very man they were looking for, but his clothes were off. He didn't have time to look as Tifa jerked the wheel suddenly and the screech of brakes filled the air. Vincent saw Beth fly into the front windshield and shatter it, the lithe female flying out of the car from the impact. Tifa rammed her head against the steering wheel just as his head rammed against the side of the window. Then everything turned black. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Beth awoke with a dull pain shooting up and down her left arm and the sight of small snow flurries drifting onto the asphalt. With a hiss, she attempted to sit up only for that same pain to multiply as she put pressure on it. She realized then that she couldn't move her left arm at all. Great. Clumsily she used her right to sit up straight, looking around for the rest of her companions. In front of her was Fenrir but no sign of Cloud anywhere. She didn't even have to look behind her to see who it was. Two sets of footsteps were running towards her. "Ohmygod, Beth! Are you okay?" Tifa frantically asked as she knelt in front of the other female. Beth nodded slowly but hissed as Tifa set her hand atop her left shoulder. "I think I dislocated my arm." She hissed through her teeth. Tifa immediately retracted her head, and instead went and pulled out a little piece of glass that was embedded in Beth's forehead. Beth hissed slightly and looked at the barmaid, "I need you to set it back." Tifa raised an eyebrow, "W-what?" "My arm," Beth gestured towards it, "I can't very well do it myself." "But Beth-" Before Tifa could even finish, Vincent had come up behind Beth and with a quick snap, set the shoulder back in place. Beth let out a high yelp, seeing stars appear in her vision. It was short-lived though as the pain subsided, and Beth could freely move her arm once more. "Thanks... a little heads up next time would be nice." Vincent let out a tiny snort before walking past the two, heading over to the abandoned cycle. Tifa quickly followed, yelling Cloud's name as she went and Beth slowly stood and took a look at her surroundings. She turned around to see her jeep off the side of the road. It was driveable and actually had no dents from anything. The only thing wrong with it was the large gaping hole where the windshield used to be. She turned to look where her friends went. It was a one way road, with a dense fog ahead nearly consuming Vincent and Tifa in it. Further down there was a large and looming shape overhead. If Beth knew any better it look an awful lot like... Beth began to run down the street, passing the two as she made her way to the abandoned airship and stopped short. The Shera lay abandoned in the middle of the street, her windows all busted out and large dents littered the belly of the ship. "Cid!" Beth called out as she hopped into the main deck of the Shera, bypassing shards of glass and puddles of blood... blood. "CID!" She called out, but was met with nothing, "SHERA!" She made it to the main console and stopped when she heard a hitch of breath to the left of her. She whipped around and looked to only find nothing. It was only when she began to look down did she find a massive puddle of blood... a puddle of blood staining a familiar white lab coat. Beth immediately knelt, "Shera." The woman was horribly injured. Her glasses were busted, hair astray, with sweat and blood coating her face as well. Blood stained the whole upper torso of the female and Beth could see the scientist was trying to hold her insides in. The doctor chased any thoughts away and immediately set to work on Shera, lightly moving the female's hand and replacing it with her own, channeling all her energy into curing the woman. She could hear Tifa yelling and Cloud's slow responses. She heard three sets of footsteps near her but she was too engrossed with the task at hand. Cloud stayed nearby as Tifa gasped and had to leave the area for a second. Vincent set about looking for any clues that may be of some use. Like as to what happened here. "Shera." Bethany whispered, straining all of her magical energy into the female, "What happened?" Shera coughed, blood pouring out of the corners of her mouth and onto her coat. Beth would've wiped away the tears that were forming in the woman's eyes but she was too preoccupied in saving her. "S-Sh..ip.. C-Crash...ed" Shera began to whisper, light coughs emitting in between but she continued, "M-Monsters..... k-kil...led... crew... Cid...." "Cid?" Cloud asked from above, wishing he had brought his cure materia as well, "Where is he?" "I-I..." "Shera..." Beth said softly, "Who did this to you?" The engineer's eyes widened and Cloud's as well, the man thinking that Shera's wound had come from the ship crash. But Beth had seen the wound. It was too clean to be from a wreckage, too much thought and skill was put into this fatal wound on the poor woman. Shera's breathing hitched as more blood came from her lungs, making Beth's pressure on her gaping wound increase. "C..." Beth and Cloud exchanged looks but Shera's eyes were widening, and her last words shell-shocked them. "C-Cid.....Cid.... did.... this..." * "Shera?! SHERA!" "Beth." Cloud grabbed the female and hoisted her up on her feet. Beth shook her head and reached down for her fallen comrade, but the ex-SOLDIER held her back, "No, Cloud! We have to save her!" "And what? There's nothing we can do." Cloud snapped, struggling with the mako-induced female. She was thrashing in his arms, trying in vain to get to Shera, "W-why not a Phoenix down? Then we can use our elixirs, and I still have my-" "Look at her!" Cloud snapped, forcing Beth to look at the scientist. "There's nothing we can do." Beth looked down at Shera's limp body; her face an ashen gray, blood had already began to dry around her mouth and form a large puddle atop her torso... her intestines lay outside of her body in a lump atop the metallic floor. Beth didn't want to think about it. Flashes of stray white feathers filled her vision and a lump caught in her throat. Just like him... I couldn't save her. Her vision blurred as tears threatened to fall, Can I not save anyone? The female shrugged Cloud's hand off but the ex-SOLDIER tightened his hold, "I'm fine." Beth snapped and yanked her arm out of his grasp, bypassing her other two friends who had come at the sound of their bickering. Beth could feel Tifa's stares lingering on her blood-stained hands and they clenched together in reply, "Let's go." She murmured and hopped off the ship, breathing the air out here to cool her rising temper. She wasn't necessarily mad at Cloud as the man did have a point, but the anger she has held against herself for so long just exemplified watching her best friend's wife die right in front of her eyes. And just like him, she couldn't do a thing about it. She sighed and for the first time took a good look at the road in front of her. A flash of red caused her eyebrows to quirk together and she turned to take a good look at the ship. The side of the ship was stained a crimson red and from here she can smell the metallic stench of blood waft in her nostrils. Beth's eyes followed the trail and saw as it continued down the road only to disappear in the dense fog that had only shown up when they were in that wreck. It looked as if someone had dragged them-self away from the ship. Either that or someone had dragged them... She heard three sets of feet land on the asphalt behind her and she doesn't even bother to acknowledge but merely just begins to follow the trail of blood further down the road. Behind her, she can hear Cloud talk to Tifa about what Shera had said but Bethany paid him no mind, because she knows that it wasn't true. Cid wouldn't do that. Not to his own wife. Not to anyone he loves. He has a rough exterior sure, but he has a soft heart underneath... as much as he wants to deny that. But Beth does agree that something is wrong with this whole situation. Not only has all of Cid's crew been slaughtered, but Cid himself was missing, Shera's dead, and this road seemingly isn't ending and this fog isn't letting up anytime soon. The blood trail hadn't ended, but something caught her eye to the right of her. She stopped and the rest of her group had as well, all looking up at the same thing. Beth couldn't explain it even if she tried. Chills went down her arms, shivers down her spine, hairs stood on end... all from a damn sign. It wasn't the foreboding feeling from it, oh no. But it was the sense of familiarity she was feeling as she looked up at the sign. Welcome to Silent Hill. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The walk into town was quiet, everyone in their own thoughts to start any form of conversation. Everyone's thoughts surrounded the same topic. Cid killed Shera. At least, according to the fallen scientist, he was the perpetrator. But was he really the one who attacked her? Or did her fear override her senses and she just thought it was the pilot? Nobody knew. Cloud was actually considering the idea that their beloved captain had gone mad and killed his own wife. Tifa was borderline, not knowing who to believe or, better yet, what. Vincent and Beth... well... they were inclined to believe that this town is what had done it. Not Cid. Vincent looked up at the cloudy sky, quirking his eyebrows up at the snow falling down upon the four. He set his gloved hand out to let a small flake land atop the leather, watching as it slightly smeared amongst the black. "Ash." The ex-Turk snapped out of his reverie to look at his closest friend, who happened to be smearing a small snowflake between her blood-stained fingers. "It's ash." Beth repeated. He turned to his own small flake and smeared it, watching the slight gray appear on his black glove. She was right. "Ash?" Tifa turned and gawked at the ex-doctor, "Are you sure?" "See for yourself." Beth all but replied as she continued following the trail of red, letting her friends decide whether they should follow her or not. Cloud and Tifa exchanged glances and began to follow Beth, but Vincent was still fixated on the small speck of gray. Why ash? he thought, his eyes widening in realization, maybe... "Vince!" He snapped his head up to look at the auburn, who was half-shrouded by the impending fog, "Ya coming?" He grunted and began to walk towards the three, letting the thoughts of ash be put on the backburner. Right now... he watched as Tifa and Cloud conversed, his fellow lab-rat taking the lead, we need to find the Chief. His claw clenched in resolution as his gait began to become more determined. Because he wouldn't let another person he cared about die. Thoughts of his past were brought forth and his teeth clenched, thinking about smoke and tea to calm his nerves. No. Cid wouldn't die. Not on his watch. * The walk was once again silent after the realization that the snow was actually ash. Beth quirked her eyebrows together as she continued to lead the way. Why ash? Why was it falling from the sky? What was wrong with this place? Out of the blue she began to get hot in the cold weather. Sweat trickled down her neck and her breathing began to become labored. Fire appeared in front of her and the smell of smoke threatened to choke her. She heard the wails of despair and pain through the fire. The cries of a little girl. The cries of justice. The cries of a baby. She thought she would die from the suffocation when a hand shot out and grasped her arm in a vice grip. "Bethany!" A little girl's voice screamed through the fire, "Bethany!" "Beth!" Beth snapped her head up to look into sky blue orbs. For a second she thought she saw curling smoke, grizzled chin, and scowling features. It was all replaced though with the small feminine face of their leader. "You alright?" Cloud asked and she blinked and looked at him and the two behind him. They all were giving her curious looks. What happened? "You just collapsed in front of us," Cloud began to explain, "Your skin was clammy and it looked like you were having trouble breathing." "Your eyes were clouded over too." Tifa added in and Vincent interjected, "What did you see?" Tifa and Cloud looked at him but he paid no mind, keeping his red eyes on the female on her knees, "I..." Beth gulped, tears threatening to come forth but she pushed them down, "I don't know." In all honesty, she really didn't. She didn't know what that was. That had never happened to her before and honestly it was a little unsettling. Vincent didn't seem content with that answer and Beth elaborated, "Just... fire. Fire and smoke." She looked towards the rest and then back to Vincent, "Fire and screams." "Screams?" Tifa echoed. Vincent seemed troubled by her answer but didn't show it. Unless you knew to look in his eyes that is, Beth had learned that trick back from their first adventure. You can always tell a person's true feelings in their eyes, and sadly for Vincent, that's all he ever does. And right now it was swirling with confusion and sadness. She didn't have time to look further as the ex-Turk grunted and with a swish of his cape, continued on toward the blood-soaked trail. Beth shook her head and shakily stood on her feet. What was that though? Was that a memory? Or just this town getting to her? ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "So... can we take one?" "I guess... I mean, we can leave some Gil for the-" "Gil is not the form of currency here, Cloud." "Oh, and how would you know... Vincent?" Cloud snapped, glaring accusatory daggers into the ex-Turk. Vincent merely raised an eyebrow before nodding over towards the stand they were currently hovering over, "If you look at the open register, you'll see green bills, Cloud. Not gil." Beth and Tifa merely watched the two, seeing the underlying tension that would undoubtedly burst forth in short time. It had always been there; silent and deadly even from their times hunting Sephiroth. The ex-doctor sighed and swiped a map off the table, breaking up the staring contest between the two men before it got too heated, "Whatever. Not like anyone's here to chop our hand off or anything."Before they left, Cloud grabbed another one too, just for a case of emergency before joining the group. "Well... from the looks of it we're on... Midway Avenue." Beth stated as she looked at her surroundings, back to her map, then to the trail of blood. The trail of blood that turned into bloody footprints about half a mile ago, "And the footprints lead off to... Industry Drive.""Alright then." Cloud cracked his knuckles before marching on, "Let's mosey." *"Of fucking course." Beth sighed through her nose as she looked up at the building, "Cid would go to a damn bar instead of a hospital." Or, actually, a tavern as the sign says over the front door. But really, in Beth's words, potato patato. "You know Cid." Tifa sighed as well as the group made their way to the door, "Always booze before health." "And smokes." Beth added and grinned slightly at the thought of their beloved pilot. She swung open the door to the tavern only to find... nothing. Absolutely nothing. "Cid?" Cloud called out as they entered the abandoned tavern, bypassing knocked over chairs and tables as they congregated at the center, "Cid!" "He's not here." Beth stated as she looked around the place, following the footprints as they led off to behind the bar. She stopped short as something on the ground caught her eye. "Beth?" She stooped and picked up the object, feeling the thick crimson liquid coating said object, smelling the metallic stench wafting strongly from it. "But he was here." She stood and the others eyes landed on the object she held in her hand. Goggles. A pair of goggles the pilot would rather die than not have it around his neck. She turned it over to see the inside of the band and saw C. Highwind stitched in blue thread. Beth wiped the blood of the goggles and put it in her backpocket. When they find Cid, she'll give this back to him, because lord only knows he's probably raising all kinds of hell right now knowing he doesn't have his trusty flight goggles. Vincent, after watching the auburn wipe the blood of the Chief's goggles, turned to scope the rest of the area out. The blood trail stopped where Beth was, meaning the Chief either wiped his boots off of crimson or... No. The ex- Turk veered his eyes and walked towards the bar and hopped over to take a look at the piece of parchment hanging up on the wall. It was a map of Silent Hill, like the ones they picked up a little while ago. He took it off the wall and grunted as he saw the drying blood on it. He continued to look as he saw where one bloody fingerprint lay. Oh no...All of a sudden, a loud screech filled the air, making everyone jump at the sound. Tifa whirled around and glared at a small handheld radio, picking up the culprit and lightly shaking it to try and stop the static. "Stupid thing." "What the fuck?!" Beth began to cough horribly as she stumbled backwards into Vincent, trying to get away from whatever just spewed out smoke. "Get back!" Vincent roared as a gunshot rang through the tavern. Beth peeked open her eyes through the smoke and saw an outline of some... armless... figure. It began to move in a strange fashion, twitching as its torso would move about as if it were struggling to get out of a straight jacket. As the smoke receded, more of its details began to emerge. It was a smokey gray color with thin legs. It had no distinct facial features except for a mouth with no lips, leaving the teeth and gums completely visible. The torso was contorted and rigid, with the outline of arms that were folded across its chest... except she could see it's lungs. The bright pink with dark gray sprawled across it... letting Beth believe her pilot friend may have similar lungs with his horrible habit. Large orange boils were sprawled throughout where its neck should have been. The shot Vincent fired seemed to do nothing but stagger the thing, as it stumbled backwards slightly before staggering it's way towards the two."Hey, smokey!" A bottle shattered against the monstrosity and it slightly turned to the culprit. Cloud gestured with his hand before throwing another bottle at it, "Over here!" "Cloud! What are you doing?!" Tifa chastised as she backed away from the monster, knowing she would do no good in this fight. "Getting it away so they can get out of the corner they're in." Cloud explained as the armless figure began to stagger towards him, watching as the two gunslingers hopped over the counter to join him. Beth aimed one of her pistols and took a shot at it, watching it slightly quiver but not let up. "You think it has a weakspot?" Cloud asked as he got his sword ready. Beth was about to answer when a gauntlet pushed her backwards, "Cloud. Let it get close to you." "Excuse me?" Cloud sputtered but Vincent urged, "Just do it." The leader of the group sighed and nodded, warily watching the thing as it hobbled even closer. Once it was a few feet away from the ex-SOLDIER, it's ribcage seemed to open up to reveal the smoker lungs it had underneath, "Roll out of the way!" Vincent yelled to Cloud who obliged in record time, rolling just as the smog spewed out and Vincent took a shot at it. The monster screeched and Beth aimed her pistols as well, getting in four good shots before it gave a final screech and collapsed onto the ground.The radio suddenly went silent.*"What the hell was that thing?!" Tifa whispered in horror as she looked at the lump of gray flesh laying just a few feet from the two gunslingers. Vincent holstered Cerberus before stepping over the thing, "A monstrosity." Tifa warily looked at the ex-Turk, back to the dead creature, than back to Vincent before she sighed and walked over to Cloud. Beth holstered her twin pistols before walking over to the gunslinger, "Vin, you okay?" "That... creature." Vincent whispered as he grabbed the map he was looking at earlier, "I have a feeling that there is more than meets the eye with this place." "Well no shit." Beth scoffed and crossed her arms, "This place is a child's fucking nightmare." "Hn." Beth quirked her eyebrows at his answer before looking at the parchment he was holding, "Whatcha got there?" "A map." He responded and folded it out, setting it atop an upright table as Cloud and Tifa joined the group. Vincent pointed to the bloody fingerprint, "I think I have an idea as to where the Chief went." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "The Grand Hotel?" Tifa echoed as they all looked at the bloody fingerprint pointing right at the three words. Vincent only nodded in reply before putting the map in his back pocket, "Let's go." Cloud muttered under his breath but complied, walking smoothly after the Turk, Tifa following there after. Beth walked to the door before pausing, turning to grab the handheld radio and running out to meet them. She walked towards the street and was in the midst of clipping the radio onto her jeans when she looked up to find all three of the friends were staring at her. She quirked her eyebrows but realized what they were staring at. "Apparently this thing gives off static when those... things are nearby." She explained as she was struggling with clipping it on, "Figured we'd want a heads up." Once it was securely on she pulled out her map and began to look. So it's on Simmons. If they took a left here and got back onto Midway Avenue, they could take a right onto Canyon Street then walk across Koontz to get there. Easy enough. She began to walk her designated route as her friends followed close behind. Her mind wandered off though. Why a hotel. Maybe just to get some rest? She snapped out of her reverie when they were on Midway Avenue and a dog's yelp echoed down the street. They all stopped and got into defensive positions, but all they heard was a dog's yelping and barking. It began to multiply in number, causing the group to exchange glances and head towards Canyon Street away from the noise with Beth following."Mommy?" She stood frozen in her spot and whirled around to stare into the dense fog. What the hell? "Mommy!" The dog barks were still there, the little girl's voice not at all muffled by the sounds. She turned from Canyon and began to slowly walk down Midway Avenue, towards the barking and the voice. Her friends would have missed all this if Vincent hadn't looked back just to see Beth's focused and confused look as she wandered down the street they were just on. "Bethany?" Cloud and Tifa looked back too and exchanged glances with Vincent, all giving a unanimous decision to follow the ex-doctor. They prepared themselves for whatever they would find, Cloud holding his sword and Vincent his gun. Tifa, with no weapon, merely walked defensively, as if anything could pop out at her at any time. They continued down the road, Beth's outline the only thing giving them lead. The barking began to intensify around them and Tifa so wished she could turn back, but her friend was out there. They weren't leaving her behind. The barking all of a sudden stopped when the group reached the doctor, who was staring transfixed at the shop before her. "... Beth?" Tifa asked and set a hand on her shoulder, doing nothing but slightly move the woman. Tifa looked over into the auburn's face to see the same look they saw when she collapsed in front of the group an hour ago. "Mommy! Look at him! He's so cute!" the little girl cooed as she looked at the white ball of fluff in the window, the sounds of the other puppies and dogs barking inside the store. "He sure is sweetie." The mom chuckled and patted her little girl on the head, watching as her daughter smushed her face into the window in hopes of getting closer to the dog. "Can we get him?" The girl turned to give her best puppy-dog eyes up to her mother, "Pleassseeee!" "Hon..." her mom reasoned but the girl kept giving her the stare. After a few minutes she sighed in defeat, "Okay. Fine." The girl squealed in delight and began to drag her mother into the store, "But you're taking care of him! Baths, Feedings, Walks. All you honey." Once they walked out with their newest family member, the mom looked down at her daughter, "What are you going to name him, Beth?" "..." Beth curled her little brows in confusion, only to giggle as the dog licked her face in retaliation. "Max." She said with a sure grin, "I wanna name him Max!" The mom smile, "Max it is then, sweetie." "Beth?" The doctor snapped out of her reverie to look at the confused eyes again. This was becoming more and more common. Just as she was going to explain what she saw, something moved in her peripheral vision. She whipped her head to see a familiar head of sandy hair waver slightly before running down the street, "Hey w-wait!" She pushed past Tifa and ran after the figure, "Cid!" Upon hearing the name that flew out of her mouth, they bolted after her. Beth ran down the street, following the surprisingly fast Cid as he turned the corner. She turned the corner to see him staring straight at her about ten feet away, with eyes so foreign to the pilot that she stopped breathing for a second, This is not Cid. Before she can open her mouth he turns once more and runs down the street, "D-Damn it! Stop running! Just wait up!" She passed shops as she ran after her friend, not even caring that some of these shops seemed familiar in their own way. But it didn't matter. She is following her friend. After another corner is turned she stops in front of a massive building; a massive building that Cid ran into. But she didn't want to go in there. No not again. Alchemilla HospitalThis is why she isn't a Doctor anymore. After what Hojo and Hollander had done.... Maybe I can go and grab Reeve and the others for help. They should still be in Edge."Only the Dark One opens and closes the gate to Silent Hill." Beth immediately whipped around at the new voice. She hadn't realized she said that aloud. The source of the voice was an older woman dressed in practically rags. She had long knappy gray hair and looked at Beth with soft eyes. Eyes so soft and yet there was a hint of sadness within them.The ex-Doctor turned to face the woman, "My friends and I... w-we don't know what's happening." She took a step towards the old woman, who drew back when Beth made a step to her, "Do you know what's happening here?" The woman made no move to reply, just stayed hunched over looking at Beth. "My friend," Beth started to say, "I'm looking for my friend. He's been hurt... and we can't find him." "We've all lost ones we love." the woman said in a soft, quiet voice, "Our Light. They deceived me." The old woman started to walk around the auburn as she continued to listen, "Their evil. Their hate."She stopped in front of Beth, "They hurt my child. They did terrible things to her." Tears swelled in the woman's eyes, "Alessa."Beth fumbled for the old picture she had of the group of Avalanche in her back pocket, showing the woman a picture of the pilot."This is my friend, Cid." She made a step towards the old woman who flinched back, but Beth continued unfolding the picture and showing it to the old woman, "He has a horrible temper so you have to be careful, but if you see him please," She took a deep breath, "Tell him to wait for us." The old woman's eyes widened in realization before looking up to Beth, stepping closer, "Yes." She said in an airy tone, "He's mine."She made a step towards Beth, trying to grab the picture, "No, get off-""He's mine." The two struggled with each other, the woman trying to grab the picture as Beth tried to get her off. "He's mine!" Beth shoved her off finally, "Get off me, lady! What the fuck do you mean he's yours?!" "My husband. The Father to Alessa. He's mine." What the... hell. "Beth!" She turned to see Cloud, Tifa, and Vincent. She nodded to them before looking back to the woman, "Look, I don't know who you think he is, lady. But this isn't your husband. I can guarantee that." She made her way towards the hospital with her friends following. When they walked inside, the woman airily breathed, "Into the fire she swallows their fate..." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "So that lady thinks Cid is her, what, husband?" "That's what she said." Beth answered Cloud's question, looking to him then back to the waiting room they were currently standing in. "But she seems... a little squirrly."They began to make their way towards the office when something in the waiting room caught Vincent's eye. It was an old newspaper article, one he himself remembered very clearly. "Vin?" He grunted and held a finger up, silently reading the paper laid out in front of him. Fire broke out in town. 4 nearby establishments destroyed. Charred body of Alessa Gillespie (9) and Anthony Gillespie (4 mo.) found in aftermath.Cause of fire currently under investigation. Investigations show source as the Grand Hotel located on Simmons Street."Oh my..." Beth breathed as she read the article over Vincent's shoulder. So young... and they had to suffer like that. "... Wait a minute." Beth moved so she was beside Vincent as she read the name on the article. "Alessa Gillespie..." "You know her?" Cloud asked but Beth shook her head. Why that made her feel guilty and wrong... she didn't know. "The woman outside. She said that was her daughter.""They hurt my child. They did terrible things to her." Tears swelled in the woman's eyes, "Alessa.""My husband. The Father to Alessa. He's mine." "This article says it happened in 1975."They all nodded and Beth continued, "And that woman outside vowed and declared that Cid was her husband." "Which would be impossible considering that's the year he was born." Tifa finished and Beth nodded, "Exactly." "So... her husband looks a lot like Cid?" Cloud asked, "Or she's crazy." "Probably both." Beth said as Vincent stood, heading from the waiting room and towards the examination room down the hall. The group follow him and he opens the door, immediately retracting once seeing something inside. Beth quirks her eyebrows and makes to move around him but Vincent shakes his head, seemingly almost paler than usual. "Vin... you okay?" "You..." Vincent swallowed, "You shouldn't go in there." Now her eyebrows were raised, "Why not? The way to get to the Office is through there and we could really use the master keys." "Then I'll get them." He blurted quickly, "Just..." He didn't finish as he walked in and slammed the door in Beth's face, causing her to gasp in surprise, "What the fuck..." She whispered and looked to the other two who both shrugged. She sighed and gave up, leaning against the wall with a cross of her arms as she waited for the gunman. Maybe she'll get a peek at the room when he returns. Maybe not. The radio pulled her from her thoughts as it began to emit the screeching static, making her and her two companions pull out their designated weapons and scope the area. For a long while nothing popped out, just their pitched breaths and the static being the only things filling the silence.Then they saw it. It began to round the corner closest to Beth, staggering it's way towards the trio. It reminded Beth a lot of the monster they dealt with before, twitching as if to get out of something and hobbling it's way towards them. Except... this one looked a lot more like it had on a straight jacket compared to the other one. Beth aimed her duel pistols at the creature and got in two good shots, making it stagger slightly before continuing it's course. "Back up!" Beth yelled as she began to walk backwards towards the waiting room, the creature still making its way towards them. It wasn't the same as the last one, so assuming it'll open up it's chest to spew smoke was out of the question.It did indeed spew something as before Beth knew it, a stream of black goo began to make it's way towards her. She barely missed it as she juked sideways to avoid the liquid, but some still managed to make it's way onto the sleeve of her jacket. It began to sizzle, making Beth hiss as she began to do a dance to get the jacket off. With Beth's focus on her jacket, she didn't even realize the monster made a running leap for her and she felt herself be pushed against the wall as Cloud grunted in frustration. "Get this thing off of me!" Cloud yelled as the monster had a vice grip on him with it's legs, seemingly more powerful than the mako-induced man as Cloud wiggled about trying to get the monster off of him but it was no use. This thing was powerful. With Cloud battling the straight jacket monster and Beth still trying to get off the burning jacket, Tifa looked around to try and find something to attack it with, realizing merely her fists wouldn't be good with the liquid it projectiled. That's when she saw it. Cloud began to lose consciousness as the monster constricted around him, crushing his lungs in the process. Black dots danced in his vision and he was about to ram it into the wall when a sickening SHTHUNK reverberated through the room and the monster began to slacken before falling to the floor. In it's place was Tifa still with her arms up from her attack. Cloud looked to her and then to the monster, seeing a crowbar lodged into it's head. The radio went silent."Thanks, Teef." He whispered hoarsely as he doubled over with his hands on his knees, breathing in sweet air into his lungs. "Maybe you should keep that." Cloud gestured towards the weapon with his head, standing straight and stretching his arms out slightly, "Might be handy if anymore of them show up." "Good idea." Tifa nodded and went to retrieve it, having to set her foot on the monster to get a good grip on the crowbar. She pulled it out, grimacing at the sickening squish that accompanied it, and flung the bar to get the remaining goo off of it. She looked from the bar and to Cloud, giving him a smile to which he returned. Cloud looked away from Tifa and to their other companion, "You okay? Any of it get on you?" "No. Just the jacket." Beth murmured as she looked at the article of clothing on the ground, still sizzling slightly, and sighed sadly. "I really liked that jacket." "We'll get you another. I'm just glad you're not hurt." Tifa smiled and patted Beth's arm affectionately, Beth smiling back in return. Silence reigned over the group as they waited for their last member. Time slowly went by and they were getting more and more fidgety. Beth began to think the worst as she stood there longer and longer. Is Vin hurt? Is he even there? Did somebody take him? She then decided that enough was enough and stood straight from the wall."I'm gonna get him." Beth announced as she began to open the door, "You guys wait-"Beth thought the wailing was her own internal alarm, ordering her to go in and find Vincent before they went to find Cid. Then it became apparent that she wasn't imagining things, that it really was sirens she was hearing. And this creepy feeling of being watched passed over her.That's when it turned dark.It was too quick for it to be the sunset, and too dark for it to be a cloud blocking the sun. She hesitated at the door, feeling rather than seeing Cloud and Tifa tense up behind her. She turned to look out the window to see the fog peel back, and darkness rush to fill the empty space. The ash on the ground was turning an inky black color.She looked up at the sky, trying to see what was going on. She failed, and ash continued to tumble down through the window pane. She heard a hiss. A storm had come to life in the form of a sweeping shadow, peeling paint and stone from the interior of the hospital to reveal a worn, beaten and filthy structure underneath. She turned back towards outside to see wooden shutters crashing down in the windows; chimneys crumbled and falling apart; street lights were twisting and crushing until only a dim halo remained.She watched as the road began to crack. It... it was dissolving, flaking away as easily as the paint had, sucked up into the sky by an invisible force.The sirens wailed. Beth's heart raced as she quickly turned towards the now grated door, seeing bits and pieces of the room that lie beyond but not enough to see anything clearly. "Vincent! We gotta go!" She yanked the door open and her breathing stilled as she took in the room in front of her, her eyes widening and spilling over in unstoppable tears. Cloud and Tifa looked at each other and ran towards the stilled woman, Tifa setting an arm on the female, "Beth? Are you-" She looked to the room and her eyes widened as well, her arm going slack, "alright..." The light was flickering on and off, letting Tifa only see bits and pieces when the light came, but she knew Cloud and Beth saw the whole thing. Before them was the examination room... an examination room filled with white feathers. The white feathers were coated in blood and if it weren't for a small area of white shining on them they wouldn't have even known they were white.There was a man no older than thirty years old. What once was sleek black hair was a charcoal gray and what once was healthy skin was ashen gray. His hands lay limp at his side as he swung to and fro, his neck at an awkward angle from the noose he was hanging from. Blood dripped from the man's one white wing and arms to drip onto the fallen white feathers on the ground.Two words were scrawled across the examination board and from here they knew it was written in blood as even the white feathers stuck onto them.YOU'RE NEXT. Beth's breathing hitched and she had to cover her mouth from the wave of nausea that hit her. She backed away quickly from the scene, staggering into the hallway and slamming against the grated wall before sliding down to the floor. Her head resting in her hands as her elbows lay on her knees. He was in there. He... he was the only person she knew had those brilliant white feathers. And now those white feathers were soaked in blood. She knew those words were meant for her and her alone. Not Tifa. Not Vincent. Not Cloud. No. For her."I found the keys." Vincent's deep voice cut through the air and Beth felt a slight gust of wind as red appeared in her peripheral vision. A strong smell of leather wafted through her nose and she knew Vincent was knelt before her. "I told you not to go in there..." he whispered and Beth shook visibly, eyes wide open. If she shut them... if she shut them she would still see the bloody feathers. She could still see his lax body hanging from that noose. And the blood. She will always see the blood. "What sick person..." Beth whispered and swallowed before speaking again, "Who did that?" She looked up to see the crimson eyes of Vincent Valentine looking at her, worry swirling within them. She doesn't know if she could look at Vincent the same way ever again. His eyes resembled too much of the carnage that lay in the room behind them. What she once thought was unique was quickly turning horrifying. She knew he couldn't help it, but with what she saw.... Vincent realized this and quickly turned his eyes downcast as he cleared his throat, "I... I do not know." Beth breathed in slowly and stood shakily, using the wall as support as she put as much distance from her and room as possible, "We need to get out of here. Tifa, stay in the middle. It's too dark for you too see." The group all exchanged glances before following the female, Tifa in the middle with Cloud in front of her and Vincent taking the rear. The gunman took one last glance at the exam room before shutting the door and swiftly following after. The words were still plaguing Beth's mind as she walked, wondering what it even meant? But she knew something bad would happen. The swirling nausea in her gut told her so. Something was coming after her. And she had no clue as to what it was. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "It's locked!""What??" Cloud quickly walked towards Beth who was at the moment struggling with the front doors of the hospital. "What do you mean it's locked? It wasn't when we came in!""I don't know Cloud!" Beth exclaimed, still on edge from what she saw only moments ago, "But these doors won't budge!"The mercenary took in a deep breath and pushed Beth aside, trying what the ex-doctor had just attempted. And she was correct."What... the hell..." Cloud said through breaths, using all his strength in opening the doors. No matter how strong they were, the door wouldn't budge."Something doesn't want us to leave." Vincent's voice cut in from the back of the group, said man looking at the new surroundings, "Whether that is good or bad I am unsure.""Well considering what we just saw, I'm gonna go with bad." Cloud sneered and kicked the doors for good measure. Cloud, the ever-collected hero, was quickly unraveling. This place had everyone on edge, all except the ex-Turk."Then what do we do?" Tifa asked, hugging her arms in what looked like uncertainty and slight fear."I surmise we continue what we came here to do." Vincent answered and turned towards the door to their left, "Find Chief."Beth sighed and quickly made her way to the door to the left, refusing to go through the waiting room again. Going through the waiting room meant going past that room again, and there was no way she was doing that again.The group stayed close together, weapons all drawn and Tifa safely in the middle. With the other's night-vision, Tifa was ordered to stay close by them, seeing as how she was practically blind in this situation. She didn't mind honestly. Usually, she would say she could handle herself, but if she were here alone... well, Tifa would rather not think about that.Beth stopped them as something to her left caught her attention. She slowly turned, wary and on edge, and saw the shape of a man just at the bottom of the stairwell. It was the man she saw earlier today. The one who looked like Cid.When he saw her he quickly turned and ran down the stairs. She began to walk closer to the stairs but began to hesitate. Her hair began to stand on end and chills ran down her spine. Whatever was down there was important she knew that. But... at the same time she knew something bad was down there too.Something evil.With a deep breath she began to make the descent, the others quickly following. She had her guns trained in front of her the whole time, ready for whatever may come her way, but there was nothing yet. It was just silent. An eerie silence that chilled her to the bone. They came to a door at the end of the stairs and she tried to open it to realize it's locked. "Damn it." She cursed and kicked the door only to remember what they went to the office for earlier, "Hey Vin? Still got those keys?"Vincent swished towards her and began to go through the various keys on the ring, testing each out before going to the next. As he began to try the fifth one, the radio on Beth began to go off once more, making all on edge as they scoped their surroundings. "Hurry, Vin." Beth said as she stared at the top of the stairs, keeping her guns trained as Vincent worked behind her, receiving only a grunt in reply.Metal against metal reverberated through their ears, making Cloud and Beth cringe at the high pitch noise it created. Loud footsteps accompanied both the grinding metal and the screeching static making the very floor beneath them quiver in fear."Vin...""I'm trying."Beth turned to see what key Vincent was on when a cold chill brushed the back of her neck.She turned.Unlike the others, this monster was hard to discern. All she could see was that it was standing at the top of the stairway behind her, that it was bigger than than any of them and about filled the entire stairwell. What little light there was outlined a rather large sword that resembled Cloud's and a slanted head, like the slopes of a pyramid. Behind that, Beth knew, were eyes that were fixed upon her, nothing else. And as Beth met the unseen stare of this thing, utter fear took over."Vincent, hurry." She whispered and as the thing began it's descent she brought her guns up despite her shaking hands, "Hurry!" Gunshots rang out the small stairwell, merely like stings of a bug to the giant man. He never wavered but continued his descent. Cloud kept in front of the group with First Tsurugi in hand, warily eyeing the monster who's line of vision was still trained on the ex-doctor.The monster was on the last step when the door finally opened, everyone crowding in before slamming the thing shut. Cloud quickly yanked the crowbar out of Tifa's hand and jammed it in the handle, hopefully deterring the monster from going further.Luck just wasn't on their side.If it wasn't for the fast reflexes of the four, they would have gotten decapitated by the monster's gigantic sword as it cut through the door like butter. They began to back away from the door and down the abandoned hallway when a shriek stopped the two men in their tracks. "Beth!"It was Tifa who screamed as she gripped onto the ex-Doctor who was at the moment held by the neck with the large meaty hand of the monster. Beth was about unconscious, her neck not able to take the strain as Tifa tried to get her out of the grasp. Cloud and Vincent began to run towards the two but it was too late.The monster slammed Beth's unconscious form against the torn door once, twice, three times before succeeding and pulling the lax ex-doctor through the slit.When Vincent ran and looked through the torn door, his stomach dropped at what he didn't see. And he saw neither the monster or Beth... as if they evaporated into thin air. "BETHANY!" ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "BETHANY!" "Vincent." The man snapped his cool red eyes at the man, his glare able to make anyone fearful of the gunman. Steely blue eyes met his and the grip tightened, "Vincent. We have to go.""Guys...""So you're just okay with this?!" Vincent, almost at the breaking point, yanked his arm out of the SOLDIER's hand, "You're okay with our comrade in the hands of that- of that-""Guys!""Of course I'm not!" Cloud about screamed, almost offended at the question that came out of the man's mouth. "Of course I'm not okay with it! But the sooner we get the hell out of here, the sooner we find her. Which means finding what the hell this... place... wants us to find." They shared a glare to one other for a few seconds, the air around them growing in underlying tension. "Guys!!" "What?!" They both bellowed, the female glaring strongly at the two before pointing backwards, "We have company." They immediately pulled out their weapons to only falter in their movement. Cool azure orbs stared at them in the shadows of the basement, half obscured in the corner to their right. The man seemed uneasy, like he did not want these people here, but obliging anyway. When he saw they were looking at him he turned and went into the room behind him, blocking the familiar male from their view.The one that looked exactly like the man they were looking for.The ex-Turk gave one last glare to the blonde before shoving his way past him, his cloak fluttering behind him as his two companions followed uneasily.Vincent, gun at ready, set his gauntlet atop the knob before twisting it slowly, peeking his gun in the crack of the door before slamming it open, training his gun throughout the entire room. They were alone. "The smell..." Tifa wrinkled her nose as she looked around the room. The room, like all the other ones they had passed, had a deep rust coating the entirety of the iron grated walls. The sink furthest from them had some unknown substance in it but she could see from here the deep red color it held. It didn't leave much to guessing what the biggest component was. An overturned gurney lay straight ahead. The stench of rotting decay and blood filled the air but one lone examiners light flickered above them dimly giving the female the slight bit of sight in this world of darkness. Vincent was thankful for once he had his cowl and used his gauntlet to press it further to his nose, trying to cover the stench from his heightened senses. He turned and bypassed the overturned gurney, making his way to the lone cabinets as he looked to see anything of importance. There was a locked drawer in front of him and no matter how much he pulled it wouldn't open. He would just shoot the lock, but he had limited ammo to spare. Every shot counted from this point on. So, after the locked drawer, he looked around there for anymore clues.Nothing."Guys." The two turned to see Cloud staring horrifically at the mirror in front of him. Vincent and Tifa both made their way over to see what he was looking at and they all turned a shade of green. Because on the mirror was a deep red smeared on it, with what looked like chunks of... something coagulated into it. But it wasn't just smears along the mirror, it was formed into big, blocky, blood-written letters. Will you do it? With an arrow pointing downwards.It wanted them to stick their hand in the sink full of blood. Tifa had to hold a hand to her mouth to help hold the bile quickly rising to her throat. Cloud quickly redirected her and then turned to the gunman, "Well... One of us has to do it." Vincent sighed, wishing so much to try and argue Cloud on this but... honestly, with what they had experienced thus far, which was honestly not a lot (but a lot at the same time), they knew that not doing this meant no going forwards. And that would mean not finding both Cid and now Beth. With a sigh, Vincent holstered his gun and rolled up his left sleeve, flexing his gauntlet before he readied himself in front of the bloody sink. A gloved hand went atop his and he looked up to see surprisingly gentle eyes. "Are you sure you want to do it?" Cloud asked, all differences aside, and Vincent hesitated before he gave a slow nod. "It should be me, the only one with a prosthetic should." Cloud opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it slowly and gave a small nod, retracting his hand and stepping back. So, with a deep breath, Vincent closed his eyes and let his hand go into the blood-filled sink.Tifa retched in the background. The gunman clenched his teeth as he bypassed what he thought was chunks of body parts and went around to try and find what was of such importance. He felt a sharp clang to his gauntlet and he grasped it gently before beginning to pull it out. Then he felt resistance, and not the good kind. "Shit." He cursed and tried to pull his gauntlet out. "Vincent?!" exclaimed the SOLDIER as he saw the ex-Turk begin to struggle with the sink in front of him. The ex-Turk grunted in reply as he still pulled, trying to get this unknown thing to let go."What is it?" Cloud asked and Vincent didn't reply, having to suck up his small minute amount of vanity and plung his other hand into the sink, grasping the soft squishy... flesh? Vincent about retched. He yanked on the object as he pulled his gauntlet in the opposite direction before it finally gave way, the usually graceful gunman stumbling backwards at the momentum and was righted by the recovered barmaid, "Are you okay?" She asked soothingly as she peered down to what was in his hands to only have to turn around and retch again. Because in one hand was what the man had been trying to acquire... a small blood-coated brass key. But in his other hand.In his other hand was a blood-soaked and rotted hand. A rotted hand that seemed to grasp onto Vincent and would not let go. But... but with the resistance Vincent felt meant it had been attached to something. And that sink was not deep enough for that.He quickly flung the decapitated hand across the room, the appendage giving a sickening squish as it made contact with the grated wall and slid downwards to the blood rusted floor. Cloud set a hand on the gunman's shoulder, the red-eyed male not knowing he was shaking until the hand snapped him out of his reverie. The SOLDIER gave him a quirk and nodded towards him, "You good?" The raven-haired male took in a deep breath before nodding slowly, "I- Yes... I am well." "Good." Cloud took his hand back and looked down at the object, "What do you think it's for?" "Hn." He shook his head as he looked towards the morgues. Could it be them? He shook his head as he saw no visible key holes to try the key out with. He began to look at the names though. Some at unfamiliar names etched upon them... but there were names on there that he had to take a step back for. "Oh my god..." Tifa whispered in horror as she saw what the man was looking at. Zack Fair. Aeris Gainsborough. Brian Lockhart. All people they themselves had a tie, a deep and emotional tie, too. His throat closed at the next one. Lucrecia Crescent. He shook his head, this was becoming too much. This... place... was playing with their minds. It was unsettling. The last one that was familiar gave them all a swift punch in the gut. Shera Highwind. The one they failed to save. "This is just cruel." Cloud seethed as his fists clenched, as they all stared at the fallen scientist's name, "Just cruel."Vincent, trying not to let it get to him, looked at the rest of the names but finding them not to be that important. They though had their last names smudged over in blood to the point it was illegible. James. Aaron. Harry. Henry. Alex.He tried all of the morgues doors, seeing if any open but alas would not. He saw fresh blood leading towards the one named "Alex" and he put that in his mind for later use. If he needed it that is. He turned to the cabinet he was at earlier, key clenched in his gauntlet. Vincent had an idea. With swift steps he made it to the locked drawer from earlier and put the key in, hearing the all knowing click signifying it's opening. He pulled the drawer back to be introduced to two things. A flashlight and a note. He handed the flashlight to Tifa, the only one in the group who would need it, and let his eyes go back to the note. He read aloud as he looked at the scribbled red-colored note. "Now, before you is a treacherous task. Allow yourself to view life after death. One wrong move and you die. Right move and you live. Alas, the time has come... who will you choose?" A lock clicked and they all turned to see the door they arrived in had shut, locking the three in a room seemingly full of dead bodies. Tifa gulped. "So..." Tifa whispered, "What do we do?" "Now, before you is a treacherous task..." Cloud repeated Vincent's earlier words, "Allow yourself to view life after death..." "So it wants us..." Vincent nodded to Tifa's weak question, all of them thinking about the last words of the note, "It want's us to pick the right body, yes." "So... which one?" She asked and he began to look at the morgues then back to the note. He knew it wouldn't be one of the ones that were directed to them specifically. So it was down to five.He looked back down at the note and read, "One wrong move and you die. Right move and you live.""We only get one shot at this then." Cloud crossed his arms as his brain began to work, eyes scanning each and everyone of the morgues. "I'm leaning towards Alex." He made his way to the specified one and Vincent held a hand up, "Wait!" Cloud had his hand on the handle and glared at the man before slowly stepping back, "What?" "Look at the note." Vincent ushered for the two and Tifa shined her flashlight on the paper so she herself had better lighting. The ex-Turk pointed, "Look at this. At the beginning of each sentence, the first letter is a brighter and bolder red. The lettering is even slightly different." "It could be a clue." Tifa mentioned and Vincent nodded, "My thinkings exactly. So I began to look at each letter to see if they had any similarities. I had to jumble the letters around but it forms a name." He walked up and pointed to the one second to the left on the bottom. "Aaron." "If you're sure." Cloud answered and crossed his arms, letting the ex-Turk open the morgue he had chosen. Vincent looked back at the male with a glare before turning to the morgue, deep breath in as he set his hand on the handle. Then he opened it."A picture?" He pulled the object out and inspected the black-and-white photo, looking at the woman with two small babies in her carrier, a small raven-haired figure standing beside her but the face was blurred. Better yet, the face of the woman was blurred also. He flipped the photo to see only one name visible, the others too faded to see clearly. Aaron. "So this was him as a newborn." Vincent spoke as he handed the picture for Tifa to see, who inspected the picture as well. Tifa quirked her eyebrows and Vincent cocked his head at her, Cloud being the one to speak as he made his way to her, peering over her shoulder, "What do you see?" "Um..." Tifa slightly blushed at the close proximity but quickly mentally shook her head before answering, "It's just..." Vincent walked forwards and she asked,"Why is there a little girl in the background?"That's when three of the morgues slammed open.
10755561	You Couldve Broke Your	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Brendon Urie, Dallon Weekes", "Fandom": "Panic! at the Disco", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by DallonsLegs", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-28T00:00:00", "words": "251", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe, Dallon Brave Af, Or just doesn't think, either way", "Relationship": "Brendon Urie/Dallon Weekes", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	It was a particularly normal evening for Dallon Weekes, or at least it was until he heard a slight thunk from his window. He warily creeped to the glass, mind storming over millons of possibilities. "Oh God what if it's a serial killer? Or even worse, a bird." He let out a final huff before ripping his curtains open. "Are you shitting me Brendon?" Dallon mumbled as he opened up his window, revealing the other boy 'sunbathing' atop his roof. "That's physically impossible." Brendon smiled back, before launching another pebble into the taller mans room.Dallon murmered numerous curses at the shorter man, then proceeded to climb onto his window seal. He recieved an eyebrow raise from the other man but not a word was spoke as Dallon prepared to leap. His jump lead him halfway on Brendons rooftop, it wasn't exactly a perfect landing, but it could be worse."Oh get over yourself and help me up." Dallon muttered, a slight smile on his face due to Brendons current fit of giggles.Brendon eventually pulled up his partner and they manged to lay down in complete silence. All ridiculousness aside, it was actually quite nice outside. It stayed like that for minutes, hours maybe before either spoke a word."Yknow, you could have just went into my room and gone through my window." Brendon said with a slight grin."But where's the fun in that?" The other replied, instantly setting Brendon into another fit of giggles."I guess you're right."
10706847	Quarantine	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Mycroft Holmes, Rosamund Mary \"Rosie\" Watson", "Fandom": "Sherlock (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Maribor_Petrichor", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-23T00:00:00", "words": "6,930", "Additional Tags": "Uncle Mycroft, Mycroft-centric, Fluff, Parentlock, Sickfic, hurt comfort, Rosamund Holmes, Rosie Watson - Freeform, Mycroft Being a Good Brother", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Quarantine A sequel to "I Occupy A Minor Position"The Holmes family, in a way, existed, under quarantine as they had for generations.Very rarely were outsiders let in and when they were their influence was, how to put it politely? Neutralized. Mycroft loved his father and respected him. He trusted him in every way...except intellectually. At an early age, his found his father's way of thinking and organizing facts scattered, discordant, distressing. He was not a simple man or an ignorant man but he was not a Holmes. At least not in the manner that the word came to be represented. But, that did happen from time to time. He knew their families genealogy and sometimes every few generations there would be born a...well...a normal person. Depending on the patriarch or matriarch of the family they could expect to receive treatment that ran the gamut from benevolent but regretful condescension to outright anger or revulsion.His father had been fortunate enough to receive the former. However, if there was one saving grace of the "normals" it was that bafflingly they always, and Mycroft could attest to this phenomena with data and records and stone cold facts, always tended to partner with a better. It was usually by marriage though there were cases of adoption throughout the years. A rather dull bulb coming across a child of sparkling brilliance and bringing them into the family. They would then become a Holmes, not simply in name but with all the rights and expectations and emotional rigors that came with the name. Adopted or blood, once welcomed, a Holmes was a Holmes and to the manner born.His father, William, had returned home one day with the bright and confident Violet Mycroft. So the story goes, while grandfather found her beauty of note he found her wits lacking. That was until she asked to speak to him in his study. Surprised, he agreed to the unusual request and when they emerged a half hour later he not only gave his son permission to proceed with the marriage he insisted upon it. She was apparently, in that short time, so brilliant, so clever, so well versed and educated so capable of displaying her genius that grandfather said if William did not marry her he would.Mycroft enjoyed that story.And so Violet Mycroft became a Holmes and the legacy was preserved and continued. She went on to bear three children, one so fragile and so, though he hated the hyperbole of the word, soulless, that she fractured into a million pieces and threatened to bring them all down with her.Mycroft didn't care to think about that. There was something in the equation that was Eurus that upset his idea of the natural order.Emotions were to be controlled, strictly and without question. Sentiment was a danger, a boobytrap set up by nature in direct opposition to reason and intellect. And in the daylight, those thoughts comforted him.But at night he thought of Eurus; genius distilled down to its pure form. Intellect on a crucible. Burned and burned and burned until all else fell away as vapor and ash. What was left? Cold. Empty. Nothing. Incandescent, yes, he had used that word and meant it. But behind that, beyond that, what was she? An absolute. An incredible instrument that played terrible music.Was that what he wanted to become? Was that what he wanted for Sherlock. He gave lip service to a life stripped of attachments, demands, and responsibilities but where did that lead?To Sherringford he imagined.Violet Mycroft Holmes had a dizzying intellect and skill for deduction and her eldest son worshiped at the altar of her brilliance. He read every word she had ever written, he engaged her in long discussions while she baked bread and made supper for the family.Mycroft had no desire to be or appear ordinary but he wasn't ridiculous enough to claim it didn't have its place. Of course, it could make life more convenient. To be powerful and threatening, to command attention when one entered a room, yes, this was all necessary and useful but...but...could his life have been easier if he could have pretended a bit more, as his mother did?And make no mistake, Violet Holmes pretended.This is not to say she was not loving or caring or didn't laugh...but she had her limits. She had areas to which she could not go, speculation she could not grasp and walls that could not be breached.She was a skilled actor on the stage of life but come closer and you could see the tattering of the costume, the smudges of the greasepaint. She could abide by tears, to a point. Frustrations, to a point. Tantrums and anger and all the problems children bring home with them from school, to a point.She was terrible with niggling illnesses, the common cold, a stomach virus, conjunctivitis, the flu. As a child he was either left alone to deal with the malady himself or depended on the kindness of his father. When Sherlock was older and he fell ill it was Mycroft who took care of him.Never was Violet more of a Holmes than when it came to her youngest child, Eurus. The problems were blatant, obvious but she ignored them. She tried to find a common ground with the little girl, to teach her, to make her understand, to appeal to a humanity that she didn't possess, but ultimately it came to nothing and she abandoned her, like a failed project. That was how their home burned down, that was how that poor little boy Victor Trevor died, that was how little Sherlock created a fantasy against the brutal reality he couldn't face. That was how Mycroft and Uncle Rudy were left to deal with the problem of mad little sister and how Sherlock turned inward on himself and found no offer of help or therapy forthcoming.Violet was a Holmes. She had little mercy and gave no quarter to nonsense. When he alongside Uncle Rudy told her that Eurus had died in another fire, to Mycroft's recollection she had shown no emotion, no reaction, nothing. She simply absorbed the information, nodded and went about her day.Mycroft adored her and feared her and she became the mold after which he modeled himself. Though he never was able to imitate the congenial nature which she herself imitated.He wondered who her model was. Perhaps her husband.Neither he nor Sherlock were ever going to have children. That was obvious and like typical parents, Violet and William lamented this fact though for different reasons than an average family might.It seemed likely that both brothers would not simply go unpartnered but without friends until the end of their days.And then...then there came John Watson.Crashing into his brother's life in a way Mycroft could neither have predicted not understood had he had the prescience.For the life of him, he didn't understand their connection. He had even once written it down on paper as best as he could understand it trying to make sense of what drew them to one another. It had been a frustrating puzzle he had eventually abandoned. He hated an unprovable truth but there they were. He watched from afar as hisHe watched from afar as his brother's eyes took on a new light after living with the man for but a month. He watched from afar as the doctor's life crumbled after Sherlock's "suicide". He watched as Sherlock, upon arriving back, safe and sound in London immediately inquired about his old flatmate. Time and time again, through tragedy and pain and fear and death they gravitated towards one another.There was little surprise when not so long after the death of "Mary" Watson, as she called herself, they quietly married. John had been living with him again, Sherlock was raising the doctor's child alongside him. The child, the little girl, Rosamund, "Rosie", called him Papa.He was a father. He was married. He was happy.Their parents were, of course, overjoyed from the start, even long before the wedding.The wedding where Sherlock gave the doctor his last name. John Watson-Holmes.Watson-Holmes.Mycroft kept his distance.Though he was loathe to admit it, especially to Sherlock, Doctor Watson was not an ignorant man. He was neither small nor simple. There was nothing about his intellect that was remarkable, nothing about his genes that needed to be passed down but...but he had an amiable nature, he was smart, clever, certainly head and shoulders above those who were his peers. He was, like their father, acceptable.But still, something about it, ancestrally, struck him as wrong. With no judgment on his character, his person, his morality or the love and care he professed for Sherlock, the name had been diluted.He personally had not changed his mind with regard to children and Uncle Rudy had remained a bachelor to his dying day.So, that was that. Their line had come to an end. Perhaps they had bred themselves out of existence.Watson-Holmes.A hyphen that signaled a period.And then he spent an afternoon with Rosamund Watson-Holmes.The sort of cherubic child most people would have noted as being, what would they say? Adorable?Precocious was a word too much abused in the modern day. People tossed it about, referencing their progeny and mistaking obnoxiousness for intelligence.Doctor Watson had, of course, extolled her virtues and more surprising was the fact that Sherlock had joined in. Still, his brother was excessively emotional, especially these days, well, for a Holmes.He hadn't noticed her very much during their brief meetings though occasionally he did catch her gazing at him. He wasn't accustomed to speaking to children and despite her bewildering habit of calling him Uncle Mycroft, he had no real desire to get to know her. One didn't "get to know" children.However...as it turned out, he had been wrong.One strange Sunday afternoon, one odd encounter had changed the trajectory of his life.In the least likely of places, he had found a rather bright light. The child was sharp, perceptive and able to deduce, truly deduce. He'd enjoyed her company and while his mind was usually not receptive to flights of fancy, he imagined, for a bit what life might have been like with a Eurus like this. What could he have made of her? What could she have made of him?After that Sunday, Rosamund wished to see him again, and again and again. He found himself penciling in a bit of time at least once a week for her. If they couldn't meet in person he would at the very least arrange a phone call.He thought perhaps her affection for him and his affection for her might have eased the reception he received at Baker Street. Instead it only aroused more suspicion and he was questioned by his brother, his brother's husband and their landlady, Mrs. Hudson whom Rosamund called "Gran" about just how they spent their time.They worried she was some sort of pawn. He understood that. He explained, but they were doubtful. He assumed they would be. In fact, he only explained because he feared they might decide to prevent him from seeing her.He took few joys in life. Life afforded him few. His happiest moment was typically spent alone in his theater watching old movies, some professional and some home made from a lifetime ago.But, with Rosamund, he found a different sort of happiness, a happiness that brought about the same sort of smile. This is not to say he was overly gregarious with the child. He was himself, always. But, for some odd reason, she seemed to like that. She liked him. When other people would normally storm off, chastise him, dismiss him she would laugh which was usually followed up with an "Oh, Uncle Mycroft."He had asked her once she was 12; "You don't find me cold?"She had turned to him with a look on her face far more mature than she should have been able to manage."You really don't think I see you, do you?" She'd replied.He hadn't been brave enough to ask her what she meant.As she grew so did her intelligence, her clarity and her capacity for comprehension. He encouraged her, trained her, just as he had her father, just as her father was also doing with her at Baker Street. He tightened her thinking skills, her analyzation, her observation. He gave her full access to his library, his notes from university. Should she express an interest in a subject he made sure she had everything she desired on the topic. He fed her curiosity as best he could and it turned out to be voracious. That alone excited him. But there was something else.As her last names indicated, Rosamund Holmes-Watson was a hybrid. He had known "Mary" was a genius in her own right. Sharp, quick, deadly. And the good doctor, well he possessed a clarity that Mycroft admitted he and Sherlock often lacked. It was less than flattering to say he brought a sort of common man wisdom to cases, but there it was.So there were three influneces working on the little girl, the genetics of her mother and the opposite and overlapping talents of her fathers. And perhaps his influence as well. Mycroft wanted to see more of her and he did and as time passed the fears that everyone harbored, the worries that he might turn her into someone like him vanished.He had harbored those same fears himself though he'd never admit it.But Rosamund was Rosamund. She was her own person, a shocking balance of both her father's.A Holmes for the new world.A Holmes post the East Wind.And so it went. He thought and prepared himself for the idea that this might be a childhood fancy. It could pass as she aged. But it didn't. They continued their Sunday afternoon meetings even as her teens arrived. She spoke to him as no one else did, no fear, no apprehension, no feigned reverence, just respect, affection, love.If her fathers were busy on a case he would sometimes be asked to send a car for her at Baker Street so she wouldn't be alone. She would then be delivered to his home on Pall Mall. She would do her homework in her room, a space she had boldly commandeered on one of her first visits. She would practice her violin and he could hear the strains of music as he worked in his office. When time permitted they would dine together. As protocol dictated his staff had sat her at one end of the table and he another. She'd scoffed when she'd seen that, picked up her plate, covered the distance between them and sat at his side."Your meeting with the Prime Minister didn't go well?" She'd asked."How can you tell?" He asked."Right here, by your eyebrow. You pinch that space when you're feeling stressed. It's a bit pink right now."He'd smiled. He hadn't smiled that entire day."Quite perceptive."That might have been the evening he introduced her to classic films though he couldn't remember for certain. They'd had quite a few evenings. He took her to his makeshift screening room, let her pick a film and showed her how to set up the projector. She'd flopped into a seat at his side. Halfway through the film she rested her head on his shoulder.He gave her full use of his library though he did have her check the books out. Young people were especially careless and he did want them returned. She played his piano and occasionally she even made a meal for him. She passed in and out of fancies, learning them, their ins and outs, sometimes mastering them and moving on.He'd come in one evening to find her there -he'd given her a key- putting the finishing touches on what appeared to be an incredibly caloric feast."I see that look of panic in your eyes, Uncle Mycroft." She said with a grin. "You have my solemn vow that everything here fits perfectly into your daily range. I'd have it no other way. Sit down, enjoy and tell me what hostile plans you thwarted today."It had been a lovely meal and he wished she hadn't tired of cooking and moved on to painting so quickly.She had been 16 then if memory served. She was clever and sharp, astoundingly wise, charmingly arrogant, grounded, talented, well-traveled, versed, mannered and bred. He supposed she was also rather pretty too with the dark, natural hair color of her mother, the blue eyes of her father and every so often a quirk of the mouth, smile or a furrow of the brow that she could only have picked up from Sherlock.He had accrued many favours in his 65 years on earth. Some had been cashed in though some were odd and ends, things he'd never really figured out how to capitalize on from people who could provide things that were of no use in his world. Until now. He had flung the doors open wide to the best schools and universities, the best internships, the best connections the best jobs. It felt good to be able to do something of this nature. To use his power not to bribe, to force or pressure or bargain or threaten but simply to give. He was also fully funding her gap year which she'd discover when the deposit to her account hit within the next few days.These were some of the thoughts rolling lazily through the mind of Mycroft Holmes as he was laid low with an insurmountable bout of the flu. He had battled valiantly but eventually canceled several meetings and returned home not long after 11 AM glad to slink into bed.The sound of his front door opening brought a weary frown to his face. With irritation, he made to get out of bed, stood and almost immediately plopped down again caught off guard by the dizziness.Trying again he slowly exited his bedroom and headed towards the stairs."Uncle Mycroft?" A voice called and he sighed with relief."Rosamund. Why are you here?" He asked the last word punctuated by a cough.Some might have been put off by his question. He was admittedly terrible with niceties but she only grinned as she took the stairs two at a time to meet him."Because you're sick and I'm breaking your quarantine to take care of you. You look awful. You should get back in bed.""How did you know I was ill? Did you ring for me? Did they say that?" He asked in horror. The absolute last thing he needed was for that rumor to get around that he was too old and sickly to do his job."Of course not." She said as though that were a nonsense idea. "I knew you were getting sick when I saw you a few days ago."She started ushering him gently back towards his bedroom and he was too tired to protest."I wasn't sick four days ago." He insisted petulantly as he once again sat on his bed."The flu has a one to four day incubation period.""Rosamund, while I am, as always, delighted by your company this isn't necessary. I have been tending to myself just fine."He eased back into bed with a grateful sigh at its softness and her help at propping up pillows behind him."Mmmhmm." She said dismissively as she pulled a bottle of water from her bag and handed it to him. She then set on the bed a small paper bag from the local chemist."What's this?""Oseltamivir phosphate, street name, Tamiflu. I got Dad to write a prescription for you. Or rather I got Papa to get Dad to write a prescription."He looked at the bag with naked gratitude and reaching for it, he pulled out the small box and tore into it eagerly."That should cut days off your recovery time. The right hand of the British government can't afford to be knocked on his arse for long."He shook his head at her choice of words as he downed the pills and water. Once he was done she bent over the bed and hugged him. His ability to return affection was always delayed. In the same way that people being questioned by someone in a foreign language pause to wait for the translator before they can answer. His brain still needed to transfer what this was. Though, to his credit, he had gotten faster over the years. He hugged her back."Now you're likely to get ill as well." he said with a sigh against her hair."Nah, already had it. It kind of swept through the family. Dad, me, Papa and now you. Oh, I got us ice cream for later. Let me go put it in the freezer. Be right back."She dashed out of the room and he watched her go. Were it anyone else the presumptuous statement of "later" implying an unextended invitation to stay would have been met with a withering gaze. But she was not anyone and she never had been."Is it alright if I stay here with you." She asked upon her return. "If you'd like to sleep I can study, A Levels coming and all. But if you'd prefer company...""You may stay." He asked happy to have avoided having to ask her to stay.She grinned in reply and settled at the foot of the bed cross-legged."How are your fathers?" He inquired. He inquired about people's well being these days."Good, engrossed in a case, so they're happy. Their 15 year anniversary is coming up by the way. I'm throwing them a surprise party and I'll expect you there.""Oh heavens..." He said with a sigh. "I'll send my regards and the best gift of all, my absence."Mycroft was pleased, truly pleased with the stability his brother had found with John Watson. There had been no further slip-ups or binges; in fact, he had seemed to right himself totally for his husband and his child. It was admirable, to say the least. Still, they did not all fraternize."Wel, I'd like you there." She insisted as she handed him a box of tissue."I'm simply not as sentimental as you are, dear. Despite how you try to make me out to be." He blew his nose with a less than dignified honk and she held up the trash can for him to dispose of it."Whatever you say." She replied flopping back onto the bed to stare up at the ceiling.Suddenly she shot up again."Is your mobile here?""Yes, why?""I need to text Papa. I left mine downstairs and it's kind of urgent. It just hit me. Can you text him the following? The reason the footprints disappear is because the dog was wearing the shoes. The sister did it after all."He looked at her dubiously but sent the text as she requested.The response was almost immediate."Your father, in his charming way, has demanded why I would know this." Mycroft said dryly before coughing into his fist."Tell him it just popped into my head. I just needed a bit of calming silence. I needed to be here." She concluded casually.Mycroft's heart which he was never quite willing to admit he had, warmed.He quickly texted his brother the reply and the response was far more tempered."He says and I quote. You're brilliant, Rosie, thank you!."The young woman smiled."He'd probably already figured it out. He likes to humor me. Thanks, Uncle Mycroft.""You are welcome. Now, universities, shall we go over them again?" He asked and she groaned in reply."Must we go over it again?""Your father attended Cambridge while I chose the superior Oxford. Though there's always the Imperial College, Durham or Lancaster University or the University of St. Andrews. I would rather you keep your choices limited to the top ten in the UK.""What about America?""Well, of course, Princeton, Harvard, MIT.""You know I want to take a year off at least to travel." She said propping up on an elbow to look at him."So you've said." He replied with a slight smile. He was very nearly giddy at the idea of her checking her balance and finding the funds for her plans already there."But both of them are against it. And they hold the purse strings.""Why on earth would they be against you expanding your mind?" He asked truly perplexed."They're worried I'll get hurt."They're overbearingly overprotective. I wonder what my mum would have been like." She mused before looking to him presumably for an answer.He disliked dealing in hypotheticals but for her, he sometimes indulged."Your mother was brilliant, skilled and though she would have likely skewed towards overprotective as mothers often do, I imagine she would have encouraged you to go.""That's what I like to think too." She said with a smile.There was a strong pragmatic streak in the girl. She didn't speak of her mother often, didn't indulge in fantasy which Mycroft appreciated. If there was one thing as sure as the rising and setting of the sun it was that the dead did not come back. No matter how hard people might wish them too. There was no sense in spending long conversations on what-might-have-been's. Still, with Rosamund he was, at times, willing to play along.The ring of the doorbell surprised him."Who the devil-""It's alright, that's our dinner. I'll go get it." She said hopping off the bed. She wasn't gone for more than five or so minutes before returning with two tall cups from a local coffee shop and a plate with biscuits."Here's yours, I think..." She sniffed it lightly and then smiled. "Yeah this is it, honey, ginger, and milk. I out dinner in the fridge for later.""We have perfectly good tea here, dear." He said. She was the only person on earth he called dear.She ignored him and sipped her own drink."Coffee for me and some chocolate bourbons for both of us. If your throat is sore you can dunk them to make it go down easier.""Thank you, Rosamund.""You're welcome, Uncle. Now, I believe you were in the middle of lecturing me about university. But that topic bores me, so tell me, what did you want to do when you were a boy?"Such a simple question and yet he didn't have an answer. He sipped his tea which was admittedly quite good to buy a bit of time."I don't remember." He said finally. "If there was something...it's lost to me now. I believe I was too busy to indulge in what the future might hold. There was too much to be done in the present.""So, you didn't want to lead this life?""After so many years it's difficult to even say." he said quietly, unnerved by the twinges of pain this brought about."You created your job, from the ground up. That's what you always told me.""This is true." he nodded."Be indispensable, Rosamund. That's what I've heard you say all my life. You made up a job just like Papa and Dad and now no one can do without you." She smiled broadly her face full of pride. "I admire you three so much. But sometimes you most of all.""Me? Why me?""Because you had to do it alone." She was again sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing him, one hand wrapped around her cup while the other reached for a biscuit."Dear, you've always had a rather romantic notion when it came to me. I am neither romantic nor sentimental. I dislike people and they tend to feel precisely the same way about me. And I am most certainly not lonely." Though the tea was doing wonders for his sinuses he coughed again, jostling the bed. "In all these years," he continued once he'd stopped that awful tickling irritation. "I've always wanted to ask you, what it is you saw in me?""You must have a fever." She said only half joking. "But, I'll just say that I saw you. I saw all the things in you that I love in Papa. I saw all the things in you that vex Daddy but, well, they make me laugh. When I was little I saw you as someone who needed a friend. I saw you as a proto-Papa, a version of him that could have existed or did long before I was born. But as I grew up I understood you're your own person. A good person, just different.""I'm not a good man. Rosamund. I never have been and I shall go to my grave unchanged.""I believe I know what kind of a man you are, Uncle Mycroft." She said quietly as she traced the rim of her cup with her fingertip. Suddenly she raised her head and met his gaze. "The British government doesn't run on sunshine and ice cream. I know dark things have to be done and I know that you're often called upon to make terrible decisions and grotesque sacrifices. I know your work, I know what you've done. I know your methods, I know the lengths you've gone to. I know the depths to which you've had to sink. I also know that it weighs upon you more than you'll ever admit to yourself. More than you ever can.""Can you figure me out so well?"She inhaled, drawing back and taking him in fully looking quite a bit like Sherlock."I can tell you've been working when you should be sleeping?""How?""By the way your wrist was positioned when you turned the knob to close the front door, tentative and obviously done with your left hand as opposed to your right. That means your carpal tunnel is playing up. And you haven't been wearing your wrist braces and you favor your right hand when you type.You have a projector and a movie screen despite the fact that the majority of these movies have been transferred to Blu-Ray with enhanced quality sound and picture. And even those that haven't been transferred, surely, it's something you could orchestrate. This indicates a sentimentality likely born out of the fact that this was the first way you ever viewed the movies as a young man. It also speaks to a certain nostalgia, meaning you're willing to remain in the past despite the fact that better options exist because the past is still somehow superior even though logically that's untrue. You mouth the lines silently when you watch, I've seen you do it out of the corner of my eye. You also have certain tins that largely go untouched, they have a different casing and no outer markings unlike everything else in your collection. This indicates you know the contents well enough to keep it unlabeled. And yet they're usually dustier than everything else in your library meaning they're beloved and treasured yet painful. Likely family movies I imagine.Moving on, you're apt to ignore Papa's birthday but you always make certain to call or visit on January 15th. Every year, without fail. It's because that's the day he jumped off Barts and even though you knew it was safe, even though you helped arrange it you still saw the pictures and felt his absence and worried that what if someday you did lose him. And all that worry, it still hurts.In addition to that, a few years back there was an effort to buy out Baker Street. A business mogul was purchasing most of the little flats in the areas trying to commercialize it all. Everyone else had signed and everyone at Baker Street, they were the only ones holding out. Now, two old lady landlords could have been easily ousted with little fuss. But somehow after I mentioned it to you, in tears mind you, all those harassing visits and letters and phone calls to Granny Hudson stopped. Any inquiries towards the sale of Baker Street were stopped and never mentioned again.You wear a ring on your right hand. You touch it when you're nervous, you stare at it when you're thinking, you caress it with your thumb out of habit. It's not familial I can tell by the way Granny Violet glances at it now and then. She does it sadly, it's similar to the way you look at it but you have much more of a connection. You take it off to clean it but never by the bathroom or kitchen sink, likely because it's too precious for you and you'd be devastated if it went down the drain. There's a little cup and toothbrush in your office and that's when and where you take it off. There are watermarks on the rim of the middle desk drawer which leads me to believe there's an item in there you like to look at while you clean. Perhaps a photograph. I went looking for a pen in there once but after I saw the watermarks I didn't open it. It's private and none of my business. I suspect this all centers around a lost friend or friendship or perhaps a love affair gone wrong. If it's intense enough I suppose there's hardly a difference.Sentimental, generous, stubborn, nostalgic, romantic. I know you, Uncle Mycroft." She concluded. "I know there are many more parts to you than you care to admit or acknowledged. Though I suppose I'll never know why."He was stunned. No one, not even his brother had ever deduced him so well. There was not a single point he could argue or refute. She had thoroughly assessed him and now regarded him with a smile tinged with a love and a sadness he found difficult to confront outright.He cleared his throat and cleared it again."You are a deadly shot, Rosamund. Truly an assassin.""And yet you live. It wasn't meant to wound, Uncle, only to make a point you don't want to see." She said with a soft smile. "And now, because you're sick I'm going to do something I never do.""And what might that be?"She got up from the bed and picked up her violin case and removed it gracefully."I'm going to let you call the tune." She said settling the instrument beneath her chin."A dangerous game." He said unable to hide his excitement."Don't I know it.""I shan't go easy on you.""I'd be disappointed and hurt if you did, Uncle Mycroft."He believed her."Alright, as you wish." He coughed, took a bite of biscuit and smiled. "Paganini's Caprice No. 4 in c minor"She laughed and it reminded him of Sherlock. That is when he'd been lucky enough to see Sherlock laugh."You devil.""Not up for it?""Are you kidding? I thought you were going to pick the Locatelli's 'Il labirinto armonico'.""That's next.""No, next I'm going to tackle Ernst's Variations on "The Last Rose of Summer" next. Most people get Paganini down and can't be arsed to learn Ernst. Hey, that's a good title "Can't be arsed to learn Ernst"."She laughed and raised her bow to begin."Ready?" She asked and he nodded in reply.Mycroft closed his eyes as she played, letting the music and notes wash over him. He'd heard his brother play on countless occasions for years and years. When they visited her he'd heard his sister play as well. But Rosamund...she put them to shame. It was breathtaking, her finger work, the rises the falls, the dizzying runs, the notes filling his bedroom and the house as a whole. The music! He kept very still so as not to stir even the slightest cough. He couldn't interrupt this, this concert for him.When she finished she brought her arms down gracefully, the strains of the music still around her, in her. He opened his eyes and she grinned at him."So?""Remarkable.""You think? There's always this one part where I fear I'm going to lose it, spin out of control, you know?" She carefully put the instrument back in its case. "I worry about that, spinning out of control."He suspected she meant more than just the music."I believe you underestimate yourself.""In any case, I think you should rest." She said taking the plate of biscuits off the bed and picking up any errant crumbs. She set his tea on the nearby nightstand and pulled the blankets further up his body."I haven't been tucked in since I was a child.""Well, that's a shame. Everyone should be tucked in now and then.""You're not leaving?" He asked, the question coming out more plaintive than he could stand."No, I'm just going downstairs for a bit while you sleep. I have some school work and studying to catch up on. I'll be back in a few hours."She kissed him on the forehead. Actually kissed him and he flushed. So much of the kindness he remembered from his brother when they were small. But not so raw, not so open and ready to be hurt. She had an outer shell and he was grateful for it."See you in a bit." She said as she left the room and switched off the light.What seemed like only five minutes later she returned."How are you feeling?" She asked.He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep but he could tell it was possibly late evening."You're still here.""Of course I am. Now, how do you feel?"Truthfully he felt awful but he hated the idleness of sleeping and he was a bit hungry."I've felt better." He said honestly."Well, time for more Tamiflu." She said popping a pill out of the blister packet."But it's to be taken every 12 hours." He protested."Indeed, it's a little after midnight. Here I made more tea. Drink it down. And once you're done we can have a late dinner and I have a surprise for you."She gestured to the projector and screen she had surreptitiously set up in his bedroom. He must have been sleeping hard not to have heard her."I found it." She says looking immensely pleased with herself.He blinked at her. There was only one thing she could possibly mean. But it couldn't be."You didn't. You couldn't have.""Oh but I did." She said with a laugh as she hurried out of the room. "Grabbing our dinner, be right back!"She came back soon after with a tray carrying two bowls of soup, two sandwiches and her own mug of tea."Well go on, face the screen!" She said as she set their food down and then started to search through her bag. She produced a reel and quickly opened the case and threaded the film through the machine as he'd showed her years ago.She switched off the lights and took her place on the bed at his side, careful to not jostle their soup."How did you get this, I must know!" He whispered."You can't always wait for good cases to fall into your lap." She whispered in reply as the film started. "I may have sought out a few known old movie collectors, or hoarders. I found one who had a bit of a mystery and I named my price. He accepted, I solved the case and in return, he gave me a copy of long assumed lost, The Miracle Man, 1919 Lon Chaney, Thomas Meighan and Betty Compson."I've been looking for this movie all my life." He said with wonder."I know." She said taking a sip of her soup. "So hush and watch it."And he did but not before staring at her for a bit in the flickering darkness. He loved her, he'd come to terms with that long ago. This unexpected little burst of brightness in his life that he wanted to keep safe and happy. The brightness that always made him go a bit farther in maintaining good relations with his brother and brother-in-law. She was an infusion and injection of clarity and ingenuity and brilliance if not directly to their bloodline then to their family name. Though years ago he would have been loathe to admit it the injection of "Morstan" and Watson mingled with the influence of Sherlock and perhaps, just perhaps he as well, had worked to revitalize their family. The name would go on and it would go on gracefully, intelligently nimbly and in a way of which he could be proud. He no longer saw that dash a period."You are a marvel, Rosamund Holmes." He said quietly before turning his face to watch the film."Watson-Holmes." She corrected him with a grin he could see even in the darkness before resting her head on his shoulder.Watson-Holmes.Indeed. A/N Special thanks to Tikatikox, Lestrades_Lady , and prulock who prompted me to write a sequel.
10738908	A Time to Every Purpose	{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Matt Farrell, John McClane, Lucy McClane, Original Characters", "Fandom": "Live Free or Die Hard (2007)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by persnickett", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-26T00:00:00", "words": "10,430", "Additional Tags": "Zombie Apocalypse, Community: smallfandombang", "Relationship": "Matt Farrell/John McClane", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Howlerverse", "Collections": "Small Fandoms Bang Round Six", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	The mid-afternoon sun was high in the sky, glittering off the water and gilding the branches of the opposite bank in pale golden-green. Lucy wasn’t fooled. Even at this time of day, the swift-flowing mountain stream would be frigid. She tipped her head back to the sky, letting the sun warm her face a moment or so, and listening to the slow churn and splash of the big water wheel that powered the mill. It was quiet here, a change from the cheerful noise and bustle that was market day in the commune. Lucy had nothing to trade today, so she wasn’t missing much. Even so, she sighed, reached down to tuck the long folds of her skirt up into her belt, and got down to work anyway. There were three barrels to fill, then the hike back to camp to make before dark. And downhill or not, Lucy knew from experience that once she had her wagon loaded up, the trek back would be a lot slower going than it had been coming up. Lucy toed off her sandals, grabbed the first barrel and waded in. The swift water flowed around and past her, numbing her feet and ankles right up to mid-calf, until she couldn’t even feel the cold. She tipped her barrel into the stream. The lip had barely touched the water’s surface when she heard it. She froze. Her blood ran suddenly icy in her veins with a chill that was not from the water. It had been a while but there was no mistaking the wheezing, choked-sounding scream of a Howler. There was a rustle and crash in the underbrush from the opposite bank, and sure enough, the culprit came shambling out into the open, bent over with the characteristic hunch to its back, dragging one leg a little but still moving ably down the bank. It was a male. Its hair had been conventionally short, back when it had still been a person. Somebody with a job to go to, a family to come home to, maybe. Tatters of clothing dangled from the crooked limbs, too filthy and torn with years of scavenging in the sparse mountain brush to identify what colours they might once have been. Khaki trousers perhaps; the shirt looked like it had had a collar once. And – at least for now, anyway – it was alone. But it was still a threat. It had been so long. Long enough she had all but stopped bringing weapons along on short trips from camp. And today was no exception. There was nothing in Lucy’s wagon but two empty barrels, a couple of Magda’s corn tortillas and some dried fruit she had brought as provisions for the hike home. She stood there, bent immobile over her half-full barrel with the rough-pebbled riverbed under her tingling feet and the cold, relentless flow of the stream drawing at her legs, watching. Then she saw it, the moment when the warped, broken spine went tense and the pale bestial eyes lit up with fire and sudden purpose. The exact moment it saw her. Lucy gripped her barrel. The grotesque jaw unhinged, and the thin, cracked lips pulled back in a jagged snarl, but before it could make another sound there was a whistling in the air and a slick, fleshy crack. The Howler fell, pierced through the skull with the long shaft of an arrow. Red bloomed out over the surface of the water; swift spreading flowers of scarlet, reaching for the lip of Lucy’s water-barrel. She pulled it away, drew back a few steps on instinct. The water was contaminated. She would have to go upstream. But when Lucy raised her head, there, in the middle of the brook, water nearly up to her knees, stood a woman she had definitely never seen at camp. Or a girl, really, Lucy thought belatedly. She couldn’t be much older than seventeen. She was dressed in what seemed to be army fatigues, and gripped a hunting bow in her left hand. There was various survival gear strapped to her waist, and on her back was a slim quiver of sleek black arrows, and what looked like it might be a samurai sword. Lucy gave a quick, involuntary glance back over her shoulder at her still-weaponless wagon. But the spectacle in front of her was unstringing her bow now, and stowing it on her back with the rest of her arsenal while Lucy just stood there and stared. The stranger was like something out of those old video games somebody she once knew had liked to play, back in New York. Like something from another life… “Lucy McClane?” And now the strange hunter was staring right back at her, looking like she was almost just as surprised. Lucy’s fingers slipped on the wet plastic edge of the barrel at the sound of her name. “What the—” “You look just like your picture,” the stranger breathed. Both hands came up to clasp in front of her, in a gesture of childlike delight at incongruous odds with the rugged survivalist clothing and bristling weaponry. “Couple grey hairs now, maybe, but…” The girl broke off with an unexpected laugh, and took a few excited, sloshing steps forward through the river. She stopped when Lucy put up an uncertain hand. “What—I’m sorry—” Lucy stammered. “But. Who…” “Rett MacFarlane,” the girl introduced herself. “And I’m…” she gave that unsettling, overexcited little laugh again, paired with a leather creaking, weapon-clinking shrug. “Your sister.” The high afternoon sun off the water dazzled their eyes, and the stream of red swept between them and away downstream. Lucy’s feet were aching with cold. “So…” the stranger put up two leather-gauntleted hands and adjusted the weight of the armory on her back. “Know where I might find a radio?” * Matt pushed his hands into his hair and stared at the map a little more in disbelief. Or maybe it wasn’t so much ‘disbelief’ as it was sort of a ‘wishing-he-could-disbelieve’, what was a clearly, disturbingly, emerging pattern. Matt had checked and checked again. He had double checked and triple checked and fact checked and background checked each and every news report, every source that came out of the woodwork after the news stopped reporting the attacks. The little red pins that marched across the map of the Continental US plastered to the wall above his desk told the story loud and clear. Matt could practically remember placing every one, each marking some nightmarish tale of new street drugs so potent they could make the average human face look like an all-you-can eat buffet to a user on a bad trip. Or an unexplained upswing in the heretofore-unheard-of coyote population being the real reason for all the recent discoveries of small dogs, large dogs, and sadly at least one small child, with their throats ripped out. Whatever stories the government might be feeding the media, the pins didn’t lie. And coyotes didn’t leave leftovers. Whatever was happening, whatever these ghoulish freaks of nature were, they were forming packs. And the packs were moving toward New York. Matt sighed. He gave up pulling at his hair and settled for pressing his fingertips into his eyes, hard. But when he let up and waited for the under-eyelid firecracker show to fuzz into white, tingling sparks and subside, the pins were still there. Spelling out their silent warning and keeping him awake. Matt pulled his hand back. He had reached out on instinct for his phone. It was way too late for a call, and besides, he had promised himself he wouldn’t. When was he going to get over it? The impulse to go running to McClane every time he felt threatened? He was like some sort of weak, nerdy turtle retreating into its hardened jock shell when some asshole pokes it with a stick. He was sure McClane was sick of it too. The man had been nothing but patient with him after all, that whole time a couple years back when Matt was convinced the Illuminati were operating out of the deli on 53rd street. And then there was that whole incident with those escaped capybaras from the zoo. But hey, he had been on prescription morphine. And in his defense, those two creeps hanging out in the parking lot of his building had been both officially loitering and totally suspicious. Of course Matt understood there was nothing actually illegal about being a couple of Jehovah’s Witnesses out spreading the word. But what if their shifty black briefcase had turned out to be full of something a little more incendiary than copies of The Watchtower? Matt let out another sigh. He should have been in bed hours ago, anyway. Even if no sleep was going to come of it. Matt sat on the bed and sloughed off his jeans. He kind of got it, he supposed, how a guy like John could become some sort of a post-traumatic comfort zone to a guy like him. Because, come on, consider the circumstances, Matt thought as he sat there, looking down at the scars running down his calf and across the kneecap. Yeah, the fire sale sure was some shit. At some point though, he was sure, a grownup was supposed get over it, move the fuck on. Sure, maybe it was totally understandable, but that didn’t make it normal. Or healthy. He shook himself out of it, stripped off his t-shirt and slid in between the sheets. It never helped him get to sleep, thinking about that day. Thinking about John helped sometimes though, Matt reflected, as his hand travelled a familiar night-time path over the warm plane of his stomach. But he should probably get over that too. Matt rolled over and shut his eyes, and hoped like hell his dreams wouldn’t show him red pins. Pins in the hundreds, forming lines and merging into groups that multiplied and swelled and moved closer, and closer... It was a Tuesday, the day Matt finally heard it. The sound he had been waiting for; the sound that until that day he had only heard on a recording, buried deep in some heavily encrypted government files that he never would have been able to crack without some help from a very reliable, very questionably-legal source. Inhuman, and yet not like any animal Matt had ever heard. Part wail and part screech, grating and wheezing and one hundred percent fucking gut-chilling. Then, the screaming. Definitely human and just as terrifying, and absolutely inside the building. Matt grabbed his go-bag from the corner, never so grateful to have been a crazy conspiracy theorist before in his life. He snagged the last three Red Bulls that were more or less the only remaining contents of his refrigerator and hit the fire escape in under two minutes. The buses had stopped running about a month ago, and taxi drivers had quit picking up strange fares weeks before that. Matt would have to hoof it, but hell, if Frodo could do it… Matt put the thought that Frodo got nine big, tough immortal walking companions and had never been shot in the knee out of his head. He dumped out any last worry whether what he was about to do was normal or sane, or if it would do any good at all. What the hell else was he going to do, anyway? Matt checked the angle of the sun and set out -- due North, and straight for John McClane. * Marlene blinked hard in the sunlight, put the binoculars up again. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking at, and a second look didn’t make it any clearer. Word about the barricade was getting out somehow, or maybe people everywhere just eventually cottoned on to the same idea everyone else here had had – about the infected not being smart enough to cross the water. Because people were starting to arrive. Sometimes in big groups, sometimes small, like families. Never alone, though. Nobody had ever made it this far alone. And this thing, whatever it was, wasn’t moving like a person. It wasn’t moving like one of the infected either. No meandering or shuffling to its path, and it was coming much too fast. But it moved too smooth or something to be human, the speed too constant and the turns too sharp – almost robotic, or like it was on wheels. The way it traveled reminded her of the year they bought the boys that remote controlled monster truck for Christmas…they drove it out into traffic, and right under an actual speeding 4x4, the very first day in spring that the weather got good enough to open the darned, way-too-expensive, thing up outside. But whatever this thing was, it was weaving carefully in between the abandoned trucks and cars, and making the straight-shot down Atlantic toward them with definite and unmistakable purpose. Marlene put the binocs down and readied her weapon. She was about to radio for backup, but then along came Kosloski, right on schedule, walking his patrol route and whistling a jaunty, idiotic tune to boot. Not that it was enough noise to attract anything they shouldn’t, but Kosloski never could seem to spend more than a second being quiet. “What’s up?” he asked when he had gotten close enough to see her gun was out. “Come check this out,” she said, giving a nod over her shoulder in the direction in question, and getting ready to hand him the binocs. Kosloski climbed up to meet her at her post, which at this point in the barricade was a plywood subfloor platform atop a line of old dumpsters – that were thankfully emptied out days ago by some of the volunteers. “The hell is that?” Kosloski muttered, once he got hold of the glasses. “I’m hoping you’re gonna be able to tell me,” Marlene replied, training her weapon at the thing in the distance, just as it gave a momentary gleam of reflected sunlight, like at least some part of it was made out of metal. Marlene held her rifle and breathed slow, kept her heart rate steady. She tried not to think about how in all those disaster movies and Planet of the Apes-style horror flicks, the government always sent out drones, or the air force, to napalm the whole geographical area and contain the outbreak. They stood there, waiting in silence in the bright sun and the perfect afternoon breeze, until Kosloski started to laugh. “No way,” he chortled. “No fucking way.” Marlene cleared her throat pointedly, reminding him she was still there and waiting for intel. “Segway,” he said, still sounding way too damn amused. “Not a great one,” Marlene told him, still not taking her eyes off the strangely moving target. “No, I mean a Seg-way,” he said, taking the binoculars away from his face for a minute so he could over-enunciate it – much too close to her ear for her liking, while she was trying to aim. “I can’t believe it, but I swear, it’s some kid on a Segway.” “You mean one of those motorized scooter-deals?” Her kids had wanted one of those too, but not only did they have a ridiculous price tag, her little monsters would probably drive the darn thing straight out into traffic on the first go. This was weird. It didn’t figure. Marlene kept her weapon raised and waited, half expecting to see more coming around the corner, maybe in military formation. But it was only ever just the one. And the closer it got, it only got weirder. The guy riding it wasn’t a kid, not exactly. But he was…well weird was only the start of it really. He rode up to about thirty feet out from the barricade – the point where most people needed the reminder to keep calm and quiet, either calling out to the guard on duty, or whooping and celebrating about making the safety of the barricade. But this guy seemed to have learned better, already. He abandoned his ride and threw it down (a little gasp of concern for the expensive toy escaped Kosloski, beside her) and put his hands in the air. He was wearing some kind of fingerless gloves, that you might use for dirt-biking, or maybe archery, and he was absolutely covered in blood. There were smears on his arms and spatters on his face, and his t-shirt looked like it had gotten so drenched in gore at some point in the last day or so that Marlene could tell it had some kind of picture on it, but she’d be surprised if anybody would ever be able to make it out again. Marlene pointed her gun away, but didn’t put it down while she waited out the slow approach. There was something weird and almost feral about this stranger, who walked with a limp and kept his hands up the whole way, coming silently and inexorably at them from out of the wastelands like a scene from the Old West. “You all right?” She asked him, when she thought he was close enough to hear. He put his hands down but he seemed too focused on the structure of the barricade itself to reply. He was shaking his head, and seemed to be laughing a little. He muttered something that sounded like “I should have known.” “I’m looking for John McClane?” the stranger asked, when he finally looked up at them. “Holy shit,” Kosloski muttered. Marlene ignored him. She knew what he was thinking, but there were more important things than camp gossip to deal with at the moment. “I think this is the guy.” “You alright?” she asked again, a little louder, but not too much. Just about the volume you use on hard-of-hearing great aunts and people who might be a little traumatized. Or just plain nutty. “Have you been bitten?” “Oh this,” the young guy said, looking down at his coating of blood and gunk like he was used to it or something. “No, this isn’t mine. I met a family back there who ran into some trouble with—” “Is that a samurai sword!?” Kosloski broke in, excitedly, pointing out a weapon dangling from the stranger’s belt. “Katana,” he corrected, settling a hand absently on the hilt. Marlene recognized the comforted way the wild look in his eye quieted a little, when he felt the weapon at his side. She felt the exact same way with a rifle in her hand. This kid had seen some action. “This is totally the guy,” Kosloski insisted. He certainly fit the description they’d been given. Caucasian with brown hair, that was ‘kinda stupid and floppy’ and he definitely fit the ‘skinny and nerdy’ part. “Better radio the Captain,” Marlene agreed. She ended up doing it herself though, because Kosloski had already launched into an excitable line of questioning about the Segway. “There’s a booth in Bridge Park,” he was saying, when Marlene got done telling Cap that there was a new arrival here, and he had better come see this one himself. “Does rentals.” “You rented it?” Kosloski asked, sounding genuinely confused. Marlene joined the new guy in looking at Kosloski like he was the exact kind of idiot she knew him to be. “Oh yeah,” Kosloski said, sheepishly, like he had forgotten all about the whole collapse of society thing they were dealing with. “I… see, I lost a kneecap in a— and just, yeah, really low blood sugar? So I’m trying to conserve…” the new guy was suddenly babbling, as if he felt the need to justify stealing his ride, like he had forgotten too. “I’m sorry,” he stopped himself abruptly and shook his head so that his shaggy haircut flew around and got in his eyes, “but I’m looking for John McClane?” he said again, squinting quizzically up at her. “Did you say this is the right place? He used to live around here…” “Oh yeah,” Kosloski repeated, “totally the guy.” Marlene was about to respond, but as if on cue, the Captain had arrived. He swung himself up the step ladder to their vantage point, and stood looking down at the new-comer with his arms crossed and his legs apart. “Took you long enough, kid,” Cap growled in his trademark gruff tone. The boyish grin that broke out on the stranger’s face spoke volumes about why Cap called him that. It made a stark contrast, standing out white against the grime and blood streaking his skin. “Guess you’re the Captain,” came the reply. “…And the Captain is you.” He didn’t actually sound all that surprised. When they took their impromptu vote, and named McClane acting Captain, he had put everybody on watch for two people. One, was his daughter, Lucy. She was a long shot, as nobody was even sure she had been in town when the crap hit the fan, and they didn’t have a lot to go on, but they knew she was ‘kinda pretty, with long brown hair’ and ‘an attitude as bad as mine’. The other, was the only person in the world who might be able to help McClane find her. A person who had his own stock of weaponry laid aside and a ready-made Sergeant’s position awaiting him the minute he walked up to the barriers, which McClane had been one hundred percent certain he eventually would. His name was Matt Farrell. They had been in the news together a few years back, but nobody could quite remember the story, and now all they had were a lot of rumours. Some said he was a criminal mastermind, some a national hero – if not both. Some said he had been Lucy’s boyfriend. Some even said he had been McClane’s. The scene, Marlene had to admit it, was priceless. The relief in their faces was something she hadn’t seen in weeks, and under the layer of grime, Matt’s might have even been just a little pink. Stress and worry, they’ve seen their share of lately. Terror and grief and some rage, for good measure. Even Kosloski grinning like an idiot at the reunion playing out in front of him was kind of nice to see. Joy. They got so little of it lately, and who knew when it would be easy to come by again? “Nice sword,” Cap noted with a nod at Matt’s sidearm, but his tone came out sounding only a little bit teasing and mostly sort of impressed. “Katana,” Kosloski corrected him, knowledgeably. Cap threw him a look that was a lot less impressed. Matt just nodded sagely. “This guy gets it,” he said, pointing an appreciative finger at Kosloski. “Oh, the football jocks all had a good laugh at the nerds learning Kendo, but who’s laughing now?” he spouted, patting his trusty blade, lovingly. “They’re probably all roaming around West 16th ripping the spines out of dumpster rats by now. Ah well,” he signed dramatically. “You know what they say, the Geeks shall inherit.” “Nice barricade,” Matt went on, countering Cap’s teasing with a volley of his own. “Very Mad Max. I would have gone with more human skulls, myself, but to each his own.” They grinned at each other another another second or so, before the mutual relief and elation in their faces drained away and turned to business. “You bit?” Cap asked, indicating the kid’s tattered, blood soaked clothes. “No,” he answered, which was what anybody would probably say, who wanted to get behind a nice safe barrier and was surrounded by ex-cops with firearms. But Cap seemed to accept it as gospel. “But there’s this family, back by the park,” Matt said, gesturing animatedly back over his shoulder as if he could turn around and see them there. “They have a new-born.” “How new?” “Uh,” Matt answered sheepishly, and this time Marlene was sure he looked a little flushed. “Let’s just say I can now add ‘Midwife’ to the old resume.” “You delivered a baby!?” Kosloski cut in, unable to contain himself any further. One of the many rumours about Cap’s boy Matt – and there was a truckload – was that he had a photographic memory, and had memorized the Internet. Anything that had once been up there, was allegedly now rattling around somewhere inside of this guy’s brain. And Marlene could be sure How to Deliver a Baby had likely been posted on Wiki-How, WebMD and Buzzfeed, in a variety of easy-to-view formats. Cap didn’t seem to be the least bit surprised, at any rate. “To be honest, the mom did most of the work,” Matt said, dismissively, but Kosloski wasn’t done with him. “See any infected?” he quizzed. “Oh yeah,” Matt answered soberly, and looked like he was suppressing a little shiver. “Were they gnarly?” Kosloski asked, morbidly engrossed. “Extra.” Matt confirmed, before turning pleading eyes back on Cap. “McClane…they could really use some help out there.” Cap nodded. “You can tell us how to get to ‘em? If we get you a map?” “Them and more,” Matt said, nodding fervently. “Sir,” Marlene interrupted uncertainly. They both looked at her, not sure which of them she had been addressing, but nobody seemed to think it was weird that it might have been Matt. Maybe it wasn’t. “There’s protocols. He’ll have to quarantine, we don’t know for sure…” “Yep,” Cap agreed, unfazed. “He can spend it with me. Debriefing.” Kosloski let out a juvenile snort, and Marlene threw him a quelling look. Matt grinned again and his gaze went down into the dirt. This time even Cap looked like maybe his ears were a little bit pink, but he was watching Matt scuffling at the pavement with the toe of his filthy sneaker like it was the cutest thing since Kewpie Dolls. “Head up to the RV parked up there, up on the grass,” Cap said with a gruff gesture north-east along the barricade, when Matt looked up at him again. “That’s our gate house. We’ll get you a map and send out a rescue team. You’ll need to decontaminate. We got fresh clothes, some rations for your blood sugar,” Cap said, with a sly twinkly thing happening in his eye that Marlene would swear she had never seen before. “Then in the morning, if you’re not a raving psychotic animal, we show you around camp, get you some weapons and duties.” “You mean not anymore of a raving animal than usual, right?” Matt replied, tritely. Cap winked at him. Then he turned to head back down the stepladder, but he twisted back over his shoulder and called out one last time. “Oh hey kid?” he waited until Matt turned back to look at him before delivering his last words and dropping neatly down the ladder. “Welcome home.” They watched as Cap strode away down the barricade, whistling a jaunty, idiotic tune of his own. “That was so totally the guy,” Kosloski asserted, bouncing uncontainedly on the balls of his feet. “…That was the guy…right?” “Totally,” Maureen agreed, with a smile. * John lifted his hand and let the dark, satiny strands sift through his fingers again. And then again. These were his mornings, for some months now, and still he felt like he could do this forever. Just this, lying here, feeling the silken flow of Matt’s hair between his fingers and listening, always listening for the uneven shuffle of broken, twist-ankled feet, or the huffing breath of a scenting Howler scout outside the bare plank walls. They were pretty safe here. They had made camp for the night at this barn on many a raid before this one. They liked it for the added security of the hay loft, which was only accessible by ladder – or something very, very good at climbing walls. And the opportunity for a literal roll in the hay never hurt either. John smiled to himself as he cast an eye over at their weapons, nestled carefully atop said hay at a calculated distance to each side of their makeshift bedroll, loaded and ready. Sure, this was a good spot tactically, but he still had a plan for every kind of attack. A lone scout, John could handle himself. Without a lot of noise, and probably without even having to bother putting on his pants. If they had to use the guns for a bigger group, the racket would bring every pack in a thirty mile radius down on them, which was the reason they were always careful to bring enough ammo to cover their asses long enough to make it back to the truck. Getting all the way back to camp after that however, was no guarantee. Which was why John would still probably try and tackle things the quiet way, even if there was more than just the one. Even if it was stupid. It turned out he was capable of doing a lot of stupid things, when it came to Matt. But it looked like he didn’t have to, today. Today, he just lay there, carding his fingers through the soft, grown-out mop of Matt’s hair. Watching the motes that danced in the idyllic shafts of dappled sunshine slanting through the slatted walls, and admiring the places it landed in diamond-bright patches of harmless white fire against the canvas of Matt’s pale, smooth skin. Yeah, his life was pretty good these days. It figured it would take the apocalypse for John McClane to catch a break. Matt stirred under his hand. He had tugged a little too hard in his reverie, maybe, rubbing the softness of one of the dark chestnut locks between his calloused thumb and fingertip. “Hey…” Matt murmured, a smile already starting on his lips although he hadn’t even opened his eyes. “You woke me up.” “Sorry,” John murmured back, giving another little tug. “Nope,” Matt replied, calling bullshit on the apology and snuggling closer, still without opening his eyes. “Nope,” John agreed. He let his hand leave Matt’s hair and trail softly down the warm length of his spine. “Mmm. Stop corrupting me,” Matt hummed, nuzzling into him in a way that meant he didn’t want him to stop at all. “Let’s not forget, I’m the ne’er-do-well menace to society and you’re the upstanding hero. I’m supposed to be corrupting you.” Matt’s hand moved under the blanket and landed somewhere in the vicinity of his hip, the thumb rubbing a little circle into his skin. John let his own hand move lower. “But it’s the end of the world, remember?” John argued. “No more society. Just a bunch of old pervs running around, free to take advantage of all the orphaned young things, too naive to know any better…” Matt huffed a breath out against his chest that felt more like a wry little half-laugh than a reaction to the path John’s hand was making under the blanket. Shit. He should have known better than to use the word ‘orphan’. “I just meant—“ “No,” Matt interrupted him, gently, “I know. I know what you meant.” But from the way he was pulling away and propping himself up on one elbow, it looked like the mood was no less effectively killed. “It’s just…” Matt reached out and retrieved a stray piece of straw that had been stuck in John’s chest hair, and started examining it like it was the most fascinating blade of straw in the whole damn barn. “Is that what you think?” “What?” John asked, when Matt quit fiddling and finally looked at him. Those eyes, they killed him. Always so big and honest. Always expecting the same level of – sometimes brutal – honesty in return. “That you’re some dumb kid?” John said, giving him the blunt response he apparently needed to hear. “You’re gonna, what, move on to the next fling when the summer’s over?” Matt didn’t flinch at the words, didn’t smile. John kept talking. “Do you think I would bring you out here if I didn’t think you could handle yourself? If I didn’t think you were gonna be the kind of guy who would have my back?” Now that he was sort of sitting up like that, John could see there was straw in Matt’s hair too, where he it had been laid down against the bedroll, out of reach of his zealously grooming fingers. He left it alone for now. Matt was still watching him with those eyes of his, waiting for him to say something real. John figured it wasn’t the best time to mention that just moments ago he had been considering not giving Matt that chance at covering his back at all, if shit happened. Yeah, he could do some stupid things – say some stupid things – when it came to this thing between them. Up to and including, it seemed, laying down his life if there was a chance it was going to save Matt’s. The light was still hitting him in little blazing patches, bouncing off his hair and turning warm and orange-y, making one dark eye light up like amber. There was no question. “Come on.” John gave in to temptation, raised his fingers to Matt’s soft, shaggy mop and watched the bits of straw he brushed loose tumble and somersault down through the air. “You know what this is, Matthew. We’re partners.” Matt smiled, finally, and pushed his cheek into John’s palm for an appreciative second before he went right back to checking out his very interesting shaft of chest-hair straw. John left him to it for a minute. Matt fidgeted like this sometimes, and it usually meant there were thoughts rattling around in that big brain he had, that needed a little time to work their way out to his mouth. What came out was usually pretty unexpected, too. “…It wasn’t that bad, you know? Growing up living with my aunt.” John drew on experience and waited a little more, for more words, before he responded. “The older I got – hell, the older I get – the more I could see… we had amazing lives back then, didn’t we? All of us?” “Mmmm,” John agreed. A direct question usually meant Matt was ready for some kind of response. He nodded a little against his pillow of hay. “We had everything,” Matt said, dropping his straw all the better to use his hands to emote with. “Sure, maybe I didn’t know it at the time, but she gave me everything, I never wanted for anything. And she never complained! Y’know? She never asked for this,” he said, making a half-gesture at his bare-chested self. “She never had kids, much less some messed up criminal kid with a lot of questions and a lot of attitude, and, let’s be honest, probably some undiagnosed paranoia issues…” Matt stopped talking abruptly, like he had gotten off the point he seemed to be having trouble making. John cocked an eyebrow and waited again. “She was so awesome. I…have a lot to be grateful for,” Matt said finally, looking down at the blankets like he was questing for his lost straw shard to fiddle with. “I always figured one day, when the time came… I’d pay it forward, you know?” “Forward?” John heard himself ask, his strategy of silently waiting for Matt to finish pushed out of his head by the way something in his gut felt suddenly like stone. “Yeah. It’s like when somebody does you a favour, but instead of returning it, you—“ “Yeah,” John cut in, keeping his voice low, “I know what it means.” The shafts of light angling in on them seemed cold all of a sudden, the dust that filtered through them dank and grey. “Well,” Matt went on, sitting all the way up now and not meeting his eye, “it’s just that you said now there’s all these orphans…I mean aren’t we all, now? And—“ John sat up too. Far enough forward that Matt wouldn’t see it if his face did something bad. “McClane?” It wasn’t until he heard Matt say it that he realized he’d gotten used to the kid calling him John. “…John?” Matt amended, and now that sounded weird too. “It’s good your aunt was so awesome,” John said, once he was sure it would come out softly enough. “I’m glad for that.” Matt didn’t say anything. His turn to use the ol’ waiting game strategy, it seemed. Apparently it was a day for realizations. It was just his shitty luck that the same day he realized there was a guy he would do literally anything in his power for – anything his sorry worthless old life could offer – would be the same day he realized that guy might need things John just couldn’t do. Matt had every right to be thinking ahead to his future, planning out how the rest of his life might, and should, be. Every right in the world, and John would be the last guy around to ever suggest that Matt shouldn’t get every damn thing he wanted out of this life, such as it might be in the world they were living in now. In fact, John hoped like hell every day lately that he would be able to give it to him. But sometimes what a man wanted, didn’t change the facts. “…I wasn’t a good parent, Matt.” Matt still didn’t speak. When John chanced a look back over his shoulder at him, he could see that this time it was out of shock. “I didn’t –“ Matt started, but John waved him off. He turned away again, mostly because he just didn’t think he could keep looking at him. Those eyes, oh God. John didn’t ever think he’d seen them quite that big. “Hey—“ Matt tried again, but John cut him off. “I wasn’t,” he said heavily. He pinched at the bridge of his nose, tried to keep the stinging feeling out of his eyes. “I was never there. For my kids. Never gave ‘em anything they needed,” he admitted, huskily. “Their mother did every last thing. And then, when this –“ John moved his hand away from his face long enough to wave it around in a way that he hoped Matt would get meant everything – the virus, the collapse of everything that had been life as they all had known it – “when all this happened, hell. I lost one, Matt.” John put out a hand, making a move to get up, but Matt was already there. Already he was moving, throwing a bare leg over him and straddling his lap to keep him in place. His hands were already sliding warmly over the back of his neck and cupping the sides of his face. His thumbs were already slipping up to the crinkles in the corners of John’s eyes, to smooth at his temples and smear away any tears that were threatening to break rank and slide down his cheeks. And when John’s face crumpled in his hands, Matt didn’t try to stop it. When John’s voice broke on the words “How could I let her go – I just let her go“ Matt didn’t argue. He didn’t say that Lucy was a grownup and John couldn’t have stopped her. He didn’t say that wanting to find her mother in the chaos was not only natural, it was what made her a McClane. He didn’t say that John couldn’t have known that that flight out to California would be one of the last. He didn’t say anything except “Hey.” Just that little word, the one syllable that said he was there. “Hey,” he said gently, when he pushed their foreheads together, and made John look at him, “hey.” And that was all. He didn’t do anything except climb naked into John’s lap, and let him hold on tight and kiss him hard. Kiss him harder and harder until John was sure that it hurt him a little. Matt let him make tight fists in his soft hair, and lay them both down again in the hay, kissing him hard and gripping him tight until John’s ragged breath evened out and he came back to himself. And then Matt still did nothing, just let John look at him, let him put a much softer kiss where his mouth looked crushed red, and swollen. “I would never ask you to do anything that you can’t,” Matt said finally, when things had gotten too quiet. John put another super-gentle kiss down on his mouth. “Doesn’t count,” he said, shrewdly. “You think I can do anything.” As usual, Matt didn’t smile at the words, and those honest, no-bullshit eyes didn’t flinch. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s what I think.” John was just considering shutting him up with a little more hard kissing when they heard it. The harsh, wailing cry was far enough in the distance, but the time to haul ass back to the truck was definitely now. “We can finish this later,” Matt said hastily, squirming out from under him so they could get dressed and load their packs. John didn’t ask whether he was referring to what they were doing naked in a hay loft, or to the conversation. He just watched the way Matt bent over to retrieve his clothing, the way he put up a hand to tousle the lingering bits of straw out of the shaggy brown mop they both knew Matt let get that long because John liked it that way. Yeah, his life was pretty good right now. He didn’t know what happened next, but he knew he would take all of the time with Matt this worthless, worn out life of his was going to give him. * “I know it’s dark in the closet, but we’ll just have to be brave,” she whispered, pulling the door nearly shut. It was too dangerous to leave it open any more than one skinny little crack. She pulled her feet in until her knees came up to her chin, so that her sneakers wouldn’t show in the crack under the door, and hugged her knees tight. They were getting pretty good at being brave. The last time they came to hide in here, Robbie didn’t even cry. But then that was two days ago, and the men that came in the house that time took all the food. Robbie cried more when he was hungry, and he was pretty fussy today. But he had his binky, and his stuffed monkey to cuddle with, and she squeezed her eyes shut and wished, for whatever was making bumping and smashing noises downstairs to see that they didn’t have any food here and just go away. They could hear it searching. Doors were slamming, one by one. First the cupboards in the kitchen, and then the bathroom in the hall, and soon, it would reach the stairs. “Clear!” a voice called out suddenly. Robbie tried to crawl for the closet door when he heard it, but his sister pulled him back and held him in her lap. “No Robbie,” she whispered, scooting back in the closet until her back was touching the wall and their mother’s long dresses brushed the top of her head. They could hear more voices now. More heavy-booted footsteps tromping around downstairs. Her brother whimpered a little but she pushed his binky a little further into his mouth and said “shhhhh.” Just because they were humans, didn’t mean they were safe. They had learned all about strangers in school, and the men downstairs sounded harsh-voiced and big. They were still searching for something, and still coming closer. Robbie whimpered again, but she couldn’t even shush him this time. They were on the stairs now. Heavy boots stomping louder and closer and she could feel the tears leak out of her eyes and onto her cheeks. She was so scared it hurt to breathe. Her chest felt like it had tight, tight straps wrapped around it and her throat was burning. Robbie squirmed in her arms – she was holding onto him too tight. She wanted to loosen her hold on him a little but they were there, in the room. She could hear the creaky bedroom door opening. Then blinding light hit them as the closet door was thrown open, and she screamed. Robbie started to cry. The man standing outside the closet said a bad word. Her eyes got used to the light and she could see him. He was big, his head was shaved bald, and he was holding a gun. She wanted to scream again but it was like her throat was too scared. The big man wasn’t pointing his gun at them though. He was getting down on one knee so he could look at them. He put his gun down and slid it away across the floor. “Hey,” he said. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurtcha.” His voice was rough and kind of scary, but it made her stop crying anyway. She nodded. Brave. “I’m a police officer. Okay?” He put his hands up in the air like he thought she might have a gun too. He didn’t look like a policeman, he didn’t have a uniform. Robbie seemed to like him though. He had stopped crying and was starting to reach for him. She pulled her brother back. “That’s not a policeman’s gun,” she sniffed, looking over at it lying on the floor in the corner. She had seen those. This one was too long, and all pointy. “Ah,” he said, “they’re special. For keeping the bad things away. We’re good guys, alright?” The people coming into the room behind him didn’t look like police either. They looked a lot more like army men, and all of them had guns like that, the big pointy kind that hung from a strap. Robbie squirmed out of her arms and crawled forward. He pulled himself up on the big officer’s shoulder, probably hoping he would give him something to eat. The man turned around to somebody behind him and said, “little help?” “You’re doing fine,” a very different sounding voice replied, and somebody new came and got down on a knee beside the officer. He had warm-looking brown eyes and a scruffy little almost-beard like her big cousin Jesse. And when he talked, his voice wasn’t rough at all. “Hi,” he said, I’m Matt.” He didn’t look like the other people in the room. He had sneakers on, instead of big black boots. And he didn’t have a gun either, he had a bow and arrow on his back. Like Princess Merida, from her favorite movie. She gave another little sniffle. “Loretta.” “That’s such a cool name,” said Matt. “You know what, it sounds a little bit like mine. …’Rett’. Sounds kind of like ‘Matt’, huh? …Can I call you Rett?” Loretta nodded. She liked Matt. “Okay Rett,” Matt smiled. “That lady back there, she’s a nurse.” Matt leaned back on his heels so she could see somebody standing by her parents’ bedroom door, who didn’t look anything like a nurse either, but maybe she was a special kind too. “We’re going to take you and your brother somewhere safe, so she can look at you, make sure you’re not sick, okay?” Loretta nodded again. “I want my Mommy,” she sniffed, and she tried hard not to, but she was crying again. “We’re gonna try to find her, sweetheart,” the big man next to Matt said. “It’s what we do.” His voice was still rough, and it still made her stop crying somehow. But now it sounded nice. Maybe she liked the big bald policeman a little bit too. He was holding Robbie properly now. Her brother’s little arms were wrapped around his neck, and he looked like he might go to sleep. “Stay close, so they can keep each other in sight,” Matt said, and the policeman nodded. “Come on,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand. “Can you show me how to get outside?” Loretta held Matt’s hand all the way down the stairs and out into the yard. The sky seemed so bright after the dark of the closet, and her mother’s roses seemed to blaze red in the sun. She could smell them in the warm air, as they walked past, and hear the bees buzzing around them. There was another sound, far away, like howling. Matt squeezed her hand. “You’ll be safe with us,” he promised. Loretta looked up at Robbie, sleeping now in the policeman’s strong arms. “I know I will,” she said. And she led them down the path and out to the long gravel driveway that led to the road. *** The screwdriver slipped again, knocking the capacitor right off the board and taking out a nice little chunk of Matt’s finger to boot. He whispered a curse, and shook his hand until the adrenaline worked its way through his system and the burning gouge subsided to a throb. Then he put everything down, pushed his hands into his hair and pulled. It did nothing to make him more alert. His hands were failing him. What he needed, Matt knew, was sleep. But that just wasn’t happening. Across the room where John lay, un-snoring, on their bed, Matt could tell it wasn’t happening for him either. He had lost track of how many nights it made that he had been working at this. And he wasn’t even sure it was going to work. But the thing was, when one of your kids was missing, doing nothing just wasn’t an option. And they had done everything else. Of course, ‘missing’ might not be the accurate term for somebody who didn’t want to be found. It had been weeks now, since Rett had disappeared, along with one of the best Jeeps in the settlement and with no other trace than a hastily scrawled note left in the kitchen. There’s something I have to do. I love you. PS. Don’t worry Matt promptly had a breakdown. John had mobilized, immediately. Week One was all about organizing. John had the whole town on alert, and every team that could be spared was tasked with a search area. They cast a net wide enough they should have been able to catch anybody under normal circumstances. But this wasn’t normal circumstances, this was Rett. And when Rett wanted to give somebody the slip…well, Matt had trained her himself. Week Two, had been Wait and See. Not John’s strong suit, and his turn for a breakdown, or at least that’s how Matt saw it. Week One had given Matt, and everybody John came into contact with, the distinct the impression that as long as he felt like he was doing something, Rett wasn’t actually gone yet. So doing nothing on Week Two? Well, John responded by throwing himself into extra chores around the property, and volunteering all over the settlement until he came home at night barely able to do anything other than collapse into bed. Whether or not he slept after said collapse, Matt couldn’t say. He had given up lying awake nights a while back. See, the thing about John freaking out, was that John was Matt’s safe-haven. His rock. So you’d think that on the rare occasion that John freaked out, Matt would freak out too. But, as it turned out, it was weird and it didn’t work that way. As Matt would never seem to learn about relationships, that was logic, and apparently logic didn’t apply. It turned out John being Matt’s rock, meant that Matt needed him so much, so desperately and imperatively, that if John lost it, Matt’s psyche just some how rejected it, found it unacceptable. And his brain set about immediately trying to fix it. Get that safe-haven back online. When John freaked out, Matt started analyzing. And what he had this whole family shitstorm boiled down to at the moment was this: John blamed himself. Shit-fact number one. He had lost not one, but two daughters now, to this fucked up post-apocalyptic wasteland they were trying to repopulate. Shit-facts numero dos, tres, and at least quatro, if not mas. But John hadn’t wanted any more kids. At least, not initially. Sure, he had come around at some point, and when it came down to it he loved them with a fierceness that Matt wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the likes of before, and frankly made him damn proud of the man he picked. But still. The idea had never been John’s. That one was on Matt. So whose fault was it all really? So, as hard as it was on both of them, Wait and See was a valid strategy, one that had been John’s own idea, if not his favourite one. Rett was a hell of a Ranger, everyone knew it, and from the looks of the stores she had taken enough provisions and gasoline to last two weeks or more. But now it was Week Three. And getting on for Four. And at some point Matt had realized that depending on where she had been trying to go, Rett could be getting out of range of the radio, and all hope of reaching them now. If she was even trying. So Matt was here, night after night, building a homemade signal-booster and trying not to basically blame himself for everything. Or blaming himself for everything and trying to build a homemade signal-booster. It all got a little too metaphysical if he thought about it too much. A signal booster that was now going to need a whole new capacitor. Matt sighed. He had more in his work room downstairs, but he was going to have to make quiet work of it. John might not be asleep, but the last thing he wanted was the whole house getting up. None of them had been sleeping all that great lately, and pity parties were best when they were parties of one, anyhow. By the time he had tiptoed through the house and back, reassembled the board and got it fitted back in, his eyelids were starting to feel heavy, and he thought he might actually be able to fall asleep after this. He would just turn it on, see if the power was working, and then hit the hay. When Matt heard it, he was certain for a minute maybe he had nodded off in his chair. It had happened before. But this was no dream. The voice he would know anywhere, the one he had been hearing in his head for days, was unmistakably coming to him through the speakers. Matt nearly injured himself again fumbling to get at the microphone. “Rett!” he shouted, “Baby, can you hear me? Rett!” There was nothing but static in reply. “No!” Matt reached for the dial, afraid to change the frequency and lose her, but desperate to try and get her back. There was a loud crackle, and then Rett’s voice again. “Dad? …Dad, are you there?” Tears were fogging his vision, but he could hear the bedsprings creak as John struggled up off the mattress to come to the radio. “I’m here,” Matt choked. Although he wasn’t sure she heard it. “Where’s Dinah?” Matt waved a hand around in the air, even though she couldn’t see him. “Off duty,” he said, still having trouble choking out words, and definitely not bothered to explain that Dinah had forced him to take the radio from headquarters home, because they were sick of him being there 24/7, tinkering and cursing and falling asleep on the desk. “Dad?” Rett’s voice crackled again. “Is Pop around?” “I’m here, sweetie.” John put a hand down on Matt’s shoulder as he bent toward the mic. It felt warm, and Matt realized belatedly it had been days since they touched. Matt put his hand down on top of John’s. John squeezed. “Good,” Rett was saying, “Because…I’ve got somebody here you might want to talk to.” There was a pause from the radio, and then the grip on Matt’s shoulder went suddenly way too tight, and Matt abandoned the mic button to grapple at John with both hands, because the next voice they heard brought his knees to the floor. “Hi Dad,” Lucy said. “Sorry I never called.” “Lu—“ John stammered, and the rest of the name never made it out, but it didn’t matter because Lucy couldn’t hear them as long as Matt was gripping John tightly instead of manning the mic. She was still talking, and they listened, drinking in the voice they had both long given up on ever hearing again. “Nobody here is that great with fixing radios,” Lucy was saying. “Luckily it turns out I have this sister. …Apparently.” There was some more static and they could hear a chuckle out of Lucy along with the rustle of clothing that might have been the sound of a one-armed hug. “…Who tells me one of her dads is some kind of programming geek?” By now they had both recovered enough to give a shaky little laugh. Lucy. She hadn’t changed a bit. “Yeah…about that,” Matt said, when he could get a finger on the button again. There were still tears swimming in his eyes and he laughed a little, if only to break up the way relief kept on cracking his voice. “Lucy…I think we should break up.” Another pause. Then, “my husband will be so relieved!” Lucy laughed, sounding maybe like she was just as tearful. “That’s not the best part,” It was Rett’s voice again, excited and manic. “You guys are GRANDPAS!” You have—” “Hey,” Lucy cut across her, “Hey there kiddo, save something for the sequel!” She sounded like like she might have confiscated the mic. “They’ll meet everybody when we get there.” “Luce,” John said, “Wait.” And Matt moved over, so he could take over the mic. “‘Get here’?” “That’s what I said,” Lucy crackled through the speaker again. Matt looked at John’s profile, he didn’t think it was just the nighttime gloom that made it so unreadable. “Lucy,” he said after a pause. “Honey, are you sure? You got family. I’m not sure it’s safe….” There was a pause from the other end again. Longer this time, and Matt started to worry he might have lost them. “I’m sure, Dad,” she said finally, although there was more crackling now, and her voice did seem to be coming through to them a little misty and weak. “I’m coming home,” they heard her say. “I mean, unless you guys wanna trek out here. You, and Matt. And Robbie. And the twins. I hear you’re really good Rangers.” “Matt trained ‘em,” John responded, gruffly. “They’re the very best.” There was another pause, and what sounded like it might be another hug. It was getting harder to hear. “Then it’s a plan,” Lucy said at last, “I mean yeah, the weather’s good here, but I heard you have electricity three nights a week out there. …And I really miss running water.” “Okay then,” John said, “Rett honey, you bring her home. …We’re trusting you, baby.” And from the choked way it came out, Matt was fairly convinced his voice wasn’t going to let him say much more. “Thanks Pop,” she said after the usual pause and crackle. Rett was raising her voice now, almost to a shout. “Dad? The signal is starting to suck. We’ll try you again tomorrow okay? Five o’clock your time. We’re planning everything. We leave in a week!” “Okay!” Matt replied, probably a little too loudly himself, if he didn’t want to wake the twins, sleeping in the next room. “And Rett?” There was no response, but he said it anyway. “We love you,” even though he wasn’t sure she would hear. “…We love you.” When Matt turned, blinking tears out of his eyes as he did, John was still on his knees. “You’re a grandpa!” Matt teased, but John’s expression was ashen, it barely registered the jibe. “…And a really. Really great father,” Matt said truthfully, sliding out of the chair to join him kneeling on the floor. “It’s all thanks to you,” John’s voice finally broke, and he pulled Matt roughly to him. He sat back on his haunches, so Matt could wrap himself around him and hang on. “You mean it’s all my fault?” Matt said into John’s shoulder, as John wrapped him up too, putting both arms warmly around his back. “The hell you talking about, now?” John asked, his voice equally muffled in Matt’s neck. He put a little kiss there and sat back a little further to let him talk. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened, and you never wanted this.” “What, to lose a kid? Twice?” “No,” Matt said, irritably, but then, “Yes!” Hey, he was really tired. “You never wanted any kids to lose. This family, all the drama. It was all my idea.” “It was the best idea you’ve ever had,” John said, smiling so even in the gloomy dark room Matt could see his eyes twinkle. “And that’s saying a lot.” Matt kissed him then. It had been days. It felt like… well it felt like he needed to be doing it a lot more. So he did. But then he felt like they had to talk more too. So he stopped. “I never said I didn’t want this family, Matthew. Never,” John pledged, heartily. “I guess I just…” “Didn’t know you wanted it?” Matt laughed. “…Didn’t think I could have it,” John finished, solemnly. Matt kissed him again. And some more. “Maybe it’s nobody’s fault?” Matt mused, when they had broken off kissing, just so John could wrap him up in his arms and squeeze him close again. Safe-haven back online. Rock officially reinstated. “Maybe it was just time?” he went on. “You know, for them to grow up. Go their own way? Maybe this is just how becoming an adult goes now. You know, with the whole living in anarchy thing the kids are doing these days." “Oh hell,” John swore, his voice still muffled against Matt’s shoulder. “Does that mean we’re going to have to go through it three more times?” Matt pulled away again for another kiss. “They say boys are easier?” he suggested, not sounding all that hopeful. Instead of an answer, John wrapped his arms around him one last time, and stood up. All the better for carrying him across the room and back to bed. Only time would tell. For now, Matt hung on tight.
10732473	Going blind but not deaf	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Harry Hart \| Galahad, Gary \"Eggsy\" Unwin, Merlin (Kingsman)", "Fandom": "Kingsman (Movies)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by elletromil", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-26T00:00:00", "words": "809", "Additional Tags": "Fluff, Getting Together, Humor", "Relationship": "Harry Hart \| Galahad/Gary \"Eggsy\" Unwin", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	“Be right back, I need to change.”Eggsy’s feed goes dark and Merlin finally acknowledges Harry who’s been standing behind him for quite some time already.“Not too disappointed of not getting a free show I hope?”“This is not why I am here.” He’s only half-lying and judging by Merlin’s smirk, the handler is perfectly aware of it. It doesn’t stop Harry from persisting in his lie though. “I have those autorisations you needed.”“Hmmhmm.” He grabs the papers Harry is handing him and doesn’t even give them a cursory look before putting them away to file later. “Strange how you always seem to have paperwork for me whenever Galahad’s close to his hotel room.”“That’s purely coincidental.”Merlin snorts and if Harry thought his friend would let the matter lie like he usually do, he’s proven wrong pretty quickly.“The first time maybe, but I’m sure your decisions to come down so often is greatly influenced by how often Galahad forgets to turn off his feed when he gets naked.”“I’ve come here plenty of time when he’s just doing usual mission stuff too.”“I’ll concede you that one, but don’t you find it strange how you never seem to come around whenever I’m not handling Galahad’s mission?”This time, Merlin loses his smirk, raising an eyebrow, clearly expecting an answer. He’d probably let him get away with not answering since they're technically still on the clock, but if he’s being honest with himself, keeping silent about his profound affection for Eggsy is starting to weight heavy on him.“What do you want from me Merlin? Admit that I worry about him more than I should? You don’t have to tell me he’s more than capable to deal with whatever comes his way, I know he is. But I still worry and I always will. Sue me for being an old fool in love.”There, he’s said the words out loud for the first and probably the only time. It’s a bit of a shame that Eggsy won’t ever get to know just how much he’s loved, but truly, it’s better that way. He wouldn’t want him to be uncomfortable around him for anything in the world.However, before either of them can say anything more, the screen that had been displaying Eggsy’s feed gets on again.“Did I hear that right? Are you- Are you in love with me?” He should look ridiculous, staring in the mirror as if he can see them through it, in his pants and struggling to get out of his undershirt, but, like always, Harry is stricken by just how beautiful he is.From the corner of his eyes, he notices Merlin’s apologetic expression, meaning that the handler mustn’t have noticed that Eggsy had only shut off the video part of his feed and thus had heard everything they had said.He could still deny it, find a way to turn his own words into something they’re not, but the cat’s out of the bag. And even if he does it for a living, Harry has grown rather tired of lying all the time.“Yes Eggsy, you heard me right.” Eggsy gasps softly and finally frees himself from his undershirt, letting it fall on the ground without even seeming to notice. “But you needn’t concern yo-”“'Needn’t concern myself?' Pfffft, you’re cute. Of course I’ll bloody concern myself with it!” Harry winces and braces himself for Eggsy’s rejection, for the breaking of all that ties them together, but whatever harsh words he was imagining, they never come. Instead, Eggsy’s expression turns soft and longing. Harry wishes he could reach out to him, cup his cheek in the palm of his hand and maybe kiss some happiness back into his eyes. “You love me, Harry. I- I never thought…” He cuts himself off, doubts crossing his face and Harry doesn’t know what scenarios he’s coming up with, only that he doesn’t care much for the sad curl of Eggsy’s lips.“Well yes, I do. I do love you Eggsy. And if you’re willing to give me a chance, I-”Again, Eggsy interrupts him, but this time with joyous laughter and he seem to light up the whole room with just his smile.“Oh, Harry! You’re really cute. Of course I am ‘willing’!”He wants nothing more than for Eggsy to see him now, know that he’s made him just as happy as Eggsy seems to be, but that is unfortunately not to be.“Alright, as much as I am glad you’ll both stop with your pining, you’re still on a mission Galahad. And Arthur, I am sure you have more paperwork to fill out.”He does indeed and usually Harry would dread it, but today, with Eggsy’s laughter still echoing in his ears, he finds that he doesn’t mind it as much.
10723182	Metal Arms May Break My	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron)", "Fandom": "Voltron: Legendary Defender", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-24T00:00:00", "words": "1,150", "Additional Tags": "Drowning, CPR, Broken Bones, Whump, Lance (Voltron) Whump", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	The current carried the Blue Lion away faster than Shiro or Keith had expected. It was fast, faster than they anticipated, and Blue was swept away in the blink of an eye. The Black Lion flew alongside the river’s edge in an attempt to catch up with Blue, but skidded to a halt when something caught Shiro’s eye–a patch of brown in the water–the top of Lance’s head. Blue had ejected him so he wouldn’t be swept away with her. However in doing so, she hadn’t realized that Lance had removed his helmet when it had been cracked in the initial crash landing, obstructing his vision. Shiro was sure she’d never have tossed him into the river if she’d known that it’d drown him.“Lance!” Shiro called out over the crashing sounds of the river, “Lance, can you hear me?” Lance couldn’t hear Shiro, but he was clearly still conscious. He was bobbing up and down in the water, and Shiro’s stomach tied itself in another knot every time he disappeared.“Shiro, what are you waiting for? Get Black in there!” Keith called over the comms. “I’m afraid that’ll send him even further down,” Shiro replied, “And I don’t think I could grab him with the speed that the current is going. I could end up hurting him.” “So what’s the plan?” Keith asked frantically. “I don’t know,” Shiro admitted, “I–I don’t have one.”Only seconds before Shiro had almost decided “fuck it” and gone in after Lance knowing that it would likely end in disaster, the top of Lance’s head bobbed above the surface of the water once more, no longer being dragged with the current. The current of the river had thrown him against a rock, and he was gripping it with everything he had. With Lance securely on a hard surface, Black could swoop in and grab the blue paladin in its mouth. Keith landed the Red Lion next to Black and immediately got out to guide Lance out of the metal jaws.“Keith,” Shiro prompted desperately, clambering down from his own Lion as Keith situated Lance in a recumbent position.“He’s not breathing.”Shiro took Keith’s place kneeling beside Lance and began CPR. However, he didn’t take into account that the metal arm wouldn’t have the same kind of give that a flesh palm would, and immediately felt three rapid pops upon the first compression. Shiro staggered backwards in shock.“I–Keith, you need to–because I can’t–I already broke–fuck.”Keith understood enough of the bits of sentences to know what Shiro wanted.“I don’t know how,” he warned.“Press rhythmically–faster than that–good, and harder. The pressure’s got to go deep.” Shiro counted out 30 compressions before he motioned for Keith to pause so he could breathe for the blue paladin. He pinched his nose, tipped his head back, and made a seal over his lips to allow his breath to fill Lance’s saturated chest cavity. As soon as Lance’s airway was open and there was air in his lungs, his eyes flew open and he started coughing. Shiro helped him to sit up, coughing an alarming amount of water out of his lungs. It came up in waves, sounding painful and harsh, and even once the bulk of the water had been expelled, he was still coughing to clear the small droplets that remained. “Breathe slowly,” Shiro instructed, rubbing Lance’s back. After a few minutes of that, Lance finally seemed to be able to take at least a few breaths without coughing, which was helping his complexion. He didn’t look so grey anymore. However, being able to breathe brought the pain in his rib cage to his attention. “Jesus–ow–” he moaned. Lance laid back, trying to ease some of the pressure on his rib cage.“Are you okay?” Keith asked.“Yeah,” Lance managed through a clenched jaw, “I think I may have bruised a rib when I fell in the water; it’s no big deal.” Shiro’s face fell. “Actually,” he confessed, “I did that. I’m so sorry. I was trying to do CPR, and my metal arm–I didn’t even think about it.” He braced himself for Lance to lash out, but when he finally met Lance’s gaze, it was kind and patient. “Thank you,” he smiled. “You saved me. Of course you weren’t thinking about your arm,” he smirked, “I just drowned. Ribs will heal.”Shiro felt relief crash over him in a wave. “You don’t have to be so quick to forgive me,” he said skeptically, “I think I broke three of your ribs.”“Dang, muscles,” Lance chuckled, coughing immediately, “That’s almost impressive.”“You’re not handling this like a person,” Keith informed.“Eh,” Lance shrugged. “Can we go back to the castle?” Lance was trying his best to hide it, but he was clearly in a lot of pain. Shiro scooped him up as gently as he could and carried him back to the lions. “Seriously, though,” Shiro repeated, “I’m really sorry.”“Please stop feeling bad about it,” Lance begged. “You did what you had to do. I know you’re used to people jumping you when things go wrong, but you’re with us now, and your good intentions matter. I know you’d never try to hurt me, Shiro.”That. That was what Shiro had been so afraid of. That Lance would look at Shiro and forever associate him with this pain, just as seeing the Galra soldiers sent phantom pains through his arm and face. That Lance would never be able to trust Shiro to help him again because he’d accidentally hurt him. That Lance’s trust had been shattered with his ribs.It made Shiro want to cry when Lance smiled at him gently, despite his eyebrows being knitted together in pain and his hand protectively guarding his abdomen. “Shiro?” Lance asked. “You okay?”“Don’t worry about me, you lunatic,” Shiro deflected, trying to blink back tears and avoid Lance’s eyes.“Shit, are you–you’re really that upset about this?”“Of course I am!” Shiro blew up, “I hurt you! I could have killed you, if I’d pressed any higher up on your chest!”Lance winced. “You didn’t mean to.”“But it happened.”“Well,” Lance admitted, “yeah. It did. But we’re a team, we’re fighting dangerous enemies, and we’re together, like, all the time. You can’t think that accidents aren’t going to happen.”“I still feel bad.”Lance smiled and reached out to pat Shiro’s head, wincing against the pain in his ribs. “I know you do, buddy,” he cooed. “Don’t worry. A couple hours in the pod and I’ll be good as new.”Shiro could see how exhausted Lance was and he didn’t like the wet sound of his coughing, so he let the subject drop. He touched his scar with his metal fingers and wondered if he really believed in “good as new.”
10731261	If You Hold Me Closer	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Barry Allen, Iris West", "Fandom": "The Flash (TV 2014)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Irissswests", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-25T00:00:00", "words": "563", "Additional Tags": "Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst", "Relationship": "Barry Allen/Iris West", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Immediately he pulls her into his side, she's staring at the spot where Cynthia and Abra Kadabra just stepped into the breach. He sees the slight tremble of her lips, can see her hold on her emotions slipping away, can see the shine of tears in her eyes. She tucks herself into his side and he squeezes her shoulder. A quiet sob escapes her and she's turning fully into his body, fingers curling into his suit and his arms circle around her as he tries to shield her from everything that is threatening to hurt her. Silently she cries into his chest and he tightens his arms around her trying to offer her a much protection and safety as he he can right now. One hand settles on the back of her head his fingers sliding into her hair and gently scratching at her scalp in the way he knows calms her down.And he just holds her. Because he needs this too.He wishes that for once she'd give a damn about her own life. That she'd be selfish and let him do whatever it takes to save her. Because he would. If she asked, he'd do anything to save her, to keep her alive, to keep her by his side, to make sure she lives a long full life. But she's stubborn as hell and selfless almost to a fault. As much as it frustrates him he will always loves that about her. He loves her big heart and and loves her concern for others, but now he wants her to put herself first.He can feel her faith slipping, and he thinks she's starting to lose faith that she'll live, losing faith in him. And that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but honestly he can't blame her. Not only has she just watched a chance at saving her life disappear, but he's done nothing so far to prove that he can save her. Nothing has changed the future. But he's not giving up. He'll come up with a new plan. He has to. Because he's not letting her die. He'll fight for her life until the end and he'll do whatever it takes.For now he pushes those thoughts away and focuses on the woman in his arms. She's barely made any noise, but she's still clinging to him and he drops a kiss on the crown of her head and tries to give her all of his strength.But then she's taking a step back and he frames her face with his hands and gently wipes away her tears with the pads of this thumbs. Her own hands come up and her fingers close around his wrists, keeping his hands where they are. Her tears are gone, but he continues to stroke her cheeks with his thumbs because her eyes have fallen shut and because she's gripping his wrists tightly like she's barely hanging on.All he wants to do is reassure her. To tell her that he's going to save her, but he knows that she probably doesn't want his promises right now. She doesn't need to hear him tell her it's going to be okay. Because right now he's not sure if it is.So he just tells her the only thing he knows is true right now and hopes it's enough, "I love you."
10768095	Cramping My Style	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Gary \"Eggsy\" Unwin, Harry Hart \| Galahad, John Watson, Jim Moriarty", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Misterdevere", "chapters": "2/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-30T00:00:00", "words": "918", "Additional Tags": "Trans Character, Trans John, Menstruation", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Harry Hart \| Galahad/Gary \"Eggsy\" Unwin, Jim Moriarty/John Watson", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Kingsman (Movies), Sherlock (TV)", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Eggsy slammed the front door shut and stormed into the living room, flopping down on the sofa next to Harry. "Good day, darling?" Eggsy glared, and oh, if looks could kill... "I'll take that as a 'no', then.""Fucking periods." Eggsy folded his arms across his chest and slumped down further in his seat."Ah, yes, it's that time of the month. It's hardly a surprise though, dear." He had a smile in his voice and he put his arm around Eggsy's shoulders to pull him against his side. Eggsy shrugged it off."It ain't funny, it's fucking degrading, and knowing it's gonna happen don't make it any better. I don't expect you to get it but it's fucking horrible, it makes me feel sick." He did look a bit queasy, and it seemed to get worse the more he talked about it. "Have you got any idea what it's like having your body go against everything your brain wants, everything you feel, and you can't do nothing about it? All I want is to feel like a man but I ain't ever gonna be one while I've got a uterus that decides to attack itself every month."Harry hadn't expected a reaction quite like that. He knew it bothered Eggsy but he rarely let it show, and he'd never spoken about it like that. "I see. And you do still identify as a man, I take it?""Oh fuck off, Harry. What kinda question's that? I think I'm a bit old to have people telling me it's a fucking phase." He pushed himself up and went to storm off when Harry grabbed his wrist to stop him."Darling, that's not what I meant. I mean, if you identify as a man, then you are one, that's all there is to it." He tugged at Eggsy's arm and Eggsy followed, sitting back down. "I know that this is difficult for you and I'm sorry you have to put up with it. If you want to do something about it, we can look into it, but it won't make you any less of a man if you decide not to. I'm here to support you, whatever you decide. Even if you decide you just want to stay exactly as you are and spend a couple of days each month shouting at your grumpy old boyfriend."Eggsy curled against his side, resting his head on his shoulder. It was a while before he spoke. "You're not grumpy. Or old." He lifted his head to look up at Harry. "Sorry I was a dick to you, it's just frustrating. And thanks. Love you.""I love you too, darling." He kissed Eggsy and smiled back down at him as he tucked his face back into Harry's chest. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- John was already curled up in bed by the time Jim came home. With their jobs being what they were - Jim often out late and John being up early - that wasn't particularly unusual, except for the fact that it was only 6 o'clock."John?" He whispered, not wanting to disturb him if he'd already gone to sleep, but as he walked around to John's side of the bed, he could see his eyes open. He sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on John's cheek, "What's the matter, sweetheart?"John smiled at him weakly. "I'm fine, love. Just having a bit of an early night.""It's more than a bit early. Talk to me, Johnny."John turned his head away and mumbled into his pillow, "I came on today.""Shit. I'm sorry, darling." Jim bent over to place a kiss on his head. "Is there anything I can do? Do you need anything?"John rolled over, away from Jim's touch. "Stop it. Every month. Every bloody month I have to put up with this and wonder if this is the time you're going to decide that you'd rather have a real man.""Hey, hey, look at me." When he didn't, Jim gently turned John's face back to him. "You are a real man. My real man. And I'm keeping you whether you like it or not so you'd better get used to the idea, Johnny boy."John returned his smile and shook his head fondly. "This is stupid, this is. How many people deal with this every day without thinking about it, and I can't even get out of bed. My own body, letting me down.""Don't be so hard on yourself, you do your best. It'll be over in a couple of days, and you won't have to worry about it for another few weeks. In the meantime, you stay right here, and I'm going to take care of you. Starting with ice cream, a nice cup of tea, and an early night. How does that sound?" John nodded and Jim leant over to kiss him. "I'll be right back."John grabbed his hand as he went to stand. "Thanks, love." Jim squeezed back and disappeared, only to return a few minutes later with two cups of tea in one hand and the other arm full of ice cream, chocolate and crisps. He set the cups down on the bedside table, dropped everything else on the bed, put on the first crappy tv show he could find and climbed under the covers to snuggle up to John. If he was going to have to deal with the bullshit of periods, he couldn't think of a better way to do it.
10718943	arse worship	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Sherlock Holmes, John Watson", "Fandom": "Sherlock (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by threadoflife", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-24T00:00:00", "words": "548", "Additional Tags": "PWP, Smut, Body Worship, sherlock likes to display himself, john likes to watch, Voyeurism, frotting against the bed", "Relationship": "Sherlock Holmes/John Watson", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "sherlock ficlets", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Hips pull back—slow—slow—cant up, just the slightest bit: the fabric d r a g s over his cock, nice enough but not as nice as when he’s pushing forward.He stays like that for a bit. Hips kicked back, the small of his back rising upward to his backside, on lewd display with him sprawled on his front across the bed, legs wide apart, face buried in the pillow, back an inward arch. It makes him feel decadent; makes him feel filthy, the knowledge of how his arse is raised just so, invitingly, in contrast to the flatness of the rest of his body.He has a bit of a plush arse, as John likes to tell him. Just enough fat to grip; just enough fat so the cheeks jiggle when spanked or fucked.Just pretty enough to arrest John completely where he sits on a chair opposite to the bed on which Sherlock is gradually humping his brain cells away.He knows his cheeks peel apart just a bit, like this. He can feel it happen, the way the skin first opens up at the top where it begins sticking together—slightly, not too much, just enough to draw attention to the shadowed crease beneath.He likes helping it along.Loosening his fist in the pillow, he reaches back and grips his left arse cheek to just hold it. Feeling the supple, generous flesh, he can’t resist giving himself a squeeze, and then he’s already kneading it with a groan.From across the room, John’s breathing grows heavier.And then one hand isn’t enough.Soon he has both his cheeks in his hands, and the moment he grips them tight and pries them away from one another is the one that makes him lose him breath like he’s kicked in the gut. He knows what it looks like, now, what he looks like: the pale, sensitive strip of skin in between exposed with his hole at the centre of it, tight with a darkish taint, contracting visibly under a few crinkly hairs that become curiously soft when John laps his tongue over his hole obsessively.God, he’s such a slut. He’s such a slut and he loves it.He’s so completely submerged in his sluttiness–visualising the rise of his arse behind closed eyes, the round swell of it, his hands completely spanning each cheek and spreading them apart, his pornographic sounds (“uh-uhhhnn”) accompanying his stuttered humps forwards–that he doesn’t realise the sensation of heat, at first.But it’s there: between his arse, right on the exposed pucker of his clenching hole (which his fingers try so hard to reach, just a bit, just–). He notices it the next time he squeezes his cheeks tight together, as in between, there’s a curious impression of dampness, of warmth, that wasn’t there before. When he whines and pulls them apart again–revelling in that dirty moment when sticky skin peels apart–there it is. Heat. Heat, and breath, bit humid, like–“Ohmygod,” Sherlock moans, incoherently, “oh–oooohh,” thickly, rumbling, an uncoordinated mess of vowels groaned into the pillow that’s wet beneath his face.–like John behind him, kneeling before the bed with his face right between Sherlock’s arse cheeks, breathing hot and fast against it.
10796979	Remembered	{ "Archive Warning": "Major Character Death", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, John Watson, Eurus Holmes", "Fandom": "Sherlock (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by RoughTweedAction (Donya)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-04T00:00:00", "words": "547", "Additional Tags": "Holmes killing Holmes, Angst", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	'Well, not on my watch,' Sherlock said firmly and lowered the gun.Mycroft knew, simply knew what he was about to do, yet it did not ease the shock. Before Sherlock finished his final speech, Mycroft already calculated the chances of stopping him. Sherlock did not prolong his own agony, pressed the cold metal under his chin and then all hope was gone. Neither Mycroft nor John was fast enough to stop him from pulling the trigger.'Ten. Nine,' Sherlock counted. Determined to spare his brother and friend, calm and prepared for the ultimate sacrifice. He ignored Eurus' protests, avoided Mycroft's eyes, disregarded John's begging. When he reached four and continued his ominous counting, Mycroft stopped thinking and instinctively rushed towards him to yank the gun out of his grip. Predictably, Sherlock did not allow that to happen. He shot himself before Mycroft reached him.The time stopped. All sounds were muted. Mycroft watched helplessly as Sherlock fell down, lifeless. Nothing he would do could bring him back, undo this mistake and all those that led them to Sherrinford. His lifelong mission to protect Sherlock, save him from himself, from their sister, ended as a failure.Mycroft swayed on his feet, clueless about what to do. The voice of reason in his head advised him to make Sherlock's death count by finishing his final case. Eurus was still dangerous, still in control and only a Holmes immune to her manipulations could end it. Mycroft and John could not possibly stay any longer in the room with Sherlock's body, they had to move on, literally and figuratively. And yet Mycroft did not even cast a single glance t the screen to asses Eurus' mental state. Instead, he made the mistake of coming closer to Sherlock, foolishly hoping his little brother was still alive. No therapy, no drugs would ever let him erase the image from his mind.He only realised he was crying when John told him to stop. He felt his hand on his shoulder, looked up, fully expecting a punishing blow. Craved it, physical pain would help him come back to reality and not escape to his mind palace. John did not appear particularly distraught. He had, of course, witnessed death, knew how to repress his emotions. He would mourn Sherlock later after Eurus was back in her cell.'Get up, Mycroft, we don't have time for this.'Mycroft did as he was told, even though he was shaking and weak with nausea. He only looked away from Sherlock when John forcibly turned him to the screen.'Get a grip on yourself. You got us into this mess and you'll get us out.'Eurus was no less shocked than Mycroft. Although Jim Moriarty expected Sherlock to follow in his footsteps, she clearly thought he would choose to shoot Mycroft. Sherlock was her favourite, she spent years planning their reunion, contacted his obsessive adversary, prepared tasks and puzzles and Sherlock left the scene before the big finale. Eurus stared at them, lost for words.Mycroft was similarly silent, unsure if he wanted to leave Sherrinford at all. He had always been Sherlock's big brother, Eurus' big brother. He failed both siblings. He could not imagine being just Mycroft Holmes, free from the duty of keeping Sherlock safe.
10791678	Nenufar Corazon puro	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Nuada (Hellboy), John Myers, Hellboy (Hellboy), Abe Sapien, Nuala (Hellboy)", "Fandom": "Hellboy (Movies)", "Language": "Español", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by GrimmjowKurosaki19", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-01T00:00:00", "words": "2,157", "Additional Tags": "Protective Nuada, Protective Hellboy, Loving John, pure of heart", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "John Myers/Nuada, Nuala/Abe Sapien, Nuada & Nuala, Hellboy & John Myers", "Series": "El lenguaje de las flores.", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	No debemos perder la fe en la humanidad que es como el océano: no se ensucia porque algunas de sus gotas estén sucias.-Mahatma Gandhi. Es cierto, Nuada odia a los humanos. Pero de hecho el elfo está convencido de que John es por lo menos un cuarto elfo, o algo. No hay forma de que John Myers sea humano. No hay forma de que su corazón, su corazón, puro y tranquilo, de palpitar fuerte y sin vacilaciones. No es posible que ese corazón sea humano. Eso es lo que Abraham le dijo cuando le asignaron a John Myers como su guardia, de la misma forma en que habían elegido al joven agente como cuidador de Hellboy hace un año “John Myers es peculiar” Le dijo el Icthyo Sapien “Nuestro joven John posee el corazón más puro que haya sentido, incluyendo a mi querida Nuala” Añadió mirándolo a los ojos “No hay mancha en su espíritu, no hay nada que indique que sea humano.” Ponderó “Y sin embargo lo es, humano como todos los de su especie, genéticamente predispuesto a errar y a pecar, pero sin la capacidad para actuar como sus compañeros humanos. John es peculiar, verdaderamente peculiar.” Nuada recuerda salir de la enardecido y amargamente divertido con toda la conversación. Un humano de corazón puro ¿Un humano con un corazón más puro que su hermana? ¿Su hermana que se apuñaló a sí misma en el estomago para evitar la aniquilación de la raza humana? ¿Su hermana que pudo haber muerto de no ser porque Abraham la trató inmediatamente? No hay forma. John Myers tal vez no sea tan horrible como el resto de la humanidad, pero tampoco hay forma de que exista un humano sin mancha. Sin culpa.Entonces el príncipe, ahora rey, el rey parricida. Entonces Nuada conoce a Myers. Nada especial. Piel pálida pero no de marfil como la suya, ojos azules, casi grises, oscuros y grandes con pequeñas pestañas adornando rojizos parpados atacados por el frío inclemente de la ciudad que nunca duerme, (porque los humanos no necesitan dormir, los humanos viven de sus vicios, de sus maquinas y de sus toxinas,) de cabello negro, de estatura media, no muy frágil, no muy fuerte. John Myers es el epitome de la neutralidad y tal vez en eso descansa su rareza.Myers lo ve y sonríe, sin tomar en cuenta que él casi termina con su vida hace unas cuantas semanas, antes de que su hermana se sacrificara por la humanidad, antes de que Nuada tuviera que entregar sus habilidades al B.P.R.D para evitar otra guerra entre su gente y los humanos, una guerra que él no podría ganar sin su ejército, ese ejército que podría costarle la vida de su hermana, si alguna piensa en despertarlo otra vez.Myers le sonríe y corre hasta él, perfectamente cómodo en su traje negro“Rey Nuada” Le dice “Soy el agente John Myers y estaré asignado de asegurarme de su protección.” No hay resentimiento en su voz, no hay nada además de sorpresa y emoción. Como un niño.Nuada siempre ha pensado que los niños son lo mejor que la raza de los humanos tiene para ofrecer a la tierra. Lástima que ellos deban crecer, sinceramente Nuada les hubiera hecho un favor al terminar con sus vidas antes de que pudieran ser corrompidos por su naturaleza sucia.“Para evitar que aniquile a tus compatriotas querrás decir” Le corrige con veneno.“No, su majestad” Reitera, “Mi trabajo es asegurar que tenga alguien cuidando su espalda dentro del campo de batalla y que todas sus necesidades sean satisfechas durante su estancia en el Bureau, no tengo ordenes para espiarlo, ni manejarlo.” Nuada lo mira a los ojos, respira hondo por la nariz y escucha su palpitar.No hay mentira, no hay nada que insinúe que su manejador, su compañero aparentemente, le este mintiendo.Los humanos son deshonestos por naturaleza, piensa el rey, puede que el humano no le este mintiendo por el momento, pero ocurrirá, porque siempre es así. No hay excepciones. En las siguientes semanas Nuada no puede quitarse al chico de encima, Hellboy los sigue de cerca, siempre atento a como el rey trata a su antiguo cuidador, gruñendo si Nuada levanta mucho la voz, mirándolo amenazadoramente cuando el rey está a punto de insultar al joven agente, oprimiendo su hombro con su gran mano de piedra cuando Nuada trata de alejar al chico con alguna orden imposible.Si John Myers nota esto, no lo dice ni lo hace saber, él sonríe cada vez que ve a Hellboy y lo abraza preguntándole por su día y por cómo está la creadora de fuego, Hellboy siempre sonríe de vuelta, una sonrisa falsa, forzada y culpable. Nuada sabe que el demonio envió a John a la tundra congelada que es la Antártica y de no ser por Abraham sugiriendo al joven agente para encargarse de él, entonces el chico aun estaría congelándose en ese lugar. Sin embargo, Nuada no puede sentir resentimiento emanando del joven y no hay nada amargo en su olor, excepto por el residuo del café que Myers acostumbra consumir por las mañanas. Nuada no sabe porque lo hace pero un día decide proteger a John, ellos están afuera, en un caso, persiguiendo un incubo cuando ocurre. El demonio alado emprende el vuelo toma a John desde los hombros y el agente no hace nada además de dejar caer su arma y mirar al incubo a los ojos con una sonrisa drogada en los labios.Nuada corre más rápido, salta sobre un auto y hasta un edificio, el incubo lo nota y se apresura a besar a su compañero, quien no hace nada, ni siquiera responder el beso o alejarse cuando el demonio muerde su labio con afilados dientes, su visión perdida en la nada. Nuada salta desde la punta del edificio, sostiene su lanza con fuerza y atraviesa el corazón del demonio asegurándose de no lastimar a John. El demonio cae con fuerza al suelo y Nuada lo olvida en pos de sostener a John en sus brazos y tratar de caer lo más delicadamente posible en unos arbustos. John no da señales de entendimiento a pesar de estar obviamente despierto pero Nuada sabe que el agente saldrá de su trance con el tiempo, los íncubos son demonios débiles y no hay razón para preocuparse.John despierta a las dos de la tarde del día siguiente, Nuada había dejado su habitación compartida para pedir un vaso de agua y un sándwich de atún y mayonesa para su compañero. El rey había visto al pelinegro comer lo mismo todas las mañas, excepto que con una copa de café con leche en vez de agua. A Nuada no le gusta el olor del café en John, amargo y ocultando la dulzura de la leche y el olor natural de su cuidador. Como un segundo pensamiento, Nuada pide un pequeño plato de miel y se aleja de la cocina con la comida cuidadosamente posicionada en una bandeja de madera blanca.Nuada entra a la habitación con la bandeja en las manos y una daga escondida en su pierna, hay un olor viciado alrededor del agente, el hedor del incubo inundando los poros de su compañero, como salitre ensuciando el mar. El hedor hace que Nuada no pueda tranquilizarse y que todos sus sentidos estén alerta.“Lo siento” Murmura John, con la voz ronca y los ojos brillantes “No sé que me pasó.”Nuada se acerca a la cama, con una expresión indescifrable en su rostro prístino, ayudando a John a acomodarse contra los colchones en su espalda, entregándole el vaso de agua y acomodando la comida en el regazo de John “Está bien” Le tranquiliza el elfo “Después de todo solo eres humano.”“Duele” Comenta John “Duele saber que el incubo está muerto, es como si hubiera tomado algo de mi ¿Sabes? No lo entiendo.”“Es parte de su naturaleza” Responde Nuada “Los demonios toman y siguen tomando porque después de todo son solo criaturas degradadas de la humanidad, más fuertes, más codiciosas, ellos quieren y toman y destruyen todo lo que es hermoso en este mundo.”“HB no es así” Replica John con débiles ojos desafiantes. “Y yo tampoco.”“No” Responde Nuada “Ustedes no son así.” Concede “Y es por eso que terminan heridos con tanta frecuencia.”John se disculpa otra vez y permite que Nuada lo alimente con pequeñas cucharadas de miel antes de tomar su sándwich por su cuenta y terminar de comer. Finalmente Nuada limpia todo y regresa a la cocina, ninguno de los dos habla sobre el asunto pero ambos sienten que algo definitivamente ha cambiado En las semanas que siguen, Nuada actúa por puro instinto y la única que lo nota es su hermana, que se ríe cuando lo ve abrigar al chico cuando ambos salen para resolver casos fáciles y le regala ojos cálidos cuando Abraham comenta sobre lo mucho que Nuada cuida a su humano cuando los casos son especialmente peligrosos. Ella suspira cuando Nuada alimenta a John y cuando permite que John lo alimente a él.Nuada no recuerda ver a su hermana tan feliz en mucho tiempo e imagina que lo único que necesitaba era sentir la felicidad de su hermano para completar las zonas cálidas de su alma que Nuada había congelado con su odio hace tantos años atrás.Y por supuesto, Nuada es feliz. Él aun odia a los humanos con pasión pero está convencido de que su humano es especial. Tal y como dijo Abraham, el corazón de John Myers es puro e incorruptible, peligroso para sí mismo, propenso a romperse con facilidad y propenso a amar de la misma forma. John amó a Liz y amó a Hellboy, a Abraham y al profesor, Así como ama a Nuada y a Nuala.“Los humanos son frágiles” Se lamenta Nuada un día “Y temo que John Myers sea aún más frágil.”“John es especial” Replica Nuala “Estoy segura de que hay fuerza en su fragilidad.”“¿Y si no la hay?” Pregunta Nuada “Y si John Myers es solo uno más en la lista de cosas hermosas y efímeras que la madre naturaleza reclama para sí misma.”“Entonces proteges a tu humano” Instruye su hermana “Como lo has hecho hasta ahora, lo cuidas y lo amas como yo amo a mi Abraham y te permites ser feliz,” Su hermana toma sus manos, ambas manos iguales, lastimadas de la misma forma, sin clemencia para ninguno de los dos. “No digo que no vaya a ocurrir, no digo que tu humano no vaya a desvanecerse en el tiempo como lo hace su raza, solo digo que el poco tiempo que tendrás con él… Tal vez ese tiempo valga la pena ¿verdad?”Nuada abraza a su gemela, respira en su cabello que huele a flores, cera y agua de mar y se pregunta si él huele a leche y café amargo, como a humanidad y debilidad.John entra en la habitación, entonces, con una copa de café y un vaso de jugo natural “Su majestad” Dice, con esa formalidad característica de él “Es la hora del almuerzo.”Nuada dejar ir a su hermana y camina hasta su compañero, toma el vaso de jugo con una mano y sostiene su espalda baja con la otra para guiarlo fuera de la habitación. El rey respira hondo y John huele como a café y leche. Como a cera y sangre.En unos meses más, tal vez años si tiene suerte, Nuada tendrá que regresar a su reino, para tomar responsabilidad por sus acciones, en unos meses más, Nuada le pedirá a John que vuelva con él, tal y como Nuala le pedirá lo mismo a Abraham.Él puede sentir su esencia uniéndose a la del humano y solo lamenta que el humano pueda ser corrompido por su sed de sangre. Porque a veces no son solo humanos y demonios quienes toman cosas hermosas y las ensucian hasta un punto de no retorno.Su odio puede ser lo que finalmente manche el corazón puro de John Myers, el punto de quiebre que termine por corromper su espíritu.Pero tal vez, solo tal vez, en ese abismo de odio y discriminación que Nuada ha cavado para sí mismo, tal vez solo tal vez, la humanidad de John Myers sea lo que termine por salvar a Nuada, a convertirlo en un mejor rey, en un ser digno de ser llamado hijo de la madre tierra, hermano de su hermana y compañero de John Myers.Nuada ruega a su tierra y tiene esperanza contra todo miedo, John Myers es especial, peculiar hasta cierto punto, amante de sus amigos y fuerte, tan fuerte .(Tan frágil). Nuada ruega y espera, sueña y ama. Su cabello huele a sangre y a cera (A leche y a café.)Nuada deja el tiempo pasar (Y deja que la humanidad de John Myers lave el odio con amor.)
10756230	Whispered Shouts and	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor, Alex Danvers, Eliza Danvers, Jeremiah Danvers, Maggie Sawyer, Cat Grant, Winn Schott Jr., Lucy Lane, Jimmy Olsen", "Fandom": "Supergirl (TV 2015)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by aleksa_grey", "chapters": "4/4", "completed": "2017-05-06", "published": "2017-04-29T00:00:00", "words": "6,378", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Online Friendship, Online Relationship, Chatting & Messaging, Blogging, Fluff, shy lena, blogger lena, Flirting, SuperCorp, Freeform, idk just go with the flow, maybe a one shot, maybe not, Sappy, Alternate Universe - College/University", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer, Lucy Lane/Jimmy Olsen", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	“I suppose I am one of life's naturally clumsy people; I don't drop stuff all the time, or break things, but I'm just generally a bit flustered.” —Karen Gillan Lena didn’t think of herself as clumsy per say or even easily flustered but when she signed onto her laptop that night and accessed her WordPress feed she never expected to see so many notifications from a user named Supergirl. The girl she assumed readily because of the user name had liked over ten of her blog posts and left one comment.She scrolled to the gravatar and clicked on the name in order to see the profile of this person who was fascinated all of a sudden with her blog. Lena had always blogged and deleted and blogged and deleted and blogged and deleted, well you get the repetitious drift right.She had never really kept to one platform or topic for very long because she was too easily bored with even her own expressions. Because of this her blogs tended to be filled with poems, short essays and various tidbits of life that she felt were important at the time. Her blog was basically a miscellaneous book for all topics existing.Lately her topic of interest was the blonde who sat two seats in front of her. Her name was Kara. Lena had learned that easily when the lecturer had called on her in class to answer a question about colonization in one of the Derek Walcott poems that they were critiquing. The name was fitting she thought, sweet and simple.It was Kara’s smile that always got Lena worked up though. It was like a burst of energy she didn’t expect, full and wide and all white teeth and parted lips. Kara’s smile was never directly pointed at Lena of course, but she did experience it vicariously through all of Kara’s friends and every time the blonde walked into a room.The most beautiful part of watching Kara in Literature classes, was seeing the way her brow would furrow, the crinkle she would get in her forehead and the way her blue eyes would dart all over the room when she was thinking. Watching Kara, and yes Lena knew how creepy that sounded, had become an integral part of her routine. So when she clicked on the name Supergirl and it finally loaded to bring up Kara’s page, Lena almost fell out of her chair.Of course the universe was messing with her. When had life ever doled out a fair hand to her? Her parents had been taken from her at the age four and she had been adopted by the Luthors. Lillian Luthor had hated her and made her disgust very evident and her dad Lionel, turns out he was in fact her real dad. Lex, Lex had been a whole other story of crazy and Lena tried her best to ignore him which was easier to do now that she was at college and away from the Luthors.Her blog Whispered Shouts and Muted Tongues didn’t even have twenty followers before today and that twentieth follower had been Kara. This was literally too much and Lena sighed loudly, glad that she had a single room and no nosy roommate would be barging in to divert her attention from the strange shit that was hitting her today.Lena scrolled through the posts that Kara had liked and breathed out easily when she realized that none of them were incriminating where her crush on said blonde was concerned. She came upon the comment and her eyes bulged out when she realized it was the poem about how Kara made her feel whenever she saw the blonde.Fuck.She quickly navigated to the poem and started reading in order to determine how easily recognizable her subject was through her words and she groaned outwardly. Yellow Sparks Fly She’s dripping sun and silent hues Happiness, hope and clarity as she sits two pews away from me, in front of me with her back towards my pining.Her warmth calls desperately and wantonly with her lidded blue orbs darting wide and tucked tenuously beneath lashes that defy nature.She’s saturated in optimism, hungry for life and living hungry for the best in others smiling at the positives all around her.I wish her smiles were trained on me like I’d be caught in a web of lips and teeth and prospects galore. Her laugh makes my body itch tremble and shake with delight shivering silence sparking something. Anything. She drips with all the things that whisper to me and I wish my whispers would carry with the wind in this room touch her earlobe tell her who I am and just for once let these yellow sparks fly simmer and burn.Lena pressed her palms into her forehead after reading. It was entirely obvious. If you read her blog and had any modicum of sense it was obvious. All you had to do was be in any of her classes, know that pew meant seat and understand the sun metaphor as referring to blonde hair and yeah, it was easy to figure out. She scrolled to the comment Kara had left that was awaiting moderation and her mouth fell open in shock.Supergirl— Must be some girl if she has you writing love poems to share with the world.Lena approved the comment, liked it and wrote out a reply of her own.LenatheLuthor— Not the world really, just my twenty followers. Thanks for the follow btw JLena clicked send wondering where she got the confidence to type even the first word of that reply. Her computer dinged and she clicked once more on a reply from Kara. She must have been at her computer when Lena had sent her reply.Supergirl— No problem really. Sooooo “Whispered Shouts and Muted Tongues” what are you trying to hide Lena Luthor?LenatheLuthor— Why do you think I’m hiding something? As you rightly said, I’m sharing things with the world so how can that be hiding? Supergirl— Alright touché. So if you were to share that poem with say your Literature class would you?Lena thought about the question and worried her lip with her teeth. She stared at the words on the screen and couldn’t phrase a response. She might have placed her poem online, but she didn’t know if she would ever read it aloud for other to hear. There was just something about the act of spoken word that was too vulnerable and unsteady.LenatheLuthor— You got me there…Lena left her reply at that. She didn’t know what else to say. She was about to sign off her computer when another response came in.Supergirl— You sit two seats behind me.Supergirl— I’ll see you on Monday ;)Lena couldn’t believe what she was reading. Kara knew. It wasn’t rocket science to figure out, but Kara knew that the poem was about her and Lena didn’t know if she would be able to face the blonde come Monday morning. Lena didn’t think of herself as a clumsy person. She didn’t expect to trip over her feet or spill her drink. Come Monday morning though, she didn’t know what would happen and maybe she’d be too flustered to speak to Kara anywhere else but the internet where she could whisper loudly and say everything silently. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “She is admired from afar. These admirers court her in secret, in the safety of their dreams.” ― Whitney Otto, How to Make an American Quilt It had been two months since Kara had started at National City University. She was glad that she could have stayed in her home town for college. The thought of leaving Eliza and Jeremiah was overwhelming and attending school with Alex was too much to give up. So Kara had jumped at the half scholarship she’d gotten to study Journalism.It was a no-brainer on her part. Alex was there studying International Relations and Governmental Policy and already in her junior year and Kara, freshman or not was eager to make the Danvers name proud. In the two months that she had been there, she’d been head hunted by the Debate and Writing club because hey, Alex was good at those things so they figured she would be too.Extra-curricular groups focusing in martial arts had also been interested, but Kara had turned them down. She didn’t want to, well need to be able to as the guy had said ‘kill a man.’ The Writing club though, she had jumped on and after a month, she had been allowed to submit an article for the university’s online zine every two weeks when it was sent out via mass email.Winn, a friend on the magazine team, had told her about Lena’s blog. The name had immediately intrigued her, I mean who wouldn’t be interested in Whispered Shouts and Muted Tongues. So she had done her research and found the blog after a few attempts. The content was plenty, but the readership was small and so after reading through a couple articles and realizing that the girl did have some talent she clicked follow readily.As she scrolled through the previous posts she came upon a poem titled Yellow Sparks Fly and the subject matter was mind blowing. She thought it was about her, not that she was being conceited or self-interested, but she knew Lena. The girl was always staring at her and how would she know, well because Kara had done her fair share at staring as well. God it was hard not to.The first Literature class she had seen the brunette sitting silently and immediately been intrigued. Her eyes had roamed over pale skin, dark hair, lips accented by red lipstick and a pair of intense eyes that had reminded Kara of an undiluted paint center the color nature.What grabbed Kara the most that first class was how though the girl never spoke voluntarily, if she was called on she always had the right answer or offered up some challenging new perspective to the discussion. Her voice too, Kara had found her voice tantalizing and tempting like the need to draw for a blanket on a cold night while half asleep.When the lecturer had finally called out their names at the end of the session and Kara had found out her name she thought it was fitting beyond compare that the beautiful and silent girl at the back of the class had such a lovely name. She was being a sap sure and the minute the next class had come around, Kara had found herself sitting just two seats away in an attempt to slake her desire to get to know the girl.The poem had shocked her for she never realized that Lena had even recognized her, but it was flattering easily. She had smiled as she left her comment and the brunette’s inability to reply to her last comment about how Kara sat two seats away from her proved that yeah, Kara was right, the poem was about her. // Kara walked into her Literature class nervous. She was going to see Lena today and she felt giddy, nervous as hell, but giddy. She looked up from her feet before sitting down and saw Lena just as the brunette quickly looked away. Kara felt her heart drop a little and she sunk into her seat willing herself to just believe that the brunette was maybe just as nervous as she was.Alex had told her to just take it easy when she had told her about Lena. It was hard not to spill the entire beans about her crush to her sister, even going as far as to make Alex read the poems. Her sister had laughed liked crazy, slapped her on the back, behaved like a complete teenage boy and then told her softly that she was proud of her.Kara had watched Alex freak out about coming out to their parents before and she was glad that things had remained the same among the family. She figured that was what Alex was proud of her for, her being able to admit she liked a girl and all. Alex had ended their conversation by saying simple that girls were nice.The Lecturer droned on and on and on and on and Kara paid her no mind as she took out her phone. She scrolled to her Wordpress app and easily clicked on Lena’s blog. The girl had uploaded a new blog post and Kara eagerly clicked on the link ready to see another glimpse into Lena’s mind. Seas of Possibilities I think she thinks I’m the confident kind like I’ll show my hand and reveal my mind to her it’s probably easy she is legacy after all and I am online chatter, white noise and fodder.I deserve her yes, but maybe the price isn’t worth the holy reveal to mix blue and green I pronounce it can when it’s really cyan but maybe I can.Can say yes to this, talk to you without screens and keys can use those keys to bring this open in reality.I think she thinks I’m the confident kind like I could but I can’t I think she thinks I can, when it’s really cyan.Kara’s breath hitched as she read and re-read the poem. If she thought she couldn’t be anymore attracted to Lena she was wrong. She spun in her seat and fixed her eyes on the brunette. Lena was looking down at her notebook, scribbling away at whatever the lecturer was going on about and Kara couldn’t take her eyes away. When Lena finally looked up Kara found herself finally able to breathe again. // Lena had seen Kara come into the class and she had found herself staring. It was hard not to be entranced by the blonde and her preppy nature and intoxicating aura. It wasn’t a temptation really, more like a defiant need to want the blonde. A ravenously coherent desire that had latched onto her psyche and wouldn’t let go.She looked down as Kara’s eyes found her and she knew it was obvious, her awkwardness that is, but she couldn’t help it. When the lecturer had started speaking, Lena had started scribbling away and tried to force her mind to ignore the blonde just a couple of seats away from her. Her phone vibrated and the notification of Supergirl liking her latest post made her jump looking up and directly into blue eyes.They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity and Lena couldn’t make herself look away. She vaguely heard the lecturer speaking and her notes were completely forgotten as her attention was otherwise engaged.“Pay attention or leave Kiera!” the lecturer chided and Kara jumped out of her trance.Professor Grant was looking at her with scolding eyes and Kara bristled under her gaze. She loved the woman’s knowledge and expertise and wanted to learn from her, but shit Cat Grant was a hard ass. Also, she never remembered Kara’s name, like ever and it had been two months.Just then the bell rung though and Kara silently fist pumped, very much aware of Professor Grant glaring at her before turning to her desk as the students left. Kara turned in her seat again towards Lena, but the girl was gone and Kara grumbled before grabbing her bag and making her way out the door. // “Oh shit!” Lena growled as she collided with a body and fell to the ground. Today wasn’t her day. I mean come on, no one liked Mondays, but this was ridiculous. Physical trauma was a bit excessive she thought.“You should probably look where you’re going next time pretty girl,” the older girl smirked at her sitting up.Lena rubbed her head and looked at the auburn haired girl in front of her. They were still sitting on the ground, but they were now upright with their legs untangled. Lena didn’t say a word, sure her cheeks were flushed and while she wasn’t hiding her sexuality, she’d never been hit on so casually or openly.“Well now come on, got a name? We can shake on it and call it even, you trying to maim me and all,” the girl said again and Lena was sure she was full on gaping now. The girl was attractive of course, not her type, but definitely attractive.“Babe,” another girl said coming up to them and Lena watched her reach out and pull the first girl to her feet. This one was brunette, shorter than the first and kind of badass looking. She oozed confidence and Lena saw the chemistry like physical strings between them.“Who’s this sexy thing Alex?” the newcomer asked and the other girl, Alex, Lena now realized her name was shrugged.“Dunno, she won’t tell me her name,” Alex said and reached out a hand towards Lena.She took it willingly and got to her feet easily. She stood awkwardly in front of the couple and watched them curiously.“Lena,” she finally said and they looked at her with raised brows, so she added, “that’s my name.”“Wait like—” Alex started speaking, but stopped as if wondering if she should say what she was going to Lena noticed and it was her time to raise her eye brow at the girl.“This is Maggie, my girlfriend, and I’m Alex. Alex Danvers,” Alex said again and finished with a smirk.Of course Lena thought. This was Kara’s sister and obviously Kara had told her about Lena’s crush and now Alex was smirking at her like someone who knew a deep dark secret just waiting to do a reveal and Lena just shook her head.“Luthor?” it was Maggie that asked the question and Lena just nodded her head in the girl’s direction.“Interesting,” Maggie continued and Lena wondered what that was about. Did Maggie know too? Was it written on her forehead? Was she that obvious?“Well, we’re going to go…” Alex said trailing off with a grin as wide as the Cheshire cat.Yeah, Mondays were weird as hell Lena thought as she watched the two girls walk away. She headed out of the building and into the outdoors of what was National City University. The atmosphere was heavy with college kids, sweat, the smell of grass and a buzz in the air.Shoving her headphones in, she made her way to the library to await her next class. She needed to write something down. She needed to express herself about the morning so far. She needed to vent in words she was sure would be about a certain blonde. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “And maybe that was love. Being so vulnerable and allowing someone else in so far they could hurt you, but they also give you everything.” ― Christine Feehan, Water Bound Kara made her way to the school’s magazine center. It was a small thing below the Mass Communication department that had once been a classroom, but after the new buildings built at the university last year it had been converted, or at least so Kara was told. The room was just big enough for around five people. There was one large sliding glass window and only one door.Kara entered and saw Winn tinkering with something inside one of the three available computers. Lucy and James were also there and Kara figured it would be a full house today. She couldn’t wait for the awkwardness to ensue.Lucy was in charge of current affairs and student body activities, James was the resident photographer and graphics creator, Winn did the tech stuff, setup and layout and Kara was in charge of the lifestyle and how-to section. With the four of them NatCity Zine covered all the topics necessary for university students to keep them up to date on campus life and the works.James, according to Winn, liked her, but that had gone bottoms up fast. When Kara had just joined the team she hadn’t known that Lucy and James were an item and as such, she’d shamelessly flirted with Lucy, and it was mutual.It wasn’t until James had barged in one day and kissed Lucy in greeting right in front of Kara that she realized they were together. From that, she and James never really got along and she tried her best to avoid Lucy for the sake of keeping the peace. She made her way over to Winn and he looked up and grinned at her.“Did ya break it?” Kara asked sliding into the free chair and gesturing to the open computer Winn had his hands inside.“I’ll have you know I’m the only one who can fix it,” Winn scoffed.“Doesn’t mean you didn’t break it initially,” Kara laughed.“Whatever! It’s the two lovebirds fault really,” Winn grumbled throwing a dirty look at Lucy and James.“What?” Kara asked.A puzzled look settled on her face as her eyes followed Winn’s gaze ignoring the fact that Lucy had just giggled at something James had said. He was looking at Kara now with a smug grin and she tried not to glare. Kara turned her head back to Winn and waited for him to continue."Let’s just say they don’t know that a table isn’t for foreplay,” Winn replied before focusing once again on the open computer.Kara’s mind exploded with dirty thoughts and she remembered the multiple times the tension had been too much between her and Lucy. Those times, Lucy would easily have her in a similar position as the one Winn described. Nothing ever came of it though for they were always interrupted and eventually it was revealed that Lucy and James were together and then it had ended. Kara remembered how Lucy had tried to talk to her in the days directly after to apologize, but it hadn’t mattered and Kara had just brushed her off.Her next article was due Wednesday she realized and sighed. She had been working on it for over a week now and she was still drawing a blank. Her first two articles had been easy. They had been about changes and college life and as a Freshman that was easy for her to write on.The theme for this new issue seemed off and Kara figured Snapper, the lecturer in charge, hadn’t chosen it— 2nd Chances and 1st Impressions — it wasn’t that it was weird honestly, it just didn’t sound like Snapper.She settled into her seat, loaded the Word programme on the PC and tried to start writing. She had a deadline after all. // Lena tried to pay attention in class she really did, but it was hard when Kara kept invading her thoughts. She had so many questions, but knew she probably wouldn’t get any answers with her making no attempt to talk to the blonde and all. It was pathetic really. She was Lena fucking Luthor after all and even if she hated the last name it at least should have given her some semblance of confidence… it didn’t.She opened the blog application to write a quick post while she waited on the class to end.Never Have I Ever I have so many questions, for never have I ever experienced this all-consuming wanton existence out of body heat, awkward glances and blatant stares.I wanna ask how you found me, came to like me via a click, speak to me via comments: did you know that my pen idolizes you? Like you are my favorite subject as of late and I wanna say something but I fear being too late for never have I ever felt so drawn like a wave to the shore I wanna lap at your edges before tidal waving into your heart for never have I ever wanted to share or wanted more.Lena pressed publish and attached a picture of a question mark to the post. It didn’t confidently express what she felt, for in truth she was unsure of her own emotions. The post had not been up for even five minutes before she got a notification stating that Supergirl liked her post. Lena immediately blushed and ducked her head even though Kara wasn’t in her class.Her phone vibrated again and she looked down to see a comment awaiting moderation.Supergirl— I’m sure your questions will be answered.Lena didn’t even pause before clicking approve and typing out a reply.LenatheLuthor— These require more than yes or no responses, it isn’t that easy.The response was instantaneous and Lena figured Kara wasn’t in class.Supergirl— I’m sure whoever it is can say more than a word or two else you wouldn’t like them enough to write about them.Lena chuckled at that reply and she received a glare from the lecturer. She immediately became somber once again.LenatheLuthor— Suppose I don’t know what to say and I’m afraid to mess it up?Supergirl— Then mess it up. It’s better than not knowing at all. Least I think so.LenatheLuthor— Why is it on me though?Supergirl— You’re right…LenatheLuthor— Am I?Supergirl— 555-2419. Call me/Text me. Ball’s in your court beautiful.Lena didn’t approve that comment. She copied the number to her phone and saved the contact. She deleted the comment though, to prevent it from becoming accidentally approved. Kara had called her beautiful. Kara had acknowledged that she found Lena attractive. Kara had made her blush with one simple word. Yes she had also gotten the blonde’s number, but Kara thought she was beautiful and she couldn’t stop grinning.She was sure her classmates and lecturer thought she was some kind of idiot now, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She unlocked her phone once more and typed out a message just as the lecturer finally released the class. Her day was done and ecstatic didn’t begin to cover it. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- There is no terror in the bang, only in the anticipation of it. —Alfred Hitchcock Kara waited for her phone to beep. It wasn't that she was excited, no that word seemed flimsy to adequately describe her anticipation. She had been halfway through her article, quarter way if she was honest, when a notification had come in on her phone.She had read Lena’s new poem and immediately imagined the drinking game of the same name and felt a surge of imagined liquid confidence. For that reason she had dropped her phone number in and a compliment. Now she was waiting for Lena to bite.She backspaced an entire sentence and sat staring at the screen. Kara watched the cursor blink and her eyes mimicked the motion exactly. Everyone had gone and she was glad for the quiet that the small room offered. It was rare whenever she was alone. Alex or Maggie were always around or her parents and since she had started school Winn had become an almost constant factor. She was glad for them, but sometimes they were excessively too much.Her senior high school boyfriend Mike had moved back home to attend Royal Navy College back in Dartmouth, and nope not the New Hampshire version, in the actual U.K. Kara had been sad initially, but had decided early on after finding out that she wouldn't let it drag down her own university experience. They talked on occasion because they were friends, but the time difference was an issue and most times they missed each other’s communication attempts.Kara looked up when she heard the door opening and quickly snapped her eyes downwards when she saw Lucy coming back into the room. Kara focused back on the computer screen, even as she heard movement to her left and she prayed Lucy would just go. She was in no such luck as the brunette came directly up to her. She sighed loudly and raised her head defiantly.“We ever going to talk again Kara?” Lucy asked, and Kara had to prevent herself from barking out an inhuman laugh.“You can't be serious,” Kara scoffed in return never taking her eyes away from Lucy’s.“Well yeah I mean we were friends—” Kara cut off Lucy quickly before she could finish.“No Lucy! We were never friends, we had just met each other, I flirted and you were a liar. Keep your apologies and your friendship,” Kara almost barked and stormed out of the room.It wasn't that she had been in love with Lucy, far from it. She was just annoyed that the girl didn't see anything wrong with her actions and kept trying to start something again. They hadn't been friends. They hadn't been anything Kara realized and made her way to the parking lot. Lesson learned she thought.She saw Alex leaning against the car with Maggie and was glad she would have a ride home. Walking up to them she saw Maggie whisper something into Alex’s ear and her sister laughed. Kara was happy for them really and hoped she would have that eventually. They had found each other and Alex had changed for the better. She wasn’t as grumpy and her confidence level had spiked exponentially.“Hey guys,” Kara greeted.She stopped directly in front of the 2014 grey Chevy Impala. It was Alex’s baby and she loved it even more than anyone Kara figured. Kara remembered when Alex had just gotten the car and she wouldn’t even take anyone else as a passenger inside. It had been an exhaustingly hilarious time.Maggie looked up at her and grinned. Kara smiled right back at her and then she saw Alex’s neck and blushed because hey, no one needs to know that their sister is getting some. Alex grinned at her then and Kara just ducked her head, a heavy blush threatening to overpower her.“Maggie you literally ravaged my sister’s neck,” Kara began speaking and they both laughed at her.“Yeah well after she tried to flirt with your girl and failed, I had to make her feel better,” Maggie said with a smirk, and Alex blushed.Kara heard nothing beyond your girl and immediately knew they were talking about Lena. Her mind wandered easily after that. She wondered if Lena would text her or what Lena was up to now. It was overwhelming really, but not in bad way. It was more like a niggling at the back of her neck that she couldn’t ignore.Alex and Maggie told her the events of meeting or well running into, quite literally, Lena and she couldn’t help but laugh along with them. It was funny indeed. At least now Kara knew that Lena liked her because Alex and Maggie were hot as hell, if she was being objective, and Lena hadn’t batted an eye according to their story. She felt a surge of pride in that moment and it was weird and unexplainable. // Lena arrived home almost after sunset. She had stopped by the beach on her way to watch the sunset and had captured a few pictures. The colors were beautiful, a serene whisper if she had to label it. They busted at the seams softly with just enough fervor to expose the ripples behind the clouds. Yeah it was beautiful, she had stopped and definitely needed just to capture it.She sat at her laptop now and scrolled through the images. There were about fifteen in all and she almost wished they were physical captures in order to flip through them fully. She decided on one and quickly uploaded without a filter to her social media pages with the caption— Are you seeing this too?She reached for her phone to check if Kara had messaged her back and nothing. She updated her #52essays2017 determined to get back on track with the weeks in the year and after checking her phone once more with nothing from Kara she falls asleep just a little annoyed. // Kara cursed Lucy for interrupting her and making her leave her things in the magazine room. The clock told her it was just a few minutes after midnight and she considered messaging Lena via her blog’s contact page. She doesn’t know however if Lena even used her number, so she didn't want to seem too desperate or forward. She settled for reading Lena’s new blog post and sighed at the emotion radiating off her computer screen. It was not about her and for that she was grateful. The words were too heavy. They were inspiring, but they were also kind of real not just poetic.Kara mulled over the computer screen for a little longer and sighed heavily before closing Lena’s blog and turning her computer off. She got up from her desk and flopped down on her bed hand coming up to cover her eyes instinctively. Kara drifted off to sleep with the image of pale skin and green eyes above her. // Lena woke with a start. Her heart was pounding heavily in her chest and it caused her ribcage to actually hurt. Her breaths were ragged and she tried desperately to slow her breathing down taking deeper breaths than she thought possible and closing her eyes after each one.Lena reached for her phone and closed her eyes once again when she saw no notification from Kara. It had been stupid she figured some kind of joke obviously. Kara had realized Lena liked her, had drawn Lena in further with her charm and flirty comments and then she had given Lena her number and then nothing.Lena got ready for school in silence. She avoided Lillian like the plague and made her way through the house and outside as quickly as possible. She pulled up to the school in no time at all and sat staring at the building from the comfort and safety of her car. In here she was just Lena, and this version of Lena didn’t have to worry about if her crush liked her back or not. She was brought out of her thoughts when she heard a knock on her window. // Kara had raced to school early and had gone to the magazine’s room first thing in order to retrieve her phone, and sure enough there was a text message from Lena. She braced and her fingers froze over the keypad. She considered not opening the message for a few seconds but her nervousness took over and she found herself saving Lena’s number before she started reading.Lena: Beautiful huh? If I repeat the sentiment would it seem corny and overused? Just wow though Kara. Hi btw.Kara grinned as she read and re-read the message. Lena was a sweetheart for sure. This text in comparison to her blog and poems was definitely not her best work, but Kara was already wooed and falling—She stopped herself from finishing that thought, because she couldn’t be falling for someone she had only spoken to online right? Yes she actually knew Lena in person, but they had never had an actually conversation face to face yet. It was definitely too soon.Kara huffed violently more so at herself than anything else and left the building. As she closed the door behind her she saw Lena’s car drive in and she made the split second decision to go talk to the brunette. Kara drew in a deep breath and knocked on Lena’s car window. The window went down slowly and Kara braced herself.They eyed each other with curiosity first. Lena raised a brow and Kara lost her breath. The brunette was even more beautiful this close up and Kara wanted to just touch the soft tresses of Lena’s hair. Kara watched her and it wasn’t lustful or sexual, she just wanted to be close to her; intimate.“Kara,” Lena spoke up.Kara found herself at a loss for words because dammit the voice matched the gorgeousness before her and she physically shuddered for no other reason than being affected by Lena.“I texted you,” Lena spoke again and at these words Kara found her voice.“I accidentally left my phone at school yesterday and I was gonna message you on your blog but it was too late and— screw this!” Kara stopped herself from speaking and breathed out sharply.“Kara are you okay?” Lena asked opening the car door and stepping out.Lena was directly in front of the blonde now. They were basically the same height and Lena could smell lavender wafting off of Kara along with the scent of potstickers and heavens it was intoxicating.“I’m fine, but!” Kara stopped again.“Urggh,” Kara grunted out and Lena tried not to laugh at Kara’s ineptness.“Fuck it— go out with me Lena,” Kara fiddled with her fingers but she continued, “I like you. I like your poetry and your blog overall. I like your hair, god it’s so shiny. I like how smart you are though you never try to rub it in anyone’s face. So yeah Lena, I’m a mess right now, but please go—”Kara was cut off before she could finish her excessive rambling by Lena’s body slamming into hers. Her hands came up instinctively to grip onto Lena and ground herself. Her heart sped up from the contact, but she found the thumping relieving rather than making her nervous.“Yes,” Lena whispered against Kara’s neck and Kara pulled back to look at green eyes.“Yes?” Kara asked softly not trusting her ears.“Yes Kara,”Lena tried to bury herself in Kara’s neck again, but couldn’t as the blonde was pulling away. She watched Kara curiously as she grinned at her before turning to the now not so empty parking and screamed.“She said yes!”Lena blushed and grabbed Kara’s hand pulling her away from the inquisitive stares of their peers and motioned to the car. They got in and when Lena saw Kara click her seatbelt she quickly leaned over and softly kissed Kara’s lips. It was quick and tentative and over before it started and Lena swiftly locked her own seatbelt before starting the car.Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.
10759488	Makoto and Ann eat each	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Niijima Makoto, Takamaki Ann", "Fandom": "Persona 5", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by Mabodofu", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-29T00:00:00", "words": "2,620", "Additional Tags": "First Kiss, Ann being a huge gay, Horsing Around, rating's for the latter half of the fic, tho it's still baby level activity don't expect much", "Relationship": "Niijima Makoto/Takamaki Ann", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Makoto was a beautiful girl. Her stern dark brows to the light pink of her soft lips. Brilliant red eyes, contrasting against the paler glow of her skin. As she lowered her gaze towards the crepe in her hand, her tongue darted out to lick at a dribbling drop of chocolate ice cream that was trying to escape its crepe-y prison. Ann was mesmerized. Makoto looked up at her and blinked twice. “Um...did you want to try mine?”“Huh? Oh, haha,” Ann broke into an awkward laugh. It wasn't like her to space out like this! “No I was just day dreaming. Thinking about how good crepes are.”Makoto returned a light chuckle before holding the delectable item closer to her companion's face. “Here, try some!”Ann gave her a short ‘are you sure’ glance before hesitantly leaning forward and taking in a mouthful of milky thick chocolatey goodness. The flavor filled her mouth, overpowering the remnants of her own strawberry ice cream.“Mmm, delicious..,” Ann gave an exaggerated response before flashing a smile. “I usually get the fruity flavors, but chocolate is always soo rich!”“Mhm,” Makoto nodded. “Can I have some of yours?”“Oh yeah, sure!” She held her own strawberry crepe towards the other girl, who proceeded to follow Ann’s example. “Mmmm,” an exaggerated noise of approval, as if copying what Ann had done. Her eyes were closed as she licked her lips for remaining traces of dessert, as if concentrating on savoring every drop. “Strawberry is definitely a lot lighter than chocolate....maybe I should have gotten it instead.”“If you really like it, we could just trade,” Ann laughed. Makoto waved her hand briefly, slightly surprised at the idea. “Oh, no no! I couldn’t… I’m just thinking out loud to myself.” The tinge of pink that rose in Makoto’s face brightened her complexion, in comparison making the deep red of her eyes shine with color as well. Just thinking about how the girl standing before her just ran her dainty tongue across the ice cream in Ann’s hand made her suddenly feel very nervous about continuing eating it.“We can share then, if you ever want some more chocolate just have some more, and I’ll have a bite of yours as payment!”“Oh...that’s an idea.” Makoto smiled. She seemed to like the thought of sharing. “If it’s alright with you…” What was especially endearing was how the stern older girl was always so commanding and brimming with confidence on the battle ground, yet when accompanying a friend in any social situation she’d turn meek with uncertainty. It was clear that Makoto wasn’t very well versed in the art of fooling around with friends after school. Yet the concept came as a blessing in disguise, as Ann received the pride of knowing she was one of Makoto’s firsts. First friend to share a crepe with. First friend to have a second hand kiss with.Or at least, she just liked to believe she was the first. There was no way to know for sure unless she asked. Which she never would.The two girls were likely a sight to behold. Standing side by side in the summer shade on the curb of the bustling main street of Shibuya, both quite striking in looks, elegant in stature, and imposing in grace. Ann liked to imagine she held such a noble image, though in her opinion Makoto probably suited the description a lot better. Being with her however made the amateur model more focused on standing straight than she usually was.It was so relaxing to just have a day out in town like this, especially after all the heavy work they had been doing crawling through dungeons during their supposed summer vacation. Although bonding with a new friend was still more of an ordeal than a real relaxation period. Especially with someone as outstanding as Makoto.Ann was still embarrassed at doubting and disliking the girl before. It wasn’t really her fault, and the situation was complicated. She knew all this, but still felt upset that she was so blind to the struggle her now-ally had been going through. A tap on her shoulder. “Ann? What are you thinking so deeply about? You’re spacing out.”Her eyes blinked three times in quick succession. “O-oh, oh sorry. I guess my mind just started wandering.”“It’s fine, I mean a lot’s been going on and all...Medjed and Futaba...all that. There’s a lot on my mind too.” The attempt to make Ann feel more comfortable about her blanking out was just such a natural, small thing, yet it made her smile.“Actually, I was thinking about how we first met.”“...Oh,” Makoto was again a little startled at the response. Every time her eyes widened, it gave Ann a clearer glimpse of the fullness of those red irises. “We didn’t really have a good start. Personally I don’t like to dwell on it too much.” Her expression fell as her gaze drifted downwards, her long lashes now fully visible against her skin.“D-don’t worry! I wasn’t thinking about the bad stuff or anything!” Ann waved her free hand about while her other still clutched tightly to the remains of her crepe. “Just--I dunno, I just still think about how silly it all was. Doubting each other and everything...when look at us now! On a crepe date like this.”There was a delayed response as the dark haired beauty absorbed her embarrassing comment. But eventually upon fully processing it, she looked up into Ann’s eyes and returned faint smile, with yet another rosy blush rising to her cheeks. “That’s true. It is pretty funny when you put it that way.” Another chuckle. “I shouldn’t think so hard about the bad....I really look up to how positive you seem to be, Ann. It’s...It’s really motivating.”“Positive? Me? O-oh, thanks.” When was she ever positive? She couldn’t think of a single example at this moment, almost forgetting what her personality even was up to this point. “I think it’s more you who really leads us with your perseverance. Sometimes I just can’t help but doubt what I’m doing. But having you by my side gives me strength! Or something like that.” She was blushing now too. Compliments were embarrassing.“I’m just doing my best for the team..,” Makoto’s face was reaching a similar level of warm as her eyes, “Thanks. I, um, appreciate hearing this from you, Ann.”Ann placed her free hand on her hip and flashed her signature smile. “No problem! I’m always here to remind you how cool you are! Our team’s beautiful Queen!”“Even if my name is Queen, I feel you would fit that roll better. You’re so open and confident, things I’d think would be good attributes for a queen.”“Still, you’re so much more clever than me, Makoto! If I’m the queen then you’d have to be the king!”They both laughed, but there was now an undoubtedly tense feeling in the air. Were Ann’s palms feeling so sweaty from the the summer heat, or just pure unadulterated nerves? Her immediate reaction to not knowing what to do was to laugh. Play it cool. “Ah,” Makoto let out a brief sound, which Ann might not have noticed if it wasn’t for the fact that immediately after the other girl moved in to place a hand over her own. Ann’s crepe holding hand in particular, and Makoto drew in to lick at a drop of ice cream that had been dribbling down the side. It had fallen deep enough that the pink of her flesh grazed slightly against the end of Ann’s fingertip. Ann’s entire body tensed, as if being struck by a freeze ailment. Makoto finally pulled herself away and their eyes made contact once again. “Sorry, it was dripping so I just couldn’t help it…”Ann was at a loss for words. She’d never had so much trouble communicating with someone before. She also suddenly felt like the entire world was staring at her, even though the passersby likely didn’t even take account of their existence here in the shade by the side of a street. No one turned their way, yet Ann felt like heavy stares were burrowing into her.It was all in her head, and it was driving her crazy.“Don’t worry about it! Talking like this, I almost forgot I still had my crepe!” “Me too. It really is nice being able to spend time with another girl like this…”Another pulse. As if Ann’s heart just convulsed and the blood was getting caught in her fingers. Makoto was so dignified like a goddess, yet so pure like a newborn gazelle. A miraculous combination which for whatever reason made Ann’s blood flow run six times faster than it was supposed to. She was overwhelmed with impulses that she’d never had to restrain before. Absolutely overcome, although her limbs were still frozen in place by Makoto’s fearsome magic.She leaned over and placed her lips against the other girl’s. The moment was brief, yet long enough for Ann to taste the full scope of the milky rich chocolate of Makoto’s crepe.“There was some dripping on your face, so I got it for you,” she straight up lied in a low whisper, right into Makoto’s ear. Makoto was wide-eyed in response. Or in lack of response. There was nothing for a good minute until all the blood in her body apparently rushed straight to her head.“H-h-huh! Really! I--um,” she tripped over her words trying to scrape together a real retort, but there was nothing. It was clearly Makoto’s first kiss.Friends don’t normally do this. Was Makoto level-headed enough to realize at this moment? Probably not. It was apparent there was way too much going through her head, so Ann took the opportunity to break the awkward silence by snatching the chocolate crepe right out of her hand.“If you aren’t going to keep eating it, I’ll help you out.” She could only pray that her voice didn’t stutter at all while speaking, since she was likely as much out of her mind as Makoto was at the moment. There really wasn’t much left to eat at this point, but she took another bite--another second hand kiss--into Makoto’s dessert snack, and each drop of chocolate reminded her of the the taste of her queen’s soft plush lips.What was she even doing. No one knew, especially not herself. “Hey--” Makoto started, “That’s...I’m still eating it…”…Ann handed her own strawberry crepe back to Makoto. “We can trade. I’m suddenly really in the mood for chocolate.” An obvious comment ripe with flirtatious intent. But could Makoto see it?Her face was still burning red. So maybe she did. Either way, she accepted the crepe and started nibbling at the soft bready wrap. “It...it tastes like you, Ann.”Another loud thump in Ann’s throat. How was she supposed to deal. She wasn’t dealing. She was winging this. At this point she was out of (un)clever lines, so the only thing she really could do was fail to hide her deep blush. “Thanks.” She replied, curtly. Why did she say thanks. Ann felt like an idiot.“Mmhm..,” Makoto hummed, agreeing with who knows what. “Well, these crepes are really good. We should, um, do this again sometime.”“Yeah, we should! Definitely!”“Yes, definitely.”They nodded at each other. There was some kind of shared sentiment here, but neither girl could quite pinpoint what it was. Likely something along the lines of an equal interest in tasting each other’s flavor a second time, perhaps on a later date.----- OMAKE [X months later] ----Ann felt like her hair was probably tangling up, having somehow come undone during her scuffle with the girl on top of her. Her body was pinned down to the couch of the student council room, and Makoto’s hand slid under her top to cup against her bra-imprisoned breast. “You’re really so...full, Ann,” she mumbled clearly a bit out of breath.“More to fondle, I guess,” came her reply. She responded a second time by reaching up and grabbing a handful of Makoto’s ass. “You got a lot packing here though...I’m always so mesmerized by this area when you’re in your body suit…”Makoto’s face flashed a bright red. “S-stop!”“You know it’s true.”As if to get the blonde to stop commenting on the finesse of her spandex-clad thief coord, Makoto leaned down into the crook of Ann’s neck, taking in a mouthful of the flesh to suck on. Ann elicited a gasp and a moan in response, though it was quickly cut off by a hand rushing up to clog her orifice.“Shh, I really don’t want anyone to come in here!”Ann pulled the hand off her mouth and gasped for air. “Didn’t you lock the door?? Don’t be so rough with me, I’m not a shadow!”“If you think that’s rough, I’ll have to show you just how rough I can be.” It wasn’t the time for Makoto’s competitive spirit to come out, but it happened anyways. She straddled Ann’s waist tightly with her thick thighs and yanked the girl’s bra upward from under her shirt (which she was still wearing, although the sweater and blazer had long since fallen to the floor). Makoto’s dexterious fingers, which were used to tearing shadows into oblivion, instead kneaded heavily into Ann’s breasts, moving in tune with her own hips as she rocked against Ann’s lower body. “W-what’re you even doing!! Trying to milk me like a cow?”“No! Why would you even put that image in my mind?” “Because you’re making me feel like a cow...do you want me to moo too?”Makoto shut her up with her mouth, and as their lips made contact their tongues quickly began trying to tango as well. Saliva pooled and dribbled out of Ann’s mouth as the two girls failed to do any coordinated making out, and Makoto yelped as Ann suddenly ran her hands up her bare waist.She responded the only way she knew how--to pinch at Ann’s nipples. She wanted to look at them too, but taking off Ann’s top would require her to let go of her breasts, which wasn’t something she wanted to sacrifice even for a minute.Both girls were run ragged, even though they’d barely done anything that meaningful. They were fooling around with no plan or knowledge of what good foreplay should be like. “You kinda suck at topping...stop milking me, Makoto.”“S-stop with the milk comments!! I just like to touch them, okay…”“It’s okay! I’m just playing around! Sorta-ish. Mostly.”Makoto giggled, and her laugh made Ann start giggling too.“Well, if you don’t think I’m good at it, we can always practice again some other time. We can’t stay in this room forever…”“Huh? You wanna stop?? I’d rather you milk me more…”“...”Makoto climbed off of Ann, re-adjusting her clothes. “If you say milk one more time I’m breaking up with you.”“What!! I’m joking, please forgive me.” “I’ll think about it if...you treat me to a crepe.”Makoto didn’t turn around to face Ann, but that was likely because she was embarrassed as she usually got during these moments.“I’ll buy you ten crepes.”“I only need one…”“Then I’ll eat the rest!”“Ann...please think more carefully about how much sugar you take.”“...Please don’t mom me at a time like this...I haven’t even fixed my bra yet.”“...”More silence, though this time it was warmer than just awkward.
10748055	Ive Never Been in Love	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": null, "Characters": "Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane, Isabelle Lightwood, Jace Wayland, Clary Fray, Maia Roberts, Simon Lewis, Raphael Santiago, Meliorn (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Lydia Branwell, Victor Aldertree", "Fandom": "Shadowhunters (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by moongoddessgirl (MercyBuckets)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-27T00:00:00", "words": "2,481", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Theatre, Stage Manager Alec, Actor Magnus Bane, tech crew, Aldertree is a Bad Director, Raj Broke his Ankle Under Mysterious Circumstances, Maryse Lightwood Being An Asshole, Alec Lightwood Needs A Hug, Or a Nap, Companionable Snark, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Background Simon Lewis/Raphael Santiago, Background Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, First Meetings, Drama, No one messes with Maia, Simon doesn't know when to shut up", "Relationship": "Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Mercy's Shadowhunters AU Mondays", "Collections": "Shadowhunters AU Mondays", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "Gen, M/M", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Alec Lightwood swore under his breath as he hit his head on the new door frame for the third time in the past half hour. ‘Lights, is this really necessary!’ he snapped in the general direction of the booth. ‘Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning Lightwood,’ Raphael said. ‘Take it up with Maia. She’s tweaking projection shit.’ ‘I wouldn’t if you value your life,’ Simon chimed in. Alec took a deep breath and reminded himself that it was important to stay calm, even if Raf was asking to get slapped, especially if Raf was asking to get slapped. ‘If either of you is the person who took my flashlight, there will be blood.’ ‘While Raf is basically a vampire so ...’ Simon heard Alec’s stomping get closer because he stopped. ‘Shutting up now.’ ‘Dios,’ said Raphael. Alec couldn’t see them but he knew the other boy was rolling his eyes. ‘I never thought you were brilliant but poking Lightwood on a bad day? At least Maia will kill you quick.’ Alec whipped the door of the booth open to glare at both of them. ‘If you have so much downtime, you can go check headsets.’ Simon who was draped over Raphael like a particularly clingy cape looked like he wanted to complain but he kept his mouth shut when he saw Alec’s face. Alec bent over the speaker as Raf and Simon reluctantly went to do as they were told. ‘30 minutes to warm up,’ he said and after a beat added. ‘And if anyone has my flashlight, you have until the next check in to return it.’ ‘Thank you 30,’ said Jace, his voice crackling over the speaker. ‘And why anyone would bother taking your crappy flashlight is a mystery to me.’ Alec resisted the urge to drop everything and go to the dressing room just to punch his brother in the face. Instead he slipped his own headset on. ‘-- Seriously Raf, it’s not like any of us pushed Raj down the stairs,’ Simon was saying. ‘Not that he wouldn’t have deserved it with they way he was acting,’ said Raphael. ‘I can hear you loud and clear,’ said Alec relishing the way Simon swore. ‘And I’d appreciate it if we could avoid speaking of Raj tonight. Is that clear ?’ ‘I didn’t mean— well I did but— Raj is an asshole— but no. I mean yeah,’ Simon fumbled ‘Crystal,’ said Raphael cutting his boyfriend off. ‘Good,’ said Alec. ‘I’m going to check on Maia. I’ll see you in the booth.’ He slipped his headset off, coiled it up and headed downstairs. Clary was sweeping. Behind here, the projection screen flickered with grainy images of buildings, casting a dim light over the stage. When she saw him, she waved him over sheepishly. ‘I know you have a lot on your plate,’ she started. Alec sighed. ‘Just get to it,’ he said trying not to sound too impatient. ‘Lydia told me a few minutes ago that Aldertree wants the red glasses tonight but we’re two short ...’ ‘Of course we are,’ muttered Alec. ‘Does Meliorn know?’ ‘Umm ... that’s part of the problem,’ said Clary. ‘When I told him, he said, and I quote ‘I will not help that man contribute further to the visual atrocity that is this show’. So I wasn’t sure what to do.’ Alec pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I’ll deal with it.’ ‘Thanks Alec,’ said Clary. ‘You’re a great stage manager, you know.’ Alec almost sighed at her transparent attempt to improve his bad mood. ‘If you see my flashlight let me know.’ ‘Will do,’ she said. ‘I’m gonna give them the 15 minute warning when I finish this. Oh, and Izzy is looking for R-Raj’s replacement if you see him. Something about shoes I think.’ Alec nodded curtly and continued on his quest to find Maia. This time he was prepared for the door frame and managed to duck underneath it only to whack his knee on a table that hadn’t been there a minute ago. ‘Fuck,’ snapped Maia from somewhere in front of him. ‘The feeling is mutual believe me,’ said Alec rubbing his knee. ‘Why are the lights off if you aren’t doing projection?’ Maia growled. ‘I am doing projection,’ she said. ‘But Lydia just informed me that Aldertree wants Jace and whoever-the-fuck Raj’s replacement is to dance on this table and I need to reinforce it unless you want more broken bones.’ Alec’s headache intensified. ‘I’ll send Meliorn up to take care of it,’ he assured. ‘You get back to projection because warm ups are in 15 and we’re going to need lights.’ ‘Then there’s a good chance you won’t have projection,’ said Maia rounding on him, drill in one hand, the other adjusting her bandana. ‘Do what you can,’ said Alec. ‘Lydia and I will deal with Aldertree.’ Maia waved a hand at him dismissively which he took to mean that she needed to work and he headed down the back steps to the prop shop, where Meliorn was frowning at two lamps that looked pretty much identical, at least to Alec. ‘15 minutes to warm up,’ Clary’s voice came over the intercom. ‘What’s the story with the red glasses?’ asked Alec speaking loud to make himself heard over Jace’s response. ‘Red?’ said Meliorn without looking up. ‘With that table cloth?’ Alec reminded himself to breathe. ‘We both know he won’t admit it looks like shit until he’s see it,’ said Alec. He’d always found it was better not to beat around the bush, especially with Meliorn. ‘We are still two short,’ said Meliorn sounding sulky. ‘How was I supposed to know he would ‘fall in love’ with the rehearsal glasses?’ Alec groaned silently. ‘Great, hopefully he’ll hate them tonight and that will be the end of it.’ Meliorn didn’t say anything. ‘But on the off chance he doesn’t, please have back ups or something ready, regardless of how bad they may look,’ said Alec. ‘And do you have a flashlight I could use?’ Meliorn made a noncommittal grunt. ‘I lent mine to your sister last week and I’ve yet to get it back.’ ‘Naturally,’ said Alec. ‘Can you go help Maia? She’s reinforcing some table and she needs to work on the projections.’ He left without waiting for an answer because it hadn’t really been a question at all. Alec then encountered Lydia hovering just outside the prop shop door. ‘I’ve heard you’re in a mood today,’ she said mildly. Alec glared at her without much heat. ‘Speaking of moods ...’ Lydia sighed. ‘Aldertree is fit to be tied. He seems to have decided that the best way to reassert control over the show is to change his mind about everything.’ ‘And include a table dancing scene,’ added Alec. ‘When is that even supposed to happen?’ ‘I’m pretty sure it’s scene three,’ said Lydia wincing. ‘After the funeral scene?’ asked Alec gaping at her. ‘In ... the bar?’ Lydia nodded. ‘Jace must be having a field day,’ said Alec. ‘He hasn’t exactly been playing the scene in that tone.’ ‘You might want to say something to him actually,’ said Lydia. ‘He threatened to walk out. It was ... heated.’ ‘Will this day ever fucking end?’ said Alec more to himself than anything else. ‘Happy tech week to you too,’ said Lydia. ‘I’ll see you upstairs.’ ‘Oh, Meliorn says they actually don’t have enough red glasses, so two will be clear tonight just to give you a heads up.’ Lydia groaned. ‘Have Clary put them at the back, maybe he won’t notice.’ ‘If only we were that lucky,’ said Alec. ‘Catch you on the flipside.’ Lydia nodded and headed upstairs. Alec continued on. He could hear raised voices in the hall before he rounded the corner to the dressing room and he wasn’t particularly surprised to see Izzy and Jace facing off in the hallway. ‘-- And then there’s stupid,’ Izzy said heatedly. ‘Is this about the Raj thing or the Aldertree thing?’ asked Jace not looking particularly cowed. ‘You’re gonna end up suspended or something,’ said Izzy. ‘Which is stupid because they aren’t fucking worth it dumbass!’ ‘Now what?’ snapped Alec interrupting his siblings before things could escalate any further. ‘Izzy thinks I should let Aldertree walk all over me,’ said Jace. ‘Raj made a complaint against Jace,’ said Izzy speaking over him. ‘Aldertree literally tried to blackmail me,’ said Jace. ‘So Jace told him that Lydia would be a better director anyway,’ said Izzy. ‘And Aldertree decided to bring you into it—’ Alec glared at both of them. ‘What is with you two? It is tech week and this has been the show from hell ! I do not need this bullshit on top of everything else.’ They both looked at him startled if not altogether ashamed. ‘Aldertree is the director now, not Lydia, and I know we all hate him but it is what it is and what he says goes,’ said Alec taking advantage of the stunned silence. ‘Now will you please go back to doing whatever it is you’re actually supposed to be doing. Warm ups are in 10 and I need to find a fucking flashlight.’ His siblings gaped at him as he pushed past them into the dressing room where Lily was doing Aline’s hair while Helen zipped her up. On the other side of the room, Gretel and Alric were having a heated discussion in hushed tones. Alec ignored all of them and they wisely ignored him as well. ‘Alec wait, do you know Raj’s—’ Alec cut Izzy off. ‘The next person to say his name is going to be mopping the stage until closing night!’ Everyone glanced up, saw his face, and then quickly pretended to be engrossed in something else. ‘I was going to ask if you knew his replacement’s shoe size,’ said Izzy glaring. ‘He was here but I was tracking down a missing hat and no one thought to get his size because ... they don’t know what they’re doing? I don’t know.’ Alec deflated. ‘No, I have it in the bus book though. I’ll send Clary down with it after warm ups start.’ Izzy ruffled his hair. ‘We’re here for you big brother,’ she said. ‘Even when you’re a dick,’ added Jace. Izzy punched his shoulder and Alec left with a trace of a smile on his face. His good mood evaporated when he emerged into the theatre, projections still flickering ominously across the back of the stage to find Aldertree and his mother in the centre aisle. ‘Alec,’ said Maryse with the same faintly irritated tone that someone might say ‘it’s raining’. ‘Mother,’ said Alec trying not to sound too irritated himself. ‘Can I help you with something? I should really be getting up to the booth.’ ‘I was just telling your mother how sure I was that you would help Raj’s replacement get ... adjusted,’ said Aldertree somehow making it manage to sound both mild and insulting. Alec bristled but he knew better than to show it. ‘Of course,’ he said smoothly. ‘Even after Raj’s a-accident it’s important to make sure the show still goes on.’ ‘Ah yes,’ said Maryse. ‘The accident . I’m sure there will be no more ... unfortunate interpersonal misunderstandings. Your father and I expect you to behave professionally Alec, even if you insist on hiding up in the booth.’ ‘Yes, Mother,’ said Alec looking away. He hated the way that she always knew what buttons to push to make him feel the worst. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure that Clary has everything in place for tonight's run.’ ‘Clary is a nice girl,’ said Maryse and Alec gritted his teeth. She turned to Aldertree, ‘Don’t you think Clary is a nice girl?’ Alec blushed and cut in before Aldertree could say anything. ‘Mother, Clary is a very nice girl who is interested in my brother .’ ‘I’m just saying Alec,’ said Maryse. ‘She’s a nice girl. You know who else is nice? That Branwell girl.’ ‘Lydia has a boyfriend, Mother,’ said Alec. ‘I need to go. Warm ups are about to start.’ When neither Aldertree nor Maryse moved, Alec rolled his eyes and went around them, stepping over seats. Even though he was running behind, he stopped in the stairwell on the way to the booth. Everything was just ... too much. He needed a minute. He needed his mother to take her ‘girlfriend’ talk and go away. He needed his fucking flashlight. He ran his hands over his face twice and pulled himself together. He was about to head to the booth when someone cleared their throat. ‘What do you want?’ he snapped before he could stop himself. Could he not just have two seconds? ‘Are you Alexander Lightwood?’ He looked up. The person he had snapped at was not in fact Simon or Clary but a young Asian man with floppy hair and a purple shirt. Over that, he was wearing an ill-fitting suit jacket that Alec recognised as having belonged to— he-who-must-not-be-named. Shit . ‘You must be Magnus Bane,’ said Alec wincing. ‘Sorry things have been ...’ ‘I see that,’ said Magnus. ‘I’ve gather the ... departure of my predecessor was, at the risk of being cliche, rather dramatic.’ ‘You could say that,’ said Alec weakly. ‘Can I help you with something? You should probably be downstairs. Warm ups are starting any minute.’ ‘I was actually looking for you,’ said Magnus, who, Alec had noticed, had really nice eyes. ‘Oh really,’ he said trying not to get caught staring. ‘What do you need?’ Magnus dug into the pocket of the robe and pulled out Alec’s flashlight. ‘This was in my garment bag,’ he explained. Alec stared. ‘I could kiss you right now. Not that I would— not that kissing is bad— but it wouldn't be appropriate— I mean ... umm.’ Magnus took pity on him, smirking. ‘At least take me on date first.’ Alec stared. ‘What?’ ‘I’m asking you on a date, pretty boy,’ said Magnus. ‘And you’re hopefully saying yes.’ Alec opened and closed his mouth a few times but no sound came out. ‘Unless I misjusged the situation,’ said Magnus quickly. ‘No, no,’ said Alec quickly. ‘I’d— It would be, umm ... magic— I mean great, yes?’ ‘Okay then Alexander,’ said Magnus ‘2 minutes to warm up,’ rang out Clary’s voice through the intercom. ‘I guess we’ll have to talk about our date later,’ said Magnus. Alec nodded dumbly wondering what have possessed him to say yes. His mother was going to blow a gasket. She was determined to pretend like he had never come out at all, as if that would somehow ‘fix’ him. But ... Magnus was ... magical and Alec felt a tiny thrill in the pit of his stomach. ‘Hey Magnus?’ he said turning back down the stairs. Magnus stopped at the bottom and looked back up at him expectantly. ‘Break a leg!’
10780929	float	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Do Kyungsoo \| D.O, Park Chanyeol", "Fandom": "EXO (Band)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by encoru", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-01T00:00:00", "words": "5,860", "Additional Tags": "implied depression, summer-inspired, Life Introspection, Canon Divergence", "Relationship": "Do Kyungsoo \| D.O/Park Chanyeol", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	This is joy, this is summerKeep alive, stay alive - Chanyeol tosses and turns on his bed. Summer is now in full swing and the heat comes in huge, strong waves these days. It threatens to swallow him whole until he drowns in his own sweat. He has put his air conditioner in maximum cool already but even the machine can’t seem to handle the humidity of the weather.He’s tired . He just wants to fall asleep in peace.Giving up momentarily, he gets up and takes off his shirt. He forms it into a ball and throws the cloth on the laundry basket opposite his bed. He lets out the breath he didn’t notice he’s been holding when it lands perfectly on top of the basket, but frowns when it falls on the floor shortly after. The basket is already overflowing with his soiled clothes. He makes a mental note to do his laundry first thing tomorrow morning.Chanyeol walks to his window and stares at the city outside. Down below, streetlights flicker actively, joining the mix of yellow and red lights of vehicles traversing in the night. A few people are still walking, either coming to or going home from work. The day has long been over but the city never sleeps in this part of the world.He looks back to his room. It’s almost completely engulfed by darkness. The only light comes from the moon outside, barely illuminating his empty king-sized bed and his bare walls.Chanyeol suddenly feels a strong urge to escape.He grabs his phone on the bedside table and types a message. 10:45 PMChanyeolLet’s run away tomorrow. He thinks it’s a stupid idea but he presses the send button anyway. He’s too tired to be logical right now. He’s tired of the summer and its heat, tired of the city and its restlessness, tired of nights like this where he gets this sinking feeling that he can’t seem to push away no matter how many times he tries. He just wants get away from here. His phone buzzes a minute later. He gets the response he expects the least. 10:46 PM KyungsooOkay. Chanyeol wakes up to a warm hand patting his face. In the haze of his sleep, he tries to push it away and bury his head on his pillows. The hand disappears, only to be replaced by strong arms lifting him by the shoulders, forcing him to sit up.Chanyeol opens up one eye. In front of him is Kyungsoo, staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. He’s clad in a white shirt, black shorts, and his favorite pair of Flyknits. Behind him sits his backpack on the floor. He looks like he just freshly got out of shower.“What time is it?” Chanyeol starts. He wants to ask, “Why are you here?” but Kyungsoo tends to show up in his apartment unannounced more often recently that he’s no longer surprised.“Four o’clock,” Kyungsoo answers. “Start packing.”Chanyeol does as he’s told. He retrieves his worn out duffel bag from the drawer and starts to grab clothes from his closet, throwing them haphazardly on the bed. He runs to the bathroom to gets his pouch of toiletries. He starts to pile everything on his bag when Kyungsoo grabs a shirt from him and starts to fold it neatly before placing it inside. “I’ll take care of this. Go wash up.”Chanyeol immediately undresses and proceeds to the bathroom. He feels his senses slowly start to wake up when the warm water hits his skin but his mind is still in a state of haze. He rubs his eyes then covers them in the curve of his palms in a vain attempt to alleviate their puffiness. It feels like he has only slept for a minute before he was forced to face consciousness again.When he goes out, he sees Kyungsoo opening his drawers one by one, obviously in search of something. Their bags are now sitting side by side atop his bed.“Where are your car keys?” Kyungsoo asks.Chanyeol grabs the pants hanging on the door of his bathroom, fishes something out of its pocket, then throws the car keys to Kyungsoo. The guy catches it perfectly.“Where’s your car?” He questions him back in return while he towels his hair dry. He doesn’t mind Kyungsoo using his car, but it’s so unlike him to use a vehicle not of his own. Chanyeol knows how much the guy loves his Maserati.“I lent it to Baekhyun last night. He said he needs an extra car for a road trip with colleagues today. Let’s go.”Chanyeol silently follows Kyungsoo out of his own apartment. He watches Kyungsoo place their bags in the back of his G65 and hop on the driver’s seat as if he does this everyday. As he gets on the passenger seat and puts on his seatbelt, he racks his brain for the other times that Kyungsoo has drove his truck. He thinks maybe Kyungsoo has done it twice - maybe the number is even greater - but his mind is still lagging. Giving up, he settles on plugging his phone to the aux cord and pulls up his morning drive playlist.The engine soon roars to life. Chanyeol turns to Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo has always been small but when he’s sitting on a seat made for a six-foot tall guy, hands placed firmly on the big steering wheel in front of him like this - he just looks tiny. Kyungsoo looks back at him and normally Chanyeol would feel guilty when he gets caught staring, but there’s a glint in Kyungsoo’s eyes that forces his gaze to stay.“Are you ready to escape?” Kyungsoo asks and smiles for the first time today.“Where are we going?” Chanyeol asks him in return.“To somewhere you won’t forget,” Kyungsoo replies as he pulls out of the parking lot, eyes now on the road.Chanyeol finally peels his eyes away from Kyungsoo and stares ahead. He looks out on the window. Streaks of orange can now be seen on the sky, signaling the start of sunrise. As the night slowly gives way to the day, Chanyeol feels the excitement thrum on his veins. They’ve been on the road for almost two hours now and Chanyeol still sees no end in sight. The expressway they’re currently traversing through seems to run for miles and miles and he fears Kyungsoo might be getting weary soon. He still hasn’t told him exactly where they’re going.“Muchangpo Beach,” Kyungsoo says all of a sudden, as if reading Chanyeol’s thoughts.Chanyeol gapes. He’s never been to Muchangpo before, but he knows it’s a four-hour drive from Seoul. He doesn’t even know if Kyungsoo has slept well. The guy is notorious for working late hours on weekdays.“Do you want to switch at the next gas station?”“I’m good,” Kyungsoo says. The corners of his lips pull up into a smile. Chanyeol thinks if this is the sight that greets him every morning, maybe he’d be more motivated to get up and go to work. “No need to worry yourself. Sleep if you want to.”“I’m not yet sleepy,” Chanyeol replies but his body breaks out into a yawn right after, betraying him. Kyungsoo chuckles. “No dude, seriously. Just tell me if you’re tired. We can switch once we’re halfway there.”“Half of this drive involves a zigzag road, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo glances at him. “I’m really fine. I can manage.”Chanyeol lets go of the argument after that. He shifts his attention on watching their surroundings. The sun has fully risen now and based from the bright lights streaming inside the car, he can only imagine how scorching hot it must be outside despite it only being eight o’clock in the morning.“Thanks, man. Don’t worry, I won’t fall asleep.” Chanyeol says and smiles, even if he knows Kyungsoo isn’t looking at him.An hour later, Chanyeol feels his eyelids begin to droop but straightens up on his seat when he sees the view gradually change. The tall buildings have been replaced now by a vast landscape of farmland. Old, traditional houses are situated at least one kilometer away from each other. The sky is a brilliant shade of blue, the clouds more prominent and huge - a complete contrast to the pale, smoggy skyline that he’s used to.“We’re almost there,” Kyungsoo says.Chanyeol doesn’t answer. Instead, he grabs his phone and stops the music, only to replace it with a hard EDM remix of Justin Bieber’s Cold Water and turns the speakers on full volume.He sees Kyungsoo visibly grimace. Chanyeol laughs. The bass is thrumming is so hard that Chanyeol can almost feel it on his skin, with the way the music is blasting within the cramped space of his truck.“Why did you replace the song with this?” Kyungsoo half-shouts.“So you won’t fall asleep!” Chanyeol shouts back. Kyungsoo shakes his head in response, prompting him to laugh loud again. “I thought you like Justin Bieber!”He starts to pump his fist in the air and makes little dancing gestures, acting the same way he does when he’s at an EDM party. Beside him, Kyungsoo has his condescending smirk on, the kind that he wears when he thinks Chanyeol is being dumb again, but he’s mouthing the lyrics every now and then.At one point during the buildup of the song, Chanyeol grabs one of Kyungsoo’s hand and forces him to throw it in the air, causing Kyungsoo to smack him hard on the shoulder.The road is almost empty now, save from them and the Sedan in front who seems to be taking their time. Chanyeol watches Kyungsoo tap on the turn signal before sharply moving to the next lane and taking over.“That guy drives like he’s taking a walk in the park,” Chanyeol snorts.“The speed limit around here is 100 kilometers, not 40.” Kyungsoo replies. They pass by a street sign shortly after that proves Kyungsoo is right. “But my former colleagues and I used to race around here. I went as bad as 180.”Chanyeol gapes at Kyungsoo. He has that glint on his eyes again along with a fond expression on his face as he reminisces. Somehow, he finds it difficult to picture Kyungsoo driving on this road, going as fast as his car would allow, knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel tight. Kyungsoo is the most level-headed and reserved person that he knows. He didn’t peg him to be the type to be as risky as that but then again, he reminds himself that there are still probably a lot of things he’s yet to learn about Kyungsoo.“Did you win?” He asks.“I didn’t,” Kyungsoo smirks. “I slowed down when I thought my life flashed before my eyes. The car started to shake.”Chanyeol laughs despite himself. Then, an idea pops in his head. He turns to Kyungsoo. “Hey dude, what if—”“No,” Kyungsoo shuts him down. “Don’t even think about it, Chanyeol. I’m not getting a speeding ticket again.”Chanyeol turns the volume down when the road gives way to sharp turns. He holds onto the handle located above his window and sees Kyungsoo’s grip on the steering wheel tighten. He’s not afraid of zigzag roads and he knows Kyungsoo is a careful driver but this is his first time traversing through this path, on top of being an anxious bundle of nerves lately.He feels the ringing on his ears as they ascend the hilly road. A hand rests on his left thigh.“That’s the beach we’re going to,” Kyungsoo says without looking at him.Chanyeol looks to his right. They’re right beside a steep cliff covered in pine trees and wild bushes. Down below, he sees the beach. Even from this distance, he sees the sea glimmer under the sunlight.As they descend back on the low land, the pine trees that line up the path seems to increase in height. There comes a point where they seem to be caving in unto the road, like two hands waiting to grab you from above, and Chanyeol shivers at the thought of driving here at night. He’s determined to take over the wheel on their way back home but he’s starting to think maybe he should let Kyungsoo drive first, until they get out of this creepy path at least.They stop at the next gas station in Muchangpo. Kyungsoo proceeds to the restroom while Chanyeol goes ahead to buy them snacks for breakfast. There are surprisingly only a few people despite it being the peak of summer, with most of them cargo drivers resting and grabbing something to eat.Chanyeol remembers how he used to go on long drives like this with his family. Back when he was still a kid, his dad drove them cross-country every time he got a holiday. He and his sister Yoora fit themselves in the cramped backseat, covered in blankets and toys, and Yoora often kicked him for his long limbs that took up too much space. Of course, he kicked her back in return, which resulted in a fight. Their mom scolded them and both pinched their ears, and Chanyeol recalls whining about how unfair it was because he had bigger ears than Yoora so it hurted more for him. His dad never took his eyes off the road but he always laughed, eyes crinkling as he stared at his small family through the rearview mirror.As they grew older, the long drives have lessened until it finally stopped altogether. His dad is too weak to drive across the country now and he’s lucky if he can even manage to stay behind the wheel for more than three hours straight. Nowadays, he’d rather hire a chauffeur or take a plane. Meanwhile, his mom is too busy managing the family restaurant. Yoora is the same, preoccupied between juggling work and married life at the same time.Chanyeol sighs. Twenty-four is a good age. He has a flourishing career that enables him to live on his own. He can already make decisions without having to wait for his parents’ opinion. He can literally do anything he wants to because he’s now an adult. But some days, he just wants to go back to being a child again. He wants to come back to the safety of his mom’s arms, bicker with Yoora about the smallest things, or fall asleep listening to his father’s voice. Some days, he just wants to stop pretending he’s got it all together and succumb to his misery. Some days, he just doesn’t want to feel anything.He’s afraid those days are becoming more frequent as of late.Chanyeol gets interrupted out of his thoughts when Kyungsoo taps him on the shoulder. He gives him his own black sesame bread and banana milk. Kyungsoo mumbles a soft “thanks” before taking a bite.“Is it your first time here?” Kyungsoo asks, large eyes looking up at him.Chanyeol tries to rack his brain for all the times he’s been at this part of Chungcheongnam before and fails to come up with any. “Yeah, it is.”Kyungsoo smiles at him. “Good. You’ll love it here.” I’ll love anywhere that’s not home, he wants to reply, but Kyungsoo is already walking back to his truck. The 20-minute drive to the beach proper is more quiet, but Chanyeol simply lets it be. Kyungsoo hums a melody he doesn’t know, fingers drumming on the steering wheel in time with the tune. He seems to be really happy to be here.They’re driving by a small village made up of tiny, bungalow houses when Chanyeol feels a hand rest on his thigh again.“These are all designed by me,” Kyungsoo says, voice almost a whisper, as if he’s letting in Chanyeol on a secret. A small smile graces his lips.“All of these?!” Chanyeol gasps. He looks back on the houses. They’re dainty bungalows reminiscent of old Victorian architecture, a design he hasn’t seen anywhere in Seoul. The houses are beautiful but most of them look empty.“Yeah. I was fresh out of college when my uncle contacted me and said he needed a freelance architect for a small project. Never knew his definition of small was basically an entire village,” Kyungsoo explains with a chuckle.Chanyeol nods in understanding. He tries to imagine a younger Kyungsoo, skinnier and smaller than he is now, bubbling with excitement as he spreads a hundred blueprints in front of him. Hands tainted with charcoal as he draws on a sheet of paper with his pencil, thick brows knitted in concentration, his black-rimmed glasses hanging low on the bridge of his nose. It’s an interesting image.“You did great, those houses are beautiful,” He tells Kyungsoo.“Thanks.”“Are they all occupied?”“Every once in awhile, yes,” When Kyungsoo sees Chanyeol frown in confusion, he adds, “Those are vacation houses. People either buy them as a spare or rent them out.”If he had a house that beautiful, Chanyeol thinks, he’ll never want to live anywhere else. In fact, if he had a house designed by Kyungsoo himself, he’ll never ask for anything more. But then again he remembers his own condo apartment - which he learned later on was designed by Kyungsoo too - and how its big, bare walls seem to cage him in every time he arrives from work, a blatant reminder of the lack of warm bodies in the new space he has learned to call home.Kyungsoo pulls over a few meters away from the beach. Chanyeol grabs their bags from the backseat before he gets out. He immediately regrets wearing his all-black tracksuit today the moment he finds himself directly under the sunlight, the sweltering heat beating down harshly on him. The heat is relentless. He’s only been outside for what seems like two minutes but he can already feel the beads of sweat collecting on his pits.“You good?” Kyungsoo asks, fanning himself with the bottom of his shirt. Chanyeol nods. He suddenly wishes he had imitated Kyungsoo and wore a thin, white shirt as well.The briny scent of the sea greets his nose as they make their descent down on the beach. The sun seems to shine even brighter in this area, a ball of blinding, yellow inferno on the blue sky. The sea and the sand sparkle under its light, making them appear like blankets of blue and gold littered with tiny crystals.Chanyeol thinks if this is the view that greets him on each day of summer, then he probably wouldn’t mind the heat just as much.He takes a couple of pictures of the scenic view with his phone before Kyungsoo tugs him by the arm and indicates Chanyeol to follow him.They settle on an al fresco table located right next to a tiny open-air restaurant and bar. Chanyeol looks around. Muchangpo isn’t filled with a lot of people, much to his pleasure. Different stalls fill up in the place, most of them grilling seafood and corn under the shade of their huge umbrella. Cottages can be found on the whole length of the beach but not all of them are occupied. There are families on a vacation, a small group of friends, and some learning to kayak but other than them, there isn’t a lot to consider a crowd. He figures that most people either stayed within the congested white beaches near Seoul or went all the way to Jeju.For once, Chanyeol is thankful Kyungsoo decided to bring him here.Chanyeol pulls down his cap lower at the same time that Kyungsoo removes his. A strong gust of wind blows in their direction and Chanyeol watches it mess up Kyungsoo’s hair. His hair is getting too long now, fringe almost reaching his eyebrows. Chanyeol remembers how trimmed Kyungsoo’s hair was the first time they met.“See that house atop that hill?” Kyungsoo points behind him and Chanyeol turns around. He sees a big white house nestled on the edge of a cliff. “That’s where my office used to be.”“You used to live here?”Kyungsoo shakes his head. “No, but I used to go here a lot for that project. My boss - my uncle’s friend - would let me work in that office whenever I was around.”Chanyeol imagines doing the four-hour drive here on a daily basis. He doesn’t know if it’s something he can do.“Did you swim a lot?”Kyungsoo chuckles. “I never had the time to swim, but I went fishing with my boss sometimes. We picked clams when the sea parted.”A picture of younger Kyungsoo flashes in his mind. A skinnier and probably tanned Kyungsoo, dressed like he is now, joining hundreds of people who walk down on the emerged road from the sea, picking clams and seaweed with his bare hands.Somehow, it feels like Kyungsoo is giving him a tour of his previous life, letting him on a secret, and Chanyeol doesn’t know what to make of it.“That must be a really nice workplace,” Chanyeol replies and he means it, “You got an awesome view.”Kyungsoo smiles. “Yeah, I know. I miss it sometimes.”Chanyeol orders them a grilled tuna steak for lunch and volunteers to pay for the tab. Kyungsoo insisted on paying for his own but Chanyeol is more persistent. It’s the least he can do since Kyungsoo already drove them all the way here.“This one’s on me though,” Kyungsoo says with a smirk when the waiter brings a beer tower on their table. Chanyeol could do nothing but laugh. He can’t recall when was the last time he went drinking during broad daylight. Some 2-3 years ago, maybe? Probably around the time when he was tearing his hair apart about not making it to the dean’s list during university.Kyungsoo pours them a glass of beer each. Chanyeol downs the alcohol in one gulp, letting the cold, malty liquid wash away the saltiness in his mouth from the tuna he just had earlier. The sun is still shining bright but the breeze of the sea blows towards them, the wind a cool reprieve from the heat that lingers on his skin. Nothing else can be heard but the gentle splashing of water as the waves hit the shore, the caws of the crows flying above them, and the simple chatter of the people nearby.Chanyeol briefly closes his eyes as he drinks his second glass. He basks in this kind of quiet. He thinks of the solitude of his big empty apartment, of the buzzing of the concrete jungle when he’s asleep. He discovers he prefers this silence more.He never thought all it would take is a text message, a four-hour drive on the road, and Kyungsoo’s comforting company for him to feel and taste summer like this.Chanyeol has just finished his third glass when he lets out the question that’s been bugging his mind for days. “Have you ever thought about leaving it all?”Kyungsoo stares at him. “What do you mean?”Chanyeol gulps. He’s starting to feel the alcohol now. “I don’t know, just leaving. Packing your bags and never coming back again. Starting all over in a faraway land where no single soul knows you. Figuring your life out.”Kyungsoo chuckles. “You mean soul-searching?”Chanyeol looks back at Kyungsoo. “Is that what do people call it these days? Yeah, soul-searching or whatever.”Kyungsoo sighs. Chanyeol watches him slosh his now half-empty glass as he stares ahead. There is nothing in front of them but the endless sea and the horizon.“Sometimes. It’s easy to think about those things when you’re tired. It’s easy to think about escaping. But it’s hard to actually leave.”“Because you’d be called a quitter?”“Because you have responsibilities,” Kyungsoo turns and faces Chanyeol, staring at him in the eye. Chanyeol stares back. “People can be replaced depending on the job, but it takes time. Weeks or months, even. There are certain tasks only you can do and once you leave them, things might suddenly fall apart. You can’t just let that happen.”Chanyeol nods in understanding. He knows exactly how that feels but the alcohol fuels his curiosity. “What if you didn’t have responsibilities?”Kyungsoo laughs and looks at him like he’s the most ridiculous person ever. “What kind of question is that, Chanyeol?”“Just answer me.”Kyungsoo empties his glass before pouring alcohol in it again. Their beer tower is half-empty now. “If I didn’t have responsibilities, I’d just probably be here with you everyday.”Chanyeol feels warmth crept up his neck. He isn’t sure if it’s the flush from the alcohol, the heat from the sun, or the way Kyungsoo is staring at him now with a funny smile gracing his lips.“Dude, you’re so crazy,” Chanyeol laughs, hoping that Kyungsoo doesn’t notice his blush. He pours himself another glass and drinks it all in one go. He is definitely getting more tipsy now.“What would we even do?”“I don’t know,” Kyungsoo pushes back his fringe that keeps getting blown by the wind, “Maybe just be like this. Drink beer during the day, catch fish in the afternoon, smoke weed in the evening. Then when the sea parts during the middle of summer, we’ll go pick clams and seaweed for the elderly. Sounds great?”Chanyeol lets out the loudest laughter he’s had that day. “Sounds like a plan to me.”Kyungsoo laughs with him, cheeks forming a scrunch, eyes disappearing into crescents. Kyungsoo has always looked young for his age but he looks even younger whenever he laughs like this. Chanyeol sometimes wishes he was gifted with the look of youth as well.When his laughter dies down, Kyungsoo holds Chanyeol again with his gaze. He schools his face into a serious expression but amusement lingers on his eyes. “What about you, Chanyeol? What would you do?”He glances at the sea in front of him and imagines being washed away by the waves.“I honestly have no idea,” he replies.They pour themselves a glass each for the last time, emptying the tall beer tower. Kyungsoo clinks his glass against his before drinking his beer. Chanyeol replies with a laugh. The tips of Kyungsoo’s ears are red now and a flush has also crept up his neck but Chanyeol knows by experience that Kyungsoo is still far from being drunk. The guy is a heavy drinker, unlike him.“Let’s walk on the beach,” Kyungsoo says.Kyungsoo takes off his shirt right then and there, startling Chanyeol a bit. Chanyeol watches him fold his shirt neatly before placing it inside his bag. He tries not to stare at the way Kyungsoo’s chest heaves when he breathes, at the lines that dip on his stomach, or at how his pale skin seems to glow under the bright sunlight. Chanyeol gets rid of his own tracksuit and stuffs them inside his duffel bag, leaving nothing but his shorts on. He grabs his bottle of sunscreen and starts to spread them generously all over his torso.“Want me to put some on your back?” Kyungsoo offers.Chanyeol relents and sits down. Kyungsoo is a lot shorter than him and it would just be unfair to let the guy struggle to reach up to his back. He lets out a sigh when Kyungsoo’s hands start spreading the sunscreen on his bare back, leaving lingering warmth on every expanse of skin they touched.Chanyeol does the same for Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo’s skin feel warm under his palms but his back remain strong and firm to the touch.They change into their slippers and start to walk by the beach, the fine sand dipping on each step they take. He feels the sand seep between his toes.“What do you want to run away from?” Kyungsoo asks, looking up at him.Chanyeol is quick to look away. He’s afraid he might get lost in those round eyes; they seem to compete with the vastness of the sea. “I,” he tries, “I just want—”What do you want to run away from? The question resonates within Chanyeol. He wants to run away from his job, he wants to run away from responsibilities, he wants to run away from the ghosts of himself that seem to haunt him every night. But that’s the problem — he doesn’t know what exactly he’s running away from. He doesn’t think he’s capable of giving Kyungsoo a concrete answer. When he glances at Kyungsoo, he discovers the guy is still looking up at him.“I,” Chanyeol tries again, “I just want life to stop sometimes.” He scratches his head. He feels so stupid.Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. “But life doesn’t stop for anybody.”Chanyeol pouts. “I know! But don’t you ever think about it, Kyungsoo? Will we always just stay like this? Working our asses off in the corporate world while trying to save up for a future that doesn’t even hold any guarantee? We sacrifice our time for our friends and our family. And by the time we’re finally stable, when the day comes that we finally have time for them..t-they’re…”He stops as he runs out of breath but Kyungsoo is still looking at him, encouraging him to go on.“..T-they’re either too old and frail to do the activities we’ve always wanted them to do with us. Or gone.”Chanyeol blinks. He doesn’t want to think about it, but it crossed his mind too many times. The good thing about growing up is your perspective broadens. The bad thing about it is realizing that as you grow old, so does your parents, and they seem to do it faster than you do. Chanyeol has always been afraid of not being able to keep up.“I understand,” Kyungsoo replies a moment later. “My dad always nags me about coming home to Ilsan even though I do it every weekend. Says my mom needs company.”Chanyeol looks at him. “But doesn’t Seungsoo live next door?”Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Yes, but he’s busy with his own kids now. Mom doesn’t want to bother him if she can help it.”They stop by a closed shop in the middle of the beach. The shop features a wall mural of a girl playing a piano by the sea, her face covered by her long, silky hair. Nimble fingers touch the piano keys while the sea continues with its waves behind her. The mural is made of such vibrant, striking colors that Chanyeol ponders fishermen could probably still see it even from a distance.“My parents are getting old and I’m afraid I’m disappointing them,” Chanyeol whispers as he traces the lines of the mural with his fingers, “I’m already 24 and I still don’t know what to do with my life.”“You got your whole life to figure that out,” Kyungsoo replies. He’s wearing one of those bright, reassuring smiles again that Chanyeol loves so much. “You’re not supposed to figure out everything at 24, Chanyeol. Stop rushing things.”Chanyeol blinks. “Damn, when did you get so wise? Did you inhale Confucius or something?”Kyungsoo moves to smack him but Chanyeol is quick to recoil. Thankfully, the hit doesn’t come.“My dad’s words.”Kyungsoo suddenly removes his slippers and runs to the sea. Chanyeol chases after him. The sand feels burning hot under his soles. He finally gets relief when his body finally makes contact with the water.The water is shallow in these parts. Chanyeol has to walk around five meters before he gets submerged up to his chest. The waves are gentle too, swaying him every now and then but not strong enough to throw him back to the shore.Kyungsoo appears beside him. His body is splayed out in the water, eyes closed, as he floats in the sea.“How do you like Muchangpo so far?” Kyungsoo asks.Chanyeol sloshes water at him. “I like it. It’s very quiet.”Kyungsoo opens his eyes and stands on his feet. The water reaches up to his ears, whereas it only reaches a little past Chanyeol’s chest.“I go here whenever I need to escape. It makes me feel grounded,” He gestures to the bungalow atop the hill, “Makes me remember how it all started. Why I’m doing the things I’m doing right now.”Chanyeol hums. He can’t think of any place that makes him feel grounded but he knows one person who does and he’s right in front of him.“Sometimes, you just have to let it go, Yeol. Life doesn’t stop, but this is why we’re here. So you can run away with me,” Kyungsoo adds with a smile, lips forming into a heart as he flashes his full teeth.Chanyeol smiles back at him.Kyungsoo returns to his former position again and floats on his back. Chanyeol imitates him, arms on his sides. The water feels amazing on his back. He tries to ignore the sunlight that directly hits him on the face.“Sorry, I just like doing this. Letting the waves sway me. It’s so..” Kyungsoo says beside him, “..relaxing.”“Mmm.”Chanyeol wishes life is as easy as floating in the sea. He wishes he could just let go of everything and completely let the waves take hold of him and bring him wherever they please. Then, his mind strays again to a thought he had earlier.It would be so easy now, with him floating like this, for the waves to take him for good, for the sea to swallow him whole. He bets no one would even notice as the waves come back to kissing the shore because that’s what they’re always meant to do.Chanyeol opens his eyes when he feels Kyungsoo’s fingers thread with his. “Stop thinking.”Chanyeol stands on his feet. Kyungsoo follows him. Kyungsoo shoots him a deadpan glare.“Stop thinking,” He says again.Chanyeol wants to scream. He wishes it was that simple. His mind has always been on overdrive for as long as he can remember.“What are you even saying?” He replies, not intending to sound irritated, but he still does.“Clear your mind for once, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says, stepping closer. He still hasn’t let go of his hand. “I brought you here because you said you wanted to run away. So stop overthinking and just enjoy the water.”Chanyeol sighs heavily. Kyungsoo is right.Chanyeol floats on his back again and lets the sea wash his worries away, even if just for today. Kyungsoo threads their fingers together, his hand soft and comforting beneath the water.Summer is in full swing and the sadness comes in huge, strong waves to Chanyeol these days.But with the sea on his back and Kyungsoo on his side, Chanyeol thinks the waves aren’t strong enough to take him and let him drown. He’d simply let himself be thrown back to the shore because that’s always been where he’s meant to be.
10719519	Rey Escorpion	{ "Archive Warning": "Underage Sex", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": null, "Language": "Español", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by OoYUKINIIoO", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-24T00:00:00", "words": "4,549", "Additional Tags": "Eventual Romance, Best Friends, Platonic Relationships, Drunken Confessions, Boys Kissing", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley, Lysander scamander /Albus Severus Potter", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	∞ Titulo: Rey Escorpión.∞ N/A: Harry Potter no me pertenece, todos los derechos son de las editoriales la WB y su autora J.K Rowling. Yo tan solo hago Slash sin fines de lucro más que el regalo de su tiempo para mis historias. "Esta historia participa en "Amigo invisible" del Foro "Hogwarts a través de los años"y esta dedicado a MrsDarfoy. Espero que de todo corazón que te guste.∞ Autora:YUKI-NII∞ Rating: NC 13∞ Resumen:Scorpius lleva enamorado de Rose casi desde que la conoció, pero no es hasta último año que ella parece interesada en él. Albus, que ha descubierto que está enamorado de su mejor, cada día está más taciturno y distante.∞ Pareja: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Potter..:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:. .:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:. Can`t take my eyes off .:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:. .:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.I love you, baby,And if it's quite alright,I need you, baby,To warm a lonely night.I love you, baby.Trust in me when I say:Oh, pretty baby,Don't bring me down, I pray.Oh pretty baby,Now that I found you, stayAnd let me love you, baby.Let me love you.Can`t take my eyes off-Frankie Valli………Albus a veces piensa en posibilidades, en una ramificación intensa de todo lo que pudo o no suceder tras que el sombrero gritara Slytherin en lugar de Gryffindor. En la forma en la que su familia reacciono y de su mano siendo fuertemente sujetada por el hijo de un enemigo escolar de una época diferente.Hay noches así, que sus ojos se quedan fijos sobre el techo de su cama, y piensa y piensa, sobre los sabores de los pasteles que los elfos de Malfoy Manor hace o de las nuevas crías que los pavorreales albinos han tenido y que deambulan por los jardines de la misma. Piensa en jugo de calabaza y en el abrazo de la abuela Molly que se reserva solo para navidades y Halloween, y que antes de Hogwarts recibía cada domingo.Albus piensa, imagina y vuelve a su punto de inicio, a sentir el vacío de incomprensión que brilla en el fondo de los ojos de su padre pero que no existe cuando Draco Malfoy va a mirarlo a la habitación de Scorpius durante las semanas del verano que él se queda de vacaciones en la mansión con su mejor amigo. Solo para asegurarse que este bien y continuar con su ronda por los pasillos antes de dormir como un perro guardián, asegurando el área donde están sus seres querido.A veces Albus se siente un poco traicionero ante sus propios sentimientos y sus inútiles preferencias, de guardarse todo para sí mismo y ser el hijo rebelde del matrimonio perfecto de la Inglaterra mágica.—Todos tenemos expectativas —. Le diría un día Draco, sentado bajo el viejo roble del jardín, con una novela antigua sobre el regazo —. Eres parecido a tu padre — y elevaría una mano para callarle la réplica a Albus — Físicamente, de entre tus hermanos y tú, eres una copia exacta de cabello revuelto y miopía escondida tras lentillas de contacto. No eres solo su hijo, eres un Potter, así que el mundo mágico espera que este hijo haga grandes cosas, que se comporte de tal o cual manera, que digas siempre lo correcto, y seas un líder innato de buenas acciones y justicia. Que no seas, por ejemplo, amigo de Scorpius, y por supuesto que honres la tradición jugando quidditch.Albus suspiraría, cansado de escuchar de Draco lo que ya sabía. Y herido porque era el padre de su mejor amigo quien le indicaba las cosas en las que parecía se había empeñado en fallar a propósito. Draco sin embargo le sonreiría, como si conociera sus pensamientos divagantes y le asegurara, sin decirlo, que todo estaría bien, sin importar si cumplía esas expectativas o no.Cuando ese verano termina y él se ve regresando a casa para tener una nueva discusión con los torpes intentos de su padre por acercarse a él es que se vería extrañando las rondas de Draco por los pasillos cerca de la media noche.Y el olor del shampoo de Scorpius sobre la almohada. Porque si en algo todos se equivocan, incluso Draco, es que Albus permanece ahí, junto al rubio, no porque sea una etapa de insurrección, sino porque su corazón encuentra su hogar, cuando los ojos de Scorpius le miran.………Albus tiene 16 cuando se ve asaltado por uno de los gemelos Scamander, no sabe diferenciar bien cuál de los dos es, porque él nunca ha sido bueno en resaltar las cosas que hacen única a la gente, pero si sabe leer las malas intenciones escondidas en los ojos.—Debes convencer a Lily que se una a nosotros en hosgmeade.Lysander dice en cuanto sus brazos han encerrado a Albus contra la pared, a pesar de los 7 centímetros de altura que le quedan muy grandes y los parpados caídos de ojos verdes que le enfocan con aburrimiento.—Papá no le ha firmado el permiso esta vez —. Albus se limita a decir, o a repetir, porque está seguro que Lily ya lo ha hecho, decirles a todos, con un puchero incluido de su falta al pueblo ese fin de semana por haberle mentido a mamá acerca de una cita tenida en verano. James la había chivado, como no, con su título de hermano mayor y hombre celoso. Albus secretamente temía por la vida amorosa no solo de Lily sino de la futura hija de su hermano.—Pero tú sí que lo tienes firmado —. Lys sonríe, un pequeño zorro albino presionando. Albus suspira con hastió como si no fuera la primera vez que alguien le dice tal cosa —. Todos sabemos que nunca lo usas y que incluso se lo has vendido a James un par de veces —. Lys da un paso hacia adelante, Albus se encoge porque no es afecto al contacto físico obligado.—Lo he hecho.(Más veces de lo que cualquiera puede imaginar) quiere agregar, porque prefiere la tranquilidad de su habitación y joder un poco a los castigos de su padre sobre James, que las tazas de chocolate y los comics son su forma de celebración.—Pero esta vez no lo harás, ¿cierto? —Lysander sonríe ante un conocimiento público que ha tomado fuerza dentro de su propio círculo de amigos de la infancia.Para nadie es un secreto que Rose se ha alejado de Albus desde su primer año de escuela, es una ruptura insondable, y algo desconocido para todos los adultos, Albus tiene que concederle eso, de ser una chica perfecta enfrente de sus padres y tíos y una perra racista dentro de su sala común en el castillo. Como si no, se ha mantenido siempre al margen y a salvo entre ambas partes, pretendiendo, sonriendo, y dándole miradas de decepción por no ser lo que se suponía en el colegio, aislándole, para mantener a salvo su propia reputación.Albus no lo entiende y no finge hacerlo, así que un golpe bajo, como que ella cuente con quien saldrá a Hosgmeade, no es realidad una sorpresa. De hecho, ha estado esperando que algo así pase desde que regresaron de semana de pascuas. Así que respira hondo, sus ojos cayendo sobre un lunar en la barbilla que solo Lysander tiene, y reconociéndolo por fin.—Cierto —. Concede irritado, de ser atrapado en un espacio pequeño y de hablar de algo que ha estado evitando por mucho tiempo.Lysander le sonríe, como si no esperara otra cosa de él, y Albus quiere preguntarle, de que se trata todo eso, porque claramente no es sobre Lily ni Hosgmeade. Abre su boca, pero su voz muera al sonido de su nombre.—¿Albus?La voz tras ellos hace que ambos se separen, como si hubiesen sido atrapados haciendo algo malo. Ahí está Scorpius, con los libros de pociones de ambos entre los brazos y con sus lentes de lectura resbalándole por el puente de la nariz.Scorpius es así, cabello rubio brillante en lugares oscuros y torpeza tierna reflejada en las mangas de su suéter manchado por jugo. Lysander mira ambos antes de sonreír, le da un toque de hombro a Albus y sacude su mano.—Nos vemos luego Al.Scorpius estrecha sus ojos y espera. Albus suspira como si hubiera estado retenido el aliento dúrate todo el proceso.—Hay, ¿estás bien? — Scorpius pregunta suavemente, inclinándose un poco más, las gafas le resbalan por el puente de la nariz y Albus asiente, su mirada fija aun sobre Lysander que desaparece tras la primera intersección del pasillo. A Scorpius el ceño se le frunce —. Es extraño verte con uno de los gemelos —. Menciona, más para atraer la atención de Potter que por el hecho en sí.—Tía Luna ha estado yendo mucho a visitarnos este año, papá encontró una nueva especie de Grindylow en su última misión, tía Luna le gusta escuchar esa historia, es su nueva favorita.Scorpius asiente, como si eso fuera una lógica aceptable para Lysander invadiendo el espacio personal de Albus sin alterarlo.—Por cierto —. Comienza, estirando sus brazos para que Albus tome su parte de los libros —. ¿Ya decidiste a dónde vas ir cuando estemos en Hosgmeade?Albus toma dos pergaminos y el libro más grueso, niega con la cabeza mientras hace una mueca cuando lee cuales han sido los autores elegidos por el rubio nerd.—¿Qué tal si vamos a Honeydukes? Nunca hemos ido juntos y es algo así como muy grave porque somos mejores amigos y ese es un lugar a donde los mejores amigos van.Albus lo mira con una ceja arqueada y luego le sonríe burlonamente. Scorpius odia que haga eso.—¿Desde cuando hacemos lo que se supone?—Desde que por fin aceptaste ir a Hosgmeade para variar, recibimos nuestros permisos en tercer año, pero tú siempre vas y se lo das a James, sé que es tu hermano, pero…—No tiene nada que ver con ser hermanos, sino con los galeones extras que mis padres le dan solo porque necesita comprar un nuevo casco o guantes para jugar en el quidditch pero que de todos modos consigue de su novia en turno. Yo solo pongo armonía en el karma obteniendo ese dinero.A Scorpius se le escapa una pequeña risita, mientras comienzan a caminar por el lado contrario de las escaleras del tercer piso.—Así que lo haces por el dinero —. La voz del rubio baja, se escucha cómplice y divertida, Albus asiente seriamente, apretando los labios para no romper su propia actuación. Scorpius niega como si después de haber pasado por un gira tiempo y realidades alternas no fuera suficiente para hacerle ver cuando Albus solo está blofeando.—De todas formas, no tengo ningún tipo de plan cuando este ahí — "más que seguirte"—Claro que no lo tienes porque no hemos hablado de lo que haremos.—Pensé que pasarías la tarde con Rose —. Albus lo dice mucho antes de que su cerebro procese su propia voz sonando irónica. Scorpius se detiene y él avanza unos pasos más.—No entiendo —. Comienza Scorpius sacudiendo la cabeza como si algo importante se le hubiese escapado por enfrente y él no ha tenido tiempo de mirar lo que es. Avanza hasta estar de nuevo junto a Albus que se reacomoda los pergaminos y libro entre las manos. Ambos esperan al pie de la escalera a que termine de dar su vuelta para continuar —. No te entiendo —. Repite el rubio como si Albus no lo hubiese escuchado la primera vez —. ¿qué tiene que ver mi cita con Rose con hacer planes?—Es una cita, las citas son de dos personas —. La escalera llega, Albus es el primero en subir.—Eso lo sé, lo que no se es porque no haríamos algo tu y yo.—Vas a estar con Rose.—Aja—En una cita—Si—¿Qué voy hacer yo en medio de su cita?—Obviamente nada, porque mi cita con Rose no empieza hasta después de la comida —. Scorpius lo dice como si fuera obvio, deteniéndose en el penúltimo escalón, la escalera comiza a moverse hacia el lado izquierdo y ellos deben esperar a que dé la vuelta entera para seguir subiendo hacia el quinto piso.—No puedes hacer algo así —. Dice Albus cambiando su peso de un pie a otro—¿Ah no? Porque ya lo he hecho, no el tener citas con Rose, sino el quedar con ella después de la comida.—No sé si iré —. Albus es el primero en continuar con la segunda escalera, Scorpius apenas tienen tiempo de dar un salto y alcanzarle.—¿A qué te refieres exactamente con eso? —Scorpius hace un mohín con la nariz que a Albus siempre le ha parecido encantador pero que en ese momento se ve amenazante.—Pues que no lo he decido aun.—Ya lo habías hecho, me acabas de decir que no tenías planes, eso da por sentado que habías decido ir a Hosgmeade.—Lily también quiere ir, papá no ha firmado su permiso, así que quizás se lo dé.—Albus… —. Comienza Scorpius.—Fue lo que Lysander me ha dicho, que Lily quiere ir, y supongo que él quiere ir con ella —. Albus se encoge de hombros, los escalones terminan y el extenso pasillo de la biblioteca se abre ante ellos. Scorpius tiene las orejas rojas y las cejas juntas, está molesto.—Yo quiero ir contigo, nunca hemos ido juntos —. Scorpius dice, se queja y no hay ningún tipo de culpa en su voz que no sea acusación hacia su amigo. Albus finge no escucharla.—Ya casi cumplimos la mayoría de edad, podremos ir cuando queramos.—No será lo mismo y lo sabes.—Por favor no hagas una escena —. Albus pide, su mirada cayendo sobre chicos de tercer años que pasan junto a ellos. Scorpius da una bocana de aire como si lo dicho fuese una ofensa más que agregar a su indecisión.—No estoy haciendo una escena, tú la estás haciendo con todo esto de que no iras.—Lily es mi hermana.—Lo es, y está en quinto año, así que tendrá más paseos a los cuales ir, pero esta es nuestra última oportunidad Albus.—Lo siento.—No, no lo hagas —. Scorpius dice, bajamente, mirada en el suelo y corazón hecho puño —. Volveré a la mazamorra he olvidado mi tinta.Scorpius gira sobre sí mismo y se aleja. Albus le mira, estira su mano y se queda ahí.—Lo siento —, susurra con la voz dos octavas más bajas y los ojos picándole —, lo siento, pero no soportaría verte junto a ella.………La primera nevada llega justo cuando Rose ha dado su primer beso, no el de su vida, pero si hacia Scorpius Malfoy, para preocupación de su padre y diplomacia de su madre, ambos manejando de manera diametral su reciente afecto hacia el rubio heredero.Rose a veces se siente sofocada, no por que Scorpius le invada el espacio personal o sea especialmente hastiaste en alguna cuestión, sino por como la mira. Cuando sus ojos grises la enfocan, y parece que no hay nada más valioso en este mundo es que ella siente que el aire se le corta, porque han sido cinco años de patéticos coqueteos y de aversión alentada por Ron contra todo lo que considera malo y molesto, que ha sido difícil dejar un pensamiento lineal con el que creció.Todos dicen que es solo una etapa, que ella solo está a mitad de la adolescencia y todos hacemos alguna locura para recordar cuando estemos viejos y reírnos de nuestras propias tonterías en las que creíamos tan fielmente. La abuela incluso ha dicho, solo para Ron que ella es diferente a Albus, que tarde o temprano volverá a su camino, ella siente entonces que debe tardar lo más que pueda con sus resoluciones, solo para demostrar que en realidad no es tan buena ni perfecta.Cuando sus labios se separan de los de Scorpius siente como si hubiese atrapado la Smith, anotándose el marcador final.—¿Pasa algo? —. Scorpius pregunta, mejillas sonrojadas y ojos brillantes, ella niega, porque los besos deberían saber más a corazón acelerado y menos a victoria.—Solo pensaba acerca de mañana.Scorpius sonríe, y ella siente que no debería hacerlo por algo tan tonto como una visita a la tienda de té de mandan Tudipiè, aprieta los labios y procura no poner los ojos en blanco.—Sobre eso, sé que dijimos que nos veríamos hasta después de la comida, pero ¿No podríamos empezar un poco antes?—Imposible —. Rose dice, sin siquiera titubear, porque tiene planes con uno de los gemelos Scamander —Ya quede con Lily —. Miente. Scorpius alzas sus cejas.—Había escuchado que Lily no tenía permiso.—Ella lo tendrá, Albus se lo dará, de todos modos, él nunca lo utiliza y James ya se ha graduado así que es obvio que será para Lily.Scorpius trata de que el tono de superioridad de Rose no le moleste, pero es inevitable.—Él quiere ir a Hosgmeade —. Scorpius dice, dejándose caer hacia atrás, han estado sentados en el césped, cerca del lago, porque es sábado por la tarde y todo ha estado tranquilo, que las palabras le salen solas, Rose aprieta los labios.—No lo creo, él no es el tipo de persona que le gustan los viajes en grupo, por eso jamás va, si lo vieras en la madriguera, siempre lleva un libro, mamá esta fascinada con ello, pero yo sé que solo es una excusa para no unirse a nosotros, Louis es el único que se le acerca. A él solo le gusta llamar la atención y hacer malas cosas, papá dice que es la oveja negra de la familia.Scorpius se eleva, sus manos apoyándose sobre el suelo y sus piernas flexionándose, mira con atención a Rose que juega con un mechón de su cabello y parece divertida.—Antes, cuando aún tenía los pies sobre la tierra, Albus era mi primo favorito, y él era muy querido, todos creíamos que sería buscador como el tío Harry y que estaría con James en Gryffindor. Pero, bueno —. Se encoge de hombros como si estuviese resignada a un destino que nadie esperaba —. Él es así, extraño y desobediente.—¿Crees eso? ¿Qué él es extraño?—Claro que si, quien querría realmente estar en Slytherin por propia decisión.—Tal vez yo.Scorpius dice, levantándose del suelo y sacudiéndose los rastros de ramitas de los pantalones. De pronto Rose ya no parece tan brillante, perfecta ni inalcanzable. Si no un mal trato de expectativas guardadas por años.—Debo regresar a mi habitación.—Pero aún es temprano podemos…—Albus es mi mejor amigo y tu primo. Así que no voy a desperdiciar mi tarde de sábado escuchando mierda sobre él.—Si te vas olvídate de la cita de Hosgmeade.—Bien.—Ni que te vuelva a dirigir la palabra en mi vida.—Perfecto.—Scorpius Malfoy no te atrevas a dejarme aquí solo porque dije algo que no te gusto.—La cuestión Rose, es que ya lo estoy haciendo y no siento remordimientos.………Albus escucha como la puerta es azota. Ha pasado la tarde tirado sobre la cama, mascando regaliz de la tienda del tío Ron y con un libro que Draco le ha enviado por lechuza una semana antes de que todo se pusiera tenso entre Scorpius y él, que lo ha tratado con una amabilidad forzada pero no ha tenido el valor para alejarle.Albus siente su cabeza un poco más ligera a cada nueva mordida que le deja la garganta ardiendo y la lengua entumecida. Cierra el libro sin poner un separador y se siente sobre la cama, buscando la envoltura del dulce, porque ahora que se está mareando está preocupado de haber recibido un tipo de regaliz completamente equivocado.Un peso dejándose caer en la cama de al lado le distrae.—¿Scorp?—¿Hey Potter, lo de ser imbécil es de familia, o solo un gen que tienen y hace reacción en cadena cuando un Malfoy está cerca?—¿Qué?Scorpius, el mismo Scorpius que le había retirado la palabra, y que se limitaba a los saludos matinales, está ahí, acostado, abrazando una almohada y con el ceño sumamente fruncido. Albus sonríe, porque en realidad un rubio furioso no le parece tan atemorizante cuando se ha pasado por todo tipo de cosas como perderlo casi por completo, así que se limita por encogerse de hombros. Porque han estado 7 años juntos, sobreviviendo en un castillo lejos de casa, y con solo los brazos del otro para sostenerse cuando las cosas se han vuelto terribles y desoladoras.—¿Sabes?, a veces he pensado lo maravilloso que me sentiría solo porque Rose me diera una mirada, una sola. Sería como esa película muggle de fuegos artificiales y música de banda, mientras que mi mente canta "I Love U, Baby" obviamente sin mi voz, pero tu entiendes.Albus niega, se siente ligero y no siente parte de la cara, la voz de Scorpius suena como algodón derritiéndose contra su lengua ¿Dónde está la maldita envoltura del regaliz?—Pero no hubo ni fuegos artificiales, ni Heat Ladger cantando en el campo de futbol. Los valores se están perdiendo Al.Scorpius no menciona la decepción o la irritación de escuchar a Rose hablar cosas sobre un Albus que nadie parecía conocer. Tampoco confiesa ya no estar molesto porque seguramente le dará su pase a Lily, de hecho, ahora piensa que es genial porque él seguramente se ha quedado sin cita y tampoco ira a Hosgmeade.Albus por su parte se ha dejado caer en la cama, da una vuelta sobre su estómago y hace un movimiento con el brazo como si quisiera estirarlo, pero desiste encontrando los dedos de su mano más interesante, suelta una risita baja y después le da una mordida más a su regaliz. Scorpius chasquea la lengua.—y a ti, ¿Qué te pasa? Estoy aquí con mi corazón roto y perdonándote tu desaire de no ir conmigo a Honeydukes y tu solo te acuestas a comer regaliz. Están rompiendo todo el código de mejores amigos.—Scorpius.—Sí, porque, tu prima es una loca engreída que me engaño por años, no se debe confiar en los pelirrojos. Sabías que antes, en la edad media, les cortaban la cabeza porque se decía que eran demonios de fuego que solo traerían desgracias, estoy comenzando a sospechar que esos guarros de la santa inquisición no estaban tan equivocados sobre eso.—Scorpius…—Porque déjame decirte Albus que esa mujer no es de esta tierra, y no porque sea bonita, y con pecas, y tenga una boca que uff, sino porque parece no tener corazón cuando se trata de ti, y odio que hablen mal de ti como si supieran perfectamente lo que piensas y porque actúas así, está bien, está bien sé que es tu familia, pero joder, nunca creí que pensaría que Rose Wesley es insoportable.—Scorp…—Sabes que, deberías pasar conmigo las vacaciones de invierno, porque bueno, me he quedado sin cita y ha sido enteramente tu culpa así que compénsame, ¿tú crees que sería bueno avisar a mi padre de una vez? Ya sabes lo meticuloso que es sobre agregar un miembro más a la mesa o tener la casa impecable para un invitado y a ti tiene cariño así que…—¡Scorpius Malfoy!—¡¿Qué?!—¿Podrías callarte un minuto, por favor?—Que sepas que has arruinado un momento aquí.Albus suspira y se restriega los ojos, chupa un nuevo regaliz y trata de sentarse sobre la cama, Scorpius le observa, sus movimientos torpes y sus pupilas dilatadas.—¿Albus? Albus, ¿estás bien?—Te dije que guardaras silencio —. Albus replica con una mano sobre su cabeza, porque cree que está escuchando fuegos artificiales y que el salón se le va a salir del pecho ¿Qué está ocurriendo? Con esa valentía audaz que de pronto le pica en la piel y su lengua pesada que a la vez se siente lista para decir la peor cosa de toda su vida —. Creo que el regaliz tenia whisky de fuego —. Dice con la mirada desenfocada a falta de lentillas de contacto y alcohol destilado en su sistema. Tío George le ha enviado el regaliz equivocado.—El regaliz no tienen alcohol —. Dice Scorpius con cuidado, soltando su almohada y sentándose para ver más de cerca a su amigo.—Pues los que me encargado parece que sí. Necesito agua.—No, lo que necesitas es darme uno de esos.—No te voy a proveer de sustancias alcohólicas—Claro que lo harás, porque aún no me has pedido perdón de verdad sobre dejarme plantado en Honeydukes—Lo hice.—En tus sueños Potter —. Scorpius abandona su cama y se deja caer sobre la de Albus, Albus que esta acalorado, con la mente nublada y un ardiente deseo de dejar un par de cosas claras.— No lo hare, apártate.—No seas egoísta y dame.—Que no.—SiScorpius se deja caer sobre Albus, ambos ruedan sobre la cama, brazos revueltos y piernas enlazadas. La risa es algo que sale a borbotones de ambos, con las manos de Scorpius adentrándose a los bolsillos de la túnica y el mal humor evaporándose. Ninguno de los dos ha durado demasiado tiempo enojado con el otro, no desde que pudieron sentir que era perderlo todo.Scorpius llega a quitarle el ultimo pedazo de regaliz de la mano y grita en victoria, rueda hacia un lado para quitarse de encima y lo come de un solo bocado.Están a solo centímetros uno del otro.Albus gira su cabeza hacia la izquierda.Scorpius traga.Albus se hace bolita en el costado del rubio.Hay campanas sonando—Me gustas —Murmura Albus.Y Heat Ladger con la banda de guerra, canta.………Scorpius agita su varita, murmura entre ambos labios un hechizo que hace que las cortinas de la cama de Albus se cierren, igual que sus ojos, y que su piel se enfoque a sentir lo caliente de sus mejillas. Hay una parte en Scorpius que se pregunta qué es lo que están haciendo, así, con el cabello revueltos y sus bocas juntas.Que realmente no se siente tan diferente de sus abrazos y de compartir cama en la mansión. Albus sabe a terrones de azúcar y almíbar. Huele a chocolate caliente y se funde con sus ojos verde menta entre las sabanas.Scorpius siente que, fingir estar borracho solo por un bocado de regaliz es un poco bajo, pero también siente, que, si separa unos centímetros más de lo necesario de Albus, todo se perderá, no quiere experimentar de nuevo ser el rey Escorpión, ni estar en un mundo donde la existencia de Albus sea algo imposible.Tampoco puede simplemente desechar su amistad e ignorarlo.Porque nada de eso está bien."Desde cuando hacemos lo que se supone"La voz de Albus resuena en su cabeza, y él piensa que nunca. Nunca cumplen con las expectativas, y que han aprendido a amarse mucho antes que a necesitarse.Que Albus encaja perfectamente con su boca, en sus brazos y en su vida.Que él no es un montón de expectativasY que es de una extraña forma es perfecto.—Ire…contigoAlbus murmura, intercalando palabras entre besos. Scorpius abre sus ojos, sus manos rodeando la cintura de Potter.—¿A dónde exactamente iremos?Albus se eleva sobre el tórax de Scorpius y sonríe.—A Honeydukes.Scorpius parpadea, luego sacude la cabeza.—Eres un tramposo Potter.—Solo soy Slytherin.Y sus labios se juntan otra vez.
10703568	Imaginary Boyfriend by	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Carlos \"Cougar\" Alvarez, Jake Jensen, Jolene (The Losers), Eliot Spencer, Parker (Leverage)", "Fandom": "The Losers - All Media Types", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by cookiemom6067", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-23T00:00:00", "words": "17", "Additional Tags": "AU, Podfic, Podfic Length: 30-45 Minutes, Audio Format: Streaming, Audio Format: MP3, Audiofic Archive, archive.org", "Relationship": "Carlos \"Cougar\" Alvarez/Jake Jensen", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "Ante Up: The Losers Scramble 2017", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Stream or download from archive.org: Archived at the Audiofic Archive hereStream from the Audiofic Archive:
10732617	Frodos Perfect Day	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Frodo Baggins, Sam Gamgee, Bilbo Baggins", "Fandom": "The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Lbilover", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-26T00:00:00", "words": "1,070", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, perfect day", "Relationship": "Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "Perfect Day Fest", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	'Bilbo, can I speak to you?' Frodo asked, poking his head into the study.'Of course, my lad. Come in, come in.''It's about me and Sam,' Frodo said when he was standing beside Bilbo at his writing desk. He hesitated and then blurted out, 'We're in love and we want to get married.''Ah, so that's what all those meetings in the root cellar and back pantry were about. I had a feeling something was going on between you two and I see I was right.'Frodo regarded him doubtfully. 'You don't sound upset.''Upset? Whyever should I be? Sam is the best gardener and cook in the Shire. You've got yourself a fine catch in Sam Gamgee.''I'm sure Aunt Lobelia and Uncle Otho won't agree.''Then that's all the more reason for you to marry Sam, my dear boy.' Bilbo rubbed his hands together in glee and said, 'What fun a wedding at Bag End will be! There never has been one, you know. We'll have to plan a big celebration, Frodo. Perhaps on our Birthdays, when you come of age. Autumn is the perfect time to get married, I've always thought.''Oh Bilbo!' Frodo threw his arms around the old hobbit and hugged him. 'And here I was afraid you would object.''The only objection I'll have is if the two of you go haring off and get your own hole. There's more than enough room in Bag End for you to have all the privacy you need.'Frodo blushed but said, 'Of course we'll live in Bag End. I would never abandon you, Bilbo dear, and Sam feels exactly the same.''Excellent!' Bilbo drew a fresh sheet of parchment toward him and dipped his quill in the ink pot. 'It's never too soon to start making lists,' he said.They discussed wedding plans for a while and Bilbo took notes, and then Frodo said, 'I don't know what to do about a ring, though. I have Mother's, but I'm afraid it won't fit Sam.''A ring?' Bilbo's expression went vague and distant, the way it got when he was remembering his Adventure. 'Bilbo?' Frodo prodded when it seemed as if the reverie was not going to end anytime soon.Bilbo gave himself a little shake. 'I'm sorry, Frodo-lad. I was thinking about a ring I found on my Adventure. I didn't put anything about it in my book, because it didn't seem very important compared to Smaug and Mirkwood and the Cave Trolls and such, but perhaps you'd like to hear about it?'It seemed clear to Frodo that Bilbo wanted to tell him, so he said, 'Oh yes, please.''Well, I found the ring in Gollum's cave. Put my hand on it in the dark, completely by accident. It turned out to be quite a useful little trinket, don't you know, for when I put it on my finger, hey presto! I disappeared.''You mean it was a magic ring?' Frodo was startled by this unexpected revelation.'Yes, and although it was plain gold without any engraving or adornment, it was a pretty thing.''What happened to it? Did you lose it?''Gandalf happened,' Bilbo said, and sighed. 'When he found out about it, he told me in no uncertain terms that it was an evil ring, made with dark magic, and that I had to destroy it. So after the Battle, he asked the Lord of the Eagles to fly us to Mordor.''Mordor! But I thought that was only a legend in tall tales.''Sadly no, my lad. It's a real place, and a darker, danker, more dreary one I've never seen in my entire life. We only flew over it, of course, but that was quite close enough, thank you very much.' Bilbo shuddered reminiscently. 'I don't understand why you had to go to Mordor to destroy it. Surely there had to be an easier solution,' said Frodo, not liking to think of his dear Bilbo exposed to such a dreadful place.'Because according to Gandalf the only way truly to destroy it was to drop it in the Crack of Doom in the Mountain of Fire there, where Sauron forged it.' Bilbo sighed again. 'When it came down to it, I didn't want to harm it. It was, as I said, a pretty thing and very precious. But Gandalf muttered something about Isildur and Elrond and not repeating the past, and then he said that if I didn't throw it in the fiery pit, he'd throw me in and it with me. I don't think he was serious, but I decided that, after all, I ought to listen to him and so I did. My word, we barely got out of there before the entire mountain exploded, lava flying everywhere. Gandalf's eyebrows were singed right off and the Lord of the Eagles nearly lost his tail feathers. He wasn't best pleased, I can tell you. But we made it safely back to Dale and then I came home, and, well, here we are.'But it seemed to Frodo that Bilbo still was nostalgic for his lost treasure, so he said, 'I'm sorry you had to destroy your ring, Bilbo dear.''That's all right. It's not as if I have any need to be invisible - unless it's to hide from Otho and Lobelia,' he said, and laughed. 'But we've wandered from the topic. As for your ring, why, that's simple, Frodo-lad. The Dwarves can make it. As a matter of fact, I'm expecting a visit from Balin next month. He can help you with the design, and even make a matching ring for Sam to give you.' 'Oh Bilbo, you're a genius!' Frodo flung his arms around Bilbo again, and hugged him even harder this time.'Well, well. Well, well,' Bilbo said in a rather stifled voice. 'I want my lad to be happy. Now run along and find Samwise and give him the good news.'Frodo did, and he and Sam celebrated the good news in proper fashion. Later, they lay together in the soft green grass under the deep blue sky with a beneficent sun smiling down. 'What a perfect day!' exclaimed Frodo. 'Oh Sam, I'm so happy.' He snuggled closer against Sam's broad bare chest and added, 'By the way, you'll never believe the queer story Bilbo just told me about a ring he found on his Adventure...'
10769166	Red Circles Black Xs	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by Inell", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2008-12-16T00:00:00", "words": "4,609", "Additional Tags": "Erotica, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Heterosexual Sex, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "The Quidditch Pitch", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Today is a Black X Day. In fact, there isn’t a Red Circle Day for a solid week and a half, which doesn‘t make any sense.Ron stares at the calendar and sighs, wondering when he stopped noticing the day of the week and started categorizing everything as either a Black X or Red Circle day. It happened sometime during the last eighteen months, but he can’t remember exactly when time seemed to become this twisted agenda of red and black.It’s been worse the last four months, since Harry and Ginny’s announcement. Before that, he could occasionally distract Hermione from her lists and charts if the mood struck. While his mind might understand, in a really vague not completely clear way, his body doesn’t care what color the day is marked. He’s only twenty-six, after all, and he and Hermione haven’t even been married five years yet. Sure, they’ve been together since they were teenagers, but he doesn’t count that because marriage changed things.Of course, the fact that their marriage happened around the same time as their promotions at the Ministry probably caused a lot of those changes, but he doesn’t care about specifics. Marriage is different than living together and lying to his mum about him still living at Grimmauld with Harry. No, not lying. Just embellishing the truth in a way that placated her so she wouldn’t realize he was basically living at Hermione’s flat.With a groan, he turns away from the calendar and rubs his head. He hates thinking when there are other ways to spend his time. It’s just finally reached a time when he can’t keep putting off dealing with this. He’s let it go for a year and a half, after all. It’s not like he doesn’t want a child, too. He just wants it to happen naturally, when it’s time, and it’s obviously not time right now if they’re having to go to this much trouble. Hermione won’t listen to him, though, which is frustrating as hell.Normally, he loves her stubborn passionate nature. It’s one of the reasons he fell for her, even if it’s infuriating and hard to live with sometimes. They’ve had to work to keep their relationship solid, especially after the war when it came close to falling apart as they realized they didn’t know each other as well as they always thought. But they survived and came out stronger, and he can’t help thinking this is another time when they just need to let things happen.Hermione’s general life plan had them having a baby when she was twenty-five, though, and she’s big on her plans. He didn’t complain about her scheduling such things because he know from his own parents that you can’t really plan for stuff like that. Hermione’s an only child, so she doesn’t really get it, which he finds kind of sweet. Or did when she first mentioned that it might be time to consider a baby. Looking back, he probably should have had a good talk with her then, but having a baby meant having lots of sex. His mind had focused on that aspect and figured everything else would just take care of itself.But it didn’t. After six months of shagging a lot, she hadn’t even been late for one of her menstrual cycles, which she rarely talks about with him but that he still observes every month. He definitely would not want to be a girl, judging from the behavior changes and pain they go through each month. Six months. So terribly impatient, his Hermione, and wanting things to just work according to her plans, but life doesn’t go that way.That’s when the craziness started. The trips to the Healers, the tests to make sure his sperm count was solid (as if a Weasley wouldn’t be virile. Hmph), to make sure she was ovulating (which still sounds weird to him because eggs make him think of chickens, which make him have weird nightmares of her nesting with eggs that hatch and show little redheaded frizzy haired chickens), and to make sure nothing was medically wrong. There wasn’t. They’re in perfect working order and their bits are baby-ready.After exhausting that path, Hermione read a dozen and a half books, at least, on pregnancy and techniques. They’d experimented with sex in water, which they’d done more times than he could count prior to her focus and it had been more enjoyable those times than it was when she was stopping them to check her temperature or pulse or whatever the issue of the day happened to be. Nothing could make a man lose his erection like his beautiful wife stopping sex instead of just feeling and enjoying it. The counting got worse as there were more and more positions and ideas that the books said might work, but never did.For the last four months, it’s been Red Circles and Black Xs. A Red Day means they get to shag, while a Black Day means he’s not allowed to even get her off with his hands or mouth because she doesn’t think it’s fair if she can come and he can’t. He hasn’t been able to wank in longer than he cares to remember because she read somewhere that too much wanking might lower his sperm count, which is just nonsense, but it’s not worth arguing with her. All of it’s made him not even want to have sex. There are some days when she starts it that he’s not even sure if he can perform, which is just humiliating. Of course, Hermione never seems to notice because, if she did, she’d see what this is doing to him, doing to them. The possibility that she sees but doesn’t care is unthinkable.Since Harry told them that Ginny was pregnant, a surprise that they’d not even really wanted for another couple of years, Hermione has gone off the deep end. He loves her, loves her more than he can ever say because words aren’t his strength, but he’s so bloody tired of this. If she’d talk to him, just listen, it might help, but he tries, which is huge for him because he doesn’t usually initiate emotional discussions, and she won’t hear him. Or maybe she can’t. Or maybe he isn’t doing it right. The worst part is that he thinks that she blames herself for not being able to get pregnant, and considers herself a failure, which is stupid. Yet he doesn’t know how to get her to stop this before it destroys their marriage.It needs to stop.Or he has to at least try instead of whinging and growing to resent her.With a resolve that he hasn’t felt in years, he leaves the kitchen and walks upstairs to find Hermione. The house is quiet and too big for two people, but they moved in last year with thoughts of having a child or two in upcoming years. Now, it stands as a reminder of what they’ve been unable to accomplish. God, now he’s thinking about having a baby in similar terms as Hermione, which makes him run his fingers through his hair and tug slightly.He finds her in the sitting room. She’s lying on the sofa reading a book, and he stops in the doorway to stare at her. After all these years, just the sight of her continues to take his breath away. Her hair is loose, falling around her face as she looks down, and she’s wearing faded denims with an old T-shirt of his. Seeing her in his shirt weakens him, makes him consider quietly going back downstairs to the kitchen, but he can’t go look at that calendar again.“Hermione,” he says, grimacing when he hears how thick his voice sounds.She looks up at him, and her smile is forced. He notices the circles beneath her eyes, so thick that he doubts magic could even hide them, and the cracks on her bottom lip from where she’s bitten is too much lately. “Is everything okay?” she asks as she closes her book and focuses on him.“No, it’s not.” He’s proud that he doesn’t mumble yes and ask her what she wants for dinner, which is his first impulse when she looks at him. She frowns but he doesn’t falter as he walks towards the sofa. “It hasn’t been okay for a while.”“What are you talking about, Ron?”Her voice is snappy and impatient, which means he’s treading on dangerous ground. He knows her well enough to identify the majority of her moods and tones; it’s the only way they’ve managed to survive their relationship, he figures. They aren’t foolishly happy or living on love, always had had trouble with opinions and bickering, but they work hard at being together, which makes it better. If there weren’t trouble or fighting on occasion, it’d get pretty bloody boring.Focus, Weasley. He stops walking when he reaches the sofa and glances at the space beside her, where her legs are lying. She tilts her chin stubbornly and narrows her eyes, and he shifts awkwardly as he tries to figure out what to say. She’s already taking it badly, which might be his fault for not starting this off any better, but she makes him so nervous when it comes to talking about this stuff.“The baby stuff,” he blurts out, cringing slightly when she scowls and lets go of her book so she can wrap her arms around herself. He hates when they get like this, when nothing he says is right and she gets defensive, and they need a translator to communicate.“The baby stuff,” she repeats slowly, practically glaring at him now as she pulls her legs up against her chest. “I’m well aware that that hasn’t been okay, Ronald. If it were, we’d be kept awake all night with the cries of our child.”Ronald. Great. She’s really annoyed at him, and he hasn’t even started yet. At her reply, though, he frowns and runs his fingers through his hair. “’s not that we don’t have one yet, Hermione. It’s that our marriage is falling apart, and you’re too busy making schedules for sex that you don’t see it.”“What?” She blinks at him and looks so confused that it’s almost adorable, except for the fact that one wrong word from him will earn him a hex to bits that are already suffering enough lately.Instead of answering, he sits on the sofa beside her and bites his lip. Should he take her hand? He wants to touch her, always wants to touch her, but he’s never been in this situation before, so he’s not sure what’s allowed and what isn’t. Fuck it. He reaches for her hand and drags his thumb over the back. “I’m tired.”“You’re tired.” It’s never good when she repeats his words, no matter what the tone. “Well, that just makes everything different, doesn’t it? You’re tired, so we just, what? Give up? Consider this a huge failure on my part?”“Stop,” he interrupts before she can really get going. He tightens his grip on her hand as he shifts on the sofa so that he can face her. “You’re not a bloody failure, Hermione. So we haven’t got pregnant yet. That’s not the end of the world, you know? Our bits are all working properly, so, one day, we will have a baby. It doesn’t have to be on a schedule or make us miserable in the process.”For a moment, he thinks he just messed everything up. She’ll leave him and run off to find Krum, who’ll probably be able to give her a dozen babies in no time. Then, she sniffs and looks so hurt that he can’t worry about himself, not when she’s upset.“I want one now,” she whispers, looking down instead of at him. “I’m ready for a baby, but I didn’t realize---you’ve not said anything about being miserable.”“I’m not,” he says quickly. “Hermione, look at me. Please.”“No.”He sighs and reaches over, gripping her chin as he urges her to look up. Once he can see her eyes, he tries to smile, which isn’t that easy right now. “You never told me---I mean, I thought the baby was just because of your age. Fuck. That doesn’t sound right. You never once told me that you wanted a baby. You just said it was time, and that we needed one because it fit with our lives right now.”“Language,” she scolds before she frowns. “You thought I only wanted a baby because it fit in our schedules? And you didn’t stop to remind yourself that I’m not likely to suggest such a thing for that reason? Do you know me at all?”“I know you, Hermione. And I didn’t think you didn’t want, but it’s seemed like you were so focused on the calendar it wasn’t about anyone wanting anything. That it was more a question of what week it is than whether you were excited about a baby. But---you never talk to me about this. You’ve shut me out from the start, and it’s just got worse as we’ve kept trying. We never talk anymore, not about important stuff.”“You don’t talk, Ron. You hate talking. When I try to talk, you zone out or stammer a little before you distract me.”“Stop being so logical. We do talk, or used to, and now I can’t even stammer because you don’t try to make me talk.”She shakes her head and sighs. “I don’t know what you want. I tried to tell you that I wanted a baby, that I was ready for us to take that step, and I thought you understood. Now, you’re frustrated and blaming me for things that aren’t my responsibility. You’re part of this marriage, too, and I’ve never not listened to you or been selfish enough to not consider what you want.”“I want us to live our lives without having to be on a blasted schedule. I’m sick of red circles and black x’s, of not being able to touch you whenever I want because it’s not planned,” he says. “I know that it’s my fault, too. I should have asked or done something instead of letting it fester for all this time. I know that, Hermione. But I’m talking now. I’m talking more than I have in all our years together, so you have to know how important this is to me. It’s just got worse, since Harry’s announcement, and I don’t want to lose you because we‘re unable to have a baby right this minute.”His voice has risen since he started talking, and she’s staring at him, actually listening. Not that she doesn’t listen to him normally, but he isn’t used to saying all this emotional stuff. He’s better at showing her how he feels without messing it up with words. Still, she hasn’t hexed him yet, and they’re not really having a row. At least, not as far as he can tell.“I’m jealous,” she admits in a voice so soft that he has to strain to hear her.“Jealous?” Now he’s repeating her words, but he doesn’t care. He moves his hand from her chin to caress her cheek as he looks at her. “Why are you jealous?”“Harry and Ginny.” She smiles wryly and blinks away tears. “They didn’t even want a baby, it was just a surprise and neither of them thought they were even ready. Yet we’ve been trying for over a year, doing everything I can think of, and we’re still not having one. And I hate that I‘m so jealous of them, that I can‘t stand listening to Ginny talk about all the problems because I‘d love to be going through if it meant we‘d have a baby, that I feel so envious of our best friends.”“Oh, Hermione. You---” He doesn’t know what to say to that. While he knew she’d been wanting to try harder since Harry told them, he can’t believe that he’s been so bloody stupid. He shifts and feels guilty because he’s been so convinced that it’s her fault, that she’s been causing all the problems with the schedules and techniques, but he’s been a horrible husband. He feels like the failure now, because she’s needed him, and he’s been so interested in shagging her whenever he wants that he’s just missed so much. “Sorry.”There’s dampness on her cheeks. “For what? Being honest?”He’s made her cry, and he can’t even find words to make this better. “No. For not thinking about why you were so focused lately. I just figured it was because the schedule wasn’t being met.” He sighs and leans forward to kiss her forehead. “I love you,” he whispers against her skin. “None of this matters. If we have to shag on nights with full moons or dance naked while chanting in some language I don’t understand, we’ll do it. Okay? We’ll have a baby, and we’re going to get through this because I love you so bloody much.”She sniffs and laughs softly, which is a relief to hear after seeing the tears. “You just want us naked, Ronald,” she murmurs before she tips her head back so she can look at him. “We don’t have to. I’ve been obsessive, and I had no idea you were so frustrated. Maybe we’re just not meant to be parents yet.”“Always want you naked,” he admits with a sheepish smile before he looks at her seriously. “We can do it if you want, Hermione. There are worse things in life than calendars full of red and black, after all, though I’d rather we mostly avoid those.” He kisses her cheek and hesitates a moment to see if she pushes him away before he kisses her nose then her other cheek. “Maybe it’s not time yet, but it’ll happen.”“You’re right,” she says after a moment of pause. “It will happen one day. It doesn’t matter about schedules and planning because they’ve not helped at all, so maybe it’s time that I just let it go. We can just have faith and be patient. Of course, my lack of patience is well known, so you might have to help me with that.”“Are you sure?” He pulls back to look at her intently. His earlier resolve to end the madness of calendars has faded when faced with the reality of what she was going through, so he’s prepared to deal with no wanking and watching schedules for however long it takes.She doesn‘t answer right away, which lets him know that she‘s actually thinking about it. “I’m sure,” she finally tells him. As if to prove the sincerity of her words, she leans forward to kiss him. He isn’t expecting her to move, though, and finds himself falling back onto the sofa under the sudden weight of her pressed against him.“Oi, some warning next time.” He laughs and kisses her before she can scold him or ruin the moment. He can’t remember the last time he’s just kissed her for no reason, and a part of him still thinks she’ll suddenly pull back and remind him that it’s a Black X day, so he is relieved when she starts to return the kiss.The feel of her tongue brushing against his makes him moan and close his eyes. He doesn’t care if they’re in an awkward position on the sofa or that they’ve just had a serious emotional talk. All Ron cares about is the fact that she’s soft and warm and kissing him back for the first time in ages when their intent isn’t to get pregnant. He isn’t sure how long they spend lying there kissing and doesn’t really care.It’s like the early days, when they first started dating after the war and were living with Harry at Grimmauld Place. They spent so many hours on the sofa in the library, just being together and snogging and touching before life became more complicated. She shifts above him and her elbow hits him in the ribs, which breaks their kiss as he lets out of a groan.“Sorry,” she murmurs, smiling down at him as she moves again. “Been a few years since we’ve snogged like teenagers.”“I was just thinking that.” He grins as he brushes her hair back from her face. There are still lines at the corner of her mouth and dark circles beneath her eyes from too much stress over the last year and a half, but now he knows what’s been wrong and can help her relax again. He leans up and steals a kiss before he says, “Been too long for too many things.”He flushes faintly at the thick tone in his voice, but Hermione doesn’t seem to care that he sounds like a soppy git. “It has,” she agrees before she lies against him more fully and slowly kisses him. It’s a teasing kiss, and more hesitant than any they’ve shared since they were married. He wonders if she honestly thinks he’s going to suddenly lose his mind and not want to kiss her.Foolish girl.He wraps his arms around her and holds her closer as he deepens the kiss. When he feels her hand on his belly, he sucks in a breath and shudders. Her touch becomes more confident, as if she’s realized that they’ve done this enough times that she doesn’t have to worry or be scared, and she pushes his shirt up as they continue to kiss. Her nails drag against his skin, which finally snaps him out of his daze.It’s time to stop lying there and enjoying what she’s doing when he can make her feel this way, too. He moves his hands beneath the T-shirt she’s wearing, touching her everywhere he can reach. She is straddling his leg, which he realizes when she slowly rocks forward and presses her thigh against his hardening cock. If he were one of those blokes who thought about things, he’d wonder if they shouldn’t stop. However, he isn’t one of them at all, so he just gives himself to this spontaneous moment and follows her lead.Neither of them try to remove clothes; it’s not about that right now. Not even if he wants her naked most the time. He knows it isn’t important for this moment. This is about kissing and touching and renewing something that he’d feared was lost to goals and schedules. He reaches down to grip her arse lightly as he begins to meet her gentle grinding motion. By now, his cock has realized what’s happening and is hardening more with each kiss.Hermione sighs against his lips when she pushes down hard and must have hit the right spot. “Lean back,” he murmurs huskily, watching her face as she sits up and looks down at him. She’s so gorgeous, with her flushed face and wild hair and heaving chest. He focuses on her tits, watching them move beneath his shirt in a teasing way that just makes him touch. He slides his hands beneath the shirt and cups her tits. Her bra is soft cotton and in the way, so he shoves it up and squeezes, twisting her nipples as she gasps and moves faster.“Please,” she murmurs, though he has no idea what she’s asking him to do. He feels a moment of panic at doing the wrong thing, since she’s being bloody vague and there are a lot of things he’d like to do right now. And the fact that it’s arousing as fuck to not be able to see her tits even as he touches them doesn’t help him focus much. She looks at him expectantly and rolls her hips more.“Uh, please what?” He bucks up against her, moving to the left just enough to get more friction against his erection, and keeps groping her tits. He wants to see them but that can wait because he’s not sure he’d last at all after so long with her grinding against him and watching her tits bounce.“Ron.” She laughs then, a real laugh that makes her look relaxed and carefree, and the look on her face is one he hasn’t seen enough lately. And he helped put it there, which makes him smile proudly even as he reaches down to pinch her side lightly for her laughing at him.“No laughing at a man when he’s hard and trying to be seductive and sexy,” he warns her as he lets go of her tits and pulls his hands out from beneath the shirt. He tangles his fingers in her hair and urges her back down.“I appreciate the effort, but you don’t have to try,” she tells him as she leans forward. “I always think you’re sexy, even when you’re being a fool.”“I should be offended, shouldn’t I?” He kisses her again and arches up against her leg. When he pulls back, he grins. “Stop talking and kiss me, woman.”“Flattered, not offended.” Despite her correcting him, she actually doesn’t argue with his request. Instead, she kisses him deeply, curling her tongue around his as she gradually starts to move faster.The friction of her grinding and the fact that he hadn’t even been able to wank in days has him close already. There’s also the fact that she looks beautiful and isn’t tense and that he’s somehow lucky enough to be the one who gets to be with her, all of which have him bucking up towards her wildly not long after they stop teasing and focus.Since he knows she’s not likely to come this way, not without more specific stimulation, he moves one of his hands between them and tries to unfasten her denims. He doesn’t manage to get the zip down, and he can’t unbutton them without using both hands, which is a pain in the arse yet necessary. He finally wiggles his hand between them and her belly enough to slide down into her knickers. She’s panting now, gripping his shoulders as he rubs her clit. It doesn’t take long before she whimpers and shudders, kissing his neck as she comes.After she calms down, he grips her hips and thrusts up against her. He’s no longer worried about making sure she comes first, so he just focuses on his own release. She kisses him as he comes, catching his low grunt with her mouth. It’s been years since he came in his shorts like an inept schoolboy, but he’s not embarrassed this time. When he can breathe again, he kisses her face and holds her tight against him.It won’t be easy to deal with their mutual desire for a baby and the fact they’re not having any luck getting pregnant yet. Right now, though, they’re finally talking about it, so Ron has to believe that they’ll be able to get through this so long as they do it together. After all, he knows they can do just about anything if they work together. And this is a good start, with her snuggled against him and this feeling of peace that surrounds them. Later, once he has to get up, the first thing he plans to do is use an incendio on that bloody calendar. If he never sees another red circle or black x in his life, he’ll be happy. For now, though, he’s content to lie here holding her.End
10774404	BETTER NOW	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Robert Sugden, Aaron Dingle, Chas Dingle, Liv Flaherty, Adam Barton, Victoria Sugden", "Fandom": "Emmerdale", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by Yeleli_tilki", "chapters": "45/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-30T00:00:00", "words": "78,623", "Additional Tags": "Brain Surgery, Boys In Love, Not Cheating, Memory Loss, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con", "Relationship": "Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	CHAPTER 1:Aaron was struggling. Every time Robert went to visit, his husband looked a little thinner, a little gaunter, a little less alive. But whenever he asked if anything had happened, Aaron would shrug him off and refuse to tell him what was going on. It was driving Robert mad. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t eat. He jetted from one job to another: picking Liv up from school, working on the Mill, the scrapyard, working with Nicola… He barely had time to think during the day, to miss his husband. That was for the best. But the nights, the nights when he was meant to be sleeping, he’d lie awake missing the familiar weight pressing down on the mattress next to him. He couldn’t sleep. Not a wink. And then it’d be morning again and he’d be off. He had breakfast to make, little sister-in-laws to convince to go to class, mother-in-laws to help lift and transport huge kegs of beer for. It took a toll. Of course it did. He was tired all the time, the circles under his eyes now etched so deeply they looked like bruises. He got eyebrows raised at him every once in a while, heard people ask each other under their breath if he’d gotten into a fight. He also lost weight. A lot of weight. All of his clothes now hung off his body oddly. This too attracted stares, but he didn’t care. Everything would go back to normal once Aaron was home. He began to have trouble focusing, at work, at home. He couldn’t keep his attention on any one thing for longer than a few minutes. But that was to be expected. The brain wasn’t meant to function without sleep. “Robert?” Liv’s annoyed voice jerked Robert back to the present moment.He forced his eyes to focus on the haughty girl standing in front of him, glaring at him. Had she been talking to him? He hadn’t even noticed. “Sorry, Liv. I checked out for a minute there.” He said to her apologetically.She shook her head, her jaw set stiffly. “You know what, never mind. I’ll do it myself.” Robert reached out a hand and caught her arm. “Liv, wait, I’m sorry. What did you need?” She turned back to him slowly, taking in now just how tired he looked, hearing the exhaustion in his voice. “It’s fine, really.” She said, her voice quieter. “I can handle it.”Robert tilted his head, hearing the change in her tone. “Liv,” he responded, his brows knitting together, “ask me. It’s what I’m here for.”She peeked at him. “It’s just this project for school… I was gonna ask for your help.”“Of course I’ll help.” Robert told her. And he did. He managed to keep the fog from settling over his brain long enough to help her. And then he was stumbling up to his and Aaron’s room, wobbling with tiredness. He fell onto the mattress and lay with his eyes closed, praying for sleep to claim him. * * * It was morning. His alarm woke him up for the first time in what felt like weeks. He opened his eyes and then snapped them shut again, cringing away from the light shining in through the window. He opened his eyes again, carefully, and squinted around the room. His head throbbed as the light dilated his pupils. And then it kept throbbing. All day.Nicola raised an eyebrow at him when he walked into the office wearing sunglasses. “Migraine.” He grumbled in her direction, before heading to his desk.At least that’s what he thought it was. When he’d typed light sensitivity and headache into a search engine, that’s what it spit out. He didn’t get migraines. He didn’t used to.They became a common occurrence after that, though. A few hours before onset, the view out of his right eye would go blurry. And then the pain would start building behind that same eye. It would build and build until there was a steady, agonizing pounding, like a base drum in his head. Boom. Boom. Boom. Sometimes it would be so bad, he’d get sick. Other times, he’d have to lower himself to the floor and wait out an especially bad dizzy spell. But eventually they would pass, or at least the worst parts would pass, and he could get on with his day.He felt one coming on as he trudged into the Woolpack one afternoon. His feet were dragging, his steps clumsy, as he walked towards the back, not even acknowledging Chas. He didn’t have it in him to lift his head right now, to focus his eyes long enough to make eye contact, to handle the boisterous atmosphere of the crowded pub. It was too loud. It was too bright. He shoved his way through the door, ambling down the hallway towards the stairs. The lights were on. All of them. What was Chas trying to do? Their electricity bill was going to be massive. It was too damn bright. He reached to turn off the switch, missing completely and falling into the wall as he lost his balance. He squinted around him, nausea rolling over him as the light of the room seemed to grow brighter and brighter. He held his hands over his eyes, trying to block it out, and sank down so he was sitting on the floor. He listened to the pounding inside his head and breathed deeply, attempting to combat the nausea.After a while, he realized it wasn’t going to get better anytime soon. He needed to get up to his and Aaron’s room. He didn’t want Chas or Liv walking in and finding him curled up in the hallway. They would worry. They’d tell Aaron he wasn’t doing well. Aaron had enough to deal with.So he crawled, crawled all the way to the bottom of the stairs, his eyes slits, his head held as steady as possible, with every small movement increasing the tempo of the beat pounding inside his skull. He pulled himself slowly up, hanging onto the railing for dear life, using it to drag himself up the stairs. He made it all the way to his and Aaron’s room before he blacked out. He woke up a few hours later and wondered why he was on the floor. He put a hand to his head and pulled it away wet with blood. He grabbed one of his shirts laying on the floor and held it up to the gash there. It didn’t seem like a bad head wound. He’d need stitches though.He sighed when he realized he’d have to wake up Chas. No way could he drive like this. He swayed as he moved down the hallway towards Chas’s room, light-headed from the blood loss. He knocked on her door.“Chas?” His voice was unexpectedly weak. He tried again, increasing in volume. “Chas?” He heard a sudden scuffle of feet as more than one person began to move agitatedly around Chas’s room, bumping into furniture and collecting discarded articles of clothing off the floor. He heard a muttering coming from inside in a voice that sounded a lot like—Paddy opened the door with a huff, mid-complaint before he caught sight of the bloody T shirt Robert was holding to his head. “It’s the middle of the damn night, Robert. What the hell do ya think you’re—.” His eyes widened and his words cut off.“I need a ride to the ER.” He said in explanation, gesturing unnecessarily up at his head. Chas appeared beside Paddy, her brow furrowed with worry. “What happened?” She asked, moving forward and carefully lifting the T shirt so she could get a look at the wound.Robert shrugged, avoiding the question with vaguery. “Fell. Hit my head.”Chas looked at him, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes, noticing the way he wasn’t meeting her or Paddy’s eyes. He was hiding something. Chas had grown strangely fond of Robert, despite their extremely rocky start. Well, she’d grown fond of the way he was with her son. Because no one could deny, not Liv, not her, not even Paddy, that Robert made Aaron happy, happier than anyone or anything had ever made him before. But she also knew that Robert Sugden had a side to him that she didn’t like, that she could never trust. He was hiding something and, whatever it was, she was pretty sure it wasn’t good. She was pretty sure that it was something that would hurt her son. And that meant that she couldn’t just leave it alone and let things play out. She’d have to do some digging, figure out what exactly Robert Sugden was trying to hide.But, for now, she pushed the suspicions and doubts to the back of her mind and lead Robert outside to her car. “Paddy, stay and make sure Liv has something to eat before school, won’t you love?” Paddy stammered in his usual way, not managing to output coherent speech before they’d both closed their car doors and started driving away. * * “Well?” Chas inquired demandingly. They’d barely been driving a minute before she started digging. “Well… what?” Robert asked weakly, his concentration scattered. He didn’t have to energy to put on a good lie right now, let alone the circulation.“What really happened? How’d you really get that?” Chas gestured to his head wound. Her eyes flickered to his face, gauging his reaction, before returning to he road.Robert sighed. He didn’t have the strength of mind to do anything other then tell the truth, but maybe he’d leave out the chronic part and say he’d just had one migraine. Today. That didn’t sound too worrisome. Chas wouldn’t feel the need to bother Aaron with something so minor, right?“I had a bad headache all day. It got worse when I got back home and I had some kind of dizzy spell. I must have passed out and, when I woke up, my head was split open.” He shrugged. “That’s what happened.” And it was. Exactly. There were just no superfluous details included…Chas’s brows knitted together, her eyes flickering between his face and the road. “Robert, that’s not normal. Why didn’t you say something?”He shook his head, stopping when it made him dizzy. “I’m fine.” She looked unconvinced so he continued. “I haven’t been sleeping well, you know, with Aaron gone. I’ll be just fine once we get him out of that place.”Chas pulled into the hospital parking lot in silence and then turned to look at her son-in-law. He didn’t look alright. Not at all. He was too thin, too exhausted, too pale. How had she not noticed him deteriorating before her eyes? Was he really like this because he was worried about Aaron, because he was missing him? She still had a nagging feeling he was hiding something and it made her want to continue to pry, but her son-in-law, honestly, didn’t look like he could remain conscious much longer.She shook herself and got out of the car, going around to the other side to help Robert out of his seat and into the hospital. He was unsteady on his feet. She supported his weight as best she could, her worry growing as she realized what he’d said. He’d passed out and hit his head and woken up hours later, which meant he’d been bleeding from his head wound that entire time. She quickened her pace, calling out for help as soon as she got close enough to a group of nurses for them to hear her. The nurses reacted very quickly and professionally and Robert was being wheeled away in a wheel chair, one nurse already shining a light in his eyes and examining the gash on his head, before Chas knew it. She watched him disappear behind a corner and wondered if she should have gone with him. Too late now. She fell into a chair in the waiting room and prepared for a long wait. * * The doctor that showed up to examine him made quick work of the gash in his forehead, numbing the area and stitching him up cleanly. It was after, when he was getting more lights shined in his eyes, when he was getting asked questions about how he’d hit his head, that the doctor started to frown. “I’d like you to get a CT scan before you leave to make sure there isn’t any bleeding—“Robert shook his head. “That’s not necessary. I’m fine.” He said, standing up and moving towards the door. “Thank you for your help, doctor.”The doctor’s frown deepened, but she accepted the refusal with a nod and handed Robert a sheet of paper discussing concussion symptoms and signs. “Read through this. If you start to notice any symptoms, come back in. No sleeping for the next twelve hours either.”Robert nodded and accepted the paper, heading out of the exam room and signing himself out at the desk. Chas walked over from where she’d been seated in the waiting room. “Is everything alright, then?”Robert smiled tiredly. “Everything’s fine. Clean bill of health.” He headed towards the door and she followed behind, unable to shake the feeling that he’d just lied to her.Robert walked ahead of Chas, not wanting her to get a look at his face at the moment. He wasn’t firing on all cylinders after the night he’d had and he couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t realize he was avoiding the subject and start asking him for details if she watched him too closely. Somehow, he felt like he’d be in trouble if she found out the doctor had wanted to do a CT and he’d said no. But he just… wasn’t up for it. He couldn’t handle more bad news right now, couldn’t handle finding out something was wrong when Aaron was still stuck in prison and he had so many damn responsibilities. But he wasn’t stupid. He knew at this point that, yes, there was something wrong. The migraines. The fainting. Stress and heartache could only do so much damage. Even lack of sleep didn’t explain all of his symptoms. Something wasn’t right inside his head, but he could deal with it later, once Aaron was back, once his support system was back in place. He just had to make it until Aaron came home.END of CHAPTER 1 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 2Aaron was using. Liv had come clean, told him what was going on, and now he was sitting in front of his husband, asking him to stop, asking him not to do anything to compromise his appeal. “Aaron, Liv needs ya. I need ya. Please, you have to stop.”But Aaron didn’t care about that. Robert was useless to him there. Their future together was something he couldn’t even picture anymore. The only thing on his mind was surviving, surviving that place, one day at a time, and he needed the drugs to do that.The younger man was so out of it, drugged into numbness, with only bitterness as a guide for the words he said. The entire time they spoke, Aaron barely looked at him, didn’t even notice the puckered pink line now running along his hairline. He didn’t even have to use the story he’d come up with to explain how he’d been injured because his husband never even asked.When Aaron walked out of the visitation room, Robert remembered sitting there, his mind going hazy. And then one of the prison guards was tapping him on the shoulder and telling him the hour for visitation was over. Aaron hadn’t come back.He left the prison, ambling over to his car, feeling strangely disconnected from his body. Was it all over then? Had Aaron just… had Aaron just broken up with him? He sat in his car, staring out the windshield for over an hour. His head started to hurt, the light shining in his eyes becoming uncomfortable. He sighed and his body went into autopilot as he drove home. As he pulled up outside the Woolpack, he changed his mind about going in and, instead, pulled back out onto the road and drove to the mill. He wanted to be alone, alone with his pain and his jumbled thoughts, alone with a bottle of something strong. That’s the last thing he remembered thinking. After that, his memory went blank. * * Rebecca was there, lying next to him, when he woke up the next morning. He looked down at himself. Shit. Had he slept with her? He had, hadn’t he? He put a hand to his head, covering his eyes. Oh no. “Morning.” Rebecca purred, rolling towards him and placing a hand on his chest. He felt tears prick at his eyes as he sat up quickly and moved around the room, collecting his clothing and dressing in a hurry. He heard Rebecca sit up and felt her eyes on his back. “Where are you going, Robert?” He didn’t look at her, continuing to hunt for his clothing. He noticed an empty liquor bottle tipped over by the wall. Shit. He must have gotten drunk, so drunk that he thought it was a good idea to invite Rebecca over and… He closed his eyes against the thought. He wouldn’t do that to Aaron. He wouldn’t. He’d promised.He stooped to pull his shoes on and felt Rebecca come up behind him. “Robert?” Her voice was half stern, half sad now. “Why are you—?”He brushed her hand away, turning towards her, his eyes averted. “Look, Bex… I don’t know what happened last night… I mean, I can guess, but… it shouldn’t have happened. I was upset. I wasn’t thinking straight—“Her eyes hardened and she slapped him across the face. Lights danced before his eyes. “I knew it.” She said bitterly. “I knew, deep down, that you were just using me. I should’ve trusted my gut.” She shook her head, her eyes glassy with tears. “I expect you’ll want me to keep this a secret from Aaron, right? You’re going to just go running back to him aren’t ya?”Robert kept his eyes averted. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. And he was. She was his friend, his only friend, and he’d used her feelings for him against her, used her to self-destruct. He finished dressing as Rebecca strode out of the room, her clothes in her arms. He sat there, hearing her move about the house angrily. His head fell into his hands. Another migraine was coming on. Fast. He slid down to the floor, lowering himself gently, and letting his head loll back against the side of the bed. The room grew brighter. Dammit. He closed his eyes and prepared to wait it out. And then there was another time jump, his memories blanked out, erased.And, suddenly, Chas was yelling in his face, screaming at him, calling him every horrible name she could think of. He was backed against a wall in the entryway of the mill, his hands raised in surrender. She must have found out about him and Rebecca. What else could have made her so angry? He tuned into what she was yelling. “You cheating, lying son of a bitch—“His head went fuzzy and her voice cut out once more. He lowered his head and let her scream herself hoarse. And then she was telling him to pack his things, that he was done, that he was going to visit Aaron, today, and tell him what he’d done. He nodded meekly. What could he say? She was right. He’d fucked up. He just didn’t remember.They arrived at the prison, seating themselves next to each other in the visitation room. Aaron walked in soon after, his eyes scanning the room, settling on Robert, and filling with tears. He sat down across from them, gaze trained on Robert. He looked even worse than he had the day before, rings under his eyes, his clothes too big on him, red splotches on his cheeks from crying. “Robert.” He said pleadingly. “I’m so sorry.” Robert didn’t look at him. Tears threatened to leak from his eyes as he responded miserably. “Not as sorry as I am.” Chas stared disbelievingly at her son. He was a mess. She glanced at Robert. He was preparing to confess, right here, right now. And she had to stop him. Aaron couldn’t handle losing Robert while he was still in here. She could see it in his face. He was barely hanging on. She cut across Robert, who’d just opened his mouth to speak, making something up, something to take the place of the truth, something about Robert going on a rampage at the Mill and breaking the furniture. Aaron seemed to buy it, with only a small crease remaining between his brows as he watched them leave. Robert walked with his eyes on the ground. She could tell he felt guilty, but, at this point, that wasn’t good enough. She’d known he was hiding something the other day. She’d known. She should have realized right away what it was. Of course he was having an affair. He was Robert flamin’ Sugden. The story he’d told her about how he’d hurt his head was probably a lie. She’d been stupid enough to trust him with her son’s heart, even after everything he’d done, and now everything was blowing up in her face, in her son’s face. She wouldn’t let him get away with it. She wouldn’t let him hurt her son anymore. “You’re telling him, as soon as he gets out, you’re telling him the truth. If you don’t, I will.” She said, striding away from him more quickly, leaving him trailing morosely behind her. She got to the car and slid into the driver’s seat, a wicked thought occurring to her as she did. She started the engine and pulled out of the parking space, rolling down her window and yelling to a surprised Robert, “Find your own ride. And don’t even think about going back to the mill or the pub. You lost that privilege.” She drove off, a tight smile on her face. Son of a bitch deserved it.Robert watched as Chas drove off, leaving him stranded in the prison parking lot. He didn’t feel right. The entire visit with Aaron was horrible. He’d had to lie; that was what was best for Aaron. His husband would do something stupid if he told him the truth about Rebecca right now. He’d wreck his chances for an appeal. But the lie, even more than the cheating, felt like a betrayal. He didn’t remember cheating. He couldn’t deny he’d done it, but he didn’t remember. But this… he’d consciously decided to lie to his husband. It made his insides squirm with discomfort. His vision was getting spotty again and he swayed on his feet. This was not a good time to be stranded in the middle of nowhere. He sat down on the curb, not wanting to fall and earn himself another head wound. The pulsating started behind his right eye, signaling yet another migraine coming on. They were getting more frequent and more incapacitating every day. He needed to go back and see the doctor. It had been stupid to put it off. He couldn’t be functional the way he was now. He reached into his jacket pocket for his phone. It wasn’t there. He’d left it on his bedside table in his rush to dress that morning, along with his wallet. His head was pounding now, his vision deteriorating as he sat there. Oh no. And then he was slumping over, his eyes closing as he lost consciousness.END of CHAPTER 2 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 3Robert woke up to the beeping of monitors, the light of the hospital room shining too bright in his eyes. A nurse noticed he was awake almost immediately and called out for the doctor, who came in from the hallway with a frown on her face. It was the same doctor who’d stitched up his head wound just days before.“How’s your head feeling, Robert?” She asked, peering down at his chart. He shrugged in answer. His head always seemed to be hurting a little, lately, but he supposed it wasn’t that bad in comparison to the pain he’d felt earlier when he’d passed out. “This is the second time you’ve been brought in after passing out due to an, as of yet, undiagnosed cause. I’m afraid I’ll have to insist we do a CT scan this time.”Robert nodded, not stupid enough to ignore medical advice a second time. It took a few hours for the tests to be performed. Apparently there was a huge waiting list for the CT machine that morning. By the time the doctor returned, it was late afternoon and he was getting antsy. He had things to do, his responsibilities weighing on his mind more and more every second. Chas might be done with him, but he’d told Aaron he’d keep everything from falling apart until he got back, that when he got out of prison, all the important things in his life would still be there waiting for him. He realized Aaron would want nothing to do with him once he found out he’d cheated, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still need to do the things he’d promised Aaron he would do, to take care of the things he’d promised Aaron he would take care of. “Mr. Sugden?” The doctor asked, looking concerned. “Just now, did you hear what I told you?”Robert lifted his gaze to meet hers. “No, sorry, I… lost focus for a second. What did you say?”The doctor’s brows pulled together. “Your scans revealed several abnormal masses in your brain… brain tumors. From the worsening of symptoms you’ve described, they’re most likely growing in size and increasing the pressure inside your skull.” Robert closed his eyes and let out a strange noise, a chuckle devoid of humor. Of course he had a fucking brain tumor. Of course. Or was it several? Fan-friggin-tastic. The doctor continued, the look on her face nothing but sympathetic. “I have to recommend that we operate as soon as possible. You’re already experiencing severe migraines and fainting spells, which means your symptoms have progressed past where we would have originally diagnosed this kind of condition. In addition, the sooner we can biopsy the tumors and find out if they’re malignant, the sooner we can determine what kind of treatment plan we’ll need going forward. We really shouldn’t wait, Mr. Sugden.” Robert lowered his head, and spoke in a sad voice. “I need to talk to my husband.” * * The doctor had protested against Robert leaving the hospital, reminding him he could suffer another fainting spell at any time, that the pressure pushing down on his brain would continue to increase and make his symptoms worse. But he needed to tell Aaron what was going on. And, he supposed, he also needed to tell Vic. They both deserved to know, being the only people in the world that loved him. His eyelids drooped and it was a struggle to stay awake, but he knew he couldn’t wait. He had to get the words out today. He was almost out of time. His phone rang, the name of Aaron’s barrister showing on the screen. An appeal. Aaron was getting an appeal. It was soon, too, soon enough that maybe he could wait to tell Aaron about his diagnosis until after he was free. That would be better for Aaron, wouldn’t it? His husband just needed to survive in that place a few more days and then he’d be out. And then Robert could tell him, everything. Maybe he’d understand; maybe he’d forgive him. It’d be selfish to tell him now, to upset him and potentially mess up his chances at an appeal. It’d be selfish, right? Robert rubbed a hand over his face. He just had to hang on for a couple days, that was all. * * * Robert sat in the back of the courtroom, his heart beating like mad in his chest. Aaron was free. The decision had just been made.The time to come clean was fast approaching. He felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. As Aaron stood up, a half-disbelieving smile on his face, he turned to find Robert’s face in the crowd of his loved ones. Robert could feel the wetness welling up in his eyes. Aaron moved towards him and they embraced each other, blocking out everyone and everything else in the room for just a moment. And then Aaron was being pulled in a thousand different directions, all the Dingles scrambling to congratulate him. Robert felt himself get shunted over to the side. He didn’t mind, though. It made him happy to see Aaron be so loved by everyone around him. It gave him the comforting realization that, even if he couldn’t always be there for Aaron, there were plenty of other people that would be. At least he could be sure of that.They all moved as a cheering mob out of the courthouse and then made their ways to their respective cars. Aaron said the last of his temporary goodbyes and then followed after Robert towards the car. Robert could feel Chas staring daggers into the back of his head as they walked together. They didn’t speak, just loaded themselves into the car and sat next to each other in silence for a moment, reveling in the privacy they hadn’t had for months. Aaron spoke before Robert could even open his mouth. “It’s finally over.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t believe it’s finally over. I really get to go back home.” Aaron looked at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t think that would happen.” There was an apology in his voice, an apology for the nightmare of a visit that had thrown their lives into disarray. Robert couldn’t stand it. He looked down, ashamed, at his hands. “Aaron… we have,” he sighed sadly, “we have a lot we need to talk about.” He raised his gaze to meet Aaron’s. “But first, you have a welcome home party to get to, so let’s just put the heavy stuff off for just a bit longer, yeah?” Aaron’s brow was furrowed with worry, now, but he swallowed down the ominous feeling riling his stomach and nodded. “After.” He said, confirming, his eyes remaining on Robert’s face as his husband focused on driving them to the pub.It was a true Dingle party and Aaron was kept busy by his family for the entire thing. Robert spent most of his time avoiding Chas’s accusing stare and chatting with Liv. It didn’t take Robert long to notice Liv’s awkwardness around Aaron. She had trouble meeting her brother’s eyes and she seemed unsure about whether he wanted her there. Robert guessed the cause easily. She’d told him about Aaron using and now she felt like she’d betrayed her brother’s trust, like she’d been the cause of their fight in the visitation room. Robert set about dissipating her insecurities immediately. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was manipulate people’s feelings. For once, maybe some good could come out of that. He had her laughing and dripping sarcasm like her usual self by the end of the party. She smiled at him gratefully as the last of the Dingles filed out of the pub and got up to go give Aaron a proper hug. He looked surprised, at first, at her show of affection and then he looked happy, so happy, as he hugged her back tightly.Chas walked over to where Robert was sitting and smiling at the brother-sister bonding happening in front of him, and purposefully blocked his view. He looked up at her, flinching slightly at the hatred in her eyes. “You’ll tell him tonight. I won’t have you swanning around like the doting husband for any longer. I want you out.” She spat the last part, her expression stiff, like just looking at his face long enough to issue her warning was a chore. Robert nodded mutely, his eyes sad. He couldn’t help but be hurt by this sudden return to the way things used to be. Chas hated him again. It almost felt like all the progress he’d made, all the personal growth, was for nothing. He was back to square one where she was concerned. There was also a small ache in his chest, a feeling of loss. It may have only been for a short while, but Chas had become a part of his family, had been included in Robert’s very short list of people he could call if he ever needed help. She’d driven him to the hospital when he’d hit his head… and that had meant quite a bit. There just weren’t that many people who would do something like that for him. And now there was one less.* * * By the time Aaron, Liv, and Robert finally made their way outside together, it was quite late and they were all tired. Robert drove them home in silence. Aaron watched his face, waiting for the heavy stuff, not having been distracted for one moment from the fact that Robert had said they needed to talk. The entire party his insides had been squirming with discomfort. Robert didn’t say things like that to him unless there was something serious, something really serious, that needed to be discussed. Aaron wasn’t an idiot. He knew this was going to hurt, that whatever Robert had to tell him was going to hurt like hell. But the longer he looked at Robert, the more he realized his husband didn’t look like himself. He’d noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the way he’d seemed paler than usual, during their visits. He’d known Robert was struggling without him there, trying to take care of both of their responsibilities all by himself. But this was different. Robert looked unwell, a small, unfamiliar crease between his eyebrows, like he was fighting a headache, a strange glassiness to his eyes, like it was an effort to keep them open in the glare of streetlights. Was this stress? Was whatever Robert had to tell him having this much of a physical impact on his husband?Robert pulled up by the Mill. Aaron half carried a tired Liv up to her room, where she collapsed still dressed into her bed. Then he climbed back down the stairs, hesitating on every single step, knowing he was drawing closer and closer to a conversation he didn’t want to have. Robert sat on the sofa, absentmindedly massaging his temple. He looked up, squinting slightly, as Aaron came back into the room. Aaron swallowed. “Babe, do you have a headache? You want to take something for it?” He frowned as Robert snorted humorlessly in response, shaking his head in dismissal.Robert sighed, then, and looked unhappily into Aaron’s face. “I’ve got to come clean about something. I need you to listen all the way to the end because it’s… complicated. Promise you’ll hear me out, before you decide… what to do.”Aaron’s frown deepened, but he nodded and whispered. “Okay.” And then Robert said the words, sort of blurted them out without any warning. He didn’t mean to do it like that, but his head was starting to get fuzzy and he could tell he didn’t have much time before he had another episode. It was now or never. “I slept with Rebecca.”END of CHAPTER 3 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 4“I slept with Rebecca.”There was a long silence. Aaron’s mouth dropped open and he stared. And then it all came tumbling out. “After that visit at the prison, I was so upset… I drove back to the Mill… got drunk.” He watched Aaron’s eyes flash as the anger built up inside him. He spoke faster. “I must have asked her to come over, but I don’t remember…” He took a hitched deep breath and then: “Because… I blacked out, before the drinking, before I even got back to the Mill. I’ve… been sick for a while now. I’ve been getting migraines, really bad migraines. I didn’t want to worry you while you were inside. But, Aaron, that’s why I don’t remember. I know I did a horrible thing, but I wasn’t… I really wasn’t myself… I mean, I wasn’t… please see that I would never… if I’d been in my right mind, I would never have betrayed you like that. I’m so sorry.” At least, that’s what Robert would have said, had Aaron’s fist not smashed into his jaw and sent him careening into the coffee table. The impact sent shards of pain stabbing at his already aching brain and he felt a dull throbbing begin to pulse like a second heartbeat from the gash the sharp corner had opened up in his harm. He applied pressure to the wound on instinct, hissing at the pain. His vision wavered, but he managed to get a glimpse of Aaron’s expression. He was livid, his eyes a harsh, unyielding black. “Please, Aaron, please listen to the rest.” He stammered, his consciousness flickering. Aaron was shaking his head, his jaw set, his mind shut. “I’ve heard enough.” He spat. “There is nothing you could say that would make you cheating on me okay, Robert. Nothing.” He turned his back on Robert now. “I want you out. I want you out now.” And then he was walking away, walking, walking, walking away. Robert struggled to get up, his balance betraying him so that he ended up back on the floor again within seconds. “Aaron, wait.” But Aaron didn’t wait. He didn’t look back. He kept walking. Robert slumped back against the couch base, lightheaded. He felt the blood dripping down his arm. He needed a hospital. Aaron had left him, had left him bleeding on the floor. He needed to get up and get himself to a hospital. He needed to now or he would bleed out on their living room floor. Could he drive himself like this? He’d have to. There wasn’t time for anything else.Somehow he pulled himself to his feet, and ambled woozily down the hall towards the front door. His thoughts swirled incoherently around his muddy puddle of a brain. All he could focus on was the task right before his eyes, the obstacles in the way of his only goal: survive long enough to talk to Aaron again, to tell him the rest. Open the door. Walk to the car. Get in. Pull out of the driveway. Turn. Turn. Stop. Turn. Follow the road. Just follow the road. He had to fight his drooping eyelids the whole way and he had to struggle to grip the steering wheel, slick with his blood, but he made it. He made it to the hospital, where he was immediately patched up by a nurse. Only after the immediate threat of exsanguination was banished, did the looming threat on the horizon come back into focus.The adrenaline from the fight with Aaron had kept the impending migraine at bay long enough for him to reach his destination, but then it had hit him like a thunderclap and his head felt like it might explode from the pain. The room spun and bouts of nausea had him curling in on himself, trying desperately to retain the contents of his stomach. Hours later, he lay exhausted in a hospital bed, squinting through pained eyes at his doctor as she spoke to him about his rapidly worsening symptoms, about how his getting worse meant the tumors in his brain were growing.He was out of time.She was throwing around phrases like ‘permanent brain damage’ and she was insistent, almost frantically so, that he couldn’t put if off any longer, that, if he did, his next migraine might be his last. He wasn’t sure what to do. Should he have the surgery? How could he go through with it without telling his husband? He had to find a way to tell him before, to give Aaron a chance to… what? To say goodbye? Because that was the reality here, wasn’t it? There might not be an after. He might not make it through. And if that happened… what would happen to Aaron?He couldn’t wait; he understood that. He told the doctor he’d do the surgery. And then he got to work, making the calls he needed to make to get his affairs in order, to make sure Aaron and Liv and Vic would be supported , at least monetarily, in his absence. And then he called Aaron.He didn’t expect an answer, so he wasn’t disappointed when it went straight to voicemail. He wanted to give Aaron a chance to be there, if he wanted, but, more than that, he needed to say the words that would let Aaron move on with his life if he didn’t survive, the words that would let Aaron be happy in his absence.“Aaron… I know you don’t want to hear from me right now and I would give you more time to process everything if I could… but I don’t have any more time to give. I… I was diagnosed with multiple brain tumors a couple weeks ago. The doctor… she says I have to have the surgery now, that I can’t wait any longer.” He paused. “If you get this message in the next hour, please, I’d like to see you before… I’d like to hear your voice. I realize, though, that that probably isn’t going to happen. So, just in case I don’t get another chance, there are a few things… I need to say.” He cleared his throat, emotional. “I love you. I love you so much. I know I screwed everything up, but I wanted you to know that it wasn’t because you weren’t enough… because you were. You’re amazing, Aaron. I’m so lucky to have had you in my life… to have been loved by you. And, even if this is all the time I get with you, if my time’s up now… I’m grateful.” A rogue tear rolled down Robert’s cheek. “I wish you nothing but happiness, nothing but love. You deserve to get everything you ever wanted. So be happy, alright?” He swallowed, closing his eyes, and whispered the last sad words. “Goodbye.” END of CHAPTER 4 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 5Aaron was laying, curled up in the fetal position, in his and Robert's bed. He wanted to move, burn the sheets, burn the bed, burn the room. He wanted to, but he kept getting stuck when he tried, stuck at the thought that, if he did, if he burned it all down, that'd be it. There would be no recovering from this for them. It was up to him to forgive or not to forgive Robert for this. Forgiveness seemed impossible. But living a life without Robert... that seemed even more impossible. And the more he realized that, the more stuck he felt.How could Robert put him in this position? How could he do this, break their vows, and then sit there and ask for understanding, ask for Aaron to stay there and listen to the whole story? What would that accomplish? He'd cheated. Again. With her. What else was there to consider? It was after the visit, the visit Aaron remembered through a druggy haze. He'd been cruel. He'd given up, told Robert he was useless, that their future wasn't enough of a reason to stay clean. He rubbed a hand roughly over his face. But he'd been in a bad place when he said that; he'd been desperate to ease the pain of the beatings he was enduring, desperate to survive. Could he really be held responsible for what he'd said and done when he wasn't himself? No, he didn't think so. That's why it was so easy for Robert to forgive him. Robert didn't have an excuse. He was just a cheat, a cheat and a liar.Aaron pushed himself into a sitting position, his brow furrowing as he remembered back to the tense car ride on the way home. No wonder Robert looked so worn out. Destroying not one, but two marriages takes a lot out of a person. The vicious thought cut across his mind sharply and his face settled into a cold mask. He couldn't forgive this. He couldn't. A ding on his cell phone alerted him of an incoming call. He frowned, knowing exactly who it would be, and stared at the screen. Husband calling, it said. He threw the phone across the room so that it clattered loudly against the bedroom wall. How dare he call so soon after. How dare he call him. Selfish prick. * * Robert made one more call after Aaron. He called Vic, intending to tell her, to finally tell her, that he was sick. But when she answered, he found himself unable to say it.Was he a coward? Yes. Yes he was. He didn't want to make his little sister cry. He didn't want to make her worry. He didn't want the last sound he heard to be Vic in tears. At first, he just listened to her speak, enjoying her cheerful rambling. And then his chest tightened with emotion and he wanted, more than anything, to know she'd stick by him, no matter how bad he'd screwed up, no matter what he'd done. So he confessed, about the cheating, about his massive row with Aaron. But unconditional love and support is not what he received from his little sister, not this time. He was met with a cold, disappointed silence from her end of the line. "Vic?" He'd asked, his voice trembling slightly. "How could you?" She'd asked him. He felt his mouth go dry at the disgust her tone conveyed. "How could you do that to Aaron? After everything you've been through together... You just got married. It hasn't even been..." Her words trailed off. "You don't deserve him after this, Robert. You know that, don't you? If you can't be faithful to him, to anyone, you need to stop making promises, stop making vows you can't keep. It's not right. It's not fair to the people you say you care about."Robert had closed his eyes at her words, feeling like a knife was twisting in his gut. It was still confusing as hell to him. Was he responsible for his actions? If he didn't remember, if he wasn't in the driver's seat of his own body, did it count? He wasn't sure. And that's why Vic's words, though she spoke them knowing only part of the story, still hurt like hell, still made his stomach roil with guilt and shame. "You might be right, Vic." He answered in a choked whisper. There was another pause, rife with chilling disappointment and then Vic said in a steely voice. "I can't... I can't even..." She inhaled harshly. "I can't talk to you right now. I need to go." The line went dead. Robert looked at the phone, watching how it shook in his hand. And then a strange, sad calm came over him as he realized just how right Vic was. He didn't know whether his fuck up with Rebecca was something he should be held responsible for or not, but what did that matter if he might not make it through the night? What was he trying to do to Aaron, leaving him a voicemail like that? Wouldn't it be better for Aaron to continue to hate him, to want him out of his life? Wouldn't that be better, in the long run, if he was going to die? Wasn't it selfish to ask Aaron to sit at his bedside and watch him wither into nothing? Because there was a very good chance that's the direction his future was going in. Malignant tumors. The doctors seemed to think the explosive growth of the tumors in his brain most likely suggested that, yes, they were dealing with cancer here, brain cancer. Only a biopsy of the tumors would tell them for sure, but his doctor had already prepared him, brutal honesty her strongest communication tool, that he was most likely going to be in for a long, difficult fight, and the odds were not in his favor. He didn't want to go through that alone. He wanted his family: Aaron, Liv, Vic, Diane. he wanted them there, especially if his time was limited. He didn't want to have to fight all by himself, like he'd had to do for so much of his life up to that point. He wanted to lean on them, to be supported... He wanted them there so damn bad. But he didn't want to cause them pain, the horrible pain that comes with watching a loved one fade out of existence. He didn't want to promise them he'd fight and then die on them, to leave them with an emotional void they could never, for the rest of their lives, hope to fill. He didn't want to hurt the people he loved. He didn't want to be selfish in his last moments on this Earth. So he made a promise to himself, right then and there, that he would let them hate him, that he would leave Emmerdale, that he would hide himself away from anyone and everyone that knew him. He'd go somewhere far enough away and he'd take on the fight alone. He wouldn't give up, but he would be realistic. He probably wasn't going to make it. He probably would be leaving and never coming back. But, just maybe, he could beat it. Beat it and then, and only then, would he let himself go back and tell the truth to them all. And if he was being realistic, he knew that there was a very good chance that they would all have moved on without him by then, that him coming back would be nothing but a distraction, an annoyance. So he made himself another promise. If he survived this fight, he'd go back, but if Aaron was happy, making a family with someone else, someone better, if Vic was doing well without him, if Liv was too, he wouldn't intrude. He needed to stop being selfish when it came to the people he loved. After all, he'd been selfish enough for a lifetime. * * The next morning came slowly. Aaron watched the light creep in through the window at sunrise, watched it travel slowly across the bedroom ceiling. He didn't want to get up. He didn't want to face the coming day.A scream shattered the silence, Liv's scream. Aaron startled to his feet, darting out of the room and down the stairs. He ran to where she was standing, eyes wide, face pale, a hand clutched over her mouth. He looked her up and down and saw nothing physically wrong. And then he turned to see what she was looking at, what had made her scream.There were spatters of blood, starting where Robert had fallen into the coffee table and drawing a bloodcurdling dotted line down the hallway towards the front door…END of CHAPTER 5 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 6(8:00 AM [7 hours into surgery])There were spatters of blood, starting where Robert had fallen into the coffee table and drawing a bloodcurdling dotted line down the hallway towards the front door.Aaron felt all the color drain out of his face. Had Robert been hurt when he punched him? He didn't even remember seeing an injury... he'd been so angry, he couldn't even look at him, but he did vaguely remember his husband clutching at his arm after he fell. Aaron swallowed back bile as he realized he'd left Robert hurt and bleeding on the floor. He moved quickly towards the front door, shoving it open and looking outside. Robert's car was gone. He must have driven himself to a hospital. Aaron felt a pang of guilt hit him squarely in the chest and he clutched at his clothes, distressed. No matter how angry he was, he never wanted to see Robert hurt. And knowing that he'd been the one that did the hurting... it felt wrong. It twisted his insides into uncomfortable shapes. He needed to make sure Robert had made it to the hospital. He needed to. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest as he remembered he'd received a call from Robert's phone the previous night. What if he'd been calling for help? What if he didn't get to the hospital in time?He stumbled his way back inside, telling Liv to go on to school, that he'd sort things while she was gone. She looked like she wanted to argue, but seemed to decide against it upon spying the look on Aaron's face. He made his way upstairs, his eyes darting around his bedroom until they landed on his half smashed cell phone. It lit up when he touched the home button and the screen showed one unheard voicemail, but no matter what he did, the touchscreen didn't respond. He swore loudly.He shoved the phone in his pocket and headed outside and down the street, practically running when he saw Vic in front of the Woolpack. She looked sad, sort of guilty even, when she saw him. "Vic, is Robert-?""I'm so sorry, Aaron!" Vic cut him off, an angry tear running down her cheek. "I talked to him last night. He told me about you breaking up, about... him cheating. I couldn't believe it, that he could betray you like that. I'm so sorry." She closed her eyes, bowing her head, like, somehow, her brother's wrongdoing was her fault. Aaron stopped short. "You spoke to him last night?" Vic's brow furrowed. "Yeah, around one in the morning, I think."Aaron nearly collapsed in relief. "So he made it to the hospital." He said to himself, wobbling slightly as he lowered himself down to sit on the curb. “The hospital?” Vic asked sharply, her eyes widening. “What are you talking about, Aaron?” Aaron cast his gaze downward, guilt making it difficult to look his husband’s sister in the eye. “He… when he told me, I got angry and I… I hit him and he fell. He was still… I mean he was still talking. He seemed fine. I didn’t realize he was hurt.” Aaron swallowed, upset. Vic was staring down at him, agape, horrified. “This morning, I came downstairs and there was… there was blood, a lot of blood, and his car was gone.”“You hit my brother?” She asked, her voice brittle. “You hurt him?”Aaron covered his face with his hands, ashamed of his reaction, more ashamed than he could say. And then she spoke again, upset with herself this time, tears trickling down her cheeks. “So you’re saying that, when he called me, he was sitting in a hospital bed in pain?” She shook her head, crying down at Aaron. “I took your side. I told him he didn’t deserve you. I… I hung up on him.”Aaron began to sob. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was hurt, I swear. I never would have left him alone if I did.”Vic yanked out her phone, nearly dropping it in her haste. She dialed her brother’s number. It went straight to voicemail.“His phone’s off.” She said, her voice brittle once more. “He never has his phone off.” Aaron felt his insides go numb with fear. Something was wrong. Something felt really wrong. He pushed himself to his feet unsteadily and began moving towards his car. Vic trailed close behind him, both of them following the same instinct, the same cold, gut wrenching, ominous feeling. They needed to be there, at the hospital. An alarm was going off in both of their heads. They could feel a pull, a sixth sense urging them forward, tugging at their clothes and their hair and their limbs. And that feeling, that desperate, awful feeling of wrongness, hung over them darkly, quickening their pace and stealing the breath from their lungs.END of CHAPTER 6 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 7(9:00 AM [8 hours into surgery])“Robert Sugden.” Aaron told the nurse, his hands twitching with nerves. Vic stood next to him, frozen with fear. The nurse typed the name into her computer. She clicked something with her mouse. She scrolled down. She stopped moving, only her eyes raising to meet Aaron’s and Vic’s desperate gazes. “Are you family?” She asked softly, sympathetically. Both Aaron and Vic’s hearts jumped in their chests. “Yes, we’re family.” Vic whispered, fear stealing the force from her voice.The nurse nodded, peering at the screen again. “It looks like he’s still in surgery.”There was a pause, silence pressing its way into their ears, smothering out every other noise. They only heard that word, replayed for them by their brains, over and over, like a broken record. Surgery. Surgery. Surgery. He’s still in surgery. He’s still. It looks like. He’s still. It looks like. Surgery.“Surgery?” Aaron heard himself repeat, still unable to process, still stuck on repeat. His mind was whirling in dizzying circles. Hadn’t Robert hurt his arm? Why…? Surgery? Why? His heart was in his throat as he waited for an answer, a pounding in his ears so loud, he could barely hear the nurse’s response.“Yes.” The nurse looked between their shocked faces, confused. “Were you not aware Mr. Sugden had decided to have the surgery tonight?”“What? No.” Aaron put his hands down on the counter. “No, he… Robert came in for an injury to his arm, a cut, a… a deep cut, but…” His gaze flickered between the nurse and Vic. “He didn’t need… he… he didn’t need an operation. You must have gotten the name wrong—”“Robert Jacob Sugden, admitted with laceration to upper arm?” The nurse said, calmly, softly, interrupting Aaron. “Yes.” Aaron managed, peering hopefully up at the nurse. Please let it be a mistake.“I’m sorry. It says here, he was scheduled for surgery at one AM this morning.” The nurse said.Aaron looked between Vic and the nurse again. “That doesn’t make sense. Surgery for what?” He asked, still hoping, still praying that there was some kind of mix up.The nurse didn’t answer at first, looking suddenly cagey, suddenly nervous, as she realized they didn’t know anything, that she might have just revealed patient information she wasn’t legally allowed to. When she did speak, it was as if she was reading off a script. “I’m sorry, but I’m not able to release patient information to anyone other than family. I’ll need to check to see if your names are listed in Mr. Sugden’s emergency medical contacts. May I see ID, please?” Vic and Aaron both stared at her for a second before pulling out their IDs and handing them over the counter. The nurse pulled up something on the computer screen, her expression changing to one of apology as she turned back to them. “I’m very sorry, but neither of your names are listed.”“That… that has to be a mistake.” Vic said, her voice shaky. “I’m… I’m his sister. I’m family. He,” she gestured to Aaron, “is Robert’s husband. We have the right to know what’s happened. We—““Ma’am, I’m sorry.” The nurse said, cutting her off. “You’re not listed and there are specific instructions left by the patient expressly saying that no one but his solicitor is to be called in the case of a medical emergency.” Vic stood shaking her head, staring with wide, tear-filled eyes at the nurse. “His solicitor…? He’s my brother… Please.” She turned to Aaron, hoping he had an idea of how to convince the nurse to speak to them. He wasn’t there, behind her. She glimpsed his hoodie just as he exited out the front doors of the hospital.She followed, first at a walk, then at a run. “Aaron? Aaron!” She yelled after him. He quickened his own pace, making a bee-line for his car. He yanked the door open and then closed behind him. Vic did the same, spinning around in her seat to look at Aaron. He was shaking, shaking with violent sobs. “He took us off his emergency contact list, Vic. He didn’t want us called. He thought… he must have thought we didn’t want… that we didn’t care… that we wouldn’t want to be there.” He choked out between sobs. “I made him feel like this… I… I…” His breathing came in short bursts and his words became single syllables. “He… was… hurt-ing… and… I… I…” “Shhhh, shhhh, Aaron.” Vic threw her arms around him, holding tightly, helping him calm his breathing slowly. “Calm down, come on, just calm down.” She pulled back, looking into his face. “I don’t know how, but… it’s going to be okay. We’ll find a way to make things right. We’ll get him back, Aaron. We’ll see him again. It can’t… it just can’t end like this. It can’t.” She said, her voice a mix of bitter and hopeful.Aaron’s eyes flew open, suddenly, as he was reminded by the hard, square bulge poking into his ribcage that he had his phone with him, and he started fumbling around in his pocket. “Vic, give me your phone.” She looked confused, but did as he said. He pulled his own phone out, then, screen cracked beyond use, flipped it over and tore the back off, fishing around for the sim card. And then he put his sim card into Vic’s phone, turned it on, and…One unheard voicemail.END of CHAPTER 7 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 8"That...?" Vic stared at the phone screen. "Is that from Robert?" She asked in a whisper. Aaron nodded, his finger hovering over the play button. He tapped play, closing his eyes as the message machine told him the date and time the message was recorded. And then...“Aaron..." His heart skipped a beat.Robert. "I know you don’t want to hear from me right now and I would give you more time to process everything if I could… but I don’t have any more time to give." His heart shivered.There’ll be time. We’ll get more time together."I… I was diagnosed with multiple brain tumors a couple weeks ago." His heart was falling, dropping like a stone.Please no."The doctor… she says I have to have the surgery now, that I can’t wait any longer.” His heart was weeping.Wait for me, Robert. Please. Wait.“If you get this message in the next hour, please, I’d like to see you before… I’d like to hear your voice." His tears were rolling off his face in torrents.I want to hear your voice again too. "I realize, though, that that probably isn’t going to happen." His heart stilled with regret.I’m here. I’m right here. Wake up and see that I’m right here."So, just in case I don’t get another chance, there are a few things… I need to say." His heart…Don't say them. Don't say goodbye. “I love you." Don't."I love you so much." Please, don't. "I know I screwed everything up, but I wanted you to know that it wasn’t because you weren’t enough… because you were." This isn't happening. "You’re amazing, Aaron. I’m so lucky to have had you in my life… to have been loved by you. And, even if this is all the time I get with you, if my time’s up now… I’m grateful.” Don't you dare. Don't you dare say that. It's not over. It's not.“I wish you nothing but happiness, nothing but love. You deserve to get everything you ever wanted. So be happy, alright?” Not without you. No fucking way.………Aaron just stared down at the phone, a picture of Robert, calling him from a hospital bed and getting his voicemail, plastering itself in front of his eyes. A picture of his husband’s face, when he left a message, when he realized he’d be going into surgery without being able speak to the person that loved him most in the world. He must have felt so alone. Abandoned. Afraid. He must have felt so many things. And now he was laid out on an operating table, fighting for his life, thinking there was absolutely no one in his corner.And he… he might have missed the last chance he’d ever have to talk to his husband. He might have… missed it. All because he wouldn’t listen until the end, listen to the entire story like Robert had asked him to, like he’d promised he would. His chest felt tight, his breathing coming in short bursts, like spasms. He shook his head faster and faster, back and forth, covering his eyes with his hands. He drew his knees into his chest, curling up on himself. Victoria was beside him, a hand on his shoulder, telling him, tears in her eyes, to breathe, to just breathe. Like it was that easy.END of CHAPTER 8 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 9(10:00 AM [9 hours into surgery])They sat there in the car, Aaron willing his breathing to normalize, Vic, beside him, whispering words she couldn’t possibly know were true. “He’ll be alright. He’ll make it through this. We’ll see him again.”He wanted, more than anything, to go back to the night before, to get a redo. He needed a fucking redo. Just this once, couldn’t he please have a second chance to get it right? Couldn’t he please? Please?How could this happen? They finally had everything in place to be happy: he was out of prison, they were moving into the Mill, their family was perfect and messy and… perfect. So why was the universe throwing them a curve ball? Why was it so fucking uncooperative? Now, more than ever, Aaron felt like there was some unseen force, some maleficent aura casting a shadow over their lives. Brain tumors? As if they didn’t have enough to deal with already, now brain tumors? He blew out a painful breath, his airways strangled by grief.What if this was the thing that broke them?What if, after surviving so much, their nine lives were used up?What if Robert’s nine lives were used up?That was the scariest thing, the thought of Robert not being alive, of him not existing somewhere. It made Aaron feel like the world was a cold, dark, pointless place. Without Robert in it, what did the world, what did life, have to offer? Nothing. He had other people that loved him, other people he loved, but none of them, not even all of them put together, could fill the void losing Robert would leave in his life. He’d be empty, walking around, pretending to feel something when his loved ones spoke to him, pretending to be alive. Losing Robert wasn’t something he could get over. It wasn’t something he could survive. And, of course, it took him until now to realize it. Now that it might actually happen. Now that he might actually lose him. It took him until now to see that he couldn’t leave Robert, couldn’t break up with him, couldn’t even be separated from him for the shortest length of time. He needed him. He felt like an idiot for not seeing that sooner. And he felt like a complete moron for letting one mistake make him forget what Robert meant to him, what their relationship meant to him.If Robert survived this, Aaron swore to himself, he would fix everything he’d broken. He would get down on his knees and beg Robert to come back to him, because a drunken one night stand meant nothing now. And Robert meant everything. * * Vic watched Aaron from her side of the car, saying nothing, letting him sift through his roiling emotions and work through his tumultuous thoughts. She had some emotions and thoughts of her own that needed attention, the most predominant emotion being guilt. She’d been so quick to judge her brother, to take sides. She’d assumed, right off the bat, that the situation was so black and white, so cut and dry. Cheating is bad. End of story. But that wasn’t the way the world worked. People were complicated creatures with complicated reasons for doing the things they did. Robert was sick, sick for weeks and weeks and no one, not a soul, not her or Chas or anyone, had known. Not one of them had even noticed anything was wrong. Robert’s husband was in prison at the time, giving up on their future. And Robert was left trying to carry both his and Aaron’s responsibilities all on his own. He was crumbling under the weight of everything in his life and none of them saw.Was it so unspeakable, so unbelievable, that he would crack under all that pressure? Was what he’d done so unforgivable that she, his sister, should turn her back on him, should say the hurtful things she did?No.The truth was: she’d let her brother down. He’d made two calls that night. One of those calls was to an answering machine. The other was to her. And she’d fucked it up. Instead of being supportive, standing by him when he so clearly needed her, she’d tossed his honesty back in his face and hung up on him. And now she might not get a chance to make up for it. She might not.How was she supposed to cope with something like that? * * Neither of them knew how long they sat in that car in silence, their minds contorting themselves into pretzels, trying to wrap themselves around the suddenly glaring, impossible truths they had to face. But, they both seemed to emerge from their reveries at the same time, with the same unshakeable determination in their eyes. This fight wasn’t over yet. Robert was alive. And, until they were told otherwise, they would not be giving up on him. He might have had to go into surgery alone, but he wouldn’t be alone when he came out the other side. They would be there. He wouldn’t be on his own. Not ever again.END of CHAPTER 9 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 10(11:00 AM [10 hours into surgery])They needed a plan. They needed a way to get in to see a doctor, to find out what was going on. And Aaron thought he might have an idea.He’d never met Robert’s solicitor, but he was pretty sure he remembered his name. James… something… He remembered Robert mentioning him in a text once and that sent him scrolling through old conversations, looking for any mention of the man. Vic waited quietly while he searched. A few rogue tears escaped from his eyes as he read through Robert’s words. He never thought about how often they texted each other, never considered it odd that he knew what Robert was doing (and vice versa) every second of every day. It was kind of insane, actually, the sheer volume of words they had to say to each other. Robert and him had always had their own special… cadence, sort of a rhythm they got into in their conversations. They spoke so easily to each other, so effortlessly. Aaron had never thought about just how amazing that was.He found the text mentioning James, the solicitor, and searched for the name online, finding many individuals with the name. He called a lot of wrong numbers before he got the right man.“James Nightingale speaking.” The man said in a smooth drawl.“Yes, hello, this is… this is Aaron, Robert Sugden’s husband.” Aaron said apprehensively.There was a pause. “Can I help you with something, Aaron?” The man asked, a note of something akin to sadness permeating his voice.“Please, Robert’s in hospital. He’s gone in for surgery and the nurse at the front desk won’t give me or his sister any information. She says the only person listed in his emergency contacts is you.” Aaron swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Is there anything… is there some way... that you could help us?” He finished with a whisper, scared to hear the answer, scared to be told no yet again.It took a few seconds for James to respond. “Robert’s an idiot.” He said, sounding almost angry. “And here he thought no one would even care if he just disappeared off the face of the Earth.” Aaron flinched. “He’s not even properly through surgery before you lot are calling me up on the phone.” James sighed. “Look, technically, I’m not supposed to use my power of attorney to do anything more than set Robert’s affairs in order and pull the plug if he comes out brain damaged.” The phone dropped from Aaron’s hand. He stared at it in shock for a moment before scooping it back up and pressing it back to his ear. “But… I don’t think Robert would want me to keep you out of things, so if you really want to be involved—““We do.” Aaron practically shouted into the phone. “We both do. Please.”Another pause, probably due to James being caught off guard by the vehemence of Aaron’s response. “Alright then. I’ll make some calls. Try the nurse at the front desk again in about half an hour. I should be able to get everything sorted by then.” “Thank you.” Aaron choked out, so relieved he could barely speak. “Thank you so much.”“Tell Robert…” James said, the tinge of sadness returning to his voice. “If he makes it through, tell Robert… to value himself a little bit more.” Aaron stilled at those words, unhappy with the direction his thoughts took him when he considered what they meant. “I don’t know what knocked him down to where he is right now…” Aaron closed his eyes against the guilt that thumped into his chest, “but he’s not quite right… and he’s not going to get right again without some help.” Aaron noticed he was holding his breath. “So I hope you’re serious about being there for him. He needs someone.” The line went dead.Aaron clutched the phone tightly in his hands. He didn’t like the sound of that. What the hell had Robert said? What kind of state was his head in when he went into surgery? What was he thinking?END of CHAPTER 10 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 11(12:00 PM [11 hours into surgery])The nurse smiled awkwardly at them when they walked back through the entrance. “Hello again. I’m sorry about before. Everything’s been cleared up now. A doctor will be coming to speak with you shortly.” Aaron and Vic nodded, still a little bit angry that they had been turned away the first time around, and sat down to wait. It took about fifteen minutes for a doctor to come talk to them and, by the time one did, they were sitting on the edges of their seats, grinding their teeth together in agitation. “You’re Robert Sugden’s family?” He asked, seemingly appearing out of thin air. They both jumped to their feet, nodding slightly maniacally. “If you’ll follow me, we can go speak somewhere a bit more private.” They followed, their eyes trained on the doctor, their ears perking at every word that came out of his mouth. “Mr. Sugden was admitted for recurrent, severe migraines a couple weeks ago. He experienced a fainting spell that resulted in a head injury.” Aaron’s and Vic’s eyes watered. Weeks ago? “He was diagnosed with multiple brain tumors a few days later, when he was brought in again after passing out in a parking lot.” Aaron and Vic flinched visibly. How had this been happening all this time without them knowing? “He chose to postpone surgery, but, after his most recent episode, it was potentially dangerous for him to continue to wait, which is why we rushed him in as soon as he consented.”“Why did he… did he say why he decided to postpone?” Aaron asked in a whisper, knowing the answer already.“He wanted to talk to his husband first.” A burning tear rolled down Aaron’s cheek. He was so ashamed. He’d never felt so ashamed. Vic squeezed Aaron’s arm, trying to comfort him as best she could, and then she asked the buzzing question sitting on her tongue. “How is the surgery going, doctor?”“The surgery is going well so far, but there are still a couple hours to go and it’s a complicated procedure.” He spoke in a professional voice, the kind that lacked feeling, that lacked any kind of sympathy. Vic and Aaron shivered, hearing the but and wishing there wasn’t one. “His primary physician, the one that’s been with him throughout the process, is the one performing the operation. I’m only a consultant on the case, so I can only tell you the basics. You’ll have to wait until after the procedure to get all the details.” They nodded, waiting for him to continue. “She’s attempting to excise the tumors, but their locations, along with their rapid growth, means that complete removal probably won’t be possible. The masses will be tested in the lab to see if they’re malignant. And then, based on how much of the tumors are left and whether or not they’re cancerous, the treatment plan will be determined.” Aaron and Vic’s expressions froze in place, their heads spinning from the newest piece of horrible news. Malignant. Cancer. Robert might have cancer. In his brain.Aaron felt like he was falling, like the world had stopped spinning and everything that kept him standing on the Earth, that kept him anchored to the ground, had ceased to exist. It was like he was past the point of panic, like now he was just floating around mentally, physically, completely, untethered. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to hold himself together as best he could, so he could listen to the rest.The doctor was speaking again, seemingly oblivious to his mental anguish. “The surgery should be done in a couple more hours. You’re welcome to wait, but you won’t be able to see him until after the doctor has done her post-surgical evaluation.” “We’ll wait.” They both said without hesitation. * * Aaron was falling to pieces. That’s what it felt like, like his insides were crumbling away, like a strong gust of wind was all it would take to turn him to dust. He’d been so happy less than twenty-four hours before. And now he was miserable, miserable from the fear, from the grief, from the guilt. He just wanted Robert back in his arms, happy and healthy. That’s all he wanted. That’s all. Was that too much to ask? * * Aaron was falling to pieces. Vic could see it. She was watching him out of the corner of her eye, trying to think of something, anything, to say. But she had nothing left. She’d tried so hard to be positive all day, to help Aaron through, but she’d run out of… that something that always kept her going, that thing that let her smile and fight on, no matter the circumstances. Her tank was empty. She couldn’t anymore. She was falling to pieces too.END of CHAPTER 11 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 12(1:00 PM [12 hours into surgery])Aaron was staring at the dull, egg-shell-colored walls of the waiting room when his phone began to buzz in his pocket. “Hello?” He croaked sadly.“Aaron?” Aaron thought he heard Chas sigh on the other end of the line, like she’d been expecting him to be upset when she called. “I suppose you’ve spoken to Robert, then.” Aaron sat up straighter, his eyes widening at her words. “Did you know?” He whispered, an accusation in his voice.“Oh, love, where are you?” Chas answered, her tone sympathetic. “How long?” Aaron asked more sharply this time.Another sigh. “I caught them together. I’ve known since it happened.”Aaron rocked back on his feet, taken aback when he realized Chas was talking about the cheating. His voice came out slightly calmer now. “No, that’s… I meant… I thought you might have known he was sick.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “What are you talking about?” Chas asked sharply, her voice suspicious. Aaron let out a relieved breath, glad to know his mother hadn’t been hiding the fact that his husband was ill from him. He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to forgive her for that. “He’s apparently been sick for a while, getting migraines, having fainting spells…” His voice shook. “He’s in surgery right now.” He whispered. Chas pulled her phone away from her ear, looking down at it in shock. So then… he wasn’t faking anything, that day when he hit his head. There really was something wrong. She swallowed back the guilt creeping over her and put the phone back to her ear. “I didn’t know… I mean, he told me the doctors said everything was fine…”“What are you talking about?” Aaron asked, confused.“He… he knocked on my door one night, asked me to drive him to the ER. He’d hit his head. He told me he’d had a headache all day, that he’d gotten dizzy and fallen and woken up with the head wound. I drove him to the hospital. He got patched up and… he told me the doctors said he was alright, that there was nothing wrong.” Chas stumbled slightly over her words, remembering getting the feeling he was covering, that he wasn’t being completely honest with her that night. “I don’t think… I don’t think he wanted to worry you while you were inside. Maybe that’s why… he played it down the way he did.” She spoke quietly, sadly. Somehow life or death experiences seemed to put everything else into perspective. It was hard to hold onto her previous rage, knowing Robert might not survive. “How could you not tell me about this!?” Aaron shouted into his phone. “You were… struggling.” Chas answered, hesitantly. Aaron’s phone shook in his hand. “But he’s my husband.” He said quietly. “I deserved to know he’d gotten hurt.” He closed his eyes. “Why didn’t he tell me? This relationship is supposed to go both ways; he’s supposed to be able to rely on me too.” His voice trailed off, sadness choking him as he once again began to wonder what kinds of thoughts were going through Robert’s head while all this was happening, while he was hiding his illness, while he was having everyone that loved him removed from his emergency contacts. Was he planning to hide this forever? Was he going to disappear after the surgery and try to deal with all of this by himself? When did he become so distant, so impossibly out of reach? “He probably was waiting until you got out, Aaron. You had enough to deal with. I’m sure he didn’t want to add to that.” She spoke the words quietly, knowing they were true as she sifted through memories of her most recent encounters with Robert. She paused, a thought worming its way into her brain and twisting her stomach with guilt. “His condition… did it affect his behavior? I mean, is that why he did what he did… with Rebecca?”Aaron’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening at the shocking thought. “I… I don’t know. Oh my God.” He let his head drop into his hands. The possibility had never occurred to him.Please, listen all the way until the end before you decide… what to do. Oh my God. Was that what Robert had wanted him to hear before he made his decision? That he might not be responsible for his actions? That he wasn’t in control when he slept with Rebecca. Aaron felt sick. Robert had tried to tell him. He’d tried. And he’d responded by hitting the man he loved, by hurting him. He was the worst. END of CHAPTER 12 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 13(2:00 PM [After surgery])“Are you Robert Sugden’s family?” The question surprised Vic and Aaron out of their quiet reveries. They looked up, their eyes swimming with too many emotions to count. They waited for the words, the words that would make or break their future. Alive or dead? Damaged or not damaged? Benign or malignant? “The surgery went well.” They breathed again. “I was able to remove almost all of the tumors.” The doctor paused, her expression growing more grave now. “The tests show that the tumors are malignant, so we’ll need to begin talking about chemotherapy once Robert wakes up, which should be within the next hour or so. I’ll need to conduct my post-surgical examination and then, after that, you’ll be able to go in and see him. I’m sure he’ll be very happy to know you’re here.”Aaron and Vic wore identical expressions, half overjoyed, half scared beyond measure. He was alive, but he had cancer. He was going to wake up, but he might not be happy to see them. But either way, they did get the chance, the chance they’d been praying for, the chance to talk to him again, to see him alive again. And nothing, not even the accompanying bad news, could quite mute the overwhelming joy they felt at having that chance.“So he’s… he’s alright? I mean, there’s no…” Aaron swallowed, closing his eyes as he shuddered at the thought. “There’s no brain damage?” He asked in a whisper.The doctor smiled at him, just the smallest hint of sadness in her eyes, the kind of sadness that comes from years and years of delivering news, both good and bad, to the loved ones of her patients. “I won’t be able to tell for sure until I conduct my post-surgical check. But I’m reservedly confident that the surgery went well and no damage was done to the surrounding brain tissue. That being said, the brain is an extremely complex thing and I did remove several large masses. There could be trauma not visible to the eye. Only time will tell… I want to prepare you.” She looked between them, holding their gazes. “There’s no way to know how a person will come out of a surgery like this. There’s no way to know how they’ll be affected, how they’ll be different. Be prepared. Be strong. Be patient. Robert’s got a long, difficult fight ahead of him. And he can’t win by himself.” Vic and Aaron bowed their heads. Then they spoke, determination burning like fire behind their eyes.“He won’t have to.”END of CHAPTER 13 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 14(4:00 PM [Post-Op])Robert woke up to an empty hospital room. The incoherent murmuring of nurses wafted in from the hallway, the monitors around his bed beeped and clicked, and there was a general flurry and flux of movement outside his room. He stared up at the ceiling and wondered if this is what he had to look forward to over the next months: lonely stays in unfamiliar rooms, encountering unfamiliar faces. His eyes teared up at the thought. It had been less than twenty four hours since he’d made his promise to do this by himself, and he was already feeling lonely, already struggling with his decision. He would laugh at his capriciousness, except he felt like if he did, it would quickly turn to crying. And he didn’t want to start crying… because he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop. It felt like there was an emptiness in his chest now, that a void had opened up where his heart was meant to be. He felt his throat tighten with emotion.He reached for the plastic cup filled with water next to his bedside, the IV in his arm impeding his progress. He tried to sit up and move closer so that he could reach, but pain ricocheted off the inside of his skull and he fell back into his pillow, gasping in shock. He laid still, scared to move and hurt himself again. He reached up slowly, gingerly running a hand along the bandages wrapped around his head. He’d made it through, then. He’d made it past this first obstacle. After all, he was pretty sure neither heaven nor the other place would look like this, would be set in a hospital room. Right?He looked up as his doctor backed into the room, consulting another doctor on his lab results, as she did. Normally, lab results took days to come back, but, due to his circumstances, an emergency rush had been placed on his biopsy results. She turned and smiled at him in her sincere, yet professional way. “How are you feeling, Robert?” She asked, shining a light in his eyes before coming around to the other side of the bed and probing along the incision on the back of his head.He shrugged. “Fine, I guess. Head hurts.” He looked up at her. “I’m assuming that’s normal, though, after brain surgery.” She smiled in response, finishing up her post-surgery checks. Then she stepped back and began speaking. “Okay, Robert, the surgery went as well as could be expected. I was able to remove all but two of the tumors completely, with minimal damage to the surrounding tissue. We talked about this beforehand, about how it was highly unlikely I’d be able to get everything, so it went according to our expectations.” She lowered her voice, as if to soften the blow, to lessen the disappointment from what she had to say next. “The biopsy results are back and the tumors are malignant. Because we’re dealing with multifocal tumors, the treatment plan will have to be more aggressive. We need to begin radiation and chemotherapy immediately. Normally, I’d wait to get you started until you’d fully recovered from the surgery… but, frankly, there isn’t time for that, not if you want to have your best chance at survival.” Robert nodded, wincing when it set off another shock of pain. The doctor continued, running through the details of his treatment plan. His mind drifted in and out, the drugs in his system imposing a thick fog over his brain. He could understand everything being said, but he couldn’t really process it. That was probably better, though. He should probably enjoy it, the numbness, enjoy it while it lasted. When the doctor finished her spiel, she paused for a moment, waiting for Robert to look up at her and focus. “Robert, I know you’re not all there right now. You just got out of surgery. So, I’ll be going over all of this again with you later on, alright. For now, just relax and try not to move around too much.” She smiled at him. “I’ll go ahead and send your family in. They’ve been waiting to see you.”Robert’s brain seemed to stall, like an overheated engine, for a moment and then all he could think was: Maybe this was heaven, after all…END of CHAPTER 14 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 15He watched them come in with foggy eyes, half from the drugs, half from the tears that threatened to fall. Their own eyes mirrored his, lost but found at the same time. They sat on either side of his hospital bed, saying nothing, just grabbing up his hands and holding on tightly. A silence followed, a silence filled with words they hadn’t worked up to saying yet. Aaron broke down first, bending low over Robert’s hand, clasped within his own, and letting his tears fall in fat drops. Robert looked on in shock, confused as to why Aaron was so upset. Hadn’t he ended things less than twenty-four hours before? Hadn’t he been angry enough to lash out physically? Hadn’t there been nothing but hatred in his husband’s eyes? “Aaron?” He asked, but the name sounded wrong on his tongue, like it wasn’t his to say anymore. And Aaron heard that, the awkward edge to Robert’s voice, the catch in his husband’s throat that stemmed from deep-seated confusion. Why are you here right now? Robert was asking. Why are you upset that I’m in the hospital? Why do you care? He wanted to hurt himself, then, for giving Robert cause to ask such questions. The urge came on suddenly, screaming for attention, like a bug bite begging to be scratched. His eyes were clouded with the effort of stuffing down that urge when he looked up to meet his husband’s confused gaze. But Robert’s normally razor sharp intuition, his ability to read people with astounding ease, was severely hindered by the drugs coursing through his veins. That’s why he didn’t see what he normally would have in Aaron’s eyes; that’s why his confusion remained and he made no move to comfort the clearly distraught individual in front of him. Aaron watched Robert’s face, waiting for his husband, who always knew exactly what he was thinking, who always knew exactly what he wanted to say without him having to say it, to read the guilt and the apologies and the love in his eyes. But Robert’s expression remained the same, half confounded, half dazed, a foggy blankness flurrying behind his usually discerning eyes. And Aaron felt his grip on Robert’s hand loosen, felt his posture straighten. This wasn’t his husband, this blank, staring shell of a man. This wasn’t his Robert.As soon as he thought the thought, he felt ashamed. Of course it was. Of course it was his Robert, because Robert, in any form, was his. This Robert was half high on morphine and had just come out of brain surgery. He just… wasn’t firing on all cylinders right now. And then Aaron thought about what the doctor has said, about how the brain is a complex thing, about how surgery could cause changes, deficits, differences. He hated the thought of Robert coming out changed, of him not being the same, but he also realized that, no matter what state Robert was in, no matter what version of him came out of this nightmare of a situation, Aaron would want him. He would take care of him. He wouldn’t let go. He would have to change too, that’s all. If Robert couldn’t gain access to his every thought and feeling by looking into his eyes, he’d just have to learn to express himself better, to say what was on his mind instead. And this was a perfect time to start.“I’m so sorry, Rob. I’m so, so sorry.” He watched as Robert’s confusion intensified, and continued, choosing his words carefully, trying to make sure his husband could understand. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did when you told me about Rebecca. I promised you I’d listen to the end and then I went and I… I hurt you. I will never forgive myself for that.” He stared into Robert’s eyes, seeing the comprehension there, seeing that his apology wasn’t falling on deaf ears. “You needed me and I wasn’t here. I hate that you had to deal with this on your own.” He blinked back the wetness that formed in his eyes. “I promise you, though, that you won’t have to be alone anymore. I’m here. Vic’s here. We’ll help you get through this.” He dropped his gaze, insecurity buzzing in his ear. “If you still want me here, if you can forgive me, I swear I’ll do everything I can to make this okay for you.” And then Robert grasped his hand, shedding tears of his own, now. “Of course I want you here.” Aaron bowed his head once more, so relieved to hear those words. “There’s nothing to forgive you for, Aaron. I…“ Robert swallowed at the fresh wave of guilt that washed over him. “I’m the one who screwed up, not you. You had every right to be angry; I understand.” And then his voice became brittle and small, and his eyes clouded over. “I deserved what I got.”Aaron’s eyes widened and he looked back up at his husband, absolutely horrified. But it was Vic who spoke up, the angry edge to her voice that had been present that morning returning in full force. “No you didn’t, Robert. You didn’t deserve to be hit by someone you love. Aaron made a huge mistake.” She turned to Aaron, waiting until he met her eyes. “And if he ever makes a mistake like that again, he’ll have me to answer to.” Aaron nodded at her in ashamed acknowledgement and then looked back at Robert, only to see that his husband’s eyes had glazed over, that Vic’s words had not reached him. What Robert’s solicitor said to Aaron on the phone was suddenly starting to make a bit more sense. There was something… off about Robert, about how he was processing everything that had happened. Somehow, he got the sense that his husband’s unshakeable confidence was severely, irrevocably shaken.He’d done that, he realized. The way he’d treated Robert, while he was in prison, when he got out, maybe even long before that. He’d made his husband feel small and alone and unloved. And now he had to find a way to fix it.“Robert, look at me.” He said. Robert raised his gaze slowly, hesitantly. “You deserve so much better than the way I’ve treated you the last few weeks. When I married you, I made a promise to be there, to have your back, to support you, no matter what was going on in my own life. I let you down. You were,” he lowered his head for a moment, upset, “you were sick, really sick, and you had no support system at all. That’s on me.”Robert looked into his eyes and, after a long moment, squeezed his hand gently and whispered, “It’s okay, Aaron. You’re here now… somehow...?” He said the last part like a question. Aaron frowned, guilt pricking at him as he remembered what had lead him to the hospital. “There was blood, a lot of it, from the cut on your arm. Liv went down first this morning and saw.” His voice became pleading. “I didn’t realize you were hurt, Robert. I never would have walked away from you, no matter how mad I was, if I had realized you were injured. Please know that.” He searched Robert’s eyes for confirmation that, yes, his husband did know. Robert stroked his face lightly. “I know.” He said serenely, his confusion cleared up now.Aaron smiled tearfully at him and continued to recount the events that had taken place that day. “I listened to your voicemail.” Robert closed his eyes, remembering the cold loneliness he’d felt pressing in on him from all sides as he’d made that phone call. “You were already in surgery and we… we were out there in the waiting room losing our minds because we couldn’t get any information from the doctors.” Aaron’s voice shook slightly and Robert looked back at him with wide eyes. And then Aaron asked the question, the burning question that had been sitting on the tip of his tongue for hours. “Why did you remove us as emergency contacts, Robert?”Robert looked down at his hands in his lap, not meeting Vic or Aaron’s eyes as he answered. “When I didn’t hear back from you, Aaron, I… I assumed you’d probably deleted the voicemail, that you hadn’t heard it, that you wouldn’t. And, after I talked to Vic,” Vic closed her eyes, pained by the harsh words she’d spoken, “I got to thinking… it’d be better for you, for both of you, if I just… left. If you stayed angry and just assumed I’d gone, you wouldn’t have to deal with… with all of this.” He gestured around himself, at the machines, at the dreary hospital walls. “And, if I didn’t, you know… make it…you wouldn’t have to deal with that either…” He looked up, finally, and saw that Aaron and Vic were wearing identical expressions of horror, that they were shaking their heads back and forth in denial, tears rolling down their cheeks. “You idiot.” Was all Vic managed to say, through her crying. Aaron was watching him with something akin to fear in his eyes. “You were going to try to get through this all on your own? Without any help from anyone?” His eyes flickered back and forth, between Robert’s own, like he was searching their depths for something he didn’t want to find. “Did you really think we’d want that, that we wouldn’t be here for you as soon as we found out you were sick?”“I knew you would.” Robert said, not looking at either of them. “You’re both too good of people to abandon someone who’s terminally ill.” Aaron and Vic both flinched at the last part. “I knew you’d be here, that you’d be at my bedside every day, that you’d twist yourselves into pretzels trying to take care of me.” Aaron’s brows furrowed, as he watched Robert’s eyes darken and grow out of focus. “I didn’t want either of you forcing yourselves to do that. I was trying to do what was best for you, instead of what was best for myself… for once in my damn life...”They both stared at him, lost for words. Forcing themselves, he’d said, ‘forcing’ themselves to help him, like it was a burden, like he was a burden. And then they both realized, at the same time, that Robert thought the only reason they were there… was because they felt obligated to be. END of CHAPTER 15 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 16“No one’s forcing themselves to do anything, Robert.” Aaron practically growled at him. “We’re here because we love you and we want to help you. It isn’t selfish to ask for help; it isn’t selfish to lean on us.” Robert watched him with sad eyes. “But what about what I did? How can you still love me, how can you still want to be here, after that?”Aaron blew out a breath and then spoke, his gaze trained on Robert’s face, searching for the truth. “Honestly, I was ready to forgive you as soon as I saw all that blood, as soon as I was confronted with the thought of actually… losing you… before it even occurred to me that your illness might have played a part in your actions.” Aaron saw Robert’s eyes widen and took that as confirmation: Robert hadn’t been in control when he’d slept with Rebecca. “How did you…?” Robert asked, his question trailing off.“When I was talking to mum on the phone.” Aaron answered quietly. Robert looked even more confused. “She told me about driving you to the hospital, about you telling her the doctors gave you a clean bill of health.” His voice grew sharp at the end. Robert avoided his eyes. “She asked me if the brain tumors were the reason you did what you did, with Rebecca. I hadn’t even considered it before then.” “I can’t say for sure, Aaron.” Robert said quietly. “I don’t… I don’t remember how it happened… but that doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean I’m free of blame.”“You don’t remember?” Aaron responded, his heart jumping in his chest. Robert shook his head, frowning unhappily. “Wait.” Aaron ran a hand nervously through his hair. “Like you don’t remember how she ended up at our house… or you don’t remember sleeping with her?” He watched Robert shrug, something wiggling its way up his digestive tract, making him feel sick. “I don’t remember either one.” Robert whispered, his eyes on Aaron’s face, which had paled measurably at his previous words. “I was driving home from visiting you at the prison and I was thinking… well… I was thinking I wanted a drink… and then there’s just… nothing. The next thing I remember is waking up in the morning.” He turned his face away, the dread he’d felt when he’d woken up and found Rebecca next to him washing over him once more. “Oh my God, Robert.” Aaron choked, his face white and bloodless. “Oh my God.” He felt sick, nauseated by the revelation. His husband had been in no fit state to give consent. And that meant… well, that meant that, technically… technically, he’d been—No. He couldn’t think it. He felt his mind throw up walls around itself, protection against the horrible word. Not Robert. He couldn’t deal with something like that happening to Robert, to his beautiful husband, who was looking back at him now with self-loathing, with guilt, blaming himself for a situation in which he was so clearly a victim.“Robert, don’t you see…” Aaron swallowed back the nausea and continued. “Don’t you see that, you not remembering, that means none of what happened is your fault. You blacked out, before you even had a sip to drink. You’re not responsible for what happened after that.” His voice scratched painfully out of his rapidly constricting throat, the result of holding in tears. “You’re not responsible for any of it.”Robert looked back at him with hooded eyes, not able to believe his words. He spoke quietly, feeling like he had to explain to Aaron that it was his fault, that he shouldn’t get let off the hook so easily. “Rebecca told me I texted her to come over, that I invited her in, that I was saying… that I was saying all sorts of horrible things, about you, about us. From what I understand… I manipulated her, Aaron, I took advantage of her feelings.” He paused, scared to meet Aaron’s eyes, his voice barely audible now. “If I did all that… I must have been in control of myself. I must have known exactly what I was doing… which means I am responsible. I wish I could blame it on being ill, but I can’t.” He finished in a defeated whisper, not looking up to see Aaron’s reaction, listening for the telltale slamming of a door that would mean he’d walked out.But, instead, there was only silence, silence filled with something… heavy, some elephant in the room he couldn’t quite identify. He finally raised his head and saw that Aaron was exchanging a disturbed look with Vic, who was clutching a hand over her mouth and looking nearly as pale as Aaron was. “What…?” He asked, baffled by their expressions.And then he felt Aaron squeeze his hand, gently, as if offering support, and he turned his gaze back on his husband. “Robert… no matter how coherent you seemed to Rebecca,” Aaron grimaced as he said her name, his eyes flashing with unrestrained anger, “you were blacked out. You weren’t capable of making rational decisions.” He paused holding Robert’s confused gaze with unhappy eyes. “You weren’t capable of giving consent.” Robert stilled, his furrowed brow smoothing out in his shock. “No, Aaron, you’ve got it wrong.” He said, shaking his head in denial. “She said I was normal, totally coherent, not slurring my words or unsteady on my feet—”“It doesn’t matter. None of that matters.” Aaron said quietly. “You were mentally incapacitated, by your illness and by the alcohol. You were incapable of giving consent.”Robert stared at him, his mouth opening and closing a couple times.Vic spoke from where she sat on the other side of him, her voice choked. “Aaron’s right, Rob. You’re not responsible for what happened. Rebecca should have stopped it. She shouldn’t have…It was her responsibility to stop it… and she didn’t.” Vic’s voice was bitter at the end, bitterly angry at this woman who’d taken advantage of her brother, who’d pretended to be his friend. And maybe she hadn’t know that Robert was sick. But she must have known he was drunk. She must have known he was off his face if he was suddenly saying he didn’t care about Aaron, about their marriage. She must have known.But she’d slept with him anyway.END of CHAPTER 16 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Aaron could tell Robert wasn’t completely buying it. He had gone quiet, his gaze lowered as if he was unsure, as if the topic of consent was making him uncomfortable. Aaron kept a firm grasp on Robert’s hand, while his husband thought about what he and Vic had said. And then Robert spoke, insecurity permeating his every word. “I really… I really can’t be sure what happened… and that means… neither can you.” He let out a shaky breath, peeking up cautiously at Aaron’s face. “Can you really live with that, Aaron? With never knowing how much of what happened was me and how much was… not me?” There wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation in his answer. “I can.” Robert searched his eyes and he stared back, so sure of his answer, so sure of Robert, that he felt like there was nothing more he needed to say on the topic. Robert swallowed, seemingly shrinking in on himself, as he retreated from that sureness. Every time he’d ever let Aaron down flashed to the forefront of his mind. He was too much of a screw up; he didn’t deserve to have someone with that much faith in him. He didn’t deserve it and it made him scared to move, scared to do anything at all, because he knew if he did, he’d mess it all up somehow. He’d mess it up. Just like he always did. Aaron’s brow furrowed as he watched Robert press himself into his mattress, as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible. What was this reaction? Why did his husband look so unsure when he himself was the complete opposite? Had he done even more damage than he realized over the past months? He leaned forward, pulling Robert gently up from the bed just enough for him to wrap his arms around him. He felt Robert shaking against his chest and he held him even tighter, trying to dissipate his doubts and insecurities with physical closeness. “I’m not going anywhere.” He found himself saying. That seemed to make the shaking worse. But as he clung on even more tightly, he realized Robert was sobbing, was finally believing that he wouldn’t leave, was finally melting into his embrace and letting his guard down. “I’ll probably mess up again.” Robert sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m always—““Me too.” Aaron responded simply. “We’ll just have to get better at forgiving each other.” He paused, regretful once more. “Well… I will. I’ll have to learn to not fly off the handle.” He laid his head on Robert’s shoulder, closing his eyes. “You’ve always been forgiving, right from the start. I don’t think you’ve ever held something I did wrong against me, not even for a second.”“That’s because you don’t hurt other people when you make mistakes.” Robert choked out through his sobs. “You hurt yourself. But I… I hurt the people around me.”“I won’t let you self destruct. I’ll be there. I’ll get you through.” Aaron spoke softly, holding Robert tightly until the sobs shaking his frame abated. “I’ll do better, from now on. I’ll do better.” He whispered. Robert’s fingers closed around the fabric of Aaron’s hoodie, clinging desperately to the tiny blossoming sprig of hope warming him from within. * * Vic was being productive. She’d left to give the two men some privacy, but she wasn’t collapsed in a bathroom stall crying her eyes out. She was asking questions, doing research. She was finding out what her brother’s diagnosis meant. And so far, what she’d found out was that it meant Robert was going to be very sick, very tired, and absolutely miserable. And that was just from the chemotherapy, leaving out the actual brain tumors themselves, which came with their own separate collection of symptoms. Blackouts. Memory loss. Migraines. Seizures. The list went on and on and on. With the majority of the tumors removed, the doctor theorized the symptoms would be less severe than they had been prior to the surgery. But there was no way to know. Recovering from brain surgery in itself was a somewhat daunting process. Robert was going to need to be on heavy painkillers for a while, meaning the glassy, slightly unfocused look of his eyes wasn’t going away any time soon. And he was going to need a lot of help. She could tell Aaron was committed, was ready to step up. He was sorry, truly sorry, for what he’d done, for hurting her brother. Sorry enough that she could let it go. And now her and Aaron knew the truth, knew about the blacking out, the drinking, the memory loss. Now they knew who the real culprit was. Rebecca. That lying, conniving bitch. She’d been totally fooled. All this time. She hadn’t seen Rebecca for what she really was: utterly obsessed with her brother. And Robert still couldn’t see it, see that it wasn’t his fault, that all culpability fell on her. But she’d work on that. She’d say it over and over, until she was blue in the face. He needed to understand, needed to be free of that guilt, because, right now, it was stopping him from really letting them help him, stopping him from feeling like it was okay to let them help in the first place. She shivered as she recalled his words. ‘It’d be better for you, for both of you, if I just… left. If you stayed angry and just assumed I’d gone.’ ‘And, if I didn’t, you know… make it…you wouldn’t have to deal with that either…’ ‘I didn’t want either of you forcing yourselves to do that.’ ‘I was trying to do what was best for you, instead of what was best for myself… for once in my damn life...’That lawyer had been right. Robert’s confidence, his opinion of himself, had taken a drastic nosedive. And she knew it was partly because of her, because of what she’d said in that phone call. But there was more to Robert’s decline than that. This was more deep-seated, like something had been plaguing him, had been dragging him downwards, for a long, long time. She didn’t have to wonder what the root cause was for long. His relationship with Jack. She’d always known there was a reason, a real reason, a reason that Robert never shared with her, why he maintained, even to this day, such antagonism towards their father. She knew it was the cause of his issues with Andy. She knew it had made it extra difficult for him to come out. And she knew it had left Robert with an unquenchable need to prove himself, to prove that he was worth something. He’d spent his whole life up to this point trying to prove it. But, suddenly, it was as if he’d given up trying.It was as if he’d embraced the idea. He really thought he was. Worthless. Undeserving of love. Undeserving of help. Undeserving in general.And she had to fix that. She had to fix it urgently, because Robert was in for the fight of his life and right now… Right now he didn’t want to win.END of CHAPTER 17 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 18Liv had been waiting for Aaron to call all morning. The time for her to go to class had come and passed and Chas hadn’t said a word, hadn’t even attempted to persuade her to go. They sat at the kitchen table together, waiting, not speaking at all, not making any effort to fill the silence or distract themselves from the fact that there had been no news since Aaron had told Chas that Robert was in surgery. That was hours ago. If Robert had made it through… Aaron would have called them, immediately, wouldn’t he? So, if he hadn’t called… did that mean something had happened? Did that mean Robert wasn’t okay?Liv shook her head, dislodging that disturbing line of questioning from her mind. No. Robert would be okay. Her family would be okay. And then the phone finally rang.Her and Chas stared at it, suddenly hesitant to answer. It rang again. Chas reached out and put it on speaker phone.“Aaron?” Liv asked, after a moment of heavy silence.“Yeah, it’s me.” Aaron said, his voice tired and sad. They waited for him to gather his thoughts. “Look… Robert’s out of surgery. He made it through.” Liv and Chas deflated with relief, smiles creeping onto their faces. “But…” Aaron paused again and their grins slipped. “He’s… he’s still really sick. He’s got—“ Aaron’s words cut off at the sudden commotion on his end of the line. Liv and Chas could hear doctors and nurses in the background.“He’s seizing!” “Push 10 milligrams Diazepam.”“No response.”“Push 2 milligrams Lorazepam.”“Lorazepam in.”“Still no response.”“Push 2 more of Lorazepam.”A pause.“No change.”“Try phenobarbital.”An acceleration of beeping.“He’s coding.”“Get a crash cart.”“Code blue.”Aaron’s phone clattered to the ground and the line went dead. Liv and Chas stared at the phone, their blood running cold.And then they were both out of their chairs, moving with long, hasty strides towards the door. They needed to be at the hospital. * * He’d been fine two minutes ago. He’d only left the room, only dragged himself a few hesitant steps down the hallway, because Robert seemed completely fine. But then, almost immediately after he called home, there was a flurry of activity in the hallway and Aaron had watched on in horror, the phone dangling forgotten from his hand, as doctors and nurses converged on Robert’s room. He stumbled on stiff legs over to the doorway, looking inside and seeing his husband convulsing in his hospital bed.And then the heart monitor made that horrible noise, that noise that meant Robert’s heart had stopped beating.“Code blue.”“Charge paddles to 200.”“Clear.”“Charge to 300.”“Clear.”“Still V-fib.”“Charge to 350.”“Clear.”Beep. Beep. Beep.“We’ve got sinus rhythm.”Aaron felt air whoosh out of his lungs and he sank down to his knees in the doorway, his heart beating unevenly in his chest.One of the nurses came over to him and helped him to his feet, leading him over to the chair beside Robert’s bed. He fell into it, his eyes flicking up and down Robert’s unnaturally still form. He took up Robert’s hand, his own shaking uncontrollably. The doctors and nurses moved around him, working over Robert, writing things down in his chart, using medical jargon Aaron didn’t understand. All he could do was sit there and watch his husband’s chest rise and fall, thanking the universe for that small, significant movement.Robert’s doctor came over and sat next to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t look away from Robert. Eventually she spoke in a calm, comforting voice. “I know that was shocking for you, Mr. Dingle. We’ve administered some preventative seizure medication now, so he’ll be groggy when he wakes, but it should keep him from having any more seizures for the time being.” Aaron closed his eyes, the reality of what had happened starting to set in. “Does this mean… something went wrong in the operation?” He squeezed Robert’s hand. “What… what does this mean?”“It could be an after-effect of surgery. That’s one possibility.” The doctor answered. “But it could also be a symptom of the tumors themselves. We just can’t know for sure yet.” “So it could happen again?” Aaron asked in a frightened whisper.“Yes, it could happen again.” The doctor responded somberly. “His heart stopped.” Aaron choked out. “That’s going to happen again?”“No, it’s very unlikely that that will recur.” She responded calmly. “More than likely, Robert reacted badly to the combination of the drugs we had him on for the operation and the seizure medication. It should be alright now.” Aaron let out a relieved breath. “As for the seizures, we’ve put him on medication that will reduce the severity of any future attacks. If it happens again, it won’t be as bad as that.”A tear ran down Aaron’s cheek. “How long until he wakes up?”The doctor stood, patting him on the shoulder kindly. “Not long at all.” She left quietly.It was barely a minute later when Robert’s eyes fluttered open. His gaze moved sluggishly around the room until it landed on Aaron’s pale, anxious face. “What happened?” His words came out slightly garbled, his voice weak. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Aaron wiped at the tears trickling from the corners of his eyes. “You, uh, had a seizure.” Robert’s brows pulled together in confusion and he looked at Aaron more closely, registering how absolutely distraught his husband was. “And your, well, your heart stopped.” He added in a choked whisper, blowing out a shuddering breath, and clutching Robert’s hand like a lifeline. Robert’s eyes widened, disturbed more by Aaron’s tearstained face than the news that he’d just had an extremely close call. He reached out with his free hand, cupping Aaron’s cheek and wiping away the tears there with his thumb. “I’m sorry. You must have been scared.” Tears pricked at his eyes as regret washed over him, regret for causing his husband pain yet again. “I’m really sorry, Aaron.” His voice came out small and remorseful.Aaron looked at him strangely then, his eyes searching once more. “Robert, why the hell are you sorry?” He asked in a strangled voice, half angry, half frightened. “I almost lost you just now. You almost…” Aaron shook his head, closing his eyes against the thought. He stared unblinkingly at Robert, trying to communicate with his eyes as much as his words. “I was scared to death that we weren’t going to get our future together, the one we just fucking got back. You didn’t do anything wrong. You have nothing to apologize for.” He took a deep breath, his voice lowering back down to its normal volume. “I’m here because I love you. I’m here because there is nowhere I want to be more, because I want to, no I need to, be by your side. I need to help you through this, to be here for you, to support you. I need to.” Robert blinked back tears, his mouth downturned in a frown. “But… Aaron look what this is doing to you. Maybe, it’d be better for you to get some distance. You have to think about your mental health—“Aaron gaped at him, his voice harsh as he interrupted the nonsense his husband was saying. “Robert! Don’t be ridiculous! My mental health would be in much worse shape if I was somewhere else, away from you, not knowing what’s going on, whether you’re okay or not.” Robert still looked unconvinced. He tried a different tact. “Imagine if our roles were reversed. Go on.” Robert shook his head, refusing to think about it. Aaron rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You would never, ever leave me. I know that. And I feel the exact same way, Robert. I’m not going. So stop feeling responsible for making me upset or whatever shit you’re blaming yourself for in that head of yours. I’m upset because I love you and you’re sick. That’s not your fault. So stop it. Now.” He glared down at him, fiercely. Robert stared at him with wide eyes full of something akin to wonder. “Aaron, you’re really…” The corners of his mouth pulled up. “You’re really amazing. Do you know that?” Aaron blushed crimson, diverted completely from his rant.“Oh, shut it.” END of CHAPTER 18 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 19 : BlankAaron was sitting, his head laying on Robert’s hospital bed, his eyes wide and alert, still far too worried about his husband to even think about sleeping. Robert was gazing down at him, running his hand through his errant curls, trying to soothe his unease as best he could. That’s the scene Vic rushed into the room to find. “I heard. I just heard.” She said, slightly out of breath from running through the maze of hospital hallways. “Are you okay? What’s going on? What—?““Everything’s fine, Vic. Come sit down.” Robert spoke calmly, unhappy he was causing the people he loved so much anxiety and determined to alleviate it as much as possible. Vic turned to look at Aaron, who had sat up upon her entry, as if to check that Robert really was fine, that he wasn’t downplaying what had happened. But looking at Aaron’s face, seeing the tension and the worry there, did absolutely nothing to soothe her. She looked back at Robert as she lowered herself into the empty chair beside his bed. “Tell me what happened.” Her voice cracked with stress.Robert peeked at Aaron, not wanting to bring up what had happened again and upset him further. Aaron seemed to pick up on his hesitation, though, and frowning, he squeezed Robert’s hand with his own and recounted recent events for Vic in a somber tone. Vic’s eyes grew wide and her worried gaze flickered rapidly between Robert and Aaron. “But it won’t happen again, right? The doctor said…”Aaron swallowed, controlling his voice. “She said his heart stopping was probably a side-effect of putting the seizure meds into his system so soon after surgery, that it was a bad reaction to the combination of drugs he was on. She said it shouldn’t happen again.” He rubbed his free hand over his face. “But he might have another seizure. Not as bad, but… but still.” His voice trailed off.Robert watched Aaron’s face, how his jaw clenched with tension, how the worry line between his brows remained there even after he finished speaking. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like that he was the reason Aaron was feeling like this, was having to deal with this. It didn’t feel right. It weighed on him the way guilt weighs on the conscience.Because the only way he’d ever been able to rationalize it being okay for him to be with Aaron was by convincing himself that he could make Aaron happy, that he somehow could make up for all his other deficits and faults by putting Aaron first. But now he was making him miserable, causing him pain, taking far more than he could ever give back. He was asking for something he’d never earned the right to ask for. He couldn’t accept Aaron’s help. It was too much. It threw them too far out of balance. It wasn’t fair of him. It wasn’t fair.Before he could think about it further, Liv and Chas came hurdling into the room. Aaron looked up, startled, and bit his lip guiltily.“Aaron!” Chas shouted at him, half angry, half relieved. “We thought…” Her eyes flicked to Robert and then back to Aaron. “You gave us both a heart attack. Why didn’t you call us back?”Aaron lowered his head in apology, rubbing a thumb in agitated circles over the back of Robert’s hand. “’m sorry.” He told them. “I just…” He peeked at Robert. “I couldn’t leave again.” His voice shook as recent events clouded his thoughts. Robert frowned in confusion, stealing a quick look at Chas and Liv, before training his gaze on his lap. They were just here for Aaron, he reminded himself. They weren’t here for him. Chas would likely have preferred his heart not start beating again, after all. So he’d just keep quiet and let them have their time with Aaron.Chas looked at Robert, unsettled by his lack of response to their presence. She noticed how he seemed to be avoiding looking in their direction. She sighed. The last few times she’d spoken to him she’d been extremely angry; she’d been, quite frankly, ready for him to permanently disappear from their lives, from her son’s life especially. But things were different now.He was sick. Everything that had happened suddenly had new, perspective-changing explanations, explanations that even she, whose top priority was always her son and his wellbeing, couldn’t just dismiss. Her mind kept dredging up that day she’d driven Robert to the hospital, how she’d known he was hiding something, how she’d assumed the worst so easily about what that something was. Hadn’t she made promises to Aaron when he’d gotten sent down that she’d look after the people he loved, that she’d look after Robert, in his absence? It shamed her to admit that she had failed her son, that she hadn’t even sort of kept that promise. She looked at the man in front of her now, thin and frail, spidery limbs curled around himself as he laid in his hospital bed with eyes downturned, and felt guilt rile her stomach. She should have noticed this deterioration happening right in front of her, should have spent at least some of her time worrying about her son-in-law, about how he was doing, how he was coping. It shouldn’t have taken him cracking his head open to make her notice he didn’t look well. And she shouldn’t have turned on him so quickly, so harshly, when she found out what happened with Rebecca. Because even then, as she’d stood screaming at him for betraying her son, his eyes had looked oddly vacant, like his body was an empty vessel, and that should have given her pause, should have made her stop yelling and start asking questions. She hadn’t done her job as Aaron’s mother, as Robert’s mother-in-law. She hadn’t kept her promise.She walked over to Robert’s bedside and sat down next to Aaron, her eyes on the man in the hospital bed. “Robert,” She started, her voice dripping with regret, “I owe you an apology. More than that… I owe you a thousand apologies.” Robert’s brows pulled together in confusion, but he still didn’t raise his gaze to look at her. She noticed his hand twitch in Aaron’s. “I was meant to be looking after you for Aaron. I… was meant to be looking after you the way you were looking out for me and Liv and the Pub and the Scrapyard and everything else.” She swallowed, feeling even guiltier as everything Robert did for her over the past weeks listed themselves in her mind. “I should have been helping you more. I should have noticed you weren’t okay earlier and, at the hospital that day, I should’ve asked more questions, should’ve gone with you when you got checked out by the doctors.” She frowned, upset. “I knew something was wrong. I was the only one here who knew something was wrong and I… I didn’t do anything about it. I didn’t push you to tell me what the doctors said when I should’ve. I didn’t ask you how you were feelings in the days after you got hurt.” Her eyes welled up. “And I didn’t give you the chance to explain when I found you with Rebecca, even though you looked all kinds of off, even though I knew how much you loved my son, how much you’d done for him. I let Aaron down. And I let you down. I’m so sorry, Robert.” She felt his gaze lift, finally, and met his eyes contritely. But whatever she expected to see there, annoyance, perhaps anger, she didn’t see. Instead she was met with eyes that absolutely screamed discomfort, filled to the brim with abhorrence, abhorrence that was very clearly directed inward. Before she could fully process what she’d glimpsed in his expression, Robert was responding to her.“No, you… you’ve got nothing to apologize for.” He spoke with a strange urgency. “I didn’t want anyone to know; I’m the one that hid I was ill from everyone. And with Rebecca… you were just looking out for Aaron. I understand. I’m glad he has you looking out for him.” I’m glad he has someone to look after him when I’m gone. They all heard the subtext. Chas’s brow furrowed with worry. Vic’s eyes watered. Liv looked shocked. And Aaron looked angry.But Robert… Robert just looked sort of blank.END of CHAPTER 19 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 20 : They’d get there.“What…? What’s going on?” Liv asked tearfully from where she stood by the door. “What happened with Rebecca? And why are you talking like that?” She glared at Robert, but more potent than the anger in her expression, was the visible fear. She’d heard it, too, the way Robert was distancing himself emotionally from every single one of them right in front of their faces, how he was forgiving them for all their trespasses while he still had the chance to cleanse their blackened consciences, trying to make them feel better, to feel guilt-free, as if he wouldn’t be there to do it later, as if he knew he’d be leaving them behind. It was like he was laying the groundwork for a future he wouldn’t be around for. And she couldn’t stand it.Aaron stood, enveloping her in a hug, cooing at her softly and petting her hair. Only then did she realize there were tears running down her face, that her entire frame was shaking with silent sobs. “Come on, don’t cry. Come sit down and we’ll chat, yeah?” Aaron asked her after her shaking had subsided some. She nodded, her eyes flicking to Robert, who was wearing his worry for her so plainly on his face that it made her feel guilty for her emotional outburst. Once she was seated next to Aaron to one side of Robert’s bed, with Chas and Vic sitting across from them at the other, Aaron grabbed up Robert’s hand and began talking. “When I called before, I was about to tell you…” He swallowed, peeking at Robert, whose eyes were watching him carefully. “I was about to tell you that Rob’s been diagnosed with brain cancer.” His voice squeaked oddly at the end and Liv and Chas stared at him, dismayed and dazed, before turning their eyes on Robert. He glanced at them sadly, seeing that they too were upset by the news and feeling like even more of a burden than he had before. He was making everyone cry.Aaron began speaking again. “The first surgery went well. The surgeon was able to remove most of the tumors… but he’s going to need chemotherapy and radiation.” Aaron swallowed, the fear closing up his throat. “And then, maybe, more surgeries after that…” Robert absentmindedly brushed his thumb lightly across Aaron’s cheek, comforting him instinctually. Aaron caught his hand and held it to his face, appearing to draw strength from the touch as he straightened his posture and a steely determination flashed in his eyes. “It’s going to be hard, really hard, but we’re going to make it through this.” He met everyone’s eyes one by one and then growled as his gaze settled back on Robert. “All of us.” * * * They spent the day in Robert’s hospital room, all of them shifting positions, standing and pacing for short durations, and then sitting again. There was a slowly easing tension, one that had accompanied Liv and Chas into the room, and as it eased, Robert slowly grew more comfortable and fell into his normal rhythm with Liv and Aaron, chatting and teasing, a smile working its way onto his face. Vic spoke little, seemingly still shocked by the scare earlier that day. Chas, on the other hand, was busy watching, watching this new beaten down version of Robert, her eyes going wider the more she watched. She saw how he tiptoed around every topic of conversation, scared to offend, how he was quick to make self-deprecating remarks, how his eyes flicked over to Aaron every few seconds, needing reassurance that his words and actions were acceptable. It was dramatic, the change she saw in him, and it scared her. Had Aaron noticed this? Had he noticed how different his husband was? Was this because of the brain surgery? Or was this change engendered by the events of the last few months, by the way she and Vic and Aaron had treated him? She realized she couldn’t possibly know the answer, as she hadn’t been paying attention to Robert, hadn’t cared enough to notice changes in his behavior and mannerisms. She couldn’t know what the root cause was, but the changes were undeniable and she found herself hoping, for the sake of all of them in that room, that they weren’t permanent. She found herself missing the snarky, confident soul Robert used to be. Chas looked away from the family before her, wiping away the tear that rolled down her cheek. She had a lot to make up for. She had a lot to make up to Robert. She hoped it wasn’t too late to do that.* * * Liv thought he sounded off, somehow. He was smiling, talking to her like everything was fine, like they used to talk, her, Robert, and Aaron, before all of this happened, before prison, before everything started slipping out of their grasp. But he was also careful in a way he hadn’t been before, hesitant and unsure about their reactions to the things he said, unsure whether they would, at any moment, decide he wasn’t worth their time, stand up, and leave him alone in his sickbed. And she didn’t understand why that was. This was a different Robert than the one she’d spoken to at Aaron’s welcome home party. He may have been a bit more reserved, a bit quieter, and just generally tired during the time Aaron was in prison, but he’d still had faith in their family, had trusted that they would all come through together and stronger than ever. It seemed like, in a remarkably small time span, an enormous amount of doubt had crept into her brother in law’s mind, had jackhammered cracks into their family’s solid foundation. Was it because of this thing that had happened with Rebecca that no one seemed to want to tell her about? What’d happened? She promised herself she’d ask Aaron again next time they were on their own. She felt like she needed to dig, to get to the bottom of where all this doubt was coming from, because a niggling feeling buzzing at the back of her brain was warning her that if she didn’t, they’d lose Robert. They’d lose him. * * Aaron noticed. He noticed all of it, the way Robert was tiptoeing on egg shells with him and Liv, the shock and regret on his mother’s face, the growing worry that replaced it as she watched them interact, and the flickering fear in Liv’s eyes as she observed the person that had become like a second brother to her waver and falter and hesitate. Normalcy. That was the only thing that’d get Robert to feel like himself again. Normalcy and an overwhelming show of support from his loved ones. He was past the initial shock he’d felt upon seeing that Robert was different, different then he used to be, because, slowly but surely, he’d begun to see glimpses of his husband underneath, struggling to find his footing, struggling to trust them all again. That was what was really broken, he thought, Robert’s ability to trust them, to trust that they really did care, that they really wouldn’t abandon him when the going got rough (as if it wasn’t rough already). They’d all let him down, lost that trust, and now they had to earn it back, and Robert had to open himself back up again and allow them to. It would take time, but Aaron could see Robert trying and, he hoped, Robert could see all of them trying. They’d get there. END of CHAPTER 20 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 21 : Put a Stop to ItRobert was tired, really tired, absolutely bone-weary with exhaustion. That was obvious from the way his eyelids drooped every few seconds and his head dropped back against his pillow with increasing frequency. But he was also fidgeting like mad, despite his fatigue, and Aaron couldn’t quite get a handle on what was making his husband so restless. After a particularly manic twitch, Aaron couldn’t hold back anymore. “Robert?”Robert smoothed the bed covers over his lap, not looking up as he responded. “Hmm?”Aaron cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to raise his gaze. Robert sighed, his hands stilling, and met his eyes contritely. “Rob, what’s going on? What are you fussing about?”Robert’s eyes flicked over to the doorway Vic, Liv, and Chas had exited through about fifteen minutes prior. “Liv’s got classes tomorrow. She already missed today; she can’t afford to miss tomorrow too.” He fidgeted uncomfortably. “She’ll be dead on her feet if she doesn’t get some sleep at home in her own bed. It’s already late…”Aaron tilted his head, eyes appraising and trained on Robert’s face. “You're in the hospital. She just found out you've got brain cancer. I think it'll be okay if she misses a couple days of school." Aaron responded quietly, watching Robert's brow furrow and his gaze drop. "She shouldn't miss school because of me." He said, just as quietly. Aaron frowned at him, opening his mouth to speak, but Robert continued, cutting him off. "I'm going to be in the hospital a lot the next couple months. She can't miss school every single time; she'll flunk out."Aaron didn’t respond for a moment, trying to understand what underlying worry was inspiring his husband’s words. Then he decided the reason didn’t change what his answer would be. “Rob, look, I’ll talk to her teachers if I have to.” Robert opened his mouth to argue, but Aaron spoke again before he could. “She wants to be here. She wants to help you through this and I’m not going to send her home if that’s what she wants.”Robert spoke with urgency now, his eyes pleading. “Aaron, it’s not good for her to be around this. She shouldn’t be anywhere near it.” “And by that you mean, what? That she shouldn’t be around you?” Aaron asked, comprehension dawning. “You think I should send her home and tell her not to worry, tell her you’ll be fine, treat her like she’s a kid who can’t handle it and keep the truth from her?”Robert avoided his gaze, fidgeting with the covers once more. “She shouldn’t have to watch me die.”Aaron’s eyes flashed and he spoke with a hiss, punctuating each word sharply. “She’s not going to.”“You… Aaron…” Robert sighed, his face scrunching up with discomfort. “We both know the odds.” He said quietly.Aaron’s mouth flattened into a grim, determined line. “What do odds have to do with us? Who cares about the flippin’ odds. We’ve been through so much shit, Robert. Do you really think the odds were in our favor all this time? Do you think the odds were good that we’d still be together after everything that’s happened?”Robert met his determined gaze with hopeless eyes. “But Aaron… all those other times there was something I could do, something… someone I could fight. I don’t know how to fight this. I can’t smooth-talk my way out of brain cancer.”Aaron’s eyes softened and he grabbed up Robert’s hands, stilling his twitching fingers. “But you’re not the only one fighting this time, Rob. You’ve got me and Vic and Liv and even me mum in your corner. We’ll do everything we can to get you through this.” “What if I die anyway?” Robert asked, his voice trembling and his eyes tearing up as they flickered back and forth between Aaron’s. “What happens to all of you if I die after you’ve gotten your hopes up, after you’ve done so much positive thinking that you’ve actually convinced yourself I’m going to live?”Aaron bowed his head, clenching his teeth together as he tried to ward off the fear that rumbled through his chest at Robert’s words. He couldn’t lose him. It wasn’t an option. “You’re not going to die.” His voice scratched out. “You can’t.” Robert opened his mouth to try, once more, to get Aaron to understand, but Aaron cut across him, his voice rising in volume and cracking with emotion. “No. You don’t get to fucking die, Robert. You don’t get to leave me here, all alone without you for the rest of my life. You have to stay. You have to fight to stay because I can’t…” Aaron shook his head, the welled up wetness in his eyes spilling down over his cheeks. “I can’t. Without you, I can’t.” There was a heavy silence. Robert stared at Aaron, the burden of responsibility weighing heavily on his chest, suffocating him with its immensity. He can’t? He can’t what? But as much as he didn’t want to understand, to internalize, the meaning of what his husband was saying, he knew. I can’t go on. I can’t go on without you.That’s what Aaron was saying to him and it made him want to scream because, no, Aaron was not allowed to think that way. Not ever. And definitely not now when he was well on his way to being dead and Aaron was talking about following him. Hearing those words made him feel like miniature glaciers had formed in his stomach and were now chilling him from the inside out. No. It couldn't be like this. Aaron couldn't be like this, couldn't talk about giving up, about not going on, if he didn't survive. It was as if a heavy burden, the heaviest of burdens, had just been dropped on his already weak, weary shoulders. He stared at Aaron with his mouth agape, shaking his head slowly back and forth. He looked down at their intertwined hands. "Aaron..." He managed to choke out. "Aaron you can't... please don't say that. You'll be fine. You're strong- you're the strongest person I know. You've got Liv and Chas. You'll be fine." He trailed off, watching Aaron's face, which was still halfway concealed from him, scrunch up as if he was trying to hold back distressed sobs. Robert's eyes teared up as he observed his husband struggling. "You have to be fine." He whispered.The men sat in tense silence after that, Aaron desperately trying to reign in his unruly emotions, and Robert sitting with a furrow between his brows, deep in thought about what the best course of action would be going forward, about how he could best protect the family he'd be leaving behind. Liv, Vic, and Chas returned a while later, all of them stopping short in the doorway as if the tension could be felt, as if it was physically making the air thicker and gloomier and difficult to wade through. Liv swallowed down the uncomfortable dryness that had assailed her throat and proceeded forward with careful steps, her eyes flicking between her brother and Robert. “Is… is everything okay?” She asked timidly.“Fine. Everything’s fine.” Robert said softly. “I was just talking to Aaron about… you all must be exhausted and everything’s… stable for now so –““He’s just worrying over stupid things.” Aaron interrupted in a falsely cheery voice that contrasted sharply with the sadness in his eyes. Robert closed his mouth, his brows pulling together and his gaze falling. “Everything’s fine.” They all made their way over, tentatively, reclaiming their respective chairs by Robert’s bedside. Chas and Liv scoured Aaron’s expression, trying to glean insight into what he was upset about. But Vic was watching Robert.She was watching how he seemed to shrink back into himself at Aaron’s reprimand, how all the progress he had seemed to have made, the way he’d started opening up to all of them again since they’d reunited after his surgery, was lost in an instant. Suddenly, he was small and careful and unsure again. He wasn’t looking anyone in the eye. His head was bent, his posture almost… submissive. Whatever he and Aaron had been talking about that had made them both so upset… Aaron had quashed it, had dismissed the subject, and Robert, rather than arguing or attempting to bring it up again, had fallen back, looking timorous, completely cowed by Aaron’s words. Her brother looked… distressed, like he was upset with himself, like he was berating himself inside his head. And she didn’t like it.Her attention turned to Aaron, who was manufacturing light conversation with Liv and Chas. Why had Robert reacted so oddly to what he’d said? And why did Aaron not seem to notice that her brother had just completely retreated back into his shell, the one they’d been trying to lure him out of since he woke up. Was Robert… was he afraid of Aaron? She’d scarcely have believed it less than 24 hours ago, but now she’d learned of another side to Aaron, a violent side. And the way Robert had reacted just now… he’d seemed almost… intimidated. It couldn’t be… right? Aaron hurting her brother had been a one time thing, hadn’t it? He’d never gotten physical with Robert before, had he? No… No, Aaron wasn’t like that… And there’s no way her brother would have put up with an abusive relationship. There’s no way…Right?But then why had Robert said what he had before? When Aaron had apologized for hurting him, Robert had responded… well… he’d responded like an abuse victim, hadn’t he? ‘I deserved what I got.’ Wasn’t that a strange response for someone who’d never been hit, who’d never been abused, before?The thought made Vic’s insides go cold. She must have it wrong. She must be missing… something. There’s no way. There’s just no way… But as her eyes flicked between Aaron and her brother, she felt as if something was off between them, that there was an uneven power distribution in their relationship, that, now that she thought about it, had always been there. Was it abusive? She didn’t know. But there was something wrong about how Robert had backed down the way he did, like he was scared of what would happen if he pushed even a little bit, if he didn’t just let Aaron have his way. It didn’t sit right with her.Her eyes narrowed as she watched Aaron speaking to Liv and Chas, looking completely unfazed by the way Robert had just shut up and shut down. Had he really just not noticed? Or had he not noticed because this is how Robert always responded to conflicts between them? Was this normal to him? Did Robert always capitulate to him this way?She wracked her brain, trying to remember the exchanges between them that she’d seen, but she couldn’t really remember noticing anything off before now. Had she just been blind to it, blind to this skewed dynamic they seemed to have? She didn’t know. But if there was something… wrong there, then she was going to find out. She was watching now. She was paying attention now. If Aaron was hurting her brother, if he wasn’t treating him right, she sure as hell was going to put a stop to it.END of CHAPTER 21 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 22 : Just a couple more?“He’s just worrying over stupid things.” Aaron interrupted in a falsely cheery voice that contrasted sharply with the sadness in his eyes. Robert closed his mouth, his brows pulling together and his gaze falling. “Everything’s fine.” Oh. His heart jack rabbited in his chest and his eyes filled with wetness. He blinked slowly, trying not to draw attention to himself. The tears didn't fall. He breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to shut the hell up. Liv wasn't his sister. He forgot sometimes, forgot that she wasn't really his family. He loved her like she was and he'd do anything to keep her happy and safe... but, still, he had no business telling Aaron how to take care of her. It wasn't his place. He was out of line. He was so out of line. And if he didn't get back in line, if he kept butting in when he had no right to do so, he'd lose everything. Aaron would change his mind about him, would turn tail and leave and take Liv with him.So he needed to stop.He needed to stop giving Aaron reasons to leave him. He didn't want to do this by himself. Now that Aaron was here holding his hand, now that he had his family supporting him at his bedside, he couldn't imagine going through what was coming without them. He didn't want to fight this fight alone. He wanted his family here, helping him, giving him hope and courage and all the other things he could only get from them. He was scared to death of making a wrong move, of saying the wrong thing, and driving them away. But... he knew the moment would come when he would do just that. Because he was a train wreck on two legs. He looked like a man, talked like a man, walked like a man, but he was a wrecking ball knocking down loved ones and enemies alike with every decision he made, with every word he spoke, with every breath he took. It was only a matter of time before they realized, before any forgiveness they had bestowed upon him evaporated as he took their time and their patience and their kindness, took it and gave nothing back. He wanted to be good; he wanted to care for them and return their love the right way. He wanted to deserve them, but he did not and he never would, never could, for he had nothing to give back to them. There was no goodness in him. He wasn't selfless or kind or loving. No. He was broken, had been since early, early on. His father had seen it, had seen him, for what he was. Even relation by blood couldn't make a man love a monster. And so his father never had loved him, had, from the earliest days he could remember, looked at him with something like revulsion swirling behind his eyes. He had peered into the face of a young, innocent boy and seen the poisonous nature Robert would come to possess, a nature no amount of beatings could nullify, rectify, or reverse... Not that he didn't try to beat the monster out of him. Not that he didn't spend many a night attempting to rewire Robert's brain through pain and punishment, through the whistling swing of a belt, through the thump of a clenched fist. It just hadn't worked. The poison had spread and he'd grown into exactly what his father had foreseen.A monster. He was. He must be. How else could he be such a screw up? How else could he cause such immeasurable damage and devastation to these people sitting at his bedside? How else could he have the gall to ask them, to guilt them into, staying and supporting him, sacrificing precious time, moments upon moments of their lives that they'd miss out on because, instead of being outside in the world, living, they were stuck here with him. He was terrified of losing them, of the moment they left him to succumb to his illness on his own, of the moment that would undeniably come to pass. He was trying with all his might to hold himself in check, to stop himself from making the mistake, from saying the hurtful thing, that would make them walk out. He wanted as much time with them as he could get, every extra second. But he knew, too, that every extension of time he got to have with them meant an extra second they would be around him, having to watch him have seizures and migraines and black outs, having to watch him lose his hair and get steadily sicker and frailer, having to sit in waiting rooms wondering if he'll survive another surgery. Every extra second he gets with them means an extra second they'll spend watching him die. He was worried, so so worried about his family, about the damage watching him wither away bit by bit would do to them. He didn't want Liv, he didn't want Aaron, forever haunted by their last memories of him, of the faded imprint left of him after chemo and the cancer took their unavoidable toll. And, because of that, he felt guilty for every moment they spent with him, every moment they spent at his side instead of out in the world living their lives. It had been barely a day and, already, he felt as if life outside was moving on without him, and much worse, without them. It was wrong of him to cling onto them this way, to bite his tongue in the hopes that they would be driven away later rather than sooner. If there ever was a time for him to do something decent, it was now, it was right now. He could make them hate him. He could make them leave and never come back. He just had to open his mouth and let the poison flowing through his veins come pouring out of his mouth. He knew just the words to say to make them abandon him, how to hit them at their weakest points, how to hurt them so deeply even their most sympathetic of instincts would evaporate. He could do it. He knew exactly how. But.His eyes shone with tears and he blinked rapidly to keep the wetness back. He didn't want to hurt them. He didn't want to have to say the things he'd need to say. He didn't want to watch them walk out the door. He didn't want to be abandoned. Not again. He should do it. He knew he should do it. But he wanted, no he needed, just a bit more time. Just a little bit more. A couple days. Just a couple of days more of them caring about him, of them worrying about him and sitting with him and holding his hand. That wasn't too selfish, right? That wasn't too much to ask, was it?Just a couple more?END of CHAPTER 22 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 23 : Worth Staying For“He’s just worrying over stupid things.” Aaron interrupted in a falsely cheery voice that contrasted sharply with the sadness in his eyes. Robert closed his mouth, his brows pulling together and his gaze falling. “Everything’s fine.” Yeah. Right.Aaron's ears were ringing. Robert was talking about dying on him. He was all calm and collected, like he had already accepted that his death was a given, like he'd already come to terms with the fact that there was no chance of him beating the cancer, no chance of them getting the future that they'd planned, a future where they were together and happy and finally past all the craziness. Aaron was ready for an all-out war against this illness, ready to spend every waking hour taking care of the person he loved, every minute making sure Robert had whatever he needed, every second projecting positivity and optimism and sureness. He was so determined to get Robert through this, to be a pillar of strength for his husband. But then there was Robert, who wasn't preparing for a fight at all, who was preparing for a loss instead, for the greatest of losses. Aaron didn't understand why, why Robert was giving up this way, why he was so devoid of hope. He didn't understand what had happened, what had changed, to make Robert uninterested in fighting for his own survival. He didn't understand when exactly the fight had gone out of his husband, when the look of steely determination that he loved, the look that made him feel safe and comforted, had vanished from Robert's eyes. Where was it? Where had it gone? Why had it gone? And how the hell did he get it back?He spoke words to Liv and Chas, meaningless thoughtless words that he couldn't remember a second after they'd left his mouth. The both of them looked at him as if they desperately wanted to ask what had happened between he and Robert whilst they'd been out of the room, but they did not, their worried eyes flickering between his face and Robert's. He, on the other hand, didn't look at Robert, not wanting to acknowledge the things his husband had said before, not wanting to even consider they could be true. He needed him to fight. He needed Robert to use every ounce of strength and willpower to fight to live, to fight to stay. He sighed audibly and finally turned his gaze on his husband, ready to resume their discussion, to push harder, to push until Robert changed his tune, until the spark returned to his eyes. But this intention went straight out the window when he saw that Robert had shrunk back into himself, his limbs tucked, his head bowed, and his eyes far, far away. Aaron was immediately transported back to how Robert had been when he and Vic has first seen him after surgery, had talked to him about what had happened with Rebecca and asked him to explain what he'd been planning to do after surgery, when they'd found out he was going to suffer in secrecy, to tell no one and leave Emmerdale, to fight and, possibly, die all on his own. It made him suck in an alarmed breath. His gaze flew from Robert's distracted eyes to Vic's, who, he was surprised to find, were already laser focused on him. Even more surprising was the expression on her face, half suspicious, half angry. Most surprisingly of all, though, was that her anger and suspicion seemed to be directed at him. And that was baffling. Because... what had he done? He couldn't think of a single reason to explain her suddenly aiming such animosity in his direction. All he'd been doing was talking to Chas and Liv about trivial nonsense, about nothing of any consequence. Perhaps she thought he'd said something to upset Robert, to make him withdraw back into himself the way he had. But he hadn't. If anyone should be upset, it was him, after hearing Robert basically say he'd already given up. He should be upset and angry and glaring at people. Not her. So why was she?He shook his head, confused, and looked away from Vic. Whatever it was, she could fume about it by herself. He didn't have energy to spare on worrying about Vic's hurt feelings. Because he had a husband he needed to convince to live. * * Liv understood her brother was under a great deal of pressure, that he was emotional and worried and sleep deprived too. It was obviously an unfortunate combination. She wasn't angry at him. She wasn't. She knew he was spread very thin at the moment, that he was taking as much of the burden of the news about Robert onto his own shoulders so that she, and Chas and Vic too, but mostly so that she, wouldn't have to deal with the worst of it. She knew that.But that didn't completely excuse him. That didn't mean he could just talk to people however he wanted. It didn't mean he could just wave off other people's fears and worries and say that those fears and worries were stupid. As if only his own were valid. As if Robert having separate thoughts and concerns was something ridiculous. To say the least, she'd been... taken aback by the way Aaron had so offhandedly dismissed Robert earlier. It wasn't completely foreign to her, Aaron making the final decision when the two men disagreed. Robert was sort of a pushover when it came to her brother. He always gave in and agreed to what her brother wanted because his main priority always, and she loved him for this, was making Aaron happy. It was wonderful and it seemed to work for them. But, just now, when Aaron had shut him down that way, it had felt wrong, somehow, like he was taking advantage of the fact that Robert always gave him his way. It made her uncomfortable, maybe because he'd said what he'd said, in a way that was so belittling, in front of all of them. She knew their dynamic, how they usually functioned as a unit. She lived with them, so it wasn't completely shocking to her. But Chas and Vic... they didn't usually see this part. Aaron and Robert were private, both of them, and didn't usually argue or settle arguments in front of others. Liv wouldn't be surprised if Vic and Chas thought they got along pretty much perfectly, because, aside from when they had their major blowouts in their admittedly rocky past, the two men didn't fight, didn't even squabble the tiniest bit, when they were in public. But now they'd just been given a front row seat to the settling of an unknown argument in a very one-sided, somewhat rude, way. Even, she, who was used to the way Robert would fold when Aaron put his foot down, was unsettled by this particular case.And looking at Aaron now, she was pretty sure he hadn't really noticed, hadn't really felt that the brushing off he'd just given was anything odd or different. And maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was exactly how he always pushed aside Robert's feelings and wants and took his own way. But that way of doing things, suddenly felt... harsh. Their dynamic suddenly seemed unhealthy, skewed too far in Aaron's favor. And, turning now to look at Robert, she thought she understood why that was. He wasn't the same. He wasn't as tough or thick-skinned as he used to be. Words didn't bounce off of him anymore. They stuck. They pierced through. They wormed their way into his consciousness and nibbled and prodded at his fears and his insecurities. He was weaker than he'd ever been, incapable of fighting back, verbally or physically, even if he wanted to. It was like Aaron had gone from occasionally yanking the leash of a large, sometimes aggressive canine, to kicking a puppy in front of an audience. It wasn't right. It upset her to watch. And maybe Aaron hadn't realized, hadn't understood how completely vulnerable Robert's psyche was right now. Liv didn't think he'd hurt Robert on purpose; she knew he wouldn't. But he was used to a Robert that it was very difficult to hurt and, therefore, was careless about the barbs and spikes being thrown with his words. Normally, Robert could take it. Normally, he wouldn't have even blinked.But this version of Robert was so easily hurt, was so frail and defenseless, it was scary. They needed to be careful with this Robert, needed to treat him with kid gloves. She could see that so clearly. But apparently her brother couldn't.Aaron was jabbering about some nonsense and she was waiting for him to look at Robert, waiting for him to notice the effect his words had, his careless, dismissive words. But he wasn't looking. Why wasn't he looking? It was taking ages and Robert kept going white at odd moments and curling up on himself even more. It made her think of a tortoise withdrawing all of its limbs into its shell. And then it made her think of an opossum rolling over and playing dead, praying desperately that no one and no thing will notice it, will pay it any attention. Yes, that's how Robert looked right now. Like he was scared to move a muscle, scared to even breathe, for fear of driving them away. No. Driving her brother away. Because that, she knew, was Robert's deepest, most desperate fear. Being abandoned. Losing Aaron. Losing the only person he'd every loved, the only person that he believed had ever truly loved him, who had completely known him and loved him anyway. That was the fear that was written so clearly on Robert's face. Didn't it say something about the relationship between Robert and her brother that that fear was still so present, was clawing and tearing at Robert's nerves to this day? Why didn't Robert know that Aaron loved him, that he wouldn't leave him no matter what? Why didn't he know? Why hadn't Aaron made sure that he knew? How long had Robert been walking a high wire, trying to avoid a single misstep that would send him toppling down down down? How long had this fear been taking its toll, doing its damage? Too long. For far too long, she realized as she looked at his chalky pallor. She needed to fix it. She needed to talk to Robert, to talk to Aaron, to force the two of them to talk to each other. She had so many things she needed to say, things she wished she'd made a point of saying long before this situation arose.She wanted to tell Robert that Aaron wasn't the only one that knew him, that loved him, for all his faults and flaws. He was her brother, just as much as Aaron was, her family. She wanted to tell him he kept he going, kept her happy, kept her strong for all those weeks Aaron was locked up in prison. She wanted to tell him that he was the only person that could always, no matter her mood, make her smile and laugh and feel like herself again.And, more than anything, she wanted to make that fear in his heart that was always, always there, but that flared up so intensely following Aaron's sharp reprimand, disappear. Because Robert didn't deserve to feel afraid. He didn't deserve to have any doubt in his mind that they, that she and Vic and Chas and Aaron, thought he was worth staying for.END of CHAPTER 23 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 24 : He's always put you first“He’s just worrying over stupid things.” Aaron interrupted in a falsely cheery voice that contrasted sharply with the sadness in his eyes. Robert closed his mouth, his brows pulling together and his gaze falling. “Everything’s fine.” Chas felt her eyes go wide, felt the way her entire body stiffened and she leaned away from her son in surprise. And then she looked at Robert, expecting to see him with fury in his eyes and a nasty retort on his tongue. But he looked small. In fact, he'd never looked smaller. And whatever words he'd been trying to say when Aaron had cut him off, he seemed to no longer be capable of forcing them out of his mouth.It was a strange reaction.Even stranger was the interaction as a whole. Because Chas had always thought that Robert was the one in their relationship that was, for the most part, in charge. He looked after Aaron's needs, knew how to comfort him when tainted childhood memories resurfaced and plague her son, knew how to make Aaron smile, no matter what mood he was in. Robert was the one making plans for the two of them, taking care of their finances, substituting in to look after Liv when Aaron's couldn't. She'd always seen him as the one holding the power in the relationship. It's why she blamed Robert so easily whenever something went wrong. He was the one responsible for Aaron, for Aaron being upset, for what Aaron did while he was upset. It was her go-to assumption. But what she had just witnessed suggested that, perhaps, she'd thought wrong. And that was extremely confusing.Because it changed the way she looked at quite a few situations she'd previously very much blamed on Robert. Like Aaron going to prison. Sure, Aaron had done the actual punching that he was charged for, but he'd only done such a reckless thing, only lost his temper to such a degree, because Robert had upset him beforehand by breaking up with him. She'd thought of it as cause and effect: Robert upsets Aaron and Aaron gets himself thrown in prison. But now she's remembering, as if a once blurry, out of the way thought was suddenly clear and creeping into her line of sight, that Robert had broken up with Aaron… for a reason. Robert had broken things off because Aaron couldn't trust him. He couldn’t trust that Robert would be faithful despite all the time he was spending with Rebecca. No matter how many times Robert told him he loved him and wouldn't cheat, Aaron had been insecure and unable to fully trust and, as a result, had acted jealous and picked fights. Understandable, yes, but ultimately didn't the original issue, the problem that set things in motion, come from Aaron's end? It was difficult for her to admit. It made her want to make excuses for her son: Robert had already proved himself a cheater and Aaron had every right to be worried, she wanted to say. Aaron had a lot going on. It's hard for him to trust people. So many excuses.But, really, hadn't they both made mistakes? Hadn't Aaron made just as many? Was Robert really a screw up at all, or was everyone just quicker to judge and slower to forgive when it came to the cocky blonde? Aaron was her son. She had a blind spot when it came to him. But wasn't Robert her son in law? Wasn't he the person that made her boy happier than anything or anyone else ever had? So why did she always think the worst? Why did she always assign blame to him so quickly and thoughtlessly? Why didn't she realize sooner that he deserved to block out a blind spot of his own in her vision, that she should be backing him up too, seeing his perspective and trying to understand his worries and his fears.And, taking time to do that right now, she saw one fear plain as day on his face. He was scared of losing Aaron. Just now, when her son had said what he did, Robert had looked absolutely terrified and she'd realized that it wasn't just a normal fear; it was Robert's absolute worst nightmare. It was the thing that scared him most and the thing he'd least likely be able to recover from. But the terror she saw in his expression, it also told her something else. It told her that Robert seemed to think it wasn't within his power to make her son stay, not only that, but it was like he was expecting, at any moment, that Aaron would go, that his worst fear would be realized. And that confused her greatly. Aaron followed Robert around like a lost puppy during the early days. Robert kept him hanging on, kept manipulating him, kept pushing him away and then reeling him back in. He had all the power then.But their dynamic had changed, hadn't it?It wasn't like it had been at the beginning. Even when they first got back together, around the time everything with Gordon came to a head, Robert was much more careful and considerate of Aaron. Aaron was the one that kept breaking things off, that kept turning away.And then prison happened and Robert slept with Rebecca and she, herself... well she'd made it very clear that Robert would be coming clean and, very likely, losing Aaron for good. Then Aaron had ended things, when he found out about the cheating, had kicked Robert out, had probably said some... harsh words as he did. And now all Robert could do was wait, just wait, for the moment when Aaron left him again. Because Aaron was the one that had all the power, wasn't he?That's what she saw when Aaron said those words, cut across his husband's concerns, quieted him. That's what she saw when she looked at Robert and found only fear in his face.The tables had turned, probably a long time ago, and Aaron was the one with all the control, all the power, and Robert... she could see suddenly how helpless he felt, how out of his hands everything must feel. It made so much more sense now, his timidity, how careful he was, how cautious. And she felt the strange and somewhat shocking urge to give Robert Sugden a huge hug.Her son, though, didn't seem to be getting the same vibe. He was avoiding looking in Robert's direction, and she got the impression he didn't think his brush off earlier had nearly as much of an effect as it did. And she thought she might need to clue him in on that fact as soon as possible because he was doing damage he didn't even know about, damage his husband couldn't withstand.Just as she thought it, Aaron let out an audible sigh and finally turned his gaze on Robert. She watched his expression drop, watched him direct confused, worried eyes at Vic, watched his brow furrow at the angry expression on Vic's face. Chas felt herself nodding slightly. Vic had noticed. But Aaron still looked completely baffled as to why Robert had retreated back in on himself and Vic was glaring daggers. She sighed now, glancing to Liv, seeing the girl was frowning at Aaron as well. Her son could be a bit... imperceptive, but at least there were three other people in the room that did see, that could clue him in. Maybe it took an outsider's perspective, in a case like this, in a case where the dynamic of their relationship had undergone a sudden shift. Maybe Aaron was too close to see on his own.She cleared her throat. Aaron's eyes flicked to hers. "Aaron, love, come with me to get a cuppa." He glanced at Robert, who remained worryingly unresponsive. "Mum...""We'll only be gone for a bit. Give Liv and Vic some time, yeah?" Chas cut off his protest.He swallowed and nodded hesitantly, the crease between his brows not lessening. He got up and followed her out of the room. After walking for less than a minute down the hospital hallway, he spoke up, stopping in his tracks. "Mum, I don't want to go too far. Whatever it is, can we just talk about it here?""Sure, love, this should be far enough." She cocked her head, waiting for him to look at her and away from the door to Robert's room. He turned to her, impatient. "Mum, whatever it is-""Love, you need to be more careful with Robert." She came out with, interrupting him mid-sentence. His eyebrows flew up towards his hairline. "What-?""I don't know what you two were talking about before we came in, but, whatever it was, you can't just speak to him like that." Chas crossed her arms, waiting.Aaron gaped at her, completely stunned by the turn their hallway chat had taken. "What are you talking about? I didn't say anything-""You dismissed him. Right in front of all of us. Normally, I wouldn't worry about anyone offending Robert Sugden, ever, but, you must have noticed love, he's... really sensitive right now. He's scared he's going to upset you and you're going to leave him. It's written all over his face." She finished.Aaron continued to gape at her, fish mouthing for a few long moments before managing to output coherent speech. "I didn't... I didn't mean to..." He looked away from her and his eyes settled on the wall, shinier than they were before. "He keeps trying to get us all to go home and get some distance. He's worrying about what's going to happen to all of us when he… if he doesn’t…” He trailed off, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “He thinks if we get some space we won't be as affected by it. I just... I can't stand him talking like that, like he's not going to be here, like he's going to just give up. I hate it." He swallowed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I didn't mean to do that, to dismiss him like that, but I just wanted him to stop focusing on making sure Liv gets home in time to get some rest so she can go to fucking school tomorrow.” He gestured wildly with his hands, becoming more and more agitated. “She wants to be here. We all just want to be here to support him and he's trying to, like, protect us or some shit, but..." He shook his head, not meeting his mother's eyes. "Love," Chas reached out and grabbed Aaron's hand, squeezing it so he looked up at her. "Aaron, love, of course he's trying to protect you and Liv. That's what Robert does." Chas swallowed, closing her eyes for a moment, realizing she was speaking a truth she'd known deep down but ignored for far too long. "Robert... he’s always prioritized you and Liv above himself. This isn't new behavior, Aaron." "He's always put you first."END of CHAPTER 24 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 25 : I’ll go all in too"Robert... he’s always prioritized you and Liv above himself. This isn't new behavior, Aaron. He's always put you first." If there was anything Aaron had never expected to hear coming out of his mother’s mouth, it was this. Barely twelve hours ago, Chas had been head of the I-hate-Robert-Sugden fan club, and now, here she was, doing a complete 180 and defending him. It took him a moment just to shake the shock off, but then he was furrowing his eyebrows and asking in a mystified voice, “He’s always put me first, has he?” There was something in his tone, an element of disbelief, an indication that he believed the statement to be an exaggeration, a reach, and that got Chas’s hackles up. “Yes, Aaron.” She held his gaze, saying the words pointedly, hoping he’d actually hear them when she did. “Every single day since you officially got together, that man’s every thought and action has revolved around making sure you’re happy and safe and taken care of.” The crease between Aaron’s brows deepened and he openly gaped at his mother now. Chas shook her head in consternation, frustrated with her son for somehow not realizing just how much Robert actually did for him. “How is this news to you, Aaron? You’re the one who married him, the person that knows him best. You’re the one he overworks himself day in and day out to provide for. You’re the one he stayed with when your past and your cutting came to light. You’re the one he stuck by when you beat a man half to death, got sent to prison, and left him alone to take care of Liv and me and the scrapyard and everyone and everything else that was supposed to be your responsibility. You’re the one he refused to abandon and nearly drowned to death for. God, Aaron…” “Don’t you have eyes?” Aaron just stared at her, his heart beating unevenly in his chest, as her words bounced around his skull. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten Robert had done any one of those things for him because he hadn’t. But having them all laid out together like that, having them listed for him, it made his hands tremble, made his palms sweat, because that was too much, was far too much for any one person to do for another, even by a saint’s standards.And Robert had done all of that, and more, for him. Yet, despite knowing that, the idea in his head that he had of Robert was different. The Robert in his head made a lot of mistakes and could be a bit of an ass and had done and said a lot of things to hurt him in the past. Robert Sugden was no saint. He loved the man til death do they part, but he was far from perfect. He never thought he'd have to tell Chas that, never thought she would be the one looking at Robert through rose-colored glasses. But he felt himself start to get strangely defensive at her words, like he needed to explain to her why he talked to Robert in the way he had, why he treated Robert the way he did. "I have a long memory, mum. He's done, God, he's done so much for me. I know that. He's also done a lot of harm, to me and to a ton of other people. He's... he's selfish and proud and money-obsessed and he used to be a pretty awful person. So, as much as I'm glad you've started to see the good in my husband, don't get carried away, okay." Chas's eyes narrowed. He huffed, seeing that nothing he said was changing her mind. "You and Vic don't get to suddenly get all judgmental about how I talk to him. You're making it sound like I... like I'm..." Chas was watching him, her head tilted and one eyebrow raised as she waited. He trailed off, swallowing loudly, his confidence in his own words waning. "I'm not... I don't belittle him or dismiss him or anything like that. I just, after all the times he's hurt me, I have to be... I have to be firm about what I want and I have to be really clear about what I don't like. I can't just let him walk all over me like he used to. That's all. I'm just protecting myself." He blew out a breath, waiting for Chas's rebuttal and looking down the hallway instead of at her. Silence followed, a silence that was far too long and uncomfortable. He finally turned to look at her. Chas's expression was grim and she seemed very unhappy with him. "Aaron, when is the last time Robert Sugden did something to intentionally hurt you?"Aaron paused, thinking, then shrugged. "I don't know. He did things to hurt me all the time during the affair.""And since then? Since you've been together?" Chas asked him, trying to help him get there on his own.Aaron shrugged, getting uncomfortable now. "Well... not on purpose. But you know him, he comes up with these crazy schemes and doesn't think about the consequences-"Chas huffed in annoyance. "Oh, Aaron, I know I've made plenty of hypocritical remarks in my day, but, love, you can't be seriously saying that."Aaron's brow furrowed. "What are you-?""You just got out of prison for beating someone up because you didn't stop to think about the consequences." Aaron opened his mouth to argue. "Before that you broke into the White's house and didn't think about the consequences. You kidnapped Lachlan and stuffed him in the boot of your car and I don't think you were doing much thinking then either." Aaron shifted uncomfortably. "And let's not even start on your criminal past because this is meant to be a quick chat, not an inquisition." "It doesn't change the fact that he's hurt me, mum." Aaron answered, scandalized."No, but the last time he hurt you on purpose was when the two of you were caught up in an affair and he didn't know who the hell he was." Aaron's brow furrowed. Chas continued, speaking slowly so the words could sink in. "He's changed so much since then. That's why you got back together with him, why you let him back into your life, isn't it? Because he changed, because he grew into a better man than he was when he did all those things that hurt you?" She watched Aaron swallow and his eyes go unfocused as the gears turned inside his head, pausing until he refocused on her. "He's not that man anymore, Aaron. He's not the man that was afraid to come out, the man that was so worried about what people thought of him, that he went through with marrying a woman he didn't love to hide who he was. But now... now he's just proud, proud of his life with you and Liv. He's so different; he's grown so so much. But you... you're still treating him like he's that guy that hurt you, still punishing him for what he did back then. You say you're protecting yourself, love, but don't you get that you're not the one that needs protecting anymore. Your relationship is so different than it was during the affair. You have all the power, Aaron; you have all the control.""And, Aaron, now you're the one doing all the hurting." She watched Aaron's face pale at her words."I'm not... I would never hurt him, mum. And I'm not trying to punish him. Don't... God, please don't say that. I love him. I wouldn't-" His eyes were tearing up and his breathing was increasing in speed as he worked himself into a panic. He shook his head in agitated denial, not wanting to believe that he'd been the one doing all the damage he'd seen manifest itself in Robert's current behavior. "Love, stop it. Calm down." Chas wrapped her arms around her son, rubbing his back comfortingly as he tried to calm his breathing. "I didn't call you out here to point fingers and assign blame. I saw something in there, something I'd never noticed before, and it made me realize that I've been blaming Robert for quite a few things, things that have happened to you, and I was doing that because I thought your relationship hadn't changed. I thought he was the same Robert he was at the beginning; I thought he was making all the decisions and manipulating what you did and what you felt. But, just now, in that room I saw that I've been blind to all the changes in him and, thinking back, I've been blind for a long, long time. I've been ignoring what's been in front of my face because it was easier to hate than to forgive and learn to trust him. But that was wrong of me, because he's done more than enough to prove he's different now, more than enough to earn my trust and more than enough to earn yours." Aaron shook in her arms, realization dawning in waves. "You didn't see it; you didn't realize you were still holding on to old fears and old expectations. That's okay, love. You're not perfect." She pulled back now so she could hold Aaron's watery gaze. "But Aaron, you can't afford to be ignorant any longer. You can't afford to leave any doubt in Robert's mind that you love him and you're in this for the long haul. You can't afford to shoot down his fears and dismiss him when he tries to tell you what he's feeling because every time you do, you're sending him the message that his thoughts and his worries are invalid, that they don't matter to you. You're reinforcing every negative thought he's every had about being a screw up, about him not being good enough." Aaron closed his eyes, horrified. His mind flashed back to that day when the two of them were in the car and they'd pulled over to the side of the road, Robert jumping out of the vehicle and him following close behind. He'd followed Robert as he wove between trees, eventually plopping down with a weary sigh under the tree-cover. And that's when he'd heard Robert's tearful confession, how he'd never been good enough for his dad, how Jack hadn't wanted a son like him, how he'd been belted for being with a boy. He remembered telling Robert that he was good enough, he was. And he remembered promising himself that he'd make sure no one ever made Robert feel that way again.Only he'd clearly broken that promise. He'd gone and done the same thing as Jack, made his husband feel worthless, like a failure, like he could never, no matter how hard he tried, ever measure up, ever be good enough. He could see it now, every moment he'd driven the message home even further. You've got so much to make up for. You've done so much wrong. You've hurt so many people. And even after Robert had made a thousand positive changes, grown in a thousand different ways into a better man, he'd kept giving him the same message. You've got so much to make up for. You've done so much wrong. You've hurt so many people. No matter what his husband did, no matter how hard he worked to be better, he'd never stopped looking at him with suspicious eyes, never stopped questioning his motives and his morals at every turn. He'd stayed judgmental and cynical and, in his own mind, ethically superior. He'd left Robert feeling like he hadn't done enough, like he hadn't made amends for his past actions, like he still had something to prove to him. "Aaron?" Chas was asking him, shaking him slightly by the shoulder, waiting for the faraway look in his eyes to clear. "Do you hear me, Aaron? Do you understand? You can't have one foot out the door anymore, love. You can't protect yourself from heartbreak and from pain at Robert's expense. You have to commit, go all in, and make sure he knows that you are. That's the only way you'll be able to help him through this, the only way he'll ever be able to trust you, to lean on you for support. I don't think Robert's strong enough to win this fight on his own; he needs you. And that's why, you need to step up, to make changes of your own, to make changes for him now. Because, Aaron, he won't make it through this if you don't."Aaron clenched his fists and blinked the last of his tears away. "You're right. I can't believe I didn't see, can't believe that I've been hurting him all this time and he's stayed with me anyway. I didn’t even realize I… a part of me was still waiting for him to make a mistake or to get tired of me and I’ve been holding that part of myself back, so I wouldn’t be completely heartbroken when it ended. I’ve been half in, half out this whole time while he… he’s been all in.” He scrubbed his face. “And it didn’t even work. I was devastated when I thought he cheated; I didn’t protect myself at all. All I managed to do was make the man I love feel completely unsupported, like I didn’t trust him, like I was a second from walking out the door.” He ran a hand roughly through his hair, looking at Chas with wide eyes. “How am I supposed to fix this? How am I supposed to make that up to him?”Chas gave him a weak smile. “You change. You treat him better. It’ll take time; you’ll have to work at it, but, if you really love him, you’ll put in the effort and you’ll make it work.”Aaron grabbed her hand, tearful one more. “Thank you for pulling me out of there and putting me right.” He stared unseeingly at the hospital walls, thinking. “I…” He bit his lip. “I do love him. I love him so much and I haven’t been acting like it, but I… I do.” He swallowed. “I’ll change. I’ll fix it; I’ll spend the rest of my life fixing it if I have to.” He turned to look at the door to Robert’s room down the hallway. “I’ll go all in too.”END of CHAPTER 25 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 26 : He hated it“He didn’t mean it.” Liv spat the words out, as soon as the door had closed behind Aaron and Chas. Robert startled slightly at her abruptness, making the first eye contact he’d made in ages out of sheer surprise. “What?”“Aaron.” Liv blinked at him earnestly. Robert’s brow furrowed. “He was just being a grumpy git when he said that. He doesn’t really think it doesn’t matter. He’s just stressed and you know how he bottles things when he’s stressed. He didn’t meant it.” Robert gaped at her, his brain, still fuzzy from the various medications in his system, having trouble keeping up with the rapid rate at which Liv was outputting speech. Finally, his lumbering mind seemed to catch up and he mumbled out hesitantly, “No, he… he was right… it wasn’t really my place to tell him what to do. I got carried away a bit.”“Robert…” Vic cut in, gnashing her teeth together and seeming strangely angry. “The two of you are in a relationship; you have every right to tell him what’s worrying you, what you’re feeling.” Her hands clenched into fists on her lap. “And Aaron doesn’t get to talk to you that way.”Robert frowned, feeling the need to defend his husband. “I… no, Vic, you don’t understand…” He swallowed nervously, peeking at Liv, who he was surprised to find was not jumping to her brother’s defense. “I was worrying about the late hour and Liv missing school tomorrow.” Liv’s brow furrowed. “I was telling Aaron that he should take you home so you wouldn’t be tired and I… I just… sometimes I forget… I think of you like a sister and daughter rolled into one, but I’m not actually… sometimes I forget that I’m not actually your guardian. Aaron is and I… I overstepped, telling him how to take care of you-“Liv stared at him, her eyes welling up with emotion at the same time her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “But you are.” Fell from her lips. Robert stopped talking, looking at her with questions in his eyes, questions she didn’t want to be there. “You are my guardian, just as much as Aaron is. You took care of me the whole time he was in prison; you could have sent me away, but you didn’t.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “You forgave me when I tried to get you arrested and you stood up for me when I was getting bullied.” She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “You help me with my homework and bug me about going to school in the mornings. And you always know exactly what to say to make me feel better, even if everything’s shit.” Robert’s eyes took on a shiny quality. “You are my guardian. I don’t care about the legal stuff saying different.” She swallowed. “I don’t know why Aaron got like that, but it wasn’t for the reason you think. Really… he’s just stressed and grumpy and… if he really did get mad about that then he’s an idiot and I’ll talk to him. You know how he’s sort of stupid, sometimes, when he’s trying to deal with a lot of emotional stuff at once. I’ll talk to him. He was wrong, not you.”Robert stared at her, stunned, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest. “Liv…” He said, choking up with emotion. Vic seemed temporarily pacified, her anger reigned in and a small, satisfied smile overtaking her face. It seemed like she wasn’t the only one looking out for Robert and that gave her some peace of mind. Liv smiled, looking down at her lap, embarrassed but glad she’d managed to say the words she wanted Robert to hear. A calm silence settled over them, Robert blinking back tears, trying very hard not to cry like a sap. But it just meant a lot to him, to hear that from the girl he considered family, to hear that she loved him too, that she wanted him in her life. And it made him waver in his decision to leave more than anything else had. He didn’t want his loved ones to have to suffer through his illness, but he didn’t want to leave them and give them lifelong abandonment issues either. No one knew better than him that being left by someone you love (or in his case told to leave and never come back by someone you love) could leave wounds that festered long into adulthood. He didn’t know what to do, what the right thing was. Not anymore. * * Aaron came back into the room, eyes weary and worried as he looked over at Robert, trying to assess the degree of damage he had done. To his surprise, his husband seemed much less withdrawn than when he’d left. And there seemed to be some kind of silent conversation happening between Liv and his mother. He wondered if Liv was upset with him for the way he’d talked to Robert too. He sighed. It wouldn’t surprise him if she was. If his mother had noticed as much as she had, there was no way Liv, who loved Robert like a brother, hadn’t. He definitely wasn’t confused about why Vic was glaring daggers anymore. Who knows what she thought of him after that display.He swallowed, retaking his seat at Robert’s bedside. He felt weighed down with guilt, heavy with obligation. How did he even begin to make amends for his behavior, behavior he had been taking part in for such a long span of time, behavior that had become the norm for him, that had become automatic. He looked at Robert now and saw a different man, saw the man Chas had described. Robert was scared and unsure and being far, far too careful. He didn’t want him to feel like that, to feel like he had to filter his thoughts and walk on egg shells in order to keep his family. The insecurity was so deeply ingrained in him, so constant. And he had no idea how to go about fixing that. “Rob-“ Aaron started, only to be cut off by Vic.“Let’s just lay off my brother, for a while, how about that?” Vic said in a sickly-sweet voice, her glare laser-focused on Aaron as she spoke. Aaron bit his lip, peering into her angry face and nodding after a short pause. Robert looked nervously between them, scratching agitatedly at the bandages around his head. In a flash of movement, Aaron caught his wrist before he could mess with them too much. “Don’t. You’ll hurt yourself.” Robert blinked in surprise at the soft expression on his husband’s face. “Everything’s fine.” Aaron breathed, rubbing soothing circles into his hand. And suddenly, Robert felt exponentially calmer, his tiredness returning as the nerves retreated, and his eyelids drooped under their own weight. He looked once more around his room with slow blinks and noticed Chas and Liv both seemed to have the ghost of a smile on their lips. He wondered why. * * Everyone slept in Robert’s hospital room that night. The nursing staff were loath to separate the recently reunited family and decided to let them be. So they stayed. When the doctor came by the next morning to examine Robert again, she suggested the family go get something to eat while she conducted her exam and went over Robert’s treatment plan with him. Aaron told them to go without him and stayed. He held Robert’s hand while the doctor unwrapped the bandages and examined the wound site, asked Robert about his pain levels, and checked his eye movements. “Okay, Robert, everything’s healing nicely.” The doctor stowed her flashlight and pulled up a chair so she could talk to the couple. “Now we talked briefly when you came out of surgery, but I’ll go over everything again since you were a bit groggy then. Are you alright with your husband being here while we talk?” She asked lightly. Robert glanced at Aaron before mumbling quietly. “Of course.” Aaron felt his shoulders sag in relief. For a second, he’d thought Robert was going to ask him to leave. He wasn’t sure what his husband was thinking, was feeling, especially when it came to him. He didn’t know where they stood after his illuminating conversation with his mother, wasn’t sure if fear and insecurity were the only emotions Robert was dealing with. What if he was angry? What if he was fed up with being treated so badly for so long? What if he decided he was better off without him, better off with someone that would treat him as an equal, that would love him and trust him and believe in him? What if Aaron had realized the error of his ways too late? Shaking his head to clear it of the disturbing thoughts, he focused on the doctor and what she was saying, catching the tail end.“… radiotherapy and chemo. There’s also a clinical trial using a really promising targeted therapy that I can recommend you for. I’ll get the literature to you so you can make an informed decision about whether or not you’d like to participate in the trial and you understand the risks involved.” She smiled at Robert comfortingly. “The surgery was very successful and it’s possible we’ll be able to shrink the remaining tumors and you could go into remission. But, because the tumors were exhibiting such rapid growth, I don’t think we should wait to start treatment. If you prove receptive to this, we might not have to operate again, either, but we need to find out as soon as possible whether this treatment will work for you so that, if it doesn’t, we can look into alternatives. The clinical study I mentioned would be one of those alternatives, but I’d like you to read up on it now and let me know your thoughts because there’s a waiting list and the sooner I can get you on it, the better your chances of getting into the study are. If chemo and radiotherapy aren’t doing the job, the clinical trial will be your best shot.” Aaron’s mouth was downturned in a worried frown and he looked paler than usual, but Robert found himself clutching onto his hand tightly, taking whatever comfort he could. He knew he’d been selfish to ask Aaron to stay, to make him listen to this.But he was so scared and he needed him there. The future was one big question mark. Even if chemo and radiotherapy worked and he didn’t have to take part in any experimental medical trials, he’d still be very sick for months and that was the best case scenario. He didn’t feel optimistic at all. This felt like the beginning of the end for him, like the first few steps of his death march. His time felt so finite, like there was a countdown ticking towards its conclusion in his head. He was going to die. He knew he was going to die. He was going to-“Robert!” Aaron shouted in his face, eyes glistening wet, hands extended towards him but not touching him. And that’s when Robert noticed that his chest was heaving with rapid, jerky breaths and his head was spinning and his ears were ringing and everything was too much, far, far too much and then the ringing stopped and there was no sound at all and his hands were shaking and he couldn’t remember how to breathe and why- why did his chest feel so tight and why was Aaron crying and what was that uncomfortable feeling in his gut? And why couldn’t he breathe? The doctor was talking to him, but he couldn’t hear her. Why couldn’t he hear her? His eyes felt stretched wide and his panic intensified as he looked back and forth between Aaron and the doctor, saw their mouths moving, but heard no sound at all. It felt like cotton was stuffed in his ears. His fingers felt cold. His head felt light. What was going-? * * Tears rolled down Aaron’s cheeks. When Robert fainted, his eyes rolling back into his skull, his body slumping in his bed, Aaron had never felt more helpless. He’d watched as the panic swirled behind his husband’s eyes, watched him struggle to breath, watched his hands shake and the color drain from his face. And he couldn’t help. Not at all.He didn’t know what to do. He’d stood there yelling at Robert to breathe, that he was there, that everything would be okay. But nothing had worked, nothing had helped. Robert had just kept spiraling, had hyperventilated to the point of passing out. He’d looked so terrified.And Aaron hated that.He hated that his husband, his strong, brash, brazen, confident, cocky husband had been reduced to this. His Robert, the Robert he loved more than anything, the Robert that had done all those amazing, brave things that Chas had reminded him of, was being crushed under the overwhelming weight of uncertainty about his health and his family and his future. He hated it.END of CHAPTER 26 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 27 : You’re worth itWhen his eyes flickered open, Robert found himself alone. The door to his room was ajar and he could hear his doctor’s voice rumbling in from the hallway.“…just a panic attack. It’s not unheard of for patients to experience panic attacks following surgery. The amygdala is a region in the brain that controls the fight or flight response. Any trauma to the brain, and no matter how good of a job a surgeon does there is always some trauma to the brain during surgery, can result in chemical changes, inflammation, even psychological trauma. This isn’t something that is necessarily permanent; any inflammation due to the surgery won’t have completely calmed down yet so, after it does, we might see that this never happens again. Alternatively, I told you there may be some changes, some behavioral changes, and this might be one of them. There have been instances where people have been diagnosed with panic disorders after being operated on and they’re manageable, but sometimes they do have a lasting impact on a person’s life.” Robert closed his eyes. Is that what that was? He’d had a panic attack? Just because of the doctor talking to him about treatment options? He didn’t understand. It wasn’t like him at all. Usually, he was calm under pressure, cool-headed no matter the situation. He’d been clear and focused and hadn’t panicked even in the most dire of circumstances. That’s why he’d been able to save Aaron from drowning in a sinking car. That’s why he was able to get Aaron to the hospital in time the day he’d cut himself to ribbons and collapsed at the scrapyard. Now, suddenly, he couldn’t even handle a tough conversation, couldn’t stop himself from being reduced to a panicking mess after just a few multisyllabic words dropped by his doctor?What good was he now?He’d be sick and helpless for who knows how long, dealing with who knows what symptoms, and, to top it all off, exhibiting signs of various neuroses such as the sudden onset of inexplicable panic for no particular reason. He was such a disaster. He kept ping-ponging back and forth. Should he stay? Should he leave? What was the right thing to do? How did he do right by his family? If he didn’t get away from the people he loved, he’d inevitably wreak havoc on their lives, bring destruction and ruin. Just like he always did. Just like it was in his very nature to do. So didn’t that mean he needed to go, to follow through on his original promise? Because if he stayed… he’d hurt them. Inevitably, he’d cause them pain. And as big of a screw up as he was, as much of a disappointment as he’d always managed to be, he was at a crossroads, a critical decision point, and he couldn’t, he just couldn’t, get this wrong. * * The doctor had just dropped a bomb on him. On them. Another one. But through his now ever present worry and gut-twisting fear, he was starting to see his options laid out clearly before him, his previously shell shocked mind becoming focused instead of frozen. He didn’t want to be helpless to help. He didn’t want to have to just watch while his husband struggled. He wanted to be able to do something, anything, to make it better, to make it easier for Robert. “How do I help him?” was the first question out of Aaron’s mouth. “If he has another episode like that, what do I do to help him?” The doctor smiled at him. “You talk to him, try to get him to focus on the things around him, to be present in the moment. Get him to concentrate on his individual senses so he can get out of his own head.” She paused. “Sometimes, when a person has a panic attack, they can experience temporary deafness. Based on Robert’s lack of response to anything we said during his episode, that might be what happened to him. If this is a recurring issue, it would be beneficial for the two of you to decide on some nonverbal cues so you can still communicate with Robert during an attack and coach him through the panic. You could employ some basic signs. Counting breaths is often a useful tool in calming down a person and that is something you can easily do nonverbally.” The doctor reached out and patted Aaron’s arm comfortingly. “This is manageable, I promise.” Aaron nodded, determination thrumming through his veins. Robert had always been there for him when he needed help. Now it was his turn to return the favor, to support and love Robert in return.Like he should have been doing all along. * * Aaron walked back into the room to find Robert awake, his eyes downcast in shame, as if he’d done something wrong. “Hey, none of that.” Aaron spoke softly and Robert looked up at him with sad eyes. “Did you hear what the doctor said in the hallway?” Robert gave the smallest of nods. “Then you know this is normal. It happens sometimes, after surgery. It’s not something you have control over, babe. You have nothing to be looking so sorry about.” Robert sighed against Aaron’s hand as it smoothed the frown lines between his brows, still not saying anything, still lost in his thoughts. “Babe, seriously, we can handle this.” Still nothing. Aaron shifted in his seat, leveling his gaze at Robert’s conflicted expression, trying to draw him back into the present. “Can you talk to me about what scared you before?”Robert sighed again, swallowing against the embarrassment. “It’s stupid…” He said, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. “No.” Aaron told him. “It’s not.” He waited.“You’ll be mad.” Robert whispered, looking away.Aaron frowned. He was such an idiot. He reached out and squeezed Robert’s hand. “I won’t.” His voice was choked up. “I won’t be mad, I promise. You can talk to me. You can always talk to me.”Robert paused, his hands shaking with nerves. He didn’t want to upset his husband, to cause him any more pain or sadness. But Aaron was asking him to talk and he could never say no to Aaron. “I… I feel like a burden.” Aaron opened his mouth to contradict that immediately, but Robert kept talking. “I never deserved you. You’re too good and I’m…” He swallowed and Aaron watched him continue with sad eyes. “But I thought if I worked hard to provide for you, if I took care of you the best I could, if I protected you with everything I had, then maybe it might be okay for me to stay with you.” Tears collected in Aaron’s eyes. “But now I’m sick and I’m probably going to die and I can’t take care of you anymore. I’m weak and useless and…” Robert looked up at the ceiling with shiny eyes and shook his head. “You’d be so much better off without me; you’d be so much better off walking away.” Aaron squeezed his hand, tears escaping and running down his cheeks. “I’ve been so unfair to you.” He choked on the words, hating how true they were. “You don’t have to do anything to prove your good enough. You already are.” Aaron scrubbed his face with rough, jerky movements. He let his hands fall and peered at Robert with a plea is his eyes, a plea for his husband to read his honesty, his absolute sincerity. “And you do deserve good things, Rob. You’ve done so much for me, for my family. You’ve loved me unconditionally and stood by me through every hardship. You mean the world to me and I’ve done a poor job of showing you that but… you do. I love you so much and I… I think that’s why I’ve been so scared, deep down, to fully believe this could last, to really commit all the way by believing you wouldn’t get tired and walk away from me or… or do something I couldn’t find a way to forgive your for.” Robert flinched at that, feeling like Aaron had plucked the fear right from his own mind. Yes, it was only a question of when, not if he would screw up. Aaron knew that better than anyone. But, somehow, hearing the words made Robert want to sink into the ground and disappear.Aaron watched his husband’s shoulders slump as he spoke and realized that Robert had been well aware of all of this from the beginning. He’d known this whole time that Aaron had a foot out the door, that he was waiting for things to end, that he was expecting them to. That’s where his fears, his insecurities, all of it, that’s where it stemmed from. From him. Aaron swallowed back yet another wave of regret as it washed over him. “But that wasn’t fair of me. It wasn’t just unfair… it was wrong of me, dishonest of me.” Aaron looked down at his lap. “Because you put everything you had into loving me, into fighting for our life together and I should have been doing the same.” He shook his head sadly. “Things haven’t been equal between us; I’ve been… and I didn’t really realize until it was pointed out to me, but I’ve been holding myself back, judging you based on who you used to be instead of who you’d become. But you’ve changed, Robert. You’re not that man who hurt me anymore. You’ve done more than enough to show me that, to earn my trust and my love and… and you deserve a whole-hearted commitment.” Robert stared down at his lap, looking like it was taking everything he had not to cry. Was this it? Was Aaron about to tell him that he deserved all the best, but he just couldn’t love him back, couldn’t trust him enough to do so? Was this Aaron telling him he was walking away? Aaron took a deep breath. Robert waited for the axe to fall. Then Aaron spoke. “And I really want to be the one to give that to you.” Robert blinked. What? “I know I messed up, Rob. I treated you so badly and I don’t know if I can ever make up for that, but will you please let me try? No more holding back. No more excuses. No more threatening to leave when things get tough. Will you give me a second chance to love you right, to love you fully?”Robert blinked in astonishment at Aaron, his mouth gaping open. “Aaron…” He whispered the name with reverence. “You haven’t… you haven’t done anything wrong. I understand why you couldn’t trust me. I’ve given you so many reasons not to—““You’ve earned my trust in spades, Rob. And all those reasons are from a long time ago. You were still struggling, with who you were and who other people thought you were. It’s not fair for me to judge you for the mistakes you made then, to keep holding them against you for the rest of your life.” Aaron told him firmly.Robert fish-mouthed, not knowing how to process this vote of confidence, this onslaught of reassurance that he wasn’t actually the despicable scum bag he thought he was. From Aaron. He didn’t think he’d ever had someone believe in him like this, had someone like what they found beneath his prickly exterior. He’d never had someone love him for who he was before.It was strange, but it made the pin-pricks needling his brain with worries and fears calm into something softer, something manageable. And he had to know if Aaron really meant it, if he’d really had a change of perspective, if this new insight, this new acceptance, would last. “I’m still a mess, Aaron. I still make the wrong choices. I still screw up on a daily basis. I may have changed, but I’m still me. There are still so many things, so many issues still affecting me, affecting how I act, affecting the way I… process things.” Robert’s brow crinkled and his eyes got a faraway look in them. “I don’t know if I deserve your trust and I really don’t want to hurt you. I’m scared. I’m scared you’ll go all in and I’ll screw it up and you won’t be able to recover. I don’t want to cause you anymore pain…”Aaron gave him a sad smile. “We all screw up, Rob. Not just you. I mess up just as often and just as badly, worse even. And, hell, you’ve got baggage? Robert, I’ve got a shitload of baggage and, from day one, you’ve been helping me carry it all, helping me deal with it.” He reached out and took Robert’s face in his hands. “You don’t have to shoulder everything on your own, babe, not anymore. Let me in, let me help. Give me a second chance to do this right, to get us right. I might get hurt and, yes, that’s scary. But the risk is worth it. It’s so worth it.”“You’re worth it.”END of CHAPTER ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 28 : For them“You don’t have to shoulder everything on your own, babe, not anymore. Let me in, let me help. Give me a second chance to do this right, to get us right. I might get hurt and, yes, that’s scary. But the risk is worth it. It’s so worth it.”“You’re worth it.” The words were everything Robert had wanted to hear all his life, that he was worth something, that he really, truly mattered to another person. They were like a balm, easing the pain and healing the scars marring his battered soul. Aaron really loved him, really wanted him forever. There was a real promise of commitment in his husband’s eyes now, a promise to stay and fight and forgive, to not run out on him or give up on their relationship, no matter what might happen. No matter what, Aaron was going to stay. Robert wasn’t the only one fighting for them anymore; now his other half had taken up the mantle. It was like a huge load had been taken off his shoulders. He didn’t have to be perfect anymore. He didn’t have to be afraid that Aaron would leave him if he made a mistake, if he said the wrong thing. It was the most comforting feeling in the world. He might really get to keep them. Aaron and Liv. His family. He might really be allowed to keep them forever. When Robert refocused, Aaron was gazing at him, biting his lip nervously. “Rob, I… I haven’t been the husband you deserve. I broke so many promises and I…” Aaron’s eyes teared up, his voice coming out choked. “I hurt you… physically and emotionally. I’m so sorry, for everything I’ve put you through, for not being there for you the way I should have, for not showing you how much I loved you and letting you believe, all this time, that I wasn’t going to stay.” He closed his eyes and Robert watched his face carefully. “I’m done with that now, though. I’m done hiding my heart away; I’m done being half-way committed. I love you and I’ll be here, at your side, for the rest of the time we have, whether it’s days or months or years.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “If you’ll let me, I’ll stay for you and I’ll fight for you, and I won’t hold a single piece of myself back. I’ll give you everything I have.” Aaron swallowed, sucking in a shallow breath before asking, “So, will you give me another chance, Robert?” He asked, his voice small now, his eyes beseeching.The room was still with silence for a long moment, Robert staring into Aaron’s face, reading the uncompromising sincerity behind his eyes. And then he breathed out the breath he’d been holding, the tension draining from his frame.“Okay.” Robert sighed, relief dripping from his voice. He brought his own hand up to cup Aaron’s where it rested against his face. He blinked at the water buildup in his eyes. “I’d give you a million second chances if you asked me.”Aaron’s smile drooped, regret stinging him sharply. “I know you would.” He sucked in a pained breath, choking out his words. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He wrapped his arms around Robert, pulling him into his chest and holding him tightly. “I’ll do better, I promise you.” He whispered. “I promise.”Robert clung onto him, feeling more secure than he ever had in his entire life. This was real. He could believe in this, in them. In Aaron.He could believe in something. Finally. * * To say there was a difference in the atmosphere of the room when they walked in, would be a huge understatement. It was as if the tension had been drained completely from the two men now sitting and laughing and smiling with wide grins at each other. There was a lightness that had been absent before, an element of hope permeating the air. Even Vic, whose eyes still flicked over to Aaron with lingering suspicion, wore the semblance of a smile as she walked inside to find the two men looking actually happy for the first time since all of this had started.Chas received a beyond grateful look from her son who nodded in thanks when their eyes met. Then he turned back to Robert, focusing whole-heartedly on his husband again. She felt her heart warm at the expression on her son’s face; he’d never looked so at peace. And then there was Robert, the spark behind his eyes crackling fiercely once more, his will to survive, to fight, reignited.They’d turned a corner. She could feel it.Liv jumped into Aaron and Robert’s conversation, finding her place easily between them, feeling like her family had finally been restored. Not to normal, because, looking back, she wasn’t so sure their previous version of normal had been healthy, with all the doubt and the back and forth and the mistrust. It was better than before, more stable, more right and light and comfortable. Aaron and Robert seemed to be feeling the difference too, reveling in it even. It seemed like they’d finally worked through what had been holding them both back before, what had been making them scared.She was so glad that they had. * * The doctor came back in to finish talking to Robert about treatment, not mentioning his previous panic attack in front of Liv, Chas, and Vic, for which he was grateful. She also brought some paperwork with her, information on clinical trials and lots of things for him to sign. At the end of all that, she introduced the room to a portly nurse who set Robert up with an IV and administered his first round of chemo. “Alright, you’re all set up. Now you’ll need to keep the IV in for the next hour and a half to complete your first treatment. Press the call button if you experience any discomfort or you need anything, okay.” She left with a friendly smile. Robert peered down at the line inserted into his hand, gulping. It was starting. Liv patted his ankle gently and he felt Aaron’s hand grasp his arm, comforting him. He looked up into his husband’s blue eyes. He could do this. He could survive this.For them.END of CHAPTER 28 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 29 : OkayLeaving the hospital was like a breath of fresh air for all of them. So much had happened while they’d been in there, so much had changed, that Robert, Liv, and Aaron couldn’t help but feel that they were different people walking out than they had been when they’d walked in. They’d all just undergone a rapid spurt of growth and become a happier, more stable family unit. Robert still had a lot of fighting to do to beat his illness, but he felt less overwhelmed by it now, like he could rely on Aaron and Liv and Vic and Chas to shoulder some of the burden. He felt lighter, the crippling fear of abandonment he’d dealt with all his life not so crippling anymore, not after his talk with Liv and then with Aaron. He was a member of this family, one third of the messed up forever they’d built. He was loved, really truly loved.And he could feel it now. He could feel how it radiated off of Aaron and Liv in waves. Every time they spoke to him with care or looked at him with soft eyes, every time they held his hand when a tough conversation topic came up or fussed with his blankets or his clothes, he felt it. He’d never seen Aaron be so open, so honest before. It was like the last wall between them, the toughest, tallest of them all, had finally come tumbling down and he was looking at the real Aaron now, all pretenses dropped. He wasn’t going to be abandoned. They were going to stick with him, fight for him. And he was determined, so determined, to live through this, to stay and fight and win, so that everything they were putting on the line for him wouldn’t be in vain. He wasn’t going to leave them. He wasn’t going to run and he wasn’t going to die. He was going to live. * * * When they arrived back at the Mill, Aaron could tell Robert was tired. He’d just had his first round of chemo, he was still recovering from surgery, and he was also on a smorgasbord of medications, none of which any of them could pronounce the name of. So, his husband was exhausted easily by the trip out of the hospital, into the car, and then into the Mill. He fretted a bit overtly, earning smirks from both Liv and Robert as they watched him flap around clearing the mess and searching for a blanket so he could get Robert comfortably situated on the sofa. Liv stuck by Robert’s side, taking some of his weight and keeping him from wobbling too much until Aaron had successfully removed all of the debris from and around the couch. They then both helped Robert trudge over, noting his drooping eyelids and bracing in case he tripped over his own uncoordinated feet. Once he was situated, it took only a few seconds for his eyes to close, a soft sigh of relief puffing out of his open mouth. “That was more effort than in should have been.” Robert mumbled, his eyes remaining closed out of weariness. Aaron smiled at the sprawling mess of limbs that was his husband. “What did you expect? You’ve had a busy few days.” He kissed the top of Robert’s head. “Rest now, babe. I’ll make dinner.” Robert opened one eye, quirking a brow at him. “Fine. I’ll order dinner.” Aaron amended his statement, hearing Liv cackle in the background as he did. They had curry for dinner. Aaron picked it up and brought it home for them, putting Robert’s usual order down in front of him after he made his way slowly over to the kitchen table. Robert groaned as he sat down, rubbing at his eyes. “Rob, you alright?” Aaron asked, peering at him over his own steaming bowl of curry. Robert nodded, scratching at the bandages covering his surgical scar in residual irritation. “Head hurts a bit.” He sighed. Aaron looked worried so he added. “It’s not bad, not like it was before, just kind of achy.” He grimaced as he focused on his piping hot curry. “I should have waited to get up and come over here. This’ll take ages to cool.” Aaron laughed just as Liv came tramping down the stairs. “Try it hot, you loon. That’s how you’re supposed to eat curry, you know.” Robert frowned at him and crossed his arms, opening his mouth to retort. Liv beat him to the punch. “He likes his curry cool.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling with mirth. Robert returned her grin fondly. “Yeah, yeah, make fun all you want.” He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and slouching down. “I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a bit while I let the temperature come down.” Aaron patted his husband’s knee. “Babe, go lay down if you’re tired. You can eat this over on the couch.” Robert shook his head infinitesimally. “No, no, I don’t want to mess up our routine. You’re finally back home; we should all eat dinner together as a family like we used to do.” Aaron blinked at that. His eyes roamed over Robert’s form, scanning for signs of discomfort. When he didn’t see any he acquiesced. “Yeah, okay, but if you start feeling unwell or you get too tired, let me know. We can always move our dinner over to the sofa and make a new routine.” Robert sent him a soft smile. “Okay, thanks.” Liv smirked at them, her eyes flicking between their fond faces. Things were good. * * * The next morning was normal. Robert was sat at the table with tea and a paper. Aaron was burning toast. Liv was rushing out the door, dropping books and paper scraps as she went. She did stop to hug them both goodbye, which was a little extra sentimental compared to her usual expressions of love, but they appreciated it nonetheless. After Liv successfully made her way out the door, Aaron slid a plate stacked with burnt toast across the table to sit in front of Robert. “Eat what you can. You probably won’t want to eat later.” Robert grimaced at the reminder that the symptoms of chemo were likely to hit him sometime that day and started on the toast. He chewed thoughtfully, peeking at Aaron with a question on his tongue that he was hesitant to ask. His husband had said a lot of things the day before at the hospital, given him a lot of reassurances. He wondered if, in the light of a new day, Aaron would still be open to him pushing for his own way a bit more. He didn’t want to start a fight or cause any discord. Things were so peaceful and good between them right now. Should he ask? Should he not? Maybe, it’d be better if he just kept his mouth shut… “Rob, whatever it is, just ask me.” Aaron spoke softly, as if he was doing his utmost not to spook him. Robert swallowed his toast, eyeing Aaron carefully. “I was just wondering what your plans were… for today.”Aaron leaned back in his seat. “I was going to stay home and look after you… Why?” Robert chewed on his lip. “Rob, why? What were you thinking?”“Just…” Robert paused. “It’s just, if you wanted to, I’d be okay with you heading into the scrapyard for a bit. I’m just going to sleep and puke all day and it’s been a while since you’ve been able to go in, what with me being in hospital. I’ll be fine on my own for a couple hours.” Robert’s gaze flickered to Aaron’s face. Did he upset him? Aaron’s brow furrowed and he looked at at him, assessing carefully. He chewed his lip and then asked, his tone gentle, but curious. “What’s behind this? Is this still… are you trying to keep me away because you don’t want me to see you sick, because you want me to keep my distance? Because, Rob, I can’t do that. I won’t.”Robert shook his head. “I just…” He peeked at Aaron again, checking that he was still calm and open to discussion. “I just thought it’d be good for you, to get out and have a normal morning, with everything that’s been going on…” He swallowed. “I’m… I’m going to need you a lot over the next few months. You’re going to have to spend a lot of your time stuck inside looking after me.” Aaron frowned, opening his mouth to contest the term ‘stuck’, but Robert continued, “I don’t want to keep you from your life, Aaron. I want you to still get to do the things you like to do, to get out of the house and see other people.”Aaron blinked at him, considering carefully, restraining his immediate inclination to shut down the conversation with a hard no. After a few moments, he nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay. I’ll go in for a bit, but only if you promise me you’ll call if you need me to come home, even if you just want me to come home.” He eyed Robert warily, noting how his husband smiled to himself, like he’d just achieved something important. “But, Rob…” He pushed on, needing to clarify. “I won’t be stuck inside looking after you; I need you to know that. Every moment I spend with you is precious, is meaningful and important. I’m not missing out on my life when I’m with you; I’m living it.” Robert swallowed, his eyes going glassy, as he met Aaron’s serious gaze. This was new. This honesty, this level of exposedness, it was new and strange and perfect. It was also undeniably sappy and his tear ducts were reacting far too quickly for his liking. He felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment. Aaron’s serious expression morphed into a full-on grin. “You’re blushing.” He said softly. Robert blushed further, fighting a self-conscious smile off his face with meager success. Aaron watched him with wonder. His husband didn’t blush. He didn’t think he could recall a single instance in the past where he had. It was foreign, a novel reaction. Was this a difference in Robert brought on by the brain surgery? Or, perhaps, it was a difference brought on by their new level of openness with each other, something beautiful that Aaron could have been exposed to far earlier if he hadn’t held himself back, if he hadn’t handicapped their relationship for all this time. Whatever the cause, seeing that pink in Robert’s cheeks, seeing the effect, the magnitude of meaning his words held for his husband… it was wonderful.Aaron reached out with gentle fingers and traced the path of the blush over Robert’s cheekbones. Robert mumbled something that sounded like, “I don’t blush,” avoiding looking at Aaron’s ecstatic expression, but his brief spout of bravado evaporated as he felt Aaron’s touch on his skin, as he melted into a happy puddle at the caress, as Aaron breathed out the words, “I like it.” Robert peeked up at Aaron through his lashes, meeting his heated gaze. “You do?” Aaron smiled at him, nodding his head. “I’ve never seen you blush before.” He swiped his finger along Robert’s cheek again. “I love how it looks on your skin, under your freckles. I love how it means you trust me.” His tone softened and he leaned in to peck his husband on the lips, drawing back after the briefest kiss. Robert chased his lips, pouting up at him when he continued to move away. “You’ve just got out of the hospital, Rob. We can’t go there right now, as much as I want to.” Robert frowned, twisting his hands together unhappily. “We should take advantage. Who knows when I’ll feel well enough for it next.” Aaron’s smile sagged slightly as Robert continued with a grumble. “You might be going without for a while.” Robert sighed, gazing down at his lap. This was the part that still made him nervous. Even if things were good right now, how long would they stay that way, how long would this good will last. What if he was ill and useless for months upon months? What if Aaron got tired of waiting, of caring for him, of accommodating all his new needs all the time? It’s not that he doubted Aaron’s sincerity; it’s that he doubted himself, his ability to keep Aaron interested and happy and sated in his weakened state.Aaron kissed his cheek, drawing him out of his reverie. “Rob, listen to me. That doesn’t matter.” Robert’s frown deepened. Aaron squeezed Robert’s knee in reassurance. “Don’t get me wrong, I love our sex life; I love being connected to you on a physical level and I’ll miss it. Of course, I will. But I can be patient, Rob, I can wait, as long as you need.” He cupped Robert’s cheeks and stared into Robert’s vulnerable eyes. “The only thing I need is you here, with me. If you lose your libido for a while, even a long while, I can handle that. I won’t get bored. I won’t lose patience. I won’t walk out on you. I swear.” Robert closed his eyes and let the assurances soothe his insecurities. When he opened his eyes again, Aaron was there, watching him. “Okay?” Aaron asked him gently.Robert nodded, smiling gratefully at his husband. “Okay.”END of CHAPTER 29 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 30 : She did whatAaron went to work. It wasn’t what he wanted to do; he wanted to stay home and look after his husband. But Robert was worried, worried about him staying confined in the house for too long, about him being stuck. So he went. He sat at his desk and rifled through a precarious stack of paperwork that had piled up during his and Robert’s prolonged absence. He worked and worked and did his best not to check his phone too often. It was torturous. He hated every minute he was there focusing on his job instead of what really mattered. But, he supposed, this was for Robert too. This was their business that Robert had kept going all the time he was in prison and now, well, now it was his turn to take on the brunt of the work. That’s what kept him working throughout the day, what kept him in his seat when his longing to check on Robert flared up. He was proud of himself when the end of the work day rolled around; he’d persevered and stayed and got a lot done.He stretched as he stood from his chair, groaning as his back cracked loudly, and then, finally, made his way out the door of the porta cabin. He dialed Robert’s cell as he walked to his car.“’lo?” Robert answered, voice hoarse and cracking.“Oh, Rob. You sound awful.” Aaron responded, quickening his pace so he could get home sooner. “The chemo kicked in, then?”“Ugh, yeah.” Robert groaned. “I feel even worse then I sound.”“Why didn’t you call me? I would have come back sooner.” Aaron chided gently.“I didn’t call because you watching me puke my guts out wouldn’t have made it any more fun.” Robert sighed over the line. “I have to do this every week for the next two months, maybe more.” Another groan. “I’m going to have to get used to taking care of myself during the day while I’m like this. Might as well start now.”Aaron sighed, knowing this subject was something he needed to take cues from Robert on. Still, he wanted to help, wanted to be there, and he felt the need to remind Robert of that persistently, to ensure that the doubts and insecurities that had built up over time were never left unaddressed long enough to crop back up and wreak havoc. He just had to fall back on gentle reminders, had to keep up a steady influx of delicate reassurances to make sure his husband never returned to that place in his head that he’d gone to while he was in the hospital. He decided to keep things light, but say the words, to always say the words, because there was no more room for miscommunication in their relationship. So, he checked, his voice soft. “I’ll help any way you’ll let me, though. You know that, right?” There was a pause on the other end of the line and then Robert answered softly, “Yeah, I know.”Aaron smiled. “Good.”* * * Robert was sick most of the night, too. Aaron didn’t sleep much. He just couldn’t sleep knowing his husband was lying on the bathroom floor, suffering. So, he gave up on trying and went and sat with Robert in the loo. There wasn’t much he could do, but he took to rubbing Robert’s back and wetting a cool cloth to hold against Robert’s neck in between bouts of nausea. Liv joined them downstairs at two in the morning to find Robert slumped back against Aaron’s chest, eyelids drooping and exhaustion setting in. “How is he?” She asked Aaron in a whisper. Aaron sighed, brushing back Robert’s fringe in a tender gesture. “He’s tired, but I think the nausea’s finally fading. Might even be able to get a couple hours of sleep.”Liv leaned against the doorframe. “Will it be this bad every time he gets chemo?”Aaron nodded, eyes raising to meet Liv’s, a silent understanding passing between them. This was how things were going to be for a while and they wouldn’t spend one second complaining about it because Robert was here, still in their lives, fighting. They wouldn’t get impatient. They wouldn’t falter in their compassion or their sympathy. They would be there, every step of the way, helping however they could. Because they weren’t going to let him down when he needed them, not again. * * Robert felt well enough to eat something the next morning. The family sat together at the kitchen table, weary, but content. The day was almost normal. Yes, Robert stayed at home to rest instead of going to work, but everything else was practically commonplace. When Liv got home from school, she plopped her bag on the floor carelessly and skipped into the living area, peering around in search of Robert. He was standing by the stove, scratching his head, shoulders drooping unhappily. “Robert? Everything okay?” She questioned softly. He jumped a bit, not having noticed her come in, and turned to face her, expression cagey. “Oh, yeah…” He bit his lip. “I felt a bit better, so I was thinking I’d make dinner, but…” He gestured behind him, at the charred remains of whatever he was attempting to make. Liv’s brow furrowed. Robert was an excellent cook. He moved with ease around a kitchen and even his most adventurous attempts at cooking had all, so far, come out well above par. The entire collection of kitchen disasters over their time as a family were down to Aaron and his knack for forgetting key recipe steps like adding water before boiling pasta, for instance. So, Robert burning something, especially this badly, was strange. “Oh,” She responded softly, “Well, that’s okay. We can all go eat at the Woolpack or something instead.” Robert frowned at the floor. “Yeah, I… I don’t know what happened.” Liv walked over to him, placing a hand gently on his upper arm. “Don’t worry about it, really.” Robert shook himself and then smiled tentatively at her. “I guess I can’t give Aaron a hard time about setting fire to everything he tries to cook anymore, can I?” Liv giggled and shook her head, pleased that Robert’s good humor had returned. He sighed lightly. “Woolpack food it is then. Marlon won’t be pleased.”Liv smiled. “You’d think he’d be over it by now, but every time we turn down the specials and order a burger with chips he looks all constipated.”Robert laughed. “Maybe we should order something else this time, just to make his day.”“Your stomach just settled. I wouldn’t risk it.” Liv advised with a mock serious expression.Robert nodded sagely. “True.” He shrugged. “Ah, well, poor fella will just have to deal with it then.”“Who’ll have to deal with what?” Aaron asked as he clomped through the entryway and into the kitchen. “Marlon.” Liv answered, glancing around. “He’s going to have to deal with our unadventurous food orders.”“Ah.” Aaron answered, understanding. “We’re going out then?” He peered at Robert, who nodded easily. “Great, I could use a pint.” Robert gestured at the stovetop. “Let me just clean this up and then we can head out.”Aaron frowned at the ruined food. “Want help, babe?”Robert shook his head. “No, no, I’ve got it.” He waved Aaron and Liv out of the kitchen. “I’ll be done in just a minute.”The two plopped down on the sofa and listened to Robert ambling around the kitchen. “What happened?” Aaron asked Liv quietly, so Robert couldn’t overhear.Liv shrugged, biting her lip. “I don’t really know.” Aaron’s brow furrowed and he turned to look in the direction of the kitchen. Did Robert forget the stove was on? Should he be worried about this? He made a note to ask Robert about it later.A few more minutes passed with the sounds of opening and closing cabinets before Robert’s voice echoed quietly from the kitchen. “Hey… Aaron?”Aaron stood up, frowning at his husband’s tone, and walked over. Robert stood in the middle of the kitchen, the now clean pan hanging limply from one hand, his expression worried. “Babe? What’s wrong?” He moved closer when Robert didn’t answer right away and grabbed his empty hand. “Rob?”Robert held the pan up, eyes slowly meeting his husband’s. “I can’t remember where this goes.” His voice cracked as he said the words.Aaron froze for a second, but recovered quickly. “That’s okay, babe. Here.” He took the pan out of Robert’s grasp and pulled Robert behind him as he went over to the correct storage location. “The pans go in this cabinet.” He stowed the pan in its proper place and then turned to Robert who was looking embarrassed. “Hey, none of that. It’s okay.” He smoothed the crease between Robert’s brows with his thumb. “I’m sure forgetting a couple things here and there is normal after brain surgery.”Robert met his eyes unhappily, opening his mouth to say something and then closing it again and deciding against it. “Let’s just… go get dinner.” He turned away from Aaron, pasting on a smile for Liv as he made his way out of the kitchen. Aaron trailed behind him, attempting to do the same. * * The Woolpack was bustling. Or maybe, it just seemed extra busy because Robert hadn’t visited for so long. Chas shot him a warm smile when he came through the door and he returned it half-heartedly. She noticed and immediately excused herself from behind the bar so she could come over to the booth they’d settled into. “It’s nice seeing you lot out and about. How are you feeling, love?” Robert shrugged, avoiding Chas’s eyes as he said. “Mostly better.”Aaron squeezed his knee under the table and grimaced up at his mom. “The nausea’s mostly passed, but he hasn’t been able to eat much the past two days so we’re hoping to get a solid meal into him tonight.” Chas nodded kindly, returning her gaze to Robert. Aaron sighed, noticing but not wanting to bring up Robert’s memory lapse before he’d had a chance to talk to his husband about it. He tried for a subject change. “How’ve things been, mum? Any new gossip ‘round the village?”Chas squinted her eyes at him, knowing what he was doing, but decided she could grill her son later. “Oh, just the usual.” She launched into an amusing account of the latest drama unfolding in Emmerdale. Out of the corner of his eye, Aaron watched Robert zone out, his eyes losing focus and his expression going blank. Liv noticed too, her fingers halting their movements across her phone screen half way through a text to Gabby. Chas’s story reached its humorous ending and Aaron and Liv could barely manage to grunt in response, their attention almost wholly diverted. Chas frowned at them before glancing at Robert. His eyes were strange, sort of glazed over and out-of-focus, and she flashed back to how he’d looked when she’d been screaming at him for cheating, right after happening upon Rebecca leaving the Mill the morning after their night together. He’d looked just like this; his eyes had been the same. “Aaron, I think he might be blacked out right now.” She said the words calmly, her voice low so the people around them wouldn’t hear.Aaron and Liv’s eyes shot to hers, widening in surprise before flashing back to Robert. Aaron scooted his chair closer to his husband, who was still gazing at nothing in particular, and called his name softly. “Rob?” He covered Robert’s hand with his own. “Babe, are you with us?” Robert didn’t respond, his expression remaining dazed. Aaron sucked in a breath and glanced around them, checking that no one else had noticed. “What…?” Liv’s gaze flickered from her brother-in-law’s blank expression to Aaron and Chas’s pinched faces. “Has this happened before?” Chas closed her eyes, regretful again, and Aaron answered in a whisper, speaking slower than usual. “Before the surgery he had a couple blackouts.” He scrubbed his unoccupied hand over his face. “Right,” He looked at Robert again, brow furrowing with worry, “Right, I… I should get him home or…” He turned to Chas. “Can I move him, when he’s like this? Or… should we just wait, wait till he comes out of it?” Chas frowned. “We don’t know how long it’ll last so I don’t know about waiting… but, Aaron, people will notice if you carry him out of here princess style; I don’t think Robert would want you to do that either.” Aaron’s brow furrowed further as he considered what to do.Liv placed a gentle hand on Robert’s arm and stared into his blank eyes. “I never noticed anything.” She said sadly, not really to anyone in particular. Chas heard, though, and patted her on the back, exchanging a concerned look with Aaron.“Okay,” Aaron said, his tone decisive, “Okay, I’m gonna step out for a second and call his doctor. You two stay with him and make sure no one bothers him while he’s…” Aaron gestured to his husband. “like that.” He strode purposefully out of the Woolpack, slipping his phone from his pocket and dialing the number he’d stored in it for the neurologist. “Dr. Halberg’s phone, this is Amanda.” A girl answered, her voice chipper. “The doctor is in a consultation right now; can I take a message?”Aaron scrubbed at his face. “Yeah, hello. This is Aaron Dingle. Look… my husband had brain surgery about a week ago and he started chemo the day before yesterday. We were just sitting down to dinner and he went all… he sort of zoned out and he’s not responding to me when I call his name or talk to him…” He swallowed, pausing. “Please, I just need to know what to do. Should I just wait for him to come out of it? Or, I mean should I be worried? Should I be driving him to the hospital right now? Should I call an ambulance? I don’t know-“ The girl cut off his spiraling with a firm, but kind, “Sir, please calm down.” Aaron sucked in a breath of air and closed his mouth. “I know it can be very scary to see someone you care about going through something like this; I really do, but what I need now is for you to answer my questions so I can find out what exactly is going on, okay?”Aaron nodded and then, realizing the girl wouldn’t be able to see, mumbled a croaky. “Yeah.”“Okay, good.” Amanda told him. “Now, what is your husband’s name so I can look up his chart?”“Robert Sugden.” The clicking of keys on computer sounded over the line. “Alright, it says here Mr. Sugden has had blackouts before, that he had no recollection of certain events that occurred during the blackout when it was over. However, it also says here that it wasn’t apparent to anyone he came in contact with that he was experiencing a blackout at the time.” There was a pause. “You said your husband was noticeably zoned out and unresponsive, though, is that correct?” “Yes, he… he’s totally out of it and he didn’t react to me calling his name.” Aaron confirmed.“Based on that alone, it doesn’t seem like he’s experiencing a blackout. If he had been, he would have responded normally and just not remembered the event later on.” She typed something into the computer. “Can you remember anything else that your husband did or said prior to or during this episode?”“No, he was normal… wait, that’s not right.” Aaron practically smacked himself in the forehead. “He… he couldn’t remember where we store pans in our kitchen. He cooks all the time; he knows where they go, but he forgot. That was about ten minutes ago.”“Okay, Aaron, it sounds like your husband might be having a complex partial seizure. Normally, these only last, at most, a few minutes. In order for us to make a real diagnosis, we’ll need to have you bring him in for some tests, but it’s not urgent enough that you need to take him to the hospital tonight. It’ll be fine to wait until tomorrow.” Aaron’s shoulders sagged in relief. “So, he’ll come out of it on his own? He’s okay?”“He should, yes. If he doesn’t come out of it, if the seizure lasts longer than ten minutes, then that’s a bit more serious and you should bring him in right away. Otherwise, tomorrow will do.” Amanda soothed him over the line. “Watch him during the seizure and see if he does anything of note, anything out of the ordinary. He’ll likely be extremely tired when he does come out of it; that’s normal. Make sure he gets some rest.”“Okay, thank you.” Aaron told her sincerely.“You’re very welcome. Please call again if you have any other questions or concerns. Otherwise, I’ll let the doctor know we’re expecting you and Mr. Sugden tomorrow.”Aaron hung up the phone and turned to go back into the Woolpack, but he stopped short when he found himself face to face with a somber-looking Rebecca, who was blocking his access to the door. His eyes darkened. “I have nothing to say to you. Get out of my way.”“Just listen then.” Rebecca simpered, placing her hand on Aaron’s arm. She widened her blue eyes innocently at him. “Believe me, you want to hear what I have to say.” Aaron’s jaw clenched. What a little actress this horrible woman was. “While you were in prison…” She aimed her gaze downwards as if contrite. “Something happened between Robert and me and I just…” Her blue eyes glistened with alligator tears. “I just can’t keep it to myself any longer. It’s not fair to you and your sister.” She opened her mouth, closing her eyes like it pained her to tell him, and then: “Robert and I slept togeth-““Yeah, yeah, he told me.” Aaron interrupted her, his gaze icy. “He also mentioned how he was wasted at the time and,” He ground his teeth together, refraining with difficult from letting his anger take on a very violent and physical form. “Completely. Blacked. Out.” He said the words through his teeth.Rebecca blinked quickly, her mouth popping open in surprise. “He… he’s lying.” She muttered, drawing her hand up to cover her astonished expression. Her eyes hardened and her tone took on an accusatory edge. “You must know he’s lying, Aaron; you’re not an idiot.”Aaron’s hands tightened into fists at his sides. “Is he now?” He moved towards Rebecca, invading her space and forcing her to step back. He watched her eyes flicker with insecurity as she realized her victim act wasn’t working on him. “Well, I’ve got a whole team of medical staff telling me different.” Her gaze flicked to his in surprise, whatever words poised on the tip of her tongue drying up. “What are you-?”“My husband just had cancerous masses cut out of his brain and chemotherapy drugs pumped into his blood. So,” Aaron’s voice dipped dangerously low, “you want to call him a liar one more time in front of me?”Rebecca gulped, taking another step back. “I… I didn’t know anything about him being sick. He…” She wrung her hands in a nervous gesture, avoiding Aaron’s eyes now. “He seemed fine. He acted totally normal and he… HE came onto ME. Even if he was… I had no way of knowing he was blacked out or whatever.” She swallowed, gaze flicking around shiftily. “You knew.” Aaron said, voice quiet. “You knew he wasn’t right. You saw it and you took advantage.” Rebecca froze, all pretenses falling away, and her gaze rose to meet Aaron’s, an ugly expression taking over her face. She leaned forward, one eyebrow quirking up, and asked him in a silky whisper. “And what if I did?” Aaron’s eyes flashed and he watched as the obsession Rebecca had always managed to hide lit up her eyes. “Don’t fret, Aaron. Robert enjoyed himself. I imagined he missed the feel of a… erm,” her eyes flicked over Aaron’s form and she smirked, “woman’s shape.”Aaron felt red hot anger jolt through him, felt the impulse to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze, but then he remembered… he was the one that Robert chose. Him. Not her. She was angry and bitter and jealous and she was lashing out with whatever she could think of now, trying to tear him down, tear his husband down, trying to rip them apart. But he wasn’t going to let her.“You can say whatever you want.” He told her, his voice calm, anger reigned in. “But I know two things and nothing you say matters after those. First, you and my husband had sex that night. And second,” his eyes narrowed and his tone went icy, “Robert was in no state to give consent when you did.” Rebecca’s eyes flew wide. “So, as far as I’m concerned, the only thing up in the air at this point,” He moved towards her menacingly.“is whether or not I should report you to the police for raping my husband.”Rebecca gaped at him in horror, words failing her completely. Aaron glared at her, a fiery rage burning threateningly behind his eyes. The silence dragged on one, two, three seconds and then…“She did what?”END of CHAPTER 30 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 31 : He did exactly what he was told.“Robert? Robert, can you hear me?” Liv asked her brother-in-law gently. The dazed look in his eyes remained, but his empty gaze shifted slightly to rest on her. “Of course I can hear you.” He answered her, but his eyes remained strange and out of focus. She swallowed, glancing at Chas, who was frowning deeply.“Robert, do you know where you are, love?” Chas queried, her tone careful. His empty gaze dragged itself over to meet hers and he tilted his head in question. “Of course…” There was a pause as his gaze meandered sluggishly around to take in his surroundings. “I’m in a pub.” He answered. Liv covered her mouth, eyes growing teary. Chas patted her on the shoulder comfortingly. Robert peered at them through glazed over, emotionless eyes.“Liv,” Chas spoke softly, “go tell Aaron about this, alright. He might still be on the phone with the doctor.” Liv nodded and stood, swiping away the tears that had escaped down her cheeks.She pushed open the door leading out of the Woolpack and was immediately assaulted by a hushed conversation between Rebecca and her brother.“You knew.” Aaron told her, voice quiet. “You knew he wasn’t right. You saw it and you took advantage.” Rebecca leaned forward and asked him in a silky whisper. “And what if I did?” Liv watched Aaron tense up like a coiled snake poised to strike. But then Rebecca was speaking again. “Don’t fret, Aaron. Robert enjoyed himself. I imagined he missed the feel of a… erm, woman’s shape.”Aaron’s fists were clenched at his sides in unmistakable anger and Liv was frozen in place listening. When her brother responded, his voice was controlled, calm. “You can say whatever you want. But I know two things and nothing you say matters after those. First, you and my husband had sex that night. And second,” his tone went icy, “Robert was in no state to give consent when you did.” There was a pregnant pause and then Aaron continued. “So, as far as I’m concerned, the only thing up in the air at this point,” Aaron moved towards Rebecca menacingly, “is whether or not I should report you to the police for raping my husband.”“She did what?” The words forced their way through her lips and left a ringing silence in their wake. Aaron froze for a long moment. Then he spun slowly on his heal to face her, taking in her stormy expression. Rebecca backed away, hands lifted in a peace-making gesture. “I didn’t do that. It’s not true-““Don’t fucking lie!” Aaron spat at her, eyes glacial. “You stay away from him, from all of us. If you do that, I’ll keep my mouth shut about it.”“No one would believe you. Even if you went to the police, you can’t prove anything.” Rebecca hissed, her hackles rising defensively.Aaron’s eyes flashed. “It’s not the police I need to convince. If what you did gets back to everyone around here, if it gets back to my lot, you’ll have a lot more to worry about than jail time.” His tone grew threatening. “They don’t take kindly to rapists, my family.”Rebecca stiffened, her visage chalky white. After a moment’s indecision, she backed away, stomping off in the direction of Home Farm without uttering another word.Aaron huffed out a breath, watching her until she had disappeared from his sight. Only then did he turn to Liv, who was staring at him with wide, horrified eyes.“Did she really…?” Liv asked shakily. “Oh my God.” Tears clouded her eyes. Aaron wrapped an arm around her.“The blackouts Robert was having before… he had one after he came to see me in prison. He was really upset so he got drunk and he called her…” Aaron’s shoulders slumped. “He can’t remember any of it, blames himself. But it isn’t… it was never his fault. She knew he wasn’t right when she did what she did.”Liv buried her face against her brother, sniffling sporadically while he held her. That was what she’d seen inside, Robert when he was blacked out. And he’d been so different, his eyes empty, his expression blank. He didn’t even recognize the Woolpack… Someone had taken advantage of him while he was like that? While he was so visibly far from himself? While he was so clearly vulnerable? It made her feel physically ill.After a minute, she pulled back and wiped her eyes, remembering she was supposed to tell Aaron about the change her and Chas had seen. “Aaron, Robert came out of it a little while you were out here. He’s answering us now, but he’s still not quite right. He didn’t seem like he recognized the pub and his eyes are all unfocused.” Aaron was tugging her back towards the Woolpack door before she’d finished speaking, his expression taut with worry. He shoved the door open, his eyes searching wildly for a second before landing on where Robert and Chas were sitting. Brother and sister made their way over to the table quickly, sinking down into their chairs, gazes trained on Robert and his empty eyes.Chas was speaking to him in a quiet voice, asking questions. Robert was looking in her direction unseeingly, answering her in one-word monotone outputs. Aaron cut in gently, “Robert, do you feel alright? Do you want to go home?” Robert’s empty gaze shifted to him and he cocked his head slightly. “Home?” Aaron swallowed. “Yeah, home.” Robert’s brow furrowed in confusion, as if he didn’t know how to answer. Aaron took his hand. “Let’s… babe, let’s get you home alright.” He stood, pulling Robert up carefully, unsure if he would be able to walk in his current state, but his husband got up and followed behind him without a word. Liv trailed after them both with Chas, both of them ready to step forward at any sign that Robert might trip. When they arrived back at the Mill, Robert surveyed their family home, no sign of recognition in his expression. His loved ones watched on fearfully, wondering how long this lapse in memory would last. Aaron unlocked the door in silence and led Robert inside. “I’m just going to take him upstairs for now.” He told Chas and Liv quietly, eyeing his husband warily. “Maybe if he gets to sleep… I don’t know, maybe it’ll pass.” He half-shrugged, feeling helpless.Chas nodded in understanding. “That’s probably best. What did the doctor say, love?”Aaron sighed. “She thought he was having a seizure, a complex partial seizure, she called it. But now he’s responsive… sort of… so I don’t know if that’ll change the diagnosis or not, but,” He rubbed his eyes tiredly, still watching Robert out of the corner of his eye as he stood in the middle of their living room, gazing around blankly. “but, anyway, I’ll take him in tomorrow and we’ll figure out what’s going on.” He frowned, the crease deepening between his brows, and asked in a voice croaky with emotion, “Do you think he was like this when Rebecca… when she…?” He ran his hand through his hair in agitation. Liv and Chas gulped, uncomfortable with the thought. “He doesn’t even know where he is.” He gestured to Robert’s vacant expression. “He just followed me right out of the Pub. He didn’t know where we were going, didn’t know what was going on or why we were leaving, but he just… he just did what I said. He just followed me.” Aaron buried his face in his hands.Chas and Liv moved towards him, comforting him with closeness, with the only thing they had to offer him in that moment. Because they didn’t know what to say.After a long moment, Aaron sniffed, wiping the wetness that had accumulated on his cheeks away. He went to Robert, placing a hand lightly on his lower back and speaking in a soft voice. “Let’s go to bed, okay babe?” His husband went with him easily, too easily, and the pit in Aaron’s stomach seemed to expand and settle heavily in his gut. Had Rebecca seen him like this? Had she realized she could lead him around, tell him to do things, things he wouldn’t normally do? Had she kissed him, undressed him, pushed him down on their bed? It made his stomach roll, the thought of what she did, the thought of Robert being this vulnerable in front of her. It made him want to tuck his husband into his chest and never ever let him go. He helped Robert take his shoes off, helped him change into sweats for bed and averted his eyes while he did. It didn’t feel okay to look at him now; it felt wrong, it felt too much like what she had done. He tucked Robert into their bed, smoothing his fringe lightly. “Get some sleep, babe. Everything will look better in the morning.” Robert blinked dazedly and then closed his eyes in easy compliance.He did exactly what he was told.END of CHAPTER 31 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 32 : Happy?The sun filtering in through the window was what woke Robert up. He blinked blearily, raising a hand to block the sunbeam. And then he stilled.He was home, in his and Aaron’s bed, and he couldn’t remember, for the life of him, how he’d gotten there. Last he remembered, he was pulling ingredients out of their cupboard to make dinner. There was a black hole where the entire evening before should have existed in his memory. He swallowed nervously, sitting up and peering around. He was alone in bed, no sleeping husband in the space next to him, but before he could feel any more than the mildest beginnings of panic, his gaze fell on Aaron’s form, hunched over in a chair placed directly in front of their bedroom door. His brow furrowed and he pushed the covers off himself and padded over to his husband. He shook Aaron’s shoulder gently. “Aaron?” His voice squeaked strangely, nerves prickling at his spine. What had happened last night? Why was his husband guarding their bedroom door? “Aaron.” He tried again, a little louder this time.Aaron jumped in his chair, eyes flying open and whizzing around the room. When they fell on Robert’s concerned face, inches from his own, he relaxed, letting out a relieved exhale. He tugged Robert forward, wrapping his arms around his very confused husband. “Aaron, what’s going on? What happened?” Robert asked, his voice muffled slightly by Aaron’s shoulder, which his face was being pressed into snugly. Aaron tightened his hold, not answering. Robert’s heartbeat sped up and he asked, scared now, “Did I… do something? I… I can’t remember-”“Ssh, ssh, babe.” Aaron rocked him, calming down his racing heart. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” The tension in Robert’s frame drained slowly. After a few minutes, Aaron released his hold on his husband and took his hand, leading him over to their bed so they could sit down next to each other. He sighed, running his thumb over the back of Robert’s hand. "You had a... well, I'm not completely sure what it was... maybe a seizure, maybe a blackout, maybe some combination of the two..." Robert grimaced down at his lap, hating how much worry he was constantly causing the person he loved. Aaron squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You didn't do anything wrong, babe. Please don't make that face." He ruffled Robert's hair and Robert responded with a weak smile. "You just sort of zoned out. At first, you didn't respond to anything at all and then, after a few minutes, you started to answer us but you still didn't seem to recognize where you were." Aaron swallowed, the pure vulnerability his husband had displayed twisting his stomach again. "I called and talked to a nurse while it was happening and she said I could bring you in to see your neurologist this morning. She didn’t think it was an emergency and said it would keep overnight so I brought you home." Aaron peeked at Robert's unhappy expression. "Babe?" Robert sighed, meeting Aaron's eyes sadly. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. Was Liv… was she there, when I…?"Aaron nodded and Robert’s shoulders sagged. "We were in the Woolpack when it happened. She’s worried about you, so is my mum, but they’re okay." His brow furrowed. "So, you don’t remember us going to the pub then? What's the last thing you do remember, babe?"Robert's forehead wrinkled in thought. "I was getting stuff out to make dinner." Aaron's eyes widened. "That's..." He swallowed. "That's further back than I expected.” His voice croaked slightly and he looked at the floor, unnerved. Robert squeezed his hand, waiting for him to collect himself. “I didn’t know anything was wrong. I mean…” He peered up at his husband. “There was a moment where you forgot where we put our kitchen pans away. That was a precursor, I guess. I should have realized then and made us all stay home…” He shook his head, annoyed with himself.“Aaron…” Robert brought their intertwined hands into his lap, forcing Aaron to angle towards him. He fiddled with his husband’s ring as he spoke. “Don’t do that, please. Don’t blame yourself for that. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be on alert all the time. That’s… too much. You can’t live your life like that.” Aaron opened his mouth to argue. “No, listen, I…” Robert ducked his head. “I’m obviously having some… issues… still. But that doesn’t mean you need to be changing all of our routines to accommodate me, Aaron. We can’t stop going out. We can’t stop being us, just because I’m having some trouble. Please, I don’t want that.” Aaron pulled him into his chest. “Okay, I hear you. I do.” He sighed, breathing in the scent of Robert’s hair. “I just… I’m just worried about you, about your safety, when you’re out of it like that, Rob. You didn’t know where you were. I… I’m not completely sure whether or not you recognized me, either.” Aaron whispered the last part, and Robert raised his head to meet his eyes. Aaron blew out a breath. “You were… I don’t know how to say this…” He stared at the floor. “You were… suggestible. You just… did whatever I asked, Rob. And, of course, I’d never take advantage of that, never ever, but the idea that someone else… could, that someone else already has, it scares the shit out of me.” He tightened his grip around his husband.Robert swallowed, unnerved himself now. “I… I was really that bad?” Aaron nodded, a haunted looking rising behind his eyes. “Is that why you slept in front of the door like that?” He asked, realization dawning. Aaron nodded again. “I was afraid you’d wake up and not know where you were.” He said it softly and Robert could hear the nerves, the worry that must have kept his husband up half the night as he tried to figure out how to make sure he didn’t wander off while he was sleeping. “I’m sorry.” Robert choked, eyes filling. Aaron shook his head, tsking at him. “Don’t. S’not your fault.” He rested his head on Robert’s shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re back to yourself again. I didn’t know how long it might last.” Robert ducked his head and Aaron ran a hand through his hair soothingly. “I missed you while you were gone.” He said softly.“Thank you for taking care of me while I was.” Robert told him just as softly, blinking back the wetness in his eyes.“We’ll figure all of this out, okay. We’ll go to the doctor and get it sorted.” Aaron reached over to the bedside table and checked his phone. “It’s late enough now; they should be open. You ready to head out?” He checked gently.Robert rubbed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll just throw on some jeans. What about Liv? Should we wake her up and tell her we’re leaving?” Aaron shook his head. “She already knows. I told her I was taking you to the doctor in the morning last night so just let her sleep in.” “She probably could use a lie in after all the drama.” Robert grimaced.Aaron paused and then turned to face Robert carefully. “Speaking of drama… I should probably tell you I had a run in with Rebecca last night.” Robert froze, swallowing down the stomach-twisting guilt that arose whenever Rebecca was mentioned. “Oh.” His eyes flickered to Aaron’s and then away again. “Sorry.” He choked out.“Not your fault.” Aaron reminded him, gently tilting Robert’s face to look at him again. The guilt shining in his husband’s eyes made him want to scream. “Babe, she didn’t even deny it, what she did. At first, she tried to lie, but then she just admitted it, that she took advantage. I told her to stay away or I’d go to the cops.” Robert gaped at him. “What? N-no! Aaron, you can’t –“Aaron pecked him on the cheek. “I know. I know you still don’t see it the way I do and you don’t want to make a fuss, so I won’t tell anyone. But Rob, she needed to back off. I don’t want her anywhere near you after what she did.” He stroked Robert’s cheek, frowning at his unconvinced expression. “If she stays away, we won’t have a problem. But if she starts buzzing around you again…” Aaron’s eyes flashed and Robert could feel the threat linger in the air with the unfinished sentence. He chewed on his cheek, unsure how to process this level of protectiveness aimed at him. It riled up his insecurities a bit. Aaron really believed what happened with Rebecca wasn’t his fault, that the woman was a threat he needed to be shielded from. He couldn’t remember a single time in his life prior to this where someone had loved him enough to believe in him, to go to bat for him, to this degree. He had his own knight in shining whatever and he wasn’t so sure he deserved it. But the level of comfort it brought him, the warmth blossoming in his chest at the blatant display of Aaron’s protective instincts… was it wrong that he derived an unfamiliar, but undeniably reassuring, sense of security from it?Was it wrong for it to make him feel… happy?END of CHAPTER 32 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 33 : Just breathe“Okay, Aaron, based off of what you described, it sounds like a partial complex seizure, preceded and followed by a state of blackout.” The doctor turned around to face Robert and Aaron, finally looking away from the scans taken of Robert’s brain that morning. “There’s no evidence of a stroke or any other types of trauma to the brain tissue, so a seizure is really the best explanation. Also, what you described, Robert’s forgetting where commonplace items went in your home, that fits for a seizure. People sometimes report confusion before the event.” The doctor peered at the two men over her glasses, taking in their unhappy expressions. “I know seizures can be scary, but this is something we can manage with medication. We’ve just got to try you on different ones until we find the medication that works. There’s no need to look so glum.”Aaron rubbed his face. “But what about the blackout? He didn’t even know where he was.” He gestured to Robert, who grimaced. “What if he’s by himself next time?”“Aaron, I need you to describe this part to me again. You said that, at first, Robert was completely unresponsive, yes?” Aaron nodded. “And then he reverted to this other state where he was answering you when you asked him direct questions, but didn’t seem to recognize familiar places or people. Is that right?”“Yeah, only he was also...” Aaron gripped Robert’s knee, squeezing slightly in agitation. “He was...”“Suggestible.” Robert filled in for Aaron quietly. “That’s how you described it this morning.” Aaron swallowed convulsively and nodded, his skin a shade paler than usual. The doctor frowned. “When you say suggestible, what do you mean? Explain what happened to give you that impression, please.” She asked, her voice softening at the end, noticing the distress this particular symptom was causing Aaron. He gave Robert’s knee another squeeze and then croaked. “He didn’t know where he was or who any of us were, I don’t think. But when I told him that we should go home, he just got up and followed me, even though he didn’t know where I was leading him. And then, when we got there, he just went upstairs with me so easily...” Aaron closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face.“What makes you think Robert didn’t know who you were, Aaron?” The doctor queried gently. “I could just... tell.” Aaron frowned. “Something about his eyes. They weren’t really focusing on anything. And he seemed... I don’t know... sort of blank.” Robert rubbed Aaron’s arm, trying to comfort him. The doctor frowned as she thought. “This is a difficult diagnosis to prove with any kind of medical test since it’s more of a psychological condition, but that sounds a lot like dissociation.” Robert swallowed nervously and his hand on Aaron’s arm stilled. Aaron swiveled to face him, his brows pulling together. “Robert? What is it?”Robert avoided his eyes, seeming to shrink in on himself slightly. “I...” He wrapped his arms around himself in a self-protective gesture. “That... used to happen to me when I was a kid, sometimes.”Aaron’s brow furrowed further. “When you were a kid...?” He turned to the doctor to find she was grimacing, her eyes sad and trained on Robert. “Robert, I need to ask you something and it’s important that you’re honest with me because if you’re not it could compromise your diagnosis. Do you understand?” She asked gently, waiting for Robert to look up at her resignedly and nod. “Were you subjected to any sort of emotional, physical, or sexual abuse when you were a child?”Robert could feel Aaron stiffen next to him, could feel his husband’s eyes flicker to rest on his face. He sighed audibly, not particularly happy to speak this particular truth. “Yeah.” He breathed. “Physically, I was a bit, yeah.” Aaron seemed to be made of stone next to him, his features frozen in shock. Robert bit his cheek, nervous now. He’d never talked much about his childhood with Aaron. There was that time in the woods, when he’d confessed to his husband that his dad had found out about his sexuality and leathered him for it. A few other times the topic had come up briefly, but Aaron had never directly asked whether that beating had been the only one Jack had ever dished out. And Robert wasn’t about to bring that sort of thing up without provocation, not when Aaron had suffered abuse far worse at the hands of his own father. He wasn’t going to complain about what happened to him, to bring up dads and childhood trauma to Aaron. He wasn’t that selfish. At least, that’s how he’d always convinced himself he didn’t have to come clean about it, that he didn’t have to tell anyone... ever, even the person he trusted most in the world. But, now, feeling the confusion and shock and hurt emanating from Aaron, he wondered if maybe he should’ve. He peeked sideways at his husband, whose hands were clenched into fists, whose face was closed off and guarded in a way it hadn’t been since they’d had their talk about being open and not holding things back at the hospital. He shrunk in on himself. He’d fucked up again. The doctor frowned as she watched the two men react to the proclamation. Apparently, it was a bit of a shock to Aaron to hear his husband had been abused as a child, though his reaction seemed slightly odd. Instead of trying to comfort his loved one, he was withdrawing from them. It was worrying, but she pressed on with her diagnosis, wanting to make sure the two men knew what they were dealing with. “Dissociation is commonly seen in victims of child abuse. It generally begins to occur in childhood as a defense mechanism during trauma. The victim will dissociate while the abuse is occurring in order to cope.” She paused, noticing a shadow come over Robert’s face as he listened. She spoke softly. “As an adult, dissociative episodes may still occur in response to high levels of stress or fear. That being said, there have been cases of seizures inducing dissociative states, especially in people who’ve experienced dissociation during their childhood.” She finished the spiel and sighed. “I’m afraid, while we can treat the seizures with medication and that might, via a chain reaction, reduce the number of dissociative episodes, I can’t promise that curing one will cure the other.” Aaron’s jaw was clenched tightly and he hadn’t looked at Robert since the big reveal, but he still spoke up now. “So what’s the solution, doc? How do I make sure he doesn’t wander off in the middle of the night?” Robert flinched slightly at Aaron’s tone. It was flippant, uncaring, cold. He stared down at his lap, holding back the tears prickling at his eyes. “I can prescribe sleep meds to keep him from wandering off, but I’m hesitant to add even more medications into the mix after the seizure and chemo meds. Sleepwalkers usually install locks on doors and windows to keep themselves from wandering; you could try that. And, of course, I can refer you to a psychologist.” She frowned as Aaron huffed angrily, his head turned away from Robert’s huddled form. “Great. So basically, you can’t help us.” Aaron stood, striding towards the door with jerky steps. He waited for Robert, his back to him. Robert swallowed, shook the doctor’s hand briefly, eyes cast downward as he did. “Thanks for getting us in this morning.” He said softly before following Aaron, who had already started off down the hallway. “Aaron...” Robert started tentatively, his voice shaky with nerves.“Don’t want to hear it.” Aaron spat, his eyes never leaving the road as he drove them home. Robert recoiled the tiniest bit from his tone. He’d known this would happen eventually. He’d known. It had been an amazing few days of openness and unfettered love and attention, but it was over now. Of course it was. He turned his face towards the window so Aaron wouldn’t see the tears that escaped from his eyes. He’d known all along he would fuck it up. It was just how he was, who he was. Over the last few days, he’d started to wonder if, maybe, he could trust that he and Aaron would really last, started to almost believe that Aaron would forgive him when he fell of the wagon and made a mess of things, that he would stay anyway. But, he knew better. A few days couldn’t erase a lifetime of lessons. Here it was. The end. He’d really hoped he’d get longer with Aaron, with Liv. He’d really wanted to stay with them. A few more tears tricked down his cheeks. It had been so amazing, so wonderful, while it had lasted. They drove the whole way home in tense silence. As soon as the car was parked, Aaron got out and slammed the door behind him, striding off into the house without a backward glance. Robert shrunk down in his seat. He didn’t want to go in. The beginning of the end would start once he went in. He sighed, drooping pathetically as his already depleted energy levels took a heavy hit from grief. He wasn’t up for the one-way screaming match about to happen. He let his head fall back against the seat. If he stayed in the car, would Aaron come back out to help him? Or would he just leave him outside? He decided it was probably the latter and forced himself to fumble with the handle and push the door open with his meager strength, half-falling out of the car when he managed it. He stumbled down the walk to their front door, leaning heavily against it when he got there. His eyelids drooped precariously. The visit to the doctor’s had wiped him out, had used up all his energy stores. Not to mention, with all the commotion the night before and the hurry to get to the doctor’s that morning, he hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours. He was hungry and completely exhausted. He didn’t have it in him to weather an angry Aaron right now. But an angry Aaron was the only kind he was going to get.He turned the doorknob, letting his body weight push the door open for him so he could stumble inside. Aaron wasn't anywhere to be seen, meaning his husband had already stomped upstairs. It was lucky he hadn’t waited in the car for Aaron to come get him, then.He slouched over to the sofa and plopped down with a relieved huff. He was so tired. Maybe he could sneak in a nap and a snack before he and Aaron talked, just so he could get his strength up a bit?Just as the hopeful thought crossed his mind, Aaron’s footfalls echoed heavily on the stairs announcing his descent. Robert sighed, forcing his eyes open and attempting to focus his exhausted brain. Aaron still looked pissed. His jaw was clenched and a vein in his neck was protruding visibly. “Well?” He half-shouted into the silence. “Anything you want to say to me?” Robert cringed at the high volume, eyes flicking up to meet Aaron’s angry gaze. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I should’ve told you-““Yeah, you fucking should have!” Aaron hissed at him. “We promised to be honest and open with each other. Remember that?” Robert nodded, eyes shiny with unshed tears. “I know Aaron. I’m sorry. It’s just... it’s hard for me to talk about stuff like that.” Aaron’s eyes flashed. “What and you think talking about Gordon was a picnic for me!? You think that was easy?” Aaron grabbed the object nearest to him and threw it across the room. It turned out to be a vase and shattered loudly against the far wall.Robert hunched in on himself, fear cowing him. Aaron throwing things generally meant his husband had lost control of his temper. The last time that had happened he’d found himself with an aching jaw and a large piece of glass slashing nearly clean through his arm. Apparently that memory was still a bit fresh because his body was shaking like a leaf and his fight or flight instincts were thrumming with silent instructions to run, run, run. But he didn’t, probably couldn’t if he wanted to. He stayed where he was, stiff with nerves, and watched Aaron’s movements with cautious eyes.Aaron breathed hard and loud where he stood, unapologetic about his outburst. “I’ve spilled my soul to you, Robert.” He finally said, his voice reverberating strangely in the silent expanse if their empty house. “You know everything about me, about my past.. You know every sordid detail.” He laughed humorlessly, covering his eyes with his hand. “I feel like such an idiot. I just opened up to you completely, spilled all my darkest secrets, like a fool, and somehow I didn’t even notice that you never gave me anything, anything at all, in return.” He glared down at Robert, eyes glacial. “I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know what the hell you did between leaving Emmerdale as a teenager and coming back draped all over Chrissie. I clearly don’t know anything about your childhood. All I know about you is what I’ve seen for myself over the last few years. That’s it!” Aaron’s fists clenched and he closed his eyes, his expression pained. “Why the fuck is that, huh?”Robert swallowed. “I... I don’t know. I...” he wracked his brain desperately for an explanation. He didn’t think ‘I didn’t say anything because I thought I’d lose you if I let you see just how screwed up I really am’ would cut it. “I-I guess I’m just not good at opening up. It’s not... in my nature.”Aaron glared at him, eyes hard and unyielding. “We’re supposed to be a team, Robert. We’re supposed to be equal and honest with each other. You’re not supposed to still have all these fucking secrets. Not from me.” He clenched his jaw tightly and turned away. A long pause followed where Robert bit his lip and tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill. Then Aaron snatched up his keys and wallet from the table and strode towards the door muttering. “I need some air.” The slamming of their front door echoed through the house and Robert let his head fall into his hands, sobs breaking free. Just this morning things had been so good between them. He’d felt so close to his husband. And now, with one mighty screw-up, he’d destroyed that. Aaron didn’t come back. Robert waited for over four hours, staying awake and putting off the rest he desperately needed. His appetite had absconded when Aaron did, but he’d tried to eat something anyway. Only everything he put in his mouth tasted strangely metallic and he found himself unable to make himself have more than a few meager bites. So he finally gave up the effort and trudged up to bed feeling hungry and emotionally drained. Aaron was still gone in the morning. Robert sat up, rubbing roughly at his eyes, and peered around sadly, unable to keep from checking to see if his husband was slumbering in a chair in front of the door and being disappointed when he wasn’t. He’d hoped things might be slightly better in the morning, but apparently they weren’t. Robert’s shoulders drooped. He didn’t want to go downstairs, didn’t want to face the anger and the disappointment in his husband’s eyes. But he was starving. It’d now been far too long since he’d eaten a decent meal. His stomach twisted painfully in protest and he forced himself to drag his weakened body out of bed. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to open the bedroom door, and then reached out and turned the knob. Well.He tried to turn the knob. Resistance and a click alerted him to the fact that the bedroom door had seemingly been locked from the outside. He froze, his nerves tingling with the beginnings of fear. He tried the door again. Click. Again, harder. Click click. He tried with more force now, yanking desperately on the handle when it refused to budge. “No, no, no.” Click click. “Aaron?” Robert croaked, his throat scratchy with panic. “Aaron?” His voice rose in volume and pitch. “Aaron, please.” Only silence answered him. He pounded on the door with his fist, his breathing speeding up and growing irregular. “Aaron, Liv, somebody.” He wheezed weakly, resting his forehead helplessly against the door. “Please.” His body slumped and he slid down to sit on the floor, throat tight, eyes wet, heart pounding. He tried to control his breathing, to control the panic creeping over him, but he couldn’t remember what the doctor had told him to do if he had another episode. Something about counting? He began ticking off numbers in his head, trying to match his breaths to the steadily increasing count. But then he’d remember that he was locked in again and the panic would break through, icing over his brain so he forgot what number he was on. “Forty f-five, forty s-six.” He swayed, woozy and lightheaded, his breathing way too fast despite his efforts. “F-fifty?” Wait. Had he missed a number? Black spots swirled around in his vision and he felt himself tip to the side. He curled up in a ball on the floor where he fell, knees tucked into his chest, and scrunched his eyes closed. Breathe, he had to keep reminding himself. Just breathe.END of CHAPTER 33 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 34 : What’s it to you?When Aaron left the house, he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He felt like such a fool, like a sucker, like an idiot. It made his face heat and anger whiz through his veins. Robert knew everything about him; he didn’t have any secrets left. But Robert, Robert had nothing but secrets and omissions and half-truths. Was he blind? How had he not noticed the discrepancy? How had he not seen the huge gap in his husband’s story before, not asked about it, not made Robert fill it in for him? He felt so exposed, so uneasy. So angry.He’d already made arrangements for Liv to stay over at Gabby’s for the night so he didn’t need to worry about his kid sister. He definitely didn’t want to see his lying husband right now. So, he decided having a pint or two might help him calm down. He drove out of Emmerdale and down the road a ways, stopping at the first hole-in-the-wall pub he laid eyes on. He ate and then drank for a while, not really socializing with anyone around him. He had quite a bit more to drink than he should, really, but no one was around to pester him about it so he kept on. His thoughts circled back around to Robert, as they always did, without fail, and he wondered why his husband was so closed-mouthed about his past. He wondered why he, Robert’s husband, had been left so completely in the dark. It was almost one in the morning when Aaron finally went home. He trudged into the house and up the stairs, peering into the master bedroom. Robert was out like a light, deep circles under his eyes. He felt his anger ebb slightly when he looked into his husband’s sleeping face, but then it flared back up again as he remembered all the lies and the holding back Robert had done in the past. He grit his teeth and vacated the room, not even bothering to grab sleep clothes.He paused on his way out the door, remembering back to the doctor’s visit. The doctor has suggested locking doors and windows to make sure that, if Robert had another dissociative episode, he wouldn’t just wander out of their house and into the street. Aaron snapped the lock into place. He didn’t need to spend the night worrying about his husband, especially not when he was this pissed off.He made his way back downstairs and sank down onto the sofa, falling asleep in a flash. The morning came too quickly, especially in loo of Aaron’s massive hangover, which he would have gladly put off experiencing for another few blinks. It was still dark so he guessed he hadn’t slept for more than a few measly hours. He sat up, back cracking, and looked around the living room, looked at their beautiful house that was supposed to be where they found their bliss, where their little family could thrive and grow strong. It hurt to look at. He pushed himself up off the couch and the floorboards creaked loudly under his feet. He froze, listening for any sound upstairs. He really didn’t want to wake Robert, really didn’t want to see his face right now. No sounds came from upstairs and Aaron sighed in relief. He shuffled quietly towards the front door, grabbing up his keys as he did. How glad he was that he’d just slept in his clothes last night; now he didn’t even have to change before escaping from the house. He picked up breakfast on his way into work and managed a productive day at the scrapyard. There were brief moments where Robert would crop up in his thoughts and sour his mood, but he managed to shake himself off and think of something else that made him less pissed off. As the sky darkened outside, he considered calling it a day and heading home, but the anger still roiling his stomach stopped him. He drove to the Woolpack instead.Liv and Gabby were sat at a table, both on their phones. He ruffled Liv’s hair as he passed, ignoring her grumbling and making his way over to the bar. “How are you, love?” Chas asked as she grabbed him a pint. He shrugged his shoulders, frowning. Chas paused, her arm halfway outstretched to hand him his drink. “What’s wrong? Why do you look like you slept in your clothes?”Aaron shrugged again, answering gruffly, “Probably because I did.” He sighed. “Robert and I had a fight.” Chas snapped at Charity. “Cover the bar.” And then she was rounding the corner and coming to sit next to him, eyes intent on his face. “A fight about what?”Aaron rolled his eyes. “He withheld information, a lot of information, about himself. I only just got clued in yesterday at the doctor’s office, in front of the fucking doctor.” He scrubbed at his face. “He made me feel like such a stupid, trusting fool.”Chas’s brow furrowed. “What kind of information?” “Personal.” Aaron grumbled, avoiding her eyes. And then. “You know what, screw it!” He gulped down his pint, wiped his mouth, and then looked at his mother. “His dad... used to beat him.” His words slowed and lowered in volume as he finished divulging Robert’s very personal, long-kept secret. Chas gaped at him, her forehead wrinkling in consternation. “Jack Sugden?” Aaron nodded jerkily, guilt seeding itself in his stomach at having shared something that was told to him in confidence, not even to him, but to a doctor. “I mean I knew Jack wasn’t... the father everyone thought he was. Robert had told me about one time when he’d responded, you know, violently, but he made it sound like it was just the once. Turns out it wasn’t.” His voice cracked and suddenly the sadness and anger and protectiveness that should have risen to the surface when he first heard the news, hit him like a sucker punch. Robert had been abused too. He’d been abused to the point that his mind had needed to dissociate from his body just so he could survive. And now the coping mechanism he'd used as a child was cropping back up in unsafe situations, was incapacitating his husband in a way that put him in danger, that made it easy for others to take advantage. As if a childhood filled with trauma wasn't enough."You fought with Robert over this? Because he didn't tell you about Jack?" Chas's eyebrows pulled together, her voice rising in pitch with disbelief. "Aaron..." She shook her head at her son.Aaron swallowed, unhappily, scrabbling to remember why he'd been so mad, why he'd reacted the way he did. "He knows everything... about me." He whispered. "Everything. And he didn't... even when I told him the worst, the most horrible things about my past... he didn't say anything about any of it, about what he went through."Chas sighed, reaching out and squeezing her son's arm lightly. "Aaron, how many years were you here, with me, in Emmerdale, keeping everything that Gordon did to you from me and everyone else?" Aaron's eyes flashed to hers. She nodded gently. "It took you a long time to open up about that, to trust us with that truth. Why was that? Why did you hold things back? Why didn't you tell us all right away, the first day you got here?"Aaron blinked back the moisture in his eyes. "I wasn't ready..." He swallowed, his voice croaking with held back tears. "I was afraid and ashamed and... it took me a long time to be ready to talk about it, to deal with it." He closed his eyes, understanding what Chas was getting at. "Then you can hardly blame Robert for holding his own truth back until he was ready to tell it, can you?" Chas asked him softly. Aaron dropped his head into his hands. "Fuck, you're right. I... I screwed up. I shouldn't have gotten mad. Damn it." He rubbed at his eyes roughly, memories flooding in. When Gordon had come back into his life, he'd started utilizing old coping mechanisms again, just like Robert had. He'd started self-harming to gain back control in a situation where he felt helpless. And what had Robert done when he'd been going through all that, when he'd been struggling with telling others about his past, when he'd been hurting himself on purpose, when he was literally self destructing? Robert had stayed by his side, had listened to his story when he was ready to tell it. He hadn't turned away, hadn't blamed him for his self destructive behavior, hadn't looked at him any differently. He'd supported him, loved him, through it. And now, suddenly, their situations were reversed and Aaron had literally walked out on his husband. He'd yelled at him and blamed him for not coming clean about it sooner. He hadn't comforted him, hadn't told him everything was going to be okay. No, when his husband needed him, he'd abandoned him. Again.He stood up abruptly, his stool screeching as it slid over the floor. "I need to go home." Chas only nodded in response, sending him a small smile. "It'll be okay, love. Just make sure you apologize properly."Aaron swallowed against the tightness in his throat, eyes welling up. "I will." He strode from the Woolpack with long, purposeful strides. He needed to see his husband; he'd left it too long already, let the aftermath of the fight fester. His mind flashed back to Robert's sleeping face the night before, seeing through eyes no longer tinted red with anger the tiredness there, the legitimate exhaustion. How long had Robert waited up for him after he walked out? How long had his sick, emotionally drained husband been forced to forego the sleep he desperately needed? His eyes watered with regret. He was such a damn asshole. How could he have left Robert alone all day, especially after a doctor's visit where he'd been diagnosed with recurring dissociative episodes that left him vulnerable and confused at unexpected times? His breath quickened. He'd left Robert by himself for a long time. What if it had happened again while he was gone? His husband could be lost or hurt or worse. It hadn't even crossed his mind when he'd slipped out that morning that he needed to worry about that, that he needed to call someone to come over and stay with him or lock the windows and doors- He came to an abrupt halt.It had occurred to him to lock the doors. When he'd come home angry and slightly drunk the night before, he had paused in the hallway outside of his and Robert's bedroom and that very thought had popped into his head. And he’d… locked… from the outside...He was running before the thought was fully formed. The Mill came into view and he ran even faster. He'd locked his husband inside their bedroom. He'd locked him in and left him all day. His sick husband. Tears clouded his vision and escaped down his face as he yanked the front door open and staggered inside. "Robert?" He yelled, voice cracking. He charged up the stairs, coming to a stop in front of their bedroom door.He twisted the knob, praying he was mistaken, that he hadn't trapped his husband inside, praying that the lock wouldn’t click.And.It turned easily and he breathed a sign of relief as he swung the door inward and found an empty bedroom. He slumped against the wall, rubbing at his eyes. At least Robert wasn’t stuck inside all this time. One crisis was averted. Now he just needed to find his husband. He tried Robert's cell first, but a ringing echoing from their downstairs told him he didn't have his phone with him, wherever he was. He swallowed back the nerves. That didn't mean he was lost, wandering around on his own. He could have just gone out for something or... Aaron bit his lip. When Robert had woken up to find himself trapped inside, when he'd realized Aaron must have locked him in and left after their fight the previous night, had he assumed the act had been on purpose? Could he possibly think that?And if he did, was he planning on coming back to their home at all? Maybe... Aaron's eyes welled up. Maybe he'd left.The thought froze him solid for a few long moments before he was shaking his head. No, even if Robert thought that, he wouldn't have just absconded. His family was here. Liv was here. His doctor was here. He couldn't just leave. Which meant, he probably would have gone to stay with a relative, right? Robert had to be with Vic or Diane.Aaron called Diane first, but it became apparent to him very quickly that she didn’t know anything. Then he dialed Vic with trembling fingers. If Robert wasn’t with her… he shook his head to dislodge the thought, trying not to get ahead of himself and fly into a panic. The phone rang three times before she picked up and he was met with a steely silence on her end of the line. “Erm, Vic?” He questioned, unsure. She didn’t say anything, so he continued cagily. “Is… is Rob… is he with you? I just got home and he’s not… in the house. Is he there?” Silence. Aaron pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it questioningly. “Vic?”She finally spoke, her voice low and threatening. “What are you thinking you’re going to do if I say yes?” Aaron recoiled at her tone, biting his lip guiltily. Vic continued, punctuating each word with a hiss. “I’m warning you now, Aaron, if you come anywhere near Robert or me right now, I will call the police and report you. I swear I will.” His heart sank in his chest. “Is he... at least tell me... is he okay?” His voice croaked with regret.A disbelieving huff sounded over the line and all Vic said before she hung up was:“What’s it to you?"END of CHAPTER 34 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 35 : What does that mean?Vic was giving Aaron and her brother some space, some time to get settled and adjust to being back home. She hadn’t wanted to give them space. She’d wanted to go over every single day since Robert got out of the hospital and keep an eye on things. She’d wanted to stick close to her brother and make sure Aaron was treating him right. But she’d waited. She’d waited because she somehow got it into her head that Aaron wasn’t a bad guy, that her suspicion that he was mistreating her brother, that he was abusing him, was wrong. And now, well now she was half-hysterical, kneeling on the floor, trying to shake her unconscious brother awake after finding him passed out inside a room that was locked from the outside. Fucking Aaron. Fucking Aaron had locked him in their shared bedroom. He’d locked him inside. It was the only explanation she could think of for this and she couldn’t even process it, couldn’t believe he could do something so… so inhumane. She was wracking her brain, struggling to come up with even one alternate string of reasoning other than that Aaron locked Robert in on purpose, that he locked him in and left him alone for who knows how many hours, on purpose. Maybe he got angry. Maybe they got in a fight. She couldn’t fathom what could have made Aaron do something so awful, but then, a week ago she never would have believed Aaron could hit her brother either. And he had. He had and she’d let it go; she’d bought his whole ‘I’m sorry’ act. She’d bought it and she’d sent her sick brother home with him, expecting him to be safe, to be taken care of. What a stupid, trusting idiot she was. “Robert,” she wailed, patting his pale cheek, “Rob, please wake up.” She placed two trembling fingers on his pulse point, praying desperately to feel something, and cried out in relief when she did. It was there. It was weak, but it was there. Looking closer, she could perceive Robert’s chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. So, he was breathing at least. He was breathing. Her fumbling hands grappled with her phone, typing out 999 on the keypad.But then Robert’s eyes fluttered open, his brow furrowing in confusion when he registered that he was lying on the floor and his sister was hovering over him. “Vic?” He murmured, attempting to sit up. Vic stowed her phone and put a stabilizing hand behind her brother’s head so he wouldn’t fall, aiding him as he moved. Once he was safely propped up against the wall, Robert peered around himself in confusion. It took a few long moments for him to put together the reason he was passed out on the floor of his and Aaron’s bedroom, but when he finally did, his face paled measurably. Oh. Right. He’d been locked in and, when he’d called for help, no one had come. No one had come to help him.And then, of course, the panic had set in and he’d completely lost it. Because, apparently, he was a certified mental case now. His cheeks reddened with shame. He’d actually worked himself up into such a state that he’d passed out on the floor. How incredibly embarrassing. And his poor sister had to find him like that, like she wasn’t worried enough already about him. He sighed, letting his head fall back to rest against the wall behind him. What a mess he was.He swallowed audibly, peeking at the now open door, feeling the residual spike of fear from when it had been stuck shut. Aaron had… had locked him in. He must have come home at some point during the night and done it. But why had he left him alone in the house afterwards? Was he still so angry, so fed up with him, that he couldn’t stand to be in the same house? Had he locked him in so he wouldn’t wander off if he had another episode and then just… left? It seemed cruel and Aaron… Aaron wasn’t cruel. There must be… some other reason. Maybe, there’d been an emergency and Aaron had had to leave and locked the door so he’d be safe while he was gone? But... wouldn’t his husband have called someone to come stay with him, to come let him out? Had he been so angry that he didn’t… that he didn't care? The thought had him wrapping his arms around himself and ducking his head. Vic smoothed his hair back and hugged him tightly, just holding on without saying anything for a few long moments. Then she spoke, her voice choked up with tears. “Oh my God, Rob. I was about to call an ambulance I was so scared.” She pulled back, eyes scanning over her brother’s hunched form. He looked so weak and she had the sudden violent urge to absolutely destroy Aaron, to really seriously hurt him for this. It was taking everything in her not to just dial the police and get the asshole arrested. But, she needed to take care of Robert first because her brother was the one that mattered in this situation, not his potentially abusive husband. No, dealing with Aaron would have to come later. She shook herself, clearing her head of the vengeful thoughts, and patted Robert’s cheek lightly. “Come on brother, let me drive you to the hospital."Robert shook his head, blowing out a long, sustained breath. “No, I’m… I'm fine. I don’t need the hospital.” Vic opened her mouth to argue, her eyes wide with worry. He continued before she could. “Really, I just… I just had a bit of a…” He lowered his gaze, embarrassed, “a panic attack when I couldn’t… when the door wouldn’t open.” He gestured towards the doorway, still avoiding his sister’s eyes. “And I… I haven’t had anything to eat in… I don’t even know how long.” He rubbed his face, missing the way Vic’s eyes flashed. "That’s why I passed out. It had nothing to do with my… condition. I just need to eat some food and drink some water and get out of this godforsaken room.” His voice grew bitter towards the end and his hands clenched into fists. Vic watched him carefully while he talked, trying to discern if he was really okay after what had happened. He took a deep breath and nodded, making to get up. "I’ll be totally fine.” He was fine. Everything was fine. That’s what he kept telling himself. Vic shook her head at him. “We won’t go to the hospital if you don’t want to, Rob, but you’re not staying here, okay; you’re coming home with me. I’ll cook you something, get your strength back up. And then we need to have a talk, alright?” Robert hesitated, gauging his sister’s mood, wondering what exactly she thought about the whole situation. The door must have been locked when she got here. She must have noticed and found it… odd. Is that what she wanted to talk to him about. He sighed, but nodded, letting her help him up and support his weight as they made their way slowly down the stairs and out of the house. Once they got to Vic's place, she settled him down on her sofa, throwing a blanket over him as her mother-hen instincts kicked into overdrive. He watched her putter around the kitchen, putting the kettle on and filling a glass of water, which she brought over and placed on the coffee table by the couch. And then she set about heating up an excessively large piece of leftover lasagna for him in the microwave. At first, his heart beat unevenly in his chest, short bouts of leftover panic cropping up in manageable, but difficult-to-ignore waves. But Vic's calming presence and the normalcy of her darting around in the kitchen soon worked its magic and a calmness settled over him for the first time that day. It was safe. Here, in Vic's living room, it was safe.His mind immediately summoned up the events of the morning in contrast. It wasn't as if anything had actually happened to him. No one had hurt him. He was totally fine... a little hungry, but, overall, he was fine. It was his own fault that things had escalated the way they had. He shouldn't have been such a sensitive little flower, shouldn't have gotten so worked up over a locked door. It was silly to associate actual fear with his home, where he lived with Aaron and Liv, where he lived with his family. It was stupid and illogical and he felt like such a wuss for feeling the way that he did, but that didn't change the fact that, just the thought of returning, of going back there, made him break out into a cold sweat. He knew better; he really did, but there was a strange disconnect between his mind and body. His nervous system was telling him to be afraid and, no matter how much he used logic to remind himself that the Mill was a safe place, that there was no reason to be scared, it didn’t change how he felt. It was so irrational and incapacitating, the fear, the groundless, gut-clenching fear."Rob? Did you want something else instead?" Vic's worried face appeared in his vision and he was drawn abruptly out of his introspection. "What?" He asked, shaking his head to clear it."You're not eating." Vic told him softly, eyes anxious. He looked down to see the plate of steaming lasagna resting in front of him on the coffee table. "Oh, I- No! This is great- I was just zoned out and didn't notice you'd brought it- I'm sorry- I-"Vic placed a hand on his shoulder, and he stopped rambling abruptly. "It's fine. I was just asking in case you wanted something else instead. I could make you something, if you wanted." She held his gaze carefully, exuding a sense of calm understanding and acceptance.His tense shoulders relaxed and he exhaled a long, slow breath, before shaking his head. "No, this is perfect, Vic. Thanks." She smiled a small smile and stood to get the now shrieking kettle off the stove. Robert peered down at the food and felt positively faint with hunger as he finally, finally brought a fork-full to his mouth and chewed. It'd been almost 36 hours since he'd eaten something, not counting the few bites he'd managed to take of his dinner the night before, so he was starving and scarfed down the lasagna in no time flat.Vic brought his tea over and watched him finish off his plate with shrewd eyes, pleased he was eating, but furious that he was so hungry in the first place. She didn't ask him anything until he'd finished his dinner, gulped down his glass of water, and started sipping at his tea."Are you... are you ready to talk about what happened yet?" She questioned gently. Robert swallowed audibly, setting down his half-drunk tea and looking down at his knees."I..." He peeked at Vic. "I'm kind of... I know we need to talk about it and you have questions, but I'm just- I'm exhausted, Vic. Could we... Could I just grab a power nap or something first?"Vic's eyes softened and she nodded immediately. "Of course, Rob. Of course, you can. You must be so drained- I didn't even think. I'm sorry." She stood to grab him some blankets. "Do you want to sleep here or, if you give me a minute, I can make up the guest room for you?"Robert sent her a grateful smile. "Here's fine. You don't need to-""I want to; you need some solid rest after the day you've had, anyway. Just," She motioned for him to stay where he was," give me one minute to get the guest bed made. Don't move." She scuttled off and Robert sunk back into the sofa cushions, relieved that she was being so understanding and coddling him a bit. He should probably protest more, should probably insist that he'd prefer the couch, but... his back was sore, after lying in such an awkward position on the floor for who knows how many hours and a decent sleep in a bed sounded so, so good. He just couldn't bring himself to argue. It was a bit strange that he was so tired in the first place. After all, he'd basically woken up from a long sleep and passed out on the floor, which was kind of like napping. He'd barely been awake at all that day and, yet, he felt so wiped out and emotionally drained. Apparently, his panic attack had wreaked absolute havoc on his already very depleted energy levels. He knew it would take a few long, heavy sleep sessions for him to recover fully from this day.When Vic returned, she smiled at him, her eyes a little wet for some reason. "It's all set up for you. Go have a nice long rest, okay? None of that nonsense about a power nap. Get some good sleep, as long as you want. We'll talk when you're rested."He smiled tiredly and kissed her cheek as he passed by. "Thanks Vic, really." He told her, before walking into to the guest bedroom.It was soothing and dark, the blackout curtains lowered already to block out the daylight, and he felt his eyelids drooping almost immediately. When he went to close the door behind him, though, he froze, arm half extended towards the knob. His hand shook as he touched the cool metal and turned the bulb experimentally. No click. He peered around the other side of the door to check if there was a locking mechanism on the outside. Nothing. He gulped. It should be fine to close it, safe, but... Vic appeared on the other side of the doorway, her eyes understanding as she took in his unease. "Why don't you just leave it partly ajar, so you can call me if you need anything?" She tacked on the last part to give Robert an excuse to grab hold of. He swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, I..." He met her eyes gratefully. "Yeah, I'll just leave it like this just- just in case." Vic was sitting in the kitchen, drying her eyes with a dish towel, when her phone screen lit up with a call. She'd set it on silent as soon as her brother had retired to the guest bedroom for some much needed sleep, so, if it did ring, it wouldn't disturb him. Now, as she glared down at the display reading 'Aaron calling', she realized she'd had another reason for silencing it. She didn't want Robert to hear the phone ring, to know it was probably Aaron, and to be afraid. No, she would take care of this. Her brother didn't need to spend a second more of his time being scared.The phone rang three times before she picked up and she maintained a steely silence on her end of the line, waiting for Aaron to speak. “Erm, Vic?” He questioned, unsure. She didn’t say anything, so he continued, his voice brittle and hesitant. “Is… is Rob… is he with you? I just got home and he’s not… in the house. Is he there?” Vic felt her expression morph into one of enraged disbelief. He was skirting around what he had done rather than acknowledging it; he was pretending Robert had just- what? Taken a mid-day stroll? Perhaps, dropped by hers for a visit? She felt her nails digging into her palms, her fists clenching in anger.And then she wondered how she should proceed from here. She could pretend Robert wasn't with her, though her previously palpable fury had probably already given that away. Instead, she settled on giving Aaron a warning to stay the hell away. Her fingers were already itching to call the cops on him and get him arrested. It'd be easy. He'd already put her brother in the hospital once, recently. If she reported him for spousal abuse, there were medical records to back her up. But... she hadn't spoken to Robert yet, hadn't heard his version of events, so she couldn't do that quite yet. She had to wait to act. She had to wait. She chose to let the tension-filled silence answer Aaron's question for her. Her brother-in-law's voice echoed tentatively over the line once more. “Vic?”She finally spoke, her voice low and threatening, aimed to convey that she knew what he had done and she would fight tooth and nail to protect her brother if she had to. “What are you thinking you’re going to do if I say yes?” Aaron let out a tiny gasp on the other side of the line and Vic continued, punctuating each word with a hiss. “I’m warning you now, Aaron, if you come anywhere near Robert or me right now, I will call the police and report you. I swear I will.” There was a pause and then Aaron's voice croaked miserably over the line. “Is he... at least tell me... is he okay?” Vic made a strange disgruntled noise with her throat and hissed venomously back at him, “What’s it to you?" She prodded the red hang up button with far too much force and dropped her phone with a clatter on her kitchen counter. Then she assumed a rigid stance by her window that let her stay mostly out of sight, but still allowed her to keep an eye out for any approaching threats.Well.One threat in particular. Aaron was a wreck. He'd curled himself into a ball, knees drawn into his chest, head drooping down to rest on top of them. He'd fucked up so bad. It wasn't even one single fuck up either; no, it was one after another, all piled together in a mountainous heap.And the guilt, the guilt of what he had done... The guilt was eating him alive. First, he'd been a massive twat when he'd found out about Robert's father. He'd screamed and thrown things and stormed out of the house like a toddler throwing a tantrum. And then he'd stayed out late drinking and ignoring the fact that his husband was probably waiting up for him to come back, that he was still sick and weak from chemo, and that he'd abandoned him. Then he'd gotten home and Locked. Him. In. Oh, and then he'd left him there, trapped inside, because apparently he was auditioning for the most-despicable-husband-on-the-planet award. He was clearly a shoe in.Just as his wallowing was reaching an all time low, Liv crashed through the door, making her usual racket as she did. She plopped her backpack on the sofa haphazardly and brushed her flyaway hairs away from her face, peering around in search of the other occupants of the house. "Aaron?" She called out. "Robert?"Aaron grunted to let her know he was there, lifting his tear-stained face to see her as she wandered into the kitchen. She stilled, her expression dropping as soon as she saw his face. "What happened? Oh my- Is Robert okay? Why didn't you tell me to come home from Gabby's!?"Aaron swallowed, avoiding her anxious gaze. "Rob's... staying with Vic for a bit. He's... he's fine, though." Guilt twisted his stomach. He didn't actually know if the second part was true. Robert might not be fine at all. Vic hadn't really answered when he'd asked. Understandably.Liv looked absolutely shocked by his statement and asked her next question in fragments, as if chewing on each word before she said it. "Why would... Robert... stay... with Vic?" She scoured her brother's face, her own paling slightly at whatever she saw there. "What did you do?"Aaron gulped, gaze lifting shamefully to meet his sister's. "I... we had a fight... that I... sort of started. And then I... I accidentally... did something bad." He closed his eyes, rubbing at them roughly with his hands. "And now he's not... he's not talking to me. Vic's pissed, as well. Told me to stay away." He sniffled pathetically.Liv gaped at him. "You...?" She shook her head feeling dazed. "The two of you were fine the day before yesterday! You were all worried and protective and..." Her heart sunk. "How did things change, in just 48 hours, from that to this!? How!? I don't get it!" Her eyes were brimming with tears and she turned away from her brother and escaped up to her room.Aaron watched her go feeling slightly sick with the heaped-on guilt now. Not only had he just screwed up again and let Robert down again, but he'd also messed things up for his sister. He wasn't the only one that loved Robert, that relied on him and needed him in his life. Liv and his husband had grown so, so close. And it killed him to realize that he'd potentially ruined a really important relationship for her too.Robert slept like a baby.He'd worried a bit, when he'd first laid down, about the whole getting locked in thing. He'd worried that, as soon as he closed his eyes to sleep, someone, anyone, could just walk right up and close the door, perhaps blocking it with something heavy or secretly installing a lock on the outside while he slept.And he'd be stuck.Again.It wasn't rational. Not at all. Why would someone do that? He was in Vic's house. It was only him and Vic there. She knew he didn't want the door closed so he trusted that she, therefore, wouldn't close it. Nothing to worry about. Only he did worry.It took over an hour for him to fall asleep and the only reason he did at all was because he was so utterly exhausted, so completely drained, that his body had just taken command at some point and shut down the whizzing, whirling thoughts zooming around in his brain. But, then, he slept like a baby.When he woke up, it was on the brink of afternoon the next day. That's right. The next day. He couldn't remember the last time, in his lifetime, that he'd slept so many hours in a row. It was very odd and, perhaps, slightly concerning. He felt much better, though. His exhaustion no longer felt like a gaping chasm coaxing him into its depths. Now, he might even characterize his exhaustion level as merely 'tired'. It had been a long time since he'd been just plain old tired. The bags under his eyes had morphed into much less intimidating shadows, a huge contrast to the practically bruise-like recesses they had been over the past month or so. He even had a modicum of energy to spare when he stood up and walked out of the bedroom through the, thankfully, still wide-open doorway. He found Vic stationed at the window, a cup of coffee clutched in her hand and alert eyes fixed on the walkway leading up to her door. She was the one who looked exhausted now. Had she slept at all? He made a small noise to get her attention and she swiveled quickly around in response. There was a flicker of panic on her face before she registered that it was him. Then she sent him a tired smile. “You okay, sis?” He asked, concerned by her skittishness. She waved him off, pursing her lips. “I should be asking you that; how’d you sleep?” Robert reached out and squeezed her hand, a strangely vulnerable smile on his face as he met her eyes. “So well. Thanks Vic. I really...” he swallowed. “I really, really needed that and you came through and just... you seriously helped me out. Thank you.” His eyes grew shiny and he blinked quickly to dispel the extra wetness, embarrassed. When did he become such a sap? But, well, Vic really had stepped up when he’d needed her. It wasn’t something he was all that used to, people sticking up for him, people being there for him when he needed them. And his sister had. She’d taken care of him. She’d put his needs first, even though she’d had questions. It was heartwarming. He rubbed at his chest distractedly. Vic wiped her own shiny eyes before grinning at him. “I’ve made bacon and eggs for brekkie. Sit down and I’ll make you a plate, okay?”Robert did as he was told and gratefully accepted another heaping plate of food. Vic’s cooking was always excellent and this was no exception. He briefly sent out a thank you to the universe that his taste buds, which has been occasionally acting wonky since the chemo, seemed to be functioning normally that morning so that he could enjoy the grub. Once he’d eaten and taken a few sips of the tea Vic had made for him, his sister settled in the chair across from him, expression gravely serious. “Rob... are you ready to talk about what happened now? I don’t want to rush you, but I’m... worried.” She bit her lip, peering at him carefully.After a few seconds of mental preparation, he nodded curtly once to let her know she could begin asking her questions. "Okay, good." She paused, wondering how to start. "Did Aaron... Is Aaron the one who locked you in your bedroom?" Robert bit his lip, still averting his gaze, but nodded yes. Vic clenched her jaw. "Has he done things like that to you... before?"Robert's eyes flew to hers, his mouth popping open in surprise as he realized that his sister thought Aaron made a habit of trapping him inside their home. "No, of-of course not! He just... he must have..." He shook his head, unsure. "I don't know why he left without unlocking the door. That part, I don't know the reason for." His brow furrowed and Vic watched him like a hawk, intent on catching any signs of him covering for Aaron. Robert met her eyes, though, every word sincere. "But he probably locked the door in the first place because that's what the doctor- that's what she said to do... I-I had an episode, the day before yesterday, at the Woolpack." Vic frowned, this being the first she'd heard of it. "Yeah, Aaron and I went to see my doctor about it yesterday and she thought it was a seizure, followed by a... a 'dissociative episode.'" He mimed air quotes. His sister slid closer to him on the sofa, her frown deepening. "And it's, basically, like I become not mentally... present." He shook his head, still shaken up by the familiar diagnosis. "And, well, Aaron was pretty sure, when it happened, that I didn't really know where I was or, like, who he and Liv and Chas were... so he was, you know, worried that I'd wander off or something the next time it happened." Vic stared at him, disquieted by what she was hearing. Robert puffed out a breath, looking down at his hands resting in his lap. "The doctor said to lock the doors and windows at night, the way sleepwalkers do, so that, if it happens again, I can't just walk out of the house and get lost... So, that-that's probably why Aaron locked me in. It wasn't like- it was nothing like what you're thinking, Vic. It was for my own safety." He swallowed nervously, peering at his sister.Vic nodded slowly, her brain spinning with all the new information it had just been given to process. “But, him leaving you locked in there when he left...”“I don’t...” Robert massaged his brow. “I don’t know why he did that. We...” He sighed. “We had a fight, the night before, and..” He bit his lip. “I know he came back to the house because of the... you know, the door, but I never got a chance to speak to him. He came home after I’d gone to bed and left again before I woke up... so I’m... I just don’t know what he was thinking.” He shrugged. “I don’t think he would...” He shook his head in denial, gaze aimed up at the ceiling. “He wouldn’t do that to me, not... not on purpose.” It felt true, what he said, but a niggling voice in Robert’s head reminded him how angry his husband had been at him, how his face had twisted with rage, how he’d thrown things around their home with reckless abandon. Maybe... maybe, in a burst of anger, Aaron had locked him in and left. His temper had led him to cause Robert physical harm before. Perhaps this time, the harm had been done in a more passive aggressive manner? But... it was harm all the same. Vic eyed her brother skeptically. She'd never really considered Robert naive before. In fact, that descriptor being attached to her brother struck her as almost laughable... But, now, the way he was talking about Aaron... Wasn't he a bit too sure of his husband considering the circumstances, considering their past? "Rob... I don't meant to be... pessimistic, but you just told me you and Aaron got into a fight. Do you really believe that the same night you had a fight Aaron also just accidentally locked you in your bedroom and left you stuck in there all damn day?"Robert looked away, still trying to deny her words in his own head. "He wouldn't do that, Vic, even if he was angry. He's not like that. He doesn't hurt people.""He put you in the hospital less than a week ago!" Vic hissed. "He got angry and he hit you. What do you call that?"Robert rubbed his eyes. "That was different. Come on, Vic. He'd just found out I'd cheated on him. He was entitled to a good punch."Vic's eyes blazed. "No. He. Was. Not." She moved closer to her brother and squeezed his knee. "Please, please, Robert, I need you to see that. That was not okay. Him reacting that way was not okay."Robert bit his lip and then hesitantly nodded. "Fine, okay. Maybe, he shouldn't have done what he did, but he apologized and he promised he wouldn't do it again. You were there. He- he was really sorry about it, Vic." Vic nodded. "Yeah, he did seem sorry, but Rob..." She paused, considering how to say the next part. "That's- I mean, that's exactly what you hear in stories about abuse, isn't it? The abuser hurts someone and then they apologize and act all sorry after. And then they do it again and apologize again. It's... it's practically textbook, Robert." Robert stared at her, fish mouthing for a long moment before shaking his head vehemently. "He's not- geez, Vic, he's not an abuser. Stop saying that. You've got it so wrong." Vic crossed her arms, jerking her head at him to indicate that he should continue. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair. "Okay, he has a temper, yes. He reacts badly sometimes out of anger and there have been times when he's lashed out physically at the people around him. It doesn't happen often... but it does... it does happen." Robert swallowed, ignoring Vic's conspicuously raised eye brow. "But, he's been working on all of that, okay. He's... and this is private so don't you dare tell him I told you this, but he's been going to see a therapist once a week to... to talk through things and work on managing it better. And, he's getting better; his control is better. You have to understand how high emotions were running that night, Vic. He'd just gotten out of prison and I told him I'd cheated. I sprung it on him, too. It was... I really handled it badly, how I told him, and he just lost it for one second. He only hit me once, though, Vic. You don't understand... He hit me once and then walked away. That's... he controlled himself really quickly. He's gotten loads better and he's still working at it, still improving." When Robert pressed pause on his babbling and peered at his sister, he was surprised to see that Vic's fists were clenched and she was glaring. "Wha-?""Are you telling me he's hit you before and not walked away?" Vic hissed at him angrily.He paled. "Not like that- I- I used to be such an asshole to him. We've got into scuffles before, but it's not like what you're making it out to be." He interrupted Vic again when she opened her mouth to argue. "Vic, I'm serious. He's not abusive. I'm telling you that you've got it wrong and I really, seriously need you to hear me."Vic frowned at him before saying quietly, her voice pained. "Maybe, you just can't see it. Maybe, you're so close, you can't see what he's doing-""Vic, I know what abuse looks like and what's happened over the course of my relationship with Aaron is not it!" Robert half-shouted at her, fed up with her judging Aaron and not listening to him. Then his eyes widened and he stared at his sister, in shock over what he’d just accidentally revealed, after all this time hiding it. There was a long silence. "What...? What does that mean: you know what abuse looks like?" Vic asked him, voice small, eyes scared. "Why would you say that!?""What does...? Robert, what does that mean?"END of CHAPTER 35 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 36 : Broken beyond repair"What...? What does that mean: you know what abuse looks like?" Vic asked him, voice small, eyes scared. "Why would you say that!? What does...? Robert, what does that mean?"Robert shook his head minutely attempting to come up with a cover, a way to backtrack because shit! He’d just gotten so upset because of what she was implying about Aaron that he’d blurted it out. “I- No, I didn’t- I-“ His brain was short circuiting. What could he even say at this point? What excuse could he give? “I just meant-“ “Who abused you?” Vic cut him off bluntly, her eyes brimming with tears but focused, so focused, on her brother’s face.Robert stared at her for another long moment before his shoulders drooped in defeat and he finally gave in. His gaze lifted to the ceiling as he recollected the events he’d buried deep in his psyche. “You were... kept away from it... I don’t think you were ever even around when it was happening, but...” He took a deep breath. “Dad... He... knocked me about a bit, when I... was still living at home.” Vic gaped at him in horror. He couldn’t meet her eyes. “Dad?” She asked, half disbelieving and half appalled. “Our... our dad?”Robert nodded, gaze finally lowering to take in his sister’s reaction. Did she believe him? She wasn’t looking at him anymore, eyes trained on a distant spot on the carpet. He figured she deserved a bit more of an explanation so he continued his story hesitantly. “I wasn’t, you know... I wasn’t the son he wanted...” He scratched the back of his head, the familiar shame of being rejected by his own father creeping over him. “It started when I was pretty young, maybe five or six. He must have seen... something in me, something not right, because he really, really hated me, right from the beginning...” Vic watched him talk, a hand covering her mouth, tears rolling down her cheeks. “It didn’t get really bad though until... well, until mom...” He trailed off, still not really able to talk about his mother’s passing. He shook himself and went on. “He was just so angry after he lost her, more than he’d ever been before. And she... well, she wasn’t around anymore so he didn’t really have to... hide it, what he was doing to me.” Vic sobbed and he shot her an apologetic look. “I mean... I still had to go to school and stuff so he couldn’t mark me up too bad, but... it was... a bad time...” Vic reached out and grabbed his hand tightly in both of hers and he felt tension drain from his frame upon knowing that she believed him. “I never told you... well, I never told anyone until about a year ago when it all came up with Aaron, but he- dad- he knew... about me; he caught me with a boy...” Vic’s grip oh his hand tightened and she seemed almost frozen as, suddenly, her brother, the way he was, all seemed to make so much sense, as the quintessential puzzle piece in his life story snapped into place. “I probably don’t really need to tell you that he... I mean, obviously he reacted... badly...” He trailed off again before piping up with. “I know it probably didn’t seem like it ‘cause I wasn’t the best brother to you growing up, but... I did my best to look out for you... I spent my early life making absolutely sure that dad never hurt you or Andy. I watched out for the signs so that if he ever turned the violence on either of you, I’d be able to step in and get you guys out of the house-” Vic threw her arms around him and cried into his neck with reckless abandon. He swallowed before hesitantly hugging his sister to him and burying his face in her hair. They stayed like that for a long while, the light outside weakening as the the sun started descending from its pinnacle.Eventually, Vic pulled back, sniffling and wiping her eyes. Robert watched her carefully, knowing he'd just destabilized her world by telling her the truth about his childhood. She straightened up, though, and met his worried gaze steadily. "Thank you for telling me the truth. I wish..." She paused, forehead wrinkling. "I wish you'd felt like you could tell me before now, but, knowing you, you probably didn't say anything all this time for my sake anyways." Robert shrugged and she took the movement as confirmation, frowning at him. She hesitated, her brow furrowing. "Did Diane... Did she know what dad was doing?" Her heart dropped in her chest when Robert averted his gaze. "She did know?" Vic asked, dismayed. He sighed. "I don't think she knew the extent of it, but, yeah, she did. She knew." It was another blow and Robert could see it hit her hard. Their father was gone, had been gone for a long time, but Diane... She was still present, still a part of their lives. Vic looked devastated at first. Then her expression hardened and she looked plain pissed. "Hey, look at me." Robert told her, drawing her attention back to him. "It's not like she participated. She never raised a hand to me.""It doesn't matter if she didn't actively engage in the abuse, Rob. She still knew about it and let it happen." Vic seethed, jaw clenching. "She loved him, Vic." He responded gently. "We have a lot more tolerance for wrongdoing when it's someone we love carrying it out. She's not a perfect woman and she wasn't a perfect step-mom, but she did her best."Vic ground her teeth together. "She let him beat you. There's no excuse for that."Robert's brow furrowed. He didn't know how to fix this, how to change Vic's mind about Diane. He tried a different tact. "She was a wonderful mother to you, though. That was more than enough for me. I stopped being bitter about her role a long time ago." Vic ducked her head and Robert ruffled her hair, trying to cheer her up. "You two are close, sis, and that's okay. It's great. I don't want you getting upset with her over this. Don't mess up your relationship with Diane because of something that happened decades ago, please." Vic didn't answer him, but she seemed to be listening so he counted it as a win. "Come on." He patted her back and went to stand up. "That's enough heavy stuff for now; let's go watch a film or something, get our minds off it for a while." Vic peered at him through wet lashes and nodded, hesitance still present on her face. But she followed him over to the sofa and cuddled against her brother's side as he chose a light comedy for them to watch. Neither of them laughed much during the movie, but they did manage to crack a few smiles. And that was something, considering.Liv watched Aaron mope around the house, sighing sadly every few minutes, for most of the morning and a good portion of the afternoon before she got fed up. If he wasn’t going to go over to Vic’s and fix things with Robert, then she would have to get involved. She slipped out of the house noiselessly, taking unusual care to place her feet and avoid bumping into things. She didn’t want Aaron to stop her going. The effort was needlessly wasted, though, as her brother was too enveloped in his own dreary thoughts to notice her comings and goings. It was barely a minute later when she was walking up to Vic’s place, bottom lip between her teeth. She knocked hesitantly, wondering just how bad this fight between Aaron and Robert had been, wondering if the rift it had caused was something she could fix at all. Aaron should be here, in her stead. Why wasn’t he? Vic tensed at the knock on the door, whipping her head around to stare at it. Robert stiffened next to her, but then he straightened in his seat and she could see that he was mentally preparing to face their visitor. He thought it was Aaron. But she hoped beyond hope that it wasn’t. Because if it was Aaron, if he had come over despite her warning him not to, didn’t that mean he was exactly the scumbag she’d thought he was? If he couldn’t heed her words and stay away for even 24 hours, didn’t that speak to his character or, rather, lack of it? Robert had defended him vehemently, had begged her to see his side and not judge his husband too harshly. She’d decided to reserve her opinion for the time being. But, if Aaron was here now, ignoring what she’d said, then she was about to do some shouting. She stood before her brother could and moved to the door, peering through the peephole. And she froze. She hadn’t really prepared herself for this possibility, that Aaron might send Liv in his place to smooth things over, and yet there the girl stood outside her door, chewing her lip between her teeth. Robert had caught up to her now and looked outside as well. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation when his hand reached out past her and unlocked the door, swinging it open to reveal a very anxious looking Liv. He smiled at her genuinely, if not a little sadly, and gestured for her to come inside. “Get in here; you’ll freeze.” He worried over her a bit and a tint of color returned to her cheeks, whatever nerves had accompanied her over dissipating under Robert's attention. Vic shut and locked the door behind them after glancing up and down the street a few times to make sure it was only Liv that had come over to see her brother and no one else.Once the girl was settled on the couch with Robert, Vic hovered over the two of them uncertainly. Should she stay? What if Liv convinced Robert to go back? Was that something she should stop? Was is something she even could stop? Her shoulders drooped as she realized that, no, she couldn't keep Robert from returning home to his family, not if that's what he wanted to do. She was still very anxious about his safety, not trusting Aaron to look after him anymore, not trusting Aaron at all really. But at least her most prominent concerns had been assuaged; Robert had convinced her his husband wasn't abusing him, at the very least. She sighed and excused herself to the kitchen to put the kettle on.Liv fidgeted with her hands, not looking directly at her brother-in-law. Now she was here, she didn't quite know how to broach the subject, almost scared to know what Aaron had done to cause Robert to actually leave. He'd never done that before, no matter what. He'd never left them."Liv?" His soft voice brought her gaze to his face. His brows were pulled together in concern. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"She blinked at him, confused. "Aaron said you two fought and you'd gone to stay with Vic. He made it sound like... you weren't coming back. Are- Are you?" She asked the last part hesitantly, unsure how she'd respond if the answer was no.Robert looked lost. “That... That depends on your brother, Liv.” He ran fingers through his quiff in a nervous gesture. “We did have a bit of a row and I... I don’t really think Aaron wants me to come back just yet... I kept something from him, something important, and it really upset him.” He peered at his sister-in-law and frowned at Liv’s baffled expression. “What is it?”She reached out and grabbed his hand in an uncharacteristically affectionate gesture. “Aaron told me he’s the one that did something wrong. He thinks you’re not coming home ‘cause you’re mad at him." She took in Robert's less than convinced expression and went on. "I swear, Rob, he's looked like a grumpy puppy all day, moping around the house missing you.”Robert's forehead wrinkled and he looked away from her. "Liv... Thank you for coming over here and telling me all that, but..." He trailed off, feeling oddly needy when all he could think was: if he wants me home, why isn't he the one here, now, telling me so? And, as hard as he’d worked to convince Vic that Aaron must’ve had a good reason to lock him in and leave him, that it couldn’t possibly have been to purposely hurt him... he couldn’t help the niggling doubt in the back of his head telling him that he’d finally made Aaron angry enough to snap, to retaliate. What if withholding the truth about his past was the last straw? What if it was the thing that broke Aaron’s trust in him, the thing that let Aaron see into his rotten center? What if Aaron had locked him up on purpose? Could he go back? Could he go back even still, even knowing it was done out of malice? But, of course, he was getting ahead of himself, letting his mind run a bit wild when he really ought to reign it in instead. He needed to talk to Aaron, to hear the reason, to hear what his husband had been thinking when he’d done what he had. A conversation, that’s what had to happen, a very frank, honest conversation. But... his shoulders tensed slightly and he hunkered down in his seat. A conversation meant facing his husband, meant being in the same room, and, he couldn’t explain for the life of him why, but, the thought made him afraid. Not of Aaron. Never of Aaron. Of what might come out when they spoke. Because, if his husband had locked him in on purpose to hurt him, to punish him, if he’d done that... he didn’t think his heart could recover from the pain, from the loss of love, from the care of the person that cared for him most in the world being pried from his desperate, grasping fingers. Aaron’s love was the thing that had lit the fire burning behind his eyes, the thing that had changed his insides from cold and hollow to warm and full. If he lost it now, the way he’d lost every ounce of love his father had for him when he was younger, he didn’t think he could bounce back and recover, didn’t think he could go back to how he was before, thick-skinned and materialistic and not attached to anyone. He’d lose his mind, his last hold on his sanity. So, a conversation needed to happen, but he didn’t know if he could survive its conclusion. Liv waited patiently while Robert struggled with the thoughts circling round and round inside his head. She watched the way his forehead crinkled with worry and his hands clenched together in a self-fortifying gesture. He was gearing up for something that scared him. She hoped that meant he was going to talk to Aaron after all.A few more seconds passed and then Robert spoke with a hitched breath. “I need you to play messenger for a minute. Will you do that for me, Liv?” He asked it carefully, voice cracking with nerves Liv couldn’t place the origin of. She nodded, though, happy with any course of action that involved communication between her two favorite people actually happening. Robert rewarded her with a small smile for her willingness. “If... if Aaron wants to speak to me, if he really does want to, then tell him...” He swallowed, closing his eyes. “Tell him I’ll be at the Woolpack at seven tonight and we can... we can talk there.” Robert nodded, steeling himself. “We can talk there.”Liv couldn’t help her frown. Robert wanted to go to a public place to have a private discussion? Why? Her brother and Robert were private people. They didn’t hash out their issues in front of others; they never did that. But it seemed like that option was what made Robert the most comfortable at the moment so she nodded her head and told him she’d pass the message along.On her way out the door she hesitated, spinning back around to wrap her arms around Robert’s middle. “I hope you come home soon. I miss you.” Robert placed a kiss on top of her hair. “I miss you too, sweetheart.” And then he reluctantly let her go, stomach twisting with stress over the meeting he’d just signed himself up for, the meeting he knew might leave him broken beyond repair. END of CHAPTER 36 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 37 : Try again tomorrowAaron was early.He was sat at the bar in the Woolpack, nursing a pint to steady his frayed nerves and waiting with bated breath for his husband to walk through the door. Liv had pulled off a miracle, somehow convincing Robert to talk to him after his appalling behavior. She'd slipped out of the house without him even knowing and come back with a message and a meeting time. He'd left their home almost immediately after and walked to where he was now because... he couldn't wait another second to tell Robert what had happened, to tell him the truth, and to apologize, to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness, if that's what it took. Waiting at home was killing him. So, now he was waiting here. Chas had already come over and probed him with questions, but he'd told her he didn't know and he was meeting with Robert soon to talk about it all. She'd left him alone after that, occasionally casting reassuring looks in his direction, but otherwise letting him sit in jittery silence.When Robert finally walked in, Aaron stood up nervously and waited awkwardly for his husband to approach him, the hesitance in Robert's steps as he did making him unspeakably sad. "Hi." He croaked, uneasy when Robert didn't maintain eye contact for longer than a second. He swallowed noisily and then jerked his head at their usual table in the corner. "D' you wanna sit?" Robert nodded and followed him over, sliding into the opposite side of the booth. There were a few long, tense moments where they both fiddled restlessly with their hands before Aaron broke the silence, serving the words he'd been waiting to say up like they'd burned him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” Robert looked surprised at that and he went on, half-babbling. "I shouldn't have reacted how I did when I found out about your dad. I got lost in my head and I only thought about myself and my own hurt feelings." He swallowed down the shame and kept pushing the words out. "But sharing that was probably really, really hard for you to do and I... I had no right to be upset with you for not being ready to talk about it sooner. It took me half my life to be ready to talk about my own dad so I should've never judged the time it took you." He sucked in a breath, winded from his monologue, and peeked at his husband through his lashes. Was he getting through?Robert seemed thoughtful, the crease between his brows not quite so deep now. "So, you're not... you're not mad anymore? You're not ending this?" The question was strangely hesitant and Aaron's heart sunk in his chest."No!" He almost shouted the word. It had an immediate effect, though, and Robert's tense shoulders relaxed. "No, Rob, I- I love you and I'm an idiot and I know I've got a long way to go when it comes to getting my temper under control. I know that. But, you're- I don't want to end this; I never want to end this.""Oh." Robert's voice cracked and suddenly he was blinking back tears desperately. "Okay."Aaron made a strange noise in the back of his throat and immediately slid around to Robert's side of the booth, wrapping tentative arms around his husband. Robert melted into his embrace like he'd never been gone from it.They stayed tucked into each other for a while, Robert trying to establish control over his tear ducts, which seemed so much quicker to activate since his surgery. When he had calmed a bit, he pulled back from Aaron, taking a long breath. There was more to talk about; they weren't done, but he didn't feel like he was about to step off the edge of a cliff anymore. Aaron didn't want to break up, didn't want to leave him. That was more than he'd dared hope for, even with Liv's reassurances. So, now, he could ask the question that'd been bothering him since he’d encountered his locked bedroom door. “Did you... did you do it on purpose, Aaron? When you left... did you lock me inside that room to... to punish me?” The words came out and Robert suddenly couldn’t bear to look in his husband’s direction... because what if the answer was yes? Aaron froze up next to him and then his head swung back and forth jerkily in denial. “No. God, Robert, no. I...” He scrubbed at his face roughly. “It was an accident, I swear to you. I got back home after you’d already gone to bed and I thought of what the doctor had said and I locked the door to keep you safe. I promise that’s why I did it.” He glanced beseeching at Robert, but his husband didn’t meet his eyes. “I was still pissed so I went and slept on the couch downstairs and then, when I woke up in the morning, it was still early and I didn’t feel like, you know... talking to you yet so I slipped out and went to work.” He gulped as Robert’s eyes remained downcast, but continued, hoping his recount would at least explain his actions, even if it couldn’t excuse them. “I was angry all day, so angry that I just didn’t want to think about you or us and I spent the whole time at work just trying to distract myself. I left pretty late and then I went to the Woolpack and talked to mum or, well, she talked to me. Set me straight, made me realize I was being an asshole, not to mention a hypocrite. I left straight away because I knew I needed to apologize to you, that I’d taken way to long to come to my senses and put things right. I started walking home and that’s when I remembered, Rob. That’s when I remembered what I’d done and I...” His eyes teared up. “I ran home. I ran. But when I got there, the door was already open and you were gone.” A tense silence fell over them and Aaron stared at Robert’s half-hidden face, waiting to find out if his husband could forgive him for what had happened. It took a few minutes for Robert to process it all, to let himself believe the words. It wasn’t on purpose. It wasn’t. This wasn’t his past repeating itself. Aaron wasn’t his dad. He sucked in a deep breath and met his husband’s eyes carefully, searching them one last time for signs that he wasn’t being honest. But he was. He was and, so, things were okay.He wrapped tentative fingers around Aaron’s hand, reestablishing contact. “Okay.” He said. “Okay, I can deal with that. An accident. Forgetfulness. You weren’t trying to... you didn’t mean it. Okay.” The words were jumbled like his thoughts and Aaron’s brow furrowed with unease. “Rob, you know I would never do that, right? I’d never lock you in a room and leave you there intentionally.” His eyes scanned his husband’s face. “I’d never do something to punish you or harm you-” As soon as he said it, he winced, shoulders sagging under the weight of his guilt. “I know I’ve done wrong by you on that count before... I’ve lashed out and...” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’ve hurt you.” His gaze dropped in shame. “But I don’t want you to feel unsafe with me. I don’t ever want you to feel unsafe.” He tugged roughly at his hair, agitated by his own shortcomings. “I’m working on it. I swear I am. Managing my temper and my triggers, I’m finding better outlets, ones that aren’t destructive to myself or to the people around me. I’m- it’s slow- progress is, but I swear-“Robert pulled him forward into a hug, cutting off his rambling. “Hey, it’s okay. I know you’ve been trying in therapy and at home. I trust you and I do feel safe with you. I do.” He scratched gently at Aaron’s scalp, feeling his breathing slow as he calmed. “It’s all okay, now. We’re okay.” Aaron buried his face in Robert’s shoulder and asked tentatively, “Does that mean... Are you going to come home?” Robert stilled, nerves tingling with residual anxiety. But then he nodded slowly in affirmation. “Yeah, I’m going home.”“Let me guess, you forgave him?” Was what Vic answered her door with. Robert eyed her nervously, biting his lip, and shrugged. “It’s Aaron...” Vic’s eyes hardened and he realized that wasn’t a good enough reason for his sister so he continued. “It was an accident. He apologized for everything.” Vic shook her head, but her posture relaxed in defeat. “I can’t stop you.” She muttered sadly. “But Robert, you can’t let him get away with something like that again, do you hear me? If anything happens to you, anything at all, you tell Aaron that, next time, I’m calling the police first and asking questions second. You make sure he understands that.” Her eyes flashed with protectiveness and, instead of being upset, Robert felt warmth blossom in his chest. She really, truly loved him. Even after he’d told her about their dad and Diane, after he’d heaped dirt over all her childhood memories. She loved him still. He could see it. He could feel it. So he hugged her extra tightly when he said, “Thanks Vic, for everything.”Liv’s face lit up like Christmas had come early when Robert stepped back into the Mill, Aaron at his side grinning. She sprang up from where she’d been sitting on the sofa and launched herself at her brother-in-law. “You’re back!” And then she was looking up into his face pleadingly. “You are back, right?”Robert smiled down at her. “I’m back.” She squeaked gleefully and squeezed him around the middle. He ruffled her hair and, for once, she didn’t complain and just hugged him tighter.The night was strangely normal, considering their recent separation. They ordered in and Robert and Aaron listened to Liv chatter on about school and the latest drama with Gabby. Then they sat down to watch crap television, none of them caring about what played on the screen because all they could focus on was how right it felt that the three of them were in each other’s company again. None of them broached the topic of Robert’s previous absence. None of them spoke of the struggles plaguing their daily lives. They just sat and soaked up each other’s presence, content for one night to just not talk.When it finally came time to call it a night and go up to bed, Robert felt his pulse quicken, his previous anxiety returning at the thought of going upstairs, of going back into his and Aaron’s bedroom. He swallowed it down, smoothing his clothes in a nervous gesture, and followed his husband to bed. When their bedroom door came into sight, though, he stopped short, his feet refusing to take him further.Aaron shuffled into their room, not noticing at first that Robert was no longer with him. He pulled out some pajamas from the dresser and turned to hand Robert his own sleep clothes, but Robert wasn’t there. Aaron’s brow furrowed as he moved back towards the door and looked out to see his husband standing there, frozen. “Rob?” He asked gently, walking towards him. “Are you okay?” He glanced back at their room. Was Robert afraid to go inside? “Fine.” Robert managed to mutter, but his heart was beating like thunder in his chest. “I need…” He closed his eyes, raising a trembling hand to grab the material of Aaron’s shirt, clutching at it desperately. “I’m sorry, it’s irrational, but I need you to promise me- I need you to swear to me- that you won’t- that when I wake up, this door won’t be closed.” His words finished as a tight-throated whisper and he couldn’t even look at Aaron out of sheer embarrassment. He felt so weak, so vulnerable, so needy for having to ask his husband this, for being afraid to go into a room. There was a quiet gasp and Aaron was wrapping his arms around him in a crushing embrace, tears welling up in his eyes because look what he’d done. He’d made his husband afraid, made him feel scared in their own home. His voice came out like a croak. “Rob, baby… I'm so sorry. I’ll never do it again. I promise. I swear.” Robert buried his head in his shoulder and Aaron felt a wetness there. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered, running his fingers soothingly through his husband's blonde hair. Robert waited until his eyes were once again dry before pulling back and cracking an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I…” He shrugged, not knowing how to explain his inexplicable anxiety.“Shush, you have nothing to apologize for.” Aaron told him gently, thumbing away the remnants of tear tracks down his husband’s cheek. “What I did… I made you feel unsafe. I’m the one who’s sorry.” Robert shook his head. “I’ve already forgiven you. You don’t have to keep apologizing.” He squeezed Aaron’s hand. “I’m... more anxious than I used to be.” He told Aaron quietly. “It’s strange. Things that used to just bounce right off of me… they don’t anymore.” He rubbed at his eyes, frustrated with himself. Aaron rubbed his back comfortingly. “The doctor said that changes like that might happen, personality changes. They might not be permanent; you’re still recovering from your surgery, after all.” Robert tugged at his sleeves agitatedly, his old fears cropping up and peeking out through his eyes. Because he couldn’t help but wonder... if he was different, too different… would Aaron still want him? What if all of the things that his husband had found attractive about him, all the things that had drawn them together like magnets, all the things that had made sparks fly and delicious tension burn and sizzle between them, what if those things were gone? Aaron stopped his errant thoughts and anxious fidgeting quickly, grabbing up his hand and applying a steadying pressure. He was getting better at reading his husband, at noticing when his insecurities crawled out of the woodwork to wreak havoc. “But,” he said gently, continuing from where he'd left off before, "if the changes are permanent, if you have some new quirks, that’s okay too.” He smoothed Robert’s fringe, looking him straight in the eye. “I love you, no matter what, even if you’re a little different than you were before. How I feel about you… that’s not gonna change.” Robert's eyes teared up and he had to blink rapidly to prevent the waterworks from starting up again. He drew in a deep breath, squeezed Aaron’s hand once more for courage, and then walked into their bedroom, Aaron close behind him. There was a spot on the ceiling.It was the same color as the paint on the walls of their downstairs bathroom. How it had gotten all the way upstairs and onto their bedroom ceiling, Robert had no clue. Perhaps, it had been on someone’s clothes and that person had decided to jump up and down on his and Aaron’s bed, causing the paint to go flying directly upwards through the air. Unlikely. Or, maybe, someone who knew how obsessive compulsive he could be had purposefully painted it there to drive him nuts. Either way, there was a spot on the ceiling that wasn’t supposed to be there.And he couldn’t sleep.Not because of the spot, though that was annoying. No, he couldn’t sleep because, despite the fact that he believed his husband’s sincerity one hundred percent when he said he’d never lock him in again, and, despite the fact that Aaron hadn’t even meant to lock him in in the first place, he was paranoid. He tried to think about something else, like the spot on the ceiling, to distract himself long enough to ease the anxiety roiling his stomach and keeping him awake. He tried closing his eyes and listening to Aaron’s soft breaths in and out. Nothing worked. His mind wouldn’t shut off or shut up long enough for even a short bout of unconsciousness. So, finally, he gave in, even though he knew it was ridiculous, that it was illogical and stupid and complete overkill. He sat up and slid out from under the covers, padding quietly down the stairs. It took a few minutes of rummaging quietly through various drawers before he came across what he was looking for. Some tape, a knife, and a wine cork.He made his way back upstairs, sending a quick glance over at Aaron to make sure he hadn't woken up, and then leaned down to peer into the frame-side slot, the hole that the door's locking mechanism fit into when it was engaged. He shaved off the sides of the wine cork using the knife, eyeballing the approximate size and shape he needed. Then, he slid the reshaped cork into the slot and taped over the opening so it would stay in place. He examined his handiwork, finding it acceptable and blew out a relieved breath. The door couldn't be locked from the outside now. He could sleep without worrying.He shut the door, biting his lip when just the sight of it closed elicited body-wide tremors. It wasn't locked. He'd made sure it wouldn't lock. It was fine. Everything was fine. Turning his back to it, he slid back into bed, reminding himself on repeat that he'd fixed the problem, that he didn't need to be worried about it anymore.He'd find a more permanent solution tomorrow. A temporary fix would be fine for one night. Only it wasn't, not really. His senses were still on edge and no amount of reason and logic was going to put them to rest. So he tossed and he turned, not managing to fall asleep for more than a few minutes before being startled awake by nightmares of locked doors that set his pulse rocketing skyward. Eventually, he got up again and went to the door, heart jumping in his chest as he turned the handle. But it opened. Of course it opened. He sighed, resting his forehead against the wood.What was wrong with him? As if in answer to his silent question, a long-forgotten memory flickered behind his eyes. Tiny fists banging desperately at a locked door. Hunger. His father’s face twisted with rage. Fear. The swish of a belt. Pain. The flick of a light switch. And then darkness that pressed down on his eyes for days. He trembled bodily, realizing he must have suppressed the memory all this time, that the flickers were only filling in small bits of the story, that there were likely more, worse bits that had been blocked out by his traumatized, adolescent brain. He peeked behind him at his husband sleeping soundly in their bed and sighed in defeat. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep in their bedroom tonight, wasn’t going to be able to tangle his legs up with Aaron’s and wrap himself up in his husband’s warmth. Not tonight, with the memories still so fresh. He ducked his head, upset with himself, and plodded down the steps, curling up on their sofa.He’d try again tomorrow.END of CHAPTER 37 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 38 : Safe againRobert’s side of the bed was cold. Aaron’s half-asleep brain processed the fact slower than normal and it took a second for the panic to set in, but then it did and he was wide awake and on his feet in seconds, head whipping side to side as he looked for his missing husband. “Robert?”Had he had another episode? Had he wandered out of their room, out of their house? He ran down the stairs calling out louder now. “Robert!” And then he saw him, knocked out on the couch and dead to the world. He placed a hand over his heart, feeling it thunder against his rib cage under his fingers, and heaved a sigh of relief. He was here. He was fine. Then he thought about it some more and realized maybe Robert wasn’t fine, not if he was sleeping separate from him. Maybe they weren’t fine; maybe their relationship wasn’t fine. He bit his lip, nerves abuzz, questions in his heart. He’d thought they’d patched things up yesterday, that Robert had understood what’d happened and forgiven him. But, now, he wasn’t so sure...The clomp-clomp of footsteps coming down the stairs alerted him to Liv’s descent. “What’s with all the shouting?” She asked the question, intending it to be sarcastic and lightly irritated, but instead her voice shook and it sounded like she was scared of the answer. Which she was. Were they fighting again? The night before had felt like a solid reconciliation; could it really have deteriorated in a single night into rows and yelling? Aaron was frowning at Robert when she first came down, but at the sound of her question he turned to her and tried on a reassuring smile that she wasn’t quite sold on. "Was just looking for Rob. 's all good."Now she was frowning too. "He slept down here?"Aaron shrugged, avoiding her eyes and mumbling unhappily, "Looks like it." He fussed with the kettle, the unsettled feeling in his stomach making him antsy.Liv plopped down at the kitchen table, biting her lip and watching him fidget. "Did something happen last night? You two seemed good when I went to bed..." Aaron sighed, scratching the back of his head in discomfort. "I don't know... I thought everything was fine, but apparently it's not." He gestured at Robert's sleeping form.Liv wrung her hands together nervously, peering up at her brother with sad eyes. "Do you think he regrets coming back home?" Her voice cracked on the last word and Aaron immediately stepped closer."No." He told her, tugging her into his side. "He was sure he wanted to be here with us. That hasn't changed overnight." She bit the inside of her cheek, still unsure, so Aaron went on. "Let's not jump to any conclusions, okay. That's gotten me into a lot of trouble in the past. I'll talk to him when he wakes up and ask him about it. For now, let's just make brekkie and not worry about it. You’ll be late for classes.” He kissed her on the top of her head and headed back over to the kettle before it could scream. As he moved around the kitchen, he gave himself a pep talk inside his head. Don’t jump to conclusions. Talk to him first. Ask him why and hear him out. Keep your temper in check. Stay calm, no matter what. He nodded in response to his own self-directed commands. He wouldn’t lose it again because he couldn’t afford to lose it again. He’d already blown up on Robert one time, scratch that, a dozen times too many. And if he lost his temper even once more, he might lose Robert and that was not acceptable. He couldn’t stand the thought that he’d made Robert actually feel afraid of him, afraid of something he might do. It curdled his insides. The exploding rage, the throwing wrenches and swinging fists, it had to stop, should’ve stopped a long time ago. He scrubbed at his face roughly. He’d sure given himself a lot of byes; he’d let himself off the hook with excuse after excuse. Meanwhile, he’d held Robert to an impossible standard, threatened to walk away at the slightest mistake or perceived wrong, refused to hear any explanation or qualification for his husband’s actions. Yet, somehow, it’d never occurred to him that his own behavior might be a problem. Even after the illuminating conversation he’d had with his mother at the hospital about his screwed up expectations and biased perceptions, he still hadn’t changed. He still reacted so quickly with anger, still placed blame on Robert without hesitation, still let violence take over. No wonder his husband didn’t want to share a bed with him. He drooped, posture collapsing, as the realization hit. He was all words and no action; he hadn’t changed like he’d promised he would and, now, Robert couldn’t trust him when he said he was sorry, when he swore it wouldn’t happen again. Because it already had. Again and again, like a broken record. Aaron chewed his lip, wondering how to make a change that would stick, a change that went deeper than words and good intentions. He stepped hesitantly towards the sofa, peering over the back at his husband’s sleeping face. He looked so tired, so beaten down. And then it clicked in Aaron’s head like the last piece of a puzzle coming together. He wasn’t doing enough, going to therapy once a week, talking about his own hurt feelings, trying to make things better for himself. It was always about him. His issues. His past. His self-harming. He almost never spoke about Robert, about the way he treated him and was treated in return, about all the times he’d lashed out and caused damage to his husband, who had always been supportive and strong when he’d needed him to be. He hadn’t really been working on himself like he’d believed he was, because he hadn't really been acknowledging his own shortcomings, his own flaws. How could he fix something he couldn’t admit to?But he could admit to it now; he had to. Not just to himself, but to his therapist too. He snatched his phone off the counter, dialing her office, before he could overthink it. “Yeah, hi.” He swallowed thickly. “I’d like to book an appointment outside my regular time. This is Aaron Dingle.” The receptionist began listing days the following week. “No, sorry, I... I can’t wait. I need to get in as soon as possible. Do you have any openings today?” The click of keyboard keys echoed over the line before the receptionist told him that there had actually been a cancellation and they had an availability at two pm. “Thank you! That’s perfect. Thank you so much.” He hung up the phone, feeling a strange rightness in his actions. This is what he should have done a long time ago. He was incredibly late, almost irreparably so, but, lucky for him, Robert was the most forgiving soul on the planet when it came to him. Lucky for him, he had a chance to make it right before he made a mistake they couldn’t come back from. “You’re rotten, rotten all the way through. I can smell it in your acrid breath, can see the evil lurking behind your eyes. You’re not my son. You’re the devil’s spawn, shoved on my family, a curse.” The words cut through him, made him curl up in shame on the floor where he lay, his father’s form towering over him and shaking with rage. “Sarah doesn’t see it, not like I do. You’ve got her wrapped around your finger, just like you did with your mother. Always cooing over your bassinet, singing you lullabies, like you were worth something, like you weren’t a vile, disgusting aberration invading our home.” Jack Sugden’s fist clenched around the studded leather belt in his hand, knuckles straining at their joints with the force. “You killed her, four months old you were, and you killed her. My Pat, my love. You killed her, took her from me. And then Jackie, my real son, my legacy...” The farmer’s broad frame trembled, eyes shining with tears and mania. “You’ve taken everything from me. And, now, if I don’t act, if I don’t do something, you’ll keep taking, keep destroying everything good that ever comes my way. I’ve got to protect my family, my flesh, my blood, protect them from your poison. I’m smiting the devil. It’s righteous. It’s God’s work.” His voice hissed and croaked and spittle flew from his ranting mouth. He let the belt uncoil, it’s metal clasp clanging loudly on the empty cellar floor. And then he swung his arm back, leather whistling through the air, and he brought it back down with a grunt, pupils blown with hate and murderous intent. Robert jolted awake, arms raising to protect himself from a blow that wasn’t coming, that had already fallen on him a long time ago. An exclamation fell from his lips, one half of a plea, the actual begging words incoherent. He gasped in chaotic, uneven breaths, waiting for the pain, for the cut of leather on skin, the impact of metal on bone. But it didn’t come. Instead, there was only the soft brush of fingers over skin, a voice calling to him with care and worry. “Rob, hey, it was just a dream. You’re okay; you’re safe.” Arms curled around his trembling form, exerting a gentle pressure over his heaving chest. “You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.” He lowered his raised arms hesitantly, cringing back on instinct when his head was left unprotected. But no fists rained down on him from above and no steel-toed boots kicked out towards his uncovered face, so he slowly, hesitantly let his eyes flick open. Tears blurred his vision, leeching the details from his surroundings, but he could still make out a familiar set of blue irises.And it wasn’t until he blinked away the wetness, and looked into them clearly, that he felt safe again. END of CHAPTER 38 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 39 : Now kiss me goodbye and wish me luckThe sound that came out of Robert's mouth was the most heart-wrenching, guttural cry Aaron had ever heard. His feet moved him to his husband's side without conscious direction, and then he was on his knees, soothing with words and soft touches, with anything he could think of. Robert was blocking his face, as if braced for an impact, but Aaron’s ministrations seemed to get past his fear-frozen brain. He uncovered his face, hands trembling, pupils blown wide with terror. And then green met blue and there was a flurry behind Robert’s eyes, first fear, then something akin to recognition. It took a while, but clarity seeped back in and Robert slowly calmed. Aaron kept a steady stream of reassurances going, combing through his husband’s hair with his fingers, not stopping even when the shaking abated and Robert’s breathing settled down. When the episode appeared to be truly over, he finally questioned quietly. “What got you so scared, babe? Will you tell me?”Robert clung onto him tightly, burying his face in his chest. “I... I had a dream about my father...” He felt Aaron stiffen at the words and bit his tongue, stoppering up the rest. What the hell was he thinking? Like Aaron needed to hear about something like that. Like he needed to relive everything he’d gone through with Gordon just so Robert could let off steam about a bad dream. How selfish could he be? He sucked in a shuddering breath and then pushed himself upright, creating some physical distance from his husband. He couldn’t break down this way. This was his burden and he couldn't put it on Aaron. He wouldn’t. Their previous fight entered his mind and he bit his lip, unsure. Aaron had been angry when he’d held stuff back about his dad before. The memory of shattering glass and crippling disappointment aimed in his direction made him flinch inwardly. Wasn’t it wrong to open up about this when he knew that it might be triggering for Aaron, that it might negatively affect his mental health? Wasn’t it wrong and so, so selfish? Wasn’t it?But if he kept it to himself, he'd be repeating the exact same mistake again, the mistake that had gotten him locked up- No. No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t on purpose. It wasn’t a punishment. And Aaron had apologized for getting angry; he’d said opening up about past trauma was Robert’s decision, that it couldn’t be rushed... so that meant, if he didn’t want to talk about it... Aaron wouldn’t be mad at him, right? Somehow, despite their recent talk and reconciliation, he still wasn’t sure. If he held stuff back again, Aaron would be upset. He would. And he’d just got him back; he’d just dodged the consequences for yet another screw up and moved back into their home... He didn’t want to mess up again. He didn’t want to fight and lose all of this again. He couldn’t take it. He needed them, Aaron and Liv. He needed them. He tore his lip from between his teeth and opened his mouth to force out the words, the truth he didn’t want to tell. A hand clamped down over his mouth, gently but firmly, and he met Aaron's eyes, surprised. "Not until you're ready, though." Aaron told him softly, expression pinched. "You take as long as you need and talk to me about it when you're ready, not a second before." Aaron removed his hand and placed a chaste kiss on his husband's lips. Robert gazed at him in wonderment, mouth slightly agape. "You won't be... You won't be upset if I don't want to talk about it yet? You won't be mad?" His voice shook slightly, but he held Aaron's gaze as he asked the question.Aaron looked unfathomably sad, but immediately nodded, raising a hand to his cheek to wipe away the wetness there. "I won't get mad. I never should've gotten mad in the first place. It's yours, Robert. It's your past, your pain, your trauma. You can choose where and when and with who, you share it. I'm so sorry about before; I'll never stop being sorry."Robert just shook his head and leaned in, pressing his lips to Aaron's in a sweet, deep kiss, pulling back after a few long moments to rest his forehead against his husband's. "Thank you." He whispered, grateful.After that, Aaron made Robert some breakfast (toast) and they sat together on the sofa, watching television and letting the air settle around them. After about an hour, though, Robert started to fiddle with Aaron’s sleeve, fidgeting in his seat and shooting him searching looks. He finally spoke, eyes averted, and Aaron immediately turned off the television and paid full attention. “You didn’t ask me...” Robert started, his nerves apparent. “You didn’t ask why I... slept down here.” He bit his lip, peeking up at Aaron. “I was going to.” Aaron responded, threading his fingers between his husband’s. “But you woke up rough and it seemed like a good idea to wait.”Robert sighed, a light pink coloring up his cheeks. “I couldn’t sleep. It was stupid. I know how stupid it was, but I kept worrying about the door getting locked again.” Aaron’s brow furrowed and Robert rushed on. “Not because I don’t trust you. I do. It’s just... I think maybe...” He scrubbed at his face. “I think something happened, when I was younger, and the incident, getting locked in, seems to have triggered the memory... so now I’m getting bits and pieces. They’re coming back all jumbled up and disordered, but they’re memories. They’re real memories, I think...” He trailed off as he saw tears running down Aaron’s face. “Aaron-?”“Fuck, fuck! I’m sorry.” Aaron pulled him into his chest and buried his head in the crook of his neck. “I didn’t realize it was a trigger for you. That makes what I did so much worse! Fuck, I’m so sorry.”“Aaron, hey, stop. You didn’t know and you didn’t do it on purpose. It’s okay.” Robert rubbed his back soothingly. “I’m not telling you to make you feel bad; you’ve apologized enough and I know you’re carrying a lot of guilt around about what happened. Ssh, it’s alright.” Aaron pulled back and wiped his eyes. “Sorry, I’m making this about me when it’s not.” He picked up Robert’s hand and squeezed. He sniffled quietly and then met his husband’s gaze. “So you think what’s coming back really happened, then? And your mind buried it all this time?”Robert shrugged. “It sounds crazy... That I could have blocked it out for decades and then suddenly remember, but... it felt so real. And I did... I mean,” He sighed, eyeing Aaron carefully, “I did lose time, when I was a kid especially. I’d wake up not knowing how I got places... and, sometimes, I’d have gaps in my memory that were days long, weeks sometimes...”Aaron stared at him, shocked once more by the realization that Robert’s childhood had been a nightmare too, that he’d managed to hide it for so long, even from those closest to him. “None of your family noticed this?” He found himself asking, flabbergasted. “They didn’t notice you blacking out and forgetting entire days?” It made him angry, not just at Jack, but at all of them, Vic and Andy and Diane. How could they not have seen their own flesh and blood falling apart to that degree?Robert scratched at the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I wasn’t very close with any of them, Aaron. Vic was younger than me, too young to understand things weren’t right between dad and I; she was sweet and good and I was so screwed up that I was almost scared to be around her, scared that, if I got too close, I’d rub off on her and he’d hate her too.”“Oh, Rob.” Aaron shook his head, saddened. He squeezed Robert’s knee, offering physical comfort in place of words he didn’t know how to say. “Andy was... I don’t know, he just... he loved my father, you know? He loved him and dad... dad loved him back. I don’t think he could see past that, could see anything other than the honest, down-to-earth guy that had adopted him when he needed a family.” Robert shrugged, a faraway look in his eyes. “And Diane... She believed him, what he said about me, what he thought about me. She believed it all, never thought to question it, to question him.”Robert’s shoulders slumped and Aaron gathered him up in his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you didn’t have anyone back then to help you, to notice. Thank you for talking to me about it.” He kissed the top of his husband’s head and felt him droop in his arms. “Let’s take a break. You’re knackered and I want to get some real food in you, more than just toast. You’ve got another chemo session scheduled for later and need to eat while you can, before the nausea kicks back in. We’ve got to keep your strength up.” He propped Robert up gently against the couch-back and stood to heat up some frozen food. Robert blinked at him tiredly. “I have another session already?” Aaron nodded, distracted by what he was doing in the kitchen. “Ugh, do I have to?” He asked, feeling even more exhausted at the thought of having to endure the weeks and weeks of chemo ahead of him. “None of that.” Aaron admonished, firmly. “You know you have to; you know what’s at stake.” Robert huffed our a breath, slumping further in his seat and feeling his eyelids droop. He’d woken up from his restorative sleep session at Vic’s less than twenty four hours ago and he was already back to feeling utterly drained, to feeling tired down to the marrow. ”’m sleepy.” He mumbled.“Uh uh. Rob, wake up babe. You need to eat first.” Aaron yanked the food out of the microwave and walked quickly over to his husband, placing the meal directly into his hands. Robert pouted, but began to shovel the contents into his mouth under Aaron’s supervision. Once empty, he pushed the dish away and slid down in his seat. Aaron kisses him on the forehead. “Well done. Thank you for eating.” “Mhm.” Robert mumbled, eyes already closing. Aaron pushed his hair back with gentle fingers. “Sleep now, babe. I’ll wake you up when we need to leave for your appointment.” Robert averted his eyes from the needle entering his skin. His second round of chemo had snuck up on him a bit and he hadn't been mentally prepared at all when Aaron had reminded him it was happening that day. He sighed, peering blearily at the bag of poison hanging near his head, the contents of which were being pumped into his veins. "Don't look so unhappy." Aaron chided, squeezing Robert's knee with his hand. "I've brought you some exciting paperwork to do; I know how you love managing the scrapyard's financials." Robert blinked at him, mouth twitching with a smile."Did you really bring me paperwork to sort while I'm getting chemo?" He was almost laughing, eyes crinkling with mirth. Aaron nodded, his face serious. "I did. It'll keep your mind occupied and keep you up to date with what's going on. I know you’re happiest when you’re managing everything and bossing people around soz.” Aaron handed the stack over to him. “Also...” He scratched the back of his head nervously. “I didn’t want you to be bored while I stepped out for a bit for my own appointment.“Robert tilted his head in question. “What appointment?”Aaron eyed him carefully. “I called to ask for an extra session with Dr. Cooper and they were able to get me in today.”Robert’s eyebrows lifted towards his hairline. “You scheduled an extra therapy session?” Aaron nodded, avoiding his eyes. “Can I ask why?” He whispered, immediately worried. His gaze flicked down out of habit to check his husband’s exposed forearm for cuts. Aaron kissed his cheek abruptly, interrupting his fretting. “What happened... me flying off the handle... getting angry and not thinking and just, reacting like that...” He sucked in a breath and met Robert’s eyes. “I can’t do that again. Not one more time. I’ve let myself off the hook for messing up so often before this and I’ve hurt you, over and over. And it’s not okay... It’s not okay for me to act like that, for me to be like that, especially not around you. You deserve better.” Robert watched him speak, transfixed, almost not believing what he was hearing. "I made you a promise when you got out of surgery that I would be better and... it might not look like it, but I-I meant those words, Rob." Aaron's forehead wrinkled and he scrunched his eyes shut. "After what happened a couple nights ago, though, I realized I wasn't doing enough. I wasn't being honest enough with my therapist or with myself about how bad my temper really was, how bad I really was." "Aaron, you're not-" Robert started, but Aaron cut him off."I am, though." He said sadly, picking up Robert's hand gently and holding it like it was precious. "I've done a lot of bad things, Rob. No one ever seems to blame me or take me to task for it, but I... I have. I've hurt people; I've hurt you." He bowed his head in repentance. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. And I won't let those be empty words anymore; I'll back them up this time. I'll go to therapy as much as I need to to make sure I really do change."Robert fish-mouthed, completely at a loss. “You... Aaron..." He blinked back the wetness in his eyes, gaze dropping to his knees as he whispered. “You don’t have to change... Not for me. I’m not worth all that... It’s too much-“A firm hand tilted his chin up and then a kiss was pressed to his lips. Aaron pulled back slightly then and waited until Robert’s eyes rose back up to meet his own. Robert sighed, but hesitantly dragged his gaze back up, taking in Aaron’s deadly serious expression. “You are worth it. You’re strong and amazing and loyal and selfless; you’re the love of my life.” He stroked along Robert’s cheekbone in a gentle caress. “That’s why I want you happy and healthy and safe, especially when you’re with me. So I have to change, Robert, but I also want to change. I want to be the kind of man, the kind of husband, that makes you feel all those things.” He smoothed out the furrow between Robert's brows with his thumb. “I love you and you deserve someone who can control their temper and think things through before acting, who you can feel comfortable talking to openly and asking for what you want around. You deserve that and so much more. So, don’t say that I don’t need to take responsibility. Don’t say you’re not worth it, because you are.” He leaned in so his face was a few centimeters from Robert’s, cheeky grin stretching wide.“Now kiss me goodbye and wish me luck.”END of CHAPTER 39 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 40 : More like a warning than a farewell"Robert?" Vic's voice echoed from downstairs. "We're up here, Vic." Aaron shouted down to her, eyes not leaving his husband's pale, exhausted face. Vic came stomping up the stairs in a hurry, ducking in and out of rooms until she spotted one of Aaron's legs protruding out of the loo. She charged towards it, clocking Robert's form slumped over the toilet. "What's going on? What happened!?" Her voice rose in pitch in parallel with her stress levels. Aaron rubbed Robert's back as he vomited into the bowl for what must have been the tenth time that morning. "Chemo's hitting him hard."Vic stilled, the deep furrow between her brows smoothing out. She'd panicked for a moment, had flashed back to the other day when she'd found her brother unconscious on the floor and she'd lost her cool. But he was fine, at least in the sense that he was safe from physical harm enacted by his husband. She blew out a breath to calm herself and then eyed Aaron with the smallest bit of lingering suspicion. She'd heard Robert loud and clear when he told her she was wrong about Aaron, that he wasn't abusive.But. But this was Aaron they were talking about and her brother, for some reason unknown to her, seemed to think Aaron Dingle had hung the damn moon. This is a man he would do anything for, that he would die for. He'd shown that time and time again. So, was she really supposed to trust that Robert wouldn't lie to her, wouldn't downplay the severity of the situation in front of her, to protect Aaron when it came down to it? She couldn't be sure. She couldn't be. So she was checking up on them. And she was doing so at random, unplanned times. If there was still an issue, it would be impossible to hide if from her and she was making sure Aaron knew it. This wasn't her first visit since the locked door incident. She'd shown up unannounced the previous night as well. Robert had looked baffled, but pleased to see her. Aaron had looked stricken and excused himself for a few minutes before rejoining them. She knew that he'd picked up on her mistrust and residual anger, on how chilly her tone was when she spoke to him. She knew he knew that she'd come to check up on how he was treating her brother. He hadn't confronted her about any of it, hadn't complained about her not calling before coming over or fought back when she needled him with her words, actively testing his temper. The only outward signs he gave that suggested he was aware of what she was doing was the way the corners of his mouth would pull downward in a frown and his eyes would grow sad. Things were tense between them, conversation stilted, but they were able to keep things civil in front of Robert. Aaron had seemed resigned and hadn't put up a fight on his end, letting her make subtle jibes at his character and be, at times, blatantly rude to his face. Robert had shot her a couple of warning glares, catching on to her tone and intentions quickly enough. She'd held back a bit more after that, not being so confrontational. But she never stopped watching Aaron like a hawk all through her visit.And now she was back for another. Aaron wasn't paying her much attention, his focus trained on Robert. Somehow, seeing him taking care of Robert like this, while he was ill, was the thing that made her soften up a little towards him. He loved her brother. She couldn't doubt that, couldn't deny it when it stared her so blatantly in the face. “Back again so soon, Vic?” Robert croaked at her, pushing himself away from the toilet with shaky arms. Aaron reached out to stabilize him as he scooted backwards to lean against the wall. “Careful, if you visit too much you’re going to give me a big head.” His eyelids drooped, but his mouth quirked up in a smile. “As if it could get any bigger.” Aaron laughed, smoothing Robert’s hair back from his forehead. Robert swatted at his chest weakly, smile still in place. “‘m ill. Be nice to me.” He pouted, jokingly, his eyelids flickering as he tried to keep them open. Aaron reached out and gently guided Robert’s head onto his shoulder. “Think you’re all done throwing up, babe? Want to try getting in bed and catching a couple hours of sleep?”“Mmm.” Robert managed to mumble before his frame sagged, head sliding off of Aaron's shoulder. Aaron swooped in to catch him before he could fall, lowering his husband carefully down so his head rested in his lap. Vic watched with worried eyes, moving forward to help, but not quite knowing how.“He’s okay.” Aaron told her, gaze soft and still fixed on her brother. “Just exhausted. He’s been up all night.” He sighed, sinking back against the wall. “I’m gonna wait a bit to move him, let him sleep here for a while. You don’t have to wait here with me if you don’t…” He ran a hand roughly over his face, not looking at her. “You know, if you’d rather not.”Vic frowned, hesitating slightly, before lowering herself to sit beside Aaron. Once she was settled, she kept her gaze fixed on the wallpaper in front of her, opening her mouth in preparation to speak… and then closing it again. An awkward silence fell over the two of them. “I don’t trust you.” Vic finally said, her voice strangely soft. Aaron ducked his head, shame pressing down on him as he listened to her continue. “I can’t trust you… because, if I do, if I believe you again when you say it was an accident, that you just lost your temper, that you’ll never ever hurt him again… if I do that and something happens to him…” She shook her head, unable to finish the thought.Aaron stared at her, feeling stricken. He reached out a hand, intending to comfort, but faltered, letting his arm drop instead. “I… I understand. I don’t blame you for feeling like that.” His voice sounded defeated even to himself. Because, even though he’d taken steps to fix himself, even though he’d started pushing forward in therapy, breaking ground, forcing progress, even with all that, he still couldn’t take back what had already happened, couldn’t undo the harm, couldn’t win back the trust. “I don’t have an excuse, okay.” He told her, finally. “I messed up, more than once, and I didn’t fix the things that were broken, the things inside of me that were broken.” He thumped a hand to his chest. “But I… I love him. I’m trying to fix myself, to get better, to keep him safe. You have every right to doubt me when I say that. I don’t expect you to believe it; I haven’t earned that. But… I know I did wrong. I can admit to it and I’m doing everything I can…” He trailed off, scrubbing at his face.Vic peered up at him through her fingers, lashes wet from tears that had accumulated without her permission. “He believes in you. So much, more than he believes in himself.” Aaron hunched in on himself, hand combing through his sleeping husband’s fringe. Vic continued, voice soft, like she was just musing, like she was talking to herself. “When I asked him what’d happened, how he’d ended up passed out on the floor and locked inside your bedroom-” Aaron gasped, but she ignored him and kept on. “He told me you must have had a good reason for leaving him stuck in there, even though he’d been asleep when you’d done it, even though you’d had a blowout fight the night before. He still believed in you. He was still so sure you hadn’t done wrong.” She shook her head. “Even after I pointed out all the warning signs, all the red flags about you and your relationship, he still defended you.” She paused before whispering the next words. “He got really upset with me... when I insinuated you were abusive.” Aaron flinched back into the wall, hitting it with an audible thump. Vic turned to look at him finally, taking a little satisfaction in the paleness of his face, in the shame and pain reflected out his eyes. “I don’t trust you… but he does. He still does.” She glared at him. “Don’t you dare,” she pointed a finger at him, eyes black with warning, “let him down again. Don’t you dare make the faith he has in you unfounded, Aaron Dingle.” With that, she stood, brushing off her clothing and exiting the loo, leaving Aaron staring after her, pale and contrite. “I’ll come by again.” She called behind her, and the words sounded more like a warning than a farewell.END of CHAPTER 40 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 41 : When he says he loves me“Did Vic leave?” Robert’s voice cracked painfully from where he lay in their bed, still sore from when he’d emptied his stomach earlier. Aaron looked up, startled out of his self-recriminating thoughts, and forced the semblance of a smile onto his face. “Yeah, but she said she’ll be by again soon.” He moved to sit on the bed near his husband, handing him a glass of water to soothe his throat. Robert took it gratefully, gulping the contents down before relaxing back into his pillow. He eyed Aaron carefully and then sighed. “What did she say to you?” Aaron shrugged, gaze trained on his knees. “Nothing I didn’t deserve to hear.” Robert shook his head, grabbing a handful of his husband’s sweater and pulling him closer, forcing Aaron to meet his eyes.“You don’t deserve to keep having your mistakes thrown in your face over and over again.” He said firmly, gaze fixed on Aaron’s downcast expression. “Babe, you’ve grown, okay. I’ve seen it. You’ve been trying so hard.” He cupped Aaron’s cheek, caressing along his jawline, pausing when he still saw regret shining in his husband’s eyes. “Don’t do this; don’t beat up on yourself about things you can’t change. The past is fixed; we can’t go back and rewrite it.” Aaron didn’t respond, still looking sullen. Robert scanned his expression, reading something in it that caused him to change tacts. He yanked suddenly on the sweater still clutched in his fist and sent Aaron toppling onto his chest.“Geez, Rob! Careful!” Aaron flailed, searching for a handhold that would enable him to redistribute his weight so he wasn’t crushing his husband beneath him. Before he could manage it, Robert wrapped his limbs around him like an octopus, not allowing him to get up.“Stop thinking. Stop worrying.” Robert whispered in his ear. Aaron sighed heavily, giving up on his struggling. “‘m going to impede your ability to breathe if I lay here much longer.” Aaron grouched. Robert just squeezed him tighter. “I love you.” He said softly, like it was a secret just for them. “And I know you, better than anyone else. I know who you are.” He paused. “I know what if feels like to be afraid of yourself, to feel like you’re walking a tightrope, like one mistake will mean falling and never being able to get back up again. I understand that feeling; I’ve lived all my life feeling it.” Aaron’s arms snaked around his husband, hugging him securely as he listened. “I won’t lie to you, okay. I was scared when I woke up and the door was locked; I was scared it meant I’d messed up one too many times and you’d seen the same thing in me that my dad did, the thing that made him hate me so much.” Aaron tightened his hold. “But instead… you forgave me again, even though I lied to you, even though I kept part of my past a secret and broke your trust. You forgave me and I got to keep all this.” He looked around their room, their home, with wonder-filled eyes. “I’d do the same for you, you know. I’ll always do the same for you. You don’t have to feel like one misstep is going to break us. You’re not perfect, Aaron. Of course you’ll make mistakes; that’s okay. Just the fact that you’re trying, that you’re going to therapy and putting in the effort… that’s more than I could ever ask for.” He threaded his fingers through Aaron’s curls. "It means a lot to me that you’re trying so hard for my sake. I never thought anyone would care about me the way you do, would really, truly love me.” Aaron hid his face in Robert’s neck, tears slipping out as he listened to his husband speak. “You’re not nearly as difficult to love as you think you are, Rob.” He whispered. “It’s entirely too easy actually.” They laid together, enjoying the physical closeness, for a while after that. Finally, Aaron sighed, pushing himself up and into a sitting position. “I should make dinner. Think you can stomach something light? Soup maybe?”Robert grimaced, not making any attempt to get up. “I’m scared to try. I don’t have an appetite at all.” Aaron leaned down and pecked him on the cheek before getting to his feet and stretching with a groan. “I’ll make you some and you just eat whatever you can.” Robert sighed, but nodded.Their front door slammed open, making both of them startle. “That’ll be Liv.” Aaron said at the same time as Robert rasped out, “The teenager’s back.” Clomping footsteps on the staircase alerted them to her ascent to the second floor and, soon enough, Liv came careening through the doorway, wisps of hair sticking out in all directions. The look of worry on her face cleared up almost immediately when she spotted them together, but they both noticed it nonetheless. Aaron sent a questioning glance in Robert’s direction, but Robert just shook his head, silently telling Aaron not to say anything. Aaron bit his cheek but followed his husband’s lead, knowing Robert would likely address the issue once he’d left the room. “‘m going down to make some dinner. Soup alright or do you feel like something else?” He addressed the last question to Liv who smiled and shrugged.“Soup’s fine.” She answered, turning towards Robert as Aaron left the room. “Are you feeling better?” She asked, fiddling with her ponytail unconsciously. “Aaron said you were pretty ill this morning so I didn’t want to bother you... But then, I felt bad leaving for school without saying goodbye…”Robert smiled at her, patting the bed next to him. She made her way over, biting her cheek in embarrassment, and sat tentatively next to him. “‘m feeling a lot better. I took a little nap, even, so the worst of this chemo session’s over with, I think.” He reached over and ruffled her hair gently, frowning slightly when she didn’t protest and swat his hand away. “Liv, hey, look at me.” He spoke softly now, waiting for her to meet his eyes. She did so, looking strangely ashamed. “Sweetheart, I don’t want you to feel like it’s your job to take care of me. In fact, I’d much prefer it if the only thing on your mind was silly teenage drama. Well, that and school work, but that might be asking for too much.” Liv breathed out a laugh. Robert smiled at her. “You don’t need to worry about me and about Aaron and about our relationship. I know we’ve had a lot of ups and downs and that’s been really destabilizing for you; I’m really sorry about that.” Liv shook her head, brushing off the apology. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” The slight emphasis on the word ‘your' made Robert raise an eyebrow. She huffed, noticing, and frowned. “I don’t really know why you two were fighting before, but I know it was because Aaron did something. That’s what he told me, that you two fought and he did something bad…” Robert smoothed her bangs back, soothing with his touch while he listened to her speak. “He was so sad when you weren’t here, Robert; he was all guilty and sad and stuck in his own head and… He’s not really my brother when he’s like that, you know. And I... it’s really selfish, but I… it makes me feel really…” She wrapped her arms around herself, voice growing quieter. “It’s lonely. The house feels really empty and, suddenly, no one cares where I am or whether I’ve eaten or done my stupid homework and I… I hate it. I’m just scared Aaron’ll do something again and you’ll leave... and I’ll lose you both.” A tear slid down her cheek. Robert pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, saddened by what he’d heard, but not surprised by it. A stable home life was the least this girl deserved and he and Aaron’s drama, with one thing piling on after the other, had chipped away at their family's foundation until it was crumbling to pieces beneath their feet. “First of all, let me clear something up.” He whispered into her hair. “It wasn’t just Aaron’s fault that we fought, okay? It was mine too. We sort of turned over a new leaf at the hospital and we promised to communicate more and work on ourselves, but that just doesn’t happen all at once. And we had a stumble. That’s all that fight was, a blip. We’re just going through growing pains, Liv; we’re adjusting. But things are so much better already, better than they were before.” Liv pulled back from him to gauge the honesty of his words. He continued, holding her hopeful gaze. "I know it doesn’t feel like it yet, but I promise you that we’re stronger than ever. I’m not going anywhere and neither is Aaron. Neither of us are leaving you.” Liv smiled at him tentatively and he returned it, cheekily adding on, “You’re stuck with us, kid. You’ll be begging us to leave you alone in no time at all.” Liv laughed, the dimple showing in her cheek. “C’mon.” He jerked his head towards the door. “Help me downstairs so we can eat whatever Aaron’s scraped together for us.” Liv stood, letting Robert stabilize himself using her shoulder as he got up as well. “You don’t think he could mess up soup, right?”Robert shrugged, answering dubiously. “It’s Aaron. He still unintentionally burns toast every time he makes it…” Liv snorted, slowing her walking pace to match Robert’s weary trudge. “He always tells me he likes toast burnt and he’s doing it on purpose.” Robert chuckled, slightly breathless from walking. “I don’t think he realizes the face he makes when he eats something he doesn’t like. He wouldn’t lie about liking the taste of burnt food if he did.”“How about the face he makes when he does like something? Remember when you made us that fancy French dessert that one time?” Robert nodded, smiling fondly at the memory. "And he complained the whole dinner about how he hated posh food and he wouldn’t like it. And then he tried it and he looked like he was holding back tears.” Liv chortled. “He’d be horrible at poker. Can’t hide anything.”Robert was still grinning as he braced himself on her shoulder, easing himself down the steps of their staircase one by one. He was focused on placing his feet, eyes aimed at the ground, mind too preoccupied to filter his words with great care when he responded. “Good thing too.""It’s the only reason I actually believe it when he says he loves me.”END of CHAPTER 41 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 42 : There was no other shoe“Can I talk to you about something?” Liv asked, peeking around the door frame into Aaron and Robert’s bedroom. Aaron glanced down at his sleeping husband, making sure he was completely out, before detaching himself carefully and following Liv out the door. He grasped the doorknob, starting to swing the door closed before halting abruptly. Liv eyed him in confusion as he then opened the door as wide as it could go. He shook his head, not wanting to explain, and made his way down the hallway far enough that he could have a conversion with his sister without waking Robert up. “Okay, what’s up Liv?” He smiled tiredly at her. She fidgeted with her sleeves, looking at the wall behind her brother’s head instead of at him. His brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”“I was talking to Robert last night, before dinner.” She told him, biting her cheek as she hesitated. Aaron’s brow furrowed, but he waited for her to continue. “He said something that made me… worried.” Another pause.“What did he say?” Aaron asked, baffled now.“Just… I thought he was doing better now, you know, after the chat you two had at the hospital. I thought he was back to his old self, back to being…” Liv bit her lip and Aaron frowned, concerned. “But he’s still not right, is he?”“Not right how, exactly?” Aaron pried carefully, watching his sister grimace. “We we were talking about you, about how terrible a liar you are, how you have the worst poker face ever...” She trailed off, her mouth quirking up at the corners for the briefest of moments at the recollection. “And then he said... he said you being a horrible liar was the only reason he believed you, when you told him you loved him.” She said the last part softly, like lowering the volume might soften the blow, but it didn’t. Aaron’s hands clenched into fists and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut in agitation. “Don’t be mad.” Liv said, alarmed and nervous now. “Don’t get mad at him because I told you this; that’s not the reason I told you, so you could go yell at him.”Aaron deflated like a punctured balloon, immediately reaching out to reassure his sister. “I’m not. I’m not mad; I’m just... upset to hear that he feels like that, sad that he does. And I’m...” he ran a hand over his face. “I’m frustrated that he’s got such a skewed view of himself, that he can’t see how wonderful he is, how much he deserves good things and love and... I did think he was getting better and he... he was. He’s come a long way since the hospital. But it’s still a work in progress. Feelings like that, the ones rooted deep inside, the ones that determine your self worth... those are hard to get at, hard to change.” He squeezed Liv’s shoulder and found her looking back at him with understanding eyes. “We’re working on it. I was going to bring it up to him that it might be a good idea that he, maybe... talk to someone, a professional, about it.” He shrugged, peeking at Liv’s expression before adding. “It helped me a lot. Still is.”She nodded, smiling at him. “Good. I really think he should. I don’t want him to feel like that, like he’s not sure that we, you know...” She scuffed her socked toe against the floor, glancing downward in embarrassment. “That we love him.” She peered up at Aaron, biting her lip, and found him grinning at her, eyes soft and filled with affection. “We’ll make sure he knows.” Aaron whispered, ruffling her hair. “We’ll get him some help and we’ll make sure.” The sound of shuffling feet and furniture being knocked into woke Aaron up. He groaned, rolling over to look at Robert and blinking blearily at the vacant sheets next to him. It took a couple long seconds before he startled upright, eyes wide and searching, to look for his missing husband. “Rob?” He croaked, worry already coloring his voice. “Babe?”He slid out of bed, ears peeled. A light clunk echoed in from the hallway and he was up and moving towards it immediately. He spotted Robert at the top of the stairs and rushed forward. "Rob? You alright?"Robert turned his head slowly towards the source of the noise, glazed-over eyes looking straight through his husband. Aaron let out an audible gasp, recoiling slightly in response to the emptiness staring back at him. Then he steeled himself and padded forward, speaking softly. "Rob, sweetheart, do you know where you are?" Robert frowned slightly in response, eyes still unfocused under furrowed brows. He hadn't made any moves to go down the stairs so Aaron continued to approach him carefully. "Did you need something, babe?"Robert looked slightly confused now. He peered down at the stairs. "I need to go." He told Aaron, sounding unsure."No, no, you don't need to go." Aaron's voice wavered. "You can stay here. Come back to bed and get some sleep, okay?" He reached out with a shaking hand and grabbed Robert's wrist gently. "Don't leave. You don't have to."Robert stared down at Aaron's hand for a couple long seconds before responding. "Okay.""Okay?" Aaron let out a relieved breath, tugging his husband lightly back towards their bedroom. Robert sat on their bed, gaze wandering aimlessly. Aaron bit his lip, watching him with worried eyes. "Go ahead and lay down, Rob. I know you're tired."Robert did as instructed, empty eyes trained on the expanse of sheets next to him. Aaron looked towards their door. He couldn't close it, absolutely not. He'd promised Robert he wouldn't. So, what was plan B?He tentatively lay down facing his husband, reaching out and grabbing hold of one of Robert's hands. "Just sleep now, babe. It's okay. I'll look after you." Robert's empty eyes fixed on his blankly, blinked a few times, and then closed.Aaron didn't let himself sleep until his husband's breathing smoothed out completely and, even after that, he kept a firm grip on Robert's hand. If he tried to get up again, he'd have to pry himself free and Aaron was quite certain he'd notice if that happened.Their hands were still tightly interlocked when morning arrived and Aaron breathed an audible sigh of relief. He sat up carefully, trying not to jostle Robert in the process. He glanced down at his sleeping husband, seeing no signs of the restlessness he'd displayed the night before. He frowned, recollecting Robert’s odd response to his query. 'Did you need something?' he'd asked. 'I need to go.'Aaron scrubbed at his face with his hand. Why did Robert say that? Why, when he was in his most raw and vulnerable mental state, did Robert think he need to leave? Was it a reflection of some underlying worry, some buried intention, that his husband hadn’t shared with him? Did Robert still feel unsafe in their home after the most recent incident? Or was the instinct to get away from where he was when he entered into a dissociative state a survival mechanism Robert had developed as a child? Could that be it?He peeked again at his husband’s peaceful, untroubled face, and reached for his mobile. He needed to do some research on this before he drove himself mad. It was apparently something called dissociative fugue. The more Aaron read about it, the deeper the furrow between his brows grew. There were cases of people who went into fugue states for days, weeks... even months, people that had wandered away from their lives and loved ones only to wake up months later wondering how they’d gotten to where they were and not knowing what had happened to them in the meantime. It was his literal worst nightmare. What would he do if that happened to Robert? He wouldn’t be able to cope with losing his husband for weeks, for months. Not to mention, Robert was sick and undergoing very necessary, very time sensitive treatment for his brain cancer. If he wandered off and disappeared for any substantial length of time, he’d miss out on care that was paramount to his recovery. He couldn’t let that happen. Robert’s survival and health, not to mention his safety, were at stake. Aaron grasped Robert’s hand in his, staring down at the man sleeping beside him. How was he going to keep his husband safe?Robert woke to the press of lips to his forehead, blinking sleepily up at his husband. A smile had worked its way half way onto his face when he caught Aaron’s expression. Fear. Worry. Concern. His smile slid off his face. “Aaron? What’s wrong?”Aaron caressed his face gently. “You had another episode last night.” Robert sighed, sitting up and turning to face his husband, his expression weary. “Okay, what did I do? Why do you look like that?”Aaron smoothed out the worry lines in his husband’s forehead, trying to soothe him. “You just... you tried to leave. I caught you at the top of the stairs and steered you back this way and everything turned out fine... but, babe, if I hadn’t woken up...” He squeezed Robert’s hand, confirming he was there once more, as his words trailed off ominously. Robert’s face fell, eyes scanning his husband’s worried expression with apprehension. “You want to start locking me in again.” He choked on the words, his eyes clouding over and his back hunching defensively as his pulse spiked in panic.Aaron shook his head quickly, trying to cut off the panic before it could take hold. “No, no, of course not. I just think we need to talk about how to handle this, that’s all. I know you’re uncomfortable with the door being closed and that’s okay, but we need to find some alternative way of making sure you don’t wander off, Rob. I’m worried about your safety, babe. I’m really worried.” Robert blew out a long breath, trying to calm his racing heart. It was fine. No locked doors. It was fine. Safe. He closed his eyes briefly, letting his nerves settle, before looking at Aaron once more. “Okay, we can-we can talk about it. Sure.” Another deep breath. “Shit sorry.” He shook himself roughly, annoyed with his own overreaction. Aaron reached over to grab his arm reassuringly. “It’s okay. I definitely could have approached the subject better.” He soothed. Robert sighed, ruffling his hair, and fixing his gaze on the wall behind Aaron's head as he spoke. "I guess, I could give you my car keys to hold onto at night. That way at least I won't drive anywhere." Aaron nodded slowly, noticing Robert's discomfort with his own suggestion. "Babe, look at me, will you." Robert's mouth tightened and he met Aaron's eyes. “Please talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling.” He rubbed circles in Robert’s hand with his thumb.Robert’s eyes flickered down to their interconnected hands, biting his lip. “It makes me uncomfortable, not being able to leave, being stuck here…” He swallowed, glancing up nervously to take in Aaron’s confused and slightly hurt expression. “You have to understand,” he rushed on, tripping over his words in his haste, “it’s not that I want to leave. I don’t; I never want to… but actually not being able to… it makes me feel-“ He scratched at his chest roughly, clawing at the tightness there. Aaron caught his hand, stopping him, understanding clouding his eyes now. “It makes you feel unsafe.” Robert swallowed, nodding hesitantly. His gaze rose slowly to meet Aaron’s, nervous of his reaction. Aaron pulled him forward into his chest, wrapping his husband in his arms and burying his face in his neck. “I get it. It’s okay.” He rubbed Robert’s back, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I get it.”Robert sagged in his husband’s hold, relief flooding through him. “I know it’s stupid-“ He sighed out, before Aaron cut him off sternly.“It’s not stupid. You went through something traumatic when you were younger and you’ve developed ways of protecting yourself.” Aaron told him gently. “You need to have an exit strategy so you can remove yourself from a place if you find yourself in an unsafe situation. That makes a lot of sense and it’s not stupid at all.” Robert closed his eyes, pressing closer to Aaron’s chest. Aaron played with his fringe, brain searching for alternatives. “How would you feel about us installing an alarm, so that we’ll know if any doors or windows are opened at night? That way it’ll wake me up so I can make sure you’re safe, but there’s nothing physically preventing you leaving. Does that sound any better?”Robert paused to think about, checking his anxiety levels at the idea, seeing if the plan induced any sparks of panic, and then he nodded slowly. “That sounds okay. I would be fine with it, I think.” Aaron hugged him tightly and then drew back to check his expression, searching for any signs of discomfort. Not finding any, he stood up, satisfied.“I’ve got to make some calls then; I want this to get done as soon as possible.” He pecked Robert on the lips, looking at him fondly. “Well done. I know that was a tough conversation for you. Thank you for being honest with me about how you felt.” He ruffled Robert’s fringe again and then snatched up his phone, already searching for home security companies nearby. Robert smiled, small and tentative. Receiving praise was always a little strange for him, a rare occurrence that always left him waiting for the other shoe to drop in the past. But this was Aaron and, if he was to believe everything his husband had been telling him for the last few weeks, then…There was no other shoe.END of CHAPTER 42 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 43 : Lost control“Who’s that guy?” Liv shot the rumpled looking man drilling a hole in the wall next to their front door a curious look. She’d only just woken up and clomped tiredly down the stairs in her pajamas to find her brother-in-law sat at the table, Aaron nowhere in sight.Robert peered over his newspaper at the man, pursing his lips. “The alarm expert your brother found on a sketchy site online.” He looked the man up and down suspiciously. “Not exactly dressed to impress is he?”Liv snorted. “He’s a handyman. What do you expect? A suit?”Robert frowned at her, but his tone turned playful. “There’s nothing wrong with dressing smart, Liv. You should try it sometime.” He winked at her before continuing in a more serious tone. “But, really, he’s a representative of a business and now my first impression of both him and his employer is that they’re careless, they’re messy, and they don’t know how to pull up their pants to a respectable height.” Liv spit out her tea in a startled guffaw, while Robert shook his head with baffled derision. At that moment, Aaron strode through the front door looking like he was very much on a mission, craning his neck to get a better look at the man’s progress on installing the alarm system as he did so. He exchanged quiet words with the handyman, brow furrowed and hands gesturing agitatedly in the air.“What crawled up Aaron’s butt this morning?” Liv questioned curiously, blotting at the table with a napkin where she’d spit out most of her tea.Robert glanced over his newspaper once more to view his husband and sighed. “It’s not a huge deal…” he started out, “but I had another…” he scratched his nose, avoiding Liv’s attentive gaze. “Well, I had another episode last night and tried to leave the house, so now he’s all,” Robert gestured haphazardly in Aaron’s direction, “worried and chaotic.” Liv’s eyebrows pulled together. “It happened again?” She watched her brother more carefully now, seeing the desperation behind his jerky movements. “Are you going back to see your doctor about it?”Robert patted her arm lightly, trying to lighten the atmosphere again. “There’s no need for that. We knew this would probably happen again. All that’s left to do is take some safety measures and keep up with my treatment.” Liv’s gaze dropped to her lap, unhappy with such a passive plan of attack. She wondered if Aaron had gotten around to bringing up therapy yet and decided to plant a seed of her own. “When you guys talked to me about that visit, you said the doctor thought the episodes might have a more psychological basis…” She trailed off, framing her delicate prod carefully. “Do you think it would help you to talk to someone? Do you think... that might make the episodes stop?” She kept the words innocent and light, but as she lifted her gaze once more to peek at Robert’s reaction, she saw a calculating look on his face.He folded his newspaper and set it on the table, leaning forward and focusing on her. His eyes scanned her face, examining all her hidden intentions, like she was a book open to the right page. Then he abruptly dropped his gaze and nodded once, his expression morphing from closed-off to strangely open. “I’ve been... different, since everything happened. I know that. I know you do too.” He paused, considering his next words. “What I went through, it brought up a lot of stuff that I’d buried and I know it’s not doing me any good to just keep ignoring it. So, yeah, I’ve thought about scheduling an appointment with a therapist…” He swallowed, eyes shining with vulnerability. “It’s just, if I do that, if I actually go… it feels like admitting that there’s something... wrong with me, like I’m broken somehow, like I’m too weak to cope on my own. And I just…” He massaged his forehead, trying to dissipate the tension accumulating there. “Letting other people see that, see my weaknesses, it’s- it’s terrifying for me.” He swallowed, eyes slightly glassy. “I’ve never had a support system like this before, Liv.” He whispered the words. “Being honest about who I am and how I feel and where my weak spots are… that’s never been an option. And if I do open up, if I crack my armor open and spill out all my secrets, if I do that and things go sideways and I lose my support system…” He shook his head, avoiding her eyes. “I won’t recover.” There was a long silence following Robert’s words until finally- “You won’t lose us.” Liv whispered. “You won’t. I won’t let that happen.” Her eyes blazed with sincerity and determination and Robert smiled sadly at her. “There’re a lot of things that just aren’t within our control, Liv. I know you and Aaron mean it when you say you’ll be there for me, I know that, but I have this tendency to drive people away. It’s innate; it’s built into who I am and I just… I’m scared to get comfortable, to let my guard all the way down and believe that I’m not going to end up alone again at some point-““Robert.” Aaron’s stern voice sounded from behind where Robert was sitting and he startled, turning in his seat abruptly. He swallowed nervously, blinking at Aaron’s stony expression, his back hunching under his husband’s stare. Aaron scrubbed at his face roughly, trying not to let his frustration guide his words. “Liv, can you give Rob and I a minute to talk alone, please?”Liv remained in her seat, mouth in a tight line as her gaze flicked between her brother’s not-quite-impassive face and Robert’s hunched form. She shook her head jerkily, refusing to move. Aaron looked stunned, his mouth popping open and staying that way for a long moment. “What…? Liv, I need to speak to Robert.” Liv crossed her legs, looking away from Aaron stubbornly. Robert was watching her, nerves still needling him after hearing the ‘we need to talk’ line from Aaron. But, he felt strangely comforted by his sister-in-law’s presence. She was staying for him, he knew, staying because she’d noticed him get scared. He felt the corners of his lips twitch upward and a warm, pleasant feeling spread through his chest. He pressed a hand against his sternum, relishing the comforting sensation of the bubble of emotional safety he suddenly found himself in. Liv was sticking up for him to her brother, too Aaron. He’d never really believed, when push came to shove, that this girl who loved her brother so much, who saw Aaron as her home, would take his side when Aaron was on the opposing end. But she did, she was. He stared at her in wonderment, his own mouth parted in surprised awe. Aaron just looked bewildered now. “Liv, I don’t…?” “You can talk to Robert with me here.” She said, steadfastly avoiding Aaron’s eyes. He gaped at her, eyebrows scrunching together in confusion and his eyes darkened with slight irritation. “I need to talk to my husband about what he was just saying, Liv. Alone.” He scowled as the teenager continued to ignore him. “Liv! Don’t make me ask you again! Get-“ He reached over and grabbed her arm hard enough to make her wince. “-up. Go to-““Aaron!” Robert shouted, eyes burning protectively as he caught Aaron’s arm, squeezing his wrist in warning. “Let go.” He tightened his grip, voice dipping dangerously low. “Let go. Right. Now.” Aaron opened his mouth to argue, but then abruptly froze when he saw a tear roll down his sister’s cheek. His eyes dropped to where he was gripping her arm with white knuckles. Time stopped. His brain iced over. There was a long, drawn-out pause. And then suddenly he was relinquishing his grip, flinging Liv's arm away from himself, stumbling backwards and nearly falling over himself to establish distance. He felt cold all over as he processed what had just happened, what he’d just done. He’d hurt her. He’d gotten angry, frustrated, irritated, and he’d hurt Liv. “Liv… I…” He shook his head, backing away even further now and bumping into the door frame. “I’m sorry. I…” He yanked roughly at his hair. “I don’t know why- I shouldn’t’ve- I-”Robert was standing in front of Liv, eyes narrowed and trained on Aaron unblinkingly, like he was assessing a threat. Liv was huddled behind Robert, too shocked to register what was happening. She clutched at her throbbing arm, still feeling the ghost of a violent grip. Aaron took in the scene in front of him in horror. And then his feet turned him around in slow motion, walking him out of the kitchen, out of the house, and away. His mind whirred like an overheated computer and he couldn’t think over the roar of blood rushing to his head and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He’d scared his family. He’d hurt his sister.He’d lost control.END of CHAPTER 43 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 44 : Monster“Aaron, you’ll catch your death out here.” Robert’s voice was soft, gentle. He stood in the entryway of the barn, looking down at his husband, who was sitting with his knees pulled into his chest, eyes red rimmed and aimed at the ground. “Come home.” Robert told him. “Just come home and we can talk about what happened as a family, okay? Please?”Aaron ducked his head. “What’s there to talk about, Rob?” He asked, voice hoarse from crying. “I messed up, even after everything I promised you. I- I hurt Liv. I hurt her! I-“ He stared down at his hands, open palm up on his knees. “I never thought I could be capable of doing that, of taking my anger out on her. It never even…” He buried his face in his hands. The sounds of footsteps drawing closer alerted Aaron of Robert’s approach. A hand fell on his shoulder, gripping it in support. “You’re not perfect.” Robert reminded him quietly. “You’re amazing and admirable in so many ways, Aaron. But you’re not perfect and you’re allowed to make mistakes, just like the rest of us.” He rubbed his husband’s back, up and down, trying to soothe him. “Liv and I talked about what happened after you left; she’s not upset with you. We both know you didn’t do it on purpose; you weren’t trying to hurt her, Aaron. You just got a little carried away because you got frustrated.” Aaron opened his mouth to protest, but Robert cut him off. “It doesn’t make it okay. You still need to apologize to her and you still have to take extra precautions going forward so this never happens again. But, as long as you do that, as long as we all talk about what we need moving forward to make us all comfortable in our home,” He tilted Aaron’s chin up so he had to look him in the eye, “then everything will be fine.”A tear rolled down Aaron’s cheek. “I don’t know why you two are forgiving me so easily, when I can’t even forgive myself.” He met Robert’s gaze, vision blurry with wetness. "I feel like I can’t trust myself to be around the people I love anymore, Robert. It’s not fair to the two of you.”Robert’s thumbs swiped underneath his husband’s eyes lovingly. “Well, we love you, so that makes forgiveness pretty easy. And…” He paused, thinking about his words. “It makes a difference, that you didn’t mean to do it. It makes a big difference. If you had been trying to hurt Liv, we’d be having a very, very different conversation right now.” Robert squeezed Aaron’s cold hand in his. “Intention matters, Aaron. It matters so, so much. Your intention was just to get Liv to leave the room; it didn’t seem like you even realized how hard you grabbed her until it was pointed out to you. And, when you did realize it, you let go right away and you looked completely shocked. You apologized right away and you removed yourself from the situation.” Aaron shook his head, unconvinced. Robert blew out a breath, eyes going unfocused as one of his recently unearthed memories edged into the front of his mind. “Do you remember that morning I woke up from a nightmare?” Aaron looked up, brow furrowed in confusion at the sudden topic change, but he nodded silently. “I dreamt about my father, about this time he locked me in Home Farm’s storm cellar. I was young, maybe four years old. Sarah was around a lot then, but she was away, out of town for some reason and Jack was…” Robert shook his head, eyes far away. “He was… unhinged. After losing my birth mum and then Jackie so soon after, it’s like he just snapped. And, there I was, this reminder of everyone he'd lost and he blamed me for it, like my being born had cast this blight over our family and caused all of his misfortunes.” His tone was disconnected, like he was talking about someone else’s trauma rather than his own. Aaron watched his husband’s face with rapt attention, his own guilt and woes set aside. He didn’t interrupt, locking his jaw shut and waiting patiently for the story to continue. Robert sighed, shoulders stiffening as he the memories washed over him in waves. “Something set him off, something small…” His brow furrowed over unfocused eyes as he tried to recall the details. “I think I broke something, maybe, while I was playing with this toy airplane I used to like. And he went mad, grabbed me by the collar and hauled me out the front door and towards the storm cellar. I remember crying, yelling for him to stop, trying to get my feet under me to stop him dragging me across the ground. It was hard to breathe, the way he was yanking on my shirt collar. I was coughing and choking and my hands were getting all cut up from being dragged.” He paused, one hand subconsciously moving to touch his throat. Aaron kept quiet, his teeth clenched together so tightly it made his jaw ache. Robert dropped his hand from his neck, eyes clouding over now. “It gets a little fuzzy in my head; I think he threw me down the storm cellar stairs and I got knocked out for a bit. But then, he was there, with a belt in his hands and I remember his face, the way it was twisted with such intense hatred. And he was looking at me like that; there was no one else there and I remember being so scared and confused because I didn’t understand why. I didn’t get what I had done wrong, what I had done to make him hate me that much.” Aaron’s hand curled over both of his, where they were clasped together and shaking in his lap. Robert closed his eyes, letting his head tilt sideways to rest on Aaron’s shoulder. “He beat me, pretty badly. I only remember bits of it, but I remember how it felt, especially when he used the metal end of the belt. I remember thinking he looked like a monster, straight out of my nightmares, the way he smiled while he did it. And he was yelling at me, all these things, justifying it, saying he saw what I really was.” Robert shivered and Aaron wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “And then he left, locked the storm cellar door behind him and left me there in the dark. I remember being in a lot of pain, just lying there curled up in a ball and crying and waiting for him to come back. I was there a long time. Eventually, I got thirsty enough to make myself crawl to the storm cellar door through the pain. And I remember banging on the door and calling out for my dad. He didn’t come, though, to let me out. I think he meant for me to die in there.” Aaron gasped and his arms tightened around him. “Luckily, I found some jugs of water that had been stored in one of the cabinets. The water kept me alive, but I grew really weak after going days without food. And then, all of a sudden, someone opened the cellar door; I’m still not sure who it was. I’d been in the dark so long that the light from outside was blinding. I remember being picked up and carried out and then… I was in the house alone, laid out on the downstairs sofa.” Robert opened his eyes, meeting Aaron’s tear-filled gaze. “It was never the same at home after that; I think whoever saved me must’ve warned Jack off because he never tried to kill me again, but he was abusive from that point on, whenever no one else was around to see.” He let out a tired sigh, grasping onto Aaron’s hand. “There’re two reasons I felt like now was the right time to tell you about this.” He raised a hand to Aaron’s face, cupping his cheek gingerly. “The first is because I need you to see the contrast, between you and him; maybe you get caught up in feelings of anger or frustration sometimes and you lash out, but you never intentionally hurt people, Aaron. That’s never been who you were. And you definitely don’t enjoy causing other people pain. Even when you were pissed at me for cheating on you, you still came to the hospital to check on me when you realized I’d been hurt.”Aaron closed his eyes, shame washing over him. “Robert, how can you say that… I- I’m the one that put you in the hospital in the first place and that’s not even the only time that I’ve… that I've hit you.” He buried his face in his hands. “You’re too lenient with me; you should be angry. You should hate me.”Robert shook his head. “You’re being too hard on yourself and you’re not paying attention to the important part.” He tapped Aaron’s knee, waiting until his husband lifted his face and met his gaze once more. “You were sorry, Aaron. You’re still sorry and you’re trying to change, to become better. I’ve seen how hard you’re trying. You’re a good person. I’ve never, for one second, had a single doubt about that.” He pecked Aaron on the lips. “The second reason I thought you should hear that story is… I know you and Liv, and even Vic and Chas, have been worried since my surgery about my… skewed self-view. And I know it was part of why you got so frustrated this morning.” Robert averted his gaze, biting his lip. “It’s not your fault that I think like that. Maybe, the way our relationship was before, the way it always felt like you were waiting for me to make a mistake, like you were ready to walk out the door the second I did… maybe, that exacerbated it a bit. I don’t want to lie to you about that. But, I also understand why it was like that, how I contributed to the lack of trust you had in our relationship and in me. I earned it.” A fresh set of tears welled up in Aaron’s eyes and he shook his head, words a whisper. “No you didn’t. You changed for the better and I was too ignorant to notice."Robert’s lips twitched in a smile. “For someone so forgiving of others, you sure are hard on yourself, Aaron. Have you ever noticed that?” Aaron blinked, reaching a hand out tentatively to hold his husband’s. He didn’t much feel like he deserved to have his conscience cleared after his actions in the past and just that morning, but he still took a great deal of comfort in Robert’s words. Robert continued, returning to his original train of thought. “Anyways, I just… I wanted you to understand that the way I view myself, that got established a long, long time ago. I was taught to believe I was some kind of monster when I was four years old, Aaron. And every day after that I had it drilled into my skull all over again, literally beaten into me.” He squeezed Aaron’s hand. "I know it bothers you and I know it’s not a... healthy mindset, but it’s the only one I can ever remember having. It’s part of my identity. So, I’ll try to work on it; I’ll even go talk to a therapist if you and Liv think that’ll help, but I honestly don’t know if I can change it. I might be stuck this way and, if I am, I don’t want… I can’t go to therapy and open up if I feel like failing means I’m going to lose you and Liv. So, please…” He averted his eyes from Aaron’s sad ones. “Don’t give up on me, okay.”Aaron half-tackled him in a desperate embrace, crying as he said. “I'll never give up on you." He kissed his husband’s freckled cheeks before pulling back and staring into his eyes. "I shouldn’t have gotten frustrated with you before. I’m so sorry. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that story. I’m so, so sorry that happened to you baby. If Jack Sugden was still alive I’d be planning a murder right now.” The corners of Robert’s mouth quirked upwards. Aaron held Robert’s face between his hands, gaze flickering back and forth to meet both his eyes evenly. “And, just so there’s no confusion, I think you’re the bravest, strongest, most loving person in this world. You’re perfect. It was never you that was wrong. It was Jack.”“He was the monster.”END of CHAPTER 44 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- CHAPTER 45 : Just for me“Geez, Aaron get inside. Your fingers are like ice cubes.” Robert fussed, ushering him through their front door and back into their house. “Next time you’re thinking of running off, put on a jacket or, better yet, go somewhere with heating. Come on, you need a warm shower.” Aaron gestured towards Liv, who had fallen asleep curled up on the couch. “I need to talk to Liv first, to apologize-““Nope. Warm shower first. Then we’ll all talk.” Robert pushed him gently towards the stairs. “She’s asleep anyways so just go up and I’ll wake her and let her know you’re home.” Aaron nodded slowly, capitulating.Once his husband had disappeared up the stairs, Robert sat down next to Liv on the couch, reaching out and shaking her gently. “Liv, hey.” She blinked slowly, eyes opening half way to look at him. “’s Aaron back?” She asked, voice cracking with the remaining dregs of sleepiness. Robert nodded. “He’s run up to grab a shower to warm himself up a bit. Idiot didn’t bring a jacket.” He pursed his lips unhappy with his husband’s disregard for his own health. “What did he say? Did you two talk?” Liv questioned, sitting up straighter and biting her lip. “He didn’t yell at you, did he?”Robert shook his head, ruffling his sister-in-law’s hair fondly. She didn’t shake him off the way she usually would. “He apologized. There was no yelling whatsoever. He’s really sorry that he hurt you; he didn’t mean to do it and it really scared him that he did.” Robert tapped Liv’s cheek lightly, to get her to look up from her lap. “He’ll apologize to you himself when he comes down, I’m sure, and then we’re all going to have a serious talk about how to make sure this sort of thing doesn’t happen again, okay?”Liv nodded and then paused, peering up at Robert carefully. “What we were talking about before everything happened… did you get a chance to talk to Aaron about that?” Robert nodded and she scratched her nose, embarrassed. “I know there’s probably stuff you don’t want me to know about, stuff you think I’m too young to handle…” Robert’s brow furrowed, but he waited for her to continue without interrupting. “But if there’s ever anything you don’t feel comfortable telling Aaron or if you just want another perspective, you know you can talk to me, right? Like, I’ll listen and do my best to help.” She bit her lip again, cheeks coloring. Robert smiled at her, warmth blossoming in his chest, and he pulled his sister-in-law into a hug. “Thank you.” He told her quietly, raw emotion peeking through his eyes. He pulled back from the hug, gaze falling on Liv’s flushed face. “I’m really grateful you’re here, that you’re so willing to help. And what you did this morning… it meant a lot to me that you stood up for me like that.” Liv smiled, blushing even further and averting her eyes. “I love you too, you know.” She said, biting her cheek. “It’s not just down to Aaron. You’re not just in my life because you’re married to my brother. And… me caring isn’t contingent on your relationship working out. I want you to know that, that I’d still be there for you even if Aaron wasn’t. You have a support system that’s made up of more than just one person. Don’t forget that, okay.” Robert gaped at her, eyes filling without his permission. And then he was blinking rapidly, trying not to cry in front of his sister-in-law and she was grinning at him, giggling at his emotional reaction. “Shut it.” He grumbled, hiding his own smile and wiping at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Geez, don’t tell anyone about this.” Liv mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key, her smile widening as Robert laughed. A few seconds passed in companionable silence and then Robert whispered. “Thanks, Liv. I…”“I won’t forget.”***Aaron came downstairs a little while later to find his husband and his sister sitting side by side on the couch. He took tentative steps towards them, shame coloring his cheeks as he met Liv's eyes. He swallowed past the lump in his throat before speaking. "Liv, I- I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking when I grabbed your arm like that; I just meant to get you to move, not to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you, I swear." He clutched the fabric of his trousers tightly between his fingers, still agitated by his earlier actions. "But, even if I didn't mean it, it was inexcusable, for me to have lost control like that... to have hurt you just because I wasn't paying enough attention to my actions. I'm really sorry and I'll do whatever I need to to make sure it doesn't happen again." He finished his monologue, mouth dry as he peeked at his sister, mentally prepared, despite what Robert had told him, to not received forgiveness for his mistake.But Liv was smiling at him, eyes a little watery after his heartfelt apology. "I forgive you. I know it was an accident." She stood up, moving forward and hugging her brother around the middle. Aaron handled her like glass, hugging her back with the least amount of force he could manage. "Aaron, stop. I'm fine. Hug me back for real." Liv ordered him, voice annoyed. His lips quirked up at the corners and he squeezed her to his chest tightly. "'m sorry, Liv." He whispered into her hair, heart aching in his chest at the thought that he could've ruined this.They stood like that for a few seconds longer, both startling at the sound of a camera shutter sounding from a few feet away from them. They stepped back from their hug to stare at Robert changing the background on his phone."Rob!" Liv complained, voice going whiny. "What're you doing? Don't tell me you're going to show that to people."Robert smiled brightly. "Nope." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "This is just for me."END of CHAPTER 45
10773603	simply angelic	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Mark Tuan, Jackson Wang, Kunpimook Bhuwakul \| BamBam, Choi Youngjae, Park Jinyoung \| Jr., Kim Yugyeom, Im Jaebum \| JB", "Fandom": "GOT7", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "5/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-30T00:00:00", "words": "3,327", "Additional Tags": "Blind!Mark, Angst, Fluff, markson, gay shit, really fuckin short chapters, AU, Alternate Universe, jackson is my ult ult, and i love him so so much, just putting that out there, but yea mark loves him too, A lot - Freeform, lapslock, i started out lapslock but got lazy so like the second half of this is just normal", "Relationship": "Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	mark knew that he was never going to fall in love. it was impossible: he was blind, so why would anyone want to date him? why would anyone want to go through the struggle of dating a blind person, for goodness sake? he had accepted the fact a little after the accident. all hopes that he would ever find a boyfriend flew down the drain quicker than a blink of an eye, but after a while, he had grown to accept it. it didn't matter to him anymore, he could live as happily as he wanted, whether he could see or not.so when the random stranger with the really nice voice asked if mark needed any help, he nearly cried right on the spot, knowing that this certainly wasn't going to end well. "um, sure," he replied, struggling to hold the packages and his cane at the same time. the stranger took a few from mark's arms and walked alongside him as mark led him to his apartment. when he got to the front door, he fumbled with the keys a little bit before unlocking the door (a task that took nearly a month to master), and shoving his way inside, the stranger following him. mark didn't know why he was putting so much blind (no pun intended) trust into this man, he had literally ran into him on the sidewalk while stumbling around with mail falling out of his arms. "where do you want me to put the boxes?" the stranger asked, and mark just shrugged. "down by the table in front of the couch is fine," he replied, a small smile on his face. he heard the man walk over and set the packages down, then make his way back over to mark. "thank you so much. it means a lot to me," mark said while folding up his cane. "is there any way i can repay you?" "no, no way at all, don't worry about it," the man replied. "the name's jackson." "mark," he said, putting his hand out, and jackson took it. they shook hands before jackson took a deep breath. "i actually live, like, right next door to you," he said. "i've seen you around. if you ever need help feel free to ask. my door is on the left when you walk out of your apartment. if you need help with shopping or anything at all, don't hesitate to come ask." mark smiled, almost basking in the sound of jackson's voice before jumping out of his dreamy state and nodding. "thank you so much," he said. "i'll be sure to do that." jackson patted him on the shoulder before leaving, shutting the door behind him. mark just stood there, his mind racing. "fuck." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- the next time mark ran into (literally) jackson was in the park, when mark was out on a walk, enjoying the fresh air and the smells and sounds of nature. he had sat down by the river that flowed throughout the park, took off his shoes, and let his feet dangle in the water as he breathed in and out slowly, glad to finally get a moment of peace. after several minutes of just sitting there, enjoying the silence, he put his socks and shoes back on before moving to stand up, but as he did so, he felt himself bump into something - someone? - and stumble backwards, his arms flailing as he tried to find something to catch ahold of. "oh shit!" he heard a yell, and instantly recognized the voice, and smiled right as he hit the body of water behind him. the smile disappeared as he realized that he was literally enveloped in one of his greatest fears. panicking, he struggled to place his feet on the bed of the river before scrunching his arms closed and thinking about the most logical solution out of this. "where are you?" he asked jackson. "over here," jackson responded, and now knowing where jackson, and dry land, was, he made his way slowly over in the general direction. he struggled to keep his breathing down as he was still mildly panicking; he heard jackson say that he was holding his hand out and mark held out his hand and took jackson's. the other man pulled mark to dry land and they fell to the ground together. jackson wrapped his arms around mark before panicking and backing off a little bit. "i'm so so sorry," he said. "i was going to jump in after you but then i realized that you were right by shore and it was only knee deep and that you were okay, i think, but then you started panicking but then you calmed down somehow? and like you made it out without any help except for the sound of my voice and holy shit man, are you okay?" mark chuckled. this man liked to talk. not that mark had any problem with that, at all, he loved jackson's voice. "i'm okay," he replied. "are you?" "yeah, i'm fine, why wouldn't i be?" jackson asked. mark smiled at the defensive tone to his voice."you grabbed onto me as soon as i was safe on land," mark said. "i don't know why, we aren't close at all and this is only our second time meeting." "maybe we should change that.""what?" "the not being close at all thing. i want to get to know you better. know your story. and maybe you want to know mine. i mean, who doesn't?" mark just smiled. "walk me back to my place?" he asked, standing up and wincing at the feeling of his wet clothes. he heard jackson jump up too; he unfolded his cane before letting jackson tell him which way he needed to go. "tell me what you look like," mark said as they were walking. jackson chuckled. "okay, um. i have fluffy brown hair, but i've been considering coloring it blond at some point. i have nice eyes, i think, and a pretty smile. i think i'm pretty attractive, actually," mark could practically hear the confidence, "and i'm proud of how well i've kept after myself." "you sound really nice," mark said softly, a small smile on his face. he heard a small chuckle from jackson before they both stopped in front of mark's door. "here, let me unlock it for you," jackson said, and took mark's keys from his hands. mark thanked him before walking inside and folding up his cane. "get warm and dry, okay? and make sure to drink some warm tea, i don't want you to get sick." mark smiled to himself for what seemed the hundredth time that afternoon. "thank you," he said. "i will." after he heard the door close, he walked over and fumbled around, locked it, then went into his bedroom to find some dry clothes. as he was changing, he felt himself wishing more than he ever had that he had his sight so he could see the man with the beautiful voice that he had met only a few days previously. he lay on the bed and pulled the cover up above his nose, tears slowly trickling down his cheek as he wished and wished and wished, knowing that his longings would never come true. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- mark had a crush. he didn't know how the hell that was possible, as crushes were based off of when you think someone's cute, right? and cuteness is always based off of looks...right? mark found himself second guessing everything he had been taught as a kid in elementary school. maybe it was possible to develop a crush based off of someone's personality (and, let's be honest, their voice), without seeing them, ever. he didn't know what he could possibly do though, jackson was just being friendly. he had seen mark with the cane and thought that he needed help so he offered his assistance. there's no possible chance in hell that jackson would ever like mark. mark threw the covers off of himself before sitting up and placing his feet on the floor, feeling the cold wood beneath him. he took a deep breath before standing up and making his way around the bed carefully, locating the door, and going to the kitchen to make breakfast. he cursed as he dropped the bag of bagels, and bent down to pick them up. when he stood up, he hit his head on the cabinet he had left open, and yelped in pain. he located the counter, set the bagels down, and grabbed his cane before going outside the apartment and over to jackson's. he knocked twice, but jackson opened it right after he raised his hand to knock a third time. "oh, hey mark! you okay?" "not...really, i usually have a relatively easy time making breakfast, i mean, all i eat are bagels and usually more and that when my best friend is here, but he's not...." his voice trailed off and he scratched the back of his ear. "i was just wondering, and i'm really sorry to ask since we barely know each other, but can you come over and help make me breakfast?" jackson placed his hand on mark's shoulder. "of course! don't apologize, it's perfectly okay. you're lucky i don't have work this morning." mark smiled before walking back over to his front door. he turned the handle and led jackson to the kitchen, where he heard jackson go over to the fridge and open it. "what would you like?" jackson asked. "just eggs and maybe some pancakes? and make some for yourself, if you haven't eaten.""i have, but i'm not saying no to having any." jackson chuckled before getting out the ingredients and setting them on the counter. mark heard some scraping on the kitchen floor, then felt jackson's hand touch his back. "i moved the stool right behind you," he said, "you can sit down if you like." "thank you," mark responded. "so where's, and who's, your friend?" jackson asked. "he's visiting his family for a week," mark responded. "and his name is youngjae. he and i own a dog, and he lives with me, but he took the dog with him so his family could meet it. he usually helps with so much, and i convinced him that i would be okay on my own. turns out i was wrong.""are you two...a thing?" jackson asked slowly. mark let out a loud laugh that slightly started jackson. "no, we're just friends, trust me. nobody in their right mind would date me, of all people." his voice trailed off and he sat there while jackson took a deep breath and paused the mixer. he heard jackson walk over to him and kneel down. "mark, trust me. who in their right mind wouldn't date you? you're...this is probably gonna sound kind of creepy, i think, since we just met a few days ago and i'm practically a stranger but...you're kind and sweet and so far very caring and i like that. you seem perfect so far. who the hell cares if you can't see? think of it at as a super power. your hearing is incredible. you can smell things differently, sense things. it's so incredibly cool. here," he said, taking mark's hands. he placed mark's hands on the side of his face and guided them around, letting mark feel around and figure out jackson's facial features. tears welled up in jackson's eyes as the boy's soft hands traveled his face, scoping out everything. he took mark's hands and said slowly, "you are a beautiful, amazing person. and i barely even know you! so please, believe me, you are worthy enough to be dated, i promise." mark took a deep breath. "then prove it." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "and then he said, 'prove it,'" jackson said, his eyes wide. "i don't understand what he means. does he mean that i should prove it and go out with him myself or does he mean that i need to get someone to date him?"bambam just chuckled. "jackson, i love you but god you're dumb. he's obviously asking you to date him." "then why won't he say so?""he very obviously just did." jackson rolled his eyes and sat down next to bambam on their couch. "should i take him out, then?" he asked, looking over at his best friend."hell yeah, dumbass."* * * mark sat on his bed, his mind racing. did he really just ask out the stranger that he had only met a few days prior? did he? he didn't even know himself. was he ready for a relationship, or an attempt at one at least? he wasn't sure of anything, at this point. he heard a knock on the front door. he stood up, grabbing his cane, and made his way over, asking who it was before hearing the response and unlocking the door as fast as he could, a huge smile on his face. "youngjae!" "mark!" youngjae set his suitcases aside and threw his arms around his best friend, grinning as he did so. "how are you?" mark pulled away. "i'm relatively okay. a lot happened and i need your advice on something but first i want to see coco, if that's alright." "oh!" youngjae bent down and unlocked the crate, and coco burst out of it, running up to mark. mark grinned, a happy look in his eyes as he greeted his dog; coco licked mark's face, excited and happy that he was finally home. youngjae laughed. "i'm gonna go get settled in and get all my stuff unpacked. you hang out with coco for a while and then i'll come out and talk to you about whatever you wanted to talk about, alright?"mark nodded before feeling his way over to the couch in the living room, where coco jumped up beside him and cuddled up in his lap. he pet the small dog as he thought over what he was going to tell youngjae, a small smile on his face. after a few minutes, youngjae came out and sat down on the couch beside mark. "what is it?" he asked, petting coco too. "i, um...may have met someone while you were gone?" mark said slowly, bracing himself for youngjae's reaction. all he got was silence, though, and he frowned. "youngjae?" "what? oh! i'm so happy for you, mark! who is it? do i know her?" "him," mark replied. "and his name is jackson, he lives next door." "what, really?" youngjae said. "cmon, you're taking me over to meet him right now," he said, pulling on mark's arm as he stood up. "noooo," mark whined and pulled youngjae back down to the couch. "we're not dating. i mean, we might, i kind of asked him out, i think? i don't know if i did or not, really." mark basically felt the frown on youngjae's face. "what do you mean, you don't know if you asked him out or not? how do you not know if you've asked somebody out or not?" mark explained the whole situation, about how he told jackson to prove that someone would date him but he didn't know if he was directing it towards jackson or telling jackson to ask someone else to date him. he said that he wouldn't really mind if jackson got somebody else to date him, which youngjae snorted, responding with, "that isn't true and you know it," and mark just smiling to himself and not denying the fact that youngjae was probably right. "okay but still," youngjae said. "you have to introduce me to him. like, now. is he home?""i don't know," mark replied. "and if you want to meet him so badly, go meet him yourself. i'm staying here.""fine, suit yourself," youngjae said, and stood up. "which apartment?" "the one to the left of ours when you walk straight out the door," mark said, sighing. "have fun." "uh huh." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- After sitting in his chair for a few minutes after Youngjae had left, Mark became restless. Sighing, he stood up, grabbed his cane, and raced (as quickly as a blind man could) out of his apartment and over to where he knew Jackson's was. He knocked on the door, and when it opened, a strange voice asked, "Who are you?" and Mark shook his head and apologized before turning around, realizing he had gone left instead of right. The next door he knocked on was a success, though, as someone opened the door and Youngjae's cheery voice greeted him. "Knew it," Youngjae mumbled, a hint of a smile in his voice. Mark just raised his eyebrows."I'm sorry, I just...I had to come over. Are you two getting along well?" "Jackson, you can't just nod, you have to verbally confirm things," Youngjae said, and a smile grew on Mark's face."Oh! Oh. I'm sorry! But yes, we are!" The smile on Mark's face simply grew. He walked over to the couch, where he assumed Jackson was sitting, and asked if he could sit. After another reminder from Youngjae, Jackson said that he could, and Mark sat down. "I was actually just leaving," Youngjae said. Mark turned in his direction, shaking his head violently, and Youngjae just chuckled. "You two have fun." Mark groaned and turned to Jackson, who was silent. Jackson was only silent because of how beautiful the man sitting in front of him was. Mark was truly spectacular. Jackson was confident in his own body, his muscles, his face. But then Mark showed up, and suddenly he was self conscious. Mark had muscle, but was also tall and lean. His eyes, even though he couldn't see out of them, were so beautiful to Jackson. His hair was a beautiful light brown, perfect, in Jackson's opinion. He felt weird "oggling" the man in front of him when he couldn't see, like he was taking advantage of him somehow, but he couldn't help it. Mark was perfect. His smile was perfect. His eyes. His hair. His body. His personality. Jackson wanted to pinch himself, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Mark, however, was becoming rather uneasy at the silence. Jackson wasn't saying anything, and Mark became scared that Jackson disliked him. He would have said something if he wanted to become closer, right? Mark thought so, and after a few seconds of thinking, decided to say something. "Why are you not saying anything? Do you not like me?" he asked timidly, with a hint of anger in his voice. "I really...I think I like you, you're funny and kind and you seem like a nice person but...I understand why you don't like me. We've only known each other for about a week, but I've already proven to you that I'm not worthy of you dating me. Or anyone. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Mark stood up, mumbling "I'm sorry" under his breath as he began to make his way over to the door, but was stopped by Jackson's hand on his arm. "You told me to prove that you are worth dating last time we saw each other, correct?" Jackson asked, his voice soft. Mark nodded. "Then let me." Mark's heart leaped into his chest as he felt Jackson lean forward, wrap his arms around Mark's neck, and press his forehead against Mark's. Mark leaned down a bit so Jackson could actually reach him, which resulted in a small smile from Mark. "Blame my legs, they're too short.""Your legs are perfect just the way they are," Mark replied, chuckling. Jackson took a deep breath and began to lean forward, but right as their lips were about to connect, the door opened and someone entered, yelling, "Jackson! I got you the cupcakes you wanted for your soon to be boyfri- oh my god I'm interrupting something, I'll be back." Jackson just threw his head back. "Goddammit Bambam!"
10716234	Shopping Pains	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Female Ryder (Mass Effect), Vetra Nyx", "Fandom": "Mass Effect", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by ContinuousSpec", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-24T00:00:00", "words": "828", "Additional Tags": "Fluff, Cuddling, Comfort, Shopping, Post-Game(s), Domestic Fluff", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Vetra Nyx/Ryder, Vetra Nyx/Female Ryder \| Sara", "Series": "Juniper Ryder", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	The sun stretched down on Eos’ horizon. The Tempest resting on Prodromos for the night cycle, they’ll be heading to the Nexus in the morning. Shuttles glided in and out of Ryder’s window view, light music beating in the background. A sleepy sigh left Ryder’s lips as she tucked herself inbetween Vetra and the corner of the couch. Things were finally becoming peaceful.Until Mimzy, the ever hungry pyjak that he is, leaped to the coffee table, tackling a forgotten protein bar. Discarded omni-tools, half-finished ship models, and a tower of datapads went scattering as he searched. “Shit.” Vetra shot up and grabbed for Mimzy. He jumped and pranced away with the protein bar across the room. “Evil little vermin.” Vetra spat at him as she relaxed back down to the couch. “Bad Mimulus.” Ryder mumbled at the noise, still tucked away in the corner of the couch. “You have a problem,” Vetra stated, looking at the onward destruction of tech and countless datapads with useless protocols.“He is a little Gremlin, isn’t he? Aren’t you Mimzy?” The pyjak ignored Ryder’s cooing and continued eating.“No, well yes he is, but that not what I meant.”“What? You still haven’t forgiven him about the chocolate, have you?” “It was half of our supply! But I’m talking about all this.” Vetra gestured at the littered ground. Ryder yawned, tucking herself deeper into the couch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”Vetra laughed and lazily picked up the nearest datapad and examined the title. “Oh really? So what was the purpose of this ‘Spot & Seek 9000XX’? How did that go? You know the extra numbers and letters doesn’t mean it’s better.”Ryder kept mumbling, that protocol put her turret out for a week until she figured out how to reprogram it. “Lily’s tracking needed updating, she’d been getting slopping. And the XX series is so much better than the X. Well, it is when is Lily actually working.”“Riiight, how about the ’Multi-colored Nightclub Strobe Light Protocol’ then?” Vetra asked, reading from another datapad.“Just think of Bluebell as a both a combat and a dazzler drone!” Ryder rolled from the corner of the couch, scrabbling into Vetra’s lap and continued talking. “You know, you never hear this kind of criticism from me with the crates you bring back from shopping.”“I don’t go shopping.” Vetra corrected. “I get and retrieve. I have a narrow focus, unlike some people,” Vetra said, playfully fluttering her left mandible into the curve of Ryder’s neck.Ryder giggled in response. “Oh, like the crate full of Blast-Ohs you have hidden away in the armory?”“I brought those to Andromeda. They’re necessary and vital to the Initiative. I can’t lose those like the chocolate.” Vetra narrowed her eyes at Mimzy who began pawing at Spruce’s hamster cage.Her glance relaxed back on Ryder before she spoke. “I could have gotten you better protocols for at least a third of the price, half if you give me some time. You just have to ask.”Ryder’s giggles soften into a smile at the offer. “You don’t have to worry about that. If I really needed it, I could write the code myself.”“I’m allowed to worry about you a bit.” Vetra’s voice lowered as she spoke. Ryder met Vetra’s eyes, a bit more serious and shy then she was before. To ease her, Ryder gave her a little smirk and moved her hands down her carapace. Fingers drummed along Vetra’s back, with light kisses pressed into her mouth plate.“You spoil me enough, burnt steaks and all.”Vetra cackled a laugh as Ryder’s finger worked their way under her fringe. “I knew you weren’t going to let that go.”“Never.” Ryder straddled Vetra’s hips and placed her hands along her mandibles. “Listen, the outposts are doing great, we have Meridian, we have the resources to spend a little here and there, you don’t need to keep worrying.” Ryder continued on talking and pecking small kisses on Vetra’s brow. “But if it makes you feel any better, next time I go shopping on Kadara or wherever, I’ll make sure not throw my credits at the first thing I see.” Vetra relaxed, lightly pressing her mandibles into Ryder’s palms. “Thanks, are you sure there’s nothing I can get you?”“Well, I have been wanting to get my hands on an M-90 Cain for Ivy. Just strap that on her back and think of the potential, the other Remnant will quake with fear!”Ryder’s eyes went wide with excitement at the thought, causing Vetra to laugh and returned her affection. She pushed Ryder down onto the couch, talons working their way up Ryder’s shirt. Vetra nuzzled her brow into Ryder’s forehead.“I’ll see what I can do.” Ryder smiled and leaned up for a kiss, until another crash came from Mimzy, with Spruce running free from his now toppled over cage. Ryder sighed, Vetra was right, evil little vermin.
10743150	Daisuga Collection	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Sawamura Daichi, Sugawara Koushi, Azumane Asahi, Nishinoya Yuu, Hinata Shouyou, Ukai Keishin, Karasuno Volleyball Club, Kageyama Tobio", "Fandom": "Haikyuu!!", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by casper_the_friendly", "chapters": "7/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-27T00:00:00", "words": "9,475", "Additional Tags": "Vomiting, Sickfic, sick daichi, Sick Character, Stomach Ache, Emetophobia, Emetophilia, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Karasuno, Karasuno Family, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Sawamura Daichi & Sugawara Koushi, Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Azumane Asahi & Sugawara Koushi, Azumane Asahi & Sawamura Daichi, Sawamura Daichi & Nishinoya Yuu, Nishinoya Yuu & Sugawara Koushi", "Series": "Haikyuu!! Sickfic Compilation", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	“Daichi!” Suga met his best friend before practice. “How was your test?”“My… Ah. Right. It was fine, I guess,” Daichi said without much energy. Now that was unusual. First of all, he’d been staying up late to study for this test after practice for the last three nights, and he seemed to have nearly forgotten about it. Furthermore, the lack of enthusiasm was concerning. Perhaps even worse than that, though was Daichi’s response; he never thought a test went just fine. Suga couldn’t remember the last time a test went anything other than “really well” or “terribly” for Daichi. And the “I guess” tacked onto the end of it was equally unusual; Daichi was always confident in his perception of how well he performed on tests.“Oh,” Suga responds, searching Daichi’s face for signs that something is wrong. “Hey, are you alright?” He asks, not being able to pinpoint anything on his own.“Huh? Yeah! Of course! What, did something happen?” The alarm sharpens Daichi’s eyes into razor-sharp focus, and Suga wonders if maybe he was just tired from studying so much. He shakes his head.“Nothing happened. I just thought-” The coach calls Daichi over as they enter the gym and Suga cuts his words short so as not to speak over Ukai.“Oh. Okay.” Daichi rustles Suga’s hair a bit and offers an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Suga, I’ve gotta go talk to Coach about the plan for today, but we should talk later if you want!”Suga sighs. Even when he’s out of it, Daichi maintains the opinion that practice had to go on.The whole time Suga keeps a close eye on the captain. At first, everything seems to be normal. Daichi keeps his normal pace when they run, (but is slightly more winded at the end), his shouts are as frequent as normal and have the same powerful effect (but are quieter), his receives… Well, that’s where it becomes evident that everything is, indeed, not normal. He seems... sluggish, to say the least. Noya slaps him on the back.“Don’t mind,” he says with a smile as they trade places. “Everyone has their bad days.”Daichi’s mouth lifts up a bit out of the firm frown he’d been wearing. “Right.” He sounds tired.“Long night?” Noya grins.Daichi nods, but Suga watches Asahi throw a concerned look in his direction. Daichi doesn’t notice, and the other two third years make eye contact. Suga gives Asahi a light smile and shrugs, hoping Asahi won’t worry too much but knowing he will. When practice finishes up, the two step off to the side of the locker room to talk.“Is something wrong with Daichi?” Asahi asks Suga, who shrugs again, but this time his expression is grim. They both look at their captain, who is sitting on a bench with a water bottle to his lips. However, instead of drinking, he simply lets the bottle sit there and stares off into the distance listlessly.“I think so,” Suga says. “But he won’t tell me anything. He’s playing it off as just a lack of sleep.”“Oh…” Asahi bites his lip.“Hey,” Suga says, smiling again. “He’ll be fine. Whatever’s going on, Daichi can take care of it, and he wouldn’t want you thinking otherwise.”“Yeah, it’s just. Well.”“Yeah. It’s disconcerting. But I’ll figure out what’s going on, don’t you worry!”Finally, Asahi seems to relax a bit. He doesn’t doubt that; Suga always knows what’s going on with Daichi, even when no one else does. “Right.”“Suga?” Daichi asks. “Ready to go?”“Yeah.” Suga turns to leave with his friend, but stops quickly, looking him up and down. He almost laughs. “But you aren’t.”“I’m-““Not dressed.”Daichi looks down. Sure enough, he has only his socks and boxers on. His face goes red and he quickly goes to change. Noya and Tanaka laugh, and Suga tries to join in but mostly fails. Asahi doesn’t even try.“Suga.”“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” he says with a smile that displays more confident than he feels.When Daichi is ready, they start the trek back. It isn’t a very long walk, so Suga gets right to it.“Daichi.”“Hm?”“Can we talk?”“I, uh…” Daichi hesitates, looking a bit uncomfortable.“Hey, it’s no big deal,” Suga reassures him. “I just… wanted to know what’s going on with you.”Daichi raises a hand to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit. He doesn’t do that often when he’s talking to Suga. His face looks pale.“Daichi? You can tell me anything.” Suga rubs his thumb and forefinger together, his own nervous habit.“I…” Daichi swallows thickly, hesitating one last time. Then he continues in an uncharacteristically soft voice. “I don’t feel very well.”Suga’s eyebrows shoot up. “That was it? Daichi, why didn’t you just tell me?”“Didn’t want you to worry,” Daichi mumbles. Suga rolls his eyes and resists the urge to punch Daichi in the side for his stupidity. Instead he pulls him into a side-hug.“As if I didn’t worry anyway.”Daichi laughs a bit. “Thanks, Suga.”“Mhm. Let’s go home.”They start walking back again, but it isn’t long before Daichi starts to slow down. The expression on his face tells Suga everything he needs to know.“You gonna be sick?”Daichi’s nose scrunches up. He shakes his head stubbornly but unconsciously lets a hand fall to his stomach.“Daichi…” Suga eyes widen as Daichi’s other hand flutter up to his mouth. He takes hold of Daichi’s shoulders, noting the tension in them, and walks him over to a bench, then sits him down. Daichi’s still shaking his head.“Hey.” Suga says in no-nonsense mode. “It’s okay. You’ll feel better, after, so just calm down and try to relax.”“Suga, you shouldn’t-“ Daichi’s stomach lurches and he doubles over with a loud, painful retch.“Shhh,” Suga says, rubbing circles on Daichi’s back. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not just going to leave you here alone, idiot.”Daichi starts to sit up, but suddenly burps and is sick into the grass between his knees. He moans and shudders as another wave of nausea runs through him, and then he’s choking on the vile substance coming up his throat. He coughs and violently expels a spray of thick vomit. He tries to take a breath, but fails as his stomach heaves, releasing another wave. He coughs up another mouthful before getting a chance to breathe.He takes huge breaths, and Suga’s hands are cool on his forehead as he smooths his hair back.“Do you feel better?” He asks.“No. Sorry, Suga,” Daichi mumbles.“Seriously, Daichi, I don’t care. I’ve seen worse. And… you’re my best friend. I just wish you didn’t feel so awful.”At that, Daichi makes a small affirmative sound, but the nausea is starting to get overwhelming again. “Oh, God.”“Just breathe,” Suga reminds him.Daichi’s stomach heaves, and his mouth instinctively opens, but nothing comes out immediately. The dry heave hurt his throat, but he can’t stop. After a few more, he finally manages to expel a long, thin stream of puke. Then another. And then he is expelling bile. When he starts retching air again, Suga tries to calm him.“Hey, you’re okay now, settle down,” he urges. Still, it is a while before Daichi’s stomach relaxes enough for him to lean back on the bench.“We should go home,” he says.“Probably. Are you up for it?”Daichi nods, but he’s uncertain. Still, they start up again, and everything seems to be going smoothly. Then, about a block from their street, Daichi feels something climbing up his throat again. He freezes, and then doubles over to hurl into the grass, and then dry heave for a bit. When that’s done, they go as fast as they can to reach Daichi’s house. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- When Suga’s phone rang, he answered without looking to see who it was. He’d assumed it was Daichi. He was correct. However, he also assumed that his friend had called to ask a question about their homework or to get Suga’s opinion on how to strategize against their next opponent in volleyball, and in that regard, he was completely wrong.“Hello?”“Hey, Suga, do you have any Ibuprofen?”“Daichi? You have a headache? You okay?”“Yeah, yeah, it’s not a bad one. I probably won’t even need the medicine, I just want to have it in case it gets worse.”Suga pursed his lips. It was unusual for Daichi to ask for help for anything, even less for him to be unprepared, and almost unheard of for him to admit he was in pain if it wasn’t unbearable. “Are you sure you’re okay?”Daichi made an exasperated noise on the other end of the line and Suga could have kicked himself. “I’m fine, honestly, Suga. Actually, I’m not even sure why I called, it’s really not a bit deal. Never-““Alright, I’ll be over there with the medicine in 20. Just relax until I get there, okay?”Daichi sighed, but Suga hung up before he could tell him not to go overboard. He was definitely going to go overboard.Precisely 20 minutes later Suga was knocking on Daichi’s door with an armful of not only Ibuprofen, but also Tylenol, soup, and tea. Nobody responded, which was strange and fairly concerning. Suga pulled out his phone to text Daichi only to see that he’d already received multiple texts from him.From: Daichi7 minutes agoI found some ibuprofen5 minutes agoyou don’t have to come2 minutes agosriously suga dont come2 minutes agom fine.Suga read the texts through twice, eyeing the deterioration of Daichi’s punctuation and feeling his heart sink more with every mistake. Maybe he was paranoid, but something felt off. In the end, it was Daichi’s use of a period in the last text that did it. Daichi never used periods when texting.Without further ado, Suga grabbed the spare key Daichi had given him and let himself in, despite the warning that had come along with the key: “If you abuse it, you lose it.” Suga thought this may be something worth losing it for.He poked his head in the door.“Hello?” When nobody responded, he stepped inside, if only to dump the groceries on the ground to relieve his arms. The house was quiet, and dark, but Suga could hear the sound of the television playing softly coming from upstairs. He followed the noise, and, unsurprisingly, it led him to Daichi’s room. He raised his hand to knock, but thought better of it when he noticed that Daichi’s room was dark, and wondered if maybe Daichi’s headache had gotten worse. Instead of knocking, he opened the door as quietly as possible.Sure enough, Daichi was laying curled up on his bed. However, rather than holding his head as Suga had expected, he was clutching pitifully at his stomach. He opened the door wider and it creaked enough to get Daichi’s attention. He rolled over to face the door with effort.“Suga? Didn’t you-“ Daichi sucked in a sharp, pained breath. He released it slowly. “Didn’t you get my texts?”“Mhm.”“So why’d you come?”“Had a hunch something was wrong.” Suga walked over and sat down on the side of the bed. “I was right.”Daichi shifted so that his friend could lie down, too, but instead of relaxing, Suga pried Daichi’s hands away from his abdomen.“Honestly, I’m fi-“ Daichi had only begun to say he was fine when Suga started massaging his stomach. Daichi shuddered, and at first Suga thought maybe he’d made things worse, but then he saw the tension flow out of his shoulders. Suga smiled innocently.“What was that? You want me to leave?”“Ugh, Suga, what the heck? ‘re you’re hands magic or something?”“Or something.” He massaged Daichi’s stomach as he spoke. “So what happened? I thought you had a headache?”“Yeah, but really, it wasn’t that bad. Not a migraine, at least. I took the Ibuprofen just in case, but then my stomach started to act up.”Suga winced. “Act up how, exactly?”“Just, y’know, cramps and stuff.”“Yeah, it’s the “and stuff” that I’m worried about. Do you feel sick at all?” At the mere mention of being sick Daichi paled. Suga nodded. “I’m going to take that as a yes. Man, I think you may have caught the stomach bug that’s been going around.”Daichi groaned and Suga cast him a sympathetic glance in response. “Anyway, maybe it won’t be too bad. If the belly rubs are helping, that’s a good sign.”Daichi grunted as his eyes drifted shut, but moments later drowzily opened them again, blinking slowly. Suga chuckled.“Stop that,” he laughed.“Hm?” Daichi mumbled.“Don’t try and stay awake, you should be sleeping this off.”“But you’re-““I’m here, and I’ll stay here whether you’re sleeping or not. Jeez. Close you’re eyes already.”Daichi frowned, but did as he was told. Moments later, Suga felt the tension leave his friend’s body and he knew he was asleep. He smiled, and continued rubbing Daichi’s stomach.They stayed that way for so long that both of Suga’s feet fell asleep, but he didn’t mind. He was glad Daichi was resting. Unfortunately, it didn’t last forever. Inevitably, Daichi woke up, and this he did with a distinctively nauseas gurgle. Suga started at the noise and his hands faltered momentarily.“Dai?”Daichi blinked his eyes slowly, confusion dominating his face. “Suga?” The sick boy swallowed convulsively and Suga noted the sweat now coating his face.“Hey there, how are you feeling, kid?”Daichi groaned, and the crease between Suga’s brows deepened.“You gonna be sick?”Daichi’s only response was a hiccup. He moaned and made a pitiful attempt at burrowing beneath the covers. Had he not been so concerned, Suga probably would have laughed at his friend’s antics. As it was, he couldn’t afford to waste time on humor. He tugged the covers away, just so he could see Daichi’s face.“Seriously, Daichi, this is important. Do you feel like you’re gonna hurl?”Daichi put a hand to his mouth as if even the thought of it made him want to barf, and that was response enough for Suga.“Dammit, Daichi, you should’ve said sooner. Can you make it to the bathroom?”Daichi’s shoulders hitched dramatically and Suga moved to grab the barf bucket even before his friend shook his head. In a valiant effort, Daichi suppressed three retches before bile made its way through his nose, splattering on the blankets before Suga had a chance to return. Nose now filled with the scent of sick, Daichi’s nausea more than doubled. He attempted to take a breath, but that was the last straw.Fortunately, Suga arrived just in time to position the bowl under Daichi’s chin as the sick boy threw up. A small amount of clear bile splashed in first, but was immediately followed, without any time for Daichi to take a breath, by a forceful mixture of a burp and a heave that brought up a much more puke, this time brown and of a thicker consistency. Suga put a hand on Daichi’s shoulder to steady him when he lurched forward, and could feel him shaking. The large bowl was more than halfway full by the time Daichi was able to take a breath (a testament both to the speed with which the foul substance had exited Daichi’s body and to the length of time he’d been vomiting). However, even then he only got half a breath before he coughed loudly and was yet again unable to inhale. Another rush of sick filled his mouth. He shuddered and allowed it to exit his system. It splashed into the bowl, and some of it splashed out. Daichi wheezed, and Suga worried at how red his friend’s face was, not to mention how badly the boy was shaking. Suga helped Daichi lean back into his pillows.“There you go, you feel any better?”Daichi shook his head the tiniest bit and dizziness overwhelmed him. His stomach rolled. Suga held the bowl steady in his lap, but Daichi didn’t have an ounce of strength left to position himself over it.“Daichi?” Suga sensed that something was off, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. Daichi knew that, and he tried to explain, but as soon as he opened his mouth it was filled with last night’s liquified dinner. This time it did not come up so quickly, rather in the form of a thin, steady stream. Daichi tucked his chin in and allowed it to spill onto his chest shirt.“Oh, shit, Dai!” Suga helped him sit up so that Daichi was able to cough up the last few mouthfuls of bile into the bowl, but the damage had been done.“I’m sorry,” Daichi rasped. “Suga, I’m so- hurk!” Daichi’s back muscles tightened beneath Suga’s palm. Suga hushed his friend.“Sh, c’mon, Dai, it’s not a big deal. Here, let me help you…”Suga expertly folded Daichi’s shirt in on itself so that he could lift it off without getting any of the vomit on Daichi. He threw the shirt in a trashcan and urged Daichi to his feet. He squeezed his friend’s hand tightly and looked him in the eyes.“It’s gonna be okay, I promise. Do you believe me?”Unsteady though he was, Daichi could see the confidence in Suga’s eyes, and a fiery message: I dare you to disagree. It was too soon, still for a smile, but he could manage a hand squeeze in return. Suga got the message.“Good.” Suga brushed Daichi’s sweaty hair off of his forehead before guiding him to the bathroom. “Now let’s get you cleaned up.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- He’s missed nearly every toss he’s made today. He’s been swaying on his feet the whole practice. He’s tripped multiple times and now has bruises on his chin, both elbows, and right knee. All things considered, it’s incredible that he’s still on his feet. Even more incredible is the fact that he continues to smile like nothing at all is wrong when he’s very clearly sick as a dog.Frankly, though, this is getting dangerous, and Daichi is absolutely fed up.“Suga!” His best friend turns to him slowly and blinks slowly, still smiling, seeming not to have caught on to Daichi’s angry tone yet (which is yet one more incredible thing about Suga right now- and another dangerous one). “Sit down,” Daichi demands in a way that should allow for no argument. Then Suga’s eyebrows draw together in the way they always do when he disagrees strongly with someone and is going to refuse to listen to them no matter what.“No way! I may not be a starter, but that’s all the more reason for me to practice as much or even more than anyone else!”“Absolutely not. Not today. Sit down, or leave.”Daichi cast a desperate glance at Coach Ukai, but the older man shrugged and gave the team captain a pointed look that seemed to say “Sorry, I don’t deal with obstinate sick kids. You can figure that one out yourself. Good luck.”It was unfortunately that Takeda Sensei wasn’t around, as he most certainly would have placed Suga’s health first and sided with Daichi, but as it was, the teacher was away at a conference of some sort and the captain was on his own against the only person who had ever beaten him in an argument. Actually, Daichi had never once won an argument with Suga. He massaged his forehead and looked at his best friend pleadingly.“Suga…”“I’m fine,” Suga said assuredly. “Let’s get back to practice already.”They did. Daichi tried to ignore Suga; at this point, he’d done all he could to help him. If Suga got worse now, it was his own fault. And yet, he couldn’t ignore the relief that spread through his chest when practice ended without any further incident.That is, until he heard shrill screeches and the chorus of “Suga-san!”s and “Suga-senpai!”s and “Are you alright?”s while he was changing. He’d been in the middle of pulling his shirt over his head but he abandoned the task immediately and arrived just in time to see Suga’s fruitless gags turn into something productive. He watched miserably as his best friend - and the team’s vice captain - threw up right there in the locker room.He cursed as vomit sprayed out from where Suga’s hands were desperately trying to keep it in, ending up on Suga’s clothes, the floor, even one of the lockers before the boy involuntarily doubled forward.“Okay, everyone out!” Daichi shouted. He felt hopelessly out of control, but he would do what he could to salvage the situation. That meant getting the team away from the sick boy, both for Suga’s sake and the team’s.Not only would the rest of the team be further exposed to whatever bug Suga had caught, but all of its members were shaken by seeing their vice president and level-headed teammate so sick. Hinata, for his part, had tears in his eyes, Asahi was pale as a ghost, and Yamaguchi looked about ready to be sick himself, but even the seemingly more stable members looked distinctly uneasy. Kageyama and Tanaka had their mouths hanging open, and even Tsukishima’s mouth was drawn into a thinner line than normal, and wavering slightly. Noya, surprisingly, seemed the most upset by the ordeal, judging by the way he stood completely stock still in a way Daichi never would have thought possible for the libero. His paralysis seemed to affect the entire team.“Out!” Daichi shouted again, this time forcefully moving Noya himself until Asahi took over for him. When the rest of the team was gone, Daichi turned back to Suga, who was trembling, and staring at his messy hands and shirt with a watery smile.“I guess we should get you cleaned up, huh?” Daichi placed his hand on the back of Suga’s neck and gently guided the hiccuping boy to the showers.“You were - hic! - right, Daichi. I’m - hic! sorry.”“It’s fine,” Daichi sighed, mentally taking note that this was the first time he’d been right where Suga had been wrong, and that it was not a great feeling. He shook his head. “Just tell me next time you feel bad, alright? Or better yet, just stay home from practice and school altogether and get better?”Suga nodded. “Thanks Daichi. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- There was a knock at the door. It was - Daichi checked the clock - it was 3:47 am and someone was knocking at his door. They’d been knocking for a whole seven minutes already and showed no signs of stopping. Which was crazy because, judging by the pitter-patter noises coming from his window, it was pouring outside. There was only one person it could possibly be, really, but at 3:47 in the morning Daichi’s brain wasn’t functioning as well as it normally did, so it took him far longer than it should have to scramble out of bed as fast as he could. His heart in his throat and probably on his sleeve at the same time, he stumbled down the stairs.“Dai? Daichi?”It was a voice he’d recognize a mile away, and it belonged to a person that he couldn’t be angry at even when he had woken Daichi up at 3:47 am on a Sunday.“Suga!” Daichi flung open the door, and sure enough, there stood his best friend: trembling, wearing short sleeves, shorts, and a scarf of all things, shivering and soaking wet with flushed cheeks. Suga had one arm wrapped around his middle, while the other was grasping nervously at his scarf. Daichi welcomed him inside and immediately set to work starting a fire, heating water for hot chocolate, and rounding up warm clothes and blankets for Suga, who stood in the doorway uncertainly. Daichi new that was because he didn’t want to get everything wet and offered him a smile.“C’mon, Suga, you know I don’t like it when you stand there in the doorway like that.”“But I’m soaAUURP!” Suga was cut off suddenly by a loud burp. His face got slightly redder, and Daichi took a closer look at him. “Sorry, ‘scuse me. I’m soaking,” Suga finished.“You know I don’t care. Suga,” Daichi approached his friend, and as he did so, noted the way Suga’s hands were trembling and his shortness of breath. It was then that it occurred to him that Suga might be sick. He reached a hand towards Suga’s forehead, but the silver haired boy flinched away. Daichi froze. Suga looked down at the ground.“Sorry,” Suga mumbled, still avoiding eye contact, and also muffling another burp.“No! Suga, I’m sorry, that was my bad. I should have asked you, first. Can I? I want to see if you have a fever.”“Yes, of course!” Suga looked at Daichi earnestly. “I really didn’t mean to, Daichi, I trust you, it’s just-““I know,” Daichi said with a warm smile. Slowly, he placed his hand on Suga’s forehead. “Hot,” he mumbles.“Uh-uh, ‘m cold,” Suga mumbled. “It’s raining - HURP! - outside.”Daichi’s smile is slightly off-kilter. “How about we get you some dry clothes and sit down for a bit, alright?”Suga nodded, complacent, and released another burp. As one of his hands rubbed circles on his stomach and Daichi tried not to feel too worried.Once Suga was changed, Daichi helped him get comfortable on the couch, covering him in a mountain of blankets. Suga snuggled in, curling into a ball and belching again, each burp getting thicker and wetter. The kettle whistled and Daichi retrieved the hot water, but instead of hot chocolate, he made tea. Just as Daichi was adding the honey, Suga padded into the kitchen, bleary-eyed as if he had just awoken from the world’s shortest nap.“Suga?” Daichi turned to him, surprised. “Hey, you okay?”Suga nodded, but kept walking. Slowly, almost zombie-like, he extended his arms toward Daichi, who opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say.“Uh? Huh? Suga? What?” And then Suga was wrapping Daichi in an overly warm hug. For a while Daichi hugged him back, but after about a minute or so his worry got the better of him.“Hey, us, Suga?” Daichi put his hand on Suga’s forehead and brushed back his hair, gently tilting his head back as he did so. Suga’s eyes and mouth were clenched tightly shut, his skin pasty and ashen. His stomach gurgled and another very wet sounding belch rolled out of him. Daichi sighed.“You feel pretty bad, huh?”Suga nodded and buried his head back in Daichi’s chest again.“Think you’re gonna throw up?Suga shook his head. Daichi wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to pressure him too much either.“Do you want to go to the bathroom, just in case?” This time, Suga nodded, more vigorously this time. He was sure.“Suga…”“‘m not gonna-“ Suga cut himself off, a hand flying to his mouth. Daichi’s eyes widened, and he searched the kitchen for a pot, but he knew it was too late by then to do much. So he just stood where he was and rubbed Suga’s back.“That’s okay, Suga, you can let it out. You’ll feel better once you do.”Suga burped yet again, but this time when he opened his mouth, a chunky mouthful of vomit poured out, splashing over his hands and splattering the floor.“Dai-““It’s okay, Suga! Just breathe.”Suga whimpered and made frantic, jerky movements with his arms, like he didn’t know what to do with his body. Daichi was able to find a pan, and grabbed it from the cabinet, handing it to Suga. However, it slipped from his shaking hands, clattering loudly and startling the sick boy into throwing up onto the hardwood floor again.“That’s it, Suga, just let it out,” Daichi said, taking Suga’s shoulder and guiding him slowly to a squatted position on the floor. Suga hiccuped and threw up again with another splat. Then he lapsed into a series of dry heaves, and Daichi caught his eyes. Without saying a thing, Suga was begging for help. That was always how Suga asked for things, without saying a word, but this time Daichi was unable to do much for him other than stay there by his side and talk him through it.Finally, Suga was able to expel two more splashes of vomit and a last mouthful of stomach bile. Then all of the tension seeped out of him at once, and he tipped backwards. Daichi caught him under his arms.“Suga? Suga, hey! Stay with me!”Suga’s eyes fluttered open. “‘m okay. ‘m just tired,” he murmured, and his eyes drifted shut again.“Woah, hey, wait just a minute and let’s get some fluids in you before you close your eyes, okay?” Suga begrudgingly opened his eyes. Daichi smiled. “There you go. Now let’s get you new clothes, and then we’ll get you settled on the couch, and I’ll bring the tea.”When Daichi left to get the tea, Suga snagged his shirtsleeve. “Don’t leave,” he pleaded, looking at Daichi with wide, scared eyes.“I would never,” Daichi responded immediately. “I’ll be back in a minute, so stay there.”Daichi watched Suga’s grip tighten on his sleeve, then looked up to meet Suga’s eyes.“Suga. You said you trusted me, right?”Eyes darting away for just a second, Suga nods, and meets Daichi’s eyes before releasing his sleeve.Daichi returns no more than seven seconds later to a sleeping Suga. He shakes his head, but doesn’t have the heart to wake him, so he just places the tea on the table for later. Needless to say, he’s shocked when a hand shoots out from underneath the pile of blankets and latches on to his shirt again.“Suga?”“Mnmph.”“Um.”Suga tugs on his shirt, and Daichi stumbles into the couch.“Hrumph.”Tentatively, Daichi snuggles in on the couch with him. Suga gives a contented sigh. His grip eases off, but his hand stays curled around Daichi’s shirt. Daichi laughs.“Goodnight, Suga.”“Hnmph, Dai.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Hey, Suga?”“Hm?” Suga hummed a reply without looking up from the book he was reading.“I’m, uh, gonna use the restroom,” Daichi mumbled.Suga looked up. Daichi’s voice sounded strained, and it was a strange thing for him to bother mentioning. Sure enough, Daichi looked noticeably paler than normal, and was clearly shaky. His shirt was clinging to his body with sweat.“Sure, Dai,” Suga said gently. “You okay?”“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine,” Daichi brushed off Suga’s concern and padded through the sand. Suga felt his brow crease, and it was a struggle to ignore the urge to follow after his friend. He was willing to bet that Daichi was fine, and that he was just overreacting. He was pretty sure that Daichi would tell him if something was wrong, so he pushed his suspicions aside and tried his best to continue enjoying a relaxing afternoon on the beach.This soon became impossible.Daichi came back no sooner than ten minutes later looking exponentially worse than before. The shaking had intensified, his skin was ashen, he had an unusually dazed expression on his face. There was clearly something wrong. Concern made Suga’s heart pound faster than normal, but Daichi just sat down under the umbrella again.“Suga! Daichi!” Noya came running at them, and Suga stood up immediately hoping to save Daichi the trouble. The second year panted, hands on his knees.“We’re- we’re gonna play some beach ball,” Noya explained, pointing over his shoulder. “Wanna- wanna join us?”Looking past him, Suga saw Hinata, Kageyama, and Asahi surrounding the net. Asahi waved uncertainly, while the other two were clearly arguing about something. It certainly looked like fun, but Suga shook his head.“Nah, I think we’re-““Sure,” Daichi said, standing and interrupting him.“But-“Daichi bumped his shoulder into Suga’s. “What? It sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”Suga appraised Daichi again. He looked marginally better, but still, Suga still doubted that this was a good idea. He shook his head. He didn’t know why Daichi was trying to hide the fact that something was so clearly wrong, but it seemed like the captain’s mind was made up.“Alright,” Suga agreed begrudgingly. At least by playing volleyball with him, Suga would be able to keep an eye on Daichi.It was, of course, inevitable that Daichi and Suga got split up into different teams, since it would be unfair to put Hinata and Kageyama on different teams, and Noya refused to play without Asahi. And, honestly, as much as they loved to make fun of him, neither Suga nor Daichi were heartless enough to do that to Asahi anyway. So Daichi joined the first years, since Asahi and Noya needed a setter.Considering each of their abilities, it should have been a good game. The teams normally would have been well matched. And yet, Suga’s team pulled ahead easily. Far too easily. By the time the score was 14-7, even Noya was shooting Daichi concerned looks, and nothing ever seemed to phase Noya. Not to mention, Daichi hadn’t yelled at Hinata and Kageyama for arguing even once. Suga tuned into some of their angry whispers when they all decided to take a five minute time out for water.“…can’t do that, dumbass,” Hinata growled.“Why not?”“‘Cause he’s our captain!”“Hah? What does that matter?” Kageyama said with a dark expression that Suga had learned meant he was confused, even though he looked angry.“It’s disrespectful!” Hinata crossed his arms obstinately. Then an open and scared look crossed over his face and Hinata’s arms fell limp at his side. He lowered his voice so that Suga could only barely make out what he was saying by half reading his lips. “I am worried, though. Kageyama, what should we do?”“I don’t know, dumbass, that’s why I asked you if we should say something!”The bickering continued, but Suga was distracted by Noya grabbing his hand and dragging him to the sidelines. Noya gestured to the team’s ace. Asahi was sitting on the ground with his head on his knees. Suga blinked, surprised, and concerned that maybe something was wrong with Asahi, too, and Noya scowled.“We’re quitting,” Noya said.“Uh…” That wasn’t what Suga had expected. “What?”“We’re done with this game. Asahi doesn’t want to spike to the captain when he’s like this.”Asahi looked up at Suga, wiping his eyes. “I’m sorry, Suga, it just makes me feel really bad-“Suga put a hand on Asahi’s shoulder to assure him that he wasn’t angry. “That’s fine,” Suga said. “I didn’t think he should play in the first place, but Daichi insisted.”Noya nodded and ran over to tell the others. Suga watched the relief visibly drain the tension from the first years’ shoulders. More importantly, he watched Daichi nod, and then stumble a few feet away before sitting down heavily in the sand. The rest of his teammates ran up to Suga at once.“There’s something wrong with Daichi!”“What’s wrong with the captain?”“I think Daichi-san is really sick!”“He looks really bad!”For a moment, there was mass chaos. Then Suga decided that enough was enough, and punched the one who was panicking the most (Asahi) lightly in the gut and told him to be quiet. After that, there was silence, save a couple of whimpers from the ace. Suga cleared his throat just to be sure that he had everyone’s attention.“First of all, yes, of course I know there’s something going on with Daichi. Having said that,” Suga mustered up all of the self-confidence that he didn’t have and tried to sound convinced as he continued speaking. “I don’t think we need to get this worked up about it. Daichi’s old enough and responsible enough to take care of himself, so have some faith and try not to get so frazzled, alright?”Everyone nodded, and Suga could tell that, with the exception of Asahi, he’d managed to calm everyone down considerably, and having Noya around was a great way to distract the ace. Sure enough, Noya dragged Asahi away before he could think about it too much.Suga immediately went to Daichi, squatting down in the sand next to him and placing a gentle hand on his sweaty back.“Dai,” he said, forcing his voice to remain calm. “Maybe we should go inside, huh?”Daichi put a shaking hand to his mouth, and Suga’s eyes widened.“I’m gonna be - hurk!” Daichi, who was in a crosslegged position, leaned over himself with a thankfully dry retch. Suga was moving immediately, helping Daichi onto his knees so he wouldn’t get sick on himself.“Ugh,” Daichi shuddered and let out a low whine. Suga swallowed a lump in his throat.“Don’t hold back, alright?” Suga whispered. It wasn’t like there was much of a choice, though. The next moment Daichi’s stomach muscles clenched tight and a rush of partially digested food spilled out of his mouth and onto the hot sand. He hung his head, limp for half a moment before the nausea turned his stomach again. His head jerked up and putrid smelling vomit splashed onto the sand.Suga muttered soft words of encouragement, but he doubted that it was much help when Daichi was assaulted by heave after heave, expelling so much puke that it was actually dripping towards the water, making horrific trails through the sand. Finally Daichi got a second to breathe, and he swayed unsteadily back and forth over the mess. Suga grabbed his shoulders as Daichi coughed and sputtered.“Nice job, Daichi. Do you want to go inside now?”Daichi made a non-committal noise as he sat back on his heels. Suga was just about ready to help his friend up when the sick boy made a gurgling sounds and threw up a mouthful of very liquified sick and stomach bile. He was left shaking and panting, but didn’t seem to be feeling quite as queasy as he had been. Suga took his chance, helped Daichi stand, and together they stumbled back to the lodge where they were staying.“I’m fine, Suga,” Daichi mumbled as Suga fumbled with the key to their shared room. “I don’t think I’ll - urp - get sick again, at least for a - hurk - while.”Suga’s heart clenched. It was sweet of Daichi to try and reassure him, but hardly effective when every couple of words was punctuated by a suppressed burp or heave. For Daichi’s sake, he forced a smile.“Right. I’m not worried. You’ll be alright, it’s just a little stomach bug.”Still, it wasn’t long before Daichi abandoned watching TV in bed for clutching the toilet with all he had. He retched harshly, three times, before he was able to bring up some stomach acid, and he looked close to passing out.“Fuck, Dai, hang on, let me get you some water, you need to stay hydrated.” As Suga fluttered around, Daichi, even through the overwhelming nausea, chuckled. Suga worried he was really losing it. “Uh, Dai, you okay?”“Hm? Oh yeah, I’m - hurk - 100% alright, Suga, and you’re - ulp - 100% not worried about me-” Daichi was forced to put his sarcasm on hold as another dry heave wracked his body. Suga resisted the urge to yell at him to shut up and get better. Instead, he asked, in a more strained voice than he’d intended, “What do you mean? Why is this so funny?”“Oh, it’s - urp - not, it’s just that you swore. And I’m-“ Daichi coughed up a bit of stomach bile, then wiped his mouth. “Don’t want you to worry about me, but - hurk - ‘m lucky to have you taking care of me.”Suga’s eyes widened as he returned with water to find Daichi, slumped against the wall with sick as much on his clothes as in the toilet. His cheeks were read and he looked faint. Suga scowled.“I swear to God, Daichi, if you pass out right now I will beat the shit out of you, regardless of all those nice things you just said,” Suga muttered, worry manifesting in anger.Daichi just smiled.Both of them could tell it was going to be a long night. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- They’d always been a steady couple. Not so much in that they never broke up - although that was true, too - but even before that, even as just best friends they’d always been seen as the reliable ones, the ones you went to when you needed a rock. Or two.That much was a well known fact.Less well known was that they were steady because they were able to lean on each other. That if one fell, the other was sure to follow soon after. In fact, this was so unknown that even they themselves were unaware of it.So when Suga started retching, Daichi was completely caught off guard by the panic that seized him immediately.One moment they’d been running along, as they always did on weekend mornings. They’d been talking normally, laughing about their last match.“Well,” Suga chuckled. “Iwaizumi and Oikawa sure are something, huh?”Daichi had laughed. “What, you mean the way Oikawa can’t live without Iwaizumi but refuses to acknowledge the fact?”“Well, that. But I have a feeling that dependency goes both ways.”“Ah,” Daichi had said, easily deferring to Suga’s more accurate judgement of these things. “So the angry yelling is just an act.”“Oh, I don’t know about that. Oikawa is an infuriating person. It’s just that, well, he’s Iwaizumi’s infuriating person, and he wouldn’t trade him for the world. Even if he does drag Iwaizumi into his mess with him on a regular basis.”Daichi had laughed, and then they both fell silent. Daichi had assumed that Suga was just focusing on running and didn’t want to waste his breath speaking, but all of a sudden it was all too clear that something was wrong. Still, Daichi didn’t have a clue how to help.“Suga!” He choked out, finally. He moved to put a hand on Suga’s back but the sick boy raised a hand to ward him off. The desperately nauseous expression on Suga’s face made Daichi’s chest hurt, and the tears in his eyes were the icing on the cake. He needed to help, but he couldn’t.For a moment, Suga stood frozen, one hand on his knee, the other still out telling Daichi to keep his distance. Then his entire body seemed to ripple, and lurch forward, and both hands clenched his knees as he threw up forcibly onto the pavement.Daichi had never been one to get squeamish about barf, but something about seeing Suga puke made him lightheaded and shaky and queasy and the sight of the repulsive stuff dripping from his best friend’s mouth and nose was too much. The choked noise Suga made when he was caught by another wave of sick, the three consecutive splashes that followed the first, and the tears… the tears may have been the worst part.Daichi squeezed his eyes shut, but it was too late. His breath sped up and he wondered if he was having a heart attack. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t-Then his stomach lurched and suddenly Daichi was being sick, too. He hiccuped and more vomit spilled from his lips. He coughed and sputtered, but his stomach seemed intent on emptying itself as soon as possible, so he continued to throw up before he even caught his breath.The lightheaded sensation intensified, and he wondered if he would pass out. He retched unproductively and saw stars.“-chi.” Suga’s voice drifted to his ears as if through cotton balls. He sounded exhausted and shaky. “Dai, hey.”Then there was a hand on Daichi’s neck. It moved up to massage his head. And Suga’s words became clearer.“Hey, hey, I’m alright. Just breathe. You’re okay.”Daichi coughed up one last mouthful of puke, and the dry heaves stopped. The shaking slowed, and gradually stopped. At some point, Suga took his hand and guided him to the grassy area on the side of the road, and they both collapsed to the ground, still hand in hand.“Sorry, Dai. I’m okay. I just think I caught a bug or something.”Daichi made a noise to indicate he’d heard, but he was too tired to do much else for a bit. They both were, really, so they allowed to silence to stretch, and Daichi was able to process that Suga was right. He was okay. Daichi was okay. They were fine. He breathed out a sigh of relief and felt his clenched muscles relax. He blinked slowly.“Hah,” Daichi laughed, finally, sitting up. Suga’s lips quirked up in an honest smile even as exhaustion made his struggle to push himself up disturbingly evident.“What’s so funny?”“Nothing, it’s just,” Daichi fiddled with his shoe lace but Suga could see a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I never thought we would be as bad as Oikawa and Iwaizumi.”Suga’s stomach still ached, but that didn’t stop him from laughing with his whole body, even as he gasped sharply from the pain. Daichi didn’t know whether to join him in his laughter or to be concerned, but he figured he might benefit from a break from worrying so much. It was a good decision; he felt some energy returned with every huff of laughter.“Hey,” Suga said eventually, still panting. “Speak for yourself. You and Oikawa are the ones-““Oh my gosh, don’t even start with me!”“What? You think you’re the Iwaizumi in this relationship? After what just happened?”Daichi huffed and pinched Suga’s cheeks. “Well you can’t be the pretty one and the strong one. That’s no fair.”Suga giggled. “Says who?”Daichi rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air in defeat, mumbling under his breath.“What was that?” Suga asked.“I just cannot even believe… I’m so lucky to have you, that’s all,” he said, becoming serious.Suga’s eyes softened a moment before he smirked. “You’re much too emotional to be Iwaizumi.”“Suga!” Daichi shook his head.“Hey,” Suga smiled. “We’re still way more solid than those two. Can you imagine… Oikawa would be sobbing instead of laughing, and Iwaizumi would, of course deal with that perfectly as he always does, but he would be forever convinced he could’ve done better. They’re a mess. We’re alright.”Daichi smiled and nuzzled Suga’s cheek with his nose. “Hm. Yeah. Although,” he eyed the puddles of vomit in the street. “I don’t know if it’s fair to say we aren’t a mess.”“Well no one can be perfect, jeez!” Suga elbowed Daichi in the side on instinct and Daichi winced. So did Suga, as soon as he realized what he’d done. “Ah! Sorry, I’m sorry Dai, are you okay?”“Ye-eah,” Daichi gasped. “But, uh, can we go home?”Suga smiled, and looped his arm through his boyfriend’s. “Yeah, let’s.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- How about Suga with the stomach bug, trying to pretend he is fine but his stomach keeps gurgling and he keeps burping?Daichi squeezed Suga’s hand and offered a tight smile and hurriedly got up to turn on the lights. “That was… a… good movie?”Suga shifted uncomfortably. His stomach had been bothering him all night, but now it was getting to the point where he could hardly focus on anything else, let alone some cheesy horror film.“Suga?”Suga’s head snapped around to face his friend, realizing that he had yet to respond. “Ah, uh, yeah, sorry,” he blinked. If he was having trouble focusing on Daichi of all things, he was in pretty bad shape. His stomach gurgled as if in agreement and he struggled to breath through a sharp cramp. He should tell Dai-“Hm, not scary enough for you, huh?” Daichi chuckled uneasily, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. Suga shook his head in a way he shouldn’t have considering he already had a headache.“No, no, that’s not it. I’m just tired.”Daichi frowned, catching on quickly. “Really? It’s early! You’re not just trying to humor me for being afraid, are you?”Suga smiled thinly. The question was an obvious attempt at humor, but it was underscored by real worry. He shrugged. He didn’t see any reason to keep it a secret.“Nah. Actually, I’ve been feeling a little bit-“Just then the lights went off. Suga heard a crash followed by a curse, and then a shaky “Suga?”“Daichi? You okay?” Suga stood and made his way into the kitchen, towards the noise, forgetting about his own pain immediately. “I think the power went out!”“I’m- yeah, Suga, I’m fine, but where are you? What were you-“Both boys startled when Suga bumped into Daichi, but Suga quickly grabbed onto Daichi’s shoulder.“I’m okay,” Daichi said. “I’m not a kid anymore, I’m not afraid of the dark.”Then tension in Daichi’s muscles said otherwise, and Suga didn’t want to push it, but he couldn’t very well leave it at that either. He searched for his friend’s face in the dark and when he found it placed a sturdy hand on Daichi’s cheek.“Dai, it’s okay. If you’re scared- I mean, you… Of all people, you have more than enough reason to be scared-““I’m not,” Daichi protested, ending the conversation. “Anyway, are you okay?” Suga’s stomach gurgled again and he felt Daichi shift. He also felt sweat running down the side of his friend’s face, and he heard the way Daichi’s breathing sped up, and he knew that even though the trembling of Daichi’s entire body was slight, it was only because the instinct was being suppressed.He nodded, even though he knew Daichi couldn’t see, even as a bubble of air made its way up his throat. He released it in a silent burp before answering aloud.“I’m fine. Just tired. Didn’t sleep much last night.”“How come?” There was a waver in Daichi’s voice, and Suga knew he needed to keep talking.He opened his mouth to do so, but instead of words, a loud burp left his mouth, startling Daichi and making the situation worse instead of better.“Sorry! Sorry, that was rude. I must’ve eaten too much popcorn,” Suga excused himself despite having hardly eaten any popcorn.“Suga, I’m fine, okay? Are you, really?”It was clear enough that Daichi wasn’t being honest, so Suga didn’t feel too bad as he lied through his teeth.“I’m fine, too,” he said, pretending to have not heard - or felt - the bubbling noises that continued to come from his stomach. He suppressed another belch and was glad when Daichi didn’t comment on the jolt that ran through him as a result.“So,” Suga attempted to make conversation. “Kageyama and Hinata have been - ulp - getting along a lot better, huh?”Daichi grunted. Suga sat on the ground and pulled his friend close to his chest. The fact that Daichi allowed it was a tribute to the intensity of his fear as much as his speechlessness.“And Yamaguchi’s getting better at - huuurup - playing in - ulp - general?”Another bubble of air was making its way up Suga’s throat, but he clamped his mouth shut. He figured that the belches that had punctuated his speech already would normally have given him away, but with the way Daichi was trembling, he was hoping they might go unnoticed.“Suga, you don’t have to force yourself to make conversation for my sake,” Daichi mumbled, voice rough and sounding like tears. A wet burp rolled out of Suga’s mouth and Daichi cleared his throat. “You’re clearly not doing well.”“Well neither - huulp - are you,” Suga gasped as a cramp wracked his body, but ran a hand through Daichi’s sweaty hair.Daichi harrumphed, and rubbed his forehead on Suga’s thigh. Suga stroked his back. He stopped suddenly when Daichi’s body jerked with something that sounded like a hiccup, maybe a half-sob.“Dai-““I’m not- I’m not really okay. I’m scared. Of the dark.”Suga squeezed Daichi’s hand.“I know,” he whispered. “I-“Suga cut off suddenly as an intense wave of nausea washed over him. He brought a hand to his mouth and only removed it when the nausea passed.“I’m not really okay, eith-” Suga was cut off by a loud, very wet burp. He groaned and brought one hand to his mouth and the other to his stomach. Daichi scrambled to a seated position.“You’re actually gonna be sick.” Daichi stated; it wasn’t a question. Suga made a wordless sound of agreement. Daichi stumbled to unsteady feet.“I gotta-“ He gasped, struggling for breath. “Gotta find something for you-“ Suga grabbed Daichi’s wrist, and struggled to his feet. He lurched around, dragging Daichi with him.“Sink,” he managed to spit out. “Dai-““Yeah, okay,” Daichi breathed and Suga felt a hand at his back, guiding him in the right direction.“Here,” Daichi said eventually. “Lean forward, you’re fine.”It was perfect timing. As soon as he was given permission, Suga was throwing up.The first heave wasn’t super productive, but it hurt, forcing up a bit of bile and just about all of the oxygen Suga felt he had to survive on. He felt Daichi’s hand at his back then, warm and still shaking a bit, but there anyways and that in itself was comforting. Then, just as Suga started to suck in a huge gasp of air, he ended up sputtering on a forceful wave of vomit. He belched and more sick splashed against the sink before he was able to breathe, and by then he was sobbing so hard that he could hardly breathe anyway.“Hey,” Daichi murmured, “calm down. You’ll make it worse.”Suga hiccuped and then shuddered as a thick stream of repulsive liquid shot from his mouth. “But - hic! - I can’t - hic! - breaAAUUURRGGH-“ He was cut off by a rolling burp that turned into an aborted retch at the end.“Can’t br-“ Suga tried to start again, but all he was really able to choke out was more puke, forced up by the retch which seemed to return with a vengeance. He heard Daichi make a sympathetic noise, but then he was entirely absorbed by the nausea.He didn’t know how long it was that he was being sick, but it certainly felt like forever. Heaves wracked him so hard that he felt lightheaded at one point and ended up having to lean his elbows against either side of the sink so that he could use his hands to support his head, the consequence of this was that, as the sink was slowly filled with barf, some of the stuff got on Suga’s arms. By the time the lights flicked on, Suga was so out of it that he didn’t even really notice. He was struggling just to keep upright at that point.Then there were hands on his forehead, simultaneously smoothing his hair back and holding his head up. They wiped tears from his cheeks and, when he had nothing left to expel, wiped the vomit from his face. They removed his soiled long sleeve shirt, but replaced it just as quickly. They were familiar hands, and even though Suga closed his eyes and was unable to see who they belonged to, he knew all the same. He’d forgotten where he was thanks to the fever. In fact he’d even come close to forgetting who he was. Those hands reminded him.The adrenaline leaving his body, Suga started to sink to his knees, but was caught, helped again by those hands. Without a word they scooped him up and carried him to the couch, where they gently set him down. Finally, Suga cracked his eyes open, trying to prevent them from tearing up and failing instantly when Daichi sat on the side of the couch and started massaging his head.“I’m sorry,” Suga rasped, throat raw. “Sorry, Daichi, I didn’t mean to-““Don’t be,” Daichi cut him off with a gentle tone. His face was filled with warmth and love and Suga’s heart swelled and the tears stopped. His breath hitched, but in a good way, as he realized what he should have said.“Thank you, Dai. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”Daichi huffed a laugh and slowly lay down so that his mouth was so close that his breathing tickled Suga’s ear. “That goes both ways,” he murmured, and Suga could feel that he meant it.
10771485	Cats Fight	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Tony Stark, Thor (Marvel)", "Fandom": "The Avengers (Marvel Movies)", "Language": "中文-普通话國語", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by alittlebit2011", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-30T00:00:00", "words": "6,290", "Additional Tags": "Therianthropy Tony&Thor, Bottom Tony Stark", "Relationship": "Thor/Tony Stark", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	午夜，Tony悄悄翻牆跳進御花園裡。牆很高，土很硬，但Tony落地的聲響卻比雨點還輕。他壓低身體，嗅著四周的氣息，讓敏銳的感官領他前行，穿越黑暗的花園來到寢宮。王子的房間位在宮殿右翼，柔和的光線從雕飾華麗的窗櫺傾瀉而出，裡面依稀有人影晃動。正值守衛輪班空檔，大門兩側空無一人。很好。Tony滿意地咧開嘴。月光下，他的牙齒閃閃發亮。長廊盡頭，一扇門半開，Tony悄無聲息地走了進去。房間寬敞明亮，除了一張堅實的柚木桌、一把椅子和一張大床外，沒有任何虛飾。巨大的床鋪絲廉半掩，空氣中有一抹淡雅的幽香。Tony皺皺鼻子，這股味道對現在的他來說有點太...撲鼻。"你是誰家走失的啊？" 一個渾厚愉快的聲音從房間另一頭傳來，Tony今晚的目標——Asgard王位繼承人——Thor Odinson大步朝他走來。王子身上僅著一件長袍，鬆軟的白毛巾掛在肩頭，半長金髮隨意披散其上，末稍還留有沐浴後的水氣。Tony傲慢地擺動尾巴，當你擁有1250磅的咬力，在多數情況下都不會感到緊張，何況許多有錢有勢的傢伙都喜歡養豹當寵物，他並不擔心王子能認出自己。呃，總之不會太擔心。Thor拍拍他的頭。敢對獸人做出這種舉動就要有四肢不全的心理準備，但Tony懂得自我控制。Thor走到門邊將門上鎖，回來時順手拿起桌上的一個盤子。"來，這裡有些食物，你餓了吧？"盤子擺到Tony面前，他心中豹子的那部分口水直流，望著淋漓的血管和晃動的肥肉——盤子的內緣泛著銀色的金屬光澤。他謹慎地抬頭。Thor微笑回望。"不餓嗎？你的嘴巴說你餓了。"有東西扣住Tony的脖子，他轉頭去咬，只咬到長袍的衣帶，頸子隨即感到一陣刺痛。"我向來喜歡在我的所有物上宣示主權。" 笑容消失了，Thor蹲下來湊到Tony眼前說，"這個銀項圈是我特別為你準備的，喜歡嗎？Tony。" * 沒人知道為什麼只有銀才能對獸人造成真正傷害，雖然這個項圈並非全由純銀打造，不過是在皮革外側鑲上銀邊，但要對付今晚的Tony已經十分足夠，他毫無準備，被抓了個措手不及。銀的效果開始顯現出來，力量從Tony體內快速流失，繼續維持豹形變得越發困難。在本能的驅使下，Tony變身了。他發出綿延不絕的吼聲，在地板上翻滾撲騰，背骨拉直抽長，獸掌折成人手，豹形縮小人形放大，兩種形態互相交疊拉扯。喀噠，輕柔詭異的一聲。結束了，一如開始時突然。Tony氣喘吁吁地伏在地上，身上大片的蜜色肌膚隨著急促的呼吸劇烈起伏，他赤身裸體，僅有一層晶瑩的薄汗覆蓋全身。變身需要投入大量的注意力與集中力，受到銀項圈干擾的Tony無法完全化為人形，只見一條長長的豹尾自他脊骨末端延伸開展，在渾圓挺翹的臀部上蜷繞成圈，淩亂不羈的深色頭髮中則聳著一對毛茸茸的豹耳。"你瘋了！你明知道在Asgard擁有銀是犯法的！" Tony氣息不穩的控訴，瞪向Thor的棕色大眼裡滿是難以置信。Thor剛剛一直以一種優雅的閒適半坐臥在床上，居高臨下的觀賞著這齣變身秀。 "為了你，我不介意破個例。" 他尊貴地說，姿態也是天生就位於食物鏈頂端的感覺，渾身散發出某種泰然自若、蓄勢待發的高高在上。正是Tony最討厭的那種。"哼，露出真面目了是吧？裝什麼公平正義。" Tony齜牙，露出比起普通人類而言仍嫌稍長的犬齒挑釁。答錯了。一般狀況下，Thor向來不怎麼介意這種口舌之能，不僅是出於對獵物的尊重，很多時候也是因為別有一番樂趣，但今晚的他卻沒了以往的興致和餘裕，他使勁一拽，把Tony拖近。再次往前栽倒的Tony這才注意到Thor手中那條和項圈相連的銀色鎖鏈。"鎳作的？" Tony嘲笑，透過又密又長的睫毛上緣瞅著Thor，似乎一點兒也不急著站起來，也似乎一點兒都沒把自己目前的處境放在心上，他本來還想再多刻薄幾句，卻被Thor一把掐住下顎。"該有人教教你怎麼正確使用你這張嘴。" Thor沉聲說，起身站到Tony面前，手中長鏈一圈一圈繞過手掌，迫使Tony跪在Thor衣袍大敞的雙腿中間，把頭越仰越高。哦。 Tony的眼睛瞬間睜大，因為理解而生的警惕，以及—— 欲望。 * Thor的老二巨大滾燙，在Tony的嘴裡進進出出。Thor仍然掌控著Tony的下巴，讓Tony無法按照自己的喜好自由吞吐吸吮。Thor臉上的表情因為背光而晦暗不清，但Tony還是可以從對方繃緊的前額和抿直的嘴角看出Thor的自制力正被牢牢緊束，而無論是什麼系住了王子，Tony唯一想做的就是將其摧毀殆盡。於是他在Thor的注視下，非常刻意地翻了翻眼睛，設法以一個嘴裡塞滿老二的人所能辦到的最大程度傳達出他的嘲弄。暗藍的眼睛瞇緊了，一個挺腰，Thor粗長的陰莖直抵Tony咽後壁，Tony忍不住乾嘔，Thor停住不動，生理性的淚水霎時漫過Tony眼眶。"別再挑戰我。" Thor說，眼中閃出雷電般的光芒。Thor向前戳刺的速度開始加快，他扣住Tony下顎的力道現在宛如鐵鉗，Tony沒法控制節奏或把頭撇開，只能努力放鬆喉嚨，同時在每一次Thor抽出時盡可能吸足氧氣，透明的唾液順著Tony嘴角不停流下，牽出淫糜的銀絲。Thor的拇指逗留在Tony那張含著自己陰莖的嘴上，來回描摹的樣子就像那是他無法抵抗的引力。隨著一次尤為深入的挺動，Thor無預警射進Tony嘴裡，Tony嗆住了，可Thor還是沒有後退，直到他確定Tony把他的精液全都嚥下他才鬆手抽開。空氣猛地竄入，Tony倒在地上不住嗆咳，每一次呼吸都感覺自己的喉嚨、胸口和肺臟像被狠狠扯開，沒給Tony太多喘息的機會，Thor手中長鏈一振，將Tony直接甩上床。"咳、咳咳...搞什麼鬼？你是真的，咳...真的生氣了？" 揉揉酸痛的下巴，Tony四仰八叉的攤在床上問。"你說呢？你一個月才回來一次！身為你的戀人、你的伴侶，我想我非常有資格生氣。" Thor抱起雙臂回應，模樣卻不像他所想要展現的那麼冷靜。剛才的性事早已成功將Thor喚起，讓他難以再維持完整人形。燈光下，Thor耳朵的位置和形狀都變了，變得又短又圓，竄出頭頂，半長金髮現在更長了，向下延伸至肩膀，比起頭髮更像鬃毛，穿出長袍的尾巴憤怒地颼颼擺動，末端還長著一簇深色長毛。是的，獸人之國Asgard自古以來的統治者皆為獅型獸人，Thor自然也不例外。原本盡情伸著懶腰的Tony一聽，這才靈巧地翻過身子望向他的王子殿下，頗感意外的歪著一邊耳朵，"不會吧？當初在長老議會前替我擔保的不就是你嗎？""那是因為我知道那會讓你快樂！" Thor低喝，拳頭一下握、一下放，難以言喻的焦躁在他體內不斷攀升。"我是很快樂，人類世界比我原先以為的要好玩多了。" 不覺有異的Tony開心地晃晃尾巴同意， "有幾個傢伙真的很有意思：一個超級士兵、一個脾氣發作就要人命的大塊頭、還有一對暗殺高手。" 他帶著自己都沒意識到的喜愛之情一一細數，"我有沒有跟你說過，我們有一次——""你、說、過、了，很、多、次。" Thor猛地打斷，相當咬牙切齒。Tony眨眨眼。原來如此。 "所以你才整出這些？" 他彎起嘴角，朝脖子上的項圈和地上的銀盤揮手示意，"矮油，我們的小獅王該不會是寂寞了吧？" 到底沒忍住，Tony臉上的表情徹底咧成一個壞笑。"不准那樣叫我！" Thor吼，不出所料地撲向Tony。Tony笑嘻嘻往後一倒，兩人滾作一團，都在試圖取得上風制伏對方，Tony本就不著片縷，Thor的浴袍也早早被判出局，肉貼肉的交纏扭動讓這場角力變調得十分冶蕩。Thor利用天生的體型優勢再度翻到Tony上方，惱怒地抓住Tony反抗的雙臂，將它們釘死在黑髮男人的腦袋上，Tony意思意思的掙了幾下，Thor發出充滿佔有欲的低咆，把手抓得更緊。"認輸了？" Tony仰臉沖他笑，邊問邊喘，大眼因戲謔而光芒閃耀。Thor兇猛的吻住Tony，以最有效率的方式堵上那張氣死人不償命的嘴，Tony欣然迎之，張嘴任Thor為所欲為，尖牙與利齒互相噬咬、碰撞，腥甜血味在彼此交換的唾液中迅速彌漫開來，引起Tony短短的嗚咽，Thor伸長舌頭探的更深，順著Tony的上顎捲動磨蹭，吻得Tony幾近窒息。等蹂躪夠了，Thor才稍稍退開。"向我發誓，說你永遠不會愛上別人。" Thor抵在Tony紅腫刺痛的唇上命令。他的聲音低緩沙啞，仍如帝王般威儀，聽不出一點破綻，但在這麼近的距離裡一切都無所遁形。不安與渴切，希冀與迫望——所有那些Thor願意讓Tony看見的， Tony能夠理解的、不能理解的種種情愫都在那雙天藍色的眼眸中纏結、翻湧。Tony頓覺口乾舌燥，心如擂鼓。他想要。想要那個。想要Thor眼中的神色，想要Thor再也不會用這種眼神看其他人。Tony不記得自己曾經像此刻一樣如此凶蠻的渴望過任何東西。"發誓？呃，好、好，這沒問題，這我，這我做得到，" 他知道自己嗑巴得都快趕上唱片跳針了，可他就是停不下來，"前題是，你也得向我保證、向我保證這誓言是雙向的？" 媽的，我剛剛是不是用了疑問句？ Tony感覺他的心臟不是被撕成兩半就是漲得快爆掉了，先前的遊刃有餘彷佛來自另外一個人、另外一個時空。完了完了完了全毀了！我不知道！我怎麼會知道！我以為今晚就和之前的那些夜晚一樣沒什麼區別！我從來沒想過，沒想過Thor也會對我——喔，該死！瞧我都說了些什麼蠢話？天吶天吶天吶我要失去他了—— "很公平，我答應了。" Thor微笑，正是能讓人從裡暖到外的那種。然後Tony就又能正常呼吸了。"行，我——行啊！" Tony大笑，頭還暈著，伶牙俐齒的本事就已經奇跡似地原地滿血復活，"那你現在是要開始操我，還是我得先學迪士尼公主開口唱完主題曲之後再——唔嗯嗯——"Thor摁住他，再度把他吻進床墊裡。這次就溫柔許多，Thor的嘴巴又暖又甜又潮，還浸著他獨有的辛辣，Tony簡直要嚐不夠，他喜歡——他能就這麼吻上一輩子。但顯然Thor有其他更重要的打算，他鬆開對Tony的禁錮，整個人覆上去，一隻手滑下Tony身側，所到之處燃起一串火苗，火燙的舌尖向下掃蕩，在鎖骨那兒逡巡了一會兒後繼續往下，來到胸口，舐著乳尖舔咬逗弄，直到它充血挺立。Tony發出一聲小小的尖叫，Thor抬眼，在Tony面前對另一邊如法炮製，目光一刻不離，當中滿溢的掠奪性直叫Tony心律一陣亂顫，抖得像又經歷一場無名恐慌發作。"鄭重宣佈，你對我的心臟有著非常、非常壞的影響。" Tony喘息。"我知道。" Thor貼著Tony的肚皮輕笑，震動立時下擴。他分開Tony雙腿，將自己安置其中，嘴唇沿著Tony髖骨到盆骨的堅硬曲線一路蜿蜒。Tony已經很硬了，當Thor用舌頭在Tony繃緊的小腹上一圈圈打轉時，他硬到發痛的老二甚至無須依靠任何外力就開始泌出滴滴前液。被撩撥到不行，Tony伸手想撫慰自己，卻被Thor重重一口咬在大腿內側。"嗷！你幹嘛？" Tony驚叫，疼痛與快感各半。"我有允許你摸自己嗎？" Thor慢吞吞的說，一下一下舔著Tony皮膚上滲出的血點。"老天！" Tony哀鳴，挫敗地把頭跌落在床上，"你這是要玩死我啊？""改天吧。" Thor撐起身子，朝Tony露齒一笑。Tony本想回嘴來著，可Thor偏要挑在這時旋過上身去取床櫃上的潤滑，光影交錯下，Thor堪稱完美的肉體纖毫畢現，他的身體沒什麼是Tony沒見過的，但每次都還是能令他目眩神迷、神魂顛倒。Thor轉回來，抬起Tony右腿掛在自己臂彎上，又塞了個枕頭到Tony懸空的脊柱下，動作流暢，一氣呵成。光顧著兩眼發直，死盯Thor背肌伸展的Tony完全任人擺佈，待他回過神來，一根充分被油膏浸潤過的手指已經溜下他的臀縫，在入口處揉擠按壓。"專．心。" Thor湊近，嘶聲警告，不等Tony辯白，便用靈巧有力的手指將他刺穿。這下Tony不專心也得專心。對，當你屁股裡有根滑溜的手指在勤耕不懈就是有此等奇效。他的大腦充斥著嗡嗡的白噪音，所有血液一路往下狂奔，滑膩的肉棒隨Thor每一下探索、戳弄卜卜跳動。"才一根就這麼濕了？" Thor調笑，神情看著卻並不愉悅。Tony咬住嘴唇，愣是不肯支聲。不行，不能在專制王權面前輕易示弱，得讓他見識見識人民意志的堅忍卓絕——至少再絕個幾秒鐘。耐心終告用罄，Thor撤出手指，握住自己腫脹堅挺的老二，對準後一口氣全捅了進去。Tony登時被插的眼冒金星，很爽，Thor的雞巴那麼大，比手指不知粗了多少，大大地滿足了Tony被開拓後亟需填滿的空虛，但也很痛，因為Tony根本來不及適應，Thor接下來的舉措更是火上澆油，他抓住Tony膝蓋，將他扳得雙腿大開，毫不留情地操進Tony身體裡，又快又狠，像在給Tony打上烙印，像在宣示自己主權，像是要從此佔領Tony的身心靈直到世界末日。Tony有限的自制力經過方才那場漫長前戲的折騰後本就所剩無幾，這會兒哪還有餘力招架？感官神經彷佛通通都著了火，燒灼的快感夾裹著美妙的疼痛席捲全身，Tony就快撐不下去了。"...T、Thor...嗯...啊...停—停下來...嗯...不...不要——”破碎的呻吟一窒，Tony激烈的射了。一片金光閃耀的高潮中，Tony爽到動彈不得只剩躺在那兒倒氣的份兒，但即使如此，他也很難不去注意到他親愛的王子殿下好像一點都沒有退出去的打算。"你好敏感，" Thor說，聲音是緊繃的平靜，"沒幾下就被插射了，還不用碰你這裡。" 他伸出一根食指，由下而上劃過Tony才剛釋放的性器，指尖還蹭上了一點白濁。"那是因為老子憋了一個月！你個該死的王八蛋，還不快從我身上他媽的滾開！" Tony一緩過勁兒來就用他最接近吼叫的氣若遊絲喊。Tony Stark不害羞，甭管他顴骨上可疑的紅暈是怎麼來的，他就不。狂爆粗口也不是為了要掩飾自己老二在此情此景下竟有再度蠢動的趨勢。叛徒！他暗罵，悲憤的看到那不爭氣的東西又抽了抽。"一個月？所以——沒有別人？" Thor逼問，傾身靠得更近。釘在Tony身體裡的那根兇器因此嵌得更深，有效地終結了Tony想用腳把Thor踹下去的企圖。但讓Tony之所以停下反抗的還有他目之所見，焦躁與不安似重又在Thor眼中徘徊，那是比幾乎完全盛開的瞳孔還要漆黑的顏色。我們啊，就是一對傻屌。Tony不由得在心裡翻了個大大的白眼。他向來清楚自己早就愛Thor愛得發昏，只是直到今天才曉得，原來眼前這個無論從各方面來看都是天之驕子一詞在世上實體化的傢伙，對自己的感覺竟然也是一樣。雖然不知道Thor到底是中了哪門子邪，但Tony對此可沒啥好抱怨的，他只希望——衷心希望Thor清醒的那一天永遠永遠永遠也不會到來。不過，感動歸感動，該找補的面子還是得好好找補回來才行。"唔，不好說啊，" Tony故作天真地霎霎眼睫毛，"你接茬試試不就知道了？" 還惡劣地夾了Thor一下。"正有此意。" Thor咆哮，貨真價實的一聲獅吼，其原始獸性激起Tony一陣共鳴的顫抖。戰局再開。 * "...嗯...哈、哈...嗯...啊..." Tony斷斷續續的呻吟著，汗水打濕的黑髮落在兩頰頰側，以一種特定的頻率前後搖擺晃動。他四肢著地跪趴在床上，屁股高高翹起，承受著Thor每一次規律緩慢的撞擊，項圈上的長鏈穩穩牽在Thor手中，一切行動都被限制，同樣遭到嚴格管束的還有Tony的老二，Thor的獅子尾巴現正纏在他陰莖根部，徹底斷了Tony所有退路。倒不是說他真有這個需要就是。這是一場勝負僅在毫釐之間的意志之戰，Tony能看到事情是怎麼發生的，他想要它發生。Thor持鏈在手，全程操駕著Tony，他插得既深且重，還該死的精準，一下一下全撞在Tony前列腺上，他滴落的前液多到都足以把床單弄濕一小塊了，但只要Thor的尾巴還箍著他就射不出來，想射又不能射，這未獲緩解的射精欲望讓他的後穴反射性地縮個不停。"嘶——好舒服，你真緊..." Thor嘆息，俯身咬住Tony尖尖的豹耳百般折磨。"這...這樣就...相、相信我了？" Tony嘶啞地說，試著讓呼哧帶喘的聲音聽起來更像挑釁一點而非可憐兮兮的嗚咽。Thor聞言重重往前一頂，"最終會的。" 他在他耳際允諾，奇異地混和了懲罰與寵溺。期待的顫慄順著Tony的脊柱延燒而下。有時候就是不可能贏過Thor。Tony恍惚地想，自己能做的也只有儘量不要輸得太難看而已。來不及了。Thor突然攥住Tony敏感的尾巴，先是慢慢捋過其上滿布的美麗斑紋，再越過尾端回到根部揉捏撫弄，Tony雙膝一軟，要不是鏈子拉住準會一頭砸在床上。尾巴根部幅射出的快感沿著脊椎一路爆裂，Tony難以抑制地弓起身子，指甲用力刨進床墊，深色的眼睛頓時霧氣氤氳。"不、不要...尾、尾巴..." Tony鬆開咬得死緊的嘴唇，費力擠出這麼一句，渾身抖得像篩糠一樣。Thor暫時停下動作，"什麼尾巴？是這邊的嗎？" 他明知故問，繞在Tony老二上的獅尾開始不緊不慢的上下套弄，見Tony根本說不出半個字又繼續用手在Tony尾巴根部揉弄不休。"還是這裡的？嗯？你不說清楚我怎麼知道？" ... 這混蛋！ Tony沒辦法，只好轉頭硬逼自己開口再試一次。"尾巴...我的尾巴...別、別弄我的尾巴——"他狠狠地瞪著那個可惡的、愛欺負人的(未來的)萬獸之王。沒想到他瞪到的是他媽的自取滅亡。在Thor眼中，Tony腫脹微啟的嘴唇，染成粉色的臉頰和若隱若現的柔軟舌尖，無一不是遠比貓薄荷更為強效的催情劑，尤其是那雙因情欲而朦朧失焦的濕潤大眼，再配上語不成聲的淩亂喘息——別說挑逗了，這根本就是赤裸裸的勾引加撒嬌！Thor殘存的自制力至此全面潰散。無法再滿足於現在的姿勢，他放開Tony尾巴，扯起長鏈將Tony拽成跪姿，另一隻手握緊Tony髖骨，固定住他後猛然挺身。Tony悠長、無聲地呻吟著被貫穿。Thor插得那麼重、那麼深，徹底把他撐開，一次一次幾乎完全抽出再用力撞回，循環往復，持續不斷。Tony無處可逃，無計可施，只能接納，只有接納。當Tony胸口向後拱起的弧度夠了，Thor就把一隻手繞至他身前，掐住乳頭揉撚拉扯，再往下握住Tony的勃起，保持手、胯的節奏一致，讓Tony在操進自己拳頭裡的同時狠操Tony。Tony掙扎著喘息，整片下體都在快感中滾滾燒燙，他努力想在壓力和入侵中尋找一絲緩解卻遍尋不到，肉體各處的愉悅彼此撞擊、交疊，Thor的每個舉動都為他帶來更強烈的暈眩，掛在長長睫毛上的水珠終於承受不住滑落下墜，想要射精的欲望強烈到近乎疼痛。"還不行喔，" Thor在被操哭的Tony耳邊低嗥，尾巴仍綁在Tony陰莖根部，"你是我的，聽見了嗎？我、的！" 他一字一字地說，伴以每一下的深插和強擼。Tony無法思考，也說不出話，只得胡亂地點著頭。"很好。" Thor滿意地咆哮，鬆開尾巴。所有累積的欲火和快感於此刻全數爆發，高潮瞬間擊中Tony，他大叫著射了，後穴緊緊裹住Thor攣縮抽搐，Thor嗆出一聲介於Tony名字和髒話之間的吼叫，最後抽送了一下、兩下、三下——也跟著越過頂峰，在Tony體內清空自己。之後的事多少有些模糊，Tony仰面躺在床上，隱約感覺到脖子上的項圈被打開了，Thor幫他按摩了一會兒，先是用手現在換成嘴，埋在他脖子附近又蹭又啃，濃密的絡腮胡刺得他直癢癢。盯著那顆動來動去的金色腦袋，Tony這才意識到，自己其實是想輸的。沒有別人。從來就沒有，我愛的是你，Thor，只有你。"我也愛你，Tony。" Thor抬頭望著他，笑意盈盈。"呃，我說出來了？" 他眨眨眼。"沒錯。" Thor歡快地說，亮出一口白牙。"嘿，收起你的混帳笑容，老子故意讓你贏的。" Tony說，但他臉上的笑容一點也不比Thor小。"這不是遊戲，Tony，我是認真的。" Thor說得無比莊重。"我也是啊，不然——" Tony拉長尾音，湊過去往Thor嘴巴上飛快的舔了一口，"三戰兩勝怎麼樣？" 他退開微笑。Thor大吼一聲朝他撲來。看來這場仗還有得打。 [完]
10727445	Origin of Love	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Criminal Minds", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-25T00:00:00", "words": "1,220", "Additional Tags": "Reader-Insert, Alternate Universe - Soulmates", "Relationship": "Spencer Reid/Reader", "Character": "Spencer Reid", "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	There was no scientific evidence to prove how soulmates came to be, how they chose each other before personality and interests even developed. There were theories, perhaps it was something to do with atoms, how when a person dies their atoms go on to become something else and then eventually other humans - maybe soulmates were just certain atoms wanting to be near each other again. In Greek mythology they said that humans were born with four legs, four arms and a head with two faces and that one day Zeus decided to split the humans into two separate beings, soulmates were just two halfs of one whole trying to find each other again. What if they were lovers in past lives, reincarnated to spend another lifetime in love?Spencer didn’t know what he believed. There was no logic to it, no science had yet explained how the human body knew what it’s soulmate’s first words to them would be, if anything it just made him question all he thought he knew. He considered himself mostly a non believer but could fate be a real, measurable thing? Maybe soulmates were some act of god, gifting the world with that one person who wasn’t perfect for you, but complimented you perfectly.He stared down at the phone, the numbers scribbled onto his hand were beginning to fade. Everyone of the team knew about his encounter and had congratulated him but he knew they didn’t know about his doubts.After everything that happened with Maeve, Spencer found himself for a long while being scared to get close to anyone. It seemed like his life had a habit of bringing people in whom he’d learn to love and then take them away. She wasn’t his soulmate but he loved her, he’d told himself that it didn’t matter they weren’t “meant” to be together by whatever cosmic power had forced someone else’s words onto his skin, she loved him and that was enough. But she was gone now, and nothing could bring her back. He had to focus on not messing up another girl’s life because he was afraid.Slowly, he dialled the number and waited patiently, his leg bouncing up and down; his body’s way of controlling his nervousness.“Hello?” (Y/N)’s voice filled his ears, the first thing he noticed about it was how it made his skin come up in goosebumps. It was soft, welcoming, despite not knowing who was calling. There was also excitement hidden within it, like somewhere in her body she knew it was him.“Hi, uh. It’s Spencer, from the bookstore.” Spencer didn’t really get nervous talking to girls, he found himself to be rather good at coming across as calm or at least somewhat put together but under the circumstances it was more nerve wrecking. Maybe it was because he hadn’t really spoken to many girls in a romantic matter before and therefore just assumed he was good at it, since there was no evidence pointing otherwise. A smile came across his lips when he heard the gasp of excitement across the line.“Oh! Yes! I was worried you weren’t going to call for a second, I kept getting calls that weren’t from you.” (Y/N) said, a light giggle dancing across her words, from just the way he sounded he was inclined to like her.“Sorry about that, and I’m sorry for rushing off earlier. It was important; not that you aren’t important! It’s just that this was… more so? This is coming out all wrong I’m sorry.” Spencer laughed awkwardly, fiddling with some random pen he found on his desk. It was late enough that everyone else had left the office but not so late that he looked odd for still being there.“No I get it! You had to deal with that… oh, what did you call it?” She paused, humming quietly to herself to gain concentration. “Unsub! I have no clue what the hell that is but I hope that book helped you deal with it.” While Spencer loved his job, it was nice having someone who wasn’t involved with it, it took a lot of his fear away. (Y/N) was just normal and after all he’d been through - normal sounded nice.“Unknown subject, that’s, uh, what unsub stands for.” Spencer smiled at her ignorance, he imagined her cuddled up on the couch, phone in hand and a book closed on the lap, he remembered her beautiful smile and the way her eyes had initially widened when he spoke for the first time.“I’m not even going to pretend like I know what that means.” (Y/N) laughed, it was bubbly and loud and Spencer could hear herself moving around in the background to get comfortable. “So…you’re the man I’m suppose to spend the rest of my life with, huh?” There was a tinge of flirtiness now in her voice that made Spencer’s cheeks heat up, it also made his stomach tense up. It was scary hearing it out loud and for it to actually be true. It brought him back to thinking about how people always ended up leaving, whether that was by choice or not. He knew nothing about this girl apart from she had a nice laugh and was suppose to be perfect for him according to whatever brought soulmates together but he knew he didn’t want her to get too close if she ended up leaving.The silence wasn’t for long but it caused an awkward barrier between them, Spencer listened to the sound of (Y/N) breathing for a few moments before she spoke up.“Sorry, was that too much? I’m really kind of new to all this, I didn’t mean to scare you off.” The avid friendliness of her voice had changed into something tender, almost mothering to a point, Spencer wondered for a second how she could be so worried about someone she’d just met and then he remembered that was the majority of his job.“I’m new to this too..” His voice was softer as well, to anyone who hadn’t been involved in the conversation it would have sounded like he was sad. Who was to say he wasn’t? “You didn’t scare me I’m just… could we take this slow? I want to get to know you first before we jump into anything.”“Of course, Spencer.” (He took note on how gentle his name was of her tongue, like she was treasuring it.) “You have to return my book anyways, it’s not a good way to start a relationship if I have to report you and your friend to the police.” There it was again, the flirtiness but this time it didn’t scare him.“Can I meet you again? Spencer licked his lips nervously after the words came tumbling out of his mouth, his fingernail digging nervously into the pen he still was holding. “If you want? I’d prefer to talk face to face.”“I’d love that, do you think I could return the kiss you gave me?”Spencer heaved out a breathy chuckle, the corners of his eyes creasing up with his smile. He looked down at his arm, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up so he could look at the words engraved into his skin.“I’ll think about it.”
10711311	Not a Moment Too Soon	{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": null, "Characters": "Andy Roddick, Mardy Fish, Various Characters, Original Characters", "Fandom": "Tennis RPF", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by idra", "chapters": "12/12", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-23T00:00:00", "words": "53,016", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Western, Mentions of Rape & previous abuse", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Andy Roddick & Mardy Fish, Other pairings later on", "Series": "Renegades, Rebels, and Rogues", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "Gen, M/M", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	At eight years old, Andy loved Texas and his family. He delighted in following his older brother, Lawrence, around his farm, though he didn't like working with his dad on their farm, not too far from Lawrence's place. But mostly, he looked up to his brother, John. So, when Andy was fifteen and his brother had been a Texas Ranger, Andy decided then and there that he was going to follow in John's footsteps instead of their dad's. He knew that farming and ranching wasn't for him, though he knew his dad had hopes of him running the farm. At fifteen, Andy had become the youngest Texas Ranger in history-- they were notorious for not taking anyone who was under eighteen. He loved his work, but Andy always felt as though something was missing from his life, though he could never be quite sure what it was that was missing. He was also the most infamous Texas Ranger, with many outlaws trying to draw down on him, just so they could say that they were the one who killed Andy Roddick. He knew that the criminals considered it a badge of honour when they shot and killed Rangers, but somehow, he was always the better man, even if he wasn't quite old enough to be considered a man. But he grew tired of the life, unable to stay in one place long because he was always needed somewhere else. And, though he frequently headed back home to see his family, he knew that he wasn't as welcome with them as he was with strangers, because his mom saw his being a Ranger as a betrayal of his father's wishes and his brother, Lawrence, hated that Andy had gotten out and he hadn't. Only John was exempt from making him feel unwelcome, but considering they usually worked together as partners, they had to work together and get along. But then the moment came that would change his life for forever, although he didn't know it at the time. His brother was killed and he was cast adrift. His family wanted nothing to do with him, because he hadn't been with John when John and a couple of their compatriots had raided the Indian encampment looking for a bank robber that had supposedly been hiding out there. The Indians hadn't taken well to being raided and had lashed out, causing a full blown panic, which had gotten John and two other Rangers killed by the bad guys. Only one got away. Andy gladly got revenge for his brother's death on one of the men, but he felt restless and needed to find something new to do with his life, because even though he did truly enjoy being a Ranger, he couldn't continue doing it. And it wasn't until he walked into the McEnroe Saloon in Austin and first laid eyes on a pretty boy with bright blue eyes and longish blond hair that he realized he could have a future outside of being a Ranger. While he was attracted to the blue-eyed blonde, he wanted to help him more than he wanted to fuck him when he saw the whore being abused by Patrick McEnroe. And so he did, rescuing the whore whose name was Mardy and they left Austin, heading for anywhere but there, finally deciding to move to a small town called Bluebonnet. Andy felt at home in Bluebonnet, finally able to be himself and despite the fact that he wanted to stay out of law enforcement, when the townspeople came to him and offered him the job of Sheriff, he took it, because he knew deep down, he needed the adventure. It also helped that Mardy felt safe in Bluebonnet, so Andy was able to leave his friend alone on occasion. Now, all he wanted to do was help Mardy get better, and keep his small town safe from any harm. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Andy watched over the rim of his cup of coffee, as Mardy moved about the kitchen with a slow, painful gait. Even though most of his injuries had healed, he had a nagging knee injury that acted up every now and then. "Need help?" he asked again. It was the third or fourth time he'd asked the question and every time he got the same scowl as an answer. He shrugged and went back to drinking his coffee, then glanced down at the week old newspaper. It was hard to get brand new news in Bluebonnet, though rumour had it there'd be a telegraph office put in soon. He glanced up when there was a knock on the door and noticed that Mardy was breathing heavily and staring at the door in that wide-eyed shocked way he had. Andy stood and made his way to the door, forcing himself to smile at Belle. "Ma'am," he murmured, tilting his hat at her. "Sheriff, there's some hooligans trying to cause a fight in my saloon. I expect you to take care of it." "Do I get to shoot anyone?" Andy asked, smiling when she frowned at him. He liked the whore; she always gave off a sort of motherly vibe towards him and was always kind to Mardy, even though Mardy usually shied away from her. Anyone who showed Mardy any kind of kindness was liked by the former Ranger. "All right, I'm goin'." Turning, he saw Mardy staring at Belle-- either fear or hatred blazing in those stunning blue eyes-- and he knew he couldn't leave the lady alone with his friend. "Belle, c'mon back with me." "Now, Sheriff, you go take care of those boys. I want to talk to your young friend here." Andy's lips quirked up in a half smile. Though he was the younger of the two men, everyone treated him as the elder. He wasn't sure if it was because of his protectiveness or if it was because Mardy just seemed-- and in the end, was-- that fragile. "All right. I'll be back shortly." He fingered his hat and headed out the door, reluctant to leave Mardy alone with the whore, but knowing he had to do his duty. He'd retired as a Ranger, mostly by choice, though there had been the element of not wanting to have to drag Mardy all over Texas and back. But as soon as the townsfolk in Bluebonnet got to know him and found out that he'd been one of the most feared Texas Ranger's in history-- even though he was only fifteen when he joined-- they'd immediately begged him to be Sheriff, since their former Sheriff had gotten himself shot in a shoot out at Belle's place. As he walked the short distance to Belle's saloon, he contemplated the trek he and Mardy had gone on after he'd killed Patrick McEnroe. They'd made fast time getting to this small town, mostly because Andy knew Mardy couldn't take the stress of being out in the wild where anyone and anything could sneak up on them and attack. Though he'd never categorize Mardy as a coward-- in Andy's opinion, anyone who made it through all the shit that Mardy had survived couldn't be a coward-- Mardy was on edge most of the time and even Andy had to step carefully around him to avoid startling the former whore. It wasn't that Mardy was ever violent, more that he'd have complete panic attacks and Andy didn't know how to handle them, so often he'd resorted to locking Mardy in rooms and leaving him to his attack. He knew that it probably wasn't the best way to deal with Mardy, but it was the only way he'd had to deal. He sighed and walked down the road, pushing his way into the saloon. The fight that had broken out sometime between when Belle left and Andy arrived stopped almost immediately and Andy smirked, knowing the men were most likely afraid of him. He'd grown used to that over the years and now enjoyed watching men who were bigger than him or older than him be frightened when he walked into a room. "Now, what seems to be the problem here?" he asked, glancing from one man to the next, taking in the fact that there were three men who'd been involved in the fight. "Sheriff," one of the men said, stepping forward. "There ain't no problem." "Well, that's not what Miss Belle says, and I have to tell you, I'm going to take her word over yours." "She's nothing but a whore!" one of the other men snarled. "At least she makes her living honestly," Andy replied, glaring at the man, his hand hovering over his gun and all of the men in the bar-- not just the three involved in the fight-- glanced to his hand and took an involuntary step backwards. "Which is more than I can say for you boys. Cattle rustling, isn't that what I arrested you for, Jake?" he asks, focused on the third man who had yet to speak. Everyone turned to stare at Jake, who went for his gun, but before he could even brush against it, Andy had drawn his and shot Jake between the eyes. "Now, boys, are we going to have any more fights in Miss Belle's saloon?" The two others that had been fighting both shook their heads and ran for the door, and Andy distantly heard horses pounding down the main drive. Andy smiled and tipped his hat at the bartender, then at the prostitutes that had gathered on the steps. "Ladies," he murmured before turning on his heel to head back home. Halfway there, he saw Belle walking towards him. "Ma'am, I had to kill one of them, but the other two are gone." "Thank you, Sheriff." She paused and frowned, looking like she wanted to say something. "What is it, ma'am?" "Your friend... he's... he's not well." "I'm doing my best for him, Belle." Andy knew he sounded defensive, but he hated it when anyone questioned his taking care of Mardy. They weren't there and they hadn't seen how bad Mardy could get. "I don't know what else I can do to help him." "What that boy needs is a job. Can't he work for you in your office?" Andy raised an eyebrow at that and smiled slightly. "Mardy already does work in my office. He doesn't like it when I'm too far away from him." "Well, then, hon, maybe you should just fuck him and see if that helps." Belle glared at Andy and put her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised expectantly. Andy fought back a laugh and shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I'm the one person he trusts and if I tried to have sex with him, he'd never forgive me." Andy sighed and glanced towards the house before continuing, "He was... pardon my language, ma'am, but he was a whore and not happy about it when I first met him. I had to kill his keeper in order to get him away and he's still skittish when people even think about sex around him." "Well, you need to figure something out. He's going to be in real trouble if he doesn't try to heal himself soon." With that, Belle stalked past Andy back to her saloon. Andy sighed and shook his head, tucking his hands in his pockets as he started for home. He didn't know what he could do to help Mardy, though he had some ideas, but he couldn't force his friend to do anything and he didn't want to because he didn't want to hurt Mardy any worse. He just hoped that someday, someone would come along who would be able to help Mardy be more like a normal man than the scared little boy he currently was. He started back for home, nodding at the tall man walking towards him. "Sheriff?" the man said, causing Andy to look him over, automatically checking for weapons, but the tall man apparently wasn't wearing a gun so Andy smiled. "Name's Bob. Bryan." "Well, which is it?" Andy asked, frowning up at the other man. The man grinned. "Bob is my first name. Bryan's the surname, Sheriff." "Oh. Nice to meet you, Bob." "And you. I was wonderin' if we were gettin' the telegraph office in soon?" "Supposedly. I haven't talked to the telegraph people but I think they're sending someone to check out the building two doors down from me." "Ah. Good. Well, I have to get goin' to the store before Andre closes up for lunch." Bob tipped his hat at Andy who returned the gesture and finished the short walk home. He headed for the kitchen, surprised to see Mardy just sitting at the table, staring at his plate of food. "Mardy?" "Hey, Andy... Belle offered me a job at her bar." "Doing what?" Andy asked, taking off his hat and setting it on the hook near the door. He joined Mardy at the table after filling a plate with the stew Mardy had made. "Bartending, maybe cooking." "What about Robby? Isn't he the bartender?" "Apparently, his boyfriend wants him to move out to the farm with him." Mardy shrugged and continued staring at his plate. "What should I do?" "Do you want to work for her?" "As long as I don't have to whore myself out... I think I would like having a job." "Then say yes. It's not like I need you around to take care of me," Andy murmured reaching across the table and carefully patting Mardy's hand. "Which farm?" "The Bryan's place, I think is what she said." "Ah, I just met his boyfriend then." "Mike? Really?" "Oh. Must be brothers that run the place. No, I met Bob." Mardy nodded, looking up with a slight smile. "I wonder how they can stand living together?" "We do it." "But we're not really brothers," Mardy said with a sigh.Andy tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "I can't imagine they'd both stay together if they didn't get along." "I guess." Mardy shrugged and began eating, and Andy knew that he was trying to forget the conversation, but he couldn't help but want to draw the other man out. Even though he considered Mardy his best and closest friend, he didn't know much about Mardy except for he had been a whore and hadn't enjoyed it because his keeper had abused him."I have two brothers. Older, both of them. John's the reason I became a Ranger," he said with a slight smile. Mardy raised his head, looking surprised and Andy realized that even he never really talked about his past. "Yeah, I decided to follow in my brother, John's footsteps. Mama and Daddy weren't real happy with me, but I knew I had to do it. I just felt pulled to it." "You said you have two brothers?" "Yeah. John and Lawrence." Andy smiled. "Lawrence is a farmer out east, close to Dallas. Nice spread, they do some cattle herding too and I think they even have pigs and goats." "And you decided to follow in John's footsteps?" "Well, I always hated helping Lawrence on the farm, and my Daddy was a farmer too and I couldn't stand that. John's job seemed important and fun." Mardy smiled until Andy asked, "So, do you have any siblings?" "Just one," Mardy said finally. "Sister. Meredith. I haven't seen her for years. She came to see me once when I was in Austin so I'm sure she wouldn't want to see me again." "Why?" Mardy just shook his head and turned his attention back to his plate. "So, where's your mom and dad?" "Mama's living with Lawrence and his wife. Daddy died a couple of years ago, shortly after I became a Ranger." Andy sighed and touched Mardy's hand. "And your parents?" "Mom's... kicked me out. Dad died years ago. I hated him. I tried to protect Mom, but..." He trailed off with a sigh and shook his head. "Anyhow. Do you ever want to go see your mom and brothers?" "Well, when I was a Ranger, I used to go out that way a lot, but... ever since John died on a raid into an Indian encampment where some bank robbers were hiding out; my family doesn't really want to see me. I'm too much of a reminder of him." "I'm sorry about your brother. When did he... when was he killed?" Andy closed his eyes, feeling the burn of tears. "Just about a month before I met you. That's why I was at their place," he said softly, not mentioning the McEnroe name so as not to make Mardy angry or upset. "I wanted to drown my sorrows in beer and a man." "So, you've always preferred men?" "Yeah, mostly." Andy opened his eyes; glad they'd gotten off the subject of his brother. "When I first became a Ranger, I had my choice of any man or woman I could ever want, but the women just didn't make me burn the way men do. So, I figured out pretty quickly that I like men. What about you? Do you honestly prefer men or is that just... what happened to you?" "I don't know, I guess." Mardy just blinked at him, then smiled suddenly. "I mean, I've had women offer themselves to me, but... I wouldn't even know what to do with them. I mean, I assume they don't want it the way men do, and that's all I've ever known." Andy nodded, smiling back. "I guess that makes sense. But are you attracted to women at all?" "No. Or maybe I just don't know the right women, but no, I just... some of the men that Patrick brought to me, were very gentle and I liked it, but once Patrick found out I enjoyed being with some people, he made sure that only the meanest were brought to me." Mardy inhaled, holding his breath for a few seconds before exhaling loudly. "I guess I really like men better, but... I don't trust anyone enough to mount me, so it doesn't quite matter." "Well, someday you're bound to find someone who you'll love and trust enough to take you the way you should be taken." Andy squeezed Mardy's hand and smiled at him. "Now, why don't we finish our dinner and you can go tell Belle that you'll work for her, while I go take care of some business in the office?" "Good plan," Mardy replied, smiling back. And Andy for once had hope that Mardy might just be okay. Mardy glanced up from the bar as Andy walked in and he waved to his best friend then went back to pouring drinks for the table full of miners that had dropped in with their weeks' pay. He put the drinks on a tray as Andy sat down. "Be right back, And," he muttered, walking over to the table and laughing with the men as he handed out drinks.Andy grinned and nodded to Bob as he joined Andy at the bar. "How's it goin', Bob?" "Bob? I'm Mike." "But... I met you only a couple of days ago and you told me your name is Bob?" Mike laughed and shook his head. "Bob and I are twins. Almost no one can tell us apart." "Oh. Sorry. Well, nice to meet ya, then Mike." Andy laughed as well and shook hands with the farmer. "So, you're the one who's with the former bartender, right?" "Yep. Bob's boyfriend lives with us too. In fact, James is over at the general store picking up some groceries, while I came in with Robby to get his last weeks' pay." "Ah. Sounds like a good situation." "It works for us," Mike said, nodding when Mardy returned. "How's it going, Mardy?" "Well enough. Whiskey, And?" Andy nodded, focused on Mardy. Mike patted Andy on the shoulder and headed for the door. "See you both around," he said, waving goodbye. Andy waved absently but kept his attention on Mardy. "You enjoying your work?" "I like working here," Mardy said after a moment. "It's not exactly the most comfortable, being around the whores, but Belle's promised me that I don't have to do anything I'm not comfortable with and the girls mostly stay away from me.""Sounds like a good situation," Andy replied, sipping at his whiskey as Belle sauntered up to the bar. He glanced up at her when she patted his shoulder. "Ma'am." "Sheriff," she said, smiling at him. "So, tell me Sheriff, when are you going to come see my girls?" Blushing, Andy shook his head. "Not that they aren't beautiful, but I'm not quite interested in any of them. Not really my type," he said, glancing at Mardy out of the corner of his eye. Mardy was grinning from ear to ear as he wiped down the bar and Andy scowled at him."He likes men," Mardy said, gesturing to the girls who were sitting on various men's laps. "They really aren't his type and definitely not someone he'd be with." "Oh. Guess maybe I should have a few men around here for the likes of you, then," Belle said, patting Andy's hand. "Mardy, would you be a dear and go get the case of whiskey from the storage room?" Mardy nodded, eyes wider than normal at Belle's words. She caught the look and sighed. "Honey, I didn't mean I'd ask you to sell yourself. That's not for you and I know that. All I ask is that you tend bar and cook on occasion." Mardy nodded again and headed through the kitchen doors. Andy sighed and glanced at Belle. "Maybe you shouldn't bring in any male whores. I don't think his sanity is up to that." "You're probably right. I didn't mean to upset him. I like Mardy. He's a good boy." "Yeah, he is." Andy smiled and patted her hand.Belle grinned and headed over to the piano and started to play. Mardy returned, putting away the whiskey he'd pulled from storage. He glanced over at Belle, then looked at Andy. "So, what brings you in here?" "Thought I'd grab some supper and a drink and just hang around for a while. Friday nights are usually pretty hopping in here and I don't want to be dragged from home. Maybe if I'm here, the problems'll stay at a minimum." Mardy nodded and grabbed a rag, wiping down where he'd set the box that had held the whiskey. "I'll go grab you some chicken and dumplings." "Thanks." Andy sat back and watched as Mardy headed into the kitchen, then he turned his attention to the room around him. Most of the men were still fairly sober, though a handful were well past being drunk. He knew most of them wouldn't get out of hand, though he usually had to break up a few fights most Friday nights. He turned back when Mardy set a plate of food in front of him and he smiled at the blue-eyed man. "It really looks like you've found your spot," he said, digging into the food as Mardy poured a man a few seats down a drink. "Yeah, I like it here." Mardy nodded and handed over the drink, taking the payment and putting it in the till before leaning on the bar. "Ya know, maybe you should take Belle up on her offer of hospitality. I know you're probably in need..." "I'm fine, Mardy," Andy said firmly. "Besides, I really am not attracted to women, and I don't want to have to pay for it anyhow." Mardy laughed softly at that and nodded, going back to wiping things down behind the bar. Andy focused on his food, half-listening to the conversations going on around him. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Andy stepped into the general store a few days later and tipped his hat at Andre, glancing around at the musty merchandise before he headed for the counter. "Need to order some food," he said, approaching the old man behind the counter. "All right." Andre pulled out a tablet of paper and poised his pencil above it. "Let me know what you need." Andy ran down the list that Mardy had given him, trying to remember everything and when he was done, Andre nodded slowly. "I've got most of it in stock, but I'm not too sure 'bout some of those spices. Might have to special order them." "No problem. If you could just get it all together, I'll come back in a bit to pay for it." "Sure thing... oh, Sheriff, I've been meaning to ask, are you and that boy you're living with lovers?" Andy narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm warning you now, Agassi, Mardy is off limits, and if I so much as think you've made a move in his direction, I'll happily shoot you dead." Andre nodded. "Fine. Just wondered." "Well, don't wonder anymore and never let your mind wander to thoughts of Mardy!" Andy turned on his heel and stalked out, heading for the saloon. He spotted Mardy behind the bar and nodded to him before making a beeline straight for Belle. "Can we talk?" Belle stood up and led Andy into a small bedroom just off the kitchen. "What is it, Sheriff?" "I just wanted to warn you that Agassi has been looking in Mardy's direction. Do me a favour and make sure that jackass doesn't come near him when he comes here, please." "I can do that, darlin'. I'll help you protect Mardy." "Thanks, Belle." Andy leaned down, kissing her on the cheek before he went back to his office. Once he was locked in his office, he straightened up some paperwork. But inside he was seething, unable to stand the thought that Andre might hurt Mardy and cause Mardy to have a relapse. He growled and stood up, heading back to the general store. He spotted Andre talking to another customer and he walked up, not caring that he was interrupting. "You sick bastard," he snarled, grabbing Andre around the throat and slamming him against the wall. "You stay far, far away from Mardy, or else." "Or else what, Sheriff?" Andre asked, pushing Andy back a few steps but couldn't break Andy's hold on him. "Or else I'll hurt you. And trust me, Andre, when I say that I will take great pleasure in hurting you if you go anywhere near Mardy." With that he let the older man go and turned on his heel, stomping out of the store. He headed back to his office, hoping that he would be able to walk off his anger, but it didn't work, so he headed for the stables, climbing on his horse. He knew that she couldn't go fast, but he just needed to get away. He rode for a while, finally coming across a large cattle ranch. He stopped and slid off the horse, heading for the main house, stopping when he saw Bob or maybe it was Mike, coming towards him, covered in blood. "Hey there," he shouted, waving at the twin. The twin walked up and smiled. "Andy. I was just about to head in and clean up. What can I do for you?" "Nothing. I was just riding and noticed the house. I thought I'd swing by and say hi to whoever lived here." He smiled and waved at the other twin who was walking up to them. "Hey there." "Hi, Sheriff." Twin two smiled and looked at his brother. "Bob, James is ready for the heads, so whenever you're ready?" "What're you slaughtering?" Andy asked, looking over Bob's shoulder as Robby started walking towards them. "Hogs. You and Mardy wouldn't be interested in some meat, would you? We had too many sows to kill this year and it'll go to waste if we don't get rid of it." "I'm sure Mardy'd like that. When should I come by and pick it up?" Bob glanced at his brother then at Robby. They all seemed to communicate silently before Bob nodded and said, "Well, tomorrow, it should be ready to go if you wanna swing by in the morning?" "I can do that. Good seeing you boys again." Andy nodded at the other man, heading back for his horse. He climbed back on and waved goodbye, turning the horse back towards town. He smiled to himself as he went, not sure if he was shocked or not that they were so friendly. His brother's ranch was never run that easily, and they never gave away food, rarely even selling anything but live cows to ranchers up north. He sighed, heading back into town.He headed back to the general store and found his box of groceries, setting the money for them on the counter before going back to the house, glad that he hadn't had to face the older man. He got home, unpacking the groceries and putting them away before picking up the paper and heading into the living room where he sprawled on the couch to take a nap. Andy woke as the sun was going down and he blinked in the mid-dark, trying to get his bearings before calling out, "Mardy? You home?"No answer was forthcoming, so he pushed himself to a sitting position and grabbed his hat off the floor where it had fallen during his sleep. He sighed and stood up, straightening his clothes before going into the kitchen. He contemplated cooking for about half a second before turning on his heel and heading for Belle's Saloon. At least there he knew he could get food and a drink and he wouldn't have to worry about cleaning up. Once he arrived at Belle's, he grabbed a table, glancing around the nearly empty bar and waved to Mardy who immediately joined him. "Hungry?" Mardy asked, propping his feet up on the chair next to Andy. Andy smiled and took the drink Mardy offered him, nodding. "Yeah, thought you might be home to fix dinner, but since you weren't I figured I'd come here and make you cook for me." Mardy laughed and Andy smiled, happier than ever that Mardy had taken the job of bartender. "Yeah, well, I would've been home, but Belle got a letter and had to head out." "So, you're in charge of everything?" "Yep." Mardy glanced around, before leaning forward to whisper, "Belle might have to sell this place, but you can't say anything. The girls don't know and no one else is supposed to. Apparently, her daddy's real sick and since he lives up in Montana, she's thinking about moving in with him up there. Plus, she said she wants to be near her other family." Andy nodded, mind working overtime before he finally said, "Why don't you buy this place if she does sell? You could easily do the job and you like it here." "I couldn't afford it, even if I wanted to." "Yes, you could." Andy smiled and patted Mardy's hand. "Fishy, I could loan you the money you don't have, but I know you've got quite a bit saved up. Not to mention, I know what was in the Bible you insisted on taking from the McEnroes." Mardy flushed and glanced down at the table. "Maybe... I'll talk to Belle when she gets back and see what kind of price she's asking." "You should. And hey, it's not like I don't know where you live." Andy winked at him and settled back in his seat. "You wanna grab me something to eat?" "Certainly. Pan-fried steak is on the menu tonight. Mashed potatoes and gravy, biscuits and slaw and corn if you want it." "Damn, you've made a feast." Mardy grinned in response. "Sort of. I wanted to try a new recipe for the biscuits and the slaw, which is why they've been added. It was supposed to be just the steak, potatoes and corn." "Well, it all sounds good, so bring me a plate, will ya?" "Be right back," Mardy said, standing up and Andy watched him go into the kitchen. A short time later, Mardy returned, setting a plate in front of Andy just as the doors to the saloon opened up. Both men turned to the doors, staring at the blonde stranger, blue eyes apprehensive, hazel eyes curious."Hello. I was told that the Sheriff was here?" the man says, accent strange and unfamiliar. Mardy pointed to Andy, before he stepped forward. "Can I get you a drink?" "Please." The man turned to Andy and smiled. "Hello, Sheriff. I am Lleyton Hewitt. I was sent here by the telegraph home office." "Oh, yeah." Andy stood up and shook hands with Lleyton. "Andy Roddick. Please, have a seat. Hungry?" "Actually... yes. I've been traveling for weeks." "Did you come here from New York?" Andy asked, trying to place the accent. Lleyton laughed softly. "No. Well, yes, that's where the home office is, but I am originally from Australia." Andy just nodded, not entirely sure where that was, other than it wasn't near them. "After we get something to eat, I'll show you the office they intend you to use." He stopped talking as two men dressed in black entered the room. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the men both wearing guns, the taller of the two wearing a Kentucky rifle on his back, the shorter a Smith & Wesson Volcanic. He frowned, immediately knowing that the rifle was far too much firepower for innocent use, and the Volcanic wasn't a gun most men carried, though he'd been eyeing them in Andre's catalog for a while now. He reached down to unsnap his own Colt in preparation for whatever these two men might do. He glanced up as Mardy approached and noticed that Mardy was staring at the two men, downright fear in his eyes. "Fishy, you know these men?" he asked softly enough that his voice wouldn't carry. "Uhm. Yes." Mardy swallowed hard and set the glass he was carrying in front of Lleyton. "Former... uh... clients." "Oh," Andy said, eyes narrowing further as the men approached the bar. "Sit here with Lleyton." He pushed his plate of food towards the Australian and stood up. He walked around the bar and leaned against the counter. "What can I do for you boys?" he asked, forcing a smile. He knew the smile didn't reach his eyes, but there wasn't much he could do about that. The taller of the two glanced around, eyes skimming over Mardy with no recognition as the shorter one sat down. "Just came in for a drink. Two shots of whiskey and two beers, if you don't mind." "No problem." Andy grabbed the glasses needed and poured the men's drinks, smiling all the while. "What're you boys doing in this neck of the woods?" he asked, drawl more pronounced then he was used to, but he knew it was because he was trying to remain friendly and not draw down on the two strangers. "Actually, mister, you might be of some help. We're looking for Andy Roddick." "Oh really?" Andy said, trying not to laugh. "And what would you be looking for the Sheriff for?" "Well, see, me and my friend here are looking for revenge. He shot and killed a good friend of ours by the name of Henman." Andy's eyes flared in recognition of the man who'd killed his brother and his smile grew slowly. "Oh really? Yeah, I think I recognize the name." The taller one turned slowly, eyes narrowing. "Roddick," he snarled, reaching for his rifle. Andy had his gun out and pointed in the shorter man's face. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mirnyi. Bjorkman, put the revolver on the bar." When neither man moved, Andy barked, "NOW!" Bjorkman slowly drew the gun and slid it across the bar. "Damn you, Roddick." Smirking now, Andy gestured to Mirnyi. "Set the rifle on the counter, slowly." Mirnyi scowled, but did as he was told, laying the rifle down. Andy scooped up the revolver and slid it into his holster, then settled the rifle on his shoulder. "Jonas Bjorkman and Max Mirnyi, you're under arrest for the murder of John Roddick, Jim Connors, and Bjorn Borg." He slowly walked around the bar and nodded to Mardy and Lleyton. "Be right back, Lleyton. Fishy, get me a plate of food, will ya? I'm still hungry." And he proceeded to take the two men to the jail, locking them in. He locked the guns in a gun safe behind his desk, eyes still on the two men. "You both should know that I'm really very tempted to just kill you now. You killed my brother." "Henman killed him," Max said with a scowl. "But you were there and you didn't stop Tim." Andy shrugged. "In my eyes, that makes you as guilty as Henman. Now, I'm gonna leave you boys locked up in here, because I know that you can't get out. You can and probably will try, but it's useless. And I'm going to contact the Texas Rangers and have them come deal with you boys." He turned and walked out, listening to the two outlaws banging on the bars and then they fell silent and Andy just knew they were trying to pry the bars open. He shook his head and went back to the saloon. He took off his hat, setting it in one of the empty chairs at the table before straddling the chair across from Lleyton. "Fishy, where's my food?" he asked, when he didn't see Mardy anywhere. Lleyton blinked at him. "Fishy?" "It's what I call Mardy. He's the bartender here." "Ah. I see." Lleyton smiled slightly and gestured to the door. "Does that usually happen?" "I've killed a lot of bad guys in my time." Andy grinned. "I used to be a Texas Ranger, and as a result, I have a lot of enemies. Those two killed my big brother, along with a man I killed when I was younger. He had actually pulled the trigger, but those two were there and helped to kill other Rangers." "You used to be a Ranger? Why'd you give it up?" Andy frowned slightly, but answered, "My brother was killed in the line of duty. After that, I just didn't have the same fire for it." He shrugged and glanced up as Mardy set a plate in front of him. "Thanks, Fishy." Mardy smiled and put his hand on Andy's shoulder, looking down at Andy with a look of affection in his eyes. "Anytime, Andy." With a soft laugh, Andy dug into his food, talking to Lleyton about the town and who everyone was until he had cleared his plate. He stood up, tossing some money on the table before turning to Mardy. "I'll be home in a while, if you're heading that way." "Actually, Belle asked me to stay here while she's out of town, just in case. So..." "You want me to swing by with some clothes for you?" Mardy nodded, touching Andy's shoulder again. "Thanks." "Not a problem," Andy said, winking as he picked up his hat and settled it on his head. Mardy flicked the brim before he picked up the dirty dishes and glasses and headed for the kitchen. Andy smiled and led Lleyton outside and down the main road. "So, why'd you want to come to Texas?" he asked after a lengthy pause. "Space. In Australia, I lived on a farm with my family and all we had was space. When I was growing up, I hated it, but when I finally moved into the city, I found I hated being confined like that even more. People practically on top of one another, no fresh air to breathe, the stench... the city's just not for me." Lleyton smiled and glanced back at the saloon. "Are you and Mardy... lovers?" Andy laughed, shaking his head. "No. I love him, but like a brother. We live together because... well, he's got a past and doesn't usually want to be alone." "Ah." Lleyton nodded as they neared the building that was to become the telegraph office. "Mr. Sampras said my things would be right behind me." "Pete? You came in on the stage?" "Yes." "Okay. Yeah, usually if you've got a lot, it takes a couple more days to reach us here. Luckily, there's a bed in the rooms above the office, so if you want to stay here, you're welcome to. Or Belle rents rooms at the saloon." "Belle?" "She owns the place." "A woman owns a business?" Andy grinned and opened the door to the building, gesturing for Lleyton to go in first. "Well, here, things are a mite different from the city. We don't care so much about women owning businesses, as long as they don't hurt anyone while doing it. And before you find out from someone else, the saloon is also a whorehouse. Belle's good to her girls though." "Is Mardy... is he a whore?" Lleyton asked, looking around the office, thereby missing the look of anger that flashed through Andy's eyes."No," he said, sounding curter than he'd intended, but he knew that there would never come a day when he could be casual about Mardy having been a whore. He'd lay down his life to protect Mardy and would go anywhere if it made Mardy happy. Lleyton blinked at him, and then nodded. "This will do nicely. Thank you, Sheriff." "You're welcome." Andy shook himself, trying to get rid of his bad mood. "Sorry, just... tired. It's been a long day." He slipped off his hat, thumping it against his thigh. "So, here's the thing. I don't think there's any heat in this place, and you'd probably need to clean up the rooms upstairs before they're livable. So, why don't I show you the rest of the town-- what there is of it, at any rate, and then I'll take you back to the hotel and you can sleep there for tonight. I'll come over tomorrow and help you clean up." "Actually, that does sound good." Lleyton smiled. "Thank you for all of your help, Sheriff." "Andy's fine." Andy patted his back, and then they left, closing the door behind them. "Remind me to get you the key from my office," he said as they headed down the street. Andy pointed out the stables, which were empty save his old nag, and the blacksmith building, which was also currently empty. Then he gestured behind them pointing out his office and what should be the doctor's office, though there was no doctor in residence he let Lleyton know, and last, the general store. "Andre Agassi, the man who runs the general store, he's not real nice. I mean, he's not like a horrible person or anything, but he's just kind of creepy. So, if I were you, I'd stay away from him as much as possible." He glanced around, noting they were almost to his and Mardy's house. "And that's pretty much the town. Not much here, but the people are friendly and everyone takes care of everyone else. I may be the law, but with the exception of breaking up a few fights at the saloon every week, there's really not a high demand for me." "And there are farms all over the countryside. Ranches, too, for that matter. You'll gradually get to meet everyone. Folks'll be stopping by, more often then not, just to say howdy and introduce themselves." "How long have you been here?" Lleyton asked as Andy let them into the house. "About... Oh, I'd say two or three months. Not that long really, but, like I said, people are friendly." Andy grinned and headed up the stairs to Mardy's room, packing a few of his things in a bag before jogging back down. He noticed Lleyton looking around the nearly empty room and he cleared his throat. Lleyton jumped. "Sorry, Sheriff... I just... it's kind of empty." "Yeah. Mardy and I didn't have a whole lot when we came here. Part of that is the... Mardy's past. And being a Ranger doesn't allow you to cart around a life with you, so we pretty much came here with the shirts on our backs and that's about it." Andy smiled. "Do you have a lot of things coming on the wagon?" "Actually, no. Most of what's coming is the telegraph machine and set up. Mostly some clothes and a few pictures are all that I'll have personally." "It's easier coming out west without anything really dragging you down." Andy hefted the small bag over his shoulder and together they proceeded back to the hotel. They walked in silence, just enjoying the night before Andy spoke again. "You asked earlier about Mardy and me. So, I'm going to turn the tables. Do you have a lover?" "No. I had... I was engaged in New York, but when I was offered this position, I asked her to come with and she refused. She didn't want to live in the Wild West, she said." Lleyton shrugged, obviously trying not to sound hurt.Andy nodded slowly. "So, you like women?" "Yes." "Okay. Just checking... I didn't-- or rather wouldn't-- want you hitting on Mardy. He's... fragile." "Okay. I promise, I won't hit on him." Lleyton grinned at Andy as they walked up the steps to the saloon. Andy laughed softly and pushed his way in, waving at the girls before ducking his head into the kitchen. "Mardy, I got you some clothes and Lleyton's gonna need a room for the night." "No problem," Mardy said, taking the bag and setting it just inside the kitchen door. He hugged Andy lightly, before taking care of Lleyton. Andy sat down at the bar and watched his friend work and he couldn't help but smile at how well-adjusted Mardy seemed to be doing. This job was definitely what he'd needed to make a go of things. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Mardy had just settled in for the night, when he heard the door to the kitchen open up. Frowning, he pulled his gun from his bag-- Andy had made sure he knew how to use it and was able to hit what he aimed for every time-- and crawled out of bed. Stumbling out in just his long johns, he headed into the main room, stopping short at the sight of Belle. "Belle? I thought you were leaving?" "I just had to go to Austin, honey. I hadn't planned on coming back tonight, but I managed to catch the late stage." She took a deep breath and smiled. "Honey, I need to talk to you." "C'mon, Belle," Mardy said, gesturing to the room off the kitchen that he'd claimed as his. He sat on the edge of the bed, startled when she sat next to him and buried her face against his neck. He froze, unsure of what to do as wet drops hit his skin. "Belle?" After several minutes, she pulled back, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to cry all over you." She took several deep breaths, exhaling slowly after each one. "My family member is real sick and I need to leave Bluebonnet." "I'm sorry to hear that." Mardy hugged her lightly, frowning when her arms encircled his waist. "What... what are you going to do about the saloon?""I guess I have to sell it." She shrugged, pulling back again. Tilting her head to the side, she looked Mardy over, and then reached out slowly, touching his cheek. "Hon, are you drunk?" Mardy blushed, then nodded slightly. "I'm sorry... I just... it's the only way I can sleep at night." "Oh hon." She sighed and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Why don't you come on up to my room? This bed is far too small." "For what?" Mardy asked, blinking at her. She smiled mysteriously and pulled Mardy up and behind her. Once they were in her room, Belle undressed slowly and Mardy's eyes widened as he realized what Belle's intentions were. "I'm gay," he said, swallowing hard. "Hon, you don't have to be straight for this. You just have to close your eyes." Mardy did as he was told and let Belle have her way with him. Mardy awoke the next morning, head pounding and mouth dry. He blinked, staring around the unfamiliar room and shook his head, noticing someone on the bed next to him. That jolted him all the way awake and he nearly fell out of bed, trying to get away from his bed partner. He stared at Belle, eyes clownishly wide. "Oh God, what have I done?!" he said, hand coming up to cover his mouth.Belle stirred, eyes opening slowly to blink at him. "G'morning, hon." "Oh God, oh God, oh God!" He curled up in a ball, shaking and rocking back and forth. "Oh God, what have I done?" Belle frowned and slid off the bed, wrapping her arms around Mardy and holding him close. "Honey, you didn't do anything wrong. We just had sex. It's not a crime. I promise you, no one ever has to know. Just you and me, I promise." She stroked her hand over Mardy's hair as he started to calm down. "I'll never tell a soul, honey, I swear to you on all I hold dear." Mardy took several deep, calming breaths before pulling back and looking up at her worriedly. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" "No, honey, you didn't." She kissed his forehead and smiled slightly. "Now, you better get to your room before the Sheriff comes looking for you." Mardy nodded and stood up, tugging his long johns on. He started for the door, stopping before he opened it. "Belle, if you have to sell the place, do you think I could buy it?" "Of course, honey. Why don't we sit down over breakfast and discuss the price?" Mardy nodded, forcing a smile as he looked over his shoulder at her. "Thank you." She winked at him and stood, grabbing her robe to cover herself as she walked towards him. "You go on back to your room, honey. And you might want to wash up, so your Andy doesn't smell me on you." Mardy blushed at that and hurried downstairs where he washed up quickly before going into the kitchen to make breakfast. He was almost done cooking the eggs, potatoes, and ham when two of Belle's girls walked into the kitchen. He smiled at them for probably the first time since he'd started working for Belle and asked, "Would you like some breakfast?" They both stared wide-eyed at him, and then the older of the two nodded. "Thank you, Mardy." He nodded back and fixed two plates before saying, "If any of the other girls are hungry, just send 'em in and I'll fix 'em a plate." "We will," the older girl said before pulling the younger one out of the room. Mardy smiled happily to himself and fixed a plate for himself and for Belle, then several more as the rest of the girls came in to see if the first two had been telling the truth that Mardy was being nice to them. He carried his and Belle's plate out to the main room and set them at a table as Belle sat down across from him. Within the hour, they had an agreement all worked out. Mardy would buy the building and the business and he'd continue to let the girls work for him. He wasn't too happy about having the whores working for him, but he knew that at least he'd be better for them than his keeper had ever been for him. He finished his breakfast, and then cleaned up the dishes before going across the street to talk to Andy. "Andy!" Andy blinked and looked up at Mardy, smiling. "What's up, Fishy?" "I'm buying the saloon from Belle. She's got to leave and she agreed to sell it to me." He bounced in place, grinning at Andy. "I have to keep the whores on, 'cause I promised Belle, but I think it'll be okay. At least I know they won't get hurt when I'm around." Andy nodded and stood up, hugging Mardy. "I'm happy for you, Fishy. Do you need help buying it?" "No. She's going to keep my last week's pay and I'm going to give her another four hundred dollars and she said that'd cover the cost." "Really?" Andy smiled and hugged Mardy harder. "Good for you, Fishy. You've got that much?" "Yeah, I've got like three times that from... well, from before. So, it's not a problem at all. And I know the Blue Belle runs at a pretty high profit, so I'll be okay. I'm just... I'm so happy. I finally have a place that's mine." Raising an eyebrow, Andy pulled back and just looked at Mardy. "What about our place?" "I love our house, but... I mean some place where I can work that's mine. That's not... tainted in some way." Andy nodded slowly. "I guess I can understand that." He hugged Mardy again and gestured to the sleeping men in the cell. "Think I could get you to bring me some food for these assholes? The Rangers'll be here in a day or two, but I guess I shouldn't really let them starve." "I can bring you breakfast too," Mardy said, smiling almost shyly at Andy. He leaned forward and kissed Andy. "Thank you for all you've done for me, Andy. I wouldn't have made it if it weren't for you." Andy smiled and cupped Mardy's cheek in his hand, stroking the smooth flesh with his thumb. "For you, Fishy? I'd do anything that you could ever ask of me." Mardy blushed and embraced Andy, placing another, softer kiss on Andy's cheek. "Thanks. I'll go grab your breakfast. Any request on theirs?" "Maybe just something simple." "I'll bring you some eggs, bacon and fried potatoes. How 'bout just some potatoes for them?" "Sounds good." Andy walked around the desk, and then smacked his palm against his forehead. "Almost forgot. The Bryans offered us some meat from their slaughter. I'm supposed to go by today to pick it up, but I also offered to help Lleyton clean up the telegraph office." Mardy smiled, laughing softly. "I'll help Lleyton. And don't forget to thank the twins." "I won't." Andy sat down and winked up at Mardy, who laughed again and left. He went back to the bar, fixing more potatoes and pouring coffee into a container, setting two plates of potatoes on a tray, then filling a plate with bacon, eggs and potatoes, pouring a glass of milk from the jug and setting a coffee mug on the tray as well. He carried the whole lot over to the Sheriff's office and let himself in. Andy was standing in front of the cell, so Mardy set the tray on Andy's desk and backed out of the office. He walked down the road, waving at Robby as the former bartender headed towards him. "How's it going, Mardy? You enjoying working for Belle?" "I am actually. I wasn't sure I'd like the job, but I do." "Yeah, it's a good job." "So, why'd you leave?" Robby laughed softly. "Because Mike and Bob needed more hands out at the ranch. James and I aren't just their lovers. We're their partners. So, we should do our share. At least that's what James has convinced me of." He shook his head and sighed. "Heard we're getting the telegraph office in for sure?" "Yeah, the guy who's gonna run it just arrived yesterday. Nice guy. In fact, I'm heading that way to help him set up the office." Robby nodded and glanced behind Mardy. "I have to go to the general store and see if Andre got our order of salt in. Is Andy coming out to the ranch to pick up your side of pig?" "Yeah. He's dealing with a couple of prisoners right now, but I'm sure he'll be out soon." They both turned at the sound of footsteps approaching and Robby smiled, while Mardy tried to still his racing heart. He knew rationally that the McEnroes were no longer a real threat to him, but he hated having people coming up behind him in any capacity, which was why he was normally so short with the girls at the saloon. They had a bad habit of sneaking up behind him and it never failed to scare him. "Belle," both men said at the same time. Belle smiled broadly and patted Robby's cheek. "Hey, darlin'. How're you enjoying life on the ranch?" Robby grinned and repeated his answer that he'd given Mardy. Belle smiled and turned to Mardy. "Hon, if it'd be at all possible, I'd like to leave by this afternoon. I know Pete's coming through at about noon, so..." Mardy nodded. "I'll bring the money by as soon as I can. I just have to run home and get it for you." "That'd be good." She winked at Mardy, then turned to Robby. "Be a gentleman, darlin' and walk me to the general store?" Robby nodded and took her arm, leading her away. As they got farther away, Mardy heard Robby ask, "Where exactly are you going and why is he giving you money?" Mardy smiled, almost bouncing down the street. He finally had a place to call his own and he was excited about running his own business. Every step he took towards making the Blue Belle his was a step closer to becoming a normal person. He smiled broadly, knowing he probably looked like an idiot, but he couldn't help himself. He loved this feeling of freedom, even though part of him did want to cringe inside at what he'd done with Belle, but in a way, even that had made him freer. He'd had sex and it hadn't hurt and he hadn't hurt anyone. He unlocked their house and took the steps two at a time, digging out the old hollowed-out Bible he'd had with him since he started working for the McEnroes. He'd hid what little money they'd given him, storing it up for when he could finally escape their clutches and he had well over two thousand dollars tucked away inside. Even if the bar didn't profit much once Belle left, Mardy knew he'd be okay. He and Andy owned their house, free and clear and Belle was selling him the bar so he'd have that building if worse ever came to worst. Not that he was expecting the worst. No, for once in his life, he was actually looking forward to the next day and what it might bring. Once he'd counted out the money for Belle, he headed back into town. He found Belle coming out of the telegraph office, talking to Lleyton. He walked up, tucking his hand into Belle's. "Lleyton. How's it going this morning? Did you get breakfast?" "One of the girls fixed me a plate, thank you." Lleyton smiled back at Mardy. "I understand that it was you who cooked it. You're a very good cook." "Thank you." Mardy blushed slightly, though his face lit up at the praise. "I don't know if Andy's had a chance to come by yet, but he's got to go out to the Bryan's ranch and pick up something. I'll be by to help you out in just a few minutes." "All right. That sounds good to me," Lleyton said, patting Mardy on his shoulder. "Thank you for the welcome, Belle, and I hope that your family is going to be okay." "Thanks, sweetheart." Belle waved as Mardy and she walked down the road to the saloon. "I really appreciate you gettin' the money together so quickly, Mardy. It'll definitely go a long way to helpin' me." "It's no problem. Are you sure this is enough? I can get more..." "It's more than enough, honey. I bought the place for half what you're buying it for and the only reason I'm charging you as much as I am is because I know what a thriving business it is." Mardy nodded, kissing her cheek. "I'd pay more if you want." "No, hon. This is gonna be more than enough." Belle smiled at him and gave him a hug. He handed over the money and she slipped it into her drawstring purse. "You be careful, hon. And... let Andy help you." "I will. Thank you for everything, Belle. I can't tell you how much your help has meant to me." Belle smiled and headed into the saloon. "I've told the girls and they're all aware of the change in ownership. You'll protect them?" "You bet." Mardy watched her go in and turned to see Andy watching him from the doorway of the Sheriff's office. He waved to Andy, before he went back to the telegraph office to help Lleyton out. Andy watched Mardy practically bouncing down the street and he smiled, glad for his friend, but he wanted to talk to Belle before she took off. He went across the street, pushing through the doors. He shook off the girls that tried to flirt with him and jogged lightly up the stairs, knocking on Belle's bedroom door. "Belle? Can I come in?""Sure thing, Sheriff." Andy let himself in and watched her pack more dresses into her satchels. "You're leaving today?" "Just after noon when Pete comes through. Is there a problem, Sheriff?" Andy opened his mouth, and then changed his mind, shaking his head. "No. Just... Mardy seems awful chipper this mornin'." "He's happy, I think, to have his own business." Belle looked up and smiled slightly. "Andy, he's slowly getting better. Give him time and just keep doin' what you've been doin'. You're helping him a lot." Andy smiled and nodded. "Thanks. And, whatever's wrong? I hope you're going to be okay." "I will be. I'm just worried about my family. I'm sure they'll be fine, but... I'll drop you and Mardy a line when I get where I'm goin'." "Sounds good. We'll look forward to hearing from you." Andy hugged her lightly and kissed her cheek. "If I can, I'm going to convince Mardy to get rid of the girls." Belle smiled slowly. "He won't do it. He's starting to look at himself as their protector. He'll do what he thinks is right to keep those girls safe from any harm, and right now, and probably for the next few years, he'll think it's best to keep them here with him because he won't let them be hurt by anyone." Andy sighed. "How do you know?" "I've seen abused whores before, Andy. Hell, I was one. I got out. You got him out, and in a way, that's hindered his getting better. But now he'll see himself as their saviour, the way you were his. Let him see himself that way for a while. When he's truly ready to be healed, he'll let them go." Andy nodded. "Thank you, Belle. You're a damn fine woman." Belle winked and finished packing her clothes. "Damn straight, I am," she said with a smile as she snapped her satchel shut. "Now, you should go find someone for yourself. You can't protect him for forever, Andy. You need someone." "In good time. Right now, I don't think I could touch anyone without seeing Mardy... he offered himself to me once. Or... I bought time with him, but I didn't want sex. I wanted to protect him. He was... is beautiful and yeah, when I first saw him I wanted him. But then I saw him being abused and all I wanted was to protect him. I fixed his shoulder-- popped it back into place and offered to take him away from them. At first, he was reluctant, but then his keeper... he was so injured when I rescued him. I didn't think he'd ever stop flinching away from me. He did, just 'bout the time we reached Bluebonnet. He likes it here, feels safe. We both knew when we came over the hill that we were home." Andy sniffled, eyes filling. "I just need to be there for him until he can do it all on his own." Belle smiled and hugged him. "Then you just keep doin' what you're doin', darlin'. Because no matter what you think, you are doin' right by him. He's gettin' better and that's thanks to you." Andy nodded against her shoulder, taking a few deep breaths before pulling back. "I just wish... I wish I could do more." "Any more and you'd be pushin' him too far, too fast. The way you're goin' now is good for him. Let him take the healin' at his pace, not yours. In the long run, it'll be better for both of you." She leaned in, kissing his cheek. "Good luck to you, Sheriff. Stay safe." "I will. Thank you, Belle." Andy smiled once more, before heading back to his office to check on his prisoners before making his way out to the Bryan's ranch to pick up the side of meat they'd offered him and Mardy. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Two days passed and Andy was getting restless having the two outlaws that had killed his brother and his fellow Rangers in his custody. There was no sign of the Rangers who were supposed to be coming to pick up Mirnyi and Bjorkman. Andy had even tried the new telegraph system and had been told only that the Rangers were on their way and he should keep the outlaws locked up. He sighed and shuffled some papers around, looking up when the door to his office opened up. One of Mardy's girls-- though privately, Andy still thought of them as Belle's and probably would for a while longer-- came in, carrying a tray of food. "Mardy asked me to bring this by," she said, smiling sweetly at him. Andy nodded his thanks and took the tray, glancing at it and smiling at the fact that there was three plates of beans on the tray, but one of the plates actually pork in it and a slice of cornbread. "Thank you, Amelie." She smiled and nodded, leaving him alone with his prisoners."Wake up, boys!" he yelled, enjoying the sight of them jumping out of their cots. "Food's here." "Is that pork and beans and cornbread I smell?" Bjorkman asked, trying to see the tray from his cell. "As a matter of fact, it is." Andy smirked and set his plate on his desk and put the tray aside. "And as soon as I'm done eating my pork and beans and cornbread, drinking my milk and coffee, you'll get your food." He sat down and poured himself a mug full of milk and one of coffee, then said grace quickly. He dug in, trying not to gloat too much that his prisoners were cursing him out. They should know by now, in Andy's opinion, that no matter what Mardy fixed for food, they'd get theirs when it was cold and almost inedible. And instead of the delicious milk and hot coffee Andy had with every meal, they were lucky if they got clean water. He finished his plate off quickly, almost tempted to go get seconds, but instead, he took his time finishing his milk and coffee. Once every last drop of liquid was gone, he picked up their plates and carried them over to the cells. He handed the plates through, one at a time and laughed when Bjorkman and Mirnyi both swore at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, boys. Were you expecting that fine meal I just had?" He settled back in his chair, tipping it backwards before tilting his hat over his eyes while the two prisoners ate and grumbled at him.He was just about asleep when the door opened up. He drew his gun discreetly and had it pointed at whoever had walked through the door before he tipped his hat back. "Can I help you?" he asked the three men towering in the doorway. He took stock of the three intruders, noting that they were all familiar-- familiar enough that he knew their names. "Murray, Keifer, Spadea. How nice of you to drop by to visit old friends," he said calmly, even though all three had their revolvers pointed at him. "We've come to get Bjorkman and Mirnyi out of jail, Roddick. We don't want to kill you, but we will if you try to stop us," Murray said. "Oh, you can try, but I'm betting good money I can take out most of you before you kill me." Andy set his chair upright, gun still pointed. "So, why don't the three of you just drop your weapons and I won't have to kill you." Murray snorted and shook his head. "No chance, Roddick. There's three of us and only one of you. I think we're the better off here.""Well, now, normally, that'd be the case. But the way I see it, I'm the Ranger you've all feared for the last year or so. And maybe I ain't a Ranger no more, but that don't mean I've lost any of my skill." Andy stood up, tucking his thumb through the belt loop of his pants and standing almost nonchalantly in front of the three outlaws. "Don't you boys know that the bad guys always die in the end?" Then two things happened at once. Murray shifted just slightly and a gun went off. Murray then fell dead to the floor. Andy raised an eyebrow and turned to the other two. "Now, how's that for a good shot? I didn't even pull the trigger." The other two outlaws dropped their guns and raised their hands above their heads, ignoring the calls of cowards from the cell behind Andy. Andy tilted his head just slightly, smiling as he saw Mardy coming up the walk. "Saw them coming in," Mardy said softly, eyes focused on the dead man. "Knew they were part of Henman's gang after you showed me their wanted posters. Figured you could use a hand." "Good shot, Fishy." Andy stepped forward, pushing Spadea and Keifer to the cells. "Climb on in with your buddies, boys. Gettin' a mite crowded in there, but that just can't be helped." He smiled and turned to Mardy. "You okay?" Mardy swallowed hard, still looking at Murray. "Yeah, I guess. Never actually killed a man before." Andy nodded and kneeled next to the dead body, checking for a pulse even though Mardy's shot was clear through the young man's forehead. "Not really a man, even though he ran with the outlaws," Andy said softly. He shook his head and glanced behind him. "See, boys, this is what happens when you come up against me. Your people die." Andy shrugged and looked up at Mardy. "Can you help me carry him over to Andre's?""Sure thing." Mardy helped him heft the body up and together they carried it down the street to the general store. Andre acted as undertaker when they actually had dead bodies, which thankfully wasn't often. Andy went inside and explained what had happened, then left before Andre could piss him off too badly. He found Mardy sitting outside his office, shoulders shaking. "Mardy? You did good. He probably would've tried to kill me if you hadn't gotten him first." "He was a child, Andy," Mardy said softly, shaking his head. "I killed him!" "Regardless of his age, he was trying to kill me. He would've drawn on me, hell he already had his gun out, Fishy. They'd come into my office intending to murder me, just so they could get their friends free." Andy sat next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "You did good." "I guess you're right, but... it's just so horrible," Mardy said. Andy sighed and held him close. "Maybe, but it's the way of the West. Kill or be killed." "Did you learn that as a Ranger?" Mardy asked, leaning heavily on Andy."Actually, I learned that when my brother died. Until then, I truly believed that the good guys always win and the bad guys always die. There was no one better than Johnny in heart and spirit, so I knew he shouldn't have died that day." Andy took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "But in a way, I know that that's the day that changed my life." "How do you figure?" "Well, that's the day I started questioning why I was a Ranger. I didn't want to do it anymore. That is how I ended up in Austin and in the McEnroe place." He smiled and kissed the side of Mardy's head. "And, if I hadn't ended up there, we never would've met and we wouldn't be here in Bluebonnet." Mardy nodded and snuggled close to Andy. "I guess you're right. In a way, I feel like I should thank your brother. He sent you to me when I needed you most." Andy smiled and nodded. "That he did. He always was an angel, guess now he's our guardian angel." Mardy chuckled and then sighed. "Yeah." They both fell silent, just staring down the road of their town, breathing the fresh air and balmy breeze. The next morning dawned bright and shiny and Andy woke early. He headed downstairs to fix himself some breakfast before heading into town.Once he was there, he stopped short at the commotion in front of his office. "What the hell is going on?" he yelled as he ran down the street. Mardy was arguing with two men who both had their guns out, but the guns weren't pointed at Mardy, so Andy didn't bother to draw his. Even with their advantage, Andy knew he could kill them before they could aim, so he wasn't really that worried. Mardy turned, eyes blazing. "These men claim they're Rangers, but they don't have their stars! So, I wouldn't let them take the prisoners and they're threatening to lock me up!" Finally, Andy was by their side and he glanced at the Rangers before patting Mardy on the back. "I'll take it from here," he said softly, pushing Mardy towards the saloon. "And they won't be arresting you." He turned to the Rangers, eyes narrowed. "Now, Mardy probably don't know that you don't have to have a badge to be a Ranger, but I've never seen you two before." "And who are you?" Andy laughed softly at that. "Andy Roddick." "Oh." The brunette eyeballed him. "You're smaller than I thought you'd be," he said finally giving a small shrug, before glancing over at his blonde partner. "I am Mikhail Youzhny. Mischa to my friends." "Youzhny... your brother, Andrei, rode with my brother." "Yes." Mikhail frowned slightly. "He was with your brother when your brother was killed." "Andrei was the only one to live," Andy said with a slight scowl marring his face."Yes." Andy raised an eyebrow and turned to the other man. "And you? Who are you? 'Cause while I believe he might've followed in his brother's footsteps, I know I don't know you." "Dmitry Tursunov." Andy shook his head. "Don't recognize the name." "No reason you should." "Dima here is relatively new to being a Ranger. This is only his third mission." Andy rolled his eyes. "Okay." He paused and smiled crookedly. "Let me see your guns." "Excuse me?" Mikhail said, eyes narrowing. "If you're really Rangers, let me see your guns. I'm the law in this town and I know the Rangers inside and out." Mikhail shook his head. "We're not handing over our guns." Before the words were completely out of his mouth, Andy had his gun drawn and cocked and pointed between Mikhail's eyes. "Well, the way I see it is, you don't really have a choice here." He cocked one eyebrow and smirked. "And, if your buddy here goes for his gun, I fire. I might be killed, but so will you." Dmitry held out his gun. "Here. My gun. We are Rangers." Mikhail glared at him and said, "What are you doing? You never hand your gun over to a stranger! What if this isn't Roddick?" "It is. I've seen the pictures of him, standing over Henman's body." Dmitry shook his gun, holding it by the barrel towards Andy. "Please. Take my gun. You can tell I'm a Ranger." Andy considered that and took the gun from the blonde, inspecting it carefully. He nodded, lowering his arm and handing Dmitry back his weapon. "I'd still like to see your gun, Mikhail." "No." With a sigh, Andy flipped the gun over, holding it out so that the butt was facing Mikhail. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." Mikhail smiled slightly at that. "We'll trade." "Fair enough." Andy took Mikhail's gun at the same time as Mikhail took his. They both looked over each other's Colts before handing them back. "Nice gun." "Yours is older. How long were you a Ranger?" "Couple of years. My gun was from the old style before they switched to the weapons you both carry. Just out of curiosity, do you carry knives?" Dmitry pulled his from the sheath under his arm and Andy nodded. "Good. Because a gun's all well and good, but sometimes, you need something a little more up close and personal." Andy smiled. "It's nice to meet both of you. What's gonna happen to my prisoners?" Mikhail gestured to the office. "Shall we go inside?" "Actually, why don't we go to the saloon?" Andy led the way, not waiting for their response. He opened the door, gesturing for the two Rangers to go ahead of him. They sat at one of the tables while Andy walked up to the bar and leaned across. "Fishy? They're Rangers. Just haven't been in the game long enough to have badges." "How can you know for sure?" Mardy asked, eyeing the men suspiciously."Their guns. Rangers are the only ones who carry those particular guns." Andy patted his gun in its holster on his hip and smiled. "Though they don't take 'em away when you leave. But the brunette's brother is the lone survivor from the attack on my brother." "Oh. You want drinks?" "Just coffee. Wouldn't want these boys getting drunk before it's even noon." Andy winked and headed back to the table, sitting across from Mikhail. "Mardy'll bring us some coffee." Both Rangers nodded, and then Dmitry spoke. "They will be tried in Austin for their crimes and probably hanged." "I've also got two of Bjorkman and Mirnyi's gang." "Murray?" Mikhail asked, leaning forward. Andy tilted his head. "No. Actually, he was killed." "By you?" "No." Andy just stared at the other man, waiting until Mikhail nodded. "Spadea and Keifer are in the cell with Bjorkman and Mirnyi." "Really?" Dmitry looked impressed and Andy couldn't help but grin."Really." "So... can I ask you something?" Dmitry asked, chewing on his lower lip."Go ahead." Andy glanced up when Mardy set three cups of coffee in front of them. He turned without saying a word and walked back behind the bar, which Andy found a bit odd, but he knew that sometimes Mardy just didn't do well around strangers. "Are you really as good as people say you are?" Andy smiled. "Yes." "Just yes? No qualifications?" Mikhail asked, picking up his coffee and sipping at it. "Just yes," Andy answered with a smile."How do you know you're as good as the stories say?" "Because I know I'm that good. Besides, I'm alive and they ain't." Andy was still smiling, but some of the light had gone out of his eyes and he knew they'd grown darker. "Don't forget that I'm the man who brought down the Frenchmen." "Yeah, but you had help, didn't you?" Dmitry asked, tilting his head to the side. "No. I was alone on that raid. Benneteau and Monfils had killed my partner." "And you killed all of them," Mikhail said softly. "I never believed that story, until your brother told mine it was true. John was so proud of you for that." Andy looked down at his cup, expression hardening. "He's about the only one." "I'm sorry. We won't discuss your brother." "Thank you." Andy glanced over at the bar, not surprised to see Mardy watching them carefully. "So will all four be tried at the same time?" "Well, as far as we know Spadea and Keifer aren't wanted for any crimes." "They were there!" Andy shouted suddenly. "Those bastards helped to kill my brother!" "Maybe that's so," Mikhail said softly, "but there's no warrant for them. Only for Bjorkman and Mirnyi. They're who we're here to pick up, not the other two." Andy scowled and shook his head. "I should've killed 'em as soon as I saw them." "You'd have done all of us a favour," Mikhail said, meeting Andy's gaze. He smiled slightly, then turned to Dmitry. "Why don't you go across and keep an eye on the four outlaws?" Dmitry raised an eyebrow, but headed out of the bar. Andy narrowed his eyes at Mikhail. "What's going on?" "Do you have somewhere where we can talk privately?" Andy nodded and stood up, tossing a few bills on the table. "Mardy, I'll be back for lunch, consider this part of that tab." "No problem, Andy." Andy led Mikhail down the street to his and Mardy's house. "Can't get more private than my own home." "No, I guess we can't." Mikhail looked around the room, and then turned to face Andy. "I asked for privacy, because if you'd like, we can try all four men here. Dmitry and I have the power to convict them all." Andy nodded. "I know this. That's why I don't get why you were being so..." "I'm not entirely sure of Dmitry's ideals." "Then why the hell did you let him go to the jail alone?" "Not in that way. I'm not sure he understands a Ranger's... position in life. We are the ultimate law here and I don't think he understands that yet. He's only been a Ranger for four months." "That explains a bit. So, you'd be willing to try them here?" "Happily. Andrei may have survived their attack physically, but... he was never the same afterwards. He always acted... well, scared. It was... unnerving to see my brother like that." Andy nodded. "I'd heard he'd quit because his nerves couldn't take it anymore." "That's a lenient description." Mikhail sighed. "May I sit?" "Yeah." Andy sat down and Mikhail sat next to him.Mikhail looked at him, before he leaned in, kissing Andy. Andy pulled back, eyes wide. "What are you doing?" "Kissing you." "Well, yeah, but why?" "Because I want you." "Oh." Andy flushed and let Mikhail kiss him again. He moaned softly into the kiss and pulled the Ranger on top of his body, grinding up against him. Mikhail groaned and ground back against Andy. Andy pushed him back, then stood up and dragged Mikhail up to his room, closing the door behind them. An hour later, Andy and Mikhail head back to town, not touching, hardly even looking at one another. Finally the silence got to Mikhail. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.Andy nodded. "Just... been a while since I did that." "Why?""Because of Fishy. He's not comfortable with that... and before that I was always on the move, only using whores." Andy shrugged. "Thank you though. I think I needed it to continue moving forward." Mikhail smiled. "Glad I could be of service. Now, let's go hang some outlaws." Andy grinned back at him and they headed to the Sheriff's office. Andy swore as he opened the door and spotted Dmitry unconscious on the floor of one of the cells. "Goddammit!" He lifted his keys off his waist and unlocked the cell, checking for a pulse before looking over his shoulder at Mikhail. "How'd they get out?" "I let them out," a man said from behind them. Andy turned, glaring at the man behind them. Mikhail let out a gasp and shook his head as if trying to clear his vision. "Andrei?" "Sorry, little brother. I didn't want you to find out like this. I didn't want you to find out at all." "I knew there had to be a reason you survived," Andy snarled stepping forward. "Ah, ah, ah," Andrei said softly, wagging his finger at Andy. "Don't move, Sheriff. See, my little brother here has always been a bit... well, stupid. And trusting. Dima." Andy turned as Dmitry sat up and grabbed his gun. "Sorry, Roddick. You have to do what you have to do." He smiled and gestured for Andy to move further into the cell. He turned to Mikhail and gestured to him. "In the cell with Roddick, Mischa." "You bastard," Mikhail growled. "How could you do this? How could either of you do this? How can you betray the oaths we took to serve and protect?" Dmitry looked at Andrei and smiled softly. "Well, we all do stupid things for love. In the cell." He pointed the gun at Mikhail. "I won't ask again." Mikhail moved into the cell and glared at them as the doors clanged shut. At the same time, four gun shots sounded out in the street. Andrei smirked. "Looks like our boys have just taken care of the whore." Andy rushed the bars, swearing at them. "You fuckers! I'm going to kill you!" Mardy appeared suddenly behind Andrei and he leveled his gun at Andrei's head, lifting the older man's gun from his pocket. "Looks like the whore just took care of your boys," Mardy said, nodding at Andy over Andrei's shoulder. "Dmitry, let them out or I blow your lover's brains all over you." "You wouldn't dare." Dmitry pointed Andy's gun at Andy. "Kill him and I kill Roddick." Mardy tilted his head and lifted Andrei's gun, pointing it at Dmitry. "Then you die as well." "But Andy'll still be gone." "I don't know. Andy, do you think he can pull the trigger before I can kill both of them?" Mardy raised an eyebrow, shifting just enough so that he had a clear view of Dmitry. "You're a better shot than I ever could be, Fishy. I think you can kill them both before either of them can blink." Andy smirked and moved out of the way of Dmitry's gun. "Besides, he's paying more attention to you than to me, so I figure I can move fast enough to get out of the way." "I like that plan," Mardy said. "Let them out or you both die." He narrowed his eyes and then smirked. "Let us out," Mikhail said, gun pointed at Dmitry's head. "I thought I'd taught you better than that, Dima. Never leave a man armed." Dmitry straightened, holding out the keys. Andy snatched them and let himself and Mikhail out of the cell and took back his gun and disarmed Dmitry. "In the cell, Dima. I won't ask again." Dmitry stepped into the cell, scowling as Andy slammed the door shut on him. Andy turned, catching Mikhail glaring at his brother. He touched the Ranger's shoulder and whispered softly, "Let Mardy," to which Mikhail nodded. Mardy leaned forward and whispered to Andrei, "Guess what, asshole. I may be a whore, but I'm still alive." Andrei stiffened at that, then a gunshot sounded and he fell to the floor, as the bullet exploded out of his forehead. Mardy closed his eyes, nearly dropping his gun as he wavered. Andy rushed to his side and held him close, whispering, "It's okay, Fishy. You did good. You did the right thing." Mikhail watched them with a slight smile on his face before he turned to Dmitry. "I won't kill you and neither will they," he said to the cowering man. "But, I will take you in to Austin and make sure you get justice." Andy nodded at him as he led Mardy to his chair and sat the blue-eyed man down. "Thank you, Mischa." Smiling back, Mikhail nodded. "No offense, Andy, but I really hope I never see you again." He handed his gun over and let himself into the cell where he tied up Dmitry. He led him out of the cell and re-holstered his gun. He tipped his hat at Andy and Mardy, and then took the blonde out of the Sheriff's office. Andy watched him go, before he turned back to Mardy. "You okay, Fishy?" Mardy nodded, looking away from the dead man on the floor. "Just... I killed him so casually... I don't want to become a killer, Andy." "You won't. You're strong enough that you won't become like them, Fishy." Andy kissed the side of Mardy's head. "You did what you had to do... but how'd you know I needed help?" Mardy looked up and smiled. "I saw the four guys come running out of the office and hide over by the saloon after I'd seen the other guy go into the office. Not Dmitry, but the other guy... the one I..." "And?" "And I knew they shouldn't have been let go, so I tracked them down. They were trying to get to the roof and I knew they'd kill you if they got the chance. So I shot them." "I'm impressed too. You shot all four of them pretty damn quick." "I knew I had to be quick or there was a chance they'd get a shot off. Then since I'd seen you and Mikhail head in here, I came to rescue you... or kill him." Mardy shrugged at that. "I knew if either of you were dead, but especially you, I'd kill him." Andy smiled and hugged Mardy close. "I'm glad you did. Though I don't know why Mischa didn't pull his gun sooner. Idiot." Mardy laughed softly, then pulled back, eyes narrowing as he looked at Andy. "You mounted him, didn't you?" "Well... actually, we took each other." Andy blushed slightly, looking away from Mardy. "I'm sorry, Fishy, but... I couldn't help... I mean, he was... and I..." "Shhh, it's okay Andy. I don't ask that you be celibate just because I am." Mardy smiled and kissed Andy's cheek. "I can't let anyone touch me like that, but you? You should be fucking anyone and everyone you want." Andy smiled back, turning to face Mardy. "Maybe someday I'll be able to be as casual as what Mischa and I had, but honestly? I'd rather be in a real relationship and I don't think I'm gonna find that here in this town." "What about Lleyton?" "He's straight. He likes women." Mardy frowned slightly. "Then why hasn't he visited any of the girls?" "I think he just doesn't want to have to pay for it." Andy shrugged. "I don't know for sure." "Oh." Mardy smiled and hugged Andy. "I should get back. There were a few miners in the bar and I don't want them getting out of hand." "Go on. I'll take care of the bodies." Andy pushed Mardy towards the doors and once Mardy was gone, he went to the body and stared down at it with a sigh before he turned and headed to Andre's to let the general store owner know that he had five bodies to bury. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Andy waved as Bob and James came riding into town. "What brings you boys here?" he asked, leaning against the outer wall of his office. "We need your help, Sheriff. Someone's been stealing our cattle. We're missing around fifty head," Bob said, looking panicked. "Let me go tell Mardy where I'm goin' and I'll be right with you." Bob and James both nodded and started back out of town as Andy jogged across the street and entered the saloon. "Fishy, I gotta go out to the Bryan's place. Apparently, they've had some cattle rustlers up there." "Okay, And. I'll keep an eye on your office for you," Mardy said, waving Andy away. Andy tipped his hat and ran out the door, going immediately to the stables. He saddled his horse in record time, and made his way out of town and to the Bryan ranch. Once there, he found Robby alone in the yard, holding a gray horse that stood about eleven hands. "Sheriff, here. Take Thunder. He's faster than your horse." Andy laughed softly and nodded, slipping off his horse and climbing on the other horse. "Can you rub her down for me?" "No problem. Please find these men, Sheriff." "Do my best," Andy said, tipping his hat at Robby before taking off. He rode hard, hugging the neck of the horse as he urged him on. He found the twins and James within minutes and slowed his horse until he was abreast with them. "Any clues?" "Clues?" "As to where the rustlers went?" Bob shook his head and Mike sighed. "North." "Okay, why don't y'all head back and get the cattle you still have left and round 'em up and take 'em home? I'll go after the bad guys." "Are you sure, Sheriff?" James asked. "Positive." Andy smiled. "'Sides, I'm the law, it's my job." "Well, okay then," Mike said, turning his horse around and riding back towards the ranch. Bob and James shared a look, and then wheeled their horses around as well, taking off for the ranch. Andy watched them for a moment, then headed back into town and let Mardy know what was going on before he packed his bedroll and some clothing for the trip. Mardy stopped by the house just before Andy left and handed Andy a satchel. "Food for your trip. Be safe, Andy." "Do my best, Fishy." They hugged before Andy started north after the outlaws. A two day ride found him on the outskirts of a small town. He rode into the town, finding a restaurant. After he'd gotten a meal and some hot coffee, he asked one of the other patrons where the Sheriff's office was. The patron pointed down the street to the only building at the edge of town. Andy thanked them and threw some money on his table before walking down to the Sheriff's office."Excuse me, Sheriff?" he asked the man sitting behind the big desk in the middle of the room."Can I help you?" the man asked, tilting his head to examine Andy. Blue eyes widened slightly. "You're Andy Roddick," the brunette said softly, getting to his feet. "Tomas Berdych." "Nice to meet you, Sheriff." Andy stuck his hand out and shook the taller man's. "I actually need a bit of help. Any chance you've had a man or group of men come through with a herd of about fifty head? Brand mark would've been a double B connecting?" "Yeah. Uh, the guys are just outside of town. Said the brand was for Boris Becker. It was the man in charge's name." "Actually the brand stands for Bryan. They're twins and those guys stole the cattle from them. I'm here to collect the cattle and see that the men who took them are in jail or..." Andy trailed off with a shrug. Tomas raised an eyebrow and grabbed his gun, hooking the holster around his waist. "Let's go. I know exactly where their camp is." "Thank you, Sheriff." "Call me Tomas." "And I'm Andy." Andy smiled and followed the brunette out to their horses. They rode in silence to the cold and empty camp and Andy swore under his breath. "How long do you think they've been gone?" "Probably since morning judging by the lack of any heat from the logs. They said they were heading up to the Colorado territory. Had a buyer for the cattle." "Thanks. I'll try to catch up to 'em." "Let me come along." Andy raised an eyebrow and looked back towards the small town. "Don't they need you?" "Town's is nearly empty. There's no one actually in town and the only reason they needed a Sheriff was because we thought for a while there was a silver mine nearby. When that shut down, most of the people left." "Ah. Then I'd appreciate the help." Tomas nodded and shifted his gun. "Let's ride then." Andy smiled at the eagerness in the brunette's voice and they took off. They rode for a few hours before they come upon another small town. Andy sighed and stopped his horse, glancing over at Tomas. "I need to stop and get some food." "Sounds good to me." Tomas followed Andy into the town and to a diner. They both dismounted and went inside, where Andy ordered coffee and the lunch special. Tomas glanced at the menu and ordered steak and eggs. "So, since we're both technically out of our territories, what exactly are we going to do if we catch these guys?" "I'm still technically a Ranger. They never took my badge or my rank." Andy shrugged and sipped at his coffee. "As a Ranger, I can go pretty much anywhere and arrest anyone for anything. We'll use my status for getting around the laws. And since we're on that subject, I'll deputize you right now." "Isn't there supposed to be a swearing in ceremony?" Tomas asked as the waitress set their food in front of them. Andy snorted and dug into his meal. "Actually," he said between bites, "there is no official ceremony for deputizing someone. It's not permanent unless you join the Rangers, but for now, it's exactly what we need." Andy smiled as Tomas nodded and began eating. They ate in silence and then sat back when they were done, staring at one another. "You... you seem awfully young to have been a Ranger," Tomas said finally. "Youngest Ranger ever sworn in," Andy replied, shrugging. "I was fifteen when I became a Ranger." "How old are you now?" "Sixteen," Andy replied, smiling slightly. "How old are you?" "Seventeen," Tomas replied, blushing.Andy nodded. "Easy to become Sheriff when you're young." "Almost too easy," Tomas said with a smile. "Yeah, have to agree there." Andy sighed and set some money on the table. "Let's get going, we can make more miles before nightfall." Tomas stood up and followed Andy out to the horses. Another couple of days had passed and Andy was tired, but both he and Tomas were determined to find the men who'd stolen the Bryans' cattle and bring them to justice. And the more time that passed, the closer he and Tomas became.They were near Colorado Springs and bunked down by a small pond for the night when Andy turned on his bedroll to face Tomas and smiled slightly. "So, when we catch these guys, are you gonna head back to your town?" "I thought I'd help you drive the cattle back to... where is it again? Bluebonnet?" "Yeah. I'd like the company and I could use the help. But what about after that?" "I don't know. I hate San Pablo. It's... they don't need me and most of them don't want me there anymore." Tomas sighed and rolled onto his side so that he was facing Andy. "I figured I'd keep heading south. Maybe they could use some help down in San Antonio." "Or you could stay in Bluebonnet." Andy raised an eyebrow. "I don't actually need help, but... there are a lot of farms and ranches that could probably use a hand." Tomas smiled. "Maybe. I used to help my dad run our horse farm until he died and the bank took the farm from my mother." "Well, then, you'd definitely know what to do. I could always ask the Bryan's if they need help." "Maybe. Let's find these bastards and go from there." Andy reached over, stroking his fingers over Tomas's cheek. "I just don't know that I want to say goodbye." Tomas flushed and leaned across the small space between them, kissing Andy softly. "No need for goodbye just yet anyhow." Andy licked his lips and pushed Tomas to his back, straddling the taller man and smiling down at him. "Why don't we..." Tomas nodded and lifted his hips up into Andy's. "Please, Andy." The next morning, they woke in each other's arms and Andy kissed Tomas lightly before pulling back and smiling at him. "Ready to start the day?""Absolutely," Tomas murmured, snuggling in. "We should probably clean up before we head out." Andy grinned and rubbed his hand over Tomas's ass. "Are you sure you're not too sore to ride?" Shaking his head, Tomas blushed. "I can manage." Andy finally pulled away and stood up, reaching down to help Tomas to his feet. "Well, let's get moving." Tomas nodded and let Andy help him to his feet. They bathed in the pond, both shivering by the time they were done. Then Tomas fixed breakfast while Andy cleaned up their bedrolls and saddled their horses. It wasn't long before they were back on the trail. They rode for a few hours before they came across the cattle rustlers. Andy glanced over at Tomas as they both slowed their horses and stared down the ridge at the cattle and the men surrounding them. "Looks like today's our lucky day," Andy murmured before he pulled his gun. Tomas readied his weapon and they headed down the steep incline. One of the men below started firing at them and Andy and Tomas returned fire, killing all but one of the men. Tomas stood over the man and stared down at him. "Andy, this is the one named Becker." Andy walked up to the two men and stared down at the outlaw. "You stole my friends' cattle." The man stayed silent, eyes on Tomas who was pointing his gun at Becker. Andy shook his head, then drew his gun and put a bullet between Becker's eyes. "Let's round up the cattle and get the hell out of here." He glanced up to see blue eyes staring at him in shock and horror. Andy smiled suddenly. "What? You expected me to let him live? Don't forget, we kill cattle rustlers on a regular basis." "Yeah, but... he wasn't a threat anymore." "If you have a problem with violence, what the hell are you doing as a Sheriff?" Andy shook his head and mounted his horse. "Now let's round up the cattle and head home." He didn't wait for Tomas's response, but turned his horse around and started rounding up the cattle. Tomas stared after him for several minutes before shaking his head and getting on his horse. He helped Andy round up the cattle. Within hours they were heading back to Bluebonnet with the Bryans' cattle. Andy kept glancing over at Tomas and finally, he couldn't stand the silence anymore. "Why are you so freaked out over this?" "You shot the man between the eyes for stealing cattle?! I can understand hanging a man for stealing cattle or horses, but shooting him between the eyes?" Andy sighed. "Look, maybe I wasn't a Ranger long, but we didn't waste time-" Tomas interrupted him. "Only bullets." Growling, Andy shook his head. "We didn't waste time standing around watching a man hang to death. A bullet is quick and mostly painless." Tomas just shook his head and looked away. "You're not even sorry for killing him!" "Why should I be? The man was a cattle thief! He stole cattle! He's probably stolen cattle before and the only reason he wasn't dead before is that no one caught him!" Andy sighed and threw his hands up. "You know what? Forget it! I'll take point; you make sure none of the cattle stray!" He spurred his horse on and rode to the front of the line. Tomas opened his mouth but shut it quickly. He didn't know what to say, and even if he did, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to make nice with Andy anymore. Andy smiled and waved at the twins as they rode towards him. "Hey, boys. Got your cattle.""Apparently. Thank you, Andy." Bob grinned as he caught up with them."Not a problem." He looked back and noticed Tomas still riding behind the cattle. "Any chance you boys could use a hand around here?" "We can always use help. You offering?" Mike asked with a laugh, already counting the cattle. "Not me, but the man riding with me might still be looking for work. Though I don't know if he'll want to stay in Bluebonnet after... well, let's just say he didn't take to my kind of justice." Mike narrowed his eyes. "All fifty head are here. Bob, why don't you go grab James and Robby and the four of us can take the cattle back to the rest of the herd?" Bob nodded and turned back to the ranch. Mike watched him go, before he turned to Andy. "Exactly what kind of justice are you talking about?" "I put a bullet between the leader's eyes." "And that's bad why?" "Don't ask me. I'm not the one in a snit over it." Andy shrugged and glanced at Tomas again. "His name is Tomas Berdych. Used to be Sheriff of San Pablo, up north, but they don't really need his services and he wanted out anyhow." "Well, Bob, James, Robby and I could definitely use the help. I'll talk to him... unless you'd want to do it?" "No. I think we're all better off if I stay away from him." "Okay then. Thank you, Sheriff." "No problem, Mike. I was happy I could help." He smiled and rode towards town without saying a word to Tomas. A week later, Andy found himself back out at the Bryan's ranch. Bob and Mike had asked him and Mardy to join their family for Thanksgiving, and since they didn't have anywhere else to go-- and Mardy didn't want to cook for just the two of them-- they both agreed.It wasn't until they'd arrived that Andy remembered that Tomas would also be there. He had tried to get out of it, stating that someone in town might need his help, to which Mardy and Robby had both replied that most of the town was at the Bryan ranch and the rest of the townspeople had gone away for the weekend. Andy had finally had to concede defeat and he found himself seated next to the tall brunette, as they tried to make polite conversation. But Andy could tell that Tomas didn't want him there anymore than he wanted to be there, though neither of them could figure a way out of it. Luckily, during dinner, the conversation was mostly steered towards the winter harvest and whether or not some of the farms around the town would be able to pull in their fields before the weather grew too cold and damp. But after dinner and dessert, when everyone else was bunked down either in the house or out in the bunkhouse, Tomas and Andy were both left alone in the Bryans' living room. They'd been designated as the two stuck sleeping in the living room, since they'd run out of beds.Andy watched the brunette pace the room and he finally reached out, stopping him. "Relax. Look, I know you don't like me anymore because of what I did. All we have to do is sleep." "It's not that... I just..." "You just what?" "I just... I miss you." Tomas looked at Andy and sighed. "I thought what you did was horrible, but... I've thought about it and you're right. Shooting him was quicker. I've just never seen anyone be so callous about shooting a man." Andy smiled. "Obviously, you didn't have a lot to deal with in San Pablo." "No, I didn't. It was always pretty quiet." Tomas smiled back, though his was a little more forced. "Have you missed me?" For a second, Andy thought about lying, but in the end, decided against it. "Not really. Maybe it's just me, but a bout of good sex just doesn't make me want to be with someone for all time." He shrugged, thinking carefully about his next words. "See, I can't help but... look, I just really believe that everyone has one person in the world they're meant to be with. One person who will complete their lives and make them whole. I like you and you're a nice guy, but you aren't my other half. And if you think about it, you'll know that you might miss me physically, but you don't want a relationship with me. You never would've been so horrified by what I'd done if you really, truly cared about me." Tomas frowned and sat down next to Andy. "I think maybe you're right. I just... I'm not used to going this long." "Huh?" Face flushing, Tomas stared at his hands which were clasped in his lap. "I'm not used to going this long without sex." Andy snorted, but managed to cut the rest of his laughter off. "Oh. Well... why don't you come into town and see some of Mardy's girls? Rates are reasonable enough." "I don't have sex with women." "How'd you get laid in San Pablo?" "Couple of the townsmen was always willing." Andy nodded, finally saying, "Well, if it's just sex you want, I think I could manage to help you out. But... I just don't think we should get too attached to one another." "I agree." Tomas smiled at him and shrugged. "Which means we probably shouldn't be with one another again?" "Probably not." "Hey, is Mardy single?" Andy scowled. "He's off limits." "Oh... is he the one? For you, I mean?" "No," Andy snapped, and then jumped slightly when he heard his name being called. He turned to find Mardy standing in the doorway, blinking against the lanterns. "Hey, Fishy. What's going on?" "Had a nightmare," Mardy said, walking around the couch to sit next to Andy. He smiled across Andy at Tomas, but leaned against Andy. "I just... I couldn't stay up there alone." "No problem, Fishy. You and I can take the floor. Tomas, you can have his bed if you want." Tomas stood up and nodded. "Thanks. I hope... I hope you sleep well." He sighed and headed out of the room and Andy waved him off. Mardy snuggled close, burying his face against Andy's neck. "Had a dream about Patrick," he whispered against Andy's skin. Andy frowned at the mention of Patrick, but pulled Mardy close. "He's dead, Mardy. He can't hurt you anymore." "I know that, logically, but... it was so real." Mardy shuddered and pulled away, tears in his eyes as he looked at Andy. "And when I woke up and I didn't know where I was..." He let out a shaky breath and then covered his face. Andy watched while Mardy's shoulder shook and he reached out, stroking his friend's back until Mardy's sobs subsided. Mardy finally lifted his face from his hands and smiled weakly. "Did I interrupt you and Tomas?" "Nah. We were just... working some things out." "Like... where and when you're gonna mount him?" Mardy asked, a slight twinkle in his eye.Andy narrowed his gaze, trying his best to scowl at Mardy, but he was really just happy to see Mardy teasing him, especially after his nightmare. "We did that already and no. We were just talking about maybe possibly being together again, but... I just couldn't. He's not the man I'm meant to be with." Mardy smiled and leaned over, kissing Andy's cheek. "You're so cute when you talk about everyone having one person they belong to." "I believe it, Fishy. Everyone in the world has that one person out there somewhere who completes them." Andy smiled and shrugged. "Maybe that makes me a sap, but I know that someday, I'll find the man I'm supposed to belong to and when I find him, I am never going to let him go." "I hope you do find him someday, Andy. I just don't believe that all of us have someone we're meant to be with." "Everyone does. Including you. And when you find him, you'll know and he'll be everything you need and everything you could possibly want, even if you don't know you want it." Andy smiled and kissed Mardy's forehead. "Now, let's turn down these lanterns and get some sleep. I'm tired and I just know these damn ranchers are gonna be up at four in the morning." Mardy laughed softly and nodded, helping Andy to turn the lanterns down before snuggling up against him on the bedrolls that Andy and Tomas had been given. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Andy sat back and watched as Mardy stirred together ingredients in a huge bowl. "What exactly are you making?" he asked finally, playing with the brim of his hat where it sat next to him. "Tomorrow is Christmas, Andy." Mardy turned and smiled, dipping his finger into the batter. "I'm making cookies and then I'm going make some pies. Tomorrow, the twins, James, Robby, Tomas, and Lleyton are coming for Christmas dinner. If you'd go hunting, we could have goose, otherwise we'll have ham." "What other dishes are we having?" Andy asked, leaning against the table. Mardy smiled. "Depends on the main course. So, will you go see if you can get me a goose?" "If I go get you a goose, what are the other dishes?" "What do you want?" Andy smiled broadly. "Corn and sweet potato pie. Mashed potatoes with gravy. Cranberry sauce. Mincemeat pie and apple pie for dessert." "Done. If you get me a goose." "Will you have chestnut stuffing too?" "Get me a goose and we'll see." Mardy smiled as Andy stood up and reached for his rifle. "Thanks, Andy." "For a home-cooked, real Christmas meal? I'd do just about anything." Andy walked around the table and hugged Mardy from behind. "And for you, I'd walk through fire anyway." Mardy blushed and pushed Andy away. "Go kill a goose." Andy laughed and headed out, stopping by the Bryan's ranch to find out where a good spot for hunting geese would be. Andy returned hours later, carrying not only a huge goose, but a deer as well. He walked around to the back of their house, hanging the deer before he began to dress it."Andy, is that you?" Mardy called, coming around the side of the house. Andy looked up from where he was slitting the deer's belly and smiled. "Yep. Got you your goose." He gestured to the bird. "Also, couldn't resist the deer. He was just standing there, almost begging to be shot." Mardy laughed and walked over, kissing Andy's cheek. "I'll clean the goose. What are we going to do with that much deer meat?" "I thought you could use some of it at the saloon. I figure I can make jerky and some venison stew with the rest." "Sounds good to me." Mardy picked up the goose and went about cleaning it. "Thank you for getting me the goose." "Is this what you and your family did for Christmas?" Andy asked, turning back to his deer. "No. We only celebrated Christmas once, that I can remember." Mardy frowned as he plucked the goose's feathers. "We had roasted rabbit. No trimmings. No decorations. Just the rabbit and my mom had made me a pair of... socks, I think. Or mittens maybe." Mardy shrugged. "It was when I was... four or five. But I used to hear some of the girls when I was with the McEnroes talk about their Christmases. They always talked about the food. The grand meals their mothers and grandmothers and aunts would slave over the whole day while the men sat around, bullshitting and the kids played with the toys that Santa had left them." Mardy glanced at Andy. "Did you and your brothers get gifts from Santa?" "Every year until I turned fourteen." Andy smiled. "We'd hang stockings by the fire." "My parents never talked about Christmas. I didn't have friends when I was little, so I didn't even know there was... I didn't know anyone thought such crazy things." Andy laughed at that. "I guess it is crazy to someone who wasn't reared on Santa and the birth of Christ and all that." Mardy nodded and finished cleaning the goose. He lifted the pan full of water he'd set out for just this purpose and dumped some salt in it before dunking the bird under the water. "I didn't even know what a present was until I heard those girls talk about them." He sighed. "Anyhow, so, that's what I always wanted to do. Have a huge Christmas feast with all my friends surrounding me... but I never thought I'd actually have real friends." Andy blinked back tears and wiped his hands on his pants, walking over and hugging Mardy from behind. He rested his cheek between Mardy's shoulder blades and tried not to cry. "I'm so sorry you didn't have a childhood." Mardy sniffled and pulled away. "Me too. Finish dressing the deer, then would you go into town? I've got a list of things I need from the store but I don't want to ruin the cookies I'm making." "No problem," Andy murmured, stroking a hand down Mardy's back. He watched as the blonde headed into the house, carrying the goose in its pan, before he turned back to the deer. Once he was finished with it, he cleaned up and headed into town with the list Mardy had given him. He stepped into the store, a bit surprised to see Richard Gasquet there. "Richie, what brings you back to Bluebonnet?" he asked. The last he'd seen of the young man, Richard had been on his way to New York for school or some such thing. Andy could never remember why he'd left their small town. Richard turned and smiled. "Andy. I just got back into town. I was rather hoping I could talk to you." "Sure thing. Just... Andre, I've got a list of things Mardy needs. Can you get it all for me while I talk to Richie?" Andre nodded and took the list, heading into the backroom. Richard pulled Andy outside and smiled at him. "I went to New York for the seminary." "So, you're a priest now?" Andy asked, blinking at the young man. Richard was roughly two years younger than Andy, so Andy couldn't quite figure out how he could be a priest already. "Not quite yet. I'm actually more of... a missionary." Richard shrugged. "Where's Belle? All Andre would tell me was that she left town." "She did. I think she went to Montana? If I remember correctly. Mardy bought the saloon from her." "Oh. Does he rent out the rooms still?" "As a priest... sorry, missionary, aren't you supposed to shun that place?" Richard laughed and nodded. "Probably, but there's nowhere else to stay." "Good point." Andy grinned, and then looked up when a stranger approached them. Richard's eyes lit up, so Andy figured out that the younger man knew the dark-haired stranger. "Howdy, I'm Sheriff Andy Roddick," he said, sticking his hand out to greet the stranger. "Sebastien Grosjean," the stranger said softly, shaking Andy's hand. "I am Richard's... uhm... mentor, I guess is the word." "Ah, so you're a priest?" "No. Reverend." Sebastien smiled. "Richard, no one was at the saloon." "That would be because Mardy's at home and the girls aren't allowed to let strangers in when he's not there," Andy said. "Mardy owns the place. I could run home and get him, if you're in a rush for a room?" "No rush," Richard said, glancing over his shoulder into the general store. "We have to bed the horses down first." He paused, chewing on his lower lip as he looked at Sebastien. "Andy, is there any chance we could use one of the empty buildings for prayer services tomorrow? Or rather tonight?" "I don't see why not." Andy smiled. "As a matter of fact, Mardy's doin' a big Christmas dinner at our place tomorrow. I'm sure you'd both be welcome to join us. Let me get the stuff he needed and I'll go get you two a couple of rooms and ask him about dinner tomorrow?" "We'd both appreciate that," Sebastien said, eyes twinkling.Andy nodded and tipped his hat before ducking back into the general store. "Andre? Got that stuff for me?" "Everything's in the box, Sheriff." Andy paused in reaching for his money. He glanced around the store, and then spotted a hand crafted guitar. "Just out of curiosity, how much for the guitar?" He'd seen Mardy eyeing a similar, but not as well made, guitar in a catalog he'd taken to the blonde and he'd asked if Mardy knew how to play. When Mardy had said yes, Andy had started planning how best to order a guitar for Mardy's birthday. But he'd forgotten about it in the aftermath of chasing down the cattle rustlers for the Bryans and then Thanksgiving. He'd ended up getting Mardy clothing, which he knew his friend needed, but it wasn't something Mardy would have normally wanted. "Five dollars," Andre said, not even looking up at him. "Five?" Andy sighed, eyeballing the guitar. "Any sheet music?" "Got some Christmas music in for the guitar. It's part of the price." Andy nodded and pulled out the money, picking up the guitar. "I'll take it. How much for everything?" "With the guitar, that'll be eighteen dollars and twelve cents." Andy nearly laughed at the ridiculously high amount, but handed the money over. He picked up the box as Andre handed him several sheets of paper. "Here's the sheet music," Andre said, setting it on top of the stuff in the box. "Present for your boyfriend?" Andy just nodded and walked outside, carrying the box and the guitar. "Richie, I don't suppose you'd be willing to run this guitar over to my office for me?" "Sure. Why?" "'Cause it's a present for Mardy. He's not used to presents, so... Anyhow, I don't want him to know I got it for him." Richard smiled and took the guitar and the sheet music when Andy gestured to it. "Anywhere in your office?" "That'll do. Thanks," he said, before carrying the rest of the stuff down the road to his and Mardy's house. Sebastien caught up to him and glanced over at him before staring at the house. "Can I help you, Reverend?" "How long have you known Richard?" "I didn't know him but a couple of months before he left for New York. He's a good kid, though." "Yes, he is." "Why so curious? You probably know him better than me." "No doubt." Andy glanced over at the shorter man, and then grinned. "You like him. Like, you want him." Sebastien blushed slightly. "We are... together. It's part of why he didn't become a priest. As a reverend, he can have a relationship." Andy nodded slowly. "And you wanted to know if I'd been with him." "He talks about you like you are... the most amazing man he'd ever met. I certainly know he finds you utterly fascinating." "I think he was just in awe, 'cause I was a Ranger before I came here. I'd traveled all over the state of Texas and he thought that was exciting." "Oh. So, you and he never..." "No. We never did anything. He was... really young when I arrived and seemed younger than he is. He's matured a lot since he's been gone, but I wouldn't have been with him back then anyhow. Mardy needed me too much." "This Mardy, he is your lover?" "No." Andy shook his head, glancing over at the man. "Anything I say to you... can we keep it just between us? I like Richie and all, but Mardy's secrets don't need to be known by everyone. I probably shouldn't tell you, but... I need someone to talk to." Sebastien nodded. "Anything you tell me can be held in the strictest of confidences if you wish." He blinked suddenly, staring towards the house. "He's beautiful." Andy followed his gaze and smiled, knowing exactly what Sebastien was seeing without looking, but unable to resist the sight. The sun was at its highest peak and Mardy was standing on the wraparound porch. Dressed in a light blue shirt and his long hair pulled back by a leather thong, Mardy's eyes shone bright blue, even though most eyes would've looked just plain brown because of the way the light hit him. He wasn't overly well muscled, but Mardy had worked on his body since they'd come to Bluebonnet and the muscles he did have were defined, even underneath his clothing. He was smiling, because lately, Mardy always smiled and it made Andy's heart swell to see that smile. It wasn't the fake one Mardy had given him when they'd met so many months ago, but this was a genuine smile. Mardy was truly happy and that made his beauty that much more stunning. "Yes, he is," Andy said softly. "Hey, Mardy. Got your stuff. You owe me thirteen dollars," he added, winking at his best friend. Mardy laughed and nodded. "Actually, with all the housekeeping I do for you here and at your office, I think you still owe me, Roddick. Who's this?" "Reverend Sebastien Grosjean. He's in town with Richie." "Richie's back?" Mardy came down the steps, holding his hand out to the Reverend. "Nice to meet you, Reverend. Mardy Fish." "It's a pleasure to meet you as well." Andy nearly laughed at the slightly besotted way Sebastien was looking up at Mardy. "Yeah, Richie's back. Apparently, he's working with the Reverend here. They need a couple of rooms at the hotel?" "No problem." He glanced in the box and nodded, eyes taking in everything. "Good, he did have everything." He turned to Sebastien and smiled. "I'll tell you what, Reverend. Your stay at the hotel is on the house, if you come to dinner tomorrow night." "I think Richard and I could do that." Mardy nodded, taking the box from Andy. "You know where the keys are, Andy? Can you let them in? I've got cookies in the oven and I don't want them to burn." "Yep. Oh, and they're gonna have prayer services tonight. I thought we could go?" Mardy smiled shyly. "I'm not sure if I should..." "I'll talk to the Reverend, if you don't mind, and I'll let you know what he says." Mardy nodded and headed inside. "Wow," Sebastien whispered, glancing over at Andy. "He's..." "Yeah. He is." Andy laughed and shook his head. "Though I've never seen anyone as floored as you are." Andy winked and gestured for the Reverend to follow him. "Mardy... he was a whore. Down in Austin, when I first met him, he was working for a really bad man. Actually, he was owned by a really bad man. I killed that man and took Mardy away from that life, but... I don't think he feels like he's the type of man who should be going to church services." Sebastien shook his head. "He should be there tonight. It's not a real church and I would never presume to judge anyone. That's not my place." "Isn't it?" "No, it's God's place and only he can judge us." Andy nodded, a small smile crossing his lips before he frowned. "I love Mardy, not in... not in that way, but... he's like a brother to me and I'd do anything to keep him safe." He sighed and glanced back at the house. "He was very fragile when we arrived here. I was the only one who could touch him for the longest time. But I couldn't really help him. He's gotten better, but... I just feel kind of useless sometimes. He's getting better, but I'm doing anything to help. I feel like I should be doing something to help him." "You're there for him, yes?" "Of course." "You listen when he needs an ear? You hold him when he needs a hug or comfort? You leave him alone when he needs peace a quiet?" "Yes. Of course." Sebastien smiled, stopped walking and turned Andy to face him. He reached up, cupping Andy's face in his palms. "Then, Andy, you are helping him. You're doing everything you can to help him get better. You can't just wave a magic wand and make him feel all better about himself, though I'm sure you'd like to do that for him. All you can do is be there to support him and do what he needs you to do, whether it's backing off to give him space or holding him or listening to him, or letting him use you as a punching bag, so to speak. You can't get in his head and work his problems out for him, no matter that that's exactly what you want to do. Just keep doing what you've been doing and he'll get better." Andy laughed, tears filling his eyes. "That's what I've been told before, but... I know he's gotten a lot better than he was when I first met him, but..." "You want him to find a lover and settle down?" "No. Not exactly. I want him to stop being so afraid of what people will think if they really get to know him. Even me he holds at a distance. I can't be everything he needs because he won't tell me what that everything is." Tears trickled slowly down Andy's face unnoticed by the Sheriff. Sebastien wiped at the tears, smiling sadly. "You said he was owned by a very bad man, yes?" Andy nodded, snuffling back more tears. "He was also abused, I take it. Not just in the being-used-in-a-sexual-manner way, but physically beaten?" "Yeah." "And though you probably couldn't tell me, judging from what you've said, I would guess the abuse started long before he met that bad man, probably when he was little more than a baby." "Don't know." "I'm probably right about that. Andy, he's scared to let you in. He's scared to let anyone in, because from his childhood, he's probably been taught to keep to himself and trust no one. He most likely wasn't given a proper childhood where he could be carefree and just have fun. That makes a person more withdrawn and unlikely to trust anyone, even someone they know truly cares about them." "How'd you figure?" "Because that was my childhood. My life until I managed to get away from the McEnroes and find safety in anonymity." "McEnroes? You knew Patrick?" "Knew?" Sebastien's face paled slightly. "You killed him?" "He's the man who owned Mardy. I killed the bastard." Sebastien smiled, just a bit evilly. "Good. I hope it hurt a lot." He clenched his jaw, and then took some deep breaths. "Sorry. Not very Christian of me." Andy snorted. "No, but I knew the man, so, I don't blame you for feeling that way." "I suppose you wouldn't. But yes, if he was with Patrick, then I know what he went through. It wasn't pleasant, no matter which way you try to twist it. Give him more time. He will come through. I survived, and so can he." "Okay. I'll give him more time and just keep doin' what I've been doin'." Andy wiped at his face. "Sorry. I don't usually cry." Sebastien shook his head. "No need to apologize, Sheriff. Here comes Richard, so we'll just keep this quiet." "Thank you." Andy shook his head sharply, and then glanced up at Richard. "Hey. Let's go get you two a room... or two?" Richard blushed and glanced at Sebastien. "Whatever Sebastien wants." "One room," Sebastien said, moving to Richard's side and holding the younger man's hand. Andy smiled and nodded, leading them into the hotel as he dug his keys out of his pocket. He went around the bar and picked up one of the nicer room's keys. He held them out as Richard glanced at Sebastien. "Aren't you going to pay him?" Richard asked softly. Sebastien squeezed his hand. "Mardy said he'd let us have the room as long as we went to the dinner he's having tomorrow. It sounded like a good idea to me." Richard grinned. "Oh. Good. I'll go get our stuff from the stables." Andy smiled and told Richard which room was his. Then he showed Sebastien to the room. "Now, I will warn you there are whores in the building, but I doubt you'd be taking part of what they have to offer, but I do think you should know." Andy smiled as a couple of the girls poked their heads into the hallway. "Girls, this is the Reverend. He and his... partner are staying here for a while. They aren't interested in what you have to offer, so don't offer yourself to them. And tell the rest of the girls." They nodded before ducking back into their room. Looking at Sebastien, Andy shrugged. "They should leave you two alone now. And if you'd like, now I can show you where you two can have the sermon tonight? I'm assuming it'll be sort of a midnight mass type thing?" Sebastien nodded slowly, looking into the room. "Thank you. How do we get the word out though?" "There's not a lot of folk left around the area this time of year. Most go south to San Antonio to the big church they have. They always have a big shindig down there for Christmas." Andy shrugged. "Right now it's pretty much me and Mardy, the Bryans and their significant others and one of their hands and last but not least, the telegraph officer. Andre's staying in town, but I know he's not invited to our place for Christmas dinner." Shrugging again, Andy sighed. "He's not really a nice guy and I try to keep him and Mardy apart as much as possible. I don't like the way he looks at Andy." Sebastien nodded. "Richard introduced me. He is definitely not a nice man." Andy laughed softly. "Yeah. I'm riding out to the ranch to see if the twins have some of the stuff I need to make venison jerky. You're welcome to ride along?" "I'd like that." Sebastien smiled, before glanced over Andy's shoulder. "Richard, do you need help?" Andy turned and lifted three of the four bags from the other man before Richard could answer and carried them into their room. He set them down on the lone bed and gestured around the room. "I think the room is pretty self-explanatory." He smiled as Richard set the other bag down and nodded. "I can introduce you two to Lleyton." "Who's Lleyton?" Richard asked, raising an eyebrow. "He runs the telegraph office. Nice guy. From Australia." Both missionaries nodded and followed Andy out of the hotel and down the road to the telegraph office. Later that evening, Andy and Mardy walked arm in arm down the main road to what was supposed to be the doctor's office and waved to Lleyton. They were both smiling, in good spirits from both the holiday season and having spent most of the day with Richard and Sebastien. Plus, Andy was full of cookies and milk, having eaten all of the cookies that Mardy wasn't quite satisfied with or that he'd burnt slightly. This had added up to a lot of cookies, but Andy had kept eating them, so Mardy kept giving them to him.Mardy laughed softly as the twins came up behind them, singing Christmas carols. He turned his head, only to meet Andy's eyes. "What?" "You. You're really happy today. I... I've never seen you like this." Mardy shrugged and clung to Andy's arm. "Never felt this good. Even without Santa or presents, this is the best Christmas ever." Andy smiled, thinking of the guitar he was planning on picking up after the service. "Well, it's the best Christmas I've had in a long time. I'm glad you thought to do the Christmas dinner." "So am I. And we'll be surrounded by all our friends." "And our family," Andy said, staring into Mardy's eyes.Mardy blushed and nodded. "And our family." They shared another smile before heading into the office space and taking a seat next to Lleyton. Mardy turned and began talking to Robby and James while Andy began a conversation with Lleyton until Sebastien called for their attention. After the prayer services, everyone headed over to the hotel where Mardy served them eggnog and cookies and the twins sat at the piano, playing Christmas carols which everyone sang along with. Though to be honest, there was as much laughing as there was singing in the room, because some of them couldn't sing a note, while others had amazing voices. Andy glanced up as Mike began playing Silent Night. For the first few rounds, no one sang, just listening to the music, until finally, Mardy walked over to the twin and rested his hand on Mike's shoulder and began to sing in a strong, clear, beautiful voice. "Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright, 'round yon virgin, mother and child, holy infant so tender and mild," Mardy gestured to the rest of the room and everyone slowly began adding their voices until they were all surrounding the piano and singing along. As the song came to a close, Mardy glanced over the piano to Andy and smiled almost shyly. Andy walked around the piano and wrapped an arm around Mardy's waist, holding his friend close. "I think I'm gonna take Mardy home and tuck him into bed." "Everyone is welcome to take a room here," Mardy said, leaning his head against Andy's shoulder. "And you can come over at any time in the morning. I'll be up early to start cooking." Everyone thanked them and headed up to the rooms, except Lleyton who headed back down the street to his office. Andy kissed Mardy on the cheek. "Go on home. I'll be right there. I just wanna lock up my office." "Okay. I'm going to head straight up to my room and to bed, so I'll see you in the morning." Andy nodded and said goodnight before heading across the street. He grabbed the guitar and sheet music, along with the small tree he'd had the twins bring in. It was already decorated with shiny ribbons and several small gifts that he'd been working on for Mardy were wrapped and hanging from the tree by the ribbons. He hefted both tree and guitar and carried them home, setting them up in the living room. Stepping back, he examined the tree with the guitar lying under it. He smiled, remembering Christmases from the past when he and his brothers would wake up long before dawn and even though they'd never been allowed downstairs until their parents had woken up, they'd all gather in Lawrence's bed-- it never mattered to any of them that Lawrence was so much older than Andy, or that even John was considerably older, they all just enjoyed spending time with each other. Each of the boys would talk about what they hoped they'd get for Christmas and though money was always tight for their parents, they could usually count on getting exactly what they wanted, even if it hadn't necessarily been store bought. Either their dad or their mom would make them what they wanted and on very rare occasions, they'd get real store bought presents. Andy grinned and stepped outside, staring up at the starry sky. "Johnny, wherever you are, big brother, thank you for bring Mardy into my life. I don't know if I could've survived losing you if I didn't have him." He wiped away a stray tear and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Keep watch over Mom and Lawrence and Lawrence's family, and even though I know they can't forgive me for your death or even Dad's, let them know somehow that I will always love them." He wiped at his face again and went back inside and up to bed. Andy woke to Mardy bouncing on his bed. He blinked at the blonde and tried to shake himself awake. "Fishy, what?""You..." Mardy stopped bouncing and started crying. "You gave me a present." Andy sat up, sleep clearing away in Mardy's flood of tears. He wrapped his arms around Mardy. "Of course I did. It's Christmas." "But I didn't get you anything," Mardy sobbed, burying his face against Andy's shoulder. Andy shook his head, tears slipping down his face as he rocked Mardy. "You're getting better and that's all the present I need, Fishy. I have you and we're both healthy." Andy pushed him back and laughed softly. "We're both a mess." Mardy nodded, wiping at his face, then reaching out and wiping at Andy's. "Thank you. I always wanted a guitar." "I remember you telling me that once. And when I saw it yesterday, I just had to get it for you." Andy stroked a hand over Mardy's cheek. "I didn't get you the guitar so you'd get me something in return. That's not what gift giving is about. It's about seeing the joy in another's face." Andy smiled and sniffled back his tears. "And even though you come to me in tears because of a gift, I know you'll truly appreciate it." Mardy laughed through his tears and nodded. "I guess it's a good thing I'm making your favourites for our meal." Andy laughed as well and leaned forward, kissing Mardy very gently on the lips. "Fishy, I love you. Just be happy and I'll be happy." Wiping a fresh set of tears away, Mardy nodded. "Get dressed and I'll make you breakfast. Everyone's coming over for breakfast in a couple of hours and then we can all sit around and... do something." Mardy shrugged. "What do people do on Christmas?" Andy laughed harder, lying back down on his bed. "All I remember was me and my brothers playing with the toys our dad made us. Mom would cook a huge meal and Dad would sit in his chair, pretending he loved the stupid little gifts my brothers and I found for him." He yawned and stretched, before rolling out of bed. "I do remember that after breakfast, he'd bring out the Bible and read us the story of Christ's birth. Then Mom would go back into the kitchen to cook more, neighbours would come over and they'd all talk for a while, then Dad would drag Lawrence and John-- and me when I was old enough-- out to the fields to do some work before we'd come in to eat our meal. Then the neighbours would leave and we'd all sit around the fireplace, singing Christmas carols.""Sounds perfect." Mardy ducked out of Andy's room, and then came back with a Bible. "Will you read the story to me while I make you breakfast? I want something for just the two of us before our friends come over." Andy teared up again, ducking his head. "Yeah," he said sounding congested, "just let me get dressed and I'll be right down." Mardy bounced a little on Andy's bed before Andy felt the weight lift and heard his door close. Andy sat back down on his bed and pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his face against his legs and crying. He wasn't sad, but was very choked up by Mardy's unexpected acceptance of his family's traditions and the fact that Mardy wanted them to have something of their very own. He wiped at his face before he got dressed. After he'd taken care of his morning business, he went back to his bedroom and picked up Mardy's Bible before joining Mardy in the kitchen. Mardy smiled and handed him a cup of coffee, made just the way Andy liked it. Slightly sweetened with a dash of cream and cinnamon. Andy sipped at his coffee and found the right page in the Bible before he started to read.Moving around the kitchen with an efficiency that Andy normally found terrifying, but today was merely comforting, Mardy made a simple breakfast of eggs and bacon, setting the plate in front of Andy as Andy finally finished reading the story. They held hands across the table as they ate in silence, sharing the moment. After their breakfast dishes were washed, Andy led Mardy into the living room and gestured to the tree. "I didn't just give you the guitar. I also made you some things for either here, around the house, or at the hotel in your room there." Mardy hugged him, before he approached the tree. "How long have you been planning this?" "The last couple of weeks," Andy said softly, watching as Mardy fingered the packages tied into the tree. "You can untie them and take them down." Mardy shook his head as he turned to smile at Andy. "Can I wait until everyone's left for the day?" "Wanna drag this out?" Mardy nodded. "It's my first real Christmas." Andy grinned and walked up to Mardy, holding him tight. "Okay then. I'm gonna go check on everyone at the hotel." "I'm going to start cooking. Tell them breakfast is ready whenever they want to come on over." Andy kissed Mardy's cheek before he grabbed his hat and headed to town. Andy got back to the house a couple of hours later, walking in to find all of their friends laughing and talking in the living room. Andy smiled at them and headed into the kitchen, a little surprised to see Sebastien holding Mardy's hand. "Sorry. Am I interrupting?"Sebastien looked up, and then glanced at Mardy. "Tell him, Mardy. I'll get out of your way." "Fishy?" Andy said, looking after Sebastien, before looking back to his best friend. "What's going on?" "I just... Just some issues that cropped up after you left and before the guys showed up." Mardy sniffled and gestured to the chair across from his. "It wasn't... Andre showed up shortly before everyone else. I didn't know how to get rid of him and he... he wouldn't stop." Andy scowled, sitting down across from Mardy. "What did he do, Fishy?" "Nothing really. He just made some pointed comments about me and... I know he doesn't know about my past, but he kept... and he touched me. It was just a touch on my arm, but..." Mardy sighed and dropped his head to the table. "And then the twins, James, Robby and Tomas showed up and they got rid of him for me, but..." "But what?" Andy said, reaching out and stroking Mardy's hair. Mardy shook his head and stood up, whole body shaking. "I needed you," he said finally, gasping for breath. Andy stood as well and pulled Mardy into his arms, holding his friend tight. Mardy buried his face against Andy's neck and cried. Andy held him tightly, stroking his hand in slow circles over Mardy's back. After a while, Mardy's sobs subsided and he fell silent, nuzzling Andy's neck. Andy smiled at the gesture and tilted his head to kiss Mardy's cheek. "Feel better?" "A little." Mardy pulled back and wiped at his face with his sleeve. "Sorry for crying all over you. I just... I guess I sort of panicked." "It's okay, Fishy. I'm here for you. I'm just sorry I wasn't here when that bastard showed up." Mardy smiled. "That's okay too." Mardy nodded and glanced around the kitchen. "I have to get moving so everything'll be ready." "Okay. I'll go distract everyone. Do you need a hand in here at all?" "No. I've got it." "All right." Andy kissed his cheek and stroked his thumb over Mardy's mouth before heading into the living room where everyone had fallen silent. They all looked at him expectantly. "He's okay now." He started to say more, but shut his mouth quickly. It wasn't his place to tell them what had happened and he wouldn't hurt Mardy by telling their friends if Mardy didn't want them to know. He sat down in his chair as the conversations started up again and settled in with their friends. A few hours passed, with Mardy coming in and out of the living room, refilling drinks and occasionally stealing people to help him in the kitchen. The men in the living room mostly talked about harvest and rotating cattle, with a little talk of someday building a church in town. Andy was all for that idea, but knew it would be several years down the road. Most of the farmers around the town didn't have the time to spare to help build anymore buildings and usually didn't come to the prayer meetings that they held on rare occasions during the year anyhow. But he knew that someday, they'd have a bigger town, with more people living in town and they'd need more buildings someday. He smiled slightly at the thought and wondered what big adventures might lay ahead in the future.Finally, Mardy called everyone to the table and after Sebastien led them all in saying grace, everyone dug in. As they ate, everyone showered Mardy with compliments on a well-cooked, tasty meal, which Mardy tried to brush off. Andy finally nudged him and shook his head. "Take your compliments, Mardy. You slaved all day making our meal and it's fantastic. You did good, Fishy. Really good." Mardy blushed, ducking his head. "Thank you. I'm glad everyone's enjoying it."After dinner, everyone retired to the living room, groaning about their full bellies as Mardy took the dishes into the kitchen and began to clean up. Andy followed him and pulled him into the living room. "Sit down and enjoy our company. I'll go do the dishes." Tomas stood up. "I'll help you, Andy." Andy blinked at him, but nodded his head slightly. "I'd appreciate the help," he said softly as he pushed Mardy into a chair. "Sit and talk to everyone. Maybe Mike can play some Christmas carols on the piano and you can accompany him on the guitar." Andy winked at him and led Tomas into the kitchen. "Really, thank you for the help." "I've been trying all night to get you alone." Tomas moved to the water reserve and filled a bucket with warm water. "What you said at Thanksgiving was right. There is someone out there just for me... but..." "But?" Andy said as he put some soap in the water and stirred it a bit to make it just a little bit easier to clean the dishes. Then he started adding dishes to the somewhat sudsy water, watching Tomas. "But... until either of us meets our one, do you think we could... spend some time together?" Tomas looked at him hopefully. Andy started to turn him down, but caught sight of Mardy watching them from the doorway. "I just don't know. Can you get these started? I'll go make sure we've got everything from the dining table." Tomas nodded and started scrubbing the dishes as Andy followed Mardy into the dining room. "Eavesdropping, Fishy?" "I just wanted to make sure you found everything... but I did overhear. Andy, why don't you want to be with him? I know you find him attractive." "I do, but... I can't just sleep with him because he's attractive and I'm lonely for that kind of companionship." Andy wiped off the table and looked up at Mardy. Mardy smiled slightly. "Yes, you can. Andy, he wants to be with you. He's not asking for a lifetime commitment or even love. He just wants you to... have him. Or to have you, whichever." Mardy shrugged, still smiling. "If this is about me, don't use me as an excuse to push him away." "I'm not. Really, I'm not." Andy sighed heavily and leaned on the table. "I don't want to have sex with him and have either of start to think it's more than it should be. I don't love him and he doesn't love me. He doesn't even like the way I do my job. If he can't deal with how I handle outlaws... I just want someone to accept how I do my job as it being part of me and them not look at me like I'm some horrible man who's committed some atrocious act." Mardy nodded and hugged Andy lightly. "Okay then. I'm sorry for pushing you. You do what you have to do, Andy. But... you can have him without it being about you using him." "I'm not so sure about that," Andy said softly, hugging Mardy back. "Go on in with our friends." Mardy did as he was told and Andy headed back to the kitchen."Did you and Mardy have a nice talk?" Tomas asked, smiling when Andy frowned at him. "I saw him in the doorway. You could've just said you were going to talk to him." "I didn't want you to think I was talking about you behind your back." "But you did." "But I did." Andy laughed softly and started drying the newly washed dishes. "Sorry. But... I can't just have sex with you because we both have needs." "How about because we're both lonely and we do like each other's company?" "But you don't." Andy shook his head. "You don't like the way I handled things with the cattle rustlers. And my job is important to me. Almost as important to me as Mardy is." "I admit it shocked and horrified me that you shot the man between the eyes. But the more I thought about it, the more I understood and I don't think it was wrong anymore. At the time, I was just... surprised. I want to be with you. Not for forever, but just for an hour, or a day or... whatever. I want to spend time with you, Andy. Not just in bed with you mounting me, but... just spend time with you." Andy opened his mouth to object, but finally closed it and slumped slightly as he began to put the cleaned and dried dishes away. Tomas fell silent as Andy thought Tomas's proposal over and they worked together, finishing the dishes easily. Andy finally leaned over and kissed Tomas lightly. "Okay. I can't give you any promises, but we can start spending time together. You do have to understand you'll come third in my life. Mardy is first. My job is second." Tomas smiled and wrapped his arms around Andy's neck, looking into the hazel eyes. "I can handle that. As long as I'm in the first five." He winked and laughed softly, leaning in to kiss Andy, gently working the Sheriff's mouth open with his own. Andy moaned and pulled the taller man in against him, grinding up against him. Tomas broke the kiss, gasping for air. "Well..." Chuckling, Andy leaned back against the wash basin and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe tomorrow, I can swing by the ranch?" "I'd like that," Tomas replied with a wide grin. "I'd really like that." "Good." Andy pushed the other man towards the living room. "Go tell them we're done with the dishes and ask Mardy when he wants to serve dessert and coffee." "Will do." Andy took the wash basin out back and dumped the water next to the small vegetable garden Mardy had planted one day on a whim. They'd never actually gotten many vegetables from it, but they still tended it every now and then. He heard laughter from the open kitchen door and smiled, knowing that it was Mardy who was laughing. He headed back inside and set the wash basin aside before following the laughter into the dining room where everyone was having slices of pie with cream and cups of coffee. Mardy held out a plate for him with a slice of both apple and mincemeat pie. He sat down as Sebastien pushed a cup of coffee towards him and he joined the conversation. Mardy waved goodbye to the twins, Robby, James and Tomas as they were the last to leave and he headed into the kitchen to finish cleaning up, but found Andy had already finished it. "Andy," he said reprovingly, "I was going to do that!"Andy grinned at him and set the last dish in the cupboard. "Too bad. Already done." He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Mardy, leaning back enough to stare into blue eyes. "Well, how do you think our first Christmas together has gone?" "I think it was the best day ever," Mardy replied, smiling brightly. "Thank you for making it such a wonderful day." "I didn't do much, Mardy. You did all the work on that fine meal." "Don't play down your part in making this a great day for me. It was my first real Christmas ever and that's thanks to you." Andy smiled and nodded. "I'm glad that I made it a good day for you. Now, you still have some presents to open." Grinning like a little boy, Mardy bounced in place and they headed into the living room together. Mardy pulled all the little gifts off the tree and sat down in front of the fireplace, but before he opened any of them, he bounced to his feet and ran upstairs, leaving Andy staring after him. When he came back, he was holding a large box. "I had Sebastien and Richard run to the general store today while you were at your office. I know you've been eyeing this for a while, but you'd never buy it for yourself..." Mardy shrugged and sat down at Andy's feet, settling the box on Andy's lap. "Open it." Andy laughed softly and lifted the lid, frowning at the gun nestled in newspaper. "I have a gun, Fishy." "Yeah, I know, but... this is a different gun. I saw you looking at it in the catalog when we were ordering furniture for this place and..." Mardy shrugged. "You do like it, don't you?" he asked worriedly.Andy stared down at the gun and smiled, looking into Mardy's eyes. "I love it. You're right; I never would've gotten myself a new gun because I'm so used to my Colt. But I like this gun. I always wanted a Smith & Wesson." "Good. Then I got you the right thing." "What I want to know is if you didn't order it in advance, how'd you get it? Andre doesn't usually carry weapons in the store?" "Apparently, one of the farmers had ordered it, but never came in to pick it up. I'd seen it the last time I was in ordering liquor for the saloon, but didn't think much of it. Andre's got a two week hold limit on ordered products, so, since it'd been quite a while, I asked them to see if it was still there and it was. And I had said they should get it if it was still there and they did." Mardy beamed, proud of his sneaking something past the very astute Andy. Andy laughed and reached down, hugging Mardy tightly. "I love it. Thank you, Fishy." Andy gestured to the still wrapped packages in a pile on the floor. "Would you open those already?" Mardy giggled and turned to his presents, leaning against Andy's leg as he began opening the pile of presents. Once he was done, he took in all the carved pieces-- most were of animals, but one was a miniature of their house, each detail hand-carved into all of the wooden pieces and one was a carving of Mardy looking beautiful, even to himself and Mardy never thought of himself as beautiful. Mardy was astonished at the level of detail in the pieces and said so to Andy. "I've got a lot of time as Sheriff," Andy replied, trying to shrug off the amount of work that had gone into the pieces. "Not like I'm that busy, so I've spent time learning how to make those. I thought you could take the one of the house with you to the hotel, so when you stay there, you'll always have a piece of home with you." Mardy nodded and hugged Andy's leg. "Thank you, Andy. These are perfect. I love them." "Well, we should head up to bed." "Do we have to go up yet? Can't we just sit here for a while?" Andy reached down, running his fingers through Mardy's hair. "Sure we can." And they settled into silence, both of them thinking over the day and how much it had meant to each of them in their own way to spend the day together and with their friends. As they sat there, watching the fire and thinking, Andy continued petting Mardy as Mardy clung to him and rubbed his cheek along Andy's pant leg. Neither man realized what they were doing, they were just comfortable in each other's presence. Grinning suddenly, Andy realized just how far they'd come. He could easily remember the fear and something very like hatred in Mardy when Andy had first met him and the way Mardy had unwillingly offered himself to the Ranger. And even the first few weeks after he'd killed Patrick and they were on their own, Mardy had still been afraid of him, even when the blue eyed man had clung to him. But now, Mardy willingly touched him and hugged him with no sign of fear visible. Andy knew there were moments when his friend was still scared, but they showed up less and less. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Within minutes he was asleep, unaware he was still petting Mardy and also that Mardy was sleeping as well. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The holidays were behind them and they'd settled into a regular routine. Mardy moved into the saloon so he could keep a closer eye on the goings on. Andy was content to live in the Sheriff's office, since the house was too big to stay in all by himself. He and Tomas had tried to be together for a while, but it was too hard on both men, with Andy going crazy trying to get out to the ranch as much as possible, but Tomas had never really tried to come into town. So, Andy had broken things off completely and Tomas had seemed content with his decision. After he'd broken things off with Tomas, Andy had felt better about himself, knowing he'd made the right decision, but he did miss the companionship of having another man in his bed. He didn't mind though, because he liked the friendships he'd formed with the twins, Robby and James as well as with Lleyton.Sebastien and Richard were in and out of town, spending a couple of weeks in Bluebonnet, before they'd head to other small towns and spend a few weeks away. They'd become the preachers for pretty much the entire area, which worked well for all of the towns. Even though it was nearing the end of February, winter had yet to really set into the area. There had been a few cold days, but no true winter as yet. Andy wasn't sure winter would ever come to their small town, but had been assured by several of the nearby farmers that it was only a matter of time before they were slammed by a horrible winter storm. Andy stepped out of his office, holding a piece of wood he was trying to carve in the shape of a wolf he'd once seen on his travels as a Ranger. He'd heard something from across the street, but glancing over at the saloon, he didn't see anything. He frowned and set the half-carved wood just inside the door and strapped both his Colt and his Smith & Wesson to his hips before strutting across the street. As soon as he was inside the building, he knew something was wrong, though everyone looked perfectly normal. He glanced at the bar and noticed Mardy wasn't there. He gazed around the room and realized Mardy wasn't anywhere in sight and there was no noise from the kitchen. He narrowed his eyes, knowing that Mardy always made noise when he was in the kitchen. Most of the men sitting in the bar weren't looking at him, and that too was unusual. He looked hard at one of the men until the man looked at him and flicked his eyes towards Mardy's room, then back to his beer. Andy nodded and started towards Mardy's room, realizing almost too late that the man had been too quick to help. He had his guns out before he'd turned around and they were cocked and ready when he turned to face the two men standing almost on top of him. "Gentlemen. Something I can help you with?"The two outlaws cursed at him and he just quirked his eyebrows up. "Well?" "You can kill us, Roddick, but your little whore is gonna be just as dead," the shorter of the two men said. Andy shook his head and lifted both guns, not even aiming as he pulled the trigger and sent both men crashing to the floor with the back of their skulls missing. He then turned to the man who had "helped" him just a few seconds before. "Now, we all know I'm quick to pull the trigger. So, you're gonna tell me what I want to hear and I'm going to make it as quick and painless for you as I did your buddies." He glanced at the rest of the men in the room. "And if any of you are with this particular gang and try to shoot me, let's just say that I'm a quicker draw than any of you. I've had a target between my eyes for the last two years, easy, and I'm still standing. None of the men who've tried to draw down on me are. They're all dead and buried." No one moved and Andy smirked as he turned back to the bad guy. "Now, where is my friend?" "Upstairs. Last room in the hallway. There are three men in there with him." "And how many of your buddies are still here in this very room?" Andy asked. "None. There were only six of us. You killed the other two that had been left down here." The man's eyes flickered slightly and Andy shook his head, turning and shooting the three men coming towards him. "No more lies. How many more?""Alex, don't you dare!" one of the men in the room snarled. Andy turned towards the voice and fired, turning back to man called Alex. "Well, Alex? I'll kill every man in this room if I have to. I don't have a problem with killing innocents if it means I get to kill the bad guys too." Alex closed his eyes and shook his head. "Won't tell you." "Goodbye, Alex." Andy fired a shot between Alex's eyes and turned to the room. "Anyone else want to die?" he asked, heading for the staircase. No one moved and as Andy disappeared down the hallway, he heard chairs scraping back and boots running for the doors. He took a deep breath and crept down the hallway, knocking in the last door, moving out of the way as two shotgun blasts took out the door. He aimed into the room, only catching a quick glimpse of Mardy in the corner of the room and a girl on the bed before he'd shot two of the men. He had both guns trained on the other man as he stepped through the mostly destroyed door. "Well now, who do we have here?" he asked, tilting his head to the side and tossing the Colt to Mardy. "You okay, Fishy?" he asked before taking a good look at the only bad guy left."Yeah. They didn't hurt me. Not in that way." Andy heard Mardy sigh, but he didn't look over at his friend. "They were raping Amelie and that's when I walked in. I tried to stop them, but I didn't have a gun on me." "You gotta wear your gun more often, Fishy," Andy said softly, eyes and gun trained on the outlaw who was shaking now. The man's gun was lying on the floor and his pants were down around his knees. "What's your name, boy?""Ivan." "Ivan what?" "Ljubicic." Andy sighed and shook his head. "Normally, I'd just lock ya up and wait for a few days before hanging you, but... you threatened my Fishy. No one hurts Mardy or his girls." Andy aimed right in the middle of Ivan's bald forehead and squeezed the trigger as the man begged for his life. He heard Amelie scream, but ignored her as he stared unfeelingly at the now dead body. He holstered his gun, then went to Ivan's body and nudged it over. He stood there for a few minutes, not even realizing the screams had tapered off until someone touched his shoulder. "Andy? Are you all right?" Andy nodded, not looking at Mardy. "I'm fine. I'll go get Andre... you might want to be in the kitchen when he comes to get the bodies." "There were a lot of their men out there, Andy." "A bunch are dead and the rest fled." Andy turned away from the dead body at least and stared into worried blue eyes. "I'm okay, Mardy. I really am. Just... the thought that you'd been hurt scared the hell out of me." Mardy hugged him and they walked downstairs together. The saloon was completely empty, except for the girls who were all huddled behind the bar. Mardy headed for the girls as Andy went to get Andre to bury the bodies. "Andy?" Mardy called after him. Andy turned, eyebrows raised in question. "Thank you for saving us," he said with a smile. Andy winked and then left. He was back in record time with Andre and together, they carried the dead bodies to the back of Andre's store where Andre kept the coffins he made. "Ya know, Sheriff, I don't think I've ever had this much work in my life." "Well, if all these bastards would stay the hell out of my town, you wouldn't have as much work to do," Andy replied, grinning at the general store owner.Andre laughed and waved Andy away. Andy went back to the saloon to check on Mardy and the girls. One of the girls was in the middle of the saloon, washing up one of the puddles of blood. Andy looked at her for a moment, but couldn't for the life of him remember her name. "Where's Mardy?" "With Amelie," the girl said softly, glancing towards the stairs. "She's very badly hurt. That man... he..." "I know. Mardy told me what he did." "Sheriff?" she said, voice shaking slightly. Andy just looked at her and she blushed slightly. "Thank you for killing him. He had threatened to come after the rest of us when he was done with her." Andy nodded at her and climbed the stairs, finding Mardy tucking Amelie into her bed. "Amelie, don't worry about it. Andy will help protect you. I promise you that." Amelie nodded and rolled over and Mardy glanced towards the door, smiling at Andy. 'Be with you in a moment,' he mouthed to the Sheriff. Andy nodded and pointed down; hoping Mardy understood that he'd be waiting downstairs.Andy picked up the second bucket that was sitting by the kitchen door and a sponge and started washing the floor. He was kneeling in a puddle of bloody water when Mardy came downstairs and just blinked at him. He smiled sort of sheepishly and shrugged. "I made the mess, so I figured I could help clean up." Mardy laughed softly and shook his head. "Okay then. Want a drink?" "Yeah, I think I could use a drink." Andy dropped the sponge in the bucket and wiped his hands on his pants as he sat on the barstool. "Whiskey." "Of course." Mardy poured Andy a glass, and then poured himself one. "I'm not sure she's gonna be okay. I mean, physically, she seems all right now, but..." Mardy shook his head. "It's not gonna be an easy road for her." "You survived and with you by her side, helping her out, so will she." Mardy smiled slightly at that. "Not entirely sure I've survived yet. I'm still on edge a lot of the time. Especially when I see the girls going upstairs with their patrons." He sighed. "But, at least I know that most of the time when the girls go upstairs, it's with patrons of their choosing and usually someone to be trusted." Andy nodded, not knowing what to say. He still thought that Mardy should send the girls away, but he knew his friend wasn't ready to let go just yet. So, he stayed silent, drinking his whiskey as Mardy stared around the empty room. After several minutes of silence, Andy asked, "Should we finish cleaning up down here?" Mardy blinked at him, almost like he was coming out of a dream. "I'm sorry, what?" "Should we finish cleaning up down here?" Andy repeated, wondering what Mardy had really been seeing. Mardy shook his head. "Why don't you head on back to your office? Don't you have to do paperwork when you kill people?" Andy laughed at that and slid off the stool. "Yeah, but I can help you clean up the blood." "No. The girls have the bedroom and between you and Alicia, this room is mostly clean. I'll just get some clean water and finish it up. You go clean up, because you're nearly as covered in blood as the floor was." Andy smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Mardy. I'll swing back by this evening for my supper." Mardy waved as he went through the kitchen doors, carrying two buckets with him. Andy sighed and looked over the floor before he headed back to his office. He stripped off his clothes after filling the copper washtub he'd brought from home and slipped into the warm water, letting it soothe his muscles before he washed himself off. He had just stood up and was in the process of drying himself off when the door opened and a familiar looking blonde stepped through the door. He narrowed his eyes and grabbed his gun. "Can I help you?" he asked, cocking the gun. The stranger's eyes widened as he stared at the gun. At least, Andy thought he was staring at the gun. He couldn't be entirely sure where the blonde's green eyes were focused, since he had the gun near his waist and he was still nude. "I... I am looking for Mardy Fish?" the man said softly, swallowing hard."Why?" Andy asked, still not putting the gun up, but he uncocked it and let it dangle at his side. The man before him, while as tall as Tomas, wasn't imposing in the least and wasn't armed, so Andy knew he really didn't have view him as a threat. "I knew him in Austin. I managed to get away from... our owners and I'd heard that he has... he owns a business here?"Andy raised an eyebrow. "What's your name?" "Joachim Johansson." Andy nodded. "Would you be willing to let me lock you up while I go talk to Mardy?" Joachim's eyes widened even further. "I... I suppose so." Smiling, Andy put his gun away and finished drying off before tugging on his clothes. "Have a seat by the desk, Joachim. I'll go talk to Mardy, but I don't want to give him to you, just in case." Joachim nodded and sat down by the desk, looking around the small office. Andy smiled and went across the street, watching Mardy finish cleaning off the floor. "Fishy?" "Hey, Andy." Mardy looked up and smiled. "You're all clean." "Absolutely. A man came to see me looking for you." Andy watched the fear flit through Mardy's eyes. "Name's Joachim Johansson." The fear disappeared and Mardy stood up. "He's here? Is he okay?" "So you do know him?" "Yeah. He's... he was one... he was John McEnroe's property. Usually played piano at the bar we both worked. John didn't like to share him very much, but he really liked to hurt him. How?" "He said he got away. Didn't say much else." Andy shrugged. "You want me to bring him over or..." Andy trailed off as Mardy looked down at himself. "Why don't I take him some food and give you some time to clean up?" "You don't mind?" "Of course not, Mardy. But... if he's... do you really want him staying here?" "I want to help him." Mardy smiled slightly. "I want to help him by giving him something he can do outside of whoring. Maybe Sebastien and Richie... I mean, I know they've been looking for someone to help them." Mardy shook his head. "I don't know, but I do know that if he wants out-- and obviously he does or he wouldn't have come all by himself from Austin-- then I have to help him if I can." Andy nodded. "Go on and get a bath. I'll take him some food and talk to him." Mardy thanked him and finished wiping up the floor before he went to take a bath. Andy let himself into the kitchen and fixed both himself and Joachim a plate of food before walking back across to his office. He handed a plate to Joachim and then settled himself behind his desk. As he ate, he talked to the tall blonde. "Mardy's gonna take a bath. I sort of... had a shootout of sorts in his saloon, so he was cleaning up the last of the blood." Andy gestured to the bathtub still sitting in the middle of his office. "I was just cleaning up myself from helping him clean the floors. But he'll be over in just a bit." "And did he explain who I am?" "As a matter of fact he did." Andy narrowed his eyes when Joachim blushed. "Don't worry, Joachim. I'm not going to judge you for what you did or what you were. A wise friend once told me that it's not our place to judge and I firmly believe that." Andy smiled and finished off his food, glancing over at Joachim's plate. "Not hungry?" "This is for me?" Joachim asked, his eyes going wide. Andy nodded, silently cursing the McEnroes for treating the people in their care so badly. "All of it?" "Every last bite." Andy forced himself to smile and he stood up, gesturing for Joachim to stay seated when the blonde started to get up. "No, you stay and eat. I've got to empty the tub. I'll be right back, okay?" Joachim nodded, but didn't start to eat until Andy was out of the office. Andy knew this because he had peeked in the window after he'd carried the tub outdoors. He closed his eyes against the pain of watching the blonde scarf down his food like he'd never get another meal and Andy realized that that had probably been the way they'd lived. He knew the McEnroes had been bastards, but he'd never thought they wouldn't feed the people they claimed they owned. Andy dumped the tub out and checked through the window again. Joachim was still eating, so Andy hung the tub up outside to let it dry and sat down on the steps leading up to his office with his half-carved wolf and his knife. He whistled while he worked, waiting for the blonde to either finish his meal or join him. He also knew that he might be waiting until Mardy came out of the saloon before he saw Joachim again, but he didn't want the taller man to worry that he'd hurt him. He was almost done with the carving by the time the door to his office opened up. "Are you coming back inside?" Joachim asked in almost a whisper. Andy looked up at him and shook his head. "Nah, I'm enjoying the day. According to the local farmers, we're not gonna have many more like it, especially since it's nearly the end of February and we haven't had much in the way of winter." After a few moments hesitation, Joachim joined Andy on the step, looking at the small carving. "That's beautiful." "Thank you." Andy smiled over at him and added a few more details then held the wolf out to Joachim. "Here." "What?" Andy continued to hold out the wolf. "It's for you. A present." Joachim frowned at him, and then he shifted so that he was kneeling before Andy. As he reached for Andy's pants, Andy stood up and jumped back out of reach. "No, Joachim. I'm not giving it to you as payment. I'm giving it to you because you like it. It's a present. No strings attached. It's for you." "For me? But... no one is ever nice without a reason." Joachim stared at him suspiciously."Mardy is." "Mardy's different. He knows what it's like... how horrible they were to us..." "I know, too. Maybe I don't have first hand experience, but I've held Mardy while he cried. I've hugged him while he had nightmares and didn't want me near him." Andy set the wolf in front of Joachim and then backed up a little more. "It's yours. Really. I don't expect anything in return." Joachim stared up at him, mistrust and a tiny spark of hope in his eyes. Andy smiled for that spark of hope and hoped that Joachim wouldn't set Mardy back with his mistrust. He winked at the blonde, then lifted the tub from where it was hanging on the outer wall and carried it inside to hang it on its normal hook just inside one of the cells. Joachim followed him, sitting back in the same chair he'd sat in before. Andy peeked at him over his shoulder, happy to see that Joachim was holding the wolf. But he was slightly surprised to see Joachim staring at it as if he'd never seen such a thing. "What is it?" Joachim finally asked, confirming Andy's suspicion that he didn't know what the animal was. "It's a wolf. I saw him once on my travels when I was still with the Rangers and I've never been able to get him out of my head. He was the most beautiful thing, all wild and free..." Andy shrugged. "Do you like him?" Joachim nodded smiling up at Andy. "Thank you." "You're welcome," Andy said softly, sitting back behind his desk as they continued to wait for Mardy. Andy watched as Mardy led Joachim across the street and they were talking in low voices. He started back into his office, stopping when Andre came jogging up. "Sheriff, I need to talk to you.""What is it, Andre?" Andy said with a sigh. Andre glanced back towards his store, then darted his gaze up and down the street. "I... uh, I need your help in the store." Andy narrowed his eyes and nodded. "Be right there," he said ducking into his office and reloading both weapons. He then followed Andre to his store, where he wasn't the least bit surprised to see four of the men from Mardy's saloon standing there, guns out. Andy smirked slightly; eyes flitting over each of them before falling on the one he guessed was the leader. "Andre, remind me to shoot your ass later for this." Andre swallowed audibly as the leader brought out a pretty blonde and put his gun to her head. "She's my niece, Andy, I didn't have a choice," he said, nervously twitching before he left. Andy stared at the somewhat familiar looking girl, trying to figure out where he had seen her before, but he recognized the man before he recognized her. "You were the McEnroes' bartender," he said finally, taking in everything about the men standing before him. The man just smirked. "Damn straight. And boy, you have a hell of a surprise coming to you." Rolling his eyes, Andy drew his gun and blew a hole through the man's forehead, causing the girl to be thrown backwards as he flew. The other men didn't have enough time to react before Andy had shot all of the rest of them. He looked them over to make sure they were all dead, because he knew he hadn't gotten head or heart shots on all of them, but a quick examination showed that he had taken out two of the three other men's throats and the last man was indeed still alive. Andy pointed down at him and shook his head. "When are you all going to learn not to come into my town and try to start trouble? I always finish what you bastards start." He put a bullet into the man's head and walked over to the girl, helping her to her feet. He just sort blinked as she threw herself into his arms, babbling at him. He picked her up and carried her outside, and he was surprised to see Mardy standing there, gun out, cocked and ready. Joachim was standing behind him worriedly. Andy smiled and set the girl down and she ran to Andre's side. "Did you come to rescue me, Mardy?" "Andre came and told me what was going on. I thought you could use some help, since it was four on one." Mardy shook his head and smiled slightly. "Should've known you didn't need help for a measly four men." Andy laughed and crossed to him, kissing Mardy's cheek. He winked at Joachim over Mardy's shoulder, and then turned to where the girl was clinging to Andre. "I guess maybe even he has some redeeming qualities." Mardy chuckled and hugged him from behind. "Maybe." Andy turned to smile at him, before he walked over to Andre and the girl. "She gonna be okay?" "I think so. Thank you, Sheriff. I know you don't like me... and you probably like me even less now, but... Kim's my only family and... I don't know what I'd do without her." Tilting his head to the side, Andy pulled the girl away from Andre and looked closely at her. He opened his mouth to ask her name, but heard Mardy say, "Kimmy?" like he couldn't believe she was here. He turned, dimly recalling Patrick yelling for a girl named Clijsters that looked remarkably like the one in front of him. And judging from the way she'd flinched when Mardy said her name, this was indeed the same girl. Before he could ask any questions though, he was being pushed out of the way by Mardy and Joachim. He stepped back, glaring at Andre. "You do know what she was and who she was with, don't you?" he hissed as he grabbed the older man and pulled him away from the three former whores. Andre frowned and shook his head. "She sang in a bar down in Austin. That's all." Andy just snorted and turned back to watch the interaction between the three people before him. He walked up, touching her shoulder. "Hey, Kim. I'm Andy. Andy Roddick. Are you really okay?" Kim nodded, sniffling slightly. "I... Uncle Andre doesn't know," she said softly. "I... I knew he would never go against men as powerful as the McEnroes, so..." "The men that were here today... they were after Mardy, weren't they?" "No. They came for me and Joachim. Everyone pretty much assumed that Mardy was dead or long gone." "Except me," Joachim said softly and Andy looked back to see him holding tight to Mardy's hand. "I knew he was here, because... my sister works for him." Mardy nodded slowly in answer to Andy's unasked questions. Andy shook his head slowly and patted Kim's shoulder. "Okay. Well, welcome to Bluebonnet." He turned, walking past Andre into his office. He heard Mardy say something to the other two before catching up to him. "I'm not angry, Mardy. Just... confused," he said softly as he and Mardy sat down at his desk. "Confused about?" "Everything. I don't know. I just don't like them suddenly showing up and I don't like that the McEnroes had people who followed them so blindly." Andy shrugged, then got up and poured them both a cup of coffee. "Is Joachim going to work for you?" "No. I won't let him whore himself out. Not in my place at any rate. I'm going to talk to Sebastien and Richie when they come through and see if they can find him work, either with them or in one of the nearby towns. I like Joachim, always did, but I don't want him here." He sighed and glanced towards the door. "As for Kim, she's Andre's niece, so I know she won't tell him what she was. If she comes asking for a job, I know it won't be as a whore. She might ask for a job cleaning or cooking, or maybe even singing, but not selling herself, so I might give her a job." "Okay. Look, I don't want to presume to tell you how to run your business, but..." "I know you don't approve of the whores, Andy. I know you think they're the reason I'm not completely better. But believe it or not, I can handle this.""I believe you can." Andy smiled and hugged Mardy, then shooed him out of the office. "Go on, get out of here. Go back to work." Mardy laughed softly and kissed Andy's cheek. "Going. I love you, Andy," he said before shutting the door behind him. Andy rolled his eyes and sat down behind his desk, picking up a piece of wood and his carving knife. He was halfway through the carving when his door opened up and Kim came through, watching him with nervous eyes. "Sheriff?"Andy raised his eyebrow and set the carving aside. "Yes, Kim?" "I just... can you not say anything to my uncle?" "Of course. Look, I don't want your uncle knowing about Mardy and if I told him about you, I'd have to explain how I met you. So, don't worry about it. I will keep your secret." Kim smiled. "Thank you." "No problem." He paused and caught her staring at him. "Are you going to look for work or are you just keeping house for Andre?" "I'll probably just keep house for him. I don't really want to work and there are not many places here where I could make an honest living." "Mardy would hire you if you wanted to cook or clean." Nodding, Kim said, "I know. He told me. He's very sweet, but truthfully, I don't think I could work around the... girls. Not and keep my sanity." Andy smiled and gestured to one of the chairs near his desk. "Have a seat." She sat and he leaned on his desk, smiling slightly. "I'm actually glad to hear that. You seem like a nice girl, really very sweet, but I don't want you and Joachim around Mardy. He doesn't need reminders of the McEnroes. It's bad enough he's keeping the whores he's got on at the saloon. I don't want him adding people who will forcibly remind him of his past." "I'm actually planning on staying out of everyone's way. If Uncle Andre would allow it, I'd try to go back east. I don't think he'll let me though." "Ask him. Tell him the men you used to work for may still come after you, even if they won't." Something like fear flitted over her face but was gone so quickly, Andy couldn't swear that he really did see it so he didn't say anything about it. "Tell him you think you should go away, just so that what happened today doesn't happen again." Kim nodded. "I'll try that. Thank you, Sheriff." She stood up, eyes focused intently on him. "I feel like I owe you for saving me... and for being so nice to me." "Just go and be happy. That's the only type of payment I want," Andy said, trying his best not to look as disgusted as he felt. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd hidden his feelings as well as he thought he had when she looked away. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't think of anything that wouldn't have sounded condescending or stupid, so he stayed silent, watching her walk away.A short while later the door to his office reopened and he looked up from his carving. "Can I help... Mischa," he murmured, standing up to greet the Ranger. "How've you been?" "Good." Mikhail crossed to him and they hugged before pulling. "And you?" "Better every day." Andy noticed a blonde standing in the doorway, looking uncomfortable. "And who's your friend?" "This is Igor Andreev. He's... well, he's my new partner." Mikhail blushed slightly, not meeting Andy's gaze. "Anyhow, we're here because I'd heard that some of the McEnroe gang is on their way up here, looking for a couple of the whores that ran away from them." "They were here," Andy said with a grin. "They're dead now." Mikhail grinned back. "Why am I surprised? I should've known you'd be able to take care of them." "Well, I try. Is that the only reason that you've come?" "Well, I wanted to show Igor this part of the country. It's very beautiful here and I thought he'd appreciate it." Mikhail shook his head and turned. "Igor, this is Andy Roddick." Igor's eyes widened and he looked Andy over. "This is Andy Roddick? He doesn't... I mean, I expected him to be bigger." "Disappoints me, too, sometimes," Andy said still grinning as he stuck his hand out. "Nice to meet you, Igor." He turned his attention back to Mikhail for a moment. "Is he a bad guy like your last partner?" Igor laughed softly as Mikhail shook his head. "No, Igor's actually been a Ranger for a while. He knows the drill, which I should've realized that Dima didn't and it should've been a clue." Nodding, Andy tilted his head. "Well, I can show you to the saloon across the road if you'd like to bunk down for the night." Mikhail looked over at Igor who nodded ever so slightly. Mikhail turned back to Andy and said, "We'd appreciate that. Is Mardy still working there?" "Owns the place still, but yeah." Mikhail smiled slightly. "I was trying to describe Mardy to Igor, but really, words just don't do him justice." "No, they don't." Andy stood and walked around his desk, gesturing to the door before leading the other two men through. He stopped and pointed slightly to the saloon. "But first glance does do him some sort of justice," he said. Mardy was standing on the walkway in front of the saloon, talking animatedly with Sebastien and Richard. Dressed in a green shirt, neat jeans and a cowboy hat almost identical to Andy's, there was no denying Mardy's utter beauty, even to a man who didn't find him attractive in a sexual way. Andy glanced over at Igor and tried not to laugh. "I think your partner has just been stunned stupid," Andy said in a whisper to Mikhail before he realized that Mikhail had probably never seen Mardy looking so carefree and animated and that was probably why the brunette was also looking very dumbstruck.He couldn't contain his laughter, which caused Mardy, Sebastien and Richard to look over their way. Igor muttered something in a foreign language and Mikhail just inhaled sharply at the stunning blue of Mardy's eyes. Mardy raised an eyebrow at Andy, said something to Sebastien and Richard before he jogged across the road and climbed up the steps to the walkway in front of Andy's office. "Mikhail, it's good to see you again," he said softly, shaking Mikhail's hand lightly. Mikhail nodded, before visibly snapping out of his daze. "This is my partner, Igor Andreev. Igor, this is Mardy, the man I was trying to tell you about." Mardy blushed at that and pushed a strand of hair back behind his ear as he held out his hand. "It's very nice to meet you, Igor. Are you two staying in town long?" Igor didn't respond, just shook Mardy's hand. Mikhail laughed softly and forced Igor to let Mardy go, then answered, "Well, probably a couple of days. There was a problem that we'd come up here specifically for, but Andy took care of it." "Oh, the outlaws he shot?" Mardy asked, smiling at Andy. "Yep." "Well then, you two come across to the saloon whenever you're ready and I'll set you up with a room and a good, hot meal. Andy," he said, tipping his hat at his best friend before rejoining Sebastien and Richard. Andy smiled and gestured across the road. "Should we go get a drink and a room for you two?" Mikhail and Igor nodded and followed Andy across the road. After they'd gotten two rooms, Andy sat in Mikhail's and watched the Ranger unpack. "I thought you said you two were partners." "Not that kind of partner," Mikhail said softly. "Just my partner in the Rangers." "Oh. But you like him in that way." Mikhail nodded. "I don't think he's the slightest bit interested in me though, so I don't push him." "Good idea, I guess," Andy said, standing up and hugging Mikhail. "But maybe you should tell him." "Maybe some day I will," Mikhail replied. "Maybe some day I will." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- As May neared its end, Andy sat out on the front stoop of his office, carving yet another animal-- a deer this time-- and watched the stage coach roll into town. He waved at Pete and glanced down the road to see Andre and Lleyton both coming out of their buildings. He smiled at how much their little town was becoming home to so many people, even those that didn't stay all the time and set the carving down near his chair before crossing the road and helping Sebastien, Richard and Joachim off the stage. "Good to see you again," he said, hugging all three men. "Mardy's got your rooms all ready, if you wanna head in." He turned back to help Pete unload the stage of their luggage and caught sight of two horses riding into town. "Well now, town's about to burst," he murmured to himself as Pete drove the stage and its horses towards the stables. Mikhail and Igor pulled to a stop in front of Andy and tipped their hats at him."Andy, does Mardy have lunch ready?" Igor asked, glancing into the saloon. "Most likely," Andy replied, smiling up at them. "What brings you two to town?" Mikhail glanced at Igor, then down at Andy. "Well, we're on the trail of a couple of bandits. We think they're just outside of town here." "Really?" Andy frowned, not liking that outlaws could be in his town and he not aware of it."Yeah, their names are David Nalbandian and Mariano Puerta." Mikhail dismounted, before he glanced up at Igor. "Do you want to head over to the stables and rub down our horses while I talk to Andy?" Igor looked from Andy to Mikhail, then nodded and led Mikhail's horse behind as he rode down the road. Andy looked at Mikhail who shook his head. "Can we talk in your office?" "Sure." Andy walked behind Mikhail as the Ranger stalked towards his building, then let them both in and slammed the door behind them. "What's wrong?" "Igor," Mikhail said, glaring at Andy. "He's... he's in love with your Fishy." "And?" "Aren't you angry that he's going to try to pursue your Fishy?" "Not really. Mardy's not interested... besides, Mardy knows you have feelings for him, so he'd never do that to you." Andy shook his head and smiled. "And I think the only one with a problem is you, because you won't tell him how you feel. Am I wrong?" Mikhail sighed and dropped into the chair in front of Andy's desk. "No, you're not. Dammit, I'm in love with Igor and he barely notices me." "I'm sorry to hear that, Mischa," Andy said softly, kneeling in front of the Ranger. He touched Mikhail's thigh and gave it a quick squeeze as the door opened up. Only Andy caught the look of hatred and jealousy that Igor shot at him before he managed to blank out his expression. He fought not to smile. Mikhail still hadn't noticed the other Ranger standing in the doorway, so Andy decided he'd help out his friend. He leaned up and kissed Mikhail softly, letting the other man take over the kiss. Andy practically crawled into Mikhail's lap as their kiss grew more and more heated. "Don't let me interrupt!" Igor snapped, slamming the door on his way out. Mikhail jumped and pushed Andy off him. Andy smiled and patted Mikhail's thigh. "Trust me when I say that him wanting Fishy isn't a problem, Mischa." Narrowing his gaze, Mikhail looked at Andy. "You... you knew he was there!" "Yes, I did. I wanted him to see what he was missing, because when he came in, he looked very angry that I was touching you." Andy smirked and stood up, leaning back against his desk. "Have you ever considered that maybe he's talked about pursuing Mardy because you haven't told him how you feel?" "You mean, like maybe he's waiting for me to make the first move?" "Exactly." Andy pulled Mikhail to his feet and dragged the Ranger across the road to the saloon. "There. He's sitting alone. I'll go tell Mardy you two need one room." Andy winked and pushed Mikhail towards Igor as he walked up to the bar and waved to get Mardy's attention. "What can I get for you, Sheriff?" Mardy said with a grin."How 'bout a whiskey and lunch for me and two whiskeys, two lunches, and one room for Igor and Mikhail?" "One room? I didn't think they were together like that?" "They aren't." Andy shrugged and glanced over to the table where Mikhail was talking spiritedly while Igor just watched him. "But, Mischa's finally going to say something about his feelings." "Good for him. I hope it works out for the two of them." "And how's Joachim doing with Sebastien and Richard?" Andy asked, stepping around the bar and pouring two glasses of whiskey. He started to walk the glasses over when he noticed Mardy watching him with a bemused expression on his face. He stopped and realized what he'd just done. "Oh hell. I'm sorry, Mardy." "Don't be. I like that you're as at home here as you are." Mardy laughed as he shooed Andy away. "Go serve them their drinks while I go get their food." Andy smiled sheepishly and walked over to the Rangers' table and set the drinks down. He turned to walk away, but one of them grabbed his wrist, so he followed the hand to its owner. "Can I help you, Igor?" "I... May I talk to you? Alone? Outside?" "Of course." Andy walked outside and waited for Igor to join him. Once the blonde was leaning against the saloon next to him, Andy glanced over him. "Well?" "I... You and Mischa were lovers?" "You should really ask Mischa that." "He just says you had sex." Andy smiled. "That would be true. We had sex once. That's all. But we're friends." "So, you and he never... I mean, you weren't together?" "No." Narrowing his gaze, Andy asked, "Why so curious?" "Because I thought you two were together and that was why I didn't try... what I mean is-" Andy cut him off with a grin. "I get what you're saying. So, now that you know that he and I aren't a couple, and he knows that you don't have a thing for my Fishy, what are you planning to do with him?" "Wait. He thought I liked Mardy?" "Well, yeah. That's why he never tried for anything more with you." "Oh." Igor closed his eyes and shook his head. "He was right then." "About?" "He and I are both utter idiots." Igor smiled slightly. "I guess I do have a tendency to talk about Mardy, but it was only because I'd never seen anyone who was so..." Andy laughed as Igor trailed off. "Yeah, Mardy is that. And it helps that he's so damn sweet and giving and caring.""That only makes him more beautiful.""Exactly." Andy smiled and looked back into the saloon where he caught Mikhail and Mardy both sitting together and watching them through the window. "We're being watched, which means we should probably head back inside." Igor turned and smiled as well. "Yes. And... Will Mardy give us one room?" "I told him to, so yeah, most likely." "Good. Very good." Igor walked past Andy and headed straight for Mikhail, while Andy walked over to the bar. He sat down on one of the stools and glanced back in time to see Mardy walking towards him. Mardy slid an arm around his waist and leaned against his side. "You did good," he said softly in Andy's ear. Andy nodded and turned his head to kiss Mardy's cheek. "What were you and Mischa talking about?" "Igor." Mardy pulled back and glanced towards the table. "I'll go get you some food." "Thanks, Fishy." Andy sat back and watched the room until Mardy brought him his food. Andy was walking back across the road to his office when he heard the heavy clomping of hooves. He looked up and managed to get up on his front stoop just in time to miss being trampled by one of the twins. "What's wrong, Mike?" he asked, having finally figured out how to tell the two apart. Bob always wore a beaded necklace that James had given him for one of their anniversaries, so he was easy to spot. Mike didn't wear any jewelry."Robby... he's sick... Andy... we need a doctor?!" Mike slid off the horse, nearly collapsing when he hit the ground. Andy stepped up to his side and helped him into his office. "How sick is he?" Andy asked as he poured Mike a cup of water from the pitcher at his desk. Mike took a gulp of the water and tried to calm his breathing. "He's running a fever. He's sweating through his clothes. Andy, he needs help!" Andy patted Mike on the shoulder, and then started for the door. "I'll have Lleyton telegraph San Angelo and see if they can't send their doc right away." Mike nodded, still trying to calm down. Andy stared at him for a minute before jogging down the road to the telegraph office. "Lleyton, I need you to wire San Angelo and have them send their doc. Robby's sick. I'm heading out to the ranch with Mike and see what I can do. If you could send someone with word when the doc'll get here?" Lleyton nodded and Andy ran back to his office. "Let's go," he said, pulling Mike to his feet. "I'll do what I can to help." "We need a doctor in town, Andy," Mike said as they rode back towards the ranch. "I know we do, but no one wants to come here. I've put advertisements in all the papers in Texas and no one wants to live out here." Andy sighed. "I'm still trying, but I don't know what else to do." "Reach out farther! Try back in New York or St. Louis! Anywhere! We need a doctor in town, Andy!" "I'll try that. For now, let's just get your Robby better." Mike nodded and they fell silent for the rest of the ride. Hours later, Andy stepped out into the sunshine as two riders came flying up to the house. He recognized the first one as Igor, but didn't recognize the second. "Igor!" he hailed the Ranger as they pulled to a halt in front of the house."Andy, this is the new doctor from San Pablo. He's just off the stage on his way there." "Great." Andy led the way inside and up to Robby's bedroom. "He's... I have no idea what's wrong with him. I've just been trying to keep everyone calm and thinking straight," Andy told the doctor as he let him into the room. The doctor passed him without saying a word and Andy headed back downstairs, only to find that Igor was waiting for him outside. "What's going on?" "We found the men." "Which ones?" Andy asked, and then blinked, remembering why Igor and Mischa had originally come this time. "Oh. Nalbandian and Puerta?" "Yes." Igor frowned at him. "Why didn't you just tell us you killed them?" "Because I didn't," Andy said, raising an eyebrow. "I would've told you." "They were both shot between the eyes." Igor was watching Andy's face carefully. "That's usually your style." "Yes, it is, but I didn't kill those men." "Then who did?" "I don't know." Andy shrugged. "Does it really matter? They're dead, which is what an outlaw should be." "I suppose," Igor said softly. "I'd just really like to know who killed them." "So would I," Andy replied. "I'd like to thank them." Igor shook his head. "I never really believed all the stories about how blood thirsty you are. I guess they were true." Andy snorted. "Blood thirsty? Me? No, I just like to see justice. If a man kills someone, he should be killed. Simple as that. If a man's an outlaw? Then he's likely to kill or already killed, so why not take care of the problem before it's a problem?" "And you don't think that's blood thirsty?" "How long have you been a Ranger, Igor?" Andy asked in reply. "Long enough." "No, how long?" "A little under a year, I guess." Andy shook his head. "How many men have you killed?" "Around... I don't know. Maybe twenty." "How many times have you been shot at or nearly killed?" Igor sighed. "What does it matter?" "Just answer the question." "Fine. Probably no more than ten." "Yet you've killed twice that many?" Andy smiled. "Look, individually, the men I've killed? I can't count. There's too many. The times I've been nearly shot or gutted?" He paused for a minute, mentally counting the numbers. "Not including each individual doing the shooting at me? Probably around four hundred or more. The bad guys... it's a badge of honour for them to kill a Ranger. Maybe you're just that damn lucky, or maybe you kill before they get a chance to kill you. I don't know. But I do know by the time I'd been a Ranger a year, I had over two hundred kills to my name. All outlaws. I've never shot an unarmed man and I've never shot a man who wasn't in someway a threat. Can you say the same? Because I know there aren't many Rangers out there who can honestly say that they've never shot someone by accident or shot an unarmed outlaw." "I've never shot someone by accident." "But have you shot an unarmed man?" "Yes." Andy smirked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the hitching post. "I've never, ever shot an unarmed man. And you say I'm the blood thirsty one?" "You shoot before anything else." "Not if they aren't armed. Every single kill I have has been armed. That's not blood thirsty, that's survival. Kill before being killed." Andy watched as Igor thought over his words and he could tell the moment that the Ranger agreed with him. "It's not that I'm blood thirsty, it's that I have people to protect and I can't do that if I'm dead." Igor nodded slowly. "I suppose you're right. But... did you know that you've got the most kills of any Ranger? It doesn't seem to matter how long anyone else is around, you've killed more people then they have."Shrugging, Andy uncrossed his arms and tucked his thumbs into his belt loops. "Maybe I just have more people trying to kill me than anyone else does." "Maybe." They both looked up when the door to the Bryans' house opened and the doctor came down the steps, talking to Mike. "He'll be fine. Just keep water in him and try to keep him as dry as possible. He should start to improve in a couple of days." "Thank you, Doctor," Mike said, shaking the man's hand. The doctor turned to Igor and raised an eyebrow. Igor nodded. "Let's get going, Doc. We should be able to catch up to Pete's stage if we hurry." He tipped his hat at Andy and the two took off in the direction the stage coach usually took. Andy turned to Mike and smiled. "Glad to hear he's going to be okay." "Me too. I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier, but we do need a doctor." "And I'll continue looking." Andy shrugged. "I can't do much if no one ever comes out here to take the position." "I guess not." Mike sighed and started back into the house. Andy said goodbye and went back to town. Sitting at his desk, Andy tried to write another advertisement for a doctor. He wasn't sure what to say though, so he was still puzzling over it when Mardy let himself into the office."Hey, Fishy," he said softly, glancing up. He frowned immediately and stood up. "What's wrong?" he asked, walking around the desk and approaching Mardy. "Andy... I..." Mardy was shaking when Andy pulled him in for a hug, so the Sheriff wrapped him up tighter and stroked his hand over Mardy's back, while he waited for Mardy to talk to him. "There were these men... I'd offered to go for a ride with Kim today, because she didn't want to go out on her own..." He trailed off and stayed silent for several minutes."Go on, Fishy," Andy finally prompted him."Well, I... we came across these two men and their camp. I didn't think anything of it, 'cause it's been nice out at night and I figured they were just goin' cross the country, right?" Andy nodded and kept stroking him. "Well, they sort of waved us over and were asking us where some town was-- I'd never heard of it and neither had Kim-- and then..." He fell quiet again. Andy waited him out this time though. "And then, they tried to... they pulled Kim off her horse and they... they were going to... they..." "You shot them because they tried to rape her?" Andy suggested gently. Mardy nodded, burying his face against Andy's shirt and sobbing. His entire body was shaking horribly. "Shhhh, it's okay, Mardy. You did the right thing. You stopped them for hurting her. That's the important thing." "But..." Mardy hiccupped as he pulled back. "But I killed them!" he cried, once more burying his face against Andy. Andy held him while he cried, trying to soothe him over and over, but Mardy wasn't listening, too busy crying and shaking. Andy finally had to lead Mardy over to his desk where he pulled the blue eyed man onto his lap and held him close. "Shhhh, it's okay, Fishy. It's okay," he murmured over and over again. After an hour had passed, Mardy finally calmed down enough to tell Andy every detail. It hadn't been just that Kim had been at risk, but one of the men had come after Mardy while the other went after Kim. Andy fought back a growl at that, more than glad that Mardy had killed both men, until something occurred to him. "Mardy, how did you kill them?" he asked softly, stroking his fingers through Mardy's hair. Mardy blinked at the odd question, but answered, "Bullet between the eyes." "Damn." Andy shook his head when Mardy asked what he'd done wrong and answered, "Nothing, Fishy. Just... the two men you killed, I think they were the outlaws that Mischa and Igor are here for. Igor thought I'd killed them because of the way that they'd been killed, but it sounds like the men. I'd have to go and see, but..." "Am I in trouble?" Mardy asked, clinging to Andy's arm. "Did I do something I wasn't supposed to?" "No, Fishy. Calm down. It's okay. You did exactly what you were supposed to do." Andy pet his head, then glanced up when the doors opened up. "What can I do for you?" he asked as Mikhail walked in. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd seen Igor." "He was taking the San Pablo doc to catch the stage." "Oh. Okay. Uh... did he ask you about the men we'd found?" "I didn't do it," Andy said, glancing down at Mardy. "Mardy and Kim were attacked by two men though, so I think he might've done it." "Oh." Mikhail glanced at Mardy, then back up to Andy. "Well... it's not a problem. I was just wondering if you'd gone after them without us." Andy smiled at that and shook his head, still holding Mardy in his lap. Mardy snuggled closer and Andy caught him glaring at Mikhail. Mikhail had apparently also caught the look because he said, "Well, I'm going to get out of your hair. I'll let Igor know that who did it isn't a concern. We'll probably be heading back to San Antonio in the morning. I'll... I'll talk to you later," he finally finished with, heading out. Mardy snuggled in even more and wrapped his arms around Andy's waist. "I'll be glad when they're gone." "Why?" Andy asked, still stroking Mardy's hair. Mardy shrugged. "Don't like them being here. They... I don't know. I just don't." "Well, they're leaving for a while again and who knows when they'll be coming back." Mardy nodded and then sighed. "I should get back to the saloon." "Why don't you take the day off? You and I can go riding. See if we can't find a real horse for you so you don't have to always borrow from the Bryans and you can give them back Lightning." Mardy smiled. "I think I'd like that. Let me just run across and tell the girls." "Good." Andy stood up; smiling as Mardy all but bounced his way across the street. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Andy and Mardy had searched that final day of May, but hadn't found a horse for Mardy. It had taken them a few searches before they finally found the perfect horse. Though it had been tamed, the owner-- a horse farmer outside of San Angelo-- had said the creature was still as wild as he'd always been and wouldn't let anyone ride him. Until Mardy approached the horse, that is. Then the buckskin horse had stood perfectly still, as if he'd been waiting just for Mardy. Even when Mardy had mounted the horse, it hadn’t so much as twitched. Andy had convinced the owner to part with the horse for less than he was asking and Mardy had found his horse. On their ride back to town, Mardy and his horse had left Andy in the dust. It was only when Mardy reached Bluebonnet that he realized Andy was nowhere in sight. He laughed long and hard about that before stabling down his new horse while he contemplated names for the animal. When he was done rubbing the horse down, Andy finally showed up, mock glaring at him. "You left me." "I didn't mean to. He runs like the devil's chasing him." Andy laughed and slid off his horse. "Just for that, you have to let me ride him while you rub down my horse and I take Lightning out to the Bryans." "Okay," Mardy said, trying to sound put out, but he was just too excited about his beautiful new horse. Like so many other things, he'd never owned his own horse, and he'd never thought he'd ever get to own one. But now he had this beautiful animal to call his own. He pulled Andy's old nag into her stall and began rubbing her down, only to be startled out of his thoughts by a loud thump and Andy cursing. He dropped the brush and rushed out, surprised to see Andy holding his ribs, slumped on the ground. "What happened?" he asked, hurrying to Andy's side. Andy glared up at him. "Damn horse of yours kicked me!" "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Andy," Mardy said, helping Andy to stand. He winced when Andy winced and helped him stay standing. "Here, let me get you to your office. Then I'll have Richard or Sebastien come look you over." Andy nodded and Mardy all but carried him down the street to his office then ran across the road and got Sebastien to look in on Andy. Then he went back down to the stables and finished wiping down Andy's horse before going into his horse's stall. "Now, why'd you have to go and kick Andy? He wouldn't have hurt you. He's really very gentle," he murmured softly, stroking his hand through its thick dark mane. "But c'mon. We've got to get Lightning back to the Bryans' ranch before sunset." He saddled his horse back up and tied a rope from Lightning's bridle to his horse before setting out for the Bryans'. When he got back, he had finally decided on a name for his horse, because the horse really did run like the devil was chasing it. So, he had started calling his horse, Diavolo, which the horse responded to. After he'd rubbed down his horse for the second time, he walked as quickly as he could to Andy's office, not surprised to see Andy laying on one of the cots in one of the cells. "How're you feeling?" he asked, joining Andy in the cell.Andy just looked up at him. "Yeah. Uhm, broken ribs?" Mardy asked, touching Andy's thigh lightly. "No, just bruised." "God, I'm so sorry, Andy. I don't know why he did that," he said softly, stroking his hand over Andy's leg unknowingly."Damn horse doesn't like me." Mardy tried not to laugh because Andy was fully pouting. "But the farmer said he didn't like anyone." "He likes you." "Well, he's my horse. He's supposed to like me." "I'm your best friend. He should like me too!" Mardy gave in and let his laughter go, glad when Andy started smiling as well. "I'll make sure to tell him that." "Yeah, yeah. Make fun of the injured person." "With pleasure." Mardy leaned over and kissed Andy's forehead. "How are you feeling, really?" "Sore. Hurts like a bitch in heat," Andy muttered, wincing slightly when he tried to move. "Sebastien and Richie got sick of my complaining." "Well, who can blame them for that?" he asked, winking at Andy. "I'll go make you some food then come back. Do you want me to stay the night?" Andy nodded and grabbed Mardy's hand. "Thanks, Fishy. I appreciate you putting up with me." "Andy, I love you, of course I put up with you." Mardy grinned and headed to his saloon. Once there he got the full report from Sebastien, who was guessing that Andy had broken, not bruised, ribs as well as a nasty looking, already purple bruise covering most of his chest. He thanked Sebastien and Richard for their help before heading into the kitchen where he put Andy together a plate full of fried chicken and mashed potatoes with corn and gravy and biscuits that Sebastien had made while they had been out looking for Mardy's horse.After he'd told Amelie where he was headed, he left and went to Andy. "Hey, Andy. I..." He trailed off at the sight before him. Andy was still lying on the cot, but his shirt was tossed on the floor and his pants were bunched up around his ankles. That wasn't really what had Mardy frozen to the spot. No, the fact that Joachim was sitting astride him was what concerned Mardy the most. Though Mardy couldn't honestly tell himself if he was angry with Joachim or with Andy. He turned, stopping just short of slamming the plate of food on the desk before storming out. He heard Andy calling his name, but for once, he didn't care what Andy had to say. He just wanted to get as far away from him as possible. He contemplated heading back into the saloon and getting himself drunk, but the almost forgotten memory of mounting-- or maybe it would be considered being mounted by-- Belle sprang to his mind, so he walked quickly to the stables and saddled Diavolo. He rode through town as fast as he could, noticing that Andy had pulled up his pants but hadn't bothered with his shirt as Mardy passed the Sheriff's office, and Joachim was standing behind Andy, looking hurt and confused. Mardy didn't care. He felt betrayed, by both Joachim and Andy, but mostly by Andy. How was he ever supposed to trust his friend again, if Andy could use Joachim like that? He didn't know and he didn't want to go back to town and face either of them. But more than the anger with Andy for using Joachim, was anger with Joachim for being there. Deep down, Mardy knew that Andy hadn't forced Joachim-- probably hadn't even asked him for sex-- but the idea of being mounted... Joachim had said to him only weeks earlier that the idea of being mounted had him petrified. So how could he-- after only a few weeks-- be sitting on Andy like that? Why would he do it? Mardy contemplated several reasons for his anger and feelings of betrayal. He knew that Andy and probably Joachim would both assume he was jealous, or that he wanted one of them, but it wasn't that. Sex didn't enter his mind when he looked at either man. No relationship but friendship entered his mind for either of them. Andy, he didn't think of like that because Andy was his saviour. Andy was the one who protected him and made him feel safe and sex was not safe. Sex was being in danger and sex was pain, but sex was never and would never be safe. As for Joachim, well, Mardy couldn't think of another whore-- even a former whore-- as any kind of sexual being. Not to mention, he still had moments where when he looked at Joachim, he was absolutely sure Patrick would be right around the corner coming to mount him and hurt him and maybe kill him. So, no. There was no jealousy in his feelings. Just anger that Andy would be with Joachim and betrayal that Joachim would tell him that he didn't think he would ever be able to be mounted and then turn around and let himself be taken. It wasn't just that Mardy didn't understand how Joachim could trust Andy to take him-- Andy was the only person in the world that Mardy trusted-- but he couldn't help wondering why Andy would be willing and why Joachim wanted him to. He rode and he rode until neither he nor Diavolo could go any further. Once he'd dismounted, he wiped his horse down as best he could and led the horse back to the small creek they'd just jumped. He sat down by the edge and watched the fish swimming by. "Goddammit," Andy swore again, trying to kick his horse into going faster, but she wouldn't have any of it. If anything, the more he kicked at her, the more she slowed down-- though that was probably just Andy's imagination since he was in such a hurry to find Mardy.He was worried about his best friend. Not just because Mardy had taken off on his devil horse, but because he had looked so upset. Andy knew what he'd done wrong, but when Joachim had come to check on him, he hadn't stopped the blonde from pulling his shirt off. And when Joachim pulled down his pants, he hadn't wanted to stop him. Joachim's hands had been warm and gentle and they'd aroused him so quickly that he'd let the former whore have his way. He'd just assumed Mardy would take longer in making his dinner. Andy sighed as he recalled that he hadn't even gotten to eat the plate full of chicken, corn and mashed potatoes with gravy and Mardy's biscuits, which never failed to be perfect. His stomach growled at him and his body was screaming in pain, but he couldn't let Mardy stay out here all alone, even if he knew he didn't stand a chance in hell of catching up with him. He rode until it began to get dark and still he rode some more. His only thought was on finding Mardy and making sure the other man made it back to Bluebonnet. He wouldn't even mind if Mardy never spoke to him again, as long as he was all right. Patting his horse's neck, Andy finally realized he'd have to make camp somewhere for the night because she wasn't going to make it much farther so he slipped off her back and led her to a small creek nearby. Just as he was about start a fire, he saw one burning just down the stream, so he pulled her after him to the already lit fire. "Hey there, mind..." he trailed off at the sight of Mardy sitting there with his knees against his chest and his arms around his knees holding them tight to his body. "Mardy, I am so glad I found you." He dropped to the ground near his friend and reached out, only to have Mardy flinch back from him. "Sorry. Damn, I'm so sorry, Fishy. I can't... I can't even tell you why I did it. He said he wanted to check on the bruising and then... I don't know. He was just there and it felt good and I couldn't say no." "I don't want to hear it!" Mardy snapped, eyes focused on the firelight. "Go back to Bluebonnet, Andy, I don't want you here." "Mardy..." Andy trailed off when Mardy finally looked up at him. He'd never seen Mardy look that angry and hurt, so he nodded and faced the fire. "I'll go back first thing in the morning. It's too dark out and I don't want my horse twisting her ankle or throwing a shoe." "Fine. Just stay away from me." "I can do that," Andy murmured when Mardy turned his back. He sighed and huddle in his coat, thankful he'd remembered it when he left town. He started to speak, but quickly closed his mouth. He didn't have anything to say that Mardy would listen to right now.Later as the air grew colder and Mardy began shivering, Andy slipped off his jacket and stood up, walking around the fire and laying his coat over Mardy's shoulders. He knew that he'd freeze to death, but he'd rather go cold than let Mardy go cold, especially since it was his fault that they were out here. Mardy glanced up at him and for the first time, Andy saw a glimmer of what he was used to seeing in Mardy's eyes. "Fishy?" "Let's share your jacket. Neither of us needs to freeze to death out here." Andy nodded, settling himself next to Mardy. Mardy opened the coat and Andy snuggled against his side. "We could... if you sat on my lap, this would probably work better."Mardy looked at him suspiciously but shrugged off the coat and wrapped it around Andy before he crawled into Andy's lap. He wrapped his arms around Andy's waist and Andy wrapped the jacket around both of them. "Warner?" Andy asked softly, trying not to breathe too much on Mardy's neck. He knew Mardy didn't like anyone behind him, and he could even understand why. He'd always been taken from behind and usually roughly. Not to mention when Patrick had beaten him, it had usually been from behind and while he was tied up, so Mardy didn't like to be confined either. Mardy nodded and snuggled against him. "Andy?" "Yeah, Fishy?" "Why... why'd you... knowing..." He sighed and shook his head. "Never mind." Andy kissed the side of his head, and then sighed before saying Mardy's unasked question, "Why'd I have sex with him knowing what he's been through?" "Yeah," Mardy said, sounding as small as a child. "I'd love to give you this good, great, logical reason, but honestly, I was just lying there waiting for you to come back with food and he came in. He wanted to look at my bruise, so I let him work my shirt off. Then his hands were on me. I wanted to push him away, Mar, I did, but... I don't know. It felt good and he was so... curious. And then he was pushing down my pants and his hands were on me down there, and... And I couldn't say no. I should've, I know that I should've, but it's been so long since anyone's touched me so gently and it felt so good and he acted like he really wanted it-- like he wanted to make sure he could do it again and not freak out and he said he trusted me not to hurt him, so..." Andy trailed off with a sigh. After a few moments, he started talking again. "So, I told him to be on top and I didn't actually mean for him to climb on me like that, I meant that he could take me if he wanted, but when I explained it-- after he'd already sank himself onto me-- he said he wanted to be sure he could have someone in him again without going crazy. And then he braced himself against me and started moving. I swear to you I never touched him. I kept my hands at my side so he wouldn't think I was going to hurt him." Mardy nodded against Andy's chest, but didn't speak. "Do you still hate me?" Andy asked after a long silence. "Don't hate you, 'm just mad," Mardy mumbled. "Mad at me?" "Yes." Mardy pulled back and looked up at Andy. "I don't care if he started it. You shouldn't have let him... Andy... you know what he is. What he was," Mardy corrected quickly. "Why... why would you do that?" "I don't know. It just happened, Mardy, and that's the truth." Andy narrowed his gaze, staring into Mardy's eyes. "I will never touch you like that, Mardy. Never! I love you, but like I love my brothers. You're precious to me, but Joachim? He's a friend, that's it. I don't love him, I like him. You, I respect and I care for, and I swear to you, I will never view you like that. I will always take care of you, but I won't ever try to start anything with you." Mardy frowned, before he nodded slightly. "It's not just that..." "What is it about him initiating this that bugs you so much?" "Because it wasn't that long ago that he told me he could never be mounted again, and there he was, with you in him and... he lied to me!" Andy hugged him close and shook his head. "No, I don't think he would lie to you. What exactly did he say to you when the two of you had that conversation?" "That he was scared of being with anyone. He'd seen Richie and Sebastien and he... Richie was really enjoying himself and he was jealous, but he didn't know if he could ever let anyone do that to him ever again without it being like it was with Johnny." "Okay then. It wasn't that he didn't want to be mounted," Andy said, using the word Mardy so often used to describe sex of any kind, "it was that he was scared of being hurt if he was ever taken again." Mardy frowned at him. "What's the difference?" Andy smiled slightly. "The difference is that he, unlike you, wants to have that kind of physical relationship with someone someday, but he was scared that, for him, it would always be like it was before. He needed to have me show him that not every man would treat him like that." "But why you?! You're my safe haven!" "That's it exactly. You've never really told me much about what happened between the McEnroes and their... people, but you did tell me that you wished you could've traded places with Joachim on several occasions, right?" Mardy nodded and Andy continued, "Well, think about it like this, if Johnny wasn't as bad as Patrick, then maybe Joachim's fears aren't the same as yours. I know Patrick abused you endlessly. I know how badly he hurt you when he took you. But... from everything you've said, John McEnroe didn't treat Joachim the same way. Joachim didn't walk around with bruises all over his body, right? He didn't limp after one session with John the way you did with Patrick, right?" Mardy sniffled, but nodded once more and Andy smiled, kissing his forehead. "So, for Joachim it's probably not as hard for him to move on. He's not dealing with the same issues and fears that you deal with. As for why he chose me, well, maybe because he does know that you think I'm safe, so if you-- who had been abused way more than he had-- can trust me, he maybe figured he could trust me too." "Maybe." Mardy shrugged and sighed. "Why wouldn't he lock the door though? Didn't he know I was coming back?" "I don't know. I can't answer that. I know that I thought you'd have to actually cook food. I didn't know you'd had one of the girls getting food ready." Mardy shook his head. "Didn't. Sebastien offered to cook while we were out looking for a horse for me, so I took him up on it. Especially when he said he'd make something simple." "Oh. Well, I didn't know the food would be ready. Otherwise, I might've thought to lock the door." "Might've?" Andy chuckled softly. "Well, it all happened pretty quickly. I don't know that I could've thought about much once it started happening." Mardy blushed and shook his head as if trying to clear the image. "Promise me something, Andy," he asked, laying his head on Andy's shoulder. "Anything, Fishy." "Don't... don't do that with him again. Please? Because I saw you with him..." Mardy took a shaky breath. "I saw you and him and for a while I wasn't sure I could trust you anymore." Andy nodded, a tear slipping down one cheek. "I promise. I'll never do that with him again and I will never, ever do it with anyone where you can walk in on me." Mardy nodded and then yawned. "'M tired," he said softly. Andy shifted slightly. "We could lie down and try to get some sleep?" Mardy agreed and they squirmed around until they were both lying on their sides, Andy spooned up against Mardy's back, one armed wrapped protectively around his waist. They woke the next morning, still in the same positions, but freezing. Mardy wiggled backwards, trying to get warm. Andy woke slower than Mardy did and pulled back just a little, scooting backwards every time Mardy tried to move into him. "Fishy, please, stop wriggling!"Mardy stilled when he realized what exactly Andy meant. He turned slowly, facing Andy with a slight hint of fear showing in his eyes. "Uhm..." Andy shook his head and slipped away, then covered Mardy with his coat. "I can't help my body's natural reaction, Mar. But I promise you I'm not going to try anything. I will, however, get our fire started again." He glanced over to where Mardy's horse and his horse stood and smiled. "Smart animals," he said gesturing to them. They were standing against a grove of trees which effectively blocked the wind. After getting the fire started, they sat closer to each other and the fire, huddling together. "Should warm up soon," Andy said, glancing up at the sky. "Sun's rising pretty quickly, which means we'll get the warmth from that... I always forgot how quickly it gets cold at night here." Mardy nodded, still shivering too hard to find words. Andy patted his knee and held his hands out over the flames. "Should I try to catch some fish so we can eat before we head back into town?" Nodding again, Mardy snuggled under Andy's coat. Andy smiled at the sight, then walked down to the little creek, turning back to tell Mardy to find them a couple of sticks. As Mardy went off to find sharp enough sticks to cook the fish, Andy stared at the water, watching the fish move slowly through the water. He reached in and the fish scattered, but he kept his hand in the near freezing water until the fish started swimming normally. He managed to catch three fish before his hand went numb and he carried all three fish back to Mardy, handing them and his knife to the other man, while he tried to warm his flesh. Once Mardy had cleaned the fish and had them cooking over the fire, he grabbed Andy's hand and started rubbing it between his own. "Okay, that was just stupid, Andy. We could've just shared one fish and eaten properly when we got back to town." Andy nodded, shuddering hard as the cold worked its way through him. "Yeah, g-gu-guess, but I w-wa-was there and they were pr-pr-pretty much just s-sw-swimming into my h-hand." Mardy shook his head and sighed as he pulled Andy's hand up to his mouth and cupped it in both of his while he blew warm breath over it. "Silly man," he said, shrugging off Andy's coat and wrapping it around Andy's shoulder. He continued trying to warm Andy's hand as the sun rose around them and Andy watched Mardy as he moved with his usual careful efficiency, checking the fish every now and then, leading both horses to the water to drink and then to a patch of grass to feed before coming back to try to continue to warm Andy's hand. As Mardy sat next to him again and was looking over his hand, Andy smiled. "You know, I know you won't want to talk about this, and I'm not trying to start anything with you, but you are so beautiful and some man someday is going to be very, very lucky." Mardy blushed and pulled the fish out of the fire, handing one to Andy. "Eat carefully; it's going to be very hot." Andy nodded, accepting that Mardy didn't want to discuss it, so he picked at his fish, sighing as the steam from the fish warmed his still cold fingers. He popped a piece of fish into his mouth, spitting out the bones into the fire and watched as Mardy did the same. "So, we head back into town when we're done here?" "Yeah," Mardy said softly. "Don't know what I'm going to say to Joachim though." "Just... Just tell him you don't want to talk about it, and I'll tell him that it's not going to happen ever again." Andy reached over, pushing a strand of blonde hair behind Mardy's ear. "They don't stick around, and I know Sebastien and Richie wanted to head down to San Antonio for a while. I think it was partly because of Joachim. Something about him wanting to... do something." Andy shrugged. "I think become a minister. I think." Mardy nodded. "He does. He... he said he enjoyed helping Richie and Sebastien so much, he wanted to help others the way that they do." "Well, that means he'll be out of town for a while. Especially when you consider that Richie was gone for a long while when he was doing his schooling." "Yeah," Mardy said softly, picking at his fish. He handed what was left over, asking, "You want the rest of mine? I'm not really that hungry." "Sure." Andy ate the rest of Mardy's and then the third fish. They cleaned up the campfire quickly before mounting their horses. "Now, let's ride back together. No leaving me in the dust, okay?" Mardy grinned. "Oh come on... I'm supposed to rein in Diavolo?" "Diavolo?" Andy asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah. Oh, I guess I didn't tell you," Mardy said, frowning slightly. "I named him." "Diavolo." Andy nodded, slowly, obviously thinking it over. "It's a good name I think.""It fits him and he liked it when I started calling him that." "Good." Andy took a deep breath and let it out. "Okay, I think I'm ready to go home, how 'bout you?" Mardy nodded and smiled at him. "I'm sorry I ran." "Don't apologize. I'm just glad you didn't get too terribly far. I don't think my old nag here could've made it." He grinned and winked at Mardy as they started back towards Bluebonnet. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The middle of July hit with sweltering heat so bad that Mardy broke all kinds of records for ordering and selling liquor at his saloon. Not that it upset him in any way, because it didn't, but he also spent a lot of time in the kitchen when he sold that much liquor and there wasn't a day that went by where he didn't come out of the kitchen practically dripping with sweat as he brought people their food. He couldn't quite understand how the miners could manage it, though one of the men had told him that it was a lot cooler underground where they worked and it was only when they surfaced each day that they were nearly overcome by the heat. Mardy stood behind the bar, watching men come and go, but he hadn't seen Andy for several days. Normally, he wouldn't have worried, but today, he had a nagging feeling that something had gone wrong. Finally, he was bothered enough by Andy's not showing up that he called Amelie to the floor and asked her to watch the bar. She was still jumpy because of what had happened to her months before, so Mardy had often let her stay in her room and not sell herself. He was determined to find her someplace safe that wasn't selling herself; he just didn't know where she could go. After assuring Amelie that she didn't have to do anything other than sell liquor, he headed down to the stables and saddled Diavolo.His first stop was the Bryans and they had just seen him the day before. Tomas said that Andy had asked him to watch over the Sheriff's office and that he'd be back in a few days. Mardy thanked them and headed back to town, seeking out Lleyton. "Lleyton, did Andy get a telegram?" "Yeah, mate. He got one a few days ago. It was from his brother, I think? Lawrence Roddick, so I guessed his brother or his dad?" Lleyton shrugged. "He looked kind of sick to his stomach at whatever it said." "Oh." Mardy nodded and turned, walking down to the Sheriff's office. He opened the door and rifled through the papers scattered across Andy's desk until he found the note in Lleyton's loopy handwriting. He read it, face going slack at the words before turning and running across the street and kicking everyone out of the saloon. He told the girls to stay inside and not let anyone in until he returned, then he ran down the road to his and Andy's house and packed one satchel with clothes and his bedroll, then a second with food before climbing up on Diavolo and taking off towards Dallas. Two days of hard riding and he finally found signs that he was following the right path to Andy. He knew that if he continued riding his horse hard enough, he'd find his best friend and that was pretty much all he cared about. Andy glanced up at the sound of hooves beating the ground hard and swore softly. "Mardy, what the hell are you doing here?" he asked when Mardy got close enough to hear him.Mardy slid off his horse and stepped towards Andy, stopping when Andy just glared at him. "I... I read the telegram. I..." He trailed off and began chewing his lower lip. "Dammit, Fishy." Andy sighed and sank to the ground, staring into the fire he had going. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd want to come with me." "You don't want your family to meet me. I get it. I'll go back," Mardy said, wrapping his horse's reins around his wrist and starting to mount back up. "No! That's not it, Mardy." Andy sighed again. "I wanted to spare you from my family's drama. Lawrence didn't want to let me know what was going on, or he would've written sooner that Mama was sick." He shook his head and held his hand out for Mardy. "Please?" Mardy dropped the reins and moved to sit next to Andy, wrapping his arm around Andy's waist and leaning in against him. "Why wouldn't he tell you? She's your mother, too." "He doesn't care about all that," Andy said, resting his cheek against the top of Mardy's head. "All he cares about it is making me suffer. Don't forget that he blamed me when Papa died. I was at fault when John was killed. And I didn't stick around to help him and his wife raise their babies and their crops." "Oh," Mardy said, squeezing Andy. "But... why would he expect you to stay if he treated you so badly?" "Because it's the way things are done." Andy shrugged. "They seem to think if John hadn't been killed, then he would've moved back to the farm and helped them out. They think he'd have settled down, gotten married and had babies and continued on the tradition." Andy snorted suddenly. "John wasn't like that. He loved being a Ranger. He wouldn't have given it up to stay home and raise babies and crops. He didn't want that future, and he didn't want me to have that future." "But the rest of the family thinks he would've?" "Yeah." Andy shook his head and pulled away. "But Mama being sick enough that they think she's going to die and Lawrence not telling me? It's just..." "I'm sorry." Mardy let Andy pull back and he glanced around the clearing. "Do you want me to go with you or do you want me to head home?" "Come with me?" Andy asked, reaching up to stroke his hand over Mardy's cheek. "Please?" "If you're sure you want me to," Mardy replied, leaning into Andy's touch. "We can head out early in the morning." "Thank you, Fishy."Mardy nodded and snuggled against Andy. "We should probably sleep." Andy smiled and helped Mardy lay out his bedroll. After they ate, they went to sleep. It was another two days ride before they reached Lawrence's ranch. Andy stared at the old place with contempt until Mardy touched his shoulder. He snapped out of his memories and smiled at his friend. "Ready?" "If you are, I am," Mardy said, squeezing his shoulder.They both dismounted and led the horses up to the house where Andy knocked on the door while Mardy hitched the horses to the hitching post. The door opened and Mardy nearly stepped back at the sight of Andy's brother. He was glaring at Andy like he wished him dead. "So you finally show up." Mardy flinched at the venom, but Andy's only response was to straighten up. "You only just let me know four days ago. It's not a quick trip from Bluebonnet to here." "Well, maybe if you didn't live so damn far away, you wouldn't have had to take so damn long." Andy took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder at Mardy. "This is my friend, Mardy. He came along to keep me company." Lawrence looked at Mardy, then back at Andy. "Mom's upstairs. I actually have work to do." Andy moved aside so Lawrence could pass and then he headed inside. Mardy followed him as far as the living room. "Maybe you should go up alone, Andy. She's your mom and you should see her alone." Andy nodded and gestured to one of the chairs. "Have a seat. I probably won't be long," he murmured before heading up the steps. He found his mom quickly, in the biggest room at the end of the hall. "Mama?" he said softly, knocking lightly on the door. She turned her head and smiled slightly at him. "Andy, my baby." Andy smiled back and crossed to the side of her bed. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I... If I'd known how sick you are, I would've been here." "I'm glad you're--" She cut off with a hacking cough. Once she'd calmed down, she looked back up at him. "Sorry, honey. I'm glad you're here. I know Lawrence didn't tell you until very recently." Andy nodded and sat down next to her, lifting her hand into his. "How sick are you, Mama?" She fell silent and Andy noticed that she had fallen asleep. "Doctor says she's only got a couple more weeks at most." Andy turned to see his sister-in-law standing there. "I'm sorry, Andy. I tried to get Lawrence to let you know earlier, but... he didn't even want to tell you at all." Andy nodded, turning back to his mother. "She's got no chance of survival?" "No, sweetie. They're surprised she lived this long." Andy teared up and nodded again, staring down at his mom. "I would've been here sooner if I'd known, Mama. I'm so sorry," he said, trying not to cry. He sniffled and turned to ask Lawrence's wife something, but she wasn't there. He wiped at his eyes with his sleeve and focused on his mom, trying to memorize everything about her. The next two weeks passed slowly until they were standing in the churchyard, watching Andy's mom be buried. Mardy held his hand, letting Andy lean on him for a change. He watched Lawrence and his wife across the plot and then stared at the preacher who was uttering the words that he'd last heard when he was fourteen. After the service was over, the family and Mardy headed back to Lawrence's ranch, where most of the neighbours just gave baleful looks at Andy and Mardy before they all flocked to Lawrence's side to offer their condolences. Andy and Mardy finally moved outside to the porch, where they sat together in silence. Andy leaned into Mardy's side, resting his head on Mardy's shoulder. "Thank you for being with me," Andy said softly, staring out over the horizon. "I think we'll head home tomorrow morning, first thing." "Okay, if that's what you want." Mardy held him close, only barely looking up when the door opened. Lawrence's wife stepped outside and smiled sadly at both of them."Lawrence wants you both gone today." She handed over a plate of food. "Eat up, and then if you two'll go pack up your stuff in the barn and get your horses ready, I'll meet you out there with some food you can take with." Mardy looked down at Andy and sighed. "Sure. Thanks." "Andy, I'm sorry for everything. I wish... I wish things were different. I know the children would love to know their Uncle Andy, but... Lawrence won't even give them the gifts you've sent over the years." Andy nodded, standing up as he picked up a piece of the meat from the plate. "We'll be gone as soon as we can." He walked away without another word. Mardy watched him for a minute, then turned and thanked her again before following Andy. They were back on the road, heading back to Bluebonnet in no time at all. Andy sighed as he let himself into their home and he headed straight up to his room. He knew Mardy was worried about him, but there was nothing that could help. He had thought he'd made his peace with losing his dad and his brother, but losing his mom and losing his last brother all over again-- even if Lawrence wasn't really gone, he knew that his brother would never reach out to him ever again-- that was the final blow for any hope he'd managed to keep in his heart for having his family forgive him.And even though his mother had said she forgave him for his part in his father's and John's deaths, Andy knew she was just saying it because she wanted to be right with God. Because she'd died so quickly after Andy had arrived, the doctor assumed she had been waiting for that final goodbye before she left them, which had just made Lawrence angrier. The entire time they'd been at Lawrence's, Lawrence had made sure his children were kept as far away from Andy and Mardy as possible. Not that Andy blamed him exactly. If he had babies, he wouldn't want them to meet him either. Too many children in his travels had thought that being a Ranger would be the best thing ever, but Andy didn't want any of those children to grow up to leave their families behind and die at the hands of some outlaw whose only goals in life were mischief, mayhem and murder. Only a few minutes had passed since Andy had crawled into bed before Mardy came in to check on him. He'd expected to see Mardy before long anyhow. Mardy sat on the edge of his bed and stroked his hand over Andy's back. "Can I get you anything, Andy?" Andy shook his head, and then pulled his pillow over his head. "Just... I love you, Fishy, but please, I just need some time alone." Mardy nodded; though Andy couldn't see it and he leaned over, lifting the pillow and kissing the back of Andy's neck. "I'm going in to check on the girls. I'll be back in a while and I'll make you something to eat. Would you like some cookies?" Andy chuckled and turned his head, smiling up at Mardy. "No. I'll be fine. I just need some time." "Okay." Mardy slid his hand over Andy's back before standing up. Andy turned away from the door and snuggled in under his covers, tears he hadn't let fall before filling his eyes and flowing over to soak his pillow. Mardy returned a little over an hour later and Andy was sitting in the living room, staring at a carving he'd done months earlier for Mardy. "Hey, you're out of bed," Mardy said, kneeling next to Andy."Keen powers of observation," Andy said, smiling a little to take the sting out of his words. "I slept a little, then decided I'd come down here." "Why?" "Just didn't want to stay in bed. I'm not tired, I'm just..." "Sad." Andy nodded and stroked his hand over Mardy's shoulder. "Yeah. I thought I'd already made my peace with losing my family when John was killed." "But now you've lost them all over again." "Exactly." Andy teared up again and he looked away, taking several deep breaths before he got himself under control. "I shouldn't have gone back. I knew it was a stupid thing to do, but... I wanted to say goodbye to my mom." Mardy knelt there, tears streaming down his face. Andy turned back and wiped at Mardy's face. "Why are you crying?" Mardy just shook his head. He'd never told Andy about his family and he didn't want to do so now. Under no circumstance did he want Andy thinking him more pathetic than he already did. "Just... I can't believe your family is so cruel. It's not fair." Andy nodded, cupping Mardy's face in his hands. "No, it's not. But then, you know that already. Things happen that aren't fair to anyone involved. We can't change them; we just have to learn to deal with them and try to move on." "What if we can't?" Mardy asked, looking up at Andy with tears still slipping down his cheeks. "We have to. We can't change what happened in the past. We can only affect a change in ourselves so that it doesn't happen again and we can go forward with our lives without letting our past drag us down." Mardy nodded and leaned up, kissing Andy. "I'm sorry." "For what?" "I'm crying when you're the one mourning your family." Andy shrugged. "You're crying the tears I can't let myself shed. If I let loose again, I'll never stop." Sniffling, Mardy laid his head in Andy's lap. "When you were little, did your parents read you stories?" "All the time. Mama was usually the one who read to me. Dad didn't read too well and John and Lawrence were older. I was Mama's baby and she treated me as such until I was fourteen." Andy laughed softly, remembering when he was little. "Even after I'd left to join John on the Rangers, she still worried about me like I was six and still not even able to ride a horse on my own." "What kind of stories did your mom read you?" "All sorts of stories. She liked to read plays. Really old stories from... England or someplace. Some... playwright... uh... Shakes... something." Andy shrugged. "I never cared what she read; I just liked to listen to her. My favourites were stories she would make up just for me." Mardy smiled and nuzzled his cheek against Andy's thigh. "What else did you all do as a family? I mean... like what..." Andy stroked his hair. "Lots of stuff. We used to work the fields together. That wasn't so much fun. We'd always eat dinner together. Mama would cook us huge meals-- sort of like the meals you make down at the saloon." Andy grinned when Mardy lifted his head and raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, she did. And you do the same thing. It's like you think if we eat enough, we'll all be okay."Mardy shrugged and laid his head back down. "What else?" "Church every Sunday, until I was old enough to work in the field for longer periods of time without passing out from exhaustion. Mama would take me in. I guess she did the same with Lawrence and John, but by the time I came along, they were already at the age where they could be of more help to Dad in the fields." He smiled. "We'd go on picnics every now and then. Mama would talk Dad into taking an hour or so off and we'd go down to this creek by the house and me and John and Lawrence and Dad would have competitions to see who could catch the most fish while Mama sat on a blanket and read." He laughed suddenly. "We'd play games on occasion, but Lawrence and John were so much bigger than me that I couldn't really keep up with them. When that'd happen, I'd sit with Mama and she'd read to me." Mardy smiled and stood up. "You were very lucky." "Yeah, I guess I was. I have good memories of my family that can easily override the bad." Mardy nodded and headed into the kitchen. Andy watched him go, knowing that Mardy wasn't telling him his whole story, but he didn't want to push him, so he let it go. Mardy came back after a while and handed Andy a cup of coffee. "Here. I thought you could use something to warm you up." Andy raised the cup to his lip, taking a sip. His eyes widened and watered before he swallowed. "You put enough whiskey in this to warm up our entire town." Mardy laughed and nodded, sitting back at Andy's feet. "Yeah, I thought you'd like it." "I definitely like it." "Then you'll like the sugar cookies I made to go with it.""What'd you put in them?" "More whiskey. It's a recipe that I've had for a while and I've wanted to try out, but... since you're the only person I can really try out my recipes on and I wasn't sure you'd be interested in these..." Mardy shrugged and smiled. "I think you'll like them though." "Are you trying to get me drunk, Mardy?" "Why would I do that?" "I have no clue." Andy laughed and leaned back in his chair. "I miss this." "Me too," Mardy said, leaning against Andy's leg. "But... we've got a good life now, right?" "Oh we definitely do. We've both got good jobs and we like what we do. Now all we need is someone to come on as doctor and the town'd be just about perfect." "Do you ever think that we'll never find our others if we're stuck in this town?" Andy thought about that, trying not to gloat at the fact that Mardy finally agreed with him about everyone having someone out there. "No. With all the people that come through our town, our significant others will be through eventually. We'll just have to hope we recognize them when they do show up." Mardy nodded and closed his eyes. "Don't let me fall asleep. I don't want to burn the cookies." "Of course I won't let you burn the cookies. I want cookies," Andy said, chuckling as Mardy giggled. Later, after they'd filled up on cookies and coffee laced with whiskey, they both stumbled upstairs and fell into Andy's bed. Mardy snuggled up against him and promptly fell asleep, but Andy couldn't sleep. He knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep until he'd thought through everything that had happened between him and his family. He laid there, eyes closed as he remembered some of his past with his family. His earliest memories were of sitting in the kitchen, watching his mother cook while John sat at the table, kicking his feet back and forth and whining. "Mommy! I want a cookie!" eight year old John said, rocking back and forth.Andy had picked up his spoon and, banging it on the table, mimicked his big brother. "Cookie, Mama! Cookie!" Their mom had just smiled and placed a huge oatmeal raisin cookie in front of each of them, with the admonishment of, "Eat those slowly because you won't get a second one until after dinner." And just when Andy had started nibbling on his cookie, their dad had come in, carrying Lawrence on his shoulders. "Blanche, honey, Lawrence just rode Pepper. You would've been so proud of him, up there reining in that horse like a boy twice his age." Their mom had smiled and picked Lawrence off his dad's shoulder and sat him at the table with John before giving him a cookie. "John got a good grade on his math test today." "Our boys are gettin' brighter every day," their dad said, grinning at all three of them. He'd looked over at their mom and grinned wider. "I love you, Blanche." She'd smiled, blushing prettily. "I love you, too, Jerry." "Andy, c'mon! Mom and Dad are waiting for you!" John yelled as he ran ahead of Andy. Andy was only six and couldn't keep up with his older-- and much bigger-- brothers, though he ran as fast as his little legs could carry him."Johnny!" He whined, trying his best to catch up with his older brother. "Don't leave me out here!" "Lawrence! Wait up!" John yelled, slowing down to let Andy catch up. "Andy's falling behind again!" Lawrence responded by speeding up. He hated having two little brothers and he resented Andy. Before they'd come along he'd been the baby and he didn't like their mom and dad ignoring him for the others. John sighed when Lawrence ignored him and he finally stopped, turning and waiting for Andy. "C'mon, li'l bit! Mom and Dad are gonna yell at both of us if we're late!" He waited until Andy was side by side with him, then he helped Andy onto his back and took off running. Even with the additional weight on his back, John was faster than Andy had been. Andy and John snuck into the barn, creeping as quietly as possibly up to the hayloft where Lawrence was making out with the O'Connell's daughter. Andy had to cover his mouth to stifle his giggle, but John was watching intensely as if trying to figure out what exactly Lawrence was doing to the girl.Finally, neither boy could contain their giggles when all that could be heard was the girl saying, "Yes, oh yes," over and over again in the same monotonous voice. The next day, Andy and John both followed Lawrence around the farm, repeating her tone and words until Lawrence turned around and tried to beat them both up. Luckily for both of the younger boys, their dad had come along and taken Lawrence away. They had giggled for weeks about it, teasing Lawrence whenever they could. "Mom, Dad," John had said at eighteen, sounding as serious as Andy had ever heard him. "I'm leaving home. I'm going to San Antonio to join the Texas Rangers."Their mom had started crying and their dad had screamed and yelled for hours but John refused to change his mind. The next day, Andy had followed John on horseback until he knew he had to go back or risk being whipped for disobeying their father. "Johnny? Will you ever come back?" John had smiled and stroked his hair. "I will always be with you, little brother. No matter where I am, I will always watch out for you." Andy at fifteen had sat down with his parents, more nervous than he'd ever felt. "Mama, Daddy... I know you both think I'm only a child, but... I'm fifteen now and... I know what I want to do with my life."His dad had looked at him proudly, but one glance at his mother and Andy knew that she knew what he was about to say. "I'm joining the Texas Rangers." "What?!" his dad shouted and climbed so quickly to his feet that he knocked both his chair and the table over. "You are my child and you will do what I tell you to do!" "No, Daddy. Not this time. I'm leaving. I'm gonna join Johnny in the Rangers and you can't stop me." Andy had turned and walked out, hearing his mother's sobs and his father still ranting away at him. John's face when he'd told his brother that he was joining up as well made Andy truly happy with his decision. And soon after he'd joined, he and John had been made partners, working together on many different cases. Together they'd gone home to visit their family. Lawrence, as usual, wasn't happy to see either of them, but their Mom had been ecstatic at their visit and even their dad was happy to see them, though when they headed out again, he was less than pleased. But John and Andy had made a good team together. They were good at finding the bad guys and taking them in, or at least getting rid of the bad guys.But they'd been together as Rangers for a few months when they'd gotten the letter telling them that their dad had died. They'd rushed back home, only to find they weren't as accepted as they'd been before. Their mom now resented them for disobeying their father's wishes and Lawrence had always resented them. After John had been killed and Andy had taken the body home, his family would no longer speak to him. His mother's parting words had been that she hoped he burned in hell. Lawrence had refused to say anything at all to him, as if to speak to him would give him a substance that Lawrence wished he didn't have. Andy sniffled and held Mardy closer. So many good times he'd had with his brother, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Lawrence had never liked him. He'd always resented the time that Andy spent with their parents and with John. John didn't worship Lawrence in the way that most younger brothers did their older brothers, but when Andy had come along and worshiped John in that way, Lawrence had seen it as one more thing Andy had taken away from him. Andy had loved his parents and, with the exception of joining the Rangers, had never once disobeyed them. But becoming a Ranger wasn't, to him, just about getting out, but about helping those less fortunate, and yes, it had also been about following John. He'd loved his older brother more than probably anyone else.Staring up at the ceiling, Andy sighed. "Johnny, are you still watching over me?" he asked softly, eyes welling as he remembered his brother's smile and his laughter. He could still perfectly picture the way John would throw his head back and laugh when they'd be together. The way John would hug him close, one-armed, and pat his head when he'd done something John found amusing or cute.Mardy mumbled in his sleep and scooted closer, nuzzling against his chest. Andy smiled down at him and stroked his hand through the long, blonde strands that ghosted over his chest. "If you are, I think I'm okay now, if you want to go spend time with Mama and Daddy. I don't need you watching out for him." He shivered suddenly at the sound of familiar laughter drifting through the room, and though later he'd say it had just been the wind, he could have sworn he'd heard John's voice saying, "Forget it, li'l bit. You're stuck with me." Andy grinned and closed his eyes. He'd put his family to rest and now, finally, he could sleep. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Tommy lay down on the couch that was usually reserved for nurses taking their breaks, but he'd been at work since the morning before and it was already late at night so he needed to rest before he headed home. For over forty-eight hours, he'd been awake and forty-six of those hours had been working, on his feet, taking care of patients that couldn't stand to have him touch them because his accent wasn't "normal" or because he was too pretty. There was always something wrong with him according to the patients and while he didn't usually mind the derisive looks and comments, after forty-six hours, he was sick of it and sick of being in a big city. He wanted freedom. He wanted air to breathe. Mostly, he wanted to give Roger a house. He had oh so long ago promised the Swiss that they'd have a proper house, but they couldn't afford one here in St. Louis, no matter how much he and Marat worked.That was where the other two hours had been spent. Every morning before he and Marat went to work-- unless Tommy had to be at the hospital for a triple or quadruple shift like he had this time around-- the three of them would gather around the kitchen table and have breakfast together. They would talk about their day's plans or Roger would babble on about some story he'd read in the paper or a book one of the neighbours had let him borrow. But the morning before, Roger had glared at him and Marat, pouting because though they'd been in St. Louis for months, they were still living in a tiny, cramped apartment that was barely big enough for one man, let alone three fully grown men. He sighed and picked up the paper. He'd promised Roger he'd start looking for a home for them and he always tried to keep his promises to Roger. As he looked through the advertisements for houses, he knew that they'd never be able to afford one, even with both his and Marat's salaries combined. Even a larger apartment was out of their price range because neither of them made much since they were both so new to their professions. Roger didn't contribute monetarily to their funds, just working for food and sometimes he'd do odd jobs around the neighbourhood to get books or other things, but never for money. It did help with their finances, but not enough to grant them even so much as a tiny, cramped apartment for two.He frowned, stopping when one of the advertisements for employment caught his eye. Small town in Texas, looking for a full time doctor. Contact Sheriff Andy Roddick in Bluebonnet if interested in applying. Tommy's mind suddenly began working overtime. It was what he'd always wanted-- an office of his own with no senior doctor to answer to, no nurses to yell at him when he did a procedure only they were supposed to do, but that he'd usually done to save them time, no hospital rules and regulations to follow, and most importantly, the chance for himself and Roger to truly get lost so that even if their families did come searching for them-- a fear he held in his heart even after all this time-- they would never find them. Plus, it was a small town, if the Sheriff were telling the truth, but Tommy figured since he was Sheriff, he probably wouldn't lie. Tommy was sick of the crowded streets and the too oppressive air and wanted space to breathe and a small town would give him just that. Making the decision for their small family, though he knew he should've talked it over with at least Marat, he headed downstairs quickly, jogging across the street to the telegraph office. He smiled at the young brunette behind the counter and said, "I'd like to send a telegram to Bluebonnet, Texas, please?" "Okay, sir. What's your message?" Tommy chewed on his lower lip as he tried to think about what to say. "It's to Sheriff Andy..." He checked the paper before finishing, "Roddick. And I'd like it say, 'I am a doctor interested in the position. Also I am wondering if there is work for a blacksmith because I know of one who would have to relocate with me.' And I'd like it signed Tommy Haas." He patiently spelled his last name for the young man, smiling all the while.The young man tapped out the message, then gave Tommy the total. Tommy pulled some coins out of his pocket and counted out the right amount, then thanked the young man before he ran back to work to gather his things so he could go home and tell Roger and Marat. Roger was out of the apartment but Marat was sitting there, reading a book. Tommy all but pounced on him, kissing him hello before he began excitedly telling Marat about the advertisement and that he'd already sent a telegram to the Sheriff, telling him he was interested in the position. "So, what do you think, Marat?" Tommy asked, bouncing nervously in his seat. He didn't know what he'd do if Marat said no, but there was no way he and Roger could do anything except take this opportunity. It was too good to pass up. Marat frowned. "There was nothing saying they needed a blacksmith?" "No, but... even if they have one, you can maybe work for him?" Tommy shrugged. "I just know Roger would love to live in the West and I want us safe from his family and mine. And I think this town can be that safe haven for us." "How do you figure?" Tommy shrugged again. "I don't know. I just know that the minute I saw the advertisement I somehow knew that this place would be our home." "Yours and Roger's?" "Yes. And yours as well. Marat, I want you with us. I love you." Marat nodded and cupped Tommy's face in his hand. "If the Sheriff says there is work for me, I will go with. Otherwise, I don't know that I could leave a very good job here." Tommy sighed, hating that Marat was right, but finally he agreed. He stood suddenly, leading Marat by the hand into their bedroom and wiggling his eyebrows at the bigger man. Marat laughed and let himself be led. Later that day, Tommy had to head back into work, but he stopped by the telegraph office on his way. "I don't suppose there is a message for me?" he asked. It was a different man-- older, this time-- behind the counter. "And your name?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow. "Tommy Haas." "How do you spell that?" "H-a-a-s." "Got a message right here for you." The man handed it over and Tommy took it with him outside not wanting the man to see his reaction whether it was good news or bad. Doctor Haas. We'd be pleased to welcome you to Bluebonnet. We actually don't have a blacksmith right now, but we'd be happy to hire one on. Return message if interested in joining us. Sheriff Andy Roddick Tommy let out a happy yell before he spun on his heel and ran back home, just catching Marat before the taller man left for work for the day. "They have a position for a blacksmith!" he announced breathlessly. "In the town in Texas?" "Yes! Bluebonnet. Please say yes, Marat. Please?" "Shouldn't we talk this over with Roger?" "We will, if you say yes!" Tommy shifted from foot to foot restlessly. "Please?" Marat laughed and kissed the top of Tommy's head. "Return a message to the Sheriff and tell him we'll be there as soon as we can get things settled here." Tommy threw himself into Marat's arms and kissed his lover soundly before heading back to the hospital and the telegraph office. First he went into the telegraph and passed a message on to the Sheriff, telling him exactly what Marat had said, adding that they would take the train to Dallas and the stage from there and be there in a week and a half, once they'd settled matters in St. Louis. Then he went to the hospital where he quickly tracked down his boss and told him that he was leaving and wanted his last week's pay. After a lot of grumbling, his boss gave in and gave him his pay. Though Tommy knew he should probably work, at the very least, the rest of his shifts for the week, he just wanted out and he couldn't wait to get to Bluebonnet, Texas.Tommy collected his things from the doctors' changing room before he went to Marat's workplace, only to be told that Marat had quit that very afternoon. Tommy thanked the blacksmith and all but ran home. He let himself into the house and fell into Marat's arms, both of them more than happy to be moving on. After they'd cleaned up from their afternoon lovemaking, Tommy curled up against Marat's side on the couch as they waited for Roger to come home so they could tell the younger man their good news. "Do you really think he'll be happy about moving again?" Marat asked, unconsciously stroking Tommy's long hair. "I know he will be, once we explain to him why we're doing it. He's wanted to move that far west for a long time, ever since Mr. Ripley told him all of those stories about cowboys and the Wild West." Marat smiled, shaking his head. "That old man. I swear, sometime I think he was more off than Roger is." Tommy started to object, but there were worse things to say about Roger-- and Marat and he had already had fights about that. "Maybe, but he was sweet and good to Roger." "I know that, Tommy. I just meant... never mind. I just didn't mean anything bad by it." Tommy nodded and patted Marat's thigh. "I thought we could start off by telling him how I found out about it and explaining that this will be our last move. I think that will help him to be calmer about it." Marat sighed. "I will follow your lead." Tommy smiled and kisses his cheek. "Thank you, love." They talked it over some more, deciding to wait a couple of days before telling Roger so that they could arrange for their travel. Andy was smiling as he walked into Mardy's bar, holding out a telegram. "We got ourselves a doctor!" he announced, shaking the sheet of paper at Mardy. "Also got a blacksmith. They're coming in from St. Louis. New doc's name is Tommy Haas. They'll be here in a week and a half, 'cause they got some business to take care of there."Mardy smiled back, glad to see Andy smiling for a change. He hadn't smiled much in the last couple of weeks since they'd gotten back to Bluebonnet and he didn't know what to do to help his friend through his grieving period, even though Andy had seemed more at peace after their night of coffee and cookies laced with whiskey. So this news was definitely good news, not just because they were in desperate need of a doctor, but also because it had cheered Andy up so much. "Good. It's about time." Andy nodded and slid onto a stool. "Can I get lunch?" "Of course," Mardy said, pouring Andy a cup of coffee and sliding it across the bar. He headed into the kitchen, coming back quickly with a plate full of food. "Not very fancy today, just chicken dumplings." "Sounds good to me. 'Sides, any meal I don't have to make myself is a good meal." Andy winked at Mardy and dug into his food. Mardy grinned back and headed to the other end of the bar to do inventory. Both men glanced up as the doors opened and Richard and Sebastien walked in, talking enthusiastically with Mikhail and Igor. Mardy grinned at their friends and poured four more cups of coffee, letting Andy take the cups plus his food to one of the tables. Mardy went back into the kitchen to make up four more plates and he returned to serve them their food. "Welcome back," he said, patting Sebastien on the shoulder. "How're things down in San Antonio?" "Great actually. We've settled into a rather nice church. It's temporary until something more permanent is done up here, but it is nice to stay in one place for a while," Sebastien said. Richard beamed at him and dug into the meal. Mikhail and Igor were talking to Andy about outlaws and Mardy shook his head. They were firmly entrenched in their small town and though there weren't many people actually in Bluebonnet, it was still their home and Mardy loved it here. He knew that he'd always have nightmares, but he was sure that in time, he'd start to feel better and his nightmares would fade away.Mardy walked back to the bar and began cleaning up, waving to Lleyton, Andre and Kim when the three of them walked in and took a table. Bluebonnet was a good town and the addition of the doctor and blacksmith would be a fitting contribution. And maybe they could finally build a real church and maybe even start having more buildings in their town. He glanced up when Amelie sat across from him. "What's going on?" he asked, smiling at her. "Just wonderin'... Have you heard from Belle?" "Not recently. Why, Amelie?" "Just... would you be angry if I said I wanted to go up and work for her up in Montana?" Mardy shook his head, smiling slightly at her. "Actually, I'd approve of that. And, in fact, I know that Mikhail and Igor are heading up that way soon on some mission, so we can ask if you can join them if you want?" "I would definitely appreciate the company." "Then, let me go ask if they can take you with and I'll be right back." Amelie nodded and Mardy walked over to the table and sat down. "Igor, Mikhail... you're heading up to Montana soon, right?" "In the next couple of days. We're just taking a rest here," Mikhail said, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "Well, Amelie kind of wants to head up there to work for Belle, so I was wonderin' if you could take her with you." Mikhail glanced over at Igor questioningly and Igor nodded. "I don't see why not. She won't be in any danger because we're going up there to bring someone back." "I'll go let her know and have Lleyton send a telegram up to Blue Belle to let Belle know that Amelie's on her way." "Sounds good. Tell Amelie that she'll have two days to pack her stuff and get ready." Mardy smiled and thanked them before going to tell Amelie the news. He headed over to Lleyton's table and asked him to send off a telegram to Belle as soon as possible. As he passed Andre and Kim, she stood and followed him over to the bar. "Uncle Andre's letting me head back to St. Louis. I'm going to get to go to school." "What are you going to learn?" Mardy asked, leaning on the bar towards her. "I'm going to be a teacher. Maybe someday when the town fills up, I can come back and teach here." "I know we'd love to have you." Mardy patted her hand and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Good luck." "And to you. I hope you... I hope you get better, Mardy. There's no one who deserves good things more than you do." Mardy blushed at that and waved her away. He stared around the room and sighed. People were leaving and people would return, but Bluebonnet would always stay standing and Mardy loved that about their town. But now more than ever he couldn't wait to meet the new doctor and the new blacksmith. They were bound to bring some new adventures with them. Finally they reached Dallas and Roger wouldn't stop bouncing in his seat. "Can we go early?" he'd asked every five minutes since they'd arrived around four hours before. "Can we?"Tommy sighed. He was tired from all the travel and just wanted to stay put for a few days, but faced with Roger's exuberance, he couldn't quite bring himself to say no. He glanced over at Marat who was smiling indulgently at Roger. "Of course we can," Marat said, looking over at Tommy who nodded and stood up. Tommy walked to the ticket counter and asked when the next stage was leaving for Bluebonnet. "Pete's leaving in about five minutes. If you and your brothers there hurry, you'll just make it." Tommy thanked him and told Roger the good news. Then the three of them ran for the stage. They had to call for the driver to halt the coach and they clambered on, Roger chattering excitedly in German as Tommy thanked the driver for stopping and Marat settled their few bags on top of the coach. Then they were off, headed to Bluebonnet.Roger was quite excited, babbling on about meeting real cowboys and hopefully getting to have grand adventures. Tommy couldn't bring himself to shoot down Roger's hopes about grand adventures; though he knew their lives would probably end up being rather boring. It was a small town after all and there probably weren't many people there. Tommy and Marat would probably struggle to make ends meet, but the look on Roger's face when he turned to Tommy, eyes bright with excitement made it impossible for Tommy to dash his dreams. He patted Roger's thigh and looked across the stage at Marat who was watching them carefully. When Roger finally fell asleep-- the day's excitement finally exhausting the younger man-- Tommy explained everything that Roger had said to Marat. Marat smiled at Roger, eyes going soft. "He's so sweet and so young. So terribly naïve." "Yes, he is," Tommy said, pulling Roger's head from the side of the stage to his shoulder. "I kind of hate that he'll someday have that taken from him. I know that somewhere down the line, he'll be hurt so badly that he'll change and he won't be the same sweet boy he is." "Or maybe this town will help us to keep him this sweet and innocent." Marat raised an eyebrow. "Maybe they'll be able to accept him as he is and not force him to grow up. And maybe they'll help to keep him from seeing the bad things that there are in this world." "He's already seen some of the worst things that can happen to a person," Tommy murmured, leaning his head against Roger's. "I'm just worried... what if someone in this town takes his innocence? Not just his virginity, but what if they take him and try to make him what he's not?" "We won't let that happen," Marat said softly. "We will protect him from everyone. But I still think you're imagining the worst. I can't imagine a small town being anything other than friendly and welcoming. But I'll tell you what. I will help you keep him from anyone who would try to take his innocence." Marat slid to his knees and moved between Tommy's legs. "Now, would you let me relax you?" Tommy glanced at Roger who was still fast asleep and shook his head. "Nein. I do not want Roger waking up in the middle. He may know what we do, but... I don't want him seeing it live and in person." Marat slipped his hand over Tommy's groin, smirking at him. "You're really turning me down? We haven't touched in days, love." Tommy moaned, but grabbed Marat's wrist and lifted his hand away from his crotch. "I am really turning you down. Just until we get to Bluebonnet and figure out where we're going to be living." Marat sighed and pushed himself back into his seat, then quirked his eyebrow at Tommy and opened his pants, pulling himself out. "Well, if I can't play with you, I'll play with me." Tommy groaned and closed his eyes, shaking his head to Marat's laughter. Mardy looked up as Andy walked through the doors and he smiled at the Sheriff. "What can I do for you?""Whiskey, if you please?" Andy said, plopping on one of the stools. "Where're all the men?" "The mine just closed yesterday. Everyone is headed up north to work on the railroad." Mardy shrugged. "Guess it's gonna be reachin' across the whole of Texas before long." "Good. More tracks means more people." Andy smiled and downed his glass of whiskey. "So, just a few more days and the new doc'll be in town. Don't suppose I could get your help cleaning up his office?" "What about the blacksmith's building?" Mardy asked, taking the glass and refilling it."Yeah, we'll need to work on that too. I'm thinkin' I might call the Bryans into town and see if they're willing to help." "Do we know when Richie and Sebastien are coming back?" "Not for a while." Andy took a drink of his whiskey and smiled slightly. "They want to stay close to San Antonio until Joachim's graduated. Then I think they'll be heading back here. Probably have to build a church and possibly a school soon. Lots of the farmers' wives around here are popping out babies on a regular basis." "Yeah they are." Mardy smiled slightly. "Well, I guess that means that Andre'll be doin' good business." "How do you figure?" "Gotta get the wood from somewhere and he's the only store for miles and miles." "I guess that's a good point." Andy sighed and looked out the front windows of the saloon. "You notice that the longer Kimmy's gone the more of an asshole he becomes?" Mardy laughed and nodded. "Yeah. I think she was the only thing keeping him from being a complete jackass. Now that she's gone and not planning on coming back for a while, he's reverted to his true form." Sighing, Andy leaned back just a little. "Yeah. Suppose you're right. So, you wanna come help me clean up the doc's office? I figure we can tackle the blacksmith's building tomorrow." "Sure. Let me just tell the girls where I'm headed." Andy nodded and watched as Mardy headed upstairs. He finished off his drink and stood up, going into the kitchen to grab the bucket and some rags to clean with. Marat watched as Tommy hid Roger behind him as the group of Indians surrounded them. They could hear Pete, who was yelling at the men who obviously weren't being scared off in the least. Tommy glanced over at Marat who shook his head and simply moved in front of the other two. "Just stay quiet in there boys," Pete finally yelled down to them before they felt the coach dip and sway and saw the dark haired man walking away from the stage coach.Marat continued to stay in front of Tommy and Roger, determined that the Indians wouldn't be able to hurt either of them. Tommy touched his back and Marat felt calmer, knowing that even if something happened to him, Tommy would always protect Roger. He bit back a sigh as he admitted to himself that Tommy would protect Roger over anyone else, but especially over Marat. He didn't begrudge Roger Tommy's protection, but it would've been nice to have someone's protection in return. He knew deep down that someday he'd lose Tommy, because while the German loved him, he wasn't completely and totally in love, but was so used to having Marat there to support him that he couldn't see past that.Pete was talking and gesturing wildly to the Indians and finally he came back to the stage, pulling two bags off the top and handing them over to the man who appeared to be the lead Indian. The Indian looked in the bags and nodded, calling something out to the others and they all wheeled around and headed away.Marat slipped out of the coach and approached Pete, asking softly, "Are you all right?""Yeah, thanks. Just a little shaken up. It's life in the west, but it never fails to scare me when Indians surround me. Thankfully, all they wanted was some food and I had plenty to give 'em." Pete shook his head and smiled. "We're gonna head up to a nearby pond and stop for the night. I don't think I can go on. I hope you're okay with that." "Of course we are. I'll talk to Tommy and explain to him and Roger what's going on." Marat smiled at the old stage coach driver and patted his shoulder before doing just that. They headed down the road and settled down for the night; Roger snuggled in between Tommy and Marat. Marat took a long time to fall asleep, though Tommy and Roger were both worn out from the day's adventures and fell asleep quickly. Marat, however, couldn't stop replaying the Indians' raid and his own thoughts during it, so he knew it would be a long while before he managed to sleep. Mardy set the bucket aside, smiling as Lleyton joined him and Andy in the doctor's office. "Hey, Lleyton.""Mardy. I went to your place for lunch and you weren't there." Lleyton grinned. "I figured I'd come help out here and see if I couldn't get some lunch sooner?" Mardy laughed and threw an arm over Lleyton's shoulders. "We'll finish up here in a few minutes. Why don't you head on over and I'll be right behind you?" Lleyton smiled and nodded, heading to the saloon. Andy came downstairs, covered in grime and he looked at Mardy. "Did I just hear Lleyton?" "Yeah, he came in to offer his help, but I'm done down here so I thought I'd help you finish up then we can go grab some lunch with him." Andy nodded, glancing back up the stairs. "Well, the upstairs is as clean as I could get it, so we can just head over for lunch." He smirked suddenly. "What is for lunch?" Mardy laughed and shook his head. "Probably something simple. Maybe some ham sandwiches and potato salad. I might have some biscuits to use for the bread." Andy perked up at that and grabbed Mardy's hand, dragging him over to the saloon. "You go clean up and after you're done, I'll clean up and while I'm cleaning up, you can make us some lunch." Grinning, Mardy headed into his room to bathe. When he came out, Andy shoved him towards the kitchen and then ducked into his room. Mardy started to object to Andy using his dirty bath water, but Andy shut the door in his face, so Mardy just shrugged and went to make lunch for Andy, Lleyton and himself. Roger bounced in his seat, ignoring Tommy and Marat as they told him to calm down. According to their stage coach driver, they were only a couple of hours from Bluebonnet and Roger couldn't wait to get to their new home. He wondered absently if the Sheriff was a real cowboy who got to shoot the bad guys. Then his thoughts drifted to what he'd heard Marat and Tommy talking about earlier in their trip. He knew they were together frequently but they hadn't so much as kissed on the entire trip out west. He didn't know for sure why, but he thought that maybe it had something to do with him.He turned to Tommy excitedly. "There is a river ahead. Are we going to cross the river? Or do we have to go around?"Tommy smiled at him and patted his hand. "I don't know. I would assume we're crossing here, or our driver would have taken us to the crossing point somewhere else." "Oh." Roger stuck his head out the window, eyes wide. He heard Marat admonishing Tommy to tell him to pull his head in, but he knew that Tommy wouldn't make him. Even if it was Marat, Tommy hated anyone telling him how to take care of Roger. He bounced ever harder in his seat as they got closer to the river. "I think we're going to cross the river. Will we get wet?" he asked, not ducking in this time to ask Tommy. "I don't know, Rogi. I guess we might if the river is deep enough." Roger grinned and then frowned slightly when the horses started through the water. "Will the horses get cold?" he asked, pulling his head in to stare at Tommy. "I don't want the horses to get sick." "I'm sure the horses are used to this trip and they won't get sick. They may get a little cold, but the rest of the trip will warm them right up." "Oh. Okay." Roger turned his attention back to the river, pulling his feet up on the seat when the river started to rise. "Uhm Hasi? The water is coming in!" Tommy pulled him close and stroked his hand over Roger's arm. "It's okay. We might get a little wet, but we can dry off and we won't get sick." "Boys!" the driver suddenly yelled. "I need you to climb on top of the coach. The water's rising too fast and runnin' too hard." Roger's eyes widened and he shook his head, clinging to Tommy. "What if we get swept away?" "Rogi, Marat and I won't let you get swept away, I promise. I can swim and..." Tommy trailed off, glancing at Marat who nodded. "And so can Marat, so we'll rescue you." Roger whimpered, but let Tommy and Marat help him onto the roof where he continued clinging to the German. They were still stuck on top when Roger caught sight of two men riding in from the west, one very handsome with a hat and the other a startlingly pretty blonde. His eyes widened slightly as one of the men grabbed the horses that the driver had let go and started into the water. "I just bought these boots, Sampras," the man with the hat grumbled as he continued towards the coach."I'll pay for new ones for ya, Sheriff. I'm real sorry about this," Pete said before he climbed down to his seat and hooked the horses back up. He turned to Roger, Tommy and Marat and said, "You boys climb on down now. I don't want you falling in the water." Roger shook his head as he clung to Tommy. The man with the hat pushed his horse through the water until he was side by side with the coach. "Hello there. I'm Sheriff Andy Roddick. Why don't you come down here and I'll get you to safety?" Roger stared at the proffered hand and turned to Tommy, babbling in German as he tried to talk Tommy into going with him or even better, not making him go at all. But the blonde had rode up to the other side of the coach and Tommy was staring at him. Finally, Roger gave up trying to talk to Tommy and grabbed onto the Sheriff's hand. Before he could say anything, he was being tugged onto the huge horse and his eyes widened and he clung to the Sheriff as the Sheriff murmured, "It's all right, there. I've got you and I ain't gonna let nothing hurt you, okay?" "What happened, Pete?" Andy asked, and Roger had to fight not to purr as Andy began petting him. "She started to topple, Andy, I swear to God. I got them boys out of the rig and was about to get into the water to steady the horses when I heard something snap and the horses took off without us. I was gonna get us on the horses, but I couldn't stop 'em." "Well, these things happen. I can't believe the creek's this high. We ain't had much rain and the snow was nothing this year, even up in the peaks." Andy grunted when Roger squeezed him. He'd made the mistake of looking down at the water and had suddenly gotten very scared that the Sheriff would drop him. "Relax, little one. It's okay. You're okay." Once they were on dry land, Andy helped him to the ground and Roger almost reluctantly headed towards Tommy and Marat as the blonde went to talk to the driver and the Sheriff. He hugged Marat, and then snuggled against Tommy's side. "I thought I was going to fall in!" Tommy smiled and hugged him lightly. "It's all right. You were perfectly safe with the Sheriff." He started to say more, but was cut off by the Sheriff. "Hey, one of you the new town doc?" Andy asked. Roger smiled shyly and turned to Tommy, saying, "He's very cute. Don't you think he's cute? I like him." Tommy smiled down at Roger, then stepped forward and nodded. "That would be me. Tommy Haas." "Nice to meet you, Doc." Andy shook hands with him and nodded back. "I'm Andy, that's Mardy." Andy pointed to the blonde. Tommy's eyes flickered towards Mardy and he smiled slightly. "We... met." He gestured behind himself. "The tall one is Marat Safin. He's the new blacksmith. The other one is Roger... he is... my little brother." Roger beamed, feeling that warm, fuzzy feeling he always felt whenever Tommy referred to him as his brother. He knew they weren't really brothers, but they'd been telling people they were for so long, that it had become almost as much a habit as breathing.Andy nodded and gestured to the stage coach. "Well, the stage coach may be a bit wet, but at least you won't have to swim to your seats... and it's not much farther to town." Tommy smiled, before he asked, "Will... well, what I mean to ask is, will we have a place to stay? When I was corresponding with the... well, I guess you; nothing was mentioned about living quarters." Andy raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Mardy here owns the town bar. It doubles as a hotel when needed. He'll give you a couple of rooms until you start making money, then you can look into either renting out the place over your offices or building yourself a house." "Tommy?" Roger asked, knowing he was whining, but not caring. Tommy had promised him a house and Roger was tired of waiting for one. He wanted a house now. He didn't want to have to wait any longer. "I told you, Roger, we will have a house. It'll just be a while before we can afford it." Tommy smiled at Roger and hugged him lightly."Sooner, rather than later, I'd wager," Andy said winking at Roger. "Folks from all around are gonna be lining up to see your brother here. We're in need of a doctor something fierce." Roger suddenly felt inexplicably shy as he tilted his head up and smiled. "You talk funny." The Sheriff smiled. "Well now, you talk funny to me, so..." He winked and gestured towards the stage coach again. "Let's get going, boys. I've got a town to get back to and Mardy's got to get back to his business." Roger climbed back onto the stage coach, glancing over his shoulder at Andy as Marat and Tommy started talking about the blonde. But Roger's thoughts were on the Sheriff and he couldn't stop himself from wondering if the Sheriff and the blonde were together like Marat and Tommy. He hoped not, because he really liked the Sheriff and couldn't stop remembering how the Sheriff's hands had felt when he'd held Roger close. Andy was suddenly riding alongside the stage coach. He glanced in and smiled at Roger before asking, "Do you like horses Roger?" Roger nodded, eyes flicking to the horse under the Sheriff as he replied, "Ja, very much." "What are you going to do with your days while Tommy works on patients and... Marat? And Marat here works at the blacksmith station." Roger shrugged and leaned out the coach's window. "I don't know. I was kind of hoping Marat would let me help him, but he says I don't want to be his apprentice. You're really the Sheriff? Like a real cowboy?" "Well, no. I ain't a cowboy no more. I used to be. Fact is, Mardy and I needed to get away from the cattle ranches. Too many dangers working in cattle towns. Bluebonnet's much quieter and a lot nicer." Roger would swear the man was lying about something, but he didn't really care. Tommy had technically lied about them being brothers so he couldn't complain if the Sheriff lied about himself and the blonde's past."Does your town have a school?" he asked, more to just hear the Sheriff's voice than because he cared. He did like school and enjoyed teaching, but right now he was more interested in learning everything he could about the Sheriff. At Andy's puzzled look, Tommy answered the unasked question, "Roger enjoys learning and teaching, even though he has the patience of eine Katzechen." "You wanna repeat that in English?" Andy raised an eyebrow and smiled as Roger blushed. There were times when he really hated the way Tommy treated him like a child. "I apologize. I forget sometimes." Tommy sighed and Roger knew he was angry with himself for slipping into German. Andy nodded and smiled at Tommy. "Quite all right, Doc." "It means a kitten," Tommy said, his hand stroking down Roger's back."Oh. Hyper, are ya?" Andy asked and Roger blushed and sat back. He really liked the Sheriff, but for some reason, just talking to Andy made him feel tongue tied. "Also shy," he added with a wink at Roger. "I think you folks'll like being in Bluebonnet. Much quieter than anything in the East... or so I'm told." "You've lived out here long?" Marat asked suddenly. "You don't sound like these two." "Nyet. I am from Russia." "Ah. And they're from?" Roger opened his mouth to reply, but Tommy beat him to the answer. "Germany.""Ah. Europe, right? Well, that's just fine. As to the answer to your question, Marat, I was born in the Nebraska territories, but I've lived in Texas since I was just a little 'un." "Will there be much business for me?" Marat asked, and Roger turned his head, surprised the big man was acting so angry with the Sheriff. Andy chuckled and Roger shivered slightly as the sound made his stomach curl up in happiness. "You can bet you'll be having people lined up in the streets as well as the doc here. We ain't had a doc or a blacksmith in a long time." "We'll be able to get a house?" Roger asked Tommy, biting his lip. He knew he sounded almost too hopeful, but Tommy had been promising him his house for years and he just hated the thought of waiting any longer and he absolutely could not stomach the thought of living in another apartment building. "Is that all you want, Roger?" Andy asked him. Roger nodded. "A home." "A home is a good thing, but out here you need friends." "I've got friends." Roger gestured to Tommy and Marat. "I want a home." "Ya can't have too many friends. But, I'm sure you'll get your home, and sooner rather than later." Roger smiled and the Sheriff smiled back. Andy scooted his horse closer. "Would you like to ride into your new town with me, Roger?" Roger's eyes widened and he looked at Tommy and Marat. Marat started to object-- Roger could read his expression perfectly-- but Tommy nodded. "Go on." Andy called up to the driver to let him get Roger out of the coach and Pete pulled the coach to a stop. Roger clambered out and let Andy help him onto his horse, settling Roger in front of him. Roger wiggled, trying to get comfortable, but he'd never ridden on a horse this way and it wasn't easy to find a good position."Roger, please, settle down," Andy asked."Oh... sorry. Of course." He didn't really understand why Andy sounded so strangled, but he would probably do anything the man asked, even though they'd just met, so he wiggled a little more, then settled down, smiling when Andy placed his arms around him and lifted the reins, spurring his horse forward. Roger gasped as he first caught sight of the small town and Andy murmured, "She's not much, but she's a lovely town, isn't she?" "This is Bluebonnet?" Roger asked, turning his head to look at Andy. Andy nodded. "Sure is." "It's beautiful. Perfect." Roger turned back around, smiling brightly. Andy slowed down and Roger stared at the buildings. There weren't many of them, but the town looked clean and nicer than any of the cities he'd ever lived in. Andy pointed out a huge oak tree that stood next to what Andy said was a real saloon and Roger's eyes widened, especially when Andy said they didn't know how old the tree was, but it was older than the town. Finally, Andy pulled to a stop and dismounted, then reached up and helped Roger down. Roger slid into his arms and snuggled against him, enjoying the warmth of the arms around him when he heard a voice saying, "Well, now... what have we here? More fine young flesh for Mardy's whorehouse?" Roger frowned and started to turn, but he was quickly shoved behind Andy as the Sheriff turned to face the old, bald man. "Ya know, Agassi... you're really starting to tick me off. This is Roger, he's the new doc's brother. Touch him, and you'll lose a hand." Roger grinned at that and nearly hugged Andy, but the man named Agassi's next words made him scowl. "Well, maybe I will leave this one alone... looks like there's plenty of fresh meat in town." He heard Andy growl and say, "That's the new doc... you upset him in any way, I'll shut you down." Agassi replied, "You can't do that." Andy laughed, the sound somewhat angry as he said, "Agassi, I'm the law here. I can do whatever I damn well please." Andy turned to Roger and said, "That was Andre Agassi. He's in charge of the general store. Stay away from him as much as possible."Roger nodded and leaned up, kissing Andy's cheek. "Thank you for showing me the town." He wanted to say more-- wanted to do more, but the Sheriff made him very nervous in that happy, stomach tightening way, so he ran to catch up to Tommy and Marat and he hooked his arm through Tommy's beaming up at his "brother". He wasn't sure how he knew it, but he knew deep down inside that the Sheriff was going to be his and this town would be their home. He could finally settle in somewhere and never have to worry about being taken care of again. He couldn't wait for the future to get started because he was finally home.
10705593	Let Me Be Your Last	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Satya \"Symmetra\" Vaswani, Mei-Ling Zhou", "Fandom": "Overwatch (Video Game)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by euhemeria", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-23T00:00:00", "words": "3,477", "Additional Tags": "Getting Together, Character Study, Fluff, Character Development", "Relationship": "Satya \"Symmetra\" Vaswani/Mei-Ling Zhou", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "And, In Sign of Ancient Love, Their Plighted Hands They Join", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	I.Satya's earliest introduction to Mei is not a formal one, nor indeed is it one in which the two of them meet at all. Instead, it comes in the form of a name repeated, time and again, in the whispers of other architechture students: Zhou Mei-Ling.While Satya is not prone to gossiping, and would far prefer silence in the classroom, she cannot help but overhear her classmates, loud as they are, and to learn from them the fate of Watchpoint: Antarctica. Somehow, amidst the turmoil of Overwatch falling, an entire Watchpoint has disappeared, as if it never existed at all. The mystery of the thing is what captivates Satya's peers, the morbid curiosity about the fate of the climatologists stationed at the doomed Watchpoint, but it is not this which intrigues Satya.Generally, Satya regards news of the world outside of Vishkar and her studies as irrelevant, as something which will only distract her from her mission to better the world, but stories like this one, or the Tacoma Narrows Bridge, or the Lotus Riverside, stories of structural failings, poor urban planning and Watchpoints disappearing—they fascinate Satya. Order, she knows, is necessary in order to ensure that buildings function, that things stay in their rightful place. And so, the disappearance of one Zhou Mei-Ling and her team is one which intrigues her, serving as a cautionary tale.Like so many others in the decade to come, Satya reads all that she can about the missing Watchpoint, trying to piece together what went wrong that allowed an entire research station, built by the most powerful geopolitical entity on the planet, to simply disappear.In the years following Watchpoint: Antarctica's disappearance, Satya learns all she can about the doomed expedition, and comes to know Zhou Mei-Ling, and all those who travelled with her, as well as she knows anyone else. II.When Mei returns to civilization after a decade spent in cryostasis, the world as she once knew it has disappeared. Furthermore, even if she were familiar with her surroundings, she finds that she is easily overwhelmed in this strange future by sights, by sounds and smells, after so many years spent seeing, hearing, smelling, feeling nothing, locked in the ice as she was. It is all Mei can do, crossing the busy London streets, to try and stay calm, and not allow herself to become overwhelmed by the world around her, by the thousand sensory experiences her body has forgotten.In a panic, Mei finds herself looking up, up, trying to see the sky, to remind herself that there remains, somewhere, vast emptiness, space uncrowded by people, by cars, by bright lights. Instead, Mei's eyes find a billboard for Architech magazine, and on it a woman, face blank and aura commanding. Something about her is calming, and Mei focuses on it as she breathes, in and out, in and out, until she once again feels able to proceed.At Heathrow, boarding a flight to Gibraltar, Mei purchases a copy of the magazine, and reads the profile on Satya Vaswani, the woman on the billboard. While she understands little of the technical aspects of the interview, hard light manipulation having been in its infancy at the time she left for Watchpoint: Antarctica, Mei finds the interview itself reassuring. Dr. Vaswani seems so certain that the future will be a good one, that she and her fellows at Vishkar are going to right wrongs in the chaotic world Mei has found herself returning to, and Mei, reading her words, takes hope.Perhaps the world Mei has returned to is not the one she left, but the people in it are not unhappy, are working to better the world, just as Overwatch once did, and that is worth something. III.A decade after the disappearance of Watchpoint: Antarctica, Satya Vaswani is a changed woman. No longer does she have the faith in the Vishkar Corporation which so defined her younger self; as a matter of fact, she finds herself doubting the actions and motivations of the organization more and more with each passing day. As much as Satya hates change, she knows a change is coming, and doubts it will be for the better, fears for her future, fears that all she has worked towards has been for naught, and that the rules by which she defined her reality are not truly hard and fast.So, it is with relief that Satya immerses herself once again in the world of Zhou Mei-Ling, climatologist turned adventurer. Dr. Zhou's writing about her travels, about adjusting to a world which is not the one she left behind captivates Satya. In the beginning, her renewed fascination serves as a distraction, as something upon which Satya can focus to avoid dwelling upon her concerns about her work, but quickly, it transforms into something more. Reading Dr. Zhou's journals, and the optimism with which she approaches a changed world intrigues Satya, and she finds herself comparing their situations.Surely, if Dr. Zhou can miss a decade of history, can return to find her former employer made illegal by international treatise, and some of her coworkers convicted of war crimes, and still remain the same happy, hopeful woman she was before her disappearance, then the part of Satya which makes her the woman she is can remain constant in the absence of Vishkar.Even if her surroundings change, Satya begins to believe, she need not fear that change, for she herself need not be changed by it. What consistency she needs she can provide for herself. IV.When Mei meets her new coworkers, she takes an immediate liking to Lucio. Like she, he has lost friends, has seen great change, and works, every day, to remain positive, to take heart and believe in a better future for himself and those whom he cares about. Mei fights for the future of the world, and in fighting to defend the disenfranchised, so, too, does Lucio.Because of this connection, it is all the more surprising that Lucio is the one who first shakes Mei's faith in this new world. It is not, of course, his intent to do so—but in discussing the crimes committed by the Vishkar Corporation against the people of his community, he does so nonetheless.Unwittingly, Mei has built up the image of Dr. Satya Vaswani in her mind, has imagined that the woman's cool confidence in interviews and insistence that she is bettering the world are true, just as Mei believed the same of the former Overwatch, and it stings to learn that such is not the case.Still, Mei does not allow herself to be broken by such a revelation; it is clear that Dr. Vaswani believes she is bettering the world, as she said, and it is that belief, that confidence, which Mei was inspired by, the drive to better the world Dr. Vaswani seemed so shaped by. That drive is no less real, even if Mei no longer has faith in her methods.If cryostasis could not break Mei, then this cannot. She will move on, will move forward, will work still to make the world better, with Lucio and the rest of the Recalled Overwatch by her side.She will move forward, and she will allow herself to believe, deep down, that Dr. Satya Vaswani is trying to help others, and better the world. She will move forward, and believe that other people are basically good. There is no alternative. V.In the end, Satya leaves Vishkar. She does not want to, is hurt by leaving, and find the necessity of changing her routine an added anxiety in what is now an uncertain future, but what choice has she? If Vishkar lied to her, for years—and they did—what would stop them from lying about their intent to create order, from lying about what happens in the communities she builds after she leaves them?Satya was born to create order, to bring harmony, everything in its proper place, and that is what she will do—but not under the oversight of another. For her to truly achieve what it was she was meant to, for her to do what she must, she can no longer be blinded by another, can no longer be beholden to the will of another. She must control her own destiny, and so she goes to the one place where she knows she will be free to do as she wills—Overwatch.In the old Overwatch, Satya might have had difficulty with adjusting, with learning to fit her own schedule and needs within a rigid military structure, but the new, smaller Overwatch eschews such formality, and she is free to govern herself. She may sleep alone, eat alone, and study alone. The only think which she may not do alone, Winston tells her, as he leads her on a tour of the Watchpoint, is work.Before Satya can protest, can insist that she works best alone, Winston is ushering her into her shared laboratory. But, much to Satya's surprise, her new lab partner—something she has not had since she was scarcely more than a girl, and the word is bitter even to think—is familiar to her. Dr. Zhou. VI.When the time comes for Mei to meet Dr. Vaswani in person, she chokes. Normally, Mei is gracious to a fault—working for long periods of time with people in a remote location is more than enough to teach one the importance of being polite—but when confronted with a woman whom Mei already has conflicted feelings about, a woman who has been important in her life without the two of them having ever truly met, a woman about whom Mei has heard terrible things from a trusted friend... when meeting with such a woman, what could Mei say? What could anyone?What Mei wants is to introduce herself, like she ought to, to make a good impression in order to avoid any awkwardness when working around one another in a small laboratory. What Mei wants is to ask Dr. Vaswani questions—Why did you do it? Did you know? Why leave now? Did you mean what you said, about a better world, or was it all an act? Who were you to decide what future was best for humanity?—but they are not questions which are appropriate to ask a person whom one has just met, even if she feels she and Dr. Vaswani have known each other for years, now. What Mei wants is to comfort Dr. Vaswani, to tell her all will be well, to reassure her that even if things are rocky here in the beginning, she too can belong, to tell her that in leaving Vishkar she has made the right decision, is doing the right thing.Instead, Mei freezes. She sees Dr. Vaswani's reflection in the window above her workspace, hears Winston introduce her, and faced with a thousand things she could say, Mei says none of them.It is an inauspicious beginning, in Mei's mind. VII.Satya's new colleague works diligently beside her, never faltering in her work, never stopping to say a word. It is their fifth day together, in this space, and Satya could count on the fingers of her prosthesis all of their interactions, were she so inclined.Coldness is not in Dr. Zhou's nature, Satya knows, for she has seen her after the both of them have left the lab, discussing Dr. Winston's work with him, teasing Dr. Ziegler about her interest in Lieutenant Amari, and laughing along with dos Santos. Yet, during their time in the office, Dr. Zhou speaks hardly a word to her.While she does not begrudge Dr. Zhou her professionalism, could never find fault in a decision to focus on work rather than to chat idly, questions bubble under Satya's skin, always threatening to spill to the surface. She wants to ask about what truly happened at Ecopoint: Antarctica, wants to know how it is that Dr. Zhou was able to return, after such an event, to her prior work and employers, knowing that they left her for dead, wants to learn how it is that she has been able to move on, to continue on, much the same as before, in a world where everything is unfamiliar.Years with Vishkar have taught Satya not to question, but to accept, and she would, were it not for the lingering thought that questioning might have lead her to leave Vishkar sooner, were it not for the way that the questions stay just under the surface of their conversations, like an itch, were it not for the fact that Satya does not care, truly, for propriety, and needs answers.So, she asks. VIII.Dr. Vaswani's first question catches Mei off-guard. Perhaps it should not, given both Dr. Vaswani's reputation for directness—which, as a fellow PhD, Mei is hardly made uncomfortable by or unused to—but it is, nonetheless, a surprise, if a welcome one.After all, Mei has questions of her own.So, to the best of her ability, she answers Satya's questions (for they have agreed, at Mei's own insistence, that if they are to discuss matters such as these, then they ought not be too formal with one another). Not all of the questions are easy, and there are some which Mei cannot find the words to express an answer to, but she tries—because she thinks Satya needs a friend here, yes, because she is growing fond of Satya the woman and not Dr. Vaswani the figure, too, but mainly because the questions are ones which she finds she needs to answer for herself, as well.Soon enough, they find their equilibrium, find a way to work together and, at the same time, work towards understanding one another, and themselves. It is not an easy camaraderie, but it is one which Mei suspects both of them need, in the moment.A part of Mei is afraid of this, is afraid to have a new close friend—knows what can happen, to those whom she cares for, all too quickly, if she allows herself to let her guard down even for a moment. Yet, she finds that she already cares for Satya far too much to turn back now. She cannot allow herself not to live for fear of loss, cannot shut herself off from happiness. It is possible that things may change, again, but she is learning to accept that, or trying to. IX.While Mei is dealing with a fear of vulnerability, of losing what it is they have, Satya herself is wondering if perhaps, this is what true friendship feels like, and if the reason she never felt so deeply for any of her colleagues before was the influence of Vishkar, of the environment they created within their ranks. Satya has had friends before, of course, and close friends... but none so close as she and Mei, and none whom she has felt towards in quite the same way, for whom her chest clenched when she saw them in danger.It is... difficult, when they are fighting, together. Satya's turrets are designed to secure an area, and to protect those within it, but they are not enough, not always, and she wishes she were better armored, that she might better defend those around her, might better defend her teammates, might better defend Mei.To wear armor would compromise her flexibility, would make it more difficult for her to wield hard light and to create defenses as she is accustomed, so it is not an option... but hard light, hard light itself is flexible enough to protect and not to inhibit movement.So Satya does what she does best: she dances, she builds, she creates, she shapes reality, bends it to her will in such a way that she can protect not only herself, but all of those around her.As Satya places her first shield generator, feels the curious buzz of hard light come to rest against her skin, she realizes, suddenly, what the feeling is that drove her to this, what compelled her to defend and to protect.Satya loves Mei. She is in love with Mei.It is a strange thing to realize—for Satya has known desire, has known attraction, has been in relationships, but she has never been certain, until now, that she has felt love. And now, without even realizing it was happening, she has found herself in love with another person.Without a doubt, love is not something to rush into, however, and things are moving a good deal faster than Satya would wish—even if the only change has been a shift in her own perception, an ability to see that which she overlooked before—and so, Satya decides not to speak first, this time, decides to approach the issue carefully, and to ascertain Mei's own feelings before she proceeds. X.Eventually, Mei comes to accept a fear of losing Satya, comes to realize that, given the nature of the work she now finds herself doing with Overwatch now, that is always a possibility. Once she accepts that, she finds she can once again begin to relax, and to enjoy Satya’s presence, and the peace it brings with it.Truly, they work well together, are in harmony, with their needs and goals complimenting one another, and Mei thinks it is the perfect friendship, as beautiful and solid as one of Satya’s hard light constructions, or her own walls of ice.Until, that is, a thought comes along which shatters the peace.Satya is dancing, as the sun is setting, is weaving into being a new creation as she does so, when she steps into a ray of light, and Mei sees the way it warms her skin and thinks Oh. Oh, no. For suddenly, she realizes that Satya is beautiful, is more than, and the two of them have been growing closer, and Mei cannot believe that she could ever have been as happy as she is now, going into her lab every morning, without anticipating seeing Satya.Suddenly, although nothing outward has changed, Mei has created the change she fears, and now she finds herself worrying about what Satya would think, if she were to express an interest in her, finds herself worrying that her feelings might come between them, finds herself worrying that she is greedy for not simply accepting what it is they have, but wanting more. But try as she might, the thought does not leave her. —.On a battlefield a continent away from the Watchpoint they call home, two figures find themselves meeting, but not for the first time.They have met, time and again, by name and by reputation, as coworkers, as people, and as friends, and now, they find themselves meeting in a way which is entirely new.The battle which brought them there has ended, but they find themselves still walled off from everyone else, a pillar of ice closing them into a small room. The combatants who forced them into the room have left, or been killed, but they remain, sitting in silence—outwardly, it is not so different from how they might sit were they both at work in their lab. Yet, it is different, for earlier, there was a close call in which both of them might have been killed, and the knowledge sits like a third person in the room, shifts the dynamic they have come to find comfort in, pushes them to think of things differently. It sits there, creating silence between them which is different from their usual silence, is filled with words they cannot say.Until, one of them asks a question, worry in her voice, breaks the stalemate they have found themselves in entirely by accident.In response, there is silence, and then the groan of the ice as it shifts, a portion shearing off in the heat, before the other breaks out in surprised laughter. She says something so lowly that no one who was attempting to listen in might hear what it was she said, and it is assurance enough for her companion, who then laughs too, even if hers is laughter of relief.They have met, have been introduced, have come to know one another across the years, and in their lab, and now, they meet in another way, in another place, hidden from the eyes of all observers, one shyly, one with far more confidence, but together, as equals.This time, no words are exchanged in the meeting, but instead it is a kiss which signals a change, a kiss which will once again throw certainties of their lives into question, but this time—with the other at their side—neither of them fears it.
10770015	Total eclipse of the	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Cisco Ramon, Reader, You", "Fandom": "The Flash (TV 2014)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Idunn", "chapters": "1/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-30T00:00:00", "words": "735", "Additional Tags": "Reader-Insert, Chubby Reader, fat reader, Gift Fic, Flashpoint (DCU)", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Cisco Ramon/You, Cisco Ramon/Reader, Mr. Ramon - Relationship", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Francisco felt more than heard the noise of the party ebb and flow in the giant ballroom. Just thirty minutes more of this torture (even for a handsome, rich and charming young scientist like himself, going for a party mixer presenting the scientific breakthroughs of the year is a must. Yes, he needs to be aware of the competition to be ahead, he thought sipping his drink). After making the rounds, chatting investors and trading jibes with some old rivals, a weird laugh attracted his attention. Christina McGee wasn't alone like the last time. Of course having a companion at one of this parties isn't a requirement but is a way to stave boredom; Francisco himself has two tonight, two beautiful brunettes hanging of every word that falls from his mouth. Very flattering. But the person Christine was talking to didn't look like arm candy. (Or if she's a flavor of candy, is that weird mint from the mountains and lilacs chewing gum he had sometime). A woman not so young, maybe on her thirties and rather conservative looking, a fat woman dressed all in blue with a black shawl. (Not hot at all said his brain, even as his heart speeds up when he walks across the room to get close to them) -Hello Christine, how's is the Commission for Clean Energy treating you?- he asked the first thing that crossed his mind. From the corner of his eye, he saw the strange woman blush in response to his barging in into the conversation. He usually had that effect on people. -This man, my dear - said Christine to her companion - is Francisco Ramon, head of STAR Industries, lead scientist at STAR Labs. He's cute and charming if he needs to, but for the people who aren't important like himself, he shows a little more of his famous temper. She's the new DA Francisco. They send her in here all alone, her bosses. Are you sure they weren't punishing you for something sweetheart?- The woman laughed again, color high in her cheeks. Francisco sent off his own companions to the bar, too enthralled with the sound of her voice as she explained to him that yes, she's new and no, no transgressions had been committed. Just that her boss hated this kind of parties and she's fascinated with science, even if she can't understand it. -So tonight I'm paying attention if one of the companies dedicated to scientific advancement has something we could use to combat crime in Central City. After all, is a matter of prevention of crime, not more criminals in Iron Heights - said the woman, eyes full of mirth. She was rather attractive, all pink cheeked and shiny eyes, a thought that had taken firm hold in Francisco's mind. This woman was graceful as she moved her hands through the air, explaining that yes, of course the General Attorney wanted to fight crime, but with all the metas and stuff, you should fight smarter and not harder, isn't it? Francisco Ramon, head of STAR Industries and lead scientist at STAR Labs, was starting to feel quite hot under his three-pieces suit as he looked at the woman's ample bosom. It moved and jiggled as she gestured and laughed. Nothing to do with the (absent) arm candy at his arms, who had wandered pretty bored with the conversation thirty minutes ago. And Christine wasn't there too, he realized with a shudder. In fact, they were chatting all alone near one on the numerous balconies overlooking Central City bridge. She looked at him, a question in her eyes. A question... -Of course that STAR Labs cares about the rising meta-related crimes, my dear. And in that vein, I'll offer you a tour of the labs next week, if you want? We are researching some things that the CCPD could use. My card here has my office number and here - he searched dramatically for a pen in his suit pocket, acquiring a blush of his own as she opened her bag and loaned him one - is my cell phone number. The personal one. Call any time. I would love to hear from the DA's office. I have a lot of social conscience, you'll see.- She laughed at him but pocketed his card, so he counted it as a win. Seeing her leaving the ballroom, citing an urgent call from her boss, he knew he's fucked.
10713057	What a Day for a	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Phil Coulson, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark, Maria Hill", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by Teeelsie", "chapters": "6/6", "completed": "2017-10-02", "published": "2017-04-23T00:00:00", "words": "58,100", "Additional Tags": "Sex Pollen, Fuck Or Die, The kind of dub-con always implicit in this trope, Though in the moment they both want it really bad, Afterward not so much, This might actually tip over into non-con, But it's kind of grey so I'm not adding the Archive Warning, But please take care, Awkward Sexual Situations, Desperate Sex, Angst, Embarrassment, Trope Subversion/Inversion, written for the kinkmeme, non-graphic discussion of past child sexual/abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson", "Series": "Bad Things Happen Bingo", "Collections": "Excellent Clint Barton centric fiction", "Fandoms": "The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	“Have you identified the substance yet?” Rogers directs his question toward the small screen in the cockpit of the quinjet where they’ve quarantined themselves. He and Clint are shoulder to shoulder, leaning in close, looking at Phil Coulson, whose face is visible on the monitor. They’re both anxious for word about the unexpected gas they’d encountered -and inhaled - in the lab before they got out. “Yes,” Coulson answers. His voice sounds as smooth and calm as always, but Clint tenses because he can read Phil better than most. There was a microsecond of hesitation before he answered and there’s a tightness between his eyes that tells Clint that it’s definitely bad news coming. “What is it?” Rogers forges ahead, unawares, while Clint braces himself for the worst. There’s a much more noticeable pause this time before Phil answers. “Pseudophilias-Empulcoitus.” “Shit!” Clint mutters, standing up straight and stepping away from the screen. “Shit!” he swears again, louder this time as it sinks in, then smashes his fist into the wall. “Goddamn it,” he hisses, shaking his hand out. It was impulsive and stupid and he's no doubt bruised his knuckles badly, but the news Coulson just delivered has Clint reeling. Rogers looks at Clint, alarmed and confused, and then turns back to Coulson. “What? What is that?” Before Coulson can answer, Clint turns back to the screen and shoves Rogers aside a little; Rogers shoots him a look but doesn’t say anything. “Are you sure?” Clint asks, his face close to the feed. Coulson gives him an unhappy nod. “Is there any chance anyone else was exposed?” Phil asks. Of course Coulson’s primary concern is always for the big picture - It has to be - but Clint can’t stop a knot from forming in his chest. “No,” Rogers answers from over Clint’s shoulder, a slight expression of annoyance on his face. “There was no one around when we got there. I suppose some of the gas could have been released earlier, but it seemed intended for us. We destroyed the facility as per mission parameters.” He looks between Clint and Coulson on the screen. “Does one of you want to tell me what this is about?” he asks, a touch of impatience creeping into his voice. Phil ignores the question in favor of his own more urgent one. “What about the surrounding area? Could anyone have been exposed nearby?” Clint shakes his head rapidly. “No one else was in the vicinity. We already told you that!” he barks, trying – but largely failing – to keep his cool. "Besides, it was pretty clear that it was meant for us." Phil gives him a quelling look, and then glances past Clint to Rogers and clears his throat. Clint can see that Phil is supremely uncomfortable about telling Captain America what’s going to happen to them shortly, and something about that sits uneasily in the pit of Clint’s stomach. “Captain, you’ve been exposed to Pseudophilias-Empulcoitus. It’s a… pheromone, of sorts. The KGB developed it in the early 80s as an experiment in a type of psychological guerilla warfare.” “Is it dangerous? A contagion? Should we be evacuating nearby towns?” “No. It’s not contagious, and it requires a fairly concentrated dose in order to activate inside the human body. It also only has a half-life of ten minutes when exposed to air, so if no one else was in the facility or the immediate surroundings when it was released, there won’t be any broader concerns.” “But we do need to worry about Hawkeye and me,” Rogers states. Coulson’s implication was clear so it’s not a question. “Yes. From what you’ve told me, it’s likely you were both sufficiently exposed to... cause a reaction.” Rogers rubs his eyes with his fingers and thumb and sighs irritably. He’s clearly losing his ability to tolerate Coulson’s uncharacteristic lack of directness. “Agent Coulson, could you please just get to the point? What kind of reaction?” he asks in his Captain America voice when he looks up again. Clint watches Coulson closely as he pauses, his eyes flicking away from the screen, and then back before clearing his throat again. “Captain, beginning sometime in the next couple of hours, you will experience an uncontrollable need to copulate. Repeatedly. And if that need is not met, there will be fatal consequences.” Clint’s pretty sure he can see Phil’s face flush and his anger sparks. He doesn’t know what the hell Phil’s so bothered about – he’s not the one who’s about to go nearly insane with a need to fuck the person closest to him. Except that he thinks he does know. Phil’s admiration for Captain America is the worst kept secret at SHIELD. And Clint’s going to spend the next day or so fucking him – sullying Phil’s hero. “That’s ridiculous,” Rogers scoffs, then looks at Clint who nods his head gravely in confirmation. Clint has a sudden idea and pushes Rogers out of the way again. “Sir. The serum in Rogers’ blood. Any chance it would stop him from reacting?” he asks hopefully. Clint doesn’t fully understand how this shit works, but he knows that somehow, it stays neutral if only one person is exposed, requiring at least two people to react and cause the molecular bond, thereby activating the brain reaction. If Rogers doesn’t react to the substance, then Clint’s body will have nothing to react to, and maybe this whole problem goes away. But Coulson shakes his head grimly. “We don’t think so. I asked the neurobiology team that specifically. It’s not a pathogen so there’s nothing to kill. And it’s not a drug so there’s nothing to metabolize. The way the molecules adhere to the brain doesn’t trigger an immune response in the body. We can’t see any reason why Captain Rogers wouldn’t react the same as anyone else who was exposed.” Fuck. Clint’s hopes sink and he stands up straight, turning his back on the screen and Rogers, who looks to be in a state of shock. Clint wipes a hand down his face and closes his eyes. “Captain,” he hears Coulson say. “Would you give me a moment with Hawkeye?” Cap hesitates at the request – he’s obviously a little thrown by it. “Sure,” he finally answers, though sounding reluctant. “I could use some air,” he adds sounding annoyed. As he passes, Cap gives Clint a questioning look, clearing wondering what the hell is going on, but he leaves nonetheless. Clint watches until he sees Cap stepping out of the open rear hatch, then turns back to Phil and drops resignedly down into the seat. “Clint…” Phil starts, then stops, apparently at a loss for words. “Fuck,” Clint mumbles bitterly. “I’m sorry, Phil,” he adds, looking out the windscreen because he can’t quite make himself look at Phil just now. “What are you sorry for?” he asks, a slight edge to his voice. Clint shoots a glance over his shoulder, even though they both know Cap can’t hear them, then finally looks at Phil. “Well, I’m apparently going to spend the next day or so in a state of complete infidelity, for one. And I’ll be corrupting your boyhood hero-slash-crush, for another.” Clint rubs his face with both hands so he has an excuse not to look at Phil’s expression for a couple of seconds. When he looks back at Phil, he can see the man is hasn’t fallen for his ploy and is waiting for him. “Clint. This isn’t infidelity, and none of this is your fault. It’s beyond your control.” Clint sighs and closes his eyes. “Right,” he says, his mouth suddenly gone dry and a wave of nausea hitting him deep in his stomach. Beyond his control - just like Loki all over again. At least this time nobody should end up dead. But it doesn’t escape his notice that Phil didn’t exonerate him from the part about sullying America’s poster-boy for goodness and virtue. Fucking great. “Clint-” But Clint is shaking his head before Phil can go on, because, no, goddamn it. This whole thing is bad enough without having to pick it apart emotionally. “Look, Phil… we both know this isn’t how we do this, right? Cap and I just need to… get through this. I promise I’ll do my best to not to fuck him up too badly,” he says grimly, standing abruptly and flicking his eyes to the screen for a split second. “I’ll go get Rogers.” “Clint,” Phil starts, but Clint ignores him and keeps moving to leave the cockpit. “Agent Barton!” Coulson barks. Clint stops, all the muscles in his body rigid with conflict and tension. But Coulson is still the boss and when they started this thing between them, they both understood that the only way it could ever work was if they could separate the missions from the personal. And keeping it professional had worked – this was the first time that anything personal between them had started to bleed over into the field. Clint forces his body to relax and turns toward the screen again, his face carefully blank. Coulson scrutinizes his face for a moment. “Are you going to be okay?” he eventually asks, his voice quiet and gentle. Clint stiffens again at Coulson’s tone. The only way Clint is going to get through this shit with his dignity intact is if they keep this solidly professional. And he doesn’t fucking need to be coddled. Clint squares his shoulders and ignores the question. “How much time do you think we have before it kicks in?” he asks, shifting subjects to derail wherever Phil was going with that and move the conversation back to a place Clint can deal with. Phil pauses, clearly weighing whether or not to try to continue the more personal conversation. “A couple of hours, tops. Probably less.” It would be nice if they didn’t have to deal with this here, but they’re in the middle-of-fucking-nowhere-Canada, at least 5 hours out on the quinjet. Clint looks toward the open hatch where Rogers had disappeared. “Right. Okay. I should go…” Clint turns back and sees that Coulson is staring past Clint to where Captain America disappeared to, with an unusually unguarded and pained expression on his face. When Phil blinks his gaze back to Clint and sees him watching, he looks uncomfortable, and Clint does his best to keep his face neutral and not let Phil see how much that just ripped at his guts. Phil clears his throat and shifts back into mission mode. “You know the protocols, Agent,” Phil says, all business again. “Secure the quinjet and stay inside for the duration. Remain contained for 12 hours past the last… interaction.” Clint snorts bitterly at that. “Yes, Sir,” he answers tightly. “You want to stay hydrated,” Coulson continues in his no-nonsense way. “Get as much water as you can and have it close to hand. Food is good, too, if you can manage it, but probably you’ll be too… preoccupied,” he says awkwardly. “I know,” Clint grits out, arms folded defensively across his chest. He seriously does not need Coulson going over the fine points of how to survive a fuckathon. “Leave the emergency channel open. I’ll make sure no one tries to contact you, but if you need anything, I’ll be available.” Clint pins Coulson with a hard glare. “With all due respect, Sir. I don’t think you’ll be able to give me anything I need for the next 24 hours.” Coulson’s face shifts into something like regret and it looks like he’s about to get personal again, so Clint cuts him off. “Are we done?” Clint manages between clenched teeth. There’s a beat and Phil seems to deflate a little before he answers, his voice annoyingly gentle. “Yes. I’ll see you in a couple of days, Agent.” “Sure,” Clint snaps, then reaches out and ruthlessly cuts the connection, knowing it’s petulant but not able to stop himself. He’s irritated by his own reaction to Coulson and feels dirty (already) just thinking about what’s coming between him and Cap. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and drops his face into his hands, breathing shakily. “I had more questions,” Cap says from behind him and Clint startles, sitting up, surprised that he didn’t hear the man approaching. “I can probably answer them,” Clint sighs. “If not, Coulson’s leaving the channel clear if we need to contact base.” “Alright,” Rogers says, clearly unhappy but not pushing it. He steps over and sits down in the other cockpit seat. Clint looks at Rogers and realizes that he’s waiting for Clint to fill him in, so he sits up straighter and puts his own professional mask back on. “Pseudophilias-Empulcoitus.” “Yeah, I heard that part,” Rogers snaps, his battle to retain his patience clearly lost. “What the hell is it?” “It’s like a… an incredibly potent aphrodisiac. People who are exposed to it pretty much feel compelled to have sex. Like, a lot. And for a very long time.” Clint winces his discomfort. There’s a moment of loaded silence and now Rogers’s brow is furrowed furiously. Clint sighs heavily. “Okay, look,” he continues. “Sometime in the next couple of hours, the two of us are going to want to fuck each other and we’re pretty much not going to be able to stop.” Clint forces himself to hold Cap’s gaze, resisting the urge to flick his eyes to the empty screen where Coulson was just a few moments ago. “That’s ridiculous,” Rogers scoffs, clearly disbelieving. “Yeah, I used to think so, too. There’d been rumors about the stuff and consensus was that it was an urban myth. But then about seven years ago I was part of a raid on a Hydra lab and they had some stolen KGB materials. Along with the substance itself, they had lab reports, patient files… videotape…” Clint looks awkwardly at Rogers. “And then about three years ago, some techs at a SHIELD lab were analyzing some of it and they were accidentally exposed to some, and… trust me, it’s real.” “How…?” Rogers stops himself and seems to shift gears. “When you say ‘for a very long time’, what do you mean?” “I mean for, like, 18 hours straight. Maybe more. It varies depending on how big a dose you get." Clint pauses. "It seemed like we got a pretty concentrated dose,” he says with a grimace, remembering the thick mist that had unexpectedly hit them both as they searched the bunker. “Eighteen hours! How is that possible?” Rogers asks – or more like chokes. It looks a lot like Captain America is as close to freaking out as Clint has ever seen him. Clint shrugs. “No idea. Somehow the shit makes it possible. Some fucking psycho dreamed it up.” “Okay… okay,” Rogers pauses, considering, then looks back up at Clint. “So, when you say we’re going to want to…” he stops and clears his throat, “… fuck each other,” he winces visibly, “what are you saying, exactly?” “Oh, god,” Clint groans and covers his eyes for a second, trying to come to grips with the conversation. After a moment, he steels himself and looks back at Cap. “I’m saying that there is no force on earth that is going to be able to stop us from fucking each other. You’re going to want to fuck me and I’m going to want to fuck you and if we don’t fuck each other, our brains are going to melt. Literally.” “Well, why can’t we,” Rogers swallows nervously, his face turning red. “Why can’t we just… separate. And… you know… be alone.” Clint huffs ruefully. “Yeah, masturbating doesn’t work, apparently.” Clint sees Rogers’s face turn even redder – which Clint didn’t actually think would have been possible. “It’s not so much a… orgasm-thing,” he feels his own face flush, “as a… attraction to the other person-thing. It’s the pheromones. They mess with your brain, somehow. If there’s an upside to this at all, it’s that, as I understand it, we’re both going to want this really badly. We aren’t really going to be trying to resist it.” “But I’m not… I don’t…” Cap stops and looks confused. “If we’re not gay…” Clint sighs. For now, he ignores the ‘we’ in Cap’s observation. He’s pretty sure it’s inevitable that they’ll get around to that eventually, but it can wait. “It doesn’t matter, Cap. The…stuff… sort of breaks down those barriers. Just makes you want whoever is closest to you when you’re exposed, regardless of orientation. There’s some sort of chemical connection that happens instantaneously.” “But I don’t understand. If we aren’t around each other, we could just ride it out…” Cap posits, clearly desperate for an ‘out’. Clint’s shaking his head again. “It’s not that simple, unfortunately. If you’re exposed in close proximity to another person, your receptors and the other person’s receptors… bind or something. Argh… Banner could explain this a lot better," he grumbles in frustration. “It acts on the hypothalamus, which regulates all kinds of things in your body. Temperature, hormones, sex drive. Those KGB bastards ran all kinds of experiments. One series of tests exposed people together and then locked them up separately in different rooms. Without the receptor-partner to… be with, their hypothalamus overheated and literally cooked their brains.” “So, Coulson wasn’t exaggerating? It killed them?” Rogers asks, incredulous. “Yeah,” Clint answers wearily. “They had video.” Clint grimaces at the memory of watching the subjects of that particular experiment suffer – screaming and begging for relief for hours before simply collapsing, dead. “Unfortunately, we’re stuck with each other.” Clint closes his eyes. “Sorry,” he adds quietly. Rogers is silent for a minute. “But if we have sex, we’ll… be fine?” Clint nods his head, eyes still closed. “Yep. We fuck our brains out for a day and then,” he gestures vaguely, “all better. Apparently, no after-effects.” Except mortification, Clint thinks. He hears Rogers take a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Alright, we do what we need to do and then we move forward,” he says, Captain America voice back in place again. Clint laughs humorlessly. “Yep, easy as that.” He finally opens his eyes and looks at Cap. For all that he’s trying to put on a brave face, he still looks unsettled as hell. Clint understands exactly how he feels. They sit in silence for a while, Rogers looking out the windscreen now and Clint staring toward the rear hatch. After a moment, Cap shifts in his seat and Clint turns. “I’m, um… I’m not really sure what the mechanics of this would be…” he tells Clint awkwardly. “Right,” Clint sighs. As much as he’d love to bury his head in the sand, they should probably prepare for what’s to come. Reluctantly, he stands up and walks out of the cockpit, heading to the back of the plane where the medical supplies are kept. Rogers follows, but mercifully, he doesn’t ask any more questions for now. Clint goes to the good-sized medical cabinet and digs around until he finds the jar of petroleum jelly. It’s not huge, but it’s more than enough to get them started, and from what he saw on those videos, there will be plenty of natural lubrication to ease the way once they get going. He tosses it to Rogers then heads to the small galley where he grabs a few boxes of high-protein meal-replacement bars and tosses them to Cap as well. Then he grabs two cases of bottled water and carries them into the small bunkroom that seems to be the most logical place for them to do this thing. He sets the water in a cubbyhole, then pulls a lever, releasing a bed from where it had been folded up into the wall. Sometime after the Initiative started, someone – Stark probably – designed a retrofit into the quinjets, replacing the small, double bunks with one bigger one to accommodate the larger than life Avengers. Small mercies, Clint thinks; at least they won’t have to try to negotiate having sex on a bunk generally barely big enough for one person, much less two. After dropping it down, Clint walks directly over to the door. What’re you doing?” Cap asks as Clint reaches up and pries open the small air vent above the opening. “Getting rid of SHIELD’s video surveillance,” he answers as he ruthlessly rips the tiny optical device from the wall, sending sparks and wires flying. He drops it on the floor and then smashes it with the heel of his boot to make good and sure it’s completely dead. Rogers is standing stunned in the middle of the room and Clint moves across it to do the same with the one he knows is hidden in the frame of a small storage compartment. “SHIELD is spying on us on the quinjet?” Clint snorts. “SHIELD is spying on us everywhere. Except maybe the Tower, because I don’t think they can get past Stark’s security.” “Would they… would they have watched?” Rogers asks, horrified, as Clint tears the last one he’s aware of from its camouflaged placement. “Probably not Coulson,” Clint has to admit, because at his core, he doesn’t think Phil would do that to him. “But we know that he’s talked to the neurobiologists about the situation, and who knows who else knows by now. I wouldn’t put it past any of them to try to record it.” Rogers looks warily around the small room and at Clint who is still poking around. “Do you think there could be more?” “I check the whole jet out every month or so and those were the only three I’ve ever come across in this area,” he answers, but continues to look for more. “Why didn’t you remove them before?” Cling shrugs. “Then they just find more clever places to hide them. If they don’t know you know they’re there, they get complacent.” Clint finally decides there are no more recording devices – he doesn’t think the SHIELD drones who installed them are imaginative enough to slip any past him - and walks over to an empty piece of wall, sliding down until he’s sitting. Cap gives the room one more suspicious look and follows suit, sitting across the small space from Clint. Despite it being the most obviously comfortable place to sit, they don't have any interest in utilizing the bunk. Neither of them says anything for a while, but Clint can’t help glancing over at the other man. Rogers is still wearing his determined, ‘I am a leader’ face, but underneath, Clint can detect something else, something that looks like trepidation. Cap’s doing his best to hold it together, and Clint’s sure as hell going to do his best to as well, but having seen those tapes of prior victims has Clint on a razor's edge. He remembers watching in horror as the people on the video fucked each other until they had literally collapsed from exhaustion. Now, Clint eyes Rogers and wonders what that means for him, given that the other half of the equation has super-serum in his blood and the endurance and stamina many times that of a normal person. He has to stop himself from thinking about it when he starts to feel panic creeping in. After long minutes of tense silence, Cap clears his throat. “So, do you, uh, do you know how to do this?” He knows Rogers’s no blushing virgin – he made that clear to all of them early on when Stark had razzed him a little about it - but the man flat out said he doesn’t play for the other team and Clint can’t help feeling sick about what he knows is coming. “Yeah, Cap,” he answers resignedly, his eyes still closed. “I know how to do this.” “I mean, beyond theoretically.” Clint nods again. “I have some experience.” There’s a beat of silence and then, “Oh.” Clint hears a faint sound of surprise in Rogers’s voice. Clint feels anger bubble up inside him, and he opens his eyes to glare at Rogers. “You have a problem with that, Rogers?” Rogers pins him with a slightly affronted look. “No,” he answers, “I don’t. You just never gave any indication that you dated men.” “I’m pretty sure I never gave any indication I dated women either,” Clint counters with no small measure of heat. Rogers seems to think about that for a few seconds. “That’s true,” he acknowledges. “Look, I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it but I don’t mean anything by it. And quite honestly, I think there are more important things for us to be worrying about right now than whether I’m homophobic. Which I’m not, by the way. Honestly, I’m kind of relieved that at least one of us is going to know what the hell we’re doing here.” Clint snorts and turns away. The man has a point. “So… how… what do we need to do to make sure I don’t hurt you?” Clint snaps his head back and glares at Rogers. “What?” Rogers asks, clearly knowing that he said something wrong but not sure what it was. “You think you’re going to be the one who’s going to do all the fucking?” Clint asks, his voice tight and angry. “Well, since you’re…” Rogers starts but trails off when he sees the thunderous expression on Clint’s face. Clint’s face hardens. “You know that’s incredibly ignorant, right?” Rogers looks thrown. “Sorry…” he murmurs, but his confusion is still evident. Clint huffs out an annoyed breath. “Just because I’ve had sex with men before doesn’t mean I like taking it up the ass!” he snaps. Rogers blushes furiously and opens his mouth to say something and then seems to think better of it. He furrows his brow for a few moments then looks back at Clint. “Sorry… I just assumed…” “Well, don’t!” Clint barks. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but for the most part, when I have penetrative sex – Jesus Christ I can’t believe I just said that,” Clint mutters, mostly to himself. “- I’m not the… receiver. Fuck! Do you have any idea how awkward it is talking about this?” “I think I do,” Rogers answers hotly, and Clint forces himself to calm a little. Fighting with Rogers now isn’t going to make any of this easier, and Rogers is right – they’re both here dealing with this. After a tense minute, he continues. “So… you’ve never… received… before?” he asks cautiously, clearly trying to avoid another verbal landmine. Clint pins him with a hard look. “Yes. I have. But not for a very long time and when I did, I didn’t particularly like it.” “Oh,” Rogers says quietly. “None of this matters anyway,” Clint says angrily, “because from what I’ve seen, when this hits us, neither of us is going to care about anything except getting off as quickly and as often as we can.” Rogers looks decidedly uncomfortable and squirms a little where he’s sitting. But if there’s one thing you can say about Captain America, he’s resolute in the face of battle. He clears his throat and looks directly at Clint. “Okay. I still don’t know how to make this work for either of us and you have some experience, so how about you give me a tutorial before we apparently lose our ability to communicate effectively.” Clint stares at Rogers for a few seconds, appreciating that the man is willing to face any challenge head-on. Clint makes himself relax a little. “Okay, right… The Vaseline is for lube, to help…” Rogers rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Barton. I understand what lube is for,” he says and huffs out a laugh. “Okay!” Clint laughs too, despite himself. He spends the next five minutes explaining to Captain America how you prepare for anal sex, and, kudos to the man, he doesn’t flinch from it – just takes it in likes it’s a mission brief, which in a way, Clint’s supposes, it is. His eyes get fractionally wider once or twice, but for the most part, he holds steady. It’s quiet for a long time after Clint finishes as Rogers seems to process everything. A minute later Clint turns a speculative eye toward the other man. “So, I know you said you aren’t gay, Cap, but has anyone caught you up on Kinsey?” “Kinsey? No, I don’t think so. What’s that?” “Kinsey was a biologist working in the 1940s and 50s. He sort of looked at sexuality for the first time in any systematic way. Basically, he surveyed a whole bunch of people and found out that not everyone is quite so lily-white heterosexual as we all used to think. He had a scale, 0 to 6, with 0 being complete heterosexuality and six being complete homosexuality. Most people actually fall somewhere in between,” he says, hoping Rogers maybe falls somewhere toward the middle of the spectrum. Rogers thinks about that for a moment. “What number are you?” he asks perceptively. Clint tips his head back against the wall and watches Rogers out of the bottom of his eyes. “Probably when I was younger – growing up - I was a 4. Maybe even a 3. Since I’ve been… settled, I’d say I’m more like a 5.” Rogers quirks an eyebrow at him. “So, you’ve changed?” He sounds surprised. “Yeah. It’s not unusual. Since the 50s, they’ve figured out that there’s a lot more to sexuality than Kinsey recognized – or bothered to think about. That things are probably more… fluid, but that societal pressure kept the lid on that. Publicly anyway,” Clint shrugs. “People are a lot more open about sex than they used to be. Anyway, Kinsey’s scale was pretty rudimentary but it still gets to the point.” Clint peers in Rogers’s direction. “You want to tell me where you think you might fall?” Rogers looks down at his hands and hesitates for a long moment. When he looks back up, his expression is reluctant, and for the first time, maybe a little bit lost. “I… zero? Maybe… a 1?” he adds at Clint’s no-doubt defeated expression. “I don’t know. I mean I never thought about it before. When I grew up, you didn’t think about it. It wasn’t… acceptable.” “If it’s more acceptable now?” Clint prompts hopefully. “You never looked at a guy and thought, maybe…?” Rogers shakes his head slowly, though the gesture looks apologetic. “I really didn’t.” Clint just nods and looks away. Fucking great. Captain America is every bit the quintessential all-American heterosexual that his image would have you believe and Clint’s about to fuck him through the mattress. Wonderful. “I’m sorry, Cap,” Clint murmurs, still looking anywhere but at his teammate. “Hawkeye,” Cap snaps and Clint jerks his head back around. “Neither of us wants this, but it’s what we’ve got to deal with. It’s not your fault.” “Yeah, we can say that all we want,” Clint tells him and he can hear the frustrated anger creeping into his own voice. “But in the end, I’m still going to spend the next day or so fucking a man who’s not gay, so…” “Yes, and I’m apparently going to spend it fucking a man who doesn’t want to be fucked, so let’s just put the self-recriminations aside and get through this.” Clint turns away because the determination in Cap’s expression is just a little too close to those posters that Phil has up on his office wall and it’s making Clint’s stomach churn. “We’ll get through this, Barton,” Cap says, more gently this time. “It’s going to be okay.” Clint turns back and stares at Cap and has to admit to himself that he has a lot of respect for the man. Clint scrutinizes him closely for another moment and makes a decision. “How uncomfortable are you with this, Cap?” Rogers hesitates, then cocks his head and eyes Clint. “I’d say I’m about as uncomfortable as you are. If you don’t like to… receive.” “Would you be less uncomfortable with fellatio?” Rogers squints at him. “What do you mean?” “I mean oral sex, Cap. Blowjobs,” Clint says bluntly. “According to the data the KGB had, oral sex seemed to work to satisfy the… whatever… need. I think there’s something about there having to be some exchange of body fluids for the chemical binding to take place and stop any damage. But apparently it doesn’t have to be… genitally.” Clint cringes at his own words. “So, if it would be easier for you, I think I wouldn’t have to actually fuck you. You could… you could, you know, give me oral sex and I probably wouldn’t… die.” There, he said it. Clint wants to duck his head in mortification, but forces himself not to. Rogers looks down and seems to give that serious consideration. After a few moments, he lifts his head again. “I think… I think I might be more comfortable with that, yeah,” Rogers says, and Clint’s pretty sure he hears relief there. Clint braces himself before he goes on. “It’s… It won’t be…” Clint sighs and turns away for a moment, draws his strength and turns back. “On the video. The oral sex was… It wasn’t gentle. When this stuff kicks in, the need is… desperate.” Rogers stares at him for a long minute, silence hanging between them. “I was under water for 70 years,” Cap finally says. Clint looks at him quizzically. Rogers shrugs. “I’m just sayin’… I can hold my breath for a really long time.” Clint stares at him uncomprehending for a few seconds, then gets what Rogers is saying and barks out an almost-humorous laugh. “You know there’s more to it than that. People tend to gag a lot when something is shoved down their throat.” “I’ll figure it out,” he shrugs again. “People say I’m a quick study,” Rogers adds with a small grin. A clear image of his cock pushed deep down Captain America’s throat comes to him unbidden and Clint shudders. His cock twitches in his pants and he is suddenly reminded just how not funny this is. He grimaces and turns his head away quickly. “Fuck...” he mutters. Rogers is instantly alert. “What?” Clint wipes a hand down his face. “Nothing,” he waves his hand dismissively. Cap looks like he’s going to challenge that for a second, but instead says, “I could do the same. Since you don’t like to receive.” Clint shakes his head. He has no problems giving Phil a nice slow, easy blowjob – likes it, even, the feel of Phil thick and heavy in his mouth – but Phil knows not to buck his hips or cut off Clint’s airway and based on what he knows of this stuff, he’s pretty sure that Rogers wouldn’t be able to control that impulse. “’S okay, Cap. I’d probably prefer the other option.” Cap looks like he might probe that a little further but then realization flickers across his face. Clint knows that as team leader, Cap’s read his SHIELD file and he’s a smart enough guy that he probably just put two and two together. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem like he’s going to pursue it further, but just to be safe, he shifts gears to derail it altogether. “Listen, speaking of bodily fluids… Just so you know, my partner and I are monogamous and we both get tested four times a year.” “Tested?” “For STDs. Sexually Transmitted Diseases.” Cap looks surprised for a second and then furrows his brow in thought. “That seems very… cautious.” Clint shrugs. “SOP,” he says. He doesn’t elaborate with the, ‘for SHIELD’. The nature of their work exposes them to all manner of potential dangers (case in point, the current situation) so all regular SHIELD agents are tested quarterly. “Look, it’s been a couple of months since I was tested, but I have no reason to believe that I’m not clean.” Rogers is still staring at him with a thoughtful expression, and Clint lifts an expectant eyebrow at him. “Oh, uh… no. I think they tested me for everything they could think of when I… returned. But ever since the serum, I can’t really get sick and apparently I don’t carry or pass any pathogens either.” Clint nods and ducks his head down again. They sit in loaded silence for a few minutes. “So, you… you have a… boyfriend?” Rogers asks tentatively. Clint lifts his gaze back up. “Partner,” Clint corrects automatically, because ‘boyfriend’ has always sounded filled with a little too much teenaged angst for him. Though the way he’s feeling right now, boyfriend might be appropriate. Rogers nods his understanding. “How do you make that work?” Rogers asks him, sounding more genuinely curious than anything. “I mean, I haven’t really seen you go out. You always seem to be with us, or away on SHIELD missions-- Oh. Someone at SHIELD?” Clint closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall. “Got it in one,” he answers, then waits for him to figure the rest out. Phil asking to have a moment with Clint earlier made it pretty obvious, and as noted, Rogers is a smart guy. A few minutes later, Rogers does indeed put it together. “Coulson,” he says, sounding like he worked it out just as he said the name. “Give the man a prize,” Clint says, opening his eyes to watch Cap – wanting to know if it’s going to be a problem. Rogers has a quizzical expression on his face. “You don’t… I mean, I don’t think I ever would have guessed you were together if this situation hadn’t happened.” “That’s the way we mean it to be. We both have jobs to do and we don’t let the rest of it interfere with that. Sorry it happened this time.” “Is he… is he going to be upset…?” Rogers asks tentatively, apparently wondering if he’s going to be facing a jealous boyfriend upon their return. Clint huffs a bit of a laugh. “Not at you.” There’s a small pause. “At you?” he asks, and Clint opens his eyes at the concern he thinks he hears. Clint stares at the space between them. After a moment, he looks up and gives Cap a weak smile. “Nah. We’re good.” “He’s a good man,” Rogers says without hesitation. Clint bristles at that and turns away. He doesn’t need Captain America to tell him that. He knows exactly how good a man Phil is. He’s a good man who sets his bar for behavior at “Captain America”, who idolizes the man across from him. The man that Clint is about to… “Did I say something wrong?” Clint runs a hand down his face and looks back at Rogers. Ah, shit. He doesn’t know why he’s taking out his issues on Rogers. None of this is Cap’s fault. “No. No, I… No.” They return to their awkward silence. “How soon before…?" Clint pulls out his phone and looks at it. “Maybe an hour. Probably less.” He drops his phone onto the floor beside him. “Listen. For what it’s worth. I’ve seen what this stuff does, and I give you my consent now for whatever we do later.” “O-kay…” Rogers answers, looking mildly confused. Cling shrugs. “It’s a 21st century thing. Consent is sexy now,” he smiles weakly. “I’m not gonna really be in my right mind pretty soon. And I don’t want… I don’t want you to feel bad later. Like you did something you shouldn’t have. I know what’s coming and I want you to know that whatever we do to get through it, it’s okay.” Rogers takes that in and then nods his understanding. “Okay. Then I giv-” “No, Cap.” Clint shakes his head vigorously. “You have no idea what’s coming,” he says gruffly. Clint tries hard not to think about the things he’d seen on the tapes – how he had watched in growing horror as the people on the video had fucked themselves into exhaustion, complete depletion, damn near to death. “There’s no way you can give informed consent.” Rogers firms his mouth into a hard line. “You’ve told me what’s coming. If you can give consent then I can.” Clint lets it go because he can see that Cap has his stubborn on and he’s learned that there’s very little anyone can do to change the man’s mind once he’s made a decision. Besides, there are more pressing things he needs to talk to Cap about before things get too out of control. “There’s something else I need…” Clint stops and clears his throat. Fuck. He hates that he needs to say this; hates how he knows Cap is going to look at him. “What?” Clint makes a disgruntled noise and then turns a resolute gaze toward Cap. “I need you to not…” Clint stops; this is harder than he thought it would be. “You need me to not…?” Cap prompts after a moment, brow furrowed, clearly perplexed. Clint blows out a loud breath. “Okay, look, I know you’ve got super strength, and you’ve got about 20 pounds on me, I think…” “Yeah…?” “Just… if you can… just, please try not to hold me down or restrain me.” Rogers’s eyes widen and his face blanches. “Oh God…” Clint closes his eyes. “Don’t,” he grits out forcefully. “I’m not some fucking damsel! I just don’t particularly like that, so if you’re able to think clearly enough, just… try to avoid that.” Clint opens his eyes and pins Rogers with a hard stare. Cap swallows visibly and then nods, turning away from Clint. “Do you…” Clint clears his throat again. “Do you have any triggers I should know about?” “I don’t think so,” Rogers answers slowly, clearly giving it some consideration. “Just, you know…” “Right, oral sex only if possible.” “Yeah…” It sounds like relief and dread and fear and conviction, all wrapped up into one word. “Yeah,” Clint acknowledges, and lowers his head onto his knees. He’s fucking done with all this talking, now all they can do is wait. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- They haven’t spoken for the last half hour or so. Rogers is always like this before a mission, Clint has noticed – quiet, intense, determined. When they’re on the jet on their way to wherever, Cap is focused and thoughtful, running strategies and contingency plans in his head, and coming up with back-up plans for their contingency plans. Clint can practically see the man’s mind spinning, analyzing the situation, and can’t help wonder what the hell today’s contingency plans might look like. To his credit, Rogers isn’t freaking out, but when Clint gives it some thought, he realizes he’s not really surprised. The man is a soldier. He's survived war, being submerged for 70 years, the battle with the Chitauri, and who knows what else. He’s handling this like he handles everything – by putting on his game face and staring down the challenge ahead. He’s given Cap the best information he can to try to prepare the man for what’s to come – if it’s really even possibly to prepare for something like this. Now, for his part, Clint just doesn’t want to fucking talk about it anymore. He doesn’t need to analyze things or try to predict what’s going to happen. He knows what’s going to happen, and he knows it's going to happen sooner rather than later. He can feel it starting. He’s getting jittery from adrenaline and arousal but he’s trying not to let it show; that’s getting more difficult though, because he’s starting to sweat a little and he’s had to pull his knees up to hide his nascent erection. He’s not sure why he bothers since they both know where things are headed, but he can’t help but try to at least put things off for as long as possible. He’s so focused on his own internal monologue that he hasn’t been paying attention to Rogers for a while, so when the other man stands suddenly, Clint startles and looks up. “Cap…?” “Barton, I…” he says, eyes skittering nervously. Dread washes over Clint. Rogers’ skintight Captain America suit doesn’t leave much to the imagination. When the hell had he taken out his cup? Clint tries not to stare but he can see a little bit of dampness where Rogers is starting to leak pre-come and it looks like his cock is almost fully erect. It’s fucking huge and Clint swallows as the dread is instantly supplanted by a wave of arousal that hits him hard, his mouth watering so that he chokes a little, his focus riveted on Rogers’ groin. “Barton,” Cap says again. He looks miserable – he’s standing stiffly and clenching his fists by his sides. But there’s no question where his mind really is because his face is beading with sweat, his pupils are dilated, and his lips are shiny and wet where he seems to be unable to stop running his tongue over them. Oh God, Clint has never noticed how fucking hot Rogers’ mouth is – that plush bottom lip, soft and-- Fuck! Clint scrambles to stand up, pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes and shaking his head, trying to stop the freight train of his desire, which is very hard to do when your dick is throbbing in your pants. “Barton, I think it’s starting… I’m feeling very…” Rogers stops, the sound of his panting the only thing audible in the otherwise silent space. Clint feels his body tense even more but he drops his hands to his side and looks at Rogers, the singular inevitability of what’s going to happen crashing over him. And even though he knew this was coming, Clint is still taken by surprise to realize that more than anything in the world, he wants to have sex with Steve Rogers. Right this second. Everything else, all of his previous concerns and insecurities have washed away and it just feels necessary on a level so basic that any thought of trying to resist seems ludicrous now. Except that’s not quite true. Rattling around in his head – behind his overwhelming need – he still has his intellectual awareness of how false this is; that he wants Rogers but he knows that he doesn’t really want Rogers. The dual train of his thoughts feels disturbingly close to how it felt under Loki – when his desire to resist never, ever went away - just became a distant and hollow echo in the back of his mind as Loki’s thoughts and desires quickly overpowered his own. Clint’s body reacts viscerally; nausea envelopes him and he doubles over with his hands on his knees, retching, but somehow managing to hold back from losing the contents of his stomach. “Hawkeye!” Rogers says with urgent concern. “Barton, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” His role as leader and caretaker apparently superseding his desire and battling to the fore. He steps up close and puts a tentative hand on Clint’s shoulder. The contact sends a jolt through Clint and he cranes his head up to look at Rogers again. He looks conflicted – like he wants to help Clint, but like he wants to tear his clothes off of him at the same time. Which, yeah, he probably does. Clint’s sick about what’s happening, he wants off this fucking quinjet and to be anywhere but here. But at this moment, he also wants Steve Rogers’ dick in his ass. He wants that more than he wanted his mother not to have died; more than he wanted the Swordsman to leave him the fuck alone; more than he wanted Barney not to have betrayed him; more than he wanted Loki out of his head. More than he had wanted Phil for the three years before he finally had him, and more than he’s wanted Phil every time he’s had him since then. He knows it’s an illusion – that his desire for Rogers is manufactured – but that doesn’t make the desire feel any less real. “Yeah,” Clint nods and stands up straight, where, having rushed to Clint’s side in his distress, Rogers is now suddenly very much in his personal space. Rogers licks his lips again and Clint’s eyes flick there and then back to where Rogers is watching him very closely. “Yeah, I’m good,” he answers, giving a jerky nod. And that’s all the acknowledgement Rogers apparently needs because almost before he can register it, he has pushed Clint against the wall, pressing their bodies together. He groans at the full body contact and tucks his face into Clint’s neck, gasping as he gives an experimental push of his groin against Clint’s hip. Clint adjust his stance so their legs are scissored and he can rub his own hard length against Rogers’ thigh. He whimpers as Cap obliges by pressing into him further and starting a small rut, his hips flexing minutely. Clint wants to be embarrassed by the keening sounds he’s making but he finds he’s not at all, and instead of shying away from this, he reaches around and grabs Rogers’ ass, and pulls him in close and tight. Rogers grunts and Clint pulls him closer still and then feels Cap’s breath hitch, hot and wet against his neck. Clint shivers and bucks his own hips a little and it’s like Cap’s floodgates have opened because he shifts his whole body more fully toward Clint and starts rutting hard and purposeful – their height difference working Rogers’ cock against Clint’s stomach. Clint’s breath is coming fast and his desire is ramping up quickly. “Jesus,” Clint gasps, feeling Rogers’ erection pressing into him, rigid and fiery, even with their clothes between them. “Cap… Rogers… wait…” Rogers freezes for a brief second and then violently pushes back away from Clint. “I’m sorry,” he blurts, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “I’m sorry, Clint, but…” He opens his eyes then and Clint can see the confusion and fear and desire. “Oh God, I need…” Clint isn’t sure that Rogers is even aware that his right hand is stroking his fucking huge cock through the strained and stretched fabric of his uniform. “No, I know,” Clint rushes, his voice shaking and raw. “Me, too. Me, too. Just… God, take your fucking clothes off!” he says, already tearing at his own as fast as he can. Rogers doesn’t reply, just follows suit, tearing at his Captain America costume until he’s completely nude. Clint’s eyes go wide when he finally sees the full extent of what’s been hidden beneath the uniform. His erect cock looks even more enormous and intimidating when not confined by fabric meant to hold things tight and secure. Clint guesses that Rogers’ dick must have benefitted from the super-serum like the rest of him did because Clint’s pretty sure he’s never seen a cock that big outside of some size-kink porn he’d inadvertently stumbled across once or twice in his life. “Shit. Shitshitshit,” Clint bites out frantically, wanting to get his hands on Rogers as fast as he can but stupidly trying to get his pants off before removing his boots. He finally has to sit down on the floor to extract himself and when he finally rips them free, he looks up to see Rogers’ erection bobbing in front of his face. Clint licks his lips and thinks about opening his mouth and just… tasting… a little bit, but before he can, Rogers gets a slightly feral look in his eyes and he grabs Clint by the shoulders and yanks him up, backing him firmly into the wall. Rogers pushes forward, again pressing his full body against Clint’s and they both groan as Rogers begins to grind his hips in a small circular motion. Clint puts his hands back on Rogers’ ass, getting as much leverage as he can to rub against. Rogers’ hands are bracketing Clint’s head and his face is buried in Clint’s neck, and he sounds embarrassed when he mumbles, “Clint…” with deep desperation in his voice. “Clint, please… can we? … Now? Please…” he beseeches, pushing harder into Clint. The friction sends shockwaves of pleasure and pure lust through Clint’s entire body, and suddenly he can’t remember at all why he was ever hesitant because the idea of having Rogers shove his cock into Clint’s ass sounds like about the best thing ever. “Yeah… yeah, do it,” he grits out, barely able to form the words through his own haze of greedy desire. Rogers pulls back in surprise and Clint can see that his pupils are blown so wide that he doesn’t think he can even see a hint of blue. “Are you sure?” he pants, hips still moving, fucking only air in the small space he created between them, but apparently unable to stop. Clint hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t been expecting to be coherent – for Rogers to be able to ask him for his consent. To be able to give it himself. But while he’s dying to get to the part where Rogers is fucking him, he realizes that they’re also both still in there, still aware of their surroundings, still have some small measure of control. He’s not actually sure if that’s better or worse. It doesn’t much matter though, because even if there is some rational part of his brain still functioning, he definitely still wants to fucking impale himself on Rogers’ huge dick right this second. “It’s okay… I need it. No, I want it! Just… just do it!” That’s apparently enough reassurance for Rogers and he doesn’t hesitate again, turning and practically dragging Clint over to the bed like a caveman returning from the hunt. He pulls Clint, stumbling and tripping across the small space and tosses him down like he’s a rag doll, then crawls up between his legs. “How…?” he asks quickly. “I… I don’t want to hurt you,” he adds, looking slightly guilty as he glances down to where his hand is gripping his erection. Clint pushes himself onto his elbows and grabs the jar of Vaseline, scooping a generous glop onto his fingers. He gently pushes Rogers back a little, then rolls his eyes at the man’s sudden panicked and possessive expression. “Just… this will go a lot faster if I do it myself,” he explains in a rush, quickly settling on his knees facing Rogers and not hesitating before he jams two fingers into his ass. “Oh,” Rogers nods in apparent relief. His face is flushed and his cock is leaking buckets, and Clint sees him start to stroke himself. “Please hurry,” Rogers pleads, more a strangled whisper than anything. His fist is moving faster up and down his cock and his eyes drift shut as his body seems to shiver in anticipation. It’s awkward as hell trying to open himself up. Clint’s never actually done this to himself – hell, nobody’d ever bothered to do this for him – but he’s done it to Phil countless times, so he’s well familiar with the mechanics of it. It’s slow going though because the angle is so awkward and uncomfortable when you do it to yourself. Still, it’s probably better than asking Rogers to do it since the man had turned a brilliant shade of red and practically choked when Clint had gone through the ‘how-to’ with him earlier. He flicks a glance at Rogers, who’s watching him eagerly and Clint hates the fact that he’s gagging for it – wants Rogers’ cock so bad he can taste it. Oh god… taste it… yes… yes, he wants to taste it… Clint rips his fingers out of his ass and pushes forward until his mouth is on Rogers’ cock. Rogers startles and yells in surprise, and glancing up, Clint sees his eyes fly open but then quickly close again as he releases a deep moan. Rogers’ cock is so big – much bigger than Coulson’s and definitely much, much bigger than average – so Clint can only take in maybe a quarter of him, his lips stretched obscenely to get even that. But the second Clint gets his mouth around the head of Rogers’ cock and tastes the bitter drops waiting there, everything in his body relaxes. It must be the necessary binding of their brain chemicals because he feels Rogers relax in the same instant. Relief sweeps over him, but so does a dizzying new wave of desire and Clint’s moans echo Rogers’ as his tongue slides over the excruciatingly perfect sensation in his mouth. Clint loses himself to everything else for a few moments – the feel of the pull of suction and then drag of his lips tight against smooth skin, pushing out all other thoughts from his head. Above him Rogers is breathing harsh and heavy and then he whimpers and the man’s hips jolt a little, his cock bumping up against the back of Clint’s throat. Clint’s airflow suddenly feels constricted and there’s a roar in Clint’s head as his vision narrows to a pinpoint. He panics and jerks his head back, then sits up, coughing and gagging. “Sorry… Clint, I’m sorry,” Rogers mumbles quickly, then looks at Clint with desperation. “I didn’t mean… but, I… I need… Clint. I need…” “Yeah… yeah, okay…” Clint starts and Rogers moves quickly with clear intent to reposition them. “No, listen!” Clint barks, and – thank god – Rogers freezes, aborting his move to pin Clint down. “You’re… you’re really big, Cap,” Clint starts and Rogers looks down at where his hand is back to pumping his cock. He looks sheepish and a little apologetic again. “You gotta let me… Jesus, fuck!” he swears and shoves his hand down so he can piston his own cock ruthlessly. He’s not sure if the sob that escapes is because it feels so good or because he knows it’s not enough - the pleasure hollow and somehow incomplete. Clint drops his head and squeezes his eyes shut, groaning as he tries desperately to get himself off, but somehow he knows that his hand is never going to be enough. “Please, Clint…” Cap says again, obviously trying to be patient but with enough raw desperation that it draws Clint’s attention back. “Okay… yeah,” Clint nods his head. “Yeah… just… let me…” he says as he reaches around and shoves his fingers back into his ass. Rogers somehow manages to control himself but he’s watching Clint like he’s going to explode, and who knows, maybe he is; Clint has no idea just how long they have before this stuff could start to melt their brains. But Clint does know that if they don’t do this the right way from the start, he’s going to be in serious trouble by the time it’s over. “Listen,” he pants, stretching himself as quickly as he can, adding an uncomfortable fourth finger. “You gotta let me drive.” “What?” Rogers’ voice cracks and he furrows his brow in question as his hand works his cock at lightning speed. Clint takes a deep breath and blows it out. “You’re really big, Cap,” he repeats, twisting his wrist and opening his fingers as much as he can, feeling the deep burn of muscles forced open too quickly. “So, lie on your back and let me control things, okay? At least until I adjust.” A look of pure guilt passes over Rogers’ face but is followed by quick understanding and he immediately throws himself onto his back. His monstrous cock bobs up and down on his stomach, an immediate pool of pre-come forming on his abs. A thin line of viscous fluid stretches between them and the glistening, red head of Rogers’ cock. He reaches up and grabs the edge of the bunk above his head, clearly trying to defer to Clint’s control and to show Clint that he can do as he’s told. But Clint has no interest – ever - in domination or power play, even in this situation. “Put your hands down,” Clint snaps, even in his state recognizing the irony of ordering Cap not to be submissive but he dismisses it quickly. Rogers obeys, a slightly confused expression flickering across his face before it’s quickly replaced with a look of hungry anticipation. Clint eyes Rogers’ dick and swallows hard. It’s still terrifyingly huge, but Clint’s mind traitorously supplies that it’s beautiful, as well. It’s cut and proud, arching slightly inward toward his belly. There are two thick veins visible, running crookedly down the length of it, and Clint can’t stop himself from reaching out and lightly tracing one of them with his index finger. Rogers sucks in a hissing breath at the touch, his hips juddering automatically. Clint continues to eyeball it as he twists his hand around a couple more times, praying that he’s prepped enough because he’s pretty sure neither of them can wait any longer. He grabs the jar of Vaseline, scoops out another glop and glides it over Rogers’ dick. He keens and stares at Clint through hooded eyelids, breathing faster by the second. Clint pumps his fist up and down a couple times to spread the lubricant liberally and he can tell Rogers is trying not to move, but the man’s hips seem to thrust of their own volition. Clint squeezes the base of Rogers’ cock in warning and Rogers’ eyes shoot open questioningly. “Okay… Let me drive, yeah?” Clint repeats firmly and Rogers looks chastised, but nods vigorously. Clint works his knees up Rogers’ body until he’s straddling him, then readjusts his grip on Rogers’ cock and guides it toward his hole. Rogers squeezes his eyes shut and makes a wordless noise of impatience, then grasps Clint’s hips, thrusting his own a little so that the head of his cock bumps up against Clint’s rim. “Cap,” Clint says sharply, and Rogers’s eyes snap to Clint’s. “You gotta let me go slow and adjust, or you’re gonna hurt me. Please,” he adds, and he can hear his own desperate plea, because as much as he needs Rogers to be fucking him as soon as possible, he has enough of a clear head to envision how he comes out of this if they don’t take this slowly and carefully. “Sorry… Sorry…” Rogers murmurs and stills himself, squeezing his eyes shut tightly again and taking a deep, controlling breath. He drops his hands to the bed and grips the sheet tightly. Clint doesn’t waste any more time, settling back and easing downward until the head of Rogers’ cock pops through the ring of muscles. Rogers whines and squirms, but then stills himself, before his hands start reaching up again, flailing for a second uncertainly, then closing on Clint’s hips like a vice. He’s clearly losing his ability to control himself, but give the man credit, he doesn’t push up into Clint the way Clint is absolutely positive he wants to. “Good… good…” Clint grits out as he, oh-so-slowly, lowers himself down, inch by inch. It hurts; Clint hasn’t had anything in his ass like this for 20 years or more, and he definitely rushed the prep, but even though this isn’t something Clint ever does or wants to do, somehow it feels deliriously good in a way he never thought possible given his earlier experiences. He knows he’s still tight and his body puts up token resistance, squeezing hard around Rogers’ dick. It takes long minutes of Clint easing incrementally down then back up a little then slightly farther down, over and over, until he is fully seated, Rogers’ equally enormous (and full) balls resting noticeably against his ass. By the time he gets there, Cap is shaking with anticipation, sweat pouring off of him as he uses every bit of his self-control not to rush things and hurt Clint. Clint appreciates the hell out of that. “Okay, Cap… almost there…” Clint breathes out, putting his hands on Rogers’ shoulders. Rogers watches him intently as Clint shifts onto his knees a little more, leaning forward and beginning a steady rhythm, never pulling off too far. Rogers’ neck is corded with tension, clearly holding back with everything he has as Clint works to loosen himself up enough that whatever comes next won’t shred his insides. Clint rocks above him for a few minutes, slowly adjusting to the sheer girth of the mass inside him. They’re both glistening with sweat and he has to dig his fingers in to keep purchase on Rogers, but a moment later, the man slides his arms inside of Clint’s, knocking them off his shoulders so Clint falls forward, flailing a little as he lands on Rogers’ chest. Rogers wraps one muscular arm around Clint’s back, holding their chests tightly together, then snakes his other hand down Clint’s body and grasps his ass, gripping him steady as he bends his knees and suddenly pushes up hard. Clint’s body jerks automatically and he gasps at the pleasure/pain of it. “Fuuuuuuuccckkk!” he yells as Rogers begins a punishing pace, and Clint throws his hands forward to brace against the wall, locking his elbows to stop them from sliding up and hitting their heads. “I’m sorry, Clint,” Rogers gasps in his ear, “I’m sorry… I have to…” Clint just grunts in response, too preoccupied with how he can feel each slide of Rogers’ cock and how every time he pulls out it feels like he’s taking Clint’s insides with him. He knows his body should be protesting and registering more pain, but he’s grateful that for whatever reason, it doesn’t. Clint has a fuzzy recollection of something about Empulcoitus and massive doses of pain-killing endorphins. Rogers seems to fuck him forever, and Clint has the fleeting thought that maybe it’s the super-serum. It gave him greater stamina and endurance in everything else, why not sex? Clint’s own cock is neglected, but he’s getting enough friction between the grind of their bodies that he’s still hard and it feels pretty fucking good without reaching a point of desperation – yet. He’d beg for ‘more’ and ‘deeper’ and ‘faster’ except that he knows Rogers feels the same way and is pushing himself as hard as he can already. Clint is lost in a haze of pleasure when Rogers grips him even tighter with both arms, stilling for a second, and then moaning as he jerks and convulses and quite obviously comes in Clint’s ass. Clint feels what seems like every muscle in Rogers’ body tighten and contract over and over, and Clint would swear he shoots more than a dozen times. It’s definitely not normal and Clint doesn’t know if that’s a super-serum thing or a Empulcoitus thing. As soon as Rogers apparently stops coming, he starts bucking up into Clint again and the slapping takes on a distinctly wet and sloppy sound as the come is being pushed in and out of Clint’s body with the motion, sliding down around his balls and dampening Rogers’ pubic hair. Clint gives Rogers as long as he possibly can to work his way down because clearly the man is experiencing a remarkably intense climax, but soon he can’t stand it any longer and he breaks Cap’s hold, pushing himself up with his hands on Rogers’ shoulders again. His ass stings and feels slightly abused already and this is just the very beginning of what is going to be a very long day, but those thoughts are quickly replaced by the more desperate thoughts of how he’s going to get off. “Cap… I need… please… my turn… please,” Clint begs, both of them apparently having lost the ability to form complete sentences. He hates the desperation he hears in his voice but he’s not able to do a damn thing to get rid of it. Rogers freezes below him and looks up with a conflicted and uncomfortable expression. “Cap,” Clint says, adding some flint into his voice, because seriously? If the man thinks this whole ordeal is going to be one-sided he’s got another thing coming. But before he can call Rogers on anything, he flips them over, yanking himself out of Clint, causing Clint to gasp and his hole to flutter at the sudden loss. He feels a gush of warm come slide out, dampening the sheets below him. If he weren’t so fucking desperate, he might even laugh when he wonders just how big the wet spot is going to be when this nightmare finally ends. Rogers is kneeling between Clint’s legs and he reaches over to grab the jar of Vaseline from where Clint had haphazardly tossed it earlier. Rogers’ other hand goes back to fisting his cock, already hard again – or maybe it never stopped being hard, Clint isn’t sure. “Are you sure you don’t want to…?” Rogers asks, holding up the Vaseline and jerking his head to indicate behind himself. “It’s okay. You can… you can fuck me if you want.” Rogers is panting – though not as hard as Clint, because he’s coming down and Clint is still working his way up - and he’s glassy-eyed, pupils still shot almost completely black. Clint sees that Rogers’ expression is open and seemingly sincere, and yes, shoving his cock in Rogers’ ass and fucking him and fucking him and fucking him sounds like a really fucking good plan at the moment. And it’s pretty obvious that Rogers would let Clint do it, too, the way he’s hazy with his come-down but still aroused as hell. But Clint can’t forget the lost look he’d seen in Rogers’ eyes when he’d told Clint he was a fucking Kinsey zero and that, yes, he’d rather have Clint fuck his face than his ass. Maybe he hadn’t said exactly that, but the sentiment was definitely there. Clint has just enough presence of mind to shake his head jerkily. “Mouth is good. Just gimme your mouth, Cap. Please…” Clint thinks he sees relief flash across Rogers’ face but it’s there and gone so fast that he’s not sure. Rogers blinks a couple of times and then grins. “I can hold my breath for a really long time,” he reminds Clint. “Yeah, you said that before.” Clint’s wanking himself furiously, the burning feeling inside him getting more urgent by the second. “How about you just fucking get to it already!” he barks impatiently. Rogers jerks at Clint’s demand and quickly situates himself, crouching between Clint’s legs and gripping the base of Clint’s cock in one hand. He hesitates for only the briefest second and then plunges his mouth downward. An instant later, Clint is frantically scrabbling at Rogers’ head and shoulders, pushing Rogers off of his dick. “JESUSFUCK!! NO TEETH! STOPSTOPSTOP!!!” Rogers jerks his head up in surprise and, God damn it, why the hell hadn’t he gone over the finer points of giving head when he’d been schooling Captain America on how to appropriately prep for anal sex? Stupid! “Wha…?” Rogers asks, only half-coherently. Shuddering at the sight of Rogers’ pink cheeks and glistening lips, Clint’s cock jumps in Rogers’ grip and Rogers looks back down at it and then up at Clint again in confusion. Clint squeezes his eyes shut tightly and tries to take a deep, calming breath, then opens his eyes again. “You gotta… you can’t use your teeth, man! You gotta sorta wrap your lips around them, like this…” Clint demonstrates with his own mouth. “See?” “Okay… okay. Yeah… sorry,” Rogers mumbles, then bends his head and starts again. It’s clumsy at first, far from the best blow job Clint’s ever received, but he’s so wound up and close to the edge that Clint doesn’t think it will take long regardless. He can feel his orgasm starting to build, coiling low and hot and getting ready to spring, when Rogers suddenly pulls off of him. Clint lets out a horrifyingly loud whimper of protest, and lifts his head to look down just as Rogers ducks his head and actually sucks Clint’s balls into his mouth. Clint slams his head back down and moans shamelessly, spreading his legs wider to give Rogers all the room he needs. Rogers swirls his tongue around and around Clint’s balls, an erotic sensation that sends delicate tendrils of pleasure through his entire groin. But it’s too delicate, and after a few moments, despite how fan-fucking-tastic it feels, Clint starts to feel his desperation ramping up again. He needs to come, but his balls in Rogers’ mouth is not going to get him there. He grapples at the other man’s head. “Cap… Cap, it’s not enough…” he pleads, and looks down when Rogers finally pulls off his scrotum. Rogers sits up and wipes his forearm across his mouth. “Sorry… I’ve just… I’ve always wanted someone to do that to me, and I thought…” Rogers tells him with a bashful expression on his face, and it suddenly hits Clint that he’s just a kid! An inexperienced kid, who says he’s had sex before but very possibly has never done much outside of your standard heterosexual, missionary sex. And any second now Clint is going to lose control and fuck his face. He grips the sheet to try to keep himself from grabbing Rogers head and doing just that, knowing he’d regret it later. Clint blinks owlishly at him, the right words to say lost on him because his mind is too consumed with thoughts of growing need, when, without another word, Rogers drops his head down and wraps his lips around Clint’s cock again. That startles a yell out of Clint and his back arches involuntarily and then drops down and his hips buck upward. Clint’s cock is nowhere near as monstrous as Rogers’, but much like Clint’s fingers, it’s narrow and long - longer than average – and the head of Clint’s cock hits the back of Rogers’ throat before he gets half of it inside. Clint whines and thrusts his hips a little, wanting desperately to plunge himself deep deep deep into the hot constriction of Rogers’ throat, but somehow he uses his last reserves of self-control not to. Clint can feel Rogers trying different things and when he opens his eyes and looks, Clint can see him watching his reactions. Rogers’ tongue fortuitously glances across the frenulum and Clint’s breath hitches loudly. Rogers pauses and looks up at Clint, then slides his tongue roughly over it again and Clint chokes out a groan. Rogers is definitely a fast learner and that’s all it takes before he goes to town on the spot. He tries different things with the hand holding Clint’s dick and then eventually starts a twisting pump motion that has Clint spiraling dizzyingly fast toward orgasm. When Rogers’ other hand snakes down low and gently rolls his balls, Clint is caught completely off guard and a blinding orgasm slams out of him. He doesn’t even have time to warn Rogers before the first shot of his come hits the man in the back of his throat and he pulls off sharply, dropping Clint’s cock, coughing and choking. Clint immediately grabs his own cock to finish pistoning himself through his orgasm. He lifts his head and watches as thick, white ribbons of come shoot from the head of his cock with more force than he’s ever seen. The first line stripes Rogers’ cheek and he jerks his head up and away in surprise. The next pulses still hit him though – two in his hair (with one catching his ear as well), one more across his cheek, one on his neck and two on his chest. The last few slightly weaker shots land on Clint’s thigh and then he finishes with one final pulse over his fist. The intensity of his orgasm is like nothing Clint’s ever experienced before – which probably answers that question about whether it was the super-serum or the Empulcoitus that had caused Rogers’ orgasm to go on for so long. “Sorry,” Clint mumbles, panting like he just ran a 400 meter race full throttle and swiping his fingers across the come on Rogers’ face. He’s trying to be helpful, but realizes too late that he’s really just smearing it around more. “It’s fine,” Rogers bats his hand away, quickly wiping his face and ear himself, but ignoring the rest of the fluids sliding down his body. A second later, he’s leaning forward, looming over Clint with obvious intent. “Can I…?” he asks, half bashful, half desperate, his cock already nudging at Clint’s hole. “Yeah,” Clint pants. “Yeah, go ahe--” Before Clint can even get the word out, Rogers is pushing in fast and bottoming out in one long stroke. “Ah, Fuck!” Clint’s back arches because he was maybe not quite ready for that. Rogers starts a frantic pace, fucking Clint relentless and hard and Clint revisits the fleeting thought that a full day of this is going to have some after-effects, but that quickly dissolves in the intensity of his pleasure – the endorphins still doing their job. “Clint,” Cap begs into the crease of Clint’s neck. “Clint…” But Clint has no idea what Rogers's trying to say. “Yeah… okay, yeah,” Clint gasps, trying to reassure him but not sure why. “Clint…” Rogers whimpers again and he sounds so needy, but Clint doesn’t have any idea what else he can do to give the man some relief. He’s already slamming his own hips in counterpoint to Rogers'. “What…?” Clint asks, the word almost lost in the punch of his breaths caused by Rogers’ insistent pace. “Cap… what?” Rogers’ hips don’t stop but he lifts his head from where it’s been tucked in Clint’s neck and stares at him desperately for a second with clear intent. Oh… Clint hadn’t expected that – the intimacy of it and worries that Rogers might not be comfortable had held Clint back from initiating any kissing himself. Clint doesn’t have any more time to consider it though because an instant later, Rogers crashes his mouth down over Clint’s and plunges his tongue past Clint’s lips. The world lights up behind Clint’s eyelids and every sensation seems to spark, as though a circuit has been completed or something. Intense heat coats his brain, rounding out the sharp edges of desperation into a sense of pure and perfect connection, and Rogers must feel it too because they both groan wantonly at the same time. The Empulcoitus and the exchange of bodily fluids, Clint thinks distantly. He hasn’t kissed anyone but Phil in years, but he can’t deny that it feels completely fucking awesome to have Rogers’ tongue sliding over his own. His kissing is less gentle than Phil’s - dirtier - and Clint moans obscenely because everything feels so fucking good. He wraps both arms around Rogers’ head to hold him there – fingers grasping his short hair, gripping tight – so he won’t even think about taking his tongue away. Rogers fucks him hard and their mouths mash together - it’s uncoordinated and awkward and pretty soon it barely resembles a kiss as their frantic pace causes it to degenerate into mostly panting and the messy slide of lips and tongues and teeth. Clint can hardly get a breath with how every ferocious thrust from Rogers forces the air from his lungs and Rogers is grunting into Clint’s mouth every time he bottoms out. Clint wraps his legs around Rogers’ back and moves his grip to his ass, pulling him harderdeeperfaster as his body flexes upward to meet the insistent snap of Rogers’ hips every time. The brackets that hold the bunk to the wall have enough give in them that it’s shaking a little, and Clint’s pretty sure that if it weren’t attached, they would be skidding across the floor from the force of Rogers’ fucking. “Clint…” he moans into Clint’s mouth just as he tenses and Clint can feel another orgasm rip out of him. “Clint… oh god…” he chokes out, dropping his face into the side of Clint’s neck. Rogers’ body convulses as he starts to empty himself inside Clint again. Like the first time, it seems to last forever, his body jerking rhythmically with every pulse. As his movements begin to slow and smooth out, Clint doesn’t know what possesses him, but he turns his head and mashes his tongue into Rogers’ ear, plundering and sucking with everything he has. Either it’s one of Rogers’ erogenous zones or the Empulcoitus has that part of his body over-sensitized, too, because Rogers cries out and his body jerks violently, his hips starting another vigorous assault on Clint’s body. Clint keeps at it until Rogers’ thrusts become erratic and he almost stills. They’re both struggling for breath, chests heaving, but Rogers thankfully has the presence of mind not to drop his weight completely onto Clint, instead balancing over him in a plank position. Yeah, super strength and endurance. He doesn’t pull out of Clint, just hums a little into his neck, rocking slightly, then kissing him lightly under his ear. Clint can feel the slick evidence of his own need intensifying the friction between them and he would almost call it pleasurable, except that he already feels so taut with impatience that it doesn’t quite get there. “Clint…” Rogers murmurs, still rocking in place as he slowly skims soft, wet kisses across Clint’s neck and back to his mouth. Clint opens for him immediately and they fall into a gentle tangling of tongues that makes Clint sigh contentedly. It’s strangely intimate given the fact that, really, they hardly know each other, and it seems completely disconnected from the frantic pace of how Rogers was hammering into him just a minute before. He’s just had the thought that it’s kind of nice, when Phil’s face appears in his mind’s eye, making him freeze, then push roughly at Rogers, who quickly sits up on his heels between Clint’s legs. The moment is there and gone instantly though, because Clint's dick is more than happy to remind him that they’re nowhere near done, rock hard and straining upward, as though reaching for the other man. Hell, maybe it is. Rogers seems equally willing to ignore whatever just happened. “What do you want?” he asks, pumping his own still-hard cock. Clint blinks and can’t help stare at Rogers’ face. It’s red, flushed from sex and scraped from beard-burn. His eyes look completely black. But his mouth… his mouth is puffy and pink and glistening wet and about the most delicious thing that Clint has ever seen. A clear picture flashes in his mind. “I wanna fuck your mouth,” he answers honestly, his dick twitching and then bobbing on his stomach. He smears his fingers through the pre-come pooled on his abs and slides them into his mouth, tasting his own bitter tang. Rogers’ eyes widen and, impossibly, they seem to grow even darker as he flicks his glance between Clint’s face and his weeping cock. “How do we do that?” Rogers rasps greedily, with no hint of hesitation. Somehow, through their fog of desperation, Clint maneuvers Rogers off the bunk and onto his knees near the wall. Clint stands in front of him grasping Rogers’ head with one hand and leaning on the wall with the other. Rogers stares at Clint’s cock and licks his lips repeatedly, a dazed expression on his face. “No teeth,” he reminds Rogers quickly, grasping hard onto his hair for a second for emphasis. Rogers darts his eyes up toward Clint’s and nods a little, before reaching up to grip Clint’s cock in one hand, the other still pumping his own. Clint pushes his hips forward a bit and Rogers opens his mouth wide. He’s not at all expecting it when Rogers pushes forward, immediately taking nearly all of Clint's cock in, on the first slide. Clint swears and his hips buck reflexively but Rogers barely seems to notice, much less mind, pulling back for a brief second and then pushing forward again. Rogers was right, he’s a damn quick study and it’s maybe 15-30 seconds before he’s figured out how to relax his throat and easily take all of Clint without gagging. Clint waits as long as he can – until Rogers seems to really have the hang of it and each pass has his throat yielding willingly – and then gives in to his urges. He shifts and grabs Rogers’ head with both hands, somehow finding enough purchase in the short hair, and then takes control and drives his cock deep into the other man’s throat. He holds it there for a few seconds, savoring the exquisiteness of the sensation, and if Clint had any lingering concerns that this wouldn’t be enough, he stops worrying immediately. He groans obscenely as he pulls back slowly one time, and then unleashes full-force, slamming voraciously into Rogers’ face. His pace matches what Rogers just gave him, savage and unrelenting and he wants to feel bad about what he’s doing, but he can’t. He can’t, because while Rogers is squirming in front of him, throwing his hands out to retain his balance in the face of Clint’s demanding greed, it feels so fucking incandescently good that nothing else matters. Clint quells the last of his guilt by reminding himself that it’s an established fact that the man can apparently survive without air for a very long time. Clint loses himself to the sensation for a few moments, eyes closed, all of his focus on the feel of Rogers’ throat, tight around the head of his dick, Rogers’ tongue, slightly rough on the underside, and his lips, adding the drag of friction near the base. Clint’s balls slap against Rogers’ chin and it’s all exquisite and he feels another orgasm building steadily, but when he opens his eyes and looks down, Rogers’ face is alarmingly red and Clint panics, jerking and losing his rhythm. But then Rogers flicks his gaze up to Clint and his expression doesn’t seem to be one of concern, rather, it looks like pure lust to Clint. He takes it as ascent to keep going and renews his earlier pace, slamming his hips forward faster and harder, the seemingly insatiable thirst digging at his insides. Rogers makes small choked noises as Clint pounds into his mouth, his shoulders and neck straining, hands grappling for purchase before finally finding it on the back of Clint’s thighs. Clint almost stops because he thinks for a second that Rogers is trying to signal him. Instead, the man actually grips him painfully and yanks him harder and fasters into his own face. Jesusfuck, Rogers really is super human, is the last coherent thought Clint has before he yells and his orgasm tears through him. Reflexively, he bends over and wraps his arms around Rogers’ head, holding him still with his cock pushed as deep as it can go as he shoots down the man’s throat. His hole clenches in time with the contractions, and he actually feels a yearning for Rogers’ dick to fill him up again. He pulls out before he’s done coming and the last few, weaker pulses splatter onto Rogers’ right pec, sliding over his nipple. Clint’s still with it enough to be amazed all over again at the sheer volume of come that they seem to be producing. They’re breathing hard again and Rogers is slumped back on his heels, chest heaving, eyes closed, cheeks still crimson but the rest of his face fading to rosy. There’s come slipping out of the corner of his mouth and his lips are swollen red and abused looking, and Clint can’t resist the urge to push forward again, nudging at Rogers’ mouth with his half-hard cock. Rogers opens his eyes and looks up at the same moment that he opens his lips again, gently mouthing at Clint’s flagging erection. Clint hisses as Rogers gives a gentle suck on the head and he feels a belated spurt of come dribble out onto Rogers’ tongue. Clint’s is still gasping to catch his breath when he takes a half-step back, letting his cock slip from Rogers’ mouth. The moment Clint pulls away, Rogers gets a predatory look and is instantly up and starting to manhandling him with obvious intent. They’re both slick with the sweat that’s been pouring out of them and Rogers’ hands slip as he grapples with Clint, trying to maneuver him into whatever position he’s looking for. Eventually he wraps his arms around Clint’s chest and just picks him up, walking them over to the bunk again and pushing Clint face down over the edge of it. “Jesus… yes, come on… do it again,” Clint urges, his hole still slick and eager for Rogers’ dick. Rogers doesn’t hesitate for another second, pushing hard and fast into him in one long stroke, taking Clint’s breath away. Clint flails a little and scrambles to get his feet under him because Rogers has set another brutal pace and every thrust is banging Clint’s hipbones hard into the bunk’s side-rail. Clint eventually manages to get some leverage and then just tries to hold on and wait out Rogers’ next orgasm so he can get back to the business of chasing his own. The day goes on and on. At one point, an urgent craving comes over Clint and he impulsively shoves Rogers over onto his back, pushes his hands under his hips, lifts, then spreads Rogers’ cheeks apart wide so he can shove his face in deep. He goes to town with his tongue, mashing it wide and flat against Rogers’ hole, laving at it relentlessly. The new contact sends different sparks of pleasure fissuring through his brain and it must do something for Rogers too because the man virtually melts into the mattress, arms flopping out to the sides. Clint hears a low moan erupt from Rogers’ chest, and is then soon replaced by a high keening litany of “godohgodohgodClintClintClint!” Rogers squirms and writhes, but not so much that he ever risks losing Clint’s mouth. Clint grips him tighter and spreads his cheeks wider and doesn’t stop until he feels Rogers body jerk and buck in orgasm, so wound up that he comes without either of them ever touching his dick. Clint looks up in time to see Rogers’ abs squeeze into tight knots and come stream through the air, hitting Rogers in the face, matting his hair, coating his neck and chest in thick pearly ribbons. Clint sits up on his knees and looks at Rogers’ hole, still clenching rhythmically after his orgasm, but looking pliant and loose from Clint’s attention. He thinks for a moment about what it would feel like to push his own cock into the tight welcoming heat. He thinks about it, and then he shakes his head and stops himself. Because Rogers doesn’t want that. No matter what he might say right now, before, when he was clear-headed, he said he didn’t want it. Rogers looks so fucked out and blissful, still panting hard, that Clint can’t bring himself to manhandle the man around and onto his knees. Instead he crawls up Rogers’ body and straddles his face, nudging at his mouth with his cock. Rogers opens immediately - opening his eyes at the same instant – and pulling Clint’s cock in, sucking hard on the head. The next moment, his hand is on the base of Clint’s dick, pulling and twisting the way he’s already figured out Clint likes. Clint gives him a hand – reaches down and grabs the back of Rogers’ head in his palm, helping to support him so that he can get more of Clint down his throat with less effort. Rogers bobs his head for a while, then Clint takes hold with both hands and holds him still, reversing the motion so Clint is moving instead of Steve. It’s a little more awkward in this position, for Rogers more than Clint, but it works. It doesn’t let him get nearly as deep down Rogers’ throat as when he’s on his knees, but it’ll get him where he needs to go, so Clint relaxes into it, dropping his head back and closing his eyes. After another minute, he feels Rogers resist against Clint’s grip and Clint opens his eyes and looks down. “Can I do that to you?” Rogers asks him. “Can I lick you like you did me?” “Fuck. Yes!” Clint answers immediately, and crawls a half-step farther up on the bed, repositioning himself so Rogers can get his mouth on Clint’s ass. The insides of Clint’s thighs are sticky from where the massive amounts of Rogers’ come has been steadily dribbling out of him and down his legs. The tackiness catches on the smooth skin of Rogers’ cheekbones before he works his head back and forth a little to release the tension. Then he reaches up and spreads Clint wide. They both groan as Rogers’ mouth makes contact and he quickly starts eating Clint out. It’s different for Rogers, Clint thinks, because he’s licking his own come out of Clint’s ass, and even though he can’t see it, Clint can imagine how some of the come must be oozing out and sliding down Rogers’ chin and neck. Clint shivers at the thought and his cock twitches violently. His balls sit huge and heavy on the bridge of Rogers’ nose, still so full and taut from the Empulcoitus that they barely move as Rogers’ jaw works against him. It feels like Rogers is devouring him, like he has an insatiable hunger for Clint’s ass and his own come that he’d shoved deep in there. Clint’s dick, engorged beyond anything he’s ever experienced, bobs up and down, hitting Rogers’ forehead now and then when Clint is hit by sudden spasms of pleasure. He leans one hand against the wall in front of him and with the other, starts to work his cock, hypnotically settling into a rhythm that matches what Rogers is doing with his tongue. “Don’t stop,” Clint begs. “Don’t fucking stop,” he demands. “Jesus, please, please, please, don’t fucking stop,” he pleads. A minute later, Steve stops licking and suddenly pushes his chin upward and shoves his tongue impossibly deep into Clint’s ass and Clint comes like a freight train. He yells with the force of it as several pulses of semen shoot against the wall above the bunk before several more weaker shocks drop onto the bed above them and then the top of Rogers’ head. Clint’s panting and his legs are starting to quiver a little with the effort of holding himself up and not suffocating Rogers, even though he knows he doesn’t apparently need to worry about that. Rogers’ tongue is still wriggling obscenely inside of him and as Clint tries to catch his breath, each exhale comes out with a small whine of pleasure. He tips forward a little and leans his forehead against the wall, rocking minutely with the aftershocks and Rogers’ continued ministrations. It feels so fucking good and he rolls his face to the side, mouth dropping open, happy to ride the sensation for as long as Rogers will keep it up. Only a minute later though, Rogers literally lifts Clint off of his face and twists them around so that he’s on top of Clint again, pushing his rock-hard cock into Clint’s relaxed and open hole. Clint can see that he was right about the come dripping down Rogers’ face, and neck and as soon as Rogers crashes their mouths together, Clint can taste it, too. He’s never been a particular fan of the taste of come, but he can’t get enough of it right now – no doubt another effect of the Empulcoitus – and their kissing becomes even more heated as he searches Rogers’ mouth for every last molecule of it that he can get. It goes on for hours – Clint loses all sense of time – and with the exception of that strange moment after Rogers’ second orgasm, it’s never tame, it’s never slow, it’s never gentle; each time is as frantic and feral and desperate as the last. Rogers shifts positions a lot, manhandling Clint roughly and fucking him into all kinds of shapes and contortions. Clint’s not sure if it’s because he wants to try new things or because the Empulcoitus is driving something inside him that won’t let him settle. Somehow, throughout it all and to his credit, Rogers manages to keep from pinning Clint or holding him down, just like Clint asked him; there must be some part of him that’s still in there and still capable of rational thought, just like Clint. For his part, it doesn’t take more than a couple times before Clint understands that it’s so much better for him if he can really fuck Rogers’ face, rather than lay back and have Rogers suck him. So when it’s Clint’s turn, he always pushes the other man to his knees in front of him and Rogers never complains. Over and over he watches Rogers’ face go bright red, lips beginning to tinge with blue as Clint’s cock blocks his airway. Over and over he comes down Rogers’ throat with a gasp or a yell, or sometimes reflexively pulling out and coming on the other man’s body. Over and over, Rogers gets right up as soon as Clint stops shooting and pushes right back into Clint’s ass. They take turns – it’s just that simple – each of them letting the other do what he has to do to get off and release the tortured need inside, then switching. There’s no question that the Empulcoitus is doing something to allow Clint to push staggeringly far beyond the bounds of what he would normally be able to endure, but Rogers started with a huge advantage in that department and it’s clearly carrying over to this situation. At first, about every fifth or sixth time, Clint waves Rogers on and lets him go again, not quite able to keep up with Rogers’ apparent bottomless store of endurance. Then it gets to be every third or fourth; and then Rogers fucks him three times to every one time Clint fucks him back. Eventually, as Clint is on his hands and knees while Rogers batters into him from behind, his legs collapse out from under him and he lands on his stomach. Rogers’ cock slips free as he falls. Only a second later, though, Rogers spreads Clint’s legs wide where they are, lines himself up and pushes back inside. “Cap…” Clint breaths, his voice a harsh whisper. “Cap… I can’t…” he trails off, unable to even form more words in his complete and utter exhaustion. But Rogers shows no signs of letting up, hunkered over Clint, still in that fucking plank position and still fucking him with what feels like almost as much energy as he had hours ago. Clint thinks he feels another orgasm punch out of Rogers, then knows he did when he feels the telltale flush of fresh come oozing out of his ass, even though Rogers continues pumping his hips. Clint whimpers with relief when Rogers finally pulls all the way out and drops onto his back next to Clint. He cracks an eye open and can see that Rogers is pumping his fist up and down on his still-rigid cock, and he honest to god doesn’t give a shit what the man does because he’s about to pass out. “I can’t do it anymore, Cap,” he manages to slur, then catches a glimpse of pure panic flicker across Rogers’ face. “It’s okay…” Clint murmurs. “It’s okay… jus… do what you need to do… jus… try to be gentle, huh?” “Clint..." Rogers says, desperate but torn, clearly horrified at the idea of continuing on with Clint in his current state, but still in obvious and desperate need of relief. Clint flicks his eyes open and shut and sighs. “Don’ want you to die, Cap… do what you need to…” After a silent moment where Clint can’t muster the energy to open his eyes again but he knows the man is arguing with himself, Rogers rolls onto his side, looping an arm around Clint’s waist and tucking his face into Clint’s neck. “I’m sorry, Clint,” he whispers, but he’s already rutting desperately into the side of Clint’s hip. Clint just grunts, and Rogers slowly rolls him onto his side, gently bending Clint’s top knee and pushing it forward, and then slipping his cock in from behind. He can tell that Rogers is trying to be gentle at first, but that seems to be quickly lost in a renewed haze of need and soon it becomes the frantic fucking it’s been the countless times they’ve done this already. Clint’s completely depleted and on the edge of physical collapse. His brain feels thick but he wonders how much longer this can go on. They’ve been fucking for at least 18 hours, by Clint’s estimation, much longer than he had expected they would, but then he grimly remembers the seemingly large blast of Empulcoitus they’d been hit with. Clint himself had lasted so much longer than he expected and his mind skitters nervously away from thoughts of what that means for Rogers, who has the super-serum in his blood. His fuzzy thoughts are interrupted by Rogers’ grunt behind him and Clint feels him go rigid and then feels the telltale jerk of orgasm. Based on the number of times he feels Rogers convulse against him, arms crushing tight around Clint’s chest, he’s is still shooting as much come as he did in the early rounds. Eventually he stills against Clint and relaxes his grip, his ragged breath coming fast and hot on the back of Clint’s head. Clint doesn’t move, just lies there, hoping maybe it’s over and that they can just sleep and wake up and then go home and pretend this never happened. But it’s not more than two minutes before he hears a pitiful whine against his ear and then feels Rogers’ hips start to move again, tentatively at first, and then quickly gaining steam. Christ, Rogers hadn’t even pulled out of him and he’s hard and already pounding rhythmically into Clint again. Clint’s last thought - before he blacks out completely - is that with the super-serum in him, Rogers might actually fuck him to death. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The first thing that Clint registers when he wakes up is that his body is on fire. He’s on his side and he whimpers and shifts the tiniest bit, and then freezes, his breath catching at the sharp, piercing pain that seems to radiate from everywhere at the same time. Everything comes back to Clint in a rush and he turns his head very carefully, following the sight line of the arm thrown akimbo over his middle, to see Rogers lying behind him, either asleep or unconscious, Clint can’t tell. They’re still on the bunk in the quinjet in the same position Clint remembers being before he passed out from exhaustion and Clint can feel Rogers’ breath coming in long, deep exhalations on the back of his head. He lies still and prays Rogers doesn’t wake up as he tries to take stock of his physical condition. He can hardly differentiate the pain, so he starts at the top and works downward as a way to focus. His head is killing him, every beat of his pulse feeling like his brain wants to burst out of his skull. It could be a side effect of the Empulcoitus. It could also be dehydration and/or low blood sugar. He doesn’t actually remember drinking any of the water that he’d carried from the galley in preparation, but he can see maybe a dozen empty bottles scattered around on the floor, so maybe they managed to get some fluids into themselves. It wouldn’t have been nearly enough, though, based on how many hours they were… doing what they were doing… and the amount of fluids their bodies would have lost in the process. There aren’t any similar protein bar wrappers that he can see and he cranes his head a bit to glimpse the still-unopened boxes sitting on the floor a few feet away. Moving on, his face hurts. It takes him a moment to puzzle that out but then realizes that 20-30 hours (he has no idea how long they were at it) of beard-burn probably scraped his face raw. He can also feel that his lips are puffy and swollen, and more oddly, his tongue and jaw ache. From hours and hours of kissing while they fucked? Clint has no idea; he’s pretty certain that except for that brief moment in the beginning when he took Rogers’ dick in his mouth, he didn’t perform any more fellatio, but with a grimace, he does seem to remember Rogers pleading with him to rim him to orgasm more than once – which he enthusiastically complied with at the time - so that, plus the kissing could be the explanation. It’s the only one he can come up with, anyway. Worse, though, and not surprisingly, he supposes, his mouth tastes like something crawled inside and died there. Besides eating Rogers ass repeatedly, he knows he definitely licked a lot of come from Rogers’ face and body during the ordeal. Ugh. He can’t imagine what possessed him. Oh, wait, yes he can. Clint grimaces again. His neck aches, and like his jaw, it’s probably from too many hours of overuse and strain. He can picture Rogers crouched over him, Clint stretching his neck to reach up so that his tongue can lave at Rogers’ hole. Clint feels his face heat. Another flash hits him, of Rogers grabbing his hair and craning his neck back. Why? Clint can’t quite grab hold of the memory. He realizes that pretty much every muscle in his body carries the telltale ache of overuse; his arms and legs feel like rubber. He hazards a glance downward to look at what he can see of his body in the dim light of the cabin and has to clamp his eyes shut again for a second to regroup and take a deep breath. It comes out shaky on the exhale but he opens his eyes and looks again. His entire body, what he can see of it anyway, is littered with bruises: finger sized bruises that clearly tell a story of Rogers gripping him tightly with his large hands; larger bruises that are a bit of mystery; and maybe most disconcerting, the bruises that were clearly made by Rogers mouth. There are dozens of hickies, or love bites, or whatever, all over his torso. His hand moves up automatically and lightly touches his neck, as the fleeting earlier memory solidifies into Rogers gripping his hair and tipping his head back so that he can get access and suck hard. He can’t see his neck but he’s pretty sure when he can there’re going to be a lot more of those marks. Lovely. Clint starts to groan in frustration – he fucking hates hickies – but then cuts himself off quickly and freezes, afraid of waking Rogers. Thankfully, the man behind him doesn’t stir and Clint moves on with his self-assessment. Having put off the inevitable for as long as possible, he moves his attention down to his groin. He can’t really get much of a look at it without moving because his knees are bent and his hips are tucked backward, and the way Rogers’ arm is slung over him is obscuring his view. But he can feel it. Jesus Christ, can he feel it. He knows immediately that what he’s feeling is the result of hours and hours and hours of fucking, causing severe chafing on his penis, scrotum, thighs and ass. The pain is all encompassing and he can’t really differentiate the agony of one part of genitals from any other at this point – it’s all just one huge mass of fiery pain. He can’t stop himself from squirming a little bit but then he freezes, for the first time registering that – oh, fucking Christ - Rogers’ dick is still in his ass. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and tries to take a calming breath. God, this is… gross. Disgusting. Disturbing. Excruciating. Humiliating. So many things that Clint doesn’t want to think about. The primary thing on his mind has now become how to get Rogers out of him and get the hell off of this bunk. Carefully, gently, he lifts Rogers’ arm and sets it behind him between their bodies, then gingerly tries to slide away from Rogers. But Rogers’ cock doesn’t just slip out as Clint expects it to. Even completely soft, as Clint can feel it is (finally – it occurs to him that he never actually saw Rogers’ dick when it wasn’t at least partially erect), Rogers’ dick is bigger than most and Clint still feels full with it. And apparently Rogers’ come has dried around Clint’s opening and it feels like they’re virtually cemented together. The abused skin around his hole burns and pulls painfully and he’s assaulted with a flood of overlapping memories, old and new, but none he wants to revisit so he shoves them aside. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut and braces himself for a for a few seconds and then, without letting himself think about it, pulls himself off. It takes every bit of control Clint has not to scream because it hurts like a motherfucker when Rogers’ cock releases with a squelching noise. Almost worse, Clint feels a sudden warm rush of fluid pour out of his ass – it’s disgusting and sticky and there’s so much of it that Clint is frankly stunned. The free-flowing semen burns the raw and abraded skin around his hole and that’s followed by a deep, deep burning ache and such severe cramping in his lower digestive track that he has to stop and concentrate on breathing through it. The cramps come in debilitating waves and he can’t move for several long minutes as he waits for them to subside, trying desperately not to make noise and wake Rogers up because he can’t really bear the idea of facing the man at the moment. As they ease off a little, he realizes that come is still sliding from his ass and he wonders how many times, exactly, Rogers came inside of him after Clint passed out. And didn’t he ever pull out at all and release all that come? It doesn’t seem like it. Quickly following that thought is the realization that the combined come they both produced means that he’s been lying on a mostly saturated mattress for several hours. Clint recalls having a fleeting thought about the ‘wet spot’ the first time Rogers came, but the realities of that are more grim than he ever considered. Lying on the wet mattress for the last (probably) several hours means the skin where his body has been in contact with the material is also chafed - irritated and painful – probably not unlike a baby with diaper rash. Fuck. He finishes his physical assessment with the realization that about the only part of his body that doesn’t hurt are his feet. Thank Christ for that because at least he’ll be able to walk the hell out of here. Which is good, because he needs to get out of the bunk and out of this room, away from Rogers, so he can maybe have a quiet mental breakdown. He carefully rolls away from Rogers, using every bit of fortitude he has to stay quiet, and employ his practiced ease and silent grace. Thankfully he somehow manages it without waking the other man. Once he’s on his feet, he stops and watches Rogers for a moment to be sure, grimacing at the cooling come that continues to trickle steadily down his legs and the cramps that keep rolling through him as his body works hard to expel the foreign substance. He can see crusty, dried come all over Rogers’ body – most of it probably Clint’s - and his hair looks like it’s matted with it. He swallows uneasily and turns away. There’s an open, and half-full bottle of water near his right foot and he slowly bends down to scoop it up and then drinks what remains as quickly – but as quietly – as possible. Every swallow is painful, but blissful at the same time, the cool liquid easing across the swollen membranes of his lips, tongue and soft palate. It’s just enough to make him realize that he needs a hell of a lot more. He glances around and spots a case and a half of water bottles. He grabs the half case and a box of the protein bars as quietly as possible, limps across the space to snag his clothes, and creeps out of the bunk area. Every single step is agony. He tries to adjust his gait – to not allow any of the sensitive skin to touch or rub – but still, it feels like jagged shards of glass grinding into him with even the slightest contact. All he can do is clenches his teeth and grit his way through the movement. He hesitates for a second, not sure where he’s headed, then steers toward the cockpit since it’s the farthest away he can get from Rogers right now without leaving the quinjet. Once there, he eyes the console warily, debating whether to contact Coulson. He should, but doesn't. It’s a dick move - Coulson's probably worried - but he’d still rather put that conversation off as long as possible, thanks. Instead, he stands as still as he can, cracks open another bottle of water and guzzles it down in a few quick gulps. Then another and another. After the third, he turns his attention back to his body. Reluctantly, he casts his first full glance down his torso and finds it’s as grim as he feared. Standing with bright sunlight shining through the windscreen, Clint’s body looks obscene; abused and deformed. The bruises from Rogers’ hands look blacker than in the dark bunk area, and those from his mouth look redder. And they’re everywhere. He lifts a hesitant hand to his neck, then drops it, not wanting to think about what he can’t see. His arms are littered with more black bruises than he’s ever seen on them, even after the worst battles he can remember. Worse, though, is the state of his genitals. His penis and scrotum are swollen to nearly grotesque size, and bright red and inflamed from the incessant chafing of 24 hours of being repeatedly shoved down Rogers’ throat, the combination of spit, sweat, and come irritating the tender skin. The skin on the right side of his body is also severely irritated, feeling like it’s been rubbed raw with sandpaper from laying on the soiled mattress for hours. He can’t see his back, but he knows there are more black and red marks there as well, and his ass… Clint’s mind skitters uneasily away from those thoughts. He drags his eyes away from his body for a moment and reaches for the box of protein bars that he’d set on the co-pilot’s chair. His hands shake as he tries to open them, and when he finally cracks the box and gets to the bars themselves, he has to rip the wrapping free with his teeth. He shoves half of a bar into his mouth and chews quickly and mechanically. He knows he needs the calories, so when he finishes, he eats another, and then guzzles a fourth bottle of water and opens a fifth, drinking half. He’s mostly successful at keeping his mind blank as he chews, concentrating on the motion of his jaw and trying to minimize the pain there, not really tasting anything. After two more protein bars, he stops, exhaustion overcoming him. Within arm’s reach – thankfully - is the cockpit’s first-aid kit, and he grabs the bottle of ibuprofen out of it, swallowing 5 pills with the last half of the fifth bottle of water. He could really use some Vaseline, or some other barrier for his chafed skin, but he’d caught sight of the empty jar in the bunk room (even though he doesn’t really remember using it past that first couple of times), and the small first-aid kits don’t hold any. He starts to use some gauze from the first-aid kit to wipe at the wet come still coating his ass and legs, but the first swipe has him greying out, so he aborts. He takes a quick look at what he managed and is relieved to see that it’s only tinged pink, and there doesn’t seem to be any active or severe bleeding. He breathes a shaky sigh of relief. He remembers trying to go slow at first, to make sure that they didn’t do too much damage, but he had Captain America’s enormous fucking cock battering into his ass for the better part of a day so he couldn’t be sure. He doesn’t think he’s ripped or torn too badly, but there are no doubt some fissures there – he just hopes they’re not bad enough that they’ll require suturing. He knows that getting some clothes back on is going to be agonizing, but he also knows that he’s going to do it no matter how painful it is. Getting his underarmour on isn’t as bad as he thought it would be – the pain is excruciating, but not debilitating - and the material is made to wick away moisture, so that’s a blessing. But getting his uniform back on is some of the worse pain he’s ever experienced. The damned material is so fucking tight and excruciating to drag over his abused skin that the only thing that keeps him going with it is the knowledge that eventually he’s going to have to face other people and he sure as hell isn’t going to do it with the state of his body exposed for everyone to see. He needs more rest but he’s not quite sure how he’s going to accomplish that. He’s not going to go back into the bunk area. He considers the med-bay, and the narrow exam table there, but that’s highly unappealing in itself and the thought of the steps required to get there is too much to consider. The floor would be miserable. Hell, every place or position he can think of would be miserable. Eventually, he eyes the pilot’s seat warily and decides it’s his best option. He steps over to it and carefully, gingerly, lowers himself down. He thinks that if he leans forward he can maybe keep some of the pressure off of his extremely abused ass and take most of the weight on the back of his thighs. It will put more pressure on his genitals, and it’s a toss-up which feels worse at this point, but if he spreads his legs wide, maybe he can minimize any additional friction. He figures it’s worth a shot. It doesn’t go well. It hurts like fuck and he greys out again before the sharp pain snaps him back to the here-and-now, his limbs shaking and tingly. He almost stands back up again, but he knows he needs to sleep and while he may be skilled in sleeping almost anyplace, standing up is not one of them. He moves very slowly and eventually is able to take a good bit of pressure off the most painful areas, but not all of it; it feels like the lower half of his body is going to splinter into a million pieces. He considers intentionally putting pressure on so he’ll just pass out, but even he has to admit that that would be really fucking stupid because losing consciousness and control is never better. So instead he maneuvers as delicately as he possibly can - whimpering uncontrollably the entire time and not caring one bit - and manages to lean forward and drape himself over the console enough that he thinks it might work. He’s not sure how he’s really ever going to be able to sleep considering the utter agony he’s in, but he knows he needs to try, so he closes his eyes and gives it a shot. Steve wakes slowly, opens his eyes and is momentarily disoriented. He rolls stiffly onto his back, recognizing the minor discomfort of the overexertion of his muscles. It’s not distressing because it’s how he often feels after a battle, and he knows his body is already well on its way to recovery from… Wait… battle? Oh. Shit. Flashes of the previous couple of days come back to him but his recall is disjointed and seems nonlinear. Much of what happened after the Empulcoitus kicked in has an indistinct quality, as though the human memories couldn’t quite take hold in his mind through the unrelenting animalistic need to fuck. But they're clear enough to make Steve flush in embarrassment as he sits up and looks around wildly. His thoughts have moved quickly past himself and onto his more pressing concern for Barton as he looks worriedly around the bunkroom. He doesn’t see any sign of him, and while his own Captain America uniform is laying where he left it on the floor, Barton's clothes are gone. He tells himself that both absences are a good thing since it means that Barton must still be alive and at least mobile enough to walk away, and he breathes a small sigh a relief. That feeling is short lived, though, as he takes in the scattered handful of empty water bottles, and then sees the Vaseline jar - laying discarded and swiped clean on the floor – and his mind supplies a clear image of his hand smearing the jelly on his cock and then pushing brutally into Barton. Steve drops his face into his hands, shaking his head with a quiet groan of wishful denial. He drops backward again onto the mattress, only to sit up again when he registers the cold, clammy dampness and comes to a quick, disquieting understanding of why it’s wet. He scrambles off the bunk and reaches to snag his uniform from the floor. Before he dresses, Steve fully takes in the specific state of his body. His mind helpfully supplies that the dried, crusty substance all over him is obviously semen, though whose, he can’t say for sure. Most likely some of both of theirs. He dazedly remembers how each time he’d orgasmed, it felt unnaturally prolonged and he seemed to generate almost terrifying amounts of ejaculate – so much more than when he’s fisted himself off since he returned from the ice. He’s kind of disgustedly amazed at how much of it there is on his body, given the fact that the best he can recollect, he mostly came in Barton's ass, and Barton mostly came in his mouth and down his throat. The memory has him swallowing reflexively and he notices the discomfort there for the first time; the pain isn’t bad, but it’s enough to remind him why it’s sore. He’s pretty sure that if he’d woken a couple of hours ago, his mouth and throat would have been in considerably more discomfort and he feels both relief and guilt that he has the Super Serum running through his veins. His mouth tastes awful and though he can’t remember how many times he swallowed Barton’s come, he knows it was a lot. A real lot. And, oh God, the distinct memory of licking his own come out of Barton’s ass comes to him and he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will away the image. How… how could he have done that? How had he wanted to do that? It’s all incredibly confusing and his breath starts to come too fast and Steve bends over with his hands on his knees to try to gain control. He’s never actually had a panic attack before, but he feels like these circumstances warrant one if any ever did; not only did he just spend a day or so having sex with a coworker (he was possibly a friend before this), someone he was never attracted to before, but it was sex with another man and Steve’s not gay. And the sheer excess of it is so… disturbing. He’s trying to wrap his mind around how they could have gone on so long when… oh, no. Oh, God. Nonononono. Steve stumbles backward until his back hits the wall and he slides down it. He pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around his legs and drops his head down onto them, breathing fast again. After a few minutes, he lifts his head and stares at the bunk across the room, all the while, intense guilt and shame assaulting him as he remembers how he had continued to fuck Barton even after the man had lost consciousness. How long had he done that? How many times? Barton was unconscious and he had… Steve abruptly rolls over onto his hands and knees and retches. Thankfully, he doesn’t quite vomit because he doesn’t want to think about what it would be that he would be coming up if he had. After a couple more dry heaves, he sits back, sweating and clammy and breathing hard. He tries to conjure up the desire he felt the day before – the unyielding need – to have sex with Barton. To not stop having sex with Barton even when the man had become debilitated. But none of that desire remains. He feels no attraction to Barton – or any man – and he has a hard time wrapping his mind around what he experienced yesterday, versus how he felt the day before, and how he feels today. It’s incredibly disconcerting. As he grapples with his confused and dismayed emotions, Steve spies the unopened case of water across the room and quickly crosses to it, tearing it open and grabbing a bottle. He practically rips the top off without unscrewing it and chugs it down as quickly as possible. His throat feels a little raw and he squeezes his eyes shut as he drinks, trying not to think about why. He knows he’s probably dehydrated so he guzzles three more bottles, barely stopping to take a breath, then opens another and pours it down his torso, scrubbing viciously at the crusty surface to try to get the come off. As the water sluices down his body, he forces himself focus on his penis for the first time. It’s slightly tender and blotchy-red, but he knows from experience that his body is healing itself at an astonishing rate, so it must have been much worse before he’d passed out, and by tomorrow he shouldn’t have any pain or discomfort at all. He also knows from experience – from life pre-serum – what it feels like to be hurt or sick and how long it takes to heal without the serum. Not to mention that he’d watched his friends in the army - and now his more-human teammates - take some hits and deal with injuries, so he knows how long and painful recovery can be for normal people. Usually though, it’s the enemy that causes the injuries, not Steve. Steve grunts in frustration and shakes his head, trying to just concentrate on cleaning himself up. He grabs a fresh bottle of water and pours it over his genital area. His pubic hair is basically one knotted, matted mess and trying to rinse out and untangle the hair is probably the most painful thing he’s experiencing, as his efforts sharply tweak the sensitive skin beneath, causing him to wince. He almost feels relief that there’s something that the Super Serum can’t fix, but then shame rises up in him at the thought that come-tangled hair is the worst he will suffer. Barton… he doesn’t want to think about what Barton must be dealing with, and the worst part is that Steve gets to pretty much walk away unscathed. Ultimately, he abandons that effort as a lost cause until he can get a proper shower, and starts to pour some water over his face, scrubbing the disturbing amount of residue from there as well. He quickly realizes he’s got some in his ear and pours more water. As he scrubs his ear, his fingers brush over his hair and he stops the water and reaches up to touch his head. The hair there feels about the same as his pubic hair - clumps that are stiff and matted - and he thinks maybe Barton’s come fell there when Steve had licked him out. Along with that, another vague memory rises, too – of Barton pulling his cock out of Steve’s throat and coming on Steve’s face and head. He thinks that was an accident on Barton’s part – recalls some sort of half-hearted apology – but it’s still gross and uncomfortable to think about so he goes back to trying not to. Once he’s rinsed himself as best he can with the bottles of water he slides back into his Captain America uniform, pulling the cowl up over his hair to cover the mess that he didn’t even try to rinse, but leaving his face exposed. Then he quickly polishes off an entire box of protein bars and six more bottles of water, and goes looking for Barton. Honestly, the last thing he wants to do right now is have to face Barton, but he’s pretty worried about what the man’s physical condition must be and he wants to get the hell out of east-jesus Canada and get back home so Barton can get the treatment he no doubt needs. He checks the med bay and other corners of the jet before making his way to the cockpit where he stops at the door when he sees Barton slumped over the controls console. “Hawkeye?” Steve asks tentatively, but the other man doesn’t reply – doesn’t even move. Steve’s heart races as he steps closer, afraid Barton is comatose, or worse, dead. As he moves around and gets a better look at him, it doesn’t make Steve feel any better. Barton is deathly pale and Steve can’t tell if he’s breathing. Carefully, he reaches out to touch Barton’s neck to see if he can find a pulse. He hesitates for a split second when he glimpses Barton’s neck and sees the bright red blotches that he knows came from his own mouth. He forces his hand to keep moving forward, at the same time cringing at the memory of an uncharacteristic but desperate sense of possessiveness that drove him to mark Barton all over his body, in an aggressive effort to claim him. He still can’t recreate that need in his mind and finds the discord leaves him feeling shaken. Thankfully, he finally feels Barton's pulse, slightly elevated, but strong enough that he’s not apparently in any immediate danger. He doesn’t know what to do, so wanting to delay the inevitable and rationalizing it by telling himself that Barton needs the rest, Steve silently sits in the co-pilot’s chair. Now that he’s calmed a little and paying closer attention, he can see Barton's back heave slightly with the shallow, but regular, breath of sleep. Not having any idea how long Barton may have been out and knowing he must need rest, he decides to give him another hour before he tries to wake him so they can start to make their way back home. Guilt ripples through Steve again as he looks over at Barton , trying to assess his physical condition. The way he’s slumped over the controls can’t be comfortable, which says something about how the rest of him must feel if that’s how he positioned himself to try to sleep. Steve squirms ashamedly. When he looks closely, besides the grey pallor and red bite marks covering his neck, he can see that under the couple-days’ growth, Barton's face and neck look raw and inflamed. He furrows his brow, trying to figure out what might have caused that when a vivid sense-memory from 1943 assails him. A young woman had sat on his lap, fucking him slowly while kissing him for over an hour. He was inexperienced but she clearly was not, and he thought that she had ridden him to at least a couple of orgasms while he hovered so close to the edge for so long that it had been maddening. Eventually she had sighed and slid off of him and he’d whimpered at the fear that she was going to leave before he could come. “Sorry, baby,” she had drawled in her lilting southern accent. “You’re too much for me to go on any more. As it is, I know I’m going to be feeling this tomorrow,” she’d winked and didn’t sound upset about it. “But you just lie back and I’ll take care of you.” And she had, kissing him for another age and using her hand to slowly bring him to completion. Then he’d fallen asleep, wrung out from delayed pleasure; it had been the first time Steve had spent an entire night with a girl. In the morning, he had awoken and entertained thoughts of doing it again, but when he stirred and she lifted her head, Steve had been shocked to see her face bright red and looking scraped raw. She’d shimmied out of bed and looked at herself in the mirror over the sink in the room. “Oh, sweetheart, you really did it to me, didn’t you?” she’d huffed, but she didn’t really seem hurt or angry. “Just wait ‘til I tell the other girls that Captain American gave me beard burn!” she’d crowed. “Won’t they all be jealous!” Steve had just gaped at her because he knew there was more going on here than he really understood, but his cock had a mind of its own and it jumped a little to see a naked girl standing in his room, despite her somewhat rough appearance. She noticed and smiled indulgently. “Oh, honey, I’d dearly love to ride you again, but as it is, I’m going to be feeling you for days, what with you being such a monster down there.” Steve’s eyes followed her gaze down to look at his half-erect cock and he’d blushed. “But let’s see what else we can get up to,” she’d added mischievously and then given him his very first blow job. It may have technically happened over 70 years ago, but to his recently-unfrozen mind, the memory is fresh and it brings a renewed wave of guilt as Steve considers the beard burn and her words about feeling tender after just an hour of slow fucking. Steve had felt bad about that – that she was sore and her face was scraped and inflamed – but the fact that she was happy enough to give him a blowjob made him think that maybe it wasn’t so bad. He isn’t deluding himself about that this time, though. He doesn’t think that Barton is going to walk away quite so happy-go-lucky as the girl had. He closes his eyes against intrusive thoughts about the fear he’d heard in Barton's voice in his early rebukes to Steve to go slow or he was going to end up hurt. Barton had pleaded with him to be careful, but while their sex may have started that way, that rapidly changed and soon enough, and for the rest of the day, their fucking had been anything but slow or gentle. Even if he didn’t remember it – which he did - the mass of bruises visible on Barton's arms tell that story clearly enough. He remembers Barton's uncomfortable request not to hold him down and his obvious desire not to be in a position where anything constricted his airway. Steve had tried. He really had. As soon as Barton had mentioned it, Steve had mentally pulled up Barton's file and immediately understood. In 2005, in the Congo, Barton had been captured and in an unsuccessful effort to get him to reveal the details of the SHIELD operation there, they had forcibly held him down – not tied him down, but had several men hold him – and waterboarded him for days on end. Steve shudders as he looks at the visible marks on Barton's arms and prays that he had complied, but the sheer volume of bruising there seems to belie his hope. And those are just the injuries he can see. Steve is well aware that there have to be many, many more that he can’t see under Barton's uniform. He knows he had marked Barton's chest and back with his mouth, dozens of times, at least. And he knows… oh, God, he knows what he did to Barton for hours and hours and hours, even after his friend had passed out; things that will cause severe pain and possibly grave damage. He honestly has no idea how he’s ever going to be able to face Barton again. Or Coulson. Steve lets the allotted hour come and go and doesn’t try to wake Barton. It’s gutless, he knows, but he easily justifies it by continuing to tell himself that Barton's body undoubtedly needs more rest to begin to recover. After another 17 minutes, though, Barton's eyes start to flutter, and then they open and he blinks several times before Steve sees him comprehend what he’s seeing. Barton abruptly sits up and Steve can see on his face how much pain that causes the man but he doesn’t make a sound. Steve winces in sympathy, more guilt crashing over him. “Cap,” Barton acknowledges him finally, gritting the word out through clenched teeth and clearly wanting to look anywhere but in Steve’s direction. He finally does anyway. “You okay?” Barton asks him. “Shouldn’t,” Steve starts, only then realizing that his voice is gravelly and rough, and he stops and tries to clear his throat. Barton seems to flinch at the sound of Steve’s voice and looks away. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he scratches out, forcing himself to hold Barton's gaze when the other man looks back at him again. Barton sighs and closes his eyes for a second. “Seems to me we both have reasons to be asking,” he says, eyeing Steve pointedly. Steve finally loses his own battle with embarrassment and turns away for a moment. Thankfully, Barton shifts gears. “Any idea how long we’ve been… done?” he asks. “No,” Steve says. He has no idea when his own body had finally given out or how long he’d slept afterward, so he has no real idea how long into their 12-hour mandatory, post-event quarantine they might be. He looks out the windscreen at the setting sun and then at the clock and mentally calculates how long they’ve been gone. He knows they started… having sex… at around 9:00am because they had breached the empty Hydra base at 7:00am and the substance had taken a couple hours to fully kick in. The expectation was that the ‘event’ would last approximately 18 hours, give or take a couple of hours, but while nobody verbalized it, he knows they were all wondering if the Super Serum in Steve’s blood would affect that one way or another. He’s pretty sure it had, and not in a good way. He had retained enough awareness to notice the sky go dark and then light again and stay that way for a long time before the desperate need had finally faded – long after Barton's body had succumbed. His best guess is that while the Empulcoitus may have run its course in Barton after maybe 20 hours or so, he thinks he kept going for closer to 26 hours, but really, he has no way of knowing; it could have been as much as 30 or 36. He was so far from coherent, especially at the end, that he can’t really even hazard a guess. Barton just nods and squints out the windscreen into the dimming light. He wonders if Barton sees something there that Steve can’t. He knows he needs to apologize for what he’s done so he takes a breath. “Hawkeye, I’m--” he starts, but Barton cuts him off ruthlessly. “You know what? I’m gonna go with ‘long enough’,” Barton says, and starts flipping switches on the console to power up the jet. “Are you okay to fly?” Steve asks, alarmed, because Barton truly looks like he might pass out any second. Barton seems to stiffen at his words and then abruptly pulls the jet into lift-off, causing Steve to scramble to get into his harness. Barton doesn’t bother with his own. Steve wonders if that’s because the attempt would be too painful for the man. But Steve gets Barton's message loud and clear and doesn’t try to engage him any further. It’s not like Steve really wants to talk about any of this either. A couple hours of silence later, though, Steve feels like he needs to ask. “Have you talked to SHIELD?” He sees Barton tense and remembers their conversation about Coulson and understands that that added layer of complication must make this even more uncomfortable for Barton. It certainly does for Steve. “No,” Barton answers tersely with a jerky shake of his head. “Not yet.” Steve nods and reaches for the radio. Someone needs to do this and the least Steve can do is spare Barton this one discomfort – if only for a couple of hours. He doesn’t turn on the video feed, though, leaving it with just the audio. “Hawkeye? Captain?” he hears Coulson’s voice as soon as the connection goes live. He sounds the same as he always does to Steve’s ear – calm, collected and professional - but he sees Barton flinch minutely and wonders if he’s heard something Steve can’t discern. “Agent Coulson,” he answers as smoothly as he can and sees Clint send a fleeting glance his way. “We’re returning to base, Sir. ETA,” he pauses and looks at the instrument panel, “two hours, forty-three minutes.” “Status report, Captain?” Coulson asks, and this time it sounds to Steve like he’s being very careful with his words. Steve hesitates and looks at Barton , who gives a small shake of his head. Steve’s not entirely sure what he’s trying to communicate. “Both conscious and ambulatory,” Rogers says eventually. “Hawkeye is piloting the jet,” he adds, meaning to impart some small measure of reassurance to Coulson about Barton's condition; that he’s alive and at least okay enough to be in the pilot’s chair. Barton seems to relax fractionally. There’s a brief pause before Coulson speaks again. “Is there anything you need right now?” This time it’s Steve who chooses his words carefully. “No, Sir. I don’t believe there’s anything you can do for either of us,” Steve says, his eyes darting to Barton for a second. Barton gives a tiny nod of approval, or appreciation, or something. “Roger that. See you soon, Captain,” Coulson answers and there’s a slight hesitation before he cuts the connection. Steve sighs in relief that that’s over and turns toward Barton again. But he is resolutely staring straight ahead, so Steve takes it as the hint that it is. They fly in silence the rest of the way to New York; Barton looking like he’s using every reserve he has to stay seated upright and fly the jet, and Steve stewing in his remorse. When they finally get back to the SHIELD base, Barton sets the quinjet down in the gentlest landing Steve’s ever experienced. Once the engines are powered down, Steve turns to his teammate again. “Hawkeye… Barton…” he starts and then stops, because he can’t seem to find the right words to say. A simple ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t seem nearly adequate enough. Barton sighs. “There’s nothing to say, Cap. It’s over. Let’s just forget about it.” He’s staring out the windscreen, and when Steve looks he can see that Barton is watching Coulson stalk toward the jet with a grim expression on his face. Steve is conflicted; wanting to get out an apology, but knowing that neither of them really wants to discuss what happened. “Okay,” he eventually relents quietly, feeling cowardly again, but also relieved. “Go ahead, I’ll be right behind you,” Barton says, clearly not wanting Steve to see him try to negotiate out of the seat and off the jet, but Steve’s concerned he won’t be able to manage it on his own. He hesitates. Barton closes his eyes. “Please…” Steve still hesitates, but then stands up and quickly makes his way out the back of the jet. Phil crosses the flight deck with trepidation, worried like hell about what he’s going to find when he gets inside that quinjet. The last two days, while waiting for Clint and Rogers to check in, have been beyond difficult: knowing what was going on thousands of miles away; knowing that both men were acting beyond their control; knowing there wasn’t a damned thing Phil could do to stop it or help in any way. But mostly knowing that the situation was probably tripping all of Clint’s triggers. When they’d been recruiting Clint into the agency, SHIELD had done it’s standard invasive and thorough background check, and they actually got that asshole, Jacque Duquesne, on record bragging about how he’d ‘trained’ the young Clint Barton ‘in more ways than one.’ And some years later, when he and Clint had started a relationship, it hadn’t taken long for Phil to come to a pretty clear understanding of what that meant. After the Congo, Clint had spoken fairly easily about the fact that after what happened, he didn’t want to be held down and that he needed Phil not to jerk his hips if Phil’s cock was in his mouth. But the rest, Clint didn’t talk about and Phil had had to figure it out on his own, reading Clint’s reactions and making inferences from his file. Clint’s tells were small, but after knowing Clint for so many years, Phil knew that the fact that he could see them at all, spoke volumes. Rule number one: Clint doesn’t bottom. None of it had been a problem for Phil. He was happy to have Clint top. And he could control himself when Clint gave him a blowjob because Clint gave mind-blowing blowjobs and Phil didn’t want to do anything that might discouraged him from giving them. But Phil’s seen the tapes; he knows that once Empulcoitus kicked in, the victims largely degenerated into mindless fucking-machines, so desperate for relief that they would do anything. And compliant to let their partners do anything to them as well. He never saw any reluctance or restraint on any of the videos he’d watched. Phil couldn’t see how Clint was going to get out the other side of this situation without facing a lot of personal demons. Worrying about Clint has Phil completely strung out. He’s been subsisting on coffee and pastries for two days, with only a few hours of sleep on the couch in his office. He’s jittery and stressed, and the only times he can remember being more tightly wound are those interminable days of searching for Clint in the Congo, and the three when Loki had Clint. When the 18-hour mark had come and gone, Phil hadn’t been terribly surprised. Eighteen hours was optimistic – the best-case scenario – but given what they’d reported about the quantity of Empulcoitus they’d been hit with, Phil had suspected that it wouldn’t be best case scenario. When 20 hours, and then 24, had come and gone, Phil had gotten significantly more anxious. At 30 hours, Phil had cursed and thrown all the files on his desk across the room, then spent the next hour sorting and reorganizing them and frankly happy for the mental diversion. At 35 hours, he’d gone down to the range and shot 25 straight clips of ammo, shredding every target in sight and sending junior agents running. At 38 hours, Phil had sent another quinjet to head toward their last-known coordinates and then called it back with an exhausted and shaking voice when he’d finally heard from Rogers at nearly 40 hours. Then, overwhelmed with relief, he’d locked his office door, set the alarm on his phone for two-and-a-half hours later, and immediately collapsed into a deep, exhausted sleep. Slightly rested and slightly more in control now, Phil watches the quinjet land and he approaches, his pulse quickening. This situation has pushed all of his buttons where Clint is concerned and as much as they always keep the personal and professional separate, this time he’s not certain how long, and to what extent, he’ll be able to retain the level demeanor he knows people have come to expect from him. He slips on his sunglasses because he may be pretty damn good at schooling his expression but he’s not willing to place any bets on his poker face at the moment. He sees Rogers emerge alone from the back of the quinjet and Phil wants to walk right past the man and get inside to Clint, but he stops. “Captain,” Phil greets him, barely able to contain his impatience. “Agent Coulson,” Rogers answers, looking incredibly uncomfortable, but hand it to the man, maintaining composure. “Agent Barton?” he asks immediately, because Clint is the much more important variable here. Phil can’t help notice that Rogers looks more or less fine. He’s read everything there is about the serum in Rogers’ blood and knows that the man’s body would have largely healed itself of any injuries by now. On the other hand, he knows that Clint’s body will have not, and he can’t help the bubble of resentment that works its way through him. “In the cockpit,” Rogers tells him. “He told me to go ahead without him,” he adds, a clear note of apology in his voice. “Is he alright?” Phil can’t stop himself from asking. “He’s…” Rogers flushes noticeably and hesitates, looking at the open rear hatch, then back to Phil again. He clears his throat. “I think he’s worse than he’s letting on.” Phil sighs and ducks his head, rubbing his fingers harshly across his eyebrows in frustration. “So, Hawkeye SOP, then?” Rogers just grunts in affirmation. Phil mimics Rogers’ earlier motion, looking at the open jet and then back. “Get to medical, Captain,” he tells the man in front of him. “I’m fine, Sir,” he answers. “The serum--” “May be helping you recover, but we don’t know enough about this substance and we’re not taking any chances here,” Phil snaps at him. “That’s an order, Captain.” He doesn’t really want to stand here and argue the point with Rogers when all Phil really cares about is checking on Clint. “Yes, Sir,” Rogers replies immediately, because Phil is right and Rogers knows it. But Rogers hesitates a moment, seeming to scrutinize him. Phil just stares back implacably, growing increasingly impatient for Rogers to leave. When he finally turns and walks briskly toward the building, Phil watches him until he’s out of sight, wondering for a few seconds if Rogers knows about him and Clint. He’s certain he didn’t before this incident, because they’re both very private and they work in a world where known personal connections can make you or your partner vulnerable. As far as Phil is aware, outside of the two of them, only Fury, Hill, and Natasha know, but this situation certainly had the potential to bring things to light. But that’s really not at all important right now. Phil takes a deep breath in an effort to calm himself and then makes his way into the jet, walking decisively toward the cockpit where he finds Clint still sitting in the pilot’s seat. He doesn’t turn - even though Phil made a point to be sure he heard him coming - and Phil is fucking thankful for it. Because Phil’s body reacts viscerally, twitching in horror at the visible evidence of what has transpired over the last couple of days. He can see myriad fingertip sized bruises all up and down Clint’s arms, and sharp, red ecchymosis ringing Clint’s neck. Jealously and rage rise up inside of him, and he balls his fists. It’s only the fact that Clint needs him that stops him from leaving to chase down Rogers and punch him in the face – repeatedly. But, no. That’s not fair, Phil knows, and he stops himself and takes a breath. Rogers was under the influence just like Clint, and if Phil had seen Rogers 12 hours ago, his body would have probably told a similar story. Still, Phil has to fight hard to push the anger down. “Do you need assistance, Agent?” Phil asks, trying to keep his voice nothing but professional even though he knows Clint can see right through him. Still, Clint hates any overt show of concern in the field, so right now, and until they’ve cleared the jet and medical has triaged him, they’re Agent Coulson and Agent Barton, or Hawkeye; nothing more. After that, when things are settled, maybe Clint will let Phil get closer and offer comfort. Maybe. Clint doesn’t look at him, just stares straight ahead, and there’s a tension there that Phil can’t quite interpret, which is disconcerting. “There is no fucking way in hell I am letting you or anyone else carry me off this jet,” Clint bites out, clenching his jaw furiously. “Understood,” Phil answers readily. “However, it’s nonnegotiable that the only place you’ll be going from here is Medical.” His words are firm and unyielding. Clint barks a humorless laugh. “For once, I agree with you, Sir,” he says tightly. “I’d be really fucking grateful if you could clear the deck first, though,” he adds. Phil understands. He’s pretty sure he kept a lid on the fact that Captain America and Hawkeye were dosed with Empulcoitus, but anyone who saw Clint now would see the handprint bruises on his arms and the ring of ecchymosis on his neck and come to some sort of conclusion. And regardless of what it might be, it’s definitely not one that Clint would want people to have about him. “I’ll… Yes, I will. I’ll meet you at the elevator.” He sees Clint nod without looking back and after a second’s hesitation, turns and exits the jet the way he came. Once back on the tarmac, Phil orders the few staff on the deck to clear out, ignoring their confused looks before moving inside and making sure no one is in the area. He radios down to Medical to let them know they’re on their way, and then he waits. It feels like an eternity before he sees Clint emerge from the jet, moving slowly and tentatively, clearly in significant pain. What Phil wouldn’t give for Clint to have just a little of Rogers’ Super Serum right now. Phil can tell that Clint is working hard to walk smoothly but anyone who knows Hawkeye could easily recognize that there is something very wrong with the man; his gait lacks the fluid grace that underscores his years in the circus and smooth skill as an acrobat and soldier. Phil takes off his sunglasses and blanks his face as Clint approaches the elevator, making sure the door is open and ready for them as soon as Clint arrives. “Medical level,” Phil directs as soon as Clint passes the threshold and the box begins its slow descent. Clint faces Phil, their eyes meeting for the first time and he stares at Phil pointedly for a few seconds. Phil recognizes the look for what it is: it’s a warning, a dare for Phil to say anything. Phil gives him his best level expression in return and nods once. Clint’s shoulders ease a bit and he turns around. Phil has the sudden horrifying understanding that Clint hadn’t wanted the deck cleared because he was moving slowly, he had wanted the deck cleared so no one would see what Phil can now see. A small, indignant noise escapes from Phil before he can quash it. For Phil, it’s a slip of gigantic proportions and he recognizes that immediately. An abusive father and then being forced to make his own way when Barney dragged them to the circus has left Clint with a deep-seated need not to be perceived as fragile or a weak link. It’s what makes him so difficult with Medical and has been the biggest source of conflict between the two of them since the beginning. And it’s only gotten worse since he’s been put on a team with superhumans, Gods and geniuses. It’s taken years, but Phil and Clint have come to an unspoken understanding; Phil won’t coddle Clint (no matter how much he longs to) and Clint will be honest – with Phil and himself – about how much medical intervention he really needs. That one small sound Phil made probably undid years of progress and he sees Clint tense up and knows that he’s shutting down as well. Phil closes his eyes and tries to remember if there was anything similar on the Captain America uniform, but he knows there couldn’t have been because he’d watched the man walk away and that isn’t something he would have missed. He shakes his head, perplexed and with anger rising again over what the hell had happened on that jet and how it could have been so seemingly one-sided. He’d seen video of victims of Empulcoitus in the past, and once Clint and Rogers were exposed, he’d dug up everything he could on it; read every word and re-watched every minute of tape. It had made him sick - all of it - but one thing that was consistent in everything he read and saw was that because of the bond created in their brains, the sexual desire and activity was reciprocal – always. Phil cannot wrap his mind around how this particular event could possibly have been one-sided. And his desire to punch Rogers turns into a more sinister desire to do much worse. Clint sways noticeably, and more than anything Phil wants to step close and help support him since it’s clear that he’s barely doing it on his own. But after his mistake a moment ago, the ‘stay away’ radiating off of Clint couldn’t be more clear unless he had an actual sign on him. Instead Phil watches him closely for any sign that portends that collapse is imminent. Phil’s ready to catch him if necessary, Clint’s feelings about that be damned. After the seemingly interminable descent down to the medical level, Dr. Smolser is there alone when the doors open. Phil had hand-picked the doctor for his top-secret clearance, his reputation for discretion, and the fact that there’s something about him that Clint must like because he’s generally cooperative when Smolser’s his treating physician. Phil is relieved when Clint goes without protest, even though he’d indicated that he’d planned to; it can be hard to predict how Clint will react to Medical until he’s actually there. Smolser eases him away - one hand gently gripping Clint’s upper arm to support him – and Phil feels a surge of irrational jealously, wanting to be the one with his hands on Clint, but knowing that his assistance is unwelcome. Clint’s painful movement has Phil’s eyes angrily scanning the hallway for Rogers, but a minute later, he shakes himself out of his murderous thoughts and walks down the corridor to the bank of chairs and sits down to wait. Clint isn’t sure how he musters the fortitude to make it all the way to Medical without assistance, except maybe for the fact that there’s nothing like the sheer power of will. He’s endlessly thankful that Coulson has enough authority to completely clear the deck and the route to Medical, and even more grateful that he knows Clint well enough that he doesn’t try to help him or talk to him, or make any effort to come into the exam room with him. He also says a silent thanks to Phil when he sees that it’s Dr. Smolser waiting there to treat him because he’s sure that is Phil’s doing, as well. Smolser is good; no-nonsense and discreet, doesn't treat him like he's fragile, and he seems to understand Clint so he only pushes when it’s absolutely necessary. Clint makes a move to get onto the exam table but the doctor stops him. “Wait,” he puts his hand up but doesn’t touch Clint. “Can you get your vest off on your own?” Clint grunts his acknowledgment and Smolser nods. “Do that, please.” This part isn’t too difficult. All of his muscles are strained and sore but the skin on his torso isn’t horribly abraded, and by comparison to the lower half of his body, it’s nothing, so getting that piece of his uniform off is fairly easy. When he reaches for his pants, Smolser stops him. “No, don’t. I’d like to get some fluids and pain relief in you before we try to get those off. Lie down and we’ll get that going,” Smolser says with a complete lack of judgment or expression in his voice, and without making any effort to help him. There’s a reason why he’s Clint’s favorite doctor. He manages to lie back on the exam table; again, through sheer power of will. Smolser inserts the port into the back of his hand himself since there are no nurses or other medical staff present, and seconds after he opens the IV line, Clint feels almost instantaneously better. “What’s in there?” Clint asks, curious. He blinks his eyes slowly and lets out a long breath of relief. “Fentanyl,” Smolser answers as he eyes Clint’s Kevlar. “Muscle relaxers, broad spectrum-antibiotics,” he adds, then spends several long minutes perfunctorily, but gently, cleaning the exposed skin of Clint’s body. He does the best he can to wipe off the sweat, come, and blood that’s there, and cut through the layer of greasy Vaseline that seems to be all over his body. When he’s done what he can, Smolser cleans and disinfects the minor open cuts and less-abraded skin. It stings like hell, but with the fentanyl, it’s nothing Clint can’t handle. Once that’s done, with the pain killers fully engaged, he pauses, and Clint sees the doctor eyeing his pants again with consideration. Clint wraps both arms over his face. “Just cut ‘em off, Doc,” he says. “’Cause the only way you’re going to pull those back off of me is if I’m unconscious.” He hears Smolser hum in agreement and then leave the room. Clint floats on the drugs and he must drift off there for a few minutes because the next thing he knows, he can feel the doctor gently cutting at his uniform. It takes a long time – the Kevlar is difficult to cut since it’s made to withstand tearing or penetration - and Clint has no idea what he’s using to saw through the material, but he’s being incredibly careful. As soon as the pants are taken care of, Smolser moves on to his underarmour, making much easier work of it. He hears the doctor give a low whistle of sympathetic surprise. From anyone else on the medical staff, Clint would be tensing and angry, but he knows Smolser well enough to know his reaction is clinical and non-judgmental. “Any idea how long you were active?” he asks mildly. Clint manages an almost-humorous laugh. “I have no idea. I gave out after maybe 24 hours. Rogers…” he trails off, not having an answer. Smolser doesn’t respond. “Bet you’ve never seen anything quite like this, have you, Doc?” he asks, trying for conversational to normalize the situation and remove some of the inherent awkwardness. “No, I haven’t,” he admits evenly. “How’s the pain relief? Do you need more?” The pain has mostly leveled into just a mild burning sensation and dull throbs. It still hurts, but Clint knows that any more of the fentanyl will probably put him out, and while he’s really looking forward to that, he doesn’t want it until the treatment is over and he knows all there is to know about his condition. “No, I’m good,” Clint sighs, his arms still covering his face and eyes. “Thanks,” he adds after a few seconds. Smolser gives another small hum and gets to work. The doctor talks him through his observations and the treatment he’s giving, knowing Clint well enough to know that it’s what he needs from the medical staff. The situation is about what Clint expects. Smolser tells him that there are no significant rips in his anus (which he already assumed by the absence of anything more than pink tinges in the come he’s been excreting for the last several hours) but that there are a lot of small fissures and he’s likely going to be in some discomfort for quite a while. Smolser tells him that there are also a lot of abrasions inside his rectum, but thankfully, there are few nerve endings there, so it’s not quite as painful. The only treatment for any of that is an antibiotic ointment and stool softeners, and to keep to a high fiber diet until the discomfort disappears, but Clint’s been planning on a liquid diet for the foreseeable future anyway. He curses inwardly, thinking about the protein bars he’d shoveled into his mouth earlier. His prostate is also apparently abraded and overstimulated to the point of numbness at the moment. Smolser warns him that he may experience some discomfort in the coming days, but as he’s never seen anything quite like it, he can’t really predict what might happen. Great. His penis and scrotum also obviously need treatment. His genitalia are red and grossly swollen, abraded and on fire from the chafing of more than 20 hours of non-stop sex. There’s not much to do for how badly irritated the skin is except give him diaper rash ointment and use it liberally. And Smolser tells him he should abstain from sex for a couple of weeks, at least, but to let pain be his guide in that regard. Clint laughs mirthlessly because he honestly feels like he never wants to have sex again, so he doesn’t think that’s going to be a big problem. He doesn’t even let himself speculate about how Coulson might feel about sex with him after this. Along with myriad scratches, he’s got bruises all over his body, most of them obviously from fingertips or hands, layered on top of each other and telling a clear and vivid story of Rogers’ desperation and how he’d manhandled Clint. There’s not much that can be done about them, but Smolser applies some topical ointment to the largest of the scratches and gently applies Arnica to the bruising, though admits to Clint that its usefulness is negligible. When he’s done smearing a thick layer of medicated barrier cream all over the abraded skin from Clint’s knees to his belly, Smolser adds more muscle relaxers and pain killers to the IV, and then wheels him from the treatment room to a standard observation room. “Can you shift over on your own?” the doctor asks him, lining the two beds up next to each other with the rails down. “Uh,” Clint answers, mostly incoherent from the cocktail of drugs on top of his exhaustion. Clint sees the corners of Smolser’s mouth quirk upward. “I’m going to take that as a ‘no’,” he says and steps in to help ease Clint onto the clean bed. Once situated, he lightly drapes the softest cotton sheet available over Clint’s naked body, then leaves him to sleep. Two hours later, Phil is startled out of his brooding to see Steve Rogers standing in front of him, apparently freshly showered and in civilian clothes. He looks as uncomfortable in his skin as Phil has ever seen him – and Phil saw the man shortly after he’d found himself surprised to wake up in the 21st century. A fresh fire of anger kindles in Phil’s chest at Rogers fully-recuperated appearance before he can tamp it down. Phil’s rational enough to know that there’s got to be more to the story than the state of their respective uniforms would attest, and enough of a professional to be able to separate out the personal here. Or try to, anyway. “Captain,” Phil acknowledges tiredly as Rogers sits. “You’ve been cleared, I assume?” “Yes, Sir. They took a lot of blood to analyze, but the serum did what it does and I’m fine.” Phil nods. “Good.” He really is relieved. Nobody wants Rogers out of commission. “I, uh, I assume we’ll need to debrief?” he asks, clearly uncomfortable with the idea but facing the necessity like the soldier he is. He’s tempted to have Rogers debrief him right here and now, so he can find out what the hell had happened out there, but that could take a while. He’s hoping that Dr. Smolser will be out to give him some news soon, and he doesn’t really want Rogers here when he does. He’s also not sure that he should be the one to do it since there’s no way he’ll be able to remain objective. Phil sighs. “Yes. Agent Hill will debrief you, but it can wait a bit.” “So… Agent Hill knows?” Rogers asks and Phil sees his face flush bright red. “Only Fury, Hill and I, and two of our neuroscientists are in the loop regarding this incident. And now the medical team, of course.” “Right,” Rogers answers stiffly. “Go get some rest, Captain. The debrief can wait until tomorrow.” But Rogers doesn’t leave and Phil turns to look at him a moment later. “Is he going to be okay?” Rogers asks, his guilt radiating off of him. Phil sits up straighter and clears his throat. “I haven’t heard anything yet.” “Do you mind if I stay and wait with you?” Phil really, really doesn’t think he has it in him to sit here with Rogers and wait for word on how badly the man had brutalized his partner – intentional or not. “Go get some rest,” Phil says again, gently, but making it clear that it’s an order and not a suggestion. “I’ll send word once we know something.” Rogers hesitates and has that stubborn look in his eye but Phil returns it measure for measure; he’ll directly order Rogers away if he has to. After a moment, Rogers relents and stands. “I’ll coordinate with Agent Hill,” he says. “Thank you, Captain,” Phil answers, taking care to ensure his significant relief isn’t noticeable. Rogers quickly dismisses himself and is gone 15 seconds later. Phil tries to feel bad about it, but he doesn’t. A half-hour later, Dr. Smolser finds him and runs through the litany of Clint’s injuries and what his recovery is going to look like. Phil’s pretty sure he doesn’t react visibly, even though every word is tearing his insides to shreds. But Smolser speaks gently and looks at him with such compassion that Phil starts to think that his and Clint’s relationship might not be that well-kept of a secret. Phil cocks his head at the doctor curiously. Smolser notices the look and gives Phil a small sympathetic smile. “I’ve had the opportunity to observe the two of you here in Medical on more than one occasion,” he says. “Sometimes emotions run high and we do things unconsciously.” Phil furrows his brow, a little perplexed. “He kissed you after he arrived that time you were burned. I don’t think either of you really even registered that he’d done it,” he shrugs. “Ah,” Phil acknowledges, and tries to remember Clint doing that but can’t. He remembers the incident – their comms had all gone down and Clint apparently had no idea what Phil’s status was until he’d arrived at Medical himself to be treated for smoke inhalation. He remembers both of their relief at seeing each other but doesn’t actually recall Clint publicly kissing him. But he does remember that Smolser was their treating physician and if he’d seen it, he’d clearly kept it to himself. Phil makes a note to himself to do whatever necessary to ensure that this man stays on SHIELD’s payroll. “I’ll take you back to see him now if you’d like.” “Yes, please. “Be forewarned. He’s not likely to wake for quite some time. Many hours, I should think. His body is exhausted and he’s on some strong pain medication.” Phil’s throat feels a little tight so he just nods before Smolser pushes open the door for him and then disappears down the hall. As expected, Clint’s asleep, or unconscious, and he looks like hell. Emboldened by Smolser’s words, Phil touches Clint’s hand, knowing he won’t wake, and strokes his fingers down Clint’s, letting them linger for a few moments. Then Phil sits, dozing occasionally, waiting for Clint to wake. Eventually, several hours later, during which Clint never stirs, he can’t ignore Fury’s increasingly insistent texts and phone messages any longer and he sits up out of his slouch and sighs. Regretfully, he still has a job to do. He taps out a response text to Fury and sighs again when he gets an immediate response demanding his return to the office. Marcus knows about him and Clint, and Phil’s pretty sure he understands how this is tearing Phil up; he’s not so much of an asshole that he’d be this insistent unless it was truly important. So, reluctantly, Phil stands to leave, but not before placing a small, gentle kiss on Clint’s forehead and whispering a quiet “I love you,” in Clint’s ear. When Clint wakes, what he can only surmise is many hours later, he is both relieved and disappointed not to see Phil sitting next to his bed. Truthfully, the disappointment is the stronger emotion. As much as he doesn’t like to admit it, Phil’s steady presence when Clint wakes in Medical, while hard to accept, has always been reassuring. But while he is disappointed, his relief at not having to face Phil is also pretty strong. On the quinjet, he had fallen asleep much more readily than he’d expected, and then woken to find Captain America sitting next to him. He had really hoped for more time to get his shit together and come to grips with what he’d done to the man before he had to face him again, but Clint’s never been particularly lucky, so, no surprise there. He’d glanced at Rogers and knew immediately that Rogers probably had his cowl pulled up over his head because his hair was covered in Clint’s come and he had felt his face heat at the memory of his unnaturally prolonged orgasms that had covered the other man in layers of his semen. Once they’d landed, Clint didn’t have a clue what to say to Coulson. Anger had clearly been radiating off of the man, and Clint didn’t blame him, considering what he’d done to Phil’s hero. He’d heard the low, murmuring between Coulson and Rogers outside the quinjet; maybe Rogers had pulled the cowl off his head for Phil to see the evidence of what Clint had done to him. It still hurt, though, Phil’s anger and that shocked, choked-off sound he’d made when he’d seen the full extent of the situation in the elevator. Given that Coulson was better at playing his hand close to the chest than anyone else Clint knew, that small noise had gigantic meaning. He had to admit that he wasn’t 100% sure what it had meant, but there was that small part of him couldn’t help but wonder if Phil was reacting to the fact that Clint had let Rogers fuck him when he’d never allowed Phil to do the same. Clint lies in the hospital bed and fights his demons and the downward spiral of his thoughts. He’s self-aware enough to recognizes his own self-worth issues and he’s working on them, but lessons learned early in life are hard to unlearn and he can’t stop the niggling thought that Phil’s present absence has to do with him not wanting to be with Clint right now. Clint certainly wouldn’t blame him. Clint sighs. Probably Phil had to go back to work. Possibly he can’t stand the idea of being near Clint. He’s startled out of his brooding thoughts when the door opens but is relieved to see it’s Smolser, who enters the room carrying a white paper bag in one hand and a small duffle in the other. “Topical ointment, antibiotic ointment, antibiotic pills, muscle relaxers and Vicodin,” he explains, setting the paper bag on the table. He sets the duffle, obviously containing clothing, on the bed next to him. “I’d like you to come back in a few days and let me take another look. Or I could come to you if you let me know where you are,” he hedges. “And in the meantime, the best I can do is say use the ointment liberally and limit any additional friction to the area, so maybe just stay in bed for a while. And don’t shy away from the Vicodin.” Clint nods. “Yeah, okay, Doc,” he says as he gingerly shifts to hang his legs over the side of the bed and unzips the duffle. “He was here up until a couple hours ago. He didn’t want to leave,” Smolser tells him, and Clint freezes for a split second before digging into the bag, wondering if the man can read his thoughts or if he’d maybe talked in his sleep. “He asked me to let him know when you woke up.” Clint looks up at the doctor and sighs deeply before returning to his rummaging. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.” “I figured that’s what you’d say,” he pauses and scrutinizes Clint. “He’s not your enemy here, you know. No one is.” Clint gives him an uninspired smirk. “You moonlighting for Psych these days, Doc?” Smolser gives him a mild smile. “Take care of yourself, Agent. And come back and see me in a few days. In the meantime, call me anytime if you need anything.” “Yeah, thanks, Doc,” he answers absently as the other man retreats out the door. Officially, Clint lives at the Tower, but as far as the rest of the Avengers know, he stays at his small quarters at SHIELD more than half the time. In fact, while he does keep a studio here, most of the time that he’s not at the Tower, he’s at Phil’s apartment. There’s no way he’s going to Phil’s right now, though, so when he finally manages to get himself dressed, he takes his bag of ointments and pills and limps up to his SHIELD quarters. The copious drugs in his system mean it only feels like rough sandpaper grating away at his skin, rather than shards of glass, so that’s something. Without hesitating, he walks to the bathroom, strips off his clothes as delicately but as quickly as possible, and climbs into the shower, turning it up to as hot as he can stand – nearly scalding. It’s not that he feels like he was raped, exactly - though there is definitely an unease about the whole thing that he doesn’t want to examine too closely – it’s just that he still feels physically dirty and gross. Even though Smolser did a pretty thorough job of cleaning him up, he feels like he’s still coated with a disgusting mixture of residues that makes him nauseous to think about and that he feels a desperate need to scrub off. He ignores the agonizing throb of his body, using every bit of energy he has to stand there for as long as he can, soaping his whole body down, barely able to touch the sensitive skin below his waist. And then he does it a few more times for good measure. When Clint stumbles out of the shower, he assiduously avoids looking in the mirror, reapplies the ointments to all the various parts of his aching body and takes two Vicodin. Then remembering Smolser’s advice, swallows one more for good measure before he eases his battered body into his bed. He’s asleep within seconds. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Phil knocks softly on the door to Clint’s SHIELD quarters. It’s the first place he’s looked and he’s 99% sure Clint is in there. He wouldn’t go back to the Tower – not looking like he does, because he wouldn’t want anyone asking questions. He wouldn’t go to Phil’s place because if he intended to go there, he would have called Phil when he woke up. Phil’s trying not to think too hard about the fact that he didn’t. It’s possible that he went to a hotel, but given the condition Clint was in, he likely went for the closest, safe, horizontal surface. When he gets no response, he uses his ID to swipe himself in. Sure enough, Clint is in his bed, looking as much dead as asleep. Phil’s heart skips a beat but he tries not to overreact and instead he stares hard, waiting for the telltale movement of the white sheet that will let him know that Clint is still breathing. It takes far too long, but eventually the slow rise and fall of Clint’s chest reassures him that Clint’s lungs are still working. He lets out the breath he was holding and steps over to the small efficiency kitchen on his right to quietly unload the supplies he’s carrying. There’s a medicine bottle on the counter – Vicodin – and next to it, a tube of something he doesn’t recognize lying on top of a white paper bag. Inside the bag he finds various other pill bottles and ointments. He looks closely at each – at what they are and their instructions for use – lining them up as he does. He looks at his watch and wonders how long it’s been since Clint had a dose of the things that were in the bag. Too long, probably. He considers waking Clint to have him take the meds but knows that’s not likely to be well-received for a variety of reasons, so instead, he grabs a chair from the small table and moves it next to Clint’s bed; close enough that he can hear him breathing, but not too close to make Clint skittish when he wakes up. Clint is lying on his side with the sheet pulled up to his shoulders, bottom arm wrapped around his head on the pillow, the other bent with his fist curled in front of his face. It’s a familiar sight but Phil’s never known if the defensive-looking position was intentional, sub-conscious, or just… comfortable. There are bruises on Clint’s arms, black and purple, most ranging from nickel-sized (just about the size of Rogers’ fingertips, Phil thinks ruefully) to silver dollar. But there are a few larger ones. And of course, there are the red marks visible on his exposed trapezius area and neck. Phil breaths out an angry breath and looks away as a distant, unpleasant memory comes back to him. One of the first times he and Clint had slept together, he’d slid down Clint’s body, nuzzling and licking and kissing at the cut line between Clint’s hip and his groin before he applied a little bit of suction. He hadn’t really meant anything by it, and it’s not like he would have done it in a visible place – they weren’t teenagers, for God’s sake - he was just caught up in the pleasure of it and it felt really good to pull Clint’s skin to him that way. But Clint had jerked, flipping Phil hard onto his back before scrambling to sit up. “Don’t!” Clint had gritted out. But when he registered Phil’s shocked and worried expression, he relaxed considerably and then pinked-up, looking ashamed. “Sorry. Just… please don’t do that. I... I’m not a fan.” Phil rolled onto his side and propped himself up, maintaining as casual and non-threatening a position as possible. “It’s fine, Clint. I’m sorry, I should have asked.” Somehow he managed to make the words come out calm, even though what he was really thinking about was finding and strangling whoever had caused that reaction in Clint. Clint had wiped a hand down his face, clearly embarrassed now. He flopped back onto the bed next to Phil again. “Guess I ruined the moment,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling. “Well, that depends,” Phil said slowly, placing his hand lightly on Clint’s chest. “It’s not ruined for me, so if you want, I still want to suck your cock. But if the moment’s gone for you, I understand.” Clint had turned his head quickly, a surprised smile creeping onto his face. “Well, if you want to…” The next morning, Phil had gone down to the paper-files vault, checked-in his phone and computer, allowed for a light pat-down to ensure he wasn’t carrying anything else that could copy or record any of the information held within, and pulled out Clint’s Asset Recruitment File, looking at it for the second time in ten years. The first time he had read the file, Clint was just one of many potential assets that SHIELD was considering and Phil didn’t pay much attention to the details, beyond the fact that he preferred an unusual weapon. The guy had passed his physical and psych evals, and the background check came back clean. Or, clean enough, anyway. That was all that mattered. Phil had put it on the ‘Yes’ pile and moved on to the next. This time, he gave it more consideration. He leafed through the pages looking for the interview he thought he remembered it contained. Probably the only reason he even remembered it at all was because it was an interview with a guy who had trained their bow-wielding potential asset to use a knife, and Phil had just that day seen Barton throw a knife with more precision than he’d ever seen anyone do before. There it was. Jacques Duquesne talking about how he made sure everyone knew that the skinny marksman was his and not to mess with him. The file was thick and when he’d quickly skimmed through it the first time, Phil honestly hadn’t thought much about it – had somehow read it to mean that Clint was under his protection; the Swordsman was helping out a kid on his own, with no one else to look out for him except a brother who was only a couple years older himself. But as he studied the words in the vault that day he could hear, not the vaguely protective words he’d interpreted the first time, but instead the sinister, bragging tone of it. And it made Phil sick. “I made sure everyone knew not to mess with the kid, you know? No one else messes with what’s yours when you leave your mark.” How had he not understood Duquesne’s meaning the first time he’d read it? Phil cursed himself for his carelessness and then scanned his mental database to try to recall if he’d ever put Clint in a situation that might have triggered him the way he had the night before. He couldn’t think of any, but that didn’t mean much. Clint was so hung up on not tipping his hand or showing any weakness that Phil was pretty sure he would have missed it anyway – especially in those earlier years when they didn’t know each other as well. He closed the folder with the sad realization that it certainly shed light on why Clint had gone rogue to protect Natasha. He cursed himself again for his idiotic blindness; he should have seen that there was more to it when Clint had gone so far out on a limb for someone he’d never met, after only reading her file. Phil had never attached his mouth to Clint in that way again, and then he’d spent the next few months picking his way through the minefield of Clint’s past, working out what was okay and what wasn’t. It was entirely worth the effort because he was surprised to find there wasn’t a single person in the world he’d ever felt so strongly about as Clint Barton, and he’d be damned if he was ever going to do something that might trigger Clint like that again. Not intentionally. Phil pulls himself out of his memories and his chest tightens at the sight of the red ring of ecchymosis on Clint’s neck. How long will it take that to disappear? Given how dark they are, a couple of weeks, at least – maybe more - before the marks will fade to green then a sickly yellow and then finally vanish altogether. Too long. He won’t want anyone to see him in the meantime. The back of Phil’s brain starts planning; he’ll need to invent a plausible reason for Clint to be gone from the Tower for the next few weeks. Faking up a mission won’t be hard. He watches Clint breathe. How had Clint reacted in the moment? Had he made the same connections, felt the same visceral discomfort, but been unable to get Rogers to stop? It’s hard to imagine those things went unnoticed on Clint’s part, but while in the throes of everything, it’s possible. Given what they know about Empulcoitus and its effects on the brain, it’s completely within the realm of possibility that their standard thought processes were offline. It would be a small blessing if that were the case, but he can’t stop his anger toward Rogers from spiking again as he envisions the man – who easily has 30 pounds on Clint and super-strength to boot – holding down a struggling Clint and marking him. Phil quickly shakes the disturbing image away and returns the blame where it belongs - to himself, because he knows that ultimately, he’s the one that sent them into that base with bad intel. But Phil’s a pragmatist if nothing else, and he knows there’s nothing to be done about that now; it’s over and done with and the only thing to do is move on and try to fix things as best he can. Phil pulls out his laptop and settles in to wait for Clint to wake up, because then, maybe he can do something to be helpful. Clint can tell someone is sitting next to his bed when he wakes up but he doesn’t open his eyes. It’s dark in the room, but there’s a dim light coming from nearby. “I outed you to Captain America,” he mumbles, gingerly rolling onto his back and wrapping his arms over his eyes. He knows it’s a childish ploy not to look at Phil, but he doesn’t give a shit. “No, that’s not quite right. I outed myself to Captain America and he figured out it was you on his own,” he says. “Sorry,” he adds a moment later. There is a long, silent pause where Clint imagines Phil’s anger must be ramping up. “You can’t actually believe I would care about that?” Phil says in that very controlled way that tells Clint he’s definitely missed the mark. What he hears is concern and sadness. “He’s your…” ‘hero’ Clint almost says, “… colleague. We agreed it was better to keep it quiet.” Another pause. “It was only a matter of time before they all figure it out,” Phil sighs, and without looking, Clint knows he’s taken off his glasses and is rubbing his eyes. “We work too closely with them and they’re not stupid people. Sooner or later they were going to wonder why the hell you’re apparently single and put it together that you spend an inordinate amount of time with me. Stark’s half-way there already. It’s pure pig-headedness on his part that’s kept him for realizing it.” Clint thinks about the sidelong glances that Tony gives him sometimes, like he’s trying to puzzle something out. Phil’s probably right about him. “Might be a problem.” “I don’t think it will be,” Phil says, sounding exhausted. "But I don't care." Maybe. Stark will likely be fine with it. Hell, the guy’s probably had his own fair share of men in his bed. And Banner doesn’t seem the type to care. But he has no idea about Asgardian views on sexuality and then there’s the way Thor practically reeks of testosterone when he even talks about Jane… so that’s a toss-up. But Clint’s still not sure that Rogers isn’t going to be a problem. While he did seem more surprised than bothered when he’d figured things out, Clint wasn’t going to hold him to that after what Clint had done to him. He makes a noncommittal noise and changes the subject. “I asked Smolser not to notify you.” “He didn’t. You were already gone once I was able to break away from the office again.” Phil’s voice trails across the room and then there’s activity in the small kitchen. “It was obvious you’d come here.” Phil’s willful disregard of Clint’s point is aggravating. “I don’t remember inviting you in.” The sound of a spoon clinking in a glass gets closer a few seconds later. “Can you sit up? You’re behind on your medications.” He’s got that tone that he gets when Clint’s behaving like a petulant child and he’s choosing to ignore it. Clint surrenders and unwraps his arms, peering over. Phil has all of his medicine bottles and ointments lined up on the bedside table and he’s holding a glass that presumably contains their standard post-medical cocktail of orange juice (for vitamins, nutrients and natural sugars) and keifer (for the protein, probiotics, and to get something in his gut to take the antibiotics and pain meds). Clint sighs and carefully pushes himself up into a delicate half-sitting position, making a heroic effort not to let it show on his face just how much agony the small movement causes him. As he rests back on his hips and leans against the wall, the sheet slips down his body, exposing his chest. Phil hands him the glass then turns slightly to grab the medicine bottles, his eyes sweeping casually over Clint’s chest where the sheet has slid down to his waist. He’s very good – Clint has to admit, not that he would expect anything different – Phil’s eyes don’t linger and he doesn’t react. Nothing to see here, folks. But he’s probably taken in every single mottled, red and purple bruise in that single glance. Phil’s hand hesitates above his. “One or two?” “Three?” Clint puts out his hand. Phil gives him a chastising look mixed with concern and drops two Vicodin into his hand along with the antibiotic and muscle relaxer. “Um, would you get me a shirt,” Clint asks reluctantly – not because he doesn’t want one, but because he hates that he has to ask Phil to get it for him. But he doesn't want Phil to have to continue to look at the evidence of what he and Rogers did and there’s no way in hell he’s going to get up and get one himself. He’s naked under the sheet and he does not want Phil to ever see what’s under there. Not to mention that his skin feels like it’s been scorched off, so walking over to get it himself is not high on his list of fun things to do. Phil just hums softly and goes to fetch one from the drawer. He comes back with his own old green-and-yellow, Madison Muskies t-shirt that has the ridiculous fierce-looking fish holding a baseball bat. Phil had never been able to come up with an explanation as to why he had a t-shirt from a defunct minor league baseball team from a state he’s rarely been to, but it was obvious that he loved it since it was thin and worn from myriad washings. Clint had appropriated it from him ages ago, mostly because he loved the soft way Phil’s eyes had crinkled the first time – and every time – that Clint had worn it. He doesn’t know if Phil grabbed it intentionally or if it was just on the top of the pile. He hopes it's the former as Phil hands it to him with no comment but a ghost of that familiar expression. Clint drinks half the mixture that Phil gave him, pops all four pills into his mouth and then drains the glass. “Thanks,” he says, then sets it down with a slightly shaky hand and slips the shirt over his head, trying not to grimace at the sharp pain of his abused muscles. Phil just nods and sits back down in the chair, crossing his legs. He’s a bit of a mess. His suit is far from pristine and he looks like he hasn’t had much sleep in a very long time, and knowing Phil, he hasn’t. Clint yawns and looks at the clock. It’s 9:00 pm. He eases himself back down into a laying position and doesn’t say anything for a while. He’s still exhausted and add the Vicodin to that, he’s probably going to be back asleep soon. “Are you planning to sit there all night?” Clint asks. “I’d like to stay,” Phil hedges. “If you sit in that chair staring at me all night you’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.” “I’ve survived worse.” Clint offers a doped-up snort in agreement and his eyelids weigh heavily. And it’s probably the Vicodin that’s making him stupid, but he takes a chance. “Just… you can get on the bed if you want,” he slurs quietly, but closes his eyes in case Phil’s reaction isn’t what he’s hoping it will be, then quickly slides back into blessed unconsciousness. There’s a familiar weight across his middle when he wakes. It’s light out, so if that didn’t clue him into the fact that he’s slept for several more hours, the all-encompassing burning pain makes it clear that the last dose of Vicodin wore off some time ago. It says something about how exhausted he was – or possibly about his skill at ignoring pain for ridiculous amounts of time – that the discomfort didn’t wake him sooner. When he opens his eyes, he sees the chair Phil was sitting in now holds Phil’s jacket and tie; his shoes are tucked neatly beneath. Phil is lying behind him, curled close but not touching him except for the arm draped loosely over Clint’s side. He’s stirring too and Clint’s not sure which one of them woke first. Neither of them says anything for what feels like an eternity. Clint has no idea what to say so he’s not anxious to leap into the fray. Phil… he can imagine that Phil has no idea what to say to him either, but, oddly, he’s gently stroking his thumb over Clint’s rib. It feels so goddamned good to have Phil touching him that Clint doesn’t even care that it happens to be rubbing against one of the larger bruises on his chest and he can feel the added small sparks of pain. “Come back to mine?” Phil asks quietly. Clint closes his eyes again. “You can’t possibly want me there.” Yeah, Clint’s working on his mountain of issues, but he hasn’t quite summited yet. Phil makes a wordless frustrated noise. “And you can’t possibly be that stupid. Get your head out of your ass, Agent,” he answers, but there’s no heat behind the words. Just mild exasperation with that frustrated edge, accompanied by a possessive tightening of his arm. It hurts even more and Clint still doesn’t say anything. The reflexive ‘no’ is forming on his lips, but before he can get it out, Phil rushes to continue. “You know it’s much more comfortable there. You’re not going to want to go out anywhere for a while and you’ll go stir-crazy in this tiny place. I’ve got supplies and the bodega can deliver whatever else you might want with a phone call, but the delivery guys can’t get in here. And don’t forget the television. Netflix and HBO,” he reminds Clint tantalizingly and then pauses. “But mostly I want you there. It’s where you belong,” Phil says more quietly and then goes completely still. The ‘no’ is still on the tip of his tongue but Clint hesitates. He has no idea how Phil can stand the sight of him, much less want him to go back home with him; only a day or so ago he’d been practically vibrating with anger over what had happened. But Phil’s inexplicable affection for him has always been a bit of a mystery to Clint, and if he’s somehow willing to forgive Clint for what he’s done – or at least maybe ignore it – Clint supposes he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He learned early in life that that was a foolhardy thing to do because they don’t come around very often – at least, not for him. And he would be more comfortable. “Your bed is a million times better than this shitty thing,” Clint acknowledges, and he can feel the tension melt out of Phil instantaneously. Huh. “Yes,” Phil says and a soft kiss is pressed to the nape of Clint’s neck. “It is.” “I don’t need you to take care of me,” Clint tells him before he can stop himself. There’s an exasperated huff of breath on his head as Phil shifts a little higher; this one is infused with more affection than frustration. “Believe me, I’m well aware,” Phil says ruefully. “You’re like a damned cat put in water, you know that? I want to take care of you, Clint. Are you ever going to accept that and just let me?” Clint squirms a little, not entirely comfortable with the idea of it, but he finds he has to turn his face further into the pillow to hide a creeping smile. Steve slips quietly into the common kitchen at the Tower, hopeful that no one else will be around at the early hour. He and Barton are the only morning people in the Tower, and Barton's not around, so he figures he’s momentarily safe. Unfortunately, Tony appears out of nowhere seconds later. Damn it, Jarvis. “Look what the cat dragged in. Thought you’d be back two days ago,” he says casually but Steve can see Tony’s assessing gaze sweep over him. Stark’s disheveled and looks like he’s been awake for a couple days. He moves directly over to the coffeemaker and pours obscene amounts of coffee grounds into it before turning back around. “We were starting to think you and Barton ran off together.” He ignores Tony’s comment and tries not to think about how close to home that hit (Barton’s cock, erect and dripping, nudges Steve’s chin). “Had some problems with the jet. Comms were down for a while,” he says, sticking his head into the refrigerator so he doesn’t have to lie to Tony’s face. The refrigerator is pushed briskly shut and Steve jerks upright so his face doesn’t get slammed in the door. “What kind of problems?” “I’m not sure. Barton’s the mechanic. It took him a little while but he fixed it,” he says and pointedly looks at the hand that Stark is using to hold the refrigerator shut. Tony raises an eyebrow at him and then holds up his hand in a surrendering gesture. Steve goes back to rooting around in the refrigerator, not really even thinking about what he’s doing. “So, where’s Robin Hood?” Tony asks lightly, back to fiddling with the coffee machine. Tony plays at nonchalance, but Steve knows there’s underlying concern. They’ve all been feeling this ‘team’ thing out between them since Loki’s attack, growing closer in different ways but unsure of the boundaries; all of them have barriers that none of the others has quite penetrated yet. But they’re becoming more than teammates and more like friends every day. And by unspoken agreement, they’re all particularly protective of Hawkeye, understanding just how vulnerable their resident archer is: no enhancements; frequently standing in the open to cover them from on high; and refusing additional protection because the bulk might impede his movement or bow-action. Stark spends an inordinate amount of time working on tech for all of them, but he spends the most time on Barton's gear. Steve shakes himself out of his thoughts to see Tony eyeing him closely. What does he say to that? He’s in medical? If Steve tells the team that, they’ll want to go see him, and he’s pretty sure that that’s the last thing Barton would want. “Fury sent him back out. I’m not sure where,” Steve lies, hoping to put Tony off the scent. It sits uneasily with him that on top of what he did to Barton, now he’s lying to Tony to cover it up. Guilt gnaws at him and his stomach roils. Tony narrows his eyes. “Already? Aren’t they supposed to give, like, some R&R between gigs?” “It doesn’t really work like that, Tony,” Steve says, opening a take-out container and sniffing. Some kind of Thai noodles. Spicy. Tony narrows his eye at him. “Why do I feel like there’s more to this story?” Steve pops the container in the microwave and turns around to lean against the counter while the food heats. “Because you're suspicious by nature?” He crosses his arms and returns Tony’s stare. He smiles mildly as Tony watches him carefully. The food pops and crackles behind him. “I was going to eat that,” Tony says after a moment. When the microwave beeps, Steve opens it and grabs the noodles. “You snooze you lose,” he says, brushing past Tony and heading out of the room. “Seriously? You snooze you lose? What are you, like, 90?” Tony yells after him. Steve cannot get out of there fast enough. Disconcerting images chase him to his apartment (Barton, slumped, seemingly unconscious in the pilot’s seat; pale, arms bruised, red marks circling his neck) where he finally registers that he just heated up Thai food for breakfast. His stomach roils again and Steve grimaces. He dumps the noodles in the trash, then grabs his gear and heads for the gym; he just needs a little time at the heavy bag. Phil leaves without Clint having to ask to give Clint a half-hour for his meds to kick in, reapply ointment, and carefully dress. He zips up a hoody all the way and lifts the hood over his head. If he keeps his head ducked, hopefully no one will see any of the marks on his neck or the fire-engine-red color of his face beneath his four days of scruff. He’s slathered on a very liberal layer of ointment, then slipped on a pair of soft boxers and the oldest, thinnest sweatpants he could find, but the friction is still excruciating as he moves around the small space. The narcotics make the pain tolerable when he’s not moving, but they can’t do much for how it lights up now with even the slightest movement. When Phil comes back, he’s carrying his briefcase and he goes to the kitchen to gather up the supplies he’d brought earlier and Clint’s medicines. Miraculously, there are very few people in the corridors on their way out, and no one he knows personally, and soon enough, he’s settled in Lola and on their way. Despite Phil’s obvious efforts to drive carefully, every bump in the road and bounce of the car sends shockwaves of pain through Clint, who grits his teeth and tries not to make any sound. Mercifully, Phil keeps his eyes straight ahead. Phil starts to hover a little too closely around him as he gets out of the car moving slowly and deliberately, but Clint cuts a glare at him and he backs off. But thank God Phil’s building has an elevator because there’s no way Clint would have made it up six flights of stairs. It’s cool and bright in the living room when they step in and Clint sags in relief. He always forgets just how small, dark, and sort of depressing his SHIELD quarters are until he goes somewhere else and sees the contrast. Phil inherited the apartment from his great aunt who had moved into the unit on the upper-East Side as a young woman when it was new in the mid-1950s. The austere architecture makes it nothing special to look at on the exterior, but inside, the place is bright and airy because of the curtain walls. It still has all the period finishes, including the turquoise boomerang Formica in the kitchen and pink atomic Formica in the bathroom. And Phil has filled it with mid-century Danish modern furniture that feels so at home on the parquet floors that it seems to grow organically up from it. There are a few things scattered around that clearly don’t conform to the austere aesthetic: one of Clint’s worn go-bags tucked out of the way next to a stool under the kitchen island; his third-favorite bow, leaning in the corner; a pair of battered boots next to the door. But most noticeably, the overstuffed green monster of a couch that Phil bought after finding Clint asleep on it in the consignment shop where they’d been looking for another small dresser to hold some of Clint’s things. “Couch or bed?” Phil asks him, and it’s so normal, the way he says it, that Clint doesn’t even protest when Phil unzips his hoody and slides it off of him, deftly tossing it over one of the hooks by the door. Clint eyes the couch and considers. It is damned comfortable. And HBO. “Couch. For now,” Clint decides without too much difficulty. Phil darts past him and arranges some pillows on the chaise-extension of the couch so Clint can lie propped up a bit and watch the television if he wants, then leaves him alone and disappears into the kitchen. Clint shuffles over to the couch and unceremoniously drops his sweatpants before easing himself down, unable to stop a hiss of pain from escaping. He grabs the thin throw blanket from the back of the couch and drapes it over himself, hiding the red chafed skin visible on his legs and his noticeably swollen junk. A few moments after he’s settled, just as the flames of agony begin to bank into a duller, pounding throb, Phil reappears and Clint quirks an eyebrow up at the four jumbo bags of peas he’s holding. “You know I’m really more of a broccoli fan.” A faint smile twitches at the corner of Phil’s mouth. “Icing it will help.” Smolser had told him that as well, but it was more than Clint could deal with to bother the day before. “I also have oatmeal if you want to take a bath,” Phil continues, “and I could make a turmeric paste if you want to try it.” Clint gapes at Phil. “Um. Turmeric?” he asks, reaching for a bag of peas. “It has antibacterial and anti-inflammatory qualities,” Phil tells him, forming his face into a perfect blank mask when Clint grimaces as he delicately lays the first bag of peas on his groin. “I did some research,” he adds, shrugging. Of course he did. If Clint didn’t love Phil before, he definitely does now. But he did. He definitely did. “Uh, maybe later,” Clint says skeptically, then winces when he adds another bag of peas. At first it’s a toss-up whether the discomfort from the added weight is worth it, but after a minute, he begins to feel distinct relief, or at least frozen numbness. “Thanks.” “Can I get you anything else?” Phil asks as Clint places the last two bags around his lower half. “A protein shake?” Clint shakes his head against the pillows. “Don’t you need to get back to work?” Phil shakes his head in return. “I’ll work from home today,” he says and nods toward the closed office door down the hall. Clint’s eyes dart in that direction and then skitter back. He hasn’t been in there since he’d helped Phil paint the room six months ago. Behind the door, Phil’s office is a shrine to Captain America, and the traitorous part of his brain wonders how long it will be before Phil gets past the part where he’s just glad Clint is alive and moves on to thinking more closely about what Clint had actually done to stay alive. Steve steels himself, already on edge and tense, and knocks. “Come.” “Deputy Director Hill.” “Captain Rogers, take a seat.” Steve closes the door to the small room behind him and sits across from Maria Hill. He tenses when he sees another man step forward from the corner behind him. As the man sits, Hill introduces him as Dr. Warrens, from the Psychological and Therapy Services Department. “Seriously? PTSD? Is that some kind of bad joke?” Steve asks, incredulous and suddenly irritated. Dr. Warrens glances at Hill and clears his throat. “More like a poorly-thought-through bureaucratic decision.” “And it didn’t occur to anyone to change it?” The doctor shifts uncomfortably. “They already had the letterhead printed before anyone put it together.” “No offense, but that doesn’t exactly give me a lot of faith in your services,” Steve carps peevishly. Hill cuts them off. “Captain, this debrief will pertain to the events that took place between September 13 and September 15, 2012. I understand this is sensitive information and want to assure you that it is in no one’s interest that what happened in Canada be made public. This session will be recorded; however, once we are finished here, I will transcribe the recording and then destroy it. The transcription will not be saved – auto-save is turned off on this computer,” she gestures to the laptop sitting next to her on the table, “but a copy will be printed off and then the electronic version of the document will be deleted. A single hard-copy of the document will be kept in our paper-files vault and will only be accessible to three people: Director Fury, myself, as Deputy Director, and Agent Coulson, as your handler.” “And the doctor?” Steve tips his head in the other man’s direction, but keeps his steady gaze on Hill. “Anything said in this room or between the two of you at any future point is subject to doctor/patient privilege and all current medical privacy laws. The same goes for the doctor you saw in Medical.” Steve studies her for a moment and she stares back unwaveringly. He doesn’t have any particular reason to believe or not believe her, so after an uncomfortable silence, he gestures for Hill to continue. “I’m not here to judge you, Captain. Or Hawkeye. It’s important that we collect as much information as possible so that we might avoid this kind of situation happening again in the future.” “I understand.” “Okay. So, from the beginning, if you would.” Steve straightens a bit and looks directly at Hill. “Agent Barton landed the quinjet about a mile from the suspected Hydra compound just before sunrise at 0630 on September 13. When we arrived at the base about ten minutes later, there were no signs of activity. We breached the subterranean structure shortly after. Once inside, we encountered no resistance.” “There was no one there?” she clarifies. “No one,” he confirms. She nods and gestures for him to continue. “We swept the rest of the facility before going to the laboratory. Agent Barton went immediately over to a bank of computers to retrieve the files we were looking for. I searched the lab for any relevant research materials as mission parameters directed. There was a door near Agent Barton that looked like it was maybe a freezer door, and I opened it. A couple of seconds later, we heard a loud hissing noise and a large cloud of gas blew into the room from above us. I’m not sure if my opening the door triggered the gas, if it was something Agent Barton did, or just coincidence.” “How long did the hissing last?” “Less than ten seconds.” “And was the gas visible? Could you smell it?” “No and yes.” “Can you describe the smell?” Steve pauses and thinks. “It had a sweet smell. A little like honey, maybe?” “Okay. Continue. What did you do next?” “We both sort of froze for a couple of seconds and then I started for the door but Agent Barton went back to what he was doing on the computer. I told him we needed to leave but he refused and said he needed another minute, so I set the explosive charges while he finished. We exited the bunker without seeing anyone else and once we were a safe distance away, we blew the charges and destroyed the facility. We made our way back to the jet where we contacted SHIELD immediately.” “You had no immediate reaction to the gas?” “None that we noticed.” “Alright. Go ahead.” Steve tenses and looks at Dr. Warrens, and then back at Hill. “There’s not much more to say. After we informed SHIELD of what happened, Hawkeye plugged the flash drive into the quinjet computer and transmitted the data back to HQ. It took about a half hour for Agent Coulson to dig through the data and ascertain what the gas was.” “Had you been experiencing any symptoms up to this point?” “None,” Steve responds and feels his face pink slightly, remembering how hard he’d been in his uniform as the substance took hold. Hill nods. “How long did it take until you felt the Empulcoitus take effect?” “A couple hours from the time of exposure, approximately.” (Barton, pinned against the wall while Steve ruts uncontrollably) Steve’s face heats more. “And what transpired in that period?” “Well, we talked to Agent Coulson. And then Hawkeye and I talked at length about what was going to happen. He… explained a few things to me. We tried to prepare as best we could.” “Meaning?” Steve clenches his jaw. “We got water and protein bars from the galley. Barton got some petroleum jelly for,” Steve stops and clears his throat, “lubrication. (Tossing the empty container away after scraping the last of the jelly from the jar, then pushing his chafed cock into Barton’s fiery-red, gaping and abused hole) We went to the aft bay and he removed the cameras from the area,” Steve says with a hard look at Hill, still disbelieving that SHIELD would be spying on them. His irritation spikes at Hill’s apparent lack of contrition. “So, it took a couple of hours before you began to feel the effects?” “Yes,” he grits out. “Can you describe the sensation?” He huffs out an annoyed breath. “Well… at first I felt my heartrate pick up. I began to sweat. Eventually, I began to feel…” (horny and desperate, pleading with Barton to let him fuck him) Steve stops, too embarrassed to give details. He glances between the other two. “I’m not really sure why SHIELD would need to know these details.” “Our purpose isn’t gossip, Captain,” Hill tells him. “But this substance is out there and being used as a weapon. Any piece of information could hold the key to preventing it the next time.” (Gasping and pulling out of Barton as he comes, semen rocketing across the other man’s back, more pouring out of Barton’s ass) “No,” Steve says, simply, done cooperating. Hill stares at him and Steve stares back. He can out-stubborn the best of them, so if she’s waiting for him to proceed, she’ll be waiting for a long time. “Captain Rogers…” Hill starts with a slightly threatening tone. Steve pins her with a hard glare and lifts his chin defiantly. “It’s my understanding, Deputy Director, that the KGB left behind extremely detailed files and videos. Surely those would provide you with more information than I could ever supply. If you want more information about the Hydra lab or what we encountered there, I’m happy to answer your questions. But if you want salacious details about the rest of it, you can look elsewhere,” Steve tells her calmly but firmly, then stands up and leaves without a glance back. “Rogers’ debrief,” Maria tells him, dropping the slim file on his desk. Phil looks at it and then back at her with a mildly questioning expression. She shrugs. “He wasn’t very forthcoming. I can’t blame him, really.” Phil tosses his pen onto the desk. “No,” he agrees tiredly, staring at the file. “How did he seem?” Phil asks, raising his glance back up to her. “Okay,” she says. “Not overly cooperative. A little angry,” she adds. He lifts an almost-amused eyebrow. “So, about the same?” Maria nods and gives him a knowing half-grin. Steve Rogers has never been an easy asset to handle, being often stubborn and having a tendency to deviate from mission parameters whenever he sees fit. “Did you get him to talk to Psych?” “He left before we could discuss it. He seemed suspicious of Warrens when I introduced him.” Phil makes a dismissive gesture. “It’s a generational thing.” “Maybe,” Hill concedes. “The ‘PTSD’ thing didn’t help. He picked up on it immediately.” “God! When are they going to change that?” “When they run out of letterhead?” Maria suggests sardonically. Phil huffs. Maria smiles then shifts into a more serious expression. “He should talk to someone. They both should.” The last is said pointedly. “I know.” Maria sighs and hands two more files toward him. “Medical reports. Rogers and Barton.” Phil stares at them but doesn’t reach out to take them from her. After a few seconds, she sets them on his desk. “You’re their handler so I’m keeping you in the loop.” Phil just nods. She’s right, of course. “Read ‘em. Don’t read ‘em. I don’t care.” Phil keeps staring at the files as she turns to leave. She’s at the door before he looks at her again. “Get your boys to Psych, Phil,” Maria tells him. “And while you’re at it, you might want to make an appointment yourself.” Phil stares after her as the door closes, pointedly ignoring her last comment, and instead wondering when she’d picked up Fury’s infuriating habit of referring to his assets as ‘your boys’. Phil eyes the three folders on his desk with trepidation. He doesn’t particularly want to read any of them. He picks up the first thin file: Debrief of Steven Rogers, September 17, 2012. He reads the entire thing in 30 seconds and feels a well of frustration that it doesn't provide any enlightenment as to why their encounter appeared to have been so one-sided. But he does snorts at the fact that Rogers had basically told Maria to shove it. Phil hesitates before grabbing the next slim file: Steven Rogers, Medical Report, September 15, 2012. Once he opens it, he skims the contents quickly, as though reading it fast will somehow make it less rage-inducing. Patient presented with minor complaints… mild dehydration resolved orally… Rapid resolution of minor injuries due to presence of serum in blood... There's nothing in it that he didn’t expect, given what he saw of Rogers condition the day before. By the time Rogers got to Medical, the serum had pretty much taken care of any complaints he might have had. The unfairness of it gets Phil agitated all over again. Clint’s medical report file from the same date is considerably thicker and Phil’s stomach twists when he picks it up. He can feel his heartrate elevate just thinking about what it contains. As Clint’s medical power-of-attorney, he is allowed to read Clint’s medical report. As Agent Barton’s handler and the Avengers’ liaison, it’s his responsibility to read it, and he knows he should. But as Clint’s partner, he can’t bring himself to violate what he knows would be Clint’s wishes on the matter. Phil unlocks the drawer in his desk and drops the file in, unread, then tosses the other two on top of it. He closes and relocks the drawer. When he leaves at the end of the day, he’ll take them personally down to the paper-files vault and lock them away from prying eyes. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Steve is up at his regular time the day after his return to the Tower and heads out for his morning run. The familiarity of it soothes him after a restless night following his debrief with Hill. He's still a little tired. His body regenerated quickly but it was put through considerable strain on the quinjet so he's not quite up to 100% yet. Still, it feels good to be moving, and he concentrates on his breathing and his heartrate as he settles into a slightly-slower-than-normal pace around Central Park, some of the previous day’s tension finally ebbing. A few miles in, he becomes suddenly aware that something’s not right and he quickly stops, panting lightly and staring, stunned, down at his growing erection. He’s inexplicably aroused and even the smallest movement is sending unexpected sparks of pleasure through his body. He stands completely still, hoping it will recede, but he only gets harder. His anxiety spikes as it occurs to him that it must be some kind of side effect of what went on in Canada. Steve startles when a runner in reflective gear passes by with a grunted acknowledgement and slight rise of his hand. Thankfully, it’s still dark and Steve was facing slightly away, so the jogger probably didn’t see Steve’s state. But he can’t stay where he is, so he moves toward a nearby bench, hoping that if he just stays still for a while, his erection will go away on its own. Every step he takes exacerbates the situation and his balls are tightening by the time he manages to sit down. He sits motionless to avoid any further stimulation. He needs to talk to Hill, or Medical, and find out if this is a normal reaction or if maybe the serum has something to do with it. And if this is a short-term effect, or permanent. Cold fear settles in his stomach. He sits with his legs crossed so passing runners won’t notice the state he’s in, and waits for fifteen minutes before he admits to himself that its useless. He’s rock-hard and throbbing in his thin track pants, and a sizeable wet spot of pre-come has begun to leak through. The bench is too close to the running path and it will be light soon. He needs an alternative plan. There’s a stand of trees about 100 yards away. If he moves over there, he might be able to hide himself enough to take care of his problem. Jesus, he hopes no one sees him – the last thing he needs is a public indecency arrest on top of everything else. He gets up slowly, sucking in a startled breath at the intense hyper-sensitivity. He remembers this feeling, of being so completely aroused and desperate for release, of wanting to do things to Clint. At least right now he doesn’t seem to have any particular desire for the other man. Whatever is going on with his body seems to be purely physical, and he’s not experiencing the excruciating need that he did that day on the quinjet. The sky is lightening up and he sees a group of runners heading in his direction so he moves, trotting toward the trees. Every step has him gasping at the friction that the heightened sensation is bringing, and he’s taking the last steps toward the first tree when his body convulses and he comes without warning. Its nearly violent in its intensity and Steve cries out as he falls to his hands and knees, shuddering through his orgasm. “Hey, buddy! You okay?” someone calls out. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he yells back, half turning and raising a hand at the friendly jogger. “Just a leg cramp. Getting better already.” He smiles and waves again, and then releases a relieved breath when the jogger moves on. Slowly, he shifts and sits down against the tree, his back to the path. He’s breathing heavier than he was when he was running and his heart is pounding. It’s light enough that he can see the visible mess; the front of his track pants are saturated in come and the wet patch is readily noticeable. “Shit,” Steve mutters. He’s not generally one for cursing, but certain things in life just call out for it and this feels like one of them. But he doesn’t have time to dwell. He knows he needs to get up and get moving before it gets fully light and there are more people on the path - and God forbid, he gets another erection. He hauls himself up and starts running, sustaining a sprinting pace all the way back to the Tower. For the first time in days, he’s grateful for the serum in his blood. Steve takes the private elevator up to the common floor, then ducks around to the back stairs and sprints up three floors to his own apartment, slamming the door and locking it behind him before he goes straight to the bathroom. He turns on the shower, leaving the water cold, and strips off. He started getting hard again about six blocks from the Tower and now he’s fully erect, his cock weeping again. He steps under the frigid spray – the distant unpleasant memories of being frozen not even putting a dent in the unwanted images that had been assaulting him all the way back from Central Park. …the two of them, sitting up on their knees, Barton's back pressed to Steve’s chest, Steve’s thighs burning as he holds Barton up and fucks into him, mouth sucking dark marks onto Barton's neck… …looking up at Barton, eyes glassy, and dripping sweat as he shoves his cock all the way down Steve’s throat. Spit and come run down Steve’s chin to his neck, and he’s so turned on that he’s desperately fisting his own cock… …Barton on his back eyes closed, gritting his teeth, his leaking cock bouncing on his taut stomach, knees held tight in the crooks of Steve’s elbows, as Steve fucks him relentlessly… Steve’s mouth waters, foretelling the impending arrival of the contents of his stomach. He retches, bringing up a small amount of bile that he spits out and watches down the drain. He’s disgusted, but it’s not the fact that Barton is a man that’s so disturbing to him. It’s the sheer excess of it, how nothing was ever enough. It’s the terrifying need that left him so completely out of control. It’s how he was overcome with a possessiveness he’s never felt before that drove him to claim Barton – to brutally mark his body with his mouth. It’s how he had completely given in to his cravings without thought or care for how it might impact Barton. It’s all so anathema to who Steve is, to how Steve has ever felt – feels now – that he can't align that person with who he knows he is. He stands for several moments in the shower, trying to will away his erection but it doesn’t flag in the slightest. Finally, with a sense of frustration and surrender, he takes himself in hand. He closes his eyes and his mind easily supplies images of the women he’s been with – the ones that have always supplied fodder for his fantasies when he jacks off. It works for a while, but when the filmstrip in his head gets to the part where the woman puts her mouth around his cock, suddenly it’s Barton’s mouth on his hole, rough tongue licking and devouring him and then shoving inside. Steve yells as his orgasm rips out of him so unexpectedly that his knees almost buckle again. His body twitches and shakes - his breath hitching and ragged - as his come stripes the white tile. Steve groans as he squeezes the last pulse of semen from his cock, shivering as he gives in to the cold and the phantom sensation of Barton’s tongue. He drops his forehead against the shower wall. Fuck. Fuck. Clint stares at himself in the mirror. He’s avoided it since he’s been at Phil’s but he figures it’s time to man up. He lets out an aggrieved breath as he studies his reflection. He barely recognizes the person looking back at him. Several days’ worth of facial hair has him looking like somebody else and he doesn’t like it. His face is only a little tender so it wouldn’t be difficult to shave, but the growth is helping to camouflage the worst of the marks that are still visible on his neck. He considers it for a moment, then remembers the hard expression he’d seen when he’d caught Phil’s eyes lingering there for a second before turning away. He decides to leave it for now. The bruises on his arms are fading and none of them hurt at all. The smaller, more superficial ones are just mauve-colored dots, but the larger, deeper ones are still working their way through purple and have only just barely begun to edge into a sickly green. Clint grunts his annoyance and turns his attention to his chest. More bruises and Rogers’ fucking love bites everywhere. He closes his eyes at the memory of Rogers sucking hard on his neck while he’d fucked him in the ass. More unnervingly, Clint had begged him to do it; pleaded with him to fuck him again and again, keening in undisguised pleasure when Rogers attached his mouth to Clint’s body. He shakes off the uncomfortable thoughts and opens his eyes, staring at his visible ribs. He’d dropped such an alarming amount of weight the first week that he’d gone back to solid foods a couple of days ago, even though Smolser suggested he might want to wait a while longer. Every bowel movement leaves him with tears leaking from his eyes, but he can’t afford to start dropping muscle mass, so he grits his teeth and forces himself to eat. After a moment of stalling, he finally forces his eyes further down his body. The chafing is still bad. Around the edges, on his belly and his thighs, the scarlet red had faded to bright pink fairly quickly and then settled more or less back to normal, but his entire groin is mostly still a solid mass of throbbing fire, and still unnaturally swollen. The worst of the chafing had been deep enough that it had become abrasions, weeping wounds that have now scabbed over. He looks like some grotesque freak. The first week, drying himself after a shower had practically brought him to his knees, but keeping the area clean and dry is crucial so he’d taken to throwing back some Vicodin every time he got in the shower. After his first follow-up with Smolser, the doctor had sent a handheld hair dryer over, and now Clint uses that to dry his genitals and ass. The man is a genius. Clint’s cock twitches and he glares down at the traitorous organ. Most horrifying of all, his exposure to the Empulcoitus has left him hyper-sensitive. Sex is the farthest thing from his mind, but Clint’s cock jumps and threatens to fill unpredictably, even though every touch is still excruciating. One completely unwelcome erection that he couldn’t possibly alleviate had left him curled in a ball on the bed and whimpering like a puppy before he finally swallowed three Vicodin and knocked himself out. He’d woken hours later, gratefully flaccid again. He watches his cock apprehensively and waits to see what will happen today. Thankfully, the twitching stops after a few moments and doesn’t develop into anything worse; he sags in relief. The other victims of Empulcoitus had the same aftereffect. For the most part, they reported that the symptom lasted a couple of weeks, so Clint is hopeful that he’s experiencing the tail end of it. He wonders if Rogers is dealing with it, too. The Super Serum is a wild card; for all Clint knows, it could be shielding him from any side effects, but it could also be making it worse. It certainly seemed to exacerbate the whole fucking part. Clint sincerely hopes the man at least gets to escape this indignity. Once he’s sure the danger is past, he gingerly slips one leg into his boxers, and then the other, then pulls a t-shirt over his head and makes his way to the kitchen. Recovery periods have never been easy for him. He hates being sidelined and gets prickly at the implication that he needs help. Tension has been building all week as he’s grown less and less accepting of Phil’s efforts to help him. Phil’s been hovering close, then realizing what he’s doing and backing off, then hovering again, and backing off, like he’s in some sort of orbit around Clint. Clint’s tolerance is waning rapidly and he’s had to stop himself from lashing out more than once in the last couple of days. This morning, he’s brooding after his self-examination, and he’s on a razor’s edge, dreading the upcoming visit from Smolser. The pain of it he can handle, but Smolser’s last visit five days ago left Clint feeling exposed and vulnerable and the effort to contain it all had left him shaking and exhausted afterward. Phil walks into the kitchen while Clint’s digging around in the refrigerator pulling out yogurt and fruit, and when he reaches up and grabs a bowl out of the cupboard for Clint’s breakfast, Clint’s jaw tightens. “I can get it myself,” he grits out. Phil freezes for a split second and then sets the bowl on the counter. “I know.” “Then stop treating me like a fucking invalid,” he snarls. Phil barely glances at him, then opens the drawer and takes out a spoon, setting it in the bowl for Clint before turning to face him. Clint slams the refrigerator door and crosses his arms, glaring. “I understand,” Phil says calmly, “that if you were to stop and think about it, you’d realize that me getting a bowl out for you when I’m standing in front of the cupboard is not in any way meant to impugn your manhood or imply that you couldn’t do it for yourself; that this is just me doing what I would do for you on any given day. But I also understand that you’re frustrated by all of this, so I’m going to ignore that.” He gives Clint a good-natured smile. Clint presses his lips together to keep from saying something he’ll really regret and looks away. He doesn’t move as Phil reaches around him, grabs the coffee pot and fills his travel mug. “I’m not sure when I’ll be home, but text if you want me to pick up anything on the way,” he tells Clint. “I’d kiss you good-bye but I’m afraid you’d scratch my eyes out if I try, so I’ll see you later,” he adds as he slots the carafe back into place, and then disappears from the kitchen. Clint doesn’t answer, but when he hears the front door close softly, he drops his head and swears – first at Phil, for thinking he’s fucking funny – and then at himself for being such a fucking asshole to one of the two people in the world who actually gives a shit about him. “How’s the pain?” “Getting better,” Clint answers tightly, as Smolser slowly lifts his penis to look at the underside and get a better look at his scrotum. “Still taking the Vicodin?” Clint hesitates, catches himself, and then answers honestly. “Yes. Not as often.” “Good.” He grits his teeth and tries to relax, but it’s fucking hard. Smolser is being as gentle as he possibly can, and Clint trusts him, but he’s still vibrating with tension. The last ten minutes of probing questions and prodding hands have left him completely unnerved. “Okay,” Smolser removes his hands and takes a quick step back, stripping off the nitrile gloves. “We’re done.” Clint hisses as he sits up and pulls the sheet over himself. It’s weird having a medical exam on Phil’s bed, but it was a better option than having to limp through SHIELD. “How’s it look, Doc?” he asks, masking his discomfort in a casual tone. “It looks fine, Clint. The healing is where I would expect it to be after ten days. Any questions or concerns?” “Yeah, uh, the abrasions, now that they’re healing, they’re starting to itch, but…” Clint winces. “Mmm. Yes, I can imagine,” he says mildly. “Normally we’d give a steroid cream for itching, but those are generally contraindicated for the genital area anyway, never mind your current condition. You might try soaking in an oatmeal bath, that might give you some temporary relief.” He looks apologetic. “I’m sorry, it’s the best I can do under the circumstances.” “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Doc.” Clint waits for the doctor to leave but Smolser unexpectedly sits down on the edge of the bed and eyes him levelly. Clint gives him a curious look. “How’re you doing, Clint?” he asks. “You just told me I’m fine, Doc,” he answers, already knowing it’s not going to deflect what comes next. “Have you talked to anyone about what happened?” “Still moonlighting for Psych, Doc?” Clint retorts. It comes out harsh, and he regrets it immediately. Smolser just watches him without reaction as all of Clint’s insecurities start making a mad dash to be the first one through the door. He sighs and drops his head. “I’m going stir crazy. Everything still fucking hurts. Coulson’s driving me up a wall with his need to help me all the time and I’ve been such an ass about it that I wouldn’t blame him if he sent me back to HQ any minute. My dick thinks it wants to go out and fuck something, and just the thought of going back to the Tower and seeing Rogers after what I did is…” Clint shakes his head and laughs bitterly. It's quiet for a moment and then Smolser speaks. “Can I give you some advice?” Clint looks at the man. “If I say no are you going to anyway?” he asks tiredly. “No.” Clint huffs and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them, Smolser is still looking at him the same way. Clint sighs. “Yeah, sure. Have at it.” He gestures weakly. “You know the old saying about how you eat an elephant?” “One bite at a time,” Clint finishes. Smolser nods, pats Clint on the thigh, and stands up. “That’s it?” Clint asks, incredulously. “You’re not going to tell me to go to Psych?” “You already know you should go to Psych,” he answers as he pulls on his jacket. “Yeah. But seriously, that’s all you’ve got for me?” He kind of wants Smolser to tell him what he should do. Smolser stops and considers for a moment. “Don’t underestimate Phil,” he adds, then picks up his bag. “I’d like to see you in about a week to check on things again. Maybe you’ll be ready to get out by then and can come see me at Medical.” Clint waits until Smolser is gone before he eases himself off the bed and limps to the bathroom. He opens the cabinet and skeptically eyes the jar and sticky-note with Phil’s hand-written instructions describing how much of the mixture to add to the bath. A half-hour later, he’s dozing lightly while he soaks. His quietude is disrupted when he hears the sounds of Phil’s return and he tenses, making a quick check of the bath to reassure himself that the water is murky enough that nothing is visible. Clint’s been very careful to ensure that Phil’s not seen the full extent of his injuries and he doesn’t want that to change now. But it’s a moot point because Phil never knocks on the door. After their friction this morning, he knows Phil is giving him space. Phil had clearly waited to come home until he was sure Smolser would be gone, and Clint appreciates the consideration. Phil has complete access to his medical records, but Clint doesn’t know if he’s read these most recent ones or not. He hasn’t raised the subject and neither has Clint. Normally he wouldn’t care, but this time… This time he’s still sometimes having trouble interpreting what he sees in Phil’s expression and he’s too unnerved to ask what it means. Clint sighs and slides further down in the tub, using his toe to open the hot tap for a minute and warm the water. He stews in his bath, regretting how he’d struck out at Phil earlier because he knows it was childish and that this is about himself and not Phil. Years of Psych appointments have taught him that. If nothing else, he can now recognize his own issues, even if he can’t always overcome them. When he was a little kid, his life had been happy enough. His mom was the center of his world and she loved him and Barney. Their dad wasn’t around much; he drove a truck and was gone for weeks at a time. And when he was home, he just drank a lot and passed out. Clint and Barney mostly kept their distance from him because he was a mean drunk, verbally abusing all of them. Then, when he was six, his dad was fired for driving his truck drunk, and what happiness Clint had, was shattered. Unable to find another job, his moods grew blacker. He drank more and more, and instead of just yelling, he started hitting. He and Barney still made themselves scarce, but his mom couldn’t do that and more often than not, she was the target of his violence. One day, after watching his dad beat his mom too many times, he’d charged at him, yelling at him to stop. He had stopped, and then he’d beaten Clint viciously. He screamed in pain, causing his father to beat him harder, yelling at him to shut up. And when his mom had rushed to help him, his father had pushed her violently away, yelling at her to stop coddling the little asshole. Clint ended up with a broken arm, two fractured ribs, and a broken nose that left his eyes so swollen that he could barely see. But Clint didn’t care, because at least he’d stopped his dad from beating on his mom that day; he was happy to take the punishment instead. A few days later, though, Clint had watched helplessly as his dad pummeled his mom, and a couple days after that, when he lit into Barney. Clint shook with rage that he couldn’t do anything, too hobbled by his injuries and useless to step in to help. He swore to himself that he’d never let it happen again and he stepped between them every time, right up until it wasn't necessary anymore because they were both dead, killed in a drunk driving accident with his father behind the wheel. It didn’t take a genius to understand that all of this added up to a big ball of psychological mess that was the genesis of his frustration with being sidelined by injury and his unwillingness to sit by and do nothing when others were in danger. His father had been the first to teach him that complaining about your injuries never helped, his fists coming more frenzied if Clint made a sound; he quickly trained himself not to cry. But his entire life had essentially been one continuous lesson that illness or injury were not something to be indulged in, because no one cared, and because showing it could land you someplace much worse. In the orphanage, the nuns didn’t have the time to soothe every crying child (there were so many), and the older kids just mocked those who did and called them babies, so there was no point. Foster families didn’t want the hassle of a kid who needed extra attention. They just wanted the money that came with taking you in and as soon as you got to be more trouble than you were worth (literally) they sent you packing. It happened to him and Barney a few times; once Clint had to carry all of their combined belongings – stuffed into garbage bags – while Barney carefully cradled his arm. It was two more days before any adult had bothered to notice the ten-year-old had a broken ulna. The circus was more or less an “every man for himself” situation – or in their case, every kid. If something happened and you couldn’t perform or do your job, you were left by the side of the road in whatever crappy town you were in when the circus moved on. Clint lived in terror of that happening – of being separated from Barney – so he never complained and performed through all manner of injury and illness. It didn’t stop him from being left behind in the end, though. There were all kinds of ways that showing weakness was a bad idea in the merc camps, where the only one to watch your back was yourself. The best-case scenario if you couldn’t hold your own, was you didn’t get paid. Slightly worse, you lost a contract because a competitor saw your weakness and took advantage; that only set you up to be preyed upon by others. Clint’s not proud to admit that he’d stolen a few jobs that way himself, but there was no room for pity in mercenary work. Worst-case scenario, if you couldn’t work through a little pain, you got yourself killed. So, yeah, by the time Clint got to SHIELD, he had a pretty firm understanding of how much people didn’t give a shit about what kind of condition he was in and the potential consequences of complaining about it. By then, he was past the point of caring, anyway; pain was just pain and he could work through it. It was fine. But the first time Clint got hurt on a SHIELD mission, about a year after he’d been recruited, he’d woken up in Medical, surprised to see his handler next to his bed. It was the start of the long journey to understanding that maybe it wasn’t entirely fine. A mission had gone to shit pretty much immediately and there was suddenly a lot of unexpected shooting going on. Agents were pinned down but Clint couldn’t see what the hell was happening from his vantage point. The idea of doing nothing - of sitting by uselessly in his assigned position – was a non-starter for Clint. Without a second of hesitation, he’d torn out his comms so he wouldn’t have to hear Coulson tell him to stop, and had left his perch to help the agents on the ground. He’d taken a hit pretty quickly, a bullet slicing not-so-neatly through the muscle just below the line of his armored vest. He registered it vaguely, but kept fighting. When the dust finally settled, he moved on to helping the wounded, dragging them to waiting helicopters with one arm slung over his shoulder, or carrying them bridal-style if need be. “I think it’s your turn, Agent Barton,” he heard his handler’s voice and turned to see Coulson watching him with an unreadable expression. “I’m fine, Sir,” he’d answered, blinking slowly, but the next time he opened his eyes, he was in Medical, with Coulson sitting by his side. Clint felt a small bubble of panic well up inside him. “S…Sorry,” he managed to stammer out, his voice rough and scratchy. Coulson tilted his head slightly. “You do owe me an apology, but I’m curious, Agent, what exactly are you sorry for?” he’d asked mildly. Instinctively, Clint knew that it was a trap. He was going to get the answer wrong, no matter what he said. So instead, he shifted his gaze to the ceiling and didn’t say anything. He wasn't surprised when that didn't work. “I’d like an answer, please, Agent. What are you apologizing for?” Coulson asked, still with a deceptively easy tone. Cling clenched his jaw and continued to stare at the ceiling. “For screwing up the mission,” he finally answered. “You didn’t screw up the mission. The mission was screwed by bad intel. You assisted four agents who would, without question, be dead now if you hadn’t made a move. But you know that. So, Agent, what are you really apologizing for?” Clint closed his eyes as dread washed over him. They hadn’t worked together much, but Clint had gotten the impression that Coulson was a pretty decent guy. Apparently he’d been wrong. Clearly Coulson was the sadistic type who got off on making him list out his inadequacies just to make him feel like shit. What an asshole. But, fine. SHIELD was still the best gig he’d had in… ever, so if he had to play this game, he could. He gritted his teeth. “For getting shot. Sir,” he added, not even trying to hide the resentment in his voice. Coulson didn’t say anything for a long time and tension built in the silent room. Finally, when Clint couldn’t stand the suspense any longer he turned and glanced back at his handler. The man looked calm but somehow also like he was on the verge of great violence. Clint’s panic grew. “Look, I won’t be out of commission for long, okay. I can work through the pain,” he said, and wrapped an arm around his abdomen, grimacing as he sat up, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed to prove it. “It’s not a big deal. Just gimme a week and I’ll be good. Less if you need me out there sooner. I swear,” Clint added, panting through the discomfort. Coulson had stood when Clint had moved and his face was doing something weird that Clint couldn’t interpret; his anxiety skyrocketed. “Agent Barton,” Coulson started, and then stopped for a moment, staring at Clint the whole time with a tight expression. His brow furrowed for a second before he pressed one hand against the front of one of Clint’s shoulder, then placed his other hand on the back of the other and gently eased Clint down onto the bed. He lifted Clint’s gown on the side to take a quick look at his bandaged injury and then resettled the sheet and blanket over him. Clint could only stare, dumbfounded. “What you should be apologizing for is not trusting me. I’m your handler, and the only way that that relationship can work and for us to be successful, is for you to trust me to know my job and do what’s best for my people. I was about to tell you to get the hell down there when you foolishly removed your comms, so that for the rest of the fight, I had no way to communicate with you. Had you not done that, I would have warned you about the shooter on your left flank and you might not have sustained the injury you did.” Clint felt his face flush at the criticism and his own stupidity. “Thankfully, your injury isn’t severe and the doctors believe you should recover quickly. I say that not because I’m worried about how long you’ll be out of commission, but because human suffering is not something I ever enjoy seeing.” Clint rolled his eyes. “I’m not suffering,” he muttered. Coulson huffed out a disbelieving breath. “Are you in pain?” Clint sighed loudly. “Jesus, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need coddling.” Coulson eyed him assessingly for a moment before speaking again. “Agent, while you are on your medical leave, and until such point that I am confident that it is no longer necessary, you will meet twice weekly with Dr. Manfred from the Psychological and Therapy Services Department--” “What the fuck, Coulson! I cleared Psych!” “Agent,” Coulson said firmly and Clint snapped his mouth shut. “You will do as directed, and you will cooperate with Dr. Manfred, do you understand?” Clint just glared at him. “Do you understand, Agent?” “You want to at least tell me why I’m being punished,” he bit out. Something in Coulson’s face seemed to shift and he brought a hand up to rub viciously at eyes for a second before looking back at Clint, this time with a softer expression. “You’re not being punished, Agent.” Clint couldn’t stop a derisive snort from slipping out. “You’re not. Barton,” he said, more gently still, “somewhere along the line, you seem to have gotten the mistaken impression that your well-being is irrelevant, and you need to be disabused of that notion.” Clint snorted again. “Fine. I’ll put it in terms you’re more comfortable with. Your attitude and mistaken impression could get you killed, and you’re too valuable an asset for us to allow that to happen. Or it could get someone else killed, and I know neither of us wants that, so we need to take corrective action. You will therefore submit yourself to Dr. Manfred, and you will cooperate with him fully. And fair warning, he’s a very astute man and he will see through any subterfuge on your part.” “They didn’t see through it before,” Clint mumbled. “Yes, well. When you had your clearance evaluation they were looking more for homicidal maniac tendencies and less for low self-worth issues.” Clint snapped his glare to Coulson, nostrils flaring as he pushed out angry breaths. “He will keep me apprised of your progress and if he indicates that you are in any way not fully cooperating and working to redirect your thought process, you will be dismissed from SHIELD. We don’t need reckless agents.” Clint looked away. “And one more thing. If you ever purposefully remove your comms in the middle of a mission again, it will be your last. Are we clear?” “Crystal,” Clint managed through clenched teeth, and Coulson had left without another word. So Clint had gone to therapy. And Coulson was right, Manfred was good. It took a while, but eventually Clint understood that his fucked-up life was… fucked up. And that the way he dealt with injuries and pain – his own and other people’s – was informed by his parents, the orphanage, the foster homes, the circus, the merc camps. That one experience built on another and added up to a distorted view of appropriate behavior and reactions. Of course, having an intellectual understanding of that and successfully changing your behaviors 100% of the time are two entirely different things. Clint may have begun to recognize his own self-destructive behavior, but a lifetime of conditioning is still pretty fucking hard to undo. So, yeah, Clint’s not the best patient. And he recognizes that sitting on the sideline with Phil watching his every move, waiting to jump in to help, and Clint both trying to let him while simultaneously having to fight every instinct in his body in order to do so, is what has him wound so tight he’s been feeling like he’s going to explode. He settles deeper into the tub, gives himself another jolt of hot water, and tries some more to relax. Smolser’s advice is still resonating in the back of Clint’s mind: one bite at a time. His physical recovery is making progress but only time will fix that; he can’t do anything about Rogers for now – not that he has any idea how he’ll fix that anyway; so Clint settles on trying to eat the one piece of the elephant that he can right now. When he gets himself dried off and dressed, he searches out Phil. He finds him changed into jeans and a t-shirt and slouched on the couch with a beer, watching Monday Night Football. He looks up as Clint approaches, face placid but eyes conveying a complex combination of concern, wariness, and that thing that Clint can never quite identify. He moves to sit down and Phil doesn’t say anything but he shifts over a bit, so as not to crowd him, even though it’s Clint who’s invading Phil’s space and not vice versa. Clint sits closer to Phil than Phil clearly expected, and Clint catches the flicker of a pleased expression and how his eyes crinkle the way Clint loves. Neither of them says anything for a few long moments, and then Clint sighs and tips sideways a little, leaning into Phil. Phil hesitates for a brief second, then pulls his arm free and wraps it gently around Clint’s shoulders. “Meow,” Phil teases quietly, offering easier forgiveness than Clint probably deserves. Clint huffs a genuine laugh and settles further in as Phil presses a smiling kiss into his hair. Phil is eating alone at the far side of the cafeteria when Steve Rogers appears with a cup of coffee in his hand. He’s been avoiding Rogers since the Empulcoitus incident, which he knows is completely unprofessional, but, screw it. Since their run-in with Loki, Phil’s had something of a new appreciation for the important things in life, and Clint, he knows, is the most important thing. So, yeah, Phil’s been avoiding Steve Rogers because his focus has been on Clint and he frankly just doesn’t want to look at the man who brutalized his partner, intentional or not. Plus, if he can keep funneling all of his rage and frustration at the situation at Rogers, he can pretend that it’s not all his fault for sending them into the base with bad intel in the first place. But he knows that as Agent Coulson, he still has a responsibility to the man. Phil sighs inwardly and sits back, looking up him. “May I join you?” Rogers asks, sounding unsure and hesitant. Phil gestures neutrally to the chair across from him. Rogers sits, looking uncomfortable, and doesn’t say anything, just fidgets with his coffee cup on the table. Phil waits him out for a minute and then loses patience. “Can I do something for you, Captain?” Rogers straightens and clears his throat. “Yes, I… I wanted to know how Agent Barton is doing, but I… don’t know where he is or how to contact him.” “He’s recovering. He should be back on active duty in a week or so.” “Good,” Rogers nods, staring at his coffee. “What is it?” Phil asks, because clearly Rogers has more to say. Rogers eyes flick between Phil and his coffee. “It’s just… the serum… it… it made it last so much longer, and I… I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I couldn’t stop...” Phil flinches at the thought of Clint, depleted and at the end of his endurance, battered and in pain, while Rogers’ body pushes on. Oh, Christ, Clint. Phil has to look away for a moment to gather his composure. Since that first day, he’s actively avoided thinking about the details of what happened to Clint. It’s the only way he’s been able to stop himself from doing something he’ll regret and that might end his career. Phil’s stomach turns and he looks down at his food with a sudden loss of appetite. He can’t bring himself to look at Rogers, but in his peripheral vision he can see that Rogers is looking away uncomfortably as well. After a moment of awkward silence, Rogers clears his throat again. “Will he come back to the Tower?” Phil snaps his gaze back to Rogers. “Yes,” he says emphatically, because even though they haven’t discussed it, Clint never backs down from a difficult situation and Phil knows that nothing that happened on the quinjet will keep him from doing his job once he’s able. “Good. That’s good,” Rogers answers, nodding again, looking somehow relieved and ill at ease at the same time. He seems to get lost in his thoughts for a moment. Phil waits him out for a minute and then loses patience. “Is there something else you wanted, Captain?” Rogers shifts his gaze back to Phil. “This is very awkward.” “Yes,” Phil acknowledges, agreeing completely. Rogers shifts in his seat. “Barton, uh, told me that the two of you…” Phil freezes for a second and he schools his face into a stony glare. “Is that going to be a problem, Captain?” “What? No! Of course not,” Rogers rushes, clearly flustered. “I’m glad to hear it,” Phil says, his voice steely, though he’s more relieved than he’d like to admit. “I just,” he stops and then abruptly sits up straight, placing both hands on the table and looking Phil directly in the eye. “I just wanted to apologize. To Hawkeye, of course, when I can. But, given your relationship with him, I also feel I owe you an apology.” Phil just blinks at Rogers. The line between personal and professional is so blurred right now that he has no idea which side of it he’s on or how to respond. It only ever happens to Phil when Clint is somehow involved because he’s the only person who can get Phil so tied up in knots that he loses his objectivity like this. He’s never been able to decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but he does know that Clint’s become so integral that it’s an inevitable thing, so he long ago accepted it. Rogers is apologizing to him but he finds he can’t bring himself to accept it. The man sitting across from him left Clint wrecked; in addition to the severe physical injuries he inflicted by virtue of the serum in his blood, he also inflicted potentially significant psychological trauma. And he wants Phil to forgive him. Phil is suddenly acutely aware that he’s reached the end of his tolerance for the conversation. “Sir?” Rogers says tentatively, shaking Phil out of his distraction. Phil closes his eyes for a few seconds and searches for objectivity but comes up empty. “Captain, I’m not sure I can give what you want right now. All I can offer is the assurance that I am a professional and will behave as such when we work together. But if you’re seeking absolution, I suggest you find a priest.” Phil stands. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting,” he says, meeting Rogers’ eyes with a steady look. The man looks stricken and guilty. Phil feels his own flicker of guilt, but he can’t bring himself to give Rogers empty words of forgiveness. Rogers stands up himself. “Yes, Sir.” Phil doesn’t respond, just turns and leaves, dumping the rest of his food in the garbage as he goes. After 18 days in Phil’s apartment, Clint’s bored out of his mind; there’s only so much television he can watch before he wants to stick daggers in his eyes. He’s healed enough that he can move around more easily, though not quite smoothly enough to chance going back to the Tower. And when he’d finally shaved two days ago, he’d been frustrated to find that a few of the worst of the fucking love bites Rogers worked into his neck were still visible. Smolser had cleared him for light activity the day before, but cautioned him not to push too hard if things became painful, and reminded him that a lot of sweat could lead to new chafing. Restless and needing a distraction from his circular, self-destructive thoughts, he heads to HQ. His status as an Avenger means he can have all the time he wants on the private range. He zips all the way into his jacket and flips up the hood, hiding the fading bruises from view, not that he needs to worry too much since the latent hostility toward him for his role in Loki’s attack means very few people there ever engage him anyway. He grabs his bow and goes. Once at the range, he locks the door, blinds the observation windows, strips down to his t-shirt, and takes out his bow. He works the targets for two hours before he growls and tosses his bow aside in frustration. The muscles in body still ache from the strain and extended overuse on the quinjet, but it’s nothing that he hasn’t pushed through dozens of times before and there’s something about it that feels almost good. It’s the fire in his groin that forces him to stop, the sweat and small, subtle shifts in stance aggravating the last of the chafed areas still trying to heal, and reigniting the pain. He reaches for his bag and grabs a bottle of Ibuprofen, popping three in his mouth and swallowing them down with an entire bottle of water. His muscle memory aches to keep shooting, but he knows that that will just prolong his recovery, so he does the smart thing instead of the thing he wants to do and packs up his gear. After he puts the hoodie back on, he heads up to the cafeteria, thinking to grab some coffee to bring to Phil. He’s waiting in line at the coffee kiosk just inside the doors when he spots two familiar figures sitting at the far side of the room, in an out-of-the-way corner. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but Clint’s pretty good at reading body language. The conversation looks stilted and awkward. Rogers is speaking haltingly, and Phil is a master at containing his emotions but Clint is a master at reading Phil, and it’s obvious that Phil is bothered by whatever the other man is saying. After a moment of mostly Rogers talking and Phil looking almost anywhere but at Rogers, Phil finally pins Rogers with a hard gaze and says something. Rogers reacts visibly and then Phil gets up and leaves. Clint’s gut sinks. Phil idolizes Captain America – has for decades – so there’s something inherently wrong with what Clint just witnessed. Phil being angry at Clint, he can understand – he deserves it. But Phil being angry at Rogers, that’s just… wrong. Guilt eats at him because he can only think of one reason for Phil to have done a 180 on Rogers. Clint swallows thickly and abandons the coffee queue, slipping out the side door before either of the two men see him. He goes back to the Tower 24 days after their return from Canada when the last of the marks on his body are finally no longer visible. It’d been a week before every movement wasn’t pure agony, another week before the pain had started to really ebb. Only in the last couple of days has he been able to consistently move around with enough ease that people wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Well, normal people anyway. But thankfully Natasha’s been on a long-term op for the last six weeks and completely incommunicado. That’s been the only saving grace about this whole situation – that Nat wasn’t around to figure out what was going on, because she would see though his bullshit in a heartbeat. Well, that and the fact that the surprise erections have gone away. He’d rather stay at Phil’s, but Fury orders him back to the Tower so they can continue their exercise in ‘team bonding’ that sharing a roof apparently helps facilitate. So Clint returns late one night and then drags his ass into the kitchen at 0530 the next day. He’s generally a morning person, but after nearly a month of doing little besides sleeping, reading, and watching television, the early hour is harder than usual; he’d had to set an alarm and force himself to get up so he can get his body clock reset and get back on a normal schedule. He still hasn’t seen anyone else and he doesn’t really want to, but he figures he’s safe because you could set a clock by Rogers’ morning run - he will have left a half-hour ago and not be back for another hour. The rest of the residents rarely show their faces before ten. Before everything happened, he and Rogers had actually begun to bond over their shared trait as morning people when they’d all first come together in Stark’s Tower. They’d sat in companionable silence over cups of coffee – neither of them particularly being morning talkers – and passed pieces of the newspaper back and forth between them. More recently, Clint had begun running with Rogers some days; jogging together to the park and back, with Rogers running literal circles around him once there. Despite his initial trepidation over the fact that Phil’s hero had shown up alive and in person, Clint found he genuinely liked the guy. Rogers is smart, an excellent tactician in the field, and ballsy as hell. And he’s got a quick, self-deprecating sense of humor that goes a long way to putting others at ease with the fact that he’s Captain America. Clint is genuinely disappointed that the easy comradery they’d been building is probably ruined. Clint stands near the coffee maker transfixed by the steady brown stream pouring into the pot. As soon as it beeps, he pours himself a tall mug, shuffles over to the breakfast bar, and drops onto a stool. He stares dazedly into the steaming mug waiting for it to cool. He should be able to get this one down, refill the mug and take it back to his apartment long before anyone else shows up. A small noise makes him look up and he freezes when he sees Rogers walking into the room. Surprise lights Cap’s face and his step hitches for a split second but he recovers smoothly and continues toward the refrigerator. Shit. Why the fuck isn’t Rogers out on his run? “Morning,” Steve says, a beat slower than would be normal. He is carefully not looking Clint’s way. “Morning,” Clint mumbles back. He’s beginning to formulate a plan to get the hell out of there when Stark and Banner saunter in, fully dressed and looking wide awake. What the fuck? Did he land in Bizarro Tower or something? “Hey, Clint,” Banner smiles at him and sits down on the adjacent stool. “It’s good to see you again.” Clint grunts his greeting and quickly zips his hoody all the way up. It’s irrational - the marks Rogers left there are completely gone – and stupid, because making an unnecessary move like that could get him killed in an undercover op. Stark doesn’t acknowledge either of them at first, just moves directly over to the refrigerator and shoves his head inside. “So, Barton, when did you get back from Serbia?” Stark’s voice is muffled inside the appliance. “Last night. Late,” he answers. Phil had worked up a simple cover story of a recon op in Eastern Europe. Clint takes a long sip of his coffee to avoid having to say any more words. It’s still too hot and it scalds his tongue, though no one in the room would know. Tony emerges with ingredients for one of his disgusting-looking smoothies and starts throwing them into his Magic Bullet. He nudges Steve closer toward Clint to give himself more room to work at the counter and a blind man could see how Rogers freezes and resists, before moving a couple of steps backward instead. Tony stops what he’s doing and looks at Steve, then looks over at Clint, then back at Steve. “Um, is there something going on?” Tony asks, his eyes moving between the two of them like they’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. Even Banner is giving them a curious look. Clint stares into his coffee cup. “Nope,” Clint says, popping the ‘p’. “Really? ‘Cause I’m definitely getting the feeling there’s something going on.” Clint can feel Tony’s sharp gaze on him. “You feel it, right, Bruce?” Banner just holds his hands up in a ‘don’t drag me into this’ gesture. Clint is trying to ignore the whole situation and doing a pretty good job of it until he finally looks up and unfortunately locks eyes with Rogers, who is wearing a strained expression. Fuck. The two of them are not being subtle at all. “Seriously, what am I missing? I’m feeling left out here,” Stark asks, his eyes ping-ponging between them. The man is too goddamn perceptive and Clint has no idea how he could possibly respond without giving Tony more to be curious about. So he doesn’t answer; instead he just gets up, slides his coffee mug off the counter and walks out of the room without another word or a glance at anyone. In the gleaming refrigerator surface, he catches a reflection of Rogers darting out in the other direction. As he makes his escape, he can hear Stark’s voice behind him. “That was weird. Was that weird? I wasn’t imagining that, was I?” If Banner replies, Clint’s moving too fast to hear him. Fuck. Clint does the mature thing and avoids Rogers as much as he can. It’s the only thing he can think of to do. Whenever he sees the guy, he can’t stop his mind from flashing back to how he shoved his cock all the way down the man’s throat, or how Rogers had manhandled him around and fucked him in every position imaginable – and some he never would have imagined. He knows Rogers mind is in the same place because with his fair skin and blond hair, his creeping blushes are readily obvious. Every time he sees Rogers’ face flush, Clint feels himself pink up as well. It’s damned awkward. Clint sticks to his own apartment at the Tower as much as he can get away with – he suspects Rogers does too – without it becoming overly suspicious. They both seem to understand that they need to make appearances in common spaces, but they don’t talk unless necessary and Clint can see Rogers gets jumpy every time they’re in each other’s presence. Rogers would be terrible undercover; Clint hopes he’s not being quite so obvious. Tony has stopped asking questions but there’s no chance he isn’t still watching them closely. Even Bruce and Thor give them peculiar looks sometimes. It’s unnerving. When Natasha comes back, her radar is immediately pinged and she eyes them curiously, clearly not sure what’s going on, but obviously sure something is going on. They get calls to assemble and they respond like they always would because they’re professionals and neither of them is going to let bad shit happen to other people because of their own mini-drama. They make it work; by unspoken agreement, Rogers stays in the back while Clint flies the quinjet. When they get to the scene, Rogers quickly orders Clint up high and away – which is what he would do anyway. The action is usually enough of a distraction that they don’t need to interact much, but when Rogers breaks them into groups of two or three, he makes sure that he and Clint are never together, and that’s 100% fine with Clint. It works fine. Until it doesn’t. Natasha doesn’t knock. She never knocks, but Clint has spent years learning to interpret Nat’s gestures and the way she’s not-knocking right now means nothing but trouble for him. He’s been propped on his couch staring at the muted television since they came back from today’s fight, too angry at himself to do anything else. “What the hell happened between you and Steve?” Natasha demands, arms crossed as she stares him down. There’s not nearly as much accusation in her voice as there should be. Clint flicks a glance at the bruise on her cheekbone and his face hardens in self-recrimination. “We got our wires crossed. Sorry.” he answers, unable to look her in the eye. “I’m not talking about today. I’m talking about what happened in Canada.” Clint’s skilled enough that no one but Natasha would be able to see his surprise at her question. “Because whatever it was, it’s affecting the way you work in the field.” She’s not wrong. Today had been a clusterfuck. At around 0600, they’d gotten a call to assemble and get to Roosevelt Island where they’d gotten word of a Hydra lab that was purportedly experimenting on children thought to have mutant powers. Clint had abandoned his coffee (made these days in the crappy Mr. Coffee machine in his own apartment rather than in Stark’s fancy machine in the common kitchen) and suited up, bolting for the landing bay with his gear. He and Steve had done their dance to avoid each other and they’d arrived at the incident location quickly. Everything was fine. But there had been far more Hydra agents on the ground than they’d anticipated and things got chaotic fast. Iron Man, Thor, and Hulk ended up fighting a virtual army at Four Freedoms Park, while Rogers, Nat, and Clint found themselves battling another group of them around the old hospital building. Clint was up high, covering Nat and Steve from the roof. He had momentarily lost visual contact with both of them when Nat had calmly asked for back up over comms – something that Black Widow only does when she’s in serious trouble. Clint had immediately abandoned his perch and leapt over the side of the roof, flipping and dropping from one level of the fire escape to the next until he was on the ground, and then started making his way to where he thought Nat was. But then he’d seen Rogers heading the same way from the other direction and he’d hesitated, ducking around a corner to let the other man handle the situation. And Rogers had apparently done the same. “Guys? Seriously. I could use a hand here,” Natasha’s strained voice came through the comms. Clint had cursed and then bolted toward her. “I’m coming, Widow,” he’d yelled, pulling his bow up and nocking three arrows as he sprinted around the corner and immediately dispatched three of the eight Hydra agents that Nat was fighting. He kept firing, knocking one after the other out of the fray as Widow did the same with her fists and widow's bites. A second later he saw Rogers rounding the far corner, quickly assess the situation as being in hand, and then - thankfully - disappear again. Things had resolved quickly after that. A few Hydra escaped, but the lab had been isolated and the children were safe. Clint and Rogers had kept their distance from each other the rest of the day. Natasha hadn’t said a word in the field; Clint had hoped she’d missed the slip up in the chaos of the fighting, but he should have known better. Natasha never misses anything. “I said I’m sorry.” “And that doesn’t answer my question, so you wanna tell me what happened between you and Rogers?” Clint barks out a laugh that doesn’t have a bit of humor in it. “I reeeeally don’t.” “You’re going to anyway.” “Nothing happened, Nat. Drop it,” Clint says flatly, picking up the remote and flipping aimlessly through the channels. “Really?” she says, taking the remote and turning the television off. “’Cause Stark says Rogers turned up alone 52 hours later than you two were expected and that he didn’t see you until more than three weeks after that. My sources tell me something hush-hush happened in Medical the day you returned but it was locked down and no one knows any details. The tension between you is so thick you could cut it with a knife and you know I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Whatever it is, it’s affecting how the two of you work together and someone is going to get hurt. I don’t really care if you want to get yourself killed, but I’m not particularly eager to check out just yet.” “Ah, Nat, you’re always so kind and loving,” Clint mutters sarcastically, but he knows she’s worried about him. Plus, she’s right. She was in trouble today and if anything had happened to her it would have been on Clint; he’d fucked up badly because of this thing between him and Rogers. “I checked SHIELD’s files on that mission, Clint,” she says, because of course she did. “They’re remarkably absent, and you and I know that that doesn’t happen unless…” she stops. Clint squeezes his eyes shut tight, as if that could prevent the next words from coming out of her mouth. “…were you compromised?” she asks, her words quiet and annoyingly gentle. Clint flicks his glance at her for a second and sees the concern in her eyes and feels guilty for it. It’s too strong and it makes him uncomfortable so he turns his gaze back toward the ceiling. She’s worried about some last vestige of Loki rearing its ugly head and he doesn’t want to tell her the truth, but she went through hell with him in the aftermath of that while they waited to see if the Asgardian magic would save Phil, and it’s not fair to make her worry again. Clint closes his eyes and braces himself. “We got dosed with Empulcoitus,” he says in a monotone. When she doesn’t say anything for moment he turns and looks at her again. She’s staring at him neutrally, but he can tell she’s working hard to maintain the expression. He almost feels a tiny bit of satisfaction at the idea that he managed to surprise Natasha Romanov. “How bad was it?” she finally asks. Clint just shakes his head a little. He knows she’s seen the video and data from the KGB, same as him. She could try to imagine what it was like, but there’s no real way to put words to it. “Was it…” she stops and reconsiders. “What are you struggling with?” she asks instead. Clint takes a deep breath and then lets it out loudly and slowly, buying time and rifling through all the files of shit he’s struggling with in his head. Mostly he just wishes Nat would go away so he can go back to trying to pretend it didn’t happen, so he huffs a small laugh and hopes she’ll play along. “Uh, well… you know. I had sex with Captain America for like, 24 hours straight. So, there’s that.” There’s a long pause before Natasha responds. “Captain America,” she says, her voice low and dangerous. Clint looks blankly at her. “You said Captain America, Clint. Not Cap or Rogers, like you usually do.” Shit. He should have kept his mouth shut. Clint turns away and moves to get up so he can end the conversation right there, but she grabs him and yanks him back down. “Tell me,” she insists, giving him a chiding stare, “that you aren’t somehow thinking that Coulson is pissed about this.” Clint scoffs and tries to hide how close to home that hit and makes to get up again. But again, Natasha forces him back down onto the couch, this time holding him in place. “Phil and I are fine,” he snaps in frustration. “I’m sure you are,” she answers calmly. “And that’s not what I asked.” “If you don’t fucking let go of me, I’ll…” he growls at her. “You’ll what?” Natasha asks, cocking her head and an eyebrow at the same time, almost mocking, knowing it’s an empty threat. “Oh, fuck you, Nat!” he snarls, jerking his arm away from her and finally standing up. “Clint,” Nat says from where she’s still sitting on the couch. Clint wipes a hand down his face and then turns to face her. “Jesus, Nat. You know Phil idolizes Captain America,” he says resignedly. Natasha grunts and makes an impatient gesture at the obviousness of the statement. The fact that Phil’s home-office is basically a shrine to the man is the worst-kept secret at SHIELD. “And I…” he stops, and shifts his gaze away from her intense scrutiny. “You what?” she asks, standing up, but Clint doesn’t answer. “You what, Clint?” She makes a frustrated noise when he still doesn’t reply. “You are such a fucking idiot sometimes.” He finally turns back and glares at her. “He’s straight, Nat! Okay?” he yells. “Rogers is straight and I fucked him anyway! Jesus, who knows how that’s fucked him up! And I did it to Phil’s fucking hero. I saw them talking last week and Phil can’t even look him in the eye anymore. It’s ruined. I ruined it for him.” “Okay,” she says slowly, “putting aside what you think you did to Rogers, you have to know that he’s not Phil’s hero.” “It’s not what I think I did to him. And what are you talking about?” he gapes at her. “Of course he’s Phil’s hero!” “Captain America. Not Rogers. Think about it, Clint. Yes, he may have gone a little fan-boy for a while after they found him under the ice, but reality set in pretty quickly. Phil doesn’t idolize Steve Rogers. He idolizes Captain America. The ideal – not the real guy. The minute he could, Phil found an excuse to put away all of his Captain America memorabilia, because he doesn’t view Steve that way at all and it got a little weird.” “What the hell are you talking about?” he growls at her. “He didn’t get rid of his Cap stuff.” “I didn’t say he got rid of it; I said he put it away.” Clint looks at her in confusion. “Last April? Two weeks after they found him in the ice? Phil painted his home-office so he’d have a plausible reason to take everything down. For God’s sake, Clint, you helped him paint, why do you think he chose burnt umber?” “Because he likes the color,” he says, but he can hear the hesitance in his own voice. “No, idiot. Because it clashes with the red, white, and blue of all the Captain America stuff and it gave him an excuse to not put it back up.” “He didn’t put it back up?” Clint asks, feeling suddenly off-kilter. “Jesus, when was the last time you went in his office?” Clint furrows his brow. “The day we painted. I got called down to the Mojave right after.” “And you haven’t been in there since?” Clint shakes his head, thinking about the closed door in Phil’s apartment that he had spent nearly a month avoiding while he recuperated. “You don’t know that that’s why--” Nat rolls her eyes at him. “Of course it is! I swear, you have the EQ of a garden slug.” It could be true. Clint knows Phil respects Rogers but he’s also seen Phil’s jaw tighten or heard his clipped tone over the comms when Rogers has gone off book during missions, making up the rules as he goes along. Part of Clint starts to concede the point to Nat, but then he remembers Phil’s reaction the day they returned from Canada. “Stop it!” Natasha snaps at him, reading him too well. But Clint shakes his head. “You weren’t there, Nat. You didn’t see the look on his face when we got back. He--” Clint stops and shakes his head again. Natasha sighs. “You’re wrong. Whatever you think you saw or heard, you’re wrong.” “He was pissed. It was so obvious,” he continues to argue, refusing to let it go. “Why would Coulson be mad at you for what happened? It was the mission. We’ve both done reprehensible things in the name of the missions and no one, least of all Coulson, ever holds that against us.” Clint squeezes his eyes shut. “Not this time, Nat. This time it was personal. Rogers, he… I…” Clint stops, firming his mouth and looking away. “No, Clint,” she says adamantly. “Not at you. Phil would never be mad at you for that and you know it. If he was angry at all, it was at himself for letting it happen in the first place.” Clint hates to admit it but that does sound a lot like Coulson, actually. Still, he’s not ready to give up on his self-destructive thought pattern because he’s stubborn like that. Or stupid. Phil had reacted to what he’d seen in the elevator that day. Clint is positive of it. “Clint, you know Coulson,” Nat breaks him out of his thoughts. “Who is he really worried about?” She raises a challenging eyebrow at him. When he just scowls at her, she sighs and steps over to him, pulling him down to press their foreheads together. “He loves you, dummy. Don’t ever forget that,” she tells him. Clint closes his eyes. A moment later, she kisses him lightly on the cheek and then moves toward the door. “Nat,” he stops her just as she’s about to leave and she turns. “What happened out there today… It won’t happen again.” “I know.” Clint stares at the closed door for several long minutes, trying to sort through the conversation. He’s not able to argue against what she’s said, but not able to fully accept it either. He looks at his watch. Phil is probably still mopping up the Roosevelt Island incident, but Clint knows that even on the craziest days, he always tries to get home for at least a few hours of sleep in his own bed. He hesitates for a second, then grabs his keys and slips out of the Tower. Phil unlocks his front door and smiles when he spots Clint’s boots on the floor and his jacket tossed haphazardly over the arm of the couch. He can see the glow of the reading lamp coming from under the bedroom door and by the time he opens it, he’s got his own jacket off and is pulling his tie loose. When Phil opens the closet door, Clint rolls over and gives him a slow, sleepy grin. “Hey.” “Hey. I wasn’t expecting you.” Phil slips off his shoes and pulls a hanger off the bar to hang up his suit coat. “I know,” Clint sucks in a deep yawn. “Is it a problem?” “Never. But if I’d known you were coming I would have tried to get home sooner.” Clint shrugs. “I didn’t know I was coming. I don’t mind waiting.” Phil stops his hands where he’s unbuckling his belt. “Everything okay?” Clint grins at him, but Phil thinks he can see something else, lurking underneath. “Everything’s good. Come to bed already.” Phil slips his pants off and hangs them up too, then unbuttons his shirt and tosses it and his socks into the hamper. He grabs a t-shirt from his dresser and starts to pull it over his head. “Leave it,” Clint tells him, but when he hesitates, Clint shrugs. “Unless you don’t want to.” They haven’t talked about restarting their intimate relationship. Hell, they really haven’t talked about anything related to what happened in Canada and they probably should. Phil has no idea if sex in any form might trip Clint’s triggers and he sure as hell doesn’t want to do any more harm than has already been done. But when he drops the shirt and slides between the sheets, Clint doesn’t hesitate, rolling them so that he’s between Phil’s legs, hovering over him. A feral grin sweeps over Clint’s face and a second later his mouth is on Phil’s, tongue pushing impatiently inside. A small surprised noise escapes Phil and he gets a hand on Clint’s chest, pushing gently. “Are you sure?” he asks. Clint doesn’t answer; instead he grinds his hips down against Phil’s and Phil can feel that Clint is getting hard. His own cock twitches in response. “I… I’ll take that as a yes,” he chokes, barely getting the words out before Clint is on him again. He slots their mouths together, kissing Phil deep and wet, then flexing his hips and rubbing their cocks together tantalizingly, garnering an appreciative groan from Phil. Phil's breath hitches when Clint shifts and licks and kisses his way up to Phil’s ear, nuzzling there for a moment. He shivers and his now-hard cock twitches against Clint’s hip. He hadn’t let himself think about this – had put sex completely out of his mind, knowing he and Clint needed to have a conversation about it, but never seeming to find the right time. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it though, until just now with Clint pushing against him. He shudders with anticipating at the thought of having Clint inside him again— “I want you to fuck me,” Clint murmurs in his ear, and Phil stiffens, shocked at the words. It takes Clint a half a second to register it and then he freezes, his face still buried in Phil’s neck. A second later, Clint abruptly pushes off of him. “Clint—" “Okay then. I’ll take that as a no,” Clint says with a small, bitter laugh and sits back on his heels. “No, Clint…” “Hey, it’s okay,” he says quickly, throwing the light blanket off of himself. “I get it.” He gets up and grabs the t-shirt Phil had discarded and is out the door before Phil can even begin to piece together what just happened. He drops his head and curses quietly to himself. It’s been a long fucking day. The confrontation with Hydra had been grueling and the contents of the lab horrifying. Figuring out what to do with the children had been emotionally wracking. Phil knows he’s not in the best frame of mind for this conversation but it’s obvious it needs to happen anyway. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, then steps over to the dresser to get a new t-shirt and goes to find Clint. He’s not hard to find since he’s in the kitchen banging loudly through the drawers, looking for who knows what. Phil takes a stance across the small space, careful not to crowd him. Phil has no idea what’s going on right now but all of his alarms are pinging and he knows that one wrong move on his part and Clint will bolt. Phil just watches until Clint slams drawers opened and closed and leans both hands on the counter, back to Phil. He’s breathing heavily and his shoulders are hunched up to his ears. He gives Clint a moment to calm down before he speaks. “Okay. I guess we need to talk.” Clint snorts humorlessly. “Yeah, no. We really don’t,” he says, a bitterness in his voice as he shakes his head. “Yes, we do. We should have talked about this sooner. I’ve been wrong to avoid it. I’m sorry.” Clint shrugs. “Nothing to talk about.” He goes back to rifling through Phil’s silverware drawer. “Of course there is. Christ, Clint, what you went through was traumatic…” Clint finally turns and glares at him. “I’m not traumatized, Phil.” “Okay. Poor choice of words. But you’re fooling yourself if you think you’re not affected by all of this.” “I’m fine.” “Maybe. Mostly. But not entirely, I think.” Clint narrow his eyes with an air of warning. “Clint, no one could go through what you’ve been through and not struggle with it.” He sees Clint bristle. “I’m not struggling.” “Then why did you just offer to let me fuck you?” “Look, it’s not a big deal. I made an offer. You’re not interested. It’s fine,” Clint smiles mildly but Phil can see how his eyes are shuttered. Phil ducks his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He’s too fucking tired to contain his emotions; the anger he’s feeling again about what happened to Clint – what he let happen to Clint - is working its way to the surface. “Clint, why would you offer that when it’s not something you want to do?” he asks impatiently and frustrated with Clint’s denial. “Who says I don’t want it? Why would I offer if I didn’t?” “I don’t know for sure, but I’m fairly certain it has something to do with what Rogers did to you.” Clint jerks his head up, looking confused. “What Rogers did—? Phil, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” “Okay. How about I tell you some things that I do know,” Phil answers, trying to maintain his composure, but his latent rage toward Rogers is lapping at the edge of his control. “I know that you like to give me blowjobs,” Clint gives him a bemused look. “But only in bed where we’re lying down and never on your knees.” At that, Clint’s eyes flash darkly, but Phil continues undeterred. “I know that because there have been many, many times when that position might have been the logical option, given where we were and how things had progressed, but every time, you’ve moved things over to a bed, instead.” Clint starts to look away but Phil takes a small step closer and he stops. “I know you don’t want to be dominated in the bedroom because the one time I gripped your wrists, you pulled them away from me rather pointedly, and I know you don’t want to dominate because you’ve never once made any move in that direction. How’m I doing?” he asks, cocking his head. Clint’s face is red with agitation but he doesn’t respond. Phil steps closer still. “And I know that you really like to fuck me because you do it often and well. I know that you like to be kissing me when you come, because your mouth is always looking for mine when you do, no matter how contorted it means we have to get. Still on target?” Phil asks, raising a provocative eyebrow. Clint just glares at him, but his breath is coming in audible bursts. “I’ll take that for a yes,” he says before continuing. “What I also know,” Phil’s voice gets harder, his own agitation becoming obvious, “is that you don’t want me to fuck you, because the first time my fingers ventured anywhere near your ass you went fucking rigid and then immediately shifted positions. That was six years ago, and there hasn’t been one time since then that you’ve given any kind of indication that you wanted that to change. So, you tell me, Clint,” Phil says, narrowing his eyes. “How should I interpret your sudden change of heart? Other than as the result of what Rogers did to you?” “You're wrong,” Clint snarls, and then pushes past him and slams out the front door. Phil turns and leans his hands against the counter, dropping his head between his shoulders. “Shit,” he mutters to himself. Well. That could have gone better. He’s not worried. At least he tells himself he’s not. Clint left in his boxers and a t-shirt so Phil knows he’s not going far and that he’s most likely brooding in Mrs. Laherty’s roof garden. Clint has spent a lot of time up there over the years when he needed breathing room or had something to work through in his head. Phil goes back to bed, knowing that he needs the sleep and there’s nothing he can do until Clint’s ready to come back. Phil has to remind himself that Clint always comes back. It’s a couple hours later when Phil is woken by the soft click of the front door. He expects the bedroom door to open and is surprised to hear Clint quietly open the office door instead, and then sees the light from the room glow beneath the bedroom door. It’s quiet for a minute and he can only surmise that Clint must be standing there, just looking into Phil’s office, but he can’t think of why he would. He’s about to get up and find out when the light switches off. Phil sees the bathroom light go on next, then hears the shower start, so he settles back in and closes his eyes. He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knows, the bed dips and then Clint’s arm is slipping around his chest. Phil reaches up in his half-awake state and loosely grips Clint’s hand in his own. Clint sighs deeply. “You weren’t wrong,” he admits quietly from behind. “About most of it. I won’t go on my knees for any man ever again,” Clint says with venom. “And Duchesne used to tie me down when he was pissed at me, so, yeah, no thanks on the D/s.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Clint, I don’t want anything from you that you don’t want to give,” Phil says softly and starts to turn to face Clint, but Clint holds him firmly so he can’t. Clint presses his forehead into the back of Phil’s neck, but it’s several long moments before he says anything. “I don’t want to talk about this. But you’re right. We probably need to, so just…” he trails off and sighs. Phil waits for a minute before gentle urging him on. “Go ahead.” “It’s not… It wasn’t that bad, Phil.” Clint stops and a humorless laugh bubbles out. “I mean, it was bad, just… not in the way I think you’re thinking. Rogers… the fucking… it…” Clint pauses and makes a frustrated noise. “It was hard and fast and it was painful sometimes, but never so much that the pleasure didn’t outweigh it. I wanted it.” “It was the drug,” Phil answers, trying to stay calm, but Clint must feel him tense because he squeezes him tighter. Phil forces himself to relax. “I know that. But that doesn’t negate the fact that in the moment, I wanted Rogers to be fucking me. I don’t resent him for it and you shouldn’t either.” He knew this about the drug – that it had this effect – but that’s not really ameliorating the ire he feels toward Rogers. “Clint,” Phil squirms a little but Clint still doesn’t release him. “We talked, Phil… beforehand. And I asked him not to…” Clint sighs and finally releases Phil so he can roll over; they lie a foot apart facing each other, propped on their elbows, heads resting on a hand. “He never went near my triggers. He never grabbed my arms or held me down, he never cut off my breath. And believe me, there were plenty of times when I expected it. But he never did. He did what he could, Phil.” “But he did fuck you,” Phil points out, not able to remove the edge from his voice. Clint gives him a considered look. “Phil, you get that he was as much a victim here as I was, right? He had to do it. It was that or die, you know that. Or it was that, or shove his cock down my throat a million times like I did to him. And since I told him ahead of time that I’d rather he not do that…” Clint pins Phil with his gaze. “He didn’t go near my triggers, Phil,” he repeats. “Not once.” Phil knits his brow together. “Wait, wait. Back up.” Clint cocks his head minutely. “What?” “You said,” Phil hesitates, then pushes on past the awkwardness because, “You just said, ‘shove his cock down your throat a million times like you did to him’.” “Yeah?” “You didn’t… Um.” Clint gets it and shakes his head. “No. When we talked, before, he, uh… I said if he wasn’t comfortable with… uh, anal sex, we could… he could perform oral sex and I probably wouldn’t die. He basically blew me the entire time. Although that’s definitely putting a generous spin on what I really did.” Phil takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, weeks of rage seeping away along with it. “Okay, so I may owe Rogers an apology. But I still don’t understand why you made the offer you did.” Clint sighs and rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Because, apparently - according to Nat - I have the EQ of a garden slug.” A corner of Clint’s mouth curls into a tiny smile and then disappears before he turns and looks at Phil. “I may have thought you were pissed,” he confesses with a small grimace. “About…?” Clint hesitates, then flicks his glance uneasily away, before looking back at Phil. “For giving that to Rogers when I’ve never given it to you.” Phil can’t stop his face from contorting. “I would never--” Clint holds up a hand. “Yeah,” his stops Phil. “I know that. Still working on the circular thinking though. Garden slug, remember?” he says and this time gives Phil a small grin. Phil rolls onto his back, too, maneuvering so they are pressed against each other. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I’d score any higher than you,” he sighs. “Jesus Christ, we’re a pair,” Clint snorts. Phil huffs and reaches over, tugging on Clint until he rolls onto his side, head on Phil’s chest. Phil wraps his arms around him and squeezes; Clint relaxes into him. It feels really fucking good. Phil bends his neck and kisses the top of Clint’s head. “Tomorrow we make an appointment with Psych. Both of us.” Clint grunts his reluctant agreement. “Sleep, now,” Phil murmurs, and Clint grunts his agreement at that, too. Steve’s down in the gym working out his frustration the day after the mess on Roosevelt Island when Natasha saunters in and drops her gear near the door. He stops the bag and takes in the purple mark on her face. “How are you?” She rolls her eyes at him. “I’m fine, Dad.” Steve gives a soft snort and goes back to the bag. He learned quickly that, much like Barton – though not in exactly the same way - Natasha does not like to admit her weaknesses. “How’re you?” “I’m fine,” he answers, landing a dozen rapid-fire punches. He sees her scrutinize him and cock her head. “Are you?” Steve stops and looks at her quizzically for a moment and then closes his eyes as realization dawns. “You know?” he asks, then opens his eyes to see her weighty expression as she nods back at him. “SHIELD told you?” he asks, horrified, wishing he could go curl up in a ball in the corner, but he stands his ground. “Clint told me. There’s a difference,” she assures him. “Seriously. How are you doing?” Steve sighs and looks away. “I’m fine. I’ve got this… fucking serum in my blood to make sure of it.” He punches the bag hard and the chain breaks free, sending it flying across the gym. Natasha looks at the bag then back at him. “Physically. What about the rest of it?” “The rest of what?” She hesitates. “You tell me.” Steve huffs out a frustrated breath. “I’m fine,” he insists, hooking a new bag to the chain. “Really?” She looks pointedly at the pile of broken bags scattered around the room. “I like to box, Romanov,” he says and attacks the bag again. “Give it a rest,” he says flatly. “Have you talked to anyone about it?” He laughs humorless. “Like who? Who do you suggest I talk to about this?” He gives the bag a pointed punch. “Actually, I tried to talk to Coulson,” he admits. “It didn’t go well,” he adds, giving the bag a particularly vicious right hook. Natasha snorts. “He might not have been the best choice, but don’t worry about it. He’ll settle down once Clint gets his head out of his ass.” She sobers a bit. “I meant like Psych.” Steve stands up straight and stops the bag from swinging. He looks at her in surprise. She shrugs. “They can be helpful.” Steve looks over her shoulder into the distance for a moment. “When I was coming up, the psychiatrists were the last people you wanted to talk to if you wanted to stay in the army.” “Times have changed, Steve,” she says gently. “No one is trying to drum you out. It’s their job to keep you mentally healthy, not to find ways to get rid of you.” “Do you use them?” “No,” she answers honestly. Steve huffs. “If I need to unload I go to Clint. Or Coulson. But, as you’ve said, those aren’t great options for you right now.” Steve grunts. “Look, I’m just saying Psych is an option to consider. But, if you want to talk to a friend, I’m willing to listen.” Steve looks up at her in surprise. “You’re Barton's friend.” She lifts an eyebrow. “And I can’t be yours, also?” Steve considers her for a second and then dismisses it. He really doesn’t want to discuss it with anyone. He shakes his head. “There’s nothing I need to talk about. I’m fine,” he says and goes back to beating up on the bag. This time Natasha scoffs. “We may not have known each other very long, but I’m betting I know you well enough to know what’s going on in your head. Guilt, confusion, regret…” she says. “Am I getting close?” she asks archly. Steve scowls at her. (Barton, bent over the bunk, Steve pressing hard on his back as he pounds into him, Barton's breath punching out painfully with each brutal stroke.) He quickly moves around the bag away from Natasha as he feels his face heat - not sure if it’s from the memories or because Natasha has read him so well. “Look, Rogers, this isn’t productive,” she tells him, walking around the bag and getting into his space again. “You’ve got to find a way to cope with things or it will tear you apart.” (Barton, rigid with pain but stoic, sitting in the cockpit.) “I cope just fine,” he says defensively, hitting the bag even harder and Natasha has to duck out of the way. Natasha looks at him dubiously. “Yeah. You come down here and beat up on heavy bags and then you go back up just as tense as you were before. You need to talk to someone.” Steve gives her a pointed look before giving the bag a hard one-two punch. “I don’t need to talk.” Natasha considers him for a moment. “Maybe what you need is more of a challenge.” “Yeah?” Steve answers doubtfully, giving the bag five hard hits with his right hand, putting his whole body into each punch. “Yeah. I’ll tell you what,” Natasha reaches out and stops the bag from swinging. “Let’s spar. No holds barred. I’ll try to beat you up for what you did to my friend,” the way she says it makes it clear she isn’t really angry with him. Her patronizing tone is annoying, but he thinks about it for a second before shaking his head. “I don’t need--” Before he can finish, she sucker punches him in the temple and then swings around and gets him with an elbow in the back. He stumbles forward a few steps before straightening up and turning to glare at her. “That’s dirty fighting.” Nat smiles viciously and wiggles her fingers, gesturing for him to come at her. Steve scrutinizes her and bends his neck back and forth, stretching and cracking it, suddenly feeling much more enthusiastic. “No holds barred? I don’t want to hurt you.” “I’m not worried,” she goads him, looking entirely unconcerned. Fists fly. They’ve never sparred before and though he knows she’s good in hand-to-hand, the most Steve’s really seen of her in action is small glimpses here and there because he’s generally otherwise occupied himself. Fifteen minutes in, they’re sweating and circling each other and she’s already gotten the best of him a couple of times. He can tell that she’s getting frustrated at how he’s holding back by the way her assaults on him are getting more savage, but the last thing he wants to do is to hurt Natasha. In a flash, she literally runs up his body and wraps his neck in a thigh-hold. They drop to the floor and Nat gets one of his arms twisted up so that any movement on his part will probably mean a dislocated shoulder. Steve grunts in defeat. “You’re making this too easy, Rogers,” she laughs harshly in his ear. She’s been riding him the entire time, trying to make him angry so he’ll fight back. Steve slaps his other hand twice on the mat, tapping out for the third time and Nat releases him and is on her feet before he can even blink. When he finally gets to his feet, she leaps at him with a flying, twisting move and snaps his head with a foot to the side of his face. Steve falls to the floor then scowls up at her. “Are you seriously going to let me beat up on you like this?” she hisses, breathing hard. “I expected more from you, Cap.” Steve hops to his feet and eyes her warily, circling again. The truth is, every time she’d pinned him, he’d had no idea how she’d gotten the upper hand and he’d been surprised to find himself down and vulnerable. And he hasn’t been holding back as much as she probably thinks. “I don’t want to hurt you, Romanov.” Natasha snorts. “You think you even can?” she needles him and somehow slips behind and takes out his knee. Steve crumples to the floor. A second later he hops back up and takes a halfhearted swing that she easily dodges. “Really, Rogers? That the best you can do?” Natasha laughs and ducks down, punching him hard in the balls. Steve collapses in pain but he decides he’s had about enough and when Natasha moves to wrestle him into another hold, he somehow manages to grab her leg and flip her onto her back on the mat. He gets her pinned to the ground, straddling her chest, using his significant size difference and large hands to press her hard into the mat below. Steve leans into her face. “I don’t want to hurt you, Romanov,” he repeats, biting the words out. “Like you didn’t want to hurt Clint?” she says provocatively, then kicks her knee up hitting him square in the back, unbalancing him just enough to dislodge his grip and flip them. She scrambles to her feet immediately and lands a roundhouse kick to his face. Steve lies on his back staring at the ceiling, making no effort to move this time. He’s breathing hard when he admits, “I didn’t want to hurt him.” “But you did,” she answers, circling him. “Yes. I did,” he says quietly and closes his eyes, a new wave of self-loathing washing over him. “Agents get hurt on the job all the time,” Natasha points out, stepping close and casually poking at Steve with her toe. “Not by their own team!” Steve snaps, turning to glower at her. “Damn it!” he adds, then sits up and drops his head into his hand. Natasha moves around to stand in front of him and he raises his head to look at her. She smiles at him. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Want to talk some more or would you rather do some real fighting now?” Steve ignores her and flops back down onto the mat with a thud, one arm on his chest, the other flung out to the side. Natasha drops down beside him and rolls her head to look his way. “Better?” Steve laughs bitterly and covers his eyes with his hands. “You’re incredibly manipulative, you know that?” Natasha laughs. “Yes, Steve. I know that.” They lie for a few moments, catching their breath and not talking. Steve stares at the ceiling again. “I really hurt him,” he finally says. Natasha sighs. “It’s the job… We all know anything could happen out there, people get hurt, killed… but each of us has made the choice to do it anyway.” “Yeah. We go out and fight against Hydra or AIM or… crazy alien invaders, and I get that – we can get hurt doing it. But he shouldn’t have to worry about his own teammate hurting him.” There’s a silent pause before Natasha rolls over onto her side and props her head on her hand. “I shot Clint once, did he ever tell you that?” Steve turns his head sharply and looks at her. “You shot Barton?” Natasha nods, her face open and relaxed. “He was covering a retreat and he was grabbed when it took longer than anticipated to extract a witness. They shot him up with sodium pentothal trying get the exfil plan. It probably wouldn’t have had much effect on him except they knew they didn’t have much time and had worked him over hard beforehand – no finesse, just pure pain - so his defenses were pretty well shot. We had eyes and ears on him the whole time and Coulson and I could tell he was about to talk. But we needed another half hour to get our witness out and safe, so I shot him.” Steve stares at her wide-eyed trying to wrap his mind around the matter-of-fact way that she had just essentially told him that she and Coulson had watched and listened as Hawkeye was being tortured without doing something about it. Not to mention the last part. “Wh-where?” Steve stammers out. “In the gut. It was risky, but a head shot was riskier. And if I’d hit him in either arm or shoulder he would have killed me. Couldn’t get a sight-line on his legs,” she answers easily. “It did the trick. Put him into shock and unconscious before he could talk.” Steve continues to gape at her and she gives him a knowing smile. “He thanked us once he woke up.” Steve gawps at her some more. “I…” he starts and then furrows his brow before turning back toward the ceiling. “It’s not the same.” “Ugh,” Natasha rolls her eyes and sits up; Steve follows suit. “Do you blame Clint for the attack on the helicarrier? The one that killed 17 people? The one that nearly killed Coulson?” Steve can see her point immediately and he turns away from her. “Do you?” she presses. Steve pushes a frustrated breath out of his nose and looks back at Romanov. He can see the triumphant expression on her face. “No,” he admits. “But Barton does,” he adds, trying to win back some small point. “Actually, I’ve been beating the sense into him for the last four months, too. We’re making progress there,” she smirks. Steve groans and flops backward onto the mat. Again. “Yeah, okay, okay. I get it. Maybe. God, it’s just so…” he covers his face with his hands. “…awkward. I know you all think…” Steve stops and makes a disgruntled noise and turns toward her. “I’m not a virgin, but the things we did…” Natasha puts her hands up to stop him. “Nope, we’re not going there.” Steve startles and looks at her in confusion. “Yeah, sorry. I won’t be able to unhear that if you tell me, so…” Steve finds he’s half annoyed and half charmed by her response. “I thought you said if I wanted to talk you’d listen,” he challenges her with a note of humor. “Yeah, I meant more like, if you want to talk about the, ‘I feel so guilty for hurting my friend’ part. Or maybe the ‘I’m not gay but I had sex with a man,’ thing.” Steve shoots her a look. “I’m not homophobic,” he says defensively. “Well, that’s good, and there are a lot of people out there who will appreciate that,” she says dismissively. “But that’s not what I’m talking about.” “What are you talking about?” “Steve, you aren’t gay, but this stuff made you do things you never thought you wanted to do. That’s got to be messing with your head a little.” He looks at her uneasily and then pinches the bridge of his nose, squinting his eyes shut. “That’s not…” he looks back up at her. “Honestly, that’s not the thing that’s bugging me. I don’t know. I get that we were driven to do what we did. I knew guys back in the 40s, Romanov. Guys who weren’t really gay, but the circumstances of war tend to take some of those barriers down. I get that. It was the same with me and Barton. It’s just, on the jet--” She gives him a threatening look. Steve stops and sighs. “Right, not going there...” “Hey, good talk,” she says slapping him on the thigh, then jumps up and extends her hand out to him. “But it’s enough for now. We don’t want to get too carried away with all this feelings nonsense.” Steve reaches his arm up and Natasha grabs him and heaves him to his feet. “Come on,” she gestures with her fingers again. “And this time no pulling your punches.” “You’re a dirty fighter, too,” Natasha says an hour later as they lie next to each other on the mat again, sweaty and panting. Steve huffs. “When you grow up in Brooklyn and weigh 90 pounds, you don’t have much choice.” “Feel better?” “I guess. A little,” he admits turning to look at her. “Thank you.” Nat hums in acknowledgement. “How is he? Really?” he asks reluctantly, fearing what the answer will be. “He’s okay,” she says nonchalantly. “He’s healed. I’m still working on getting his head out of his ass.” Steve’s face clouds with the memories again. “Stop it,” Nat snaps at him. “Yes, you hurt him, but he’s recovered. And he hurt you, too, Steve. Just because you healed more quickly doesn’t mean that he didn’t.” Steve gestures dismissively. “I told you, I’m fine. Barton's got nothing to feel bad about.” Natasha makes a noise that makes it clear she agrees but that Clint is an idiot. “You’re right, but he’s sitting at home stewing about the fact that he corrupted poor Captain America…” Steve scowls and tips his head back. “I’m not A VIRGIN!” he yells at the ceiling in frustration then turns an annoyed look at Natasha. “God! Why does everyone think I’m some sort of delicate flower when it comes to sex?! I’ve had sex. A lot of it, as a matter of fact. And for you it may seem like 70 years ago, but from my perspective it was a few months!” Natasha doesn’t react to his outburst, just gives him a level stare. “You’re focusing on the entirely wrong part of that statement.” Steve gives her a frustrated look. “What?” Natasha rolls her eyes and sits up. “God, it’s like I have to spoon feed everything to you two! Think about it for a second,” she says, leaning back on her hands, apparently patient to watch him puzzle it through. A moment later he gets it. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not… that guy. He’s not real. He was made up by the propaganda machines.” “I know. Like I said, I’m still working on pulling Barton’s head out of his ass. But I think it’s time for you two to call your self-loathing, ‘it’s-all-my-fault’ competition a draw.” Steve snorts and sits up, nodding halfheartedly. Natasha hops to her feet. “Atta boy,” she says and pats his face. Steve bats her hand away and glowers at her, but she just laughs and turns on a heel. Natasha walks over and grabs her water bottle and towel from the floor where she’d dropped them earlier. She heads for the door and pushes it open, but before she leaves, she turns back, this time with a more serious expression. “If you ever want to spar again just let me know.” Then she slips quietly through the door. He stares after her for a moment, then slowly gets to his feet. He’s tired and sore from the sparring, and impressed as hell at Romanov’s abilities. He walks over to the punching bag and gives it a few halfhearted hits before grabbing it and stopping the swing. He does feel better. A little. He’s not entirely sure if it was the talking or the fighting that helped – probably a little of both. What Natasha had told him was enlightening, and he’s willing to possibly concede that Barton's physical injuries are a side effect of what they choose to do as Avengers and not something he can bear the blame for. That doesn’t really fix the problem of the inherent embarrassment of it all. The things they did… Steve wishes he could put his hand up and block it all the way Romanov did. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have that luxury. Steve sighs and makes his way to the locker room, unsure how he and Barton will ever get beyond the awkwardness. EPILOGUE: The universe must be out to get him. There’s no other explanation. “Can you can fix it?” Rogers asks from behind as he approaches. Clint makes a frustrated noise and drops the panel back into place. “No. Not without a replacement part.” They’re in a goddamned jungle where Clint has somehow just managed to execute a fucking heroic (if he does say so, himself) crash landing without killing them both. But they’re hundreds of miles from anywhere or any assistance. Just the two of them. Alone. “Did you reach SHIELD?” “Yeah. They said to let them know if we’ll need exfil but it will be at least 24 hours if we do.” “Great,” Clint mutters. He squats down and puts the tools back in the toolbox and Steve stands awkwardly nearby, scanning the surrounding jungle. It’s been three months since their exposure to the Empulcoitus, but things haven’t returned to normal between them, the mortifying memories of what they did together under the influence of the substance an always present barrier. Yes, they’re able to work smoothly together in the field – after the incident with Natasha, both of them understand that the circumstances of whatever crisis they’re facing are far more important than their own individual discomfort – but outside of work, they’re still stilted and ill at ease in each other’s presence. It’s frankly exhausting. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Rogers asks when Clint stands up with the toolbox, gesturing at the cut along Clint’s left eyebrow. He has a bruise on his cheekbone that appears to be fading already. “Fine,” he assures the other man, brushing him off with a flap of the hand and then wincing. When they’d impacted, he’d been gripping the steering column hard and his left wrist had jammed painfully. He can move it, so it’s not broken, but it’s definitely a bad sprain. He uses his right hand to reach across and swipe at the blood on his face. The wound is still seeping a little. “You should let me dress that.” “I can take care of it,” Clint answers, probably a little too sharply, but the last thing he wants is to be crowded into the small med bay with Rogers’ hands on him. As an unspoken rule, they still like to keep as much distance between them as possible. “Thanks, anyway,” Clint adds, feeling guilty for sniping at Rogers’ genuine offer of assistance. Rogers hesitates for a second and then tells him that he’s going to scout the area and Clint acknowledges, feeling inordinately relieved about it. Once he’s gone, Clint makes his way through the rear hatch and once inside, he stows the tools then heads to the med bay and the stocked cabinet there. All of this is threatening to bring up disconcerting memories and Clint clamps down on them as soon as they threaten. He grabs the wound kit and takes it over to the sink with the mirror above it, perfunctorily cleaning the cut and putting a butterfly bandage on it, hoping it will suffice. When he’s done, he goes up to the cockpit and logs into the comms. Phil’s face appears within seconds. “Hawkeye? What’s your status?” His tone is completely professional, and Clint can tell he’s distracted – what’s going on with Clint and Rogers isn’t the most pressing thing at SHIELD right now. There’s a lot of background activity as half of the agency has mobilized on this op. It was supposed to be him and Kennedy taking Natasha to her infiltration point in Colombia today, but the moron had eaten some bad oysters the night before and Rogers had been sent in as a last-minute substitution. “A rotor blew. Not gonna be able to fly this thing out of here without a new one. If you can get me a replacement, I should be able to get us airborne again.” “Sabotage?” Phil asks, tense. Clint shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Didn’t see any signs of it. Just bad luck, I think.” He sees Coulson relax fractionally. “We won’t be able to get anyone there for at least a day. You’re stuck for now. I suggest you stay put and wait.” “Yeah,” Clint says with resignation. “Injury status?” “I’m fine. May have sprained my wrist. No big deal,” he shrugs. “And the blood running down your face?” Phil asks wryly. Clint swipes at his face and his hand comes away bright red. It’s so fucking hot and humid here and he’s sweating so much that he hadn’t even registered that the wound was still bleeding. “Huh. Guess maybe I need a couple sutures.” “Go take care of it, Agent. We’ll try to have a part there by 0900 tomorrow. This channel will stay open if you need anything,” Phil says low and quiet and with a bit of affection. A fuzzy warmth works its way into Clint’s belly. “Yes, Sir,” he acknowledges and cuts the connection, but Phil is already gone, back to working the mission. Clint returns to the med bay and re-cleans the wound, then takes out the suture kit, but when he tries to grip the tiny needle for the fine work, his injured hand shakes and he finds he can’t quite do it. Damn it. When Rogers comes back twenty minutes later, Clint is waiting outside in the bright sun. “So, I guess maybe I could use a hand,” he says, lifting the gauze from his head to reveal the weeping laceration. “I think it’s going to need a couple sutures, but…” he holds up his left hand, now tightly bound in a compression bandage. “Sure,” Steve answers easily and goes immediately for the first aid kit that Clint has already set nearby. It’s brightest outside, so it makes sense for Steve to sew him up here. It has the added bonus of not requiring they be cramped into a small space together. “See anything useful out there?” Rogers shakes his head and snaps on the nitrile gloves. “Nothing but a lot of jungle,” he replies, carefully wiping the blood from around the cut. “On the bright side, I didn’t see any threats, either.” He pauses a few seconds later and looks at the cut then turns his gaze down to Clint’s eyes. It’s obviously just where his eyes are naturally drawn, but Rogers seems to suddenly take note of how close they are and he flushes deeply, his eyes skittering away. “I’ve only done this once before. It probably won’t be a neat scar,” he says, remarkably calmly given how clearly uncomfortable the man is. Clint huffs. “It’s fine. Just do it.” He’s got more scars on his body than he can even remember getting, and a lot of them are uglier than anything Steve’s likely to give him. Steve hesitates again. “Is there anything for the pain?” Jesus, no amount of physical pain could be worse than being in such close proximity to Rogers. All Clint wants to do is get sewn up and get the hell away from him as quickly as he can. “It’s fine,” Clint repeats, taking care to remove the edge from his voice. Rogers nods and gets to work. ** Clint spends most of the rest of the day high up in a tree, keeping an eye on the surrounding terrain in case Rogers was wrong about there being no threats. It’s what he would normally do, regardless of the circumstances, but in this instance, it just so happens that it has the added bonus of keeping him far from Rogers. He’s certainly not going to complain about it. Rogers yells up to him every hour or so to check and make sure he’s still there since he can’t see Clint from below, and busies himself at the computer, studying maps and monitoring the op. At nightfall, when he can’t see anything anymore, Clint carefully eases down the tree one-handed and makes his way back to the jet. Rogers is still in the cockpit on the computer – for a guy from the 1940s, he’s picked up modern technology incredibly fast, no matter what Stark says. Clint doesn’t stop, instead passing by in favor of the small galley, where he eyes the sole source of food with distaste. They don’t exactly stock the quinjets with gourmet supplies and it’s not like they’re going to change SOP because Clint has bad associations with the standard-issue provisions. He knows he needs nutrition and fluids, so he sighs and grabs a couple of the protein bars and a six-pack of bottled water. He’s tired. He’s been awake for going on 22 hours and it’s fucking hotter than hell in this jungle. And humid. He’d love to stretch out and get some sleep but the only bed on the jet is the one he and Rogers had fucked on a few months back. Yes, the mattress has been replaced – it can’t possibly have been salvaged after what they’d done to it - but he still doesn’t have any desire to go anywhere near the bunk bay. He makes his way to the rear hatch bay instead and slides down the wall to sit on the floor. Once there, he opens a protein bar and chews mechanically, alternating with gulps of water. When he finishes the two bars and three bottles of water, he pulls his knees up and drops his head down onto them. A few minutes later he hears Rogers walk in and Clint lifts his head in time to see the other man position himself across from him and slide down the wall to mirror Clint. He stiffens reflexively, wondering why Rogers has chosen this space instead of somewhere else. When he peers over, Cap has his ‘resolute’ face on, which Clint interprets as Rogers trying to prove to himself that he can be in Clint’s presence. Clint resigns himself to doing the same. He acknowledges Cap with a small grunt and then leans his head back against the bulkhead and closes his eyes. Fuck. Fucking Empulcoitus. He and Rogers had been building an easy friendship before everything happened and it’s been shit since then. They can barely look each other in the eye and Steve gets skittish like a nervous colt whenever Clint’s in the vicinity. Not that Clint’s any better. Frustration wells up in him. He’s so sick of this shit – he wishes like hell that they could just move past it. He hears Cap shift across the space and crack open a bottle of water, then guzzle it down. Clint’s tired. He’s sick of the situation. He’s done with it all. As his frustration turns over and over in his head, he has a sudden, impulsive idea. He peers over at Rogers, who seems equally lost in his own thoughts and Clint weighs what his reaction might be. But, fuck it, it’s not like things could be worse than they are now. And, well, humor has always been Clint’s go-to method of dealing with the shit life throws at him, so... he makes his decision and shifts, straightening his legs out in front of him. Cap sees the motion and looks over. Clint sets his shoulders and gives Rogers the most innocent look he can muster. “Hey, Cap, remember that time you and I spent a whole day fucking each other?” Rogers freezes. Then his eyes go owlish for a second before he blinks. Twice. Clint sees the moment Cap gets it and relaxes a tiny bit, a smile twitching up on half of his mouth. “I seem to remember something about that, yeah,” Rogers says slowly, as though testing the waters. “Yeah,” Clint nods. “That was weird,” he deadpans. Rogers tries to hold it together but after a few seconds his face cracks and he barks a laugh. Clint grins and it grows into a snigger, setting Rogers off into a peal of laughter. They feed on each other and pretty soon, they’re both clutching their sides, laughing uncontrollably, faces red and gasping for breath. After a few minutes, they manage to gather their control. “Hey… hey,” Clint wheezes out. “Did you.. did you see…?” Clint’s laughing too hard to finish. It takes a minute, but eventually Cap gets his breath. “What? See what?” “The wet spot, Cap. The wet spot!” Clint manages between breaths. “It was fucking huge!” Clint cackles again. “We musta dumped four gallons of come on that bed!” Cap blushes furiously and then drops his head into his hands, groaning in embarrassment, but his shoulders are still shaking. A second later he looks back up. “That stuff was… I mean, that wasn’t normal, how much…” “Oh, ya think?” Clint howls. “You know, that was kind of disgusting, when you think about it,” Steve tries to deadpan but can’t quite do it. Clint rolls over clutching his sides. “Kind of disgusting when you think about it,” Clint echoes, barely getting the words out through peals of hysterics. “How… how was that possible?” Steve asks rhetorically, knowing that the science behind it was beyond them. Clint cackles and sits up again, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Cap, but, Jesus, I don’t ever want to do that again.” Rogers nods his head in agreement. “Hey, um, afterward… did you get…?” “Random hard-ons?” “Oh, God. Yes!” Rogers slaps his hand over his eyes and cringes at the memory. “I was hoping maybe that didn’t happen to you.” He peers through his fingers looking sheepish. “I was out running in Central Park the day after we got back—” Clint’s eyes go wide and he barks out a laugh. “It wasn’t funny!” Rogers protests, but he’s laughing despite himself, his face creeping red again. “Oh, dude, it really is,” Clint sniggers. “Hey, at least yours didn’t make you pass out from pain,” he quips, then immediately regrets it when he sees Rogers’ face cloud. Shit. “I’m really sorry for hurting you, Hawkeye,” he says before Clint can stop him. Clint shakes his head vigorously, still catching his breath. “Don’t start with that, Cap. It is what it is and you didn’t want it any more than I did. Besides, if anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.” “You? Why?” “Jesus, Cap, because I… Because you’re not gay.” Rogers shrugs awkwardly. “It wasn’t—” he stops and then starts again. “That’s really been the least of the things on my mind.” Clint raises his eyebrows in surprise. “It wasn’t so much the fact that it was gay sex that bothered me, as it was the sheer excess of it. It was just so… disturbing.” Clint can’t stop himself from laughing again, because that’s the understatement of the fucking century. Rogers smiles then his shoulders start to shake again. A moment later, his face turns more serious again. “Can I ask you a question?” “It depends. You’re not going to go all doe-eyed remorseful and shit on me, are you?” “No.” He gives Clint a muted glare. “It’s just… there’s no one to talk to about this. No one who could possibly understand.” Clint nods his agreement. “What do you want to ask?” Rogers looks down and shakes his head a little, then looks back at Clint. “It’s just, the things we did… I don’t… I’ve never wanted…” he stops and sighs in frustration, staring at his hands for a few seconds before looking back up. “That just wasn’t who I am. It’s hard to understand how I could have…” Clint nods slowly. “Yeah. I know.” Clint’s thinking of the quinjet, but in the back of his mind a blue glow flickers. “I know. I don’t think there’s any making sense of it, Cap. And trying to will just make you crazy. It was the drug. Period.” Rogers sighs. “You’re probably right. And Natasha says we should call our self-loathing competition a draw,” he says with a small smirk. “Nat got to you, huh?” “Mm hmm,” Rogers nods his head with a wide-eyed expression. Clint laughs. “Well, she’s one of the smartest people I know, so, okay, Rogers, I’m good with calling it a draw.” Rogers grins and tips his head back against the bulkhead. “Don’t you think it’s about time you called me Steve? I mean, like you said, we did spend a whole day fucking each other. Seems like that should put us on a first-name basis.” Clint blinks. “Right. Yeah, that… seems about right. Yeah. And, you know. Call me Clint.” Steve snorts and jerks his head up and down a little. Clint narrows his eyes. “So, we’re good?” Steve looks at him through slitted eyes, then gives him a small smile. “Yeah, we’re good.” “Awesome. ‘Cause, you know, the last few months have really sucked.” Steve snorts again and nods. “Really sucked,” he agrees. They both lose steam after that, but things, thankfully, don’t get awkward again. Clint sighs audibly and they sit in easy silence for a few minutes. He’s tired. Hell, he was tired before all this started and now he’s just more so, and he doesn’t relish the idea of spending the night on the floor of the rear landing bay. “Fuck it,” Clint says and stands up stiffly. Steve looks at him with curiosity. “Look, I’m fucking tired and I’m not spending the night sleeping on this hard floor,” he explains as he passes Rogers. He hears Cap scramble to his feet and follow, but when they get to the sleeping bay, Cap stops at the door. Clint doesn’t hesitate before he walks over to bunk, pulls the lever to drop it down, and flops himself onto it. “Aaahh, yeah, that’s better,” he groans, glancing back at Steve. “Cap, you can sleep standing up for all I care, but if you wanna share half this bunk, I promise not to molest you.” He sees another small grin flicker on Rogers’ face and when he starts to move to the bunk, Clint slides over and rolls onto his side facing the wall. A second later he feels the mattress jostle as Cap takes up occupation on the other side. Clint yawns deeply. “G’night, Steve,” he says and closes his eyes. “Good night, Clint,” Cap returns easily. END (sort of... one more short chapter--->) ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The dim room is a hive of muted activity, two dozen people bent over computer monitors tracking the ground team or running analysis of the radioactive emissions. Steve stands in front of the large-screen television monitor and runs a weary hand down his face, trying to focus. He’s tired. He’s been up for going on 42 hours, the one constant in the mission room, while others have, by necessity, slipped away for a few hours here and there, returning slightly rested, freshly showered, and highly caffeinated. Steve could go for a cup of coffee, but he doesn’t want to leave his post. There’s too much at stake, with agents – including Barton and Romanov – still in a precarious position. But things are going as planned and the mood of the room – though vigilant - reflects that. “Captain Rogers,” a gentle voice startles him and he glances sideways, surprised to see Agent Coulson standing at his shoulder. “Yes, Sir?” Steve blinks at him, confused, because Coulson’s working analytics, not monitoring ground activity like Steve, and since their awkward conversation in the cafeteria a few weeks ago, he and Coulson haven’t spoken unless it’s been necessary for a mission. “I thought maybe you could use this,” Coulson says, extending a large to-go coffee toward him. Steve looks at the paper cup and then back at Phil, hesitating for a second, but then reaching to take the hot beverage. “Thank you, Sir,” he says, mouth already watering in anticipation of the bitter gold. “You’re welcome.” Coulson gives him a small, but warm, smile and then moves back over to his own station. Steve stares after him, perplexed at the apparent olive branch he’s just been offered and unsure what he’s done to deserve it. But he’s also relieved and more than happy to accept it. He eases the lid off the cup and smiles; the coffee is black and piping hot. Perfect. He sticks his nose over the cup and inhales, grunting in pleasure at the rich aroma. Twenty-first century coffee is so much more satisfying than the Depression- and War-era swill he'd been raised on. Impatient, he snaps the lid back on and takes a long swallow, groaning happily as it scalds his tongue and burns the back of his throat.
10754391	We Are HUMANZ	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": "Murdoc Niccals, Stuart \"2D\" Pot, Russel Hobbs, Noodle (Gorillaz), Paula Cracker, and all their collaborators eventually", "Fandom": "Gorillaz", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "2/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-28T00:00:00", "words": "8,644", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Human, Stuart is blind, he never got the nickname 2D either, Murdoc isn't abusive in this AU but he's still an ass, Russel is Noodle's caretaker, Majority of the band's antics that has to do with paranormal isn't a thing in this AU, also I didn't plan to make this 2Doc because I don't ship it but it just happened", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Murdoc Niccals/Stuart \"2D\" Pot, Paula Cracker/Stuart \"2D\" Pot, Paula Cracker/Murdoc Niccals", "Series": "HUMANZ AU", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "F/M, M/M", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Murdoc hated his life. Scratch that, Murdoc completely despised his miserable life. From day one it had been shitty, with his mother disappearing and his father drinking too much and having the wonderful joy of using him as a punch bag, only to later on be joined by his older brother, Hannibal, who picked up onto his father’s habits. Murdoc wasn't one to give love and be a happy little pastel flower in a field of putrid roses, but he still had a bit of conscience. He was an asshole, there was no way better to describe him, but… yeah… no, no buts. He was an asshole. Satanism to him came like some sort of revelation. Like his mindset was fitting perfectly with the cult’s “policies”. He genuinely felt more accepted, and in the end, that's what he was looking for. Acceptance. His father and brother never gave him that. When his mouth slipped an important secret, that, hey, boobs are nice, but dick is too, he never stepped into the Niccals’ home ever again. Whether he liked it or not. The satanic preacher welcomed him, though, not only in the cult, but in a new life. Giving him an apartment, helping him out with little deeds, the man has been like a father to him and it made Murdoc realize perhaps life wasn't so shitty. Well, that was until the old man died, of course. Which got Murdoc being all alone again. The preacher helped him a ton throughout the years, got him in different musical lessons, though singing was never his thing, but he ended up loving bass more than anything. His dream to become a famous musician came from when he was very young and only when the preacher helped him, he learned anything at all. All that he had left from him was an upside-down golden cross. Things only got worse after he died, getting in trouble with money, his last resort being stealing. He didn't live life day by day from then on, he lived it minute by minute, sometimes second by second, because at any point he could fuck up his life even worse than before. He wasn't proud of what he had become. He felt filthy. And while he was there, at his worst, he still joined random bands, as if they would end up being the perfect match for him, though it was never the case. They were never perfect. They just always got him into more trouble. He had been eyeing the emporium for a while now. There was no way he would be able to steal anything from there, it was too big, too noticeable. It was so much out there that even taking a pick from it would be too much. Still, he went there often. There was this worker there that always caught his attention. He always sat into the keyboard section, or behind the cash register. He hadn't thought much of him until he heard him hum a melody while Murdoc was browsing the bass section, which was right next to the keyboard one. The man’s voice had something… he couldn't put his finger on it, but ever since he heard it that time, he wanted to hear more. Which brought him to hang out at the emporium almost every day. At least only during the worker's shift. He never had the courage to say something to him, though. Murdoc was a mess, the guy wouldn't want anything to do with him, nevertheless sing for Murdoc’s nonexistent band. He also learned that his name was Stuart. Earlier it was mentioned that he had some conscience. Well, only a bit, because if he had more, he wouldn't have thought it would be okay to ram his car into the emporium. The crash had him going fairly okay, honestly. The emporium had glass walls from the ceiling to the ground, so it was easy for him to just slam in. But he had realized too late that he had hit someone in the meantime. Murdoc internally panicked and scrambled out of the car. This wasn't part of the plan. When did the guy come out? Fuck , he thought, then walked to the front of the car to see who he crashed into. Stuart . Murdoc fell onto his knees by the man who was unconscious, against the wall. “Dude, shit, are you okay? Wait, dumb question, you're fucking unconscious.” Murdoc spoke fast, holding Stuart in his arms. The owner of the emporium came out and had seemingly called the police. Everything around him seemed to move way too fast while he felt like he was moving in slow motion. He heard sirens, someone took Stuart from his arms and forced his wrists into cuffs. Before he knew it, he was pushed into a police car. -- “I was very tired and I almost fell asleep, then before I knew it, i slammed into the emporium.” A lie. But he didn't need his ass in prison. And the little lie saved him from that sentence. Instead, he was sentenced to take care of Stuart for 300.000 hours, since the man was in a coma and no one else was there to take care of him. The man suffered a severe blow to the head, which caused him to get an eight ball fracture, meaning that the man also lost his sight. So even if Stuart woke up, it would be hard for him to take care of himself as he would be completely blind. It was okay taking care of the man. He got used to living into Stuart’s flat, it was peaceful. Stuart had a lot of books around the flat. He must have really enjoyed reading. It was his fault that the man would not be able to read anymore. “Hey, man, you really should have your books in, like, one place and shit. Like a bookcase. For fuck’s sake, I keep finding them in the most random places. One day I'm gonna find them in my arsehole.” Murdoc complained. The satanist couldn't help but notice a small twitch at the corners of Stuart’s mouth to form a smile, and Satan be damned if Murdoc didn't smile as well. It would be inhuman for him to just not smile at that. There was this particular day that went by too slow. Murdoc just didn't know what to do. He was bored out of his mind, even playing bass got boring. As he paced around the bedroom, he ended up tripping over a book. He didn't fall, but he swore loudly, then picked up the book. “Effin’ hell, how did this get here?” Murdoc mumbled. He stared at the cover and furrowed his eyebrows. “Edgar Allan Poe, huh? Ain't he the guy who was talking to ravens and crap?” Murdoc shook his head then sat down on the chair by the bed. This gave him an idea. He opened the book and began reading from it. He was reading aloud, of course, so Stuart would hear it as well. After that, it became a habit. Murdoc would read 2D a book every day. Sometimes he wouldn't finish a book in a day, so he would continue in the next one. Sometimes Stuart’s lips would twitch and his expressions would change slightly, depending on what Murdoc was reading. Other times his hands would move ever so slightly, but no movement went unnoticed. Days, weeks passed by and Murdoc felt more alive, all because of an unconscious man in the bed whom he was reading to or playing bass to. And the most he'd receive were small twitches or smiles. That was until Stuart woke up. Murdoc hadn't even noticed at first when the man opened his eyes. “I feel dizzy..” the boy mumbled. “It's probably ‘cause of the light… wait a second. Stuart?” Murdoc’s brows shot up in surprise when he heard him speak, heart racing with excitement. “Who… who’re you? Why.. can't I see?” Stuart asked, feeling disoriented. “Your voice is so familiar..” “I'm… uh… I'm Murdoc, I am taking care of you. And… well, you can't see because you hit your head really bad and fractured your eyes.” Murdoc stuttered the explanation quick. Satan , Murdoc thought. He had to wake up now, didn’t he? “Please rest, mate. It’s gonna suck if you get up or move now.” Stuart seemed very confused, and Murdoc couldn’t blame him. This was a little bit annoying, because Stuart just didn’t want to lay back the fuck down . “I recognize your voice! You… I kept hearing you in my dreams!” Stuart exclaimed, almost jumping from the bed, which ended with him whining and groaning, moving his hands to grab his head. “Dreams?” Murdoc furrowed his brows. “Yeah! ‘T was like.. Someone with your voice was reading to me, like, all of my favorite books, and even those I didn’t like…” Stuart explained, his voice more quieter than before. Murdoc groaned a little, but there was some warmth in his chest over the simple fact that he remembered reading to him. “I… yeah, I was reading aloud while you were in the coma, so I guess… you heard me?” Murdoc had his fingers hanging over the edge of the bed, his eyes scanning over the now blind and awake man in the bed. He felt sort of happy that Stuart was awake now. Silence followed after. When Murdoc looked up, Stuart’s eyes were closed. He was sleeping again. Murdoc pursed his lips then licked them, before he slowly got up from the chair he was sat on, going outside to smoke. -- For a year it was only that. Stuart would wake up for a few minutes, Murdoc would get to talk to him, then he'd fall back into slumber as if he never awoke in the first place. That reason only got Murdoc to smoke more. The need of nicotine in his lungs grew more desperate with each awakening. He hated how easily he was gaining and losing the man, he just wanted him to be awake for good. The day he knew Stuart was awake for good was the day the man himself got out of bed. The reason why? Murdoc was playing a melody on bass, a tune he couldn't identify well, but he played it many times. Murdoc barely registered Stuart’s keyboard being plugged in then turned on until a soft voice began to hum along while the keys accompanied him. The familiar voice, the pure perfection of rough and soft, of high and low, of fast and slow. His mind associated it, shamefully, with sex. Pure, lustful sex, so sinful and so good. It took a while to register that Stuart was singing his lyrics. The ones he wrote down on pieces of paper scattered across the floor, imperfect, ugly, but somehow Stuart’s voice made it so perfect. When they finally stopped, Murdoc was speechless and Stuart was breathless. “Finally… I got enough of this unfinished melody.” Stuart laughed, a little choked, leaning back on the chair behind his keyboard until he hit the wall, somehow gently. “What’s the name of the song? You kept muttering the lyrics while you were writing them, so I only got that, along with the melody.” Stuart’s empty gaze towards him, which reminded Murdoc that the man was blind, was like a dagger to his lungs. “Ghost… Ghost Train.” Murdoc was so taken aback by everything about this man. “How… how did you…” “I have migraines during the night, and since I can't stand any sort of light, I got used to plugging and playing this keyboard blindly.” Stuart explained. “And… I dunno, I feel like I hear things way louder now, that I could… metaphorically see my way around the house.” A quiet ‘ah’ escaped Murdoc’s lips and he set down his bass. “Your voice is… so… good. Look, I know this is sudden, bu-” “Yes, of course I want to. This was… too good to just let it go.” Stuart closed his eyes and faced the ceiling. “You just… you played these songs while I was asleep and they got stuck in my head and I was so desperate to add something to it… by the way your singing sucks.” Murdoc couldn't help but burst out laughing at the blind man’s last statement, having to hold onto his stomach with how hard he was laughing. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes and honestly, he couldn't get the hysterical sensation he just got, but hearing Stuart laugh with him brought warmth into his heart, something that happened often with him around, but rarely with anyone else. -- “Yo, Stu, did you see that?” “Uh… Murds… I'm blind.” Stuart leaned against his cane. “But I sure as hell heard it.” The blind man grinned as he pushed up his blacked out glasses up his nose. “You think he's gonna really join us?” “Man, I don't want to think I wasted hundreds of dollars buying us the studio and arranging it for completely nothing, and if my prayers to Satan worked in any way, he's totally the one.” Murdoc leaned on Stuart’s side as they watched a black man play the drums like he was possessed, which Murdoc seemed infatuated with, as he was when he heard Stuart sing and play keyboard. “We need him, he's the only one.” “If you're so sure…” Stuart chuckled and leaned his head on Murdoc’s. “Will he finish soon?” “Hopefully, the wait is making me want to kick his drums in his face.” There was a faint annoyed growl in his tone which made Stuart shake his head a bit. “Okay, it's done. Let's go.” Stuart didn't even care that Murdoc almost fell from him just starting to walk towards the drummer, cursing loudly behind the man. Stuart ignored him and stopped in front of the man known as Russel Hobbs. “Hello there, I'm Stuart Pot, and the arsecrack behind me is Murdoc Niccals.” Stuart said with a smile. “You're blind.” Russel stated as a matter of fact, his eyes narrowing at the brown haired man, then at the black haired one behind him. Stuart raised a brow, a small smirk coming on his lips. “That doesn't make me less capable of playing keyboard or singing, but certainly makes me incapable of playing drums, y’know?” “What about the goth weirdo behind you?” Russel asked. “He's as incapable as a man born blind.” “Hey!” Murdoc interjected angrily. “Fuck you. I'm not incapable, I write songs and play bass, I already do enough for this band.” “It doesn't even exist yet, Muds.” Stuart sighed. “But we both would like for it to exist. We need a drummer, though. And we arranged to meet up with a guitarist, but we are not sure about keeping… uh… her.” Stuart’s eye twitched at the thought of Paula’s words of ‘ Mmm, blind men turn me on ’. Yeah, they would have to find a new guitarist immediately after. There was a long pause, the black male seeming to think deep and hard about his choices here. “Okay… fine. I'm in. Do you guys have a studio?” Russel looked up at the two men with a slight smile. “Hell yeah we do.” Murdoc grinned when he spoke. “It’s a nice tall building with many rooms and a perfect recording studio, which is perfect because it was designed by moi , and rooms for all of the members, which, I certainly plan for them to be only four, if you get what I mean.” “That’s cool, dawg, so I suppose you have most things settled?” Russel finally got up from behind the drums. “But… Ya know, there’s a lil’ bit of an issue here. I have, uh… a girl in custody, ‘cuz I was good friends with her grandpa back when I was touring in Japan. So… I have to bring her with me.” At that, Murdoc brought his hands to his face and began pinching the bridge of his nose, letting out a loud sigh. Before he could open his mouth to say anything, though, Stuart chimed in. “She can stay. Since we don’t know if the guitarist we are bringing in will actually stay with us, there is room for the girl. How old is she, though?” “She’s ten. She doesn’t speak English very well, though, so I’ll have to translate what she says most of the time. I also never really caught her name, so… feel free to call her Noodle. She likes that name.” Stuart chewed on his lip for a few moments before nodding. “Okay.” Stu snapped his head towards Murdoc, the slight glare coming from the taller man making the satanist nod in agreement. “Yeah, she can stay. Fine.” he grumbled quietly. Stuart smiled at Russel and brought out his hand, though it was facing the side of Russel. The black male still moved a bit and grabbed Stu’s hand to shake. “We have a deal then. We’ll come and pick you up in a few days.” The blind man nodded his head and moved backwards, tapping his cane loudly on the ground while he moved towards the exit, Murdoc quickly following after him. As soon as they were out and walking towards their vehicle, which was an old RV that Murdoc acquired, better known as the Winnebago, Murdoc stepped in front of Stuart, putting both of his hands on the taller’s shoulders. “Okay, what the fuck were you thinking? A child to live with us? What if this whole thing goes well and we have to tour? And if we collaborate with people, having them over at our studio would make things awkward when we also have to deal with a young girl?” “Murdoc, as much as I want to agree with you, I have to remind you that you wanted Russel in our band. If you want him so desperately, accept the kid too. If you don't, we're gonna look for another drummer. Got it?” Stuart’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses and Murdoc squeezed the man’s shoulders before finally letting him go, quietly muttering an apology. “Besides..” Stuart grabbed Murdoc’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “She might just brighten up our lives more than anything.” “Alright, alright, I get it. Fine. She will stay with us. Can we go back home now?” Murdoc pulled his hand from Stuart’s grip, stepping backwards. Stuart let out a sigh, but nodded, starting to walk towards the Winnebago, Murdoc following close behind. Murdoc took out his keys and opened the door to the Winnebago, letting Stuart go in, then went to the driver’s seat, turning the engine on and driving away, back to their home which they gladly called Kong Studios. -- Murdoc was tapping his fingers impatiently as he stared at Stu, his expression showing off the anger he felt. A little girl was giggling as she moved the thankfully not permanent marker closer to Murdoc’s face to draw another dragon. “Stu-san? Uh… what.. does you think?” Noodle asked as she glanced over at Stuart, who chuckled. “You know I can't see, little love. Why don't you go find Russel to show him your masterpiece?” Stuart was facing the area where Murdoc and Noodle were, but not quite towards them. “ Hai !” she exclaimed excitedly. The little girl didn't even bother to tell Murdoc she was going to bring him along, she just grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the kitchen where Russel was preparing them lunch before Murdoc could protest. The girl was very strong for a ten year old, but she was at least somewhat careful. She tugged at Russel’s shirt, saying something loud in Japanese, then pointed at Murdoc’s face. Russel couldn't hold back a laugh as he ruffled the little girl’s hair, asking her something in Japanese to which she immediately shook her head. “Good girl.” Russel smiled, then glanced at Murdoc. “Go wash your face. Lunch is almost ready. Bring Stu with you, alright?” Murdoc groaned and pulled his hand back as soon as Noodle let it go, walking back towards the bathroom, only to meet with Stuart in the hallway. “Hey… lunch is ready. I'm going to the bathroom to wash my face.” Stuart stopped in his tracks, right in front of Murdoc. It seemed like he was staring down at him and Murdoc couldn't help but think Stuart could see him in that moment, even though he knew for sure the man couldn't. Stuart opened his mouth to say something, but stopped, his mouth closing slowly, brows furrowing as if he was in deep thought. Murdoc stared. He felt like that was the only thing he could do at the moment. “Right… uh, talk to you at lunch.” And with that, Stu left. Murdoc chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments before he finally continued making his way to the bathroom. He washed his face multiple times with cold water, only now feeling somewhat more awake and lucid. But after a few moments he realized he didn't need that, he needed to be drunk. He needed to, because sober he couldn't shake the memory of the recent events. -- Murdoc didn't know what he felt when he heard the loud moans coming from Stuart’s room. He was leaning against the wall, his hands in his hair and for a while he thought he might cry. He didn't know why, though. Thinking of Paula’s hands all over the blind man, it made him feel sick. Sure, he knew the girl really liked the singer, but… Man, did he fall in love with her so easily? Murdoc eventually left, his head spinning with thoughts he wished he wouldn't have had. The next day Murdoc got flirty with Paula. He got the chance to, since Stuart was busy teaching Noodle a few words in English and some grammar. For a moment he thought fondly of them, but when Paula was leaning against him, all his thoughts left him. He grabbed her by the hand, taking her to the closet, kissing her, touching her. It was everything he wanted. ...or was it? The moment Stuart opened the door, Murdoc’s heart was in his neck, pulling his pants up as fast as he could. The tears in the man’s eyes made Murdoc feel so sick, burying himself deeper in the closet. Paula was giving bullshit explanations, but Stuart didn't have any of it, he moved backwards, sobbing, and eventually fell to the ground. Stuart started screaming “Get out! Get out of this fucking building, you fucking whore!” and it was then Russel busted into the room. He kicked Paula out and pulled Murdoc out of the closet, instantly punching him in the face. In that very second Murdoc began questioning why he did it in the first place. He didn't actually want Paula, did he? -- Murdoc barely registered that he punched the Mirror, shards from it digging deep into his skin. Don't cry. Don't scream. Don't call for help. No one will come and save you. A dark part of his mind chanted like it was some sort of mantra he needed remember for his whole life. Murdoc sighed, pulling what shards he could from his hand before slowly making his way to the kitchen. He didn't even look at his bandmates, or Noodle. He just went to the fridge and grabbed a beer from it, then slammed the door shut. “I'm not hungry, go ahead and eat.” Murdoc mumbled while he went to grab a bottle opener and opened his beer. “Dude, your hand is bleeding, what the fuck happened?” Russ asked, concern clear in his voice. Stuart perked up, but he didn't know where to look. Murdoc ignored them, taking a long swig from the beer, then heading out the room. “Murdoc-san, please… stay with.. our… iie us!” Noodle was clinging to his leg, looking at him almost desperately. Murdoc shook his head and gently pushed her away. “Luv, Murdoc has some business to take care of, so I can't stay.” Murdoc explained and ruffled her hair with his good hand. “Like… um.. you do- did with girl?” Noodle asked and Murdoc had to use all the power in his will to not slap the girl across the face for even bringing the incident up. Murdoc sighed quietly. “No. All alone, I don't want anyone around me now.” Murdoc said and finally walked away. He took another swig from his beer before he entered the Winnebago. He went to sit in his bed, pressed against the wall of the RV, staring at the ceiling. He didn't know why he went to the kitchen to grab a beer, his mini-fridge was filled with it. Maybe just to see if they would care about him, after what happened. A knock on the door startled him from his thoughts. “Murdoc, open up, we need to talk.” It was Stuart’s voice. “Right now. Or I'm coming in myself. Murdoc sighed audibly and got up from the bed and went to open the door. He was ready to flee back to the bed, but Stuart grabbed his arm before he could go anywhere. The man first helped himself up in the Winnebago, then tilted his hand down to look at Murdoc and pulling him to the bed himself. “Murdoc…” Stuart started, his expression serious. Murdoc was looking anywhere but at Stuart. “Look… I just.. I want to know why you did it.” “Because…” Murdoc started, trying to pry his arm away from Stuart’s grip, but it was too strong, and he felt so weak. “I couldn't stand the thought of you.. and her.. doing things. I heard you two, the night before the incident,I knew you two shagged and..” Murdoc stopped himself before he could say something idiotic. “Muds…” When hearing that nickname, Murdoc realized just how much he missed it, how much he missed him . “I… you know she meant nothing.” “And you know she meant nothing to me either!” Murdoc snapped, but quickly sank into himself. Silence. Murdoc couldn't breathe, he felt like there were hands around his neck, suffocating him. “Muds… Murdoc, I'm… I'm sorry.” “Why the fuck are you apologizing? I was the one who fucked everything up! I ruined everything. Everything!” Murdoc wanted to be alone so bad in that moment. “I… I'm just… I'm sorry because I never gave you the chance to explain. I treated you like the worst guy in the world when the only thing we both did was release our frustrations, quite literally, in some bloody whore.” Stuart grabbed both of Murdoc’s shoulder and his glance was a little off from his face. Murdoc couldn't hold it any longer. His head fell into the other’s chest as small sobs filled the quietness of the Winnebago. Stuart wrapped his arms around Murdoc’s body, holding the elder gently, muttering soft comforting words while tears streamed down the bassist’s face. After a while, it was silent. Stu was carefully threading his fingers through Murdoc’s hair while Murdoc squeezed the singer in his arms. “Hey, Muds?” Stuart’s voice felt like honey when he spoke, and Murdoc could only glance up at him and hum curiously. “How about we forget what happened? Since neither of us meant it, it would be fair if we just move on.” Murdoc didn't even hesitate to nod, moving back a little when he lets go of the blind man. “Yeah, we can, kinda… start over. Alright, Stu?” “Of course. We're starting over.” -- Eventually everything fell into place and Stuart and Murdoc were closer than ever. They found out that Noodle was a rare talent, as she could play guitar flawlessly. So they didn't need Paula anymore. It was just the four of them. When they started recording their first album, things were messy, but so much fun. They were laughing and poking fun at each other, Noodle wanted to record a line or two for the album, so of course they let her. Stuart learned the lyrics by having Murdoc read them to him as often as possible, so he had no issue singing them. Russel had quite amazing rapping skills, said he learned from his best friend back in Brooklyn where he was from. He didn't seem very comfortable talking about his old friend, so they never pressured him into telling them what happened. The album was going to be amazing, everyone was sure of it. In their quiet days, Murdoc would sit with his head on Stuart’s shoulder while reading a book aloud to him, the singer holding Noodle in his arms, who was also listening intently. Russel was in the armchair, sleeping with a quiet snore. “Muds-san? Can you.. move the book here, so I can.. read with you?” Noodle asked quietly. At that, Murdoc shuffled closer, Stuart wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and Murdoc sat Noodle in his lap and put the book on her knees. “This is a pretty hard book, no pictures. Are you sure, little luv?” Murdoc asked and Noodle nodded excitedly, putting her finger over a word, eyes squinting a little as she read it aloud. Murdoc chuckled and continued to read along with her, now having Stuart’s head resting on Murdoc’s shoulder. -- “...Murdoc?” Stuart asked quietly while he kept his head buried in Murdoc’s chest. They were in Stuart’s room a few weeks of their finished tour with a massively successful record, Murdoc would often find himself hanging around with the blind man, and it was no different that night. Murdoc was twirling strands of Stuart’s now blue hair (which the blind man dyed at his own demand) and his eyes trailed down until they found the singer’s head. “What's wrong?” “Nothing, I've just been thinking-” “Woah, woah, don't do that, you might hurt yourself.” Murdoc chuckled which earned him a hard nudge in the chest. “Be serious for a minute, will you?” Stuart huffed and shook his head. “But… I've been thinking… about a lot of things. And, well, pretty much all of them involve you.” Murdoc froze for a moment. His eyebrows knit together in confusion as he pulled back to look better at the man in his arms. “What do you mean?” Stuart sighed, bringing his hands carefully up to the bassist’s face, his thumbs ran gently over the man’s cheeks. “I think… I feel things for you, and only recently I've realized I felt them.” Stuart spoke quietly, his voice giving away the anxiety he felt about this situation. Once again, Murdoc felt his heart in his neck, unable to speak for a while. “I… just… I don't kn-” “Kiss me. I want to know.” At Stuart’s words, Murdoc didn't even skip a beat and pressed his lips against the singer's. The kiss was nothing like they described it in movies or books. Both men’s lips were rough and chapped, pressing hard, almost desperate against one another. There weren't any sparks or explosions, there wasn't anything spectacular about it. But they still felt it . That damned feeling, it was definitely there. The two were like magnets, now that they were close enough they wouldn't come apart unless they were forced to. And there wasn't any lust in the kiss, just the feeling that both of them were still afraid to put a name to. They clashed and collapsed together into the bed, while all of the answers they needed came pouring as their lips parted and came further together. They never spoke of the incident. Not because they wanted to hide it, but they just didn't have to speak about it. Because, really, the text changed nothing between them. Besides a few stolen kisses and a lot more hand holding, but otherwise there was no difference between how they used to be and now. -- When Noodle got a little older, she wanted to write their next album all by herself. And they couldn’t stop her, there was no way they could. So they helped her, she composed songs with Stuart and Murdoc (though sometimes she would do it by herself, that's how DARE was created.) They all felt very proud of her. When collaborators started coming in, she was the most professional of them all and instantly earned respect. Recording the bass for Feel Good Inc. was perhaps the most fun song they've ever recorded, the guys from De La Soul started a prank war with Murdoc, Russel and Noodle, and Stuart was keeping track of the score. It started with tame pranks, just little fun things, then it got more progressive and elaborate, like changing the strings of Murdoc’s beloved guitar El Diablo with long plastic elastics, or changing the rap lyrics in various ways. They stayed almost a month in Kong Studios because as soon as they finished recording they would be shooting the music video, which was as hard as it could get, since it had a CGI floating windmill island and a room filled with screens and bodies. And when they started recording the video, a challenge war replaced the previous prank war. They were all giving each other dumb challenges like who could drink coke faster, or singing Feel Good Inc. backwards (which Stuart did flawlessly.) A final challenge was for Murdoc to put the most sexual show during the times he was filmed. He left everyone but Stu speechless, since the singer could not see him, but hearing about it made him want to be able to see it. Still, it was all very fun and the band couldn't help but feel sad that the guys from De La Soul had to leave. But they were sure they would collab again in the future. Times were good until now, but hard times had to come as well... ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- One day Noodle invited Stuart over to her room, telling him that he needed to learn to protect himself, in case anything bad happens. It was somewhere around the middle of the winter, Murdoc recalled, and ever since then they've been training every day. Which reduced the time Murdoc and Stuart spent together. Murdoc didn't mind all together, since it was really for the best, he knew Noodle was right. But he still missed having the blind man around all the time. When he did get some time with Stuart, it was somewhat sweet. Murdoc always had a bad temper, so he'd often found himself yelling at Stuart for nothing. But somehow, Stuart never got mad at him. He never got scared. He knew far too well Murdoc would never hurt him. Murdoc wondered if he would ever push the limit. -- “We need to talk.” Noodle leaned with her arms on the knees. She was sixteen, but so much more mature. Murdoc leaned back in the armchair and glanced at Russel and Stuart who were on the couch. “I want to go back to Japan and rediscover myself. As much as I love you guys, I really feel like I need to see where my roots come from. So… as soon as tour is over, I'm leaving.” Stuart gulped audibly and Russel scratched the back of his head, neither of them able to accept the girl was now mature enough to make her own decisions, and that she was really keen on leaving. “You're too young to leave by yourself.” Murdoc pointed out, raising a brow at her. “But if you wanna leave, go ahead. Abandon us.” Murdoc said accusingly and he brought his hands together, tapping his fingers against one another. “I'm not abandoning you!” she immediately exclaimed. “Sure thing.” Murdoc rolled his eyes and finally got up from the armchair and walked to the door. “You're big enough to make your own decisions, so do your thing, I won't stop you.” Murdoc said before heading down to the Winnebago. A little later, Stuart came to visit him. He went to sit by Murdoc on his bed, but Murdoc moved as far away from him as he could. “I know why you came.. please just spare me the scolding, I know.” Murdoc rolled his eyes. Stuart moved closer, wrapping his his arms around the bassist, running his hand through Murdoc’s hair carefully. “I’m not gonna scold you, I understand.” Stuart placed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “It’s hard to accept that she wants to leave us, and who knows when she will come back.. But you said it yourself, she’s big enough to make her own decisions. We can’t hold her back.” Murdoc leaned his head into Stuart’s chest, sighing quietly. “I just don’t want to lose any of you guys. But I --.” “I know.” Stuart muttered, lifting Murdoc’s hair from his forehead and pressing another kiss to his forehead. “But you know I need you, so I won't ever leave you. Okay?” Murdoc couldn't hold back his smile, leaning his head up to press his lips against Stuarts. “We'll work it out.” he said after he rested his head into Stuart”s lap. “Somehow, meeting you has made my life go from awful, to amazing.” Murdoc chuckled and brought his hand up to Stuart’s cheek. “I love you.” -- “Russel said he's leaving with Noodle.” Stuart said as he sat down on the couch beside Murdoc. Murdoc didn't answer. He didn't want either of them to leave, but at least it was better if his little Noodle left with someone everyone in the band trusted. Wait. Backtrack. Did Murdoc just mentally call the young japanese girl “his little Noodle”? He never thought he would have grown so fond of her. That made his heart ache a little more. Part of his family was going to be away for a long time. Family. Yeah, that's what they all were. A family. -- Murdoc ended up spending as much time as he could with the whole band. Even on tour, he'd always try and find ways they could spend more time together. Everyone appreciated it, even though sometimes it got annoying. Stuart’s training didn't stop even on tour, but it wasn't as intense. It helped a ton, though, Stuart definitely managed himself on stage better. -- Tour ended and Noodle left with Russel to Japan. So it was, once again, only Stuart and Murdoc. They didn't mind… for a while. They felt like they were on a sort of a honeymoon for around a year, it made them get to a point where they would either bicker about who left the toilet seat up to quiet nights when they would watch television and sit in each other's arms. But the world seemed to love to fuck with Murdoc, in the sickest ways possible. “Murdoc, put the bottle down.” Stuart glared towards Murdoc, but Murdoc paid no mind to him as he downed another bottle of rum. Murdoc picked up drinking as soon as they decided to move on this tropical island that Murdoc bought when he realized he had way too much money he wouldn't use. He made it look nice, but it was eerily abandoned. He didn't do it because he finally achieved paradise, no. He did it because as soon as they moved, he got a message. Noodle was killed in Japan. To sum the message. Murdoc didn't know how to cope. Stuart wasn't doing great either, his little best friend died, their drummer was nowhere to be found and, more importantly, Murdoc was falling apart more and more each day. “I said… put the bottle down. Stop drinking. Please .” Stuart begged. The bottle wasn't dropped, though, it was thrown against the wall, making Stuart shriek in fear. Hearing that, Murdoc didn't know how to react but to grab another bottle and drink some more. “Murdoc! Listen to me!” Stuart cried. It was too late, Murdoc was gone. -- When Murdoc ran out of rum, things got… better. In a way or another. Stuart was afraid to go anywhere near him, but he still agreed to write a new album. But they couldn't do it only the two of them, so Murdoc used his contacts to get artists to collaborate with them. “Plastic Beach.” said Murdoc as he leaned against the table. “That's the name of the album.” Murdoc looked at Stuart for an opinion. “As you wish.” Stuart’s voice was monotone. He busied himself with the hem of his own shirt. Murdoc frowned. He hated himself for falling apart so hard that he ruined the best thing he had in his life. He wanted alcohol, but he couldn't get any more. At least he didn't allow himself to. “Are you sure you're okay with this?” Murdoc asked, voice filled with worry. “Sure.” Murdoc hated this so much. -- “Broken…. Our love is… broken…” Murdoc heard Stuart’s voice from his room while he passed it, piano music accompanying it. Murdoc didn't bother knocking on the door, when he noticed it was unlocked, he just walked in. He didn't say anything for a while, he just listened. Stuart definitely noticed him, but didn't stop singing. “Is it far away.. in the glitter freeze? Or in our eyes, every time they meet?” Stuart kept singing. Murdoc instantly knew what the song was about. It pained his heart. “It's by the light of the plasma screens. We keep switched on all through the night while we sleep.. There's nothing you can do for them. They are the force between, when the sunlight is arising.. there's nothing you can say to him, he is without a heart.. and the space has been broken.” And then back again with the chorus. When Stuart was done, he stayed with his hands on the claps, staring blankly ahead. He was holding back tears, Murdoc could tell. If he could only remember what he did to him in his drunken stupors… “I know…” Stuart’s voice cracked. “I know you don't remember. But I just… give me some time, it will hurt less.” Stuart sighed. “...I still love you, I promise.” Murdoc couldn't stand being there anymore. He left the room as soon as Stuart was done speaking. He could faintly hear the other crying. Murdoc felt like he was falling apart again. -- Murdoc was laying in bed, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the ocean. He didn't even hear the door open, but soon enough he felt arms wrap tightly around him, a familiar heat covering his body. “I miss you.” Stuart said quietly. Murdoc opened his eyes and looked down at Stuart. His hair was a mix of faded blue, blonde and light brown, perhaps the most beautiful mix he's ever seen. It faintly reminded him of the ocean. Murdoc brought his hand up to gently thread his fingers through his lover’s hair. Was he still his lover? “I'm not gonna leave you alone again, I promise you.” Murdoc said quietly. “You're the last thing I love that I still have..” Stuart only nodded. They were both holding back tears this time. -- “There's no way…” Murdoc muttered under his breath as he dropped the basket of fruits he gathered from around the island. Beaten up and tired, but still the same… Noodle and Russel. They must have noticed him because Noodle took no time to sprint over to Murdoc, jumping and tackling Murdoc to the ground. “Murdoc! I missed you so much!” the little japanese girl said cheerfully. Murdoc laughed, but tears also left his eyes when the little girl hugged him tightly, which he returned immediately. “You grew so much, Noodle, you look beautiful.” Murdoc gently swayed her back and forth as he squeezed her in his arms. Russel watched them amused. “Where's Stu?” Noodle asked as she looked down at Murdoc when his grip on her loosened. “Oh, right, he's recording the instrumental for a song right now. He's with the guys from De La Soul in the studio, I was going to… uh…” Murdoc looked at the fruits sprawled on the ground. “bring them some fruits since they've been working hard all day.” “Oh! Right! Let me help you!” Noodle instantly got up and grabbed all the fruits and put them back in the basket. “Let's go, Murdoc!” Noodle grinned, grabbing Murdoc’s hand and pulling him up. Murdoc chuckled at the girl's excitement and took the basket back in his arms, but Russel immediately took it from him. He couldn't help but notice Russ was awfully quiet, but thought nothing of it for now. Murdoc guided the two to the recording studio where someone was singing faintly, and it did sound a lot like Stuart, but Murdoc knew it was actually Gruff. Noodle didn't realize it, though, she burst into the recording room, going straight for Gruff, only to stop in her tracks before she tackled him to the ground. “You're not Stu…” she said disappointingly. “....Noodle?” Stuart’s disbelieving voice came from the closet where they kept some equipment. “Is… is that really you?” the blue haired man stepped out of the closet, trying to search for the source of the voice. “Stuart!” Noodle squealed as she went to hug him as tight as she could. It didn't take either of them very long to end up crying while they tightly held onto each other. “Is Russel with you as well?” Stuart asked when they calmed down a little. “ Hai … uh he's here he just can't…” Noodle looked at Russ and the man quickly gave her a thumbs up. “Uh… he can't speak anymore, his vocal cords are broken.” Murdoc stared at Russ, frowning. So that's why he wasn't speaking. Murdoc went to the De La Soul guys and Gruff and explained the situation, sending them back to their rooms. “What… what happened? We were told that you… that you were killed.” Stuart asked quietly. “We might as well have been.” said Noodle bitterly, an attitude Murdoc and Stuart never expected from the girl. “It started out with a nice month in Japan. We visited a ton of places. Then I found out my family had some ties with this horrible mafia deal in Japan, and… that was the reason most of my family was killed. The Mafia found out that I was the only member of my family still alive, and me and Russ got chased around Japan.” Noodle explained. “So that's why you look so beaten up..” Murdoc pointed out. “Not quite… we did get caught. It was horrific, instead of going straight for the kill, they captured me and Russel and tortured us until we…” Noodle pauses and brought her hands up, making hair quotes. “Spilled everything we knew. Probably why they sent you that letter too. They fucked with Russel’s neck when they realized he'd be no use for talking, and used it as a way to get me to speak about something i didn't know. And then… they told us they set our house on fire and that there were no survivors, they showed us pictures, so we thought you two… but we still had faith and believed they were only messing with us. Which was, in fact, the case.” “How did you get out?” Stuart asked, moving in closer. “This guy…. Boogieman, or something like that. Agent Boogieman, said he knew my family really well and rescued us. I think he has a hacker background, because they virused all of the mafia’s servers and things started blowing up and he pulled us out and told us you're alive and that you're here. It was hard to get to you, but… here we are.” Noodle grinned, grabbing Stuart’s hand and squeezing it. “How about you two? What happened while we were gone?” Murdoc shifted uncomfortably. “Well… we broke up, that can be considered the big news.” Murdoc spoke quietly. “And we also started working on a new album.” Stuart added quickly after. The silence that followed was heavy, Noodle and Russ were staring daggers into Murdoc and the satanist wanted to scream. They were waiting for an explanation. “I… had a pretty bad fall out after I found out you were dead, so… I picked up drinking and I was mostly black out drunk until I ran out of alcohol.” Murdoc explained. When Stuart felt Noodle tense and her hands formed tight fists, the girl assuming the worst, Stuart grabber her and held her down, then, as if he was able to see for the moment, he glared towards Russel. “Don't dare put the blame on him. He didn't do anything bad, it was just a mutual agreement that after he went sober again we just didn't work anymore.” Stuart was gritting his teeth. Murdoc was shocked. He thought he would have let the two beat him up, he was so ready for the worst. Instead, the blind man was protecting him, taking his side. Noodle let her guard down, but she was still glaring at Murdoc. “So… you two aren't…” Even Noodle couldn't believe what she was saying. “It's my fault..” Noodle frowned and rubbed her face with her hands. “No, no it's not your fault at all! I suppose it was bound to happen eventually, me and Murdoc didn't work that much.” Stuart said and the sincerity in his voice felt like a stab in the heart to Murdoc. “But…” Noodle started, but Stu immediately shushed her. Murdoc felt like he was suffocating. He took almost no time to sprint out of the room, he wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, and he truly didn't know what he did wrong to get there besides drinking himself almost into a coma. He stopped and leaned forward against the wall, wheezing, his hand clutching tightly onto his chest as he repeatedly punched the wall with the other one. Pain shot up through his fist, but he didn't stop hitting. “Dawg, the hell you doin’?” A familiar voice came from behind him and grabbed his arm to stop swinging at the wall. “What happened back there? Ain't ya supposed to be comin’ out happy and shit from out there? Like squad reunion or whatever?” David asked. Right, the De La Soul guys were still here. “I'm fine.” Murdoc mumbled and pulled his hand away from him, but immediately winced at the pain. “Fam, you don't look good at all.” David sighed. Murdoc shook his head and slowly sunk down to the floor, moving back to lean against the wall. His hands went to his face and he rubbed his eyes. He barely even registered that David sat next to him. “Boyfriend problems, I guess?” the black male asked. Murdoc sighed in exasperation. “It's kinna hard to accept that your bird wants to leave, y’know? Not even fly away. You prolly thought you're the only birds on the branch, but a branch is like… really long and he can move a bit to the side “ “He said that it was bound to happen, that he knew we were gonna break up.” Murdoc mumbled. “Harsh, dawg. But did you too?” Murdoc paused to think about it. Did he? “...No. I actually haven't… I thought… I thought he'd be the only amazing thing in my life.” Murdoc spoke quietly. David hummed thoughtfully. “It's hard, man. But sometimes you gotta accept stuff. It's gonna hurt for a while, then you'll find someone else and it won't hurt anymore. An’ yea, they won't be like him, but they might be what you really need in the end.” Murdoc was quiet for a few good moments before sighing quietly with a small nod. “Thanks. Like, not only for the advice, but that you bothered to listen to me and stuff.. You're a great guy.” “No problem, dawg. You're a friend, and you always gotta help friends.” David grinned and nudged Murdoc’s shoulder. Murdoc let out a small laugh and hit the man’s arm on a somewhat gentle manner. -- Watch your empire crumble down, broken God.
10781829	A Promise Kept	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Hermione Granger, Original Male Character(s)", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by Inell", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2006-07-21T00:00:00", "words": "2,117", "Additional Tags": "Erotica, Heterosexual Sex, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "The Quidditch Pitch", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Author's notes: For cunning_croft's request and because I've been promising her this pairing for forever and a day. I hope you enjoy this one, love! hugs Today was the day he was finally going to make love to the woman he’d fancied since he was thirteen. It had taken him a dozen years to get to this point, but Dennis had always been tenacious and stubborn, especially when there was something he really wanted, so he‘d waited without even realizing he was waiting for her. He’d wanted Hermione Granger even before he actually knew what wanting meant. It had been hopeless, of course. He’d been a third year, scrawny and short, and she’d been a beautiful young woman of seventeen, a sixth year who treated him like a sweet boy, never seeing the crush he had on her during her remaining two years of school.It had been a crush. Feelings he didn’t quite understand at the time, thoughts of her suddenly turning a gorgeous smile on him and defying everyone by admitting she fancied him and didn’t care that he was short, thin, and almost four years younger. It had felt like he’d been hit with a dozen hexes when he’d caught her snogging Weasley, his heart breaking into a million pieces as she smiled that smile at a rude, obnoxious, brainless oaf who didn’t deserve her, wouldn’t worship her the way he would. It hadn’t taken long before she’d realized what he’d known all along, and he had to admit he’d feel rather smug knowing she and Weasley wouldn’t last despite being young and rather naïve about such things.After she left Hogwarts, he’d not forgotten her, but he’d grown up, decided it was just a first crush, an infatuation with a girl who had always treated him kindly, listening to him, a brilliant and beautiful woman who was amazing and special and talented and so many other wonderful things that he hadn’t been able to help fancying her, even if he‘d wanted. He’d tried having relationships with other girls, but none of those had worked out. He was always comparing them to his ideal, to his Hermione, and they never quite measured up.Looking back now, he had to admit he might have more in common with Colin than he’d ever want to admit. Colin had been obsessed with the Boy Who Lived while he, well, he’d been obsessed with the best friend of the Boy Who Lived. He could acknowledge that obsessed fit his behavior during his third and fourth years. He knew her schedule by heart. He knew the days she’d walk alone by the lake, lost in thoughts of her parents and War and studies.He knew she preferred her tea with a drop of lemon and, when she was indulging herself, two drops of honey. He knew she bit her fingernails when she was studying or lost in thought. He knew things that no one else had ever noticed because people tended to not really pay attention to her for some reason. Even Weasley with his immature bickering to get her attention hadn’t known that she often sat beneath a willow tree and cried silent tears for whatever thoughts plagued her mind at the time.In a way, he was glad she hadn’t really noticed his attention back then because he’d been a bit of a scary freak. He’d been young, confused, and had just felt so many things for her that he’d not known what to do besides watch and learn. He’d tried flirting with her, but she’d just laughed and ruffled his hair, telling him with a sweet smile that some girl was going to be very lucky when he was older. He’d known then it was hopeless. She would never see him as anything except little Dennis Creevey.Her last day at school, before she was going off to help Potter fight a War that he was too young to help win, he’d found her beneath the willow and he’d told her he loved her. When she’d been gaping at him, clearly stunned by his earnest proclamation, he’d kissed her. It hadn’t even lasted a minute and he’d fumbled and his lips hadn’t quite hit hers, but it was his first kiss and it had been perfect.Before she’d had a chance to reply to his declaration, he’d told her with all the confidence of a somewhat brash fifteen year-old that he was going to find her in a few years, when he was older and he knew it was the right time. He told her that he’d make her as happy as she deserved to be, sincerely telling her he planned to worship her and love her, if she’d let him. He’d smiled, feeling much better after telling her his feelings and declaring his intentions, and kissed her swiftly once more, the second kiss a bit more accurate, before walking back to the school. She’d never said anything about his vow, giving him a brief hug and kiss on the cheek before leaving Hogwarts.It had taken him nine years to make good on that promise. After a couple of years, he’d started to wonder if it had just been infatuation. He’d dated, shagged, grown up, and somewhat moved on. Yet she’d always been lurking in the corner of his mind. As he got older, he realized just what a scary little horror he must have been, stalking her and snogging her without permission. It was a shock she’d not hexed him silly.It had been six months ago, nearly a decade after he’d made that declaration, before he’d run into her again. He’d somewhat kept up with her; she’d been his first love, first crush, first kiss, after all. He knew she was still single, had heard Colin mention that Harry and Ron weren’t sure she’d ever stop working long enough to find love, and he’d ignored the stirrings of boyish desire that had him tempted to find her and see what might happen between them now, when age was just a number and he was no longer the scrawny little pest who wouldn’t leave her in peace.Fate was such a funny thing. He’d been shopping in Muggle London, wanting to find something unique for his brother’s Christmas present, and he’d caught sight of unruly brown curls that had looked like the perfect mixture of toffee and honey. In an instant, he’d know it was her even without seeing her face. He’d wanked many times thinking about that hair being spread out over his pillow and her crying his name as she came over and over when he was younger so he recognized it anywhere.When she’d turned to look at another shelf, he’d felt the same stirrings only they’d been the desire and lust of a not quite twenty-five year-old man and not a silly little boy. She’d blushed when he’d approached her, knowing him just as he’d known her, despite the changes ten years had wrought. She was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, her heart and intelligence just adding to the natural beauty that was constantly overlooked. He’d asked her to go get coffee or tea, smiling what he’d hoped was a charming ‘I’m not an obsessive little wanker anymore’ smile, and she’d surprisingly agreed. Coffee had led to dinner and dinner had led to a friendship that had slowly grown into something more.They weren’t the same people they’d been. He was taller, a bit more filled out, quietly confident and not so brazen and obnoxious. She’d seen the horrors of war personally, shadows haunting the corners of her eyes, and it didn’t matter that Voldemort had been dead for eight years, she still thought about what she’d seen and what she’d done because she wasn’t the type to just forget killing even during battle. He’d had a crush on a friendly, caring, pretty girl with caramel curls who made him feel special because she listened when he spoke and had the prettiest smile he‘d ever seen. However, he’d fallen in love with a caring, gentle, jaded woman with haunted eyes and caramel curls who made him feel special because she let him past the walls she’d built around her heart.It had taken him a dozen years to get here, his path to where he truly belonged crooked and meandering, but he knew now that it was time. She knew, too. Lying on the blanket before him, their picnic lunch forgotten as his hands tenderly caressed her body, her eyes not leaving his face. His brown hair fell across his forehead as he moved closer, his actions fumbling, hesitant. It wasn’t his first time by any means but it was their first time and he was scared and excited and it felt like everything was new again.She tasted of lemonade, cheese, and Hermione, his tongue tentatively deepening the kiss, wanting everything to be perfect for her. This was their beginning, a start to the future he’d promised her a decade ago, a promise he’d never imagined being fortunate enough to keep. Their clothes were removed, tossed on the grass around their blanket, bodies fitting together so well. He worshipped her with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his body. His eyes on her face as she shattered around him, his tongue continuing to tease until her fingers were tugging on his hair, urging him up and into her.“So beautiful,” he whispered, his voice that of a man who knew what he was lucky enough to have and not that of a silly boy with a crush. Her face was flushed, sweaty, lips red from his kisses, her eyes glazed, quiet moans and whimpers accompanying his first thrust. She was so wet, warm, tight, and he blushed as he spilled into her after a half-dozen strokes. Burying his face against her neck, he kissed and sucked her skin, wanting anyone who saw her to know she’d given herself to him, that he was hers, his hips still rocking against her, wanting to please her, to make up for his lack of control. He muttered an apology for not lasting longer against her throat, her hands tracing the lines of his back as she moved against him, her voice soft in his ear as she told him it was okay.He knew she understood, knew she was aware that next time he’d last longer and he’d make her moan and scream. It had been too much, finally having the woman he loved beneath him, and now he was more determined to make it good for her since he’d ruined the perfect with his premature release. His hands moved between them, finding her wet and tense, rubbing and squeezing, nibbling on her ear as his chest moved against her breasts.When Dennis felt her starting to tremble, heard the soft gasps of breath, he raised his head, watching her face as she came around him, growling softly when he heard his name on her lips. Afterwards, he held her close, his fingers moving over the curves of her face and body, brushing sweaty hair from her forehead, pleased by the sated smile on her lips and the gentle look in her eyes that were no longer quite so haunted. He kissed her, touched her, loved her, still unable to believe she was here in his arms.“I’ve loved you since I was thirteen,” he told her softly, his finger moving to rest against her lips so she couldn’t interrupt. His eyes looked into hers, a smile crossing his lips as he continued, ignoring the light rain that had begun to fall. “But I didn’t fall in love with you until these past six months. I made you a promise ten years ago, Hermione, and it‘s finally time for me to keep it, if you’ll let me.”He waited nervously, suddenly more vulnerable than he’d been since he was a boy, preparing himself for any possible outcome. Instead of speaking, she studied him a long time, still basking in the afterglow of their union, and then she slowly smiled that smile, the one that told him she fancied him and wanted to be with him and didn’t care that he was nearly four years younger and hadn’t lasted five minutes once he’d been inside her the first time and that he was still far too scrawny and not as tall as most of the men in her life. And then she kissed him and missed his lips slightly and it was a bit fumbling at first but then he moved and kissed her back and it was perfect.
10716435	Two in Solitude	{ "Archive Warning": "Major Character Death", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Choi Seungcheol \| S.Coups, Hong Jisoo \| Joshua, Lee Jihoon \| Woozi", "Fandom": "SEVENTEEN (Band)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Versevere", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-24T00:00:00", "words": "9,440", "Additional Tags": "Angst, Established Relationship, powers", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Choi Seungcheol \| S.Coups/Hong Jisoo \| Joshua, Choi Seungcheol \| S.Coups/Lee Jihoon \| Woozi", "Series": "Supernaturals", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Seungcheol “Today marks 500 days, Seungcheol. Did you know?” Seungcheol ran his fingers through thick, golden locks of fur, smiling at the golden retriever that was panting in enjoyment from his company, along his lover of apparently 500 days now. They were at the dog cafe, Jisoo’s chamomile half gone while Seungcheol’s citron tea was still full to the brim, thin wisps of steam escaping from the yellow mug. It was a tactic to stay at the cafe for as long as possible without ordering enough to run down their paychecks —Jisoo’s paychecks mostly, since he was the one with the more reliable income, working full-time in a decent company—and be surrounded by dogs. Seungcheol’s apartment didn’t allow for pets, and Jisoo wasn’t confident he would have enough time for one, so they satisfied Seungcheol’s desires by coming to the cafe for their dates. “That long already?” Seungcheol asked, more from amazement than disbelief. “Do you think we should do something special?” “Like what?” Jisoo asked while beckoning a dalmatian with his outstretched hand. When the dalmatian came close enough, he scratched its chin. “Spending a few hours more than usual here?” “No, I mean something really special.” “Really special?” Seungcheol hesitated, his heartbeat slowly increasing in frequency and magnitude, suddenly aware that this was the moment he had been waiting for. This was the moment the words were supposed to come out when they had been hiding under his tongue for some time, never fully ready to jump out. He inhaled, made eye contact with the golden retriever to gather his mental strength, and then exhaled. He looked his lover in the eyes, his own hardened with resolve. “Let's move in together, Jisoo.” He didn’t know why that particular memory surfaced in the face of death, but it did. Maybe it was one of his happiest, most peaceful moment, despite the rattling nerves he faced. Maybe it was the final memory he wanted to remember, the most important part of his life flashing before his eyes. “We need more bandages! There’s more wounded coming in!” There was an unpleasant smell in the air, of blood and antiseptic and dust. He could hear footsteps and urgent utterances fill the suffocating air, a voice shouting at him without him understanding what was being said. Pain in his chest overshadowed any other sensation he might have had, and he wondered if it was the cause of the suffocating sensation he was feeling. Cracking open his dusty eyes, the pain in his chest nagging at him more than the pain in his eyes from the invading dirt, he looked down to see a dark garnet spread across his uniform. At first he was in denial that it was his own blood, but the warmth of his clothing and the hasty behavior of the nurse beside him told him otherwise. As she pressed down on his wounds with a towel, he slowed down his breathing. He had been shot twice in the chest, one of the bullets too close to his heart for him to hope that he would make it out alive. He closed his eyes, too tired to resist the doom he faced, ready to accept eternal rest with open arms. Tension in his body fading was fading away as the nurse’s screams became duller, and he could feel the sun envelope his skin even through the thick tent. There was no shame dying in battle. Even if he died after just reaching the golden age of twenty, even if others found him pitiful for not being able to live the following grad years to come, Choi Seungcheol, representative from Daegu, would die a hero. It was that final thought that left him in peace. ~~~~~ He didn’t how long he slept, but it was much less than forever like he had anticipated. Seungcheol inhaled deeply, allowing air to force open deepest corners of his lungs as if he hadn’t breathed for ages, his body aching dully as he did so. He woke up, his eyes fluttering open when he remembered where he was. Even when all signs were against him, he woke up in the medical tent he last saw before what he thought would have been his final look at the world, his breathing confirming that he was indeed alive. But something was off, considering he was still on a battlefield. Even without telling how long he had been out, there was a still silence surrounding him, hauntingly lingering in the air, so drastically different than the chaos he fell unconscious to. “Hello?” he called, clearing his throat once after hearing his rusty voice, before sitting up, surprised that the pain in his chest was gone. Stretching the bullet holes in his uniform with his fingers, he noticed that there was still blood dried on his skin. There was blood, but when he picked away the scabs from the small opening, he couldn’t find a wound. Not that he thoroughly searched for one, since he didn’t know exactly where he was shot, it was strange that he didn’t feel pain, unless he was already in the afterworld that looked disappointingly like Earth. But he was sure he was alive, but somehow, with no way to explain it, he had healed. Intrigued, he wanted to test a theory that promptly formed in his head, that perhaps he had the power to heal at a monstrous speed. Not that there was any logic to his theory, but he wasn’t one to deny that the world contained supernatural beings. He thought that, recalling his eighth-grade injury that kept him on a cast for six weeks, his powers must have developed upon reaching adulthood. He was finally the golden age of twenty, after all. Maybe he was one of a special few, and being in a medical tent, he could surely find sharp supplies to test this. He turned to look for the nurse he remembered, but his sense of curiosity was replaced by a sense of dread when, instead of nurses running around the tent in a frenzy like before, he saw their bodies motionless on the floor, spilt blood around them. Without having to closely examine them, he knew they were dead. Killed. This wasn’t a matter of killing other soldiers, other living weapons. It was a matter of murder. A terrible feeling dawning on him, Seungcheol couldn’t let out his voice, nor could he move his self. His terror became a barrier, not because it was his first time seeing death, but because someone attacked the medical tent when even in war it’s off-limits. The doctors and nurses, who volunteer to save lives that could be salvaged despite the potential danger they faced, were mercilessly slaughtered. Even the wounded soldiers on the bunks were vacant of life, and Seungcheol wondered why he was spared. Maybe it was that the attacker thought it would be a waste of a bullet to shoot a seemingly dying man, but it didn’t excuse their actions. Not in the slightest. Seungcheol wanted to know who it was they were fighting. Who was it that was so greedy for victory that they decided to kill the innocent? From that point on, Seungcheol returned to the battlefield to fight. To defeat the evil that looked down on the rules of war. Though he never was able to discover the culprit, he was able to survive to see the victory of his country, and it wasn’t necessarily satisfactory enough to quell Seungcheol’s rage, but it was likely the best reasonable outcome he could have asked for. ~~~~~ Jihoon Next up in tonight's news, there has been yet another fire in the city, making this the second this month. Police suspect that it is the work of serial arsonist “Cinder Fingers”, but unfortunately, there are still no leads on who this arsonist may be. If anyone has any information that they think may be helpful to this investigation, please call- The news reporter was cut off with a click when the television was turned off. Jihoon scarfed down the remainder of his breakfast of french toast, only having half paid attention to what the reporter was saying. There was something more interesting occupying his mind. “Don’t eat too fast, honey, or you’ll get indigestion,” chimed his mother as she set down a refill of his glass of milk. She then grabbed her purse and keys, ready to leave anytime, and then sat to watch Jihoon chug down his milk. An adoring smile stretched across her face. “Excited, are we?” Without a word, Jihoon hopped down from his chair and zoomed past his mother to the front door, looking back to see if she was following. “All right, all right, I’m coming,” she said to the expectant little boy. Though he was frowning, his mother knew how ecstatic he was inside. “Let’s go see the flying man. The flying man was the neighborhood uncle, the neighborhood wonder. He was a man with the ability to hover a few inches off the ground, with no known reason why, but it was well known in the small town. At first, residents were worried that he might be dangerous, but it didn’t take long for him to capture the hearts of both the children and their mothers with his friendly smile and hearty laugh. Every month, the children would visit him, but for Jihoon, it was a first. "Uncle Seokmin!" Jihoon heard someone shout when he got out of the car before running over to the voice without waiting for his mother to catch up. It was his first time seeing the rumored man, and though he didn't admit it, he had trouble staying asleep last night from anticipation. Jihoon stopped in his tracks when he approached the circle of children surrounding the flying man, who glanced over in Jihoon's direction. The man was standing with his feet planted firmly on the floor, walking normally to the little boy. "Oh, I haven't seen you around before. I'm Uncle Seokmin! What's your name?" The flying man kneeled down as he extended his hand for Jihoon to shake, but Jihoon only stared. "His name is Jihoon," his mother answered for him when she finally caught up. "I'm sorry, he's a little shy." Uncle Seokmin grinned and levitated, finally showcasing his powers to the young Jihoon, who turned bright-eyed and full of wonder. "That's alright, as long as he enjoys himself, I don't mind." The children sat in a circle as if routine and Uncle Seokmin invited Jihoon over as well. "We're going to play duck duck goose. Do you know how to play?" Jihoon nodded, and Uncle Seokmin gave him an encouraging smile. "How about you start, Jihoon?" "Duck," Jihoon said as he tapped the head of the first child. "Duck, duck, duck, duck." He tapped just about every child's head, planning to choose the flying man, but just before he reached the flying man's head, "Goose!" he shouted as he started to run around the circle of children. The child chasing him had not been able to catch up on time, and it was now his turn to choose the next chaser. After a few turns, a child chose the flying man to chase him. At the shout of "goose", the children shouted and the flying man got up and flew around in a circle, chasing the child who chose him. Though the flying man made a small fit out loud about how Jun was too fast for him, Jihoon realized the man could have flown much faster and was only accommodating for the child’s smaller legs. It was finally Uncle Seokmin’s turn to pick a chaser. He walked with his feet on the ground as he did so. "Duck, duck, duck," he slowly tapped on each child's head, and then "Goose!" when he tapped Jihoon's. Jihoon stood up, ready to chase the flying man as fast as his legs could carry him, but the flying man fell to his knees before Jihoon could start his sprint. With a moment of uncertainty and the game being unofficially over, the children surrounded Uncle Seokmin, asking if he was okay, though he looked as confused as everyone else. "What's wrong?" echoed small voices, and eventually adult voices when the mothers came to see what was happening. "I... I can't fly," he said in shock, and a wave of gasps followed. “What do you mean you can’t fly?” asked Jihoon’s mother. “I don’t know… I just… can’t.” Silence settled quickly, no one knowing what to do or how to comfort him, and the mothers collectively decided, speaking only through wordless expressions and gestures, that it was best for them to leave Uncle Seokmin to himself. When Jihoon returned home, he asked his mother if Uncle Seokmin was going to be better, feeling rather attached and sorrowful after just one day, and his mother assured him that the flying man will be fine. It was convincing enough for Jihoon, but he went to his room anyways, ready to write a “get well soon” letter to the flying man to thank him for that day. He looked around for a sheet of paper to write his letter when he spotted some on top of his bookshelf. Jumping wasn't effective enough to reach them, so he opted to climb the bookshelf to reach the top. Just as he grabbed the pile of paper, his grip on the bookshelf slipped, his socks too slippery against the metal, and he tumbled to the floor. Only, he never quite made contact with the floor. Jihoon opened the eyes that he instinctively shut to see that he was levitating a few inches off the floor. It was surprising, that he was levitating when he could never his entire life. The countless falls and scratches and bruises that could have been prevented if he had such an ability, was surely proof of it. But there he was, in that present moment after just seeing the flying man for the first time, levitating when the flying man could no longer. Slowly, his feet were guided to the floor. Jihoon could only contemplate, ignoring the scattered mess of papers now on his bedroom floor. He thought about it, not conscious of how much time was passing, but he could only think that somehow he took the power of flight away from the flying man, though he didn't know how. He was only six, and no one would ever seriously take the word of a six-year-old, but he had a horrible feeling that his conclusion was right. ~~~~~ Seungcheol While they lived together, it was hard to say that they spent more time together than before. With Jisoo being promoted as a secretary to a major corporation’s CEO, the time he had off was rare. Seungcheol, with his odd jobs, was able to keep himself financially afloat, and Jisoo was able to keep him mentally. It was more than satisfying enough that at the end of the day, no matter how long or short, Seungcheol was able to rest his eyes upon a peacefully sleeping Jisoo beside him, their shiba Hyuk curled up at the foot of their bed. This peaceful moment it itself was more than enough for Seungcheol to maintain his happiness, and more than he would have asked for. For the one he loved to love him back, and to see him as often as he did was a privilege he was lucky to have, and he knew it. Jisoo was the quieter of the two. He was one to follow along with Seungcheol’s suggestions and play along with his antics. Seungcheol was a leader, while Jisoo blissfully answered to his call —a t least when he could, which was less often than more. Their rare movie dates were often cut short, with Jisoo missing the climax, and Seungcheol filling him in when they met again. Dinner dates were always take-out, so to an outsider, it didn’t look like Seungcheol was dumped. When they ate out the first few times, Seungcheol received the pity of his waiter when he didn’t need it, and it bothered him enough for them to stop eating out altogether. Seungcheol regularly came home to a house without Jisoo, but at least he had Hyuk to greet him. Despite the troubles they had, he understood Jisoo’s position. They were both adults who understood the weight of responsibility. But Seungcheol wanted for once, just once, that they could forget their duties and let themselves loose without worrying about anything. Just once, he wanted to be together with Jisoo without his date checking his email every half hour to make sure everything was running smoothly. And so to make it happen, he took the initiative and told Jisoo a month in advance that they would be going on a three-day cruise. No cell phones, no obligations, no responsibilities, no questions. At first, Jisoo laughed at the idea, sighing a light if only . But then it sank in that Seungcheol said what he meant and meant what he said. Waiting for a response, Seungcheol held Jisoo’s hands tight, pleasing with his eyes and his body, and conveying his seriousness. After a moment of contemplation, Jisoo said it could be possible, considering the long notice. He sent his boss an email that night in hopes that he would be granted such a break without any obligations to check his phone the whole trip. Both of them prepared for disappointment of rejection but anticipated acceptance. Unexpectedly, before long, Jisoo received a reply that made him and Seungcheol jump around in circles, hugging and laughing their way to bed, Jisoo’s laptop still on and abandoned on the coffee table, email on display to remind them the next morning that it wasn’t a dream. Since the moment Jisoo received the okay for the three-day vacation, Seungcheol reminded him of it constantly. Day one was reminding him that it was happening, day two was reminding him to make a list of things to do, day twelve was reminding him which places the cruise would stop at, and day twenty was reminding him to bring remedies for nausea, just in case. The day before D-day, however, was Seungcheol reminding him that he let his boss know a month ahead of time, and that it wasn’t fair that he so suddenly changed his mind because of unexpected circumstances. Seungcheol repeated his words, that his boss should have prepared for something like this, while Jisoo repeatedly stabbed his fork into the chicken on his dinner plate, his appetite chased away by guilt. When Jisoo opened his mouth to speak, one look at Seungcheol told him his lover didn’t want to hear the excuses his boss had to offer. Especially not after Seungcheol’s daily reminders and build up of excitement. Seungcheol just didn’t want to hear it, shutting out his ears and eventually the door as he left by himself, dragging behind him his suitcase too bulky for a part of one, leaving behind a frowning Jisoo and a whimpering Hyuk. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be, Seungcheol scrolling through pictures on his phone, suitcase on the floor unopened, lying alone on a large bed in the suite he rented a month ago when the prices were cheapest. It was supposed to be the two of them, Seungcheol constantly voicing his amazement of how large the ship was, how grand the interior was decorated, and how good the food smelled in the cafeteria. It was supposed to be the both of them exploring every corner of the ship on the first night, Jisoo’s phone turned off and tucked away in their room while the two played games in the arcade. It was supposed to be a trip together so they could each share a piece of this memory to treasure, but instead, Seungcheol was curled up, regretting letting out his anger before he left, but not having the courage to apologize. He turned off his phone and tossed it aside, hearing a soft thud as it hit the fluffy rug on the floor. He closed his eyes, wondering if coming alone was a bad idea, angry at himself for coming in the heat of the moment after his argument with Jisoo, realizing that there was no point in this if Jisoo wasn’t there. He didn’t cry, but he sure as hell felt like crying his eyes out. ~~~~~ Seungcheol jumped out of bed to a screeching alarm — one that rang extra sharp and shrill to induce a sense of urgency. This wasn’t a wake-up alarm, he recognized immediately. It was the second night of the cruise, or more accurately the third day seeing as it was past midnight, and an emergency alarm rang to warn its passengers that something was very wrong. A male voice could be heard through the speakers that decorated the ceiling, and it notified the passengers to locate their life jackets from under the bed and then head to the nearest lifeboat. An engine fire had started and the ship was sinking. Screams arose left and right, wails of desperation that were accompanied the pushing and shoving of the crowd around him, everyone trying to reach the lifeboats first. It was hard to walk through the crowd when some had already inflated their life jackets when directly instructed not to until they had reached the deck. Some attempted to salvage their luggage, only to realize that they would have to abandon their belongings eventually. Seungcheol’s body swayed from the sudden jerky rocking of the floor beneath him and he reached for the wall to stabilize himself with success. Only those that hung onto the walls remained standing and proceeded to make their way past those now sprawled on the floor. The sprinklers turned on soon after, thoroughly soaking those still in the hall even though they had a ways to go before being lowered into the ocean by lifeboat. A terrified cry could be heard from behind him and Seungcheol looked back at a helpless child who was scared for her life. A sense of responsibility swelled from within his chest and he vowed to himself that he wouldn’t escape before all the children did. He made it his duty to find children and their mothers and guide them through the crowd, taking advantage of his strong arms to make a path for them to the deck. A few others noticed Seungcheol’s actions and began to follow suit, prioritizing children. By the time he thought back to it, the course of events was a blur. All the passengers were able to secure themselves on lifeboats with their life jackets, though a good half of them were still wet from the sprinklers. Including all of the members on Seungcheol’s lifeboat. All they could do now, though, was wait for help to arrive, as luck decided not to grant them a lifeboat with a working motor. It was colder than he thought it would be. Not even ten minutes into the lifeboat’s decent, Seungcheol was shivering. He harshly rubbed his arms covered in goosebumps as his core shook him in order to keep him warm. He couldn’t think, the phrase It’s so cold repeating in his mind when his lips were no longer able to speak it. It was dark, but he could detect a blue tinge on some of the other passenger’s lips and he thought, I guess I’m really going to die this time. Sleep was the enemy, he knew. But when unconsciousness was beckoning him like a warm blanket, he couldn’t resist it. His body started calming down and he couldn’t be sure that it was because it really was, or that his brain just couldn’t register the tremors anymore. Either way, his breaths slowed. I never got to apologize, but Jisoo will forgive me, right? His eyelids drooped lower and lower, his frame curling to a comfortable position. Right? He felt consciousness slip away. ~~~~~ It was loud. At first, it was a light drone, but it rapidly became a deafening roar, and with his heart pounding furiously from fright, Seungcheol sat straight up, woken effectively. Up in the sky, he saw it, salvation in the form of a black helicopter. Relieved, he turned around to celebrate with the other passengers in his lifeboat, but none of them were awake. He didn’t know how long he slept for, but as light or deep of a sleep he was in, he was able to wake up from the noise. It was strange that he was the only one. Strange and concerning. Seungcheol reached his arm out to shake the nearest other passenger awake but gasped when the passenger fell to his side with a dull thud. Seungcheol had only touched their shoulder, but their skin was much too cold for comfort. Panicking, he waved his arms at the helicopter, and when a rescuer came down, he insisted that the others were taken first. They were in more need of help. After examination of the other passengers, however, Seungcheol was the only one deemed fit by the rescuer to be taken by the helicopter, announcing that the others were no longer alive, likely taken by hypothermia. Seungcheol was fine, the rescuer informed him. He was cold, but he would be just fine. Physically, that may have been so, but mentally it wasn’t. He wasn’t fine. Jisoo was waiting for him at the hospital when he heard the news that Seungcheol was being transported there. They each said their apologies to the other, Seungcheol sorry for being immature and Jisoo sorry for not making the time for him, and both glad that they were able to see each other again. Seungcheol thought luck was on his side, after all. ~~~~~ Jihoon Jihoon had the ability to fly. To hover, really, but he could stay up in the air about two inches off the ground. He had this ability, but no one knew but he, as he deemed it was best that he was the only one to know of it. After hearing the news that the flying man never regained his abilities while Jihoon’s powers remained, it became clear that Jihoon took this hovering ability from the flying man he once adored. He never spoke a word of it to anyone, nor did he apologize for it, letting his guilt swallow the bulk of his emotions as he saw fit. He was the one to ruin the flying man’s reputation, so it was only right for him to be punished in some way. He was prepared to face the rest of his life having the secret powers of hovering, but at some point in time, without realizing it, he realized he had another power: reading minds. It was during an exam that he discovered it. Another power, it seemed at first, but after trying to levitate after discovering this new power, he couldn't. His ability to speak to read minds had replaced his ability to fly. The classroom was silent with only subtle noises of pencil scribbling on paper, hands wiping away eraser dust, sighs, and shoes lightly tapping on the wood floor being audible. The more Jihoon concentrated, however, the more noises were brought to his attention. Mumbling. The kind that one utters habitually when solving a complex problem. It was the next sound he heard. Though Jihoon tried to ignore his classmate, another joined in, and another, and soon the classroom sounded of light buzzing whispers, not quite loud enough to overpower the sound of scuttling, frustrated feet, but loud enough to distract Jihoon. Jihoon subtly turned his head to request his neighboring seatmate for silence, but when he looked over, there was something strange about what he saw. His neighbor's lips weren't moving in the slightest. Nor was was his neighbor's neighbor's, nor his neighbor's neighbor's neighbor's. No one was speaking, and yet Jihoon heard their voices in an echo-like quality, and all he could do was ignore them as best as he could to finish his test. Their time ran out, and the teacher demanded their tests to be passed forward, and Jihoon's mind was more jumbled than before. Had he hallucinated just then? Or… Dinner at home that night was silent, and Jihoon heard it again, the mumbling voices forming not quite cohesive sentences. They were thought processes spoken aloud. Aloud meaning in Jihoon's head. The chicken, ugh, overcooked. Again? It was his mother's voice, though her mouth was occupied with dry chicken and unable to form tangent words, Jihoon heard them. He wondered if this was something he could tell his mother, that he could read minds, or perhaps thoughts as they formed? How would she take it? "So," Jihoon started. "I know, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overcook it. I was just anxious with your entrance exams coming up, you know?" "No, it's delicious," he responded. It was better if she didn’t have another worry to fret over. In the course of a few days, Jihoon understood more and more about his new ability, but not where it came from. Not knowing anyone who had such a power in the first place, it was hard for him to find out, but regardless, there was nothing he could do to change this. There was nothing he could do to stop taking powers away from people who may treasure them, and there was nothing he could do to make up for it. He learned acceptance this way. ~~~~~ Seungcheol “Let’s go on a hiking trip together. A few day’s worth.” Seungcheol paused in surprise in the middle of chewing his toast, since it was Jisoo who suggested a date. A date that would be for multiple days. On a hike which meant little or no cellular connection. He swallowed the toast prematurely, brittle crumbs scraping his throat. After the cruise incident, the two hadn’t gone on a date outside of visiting the dog cafe that they used to frequent, more for Jisoo’s peace of mind than Seungcheol’s. For Jisoo to be the one to practically suggest a date in the mountains was a huge step out of his comfort zone. But if Jisoo was the one suggesting it, then he must have been wanting to overcome his fears somewhat. “Are you sure? And don’t you think your boss might hold you back again?” “He hired another secretary so I could have more vacation time. You don’t have to worry about that part. As for the trip itself, I’m sure I want to. I don’t want our relationship to be tied down by my fears. You’ve sacrificed so much for me, so I want to give back by going on fun dates again.” Seungcheol reached for Jisoo’s hand, Jisoo opening his clenched fist to let him in. “There’s nothing wrong with the dog cafe. We both like it, don’t we?” “I know,” Jisoo sighed. “But I don’t want you to get tired of our relationship because I can’t handle the thought of you going anywhere.” Seungcheol gave Jisoo’s hand a tight squeeze. “I won’t get tired of this relationship, Jisoo. I love you, You know that.” “I know, but can we just think of this as a first step to facing my fears? I still want to do this. For the both of us.” He knew Jisoo was trying, and he wanted to reward his efforts somehow. If agreeing was the way to do it, then agreeing was what he would do. He closed his eyes as he brought Jisoo’s hand to his lips. “Okay.” ~~~~~ “Seungcheol!” Jisoo’s voice was faint, muffled from having to pass through quite some distance and shrubbery, but Sengcheol heard it clear enough. He responded by shouting that he was okay, and the next thing he knew, Jisoo was beside him, having traveled down the mountain in the same way Seungcheol had fallen. Only he hadn’t fallen so pathetically like Seungcheol had, instead scooting himself down the mountain, using the nearby branches to assist his descent. Jisoo flinched when he caught the streaks of glossy garnet decorating Seungcheol’s calf. “You call this ‘okay’?” Seungcheol’s chest ached more than his leg when he saw Jisoo’s expression. He knew Jisoo was blaming himself for the injury, even though Seungcheol was the one who tripped from the ledge, because it was Jisoo who suggested the hike in the first place. Jisoo was selfless like that, always taking the chance to carry the fault so others wouldn’t have to. But it was a selfish way to think when Seungcheol was hurt from knowing what Jisoo thought. “Don’t worry, I’ll live. I was okay enough to shout to you, wasn’t I?” “Seungcheol, please. This isn’t the time for jokes. We have to get back somehow…” They looked up where they strayed from the trail, judging it was impossible to go up the same way. Seungcheol chuckled nervously. “It’ll heal. It’s not that big of a deal.” It didn’t heal. Having gone terribly off of the trail, Seungcheol and Jisoo had to find a new route to get back home, but being surrounded by a seemingly indefinite number of trees, there was no way to tell if they were coming closer or farther from their destination. When night fell, Jisoo declared that they must have lost their way, but Seungcheol optimistically suggested that they were just much slower at finding their way out because they were off the path and because Seungcheol was slowing them down tremendously. With no signal from either of their phones, they could only hope to either make their way out by themselves or that perhaps someone notices their absence. By ‘someone’, Seungcheol thought of Jisoo’s boss, who was a stickler for being on schedule. At most, they would be stuck for another two days, when Jisoo was scheduled off, before the guy would notice. Seungcheol was never fond of Jisoo’s boss, but he had no choice but to rely on him at this point. A burning sensation crawled up Seungcheol’s leg, and he started to hope harder. While most of the blood formed a crust on his skin, a small glimmer of light still reflected in the red of the wound, where the bleeding had not quite ceased. The surface of his leg was tender, much more than before, but he hoped a good night’s sleep would help it heal. With exhaustion hitting him hard, even the damp ground was comfortable enough for him to fall asleep to. He beckoned Jisoo with wide arms, and they slept in the comfort of each other’s bodies and each other’s hearts. ~~~~~ Jihoon The city has been free of arson for several years now, but it seems that serial arsonist “Cinder Fingers” is active once again. There were two arsons last night, the building burned down only a block away from each other. Police still have no leads, and there have been complaints about the workforce. Will investigators be able to track down the serial arsonist? Jihoon never liked the feeling of being invasive, so he avoided reading minds at all costs. The best way to do that, he found, was to keep his headphones on to listen to the radio all day. It was only in silence that he could hear the inner voices of those who surrounded him, so he kept himself immersed in the sound of current events. He felt he knew more about the world, and if it meant he would learn less about the people around him, friends and strangers, then that was fine. He didn’t want to know more than what his friends were willing to say, and wearing headphones everywhere he went wasn’t uncommon for someone his age. Thankfully, he didn’t particularly stand out more than others for doing it. Over the years of gaining his current power, there were qualities he discovered about it. For one, most people thought quietly, unless their emotions were rampant in some way. That was why he mostly heard voices when the environment was quiet. However, people could scream in thought. More times than he would have liked to admit, he heard the broken-hearted words from strangers whose relationships had gone awry. More times than he would have liked to admit, he heard screams of help for reasons he never ventured to discover. He turned a blind eye too many times to count, and yet he was never able to desensitize his growing pangs of guilt. For someone who had the power to hear voices in need, he didn’t do much to help anyone. But should he have shouldered the responsibility when he was the only one who could hear them? Was he really obligated to? He decided it was in his best interest to ignore the world. To ignore the voices and pretend they were never there. For all he knew, they could have been hallucinations from the heavy stress that came from studying. It was a possibility, especially when he never confronted anyone of their thoughts. Who was he to judge that the thoughts he heard were real? Did it really matter so long as he kept quiet about it? He probably should have told someone about it. Anyone he was close to would have been fine, but hiding the fact for so long made it difficult for Jihoon to tell anyone why he had to disappear, or that he would at all. On the night after he received his acceptance to a university abroad, he was walking back home late after a celebratory solo drinking night. The dimly lit street was hard to see, causing him to squint as he walked the familiar route home. He wasn’t so intoxicated that he stumbled, but the cool brick walls of the neighborhood helped him keep balance. It was mostly by memory that he was making his way back, since reading the street signs were too much of a hassle in his state. He thought it would be a peaceful walk home, but something caught his attention. Despite the sparse number of streetlights illuminating his path, and despite Jihoon’s dampened ability to see, it was bright. He looked up, first mistaking the sight in front of him to be a large campfire from lack of judgment, but upon sobering up, he realized that what he thought were logs was the skeleton of a house. It was bright, glowing, and entrancing, but at the same time horrifying. There was a house on fire . There was a house in his neighborhood on fire. Jihoon thought back to the news he heard on the radio that day, that the serial killer Cinder Fingers had returned, and a deep fear shook him to the core when he remembered the last incident involved two houses within a block of each other. He started running towards his own house, adrenaline affecting him more than the alcohol, needing to make sure his family was safe. His feet stopped instinctively, though, when he heard a scream. An echoing scream that told him it was a thought rather than an utterance, coming from the direction of the burning house, not even a few meters from him. Not again! No, not again! the voice bounced in Jihoon’s head. A man ran out of the burning house, smoke clinging to and trailing behind him, hands covering his face. The man ran towards Jihoon, who had no time to recover from the shock before the man crashed into him and quickly gathered himself and fled without an apology even though Jihoon had fallen to the floor. That man was probably the serial arsonist Jihoon thought, trying to recall his face to inform the police when he could. But he had to check the safety of his home, first. The contents of Jihoon’s bag scattered from the impact, the zipper never quite closed after it got stuck one day and stayed stuck. With a sense of urgency, he picked up and packed his things. First his pencil case, then his water bottle, and then his book. His book, however, never reached the inside of his bag, as it incinerated as he picked it up, ashes crumbling between his fingers to the gravel. There was nothing that could have triggered the book to burst into flames, but it did as Jihoon picked it up. He didn’t want to believe what he saw, but he knew it was real. He reached for his binder, which was unaffected as he placed it in his bag. When he picked up his notebook, however, it flashed bright flames before turning to ashes, and everything made sense. It was by touch… Jihoon could no longer feel any sensation, not the harsh landing of his knees to the ground nor the scratches when the weight of his arm made his hand fall and brush the street. He was dumb for not figuring it out all this time, that it was touch. He took away the powers of others by touch, and he just obtained the power that cursed the wanted serial arsonist. ~~~~~ Seungcheol Seungcheol felt hot and cold simultaneously, more exhausted than when he went to sleep. His body was hot, but his leg was lava, his heartbeat erupting inside the limb. He was unable to move himself, his entire body heavy, the sweat built up on his skin feeling like the weight of an ocean. He was conscious, but just barely, and his efforts were put into trying to remember what had happened, why he was in such a state. “Seungcheol! Don’t die on me!” Cool hands swept across his cheeks, and he felt his lips lift in response to the pleasant sensation. A cloth was rubbed against his limbs, sopping up moisture, and he heard his name called once again. “I’m sorry, this was all my fault. I was right, it’s just too dangerous outside of the city.” It was Jisoo’s voice, Seungcheol recognized. His sweet and loving voice, bellowing in shaken sorrow, and yet Seungcheol found happiness in hearing it. Despite not being able to register much, it was the one thing he confidently recognized and confidently loved. Even as he found sleep nudging him once again, he regretted nothing. “Jisoo! JISOO!” The next few seconds that turned into minutes, that turned into days, all flashed by before Seungcheol could even tell what was happening. Seungcheol was being taken by the rescue crew, being held back from running towards Jisoo, whom they were taking in through a stretcher. He didn’t know why Jisoo was lying there like that, eyes closed and resting peacefully when the helicopter above them was so loud it drowned Seungcheol’s screams. His wrists were strapped onto the hospital bed after the nurses were put up with his attempts to escape to locate his lover, seeing as they should have been sent to the same place. When his body was no longer able to escape the bed, he used his voice, screaming Jisoo’s name again and again until a man in a suit visited him. He introduced himself as an investigator. “Can you tell me what happened on the mountain?” Seungcheol was silent. “Choi Seungcheol?” “I… I don’t know.” “You don’t remember?” “I…” “Please just tell me everything you can. We’ll try to figure out the rest.” “Jisoo and I, we went to go on a hike. On the mountains. It was supposed to be a date. Our first date outside of the city in a long time…” “And?” “I tripped somewhere along the way and fell really far down, and I cut my leg on some branch on the way. And then Jisoo came down to see if I was okay. He didn’t fall though, it was just me. We tried to get back up the trail so we could go home, but I couldn’t because of my injury, so we tried to find our way back from where we were. And, I think my leg got infected, because I remember Jisoo taking care of me. I think I was feverish because of it. I don’t really remember, but then the next thing I knew, we were being rescued and they took Jisoo away from me. Do you know where he is? Can you take me to him? I just want to know what’s going on. Please.” The investigator wrote Seungcheol’s comments down, a concerned frown on his face. “Thank you for telling me this, but I think you’re a bit confused. Maybe you were traumatized by the situation and your mind remembers the event in the victim’s shoes, but your leg is fine. It was Hong Jisoo’s leg that was cut up and infected. He was the one who passed away from the nasty infection on his leg.” Seungcheol blinked. “Passed away? What are you talked about? No, I remember. It was me, I cut my leg. I hurt myself and Jisoo was blaming himself for it. Why are you saying Jisoo passed away? Are you saying he died ? I don’t understand.” The investigator shook his head. “Your memories must be boggled up. Why don’t you get some sleep? Maybe you’ll remember more clearly when you wake up. I’ll turn this information to my boss, but I think we have everything we need. Thank you for your time, and I’m extremely sorry for your loss. Have a good day.” He held out a hand for a shake, but upon seeing Seungcheol’s bound wrists, he withdrew it. As he left, Seungcheol was frustrated, trying to understand what was happening. He was sure of it, he got hurt. Dead? Jisoo was dead? Seungcheol should have been the one dead. Seungcheol should have been the one to die because Seungcheol was the one with the injury. What was happening? Why? Why ? Jisoo… was dead? Jisoo. Dead. Jisoo was dead, so why, why, why, why, why was Seungcheol alive? ~~~~~ Seungcheol brushed the tip of the blade with his finger with little pressure, but it was sharp enough to break the first thin layer of skin. That made the fifteenth break in the pad of his forefinger that day, as Seungcheol had been contemplating for a long time. It didn’t make sense, but it was the only explanation he could think of, and the only solution he could come up with. He brought the blade to his throat, finally conjuring up the resolve to do so. It didn’t make sense that Jisoo died when Seungcheol should have. It didn’t make sense that Jisoo had a wound where Seungcheol did, and Seungcheol’s wound was gone. It didn’t make sense unless somehow, Jisoo took death away from him, or that he gave death to Jisoo, and if that was the case, it was only natural that Seungcheol should die. Whether it would bring Jisoo back, he wasn’t sure, but either way, Seungcheol didn’t want to live in a world without him. When he thought back on his life, he realized it wasn’t the first time he was sure he would die. The disaster cruise he was a part of was a time where he wasn’t so sure he would survive, but he ended up being the sole survivor of his lifeboat. Of all of them, when he was the coldest and wettest, he was the only one to survive. The first time he was sure he would die was when he was fighting in the war. He remembered his gunshot wounds, two of them close to his heart, but when he woke up, he was alive. He was alive, but the others in the medical tent weren’t. They all had gunshot wounds, and it only took him that many years to realize they were in the same spots that Seungcheol’s wounds had previously been. Seungcheol had died then, he knew it, but he came back to life and others had taken his place. It dawned on him that no one had attacked the medical tent. It was Seungcheol that caused their deaths. Without knowing it until now, Seungcheol held some power that allowed surrounding people to take his place upon dying. It was a horrible power, and he didn’t know why he had it, but knowing it was his fault that Jisoo was gone, he found no reason to live anymore. There was no reason for him to live just fine what he was the cause of the death of many, when he lived happily with Jisoo without knowing anything. It was only right to end it now. In a cabin far from the city, and far from people, where no one would get hurt, he would end the tragedy he created. It was only fair. He felt sorry for Hyuk, who might end up waiting for him forever, but Hyuk was entrusted to a good friend. Maybe Seungcheol was avoiding responsibility this way, but at the same time he was taking responsibility for the deaths he had caused in the past, and the ones could surely cause in the future. He pressed the blade into his pulsing skin. ~~~~~ He had never seen so many grounded crows in one place at a time. When he opened the door to his cabin, the ground appeared black from the blanket of crows for as far as he could see, all of which were slaughtered. With each bird having spilt blood from their necks sliced open, who could have been the culprit other than Seungcheol, whose neck was clean without a hint of his bloody knife having ever touched it. It wasn’t just humans’ he found out. It wasn’t just humans’ lives that were affected by the power Seungcheol had but never once asked for. He couldn’t be near any living thing if he wanted to truly end what should have ended so long ago. He had to be somewhere void of life, and only then would he be, too. ~~~~~ The light reflecting off of the snow was blinding, and the temperature made him shiver. The arctic seemed as bitter as he was, and he was almost glad of it, seeing how it was a fitting end. Having walked for hours to ensure he was far enough away from the nearest city, and only hoping the ice was deep enough that no sea creatures were near his feet, he decided that it was the place. But there was something that caught his eye. In the vast nothingness of white, with no other signs of life left or right, there was a small mound of snow up ahead. Upon getting closer, Seungcheol noticed it was an igloo, obviously and somewhat poorly man-made. The important part of his observation was that it was man-made, was the possibility of someone being inside, and after everything Seungcheol had been through, he didn’t want to cause another unintentional death because of his carelessness. He entered the shelter. “I wouldn’t come in here if I were you,” said a young male voice from inside. “It’s dangerous.” Dangerous? Seungcheol stepped inside anyways. It wasn’t like he was trying to make an effort to stay alive. “You’re not listening. You should leave,” the voice said more sternly. “What is there to be afraid of? I’m probably the most dangerous thing around. I came in here to warn you about me .” “ You? Why would you warn me about you? ” Seungcheol stared into the hard eyes that peeked through between the fur lining of a jacket and a scarf that enveloped a small structure. The igloo resident couldn’t be older than he, and yet he was speaking to him harshly. The two gave each other a long glare, neither withdrawing their statements nor their gazes. “I could kill you,” the boy in the large coat finally said, breaking the challenging silence. “But in the end, you’d be the dead one, because believe it or not, I have a kind of unnatural power that would make it happen. I came here to warn you to stay away from that area over there,” he pointed outside of the igloo entrance, “if you can. At least for a few days. It's the only way I think I'll be able to find peace.” “Find peace…” The boy stepped closer to Seungcheol, examining his expression. Though the low temperatures caused Seungcheol’s entire body to be numb to its state, he could only imagine what kind of face he was making right then. “Death, huh? That’s the conclusion you came up with?” Surprised, Seungcheol could only nod. “I think we both have a lot to share. Why don’t we talk about it?” Seated on the ice-cold floor, the two of them shared their stories. First was Seungcheol, who explained how, though he didn’t realize it at first, survived by taking the lives of others upon death. He shared how he only realized too late, after losing his beloved, and that he couldn’t think of a good reason to live. After taking the lives of so many, he didn’t know what he did to deserve to live, but taking his life was more challenging than first expected. And he made his resolve to try once more in a place that lacked both animals and people, and the arctic was where he came up with. The boy, Jihoon, he introduced himself as, also had a power, but he knew of his long before then. In a small town where he grew up was an uncle who had the power of levitation… ~~~~~ There was a similarity in their stories. Both were unaware, to some extent, what their powers were, and both ended up in the vacant cold in order to prevent tragedies. Hearing Jihoon’s story, Seungcheol almost wanted to give up what he had already set his mind to do. Their two selves could maybe make do with what they had, using the other to satisfy their loneliness. Satisfaction, he admitted to himself, wasn’t quite the word, but if there was something even remotely close that he could hang onto, then he wondered if that was good enough. When he made the suggestion to Jihoon, however… “I chose to live here by myself, partially because I’m a threat to others, but also because it’s what I deserve. I ignored the voices of people in need when I was the only one who knew, and keeping that secret for so long, I think my judgment is fair. If you want to live, then I’m sorry, but it can’t be with me.” The slightest glimmer of hope disappeared in the wind, and Seungcheol remembered the reason he came. “You’re right, I guess you can choose for yourself what kind of punishment you think is right. I already chose mine, though…“ he paused, looking outside of the igloo where a monochrome scene lay, contemplating if his plan would really be successful, or if something else would work better. “Do you think you can do me a favor?” Seungcheol took off his gloves and held out his hands. They shivered, his body cold even when there warm tears running down his cheeks. Feeling that this was finally the end of his journey, emotions welled up inside him, and he felt as if he was finally crying for lives he had unintentionally taken. He smiled, knowing this was what he truly wanted. Without further explanation, Jihoon seemed to have understood that Seungcheol wanted him to take his power. If Jihoon was going to live the rest of his life in solitude, there was no reason he couldn’t harbor such a power, Seungcheol reasoned by himself. Jihoon took off his gloves as well, and the two reached out to each other. When their hands touched, Seungcheol was suddenly very warm, despite where he was. He was hot. He was burning. Jihoon shouted, apologizing profusely while trying to scrape up the hard ice beneath him to pile onto Seungcheol, but Seungcheol raised his hand. As painful as it was, his heart was at peace, finally, knowing that there was no doubt that his time had come. After facing death so many times, it was almost exhausting to live, and now he wouldn’t have to deal with that burden anymore. With tears no longer on his face, evaporated by the fire, he looked at Jihoon. His throat was dry, but he managed to mouth a Thank you and I’m sorry . The last sight he saw was Jihoon smiling a melancholy smile, ready to bear the burden Seungcheol left behind. As remorseful as Seungcheol was, he would be eternally grateful to face death, at last, to meet Jisoo on the other side of death’s door waiting for him.
10730340	Blue Blush	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Frisk (Undertale), Sans (Undertale), Grillby (Undertale)", "Fandom": "Undertale (Video Game)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by u_dont_kno_me", "chapters": "4/4", "completed": "2017-06-23", "published": "2017-04-25T00:00:00", "words": "15,458", "Additional Tags": "Fluff, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Mild Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Teen Frisk, Post-Pacifist Run, Female Frisk, Blushing, Flirty Frisk, Flirty Sans, Flirting, Destiel Reference?, Studio Ghibli References, First Kiss, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Frisk/Sans (Undertale), Frisk & Sans (Undertale)", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	It was a usual day in the life of Frisk, but it wasn’t the usual weather in Snowdin Town. Instead of a few inches of the fluffy snow on the ground, there was almost a good foot of it due to the blizzard that had been raging on since that afternoon -- which also wasn’t the usual. Usually, the sky (or what could be considered a sky in the Underground) was clear and the air still, sometimes with a few light flurries falling. But today, a biting wind was blowing a much larger amount of snowflakes into Frisk’s chilled body, preventing her from even being able to look up from the ground for more than a few seconds without her vision turning blurry.Frisk adjusted her balled up fists in her sweater’s sleeves again, hugging herself tighter against the cold. She would have dressed more appropriately for the unexpected snowstorm, but it was, well, unexpected. And it’s not like the Underground had a weather prediction system or machine or something. Even after the Barrier had been broken more than five years ago and Monsters had been able to set out and discover the world on the Surface, they still hadn’t thought to start some sort of weather forecast like the Humans had. Well, Mettaton occasionally had a program like that, but it didn’t exactly have a regular schedule, wasn’t entirely serious, and the show would often get sidetracked. You couldn't expect much different though; Mettaton’s shows were primarily meant to entertain, not inform -- and the unexpectedness and craziness was what gave his programs their spark and originality. Plus, since the Barrier had been broken, Mettaton was keen on introducing himself to the surface and their inhabitants. Thankfully though, he hadn’t completely forgotten that some people still occupied the Underground, permanently or not.Yes, since the Barrier was torn down, Monsters not only came out, but Humans came in as well. Frisk didn’t know of any Humans that had actually chosen to permanently move to the Underground, but many came down here to curiously explore or simply take a vacation. And of course they were interested to know what Monster television was like (and Monsters still adored Mettaton), so, although MTT only played old programs of Mettaton’s most of the time, Mettaton still made sure to send us a new one at least once a month.Of course, Humans didn’t come to the Underground right away; they were shocked and a bit scared when Monsters suddenly returned to the surface. But eventually, word quickly spread that the Monsters meant no harm and were much more friendly than past Humans made them out to be. So, when Humans discovered that, quite a few decided to venture or visit the Underground, resulting in many employment options, especially for inns, motels, and hotels. Since Frisk wasn’t as eager as most to return to the surface (surprisingly to all her Monster friends), she decided she might as well get a job, being that they were practically raining from the sky (or well, places that were hiring). So, she became one of the maids at Snowed Inn.Before tourist Humans came into the Underground, Snowed Inn likely only had a couple “cleaners” for the whole place. But now, the building had been renovated to fit triple the amount of rooms it originally had, with one “maid” every other room. She even had a cute light blue and white uniform to match the winter theme of Snowdin!That was why she was even outside in this goddamn snowstorm. When she left in the morning for work, the weather was the same as always -- perhaps a bit windier than usual, but tolerable in her usual blue and purple sweater. But now, well, the weather changed. And Frisk did not like it.Frisk breathed into her numb fingers, desperately trying to warm them. If only this sweater had pockets… She thought glumly. Sans’ hoodie has pockets. Oh, how I’d love to put my hands in them… So warm… Just thinking about the heat she’d be greeted with by Sans’ hoodie made her temporarily forget about how cold she was. But then she wondered how she would even end up in a situation like that. Would she somehow end up wearing his hoodie? Would he give it to her? Or would she casually stuff her hands into the pockets while he was just doing his thing? But then wouldn’t she be touching his hands as well? That thought alone gave her slight butterflies in her stomach, and then made her almost feel like blushing at her ridiculousness -- if she even could in this weather; her cheeks were already red enough from the cold.He does always have his hands in his pockets, doesn’t he? Well no wonder; it must be cozy…Gosh, am I there yet? Frisk mentally complained. She then looked up from her feet to see that she wasn’t too far now from Sans’ and Papyrus’ house. Well, technically her house too. Everyone was surprised that after her entire journey and the Barrier breaking, Frisk didn’t actually want to live on the Surface. She wasn’t entirely sure why, herself, mostly just an instinctual feeling. She did make more friends down here than she ever did up there, but didn’t she want to be where she grew up and with her own people?The answer was no.She didn’t trust Humans. With their greed and selfishness and inability to feel compassion and love at times. Monster research proved that: where Monsters must have compassion and love to survive, Humans do not. And it didn’t help her beliefs that Frisk was often faced with Humans’ negativity as a child. She had experienced firsthand just how bad they could be, and she never wanted to experience that again.She always was an adventurous child... climbing to the top of Mount Ebott when she was just ten years old, but Humans were the ones that pushed her not to care whether she returned or not. She knew that no one was known to have returned alive from that mountain before, didn’t everyone? She was simply adventurous and brave enough to climb that mountain, and not happy enough to care if something bad happened.And then, she found the Underground. With the mother she wished she always had, its overly affectionate dogs, its self-conscious ghosts, it’s extremely passionate fish soldier, its hilarious skeletons (whom she now lived with), and many more beings she’d much rather live with than Humans. And since falling into what she now considered home, she had actually been determined in some way. Determined to do the right thing, determined to try again, determined to see the end, determined to live. Living on the Surface when she was younger, no one really made her feel determined for anything. No one and nothing made her feel truly happy. It didn’t seem like making any effort would change anyone or anything, so Frisk had stopped trying. One particularly bad day, Frisk had to get away from everyone and everything. She wasn’t planning on making it a permanent choice, but when she found the huge black hole in the ground, her 12 year-old childish and lonely self only felt curiosity. No sense of worry or risk, because what did she have to lose? As she dangled from the edge by her fingers, looking down, trying to guess how deep the hole went, her fingers aching, she thought, "only one way to find out". So she let go. She gasped because of the sudden feeling of nothing but wind rushing past her as she looked up at the circle of daylight slowly getting smaller and smaller. Of course she was scared, but not dreadful. Death seemed more of an “oh well” than “oh shit”. Instead of thinking something like, “oh God I might die oh no”, Frisk felt that it was more of an “aw man, now I’ll never know what’s down there”. Good thing she lived. And that’s why I live in Snowdin, with my two skeleton bros instead of that damned Surface. Frisk thought gratefully as she saw that there was only one more building until she reached home. Well, Papyrus spent most of his time on the surface of course, so it was usually just her and Sans. But they always had a good time. Whether they were off doing their own separate things, in each other’s presence but not actively “hanging out”, or actually going places or doing things together, Frisk was comfortable with her life here with him. Of course, being her adventurous self, she still wanted to eventually travel places on the Surface. Oceans, beaches, mountains, forests, valleys, even the big cities… she wanted to see them all. And most of her friends lived up there now as well. So it’s not like she never wanted to go to the surface, she just didn’t want to live there. During her three days a week off work, she and Sans always visited their friends, but she remembered that once or twice, knowing his luck, Papyrus went to visit Frisk and Sans in Snowdin at the same time that they were already on the surface visiting everyone. Frisk couldn’t remember which time Papyrus freaked out and panicked and which time he thought it was a prank and waited at their house for two whole days until Frisk and Sans finally got home. She smiled fondly at the funny memories.Finally. Frisk sighed happily as she arrived home and reached into her pants’ pocket for her key to the house. She and Sans went to Grillby’s for dinner almost every night, but first, she must warm herself up. She didn’t know how much longer she could survive out here like this.As she found the right key and moved it towards the lock with shivering red fingers, she wondered why Sans still lived in the Underground... The door opened before Frisk even put the key in the lock, making her and the 5-foot skeleton jump a bit. Despite being seventeen years old, Frisk was only 4’11, about one inch away from Sans’ height. Occasionally, he would tease her about it, saying, “I’m not that tall, you should be able to outgrow me” and she threats that one day, she will be taller than him, and then he’ll see who’s being teased. But, she secretly liked their heights as is. She wasn’t sure why, but she silently hoped she didn’t grow taller than him.“Sans! Gosh, you startled me!” Frisk put her keys back into her pocket. “Where are you going? I thought we were gonna go to Grillby’s.” She could feel the warmth coming out of the door and she looked inside longingly.“Didja not get my text? You were just running a bit late so I thought I'd meet you there...” Sans stepped outside and pulled the door closed, the sound of the lock clicking cutting Frisk's interjection about her kind of freezing to death off. "...Oh well, it's chill." He grinned and nodded at the blizzard, indicating the context of another one of his many puns, and began the bound-to-be torturous walk with Frisk following beside him.This is fine. I can survive for a couple more minutes. It'll just hurt a bit. Frisk thought desperately as she tried to make her laugh at Sans' joke sound convincing and wholehearted. Although, it sounded more shaky and prolonged than would sound normal, since he looked over and asked, “You good, kiddo?”“Yeah, shivering just makes me laugh weird.” She laughed unsteadily again and breathed hot air into her hands again and rubbed them together, repeating this process a couple more times, until she heard Sans’ voice.“Here.”Frisk looked over at him to see that he was holding his signature blue hoodie out to her. Frisk’s face lit up, but then she noticed him in his white t-shirt, whipping around his body in the harsh wind. “Won’t you be cold like that though?” She asked.“Nah, don’t worry about me. You’ve been out here longer than I have.” Sans smiled at Frisk, who laughed and accepted the hoodie gratefully. “That’s very warm-hearted of you, Sans.” She joked, and he laughed at her pun. She managed to get the hoodie on, but her fingers were too shaky and numb to do the zipper up. After watching a few of her unsuccessful tries, Sans put his hand on her arm and said, “Here, lemme.” They stopped walking and he stepped in front of her to do the zipper up himself. The only thing she was thankful for from this weather is that he wouldn’t be able to tell if she was blushing right now, which she was sure she would be.Sans then reached behind her head to pull the hood on. He stepped back and grinned. “Better?”“Much.” Frisk replied while brushing hair out of her face. “Thanks, Sans.” She then saw that Sans’ cheeks went a bit blue, probably from the cold. He started walking again and she followed. “Come on, let’s get to Grillby’s. You hungry?”“Definitely.” She responded, stuffing her hands into the hoodie’s pockets. Sans’ hoodie. That he gave to her.Frisk smiled because of the warmth, but also because of Sans. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Frisk sighed happily and removed the hood of Sans' hoodie as she and him entered the warm haven of Grillby’s.“Guess you didn't get my text, huh? Coulda saved yourself a walk.” Sans said to Frisk as they both stomped snow off their feet in the entryway.As they started walking towards their regular seats at the bar, Frisk took her phone out of her pocket and yes, displayed on the screen, there was a text from Sans. yo why dont i just meet u at grillbys? ur just running a bit late and itd save u time since its closer to ur work than home Frisk smiled at his consideration. “Yeah I guess I didn’t hear it. Also sorry for being a bit late, you know how snowstorms are; of course the wind had to be blowing against me.” She shoved her phone back in her pocket before sitting on the barstool.“Forgetaboutit, kiddo. What are you feeling like food-wise?” Sans sat and crossed his arms on the bar top.“Something warm, damnit.”“Heh, everything's warm here, kid.”“Especially your hoodie. Mm…” Frisk huddled into the blue sweatshirt blissfully, Sans watching her and silently admiring her childish giddiness. Having spent the past five years in the Underground instead of the Surface with other Humans, he suspected that the lack of societal standards and expectations down here let Frisk grow up at her own rate. She could be her natural, playful self without the subconscious threat of social judgment looming over her. Or maybe it was just part of her personality. Either way, Sans enjoyed it. And he definitely enjoyed seeing Frisk in his hoodie, with rosy cheeks and nose, brown strands of her windblown hair in her face, melted snowflakes on her eyelashes…He expected it to be silly and laughter-worthy, seeing Frisk in his signature blue hoodie. But instead, he mostly felt a sense of pride and responsibility from her accepting the offer just a couple minutes ago. And seeing her comfortably snuggling up in it gratefully, it made his heart swell and his cheeks go a bit blue -- something that rarely happened.“Sans? Are you still cold?” Frisk looked at him.“Huh?” He snapped out of his thoughts. “No, why?”“Well, your cheeks are kinda blue. Here,” Frisk started to remove his hoodie. No… you looked so cute… Sans mentally complained and cursed her for making him blush.“…I should be okay now. Thanks again.” Frisk handed him his hoodie and smiled shyly. He reluctantly (but didn’t let it show) reached out and took it from her, trying to ignore how his hand brushed hers in the process.Sans returned his hoodie back to its rightful place, trying to hide a smile as he smelled Frisk’s faint leftover scent. “Hey Grillby, I’ll have a burg.”“Me too, Grillby! Thanks!” Frisk added. The flaming restaurant/bar owner nodded silently and went to the back to retrieve their meals.Frisk’s nose and fingers were still a bit numb, but the cozy restaurant was slowly but surely warming her up. “I should really sew some pockets into this lousy excuse for a sweater sometime.” Frisk commented while breathing onto her red fingers.“Heheh. Why don’t you just wear a better sweater?” Sans asked her.“Yeah I guess that’d be smart. But it would never be as nice as yours.”Sans looked down at his raggedy old stained hoodie and said, “I'd hardly describe it as that.”“You just say that because you wear it all the time. But to me, that thing’s like freaking heaven.” Frisk responded.“But it’s stained and falling apart- see the thread coming undone here? And whattabout these holes? And I haven’t washed it in forever…” Sans was confused as to how she found it such a great sweater. Sure, it was warm, but he didn't think girls would be fond of old, smelly, worn-out clothes, which this hoodie could practically be the definition of. Welp, Frisk wasn’t the usual Human girl. That's for sure.“But it’s yours.”Using amusement as his concealment for flattery, Sans smirked and gave her a questioning look, raising the space above his eye socket where there would have been an eyebrow. As he watched the blood slowly creep into Frisk’s face, he felt a small pang of guilt for putting her in the awkward position. He could have simply said something along the lines of: “aw, thanks kiddo” and left her to believe he simply enjoyed her cute, kiddie adoration of him, but that would’ve been misleading. He also felt a bit of satisfaction at seeing her in a position she put him into on a regular basis. Take that, Frisk. Not a comfortable feeling, being flustered, is it? Especially when they’re looking right at you and you’re trying so hard to keep your cool even though your body gives it away by blushing. Lucky for me, you don’t know I’m blushing when I am, but I know you are heheheh.“Well, y-yeah! You’re like, reassuring. Your hoodie! That is, I mean.” Sans had to fight to stop himself from laughing out loud at her awkwardness.“Like, I’m comfortable around you so your sweater’s comfortable and I like it so much because I like you AS A FRIEND OF COURSE ‘cause your sweater’s like a part of you ‘cause you’re always wearing it, not that that’s bad or anything it’s nice it’s cool and- oh hey, look! Here’s our food! Thanks Grillby!” Sans wasn’t able to catch every word Frisk had rushed out in her nervous frenzy, but he got the main gist of it. Now that Frisk was likely preoccupying herself with eating, Sans picked up his burger and looked down at it, thinking that this would be a good time to let his laughter out quietly while Frisk wasn’t paying attention. But, instead of laughter, a small smile broke out on his face. He could also feel his cheekbones getting a bit warm again, but he didn’t bother worrying about it since Frisk wasn’t looking-He was wrong.“Why does that keep happening?” Frisk was looking at him thoughtfully with a bite of burger in her mouth. Sans was fighting back laughter once again.He forcefully straightened his face. “Why does what keep happening, kid?” Sans played dumb and busied himself with putting a puddle of ketchup inside his burger.“Your cheeks. Why do they keep turning blue? You can’t possibly still be cold, can you?” Frisk took another bite of her burger and Sans chuckled as he put his back together. It was funny how his cheeks were doing the exact same thing hers were just a moment ago, but in a different shade. And she had no idea.“What’s funny?” Frisk questioned.“Oh, nothing.” Sans made his face neutral again and took a bite of his soft, messy, round sandwich. He casually but quickly changed the subject, trying to make her forget about this one. “So how was work today-?““Are you doing it on purpose? Goddamn it. “Wha-?“ Sans sighed inwardly.“Is it something only Monsters can do? Or-““It’s not something you really choose to do.” What are you doing, Sans?“Oh. Oh! Oh. Hmm…” Frisk looked away and put on her thoughtful face. Seriously, Frisk. Is it really that hard to tell I’m blushing? Monsters aren’t that difficult to understand. Didn’t you hook up those guards RG01 and 02 at some point just by reading 01’s body language? Perhaps it was Sans’ lack of body language that guarded him so well. Heheh, was that a pun? Nah, didn’t really work in his context. He had done a good job in keeping his actions under control when he was flustered… so maybe that was it: he hadn’t acted flustered enough to make Frisk realize he was flustered. It took a lot of work though. Sans sent out a silent prayer to the stars, wishing that things wouldn’t get harder any time soon.Frisk was still gazing intently ahead of her, and Sans couldn’t help but take this opportunity to admire her profile. Her round nose with a light sprinkle of freckles over the bridge… her thick, dark lashes… her round, baby cheeks she hadn’t completely grown out of yet… her glistening pink lips… there was even a small spot of ketchup on the corner of her mouth. He thought about how easy it would be to just reach out and wipe the bit of ketchup off her face with his finger, then maybe he’d lick it off his finger as she watched open-mouthed, then he’d smirk and say innocently, “What? You know I love ketchup.” And he’d satisfyingly watch as she’d stutter with rosy cheeks-Frisk then turned to look at him, snapping him out of his fantasy. His reflexes betrayed him; he quickly looked away and, realizing his not-laid-back-ness, blushed again. God DAMN IT. Getting distracted for just a moment makes all his composure fall apart. And if that happens too often, the whole act will fall apart.“There it is again! Why does that keep happening?” Frisk turned to face him excitedly with a determined expression.“I dunno! I mean, I guess I do…” Sans’ voice progressively got quieter as he saw what Frisk had started to do. Oh no... Noticing that her fingers were covered in burger juice, Frisk began to lick them clean, seeing as there were no napkins nearby. “Huh? Dude, I can’t hear you when you mumble.”Good. He thought.She then seemed to notice that the palm of her right hand needed a good lick, so she used the flat of her tongue to get the job done. This was giving Sans uncontrollable and unwanted thoughts and if he didn’t do something soon, his speech would become uncontrollable too. But he needed to say something so she wouldn’t notice how mesmerized he was by her tongue and lips and fingers and hands. At least she wasn’t looking at him.“Well uh… there's a lotta differences between Humans and Monsters, y’know?” Like shades of blushing?She laughed a bit. “Of course!” Then- oh no, are you kidding me? She put both her index finger and middle finger of her right hand into her mouth and started sucking on them. Who does that innocently? Frisk, apparently.She then looked up at him through her eyelashes and- Stars, why is that look so inherently flirtatious? And he had to tear his eyes away from her mouth to meet her gaze, which wasn’t too easy since her mouth was just centimetres from her eyes and demanding attention. “But what does that have to do with your face turning blue?” She asked.When will she be done with licking her fingers? This is seriously exhausting, Sans thought frustratingly. It was getting progressively more difficult to block out or ignore the sexual fantasies, like how her fingers could be his, wet with something else of hers, moving in and out of her mouth, feeling her tongue swirling around, then he would tell her to look at him and she’d comply and moan a bit and sigh as her eyelids flutter shut every once in a while, cheeks flushed red and those pink lips he would run his thumb along…Stop it, Sans! She’s still looking at you, and waiting for a response! He looked back at her, properly, and said rather unhelpfully: “Well, like, different colours, y’know?”Now she was even more confused. She giggled and said, “Sans, what are you talking about?” He mentally face-palmed and cursed the stars for ignoring or rejecting his prayer. They were probably laughing at him right now. On the inside, he felt like he was falling apart, but he probably just looked like he was paying a bit too much attention to Frisk’s pretty mouth. But if he wasn’t trying so hard, he was sure he’d fall apart for real.“Damn you, stars.” He muttered under his breath.“Huh?”“Nothing. Hey Grillby?” His flaming friend was next to him a bit sooner than usual, as if he knew Sans would need him to come to the rescue in some way at some point.“Heheh. Could I get a couple shots of whiskey?” He thought he deserved it tonight. Grillby nodded, and before he turned around to the alcohol-stocked shelves behind him, Frisk said, “Me… too?” And looked at Sans hopefully.“Make that three, Grillbz. Also, we could do with some napkins. Thanks.” Grillby nodded and proceeded to get their drinks.Frisk laughed sheepishly. “Thanks, Sans.” Then she smiled at him. Though Frisk was playful and a bit childish at times, she was always excited when she was allowed to partake in “adult things”. This would distract her from pursuing his blushing. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t let her drink a bit before: when Frisk was fifteen, she asked Sans if she could try one of his shots. He let her have half of it, which was a good thing since right after swallowing it with a scrunched up face, she complained about how bad it tasted and that it hurt and “How do you do that so easily?” He told her that after a few tries, it’s not so bad and you get over it.“And besides, you don’t drink it for the taste.” He had said and winked at her.“Then why do you do it?” She asked. “I'll show you.” By the end of that night, Sans was under the influence of ten shots worth of that whiskey. He was quite proud of his tolerance, and Frisk was amazed. She watched him down each shot with a look of bewilderment and wonder, and with constant laughter, she watched him being an absolute wreck later on. She had smile wrinkles from all the entertainment Sans gave her, and he remembered seeing them and feeling absolutely great, knowing that he could make her smile that much.He taught and discussed drinking and being drunk with her for the duration of his first four or five shots, but after that, he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight and gave up trying to properly communicate, instead letting himself be drunk and let her see what exactly that meant.Ever since that night, he would let her have a drink or two once or twice a week. She had never gotten more than tipsy, but he noticed that with two shots, she’d be a little more prone to laughter and clumsiness. She would probably be able to handle three or four drinks at a time, now that he thought of it. What were Humans her age doing up there drinking-wise? He didn’t know. He supposed he could ask her another time if she wanted to try one more than usual. She’s seventeen, it can’t hurt. And he’s a cool guy.It had been around fifteen minutes since they had finished their dinner and drinks. After some light chatting and bickering during that time, Frisk eventually turned to Sans and said, “Letting me have a shot succeeded in distracting me from our conversation about your face turning blue,” Sans snickered at her trying to sound sophisticated, or maybe that was just him being easily amused at the moment. “…But you were also kind of trash at making any sense-“ Sans laughed again. “…So I’ll just figure out this mystery myself.” She finished.“Will you really?” He said with an amused tone.“Yes. I am determined to find out why your face turns blue, Sans the Skeleton.” She said with, well, determination, and smirked.“Suure.” He responded, trying to sound unconvinced. But honestly, there was a bit of worry in the back of his mind. “Alrighty Frisk, let’s go home.”Frisk hopped off the barstool and walked towards the exit of the restaurant, humming.“Put it on my tab, Grillbz. See ya.” Sans turned to follow Frisk, but then he heard a quiet voice say his name. Sans turned back around, and saw Grillby beckoning him closer with a crackling finger. Sans did as encouraged, and heard Grillby say with a knowing smile, “Good luck, Sans.”“Heheh… Thanks Grillbz.” He might need it. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Here, Frisk. You can uh, wear my hoodie again if you- if ya want.” Sans was holding his blue, white fur-lined hoodie out to her as the two of them stood by the exit of Grillby’s. Unlike the first time he offered, Sans was looking at her now, and she noticed that he did it with a subtly hopeful but nervous expression. There was a light blue tint on that expression as well. Gosh, I really have to find out what that blue means. It didn’t sound like the weather was as harsh as before they had dinner, and Frisk felt she wouldn’t need an extra layer for the short walk home now, but… she found that she didn’t really care whether it was necessary or not to accept his offer again; the fact that he had offered made her feel like blushing again just because it was Sans and his hoodie. And the look on his face and the hesitation in his voice made her heart flutter -- she felt an urge to both kiss him and make fun of him for being less laid-back than usual. Kiss him... I wish I could. She pushed the thought away and responded with a smile, “Sure, Sans. Thanks.” As they made to exchange the sweater, she felt his bony hand brush her soft one for the second time that night. But, rather than continuing to look down like the last time, a bit embarrassed, she forced herself to subtly look up at him. His gaze was still focused downwards, which she was thankful for since she must have been at least a little pink in the cheeks, and she was able to see that his were still a bit blue. Perhaps a bit darker than before, but it was so slight a difference that it could have been a shadow or her imagination.While Frisk was putting on the blue treasure she was granted to borrow by Sans, she figured that she might as well indirectly begin her investigation of Sans’ face turning blue, whether he knew it or not. Plus, she had wondered a couple times what the answer would be to the question she was about to pose.“So… how does temperature affect you? Or skeletons, that is? ‘Cause you didn’t seem at all bothered by that snowstorm on our way here.” It doesn’t look like temperature is the cause of his blue cheeks, but best to confirm.“Well, skeletons aren’t actually affected by external temperatures. Like the cold, or heat, or snow, or wind. Like, I can feel them, and tell that they’re there, but they’ll never bother me. Make sense? Sorry, it’s kinda hard to explain.”“Right…” So it isn’t the weather… Frisk mentally eliminated that possibility while doing the hoodie’s zipper up. “What about internal temperatures?”“Yeah, I'd be affected by those. Like when you have a fever; you feel hot and cold, on and off, even though your surroundings’ temperature could be totally normal and comfortable to anyone that wasn’t sick. It’s because your body is kinda messed up when you’re sick like that. That’s an internal cause because the feeling of those temperatures came from inside you, not the atmosphere or weather. Being drunk would also be an internal effect. Although alcohol actually cools the core of your body down, it warms up the outer edges of your body, which in your case would be your skin. Instead of heat being equally distributed throughout your body like usual, all the heat goes to the surface, leaving the very inside cold. This creates something like an illusion that makes you think alcohol raises your body temperature, but it actually does the opposite. It’s just because it heats up the outside of you, the part that you feel. Also, you’d be drunk, so your mind could be easily deceived in that state.”Frisk had long since finished preparing herself for the walk home. Sans’ hoodie was zipped up, its hood over her head, her hands in the pockets, but she didn’t mind that Sans’ explanation was a long and scientific one; she actually found it quite interesting. And she had no idea Sans could sound like such a teacher or scientific expert. It was kind of endearing, actually.“Um… heheh. Does that answer your question?” Sans scratched the back of his skull self-consciously.Frisk laughed. “Above and beyond, my friend. Don’t worry, though -- it was actually pretty interesting stuff.” Sans isn’t sick, and his cheeks were definitely turning blue before he started drinking tonight. Plus, two shots isn’t nearly enough to get him drunk. Seems temperature has nothing to do with this mystery. Frisk sighed inwardly.“Oh. Heheh… Cool.” Sans grinned. And with that, they stepped outside.“Oh gosh… Sans, look!” Frisk gasped and tugged excitedly on Sans’ t-shirt’s sleeve, temporarily forgetting about her investigation.“Oh yeah, the blizzard’s over.” He commented nonchalantly.“And it’s so pretty!” Frisk suddenly abandoned Sans’ side to frolic in the once again gentle and pleasing surroundings of Snowdin. She didn’t often carelessly run around and twirl and giggle like she was eight years old again -- or she liked to think she didn’t anyway, but when the current setting was absolutely lovely, she just couldn’t help it.Indeed, the blizzard was over, but the snowing wasn’t quite. With the wind being gone, flurries slowly floated down from the cavern’s “sky”, adding more to the fluffy white layer on the ground that already reached past halfway to her knees. The streetlights had automatically turned off at some point during hers and Sans’ dinner, darkening the town to recreate the idea of nighttime. Other than the Inn, Grillby’s was the only place in town that seemed to be open at this hour, so the light from his restaurant cast a faint yellow glow onto the snowflakes, contrasting with the overall darkness to create the gorgeous scene that Frisk was enjoying so much.Frisk was now stood where the path running through Snowdin Town would be if not submerged under snow, smiling as she gazed up above. She was vaguely aware of Sans grinning and slowly walking in her direction, but she only continued looking up at the darkness dotted with little clumps of falling snow. She stuck her tongue out to catch snowflakes that were also happening to land on her eyelashes, dotting the top of her vision with white and making her blink rapidly, when she came up with an idea.“Sans!” She brought her eyes back down to a horizontal level and turned around to face him. Being stood between her and Grillby’s restaurant, the warm golden light cast a sort of eerie and magical look onto him from behind. It could have been described as slightly creepy, the way shadows engulfed the outer edges of his figure -- but it was also quite intriguing looking. It was mysterious and ominous, and although Frisk expected Sans to have his regular uninterested but patient look on his face with a hint of boredom, she instead saw a subtle aspect of attentive interest and… awe? Curiosity? Wonder? Enjoyment? It was a rather soft and vulnerable look for the typically sarcastic and light-hearted skeleton that always had an underlying sense of guardedness, and Frisk felt kind of lucky to be able to see Sans in an unusual state such as this. After all, she couldn’t think of another time off the top of her head that she saw him wearing an expression like that.“Let’s make snow angels!” She called to him in delight.“What’s a snow angel?” He asked.Oh yeah, not everything’s the same down here as up there. Frisk laughed, and beckoned Sans closer. “Repeat after me.” Then, she let herself fall backwards, seeing as the snow was deep enough to break her fall. She then started moving her arms up and down, and her legs from side to side.“I don’t get it.” Sans said.“Wait and see, silly.”After a few more moving of her limbs in the snow, Frisk carefully stood up as to not mess up her angel, and said, “Ta da!”Sans made his way over to stand at her side to see from a better angle, and Frisk could feel her cheeks warm a bit at his closeness to her. Don’t be like that, Frisk. He’s just standing next to you. No meaning to that. Get over yourself already.“Oh, ‘cause it looks like an angel in the snow?”“Yeah!” She said a little too excitedly, trying to quiet her distracting thoughts.“Heh. Kinda cool.”“Now it’s your turn!”“Huh?”“You make one too! I’ll make another next to you.”“Kid-““Come on Saaaans.” She looked up at him from her spot on the ground where she had lain down in preparation for another snow angel.“Whatever you say, kiddo.” He sighed, then finally lay down next to her and started moving his arms and legs like she had.“You Humans find joy in strange things.” He said. But she could tell that he was still grinning, and she laughed.Eventually, the two of them stopped moving their arms and legs and fell into a comfortable silence. Although it was a bit chilly lying still in the snow, the sensation was refreshing and looking up into the cave’s dark ceiling where snowflakes kept drifting down from put her mind back into a thoughtful place. She thought back to seeing Sans’ unusual expression right before she decided they should both make snow angels, and now that she thought harder, she remembered seeing a similar look on his face a couple weeks ago: She, Sans, and Papyrus were wearing flower crowns Frisk had made while they were all hanging out at the garbage dump, and she remembered lying on the golden flowerbed, arms crossed under her head, eyes closed, reminiscing about when she first fell there. Then she had opened her eyes to see Sans looking down at her with a strange look on his face. But it was the same watchful, curious, thoughtful, and maybe even admiring face that she had seen a few moments ago. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but it was an interesting look to be on Sans’ face, and something about him looking at her that way made her feel all warm and self-conscious.“Whatcha thinkin' about there, buddy? I can see you smiling a bit.” She heard Sans say from beside her. Indeed, she was faintly smiling, thinking of the way Sans seemed to look at her sometimes, but she couldn’t exactly let him know that. She had a cover-up idea that could potentially be kind of fun.Frisk let herself continue to smile and she got up from her body’s print on the ground, walked a few feet, then bent down to pick up a small handful of snow. As she straightened up and began to mould the snow into a particular shape, she heard Sans grunt as he stood up behind her from his snow angel as well.“Whatcha got there?” He asked as he slowly approached from behind.This is shitty packing snow. Frisk thought, unsatisfied with her attempt at making a snowball. The snow would never remain a ball for more than a few seconds, so she’d have to be quick to act. And Sans was almost on her, about to ruin the element of surprise. She’d have to throw it… now.She swiveled around to face the skeleton and instantly threw the snowball, hitting him right in the chest. Sans casually looked down at the spot she hit him at, a couple spots of leftover snow on his t-shirt, then slowly and deliberately looked back up at her.“Oh, you’re gonna have a bad time.” He tried to look serious and foreboding with his empty sockets and low, gravely voice, but the grin that obviously wanted to grow wider gave him away. He sprung into action so fast that Frisk didn’t have time to dodge the hastily made snowball that hit her left shoulder. She squealed and ran a few meters away, picking up more snow and trying to make another ball as she kept an eye on him. As she looked back at Sans while absentmindedly trying to form another snowball, she saw that his kept falling apart as well. She could hear him cursing at the useless fluffy snow, then he called out to her, “This is shitty snowball snow!”“I know!” She called back and laughed, then frustratingly swore as her own snowball fell apart for the third time.“Screw this.” She looked up to see that Sans had abandoned his handful of snow and was now manipulating trails of blue smoke over a patch of snow close by. His left eye was blue from his magic as well, and he wore a focused expression with a wicked smile that made her think she wouldn’t like what he was about to do.When it appeared that he was finished whatever he was doing, Frisk nervously watched him lean down to pick up another handful of snow from the patch that he had used his magic on. After only a few seconds, he flung it towards her. Again, she didn’t have enough time to react as he threw it with quite a force, and seeing as it didn’t fall apart on its way to its target, like a proper snowball, she probably should have anticipated a harder hit that she did. It hit her on the arm, and she looked up at him, mouth agape. “That’s cheating!” He must have used his magic to turn that area of snow into actual packing snow!“Can’t have a snowball fight if you can’t exactly make snowballs.” He responded with that stupid evil grin. Great. Now she’d have to somehow get to that good snow he was guarding.Whatever. She’d just try and dodge his attacks while throwing and kicking bunches of snow at him. Sounds like a great plan, Frisk… Oh well. At least she was determined.She tried to mirror Sans' devilish smile he was giving her, then broke into a run. She saw him scramble to make another snowball as she focused on sprinting to her destination, and when she was about one or two meters away, she paused to kick a bunch of snow up, hopefully throwing his aim off. It worked; the snowball only grazed her arm, and when she noticed Sans’ growl of frustration, she laughed. Her victory was short-lived however, since her laughter caused her running to slow a bit, greeting her with a snowball to the face.“Ow!” She threw her hands up to brush the coldness off her face, scowling as it was Sans’ turn to laugh. Finally, she had made it to the magical patch of packing snow, and lucky for her, Sans was too busy laughing to notice her quickly preparing an attack. She felt a rush of satisfaction and relief when she was able to make a perfect sphere of snow in a few seconds, and Sans was still too preoccupied with laughter to dodge or protect himself against her shot -- which hit him right in the face too.“Bull’s eye!” She cried with joy. Sans wasn’t laughing anymore. Both of them were still for a moment before he started striding over to her.Uh oh. Frisk thought. She started walking, then fast walking, then running again as Sans began to chase her. Her boots crunched the dense snow as she ran over it and proceeded to make another snowball. After glancing for a millisecond back at Sans, she threw the snowball back towards him, which he easily dodged. He was gaining on her.Shit shit shit shit shit. Frisk tried to run faster, but her laughter was making her do the opposite. And soon after making another snowball, she felt Sans jump on her from behind, forcing her to fall forward to the ground. She threw her arms out to avoid falling on her face, making sure she didn’t crush her newly made snowball, then squirmed around so she was lying on her back. Sans still had the upper hand being on top of her, but at least if she was facing him she could attempt to hit him one last time-“Hey!” Sans had readily pinned her arms above her head, ripping her last plan to shreds. She pouted at him. “Saaaans.” She struggled to free her wrists from his skeletal grasp, but to no avail. She still held onto her snowball in one of her immobile hands, her very last hope.“Told you you’d have a bad time.” Sans grinned down at her.“Hmph.” She grunted, powerless.Powerless. Something about Sans on top of her pinning her arms down gave her a nervously excited feeling, to her confusion. And only then, did she notice that his face was just inches away from hers, making her tense and her cheeks warm up, momentarily followed up by Sans' face changing from smug to awkward realization. He must have noticed the same thing she did. She saw his cheeks colour blue again too.But, Frisk didn’t let her flushed state throw her off her goal. Since Sans’ guard was down just enough for her to free her hands, she did just that and quickly rolled the both of them over so that she was on top instead. Frisk straddled his lap, then took her last snowball and smeared it all over his face, laughing hysterically as he sputtered and tried to pry her hands away. After a combination of him succeeding and her stopping because there was no more snowball, Sans brushed the majority of the snow off his face and glowered at her.“What a turn of events, huh?” She smirked at him. It felt great to make a pun out of her victory, but when Sans’ response was only a confused look, she sighed.“You know, because I turned us over?”“Oh. Oh man… kid, why?” Sans groaned and she laughed again. She thought that was a pretty good one!When she finished her laughing fit, she looked back at Sans to find him regarding her with that strange look again. But something was different this time… apprehension? Like he wanted something. Frisk waited, but he didn’t do anything -- just kept watching her.Then she felt it again: that urge to kiss him.The snow falling around them, the far off golden light from Grillby’s, the fact that she was sitting on Sans’ lap, who made no move to get up anytime soon, and the way he was looking at her… she felt the need to do something in this situation.Without further consideration, Frisk leaned down and gave the skeleton a soft kiss on his left cheek. She had closed her eyes -- for what reason, she wasn’t sure; it just felt right, and she felt Sans tense beneath her. When she sat back up, the blueness was back, but in a darker shade than she’d ever seen, and Sans wore a slightly nervous and very confused expression. But he wasn’t pitiful, or scared, or disgusted, or angry… Her hopes rose inside of her, but she wouldn’t let herself get too excited yet with no proof of anything.“What-“ Sans cleared his throat. “…What was that for?” He asked her, his cheeks still tinged with blue.Frisk shrugged nonchalantly and attempted her best cool and confident voice to say, “’Cause you looked cute and- and I felt like it.” Damnit. Stammered a bit there. Sans only viewed her with a thoughtful and inquisitive look that still held a hint of confusion and… hope? That’s all Frisk could think of that other underlying emotion as.Suddenly feeling the cold from the wintery weather, a shiver ran through her body and she got off Sans. She saw him sit up and watch her out of the corner of her eye as she brushed snow off her knees, frowning at how her brown pants were soaked through in that area. She was grateful for the distraction of brushing herself off so she wouldn’t have to look at Sans and blush again. When she was done, she stuffed her wet, numb hands into the pockets of his hoodie and finally turned to him to say, “The cold finally got to me, time to get home and take a nice hot bath!” She smiled and set her pace back to their house.After a few steps, she subtly slowed her walk down to walk beside the skeleton she had kissed on the cheek a few minutes ago. They walked silently. Not in either a comfortable or uncomfortable way, just, uncertain. Unasked questions hung in the air between them, with an occasional ever-so-slight head turn in the other’s direction, that would occasionally get caught and force the head-turner to rapidly face forward again.At least the silence gave Frisk more time to contemplate Sans’ face turning blue. Not that she ended up contemplating for a very long time. The darkest blue I’ve ever seen his cheeks turn was when I kissed him. And they remained blue for a significant amount of time after that… And they were blue before then. Yeah, just when I realized how close we were when he was hovering over me in the snow, it was like his thoughts mirrored mine, because he suddenly got this startled and awkward look on his face. And his cheeks had turned blue. I had brushed it off as him being cold after he gave me his hoodie, but now that I know that skeletons aren’t affected by the weather, it can't have been that. His cheeks were also a bit blue when he offered me his hoodie the second time when we were about to leave Grillby’s, and when our hands brushed during the exchange. I know for sure because I watched him that time. There were definitely a number of times during our dinner as well that his face got blue. I can’t exactly pinpoint all of them, but I clearly remember one where he had quickly turned his face away from me as well as colouring when I looked over at him. It isn't very Sans-like: acting fast and self-consciously, and neither are those strange looks he keeps giving me from time to time. It's possible that I was just amusing him, my activeness and playfulness dumbfounding his lazybones into silent curiosity. But I was sure I'd seen something like awe, or maybe even admiration in his face. It was more than just attentive watchfulness; he looked transfixed by something. Transfixed by me? When Frisk discovered that she was the one thing in common between Sans’ cheeks turning blue, it all started to make sense. Wasn’t giving someone your coat (or in this case, sweater) to keep them warm considered a romantic gesture? Accidental closeness or touching: when she went to return or borrow Sans’ hoodie, she had looked down in embarrassment the first time, but the second time… he was looking down with that blue tint. When they fell together in the snow, they were so close they could have easily kissed. Actually kissed. And he seemed legitimately flustered when she kissed his cheek. Haha. Never thought I’d be calling Sans flustered. Her second realization: almost every time Sans’ cheeks turned blue, hers were red. The hoodie, the brush of hands, the fall in the snow, the kiss, explaining the kiss… Blushing. How could I be so stupid? She couldn’t jump to conclusions though, she had to make sure of her guess. She had to do something more. And she had a feeling she’d need a well thought-out plan for that.This was going to be a long bath. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Frisk seemed kind of… out of sorts today. She and Sans had gone out to Grillby’s for dinner again after her work like the usual, but the way she was acting certainly wasn’t the usual.Of course Frisk could be thoughtful and sometimes prone to daydreaming, but not usually enough so that she wouldn’t hear what he said to her or wasn’t very aware of her surroundings. When she came home to pick him up before dinner, she had tripped while walking down their porch steps, staring into space ahead of her. Sans had put his hands on her arm and back to steady her at the last moment, made sure she was alright, and then they had been on their way after he perhaps took a lingering look at her flushed face with his hands still lightly placed on her. And throughout their dinner and the way there and back, he would often have to start a conversation twice or repeat a question he asked her. She was fine and involved once they started talking, but as soon as there was a break or an end to the chain of thoughts, she would go back to hers. And then he would have to capture her attention again. He decided to instead say her name first so he wouldn’t have to repeat a whole question or sentence, but even then he would have to say it twice or louder the second time. He wasn’t really irritated -- he was a patient and laid-back guy, but he also liked not having to do work. So he let her daydream or think or wonder or whatever it was she was so preoccupied with, not making too much conversation while they ate. She even ate slower, more proof that she wasn’t her usual self today.He asked her at some point what she was even thinking so deeply about, but all he got in response was: “Just… things. I dunno.” It wasn’t a very satisfying answer obviously, but he understood how it felt to be thinking of too many things or the types of things you couldn’t really explain to someone right off the top of your head. He shrugged and let her fall back into her mind hole.As well as staring into space, taking a while to answer Sans, and the occasional clumsiness (she somehow managed to get her foot stuck on one of the barstool’s legs as they were preparing to leave, causing herself to almost trip again), he noticed that she would sometimes smile randomly during her lost-in-thought phases. When he saw her doing so, he would ask what’s funny, and she’d just shake her head, still smiling, and say it was nothing. Once or twice, he actually heard her laugh under her breath as well. She’d look at Sans expectantly with her hand over her mouth when she realized he knew, but, not anticipating a useful answer if he asked, Sans would only raise the space above one of his eye sockets in an amused way and go back to whatever he was doing. However, for the same amount of time she spent oddly smiling, there would be instances that she would wear a worried or concerned expression too; her thoughtful face would be more upset than contemplative and a crease would appear between her eyebrows. The look only lasted a minute or two at a time though, so Sans didn’t worry too much about it. He only grew more curious: what the hell could she be thinking about?There was something else he was worrying about to some extent though.The day before, he had lost a bit of his control over his flustered-ness. Not drastically, but all it would take is a couple stammers accompanying his blush (which has happened now) to set her on the right track. Now that he had actually acted flustered, it would be easier for her to put the pieces together. Would she? Oh stars, would she? Frisk was youthful, but not dense. She would find out eventually, and probably sooner rather than later, since she was on a mission to find out why his cheeks turn blue anyway. He didn’t want to be so frightened about Frisk potentially discovering how he felt about her, but it was automatic; there was the obvious worry over whether or not she would feel the same. He knew he couldn’t pretend forever, but he wanted to wait to perhaps pursue her when she was a bit older -- maybe then he’d have a better chance when she wasn’t as childlike and innocent. Although, there was always the chance that he was underestimating her -- after all, he couldn’t read her mind and she did tend to blush at the same times he did…But still, he really hoped nothing bad would come of this. ~ It was like studying for a test: reviewing everything in your head in preparation for the real thing. Pulling the thoughts apart and putting them back together again, repeating this process over and over until you were sure it would stick and you couldn’t get it wrong.It wouldn’t just be a look; how open would her eyes be? Half-lidded in consideration? Round and open with fascination and eagerness? Where would they be focused? Right back at him? Momentarily captivated by his mouth? Up through her eyelashes? What shape would her mouth take? Slightly open expectantly? Biting her lip shyly? Smirking enticingly? Or smiling innocently? A laugh with her tongue cheekily between her teeth?She wouldn’t just be talking; her voice would be attentive and intrigued, as if her focus was only on one thing (which it would be). It would lilt and sound cheerful. She would appear interested, and sound inviting, but always hold a bit back.She wouldn’t just sit or stand; her stance would be friendly and alluring. Casual, calm, non-critical, turned towards him. She would get (and remain) close, but not too close, give a few light but intentional touches, maybe twirl her hair ‘absentmindedly’ a bit, and repeat some of his movements (like leaning backwards or forwards or reaching for a drink).If you hadn’t guessed already, Frisk’s ‘test’ was to flirt with Sans. “Operation Sans”: she called it.The night before, she had brought her phone into the bathroom with her in case she would need to do some research during her bath for her big plan, which she did. She needed to know if Sans really was interested in her romantically, and the easiest way to find that out was to flirt, it seemed, according to practically everyone. She had visited more than half a dozen websites on how to actually flirt, but she was still nervous about doing it later. She only really learned what flirting was last night, so she had spent almost half the day internally memorizing and perfecting everything she was going to do. She wasn’t able to think about it very much during her work though -- in the first hour, she forgot about a third of the chores her manager had asked her to do, she went to the wrong storage closet to get supplies for one of them that she didn’t often do, she almost mixed up a couple of room service snack orders, she got one of her a co-workers a small sized coffee (like they usually wanted) when they asked for a large instead; she was listening when they told her that they wanted more because they had a late night last night, she had just put her brain on auto-pilot once she got to the coffee machine, as she had done several times that hour.Her manager was sweet and not particularly easy to anger, so when she noticed Frisk walking back and forth from places and asking for reminders or confirmation of what she was supposed to be doing, the inn-running and mother rabbit stated more out of concern than irritation that Frisk seemed distracted. Frisk had apologized and reassured her manager that she was okay, just thinking a bit too much, and tried not to think about Sans anymore until her shift was over. It was difficult and tempting since Operation Sans was going to be enacted today, but she generally managed.So, the only time of day Frisk had to mentally review Operation Sans, was during their dinner. It sucked a bit -- she didn’t want to miss out on their usual everyday banter, but it was, well, everyday. Flirting wasn’t. She was thankful that Sans had noticed her distractedness and let her keep to herself a bit more that evening, and she was glad that he didn’t seem to mind at all. That was something one wouldn’t know about Sans at first glance: he was good at reading people and what they would be appreciative of at that moment. He wasn’t the most active person of course, but he was always observing, and almost always considerate of what he noticed.She knew he was inquisitive to know what was even preoccupying her mind so much, but he only shrugged forbearingly at her lame excuses with his signature look of amusement. He wasn’t the type to pester, even when she would unexpectedly smile, laugh, or frown with no outwardly apparent reason. Maybe she would someday tell him why she kept doing that throughout their dinner -- if Operation Sans was a success -- but for now, she was content with him being too indifferent to pursue it.It was when her imagination accompanied her ‘studying’, that she couldn’t help occasionally showing an external reaction. When she thought about ways he could respond to the Operation -- like flirting back, she would smile a bit. If she would envision him starting to act all awkward and flustered and cute, she might snicker under her breath. But what made a slight frown sometimes come upon her face, was when she thought about the possibility of rejection. It was unlikely that he would become disgusted or angry; not many things could get him into that state and they had a chill and forgiving friendship -- but what if he just platonically called her adorable and brushed it all off? Or laughed at her? At worst, he could become awkward in a bad way and they wouldn’t talk normally for a while, and that would be so unnatural and embarrassing and agonizing to Frisk. She could always attempt to make a joke out of it or say that she was using him for practice on someone else, but, as much as it freaked her out, she wanted to come clean about how she’d felt for a while now.That unavoidable and decisive thought was what kept her determined enough to keep reviewing her looks and attitude and stances and overall technique: she couldn’t wait any longer to get this off her chest. And, her assumption of his cheeks turning blue meaning that he was blushing, was what gave her reasonable hope that he could feel similarly in the first place.But still, she really hoped nothing bad would come of this. ~ Something even stranger than Frisk being slightly unresponsive from her absentmindedness, was when that all seemed to completely disappear once she and Sans got home. As soon as they walked through the door, she asked him if he wanted to watch the movie Ponyo with her, then almost never ceased to make conversation from then on. It was one of those Ghibli movies Alphys had lent when Frisk was younger, except she had loved it so much that she “forgot” to return it. Alphys seemed to have forgotten as well, so it worked out. But over the years, the sort of-anime film had lost her interest; although Frisk acted a bit playful and childish as part of her personality, Ponyo wasn’t mature enough to keep her sat down and focused, it became more of a casual background noise. Always sweet and adorable, but not quit engaging enough. Sans wondered, why did she ask him to watch that movie then? Maybe she wanted to catch up on the everyday banter they missed over dinner… that would be nice. He hadn’t hesitated to agree of course -- he almost never turned down an opportunity to hang out with her (that fact became more of a reflex than a choice when he started developing feelings for her a year or so ago). Besides, it wasn’t like he had any other plans for the night.“So how was your day, Sans?” Frisk chirped, flopping down next to him after putting the movie in the disc player.“Uh… was fine, I guess. You?” Sans replied, slightly startled by her sudden wholehearted and focused speaking.“It was pretty quiet, being lost-in-thought all day.” She adjusted herself so that she sat cross-legged on the green couch and pressed the play button on the remote when the movie’s menu popped up.“All day? What could possibly manage to capture Frisk’s attention that much for that long?” Sans said in a joking tone, but genuinely confused and taken aback that Frisk was even unfocused long before their dinner.“You’ll see.” Frisk responded secretively, then glanced over at him and winked with a smirk.What even…? Sans thought incredulously. He, himself, winked on a regular basis casually and just because it was fun, but when Frisk did -- and that was rarely, it was to be ironic. But the way she did it now… she was actually being cheeky. Weird. But admittedly, enticing.“Did you just wink?” He asked, trying to look amused and appalled rather than mildly attracted.“What did it look like?” Frisk replied teasingly again.Sans for sure wasn’t complaining about her behaviour (it was pretty cute), but it was so out of the blue that he just couldn’t ignore it. “Why are you acting so playful right now? But not childish-playful, more like-““So many questions. What could possibly manage to provoke Sans into using his energy to speak this much?” Frisk faked shock as she based her dialogue off of Sans’ from earlier.“’Cause first off buddy, it’s unlike you, and second, just minutes ago you were so silent with distractedness that I had to use my energy to catch your attention. I just wanna know-““Aw… look at all the little Ponyos!” Her interruption from unexpectedly being more interested in the human-fish things on the screen at the moment, honestly sounded a bit forced.“Frisk-““Pshdsjldbhpst shush!” Her index finger all of a sudden came to rest against his mouth while she continued staring at the TV, trying to hide a smile. And although the contact of his mouth with her soft, warm finger made his heart skip a beat, he still pursued.“No one’s even talking!” He gestured to the movie, where Ponyo the human-fish thing was still being shown just swimming around and breathing bubbles and stuff.“Yeah, except you.” Frisk laughed as she turned to face him and poked her finger between his eye sockets before returning it to her lap. “You know, usually it’s Papyrus that has a hard time being quiet.” She pointed out matter-of-factly.“Hmph.” Sans crossed his arms and slouched back into the saggy couch, defeated. Whatever. Frisk said he’d find out what was going on with her later, so he might as well enjoy it and make the normal conversation he missed at dinner, during the calm and familiar animation.“So have ya learned your lesson about Snowdin weather?” Sans asked and waited for her answer to expand on what he meant.“Huh?” Frisk looked over, confused but still with that unexpected, more-adorable-than-usual vibe.“You should start bringing a coat or somethin’ to work, in case there’s another weird snowstorm someday.” Sans suggested. It was probably a miracle that Frisk didn’t get sick from yesterday -- all that walking in the blizzard as well as their snowball fight… thing.Yeah, snowball fight thing. Snowball fight that ended with Frisk leaning down from her seat on Sans’ lap to kiss his cheek, turning Sans into a furiously blushing and flustered mess. He hadn’t been able to get the memory out of his head for just five minutes since it happened, and it even kept him up last night later than usual. He was torn today between wanting to talk even more to Frisk over their dinner to see if anything changed between them, and letting himself ponder his thoughts silently. Frisk sort of ended up making the decision for him though, being as she was far too distracted in her own head to upkeep a conversation for long, so he did pretty much the same thing.The scene of Frisk straddling him in the snow, then kissing him, then blushing as she stammered out her reasoning to be that he looked cute and she felt like it, replayed itself over and over again, occasionally even managing to make Sans blush, just by reminiscing. Sans hadn’t done anything -- and she had just leaned down and pecked him. It wasn’t on the mouth, but in some way, she had wanted to kiss him. And she did. Was there a chance she was attracted to him? Was there a chance she felt like he did? Did he have more of a chance with her than he thought?“Meh, there aren’t that many blizzards. And if there was one, I could just use your hoodie.” Frisk said casually, but with the hint of a smile Sans caught while watching her profile as she gazed forward at the movie Sans was barely paying attention to. He was suddenly a bit flattered; she wanted to wear his hoodie more? Then, momentarily losing her smooth composure and tone, she turned and added hastily, “That is, if you wouldn’t mind, of course.”Why the hell would he mind? If anything, he’d love to lend his sweater to her on a regular basis. And didn’t she know skeletons aren’t bothered by the cold? Oh Frisk, the ever-so-kind Human.Sans adjusted himself on the couch so that he wasn’t slouched so low -- his neck wasn’t all that comfortable, then responded: “You like my hoodie, huh?” He didn’t mean it to sound as smug as it did, but the way Frisk regarded him with ogling eyes and pink cheeks with her mouth slightly open… it was definitely a pleasant surprise.“I- well, I-““Nah, of course I don’t mind, kid.” Sans waved his skeleton hand dismissively and grinned warmly at her, expecting the smile to be returned.But it wasn’t. Instead, Frisk was making a displeased face at him. Not irritated or mad, just… displeased.“What?” He asked warily. Did he do something wrong?She sighed. “Just… must you keep calling me ‘kid’, Sans? I’m seventeen, you know.”“Oh.” He scratched the back of his skull as he thought, not gonna be so easy breaking out of that habit. “Whattabout ‘kiddo’?”With an accusatory cry of his name, Frisk reached over and hit Sans’ arm, Sans laughing at his own joke and the outburst of its reaction. When he didn’t stop his snickering, Frisk continued hitting him playfully, alternating hands, and eventually uncrossed her legs and lunged to tackle him. Sans was on his back on the green cushions, with Frisk’s legs on either side of him, pinning him to that position as she kept smacking him lightly on his chest and arms.This is like yesterday in the snow. Sans realized.Maybe Frisk had realized too, or she was just having fun messing him up, since he could see her grinning to herself now too. But after a minute or so of her onslaught, Sans was growing a bit tired from all the laughing and useless attempts to bat her hands away.“Stars, Frisk. Let up already!” He cried through his laughter.Suddenly, the hitting stopped. Sans opened his eye sockets that he didn’t realize he had been squeezing shut, and almost started when he noticed that Frisk had leaned down closer to his face, only a few inches away. He could feel her breath as she spoke, almost in a whisper.“Make me.”Sans could feel his cheeks warm at the tone of voice she used with those choice words, even though they weren’t blatantly erotic or anything. And then he saw her smirk down at him.Wait.What was she smirking at? He hadn't said or done anything. All he had really done was blush, and then she- Oh. All he had really done was blush. And then she smirked. Oh shit. Does she know? ~ Well that line seemed to have an effect. Frisk thought satisfyingly as she smirked down at the blushing Sans. While doing her research on flirting, she had come across a page with examples of things to say that, despite being totally innocent, somehow created sexual tension almost all of the time. Frisk didn’t really understand how that could be, but when she watched the attached video from some movie or TV show of two Humans having a conversation about something she didn’t understand, the blonde guy saying the line when the dark haired guy told him to shut up about something, suddenly made Frisk understand the effect the line “make me” could have. The way the guy said it, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to the, in turn, hesitant black haired guy that couldn’t seem to help but glance down at the other guy’s lips, definitely gave Frisk the idea that they were both thinking of, or about to, kiss. But before that could actually happen, the scene ended, and then the clip did, making Frisk sigh frustratingly. She was so frustrated actually, that she abandoned her research for a bit to instead try to find more videos of the two guys, but one where they actually kissed. She knew it was a bit silly to instantly assume they must have at some point, but she had such a strong feeling that that was the case.After using the title of the video (“Dean and Cas ‘Make me’ scene”) to search for others, she only became even more frustrated when she found an abundance of similar videos where the guys would stare intensely and glance down at each other’s lips, but never kiss. Also, a weird thing she noticed while watching so many different clips from the (seemed to be) show, Cas (as Dean called him) always wore the same thing: a suit and long beige coat. Maybe it would make sense if she actually watched the program. She did find edited videos of the two characters kissing or doing… other things, but they were obviously fan-made and fake. It seemed she wasn’t the only one that really wanted the two guys to just get on with it. Frisk was reminded of one of Mettaton's signature lines: “Oh my god, would you two just smooch already?”She wondered if someone would be thinking the same thing about her and Sans right now, if they were on a TV show.Because after a moment of blushing and stammering slightly with larger-than-usual white pinpricks, Sans’ expression became more controlled as he slowly lifted his head off the sofa, up towards Frisk. Suddenly, Frisk’s smooth and smug demeanor faded away, leaving her frozen in place by anticipatory surprise. Was this it?Apparently not. Or not yet anyway, because Sans then smirked mischievously -- no more than two inches from Frisk’s mouth -- right before his unmistakable smoky blue magic enveloped and lifted her about a foot above his body.“Oh, what the-!” She said at the unexpected but recognizable feeling of nothing touching her body, without actually falling. He had taken her by surprise twice in the past like, five seconds, and although she was kind of disappointed that he didn’t end up connecting their mouths, her original plan was to kiss him herself. Not that she would mind if he beat her to it, but she was definitely having fun being the surprising one -- seeing and hearing his confused or flustered responses was more enjoyable than she thought it would be. She was looking forward to finding out what he would do if she kissed him on the mouth.Wait, when did she become so confident that he would react positively?From beneath her floating form, Sans chuckled at her squinty-eyed pout before using a twitch of his index finger to move his Frisk-containing cloud of magic to the other end of the couch. But he didn’t place her back in her seat like she thought he would, instead, he sat her on the very edge of the armrest, then shortly after released his hold on her.Having nothing to balance Frisk on the armrest anymore (and she was never thoroughly prepared for when Sans let go of his power being used on her), she squealed as she fell the short distance to the floor.“Heheh, get dunked on!” She heard Sans call victoriously before dissolving into laughter. She repositioned her limbs a bit so that she lay on her back on the soft, carpeted floor with her legs leaning against the side of the couch, bent over the armrest. She was smiling at the recent chain of events, but, having not said anything since so gracefully tumbling off the sofa, Sans asked her when his laughter had died down a considerable amount, “You alright there, kiddo?”“Goddamnit, Sans!” She cried from the floor. He was calling her that on purpose.She heard him laugh again. “You really don’t like me calling you that, huh?”“Yeah! It makes me feel like a little kid, which I’m not! And it’d be weird ‘cause you’re not and-“ Whoops.A beat of silence. And why exactly would it matter how old Sans was? Frisk couldn’t be awkward though, so she decided to say something casual before the silence stretched too long.“How old are you, anyway?” She asked.Sans paused before answering. “Twenty or something.”She snickered, but also felt sort of relieved at the, well, almost confirmation. He wasn’t that much older than her!“’Or something’?” She forced her voice to sound more joking than excited at his answer. She never thought about his age much until she started taking a more-than-platonic interest in him, but once she did, she estimated that he was around two to four years older than her, but it was hard to tell since his attitude didn’t change much over the years. And she was never able to think of a suitable explanation to ask him directly. Her feelings and this situation seemed to finally get the better of her though, and she found that she didn’t really care that much. Operation Sans was going pretty good so far, and all this flirting stuff was somehow making her feel more confident.“Yeah, I dunno. Guess I got too lazy to keep count.” Frisk giggled; that’s Sans. She thought.“Nineteen at least,” He continued. “Twenty-two at the most.”“Right...”“I think.” He added, and they both laughed, Frisk on the floor, Sans on the couch. She could imagine him lying back in the same position that she last saw him in, comfortably enjoying not having to deal with her lighthearted slapping. She could imagine -- no, remember being so close to him, easily able to kiss him. And he had leaned up, gazing into her eyes, tricking her into thinking that he would! Was that intentional? If so, he was more of a tease than she anticipated.And if so, did that mean he suspected what her reaction would be? Did he know how she felt about him? If so, he hadn’t mentioned it out loud -- letting her know whether he felt the same or not, but he had kept her unsure about it. Was he playing the game too?“Make it evident that you’re interested, but always hold a bit back. The lack of surety on their side and your subtle behaviour of playing ‘hard to get’ will make their desire to pursue you stronger.” Frisk recalled one of those flirting advice websites saying. It seemed that Sans had made it evident that he wasn’t uncomfortable with the idea of being in Frisk’s personal space, but he hadn’t gone through with it -- kissing her, that is. Sans didn’t strike her as the type of guy that would search up flirting techniques, so maybe he was just a natural, because he was definitely motivating her even more to pursue him.And that’s what made Frisk determinedly get up from her surprisingly comfortable position on the floor: if they were both going to play this teasing, interested but in-control game called flirting, so be it.So be it. Frisk laughed internally at herself. She wasn’t exactly reluctant, the idea actually thrilled her.“Heya Sans?” Frisk reverted back to her soft and cheery, flirty tone as she changed positions: crouched on her toes, arms crossed over the couch’s armrest with her chin resting on top of her hands.“Yeah buddy?” Sans said from his laid-back spot on the cushions, arms crossed behind his head.“Want a snack?” She asked him. “I could really go for some sodium chloride right now.”“I think there’s some chips in the fridge.” He replied, pleasing Frisk that he knew what she meant by that science-y name for salt she learned from Alphys.“Cool. And Sans?” Frisk stood up and leaned forward over the armrest, fully aware (but pretending not to be) of the fact that the collar of her shirt was gaping wide open, likely giving Sans a bit of a nice view. She noticed the white dots of his eyes slowly lower to where she intended, before hastily flicking back up to her face, and she couldn’t keep the smirk off her face as they continued to waver up and down.“You know what’s a great part of you?” And now she was smirking partly because of her upcoming play on words, as well as the light dusting of bright blue that appeared on his cheeks at the sort-of-compliment and presumably, her alluring pose.“Uh-“ He cleared his throat. He didn’t look as relaxed as he was a moment before, Frisk noted. “What’s that?” He finished.“You’re just… you’re so laid-back, man.” She said. Again, Sans didn’t instantly understand her pun -- only raised a confused and wondering bony brow -- so she gestured to his body that was, literally, laid back on the sofa.Realization and a smile dawned on his face. “Stars… really, Frisk?” He said right before she finally allowed herself to dissolve into giggles.“Okay, okay, I’ll go get the chips now.” She was still smiling as she fully stood up and turned in the direction of the kitchen, but then jumped in shock as Sans was suddenly stood in front of her, and quite closely as well.“Whoops. Too close.” He said nonchalantly while Frisk squeaked and flew her hand up to her racing heart.“Gosh, Sans! You know your so called short-cuts can startle people, right?” She sighed, dropped her hand back to her side, and tried to calm down after the little scare. Although, it was a bit difficult to do that when Sans made no move to back up or stop watching her face like that, and she could feel her cheeks heat up slightly before he smiled again and said, “I’ll get them. You sit and watch the movie.”He then guided her over to her original seat, his skeletal hands lightly placed on her lower back and upper arm the whole time. His hands may as well have been burning, as Frisk was so aware of where they touched her body.Then she was sitting down on the saggy old couch, staring ahead at the television playing Ponyo, unable to really pay attention to it. While Sans was off grabbing their snack, Frisk pondered what he had said when he teleported right in front of her: “Whoops. Too close.”? Sans had never miscalculated a ‘short-cut’ before- unless he was drunk -- so how come it just happened now?Did he mean to be close to her?That seemed like the only logical explanation, and the possibility of it made Frisk smile to herself.“Is Ponyo half-chicken yet?” Sans asked as he walked back from the kitchen, carrying a bag of potato chips.“No, why?” Frisk replied. Indeed, the movie wasn’t that far in yet, but they had definitely missed out on a good chunk of it while messing around. “That’s not the only part you care about, is it?” She teased Sans as he sat down next to her and tore open the chip bag before sitting it on the sofa between them.“Nah of course not. I just thought that’s what you were smiling at.” He responded before putting a chip into his mouth. Oh, of course he would notice me smiling dreamily about him. Of course. Frisk thought exasperatedly as she continued to pay only half-attention to the film in front of them.“So… why were you smiling?” He asked before crunching on another chip.Shit. What was she supposed to say? Well, she could be a bit honest, while also avoiding the question…“You never miscalculate short-cuts. Unless you’re drunk, of course.” What would his response to her directness be? Frisk wondered, excited as she reached into the bag for a handful of chips and began eating a couple.“Hm?” He asked while chewing.“When you teleported in front of me, you said ‘whoops. Too close.’ But you’re usually so precise with where you end up. So what was up with that?” She expanded, tossing more chips into her mouth.When the next few seconds were silent, Frisk looked over at the quiet Sans, and smirked when she saw the hint of a blue blush on his face. Was her guess from earlier correct?“Look, a wish chip!” Sans changed the subject by picking a folded chip out of his handful and holding it up for Frisk to see.“Oh cool.” Frisk looked down at her small handful left and noticed that she, too, had a wish chip. “Me too!” She exclaimed before stretching her arm over her head to feed herself the so-called ‘wish chip’, as she was taught to do as a child.“What are you doing?” She heard Sans ask.“Eating the wish chip like you’re supposed to?” She replied, confused. Did Monsters not have a special way to eat wish chips? She finally got the chip in her mouth and proceeded to eat it while thinking of her wish, then saw Sans’ disbelieving expression when she looked back up.“How the fuck does doing that have anything to do with wishes?” He said, still holding his own wish chip.Frisk had never really thought about that, actually. “Uh, well...” Hm. “’Cause it uh, takes some effort? So like, with hard work, you can accomplish your wish?”Sans only stared at her. “You’re bullshitting me, aren’tcha?”“No…?”“Buddy, watch this.” Sans said, and then threw his chip into the air, tilted his head back, and effortlessly caught it on his blue tongue before pulling it into his mouth. And the whole time he chewed, he kept this weird but enticing piercing gaze on Frisk, making her want to both return it and look away. She ended up returning it.“Okay,” She swallowed. “So what’s the reasoning behind that tradition?”“With effort, and skill, and luck, your wish might come true.” Sans stated smugly. What a bonehead. Frisk thought. She then looked into the chip bag for another folded chip, found one, and threw it into the air with the intention of catching it with her mouth, like Sans had done.But she never got to make the same wish again, because the chip hit the corner of her mouth, then fell onto her lap. Frisk glared down at it, as if it had seriously offended her.“Welp. Looks like your wish ain’t comin’ true anytime soon.” Sans stated.She threw the chip at him.“Don’t throw your failed wishes at me!”“It’s not guaranteed to fail.” Frisk muttered, looking back at the television screen, but Sans had heard her.“Is that so?” He said jokingly.“Yeah.” She turned away from Ponyo and smirked at him, allowing herself to quickly glance down at his mouth, letting him have a hint of what her wish was, and that she knew from his behaviour that her chances of it coming true weren’t the lowest.Maybe he caught it, because the white in his eyes enlarged and took a fleeting look down to, what must have been, her mouth, as well. Frisk’s heart was racing again, and she could practically feel excitement thrumming through her body, like determination did in her times of need.“What… what was your wish then?” Sans voice was quieter than usual as his eyes failed to stay on her eyes. The same was happening to her too, she realized.She wanted to kiss him so badly; it was all she could think about. Should she? Was this the right time? Nothing was telling her not to…Did she have reason to believe that Sans would give her a positive reaction?Yes, she did.So, no longer thinking of anything other than kissing him, Frisk tore her eyes away from Sans’ face to quickly drop her handful of chips into the bag between them, and then dropped that onto the floor so that she could get closer.She crawled over to him, knelt on the soft cushions, took one last desire and longing-filled look at his mouth that was open slightly in awe, before grabbing the fabric of his hoodie to pull him forward. I’m kissing Sans. For quite a few seconds, all she did was press against his mouth. But when he didn’t retreat, she began to slowly open and close her lips alternatively over the top and bottom of the space around, and found that he did the same to her. Sans is kissing me back. It worked. Operation Sans worked. The thought made Frisk both giddy and desperate to take as much of him as possible, now knowing she could act on her yearlong crush. So, she couldn’t help smiling against their kiss before moving to straddle his lap and press harder, smiling again when he pushed back too and brought his hands up to bury them in her hair.Eventually, Frisk had to break away for air, as she was lacking it from all the adrenaline and kissing. They remained no more than a few inches away from each others’ faces though, Frisk still clutching Sans’ hoodie and Sans’ hands still in Frisk’s hair. Dilated pupils and pinpricks, blushing red and blue, breathless and staring into each others’ eyes endlessly.“My wish was for Operation Sans to be a success.” She said, and smiled again. It seemed to be all she wanted to do now. Well, other than kiss Sans, of course. “Glad it was.” She added.“’Operation Sans’?” Sans raised the space above one of his eye sockets, amusement lacing his voice.“Seeing how you reacted to me being, uh... flirty.” Frisk explained.“Ah.” He nodded, then grinned. “Yeah, I’d say it was a success.” He pulled her back into the kiss, Frisk smiling uncontrollably.The rest of the night could be summed up with the two of them still barely paying attention to the poor Ponyo movie, and more kisses than handfuls of potato chips. ~ The End ~
10733040	Rain Rain Go Away	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Reverse!Stanford Pines, Reverse!Bill Cipher, Stanford Gleeful, Will Cipher", "Fandom": "Gravity Falls", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by PumpkinChair (orphan_account)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-26T00:00:00", "words": "1,729", "Additional Tags": "Fluff and Angst, hinted angst, hinted emotional manipulation, Repressed Feelings, Will doesnt know what rain is, outside in a storm, save Will he's too pure", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Bill Cipher/Stanford Pines, Reverse Stanford/Reverse Bill", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Will was brought to this world in the late 1980’s. Stanford’s research was already underway, but he was running into problems making a multidimensional portal since he didn't know about other dimensions. So, begrudgingly, he summoned up a seemingly all powerful demon, thought he only couldn’t believe the pitiful creature was as dangerous as he was made out to be. William was the sweetest man he’d ever met, pure like untouched snow and eager to please. He liked the idea of traveling different dimensions, since that’s all he did. He gathered his vast knowledge by observation, but since Stanford’s was fairly new, he hadn’t gotten around to it yet; he didn't even speak english when they met. Will had taken a day to learn English under Stanford’s strict observation, but the demon seemed to describe words instead of the actual word. They should work on that one day.Right now, though, Stanford was mapping out more of the multiverse as Will had given him the locations of a few more dimensions, though his directions were vague at best. The demon used units of distance he hadn’t even heard of and if Will said “it's near this dimension” while pointing at the map one more time, Stanford was sure he’d tear the map apart. Usually while he worked, Will wandered around the house and asked lots of questions, inquiring about objects and their functions. Some days the scientist found his inquisitive mind endearing, but sometimes he found the fumbling, and consequent crashing, taxing on his patience. Today, though, it was silent. There was the soft pattering of rain against the windows and roof, sending a gentle white noise through the house. Stanford found it comforting, the crisp, cool smell keeping him relaxed while he sat in the usually stuffy room.Will hadn’t bothered the scientist all afternoon, hadn’t broken any valuables or popped in to ask a question about basic human life. Normally, Stanford would have been grateful, but it was unnerving to work without interruption. Pursing his lips, the scientist stood from his desk, peeking his head out of the office to peer down the hall in search of the demon. Neither bright blue hair nor a surprised shriek greeted him, so Stanford ventured out. Perhaps the demon had discovered something he shouldn’t have, which would be most unfortunate for him. Stanford’s perplexed expression darkened considerably as he searched around his home, checking on his other creatures while he was up and about. He had quite the collection going, but his prized possession was wondering about outside of his vision. It would be a great loss to have to kill the demon for overstepping boundaries he didn’t even know existed. Not finding Will in the common room, kitchen, library, or lab, Stanford was at a loss to his location, and the storm had gotten worse during his search.The scientist almost resummoned the demon before he heard laughter, pure, bright laughter that only belonged to William. Glancing around to locate the sound, Stanford caught a glimpse of bright blue outside his window. Cursing to himself, he got a closer look, squinting beyond the streaks of rainwater to watch the blue blob run around and vocalize its joy. Of course Will would go outside to play in a storm; he’d never learned the dangers of nature, or how fragile his human body was. Throwing on his shoes and a coat, Stanford rushed out onto the front porch, the cold air stinging his warmed face. “William!” He called, voice booming like the thunder rolling. Will was soaked to the bone, his clothes sticking to his skin in a probably uncomfortable way. His hair was plastered to his face, the curly blue locks finally straight for once. Spinning around at the sound of Stanford’s voice, those bright blue eyes seemed to light up even more in delight, and the scientist tried not to show his disgust at the sickening squelch from Will’s shoes twisting in the mud.“Stanford!” Will called in return, his voice high pitched and full of mirth, of life Stanford couldn’t wait to snuff out. “There’s water falling from the sky! And Electricity strikes across so beautifully!” He trudged his way over to the man, his feet getting stuck in the mud. Stanford got a better look at the demon’s disheveled state as he came closer and he nearly gagged. The dress shoes and pants Will wore were caked in dried and fresh mud, and it looked like he’d fallen a few times since he also had some mud on his face and torso. Water streamed down his face without resistance, as if he’d been out there all afternoon. His smile was blinding in the low sunlight, and he seemed completely content to be soaking wet and freezing cold. The only reason Stanford knew he could feel the cold was because Will often enthused about warmth and constantly curled up in his blankets.“Come inside; it's freezing and you’ll get sick.” Stanford cooed, trying to entice the demon back inside. Often times that was enough to convince Will to do what he wanted, but today didn’t seem to be the case. Instead, he grabbed the scientist by his hands and pulled him off the porch, into the pouring rain, before he could finish his request. He let out a noise of disgust as his shoes sunk in the mood, the cold instantly clinging to his skin and permeating his weak defenses. The rain was quick to flatten his hair and blot out his vision. “Will!” He hissed, ripping his hands from the demon’s grasp as if he’s been burned. A quick flash of rage flickered across his face before he steeled himself, watching Will’s smile twist to one of confusion.“Do you not like the falling water?” His voice was soft, almost lost under the much louder rain around them. What was a soft patter inside, was a heavy slap outside. “Is it dangerous? I don’t detect a dangerous pH level from it,” Will rambled on, trying to justify Stanford’s momentary loss of composure. He was used to the scientist being so calm and collected, so helpful and nice. Never had the man raised his voice at him for exposed anger.Stanford took a few minutes to compose himself, resigning himself to let the water cascade down his face and soak his clothes. He needed to be on Will’s good side, to entrap him with the one thing he was asking for: compassion. Ford poured out all the faux affections the demon was craving, the company neither of them had had for many years. Will was already so deeply in love with Stanford but it wasn’t enough. Stanford wanted to control, to own him mind, body, and soul. For now, though, he’d play along. After all, Will was just another creature for his collection. He pulled Will into his arms, effectively silencing his ramblings. Stanford flashed him a dazzling smile, not missing how the demon’s cheeks darkened from something other than the cold. Will was cold against him, pressing his soaked clothes tighter against his rapidly chilling skin. It was mildly uncomfortable for him, and he’d most likely end up sick, but that was a small price to pay for Will’s devotion.“It’s called rain,” He said, voice rumbling from his chest. Will had always admired his deep voice, the way it commanded attention and reverberated against his ear drums. It was a pitch his ears found pleasing, unlike his own grating voice. Will usually spoke softly because of this, conscious that his voice could cause headaches and sometimes make Stanford grumpy. He pressed his ear to Stanford’s chest like he normally would, comparing his heartbeat to the rain and the rumble of thunder to his voice. The man himself was like the storm they stood in. The scientist was all consuming, enveloping Will in his presence just like the rain was. Will tested this new word on his tongue, filing the information way for another time.“We should go inside, it's not good to be out in this weather for the human body.” Ford continued, only to be stopped when the demon wrapped his arms around his midsection and began to sway, humming a soft tune from one of Stanford’s many records. Now, it wasn’t uncommon that the two danced, since Will was fascinated by it and the Gleeful man actually enjoyed it, but never had Will decided to dance spontaneously. He supposed there was a lot he didn't understand about the demon.The rain had let up a bit, a soft patter now instead of the fat drops. It was almost as if it responded to Will’s will. Despite wanting to just heave the demon up and lug him back inside so he could go back to work and change clothes, Stanford found himself circling his arms around Will’s small waist, resting his chin atop his drenched hair. It was surprisingly… comfortable to dance in the rain despite the fact his shoes were now ruined and he had sunken a bit lower since he’d stopped walking. He subconsciously held Will closer to himself, squashing down the swell of affection when the demon pressed his face into his chest.Stanford didn’t love Will. He’d never love Will. He was just using him for his knowledge and trying to access that untapped power, or he told himself that. He didn’t want to acknowledge the way his heart was beating in his chest or how easily he was enveloping Will into his hold. This was all tactical, all for the greater cause, but when those blue eyes looked up at him with such tenderness, he couldn’t deny that his chest clenched, heart skipping several beats he was sure he needed. Stanford tilted Will’s chin up to get a better look at those soft, sapphire pools, watching the rain slide down his face like all the tears he saw Will shed when he broke something or got hurt. His gut clenched with an intense desire at the reminder of all the times Will looked so broken and lost, so vulnerable. He didn’t stop himself from capturing those lips, soft and pliant under his own chapped ones. He relished in Will’s surprised gasp. It was all for the end goal, he ensured himself. After all, Stanford Gleeful did not fall in love.
10729611	I Roam The City In A	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Multi", "Characters": "Charon (Fallout), Lone Wanderer, Three Dog, Ahzrukhal", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by MixterGlacia", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-25T00:00:00", "words": "2,444", "Additional Tags": "Sex Slavery, Aftermath of Torture, Conditioning, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Bonding, Panic Attacks, Slavery", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Charon/Lone Wanderer, Charon (Fallout)/Male Lone Wanderer", "Series": "Champagne, Cocaine, Gasoline", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	When the man walked past Charon, he’d expected to see a slaver following his wake.The collar was a dead giveaway, not to mention the painfully thin frame. Ahzrukhal did order him to keep an eye on everyone that came in, so he was bound to notice things like this. Especially when an owner didn’t breeze in behind him. Ahzrukhal noticed too. “Hey, smoothskin, where’s your master? I don’t hide your kind. Not for free at least.” “Ain’t got one.” The man smirks, his voice strong and proud. Most slaves had weak, broken voices from being ordered into silence. (Or from screaming.) Before Ahzrukhal could open his mouth to respond, the human had turned to look at Charon, giving the ghoul in question a good look at the broken control mechanism on his collar. There was something he couldn’t place in the man’s expression. “See something you like, pretty boy?” Ahzrukhal had to be the center of attention, as per usual. If it wasn’t about him, he’d get huffy and try to fix that. “I see you making eyes at Charon. He’s quite a catch, yeah?” The newcomer nods, not bothering to look back at Ahzrukhal. “Wanna see a trick?” Charon knows where this is going. “Charon, put our lovely guest on your shoulders.” He easily hoists the small man up. Things like this made him feel like a circus act. “Neat, huh?” Ahzrukhal has a nasty grin on his face, thinking he’s being impressive. “Does anything I tell him, he’s one hell of a loyal mutt.” His eyes light up for a moment, gesturing a bit. “You can even hit him if you want, Char’ let him sock you-” “Fuck you, I’m not hitting a man who can’t fight back!” The stranger tenses with every word out of Ahzrukhal’s mouth, his hands resting on Charon’s head. Ahzrukhal just shrugs, chuckling. “Aw, you’re no fun. Char’ you can put him down now.” As he did, Charon got the feeling that shit was about to go down. Ahzrukhal must have felt it too because he tuts before saying, “Don’t look at me like that, smoothskin. Don’t get any funny ideas either. He ain’t just for show, get outta line and he’ll shoot you before you reach the counter.” “Oh. I see.” Scratch feeling, Charon knows shit’s going down tonight. He can see it in the way the man fists his hands into the ridiculous flowy pants he’s wearing. When he strolls up to the counter, he’s staring Ahzrukhal down. “How much.” “Beer’s-” Ahzrukhal can’t reem off prices before the man bangs a fist on the bar, cutting him off. “I’m not asking about booze , you asshole, I want to know how much his-” The smoothskin struggles for a split second before spitting out “-contract is.” like it’s poison on his tongue. Ahzrukhal barks out a laugh. “You can’t fucking afford it, pretty boy!” “ Try me. ” he demands, voice hard, fingers tight on the counter. When Ahzrukhal realizes he’s being serious and gives a price, he balks when the human starts pulling out measured bags of caps and doubles it. This does nothing except make the process take a little longer. He finishes, and holds out his hand while the bartender sputters. Charon almost expects to be ordered to take out the smoothie so Ahzrukhal can steal the abundance of caps he’s carrying on him. Instead, he feels the mood shift as his contract changes hands. The human turns to face him, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Unfinished business?” He nods. “Have fun.” It’s not like he was going to ask for permission to gun down his former owner, but it felt much more satisfying with his endorsement. After the smoke quite literally clears from the room, Charon looks to his new boss. “Better, big guy?” He says with a lopsided grin. Again he nods. “Good, ‘cause I don’t plan on ordering you to do anything you don’t want. Name’s-” he pauses, making sure there’s no one within earshot. “Name’s Kevin Gray.” It’s one Charon recognizes. “Birchgrove?” “Damn it, word’s seriously gotten this far?” Charon shrugs, “J Starr’s been tracking a wayward comet of his, word gets around the Mall fast.” “He can track me all he damn well likes, I’m out and he’s never gonna catch me. I go by KG in public, though. Ready to head out?” The man says as he retrieves his caps from the counter. “Yes” Charon replies. This would be interesting. KG was without a doubt, the tiniest employer to ever hold his contract. Barely reaching 5’ on a good day. Admittedly, having a runaway slave at the helm was...honestly it was refreshing. The man seemed to pick up on his well hidden reactions faster than he could realize he’d done anything in the first place. It had been months that they’d been traveling together. Months of quiet understanding from a rowdy smoothskin. It was fucking with his “Don’t get attached to employers” rule. They traveled far and wide. It made sense. KG was on the run after all. They were more than used to each other. They spent many nights back to back, unable to find a safe place to crash. They shared meals, even when the supplies ran low, he insisted that Charon ate too. It was easy to get along with him. Charon was surprised, Normally he disliked flamboyant employers. But when it got down to brass tacks, KG knew what he was doing. He held his own in a fight, better than many of his former employers. He wasn’t good with a gun, but he know how to take anything that wasn’t nailed down and turn it into a weapon. So when the man asked to help him shave his hair, and dye it, he complied. His fingers were blue for a week. Seeing the man grinning and twirling made it better though. His nimble frame dancing circles through Underworld was an image that stuck with him. They’d gotten into a fight with a huge pack of ferals that day and were in desperate need of a bath. By the time they found a tiny bedsit with one, it was long into the night. The woman behind the counter glanced at them suspiciously. “We’ve only got enough water in the tank for one more bath.” she drawls, scarred eyebrow arching judgmentally. KG rolls his eyes, “That’s fine. Where’s the tub?” She hands the key to Charon. It was pretty normal for folks outside of Underworld to assume he was the one calling the shots. He took it, and didn’t bother masking his contempt for the woman. When the shack door clicked open, he was more than prepared to just wait outside. “It’s a big tub. We can share.” “Excuse me?” he questions, unable to hold his tongue. “We’re both walking health hazards, there’s enough room for us to share. But it’ll be unusable if we take turns. And -” KG continues before Charon can cut in. “No, you can’t just wait, you’ll be drawing deathclaws by morning. C’mon, lock the door behind you.” Charon had learned by now that he wasn’t meant to take such things as literal order as he had with past contract holders. When he had done this in the past, it made the man extremely uncomfortable. It was the obvious choice, though. So he went in, thumbing the lock shut behind himself. They maneuver around each other easily, Charon the only one to hesitate before disrobing. A question had been bothering him lately, and as he pulled at the straps of his armor, he felt it was time to ask it. “Boss, can I ask you something?” “You always can, Char’.” KG hummed as he drew the bath as hot as it would go, fingers testing the water. “Why’d you take my contract?” The reply is so matter of fact that he almost misses the meaning of it. “Because conditioning recognizes conditioning.” Charon’s face must give him away, because KG gives him a look before elaborating. “I was part of the sex trade. They have to ‘train’ you to do plenty of things. Like not ripping the dick off the first man that shoves it down your throat-” the man continues as he eases into the water. “The tone of voice to use if they want you to be vocal, how to take it up the ass, how to make people want to buy you for the night just by walking into the room...lots of things like that. If you don’t want to, or you do it wrong, well…” he trails off, turning to shut the tap off, giving a clear view of the countless scars scattered across his back. “You know how it is.” “Though-” KG adds on, “I’m sure yours was much worse than mine…” “That doesn’t invalidate your trauma, boss.” KG blinks up at him, struck by this, watching as Charon finally settles in the bath as well. “Most would say it does.” “Most folks don’t have context.” The moment is interrupted as the water overflows, splattering on the cold floorboards. Charon stares at the collar and thin necklace (his former owner had a habit of using these for symbolic purposes. They were easy to break so it showed how “well behaved” his slaves were.) strung about his neck. The ghoul’s hand twitches. “Might get better if we dealt with those collars.” It was like a mini-nuke went off. The human practically launched backwards, ass sliding over the rim of the tub, causing him to topple over and land with a wet slap. Charon immediately moves to assist, head throbbing from (inadvertently) causing pain of any sort. “No! No, nono, no!” KG shouts, clutching at his chest voice strained fearfully. His eyes had this wild panic in them, searching for an escape route. Seeing him afraid felt alien to the ghoul. “You said it was deactivated, it can’t blow up anymore?” He offers carefully, trying to help KG to his feet, only for the man to jerk away from him. “ Yes it’s deactivated, no I can’t take it off!” Charon reaches out, fingertips barely ghosting over the metal, “I can do it.” “Charon, don’t you dare touch it!” he shouts before freezing. KG never gave him orders. Nothing beyond directing him in battles. He’d made it clear that the concept sickened him. Judging by his face, it still did. “Ch-Charon, wait I’m sorry.” The human was shaking, his voice unsteady. Charon’s skin was crawling. The ghoul shakes his head. “I overstepped my boundaries.” he rattles off the old lines without stumbling. The words leave a rotten taste in his mouth. “My actions, while inexcusable will no-” Charon’s throat seizes when he dares to look at KG. Tears were welling up in those brown eyes. Fuck. He forces himself to keep going. “-will not happen again. If desired, acceptable punishm-” “C-Charon y-” “-ents include: Ordering silence, verbal reprimands, minor and/or indirect physical punishment, or-” the final part sticks to his tongue like broken glass. He can’t look at the smoothskin again. “Or choosing to break the contract. You-” There’s a hand on his arm but he has to finish the speech. “You can chose to sell it, trade it, auction it, or break it with extreme physical violence.” It feels like his bones are aching. Of all the ways he’d ended a contract, this would be the most idiotic. Damn it all, why did this have to happen? It was karma, he thinks. Of course he’d get fucked over when he actually got a good owner. Fuck. He didn’t want to leave this time. He wanted to keep KG safe. Shame and fear tore at him. He was stupid for being so forward with his actions. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “-on! CHARON!” Startles him out of his spiraling thoughts. He looks to KG. “Listen to me!” The ghoul nods slightly, bracing himself. “I’m not going to punish you.” The hands gripping Charon’s arm shake. “Your actions are not just excusable, they’re entirely understandable .” KG stresses, eyes flicking around, trying to read his bodyguard’s face. “You’re not the first one to offer me that...I’m sorry it’s just-” he swallows “...the most painful lessons stay with you the longest.” Charon suddenly understood it clearly now. Gods he was thick sometimes. KG had literally just said he’d been through a form of conditioning. His trainer must have had enough foresight to not trust the collars with no backup in place. It’s easier to find a runaway if they couldn’t take them off, even if they were broken. He’d triggered an ingrained reaction by not only suggesting removal, he went so far as to touch one of them. “It was still wrong of me.” he says firmly. “Punishment is well within your rights.” “You’re making it sound like you want to be punished.” Charon is still, jaw clenched tightly. “...do you want the contract broken?” “ No. ” he flinches, head throbbing before he adds, “I mean- my wants are irrelevant. It is up to the contract holder.” “The only reason you are still bound to say that to me is because I can’t work out how to free you from it.” The words hang heavy in the air. Charon remains quiet, watching as emotions flit over KG’s face. “One day, I will. One day, you will have the right to decide where you go and who you go with. Until then, remember this.” he pauses. “There is nothing you have done, or will do, to punish.” his voice is hard. “We’re both going to have these sorts of things happen. We’ll need to support each other to the best of our abilities. The whole world is against us here. I need you to believe me when I say that I vow to make this right. To free us both...okay?” “...okay.” “News time, children! Now, I know I mentioned that ol’ Three Dog here found a new pal. That little guy I’ve been all vague about- you know the one. That’s ‘cause he’s got some mean motherfuckers after him. So that means that if lil’ ol’ me wants to talk about him (and you know I do) I gotta set this cat up with a name to use. He’s been doing some seriously good shit to fight the good fight you all need to hear about. I had a short “chat” with his traveling buddy, who must also remain anonymous. He let me in on a couple of ideas. Sooo, let me go ahead and blow your minds with a story about The Vow, and how he plans on dismantling Paradise Falls.”
10716645	Sacrificial Instinct	{ "Archive Warning": null, "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Bellamy Blake, Clarke Griffin, Abby Griffin, Marcus Kane, Monty Green, Nathan Miller, David Miller, Raven Reyes, Gina Martin, Wells Jaha, John Murphy (The 100), Lincoln (The 100), Octavia Blake, Jackson (The 100), Dante Wallace, Cage Wallace", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by bellarking", "chapters": "10/12", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-24T00:00:00", "words": "40,255", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Minor Bellamy Blake/Gina Martin, Bellarke Endgame, A lot of murder, some light torture, emotional and physical, Slow Burn, Fluff, Eventual Romance, Alternate Universe - Historical, Murder Mystery, Endgame", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Minor or Background Relationship(s)", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan", "Archive Warnings": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death", "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	The king of Arkadia was shot in the head early in the morning on a Sunday.The assassination came thirty minutes after the public announcement of their newly contracted alliance with Lurrea. More commonly, the people of Arkadia preferred to refer to their neighbouring nation simply with the derogatory term, the Grounders.King Jacob was found by Queen Abigail as she made her way to the kitchens to set the menu for the feast that night. She had stopped by the library, and was confronted with a dried pool of her husband's blood.The security was increased within the hour. Most importantly, the security around the queen and her daughter, the princess Gwendoline Amelia — better known as Clarke to the people. Each were assigned their own security detail, which rotated throughout the day to ensure that each royal had 24-hour security.The day of Princess Clarke's ascension to Queen was hidden from the public, for the first time in the history of Arkadia's monarchy.It was also the day she named her Head of Security. Because she was now the sole heir to the throne, and thus the most vital accessory to the kingdom's survival, he had been assigned as her personal guard. His name was Bellamy Blake.Trained in all arts of defence and offence, Blake was the most skilled fighter in the kingdom. He had served under the king himself, when he had been alive, and had successfully halted many assassination attempts on the royal family. Some, they still weren't aware of.But the man was no bodyguard. He was no cadet. His title did not fit into the castle's hierarchy. An assassin, and a ruthless one. Often called upon to stealthily eliminate the King's problems. Yet, Blake had been a close friend of the King Jacob. For this reason, he swore at the feet of his new queen and in front of her court that he would protect her with his life. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The queen was in the midst of preparing herself to address the country. Her maid tended to her hair as she sat at her vanity, staring at herself as jewels were laid on her, pins were stuck in her, and powder applied.Clarke had been the leader of the kingdom for only three months, ruling with the aid of the Queen Mother and the keeper of her country's seal, Lord Kane. They were the only subjects in her court whom she trusted.She was escorted everywhere by her security detail, including the likes of seasoned soldiers, trained castle guards, and her late father's personal killer. Her security was switched up every few hours to keep only the most active guards in her presence, but she came to notice that the assassin was always by her side. Especially during highly risky public events, like the one she was to encounter soon."All done, Your Majesty," her maid said from behind her. Clarke examined the look in the mirror, turning her head to either side for a full scope of her appearance.Her long hair was pulled back, with only strands framing her face. The curls bounced with every movement. A braided chignon held her hair back, loose and comfortable; still elegant."Thank you," the queen dismissed her with a soft nod of the head. Standing, Clarke moved to the large bed in the centre of her dressing chambers. On the soft duvet lay a glimmering gown that took up the entire space. The castle was still mourning, so her mother had ordered for her to be fitted in a dark-coloured dress, if not black. It was an elegant dress, the darkest of greens, with a trumpet skirt of velvet. Jewels embellished its front and the hem, weighing down the fabric.The queen removed her shift and allowed her handmaiden to wrap a corset around her naked torso. Clarke held on to the bedpost as the girl pulled at the contraption's strings and tightened it until she could just barely breathe. She thanked the gods that she had already eaten, because there was no way she could consume anything with it on.With the help of two maids, Clarke slipped into the dress, revelling how the heavy gems shined with her every movement. One of the servants began pining the cloth together, preparing the seams in order to sew the young queen into the gown. As it was being done, the queen held on to one of the maid's hands as she slipped into matching velvet heels.A tall crown made of diamond and platinum was placed on her golden hair. It was an appropriate accessory for the occasion; today marked the day of Clarke's official public debut as Queen of Arkadia.When she was fully dressed, she nodded to her handmaiden, Gina, who opened the doors to the rest of the castle. Standing on the opposite side of the doors was her primary guard, waiting patiently for her. He held his arm out to her, preparing to lead her to the throne room."Blake," she curtly acknowledged."Your Majesty," he replied, his voice stony and cold. She took his elbow in her hand and allowed him to steer her in the right direction.Queen Clarke was not an easy charge.Following the assassination of her father, the young royal was quickly agitated, always cautious, and never silent. Blake had come to know her during all his meetings with her father, when he and the king would fall silent as soon as his young daughter stepped into their conferences. She'd have her words with her father, shoot Blake a wary glance, and leave. Before the king's demise, he had never spoken to her. Always stationed by the late Jake Griffin's side, he had come to see the stubborn, lively, fiery woman who was his queen.At the entrance to the throne room, a hesitance in Clarke's steps forced Blake to halt his advance. The doormen looked to one another, unsure if they were supposed to open the grand doors or not.Blake turned to the young woman beside him, silent. Her eyes were closed, her face wishful. Her breathing was calm, but her fingers were not. They drummed against his elbow."Your Majesty…" he began."Wait," she commanded, and he did.Clarke took a long breath, muttered a soft prayer, and her eyes opened."Proceed," she allowed, and the bodyguard returned to escorting her into the throne room. The crier announced her presence.The Queen Mother was already waiting, stationed on the second throne. As she saw her daughter enter, Abby, along with the rest of the court, were brought to their feet. They stood, only moving to bow to their queen as she passed them. Clarke only looked straight ahead, her eyes on her mother. The women acknowledged one another with a simple head bow. Blake lead Clarke to her throne, allowed her to sit, and then took his place beside her. He stood to the side, and slightly behind, the royal chair, staring down the court with a threatening hand over his gun.Clarke faced Lord Kane and signalled for him to allow the first member of the court forward.In her three months of leadership, Clarke had been set on a strict schedule. Once a month her subjects were allowed to come to the palace, addressing her directly for her aid in their situations. They began privately first, with her councilmen. This was her third time doing it, and she had still not managed to get the hang of it.Her first subject bowed before her, explaining his wish to depart from court, because. Another stepped forward asking her for permission to marry and spend a few days off court responsibility. Subject after subject approached her with questions, problems, suggestions.By the end of three hours she was spent, and glad that there was only one subject left; her parents' closest friends and subjects. The Duke Thelonious stood before her, his son in tow. Both father and son began with a deep bow, and then their proposition. "Your Majesty," Thelonious's son addressed her, "I am Earl Wells of Jaha. I come to you today to ask your hand in marriage."The court stopped. Heads turned to face Clarke, and hers turned to face her mother. The Queen Mother's eyes were wide, unsure of what to say. Seeing this reaction on her mother, Clarke turned back to the Duke and his son, and lightly smiled."Thank you, Your Grace, for the generous proposal." Clarke said to the pair. "My mother and I will discuss later it in further detail."After the two bowed and departed, it was time for the royal family to be presented to the public. It was everything Clarke was dreading. The court slowly cleared out, leaving Clarke and Abby to themselves."Are you ready, Gwendoline?" Abby asked as she turned to her daughter. She reached out for her daughter's hand, and Clarke took it.Abby stroked the girl's fingers in an effort to calm her down. It was evident from her face that she was near terrified. "I think I am, Mom."Hearing this, Gina approached and helped her down the stairs. Blake was close behind, and extended his arm to her once more. Behind them, Abby was getting the same treatment with her maid Fox, and bodyguard Lincoln."I'll see you there, Gwendoline," Abby called. "And straighten your posture!"Clarke scoffed as she followed the order of the Queen Mother.Neither queen found it necessary to change, so both made their way to the high balcony of the castle. However, due to new security regulations, they were made to take different routes through the castle.Blake turned to meet the gaze of the rest of Clarke's entourage, checking attendance. On either side of the two were Sirs Miller and Miller; father and son. Behind each were two others, the knight Sir Pike, and trainee Collins. Behind them, the final two, Bryan, and the only female guard the kingdom had ever seen, Reyes.The sound of the cheering crowd grew louder as the group neared the end of the hallway. Blake felt his queen's fingers dig into his arm as they walked, getting tighter with every footfall.Gina was waiting by the time they reached the entrance of the balcony.The group paused in their advancement for Clarke's handmaiden to place a heavy cloak on her queen's shoulders, and fasten it in place by her throat. The young royal nodded in solemn thanks, and the group resumed. The doors were opened, and the roar became deafening.The citizens of Arkadia had gathered at the front of the palace, dressed in their finest clothes. They all seemed eager to meet their new sovereign. Some had arrived at dawn that morning, as evident by the piles of rubbish that littered the royal garden.The entourage paused at the door. The master of ceremony looked to them, bowed to the queen, and returned to silence the crowd. They only did so in anticipation. Then, in the loudest voice possible, he announced to the crowd: "Her Majesty Gwendoline Amelia the second, Queen of Arkadia and of Her other Realms and Territories."The crowd roared again, seemingly louder than before. It signalled her cue; Clarke stepped onto the balcony, letting go of Blake's arm to face her people. The young bodyguard watched as her facial features relaxed to put on a confident mask. The fear seemed to melt away from her face as she gave a brightening smile and waved gently. Abby stood beside her, her hand on her daughter's back in support. She was shaking, and it had nothing to do with the cold.The guards joined the royal family on the balcony, keeping a sharp look on the public. Each firmly held rifles, but kept them close to their legs to hide them from the public. Every waving flag, every article of tossed clothing, every shout; everything was perceived as a hazard.Clarke herself was wary, trying to make sure her face didn't show that she was skeptical of every single one of her people. The only thing she could think of was how her father's killer could very well be staring at her at that very moment. It set her on edge, and she began to feel more breathless with every passing second.She turned her head to her mother, covering her mouth and saying, "I want to go back, Mom." She had to repeat it once more, but once Abby understood, she shook her head. "Only a few more minutes, my dear. Just keep waving. You're doing great." With no further discussion, Abby turned back and continued waving to the crowd.In the crowd, the citizens were beginning to push past each other to get closer. Many couldn't see from so far away, and were eager to get a glimpse. There was a lot of pushing, and in the area surrounding the garden's largest fountain, the shouts gradually became aggressive, rather than gleeful.The shooter took this chance to raise a gun to the royal balcony, knowing that no one would notice even if he did make the shot. It was too loud for anyone to really hear anything. The guards couldn't see anything; he was too small to them for anyone to realise what he was holding.Clarke and Abby were still waving to the crowd, smiles plastered on their faces. Blake watched the both of them from the side of his eye as he adjusted the weapon in his hand. He would think of this moment later, and he would regret looking away from the crowd, even for that one second."GUN!" He heard Reyes yell. She took aim.Reacting as fast as he knew how, Blake turned to the queen, wrapping one hand around her waist, and one behind her head to protect it as he pushed her down, away from the view of the public. They reached the ground with a hard thud, causing Clarke to cry out as the sharp pain ran through her spine. Blake looked over her; the queen was safe. The crown that had rest on her head only a moment prior began on circling on itself mere centimetres from her face.There were loud gunshots that rang through the gardens. The hand that had been on her waist snapped upwards, until Blake's entire body had barriered itself in between the balcony's wall and his charge."Don't move," Blake ordered her, and it was the most informal thing he had ever said to her. She noticed, but she didn't say anything. She was slightly dazed, and extremely dizzy, by their landing. Her head had slammed against her guard's hand, which had hit the concrete hard. The shock was still resonating through her skull.Blake didn't let go of her, only peeking over the edge of the balcony to check on the shooter. He couldn't see much, other than the clearing people. "Miller!" He called, and the younger one crouched down to their level, holding a shield of metal up. This allowed Clarke to stand, and Miller escorted her back into the castle. She saw her mother out of harm's way, after Lincoln had moved just as quickly as Blake had.Back on the balcony, Blake had picked his gun back up and aimed it at the crowd. Through its eyepiece, he tried to spy the shooter. He heard the doors shut behind him, but paid it no heed. Reyes, Collins, and Bryan were all stationed beside him."There!" Bryan yelled, and pointed to the telltale gleam of the weapon. The other three guards all followed his signal, and found the criminal. On the ground, he turned and ran. He was strategic, and was zipping in between the other citizens."Wait," Blake commanded. "Don't shoot unless you're absolutely sure you won't hit a civilian."All the guns on the balcony followed the man, but soon he had disappeared into the masses."Fuck!" Reyes yelled. The queen was in her mother's chambers when the news came.It was Gina, who only entered when she heard the permission. "Ma'am," she started, like she didn't know how to present the information. "I'm afraid I have some bad news." She found the queen on the bed beside her mother, gripping one another's hands. Tear streaks were evident through the royal's makeup, her hair falling out of its chignon. Both watched Gina as she struggled with the news. "Go ahead, dear," Abby prompted as the handmaiden fell silent."Yes, Ma'am. Sir Miller the senior was shot and killed tonight, Ma'am.""Oh," Abby muttered. It was heartbreaking news. She had known David Miller since she had joined the royal family. He had always been loyal and kind. "Does his son know?""Yes, Ma'am," Gina said, "He is with him in the medical ward right now.""Thank you, Gina." Clarke spoke for the first time, "Let Sir Miller the junior know that we send our condolences. We will leave him to mourn tonight, and pay our respects tomorrow.""Very good, Your Majesty.""Is there anything else, Gina?""No, Ma'am.""Very well. You may leave."Gina curtsied, and backed out of the room.Clarke turned back to her mother. She took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm herself from the incident still fresh in her mind.Both royal ladies had been checked by the palace doctor. Clarke was cleared of a concussion, but her arms had been badly scratched by the balcony floor. Abby had a bad bruise on her thigh, but other than that, was fine. Neither had had time to change since, and Clarke felt the corset dig into her ribs."My love," the Queen Mother started, "I think you should get some rest. You'll have a lot to do tomorrow."Clarke nodded, standing to make her departure. Reyes was waiting outside for her, and escorted her back to her chambers. She held her gun out for the entirety of the three minute walk.The sovereign was holding her heels in her hand, walking across the palace's lush carpet barefoot. Without the extra height, the beautiful dress pooled against her ankles. Pins were falling out of her hair, and her crown was inappropriately dangling from around her arm.Two new guards were stationed outside her bedroom, saluting as she neared. One opened the chambers' doors, allowing the queen to step through. Reyes bowed to Clarke, and then left. Her shift had been over hours ago.Gina and two other maids were waiting inside, ready to get her prepared for bed. She passed the crown to one of them, and they rushed to return it to its rightful place. Gina was allowed to turn the queen around and begin the lengthy process of undoing the stitches of the dress to set her free. After a couple of minutes, Clarke was beginning to get too restless."Just cut it," she snapped, but then realised herself. "Please. Just cut me out of this thing.""Yes, Your Majesty. Give me a moment." The redhead sprinted to find a knife, and quickly returned. The soft velvet fabric fell to the ground in a heap around Clarke's ankles."Get this damned corset off," she breathed, clutching at it in an attempt to rip it off. The hot tears were beginning to fall down her cheeks, her voice gasping. Gina's nimble fingers unlaced the bodice and slipped it off the queen. For the first time all day, Clarke felt like she was able to breathe. She sat at the bed, trying to stop herself from taking too-deep breaths.Just as she was beginning to pull on a shift, there was a loud knock at the door."Sir Bellamy Blake to see the Queen.""One moment!" Gina called, and both women stumbled to make Clarke decent. She wore her shift and her robe before she allowed the doors to open. Clarke dismissed the other servants, letting them go to bed.Blake remained in his deep bow until all three of the ladies were out of the room."Have a seat, Blake." Clarke gestured to the seat of her study, and she sat at her vanity. She began removing the pins in her hair delicately as she waited for the guard to begin speaking."My Queen," he nodded, and took his seat after her. "Have you been informed of Sir Miller?""Yes, I have. It's quite tragic, and I'm quite remorseful, if I may be honest."Blake tried to ignore the queen's tear-streaked face, the residual tears still dripping from her neck onto her shift. "It is quite so, Your Majesty.""Tell me; what brings you here tonight?" She didn't look at him, even as all her pins were out. She put her fingers in her hair and combed it out coarsely in a bare attempt to shield her face from him. It was inappropriate for the guard to see her in such a wound-up state. "I came to check up on you.""Oh?""Yes, My Queen." He eyed the thin scratches on her exposed arms. "Well, I'm quite alright, Blake, thanks to you.""Good to hear, Ma'am.""Tell me," Clarke spoke, her voice lowered. "What happened with the shooter?"Blake was silent for a long while, unsure of how to tell his sovereign that he had failed at his job."Well?" the queen pressed."He managed to slip away."Clarke whipped around to face him. Her nails dug into her palms as she stared at him. "Come again?" Her cold blue eyes bore into his, full of rage."We couldn't catch him.""And where is he now?""I don't know, Majesty."Clarke tried to suppress her sigh, but found herself both too angry and too worried to do so."Do we know who he was trying to target?"Much to his credit, Blake seemed uncomfortable with the question. Despite the small differences the two had had with one another during their three-month official work time, he seemed regretful with both the situation at hand and the intended victim of the day's assault. "The Queen Mother, Your Majesty. The trajectory was calculated soon after the attack."Unable to sit still with her unease, Clarke stood and began to pace in the space between her bed and her vanity. As soon as she stood, Blake shot to his feet."My Queen —""Quiet." She snapped, and he did. "Find me this shooter. I will take no excuses. This man tried to kill my mother. He may be the same person who murdered my father. He will see no mercy. Not from me."Blake only bowed his head in agreement."Will there be anything else?"He shook his head."Alright, you're dismissed."The assassin turned to leave. He was at the door, about to reach the door handle when he heard her speak again."Blake," she spoke with a sigh, and he turned. "Thank you. For keeping me alive."He turned to her fully and gave her another deep bow. "It is my duty, Your Majesty." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Blake doesn't sleep all night. The words of his queen echo through his mind every time he tries to. He flings the covers off his cot, and heads over to his weapons collection. He takes apart, cleans, and puts together all of his guns. He sharpens all his knives. He checks for rusting on his sword. He’s only spent two hours by the end of it. “Find me this shooter. I will take no excuses.” He packs his weapons, and leaves silently through the window. The intruder would have been seen by the castle guards had it been for two conditions: they were following their security schedule, and they weren't asleep while doing it. Fortunately for the intruder, the castle's security level hadn't really been worked on as much as it should have since the assassination of King Jacob.So the intruder roamed the castle's free halls, taking time to examine each painting of the royal families throughout the ages. The faces of each royal was eye-catching, beautiful, and graceful, but most of all the current queen.The painting that the intruder stopped in front of was newly painted. It had been only a few months, when the king had still been alive. The eyes of Queen Gwendoline were breathtakingly blue, and the intruder stared through them for a long time, before venturing into the garden.Whoever it was clearly knew their way around the castle, because soon, he had a view of the queen's bedroom window. The balcony outside had its own two guards, awake and sharp — but the intruder remained unseen from behind the tall bushes. Eyes followed the monarch as she was awoken by her handmaiden, and escorted into the bathhouse to begin preparing for the day.A dangerous smile was settled on the intruder's face.Clarke slipped into her drawn bath, trying to let her mind roam as her maids began to scrub at her skin.The sun had not yet risen, and the queen was a few minutes away from drifting to sleep in her tub. She was preparing to make her first appearance in court after the shooting and murder of Sir Miller. It had been three days, and the castle was finally preparing to bury the deceased knight.Gina was at Clarke's side, scrubbing under her nails with a brittle brush. She was making light conversation with the queen as the other servants worked on shampooing the queen's hair, massaging her skin, and shaving her limbs.Gina Martin had always been Clarke's closest confidant, especially throughout their childhood. Gina was born in the castle, as daughter of Abby's lady's maid. She had grown alongside Clarke, and when the castle authorities had deemed her a legal adult, she had been given a job in the kitchens. When the head cook had complained about her absolute uselessness in the kitchen, a thirteen-year-old Princess Clarke had suggested a career as a handmaiden. The two had never been apart in the ten years since.Now, the friends were conversing about Clarke's potential husband in the Duke's son, but it was clear that the young queen wanted to stray as far away from the topic as possible."So, Gina." She started, opening her eyes to cheekily look at her close friend, "Have you made any new acquaintances recently?"The young woman's cheeks reddened, and she bowed her head to restrict Clarke from seeing. The effort was futile; she said, "Not really, My Queen," and blushed harder.Clarke pulled her fingers away from Gina's grasp, teasing her. "You have to tell me now. I'm too interested."The large smile on Gina's face was a telltale sign, even as she said the words, "I have no idea what you're talking about."The other maids seemed to be listening intently to the conversation. Clarke noticed and lowered her voice, so only her friend could hear, "It's someone from the royal guard, I bet." When Gina remained silent, Clarke had her answer. "Is it Collins?"The handmaiden shook her head, reaching to grasp her charge's fingers again. She began applying nail polish as the monarch listed any names she could remember from her and her mother's guards."Lincoln? Miller? Bryan?"Gina tried to hide her grin, but she couldn't, and allowed herself to fall into the game. "No.""Murphy? Emerson? Am I close?""No.""Is it Reyes?"Gina giggled. "No."Because she was held at such a high status in the country, Clarke hadn't been allowed to date until she was seventeen. In the six years since, she still hadn't taken any lovers — men were often too intimidated by her status. She had always found herself lonely and deprived because of it, and usually found herself leeching off of Gina's love life.Clarke threw her one free hand into the air, exasperated. "I don't remember any more names!""There's Blake, Your Majesty.""Oh! Of course." Clarke did a double take, but then her grin grew as she saw her friend's face. "I had no idea you were into assholes, Gina."At the rare instance of the queen's foul language, Gina's mouth fell open. A laugh fell out, and she playfully slapped at the tub's rim. "Is that any way for the Queen of Arkadia to speak?"When the two girls had settled down in their laughter, Clarke pushed. "Have you two even been properly introduced?"The nail polish was drying, and Clarke regained her hand to fan the air. Gina closed the polish bottle, getting up to prepare a towel. "Not really, no.""Well then," the royal replied. "We must see to that soon — Help me up?"The queen was dressed in an elegant gown of chiffon, black and beaded to symbolise both the castle's mourning and pride for Sir Miller. Sheer sleeves tickled her arms, but hid her newly healing scratches. Her shoulders were left exposed to the air of the day. She wore no crown to represent her mourning state.That morning, her security detail consisted of Emerson, Atom, Collins, Connor, and at their head, Blake. A side glance to Gina told Clarke that their prior conversation had been true; she had developed quite the crush.Blake didn't notice. He held his arm out to the queen, stoic as ever. A face of stone refused to portray any emotion. Ever since Clarke's first brush with assassination, he had ordered an increase of public security. He had been overlooking every detail; most of meetings took place at night, and he wasn't getting much sleep. He spent every hour of the day at the queen's side, and every hour of the night with the personnel. He had been training personally-chosen guards, instructing the royal engineers Sinclair and Wick, and orchestrating missions for the royal spies.The work showed on his face, with his dark circles. Clarke noticed, but knew not to ask.The queen had always been more observative than anyone had ever given her credit for. The misunderstanding was her own fault; as a child she had never given anyone the ability to truly comprehend her intellect. She found it beneficial to keep her smarts to herself. It usually lead to her subjects revealing things before her, while she maintained a pretence of ignorance.Today she noticed Blake's faltered steps. The slight haywire nature of his usually well-combed hair. The sickly feature to his face. She passed him an inquisitive look, and he responded in silence. Without an answer to her unspoken question, she simply took his elbow. The thin material of his white tunic allowed for her to feel the toned muscle of his arm. She had seen his arms bare in the past, when he had been training new soldiers the day after her father had died. She had barged into the guards' gym in an attempt to find him. She had seen his scarred flesh, with marred tissue trailing his tan arms through to the back of his shirt. This also could be felt on the arm she held, from under his shirt. "Lead the way, Blake.""Of course, My Queen."Sir Miller the senior was buried in the Knights' Yard, with the rest of those who gave their life for the monarchy.The remaining Miller was allowed time off-service for the remainder of the month. He looked grateful as Clarke told him, with red-rimmed eyes and dark circles. His family had been granted a temporary leave for bereavement, and had only returned to the castle to take their places as the coffin's pallbearers, along with David Miller's old knight acquaintances. All of their faces were grim, all of their clothes black. The castle's minister performed the service. Both queens sat in the front, paying their highest respects to the fallen soldier. Lincoln and Blake stood, alert, on either side of the benches beside their charges. After the ceremony, all was as nothing happened.She had Blake lead her to the court, where she was aware she had an awaiting audience. She took his arm again, and he lead the way.Only the closest of Clarke's subjects was aware of this tactic: the queen was always required to venture the castle grounds with an escort — usually Blake — in order to obstruct the knife she carried within her skirt. The act also allowed any of her bodyguards to move a deal quicker in the incident of an attack, wielding the ability to hastily push her to the nearest hidden passageway if need be. Clarke hated it."Her Majesty Gwendoline Amelia the second, Queen of Arkadia and of Her other Realms and Territories," she was announced.When she entered her court, she was met with the expecting eyes of her country's noblemen. The families Green, Kane, Jordan, McIntyre, and Monroe lined the court's walls, seated in their respective houses.At the very front stood the Jaha family, bowing at the empty throne. They did not look up until Clarke had sat.Today was the day she was expected to answer the Jaha proposal.Both Clarke and Abby had found it inappropriate to conduct such a meeting on the same day of their knight's funeral, but Kane had insisted that they couldn't possibly keep the duke waiting for more than the three days they had already made them.The entirety of the board of royal advisors had been talking of nothing more than the queen's engagement since the day her father had died. Clarke had received many proposals since, and they had all been turned down for a lack of benefit.However, Clarke had been surprised that morning when Kane had visited her that morning, with the well-thought decision for her to accept Wells of Jaha's hand in marriage. She had been thinking of the decision since, and as she sat in front of the young man, she finally chose her path.In the opposite side of the castle, the intruder was still lurking.He found that he quite enjoyed the freedom and peace of walking through the empty halls. It was the most silent environment he had been in all week. He had been up all night, fully getting to know the place. He had toured the Arkadia palace through the hours, and had finally found the room he had been looking for.He entered the room after easily picking the lock. And then, all there was left to do was wait.When Clarke got back to the master chambers, she quickly dismissed all the maids waiting to help her out of her gown. They were confused at first, but with a sharp look from Gina, they scuttled out in single file. Gina herself left close behind, unsure of how else to comfort the queen.As she watched the door finally shut, she allowed herself to fall apart.She flung herself onto her newly made bed, grasping the closest pillow to her face. Her makeup stained the silk cream sheets as she began to sob.Shortly after accepting Earl of Jaha's proposal, she could only think of her father. The king had always talked about the day he would have to walk his daughter down the aisle, and how he had dreaded the day it would happen. Now, with him gone, Clarke would dread having to walk down the aisle without him, regardless of how diplomatic her marriage would be. Everyone in court was well aware that the marriage would only be taking place due to the mutual benefit of the union.Outside, Collins stood guard with Murphy. Gina was on standby close by. None of them would say a word about it later, but they could all hear their reigning monarch's sobs through the door.Blake had retired for the few hours that the queen was expected to remain in her bedroom. As he closed the heavy door behind him, he sighed. He took his shirt off in one fluid movement, letting it fall to the floor.Contrary to everyone else at court, Blake had always been able to identify his monarch's observations. With the sharp eye of an assassin, he always noticed Clarke's darting eyes, soaking in information with every passing breath. He had been acquainted with her since she was a child and he was a teen; his opinion on her intellect had never changed in the years since.The only issue he had with her skill was her potential to see through him. While he had never let her past his thick emotional exterior, he had no doubt in his mind that she definitely had the ability to. He was also sure she had noticed the bandages that he had wrapped around his arms the night prior. As she had clutched his arm that morning, he knew she felt it.He saw her eyes dart towards him with a question embedded within them. He knew what she was asking; he ignored it. He wasn't going to inform her that he had spent the night scaling city walls, tending to the search for the attempted assassin. He wasn't going to let her know that he had found a conspiracy group near the closest border to Lurrea, and how they oft conversed of the new queen's inability to rule the kingdom. He wasn't going to make her aware of the fist-turned-knife fight he had engaged in with a that group, and how he had taken more blows that fight than he had all year, and stumbled back to the castle trying not to leave a blood trail behind him, and how he had barely ended to his wounds before he was expected to escort her to the Miller funeral that morning. So he ignored her. This was the first chance at rest he had gotten since two nights prior. He let himself fall to his small wooden bed, and before he knew it, had drifted off to sleep.Just as he was barely awake, the intruder made his move.When Gina returned to the queen's room, she found Clarke waiting at the vanity.She was due for another public appearance; a car ride throughout the kingdom beside Wells. An engagement announcement for the people.But Clarke was far from celebrating. Her makeup was smudge down her cheeks, and her hair was a knotted mess. She looked up at Gina with red-rimmed eyes."Oh, honey." Gina dropped the new dress on the queen's bed, moving to wrap her arms around her. The young royal started sobbing again, into the crevice of Gina's arm. They remained like so for many long minutes, until Clarke had stopped shaking."Are you okay now?""I don't know — I may never be.""My Queen," Gina reverted to calling Clarke by her royal title. "Why did you agree to marrying this earl?"Clarke sniffed, shaking her head. "It's a good political move," she whispered."Are you sure you want to do this?"Without another word, Clarke left Gina's arms to wipe away her tears. The streaks of black were swiped away into her hairline. She shook her head at the proposed question. "I made my choice. We need to get me ready."The handmaiden straightened. "Yes, My Queen." The other servants were called into the chamber, and they set to work immediately.By the end of the hour, the queen had been stripped of her funeral clothes, wiped of her makeup, and dressed in new attire. Clarke sat at the vanity emotionlessly, watching as her maids layered her makeup on her. Pale foundation, light powder, and dark red lipstick. The shade had been mixed to perfectly match the colour of her dress.She slipped into her corset, soundlessly bearing through the pain of having it tightened. She had been trying to avoid making eye contact with the dress, that had been so delicately laid on her bed, but it was time to put it on.A dark red at the top and bottom hems. An over-the-shoulder halter neckline, gliding gently into tight sleeves she could barely move in. Embroidery that scratched her skin, but she was expected to ignore. A full skirt of orange and red, encapsulating the image of flame. Red gem earrings, and a diamond engagement ring delivered by the Jahas.She met Wells at the bottom of the hall's staircase. He was waiting expectantly with an elbow ready for her to grasp. She glided effortlessly towards it, and he lead her to the waiting car outside.Her bodyguards followed them closely, with two of them in the same car as the couple. Clarke looked behind her, fitting names to faces.She turned to Gina beside her. "Where's Blake?"The intruder watched through a window as Clarke's eyes darted around the courtyard. He smiled and looked down at his bloody hands. Unbeknownst to the royals below, he waved through the window as the kingdom's monarch drove away from the front of the castle doors without their head of security. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- As the royal vehicle accelerated through the castle's boundaries, Clarke's heart began to pound. Thinking about the welfare and safety of her kingdom, she stared at her people as she drove past them, wondering if any of them could possibly be planning her assassination.Every face she passed was a suspicious one; every innocent bystander guilty. Beside her, Wells remained clueless to her unease. Little did he know that the woman he was betrothed to was wondering if her corset was thick enough to deflect a bullet.It was only her second public appearance since the death of her father, and the young queen was surprised to know that she found herself largely uncomfortable without the reassuring presence of the royal assassin. In her short months as the reigning monarch, she had become much too accustomed to him, despite her belief that her position did not allow her to be entitled to such dependency.But it had been thirty minutes into the tour, and the only thought on Clarke's mind was Blake's absence from by her side.Despite her paranoia, the Queen did her duty of maintaining her celebratory aura, often waving to Arkadia's citizens to efficiently seal the facade. The public cheered her presence and news with red roses, thrown into the car at any given chance. Despite the civilians' welcoming embrace, Clarke found herself flinching every time a villager came too close, or shaking with fear every time she heard an abnormal sound — which might as well have been barrels rolling away in the distance.By the end of the three-hour tour, she was clutching the weapon concealed within her dress, until her fingers had grown as pale as her hair. Her heart still pounded against her ribcage mercilessly, even as she was driven into the safety of the garage. Without speaking a word to the man she was promised to, she climbed out of the vehicle and stomped into the castle.Blake was nowhere to be seen, even after an extensive search of the palace. When the news was brought to Clarke, she had just sat down at her vanity, and hadn't found the time to remove her jewels yet. She had had an exhausting conversation with her advisors, and she was in no mood for another problem. She decided to find him herself."Bring me a robe," she ordered. One was placed over her bare shoulders, and she slipped her arms into the sleeves. As she stood, the hem of the garment failed to reach the marble floors, due to the queen's thick skirts. The dress she wore beneath trailed behind her, floating off the ground as she marched off into the guards' quarters, entourage in tow.As a young princess, she and her governess would spend many hours together. Whenever her parents weren't aware, the two would often sneak into the high servants' quarters, to sneak Clarke some sweets. They made it a weekly affair for many years before the governess passed of sickness. As a result, Clarke was very familiar with the quarters, even as an adult. She wasted no time in finding the the door labeled Blake."Did anyone think to check his quarters?" Clarke called as she raised a clenched fist to the door."Yes, Ma'am. We knocked, but there was no answer."Clarke glared at the man who had answered her, deeming the efforts not large enough. Her knock was heard down the hallway, sharp and distinct."Blake!" she yelled into the wood. There was no answer to either tactic."Do we have a key for this room?""No, Majesty. Your father ordered Blake be left to his own devices, and had all copies of his room key melted down for coins."Clarke pondered the logic of such an action. "I understand. Find me a guard who can bypass the lock.""My Queen, he's a superior officer—""And as the ultimate superior and ruler of this nation, you will do as I ask."Clutching his hat to his chest, the soldier braced himself to pick the lock, well aware of the consequences he might have to bear if Blake ever found out. As the key dropped, Clarke stepped forward and thrust open the door. The wood made a loud thwack as it was thrown inwards, splintered by the blunt force."Dismissed." A curt command from a curt ruler. The group watched him leave, and then replaced their attention to the inside of Blake's chambers. There was a thin trail of red that ran through the room, leading to a final red pool by the side of the bodyguard's bed.Her heart leaping in her chest, Clarke's head barely tilted towards her security team behind her."Reyes, search the room.""Ma'am."If Clarke had been expecting a large range of weaponry to parallel Blake's profession, she was sorely disappointed. The walls were as bare as his expression, with no decor to indicate life. A simple bed, chest, and furniture hid in the far corner, and that was all the eye could see. The bedding was a mess, swallowing the body Clarke could only assume was Blake's."Clear," Reyes called to her, and Clarke took her first step into the chamber. She stormed up to the bed, and she had her first look at the royal guard's face. The colour was drained from his face.The queen crouched beside the bedside and pressed two fingers to Blake's neck, searching for a pulse. It was weak, thrumming gently against her cold fingers."Collins, fetch me the medic!" She called behind her, "Reyes, by my side." "Ma'am," they called. Reyes, Blake's right-hand, saluted curtly as she arrived by the queen. She made the ultimate effort to ignore the fact that her monarch was seated on the floor. "Ma'am," she said again, ankles clicking together. Clarke looked up to the guard, "What happened to him?" Reyes cast a cursory glance towards her supervisor and friend, and didn't recognise his new wounds. "I am not aware, Majesty." Clarke nodded, turning back to Blake, finally removing her hand from his pulse point as she stood. "Keep me updated, and send me a messenger when he wakes up." "Highness," Reyes saluted as the queen exited the room, understanding her duty. She said nothing as the queen's robe dragged her leader's blood into the hall. She was called back to the medical bay hours later. Collins delivered the message with a deep bow, and a moment later, an elbow to escort her. Clarke laid first eyes at Blake and immediately noticed his regain of colour. A stiff chair was placed by his bedside, on which his fellow bodyguard and knight Sir Lincoln was seated. He stood immediately as he saw her enter. "Your Majesty." "The Queen Mother insisted I visit him, Ma'am," he explained when she came in, understanding her inquisitive look. Clarke only nodded, and passed him a graceful smile. "How is he?" "Better, Majesty. He was said to lose a lot of blood, but he can handle it." Clarke nodded, "Has he awoken yet?" "He did, Ma'am, he will be alright," Lincoln assured. "He's resting now." "Thank you. Would you excuse us, Sir Lincoln?" Lincoln bowed again, and exited the room promptly. A dark-haired woman was waiting for him behind the door, who Clarke did not recognise. Clarke watched the woman leave with the officer as she sat down beside the bed. "Blake." Clarke said, placing a timid hand on the guard's shoulder with the hopes of waking him up. When he opened his eyes, he could only see her, and the heavy jewels swinging close to his face. Her red lips held his attention, until he forced himself to look away from them. He examined her face, like he was unable to place it.When suddenly he realised that the woman kneeling in front of him was his queen, he tried to stand without heed for his injuries. A curse fell off the tip of his tongue before he could stop it as his the wounds got the better of him. "At ease," Clarke allowed, but her voice was not kind. Blake let his salute fall. "I'm sure you're aware of the reason behind my visit, Blake, so let's just get to the point, yes?"As his ruler began to address him, he tread his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it."My Queen." He nodded in her direction."You were scheduled to escort the royal tour this afternoon. Why weren't you there?""I lost track of time, Majesty.""Did you?" There was silence as Clarke looked over his tired expression. "Because I was under the impression that you were bleeding yourself dry. Spending your night doing work you can easily delegate." Reyes had come back to her with a full report, along with the purpose behind the night's trip. "Yes, as I said—""No." Her interruption was harsh. "You can't lose track if you were never paying attention in the first place. When was the last time you had a real full-night's rest, Blake?""I don't recall." He said this, despite fully knowing the true answer stood at about three months.She came to a stop in front of him, arms crossed, jewels swinging at the harsh movement. "My point. Do you remember the vow you made to me on the day of my coronation?"Blake bowed his head to his queen, remembering the day with ease. The halls had been dimly lit in remembrance of the king, but she had still managed to shine through it. He recalled being the first of the guard to kneel in her presence and honour her royal title. The words came back with ease. "My Queen, I swear to you upon my very life, and the iron that I wield, to give you my fealty, and to pledge you my loyalty, to the name of the royal throne. And if ever I shall raise against you in rebellion, I ask that this iron pierce my heart. For this night and all the nights to come, now my service begins. Long live the Queen." Clarke nodded once, "Just checking that you haven't forgotten. And to disobey the direct order to maintain your health, would be rebellious..."She allowed the sentence to trail, looking him meaningly in the eye. He knew she would never have him executed, but she was still very capable of destroying his life and career."Highness," he nodded curtly.The queen sighed, laying a careful touch on his arm. Beneath his shirt, she felt the layers of new bandaging around his shoulder and tricep. "Now, I'll let this incident slide this time, because I'm well aware that you are human being, with basic human needs. Food, water, rest." She emphasised her point by raising an eyebrow at his current state. "You, on the other hand, apparently fail to comprehend this. You're not infallible, Blake, and as the head of security, I need you to be in peak health. That's why I am placing you on suspension this week."Blake stood, taking a step towards her. "Majesty, your safety is my number one priority. As I pledged to you on the day of your ascension. I do not believe such a rash decision is necessary. In fact, as your head of security, I strongly advise against it."Clarke did not waste time to think over his statements. "Well, I do believe in its necessity. Blake, I cannot be safe while you are unwell, thus prompting me to believe that this is, in fact, the best course of action. You must learn to take breaks. Do I make myself understood?""My Queen." He bowed his head in her direction, but his expression betrayed his stance on the matter. If Clarke noticed, she didn't say anything about it."Now, we do have to discuss the mission you were executing, Blake. Don't think I don't know about that."Blake nodded, remembering the night's events. After spending some time eavesdropping on the villagers' heated discussion, he had descended onto the beer hall and tried to approximate their danger to the throne. His words were not taken with kindness, and slurs of his queen and her rule had been spoken. Blake has not stood for it, and that's when the first blow of the night fell. He had gauged their military skill, but lack of automatic weapons. Despite their anger, the villagers were not who he was looking for. Now, Blake looked his queen in the eye and told her only the bases of the mission, and his failure in determining who had attempted the murder on her mother's life. She seemed understanding, but clearly disappointed. "Very well." She turned, heading to the door. "I'll ask for some food to be sent up; some drink as well. And Blake?""Majesty?""Don't try to hide such a thing from me again. I know everything. If I don't, I'll find out. Be keen to remember that." On her way out, Clarke could have sworn she saw a half of a smile grace his lips.Night fell shortly after their encounter, but neither slept.The queen's personal medic joined him as the night went on, and was ruthless with his treatment. Contrary to the effect the physician was hoping for, the head of security spent his hours focusing in his mission to find the man who had made an attempt on the Queen Mother's life. Jackson was forced to watch as Blake poured over the castle's thousands of records, barely getting a wink of sleep.The queen, on the opposite side of the castle, chose to tend to her father's old work. The nature of his death has left many strings untied, and Clarke often found herself tying them whenever she was in need of solace. So far she had paid off due debts, collected outstanding taxes, and allocated land. She found that taking up his study brought her peace of mind, as though they were somehow reunited.The shocking news came to them in the deep hours of the night. Messengers sent by the Lord Kane came knocking at both doors. While Clarke was simply ordered to remain in her chambers for the next few hours, Blake was informed of a new death at court.Bryan and Emerson escorted the queen to her quarters with drawn weapons, taking underground passageways to avoid exposure. Clarke, without a clue of the situation, remained silent. The paranoia she had experienced during her tour had returned, and she found herself unable to ask questions. When she was returned to the safety of her room, she found Gina, waiting, thinking, mourning.Lord Green had been found dead in his chambers only hours before.Poisoned guards littered the hall around the chamber, and the coroner had placed the assault to have taken place at the time of the royal announcement. Blood stains tracked into the hall, staining the carpets. Servants were currently scrubbing away at the plush material with buckets of soap and water.The blood formed a trail to where the intruder had left the knife; a window with a clear view of the courtyard outside. He had watched the royal vehicle drive away. Gina spared the queen the details, but hinted at the gruesome fact that the killer had left a letter of blood on the glass."'I warned the king'," Gina muttered after Clarke pestered her for the exact wording.Close to losing her footing from lightheadedness, the queen was forced to slide to the ground. When Gina reached her, she was shaking and sobbing.Clarke had known his son, Montgomery. The two had been close friends as children; they had grown up together, but had grown apart as they grew older. The last time she had talked to him was after her twentieth birthday. All she could think of was how she would have to face him with the information of his father's death.Gina held the young queen until she calmed, picking her up and readying her for bed, despite the fact that Clarke was in no way expecting to fall asleep anytime soon. She sank into her bed, closing her eyes as Gina began untying her hair. The sun was due to come up in a few minutes.The growing number of murders at court were more inconvenient that worrisome. Clarke was well-aware of her security's boundaries, and believed the killer would be found in no time. Above it all, she was worried her noblemen, advisors, and guests may decide to retreat back to their own lands, where there was no threat to be made on the lives of themselves and their families.Such travesties were horrific to bear in only the beginning of her reign. The killer had to be found, and soon, if her reputation and her nobles were meant to survive through the season.Her blankets were hidden by the mass of files scattered around the bed. Clarke knew that if she had any chance in saving the lives of her court, she needed to know every single thing her father had done about the alliance with Lurrea.She was not surprised when, as the sun was already high in the sky, a guard announced the presence of a visitor. "Sir Bellamy Blake to see the queen!"She had been expecting him to visit her chambers much earlier."Gina bring me my silk robe— Let him in!" She called, and she heard the door open from behind her. A gust of cold air met her as she turned to face her guest.Both had changed in the hours since their last meeting, and it occurred to them that they had never been exposed to one another outside of the boundaries of formality. They stood now, before each other, in simple night clothes, and it was as though their ranks were non-existent.Willing herself to rid her mind of such thoughts, she watched as Blake rose from his curt bow to face her. "I'm sure you know what this is about, Majesty—""Ma'am— my apologies, your robe?""Yes, Gina, do come in." Clarke eased into the robe, pulling it around her to hide her nightclothes from the man in her presence. "Gina, I'm sure you're aware, Sir Blake. Blake, my handmaiden, Gina Martin."Blake offered a shallow bow to the lady, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Martin.""The pleasure is mine, Sir Blake."Clarke glanced at her maid to find a hint of a blush on her cheeks. Gina's eyes darted to the queen, who tried to hide a smirk as she dismissed her. She watched as Blake's eyes followed her friend to the door, before finally settling back on her."Majesty—""The murder. Yes, I was informed.""We need to discuss new security measures," he pressed."We do." Clarke shuffled the paperwork towards herself, making room for Blake in the opposite side of the bed. "Sit."At first, he gingerly took a step towards her bed, because he knew with absolute certainty that regardless of the serious nature of their conversation, what he was doing was inappropriate.She handed him a few files as he sat slowly. "This is all the documentation I have of my father's correspondence with Lurrea."Blake glanced towards her out of the corner of his eye, hoping she was not asking him to do what he thought she was going to."I know my father confided in you solely. I need you to find me the real files." Damn it. "Right away, Majesty.""Thank you. Now, what was it that you came here to share with me?" She settled into her pillows as she asked, trying to hide a yawn behind the sleeve of her robe.He tried to stifle a sly look, throwing her own words back at her: "When was the last time you had a real full-night's rest, Majesty?"She had to restrict herself to a warm smile. After all, it would be inappropriate for a queen to snort in front of one of her subjects.Blake took a look at Clarke, who he had had the honour of watching mature from a child only months ago, to the queen she was now.He had met her as a young princess, hiding under her mother's skirts. He never would have known it, looking at her her now, that she had been a shy child."Gwendoline, this is Bellamy. He's a new guard here." Jake had left the true nature of Blake's profession out of the introduction, eager to get the two acquainted. Blake had been the first subject at court who was close enough to her age for her to interact with. She held her hand out to him, and after a nod from the king, he had taken it and placed a tentative kiss onto it."Princess," he'd nodded.The friendship Jake had hoped for had never solidified.As they talked over the incident — Clarke, with reddened eyes — Blake began to see through the charade. Maybe it was because she had been stripped of her finery, her jewels, her makeup. Maybe it was because here, in the safety of her walls, she wasn't forced to be such an elegant being. Nor eloquent. She wasn't forced to be a queen.She was still only a girl. A tired, scared, lonely girl. She had been thrust into leadership too quickly, too harshly. She had advisors that were too accustomed to the old ways, and not enough support from those close to her.He had watched her interactions with her mother over the months; both women had been estranged since the death of the king, only meeting for public or otherwise exceptional events. They never truly smiled to one another anymore; it was always a polite lie."Blake, are you listening to me?""Yes," he said, before catching the gleam in her eye and admitting, "No."She shook her head lightly and smiled. He had seen her smile countless times, but for her to direct it towards him was foreign. "That's alright. It's very early. Where did you drown me out? I'll repeat.""Combing through the villages, Your Majesty."She nodded, "So not so long ago, that's a relief. Well, yes, I need to know your tactical opinion on sending a handful of guards to villages each week to survey their opinions.""To weed out the murderer.""Exactly. I believe it's one of my people, as much as I'd hate to admit it. I know the trust you have in your guards, and I trust your insight on the matter. As for the remaining staff of the castle, I know my father personally attended every interview. You would know something about that."Blake nodded. During the beginning of his time at the castle, he had tailed the king around the nation, learning his schedule, his duties, his enemies. He in turn had attended most of the servants' interview alongside Jake."I trust my castle. The only alternative is my people."Blake nodded. It made the most sense."I can agree with the idea, My Queen. Allow me to carry out your plans."Clarke shook her head, decidedly displeased. "No, Blake. As I told you, you're on a week's suspension. Let someone else take over. I'll allow you to look over the final plans for flaws later on, but for now, your suspension resumes."She knew that he was close to arguing as he inhaled sharply. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him shut his eyes in exasperation and exhale. "As you wish, Majesty.""Alright, Blake. If there's nothing else, feel free to show yourself out." Clarke gestured towards the door. He caught the informality in her tone, noticing how she avoided dismissing him.The curtains, though drawn, failed to keep out the shining yellow beam of the sun. The rays reflected off his face as he stood, bowed, and turned away. He was about to reach the door when she heard her voice again, this time muffled as she spoke into her pillow. "Oh, Blake, a moment."He turned back to her, and her eyes didn't open as she pointed towards her handmaiden's door. "Knock on that room. Gina doesn't leave until I'm asleep — walk her to her room, please.""My Queen," he bowed."I don't need any more dead friends." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The two royal subjects made polite conversation on the long path back to the servants’ chambers. They were both exhausted by the all nighter, so the chatter was kept to a minimum, and soon they were just walking in silence.When they stopped at her door, she held her hand out expectantly. He took it in his, and bowed to place a kiss on it."She still doesn't know, does she?" He asked softly as he rose."I don't think so." Gina grinned as she held his face in her hands, pulling him closer to her. After placing a soft kiss on his lips, she turned to her door.He grabbed her wrist at the last second. His grip softened when she didn't pull away."Any new intel on Lurrea?"She sighed, shaking her head. "Only that she's been more worried than usual."He nodded. "Thank you, Gina."She smiled, and seemed reluctant to say anything before he did. "You really care about her, don't you?""Hm? Who?"Gina playfully shoved him in the side. He returned the move, and she gave him a look that meant she knew he knew who she was talking about.Blake clenched his jaw. "I have to care about everyone." His tone was cold, curt.Gina only smirked, because to an extent, she had learnt how to read his body language over the last few months of their relationship, and she had hit a nerve."Yet you worry about her more."He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and all but smirked. "Well, it's my job, isn't it?"She pushed him gently, "You know what I mean, Bellamy."He admitted to nothing. He only asked, "Are you jealous?"She kissed him softly then. When she looked up again, he seemed humoured."No.""And you shouldn't be," he assured her. "She is my queen, and my only obligation is to serve and protect her."Gina tried to hold back a smile. "That's a lot of obligation," she pointed out.Bellamy smirked at her humour, kissed her hand again, and bowed shortly. "Good night, Gina."She curtsied in return, a sly smile on her lips; "Sir.""MURPHY!"The guard heard the queen before he saw her that afternoon. After she had only gotten a wink’s amount of sleep the prior night, the Queen had awoken ready and able to kill.Stationed outside her door, the security team had watched Gina enter the room only moments before they heard their monarch's voice.“Your Majesty,” Murphy bowed to her when he entered the room. When he looked up at her, she was seated in the middle of her vanity, servants pulling and pining her hair in all direction. The look she held in her eye contained venom, and it had his name written all over it.“Murphy,” she spoke curtly, and clearly she’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed that day. “Schedule.”After much consideration — and at Blake’s constant suggestion — Clarke had placed Murphy in a commanding position for the week; he would be Clarke’s primary source of security before Blake returned. Blake had spoken to the boy only hours before from the confinements of the guard’s conference hall. It was he most vital job of the entire castle, and as Blake’s right-hand man and partner of many years, Murphy had been the best suited for the job.He tried to hide an indignant scoff as he began to read the Queen her day’s schedule.By the end of it, his mouth was dry and his hatred for the Queen’s attitude developed. He truly didn’t know how Blake kept up with her everyday.“Thank you Murphy. Lead the way,” she ordered.The young knight dutifully took his queen’s hand and placed it on his arm in a graceful show of it.The crown’s first duty of the day was greeting Lord Montgomery Green and pay respects to the family. The funeral was to take place in another three days after the mourning period passed, but the Queen and Queen Mother made sure to show condolences as soon as possible. The noble Green family had been close friends of the throne for generations, and their respects were expected.Clarke saw her mother take an alternate route to the mourning chambers of Green as she exited her own. Abby was wearing a dress of similar colour to Clarke’s own: peony pink to symbolise friendship and healing. The neckline graced her shoulders with peonies embroidered into the cloth. The delicate flowers kissed the fabric, clinging onto every inch of the material. The Queen tiptoed around stepping on her falling blossoms, which were beginning to detach from the dress and float down gracefully to the plush castle carpets. Clarke also held a freshly-picked bouquet of poppies in her vacant arm, a gift to the Greens to provide consolation.Clarke herself didn’t see how a bunch of castle-garden flowers were going to console her friend through the death of his father, but it was the way of their people. She wasn’t to question nor sway from it; not if she wanted to avoid another reason to be targeted.The crier announced her presence before her mother’s. When Clarke entered the chambers, the room grew somber. The Green family, and their closest noble family, the Jordans, halted all conversation to peer up at their queen. Instantly, they stood and bowed — all for one person.Monty took two wide steps to reach Clarke, astounding all those around him. Without warning, he threw his arms around her, swallowing her in a tight embrace.Murphy, still by her side, flitted into an offensive stance, only letting it drop once he saw the Queen wrap her arms around her friend. The poppies fell to the ground beside their feet.“Monty,” she whispered into his ear, as she felt hot tears drop onto her shoulder. “The throne offers its deepest condolences for your loss.” She let her friend go, holding him at arms’ length so he could see how serious she was when she said, “I will do everything in my power to find who did this. We will avenge your father, Monty. I give you my word.”Behind Clarke, Abby nodded in agreement. Her eyes locked with Lady Green, who only bowed her head in thanks.Monty sniffed once, looking through his queen to see the face of his long-lost friend. “Thank you, Clarke,” he muttered, before sinking to his knees in front of her.Clarke knelt to him, holding out her hand for him to take. “No friend of mine must bow before me,” she said, as she pulled him back to his feet. “Never again.”As the late king’s personal assassin and contract spy, Blake had always had access beyond any other individual of the court. His knowledge of the nobilities’ dealings, agreements, and affairs came with many years of servicing his king. All the intel he gathered earned him his role as the Jacob’s most trusted confidant. It was the only reason Blake had a key to the man’s personal cabinet around his neck. I need you to find me the real files. His queen’s words rung in his ears. She wasn’t supposed to know about this. She wasn’t supposed to figure it all out. For all his abilities, Blake had sorely underestimated Queen Clarke. He had watched her grow, but perhaps not close enough. He seemed to fail determining the true scope of the queen’s intellect and wit. She was sharp-eyes, he’d give her that, but she was also so good at hiding it.He vaguely tried to determine the necessity of building higher walls for himself against her.Blake heard a sharp cough behind him. When he turned, he saw that damned medic hovering behind him.With strict instructions not to leave Blake’s side until he grew healthy enough to serve his queen, Jackson found himself tailing the guard into the depths of the Kings’ Library.The private library was built on a sharp incline of the city's mountains. Six floors high and half an acre wide, the King's Library was known castle-wide as "The Monarch's Secret". It was only guarded by a few necessary men, and access to the area was granted either on a restriction-based schedule or by emergency. Embedded into the mountain range, the library was also the strongest structure of the castle; impregnable from the outside. Blake, well aware that his ability to reopen the late king’s dated files were stunted by the man's presence, he had tried — perhaps not hard enough— to rid himself of the Queen’s own medic. It hadn’t worked as well as he had hoped, and it seemed that he had earned himself a permanent shadow.He had hoped to be able to use his skills as a spy to dodge his way around the medic, but with his injuries, his steps fell heavier, and his moves were more noticeable.His only resort was to bring in another man.He was well aware of the increased security of the Queen’s Guard — he had orchestrated it himself. There was only man he could call on from the off-duty population; the only man he would trust with the secret of the King’s collection — but it wouldn’t be considerate.The Queen's safety, he reminded himself. That was something he would not compromise on. Blake turned to the closest door, beckoning to the stationed guards. The two recognised their superior soldier, and saluted to him before one approached him. Jackson gave the guards space to discuss what he only assumed was official business.“Sir,” the guard saluted.“At ease, Soldier,” Blake responded. “Find Nathan Miller. He will be with his family…” Blake paused to turn to the bookshelf. He picked out the oldest looking book— one with a long-forgotten language as the title. He ripped out a page from the middle and scrawled a note onto the inside before folding it and tucking it into the guard’s hand. “Tell him I require his presence in the Kings’ Library.”“Sir!” The man saluted again, and promptly left to execute the Sergeant’s order.Clarke escorted the Green family to court that evening. The queen held her dutiful weekly hearings in the throne room. On that sorrowful day, not many of her people had dared visit. The Cursed Castle, they now called it. The killings were taking apart her reputation. She had heard rumours of her own castle, her own rule, that she failed to comprehend. That she had had her father killed. That her mother had hired assassins to take out loyal nobles. Th kingdom was falling apart, and she didn't know how to stop it from crumbling. She could only hope whatever was in her father's files would release her from her personal prison of shame and uselessness. Her nobles' balcony was sparse. Only three more subjects came to address their complaints before her. Blake truly was her last hope. Blake lead the medic in a maze-like stroll away from the restricted shelves as he saw Miller approach. The soldier, still in his mourning blacks, saluted him from afar to acknowledge his duty.The guard on duty returned to his post, nodding firmly to Blake before returning to a stationary stance by his position. He had safely delivered Miller his superior officer's note, albeit to his family's home. His only words at the door where his mother answered were, "Blake, for Miller," and he had understood. He'd passed him the note, waited for his comprehension, and escorted him back. mountain — pheonix — term — salt — wait The scrawled words had told him all he had needed to know. Their codeword for the Queen, Pheonix, with the code for killings and Lurrea, term and Salt, were particularly alarming. With the need-to-know basis of his job description, Miller took all the information he could get, and in this case, it was a matter of the Queen's safety against Lurrea. How it revolved around the recent killings of the castle, he could only imagine. Miller crumpled the worn paper in his fist and threw it into a nearby fire. The incriminating words of Sir Blake melted away into smoke with the flames. Blake wrapped his fingers around the key of the King's Cabinet, tucked safely under his shirt, and laying cold against his skin. In one smooth, harsh whip, he ripped the rope from his neck and let it clang on a nearby shelf. Miller's eyes were sharp, and followed his movements with eagle-like precision. He followed his superior to the ends of the library hall, awaiting his signal. As they approached a darker, dustier part of the hall, he saw Blake hesitate. Jackson halted behind Blake, watching his patient halter in his steps and slow to lean against a nearby wall. The sergeant's fingers traced the lines of his bandages, as though they were disturbing him. Clueless, Jackson faced the man. "Is there a problem with the bandages, Sergeant?" It was only then that Jackson noticed the blooming patches of blood on the front of Blake's shirt.As he turned his focus to retrieving his medical kit from his bag, Miller caught Blake's signal. Two shelves back and three rows left. As Blake allowed his actions to distract Jackson from the mission at large, Miller took to the shelving units to find the trap door. He didn't know what he was doing, but at this point in his military career he knew the vitality of trusting his Sergeant. The shelf Blake had directed him to was at the back of the library. The closest wall to it exposed the slick walls of the mountain range. It was dark, and there were no nearby lamps to use. Miller turned in his spot, searching for whatever contraption would require the use of the key he held in his hand. He was drawing a blank. He watched from the corner of his eye as Blake was escorted outside of the mountain-- most likely back into his ward. Miller had seen the sergeant's wounds for himself when Blake had first obtained them; he didn't know a man that could hide his pain more. Blake was gone, and there were no further instructions for him to follow. Struck, Miller racked his brain for any other clues the sergeant may have left him. mountain — pheonix — term — salt — wait He searched the perimeter for an opening in the walls, the floors, and the shelves. He ran his hands through the books, pulling and returning each one on the shelf.He couldn't find anything. Clarke's duties were cut short with the scarcity of subjects in her court. Her schedule had allotted another hour to the hearings, but no more arrived. She was still and silent on a nearby windowsill of the throne room. The cold sunlight enveloped her as she watched the beginnings of winter settling in. Individual snowflakes struck the glass she lay her head on, shimmering in the sun as the Queen watched her kingdom bustle below. They all kept a steady perimeter away from the cursed castle. Clarke had received word from most of the nobles shortly after she concluded the hearings. A message bearer hurried to her side as she settled onto the windowsill, unwilling to return to her chambers. For the safety and security of their families, most wrote. Surely Her Majesty understands, their voices struck out at her across the pages. We seek Her Majesty's forgiveness, one dared ask. She spoke to Kane, who had stepped up as her advisor. He assured her that the situation of the castle permitted it, and her anger would slowly dissolve into understanding. "It is upsetting, Your Majesty, but I assure you, perfectly legal. They will return in a few weeks." Clarke took Kane's words in for consideration. She would have hated to charge any of her nobles with treason for fleeing court, but Kane's intensive knowledge of the laws was the only thing stopping her from it. She knew it was a mistake, skipping out on her private tutoring of the kingdom's bylaws and legislation. She had always assumed she would pick up the knowledge when she was older, when her father showed more signs of ageing, or when her mother found out and forced her hand. But she had always assumed, like most children, that her parents were going to live forever. She had never foreseen herself in the position she was now: one parent down, the other targeted, herself on the throne. A serial assassin in the castle. Clarke remained at the windowsill for the remainder of the afternoon. All business that required immediate attention was brought to her in the throne room, and dealt with by a queen by the window. When Miller's fingers finally grazed the tiny nook in the ceiling corner, the guard had switched shifts, and the lanterns across the library had been refuelled twice. The keyhole was hidden in the corner intersection of the south wall and the overhead, and was covered by a characteristic bump in the mountain scale. Miller breathed in a sigh of relief as the metal tool slipped seamlessly into the orifice, and turned like a charm. The door swung open in a silent huff, and years of collected dust swirled into the guard's face. Miller remembered the Sergeant's code as he entered the tomb-like structure. He was looking for the King's information of Lurrea, vital enough to be hidden in this chamber. There were no nearby lanterns to guide him on his path, and the dimming lights of the outside library were not providing the guard with much of a visual. He relied on his hands against the cold stone to lead him to the end of the hall, where he hoped he would find the King's scrolls. Milled followed the chamber down a narrow channel, before the walls opened up to a hollow room. He was squinting in an attempt to find any document title that could aid his search, and when his eyes adjusted, he finally found what he knew was dangerous: the scroll he picked up had an inky Lurrea Dealings scripted across the front. This, he thought. This is information that got the King killed. He shuddered at the thought. This could be why my father is dead. A wave of remorse flooded Miller's body. He had to return to his family, soon. He used his hands, again, to guide himself out of the hidden chamber, the scroll tucked under his arm. The walls slowly retracted until he found himself by the opening of the narrow channel again, but this time, to his surprise, a lean figure blocked his path. "Where do you think you're going with that?" Gina visited Blake in his ward under the guise of the Queen's orders. She had her excuses ready, just in case someone tried to stop her. Turns out, no one was going to question the Queen's personal handmaiden. She gave a timid knock on the door, wondering if he was still awake. After hearing about his injuries, she wondered how she hadn't noticed when they had spoken earlier, or why he wouldn't say something about it. She had found out when the Queen's medic had sent a letter to the throne room on the sergeant's health, and it didn't look like she appreciated the information. Gina had read the confidential slip as the Queen handed it to her for disposal. The heavy wooden door of Sergeant Blake's chambers swung open. A dark-haired woman stood at the door, a stern look on her face. "Can I help you, Miss?""I'm here for Sergeant Blake." Confused, she looked into the room. Blake was at his study, Sir Lincoln by his side as he scribbled away at the Queen's security schedule. He didn't look up to the door. "I wasn't aware he would have company. I should go--" "Hey, Bellamy," the girl called. Blake's head snapped up, unyielding until he saw Gina at the door. His frown fell, and melted away into recognition. "Let her in," he said, and rose from his seat to greet her. The girl let him in, albeit with a sideways glance. Gina heard the door shut behind her, but her eyes remained trained on the bundles of bandages the sergeant had wrapped around his chest. Surely she would have noticed if he had been this badly injured?The Queen's medic was positioned at the far end of the room, attempting to read his medical journal amidst the overlapping conversations in the room. "Lady Martin," Blake tipped his head to her as he neared her. "A pleasure." "Sir Blake," Gina curtsied shortly. She looked around the room, eyeing the young woman and the towering Sir Lincoln. "The Queen sent me, but it's not urgent. I can go.""Nonsense. My sister and Lincoln were just leaving." The Blake sister gave her brother a disdainful look from her seat at his bed, but left respectfully. Lincoln followed her out, firmly shutting the door behind him. Jackson remained in his corner, near hiding his face in his book. Blake glanced over at the man before gesturing to his bed, allowing Gina to sit. He took a seat beside her, and her gentle hand found his knee. "You didn't say anything about this, Bellamy," she whispered. He only nodded slowly, bringing his hand to rest over hers. "It's alright, Gina." She wanted to lean in to press a soft kiss on his cheek, but she knew her boundaries when it came to it. "I have the information," she said softly. She passed him a small slip of paper from beneath her sleeve. "The Queen?" Blake asked, and Gina shook her head, "Lurrea." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "Where do you think you're going with that?" Miller stopped, stunned, at the voice directed at him. His fingers wrapped around the sword at his waist, and though his vision was not clear, he was ready to fight for the information in his hands. "By order of Queen Gwendoline, I order you to move!""I recognise no such monarch." The man stood firmly in the doorway. Miller was getting ready to strike him down when he added: "My loyalties lie with the President Dante of the Mountain Men." The Queen was getting fitted for her wedding dress when Gina entered her chambers through the handmaids' door. The Queen Mother was present with her own handmaiden, and the royal seamstresses. The Queen stood at a short pedestal by her mirror in her night shift, her hair open and flowing across her shoulders. A plain ring of silver sat upon her head, a draft for what would be her wedding crown. The head seamstress stood at her feet, measuring the length of the royal. The designer stood in the corner, nodding slowly. Rolls of cloth were brought into the chamber, of a thick baroque material, hand embroidered by the seamstresses in gold from bust to bottom. The head seamstress grabbed a roll from a nearby servant, tentatively pinning it to the Queen's silk shift. The heavy uncut material trailed onto Clarke's bed as it was unrolled and toyed with. "Ah, Gina, there you are," Clarke caught her handmaiden's look in the mirror. "Could you please draw my bath, it's getting quite late." Gina bowed slightly, and curtsied as she left. "My Queen." Clarke gave a shallow smile and a sigh as she watched her friend hurry away to fulfil the order. "Sergeant!" Miller was stood in the bare hallway, frantically knocking at the assassin's door, scrolls and sword in hand. The medic Jackson opened the door to Blake's chamber, confused at the loud rapping of the wood. Without awaiting permission, Miller feigned left and ducked right to pass the medic, whose protests failed to escape his throat. The young solider panted as he presented himself to his commander, dropping his sword by his feet. The key Blake had left for him hung from his neck, as did his black mourning clothes, slick with red. A long wound cut into Miller’s arm, still drawing blood. "Give us the room, Jackson," Blake demanded from his bed, watching Miller's concerned features. Jackson only turned to the Sergeant with a shallow glare. "Careful," he reminded him. "This time I mean it." Blake only waved him away, and turned to his colleague. "Sit." Miller waited for the door to close before he began to ramble. "Sergeant, I came right over -- I don't -- there can't be -- intruders in the Mountain--" "The Mountain Men." The kingdom knew of the stories. It had been a legend for generations upon generations, but no one had ever seen them. The stories of war criminals and thieves faded away into myths; a means of scaring small children into staying obedient and not straying too far from their parents. No one believed the stories anymore, but they were true. "It can't be," Blake muttered, gears shifting. "It's impossible." Miller sighed, shaking his head. He handed Blake the scroll in his hand. "One just tried to kill me, sir. They're real." Murphy knocked twice, sharply, on the door of the Queen's chamber. "Your Majesty, a telegram from Sir Blake." "Enter!" Clarke called, narrowly missing a clothing pin being stabbed into her shoulder because of it. Murphy peered through the door, careful of his gaze. He passed the sealed letter to the handmaiden of the Queen Mother, and shot off. Clarke resisted a humorous snort as Fox passed the slip to her. She waited for the seamstresses to remove the recently cut fabric from her body before she stepped away from her floor mirror, and stepped towards her bed for reading privacy. She gasped as she read the words, drawing her mother’s attention. “What is the matter, Gwendoline?” Clarke turned to face her mother. “I have to go.” “Gwendoline, we made an appointment —“ Her words fell short, and she went silent as she realised her daughter was no longer listening, but rather, storming out of her chambers. Clarke grabbed a nearby robe, pulling it over her simple shift as she pushed open her doors, to the surprise of the doormen waiting outside. “Murphy,” she called, and he followed her with his squadron as she made her way to Blake’s quarters. He was waiting for her when she arrived, a force of nature. He wanted to stand, but he assumed Jackson had updated the Queen on his status. He sat up straighter and bowed his head. “Your Majesty.” Miller bowed fully as she entered the room, waiting for instruction. “Clear the room,” Clarke ordered, not breaking eye contact with the assassin. “Miller, stay.” As her subject cleared the area, she reached towards a nearby desk chair and sat.Clarke only waited for the door to slam shut before she started. “Tell me this is not true.” Blake nodded once, and passed his Queen the scroll. “Miller retrieved this from your father’s vault this morning. He had an altercation with one of their kind before he could leave.” “Who else knows about this?” she demanded. “No one, my Queen,” Miller assured. “But we should see them as a threat. I barely escaped with my life today.” Clarke took the moment to look the soldier up and down. He had been patched up by the medic, wearing clothes that were not his. Long bandages covered his arms and neck, where Jackson had found deep stab wounds and shallow slices. “The medic says it was a miracle I managed to return here.” “Miller has always been our guard with the most willpower, Majesty,” Blake presented. “He brought us that scroll, and risked his life doing it. You will find the information inside to have been quite worth that sacrifice.” Clarke glanced in between the two soldiers. “You will be rewarded in kind, Sir Miller. You have made your crown proud today.” Miller bowed his head as the queen began unwrapping the scroll. She heard Blake excuse the other soldier as she revealed the text her father had spent his last days protecting. The Mountain Engagement Drafted by King Jacob of House Griffin of Arkadia Queen Anya of House Promheda of Lurrea To destroy the Mountain tribe politically and socially for the protection of the Kingdoms of Arkadia and Lurrea from the crimes committed by President Dante of the Mountain Men against The Kingdom of Arkadia The Kingdom of Lurrea The Kingdom of Sanctum The document went on to list the crimes the Mountain Men engaged in to the three kingdoms. Murder, kidnapping, torture, theft, political interference — all for personal gain. “It was likely that our king believed he had more time to tell you,” she heard Blake’s voice tell her through her shock. They had murdered the Princess of their neighbouring kingdom. “Majesty?” They said Josephine died in an accident. Blake looked to Miller, who took a silent bow to the Queen and escorted himself out the door. Clarke couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sheets of paper in front of her, detailing the terms of the contract between themselves and Lurrea. This is why my father joined forces with the enemy. This is why he died, why he was killed in his own home. Blake reached out to her, but she was too far away to touch. A loud knock on the door interrupted any other action he was going to take next. Jackson poked his head through the door, “Your Majesty,” he started. “I just came back to check on Sir Blake’s injuries — I can come back later—” “Nonsense, please,” she waved him towards the bed, to Blake. Jackson knelt by the Sergeant’s bedside, and opened his medical kit. He glanced at the queen before gesturing for Blake to open his shirt. The bandages were beginning to be exposed: thick, and stained red. Jackson got to work of pulling them away to check the stitches he had given his patient only a few days before. Clarke couldn’t tear her eyes away from Blake’s swollen skin. The black medical thread Jackson used could be seen holding the man’s skin together, from the left side of his chest to the right side of his stomach. Someone had been eager to kill him. Because of her. “Don’t worry, Your Majesty,” Blake’s voice broke her out of her trance. It was only then that she realised he had caught her staring. “I’ve lived through worse.” Clarke turned away, burning. She couldn’t imagine what her medic must be thinking of her decency. Jackson coughed to clear the tension, saying, “The stitches that opened this morning seem to be healing well, now.” Clarke’s head snapped back at him, but Blake was determinedly looking away from her. The Queen maintained her silence, however unhappy. “I see you were not informed about today’s events.” Jackson muttered, and spent the rest of his time in the room in silence. He was a quick worker, unwrapping and retyping Blake’s chest and arm with clean bandages with ease that only came from experience. There was a time when Clarke had thought her father would rule their kingdom to an old age, and she would have time to apprentice under the castle doctors. The work always fascinated her; the purpose always spoke to her. She wanted to do nothing but help her people, and be their protector in all things. With only three months into her role as Queen, she’d failed at all of it. Jackson finished off his business and bowed before hurrying away, eager to let the two speak in privacy of what he could only imagine be a matter of great importance. Clarke followed him to shut the door behind him, taking a moment to consider it, then locked the door to Blake’s room. “Whatever we say in this room stays in this room, Blake.” “Of course.” She trailed slowly back towards him, her robe ebbing behind her. She only hesitated a moment before she brought herself to the side of his bed, taking a ginger seat beside him. Blake only cleared his throat as he watched the most powerful person in the kingdom shuffle towards him. “You know how much I need you,” she started, her eyes glued to her fingers. He followed her gaze. A ring he didn’t recognise was sitting on her left hand, shimmering up at him. He remained quiet, unsure if she was giving him room to speak. “I know you know this, Blake, but you are the only person that my mother trusts.” She took a deep breath before admitting, “The only person, that I trust.” She took this moment to look him in the eye. “And it is for this sole purpose that I need you to recover quickly. I received an update that you will be requiring bedrest for another two days; take it. I understand your rush, I truly do. My duty is to my people, and all I want to do is to be able to protect them from whatever monster is roaming the halls. But I can’t, and it’s as though I can’t come up for air — I understand.” She shuffled closer towards him, her long hair beginning to curtain her face as she returned her gaze to her fingers. All she wanted to do was protect everyone; all he wanted to do was protect her. Blake restrained himself from reaching out to her. “I understand what you ask of me.” Clarke took a shaky breath, nodding at his words. “I need you to be okay. I have lost too much.” Blake offered her a small smile that was intended to be comforting. “I will be.” The queen wiped away at her face, swiping away a tear she thought he hadn’t noticed drip onto her cheek. “Good. Then we need to get back to the contract.” Blake straightened in his bed, reaching towards the document. “Will you tell the people?” he asked as he passed it over to her. She shook her head calmly. “They can’t know. No one would feel safe anymore. I don’t even know if I do.” “There are strangers in our walls, in our mountain. Perhaps we should relocate you to a safer position.” Clarke looked sceptical. “Leave my home?” “It would be the only way to keep you safe for sure. Your father has multiple safe houses across the kingdom. Dozens of vacation homes for you to stay in until we can figure out how to get rid of them. Whatever your father has in here —“ he pointed to the scroll in her hands “— we can use to neutralise the threat against your life.” “We can’t, we have to keep up appearances —" “My Queen, your safety is beyond the priority of keeping up appearances. “We cannot let the people panic!” “And I will not let you die in this castle!” The two fell into a heated silence after that. “There’s more, Majesty,” Blake tried after a long minute. Clarke looked up at Blake, astounded, and he continued. “A source came through with some information on Lurrea. About the attempt Her Majesty to Queen Mother’s life a while ago.” The young royal’s eyes met his, and they pleaded with him. He read her expression, her desperation, her anguish. He knew he was the one who put those emotions there; the one who had gone after the shooter and failed at capturing them. Instead he had returned unable to perform his duty to his living queen, unable to serve and protect her. “He is not of Lurrean descent.” Clarke gasped with the air she didn't know she was holding in her lungs. The dam broke, along with her heart, at Sir Blake’s next words: “The assassin is Arkadian. We’ve found him.” The queen remained in Blake’s chambers until nightfall. The squadron wasn’t sure of how to address the situation; not when they’d heard the distinctive click of the lock hours ago. The voices that came through the thick wood were muffled, low, and eventually, silent. Reyes and Collins spent the time patrolling the hall outside the ward. Rhys took to loading and unloading his weapon over and over again, until Bryan asked him to stop. Miller had retreated to his home hours ago, returning to his grieving family. Murphy remained still against the door. Silent, and waiting. When their Sergeant Blake had first requested his attendance as his own replacement, Murphy had been thrilled. The role was of the highest security positions in the castle; it was why his parents had sacrificed everything they had to get him trained for castle life. But as the days went on, and the Queen’s safety was put in his immediate responsibility, he realised why he was chosen. He was dispensable. Blake himself had almost died in the direct line of fire, trying with all his might to protect the sovereign. Murphy was only asked to step in for a week or two; with that level of danger involved in the role, Murphy knew he wouldn’t make it out of this job alive. Still, when his queen stepped out of his superior’s quarters with red-rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks, he did his duty. When she clutched his arm and let him lead her down the hall towards her chambers, he did his duty. When he finally left his shift and stepped out of his uniform, he did his duty. He would protect her if it meant he would let her spend his last breaths in her favour. When he found a man, clutching the Queen’s handmaiden to his chest with a knife against her throat in the guards’ quarters: He did his duty. Gina had been on her way to fill the Queen’s tub with freshly heated water when she heard the first knock. “Just a moment!” She called, and emptied the first bucket into the grand marble bath. It’s only another servant, she thought to herself, and she couldn’t risk overstepping on the Queen’s scheduled bath time for a servant who was likely just lost in the castle on their first day. She set the second bucket near a spout to fill up while she answered the door. To her surprise, a tall man stood before her, smiling patiently down at her. “Hello, Miss. I’m here to seek an attendance before our queen.” Gina stood guard, confused. He spoke like a gentleman, yet he seemed unaware of the customs they held. “Of course. Queen Clarke is hosting her court as regular tomorrow morning.” She didn't like how he was looking down at her. He looked completely unfamiliar, which was odd for someone with permission to roam the castle. She started to close the door, eager to keep him out of the Clarke’s private bathhouse. “You must excuse me, I’m —“ He stopped her short, whipping out a hand to stop the door. “You don’t understand. I know she is due for her bath now. I will see her, now.” “That is improper behaviour, sir, I cannot allow that. Please, come back tomorrow.” Behind her, the bucket she had set down was beginning to overpour. “I’m afraid I have to go now.” The man stepped into the bathhouse, edging closer into Gina. She was taken aback, and stepped away instantly. She was about to say something when she saw the glint of shining metal tucked away into the back of his pants. “I’m afraid,” he dragged out, taunting her, “I cannot let you do that.” Gina wasn’t sure how he managed to step behind her as quickly as her did, but before she could comprehend his movements he had already pinned her to the ground. Her face was pushed against the cold marble floors, his hand on her neck unrelenting. “Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t do this.” She saw her blood begin to fall; the marble had cut her forehead open, her blood beginning to mix with the overflowing water that was making its way towards her, as though reaching out to her. She felt the cold water soak into her hair, and her dress, but there was nothing she could do to remove the man pressing her into the floor. “I can just wait here until the Queen herself makes an appearance,” he taunted. She wondered if this is how she would die. Covered in bathwater, a knife against her shoulder blades, and stranger’s hand pressing her into the floor of a bathhouse. “Please, no,” she began to sob, her ribs aching with nowhere to go with the man sitting achingly on her waist. She thought she might break in half. “Where is Gwendoline?” he demanded, pulling her up to face him by her hair. “I don't know, please,” Gina’s sobs overtook her words. “I swear I don't know, she was supposed to be here already, please.” Gina said nothing about how the Queen would wait in her chambers until Gina called to her, informing her that her bath was drawn. She said nothing about how when her presence was expected, but not seen, Clarke would grow wary of her whereabouts and send a guard to find her. She said nothing about how when they found her, the crown’s most vicious assassin would come after him and kill him without mercy for touching her. She also said nothing, when no one came looking for her. Murphy didn’t know what torture Gina had to endure to reach the guards’ quarters with this strange man, but he didn’t doubt that Gina had done her part in leading him away from the Queen. She was in terrible shape, bruised around the collar, blood fallen and dried from her neck. Murphy drew his gun from his back pocket, aiming it at the intruder. “What are you doing with her?” He demanded. “So you’re Sir Bellamy Blake.” Dispensable. “What do you want with her?” Murphy ploughed on. “Simple leverage, you see,” the man droned, clutching the knife closer to Gina’s throat. Murphy paid him no mind; his eyes were trained on Gina’s, watching her steadily. She knew what he was thinking; it was likely that even if he shot that bullet, no matter how quick it was, the intruder still had time to slit her throat. “What do you want?” His voice, to his credit, remained steady. “Where is Gwendoline?” Murphy came to the morbid realisation that Gina was saving the Queen’s life as they stood, a breath for a breath, a minute for a minute, a life for a life. “I’ve just sent her away to her mother’s family’s home,” Murphy released. He just needed to stall him, Reyes and Collins were due to complete their shifts at any moment. Any second now, and they would come stumbling down here and help him out of this atrocious situation. But the bluff was called quickly. “No, you’re lying.” “I put the Queen into the carriage myself, she’s probably halfway there by now. Now let the maid go, and you can leave.” Murphy’s eyes darted to Gina, his gun still held steady. “We both know you’re not going to let me do that. I’m going to ask one last time: Where. Is. The Queen?” Gina’s eyes shut tight, wishing it all away. She had seen it in Murphy’s eyes: the guilt, the apology. “Tell Bellamy I’m sorry.” He took the shot. And his hypothesis was right. Blake was on his feet in time for Gina’s funeral. Clarke stood beside him, clutching his arm for balance as they lowered her oldest friend into the fresh grave. Instead of black, she wore a dark evergreen frock— Gina’s favourite colour. A dark veil covered her face from view. Her swollen, unwashed, tear-streaked face. She hadn’t stopped crying for three days. Gina was buried in the castle gardens, beside Sir Miller as one of the crown’s most proud martyrs.The intruder’s body was returned to the people, to be buried wherever they saw fit. Clarke would later be satisfied with the knowledge that no one claimed him, and he was buried in an unmarked grave at the edge of the town. Unremembered. Clarke spoke at the funeral, to Gina’s mother and younger sister. She released them of their duties in the castle, and pledged the throne’s continued support of their family’s finances for the rest of their lives. Gina’s family would be treated like her family, granted land in the village, and funds to start them off. They wouldn’t have to worry about anything ever again. At the conclusion of the ceremony, Clarke’s squadron team guided her, with Blake at its head, back towards the castle. As Clarke clutched onto Blake’s arm for structural support, she let herself fall back into her recent rhythm of deep inhales and slow exhales. He noticed her body heave with every step they took together, until they had returned to the familiar walls of the castle foyer. The guard team dissipated as Blake lead Clarke up the grand staircase towards her private quarters. By the time they reached her door, only Murphy and Bryan remained. Blake was the first to stop, head bowed as he lead Clarke inside the room. He nodded towards Murphy and Bryan, signalling for them to keep guard outside. He closed the heavy door behind him, waiting for Clarke to say something. Instead, she pulled the veil off her head, her hair pulling with it. She tossed the garment to the floor as she slipped off her shoes, and rolled into bed, back turned towards him. It was only the beginning of her day. Blake cleared his throat. “You have appointments, Majesty.” “Schedule.” Her voice was low, rasp. Blake sighed as he rounded the corner of her bed to find her eyes. He leaned over to find fresh, silent tears beginning its journey to her pillow. The silk case was already stained with black makeup from when she had awoken for the Gina’s burial. “Perhaps we can cancel court today, give you some time to recover from the funeral.” “Which one?” She had been in attendance for too many funerals in the last week. She wondered if it was every going to stop, or if she would have to keep suffering through her subjects until death found her too. Blake remained silent as the Queen turned back away from him, this time pulling the blankets over her head. “Wake me up for court,” she muttered, her voice still thick from the welled up sorrow. “We keep up appearances.” Blake nodded, even when he knew she couldn’t see him. “There is some more business we have to discuss. Perhaps we can continue this later, My Lady.” Clarke nodded from her place in her bed. He was already on his way to the door of the Queen’s room when he heard her faint, sniffling request. “Please don’t leave me alone.” He turned back to her and found that her charade had dropped. He saw a girl who lost her closest friend. A queen unsafe in her own home, yearning for protection he felt no one could give her. A child forced to maintain a presence in front of her kingdom despite how much she was hurting — suffering — on the inside. His heart broke for the girl they both lost; the one solace they both found in a castle full of treachery and horror. He looked into the eyes of someone who had yearned to say something, where words could not be formed.So he didn’t. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Blake stayed with Clarke for the few hours she had of rest until she was due in court at midday. He’d listened to her quiet sobs, starting and stopping every now and again until she drifted into fitful sleep. He stayed through her whispered pleading with whoever she was facing in her nightmares. He stayed as she woke, gasping, and searching for him. From his place between her locked door and her bed, protected her from the outside world like he couldn’t protect her from her own thoughts. The sun danced into the centre of the sky before he stood from the Queen’s vanity seat and edged towards her, one arm holding back the sword at his hip — the other outstretched towards her shoulder. He hesitated briefly, wondering of the propriety of the action he was contemplating — until his thoughts faded away at the sharp knock on the door. Clarke’s eyes fluttered open, squinting to adjust to the brightness of the sun outside. Her gaze settled on her assassin, calmly taking in his features. One arm lay gently on her arm, in a sorry attempt to wake her. She blinked a few more times, and realised the indecent of the situation. “Blake—“ her voice was raspy, from the tears and exhaustion. “My Queen,” he whispered, leaning over her to gently help her up. She bolted upright, clearing her throat as she pulled her legs to the side of the bed. “Speak of this to no one.” He only nodded once, a small smile grazing his lips for the first time in the longest time. Blake waited for her outside her room as she changed into more formal attire for her required presence at court. When she emerged, a thin crown graced her hair, her skin polished. She looked like she’d never experienced the loss of a loved one. As Blake offered his arm to her for the start of their journey to the throne room, he began to process how sorry he felt for her. It was one of the last things he had ever expected himself to indulge in, but pity and sorrow settled into his perception of the Queen. For all her family’s wealth, access, riches, and privilege, she stood before him truly alone. Her family had abandoned her, her nobles had fled from her, and her staff feared her rule. Everyone she loved had suffered, and it was only a matter of time before they were all dead. She may stand tall, wearing gowns more expensive than his family’s monthly expenses, and enough gold to feed a province, but she had nothing. Today she graced the halls wearing a white gown of rich gabardine, falling past her ankles to drag a long train behind her. It signified her physical and moral purity. Gold and silver statement pieces were sewed into the material, eluding to her wealth and morality. Her hair was left simple, brushed back, and held in place with a pearl hairpiece that belonged to the Earl Jaha’s late wife, Wells’ mother. Today was the day she would be presented with the Jaha house at court as the betrothed royals of Arcadia. “Tell me something, Blake,” he heard the Queen mutter to him in a hushed tone as to keep the conversation private from the guard squadron following them, “What was your last memory of Gina?” Even saying her name made her voice tremble. Blake looked down at the queen on his arm, stunned. Did she know? Or was she simply attempting to keep Gina’s memory alive? As if reading his thoughts, Clarke added, “You don’t have to lie, Gina alluded to it some time ago. I’m glad she had the company.” Blake nodded slowly. “She assumed you would be upset, otherwise she would never try to hide something from you, Majesty. She was fully loyal to you, and serving you.” Clarke scoffed. “I know,” she whispered. “It was what got her killed after all,” He took a long sigh, unsure of how to proceed until the words came to him. “My last memory of her was in the gardens below, the sun shining down on us; her smiling as though she hadn’t a care in the world.” The queen didn't respond, but Blake felt her tense at his arm. Her fingers tightened around his forearm, and she stopped in her tracks. When he looked down at her, her eyes were closed, her lips pursed, her lip quavering. Attempting to hold in the waterfall that waited to pour. “I’m sorry if I upset you — “ “No,” Clarke shivered, “That’s beautiful— my last words to her were ‘prepare my bath—‘“ She stopped herself from breaking, clamping a cold hand over her own mouth to keep herself from crying out. “I can’t do this, I can’t.” She was turning to return to her room. Her fingers stopped from their hold on Blake’s arm, and the Queen tore past her security detail until she could no longer see them. She didn’t know if they came after her until she heard heavy footsteps near the castle column she had stopped behind. Whoever it was towered over her as she lay crumpled to the ground, trying and failing to keep her sobbing inside. With all her pent-up guilt towards Gina, she couldn’t stop for the life of her. Blake dropped down to kneel before the queen; she didn't notice him— not until she felt his hands at her arms pick her up and collect her into himself. Her racking sobs pushed against his ribs with every movement, but he refused to let her go. He swaddled her with his arms, tucking her head under his chin to calm her. She knew she had to contain herself, but in that moment, she was lost to the pain. Her arms, first trapped between her body and his, made their way around his torso until she was clutching him to her; her one source of unwavering confidence. Clarke felt his hands push her hair away from his face, before settling and tucking her away to safety in his arms. His arms swallowed her whole, obscuring her view of the rest of the world. It was all she could do to breathe him in. The security detail that had followed them stopped in their tracks, considering turning away. “It’s not your fault,” he assured her. “There is nothing that you could have done.” His words made their way through her body, calming her soul. She found her hiccupping breaths slow, as she eased into his hold. His arms swaddled her like a warm, comforting blanket, his calm breaths tempting her to follow along with them. Clarke found her mind ease as she settled into him. Perhaps this was what her father had wanted for them all along. As she clutched onto the soldier’s arm, pulling him into her embrace, she could think only of her father, and how he had sent her her most valuable confidant. She felt unease when he wasn’t by her side; the last week without him had been no less that torture to her. She wasn't sure exactly how it had started, but as she lay quiet in the arms of the man she once loathed, Clarke wondered if the stirrings in her chest were really aimed towards the assassin that held her. She didn't know how, but here he was; the man she had once known to hate and be wary of had somehow become her most trusted subject. If there was only one thing she knew, it was that with Sir Blake by her side, no one could ever hurt her. The embrace wasn’t meant to last long, only to comfort the mourning queen until she was fit to face her people. Blake didn’t know how long he spent on the lush carpeted floor of the castle, with the Queen pressed into his chest, surrounded by respected colleagues. He wasn't sure if she had heard him, but he maintained his hold on her until her tears turned into soft gasps, and she muttered back so softly he was sure he was the only one who heard, “She was my best friend, and I just let her die for me. She died, protecting me.” His voice was the softest she’d ever heard it when he said, “We both lost Gina, your Majesty, but we must move on if it means our survival in this castle.” When she finally looked back up at him, they were late for her court appearance, but he couldn’t bring himself to push her away from him. He wasn’t aware of what had happened since he was last conscious of his suppressed aversion towards the Queen— then only a princess. She had always pulled an aloof front; on of the few faces in the kingdom that he could not read. Perhaps it was the sympathy he had grown to experience from her, or her vulnerability behind closed doors. Perhaps it was his own sympathy for her that had shifted Blake’s feelings of the queen away from a quiet dislike — into something more profound. Perhaps it was interest. Maybe even the beginnings of like. He held her teary gaze until the large overhead bell began to toll. It broke the two of them out of their silent gaze and into reality— a reality in which her entire courtroom was waiting for her. “You can postpone if you don’t feel up to it, Majesty.” He whispered this near her ear, and was the second attempt he made that day to stop her from overworking himself. Blake looked the Queen in the eye one final time, checking her eyes for any signs of remnant sorrow. She shook her head, steadfast in her decision. Her lower lip trembled, and her fingers were weak on his arm as he helped her to her feet. She struggled to maintain his gaze. It was one of the rare moments he could tell exactly what she was thinking. He hated himself for having to say his next words. “Then-- Your new husband is waiting for you.” Clarke nodded slowly, pushing damp strands of hair away from her face. Her voice was thick as she said, “Lead the way.” The court crier announced the presence of Her Royal Highness as she stepped into her throne room. Clarke saw her betrothed waiting for her by the royal podium, awaiting his turn to address. Earl Wells of Jaha wore a suit that resembled her own attire; pure white to symbolise their purity and commitment. He wore her father’s Griffin crest atop his breast pocket. It shone in the sunlight as he turned to face her as she entered, bowing deeply. The remaining members of the court eagerly awaited the Queen’s response. Clarke approached him with Blake by her side, and was as surprised as he was when her voice didn’t falter as she spoke. “Earl Wells, you may rise.” He nodded, rose, and took her hand. Blake tried to tear his eyes away as the Earl leaned to place a soft kiss on her hand. Clarke’s eyes met her mother’s, already in place at her throne. If she looked concerned for her daughter’s mood, she made no such gesture of acknowledgement. He felt the Queen’s grip on his arm loosen to follow Wells as he lead her to her throne— Blake’s usual responsibility. Blake bowed to the Queen as she sat atop her throne, and followed her footsteps to stand guard behind her. His eyes followed the young Earl as he veered off back into the court, back in front of the podium. His father joined him. “My Queen,” The Earl Thelonius of Jaha started, “You honour our family by accepting the earnest house of Jaha’s humble proposal. Today, we show you our gratitude by bringing the house Griffin the gift of spring.” A Jaha servant stepped forward, head bowed, and arms outstretched. In his hands, he carried a simple plotted plant. Wells stepped forward to take it into his hands, and continued. “My Queen, today we bring you the humble plant to represent our house in your home.” He took tentative steps forward, holding the white dahlia out to the throne. “Let our joined houses be the symbol of first spring.” Collins stepped out of his line in the guard to approach the young Earl. He took the dahlia pot, examined it carefully, and turned for Blake’s approval before climbing the steps to the Queen’s throne and passing it to her. Clarke took it with a polite smile to the guard, before turning to the man she was meant to spend the rest of her life with. “Thank you for this beautiful gift, Earl Wells.” She made the movement to pass it to her handmaiden, like she was used to doing — when she realised Gina wouldn't be helping her with anything anymore. She still hadn't had the heart to replace her head handmaiden. Clarke felt a sharp pang force its way through her corset. She was still holding out the potted plant when Blake approached the throne from behind. With one tender hand on hers, and the other on the clay of the pot, he took it from her slowly. She passed him a weak smile before turning back to Wells. “We accept your gift, Earls of House Jaha. Perhaps we should plant it together this evening.” Wells bowed to her once again. “It would be my honour, My Queen,” he said, before guiding himself and his father back towards their place in the court. Clarke turned to her mother, who only gave her a small, reassuring smile. The Queen’s duties passed quickly that afternoon. After court, she took to answering the qualms of the people over letter, and setting up meetings for security and army briefings for the rest of the week. When evening finally dawned, she had met with hundreds of her subjects, and answered hundreds more of their letters. But if her left hand felt weighted, it wasn’t because of her extensive letter-writing. She stole moments away from her day to stare at the jewel encircling her ring finger. It still didn't feel real, to marry this man she barely knew. She had grown up in his vicinity, just like she had with Monty— but she had never bonded with Wells as well as with him. When it came time to carry out her garden engagement with the Jaha family, as promised in court that afternoon, Collins came to escort her to the outdoors. “Blake couldn’t make it?” She asked as she wrapped her arm around the guard’s. “Sir Blake has been caught up in a security meeting, Ma’am. He should join us in the gardens shortly.” “And who has he left in his absence?” “Murphy, Ma’am.” Ah, Murphy. Clarke didn't know what it was about that guard in particular, but she could see why Blake often left the man in charge of her safety while he was away. The week that they had spent together was a unique one; while Blake had clearly been unimpressed with the Queen’s personality when they had first met, he had still made sure to keep a respectful barrier between them. When Clarke was with Murphy, she felt his unfiltered opinions in every word he said; he didn't pay much attention to sugarcoating his thoughts, or finding the most eloquent way to deliver a message. Something about that was refreshing to have around. She knew she was especially indebted to him for saving her life, even if he could not save Gina’s. He had sat with her and Blake that fateful evening to relay the details of the incident as it had happened, and spared no details in doing so. It was through him that she knew of Gina’s final sacrifice, and received confirmation of her suspected relationship with Sir Blake. Murphy’s words still hung heavy in her mind as Collins stopped before the candlelit doorway towards the gardens. ‘She said, “Tell Bellamy I’m sorry.”’ Collins spared the Queen a sideways glance. “Are you alright, Ma’am?” It was only then that Clarke noticed the sharp stinging in her eyes. She could only imagine how haunted she must have looked. She willed herself to not lose her grip of herself and keep moving forward. “Of course.” Collins only nodded and allowed the Queen to exit the castle. Her eyes found Murphy’s instantly. He passed her a stiff nod from his place by the entryway, and gestured towards a nearby bench. The new white dahlia plant was already waiting for her. Before she could reach out towards it, Wells had already joined them. “My Queen,” he bowed deeply as he reached her, taking her hand in his. He placed a kiss in the back of it like he had in the afternoon. “Please,” Clarke started. “You can call me Gwendoline.” Wells nodded his head graciously. Clarke only smiled uneasily as he lead her into the plot the royal gardeners used to plant new stems. Murphy followed every step they made, three paces behind her. The potted plant hung miserably in his grasp. Wells was the first to drop to his knee. Clarke found a nearby stone bench and watched as he slicked open a knife from the inside of his sleeve, and began digging. Perhaps not the most effective way, but Clarke admired his spirit. She wondered if one day she could learn to love this man. Her mother had said something along those lines when Clarke was old enough to understand her parents’ story. I told myself to love him, and so I did. Was it really that easy? To dedicate your entire life to a man you barely knew? To fabricate something that replicated real love? Clarke wondered if that was something she would ever have. “Gwendoline?” The sound of her given name struck her back into reality. Queens don't get true loves, she reminded herself. They get set up. “Hm?” Clarke turned to face Wells, looking back up at her in amusement. One glance behind him told her he had taken to planting the dahlia himself. He had one arm out to her, ready to lead her back towards the castle. “How about we stay outside for a while? It seems like quite a lovely night.” “Lead the way, Your Majesty.” Clarke let her hand fall into his, which seemed to surprise him. He didn't say a word, perhaps catching her drift. They were to be man and wife; Queen and Husband. They might as well get used to each other. Clarke lead him towards a nearby gazebo, near the castle doors. Its windowless structure reflected each dancing flame, shining in the simple moonlight. She let herself lean over the stone column rail, overlooking the vast gardens. She turned to Wells, who looked at her with an unidentifiable glint in his eye. He joined her at the rail, casting his gaze over the tall hedges and the crowding shrubbery. Clarke took him in. As a sight; as a husband; as an opportunity; as hope. She wrestled with the idea of him being her entire future. But when they got to talking, their conversation didn't stop. Blake sighed as he pulled away from the round table where the Queen’s Guard held most of their official business. The conversation of the past hours still rang in his head; he played around with the thoughts until they garbled into nonsense in his mind. The executive who took Murphy’s statement had called the Guard over on urgent matters. The Queen wasn’t safe. Not yet. “It’s too easy,” Blake had interjected. “An hitman with opportunity and ability to assassinate King Jacob cannot be this easy to be rid of.” They seemed to agree with him and ponder his insanity at the same time. Now, left alone, it was all her could do to protect his Queen with the best of his might. Blake signed off on the last guard schedule and completed his last round before he could make his return to the Queen’s side. He hadn’t expected to be as late as he was for the engagement, and had sent an order for Murphy to replace him as soon as it looked like he would be unable to make an appearance on time. He passed the Queen’s chambers, guarded day and night regardless of her presence, and nodded to the two stationed guards. Pike and Bryan passed him a quick nod back as he crossed the hall. He took the long way down, as he usually did, checking up on the stationed men at each checkpoint. By the time he had crossed to the other side of the castle, night had fully fallen. He watched the old keeper light each oil lantern across the garden slowly. The flames danced in the cold, catching in the castle’s tinted windows. Blake peered through one, searching for his charge and her fiancé. It was only then that Blake noticed a glint in the corner of his eye. He tilted towards the balcony overlooking the gardens— the one protruding from the Queen’s bedroom. Had she not left to meet the Earl yet? Had Collins not come to collect her, as he had planned? But there was no squadron surrounding Clarke’s quarters, as he had remembered it — only Pike and Bryan. Blake whipped the glock out of its holster, aiming it towards the dark figure. He didn't hesitate in shooting a silenced shot towards it. Based off of the shattering of the Queen’s balcony window, the darkness hadn't been kind to his aim. Blake broke into a sprint, finding the doorway towards the patio where the Queen was meant to be. He found Collins in the doorway, waiting. “Where is the Queen?” he demanded. They didn't go outside, he thought to himself. They didn't go outside, they didn't go outside, they didn't go outside— “They just went outsid—“ Blake tore past him, sprinting towards the direction of the flower garden. He heard the shot before he saw the bullet as it tore through the garden sky. Murphy moved at the same speed he did; they both leapt towards the Queen. Blake managed to reach her first. He wrapped one arm around her head, the other around her waist, and pulled her into him as he brought her to the ground. Clarke felt her back crack against the stone floor of the patio, sending a shooting pain up her spine. Her head, protected by Blake’s hold, narrowly missed receiving the same treatment. Clarke felt Blake’s heavy breath on her neck as he paused above her, waiting for the next shot — ready to protect her body with his. When it came, he saw the Queen’s eyes shut tightly as she curled into his hold. Her hands tightened around his arms, caged around her. He didn't let her go as shot after shot came down, until the shooter ran out of his first round. Collins came running into the patio, shield drawn. Clarke felt Blake’s arms loosen from around her before she fully registered that he was leaving her. Her head dropped onto the ground as Blake propelled himself against the stone rail, firing three shots against the figure in the balcony. This time, he didn't miss. Clarke heard him bark orders towards Collins to take her inside, but could barely comprehend it as Collins tried to help her up. Her eyes froze on the bodies of Wells and Murphy, splayed across the stone tiles. Their blood pooled together, drowning the back of their clothes. The pool had reached her, and stained the bottom half of her dress. Wells clutched his leg in pain, his fingers quickly becoming red with his blood. Murphy lay a few feet past him, closer to Clarke. He had taken a bullet to the stomach for her. She didn't have time to argue with Blake or Collins as they both ordered her back into the castle. Collins grabber her hand and pulled her into the safety of the large metal shield before leading her away into the safety of the indoors. Clarke tried to look back to find Murphy; just to check if he was okay, when she noticed her red-stained hair. She was beginning to wonder how blood has found its way to her when the red stains began to catch her eye. “There’s blood on my dress.” She mumbled to herself, paralysed in her spot. She held up her hands— her skin was split open with a tear that lined her arms from where she had hit the stone. When Blake finally followed them back inside, a crowd of servants had already begun to encircle the Queen. He barked at them to find the medic and fuck off, which most of them took unkindly. Clarke, however, was too stunned to hear him cuss out her staff. Blake didn't give time to either of them to recover from the shooting. He waved Collins away to care for Murphy and Wells until the medic arrived, and grabbed the Queen’s hand from her side. She followed him mindlessly wherever he lead her, and found herself in a hidden passageway leading to the Guards’ Room before the minute had passed. Before she knew it, Blake was pulling her through a large metal door that clanged when it shut. They were only left in the dark for a moment before Blake lit the oil lantern in the corner. The light flooded into the empty chamber of his bedroom. “These aren’t my chambers,” Clarke tried, hoarsely. “That’s because I’m not taking you to your chambers. It’s been compromised.” Blake guided her by the hand towards his bed, letting her fall into the stiff mattress. He held her at arm’s length and knelt on one knees before her. “Are you hurt?” Blake’s voice echoed in her mind. “Are you bleeding?” “There’s blood on my dress.” Blake looked the Queen up and down, ignoring her comment. He brought his hands to her face, slowly brushing her hair from her skin. He took her head in his hands, gently turning her to observe her injuries. Her neck was stiff, and a shallow cut tore through her forehead. His eyes trailed down to her neck, exploring the area for any wounds or bruises. He picked up each hand in his, examining them closely. “Your hand, Blake—“ She tried to point towards his bruised hand, beginning to swell like it was broken. She quickly came to realise that it was the hand he had shielded her head with. “It’s fine.” He turned her arm in his hands, and his eyes widened as he lay sight on the deep cut in her skin. “Does that hurt?” The Queen only shook her head mildly. Her bloodstained hair left dark red streaks on the back of her white dress as she moved. She was still in shock. “We’ll get that cleaned up very soon,” he promised. He kept her hand in his as he reached towards his bedside table, pulling a roll of knit gauze from its drawer. Clarke’s hand lay limp in his as she let him pinch the wound closed with his fingers as roughly wrap the bandage around her arm. She didn't seem to notice the pain. When he met her eye, she seemed dazed. Her confusion bore into his soul like a hot rod. Why am I here? she was asking him. “We have to move you to a safe location.” Blake let the Queen’s hands slowly drop to her lap as he stood. He reached into his bedside cabinet, pulling a long velvet cloak from its hangers. He had only used it once before; on her ascension day. The weight of the fabric comforted her as Blake began pulling duffel bags and stuffing them with materials. She didn't seem aware of his movements until he paced the length of the bedroom towards the door. “Where are you going?” He let the question fall away as he ripped open the door, shouting Reyes’ name out into the hall. The guard came running from her chamber, where she had been preparing to start her night rounds. “Dear God,” she whispered as she lay eyes on the Queen. Blake shut the door firmly behind her, not allowing her to process what must have happened before he began listing off instructions. Most of the words flew past Clarke’s head, but she did catch the odd phrase; “Winter safe house”; “Morning carriage”; “Leaving right now,” caught her attention. Reyes’ eyes shifted from her commander to her Queen as she nodded along to the plan. Bellamy lowered his voice as he let slip his final instruction before he let her go: “And Reyes? Don't tell a single soul.” Blake loaded her onto the front of his horse and rode. When the Queen Mother woke the next morning with a heavy heart and a somber feeling, no one would be able to tell her where her daughter had gone. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The Queen hadn’t argued with Blake when he lead her to the stables and walked past the royal cavalry horses. She hadn't argues with him as he strapped the supplies onto a plain mailboy’s horse and let her climb on first. She hadn't argued when he climbed on behind her, locking her into place with an arm around her waist to keep her steady. It was oddly offsetting. Blake kicked the horse onto the quietest route towards their safe-house for the night, clutching onto the Queen as he pondered on how to encourage her back into feeding him her unwarranted opinions. “Where — is — Clarke?!” The Queen Mother had been looking for her daughter since she had woken up from a fitful sleep over four hours ago. She had stormed the royal chambers of the monarch with her guards when no one could give her an answer; pushed towards the bloodstained stone of the patio outside; slammed into the stables to notice none of the horses missing. She fell to her knees in her bedroom, thinking back to the dreams that woke her hours past. Her daughter, struck red with blood, abandoned on the castle floors — she couldn't even bear to think of it. Reyes and Lincoln stayed by her side, watching Abby shout orders to the guards to find Clarke. Reyes knelt by the Queen Mother, trying to be consoling. “Blake must be with her, Your Majesty— have faith that he is. He will keep her safe.” Clarke noticed Blake’s arm tighten around her before every sharp turn the horse made, and how he pressed his chest into her back to keep her from falling every time they crossed rocky roads. His large physique enveloped her as they rode away from the castle, for hours she could not count. His hand — she was now sure it was broken — rested on her thigh, the reins tangled in his bleeding fingers as he tried both to navigate the steed and keep it from further injury. She knew Blake would have noticed the heavy silence; she couldn't bring herself to amend it. She didn't trust herself to speak; nor did she find the need to. Wherever he was taking her, she knew she could trust him to keep her safe. If she saw him direct their horse towards the edge of a battle camp, covered in enemy flags, she wouldn’t have batted an eye. They crossed dozens of small villages before they reached their destination. Blake had lifted the cloak’s hood to cover the Queen’s face when they got too close to a lakeside neighbourhood, but otherwise made no moves to adjust her seating. If his view of the roads were obstructed, he said nothing, and made accommodations around her. He tried his best not to startle her with sharp movements. He knew their fall had hurt her, and he couldn't even fathom her emotional hurt. When they’d last spoken, she seemed stunned, shocked. His gaze tended to shift towards her bloodstained skirts when they were riding down straight empty paths. The patterns had dried to a deep maroon, deepening as the time passed. With every painful tug on the reins or every sudden turn in the road, he found her breath sharpen, and she would huddle closer into him. He kept his hand at her side to keep her from slipping, but found that over the hours of riding it seemed to also serve a purpose of warmth to the Queen, despite the hiding sun. By the time they arrived at a stout home apartment in one of the least populated villages in Arkadia, she knew her newly acquired bruises from the castle assault had grown more sore by the slamming of their two bodies against one another on their long journey. The horse stopped obediently by a simple stable, where horses past had been tied and left for the night, a long stall of water left out for them to drink. Blake lead the horse towards a cubicle to rest for the night. Clarke accepted Blake’s hand as he helped her off the horse— wordlessly following him into the dimly lit home. She didn't know whose it was until he rapped on the door four times in something that resembled a tune, and the door swung open a few moments later. “Bellamy?” The dark-haired girl she had seen visiting his chambers stared at the Queen bleeding at the front door. Octavia looked up to her brother, not sure if she should land on anger or confusion. For now, her eyebrows raised only in concern. Her voice was hushed, but urgent, when she waved them inside, “Come in, come in!” Blake lead the Queen inside, guiding her with a hand shadowing her waist. “Is everything alright?” “It’s the only place I could bring her,” Blake tried to explain as his sister helped the Queen out of Blake’s accession cloak. She shook it out before hanging it in a nearby closet. She let Blake fix his himself; Clarke briefly wondered how he found time to become familiar with this home when he was always by her side. “It’s the only place no one in the guard or the palace know about.” Octavia didn't spare her brother a sideways glance as she kicked blankets and clothes away from Clarke’s path. “I understand, Bellamy— I just wish you would have given me a head’s up.” She turned to Clarke, falling into a quick curtesy as she waved her towards the living room sofa, like it was an afterthought. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the royal’s bruised skin for the first time. “What’s happened?” she demanded, shooting up to face her brother. Blake let his gaze fall to the Queen’s blood-soaked hemline. “There is an assassin in the castle— we have to move her to a secure location, which will only be ready by morning, Octavia— I had no choice—“ “Bellamy!” “I’m sorry if I pose as an inconvenience to you, Ms. Blake,” Clarke started, hyperaware of the inconvenience she was causing by invading the woman’s home. “No, please, Your Majesty. You are always welcome in this home.” Octavia tried to reassure her. If her face was any indication, Clarke did not seem so. “It’s just that—“ A loud cry tore through the the small home, startling the Queen. She turned to try and find the source, to find Octavia already rushing towards it. She disappeared into a faraway corner of the home, and reemerges with a tiny shrieking body. The small baby in her hands tossed in its blankets, clearly uncomfortable with the recent shouting. “Blake, we shouldn't have imposed—“ “No, please.” Octavia cut her off; Clarke didn't fail to notice, and began to wonder if it was the first time a subject had done such a thing. It was oddly refreshing not to be treated like she was made of eggshells. “Please, it would be my honour if you stayed with us tonight.” Blake shook his head at his sister’s words. “Octavia is an experienced nurse. She will also help see to your wounds where I cannot.” He stood beside his sister, carefully reaching over to take the crying infant from her hands. Clarke watched her family’s assassin as he pulled the child to his chest, gentle and caring in the wake of its wailing. She watched the pair silently as Octavia rushed towards her, eyes glued to the bloodied hands that fussed over baby blankets. “Majesty, come this way.” Octavia guided the Queen a nearby cabinet, not waiting to hear for a response. She kneels by it, pulling out towels and medical supplies. It would seem as though she were highly experienced in providing care to spontaneous arrivals of wounds in her home. Then again, she did have the Queen Mother’s personal guard for a husband. She pulled Clarke towards her living room, guiding her towards a sofa decorated in baby clothes fresh from launder. She implored the royal to sit, and kneeled beside her to examine her arm. Blake followed the two close behind, watching every move his sister made. “Perhaps you should tend to Sir Blake first,” Clarke suggested. Her eyes followed Blake’s hand, fallen limp by his side as he held Octavia’s child with the other. It had surpassed a reasonable swelling size; if they left it too long, it would never recover. “Please, Your Majesty— There will be time for me later.” “Blake, you mustn’t—“ “Ah, he’s fine,” Octavia waved him off. “Between you and me, he probably doesn't even notice it anymore.” Between Blake and himself, he very much did. Two snips of a tiny pair of scissors was all it took to rip away the sleeve of what had been Clarke’s engagement dress. Octavia let the blood-dried sleeve fall into her lap, and made quick work of removing Blake’s efforts at a rudimentary bandage. The skin of Clarke’s arm had split down the back, a lasting trauma from the blunt surface of the stone patio. She tried not to make a sound as Octavia examined the wound; Octavia didn’t notice, but Blake’s eyes had been trained on the Queen. “Are you alright?” He whispered. Clarke’s eyes met his, and she tried to smile off his concern. It wasn’t extremely convincing. Blake sidestepped his sister, kneeling on the ground to examine the wounds. He sat beside the Queen on the littered sofa. She felt his warmth radiate into her cold skin as he slowly laid the child in his arms across his lap, and rest his uninjured hand on her shoulder. “Just breathe in, deeply,” he coached her. “It helps with the pain.” Clarke followed his words, letting her chest fill with air. She let her unoccupied hand lay over his on her shoulder, and soon they were breathing in tandem, though shakily. Octavia only glanced in between them. She welcomed the distraction her brother gave to her patient, and willed her fingers to move faster before the effects wore off. She pulled out a flash of brandy from the medical bag and found her brother’s eyes for a quick warning before letting the liquid fall over the Queen’s arm. The unexpected fire in her veins made Clarke cry out in instinct. Her hand tightened around Blake’s like a reflex, turning both their hands into a light white. As the pain subsided, as did her grip. “You never do get used to that,” Blake muttered. He absentmindedly let his hand fall to her face, wiping away the first of the unwilling tears that had fallen onto her cheeks. When he came to notice his own actions, his fingers stilled against her cheek, and dropped by his side. He shook his head at himself and rose, lifting the baby to his shoulder. “I’m going to put him down for bed,” he whispered to his sister, who only hummed in affirmation. Octavia pinched Clarke’s skin together, making quick and nimble stitches at every quarter inch of the wound. The black thread struck out against her pale skin, devoid of warmth or blood. “Alright, that should hold.” Octavia carefully wrapped the treated area with clean bandages, and lead Clarke to the wash closet. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” She helped her strip of the red garments as they waited for the tub to fill. When Clarke stepped in, the water was colder than she’d ever had it. She tried to hide her discomfort, but Octavia didn't fail to notice her deep shudder upon touching the water. “Let me bring a candle for you, Majesty.” She was gone before Clarke could object. Clarke let herself sink into the shallow bath, watching the water slowly dye itself a shade of morbid pink as she dipped into it. She took a deep breath, a plunged her head underwater. The full weight of the evening came crashing down on her, and it felt like her heart was being crushed as collateral. She let the time tick by, and tried to hold her breath. She almost set herself free, curious to see what would happen if she let go — when a muffled knock came through the wash closet door. When she comes up for air, droplets run down her face, it takes a moment to realise that it wasn’t all bathwater. “What?” she snapped back, not entirely surprised when her voice wavers. She is surprised, however, when it is Blake’s voice that returns, instead of Octavia’s. “Are you alright? Octavia says she needs a moment more to find a match.” His voice carried a light tint of humour she was sure she hadn’t heard before. She suspected it was the effect the warm home was having over him; slowly transforming him from an officer of the palace to an ordinary villager of Arkadia. “I will be,” Clarke mutters back, hoping it was loud enough to hear. She hadn't the energy to raise her voice. She let her face crumple to conceal a new sob she knew was coming. She doesn't hear his footsteps depart. When Octavia swings open the door a few long minutes later, Clarke sees a flash of Blake’s silhouette in the doorway; back turned, and waiting. The glint of a weapon stowed in his back pocket did not go unnoticed. Octavia followed her gaze, and couldn't hide the soft grin that grazed her lips. She set fresh clothes on a counter, and lit a match to a new candle. The flickering of the flame danced against the stone walls. “Bellamy is really worried about you.” Clarke didn't say anything. Octavia helped the Queen sit up in the tub. With a rough bristle brush, she got to work on scrubbing off the day’s unfortunate events. The brush was harsh against Clarke’s skin, but she didn't say anything. Nothing could have hurt her as much as the loss she had suffered in the last day. Clarke let Octavia scrub away at her skin, letting the long minutes pass by in silence. She lowered her head into her knees, wishing the lasting overflow of terror to be gone. She falls into the easy rhythm of the bristles, washing the water turn darker shades of red as the time ticked by. It was only when Octavia’s hands came to an abrupt halt that she snapped back up, wondering what was wrong. “Bellamy said something of a fall; he didn't mention how bad it was.” Red and blue bruises dotted the Queen’s spine, illustrating the exact tiles she had been pushed onto that very evening. “A worthy trade for what could have happened. Blake saved my life.” “He tends to do that well,” Octavia mused. Lincoln had met with every palace guard on duty that night. Pike and Collins provided no help; Reyes insisted that she had been in her quarters, Bryan had been visiting Miller in his mourning home, and Murphy didn't follow much of the events after he got shot in the stomach. After speaking to out of the staff who had been awoken by the frightening sound of bullets, Lincoln could only come to one conclusion: Blake and the Queen were gone. Murphy didn't enjoy that conclusion. When Lincoln had confided in him about the thought, the injured guard tried to roll out of his cot to put on his clothes. “What do you think you’re doing, Murphy?” “They can’t be missing,” Murphy gasped, the newly sewn wound stretching with his movements. His gaze darkened, until Lincoln was a mere picture in a halo of black spots. “Get back into the bed, soldier.” Raven watched the two guards wrestle each other from the corner of the medical ward; if anyone had know better, the look on her face may have resembled guilt. She had left the Queen Mother in her quarters, frantic and desperate for information. Despite Abby’s distraught, Raven knew she couldn't defy the order she had received from her Sergeant. Don’t tell a soul; his words still rung in her ears. She signed and approached Lincoln, a curt note in her hand. “Lincoln — Her Majesty the Queen Mother sent down a message for you.” She held it out to him, and watched the confusion grow on his face as he read the words from the royal chambers. When Clarke emerged from the wash closet in a clean linen shift and soft cotton robe, Blake was still by the doorframe. “You didn’t have to wait.” “I needed to,” Blake assured her. “Are you feeling any better?” He looked her up and down, examining her for any remnants of injury. His fingers itched from keeping them from tucking the wet curls away from her face. Clarke only nodded. Blake passed her a soft smile and ducked into the bathroom, where his sister was emptying the tub and preparing for a second bath. Clarke caught Blake waving Octavia away, telling her he could take care of himself. She shushed him and told him to wait in the corner. She watched Octavia fuss over Blake’s injured arm, gingerly massaging the wrist and elevating the hand. She watched him flinch, possibly more gracefully than she had, when the alcohol hit his wounds. Octavia took to wrapping his hand from fingertip to elbow to keep it immobilised, and helped him remove his jacket and shirt after he insisted she didn't rip it. Something about palace property; Clarke tried to hide a snort at the thought of a castle tailor trying to tax Bellamy Blake for damaged clothing. She made her way to the smaller of the two bedrooms in the home. The dimly lit room boasted no more than a simple bed frame. The bags she vaguely recalled watching Blake pack sat neatly by its foot. She was intending to ignore them, when she spotted the suspicious tag: HRH QG. The initials of her formal title startled her, considering that the bags had been pulled from Blake’s own closet. Curious, she pulled the duffel bag with her title out of the bunch, and dumped its contents onto the bed. The glimmer of coins caught her eye first. A tied chiffon parcel of Arkadian monies and bills lay staring up at her; surely more than enough for emergency funds. Another parcel of chiffon had been tossed onto the sheets, holding rings and earrings she hadn't seen since her ascension. Pencils of kajol and palettes of rouge sat with it, with brushes and applicators. Documents in a file labelled “HRH Emergency” held her travel documents; some with her given name, and some with her face attached to a name she had never heard of. She suspected Blake would have his reasons for that. Another file listed code names for her father’s safe houses, vacation homes, and contact details for palace caretakers. A leather holster had been thrown into the far side of the bed; when Clarke unsheathed it, she found the knife she hadn't membered Sir Miller had gifted her as a child. The three stones of crystal had been dimmed with years of nonuse. The silver blade, however, had been newly polished. A beaded black dress and shoes were the last to fall out; it took Clarke a few more minutes to realise it was beaded to protect her from bullets. She didn’t know when Blake had managed to find the time to design her a bulletproof dress and pack her an emergency bag, especially one peppered with her personal belongings. All she knew was it made her even more indebted to him.Clarke tentatively unbuttoned the two other bags Blake had brought with them. Clothes and guns were stuffed in them to the brim, along with a medicine and bandages.When her mother had enlisted Blake to protect Clarke mere days after her King Jacob’s death, she hadn't expected him to do it with such devotion. He had been an army man all his life. To restrict his movements to inside the castle, by the Queen’s side at most times — it was fair to say that neither Queen nor Mother had thought he would execute his job to the level he was operating on. He took it as a personal life sentence, a loyalty beyond due diligence. Clarke repacked the three bags and hauled them to the bedside. The sheets beneath seemed to be calling to her; before she knew it she had snuck under the heavy duvet and fallen fast asleep. The first thing Lincoln noticed was an extra horse in his stables. He tied his own steed to a post, and pulled a knife from his belt. “Octavia,” he hissed, low and concerned. The second thing he noticed was the speckle of blood on the doorstep. The door hung slightly ajar — more so than usual. He pushed the door inwards silently, following the browned smudge of blood to his living room. “Octavia,” he called again, concern rising in his voice. First the Queen underwent an assassination attempt; then, his brother-in-law, Sergeant, and best friend went missing with her; he wasn't going to let the same happen with his family. He held the knife up as he approached the living room; to his surprise, he found the blood trail expanded onto the sofa. Bandages and his child’s clothes were equally tossed on the floor. The medical cabinet Octavia liked to keep was hanging open. Lincoln adjusted his grip on his weapon. From the far end of the home, he heard hushed voices. He slowly approached his own bedroom, pressing one ear against the door. The voices inside were urgent and unintelligible, and they seemed to be arguing. He pushed the left side of his body against it, ramming it open. The two faces of the Blake siblings looked up from the foot of the bed, surprised at his entrance. Octavia had Blake seated across the bed, working on cleaning the cut on his face. Lincoln was more shocked to see the both of them. “Bellamy—? Why is there blood —? The Queen —“ “She’s alright, Lincoln,” Octavia stood, making her way towards him, pressing a short kiss on his lips in greeting. “She’s resting in Bellamy’s room now, they've both had a very long night.” Lincoln looked in between Octavia and her brother. “It was the only place I could take her, Link,” Blake explained. “The attack tonight was brutal.” “No, of course,” he assured. “Always welcome, brother.” Lincoln gave a quick nod to the Sergeant and turned to run a bath. Octavia turned to her brother, now silent on her bed. “Do you want dinner?” When Clarke woke a few hours after she had unwittingly fallen asleep in the foreign bed, it was to the fussing from the crib she hadn't noticed was in the room. She approached the crib cautiously, hoping she hadn't woken the baby. In it, she found the child of Lincoln and Octavia, staring up at her with round green eyes. “Hello there, darling.” Clarke reached one finger into the crib, letting the child grasp it with his whole hand. “Aren’t you just precious?”“I see you've met Jacob.” Blake’s voice from the doorway startled her; her arm fell back into the crib’s side. A pain she had grown familiar with pooled in her chest. Jacob. “I didn't mean to startle you, your Majesty; I wanted to check how you were doing.” Blake entered the room and gently shut the door behind him. Judging by the darkness of the halls outside, the Lincolns had taken their leave for sleep. “I still… can’t grasp what happened today... it all feels like a strange dream,” Clarke admitted, focusing her gaze back on Jacob. “We hadn't known Sir Lincoln had welcomed a new child. My mother and I would have sent a gift if we did. He has been quite the vital part in my mother’s guard.” Blake nodded slowly, “It was a difficult time in the castle. The child is no more than three months old.” Clarke understood; the child had been born close to her father’s assassination. “Would you like to hold him?” Blake’s question caught her by surprise. Hesitant, her gaze stole back to the child in the crib. His green eyes shone up at her, joyous to meet hers. She let slip a soft, motivated smile. “I would love to.” Blake passed her an odd expression; perhaps it was a smile, she couldn’t tell. He didn't have much of those to go around. He reached into the crib and scooped up little Jacob in his uninjured arm with an ease she could not have imagined possible when handling a child so delicate. Wordlessly, he motioned for the Queen to come around the crib to stand beside him. The baby’s eyes blinked slowly, as though attempting to memorise the new face. He was quite the curious little thing. “I can’t say I’ve had the opportunity to hold a child this young,” Clarke whispered, close to Blake’s ear as he passed the baby on to her. The child seemed as though he were about to cry out, but quickly settled in Clarke’s arms. She rocked him back ever so slightly, and let the baby grip onto a strand of her hair. “You’re a natural,” Blake assured her. The darkness masked his gaze; but not her glow as little Jacob tugged on her free curl. “Here, let me…” Blake edged towards her to gently pull the baby’s hands from the Queen’s hair. Clarke met his eye with a soft smile, letting him tuck away the strand behind her ear. The motion revealed the scrape on her forehead she had received many long hours ago. His fingers lingered at the beginnings of a scar. “I wish today had gone better,” he muttered, just enough so she could hear. She felt the whisper of his words against her ear. She couldn't bring herself to introduce propriety into the conversation. “We’re both standing here.” “I should have been there, at least.” Closer yet, he came. His words tickled her lips. “You did what you could. You saved my life,” she whispered her words, edging towards him. She shared his breath in every word she spoke, letting the words ring back in his ears as her lips grazed his. His breath hitched as she neared him ever still; his hand flexed by his side. The child in Clarke’s arms took the moment of hesitation to let out a loud cry. As though suddenly remembering himself, Blake stumbled backwards, nearby walking into his nephew’s crib. Clarke tried to calm the child down, rocking him in her arms. She readjusted her grip on the baby’s blankets, hoping to alleviate any discomfort. A loud knock at the door pulled both their attention from Jacob. Lincoln entered the room, eyes meeting the Queen’s. He gave a quick bow, approaching to soothe his child. “Thank you, Majesty.” He took Jacob in his arms, and Clarke’s fell to her side, feeling empty. “Thank you for letting me stay in your home, Sir Lincoln.” If Clarke’s voice came out somewhat raspy, Lincoln didn't mention it. The guard only nodded once in grace. “It is an honour we are proud to bear, Your Majesty.” He looked between the Queen and his brother-in-law, before finally turning to his bedroom. He stopped by the door to close it, only turning back once to address the Queen. “You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, My Queen. Best get some rest." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The new morning was hard for them both. When the Queen woke in what she had come to learn was Blake’s bed only a few short hours since she had turned to sleep, it was to the sound of Octavia’s roosters. Her eyes opened pre-dawn, and couldn't seem to close thereafter. She listened to the ruckus of the home as Lincoln prepared to head back to the castle, to be by her mother’s side. She opened her tired eyes to find Blake in the corner of the room, boots on, and ready. Only, he was asleep, sat in the corner of his own bedroom with a knife in his hand. Clarke tried her best not to wake him as she stood, but it seemed as though he were a lighter sleeper than she. His hair was in disarray, more so than she had ever seen it. He ran his fingers through it as though he could hear her thoughts. They only glanced at each other in acknowledgement of the events of the past evening, and let the questions fall away into silent recognition. All was as though it had never happened. “Feeling any better this morning?” The question startled Blake; still unused to receiving concern over his health, he only nodded. “Can’t complain —Have your stitches been giving you any trouble?” The arm in question rose to Clarke’s sightline. Despite the stitches sending individual waves of pain up her arm, she turned to him and gave him a humoured grin. “Can’t complain.” The two fell into a simple rhythm of tidying the room they had spent the night in. Octavia stopped by to drop off a new dress for Clarke to wear, backing away from the room when light argument erupted over paying her back for her hospitality. She left with the light reminder that breakfast was to be served before they left— and payment was not an option. “I’ll let you change—“ Blake started for the door. “Nonsense. You finish up in here, I won’t be a moment.” Clarke navigated her way through the humble home into the wash closet she had first been acquainted with in her visit to the Blake-Lincoln home. She helped herself out of the borrowed nightgown Octavia had lent her, folding it neatly and setting aside. The new dress, a simple cotton black, lay before her, spread across the counter. Taking a shaky breath, she turned away from it, and towards the large reflective glass she knew stood behind her. Her naked skin stood out before she sought it out. The red, blue, and black lines stretched across her canvas of a back, beyond the waistlines of her garments. Upon her attempt to soothe it by touch, the lines only flared up in pain. She hissed slowly and retracted her fingers from her bruised skin. She pushed her hair out of her face, to better glimpse the scrape on her forehead. Her curls still carried a twinge of pink; dyed with the remnants of the night’s events. A daze of blood crossed her memory. It appeared like a flash, and disappeared just as such. Murphy and Wells stood out to her, abandoned on the patio where she had left them. Guilt tested in her belly. It brewed a strange concoction, next to a familiar sorrow and a new sensation she hadn't quite gotten used to yet. Clarke lowered the tips of her hair into a wash bucket, slowly allowing water leftover from the night before to pour overtop. The wash was cold, but she welcomed its sobering effects. A lather and a rinse was all it took to wipe the horrid memory from her hair. She wrung her hair dry before fitting herself into the loaned dress. Made of a black cotton, the hem ran past her ankle, but did not touch the floor. Unlike the tailored garments she was used to wearing, the dress did not offer a lining, and the thin material scratched her arms at every joint. Nonetheless, it was Clarke’s most appreciated dress of all she’d ever worn, because it was given to her of no obligation further than kindness. She turned back towards the glass to help her pin each button closed. She got to halfway up the corset when she found that her arms were simply not up to completing the task themselves. Her injured arm ached with the effort, and every movement her shoulders made seemed to aggravate her bruises even further. After numerous attempts, she sighed in concession, and exited the wash closet to find Octavia. “Octavia?” she called into the dimly lit home. The sun was beginning to shoot the beginnings of light in through the windows, giving the home a soft glow. Clarke knocked at her host’s door lightly, hoping to find her within the room. “Octavia, could I disturb you a moment?” “What’s the matter?” Blake’s voice from the adjacent room made her start in her place as he moved to meet her in the hall. “Octavia’s with the baby— did you need something?” “Oh,” Clarke muttered. “It’s not urgent.” “Never mind, Your Majesty. What was it you needed?” Clarke let slip a sheepish chuckle, “It’s just, um— the buttons on this dress.” She turned to show her back to Blake. “Could you help me with them?” A long moment of silence stretched between the pair. For all the eloquence Blake was used to from the Queen, her latest request did not seem to fall in line with her regular behaviour. He felt the same flicker in his throat as he had the night before, noting that it was likely that her mind had been in the same place. “Of course.” His voice was hoarse, but she did not acknowledge it. He closed the space between them in an easy stride. “May I…?” He gestured towards her hair, and she nodded. He draped it over her shoulder, allowing him a working view of the misbehaving buttons. While he tried to maintain his gaze on the soft cotton nubs that made up the buttons of the dress, he found that her bruises distracted him. His uninjured hand hovered gently over the thick coloured lines, tracing them down the sovereign’s spine. He remembered the thud of their fall the night before, but hadn’t thought she had been as badly impacted by the stone as she had been. Blake cleared his throat. “You should have said something.” Clarke spared him a sideways glance. She felt his breath tickle the back of her neck. Her tone was low when she responded, “You did what you had to do.” He nodded slowly, following the trail of blue back up to the base of her neck. He let his thumb graze over the streak, hoping he wasn't overstepping his boundary. The Queen’s eyes shut lightly as the touch sent a dull ache down her spine, but otherwise remained still. Sensation pooled in her stomach, and wondered what the odd emotion was. “Should heal up in no time,” he noted. He let his hand drop to the base of the corset, trying not to fumble with the buttons. He started at the bottom and made his way up, slowly but surely sealing up the canvas of her back. When he returned back to the room to collect their belongings, she followed him shortly behind and cleared her throat. “Schedule,” Clarke requested. She refused to let lust overtake the vitality of their long journey. “Reyes will come by with a plain carriage,” Blake began, “It should arrive by daybreak, and then we will ride to the Winter safehouse.” Clarke nodded in understanding. She was always a fan of her father’s Winter Mansion. She turned to find a match in the bedside drawer. “How many nights will I stay there?” Blake fell silent, instead turning to gather their bags, set by the bedside. “Blake?” He still refused to meet her eye. “We will keep you safe there until it is appropriate to return to the castle.” She lit the lantern on a nearby coffee table and let the box of matches drop onto it. “Meaning?” “Until we are sure the Mountain Men are securely taken care of.” If Blake had noticed the appalled look on Clarke’s face, he made no move to acknowledge it. “That could be months!” The sky outside was beginning to turn red. “All due respect, Your Majesty, I told you I would not let you die in that castle.” “The people will panic, I cannot let them fear for their lives in their own homes.” “A little chaos never hurt anyone,” he scoffed. “Blake,” the Queen fumed. “What does it say that less than four months into my rule, I cause panic in my country. I’ve already lost my court— I have to keep up appearances—“ “I will not stand for appearances when your life was— and is— in very imminent danger!” Blake snapped. He took a shaky breath, remembered himself and added, “Your Majesty.” The silence that followed the outburst was thick; hugging the air while the two turned to make their individual preparations for their journey, fuming. When Octavia called them for breakfast a few moments later, he let Clarke exit the room before him with a shallow bow, but made no move to apologize. They sat across from each other at the dinner table, but neither met the other’s eye. Octavia could not help looking between the Queen and her guard; the yelling had been heard from across the house. Despite her efforts to lighten the mood and many offerings of tea, the tension did not seem to dissipate. It was only when they heard the sharp knock at the door did the Queen and her knight look at each other again. The understanding in the stare was clear; it was time to go, and time to say goodbye. Indefinitely. Blake stood to get the door, leaving the Queen some time alone with his sister. “Octavia—“ “Your Majesty,” Octavia softly interrupted. “There is no need.” Clarke let her new friend bow shortly before her, before bringing her into a hold. “I promised many friends before that they would never have to bow before me again. Neither should you.” She let herself sink into the embrace, before finally letting her go. When she released her, Clarke found a smile across Octavia’s face. “It was an honour to host you, My Queen. I hope I will get the opportunity to do so again, under better circumstances.” “The honour will be mine,” Clarke assured. “I will not forget your kindness.” Outside, Blake approached Reyes and Bryan. They climbed off their horses, and acknowledged Blake with a stiff salute. Blake returned it curtly, but was already moving to the carriage. “You’re late, Reyes,” he approached. “First light means first light.” “Sir Lincoln had some words, Sir,” Reyes allowed, in good nature. Blake scoffed to himself. He introduced himself to the carriage driver, and dismissed him with the borrowed horse from the night before. It was only when the man had departed that he allowed himself to calm. All was on track, he reminded himself. He let himself back into the house to collect his and Her Majesty’s belongings in a fell swoop. Blake stepped back into the dining hall, knocking curtly on the concrete wall. He met his sister’s eyes, and the soft smile she allowed past the single tear that fell from her face. “We have to get going.” Clarke turned back to the front of the house, steadfast in her movement. She had said her goodbyes. It was his turn. Blake let the bags fall to his feet as he welcomed his sister into his arms. “Please, please, take care of yourself,” Octavia begged. Her voice came muffled from beneath his hold. “I can’t afford to lose you, Bellamy.” “I will, I promise.” Her face emerged from his hold, and she met his gaze. “And her, too.” “Octavia, it is my job— “ “I’m serious!” Octavia hissed back. “She is this kingdom’s closest hope to permanent peace. She is a good queen, and an even better person. You do not let anything happen to her.” When Blake professed his promise, Octavia knew it was the most sincere thing he had ever said. Clarke let Blake cross the threshold of the home before her; she wanted a simple moment more to soak in the warmth and kindness she had experienced at the house. She had a strange feeling that she would need to keep it in her reserves. She watched Blake wordlessly load the baggage into the carriage and prepare it for travel. Reyes approached the Queen, and bent in a deep bow. “Your Majesty, we are ready for you.” “Thank you, Reyes — for everything.” She only bowed again. “My Queen.” She followed Clarke from the house, and lead her to a set of stairs to board the carriage. Clarke watched Blake at the sidelines, making his preparations and barking his orders. He was beginning to hoist himself onto the driving steed when the queen made her views clear. “I certainly hope you will not be riding up front,” Clarke called, seemingly to no one in particular. Blake, however, knew who was being addressed. “That was the plan.” The sourness of their earlier dispute still hung in his voice, dripping with ice. “With that hand of yours, I’m surprised that it is.” She shuffled further into the carriage. “There’s more than enough space in the carriage, dare I say it— seeing as you’re not one to hold up appearances.” Reyes looked between the two curiously, squinting against the newly arisen sun. She chose to hold her tongue, but let her thoughts run free. Had they had an argument? Or were they concealing the fact that they had finally gotten around to doing something the entire palace thought they were doing anyways? She shrugged off the question, and hiked into the carriage beside Her Majesty. Blake started, “Your Majesty— “ “Sir Bryan,” Clarke interrupted. The soldier turned and saluted in a swift gesture. “Are you aware of the journey’s path we are about to take?” Bryan looked between his superior officer and his living monarch. He spoke slowly, eyes trained on his lieutenant, but facing his ruler. “Yes, my Queen.” Clarke only looked back at Blake with a steel gaze. “Then it is settled.” Before Blake could press any further, she added. “Definitively.” Reyes tipped her head to her commander as he pulled himself into the carriage. He shot her a sharp look, and waved it off as he took his place beside his queen. The carriage started just as Blake slammed the door closed. The ride was longer than any other carriage ride Clarke had sat through since she was around five years old. The only difference between that time and the one was Clarke’s ability to keep from turning green over the long hours. Blake first noticed it when her eyes shut with every hard jerk the carriage made. Then it was the way her hands clenched around her skirts as the horses took their sharp turns through the villages. Her breath began to hitch with every swerve through the back roads of the kingdom, and he began to feel the heat radiate through her skin. He spared her a side glance, checking in on her complexion. She seemed pale. “Close your eyes,” He grumbled, low enough to keep Reyes concentrated on cleaning her pistols. When she didn't answer, he let his cold hand rest over her clenched fingers. When Reyes’s eyes flicked over to the two, she didn't bring attention to herself. They were fools for thinking she couldn’t see it. “It’s only a few hours more,” Blake assured, letting the tension of their last conversation fall. “You should try to sleep.” Clarke only shifted in her seat silently. When he got a chance to look at her, he saw her heed his suggestion. The road grew more twisted and perilous. The short hours of sleep he had gained the night before were catching up to him, and he knew the road was long. He let himself take his own advice and closed his eyes for the journey. The sudden halt of the carriage brought Blake back from his sleep. A heavy weight on his shoulder forced his gaze down onto the Queen, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted, dozing on his shoulder. He only noticed his head lay over hers when he moved to face Reyes. He was only mildly surprised when he caught a glimpse of humour across her lips. “Where are we?” His voice was hoarse, scratching his throat. He cleared it as he slowly uncrossed his arms from across his chest. “We’ve arrived,” Reyes assured. She pulled the blinds away from the small window in the carriage door. The sun hung high in the sky, and burned Blake’s eyes. The white marble of the Winter safehouse only highlighted the shine of the beautiful day. Sir Bryan pulled the door open, letting the cold air in, and Reyes out. Blake signalled that they would join him in a moment, and let the door close before the turned to the Queen, still sound on his shoulder. “My Queen,” he whispered, bringing a light graze to push the hair from her face. “Hey, wake up.” “…whadyoujuscallme…” “Wake up, Your Majesty,” Blake whispered again, letting slip a soft chuckle. When Clarke’s eyes opened, heavy with sleep, she was sure she had dreamt the joy that was his laugh; while his face loomed over hers even closer than it had been last night, it was the face of the same stone-cold Blake that she was used to seeing. “We’re here.” Bryan helped the Queen out of her carriage while Reyes unloaded what little luggage they had. Blake took this time to introduce himself as the new security director to the awaiting house staff. Clarke let herself look around the residence that she only remembered seeing in her parents’ bedroom portraits. The only one with her in them was from when she was barely larger than a watermelon, comfortable in a swaddle of her mother’s arms and blankets. Her simple dress contrasted the royalty of the palace to such extent it seemed as though the staff were becoming offended. Before she had the opportunity to introduce herself, a lady Clarke assumed would be her new handmaiden ushered her away from the carriage, and into the King’s Quarters. The fresh breeze of the mountain air against the marble soared through the open layout of the palace, swaying through the sky-high pillars of gold. Clarke found it bringing life back into her lungs. As the handmaiden lead the Queen through the twisting maze of the Winter safe house, Clarke couldn’t help but wonder if Blake would be able to find her afterwards. She was lead deeper into the castle— a residence she could never imagine herself learning before it was time to return to the main palace she called home. “It is okay, my lady.” The handmaiden assured. “I served your mother before you, you are in good hands.” She came to a stop ahead of large marble doors that reached for the sky. The two guards, adorned in a contrasting red to the white walls, let her pass with the Queen as soon as they met eyes with the handmaiden. “My name is Vera, Ma’am.” Clarke stopped in her tracks, meeting the woman’s eyes fully for the first time. “Vera? Vera Kane? Mother to my advisor?” “Marcus has always been more interested in politics than myself, Ma’am,” Vera offered, as though it were an explanation. “Please, this way.” Vera lead Clarke into a large chamber, one she didn't doubt her parents had stayed in on many occasions. The attached bathhouse presented an already-heated bath for her, with a fresh gown awaiting it by its side. “Does Sir Blake know where we are? I wouldn't want him to worry—“ “Nonsense, child. He has made these preparations for you in advance.” “…Of course he has.” Clarke let Vera pull the buttons of the cotton corset away, and pull the fabric from her Queen’s form. She had likely caught a right glimpse at the royal’s injuries, but forwent on commenting. The heat of the bathwater seemed to ease muscles in Clarke’s body that she hadn’t realised ached in the first place. The long ride had forced a rough stiffness to her bones that brought a crack of her joints as she sank into the deep tub. She kept her arms elevated and her stitches above water. When Vera insisted on a full bath treatment, Clarke let her wait outside as she lay in the hot bath. She needed her time to think. If she was going to be stuck inside a new palace for an undetermined length of time, she was going to make the best of it. The Queen emerged from the bathhouse with her locks dripping onto the marble floors, dampening the evening gown she had dressed herself in. Vera looked stunned that the Queen hadn't beckoned for her dressing services, but did not make her confusion known as Clarke beckoned for her assist with lacing up. Vera knew her charge would not be like her predecessors. The navy blue gown was one Clarke remembered her mother wearing at family dinners;— it was simple, and still elegant. The sheen of the silk followed her silhouette; the prolonged neckline fell to her navel, illustrating her pale skin with light tulle that bridged the gap between her collarbones. The full skirt fell behind Clarke as she made herself familiar with her new quarters. Her few belongings had already been brought to her chambers, and new security staff were situated at her door and balcony. “I need to speak with Sir Blake,” Clarke addressed the handmaiden. “Please arrange for him to meet me here within the hour.” “Of course, Majesty.” Vera bowed upon her exit, leaving Clarke alone in her parents’ bedroom. Looking around, she could see it as none other than her parents’, though she supposed it had been a generational chamber for her family lineage. She pulled herself up onto the bed frame, wondering if mother had intentionally commissioned for identical canopy to be made for all the royal palaces. Before she knew what she was doing, she had grabbed the cloth from its hinges and ripped it down. She heard her father’s humorous words in her head, saying he would deal with her mother’s love for bed fashion if that was what would keep her by his side. She vaguely remembered him saying how much he hated sleeping under a canopy. She threw the silk sheet to the ground, moving to the portrait above the bed. She kicked embroidered pillows from her path as she made quick strides across the bed to meet the figures eye-to-eye. The youth of her father stood out to her; his smile etched into her mind. She hadn't realised how much she had missed him until then. There was a sharp knock on the door, followed by the guard announcing Sir Blake’s request to enter. "Sir Blake to see the Queen!" “Come in!” she called. Blake entered stiffly; it was only when he looked up at her that he let his face fall into confusion, making no effort to hide the disregard he had for the Queen’s position. Her hair was dripping onto the bedclothes and her dress; she stood barefoot on the mattress, and the canopy lay dejected on the ground. He offered her his hand, and allowed her to take it to step down from the bed. “Redecorating?” He sounded amused. "Only because I must," she joked. "These colours." She let her features feign disgust, and he smiled. Clarke regarded Blake with stiff admiration; it was only yesterday that she had fallen apart in his arms— only that morning that she had felt his breath against her lips as he whispered soft assurances into her ear — but it felt like a misty haze of months. Now he approached her with silent understanding; that they were moving on as though it had never happened. He seemed better put together than she was; since their arrival only a short hour ago, he had bathed and changed into more regal attire. He had taken more effort into drying his hair than she. She did not fail to notice that seeing him in his guards’ uniform in juxtaposition to spending a long night of living in his home sent rogue thoughts floating through her mind. She made like Blake and willed herself to move away from such thoughts. “I have come to terms with my stay here,” she started, gingerly approaching the topic. “But I have conditions.” “As I supposed you would, Your Majesty.” Clarke let him sit at a grandfather chair beside the bed, and made herself comfortable in the other. “I want to know everything that is happening in the castle, with my people, and in regards to the security threat back home.” Blake only nodded as he let her continue. “I do not want to be kept in the dark; I want to sit in for every update, I want my mother moved from the castle, and I want all my subjects’ letters to be rerouted to the Winter Mansion.” When she met his eye, he seemed upset. “In my absence, Marcus Kane will deal with castle affairs and daily operations; I just want to have my subjects’ hear from me as though I were still in the castle. They are still my people, and I will not leave them stranded without light.” Blake took a shallow sigh. “I will find a way to make that possible,” he promised. “Anything else?” “Yes — You have to teach me to how to fight.” The two spent the remainder of the day laying out plans in her chambers. The maids came in to tidy the roughhousing Clarke had conducted with the canopy, but neither Blake nor Clarke noticed much. Two butlers knocked to request access to lay down lunch, which Vera did not allow the Queen to reject. When they were all gone, Blake left to find the files he had stored in his bags the day they had left the palace. Clarke took the moment of silence to rest her back. In the many hours that they had spent conversing over the new security plans, Clarke had found the study chair her father had kept in the room to be quite uncomfortable against her recent injuries. She hadn't failed to notice the sun beginning to dawn, turning the sky above the mansion a light orange. Vera knocked on her door timidly, requesting entry. "Come in!" Clarke called. "My lady, apologies for the intrusion." Vera started. "But I was wondering if you would like to take a moment away for dinner?"Clarke gave the lady a small smile. "A marvellous idea. Please see to it that a plate is also brought up for Sir Blake." Vera cocked her head at the Queen, curious. "Perhaps you would prefer to dine in the Atrium, Your Majesty?" "No, unfortunately Blake and I have vital matters to attend to. We will dine in these very quarters." Clarke took Vera's following hesitation as a notice of confusion. Perhaps she was aware that these things were simply just not done, but the Queen couldn't find the energy to begin that conversation. The handmaiden seemed aware of this, and left it at a shallow bow. "Of course, Ma'am. Is there anything else you will be needing tonight?""If you wouldn't mind preparing my nightclothes, Vera, that would be much appreciated." The request only seemed to fuel Vera's concern, and Clarke could see the hesitation written all over her handmaiden's face. She let a soft smile grace her lips. "Sir Blake is a gentleman, you needn't worry." "Your Majesty, the visuals.""You will have the staff know that gossiping in ill will about their sovereign can be noted as conspiracy, yes? We have important matters to tend to, there is no time to spare for visuals." Vera bowed, this time deeply. "Of course." She left the room to make preparations for her charge, and crossed paths with Blake in the hallway. "Sir," she bowed her head, but Blake did not fail to notice the crimson tone of her cheeks. He raised his hand to knock on the Queen's door, and gave it a soft rap. The guards at her door announced him, a loud call of "Sir Blake to see the Queen!" Blake cleared his throat at his piercing voice. "Perhaps there is no need for that every time. Surely she will tire of the reminder that I will be her only visitor henceforth." The guard nodded. "Sir." "Let him in!" The Queen's order came from within the chamber. Blake approached the room, surprised to find Clarke sprawled across her bedspread, her eyes shut. He only cleared his throat to bring her attention to him. "It's been a long day, Blake." She let her requirement for eloquence fall at his feet. Clarke shuffled onto one side of the bed, making room and slapping the space beside her. "Sit."He let himself approach the bed, tentatively letting the documents he held fall onto the mattress. When she didn't retract her statement, he slid onto the bed beside them, and maintained his distance. He kept to the foot of the bed, away from her head. Blake regarded the situation with polarising arguments; he wondered of the propriety of her welcome into her chambers, but also held steadfast in his Queen's pure will. He reminded himself that they had sat as such in the past to no surprises, but also that the situation had occurred previous to their near-miss the night before. "We can proceed after dinner. Vera is bringing it up now."Blake let his eyes fall over her resting form; catching the sunset through the mesmerising stained glass of the balcony. The shades light coloured the room around them, reflecting on the furniture at varying angles as the sun went down. With every inquisition posed by the Queen, Blake would look to her only to be stunned by the new colour that lit up her face; at first it was the pink of the roses that painted her hair, and then it was the blue of the sea, the greens of the gardens, and the orange of embers.When dusk fell, he almost grew disappointed, but alas, he could never bring himself to feel disappointed whenever he looked at her. At times he had to remind himself of his propriety when it came to the Queen. He would try to think back to the mere weeks before this one, where every word she delivered was agonisingly dull. Now, he regarded her only with fascination with the words that flowed from her mouth. She had surprised him with every turn over the few days that had passed, witnessing every horrid consequence that had unwittingly befallen her. Images of blood platter and tear stains flooded his memory, until he allowed himself to calm by reminding himself that she was safe, and that she was here beside him. He had found himself thinking of their closeness that early morning in Octavia's home. The fleeting memory was the last to fly through his mind's eye. Her gravity had surrounded him, pulling him back into her orbit with every glance her passed her way. He had given it a taste, letting his barricades fall when he had passed her his sister's child; he knew she had seen it. Clarke had a way of accessing the darkest, most hidden files he kept hidden away in his chest, and for the first time since he had entered the castle as a youth, he didn't mind it. Instead, he yearned for it, in a way he hadn't expected himself to. It was new— the ability to be seen. Still, he knew he had to be careful. "How are your injuries treating you, Your Majesty?" "Can't complain." Clarke chuckled. "You don't have to call me that."Blake cocked his head at her as her eyes opened to peer at him. "Pardon?"The Queen only laughed again, and sat upright to face him. "I'm sure you've noticed, Blake, that we will be here a long time. Far away from the castle, and far away from the construct of royalty. I tell my friends that they needn't address me by my royal title, and you have done significantly more for me than any of my friends."He only nodded, not sure of what to say. "Let me introduce myself." The Queen stuck her hand out to him. "My name is Clarke." Blake looked between her and her outstretched arm. Reluctantly, he took it in his and gave it a light shake. "Bellamy." "Hm, Bellamy." She let the name play across her tongue, and he revelled in the way she said it. "It's nice to meet you, Bellamy." Shit. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The first few weeks without the Queen in the castle were more hectic than Blake had planned for. He was receiving letter after another regarding the sullen state of affairs in the royal home— and his newest promise to the Queen meant that he was obligated to share every piece of bad news with her. The nobility had withdrawn from the castle; Kane and the Queen Mother were left alone on the advisory board. It may have been high treason, but the families argued that if the reigning monarch could escape the castle, so could they. The people heard only rumours of the incidents inside the royal palace— one favourable tale was that the Queen was shot dead beside her new fiancee, leaving no one to take up responsibility of the throne. Another boasted knowledge that a sickly Clarke had been taken into the safety of the impregnable mountains, where she would spend the rest of her days under medical supervision. No one knew the truth, not even the Queen Mother. Kane knew it was for the best, but Abby did not want to accept it. As promised, Blake had found a way to have the letters delivered to Clarke in the safehouse; the bundle of mail arrived every Sunday with the new fleet of guards, rotated every week. The delay in responses only fuelled the rumours of the Queen’s ill-health. In reality, Clarke felt the most refreshed she had all year. She had set up a daily routine to keep herself busy on the long dull days that were ahead of her. The first few months consisted of daily security planning behind locked doors and with hushed voices. She and Blake spent the first hours of every morning locked away in the study near the royal chambers, choosing their favoured guards for the week ahead. Over the long days, they had formulated a stable plan to weed out the Mountain Men from the castle. Clarke would then retreat into the library, to write back to her concerned subjects. She would dodge their questions of her whereabouts, sometimes even insisting that she was still in the palace— to no avail. The letters poured evermore, insisting they knew how sick she was and where she had disappeared to. When it would become too repetitive, she would retreat to an old rocking chair near the desk, where she could vaguely remember her father holding her as a child until she slept. There, she would surround herself with her father’s favourite books, read and re-read them until the words were engraved into her mind. She could hear King Jacob’s voice with every written word she read. Sometimes, she would sit in silence and cry for his untimely loss. When the days were particularly dark, she would shed tears for the one she missed the most— her dear friend Gina. The first few weeks of their stay were particularly antagonising for Clarke as she pondered the state of her new friend, Murphy. He had taken a bullet to the stomach for her, and last she’d seen him, he was fighting to keep off the brink of death as she was forced to flee the castle. “Any word on Murphy?” Clarke would ask the guards as they came marching in at the start of every week. Each time, they would shake their head in apology. Blake quickly caught on to the Queen’s distress regarding the knight, and sent word for updates from the castle— to be delivered at the earliest possible opportunity. Reyes had once sat down with her to ensure her that Murphy had been alive, kicking, and bickering when she had last seen him— and that despite their current state of opacity to his situation, she was sure that Murphy hadn't kicked the bucket just yet. Reyes was the only constant in the Queens’ Guard, other than Blake. The knight escorted her Queen to all of her hideaway spots in the new home, and often became the only witness to her sorrow. The two became comfortable acquaintances with the silent but meaningful time they spent together. Blake kept his distance for all matters that did not regard his security background; if there was anything he knew about the staff at the Winter Mansion, it was that they filled their boredom with gossip. He would have preferred to keep the Queen’s name out of their mouth, so he restricted his time with her to their daily meetings, and nightly practice. As she had made him promise, he taught her the basics of combat. When they had just arrived, Blake had insisted that she heal up before he showed her into a training room. Words were heard from across the halls as they argued the term, until she finally conceded. He would bring Reyes with him to check Her Majesty’s wounds twice a week, and enlisted Vera’s expertise in changing the bandages. When he received Reyes’s go-ahead, he took Clarke to the training rooms for the first time. Blake knocked on the Queen’s door in a swift motion. The guards flanked at the door had long forgone announcing him in the weeks they had already spent there. He was surprised when she opened her own door, still dressed in her gown from the day that had passed. “Surely you don’t expect to be fighting in that thing?” Blake mused. Their relationship had grown more comfortable in the weeks that had passed, and he oft forwent formality in greeting her every day. “Well, what’s wrong with it? It’s what I would be wearing at any time.” Blake shook his head. While she did make a point, combat would be a hard skill to master if she had a ballgown weighing her down. He grabbed her by the hand and turned on his heels before she could argue, taking her across the hall. She hadn’t realised that his own chambers lay only feet away from hers. Blake elbowed the doors of his chambers open and ducked inside, letting her wait by the door. Clarke was surprised to see that he had made the regal room more humble with the removal of the family portraits and the replacement of most furniture. She didn’t have much more time to observe the room before he returned, handing her a handful of black cargo clothing that smelled like him. She recognised it as his army uniform; his name was embroidered onto the right sleeve in a faded white. “That is a tactical suit. You can keep it for as long as we’re training.” “Thanks,” she muttered, turning slowly back into her room to change. He waited patiently for her to reemerge before escorting her into the lower grounds of the safehouse. He did not fail to notice that she had strapped the knife he had brought with them to her leg, just as she used to in the castle. The two passed numerous rooms that Clarke had not yet had the opportunity to explore. The Winter Mansion was detailed with extra-ordinate marble design that she was still far from memorising, despite her ability to see her family’s influence in the furbishments. Blake took her down a twisted maze of staircases hidden behind walls. Nobody of her stature was ever meant to walk these halls, but there she tread, shattering the status quo laid down by millennia of Griffins before her. He stopped at a door, identical to all the others. He seemed hesitant to speak, but when he did, it was words that she had not expected to hear from him. “Before we get started, I need to set some ground rules.” Despite his words, he paused, awaiting her permit of his proposition. Clarke cocked her head at him. “Alright then.” “Combat is not an easy art to begin learning. My methods may be odd, but they are effective.” He said. Clarke nodded, remembering that he had trained many of her most trusted guards, including Miller the junior and Reyes. “We practice every day— I know this sounds like an easy arrangement, but you’ll see what I mean tomorrow. Despite this, yet most importantly: I want you let me know if you are hurt. And we have to stop.” Clarke nodded along with him, considering his words. “Deal.” Blake released a sigh of relief, letting his tensed shoulders fall. “Do you trust me?” The Queen scoffed, a grin gracing her lips— but her words were soft, genuine. “Every day. And twice on Sundays.” Blake let a small, teasing grin slip, “Remember that when training starts.” He elbowed the door open, letting the Queen into a dimly lit training room. Mirrors covered the surface of all walls but one; the weapons hung on the farthest wall from the door, glistening in the candle light. The room boasted no windows or natural light, and as the door closed, the room only grew darker. The flat empty space gave way for the pair to train in complete silence and solitude, away from the bustle of the staff. Blake crossed the wooden floor quickly, eager to begin. He chose two padded gloves, tucking them under his arm as he turned to pass them to his charge. His arm hung in a cotton sling, still recovering from the injury of protecting the Queen weeks prior. The hand had been examined by Vera, who had spent a majority of her prime years caring after a Griffin ancestor who enjoyed swinging off roofs. The bones had been set just fine; it was Blake’s constant movement and hustle that hadn’t allowed the hand to heal yet. She had estimated months before it would be of use again. Blake stood behind his monarch, tapping both her shoulders until she let the tension in them slide away. Then he tapped at her ankles with his. “Left in front, right at the back,” he muttered. He watched her heed his instructions, and moved to a fighting stance. With is unbridled hand, he slid his fingers down her arm until he found her elbow, and positioned it outwards. As he moved to the second one, she caught his heated gaze in the mirror before them. He broke contact soon thereafter, and stood before her, arms wide. “Alright— hit me.” Clarke had barely begun to slip into the gloves. “What?” “Hit me.” Blake tapped at his stomach, indicating his intent. “Don’t you have stitches? I wouldn’t want to reopen them—” “Clarke.” The way he said her name was assurance in itself, but he smiled. “Trust me, remember?” Hesitant, Clarke edged closer towards him and threw a singular punch to his stomach. The blow landed with a soft thump, and Blake nearly laughed. “Is that all you got, Princess?” The soft goading threw her back into their time together as youths. It reminded her of the hatred she once felt for him. Channelling the long-forgotten prejudice, she let another blow meet his chest. This time, she saw him stagger to regain his footing. “Much better— Again.” Blake lead the Queen through common tactics, showing her the basics of combat. He had to remind himself of his goal; not to turn her into a soldier, but to hold the knowledge of defence. The hours sped by as he guided her through punches and kicks, dodging and deflecting. They stopped for nought but water, and fought past their expected time of return. When Reyes finally sought them out, it was because Vera had already searched the remainder of the Winter Palace. She found them shoulder to shoulder, practicing swift kicks to a make-believe opponent. Reyes smiled to herself, not surprised to see the Queen keeping up well in time with Blake. He was a quick teacher, but she was a better learner. Reyes watched as Blake lead the Queen through the rudimentary steps of a routine, and then stood before her, stance at the offensive. “Ready?” He called, and she nodded. “Go.” Blake lunged towards her; Reyes could see him holding back his punches. Clarke, however, came at him at full force. Her boxing gloves caught him squarely in the jaw— he recovered quickly, and threw another blow back her way. With every blow Blake landed on her body, Clarke retaliated triple-fold. The routine saw the two in a dance back and forth; dodging and aiming, throwing and pulling. They grew synchronised in movement— a well-practiced dance. The next time Blake lunged at her, she dodged his arm, and hooked her ankle under his knee. Before he could swing her way, she gave him a swift pull, and tackled him to the ground. They looked at each other; Blake from the ground and Clarke from above, panting. A slow clap sounded from the doorway, and caught both of their attention. Reyes stepped towards them, looking impressed. “You’re a quick learner, Your Majesty.” Clarke broke into a smile as she regarded the knight. “Thank you, Reyes. Perhaps we can bring you in to spar next time.” “A fine idea, but for now, I’m afraid you have other commitments.” Reyes eyed Blake in the corner. “Vera awaits your return, and Blake, a letter has arrived for you from the palace.” “Of course; she usually has dinner set at this time. Care to join me, Bellamy?” From the doorway, Raven mouthed Bellamy? at him, and an amused smile took over her lips. Blake ignored Reyes and bowed his head in Clarke’s direction. She counted that as a yes. “Wonderful. I’ll meet you in the Atrium in an hour. Feel free to bring the letter.” Blake knew that it wasn't a suggestion. The letter was awaiting Blake on his bedside table. Before he arranged for a bath to be drawn, he sank into the armchair by his bed, letting the familiar handwriting wash anxiety over his tired muscles. He tore the envelope open and let the pages of intel fall into his lap, tossing the vessel onto the table ahead of him. The dark candlelight room did no favours to the dark writing, but Blake still caught fragments of a sentence he wasn’t fond of. With a deep sigh, he tossed the pages onto his bed and slipped out of his training gear. In the room opposite his, the Queen was being tended to by her handmaid. Vera wasn’t pleased to find new bruises lining Clarke’s arms, freshly delivered with every time she caught Blake’s blows. Reyes delivered packets of ice to the Queen from the kitchens as they both awaited Vera’s call to the baths. “Thank you, Reyes.” Clarke smiled at her guard. “Looks like I took quite the beating for my first lesson.” Reyes chuckled. “You should have seen me on my first day. You’re positively more alive than we were when Blake first got to us.” Clarke dropped the ice onto her arm, holding it flush against her dotted skin. The cold juxtaposed her heated skin, still throbbing from the practice. She scoffed, but said nothing as her cheeks flushed. Of course he was going easy. “I did not mean to offend.” Reyes started. “I only meant— he worries for you, and he tries his best to hide it.” Clarke’s eyes slid up to meet Reyes’. What was she insinuating? She decided to change the subject. “How have your first few weeks here been, Reyes? Hopefully this placement isn't too boring for someone of your stature.” Reyes swung her gun off her shoulder and took a ginger seat on the arm of the chair facing the queen, and smiled. “For this night and all the nights to come, now my service begins.” The words hung in the air, a reminder of Clarke’s ascension only a few months prior. It felt so much longer. “It is my duty to you, Your Majesty, that keeps me on my feet.” “Thank you, Reyes. I do hope that we will have you back in the comforts of your regular post soon.” Reyes bowed her head towards her queen, and made her exit. Blake was the first to arrive at the Atrium of the Winter Mansion, wearing his military uniform. Vera had snuck into his room and insisted on it. The high marble ceilings glistened in the yellow candlelight of the lanterns placed around the vast room. The candles did very little for the draft caught in the high ceiling, brought in through wrought iron windows left open. At the very end of the hall stood three proud thrones; the Sovereign’s, her partner’s, and their advisor’s. A long wooden table stood bare in the centre of the room, if not for the two place settings that had been laid down; one at the head for Her Majesty, and a second on her immediate right. He carried the letter from the castle in his pocket, feeling the velvet of his coat weighed down further by the bad news he would have to share with her over dinner. His charge arrived shortly after him, with Reyes at her side. The guard bowed and left the two alone to dine. The Queen wore a long day dress of softened linen, its rose linen hugging her body. Small fabric roses clung to the dress like a spring garden. A dark maroon cloak graced her shoulders, bracing her for the sharp breeze of the Atrium. She wore her family’s crest upon the velvet cloak, and let her hair fall undressed across her shoulders. Blake bowed deeply towards her, and reached his unbroken hand towards her. Clarke let her hand slip into his, and he guided her towards her seat. He pulled the chair open for her, and let her sit before turning towards his own. Their familiarity from their practice had dissipated. What remained was the curt decorum royal obligation. “What news from the palace?” Clarke began as the first server brought their meal forward. Blake cleared his throat, and moved to pull the folded papers from his pocket. “Your Majes— Clarke.” He hesitated, waiting for the server to put down their soups before he released more information. “It’s bad news.” Clarke sent him a concerned look as he passed her the letter he had received that evening. She recognised Kane’s script, detailing the unfortunate updates from the palace. The first four pages were used to list the updates of all citizen concerns she had left for him to deal with. Of them all, she would have only dealt with a couple differently than Kane. The next three pages were written in code; it detailed the Queensguard’s attempt at securing the mountain, and every incident that had caused a failed mission. The last three pages listed every man that had died for their attempts at seizing the Mountain Men. “How could the plan have failed?” Her question came out in a soft whisper, horrified as she scanned the list of names. “We looked after every detail.” “There’s more.” Blake slid over the last page of the letter he had received. This one he had not read; it was written in the unmistakeable script of Her Majesty the Queen Mother, intended for her daughter. Clarke pulled the page towards her, trying to make sense of the words as she read the letter aloud. “‘Dear Gwendoline, I hope this letter finds you in good health— I am relocating from the castle under Kane’s advisement as he suspects… there may be an informant in the palace.’” Blake started. “What?” He craned his head to read the Queen Mother’s words. Clarke turned it to let him see, and continued. “‘I am afraid I cannot share my location with you my child, for it may be safer for us both. Kane remains in the palace but keeps track of my situation. Trust that he keeps me safe like Sir Blake does for you—‘ Kane didn’t share any of this information with you, Bellamy?” Blake shook his head. “I’ll write to him immediately, My Queen.” “If you please. And following that, we need to devise a new plan— one that will not be shared with anyone other than Kane himself— to get rid of these war criminals living in my home.” Blake sent an urgent carrier holding a strongly-worded letter addressed to the adviser before the hour was up. He expected the rider to return by dawn, if Kane had the courtesy to reply in due haste. Following their dinner, Clarke arranged for the war room to be cleared for use. Blake met her as soon as he sent the letter, and together, they designed a stronger offence against the Mountain Men. This one arranged for less men to be placed in harm’s way— they still were clueless to the reality of their enemy’s numbers. The two remained in the war room for more hours than they could count— after which they found themselves both sore and irritable. Their long training session combined with their unrelenting amendments to the plan of attack left them both aching to return to bed. When they had fleshed out an acceptable roadmap of the attack, they allowed themselves to part with the strict agreement to meet once again come morning. The two retreated to their rooms, and waved their goodnights from across the hall they shared. Vera was still waiting for the Queen, and quickly prepared her for bed. Across the hall, Blake was climbing into bed when he saw an envelope that had been left for him by his bedside. Curious, he reached for it. The letter he pulled from inside seemed water-damaged, and reeked of blood. Heart beating ever faster, he let the letter fall onto his bed. It flit open as it landed, exposing red lettering. Do you think you’re safe? Clarke woke with a start. She peeled her eyes open; they resisted, still dry with exhaustion. She found that it was eerily dark outside, and she wondered how long she had been asleep. Painful flashbacks soared through her memory— she could still see Murphy in her mind’s eye, his uniform coloured in crimson. In her dreams, she couldn't escape his cry as the bullet shot through his abdomen, slicing through his organs. She had nowhere to turn to, no one to drag her away. In her dreams, it was her and Murphy, and he didn't take too kindly to being disposable. He would each out to her, moaning, begging, hoping, that she would help him. His eyes were glazed over, his lips beginning to decay. A long, accusatory finger pointed in her direction. Blaming her. She still hadn't been updated to his condition, and she worried of what her dreams were trying to clue her in to. Was he dead? Dying? Too injured to ever return to the field? She couldn't shake the feeling that she had abandoned her subjects when she shouldn't have. Her heart still sounded in her chest from the dreams, and she couldn't bring herself to fall back asleep after what she witnessed. Her eyes darted towards the letter Kane had sent that evening. She had left it at her bedside table for a reread in the morning, when she could properly sort through the names of the brave men who had sacrificed their lives to attend to the fugitives living inside the castle walls. Slowly, Clarke reached for the pages, heart drumming against her ribs. The list was long, but she took it as her responsibility to memorise each name. Ankara Smith, Adria Halliday, William Cadogan, Myles Psypher, Osais Revere, Penn Gordon, Cuyler Ridley, Cole McAdams, Cillan Chase, Quint Lee, Daniel Lee— brothers— Derek Worin, Scott McAllister, Juel Whitman. Knights — Servants — Nobility — the names went on forever. Clarke let each name sink into her memory, vowing not to let their deaths go in vain by letting the Mountain Men run free. Two letters arrived the next morning; one for the Queen, and one for the head of Her Royal Guard. Vera handed Clarke her letter as soon as she left for the war room. Clarke didn't wait until she reached her destination; she ripped open the wax seal to expose Jackson’s handwriting. Her eyes scanned the lengthy letter detailing Murphy’s ailments and injuries, hoping for solid evidence of his survival. To sum, he is recovering, the final line wrote, and the Queen released a breath she didn't realise she was holding. “All is well, My Queen?” Clarke turned to find Blake waiting for her by his bedroom door, watching her silently. “It’s Murphy,” she admitted with a smile. “He’ll be fine.” “That’s better news than mine.” Blake pulled a letter of his own from his pocket, and approached Clarke with his arm outstretched. Wary, she took the pages with trembling fingers. “Open it over our meeting,” he suggested. “You're not going to like what it says.” Blake kept an arm around the Queen’s back and escorted her to the war room. There, she pulled the pages apart, and her heart sank as she read Kane’s words. Kane had relocated Queen Abigail to a safehouse far west; one of the royal homes of which he did not care to share the name with Blake. He claimed that the Queen Gwendoline was Blake’s sole responsibility, and Queen Abigail was Kane’s. “He really won’t say?” Clarke gasped. “Even by direct order?” Blake only shook his head. “He’s so sure there’s a mole in the castle, but no one remains. No one but him.” Blake’s gaze snapped to Clarke’s. “What are you insinuating?” “Can we really trust Kane with my mother’s life?” Clarke said. “He’s the only one in the castle, the servants barely have access to his letters. Only nobility pass through. How can we know it’s not him, Bellamy?” Blake nodded slowly, trying to ease her fears. He remembered the eerie blood letter he had received the night before, and contemplated sharing it with her. At last, he decided it was best not to. “I’ll look into it. I’ll try to find the Queen Mother.” “And what of this plan? It depends on Kane’s cooperation.” Blake crossed the short gap between himself and the Queen in quick strides. He eased the pages from her hands, and tossed them onto the table where their newly useless plans lay. He turned back to her, and cupped both of her hands inside his. His skin was warm against her cold fingers. “Look at me.” Clarke let her gaze slowly rise to meet his. He could see her concerns in her tearing eyes, and the tight fear she held in her forehead. “Do you trust me?” Blake asked. His voice was hushed, and soft. Clarke nodded slowly. “I will look into it,” he promised. “Okay?” She nodded again, her throat burning. “I can’t lose my mother, too.” Blake’s grip on her hands tightened, but he did not drop her gaze. “I won’t let that happen.” Clarke let their hands fall, and Blake duly let her go. The loss of contact seemed tangible. “Take the day to think,” Blake suggested, watching the Queen fidget. “And rest. Your concerns take over you.” Clarke passed Blake a grateful but fraudulent smile, and nodded. “Can we reconvene for new plans after practise?” “Of course. I’ll destroy the plans and join you in the later hours.” Blake tipped his head, and kept it bowed as the Queen exited the room with a sigh she tried to hide. He watched a tailing guard offer her his arm as the door slowly swung closed. When it was shut, he moved to the vast planning table in the centre of the war room. With a heavy sigh, he lifted the documents he had spent hours creating with the Queen and rolled them into a cylinder. He hid the roll behind the King’s bookshelf— he had a feeling he might need them sooner than he had thought. He gave himself a moment of silence in the war room before he joined Clarke. Despite the early hour, he pulled a glass bottle of Scotch from the Queen’s side of the table and poured himself a drink. He had never been as inclined to drink at work than today. The hours passed quickly for the both of them. Clarke had taken the unexpected opening in her morning to explore the mansion she had already spent weeks in. It was odd for her to not recognise every passageway and shortcut, so she committed herself to memorising the house that would serve as her new home— until Blake allowed otherwise. While she was grateful for Blake remaining at her side— like many were not— she wondered if their extended time spent together was proving more harmful than not. She found herself drawn into his orbit, when her duty demanded she stay on course with her own. Many years ago, as a mere child, her mother had spoken words that Clarke had yet to forget: “Remember dearest— no matter how you marry; he is not the sun. You are.” Clarke tried to keep the advice fresh in her mind every time she met with the head of her Royal Guard— and found herself slipping. It was a steep slope; easy to fall and hard to climb away from. She caught his eyes more often than before. Her heart drummed as his fingers grazed her skin. Every word he spoke was honey, drenching her wounds in a healing bliss. She found her gaze glued to his lips, and would watch helplessly as they moved to formulate words she sometimes chose not to hear. Bellamy Blake had become her rock, and she knew it would become more trouble than she was ready for. She proved herself right when she bumped into his back in the late afternoon, too lost in her thoughts to have seen him in her tracks. He turned to face her with a glare that melted as soon as their eyes met. “Your Majesty,” Blake cleared his throat. He noticed she had taken her hair out of its tight undo from that morning. “Are you alright?” Clarke nodded slowly, taking in her surroundings. Although she was unaware of how she had reached it, she found herself in the West Garden Colosseum— the pride of the Winter Mansion. It was only then that she noticed Blake’s many documents, littering the aged marble benches. She seemed to have caught him in the middle of making guard arrangements. She glanced past them to take in the grass. Marble statues dotted the vast garden, each distinctly representing a Griffin ancestor. She was told as a child that they had stopped generations ago as a means of preserving the old tradition without defiling it with new additions, but looking at the collection, Clarke considered creating one for her father’s memory. “This place is beautiful,” she whispered, but Blake’s thoughts were elsewhere. “Where is your guard? He should be accompanying you everywhere.” “Dismissed,” Clarke mused. “You could hear his stomach growling from a mile away.” Blake’s features turned to one of deep anger, and he turned to collect his things. “Who was he? He can be dismissed permanently—” When he turned back to leave the garden, Clarke’s hand caught him squarely in the chest. It stopped him in his tracks, and she chuckled. “It’s alright, Blake. I insisted he go.” Clarke saw the conflicting thoughts reflected in his eyes, and she added, “It’s really alright. Please, sit, and don’t let me interrupt your work.” Blake glanced down to Clarke’s hand, still in the centre of his chest. As he did, she let it slip, and he felt the ache that followed it. He hadn't quite minded the heat it had brought him. “Join me.” he invited her, and passed her a book from the inside of the satchel that carried his documents. “I found you entertainment.” He let Clarke sit first, and then sat beside her despite the vast availability of vacant benches. She inched towards him, and although he said nothing, Blake let himself enjoy it. He pulled the schedules back out from the satchel he had shoved them into and restarted scribbling his notes. They both knew they only had an hour until it was time to meet for training practise, and thus made the best of efforts to enjoy the time. When the sun finally set, it felt as though no time had passed. Blake helped the Queen to her feet, and collected their materials to commit back into his bag. Then, he held an hand out to her and escorted her back to their sleeping quarters to prepare for combat. When Clarke walked back to him after changing into the clothes he had lent her, Blake found himself in the unique position of having forgotten to breathe. He had made himself look past it the day before, but seeing her in his clothes lit him on fire. The practise session was near identical to the night before; he was simply teaching her the basics, after all. This time, Blake had let his arm free from the sling that had restricted it for the weeks past. Clarke, ever careful, refused to hit too hard towards the arm. Despite Blake’s incessant requests, the Queen kept to practising kicks to his waist and abdomen over punches to the arms. “Clarke.” He sounded angry when he spoke, but perhaps it was simply the exhaustion of being kicked in the chest for three hours. “You can’t defend yourself with kicks alone. You have to be prepared for more.” The Queen shook her head, panting. They remained sparring through their conversation. “Vera would nag me, Bellamy, you don’t understand.” She knew it was a poor excuse, but it had worked the entire session. “I’ll take it for you,” he waved it off. “Punch me.” Again, she shook her head, and prepared herself for a kick to the thigh. “Maybe next week, when you’ve recovered.” At that, Blake let his arms fall, signifying the end of the spar. “You don’t know if we’ll get that kind of time.” “I won’t do it,” Clarke reflected his actions, and let her arms rest. “Recover, and we’ll talk about it again. Rules are rules— ‘if you’re hurt, we stop’, remember?” “Clarke—” “We still have time for one more round, and then we can get dinner.” She interrupted him with little hesitation, trying to move away from the beginning of another argument. “This time, you come at me.” Blake paused, but then nodded. The tactic would be useful. He thrust himself in her direction, but she easily blocked. She threw a punch in his direction, which caught him in the ribs. She took the opportunity he created while falling back to attack again with her knee, this time to his waist. It landed smoothly, and Blake tried not to double over. In turn, he sent a kick to her calf. She took the blow, but did not fall. Instead, she threw a kick, aiming high for his chest. He raised his arm to stop the blow. The block went wrong, and Blake could see her trip on his ankle. Instinctually, he reached out to her and forced his right hand behind her head, only seconds before it slammed against the ground. He landed on his hands, caging her in between his limbs. They both heard the resounding snap that followed the fall. Despite his best efforts, Blake’s features contorted to one of immense pain, and she knew he had re-fractured his hand. From her position on the ground, Clarke pushed her hands onto Blake’s chest— a sincere blow of agitation. “I fucking knew it!” She yelled. Blake let himself drop onto his elbows, closing the gap between them. He was completely taken aback by her use of colourful language, but didn't have time to react. She pulled his hand from behind her head, not making a move to get up from their awkward position. He could feel the quickened rise and fall of her chest, against his. She took his hand in hers and examined it, letting him watch as she gingerly tested its reflexes. When her fingers grazed the broken bone, he flinched. She looked to him with fire in her eyes, chest heaving. “I knew you were going to break something today, Bellamy. Honestly.” Despite his best efforts to listen, Clarke’s reprimands fell on deaf ears. The movement of her lips engulfed his senses, especially because he lay so close to them. He let his head tip, bringing him closer to her face. Her mouth fell closed as she felt his weight shift onto her. She wondered if she was imagining it— surely Blake has never acted so rash in the past. Surely, she had hit her head on the floor too hard, and her mind was playing tricks on her. Using her desires to twist her perception of the events that unfolded over her. She only convinced herself of its reality when she felt his warm breath tickle her neck— just like it had at his sister’s home all those weeks ago. The memory of what could have happened then returned to her, and was the only thing keeping her from checking in with the royal medic of Winter. Blake’s eyes dropped to her lips, and stayed rooted there. He seemed to be mulling over the idea of kissing her, not knowing how much she was hoping he did it. She wanted to say something— maybe even convince him into doing it— but could not find her breath. She took to provoking him instead. She lifted her head from the ground, straining her neck until the tip of her nose touched his. Do it, she begged. He seemed to catch her meaning, because he ducked to meet her lips in his. A sharp knock on the door interrupted their rhythm. Blake pulled his weight back into his elbows, pushing himself off the ground to lay beside the Queen, breathing heavily beside him. Her eyes remained shut to their intruder, as she tried to catch her breath. “Sir,” the guard called into the room. “The Queen’s presence is requested for dinner.” “Thank you, I’ll send her now.” Blake climbed back onto his feet, his left arm cradling his right. The guard provided a quick salute and ducked into the hallway, out of sight. Blake turned to Clarke, trying to collect herself. He tapped her on the knee to get her to pull her eyes open, and when they did, she turned red. Blake tried to push back what had been their reality only moments before, and offered her a hand to lift her up. She took it, but avoided his gaze. When he spoke, his voice caught. “Vera… dinner…” Clarke nodded, and turned to collect her jacket from the corner of the room. When she turned back, Blake was already exiting the room, leaving her alone. Blake cursed to himself. Despite propriety, he chastised himself for not being able to do what they had both so clearly wanted. Perhaps it was for the better, he told himself. Perhaps they had dodged a bullet. Without warning, Blake felt a warm hand grab his arm. He was spun around, and despite her being the only one in the room he left behind, he was surprised to find the Queen face him. She pushed him, so roughly that he fell onto the wall, and approached him. Her hands found the wall behind him. Standing on the tips of her toes, she refused hesitation, and let her lips crash onto his.
10796019	Le vrai du faux	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Luna Dragonneau, Lily Luna Potter, Scorpius Malefoy, Lysandre Dragonneau, Ginny Potter, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "Français", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Ploum", "chapters": "11/11", "completed": "2017-07-16", "published": "2017-05-02T00:00:00", "words": "62,997", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Luna Dragonneau & Ginny Potter, Lily Luna Potter & Scorpius Malefoy & Albus Potter, Ginny Potter / Harry Potter, Luna Dragonnea & Lorcan Dragonneau & Lysandre Dragonneau, Luna Dragonneau & Rolf Dragonneau", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Aussitôt apparue dans la large rue dallée, les bruits de la foule envahirent ses oreilles, et elle en fut quelque peu étourdie. Elle revenait d'une mission de plusieurs mois dans le massif des Rhodopes en Bulgarie, loin de toute civilisation humaine. Cela lui faisait donc réellement drôle de revenir dans un endroit si peuplé à présent, et ce même si elle travaillait là depuis longtemps, et que cet environnement lui était plus que familier. Elle soupira, nostalgique mais heureuse. Ces derniers mois avaient été fantastiques, mais son retour ne la rendait pas malheureuse. Et puis, le temps était enchanteur, clair et doux, alors qu'ils étaient déjà en novembre – et cela ne pouvait que la rendre de bonne humeur.Une brusque poussée sur son épaule tira Luna de ses pensées. Elle n'avait pas vu qui l'avait ainsi bousculée, et elle ne chercha pas à le savoir. Il n'en fallut pas moins pour qu'elle se mît en marche, réajustant l'anse de son sac par la même occasion, et elle déambula parmi les capes de sorcier, les silhouettes chapotées et divers cris enthousiastes. Malgré toute cette cacophonie, connaissant le chemin par cœur, il suffît de quelques secondes pour qu'elle plongeât dans les souvenirs de ces dernières semaines.A quarante ans, Luna n'avait aucune raison de se plaindre de sa vie. Son travail de naturaliste, quoique prenant, répondait à toutes ses attentes, surtout que, son mari effectuant le même travail qu'elle, il n'était pas rare qu'elle travaille avec lui, et cette mission n'avait pas fait figure d'exception. Ils avaient ainsi pu profiter, entre leurs différents travaux sur le terrain, du cadre magique de ces lieux restés sauvages. Mais son travail ne consistait pas seulement à trouver et à étudier les créatures magiques les plus rares dans leur milieu aussi, régulièrement, elle se rendait sur son lieu de travail, c'est-à-dire l'établissement qui l'employait. Le Muséum d'Histoire Naturelle de Londres. Enfin, la version magique, bien sûr.La haute structure apparut enfin devant elle tandis qu'elle suivait la courbure qu'effectuait la rue, et elle prit quelques secondes pour s'arrêter et l'admirer avec un petit sourire distrait. Elle connaissait cette façade par cœur, mais à chaque fois qu'elle rentrait, comme aujourd'hui, elle prenait le temps de le contempler. Immense, le Muséum n'avait pourtant rien de particulier et possédait le même type d'architecture que sa version moldue à Londres, quoique le bâtiment fût plus large et moins long, et qu'il présentât un étage supplémentaire. En haut des grandes portes de bois sombre, l'intitulé « Muséum d'Histoire Naturelle consacré aux Créatures Magiques » était sculpté dans la pierre et se tenait immobile, mais la couleur qui s'assombrissait et s'éclaircissait alternativement donnait l'impression qu'il pulsait. C'était un détail parmi tant d'autres, mais Luna l'aimait bien, car elle lui trouvait un aspect reposant. Elle finit cependant par en détacher les yeux, pour s'avancer plus avant vers la haute bâtisse et finalement entrer.Aussitôt, les bruits s'étouffèrent, remplacés par de doux chuchotements des quelques personnes à proximité. Le Muséum était déjà ouvert au public, mais il était encore tôt, et l'accueil était vide. Pas un seul client, mais pas seulement. La personne chargée du standing avait dû partir aux toilettes. Ou peut-être que les –« Madame Dragonneau ! Quel plaisir de vous revoir ! »Luna tourna la tête vers celui qui venait de l'interpeller. Un homme grand et costaud s'approcha d'elle avec un grand sourire, avant de lui tendre la main pour la serrer d'une franche poignée. Elle reconnut aussitôt le vigile, qui lui s'était bien tenu à son poste, bien qu'elle ne l'ait pas aperçu auparavant.« Bonjour Peters », répondit-elle amicalement.Elle le vit regarder derrière elle tandis qu'il lâchait sa main, et elle n'eut pas à attendre longtemps pour en connaitre la raison :« Votre mari n'est pas avec vous ? »« Non, il règle quelques formalités là-bas. Il ne devrait pas tarder à arriver, je pense. »Peters sourit et acquiesça. Il avait l'habitude de ce genre de situation, et quand elle disait cela, son mari venait généralement au moins une heure après ses paroles. Toutefois, il ne releva pas, légèrement amusé.« En tout cas, j'espère que tout s'est bien passé durant votre mission. »« A merveille », répondit distraitement la jeune femme, sans détailler davantage – ce à quoi il était également habitué.« Eh bien, je vais vous laisser », fit-il en hochant la tête avec un clin d'œil, tandis qu'une autre personne se dirigeait vers eux. « J'espère que vous me raconterez tout ! »« J'y tâcherai ! »Il était déjà de retour à son poste lorsque la personne parvint au niveau de Luna. C'était un homme de petite taille, bedonnant mais habillé de manière cintrée et distinguée, et à l'allure irréprochable. Il paraissait ainsi sévère et sûr de lui la plupart du temps, mais présentement, un air ravi occupait son visage – bien qu'elle avait cru voir une lueur d'inquiétude au fond de ses yeux, mais elle ne l'aurait pas juré. De la même façon que le premier homme, la poignée de main fut de mise, en même temps que les salutations d'usage.« J'ose espérer que vous n'êtes pas trop fatiguée – Mandy et Finley sont malades, et votre aide serait plus que bienvenue, dès que faire se peut ! »« Bien sûr », acquiesça Luna, qui se rappelait de la commande effectuée plusieurs mois plus tôt, et qui nécessiterait un réaménagement complet du Muséum – qui de ce fait, fermerait d'ici une à deux semaines, jusqu'à la fin de l'année au moins.Elle fut néanmoins surprise par ce que le directeur ajouta en soupirant :« Déjà qu'avec toutes les nouvelles acquisitions, nous allions être débordés… il aura en plus fallu que quelqu'un s'amuse à faire disparaitre plusieurs de nos Objets, et à en déplacer d'autres ! Comme si c'était bien le moment ! Et impossible de savoir qui c'est, c'est incroyable ! Enfin, nous ne sommes pas là pour cela… »« Comment cela ? » voulut savoir Luna, mais la question fut balayée d'un geste de la main.« Plus tard. Alors, comment s'est déroulée votre mission ? »En même temps qu'il le lui demandait, il lui fit signe de la suivre, et ils cheminèrent ensemble vers le bureau du directeur tandis qu'elle donnait un résumé des divers événements de ces derniers mois et de ce qu'ils avaient pu apprendre – sachant que tout le détail figurait dans ses différents rapports, et qu'il était déjà au courant de l'essentiel. Elle ne put sortir qu'une heure après, pas plus au courant qu'à son arrivée concernant la disparition de certains objets – tout ce qu'il avait daigné indiquer était que tout serait dit lors de la réunion qui aurait lieu en début d'après-midi. De retour dans le grand hall, elle croisa son mari, à qui elle adressa un sourire espiègle :« A ton tour », chuchota-t-elle tandis qu'il se rendait vers le lieu qu'elle venait de quitter.Les objets disparus toujours à l'esprit, et n'ayant pour l'heure rien d'autre à faire jusqu'à la prochaine réunion, Luna fronça les sourcils et se mit en tête de trouver la réponse à ses interrogations muettes. Mais la femme chargée de l'accueil étant occupée avec une famille, et ne voulant pas déranger Peters dans son travail, elle se mit à déambuler dans les grands couloirs, jetant quelques œillades aux expositions qu'elle connaissait presque par cœur.Elle les connaissait si bien, d'ailleurs, qu'elle repéra instantanément des détails qui pouvaient passer inaperçus. Là, le croc à venin du basilic était légèrement penché au lieu d'être droit. Là-bas, il manquait un pinceau de poils à la queue d'un doxy empaillé. Et encore ailleurs, quelques pattes d'un Scroutt à pétard avaient été arrachées. Et ce n'était que des choses comme cela, partout. Jusqu'à ce qu'elle parvienne à une vitrine, où étaient normalement exposés trois vivets dorés. Il n'y en avait plus qu'un.Allons bon. Que pouvaient bien faire les Nargoles avec tout ça ? Elle avait l'habitude de leurs petites farces, mais il semblerait que cela prît une dimension importante ici, et c'était vraiment étrange. Habituellement, ils se contentaient de déplacer quelques objets, pour les installer dans des lieux improbables, qui nécessiteraient au propriétaire une longue recherche avant de retrouver son bien. Mais en même temps, cela leur ressemblait si bien.Et puis… maintenant qu'elle y pensait, et elle ne saurait en expliquer la raison, elle avait l'impression que de nombreux Nargoles se trouvaient à proximité – voire dans le Musée. Surtout dans le Musée, en fait. Et elle ne comprenait pas. C'était la première fois qu'une telle impression la saisissait. Même les bouquets de gui n'en avaient jamais comporté autant, et elle ne savait pas ce que cela signifiait.Perturbée par cette sensation étrange, elle marcha jusqu'à l'arrière-boutique, là où étaient entreposés les quelques objets retirés de l'exposition pour une future restauration, puis elle s'avança jusque dans la zone de stockage, où s'amassait l'essentiel des objets non exposés. Jusqu'à faire face à une armoire immense, devant laquelle elle s'arrêta. Elle fronça les sourcils. L'air était comme lourd, presque électrique, impression renforcée par le bleu sombre zébré d'éclairs argentés du bois de l'armoire. Elle ne savait pas si cela était lié aux Nargoles, même si cela était pour le moins étrange. Ils étaient facétieux, pas agressifs et sournois.L'armoire vira au rouge sombre presque noir, et Luna ne comprit pas davantage. Elle sursauta lorsqu'un immense bruit retentit derrière elle, et se retourna. Juste à temps pour voir une grande planche foncer vers elle, sans personne pour la tenir, et lui cogner violemment le sommet du crâne. Le choc fut net et bref, et elle sombra immédiatement dans l'inconscience…… Pour se réveiller, un temps indéterminé plus tard, allongée sur le sol froid et dur, surplombée par un manutentionnaire inquiet qui ne cessait de lui secouer l'épaule.« Ma-Madame Dragonneau, vous reprenez enfin conscience ! »Elle se redressa lentement en se frottant la tête, mais ne sentit rien à par ses cheveux. Elle glissa sa main sur son front, mais là non plus, rien. Le choc n'avait dû être suffisant pour lui ouvrir une plaie, mais une douleur sourde ne cessait de lui vriller le cerveau. Et puis, elle se souvenait de tout. Pourquoi les Nargoles avaient-ils agi ainsi ? Ce n'étaient pas dans leurs habitudes d'être aussi violents !« Je-je vais bien ! » marmonna-t-elle finalement, posant une main sur le torse du jeune homme pour l'écarter. « Merci », ajouta-t-elle en prenant un air rayonnant pour le rassurer, mais ce dernier demanda tout de même :« Vous voulez que je vous accompagne – »« Ce ne sera pas nécessaire, je peux y aller toute seule », le coupa-t-elle.Tout en sachant qu'en vérité, elle ne comptait pas se rendre devant un quelconque médicomage déjà, elle se relevait, et seul un faible vertige l'avait saisi une seconde. Elle s'en tirait sans séquelles, pourquoi donc les déranger pour si peu ? La douleur commençait déjà à refluer, d'ailleurs.Après quelques échanges, elle réussit à se débarrasser du jeune homme trop empressé et rebroussa chemin, retournant dans la partie du Musée accessible au public. Finalement, elle fut de retour à l'entrée du bâtiment sans même s'en être rendu compte, et elle y retrouva Rolf, debout face à elle avec le sourire, qui vint vers elle pour l'enlacer et l'embrasser. Mais, distraite par ses pensées sur la présence anormale des Nargoles qu'elle ne parvenait pas à justifier et par leur soudain accès de violence, elle y répondit à peine. Il ne s'en formalisa pas, se contentant de l'embrasser sur le front.« Je suppose que tu as entendu parler des objets qui ont disparu récemment ? »Luna leva un regard intrigué vers son mari, cherchant à déterminer s'il possédait certaines réponses, étant donné qu'elle n'en savait pas davantage. Il haussa les épaules.« Le directeur m'a juste brièvement informé de cela, mais m'a dit qu'il en parlerait plus en détails pendant la réunion de cette après-midi. »Déçue, elle hocha la tête avant de tourner le regard vers l'extérieur, visible au travers de l'entrebâillement de la porte. Cela ne dura que quelques secondes, car elle se referma par magie avec un doux grincement presque imperceptible. Elle reporta alors son attention sur son mari.« Je n'en sais pas plus que toi, il m'a dit strictement la même chose. J'ai regardé les expositions en attendant, et j'ai vu qu'il manquait pas mal de choses, et que d'autres avaient été déplacées. »Elle n'alla pas plus loin dans ses explications Rolf, comme la plupart de ses homologues, ne croyait pas aux Nargoles. Leurs fils, oui, mais pas lui. Il ne s'en était jamais moqué, loin de là, mais chaque fois qu'elle les évoquait pour justifier l'absence de telle chose ou la raison pour laquelle tel objet se retrouvait dans une localisation improbable, il haussait les épaules d'impuissance et ne s'appesantissait jamais sur la chose. Mais cela ne l'avait jamais dérangée ; elle en avait l'habitude. Cela avait toujours été ainsi, et ce dès l'enfance.« Eh bien, je suppose que nous ne sommes pas forcés de rester ici en attendant cette réunion. Que dirais-tu de sortir un peu ? Cela fait un moment que nous sommes partis. »Luna accepta, bien que la question des Nargoles la taraudait toujours. Pourtant, elle l'oublia bien vite, tandis qu'ils erraient dans les rues de Londres, redécouvrant avec plaisir la ville qu'ils connaissaient déjà par cœur après de nombreux mois d'absence.xoxoxo« Ce ne sont pas des petits joueurs, en tout cas », soupira Rolf en déposant le parchemin sur la commode à l'entrée avant de retirer son manteau.Elle comprenait la liste des objets volés, déplacés ou endommagés que leur avait fournie le directeur plus tôt dans la journée. Elle était longue. Luna était tout simplement atterrée que de tels vols et de telles dégradations aient pu se produire sans que personne ne sache rien. Même pour les Nargoles, cela n'avait aucun sens. La plupart de ces objets n'avait pas de réelle valeur – ce n'étaient pas des objets d'art mais de collection, à intérêt essentiellement pédagogique. Et l'un d'entre eux était trop volumineux pour être transporté sans mal – c'était beaucoup d'efforts pour pas grand-chose, au final.Outre la quantité d'objets concernés, ce qui inquiétait surtout le directeur était le vol d'objets présents en réserve et non présentés au public. Certains d'entre eux pouvaient se révéler relativement dangereux, même si cela n'était rien comparé aux Objets détenus par le Ministère – beaucoup ayant été récupérés les années suivant la défaite de Voldemort et l'arrestation des Mangemorts survivants.Luna la récupéra aussitôt, et ses yeux glissèrent sur les différentes appellations. Toutes lui disaient plus ou moins quelque chose. Mais elle ne comprenait toujours pas l'intérêt de ces vols ni ce qui pouvait justifier un tel rassemblement de Nargoles, et elle avait la sensation que quelque chose lui échappait. Toutefois, rien ne lui permit de mettre le doigt sur ce qui la gênait.« Tu es sûre que ça va ? »« Mmh ? »Elle leva alors les yeux vers son mari, qui la fixait d'un air étrange. Aussitôt, elle sentit la chaleur qui l'étouffait presque, et se rendit alors compte qu'elle n'avait même pas pris la peine de retirer ni son manteau ni ses chaussures, et s'était contenté de le suivre dans le salon, ainsi vêtue.« Oh. Si, si, ça va. »Elle s'empressa de poser le parchemin sur la table basse pour repartir dans le hall, se déshabiller et revenir. Elle s'affala aussitôt sur le canapé en cuir clair, et ferma les yeux en posant la tête contre le dossier. Les mouvements du canapé lui indiquèrent que son mari en avait fait de même. Elle ouvrit les yeux, et vit qu'il la dévisageait.« Sûre ? Je peux aller au Ministère demain à ta place si tu veux. Ça ne me dérange pas, ce n'est pas comme si – »« Non, ça ira. Ne t'inquiète pas », le rassura-t-elle avec un petit sourire. « Et puis, je la connais. Ça fait un moment que nous ne nous sommes pas vues, d'ailleurs, ce sera l'occasion ! »Car comme les vols se devaient d'être déclarés, que ni le directeur, ni les autres n'avaient apparemment eu le temps de le faire, et que certains objets concernés étaient relativement sensibles, elle irait le lendemain au Ministère, d'abord dans le département concerné par les déclarations de vols, puis dans le secteur consacré aux objets plus sensibles faisant l'objet d'une attention particulière. Dans ce cadre-là, le Ministre de la Magie serait certainement présent. Enfin, LA Ministre plutôt. Son élection était récente, et cela lui faisait tout drôle d'y penser – bien que dans le fond, sa nomination ne la surprenait pas. Ne surprenait personne ou presque, d'ailleurs. Elle se rappelait d'elle à Poudlard, et du chemin qu'elle avait parcouru pour en arriver là. Brillant, comme tout ce qu'elle avait déjà entrepris.Sa réponse sembla le rassurer, car il se détendit, et il s'affala davantage dans le canapé. Le silence s'installa, mais il était confortable. Ils n'avaient pas besoin de se parler dans de telles circonstances.Les pensées de Luna se perdirent aussitôt dans les méandres de ses interrogations, et la question des Nargoles demeurait encore sans réponse. Pour le coup, elle regretta l'absence de ses deux jumeaux, les seuls à la comprendre dans son environnement proche, avec son père. Mais ils étaient encore à Poudlard, et ne reviendraient que pour les vacances de Noël. Et puis, ce n'était définitivement pas assez grave pour les inquiéter en leur écrivant une lettre, il y avait trop peu à en dire. Mais un regard extérieur aurait été intéressant. Peut-être devrait-elle rendre visite à son père ? Mais c'était le même dilemme et puis, elle n'en aurait pas forcément le temps.Elle ne sortit de ses pensées que lorsqu'elle se rendit compte de l'heure qu'il était, tandis que la lumière déclinait et que la pièce plongeait lentement dans la pénombre. Elle se leva. Rolf rouvrit les yeux à son tour et lui lança un regard étonné.« Il sera bientôt l'heure de manger », se justifia-t-elle.Pourtant, elle n'avait aucune envie de préparer quoi que ce soit, mais cela lui permettrait peut-être de dévier ses pensées vers autre chose. Rien que pour réfléchir à ce qu'ils pourraient bien manger.Rolf acquiesça et se leva à son tour pour la suivre jusque dans la cuisine, pas plus enthousiasmé qu'elle par cette tâche. Mais la magie était là pour leur simplifier la vie.xoxoxoLes portes de l'ascenseur s'ouvrirent, cédant le passage à plusieurs personnes sortantes et d'autres s'engouffrant à l'intérieur. Luna dut se presser davantage contre la paroi froide pour ne pas se faire bousculer, et leva son regard vers les notes volantes. Les portes se refermèrent, et la cage s'ébranla. Elle n'y fit pas plus attention, et ferma les yeux. Elle avait quelques étages de marge, et tous les boutons étaient allumés. Il avait bien sûr fallu qu'elle fût là au moment où le Ministère était noir de monde – mais c'était difficile de faire autrement, car hormis aux horaires les plus extrêmes, c'était presque toujours le cas, surtout en cette période. L'affaire des trois Mangemorts échappés d'Azkaban qui avaient tenté quelque chose – elle ne savait pas quoi, elle était perdue en Bulgarie à ce moment-là – avait bien marqué les esprits, et le Ministère était pris d'une agitation fébrile. Plus le récent changement de Ministre, suite aux élections qui avaient eu lieu quelques mois plus tôt.Pour ne rien arranger, elle était arrivée avec un peu de retard. Beaucoup, en fait. Pourquoi ? Parce qu'elle était passée brièvement au Musée accompagner Rolf et voir ce qu'elle devrait faire en rentrant du Ministère, et le directeur en avait profité pour leur tomber dessus et leur apprendre avec effroi que d'autres objets avaient disparu pendant la nuit – bien moins nombreux que la veille, cependant. Parmi les détails, elle se rappelait juste que la nouvelle petite liste incluait l'Armoire changeante, ce qui n'était pas sans lui rappeler l'incident de la veille et la curieuse excitation des Nargoles – et elle ne pouvait s'empêcher d'y voir là un lien. Après tout, il était étrange que le vol se fut produit la nuit-même du jour de cet incident près de cette Armoire, justement. Même si les Nargoles étaient les rois des facéties, cela ne lui disait rien qui vaille.Elle avait donc dû attendre que l'inventaire soit entièrement terminé – le Musée n'avait d'ailleurs pas ouvert pour faciliter la chose, au grand déplaisir du directeur que cette histoire commençait sérieusement à agacer – pour obtenir une nouvelle liste, qui intégrait ces disparitions. Elle n'avait plus qu'à prier pour que le Département ne fût pas trop plein à cette heure – mais elle n'espérait pas trop, le premier où elle s'était rendue était plein à craquer et elle avait attendu une heure avant de pouvoir déclarer les vols. Et comme si cela ne suffisait pas, comme il y avait de nombreux objets de types très variés, il avait fallu remplir plusieurs dossiers, ce qui avait pris du temps. Avec tout cela, il était presque midi. Autant dire qu'à cette heure, elle avait peu de chance de croiser la Ministre. Ou alors, peut-être qu'elle partirait manger – mais cela ne changerait rien à son problème.La sonnerie résonna, les portes s'ouvrirent une nouvelle fois, et le manège recommença – et avec disparut peu à peu l'espoir que le flot puisse se tarir. Elle serra son sac comme elle pouvait, l'écrasant contre la paroi pour éviter de le perdre, et pensa à la liste à l'intérieur. Et notamment à deux objets qui, seuls, ne l'avaient pas fait réagir, mais ensemble, l'interpellaient. Leur association lui rappelait quelque chose, quelque chose de mauvais, mais quoi ?La scène se répéta encore plusieurs fois sans qu'à aucun moment elle ne se rappelât de ce détail qui lui échappait, lorsqu'enfin ce fut son tour. Elle dut forcer le passage afin de pouvoir sortir, car cette fois-ci, peu firent de même, ce qui la soulageait à moitié. Avec un peu de chance, il n'y aurait pas autant de monde que lorsqu'elle avait déclaré les premiers vols. Certes, il y avait nettement moins d'objets concernés, mais peut-être faudrait-il réaliser des dossiers plus étayés, car leur perte était un peu plus sensible.Peut-être la chance avait-elle décidé de tourner en sa faveur, finalement. Car avait-elle à peine eu le temps de faire une bonne dizaine de pas qu'elle tomba sur deux connaissances, dont l'une était même son amie. Peut-être était-ce sa nouvelle fonction et sa tenue qui lui conféraient cette aura particulière, mais pour l'heure, elle lui sembla impressionnante. Cette dernière, une brune aux cheveux bouclés et disciplinés maintenus en un chignon lâche, s'était arrêtée, et son homologue fit rapidement de même. Ils la fixèrent, une lueur surprise dans les yeux.« Luna ! » finit par s'écrier la femme avec un sourire, avant de se rapprocher d'elle. « Je ne croyais presque plus à ton arrivée ! Tu aurais dû être là depuis presque deux heures ! »Aucun reproche n'était perceptible dans sa voix, ni d'inquiétude, même si elle fronçait légèrement les sourcils, attendant vraisemblablement une explication à cela.« Bonjour Hermione ! Je suis désolée de n'avoir pu arriver plus tôt, mais il y a eu de nouveaux vols au Muséum, et il a fallu attendre qu'une nouvelle liste soit établie avant de venir. Ensuite, j'ai perdu pas mal de temps au service de déclaration de vols. C'est incroyable comme il est rempli, à cette heure ! »« Tu n'as pas idée ! » surenchérit Hermione avec un petit sourire, bien faible en comparaison du pli soucieux qui lui barrait le visage.Cela intrigua Luna, mais elle ne put s'appesantir davantage sur ce point, car Hermione se tourna alors vers son collègue, un homme grand et brun vêtu d'une cape bleu nuit de bonne facture. Luna le connaissait pour s'occuper du poste de directeur du département dont elle ne se rappelait plus de la dénomination exacte, chargé des Objets Magiques dits sensibles, c'est-à-dire considérés comme potentiellement dangereux – quelque fût le degré de dangerosité. Sachant que, bien sûr, les plus dangereux se trouvaient au Ministère sous haute surveillance. Mais cela ne voulait pas dire pour autant qu'aucun dispositif n'existait pour les autres objets, loin s'en fallait.« Luna, je te présente Wyath Smogger. Je suppose que tu le connaissais déjà de nom et que tu l'avais déjà aperçu. J'ai une réunion dans un peu plus d'une heure, mais vu que tu es là, si nous pouvions finir rapidement avec cela… »Luna et Wyath acquiescèrent, et tous se dirigèrent vers le bureau de Wyath, faisant faire demi-tour aux deux autres. Le trajet dura une petite dizaine de minutes, et il fut relativement silencieux – relativement car en fait, Wyath chuchotait à voix basse à l'adresse d'Hermione, qui hochait la tête de temps en temps, mais ce qu'il lui disait ne semblait pas lui plaire. Son visage semblait se fermer. Cependant, Luna n'y fit pas réellement attention, jugeant qu'après tout, si cela la concernait, elle le saurait tôt ou tard. Elle se perdit donc dans ses pensées, songeant par ailleurs que là aussi, il semblerait que les Nargoles se soient rassemblés en grand nombre pour une mystérieuse raison… Cependant, de même qu'au Musée, ce n'était qu'une sensation ténue qu'elle avait rarement ressentie, qui s'expliquait sans doute par leur nombre, et qu'elle était bien incapable de situer.« Vous avez beaucoup de gui, par ici ? » ne put-elle s'empêcher de lâcher en levant les yeux vers le haut plafond.Après tout, peut-être n'était-ce que pour cela, et que ce n'était que pur hasard qu'elle en sente là de la même façon qu'au Musée.« Pardon ? » s'exclama Wyath en se retournant vers elle, les sourcils froncés.Hermione se retourna également, arborant un air étonné.« Il y a beaucoup de Nargoles par ici », explicita Luna, ce qui eut le mérite de faire lever les yeux au ciel à Hermione.Wyath ne comprit toutefois pas la référence et ouvrit la bouche pour demander davantage de détails, mais Hermione lui fit signe de laisser tomber en secouant la tête. Il n'insista pas.Ils entrèrent dans le bureau du Directeur, dont la taille était conséquente mais n'avait rien à voir avec le faste du bureau du Ministre de la Magie, que Luna avait déjà eu l'occasion d'apercevoir. Toutefois, son occupant n'avait pas été en reste pour lui donner une allure plus que respectable – il misait vraisemblablement beaucoup sur l'apparence. Le regard de Luna s'attarda juste sur les nombreuses rangées de livres qui s'étalaient sur le pan de mur à leur gauche, puis son attention retourna vers les deux autres. Le reste ne l'intéressait pas réellement.Wyath s'installa derrière son bureau de bois blanc – la couleur pour le moins originale l'intrigua brièvement – et rechercha des documents qu'il mit peu de temps à trouver. Sur un signe de tête d'Hermione, Luna s'assit sur une des chaises face à lui, accompagnée d'Hermione qui en fit de même avec la seconde. Luna posa alors son sac sur ses genoux pour sortir cette fameuse liste, et les papiers contenant diverses informations sur les objets en question. Le silence perdura encore quelques secondes, seulement entrecoupé de bruits de feuilles que l'on manipulait, puis une voix grave s'éleva, sans qu'aucun visage ne se tourne vers elle :« Combien ? »« Quatre », répondit Luna, ce qui ne plut pas au Directeur car il leva la tête, les yeux agrandis de stupeur.« Quatre ?! Non mais vous vous foutez de moi ? Mais qu'est-ce que vous fou – »« Wyath, calme-toi », tempéra Hermione d'une voix douce mais ferme. « Nous ne pouvons pas le leur reprocher, nous ne nous portons guère mieux. »Cela valut à la brune une œillade intriguée de la part de Luna. Que voulait-elle dire par là ? Eux aussi avaient des vols à déplorer ? Et quel genre d'objets était concerné, pour qu'elle parle ainsi ?Et pourquoi les Nargoles étaient-ils ironiquement aussi nombreux dans un cas comme dans l'autre ?Wyath fronça les sourcils, secoua la tête, puis retourna à ses papiers en pestant. Il sortit rapidement quatre lots de parchemin pré-remplis avec un formulaire, la mine sombre.« C'est quand même drôle, il me semblait me souvenir de moins », ne put-il s'empêcher de lâcher, s'attirant un regard désapprobateur de sa supérieure.« L'un d'entre eux n'a disparu que cette nuit », précisa Luna, mais personne ne réagit à son intervention.Comme la Ministre s'impatientait, Wyath s'empressa de remplir le premier parchemin, à l'aide des informations fournies par la jeune femme. Tandis qu'il écrivait, elle en profita pour demander :« Vous avez eu des vols, au Ministère, vous aussi ? »La question tira un soupir à Hermione, et Luna devina aisément la réponse, mais attendit le détail. Il ne tarda pas à arriver :« Oui, et pas des moindres. Ce sont des Objets Magiques gardés sous scellés, dans l'attente de leur classement avant d'être transférés dans le secteur adéquat ou d'être détruits si besoin. Nous avons ouvert une enquête, mais autant dire qu'elle démarre mal – nous n'arrivons pas à comprendre comment les voleurs ont pu s'y prendre, c'est à peine croyable ! »« Oh, oui, j'imagine… Mais qu'est-ce qui a été volé ? »« Mmh ? Pas grand-chose », fit Hermione en fixant le parchemin qui se remplissait à vue d'œil sous l'injonction silencieuse du Directeur, dont la plume parcourait librement la page. « Deux Objets seulement. Mais ils font partis des Objets récupérés chez des Mangemorts, au sortir de la guerre. »Luna lui lança un regard éperdu.« Ils datent de tant de temps ? Mais pourquoi sont-ils encore en cours de classement, dans ce cas ? Ca fait plus de vingt ans, déjà ! »« Je sais. Mais il y avait beaucoup d'Objets. Même si la plupart a déjà été catégorisée, ce n'est pas encore terminé. Et puis, d'autres Objets ont également été récupérés, entre temps. »« Oh. »Luna ne trouva rien d'autre à ajouter, si ce n'était que la nature des Objets en eux-mêmes l'intriguait. Mais elle ne savait pas comment formuler sa question, et il y avait peu de chances qu'Hermione daigne lui répondre – après tout, ce n'étaient pas ses affaires, mais celles du Ministère, et elle n'était peut-être pas sensée en parler à n'importe qui. Quoique, une telle chose avait déjà dû passer dans la presse. Peut-être devrait-elle tenter de lui demander malgré tout, en fait.Elle ne put cependant pas s'en préoccuper davantage pour l'heure, car Wyath monopolisa toute son attention. Heureusement, cela ne dura pas trop longtemps, et bientôt, le Directeur et la Ministre co-signèrent les documents. Puis tous se levèrent.« Des enquêteurs seront envoyés sur place dans la journée », dit alors Wyath en plongeant son regard dans celui de Luna. « Dans le but de faciliter leur travail, le mieux serait de fermer provisoirement le Musée, mais peut-être est-ce déjà le cas ? »« Quand je suis partie, ça l'était ils n'avaient pas ouvert pour faciliter l'inventaire de l'ensemble des stocks. Mais je ne pense pas qu'il ait pu rouvrir entretemps, le directeur doit se douter que quelqu'un serait envoyé. »Wyath hocha juste la tête en réponse, puis se détourna des deux femmes. Hermione lui adressa un signe de tête pour le saluer, puis enjoignit Luna à la suivre. Elles sortirent du bureau, Hermione fermant derrière elle.« Bien, il me reste tout juste une demi-heure ! » s'exclama celle-ci en jetant un coup d'œil à l'heure.Autant pour les questions que Luna pouvait se poser. Hermione aurait à peine le temps de manger.« Tu veux m'accompagner ? » proposa-t-elle finalement, à la surprise de la blonde qui se demanda quelques secondes si la question avait réellement été posée.… Ou peut-être pas.« Je te suis », répondit Luna avec un sourire, bien qu'elle ne sache pas où – mais peu importait, de même ce qu'elle pourrait bien manger, du moment qu'elle pourrait lui parler.De toute façon, elle était déjà bien en retard pour le Musée – mais ils devaient s'en douter, étant en partie responsables – et c'était l'heure de la pause déjeuner. Pas la peine de se presser, donc, la concernant.Aussitôt, Hermione lui attrapa la main, et elles transplanèrent. Elles apparurent dans une large rue bien occupée par la foule, et plusieurs devantures de cafés, de boulangeries et de sandwicheries étaient visibles. Luna lui adressa un regard interrogateur, et Hermione crut bon d'expliquer :« Il y a bien une cafétéria au Ministère, mais elle est remplie à cette heure-ci, et je n'ai pas le temps. Dans ces cas-là, j'ai pris l'habitude de venir ici acheter un sandwich ou une salade et le manger prend beaucoup moins de temps. »Luna hocha la tête pour toute réponse, et suivit Hermione parmi la foule, jusqu'à une boulangerie. La file lui parut longue mais heureusement, l'attente fut de courte durée, lorsqu'elles parvinrent enfin devant les vitres derrière lesquelles étaient exposés les différents produits proposés. Le choix fut rapidement fait, et le paiement effectué.Tandis qu'elles s'éloignaient et déballaient leur casse-croûte, Hermione reprit la parole :« Alors ? Qu'est-ce que tu deviens, depuis la dernière fois ? C'était en janvier, je crois, tu partais pour une mission en Bulgarie, non ? »« Oui », s'enthousiasma Luna, replongeant dans ses souvenirs. « Nous ne sommes rentrés qu'hier, mais c'était génial ! »Tandis qu'elles dénichaient un banc un peu en retrait du flux de gens, elle se lança dans le récit de ces derniers mois, l'étude que Rolf et elle effectuaient pour le Muséum sur une sous-espèce de petits dragons récemment découverte, et leurs escapades dans les magnifiques paysages du massif. Cependant, elle n'oubliait pas qu'Hermione disposait d'un temps limité, et fut donc malgré tout assez brève – elle en dit juste suffisamment pour partager son enthousiasme avec elle.« Et toi ? Au fait, félicitations pour ta nomination, tu l'as clairement méritée ! »Hermione lui adressa un petit sourire accompagné d'un merci, avant de croquer une nouvelle fois dans son sandwich.« Je suppose que Ron doit être fier pour toi, également ! » rajouta Luna avec un air rêveur. « J'espère que tout va bien pour vous deux. »Pour toute réponse, Hermione lui jeta un regard surpris, avant de sembler se rappeler soudain de quelque chose. Luna eut la soudaine conviction qu'elle avait dit quelque chose qu'il ne fallait pas, ou bien qu'elle avait manqué quelque chose.« C'est vrai que tu n'es pas au courant, tu étais déjà partie », murmura Hermione à la surprise de son amie, avant de hausser le ton : « Ron et moi sommes divorcés. »Dire que Luna était surprise était un doux euphémisme. Elle n'aurait jamais cru que ces deux-là… enfin… c'étaient eux, quoi !« Mais-mais pourquoi ? » fit Luna, pour le moins accablée – elle avait vraiment manqué plein de choses, ce n'était pas possible autrement !Comment avaient-ils pu en venir à se séparer ?Hermione haussa les épaules pour toute réponse.« C'est… c'est difficile à dire. Ça ne se passait pas mal entre eux, au contraire, mais… il n'y a plus ce que… nous ressentions l'un pour l'autre. En fait, c'est comme si nous ne nous considérions plus que comme des amis. Je ne sais… nous en avons discuté, plusieurs fois, et nous avons finalement choisi de mettre fin à notre mariage. Mais c'était purement à l'amiable ! »« Et ça fait combien de temps ? » parvint à souffler Luna, encore sous le choc.De tous les couples formés après la guerre contre Voldemort, elle pensait jusqu'alors qu'il s'agissait certainement de l'un des plus solides, avec Harry et Ginny – de sorte qu'ils resteraient ensemble toute leur vie. Comme quoi elle avait eu tort.« Nous sommes divorcés depuis avril. »Luna acquiesça, et mordilla silencieusement son sandwich. Elle n'en revenait toujours pas. Elle ne l'avait vraiment pas vu venir. Et surtout, elle n'en avait entendu parler à aucun moment !« Sinon », continua Hermione après un toussotement gêné, « tout se passe bien de notre côté. Personnellement, j'ai été très occupée ces derniers mois avec la campagne électorale. Enfin, bien… c'est sans compter l'affaire des Mangemorts évadés. Je suppose que tu en as entendu parler ? »Luna hocha la tête. Oui, brièvement, par des collègues de travail, qui avaient manifesté leur inquiétude à ce sujet.« Ils n'ont pas fait trop de dégâts, j'espère ? » s'inquiéta-t-elle, mais Hermione secoua la tête.« On suppose que non. Je ne sais pas si tu en as entendu parler, mais il y a quelques jours, un intense éclat de lumière a illuminé le centre de Londres pendant quelques secondes, et des rayonnements électromagnétiques dans le spectre des ultraviolets ont été mesurés dans le même temps et ont disparu. On ne sait pas vraiment l'expliquer, mais comme il se trouve que les Aurors ont finalement réussi à attraper les Mangemorts dans ce coin-là peu de temps après, on les suspecte très fortement d'en être responsables, bien qu'ils nient. Le Bureau d'enquête cherche actuellement à déterminer le but de cette manœuvre et ses conséquences, mais pour le moment ils n'ont rien trouvé – mais il est encore un peu tôt pour conclure que quoiqu'ils aient tenté de faire, cela a échoué. Sinon, rien d'autre, ils se faisaient plutôt discrets. »« Oh. Eh bien, tant mieux, je veux dire… s'ils n'ont pas fait de victimes. »Hermione soupira.« Tu l'as dit… Enfin, heureusement, cette affaire est résolue. Et maintenant, ces vols… Quelle malchance ! »Luna ne répondit rien. Cependant, ces quelques mots lui rappelèrent les Objets volés, et la question concernant les deux du Ministère. Elle ne savait pas pourquoi, mais elle avait l'impression étrange que les vols au Musée et au Ministère étaient liés. Pourtant, hormis les Nargoles en surnombre – ce qui ne relevait en aucun cas d'une indication exploitable pour les autres – rien ne permettait de relier les deux affaires.« Au fait, quels sont ces Objets volés au Ministère ? Si ce n'est pas trop indiscret. »Hermione regarda tout d'abord l'heure sans répondre. Dix minutes. Elle émit un énième soupir, avala le dernier morceau de sandwich qui lui restait et s'essuya la bouche en haussant les épaules.« Eh bien, je suppose que ce n'est pas un secret, vu que la presse est déjà au courant… », fit Hermione d'un ton amer, mais Luna savait que sa colère n'était pas dirigée contre elle. « Comme je te l'ai déjà dit, ce sont des Objets qui ont été récupérés peu après la chute de Voldemort chez des Mangemorts. Le premier est un anneau en fer noir constitué de deux serpents entortillés autour d'une branche de ronce, que l'on a retrouvé chez Rabastan Lestrange. Le second est un immense miroir retrouvé chez Antonin Dolohov. Nous ne savons pas à quoi ils peuvent bien servir. »Malgré que ces descriptions faisaient à peine écho en elle, elle sentit son corps se glacer, comme si cela signait une très mauvaise nouvelle pour eux. En un sens, c'était le cas – personne ne savait de quoi ces objets étaient capables – mais elle avait l'impression que cela avait à voir avec certains des objets volés au Muséum.« Je… aurais-tu des… images, de ces objets ? »« Pourquoi faire ? » demanda Hermione en la fixant d'un air étrange.Luna se mordit l'intérieur des joues, ne sachant pas quoi dire. Elle savait que si elle parlait dès à présent de son impression, des rassemblements de Nargoles auxquels personne ne croyait, elle lui rirait juste au nez, et elle-même ne serait pas plus avancée. Cependant, et heureusement, Hermione n'insista pas, bien que son regard semblât se faire plus acéré. Elle sortit un bout de parchemin et, d'un coup de baguette, y fit apparaitre des représentations issues de son esprit, qu'elle tendit ensuite à Luna. L'anneau et le miroir y figuraient tous deux.Hermione se leva.« Je suis désolée, je dois y aller. La réunion commence dans moins de cinq minutes. Passe le bonjour à Rolf de ma part, et à plus tard ! J'ai été heureuse de te revoir, surtout après tout ce temps. »Puis elle transplana, laissant Luna seule derrière elle, assise sur le banc. Le regard éperdument fixé sur les deux schémas qui ne lui disaient rien, et qui en même temps lui évoquaient quelque chose. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- « Bien ! Ceci étant fait ! »Luna abandonna les objets qu'elle venait de répertorier et commença à s'avancer parmi les étagères. Un premier arrivage leur était parvenu plus tôt dans la matinée et, aidée de plusieurs de ses collègues, elle était depuis lors en charge de vérifier chaque objet, leur identification, les informations relatives à ces derniers et leur conformité. C'était un travail long et fastidieux que Luna n'appréciait pas particulièrement, mais qu'elle savait nécessaire. Et puis, ce n'était l'histoire que de quelques jours. Ensuite viendrait le réaménagement complet du Musée, mais cet aspect-là du travail n'était pas vraiment de son ressort, et elle pourrait dès lors se pencher sur la rédaction de son étude.Toutefois, elle ne pouvait nier à elle-même que cela tombait plutôt bien. Elle se trouvait ainsi dans les salles de pré-stockage, comprises dans la réserve du Musée. Or, c'était justement là qu'elle souhaitait se rendre depuis la veille.L'histoire de ces Objets disparus, et de ces Nargoles curieusement présents en trop grand nombre sur les lieux des forfaits, la laissaient pour le moins assez stupéfaite et l'intriguaient. Elle sentait également de l'inquiétude se répandre lentement en elle, même si elle ne comprenait pas ce dernier point. Rien de particulièrement alarmant ne s'était produit jusqu'alors, pourtant. Quoique… peut-être était-ce ce léger doute qu'elle avait eu en lisant l'identité des Objets volés. Elle ne savait pas pourquoi, mais cela lui avait évoqué quelque chose. Et forcément, ce devait être quelque chose de mauvais. Et puis, il y avait aussi eu cet accès d'agressivité inexpliqué chez les Nargoles, même s'il avait été isolé.Et donc, il lui fallait découvrir le fin mot de l'histoire.Bien que le Muséum fût essentiellement consacré aux Créatures Magiques, sa réserve comportait également plusieurs ouvrages un peu en marge de son domaine de prédilection – c'est-à-dire tout ce qui avait trait aux Créatures Magiques, bien évidemment, que ce fût de près ou de loin, et même parfois lorsque seuls quelques chapitres en parlaient véritablement. Cependant, certains restaient tout de même très éloignés du sujet. Elle ne savait pas comment le Muséum avait pu en faire l'acquisition, et peut-être même l'ancien directeur non plus, d'ailleurs. Mais de ce fait, ils restaient un peu à l'oubli parmi les étagères, avec pour seule occupation celle d'agglomérer la poussière. Pourtant, ils auraient dû être cédés depuis longtemps – cela avait été prévu, à un moment, et elle se demandait ce qu'ils faisaient encore là. Mais peut-être qu'avec le réaménagement, cela n'allait pas tarder.Elle atteignit cette partie de la réserve en une dizaine de minutes. Elle parcourut des yeux les reliures, après en avoir retiré la poussière d'un sort informulé. Comme elle cherchait quelque chose qui évoquait les Objets Magiques, elle sauta de nombreux ouvrages, se contentant de feuilleter les plus prometteurs. Mais après un quart d'heure de ce manège, elle n'avait toujours rien trouvé. Ce n'était –« Tu cherches quelque chose en particulier ? »Luna sursauta et se retourna, rattrapant de justesse le parchemin qu'elle avait déplié et qu'elle avait failli laisser tomber. Une jeune femme d'une trentaine d'années, petite et aux cheveux bruns tenus en un chignon épais, lui faisait face, l'air intrigué et la tête légèrement penchée. Elle ne lui évoqua rien du tout.« Oh, je… », hésita-t-elle, se demandant alors brièvement si elle avait le droit d'être là, avant de se rappeler aussitôt qu'elle travaillait dans le Musée et que ce secteur ne disposait pas de restrictions particulières. « En fait, je cherche… un ouvrage portant sur les Objets Magiques, et, euh… »Sauf qu'en réalité, elle n'était même pas sûre qu'un tel ouvrage fût bien ici, et si ça se trouvait, aucun des Objets auxquels elle pensait n'avait de lien avec les Créa – mais si, les Objets volés au Musée !La jeune femme lui renvoya un regard sceptique, mais elle haussa ensuite les épaules après quelques secondes.« Eh bien, tu n'es pas sur les bonnes étagères. C'est quatre étagères plus loin devant toi, sur ta gauche. C'est par rapport aux Objets qui ont été dérobés ? »Luna tourna la tête vers les étagères désignées, mais elles n'avaient rien de particulier à cette distance. Quelques secondes passèrent avant qu'elle ne se contente d'acquiescer, songeuse. Elle reposa le parchemin inutile à sa place.« Oh. Eh bien… j'espère que cette histoire sera vite résolue ! » lâcha la jeune femme après un petit temps d'hésitation, ne sachant que dire d'autre.« Oui. Oui, ce serait bien… »L'air absent et le silence de Luna mirent la jeune femme mal à l'aise, et cette dernière finit par toussoter. Mais avant qu'elle n'ait pu ajouter autre chose, Luna se retourna vers elle avec un petit sourire.« Merci ! »Son interlocutrice en fut surprise, mais elle lui rendit tout de même son sourire.« Oh, eh bien, de rien… Bonne journée ! »Puis elle partit dans l'autre direction, laissant Luna à ses interrogations muettes. Finalement, peut-être lui disait-elle vaguement quelque chose. Elle avait déjà dû la croiser auparavant.Mais la jeune femme fut bientôt balayée de son esprit, tandis qu'elle se dirigeait vers l'endroit indiqué. Il ne lui fallut que quelques secondes pour se pencher sur les titres, et se rendre rapidement compte que l'autre femme – dont elle se souvenait enfin du visage, mais toujours pas du nom – avait raison. Cet endroit semblait bien plus prometteur.Luna vérifia rapidement l'heure, et grimaça en s'apercevant que l'heure de la pause-déjeuner était déjà bien entamée. Avant d'hausser les épaules, résignée. Ce n'était pas comme si ce serait le premier repas qu'elle sauterait.Il fallut tout de même feuilleter plusieurs documents pour enfin en trouver un qui décrivait certains Objets volés qui appartenaient au Musée. Mais il ne lui apprit rien qu'elle ne savait déjà… Jusqu'à tomber sur les paragraphes consacrés à deux Objets en particulier. Les deux Objets qui, ensemble, avaient fait écho en elle. Après les explications de leurs utilisations respectives en tant qu'entités seules – c'est-à-dire pas grand-chose, ou du moins rien d'inquiétant ou presque – elle lut les quelques phrases consacrées à leur utilisation conjointe. C'est-à-dire pas grand-chose non plus.Presque rien, en fait. Il y avait juste une référence d'un autre document – un livre, très certainement –, avec la page et le numéro de paragraphe, tout en précisant qu'ils intervenaient dans la genèse d'un sort avec d'autres Objets. Mais comme ce n'était pas le propos de l'ouvrage, il ne prenait même pas la peine d'en faire ne serait-ce qu'un résumé. Dommage… Je ne sais même pas si c'est l'information que je recherche… Dubitative, elle préféra néanmoins noter la référence. Après tout, si elle tombait dessus, par hasard…Ce ne fut pas le cas, et elle ne trouva rien d'autre sur le sujet – les seuls documents parlaient juste des informations usuelles qu'elle avait déjà en sa possession, et aucun ne parlait des Objets du Ministère. La pause-déjeuner touchait donc à sa fin lorsqu'elle referma le dernier parchemin et le reposa, et elle n'en ressortit que plus frustrée.Ce n'était donc pas ici qu'elle trouverait les informations qu'elle recherchait. Elle avait tout juste récolté la référence d'un livre, sans connaitre sa réelle utilité. Elle n'avait plus qu'à aller voir ailleurs – et le premier endroit où elle pourrait se rendre était la Bibliothèque de la Magie de Londres. Peut-être aurait-elle plus de succès et pourrait-elle trouver ce livre. Mais pour cela, il lui faudrait attendre la fin de la journée, au moins.Luna lâcha un soupir, et fit demi-tour pour retourner à sa tâche interminable et ennuyeuse.xoxo« Tu veux aller à la bibliothèque, à cette heure ?! »« Quand voudrais-tu que j'y aille, sinon ? »Luna avait attendu impatiemment la fin de la journée pour mettre sa résolution à exécution, mais elle avait juste oublié un léger détail. Son mari. Et le fait qu'à aucun moment, elle ne l'avait prévenu de son entreprise. Ce qui expliquait leur situation actuelle : figés devant la haute stature du bâtiment après que Rolf se fût arrêté, lorsqu'elle lui avait enfin dit où elle souhaitait se rendre.Et il la regardait comme si cette envie lui était venue de manière soudaine, comme ça, et qu'il se demandait bien pourquoi. Mais quel était donc le problème ?« Mais j-je ne sais pas, mais… pourquoi maintenant ? »« Parce que j'ai besoin d'y aller ! Il n'y a rien ici, donc si – »« Attends, comment ça il n'y a rien ici ? C'est pour notre étude ? »Luna cligna des yeux en l'observant. Pourquoi se mettrait-elle à chercher quelque chose sans même l'en avertir, alors qu'ils travaillaient dessus ensemble ?« Non… En fait, ça n'a rien à voir, c'est juste que, quand j'ai vu la liste des Objets volés, et ceux volés au Ministère – »« Comment, ils ont été volés, eux aussi ?! »« Oh, Rolf ! » fit-elle avec un sourire attendri, levant la main pour lui caresser la joue du bout des doigts.Il était adorable. Il avait été tellement pris par la commande du Muséum qu'il n'avait pas dû avoir l'occasion de lire la presse. Pourtant, ça avait dû jaser parmi les collègues de travail.Quoique, elle-même n'en avait pas entendu parler de son côté. Elle ne l'aurait certainement pas su non plus si Hermione ne l'en avait pas informé la veille.« Oui. Deux Objets », finit-elle par répondre d'une voix distraite. « Et donc, quand j'ai vu cette liste, ça m'a évoqué quelque chose qui relierait certains d'entre eux, et je souhaitais retrouver cela dans un document. Et puis, tous ces Nargoles à proximité, ce n'est pas normal ! Plus le temps passe, plus je me dis qu'ils doivent avoir un lien avec tout ça, ces vols, mais pourquoi ? »Elle ne se rendit pas compte, mais le visage de son mari s'était légèrement fermé à l'évocation des créatures imaginaires connues des seuls Lovegood. Indubitablement, à partir de là, il n'accorda plus de sérieux à ses paroles. Il soupira, dépité.« Oh, et… que comptes-tu donc chercher, à la bibliothèque ? »Encore dans ses pensées, Luna ne perçut pas son ton dubitatif. A peine avait-elle entendu la question, et elle mit quelques secondes avant de lui répondre distraitement :« Mmh ? Le lien entre les Objets volés, bien sûr ! »Rolf haussa un sourcil, lui renvoyant un regard blasé.« Tu sais, c'est le rôle des enquêteurs, ça. Et je ne vois pas ce que cela t'apporterait. »« Quoi ? »Les yeux de Luna s'agrandirent à la phrase de son mari, d'autant qu'il arborait à présent une moue presque crispée. Elle ne comprenait pas. Où était donc le problème ? Elle n'interférait en aucun cas avec leur enquête ! Elle voulait juste comprendre pourquoi ces Objets lui évoquaient une chose dont elle ne parvenait pas à se souvenir, pourquoi ils avaient été volés les uns après les autres, pourquoi les Nargoles…Les Nargoles. Luna déglutit faiblement, soudain quelque peu peinée. Il était là, le problème. Il ne croyait pas aux Nargoles. Dès qu'elle avait prononcé ce mot magique, il n'avait plus pris ses paroles au sérieux. Il ne la croyait pas. Pire, il considérait donc ses recherches comme inutiles, voire comme une perte de temps. Il avait suffi de ce simple petit mot pour balayer tout crédit à ses propos, et, bien qu'elle fût habituée à ce que personne ne la croit concernant leur existence, pour la première fois cela l'affecta. Jusqu'alors, cet état de fait n'avait eu aucune conséquence, ce n'était donc pas bien grave ; mais cela ne l'était peut-être plus aujourd'hui. Mais pourquoi était-elle donc la seule à se rendre compte de leur présence ?Elle secoua la tête pour chasser ces pensées sous l'œil légèrement contrarié de son mari. Apercevant le visage de sa femme s'assombrir légèrement et son regard se faire quelque peu distant, ce dernier finit toutefois par soupirer en se détendant, et il haussa les épaules, décidant de ne pas pousser plus loin cette partie-là de la discussion.« Bien, je suppose que tant que tu auras ça en tête… Tu penses que cela te prendra beaucoup de temps ? »Luna leva les yeux vers lui, reconnaissante et préférant reléguer la légère amertume qui embrumait son esprit dans un coin éloigné de sa tête. Après tout, le scepticisme de son mari pouvait facilement s'expliquer, et elle songea qu'au stade actuel des choses, il était sans doute normal pour lui de ne pas penser autrement – rien à voir avec une question de confiance. Il lui était pour l'heure difficile d'impliquer les Nargoles dans ces vols ! Et puis, au moins lui épargnait-il un discours pour la dissuader de continuer sur sa lancée, et au moins la respectait-il suffisamment pour la laisser constater par elle-même, quitte à ce qu'elle ne trouve rien au final. Mais elle devait au moins explorer cette piste, quitte à se tromper – et peut-être avait-il en partie raison, peut-être n'était-ce qu'un hasard et peut-être que les Nargoles n'avaient strictement rien à voir là-dedans, pour le peu qu'elle en savait. Elle avait passé sa journée à ne penser presque qu'à ça, ce qui avait rendu l'exécution de son travail laborieuse, malgré qu'il eût nécessité toute son attention. Mais il fallait qu'elle sache.« Je ne sais pas », finit-elle par avouer, mais il hocha la tête, s'attendant vraisemblablement à cette réponse.Il prit un air quelque peu gêné, et regarda par-dessus l'épaule de sa femme une seconde avant de le reporter vers elle.« Bon, eh bien… tu seras de retour pour le diner ? »« Mmh ? Oui, bien sûr ! »Il lui adressa un léger sourire amusé. Il savait qu'elle le pensait vraiment mais parfois, souvent même, elle pouvait être tant immergée dans ce qu'elle faisait qu'elle ne se rendait même pas compte du temps qui passait – après tout, il la comprenait, cela lui arrivait souvent aussi. Et il était sûr qu'avec le type de recherche qu'elle voulait effectuer – et qui se solderait certainement par un échec – ce serait très certainement le cas.Il s'avança alors vers elle, parcourant les quelques centimètres qui les séparaient, pour venir poser ses lèvres sur les siennes. Elle répondit à son baiser, et après quelques secondes, il se sépara d'elle.« A ce soir dans ce cas ! »Sur ces mots, il transplana, et il ne fallut pas plus de quelques secondes pour que Luna en fasse de même.Elle apparut devant le large bâtiment occupé par la Bibliothèque. Elle ne jeta pas même un coup d'œil à la façade au style ancien et entra.Comme lorsqu'elle pénétrait dans le Musée, le silence l'enveloppa aussitôt. Aucun bruit ne se faisait entendre, si ce n'était quelques rares chuchotements et les bruits de parchemins manipulés par la femme de l'accueil. Luna se dirigea aussitôt vers elle. Autant commencer par l'ouvrage dont elle avait récupéré la référence – en espérant qu'il y fût.« Bonjour ! » la salua-t-elle avec un sourire en sortant le bout griffonné de son sac à main.« Bonjour », lui répondit l'hôtesse de la même façon, levant les yeux de sa précédente occupation par la même occasion.« Excusez-moi de vous déranger ainsi, mais je recherche un ouvrage. J'ai la référence, mais je ne sais pas si vous disposez d'un exemplaire. »« Quel est-il ? » fit la femme en tendant la main pour saisir le papier que lui fournit Luna.Après quelques secondes de silence, l'hôtesse déclara, les sourcils froncés :« Veuillez patienter quelques minutes, je vous prie. »Elle se leva alors son siège, et quitta l'accueil pour se diriger vers une porte à l'accès fermé au public, quelques mètres plus loin. Luna la suivit des yeux jusqu'à ce qu'elle disparaisse de son champ de vision, pour se tourner ensuite vers les parchemins éparpillés devant elle d'un air distrait. Mais comme ils n'avaient strictement rien d'intéressant, elle préféra lever le regard vers le plafond. Et elle attendit.Elle ne sut combien de temps cela dura, lorsqu'elle entendit quelqu'un l'interpeller et toussoter près d'elle, la tirant de ses pensées par la même occasion. C'était l'hôtesse d'accueil qui était revenue.« Vous avez de la chance, nous l'avons dans nos rayonnages – l'ancien était endommagé, nous avons reçu cet exemplaire la semaine dernière ! »Luna acquiesça pour toute réponse, et marcha à sa suite parmi les méandres des rayonnages. La Bibliothèque de Magie de Londres était réputée pour l'incroyable diversité d'ouvrages dont elle disposait, et qui constituait une collection impressionnante. S'il n'avait pas été là, Luna n'aurait pas su où aller le chercher – il lui aurait fallu se rendre dans une autre Bibliothèque de réputation semblable, mais elle aurait dû aller à l'étranger pour cela.L'hôtesse s'arrêta au bout de quelques minutes devant des étagères de livres reliés, et Luna faillit buter contre elle. Son interlocutrice ne semblait pas s'en être rendu compte, car sans la regarder, elle tendit le bras pour saisir un livre épais à la couverture rouge sombre et sobre. Seul le titre figurait sur la tranche du livre et la première de couverture. Elle se tourna seulement à cet instant vers elle, pour le lui donner.« Le voici ! »« Oh ! Merci ! » fit Luna en le récupérant.Elle prit quelques secondes pour le soupeser. Il était vraiment lourd. En fait, elle en vint rapidement à le tenir des deux mains.« De rien ! Bonne lecture ! » répondit cordialement l'hôtesse avant de s'en aller.Pour sa part, Luna se dirigea vers l'une des tables disposées dans la grande salle, la première qu'elle trouva. Elle posa le livre et s'assit aussi sec pour l'ouvrir aussitôt, cherchant la page et le paragraphe indiqués sur sa note.Au-dessus du paragraphe, l'intitulé en donna le sujet, qui fit froncer les sourcils de Luna. Il parlait d'un sort en particulier, un sort qui lui disait vaguement quelque chose sans qu'elle n'y eût jamais accordé d'importance. Ses yeux glissèrent donc vers le texte en suivant.Il parla alors des Objets. Il en évoquait sept, les sept nécessaires à la genèse de ce sort. Elle reconnut tout d'abord les deux Objets volés au Musée, puis après la description de trois autres Objets qui ne lui disaient rien, elle hoqueta en reconnaissant les deux derniers, et elle vérifia la correspondance avec les schémas fournis par Hermione. C'étaient les deux Objets volés au Ministère ! Il n'y avait pas de doute possible ces vols avaient bien un lien, et n'étaient en rien anodins – malgré la multitude d'objets inutiles subtilisés en annexe.Mais pourquoi les Nargoles s'intéresseraient-ils donc à ce sort ?Elle tâcha donc de comprendre la fonction de ce sort. Sauf que… eh bien, le problème était qu'il n'était pas très bien connu. Tout ce qui semblait être sûr était que son lancement aurait des dommages collatéraux considérables – rien de moins que la destruction de l'endroit à partir duquel il serait lancé ! Et donc, par déduction, les auteurs pensaient que c'était là son but.Cela la fit hausser les sourcils, et elle fut soudain saisie d'un doute. Ce n'était pas possible, quel intérêt pourrait avoir les Nargoles à détruire un endroit ? Ils étaient malicieux et espiègles, certes, mais cela s'arrêtait là ! Malgré cela, et même si elle se demandait si cela en valait véritablement la peine, elle continua sa lecture pour investiguer davantage. Il valait mieux se tromper, mais savait-on jamais.Et en fait, elle aurait rapidement abandonné la lecture, si elle n'avait pas vu tout aussi rapidement que le but du sort était en réalité sujet à débat : car même si la plupart pensait que le sort était une sorte d'arme de destruction, ce n'était pas le cas de tous – même s'ils n'avaient aucune idée de ce que cela pouvait être d'autre. Mais peut-être que le reste lui permettrait d'émettre des hypothèses. Elle lut donc rapidement les quelques informations suivantes, malheureusement peu fournies. Mais une en particulier l'interpella, et la glaça aussitôt tandis qu'elle la lisait : comme le sort nécessitait la réunion d'Objets magiques, un cercle devait préalablement être mis en place pour établir le lien entre eux et le stabiliser, et ainsi permettre le lancement du sort à cet endroit. Or, lors de sa création, il était évoqué l'émission d'une puissante énergie accompagné d'un éclat lumineux intense de courte durée. Et forcément, cela lui fit penser à cet incident survenu quelques jours plus tôt, en plein centre de Londres.Trop de coïncidences. Trop de choses lui faisaient suspecter les Nargoles, et tout allait dans ce sens – l'absence de preuves, de suspect, de traces d'effraction ou d'une quelconque magie utilisée ! Et puis, cet éclat de lumière… Hermione avait beau avoir accusé les Mangemorts d'en être responsables, ils n'avaient l'ombre d'une idée pour justifier son apparition, sa brièveté, et l'absence de conséquences – les mages noirs pouvaient s'être juste trouvés là au mauvais endroit au mauvais moment, c'était tout à fait probable !Luna ferma les yeux quelques secondes et réfléchit. En ramenant bout à bout toutes les informations dont elle disposait, une seule conclusion s'imposa à elle : les Nargoles s'apprêtaient à détruire Londres !La surprise et l'effroi la firent bondir de sa chaise, dont les pieds raclèrent le sol et émirent un bruit sonore qui attira plusieurs regards agacés. Mais Luna n'en avait cure, et ne s'en rendit d'ailleurs même pas compte. Les Nargoles allaient détruire Londres !Frissonnant encore de cette découverte, elle se rassit en saisissant un parchemin vierge de son sac – elle en conservait toujours quelques-uns sur elle, au cas où – et lança un sort pour copier l'ensemble du paragraphe – tout ce qui avait trait à ce sort, en fait. Elle feuilleta rapidement le livre pour voir si d'autres informations ne seraient pas disséminées parmi les pages, mais il semblerait que non. Elle finit donc par le refermer, avant de retourner le remettre à sa place, le cœur battant.Les Nargoles allaient détruire Londres. Mais pourquoi ? Bien qu'elle ait toujours été méfiante en leur présence, leurs agissements s'étaient toujours limités à des sortes de farces, pas vraiment drôles mais sans conséquences majeures – du moins pas très graves. Mais ça ! Comment avaient-ils pu en venir à de telles extrémités ?! Dans quel but ? Ce n'était pas comme si les humains représentaient un danger pour eux, presque personne ne soupçonnait leur existence !Elle fit demi-tour, et s'empressa de gagner la sortie. Elle devait en parler à quelqu'un. Mais qui ? Qui pourrait l'aider ? Elle ne savait pas du tout quoi faire ! Peut-être la réponse était-elle dans la copie qu'elle avait faite ? Il devait forcément exister un moyen de contrer ce sort, aussi puissant fût-il !L'air frais du soir qui tombait la refroidit aussitôt, et elle serra davantage son manteau contre elle. Elle devait en parler à Hermione. Après tout, elle était Ministre de la Magie, elle devait savoir où se trouvaient les trois Objets restants, et aurait les moyens de les mettre hors de portée des Nargoles. Ou tout du moins, de les protéger pour empêcher leur vol.Toute à ses pensées, elle ne se rendit pas compte qu'elle s'était mise à marcher sans prendre de direction précise, alors qu'elle aurait pu directement transplaner chez elle. Peut-être pourrait-elle en parler à Harry, aussi. En tant que Directeur du Bureau des Aurors, il avait certainement connaissance des deux enquêtes et serait en mesure de prendre les dispositions nécessaires pour empêcher les futurs vols. Et Wyath X, l'homme avec Hermione… Il serait certainement le plus à même de gérer cela, mais elle ne savait pas vraiment comment le contacter. A moins de se rendre au Ministère, jusqu'à son bureau ?Il fallut qu'elle se cogne contre quelqu'un pour qu'enfin, pendant quelques secondes du moins, elle émerge de ses pensées et réalise sa localisation actuelle. Dévisageant avec incrédulité les alentours, les gens, et les devantures de quelques boutiques et de nombreux appartements, elle dut prendre sur elle pour se ressaisir, pour ensuite exécuter son transplanage et réapparaitre juste devant chez elle.Et tandis qu'elle refermait la porte derrière elle, elle retourna à ses réflexions. Le plus facile serait de contacter Harry ou Hermione – étant des amis de longue date, ils se voyaient régulièrement. Mais elle devait les voir, ou au moins l'un d'entre eux – qui tacherait de relayer l'information à l'autre, l'amitié du Trio d'Or ne s'était pas tari, loin de là – et ce, le plus tôt possible. Le lendemain serait l'idéal.Après tout, elle n'avait aucune idée de quand ils comptaient exécuter leur plan.« Tu es déjà rentrée ? »Elle leva la tête pour croiser le regard surpris de son mari, et hocha juste la tête en sa direction. Il en parut heureux, et disparut aussitôt de son champ de vision en s'exclamant :« Tu arrives pile à temps, le diner est prêt ! »Luna s'avança jusque dans la salle à manger, où la table était déjà dressée. Elle eut à peine le temps de cligner des yeux que Rolf réapparut avec deux assiettes, qu'il déposa devant elle. Tous deux prirent place.« Alors, tu as trouvé ce que tu voulais ? » fit-il en prenant ses couverts.Luna ne sut que répondre. D'un côté, oui, elle avait trouvé, mais d'un autre, c'était une catastrophe. Et elle ne savait pas si elle devait lui en parler. Surtout qu'elle se sentait si fatiguée, tout à coup. Il lui fallait parler urgemment à Hermione ou Harry, mais comment ? Devait-elle leur envoyer un hibou pour cela ? Elle ne pouvait décemment pas leur avouer une telle chose par voix écrite ! Et si les Nargoles interceptaient le message, qui plus est ? Peut-être la surveillaient-ils ? Car après tout, s'ils l'avaient frappé la veille, ce devait bien être parce qu'ils la considéraient comme une sorte de menace !« Je suppose que j'ai eu ma réponse… », finit-elle toutefois par lâcher en triturant son entrée, avant d'avaler une bouchée.Il sembla considérer sa réponse comme un aveu d'une recherche non concluante, et hocha juste la tête. Apparemment, une autre réponse l'aurait pris au dépourvu.Le sujet fut clos, et ils mangèrent en silence, jusqu'à ce que Rolf reprenne :« Au fait, tu te rappelles de ma réunion de demain ? »« Quelle réunion ? »Ah zut, si elle se mettait à oublier les réunions du travail… Et le lendemain soir ne l'arrangeait réellement pas !« Demain soir, pour l'étude sur les basilics de Yougoslavie. »Ah. Comme elle n'y avait pas participé, cela expliquait son ignorance. Tout simplement parce qu'elle n'avait rien à voir là-dedans, et n'avait donc pas été impliquée.Tout en se remémorant lentement cette étude, elle fronça les sourcils.« Mais elle commence à dater, cela fait presque un an que tu l'as achevée ! Pourquoi donc avez-vous une réunion là-dessus ? »« Un Congrès est organisé dans trois mois à Helsinki, en Finlande, et je dois réaliser une présentation de cette étude. Le directeur veut en discuter avec quelques collaborateurs. Mais cela risque de prendre du temps, il y aura même un buffet d'organisé. »« Oh ! Donc, tu ne reviendras pas pour diner ? »« Non. Je ne sais même pas pour quelle heure je serai rentré. Je ne t'en avais pas déjà parlé ? »« Maintenant que tu le dis, peut-être que si… »Mais elle était incapable de s'en souvenir. Pourtant, cela lui semblait logique, Rolf l'avertissait toujours de ce genre de choses bien à l'avance.Cela voulait donc dire qu'elle passerait la soirée seule… peut-être devrait-elle proposer à Hermione de diner ensemble ? Etant désormais divorcée et ses enfants étant scolarisés à Poudlard, elle devait être seule chez elle. Et ce serait l'occasion parfaite de lui parler de vive voix de ce qu'elle avait découvert.La fin du repas fut un peu plus animé, et la magie les affranchit de passer du temps en cuisine pour tout nettoyer. Forte de sa nouvelle résolution, elle ne perdit pas de temps et partit chercher leur hibou pour le ramener dans leur chambre, avant de rédiger une lettre à l'adresse de son amie. Elle attacha le parchemin à la patte du volatile, et ouvrit la fenêtre seulement pour le laisser s'envoler, puis referma derrière lui. Ce fut à ce moment-là que son mari entra dans la pièce malgré qu'il vit son geste, il ne l'interrogea pas là-dessus, se contenta de lui sourire et entreprit de se déshabiller avant de se coucher.Luna en fit de même l'instant d'après, et ferma les yeux en posant la tête sur son oreiller, ignorant la lumière diffuse de la lampe que Rolf venait d'allumer. Il avait pris l'habitude de toujours lire un peu avant de s'endormir, et généralement, elle en faisait de même, mais pas ce jour-là. Car elle ne le pouvait tout simplement pas : les événements récents, et la découverte de la journée, ne cessaient de repasser dans sa tête. A tel point qu'elle croyait ne pas être capable de s'endormir, également stressée par la possible réponse de son amie – elle pouvait toujours avoir quelque chose de prévu, suite à ses nouvelles responsabilités. Malgré tout, il ne fallut pas tant de temps que cela pour qu'elle sombrât dans le sommeil.xoxoLuna n'aurait jamais pensé entrer en ces lieux mais en même temps, elle n'avait jamais songé à une telle éventualité. Elle laissa son regard errer quelques secondes sur la porte ouvragée qui lui faisait face, avant d'enfin signaler sa présence – l'espèce de bouton à sa droite devait bien faire office de sonnette, non ?Elle n'entendit rien de là où elle se tenait, et n'eut donc sa réponse que lorsque la porte s'ouvrit finalement pour laisser le passage à son hôte. Hermione lui sourit.« Luna ! Tu arrives pile à l'heure ! Entre donc ! »Luna la remercia et entra donc tandis que la jeune femme s'écartait pour la laisser passer, avant de refermer la porte d'un coup de baguette. Luna la regarda à peine, trop occupée à scruter les lieux avec intérêt. Ce n'était pas tous les jours que l'on avait le loisir d'entrer dans les appartements de fonction du Ministre de la Magie.« Allons dans le salon nous rafraichir un peu ! Par contre – »« Luna ! »« Harry ? »Face aux deux femmes se tenaient Harry Potter et sa femme Ginny, les mines radieuses.« Je leur ai également proposé de venir, j'espère que cela ne te dérange pas ? » fit alors Hermione en se mordillant légèrement la lèvre, gênée.« Bien sûr que non, voyons ! Je suis tellement heureuse de vous voir ! » s'écria Luna à l'adresse des deux nouveaux venus, tandis que deux bras vinrent l'enlacer.« Oh, Luna ! » s'exclama Ginny, son visage illuminé tourné vers elle. « Cela fait si longtemps que nous ne t'avons pas vu ! Comment s'est déroulée ton étude ? Hermione m'en a touché quelques mots, mais je veux tous les détails ! Comment c'était ? »Luna entreprit donc d'expliquer le détail de ses derniers mois pendant que tous se dirigeaient vers le grand salon. En son centre trônait une grande table élégante en bois sombre. Les apéritifs étaient déjà servis.« Cet appartement est si grand ! » s'exclama alors Luna, interrompant son récit par la même occasion. « Et tu y vis vraiment toute seule ? »« Oui. Enfin, je suppose que ça se remplira lorsque les enfants rentreront pour les vacances. »« Et Ron ? »« Nous avons choisi une garde alternée. Nous nous sommes déjà arrangés pour les prochaines vacances. »« Oh. D'accord. Mais… et la maison que vous aviez achetée ? »« Il l'a gardée. »Luna se sentait un peu embarrassée d'aborder une telle conversation, mais cela ne semblait pas le moins du monde gêner Hermione, qui semblait s'être parfaitement adaptée à la situation. Enfin, en même temps, cela durait depuis plusieurs mois, et elle-même ne l'avait su que quelques jours plus tôt. Ce devait juste être elle, parce que c'était tout nouveau pour elle.Hermione se posta alors près de la table, se servant dans l'un des plateaux remplis de bouchées. Harry et Ginny ne se firent pas prier pour en faire de même, mais comme Luna ne réagissait pas, Hermione déclara :« Sers-toi, ne te gêne pas ! »« Oh. Merci. »Luna saisit un canapé au saumon fumé et mordit dedans, tandis que Ginny se retournait vers elle pour lui réclamer la suite de son récit. Elle avala donc et poursuivit, tandis qu'Harry lui offrit de lui servir un verre – il lui proposa plusieurs boissons, avant qu'elle n'accepte finalement un verre de Chardonnay. Elle avait appris à connaitre les vins français depuis un séjour effectué il y avait plusieurs années de cela dans ce pays, et à en apprécier certains tout particulièrement.« Oh ! J'imagine que ce devait être génial ! » s'enthousiasma Ginny. « Rolf et toi seuls, tous les deux – »« Ils n'étaient pas vraiment seuls », corrigea Harry, amusé.« Oh, juste quelques collègues, et les jumeaux pendant les vacances d'été ! » fit Ginny en secouant la tête, avant de reprendre : « Dans un décor idyllique et sauvage – »« Idyllique n'est peut-être pas le terme ! » l'interrompit Harry en riant, et il rit encore plus lorsque Ginny lui donna un léger coup de poing à l'épaule.« Cesse donc de m'interrompre ! Les photos sont très belles ! »« Je n'ai jamais dit le contraire, chérie », répliqua-t-il avec un sourire en coin, les yeux pétillants. « Juste que – »« On s'en fiche ! » fit sa femme en se retournant vers Luna. « Alors ? »« … Alors, c'était parfait », soupira Luna d'un air rêveur.« Ah, tu vois ! » s'exclama la rouquine à l'encontre de son mari comme s'il s'agissait là d'une preuve, tout en prenant les mains de son amie. « Je suis tellement heureuse pour vous deux. Vous méritiez bien un peu de temps pour vous. »« Oh, on l'a surtout passé en compagnie de dragons », fit Luna en riant.« Mais vous en avez bien profité, et c'est cela qui compte ! »« Oui. Oui, c'est vrai… », fit Luna, sa voix diminuant de volume, songeuse.C'étaient de si bons souvenirs, en effet.« Et vous, de votre côté ? Ça a été ? » fit-elle soudain en se resservant une autre bouchée – un carré recouvert d'un pâté coloré et d'une tranche d'olive.Elle fut incapable de déterminer ce que c'était exactement, mais c'était loin d'être mauvais. C'était plutôt bon, en fait.« Oh, nous, rien de spécial – enfin, presque », finit par répondre Ginny en haussant les épaules, comme si le sujet était bien moins intéressant. « Les championnats du monde de Quidditch vont commencer d'ici deux mois, autant te dire que c'est l'ébullition au Journal ! »« Oui, j'imagine », répondit juste Luna, avant qu'Harry ne poursuive à la place de sa femme :« De notre côté, comme d'habitude en effet. Enfin, sauf cette affaire avec les Mangemorts, qui a été résolue récemment, et ces vols au Ministère et au Muséum. Vous n'avez pas trop de problèmes à cause de cela, j'espère, à ce propos ? »« Eh bien, ça nous fait du travail en plus », souffla Luna, et elle vit là une occasion de parler de sa découverte. « Le Musée avait commandé un certain nombre d'Objets, et va bientôt fermer pour une restructuration. Ce n'était vraiment pas le moment. L'enquête avance ? »Le visage d'Harry s'assombrit, et Luna eut aussitôt sa réponse sans qu'il n'eût besoin de la formuler. Mais avec les Nargoles, elle devait s'en douter. Surtout si personne ne voulait croire en leur existence.« Eh bien, pas vraiment », finit-il tout de même par lâcher du bout des lèvres, comme si cela le répugnait à l'avouer. « A vrai dire, nous n'avons rien. Nous ne comprenons même pas comment ces personnes ont bien pu procéder ! »Etait-ce le moment où elle devrait leur faire part de sa découverte ?Hermione soupira avant de renchérir :« A cause de cela, nous avons dû renforcer la sécurité au sein du secteur concerné. Tant que nous n'aurons pas compris après quoi ces gens en ont, cela va de soi… Mais cela semble mal parti pour le découvrir ! »« En fait », se lança finalement Luna, « je pense savoir. Les Nargoles – »Ce simple mot suffit à tirer un concert de soupirs.« Luna, les Nargoles ne peuvent pas avoir fait ça », répliqua gentiment Ginny, mais Luna l'ignora.Elle se dirigea vers son sac à main et farfouilla dedans sous le regard mi-curieux, mi-sceptique de ses amis, avant de revenir vers eux avec deux parchemins – l'un comprenait les deux schémas d'Hermione, l'autre les notes qu'elle avait copiées à la Bibliothèque.« En fait », commença-t-elle à expliquer, « parmi les Objets volés, plusieurs m'avaient interpellé, donc j'ai cherché et… certains, utilisés ensemble, interviennent dans la conception d'un sort ! »Cela les alerta, bien sûr, notamment Harry, et tous se tendirent.« Comment cela ? » fit Ginny, tandis qu'Hermione attrapait le parchemin de notes que tenait Luna.Hermione le lut pendant plusieurs secondes, le temps de comprendre de quoi il était question, et Harry faisait de même, regardant par-dessus son épaule. Ginny, qui ne voyait rien de son côté, les fixait avec insistance, attendant le verdict. Et à la grande surprise de Luna, ils ne firent que secouer la tête en soupirant.« Luna, ce sort n'est qu'une légende », soupira Harry tandis qu'Hermione lui rendait le parchemin.« Mais non ! Ça correspond ! Les Objets volés, les – »« Luna, ce sort prétend utiliser une magie dont l'existence n'a jamais pu être prouvée. Jamais personne n'a réussi à réaliser quelque chose d'une telle complexité, en réunissant un aussi grand nombre d'Objets – tu imagines la structure qu'il faudrait pour stabiliser tout cela ? Et puis de toute façon, qui aurait intérêt à utiliser un tel sort ? »« Mais les Nargoles ! Ils étaient là, en grand nombre, que ce soit dans le Musée ou au Ministère ! »« Luna, c'est une affaire sérieuse, là. »« Mais je suis sérieuse ! Pourquoi ne voulez-vous pas me croire ? »« Parce que les Nargoles n'existent pas ! » s'exaspéra Hermione, et son pied se fit aussitôt malencontreusement écraser par la chaussure de Ginny, qui toutefois lançait un regard désolé à Luna.Cependant, Luna n'était pas dupe. Elle non plus ne la croyait pas. Cela se voyait dans son regard. La gorge nouée, elle tenta de se justifier :« Mais – »« Luna », insista Harry, plongeant son regard émeraude dans le sien. « Nous n'avons aucune preuve que ces deux affaires soient liées d'une quelconque manière. Ce sort dont tu parles n'a été décrit que dans la littérature, mais nous n'avons aucune trace de son utilisation dans toute l'Histoire ce n'est certainement qu'une légende. »« Mais les Objets volés ont forcément un lien ! Ne me dis pas que tu crois que c'est un pur hasard que ces vols se soient produits sur un intervalle de temps aussi court ! »« Nous y avons pensé, ne t'inquiète pas », la rassura Harry, mais elle savait que cela ne voulait pas dire pour autant qu'il envisageait sa découverte comme ne serait-ce qu'une éventualité. « L'enquête nous permettra de déterminer si c'est vraiment le cas. »« Mais vous ne comprenez pas… », souffla Luna en secouant la tête, dépitée. « Les Nargoles… Ils risquent de détruire Londres ! Et puis, cet éclat de lumière, quelques jours avant ! »« C'étaient les Mangemorts, Luna. »« Vous n'en avez pas la preuve ! Vous n'avez fait tirer cette conclusion trop hâtivement, parce que vous ne saviez pas comment l'expliquer autrement ! Mais ce sont les Nargoles les responsables ! »Enièmes soupirs désabusés. Luna se mordit la lèvre. Jamais elle ne s'était sentie aussi mal parce que personne ne la croyait. Mais ce n'était pas la même chose, et c'était même pire qu'avec son mari. Là, le sort de toute une ville était en jeu, et ses amis, ceux qui pouvaient intervenir, ne la croyaient pas.Frustrée et le cœur serré mais cédant finalement face aux regards insistants de ses amis, elle n'ajouta rien et baissa son regard vers son parchemin parcouru de notes. Il lui faudrait faire davantage de recherches pour parvenir à les convaincre de la véracité de sa découverte, mais elle ne savait pas comment s'y prendre.Une autre discussion débuta, et la précédente fut ainsi considérée comme close. Luna ne la suivit que distraitement, toujours penchée sur ses notes. Quelque peu désespérée, elle lisait, espérant apercevoir un détail qui plaiderait en sa faveur. Elle faillit abandonner sa lecture lorsqu'elle lut la dernière phrase. Son regard se fixa dessus, et son esprit ignora la question que venait de lui poser quelqu'un – Hermione ou Ginny ? Une voix féminine, en tout cas.Le Gardien des Sceaux… Il existait donc bien un moyen d'empêcher la réalisation du sort, et la destruction de la ville ! Elle ne savait pas comment cette personne devrait procéder, mais cela lui était presqu'égal à l'heure actuelle. C'était bien simple, en réalité : il lui suffisait juste de trouver cette personne, et de lui demander d'intervenir !… Mais qui cela pouvait-il donc bien être ? ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Luna sentit quelqu'un secouer doucement son épaule, cependant elle n'ouvrit pas les yeux, pas encore. Le cerveau encore embrumé de sommeil, les images du diner de la veille lui revenaient, mais de manière assez floue, et elle ne chercha pas à les préciser. De toute façon, elle préférait ne pas trop y songer. Elle força donc ses pensées à se focaliser sur une seule chose : le Gardien des Sceaux. Il fallait qu'elle le trouve. Et à sa connaissance, étant donné qu'elle n'avait aucune idée de qui il pourrait bien s'agir, il n'y avait qu'un seul moyen pour cela.Et il fallait que ce moyen – cet objet – se trouve au Ministère. Quelle veine.Elle finit par ouvrir les yeux lorsque la luminosité s'accrut d'un seul coup, et elle plissa ses paupières pour les protéger de l'éblouissement. Il lui fallut quelques secondes pour s'y habituer, clignant plusieurs fois des yeux pour rétablir une vision normale. Elle tourna ensuite son regard humide vers son mari qui lui souriait doucement.« Hey ! Ce n'est pas souvent que tu dors comme ça ! Une vraie marmotte ! » plaisanta-t-il, mais elle n'y répondit pas, quelque peu abasourdie.Quelques secondes plus tard, il quittait la pièce, de bonne humeur, et Luna prit le temps de bien s'étirer avant de se lever. Le planning de la journée ne l'enthousiasmait pas vraiment – c'était le même que la veille, en fait – mais il fallait qu'elle réfléchisse à un moyen d'entrer au Ministère puis au Département au sein duquel l'objet se trouvait. Et se posait aussi la question du quand, sachant que le plus tôt possible serait le mieux.Mais la seule chose qui réussit à émerger de son esprit encore quelque peu voilé était que l'initiative lui faisait penser à ses dernières années à Poudlard, lorsque le Seigneur des Ténèbres était revenu. Une vague de nostalgie l'assaillit brièvement, mais elle n'y pensa bientôt plus.Elle quitta la pièce à son tour et se rendit dans la cuisine, où son mari s'attelait à la confection du petit-déjeuner. Elle s'approcha de la machine à café, et commença à en préparer deux, voyant que cela n'avait pas encore été fait. Quelques minutes plus tard, elle s'asseyait devant le bar dans la cuisine, une tasse fumante dans les mains, l'autre face à elle. Rolf ne tarda pas à arriver avec deux assiettes, et s'installa à son tour. Elle jeta à peine un coup d'œil à ce que contenait son assiette, saisit une fourchette, et commença à manger en même temps que son mari, effectuant le geste par pur automatisme.Un silence confortable s'installa entre eux, et perdura si bien qu'elle replongea dans ses pensées – et elle se rendit à peine compte de ce qu'elle avalait. En y songeant, elle ne savait même pas ce qu'était un Gardien des Sceaux. Cette appellation ne lui rappelait rien du tout, que ce fût des souvenirs de cours à Poudlard ou de ce qu'elle avait pu entendre et apprendre par la suite. Rien du tout, pas même un faible écho. C'était étrange. Pourquoi fallait-il cette personne-là en particulier ?« Sais-tu ce qu'est un Gardien des Sceaux ? »Elle sentit le regard stupéfait de Rolf se tourner vers elle, mais elle garda les yeux rivés sur le liquide noir, songeuse. Vraiment, pourquoi lui en particulier ?« Euh… », finit-il par répondre, balbutiant légèrement. « Dis comme ça, non. Pourquoi ? »Luna haussa les épaules. Elle n'avait rien à en dire, elle ne savait rien. Quoique…« Apparemment, il permettrait d'empêcher la réalisation d'un sort », murmura-t-elle finalement.Fin de l'histoire. Elle était incapable de dire quelle spécificité du sort pourrait expliquer cela. Peut-être l'explication était-elle dans ses notes ?« Oh », ne put que dire Rolf, déstabilisé.Elle le sentit froncer les sourcils, et il lui fallut quelques secondes avant d'ajouter :« Eh bien, vu le nom… je suppose que ce sort doit faire intervenir des Sceaux, et comme ce n'est, disons, pas une magie très courante… »C'était le moins que l'on pouvait dire. Il s'agissait d'une magie très rare, très peu maitrisée, mais heureusement, que peu de sorts nécessitaient – aucun, à sa connaissance, en réalité. De ce fait, cette magie était très mal connue, au potentiel tout aussi mal cerné. Ironique quand l'on songeait qu'elle était assez proche de la magie des Runes. Cependant, elle était incroyablement plus complexe. Bien que Luna ne savait pas exactement en quoi, ne s'y étant jamais intéressée auparavant.Luna acquiesça. Jusque-là, cela pouvait paraitre logique. Mais pourquoi un Gardien ? Ce n'était pas quelque chose que l'on pouvait garder sous scellé, dans une pièce !Elle n'avait plus qu'à prier pour que la personne en question sache ce que c'était, elle, et qu'elle sache ce qu'elle avait à faire. Sinon, ils étaient vraiment mal partis.Ou alors, mieux encore, qu'elle n'avait strictement rien à voir avec ce type de magie.Elle avala une autre bouchée de blanc d'œuf après l'avoir trempé dans du jaune, et ne se rendit même pas compte lorsqu'une goutte tomba sur son pyjama peut-être aurait-elle quelques éléments de réponse dans ses notes. Sinon, il lui faudrait aller à la Bibliothèque. Les chances de trouver un ouvrage là-dessus dans la réserve du Musée étaient infinitésimales. Cette personne n'avait très certainement aucun rapport avec les créatures magiques.« Et il permet quoi, ce sort ? »Luna cligna des yeux en relevant le regard, étonnée par la curiosité de son mari. Mais peut-être croyait-il que son interrogation pouvait avoir un quelconque rapport avec l'étude qu'ils réalisaient ensemble. Mais c'était idiot, il devait savoir qu'elle lui en aurait déjà parlé, dans ce cas.« Oh, eh bien… »Pouvait-elle lui en parler ? Après tout, si elle évitait de nommer les Nargoles, peut-être l'écouterait-il, et la croirait-il au sujet d'individus s'apprêtant à détruire leur ville ? Si au moins ne serait-ce qu'une personne pouvait la comprendre…« Son but n'est pas très bien connu, mais son lancement entraine notamment la destruction de l'endroit à partir duquel il est lancé », finit-elle par répondre d'une voix distante et distraite.Rolf la fixa avec des yeux écarquillés.« Sérieusement ? Mais-mais c'est idiot ! Qui déclencherait un sort pour mourir en le lançant ? »Tiens, elle n'y avait pas pensé. Elle fronça les sourcils et leva la tête, soudain songeuse.« Mmh », réfléchit-elle davantage pour elle-même mais à voix haute, « j'imagine que c'est là aussi l'intérêt d'utiliser des Objets pour cela – comme une sorte de relais, ou autre chose. Soit pour le déclencher avec un compte à rebours ou à distance, soit la structure associerait une protection à – »Mais Luna fut coupée dans sa réflexion par son mari qui la jaugeait, mi-effaré, mi-interrogateur.« Attends, comment ça, des objets ? Quels objets ? Et quel rapport avec les Sceaux ? »« Les Objets volés ! » s'écria-t-elle, et elle sut aussitôt, lorsqu'elle vit le visage de son mari osciller entre la déconfiture et le désappointement, qu'elle l'avait dit bien trop tôt.Les traits de Rolf se fermèrent. Il sembla réfléchir quelques instants et se racla finalement la gorge.« Les objets volés », répéta-t-il avant de reprendre, le ton sceptique : « Donc, tu penses que ces vols ont pour but de détruire Londres ? »Et bien sûr, comme il devait parfaitement se souvenir de leurs échanges de la veille, il savait parfaitement qu'elle pensait les Nargoles responsables de ces vols. Et donc, de la même façon que la veille, le sort en question devint aussi inoffensif qu'un brin d'herbe dans son esprit – s'il existait bien, lui et son Gardien de Sceaux. Et comme la veille, le cœur de Luna se serra, et elle tenta de se justifier :« Oui. Je sais que ça peut paraitre – »« Ça ne parait pas. C'est absurde. Je suis désolé, Luna, mais tu ne peux pas me demander de croire ça. »Les sourcils froncés et l'air maussade, il baissa la tête vers son petit-déjeuner, qu'il s'empressa de finir en silence. Morose, Luna en fit de même elle savait qu'il était inutile pour elle d'aller plus loin. Il était déterminé à ne pas la croire. Et ce constat fut encore plus douloureux qu'avec ses amis, même si la situation avait été similaire, mais ce n'était pas exactement pour la même chose. Que Rolf la crût ou non n'aurait pas changé grand-chose pour Londres – comme elle, il n'était pas le mieux placé pour agir. Mais c'était son mari – et comme les autres, il refusait même de considérer un tant soit peu ses paroles. Selon lui, elle avait forcément tort – parce qu'il semblait inconcevable pour eux que les Nargoles puissent exister. Et pourtant, c'était son mari. Elle avait soudain l'impression qu'un énorme fossé venait de se creuser entre eux, et les éloignait l'un de l'autre – mais peut-être avait-il toujours été là, sans qu'elle n'en eût conscience.Il était rare pour elle de vivre un silence aussi pesant. Une fois le déjeuner terminé, il ne leur fallut qu'une vingtaine de minutes pour finir de se préparer. Peinée mais déterminée, Luna prit soin d'attraper son parchemin au passage et de le fourrer dans son sac, songeant à l'étudier de plus près lors de ses pauses. Elle était toujours seule, et avait donc d'autant plus de raisons de ne pas perdre de temps. Quelques minutes après, ils transplanèrent.Le Musée était à présent fermé au public, et ils durent entrer par une porte annexe et non par l'entrée principale. Cela les arrangeait en partie, car le trajet jusqu'aux salles de stockage était plus court.Aussitôt arrivés, ils se séparèrent, et reprirent le travail tel qu'il avait été laissé la veille. Mais Luna ne parvint nullement à se concentrer, ses yeux tombant régulièrement sur son sac, vers le parchemin qui logeait à l'intérieur. Au bout d'une heure de ce manège qui avait rendu son travail peu productif, elle céda et le sortit. Elle le posa sur la table face à elle, disposant les Objets de sorte qu'ils le masquent plus ou moins à la vue des autres – il n'était pas très grand de toute façon, car elle l'avait plié pour n'avoir que la partie où tout était inscrit. Puis elle le lut avec attention.Elle soupira de dépit lorsqu'elle eût fini le passage sur la description du sort. Elle était somme toute assez courte, étant donné que ce sort n'avait jamais été pratiqué à la connaissance des historiens, mais elle était suffisamment claire pour sous-entendre qu'elle utilisait une magie très rare, subtile, que peu parvenaient à maitriser, ici mise en place avec l'aide de l'un des Objets nécessaires au sort – ou peut-être même deux. Les Sceaux.Elle reprit sa lecture. Elle passa vaguement sur les effets délétères connus du sort – comme la destruction du lieu où il serait pratiqué – et se reconcentra sur le passage évoquant le moyen d'en empêcher la mise en place. Ou tout du moins essaya, car on l'interpella.« Luna ! Sais-tu où se trouve l'exemplaire du parchemin sur les Foriantes ? »« Mmh ? »Il lui fallut quelques secondes pour seulement comprendre ce qu'attendait d'elle la jeune femme debout face à elle, des mèches folles débordant de son chignon qui s'était voulu serré. Et pour comprendre de quoi elle parlait.« Oh ! Non ! Désolée », lui adressa-t-elle alors, en secouant la tête.Elle s'attira tout juste un regard suspicieux de la part de la jeune femme, mais Luna n'y fit pas plus attention. De toute façon, elle ne savait réellement pas où se trouvait ce fichu parchemin. Mais son regard insistant finit par la crisper légèrement, et elle dut retenir un soupir, avant de finir par chuchoter :« Pourquoi ne demandes-tu pas à Drax ? Il était dans le secteur des créatures élémentaires, à la base. »La jeune femme ne la lâcha pas des yeux pour autant, semblant réfléchir. Luna se détourna d'elle, et saisit un nouvel Objet, dans l'espoir qu'elle finisse par se lasser puis par partir.« Que faisais-tu ? » marmonna finalement l'autre femme, tandis qu'elle se hissait sur la pointe des pieds pour essayer de voir plus en avant ce qui se trouvait devant Luna.Elle ne pouvait voir le parchemin chiffonné que Luna lisait, mais cela ne tarderait pas.« Je travaille », répondit Luna d'une voix légère. « Et toi ? »La jeune femme fronça les sourcils en reposant les pieds au sol et resta figée quelques secondes. Puis après un temps qui parut absurdement long pour Luna, elle renifla avant de finalement reculer et s'avancer vers une autre table à quelques mètres de là. Luna ne la considéra pas plus longtemps, et nota juste les informations relatives à l'objet qu'elle tenait, avant de le reposer. Un coup d'œil autour d'elle lui confirma l'absence de regards tournés vers elle. Elle reporta alors le sien sur le parchemin.Elle finit sa lecture en peu de temps, car les informations portées dessus étaient succinctes. Luna retint un autre soupir. Il lui confirmait juste le lien entre le Gardien des Sceaux et cette magie particulière : c'était bien à cause d'elle que cette personne était nécessaire. Mais rien sur la marche à suivre, ni sur comment la retrouver facilement.Elle ne pouvait donc que s'en tenir à son pseudo-plan qu'elle n'avait pas encore élaboré – qui consistait juste à se rendre au Ministère, au sein du Département consacré aux Objets Magiques et devant le Miroir de Limar. Cet objet était notamment capable d'invoquer l'image de la personne recherchée et le lieu dans lequel elle se trouvait. Si le Gardien des Sceaux était unique, et si le Miroir était capable de comprendre cette appellation, elle ferait d'une pierre deux coups.Mais bien sûr, comme elle ne travaillait pas au Ministère, qu'elle n'était pas censée faire quelque chose là-bas, et qu'Hermione ne l'autoriserait jamais à y aller – il lui faudrait alors se justifier, or elle lui avait bien dit la veille qu'elle ne croyait même pas à l'existence de ce sort –, et Harry non plus, et ce pour les mêmes raisons, la tâche se révèlerait ardue.Cela ne la découragea pas pour autant, et elle rangea le parchemin dans son sac avant de se remettre au travail avec plus d'entrain. Elle profiterait de la pause du midi pour mettre en place un plan. Si possible, effectuable dès ce soir.xoxoLa sonnerie de l'ascenseur annonça l'ouverture des portes, et Luna n'attendit pas pour en sortir. Elle bifurqua immédiatement sur sa gauche, tâchant de se faire la plus discrète possible. Depuis la guerre contre Voldemort, les accès au Ministère étaient très surveillés – pas la peine de rêver de parvenir à passer pendant la nuit. Elle comptait donc rentrer de jour, lorsque les passages étaient plus souples, afin d'éviter ce genre de difficultés. Mais bien sûr, il y en avait d'autres : celui de se faire attraper plus facilement, par exemple.Mais cette option l'avait finalement fait hausser les épaules. Au moins, elle aurait de plus grandes chances d'atteindre le Miroir si elle se faisait attraper après avoir obtenu les informations souhaitées, quelle importance ? On l'arrêterait, et ils apprendraient rapidement le pourquoi de sa venue – ce n'était pas comme si elle comptait voler quelque chose, ou déclencher quelque chose de dangereux. Ils la prendraient certainement pour une folle, Harry et Hermione, qui étaient les plus susceptibles d'être mis au courant, lèveraient les yeux au ciel, et elle serait finalement relâchée – parce qu'à part rentrer dans un endroit normalement non accessible au public, ils n'auraient rien contre elle, et ils avaient bien d'autres chats à fouetter, surtout avec les vols qui avaient eu lieu ici même.Ce n'était donc pas le plus gros problème. Non, il fallait juste qu'elle puisse accéder au Miroir avant que cela ne se produise, si cela venait à se produire.Il y avait peu de monde à cette heure. C'était le début de soirée, et la plupart du personnel ne tarderait pas à quitter le travail. Elle devait faire vite. Les gens auraient bien du mal à comprendre ce qu'elle pouvait bien faire là, et pourquoi elle partait dans ce sens-là. Elle pourrait très bien prétexter avoir un rendez-vous, mais elle n'était pas sûre que ce fût réellement crédible.Elle longea les couloirs un petit moment, un trop long moment pour elle, tandis que son cœur se mettait à battre plus vite. Elle n'osait pas courir, de peur de voir quelqu'un apparaitre soudain dans le couloir elle paraitrait aussitôt suspecte.Au bout d'une dizaine de minutes à ignorer les portes qui défilaient sur les côtés, elle s'arrêta devant l'une d'entre elles. Elle n'avait rien de spécial par rapport aux précédentes, et seul un écriteau désignait le lieu auquel on accédait. Elle l'ouvrit – et fut assez étonnée de le pouvoir, puis se dit que ce devait tout simplement être parce qu'elle était dans les horaires d'ouverture – et se glissa à l'intérieur, prenant bien soin de refermer derrière elle.La lumière disparut, et elle se retrouva plongée dans le noir. Cela ne la rassura qu'à moitié – au moins ne devait-il pas y avoir de gens à proximité.Après avoir invoqué un Lumos qui illumina le bout de sa baguette et lui permit d'éclairer un faible périmètre large de quelques mètres autour d'elle, elle jeta un regard circulaire au lieu dans lequel elle se trouvait. Il s'agissait d'un simple couloir aux murs sombres et au sol qui luisait faiblement à la lumière. Rien à voir avec le Département des Mystères, dont elle se rappelait de toutes les péripéties qu'il leur avait infligées. Mais en même temps, ils n'abritaient pas exactement la même chose. Le Miroir qu'elle ciblait, et les autres objets magiques stockés là de manière générale, n'étaient pas réellement dangereux. Les mesures de protection à leur encontre devaient donc se limiter essentiellement à empêcher leur vol, comme des sorts qui bloqueraient les objets dans la salle dans laquelle ils étaient entreposés, ou quelque chose du même style – ou quelque chose au niveau de la porte. Mais pas de pièges en tant que tels. De plus, ce Miroir était parfois même utilisé par les services d'Aurors. Elle était même étonnée qu'il se retrouvât là, qu'il n'eût pas été transféré dans un local plus adapté et qu'il ne fût pas utilisé plus souvent. Peut-être était-il capricieux, ou bien, contrairement à ce qu'elle pensait, son utilisation imposait-elle certaines contraintes. Elle espéra juste que le Miroir fût conciliant pour cette fois, et lui montrât ce qu'elle avait besoin de savoir.Elle s'avança, tâchant de réduire sa respiration au son le plus faible possible, et de rendre ses pas silencieux. Heureusement pour elle, elle ne mettait presque jamais de talons hauts, et elle portait à présent des bottines à semelles plates.Puis des portes apparurent sur les côtés. Elle craignit un instant de devoir toutes les regarder, mais aperçut ensuite les inscriptions sur chacune d'entre elles, désignant les catégories d'objets contenus dans la pièce en question. Cela la rassura. Et lui confirma que la sécurité mise en place en ces lieux était strictement minimale, ce qui était une chance pour elle.La première porte n'avait strictement rien à voir, et Luna l'ignora pour passer à la suivante tout en balayant les alentours du regard pour vérifier que personne ne venait. Ce petit manège dura jusqu'à la sixième porte, où elle s'arrêta. Objets associés à la spatio-temporalité. Cela pouvait correspondre. Elle saisit donc la poignée, et l'abaissa.Mais la porte ne s'ouvrit pas, et elle n'insista pas – la force était inutile face à la magie. Elle tenta alors un simple Alohomora, qui n'eut pas plus de succès. Elle serra les dents, agacée, tout en jetant un énième coup d'œil par-dessus son épaule. Alors jusqu'à présent il n'y avait strictement rien, et à présent ils mettaient le paquet sur cette fichue porte ?Peut-être était-ce à cause des vols… Mais Luna n'y réfléchit pas davantage, se penchant alors sur la serrure.Elle n'avait rien de particulier. Luna tenta plusieurs sorts, sans succès. Elle grimaça. Elle n'allait tout de même pas être amenée à détruire cette porte pour pouvoir entrer ? Autant pour la discrétion !Que pouvait-elle faire d'autre ? Elle ne savait pas si quelque chose empêchait tout sort de fonctionner sur la serrure, ou si cela ne concernait que les sorts d'ouverture. Elle chercha alors à faire bouger le mécanisme à l'intérieur « manuellement » avec sa baguette, dépitée, en faisant pression sur les petits rouages qu'elle ne voyait pas, mais qu'elle visualisait dans sa tête grâce à un sort. Et cela fonctionna, même si ce fut lent – d'autant plus qu'elle jetait de fréquents coups d'œil derrière elle, ce qui ne l'aida pas à se concentrer. Lorsque le dernier engrenage cliqueta et que la porte se débloqua, un vif soulagement la saisit mais de façon brève. Elle n'avait pas le temps non plus pour cela.Elle ouvrit légèrement la porte, vérifia une dernière fois qu'elle fût bien seule, et se glissa à l'intérieur tout en refermant derrière elle. Puis elle se retourna, et leva sa baguette devant elle.Il faisait aussi sombre que dans le couloir, ce qui ne lui permit pas d'éteindre sa baguette. Le champ qu'offrait le sort était trop court pour occuper toute la pièce cependant, elle pouvait voir en face d'elle plusieurs hautes étagères alignées sur lesquelles étaient entreposés des objets plus ou moins volumineux. Elle s'avança sans les quitter des yeux. En quelques pas, elle fut à leur hauteur, et elle se mit à chercher.Deux minutes après, elle se retrouva face à lui. Un petit miroir de la hauteur d'un bras se dressait parmi ses semblables, et seule sa surface brillante légèrement dorée le distinguait des autres. Elle leva la main, et caressa les sculptures de son cadre. De simples formes géométriques qui ne représentaient rien en particulier, si ce n'était ce que l'observateur voulait bien s'imaginer. Mais Luna n'était pas là pour cela elle empêcha donc son esprit de divaguer à ce sujet, et son regard se posa sur le verre.Il n'y avait aucun reflet, et cela lui fit un peu bizarre. Mais elle ne s'attarda pas dessus, sentant l'inquiétude la gagner. La surface restait inerte. Que devait-elle donc faire pour avoir l'information recherchée ?« Qui est et où se trouve le Gardien des Sceaux ? » murmura-t-elle finalement, après un bref coup d'œil inquiet vers la porte, assez éloignée de sa position et presque masquée par le fouillis organisé des Objets stockés.Elle attendit, et après quelques secondes, il ne se passa toujours rien. Luna se mordit la lèvre inférieure. Dire qu'elle avait fait tout cela pour rien ! Elle ferma les yeux, pinça les lèvres, et tenta de vider son esprit de toutes ses pensées. Excepté celles concernant le Gardien des Sceaux.Après qu'elle n'eut plus que cela en tête, détendue, elle entendit un doux clapotement, comme de l'eau agitée par de petites vaguelettes après un bref trouble. Elle ouvrit les yeux, et hoqueta, mortifiée.Oh, le Miroir avait bien fonctionné, cette fois. La silhouette d'une personne se faisait bien voir, et son visage était parfaitement visible. Vêtue d'un uniforme sombre avec des touches de vert et d'argent et accompagnée de quelques personnes, elle marchait dans un couloir de pierres claires que Luna reconnut sans mal. En dessous, une inscription donnait le nom de la personne, mais Luna n'en avait pas besoin. Car elle connaissait cette personne.Ce détail aurait dû la soulager – la trouver serait loin d'être difficile – mais elle y pensa à peine en cet instant – cela lui semblait tellement dérisoire.C'était une personne jeune. Bien trop jeune certainement pour connaitre ce dont elle voudrait lui parler – et dont elle-même n'avait que peu d'informations, en vérité. Et puis, son père avait déjà dû lui parler des événements en lui donnant une tout autre vision des choses. Elle aurait certainement du mal à la croire, elle.Car il s'agissait de Lily Luna Potter. La fille d'Harry Potter.xoxoLily fut parcourue d'un frisson irrépressible, qui descendit le long de sa colonne vertébrale pour se distribuer dans tous ses membres. Elle venait de sortir de cours et avec ses deux amis également à Serpentard, elle se rendait à la salle commune de leur maison en attendant le diner dans la Grande Salle, lorsqu'une sensation soudaine et étrange l'avait saisie. Elle se sentait comme… observée, mais pas seulement. Elle jeta un regard par delà son épaule, puis sur les côtés. Mais il n'y avait que les élèves qui quittaient les salles de cours dans un brouhaha infernal, et aucun visage n'était tourné en sa direction. Elle finit par les lâcher des yeux et fronça les sourcils, le frisson disparu mais les stigmates encore présents. Cela ne passa pas inaperçu aux yeux des deux autres.« Lily, ça va ? »Lily ouvrit la bouche puis hésita. Que pouvait-elle leur dire ? La sensation insolite et inattendue avait été trop fugace pour y trouver une quelconque explication. Elle finit par secouer la tête, un peu désarçonnée.« Rien, rien. Juste… je ne sais pas, juste une sensation bizarre. Mais c'est passé. »Le jeune homme à sa droite, Michael, haussa un sourcil mais ne répliqua pas, et finit par hausser les épaules au bout de quelques secondes. Mais la blonde à sa gauche, Laura, n'était pas de cet avis.« Ah bon ? Tu en es sûre ? »Lily haussa à son tour les épaules pour toute réponse. Elle ne pouvait rien leur dire de plus, elle ne savait rien de plus qu'eux.« Ok… », chuchota alors Laura, préférant abandonner là-dessus.Après tout, Lily ne semblait pas plus perturbée que cela. Pas du tout, même. Juste quelque peu étonnée... ou égarée, peut-être.« Bon, on y va ? On va finir écrasés contre les murs avec tous ces sauvages », grogna Michael d'un air bougon, en fixant des premières années qui se mettaient à courir en criant. « Bande de sales gosses », souffla-t-il en râlant.« Tu étais un peu comme ça, toi aussi », fit Laura en riant, tandis qu'ils reprenaient leur marche. « A te regarder, les cours représentaient une véritable torture pour toi, et la sonnerie de la dernière heure une véritable délivrance ! »« Eh ! Ce n'est pas vrai ! »« Oh, c'est vrai que… »Lily les laissa discuter et rire entre eux, replongeant dans ses pensées. Même s'il n'y avait désormais plus rien, l'incompréhension était toujours là. Elle avait vraiment eu l'impression qu'il y avait eu quelque chose. Et puis c'était parti tout aussi soudainement, comme si on l'avait visualisé puis fait disparaitre ou… ou peut-être pas, qu'en savait-elle ? Y avait-il quelque chose capable de…« Lily ! » gémit une voix qui lui parut bien suraigüe à cette occasion. « On t'attend ! »« Pardon ? »Ils se trouvaient devant le portrait qui limitait l'accès à leurs dortoirs, grand ouvert devant eux. Lily ne vit pas le problème, et le fit bien comprendre à ses camarades de par son regard grandiloquent et son sourcil haussé. Mais personne n'insista, et ils entrèrent. Et ses précédentes pensées disparurent aussitôt de son esprit.xoxoLuna se plaqua aussitôt contre une étagère, pestant intérieurement contre le Miroir qui reflétait toujours l'image qu'il lui avait montré, et qui le faisait briller plus qu'à l'accoutumée. Mais quelqu'un arrivait, et ce n'était vraiment pas le moment.Le problème étant que le bâtiment tout entier interdisait les transplanages, il lui fallait sortir par les voies habituelles. Or, elle était soudain beaucoup moins sûre de n'avoir aucun problème si elle venait à se faire prendre, et c'était bien parti pour être le cas. Elle se ratatina davantage et se glissa le long des rayonnages, éteignant sa baguette.Un homme de haute taille vêtu d'une robe de sorcier sombre et d'une cravate rouge se tenait près de l'entrée grande ouverte, la baguette levée et les sourcils froncés. Il ne lui évoquait rien, et son visage sombre ne lui disait rien qui vaille. Surtout lorsque ce dernier aperçut la lumière anormale en provenance d'une étagère un peu éloignée – celle du Miroir, à cause de ce Miroir, justement. Il se dirigea aussitôt vers sa source. Luna se figea quelques secondes. Elle devait absolument bouger.Tâchant de ne pas se cogner, étant donné qu'elle ne voyait que de vagues formes sombres, elle longea les étagères pour se glisser dans une autre allée assez éloignée de celle d'où elle venait, puis elle s'efforça de gagner l'entrée. Si elle pouvait l'atteindre sans que l'autre homme ne la remarque, ce serait fantastique.« Qui est là ? » cria soudain la voix du sorcier, teintée d'inquiétude cette fois-ci.Cela étonna brièvement Luna, avant de comprendre : il avait dû voir Lily. Il avait aisément deviné que quelqu'un était venu là pour la visualiser, forcément, mais alors, il était en droit de s'en demander la raison. Luna ferma les yeux de dépit pendant une seconde. Il devait penser qu'elle était visée pour une obscure raison, pour atteindre son père, par exemple. Mais c'était ridicule, cette initiative était ridicule, car Lily était bien connue – renommée de son père oblige, bien qu'il faisait tout pour épargner ses enfants et pour leur offrir la vie la plus normale possible – et tous savaient qu'elle se trouvait actuellement à Poudlard. Venir en ces lieux pour la trouver était complètement inutile et stupide.Mais elle ne voyait pas autre chose à laquelle il aurait pu penser et qui aurait pu expliquer sa soudaine angoisse. De toute façon, du point de vue du sorcier, c'était la seule chose rationnelle à laquelle il pouvait songer de prime abord.« Qui est là ? » répéta-t-il d'une voix plus forte et plus ferme, en s'éloignant du Miroir – et il risquait bien de se rapprocher d'elle, se rendit-elle alors compte avec effroi.L'entrée était toute proche, mais elle savait que si elle s'y rendait, là, à cet instant, il la verrait. Et que pourrait-elle lui dire, dans ce cas ? La vérité ? Par Merlin, déjà qu'il ne la croirait pas, de base, mais comme il devait désormais présumer un éventuel attentat qui viserait la fille du Directeur du bureau des Aurors… Ça, Harry en entendrait parler. Et elle était à peu près sûre qu'il valait mieux qu'il ne fût pas au courant de cela. Sinon, il l'empêcherait certainement d'approcher Lily – parce qu'il faudrait bien qu'elle le fasse pour lui parler des Nargoles et du sort.Elle le sentit avancer en sa direction, et se mordit la lèvre. Elle n'avait plus le choix. Sa présence était confirmée, il ne servait à rien d'espérer qu'il parte d'une manière ou d'une autre. Elle devait donc le neutraliser, sans qu'il ne vît son visage. Ou pas nécessairement, en fait, ce n'était pas si grave, il lui faudrait sans nul doute lui effacer ses derniers souvenirs, de toute façon.Elle aperçut l'ombre de sa silhouette sur le sol, se ratatina davantage par instinct puis s'immobilisa. Elle prit garde à respirer sans un bruit, et à ne pas plus faire quoique ce fût de bruyant – ce qui ne la changeait beaucoup des secondes précédentes. C'était le moment. Elle pouvait lui envoyer un sort entre deux objets, et si elle était suffisamment rapide, il ne s'en rendrait compte que lorsque le sort le frapperait, et ne la verrait donc même pas.Elle se leva à peine pour lancer un Stupéfix informulé vers la grande silhouette, heureusement de dos. Cette dernière se figea et retomba sur le sol après quelques secondes, face contre terre. Un autre sort lui retira ses derniers souvenirs, et Luna rejoignit précipitamment l'entrée.Il n'y avait personne. Luna s'empressa donc de traverser le couloir pour rejoindre la porte, le plus silencieusement possible compte tenu du fait qu'elle courait. Elle faillit ouvrir la porte en grand dans sa hâte mais elle s'arrêta, haletante. Elle se retourna pour vérifier que personne ne la suivait –ce qui fut difficile étant donné qu'elle n'avait pas rallumé sa baguette, mais elle se refusait à le faire, de peur d'être aussitôt repérée – puis elle tenta d'écouter les bruits au travers de la porte. Y avait-il quelqu'un dans les couloirs ? Il lui semblait bien que non mais elle n'en était pas sûre. Mais comme elle n'avait aucun moyen de voir au travers, elle l'ouvrit très lentement et très légèrement, afin de dégager un faible interstice qui laissait juste de quoi passer un œil.Personne en vue, et aucun bruit, hormis celui de son souffle court. Elle l'ouvrit un peu plus grand, ce qui lui offrit une vision un peu plus large. Toujours personne.Elle glissa dans l'ouverture, et referma aussitôt la porte derrière elle pour s'en éloigner rapidement, tout en évitant de courir. Elle pourrait toujours prétexter s'être perdue dans les couloirs, mais il ne fallait pas que l'on sache qu'elle venait en réalité de cette porte.Cependant, il fallut quelques minutes avant qu'elle ne croise du monde, et à ce moment-là, elle ne s'en inquiéta plus. Ils l'ignoraient, et elle évoluait vers l'ascenseur, comme l'essentiel des gens, d'ailleurs, et cela paraissait tout naturel. Elle se détendit complètement lorsque les portes grillagées se refermèrent derrière elle, sans que rien ne vînt l'inquiéter.xoxo« Tu as lu ça ?! Il y a eu une agression au Ministère ! »« Ah bon ? »Luna dut prendre sur elle pour prendre un air vaguement surpris, et ne surtout pas se mordre les lèvres. Rolf devait forcément parler de cet homme qu'elle avait stupéfixé au Ministère. Mais elle était étonnée qu'il le sache déjà. Cela ne s'était produit que quelques heures plus tôt, et il était désormais tard même s'ils s'en étaient très certainement déjà aperçus – de toute façon, le sort avait déjà dû cesser depuis un moment déjà – ils n'avaient pas dû s'empresser de le raconter à tout le monde, et encore moins à la presse. Déjà qu'ils n'avaient pas été très heureux que l'histoire des vols ait fuité.Rolf lui tendit son ordinateur, adapté de la technologie des Moldus par le monde magique. Il était actuellement connecté au réseau magique – qui n'avait encore rien à voir avec l'internet des Moldus, mais qui se développait à bonne vitesse – et l'écran affichait un article paru moins d'une heure plus tôt. La lecture du titre et la photo mouvante de l'homme un peu sonné lui confirmèrent qu'il s'agissait bien de cela : l'information avait forcément fuité. Ils avaient été rapides.« On sait ce qu'il s'est passé ? » murmura-t-elle finalement, s'obligeant à prendre un air vaguement intrigué.Après tout, si elle avait joué l'indifférente, cela aurait sans doute paru étrange, même de sa part.Rolf se contenta de secouer la tête en signe de dénégation, ce qui la rassura, bien qu'elle ne le laissât pas transparaitre – et il ne fallait surtout pas qu'il s'en aperçoive. Mais il avait le regard plongé vers l'écran et non vers elle, et il ne soupçonna pas le moins du monde les émotions qui agitaient sa femme.« Non. Et cet homme ne se souvient de rien. Tout ce qu'ils savent, c'est qu'il a été stupéfixé, et que ses derniers souvenirs ont été effacés. Ils essaient de voir pour les lui rendre, mais ils n'ont pas trop d'espoir : apparemment, la personne l'aurait frappé de dos. »« Oh », fut tout ce que Luna réussit à dire.Fantastique. Ils seraient bien incapables de l'identifier, là n'était pas le problème, mais il se rappellerait alors du Miroir, et de l'image reflétée. Tous allaient partir sur un éventuel attentat visant la fille du célébrissime Harry Potter, et elle serait dès lors inapprochable. Et elle qui devait essayer de la convaincre de l'aider… Cela n'allait pas être de tout repos !Luna finit par soupirer, mais Rolf l'interpréta d'une toute autre manière.« Ne t'inquiète pas, chérie, ils trouveront », la rassura-t-il en glissant sa main sur la sienne, ce qui n'eut pas du tout l'effet escompté, mais il ne le vit pas. « Harry va s'en occuper. »Luna acquiesça pour toute réponse, et elle se força à lever la tête pour lui adresser un sourire contrit. Il lui sourit à son tour, et elle fut désolée de devoir lui mentir à ce point. Mais il ne pouvait pas comprendre.En fait, il ne voudrait pas comprendre. A cause des Nargoles.Elle se détourna de lui, replongeant son regard sur le livre qu'elle tenait. Elle avait déjà eu du mal à se mettre à sa lecture, mais elle sentait que c'était désormais mission impossible, pas avec toutes les pensées qui encombraient son esprit. Elle le referma dans un claquement sonore, ce qui ne fit sursauter personne hormis la créature emplumée qui somnolait dans sa cage en boule. Elle se leva et se dirigea vers la bibliothèque pour le ranger. Tant pis pour ça.Son mari ne leva même pas le regard vers elle il avait repris la préparation de la présentation sa précédente étude pour la conférence en Finlande. Et il ne le fit pas davantage lorsqu'elle quitta la pièce pour se diriger vers la volière.Elle récupéra du parchemin avant d'entrer, et s'assit en calant son dos contre le mur pour rédiger son message. Elle ne pouvait plus garder tout cela pour elle toute seule, mais peu de gens semblaient en mesure de la comprendre un tant soit peu, et elle avait besoin d'aide. Pour parler à Lily, pour la convaincre de l'aider, pour convaincre ses amis de prendre ses propos au sérieux et de protéger les Objets restants des Nargoles, bien qu'elle ne sache comment ils pourraient procéder… Peut-être ne seraient-ils d'aucune aide en réalité, si ce n'était pour avoir une occasion de parler à Lily – et pas seulement lors des vacances scolaires, parce que pour l'instant, elle ne voyait que cette opportunité-là. Mais elle avait besoin de se confier – un peu, seulement. Il y avait certaines choses qu'il ne valait mieux pas évoquer, surtout par un message écrit, au risque qu'il fût intercepté. Comme l'incident au Ministère, par exemple.Et ses fils seraient très bien pour cela. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Lily replia le parchemin qu’elle tenait entre ses mains en fronçant les sourcils, sous le regard inquisiteur de son ami qui alternait entre elle et la lettre. Pour le reste, Scorpius paraissait surtout nonchalant ; vautré sur un fauteuil avec classe – ce devait être de famille, elle-même ne réussissait qu’à ressembler à un sac à patates jeté sur le canapé – un bras sur l’accoudoir et l’autre main levant son verre à mi-trajet en direction de son visage pâle, les jambes croisées, seule une moue ennuyée transparaissait sur ses traits. Mais pas ses yeux. Ses yeux, eux, la fixaient, elle, et n’attendaient qu’une seule chose : qu’elle réponde à la question qu’il ne jugeait pas nécessaire de poser. Ce constat l’amusa, et elle leva un sourcil en sa direction.« Quoi ? » fit-elle un brin moqueuse, en glissant le parchemin dans la veste de son uniforme.C’était tellement drôle de le voir ainsi, juste pour un bout de papier. Il n’avait pourtant aucune idée de son contenu, elle n’avait encore rien dit depuis qu’elle s’était plongée dans sa lecture. Mais il était tellement curieux.Le blond lui répondit par un sourcil haussé.« Quoi « quoi » ? »Lily ricana.« C’est ridicule. »« Mmh, peut-être. Alors ? »Lily prit un air d’incompréhension.« Alors quoi ? »Scorpius soupira, comme s’il faisait face à une personne de mauvaise foi. Il posa son verre d’un geste théâtral – ou alors c’était elle qui l’imaginait théâtral, mais Scorpius avait parfois tout d’un dramaturge, de sorte qu’elle pensait ainsi – et porta sa main sur sa tempe.« Alors, qu’est-ce donc ? »« De quoi ? »Scorpius eut un petit sourire et secoua légèrement la tête. Il savait qu’elle savait parfaitement de quoi il parlait.« Ta lettre », se contenta-t-il d’ajouter, préférant connaitre rapidement la réponse plutôt que de perdre du temps en bavardages inutiles.Pas qu’il fût pragmatique à ce point ; seulement à cet instant, il voulait surtout assouvir sa curiosité, et ce le plus rapidement possible. Le reste était plus accessoire.Et puis, la salle commune était vide pour le moment, mais elle ne devrait plus tarder à ne plus l’être. Si le contenu devait être privé, Lily préfèrerait certainement ne pas en parler avec des gens à proximité. Lui était son ami, ce n’était pas pareil. Et puis, il voulait assouvir sa curiosité dès à présent, et non pas attendre que leurs amis viennent pour cela.Lily finit par hausser les épaules en tournant la tête vers le feu de cheminée, et ses yeux se perdirent dans les flammes dansantes. Elle aurait pu répliquer que cette lettre ne le concernait pas. Elle se mordit la lèvre, soudain indécise, en repensant au contenu de cette fameuse lettre. Elle ne savait que penser. Mais peut-être qu’en parler l’aiderait justement à y voir plus clair.« Elle vient de mon père. »Elle vit du coin de l’œil l’intérêt de Scorpius s’accroitre, mais elle conserva son regard tourné vers les flammes. Il se redressa sur son siège, puis se cala plus confortablement, attendant la suite. Lily ne tarda pas à la lui apporter :« Je suppose que tu es au courant pour l’agression au Ministère, hier ? »Scorpius cligna juste des yeux, ne comprenant sans doute pas le rapport avec sa lettre. Il ne répondit donc qu’au bout de quelques secondes :« Bien sûr, comme tout le monde, pourquoi ? »Lily se contenta d’hocher la tête avant de se mettre à expliquer :« C’était dans une salle où sont entreposés des Objets Magiques dont le danger a été écarté, mais encore en cours de classement en vue de les placer ensuite, pour la plupart d’entre eux. »Scorpius garda le silence, même si Lily perçut son incompréhension redoubler. Elle continua malgré tout, sans attendre une éventuelle question que son ami semblait de toute façon incapable de formuler pour l’instant ; mais peut-être aurait-il la réponse ultérieurement.« Parmi ces Objets, il y a un Miroir dont se servent parfois les services des Aurors. Il est assez compliqué à utiliser, dans le sens où la plupart du temps il ne fonctionne pas. »« Et il sert à quoi ? » demanda Scorpius qui devinait que, quelque fût le problème dont voulait lui parler Lily, ce Miroir avait un rapport avec lui.Son visage se fronça immédiatement après ses mots tandis que l’histoire de classement surgit dans son esprit en un éclair, et il s’attendit donc à un simple haussement d’épaules comme signe d’absence de réponse. Mais à sa surprise, Lily répondit :« Il permet de visualiser une personne que l’on cherche dans le lieu où elle se trouve. »« Mais pourquoi est-il encore en cours de classement s’ils savent ce qu’il fait ? »Lily haussa les épaules, impuissante.« Peut-être parce qu’ils ne savent pas où le mettre, sinon. Ou peut-être est-ce juste pour le garder sous le coude, au cas-où. Je n’en sais rien. »Scorpius ne voyait pas non plus ce qui pouvait le justifier, mais à vrai dire, cela lui était presque égal. Il balaya donc ce fait de son esprit, et l’invita à poursuivre :« Et donc ? »La suite ne se fit pas attendre.« Apparemment, l’homme qui a été agressé est arrivé dans cette salle, et s’est aperçu que quelqu’un l’avait utilisé. Mais il n’a pas eu l’occasion de voir de qui il s’agissait, il a été stupéfixé par derrière. »Il connaissait déjà la plupart de ces détails pour les avoir lus dans la presse, mais la finalité lui échappait toujours. Cependant, l’air distrait et angoissé de son amie était loin de le rassurer – même s’il ne la voyait que de profil. Il se redressa et tourna le buste vers elle, les deux avant-bras s’appuyant sur l’accoudoir de son fauteuil. Elle ne réagit pas davantage à son encontre.« Et ? C’est grave ? Qui – »« C’était moi, dans le Miroir », l’interrompit Lily, tournant enfin son visage vers son ami.Elle vit ce dernier frappé par l’incrédulité, avant que son humeur ne s’assombrisse, partagé entre l’inquiétude et l’incompréhension.Autant avouer qu’elle ressentait la même chose.Fronçant les sourcils, Scorpius reprit la parole, d’abord d’une voix un peu incertaine.« Et… ils ont quelques suspects ? Une idée de pourquoi quelqu’un a cherché à te trouver ? »Lui-même avait beau réfléchir, il ne voyait pas qui voudrait la prendre pour cible – ce n’était pas comme si elle avait fait quelque chose qui aurait pu être mal perçu par un autre, sa vie était plutôt calme, et la jeune fille n’avait pas vraiment un tempérament aventureux. Et elle ne pourrissait la vie de personne, ni même n’embêtait personne. Alors qui, et pourquoi ?« Non », fit Lily en secouant la tête avec dépit, se posant exactement les mêmes questions. « Justement, ils ne comprennent pas ; mon père m’a d’ailleurs demandé si j’avais eu des problèmes récemment avec quelqu’un, ou autre chose. Ils pensent peut-être que cela pourrait être mon père que l’on vise à travers moi. Mais… ça n’explique pas tout. Je… je ne comprends pas ! »Cette dernière phrase le surprit de par son évidence. Mais sans doute avait-elle quelque chose de bien particulier en tête qui, pour l’instant, lui échappait.« Que veux-tu dire ? Ce n’est pas – »« Je sais, tout cela est étrange, mais surtout… tout le monde sait qui je suis ! La fille d’Harry Potter ! Et tout le monde sait aussi que je suis en ce moment à Poudlard ! Alors pourquoi prendre autant de risques pour utiliser cet objet, pour obtenir une information que tout le monde connait déjà ? »Scorpius ouvrit la bouche pour répliquer, mais resta muet quelques secondes avant de la refermer, ne sachant pas quoi dire. Elle avait raison : cela n’avait pas de sens. Mais il ne voyait rien d’autre qui puisse justifier l’image de son amie apparue dans ce Miroir.Il se frotta la tempe de ses doigts, essayant de réfléchir à une explication. Mais strictement rien ne lui venait. C’était insensé.« Et que t’a-t-il dit d’autre ? » finit-il par murmurer en fermant les yeux.Un début de migraine lui vrillait désormais la tête, mais il n’était pas sûr que cela ait un quelconque rapport avec leur conversation actuelle.« Rien. Enfin, à part de faire attention, d’être attentive à ce qui se passe autour de moi, de lui dire si quelque chose me parait suspect, et de bien rester à Poudlard – comme si je m’amusais à en sortir, sérieusement. C’est quand même génial : je ne vais pas pouvoir circuler dans les couloirs sans m’empêcher de loucher sur les gens qui m’entourent ! »Son indignation finale ne trouva aucun écho chez son ami, qui ne lui renvoya qu’un regard mi-désolé, mi-inquiet.« C’est clair, ces prochaines semaines ne vont pas être de la tarte… », grogna-t-il finalement, songeur, avant de lui suggérer d’une voix plus forte : « Il vaudrait peut-être mieux que tu ne sois jamais seule, aussi… »« Pardon ? »Lily n’était pas sûre qu’il ait voulu dire ce qu’elle avait compris. Le regard gris du jeune homme plongea dans ses yeux, et il s’expliqua :« On ne sait pas pourquoi quelqu’un t’a fait apparaitre dans ce Miroir, et même si cet acte n’a aucun sens pour nous, on ne peut exclure que cette personne veuille s’en prendre à toi. Il vaut donc mieux que tu sois toujours accompagnée – ou en présence de suffisamment de personnes pour le dissuader d’agir, ou, s’il décidait tout de même de passer à l’acte, pour potentiellement intervenir en cas de problème. »C’était bien ce qu’elle avait cru comprendre.Elle fut passablement irritée par cette suggestion, mais ce fut très bref, car elle devait se rendre à l’évidence : elle ne savait pas à quoi ni à qui elle avait affaire et ce qui risquait de l’attendre. Il valait donc mieux qu’elle ne fût pas seule à ce moment-là – même si elle doutait que seuls quelques amis suffiraient forcément à résoudre le problème. Ses épaules plièrent à la perspective des prochains jours, et elle hocha la tête, l’air misérable.« Bah, je passe l’essentiel du temps en cours, ça ne devrait pas être trop compliqué ! »C’était peut-être vrai à Poudlard ; mais une sortie à Pré-au-Lard était prévue pour le week-end de la semaine suivante, et il lui fallait absolument une tenue pour le bal de Noël, qui avait désormais lieu chaque année.Scorpius avait dû suivre le même cheminement qu’elle, car il reprit :« Si tu tiens tant que ça à te rendre à Pré-au-Lard, il faut que tu trouves quelqu’un pour y aller avec toi. Moi je ne peux pas, McGonagall a eu l’extrême amabilité de me coller à ce moment-là aussi ! »Lily eut un petit sourire en repensant à la cause de cela. Albus et Scorpius parvenaient à se mettre dans de telles situations tous les deux, dignes du Trio d’Or de l’époque. Il était incroyable de songer à quel point ils étaient proches, alors que leurs pères respectifs s’étaient voués une haine sans limites au même âge, ou presque – même si cela s’était grandement amélioré avec le temps, car les deux hommes entretenaient désormais une relation plutôt cordiale, bien que cela s’arrêtât là.Mais les enjeux n’étaient pas les mêmes – personne ne cherchait à ressusciter ni à asservir le monde, pour ce qu’ils en savaient –, et la Directrice avait estimé qu’ils avaient dépassé les limites cette fois-ci – mais elle devait se l’avouer, elle-même pensait qu’ils les avaient dépassées depuis longtemps. Ils étaient juste intenables – d’où leur série de colles tous les samedis depuis plus d’un mois à présent. Et le samedi de la sortie ne faisait pas exception : la Directrice avait refusé de le leur concéder – plaidant qu’ils ne le méritaient pas. Et ce n’était pas peu dire.Mais ils s’en remettraient. Ils s’en remettaient toujours, et cela ne les empêchait jamais de reprendre les mêmes activités par la suite.Lily haussa les épaules.« Ce ne sera pas un problème, tu n’es pas mon seul ami, que je sache », insinua-t-elle, cynique, avant de reprendre, d’une voix plus pensive : « C’est surtout que… mon père m’a demandé de rester à Poudlard. C’est vraiment tombé au mauvais moment », soupira-t-elle finalement.« Ce n’est pas comme s’il y avait de bons moments pour cela », fit-il judicieusement remarquer, et elle ne put que l’approuver.Mais il y avait des moments où c’était plus embêtant que d’autres.Elle reprit sur le même ton :« Tu vois, d’un côté, je me dis la même chose, qu’il vaut mieux que je n’y aille pas, au cas où… mais d’un autre côté, j’ai vraiment envie d’y aller. En plus je dois toujours trouver ma robe de bal ! »Scorpius haussa les épaules avec indifférence à ses derniers mots, mais Lily l’ignora. En même temps, c’était facile pour eux : ils mettaient toujours la même chose chaque année, sauf s’ils avaient changé de taille. Personne ne s’en rendait réellement compte.« Tu peux toujours remettre la robe de l’année dernière, tu sais », lui conseilla-t-il, mais elle écarta sa suggestion d’un signe de tête.« Tu plaisantes ? Je ne peux pas faire ça ! »En fait, si, techniquement, elle le pourrait ; la robe en question demeurait toujours dans son armoire, chez ses parents, et il lui suffirait de leur demander de la lui envoyer. Mais elle n’allait tout de même pas se rhabiller de la même façon que l’année précédente !Cela n’émut en aucun cas son ami masculin, mais il n’insista pas là-dessus. Il savait déjà que ce serait vain.« Sinon, il faut te constituer un groupe suffisant de « gardes du corps ». »Lily secoua la tête de dépit. Il savait qu’il souhaitait essayer d’en plaisanter un peu, et elle en aurait presque ri si le sujet ne lui paraissait pas aussi grave – s’il ne la concernait pas autant.« Quel comique tu fais », grinça-t-elle malgré tout, tandis que la porte de la salle commune s’ouvrit.Plusieurs Serpentards entrèrent, signant là la fin de la discussion – Lily fit bien comprendre à son ami d’un regard qu’elle ne voulait pas en parler aux autres, pas pour le moment du moins. Plus tard, sans doute. Mais pour l’heure, elle en était encore à digérer la nouvelle, à essayer de comprendre la situation, et à se demander que faire. Scorpius n’était pas du même avis, et le lui fit bien savoir en s’enfonçant davantage dans son fauteuil d’un air mécontent. Mais il se tairait, à sa demande – pour le moment seulement. Parce qu’il ne pourrait demeurer avec elle en tous temps, qu’il n’était même pas en même année qu’elle, et qu’elle ne devait jamais rester seule, pas même quelques secondes – cela suffisait pour une attaque.Quelques Serpentards, uniquement des septièmes années, vinrent en leur direction – ils se tenaient en retrait, assez éloignés de la cheminée – et s’étonnèrent de les retrouver aussi maussades. Parmi eux, Lily reconnut son frère Albus à sa tignasse brune si semblable à celle de leur père. Ils se saluèrent mutuellement, et Albus vint se placer près de sa sœur, tout sourire. Lily ne put que lui en rendre un quelque peu crispé, tout en réfléchissant rapidement ; à voir sa mine réjouie et intriguée, leur père n’avait pas dû l’informer de la situation. Mais après tout, pourquoi l’aurait-il fait ? Il lui aurait fourni un prétexte pour n’en faire encore qu’à sa tête, en plus. Etonnant que Scorpius n’ait pas lui-même proposé de mener une sorte d’enquête au sein de l’école, d’ailleurs.« Alors, vous parliez de quoi ? » lança Albus d’un ton badin.Lily grimaça, et hésita à en parler. Elle préférait réfléchir un peu sur la chose auparavant, mais… comment mentir à son ainé ? Et Scorpius serait certainement incapable de tenir sa langue avec lui, c’était son meilleur ami !Et effectivement, Scorpius répondit, mais sa réponse l’étonna :« Des vols qui ont eu lieu au Ministère et au Muséum d’Histoire Naturelle », fit-il d’un ton morne en reprenant son verre et sa posture négligée.Lily lui jeta un bref regard surpris, auquel il répondit par un faible haussement d’épaules. Bah, il avait dû prendre un sujet au hasard ; et puis après tout, ils avaient parlé de son père, il y avait quand même un lien entre les deux !En fait pas vraiment, mais elle s’en fichait.Elle se retourna vers son frère, qui avait assisté à l’échange sans le comprendre, mais comme les autres, il ne chercha pas à l’expliquer. Toutefois, il fronça les sourcils d’un air sceptique.« Ah oui ? Parce qu’il y a eu des évolutions ? Pour ce que j’en sais, l’affaire piétine. »« Non. Aucune », confirma Scorpius d’une voix tranquille. « En fait, nous parlions surtout de l’hypothèse principalement retenue par les Aurors. »« Oh. Oui. Le trafic d’Objets », lança Albus d’un ton ennuyé.Ce sujet ne passionnait aucun des nouveaux arrivants, et hormis Albus, ils ne se gênaient pas pour murmurer entre eux quelques phrases concernant un devoir donné quelques minutes plus tôt. En même temps, personne à Poudlard ne se sentait réellement concerné par cette affaire – elle avait bien agité quelques esprits lorsque ces vols rapprochés avaient été annoncés à la presse, mais cela s’était rapidement tari.« Et alors ? Qu’y avait-il d’intéressant à ajouter là-dessus ? » reprit Albus en étouffant un bâillement.Scorpius lui jeta un regard placide.« Pas grand-chose. Pourquoi t’imagines-tu que nous ayons beaucoup parlé ? Tu ne sais même pas depuis combien de temps nous sommes là. »Les commissures des lèvres d’Albus se relevèrent légèrement, et une lueur amusée brilla dans ses yeux.« Ne me dis pas que vous venez juste d’arriver. Vous aviez tous les deux fini bien avant nous. »« Oui, c’est vrai », fit Scorpius en hochant la tête. « Mais ce n’est pas pour autant que nous sommes là depuis tout autant de temps – nous sommes allés à la bibliothèque, c’est là que nous nous sommes croisés d’ailleurs. Je ne comprends toujours pas pourquoi tu as pris cette option. »Vraiment, les Runes. Le truc ridiculement inutile et chiant par excellence.Albus haussa juste les épaules en réponse. Il n’avait pas d’explication concrète à donner. A l’heure actuelle, lui-même se posait la question.« Tu as bien pris Divination, toi », préféra-t-il rétorquer d’un ton moqueur.Il fut récompensé par une belle grimace qui tordit le visage pâle du Malefoy, ce qui le fit rire franchement. Le blond finit par soupirer, mais son regard démentait l’air désespéré qu’il tâchait d’arborer.« Ne m’en parle pas. Je ne sais pas ce qui m’a pris. Cette prof est tarée. »Ils avaient déjà entendu parler du professeur Trelawney par leurs parents, et même si leurs propos avaient été modérés de part sa prédiction de la prophétie concernant Harry et de part sa participation durant la guerre contre le Seigneur des Ténèbres, ils n’avaient pas été très élogieux quant à ses qualités professionnelles et pédagogiques – et ce n’était pas peu dire. La professeure actuelle en était vraisemblablement la digne héritière.« Toi, tu as pris quoi, au fait ? » demanda Scorpius en se tournant vers Lily.« Runes. J’avais trop entendu parler de la Divination et ça m’en a dégoûté avant même d’avoir essayé, désolée », répondit-elle, alors que son visage rayonnant la contredisait.« Je comprends. J’en viens presque à regretter mon choix. Parfois. »Lily hocha la tête d’un air amusé, avant de se reperdre dans ses pensées, pressant sa nuque contre le dossier du fauteuil. Pour le coup, la Divination aurait peut-être été utile pour découvrir ce qui l’attendait, concernant cette histoire avec le Miroir. Mais de ce qu’on lui avait dit, cela ne fonctionnait pas vraiment comme ça, on ne pouvait choisir les informations que l’on voulait obtenir – Scorpius en était bien incapable, et les autres aussi. Donc en réalité, cela n’aurait rien changé à sa situation.Matière inutile par excellence, donc. Mais les Runes ne pouvaient pas l’aider davantage – et en quoi pourraient-ils l’aider un jour, en vérité ? C’était juste là pour espérer décrocher des points supplémentaires aux examens, rien de plus. Tant de travail à fournir juste pour cela – des notes sur un bulletin et un diplôme.Elle ferma les yeux tandis que, près d’elle, des chuchotements lui indiquèrent qu’Albus et Scorpius poursuivaient la conversation tous les deux – ou peut-être en avaient-ils entamé une autre – et que les autres septièmes années s’étaient joints à eux. L’image du Miroir s’imposa à elle, et l’incompréhension revint avec elle. Cela avait certainement un rapport avec son père, de cela elle en était presque sûre. Mais elle avait beau réfléchir, elle ne voyait pas pourquoi quelqu’un s’était donné autant de peine pour si peu. Et il n’y avait rien susceptible de l’aider à comprendre.Pour l’heure, elle ne pouvait donc que subir la suite des événements.xoxoLuna plia soigneusement la lettre, et la glissa dans le tiroir de son bureau avant de le refermer avec douceur, pensive. Ses fils venaient de lui répondre, et à son grand soulagement, eux la croyaient, ou du moins lui accordaient le bénéfice du doute, car ils ne comprenaient pas pourquoi les Nargoles souhaitaient soudain détruire Londres – leurs activités habituelles en étaient très éloignées –, ce qu’elle pouvait parfaitement comprendre. Ils avaient même accepté de l’aider. Mais, comme elle l’avait deviné elle-même auparavant, ils ne savaient pas vraiment comment faire, étant donné que de toute façon, elle n’était pas censée pouvoir entrer à Poudlard. Cependant, ils l’avaient également informée d’une chose très intéressante : une sortie à Pré-au-Lard était prévue pour la semaine suivante, et de ce qu’ils en savaient, Lily comptait s’y rendre – le bal de Noël était proche, et tous les élèves souhaitaient sauter sur l’occasion pour réaliser leurs dernières emplettes. Et c’était l’occasion rêvée pour elle aussi ; Pré-au-Lard était accessible à tous. Elle trouverait facilement un prétexte pour s’y trouver au même moment qu’elle, d’autant plus que la sortie avait lieu durant le week-end et qu’elle ne travaillait donc pas.Ses pensées ne purent aller plus loin dans sa réflexion car la sonnette retentit soudain dans la maison. Elle leva la tête, surprise. Elle n’attendait personne, et Rolf était absent – il était encore parti pour une autre réunion au sujet de cette conférence.Elle se leva et traversa les différentes pièces pour se planter devant la porte d’entrée, qu’elle ouvrit d’un coup de baguette. Une tête rousse souriante lui fit alors face et lui cria l’identité de son visiteur, et sa prise sur le manche en bois se détendit. Ginny Potter.« Luna ! Je ne dérange pas, j’espère ? » s’exclama alors joyeusement cette dernière, sans même un regard pour la baguette que tenait toujours la blonde. « J’ai entendu dire que Rolf n’était pas là à cause de cette conférence à Helsinki qui aura lieu prochainement, et Harry travaille, donc je me suis dit que ce serait bien de se voir un peu ! Cela fait si longtemps que nous n’avons pas pu nous faire une soirée entre nous ! »Luna lui rendit son sourire, touchée par l’attention. Plongée dans ses recherches et dans l’attente de la réponse de ses jumeaux, elle n’avait pas réellement souffert de la solitude – elle n’en avait jamais réellement souffert, d’ailleurs. Mais cela faisait du bien de voir des personnes auxquelles on tenait se faire du souci pour soi.Ses grands yeux fixés sur la rouquine, elle mit quelques secondes avant de répondre :« Non, bien sûr que non. Entre, je t’en prie », ajouta-t-elle en lui cédant le passage, avant de refermer la porte derrière son amie à l’aide d’un sort informulé. « Par contre, je n’ai rien prévu concernant le repas », prévint-elle en passant près d’une fenêtre, et l’obscurité du dehors lui rappelait l’heure qu’il devait être. « Je ne sais pas si tu as déjà mangé, mais… »« Ne t’inquiète pas, j’ai tout prévu », s’enthousiasma Ginny en désignant un sac qui lévitait près d’elle avec un clin d’œil. « Je me doute qu’avec tout ce que tu dois avoir à faire, tu n’as même pas dû y songer », rigola-t-elle ensuite franchement.Luna ne pouvait qu’être d’accord. Il était presque huit heures du soir, et cette pensée ne lui avait en aucun cas traversé l’esprit. Mais son estomac ne s’en était pas plaint et il n’était pas très tard, donc ce n’était pas très grave.Elles sortirent du petit hall pour s’introduire dans le salon. Ginny en profita pour poser ses affaires, ne conservant que le sac de nourriture qu’elle fit voler jusqu’à la cuisine.« Tu as faim ? C’est déjà cuit, il suffit juste de réchauffer. »« Mmh, maintenant que tu le dis… », fit Luna, songeuse, tandis que son ventre commençait doucement à se manifester à l’appel de la nourriture.Mais celui de Ginny ne se gênait pas pour s’exprimer avec vigueur, lui, ce qui les fit rire. Elles suivirent donc le sac peu de temps après, et Ginny sortit les différents contenants et entreprit de tout réchauffer. Quelques minutes plus tard, elles se tenaient assises l’une face à l’autre devant la grande table du salon et mangeaient.« Alors, tu as commencé à rédiger ton étude ? » demanda Ginny.Luna leva les yeux vers elle, lui donnant un air surpris alors qu’elle ne l’était pas. Elle se contenta de répondre :« Non, pas encore. Pour le moment, nous faisons l’inventaire des Objets au Musée, et nous réceptionnons et inventorions les commandes. C’est assez fatiguant, je dois te dire. Mais de toute façon, nous avons le temps, et Rolf est pour l’instant trop occupé avec sa conférence. Mais je commence à réunir des documents qui pourraient ensuite nous aider. »Elle ne précisa toutefois pas qu’elle passait le plus clair de son temps libre à se renseigner sur la Gardienne des Sceaux et la magie des Sceaux, car elle doutait fortement que Lily y connaisse quelque chose. Bien que, même après ses recherches, elle ne savait pas grand-chose de plus ; elle songeait même à étendre ses recherches dans d’autres villes, voire dans d’autres pays – il lui semblait bien qu’une Université magique au sein d’une capitale d’un pays étranger étudiait spécifiquement cette magie. Même si pour l’heure, elle était incapable de se souvenir duquel – mais il lui suffirait certainement de demander. Mais cela impliquerait donc de devoir contacter l’ambassade du pays, et de préparer un séjour là-bas – et donc une justification pour cela. Elle espérait donc que cela lui viendrait « instinctivement » – les choses seraient ainsi bien plus simples.Et enfin, elle s’était également renseignée sur les trois Objets restants, et avait notamment pu obtenir leur localisation. Avec un peu de chance, s’ils décidaient enfin de la croire, ils pourraient placer ces Objets sous surveillance et ainsi éviter leur vol.Maintenant qu’elle y songeait, la venue de Ginny était donc une véritable aubaine, en quelque sorte. Enfin… encore fallait-il qu’elle réussisse à la convaincre, et c’était loin d’être gagné d’avance.La rouquine finit par pousser un soupir compatissant après une bouchée de viande en sauce, interrompant ainsi les pensées de Luna. Elle redressa la tête et la vit acquiescer à son encontre, avant de finalement dire :« Eh bien, ce ne doit pas être très passionnant, je te plains ! Mais tu ne sors pas trop tard, j’espère ? »Luna secoua la tête, l’air un peu distrait – son intérêt pour la conversation décroissait à vitesse grand V, mais elle se devait d’écouter poliment son amie.« Non, ça va. C’est surtout long et fastidieux, on fait toujours la même chose toute la journée, c’est lassant. Mais nous devrions avoir bientôt fini, heureusement ! »Cela parut rassurer Ginny, qui reprit rapidement :« Tant mieux, tu pourras passer à des choses bien plus intéressantes. A moins que tu ne participes au réaménagement du Musée ? C’est bien pour cela qu’ils avaient prévu de fermer le Musée à cette période de l’année, non ? »« Oui, c’est vrai. Mais non, je n’y participe pas ; de toute façon, le Musée m’emploie surtout pour les études de terrain, je n’ai rien à voir avec les expositions. A vrai dire, je ne devrais pas forcément faire cet inventaire, mais nous avons plusieurs absents, donc bon… »« Ah oui, c’est dommage. Bon retour ! » ajouta-t-elle ironiquement, mais Luna ne releva pas la plaisanterie.Elle acquiesça donc juste pensivement, et évita de peu de se mordre la lèvre. Comment introduire le sujet ? Elle savait que Ginny ne croyait pas aux Nargoles, il lui fallait donc être prudente sur ce qu’elle allait dire, afin d’essayer de la persuader du bienfondé de ses propos. Et ce avant qu’elle ne décide de tout rejeter en bloc, et de ne plus l’écouter.« Et de votre côté, ça va ? » lança finalement Luna d’un ton anodin pour donner le change, alors que seule la question des vols et des Nargoles l’intéressait vraiment. « Je suppose que toi aussi tu dois être assez occupée, ainsi qu’Harry. »« Oh, moi, ça va », répondit-elle. « Toujours la même chose, le tournoi de Quidditch va bientôt commencer, c’est l’effervescence au journal ! Mais je crois te l’avoir déjà dit ? »« Oui, chez Hermione », confirma Luna, et Ginny n’attendit pas pour embrayer sur le reste :« Oui, c’est ça. Pour Harry… bah, toujours l’affaire des vols. C’est effrayant, ils n’arrivent à rien, c’est tout simplement incroyable ! »« Je suppose… », chuchota Luna, les yeux dans le vague, mais Ginny continua comme si elle n’avait rien dit :« Et puis, je ne sais pas si tu es au courant pour l’agression au Ministère ? »Luna dut lutter avec elle-même pour éviter de réagir de manière étrange – plus que l’acceptable selon ses propres normes, bien entendu. Elle était parfaitement au courant, pour sûr… elle en était un peu l’auteure.Elle ignora la soudaine sècheresse de sa bouche, entreprit d’éponger la sauce avec un morceau de pain qu’elle avala, espérant la rendre un peu moins pâteuse, mastiqua et déglutit, avant de daigner répondre – mais à aucun moment Ginny ne soupçonna sa nervosité :« Bien sûr. Les gens en parlent beaucoup, en ce moment. »Elle aurait pu être mise au courant sans que Rolf ne lui montre le journal, et sans lire aucun journal, d’ailleurs. Le groupe avec lequel elle travaillait depuis quelques jours n’avait presque parlé que de cela durant la journée.Ginny hocha la tête et continua, la mine soudain inquiète :« Ils ne savent toujours pas qui en est le responsable, s’il était seul, mais en vérité, l’agent qui a été attaqué est entré dans la salle alors que cette personne utilisait le Miroir de Limar. Je pense que tu sais de quoi il s’agit. »Luna se contenta d’acquiescer pour répondre, désolée pour son amie de l’inquiétude qu’elle vivait pour rien. S’imaginer le pire pour son enfant… Mais il ne valait mieux pas qu’elle lui divulgue la vérité tout de suite – elle la prendrait juste pour une folle pour avoir pris tant de risques pour quelque chose dont elle dénigrait totalement l’existence. Il lui fallait tout d’abord réussir à la convaincre de l’urgence de la situation, puis l’informer au sujet de la Gardienne des Sceaux et de son rôle primordial dans cette histoire, lui révéler ensuite qu’il s’agissait de sa fille Lily et enfin lui parler de la manière dont elle avait obtenu cette dernière information. Seulement là.« Eh bien cette personne a visualisé ma fille, Lily ! » poursuivit Ginny, atterrée, lâchant sa fourchette par la même occasion.Un tintement clair signala sa rencontre avec l’assiette, mais il fut ignoré. Luna s’efforça de prendre une mine un peu inquiète – heureusement pour elle, elle n’avait jamais été d’une nature très anxieuse et ne le montrait que peu, cela devrait donc suffire. Et en effet, cela suffit.« Je suis désolée », parvint-elle à lâcher. « Je… sait-on pourquoi ? »La rouquine secoua la tête avec dépit.« Non, et cette affaire-là aussi piétine. Et personne ne comprend l’intérêt de la faire apparaitre dans ce foutu Miroir, mais pourquoi l’aurait-il fait, si ce n’est parce qu’il veut s’en prendre à elle ? »Pour révéler son identité en tant que potentielle future sauveuse de Londres. Mais elle ne comprendrait pas, pas pour l’instant.« Je suis sûre qu’ils trouveront bien quelque chose », la rassura-t-elle, bien qu’elle espérât le contraire.Ce n’était pas comme si elle souhaitait qu’on l’attrape.Ginny la remercia d’un maigre sourire, mais elle continuait de s’inquiéter pour sa fille.« Et donc, vous avez prévu quelque chose pour elle ? Je veux dire, la protéger ? »Elle venait de repenser à la sortie à Pré-au-Lard, et elle se rendait donc compte par la même occasion de la probabilité que la jeune fille ne sorte pas, par mesure de précaution. C’était tout bonnement ridicule, mais elle seule savait pourquoi. La malchance la poursuivait.Ginny haussa juste les épaules, mais ses traits démentaient sa prétendue désinvolture.« Non, tant qu’elle est à Poudlard, c’est bon. J’espère juste qu’elle n’ira pas à la sortie à Pré-au-Lard la semaine prochaine. Je sais qu’elle voulait y aller pour acheter sa robe de bal, mais ce n’est vraiment pas le moment ! »Luna se retint de grimacer. C’était bien ce qu’elle craignait. Elle n’avait définitivement pas de chance. Ce serait certainement la seule occasion qu’elle aurait pour discuter avec elle, avant les vacances de Noël ! Elle n’avait plus qu’à espérer que la jeune fille ignore tout de cette histoire ridicule, car après tout, ces détails n’étaient pas parus dans la presse.Ginny reprit sans apercevoir le trouble qui agitait son amie : « Enfin, je suppose qu’Harry a dû le lui dire dans sa lettre. »« Quelle lettre ? »Non… Par Merlin, qu’elle se trompe et que sa soudaine crainte reste infondée…« Harry lui a envoyé une lettre à ce sujet justement, il a donc dû lui en parler au passage, et lui dire de faire attention. J’espère qu’il lui a aussi dit de ne pas y aller. »… Bon, elle n’avait plus qu’à espérer que la jeune fille y aille malgré tout. Il fallait absolument qu’elle demande à ses fils ce qu’il en était sur place.Luna toussota alors qu’elle venait d’avaler de travers, avant de détourner un peu le sujet, qui était un peu gênant pour elle. Il fallait absolument qu’elle retourne sur celui des vols.« Mmh, et… Harry pense-t-il que cela pourrait avoir un lien avec les vols des Objets ? »« Que-que veux-tu dire ? Non, aucun, pourquoi ? Tu saurais quelque chose que… Oh par Merlin ! » fit brutalement Ginny, une pensée étrange surgissant soudain dans son esprit, et elle préféra lui en faire part, dans l’espoir que son amie le lui infirme : « Tu penses encore à tes histoires de Nargoles ? »Luna tritura les quelques légumes qui trainaient encore dans son assiette. Elle pouvait dès lors affirmer que la rouquine ne la croyait toujours pas, et c’était mal parti pour que cela change. Elle tâcha tout de même d’essayer, même si elle songeait, déconcertée, que cela ne servirait sans doute à rien, hormis à créer une situation désagréable entre elles. Mais elle ne pouvait pas se taire – la situation ne le permettait pas.« Ce ne sont pas des histoires, c’est la vérité ! » contra-t-elle alors avec désespoir, ne s’attirant qu’un secouement de tête désemparé de son amie. « Ginny, ils s’apprêtent à détruire Londres ! Et seule la Gardienne des Sceaux peut empêcher la mise en place du sort, et repousser les Nargoles ! »« Luna… »Mais Luna ne prêta aucune attention à la mine désabusée de son amie. Elle devait absolument le lui dire – au moins ça ! Pour ça, ils pouvaient intervenir !« Il faut protéger les Objets restants ! Il n’en reste plus que trois, et – »« Luna, cela fait déjà plusieurs jours que ces vols ont eu lieu, tu ne crois pas – »Mais Luna secoua la tête, comme pour rejeter l’idée que souhaitait évoquer Ginny.« Non, non, tu ne comprends pas. Ginny, ces affaires n’avancent pas parce que vous cherchez à mettre en cause des sorciers, alors qu’aucun n’est intervenu. »« Et quel serait le rapport entre ces vols et l’agression au Ministère ? » rétorqua Ginny, soudain lasse.Elle semblait abandonner l’idée de convaincre Luna qu’elle avait tort, mais n’était pas pour autant plus ouverte à sa découverte. Toutefois, Luna considéra que c’était peut-être un début relativement prometteur.« La Gardienne des Sceaux », affirma-t-elle.Ginny écarquilla les yeux sous l’incrédulité.« Quoi, la Gardienne des Sceaux ? Qu’est-ce encore que cette histoire ? »« C’est la seule personne qui puisse empêcher la mise en place du sort ! »Ginny fronça les sourcils, essayant de faire le lien entre cette idée ridicule et sa fille. Scepticisme qu’elle partagea :« Ok mais quel rapport avec… Quoi, Lily serait la Gardienne ?! »Ginny la fixa comme si l’idée lui paraissait juste complètement démente. Puis elle secoua la tête, comme pour se remettre les idées en place, et se frotta les tempes dans le même but.« Et… d’où sors-tu ça ? Du livre qui parlait de ce sort ? »Luna hocha la tête, et ses grands yeux semblèrent la supplier d’y croire. Ginny soupira. Malgré toute la bonne volonté du monde, c’était tout simplement impossible. Tout ce qu’elle racontait était impossible – elle ne savait pas pourquoi elle lui parlait soudain de sa fille et la reliait à cette mascarade, et ne voulait même pas le savoir. Toute cette histoire la fatiguait. Elle n’avait plus qu’une seule envie : s’en dépêtrer le plus vite possible, et passer à autre chose. Sans blesser son amie au passage – elle croyait juste bien faire.« Ecoute, Luna, euh… je ne sais pas pourquoi tu insistes autant ni pourquoi tu me dis ça, et encore moins d’où tu sors de telles… informations, mais – »« Parce qu’il faut intervenir ! Lily – »« Oui, oui, donc … Ecoute, j’en parlerai à Harry. Je suppose qu’au point où ils en sont, ils ne seraient pas contre un… nouvel éclairage. »Et Luna sut alors que Ginny n’y croyait pas un seul instant, et n’y croirait pas plus par la suite. Elle n’avait pas assez de preuves – pas du tout, en fait. Peut-être parlerait-elle effectivement à Harry ; mais ses paroles resteraient sans suite.Luna sentit sa gorge se nouer, mais se força à hocher la tête, un peu défaite, un peu comme pour la remercier. Harry n’y croirait pas plus que sa femme, même si elle lui en parlait. Ils ne voulaient pas comprendre. Ils refusaient de l’écouter, quoiqu’elle dise. Il n’y avait rien à espérer de leur côté, réalisa-t-elle alors avec dépit. Pire même : il fallait absolument qu’elle parvienne à convaincre Lily, et ils pouvaient constituer un obstacle, et la jeune fille représentait son unique chance.Mieux valait-il donc se taire, et qu’ils oublient temporairement cette histoire – car malheureusement, elle finirait par leur éclater au visage sans qu’ils ne comprennent pourquoi, si la situation venait à se dégrader, et c’était bien parti pour. Abattue, elle finit par chuchoter, comme vaincue :« D’accord… » ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Lily fixa les flocons qui voltigeaient élégamment derrière le carreau de la fenêtre, pour épaissir le tapis de neige qui s’amoncelait en contrebas. Elle poussa un soupir à fendre l’âme. D’ici quelques heures, les élèves à partir de la troisième année se rendraient à Pré-au-Lard. Mais pas elle. Pourquoi ? Toujours à cause de cette histoire à propos du type qui l’aurait regardé dans ce maudit Miroir. En une semaine, il ne s’était strictement rien produit, et elle en venait à se demander s’il se produirait quelque chose un jour – ou si tout cela n’était pas plutôt rien de moins qu’une sinistre farce.A la base, elle comptait tout de même y aller avec quelques amis – même si cela impliquait de désobéir, en quelque sorte, à son père. Mais Scorpius et Albus étaient collés pour la journée, et les autres, par un miracle qu’elle ne comprenait pas – ou presque – se trouvaient être indisponibles. Pourquoi avaient-ils fallu qu’ils se soucient seulement aujourd’hui d’un devoir de Potions affreux à rendre le lundi suivant ? N’auraient-ils pas pu le faire avant, sachant que cela faisait bien deux semaines qu’il avait été donné ?Et comme par hasard, il avait fallu qu’ils lui annoncent cela dans la matinée, l’air catastrophés, avant de se jeter en direction de la bibliothèque, la laissant toute seule dans la salle commune des Serpentard. Mais elle ne parvenait même pas à leur en vouloir. Quoique si, un peu quand même.Elle hésitait encore à s’y rendre toute seule, mais cette perspective l’enchantait beaucoup moins. Car à part chercher sa robe, elle n’aurait strictement rien à faire. Elle ne croyait presque plus à cette histoire de possible attentat, mais elle ne voulait pas inquiéter son père, qui stressait déjà suffisamment à cause de toutes ces affaires encore non résolues – en fait, la situation n’avait pas évolué, ils n’avaient toujours rien. Cette histoire ridicule l’agaçait au plus haut point. Tout serait tellement plus simple sans.Elle pouvait toujours se joindre à un groupe d’élèves avec qui elle s’entendait bien, même si elle ne les qualifierait pas d’amis. Elle avait tout d’abord pensé demander à Rose de l’accompagner, mais elle devait être au courant de la soi-disant menace qui pesait sur elle, sa mère avait dû lui en parler. Cela pourrait expliquer les regards étranges et insistants qu’elle jetait fréquemment à son encontre. C’était Scorpius qui le lui avait fait « remarquer », même s’il avait plutôt cru que c’était lui qu’elle regardait, et qu’il avait ainsi interprété cela comme un signe, comme quoi elle aurait peut-être reconsidéré son opinion le concernant. Il avait été clairement déçu du retour qu’il avait eu. Mais c’était habituel.Elle se leva de sa position inconfortable, collée à la fenêtre, pour s’en dégager, puis traversa la pièce en direction de la sortie. Elle prit soin de se vêtir chaudement, recouvrant ses vêtements de sa cape de sorcier. Elle avait besoin d’air, et de se dégourdir les jambes. Et la salle trop silencieuse à son goût ne l’aidait pas à se décider.Déjà, les couloirs étaient un peu plus remplis, et cela la détendit. Elle continua de marcher, perdue dans ses pensées, pesant toujours le pour et le contre. Elle n’était pas plus avancée dans sa réflexion, lorsqu’elle percuta quelqu’un. Cela la fit reculer de quelques pas, étourdie.« Oh, je suis désolé », s’excusa alors une voix masculine qu’elle reconnut instantanément, la faisant légèrement rosir. « Lily ? »Elle leva la tête pour plonger ses yeux dans ceux du jeune homme face à elle. Blond, grand et svelte, Lysandre Dragonneau, de même que son jumeau qui lui ressemblait presque comme deux gouttes d’eau mais qu’elle parvenait à distinguer, n’était pas ce que l’on pouvait considérer comme un beau jeune homme.Mais depuis la fin de l’année dernière, elle lui trouvait un certain charme, et ne pouvait s’empêcher de se sentir attirée par lui. Elle n’était pas amoureuse, du moins pas encore, peut-être, elle n’en savait rien, et dans le fond elle s’en fichait. Elle ne voulait pas se poser la question, sachant que le jeune homme la considérait à peine –il la traitait tout juste comme une vague connaissance. Ce qu’elle était, malheureusement.En tout cas, elle était heureuse qu’il connaisse toutefois son prénom – et elle se refusa à penser qu’en vérité, peu l’ignoraient.« Ce n’est rien », répondit-elle avec un sourire, après avoir fini de se masser l’épaule qui la lançait. « C’est moi qui suis désolée, je ne regardais pas devant moi. »Lysandre haussa les épaules pour toute réponse, comme si cela n’était pas utile. Il balaya du regard l’espace autour d’elle, avant de le reporter sur la jeune fille :« Tu es toute seule ? » s’étonna-t-il alors.Lily se demanda juste pourquoi cela semblait le surprendre autant. Elle était très souvent accompagnée de ses amis, mais ce n’était pas la première fois non plus qu’elle se trouvait sans. A moins qu’il ne sache pour le danger que son père supposait qu’elle encourait ? C’était possible : Luna était une amie proche de sa mère, et elle était rentrée de son voyage d’études depuis quelques semaines seulement. Forcément, sa mère devait lui rendre visite et inversement pour rattraper le temps perdu, en quelque sorte.« Oui, Albus et Scorpius sont en retenue, et les autres sont à la bibliothèque, bosser le devoir de Potions qu’ils n’ont pas fait. »Elle se retint de demander « Et toi ? », sachant que c’était plus commun pour lui de déambuler seul dans les couloirs, même si ce n’était pas très fréquent. Et comme il ne semblait parfois pas y avoir de raison, il n’allait sans doute pas lui répondre.Lysandre acquiesça, puis son regard se perdit dans le vague, et Lily songea qu’il ressemblait véritablement à sa mère, jusque dans l’attitude qu’il adoptait, parfois. Un silence tranquille s’installa entre eux, et apaisa la jeune fille. C’était un de ses mérites, aussi ; il dégageait une aura si apaisante que sans faire grand-chose, il parvenait à la détendre de manière spectaculaire. Il n’y avait pas besoin de mots pour combler le silence ; il paraissait si naturel, en sa présence, et n’était en aucun cas gênant – il était même ressourçant.Mais le regard du jeune homme revint bientôt vers elle, et elle recentra son attention sur lui. Pour autant, elle se sentait tout aussi paisible.« Mais si tes amis sont en retenue ou à la bibliothèque pour bosser, avec qui iras-tu à Pré-au-Lard ? »« Je n’en sais rien », avoua Lily en réfléchissant – c’était exactement la question qu’elle se posait depuis plusieurs minutes déjà. « Je ne sais même pas si j’irai, en fait. »Il prit un air vaguement abasourdi.« Ah ? Pourquoi cela ? Tu devrais facilement trouver des personnes avec qui y aller, non ? »« Peut-être, je n’en sais rien… Mon père m’a demandé de ne pas sortir de Poudlard pour le moment, mais il faudrait que j’y aille pour ma robe pour le bal de Noël. »Lysandre la fixa d’un air étrange, ne comprenant sans doute pas pourquoi son père ne souhaitait pas qu’elle s’y rende, tout à coup. Surtout qu’il avait préalablement dû signer une autorisation de sortie pour qu’elle ait l’occasion d’hésiter autant, non ?« Mais tu ne peux pas voir ça avec ton cavalier ? Je veux dire, tu en as bien un, non ? »« Oui, mais il est en colle », fit Lily en grimaçant.Comme chaque année, elle y allait avec Scorpius, ce dernier refusant d’inviter toute autre jeune fille que Rose, et cette dernière refusant même l’idée de se faire inviter par le jeune homme. Et donc, irrémédiablement, il finissait par y aller avec elle, car elle était la seule qu’il pouvait se résoudre à accompagner. Pas qu’elle n’était pas souvent invitée – elle recevait même de nombreuses propositions. Mais les seuls qui l’avaient intéressée ou l’intéressaient lui paraissaient inaccessibles, et elle n’osait pas le leur demander. Comme Lysandre, par exemple – il y allait avec une pimbêche de Serdaigle, une septième année maigre et insipide. Elle se demandait bien pourquoi – et espérait que ce ne fût pas sa petite amie, bien que rien dans leur comportement ne semblait l’indiquer. Et non, elle n’était pas de mauvaise foi.« Tu peux venir avec nous, si tu veux. »La proposition du jeune homme la fit sursauter, et elle rougit en réponse. Elle se mordit la lèvre en sentant son cœur battre un peu plus vite, mais il ne semblait pas se rendre compte de son émoi. Il précisa :« En fait, il n’y aura que Lorcan et quelques Serdaigles de notre année – je ne sais pas si tu les connais. »Il paraissait sérieux. Il était sérieux, et attendait visiblement une réponse, d’un air détaché propre à la famille Lovegood – presque rêveur, mais sans l’être tout à fait.« Je… », finit-elle par dire, un peu hébétée pour le coup. « Ok ! » accepta-t-elle alors, lorsqu’elle se rendit compte de l’opportunité qui s’offrait à elle.Après tout, quelques Serdaigle en trop n’étaient pas la mer à boire, et elle pourrait discuter avec Lysandre, comme ça !Lysandre lui adressa un petit sourire, auquel elle répondit.« Ok. Tu préfères que l’on se rejoigne dès le départ ou plus tard dans Pré-au-Lard ? »« Dès le début, ça me va. »« Ok, à toute à l’heure, alors ! »Après un dernier signe de la main, il s’éloigna, et Lily supposa qu’il se dirigeait vers la bibliothèque. Satisfaite, elle reprit son chemin vers l’extérieur. Au moins, sa décision était prise, et sa journée promettait d’être bien. Même si son père ne serait pas ravi de l’apprendre – mais après tout, avait-il besoin de le savoir ?xoxoLa couche de neige s’était encore épaissie en quelques heures, et Lily commençait à se demander s’il ne lui aurait pas fallu mettre des bottes plus hautes – celles-ci lui couvraient à peine les jambes jusqu’à mi-mollet. Ses pieds s’enfonçaient profondément, mais c’était aussi le cas des autres, qui n’étaient pas plus rapides qu’elle. Cela la rassura un peu – elle n’était donc pas la seule à galérer ainsi. Car il fallait le dire, elle n’était pas autant à l’aise qu’avec ses propres amis – bien que les Serdaigle se fussent montrés très gentils avec elle, et l’avaient volontiers intégré dans le groupe et dans la conversation. Malgré cela, elle n’aurait pas aimé tomber lamentablement devant eux – et surtout pas devant Lysandre.Le village se trouvait à quelques centaines de mètres devant le groupe, mais avec le vent et le froid qui s’insinuaient dans leurs capes et qui les fouettaient violemment, il leur fallut quelques minutes pour l’atteindre. Ils gagnèrent rapidement la rue principale et s’y arrêtèrent. Ils tâchèrent juste de ne pas gêner le passage en se mettant sur le côté, et se regroupèrent pour former un cercle, qui inclut même la seule Serpentarde du groupe – et la seule à ne pas être de Serdaigle, d’ailleurs.« Bon. Je suppose que l’on devrait commencer par les achats pour Noël, histoire de s’en débarrasser au plus vite », commença alors un Serdaigle, un dénommé Cédric. « Et comme ça, il n’y aura pas le problème du manque de temps. »« Sauf que certains veulent s’acheter des tenues et d’autres des cadeaux », répliqua un autre Serdaigle dont Lily n’avait pas retenu le nom.Elle se rappelait juste qu’il avait une connotation exotique, qui s’accordait à son visage métissé et sa chevelure sombre. Lorcan haussa les épaules. Le peu de neige qui s’y était accumulée frissonna, et quelques monceaux glissèrent.« Nous n’avons qu’à nous séparer pour aller plus vite, puis nous rejoindre quelque part ensuite – aux Trois Balais, par exemple. Qui voulait s’acheter une tenue ? »Seules Lily et une fille de Serdaigle aux longs cheveux bruns, Clara, se signalèrent. Cela étonna vaguement la Serpentarde – il y avait pourtant trois autres filles dans le groupe. Elles avaient dû être plus prévoyantes qu’elle, pour le coup. Cela n’aurait pas été plus mal si elle en avait fait de même, car si elle ne trouvait aucune robe qui la satisfasse ici, elle aurait un léger problème. Même si, concrètement, elle aurait quand même de quoi se mettre – car espérant ainsi que sa fille n’aille pas au village, Ginny lui avait envoyé une robe par hibou. Belle, assurément, et différente de l’année précédente, mais quelque chose la gênait, et elle n’arrivait pas à considérer cette robe comme sa tenue de bal. Peut-être parce que ce n’était pas elle qui l’avait choisie. Elle était à son goût, pourtant. Mais ce n’était pas elle qui l’avait choisie.« Et vous comptez acheter des cadeaux aussi ? » demanda Lorcan en regardant les deux jeunes filles qui se trouvaient être l’une à côté de l’autre.« Pour ma part, non », répondit Clara. « J’ai déjà tout acheté à Londres – je n’ai fait que ça, d’ailleurs, et j’ai un peu oublié le bal au passage. Et toi ? » fit-elle à l’adresse de Lily.« Non plus », répondit cette dernière. « Pareil, tout est déjà réglé de ce côté-là. »Les autres acquiescèrent à ces mots.« Bon, eh bien, c’est bien simple », fit alors le métisse. « Vous allez acheter vos tenues, et nous, nous finissons nos achats de notre côté. Et vous deux, vous – »« Nous irons avec elles », statua Lysandre en désignant les deux jeunes filles, et Lorcan consentit d’un signe de tête.Car après tout, les deux jumeaux n’avaient aucun achat à effectuer. Ils n’avaient donc qu’à suivre un groupe, en attendant que tout le monde se rejoigne au bar.« Ok », fit Cédric. « Aux Trois Balais alors ! D’ici une heure, cela devrait suffire, non ? »« Hey, tu es un peu optimiste, là ! » rigola une petite blonde –elle ne se souvenait pas de son nom à elle non plus, mais il fallait avouer qu’elle était de ceux qui avaient le moins parlé durant le trajet, avec les jumeaux.Cédric secoua, l’air mi-amusé, mi-médusé.« Ok, mais… il ne vous faut quand même pas deux heures, si ? »« Bah, on n’a qu’à se dire une heure, une heure et demie », statua Lorcan. « Rien n’empêche ceux qui ont fini en premier de s’y rendre avant le reste du groupe. »Les autres marquèrent leur accord d’un signe de tête. Un silence s’installa durant quelques secondes, et alors que Lily commençait à se demander quand ils allaient bientôt bouger, Cédric s’exclama :« Bien, on fait comme ça ? Bien. A tout à l’heure, dans ce cas ! »La plupart des Serdaigles suivit le jeune homme, et après quelques secondes, ne restaient plus que quatre personnes. Lily, Clara, et les deux jumeaux qui avaient préféré rester avec elles.Le quatuor se dirigea donc vers la boutique Au Gai Chiffon.xoxoLe livre retourna à sa place dans un bruit sourd, mais Luna ne faisait déjà plus attention à lui. La librairie de Pré-au-Lard pouvait offrir des ouvrages réellement intéressants, quoique pas spécialement difficiles à trouver. Mais Luna n’était pas là pour cela.La raison de sa venue venait de passer un peu plus loin, à l’extérieur, visible à travers la vitre qui donnait sur la rue principale. Lily et trois autres adolescents venaient de sortir d’une boutique de vêtements, et Luna n’eut pas besoin de réfléchir pour en deviner le but. Ils avaient fait la même chose, au même âge.Elle s’empressa aussitôt de payer le livre qu’elle avait pris – un Essai en rapport avec son étude en cours, qu’elle commençait à rédiger chez elle depuis le début du réaménagement du Musée qui avait commencé la veille – puis de sortir, craignant de perdre le groupe de vue. Mais le problème était qu’elle ne savait pas comment l’aborder. Ses fils sauraient la raison de sa présence, mais Lily surtout ne comprendrait pas. Et encore moins si elle se greffait comme ça à une sortie entre jeunes.Aussitôt dehors, le froid l’assaillit, et elle referma sa cape autour d’elle, tout en tenant fermement son paquet. Elle retrouva le groupe d’adolescents au bout de quelques secondes, mais ne s’avança pas vers eux. L’hésitation l’assaillait toujours.Du coin de l’œil, elle vit tout d’abord une silhouette se détacher du quatuor et s’éloigner. Elle en aperçut juste les longs cheveux noirs. La chevelure rousse était toujours face à elle.Ne sachant toujours pas comment aborder le trio, elle se détourna d’eux, et se dirigea vers une boulangerie, tout en gardant un œil sur eux. La boutique présentait une grande baie vitrée, qui offrait une large vue sur la rue et les gens qui y circulaient, ce pourquoi elle l’avait choisie.Luna s’avança lentement vers les étalages et scruta les diverses pâtisseries et autres gâteaux présentés devant elle avec un regard à peine intéressé. Elle jeta également un coup d’œil sur les petites tables présentes sur le côté, qui permettaient de consommer sur place – il était assuré que, si elle devait acheter quelque chose, elle ne le mangerait pas dehors. Sortir les mains des gants serait alors une épreuve, et manger avec une mission impossible.Elle ne se rendit pas compte que les personnes qu’elle dévisageait depuis plusieurs minutes déjà venaient d’entrer dans la boutique. Elle ne le sut que lorsqu’une voix la fit sursauter en l’interpellant :« Oh, bonjour Luna ! Quel hasard de vous croiser ici ! Comment allez-vous ? »Luna se retourna avec un sourire, se gardant de penser que cela n’avait rien d’un hasard, et préféra répondre à la politesse :« Bonjour Lily, salut les garçons, je vais bien, et vous ? »Les deux jumeaux se contentèrent d’un hochement de tête en direction de leur mère.« Ça va », préféra répondre Lily, évitant d’évoquer la soi-disant agression qui devait soi-disant la viser – si son père n’avait pas cru bon de lui en parler, elle ne le ferait pas, d’autant plus qu’elle y croyait de moins en moins.Et puis de toute façon, ce n’était pas elle qui était susceptible de la dénoncer à son père, non ?« Je suis surtout venue trouver une robe pour le bal de Noël », continua-t-elle en levant le paquet concerné pour le désigner. « Et vous ? »Luna fixa quelques secondes encore les présentoirs, et finit par arrêter son choix sur un assortiment de mignardises. En attendant donc l’attention du vendeur, elle répondit :« Je cherchais des documents pour la rédaction de mon étude. Et puis, cela faisait longtemps que je n’étais pas venue ici », expliqua-t-elle, d’un ton presque nostalgique.En réalité, depuis la fin de ses années à Poudlard, ses amis et elle fréquentaient de moins en moins le village, pris dans leurs occupations respectives, et cela faisait bien deux ans qu’elle n’y avait plus remis les pieds.Lily hocha la tête d’un air compréhensif, une lueur de curiosité apparue dans le regard.« Pour votre étude en Bulgarie ? Maman m’a dit que vous étiez rentrés il y a un peu plus d’une semaine. »« Oui, c’est cela. »« Alors, ça s’est bien passé ? Comment c’était ? » la questionna Lily avec enthousiasme, tandis que le vendeur s’avançait enfin vers eux.« Vous commanderez quelque chose ? » demanda ce dernier en dévisageant tour à tour les différents membres du petit groupe.Luna jeta un coup d’œil intrigué aux adolescents.« Moi oui, et vous ? » fit-elle à leur adresse.Les trois s’avancèrent de quelques pas.« Oui », fit Lily en lorgnant les tartelettes. « On a fini en avance, on n’a donné rendez-vous aux autres que dans une demi-heure. »Luna désigna l’assortiment avant de demander :« Au fait, où sont tes amis ? »« Scorp’ en retenue, et les autres à la bibliothèque, bosser un devoir de Potions pour lundi. Ce n’est pas très malin de leur part. Mais je suis contente d’être avec vous, hein », fit-elle soudain à l’adresse des deux jumeaux en se retournant vivement, comme pour les rassurer.Mais ils n’en avaient pas besoin, et ils lui retournèrent juste un sourire distrait.Lily porta finalement son choix sur une tourte aux pommes caramélisées, et les deux garçons sur une tartelette à la citrouille et un fondant au chocolat. Ils prirent également des boissons, et la commande fut rapidement réglée. Les quatre se dirigèrent alors de concert vers une petite table au fond de la salle sans avoir besoin de se concerter, pour avoir un peu de tranquillité.Une fois installées, suite à l’insistance de Lily, Luna raconta les mois passés en Bulgarie, les péripéties qu’ils avaient traversées au cours de l’étude sur les dragons, et les excursions effectuées avec son mari à la découverte de la beauté des paysages du massif des Rhodopes et de ses alentours. Pendant quelques instants, elle en oublia les Nargoles et toutes ses inquiétudes, se replongeant avec délice dans ses souvenirs de cette période ô combien insouciante.A la fin de son récit, Lily soupira d’envie.« Ce devait être génial. Je ne suis pas sûre de pouvoir tenir aussi longtemps loin de tout, et surtout de ma famille et de mes amis, mais quel sentiment de liberté on doit ressentir ! »Luna réfléchit quelques secondes. Oui, c’était vrai : malgré les contraintes liées à l’étude, ce sentiment ne l’avait pas quitté, et elle s’en était gorgée durant tous ces mois.« Oh, on s’y fait », répondit-elle en baissant son regard vers la table. « Et puis, ce n’est pas pour un temps indéterminé – nous savions que nous allions rentrer, et quand. »« Oui, c’est vrai. Mais ce n’est pas un peu long, non ? »« Long ? Un peu… dans la mesure où durant ce laps de temps, nous ne pouvions pas vous voir », ajouta-t-elle notamment à l’adresse de ses deux fils, en se mettant à les fixer. « Même si vous êtes venus durant les vacances d’été. »« Vous y avez été ?! » s’exclama Lily avec enthousiasme en se retournant vers les deux jumeaux, dont les regards se croisèrent et sur leurs lèvres se dessinèrent des sourires amusés face à l’exultation qu’exprimait la jeune fille.« Oui, un peu plus d’un mois », répondit Lorcan.« Génial ! Et c’était comment ? »« Mmh… Génial ? »Lily se mit à rire.« Ca ne m’apporte pas beaucoup d’informations ! »« Que veux-tu que l’on dise de plus ? Maman a déjà tout dit ! »« Et en seulement un mois, nous avions de quoi faire, nous ne risquions pas de nous ennuyer », compléta Lysandre en levant son verre avant d’avaler une gorgée.« Oh ! Et vous, ça ne vous est jamais arrivé de vous ennuyer ? » fit alors Lily en reportant son attention sur leur ainée.« Eh bien… non. Nous avions largement de quoi occuper notre temps ! »« J’imagine ! »Tous restèrent silencieux quelques secondes, le temps d’avaler quelques bouchées supplémentaires. Mais l’histoire des Nargoles était finalement revenue à l’esprit de Luna, et l’inquiétude qui l’accompagnait. Il lui fallait toujours convaincre Lily de l’aider, et c’était l’occasion rêvée.« Et sinon, de ton côté ? » fit-elle alors d’un ton anodin, tout en priant pour que, d’une manière ou d’une autre, le sujet dérive vers ce qui l’intéressait réellement.« Bof, les études… Rien d’intéressant. J’ai mes BUSES cette année, donc bon. Ce sont plutôt mes parents qui ont eu de quoi s’occuper : maman avec le championnat du monde de Quidditch, papa avec plusieurs grosses affaires, dont notamment celle avec les Mangemorts évadés. Tu es au courant ? »« J’en ai entendu parler. »Mais c’était loin de réellement l’intéresser, pour l’heure.« Papa s’en est presque arraché les cheveux. Je ne suis même pas sûre qu’ils aient réussi à déterminer comment ils avaient bien pu s’évader, d’ailleurs. Enfin, peut-être que si, mais j’ai arrêté de suivre quand j’ai su qu’ils les avaient tous rattrapés. Heureusement, ça a été résolu. »« Ils ont eu le temps de faire quelque chose ? »Luna n’en avait retenu que les très grandes lignes. Elle n’avait même pas lu l’article qui avait traité de l’affaire. Elle savait surtout qu’ils étaient accusés de l’apparition de l’éclat de lumière à Londres sans que rien ne les relie vraiment, alors qu’ils n’avaient strictement rien à voir.« Je ne crois pas », intervint Lorcan en reposant son verre. « Il ne me semble pas que la presse ait mentionné quoique ce soit là-dessus. »« S’il y a eu des problèmes à cause d’eux, mon père ne m’en a pas parlé », ajouta Lily. « Mais ils les ont rattrapés en moins d’une semaine, ils n’auraient pas eu le temps de faire grand-chose, de toute manière. Il y a bien eu cet éclat de lumière, mais ils n’ont rien pour le prouver, et de toute façon on s’en fiche parce que ça n’a eu aucune conséquence. »Les autres acquiescèrent juste, sans relever le fait qu’ils auraient tout de même pu faire plein de choses durant ce laps de temps, justement. Les enquêteurs étaient encore incapables d’expliquer à quoi ils avaient bien pu passer leur temps hors de prison.Lily scruta distraitement le liquide effectuer de lentes spirales dans son verre, songeuse.« Et ensuite », poursuivit-elle en relevant la tête vers ses interlocuteurs, « les vols au Muséum et au Ministère… incompréhensibles. Et le pire, c’est qu’ils n’ont vraiment rien ! »Luna se raidit légèrement. C’était le moment parfait, celui qu’elle avait attendu avec tant d’appréhension. Allait-elle réagir comme ses parents et les autres avant elle ? Harry et Ginny lui avaient-ils parlé de sa « folle théorie », la convainquant que ce n’étaient que de pures affabulations ? Elle espérait bien que non, car l’avenir de la ville dépendait de la jeune fille et de sa décision. Et tandis que cette dernière fronçait les sourcils, levant son verre pour avaler une gorgée, elle se lança :« A propos de ça… Tes parents t’ont parlé de ce que je leur ai dit à ce sujet ? »La mine interrogative de la jeune fille tandis qu’elle levait la tête vers elle suffit à répondre à sa question. Elle en fut rassurée. « Non, pourquoi ? » Lily jeta un bref coup d’œil vers Lysandre, qui haussa juste légèrement les épaules. Elle cligna des yeux, un peu dépassée par les événements pour l’occasion, puis reporta son regard vers la quadragénaire. Elle se rendit soudain compte du malaise qui l’habitait, et qu’elle ne comprit pas.« Tu sais quelque chose là-dessus ? Papa m’a juste dit que la piste la plus probable était le trafic d’Objets magiques. »En vérité, Lily ne s’était pas réellement intéressée à cette histoire ; elle était confiante en les capacités de son père et des autres Aurors, qui sauraient débusquer les quelques tarés responsables de ces vols. Mais à voir la tête de Luna, ce n’était pas du tout de cela dont elle parlait. Elle semblait même considérer cette hypothèse comme… complètement foireuse. Cela l’étonna.« Oui, il m’en a parlé, aussi… Il considère que les deux vols n’ont aucun lien. »Lily devina que Luna ne pensait pas du tout la même chose. Cela l’intrigua. Savait-elle quelque chose que les autres ignoraient ? Et pourquoi son père ne lui en avait pas parlé, insistant plutôt sur le fait qu’ils n’avaient rien ? Une piste restait une piste, on ne pouvait pas l’écarter sans même l’avoir explorée !« Mais pourquoi seraient-ils liés, d’après toi ? » demanda-t-elle, curieuse.Son intérêt était redoublé par l’air soudain sérieux et grave qu’arborait la femme face à elle, qu’elle n’avait jamais vu auparavant, ou dont elle n’avait aucun souvenir. Elle paraissait toujours distraite, rêveuse, voire un peu distante parfois par rapport aux événements qui se déroulaient près d’elle. Là voir ainsi était donc réellement étrange, et elle ne savait pas si elle devait craindre quelque chose ou non.Luna reposa la mini-tartelette qu’elle tenait depuis quelques secondes sans bouger dans un geste qui apparut solennel aux yeux de Lily, comme si les minutes qui allaient suivre se révèleraient particulièrement importantes.« Connais-tu la magie des Sceaux ? »Là, Lily ne comprit pas du tout le rapport. Elle fixa la femme face à elle quelques secondes et jeta quelques coups d’œil aux deux jeunes hommes qui les accompagnaient et qui semblaient perdus dans leurs pensées, ne pouvant ainsi lui apporter aucun élément de réponse.Comme Luna la jaugeait avec insistance, elle finit par bégayer, le ton hésitant :« Bah, pas grand-chose… Ca ressemble aux Runes, en plus compliqué. »Et en bien moins connu. C’était à peu près tout ce qu’elle était capable de dire là-dessus : mais après tout, ils n’avaient reçu aucun cours à ce sujet, et la plupart des sorciers n’auraient pas pu répondre mieux qu’elle.« Elle intervient dans la genèse de plusieurs sorts », expliqua Luna, face à une Lily qui se perdait peu à peu dans son incompréhension. « Ils sont généralement créés à l’avance, et stockés dans des Objets en un ensemble complexe, permettant de les utiliser. Je ne saurais pas te dire comment cela fonctionne exactement – ni même dans ses grandes lignes. Mais parmi les Objets volés, plusieurs correspondent aux objets intervenant dans la genèse d’un sort bien particulier mais mal connu – trop mal connu, car il est étonnamment complexe, et nécessite un nombre d’Objets assez conséquent. »Lily fronça les sourcils. Elle était sûre que son père ne lui avait jamais parlé de cela. Mais pourquoi ?« Et ? » fit Lily, intriguée, tandis que son cœur commençait à battre plus vite.Elle sentait l’inquiétude se distiller en elle ; assurément, ce qui allait suivre n’allait pas lui plaire.« Si le sort est mis en place », continua Luna, « cela entrainera la destruction de l’endroit à partir duquel il est lancé – de Londres. »… Quoi ? Non, décidément, son père ne lui en avait vraiment pas parlé ! Par peur de l’inquiéter ?« Mais-mais qui voudrait faire une chose pareille ? » s’écria finalement Lily, horrifiée, après un hoquet.Et par Merlin, comment seule Luna pouvait-elle être au courant ? Comment l’avait-elle découvert ?Le visage de la femme face à elle s’assombrit, et elle pensa aussitôt que ce devait être particulièrement grave – mais ça l’était incontestablement, on parlait de la destruction de Londres, et de la mort de tous ceux qui seraient présents à ce moment-là ! Cela concernait des millions de personnes !« Ce sont les Nargoles. »Le temps sembla soudain se suspendre. Lily cligna tout d’abord des yeux, se demandant si c’était un groupe de personnes qui se faisaient appeler ainsi, et mit quelques secondes avant de se rappeler d’où elle avait entendu ce terme – à part les quelques fois où Luna les mentionnait sans que la jeune fille ne comprenne. Ah oui. Ses parents, entre autres. Une créature imaginaire parmi beaucoup d’autres inventée par les Lovegood.Lily poussa un soupir de soulagement. La panique qui avait grandi en elle avait disparu d’un seul coup. Elle ne savait pas pourquoi Luna sortait des choses pareilles, mais elle préférait mieux cela à un vrai danger qui menaçait la ville entière. Même si elle ne comprenait pas d’où cette idée absurde lui était soudain venue.Luna ne manqua ni le soupir, ni le sourire causé par le soulagement de la jeune fille, et s’assombrit davantage tandis que son cœur se serrait. Elle non plus ne la croyait pas. Comment la convaincre de l’aider, si le simple fait de ne pas croire aux Nargoles balayait l’éventualité d’une menace pesant sur eux ? Luna osait à peine imaginer sa réaction lorsqu’elle lui dirait qu’elle était la Gardienne des Sceaux !« Lily… », reprit Luna, la gorge nouée. « Ce n’est pas une plaisanterie. Les Nargoles existent vraiment. Et aujourd’hui, ils s’apprêtent à détruire Londres ! »A son grand dépit, Lily prit un air gêné. Elle devait la prendre pour une folle qu’il fallait ménager et ne pas brusquer. Fantastique. C’était bien le moment.La jeune fille détourna le regard vers les deux jumeaux. Ils la regardaient d’un air insistant. Son malaise augmenta. Même s’ils semblaient ne pas trop comprendre d’où leur mère pouvait bien sortir ce dont elle parlait, elle savait qu’ils croyaient tous deux aux Nargoles, ce pourquoi ils prenaient les paroles de leur mère avec davantage de sérieux. Elle était la seule de la tablée à ne pas croire à ces conneries. Pourquoi cela était-il tombé sur elle, sérieusement ?Comme Lily était déterminée à garder le silence – à défaut d’avoir quelque chose à dire, elle était encore trop choquée par l’absurdité de la situation, et surtout du sérieux de Luna vis-à-vis de cela – Luna reprit, hésitante :« Ecoute, ce n’est pas tout. Le problème est que… ce sort est très complexe, et… apparemment, il n’existerait qu’un seul moyen d’empêcher sa mise en œuvre. »« Ah oui ? » souffla finalement Lily, pas crédule et se désintéressant progressivement de la conversation.« Oui. Toi. »Lily se figea. Ah non. Non, Luna n’allait certainement pas l’inclure dans ses délires !« Pardon ? » grogna Lily, qui se mordit ensuite les lèvres pour éviter de continuer d’un ton qu’elle savait qu’il serait trop agressif.Mais elle ne pouvait s’empêcher de sentir la colère monter en elle, à cause de Luna. Elle la mettait dans une situation embarrassante, étant la seule du quatuor à ne pas croire en ces stupidités, et voulait même l’intégrer dans son trip !« Comme je te l’ai dit, ce sort fait intervenir la magie des Sceaux. Et apparemment, seule la Gardienne des Sceaux peut intervenir. Et c’est toi. »Lily retint un rire jaune. Non, décidément, c’était trop ridicule pour être en colère contre elle. En réalité, elle lui faisait même plutôt pitié, à s’effrayer de la sorte pour des absurdités pareilles.« Et vous sortez ça d’où ? Parce que je suis désolée de devoir vous décevoir, mais je ne connais rien là-dedans ! »« Je… C’est le Miroir de Limar qui me l’a dit. »« Le quoi ? »Lily crut tout d’abord à un objet foireux encore inventé de toutes pièces par la femme face à elle, avant de se rappeler d’où elle avait pu en entendre parler. Son père, encore. Il existait bien, et se trouvait d’ailleurs au Ministère.Le Miroir. L’agression au Ministère. Elle.« Quoi ? Tu-tu… »Aurait-elle un lien avec cette agression, et était-elle responsable de l’apparition de son image à sa surface ? Etait-elle réellement allée aussi loin pour ça ?« Tu… c’était toi, au Ministère ? »Elle ne précisa pas davantage, et sut qu’elle n’en avait pas besoin. Luna avait parfaitement compris la référence, et son air suffit à la renseigner. Lily en fut coite. Ce n’était pas possible. Comment serait-ce possible ? Etait-elle donc bête à ce point ?Elle eut une petite pensée en songeant que cette partie-là lui paraissait toutefois plus crédible que tout le reste. Mais peut-être était-ce parce que la théorie de l’attentat s’effritait dans sa tête, et que cette version-là expliquait bien mieux l’absence de répercussions sur sa personne, ainsi que la raison pour laquelle on l’avait visualisée alors que cela semblait sans intérêt. Parce que c’était indirect – elle avait demandé « la Gardienne des Sceaux », pas Lily Potter.Mais comment avait-elle réussi à l’avoir elle, alors ? L’aurait-elle confondu avec quelqu’un d’autre ? Ainsi que les Aurors ? Ou serait-ce plutôt le Miroir qui se serait trompé ?« Oui », confirma Luna. « Je suis allée là-bas pour trouver qui était la Gardienne des Sceaux, afin de lui demander de m’aider, et c’était toi. »Lily secoua la tête, perturbée. Avant de pleinement réfléchir sur ses derniers mots. Elle en sursauta, atterrée. Elle ne comprenait même pas quelle logique tordue avait bien pu suivre son interlocutrice pour en arriver là.« De t’aider ? Tu veux que je t’aide ? Mais pour – »Ah oui. La destruction de Londres, les Nargoles. La Gardienne des Sceaux. Elle.Elle préféra détourner le regard de Luna, se concentrant sur le morceau de tourte qui lui restait ainsi que le contenu de son verre. Elle entreprit de les engloutir rapidement. Il fallait absolument qu’elle s’éloigne. Cela devenait du grand n’importe quoi, et elle gâchait son après-midi et sa sortie – avec Lysandre, en plus – pour son histoire de Nargoles. Elle n’allait certainement pas se laisser embarquer là-dedans. Mais en même temps, elle ne se voyait pas envoyer chier Luna juste devant ses fils – juste devant Lysandre.« Oui. Tu – »« Ecoutez, je suis désolée, mais… », la coupa soudain Lily, embarrassée, jetant un regard à la dérobée vers les jumeaux qui la fixaient toujours. « Il-il faut que je rentre. Je… »« Mais – »« Bonne chance avec vos Nargoles. »Lily se rabattit alors sur la méthode la plus facile, et la seule qui lui semblait à sa portée à l’heure actuelle : la fuite.xoxoLily tapa Scorpius sur l’épaule, la mine boudeuse, tandis qu’il riait franchement.« Ca n’a rien de drôle ! »Mais cela ne le calma pas pour autant, et Lily le fusilla du regard. Ce qu’il pouvait être agaçant, parfois. Heureusement qu’Albus n’était pas là, ils auraient fait la paire tous les deux, à ses dépends bien sûr.Scorpius finit par articuler en hoquetant :« Co-comment veux-tu que je ne trouve pas ça drôle ? Par Merlin, mais qu’est-ce que j’ai raté ! Ce n’était vraiment pas le jour où il fallait me coller ! »Cependant, et heureusement pour elle, ses rires diminuaient. Lily se contenta de le regarder d’un air désabusé. Elle ne comprenait sincèrement pas ce qu’il y avait de drôle ; elle lui avait juste raconté la sortie à Pré-au-Lard, et la situation gênante dans laquelle elle s’était retrouvée, durant la discussion abracadabrante qu’elle avait eu avec la mère de Lysandre et de Lorcan. Et lui, il avait juste trouvé ça drôle. Imbécile.« C’est bon, t’as fini ta crise ? » grogna-t-elle en croisant les bras tandis qu’il essuyait les larmes qui avaient perlé aux coins de ses yeux, ses rires s’étant mués en quelques hoquets espacés.Il secoua la tête avant de répondre :« Oh, Lily, avoue que c’est drôle, quand même ! »« Non, c’était juste gênant ! »« Luna Lovegood… », soupira Scorpius, ignorant l’exclamation fâchée de la jeune fille. « Savais-tu qu’elle était surnommée ‘Loufoca Lovegood’, à l’époque où nos parents étaient eux-mêmes à Poudlard ? Il semblerait qu’elle ne se soit pas améliorée ! »« J’en ai entendu parler », concéda-t-elle finalement en décroisant les bras. « Elle évoquait déjà les Nargoles qui se baladaient dans le gui et volaient ses affaires, ou quelque chose du genre. »« C’est ça ! Et il y avait les Jongleruines, aussi, et certainement d’autres choses ! »« Joncheruines », corrigea-t-elle, mais il balaya ses mots d’un geste de la main.« Ouais, on s’en fiche, ça revient au même. Je ne vois pas ce qui te gêne, sincèrement ; c’est elle qui devrait être gênée de croire à des conneries pareilles, surtout à son âge. Et de vouloir faire croire cela aux autres, alors que c’est juste totalement ridicule. Elle a réussi avec ses fils – tu viens bien de dire qu’ils semblaient y croire aussi, n’est-ce pas ? »Lily acquiesça. Scorpius avait raison, ce délire était ridicule, et impossible à croire – il n’y avait même pas à réfléchir là-dessus, c’était absurde. Comment pourrait-il en être autrement ? Elle parlait de créatures dont seule la famille Lovegood aurait connaissance de leur existence, et ce n’était pas crédible. Si eux avaient pu en observer, pourquoi pas d’autres sorciers ?Mais d’où Luna avait-elle pu sortir des inepties pareilles ?« Oui. C’était vraiment gênant. De nous quatre, j’étais la seule à ne pas y croire. Enfin, c’est sûr qu’ils croient aussi aux Nargoles, mais ils avaient l’air un peu perplexes concernant la partie sur leur soi-disant envie d’attentat. Mais tu vois, j’étais surtout gênée vis-à-vis de Lysandre; s’il n’avait pas été là, je ne me serais pas embarrassée pour lui dire ce que je pense et pour partir – parce que je comptais bien faire autre chose de mon après-midi que de discuter au sujet de… à ce sujet. Mais il était là, et il y croyait vraiment, même s’il n’avait pas l’air de trop comprendre cette histoire de Nargoles qui veulent soudain détruire Londres… enfin, peut-être cette idée le laisse un peu sceptique, en fait. Mais je ne voulais pas le vexer. »Scorpius haussa les épaules avec négligence, comme s’il n’y avait pas lieu de s’inquiéter.« Ouais… De toute façon, je ne suis pas sûr que, même si tu avais été directement franche avec eux, il t’en aurait voulu. Et puis même, de toute façon ce type n’a pas l’air rancunier, et il doit avoir l’habitude. Mais maintenant elle essaie de t’impliquer dans une histoire grotesque. Mon père a raison, cette femme est juste folle ! »« Il a vraiment dit ça ?! » s’indigna Lily face à des termes aussi violents.Ses croyances étaient peut-être idiotes, mais ces mots étaient totalement irrespectueux voire insultants ; Luna était aussi une femme gentille, une mère certainement formidable et une amie certes particulière mais dévouée.Le jeune homme prit un air gêné, mais répondit :« Pas exactement, en fait. J’ai peut-être sur-interprété ce qu’il a dit », concéda-t-il finalement. « Disons qu’elle est, euh… bizarre. »Lily lui jeta un regard mauvais, mais décida de passer sur l’insulte pour cette fois. Cet imbécile n’avait juste pas mesuré ses mots.Un petit silence gêné pour l’un, méditatif pour l’autre, s’installa entre eux, jusqu’à ce qu’un petit sourire malicieux n’apparaisse sur le visage du jeune Malefoy.« Mais au fait, dis-moi… cela veut donc dire que tu as eu une sorte de rendez-vous avec Lysandre ? Eh bien, tu passes rapidement à la vitesse supérieure, toi ! Vous ne sortez même pas ensemble que tu rencontres déjà sa mère ! » ricana Scorpius, et Lily hésita entre le frapper pour sa stupidité et se cacher le visage qu’elle devinait rosissant entre ses mains.Bien que le terme ‘rendez-vous’ fût certes trop fort pour qualifier cela. Ils n’avaient été que tous les deux que quelques minutes à peine.Des fois, elle regrettait vraiment d’avoir partagé son attirance pour le jeune Dragonneau avec lui. Il ne faisait qu’en rire, et il n’était décidément pas de bon conseil. Ils étaient même grotesques – mais ce n’était pas étonnant étant donné son expérience en la matière.« Abruti », ne put-elle que répondre.Cela le fit juste rire un peu, mais ses rires s’estompèrent rapidement. Lily bougonna juste :« En plus, je l’avais déjà rencontrée avant. »« Ce n’était pas pareil », rétorqua-t-il, espiègle, et Lily roula des yeux, exaspérée.Elle ne pourrait rien faire pour le faire changer d’avis ; il resterait fixé sur son idée, quoiqu’elle en dise. Pourtant, la seule différence avec ses précédentes rencontres avec la quadragénaire avait été cette situation embarrassante dans laquelle l’avait mise Luna.« Idiot », râla-t-elle encore, avec l’impression vérifiée qu’elle se répétait.L’idiot en question se contenta d’hausser les épaules avec un air moqueur. Lily préféra tourner son visage vers la fenêtre, fouettée par la neige et le vent qui violentaient les carreaux. Qu’il se moque donc ; elle aurait largement de quoi lui rendre la pareille, avec Rose. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- « Je n'aurais jamais cru que cela puisse arriver un jour », bégaya Scorpius, effaré.Le groupe de Serpentards, composé de Scorpius, d'Albus, de Lily et de quelques-uns de leurs amis, des septièmes années pour la plupart – seuls Michael et Laura étaient de la même année que Lily – dévisageaient sans comprendre les Serdaigles au centre des discussions de la journée. Après tout, qui l'aurait cru ? Les jumeaux Dragonneau, pourtant si sages et si discrets, auraient écopé d'une retenue après s'être fait attrapés par le concierge en train d'errer dans les couloirs en pleine nuit !« C'est une blague, c'est tout », relativisa un autre Serpentard en secouant la tête, même si son visage affichait toujours autant d'incrédulité. « Pour quelle raison seraient-ils sortis dans les couloirs en pleine nuit, eux ? »Les Serdaigles n'étaient réputés ni pour leur caractère aventurier, ni pour leur déni des règles, bien loin s'en fallait. Et encore moins ces deux-là.Le petit groupe de Serdaigles, qui incluait les deux accusés, s'éloigna d'un pas tranquille, indifférent aux murmures qui parsemaient leur sillage. Tournant à l'angle du couloir, ils disparurent de leur vue.« Et pourquoi quelqu'un prétendrait-il que c'est le cas ? » répliqua Scorpius, tandis qu'un large sourire moqueur effaçait les dernières traces de surprise de son visage. « Ce n'est pas parce qu'ils sont de Serdaigle qu'ils en sont incapables ! Luna Dragonneau était bien de Serdaigle elle aussi, et cela ne l'a pas empêché de suivre le Trio d'Or dans leurs aventures ! En plus, il s'agit de leur mère ! »Il sembla considérer que ces arguments seuls suffisaient à justifier la chose, et se mit à rire. Il fut le seul, mais ses mots plongèrent les autres dans une réflexion plus ou moins intense. Qui ne dura que quelques secondes, pour la plupart d'entre eux.Mais pour Lily, ce fut totalement différent : ses pensées dérivèrent inexorablement vers les événements des jours précédents, et surtout vers cette fameuse sortie à Pré-au-Lard. Elle préféra s'extraire de ce souvenir le plus rapidement possible. Il la perturbait toujours autant, malgré le temps passé depuis, et elle ne voulait plus y songer. Juste oublier, et faire comme si cela n'avait jamais eu lieu.Le groupe d'amis commença à s'avancer à son tour. Il était midi passé, et tous avaient cours dans l'après-midi. Et personne ne souhaitait s'y rendre le ventre vide, ni arriver pour se contenter des restes laissés par les autres.« Ça ne veut strictement rien dire. Les circonstances étaient totalement différentes », releva finalement Laura.Et même si elle ne développa pas davantage, tous comprenaient ce qu'elle évoquait.Mais le sourire de Scorpius perdurait, et Lily s'en exaspéra.« Et tu trouves ça drôle ? » Râla-t-elle en fronçant les sourcils, tandis qu'Albus commençait à adopter le même air.« Mmh…, plutôt, oui ! » répondit le Malefoy. « Sérieusement, eux, quoi ! Personne n'y aurait jamais cru ! »« Je n'y crois toujours pas, d'ailleurs », fit remarquer Michael, mais son intervention fut balayée d'un geste négligent de la main par le jeune homme.Son scepticisme était pourtant partagé par plusieurs de ses camarades, qui avaient adopté le même air incrédule. Le fait en soi était déjà incroyable, mais l'indifférence affichée par les Dragonneau rendait la chose encore moins plausible. Scorpius s'en rendit parfaitement compte, et haussa les épaules à leur intention.« Ah, vous ne comprenez rien », finit-il par soupirer avec emphase, et Albus émit un petit ricanement de connivence tandis que leurs regards se croisaient. « Je crois que nous ne sommes que tous les deux ! »« Ça, c'est sûr », grogna Lily, « je ne me risquerais pas à rejoindre votre club de débiles immatures. »Quelques sifflements ponctuèrent sa phrase, mais cela ne rendit Scorpius que plus enthousiaste, et Albus gloussa en conséquence. Lily songea juste que son ami était fou, inconscient et stupide – lui ainsi que son frère. Mais elle le savait déjà depuis longtemps.« Tu ne sais pas ce que tu rates ! » fit-il avec un clin d'œil, auquel elle répondit par un air désabusé. « Enfin, en même temps, vu que l'on parle de ton chéri… »Des ricanements s'élevèrent, en même temps que les sourcils de Lily se froncèrent.« Ce n'est pas mon chéri, idiot. Il n'est à personne. »Cet imbécile savait pourtant qu'elle ne voulait pas que les autres se doutent de quoi que ce soit – pas encore, pas tant qu'elle ne se serait pas décidée à le leur avouer. Il allait en entendre parler, il en était assuré.« En es-tu vraiment sûre ? » se moqua gentiment Albus, sans se rendre compte que le visage de sa sœur s'assombrissait à mesure de ses paroles. « Après tout, personne n'était au courant de leurs petites escapades nocturnes ! »« Ils ne font pas d'escapades nocturnes ! » s'énerva Lily.Son brusque éclat surprit tout le monde, y compris Albus, qui dévisagea sa sœur avec étonnement. Tout le monde sauf Scorpius, qui était au courant de l'attirance qu'elle ressentait pour l'un des jumeaux. Regrettant déjà de l'avoir clairement sous-entendu devant leurs amis, il s'empressa d'intervenir :« Tu y vas peut-être un peu fort, Albus. Rien ne dit qu'ils font ça régulièrement, bien au contraire. En fait, ils n'en ont tellement pas l'habitude qu'ils se sont faits griller direct. Et si l'un d'entre eux avait une copine, ça se saurait. »Le brun haussa les sourcils, déconcerté par le revirement soudain de son meilleur ami et le soudain sérieux qu'il affichait. Il le fixa quelques secondes, semblant réfléchir, avant d'hausser les épaules pour balayer la question. De toute façon, les portes de la Grande Salle leur faisaient face, et ils avaient d'autres choses à penser.Même si l'impression que quelque chose dans cette histoire lui échappait le déconcertait – quelque chose dont auraient connaissance certains d'entre eux, mais pas lui. Mais Scorpius ne pouvait rien lui cacher, n'est-ce pas ? Et même dans le cas contraire, il ne tarderait pas à le lui faire savoir.« Bah, ce n'est pas comme si le sujet nous intéressait réellement, de toute façon. »Quoiqu'ils aient fait ou non, cela ne valait pas la peine de se prendre autant la tête.Le débat fut donc clos.xoxo« Hermione… »« Franchement, Luna, n'en as-tu pas marre, avec cette foutue histoire ? Laisse Harry mener cette enquête en paix ! »Luna grimaça et se retint de serrer la tasse qu'elle tenait dans sa main. Une fois encore, elle essayait de convaincre Hermione de mettre en place une protection plus importante autour des derniers Objets qui n'avaient pas encore été volés, et une fois encore, elle ne voulait rien entendre, prétextant que ses dires étaient infondés – et le fait qu'il ne s'était plus rien passé depuis les vols ne l'arrangeait pas, de ce point de vue-là. Mais les Nargoles étaient loin d'être idiots, et la situation était tout à leur avantage.Malgré le désespoir qui la gagnait – et qui ne cessait de l'accompagner ces derniers jours, surtout depuis le rejet évident de Lily qui lui laissait un goût amer – elle préféra malgré tout insister. Histoire de savoir au moins s'il s'était produit quelque chose autour de ces Objets depuis, qui annoncerait une catastrophe prochaine. Pas que cela l'avancerait beaucoup, étant donné sa position actuelle. Mais elle espérait une nouvelle quelque peu rassurante.« Mais –»Elle n'en eut pas le temps. L'exaspération de la Ministre était à son comble.« Non ! Nous en avons assez, tu vas trop loin ! Je sais que tu en as également parlé à Neville, ainsi qu'à d'autres. Cela prend des proportions tout à fait grotesques ! »« Mais Hermione –»« Rien, il ne se passe rien ! Ces deux Objets dont tu me rabâches les oreilles sont toujours à la même place, aucun signe avant-coureur d'un potentiel vol dans nos locaux, ni d'une hypothétique destruction de la capitale ! Par Merlin, comment en es-tu venue à avoir une idée pareille ?! »Luna soupira, et lâcha finalement sa tasse quasiment pleine dont le contenu refroidissait à vue d'œil pour se frotter le visage, soudain lasse. Elle s'entêtait à ne pas vouloir la croire, et surtout, à ne même pas l'écouter, et ce, même lorsqu'elle lui fournissait des arguments valables – elle lui avait pourtant déjà dit que les deux Objets qui viendraient bientôt à disparaître étaient beaucoup plus instables, et donc qu'ils ne les voleraient que plus tard, seulement lorsqu'ils seraient nécessaires, soit peu avant le lancement du sort. Bien qu'elle ne savait pas du tout quand cela était susceptible de se produire, et c'était bien là le problème. Mais comment parvenir à la convaincre, dans ce cas ?Elle ferma les yeux tandis que le goût amer devenu malheureusement coutumier ces derniers temps lui envahissait la bouche. Impuissante. Elle se sentait tout simplement impuissante. Personne ne la croyait – que ce fut les membres du Trio d'Or, d'anciens amis de Poudlard, des collègues ou d'autres – et surtout, ceux qui pouvaient empêcher les futurs vols, et donc la mise en place du sort et la destruction de la ville, ne la croyaient pas. Elle-même ne pouvait rien faire. Elle n'était que naturaliste et ne disposait d'aucun moyen pour éviter que les Nargoles ne récupèrent les derniers Objets dont ils avaient besoin, ou qu'ils ne lancent le sort même après cela. Ni d'aucun moyen pour leur prouver ses dires, ou l'existence des Nargoles et du sort.Au moins les deux Objets étaient-ils encore au Ministère. A savoir, pour combien de temps encore.Finalement, Hermione secoua la tête, comme si elle abandonnait l'idée de tenter de comprendre la femme face à elle. Elle avait bien essayé de ne pas être trop brusque, pourtant mais son entêtement dépassait l'entendement. Cela faisait plusieurs fois que lors de leurs rencontres, la discussion dérivait inévitablement vers le sujet. C'était lassant, et réellement agaçant.D'autant plus que l'enquête piétinait toujours, et que la Ministre n'avait donc rien à lui jeter sous le nez pour qu'elle cessât enfin ses élucubrations idiotes. Des Nargoles, vraiment.Et à présent, elle avait décidé d'en faire profiter à peu près tout le monde.« Luna », reprit Hermione d'une voix plus calme, et la blonde fut presque vexée par le ton pris par celle-ci – comme si elle parlait à un enfant récalcitrant à qui l'on expliquerait les choses de la vie qu'il ne voulait pas entendre. « Je sais que tu veux bien faire, vraiment, mais… »« Ce n'est pas la peine, j'ai compris l'idée », l'interrompit Luna, la gorge serrée.Elle avait passé un stade où elle ne pouvait définitivement plus entendre ces mots, ou plutôt, ce qu'ils sous-entendaient. Que son histoire était folle. Qu'elle était folle. Elle savait qu'on la décrivait ainsi, et ce depuis Poudlard, et en soi, cela ne l'avait jamais gênée, mais là… C'était le destin de Londres qui était en jeu. Et elle risquait d'être détruite, juste parce que personne n'avait rien fait, parce que personne n'avait voulu voir qu'il se passait quelque chose de grave. Parce que personne ne la croyait.Hermione lui lança un regard compatissant, insoutenable pour Luna qui baissa les yeux vers son thé. Elle saisit sa tasse et trempa ses lèvres dans le liquide ambré. Il était devenu froid. Ce n'était pas ainsi qu'elle le préférait, mais il était une distraction bienvenue à la discussion qui se déroulait entre elles, et peut-être pourrait-il faire quelque chose pour sa gorge douloureuse et sa bouche sèche. Même si elle en doutait.« Luna… », tenta Hermione, qui avait au moins eu la décence de voir à quel point son amie était blessée.« Et comment vont les enfants ? » l'interrompit Luna d'un ton faussement joyeux, affichant un large sourire qui sonnait creux.Tout, plutôt que de continuer à déblatérer sur sa prétendue folie. Hermione s'en rendit bien compte, et lui adressa un regard triste.« Oh, eh bien, ça va… Ils sont toujours à Poudlard, et reviennent à la maison pour les vacances. Enfin, pour une semaine seulement maintenant », ajouta-t-elle en se rappelant de son divorce, et donc de l'arrangement de leurs gardes. « On essaie de s'organiser pour que les enfants puissent se voir durant ces deux semaines. Tu… »« Cela ne me gêne pas, et cela leur ferait très certainement plaisir », accepta-t-elle en hochant la tête, reposant sa tasse vide sur la table.Elle savait que cela ne gênerait pas ses fils, loin de là. Et puis, ce serait certainement son seul espoir de revoir Lily dans les prochains jours, et de réessayer de la convaincre de l'aider. Car à défaut de pouvoir convaincre les personnes qui en avaient la possibilité de protéger les Objets, la seule solution qui lui restait était de persuader la Gardienne des Sceaux de lui venir en aide pour repousser les Nargoles – en espérant qu'elle y parvienne avant qu'ils n'aient réussi à rassembler les Objets, auquel cas elle ne saurait pas quoi faire.Hermione hocha la tête à son tour, enthousiaste. Au moins, songea tristement Luna, n'avait-elle pas acquis le statut de pestiférée, à défaut de celui de folle qui lui collait à la peau depuis plusieurs années déjà.« Génial ! »Luna ne réussit qu'à lui adresser un demi-sourire peu convaincu, et tandis qu'Hermione se lançait dans un pseudo-monologue pour parler d'Harry, de Ron, de Ginny, et des quelques arrangements qu'ils avaient effectués, Luna sentit son esprit dériver. Enfin, ce n'était pas tout à fait exact : disons plutôt que l'envie de partir loin d'ici se faisait sentir de façon plus pressante, et elle était bien en mal de se retenir. Mais il ne fallut que quelques minutes pour qu'elle n'y tînt plus, et elle se leva brusquement, surprenant Hermione qui leva les yeux à la suite de son mouvement.« Écoute, Hermione, je suis désolée, je-je dois… il faut que je parte. Je viens de me rappeler que j'avais des choses à faire, et… »Aucune, en réalité, à part continuer d'essayer de réunir des informations sur la magie scellique et le sort pour mieux les convaincre, et pour trouver une parade. Mais son interlocutrice n'avait certainement pas envie d'en entendre parler, ce pourquoi elle le passa sous silence, préférant laisser sous-entendre qu'il s'agissait là d'un devoir pour la rédaction de son étude – qu'il lui faudrait entamer un jour, d'ailleurs.Hermione ne fit pas mine de ne pas croire ses dires, et hocha la tête.« Oh, eh bien, d'accord. A une prochaine fois, alors ? Pour bientôt, ou préfères-tu que nous en parlions par courrier ? »« Je… J'ai pris pas mal de retard dans ma rédaction, je pense qu'il vaut mieux que l'on se contacte par courrier. »Dire qu'elle était en retard était un euphémisme – mais il lui restait encore du temps, l'échéance était loin d'arriver à son terme, et c'était largement suffisant pour s'y mettre. D'autant qu'ils avaient accumulé de nombreuses notes pour leur faciliter le travail, ils étaient donc tranquilles. De plus, Rolf était toujours occupé à préparer sa conférence à Helsinki et c'était un travail à faire à deux, cela se justifiait donc un peu – pas vraiment en réalité.Hermione se leva à son tour.« Ok, c'est comme tu le souhaites. Tu es toujours la bienvenue ici, tu sais », insista-t-elle tandis qu'elle la reconduisait à la porte de son appartement de fonction.Luna la remercia. Elle se doutait que la remarque n'était pas anodine, mais elle ne voulait pas pousser plus loin cette conversation.Puis la porte s'ouvrit, et Luna la traversa pour se retrouver sur le palier d'escalier. Elle se retourna, et fit un signe de la main à son amie. Elle fuyait, mais elle ne voulait pas blesser son amie – juste fuir, et être un peu seule.« A plus tard ! »Elle n'attendit pas davantage de temps pour descendre. Elle entendit juste une réponse similaire derrière son épaule, suivie quelques secondes après d'un grincement de bois. Puis elle-même fut dehors, et elle transplana directement devant chez elle.Aussitôt rentrée, elle se déshabilla, et un coup d'œil vers le salon vide lui fit penser à ses fils, et au courrier qu'elle attendait de leur part. Elle se précipita vers la petite volière. Bonne nouvelle : le grand-duc était revenu, un morceau de parchemin à la patte. Ils lui avaient répondu. Son cœur s'accéléra à la pensée des possibles informations qu'ils lui apportaient. En espérant qu'elles fussent bonnes.« Lilo, te voilà », minauda-t-elle en donnant une caresse à la tête du hibou, avant de récupérer le bout de parchemin et de lui fournir une souris en échange, conservée grâce à la magie.Le grand-duc ne se préoccupa alors plus de l'humaine et entreprit de déchiqueter sa petite proie morte, tandis que Luna reculait de quelques pas avant de crocheter le cachet et de déplier le parchemin. Le message était relativement court et sobre, et elle acheva sa lecture en quelques minutes. Salut maman ! Nous sommes allés dans la Salle sur Demande comme tu nous l'as demandé, et effectivement, l'Objet s'y trouve bien. Il est plus petit que ce que l'on s'imaginait, nous avons failli ne pas le trouver. Par contre, ne t'étonne pas de recevoir bientôt un message de Poudlard : nous avons été attrapés dans les couloirs, donc nous avons écopé d'une retenue. Ainsi, le Calice se trouvait bien à Poudlard. C'était réellement une bonne chose : d'après ce qu'elle avait cru comprendre, de tous les Objets, c'était celui qu'il ne fallait surtout pas perdre, de par son rôle central dans la mise en place du sort. Car en effet, c'était lui qui permettait d'utiliser la magie scellique – comment, elle n'en savait rien en stockant des Sceaux à l'intérieur ? Mais surtout, c'était vraisemblablement l'Objet sur lequel Lily pourrait donc potentiellement agir en cas de besoin – toujours d'après les maigres informations dont elle disposait.Elle lut les dernières lignes sans grand intérêt, pas agacée le moins du monde qu'ils aient pris une retenue – elle était même un peu désolée d'en être responsable, tout en sachant que c'était pour la bonne cause. Et l'était d'autant plus qu'avec ce qu'elle était sur le point de leur demander, ce ne serait sans doute pas la dernière. Elle soupira tandis qu'elle prenait un bout de parchemin et une plume pour leur répondre. Car c'était bien le seul point où ils pouvaient faire un tant soit peu quelque chose. Empêcher les Nargoles de s'emparer du Calice.Et cela, seuls Lysandre et Lorcan pouvaient le faire.xoxoLe train siffla à l'entrée en gare, interrompant les bavardages absurdes de son ami, et Lily accueillit ce semblant de silence avec bienvenue. Ils étaient seuls dans la cabine depuis un moment déjà elle ne savait plus pourquoi, d'ailleurs – des histoires de petits-amis, pour la plupart d'entre eux. Les autres ? Elle ne s'en souvenait plus. Et après un moment, le jeune Malefoy avait fini par décréter qu'il lui fallait absolument parler des soi-disant « absences » de son père, et s'était mis en tête qu'une seule chose pouvait justifier cela : son père avait une nouvelle petite amie.Cette idée lui paraissait tout bonnement ridicule. Enfin, c'était surtout sa rapide conclusion consécutive à l'absence évidente de preuves qu'elle trouvait ridicule. Et son insistance à ce sujet, aussi.« Je te jure ! » reprit-il alors, et Lily roula des yeux en soupirant de dépit et en enfonçant davantage sa tête contre la vitre, dans le vain espoir de… elle ne savait même plus ce qu'elle espérait.A part qu'il se taise pour de bon.« … il n'aurait jamais oublié ! »« Scorp'… », râla-t-elle, agacée, tournant finalement son regard vers le blond, qui paraissait véritablement inquiet.Elle ne comprenait pas pourquoi il prenait ça tant à cœur. Sa mère était morte depuis quelques années, son père n'avait-il donc pas le droit de s'en remettre ? Et encore, c'était vite dit, elle était à peu près sûre que Draco Malefoy n'avait jamais aimé sa femme, n'en déplaise à son ami.Malgré tout, il continuait de déblatérer sur ses soi-disant « preuves » pour étayer ses dires tandis que le train ralentissait, achevant les dernières barrières qui retenaient Lily.« Franchement, Scorp', c'en est ridicule, là ! »Elle profita du fait qu'il la regardait comme si une deuxième tête venait soudain de lui pousser sur le corps pour continuer :« De un, tu n'as pas vu ton père depuis la rentrée à Poudlard, tu ne trouves donc pas que tu conclus un peu trop vite aux rendez-vous galants ? »Il cligna des yeux, mais elle ne lui laissa pas le temps de réfléchir ni de répondre, et poursuivit :« De deux, même si c'était le cas, je te rappelle que ton père est veuf, il a donc parfaitement le droit de fréquenter qui il veut, quand il veut, où il veut, et tu n'as strictement rien à y redire ! »Scorpius eut la décence de se mordre la lèvre et de prendre un air un peu penaud. Lily lui renvoya un air sévère en réponse, et le jaugea quelques secondes en silence, tandis qu'il ruminait l'information. Apparemment, il n'avait pas pensé à ce détail. Puis elle reprit :« Et de trois, cela ne voudrait pas dire pour autant que c'est une « potentielle future belle-mère » ! Par Merlin, t'as lu trop de contes sur des belles-mères méchantes et folles pour en être phobique à ce point ? »« Je ne suis pas phobique ! »« Sans blague », ironisa Lily, avant de demander : « alors, où est le problème ? »Chose encore plus incompréhensible, si cela était possible, Scorpius ne semblait pas disposé à se justifier sur ce point. Il se dandinait devant elle, gêné, et elle aurait juré qu'il cherchait du regard une échappatoire. Peut-être n'était-il pas phobique, en effet : juste mélodramatique.« Hé, faut descendre ! » s'enthousiasma soudain le blond en se levant après avoir reconnu les quais à l'arrêt, et Lily savait que cela n'était pas dû à la perspective des vacances et des fêtes.Elle lui jeta un regard circonspect tandis qu'elle se levait à son tour pour le suivre. Avant de choisir de lâcher l'affaire pour un temps. De toute façon, elle finirait bien par le découvrir. Et puis comme cela, il avait cessé de se plaindre.Ils durent se frayer un chemin parmi la masse d'élèves, firent beaucoup de sur-place, avant d'enfin pouvoir quitter le train, ensemble. Ils s'éloignèrent de quelques pas, puis scrutèrent les alentours. Comme tout le monde, ils n'avaient plus qu'à retrouver leurs familles. Lily aperçut quelques connaissances, des amis à ses parents, mais ne vit ni les siens, ni celui de Scorpius. Par contre, elle finit par apercevoir Luna vêtue d'une robe jaune et de collants sombres, adossée à un poteau, l'air absent. Elle se rappela aussitôt de leur dernière rencontre à Pré-au-Lard, et elle eut une légère grimace.Elle comptait faire comme si elle ne l'avait pas vue, et ainsi s'épargner une rencontre gênante et pénible – son histoire abracadabrantesque lui restait un peu trop en tête – mais le sort en avait décidé autrement. Elle ne savait pas si Luna avait une sorte de sixième sens qui lui avait permis de se rendre compte du regard posé sur elle, mais après quelques secondes, elle tourna son visage vers elle. Et Lily ne pouvait l'ignorer, malgré la gêne qu'elle éprouvait. Et puis, sans doute avait-elle déjà oublié la sortie à Pré-au-Lard, n'est-ce-pas ? Cela n'avait dû être qu'une idée passagère, et Luna avait bien dû se rendre compte de son absurdité depuis. Il y avait donc de fortes probabilités pour qu'elle n'en reparle plus jamais. Enfin, elle l'espérait.Et donc, comme elle ne disposait d'aucun prétexte pour ne pas la saluer, et que cette gêne était somme toute assez ridicule, elle se dirigea vers elle, même si elle aurait pu se contenter d'un bref signe de la main ou de la tête. Mais sans doute était-ce juste pour se prouver à elle-même que ses craintes étaient infondées. Elle fut suivie de peu par Scorpius, qui s'étonna d'abord de cette avancée abrupte. Avant de reconnaître finalement l'épouse Dragonneau.Lily s'efforça d'afficher un sourire radieux à son encontre pour masquer son désarroi.« Bonjour Luna ! Comment vas-tu ? »Scorpius la salua également avec enthousiasme tandis que les deux adolescents s'arrêtaient à quelques pas de la jeune quadragénaire, face à elle. Au visage qu'arborait le jeune homme, Lily devinait aisément que lui aussi se souvenait de cette conversation, et l'ayant trouvé drôle, il se mordait les joues d'anticipation pour éviter de sourire de façon suspecte. Cela accrut le malaise de la jeune fille. Elle aurait bien étranglé son ami pour le coup – elle ne pouvait espérer aucun soutien de sa part, qui considérait la situation comme une vaste blague.Heureusement, les jumeaux n'étaient pas encore arrivés, eux. Si la situation venait à déraper – mais elle ne devait pas penser ainsi !–, ce serait donc moins pire.Luna fixa pendant quelques secondes le jeune homme qui accompagnait Lily, avant de répondre :« Bonjour. Je vais bien, et toi ? »Sa présence n'arrangeait pas Luna. Déjà que seule, Lily avait eu du mal à la croire, mais la présence d'un autre sceptique – sa mine était sans équivoque – risquait de l'influencer dans le mauvais sens. Elle n'avait vraiment pas de veine. Mais pas le choix non plus de toute façon, Lily lui avait certainement parlé de leur discussion – elle le voyait retenir difficilement un air moqueur tandis qu'il la dévisageait, et cela ne pouvait être que pour cela. Elle avait cru comprendre par Ginny qu'ils étaient très proches, et ce malgré qu'ils ne fussent pas en même année. Décidément, absent ou non, tout l'entourage de la jeune fille se dressait entre elles deux.« Je vais bien, merci ! » affirma joyeusement Lily, qui réfléchissait à toute vitesse à un sujet de discussion possible qui n'incluait pas les vols – histoire d'éviter d'en parler, si possible, même si ce n'était certainement que de la psychose pure.Elle ne pourrait même pas parler des avancées de son père, apparemment il n'y en avait eu aucune. C'était étrange, mais surtout frustrant, alors qu'il lui aurait suffi de pas grand-chose pour réfuter « l'hypothèse » de Luna et lui présenter les preuves qui auraient démenti ses propos.Malgré tout, cette histoire de Nargoles lui paraissait tout aussi plausible que la résurrection de Merlin lui-même – et encore, elle y aurait davantage cru, en fait. Et donc, il ne valait mieux pas glisser sur ce terrain-là non plus.Scorpius marmonna quelques mots à son tour, avant de se taire et d'observer les deux femmes. Il ne savait pas quoi dire, croisant peu souvent la dame Dragonneau – vu que ce n'était pas une amie de son père – et préférait donc céder la parole à son amie. De toute façon, c'était elle qui les avait traînés là, à elle d'assumer. Et ce pourrait être amusant – ou du moins distrayant, le temps que son père arrive.« Euh… Lysandre et Lorcan ne sont toujours pas là ? » finit par lâcher Lily, et elle se sentit aussitôt idiote d'avoir posé la question.Vraisemblablement non, si Luna restait plantée là comme une abrutie à attendre, sans jumeaux blonds à proximité. Elle se sentit encore plus idiote lorsque Luna lui renvoya un regard surpris, et elle se serait bien frappée pour cela. Il lui fallait trouver un sujet plus pertinent.« Eh bien, non… »Évidemment. Et Scorpius qui ne lui était véritablement d'aucun secours. C'était bien mieux de rester muet et de jouer au piquet à côté d'elle.« Ah. Bah… vous partez pendant ces vacances ? »Pas très original, mais cela avait le mérite d'être un peu plus approprié. Même si elle s'en fichait, en fait. Un peu.Car bon, si elle pouvait croiser Lysandre pendant ces vacances, elle ne serait pas contre…« Non, nous passons les fêtes à la maison. D'ailleurs nous avions prévu de nous voir, avec tes parents, tu n'étais pas au courant ? »Maintenant qu'elle le disait, ça lui revenait. Son père lui en avait parlé dans une lettre.« Si, si, il me semble. La semaine prochaine, non ? »Luna acquiesça avec un petit sourire. Lily préféra aussitôt continuer, vu qu'elle sentait que Luna n'allait pas poursuivre :« Ouais. Sinon, nous-mêmes n'avons rien de prévu. Maman est pas mal occupée au journal, et papa… bah il est très occupé. »Ne surtout pas parler des vols. Surtout pas.« Oui, j'imagine. Ils n'ont toujours pas avancé dans leur enquête, n'est-ce pas ? »« Mmh ? L'enquête ? »Lily se retint de grimacer en apercevant le regard mi-attentif mi-désespéré de Luna se tourner vers elle. Elle devait certainement se faire des films, il n'était pas possible qu'elle –Luna finit par soupirer, et baissa son regard vers le sol, visiblement désemparée. Lily en fut alors peinée pour elle, tandis que Scorpius haussait les sourcils.« Je suppose que tu ne me crois pas davantage », murmura Luna, sans doute davantage pour elle-même, en réalité, mais les deux adolescents l'entendirent.Lily ferma brièvement les yeux de dépit. Par Merlin, elle y croyait toujours. Mais pourquoi voulait-elle donc l'inclure là-dedans ?Luna releva le regard pour le planter résolument dans celui de Lily, qui frémit. Elle semblait en même temps si déterminée, et si désespérée. Lily se sentit désolée qu'elle fût réduite à cet état pour une histoire aussi grotesque.Mais elle ne voulait pas faire semblant. Ce serait incorrect, et ce ne serait pas sain que de la laisser végéter dans ses croyances idiotes. Mais Luna ne lui laissa pas le temps de parler.« Écoute, je sais que c'est difficile à croire, mais il faut que tu m'écoutes. Si les Nargoles –»« Je suis désolée de devoir t'interrompre », la coupa immédiatement Lily, qui sentait près d'elle le regard d'un Scorpius partagé entre le scepticisme et l'amusement alterner entre les deux femmes, « mais oui, en effet, je n'y crois pas. Déjà parce que les Nargoles n'existent pas – sérieusement, qui hormis votre famille affirme qu'ils existent ? »Quelques ricanements étouffés se firent entendre, et Lily se raidit davantage, jetant des coups d'œil autour d'eux. Heureusement, seul Scorpius était spectateur de cette supercherie – les quelques personnes qu'elle voyait évoluaient sans les considérer. Mais la gare commençait à se remplir, et il pourrait y en avoir davantage. Cette perspective la fit froncer les sourcils, et elle poursuivit d'un ton légèrement agacé :« De plus, les vols que tu évoques commencent à dater, et le fait que l'affaire piétine n'est aucunement une preuve ni que les vols du Ministère et du Muséum soient liés, ni qu'ils ont été effectués dans le but d'ensuite lancer un sort destructeur, dont l'existence elle-même n'est pas sûre. Et enfin, les Objets restants dont tu parles sont toujours à leur place, et personne n'a tenté de les voler depuis le début de ces affaires, ce qui commence à faire long. Libre à toi de croire ce que tu as envie de croire », ajouta-t-elle en apercevant du coin de l'œil les deux jumeaux descendre du train rouge et les apercevoir, pour enfin se diriger vers eux. « Mais arrête d'essayer de m'impliquer là-dedans ! »« Mais tu es –»Le pire de tout – la cerise sur le gâteau gâté. Tandis que Scorpius toussotait pour retenir ses rires, Lily explosa :« Je ne suis pas la Gardienne des Sceaux ! Je n'y connais rien en Sceaux, pour tout te dire, je suis déjà loin d'être douée en Runes ! »Bon, elle était loin d'être nulle non plus, mais là n'était pas le problème.Et forcément, son éclat n'avait pas dû passer inaperçu – tout le monde devait les fixer, à présent. Fantastique. Elle secoua la tête d'un air malheureux, et releva les yeux vers son aînée, estomaquée par sa longue tirade. Cela ne la dissuada pas de l'achever : les choses devaient être dites.« Je ne saurais pas expliquer comment tu as réussi à me faire apparaître sur ce foutu miroir » et c'était bien la seule chose que Lily était apte à croire, de tout ce qu'elle lui avait raconté « mais ce n'est pas moi ! »Luna demeura silencieuse quelques instants, sa poitrine douloureusement comprimée. Scorpius les fixait tour à tour, un léger sourire creusant ses joues ; l'histoire était drôle, mais il y avait tout de même des limites – et peut-être que cette scène éviterait à Lily de se faire harcelée à l'avenir.Ce fut à cet instant que les jumeaux les rejoignirent. Bien sûr, ils n'avaient pas manqué le cri de Lily, et ils leur jetèrent donc des regards surpris.« Que se passe-t-il ? » demanda Lorcan, détournant l'attention de Lily de la plus âgée.Luna se mordit les lèvres de dépit sans répondre – et par ailleurs, personne ne daigna le faire. C'était pire que ce qu'elle imaginait – que ce que ses faibles espoirs lui avaient fait imaginer : non seulement elle ne la croyait pas, mais elle refusait d'y croire, tout comme ses parents. Et le problème était sensiblement le même : comment convaincre quelqu'un qui ne voulait rien entendre ?Et tout comme avec ses parents, Luna était impuissante, mais c'était pire. Car si la situation dégénérait, la seule personne capable de faire quelque chose ne ferait rien, tout simplement parce qu'elle refusait d'envisager la vérité.Elle ouvrit la bouche pour essayer une dernière fois, lorsqu'elle vit arriver en discutant les parents de Lily, rejoints par Albus, Hermione et Ron. Un peu plus loin, Draco Malefoy marchait dans leur direction d'un pas nonchalant, seul. Elle la referma. C'était inutile d'essayer, pas devant eux. Sinon, ils penseraient qu'elle harcelait leur fille avec son « histoire » et feraient en sorte qu'elles ne puissent plus se croiser, ce qu'elle ne souhaitait en aucun cas. Tant pis pour ce jour-là, elle était convaincue du contraire, de toute façon elle n'avait plus qu'à profiter des vacances scolaires pour y parvenir – d'autant plus que désormais, elle travaillait chez elle à plein temps pour son étude. Mais même cette perspective ne la soulageait pas, pas après un aussi lamentable échec – et cela représentait bien plus qu'un échec.Lorsqu'elle reporta son attention sur les adolescents, elle vit Lily discuter avec Lysandre et Lorcan, un petit sourire timide sur les lèvres, et Scorpius à côté d'elle se contentait de les écouter d'un air intéressé. Elle ne savait pas de quoi ils parlaient, mais cela n'avait aucune importance.« Hé, Luna ! Comment ça va ? » s'exclama Ginny, et Luna se tourna vers elle puis fit quelques pas en sa direction, pour se faire happer par les bras de son amie.Le cœur de Luna se serra en même temps que les bras de la rouquine autour d'elle. Non, elle ne pouvait définitivement pas essayer devant eux. Après tout, c'étaient eux-mêmes qui avaient certainement appris à leur fille à ne surtout pas croire aux Nargoles. La lassitude la gagna, et elle ferma les yeux de dépit, entendant à peine les débuts de conversation qui s'étouffaient autour d'elle.Elle avait beau être entourée de ses amis et de ses fils, elle se sentait définitivement seule. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Lily toussota quelques secondes tandis que la nuée de cendres se dissipait, et fit quelques pas maladroits pour s'extraire de la cheminée. Des mains apparurent alors dans son champ de vision réduit et lui saisirent les avant-bras pour l'aider à s'avancer.« Je suis désolé », s'excusa une voix masculine. « Nous n'utilisons presque jamais cette cheminée. J'aurais dû penser à la ramoner avant ton arrivée. »La jeune fille ne dit rien et hocha juste la tête en s'essuyant les yeux. Suite à cela, elle les ouvrit, pour contempler son environnement. Elle se trouvait dans un large salon. Face à elle, Lysandre la fixait d'un air un peu inquiet.« Ça va », finit-elle par dire d'une voix rauque en se raclant la gorge. « C'est vrai que c'est… surprenant. »Elle avait déjà pris des cheminées pas très entretenues, mais celle-ci semblait vouloir battre tous les records.Mais cela n'entacha en rien sa bonne humeur, et elle se mit à détailler le salon avec plus d'attention. Il était évident que les propriétaires étaient naturalistes, cela se ressentait dans l'impression que donnait la pièce. Les Dragonneau l'avaient aménagée à l'aide des nombreux souvenirs qu'ils avaient ramenés de leurs multiples voyages, tous relatifs aux créatures magiques qu'ils avaient pu étudier ou rencontrer, présentés dans les nombreuses vitrines et bibliothèques accolés aux murs. Le tout formait un étrange fouillis organisé. Des objets qu'elle savait rares, et ne pas en connaître la vraie valeur, ponctuaient ici et là cette large collection. Presque à l'opposé d'eux, un canapé clair détonnait dans ce décor exotique.« C'est mignon chez toi ! » se contenta-t-elle de dire en tournant le visage vers lui avec un petit sourire.Il la remercia d'un air un peu rêveur, puis il lui proposa quelque chose qu'elle n'entendit pas. En effet, une silhouette venait de faire son apparition dans l'encadrement de la porte, et Lily n'avait eu aucun mal à la reconnaître. Luna.Vêtue sobrement d'un jean et d'un t-shirt large, ce qui était peu courant chez elle, elle ne semblait pas les avoir remarqués, la tête penchée sur des documents qu'elle lisait tout en fronçant les sourcils et en marchant. Inévitablement, elle se cogna quelques secondes plus tard sur une vitrine remplie de petits objets que Lily n'avait pas réussi à identifier depuis sa position et qui tremblèrent légèrement sur leur base. Elle leva de grands yeux étonnés vers l'obstacle, avant de tourner son regard vers eux. Lily ne put lui adresser qu'un sourire gêné en réponse, qui s'apparentait plutôt à une grimace, d'ailleurs.« Oh ! Bonjour, Lily. Comment vas-tu ? »« Bonjour. Je vais bien, merci, et toi ? »Si elles pouvaient en rester aux politesses, ce serait quand même mieux. Après tout, la dernière fois qu'elles s'étaient parlé, deux jours plus tôt, la situation était devenue gênante. Et puis, son insistance avait été réellement agaçante.Une fois les quelques civilités échangées, Luna marcha jusqu'au canapé massif, et s'y installa avec ses documents, les disposant de part et d'autre d'elle-même. Lily, elle, jeta un regard étonné vers Lysandre.« Maman doit rédiger son article, elle reste donc à la maison pour cela », expliqua le jeune homme.Lily acquiesça. En espérant qu'elle se limite à cela, et qu'elle ne perturbe pas son après-midi avec Lysandre en remettant son histoire de Nargoles sur le tapis. Toutefois, il lui faudrait y penser, les prochaines fois qu'elle verrait Lysandre – et elle y comptait bien ! En lui proposant de sortir en ville, par exemple. Loin de sa mère.« Et où est Lorcan ? » demanda-t-elle alors, se rendant compte qu'elle n'avait aperçu l'autre jumeau à aucun moment.« Sorti avec des amis », répondit-il.Lysandre lui proposa d'aller dans sa chambre, ce que Lily accepta aussitôt. Cela lui donnait aussi l'occasion de s'éloigner de Luna. Mais sans doute cela n'aurait-il pas été nécessaire Luna ne leva même pas les yeux lorsqu'ils quittèrent la pièce.L'après-midi se déroula calmement, et Lily apprécia cette tranquillité à sa juste valeur. D'autant plus que, même s'ils étaient revenus dans le salon une heure après en être partis, Luna n'était pas revenue à la charge et ce, même alors qu'elle lui avait demandé comment allaient ses parents, et comment avançaient les enquêtes d'Harry. Même là, elle n'avait rien ajouté de plus, rien concernant ses Nargoles et leur plan machiavélique. Peut-être cela lui était-il passé, tout compte fait. Ce qui n'était pas pour déplaire à la jeune fille.Mais elle fut détrompée lorsque Lysandre la quitta quelques instants pour se rendre aux toilettes. Quatre heures était passé depuis un moment, et les restes de leur goûter avaient fini au fond de l'évier pour se faire récurer par des brosses manipulées par la magie. C'était réellement pratique, et Lily se demandait comment les Moldus faisaient pour s'accommoder d'une telle tâche ingrate. Ah oui, le lave-vaisselle.Elle sentit un regard peser sur elle, et leva les yeux pour croiser ceux pâles de Luna, fixés sur elle. Lily prit un air interrogateur. Luna resta muette de longues secondes, et Lily crut tout d'abord que cela en resterait là – bien qu'elle ne comprenait pas réellement la scène. Mais soudain, la voix douce et légèrement distante de Luna brisa le silence qui les enveloppait :« Sais-tu pourquoi les Objets étaient au Ministère, et au Muséum ? Séparés en deux lieux différents, mais toujours dans la même ville ? »Lily cligna des yeux, et mit quelques secondes avant de comprendre de quoi elle parlait. Elle sentit que sa question avait sans doute un rapport avec ses Nargoles – vu que lorsqu'elle parlait de ces Objets, elle les liait à ces créatures – mais elle ne voyait pas lequel.« Euh… parce qu'ils étaient moins dangereux ? »Lily se doutait que sa réponse n'en était pas vraiment une, mais un point l'interpellait. Effectivement, pourquoi étaient-ils tous à Londres ?« En réalité, ce n'est pas tout à fait exact, si on compte le Calice », corrigea néanmoins Luna d'une voix distraite, en baissant le regard vers ses notes. « Lui se trouve à Poudlard. Et doit encore s'y trouver. »Un Calice, à Poudlard ? Mais de quoi parlait-elle ? Et puis, pourquoi lui parlait-elle de cela, d'abord ?« Euh…, ok, si tu veux », finit-elle par lâcher, un peu désarçonnée – c'était une bien étrange entrée en matière, mais cela avait le mérité de la perturber tant que cette fois, l'agacement ne vint pas. « Mais… alors ? Pourquoi ? »« Mmh ? Oh. Je n'en sais rien. C'était une vraie question. »Pour le coup, Lily était scotchée. Elle se serait attendue à un véritable argumentaire pour tenter de la convaincre de la suivre, mais rien, juste ça. Elle ne savait pas quoi en penser.Pendant ce temps, le regard de Luna se perdait dans le vague, imperturbable face au trouble évident de la jeune fille. Elle murmura d'une voix basse et lasse, mais Lily l'entendit parfaitement :« En tout cas, cela leur facilite bien la tâche. »Lily n'eut pas besoin d'explications supplémentaires pour saisir le sous-entendu les Objets réunis dans une même ville – excepté un, mais il n'était pas bien loin – moins d'efforts était nécessaire pour les voler. Après tout, les trajets étaient courts, et certains se trouvaient même au même endroit.Elle ne vit pas Lysandre réapparaître dans la pièce, son attention tournée vers sa mère. Elle ne put s'empêcher de lâcher, et Luna releva les yeux à ses mots :« Sauf que certains objets dont vous parlez n'ont pas été volés, mais que d'autres objets qui n'ont rien à voir avec ce que vous dites l'ont également été. Et ces vols commencent à dater sérieusement. »Le regard de Luna se fit incroyablement doux, ce que Lily ne comprit pas. Elle venait juste d'insinuer qu'elle racontait un peu n'importe quoi, quand même.« Ce n'est pas parce qu'ils ne l'ont pas été qu'ils ne le seront pas. »« Mais pourquoi attendraient-ils tant de temps pour voler les Objets suivants ? » s'étonna Lily, tandis que Lysandre s'installait finalement sur une chaise en silence, écoutant la discussion en spectateur muet, ne cherchant pas à en comprendre le début.« C'est un sort. Il ne suffit pas de réunir les Objets dans une pièce et de le lancer, ou d'attendre qu'il se lance. C'est plus compliqué que cela – et heureusement pour nous, d'ailleurs. »Lily fronça les sourcils. Cela ne justifiait rien – après tout, plus vite ils voleraient ces Objets, mieux ils seraient assurés de les avoir au moment où ils en auraient besoin !« D'autant plus que les deux Objets encore au Ministère sont un peu plus instables, ils ne doivent donc vouloir les voler que lorsqu'ils en auront besoin. »« Et le Calice, alors ? »« Je n'en sais rien. Je suppose que la tâche est plus ardue là-bas. »Plus qu'au Ministère ? Ce serait presque vexant pour son père et les Aurors, ou pour toute autre personne s'assurant de la sécurité des lieux.Un froissement de papier la fit sortir de ses pensées. Luna était en train de sortir un bout de parchemin sur lequel Lily pouvait apercevoir une fine écriture se dessiner du bout de la baguette de la sorcière. Celle-ci se leva, et se dirigea vers l'adolescente pour le lui tendre, l'air décidé. Surprise, Lily le saisit du bout des doigts sans réellement le réaliser, fixant toujours le visage grave de Luna. Il était rare qu'elle arbore un tel air, et cela perturbait la jeune fille plus que de raison.« C'est la liste des Objets à réunir pour le sort dont je t'ai parlé, avec leur localisation et leur image descriptive », expliqua Luna. « Ceux qui ont déjà été volés ont été rayés. »Lily baissa le regard vers la chose en question, et vit que la plupart des lignes l'étaient. En fait, il n'en restait plus que trois à ne pas l'être.« Je… », commença-t-elle, gênée.« Je sais que tu ne me crois pas », l'interrompit Luna, et Lily sentit son ventre se nouer tandis qu'elle percevait la tristesse dans sa voix. « Même si actuellement, les faits sont loin de conforter mes dires, je sais que j'ai raison. Et je sais que bientôt, malheureusement, les événements me donneront raison. »Lily redressa la tête. Luna la fixa encore quelques secondes en silence, puis elle se détourna pour retourner à son canapé, et à sa précédente occupation. Elle se replongea dans ses documents et ne dit plus rien, comme coupée du monde. Laissant Lily plongée dans la stupeur la plus totale.Car même si elle ne croyait pas un traître mot de l'histoire fantasque de Luna, elle ne pouvait s'empêcher d'être perturbée par la certitude que Luna affichait, bien plus qu'elle n'était prête à l'admettre. Même à elle-même.xoxoComme à son habitude, lorsqu'elle pénétra dans le grand hall du Manoir Malefoy, Lily fut émerveillée par la beauté des lieux, qui respiraient la richesse et la noblesse, tout en conservant un petit côté chaleureux et accueillant, malgré la dominante de vert et d'argent. Les armoiries de la famille étaient gravées en plusieurs endroits, mais Lily ne s'y attarda pas, tournant son regard vers les escaliers et son ami qui les descendait.« Lily ! Tu es arrivée plus tôt que je ne le pensais ! »« Tu me manquais tellement ! » ricana la jeune fille, tout en marchant vers lui.Ils s'adressèrent une accolade, puis Scorpius proposa de monter dans sa chambre le soir tombait, mais le repas ne serait pas servi avant une heure.« Ton père est ici ? » fit-elle en jetant un coup d'œil à la porte de la Bibliothèque, fermée pour l'heure.« Oui, mais pas depuis longtemps. Faudra qu'on en parle. »L'air conspirateur de Scorpius l'intrigua. Elle n'était même pas sûre que le terme « conspirateur » fût correct, il avait l'air plutôt agacé en disant cela. Elle ne s'y attarda cependant pas, tandis qu'ils montaient les marches pour se diriger directement vers la chambre du jeune homme.Lily connaissait bien cette pièce, pour y être déjà rentrée à plusieurs reprises – elle servait souvent de lieu de rassemblement pour leur groupe d'amis, sachant qu'elle était très grande. Elle disposait d'une salle de bains privée et adjacente à la pièce, ainsi que d'un bureau muni d'une petite bibliothèque, lui aussi adjacent à la pièce à coucher. Comme tout Serpentard qui se respectait, le vert et l'argent recouvraient les murs, mais Lily eut la surprise de découvrir que dans un coin, un meuble rehaussé de rouge et de doré était confortablement calé contre le mur. Rouge et doré. « Qu'est-ce que c'est que ça ? » s'exclama-t-elle en le désignant.« De quoi ? »Scorpius tourna son regard vers la chose en question que Lily pointait du doigt, éberluée. Il n'y avait aucun Gryffondor dans la famille, pourtant ! Elle fut également surprise de la maigre réaction de son acolyte : il ne fit qu'hausser les épaules avec indifférence.« Ah, ça ? Un meuble, comme tu peux le voir. Pour ranger des affaires. »Lily roula des yeux, légèrement amusée. Mais cela ne répondait pas du tout à la question posée.« Pas ça idiot – je m'en serais doutée toute seule. Mais pourquoi ces couleurs ? »« Et pourquoi pas ? Ce ne sont que des couleurs, et ça fait plutôt joli. »« Tu plaisantes ? » Ricana-t-elle en secouant la tête, puis elle le jaugea avec sérieux.Comme elle ne souhaitait pas lâcher l'affaire, et le fixait d'un regard entendu, il finit par soupirer et par avouer, un léger sourire aux lèvres :« C'est de l'imprégnation. »« De la quoi ? »« De l'imprégnation », répéta-t-il, comme à une enfant à laquelle il apprendrait des mots. « Vu que Rose est à Gryffondor, il faut bien que je m'y habitue, et le plus tôt sera le mieux ! » s'exclama-t-il alors avec enthousiasme.Lily le fixa avec de grands yeux, considérant l'hypothèse d'un potentiel basculement vers la folie. Avant de secouer la tête, effarée et en même temps, amusée. Après tout, ce n'était pas si étonnant de sa part il disjonctait complètement lorsqu'il s'agissait de Rose.« De l'imprégnation », reprit-elle, tandis qu'elle s'efforçait de retenir une crise de fou rire – l'idée était tellement ridicule. « Ok, euh… Ok. Si tu veux. »« Je doute qu'elle accepte de vivre dans un monde uniquement composé de vert et d'argent », prit-il la peine d'expliquer pour se justifier, en désignant d'un geste de bras le reste de la pièce qui résumait si bien l'ensemble de la maison.Étant donné le caractère de la jeune fille, Lily en doutait également. Mais les couleurs des maisons ne constituaient pas le principal problème pour leur… mise en couple.N'empêche, la tête de Draco aurait certainement valu le coup d'œil si ce… changement de décoration se généralisait à l'ensemble de la bâtisse dans les années à venir. Elle savait qu'il y avait eu beaucoup de changements après la guerre contre le Seigneur des Ténèbres, mais rien d'aussi radical – les Malefoy avaient toujours tâché de conserver l'identité de leur famille, même s'ils s'étaient efforcés d'en effacer toute trace de liens avec la magie noire.« Je vois. Eh bien… c'est ta chambre », fit-elle en balayant la conversation d'un geste de la main pour y mettre fin, décrétant que cela ne valait pas la peine d'aller plus loin.Si cela pouvait lui faire plaisir, après tout.Les deux adolescents s'affalèrent sur le grand lit, et Lily bascula complètement pour se retrouver couchée, les jambes pendantes. Le contact avec les draps était doux et soyeux, et elle ferma les yeux en soupirant d'aise.« Alors… pourquoi voulais-tu tant me voir, aujourd'hui ? Pas que ta présence m'indispose – sinon, tu n'aurais pas pu venir, d'ailleurs ! » ajouta-t-il en aparté avec un rire, avant de reprendre plus de sérieux. « Il était prévu que l'on se voie demain. Ton après-midi avec Lysandre s'est mal passée ? »Lily secoua la tête pour démentir ses propos, mais Scorpius comprit à sa tête qu'il y avait quand même quelque chose qui la perturbait. Il l'enjoignit à parler, ce qu'elle ne tarda pas à faire :« Luna était là elle aussi. Pour rédiger son article. »Scorpius fronça les sourcils, l'air de dire qu'il ne voyait toujours pas où était le problème. De ce qu'il en savait, Lily l'appréciait.« Elle m'a reparlé de… de son histoire de Nargoles qui veulent détruire la ville, et des Objets. Bon, elle n'était pas aussi pressante qu'il y a deux jours, et elle a plutôt parlé des Objets – et elle n'a pas beaucoup parlé au final, et plutôt en fin d'après-midi, ce qui était plutôt cool. »Elle s'interrompit lorsqu'elle aperçut la mine sceptique de son ami, qui secoua la tête, désabusé.« Et ? Où est le problème, si elle n'a quasiment pas insisté ? Elle va bien finir à abandonner, si elle commence déjà à faiblir ! »Qu'est-ce qui pouvait troubler ainsi son amie, si elle n'avait presque rien dit ? Même si elle avait été agacée les fois précédentes, elle était vite passée outre. Or là, elle se mordillait les lèvres et se perdait dans ses pensées, comme si le peu que la Dragonneau avait pu dire avait fissuré les certitudes qu'elle avait. Scorpius fronça les sourcils. Elle ne commençait tout de même pas à envisager ses propos comme une éventualité ?« Écoute, je… je ne sais pas. Elle avait l'air si… si sûre d'elle. Je… »Lily était incapable d'exprimer le sentiment qui l'avait habitée, et qui l'habitait toujours.« Mais elle avait aussi l'air sûre d'elle, à la gare ! » Releva Scorpius, et Lily ne put le contredire.Par Merlin, pourquoi soudain cette impression étrange ? Pourquoi maintenant ? Pas plus qu'avant, elle n'était convaincue de ses propos, pourtant ! Et sa fichue liste ne prouvait rien du tout !Liste qu'elle avait par ailleurs conservée, et elle se demandait bien pourquoi.Elle sentit plus qu'elle ne vit Scorpius secouer la tête.« Elle est bizarre, quand même. Son insistance est vraiment louche – pourquoi tient-elle absolument à t'intégrer toi dans son trip ? Il ne se passe rien, elle aurait dû se rendre compte que c'est juste du délire ! »« C'est ce que je me suis dit aussi », affirma Lily, tandis qu'elle s'obligeait à se fermer à son trouble inexplicable. « Mais elle y croit dure comme fer elle m'a même donné la liste des Objets nécessaires à la mise en place de son soi-disant sort. »« C'est du grand n'importe quoi », ricana Scorpius, et le matelas eut quelques soubresauts qui firent ouvrir les yeux de la jeune fille. « Mais pourquoi t'en inquiètes-tu tant ? Continue de l'envoyer bouler, et elle finira par comprendre, ou par se lasser. »Ce fut au tour de Lily d'afficher du scepticisme.« Pas sûr. »A cette affirmation, Scorpius haussa juste les épaules avec désinvolture.« Bah, tu l'as dit toi-même, elle était déjà moins insistante aujourd'hui. D'ici la fin des vacances, elle devrait être passée à autre chose – auquel cas, de toute façon, tu seras de retour à Poudlard, et Luna n'y a pas accès. Déstresse. »« Je ne stresse pas », bouda-t-elle.Il y avait juste cette insistance à son encontre qui était totalement incompréhensible. Et ce léger trouble qui secouait son esprit, aussi. Comme si, inconsciemment, ce dernier commençait à considérer la possibilité que les dires de la quadragénaire pourraient avoir un fond de vérité. Mais ce n'était pas possible.Puis elle repensa au Miroir et à son reflet, et songea au fait qu'elle n'avait rien subi, ni entr'aperçu quelque tentative à son encontre. Elle avait d'ailleurs fini par oublier quelque peu cet incident, de même que son père, visiblement, puisqu'il ne l'avait pas séquestrée dans la maison des Potter ou dans une planque quelconque.« Comment a-t-elle pu afficher mon reflet, dans ce cas ? » chuchota-t-elle pour elle-même.Après tout, l'idée d'un terroriste voulant attenter à sa vie ou la kidnapper était incohérente, mais la façon dont Luna était parvenue à faire apparaître son image échappait totalement à la jeune fille. Mais selon la question posée, cela pouvait expliquer son obsession pour elle.Comment avait-elle justifié cela, déjà, elle ? Une histoire de Garde des Sceaux ? Ah oui ! La Gardienne des Sceaux.« Tu repenses encore à ça ? »« Parce que ça ne t'interpelle pas, toi ? » répliqua-t-elle aussitôt en croisant les bras derrière la tête.Le bâillement émis près d'elle constituait un élément de réponse.« Bah, je ne vois pas pourquoi tu te biles pour ça, le mec t'a certainement confondu avec quelqu'un d'autre. Après tout, personne n'a essayé de t'attaquer depuis, et il n'existe pas beaucoup de raisons expliquant le fait de risquer de se faire arrêter pour t'admirer dans un miroir – surtout en sachant que tout le monde sait déjà qui tu es et où tu te trouvais à ce moment-là. »Tiens, elle n'avait pas pensé à ça. Ou peut-être que si elle ne se rappelait plus vraiment.« Sauf qu'ils ont dû repasser les souvenirs de cet homme au crible, et papa n'aurait pas confondu – en plus, les murs de Poudlard sont assez reconnaissables. »« Donc, tu crois davantage plausible le fait que Luna ait fait apparaître ton reflet en demandant au Miroir qui est la Gardienne des Sceaux ? »Ah, c'était bien le terme exact.Lily marqua quelques secondes d'hésitation, réfléchissant. Et cela n'échappa pas à Scorpius, qui fronça les sourcils.« Non. Mais… et si elle avait posé une question du genre, mais de sorte à ce que le Miroir interprète mal sa question et se trompe dans la réponse fournie ? »« C'est tordu ton truc. Il n'y a pas trente-six façons de poser la question, aussi. Et si la question était trop alambiquée et incompréhensible, le Miroir n'aurait pas réagi. En plus, il parait qu'il a un fonctionnement plutôt capricieux. »Après quelques secondes, elle finit par se ranger à son avis, d'accord avec lui sur ce point. Pourtant, c'était la seule chose un tant soit peu crédible qui lui venait à l'esprit pour expliquer les événements qui s'étaient produits – après tout, un assassin ne se serait pas gêné de tuer cet employé du Ministère afin d'éviter que la question du Miroir, qui aurait rapidement fini par s'éteindre, ne s'ébruite, hors il s'était contenté de l'assommer par derrière et de s'enfuir.« Si tu le dis », abandonna finalement Lily en se frottant les yeux.Sans doute avait-il raison, après tout. Elle se questionnait beaucoup trop pour pas grand-chose.« Sinon, c'est quoi le problème avec ton père ? » fit-elle pour changer de sujet, même si elle ne savait pas du tout dans quoi elle s'embarquait.Elle ne voyait pas pourquoi il y aurait un problème avec Draco, sérieusement. Il était loin d'être le pire père qui soit pour son fils unique, bien au contraire.« Mon père fréquente une femme ! » s'écria alors Scorpius, et Lily poussa un soupir de dépit.Ne lui avait-il pas déjà parlé d'un truc du genre ?« Et pourquoi dis-tu ça ? Parce qu'il est rentré un peu tard, d'après toi ? Il est Directeur de la Justice Magique, il est facile pour lui d'y avoir des empêchements ! »« Lily, on est dimanche. »… Ah. Forcément, les possibilités de blocage au sein de son bureau s'amenuisaient.« Mais tu sais, il est grand et a une vie lui aussi, et des amis », rétorqua-t-elle alors. « Il a pu partir les voir. Et puis de toute façon, quoi qu'il fasse, ça ne te concerne pas ! Sortir n'est pas un crime, quand même ! »« Une belle-mère, ça risque de me concerner, tôt ou tard », bougonna Scorpius, de mauvaise foi.Lily roula des yeux, exaspérée, et redressa le buste pour mieux le voir. Il était à présent assis en pacha, les jambes croisées, le dos adossé à une pile d'oreillers eux-mêmes calés contre le mur, de sorte qu'il formait un angle de cinquante degrés avec l'horizontale. Sa position, ainsi que les boutons de sa chemise défaits, ses cheveux un peu en bataille, et son air renfrogné suffirent à la faire sourire, et elle secoua la tête avec amusement.« Ce n'est pas parce qu'il sort de temps en temps sans t'en faire un compte-rendu détaillé qu'il est forcément en train d'organiser son futur mariage. Et puis, tu ne trouves pas que tu exagères ? Tu devrais plutôt être content pour lui si c'était le cas, je te ferai remarquer qu'il est tout seul depuis la mort de ta mère ! »Le visage du jeune Malefoy se figea quelques secondes, avant de paraître songeur. Elle n'ajouta rien, préférant le laisser méditer sur ses paroles, et se laissa retomber sur le lit. Mais ce silence ne dura pas longtemps, car Scorpius reprit la parole – et Lily sentit parfaitement son malaise :« Je n'avais pas pensé à ça. C'est vrai que, qu'avec le recul, mon père doit se sentir vraiment seul, mais… et c'est vrai, je sais que, même s'ils ont tout fait pour moi, pour être de bons parents, je sais qu'en vérité, il n'aimait pas ma mère… Sans doute ne l'a-t-il jamais aimé, d'ailleurs. Après tout, leur mariage était de pure convenance, entre familles de sang-purs. Quel gâchis. Je ne comprends pas pourquoi mon père a accepté de se soumettre à une telle chose, moi je ne le pourrais pas ! »« En même temps, je ne veux pas dire, mais le contexte est complètement différent, et tu ne risques rien avec le père que t'as », ne put s'empêcher de glisser Lily avec cynisme, bien qu'elle ait écouté avec attention chacun des mots de son ami.Mais Scorpius l'ignora, et continua, inébranlable – et Lily n'était plus si sûre qu'il lui parlait vraiment il devait plutôt exprimer à haute voix ses pensées sur la question :« Et pour quoi ? Juste pour conserver la pureté de notre lignée ! Ah, ça, ils vont être déçus, parce que je mettrai un terme à ces conneries ! »« Ça, tu n'en sais encore rien », fit remarquer Lily, mais le regard pétillant du jeune homme la laissa deviner l'identité de sa prétendue future femme – Rose. « Scorp', elle est loin de vouloir se marier avec toi, tu sais, et encore plus loin de vouloir porter tes gosses. »Cette idée n'avait jamais dû traverser le cerveau de la rouquine, d'ailleurs, ou seulement dans ses pires cauchemars.« Tu n'en sais rien ! Elle s'est adoucie avec moi, n'as-tu pas remarqué ? »« Bah… »Rien qui laissait supposer un mariage à venir… La jeune fille s'était réellement adoucie, certes, mais leur relation était loin d'être amicale – même pas sûr qu'elle fût cordiale.« Ah, quel cynisme ! » lâcha-t-il après quelques secondes, tandis que Lily continuait à se taire.Elle tourna la tête vers lui, et s'amusa de la tête de malheureux qu'il arborait. Le pauvre jouait à l'incompris, mais son petit sourire suffisant lui faisait perdre tout crédit.xoxoAssis à l'écart, les trois Serpentard admiraient le chapiteau qui se dressait dans le jardin du Terrier des Weasley, fière flamme colorée tranchant net dans ce décor de blancheur immaculée. Pour ceux qui n'étaient pas partis en vacances, les parents avaient tenu à se rassembler, donnant ainsi l'occasion à leurs enfants de se voir. Plusieurs petits groupes parsemaient ainsi le jardin, et derrière, la grande tente abritait très certainement le goûter. Pour l'heure, Mme Weasley tenait à ce qu'il restât fermé. Tout le monde n'était pas encore arrivé, et il était tôt.Scorpius soupira lorsqu'il vit passer Rose à quelques centaines de mètres de lui. La jeune fille ne l'avait pas vu, mais il savait que l'interpeller était inutile. A part pour se prendre un vent. Il préféra donc tourner son regard gris vers ses deux plus proches amis, et actuellement les seuls présents, d'ailleurs.« James n'est pas venu avec vous ? »Il se fichait assez de la réponse, mais s'ennuyait un peu – les deux autres se contentaient pour le moment de grelotter en fixant la neige d'un regard vide, et il était donc de son devoir de les ramener dans le monde présent.Les deux Potter levèrent les yeux vers lui, puis Albus secoua la tête.« Non. Je ne sais plus où il est, mais il arrivera d'ici peu, par ses propres moyens. »Scorpius n'insista pas, et cette conversation s'arrêta là. Tous trois se remirent à fixer les petits groupes devant eux en resserrant les pans de leurs manteaux sur eux. Le jeune Malefoy rechercha aussitôt son père, après s'être aperçu de l'absence d'anciens Serpentard – il devait réellement se sentir seul, il n'y avait presque que des anciens Gryffondor. A sa surprise, il l'aperçut en train de discuter avec les membres du célèbre Trio d'Or et les Weasley, tandis qu'il se tenait près d'Hermione Granger.« Je ne savais pas que mon père fréquentait Hermione », s'étonna Scorpius.Mais son constat n'ébranla que lui. Ses deux amis agitèrent faiblement leurs épaules avec indifférence.« Elle est Ministre, et lui travaille au Ministère », s'efforça d'ajouter Lily en réprimant un bâillement. « Rien d'étonnant donc, c'est sa supérieure. En plus, vu les relations houleuses qu'ils ont entretenues par le passé, c'est plutôt bien. Que ce soit avec elle, ou les autres. »« Je l'admets », marmonna Scorpius.Et puis, il valait mieux pour lui qu'ils s'acceptent, s'il parvenait enfin à se mettre en couple avec Rose – ce serait sans doute peut-être plus compliqué avec Ronald, son ex-mari, qui était également présent. Même si pour l'heure, rien ne semblait indiquer un quelconque conflit entre les deux anciens ennemis.Comme son attention quittait le groupe d'adultes, il s'aperçut que le regard de Lily était fixé en un point bien particulier, et Scorpius reconnut Lysandre. La famille Dragonneau, y compris Rolf que l'on voyait peu ces derniers temps, venait d'apparaître dans le jardin, et ils furent aussitôt accueillis chaleureusement par les Weasley.Il reporta son attention sur son amie, et fut étonné par le petit air triste qu'elle arborait.« Lily, ça ne va pas ? »Elle devait être plongée dans ses pensées, car elle sursauta légèrement à son nom, avant de se tourner vers Scorpius.« Pourquoi ça n'irait pas ? J'ai juste froid, c'est tout », fit-elle en se détournant avec un frisson.Scorpius adopta une moue dubitative, mais n'insista pas. Albus était encore présent, et Lily ne voulait pas que l'histoire de Luna ni son attirance pour Lysandre ne se sachent, et il se doutait que son trouble avait un rapport avec un de ces deux points, voire les deux.Mais Albus était loin d'être un idiot, et devinait que le 'problème' de sa sœur devait concerner un de leurs secrets. Comme le silence s'installait pesamment entre eux, il décida de les laisser seuls quelques minutes, et se leva.« Je vais voir s'il n'y aurait pas quelque chose à boire à l'intérieur. Vous voulez quelque chose ? »« Non merci », fit Scorpius, en même temps que Lily secouait la tête en signe de dénégation d'un air distrait, le regard hagard perdu dans le vide devant elle.« Ok. A tout' ! »La neige crissa sous ses pas, et ce ne fut que lorsque plusieurs dizaines de mètres les séparaient que Scorpius demanda :« C'est quoi le problème avec Lysandre ? Je croyais que vous vous voyiez régulièrement, et que vous vous entendiez plutôt bien, non ? »En effet, comme elle avait gardé un moyen de le contacter, elle lui avait proposé à plusieurs reprises de se voir, et jusqu'à présent, il avait toujours accepté. Il ne s'était même pas vexé tandis qu'elle s'évertuait à éviter sa maison, le Muséum et la Bibliothèque, les pires endroits où elle était le plus susceptible d'y croiser Luna. Pas qu'elle cherchait à l'éviter absolument, mais… juste à la croiser le moins possible.Un énorme soupir fendit l'air au bout de quelques secondes, avant que Lily ne réponde :« Ce n'est pas lui. C'est… c'est Luna. Je… Elle a encore essayé de me convaincre ces derniers jours avec son histoire de Nargoles. Pas longtemps, non, mais-mais elle m'en reparle régulièrement, et c'est lassant. »Scorpius fronça les sourcils.« Ça pourrait presque passer pour du harcèlement, ça », lâcha-t-il. « Tu ne crois pas que tu devrais en parler à tes parents ? Parce que c'est quand même exagéré de sa part ! »Lily haussa les épaules, indifférente. Ce n'était pas là le problème, ou du moins pas ce qui la préoccupait à l'heure actuelle.« Non, je ne sais pas comment ils réagiraient, ils risqueraient d'interpréter ça de travers, et Luna ne mérite pas ça. De toute façon, elle finira bien par arrêter un jour. »« Mais ils peuvent aller lui parler, tu sais », argua Scorpius. « Lui demander d'arrêter de t'emmerder. »Nouveau haussement d'épaules. Devinant que ce n'était pas la véritable raison de son abattement, Scorpius décida de passer outre pour le moment :« Et donc, où est le problème ? »Au début, aucune réponse ne vint, de sorte qu'il crut bien qu'il n'en aurait jamais. Mais Lily cherchait juste ses mots, et elle mit presque une minute avant de se décider à parler :« Eh bien… Je commence à me demander s'il n'accepterait de me fréquenter uniquement à cause de sa mère », avoua finalement Lily, amère, le regard toujours plongé devant elle. « De sa soudaine lubie me concernant », précisa-t-elle en levant finalement son regard vers lui.Et le pire était qu'à cause de cela, elle en voulait à Luna – un peu, et malgré elle. Elle doutait que Luna ait clairement dit à son fils de se rapprocher d'elle dans cette optique, mais elle ne pouvait s'empêcher de remarquer qu'il lui parlait enfin seulement depuis le moment où sa mère était partie dans ses délires nargolesques.« D'où sors-tu ça ? » fit le blond en fronçant les sourcils. « Lui aussi essaie de te convaincre ? »« Non ! Non, c'est juste que –»« Il essaie de te forcer à te retrouver systématiquement en présence de sa mère ? »« Non ! Non, il n'a rien dit lorsque je –»« Alors tout va bien », décréta-t-il en basculant le dos contre le dossier du banc – qui se révéla glacé, malgré l'épaisseur de manteau qui le protégeait.Il se redressa donc promptement, et se frotta vigoureusement le dos avec un frisson dans l'espoir de faire partir l'affreuse sensation, comme si son dos s'était congelé au contact du froid. Cependant, comme il voyait que Lily le fixait intensément avec un mélange de doute et d'espoir, il ne tarda pas à reprendre :« C'est juste une coïncidence, tu sais. On ne peut pas dire que tu lui parlais beaucoup, avant. En fait, tu devrais plutôt la remercier de ce point de vue-là, parce que grâce à elle, vous êtes amis maintenant ! »Lily fit une petite moue et réfléchit quelques secondes. C'était vrai qu'elle s'était suffisamment rapprochée du jeune homme pour pouvoir le considérer comme un ami à présent, et lui de même.« Tu as raison ! »Un air de satisfaction envahit alors ses traits, tandis qu'Albus revenait, une tasse fumante en main. Il vit aussitôt la mine réjouie de sa sœur, et il en haussa les sourcils.« Eh bien, mon absence t'aura fait du bien ! » s'amusa-t-il en se rasseyant, et il fut confirmé par un hochement de tête vigoureux de la jeune fille. « Je suppose que je n'en saurais pas un mot ? »« Mmh, peut-être plus tard », minauda Lily, désormais de très bonne humeur – puis elle se leva à son tour. « Ta tasse m'a donné soif. Il en reste encore ? »« Dans la cuisine », confirma Albus en trempant les lèvres dans le liquide, et il fut surpris que Scorpius se lève à son tour. « Toi aussi ? Vous auriez pu le dire, je vous aurais attendu là-bas ! »« Mais on ne le savait pas ! » rigola la jeune fille.Et finalement, Albus se leva à son tour pour suivre ses deux amis, reprenant le chemin qu'il venait d'emprunter. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Lily tapota le bout de sa valise de sa baguette, songeuse, tout en fixant ses affaires compactées à l'intérieur. Il lui semblait n'avoir rien oublié, mais ne savait-on jamais. Même si ses parents pouvaient facilement lui envoyer des colis, autant vérifier à présent pour éviter cette situation. Scorpius et les autres ne devaient arriver que dans vingt minutes, et elle avait autant de temps à tuer.Il était rare qu'elle pensât ainsi, mais malgré qu'elle ait pu voir ses amis régulièrement au cours de ces deux semaines, elle était bien heureuse que ces vacances touchent enfin à leur fin. A cause d'une seule et unique personne : Luna. Pas qu'elle se fût mise à la détester, non. Au contraire, elle l'appréciait beaucoup. Mais sa présence était devenue presque insoutenable pour la jeune fille ces derniers temps. Sa lubie n'avait pas disparu, et Lily commençait même à développer une sérieuse allergie au simple mot Nargoles. Ce n'était jamais très long pourtant – ses arguments étaient pauvres, et elle avait au moins le mérite de ne pas répéter dix mille fois la même chose – mais elle-même n'en pouvait plus, et son léger trouble qui l'agitait lorsqu'elle voyait le visage si déterminé et désespéré de la femme ne l'aidait pas à l'ignorer ou à la repousser comme elle le voudrait. Ainsi, moins elle se trouvait en sa présence, mieux elle se portait. Et quoi de mieux que les murs de Poudlard pour la cacher de la présence envahissante de Luna ?Lily plissa les yeux quelques secondes en fixant ses affaires dans l'espoir de recentrer son attention dessus, mais lorsqu'elle chercha ce qui pouvait lui manquer, rien ne lui vint à l'esprit. Que ce fussent affaires de cours, vêtements ou autres, tout y était. Finalement, elle agita sa baguette en soufflant une formule d'une voix à peine audible, et la valise se referma d'un claquement sec. Puis elle baissa les bras en soupirant. Mais ce serait bientôt fini tout ça. Luna n'avait pas accès à l'enceinte de l'Ecole. Poudlard la protégerait d'elle. En espérant que lorsqu'elle en ressortirait, Luna aurait abandonné son idée loufoque. Après tout, avec le temps, elle devrait bien se rendre compte de la stupidité de ses propos ?« Lily, tu as fini ? »La jeune fille sursauta à la voix de son père, étouffée par l'épaisseur des murs, et elle se retourna en sa direction. Personne en vue, malgré la porte ouverte. Des bruits de pas et les grincements du plancher se firent entendre.« Oui ! Enfin, je pense », répondit-elle finalement, conservant son regard tourné vers l'ouverture.Quelques secondes plus tard, la tête d'Harry apparut dans l'encadrement de la porte, puis le corps entier. Un léger sourire étirait ses lèvres, et Lily le jaugea avec curiosité. Elle aurait pensé qu'il était reparti travailler, pourtant. Avec le poste qu'il occupait, il avait de quoi faire, en plus.« Je vais y aller », fit-il, comme s'il avait lu dans ses pensées, mais Lily savait que ce n'était pas le cas – même s'il avait développé des capacités de Legilimens, il ne les utilisait pas si cela n'était pas nécessaire, et encore moins sur les membres de sa propre famille. « C'est juste pour te dire que Scorpius est arrivé. »« Déjà ? » s'écria Lily, en regardant l'heure.Il avait dix minutes d'avance ! Habituellement, il avait plutôt tendance à arriver en retard.« Mais pourquoi n'est-il pas monté ? » s'étonna-t-elle ensuite.« Albus est avec lui. »Lily hocha la tête.Mais son père ne partit pas, et prit un air un peu hésitant, qu'elle ne comprit pas. Il se cala même contre l'encadrement de la porte, semblant chercher ses mots, et Lily comprit encore moins. Heureusement – et son boulot devait certainement y être pour quelque chose – cela ne dura pas longtemps, et il la fixa d'un air étrange :« C'est quoi le problème avec Luna ? »Oh. Lily grimaça. Donc, ses tentatives d'évitement discret ne l'étaient pas tant que cela. Donc, Luna avait parfaitement dû s'en rendre compte – enfin, même sans cela, elle avait déjà dû s'en rendre compte de toute façon, étant donné qu'au fil de leurs rencontres, elle se faisait de plus en plus prudente et précautionneuse, certainement dans le but d'éviter de la fâcher. Mais comment le dire à son père ? Franchement, il n'y avait pas de quoi en faire tout un drame – la situation était ridicule, avec le recul. Mais comment allait-il le prendre ? Et pourquoi cela l'intéressait-il, d'ailleurs ?Le tout pour le tout, peut-être le déni marcherait-il ? Ou au moins refrénerait son insistance – en plus, il devait partir.« Mais de quoi tu parles ? »Elle était fière d'elle sa voix était forte et ferme, avec un soupçon de surprise feinte. Cela aurait été vrai qu'elle n'aurait pas mieux fait.Mais Harry fronça les sourcils, et Lily savait que cela était loin d'annoncer son départ. Elle retint avec peine une grimace ou un soupir, conservant un visage vaguement intrigué.« Tu sais parfaitement de quoi je parle. Cela fait quelques jours que tu essaies de l'éviter. Ou du moins d'éviter de te retrouver en sa présence si personne n'est là. Tu trouves toujours des prétextes pour discuter avec d'autres personnes. Pourquoi ? »Et Lily n'avait plus qu'à maudire la perspicacité de son père. Quoique, cela lui était quand même bien utile dans son boulot. Mais pour le coup, elle aurait préféré qu'il balaie cette idée de son esprit.Elle fit semblant de froncer les sourcils, l'air de ne rien comprendre de ce qu'il lui racontait, mais avant qu'elle ne put protester, il secoua la tête, devinant sans doute ce qu'elle allait dire :« Épargne-moi ton numéro de l'ignorante. Je le vois, et je vois aussi que ton comportement blesse Luna. Pourquoi fais-tu ça ? »Lily se sentit désolée pour la femme qu'elle appréciait, mais au vu de la situation, rien d'autre ne lui venait à l'esprit pour ne plus avoir à se confronter à toute cette stupide histoire. Par Merlin, qu'avait-elle donc fait pour mériter cela ?« Je… »Et Scorpius, ne pouvait-il pas monter l'aider, cet imbécile ? Non, c'était mieux de discuter avec Albus, et de la laisser toute seule à se justifier de son comportement oh combien blessant, mais nécessaire – selon elle et ses nerfs. Il aurait pu lui servir de diversion, pourtant.Et Harry ne fut pas le moins du monde magnanime, l'enjoignant à continuer d'un sourcil haussé. Lily déglutit, mais elle avait l'impression de manquer de salive. Puis elle soupira cette situation aussi était oh combien ridicule, et sa réaction aussi. Après tout, qu'y pouvait-elle ? Éviter Luna était certes puéril, mais relativement efficace ! Ce n'était pas comme si elle n'avait jamais tenté de lui faire entendre raison !« C'est juste que… tu te rappelles des vols des Objets ? »Harry lui jeta un regard interrogateur.« Oui, pourquoi ? »Puis il fronça soudain des sourcils. Lily ne savait pas à quoi il venait soudain de penser, ni si cela était de bon présage pour elle. Mais elle n'avait rien fait de mal, pas vrai ? Enfin, presque !« Eh bien, euh… je ne sais pas pourquoi, mais Luna s'est mise en tête que les Nargoles étaient derrière ces vols, qu'ils veulent détruire Londres, que je suis la Gardienne des Sceaux et donc la seule à pouvoir m'opposer à eux ! Je sais que l'éviter est puéril ! » se justifia-t-elle ensuite avec empressement en levant les mains en signe de défense, tandis que le visage de son père se décomposait. « Mais j'ai bien tenté de lui rétorquer que je n'y crois pas, mais elle ne veut rien entendre, et m'en reparle à chaque fois que l'on se croise ! Enfin chaque fois, c'est peut-être un peu fort, ce n'est pas non plus comme si elle – »« Et cela dure depuis combien de temps ? » la coupa-t-il sèchement.Lily lui jeta un regard rempli de curiosité. Étrangement, à voir son air, elle avait l'impression que sa colère croissante n'était pas dirigée contre elle. Mais contre qui ? Luna ?Oh non. Il devait interpréter cela comme une sorte de harcèlement. Il ne fallait pas non plus exagérer, ce n'était pas à ce point-là, et puis, Luna croyait réellement bien faire ! Son inquiétude était réelle ! Elle ne méritait pas de se faire traiter de… de… d'harceleuse ?« Euh, je ne me souviens pas exactement… mais pas très longtemps, rassure-toi ! Ce n'est sans doute que passager, elle va – »« Ça, elle va en entendre parler ! » grogna-t-il finalement, et Lily se retint de se frapper le front tandis que son père se redressait, la mâchoire serrée. « Ne t'inquiète pas, elle ne t'embêtera plus avec cela. J'irai lui parler. »Elle cligna des yeux en le fixant. Étrangement, elle ne se sentit pas le moins du monde rassurée. Pas pour elle-même. Pour Luna.« Papa… », tenta-t-elle, mais il balaya son intervention d'un geste de la main.« Ne t'inquiète pas, je ne ferai que lui parler. A nous aussi, elle nous a fait le même topo, mais là, elle va trop loin ! Vouloir t'impliquer dans ses conneries ! »Après quelques secondes de silence songeur, elle finit par acquiescer à ses mots. Après tout, Harry était d'un tempérament plutôt calme, habituellement, sans doute que d'ici à ce que cette conversation ait lieu, il se serait calmé ? Et puis, il ne s'en prendrait pas à Luna elle délirait juste, mais elle n'avait tué personne. Pas de quoi en faire toute une histoire.« Bon, j'y vais ! » s'écria-t-il alors, d'une voix bien moins enjouée qu'à son arrivée.Déjà là, sa colère avait fortement décru, et son expression s'était réduite à un air fâché figé sur ses traits. Lily lui adressa un regard de gratitude pour cela, mais elle n'était pas sûre qu'il l'ait vu ou bien compris. Il disparut de son champ de vision, et ses bruits de pas s'amenuisèrent, tandis qu'il se dirigeait vers le salon et sa cheminée.Puis elle se souvint d'Albus et de Scorpius, et des autres qui étaient peut-être arrivés à l'heure actuelle.« Faut pas s'inquiéter, il va juste lui parler… », marmonna-t-elle pour elle-même en quittant la pièce.Bien qu'elle aurait préféré que cela ne se sache pas…xoxoLily tira Scorpius sur quelques mètres, de sorte à les éloigner de leurs parents respectifs, puis s'arrêta. Ils étaient également plus proches du train, certes, mais là n'était pas son but, pas encore elle souhaitait juste lui parler à part, dans un coin un peu tranquille. Chose un peu délicate à cette heure, alors que le quai était bien rempli.« C'était pour quoi ? » fit le jeune homme en jetant un autre regard vers leurs parents, et vers Albus qui les fixait avec de grands yeux étonnés. « Pourquoi t'as pas voulu qu'Albus vienne ? »« Il n'est pas au courant, et je ne veux pas qu'il le soit », grogna Lily en réponse, et Scorpius leva un sourcil, l'air de dire « Bah moi non plus je ne suis pas au courant, et je suis là, moi ».Mais Lily l'ignora et le fixa avec insistance.« Mon père sait pour Luna. »« Mmh ? Tu veux dire, son histoire de Nargoles ? Elle lui en avait déjà parlé ? »« Oui et… Il sait aussi qu'elle insiste auprès de moi pour que je l'aide. »Scorpius adopta un air surpris.« Hein ? Mais pourquoi tu le lui as dit ? Je croyais que tu ne voulais pas qu'il – »« Hé, c'est lui qui a insisté ! Il a vu que j'ai cherché à l'éviter pendant toutes ces vacances, il a voulu savoir, alors j'ai fini par le lui dire. »« Mais il compte faire quoi ? »« Lui parler, il a dit. Je suis sûre que maman est également au courant, maintenant. »Elle vit plus loin Luna apparaître avec ses deux fils, et grimaça de manière suffisamment éloquente pour Scorpius, qui en comprit aussitôt la raison sans avoir à se retourner. Vu que son père se trouvait également là, alors qu'il aurait dû être au Ministère, elle était à peu près sûre qu'il irait la voir pour lui parler. Et ce, malgré qu'ils fussent dans une gare bien fréquentée, avec un train sur le point de partir qui plus est – donc le quai était loin d'être vide à ce moment-là. Si elle voulait éviter que cette histoire ne s'ébruite, elle risquait d'être gâtée.En retournant son attention vers son ami, elle aperçut aussitôt son air compatissant, et comprit qu'il en était arrivé à la même conclusion. Et ce, même si Harry ne faisait pas mine de se diriger vers la Dragonneau. En fait, il n'était même pas sûr qu'il l'ait aperçu, étant donné qu'elle était encore assez éloignée des abords du train.Elle le vit soudain serrer les mâchoires en pâlissant, et tourna la tête pour voir de quoi il était question. Il ne s'agissait que de son père, Draco, en train de discuter avec Hermione, un peu en retrait par rapport aux amis de la lionne. Seuls.« Bah, qu'est-ce qu'il y a ? » fit Lily en continuant de les fixer sans comprendre.Mais Scorpius les dévisageait comme si une catastrophe allait se produire, et Lily ne savait pas si elle devait s'en inquiéter ou s'en agacer.Elle eut rapidement sa réponse.« Je t'ai déjà dit pour les rendez-vous de mon père. »Il lui fallut quelques secondes pour se remémorer la discussion là-dessus et pour faire le lien entre ça et la situation actuelle.« Attends, s'écria-t-elle, tu crois que – »« C'est sûr », fit-il d'un ton ferme en se renfrognant. « Tout concorde. »« Tout con – ? Quoi ? Mais-mais tu racontes n'importe quoi ! Mais d'où sors-tu ça ? Ils ne font que parler, c'est tout à fait normal, je te rappelle qu'ils bossent dans le même Ministère ! »Lily avait bien envie de le frapper pour le coup, et toujours pour la même chose. Scorpius n'avait pas à s'en mêler, et encore moins à l'y mêler elle !« Et même si c'était vrai, où est le problème ? »Après tout, Hermione était divorcée, et était loin d'être la pire 'belle-mère' que Scorpius pouvait avoir.« Où est le problème ? » répéta Scorpius en se tournant finalement vers elle, l'air de se dire qu'elle était complètement aveugle et inconsciente. « Mais c'est Rose ! »« Quoi ? »Lily fut bien tentée de répliquer que Rose n'en aurait certainement fichtrement rien à foutre, elle, avant que l'évidence ne lui sautât soudain aux yeux. Ah oui, Rose. Sa future « promise ». Qui deviendrait une sorte de « sœur par alliance ». Le problème n'était pas la belle-mère en soi, à l'heure actuelle, mais plutôt qu'elle fût la mère de Rose.« Si ça peut te rassurer, là-dessus, je ne suis pas sûre que Rose en serait plus ravie », grogna-t-elle finalement alors qu'il s'était remis à lorgner avec insistance les deux incriminés.Sauf que pour elle, ce serait davantage parce qu'elle le détestait lui, en fait.« Mais tu sais, tu te biles sans doute pour rien. Ils ne – »Elle s'apprêtait à dire qu'ils ne partageaient pas grand-chose, du moins pas qu'elle sache, lorsque l'improbable se produisit : les deux adultes s'embrassèrent, et le baiser échangé était loin de prêter à confusion.Elle se tut donc, et tourna un regard confus et gêné vers son ami. Ce dernier était partagé entre la stupéfaction – malgré ses dires, lui-même ne s'y était visiblement pas attendu –, le dégoût et la colère. En quelques secondes, la colère prit le pas sur tout le reste, et transparaissait clairement sur son visage.« Scorp'… », tenta-t-elle en posant une main apaisante sur le bras de son ami, sans succès.Son geste fut royalement ignoré, toute l'attention du Malefoy portée vers son père et sa compagne. Elle insista, et lui tira le bras.« Scorpius, je – »« De toutes les femmes de cette planète, il aura fallu qu'il décide de la choisir elle », persifla-t-il finalement, et Lily devina alors que sa colère était spécifiquement dirigée contre son père.Il devait le vivre comme une trahison, en quelque sorte. Lily fronça les sourcils. Pourtant, il n'était même pas sûr que son père fût au courant des sentiments qu'avait son fils pour Rose. Avaient-ils un jour eu ce genre de discussion ? Scorpius était certes plutôt proche de son père, mais elle en doutait. Comment Draco aurait-il donc pu deviner ? Il devait à peine savoir à quoi ressemblait la jeune fille en question, et rien ne lui aurait permis de l'associer à son fils.Par contre, son ami, lui, se fichait pas mal de ce genre de considérations. Et, pire que tout, il saurait se rendre insupportable dans les jours voire semaines à venir – parce que ce serait eux, ses amis, qui en subiraient les conséquences. Son père ? Certainement qu'il refuserait de lui parler pendant un moment. Il était tout à fait possible que Draco s'en rende à peine compte – même sans cela, ils ne se seraient pas beaucoup vus de toute manière, l'un enfermé à Poudlard et l'autre pris par son travail. Elle en venait presque à regretter ses congés, Luna et son histoire de Nargoles destructeurs.Presque.« Scorp', tu exagères, ils se sont juste embrassés, ça ne veut pas dire qu'ils vont rester ensemble pour le reste de leur vie ! Si ça se trouve, dans une semaine ce sera déjà terminé ! »Mais le blond ne l'écouta pas, trop occupé à fusiller rageusement du regard le nouveau couple, et Lily roula des yeux face à son comportement tout simplement puéril. Elle comprenait son ressentiment, mais il n'y avait pas de quoi en faire tout un drame !Elle reporta son attention sur Luna et sa robe fluo, et se glaça en apercevant son regard posé sur elle. La scène lui rappela étrangement celle datant de deux semaines, au début des vacances, tandis qu'ils quittaient le train. Sauf qu'elle ne voulait pas que cela se reproduise. Elle ne voulait pas la réentendre parler de ses Nargoles. Et son père qui ne semblait pas prêt à aller vers elle, se rendit-elle compte en jetant un regard en sa direction. S'était-il seulement rendu compte de sa présence ? Peut-être pas, pensa-t-elle tandis qu'il riait avec Ron et Ginny, les adolescents un peu en retrait discutant entre eux avec enthousiasme, s'agitant pour retrouver leurs amis respectifs. Albus a dû partir retrouver les autres, se dit-elle alors tandis que le jeune homme demeurait introuvable.Il leur fallait donc partir au plus vite. Retrouver Albus, par exemple ? Et puis, l'heure du départ du train se rapprochait à grands pas il leur faudrait bien monter un jour ou l'autre.Elle tira donc Scorpius par le bras afin qu'il la suive, et il ne daigna se tourner vers elle que lorsqu'il parcourut quelques centimètres à reculons et faillit trébucher.« Il faut qu'on monte. Albus n'est plus là », se justifia-t-elle en accélérant le pas, comme si Luna était à leurs trousses.Pourtant, elle ne savait même pas si la femme avait amorcé un seul pas en sa direction et elle ne le vérifia pas. Elle s'engouffra à l'intérieur du train avec une ardeur non feint qui surprit Scorpius, lui faisant momentanément oublier sa colère précédente. Alors qu'il faillit tomber une nouvelle fois et bouscula sans le vouloir quelques élèves, il ne put s'empêcher de lâcher :« Mais qu'est-ce qui te prend ? »Son exclamation eut le mérite de sortir Lily de ses penses angoissées. Pourtant, malgré qu'ils fussent déjà à l'abri, elle ne tourna même pas le visage vers son ami.« Hm ? Il faut trouver Albus ! Il – »« Il est entré dans le train, je l'ai vu », l'interrompit-il, « mais – »« Eh bien voilà, tant mieux ! Nous y sommes aussi à présent ! »Elle fit glisser la porte du wagon et entra dans le couloir, suivie par un Malefoy quelque peu éberlué. Cependant, il ne chercha pas longtemps la raison de cet empressement soudain et haussa finalement les épaules pour lui-même.« Si tu veux… », marmonna-t-il faiblement, de sorte qu'elle ne l'entendit pas.« Mais où peuvent-ils bien être ? » murmura-t-elle, mais lui l'entendit, par contre.Mais il n'en avait pas la réponse.« Le compartiment habituel ? » tenta-t-il, tandis que Lily ouvrait une première porte.Ils vérifièrent ainsi plusieurs compartiments, s'excusant à chaque fois que quelqu'un s'y trouvait – et devant se retenir de s'esclaffer lorsqu'ils trouvaient des personnes dans des situations compromettantes – et croisèrent quelques élèves qui comme eux, devaient rechercher leurs amis déjà installés. Et ce fut ainsi qu'ils croisèrent Rose.La jeune Weasley fusilla aussitôt Scorpius du regard, ce qui n'avait rien d'inhabituel en soi, mais elle resta campée devant eux et leur bloqua ainsi le passage, ce qui l'était, en revanche. Généralement, elle cherchait non pas à l'éviter – le terme était un peu fort – mais à éviter le contact avec lui.Scorpius la regarda d'un air surpris, trop surpris pour espérer quelque chose – et heureusement pour lui qu'il n'espéra rien, car il n'y avait rien à espérer. Ils en furent vite convaincus.« Je suppose que tu es également au courant ? » cracha-t-elle finalement en sa direction, comme si elle l'estimait responsable de la situation qu'elle semblait évoquer, et qu'elle n'approuvait pas du tout.Même Lily fut étonnée de l'agressivité dont elle fit preuve. Pourtant, elle s'était considérablement adoucie envers Scorpius, mais à l'instant, elle semblait être revenue des années en arrière.« De quoi tu parles ? » s'étonna-t-il.« De ton père avec ma mère ! » siffla-t-elle avec dédain, comme si cette situation-même était aberrante et contre-nature.Le visage de Lily se figea en une grimace tandis qu'elle était partagée entre l'agacement et l'exaspération. Ces deux-là n'avaient-ils donc que cela à faire, s'introduire dans la vie privée de leurs parents ? Même si cette situation ne l'étonnait pas outre-mesure elle savait que la rousse n'avait toujours pas digéré le divorce de ses parents, autant dire qu'elle ne devait pas du tout adhérer à l'idée que sa mère puisse se remettre avec quelqu'un d'autre. Et l'identité de cette personne – le père de Scorpius – ne l'aiderait pas à se faire accepter d'elle. Mais vraiment, tous les deux exagéraient.La rouquine reprit rageusement :« Je te préviens : malgré cela, jamais, jamais, je ne pourrais te considérer comme un frère même par alliance, même s'ils venaient à se marier. Tu n'es qu' – »« Eh bien tu vois, on est deux », avoua Scorpius d'une voix douce, l'air attristé. « Et j'espère bien que ce ne sera jamais le cas. »Cela eut le mérite de réduire la jeune fille au silence, et elle le fixa avec effarement, figée. Cela ne dura que quelques secondes, avant que son visage ne se ferme à nouveau.« Bien. Au moins un point sur lequel nous sommes d'accord. »Puis elle n'attendit pas davantage et reprit sa route, s'écartant tout juste pour leur céder le passage.Scorpius n'attendit pas pour en faire de même, et ce fut alors Lily qui suivit le jeune homme.Le reste du trajet se déroula dans un silence pesant entre les deux adolescents, Lily n'osant pas remettre le sujet sur le tapis et étant trop abasourdie pour en trouver un autre, jusqu'à ce qu'enfin, ils trouvent leurs amis plus loin, dans le wagon suivant. Albus les y attendait avec deux autres Serpentards. Les deux nouveaux arrivants s'affalèrent sur les bouts de banquette de libre, avec un soupir soulagé bien audible pour Lily. Cela tira un sourire moqueur à son frère.« C'était si dur que cela de nous trouver ? »Puis il jeta un regard à son meilleur ami, perdu dans ses pensées, et il tourna un regard interrogateur vers sa sœur, qui haussa les épaules.« Rose, comme d'habitude », répondit-elle à sa question muette, sachant que Scorpius ne suivait pas du tout la conversation.Et de toute façon, son amour pour la jeune fille était connu de tous ses amis au moins. D'autres devaient certainement être au courant aussi, vu comme il était peu discret – et certaines de leurs altercations étaient tout simplement mémorables.« Ah ? Elle a encore cherché à l'éviter ? » fit Albus d'un air désolé après un regard compatissant au blond, qui ne réagit pas du tout.Mais encore aurait-il fallu qu'il le perçoive, or il semblait plongé dans son propre monde.Lily secoua négativement la tête avant de répondre :« Non, pas vraiment – et c'est bien le problème. Tu es au courant pour Draco et Hermione ? »xoxoLuna fixa le manège de Lily d'un regard peiné mais ne dit rien, et elle ne fit rien non plus. Pourquoi l'aurait-elle fait, d'ailleurs ? Cela ne l'aurait pas davantage convaincu que les fois précédentes, surtout en présence d'un tel public – Scorpius notamment – et même, cela ne l'aurait que davantage enfoncer. Le duo d'amis disparut rapidement dans le train, et ce fut le cœur serré et désemparée qu'elle se tourna vers ses fils avec un petit sourire. Mais ils ne s'y trompèrent pas, et Lysandre la prit dans ses bras. Après quelques secondes, elle répondit à l'accolade en l'enlaçant à son tour. Puis il lui chuchota à l'oreille :« Je suis désolé, maman. Je sais que tu aurais préféré qu'elle y croie. Nous essaierons de surveiller le Calice », lui promit-il en déposant un baiser sur la joue, et il s'écarta ensuite d'elle, pour laisser Lorcan prendre sa place et faire de même.« A bientôt, maman. »« A bientôt à vous aussi », répondit-elle, la gorge nouée.Ils étaient les seuls à la comprendre un tant soit peu. Mais eux aussi devaient partir.Ils se dirigèrent à leur tour vers le train, et ce ne fut que lorsqu'ils pénétrèrent à l'intérieur qu'elle amorça un mouvement pour partir. Pour s'arrêter aussitôt, tandis que deux silhouettes bien connues venaient à son encontre, une tête rousse et une brune. Les Potter.« Luna ! » s'écria Ginny avec enthousiasme en arrivant à son niveau, suivie de peu par son mari qui arborait une mine plus renfrognée, ce qui étonnait assez Luna – mais sa présence elle-même l'étonnait.Luna les accueillit avec un peu plus de réserve, qu'elle espéra qu'ils mettent sur le compte de son caractère rêveur. Le comportement de Lily la touchait vraiment, et le départ de ses jumeaux n'arrangeait rien. Une fois encore, bien qu'entourée, elle se sentait désespérément seule.« Tu ne travailles pas aujourd'hui ? » demanda-t-elle en direction d'Harry.« Si, mais j'ai pris une pause. Il fallait que je te voie. »« Ah bon ? Pourquoi ? »Elle vit Ginny prendre un air un peu gêné, et Harry se renfrogner davantage, et elle ne comprit ni l'un ni l'autre. Allons bon, qu'avait-elle encore fait ?Cela faisait pourtant un moment qu'elle avait abandonné l'idée de les convaincre au sujet de sa découverte sur les Nargoles. Et elle n'avait rien dit ni fait de particulier durant ces derniers jours, à part cela. De quoi pouvait-il donc être question ?« C'est à propos de tes Nargoles… », démarra Harry d'un ton bourru.Luna le fixa avec curiosité. A le voir, il n'était pas question d'un soudain revirement de son point de vue sur la question – il croyait toujours à une simple création de son esprit un peu dérangé. Mais cela n'expliquait pas pourquoi il remettait cela sur le tapis, après avoir tant cherché à l'éviter dès qu'elle lui en avait parlé la première fois.« Écoute. Nous savons que tu en as parlé à Lily. »Luna se retint de fermer les yeux de dépit. Et voilà, ils y étaient. Ils s'en étaient rendu compte. Comme si cela ne lui suffisait pas elle n'arrivait déjà pas à se faire écouter de la jeune fille, mais avec ses parents défiants sur le dos, ce serait encore plus difficile. Voire quasiment impossible. Qu'avaient-ils pu lui dire ? Rien en sa faveur, pour sûr. Et la situation dans tout cela ? C'était foutu tout était foutu. Lily représentait son unique espoir, et il était en train de partir en fumée. Et elle n'avait rien d'autre, aucune autre alternative.Harry continua d'une voix un peu sèche, indifférent au désespoir qui envahissait son interlocutrice par vagues :« J'avais pourtant pensé que cela aurait fini par te passer mais non. Que tu viennes nous emmerder avec cela, ok mais vouloir à tout prix impliquer ma fille là-dedans, c'est – »« Mais je – », tenta-t-elle de se justifier dans un dernier élan, pour être coupée brutalement par un Harry excédé :« Ça suffit ! C'est une adolescente, une adolescente, et toi tu viens la faire chier avec – »Une main se posa sur son avant-bras, et il arrêta sa vindicte presque rageuse pour se tourner vers sa femme. Le visage calme, elle lui adressa un signe de tête, puis reprit la parole à sa place :« Ce qu'Harry essaie de te dire, c'est que cette histoire ne la concerne pas. Ce n'est qu'une adolescente, avec ses propres problèmes alors s'il te plaît, laisse-la tranquille. »Luna pinça les lèvres et fixa tour à tour les deux époux. Tous deux étaient déterminés, déterminés à la faire plier. Ils ne savaient pas à quel point ils étaient dans l'erreur. Elle seule s'en rendait réellement compte, et en mesurait les conséquences, et c'était triste. Mais elle ne pouvait rien y faire. Alors elle fit la seule chose qu'elle put faire, prendre un air vaincu, tout en sachant qu'elle ne respecterait pas, et qu'elle ne pouvait pas respecter, sa parole.« Je vois. Eh bien, je ne la reverrais plus d'ici là, de toute façon, alors… »Elle détourna ensuite son visage d'eux, blessée malgré tout, et amère. Incomprise. Elle n'était que cela ces dernières semaines. Et cela n'était pas prêt de changer.Harry fronça les sourcils durant quelques secondes avant de prendre un air satisfait, tandis que Ginny acquiesçait en affichant un sourire joyeux et confiant. Ils y croyaient. Bien sûr qu'ils y croyaient, ce n'était pas bien difficile – Lily serait à Poudlard d'ici quelques heures, hors d'atteinte. Mais Luna savait d'ors et déjà qu'il ne lui faudrait pas longtemps pour qu'elle trahisse sa parole.Mais après tout, elle n'avait rien promis, n'est-ce pas ? ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Une journée normale. Une très bonne journée normale, qui démarrait si bien. Rien d'anormal à première vue – sachant que la normalité était différente au sein de l'École vis-à-vis de l'essentiel du reste du monde – ni rien de mauvais – quelque fût le degré. Pas de mauvaises notes susceptibles d'arriver de sitôt – ils n'étaient revenus de vacances que depuis une semaine –, pas de destruction de villes, pas de créatures fantasques sorties tout droit de l'imagination de quelques énergumènes, pas de Sceaux à garder – ou quoi que ce fût d'autre à faire avec… Alors, pourquoi ce mauvais pressentiment ?Lily louchait présentement sur son pudding dégoulinant de sirop, presque comme si elle se demandait ce qu'il fichait là. Sauf qu'elle ne se posait pas la question. En fait, elle ne pensait pas du tout à ce foutu pudding. Juste à cette sensation étrange qui s'insinuait peu à peu en elle, tel un serpent rampant dans un tunnel pour se lover dans son trou – le trou en question étant son cerveau, à l'heure actuelle. Mais pourquoi ? Elle n'avait rien fait, rien lu, rien entendu qui puisse l'expliquer ! Juste cette sensation, apparue comme ça, d'un coup, tandis qu'elle posait ses fesses sur le banc dans la Grande Salle.Et le regard étonné de Scorpius ne l'aidait pas du tout à comprendre.« Ça ne va pas ? »Pourquoi en était-il venu à l'idée qu'elle n'allait pas bien ? C'était une bonne question, dont elle se fichait pas mal de la réponse, en réalité. Au moins s'était-il rendu compte de son soudain changement d'humeur – elle était si enthousiaste, à peine quelques minutes plus tôt. A présent elle était songeuse, et un peu désarçonnée. Et inquiète. Mais de cela, elle n'avait aucune idée du pourquoi.« Ouais. Ouais », fit-elle d'un ton peu convaincu, ce qui ne le convainquit pas du tout.Cependant il n'insista pas, reprenant sa discussion avec Albus qu'il avait interrompu pour se tourner vers elle. Mais parfois, elle sentait quelques regards posés sur elle, qui lui indiquaient qu'il n'avait pas complètement abandonné pour autant. Mais cela ne lui aurait pas servi à grand-chose : elle n'en savait pas plus que lui. A part qu'elle était inquiète.Lily reporta son regard sur son pudding encore intouché et le fixa d'un œil malheureux. Elle n'avait presque rien mangé, mais le stress lui nouait l'estomac, de sorte qu'elle se sentait incapable d'avaler quoique ce fût. Enfin, quoique ce fût de relativement solide, parce qu'elle avait déjà englouti plusieurs verres de jus de citrouille. Pourtant, sa bouche était presque toujours aussi sèche. Un mystère.Abandonnant définitivement l'idée de comprendre, Lily soupira et d'un coup de baguette, transféra son bout de pudding dans une barquette pour la ranger dans son sac. Avec sa diète matinale, elle était sûre de mourir de faim en milieu de matinée, et elle ne souhaitait pas le moins du monde faire une crise d'hypoglycémie en cours. Elle prit également quelques morceaux de pain et une pomme, et fourra le tout au même endroit. Puis décida d'attendre que ses amis terminent – du moins ceux de son année, car ils avaient cours – et se mit à suivre les conversations entre eux malgré que la semaine fût passée, la plupart parlaient encore de leurs vacances et de leurs cadeaux.William était en train de décrire avec enthousiasme ses vacances aux Highlands près du lac du Loch Ness lorsqu'une masse de hiboux émergea pour lâcher diverses lettres, paquets et colis sur les grandes tables. Lily vit tomber un journal ficelé dans son assiette vide, qu'elle saisit. Elle détacha le cordon qui le retenait en un rouleau, le déplia, et jeta un coup d'œil ennuyé sur la première page tandis que le quasi monologue de William se poursuivait sans discontinuer. Une énorme photo faisait la une de la première page mais elle ne s'y attarda pas, balayant juste du regard les gros titres. Elle allait replier le journal dans le but de le lire plus tard, écoutant toujours distraitement son ami, lorsqu'elle sursauta.Elle venait à peine de comprendre le titre de l'article de l'énorme photo, et de reconnaître sur celle-ci son père au Ministère, tandis qu'ils constataient l'absence d'Objets. Elle sentit son sang se glacer, et son inquiétude grandir en elle, tandis qu'elle parcourait les pages pour arriver à celle à laquelle renvoyait la référence. L'article se trouvait en haut de la page, et une autre photo, assez similaire à la première, permettait de le repérer aisément. Ce n'était pas possible. Luna se trompait. Ce sort n'existait pas, les Nargoles n'existaient pas, et des vols, il y en avait presque tous les jours. C'était ridicule.Ses tentatives pour calmer la peur qui grandissait en elle ne l'empêchèrent pas de lire l'article avec empressement. Comme une partie d'elle-même s'y attendait – tout en espérant que ce ne fût pas le cas – ils n'avaient que peu de choses à dire : en effet, il n'y avait aucune trace d'effraction, ni aucune susceptible de les aider à remonter aux responsables, du moins pour l'instant. Ils ne faisaient pas le rapprochement avec les vols de novembre, mais l'article était tout aussi peu fourni qu'à ce moment-là tant le manque cruel de preuves était évident. Seule information connue : la nature des deux Objets volés.Deux. Pas vingt, pas dix, pas trois, seulement deux. L'auteur de l'article s'en étonnait, d'ailleurs, car ces Objets étaient stockés avec d'autres tout aussi, voire plus dangereux, et certains avaient une puissance et une valeur bien supérieures à ces deux-là. Mais seuls ceux-là avaient été dérobés. Et hormis le fait d'être des Objets de magie noire, aucun lien ne semblait les relier.Un mystère.Et l'esprit de Lily ne pouvait s'empêcher de dériver vers cette chère Luna, et vers sa théorie loufoque, qui avait le mérite d'expliquer un aspect de cette affaire. La raison pour laquelle seuls quelques Objets sans lien connu entre eux avaient été volés.C'est ridicule, se morigéna-t-elle en secouant faiblement la tête. D'autres Objets ont été volés au Ministère et au Muséum, pas seulement ceux qu'elle a dit.Oui mais, pourquoi uniquement ces deux-là, maintenant ?susurra une espèce de petite voix insidieuse qui n'arrangeait pas son affaire, avant de donner elle-même un semblant d'élément de réponse plausible : Parce qu'ils… seraient un peu plus pressés, à présent ?Mais pourquoi ? Lily ferma brièvement les yeux. En plus, elle n'était même pas sûre qu'ils fassent parti de ceux qu'avaient indiqués Luna si cela se trouvait, elle était en train de se faire des films pour rien.Mais pour cela, il lui fallait le vérifier. Dans sa chambre, là où se trouvait cette fameuse liste que lui avait fournie Luna, dans un vain espoir de la convaincre. Pourquoi l'avait-elle prise, d'ailleurs ? Elle n'en savait rien, mais elle l'avait déjà aperçue parmi ses affaires au cours de la semaine.Elle se leva brusquement, attirant vers elle les regards surpris de ses amis. Avec cela, elle avait totalement oublié où elle se trouvait et la discussion autour des vacances de William. Si tant est qu'ils en parlaient encore et n'étaient pas passé à autre chose.« Oh, euh, désolée », bredouilla-t-elle en réfléchissant à toute vitesse à quoi faire.Elle jeta un coup d'œil à l'heure elle avait encore une demi-heure avant le début des cours. Si elle partait dès à présent, un crochet au dortoir avant le début du cours était tout à fait faisable.« J'ai… oublié quelque chose dans ma chambre. Je vous rejoins en cours ! »Elle n'attendit pas de réponse, saisit sa baguette, son sac et son journal et partit d'un pas rapide en direction des grandes portes, qu'elle traversa sans ralentir. Le trajet se fit également au pas de course, que Lily passa à combattre son irrésistible crainte et les morceaux de son cerveau qui semblaient voir là la concrétisation des dires de la Dragonneau.Le temps lui parut étrangement long et court à la fois, lorsqu'elle eut atteint les portes de son dortoir. Elle traversa la salle commune en flèche, et se précipita vers sa chambre. En quelques secondes, elle était à genoux devant sa valise, jetant ses vêtements en dehors jusqu'à enfin retrouver le bout de parchemin tant recherché, les mains tremblantes.Je suis ridicule, se dit-elle encore en le dépliant et en le posant sur son tas d'affaires. La liste d'Objets lui fit alors face, et elle prit son journal, pour rechercher une éventuelle concordance. En espérant que cela la conforte dans l'idée qu'elle s'était trompée, que Luna s'était trompée, et qu'elle n'était définitivement qu'une gamine hyper stressée.Elle se figea en retrouvant les deux noms sur la liste. Non. Ce n'était pas possible, c'était juste un hasard. Comme c'était juste un hasard que parmi les Objets listés, il n'en restât plus qu'un, remarqua-t-elle en rayant les deux nouveaux volés.Elle regarda plus précisément la ligne concernant l'Objet restant, et sursauta lorsqu'elle en aperçut la localisation. La Salle sur Demande ! L'Objet était ici, à Poudlard !Elle jeta un coup d'œil à l'horloge, qui l'informa qu'il était l'heure de bouger rapidement ses fesses si elle ne voulait pas arriver en retard. Elle remit toutes ses affaires en vrac dans sa valise, conservant uniquement le parchemin qu'elle mit dans la poche de sa robe, et la referma d'un sort. Elle se leva et se précipita dehors, pour courir en direction de la salle de cours. Mais son esprit était loin des cours, eux. Et inlassablement, ils revenaient vers les Objets, vers Luna, et vers la Salle sur Demande qui contiendrait le Calice.Mais tout cela n'était que pur hasard, n'est-ce pas ?xoxoLuna rabattit les feuilles du journal sur la table en fermant les yeux de dépit. La voix de Ginny bourdonnait près d'elle, mais elle avait l'impression d'être hors du temps. La Statuette et le Cierge de Pierre avaient été volés, il ne restait plus dès lors que le Calice. Les Objets étaient presque réunis. Il n'en manquait plus qu'un seul.La seule chose qui la consolait un tant soit peu était la localisation de cet Objet. Poudlard était loin d'être facile d'accès, et la Salle sur Demande encore moins. Mais les Nargoles étaient loin d'être stupides, savaient déjà comment pénétrer dans son enceinte, et personne ne croyait en leur existence, ce qui facilitait grandement leurs efforts. Car il n'y avait personne face à eux pour les empêcher d'atteindre le Calice une fois qu'ils l'auraient trouvé, ils le prendraient, et ils l'auraient. Après tout, ses fils ne pouvaient rien y faire, ils ne pouvaient y rester tout le temps il suffisait donc aux Nargoles de passer lorsque les jumeaux avaient cours, par exemple. Facile. Et même présents, elle n'était pas sûre que cela aurait changé grand-chose. Ou du moins, pour le Calice. Mais pour ses fils ? Seraient-ils capables de s'en prendre à ses fils ? Cette simple perspective la glaça d'effroi.« C'est à peine croyable ! Encore des vols ! » s'exclama Ginny après avoir saisi le journal tombé des mains de Luna – elle ne s'était même pas rendue compte de l'avoir lâché.Ginny plissa les yeux en lisant plus attentivement l'article en question, avant d'hoqueter de surprise.« Mais… ces Objets ! Ce n'est… N'en avais-tu pas parlé à un moment ? »« Si », confirma Luna en lui jetant un regard hésitant entre l'espoir et la résignation et en se forçant à se détendre. Quand j'ai – »« Oui », l'interrompit la rouquine en hochant la tête, le regard toujours rivé vers les pages face à elle. « Les Nargoles. Mais ça ne prouve rien, tu sais », continua-t-elle en tournant son regard vers son amie.Luna soupira. La résignation avait totalement balayé la faible lueur d'espoir qui s'était allumée en elle. Ils n'y croiraient jamais. Ils ne voulaient pas y croire. Comment faire, sinon les mettre devant le fait accompli ? Les Nargoles ne devraient plus trop tarder à le faire. Mais alors, il serait certainement déjà trop tard.« Et pourquoi cela te semble si impossible à croire ? » rétorqua Luna d'une voix lasse. « Vous n'avez même pas un soupçon d'hypothèse pour expliquer ces vols. »Elle ne cherchait même plus à la convaincre, à ce stade-là – elle n'y croyait même plus – juste à tenter de comprendre ce qui pouvait bien bloquer dans leur esprit.« Tes Nargoles, Luna. Ils n'existent pas. »« Donc, si j'avais dit que c'étaient des Gobelins, j'aurais été plus crédible ? »« Oui », affirma Ginny.Luna sentit ses épaules s'affaisser, et la lassitude l'envahir encore plus.« Et donc, pourquoi vous ne me croyez pas plus pour ce qui est de la destruction de la ville ? Que les responsables soient des Nargoles ou des Gobelins, cela revient un peu au même ! »« Comment veux-tu que nous y croyons ? Tu parles de créatures imaginaires s'apprêtant à lancer un sort imaginaire pour détruire toute une ville dans un but inconnu – parce que oui, dans l'hypothèse où j'y croirais, il m'échappe toujours. J'avoue que les ressemblances avec certains de tes dires sont troublantes, Luna, mais ton histoire n'est vraiment pas crédible ! D'où sors-tu de telles informations, d'ailleurs ? »Luna soupira. Était-il vraiment utile de répondre ? Elle savait bien que non. A part renforcer le scepticisme de son amie.xoxo« Ton soudain enthousiasme pour cette Salle est un peu louche », fit remarquer Albus en jetant un coup d'œil amusé à sa sœur, avant de partager un regard entendu avec Scorpius.Cette dernière poussa un soupir théâtral en prenant un air grandiloquent, un sourcil haussé en direction du brun.« Il n'est pas soudain, je vous demande juste de me la montrer seulement maintenant, nuance. »Elle avait omis de mentionner la raison exacte de cet 'enthousiasme', en vérité. Mais après tout, elle n'avait pu en parler à Scorpius seul à seul. Ç'aurait peut-être été l'occasion d'en parler à Albus, pourtant les choses auraient ainsi été bien plus simples. Mais le fait qu'il fût son frère la bloquait après tout, il pouvait tout répéter à son père derrière son dos, et elle n'en avait pas envie. Même si, connaissant Albus, il y avait peu de chance que ce fût le cas il y avait beaucoup de choses qu'il taisait à leur père.« Ce doit être ça », ironisa ce dernier, pas dupe, mais son air jovial démentait un quelconque ressentiment à son égard.Albus était loin d'être stupide, et avait dû deviner qu'une histoire se tramait entre elle et Scorpius. Mais il ne cherchait visiblement pas à investiguer là-dessus. Peut-être attendait-il qu'ils lui en parlent d'eux-mêmes. Ou peut-être s'en fichait-il juste.Ils obliquèrent dans un couloir qui ressemblait tant aux autres, et les deux jeunes hommes s'y arrêtèrent. Lily, qui ne s'y attendait pas, fit quelques pas supplémentaires et inutiles, et dut revenir sur ses pas pour les regarder faire plusieurs allers-retours devant un pan de mur après avoir vérifié l'absence de gens aux alentours.« Mais qu'est-ce que vous faites ? » demanda-t-elle, surprise.Elle fut rassurée au sujet de leur santé mentale lorsqu'une porte se dessina sur le mur. Ils la poussèrent pour entrer, et elle s'empressa de les suivre. Pour se retrouver dans une pièce étrange dont elle n'aurait pas soupçonné l'existence à cet endroit.Il s'agissait d'une grande salle aux dimensions impressionnantes plongée dans la pénombre, puis dans les ténèbres lorsque la porte se referma derrière eux. Un Lumos lui permit d'admirer un peu plus cette salle qu'elle apercevait pour la première fois.Elle savait, de par les nombreuses descriptions qu'en avaient faites les deux compères près d'elle lors des divers récits de leurs 'aventures', que la Salle était très polymorphe, et qu'elle prenait la forme que désirait la personne, ou du moins qu'elle s'efforçait de fournir ce dont cette dernière avait besoin. Elle ne savait pas exactement qui avait pensé à quoi, mais à l'heure actuelle, la Salle ressemblait à un énorme débarras.De multiples objets de natures diverses et variées s'empilaient les uns sur les autres, et dégageaient des allées entre eux où eux-mêmes pouvaient circuler. Lily se mordit la lèvre. Elle allait s'amuser à retrouver le Calice dans tout ça, surtout qu'il lui semblait qu'il n'était pas bien grand.« Voici la Salle sur Demande ! » s'exclama alors pompeusement Scorpius, en désignant les immenses tas d'objets devant lui avec un grand geste de bras. « Vois ce que tu as manqué tout ce temps ! »Lily leva des yeux amusés en réponse. Elle n'était pas aussi aventurière que ses deux compagnons, voilà tout. Mais elle répliqua gentiment avec un sourire narquois :« Une séance de rangement et de ménage ? »Elle entendit deux reniflements dédaigneux à sa proposition, et devina plus qu'elle ne vit leurs roulements d'yeux respectifs.« Tant de déni… et dire que c'est ma sœur », soupira Albus en adoptant un visage résigné et torturé et en secouant la tête.« Pauvre de toi », se moqua Lily, puis elle reporta son attention vers les monticules face à elle.Il y eut quelques secondes de flottement, puis Scorpius rompit le silence que Lily semblait vouloir laisser s'installer entre eux :« Et donc ? Satisfaite ? On fait quoi maintenant ? »« Mm ? Euh… »Pourtant, il s'agissait juste de vérifier si le Calice était vraiment là, et un simple Accio devrait suffire. Enfin, vraiment ?« Dites, les sorts fonctionnent, ici ? »« Oui, pourquoi ? » s'étonna Albus.« Et les Accio ? Rien pour les bloquer ? »« Tu recherches quelque chose ? »« Bah… »Un air de compréhension se répandit soudain sur le visage de l'héritier Malefoy, avant qu'il ne réponde :« Normalement, oui, enfin je suppose. Nous ne l'avons pas souvent utilisé, mais quand c'était le cas, ça fonctionnait. »Albus acquiesça pour appuyer les dires de son ami. Lily saisit aussitôt sa baguette. Tant pis pour Albus, il n'aurait qu'à s'interroger sur sa soudaine lubie, s'il le souhaitait. Ce n'était qu'une vérification de toute manière, rien de bien méchant, et pas de quoi en faire toute une histoire. Elle n'allait pas ruser avec des techniques de Sioux juste pour cela.« Accio Calice ! »Elle y pensa la seconde suivante, mais évidemment, comme elle ne connaissait pas l'objet et qu'elle n'avait qu'une vague idée de son aspect – dont il lui fallait vérifier la concordance avec celui auquel elle pensait – forcément, le sort ne pouvait pas savoir à sa place, d'où la petite ligne de calices qui vint à leur rencontre en cliquetant. Les trois adolescents grimacèrent à la fanfare occasionnée, jusqu'à ce qu'ils se déposent à leurs pieds. Ce qui fut relativement rapide, heureusement.« Tu trouves que les verres de la Grande Salle sont trop moches et voulait en changer ? » fit Albus, amusé, en saisissant un gros calice doré au pied richement sculpté et très lourd.Scorpius, lui, se contenta de lui jeter un regard désabusé, que Lily préféra ignorer en baissant les yeux vers les cinq calices encore à terre. Elle devinait ce qu'il pensait : c'était comme si elle voulait donner du crédit aux paroles de Luna. Mais ce n'était pas vrai. C'était juste qu'il lui fallait vérifier, parce qu'elle en avait besoin à l'heure actuelle.Tandis qu'Albus admirait toujours son calice et les reflets métalliques qui jouaient à sa surface là où éclairait le sort du blond, Lily sortit le parchemin de sa poche et le déplia.« C'est de Luna ? » ne put s'empêcher de demander Scorpius d'un ton un peu réprobateur, et qui laissait bien entendre que ce n'était pas réellement une question.Cela attira l'attention d'Albus, qui leur jeta un regard rempli de curiosité.« Luna ? Luna Dragonneau ? Mais qu'a-t-elle à voir avec des calices ? »« Pas des calices. Un Calice », corrigea Scorpius, tout en continuant de fixer la jeune fille.Lily se mordit la lèvre, gênée, avant de finalement hausser les épaules. Tant pis, Albus saurait. De toute façon, il y avait peu de chances qu'il en parle à leur père.« Oui », répondit-elle pour Scorpius, et avant qu'elle ne put expliquer à son frère, Scorpius décida de s'en charger à sa façon :« Luna a décrété que les vols au Ministère – ceux d'hier et ceux de novembre – et au Muséum étaient liés, qu'en fait c'étaient les Nargoles qui souhaitent réunir des Objets dans le but de lancer un sort pour détruire Londres. »Albus siffla à l'explication, avant de sourire d'un air moqueur.« Ah oui quand même. Et tu y crois ? » fit-il à sa sœur, mais elle secoua la tête avec vigueur.« Non ! C'est juste que… c'est perturbant, voilà ! Elle m'a fourni la liste de ces fameux Objets durant les vacances, et – »« C'est ton parchemin ? » fit Scorpius en baissant son regard vers ce dernier.« Oui ! »« Je peux ? »Lily relâcha la pression de ses doigts, et Scorpius put ainsi se saisir de la feuille. Il la plaça de sorte à ce que les trois adolescents purent en voir le contenu, et braqua sa baguette devant elle pour l'éclairer.« Pourquoi ils sont presque tous raturés ? » demanda Albus.« Parce qu'ils ont déjà été volés », répondit Lily, et ses mots furent suivis par un silence estomaqué et perturbé.Après tout, un seul objet ne l'était pas, en fait.« C'est… », commença le brun, avant que le blond ne l'interrompe :« Ça ne prouve rien du tout, c'est du pur hasard ! Il y a eu d'autres objets de volés, en plus ! Et puis, d'où sort-elle cette liste ? »Lily haussa les épaules.« Je te l'ai dit, elle a dit que c'est pour le sort. Elle le sort certainement d'un bouquin qui l'évoque. »« Mais tu n'y crois pas, pas vrai ? » s'inquiéta presque le Malefoy, ce qu'elle jugea ridicule et agaçant.« Je n'ai jamais dit que c'était le cas ! » s'exaspéra Lily.« Oh, et le Calice est supposé être ici ? Il n'y a plus qu'à vérifier ! » s'écria Albus avec enthousiasme.Scorpius secoua la tête, atterré, et regarda son meilleur ami avec désespoir. En réponse, Albus ne lui adressa qu'un sourire rayonnant et un regard pétillant. Mais le blond était loin de partager son entrain, et Albus finit par lever les yeux vers le plafond – qui demeurait invisible à leurs yeux, par ailleurs, car plongé dans l'obscurité du fait du faible rayon d'action du sort de lumière.« Oh, Scorp', fais pas ta mauvaise tête ! C'est plutôt drôle, en fait ! Vois ça comme une sorte d'aventure ! »Scorpius émit un hoquet incrédule. Là-dessus, Lily partageait parfaitement son point de vue, et fixait son frère avec effarement. Quelle que fût la façon dont on prenait la situation, qu'on y crût ou non, elle n'avait strictement rien de comique.« Une aventure ? Comment veux-tu – »« Ah, tais-toi, et regardons ! » le coupa Albus en se baissant pour saisir le premier calice à portée de ses mains – celui qu'il avait précédemment tenu avait été écarté d'un signe de tête de la jeune fille.Tous comparèrent l'objet avec l'image dessinée sur le parchemin, et secouèrent la tête. Les gravures ne correspondaient pas, et le pied était trop épais. Ils n'eurent ainsi même pas besoin de vérifier les inscriptions qui permettraient d'identifier définitivement le Calice qu'ils recherchaient.« Ok, recalé, au suivant ! » fit Albus en le reposant pour saisir le deuxième.Scorpius eut un ricanement sceptique, mais ils continuèrent, jusqu'au quatrième, qui correspondait en tous points. Et, malheureusement pour Scorpius, l'inscription y était également.« C'est le Calice ! » s'exclama-t-il sous l'étonnement en continuant de le scruter, comme si les inscriptions allaient disparaître et lui confirmer qu'ils n'avaient fait qu'halluciner.Ce ne fut pas le cas.« Bon, bah il y est ! » s'écria Albus, avant de demander : « Et on fait quoi, maintenant ? On l'embarque ? »« Pourquoi faire ? Ne me dis pas que tu crois à ces conneries ! » râla Scorpius en roulant des yeux.« Je n'ai – »« Ce n'est pas la peine », répondit Lily en reposant le Calice. « Ça ne servirait à rien, et il y aurait trop de risques que quelqu'un s'en empare dans nos affaires. Il est plus sûr de le laisser ici. »« Parce que tu y crois, finalement ? » s'écria le blond en lui jetant un regard effaré.Lily souffla, exaspérée. Par Merlin, n'avait-il que ça en tête ?« Non », répondit-elle, excédée. « Pourquoi, à chaque mot que j'énonce, tu te mets à penser ainsi ? »« Parce que tu agis comme si c'était le cas ! » répliqua-t-il aussitôt, et Lily secoua la tête pour nier.« Eh bien ce n'est pas le cas ! » affirma-t-elle d'une voix ferme, en agitant sa baguette en direction des cinq calices anonymes.Ces derniers s'envolèrent pour retourner bruyamment à leur position initiale.« Pourquoi tu n'as pas aussi renvoyé celui-là, si on ne le prend pas ? » fit remarquer innocemment son frère, le sourcil haussé.Lily ne sut que répondre, et finit par lui appliquer le même sort qu'aux autres. Il emprunta le même trajet que ces derniers et disparut rapidement de leur vue.« Bien, je suppose que cette histoire est réglée ? » fit Scorpius en tendant le parchemin à la jeune fille, qui le remit dans sa poche. « On y va ? »« Oui. »Les deux jeunes hommes ne surent pas vraiment si cette réponse valait pour les deux questions.Et à vrai dire, Lily non plus.xoxoA peine sortie du large bâtiment, une silhouette se jeta aussitôt sur elle, la faisant tituber. Automatiquement, Luna resserra ses bras autour d'elle, tandis que des bras semblaient s'évertuer à l'étrangler, même si elle se doutait que ce n'était pas le but. Les cheveux couleur de feu lui firent suspecter très fortement l'identité de cette personne. Puis la masse s'écarta d'elle, et elle put à nouveau respirer. Elle souffla de soulagement, et leva les yeux vers elle. Ginny. Derrière elle se tenait Harry, qui lui souriait doucement, comme compatissant face à l'empressement de sa femme.« Oh, Luna, comme j'ai eu si peur ! Quand j'ai appris la nouvelle, j'ai-je… Merlin soit loué, tu es saine et sauve ! »Ginny serra les mains de son amie de manière impulsive. Luna lui sourit pour la rassurer.« Je vais bien, je n'ai rien. Enfin, pas grand-chose. Juste quelques égratignures. M'envoyer à Sainte Mangouste était un peu exagéré, ils viennent tout juste de me libérer. »Après une multitude d'examens en tous genres tous plus inutiles les uns que les autres, d'après elle. Mais après tout, lorsqu'elle avait expliqué ce qu'il s'était passé, les médicomages avaient refusé de la croire. Comme d'habitude, et comme tout le monde.« Que s'est-il passé ? » la pressa la rouquine inquiète. « As-tu pu voir ton agresseur ? »« Non, je-enfin… »Évidemment, elle non plus n'allait pas la croire. Mais que dire d'autre ? Mentir pour la rassurer ? Ce n'était pas son genre. Et puis, elle ne voulait pas les conduire sur une fausse piste, et risquer que quelqu'un soit écroué à cause de son faux témoignage. Ils ne seraient juste pas du tout avancés, ce serait tout – et ce serait de leur faute.Elle soupira. Tant pis, sa résolution était finalement prise – elle avait pas mal tergiversé durant ces maudits examens d'ailleurs, mais elle n'avait eu que cela à faire ces dernières heures. De toute façon, les enquêteurs et Harry questionneraient sûrement les médicomages en charge de son dossier – étoffé par de nombreuses analyses superflues – et connaîtraient la version qu'elle leur avait fournie. Pourquoi retarder l'échéance ? Ils avaient déjà connaissance de sa prétendue excentricité, de toute façon.Les Potter ne comprirent pas la signification de ce soupir, et la jaugèrent d'un air inquiet. Finalement, elle se lança dans le bref récit de sa mésaventure :« Je suis sortie de chez moi pour me rendre à la Bibliothèque, prendre quelques ouvrages pour mon mémoire », expliqua-t-elle. « Comme il faisait beau, je suis passée par le parc. Puis… cela s'est passé très vite, je n'ai rien vu venir. J'ai senti des coups, puis que l'on s'acharnait à me faire tomber, mais j'ai pu attraper ma baguette et lancer un Expelliarmus autour de moi. Je suis malgré tout tombée, et j'ai encore reçu des coups, et… c'était assez confus, j'ai jeté plusieurs sorts – mais je n'ai vu personne dans le parc, et… Et puis… je ne sais pas, je crois qu'ils sont finalement partis, lorsque Rolf est arrivé en courant. En tout cas les coups ont aussitôt cessé. »« Qu'ils sont partis ? » répéta Harry, notant l'utilisation du pluriel. « Comment sais-tu qu'ils étaient plusieurs, si tu n'as rien vu ? Tu les as entendus parler ? »Elle devinait également, à la tête qu'il faisait, que Rolf aurait aussi droit à un interrogatoire. Pourtant, il ne pourrait rien ajouter de probant : il avait accouru vers elle, l'air inquiet, l'avait relevé, et lui avait aussitôt demandé ce qu'il s'était passé. Il l'avait vu tomber de loin, puis l'avait vu agiter sa baguette à plusieurs reprises, et l'avait retrouvée recouverte d'égratignures, de trop d'égratignures pour qu'elles puissent s'expliquer uniquement par sa chute, mais il n'avait vu personne. Tant et si bien qu'il en était venu à douter de ce qu'il avait vu, à se repasser les événements dans sa tête sans jamais trouver aucun élément de réponse, et lorsqu'elle lui avait dit que c'étaient les Nargoles, il n'avait même pas réagi, ni cherché à la démentir. Il l'avait juste fixée d'un regard choqué.« Non, je… je les ai sentis. C'étaient les Nargoles. »A leur tête, sa supposition se confirma. Ils ne la croyaient pas. Ils semblaient partagés entre l'agacement et la résignation. Finalement, Ginny hocha juste la tête, avec un sourire un peu forcé.« Ok. Ok », s'efforça-t-elle de dire, hésitante. « Bien… tu as remarqué autre chose ? »Luna comprit qu'ils avaient mis la prétendue absurdité de ses propos sur le compte du choc, mais elle n'était pas le moins du monde choquée par ce qui lui était arrivé. Rolf l'était. Mais elle-même avait déjà vécu bien pire.Elle finit par secouer négativement la tête en réponse, et les Potter poussèrent un soupir déçu. Évidemment, s'ils ne voulaient pas croire ce qu'elle disait, et qu'ils préféraient considérer qu'elle ne faisait que sur-interpréter les événements en fonction de ses folies du moment, ils partaient donc du principe qu'ils ne savaient rien.« Je suis désolée », s'excusa-t-elle tout de même, mais ses amis l'assurèrent que ce n'était rien.« C'est dommage, ça ne nous facilite pas la tâche », bougonna tout de même Harry, et Ginny lui lança un regard réprobateur.« Ce n'est pas de sa faute », râla-t-elle avant de tourner son visage vers Luna. « Ne t'inquiète pas, ils trouveront qui t'a fait cela et pourquoi. »Luna hocha silencieusement la tête comme pour la remercier, dépitée. Elle savait déjà ce qu'il s'était passé. Ce qu'elle souhaitait surtout savoir, c'était pourquoi – mais Harry et ses Aurors seraient bien incapables de répondre à cette question, de toute manière, quoiqu'ils en pensent. D'autant plus que cette attaque lui avait semblé plus dissuasive qu'autre chose, que dans un réel but de lui nuire – s'ils avaient voulu la tuer, ils auraient bien plus insisté, malgré l'arrivée de son mari. Après tout, elle ne voyait pas en quoi elle représentait une menace – Lily n'était pas prête d'accepter, pas davantage que précédemment ! Mais peut-être cela avait-il un lien avec ses recherches sur les Sceaux – elle avait contacté la veille l'université magique de Singapour, qui comprenait une unité étudiant plus spécifiquement les objets comportant des sceaux. C'était bien la seule chose qui lui venait à l'esprit qui fût suffisamment plausible pour l'expliquer.Elle resserra sa prise sur son sac à main, mal à l'aise.« Écoutez, euh… je crois que je vais rentrer chez moi. »« Mais, et Rolf ? Il n'était pas avec toi ? »Luna secoua la tête face à leurs mines étonnées.« Si, si, il doit être en train de s'occuper des formalités de départ, mais il doit ensuite retourner expressément au Muséum, et je suis fatiguée… »Et ce n'était en rien un mensonge. Elle se sentait lessivée, et ne rêvait que de son matelas. Tout en priant pour que les Nargoles n'envahissent pas ses songes.« Je t'accompagne ! » affirma aussitôt Ginny en se tournant vers son mari, qui hocha juste la tête pour lui signifier que ce n'était pas son cas – il devait retourner au Bureau.Luna acquiesça faiblement. Si cela pouvait la rassurer…xoxo« Luna s'est faite agressée ! » s'écria Lily en débarquant telle une furie dans la salle commune, une lettre à la main, pour se jeter droit vers Scorpius qui la regarda arriver avec de grands yeux effarés.« D'où tu sors ça ? » demanda-t-il tandis qu'elle se tenait près de lui, posant ses fesses sur l'accoudoir de son fauteuil. « Parce que franchement, qui voudrait l'agresser, elle ? »« De mon père ! » assura-t-elle en agitant la lettre sous le nez du Malefoy, qui roula des yeux face à son geste – après tout, il n'en apercevait aucunement le contenu. « Et ils ne savent pas qui cela peut bien être ! »« Les Nargoles ? » ricana-t-il, mais cela ne fit pas rire du tout la jeune fille, qui le fixa d'un air sérieux.Ce qui inquiéta quelque peu le jeune homme, dont les rires se turent bien vite.« Je n'en sais rien », fit-elle avant de se relever subitement. « Mais ce n'est pas normal. »Et cela la troublait au plus haut point, bien plus qu'elle n'aurait pu l'imaginer. Cela faisait déjà quatre jours depuis les derniers vols, et l'inquiétude ne cessait de la tarauder, malgré qu'il ne se fût rien passé depuis. Elle le savait, car elle s'était mise à roder autour de la Salle sur Demande, et dedans, pour vérifier que l'Objet s'y trouvait toujours. Elle avait parfois croisé les jumeaux de Luna, mais elle ne s'était même pas posé la question de leur présence, et s'était contentée de remiser ce constat dans un coin reculé de son esprit.Mais elle n'était pas rassurée, tout était suspect, cette situation la stressait, ces vols qui concordaient étrangement avec la liste de Luna, et puis, ces événements étranges qui se déroulaient au sein de l'École depuis trois jours… Des choses sans grande importance ni gravité, mais que personne ne comprenait, et bien sûr, la pensée des Nargoles n'avait de cesse de la tarauder. C'était ridicule, pourtant ! Mais… et si Luna avait raison ? Cela faisait quelques temps déjà qu'elle se posait parfois la question, mais elle l'avait sans cesse écartée. Malgré cela, elle ne cessait de revenir, de plus en plus insistante, de plus en plus fréquemment, et elle l'enfonçait davantage dans le doute et le désarroi, de telle sorte qu'elle était désormais incapable de démêler le vrai du faux, des propos de Luna, de Scorpius, de ses parents... Et elle ne pouvait empêcher cette vague d'anxiété grandir en elle, ce pressentiment, comme si une catastrophe approchait.Imminente.« Il faut que j'y retourne ! » s'exclama-t-elle en bondissant sur ses pieds.« Quoi ? » s'écria Scorpius en se levant. « Encore ? Mais-mais… ça en devient maladif ! »Il ne put protester davantage, car une fusée passa devant ses yeux pour se précipiter vers la sortie, et il la suivit, désappointé. Cette situation dépassait tout simplement l'entendement.Les couloirs étaient vides, à cette heure, et heureusement, car l'état de Lily ne lui permit pas de vérifier qu'il n'y avait personne lorsqu'elle fit les cent pas devant le pan de mur pour accéder à la Salle sur Demande. Elle se jeta à l'intérieur rapidement suivie par son ami, qui leva sa baguette pour refermer la porte derrière eux. Lily, elle, s'était déjà avancée de quelques pas, et la première chose qu'elle fit fut de faire apparaître le Calice à leurs pieds. Mais cela la rassura à peine. La sensation était toujours présente, et même plus vivace que jamais.« Bien ! Satisfaite ? » s'écria Scorpius, mécontent de cette course-surprise dans les couloirs en plein dimanche – et pas pour quelque chose d'intérêt, il ne fallait pas exagérer. « Dis, ce manège va durer encore combien de temps ? »Il saisit le Calice qu'il reposa violemment sur un meuble à quelques pas d'eux, faisant vibrer le bois en réponse. Lily ne bougea pas, et le regarda juste faire avec de grands yeux, figée, glacée. Pourtant, la situation était tout aussi normale qu'à l'habitude.Scorpius se plaça ensuite entre elle et le Calice, mais il demeurait toujours dans son champ de vision – et demeurait parfaitement immobile. Le blond secoua la tête, désabusé.« Tu te rends compte que cette situation est ridicule, n'est-ce pas ? »Lily grimaça. Le pire était qu'elle en avait parfaitement conscience, et qu'elle ne cessait de se morigéner pour cela. Mais la partie stressée de son cerveau, qui ne cessait de s'agrandir, ne voulait rien entendre, et avait pris possession de ses moyens.« Et tu prétends encore ne pas croire aux divagations de Luna ? »« Cela n'a rien à voir ! » nia Lily, bien qu'elle eût l'impression de se mentir en partie à elle-même.Après tout, pourquoi ses paroles la hantaient-elles de plus en plus, semblant prendre un éclairage nouveau à ses yeux ? Mais Scorpius avait raison, c'était ridicule, toute cette situation était ridicule, et l'agression de Luna n'y changeait rien. Ce n'était qu'un pur hasard, cela n'avait rien à voir avec les vols. C'était si facile de se faire agresser, à leur époque.Scorpius leva les bras de manière théâtral, se tenant toujours près du meuble et du Calice. Lily se tendit aussitôt, les yeux écarquillés tournés vers le Calice, comme si la catastrophe tant crainte était sur le point de se produire.… Mais après quelques secondes de silence tendu et d'ambiance pesante, il ne se produisit toujours rien. Elle se sentit aussitôt ridicule, tandis que Scorpius baissait les bras, d'un air entendu.Mais étrangement, Lily continua de songer que c'était une bien mauvaise idée de se tenir si près de l'Objet, et qu'il devait s'en écarter. Elle amorça un geste en sa direction pour l'enjoindre à le faire, lorsqu'il s'exclama :« Tu vois ? Il ne se passe rien, et il ne se passera rien ! Alors ? Cela va durer encore combien de temps ? Jusqu'à son hypothétique vol ? »Il ricana quelques secondes tandis qu'elle louchait sur le Calice. Elle avait cru le voir frissonner, mais ce n'était pas possible. Il reprit d'un ton moqueur mais pas méchant :« Tu sais, tu devrais rester en permanence ici pour cela ! Et tu risques d'y rester jusqu'aux prochaines vacances ! »Puis un léger bruit de bois le fit se retourner, attirant leurs regards sur le Calice. Qui bascula légèrement de sa position. Scorpius saisit aussitôt sa baguette et la leva en sa direction en tendant la main vers le Calice, certainement dans l'intention de faire cesser ses agitations inexpliquées – il devait penser que c'était juste l'Objet.« Que – »Ils ne virent rien venir. En vérité, ils ne virent pas grand-chose. Juste, Lily saisit sa baguette à son tour, mais trop tard. Quoique ce fût, cela réagit. Quelque chose explosa, une détonation retentit, et tout fut baigné de lumière, et ses yeux furent éblouis. Un souffle chaud et quelques esquilles se firent sentir sur ses joues, mais la douleur fut reléguée au second plan lorsqu'elle reconnut le cri qui fut poussé.« SCORPIUS ! » ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Contrairement à ses parents, Lily ne s'était pas souvent rendue dans cette salle. Après tout, elle n'avait jamais eu beaucoup de prétextes pour y aller, et elle n'en était pas mécontente. Dans tous les cas, elle se serait très bien passée de cette visite-ci. Voir son ami dans cet état lui serrait le cœur, et une boule de culpabilité lui enserrait la gorge alors qu'elle songeait que c'était en partie sa faute. Il s'était retrouvé là à cause d'elle, d'une part parce que c'était elle qui les avait menés dans la Salle sur Demande, devant le Calice, d'autre part parce qu'elle n'avait jamais voulu considérer un tant soit peu les paroles de Luna. Et voilà le résultat à présent.Le visage déjà naturellement pâle du jeune Malefoy était carrément livide, et marqué de nombreuses contusions. Et on devinait à peine le reste de ses blessures, camouflées par de nombreux bandages et des plâtres. Seule leur étendue était estimable : tout son corps était touché. Mais vu sa proximité avec l'explosion, ce n'était pas une surprise en vérité, sa survie en était une.En pensant à cela une fois encore, Lily sentait les larmes lui piquer les yeux, et elle ne chercha ni à les dissimuler, ni à les arrêter. Qu'elles tombent, après tout son ami était gravement blessé, inconscient, les membres fracturés et de nombreuses brûlures parcouraient son corps, à cause d'elle. C'était lui qui avait eu la mauvaise idée de se placer aussi près de l'Objet, essayant de la convaincre que sa défiance était inutile. Mais c'était de sa faute à elle s'il avait eu cette idée malencontreuse.Elle leva une main tremblotante pour la poser sur la joue de son ami, tandis qu'une larme s'échappa finalement de son œil et glissa sur sa joue.« Je suis désolée. Tellement désolée… »Elle commença à effleurer la peau de son ami du bout des doigts, jusqu'à buter contre les bandages. Elle n'osa pas aller plus loin, et sentit juste sa mâchoire se contracter.« Tu sais, je… ça ne peut plus continuer comme cela », finit-elle par avouer.A partir de ce moment-là, elle décida de dire tout ce qu'elle avait sur le cœur, dans l'espoir de se décharger quelque peu de ce poids qui lui pesait sur le cœur et de pouvoir faire le tri dans ses pensées. Car jusqu'à présent, elle avait été sûre de ce qu'elle pensait, mais plus maintenant. Plus depuis quelques temps, déjà, mais surtout plus après ça.« Il… Il se passe trop de choses étranges, Scorp'. Je ne peux pas rester sans rien faire, continua-t-elle après avoir marqué un temps d'hésitation. Quelque chose ne va définitivement pas, et ça ne peut pas s'expliquer juste par des vols de quelques cinglés ou autre chose. Il… il n'y avait personne ! Et… tout va dans le sens des paroles de Luna, tout ce qui s'est passé, les Objets volés ! »Certainement qu'à ce moment-là, Scorpius aurait réagi, devinant la suite de ses paroles. Mais il ne le pouvait pas et ne le fit pas, et Lily pinça des lèvres face à ce constat. Elle aurait tellement préféré que ce fût le cas.« Que ce soit les Nargoles ou autre chose, qu'importe. Tout ce qu'a prévu Luna s'est finalement produit, alors… Je vais aller lui parler. Elle sait des choses, je ne sais pas comment, et elle seule semble pouvoir m'aider à y voir plus clair. Je… je n'irai pas jusqu'à dire que je crois désormais aux Nargoles ou aux Gardiens de Sceaux, mais… on verra. Peut-être a-t-elle raison, peut-être a-t-elle tort. Mais finalement, je n'ai rien à perdre à l'écouter. Il me suffira ensuite de… trier les informations. Enfin… même si… »Elle vit du coin de l'œil une silhouette approcher, et se redressa. Elle ne souhaitait pas que quelqu'un entende ses confessions, ayant encore un peu de mal à assumer l'idée qu'elle commençait à prendre au sérieux les paroles de Luna. Et puis de toute façon, il lui fallait trouver un moyen de la contacter. Elle reconnut la tignasse brune de son frère tandis qu'il se rapprochait d'eux. Elle se raidit.« A plus tard », chuchota-t-elle alors au corps de son ami, et après avoir retiré une mèche de cheveux qui lui couvrait l'œil, elle recula et commença à partir.« Lily… », commença Albus avec un regard désolé, mais Lily détourna le sien, et continua de s'éloigner.« Ce n'est pas de ta faute, tu sais », entendit-elle dans son dos, et elle se mordit la lèvre pour retenir un sanglot.Elle ne se retourna pas non plus à ces mots, et accéléra le pas pour rejoindre la porte. Jusqu'à ce qu'elle sorte, elle sentit le poids du regard de son frère sur elle. Elle savait que c'était vrai, qu'elle aurait été loin de se douter de ce qui était sur le point de se produire, et ce même si elle avait cru aux paroles de Luna dès le début. Pourtant, elle se sentait quand même responsable, et elle n'arrivait pas à se départir de ce sentiment. Elle ne parvenait pas non plus à se pardonner. Pas encore.xoxo« Lysandre… », interpella Lily d'une voix faible le jeune homme qui se tenait à quelques pas devant elle.Le couloir était presque vide à cette heure, l'essentiel des élèves étant occupé à manger dans la Grande Salle. Elle-même avait refusé de suivre ses amis, prétextant avoir quelque chose à faire auparavant. Ce qui était vrai : il lui fallait contacter Luna. Et à sa connaissance, seules quelques personnes ici pourraient la renseigner. Sa mère l'aurait pu, également, mais il lui aurait fallu attendre, et ils avaient assez perdu de temps comme cela. A cause d'elle, tous les Objets étaient réunis, et le sort, pour ce qu'elle en savait, pouvait être lancé d'un moment à un autre.Le jeune homme s'arrêta et se retourna. Il la dévisagea d'un air surpris, tandis qu'elle réduisait la distance entre eux. Il fronça les sourcils face à son visage fatigué, et aux cernes qui se formaient sous les yeux de la jeune fille.« Quelque chose ne va pas ? »Elle savait qu'il signifiait par-là « Autre chose que ton ami inconscient à l'infirmerie », bien sûr. Tout le monde au sein de l'École était au courant de l'explosion dans la Salle sur Demande, qui était temporairement condamnée, elle ainsi que les couloirs adjacents, et ce, même s'ils n'avaient pas tous les détails – ce qui, bien sûr, faisait jaser, et inquiétait en même temps.Lily retint un soupir, et préféra être directe :« J'aurais besoin de contacter ta mère. »Lysandre la fixa quelques secondes, semblant réfléchir à la raison de ce revirement – elle avait fait tant d'efforts pour l'éviter, ces derniers temps – avant que son visage ne s'éclaire sous le coup de la compréhension.« C'est à cause de ce qui s'est passé dans la Salle sur Demande ? » demanda-t-il juste pour confirmation.Lily acquiesça juste, la gorge nouée. Heureusement, Lysandre se contenta de cela, et hocha la tête. Mais certainement était-il déjà au courant. Pour le Calice. Par sa mère. Il se tourna, semblant lui montrer le couloir face à elle.« Veux-tu l'envoyer maintenant ? »Lily acquiesça une nouvelle fois avec gratitude, et suivit Lysandre lorsqu'il se mit à marcher. Ils traversèrent en silence les couloirs de la volière, et comme d'habitude, la nonchalance tranquille du jeune homme l'apaisa. Ce fut donc presque détendue qu'elle pénétra dans la volière, et les caquètements des oiseaux assaillirent ses oreilles. Avant, cela la faisait grimacer, mais elle avait l'habitude à présent, même si elle aurait préféré ne pas quitter le silence des couloirs.Lysandre se dirigea vers un grand-duc marron grisâtre de taille moyenne, et lui donna une poignée de graines qu'il sortait d'elle ne savait où. Après avoir extrait un parchemin de son sac, Lily s'assit à même le sol pour rédiger son message. Mais ne sachant pas quoi dire – s'excuser ? lui donner rendez-vous ? – elle se contenta d'écrire qu'elle avait besoin de lui parler de vive voix, à propos des événements récents. Si elle devait s'excuser, elle le ferait aussi de vive voix.Elle se releva, roula le bout de parchemin qu'elle venait de déchirer, et le tendit à Lysandre qui l'inséra dans le petit étui accroché à la patte du volatile.« Ce sera lui qui réceptionnera la réponse. Si tu voudras lui envoyer d'autres messages par la suite, utilise-le c'est le seul qui puisse entrer chez nous. Un sort de protection entoure la maison. »« A cause des Nargoles ? »Pour la première fois, aucune ironie, moquerie ou cynisme ne se cachait derrière ces mots c'était une véritable question. Lysandre perçut la nuance, et lui adressa un sourire doux en réponse. Cela en tira un à la jeune fille.« Entre autres. »Lily hocha la tête, et tendit la main vers l'oiseau, jusqu'à ce que le bout de ces doigts effleure les plumes de son aile. L'oiseau ne réagit pas au contact, se contentant de la fixer de ses yeux ronds.« Ne t'inquiète pas. Il n'est pas craintif, tu pourras l'approcher sans problème. Il a compris que tu étais avec moi. »Lily se sentit légèrement rosir à ses paroles, bien qu'elle savait qu'elles n'avaient aucune connotation particulière. Elle se sentit aussitôt idiote de réagir ainsi pour si peu, et surtout dans une telle situation.Lysandre recula d'un pas, et Lily écarta sa main pour laisser le hibou s'envoler. Elle le regarda s'éloigner, jusqu'à ce qu'il ne forme qu'un petit trait noir qui disparut rapidement dans les nuages. Après quoi, elle reporta son attention sur le jeune homme qui la fixait d'un air indéchiffrable. Elle ne sut comment l'interpréter.« Nous devrions aller manger, avant que la Grande Salle ne soit fermée. »Lily marqua son assentiment, et sur ces mots, ils quittèrent la pièce d'abord dans le silence. Elle savait que depuis le temps qu'elle était partie, ses amis avaient déjà dû finir de manger. Elle se tourna alors vers le jeune homme, le regard presque suppliant. Elle ne voulait, et ne pouvait pas être seule il lui fallait attendre la réponse de Luna, en espérant qu'elle fut positive, et elle ne souhaitait en aucun cas se laisser ronger par la culpabilité, et son esprit divaguer sur ce qu'auraient pu être les événements si elle avait réalisé plus tôt. Toute distraction était donc bienvenue, et Lysandre pouvait la lui fournir après tout, ils étaient amis, à présent.« Je… je peux manger avec toi ? Je veux dire… mes amis ont déjà dû finir, et – »« Si tu veux », accepta Lysandre, souriant.Elle en fut doublement heureuse : il était d'accord, et il semblait même plutôt réjoui par sa proposition.Ils ne parlèrent pas davantage, et n'en eurent pas besoin elle lui prit la main, juste dans l'espoir de se détendre et de ne penser à rien, si ce n'était à l'instant présent, et Lysandre la laissa faire, sentant qu'elle en avait véritablement besoin. Comme un ami. Et pendant quelques instants, elle parvint à ne plus penser aux Nargoles, aux Objets, et à Scorpius allongé sur son lit d'infirmerie. Elle se sentit juste apaisée, et aurait voulu que ce sentiment ne cesse jamais.xoxo« Ne me dis pas que tu comptes sérieusement y aller ?! »Le sourire de Lily quitta aussitôt ses lèvres, et elle lança un regard agacé à la moue indignée de son ami. C'était lui qui était sur ce fichu lit à l'infirmerie, lui qui s'était pris cette foutue explosion en plein dans la tête, et il parvenait encore à réagir de la sorte ? Et dire qu'il venait ainsi de gâcher leur moment de retrouvailles, alors qu'il venait à peine de se réveiller – ce qui, en soi, relevait de l'exceptionnel. L'infirmière avait réellement fait des miracles. Le premier jour, ils avaient hésité à l'envoyer à Sainte-Mangouste – mais son état était alors trop instable. Et à l'heure actuelle, il était réveillé – bien réveillé, cet imbécile. Son cerveau cynique et récalcitrant, au moins. Stupide Malfoy.Luna avait rapidement répondu à son message, et au grand soulagement de la jeune fille, elle ne semblait pas lui tenir rigueur de quoi que ce soit, se contentant de lui demander quand elle serait disponible pour cela, et où, sachant qu'elle-même travaillait chez elle, et que ce ne serait donc pas un problème. A cause de son emploi du temps, et du fait qu'elle était toujours à Poudlard, Lily ne pouvait pas sortir aisément, mais elle avait fixé leur rendez-vous à trois jours après l'envoi du premier message, à la Cabane Hurlante. C'était un lieu près de Poudlard, accessible pour l'une comme pour l'autre. Même si bien sûr, cela impliquait aussi qu'elle-même devrait filer en douce la nuit hors de son dortoir, et ce malgré l'interdiction. Mais elle n'avait pas le choix les semaines suivantes s'avéraient être affreuses, et elles ne pouvaient se permettre de perdre trop de temps à attendre un moment plus propice. Elles en avaient déjà perdu assez comme cela.Mais Scorpius ne suivit en aucun cas le même cheminement de pensées, car il secoua la tête, grimaça lorsque les douleurs se réveillèrent, et il se tortilla quelques secondes pour trouver la position la moins inconfortable. Cela prit encore un petit moment avant qu'il ne se fige complètement.« Sérieusement, Lily, que s'est-il passé pendant que j'étais inconscient pour que tu songes à croire ce que cette femme te raconte ? C'est du grand n'importe quoi ! »« Parce que tu es ici pour quoi, à la base, idiot ? » rétorqua vertement la jeune fille en s'asseyant sur le matelas, obligeant Scorpius à se décaler de quelques millimètres avec un grognement sourd.Et forcément, il dut retrouver à nouveau la position la moins inconfortable possible – de telle sorte qu'il ne répondit qu'au bout de plusieurs dizaines de secondes.« Quoi, l'explosion ? Mais ça ne prouve rien du tout ! » s'exaspéra-t-il en roulant des yeux. « Plein de choses peuvent expliquer ce qui s'est passé ! Ça ne prouve en rien l'existence de ses Nargoles, et encore moins qu'ils veulent détruire Londres, ou n'importe quoi d'autre ! Mais qu'est-ce qui te prend, tout à coup ? »Lily soupira de dépit, partagée entre le désarroi et l'énervement qui montaient face à l'obstination de son ami.« Je me fous que ce soit des Nargoles ou autre chose », avoua-t-elle finalement, et avant que Scorpius ne put la couper, tandis que dans ses yeux se dressait une lueur victorieuse, elle ajouta : « Mais quoi que ce soit, les choses se sont produites comme l'avait dit Luna elle sait des choses, je ne sais pas comment, mais elle est certainement la seule susceptible de m'aider. »« Et en quoi ? » ricana-t-il. « Elle n'est venue que pour te demander de l'aide, justement ! C'est plutôt elle qui compte sur toi. Alors vous êtes mal barrées, dans ce cas ! Et par Merlin, en quoi ça te concerne, sérieusement ? »Lily prit une expression indignée à ces derniers mots.« En quoi ça me concerne ? On parle de la destruction de Londres, espèce d'imbécile ! En quoi ne me sentirais-je pas concernée ? Tu crois réellement que ça ne me ferait rien, si tous les gens qui y vivent meurent alors que j'aurais pu faire quelque chose pour l'en empêcher ? Non ! »Malgré cela, Scorpius secoua la tête, presque désemparé face à l'obstination étrange de son amie. Il ne comprenait définitivement plus rien à sa logique.« Et en quoi pourrais-tu faire quelque chose ? Parce que tu t'y connais en Objets Magiques, toi ? En Sceaux ? Sérieusement ! »« Non. Mais mon père non plus ne connaissait pas grand-chose en Horcruxes, et en plein d'autres choses encore. Ce n'était qu'un adolescent de dix-sept ans à l'époque, et cela ne l'a pas empêché de partir pendant un an à leur recherche, et de vaincre le Seigneur des Ténèbres. »La réflexion tira un silence stupéfait au jeune homme. Mais après quelques secondes, il bégaya :« Ça n'a rien à voir. »Le regard déterminé de la jeune fille ne le perturba que davantage. Par Merlin, mais que s'était-il donc passé pendant qu'il était inconscient ?« Non, et en même temps si. Écoute, je ne te demande pas de la croire », fit-elle d'un ton plus doux, posant sa main sur l'épaule du jeune homme par la même occasion, « moi-même je ne crois pas forcément à tout ce qu'elle a raconté, mais beaucoup de choses collent avec ce qu'elle avait prédit. Elle mérite au moins le bénéfice du doute, et d'être écoutée. »« Parce que ce n'est pas ce que tu as fait ces dernières semaines ? » râla-t-il, mais le ton était moins incisif que précédemment, et se faisait même las.Peut-être commençait-il à abandonner l'idée d'absolument la convaincre de ne pas y aller – mais de toute façon, qu'il fût d'accord ou non, cela ne changerait rien pour elle. Elle n'avait pas besoin de sa bénédiction. Quoiqu'il en soit, elle irait.« Non. J'ai surtout passé mon temps à éviter la discussion, et à jouer la suppliciée quand elle essayait de m'en parler. Là je vais aller l'écouter. Vraiment. »Scorpius la fixa quelques secondes en clignant des yeux, avant de soupirer avec emphase. Finalement, il haussa les épaules – bien que le mouvement fût peu ample, pour ne pas davantage tirer sur ses plaies. La main de la jeune fille glissa le long de son bras, et se posa finalement sur sa cuisse. Il y planta son regard durant quelques secondes, pour ensuite expirer bruyamment. De toute façon, que pouvait-il y faire ?« Je suppose que je n'arriverai pas à te convaincre de ne pas y aller… C'est une perte de temps, mais soit, tu es grande, et puis ce n'est pas comme si c'était dangereux. »« Je n'attendais pas ton accord », souffla Lily, toutefois satisfaite que Scorpius ait fini par céder – non pas à partager son opinion, mais au moins à lui foutre la paix avec ça.Le jeune homme la dévisagea de son regard gris en réponse, la mine sérieuse.« Je sais. »xoxoLe cœur de Lily accéléra tandis qu'elle s'approchait du dortoir des garçons. Jamais auparavant elle n'avait profité du fait que les filles pouvaient y accéder sans problème, alors que l'inverse n'était pas vrai, mais à l'heure actuelle, elle ne pouvait qu'en être soulagée. Car, malgré qu'elle ait retourné la situation dans sa tête plusieurs fois, elle ne voyait pas comment demander ce service à Albus. Pourtant, Scorpius n'avait pas dû se gêner de le mettre au courant, elle avait bien senti son regard scrutateur peser sur elle. Mais voilà, elle ne voulait pas d'un sempiternel discours sur la crédibilité que l'on pouvait accorder aux propos de Luna et sur sa tendance à inventer toutes sortes de créatures imaginaires – même si cela aurait plutôt tendance à amuser son frère. Elle n'en avait pas besoin, elle pensait la même chose qu'eux encore quelques jours plus tôt. Et à cause de cela, elle n'était pas sûre qu'il accepte.Le problème était qu'elle n'était pas sûre non plus qu'il disposait réellement de la cape d'invisibilité de leur père, ni qu'il l'avait bien laissée dans son dortoir. Mais elle serait rapidement fixée : un simple Accio suffirait.La porte s'ouvrit et elle se glissa rapidement à l'intérieur tout en balayant la pièce du regard. Elle était plongée dans la pénombre, et seules quelques raies de lumière perçaient à travers les vitres. Les rideaux fermaient les lits, l'empêchant de voir ceux qui les occupaient, et donc de savoir qui était où. Mais cela les empêchait également de la voir, elle.Lily sortit sa baguette, et murmura le sort d'une voix si ténue qu'elle ne s'entendit pas parler elle-même. Elle attendit ensuite quelques secondes, se raidissant au fur et à mesure que le temps s'égrenait, jusqu'à ce qu'une masse informe et sombre ne parvienne à sa hauteur. Elle l'attrapa, et un sourire victorieux se dessina sur son visage à ce toucher si reconnaissable. Elle n'attendit pas plus pour sortir et se précipiter vers la salle commune, la cape sous le bras.Elle s'en vêtit avant de s'introduire dans le couloir plongé dans l'obscurité. N'osant pas jeter un sort pour obtenir de la lumière, au risque de se faire repérer, elle y alla à tâtons en rasant le mur, se fiant à sa mémoire pour la guider. Tout en se maudissant de ne pas avoir pensé à également « emprunter » la Carte du Maraudeur, lorsqu'elle se souvint de son existence, à son frère, qui devait très certainement l'avoir, bien qu'il ne le lui ait jamais dit. Mais la vérification aurait été rapide.Elle connut bien un instant de panique lorsqu'une masse poilue frôla sa jambe, qui lui fit aussitôt penser à Miss Teigne – et elle songea quelques secondes plus tard que ce ne pouvait être le cas car elle devait être morte depuis un moment déjà, et elle-même ne l'avait jamais rencontrée. Puis elle se rendit compte que de toute façon, la robe ne correspondait pas – trop sombre. Et elle n'était même pas sûre que cela ait été réellement un chat. Mais aucun autre animal ne lui venait à l'esprit, au vu de la taille et de la forme vague qu'elle avait pu apercevoir.Pour le reste, le trajet se fit sans encombre – elle ne croisa même pas les préfets durant leurs rondes, lui évitant ainsi d'avoir à slalomer entre eux discrètement. Cependant, elle ne considéra cette étape comme pleinement derrière elle que lorsque la porte du château se referma derrière elle. Il lui restait encore à traverser le Parc jusqu'à la Cabane Hurlante, mais comme elle était invisible et qu'il n'y avait personne, ce n'était pas un problème. De plus, bien que la lune ne fût pas pleine, elle offrait une luminosité suffisante, qui contrastait avec les ténèbres des couloirs du château.En cette nuit, le temps était calme, et pas un vent ne sifflait ni ne la poussait. Lily n'eut donc aucun problème pour avancer, et atteignit la Cabane Hurlante après plusieurs minutes, qui lui avaient paru interminables. La vue de la sombre bâtisse déformée ne l'engageait pas à s'approcher, mais elle continuait de marcher tout en fouillant les alentours des yeux pour détecter la présence d'une silhouette.Arrivée face à la porte tout juste à l'heure du rendez-vous, Lily se stoppa et enleva la cape qu'elle revêtait, pour la coincer sous le bras. Puis elle attendit. Au bout de quelques minutes, elle se demanda si, dans le message, elle avait précisé ou non 'à l'intérieur' concernant le lieu de rencontre, mais elle ne parvint pas à s'en rappeler. Elle attendit encore quelques minutes dehors, puis se décida à tenter un coup d'œil à l'intérieur de la maison. Mais un 'plop' la fit sursauter tandis qu'elle posait sa main sur la poignée, et la soulagea grandement – elle ne souhaitait décidément pas s'introduire à l'intérieur de la Cabane.« Je suis désolée d'arriver si tard. »Lily se retourna, et malgré que les ombres masquaient l'essentiel des traits du visage de son interlocutrice, elle la reconnut à ses cheveux d'un blond pâle et à ses yeux clairs. Et même sans cela, sa voix seule avait suffi à décliner son identité.A moins que quelqu'un se fit passer pour elle. Mais une potion était nécessaire pour réaliser une telle chose, et l'observation seule ne suffirait pas à le deviner. Mais cette vague et brève inquiétude était certainement infondée – personne n'aurait d'intérêt à interférer dans cette histoire, aucun sorcier du moins.« Luna », fit Lily avec un sourire timide, soulagée par sa venue.Puis elle ne sut quoi dire d'autre, et plongea dans un mutisme gêné. Elle était assez surprise du regard de Luna : la quadragénaire était simplement intriguée, et curieuse de connaître la raison de cette rencontre. Lily se serait attendue à y voir aussi et surtout comme une lueur de reproche, ou de la rancœur après tous les rejets qu'elle lui avait infligés.« Pourquoi voulais-tu me parler ? » lâcha alors Luna, la fixant de ses grands yeux en penchant légèrement la tête sur le côté.Lily se sentit aussitôt idiote de son silence, et commença à bégayer, ne sachant par où commencer :« Je, euh… Tu es au courant de ce qui s'est passé, il y a trois jours ? »Luna acquiesça.« Tu veux parler de la Salle sur Demande ? »« Oui. »Luna hocha de nouveau la tête.« Oui. Oui, c'est passé au journal. Tu y étais, il me semble ? »« Oui, mais comment – »« Lysandre m'en a parlé. Il m'a également dit pour Scorpius. Je suis désolée. »Repenser à ces événements serra aussitôt la gorge de la jeune fille, qui déglutit avant de lâcher :« Oh, non, c'est – Scorp' est réveillé. Il a été… mais il est réveillé. »Lily ne détailla pas et heureusement, Luna n'insista pas, se contentant d'adopter un visage compréhensif. Lily se racla la gorge, gênée, mais Luna enchaîna dans un murmure – d'une voix si faible que Lily ne fut pas sûre que la question lui eût réellement été posée :« Ils ont récupéré le Calice, n'est-ce pas ? »Cependant, elle l'avait entendue, et elle se sentit obligée de répondre – d'autant que cela expliquait son revirement soudain, et sa résolution nouvelle :« Oui. Je ne sais pas comment ils ont procédé, exactement – mais ça a explosé, et le Calice n'était plus là. »Luna acquiesça en silence, et Lily, sentant la culpabilité revenir au galop et grimper en flèche en elle, et son ventre se nouer, se sentit obligée de s'excuser :« Écoute, Luna, je-je suis désolée pour, euh… tout ce que j'ai pu te dire ces derniers jours – enfin surtout, ce que j'ai pu faire. T'éviter comme ça n'était pas la chose la plus intelligente à faire, et puis ce que tu disais me paraissait tellement… improbable, qu'au fond, je n'y ai jamais réellement réfléchi – enfin, je veux dire, je n'ai jamais remis en cause ce que je pensais être la vérité, ce que mes parents pensaient être la vérité, et – »« Tu n'as pas à t'excuser, tu sais », l'interrompit Luna avec un léger sourire, tandis qu'elle-même cherchait ses mots. « Je comprends. »Lily marqua un temps d'arrêt, d'abord trop étonnée pour rétorquer quoi que ce fût. Elle comprenait ? Elle comprenait que tout le monde eût pris, et prît encore, ses propos comme des élucubrations délurées, et n'eussent jamais pris quelques secondes pour se questionner sur leur possible véracité ? Ces quelques mots eurent l'effet d'une douche froide pour Lily. Elle aurait dû leur en vouloir, même un peu – après tout, l'avenir de Londres était en jeu. Dire qu'elle était gentille et pas rancunière était un doux euphémisme.Lily comprit encore moins lorsque Luna adopta alors une petite moue embarrassée, comme si elle allait dire quelque chose dont elle mourrait d'envie mais que quelque chose la gênait en cela. Or, d'elles deux, elle était celle qui ne devrait pas le moins du monde ressentir ce genre de chose – c'était elle-même qui –« Pourquoi me dis-tu tout ça maintenant ? Cela veut-il dire que tu, euh… acceptes de m'aider ? »La jeune fille comprit que c'était le moment d'expliquer le pourquoi de sa venue ici. Même si Luna ne semblait lui tenir aucune rigueur ni réclamer de quelconques explications, Lily avait besoin d'en parler – pour Luna, et pour elle-même.« Jusqu'à la fin des vacances, je ne croyais à rien de ce que tu me racontais. Et pourquoi l'aurais-je fait ? Tu évoquais des vols qui commençaient à dater, et en prédisait d'autres qui ne semblaient pas vouloir se produire ! Je me demandais juste pourquoi tu t'acharnais autant sur moi, pourquoi moi précisément, mais sans y réfléchir davantage – je m'agaçais juste de ton insistance, et le fait que les autres, mes amis, mes parents, me disaient la même chose, me renforçait dans cette conviction. Puis, les vols ont repris…, les vols des Objets dont tu avais parlé ! »Luna se rendit alors compte que Lily parlait davantage pour elle-même, et lâchait toutes ses pensées à ce sujet. Elle était perdue, ses repères semblaient s'effacer, et elle souhaitait juste ordonner les événements et comprendre. C'est pourquoi elle la laissa continuer, malgré son envie d'intervenir pour qu'elle cessât de culpabiliser de la sorte.« Tout d'abord, ceux au Ministère… Je savais ce qu'ils étaient, avec la liste que tu m'as fournie… Mais je ne voulais pas encore y croire, ça paraissait tellement improbable, et en même temps, je ne pouvais m'empêcher de m'inquiéter pour le dernier Objet, celui de la Salle sur Demande… Il n'a pas fallu longtemps avant que je n'aille régulièrement dans cette Salle, juste pour me rassurer, et m'assurer que tu avais tort, que cette histoire de sort et de destruction de Londres n'était que du grand n'importe quoi. »Le regard de Luna s'adoucit plus que cela n'était encore possible – ses fils lui en avaient parlé, ayant croisé la jeune fille à plusieurs reprises, mais c'était autre chose que d'entendre la principale concernée le confirmer. Lily ne se rendit pas compte de son émoi, prise dans son quasi-monologue.« Mais ça ne m'empêchait pas d'y aller de plus en plus souvent, et Scorpius le savait et a essayé de m'en dissuader… Jusqu'à il y a trois jours. C'était la même chose, je m'étais bêtement plantée devant ce stupide Calice, inquiète mais sans comprendre pourquoi – sans vouloir comprendre pourquoi – et Scorpius qui s'est mis entre moi et l'Objet, pour me prouver qu'il ne se passait rien et qu'il ne se passerait rien. Mais il s'est passé quelque chose : et Scorpius en est ressorti blessé, et le Calice a disparu. Alors, même si je ne sais plus quoi penser de l'existence des Nargoles, et que le fait que je sois une… Gardienne de Sceaux me laisse un peu sceptique, je ne peux pas rester sans rien faire, et tu sais des choses que les autres ne savent pas – et ne veulent sans doute pas savoir, d'une certaine façon. »« Donc… tu acceptes ? » lâcha finalement Luna, le ton plein d'espoir.La tirade de Lily avait ému Luna bien plus qu'elle ne l'aurait cru. Même si elle ne croyait pas totalement à tous ses propos, non seulement elle lui laissait le bénéfice du doute, mais elle semblait vouloir également lui accorder l'opportunité de lui prouver la véracité de ses dires. Et c'était tout ce qu'elle souhaitait – ça, et empêcher les Nargoles de mettre leur plan à exécution, bien entendu.Lily la fixa quelques secondes d'un air surpris, avant de montrer son assentiment.« Oui. Enfin… Même si pour le coup, ce serait plutôt toi qui m'aiderais. »Luna se contenta de lui sourire en retour, rayonnante. Elle n'aurait pas pu rêver d'une meilleure réponse. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Lily leva les yeux vers la banque Gringotts, haut bâtiment pâle dressé devant elle. De nombreuses plaies béantes parsemaient son corps de trous noircis et vides. Toutefois, les chutes de pierres avaient déjà été dégagées. La situation était revenue au calme à peine quelques jours plus tôt, mais les Londoniens s'affairaient déjà à la reconstruction de la partie magique de la ville. Car heureusement, seul le quartier magique avait été sévèrement touché – les impacts de cette affaire sur le monde des Moldus avaient été minimes, et peu de sorts d'oubli avaient ainsi été nécessaires. Le Chemin de Traverse avait été l'un des endroits les plus sévèrement touchés par l'âpreté des combats, et Gringotts en était le parfait exemple. Mais tout cela était derrière eux, désormais. En repensant aux événements récents, elle sourit avec soulagement.Tout cela avait été si rapide – quelques semaines à peine avaient suffi pour que tout s'achève. Ils n'étaient pas passés loin de la catastrophe. D'abord seules contre tous, excepté les jumeaux qui avaient été d'un réel soutien pour les deux femmes, durant le peu de temps qui leur restait suite au vol du Calice, elles avaient heureusement pu compter sur l'appui des informations fournies par l'université de Singapour. Même si au début, Lily s'était montré quelque peu sceptique vis-à-vis de certains points, notamment de l'existence des Nargoles, les jours qui avaient suivi sa décision furent décisifs, et la firent totalement accepter cette idée, alors qu'elle l'avait jusqu'à présent considérée comme impensable. Scorpius s'était rapidement joint au duo après sa sortie de l'infirmerie, même s'il ne croyait toujours pas à un mot de Luna, mais les choses avaient déjà rapidement évolué entre temps. Et surtout, elles s'étaient beaucoup détériorées.Heureusement pour eux tous, le lancement du sort lui-même avait pris beaucoup de temps, et c'était ce qui les avait sauvés – ça, et toutes les informations qu'avait pu réunir Luna, sans lesquelles Lily n'aurait rien pu faire. Appuyées de ses notes et des quelques connaissances de Lily sur les Runes – ce qui l'avait pas mal aidé, il fallait l'avouer, même si c'était tout de même relativement bien différent des Sceaux – elles étaient finalement parvenues à récupérer le Calice. Après cela, les choses avaient été un peu plus faciles – tout du moins, comme le sort était provisoirement interrompu, cela avait retiré un énorme poids qui pesait sur leurs têtes. Et finalement, elles avaient réussi à l'annuler complètement, et même à détruire quelques-uns des Objets, avec l'aide d'autres sorciers.Car oui, la société sorcière avait dû se rendre à l'évidence face au problème grave auquel ils étaient confrontés, et avait fini par se joindre à eux. Mais il avait fallu attendre de graves répercussions sur la ville de Londres pour que les autres admettent que les événements allaient dans le sens de leurs dires – et même là, ils niaient toujours l'existence des Nargoles et leur implication dans cette affaire. Il leur avait fallu encore un moment pour cela. Mais au moins avaient-ils alors pu bénéficier de leur aide.Mais tout ce déni ne leur avait pas facilité la tâche, et avait eu un prix.Elle entendit fulminer à côté d'elle et se tourna alors vers son ami Scorpius qui fusillait quelque chose du regard, puis elle se tourna vers la chose en question. Elle soupira lorsqu'elle aperçut ce que c'était. Ou plutôt qui ils étaient : son père et Hermione. Ils se tenaient à quelques mètres d'eux, les mains entrelacées, souriants, entourés de quelques amis. Elle fronça les sourcils mais préféra ne rien dire, priant juste pour qu'il en restât là. Mais c'était trop lui demander.« Tu imagines s'ils font des enfants ? »« Pardon ? »Lily lui jeta un regard éperdu, ne comprenant pas où il voulait en venir – enfin, surtout pourquoi il lui disait ça. Son ami n'y fit pas attention et continua, reportant son regard vers la source de ses inquiétudes :« Ça leur fait quoi déjà, quarante-et-un ans ? Quarante-deux ? Ils peuvent encore après tout ! »« Ne me dis que tu t'inquiètes juste pour ça ?! » s'indigna Lily, alors que ses dernières pensées concernaient les derniers événements qu'ils avaient vécus.A côté, cela paraissait juste risible. En plus, ils venaient à peine de se mettre ensemble.Mais pas pour Scorpius. Et elle devinait pourquoi elle l'interrompit alors qu'il venait à peine d'ouvrir la bouche, adoptant malgré elle un ton quelque peu exaspéré :« Oui, je sais, ce serait le demi-frère ou la demi-sœur de Rose également ! »Il n'avait pas l'air de vouloir comprendre que le problème n'était pas vraiment là, en réalité – c'était juste qu'elle le détestait. Mais bon, elle l'avait déjà assez répété comme ça, non ?Elle préféra donc changer de sujet, et balaya les alentours du regard. Elle grimaça en voyant si peu de monde dans la rue – connu ou non. Les gens n'oseraient pas revenir comme à leur habitude sur le Chemin de Traverse avant un petit moment.« On fait partie des premiers arrivés, en fait ! » fit-elle sur le ton du constat.« En même temps, on est arrivés tôt », répondit-il en reprenant ses œillades sombres à l'adresse des deux adultes.Mais cette fois, Lily décida d'ignorer sa mauvaise humeur et ce sujet, et poursuivit sur sa lancée, la mine déconfite :« J'aurais pensé que tout le monde viendrait plus tôt. Après tout, c'est la première fois qu'on se retrouve après notre victoire. Même Hermione est là, pourtant elle est Ministre de la Magie ! »« Ouais, bah elle a dû oublier… », glissa Scorpius, cynique, faisant allusion à la raison pour laquelle elle aurait été distraite de son poste.Lily leva les yeux au ciel, et souffla, agacée :« Scorp', tu es incorrigible ! Et je te signale, espèce d'idiot, que ton père est accessoirement Directeur de la Justice Magique, et qu'il est également présent ! »Cet argument ne perturba pas le moins du monde son homologue, mais eut vraisemblablement le mérite de faire cesser ses plaintes. Il arbora tout de même une petite moue boudeuse, mais n'alla pas plus loin.« Au fait, pourquoi tes parents ne sont pas encore là ? »Lily haussa les épaules avec indifférence.« Ils vont bientôt arriver. Je n'ai pas réellement écouté, je crois que mon père voulait passer à son bureau pour quelque chose. »Scorpius hocha la tête mais ne répondit pas, et lâcha enfin le couple des yeux pour scruter à son tour les personnes présentes. Quelques connaissances étaient déjà sur les lieux, mais beaucoup manquaient encore à l'appel. Pour ceux qui pouvaient venir.Soudain, plusieurs personnes apparurent sur le Chemin de Traverse, dont la grande famille Weasley au complet – ou presque, Scorpius n'était pas sûr, ils étaient si nombreux ces gens-là…Et puis de toute façon, une seule personne intéressait réellement Scorpius parmi eux. Tandis que tous se dirigeaient vers Draco et Hermione et entamaient une discussion avec eux, il se mit à sourire, et l'appela :« Rose ! »La jeune rouquine se tourna vers eux, pour lancer un regard vaguement agacé vers le jeune homme avant de reporter son attention vers sa famille. Malgré tout, Scorpius conserva son air de bienheureux que Lily jugea niaiseux.« Bel essai », fit sobrement Lily, un sourcil haussé.Scorpius ne répliqua pas, bien trop concentré sur l'autre rousse.« N'empêche, tu as rapidement oublié vos parents en train de – »Mais il ne l'écoutait définitivement plus, et la coupa même avec enthousiasme :« Elle finira bien par s'en rendre compte ! »« Se rendre compte de quoi ? »Mais il ne dit pas davantage, et s'avança alors vers le groupe qui s'agrandissait avec l'arrivée des Londubat et des Finnegan. Lily secoua la tête, amusée cette fois-ci.Elle fut légèrement surprise lorsqu'elle vit de loin Scorpius entamer une discussion avec Rose, qui ne semblait pas le rejeter d'office. Mais cette impression fut brève et reléguée rapidement loin dans un coin de son cerveau, tandis que d'autres plops s'élevaient près d'elle.Quelques autres personnes arrivèrent encore par la suite, dont sa famille, mais Lily ne se joignit pas à la discussion, préférant attendre. Elle attendait quelqu'un. Plusieurs personnes, en réalité, mais surtout une en particulier.Après quelques minutes, le groupe ainsi formé commença sa lente progression vers ce qu'ils considéraient désormais comme leur bar, celui où ils avaient décidé de se rejoindre. Elle ne savait pas pourquoi leurs parents avaient décrété que ce serait celui-là, mais elle n'en avait pas non plus cherché la raison, qui ne l'intriguait même pas. Ils n'étaient toujours pas là. Elle jeta des coups d'œil autour d'eux en leur emboitant le pas avec lenteur. Mais elle ne les apercevait toujours pas.« Tu cherches Luna, n'est-ce pas ? »Lily sursauta et faillit trébucher lorsqu'elle s'arrêta, pour se retourner vers la personne qui l'avait ainsi interpellée. Albus. Il s'était arrêté lui aussi, et la regardait avec douceur. Elle ne put que lui rendre son léger sourire.« Oui », murmura-t-elle finalement, la gorge un peu serrée.Elle n'aurait jamais cru cela, mais les événements les avaient considérablement rapprochées toutes les deux. Elle l'avait toujours appréciée, même avant tout cela, mais c'était différent. Après tout ce qu'elles avaient vécu et partagé ensemble depuis, tout était différent.Elle ne vit pas son frère hocher légèrement la tête à sa réponse, ni son regard compréhensif se poser sur elle. Elle entendit à peine sa voix s'élever près d'elle, la faisant sortir de ses songes par la même occasion :« Elle va venir, tu sais. Ils vont tous venir. »Lily se sentit incapable d'articuler une réponse intelligible. Elle préféra donc se contenter d'un signe de tête.Quelques secondes après, la façade du bar se dressa devant eux. Elle aussi avait connu quelques revers suite à la bataille, mais il n'en restait presque plus de traces – seule la peinture se devait d'être rafraichie. L'entrée, étroite, ne permettait que le passage d'une personne à la fois. Le frère et la sœur s'arrêtèrent donc à quelques pas de là, en plein milieu de la rue, pour céder le passage aux autres. Lily avait beau cherché, elle ne parvenait pas à apercevoir la tête blonde de son ami parmi eux – seulement celle de son père.Le silence se prolongea une minute ou deux avant qu'ils ne s'avancent à leur tour. Sans qu'elle n'en comprit la raison, Albus la précéda avec un petit sourire taquin, mais elle n'insista pas, indifférente, et le suivit. Et tandis qu'elle entrait, le regard fixé sur le reste du groupe occupé à accoler plusieurs tables avec l'aide d'un serveur, chose pas évidente du fait du peu d'espace qu'offrait la pièce, et à s'y installer, elle sentit quelqu'un tapoter légèrement son épaule. Elle sursauta et se retourna. Lysandre lui fit aussitôt face avec un léger sourire en coin. Elle sentit ses joues rosir, et préféra s'exclamer pour masquer son trouble :« Lysandre ! »« Hey », répondit ce dernier en plissant les yeux. « Tu devrais avancer », lui fit-il ensuite remarquer en s'apercevant qu'ils bloquaient tous deux le passage – elle en fait, vu qu'elle-même le bloquait.« Oh ! Oui. »Elle recula, et ne sut pas quoi ajouter d'autre. Au final, elle pencha la tête et aperçut le reste de la famille Dragonneau. Dont Luna.Cette dernière avait bien meilleure mine depuis la dernière fois qu'elle l'avait vue. Elle-même espérait ne jamais la revoir dans l'état dans lequel elle avait été lorsqu'ils avaient enfin réussi à contrer le plan des Nargoles : gravement blessée, le teint blafard presque blanc, une quantité pharamineuse de sang ayant déjà quitté son corps. Tous avaient bien cru qu'elle y resterait. Mais heureusement, elle avait survécu, grâce à la rapidité de son père, qui l'avait transportée à Sainte Mangouste, et au professionnalisme et à l'expérience des médicomages.Cependant, les séquelles de ce grave incident étaient bien visibles : son teint déjà pâle l'était plus qu'à son habitude, de profondes cernes formaient des poches sous ses yeux, et sa faiblesse était évidente. Rolf se tenait juste à côté d'elle, un bras autour de sa taille, la soutenant au besoin – et c'était visiblement déjà le cas. Derrière eux, Lorcan fermait la marche.« Luna ! Je suis heureuse de te voir ! Tu as pu quitter Sainte Mangouste ? »« J'ai eu une permission », corrigea cette dernière, étirant ses lèvres en un maigre sourire.Ils rejoignirent la tablée et s'installèrent à leur tour. Lily se glissa à côté de Scorpius, qui lui avait gardé une place. Elle nota toutefois que Rose s'était placée de sorte à être assez loin de lui. Par contre, Draco et Hermione assumaient désormais pleinement leur relation. Cela la fit sourire. C'était déjà ça de pris.Tous notèrent bien évidemment la présence de Luna malgré son teint livide, et plusieurs exprimèrent une vive inquiétude pour sa santé, qu'elle balaya aussitôt d'un sourire et de son habituel air rêveur.Les commandes furent passées – l'alcool étant bien évidemment banni des options pour les plus jeunes, au grand désespoir de certains –, et les discussions allèrent bon train. Jusqu'à ce qu'Hermione, qui fixait Luna avec insistance depuis quelques minutes déjà, ne dise soudain :« Je suis désolée. »Ces simples mots furent entendus de tous malgré le ton assez bas qui avait été adopté, et ils firent leur effet le silence s'installa dans le groupe. Tous se tournèrent vers elle pour la regarder, interrogateurs, dont Luna. Ce n'était pas le fait qu'elle s'excuse en soi qui était surprenant, mais plutôt : pourquoi ?Luna se posait la question comme tous les autres, et, l'air égaré, elle lâcha finalement :« De quoi ? »Hermione se mordit la lèvre inférieure, baissa la tête quelques secondes avant de la relever, sous l'incompréhension générale. Hermione Granger était reconnue pour être quelqu'un de forte et d'assurée. Cette indécision, et cette gêne qui transparaissait dans ses traits, les étonnaient. La Ministre s'en rendit bien compte et prit quelques secondes avant d'expliciter ses propos :« De ne pas t'avoir crue plus tôt. »Tous comprirent aussitôt l'allusion, et se raidirent en s'assombrissant. Hermione n'était pas la seule à devoir s'excuser à ce sujet. Personne ne l'avait jamais cru jusqu'à ce que les événements leur démontrent le contraire et ne dégénèrent. Excepté Lily, même si elle ne l'avait pas cru au début, et ses fils.Luna cligna des yeux. Lily sourit et tourna un visage rayonnant vers celle-ci. Mais Luna ne le vit pas, fixant toujours le visage fermé et désolé d'Hermione avec perplexité. Plusieurs sentiments contradictoires se mêlaient en elle, et elle ne parvenait à mettre le doigt sur aucune d'entre elles. En vérité, elle ne réussissait même pas à réfléchir un tant soit peu.Hermione toussota pour reprendre contenance tandis que les autres, sombres, se replongeaient dans leurs souvenirs et leurs regrets. Elle reprit, d'une voix d'abord un peu faible mais qu'elle maintint forte :« Si nous t'avions cru plus tôt, jamais cette histoire n'aurait été aussi loin. Tu avais raison depuis le début. Et nous… Nous n'avons… Nous n'avons jamais considéré ce que tu disais comme ne serait-ce qu'une éventualité. Je veux dire… depuis toutes ces années où tu nous parles des Nargoles, à aucun moment nous nous étions doutés de leur existence – de leur véritable existence ! »« Hermione… », souffla Luna, émue, ses mains devenant blanches tandis qu'elle serrait les pans de sa robe jaune.« Soyons sincères », poursuivit cette dernière, tandis que les autres adultes, ses anciens camarades, préféraient rester muets et fixer leurs verres, pensifs : « nous t'avons toujours prise pour une folle, avec ces histoires de Nargoles, de Joncheruines et du reste. Cela t'avait même valu le surnom de Loufoca Lovegood ! » ricana-t-elle finalement, mais ce n'était par humour – ce n'était que du dépit.Leurs anciens camarades de Poudlard ne réagirent pas davantage, si ce n'était pour s'enfoncer un peu plus dans leurs sièges – parce que c'était vrai. C'était tellement vrai, et ils se sentaient tellement coupables aujourd'hui.Luna déglutit. Elle s'en rappelait parfaitement. Elle s'en rappelait, mais elle ne leur en voulait pas – pourquoi leur en aurait-elle voulu ? Cela ne l'avait jamais atteinte par le passé. Après tout, qu'est-ce qui les auraient forcés à la croire, à l'époque ? C'était juste dommage qu'ils ne l'aient pas davantage cru il y avait quelques semaines de cela, cette histoire n'aurait alors pas été aussi loin. Mais elle ne pouvait pas leur en vouloir. Elle-même croirait-elle quelqu'un sur parole s'il lui parlait d'une créature qu'elle était incapable de voir, de percevoir, de sentir ?… Peut-être que si, en réalité. Mais c'était dans sa nature de s'interroger à ce sujet, d'avoir la capacité de croire même sans preuve. Elle savait que c'était le cas de peu de monde.Hermione semblait vouloir mettre des mots sur toutes ces pensées qui l'agitaient et les énoncer à haute voix – sans doute était-ce lié au remords qui l'habitait désormais –, car elle ne s'arrêta pas là.« Je suis désolée », répéta-t-elle. « Ce-Tout ça, ça n'aurait jamais dû arriver. Tu n'aurais jamais dû être blessée. Il – »Soudain elle s'interrompit, mais tous comprirent la suite. Il n'y aurait jamais dû y avoir de morts. Car même s'ils n'avaient pas été nombreux, et qu'ils s'en étaient plutôt bien sortis au final, elles auraient pu être évitées.De là où elle était, Luna ne vit pas Hermione serrer les poings sur ses genoux mais le devina parfaitement. Finalement, ne sachant plus quoi dire d'autre, la brune répéta d'une voix plus faible :« Je suis désolée… »Luna tourna son regard vers les autres et s'aperçut que, même s'ils ne le disaient pas de vive voix, leurs visages parlaient pour eux et s'accordaient avec les propos de leur amie – et finalement, les uns après les autres, ils s'excusèrent à leur tour, mais n'ajoutèrent rien de plus – Hermione avait déjà tout dit. La sensation qui saisit alors l'épouse Dragonneau était étrange : elle était à la fois heureuse, heureuse qu'ils reconnaissent enfin ce qu'elle ne cessait de dire depuis des années, et en même temps, la culpabilité qui transpirait d'eux lui serrait le cœur et la désolait.« Vous n'avez pas à l'être… », chuchota-t-elle finalement, mais l'endroit était suffisamment calme pour que tous l'entendissent.Ils ne réagirent pas à sa phrase, mais leurs mines sceptiques semblaient douter de ses propos. Luna se tut, ne sachant que dire d'autre. Finalement, son regard se posa sur ses jumeaux, qui lui sourirent distraitement, puis sur Lily, qui la fixait avec douceur. Un sentiment de quiétude l'envahit soudain – et même s'il n'oblitérait pas la douleur languissante qui engourdissait son corps, elle-même l'oublia bien vite.Alors que le silence s'éternisait, Albus lâcha distraitement, son regard pensif plongé dans son verre :« Ce n'est jamais évident de distinguer le vrai du faux… »Lily ne pouvait qu'en convenir.
10765608	theyll sweetly drown you	{ "Archive Warning": "Major Character Death", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Kim Wonshik \| Ravi, Lee Jaehwan \| Ken", "Fandom": "VIXX", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by youburnme", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-30T00:00:00", "words": "1,223", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Dark, Horror, -ish?, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Drowning", "Relationship": "Kim Wonshik \| Ravi/Lee Jaehwan \| Ken", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	The water is calm, no sound to be heard except for the gentle lap of the waves against the side of the boat. His skin prickles and he can feel eyes on him, watching, waiting. He’s waiting, too. He can almost feel the fear coming out of him in waves and wonders if they can smell it, if maybe it works on them as their voice does in humans. A fine mist is forming near the surface, almost as if surrounding the boat, and Wonsik feels his heart beating against his ribcage. He has been sitting in silence for a while now, alone, feeling every second pass like a grain of sand trickling in an hourglass. He gathers his courage, clears his throat and takes a deep breath. He starts singing, his voice shaking, unsure.“Upon one summer’s morning, I carefully did stray…”Almost immediately a few ripples betray movement under the surface, not close enough to it to make a sound. Wonsik startles when he notices, feels his throat closing up from fear, his voice refusing to come out. He tries to fight it, tries to at least hum the rest of the song as best as he can. What would happen, he wonders, if he ran. If he could go back to shore, walk inland and never return. But he won’t; he can’t. He loves the sea too much, and he would never leave Hakyeon. He has to do this. He has to prove himself, and he will.A silhouette appears underwater, approaching the left side of the boat before disappearing again. He follows the movement with his eyes, sees what’s coming before a head appears to his right, breaking the surface; dark long hair and an angular face; a pointed nose; slightly pointed ears; full lips. Its skin shines under the moonlight, pale shoulders bobbing in and out of the water as it approaches. They are enchanting, delicate and graceful in their movements, their features so splendid they seem to have been carved by the gods themselves. But above all else they are deadly, and he is well aware of that, and still his heart aches every time he lays eyes on one of them.The creature smiles at him just for a second, lips curving delicately, eyes bright and unblinking, and his pathetic efforts die on his throat.“My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,” a voice high and clear continues right where Wonsik left off—or would have, had he been singing any lyrics. It reverberates off the nearby rocks, creating the illusion of a choir singing from all sides of the boat, only for him. Wonsik stares at its lips as they form the words, the skin pink and shining, inviting. “There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold.” It smiles at him again, looking up at his face. The sight makes a shiver run down his spine; it is beautiful, and he cannot take his eyes off the creature’s face. “Are you my jolly sailor bold?” It asks, voice sweet like a love song. Something shifts inside Wonsik at the sound, and it’s like a bolt sliding into place. He misses the slightly condescending tone in the question, almost mocking.He shouldn’t listen to merfolk, he knows that somewhere deep inside, but he can’t help it. When he moves slightly towards the edge of the boat, towards the water, the creature’s smile grows, and Wonsik inches a little bit closer just to see him do that again. It looks otherworldly, and he drinks in the sight like a starving man looking through a window at a feast.“They say that having a mer on a ship brings good luck, wards against storms,” Wonsik blurts out. He doesn’t know what makes him say that, but he doesn’t want him to go, wants him to talk, to sing. He’s enthralled. He wonders how his lips would taste, how they would feel against his.The merman slides his arms out of the water, rests them on the edge of the boat. “I know,” he says, his fingers brushing against Wonsik’s, the touch so light it’s barely noticeable, like a gentle breeze in the night. There’s a low hum in Wonsik’s ears and he feels a pleasant tingling on his skin, a gentle tug on his heart, a thrill rising within him. “Would you like to kiss me?”Wonsik’s breath catches in his throat at the twinkle of anticipation in the merman’s eyes, crescent moons almost disappearing as his smile widens, a flash of white teeth shining between his lips, and he feels as if he could drown in them.Something tugs at the back of his mind, a sense of urgency invading him. A memory of the flare at his feet, of the knife hiding in his boot. For signalling, for protection. Other lips, curving against his skin in a smile, against the side of his mouth. There’s a reason for him being alone at sea; a punishment, a task he should be fulfilling. The creature sees the change in his eyes, the momentary flash of recognition, of understanding; sees them beginning to clear and remember, and places a hand delicately on his cheek. It—he hums again, only for a few seconds, a line, his thumb caressing his face.Oh, but what a lovely face it is. How it will look underwater, air rushing out of that pretty mouth in bubbles, eyes wide open. How sweet it will be, to hear the strong drumming of his heartbeat slowing down until it fades. How heady is the smell of fear, of arousal under it, the desire to please and get closer clear in every little movement, in every angle, in every breath. Will you sing to me? Will you keep me company? The creature wonders, heart singing at the idea.“I’m bait,” Wonsik whispers, his mouth dry. They want to hurt him, his merman, and he cannot let them. He will not let them. “For you. We’re hunting you.”“I know,” the merman says, his other hand reaching for him, his arms circling his shoulders, his fingers locking behind his neck. He draws him closer, slowly. “No one will hurt me,” he murmurs into his ear, breath ghosting against his skin. It sounds like a promise, and he can hear the smile in his voice.Wonsik leans closer to him, and when they kiss the merman’s lips are cold and damp, and taste of salt and something sweet. Their lips meet again and when they part a second time Wonsik chases the kiss, eyes closed, not wanting it to end. He feels fingers like fish bones pushing against the back of his neck, cold and sharp, and lets himself be pulled towards the water. He feels the cold caress against his face, his neck, his back, his legs.When he opens his eyes again the merman smiles at him, mouth wide open. His sharp teeth glisten under the moonlight piercing the water. Yes, yes, Wonsik can only think, his mouth open in silent ecstasy, his lungs filling like wineskins, take me with you. The water is calm, no sound to be heard except for the gentle lap of the waves against the side of the empty boat, a dense mist surrounding it.
10729560	Do Not Fear	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Widowmaker \| Amélie Lacroix, Angela \"Mercy\" Ziegler, Lena \"Tracer\" Oxton", "Fandom": "Overwatch (Video Game)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by Tah the Trickster (TahTheTrickster)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-25T00:00:00", "words": "967", "Additional Tags": "One-Sided Attraction, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Memory Loss, Angst, Past Relationship(s)", "Relationship": "Widowmaker \| Amélie Lacroix & Angela \"Mercy\" Ziegler", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Hell and High Water", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	When Agent Widowmaker first slipped behind enemy lines, it was for sake of the mission alone: pick off the stragglers, take out higher-profile targets if able, and get out again. It had been a solid plan. She was, naturally, the most mobile of Talon's agents, able to get in and out with no trouble whatsoever. That, perhaps, was the most crucial element of the plan in which she was involved. Widowmaker was, after all, the most infamous and (in turn) most wanted of Talon's agents, with a kill list a mile long and not a missed target to her name. Had any of the Overwatch agents stumbled upon her before she could get away, her body would've been riddled with bullets long before it could hit the ground. Which would make her current sniping spot on a rooftop in plain sight an exceedingly stupid idea. Stupider yet would be to remain standing so still there—that, of course, would make her a visible and easy target. And choosing such a heavily-trafficked and easily-accessible rooftop as the one on which she was perched? An altogether amateur mistake. Particularly given her targets amongst the Overwatch agents below her, who preferred to shoot first than ask questions ever. Sloppy. Sloppy. Agent Widowmaker had not expected to lower her rifle at the feeling of a cold pistol muzzle pressed into the nape of her neck. Well. Not for more than a second, anyway. Of all the calculations she'd made tonight, Widowmaker dared to consider that that was her most egregious error. She had not expected hesitation. Widowmaker supposed, as the seconds ticked by with the pistol pressed against her skin, that it was fortunate she did not truly feel, as making such a miscalculation as not expecting the healer to corner her would've been altogether infuriating. As it was, though, Widowmaker could do little more than offer a thin little ghost of a chuckle. " Bonne nuit, docteur. " The pistol trembled for scarcely a second, but Widowmaker noticed it nonetheless. A cruel smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "...Put the rifle down," said Mercy's cold voice behind her. Impressive. The doctor sounded nearly as impassive as Widowmaker herself did. As though she didn't care. But, oh, she did. Widowmaker knew she did. The first time she'd encountered the medic in the field Mercy had been so shocked, so shaken that it'd taken one of her teammates grabbing her and physically yanking her along after them to snap her out of it. It must have hurt her tremendously to see her former acquaintance's face on the opposing side. Oh, she cared alright. Her words, though, were... concerning. "And why would I do that?" "You think I'm going to let you stand here and take shots at my teammates?" Ah, there was a thread of emotion, if indeed incredulity could be called an emotion. "And you're going to stop me?" Widowmaker asked, injecting some scorn into her words, the question stabbing out at Mercy. She even let a little scoff slip her lips. " Please. " She lifted the Widow's Kiss as if to take aim again. Mercy surprised her by pressing the gun harder against her neck, letting Widowmaker feel the way the cold metal dug into her sickly cyanotic skin. "Amélie Lacroix," she hissed through her teeth; Widowmaker twitched slightly at the name, "if you make me shoot now, it will be fatal." Ah, there it was. That cruel smile tugged at Widowmaker's lips again. She gazed down at the battle ongoing on the streets below them both, oblivious to the pair of them high above. What would the world think, she mused, about the world's greatest assassin being murdered in cold blood by the doctor who had defied death itself? Poetic justice, or something like it. Her smile broadened into a vicious grin, and those brilliant golden eyes slid closed. "So do it. " It was a dare. The gun remained pressed hard into the nape of her neck, digging an imprint of the barrel into her skin, unmoving. A slow, shuddering breath behind her—two of them. There was a soft slide- click of the pistol's hammer cocking, and then there were no breaths for a long moment. Widowmaker waited patiently. The pistol trembled. "...Break, break, Tracer, Tracer, this is Mercy, how do you copy? Over." Widowmaker's eyes snapped open as the pistol left her skin. She whipped around and was met with Mercy's gun still aimed at her, gaze steely cold, one hand at the communicator at her ear. "Requesting backup and transport, Agent Widowmaker cornered, I say again, requesting backup and transport—" Transport? Her eyes narrowed sharply at the determined look in those hardened blue eyes. The instant it clicked, Widowmaker's mouth turned down in a deep scowl. Oh, absolutely not. Mercy wasn't expecting the palm strike, the heel of Widowmaker's hand crushing the bridge of her nose effortlessly and sending her sprawling back onto the concrete. She swore viciously as blood streamed down her face in thick crimson rivulets. Widowmaker's steel heel knocked out whatever breath remained in her as it slammed hard into her chest. There was a flicker of startled fear on her face an instant before Mercy reached out for her gun, snarling, teeth slick with her own blood. Widowmaker tsk ed at her, raising her gauntlet, the slender robotic mine already shifting in its casing for launch. Those bright blue eyes widened; point blank, that venom was deadly. Widowmaker knew she'd seen those effects firsthand. A cold, sarcastic smile touched Widowmaker's expression. " Adieu, docteur. " And with a single, intentional motion, the mine's needle-like talons stabbed into her wrist, flooding hypoxic blood with venom, and Widowmaker swore she heard Mercy gasp in something like horror before she succumbed to the black swimming behind her vision.
10781298	Happy Birthday Harry	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by tqpannie", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2006-07-30T00:00:00", "words": "1,046", "Additional Tags": "Erotica, Heterosexual Sex, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "The Quidditch Pitch", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Author's notes: Written for the July Wear Your Birthday Suit Challenge at The Quidditch Pitch Thanks to ladytory for the beta. To my co-captains…I told you I was going to do it! Harry could feel the blush that was rising on his cheeks. He wanted to move, he should move, and he was going to move any moment. Yes, he was going to stop staring at Ginny Weasley any moment now.This wasn't where Harry expected to be when he woke up on his birthday. He was so anxious to get out of the Dursley's house that he hadn't bothered to shower. He said his goodbyes and drug Ron and Hermione out the door behind him. It wasn't even dawn yet—he should have been safe taking a shower.Now, now he was standing in the loo, staring at a very naked Ginny Weasley, and she was staring right back at him. He was naked, aroused, and in the loo with a very wet Ginny Weasley—in fact, Harry could see the water beading on her skin, and quite frankly, he thought that drop had lingered on the peak of her nipple just a bit too long."Harry?"Harry blinked several times and Ginny waved her hands in front of his face."Oi, Harry!""Ginny," Harry squeaked. "Fancy meeting you here!"As soon as the words left his mouth, Harry wanted to bang his head against the wall. A girl, not just any girl, the girl of his dreams was standing in front of him completely starkers; and he sounded as if he was going through puberty again."Could you hand me a towel?" Ginny said, and Harry forced his eyes to her face. "Did you look your fill? Or would you like me to turn about?"Harry bit his lip and closed his eyes at the thought of that. She was gorgeous from the front, and it might just drive him completely mad to see her from behind."A towel?" Harry muttered. "Yes, a towel would be good. I think I'll get a towel."Harry turned around and grabbed a towel off the rack behind the door. Harry stiffened when he heard the low whistle Ginny let escape, and the blush on his face deepened."Nice arse, Harry," Ginny said as he whirled around. "Very fit.""This is embarrassing," Harry muttered, trying not to look at Ginny. "Here's your towel."He closed his eyes and heard a slight rustling. Harry ran a hand through his hair and then he felt it—a cool hand on his chest, a fingernail raked against his skin, and his eyes flew open."Harry," Ginny said, grinning up at him. He could feel her wet skin as she stepped closer to him. "I know we decided to take a break, but I was thinking…"Harry swallowed hard as Ginny ran her fingers down the middle of his chest to linger on his hip."Thinking?" Harry asked. "How can you think? It's bloody hot in here and in case you missed it we're both naked."Ginny chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief, as she leaned forward to press a kiss against his neck."Yes," Ginny sighed. "I realize we're naked and I also realize it's your birthday."Harry’s breath caught in his throat as Ginny ran her hand down his hip, over his thigh and it came to rest right next to his swelling erection. Harry's cock immediately hardened completely and he bit back a moan of pleasure."Ginny, we can't. I won't take advantage and…" Harry's voice trailed off as Ginny's mouth moved down his chest. "Ginny—"Harry's hands fell on her shoulder, and he shuddered at the contact with her bare skin. He was trying to be noble, trying to be a good man, and trying to keep his promise to himself to keep her safe. He was failing horribly. He wanted to touch her, taste her, and he wanted to feel her mouth under his. It wouldn't be fair to take advantage of her.Harry was shaken out of his thoughts by the feeling of Ginny's mouth on his stomach. She was pressing open mouth kisses there, tracing his belly button with the tip of her tongue, and Ginny was sliding lower. He wasn't sure when she'd fallen to her knees, but before his mind could process that fact she'd taken him in her mouth."Ginny, damn it you have to stop—" Harry moaned weakly and tangled his hands in her hair. "Please."Ginny merely looked up at him )and sucked his length from tip to base. Harry's hands tightened in her hair and he felt his knees grow weak from the sensation. No one had ever touched him like this and it was more than he had imagined."Oh fuck," Harry muttered as he felt her tongue flicking against his shaft. "Ginny…brilliant…Merlin…can't…"Harry's hips began moving as she bobbed her head along his length. Ginny was watching him and gauging his reactions. Harry couldn't think, he could only feel, and when she slid her hand to cup his balls he whimpered.It seemed to spur Ginny on and her motions along his shaft increased. Her mouth was so hot and wet that he couldn't stand it. Harry could feel his stomach clenching and the heat in his limbs was spreading directly to his groin. When she sucked hard on the tip of his cock he tried to grunt out a warning that he was going to come, but he could only moan.Harry whispered her name as he came and he watched as she tried to swallow all of him. Ginny stayed with him, lapping at his shaft, until his knees gave out. She released him and he sank onto the floor.Ginny leaned in and kissed him, thrusting her tongue between his parted lips, and Harry could taste himself there. He moaned softly and all too soon she pulled away."Save a dance for me, Harry, " Ginny smirked and stood up. "Oh, and Happy Birthday."Ginny was out the door before he could respond; and as he started the shower up, Harry thought that perhaps he would have to return the favor tonight at the wedding. After all it was his birthday
10773930	Big Bad Wolf	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Erica Reyes, Allison Argent", "Fandom": "Teen Wolf (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Kalira", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-16T00:00:00", "words": "6,100", "Additional Tags": "Wolf Derek, Anchors, Werewolf Hunters, Angst, Humor, Inspired by Music, Implied Allison Argent/Scott McCall/Erica Reyes, Non-Graphic Violence, Non-graphic death, Non-Graphic Body Disposal", "Relationship": "Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Derek let out an unintentional howl as a fiery stab of pain dug into his chest. Dart, he thought, snarling as he dragged himself back under control, clenching his jaws. And then he remembered the warning Stiles had given them all.The cocktail in the darts these hunters were using was designed to wreck control and jack up adrenaline, at least, and Stiles hadn’t been able to tell him what else but he’d looked - and smelled - worried. It hadn’t been reassuring; Stiles was usually pretty reliable with his information if it was available at all, and more unsettling, he’d been angry at his own lack of information, not just frustrated.All he’d been able to say for sure was that the dart might be enough to kill a mortal; a werewolf would probably only be knocked into their shifted form. Only.Knocked into shifted form and- and-Something else, but Derek couldn’t remember the rest of what Stiles had said, his head muddled and his wolf howling. His muscles burned surrounding the place the dart had pierced. His nose stung from the assault of scents that suddenly seemed a dozen times stronger, and Derek couldn’t get his bearings.He clawed for his anchor, and snarled, pain lashing through him as he dragged up agonising memories to fuel the anger.It wasn’t working, Derek could feel himself slipping away as he snarled and swiped his claws at the attackers. Stiles had taken a good fifteen minutes sidetracking to talk about the stupidity of this plan from the hunters’ side, Derek thought vaguely, before that thought was gone too.Why was the anger not working? “Oh, baby brother, but it’s been a long time since the anger really worked, hasn’t it?” Derek froze, his heart clenching. He spun towards the low voice. “Come on, think. You can do it. My sweet baby brother.” Laura said, fading into view, her eyes glowing in sharp relief, like they had used to. The way their mother’s used to look. Derek’s throat tightened painfully. “You have a new anchor, it isn’t just gone. Anger was never a good anchor for you anyway.” She frowned slightly. “It worked.” Derek said hollowly, wrapping his arms around himself. “It held you back, instead of grounding you.” Laura scolded, shaking her head, her long hair ruffling where it fell over her shoulders. “An anchor is to keep your heart whole, and your mind in control, not to drag you down.” “I have to be-” “Don’t you dare tell me you need to be forced down!” Laura snarled at him, and Derek fell back, ducking his head. He might be an alpha now, but Laura was still his big sister. Derek flexed his fingers, bones aching. “Think, baby brother,” Laura said, gentle but firm, “something that makes you happy and calm, instead of hurting too much to change. Surely your life isn’t all strife now?” she was almost coaxing, her still-red eyes hopeful as she kept his gaze. A reel of his life since returning to Beacon Hills played in Derek’s mind and he dearly wished he could offer something more positive to his sister, but no, mostly it was strife. Supernatural and not, this town was. . . Hell. At least for him. “Oh, Derek.” Laura sighed. “Poor brother. But you do have a new anchor. The anger isn’t working, so find the thing that does. You have to, or this will eat you.” She gestured, and Derek got a glimpse of the world he’d left behind when Laura walked into view. Hunters, fighting, Derek saw himself looking half-crazed - ’nobody on upstairs’ floated through his mind in Stiles’ voice - and tearing through anything that came close enough, enraged. He flinched, watching a man fall to the ground in several pieces. It faded away again, and Derek shook his head. “I have to- I have to do something!” It was his body, his wolf, doing that, and he. . . “You have to find your focus. You can’t stop it without finding your anchor. You can’t find who you were supposed to be without it!” Laura snapped, lifting her jaw, staring him down expectantly. “I will not allow the last of the Hales to be this, baby brother. You were made to be strong. Our family is strong. This is not how that works.” she finished more gently, as Derek began to cry. “I can’t- I was never-” Derek had never been alone before, he’d grown up as a cub in the centre of a large, stable pack. His family. The years without them, with only Laura and then with no one . . . he hadn’t ever grown used to it, had no idea how to ground himself without them. When he was young his anchor was his family, and when he grew older it still was - it was just the agony of losing them and the fury for the one who took them, now. Or it- It had been. “Please, Laura.” he begged. He didn’t know what to do. “I can’t fix this, baby brother.” Laura said, her face conflicted and sorrowful. “You have to do it. But you aren’t alone, even without us, are you?” she asked softly, stretching out a hand to him, though she stopped before coming close enough to make contact. Derek thought of them. Erica, fierce and feisty and playful. Boyd, a steady and silent presence. Isaac, broken and angry but also so very, terribly young. Scott, a more foolish adolescent wolf than he thought any of their family had been. The sometimes-ally of Allison Argent, brought along with Scott, to Derek’s continuing unease, even after getting to know her. Stiles, who had no reason to be looking out for wolves or. . . No reason but his loyalty to Scott, Derek reminded himself. And Stiles was a stubborn bastard. And loyal, had even refused to abandon Derek in the past when doing so would have guaranteed his own survival. Derek shook his head, feeling something buzzing at the edges of his consciousness - he realised a moment later that it might be. . . Something from his body, maybe, something happening to him while he was wherever this was? “Trust yourself, little brother.” Laura said with conviction, catching his gaze as soon as he looked up again. “Find your anchor. You will be so much happier once you can let us go and look forward, Derek.” she said softly. Derek wasn’t sure how much ‘forward’ there was for him to focus on, though he supposed he had Scott to continue shepherding through ‘werewolf lessons’ if he would continue on the way he did, and his other young wolves if they stayed with him, and Beacon Hills to look after in general. At least it was easier now; the police no longer looked straight at him every time something went wrong - Derek suspected Stiles had talked with his father and somehow eased that, but he had no proof - and Chris Argent was the only proper hunter left in town. He was decent enough to coexist with, if alarming - his daughter’s arguments had helped sway him, but his own moral code was easier for Derek to trust in. And Derek did have something approaching a pack again, strange as it was. The buzzing returned, and a weak shading of what Derek thought was reality began to filter through in his vision. Hunters, he thought. Certainly there were no other werewolves around him . . . well, that was good. He could only have hoped they’d run. Derek might attack them, in this state, if he couldn’t get control back . . . and he’d been affected long enough that he could have already. Most of the hunters were dead - or down, at least. Derek wished he could be optimistic enough to think that they were just down, but his feral self. . . A flash of red that wasn’t bloody crimson in the dark fractured Derek’s focus as he was watching himself move, and he realised with a drop in his stomach that Stiles was still there. Not close enough - yet? - for Derek to reach, but the hunters . . . and Derek would be a threat if Stiles came closer and Stiles might not think so and Derek could hurt him and he fought with himself. Stiles was pack - or near enough, he wasn’t a wolf but no he was still pack and Derek couldn’t face it if- “Get away from its teeth!”Derek’s jaws snapped closed on - his nose wrinkled in distaste - someone’s wrist, filthy with gun oil and something that burnt his tongue. He dropped it hurriedly, sticking his tongue out as he tried to spit, spinning and finding-Derek stumbled, startled to find himself on all fours, but he wasn’t down he was. . .Wolf. Full wolf. Like Laura. Like mom. The thought barely flashed through his mind before-Derek was frozen, stunned, but a warning cry got him moving again. Stiles’ voice - why hadn’t he run, stupid breakable human he was going to get himself killed, fuck, Derek could have killed him before he’d come back to himself. Could have come back to himself to find Stiles bleeding out into the dirt like this squad of hunters.Derek’s heart wrenched and his lips pulled back a little more over his teeth as he snarled.They were terrified, these men, even the one who kept calling the shots, moving just a little too fast - and too cleverly - for Derek to catch him. Derek lunged, launching himself at the nearest and crunching the stock of his dart gun - why was he still using that? - on his way down on top of the man.He stopped moving once on the ground, though he was still breathing, and Derek left him and moved on, taking down the other - his body ached, and it was . . . unfamiliar, the way he felt and the way he moved, but the hunters weren’t putting up much of a fight any more.They were tired and injured already, of course, and Derek’s feral state seemed to have left them panicked - idiots, hadn’t that been what their drug cocktail was designed to do? Probably, Derek realised as he slowed, no more enemies to fight, his full wolf form had frightened them too. They might not have been prepared for that.Derek looked around, taking in the wreckage - carnage - and wondering if any of the hunters had fled. He paced a little. He couldn’t remember how many there had been, his memory of the battle was incredibly weak and sketchy even before he’d been lost in his head. He wasn’t sure how many were still here, bloody on the ground, either. He dipped his head, eyes closing. His breathing stuttered and he whined, trembling all over.Scott wasn’t here in the mess, whole or injured, so he must have fled after all. Boyd had probably gone with him. They were the only ones who had been here, so at least his pack was safe - from the hunters, from him.Derek breathed deeply, eyes still closed, catching the slightly spicy-sweet scent of something solid and. . .“Hey there, big bad wolf,” a soft voice murmured, no fear, no fear, “it’s okay. It’s okay.”Derek opened his eyes, blinking confusion away. He opened his mouth to speak and realised it felt . . . strange. What- He shook himself, and recognised Stiles in front of him, one hand coming to rest on his head, sliding down to his shoulder, lingering comfortingly. Stiles knelt down before him, and that was wrong, was strange. . .Derek’s head bowed a little as Stiles came close, and he saw paws - his paws - by Stiles’ knees. Wolf, he remembered. Full wolf. Who were you supposed to be, baby brother? Did you think it was only a tortured beta? Derek whined again, baring his teeth, and Stiles rubbed his shoulder with one light, confident hand. “Hey, no threats any more, Derek. It’s okay. Just you and me, big bad wolf.” he all but crooned. “No one’s gonna hurt you.”Derek lost the upset in surprise. Stiles’ amber eyes met his evenly, no hesitation. “I got you.” he soothed, rubbing Derek’s jaw, plucking away a scrap of something from his fur.Derek shuddered, lifting a sore paw off the jagged piece of metal he’d been standing on. Stiles rubbed the top of his head, gently plucking more little bloody scraps out of his fur. “It’s okay, big bad, we can figure it out. You’re safe.” Stiles murmured, though his eyes were darting around the clearing; still watchful, Derek realised. Not dropping his guard, though he wasn’t guarding against Derek.Derek actually felt safe, for a wonder, even here, with Stiles holding his head, kneeling before him, utterly unafraid. He breathed in the familiar spicy-sweet scent and pressed his muzzle to faded red fabric.Stiles laughed softly, the tone a little strange but still familiar, still Stiles, and gently wrapped an arm around his neck, steadying him as he leaned closer and just holding onto him. Snug and comforting, not too tight. Derek let himself take comfort in the companionable feel of the almost-hug, but only for a few moments before pulling away.He sat back, and as he did he melted into his human shape. He struggled to his feet, nose wrinkling at the feel of the blood and dirt on his skin, shivering at the chill in the air.Derek collapsed weakly before he quite got upright. As he went down, he expected to feel the harsh bite of the ground under his bare skin, or even discarded weaponry from the hunters. Instead, he felt soft fabric and the warmth of living flesh, though his knee had come down on what felt like something dead.Gentle hands smoothed over his shoulders again, this time without the fur, and Derek drew in a deep breath of Stiles’ scent as he realised his face was once more planted in a dull red hoodie. Stiles still wasn’t afraid.A soft hum, barely there, caught at Derek’s attention as he tried to fight the exhaustion and drag himself up, stop relying on this delicate, breakable human. It took him almost a full minute to recognise the tune as he fought his own body.Stiles was humming who’s afraid of the big bad wolf, the utter snot.Derek grinned and actually laughed into his chest, even while struggling to get up. “Hey, there you are, big bad.” Stiles murmured softly, breaking off his humming song, a smile in his voice. “Easy, easy. I figure it takes a lot to make you nosedive like that, let’s not push so hard it happens again.” He supported Derek with a firm grip on his arms, helping him get to his feet as he tried for it, despite the words.“There you are, baby brother. . .” Laura’s voice echoed in his mind and Derek’s throat tightened before he realised what she was saying.“My little wolfling.” that croon was his mother, and Derek froze. “Take what makes you strong, Derek. Don’t use us to hurt yourself any more.” A phantom brush of a strong hand across his brow.It was replaced by a real one, a cooler touch and bonier fingers, Stiles gently flaking blood off his face as it turned out. Derek stared at him.“Uh. . . Hello? Big bad wolf?” Stiles said uncertainly. “Derek, hey, anybody home? We should get out of here. I super do not want to be here when anyone else notices this mess, do you feel me?”“I- Yeah.” Derek said vaguely, breathing deeply, mostly catching Stiles’ scent still but now he wasn’t pressed snugly against the boy - man - also getting a thick lungful of the miasma of smells here; blood and fury and panic. Death. “You could have left me,” he said, looking around, “you didn’t have to-”Derek yelped as something pinched harshly over his hipbone. He looked at Stiles, shocked.“I know you’re not that much of an idiot, big bad.” Stiles said sharply, his bright eyes narrowed and fierce. “Now. Are we leaving, or are we waiting for someone to just wander through here by accident or call my dad about the weird noises?”“I. . .” Derek trailed off, and Stiles cocked his head impatiently. “Sorry. Yeah I. . .” He shuddered. “Let’s get out of here.”Stiles shuddered. “Hell yes.” He helped Derek pick his way through the mess of the aftermath, and Derek wondered anew, taking in the carnage he had wrought, how Stiles had been able to bring himself to stay while he was doing this. He swallowed down bile.Derek had been prepared to kill when he came out tonight, looking for the hunters, he’d had to be - but this wasn’t just killing. These men were shredded to bloody, wrecked pieces and had been sick with fear before they died. Derek’s pure wolf side had been crazed with the drug and enraged at the hunters and-“Hey! You, uh, okay?” Scott asked, stumbling a bit as he dropped down the slope towards the path Stiles had been leading Derek down.“Yeah.” Stiles answered for him, which was great, because Derek wasn’t sure what he would have said. He’d been shot, beaten, drugged, spoken with his sister, shifted into wolf shape, gone feral, had his anchor ripped away from him and another to find. . .Derek shook his head to himself, shuddering. Stiles squeezed his arm reassuringly.“Be a bit of a crummy fit, but there’s spare clothes in my Jeep.” he said quietly. “And a blanket. You can at least wrap up in that until we get you back home.”Derek had forgotten. That was . . . good. He had been trying not to think about his state of undress, and successfully avoiding thinking about how he was going to get back to the house. He’d forgotten Stiles had hidden his Jeep not far off.Getting to it proved a little tricky, as they had to slip deeper into the woods - Derek was weak and clumsy, and Stiles, he figured, couldn’t really see as they moved deep enough that the trees were cutting off the light of the moon. The flashlight Stiles had brought was pretty dim, flickering as though it had been damaged, and illuminated only a small patch.Boyd caught up to them not far from the Jeep. He looked them over worriedly, and Derek growled softly, a reassuring rumble. Boyd nodded, looking more settled. “Chased after two that made a break for it. One tumbled down a ravine, think he broke his neck. The other.” he flexed his hand, claws extending and then retracting to a human hand again.“All right. Good.” Derek said vaguely. “Back to the house. We’ll leave the hunters for- for now, at least.” He wasn’t sure what they could do with the men, really.Boyd and Scott both nodded, and Stiles frowned, pausing just as they reached the clearing where his Jeep was parked. Isaac was already there, to Derek’s relief, looking mostly fine, though perhaps a little rumpled and bruised, like both of the other wolves.Derek knew he looked much worse, himself.“If their equipment was cleared away - or most of it - they would probably look like they were caught by wild animals.” Stiles said, still frowning. “Especially if they were more spread out. Not ideal - there’ll be a panic again - but I don’t think we can just get rid of all of them, either.” He climbed up and leaned through into the back of the Jeep.Derek knew he should be thinking of something to help, or offering input, but he was struggling just to stay on his feet, even leaning against Stiles’ Jeep.“Can spread out the bodies.” Boyd volunteered a suggestion.“Could burn some of them and leave the others?” Isaac added, eyes darting worriedly towards Derek. He tried to haul himself up a little more, look more stable.Stiles paused, face thoughtful. “That and most of their heavy-duty stuff hidden, probably. See how it looks; only burn them if you have to, tonight. Just some out of town idiots who died in the woods.” He sounded practical and confident. “Can you do that and not get caught?” he demanded.Boyd nodded, catching Scott by the back of the neck - he’d been about to climb into the back of Stiles’ Jeep with whatever Stiles still had thrown back there from what he’d packed for tonight’s plan. “We’ll go.” Isaac nodded agreement.“Aw, but- Fine, okay.” Scott huffed. “We’ll take care of it, Stiles, don’t worry.”“Don’t be dumb.” Stiles ordered, and Boyd gave a glare that would have made Stiles backtrack months ago, but now only made him laugh. “Be careful. Come back to the house as soon as you can.” It was what Derek would have said, roughly, if he’d been able to find that much sense through the spinning in his head.Scott nodded, and Boyd simply headed back into the woods at a light jog. Isaac came closer, brushing a hand against Stiles’ back and pausing near Derek - he rested a hand on Isaac’s shoulder, squeezing firmly and feeling him calm - before running off after the older wolves.Derek moved carefully around Stiles’ Jeep towards the passenger side as he leaned into the back again, and a moment later Stiles tossed out a bundle of cloth - blanket, jacket, three tee shirts - why? - a pair of jeans-“Were you planning to go camping?” Derek asked as he sorted through the bundle in the passenger seat and decided on keeping to just the blanket. He needed to clean up and none of the clothes would fit him anyway.“If you lived my life you would keep a good number of spares handy too.” Stiles advised, tossing the clothes into the back of the Jeep again when Derek declined them and settling into the driver’s seat. “Comfy?” he asked.Derek winced as he settled himself as comfortably as he could. “Yes.”Stiles nodded, started up his miraculously-still-running rattletrap, and headed out of the woods with an ease borne of far too many moonlit trips out there. Then again, this was the same Stiles who had decided to traipse into the woods looking for a dead body before he’d even known about werewolves, much less gotten . . . involved.Derek relaxed as Stiles’ Jeep rattled along, its mechanical noises joined occasionally by Stiles’ rambling, apparently not caring about the lack of replies. He was . . . tired, and he was safe enough here to close his eyes and trust Stiles to get him home.He thought about his sister, what she’d said. He felt guilty at the accusation from her - guilty and pained. That he had somehow been using the agony thinking of his family brought to punish himself, twisting the anchor they had always been for him.How had he not realised that his anchor had changed, though, Derek wondered? And what. . .His new pack, makeshift and strange as it was?A light touch brushed his arm, and Derek took a breath, opening his eyes again.“Hey big bad.” Stiles said, and Derek glanced at him. He cut the engine. “Back home again for you.” He hopped out of the Jeep and swung around the front bumper to open the door for Derek.Derek eyed him, but still accepted his support on climbing out of the Jeep, wobbling a little. He stifled a groan, his muscles aching.“Hurts?” Stiles asked, and Derek glanced at him, startled. “The drugs, Derek. I know you dealt with their effects, but you can’t just brush it off quite so easily. Even you. You’ll need to sleep it off, but that should be all it takes. I’d think you can’t feel that great right now.” He didn’t actually seem to be expecting an answer, just guiding Derek towards the house, which was still dark - the others weren’t back yet, either, then.Derek worried. He hadn’t wanted to send them off alone, but. . .“Oh no, you need to actually rest.” Stiles said, tightening his hold on Derek’s arm and turning him towards the corner bedroom. “. . .and get cleaned up, but you don’t need to be pacing around here. They’ll be back soon.”Part of Derek wanted to protest that, but he let Stiles have his way, rattling on about what he’d put together about the drug that had affected Derek and shoving him, blanket and all, into the bathroom.Derek was still shaky, but he was deeply grateful for the opportunity to get clean again. Although. . .He eyed himself in the mirror. No wonder Stiles was being so insistent, he thought vaguely; he looked awful, slightly pale and shocky, even worse somehow once he’d slowly, painstakingly scrubbed off the blood and dirt.Slow and stiff as he’d been moving, it still must have taken longer than he’d thought, although Stiles hadn’t poked his head in to check on him. Derek could hear Boyd coming in the front door, Scott talking to him. Isaac was quiet, but his footsteps were there too.“Anything that actually needs patching up, or are you going to be all right?” Stiles asked when he stepped out again, wearing a pair of pyjama pants. Derek frowned, and Stiles gently touched his chest, just shy of a slowly-healing bullet wound. “Injuries, big bad. I know you’re tough, but is there anything that needs dealing with?”“Oh. No.” Derek said, which he was mostly certain was true, anyway.“Great! I hate playing nurse.” Stiles said matter-of-factly. “Go on, go on, go on.” He actually flapped his hands at Derek. “Lie down, drink some water, general recovery stuff, you know the drill, man.” he said patiently, expectant.Derek snorted, but went, collapsing into his bed. His bones ached, even at the soft impact of settling onto his mattress. Stiles . . . might just have been right about heading straight to bed. Derek didn’t tell him so, but Stiles didn’t ever really need to be told.He’d left by the time Derek got himself comfortably resting in bed, and he figured Stiles had gone, at least back out to where the others were waiting for the rest of their little pack to return. Derek frowned, hoping their night had gone better than his, but then . . . it surely couldn’t have been such a mess, no matter what happened. Derek had thought they’d planned for all the likely possibilities from tonight’s confrontation - Stiles certainly had seemed to have - but evidently not. Not on Derek’s side, anyway. He shuddered.“Allison!” Scott’s voice, unsurprisingly delighted. It rang loud enough to make Derek focus on the chatter from the front room for a moment. “Erica! How did it go with the other hunters?” he asked, and Derek listened a little closer.“Well, they weren’t really thrilled to listen to me.” Allison said, with a fiercely irritated edge. “And the leader had some choice words for anyone listening to a female call any shots whatsoever. So I shot him, and then they called me a psycho bitch and wanted to call the cops-”“So naturally I had to punch some people.” Erica put in, with a sharp cackle.“So Erica punched some people,” Allison continued seamlessly, “and we had a bit more of a discussion before they said they thought their brother squad had the right idea and they were going to meet up and team up, but they ran afoul of my dad on the way out.”“Fuck, it was awesome.” Erica crowed, and Derek lost his focus on the conversation as Stiles came back towards him. He fretted a bit, leaning up, and-“Hey hey, stay down.” Stiles said, chiding, his tone soft enough it didn’t prickle Derek’s hackles. Concern, not a command. “Easy. You’re not in the best shape, big bad. You need to actually rest. Drink?” he offered, sitting down on the bed and holding out a glass.Derek accepted it, but- “The others are back. I need to-”“I’ll check.” Stiles said immediately, then stopped, only halfway back to his feet. “Or I suppose you need to hear the report yourself?”Derek hesitated. “I don’t have to.” he said - it was obvious, at least, that his pack were all right, from what he could hear. And it sounded as though Chris had dealt with the other hunters, even if only by running them out of town with the fear of god put in them. That might not have been his first choice, but it was . . . good.“Catwoman!” Stiles not-quite-yelled suddenly, and Derek startled. “Get your shapely, bitch ass in here!”Derek stared at him, but a moment later Erica stalked through the door. “Watch it, Batman.” she snapped, but she was grinning. “Put up or shut up.” She waggled her fingers at him. Then she looked at Derek and dipped her head, curls bouncing.“Nah, not tonight.” Stiles said playfully, settling back on the bed beside Derek.“What happened tonight, with you and Allison?” Derek asked her, and Erica nodded.“It could have gone better, but that was on them, not us.” Erica said, with a sharp little frown. “They didn’t want to listen to a ‘non-official’ hunter. They didn’t want to listen to a woman. They didn’t want to listen to anyone who wasn’t fuckin’ psycho on werewolves. They didn’t want to listen in general, feel me?”Derek snorted, a growl building in his throat, and Stiles took the glass of water out of his hand and lightly stroked his wrist.“We had a bit of a scuffle after that, Ally and I came out of it fine but some of them not so much,” Erica reported, eyes slightly unfocused as she thought, “Mr Argent showed up, turned out he did not in fact approve of their tactics even if he didn’t want to get involved, and possibly yelling insults at his daughter didn’t help.” She huffed, lips twitching as she shifted her weight. “Don’t know what exactly he did or how much, he asked us to leave him to talk with them after a few. They were scared twitchy, though.”“Serves them right.” Stiles said, with a low sound that was almost a growl of his own. Derek’s brows twitched as he eyed Stiles. He’d gone a bit stiff, almost like his hackles were prickled. Derek was a little amused.“Yeah, right?” Erica said with a snort and a roll of her eyes. “At the very least I saw a couple of their trucks on the way outta town already.” she added, looking back to Derek.“Thank you, Erica.” Derek said, smiling weakly at her. Erica nodded, looking between Derek and Stiles, then backed off.“You could probably ask Allison to check in with her dad, or . . . or ask him yourself, tomorrow or something, if you need to know what he told them?” Erica said from the doorway, and Derek nodded acknowledgement.Erica left them alone again, and the noise from the front of the house grew briefly louder once more, an insistent laugh and companionable chatter.“You can leave me, I’m fine.” Derek told Stiles, shifting without trying to get up. “I’ll rest, if that’s what you’re worried about.”“Not worried.” Stiles said, lips curled, shaking his head. “Here.” He offered the water back to him again. “Just making sure you’re settled and okay, and keeping you company, big bad wolf.”Derek swallowed, pausing with the glass almost to his lips. “I’m not Erica.” he said, frowning.Stiles’ eyebrows climbed. “Uh. . . No, that is in fact pretty obvious.” he said, showing no comprehension. “I know you got knocked for a loop - looked pretty bad there - but are you okay, Derek?” He leaned forwards, brushing his fingers over Derek’s brow.“I’m not Erica, I mean- Your- Your jokes and. . .” Derek frowned. He wasn’t sure what he meant. “The- I don’t know what you want me to call you, but it’s not- What, Little Red?” It felt bizarre and he swore never to say it again.Stiles was silent, and Derek blinked and looked up at him again. He had one hand clasped over his mouth. “Oh,” he dropped it, burbling with laughter, “oh Derek, your face. No, I didn’t really- Dude, you think I think about half of what comes out of my mouth?”Derek snickered at that before he could think better of it, but Stiles only gave him a smile for it, gentle as he reached out and touched Derek’s jaw this time.“If it bothers you, big bad, I’ll stop.” Stiles said, brushing his fingers up and along Derek’s hairline. “But no, I wasn’t waiting for you to, uh, reciprocate, or anything. It just came out. It fits somehow.” he said softly.“You don’t have to stop.” Derek said, not sure why, other than that it felt weird to stifle Stiles at all. He leaned back again, exhausted.“And for the record,” Stiles continued, “I think you know how to play just fine. Not like me and Erica, but to be frank that’s probably for the best anyway.”“Probably.” Derek snorted, closing his eyes. “You’re a nightmare, the pair of you. The world would implode if there were any more.” His lips curled fondly, and he startled as Stiles brushed a fingertip by one corner of his mouth. “Stiles?” He opened his eyes again.“Nothing.” Stiles said, with a slightly odd smile. “Big bad wolf.” he added lightly. “Sleep well.” He leaned forwards and kissed Derek’s brow, a tender and caring gesture he hadn’t expected, and Derek’s eyes widened.Stiles pulled away, smoothing out the blanket over Derek’s chest, and made to rise, but Derek caught his wrist. “Stiles.” he said, and amber eyes flicked to his, curious and nervous. Nervous now, Derek thought, where there hadn’t been so much as a flicker of hesitation in him to face down a bloody wolf bigger than he was that he’d had no way of knowing wasn’t still feral.Stiles tilted his head. “Do you need-”Derek pulled his arm, but gently, asking rather than forcing. Stiles still leaned back down easily under the tug, and Derek kissed him softly, tentative. Stiles’ breath caught, but he responded, just as soft. His lips were slightly chapped and raw in spots from being bitten, but warm and smooth all the same. Derek felt something almost click in his chest, like the one wrong note in a jangling melody coming into tune.Anchor, he realised, overwhelmed. That was his anchor settling into place in him. Not his new pack, only Stiles.“I was worried about you, Derek.” Stiles admitted, barely a breath against his lips. “You scared me. And I do not mean you scared me, I wasn’t- I was scared for you.” He frowned, distress showing in his eyes and the tension around them.“I’m sorry.” Derek said, and Stiles pinched his hip again, making him jump even though the sting was softer this time, with the blanket cushioning it. “I was scared too.” he admitted, a whisper barely loud enough to reach Stiles. “Thanks- You should have,” he said, “but . . . thanks for not leaving me.”“I never will.” Stiles scowled at him. “You know me better than to think I would just leave, not when you were alone and drugged and outnumbered.”“I do.” Derek admitted, somewhat surprised to realise it was true. “But I could-”“And you wouldn’t have hurt me.” Stiles said firmly, which was . . . true, maybe, though Derek hadn’t known it then. “I mean, I wasn’t going to be dumb,” he waved a hand, “but really.”“No, I- I suppose not.” Derek said, still struggling to figure out. . . “Not if I’m your big bad wolf, I guess.” he tried.Stiles made a little stifled noise almost like a giggle, and Derek flushed.Stiles stroked his cheek, a little like he’d stroked Derek’s shoulder earlier, when he’d been the wolf. “I like that.” Stiles said softly, his touch gentle as his hand slid up to ruffle Derek’s hair. “My big bad wolf.” he said, leaning close and kissing the tip of Derek’s nose. His eyes crossed, following Stiles’ movement. “Rest, okay, big bad?”“Right.” Derek agreed, relaxing his hold on Stiles’ wrist.“I’ll be back in the morning.” Stiles promised, and Derek sighed, his wolf whining pitifully - a needy protest - as Stiles rose to leave. He shushed it and told himself it would be fine, Stiles would be back soon, and he was right that Derek needed to rest. The evening had been . . . a hard one.“Derek.”He looked up; Stiles was standing in the doorway.“I’ll be up, I have some . . . things to look into after tonight. Call me if you . . . want to, big bad.” Stiles smiled at him, then slipped out the door, closing it gently.
10760934	avidity	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Kurosaki Ichigo, Abarai Renji", "Fandom": "Bleach", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by HaneGaNai (nezstorm)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-29T00:00:00", "words": "1,289", "Additional Tags": "Non-Explicit Sex, POV First Person", "Relationship": "Abarai Renji/Kurosaki Ichigo", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Warmth. That's the first word that came to my mind when his fingers began roaming over my body making my temperature rise with every inch they covered. His hand was so hot against my stomach, so unbearably hot. His body heat spread over me as he moved, my usually cool skin heating up rapidly under his ministrations. It was such a striking contrast I thought that my skin would melt beneath his touch. That if he kept caressing one spot over and over again soon his fingers would dip into my flesh to roam inside me. It's crazy, but man, how that image got to me. All of a sudden it felt as if his fingers traced over my ribs, just beneath the surface of my skin. I wanted him in me so bad that I didn't care how he got inside. I needed to make us one, to form some sort of connection. I wanted to feel him deep even for the briefest of moments. I craved, I longed, I wished, I could hardly contain myself and masked my impatience with sighs and moans returning the favor and tracing my fingers over his painted flesh. I learned him just as he learned me. I explored curves and dents, traced ink that marked soft skin and hard muscle. I teased him with gentle touches that were barely there. I memorized. Taking in all of the sounds he made, the way he flexed beneath my caress, how dark his eyes were as he watched me watch him. How his lips morphed into a smirk. How his wicked tongue swept along his lips stirring something inside of me and making me lurch forwards in an attempt to capture it. The way he tasted on my lips. I took it all in, every sensation, every feeling. I got so drunk on him I could hardly breathe. It was so intoxicating; he was so intoxicating that I feared the moment our mouth would have to part. And yet at the same time I wanted to feel his lips elsewhere as well; all over me, mapping my body just as he mapped the insides of my mouth. He merely entered me with his fingers and already I reached levels of pleasure I never knew before barely holding back the urge to yank at my vibrant spikes. As if the very fact that it was him doing that to me that caused tremors to run through my body. I cried out, squirmed and asked for more. It wasn't a plea. It was a demand and with a grin and a heavy kiss he obliged and filled me. And my cries of delight wouldn't end. It was lust at first sight; that's how I'll always remember it. It was passion born from a heated gaze and a curve to his lips. It was my eyes meeting endless brown spheres. It was me drowning, sinking in so deep that my voice wouldn't carry through. It was a spark of the likes of those that burnt cities down. It was us alone in the crowd. It was meant and always would be. We weren't two halves of a whole - we were two entities becoming one as the flame melted us down. He approached me at the bar when I was buying drinks. Nothing I haven't encountered before. But somehow he was different from all the previous guys. Maybe it was the way he formed words, or the vicious red of his hair. Or it might have been his deep, dripping voice. I swear, the moment he spoke a shiver run down my spine and my world swayed with me. He sounded like he could set me on fire with a murmur, with a single syllable. And he did. When he leaned it towards my ear and his hot breath washed over my skin I knew that that night would be forever burnt in my mind. I didn't know him. He said that it didn't really matter. It was the first time we really met yet the chemistry between us took us to bed soon enough. It surprised me how I never even thought of pushing him away, of saying 'no'. How I didn't have a problem with taking him home. I'm not the type to sleep around, I never were. I never even considered a one night stand, never crossed my mind. That was simply out of character for me. Yes, I am one of those who want to get to know a person first before getting it on. Yet I didn't question what we were about to do. I didn't even stop to reconsider. I was in too much of a hurry to get him naked and on top of me. Or any other way, I didn't really care. It wasn't a whim. It was so much more. There was this craving that fogged my mind, a voice that told me to never let him go. It was as if something possessed me. The need to taste and feel. His lips flirted with me, his eyes promised. He savored me as if I were that dish that he spent millions on. Synchronized. Our movements were. And our breaths and heartbeats beating in tandem. When he pushed forwards I pressed down; when he withdrew I pulled back. An endless symphony of slick obscene sounds. He thrust; I moaned. And our voices disappeared in a passionate lock of lips and tongues. His gaze, his fingers, his lips, teeth and tongue. Him. So deep inside me that I couldn't tell us apart. We fit so well it scorched me inside. It made me want to show him all of me, to give him my whole. To open up and let him eat me out, take me in like no one else before. I felt a bond between us; I felt the urgency that we both shared. Urgency to combine in a single body, in a form that would allow us to never break apart. I held onto him, keeping him close as we moved, yet he was still too far even if we were skin to skin. No matter how I tried I could limit the space between us only that much. It physically hurt; the way we were so close, but not close enough. I moaned and clawed; he growled and sped up in reply. And way too soon a supernova exploded before my eyes and for a breathtaking moment I flew. He joined me soon in our bliss kissing me like a starved man. It was mind-numbing. Overwhelming to the point where I couldn't utter a word. I just lay there, my mind fogged and vision blurry still riding the intense sensations he caused. Bathing in the aftermath that I wished would never end. Or that would be repeated soon. It was only when I felt him stir that I realized that he was still sheathed in me. That we were still meshed. Joined in more ways than one. I was reluctant to let him go when his warmth still seeped through me so I held onto him even if my limbs protested as I moved. It was a loose hold, he spent me completely, yet he kept still. Well, as still as you can while mouthing over someone's skin. It was a soft caress, a touch that was barely there as he slid from my shoulder, over my throat and to the corner of my lips. Our eyes met and I asked despite the fact that I already knew the answer I'd receive. His gaze told more than any words could carry. "Will you stay the night?" And the night after that, all the nights to come?
10722651	Tacos Pancakes	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": null, "Characters": "Captain Hook \| Killian Jones, Snow White \| Mary Margaret Blanchard, Emma Swan, Prince Charming \| David Nolan", "Fandom": "Once Upon a Time (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by starrnobella", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-24T00:00:00", "words": "935", "Additional Tags": "Extended Scene, The Pancake Scene", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Captain Hook \| Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Prince Charming \| David Nolan & Snow White \| Mary Margaret Blanchard", "Series": "Written in the Stars", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "F/M, Multi", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	"Snow, you could have a least waited for me before you went barging inside," Charming said pulling the door to Emma and Hook's house shut behind him as he entered. He was greeted by Snow shushing him as Emma was talking on the phone."Alright, we'll be there soon." He heard her say before she hung up the phone. He quirked his brow as he exchanged a glance with Snow before directing his attention to Emma."Good morning, Emma," he said with a smile. "Who was that?""Regina. She's meeting us at the station. I'll be ready in fifteen," Emma said as she spun on her heels and went upstairs mumbling something under her breath.After watching her walk away, Charming noticed Snow biting her lower lip as she flipped idly through the wedding binder she had brought with her this morning. He placed a gentle hand on the small of her back drawing her attention from the pictures up to his face. He raised his brow slightly, eliciting a deep sigh from Snow."What's wrong?" he asked curiously."I think I interrupted something this morning," Snow admitted softly as she rested her head against Charming's chest. He wrapped his arm around her tighter and placed a gently kiss on the top of her head."What do you mean, you think?" he laughed slightly.She tried to bury her head deeper into his chest before she smacked him for laughing at her. "When I came barging in, it looked like Emma and Hook were in the middle of something. Emma swears they were just making some pancakes, but they way the separated when I came in and the slightly irritated look on Hook's face when he saw me…" Snow babbled on."Emma was making Hook pancakes? I wonder if she used nutmeg," Charming said as his mind drifted off to the thought of the delicious breakfast food for a few moments only to brought back to the present when Snow smacked his chest slightly harder than she had done before. "What?""That's not the point! I think I interrupted something they didn't want me to see.." Snow admitted."What were they doing?" Charming asked in an attempt to appease his wife. However, if she was going to keep beating around the bush, then they would never get to the point of her story.Snow rolled her eyes and huffed, "Do you remember when Emma and Henry walked in on us making tacos?"A stupid smile appeared on his face as he remember what exactly he and Snow had been doing just seconds before Emma and Henry walked in, but that smile quickly faded as the realization washed over his face."You mean they were?" Charming stuttered.Snow bit her lip to keep from laughing as she nodded her head. She watched as Charming scrubbed his hands over his face muttering incoherently under his breath.. . . . . . . .By the time Emma had gotten upstairs, Killian had already showered and was finishing up the last few buttons on his vest. She bit her lip as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned up against the door frame."Hey," she said softly. Killian looked over at her over his shoulder and smiled at her.He couldn't deny how good she looked in his robe as he eyes travelled from her head to her toes. Regardless of what he had told Snow, his appetite truly wasn't lost and his shower had done nothing to help curb anything. If only her mother wasn't just downstairs."Hey yourself," he replied.Smiling she walked over to his side and wrapped her arms around his neck placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. He turned so her body was flush up against him as he wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her in close. She nuzzled her head against his shoulder and sighed."I wish we hadn't been interrupted," she whispered.He looked down at the top of her head and pressed his lips to it gently as he nodded his head. "Aye, love. I feel the same way."She pulled away and slid up to her tiptoes pressing her lips to his briefly leaving a smile on each of their faces as she lowered herself back down. "I need to grab a quick shower and get dressed. We need to meet Regina at the station," she said pulling away from him."Why?" Killian began to ask, but stopped himself and shook his head. "Nevermind. I've learned it's better not to ask. By the way, how come I wasn't informed on your mother having a key to our house?"He raised his brow as he waited for her answer. An innocent smiled played at her lips in the hopes that being cute would get her out of the hot water she was about to step into."Because I gave it to her in case of an emergency," she admitted quickly wincing slightly as she waited for his response.Killian nodded his head slowly as he thought about what she had just said. "So what emergency constituted her visit this morning?""Wedding plans…" Emma replied quickly as she dashed to the bathroom and closed the door quickly behind her, "I really need to get ready though. We can talk more about it later, okay? I love you!"Killian laughed and shook his head. "What am I marrying into?" he mumbled under his breath as he finished getting ready before heading back downstairs to get on with the day. A day he was sure to be filled with his soon-to-be mother and father in-law.
10757847	Cause life is contagious	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Luna (The 100), Raven Reyes, Clarke Griffin, John Murphy (The 100)", "Fandom": "The 100 (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by X_Floukru_X", "chapters": "2/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-29T00:00:00", "words": "2,746", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": "Luna/Raven Reyes", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Luna sat at the edge of the swimming pool at Becca Promheda's mansion, her feet dangling loosely in the water. The water was cool to the touch. It would slap up against the sides of the pool in the area that she was sitting in every time she would sway her legs back and forth. Sure it wasn't the salty ocean waves, but this was still extremely refreshing. Water was water. And the Floukru leader wasn't protesting. Back at the oil rig, she would spend countless hours in the sea, regardless the temperature. She closed her eyes, and took in a breath of the crisp evening air. For the first time in awhile, she felt composed and relaxed. The burden of the death of her people and Adria seemed to subside briefly. Soft-spoken words of Trigedasleng flowed seamlessly, mixing in with the breeze. Luna heard footsteps paddling softly behind her, making there way towards her, and breaking her mediation. "You know, the key thing with the element of surprise is not for the other person to know that you're coming." She replied, smirking faintly, already knowing who the person was. "Eh." The person shrugged, "Maybe I'm getting rusty." A rare smile spread across the women's face. It was Raven. "I'd thought I'd find you here. Mind if you have some company?" Luna returned her smile, and glanced up, patting the smooth concrete floor next too her. The brunette took the offering and crouched down, taking the spot next to the other woman. "I'm surprised how long you could stay out here." She commented, shifting her leg so she could sit more comfortably. "I swear if you're out here any longer, you'd be considered a fish." She smirked, teasingly. Luna shook her head, a light hearted laugh escaping her lips. Her curls fell in her face slightly as she did so. "Hmm? I doubt that." "Hey, I'm just telling you how it is!" Raven exclaimed, raising her hands up in defense. "I swear you could see gills starting to form." She replied. Luna rolled her eyes at the other girls teasing, a faint smirk crept on her face. "You should put your feet in." She said, referring to the water and brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. "It'll help." She added, glancing at Raven's leg then back towards her with soft hazel eyes. Luna always had been observant, and noticing the way she was sitting, Raven probably wasn't in the most satisfying position. She was slightly tense, her hand rested on her leg brace, every so often she would fidget with it. Even if Raven was in a playful mood, the Natblida saw through her mask. She was hiding her discomfort well, but the look in her eyes gave it away. If that had been anyone else, the Raven Reyes Pride would kick in and she'd snap at the person, telling them that she was fine and to lay off. Numerous occasions she would brush their concern away, not liking the fact that she seemed 'weak' or 'incapable'. Hell, she was anything but that. She had a fierce and stoic nature, a fire burned inside her. And she would be damned if that fire got extinguished because of some leg injury. Raven sighed softly, nodding reluctantly. Her fingers glided over the hinges of the brace, snapping them off. With some effort, she pulled it off and placed it on the ground next to her. Once that was done, her shoes soon followed in it's place. She rolled up her pant legs just below her knees and placed them in the awaiting water. "Jesus!" The mechanic crused, scrunching up her nose once she made contact with the pool. "How are you not frozen?!" Luna watched drolly as Raven squirmed slightly, amused by her actions. "It's not that bad." She teased, nudging her shoulder with her own. "You'll get used to it." "Says the one who's the miracle of the sea..." She grumbled under her breath, frowning slightly as she moved her legs through the chilly liquid in attempt to warm up. "I'd bet you'd be the same way if you were to go all the way in the pool." "Careful." Luna warned at Raven's words. "It's dangerous to challenge me." A sly smile appeared, a hint of mischievousness shown in her eyes. An eyebrow was raised. "Yeah?" Raven moved closer, opposing her exhortation. "Maybe I want a challenge." The Floukru leader didn't hesitate as she effortlessly dove into the water. She swam briskly underneath the surface for a brief period of time. She emerged, coming up for air. She pushed her wet mane of curls out of her face, as she locked eyes with Raven. Goosebumps were visible on her skin as the result of the sudden temperature change, but other than that there was no clear sign of being cold. Raven opened her mouth to say something, wanting to boast how she was right but she quickly closed it, realizing that wasn't the case. "I can get quite competitive." Luna spoke, bobbing easily in the water, beaming at Raven. "When I would train in Polis, Lexa and I would always be driven to try and surpass one another for fun." She explained. "We would always try and challenge even the simplest of things." It was a bittersweet moment, reminiscing the old memories of her friend. Raven smiled warmly at the other girl's words, happy to hear that Luna was comfortable sharing a bit of her past with her. She could just imagine the two Natblidas training vigorously, competition flowing in their veins. "Bet you have some killer stories. You have to share some with me sometime." "Sha, of course." She nodded. "I'm sure Clarke would want to hear some as well." The two girls didn't talk to much after that, but they really didn't need to, they both knew that. Just being in each other's presence was enough. They both grown to have a unsuspecting closeness towards one another, relishing moments that they shared together. They both seemed to level each other out. Luna's calm and nonchalant nature seemed to always counterbalance Raven's fiery and sassy one. She always knew how to pacify Raven to a state of tranquility. * By the time the sun was setting, the sky was painted an array of pink, orange and yellow, the clouds held the promise of a calm, peaceful night, and the pale glow of the moon was beginning to show. The leftover rays of the sun reflected off of the water, making it glisten around Luna. She was floating on her back, the sun highlighting her goddess-like features. "You're staring." "Huh? Oh! Yeah, I was just...uh," The brunette struggled getting her words out. A pink tinge flushed her cheeks. "I was thinking. My mind was wondering..." A strange look was exchanged, with a hint of worry. "No! Nothing bad, my brain's in check." A humourless laugh crackled softy. "I was just lost in admiration. The view is breathtaking." Her voice hitched, realizing the slip up. "Erm, the sunsut is I mean." She swallowed. "Don't you think?" "It is." Came the short reply. Silence. Raven waited, seeing if their would be more to the response. More silence. Worry started to set in. Did she notice her slip? Raven eyed Luna, attempting to get a read on her, but it was no use. There was only an inexpressive expression. She wasn't even glancing in her direction. It seemed like ages until Luna then moved over towards Raven, lifting herself out of the pool, taking a spot next to her. Water dripped freely off of her skin and hair, landing softly on the pavement. "You should join me." She murmured, resting her head on the other girls shoulder, not caring if she was drenched. An arm snaked loosely around Raven's waist. "I'm, uh perfectly fine here." Raven managed to get out, eyeing the pool. She shivered from the coolness of Luna's touch. "Mhmm." Luna hummed in disapproval. "I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Reiven." Luna uttered quietly in her ear, her Trigedasleng accent slipping slightly. Before Raven could even process what was going on, strong arms wrapped tightly around her waist, taking her with them and plunging into the water. Raven gasped, taking a huge breath of air once they both emerged. "Luna!" She yelled, her body still in shock of what just happened. The Floukru leader still held on to her protectively, her brown-mahogany orbs scintillated with a mischievous glint, glowing with humor and playfulness that never seem to escape. A soft smile crept apon the mechanic's face as she watched the emotion that was radiating off of Luna. It was too alluring to be angry, she was beautiful. But the moment was short lived, because realization then hit Raven like a ton of bricks. She couldn't swim. Panic slowly flooded over her as she kicked her legs. She couldn't touch the bottom. She writhed, struggling. She clasped on Luna, trying her best not to fully go into an anxiety attack. "Raven, It's alright. Shhh... breathe." Luna said, trying to gain ahold of her attention, while making sure they both stayed afloat. "I've got you." The words were like silk as she began to comfort the other woman. She began to slowly calm down after some time, her body becoming less strained. "Sorry I," Raven averted her glaze. "I can't swim." A hand cupped Raven's face and made her look up. "I know you couldn't skaigada." A smile was visible. "That's why I'm going to teach you." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "Ugh! This is never going to work!" Came an annoyed and frustrated reply. Raven stood there in the shallow end of the pool, her left hand gripped onto the edge while her right balled up into a fist. Loose pieces of hair had escaped her ponytail, falling in her face. She crossed her arms as she shifted her weight slightly. Surely it was a strange feeling not to have her leg brace on, but because of being in the water, there wasn't a lot of pressure. Which was a great relief. But she wasn't at all mad about that, it was swimming. It definitely wasn't her strong point. Being covered in grease and having a wrench? She could handle that no problem. Being in a body of water with no clue how to swim? Yeah, she was undeniably out of her comfort zone. The two girls had been at this for what seemed like forever, and no matter what she did, swimming was not in the mechanic's favor. Whatever techniques Luna made her do, gravity had other plans. It frustrated her to no end. Luna was a few feet away, watching intently. Her eyes filled with amusement as a small smile spread across her face. She was not surprised by the other girl's actions. She knew that things would often frustrate Raven if they weren't going the way she had planned. "I used to teach the children back at Floukru how to swim." She explained. There was a twinge of sadness that pained her heart as she recalled the memory, but she didn't let it show. The past was the past. "You're actually doing pretty well." Raven let out a sigh and frowned. "Yeah, sure I am." "Here." Luna approached her, arms outstretched. "Let's try another technique." Curiosity washed over Raven as she raised her eyebrow. She was skeptical. It wasn't that she doubted Luna's abilities to teach, that wasn't it. What if swimming just wasn't in her nature? Nothing seemed to be working anyway. "Like what?" She asked as she took ahold of Luna's hand. The Floukru leader left the question go unanswered as she gently pulled Raven closer, placing her free hand on her back. She gave Raven's hand a light squeeze. "You're tense. Relax." "What's the technique?" She asked impatiently waiting, eager to know what it was. She wanted to get it done and over with. "Relax Reiven." Luna ordered, her voice was gentle but firm. "yu souda chil au." Raven took a slow, deep breath, obeying her wish. The smooth words of Trigedasleng for which Luna spoke seemed to always have an extraordinary soothing affect on her. "Good." Luna muttered softly, praising the girls actions. Her thumb ran tenderly acrossed the back of Raven's hand for a brief moment, showing her gratitude. "Now lean back." There was hesitation at first, an uncertainty about the request. But Raven nodded. She trusted Luna. Fingers still intertwined, she leaned back, her legs lifting up in the water. Raven felt Luna's hand resting under her back, keeping her from sinking underneath the water. She was floating. Well with Luna's help of course, but still. "I've never thought I would be floating." Raven exclaimed, jokingly. The word 'float' had double meaning to her and the rest of Arkadia, thankfully this wasn't the other. "You're doing great." "That's only because you're helping me." Raven pointed out, glancing at her. Luna smirked and shook her head. "Not quite." Raven was about to ask what she had meant but she didn't have too. Luna had risen both of her hands out from the water, making them visible. She was staying afloat on her own! "I'm doing it! I'm actually doing it!" Raven cheered happily, overjoyed by her accomplishment. A smile was shared. "Yes, yes indeed." * "See that constellation there?" The two girls had decided that there was enough swimming for the night. Now they both layed on the ground, propped up against the side of the house, relaxing comfortably. They shared a towel that was loosely wrapped over them. It had been Raven's idea to stay out, not wanting to go inside just yet. Subconsciously, their hands managed to find their way intertwined, and Raven's head rested on Luna's shoulder. It was a cool, slightly breezy night; the swaying of trees and rustling of leaves could be heard but not seen, as the encompassing darkness had blotted out all but the faintest light. The stars stretched acrossed the sky, twinkling brightly, making their presence known. Small, dark, ash colored clouds surrounded the full moon. The mechanic had her finger pointed at the sky, towards the stars. "They make up the Little Dipper. See that star there?" She moved her hand slightly. "The brightest one? That's Polaris, or the North star." The Natbila listened attentively, absorbing the information that Raven gave, fascinated by it. She noticed how much Raven poured her heart and soul out while talking about the sky and the stars, how passionate she was. The one thing that made Luna overly content was to see that huge grin plastered across Raven's face as she talked. That grin that had been nonexistent for what seemed to be ages, only now had it emerged. Raven was truly in her happy place. And Luna understood that. "On the Ark, everything in space is easier to see, more beautiful. There was this meteor shower. It was absolutely amazing seeing it up close." There was a twinkle in her eye. "The shower is caused by streams of cosmic debris called meteoroids, which are from a comet. The comets are dirty snowballs, made up of rock embedded in ice. Each time it swings by the Sun in its orbit, some of its ice vaporizes and meteoroids will be shed, making a killer light show." Raven smirked as she explained, proud of her knowledge. But she then realized Luna probably wasn't at all interested in hearing facts about space. "Erm, sorry for my rambling, I sometimes get carried away..." She admitted sheepishly. "Shhh...." Luna muttered, dismissing her concerns. She pulled Raven closer, tightening her grip around her waist protectively. "You're fine." She replied as she closed her eyes and nuzzled her head against Raven. Raven was relieved that it was dark out, for which she had a faint blush that sneaked its way apon her cheeks. Thankfully, it didn't stay long. The Floukru and Skaikru women layed there, not speaking, snuggling against each other as they shared body heat. Content with one's company. Their breathing was in sync as they enjoyed this moment. Raven hadn't had another human showing her affection in what seemed like ages, and had almost forgotten what it felt like. She had missed it greatly. In this very moment in time, she wouldn't have it be anyone else. Luna was her safe place, she realized that now. And she was grateful for that.
10728108	Half Gods Among Hunters	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson, Oc-Seraphina, OMC, OFC, Mentions of Chiron", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by DemigodAssassin", "chapters": "2/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-25T00:00:00", "words": "5,035", "Additional Tags": "Season 1, Romance, slight angst, semi-good fight scenes, I can't write fight scenes, strong female character, Sarcasm, Hints of Persassy, Demons", "Relationship": "Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "percy jackson - Fandom, Supernatural", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	I was scanning the closet in my dorm trying to find my costume for Halloween since Jess, Luis, Sam, and I were going out to celebrate Sam getting an amazing LSAT score. “Yes!” I yelled as I found l my costume. I took out the Greek chiton with a owl clasp on the base of the shoulder. I put on some golden looking flats and went to the mirror and in my dorm. My ashy blonde hair was pulled into a french braid that fell over my left shoulder. I put on some chapstick over my pale lips. The rest of my face bare of any makeup, except for shimmering eyeshadow to bring out my eyes, which was a ring of orange surrounded by gray. I tug at the chiton, the white contrasting with my tan skin. I grabbed my purse and headed out to the bar. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When I arrived everyone was already there. Jess dressed as a sexy nurse, Luis as a ghoul, and Sam had no costume on. “Hey guys sorry I'm late, I was trying to find my costume,” I said sitting down and asking the bartender for a drink. “It's fine Sera, anyway here is to Sam and his awesome LSAT victory.” Jess said raising her glass up. “All right, all right, it's not that big a deal,” Sam responded, as he clinked his glass with ours. “Dude stop being so humble, you scored an one seventy-four,” I said as Luis asked if that was good. “Scary good,” Jess replied as she took her shot. “So there you go. You are a first-round draft pick. You can go to any law school you want!” Luis said sitting next to Sam. “Actually, I got an interview here, Monday. If it goes okay I think I got a shot at a full ride next year,” Sam said. “Hey. It's gonna go great,” Jess stated. “It better,” Sam said. “It will Sam, jeez have some faith in yourself,” I said punching his shoulder. “How does it feel to be the golden boy of your family?” Luis asked. “Ah, they don't know,” Sam said, Jess looked at him with a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Oh, no, I would be gloating! Why not?” Luis asked. “Because we’re not exactly the Brady's,” Sam said, I winced knowing the feeling. “And I’m not exactly the Huxtables. More shots?” Luis asked. “No,” we all said in chorus. Luis got up and went to the bar to get the drinks. We all sighed as he kept going anyway. “Seriously. I'm proud of you. And you're gonna knock’em dead on Monday and you're gonna get that full ride. I know it,” Jess said. “Same Sam, I know you are going to be great,” I said smiling at him and took a sip of my drink. He smiled at me and then turn to Jess and said,” What would I do without you?” with a slight smile on his face. “Crash and burn,” she said as she smiles at him in return and pulled him in for a kiss. “Aww, true love,” I said laughing. They both broke away from the kiss and rolled their eyes at me. I smiled thinking how nice it was to have normal life and normal friends for once. By no means do I hate the life that I have, I'm just a demigod and our lives don't usually end up happy. But for the time being I felt happy and at peace. But I did not know how short this happiness and peace would last and be thrown back into the life of monsters and terrors. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I was walking around campus it was the middle of the night. I left the club so after Sam and Jess did and was still walking around in my costume. I did not want to go back to my dorm where my roommate was probably sucking red boyfriend off. I was near the apartment building where Sam and Jess were living in. I could see their building when a car passed me and stopped in front of the building, I got a little suspicious since it was the middle of the night. The car itself was what looked to be a ‘97 chevy impala. Don't ask me how I know, I just do, it is really a child of Athena thing. We just really like to know things no matter how little, also when one spends enough time with a certain child of Hephaestus they learn many fun facts about machinery. A man walked out of the car, I couldn't get a good look of his face or his build really, maybe 6, 6’1 in height but that's about how much I can gain from the distance and the darkness of midnight. Stealthily I made my way closer to the man without him spotting me. I ducked behind the building when the man started looking around to make sure no one was watching. When he spotted no one ‘thank the gods’ he resumed walking towards their apartment building. He started going up the fire escape to get to an entrance of their apartment. I slowly climbed up after him hoping that we wasn't going to Sam’s and Jess’s apartment. I was going to stop him regardless, but my friends safety always came first in my mind. He stopped at the entrance to their apartment and I almost let out a quiet sigh ‘I can never have it easy, huh.’ The man opened the window that lead into their kitchen. ‘At least he didn't break the window,’ I thought as he went into the apartment. I then heard a crash. ‘I hope that wasn't something expensive,’ I sighed also climbing into the apartment when I knew he was far enough away not to spot me. When I spotted him, with his back facing me, I got ready to tackle him. When Sam showed up and grabbed the man by his shoulder. The man knocks it away and goes to throw a punch at Sam. At that moment I tackle him from behind, stopping him from punching Sam. As we landed on the ground he rolled over and was on top of me. ‘Well isn't this a lovely position,’ I thought as I tried to use my legs to push him off of me. Sam came up behind the man and grabbed him from the armpits and hauled the man off of me. When Sam got a good look at the man his eyes expanded in shock. “Dean?” I stood up in shock, ‘his brother Dean, I thought they weren't in touch.’ “Easy there Tiger,” the man, now Dean, said standing up straight after Sam let him go. He then turned to look at me,”So who is this little firecracker?” “Dean, what the hell are you doing here?” Sam asked before I could answer. “I was looking for a beer,” Dean said with a chuckle and slapped both of Sam’s shoulders. “Sam?” Jess questioned as she turned on the lights in the room. She was wearing a smurfs crop top t-shirt and some short shorts, which Dean seemed to like. “Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica,” Sam said as Dean kept looking and nodding at Jess. “Wait, your brother Dean?” Jess asked with a slight smile on her face. Sam started nodding as Dean said “I love the smurfs. You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brothers league,” while walking closer to her, with a flirtatious smile. “Let me go put something on,” she said as she turned to leave. “No, no. No I wouldn't dream of it, seriously,” Dean said smirking. ‘Jeez,’ I thought, ’I have been totally forgotten about in this situation right now.’ I coughed to gain their attention and the three turned their heads towards me. “Hello Sam’s brother, I am Seraphina, nice to meet you,” I said to Dean and gave a little bow. I can be a bit sarcastic and over the top sometimes due to the time spent with my sister’s boyfriend, Percy. I am still a child of Athena though, I am usually very levelheaded, couscous of my surroundings, and ,of course, very intellectual. But hanging out with Percy can lead to people gaining some of his sass, as he is king of sass, Persassy, or being entirely irritated with him. I am not to entirely sure if I should be grateful for being the first of the two or worried. “Sera, are you alright, I forgot you were here,” Sam said in concern as he came over to me to see if I had any injuries. “I kinda figured that out when Jess came in the room and your brother started talking, and yes I am fine,” ‘I am used to getting bruises and getting hurt’ I thought thinking of the camp activities I partook in. “Yes you are,” Dean said as he walked over to me and shook my hand, “Dean and sorry about that. If I knew you were a goddess I would have been more gentle,” he said with a smirk. “Figured and one, I am not a goddess, two, I could take you,” I said smirking, giving his hand one good shake and then letting go. “Oh we’ll see about that firecracker,” he said. While walking towards Sam, he was still looking at Jess. “I got to borrow your boyfriend, and friend, here, talk about some private family business. But, uh, nice meeting you.” “No,” Sam said walking towards Jess and put his arm around her, his face still set in a stony expression,”No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her.” ‘Again, I just became invisible, like does Sam have a selective memory or am I just really forgettable.’ “Okay,” Dean said turning back around to look straight at them. I also saw a glimpse of what looked like him glancing at me from the corner of his eye. I shrugged and let him continue to talk. I knew he wasn't going to say anything in front of Jess anyways, it was in his body language. “Um. Dad hasn’t been home in a few days,” he said. I was slightly confused but let it go, I knew it wasn't either the full or actual story at all. “So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He’ll stumble back in sooner or later,” Sam responded. I was not that shocked with the lack of concern in Sam’s voice as I knew his relationship with his father is rocky at best. Dean ducked his head down then looked back up, “Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days.” When Dean said that I could hear the emphasis on hunting trip. What was so important about the words that it needed to be emphasized? What is the meaning behind those words? I tried to think of every possibility of what that could mean, when I remembered something that Chiron said. Chiron tells all the new campers this when they first arrive, after telling them that they are demigod, half human half god. Is to be careful of hunters. Hunters were beings that are completely human and that could see through the mist. There are of course some monsters that the mist can't hide due to the origin of that monster. These hunters are known to kill monsters that are harming the mortals, which isn't all that bad. The reason Chiron tells us to be careful is that hunters aren't known to be compassionate to any form of the supernatural. Even though we demigods were here protecting mortals far longer than the hunters, but that's not the point. The hunters have a shot first ask questions later type of attitude which is very dangerous to a demigod. Especially to a new one, who just found out their heritage and do not know completely how to be well hidden in the mortal world. Camp can only do so much. Not many demigods were killed by hunters now a days, but was a very big deal years ago when the hunters first started showing up. ‘Of course the one time I make normal friends, and one of them being my best friend, had to be a hunter,’ I thought, trying to hold on a sigh of defeat of having anything normal in my life. ‘Just make sure he doesn't find out you're a demigod and all will be fine.’ It's not like I don't trust Sam I just don't want to make it hard on him to have to chose between his life of being normal, since it looked liked he was trying to leave being a hunter, and the one of the supernatural. I came back to the present when I heard Sam tell Jess that he and Dean needed to go outside and talk. Sam turned to me,” you should head back to your dorm Sera, it's late and you need the rest after what just happened tonight." I shook my head and looked back at Sam,” I need to talk to you and your brother.” Sam looked at me confused, but I didn't wait for an answer from any of the three and headed out of the apartment. ‘I need to think of a way for the two of them to let me in on the hunt, if Sam takes it.’ ‘Of course he would he might not like his father, but he is still family.’ My final thought before the two brothers came out to meet me in the stairwell of the apartment building was that, I am not losing another friend if I can help in any way. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Character speaking” ‘Character thinking’ ~~~~As I stalked outside the apartment I cooled my face into a mask of indifference. I leaned against the wall at the top of the stairs that headed down to the main area of the apartment complex. ‘It's going to be ok Sera, just say how you know they are hunters and just lie and say that you are also a hunter, easy as pie. Oh please let this be easy.’ As I was thinking Sam and Dean walked out of the apartment, Sam now wearing a hoodie and jeans, and came to stand in front of me. “What do you need to talk to us about,” Sam said concern laced in his voice. “Yeah firecracker we don’t have all day,” Dean said exasperated. I turned and started walking down the stairs, so they would not be able to see my face as I spoke,”I known what you guys are.” I chanced a look back to see their expression. Sam had a look of pure shock and Dean’s face was stoic, but I could see the surprise of what I just said in his eyes.“We’re just regular people what else could we be,” Dean said“Don't pull that shit with me, I may not know you, but I could definitely hear the emphasis that you put on hunting trip. And why would you not tell Jess? Why tell Jess that you need to talk to your brother outside if it’s about a damn hunting trip,” I said voicing the last part towards Sam. I stopped and turned to look back at the two brothers. “You’re just reading too much into one word, firecracker.”“One, don't call me firecracker and two no I am not. If I was, then Sam wouldn't have looked so shocked when I said that I knew what you guys are.”Dean shot a glare towards Sam,”then what are we?”I sighed,”hunters.” Sam stepped forward shocked and confused,”and how do you know this?”I took in a deep breath,’You can do this, you lied before and held many secrets, this is nothing new. This is to keep Sam safe and make sure no one kills him. If I can help in anyway I will. Also this will give me great idea of how hunters work, if they have hierarchy, and all the different equipment that they use for hunts. For the betterment of camp.’“I am also a hunter.” I said staring straight at them waiting for a response. “How do we know you are telling the truth,” Dean replied. “Why would a civilian know any of these things,” I retorted.“We could be hunting animals for all you know, and ‘civilians’ know what a hunter is.”“Are you shitting me that is the most stupidest thing I have ever heard.”“Sera-,’ Sam started“No,” I cut him of,”you literally just said ‘how do we know you are telling the truth’ why would you say that if it was just regular hunting. Also why would Sam look so shocked and you surprised when I said I know what you are.” As I finished ranting Dean looked gobsmacked and Sam was just looking at me with a slight hint of sadness on his features. “Since I am your friend and maybe even your best friend I do not appreciate you still lying to me when I can clearly see the truth in this situation.” ‘Hypocrite’ I thought after I said that.Sam expression fell even more and I can see more sadnesses seep through,”I’m sorry Sera, I just wanted to have a normal life. I was done being a hunter.”“It’s fine Sam I don't judge you for that, I feel the same as you do. I just want the truth when I ask you and tell you point blank that I know.” ‘Like you’re one to judge.’Sam nodded. I gave him a small smile and turned to face his brother,”Now do you want to continue talking here or outside where it is a little more private,” I said turning to go down and outside the building not letting them have the time to answer me.‘Just remember this is for Sam and camp, Sam and camp.’~~~~ I exited the building and headed towards Dean’s car. When I got a closer look at the car I could fully appreciate it. Again I'm not a car person, but even I can tell that he takes really good care of the car. I stood by it and waited for the brothers to come out. ‘You're doing well Sera, just keep it up,”The two brothers stopped in front of me. “Sam, dad’s in real trouble right now. If he’s not dead already. I can feel it,” Dean said facing Sam. Sam stayed quiet.“I can’t do this alone.”“Yes you can,” Sam replied. I stayed quiet. This is between the two of them and if I jump in, it’s just going to make things worse. They need to sort out their issues on their own without anyone jumping in. I will give Sam guidance if he needs it, but he must be the one to talk to Dean. Dean looked down,”yeah, well, I don’t want to.” Sam sighed and looked down thinking. He looked back up,”what was he hunting?”Dean moved to the trunk of the car. He opened it and also opened the spare-tire compartment.‘Damn that’s a fucking arsenal.’ Dean propped the compartment with a shotgun. The whole compartment was filled with guns, ammo, and many other trinkets/weapons. ‘So these are the different weapons that hunters use to kill the other supes.’ “All right, let’s see where the hell did I put that thing,” Dean said.“So when Dad left, why didn't you go with him,” Sam asked.“I was working my own gig. This, uh, voodoo thing, down in New Orleans.”“Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?”When Sam said that Dean looked over at him,”I’m twenty-six, dude.”“Pfft.” I tried to hold in the small amount of my laughter that was bursting to come out, but Dean heard it.“Is something funny,” he said. “You’re twenty-six and yet still act like a child, I commend you. Some people when they grow up lose that side, when they grow up like we do,” I said trying to be nice, since I have been a little rude, but I don’t he thought that as he just frowned and went back to find what he was looking for.Dean grabbed a folder and took out some papers. “All right, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy.” Dean handed Sam the paper of the guy,”they found his car, but he vanished completely MIA. I looked over Sam’s shoulder to read the paper. Well I use read lightly all the words were a jumbled mess. ‘Sometimes I really hate having dyslexia. I’ll ask Sam about it later or translate it.’ “So maybe he was kidnapped,” Sam said. “Yeah. Well, here’s another one in April,” Dean said,”Another one in December ‘on-nine, ‘oh-three, ‘ninety-eight, ‘ninety-two, ten of them over the past twenty years.” With each date said Dean tossing down another article. He took the article, that Sam was holding and picked up the rest of the articles placing them back in the folder. “All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road,”Dean said pulling a bag out of another part of the arsenal.“It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn’t heard from him since, which is bad enough.” Dean reaches for a handheld tape,”then I get this voicemail yesterday.” He presses play, the recording itself was staticky and the signal was breaking up. But I could definitely hear the hint of an EVP in the recording.“Dean… something big is starting to happen… I need to try and figure out what’s going on. It may… be very careful, Dean. We’re all in danger.” I guess that was their father, John.“You know there’s EVP on that,” Sam said. “Not bad Sammy, kinda like riding a bike, isn’t it?”‘Sammy huh, can’t wait to use that against Sam.’Sam shock his head to what Dean said and waited for his brother to continue. “All right. I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got.” He pressed play again.“I can never go home…” the voice said distinctly female.‘I thought all ghost go to either of the three underworlds. I mean with having a Greek/Roman, Egyptian, or Norse. That the ghost would have somewhere to go. But I guess something really tragic would make a ghost stay.’“Never go home,” Sam repeated. I could tell it meant something else then just repeating the woman's words.Dean dropped the recorder and puts down the shotgun. He goes into a straight position to close the trunk, then he leans against the trunk. “You know, in almost two years I’ve never bothered you, never asked you for a thing.”As Dean said that Sam looked away. ‘The good old guilt trip.’Sam sighed and looked back,”All right. I'll go. I'll help you find him,” Dean nodded,”but I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here.” ‘Oh, yeah, Sam’s interview, I completely forgot about that. Jeez I’m a bad friend,’ I thought.Sam turn to go back to the apartment, he turned back around when Dean spoke.“What’s first thing Monday?”“I have this… I have an interview,” Sam responded. “What, a job interview? Skip it.”“It’s a law school interview and it’s my whole future on a plate.” “Law school?” Dean questioned with a smirk. “So we got a deal or not.” Dean said nothing in reply, and Sam continued back into the apartment. ~~~~ While Sam was getting his things me and Dean were standing in an uncomfortable silence. Dean turned towards me,” are you going to stand there all night or are you going back to wherever you live.”“I'm going back to my dorm to change and pack.”“What are you packing for?”“I thought that was obvious, I'm going with you guys on this hunt,” I said looking at him weirdly,”why else do you think I was staying here in a chiton costume,” the sarcasm clear in my voice. “No, no way. You are not coming with us. It is just Sam and I, you are going back to your dorm and take whatever classes you law kids take.” “No, I am coming with you. Remember I am also a hunter I can help you out. Plus I want to help Sam, he is my best friend and I don't want anything to happen to him.”“Are you saying that I can't take care of my brother. Listen firecracker I've been taking care of him since he was a kid and here he is now.” “I'm not saying that. I can see how much you love your brother and that you have taken quite good care of him. I also want to take care of him. I already lost many friends … I don't want to lose him too,” I said my voice getting smaller at the end and cracking. Dean looked uncomfortable and was fidgeting. I could tell that he didn't deal with crying girls a lot. “Please, please let me come, I've done hunts before and I won't get in your way. Just, please, let me protect Sam,” I said pouring every bit of emotion I felt into my words.He sighed,”fine you can come, but you have to be the one to break this to Sam, I know he won't like it.”I smiled and gave him a nod. I knew if I went for a hug it would not end well and just be awkward.In this moment of silence I could get a good look of Dean. He was about 6’1 in height and a semi muscular/lean build. He had light brown hair and a lovely set of hazel green eyes. ‘Did I just think a lovely set.’ I shook my head.We stayed in silence for the rest of the time waiting for Sam to come out. It was a couple of minutes before Sam came back outside.When Sam finally came back out he had a duffle bag full of things he needed. He walked over to us and spoke to me. “Sera do you need us to drop you off at your dorm, we will if needed,” he said looking at Dean as to say we are going to do this anyways. Dean just rolled his eyes. “Well yeah I need you guys to drive me. I need to change and get some supplies. If I am going to come on this qu- hunt.” ‘Almost said quest there I need to be careful, I am a daughter of Athena I need to be smarter.’ “Wait, what. No you are staying here,” he said looking to Dean to back him up. I sighed,”I’m getting tired of people telling me to stay here. I'm going even if you like it or not, I'm going. I already had this discussion with your brother and he said I could after a multiple of no’s.” Sam turned and glared at his brother. Dean just shrugged and said,” You try telling her no after she reasons with you why she wants to come, and just let her come along the more hunters the better.”I nodded and Sam sighed. ‘Yes now all I need to do is pack my bag and make sure I have everything I need for a hunt.’Dean moved to the front of the car, towards the driver seat. I moved towards where Sam was going, shotgun, and got in the back behind him. Dean pulled out and I started giving him directions to my dorm ~~~~ When we arrived, I stepped out of the car and headed towards my dorm room. ‘Hopefully my dorm mate is asleep so I can get in and out without making a disturbance.’ I quickly made my way to my dorm.I unlocked my door and quietly went in. My roommate was asleep, ‘Thank the gods,’ I can just get my things and leave. I grabbed the bag that camp gives out when we head out to the mortal world. It already had all the essentials, like ambrosia, nectar, a dagger, and some extra clothes. I put in more extra clothing and put in another dagger.I changed out of my chiton. I put on a pair of jeans, a regular dark t-shirt and a flannel over top. I put on some sneakers.I slugged the backpack across my back. I looked around seeing if I needed anything else,’my one shot of normal, of having a normal life, but it's for Sam and I'll do anything to ensure my friends safety, and now Dean as well.’ I smiled and thought of my camp friends who are now in New Rome studying,’gods I miss them.’ I silently made my way back to the car.When I arrived Dean and Sam seemed to be having an intense conversation. I knocked on the roof of the car to notify them that I was there. The two stopped talking immediately,’odd,’ I thought. Dean unlocked the car and I climbed in the back.“Alright I got all I need, ” I said putting my bag next to me.“That's it I would have thought you pack more,” Dean said driving away. “It’s only the weekend I don't need that many things,” I reasonedSam just sighed and shook his head, and Dean had a slight smirk on his face. ‘This must be due to whatever they were talking about before I got back.’I patted Sam’s shoulder and gave him a slight smile. He gave one in return. I got comfortable in the backseat to catch up on some sleep so I can be prepared for tomorrow. I bid the two brothers goodnight, and the last thing I heard before sleep took me was the goodnight from the two.
10786308	Too Wise to Woo	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": "Hermione Granger, Severus Snape", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Apythia [archived by thequidditchpitch_archivist]", "chapters": "10/10", "completed": "2008-02-18", "published": "2008-02-10T00:00:00", "words": "16,356", "Additional Tags": "Drama, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Comedy, Post-War", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "The Quidditch Pitch", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Author's notes: This story was written pre-"Deathly Hallows" in response to the SSHG_exchange on Live Journal. The prompt was: Set several years after Hermione has left school in which Severus has already been exonerated. For story inspiration, look to Shakespearean comedies, but update the story for today. “What on earth were they thinking going off like that? No Aurors! Not telling anyone! They could have been killed!” Molly Weasley was livid with the four missing men who had been found at last and were now at St. Mungo’s. “It’s a good thing they are alive so I can kill them myself!”“Harry and Ron are always going off without thinking,” said Hermione Granger, who had emerged from the loo looking like someone who was trying to hide the fact that she had been crying. “But Remus and Snape should have known better.”“War heroes or not, it was stupid of them to go after the Lestrange brothers alone. Honestly!”Molly was on a roll. Tuning out her ranting, Hermione lost herself in the flames dancing along a log in the fire. She was angry, frustrated, hurt, worried; she had wanted to be there with them, at the hospital, at the confrontation. She should have been facing the Death Eaters as well. It had always been the three of them; the Trio always stood together in the face of danger. But this time, they had left without her. They hadn’t even told her that the Lestranges had been found. She knew they were only looking out for her after what happened the last time. Absently running a finger down her sternum, she quickly withdrew it. The lightest touch sent stabs of pain through her chest. Damn Lucius Malfoy! “Hermione, are you feeling well? You’re looking pale.” Molly’s concern cut through Hermione’s thoughts.“I’m fine,” she said, flashing a small smile. “I just wish I could see them.”“They’ll be here soon enough,” Molly said, giving her a hug. Hermione bit her lip so as not to gasp in pain as Molly squeezed her tightly. Everyone knew that she had been hurt by the final curse Lucius bit off before Kingsley Shacklebolt Stupefied and bound him. But no one knew the extent of the damage. She had requested that the details of her medical condition not be shared with anyone else, and the doctors at St. Mungo’s had honored her wishes. There was nothing they could do for her other than treat the symptoms. Lucius had been given the Dementor’s Kiss before the doctors realized that he would be the only person who could reverse the curse, and now he couldn’t even hold his wand, let alone heal her. Now she was left suffering with a wound that not only wouldn’t heal but was also getting progressively worse.The pain lessened some as Molly released her.“Don’t worry, dear. Why don’t you go and have a rest before they arrive? I’ll get started on dinner,” Molly suggested.Hermione nodded and went up to her room. She, Harry and Ron had moved into Grimmauld Place after their sixth year, using it as a headquarters of sorts while hunting for the Horcruxes. It had taken a nearly a year and a half of grueling legwork to find and destroy those parts of Voldemort’s soul. It was in no small thanks to their former professor that they did so. Severus Snape, who had disappeared the night of Albus Dumbledore’s murder, had begun sending anonymous clues to Hermione, not just about the Horcruxes, but also about Voldemort’s plans in the war. Though she had been hesitant to trust such information at first after it had repeatedly proved to be reliable, she took the sender’s word as truth, and that information helped the Order win the war. Though she had her theories, it wasn’t until the Final Battle that Hermione had discovered for certain who her informant had been. Curses were flying in the Great Hall as students and faculty fought against the masked Death Eaters. The Trio led the fight with the Order and Dumbledore’s Army at their backs. She had been cornered by a revenge-seeking Dolohov. As he raised his wand, the Killing Curse starting to fall from his mouth, he was struck from behind and fell onto Hermione. She pushed him off, wand reflexively pointed at the Death Eater behind him.“Careful, Miss Granger. I’d hate to lose my contact now,” the familiar silky voice sneered.“Professor?” Her mind reeled. The man responsible for killing the Headmaster was the one helping her? Why? Hermione had always believed – wanted to believe – there was something else about that night that they didn’t know. But no matter how hard she had looked, she’d found no evidence to support her belief that Professor Snape’s hand had been forced. Hermione looked at the man before her, not knowing whether to thank him or kill him.“Get down!” he yelled, pushing her aside as a blast of yellow light flew toward them.By the time Hermione had struggled to her feet again, Snape had disappeared in the sea of duelers. She shook all thoughts of him from her head and dove back into the battle, making her way toward Harry who was circling Voldemort in the middle of the room. A crash echoed through the Great Hall as the doors shattered, reduced to mere splinters as the Aurors finally arrived. The Death Eaters were finally outnumbered. Hermione had managed to reach Ron’s side just as Harry began to chant. Hermione and Ron clasped hands and pointed their wands at Harry. They recited the incantation she had discovered in an ancient book in the attic of Grimmauld Place. It permitted them to send the energy of all the love they felt for Harry, their friends and their family to him, allowing him to channel it with his own and force it into Voldemort. Such feelings of humanity literally began tearing the Dark Lord apart. Suddenly, she jumped as a hand touched her shoulder. Snape stood by her side, adding his power to hers. All around them, members of the Order and Dumbledore’s Army had joined in. An overwhelming burst of white light surged forth from Harry’s wand, blinding them all. When they could finally see, all that was left of Voldemort was a powerless, mortal thing writhing on the ground. She watched as Harry drew the Sword of Gryffindor and plunged it into the creature’s heart, saving the wizarding world once again before all went dark around her.When Hermione awoke, she had been in the hospital wing. She had survived. And against the odds, so had those she loved most: Ron, Harry, Ginny, Neville, Remus, Tonks and Headmistress McGonagall. While St. Mungo’s had been overflowing with those injured in the fight, the death toll for the victorious side during the Final Battle had been amazingly low: two. Hagrid and Firenze had died heroes, trying to keep Voldemort’s wicked hordes from crossing the gates of Hogwarts. The Death Eaters, Snape included, had been rounded up and sent to Azkaban to await trials.With the fall of the Dark Lord, Dumbledore’s portrait finally had finally spoken. It had directed Minerva to a secret room in his old study that held a Pensieve full of all the memories of the events leading up to the night on the Tower. There had also been a sealed, signed document in which Dumbledore had declared that he had been dying due to a curse received while destroying the ring Horcrux, and it had been his decision to call upon Severus Snape’s life debt to him to do whatever it took to keep Draco Malfoy from becoming a murderer and to keep his own place as a spy in Voldemort’s camp, even if it meant Dumbledore’s own death. He had written that he had given Snape no choice, not even when Snape had offered his own life instead. Hermione always thought it was the sight of that single tear that Snape, her proud, stoic professor, hadn’t been able to blink back as he sat before the Wizengamot, with regret, grief and utter hopelessness flying across his usually blank face as Dumbledore’s admission had been read that had finally swayed the wizarding world in his favor. He had been acquitted of the murder of Albus Dumbledore, and, against his will, declared a war hero for risking his life time and again to pass information to the Order, both now and seventeen years ago.In the two years and countless duels since, Harry and Snape’s mutual hatred had slowly transformed first to mutual respect and then a begrudging acquaintanceship as they chased down those Death Eaters who managed to remain free. They would never be mates, but the fact that they could now be in the same room without drawing blood was a huge improvement. The rest of the Order had followed Harry’s lead and offered a tentative hand of friendship to the ex-spy.Hermione didn’t know how to define her relationship with Snape. She wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends, but she did take great pleasure in their verbal sparring. With sharp tongues and slicing barbs, they used their intelligence to keep each other on their toes. Both seemed to revel in their battle of wits, even if it sent others running for cover.But now Snape, Harry, Ron and Remus were once again in hospital beds, and she was too weak to go to them. She slid open a drawer and removed the potion a Healer at St. Mungo’s had given her and took a dose of the painkiller, sighing as the stinging was reduced to a dull ache. She was careful to ward the drawer again; it wouldn’t do for her friends to find out there was anything more than residual tiredness left of the curse. She curled up on her bed and closed her eyes. Saying a silent prayer for her friends’ speedy recovery from their injuries and their stupidity, she fell asleep. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Hermione, feeling much better after her nap, entered the living room just as the flames in the hearth turned green and Minerva McGonagall stepped out.“Minerva! How are they?” Molly immediately began to question the prim professor who emerged from the fireplace.“They will be fine. Just a little more patching up and they will be returning here,” said Minerva, taking the proffered cup of tea from Molly with a curt nod.“They are so lucky! Anything could have happened to any of them – ” Molly stopped and took a breath. “They need to have some sense knocked into their thick heads!”“Well, when I left, Tonks was giving them a lecture that would rival one of yours, Molly,” Minerva said with a hint of pride in her eyes.“Good!”“Are they really okay?” Hermione asked, afraid the older women were holding back on her account.“Truly, Hermione,” Minerva assured her. “Harry admitted that they all took some Felix Felicis that Severus brewed before they left. That is how they managed to capture the Lestranges and suffer nothing worse then a couple of bumps and bruises.”“They did what?” bellowed Molly. “Just you wait until they get here!”Hermione decided to cut off Molly before her rant hit full stride. “Are you sure that Snape is okay, Minerva?”“Of course.” She looked at Hermione questioningly.“It’s just that the last time we talked, I deprived him of most of his wits, and I wondered if the curse he had received today had left him with enough to keep him warm on those cold, lonely nights in Spinner’s End,” she said tartly.Molly burst out laughing. “Well, you are definitely feeling better!”“Concerned for Severus, are you, Hermione?” Minerva asked.“Hardly,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “But if he were to die, then who would I sharpen my tongue against?”“Are you two still at each other? I would have thought that by now you would have allowed him to be in your good books,” Minerva said.“If he did, I would have to burn down my library, and I’d dearly hate to part with my books.” Hermione shuddered exaggeratedly. “No, it’s much better if he keeps his big nose out of my books altogether, thank you!”Minerva let out a sigh of exasperation and shook her head as Molly laughed. The door opened and the hallway was suddenly crammed with people: Ginny entered with arms firmly around Harry’s waist; Remus was leaning on Tonks, limping slightly; Luna and Ron’s hands were clasped tightly; and Snape took up the rear, alone and, from all outward appearances, unscathed. The house was alive with noise as the rest of the Weasleys and several Order members emerged from the hearth or Apparated just outside the front door. Congratulations were mingled with chastisements as people helped themselves to elf-made wine and Firewhisky to mark the impromptu celebration.Hermione made her way into the sitting room to find that Snape had taken the corner seat that looked out over the gardens. It was her seat and he knew it. That git! She scowled and then schooled her face into a pleasant façade before sauntering coolly over to him. “So I see you are still living,” she said, her voice heavy with mock disappointment.He looked up at her and smirked. “How could I die when you give me such a reason to live? It is my duty to wizardkind to prove to you that, despite your belief to the contrary, you do not in fact know everything. A task I take great joy in.”“Admit it, Snape,” she said with a teasing grin, “you love me.”He looked affronted. “To love implies I have a heart. I assure you, that is not the case. The Great Git has no heart and therefore cannot love anyone.”“However shall womankind survive such a loss?” She sighed dramatically. “Maybe I should start a support group. How about W.U.S.S – Women Under Snape’s Spell?”“Don’t you have some young man yet to bestow such affections on or am I to continue to be granted the privilege of being the sharpening stone for your dull wit?”“My wit is as sharp as yours. And unlike some women here,” she glanced at Ginny who kept touching Harry as if needing reassurance he was there and then to Tonks, who was apparently trying to examine Remus’ tonsils with her tongue, “I would rather fly starkers over London on a Thestral than turn into that!”“Then I think the men of the wizarding world can likewise rejoice for not having to face a hell cat like you. They’d not survive without a scratched face.”“Oh, but scratches could only improve a face such as yours,” she said sweetly, batting her eyes.“If only Potter’s wand had the speed of your tongue, then maybe he wouldn’t have set off the wards, and we would have avoided the trip to St. Mungo’s,” he said blandly.“Harry is – ” she started, indignity making her put all games aside.Snape held up his hand. “Enough! I believe Molly is about to serve dinner, and I could use another drink.” He gave her a nod and walked away, leaving her in a huff behind.I hate that! She fumed. Why must he always run off when I am obviously winning? ~~Dinner was a festive affair as everyone had their fill of wine and food. Even with the slight twitching of his left arm from a curse, Snape found himself in a good mood. With the Lestranges now in Azkaban, all known Death Eaters were now accounted for. Most were dead or had received the Dementor’s Kiss, so fear of escape was minimal. The world could be at peace, finally. Until the next Dark Lord decides to rise, he thought. But, Merlin willing, that would be a war for the younger generation. He had been involved in enough battles to last twelve lifetimes. For the first time in his adult life, he found himself free of all masters and all debt. As of today, his life was truly his own, and the past could be buried. He drained his Firewhisky and poured another glass before following the others back into the living room.“Hey, Snape! You coming to Luna’s birthday party tomorrow night?” Harry yelled across the room.Snape tried not to roll his eyes. He knew Potter wanted him there only because he knew how uncomfortable it would make him; it had nothing to do with their friendship. He was about to decline when a sharp elbow dug into his ribs. He looked down at Minerva who glared back expectantly. “I suppose I have no choice,” he sighed. Really! What was it about his former teacher and coworker that always made him feel the need to obey her? Before he could lose himself in thoughts of how to escape going to the bloody masquerade ball, Lupin leaned over to whisper, “Isn’t she something?”Snape was about to answer regarding Minerva when he realized Lupin’s eyes were following Tonks as she made her way over to Hermione, Ginny and Luna.“Something is one word for it,” he said, wanting nothing to do with this conversation. He thought Lupin was making a fool of himself with such a younger woman. The sound of glass shattering as Tonks tripped and dropped her cup made him amend that to “younger, clumsy woman.” He repressed a chuckle at the thought of how awful it must be to bed someone so accident-prone. And here was Lupin, practically drooling over her. In fact, he looked around the room to find nearly all the men had women attached to their sides. He shook his head. Chalking up the sudden relationships as a reaction to the war and being faced with one’s own mortality, Snape was glad that he didn’t feel the need to pair off and multiply. He had given up on that path long ago; spying and relationships weren’t necessarily compatible. Lupin was relentless however. “Come now, Severus,” he chided. “Even you can appreciate a beautiful woman. Tell me, what do you think?”“What does it matter what I think? I am not the one sleeping with her.” The “thank God” went unsaid. See! I can be civil, he thought.“Is it just her or do you not like women in general, Severus?” Lupin chided.His sexuality called into question, Snape reacted like most men would. “She’s a loud, messy, purple-haired, addlepated, butterfingered blunderer. The only thing going for her is that she is a Metamorphmagus,” he said with a leer.“You really can’t appreciate her beauty at all, Severus?”“Are you dating her or trying to sell her, Lupin?”“Could the world buy such a jewel?” he said almost dreamily.Snape sneered. “Yes, a whole Gringott’s vault-full in fact. I can give you directions to a place in Knockturn Alley where you can get a good deal, even if you are a werewolf.”Lupin was too lost in his argument to convince Snape of Tonks’ worthiness to react to the half-hearted insult. “She is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” he positively gushed.“I can see perfectly fine, yet I see no such thing,” Snape huffed before pausing to consider that maybe Tonks slipped Lupin a lust potion or put him under the Imperius. What else could explain the sloppily besotted man beside him? He expected this sort of behavior from Potter and Weasley, but Lupin was a grown man, for Merlin’s sake! “Are you really going to marry her?” he asked contemptuously. “If she’ll have me. I’m thinking of asking her tomorrow night at the party.”Bill Weasley strode over to them, leaving his young, pregnant wife in the hands of Molly. There’s another one! Snape thought. Can these men really find no woman in the world their own age? “I have to know what discussion is causing such a reaction in Snape. What did you tell him, Remus?” “He is in love with Tonks!” Snape spat out as if that explained everything.“Well that’s not exactly new,” Bill said, eyeing the other men. “You’re considering proposing, aren’t you?”Lupin grinned. “If she’ll have me.”“Of course she will!” Bill said, giving Remus a light punch in the shoulder.“I suppose she would,” Snape agreed, sneering at Lupin. “After all, who else would have either of you?”“Are you just anti-marriage, anti-women or anti-Tonks, Severus?” Lupin asked.“Do I have to choose just one?”Bill laughed. “You should watch what you say, Snape. Someday, there will be a witch who will catch your eye, and we shall all see you a fool for love.”“I may make a fool out of myself in anger, hatred or even fear, but never love,” Snape swore adamantly. “I would rather die than be love’s jester!”“We shall see, Severus,” Lupin said. “We’re still relatively young and the years may hold many things.”“They may bring war, pestilence and the invariable new crop of Weasleys, but they shall never bring Severus Snape, the Married Man. I trust no woman that much. You can lose more blood to a woman than to war, Lupin. It would serve you well to remember that, especially if you plan on marrying one so graceless as Miss Tonks.” As if on cue, the violet-haired woman tripped and, if it weren’t for Hermione, she would have ended up sprawled on the floor yet again. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Author's notes: Ever-so-slight warning: As this is following a Shakespearian plot, please be forewarned: There will be some examples of small spontaneous OoC-ness in the form of costumes in this chapter. “You are coming to the ball tonight, and that is that!” Minerva glared at Severus, daring him to contradict her. He, of course, did.“Have you lost your bloody mind, woman? When have you ever seen me in a costume? Dancing?” Snape questioned, feeling he had a very strong argument. “Besides, people won’t even notice if I am not there.”“Severus Snape, you exasperate me!” she said, throwing her hands in the air.“Maybe if you left me alone, you wouldn’t have this problem,” he kindly pointed out, raising an eyebrow.“Severus, it’s time to let go, to move on. You’ve given up so much of yourself to this war that you scarcely know who you are anymore. Don’t you want to get out there and reclaim your life?”“And how is dressing in a ridiculous costume and twirling around a floor reclaiming my life?” He knew he was just goading her now, but it was too much fun to stop. While he appreciated that he could still count her as a friend after all that had happened, he did sometimes wish she would remember that he had a mother, and it wasn’t her.“It’s not about the dancing or the costume, Severus,” she said calmly before taking his hand. Much to his own surprise, he let her. “It’s about rejoining the world you blocked out in order to survive your spying years. You are too young to waste away the rest of your life in your lab or library.”He was touched by her caring, but he would never let her know that. “Minerva, if you are expecting a few social engagements to turn me into some sort of nice,” he spat out the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth, “man, you will be sorely disappointed.”“I’m not expecting a miracle,” she assured him, “just an appearance.”“If I agree to make an appearance at the blasted ball, will you agree to get out of my house so that I may finish my potion in peace?” “Slytherins,” she rolled her eyes, “always wanting quid pro quo.”“Nothing comes for free,” he reminded her. “Now get out of my lab,” he ordered sternly, but the affection peeked through in his voice.~~Hermione Apparated a few yards away from the banquet hall Luna’s father had rented, wanting to take a leisurely walk in the cool spring night before entering what she was sure would be a hot and crowded ballroom. Everyone would already be there. She had gotten caught up in her research at the Ministry and ended up getting home just as the others were leaving.She didn’t mind arriving alone. In fact, as she hadn’t told anyone what her costume would be, she was hoping this would work to her advantage. Tonight might be a good night for a little fun at Snape’s expense. A hell cat, hmm? I’ll show him. Her smile widened as she walked inside.Scanning the room, she laughed out loud when she spotted him in a corner, alone. Dressed as pirate. He had obviously tried to cast a glamour to look like someone else, but the waist-length, curly hair, goatee, and tanned skin wasn’t fooling her; she would recognize his stance and demeanor anywhere. She wondered what Minerva had done to convince him to leave his house while wearing black leather pants, a white shirt with ruffles and an eye patch. And, oh my, is that eyeliner? Oh this is going to be fun! “That’s a lovely dress, Hermione!” Luna came to greet her, dressed as, well Hermione wasn’t really sure what, but it involved lots of layers of chiffon.“Happy birthday, Luna!” Hermione said, hugging the girl. “How did you know it was me?” “I recognized your laughter,” Luna said. “Are you dressed as Lethifold attacking a vampire?”“Huh?” Hermione looked down at her costume and then removed her black traveling cloak. “Ah, no. Queen Elizabeth.” “The Queen was a vampire?”Hermione was spared an explanation as a sequined-adorned body appeared before them.“Hermione, is that you?” Hermione nodded and hugged her friend. Ginny Potter was simply glowing, as she had been ever since her wedding two months ago. She was dressed as Jessica Rabbit, ample evidence that introducing the Weasleys to DVDs was a mistake. Hermione was sure nothing but magic was keeping Ginny’s dress in place.“Wow, Gin! You weren’t kidding when you said you were going for an exact replica,” Hermione said.“Harry likes it,” the redhead responded with a wicked grin.“I am sure he does,” she said, looking for him in the crowd. He and Ron were easy to spot in their non-descript Muggle suits and black sunglasses. “Wizards in Black” was how they had been referring to themselves as they offered to Obliviate people who had seen the notorious Crumpled Horn Snorkack. Yet another example of Hollywood corrupting the Weasleys. “Good lord! Is that Tonks dressed like Little Red Riding Hood?” Hermione said giggling and pointing to the woman in a red robe carrying a basket.Ginny shrugged. “She said it was a Muggle fairy tale.”“It is, and it’s perfect for her,” Hermione assured her. “Only this time, I think the Big Bad Wolf has other things on his mind than Grandma.”The other two just stared at her. She shook her head. “Never mind. Muggle reference.”“I’m surprised you didn’t choose something a little more revealing, Hermione.”“That’s never been my style, Gin.”“But tonight is all about being something you’re not,” Ginny insisted. “Besides, how do you plan on attracting a man if you don’t show them what you have to offer?”“Ginerva Potter! Women have more to offer men then their bodies!” Hermione snapped. “Besides, who says I even want a man?”“Come on, ’Mione. Everyone wants to be with someone,” Ginny persisted.Hermione felt anger begin to well inside of her. She never was a girly girl, and she never thought she needed a man to feel fulfilled, and she hated when people implied otherwise. “I am not everybody.”“No. You are a war hero. A young war hero who is incredibly powerful and intelligent. And who has a good body, if she’d ever decide to show it.”“What do you propose I do? Strip down to my Skivvies and say I’m a lingerie model?” Her sarcasm was wasted on Ginny who was looking at Hermione like she just solved all the problems of the world. Hermione glared.“Well, it was a thought.” Ginny shrugged. “Really, Hermione, if you don’t learn to loosen up, you’ll never stand a chance at finding someone to marry.”“If I could only be so lucky!” Hermione sighed.“Mark my words. Someday you will find a man and fall madly in love with him and want to get married and have lots of babies!”Hermione looked truly horrified. “Babies? Husband? Not until men are made of some other substance than earth.”“Maybe we shall just have to trick you.”“My eyesight is very good; I can spot a church just fine.”~~Snape watched as Hermione walked toward him. When she had first entered the room, he had caught his breath at the sight of such an elegant woman. He may not be a man of love, but he was definitely not above lust. But then he realized who was behind the mask, and the allure quickly dissolved. He was still smarting from her last barb about his looks. That was part of the reason he allowed Minerva to talk him into this ridiculous getup. He was hoping that Hermione might find his new appearance attractive so that he could drop his glamour at the end of the night and show her just who she had been flirting with. Improved face, indeed! “Hello, milady,” Snape said softly but silkily. He didn’t want his voice to give him away.“Captain,” she said with a nod, allowing him to take her hand as she flashed him what he was sure she thought was a brilliant smile. This is going to be easier than I though!They chatted amicably about inane things such as the weather, the decorations and the costumes of the others. No wonder she’s single, Snape thought, smirking to himself. She’s an utter bore. Deciding taunting her was more fun then tempting her, he changed is tactic for the evening.“I must say,” he interrupted her. “You truly are not the obnoxious know-it-all I was led to believe.”She paused, appearing caught off guard at the sudden change of topic. “And who told you that?”“I don’t know the gentleman’s name, but he was quite adamant that I should avoid you, because you were quite insufferable, constantly correcting others and spewing forth information that no one wants to hear.”“An insufferable know-it-all, hmm? It had to be Severus Snape. Though I would think after all these years, he’d come up with a better insult than that.”“Who is this Snape?”“I am sure you know him,” she said, flashing that grin again, a knowing look in her eye. “His name is, after all, known throughout the wizarding world.”“Really? I don’t believe I’ve met anyone by such a name.”She looked at him oddly and then grinned evilly. “Severus Snape, war hero he may be, is the most caustic, unsociable, nasty man you’re likely to meet. The poor thing prides himself on his snarky comments and sharp tongue. But the truth is, we all just pretend to be intimidated in hopes that he’ll go away and bother another. Oh, and he tends to spit in your face when he’s angry. It’s most uncouth.” She searched the sea of people. “I am sure he is here somewhere.”Snape was taken aback. Did she really see him that way? “If I meet this man you speak of, I’ll be sure to tell him what you said.”“Oh, please do!” she said before walking away with a laugh.Snape stared at her receding back in wonder. Did she recognize him? Uncouth? Me? Hardly. He downed his Firewhisky as he watched her accept that imbecile Neville Longbottom’s offer for a dance. This isn’t over, Granger! he thought, already plotting for their next encounter. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Author's notes: Hermione makes her thoughts on marriage known, prompting her friends to start scheming. Snape made his way over to the bar wondering why the bloody hell he was still at this birthday party. He didn’t even particularly like the Lovegood chit, and the leather pants were beginning to chafe. At least the girl’s father had the foresight to include an open bar in the rental agreement. Snape intended to take advantage of it, drinking shots of Firewhisky until Minerva finally loosened the leash and allowed him to leave.Speak of the banshee, he thought as the Headmistress made her way to him.“What on earth did you say to Hermione?” she asked. “She is quite bothered by your comments. Really, Severus, do you have to wrong her every time you speak to her?”“Wrong her? She’s the one insulting me!” Snape said indignantly. “She stood there, thinking she was talking to someone else, and threw barbs at me. And they hurt. She is not the only one with feelings.”“Are you sulking?” she asked with a small smile.“If her breath were as horrid as her words, there would be no standing near her,” he continued, ignoring her.“Don’t be petulant, Severus. You’ll ruin your image.” He turned to glare at her, but before he could snap back, she gave him a wide grin as she looked over his shoulder. “Oh look! Here she comes,” she said in a voice he thought was just a little too happy.“I beg of you, Minerva. If you have a heart in you, you will release me from this horrid obligation and allow me to leave. I would rather face a month of detentions with first year Gryffindors rather than be forced to stay and speak to that harpy!”He turned around with intent of storming out, only to find himself face to face with said harpy, who was rolling her eyes.“As if I came to speak to you, Snape,” Hermione said with attitude.“You knew it was me?”“Of course,” she said with a smirk. “Do you really think me stupid enough not to notice the charms?”Having had enough of her tongue, he glared at both women before storming off toward the exit. “Was it something I said?” Hermione asked Minerva innocently as she watched the retreating figure of Snape.Minerva sighed. “I do believe you have injured his pride with your slurs, Hermione.”“If I hadn’t struck first, then he would have done the same to me, without mercy, as he had countless times before.”Before Minerva could counter, the music suddenly stopped, and the clinking of glass demanded everyone’s attention. The women turned to the center of the room, which had cleared except for Ron and Luna. Hermione studied the couple before her. Luna really was a better match for Ron that she ever was. Hermione and Ron had had a short-lived tryst that lasted all of three months before they conceded that best friends didn’t always translate into great lovers. Ron wanted what his parents had. Hermione was not interested in marriage or children then, or now. Her sights were set on her career, and she wasn’t in a rush for so-called domestic bliss. That’s why Luna was a better choice for Ron. They seemed to want the same thing and were happy together; Hermione was pleased for them.So, it was no shock then to watch as Ron professed his love to Luna before their families and friends and asked her to marry him. Nor was she surprised that Luna immediately gave a breathy “Yes” in response. Hermione cheered with the rest of the crowd. While it wasn’t a path in life she was ready for, she would support this couple, just as she did Harry and Ginny. Seeing her friends happy was really all that mattered. After offering her sincere congratulations to the couple, she made her way to the bar, definitely ready for a stiff drink.“And there goes another into wedded bliss.” She raised her glass in salute to no one in particular before downing the Firewhisky, fighting not to make a face. She never was one for such strong libations, but it didn’t stop her from requesting another shot from the barkeep as Remus appeared next to her, sent to get a red currant rum for Tonks.Hermione nodded to her friend, who was dressed as the Woodsman. “Not playing the Big Bad Wolf tonight?”“I do that often enough,” he said with a shrug. “I thought I’d try something different tonight. I’m the guy who gets the girl.”Hermione decided not to point out that girl was the operative word in that sentence. Apparently Tonks had told him a slightly modified version of the tale. Who was she to ruin his fantasy?“But you already have the girl,” she said nodding toward Tonks who was oohing over Luna’s new ring. “I suppose it is just a matter of time before you and Tonks get hitched. Why haven’t you asked yet?”Remus gave her a conspiratorial grin. “I was going to do so tonight after the party, but now with this,” he gestured toward Ron and Luna, “I think I’ll wait. But soon. Very soon.”She smiled at him. He had always been someone she liked and respected, and, given his difficult life, she would not begrudge him a single moment of happiness. She only hoped that her research would pay off one day and that his lycanthropy would be nothing more than a bad memory.“But what about you?” he asked. “Any prospects in your future, or are you still anti-marriage?”“I am not against marriage, in general,” she clarified. “I think people do stupid, spontaneous things after a war, and marriage is one of them. So many people are looking to recreate a sense of family that was lost to war that they give themselves over the illusions of solid bonds and a life of stability. I just don’t see the need to rush into it. I want to establish my career before I even consider settling down.”Remus looked at her sadly. “Who else was there, Hermione?”“I beg your pardon?” She had the odd date now and then – after all, she may have been anti-commitment, but she was no nun – but she didn’t know what Remus was going on about.“I know your relationship with Ron didn’t live up to your expectations –”“That was a mutual conclusion – ”“And certainly Krum didn’t make you this bitter,” he continued, ignoring her interruption.“I am not bitter; I am just practical,” she asserted. “And really! Why must a man or his actions be the reasoning behind my decisions? Couldn’t a woman my age simply decide not to marry yet? I see no reason to rush into anything. I’ve spent so many years focusing on the war, and now, for the first time, I can focus on me and my own goals, like keeping you from going furry every month.” She really liked Remus, but, sometimes, he was just as bad as the others. She figured that as advanced as the wizarding world may be in some areas, others – such as views on single, career-oriented woman – seem to be decades behind Muggles.“You really are something,” he said.She couldn’t identify the tone in his voice, so she simply spoke her mind. “I won’t apologize for my life decisions or my feelings.”“I would never expect anything different,” he said soothingly. “I meant my prior remark as a compliment, not a judgment. It is your life, and you must live it as you see fit.”“Thank you,” she said softly, leaning over to give him a friendly kiss on the cheek before excusing herself. Remus carried a tray full of drinks back to the table where Tonks, Minerva, Harry and Ginny sat. He gestured toward Hermione who was exiting the ballroom. “She can’t stand to hear talk of love and marriage, can she?”“Not in the least,” said Harry. “Sometimes, I think she is just too smart for her own good. She’ll never let her emotions rule over her logic. And love is nothing if not illogical.”“Hey!” Ginny said, elbowing her husband. “I didn’t mean it like that, Gin,” Harry started apologizing, but she let him off with a laugh.“You know,” she said conspiratorially to those at the table. “She and Snape really would make an excellent couple. They deserve each other actually.”“You may be on to something there, Ginevra.” Minerva agreed. “They both look so happy when they are taunting each other.”“Please,” Remus said with a laugh. “Within a week of dating, they would die of blood loss from their barbs or else drive each other mad.”“Or end up shagging like Kneazles,” Tonks offered as the occupants of the table dissolved into laughter.As the laughter died down, there was a glint in Ginny’s eyes. She surveyed her companions and grinned wickedly.“I say we undertake a challenge far greater than just trying to get Hermione to date,” she said. “We should play matchmaker for her and Severus!”Harry looked a little ill at thought. “They will never agree,” he said in a way that sounded as if he was trying to reassure himself more than anything.“No, not if we approached them outright,” Tonks said, joining Ginny in plotting. “However, there is no denying all that jesting is just another form of their sexual tension.”Harry blanched but his objections were overruled as his friends considered the situation.“But if we just nudged them along,” Minerva suggested, “we could make them think they were coming to their own epiphanies and finally see what it is we all know.”“Do you really mean to play cupid?” Harry looked at them as if they had gone mad. “Hermione will hex you into next week if she finds out.”“She won’t find out, will she, though, Harry?” Ginny looked at him pointedly.Harry looked to Remus for support, but Remus just shrugged. “It’s as Shakespeare said, Harry,” Remus told him. “Some cupids kill with arrows, others with traps.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Author's notes: The scheme is set into motion. First victim: Severus Snape. The Burrow was stuffed with well-wishers who had come to celebrate Ron and Luna’s engagement. Once again, Snape found himself forced to be congenial. Sighing, he longed for his days as a spy where he could be as antisocial as he wanted and was never expected to attend functions such as this. But then, of course, that would mean he would still have to answer to Voldemort; that thought was enough to make him shudder. The Weasleys and the Trio were loud, annoying and rowdy, but at least they weren’t apt to torture him physically on a whim. No, their torture was of a different sort. Unable to deal with the noise and the crowd, he slipped unnoticed out the back door for the solitude and silence of the garden.The young Weasley engaged, he thought with a smirk. Since Potter was already married, it would now only be a matter of time before the last member of the Trio followed suit and succumbed to domestic bliss. He shook his head. He didn’t understand the fascination with falling in love and pairing off for all of eternity. Being in love did nothing for a man but turn him into a fool and would eventually break his heart. Besides, why would any man want to spend the rest of his life tied to the same woman when there were so many out there to sample? He was content having meaningless affairs when the mood struck. Sharing a bed with a woman was one thing; sharing his life with her was out of the question. He couldn’t fathom the existence of The Perfect Woman, a woman so exceptional, possessing all the qualities he desired in the opposite sex wrapped up in such an exquisite package that he would toss out all his existing beliefs and throw himself at her feet, professing his love to her for all time. And until he discovered that such a creature existed, he would continue to live life as he had been, content in his bachelorhood.He looked up and spotted a group of men heading toward the door. Not wanting to socialize, he ducked into the shadows of the shed.Remus, Harry and Ron paused at the door as Remus looked around and then whispered something to the younger men before they strolled out into the garden.“I think I am going to be sick,” Ron said, his hand clutching his stomach.“Me too, mate,” Harry agreed.“Is it really a surprise? I mean, look at the way they fight,” Remus said with a shrug as they walked closer to where Snape was hiding.“But Hermione? In love?” asked Harry, sounding as if someone just told him Santa Claus doesn’t exist.“With Snape?” Ron looked even more peaked.Snape barely stifled a surprised gasp at that revelation. He slid deeper back into the shadows and listened to the conversation.“You’re certain that’s what Tonks said?” Harry asked.“Yes,” Remus assured them. “I was stunned at first as well. It isn’t as if Hermione ever showed any outward signs of feelings other than enjoying the one-upmanship that is their twisted friendship.” “Are you sure she wasn’t drunk?” Ron asked hopefully.“Quite the opposite,” Remus insisted. “In fact, Tonks said that Hermione was quite upset after Luna’s party. Whatever Snape said to her that night had her in tears. She admitted that she cared very much for him, but that she would never say anything about her feelings for fear of being ridiculed and scorned.”“And with good reason,” Ron said.“If Snape ever found out, there would be no end to his mocking and sneering. It would become a sport to him, and he’d do nothing but torment her with no concern for her feelings at all,” Harry said, sounding angry at the thought of Snape hurting his friend.“That’s why Tonks said Hermione never spoke of her feelings before,” Remus continued. “And she swore Tonks to secrecy.”“So naturally she told everyone,” Harry said with a laugh.“Not everyone,” Remus answered. “Just me. But we thought you should know so that you’d lighten up on teasing her for being single for a while. Give her some time to get over this.”From his vantage point, Snape could see that Harry and Ron looked properly chastised.“I hope this doesn’t get around to Snape,” Harry said, watching a garden gnome run through the roses. “I would hate to have to kill him now that the war is over because he hurt Hermione.”“Who would ever tell Snape that?” Ron asked. “ Besides, he wouldn’t believe it if he heard.”“That’s why Tonks told Hermione to get over it,” Remus explained. “Hermione is better off with someone else, a man who would appreciate the emotions she was offering. I have known Severus a long time, and never once has he said anything favorable about romance, marriage or love.”“’Mione should be with someone who would love her the way she deserves to be loved,” Ron declared.“And not cut her to shreds every time he opened his mouth,” Harry added.Ron sighed. “I don’t get it. What could she possibly see in Snape?”“He’s a challenge. And some women are attracted to the tall, dark and snarky,” Remus said with a shrug. “I hope Ginny, Luna and Tonks can talk some sense into her this weekend.”“Maybe we can try to set her up with Percy,” Ron offered. “They seem to both have an affinity for the rules.”“I think he may be a little too pompous for ’Mione,” Harry said. “But you may be on to something, mate. Maybe she just needs to be shown that other men find her interesting.”Remus nodded. “Yes, maybe that is just the diversion she needs to help her put her feelings for Snape in perspective.”“I think it’s time to start making a list of our single mates,” Harry said.“Let’s talk more about this tomorrow,” Remus suggested. “We better get back inside before our women begin to suspect we are up to no good.”“Aren’t we?” asked Ron with a grin.The three laughed as they walked back inside.Snape walked out from his hiding place, staring at the door. He couldn’t believe what he had just overheard. His first reaction was to think that it was a trick, but upon reviewing the events, he didn’t believe it was staged. After all, none of them were in the kitchen when he decided to come outside for a respite from the crowd, so they couldn’t have known he would overhear them. Leaning back against the shed wall, he thought over what was said. Hermione? Loves me? Why? What would someone like her want with a man like him – a reviled ex-Death Eater who murdered Albus Dumbledore? Granted he had been exonerated, and she had never held his past against him. Nor did she judge him for it. But he was not the type of man to inspire love in anyone, especially someone as brave, intelligent and beautiful as her. Beautiful? Yes, it was true. She had grown out of teenage awkwardness into a confident, attractive woman. A woman who apparently thought him so callous as to vow to never bare her soul to him for fear of his reaction. Her friends were afraid he would scorn her if he found out. I probably would, he admitted. But it would be because of his own lack of comfort in dealing with emotions, and not because of the woman confessing them. She would rather suffer in silence than tell me. Am I really so cold? While he had no intention of ever turning nice, he thought that Hermione understood that their battles of wit were his way of extending an offer of friendship, or the closest thing to friendship he was capable of, toward her.But do I want her to love me? He enjoyed their sparring matches, and they worked well when brewing or researching together. She didn’t annoy him as much as most people, probably because she was more level-headed and intelligent than most of her counterparts. But love? He didn’t know if he could say he felt anything close to that. He cared about her, that was true; it wasn’t as if he wanted harm to come her way, but that was still a long way off from love. A picture of her in that dress from Lovegood’s party flashed in his mind, and he remembered the initial attraction he felt when seeing her. All right, so it isn’t love, but lust is a start, he thought. Maybe he would suggest dinner and explore the possibilities. Of course, this meant he’d have to rein in his snideness toward her. And, most likely, take some ribbing from the likes of Lupin and Bill Weasley for his earlier comments.When I thought I would die alone, I didn’t think I would live long enough to be married, he justified with a shrug. And speak of the lioness. He watched as Hermione crossed the yard toward him. Giving her an appraising glance, he found that since she had progressed from her teens, she had grown into her body and moved with a grace and confidence that had been lacking in her school days. True, her hair was still as bushy as ever, but who was he to criticize in that department? Her skin was flawless and pale, but from natural coloring more than lack of sunlight. The Muggle clothing she wore showed womanly curves he hadn’t taken notice of before when she was just Miss Granger, Sparring Partner, and not Hermione, Potential Date. But more than anything, it was her eyes that drew his attention. They were the eyes of someone who understood suffering, loss and sacrifice because she had been through it too. Though at times, they sparkled with laughter or glinted with mischief, he had noticed that they dulled with some unmentioned feeling when she thought no one was paying attention.It was that, more than anything else, that made him decide getting to know her on some other level might be worthwhile, if for no other reason than to learn the cause of such sadness.She stopped before him. “I know that you would rather be surrounded by first years than eat with the Weasleys, but Molly sent me to tell you that dinner is ready.”He studied her for any signs of her affections, but she was doing a good job at keeping her emotions hidden. He decided to encourage her. “As true as that may be, I thank you for your pains nonetheless,” he told her.A look of confusion crossed her face. “My pains?”“Your effort,” he said, trying not to sound too impatient. He thought her smarter than this.“I know what it means,” she snapped. “I just have no idea why you said it. After all, if it would have been painful, I wouldn’t have done it,” she assured him before turning and heading back inside, slamming the door behind her. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Author's notes: Part two of the plan is enacted. Target: Hermione. Dinner was finally over, and Hermione was ready to take her leave. Snape had been acting rather strangely tonight, and it unnerved her. Instead of trading their usual insults, he had thrown her by almost, well, not complimenting her, but coming as close to it as he ever had. She was vexed that she couldn’t uncover what he was up to now. Still, she stood her ground, not falling for any of his comments, feeling most assured that they were a trap of some kind. The game had left her exhausted and longing for her bed. She walked up the stairs of the Burrow to Ginny’s former room to say goodnight. Just as she reached the landing, she overheard a conversation that gave her pause. “Are you sure Snape has a thing for Hermione?” Ginny’s voice carried softly through the cracked door. Surprised by the comment, Hermione moved closer, spotting Ginny, Tonks and Luna all piled on Ginny’s old bed. Flattening herself against the wall to remain hidden from the sight of those inside, she listened with curiosity. “So says Remus,” Tonks assured the redhead.“Are you going to tell her?” Luna asked.“Hell no! Would you?” Tonks responded. “All she does is take jabs at him. Snape may not be the best of men,” laughter drifted out, “but no man deserves to be scorned so openly for his feelings.”“Hermione would rather be forced to ride a broom daily for the rest of her life than date Snape!” Ginny said. “Could you imagine how she would torment him if she ever found out?”“That’s why I told Remus to tell Snape to forget it,” Tonks told them. “Hermione is not looking for a man, and, even if she were, it would definitely not be Snape.”“Maybe we should tell her, just to hear what she says. After all, they do have a lot in common,” Luna suggested.“No!” said Ginny and Tonks at the same time.“Hermione is so anti-man and anti-marriage that she would only taunt him, using it against him until he was in tears,” Ginny said with certainty.Hermione bristled with indignity but kept quiet.“On second thought,” Ginny continued with a tone that let Hermione know she was up to no good, “maybe we should tell her. I wouldn’t mind seeing her make Snape cry.”“Snape might be a bastard, but he deserves to keep what little pride he has left,” Tonks countered. “Hermione would cut his heart out with a spoon and serve it to him for breakfast rather than accept it as her own.”“I can’t believe I feel sorry for Snape,” Luna sighed.Hermione heard someone coming up the stairs and quickly ducked into the twins’ old room next door. She left the door slightly ajar so she could peer into the other room.“Ladies, there you are,” Remus said, pulling the door to Ginny’s room open. He walked over to Tonks and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I am sorry to break up the party, but we’d better hurry or we shall be late for the concert. The Weird Sisters wait for no one.”Tonks got off the bed and wrapped an arm around Remus’ waist, resting her head on his shoulder. “We were just talking about how lucky we are to have the wonderful men love us that we do,” she told Remus before clasping his hand in hers and allowing him to lead her out of the room.Hermione quickly ducked back in the room. Quietly, she walked over and sat down on one of the beds. Can this be true? Do my friends really think so little of me to believe I would be so disdainful to a man simply for being interested in me? But Snape? Maybe this is just some sort of joke. It would certainly explain his earlier behavior. Yes, that must be it. Snape doesn’t feel that way toward anyone. But what if he does? that annoying part of her brain that second-guessed everything piped up. What if he had developed some sort of feelings over the years? After all, who else does he share his wit with? She thought it over and concluded that it was true that she had a friendlier camaraderie with Snape than most, but that was a long way from love. She really didn’t think Snape was capable of acknowledging love. The man had more walls around his emotions than China had on its borders.Considering her sources, she figured they were exaggerating, as they were prone to do. But even if it wasn’t love, could Snape possibly be interested in her? Do I want him to consider me for anything more than friendship? She couldn’t deny that she loved their verbal battles almost as much as she enjoyed the all too few times they collaborated on a potion or research. Time spent with him passed easily because he treated her like a colleague, an asexual being. The fact that she was a woman and he was a man was immaterial to their relationship. But what if it wasn’t? Snape wasn’t handsome, but then again, she had dated Victor Krum, and she didn’t consider herself beautiful, so they were even there. Looks aside, he was incredibly intelligent, witty, and shared her interests. She shook her head. I can’t believe I am even considering this! The man is spiteful, mean-spirited and antisocial. But not to you. The pesky voice was back. Besides, a man like Snape isn’t going to be interested in a woman whose goal in life is to breed a Quidditch team. He would expect nothing less than a woman with a life of her own. While she couldn’t say she had any deep feelings for Snape, she could see herself testing the waters with a date or two. He was an intriguing man, and sometimes a date was just a date, nothing more. She ran her hand through her hair and sighed. She could just imagine the reaction from her friends if they found out that she — “Miss I Don’t Need A Man” – was considering dating, let alone who. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Author's notes: The situation turns serious as Severus learns the truth about Hermione's injury. Snape Apparated outside of number twelve, Grimmauld Place the next afternoon and knocked, still not sure what he was doing there or what he would say. He was about to forget the whole thing and Disapparate when Ginny Apparated next to him. “Mrs. Potter,” he said with a nod.“Severus.” She greeted him with a grin as she lowered the wards. “Would you like to come in?”He was thrown by the huge smile decorating her face; she was never this happy to see him. He assumed her mood was due more to the ring on her finger than his presence at the door. “Is Miss Granger home?” he asked, trying to sound stern, but he could hear the hope in his voice and silently cursed.Her smile widened. “I think so. She was upstairs in her room when I left.” She stepped aside, holding open the door. “Third floor, second door on the right.”He glared at her as he walked inside. Hearing her try to stifle a laugh as he headed up the stairs, he resisted the urge to hex her.Pausing outside Hermione’s door, he took a deep breath and knocked. In his haste to speak to her, he opened the unlocked door before she could reply and then froze. Her back was to him, but he could see her reflection in the mirror. Her hand was tracing a vicious looking cut that started above her breasts and traveled down to her belly button, which was exposed by her unbuttoned trousers. Her gasp unfroze him; he reached instinctively for her as she reached for her shirt. “I didn’t know anyone was here,” she muttered.Unfazed by the fact she was topless before him, he turned her toward him swiftly to examine the wound. He gently touched the angry, red skin next to the abrasion, and she let out a groan of pain. It was then that he noticed the jar of balm in her hand. He took it from her and sniffed it. Recognizing the smell from personal experience, he knew that it was a strong healing balm with a numbing agent included. He raised his eyes to hers. “What happened, Miss Granger? Who did this to you?”She shrugged out of his grip, and he let her go, his eyes never leaving the line marring her pale skin until she pulled her shirt over it, blocking his view. Emotions raged in him: he was angry that someone dared to hurt her, concerned for her well-being, curious as to why she was keeping this a secret, and fearful that something serious was wrong with her. The woman rumored to love him was hurt, and he wanted to pull her to him and swear he would make it all right, to protect her from anything wrong ever happening again, to avenge her. The sudden intensity of his feelings threw him, but he pushed all emotion aside and concentrated on the woman before him.She still wasn’t looking at him. Gently placing his fingers under her chin, he tilted her head toward him. “What is it, Miss Granger?” he said softly. He watched, feeling helpless, as tears welled in her eyes. Without thinking, he gathered her in his arms, careful of her wound. Her composure completely crumbled within his embrace. He lightly rubbed her back as he whispered reassurances to her. With his other hand, he wordlessly warded the door; he didn’t want any interruptions. There was obviously a reason for her to keep such a thing a secret.When her sobs quieted, he offered her his handkerchief. “What happened, Hermione?” It was the first time he addressed her by her given name.She looked up at him, her red-rimmed eyes widened in surprise, but she said nothing. Raising a shaky hand, she picked up the jar from the bed where Snape had set it. He watched her toy with it for a minute as if deciding something. Then she surprised him by removing her shirt once again, offering him a weak smile. “Sorry, Severus; it hurts. I need to put this on.” She nodded to the balm.Shocked by hearing his given name fall from her lips and seeing her standing so vulnerable yet strong before him, he couldn’t deny that he cared for her as something more than just a sparring partner. But to what extent, he didn’t know. He only knew that he wanted her well again, and then they could figure out the rest. He stilled her hand. “May I?”She held the jar out to him. He dipped his fingers into the cool cream, and with the lightest touch he could manage, he began to apply the salve. He felt her tense with the initial pain of contact but then relaxed as the numbness set in. He focused on the wound, making sure it and the surrounding irritated skin were well coated before helping her pull on her shirt once again.“Thanks,” she said, sitting heavily on the bed, as if what was on her mind was physically weighing her down.He had to know what happened. Kneeling before her, he took her hands in his. “Talk to me, please, pet.” The term of endearment slipped out, but he let it go, not wanting to call attention to it.“There is nothing you can do, Severus. There is nothing anyone can do.” She sighed wearily before finally looking at him. “The only person who can reverse the curse is now nothing but a shell of a man in Azkaban.”“Lucius!” Snape spat. She nodded. Swearing, he gently squeezed her hand. “Tell me all of it, Hermione.”“There isn’t much to tell. He hit me with some unknown hex, and the healers at St. Mungo’s have been unable to close the wound. The only hope was to interrogate Lucius to find out what he did. But that is no longer possible.”“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” he asked, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles.“Why? So everyone can feel sorry for me? Try to protect me?”“Maybe we could help you?”“No one can help me,” she said. Looking away, she mumbled something he didn’t hear.“What was that, pet?” Damn! He’d done it again.“The only way to help is to kill Lucius,” she said flatly.“What?” Surprise filled his voice.“While trying to find the hex, I discovered a Dark Arts spell that, when performed while killing an enemy, will reverse all the hexes that person cast. Either Lucius dies, or I spend the rest of my years in pain, until the curse spreads enough to kill me.”“Spreads?” “The original curse scar was only about three inches,” she said offhandedly.He was horrified. “You've been dealing with this all alone for nearly six months? Oh, Hermione.” His emotions, running far ahead of his thoughts, guided his lips to hers. His mouth brushed her lips in the tenderest of kisses, meant to siphon off her pain. He was surprised to feel her hands move to his shoulders as she opened her mouth in invitation. It was a kiss unlike any he had ever experienced. All the unspoken emotions welling up in both of them poured forth into each other. It was not about lust or sex, but about something more. He gently ended the kiss and pulled back to look in her eyes.“I will do whatever it takes to heal you,” he swore to her. “You would kill Lucius for me? Perform Dark Magic?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral as if she didn’t want to influence his answer or betray her own thoughts.He tried to keep his features schooled; he didn’t want her to know just how much he despised what she was asking of him. He gave her a single nod.“Oh, Severus!” She threw her arms around him and kissed him, hard.This time it was she who broke the kiss. “Thank you,” she said with a small smile. “But I cannot, will not, ask that of you.”“Hermione, I … I care for you,” he admitted. “I swear by my hand,” he clasped her small hand in his, “that I will do whatever I can to help you heal.”“Use those wonderful hands for something other than swearing, Severus. Maybe if we work together, we can come up with a potion or some other way to heal me.” She slid onto the floor in front of him. “But don’t make a vow to me. I daresay you have made enough of those for one lifetime.”“Hermione, if it is the only way —”“Then I will deal with it,” she said firmly.“You cannot mean – ”“Shh!” she brought a finger to his lips. “Let’s not talk of this anymore. Tell me, what brought you here today?”“I,” he started and then stalled, his initial intent long lost in the midst of the revelation. “I came to see if you would like to have dinner with me tomorrow.”“I’d like that, Severus.” She graced him with a smile. Even with tear-swollen eyes and blotchy skin, he found her beautiful and brave. He owed Lupin and his annoying cohorts for bringing to his attention the truth about the amazing witch before him. Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed the inside of her wrist. “Will you be all right?” He gestured toward her wound.“The balm will keep me numb for a few hours.”He stared at her, trying to decide if she was telling the truth or putting up a brave front. Not wanting to disrespect her by invading her privacy, he resisted the urge to use Legilimency to find out and took her at her word. “Until tomorrow, then,” he said standing. At the door, he paused and turned back toward her. “If you should need me or any other potion to help with the pain, please don’t hesitate to owl.”She smiled her thanks and he left the room, feelings of anticipation for tomorrow warring with the injustice that had befallen the young woman who had broken through his barriers. After all these years, he had finally found someone to care about, only to discover he may very well lose her. He thought of Malfoy, and anger roared to life in him.She will not die, he swore. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Author's notes: Severus makes a trip to Azkaban, and the couple have their first date. The icy wind blew across the water, chilling Severus despite his repeated application of warming charms. Nodding to the guard, he opened the door and willed himself to enter Azkaban, a place he had been trying to avoid the better part of his life.As required, he relinquished his wand at the security desk before he was escorted to the cell. The heavy iron door clanked closed, locking him in the dank oubliette. The dim light from a lantern he had been handed barely illuminated the three feet in front of him. He slowly walked toward the huddled form in the corner.“Lucius,” he sneered.There was no response.He raised the lantern in front of him; its soft rays did nothing to blunt the shock of what he saw before him.Lucius Malfoy, once as proud as he was arrogant, lay a mess in tattered rags that barely covered his near-skeletal body. His once luxurious hair was limp and dirty, with patches gone from the scalp.Snape stared at the shell of the man he had once called friend. But the time of friendship had long passed. The man before him was the one responsible for Hermione’s suffering, and he intended to do something about that.~~Severus stood outside of Ambrosia, the newest restaurant in Diagon Alley. Lupin had mentioned to him how much Tonks raved about it when they went last week. Brushing imaginary lint off of his frock coat, he tried not to allow doubts due to past let downs enter his mind. As much as he knew his date with Hermione was not a ruse, he still felt on edge. They had agreed to meet up here because Hermione had thought it was silly for him to fetch her at her office. Relief seeped through him when she materialized before him with a pop.“You came,” he said softly.“You did invite me.” She flashed him that brilliant smile. “Shall I go?” she asked playfully as she turned to walk away, but he reached out and caught her arm.“No, stay,” he urged. He stared at her for a moment, trying to decide what to do next. He was not affectionate by nature, yet he wanted to take her hand, but he worried she might see that as a sign of possessiveness. He was well aware of her stance on the opposite sex, and he felt pretty certain that whatever emotions she may have for him wouldn’t change her fundamental principles.She made up his mind for him by standing on her toes and brushing her lips gently against his. “Hello, Severus,” she said, stepping back.Tucking an errant tendril behind her ear, he whispered his greeting before offering his arm, which, to his relief, she took without hesitation.As they approached the restaurant door, Colin Creevey, photographer for the Evening Prophet, rushed them, snapping pictures, momentarily blinding them with the flash. “The last of the war heroes pair off. This photo is going to get me a raise,” Colin said excitedly, trying to wave down the reporter who was currently interviewing the establishment’s owner. Snape ushered Hermione into the foyer and excused himself as he set off toward his former student, who was still clicking away.“Mr. Creevey, a word,” Snape said as he dragged the young man out of the restaurant.Snape returned shortly with a smirk, knowing he had instilled a fear only the former Potions master was capable of into the heart of Creevey and those photos would not see publication.“You seem pleased with yourself,” Hermione noted as they were seated.“If you can’t take pleasure in the little things …” he shrugged.She laughed. “What did you do? Hex the camera?”“Nothing transpired between Mr. Creevey and myself other than a few civil words and an assurance that the photos would not be printed.”“I doubt Colin would describe it that way,” she mused.He raised his eyebrow, and she laughed. It was good to hear her laugh. He realized it had been some time since he had heard it. Watching her as she perused the menu, he noticed that though she looked beautiful, he could see the shadows under her eyes that the charms didn’t completely hide. There was also a tiredness behind the twinkle in her eyes. He reached out and took her hand. She looked up and offered him that special smile of hers that he was quickly becoming addicted to. “How are you?” he asked, concern evident in his deep voice.“I’m fine,” she assured him.Before he could counter, the waiter appeared to take their order, disappearing quickly back into the kitchen. Alone again, he claimed her hand once more. “Seriously, Hermione,” he started.“Seriously, Severus,” she interrupted. “I am fine. I swear.”He gave her an appraising look. “No you’re not,” he said decidedly. “But you will be,” he added with certainty.“What do you mean?”“I went to Azkaban today.”“Oh, Severus! You didn’t — ”“No, I didn’t harm Lucius,” he assured her, hoping to wipe the worried look off her face. “I simply wanted to see if I would be able to get any information through Legilimency.”“And did you?” He could tell that she was trying to sound unaffected, but hope was evident in her voice.“Yes. I know what the curse was, and there is a counter potion. You were right; it does require use of the Dark Arts to work, or more specifically, one ingredient.” He pulled out a black, glass vial from his pocket and set it before her. “Blood of the caster, forcibly taken.”She opened her mouth to respond but said nothing as she picked up the vial and held it tight in her hand. “How?” she finally asked, looking down at her closed fist.“He no longer had the mental capacity to consent. A small cut to his forearm provided all the blood we need, and I was able to heal it immediately after. He is unharmed, and you will have your cure. We can brew it tonight if you wish,” he offered.After a moment of silence in which he began to wonder if he had done something to offend her, she looked up at him, tears trailing down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered.His eyes locked on hers, and he found himself drowning in her tears. “I swore to you that I would do whatever was in my power to heal you.”This time, it was she who reached for his hand. “You did.” Her stare penetrated him with such sincerity and feeling that it stole his breath away. “You always were a man of your word, Severus.”The remainder of dinner passed amicably enough, but the promise of a cure being only a potion away occupied both of their thoughts to the point that they skipped desert and left their half-eaten meals behind in favor of his potions lab. They Apparated to his home at Spinner’s End and set about preparing to brew. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Author's notes: Severus and Hermione brew the cure, but will it work? Working tirelessly well into the night, they took turns preparing ingredients, stirring the potion and reciting incantations. The solution took five grueling hours of chopping, crushing, mixing and chanting continuously before it could be left to boil for another three hours. When the potion was sufficiently bubbling, Snape placed a lid on it and set a timer spell. The clock from his sitting room chimed, telling them it was a quarter past one.“You must be exhausted,” he said, offering an arm to her as they left the lab.“No,” she answered with a shake of her head. “The possibility of finding a cure has me too on edge for sleep.”He nodded, understanding, but he still wished she would rest. Although he was certain the cure would work, it was Dark Magic, and, as such, the healing would most likely come at a price. He didn’t want her to wear herself out before they finished.“Would you like some tea?” he offered.“That would be lovely,” she said, following him into the small kitchen.He set about mixing various tea leaves and herbs together to create the perfect brew when her stomach growled.“Sorry,” she said, looking embarrassed.“Don’t be,” he assured her. “You hardly touched your dinner.”“I was just too — ”“I was not chastising you,” he said gently. “I know you were thinking of the potion, as was I. But there is no reason for you not to eat something now.”Knowing her stomach was probably unsettled from nerves, he made her some buttered toast and then watched as she nibbled on it.“This will work, Hermione,” he assured her.“I don’t doubt you,” she said with a sleepy smile.Her belief in him always mystified him. Watching her hide a yawn behind her small hand, he wondered if he would ever stop being amazed at the faith she had shown in him since the end of her first year.He had purposely chosen a blend of tea to promote peaceful rest — not a sleeping draft — just some chamomile, lavender and valerian to help her relax. He figured her body would do the rest. Sure enough, her eyes seemed to flutter shut, only to snap open again.“There is a guest bed you may use to take a nap,” he offered. “We still have a long wait until the potion is ready for the final step.”She looked like she was about to object when another yawn issued forth.“Come,” he said, standing up and offering his hand. “You shall rest, and I will wake you when it’s time.”She took his hand and allowed him to lead her upstairs. He showed her into a small room with a comfortable bed. He watched her look longingly at it and then back to him. Before she could voice her objection, he promised once again to wake her when the potion was ready. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.“Thank you for everything,” she muttered into his chest.Gently stroking her back, he kissed the top of her head. “You are welcome, pet.”She pulled back a little so she could look in his face. “Sorry I’ve been a disappointing date.”“There is nothing disappointing about you,” he assured her. “Now into bed with you.”He waited until she was under the covers before snuffing the candles and closing the door.~~When he was certain the potion had been reduced as much as possible, he doused the flame and stared at the brownish-green salve. It appeared perfect, but it wasn’t as if one had much to go on other than gut instinct when dealing with ancient Dark potions. But up until this point, there was nothing particularly Dark about the brew before him – just another mixture of plants and animal parts. <i>At least it will be until this</i>, he thought as he placed the vial of Lucius’ blood on the tabletop. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, praying to any deity who would listen for this to work before heading upstairs to wake Hermione.He knocked gently on the door and waited for a response. After a moment passed, he tried again. With still no response and concern growing, he slowly opened the door, wand out. She was sleeping soundly, curled up on her side, long hair fanning out behind her. Her face was relaxed; all the tension and hidden pain it usually possessed was gone. Without being able to see into her knowing eyes, she looked so young. <i>Too young</i>, he thought. He briefly wondered what he looked like when he slept. Was he as peaceful and angelic? He nearly laughed out loud at the thought and blamed the lateness of the hour and the potion fumes for even having such an inane thought.With a little awkwardness, he reached out and gently touched her arm. “Hermione,” he whispered. “It is time.”She was instantly awake and upright in bed, her wand drawn, before her mind and eyes caught up with her body’s trained response to an unknown touch. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly, lowering her wand. “Old habits and all.”Though he was impressed with her reaction, and if he were willing to admit it — which he wasn’t — a little fearful he had been about to be hexed, he simply assured her that it was fine and that they should return to the lab.She stood up and stretched, and he noticed her dress rose slightly up her legs as she did so. His mind was brought back to the task at hand when she locked her arm in his and said, “Let’s go.”He followed her back down into the lab, taking a place across the table from her. Watching as she slowly uncapped the vial, he once again said a silent prayer as she drizzled the dark red liquid into the waiting cauldron. Her face was intense as she muttered the last incantation while stirring the required thirteen times. The mixture had thickened to a gel state, and she was having trouble churning as it continued to congeal. He wanted to help, but it was important that the person cursed be the one to complete the potion. With the use of both hands, she completed the last circle and lowered the stirrer to the counter.Expecting her to want to try the balm immediately, he was surprised that she just stared at it. “What’s wrong, Hermione?”“What if it doesn’t work?” she whispered.He was immediately at her side, taking her hands in his. “It will work,” he assured her. “Why don’t you try it?”She glanced down at the potion, which was now a fairly innocuous mint color, then back to him. With shaky hands, she began to remove her dress. He turned around to give her privacy.After a few moments, he heard her sigh with relief, and he began to relax. His ease was short-lived. When a scream tore from her mouth, he turned to find her doubled over. He rushed to her side and was frightened to find what looked like black fog seeping out of the very top of the wound where she had applied the salve. “It hurts. It hurts,” she was chanting as tears welled in her eyes and her body shook.He pulled her to him. He feared something like this. No Dark cure came easy. “It’s the toxins of the curse leaving you,” he told her. “The potion is working. But you need to apply the rest.”“I … I can’t. Not by myself.” She looked to him, her eyes begging for his help.He removed the cauldron from the lab table, which he quickly transfigured into a small bed. “Lie down,” he urged her gently.She did as he instructed, and he sat next to her on the edge of the mattress and began to apply the potion as gently as he could as she thrashed beneath his hands. Her wails of agony slashed through him as he continued to torment her with the treatment, batting her hands away as she tried to claw at the cut and the mist rising within it. Once he was certain the entire wound and the surrounding tissue were well coated, he straddled her legs, using his weight to hold them still as he pinned her arms to her side, afraid she would hurt herself if left free. He wasn’t sure if using magic on her would interfere with the potion; besides, putting her in a body bind seemed wrong and cold, even to him. And so he held her, releasing her arms only to apply more balm as needed as the hours of night drained away into the twilight of morning.The sun was shinning brightly by the time all of the potion had been applied, and the black vapor no longer rose from the wound. Hermione, voice long hoarse from hours of screaming, only whimpered now and then in her state of unconsciousness. She had passed out about forty minutes into the process. Snape thought it was a blessing for her. He himself was beyond exhaustion, but there was one thing left to do for her. He summoned some water and a flannel and began to gently wash away the remains of the potion before inspecting the wound, which now resembled any other cut.Standing, he pulled a glass jar from his pocket. He had done some brewing of his own while Hermione slept. The book he had consulted after his visit with Lucius confirmed the detoxing potion and also included a healing potion. As with the first brew, it was an innocent mixture of herbs and oils, except for the last ingredient. He bared the skin of his left forearm and sharply drew a blade across it, gathering the running blood into the jar. He watched transfixed as the clear liquid turned pink. “Blood of a friend, freely given,” he whispered. Corking the bottle, he gently swirled the contents thirteen times clockwise before pouring it into Hermione’s injury.The effect was instantaneous. The skin began to knit itself together as the surrounding area was soothed, and the angry red color receded. He continued to trickle the potion over her until all traces of the wound were gone, and all that remained was flawless, pale skin.He sank onto the floor beside the bed and laid his head on the mattress. It was over. She was cured. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Author's notes: Now that Hermione is cured, the couple look to the future. “So tell me, with which of my nasty bits did you first fall in love?”Hermione nearly choked on her tea. After a few coughs to clear her airway, she gave Severus a wicked smile. “Who said anything about being in love?”They had been involved for the better part of a year, ever since that night they spent brewing the cure for Malfoy’s curse. Of course, they had tried to keep their relationship as under wraps as they could, but it wasn’t long before the others caught the smoldering looks that accompanied their usual banter. Hermione had never thought verbal sparring could be such incredible foreplay before she invited Severus into her bed.She looked at her lover – the term “boyfriend” had never seemed fitting for him – and saw a small flash of hurt flicker across his eyes. Even after all this time, he still seemed uncertain of their relationship, even if he would never openly admit it. She clasped his hand in hers. “I fell in love with all of your nasty bits together,” she answered. “For it’s a total package that is so bad, it would never allow any good to intermingle. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?”Severus smiled. She loved his smile because, just like his laughter, it was a treat for her alone, something the rest of the world rarely saw.“Suffer love, now there is the truth,” he said. “Loving you has always been painful because I do so against my will.”“Despite your poor heart,” she said with a smirk.“And a poor heart it will be if you keep insisting on spending so much of my gold at Madame Malkins,” he said, raising an eyebrow.“It wasn’t that much, Severus, and I paid for it myself,” she said. “Besides, I thought you would want me to look my best when I was at your side today.”“Are you absolutely certain that it is necessary for me to attend this dreaded event?”She laughed at his pout. If anyone would have told her a year ago that Severus Snape pouted, she would have told him to lay off the Firewhisky.“Yes, I am certain,” she said, rising from her chair and walking to him. She settled herself in his lap. “It is Ron and Luna’s wedding, and we have to be there.”“You are their friend. I despise the Weasley boy.”“No, you don’t,” she said, taking his face in her hands. She found him incredibly adorable when he was being petulant, but she was smart enough to never voice that thought. Instead, she leaned toward his ear and whispered, “I promise to make it worth your while to go.”He cocked an eyebrow at her.“The dress has matching lingerie.”“Is that so?”“You’ll just have to wait and see.” She gave him a quick but passionate kiss. “It’s time to get ready, or we’ll be late.”“Oh, I think we will most definitely be late,” he said, gathering her up in his arms and carrying her to the bedroom, her laughter trailing behind them. ~~At the reception, Hermione and Severus were seated with Harry, Ginny, Tonks and Remus, all of whom were well into their cups. “So when is your big day?” Hermione asked Tonks, gesturing to the diamond sparkling on her finger.“We’re thinking in the spring,” Tonks said, wrapping her hand around Remus’ waist and leaning her head on his shoulder.“It’s about time someone put a leash on that wolf,” Snape said, though without any real bite. While he would never be nice – he shuddered at the thought – to Hermione’s friends, he attempted to be civil, and for him, that meant spewing a little less vitriol. He didn’t really think it mattered much because, much to his chagrin, her friends seemed to have become immune to his insults over the years.As if to accentuate the point, Lupin smiled. “A leash, there is something we haven’t tried,” he said to Tonks.“I don’t know,” Tonks said coyly. “I’m kind of partial to using our old school ties.”Snape blanched. He really didn’t want to know anything about the sex life of the Metamorphmagus and the werewolf. He was sorry he even made the insult in the first place.“So what about you two?” Ginny asked.“What about us?” Hermione answered.“When are you going to make an honest woman out of her, Snape?” The Boy Who Lived to Annoy Him asked.“Yes, Severus,” added Lupin. “When? Or are we going to have to lead the two of you to altar as well?”Tonks elbowed Remus in the ribs hard enough to make him grunt as Ginny and Harry shot him an evil look. Snape immediately knew something was amiss. But it was Hermione who put the puzzle together first. She turned to him and asked, “Severus, when did you first realize you cared for me?”He felt uncomfortable talking about emotions in public, and Hermione was well aware of that fact. Before now, she had never pushed him to openly declare his love, show any signs of public affection or make any of their private lives public. But as he looked into her eyes, he knew this was an important question to her. He leaned over and whispered into her ear. “I knew I cared about you as more than an ex-student that day in your room at Grimmauld Place. I knew I … I loved you when I would have done anything to ease your pain when we cured your wound.”She ever so lightly brushed her lips against his. “I love you,” she whispered back before looking at Tonks and Ginny. Her eyes darted between the two women as she asked him, “So you didn’t have these feelings for me the night of Ron and Luna’s engagement dinner at the Burrow?”“No, I …” “Well then, Tonks, Ginny and Luna had been much deceived because they had sworn you were helplessly in love with me that night.” The menace in her voice triggered Snape’s own memory of that night and the conversation he had overheard in the garden. “When did you first love me?” he asked her.She focused her attention on him, making him feel as though he was all that mattered. He loved that she could make him feel so special to her. “When you found the cure.”“What cure?” Harry asked.Snape ignored the interruption and glared at the boy.“Then, Remus, Harry and Ron had been much deceived, for they had sworn you had professed your love for me to Tonks at Miss Lovegood’s birthday party.”“What?” Hermione practically screeched.“They swore you were almost sick with love for me,” Snape continued, enjoying the indignation dancing across the face of his beloved, especially since her anger wasn’t going to be directed toward him.“They swore you were well-nigh dead for me!” she countered.The couple turned to glare at their table mates.“Uhm, so we may have given you a little push,” Tonks confessed.“It’s not like you two wouldn’t have figured out what we all saw on your own sooner or later,” Lupin said with a shrug. “We just thought you were both too stubborn to make a move on your own,” said Ginny.“And you, Harry? You thought it would be fun to play with my emotions as well?” Hermione asked icily.Snape tried not to smile at the fact Harry was about to face the full brunt of Hermione’s anger. The prat is lucky I don’t hex him. He deserves it for upsetting her, he thought as he reached out for her hand.“I’m sorry, ’Mione. I really am,” Harry pleaded. “But does it really matter how it happened? You are together and happy; isn’t that all that matters?”“I am very happy with Severus, Harry. Very happy.” Snape felt her hand squeeze his as she pulled their joined hands to her lap. “But you shouldn’t have tried to manipulate us. Any of you. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Just because we may be a little less emotional than the rest of you, doesn’t mean our feelings are fodder for your entertainment.”Though he would blame it on the alcohol later, Snape couldn’t stop himself from lightly brushing his lips across her cheek. She was eloquent and beautiful, and she had the rest of the table sitting as chastised as his first-year Potions classes used to be. He decided to have some fun at their expense. Knowing Hermione would catch on, with a heavy, put-upon sigh, he turned to face her. Holding out his hand, palm up toward her, he said, “Come, I will have you for a wife, but by this light, I take you for pity.”Not disappointing him, she placed her hand upon his. “I would not deny you, but by this good day, I take you partly because of great pressure.” At this, she shot a glare to those around the table. “And partly to save your life, for I fear you would suffer death by fallen pride otherwise.”“Since you never seem to know when to stop your mouth, I shall do it for you.” He leaned over and surprised her by kissing her passionately before all those present.When he withdrew, he grasped her hand and pulled a ring from his pocket. “Then say you will be mine, to bind me or undo me, I am not sure which.”He held his breath and watched the emotion fly across her face. Though he did intend to ask her to be his wife, he meant to do it in some private moment meant just for them, but he was so caught up in her that he decided he didn’t want to wait another moment to be able to claim her as his own. When he saw the tears, he was frightened he had made a mistake. But then she smiled.“Of course!” she said, throwing her arms around him. “I love you, Severus.”She pulled back to meet his eyes. “And it would be my pleasure to bind you. I am not too sure about undoing you afterward though. I quite like the idea of you tied up at my mercy.”Severus did something that shocked all who were present even more. He threw his head back and laughed, long and hard, before sweeping Hermione up in his arms and carrying her out of the hall, leaving a stunned crowd behind.
10736157	The Game	{ "Archive Warning": "Underage Sex", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Hinata Shouyou, Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Ukai Ikkei, Nishinoya Yuu, Azumane Asahi, Kinoshita Hisashi, Takeda Ittetsu", "Fandom": "Haikyuu!!", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Colejeager", "chapters": "1/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-26T00:00:00", "words": "682", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Kageyama Tobio/Reader, Oikawa Tooru/Reader", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	The sun shined brightly as you rounded the corner into the gates of Karasuno High. You sighed and composed yourself. You are (Y/n). Second year transfer student from England. Top of all your classes. Majoring in sports management. You shook off the nerves and continued walking onto the campus.You stood in the small courtyard, having no clue where to find the dean's office. You started to roam the halls, then there was gleam of orange hair before a crash. You coughed as your back collided with the hard tile."O-Oh god! I-I'm so sorry!!" The boy shouted, tears in his eyes as he helped you up."Its fine, really, don't worry about it." You gave a small smile and dusted yourself off. When you looked back at him, he was stunned, staring at you with wide, sparkling eyes."Are you okay?" you asked and he gave a huge grin."Are you the new transfer student from England?!" You chuckled a bit and nodded."I guess the rumor got around already." You gasped as the boy dragged you by your wrist to through the halls. Soon, slams and the patter of feet could be heard as you approached a closed door.The first year slammed the door open and continued dragging you into what was a mini gym with a volleyball net up."COACH!!!" The boy shouted, his voices bounced off the walls creating a massive echo. His voice put a screeching halt to everyone in the gym. A guy with thick blonde hair and brown roots approached us."What? And who did you bring with you?" The man spoke, toothpick hanging between his white teeth. The shorter male turned back to you and smiled as he got excited all over again."Talk!" He bounced on the balls of his feet and you laughed before putting your hand out to the coach."Hello, I'm (F/n) (L/n). Second year England exchange student-" Your greeting was cut short as the coach finished for you."And our new team manager." The blonde grinned a bit as he introduced himself."The name's Ukai. The team will introduce themselves." Ukai took the toothpick from his mouth and shouted."Everyone! Make a line side by side!" Within seconds the whole team was together and quiet. All eyes shifted as another person came through the door. A boy. He had black hair, glasses, and a small adorable smile."W-What's going on?" He blushed lightly as he realized all eyes were on him."Takeda! Right on time hurry up and get over here." Takeda scurried across and stood beside Ukai."Alright," The blonde slapped your shoulder a bit. "Introduce yourself. And team, Listen closely."Your British accent filled the gym as you spoke loud enough for all the team to hear."I'm (F/n) (L/n). Second year England exchange student. I'm also the teams new head manager!" You smiled brightly as most of the boys cheered. The coach laughed and cleared his throat before telling the boys to settle down and introduce themselves. The boys went down the line and said their names."Daichi Sawamura. Team Captain.""Asahi Azumane. Ace.""Koshi Sugawara. Co-Captain." Finally, the Orange haired kid spoke up."Shoyo Hinata!" He gave a bright smile as the others continued."Yo, I'm Ryunosuke Tanaka." The guy with a buzz cut spoke up and grinned."Kei Tsukishima." Another Blonde spoke up next."Tobio Kageyama." Tsukishima coughed over the word 'king' and Kageyama glared."Yu Nishinoya. Libro.""Tadashi Yamaguchi!" The next boy smiled."Chikara Ennoshita.""Hiashi Kinoshita.""And Kazuhito Narita." The last guy said before all 12 of them bowed as if they finished a performance. Ukai spoke up again."That's the team. And this guy here," He grabbed Takeda's shoulder. "Is Ittetsu Takeda. Co-coach." You gave a kind smile before speaking to everyone."It's great to meet all of you." Bushing lightly, you run your fingers through your (h/c) hair. Within seconds, Nishinoya and Tanaka were all over each other swooning. You laughed and leaned against the wall as Ukai ordered them back to practice.
10786572	Million Papercuts	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood", "Fandom": "Shadowhunters (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Kimmy", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-01T00:00:00", "words": "1,762", "Additional Tags": "Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Talking, Healthy Relationships, Love, Sweet, Short & Sweet, How Do I Tag, Fic Written In Order To Feel Better About My Own Shit, Surprisingly It Worked, Malec Is Awesome", "Relationship": "Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	“Why so tense, Alexander?” He feels Alec smile against his neck but his body doesn’t relax. “Just the usual. This isn’t something that I can escape or fix. And it’s so easy for people to just tell me to keep posture, stay calm and ignore it but… it’s not easy to not to care. And someday, it will eventually be over… but not for months still. And I cannot escape, cannot give in. I just have to endure. And it’s better. A bit, a lot better, since I have you to help me through it and keep me grounded, it’s not going away. I’ve just learnt to live with it for now.” “Is it harder at night?” “Yeah…” Alec sighs. “I just… You can feel it, of course. I should relax, by all logic, and go to sleep, to rest and regenerate, but instead my mind goes into overdrive. Reading, cuddling, it all helps a bit and once I fall asleep morning will come and make it better but for now, everything’s just a bit harder and I just want to not have to deal with it.” “But you have to.” “But I have to.” * The crowd was loud and anonymous and terrifying. The bodies were sweaty and laughing and pushing at him from all sides. At once, Alec felt both peace and fear, unsure what to do and yet sure he wanted to be there. People often thought he was antisocial or brooding, that he didn’t like people. But Alec wanted people. He yearned for people, contact, friends. It was just hard. He enjoyed the idea of just letting loose and dancing and drinking and forgetting the world but he wasn’t sure how to do it. He just stood there, looking at those people, and thinking how much easier it would be if he just had someone to dance with because it was the fact he was alone that was making it awkward. And then, 3 mojitos later, there was a hand on his shoulder and a breath in his ear. “Wanna dance?” And Alec did. * “How are you this beautiful morning?” “Already tired and wishing I didn’t have to leave.” Magnus gives him a peck on the lips and a plate with sandwiches, sitting opposite him. “You will manage. Then it will be over before you notice and you will leave. You will be probably be tense as hell so I will give you a massage and Chairman will cuddle you, and then, we will watch a movie, or I could read to you. And tomorrow we will do this again until 3 weeks pass and we both have leave and we can go on those holidays to Barcelona I promised you.” Alec smiles. “I don’t have a passport.” “Leave it to me.” The wink he gets in return makes life a bit better. * On their first date, they went to a dirty corner shop selling takeaway chinese, because Alec hadn’t had good chinese in ages and desperately wanted Magnus to show him some. They walked around the park in the dark, eating noodles and laughing as Magnus told Alec stories about his crazy adventures. They made out in the grass, Alec ending with more glitter on himself than Isabelle when she was dating that shady seelie one time, and they stargazed, because they were cliche like that. It progressed slowly, but surely, and it grew into a healthy, strong relationship. They both knew and accepted the fact communication was the key, even if it was sometimes hard. They talked and they were aware that they both had their secrets, that Alec was very much in the closet, that there were demons haunting them that not even a movie-like love story would banish. They made it work, until Alec spent more time at Magnus’ than anywhere else, even if he hadn’t officially moved in. * “...lobster” “Please just stop.” Alec is looking horribly embarrassed and slightly in pain but mostly just done with the world, but he can’t help but smile and Magnus can’t help but find him adorable, even sunburnt. By the next day, Alec is magically, completely fine and they stick to shadows, only gracing the beach once the sun begins to set, enjoying the dying warmth of the day and the lukewarm water without the crowds. “Thank you.” “What for?” Magnus looks genuinely surprised and confused, but his eyes are so earnest and honest and full of love Alec can’t help but lean in to kiss him before continuing. “For being here. For this relationship. For staying with me even when none of us has any strength to get out of bed.” “I’ll be here until the day we finally decide to just give up on the world and actually stay in that bed, my Alexander. And then I’ll be there forever, or as long as you’ll want me.” Alec laughs. “Forever.” * There were days when it was so easy to forget the world outside. There were days when one of them came home silent and they just clung to each other, trying and failing to forget the world outside. They made it through so much, with texts and hugs and some fantastic sex… They talked or were silent together, they supported each other in whatever problem arose next, without cliche words that were simple to say but impossible to make happen, without false hope, with just their shared strength. They were always there for each other, in everything that mattered. There was so much they didn’t know about each other, and yet they knew what mattered - their food preferences, the way their bodies fit together when spooning and the values that they held. They were different and yet the core the same, and they were one. There was a lot that the world threw at them, impossible to ward against, a million paper cuts. And though there was nothing that they could do to heal themselves, they were a soothing balm for each other. * “...So, something happened. Something amazing.” “Why, Alexander, this is great news. It so happens I have had great news today too.” They kiss and change and settle on the sofa, sprawled together, legs tangled and stupid grins on their faces. “So… Wanna talk about it?” “You mean…?” “I think so.” “Yeah, you’re right, I think it’s time.” * It was sudden, the best kind of unexpected. It all happened so fast, and it was like one day Alec just realised everything changed. Isabelle and Lydia were the Inquisitor and Consul respectively, Jace and Clary were leading the Institute as Alec declined the position, Simon and Raphael were able to walk in the daylight and enter the Institute, which exposed Alec to watching them be disgustingly sappy more often and Max moved in. It was all a process, slow and painful but in the end, it was worth it and it was successful and it was over. Suddenly, Alec realised, the tension left his body, suddenly, things were really changing. For once, Alec felt like he could take over the world, like the papercuts were not just numbed, but healed. And it was time. * “It’s… cheesy. I know it is. But, as much as we talked about it, as much as we promised to never let it come between us, I feel like things may change.” “They probably will.” “They probably will.” Magnus agrees, sliding closer to Alec and looking him deep in the eyes. “And I just wanted to say, should things go wrong, or change for the worse, should this end up making things weird between us… Those past months were the best months of my life, and as much as you may not understand this yet, this means so much more coming from me than anyone you ever met before, Alec. I’ve been through a lot, I’ve seen a lot, I’ve experienced a lot, but honestly… I don’t think I’ve ever had a chance at something so honest and pure before. And I love you, my Alexander. I love you so much, and I want you to know that I will forever be grateful for what we had, what we have, what I believe we will be able to still have.” Alec kisses him, slow and chaste and loving and he knows that this moment is the most important moment in their relationship. “I just want to say that I may be inexperienced but I know what I feel and I know that you are the most important person in my life and the best thing that ever happened to me. And I love you, Magnus. And even if it will probably seem difficult or impossible, even if it will be the biggest challenge, I want us to try and remember that, whatever happens now.” And they kiss again, long and deep and with desperation, and they pull away reluctantly, but with certainty, sitting opposite each other on their knees instead. “It’ll be easier to show you, I guess.” “I… I guess so. I think, yeah, for me too.” They breath in, and Magnus sees Alec fumbling with something in his pocket, but doesn’t comment. “Close our eyes and count to ten?” Alec nods. * They met in a club. They had their first date in the park at night. They were attached at the hip ever since they started dating. They would be able to take whatever life threw at them. * “Oh.” “Yeah, oh.” They are both shirtless. Magnus is staring at Alec’s chest and Alec is staring in Magnus’ eyes and it’s fairly normal if it wasn’t for the fact that Magnus is staring at Alec’s chest being covered in runes and Alec is staring into Magnus’ eyes all golden and cat like . “Well, honestly, this was not what I expected.” Alec breathes out and lets out a quiet nervous laugh that turns into relief. “I feared something bad.” Magnus chuckles weakly too, shaking his head as if finding it hard to believe. “Yeah. Frankly, this actually makes things so much easier.” Alec just humms and laughs and grabs Magnus suddenly, lifting him bridal style and making him squeal unmanly in surprise, and carries him to the bedroom despite the (weak) protests. “Shush now.” He says sternly, throwing him on the bed and causing a burst of giggles. “Now we’re going to snuggle and sleep and rejoice that nothing is changing, or if it is then only for the better. And tomorrow, we will talk, and then stay in bed as long as we want to, and then stay together, forever.”
10709430	Tevinter Holiday	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Anders (Dragon Age), Fenris (Dragon Age), Male Hawke, Dorian Pavus", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by I_hate_mages_No_you_dont, MisterWiggums, Six_Lily_Petals", "chapters": "3/3", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-23T00:00:00", "words": "4,214", "Additional Tags": "language barriers, Misunderstandings, Pining", "Relationship": "Anders/Fenris", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "Fenders Telephone Game Fall 2017", "Fandoms": "Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Anders worked every night and weekend possible to save up for the trip. He never dreamed he’d have the opportunity to do so again, the life of vet wasn’t a glamourous one. The first day that his Tevene professor offered slots up for a trip to Tevinter, he’d been among the first to commit. The University organized everything and it was set up to be an exchange program, one week with a family there, then the Tevinter student would spend a week with him.The entire train ride, he sat with Garrett Hawke, a jock that surprisingly majored in electrical engineering. One of the few who chose a challenging course load. He was loud and friendly with everyone, although sometimes he took too many liberties with his teasing. Regardless, Anders warmed up to him easily and was thankful for his company during the trip to Tevinter. It kept his mind off the fact that Anders was only a marginal student when it came to the Tevene language.As the class milled about the train station, Anders listened to the announcements over the loudspeaker. Realizing he could hardly follow what the voice said, his nerves returned in full force. A major rule that encouraged the University to pay for half the trip was that the students signed an agreement to only speak the foreign language during the entire trip. Anders was doomed.‘I can’t do this, what in the name of Andraste’s ass was I thinking?’Hawke wrapped an arm around the slender man, “You look like you’re facing a firing squad. Relax, this is going to be fun.”Anders scoffed, “Yeah, for you maybe.”“Just be confident.” Hawke slapped him on the back, “Straighten up, smile, and just be you.”“Garrett? Over here, you’re partnered with Dorian.” Their professor called out in perfect Tevene, perhaps with a little more flair than was necessary. Although it was indeed with far more fluency than Anders processed. “Anders? You’re with Fenris.”While the professor continued his pairings, Anders walked over to the elf that waved when his name was called.Okay Anders, you can do this. Be confident. Talk about things you like. Safe topics. Yeah- you can do this.“I have heard that there are some beautiful cats here in Tevinter. I’m excited to see as many as I can. Would you happen to have a cat?”Fenris eyes narrowed disapprovingly at Anders. “Have no pretty cat for you to pet.”Confidence, remember confidence. Anders tried again, “Don’t worry, I like all cats, even ugly ones. It doesn’t matter to me.”“I’m sure it doesn’t.” Spat Fenris before he grabbed Anders’ bag roughly and stalked off to the bus.The ride on the public bus was a quiet one. Fenris remained cold toward Anders, only offering the shortest answers possible anytime Anders attempted to start up a conversation. By the time they reached Fenris’ apartment, Anders decided to give up cracking through the hard wall the elf had built around himself. He seemed insulted at Anders very presence.At dinner, Fenris gave Anders a plate then retreated to his own room to eat alone. Regret at the whole trip stole Anders hunger. He pulled out his phone and called Garrett.It wasn’t much of a surprise when the sounds of club music blared through the earpiece. True to the contract, Garrett answered in Tevene. “Anders? Oh man where are you? Are you at the Viper Pit too? Holy fuck-snacks, this place is awesome.”“Um. No, I’m not.” Anders fiddled awkwardly with the hem of his shirt. He did want to have fun too. Why was it so damn hard for him? “Are there others there too?”“I think everyone? This place is rocking! Get your skinny ass over here!”Giving his reassurances, Ander hung up and mustered up the courage to knock on Fenris’ door.“What?”Anders cracked the door open, but remained outside of the bedroom, “A few friends is at the Viper Pit. Would you liking to go? It is seeming fun.”Fenris sat at his desk with his legs folded on the desk chair. A set of fancy noise cancelling headphone hung from his neck. “I have better things to do than take you out to meet people. Go by your fucking self.”Replacing the headset over his ears, Fenris completely shut Anders out. Anders backed away, closing the door quietly even though it wouldn’t have bothered Fenris. He went to the couch and curled up in the blanket he’d been given.This is the worst trip ever. I shouldn’t have come.The next day’s schedule had all the students doing tours of the ancient plaza in the Magister District. A tour guide spent the morning walking the class around and pointing out places and buildings of historical significance.Anders sulked, keeping to himself and ignoring most of what the guide said. He spoke too rapidly anyway. Looking over at Garrett, it pained him to see the man getting on so well with his partner. Dorian was a perfect fit for Garrett, the man was handsome, flashy and eager to be the center of attention. They provided enough entertainment for the group, no one noticed that Anders walked alone.They broke for lunch at a small café that had outdoor seating next to a fountain. Anders sat as close to the water as possible to enjoy the small cool breeze that came from the running water.“Hey! Why so glum? The day is beautiful, perk up!”This was definitely one time Anders did not appreciate Hawke’s injection in his affairs. Now he had a buddy to further encourage him.Dorian gave a winning smile, “Yes, honestly how can anyone not enjoy being in one of the finest cities in all of Thedas?”“I’m not sad. I just have some hot, alright?” snapped Anders.Dorian burst into a fit of giggles while, Garrett translated Anders vocabulary mix-up, “You are in heat! I will find you a woman! Hey! Are there any women here ready to do the sex with Anders?”Mortified, Anders grabbed at Hawke, pulling at his shirt to get him to shut up. “No! No! That is not what I meant. Stop it right now!”“Oh, I am so sorry Anders. My apologies. I need to find a man who will do the sex with Anders!”Fear sent Anders running at a dead sprint. Maker forbid he actually find someone. Anders dodged into a quiet alley where he groaned at his troubles. “Why me?”“Are you alright?” Anders was surprised that Fenris had taken enough note of him to follow. Then again, Garrett was a loud jackass.“Look, I know the rules state I’m supposed to be speaking Tevene, but now I’m afraid of what I might say. I’m no good at this.”Fenris spoke in a gentler tone than he had the night before, “So the other day, when we first met, what did you ask me?”Anders gave a heavy sigh, “I talked about the exotic cats I’d heard lived in Tevinter. I asked if you had one as well.”Open mouthed, Fenris stared at him. It took a moment but he re-gained some of his composure to ask, “Say that in Tevene.”Anders repeated his initial greeting as best as he could remember. At the end, Fenris burst into laughter so hard his beautiful teeth broke through the stern line of his mouth. He slapped his head in amusement, ruffling his soft white hair. “I understand now. You mixed up the sex.”“The sex? The sex of what?”“When one makes the word ‘cat’ male, the word changes to mean ‘male genitalia’. I thought you came on this trip as chance to sleep with as many men as possible. I thought you wanted me to help you get laid.”Anders recalled his words from the day before: “I have heard that there are some beautiful cats here in Tevinter. I’m excited to see as many as I can. Would you happen to have a cat?”Replacing the word ‘cat’ drastically changed the meaning. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Mortified by his earlier messed up Tevene, Anders spoke even less during the rest of their day trip around the sights of Minrathous. But unlike he had expected, Fenris had dropped his frown and cold demeanour and after a good laugh at Anders’ expense, proved to be quite the decent host. Or at least a great help in making out anything their tour guide said.Garrett Hawke later threw a wide grin at Anders as he spied Fenris muttering translations towards him. Anders groaned. He was afraid of what would follow this. And indeed, it took the other man only a few moments to manoeuvre through the other exchange students and appear at Anders’ side. One muscular arm was slung around Anders’ shoulder and his mischievous smirk was directed at Fenris.Anders wanted to say something to keep the other man from speaking up, but luck seemed to have abandoned him when he crossed the border to Tevinter.“So, I see you got yourself a man after all, Anders?!”“Shut.Up.Hawke!”Anders was grateful his Tevene sufficed to say at least this small sentence without a mix up. None that he was aware of at least.Fenris replied with a raised eyebrow. “Excuse me?”Hawke held out both his hands in a placating gesture, his teasing grin in a stark contrast to it. “I see, I see. I’m interrupting something. Just don’t tire out Blondie here! We need you both at the party tonight!”As if on cue, Dorian looked over and winked. Either the man had superhuman hearing or it had been his plan all along to have Hawke invite them to said party.“Have fun!”And with that last very “subtle” comment and a wink, Hawke was back at his exchange student’s side. Anders though couldn’t help but yell after him. “I don’t want to bed him, you moron!”Again, thanks to Anders incredible streak of luck, this was the moment the tour guide stopped talking and everyone got out their phones to take pictures of the old mansion. Anders yell was met by complete silence. At first everyone simply turned towards them and stared. Then a few started snickering, some gave Fenris and Anders THAT look and the tour guide cleared her throat. It was obvious they were quite displeased with Anders’ lack of attention on the actual tour. Or the kind of discussion that apparently happened behind their back.In lack of anywhere else to turn to without meeting amused or annoyed expressions, Anders looked back at Fenris. Yet when he met Fenris’ eyes, Anders wished he had looked at the ground instead. The elf gave him a decidedly odd look. For a second they just faced at each other without saying anything. Fenris with slightly narrowed eyes and Anders absolutely uncomfortable. Then Fenris broke the eye contact, coughed and followed the group that had started moving on. “We should go!”But Anders had trouble to just go on and dismiss the thought that had just now crossed his mind for the first time in such clarity.Fenris was beautiful.Not that Anders hadn’t realized earlier. But he hadn’t realized it in the way he did now. The way his eyes perfectly matched his skin tone, yet contrasted with his white hair. His deliberate and elegant movements. His… Damnit… I’m not really thinking about his ass now, am I?!Heat rose to Anders’ cheeks and he followed Fenris and the group in embarrassment. This was all Hawke’s fault! Hawke and his incessant teasing. Without him, Anders would never have looked at Fenris twice. Not in that way at least. Or at least it would have taken him a bit more time and some alcohol. Because he had sworn to himself he was done with men! And women! People in general! At least until his studies were finished and he had a job as a vet. He didn’t need any distractions. Especially not delightfully handsome distractions from Tevinter that were his exchange student.“Thinking about something pretty?”This time it was Dorian’s soft voice that appeared out of nowhere close to Anders’ ear and Anders jerked around. One confident Tevinter was smiling from under that incredibly precise moustache while the other seemingly ran away from Anders. Just when he had thought that his stay in Tevinter was not beyond salvation, it only took Hawke and Dorian to plummet him into awkward-hell. Just great!Dorian had probably followed Anders’ train of thought. “Don’t mind him. He sometimes just does that.” He sighed dramatically. “Who knows what’s actually going on inside Fenris’ mind.” And with these encouraging words, Dorian left Anders alone again. Alone with his struggles and the recurring thought, that Fenris looked quite spectacular from behind.The evening at the party proved to be no less confusing. Fenris opted for an activity where talking was not required and mingled with some other students of their exchange program on the dancefloor. Unlike the party from the night before, that they had missed due to their terrible misunderstanding this time they were not at a club but at Dorian’s family home. His father was apparently gone on an important business trip, so Dorian made use of the extravagant interior and exterior and invited everyone.The party was loud and fun and nobody seemed to pay any attention to the “only talk Tevene”-rule set by their teacher.“What’s with the long face?” Hawke slumped down onto the luxurious leather sofa next to Anders. “You could be dancing with me. Or that hottie over there?”“What hottie?” Anders made the mistake of following Hawke’s lead and looked into the direction he pointed. And of course, Hawke pointed at Fenris.Anders immediately lowered his gaze again. But not fast enough to escape the slow shake of hips, perfectly in tune with the music.“Could you stop this please…”“Come on! So, you don’t want to have some fun?” Hawke slightly nudged him into his side. “I’m sure Dorian would be up for that as well.”Again, Dorian seemed to know when people were talking about him and beamed at them from across the room. His bedazzling outfit that consisted mainly of glitter and silk would have looked ridiculous on anyone but him. The way Dorian wore it made you wish, you wore the same.“I don’t”, Anders stressed the ‘don’t’ and hoped Garrett would take the hint and finally leave him be, “want to have fun with Dorian!”“Pity! You could need some cheering up. Perhaps I could ask Fenris to help you out.”“I don’t want Fenris to…!”It was the worst possible timing. Fenris had left the dance floor at that part of the conversation and sat down without a comment. Anders stopped his remark mid-speech and returned his attention back on the drink in his hand.Garrett engaged Fenris in a very one sided conversation about dancing. And “having fun”. And Anders did his best to focus on the talk, that thanks to Fenris’ remarkable composure stayed away from the lurid themes from earlier. Although it wasn’t easy to just listen without staring at the elf. Apparently Fenris’ was quite an expressive talker. His hands fidgeted slightly with the flow of his speech. Anders marvelled at the beauty of the fumbling movements. How dare something like that look so attractive?Anders’ streak of bad luck didn’t falter. More than once that night, Hawke had to get his attention back by snapping his fingers in front of Anders’ face. “Just the alcohol!” was the excuse he always offered. It was apparent from Hawke’s ever widening grin, that he didn’t believe him.By the end of the night, Anders had added remarkably defined thighs and lean shoulders to the list of Fenris’ attractions. And four cocktails and a loose tongue to the list of his failings. He kept on talking about cats half the night, while Fenris as good as dragged him back to his flat.The next day was not better. If anything, it made Anders’ feel even more embarrassed. It was an off day from the university schedule and Fenris actually really took Anders to one of the bigger wild life parks to show Anders the wild cats that he wanted to see so badly. In his excitement, Anders almost forgot to be embarrassed when Fenris sat down next to him as one of the wild felines decided Anders was worth their time and let themselves be petted by both men.After that it only got worse. Fenris kept a polite distance and helped him improve his Tevene. Hawke and Dorian continued to make suggestive comments at every possibility. And Anders caught himself staring and admiring more than just Fenris’ patience with his lacking Tevene. It was a total disaster!How would he handle this mess, when he got home and it was the Tevinter students’ turn to visit them in the Free Marches? ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Anders continued to employ his old, tried and true method of ignoring the problem until it went away. However, Fenris, and thoughts of Fenris, steadfastly refused to go away, no thanks to Hawke and Dorian, who pestered him with endless inspiration for more fantasies involving Fenris. It was looking to be a miserable and awkward stay for him, with an equally awkward trip with Fenris back to the Free Marches. Unlike Anders’ less than mediocre grasp of Tevene, Fenris was fluent in common, Anders tried to cheer himself with the thought the Fenris wouldn’t be nearly as reliant on him as he was on Fenris, but somehow, that made him feel even worse. He tried to stop himself, but he couldn’t help but be swept up in fantasies of Fenris clinging to him for guidance-the way he tried not to cling to Fenris- when they were in the more familiar Free Marches. However, that fantasy was entirely dashed by Fenris’ competence, the kind of competence that Anders completely lacked. Anders tried even harder to ignore Fenris, when they went on trips about the city he stuck close to the front, near the guide, trying to act like he understood what they were saying better than he really could, he could make out snippets, enough to skim the surface, but if his attention wandered even a little he’d be lost. Fenris hung back, seemingly believing that Anders didn’t want to be around him. Anders was sweating by the time they stopped around midday for a break and lunch. He felt rather like a tourist, but then, that’s what he was, with the group all with sack lunches. They had opted to stop in a park, the grass and trees were meticulously trimmed and watered. The typical climate wouldn’t have treated the foliage this well without regular artificial watering. Anders covertly eyed Fenris before scurrying off to an empty table that was far away from him. Throughout the meal he brooded over his ham sandwich and snuck glances at Fenris more frequently than he’d care to admit. Hawke and Dorian had opted to sit with Fenris, apparently sensing Anders’ mood the same as Fenris had. Anders couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of them, they looked like they were having so much fun with the way they made Fenris laugh. He found himself wishing Fenris would laugh at his jokes like that. Anders almost wanted to join them, but he didn’t know how much more public humiliation he could take. He was already convinced that Fenris thought of him as a dunce. He was likely relieved that he didn’t have to babysit him anymore. The meal passed with Anders not even touching his food, he had been to focused on… other things. The tour resumed, but this time Anders lingered toward the back of the group, he had thoroughly lost interest in what the guide had to say. He would never admit it, but this also gave him a better view. Although, with the knowing looks that Hawke and Dorian shot him from over their shoulders, it seemed he wouldn’t have to. It was early in the afternoon, and Anders was really starting to feel the heat. The Free Marches had warm summers, but it was nothing compared to the northern climate of Tevinter. Anders’ mind started to wander, wishing for the trip around the city to be over already, and dreaming of his air-conditioned flat, he didn’t even notice the worried glances from Fenris, he was so wrapped up in his thoughts. He didn’t even notice when he started to fall behind, but he did notice when he started to feel faint, maybe he shouldn’t have skipped lunch. The next thing Anders knew he was staring up into the bright Tevinter sky, he groaned and closed his eyes against the brightness. Wait. When did he end up in a horizontal position. He struggled to get up, by hand on the center of his chest held him down, and a low, soothing voice told him,“Careful, do not get up too fast, you are not well.”Anders slowly opened his eyes to find Fenris, inches from his face, looking at him. Intensely. He would have swooned if he weren’t already on the ground, as it was the only thing keep his head from the hard sidewalk was Fenris’ hand that was gently cradling his head. “’M’fine, what happened?” Anders muttered, he still felt a bit out of it. The corner of Fenris’ mouth ticked up. “It seems you passed out. From the heat, I suspect. Here, you likely need water.” He motioned to someone, and then Anders realized everyone else was standing around them, all looking concerned. Fenris helped Anders sit up, but he still not release his hold, and he held the bottle of water to Anders’ mouth as he drank, Anders didn’t know what to think. It was all so romantic. When he was done, Anders tried to wave Fenris off so he could stand.“Sorry for this, I think I’m fine now, I was just a little… hot.” “Are you sure, you still look pale. I can take you back to your flat if you need me to?” Anders hesitated. He had been avoiding Fenris this whole trip, but the way Fenris was looking at him with so much concern was tempting him… Anders apparently hesitated for too long, or Fenris saw something in his face. “Then it is decided, I will take you back to your flat while the others continue with the tour. Can you stand?” “I-I think so.” Anders’ legs were still a bit wobbly, but with Fenris’ support he was able to stand. They bid goodbye to the rest of the group, Anders averting his gaze from Hawke and Dorian, who were smirking like cats who had just swallowed the canary. The walk felt much longer than it had before, Anders was still not feeling great, and he had to rely on Fenris for support. When they finally returned to the flat, Anders expected Fenris to leave him, but he hesitated at the open door. When Anders didn’t say anything, Fenris invited himself inside, closing the door behind him. It was much cooler temperature wise in the flat, but Anders still felt hot. Fenris was very close now, and Anders could see the way his brow crinkled from concern. Fenris lead him to a seat, bidding him to sit down, before he moved to the sink to get more water. He soon returned with a full glass of cool water, which he handed off to Anders, before sitting across from him, fidgeting. Anders sipped slowly at the water, trying to avoid Fenris’ gaze, before the silence finally got to him. “I- thank you. I didn’t mean to cause trouble, but appreciate this. So thanks. I know I haven’t been the best guest with everything but…” he trailed off, unsure where to go with the rest of his statement. Fenris didn’t seem to mind, he smiled back at Anders, a small smile, but it made Anders feel warmer still. “That is good to hear, I was convinced you hated me.” Anders started. Of course Fenris thought that, he had been so ungrateful… he tried to make himself less of a burden, but still he continued to complicate things for Fenris. “Right. Sorry. I just… didn’t want to bother you? I just thought you wouldn’t want me pestering you so much. Since with my lack of functional Teven I can’t really talk to anyone else.” Fenris chuckled, “Maybe I like it when you bother me. I would… not be disagreeable if you decided to ‘pester’ me more in the future.” Anders stuttered. He didn’t think he could get any redder, he could physically feel his face flushing.“Oh, well that’s. You can pester me too? I mean, when you come visit the Free Marches, that it. You can feel free to cling to me, swoon in my arms, that sort of thing.” Fenris laughed, “I will look forward to it, but while we’re still in Tevinter, I will expect you to give me the same treatment. If that is alright with you, of course.” Anders grinned, “Yes, I think that’s more than alright with me.”
10790799	His Prize	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": "Hermione Granger, Percy Weasley", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by Inell", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2006-09-06T00:00:00", "words": "831", "Additional Tags": "Erotica, Ficlet, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Death Eaters, The Quidditch Pitch: Darkness Falls", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "The Quidditch Pitch", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Author's notes: For books_freckles' A to Z challenge. My words were jasmine and knife. Looking down at her tear-stained face, he couldn't stop himself from smiling. Her hair fell past her shoulders, tangled and wild, her eyes glistening, her chin raised stubbornly even as she quivered with fear. His cock throbbed as he watched her, hard and ready, aching for her. "Beautiful," he whispered lowly, barely loud enough for her to hear if she strained forward. Watching frustration flash across her lovely face before it was, once again, resigned and fearful. She did not beg, did not plead, did not offer anything in exchange for her life.When he'd chosen Hermione Granger as his prize, a reward for service to his Lord, he'd known she'd fight. Her body, luscious curves he'd not realized existed on the figure of his baby brother's bossy little friend, was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. The pale light illuminated the deep purples and blues of the bruises marring her pale skin, brought out the red hues in the cuts that covered her stomach and legs, and caused the wetness of sweat and blood to shine.For two weeks, she had fought with even more spirit and determination than he'd expected. When they had taken Hogwarts, destroying Potter and the majority of the Order, he'd received this reward from his Lord with the blood of his brothers still on his hands. The part of him that wasn't realistic, that still wondered if he'd made the right decision by swearing allegiance to Voldemort once it was obvious the tide was turning, was pleased that his parents had been dead before they saw him standing over the body of his baby brother.He'd had his choice of all the captive students and even a few living Order members, but he'd known who he wanted even before the fight had begun. After all, he'd wanted her from the time he caught her crying at Grimmauld Place following Sirius' death. She'd smelled of jasmine and vanilla, the moon giving her an ethereal glow that had hypnotized him. From then on, he'd known she'd be his one day. It had taken him nearly two years, but, luckily, he was a patient man. Now she was his, and no one could take her away.Straddling her nude body, he rubbed his cock between her breasts as he moved the blunt edge of the blade over her skin. "Such a brave little girl," he complimented, feeling her tense beneath him even as she refused to show the fear that was so obvious with every breath and shudder of her body. Bringing the knife down, he dragged it across her collarbone, watching the blood slowly begin to spill.She was one of the last of her friends alive. The others had been used and discarded within days, a few of the more fortunate securing positions as toys for high ranking members of his Lord's army, but most as disposable as a chocolate frog wrapper. His prize would be more than a toy, though. She was brilliant, strong, and fascinating. Even as she fought him, he could see the truth in her eyes. She struggled, scratched, kicked, and screamed, but her nipples were hard, her body flushed, and she was always soaking wet by the time he slid into her tight cunt.It wouldn't take much longer, he knew. It had already started. She was intrigued by him, a Weasley that had secrets and was not at all predictable. His touch aroused her, excited her, and he'd not yet had to force himself on her. Even that first night, she'd willingly spread her legs and moaned and squeezed him so bloody tight, clenching and writhing, coming despite her shame of her body‘s reaction to him. The shame was fading with time, that evident when he caught her studying him with a curious gaze, when she bit her lip to keep from moaning, when she arched against him and whispered "more" in a soft voice hoarse from lack of use. Soon, she would no longer be kneeling at his feet; she would be standing at his side. He moved the knife across the swell of her breast, leaning his head down to inhale the scent of jasmine and vanilla, sweat and tears, blood and arousal.Biting her neck as he thrust into her hard, he slid the knife down her arm, to the bare skin where she would eventually take the Mark, matching the one on his forearm. As he pounded into her, sending her body against the marble alter in which he'd placed her, he licked his way up her neck. She was so lucky that he'd wanted her, that his Lord had promised him first choice for gaining access to Hogwarts, that she would eventually accept that she was his. His voice was low and husky against her ear as he asked, "Are you finally ready to surrender to me, Hermione?"The End
10793841	Not Your Princess	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Tony Stark, T'Challa (Marvel)", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Akira_of_the_Twilight", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-02T00:00:00", "words": "768", "Additional Tags": "t'challa-centric, Fluff, Wrong phone number, Flirting", "Relationship": "Tony Stark/T'Challa", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "Marvel Multi Shipper Mania", "Fandoms": "Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Black Panther (2018)", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	T’Challa stared at his phone–-his supposedly secure phone that only select family members, as well as two members of the Dora Milaje, had the number to and knew about. His phone, which had been built and programmed to block any and all numbers that were not on a pre-approved list.Yet somehow an unknown number had gotten through.Princess, the text from the unknown number read, and T’Challa wondered if he’d accidentally intercepted a cyberattack intended toward his sister. Cautious, T’Challa didn’t respond to the text. Instead, he waited for a break in his day from politics and combat training to take the phone to his room, where he began a private investigation of his own.He could hear his father chastising him for being reckless and not turning his phone over to one of the technological specialists who focused on hacking and cyber attacks. T’Challa’s curiosity was piqued, and though he knew what he was doing was risky, there was a part of him that thrived on the rush of figuring out not only how the text managed to come through on his phone, but who was responsible for it.The latter was the easy part.It was Tony Stark.T’Challa squinted at his tablet screen. He knew of the American. He didn’t think the man would be so idiotic as to mount a cyber attack on Wakanda, even if he was foolish enough to get so intoxicated that most of the images of him online were of him drunk, high, undressed, or all three.T’Challa tried not to let his gaze linger too long on the man’s posterior. Once he reprimanded himself for getting distracted he went back into investigative mode. He soon confirmed that Tony Stark did indeed send the text and that someone hadn’t just made it look like Tony Stark had been the culprit. He also discovered that even for someone of his intellect it was difficult to learn how Tony had broken through his phone’s protections, because of protections Tony had set up around his phone as well.Tony’s AI JARVIS was a huge hinderance to T’Challa, but eventually he was able to obtain the information he wanted, which was a program built into Tony’s phone designed to force his texts through even after his number was blocked.T’Challa noted that the program was often used on someone Tony had labeled in his contacts as “Platypus.”A skim through the texts between the two revealed a loving, albeit bickering, relationship.Overall, Tony appeared harmless, as did his text. That program however, could prove to be an issue. T’Challa would have to send the data he had on it to his programmers. Other than that though, he could simply ignore the text.He should ignore the text.T’Challa’s cell phone sat at the edge of his bed, beckoning him to answer the text even though he knew better.He knew it would be smarter to ignore Tony and let the man come to the conclusion that whoever he’d texted didn’t want to talk to him.He wanted to see how Tony would react if he responded though.His father’s voice screaming warnings in his head, T’Challa picked up his phone and typed one of the many responses any person would expect to receive after texting the wrong number. Who is this?T’Challa didn’t get the chance to set the phone down before Tony responded back. Sorry. Wrong number. That was it. T’Challa had responded without giving himself away, and Tony Stark would never contact him again.So why did he suddenly have this empty pit in his stomach? What was this sentimentality he was feeling for someone he had never met? Someone who had an intellect that could come close to T’Challa’s, but with an attitude and values that opposed T’Challa in many ways.Perhaps Tony’s intellect was the reason? Breaking into Tony’s phone, finding his program and deciphering it had been fun and given T’Challa a rush of adrenaline. It had stimulated him in a way that he felt like he hadn’t been in a while.He wanted more of that.Before he could second guess himself, T’Challa’s fingers raced across his phone’s keyboard. Come back! I’ll be your princess.Tony’s response was just as quick as the last. We’ll meet again in another life.T’Challa snickered as he imagined the man speaking the words aloud in a dramatic voice.I love you, T’Challa typed, meeting Tony’s dramatics with dramatics. I love you too, princess. T’Challa chuckled as his chest warmed with emotion. He was delighted that he’d texted Tony back.
10799460	Not That Bad	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Cassian Andor, Bodhi Rook, Jyn Erso", "Fandom": "Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by SassySnowperson", "chapters": "2/2", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-02T00:00:00", "words": "3,476", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub", "Relationship": "Cassian Andor/Bodhi Rook (pre-slash)", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	“It’s not that bad,” the alarmingly tall man said to his short friend. “Not that - Kay, I have six dollars in my savings account, I don’t have a job, I don’t have a house, and the woman who I thought I might marry someday broke up with me! It’s pretty damn bad, Kay!” his short friend said, angry and loud enough that he could be heard clearly across the bar. This was convenient, as Bodhi was eavesdropping (the right and duty of bartenders everywhere) and it was nice not to have to work too hard at it. “You are determined to be morose,” the tall friend said. “I am going to leave.” The short friend sighed. “Well, I guess I’m going with you because I don’t have a car, either.” “No, here is my card, I have enough money to cover a night of drunken forgetfulness. I will tell the bartender to make sure to call you a cab when you are done.” “You’re leaving me to drown my sorrows alone?” “You are being both illogical and exhausting. I am not the correct friend to deal with you now.”The shorter man thunked his head down on the bar and groaned, “I don’t actually have any other friends. Add that to the list.” The tall friend rolled his eyes elaborately, stood up and walked toward Bodhi, who focused back down on the glass he was polishing and tried to make it look like he hadn’t been lurking in on the conversation. “He’s on my tab, here is twenty dollars for you, please make certain he gets in a cab to this address at the end of the night.” Kay said to Bodhi, passing over a slip of paper with an address scribbled on it. Bodhi gave a nod up to the man, pocketing the twenty. “Sure thing. Can’t guarantee what happens after he gets in the cab, though.” Kay looked over at his friend, “He’s not self-destructive. Just overly dramatic and likely to get very drunk.” “Par for the course, around here.” Bodhi grinned. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” “Thank you.” Kay said, and left. Bodhi worried at his lip for a moment, before pulling another glass of what the apparently overly dramatic man had been drinking and wandering down the bar to set it in front of him. The man didn’t raise his head off the bar. “I didn’t order anything.”“It’s on the house,” Bodhi said, amused. The man looked up at Bodhi, face suspicious. Bodhi blinked. “Cassian Andor?” Cassian stared at Bodhi for a long moment. “Rook? I haven’t seen you since...”“Tenth grade?” Bodhi guessed. “Sounds right.” Cassian nodded. “You’re a bartender now?”“Yeah. I-” Bodhi cut himself off, holding up a hand. “I know how this conversation is supposed to go. We reminisce about being the only two scholarship boys in a private school, exchange pleasantries, wonder what our bullies are up to these days...but I’m going to fast forward through all of that because I need to know what happened. How exactly did your whole life go to hell?” Cassian grimaced. “You heard that.” “You were yelling it across my bar. It was hard to miss.” Bodhi nodded. He leaned up against the bar, looking over at Cassian. “Come on, last time I saw you were scholarship track and heading for great things. Fill in the gaps for me.” Cassian shook his head. Bodhi nudged the glass a little closer to him. “There’s free beer in it for you.” “Pretty sure the owner won’t like you giving away free drinks to pry a sob story out of someone,” Cassian said, narrowing his eyes while he stared at the beer with something resembling longing.“The owner is very bored, and if the only interesting customer in here doesn’t start talking the owner is going to have to go back to guessing how long before blondie over there grabs gym bro and starts making out with him.” Cassian looked over at the couple. “Fifteen minutes. Wait. This is your bar your bar?” “I’m thinking twenty. And yeah, inherited it a little while back.” Bodhi looked over at Cassian. “You’re going to stick around to find out if you’re right anyway. Might as well share your sorrows with the bartender while you’re at it. Time honored tradition.” Cassian sighed. “Fine. Okay...I got that scholarship, majored in organic chemistry, fresh out of college was pulling in 150k at a biotech company. Alliance Solutions.” “Your eventual downfall is the only thing keeping me from hating you right now,” Bodhi said, cutting the jab with a smile. He picked up a glass and started polishing it. The glasses didn’t need to be polished, but he found it put people at ease. Cassian snorted. “It’s a good job, but Draven, my boss, he kept cutting corners. There was some ethically grey research going on there. And...shit. I was fine with it. Mostly. Thought we were doing some good. Our medical implants were saving lives.” Bodhi nodded. “Anyway, that was when I met J-Jane. Jane Smith.” Cassian finally pulled the beer in front of him and took a sip.Bodhi’s eyebrows shot up. “Jane Smith.” “I - leave it alone. I can’t actually talk about it without my lawyer present.” Bodhi blinked, “Shit, Andor. Alright, going back to your completely legitimate friend Jane Smith.” “Anyway. Jane’s mom died because of some drug rushed through production by another company, Imperial Pharmaceuticals. It happened a long time ago, her dad tried to sue but the case didn’t get anywhere.” Bodhi opened his mouth, closed it again, and reached for another glass. “But sometime in the last couple years Jane’s dad actually found some leaked information on clinical trials from Imperial Pharmaceuticals. And he was going forward with his case. But then he died.” Cassian sighed. “And here’s where things get complicated for me. Jane found me and asked me to help going over the medical documentation. And I thought, hey, I can do that. Help make her life a little easier.”“Seems like a solid plan,” Bodhi said. “I assume she was the girl you thought you might marry.”Cassian took another drink. “She...no. I mean, she’s the girl I was talking about, but,” Cassian coughed uncomfortably, “I felt like saying, ‘the girl I hooked up with a couple times before I realized it wasn’t going to work out long-term’ didn’t pack the right punch.” Bodhi laughed. “That’s fair. Anyway. Continue.” Cassian tapped the bar. “So, I was working with her. While we were going over stuff, I realized her dad was using Alliance Solutions technology. Technology that I may or may not have worked on, that maybe hypothetically had been rushed through by Draven and hypothetically not tested properly.”“Hypothetically. Lawyer sort of hypothetically,” Bodhi said.Cassian tipped his beer at him. “Anyway I told Jane about it and I honestly thought was going to kill me. She told me I murdered her dad. I still - fuck - I’m still conflicted. Alliance Solutions did a lot of good. The tech we were working on could have saved my mom. But it’s still a business. Still looking for easy money. We probably should have taken the time with the trials.”Cassian fell silent and stared into his beer. The bar was quiet, only the quiet murmur of a couple other patrons filling the air. The silence was broken when the bar’s doors suddenly flew open. What looked like a dozen or two drunk twenty and thirty-something women streamed through the door. One of them wore a tiara and a sash that said “Bachelorette.” Party on a pub crawl. Bodhi had a moment of panic. He was staffed alone tonight. ‘Who has their bachelorette party on a Tuesday?’ There was a lot of giggling and screaming. Cassian looked up. He seemed deeply uncomfortable, and made an attempt to stand up.Bodhi shot a hand out and grabbed the front of Cassian’s shirt. Cassian looked down at Bodhi’s hand, bemused, then back up to Bodhi, who felt his cheeks go a little red. He didn’t want to lose Cassian in the middle of his story. He also didn’t want to run a whole party’s drinks at once. Mentally, the clouds parted, the sun shined, and Bodhi was struck with inspiration. “I’ll give you fifty dollars if you help me get through this party,” Bodhi said. “What?” Cassian asked.“Get back behind the bar, work like the devil for half an hour, I’ll pay you fifty dollars.” “That has to violate some health and safety codes-” “You’re working under my license, and I won’t have you handle the actual alcohol. You can do prep, fetch and carry. I need a barback. Please.” Cassian nodded, slowly. Bodhi lifted the bar counter and ushered him through, before turning and smiling at the group. “Ladies! What are we having tonight?” The following half an hour was filled with rushing around, pointing at various bottles, pouring drinks and working the tables. Cassian was a quick and efficient barback and even made some lovely orange zest curls. In between the rushing, Bodhi managed to wring some more of the story out of him. Cassian thought Jyn was probably right and agreed to help her. In the process of helping her, Alliance Solutions found out and Cassian lost his job. Finally the party, still “WHOOO”ing enthusiastically, left for the next bar. Bodhi grinned at Cassian, feeling flushed and a bit energetic. “Alright, I think that wraps it up. You can go back to your beer.” Cassian was smiling back at Bodhi. He made like he was going to go back to his seat, but he stopped at the pile of dirty dishes. “Let me help you get through these, at least.” Bodhi shrugged. “Sure. What happened after you lost your job?” “The company had a nice severance package. Unfortunately that included a nondisclosure rider. Even more unfortunately, I met Chirrut Fuckin’ Îmwe. Of Îmwe and Malbus, aka the tort lawyers taking on both Alliance Solutions and Imperial Pharmaceuticals. Chirrut convinced me to testify, which means I couldn’t take the severance package, which means I lost my apartment.”“And your car.” Bodhi filled in. Cassian paused. “Actually, I never had a car.” “Never actually thought you were going to marry the girl, never had a car, Kay really was telling the truth when he said you were being overly dramatic.” Cassian snorted. “Probably.”“Absolutely. To recap; your sob story is that you are providing key evidence in a trial that might take down not one, but two corrupt biomedical firms and even though your crush didn’t work out you got a friend out the deal?” Bodhi said. “That...yes. I really am homeless and only have six dollars in my savings account, though.”“Do you have a place to crash?” Bodhi asked. “Oh, yeah, Kay has a guest-room. He worked for Alliance too, got fired too. He just was smarter about saving, apparently. Says he’s pulling in a fair bit of money working the stock market. He’s always been good with numbers. Still - I hate living on charity.” “You’ve got friends that take care of you. Just have to accept help sometimes.” Cassian shrugged. “Doesn’t make it easy.” Bodhi grunted. “Yeah. Well. Look, I can’t offer even remotely close to 150k a year, but if you can settle for fifteen an hour I’ll get you on-shift here. Train you as a bartender, if you want, or you can stay on prep. Tips are pretty good, most nights.”Cassian shook his head. “I just said I don’t want charity.” “Well, tough. Because I desperately need a competent barback. It’s not charity, Andor. You won me over with the strength of your orange curls.” Cassian stared at Bodhi for a second, before he started chuckling. “Okay, okay. And thanks for listening, too. I don’t normally do this. Just needed to vent. Lucky I ran into you.” “Yeah.” Bodhi said, forehead wrinkling, “You’re not a regular here. Who told you about this place?” “Jane.” Cassian admitted. “She comes here a lot. Please don’t try to figure out who she is. And on the off chance you do, please never tell her what I said about the marrying.” “Secret’s safe with me. But, actually, Cassian, I should tell you-” The doors burst open again. Instead of a whole herd of tipsy women there was only one short brunette. She looked furious. “Why did Kay call me at eleven o’clock at night saying that you were ‘likely to drink yourself into oblivion without proper emotional guidance?’” Cassian sighed. “God, Jyn, I’m sorry, I didn’t ask him to do that.” Bodhi murmured to Cassian, “Look, I’m not trying to figure this out, but-”“Yeah. Just...don’t say anything,” Cassian muttered back.Jyn stopped her angry stalk when she saw Cassian. “Why are you behind the bar?” She turned to Bodhi. “Why is he behind the bar?”“I hired him.” Bodhi said, raising the countertop so she could pass through. “A gaggle of bachelorettes came through and I needed backup.” He set the countertop back down, and Jyn pivoted and gave him a peck on the cheek. Bodhi looked over at Cassian to see him looking perplexed. “You two know each other?” Cassian ventured.“Yeah. Cassian, this is the guy that got Dad the information on Imperial Pharmaceuticals. Dad pretty much adopted him afterward. Gave him the bar when he died.” Cassian’s face furrowed and hardened.There was a long uncomfortable silence. “You knew?” Cassian finally said, taking an angry step forward. “Did you know the whole time? Were you just laughing at me as I talked?” Bodhi winced and carefully moved to keep Jyn between him and Cassian. “No. I swear, I didn’t put the pieces together until you described ‘Jane’s’ parents. And by then you were really far into your story. It seemed...rude?” Cassian just continued to glare at Bodhi. Bodhi shrank further behind Jyn. Jyn looked back and forth between the two of them. “I am five foot two, are you seriously trying to use me as a human shield?” “Yes,” Bodhi said, without shame. Jyn tipped her head to the side. “And he actually told you what was going on without knowing who you were?” “He was very circumspect,” Bodhi quickly defended Cassian. “We knew each other back in the day, I was just trying to figure out why he was so down.” Jyn snorted. “You’re a disaster. But no, I mean ‘Cassian I-Don’t-Believe-in-Having-an-Emotion Andor’ voluntarily discussed his feelings?” “I have emotions!” Cassian protested. “That is the saddest sentence I have ever heard,” said Bodhi. “You are both disasters,” Jyn said. She wandered over to the bar and poured herself a finger of whisky and hopped up, sitting on the inside of the bar. “That’s why I told him to come here. Figured my people should know each other.”Bodhi started to say, “You know, Jyn, most people would just start a group text-”At the same time Cassian said, “That is what introducing people in-person is for-” They stopped and looked at each other. Jyn smiled. “Yeah, you two are going to get along fine. Okay, nobody is dying, I got my whisky, I’m going home, you two enjoy talking or arguing or whatever it is you get up to.”Jyn swung her legs over the bar and hopped off the other side, chugging down the whisky and leaving the glass as she left. Bodhi stared at the closed doors for a long second before taking a deep breath and turning back to Cassian. Cassian was looking at him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “You really didn’t know?” “Really didn’t.” Bodhi admitted. Bodhi poured himself a glass of beer and set it on the bar. He lifted up the flap and walked around to the customer side. Cassian made to follow him, but Bodhi held up a hand, pointing behind the bar. “Nope. Your turn. You’re going to work here, you need to get the hang of the ‘listen and polish’.” Cassian looked amused despite himself, and picked up a clean glass and a towel, leaning against the bar. “Like this?” Bodhi nodded. “Good. I find circular motions are the most soothing. Okay.” Bodhi took a deep breath. “I did not get any fancy scholarship. Mom died, and I didn’t bother going to college, but I did manage to pick up decent work as a courier for Imperial Pharmaceuticals. I was making no where close to 150k a year.” Bodhi glared a little at Cassian as he said that. Cassian chuckled, polishing the glass with circular motions. “Alright, move on to the next one.” Bodhi gestured. “Too long on one glass and they get suspicious.”Cassian flicked the towel at Bodhi. “Stop with the commentary and share.” Bodhi put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay.” He took another drink, pausing. “I met Galen, Jyn’s dad, first. I don’t know if you got to meet him, but he was incredible. Kind. Driven. And he made me ask questions about what it was I was transporting for the first time. One day I found out that I was transporting files full of original clinical trial data that had been scheduled for destruction. And by complete coincidence, I lost the data that day. Weird.”Cassian set the glass down. “That’s...criminal.”“If you can prove it,” Bodhi said. “Imperial tried to sue me, but couldn’t prove malfeasance. I was hit with a small fine for violating patient confidentiality. And the data got into the hands of the lawyers.”Bodhi took a drink. “The next part of the story will sound very familiar. Lost my job, no money, no place to stay. Galen took me in, gave me a job in the bar. Wasn’t expecting him to actually give me the bar when he died. I tried to give it back to Jyn, but she didn’t want it. So, there you have it.” Bodhi tipped his glass at Cassian. Cassian shook his head. “What are the odds that it would be you and me, after all these years?” “I’m glad.” Bodhi paused. “That it was us.”The two of them sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. Eventually Bodhi cleared his throat and held up his mug. “Rogue employees, taking down the corrupt biomedical industry!”Cassian chuckled. He set down the glass he was polishing and retrieved his own beer. He held it up in a salute, “To rebellion.”Bodhi grinned, and clinked their mugs together, “To new beginnings.” “I’ll drink to that.” Cassian said. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Bodhi and Cassian keep working in the bar together. They’re a good team. As Cassian gets more comfortable, he starts flirting without really thinking about it. Lingering glances, brushed hands, that sort of thing.Bodhi notices, but is far too flustered to say anything. Also is really freaked out because he’s technically Cassian’s boss and their relationship is already pretty fuzzy, would it be sexual harassment? Bodhi googles sexual harassment laws in the incognito tab of his computer late at night. The trial comes up, and Cassian and Jyn both become nervous wrecks. Bodhi, who is not testifying at all, tries to keep them both sane. He mostly succeeds, aside from that one time with the alcohol poisoning.(The one time with the alcohol poisoning was the most terrifying night of his life, as he rushed Cassian to the ER, vomiting. Bodhi came to terms with some more-than-attraction sort of feelings, there.)Bodhi agrees to go to the trial to support them. Krennic, the sleazy VP of Research is there and freaks Bodhi out when he corners Bodhi alone and starts threatening him. Cassian finds them, and just baaaarely manages to not punch Krennic. This is when Cassian comes to terms with some more-than-attraction feelings. But, they are in the middle of a trial and are Very Busy. So now is not the time. But then it’s all over but for the waiting and they wind up in each other’s orbits, keep throwing nervous glances at each other.(Jyn is there with them, and is so done with their doe-eyed longing. But, it gives her something to focus on that is not the fact that whether or not she receives justice for her parent’s deaths is going to be determined soon.)The verdict comes back, Alliance and Imperial are both on the hook for massive amounts of money, Jyn is now wealthy beyond her wildest dreams and is full of emotions she doesn’t know how to handle, so she channels it into work and goes off to call her accountant.This leaves Bodhi and Cassian staring at each other in relief and amazement. And they kiss in the middle of the courthouse, people coming and going all around them. They don’t care.
10759998	One and One is One	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Touya Akira, Shindou Hikaru", "Fandom": "Hikaru no Go", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Nope", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2005-02-06T00:00:00", "words": "300", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Akira wears suits. Hikaru hates ties. Hikaru gets knocked out of the Gosei league and three hours later storms out of Touya's go salon with Akira still yelling about large-scale, framework-oriented strategy at his back. Akira misses the Honinbo title by two-and-a-half moku and the escalating argument (extending shapes versus reducing liberties) gets them kicked out of Hikaru's favorite ramen place.They wander around Tokyo, Hikaru whining, Akira lecturing on the poor nutrition of a ramen-only diet and then, in a bookstore, they get into an argument over Heian Era literature of all things, and this time it's Akira who storms off. Hikaru refuses to talk to him until a pile of shoujo manga is left in Hikaru's place for his next game, although the subsequent truce only lasts until Akira massacres him in the third round of the Kisei league three days later.Touya Mejin goes to China and Hikaru's mother sends him with food to Akira's and they refuse to talk to each other but somehow end up playing ten-second go until the sun comes up, and almost until it starts going down again, and end up sleeping sprawled over each other on Akira's futon. It's May the fifth and Hikaru cries in his sleep and Akira doesn't mention it, although he does yell at Hikaru for almost burning the house down trying to make breakfast.They turn up at the Go institute together and leave together and when they're not playing go, they're talking about or, at least, arguing about it, and no one thinks this is weird, although Waya usually claims Isumi requested his presence for lunch and skips out quick before Hikaru can spend the entire time complaining about Akira.They're opposites, rivals, partners. Like black and white. You need both to play the game.
10781211	Pride	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Inell", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2006-12-03T00:00:00", "words": "503", "Additional Tags": "Drabble", "Relationship": null, "Character": "Rabastan Lestrange", "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "The Quidditch Pitch", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Author's notes: Day 7 31_october_days When the sorting hat is placed on his head, Rabastan immediately looks at the far table to find his brother. Rodolphus is a third year Slytherin, the house that their father and grandfather proclaimed the only one worthy of a Lestrange. Ever since he was a child, Rabastan has heard about the noble house of Slytherin, and he knows that Rodolphus has already made a name for himself there despite his age.The sorting hat is quiet, which is odd because he was told that it usually talked a lot. He shifts on the stool and hears the cat-woman, as Rodolphus identified her, clearing her throat behind him. Everyone is staring at him, and he feels his face heat up the way it always does when people look at him. Unlike his older brother, he prefers to be overlooked. Rabastan likes to be the observer instead of the center of attention. It’s one of many ways in which he and Rodolphus aren’t alike.The hat is taking forever to make its announcement. The rest of the kids waiting to be sorted are shuffling in place and glaring at him. Rodolphus is whispering to a pretty girl seated across from him, and she smiles as she laughs. He recognizes her from the parties that Mother and Father host but can’t remember her name. She’s a Black, he knows, and when she smiles that way, he doesn’t think she looks quite so pretty. He looks away from her, shivering slightly, and bites his lip as he tells himself not to be scared of anyone here.Finally, the sorting hat speaks. Rabastan’s eyes widen when he hears the decision, and he looks right at Rodolphus. His brother is no longer smiling and laughing. Instead, he’s scowling like he did when Rabastan tried to fly his broom during the summer. The cat-woman removes the hat and gently pushes him towards his new house’s table. Rabastan walks there slowly, feeling his brother’s gaze on him the entire time.He sits at the end of the table and doesn’t reply to the greetings from his new housemates. Instead, he sees the disgusted expression on Rodolphus’ face and knows he disappointed his brother again. He’s let his family down, too, and fears facing his father after this. He looks up and sees Rodolphus mouth ‘Pathetic’ across the tables before shaking his head and looking away.At that moment, Rabastan vows that he’s going to show Rodolphus that he’s not pathetic and worthless, the way their father claims. He doesn’t know how, but he’ll make Rodolphus proud of him again one day because he hates disappointing his brother. Rodolphus always defends him, always keeps him safe, but now his brother has turned away from him. Rabastan won‘t cry, though, because crying is for babies and not Lestranges. He looks down the table at his housemates and sighs softly.Ravenclaw might be wonderful for them, but, to him, it’s going to be seven years of hell.End
10790214	Small Words	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": "Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Charlie Weasley", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by Inell", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2006-08-15T00:00:00", "words": "467", "Additional Tags": "Threesome, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Alternate Universe, Threesome or Moresome, The Quidditch Pitch: More Than Two", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "The Quidditch Pitch", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Author's notes: My florahart doesn't feel well so go over and write her comment porn, yeah? Here's what I wrote her. Five minute comment porn. "What do you mean?"Hermione let out a frustrated sigh as she glared at The Boy Who Lived to Annoy Her. "Really, Harry," she said with a hint of impatience, "haven't you been listening to me at all?""Love, I think he stopped listening when he saw your gorgeous tits," Charlie offered helpfully, his hands moving over her breasts, raising and squeezing and seemingly offering them to her best friend."If you're not going to be helpful, just do something else with your mouth," she told her husband, her hand gesturing at Harry's rather prominent erection. "Why don't you suck Harry's cock while I try explaining this to him using smaller words?""Hmm...I think I can do that." Charlie grinned, kissing her once more before walking around her and flopping on the bed between Harry's legs. "Gonna suck you now, Harry. She gets a bit peeved if I don't listen, ya know? Bossy little swot, isn't she?""Guh," was the only sound Harry made, his wrists straining at some charm Hermione had casually tossed at him right before she'd removed all his clothes."Harry, darling." Hermione moved to the bed, sitting beside her best friend, her eyes unconsciously moving from his face to watch her husband licking and sucking and making the most wonderful noises as he sucked Harry's cock. Distracted from what she was going to tell Harry, she asked, "Does he taste good, baby?""Mmm," Charlie moaned around the hot flesh in his mouth, his hand reaching up to move between her legs, finding her wet and slick, his fingers pressing inside her easily."God," she moaned, trying to keep her mind clear so she could explain things to Harry. "Harry, we want you to join us. There. Is that simple enough for you to understand?""Huh?""Oh, good God! How on Earth did you ever defeat Voldemort?" she asked in frustration, glaring at him as best as she could with her husband's hand practically buried inside her cunt while he eagerly sucked her best friend.Charlie raised his head, letting Harry's cock leave his mouth with a soft plop. "What my wife is trying to say, Harry, is that we're gonna fuck you so hard you can't move. And when you can move, we'll fuck you again. Yeah?""Oh!" Harry slowly grinned, giving Hermione a confused look. "Why didn't you just say so, Hermione? What was with all that joining and sharing and other multi-syllable shite?""Harry, if you don't have anything useful to say," she said as she straddled his face, facing her husband as a wicked smile crossed her lips, "put your mouth to better use."
10752858	Chu Chai He Nai Bu Bu	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Zhang Jike, Ma Long, 张继科, 马龙", "Fandom": null, "Language": "中文-普通话國語", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by nevermorePIE", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-29T00:00:00", "words": "2,318", "Additional Tags": "獒龙", "Relationship": "Zhang Jike/Ma Long - Relationship", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "獒龙 - Fandom, Table Tennis RPF", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	“想你。” “你们领导有病吧，闲的没事让你出什么差啊！” 马龙看着视频窗口里张继科装出一副恶狠狠的模样，五官皱在一起像个生气的山核桃，噗嗤一声笑了出来。 “太优秀也烦昂~” 张继科哼了一声，拿手指头去戳屏幕上马龙笑嘻嘻的脸，可惜指尖传过来的不是马龙软嫩软嫩的脸蛋，他悻悻的又收回了手。马龙看着张继科郁闷的小样儿，趴在桌子上跟他絮叨今天道哥又把饭盆踹翻啦，许昕那瞎子又惹他不高兴啦，刘歪脖开会的时候裤子拉链没拉啦，每说一句话就抬起眼睛瞅瞅马龙，活像只可怜兮兮小奶狗，让他心里忍不住一紧，脑袋里打起了歪主意。马龙一边回应着张继科，一边从包里掏出袋牛奶来。张继科唉了一下，“你这出趟差还挺滋润！” “那是。你接着说，歪脖批评你什么了？” “老一套呗！说我没睡醒，天天耸拉着脑袋......谁跟他似的啊！他不耸拉脑袋，他耸拉裤腰带吧哈哈哈哈......”张继科这边正损得欢，抬眼一看马龙却说不出话来了。马龙本来慢条斯理的喝着奶，这会儿手上一使劲儿，乳白的液体顺着他的嘴角流下来了一点儿，划过他的下巴和脖颈，滑进解了两个扣子的白衬衫里。马龙刚进屋就开了视频，领带都没来得及完全解开，软塌塌的悬挂在衬衫外面。 “龙......”张继科伸手去摸屏幕上的人，手机开的时间长了有点发烫，那一点温度就顺着他指尖烧到了小腹。 “哎呦，不小心不小心，我拿纸擦了去......”说着马龙作势要起身，“别！”张继科脱口而出，“别...别擦啊。” 马龙抬眼瞥他，就看见张继科那双眼睛动都不动的盯着他大开的领口看，心里乐开花了，“不擦多腻歪啊！这黏糊糊的......”说着不着痕迹的一捏，牛奶又流出来不少，顺着他的指缝留了满手。张继科这回看出来了，他的小心肝儿啊，这是逗他撩拨他呢。可偏巧张继科最吃马龙这一套，每次马龙稍微主动点儿，他就像打了兴奋剂一样，配合着马龙越玩越带劲。这次也不例外。摸不着真人的张继科本来打算憋着，等马龙回来干一炮儿大的，可他裤裆里的兄弟可不这么认为，越来越涨的撑起了帐篷。 “你别擦，我给你舔了吧，不然浪费。”张继科稍微调整了一下坐姿，盯着马龙的眼睛说，“可惜我不能一下儿飞过去啊，要不，龙你替我舔舔？” 马龙瞅着张继科喘气都变粗了，故意先伸出一截舌头把嘴唇舔湿了，然后把手指头伸到嘴前，一根一根的舔起来。张继科看的眼睛都红了，把手机立稳之后稍微退开了一点，让马龙清楚地看到他把已经完全勃起了阴茎掏出来使劲的套弄。 “龙，衬衫穿着热不热啊？”他本来想装出一副关心的语气，可是一开口，粗重的喘息让他的话变得色情无比。 “嗯，挺热的昂，”马龙看着张继科半张着嘴歪坐在椅子上，手底下没个轻重的撸着老二的痞样，下身也有了反应。他说着把还剩小半袋奶的奶袋叼在嘴里，伸手把领带扯掉了，又把衬衫的扣子全解开，露出胸前两个红嫩的小乳头。刚才的奶渍正好流过胸前，在马龙乳头旁边留下了一道明显的痕迹，张继科的舌头因为这个发现死死抵住上牙膛，恨不得穿过屏幕把它舔掉了，顺便把马龙挺立的乳头含进嘴里边舔边轻轻用牙磨蹭。 “龙，硬的不行了，”张继科从牙缝里挤出句话，“让我摸摸你，快给我摸摸你，受不了了！”说完手底下又撸的重了些。马龙看着张继科手里又粗又长的老二，和他毫不留情的从根部撸到龟头的大手，不争气的完全硬了。可是他一只手忙活着脱裤子，另一只手舍不得离开左边的乳头，只能含着奶袋哼哼唧唧的叫唤，一个不小心，奶又洒了，凉凉的液体顺着他下巴往下流，在他奶白色的皮肤上留下了好几条泛着光的痕迹，看的张继科呼吸都变得一紧。可马龙顾不上去擦，他也离开了镜头一点儿，让张继科看到他一片狼藉的下半身。“继科儿...我硬死了，难受死了，你快点儿...”还没说完手就探到了下面，隔着被前液弄湿的纯白色内裤上下撸了起来。张继科喜欢马龙穿白色的内裤，就像现在，原本纯洁的颜色紧紧包裹着他圆翘的屁股，被马眼吐出的淫水晕开的面积越来越大，内裤前面变得有些透明，他隐约能看见马龙红肿的阴茎的形状。 “龙，你穿白色太骚了，我还记得有一回咱俩在商场的厕所里，我隔着你内裤给你撸射了。回家脱了裤子一看，你精液和骚水都顺着鸡巴都流满一裤衩了，”张继科重重的喘着气，回忆里的黄色画面和眼前眉头轻皱，手上干着活儿的马龙慢慢重合，“我是不是不让你脱来着？扒开湿了吧唧的那块布就捅进去了，你当时叫的啊，”张继科闭上眼回味了一下，手下越来越快，“浪的我都要早泄了。” 马龙听着张继科一贯不堪入耳的情话，感觉到这回内裤离湿透也不远了。可他就出两天差忘带另一条换洗的，想到这儿马龙果断的把内裤扒了，把两条腿抬起来架到凳子两边的扶手上，毫无保留的让张继科看到他正吐着水的阴茎，和被汗水和淫液弄湿的小洞，“明天还得去，跑业务，嗯...可不能穿这样儿的到处、到处跑......”马龙享受着不隔着布料撸管的快感，感觉屁股里又痒又骚，只得把胸前蹂躏自己奶头的手顺着小腹滑下去，沾着牛奶和自己湿滑的前液摸到菊穴上，嘴里含含糊糊的叫着继科儿，明明声音比牛奶还甜还软，可通红的眼角和手底下色请的动作让马龙整个人显得淫荡的不得了。欠操，太欠操了。张继科看着马龙终于咬不住奶袋松了嘴，口水混着大量的牛奶从他红艳艳的小嘴里流出来；身后戳刺着的手指也一点一点没入那个勾着他魂儿的小洞里，前面的手握着泛着水光的阴茎不停地撸着，两条白晃晃的大腿还不时的夹紧又放松，一看就是配合着后面的手指，好能插得更深。脑袋里除了操他，干他，让他高潮之外，张继科再也想不到其他东西。 “龙，过来...坐我身上，坐我鸡巴上，手指头哪儿他妈比得上我啊......乳头也得在我嘴里，你看它都肿成什么样儿了......”张继科看着马龙因为他的话把小菊穴里的两根手指插得更快更深，鸡巴不受控制的狠狠抽动了一下。 “不，不许说话，我想死你了，嗯......”马龙微微阖上了眼睛，想着每次张继科是怎么用大鸡巴狠狠地把他操开，顶在让他浑身都酥麻的那个点上；又是怎么分身有术的含着他的奶头，吃吃的调笑他，“龙，涨奶了吧，这么大。”想到这马龙已经受不了了，瞥了一眼张继科，声音都在抖，“继科儿，不行，好涨......射、射了！”说着手底下狠狠地撸了十好几下，一波浓稠的精液从马眼里喷出来溅到他小腹甚至胸口。张继科一听马龙高潮时候的小颤音，用力的操了几下拳头，也把好几波烫人的精液射在了小腹上。高潮后的两个人喘着气，像两条得救的鱼，浑身滑腻腻的，爽的说不出话来。缓了一会儿，张继科先开了口：“龙，我等你回来的，”说完把剩下的话揉进一双泛着春的眼睛里，坏笑着对马龙挑了挑眉。马龙也学他，挑着眉笑了，“你等我回去的。”
10771521	Overreach	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": null, "Characters": "Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndulla", "Fandom": "Star Wars: Rebels", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by htbthomas", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-30T00:00:00", "words": "637", "Additional Tags": "Birthday Fic Challenge 2017, Partnership, Developing Relationship, Pre-Canon, Post-Star Wars: A New Dawn, The Force", "Relationship": "Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "F/M, Gen", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Hera pops over the top of a crate, firing off a couple of blaster shots in quick succession. She ducks back down, face grim. "There's a lot of them, Kanan." Return fire blazes over their heads, proving her point.Kanan looks down at his ruined blaster. They're stuck here unless they can somehow force their way out and get back to the ship. "Do you have another one of these on you by any chance? In your jacket, your pants, maybe your lekku...?She grimaces at his attempt at humor. He does, too—it was a little terrible and a lot tactless. "Didn't go with my outfit," she drawls, her mouth quirking up. "What about you? Where's your lightsaber?""Didn't bring it." He hadn't thought to. In fact, he tries not to have it on his person most of the time, and especially not during a boring supply run like this was supposed to be. It attracts too much attention from the wrong sort of people.And hiding his skills means he's out of practice. Meditating every day and practicing against remotes isn't enough. But without a weapon, what other choice does he have? "Maybe I could try…" He wiggles his fingers in a vague gesture.They haven't really known each other that long, but she gets it. "Are you sure? If you do, and they capture us, that'll be it for you.""If I don't, that'll be it for both of us."She studies his face for a long moment. Then she nods. "Okay." She reaches out to give his shoulder a light squeeze, and the contact floods him with warmth. "I'll cover you."As she pops up again, he closes his eyes. If there are a lot of them, he's going to have to draw on a lot of energy. How much can he handle? Reaching out with his senses, he feels the stormtroopers. Each life, each presence. He focuses on the closest one, giving him a shove backward and into his comrades. There's an echo of surprise through the Force and down he goes, taking out two others.Hera shoots a couple times in the confusion, injuring them enough to keep them down. "Good! Keep going, Kanan."He reaches out for more, drawing as much as he can handle. He slams one into the wall here, pulls a blaster out of another's hand there, topples a crate across the path of yet another. It feels strange to extend himself so much, but it also feels good, feels useful, feels like something he could be doing more often to help the cause.So he reaches out just a little farther, to see if he can feel and stop the reinforcements that must be on their way, connecting them all together and pushing—and then his mind goes white with pain. He grabs at his head, groaning.Hera is at his side in an instant. "Kanan, what happened? What's wrong?"He can't speak for a minute. His head hurts, his eyes hurt, his face hurts, his tongue and teeth hurt so much they can't form words."Kanan?" She puts her hands on his face to tilt it upward. "Kanan, speak to me…!"He winces at the contact—the pain cancels out the softness of her touch. "Just—" He swallows. "Did too much…"She pulls him up, wrapping an arm around his waist. "I'll get you to the ship before any their buddies get here.""What about—?" he starts to say, and then she's dragging him past the crate where they'd been hiding. Everywhere, stormtroopers are down, silent or lightly groaning. "Oh." Then the pain hits him again, so hard that she has to guide him the rest of the way back.He implements a stricter training regimen the next day. After he can see straight again.
10749336	Faraday	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Jung Yoonoh \| Jaehyun, Seo Youngho \| Johnny", "Fandom": "NCT (Band)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by hippoiam", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-28T00:00:00", "words": "3,681", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Angels, Wing Kink, Mating Rituals, Crack, Oblivious Jaehyun", "Relationship": "Jung Yoonoh \| Jaehyun/Seo Youngho \| Johnny", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Dinosaur Shaped Lightning", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	The first time it happened, Youngho’s immortal heart almost stopped beating altogether.He could feel his pulse palpitate, a rush of blood whizzed around his veins in a furious, anxious joy that left him disorientated and tongue-tried. In retrospect, after he’d gained back the 140 IQ points he’d lost and any semblance of rationality, Youngho realised that it had probably meant next to nothing for his sometimes lovely, more often absolutely aggravating charge who couldn’t possibly have known that stroking an angel’s feathers were a preliminary to fucking on the floor.So, he ignored it, shook the feeling of warm hands pressed against him out of his mind, and went about his normal life fighting evil, saving mankind and the likes, trying but never quite forgetting about it- before it happens again.It’s Tuesday, they’re both sprawled out on the couch, reruns of whatever TV show Jaehyun was into at the moment playing on his crappy laptop. (It changed with no particular pattern, at one point it was The Office, then they’d watched Monty Python’s Flying Circus eight times consecutively, the next week Jaehyun had declared that he’d become partial to Gossip Girl, Youngho had stopped questioning it).Just as Youngho had been drifting off, face shoved into a pillow the ugliest shade of puke yellow he’d ever seen, Jaehyun reaches out, and begins threading his fingers into the soft covert feathers close to his back.Youngho’s eyes fly open like he’d just been punched into a volcano.For a moment, he’s not quite sure whether he should start squealing manfully or bring out the condoms, but before he could start seriously considering either as a viable option he glances down, and almost sobs. Jaehyun is curled up to him sleepily, eyes droopy and lips relaxed into a soft line as he gazes at the screen, unaware that he’d just destroyed the last of Youngho’s brain to dick filter.It occurs to him as a logical idea that he should just tell Jaehyun to stop, and maybe discourage his own emerging erection with thoughts of giant slugs in fields of cacti or Taeyong naked, but, because he hates himself, Youngho just lets out a low hum, and sinks deeper into the puke yellow pillow.It’s just, Youngho and Youngho Junior hadn’t gotten any tender loving care in over a millennium, and certainly never had anybody touch his wings so intimately other than his mother back when he was a fledgling. He liked it, so sue him, there was a certain charm to spreading the feathers out for someone willingly, trusting them enough to reveal the most vulnerable parts of himself.At any moment, Jaehyun could punch him in the wings and he’d be on the floor like a sack of angelic potatoes, but Jaehyun probably couldn’t punch a mosquito if you paid him, and Youngho was too drunk on the sweet pressure at the base of his wings to care even if he did.“Does this feel… okay?” Jaehyun peers at him hesitantly, teeth sinking into his bottom lip in a way that made Youngho want to collect a basket of kittens and cuddle them until he died. By now, his heart is thudding so hard that their neighbour was probably going to file a complaint, but the boy in his arms just continues to look at him with that soft, half-lidded gaze of his, shooting rainbows and naked cherubs out of his eyeballs.“Feels fine,” he grunts in return. It was such a lie, but he couldn’t put the feeling into any words other than ‘let us now engage in some frisky copulation on your hideous couch’; Youngho certainly wasn’t going to say that to someone who still liked Fruit Loops and wore panda socks.So, he lies there with a massive, throbbing heart boner (and actual boner, but nevermind that) until Jaehyun eventually falls asleep with his hands still sunken into the elder’s wings. Youngho curses his life and attempts to carry him to bed without thinking about how he would very much like to kiss him right now please and thank you. This, of course, fails completely despite his desperate thoughts of a thousand rhinos charging at him at full speed, except those rhinos become dozens of Jaehyuns, and they’re charging at him with full, red lips and he’s so, so fucked it would be kind of hilarious if it didn’t guarantee a lifetime of miserable pining.If he listened hard enough, he could almost hear Taeyong’s rancid cackling in the distance. By the eighth time, Youngho doesn’t even try to fight it.Of course, it wasn’t like he tried to fight it the first time either, or the second, or third, or the four times after that, but it felt slightly different this time around, in a way that he can’t quite place. There’s a sugary taste in his mouth that he couldn’t get rid of by swallowing, making his toes flex in restless anticipation, making his chest ache and spine tingle. Although, to be completely honest, that might just be due to the giant gash running down his side.“You’re an idiot,” the cloth pressed into the wound is removed for a second, only to be replaced with another. Jaehyun is biting his lips again, hard enough to draw blood and Youngho can’t believe he’s thinking about sex again in a time like this but the rational part of his brain that generates that logic is screamed over by all the other parts which demand that he take off his pants right now.The lead-up to this was less than exciting.They’d had a good run against the demons (or, Satan’s Sluts, as Haechan insists on calling them, to their faces, which was probably why they’d fought so viciously, biting and stabbing and attempting to reconstruct their faces. That kid was going to get punched one of these days)- but then again the demons had a good run against them, too. Taeyong’s leg will probably be out of commission for an entire week and Haechan will never be able to look at lampposts the same way ever. (That was, all in all, a story best left untold.)He’d popped back to Jaehyun’s apartment somewhere after eleven to find that he was still hammering away at his laptop, eyebrows furrowed in concentration only to slacken with shock as he takes in the dirt clumped in Youngho’s clothes and feathers, the red slowly seeping through his torn shit.“You should see the other guy,” the smile he offered is probably rather unconvincing, if the way it made Jaehyun’s face crumple is anything to go by.“Get on the bed.”Those words would be welcome under any other circumstance, but Youngho knew that it probably wasn’t going to end in the sexy gay-times he’d been hoping for. Nonetheless, he complied, shuffling into the bedroom to drop onto the covers, feeling the fatigue finally register with his body as the adrenaline wears off.With what seemed like enough medical supplies to support a small country, Jaehyun marched into the room, lips pursed dangerously with disapproval, softening into a weary sort of concern as he peels away the tatters of the angel’s shirt to reveal the gaping wound next to his ribs, which leads them to this, mellow, gentle Jaehyun mustering all his anger to glare at Youngho, resembling more a pouting puppy than anything. Youngho wanted to giggle and keep him forever.“Hyung,” he whispers, lips trembling, “what have you done to yourself?”“Well, to be fair. I didn’t do this to myself exactly, it’s just- Oh motherfucker,” with two quick sprays, Youngho’s entire body felt like it was going to set on fire. As a general rule, holy water didn’t so much as disagree with demon venom and it did vehemently resent it. Then again demon venom was pretty antagonistic towards anything that wasn’t, well, demons, as the name seems to suggest. Currently, it was hurting more than getting stabbed seventy two times or eating Haechan’s cooking or even getting stabbed seventy two times whilst eating Haechan’s cooking. He clenches his fists into the duvet, groaning into the pillow.“Sorry, sorry,” Jaehyun murmurs, “it’ll be over soon” and reaches out to squeeze his hand gently. He’d become well versed in tending to wounds over the past couple of years, and it dawns on Youngho with an overwhelming giddiness he would be coddled excessively for at least a week, which was about one of the only good things that ever came out of saving mankind- along with the fridge magnet souvenirs.By eleven thirty, Youngho was clean of dirt, blood and smelt faintly like jasmine, his cuts and scrapes had been cleaned, the knife wound bandaged carefully. In a second of sweet anticipation, Youngho wonders if it was going to happen. It had been weeks since the last incident of wing touching and he’d let his guard down a little, which made him wholly unprepared when Jaehyun rakes his fingers along his long primary feathers.“Your feathers are all messed up,” and so is his cognitive functioning. So, if Jaehyun could stop being so Jaehyun all the fucking time and making Youngho fall in love with him that would be great. He really can’t afford to lose any more brain cells at this point.That doesn’t stop him from encouraging the grooming however, purring at the contact like an overgrown, spoilt kitten. Youngho always tends to feel like a pampered housecat in Jaehyun’s presence, mostly because the younger boy was always offering him food and cuddles, an easy affection that makes Taeyong gag whenever he smells it. Food and cuddles made Youngho a weak man.He scoots over a little to make space for Jaehyun on the bed, and extends his left wing to rest in his lap.That night, he goes to sleep with a raging boner. When Yuta finds out, he laughs in his face.“You reek of hard-ons, man,” he cackles, “has your boyfriend been touching you in naughty places, angel.”He grimaces, his feathers ruffling up indignantly before a sharp pain threads through them and he stops, rubbing at the spot on his chest where a choking pressure had settled.Yuta, who was mildly infuriating at best and made someone want to run over him with a steel truck at worst, was the product of an illicit affair between an angel and a human. He never liked to talk about his parents, and nobody ever pressed him in fear of being punched. His childhood tragedies, however, did not stop him from pestering Youngho at every chance about his non-existent love life with Jaehyun.“He wishes,” Haechan rounds a nearby corner with a shit-eating grin, a crossbow slung over his shoulder, as he comes closer, his nose wrinkles in slightly disgust and he leans close to Youngho and inhales, “you smell weird.”“That’s the boners I was talking about, kid,” Yuta pulls at his ear, “and don’t think I don’t know you’ve been breaking into Taeil hyung’s porn stash lately, he says it keeps getting stuck on the bit with the nipples, that’s truly just, nasty. You’re underage.”“I’m over one thousand years old,” the younger angel bristles indignantly, “plus, cupid’s an infant and he’s still shooting arrows at people’s asses.”“That’s different, foetus.”Taking advantage of the two’s temporary distraction, Youngho slips away quietly, making his way through the barracks to where Taeyong was mostly likely meditating or writing in his journal. As the leader of their garrison, he’d been overworked for millenniums, so nobody made fun of him for doing yoga, much.“Why are you doing yoga again?” Youngho snorts (he lied, they made fun of him every day, it was truly the foundation of their relationship).“Shut up,” he groans, folding in his wings and creaking open a single eye to peer at him suspiciously, “I know you haven’t mated with anyone because you still smell like frustration and, hate to say it but, unfulfilled erections, so- why are your wings doing,” he wakes a vague gesture in his direction, “that?”Youngho glances backwards, and almost chokes on his own spit.“What in the world,” the glands burrowed underneath his feathers at the base of his wings had swollen up and were, what, leaking? He reaches out as if in a trance and pokes at it. It protests by sending a sharp flare of pain through his body. Youngho’s knees buckle.Suddenly, Taeyong no longer looks to be in the mood for meditating, “you’re going into a fucking rut, dude, that is unbelievably unbelievable. How come you’re going to get laid before I’m going to get laid?” He grimaces, voice nasally from him pinching his nose shut.“A rut? Not possible, man. I haven’t even, you know, mated,” by now, he’s panicking, wings flaring aggressively as he tries to tamp down the growing urge to stick his dick into something, not going into specifics. The ache he’d felt in his chest from last night was back, pressing his ribs into his lungs, making each drag of oxygen a novelty.“Too late to dwell on the logistics, Youngho,” he all but screeches, “I’m going to go find Taeil to help sort out your shit. You stay right here.”Youngho doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone exit a room at such a speed before.Less than thirty seconds later, he’s back, their eldest angel behind him with furrowed eyebrows. With a single glance at Youngho, he stops short in his tracks.“Has someone been grooming you?”Taeil’s mouth is open in abject disbelief.A trickle of sweat balances precariously on the side of his jaw.“Yes?”At his sheepish tone, Taeil raises his eyebrows, his lips turning into a straight line of reproach.“Yeah, fuck, I know it was stupid of me, but I didn’t think it’ll lead to, fuck, this shit.” It’s the worst possible thing to be having a conversation with your hyung when other parts of the body want to be centre-stage.Taeil sighs, turning to Taeyong with a helpless shrug, “he’s just gonna have to ride it out,” but at the harsh groan that rips its way out of Youngho’s throat they both wince. His wings are held stiffly behind him, hands trembling with the effort to keep still- even the lightest brush of feathers against one another hurts.“Is there no other option?”Taeil chews on his bottom lip hesitantly, “Well…” The ninth time that Jaehyun touches his wings happens like this:Taeyong and Taeil are gripping onto him as they appear in Jaehyun’s living room. At the commotion, the boy pokes his head out of the kitchen, hair a little messy and glasses askew.“Hey, hyungs!” He greets excitedly, a wide beam spreading across his face before he catches sight of Youngho who’s hunched over slightly, the muscles in his back and arms tense as he stares at Jaehyun from underneath his lashes.“What’s going on?” In the typical Jaehyun fashion of doing exactly the opposite of what he should do, he takes a step forward and reaches for Youngho. If he’s not mistaken, there’s almost a glimmer of arousal shimmering in his scent, it smelt like burnt sugar, thick and sweet. Usually, Jaehyun smells like autumn, all pine cones, devotion and cinnamon. Now, he smells like sex, like something Youngho wants to sink his teeth into.“He’s in rut,” Taeil steps forward, blocking their view of one another, “I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you exactly but his body is trying to complete your mating and I really don’t want to do this Jaehyun, but he’s going to be in pain for a while and he needs-”“Wait, what? Did you just say mating? Rut? I don’t understand,” his pupils have dilated, and he keeps throwing furtive glances around the room as though looking for an answer in the framed picture of a hotdog on his wall.Taeyong shifts on his feet uncomfortably, for someone who’d said ‘they’re disappearing at an alarming rate’ when Haechan had asked him about the birds and the bees way back when, it was a daunting task to explain that sex was probably going to happen within the next thirty minutes or so because he touched some feathers once upon a time.“Younho said you’ve been… helping him with his wings?” Taeil chokes out, blushing a bright, flaming red and thankfully saving their garrison leader from having to actually open his mouth.There’s a split second where Jaehyun’s lips fall open to form a small o marking the instant where understanding makes its first landing on his brain, planting a flag that had a skull on it and definitely indicated Youngho’s doom.“Okay,” Jaehyun replies, “okay.”“You don’t have to,” there’s a firmness to Taeyong’s tone that only ever comes out when they’re on the battlefield, “you’re by no means obligated to do this, nothing will happen to him if you don’t.”They’re obviously not accustomed to Jaehyun’s particular brand of determination, which is generally characterised by ignoring all advice after he makes up his mind and then charging ahead at full speed with no regard to personal safety. Youngho certainly isn’t safe right now, he suspects that ninety percent of his brain is actually just his penis in disguise. He knows that as soon as he’s given the okay Jaehyun will be pinned to the nearest surface and screaming, preferably his name.“Don’t worry, hyung,” he smiles, barely a crook of the lips, “I want to.”With reluctance, the two step out of the way and with one last meaningful look thrown his way, they disappear in a flurry of anxiety. For a moment, Youngho’s ragged breathing is the only sound in the room, the rapid rise and fall of his chest the only movement, then, he’s striding forwards, two steps until Jaehyun is in his arms, two more before he’s pressed up against the wall. Jaehyun looks at him softly, and in a move completely unbefitting the heavy atmosphere, leans forward to brush their lips together.With a low groan, Youngho pushes closer, one hand coming up to cup Jaehyun’s cheek for a better angle. The haze of the rut has cleared enough that he realises that, it’s happening, it’s really, really, happening, Jaehyun is here, they’re making out against the wall like horny teenagers and, if he’s not mistaken, it’s not going to be a one-time thing.“So,” Jaehyun gasps when they finally break apart, mostly because oxygen is indeed a thing that they need.“Now you know,” Youngho presses a series of butterfly kisses along his neck.With a curl of his lips, the younger’s hands tangle in his hair and tugs gently, “know what?”In retaliation, Youngho sucks a dark bruise onto the juncture between his neck and shoulders, making Jaehyun squirm.“That we’ve been… courting,” he leans back a little, putting much needed space between them to enable him to form coherent sentences and clears his throat nervously, “you have every right to be made with me-”“I’m not,” the smile that he offers softens the words, but Youngho’s heart still shrivels inside his chest like a dehydrated prune, “but if you want you can make it up to me later. For now, clothes off.” He reaches down to pull at the hem of Youngho’s shirt.They stumble to the bedroom, shirts flying and Jaehyun’s pants hanging off one calf in a way that would almost be comical if he weren’t so focused on the way Youngho had begun to bite at his Adam’s apple. In a single movement, he pulls Jaehyun’s boxers down his legs, dropping him onto the bed and reaching down to unbuckle his own jeans.Jaehyun lets out the best type of whimper, shivering slightly at the feel of the cool air on his bare skin.“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Youngho finally manages to discard his belt, not able to resist leaning back down to press open mouthed kisses on the spot behind Jaehyun’s ear. The younger boy winds long arms around his neck, pulling him down so that they were pressed together chest to hip.“What a coincidence,” he grins, lopsided and knowing, “so have I.”They fuck hard, but slow, with Youngho sliding in after working Jaehyun open with a finger, then two, then three. Just as he’s about to cum, Jaehyun reaches out and digs his fingertips into his feathers, right where his glands are, and the orgasm that hits him almost makes him black out. So, just to give as good as he’s given, Youngho pins him face down into the mattress and makes sure everyone in the building knows what Jaehyun sounds like when he discovers that he does, in fact, have a prostate. The two hundred and thirty fifth time that Jaehyun touches his wings, they’re in front of his garrison, shoving popcorn into their mouths in between sporadic bouts of laughter and cuddling.Haechan had already complained about their excessive ‘tonsil soccer’ and ‘spaghetti fusion’ in front of them, and adamantly refuses to sit on the couch where he’d caught them kissing just a week prior, instead finding a spot on the floor as far away from them as possible. Sucks for him, Younho supposes, since they’d christened pretty much every surface of the apartment within the first month of their relationship. Youngho Junior had gotten a little enthusiastic at the prospect of finally being appreciated by something that wasn’t his right hand.Right as the lights flicker in the film, Jaehyun’s palms come to rest against his feathers almost nonchalantly, and he begins to stroke just a moment later, making Youngho tense.“GROSS,” Haechan screeches as the smell of angel arousal fills the room, feigning vomiting, “I am a child.”“Oh just wait until you and Mark hit puberty, it’ll be an absolute shit-show,” Yuta retorts, aiming a greasy wink at the couple sprawled in the armchair, “don’t worry, Jae, uncle Yuta’s got your back.”Taeyong flips them the bird.
10735509	Elf in Dol Guldur	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Tauriel (Hobbit Movies), Bilbo Baggins, Original Orc Character(s), Gandalf \| Mithrandir", "Fandom": "The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by esama", "chapters": "6/6", "completed": "2017-05-01", "published": "2017-04-26T00:00:00", "words": "16,710", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gardens & Gardening, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Rebuilding, Feel-good, Do not repost, Don't copy to another site", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Green Lord of Dol Guldur", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Tauriel lost her position as the Captain of the Guard of the Woodland Realm. She's not really surprised by it, nor is she insulted, really. She'd lost her lord's trust and respect, she'd lost the respect of her warriors and, really, when she thought about it, maybe she'd lost her own respect as well.Once, she might've been bitter about it, maybe even angry. But since Erebor, since… since Kíli, she can't really feel much at all.She still does her duty for her king, lost respect or not. She doesn't really know what else to do with herself at this point. The world outside has lost it's golden gleam and everything has a grey overcast, like there are eternal clouds above her head, and nothing interests her anymore. So, Tauriel does what she's always done, what she knows how to do and what she knows she can still do well.Quiet in more than movement, she guards the forests of the Greenwood, defending it from all that might do it ill. It's… not quite the least she could do, but at least this she can do right. The forest is different since the Battle of Erebor. It's both quieter than it used to be – and more stirred. The spiders are still there, their numbers waxing and waning with the actions of the Woodland's guardsmen, as they eradicate nests only to have them re-appear not a moon after. There are orcs in the woods too – the scattered remnants of the forces they had mustered for the taking of Erebor. And there are wargs too.But they have lost some of the cohesion of before. When before there had been a force out there, pushing their numbers outwards from Dol Guldur, sending them out to raid… now they mill about and wander, directionless and confused. It makes it easy to take them out, if nothing else.In the first week of her own aimless wandering in the darkened wood, she takes out no less than dozen orcs and a whole spider nest, killing beasts and slicing their eggs open, watching the milky white yolk of their unborn young spill onto the forest floor, sink into the already stained, ugly earth.It's too little too late, Tauriel fears. The Greenwood – Mirkwood – is long since tainted, and even if they eradicated all the Fell things that wandered under it's canopy, she doubts it will be enough to heal the ancient forest. The poison has seeped into the ground, up the roots of the old trees, and it lives in the wood itself, now. Evil has mingled into the colours of the forest like unwelcome dye, and it paints everything in foul shades.It has, she thinks, seeped into the halls of the Woodland realm itself, a shadow presence in the hearts and minds of the once great Elven people. They aren't like the elves of Lothlórien, after all. They have no ancient defence against time and evil and their terrible combination here.Tauriel lets loose another arrow and watches another orc fall and wonders about losing battles. Erebor had, by all accounts, been a victory. And yet even now, it still feels like a defeat. It's been days, it's been weeks, since Tauriel has seen the Halls she'd once protected. Idly she wonders if they think she'd died there – possibly. She's not sure she hadn't thought it herself, when she'd set out with nothing but her clothes and her weapons. And yet she survives, eating what roots and leaves and seeds she deems safe and the occasional small prey she dares to slay. The forest is cruel now, but it keeps her fed.She doesn't go back – she doesn't feel any need to go back. The idea of returning to the splendour of those halls, under the eyes of her kin, her king who looks on her with censure and pity… With Legolas gone to parts unknown, she doesn't feel it her place. She doesn't feel she has the strength to face it.So, she remains in the forest and learns it anew – learns the changed habits of the animals of the forest, and how the plants have twisted and changed. She watches out for Fell things and slays them when she can, and tries to recall the time when there'd been flowers in the forest.Slowly, the orcs are weeded out of those parts of the forest. It's not only her doing the work – the guardsmen of the Woodland Realm are hard at the task too. Tauriel avoids their patrols – but sees their handiwork in the dead their leave behind.Eventually the grounds around Thranduil's palace are safer.And so Tauriel heads further south in search of… whatever meaning she can still find in her existence. The Emyn nu Fuin are completely infested. The have been for a long while now, and even watching them from a distance Tauriel feels the old hurt and disgust she'd felt, long ago, when her people had been driven out there but the encroaching darkness.Once upon a time, her people had a place to call their own, a realm of their own, a place where they were a people, rather than the looked-down-upon refuges of Thranduil's kingdom and court. She'd been born in those mountains – she'd been born underground, actually, during one of the early sieges when the weak and young – and the pregnant, like her mother – had been ushered to safety in the old mountain fortress.Maybe that's why she'd felt such kinship with the dwarves. Tauriel had always felt more comfortable in the roots of Thranduil's palace than in it's lofty branches, safer where could see and feel the ground, rather than the sky. She wishes, quietly and distantly like through a dream and fog, that she'd had the chance to talk with Kíli about it. Or any dwarf, really.She goes around the Emyn nu Fuin, and doesn't think about it again. When the idea of going to Dol Guldur comes to her, Tauriel isn't entirely sure, but after a while she realises that what's where she's heading. South and souther still, further and further away the lands she knows, she aims directly at the old fortress.She'd talked about clearing out the infestation in the old fortress for years, arguing with Thranduil about it, always to standstill with Thranduil forbidding any action and Tauriel bending to her king's will. Why she thinks going there might make a difference now, she isn't sure – it won't. Whatever force had resided there is long gone, and the Fell things in the forest have lost whatever led and directed them. In all likelihood she will find nothing at the fortress.Still, that is where she goes, her pace quickening the closer she gets.She's never seen the place, only heard of it from older Elves who remember it at various stages of it's existence. She knows that once, thousands of years ago, Silvan Elves had resided there and the Amon Lanc, the hill where Dol Guldur had been build, had been the centre of their realm. But they'd been pushed back, and back again, and Dol Guldur had been build, and those lands long lost.She has seen drawings and paintings of how it used to be, and sketches the ruins it had became. Dol Guldur wasn't so much build on top of the old ruins as it is build amidst them, a ugly mix of elven design and orc destruction, yet another thing once beautiful befouled by darkness.So Tauriel has a certain mental image of the place, which seems to grow stronger and fouler the closer she gets.What she gets is something else entirely. There are still orcs in Dol Guldur and they are without doubt the most worrisome orcs she has ever seen. They are bigger than any orc Tauriel has ever seen, even bigger than the Gundabad orcs – even bigger than the ones that slay Kíli and his kin. These orcs are full head taller than Azog and Bolg, and much thick in muscle.They are also out and about in full daylight.Tauriel hides in the shadow of the forest and watches in mounting horror. The greatest defence the Free People of Middle Earth have ever had against the Fell things that crawled in the shadows was the very fact that they had to remain in shadow. Sunlight was the greatest weapon against them, because Fell beings could not stand it touch. Even the strongest of dark things burned and petrified in sunlight.And yet these orcs, these impossibly big brutes, are lounging about in sunlight, even peering up at it, looking only thoughtful and not in the slightest pained. And most of them are shirtless too, their torsos bared, not a single plate of shielding armour in sight. It is all so shocking that it takes Tauriel a moment to realise what they are doing out and about in full sunlight.They are turning a field.Three of them are wielding roughly made hoes and swinging them down into the hard packed ground like it was nothing but fresh mulch, tearing the ground open easy and effortless. Another two are tearing an cracked old tree stump out of the earth, one with a chain around it, another with a long pole to loose then roots with.No, not a pole – a spear. And the orc is utterly heedless of how badly he must be ruining the blade by shoving it into the ground.They are talking amongst them, too far away to be overheard, but as far as Tauriel can tell there is none of the growling and posturing she's more used to seeing from orcs. It looks almost… amiable. Almost companionable.Then, as she wonders what to think – maybe she's gone mad and this is a some strange dream her mind had concocted to entertain her with… the orcs start to sing."… inn, there's a inn, there's a merry old inn," a deep baritone of an orc reaches over the distance as the other orcs grin and join in, "beneath a grey old hill, hey!" the orcs sing and almost theatrically point at the hill of Dol Guldur with it's ruins that Tauriel hasn't even looked on, and then they continue. "And there they brew a beer so brown that the man in the moon himself came down one night to drink his fill!"Tauriel opens her mouth like in some absurd urge to object to all of this, but the orcs keep on singing, turning back to their work as they do. The pull and push at the stump in tune and swing their hoes for beat and they sing as they work.It is absurd, all of it is beyond absurd. She really must've gone mad, lost her mind in the shadows of Mirkwood. Maybe the forest had poisoned her, given her this strange hallucination by whatever fumes it had made her breathe. This, what she is seeing, cannot possibly be real. None of it makes sense.Entranced and horrified, she creeps in close."I've never had beer," one of the orcs says, sounding thoughtful. "What even is beer?""How should we know? We've none of us never had beer," another orc says, bending down to pick up a fist sized rock from the freshly turned ground. He considers it for a moment and then throws it away. "You could ask Lordy.""I'm going to," the first orc says, still sounding thoughtful. "It sounds really good, though.""I'd rather have some bread, myself," a third orc, the one with the spear, says wistfully. "Did you hear what Lordy said, about what it's like when it's fresh from oven, all steaming and crisp on the surface and soft inside, what it's like with just a bit of butter, all melting…"The orcs share a wistful sigh."Wonder what's for lunch," another orc murmurs, peering up at the sky. "It's about lunch time, isn't it?""We're getting this done, and then lunch," the second orc says and grips the hoe. "And for your information, it's soup."The other orc frowns at him. "You don't know that, Bandobras. How'd you know that?""Well it's always soup, isn't it?" the orc says and shrugs. "And it's going to keep on being nothing but soup until we get something else than wild roots to eat. So come on, back to work."Tauriel leans against a tree trunk and stares as they get back to work. As she watches, they get the tree stump free of the ground and drag it away, turning to another to do the same while the other three orcs keep hoeing the ground in neat lines, preparing it for planting.Orcs farming. Orcs talking amiably about food – that wasn't people – and farming. And singing. Even now one of them was starting to hum some cheerful tune. It was almost more terrifying than the fact that they were still, happily, under the light of sun.Still, she manages to pinpoint the key bit of information from the utterly nonsensical chatter. Lord. These orcs, unlike the aimless wanderers in the forest, have a Lord in Dol Guldur. Was it the Necromancer, already returned… or something else?It would have to be something infinitely worse to make orcs like these, so strong, and invulnerable to sunlight.The orcs eventually finish their tilling of the field, and the one called Bandobras claps one of the others on the shoulder. "Now we go grab some lunch," he says. "Let's go see what kind of soup we have this time.""It might not be soup," another orc says hopefully."Sure it might be an eleven course banquet with stuffed turkeys and everything," Bandobras says with a snort. "And chicken legs swimming in fat and roasted potatoes crisp with salt with mushroom sauce and steamed carrots and…""Oh stop, you're making me sad," the other orc moans pitifully.Bandobras laughs and claps him on the shoulder. "One day, Isengrim," he promises compassionately. "One day."Tauriel stares after them, wordless and wide eyed, as they lumber off towards the fortress itself, chattering cheerfully as they go. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Thought she knows she should head out to warn her lord about these strange, strong orcs with their resistance against sunlight – either that or head out to clear her head from whatever fumes had brought forth this hallucination – Tauriel stays and observes.Dol Guldur is and isn't like anything she'd imagined. It looks a lot like those old paintings she'd seen, the awful mixture of architecture is there. But the fortress isn't dead like she'd thought it would be. There is grass growing from cracks between stones, and there are vines crawling up the sides of the walls, broken or otherwise.And the orcs, once they're done with their soup, work at cleaning the place up. Or rather they do it after they've sat around for a bit, smoking a pipe. It's a small thing, vaguely familiar in design, and they pass it between them in obvious delight, making faces as they blow out smoke as if they're trying to make something of it. They're trying to, Tauriel decides, to blow out smoke rings, but they haven't mastered the trick yet.She watches it all with her mind drawing a perfect, baffling blank as to how explain this. As far as she's ever known, orcs do not do simple pleasures like this – not unless something or someone suffered for it.After half an hour spend sitting around smoking, the orcs get back to work. The field they tilled is left aside and instead they turn to the ruins, to do small chores to clean it. They carry out loose brickwork from broken walls to a single pile, and loose broken woodwork to another. One of them has a roughly made broom which he is using to sweep the pathways clean, brushing aside dead leaves and small pebbles and loose sand. And, Tauriel suspects, the inside of the fortress is also being cleaned and cleared out.If she didn't know better, she would've thought they were making the place liveable. And not just in the sense orcs usually did – in which they simply settled in and made a mess of previously pleasant place, filling it with their filth. No, these orcs are doing the opposite, clearing out the filth.Once she sees couple of the orcs even standing around a broken wall, considering it and the loose bricks as if wondering how to repair it.And they're always talking. Not snarling or grunting or sneering – instead they chatter and sing every so often. They're too far away now for her to hear, but their body language remains the same as it was with the orcs at the field, open and casual and comfortable. There are no hostile gestures, no posturing – except once when one of the orcs made a particularly clever pile of loose brickwork and showed it to the others with obvious pride.Eventually it's gone for too long for it to be a vision or a hallucination, and she's stayed too long to justify mere observation. She needs to either return to the woodland realm to report what she's witnessed – or learn more.So, when one of the orcs steps away from the fortress to pick up one of the crude hoes they'd used on the field, she takes him on arrow point. Close up, the orc she captures is even stranger than at a distance. He is clean, for one – there is no smeared muck on him, no stains of dirt or blood or worse things, his skin is clean. The trousers he wear are properly orcish, more collection of patches sown together than actual fabric, but she can tell they've been washed and some attempt to make them serviceable has been made.He has no boots, which Tauriel doesn't think much anything about right then."You, orc," she says as the brute stares at her in astonishment. "No sudden moves and don't you dare raise an alarm. Come here, slowly, into the shadow of the trees."The orc eyes her, more curious than afraid or worried. "But it's cold there, and damp. Wouldn't you rather want to step here, into the light?" he says, very reasonably.Tauriel releases the arrow. It nicks the orc on his shoulder and he lets out a yelp of pain and dismay, clapping his big palm over the small cut and turning to look behind him in astonishment, at the arrow now lodged into a tree. "What was that for?" he asks, almost plaintive. "That hurt!""Step into the shadow, orc," Tauriel orders, another arrow already on the string and aimed at him. "Or the next one will hit closer to the centre."He makes a face at her, lifting his palm and looking at the nick. It's bleeding a little, and Tauriel is almost relieved to see the dark, almost black of usual orc blood. "Alright, alright, no need to be so rude about it," the orc says, sullen, and finally steps into the shadow.Close up the orc is even bigger than she'd thought. Easily six feet tall with wide shoulders and broad planes, he's more a wall of rock than a living creature. Tauriel expects a stick that never comes. Orcs always smell a rotten and mouldy, like a sack of root vegetables left in damp for too long. This orc doesn't have that distinctive scent – all she can smell of him is earth and dust."Who is your lord?" Tauriel asks, opening with the most important. "Who rules Dol Guldur?""Well," the orc says, looking at her with sort of mingled confusion and curiosity and slight bit of apprehension which she doesn't find as pleasing as she thought she would. "That'd be Lordy, I suppose – though he don't like us calling us that. It's only the wizard called him that and the face he makes when we call him that is funny.""The wizard?" Tauriel snaps. "What wizard?""The, uh, wizard. Gandalf? Are there more than the one?" the orc scratches at his cheek thoughtfully. "Well I guess it would make sense that there's more… going to have to ask Lordy about it."Tauriel's bow almost sags before she snaps it back up. Gandalf? Gandalf?! Surely not. And yet the last she'd seen the Mithrandir, he'd been aiming for Dol Guldur – to investigate whatever clues the Necromancer might have left behind. Had he been captured by the orcs here?"Where is he?" Tauriel demands to know. "Where did you take him, what have you done to him? Answer me, orc!"The orc just looks at her. "Well, he's gone?" he then offers, confused. "It was week or so ago –""No, that's impossible," Tauriel says, shaking her head, flat out refusing to believe. "The dark lord himself couldn't kill the Istari, there is no conceivable way –""What's an Istari?" the orc asks curiously.Tauriel breaths, trying to calm down while the orc just eyes her with that strange openness of expression. He's not once snarled at her, not so much as made a threatening face at her, and somehow that's worse than if he had. There is reasonableness to him that makes him so much more worrisome.You should be able to count on orcs being orcish. They never changed, they were never supposed to change. And yet this one is different. This one acts more like… like a man if something, and it is doing terrible things to her calm, to have him so calmly tell her such horrible things."How many orcs are there here?" Tauriel asks. So far she's not seen more than a handful, but they were all of this terrible, new variety."There's nine of us, and Lordy of course," the orc says and then smiles at her. "Would you like me to introduce you? I mean, you're rude, but you're a guest – at least I think you're guest. And we should always be polite with our guests, even when they are rude."Tauriel stares at him with disbelief for a moment. "No, I don't want you to introduce me to the others!" she says."I'm sure they'd like you, even if you're rude," the orc offers comfortingly."No, just – shut up," Tauriel snaps at him and shakes her head. In few nonsensical sentences he's turned her all around – but still she caught it. Nine of them. Even if they're so large and strong, there is only nine. She could take out nine, with proper planning."Now that I think about it, you haven't introduced yourself at all, have you," the orc says, giving her a disapproving look. "My name is Mungo, by the by, at your service – though I wouldn't much like to be at your service, now that I think about it.""I don't care about your name, orc," Tauriel snarls."Rude," the orc says, almost pouting at her, and then he looks up as someone shouts in the fortress."Mungo, what are you on about?!" another orc shouts. "You were supposed to get that hoe, not goof off! And Lordy help me if you found another patch of mushrooms and didn't tell us!""I didn't!" Mungo shouts before Tauriel can do anything to stop him. "There's a rude person here and he won't tell his name!""What you mean, a rude person?""I mean a rude person, what do you think I mean?" Mungo shouts. "And he's got a bow too and he's going to shoot me.""Shut up!" Tauriel says, pulling the bow string back further. "Another word and I'll put an arrow in your throat!"Mungo turns to look at her with a slight frown. "Now, I've been real patient with you," he says. "But really, what are you on about? You come to our home and start brandishing a bow and threatening good people like it's something you just do. Didn't they teach you manners where you were grown? I would've talked with if you just asked nicely. This nonsense with the arrows, it's really not necessary."It makes her falter, just for a moment, but she holds firm. "Another word, orc –!""And another thing," the orc says and folds his arms stubbornly. "I'm not an orc.""Then what are you?" Tauriel demands, cold creeping into her belly."Mungo!" a voice calls, this one lighter and softer than the gravel tones of the orcs. "Mungo, where are you?!""I'm here, Lordy!" Mungo calls over his shoulder. "Come meet our guest, he's very rude."Tauriel falters between sinking an arrow in Mungo's throat and running away – and staying to see. This was what she wanted to find out – who the Lord of Dol Guldur was now – and yet staying might prove her doom.She ends up compromising, slowly backing away into the shadows, arrow kept aimed at Mungo, as the other orcs and their lord finally appear in the sunlit field behind Mungo.Only, there is no Lord there, no terrible figure in dark armour, now sight of thorny helmet or crown in sight. Instead there is a small figure in travel worn clothing far too big for him, hands stained with dirt and hair grown over long. Bare footed and by all appearance defenceless, a halfling stands among the group of orcs, three times as tall as he is, seemingly without fear."Mungo?" the halfling – the Lord of Dol Guldur – asks and then hurries to the orc's side while Tauriel stares, her mind draining utterly empty in complete, overwhelming confusion. "Mungo, what's that on your shoulder – come down here, let me see.""Just a scrape, Lordy, nothing to be worried about," the orc – who is apparently not an orc – says and then kneels down in the dirt for the halfling to clamber up to his lap to check the nick. "He did it with an arrow.""He who?" The halfling asks, frowning and then looks where Mungo points, at Tauriel, who still stands there with arrow on the staring, staring. "Tauriel?" the halfling asks."What," Tauriel asks, almost helpless in face of all of this nonsense. "What is going on here?"There are full nine of the big, terrifying orcs there now, and they surround the halfling. Baggins, she thinks like through a fog, her mind turning sluggishly. It's Bilbo Baggins, the halfling burglar of Kíli's, of Thorin Oakenshield's company. Bilbo Baggins and nine enormous orcs and Dol Guldur, which they are starting to repair, where they've begun to farm."Ah," Bilbo Baggins says. "Well, it's bit of a story – one I'd like to start with you putting that away now," he ads and nods at her bow before turning back to Mungo. "And for your information," he says to the not-orc, "that over there is a her, not a him.""Ooh," Mungo says and all the orcs eye her with open interest."Mm-hmm," Baggins nods and then checks the nick Tauriel had left on Mungo's shoulder. "It's a shallow little thing – we'll make a poultice for it and it'll be right as rain," he decides and then hops down from the not-orc's lap, turning to Tauriel.He gives her bow a meaningful look. It shakes in her hand before, finally, she lowers it, letting the string loosen. "Good," the impossible Lord of Dol Guldur says, satisfied. "Now come, we'll have some tea and talk like civilised people, alright?"Feeling as if she's been knocked over the head and left stunned, Tauriel trails after Bilbo Baggins and his orcs, wondering when the world had been turned upside down and how no one knew about it. "… and then these fellows breached the ground and it turns out I had been growing myself some fine specimens indeed," Bilbo Bagging finishes his utterly ridiculous tale while Tauriel stares at him, and his obviously proud not-and-yet-still-orcs. The roughly hewn cup of weak tea has gone cold in her hands and she can't recall having a single sip.Baggins shrugs his shoulders at her expression. "Anyway, Gandalf stayed with us for a week or so after that," he continues. "But in the end it turned out we need things here we don't have and can't easily make, and it is not as if we can travel," he motions at his not-and-yet-orcs meaningfully. "So he offered to go for us, to get us some supplies so that we can get on with restoring the fort and starting in on some proper planting. He should be back another couple of weeks."There's a silence as he considers his own, empty cup, and then turns to one of his not-orcs – Bandobras, Tauriel thinks vaguely, that was his name, wasn't it? Bandobras pours him another cup of tea and Baggins smiles in thanks."So," he says, looking at her. "What do you think?"Tauriel can't even open her mouth to try and come up with an answer. She is sitting in old, half collapsed kitchen which they've obviously done their best to make serviceable, and there are what really amount to orcs all around her – and they're sitting around, drinking tea. And the leader of the whole impossible lot is a small little hobbit who she'd always dismissed as utterly inconsequential – and rather unfortunate – member of the dwarven company."Orcs… are grown in the ground," she says finally, and her voice comes out feeble in it's sheer disbelief. "That's… that's nonsense."Baggins shrug. "That's what happened," he says simply and looks on his not-orcs. There's no doubt about how proud he is of them. "I imagine most of them are grown badly – these fellows were pretty badly off before I came along, all starved and dried up. It took some work, but I think I did well enough.""We have no complaints," one of the not-orcs says with obvious satisfaction"Now if you could do the same with growing some food…" another, the one called Isengrim, murmurs wistfully."In time, in time," Baggins says and sips his tea. "We need some proper seeds and seedlings first you know.""I know, but fellow can wish," Isengrim says with a sigh.Tauriel stares at them – the little halfling and the big orc. "So, you intend to stay here?"Baggins shrug. "Where else could we go? Who'd have us? Best we make our way here, make it our home," he says and looks around the kitchen. It doesn't so much have a window as it has a whole wall missing. "It'll take a lot of work, but I think this place will be serviceable enough."Tauriel looks around, at the signs of repair, of living. "This is the hill of dark sorcery," she says, some small part of her still wishing to object. "Build by the Dark Lord himself. This is… this is ridiculous."The hobbit shrugs again. "Life often is," he says and also drains his cup of tea. "Not everything has to be sensible, I've found – though it would be nice if it was. Still, all you can do is make most of it. And I think we're well on our way to doing that here."The elf considers that for moment, as Baggins goes to rinse his tea cup in make shift wash basin, setting it aside. The orcs – not-orcs – do the same, draining their cups and rinsing them. As Tauriel watches, they line their cups out on the side table, each cup in it's proper place. It's all very neat.Somehow that, the act of rinsing an used cup and then setting it neatly side, is the most un-orcish thing she's ever seen."What are they?" Tauriel asks and Baggins turns to look at her with a slight frown. "I mean, if they aren't orcs, if that's not what you call them – what are they?" she knows she sounds a little bit desperate – but maybe she is. Because she can't keep on thinking of them as orcs, or even not-orcs, she simply can't."Oh, well, that," Baggins looks at his creations and smiles. "I call them Hobgoblins. It's fitting, don't you think?" ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Tauriel sits back on a set of broken steps and observes.The… hobgoblins go about their day, and their work, not minding her in the least. Apparently they're used to being stared at – when the Mithrandir had been there, he'd done much the same, just staring at them for long stretches of time. And now that their Lord has approved her and bid her welcome to stay – and she's put her bow away – they don't mind telling her what they're on about either."We've got some seeds Lordy found in the forest, some he thinks we might be able to cultivate," one of them, Bungo, tells her as she watches as they dig a small, sheltered vegetable patch into a corner of the fortress itself. "So we're testing out where they might grow.""And the field outside the fortress?" Tauriel asks, trying her best to stay calm."That's for when the wizard comes back – hopefully with potatoes," the hobgoblin says solemnly.In the mean while, they are also slowly repairing the fortress. The kitchen wall is repaired that very day while Tauriel watches, with Master Baggins in the thick of it as he and his hobgoblins figure out the best way to put the wall together. They none of them have experience in building, it seems, but they take example from the remaining walls and pick out the best brickwork they can find, and before the night comes they have serviceable enough wall put up, with cob for mortar between the bricks."It's not elven or dwarven craftsmanship," the Lord of Dol Guldur pronounces once they're done scraping the excess cob off the wall. "But I should think it will do."Their other efforts to fix broken walls are similarly done, with best effort and little knowledge, but Tauriel can see the improvements the hobgoblins make to the next wall they fix – and the one after that is even better.Then they break for dinner, and she is happily invited."It's just soup," Bilbo Baggins says almost apologetically while stirring the enormous, obviously orc-made pot. It's filled to the brim with thin liquid and as he stirs it she can see variety of wild roots swimming about – and it's not just roots. There is wild asparagus there too, as far as she can see, and judging by the smell lot of other leaves had been crushed in for taste.It smells almost astonishingly good, after the weeks Tauriel had spend in the forest eating food fresh from the ground."It's always soup," Isengrim sighs."You know, it's not going to change no matter how you go on about it," another hobgoblin, Adalgrim, says and slaps him in the back of the head. "Settle down and eat your food."Isengrim grumbles, but as their lord ladles the food out, he eats it as eager as everyone else. Tauriel gets a bowl of her own, an old orc bowl that too, and a spoon which looks like someone very recently carved it off wood.The soup is thin – but flavourful. The Lord of Dol Guldur is, apparently, an excellent cook on top of being utterly impossible."Do you think we can have bread when the wizard comes back?" another hobgoblin, Gerontius Tauriel thinks his name is, asks."Bread takes flour," Baggins says thoughtfully, stirring his bowl of soup idly. "And some other things besides. I gave Gandalf just about all the money I had but it wasn't that much, to be honest – and bulk of it will go to tools, I'm afraid. If any is left over, perhaps he will get us some ingredients but…"The hobgoblins all slump a bit and their lord laughs, patting the nearest one on the arm. "Either way, Gandalf should bring us some grain to plant – in time we'll make our own flour. For now we just have to rough it out for a bit."Tauriel looks between them and then down at her soup. She still isn't sure what she thinks of this all, or if she thinks of anything at all. It is all still so confusing, so strange, how companionable they all are, how easy with each other. It would take a while to get used to – if she ever would."Tauriel?"She lifts her head with a jolt and meets the eyes of Lord of Dol Guldur over the bowls of thin soup. "Yes?" she asks, sharper than she perhaps means to.Baggins arches an eyebrow at her and then ignores it. "How do they farm in the Woodland Realm?" he asks. "I've been through those halls twice now, but I haven't so much as seen a garden there. Where do you get your food from?"She blinks at that – and of course, he'd want to know about food. "There are gardens and orchards further north from the palace," she says. "In the villages.""Villages?" Baggins asks, his other eyebrow joining its twin in rising."Yes, of course," Tauriel says with a slight frown. "Not all our people live in the halls of king Thranduil – more live further north." The lands there were still, so far, safe of the spiders and the encroaching darkness – though with Gundabad re-inhabited by orcs, who knew how long that would last."Have you ever been there?""Yes, many times," Tauriel says, shaking her head.Baggins eyes her expectantly for a moment and then sighs. "Could you please tell me what their farms are like?"The hobgoblins are all staring at her curiously, and Tauriel looks away. It makes all her instincts scream, to be so defenceless among them, kin of orcs, but she pushes it aside, clearing her throat. "Well, I have never truly looked into it," she admits and then describes an elven garden the best she can from the times she'd seen them.Elven orchards weren't like what the hobgoblins were building in Dol Guldur, that she knows for sure. Elves eat less and live longer, so their gardens and orchards are the work of centuries, grown into shape over decades rather than forced hurriedly into lines by few weeks of hard work. Lot of elven gardens are works of art – a craft of their own right, a painting of greenery."Most prefer theirs to look like the wild forest, from what I've seen," Tauriel says thoughtfully. "I have walked from a forest to an orchard and forest again and never noticed the change.""Mmm I'd love to see that one day," Baggins murmurs almost dreamily, the hobgoblins agreeing in murmurs.Tauriel looks between them and then lifts her eyebrows slightly. She's never been into gardening or plants in general, not beyond what she can eat while on patrols – she knows the wild roots and leaves and fruits that are safe to eat. But she knows little about how to grow them, or any other plant, beyond the simple concept of putting seeds in soil and adding water.Even if it hadn't been for the hobgoblins, the sheer wistfulness with which consider the concept of elven gardens still would have been strange."Are all hobbits like you?" Tauriel asks curiously. "So very keen on gardening?""Oh no," Baggins laugh. "Most are much worse." The rest of the day is spent in similar activities. The hobgoblins wander around the fortress, cleaning it and fixing it where they can, occasionally stopping to marvel some patch of dirt which might make a good place for planting something. Bilbo Baggins wanders among them, sometimes directing them, but often leaving them to their devices until they come to him with a question."Is this food?" Isengrim would ask, bringing a leaf to be checked out."No, but it does make good pest repellent when seeped into water – where did you find it?" Baggins would say, and they would go check together, every hobgoblin following, and Baggins would teach them about the plant and it's uses. And the hobgoblins would listen, utterly fascinated by the lopsided little thing.Baggins is no conventional lord, Tauriel decides. He's more a teacher than a leader, but something about that makes him very effective. There is a solid loyalty there that has nothing to with fealty or honour or oaths – and more to do with simple respect and trust. The hobgoblins trust that Baggins will help them and guide them and teach them because he does – and in turn he trusts them to be good and kind and attentive students, and they are.They hang on his every word and he rewards it with knowledge and confidence in their ability to learn.Though it probably doesn't hurt that he then also feeds them and then regales them with tales of what they might have one day, so as long as they keep working at it. And the thing is – they're not empty promises. He's promising them nothing but better food. There's no talk of riches or comforts or wealth and greatness – just tasty food.He doesn't even realise that riches, comfort, wealth and greatness would probably come too, eventually, if he kept at it at the pace he's going. And Valar would only know what would happen if Baggins figured out how to make more hobgoblins."I have been thinking and thinking about it," the Lord of Dol Guldur says. "Considering how they were grown it makes sense to me that they might be seeded much like taters – from seedling stock. But…" he makes a face. "That would also mean that to plant more hobgoblins, one would need to dismember one, and that is rather terrible to consider. Also, if that was how they were planted, surely you'd see something of the original version in them and…"And the hobgoblins seem less and less like orcs the longer Tauriel looks at them. They are bigger and stronger, their skin a lot darker – and the jagged sharpness of usual orcs and goblins isn't there. Their teeth are blunt, their nails worn done to blunt edges, and they move with casual saunter, not with jagged jerks.They're soft in some way. Pliable and yet sturdy and mighty."I still cannot wrap my mind around the concept that you grew them from the ground," Tauriel admits, watching the hobgoblins go about. "I have never heard anything like it.""Me neither, I don't think even Gandalf knew," Baggins admits. "I suppose no one's ever looked into how goblins and orcs are born. It makes sense now that there are no women folk among them though."Tauriel wonders, for one terribly mad moment, whether hobgoblins had sexual organs. Then she closes her eyes and tries her best to purge the thought from her mind.The hobgoblins aren't the only thing Baggins has tamed with his simple, impossible ways. There are wargs in the fortress too.The first time Tauriel sees one of them, she almost goes for her bow. It's still a juvenile – but a juvenile warg is already the size of a hobbit, and when it makes a mad dash for the Lord of Dol Guldur, Tauriel's instinct is to put it down before it can kill the hobbit.But then Baggins stops it with a firm, "No, no jumping," and then, "sit!" which the warg does, wagging it's stumpy tail happily and giving a grin full of teeth at the hobbit. Baggins grins back at it. "Good girl," he says and goes about scratching the beast all over it's head. "There's a very good girl."Tauriel stares and the Lord of Dol Guldur shrugs. "They're going to grow up to be ten times my weight," he says, a little defensively. "If not more. I can't exactly let them get used to jumping on people – they'll end up crushing me once they're fully grown."Tauriel opens her mouth and then closes it, a little confused and not entirely sure what Baggins is being defensive about. For reprimanding the beast? "I see," she settles on saying, as she puts her bow and arrow away again. "But what do you mean, they? You mean to say there is more than this one?""There's six of them," Baggins explains while scratching the warg's ears. "A whole litter – we figure the orcs left them behind because they were too young to travel fast."Six wargs pups which wander freely about Dol Guldur, nosing at everything curiously and playing with everything that they deem a toy. The residents of the fortress even encourage them, playing fetch with the beasts when ever they take break from their work. Hobgoblin can throw a stick pretty far, it turns out – but a hobbit can throw it exactly where he means to.And the wargs love it – and they seem to live for their master's every praise and scratch and the occasional belly rub. They act more like dog puppies than the beasts they're supposed to be. They are otherwise different from the wargs Tauriel has seen – and slain – before, too. For one they're cleaner and for two they're nowhere near as ugly. They look more like wolves, rather than the misshapen monstrosities she's more used to seeing.It unpleasant and strangely surprising realise that orcs might actually mutilate the faces of their wargs intentionally. Of course it seems like something an orc might do, and yet… it's still shocking. Whether they do it to make the beasts more intimidating or easier to control, Tauriel is not sure – but most wargs she's seen have at least some damage done to their eyes and noses.Without sight, without proper scent… and what are probably regular, terrible beatings, a warg would be easy to force into submission.Somehow Dol Guldur has now made Tauriel feel sympathy for wargs. She's not sure how she likes it. Tauriel lingers at Dol Guldur until it gets too late to leave and she is both dismayed and utterly unsurprised by how easily Baggins and his hobgoblins offer her a place to stay the night."There's not much in way of bedding, I'm afraid – we're all sleeping on beds of dry grass and leaves with sack cloth thrown over them," Baggins admits. "But it beats hard ground, I think."Tauriel debates accepting the easy welcome fiercely in the privacy of her mind. On one hand, she's spend a day observing the hobgoblins and not a single one of them has shown so much as a violent thought, never mind putting one into action. But on other hand, they are still of orcish stock, and even after everything she's seen it is impossible to not believe that there must be something evil in them.Centuries of instincts and knowledge and terrible experiences is hard to shake, even at the face of friendly hobgoblins playing with equally friendly wargs. But then, that very thought is so ludicrous that she's still not entirely sure she hasn't simply lost her mind completely."Thank you, but that won't be necessary," Tauriel says at last. Baggins looks so disappointed and dejected that quickly she amends with, "I mean, the bed won't be necessary. Elves do not sleep."That pulls him to a halt. "You don't sleep?" he asks in astonishment. "Really?"Tauriel shakes her head. "We do rest, but it is not the same as sleep – it's more of a meditation, and I can do that where ever it is comfortable enough to sit for a while.""Huh," the hobbit says, eying her. "I never knew that," he admits. "I guess orcs aren't the only race I know nothing about. Fancy that. Well, you're welcome to stay and, uh, meditate, here."Tauriel nods, still a little torn about it, but for now decided.There is something happening here – and she thinks what it is now. As the Lord of Dol Guldur bids her a friendly good night and turns to corral his sleepy hobgoblins to their beds, Tauriel looks after him and wonders if he knows, if he realises what he is doing here, the change, the incredible change, he is making.The world has been settled on it's course for centuries. Dwarves dig, elves fade, humans die and orcs kill and nothing changes. Only here, here there is change.Here, green things are growing from under the cracked old brickwork of long lost civilisations and new light shines upon the shadows cast into the present by their ancient wars. And Bilbo Baggins doesn't care that he's walking barefoot on ancient convention, tracking mud and dirt all over it.He just wants to grow things and grow them well.Tauriel sits back in a warm corner of the kitchen where she has a window on her right for an easy escape and the door in full view. Cross legged, she lets her mind fall empty, lets the experiences of the day seep in and then pass into her memory and into acceptance.She thinks she might stay here for a while and see what becomes of Dol Guldur, what it's new lord makes of it. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- By the time the Mithrandir comes back to Dol Guldur, Tauriel has seen the fortress change and change and change again. Things move fast at the hill of dark sorcery now, for all that it looks like it doesn't. Broken things get repaired, and new things get planted every day, and the place transforms.Fixing things, rebuilding them, and planting new things in their shelter, makes for a greater difference than she thinks she's ever realised. Like all elves she's used to change being either slow and near invisible – and usually not for the better. Things built to last slowly break and are ruined, they crumble and falter and come to dust. The encroachment of time is a slow and steady and usually impossible to halt.She's too young to have seen things being build – the world was already old and fading when she was born, and all Tauriel has ever known was the shadow of ancient design. It exists in Dol Guldur where you stand under the arches of the old Silvan city, it exists in the Woodland Realm which is older yet. Erebor and Dale were already old when she was born as well, and though she's seen the building of Laketown, it too was build on ruins.The times of great building and great innovation have always been things of history to her, distant and long ago and impossible to see again. Nothing new has ever emerged in her time – only the attempts to renew the old, usually with less than great results.Dol Guldur is like that too – something ancient that's being made new. But there is still something about it that strikes a chord with her. Because the hobgoblins aren't attempting to simply rebuild what's there. They don't care about the history of Dol Guldur, they don't care about the Dark Lord's occupation, or the great city of Silvan elves that once stood there, the hill's history means nothing to them."It's all a bit too grand, really, all these towers," Bandobras says, peering up at the ancient stone towers, reaching for the overcast sky above them. "Lordy says hobbits build under dirt if they can manage, their greatest houses are smials, holes dug into hills. That way they can have garden right on top of their houses, see? Now that seems sensible to me.""This place is a fortress," Tauriel says, also looking up. The hobgoblins haven't yet started repairing the old towers of the Silvan elves – they've mostly concentrated onto those one and two storey houses they are actually using in the fortress. "The idea was to fit as many people as you may in small space, and surround it in walls to keep if safe from invasion and to stand a siege.""War," Bandobras huffs and folds his meaty arms. "There ain't no war here."Tauriel frowns a little at that and turns to the hobgoblin. "War might come," she says solemnly. "This place is in terribly advantageous position, for anyone aiming to strike at the kingdoms of east. That's why Dark Lord took it – it was good place to solidate power for attacks against the Woodland realm, and against Erebor, and Dale, and the Iron Hills."She looks at the houses they've rebuild, the walls they've repaired, the supports they'd put in place to keep them from collapsing again. "You are making this place liveable and you might make it defensible again. You're making fields and planting gardens and are aiming to grow your own food here. That might make this place attractive again for hostile take over.""Hrmh," Bandobras answers and also considers the walls, the buildings. "I guess it ain't like Shire," he says a bit sadly. "Shire's surrounded by Men, and so far from all the great places that no one much cares for it, except to steal food maybe. Or that's what Lordy tells us anyway."Tauriel thinks of the location of Shire. Once it had been in more advantageous position – but the days of the northern kingdoms is long gone, the Grey Havens are all but empty and the Blue Mountains from what she's heard are poor. "There isn't strategic value to Shire these days, no," she admits."So I figured," Bandobras says and then sighs. "Well I guess there's nothing to it. Can you tell me about war, Tauriel?""Why?" she asks, and even after days spend in the company of the kindly hobgoblins, a spark of suspicion rises."So that we can keep it from coming to here, of course," the hobgoblin says and stands up. He looks both resigned and resolute. "Dol Guldur isn't much of a place, but it's our home. It's the only home we got, even Lordy doesn't think we could settle anywhere else safely. So, if this place might be usable in war or whatever, we ought to know how to defend it from it, don't we?"Tauriel blinks at him, at the simple, straightforward logic of it, and his obvious distaste. That still strikes her as so very strange, how un-warlike the hobgoblins are. Like their lord they find fighting to be so much terrible nonsense. But, also like their lord, they are apparently willing to stomach it if they absolutely have to."Bandobras," she says slowly. "Do you want to learn how to fight?"He sighs. "I really don't," he says. "It sounds like terrible business, swords and knifes and whatnot. But I suppose I might as well." At some point it dawns on Tauriel that she is living at Dol Guldur. As the days pass and she watches the inhabitants of the fortress, she realises that she is past the point of mere curiosity and observation – that she has stopped making travel plans for the Woodland Realm, that the idea of warning Thranduil is no longer in the forefront of her mind.She has her own room in the fortress now, recently rebuild and refurbished with the best they could find around the ruins. She has a nice table and chair and bookshelf and even a bed though she doesn't use it. She's had two baths in the fortress, a full on baths where she carried the water herself from the well and heated it up and filled a large tub with it, all just because… well because she could – and because the hobgoblins did it too. She's even put aside her travel cloak, and her bow stays in her room more than not.Tauriel is no longer merely staying a while, she is living in the place – and though it's not quite home, it is something that she isn't sure Woodland Realm ever was. Somewhere along the way, she begun to believe in the Lord of Dol Guldur and his hobgoblins.She could backtrack still, she knows. She could back away from this, could leave, return to the north and re-establish herself as the Elf of the Woodland Realm, rather than whatever she is here. She could still turn her back to all of this, and return to what she was and what she had before. Only… only she doesn't want to.In Thranduil's halls they are eternally under the forest canopy and in it's shadow. Everything is going grey there, the colours faded to eternal hues of autumn. And she doesn't want to go back to it now, after having watched green things beginning to sprout in Dol Guldur."Elves are in their autumn years," Tauriel shares with the Lord of Dol Guldur, not sure why but feeling like she must voice the thought to someone, and Legolas who once shared it with her is gone. "Their greatness is thousands of years in the past, and they all fade. Time wears on them, and more and more leave for the Grey Havens and for Valinor every year."Bilbo Baggins eyes her sympathetically. "It did feel like time had a terrible weight in the Woodland Realm," he says. "Not so much in Rivendell, though, now that I think about it.""Rivendell is kept by magic," Tauriel says. "Rivendell and Lothlórien are protected from the wear of ages by their rulers – suspended on the knife edge of false vitality. They are the only ones, however – everywhere else, magic ages and fades and elves with it. They grow weary.""I suppose people so old would eventually tire out," Bilbo muses. "I can't ever wrap my mind around the age of elven folk – hobbits only live a hundred years if so much. The idea of living for centuries, for thousands of years, it is too big a thought to fit in the head of a hobbit, I'm afraid. No offence meant.""None taken – and I understand," Tauriel smiles faintly. "I was born into these autumn years of my people. I am one of the youngest in the Woodland Realm. So sometimes I cannot wrap my head around it either. I've watched the fading of my people all my life – but…"She trails off, not quite sure how to word the concept that has been growing in her mind, which beats with every breath she takes, growing stronger. Bilbo Baggins watches her patiently and then turns his attention to the pipe he is fiddling with – the stem had cracked and he's been hoping to repair it.Repair it, like they are repairing the fortress.Tauriel leans her head back and looks up and to the sky. Woodland Realm grows old. They are always in eternal, dim glow of overcast, and the people are bleached of colour and emotion. Thranduil grows suspicious and twisted in his old age, and the Woodland Realm does the same with him, and everything is growing crooked with age.Dol Guldur is old and crooked too, but it's also new. Light shines on the fortress hard and strong and without hindrance, almost oppressive with how powerful it seems – and it's all the better for it. It highlights the flaws and faults along the buildings, but it also feeds the plants – and the people. In Dol Guldur… there is spring."I am not fading," Tauriel admits finally, quietly, like it's a secret.Her people are old and her heart yet hollow, longing for the love she could've had in Kíli and lost. And maybe that's why she'd loved him so fast and so desperate – because like her he'd been young, like her he'd been passionate. He had made her feel alive, and young and strong. But he is gone and though she thought the loss would strangle her, it hadn't. It had left scars, but it wouldn't claim her.She isn't fading.The next day, Tauriel grabs a shovel and joins the hobgoblins in upturning yet another patch of dirt for planting of new life, and feels stronger for it. When the Mithrandir comes, it is with quite the entourage. He comes sitting on a cart pulled by cows, with three goats trailing after it on a leash. On the cart there are barrels and boxes and cages full of chickens. He looks quite pleased with himself when the hobgoblins and the Lord of Dol Guldur go to greet him at the end of the causeway, laughing with obvious pleasure at their open astonishment."How on earth did you manage this?" Bilbo Baggins demands. "There wasn't anywhere near enough money for this!""I might have pitched in myself and perhaps put myself in a small debt," the Istari says with a slight wink as he swings down. "I will reimburse myself and those I now owe money to from the troll cave the next time I head for the west, but that is concern for later time." He turns to Tauriel and his bushy eyebrows lift. "Well now, this is a surprise. Tauriel, Captain of the Guard of the Woodland Realm""Mithrandir," Tauriel says, and bows her head. "I am not the Captain of the Guard anymore, I'm afraid.""Hrm, no I don't suppose you would be," the wizard says and then glances at the Lord of Dol Guldur."She's welcome to stay here as long as she'd like, forever if she wants," Bilbo Baggins says, waving a dismissive hand. His attention is fully on the cart, and he is already clambering up it's side. "Oh good lord Gandalf, you got me goose eggs.""I did indeed, though the goose themselves were rather stretching for my funds after I got the cows and the goats," the Mithrandir admits. "I also got little something for you boys," he adds and then reaches past Bilbo to tug open a sack, half hidden behind a barrel.Tauriel peers in and then smiles, amused."Is that –?!" Isengrim breathes in delighted shock."Wheat flour," Gandalf says with obvious smugness. "I also managed to secure some fine yeast."The Lord of Dol Guldur grins. "I suppose we need to set up a proper oven, then," he says, and looks at the hobgoblins. "Can't make bread without a oven, now, can we?""Can we do that today?" Bungo asks, leaning in. "Lordy please can we do that now?""First we need to get all this inside – and make pens for our new animals," Bilbo Baggins says, smiling, and then prods and pokes at the things Gandalf had brought them. "Oh this feels like Yule! Now what else is here…""Seeds and more seeds, and some food too," Gandalf says, folding his arms and watching with pride as the Lord of Dol Guldur examines the cart. "Tools for farming and blacksmithing and I even got you a loom, though sadly none in the village had any sheep to sell. Various little things, needles and such… hrm what else was there… the cart itself of course…"Sadly there is no bread that day – the rest of the day is spend in getting the animals settled in, getting the wargs used to them and making sure there'd be no accidents with the chicken. Then they go over the things the wizard had brought, which takes most of the rest of the light hours. The wizard, it turns out, had brought them quite a bit."Tomorrow we'll be planting some potatoes," the Lord of Dol Guldur says happily. "They've already sprouted!"There is still something of a feast that night, even if it is lacking bread, as Bilbo takes the salted meats and cheeses and other things Gandalf had brought and whips up a fuller meal than they've any of them had in days – or in the case of the hobgoblins, ever.It is a feast greater than any banquet Tauriel has partaken in the Woodland Realm. Every simple piece of food is it's own delight, and the milk one of the cows had been good enough to produce is pronounced the greatest drink on earth by the hobgoblins. Not to mention the cheese, oh, the cheese!Tauriel nibbles on her share of it slowly, savouring it in a way she's never savoured cheese before. She doesn't partake in the roasted meat, though Bilbo did crack and fry an egg for her, which is it's own luxury. She's not sure she's ever found such pleasure in simple food, but she has to admit, she is in no way poorer for having been infected by the ways of the hobgoblins there."Now I am curious about you being here, Tauriel," Gandalf says, watching the joyous feasting from the side while smoking a pipe. "I feared that should elves come here, they might attack first and not ask questions at all. You obviously didn't, which is honestly quite surprising for warrior such as yourself.""She did take me as a hostage on arrow point!" Mungo pipes in, grinning toothily at her."Just for a moment. You were a delightful hostage, Mungo," Tauriel says with a faint smile, and he toasts her with his cup of milk. Shaking her head, she turns to the Mithrandir. "The first I saw these fine hobgoblins, they were turning a field and lamenting over food. It was… rather bewildering, so I erred on side of observation.""So you came here alone?" the wizard asks, looking her over. Tauriel has dirt under her fingernails now, and her trouser legs and boots are all stained. "That is interesting."Tauriel looks at the piece of cheese in her hand. "After the battle of Erebor, I couldn't settle in the halls of the Woodland Realm. I lost my position there and Thranduil's trust in me was lost, and I couldn't… I couldn't settle. So I took to the forest, to patrol the boarders of the realm.""I take it you didn't stay there.""For years I argued with Thranduil that we should clear the infestation of darkness here," Tauriel admits. "I suppose I came here to do it myself, now that nothing stopped me. Only, I found no darkness here."Gandalf eyes her consideringly for a moment and then he smiles and nods. "No," he agrees. "There is no darkness here, not anymore."Tauriel nods and takes another slow bite of her cheese, closing her eyes for a moment and enjoying the thick, salty taste. "Did you know that orcs are grown in the ground?" she then asks, and the incredulity still seeps into her voice.Gandalf laughs. "No, no I did not," he admits. "But it doesn't surprise me in the slightest that a hobbit grows them better than anyone."No, Tauriel muses. It doesn't surprise her either, not anymore. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Tauriel still patrols, only now she does it for Dol Guldur, rather than against it. The reputation of the fortress protects it, people do not come near it, but there are still many fell beasts in the Greenwood, that might seek shelter in the ruins. So, she patrols, to protect the home she is making among the hobgoblins and their little lord.Mostly it is quiet around the fortress. There are hints of beasts – warg tracks aren't uncommon and once or twice she's seen footprints of orc boots, but they all lead away from the fortress, as if they'd known it wasn't a welcoming place for them. Dol Guldur has a new aura now, and it doesn't promote the dark sickness of before – so, beasts avoid it, more than not.So there isn't much to patrol the fortress from. As it is, the great ruins are surrounded by cliffs on almost all sides, connected to the forest only by causeways, easy to defend in a pinch. That was what had always made the hill of Amon Lanc and later Dol Guldur so attractive for an occupation. Take out the causeways, and the hill was impossible to invade.Tauriel walks the forest anyway, partially out of habit and partially to just… clear her head for a while. It still strikes her at odd times, how strange this new life she's leading is, and whether madness was likely explanation after all. Sometimes, she can't help but doubt her loyalty. Walking the forest helps her feel like an elf.The forest around Dol Guldur is both worse and better off than the rest of Greenwood. The poison is deep rooted here, the trees are twisted and dead more than they're not, and the sheer age of the evil that had occupied Dol Guldur is almost an tangible sensation here. And yet… there is new life.Now that they had proper axes and saws, Tauriel knows the hobgoblins would be taking the old trees down. It's a concept always a little uncomfortable for a wood elf, but here, here she cannot wait for it. So many of these trees are in such a terrible state, if they're alive at all – if they're not in terrible pain, then they are horribly corrupted. Death of such old trees should be a tragedy – but it is not. Their lives are tragedies.And it is not as if it would be destruction for the sake of destruction – or even production. Here, the death of trees would only promote new growth – because it is not as if the Lord of Dol Guldur wouldn't plant new trees. No, he's already planning where to plant them.And so, with the poisoned trees gone and healthy ones planted in their place, the earth would heal.Breathing in deep, Tauriel lets the thought seep in. There is a philosophy there that is as old as the earth and yet completely new to her. She thinks she likes it better than the strong minded, relentless preservation of old.Then, a scent catches her nose and her eyes snap open.It's a thick, cloying scent of rotting flesh, one she knows very well. It is the smell of a carcass hung up and smothered in web, filled with poisons to soften it, to putrefy it.Spiders.Quick, she takes her bow in hand and strings an arrow, and then, silent as only elf – and perhaps a hobbit –can be, she stalks forward, towards the scent.She finds the nest in no time at all – following the trails of webs that have appeared to that side of the forest to their centre. There, a clearing is has already been covered in webbing, layers and layers of them hung between the trees. The carcass she smells is what looks like a warg – the awkwardly misshapen shape of the webbed up body is too thick and too short to be a man or an elf, and not slender enough to be an deer.Half a dozen spiders maybe – but no egg sacks as far as she can see, not yet anyway.Tauriel's first instinct is to find the beasts and slay them before they can try and lay any eggs and multiply their numbers, as she has done for decades. Letting this nest set roots here is beyond question – not here, not this close to Dol Guldur, to home.Better destroy it now and be done with it.She hears the skitter of spider in the distance, and quickly aims her arrow there, waiting.Then, a thought comes to her.Thought of what amounts to orcs, turned kindly and peaceful. Thought of young, still clumsy wargs, trained into obedience with kindness and treats. She doubts very much the Lord of Dol Guldur could ever manage such a miracle with the spawn of Ungoliant. And yet…And yet, she couldn't have imagined it possible with orcs or wargs at all!Indecisive, Tauriel hesitates just for a moment. Then she puts her arrow away and slings her bow over her shoulder and backs away.She can be at the fortress in few hours, and back here in few more to clear the nest, if it comes to it. The Lord of Dol Guldur and his hobgoblins are done planting for the moment and are apparently taking a break. They all of them have pipes now, and their own tobacco, and they're all smoking happily as they puzzle over something when Tauriel arrives."Tauriel, there you are," Bilbo Baggins says. "Here, come and tell us where we got this wrong."She peers over him to see the mess of wood and string they are trying to make. "Is that the loom?""It is what is supposed to be a loom, but I'm afraid we none of us know how to work one," the Lord of Dol Guldur admits."I'm still saying we didn't put the pedal on right," Adalgrim says. "Of course it doesn't work when the pedal isn't even connected.""I don't suppose you might've ever seen an elven loom?" Bilbo Baggins asks hopelessly. "We had a loom in Bagend when I was young, but I'm afraid I never looked into the mechanisms – and I gave it away when my mother died. I've quite forgotten everything about the old thing, I'm afraid.""You think I know anything about weaving?" Tauriel asks, amused."I was hoping you might've at least seen a loom more recently than I have," the hobbit sighs and scratches at his scalp, sending his curls swaying. "And Gandalf is no help, even though her bought this thing."Tauriel considers the contraption and then shakes her head. "Elven looms have no mechanisms," she admits. "I don't even know what you would do with pedals on a loom."The Lord of Dol Guldur sighs. "Well I suppose we'll have plenty of time to figure it out. It is not as if we have any yarn to actually try on it. Still, it would be nice to be able to make our own fabrics and own clothes," he says and eyes his hobgoblins sadly. Their clothes are all old orc make, and no amount of washing or mending will make them nice.Tauriel eyes him thoughtfully, wondering if the Lord of Dol Guldur even realises he himself is in terrible need of new clothes too. His are of Mannish make, but they're in ill repair as well, not to mention far too big for him.Bilbo Baggins shakes his head and then looks up at her. "You're back early," he says. "Did you get hungry?"Tauriel smiles a bit at that – what a hobbit thing to think, when every other species on earth would first assume trouble. "No, I ran into some trouble," she says. "There is a nest of spiders, two hours run north from the fortress. No more than half a dozen and I didn't see any egg sacks – they're only establishing their nest. But it is still closer than I'd like.""Spiders," the hobbit murmurs and frowns, while the hobgoblins look up."Those big spiders, the ones you named your sword for?" Bandobras asks interestedly, taking his pipe off his mouth."I don't know how big they'd be from your perspective," the Lord of Dol Guldur admits with wry sort of amusement. "For me they were absolutely gigantic. And terrifying.""I can easily clear the nest out while there is only so many of them." Tauriel assures him. "But I thought it best to ask you first.""Hmm," he answers and considers it. "Well, I wouldn't like them this close to home either, not while we have so many animals here, and all of them are so valuable. Yes, I think clearing out the nest might be the safest way to go about."Tauriel nods, a little relieved. At least this still makes sense in the world, then. Even here, spiders are pests and trouble."Can I go with her?" Bandobras asks, standing up from where he'd been kneeling next to the loom, brushing dirt off his trousers as he does. "I want to see what they are like, how big they really are.""That's up to Tauriel," Bilbo Baggins says and looks up at her. "Do you mind taking him with you?"Tauriel hesitates. The hobgoblins aren't the quietest of people, hobbit stealth being one of the few things they hadn't inherited from their lord. But then again, when hunting for spiders stealth wasn't that terribly important – they tended to be drawn to noise, rather than the opposite."Not at all," she says finally. "But you're going to need to get some weapons, Bandobras, just in case.""Right, right, of course," he says, both brightening up and turning more serious, all at once. He quickly empties his pipe out to a near by fire basing and then puts it away. "I'll be right back then."The Lord of Dol Guldur looks after him and then up at Tauriel. "He's terribly excitable. Look after him for me, will you?""Of course," Tauriel promises with a nod, though she never would have done otherwise. Bandobras is as good as her student, having been learning combat and history of warfare from her, and she is rather fond of him.Shaking her head, she looks at the loom. "I think Adalgrim is right," she then says. "The pedal isn't connected properly."Bilbo Baggins sighs. "Yes, I suppose it isn't," he says and pulls his sleeves up. "Alright, boys, let's take it apart and try again." Bandobras makes for amiable, if not particularly quiet, company in the forest. It is the furthest she thinks any of the hobgoblins has gone away from the fortress, so she tries to have some patience about how easily he gets distracted by everything he sees."Is it always so dark and clammy in here?" he asks with some distaste, making a face as he steps on a puddle of mud. He's still barefoot, as the hobgoblins and their lord always are."More or less," Tauriel agrees. "Dol Guldur is the sunniest place around because there is no canopy over it. Here, it covers everything.""Don't know how I like it," Bandobras admits. "It's pretty gloomy here.""Yes, I suppose it is," Tauriel agrees, thinking of the decades and centuries she'd lived in this shade, and considered it not only normal but perfectly natural.They make it to the spider nest later in that afternoon, where they sneak, as quiet as Bandobras can manage, closer to the webs. As they do, Tauriel explains to him how spiders hunt, and how they trap – that touching the webs alerts them, because they can feel the way the webs shake."Now, we need to keep an eye about," Tauriel says. "They will try and attack from above or behind us if they can manage it, so keep your guard up.""Yes, ma'am. But what is that?" Bandobras asks quietly, motioning at the wrapped up carcass. "It stinks.""A dead warg," Tauriel explains. "They hang up their prey like that, stick them full of poisons to soften the meat – that one is dead, though most of their prey they keep alive for as long as they can."Bandobras makes a face, his nose scrunching up with distaste. "Ugh," he says, succinctly.Then they're spotted by the spiders themselves.The fight itself is in no way remarkable to Tauriel – once you've fought one nest of spiders, the rest rather fall into similar patterns. They try to trap, and if that fails they try to sneak attack. And if sneak attack doesn't work, they will either run away, or attack head on in defence of their nest.Here, it goes from attempted sneak attack, descending on them from above – which Tauriel is carefully watching for – to a full frontal assault in quick procession. Tauriel answers accordingly, sinking an arrow into the nearest spider before pulling her sword and sinking it into the second, a knife into the third, carefully avoiding the fangs as she does.Bandobras surprises her, though.He pulls out his rough, orc machete and then strips one of the spiders half of it's legs in one powerful swing before knocking another spider aside with the same sword – killing neither beast. The last one he grabs straight from the air as it goes to launch at Tauriel.Then they're left staring at the spider Bandobras is just… holding by the back, one strong hand wrapped securely around it's carapace. The spider flails it's legs and skitters and snarls furiously but it can't do anything, can't reach behind to try and release Bandobras' grip, can't even try and attack him."Huh," Bandobras says, peering at the spider interestedly. "It's lighter than I thought.""I… wouldn't know," Tauriel admits slowly, even as she takes out throwing knife and swinging it at the spider Bandobras had knocked aside, sinking the blade handle deep in the spider's head.Bandobras turns the spider in his hand, examining the legs which are now curling in to protect the spider's belly, and the gnashing jaws, gleaming with venom."Release us, release us, vile creature, release uss!" the spider snarls at them, it's hind quarters twitching from side to side. It does nothing to loosed Bandobras' grip. "Release uss!" the spider snarls louder, and bit of web bursts out, as if from sheer frustration.Bandobras stares at the web curiously and then at the spider as it jerks helplessly in his grip. "Huh," the hobgoblin says again in tones of realisation and then looks up at the webs."Is… there something wrong?" Tauriel asks curiously, feeling a little worried now. Bandobras has a calculating look on his broad face, and last time he had had that look, he'd tackled her on the practice field hard enough to bruise. He'd apologised profusely after, of course, but Tauriel now knows the look that spells trouble."I'm thinking," Bandobras hums thoughtfully and narrows his eyes, looking at the spider in his hand and then at the webs. "And I think I have an idea." Well, Tauriel thinks faintly. It's high time something shocked the Lord of Dol Guldur in turn.Bilbo Baggins stares at the spoils of the battle Bandobras and Tauriel had brought with them, his eyebrows climbing higher and higher on his forehead. The spoils include one whole live spider, furiously snarling where it lays on it's side with it's legs bound up in spider web… and four branches with spider webs bundled up around them in thick wads."I…" the Lord of Dol Guldur says, looking at the spider, then at the bundled of spider web, then at the spider again. Then he looks up at Bandobras. "I am honestly not sure what's going on here. Bandobras?""Well," Bandobras says, folding his meaty arms. "We were talking about looms and spindles and yarn and string and such before, about how we need sheep for wool. But we wont get sheep anytime soon, because we haven't got any money and nowhere near by has any to sell anyway because the war drained every one dry. So I was thinking…"He takes one of the branches covered in spider webs and tugs at the webs. "This is kind of like string, isn't it? You said that spindle at least would be easy to make, so, we could make yarn out of this, for the loom?"Tauriel stares at him in something like horror and Bilbo Baggins does the same. Then the hobbit's face crunched up in thought and he says, "Huh," in the exact same tones Bandobras had used before, and examines the webs.Tauriel looks between them in hopeless disbelief and then sighs and rubs a hand over her face, digging her middle finger into the dib between her eyebrows, where she can already feel the ache.Valar help her, they'd found use for spiders."So, do you think we can make wool out of it?" Bandobras asks eagerly while the other hobgoblins lean in curiously, prodding at the web bundles and peering at the furious, bound up spider – now fated for domestication, the poor beast."No, no, not wool, Bandobras," the Lord of Dol Guldur says finally, and pulls a thin strand loose, so thin it's only visible because the light makes it gleam. "This, my boy, will make silk." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Stretching, Tauriel stands up from her bed, the night's meditation done. Her mind peaceful and calm, she runs her hands through her hair and then sits down to brush it with the comb Gerontius had made for her from wood, carding the wide teeth through her long hair until all the tangles were smoothed out – not that there were many to begin with.After braiding her hair, she considers her clothes for a moment before sighing. She, like everyone else in Dol Guldur, has only the one set so far – and though hers is the best kept in the entire fortress, it is starting to get a little rank. She would have to wash it in the upcoming days. For now, though, she smoothes out the wrinkles and scratches at a patch of dirt before pulling her trousers, tunic and finally her over coat back on. Her armour she leaves in her room for now.Tauriel is, as she usually is, the first one up and about. Even the Lord of Dol Guldur, who rises earlier than the hobgoblins, is still fast asleep as Tauriel pops into the kitchen to add some wood into the oven, to make sure there'd be enough to heat some water and make some food later on. She considers for a moment setting the kettle on… but decides against it.Instead, she sets out to walk the near perimeter of the fortress, as she does, every morning.It's quiet, with none of the others up yet. The only sounds are the wind, the distant rush of waves in the cliffs beneath the hill, and distant birds. Tauriel raises a set of steps that don't strictly speaking lead anywhere, and lifts her face to the sun that has only barely begun peaking past the forest canopy.The birds are new – before, the forest was deadly silent around them. Now, there is grain and vegetables and berry bushes and other things growing in the fortress and around it, and much to their Lord's dismay and Tauriel's delight, it was inviting wildlife.There had been birds singing in the Woodland Realm, of course, but very few in the rest of the Greenwood, or if there were, they were silent. Here, they dare to sing – here, they are safe.Tauriel breathes in the air, so much cleaner than it was in the forest, and for a moment just enjoys the quiet, the distant bird song, the promising stillness of the morning and all the promise it holds.Then she sets out to check the pens.Because the animals are so desperately valuable, they are all kept inside the fortress. The cows have a pen in what used to be a market place in ancient times, and the goats have a corner where they tend to climb the rubble and occasionally escape right over it. The chickens have a hut, build from stone and loose brick, which their Lord checks every morning for eggs.The rooster is already wide awake and considering the light over the tree tops, as if wondering if it was morning enough yet to begin crowing. Tauriel greets him with a fistful of grain and he flaps his wings in mocking challenge before they part ways, Tauriel to head to check the causeways, and he to find a perch to wake the rest of the fortress from.As quietly she may with the hinges creaking, she opens the gates. Everything is as it should be in the causeways – they're as solid and as sturdy as ever, and without any signs of invasion. Tauriel walks all of them up and down to check for tracks, before going further, to check the fields.The hobgoblins and their lord have already set up some scare crows, made of hay and sack cloth, set up on wooden poles. It's not quite enough to keep the crows away, and Tauriel wonders if she should tell them about the ways elven farmers scare off wild life, with water fountains set with rocking wood poles that clap against a rock every now and then. She doesn't know how effective they were, but most elven gardens had them.She'd tell them about the fountains later. For now, it seems like the scarecrows are doing the trick well enough.The potatoes are already sprouting, it looks like. Tauriel had a small hand in planting them – though it had been all on their lord's direction, of course. Still, she allows herself a quiet sense of pride, at the sight of the little green sprouts. Soon, they'd be eating food they had grown themselves.That would be something.In the fortress, the rooster is crowing now. The others would be getting up soon.Quietly Tauriel turns to head back into the ruin city – to put the kettle on. The hobgoblins have now more or less settled into tasks they particularly enjoy.Mungo and Ferdinbrand enjoy the gardening and farming the most, so that is what they mostly do, often heading out together to weed the fields or make new ones, digging out more and more gardens and vegetable patches inside the city, planting more and more seeds as they go. In their wake, the greenery spills into the ruins with ever growing pace, and they're all better for it.Reginard and Bungo on other hand prefer the building and repairing, working out the kinks of turning half crumbled buildings into viable housing. They're well on the way of mastering the basic of Dol Guldur's architecture, mixing elven and orcish design without care with distinctively hobgoblin ideologies, and coming up with rather serviceable, practical whole. Already, the fortress is starting to look like something different, something new, under their efforts.Gerontius on other hand is growing particularly good with a knife and bit of wood, so he is mostly found carving little bit of this and that. Tauriel's comb is so far his best work, but with each new piece he is getting more and more elaborate – recently he made a wooden tea cup for his lord, with intricate little designs on the side.Adalgrim, like Gerontius, likes wood work, but he likes the mechanisms of it more than the act of merely carving. Taking inspiration from the loom – which they got working mostly thanks to him – he's already well on his way designating a spinners weasel, taking guidance from his lord's half remembered descriptions of his mother's old wheel.Bandobras, after his innovation with spider webs, had taken to weaving with great interest. So far his attempts at it have been mostly experimental as he tries to make viable yarn from the webs, but he is growing ever clever with his big fingers, and with Adalgrim's increasingly functional spindles he is getting better. Soon, Tauriel knows, he'd be making splendid pieces, especially if they manage to master the art of making yarn from spider silk.The spider they'd captured is still not exactly warmed up to the idea, snarling and hissing even when offered food, but Rorimac had taken up the task of trying to persuade the beast to their side. He's fond of animal husbandry, and as it is he takes care of their animals more often than not, milking the cows and feeding them and the goats and tending to the chickens. So far the spider – which he is calling Skitters – is being somewhat stubborn, but Lord of Dol Guldur seems to have faith in Rorimac, so Tauriel figures it's a loosing battle for the beast.Isengrim is on other hand becoming something of a cook, sticking to his lord's side even more tightly than the other hobgoblins when ever food is being made. Tauriel had no doubt that once they have more food to make, he'll be getting his hand in – but for now everything edible is so precious in the fortress that Lord of Dol Guldur guards the access to their pantry with something of a jealous eye.They are all more or less settling into their lives, into jobs, into skills and trades, and sometimes Tauriel wonders about how terribly clever the hobgoblins can be, how quick they are to learn. If all orc kind are like that, it sets something of a terrifying precedence – and yet, she doubts an orc would ever have much of a call to be clever. All they do is destroy and kill and fight – nor much call for building and planting in their dark society.Before, it had been something of a grim relief. Now, here, in the heart of greenery that Dol Guldur is so gently harbouring, it seems like terrible, sad waste. But perhaps that was by the dark lord's design – which really only makes the fortress and what it is building and growing all the more terrible.So, Tauriel becomes the guardswoman of Dol Guldur and she does it gladly. The fortress is precious to her now, and she knows, she'd give her life to defend it if it came down to it. Gandalf comes and goes from Dol Guldur, sometimes staying a day, sometimes a week or more, but not quite settling in. Not that anyone expects him to. Istari being Istari, he will wander as he will, but when ever he is there, he is his own form of comfort to have. Especially so since he is obviously as fond of the hobgoblins and their little lord as is Tauriel.When he comes, he brings them news and gifts. It's never something that might belittle their efforts at the hill, Tauriel notes quietly – he doesn't bring them cartloads of food, or boxes full of new clothing. What food he brings is for treat, not for survival, and if he brings clothing at all, it is only pieces of fabric as example of weaving.Tauriel can't even figure out how she likes it. Gandalf could supply the fortress with all the food it needed, she has no doubt, he could bring them all new clothes. But at the same time – would those things be as valuable, as the promise of food they grew themselves, clothing they sew themselves. As it is, they can manage at the fortress for now, and yet… It seems like kindness and unkindness at the same time.Lord of Dol Guldur never seems to mind it – or expect more. If anything, he seems somewhat uncomfortable accepting anything Gandalf brings, be it blacksmithing tools or new hoes, or bag of sugar or bowl of salt. It takes explanation of hobbit culture for Tauriel to figure out why.In hobbit society, host is the one who gives gifts – not the guest. And Bilbo Baggins is a hobbit torn with sense of propriety since he has so little to give to his lone, wandering guest.One day, when he'd have enough to spare again, Tauriel suspects the Lord of Dol Guldur will attempt to smother the Mithrandir in gifts. It would be amusing to witness, if nothing else. Lord of Dol Guldur bakes that day. They've had bread before, of course – and it never stops being a special sort of pleasure, to have freshly baked bread with a bit of butter. But that day, Bilbo Baggins bakes something else with the last of their flour.Tauriel observes it with similar curiosity with which the hobgoblins lean in, carefully watching their lord's every move as he mixes the flour and the some of their sugar with butter and bit of water, and mixes it all into frothy, creamy dough. He spreads it out onto one of their few pans, before taking some berries Tauriel had gathered from the forest yesterday and setting them over the dough, pouring sugar and butter mixed into liquid over it. He covers it with another thin layer of dough and then sets it in oven, in apparent satisfaction.The smell is utterly, mouth wateringly delicious as it bakes on slow, gentle heat.There is only enough of the pie for one small slice for everyone, but they all savour it with slow, careful bites, all of the knowing it to be a desperately rare treat they won't get to enjoy again in a while. Tauriel stretches her slice out for as long as she can, taking sips of tea in between small bites and wondering if any treat in the Woodland Realm ever tasted this good. Elves did not have much use for butter, after all.One day she'll learn not to compare her old home with her new one, she thinks, and hopes it will come soon. For now she sets the thought aside and enjoys her treat in good company, letting the happy chatter of even happier hobgoblins wash over her, warm and homely. Late that evening, Tauriel patrols Dol Guldur again. She checks the fire in the kitchen and then walks around the animal pens and walks the cause ways, listening to the distant sounds of the hobgoblins finishing their day's tasks. There is a distant sound of Adalgrim and Gerontius talking as they put their tools away. Bandobras is still at the loom, the sound of beating heddle echoing every now and then. As she passes the animal pens, she spots Rorimac sneaking off to give Skitters a last, tempting treat.So, the fortress quiets down for the night. Tauriel checks the perimeter thoroughly and then closes the gates and locks them again for the night, before heading back inward. She checks up on everyone, quietly counting heads, making sure everyone is where they ought to be.Ferdinbrand and Mungo are fast asleep, and so are Reginard and Bungo, their long limbs spilling over their beds edges as they sleep, spread eagle and graceless. Bandobras passes her by on his way to his room, and bids her a quiet good night. Gerontius and Adalgrim are washing up after days' work as she checks on them, they'll be soon to bed as well. Isengrim has a guilty look when she passes her by – and crumbs on his chin, which tells her all she needs to know. Rorimac looks dejected but stubborn – apparently latest bit of persuading Skitters had failed, but he's not about to give up.The Lord of Dol Guldur is nowhere to be found, however. He isn't in his room, or in the kitchen, the pantry is empty. Tauriel checks his usual haunts and then sighs and sets out again – for the highest tower in Dol Guldur, the place she knows he goes when he's feeling particularly melancholy.And there he is, sitting on a old stone window ledge high above the rest of the fortress, pipe in hand, face lit in it's dim glow. Sun has set now and the moon is rising, painting the fortress of Dol Guldur in dim, cold light. The sky is almost cloudless, bar from thin wisps of white, turned grey in the darkness.Even in the growing darkness, she can see it. Over Dol Guldur's walls, past the forest canopy, far, far to the north east, she can see it. It is only a faint shadow against the darkening sky, but it is there, the single solitary peak of the Lonely Mountain.The Lord of Dol Guldur says nothing, just stares at the distant mountain, his expression drawn thoughtful and regretful. Tauriel listens to the silence, takes in it's tone – and then quietly sits beside him, upwind of him where she won't be in his smoke.Neither of them break the silence.Dol Guldur is build on regret and grown from grief, she knows. What Bilbo Baggins had buried in it's soil, she doesn't know for sure, but she can guess. She'd seen him cry at the funeral of Heirs of Durin's Line, after all, the same wretched tears she'd bit back herself with nary a success. Even now, looking at the mountain isn't easy. Even now, it still hurts.They sit quietly for a long while, just watching the distant mountain and remembering all the things it could have been for them, all the things they'd lost there.Then the Lord of Dol Guldur sucks in smoke and blows it out in a deep, deep sigh, blotting out the sky and the distant mountain for a moment, before getting quietly up again. He hops down from the window ledge and then holds out his hand, look of gentle understanding and uncomplicated kindness on his homely face.Tauriel takes his hand and lets him lead her home.
10760169	Spying	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": "Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by tqpannie", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2007-04-29T00:00:00", "words": "323", "Additional Tags": "Drabble", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "The Quidditch Pitch", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Author's notes: Prompt: Is She Really Going Out With Him? by Davinci's Notebook. "Ron," Harry said softly. "Why are the lights off and why do you have binoculars.""Is she really going out with him, Harry?" Ron growled. "I've been watching her flat all night and --""Tell me you aren't spying on Hermione.""Well I'm just looking out for her--something's going on and I don't like it."Ron reached down and grabbed a handful of popcorn. He kept the binoculars to his eyes and grunted when Harry smacked the back of his head."You like Terry.""No, I fancy Hermione--they're home.""So what?" Harry groaned. "You haven't asked, Hermione out ever and why shouldn't she?""I've got to do something about this! He's leaning!""Leaning? Ron you're babbling."Ron set his binoculars down and knocked his chair over in his haste to leave the flat. Harry chuckled and picked up the binoculars. He watched as Ron stompped across the street and pulled Terry away from Hermione.Hermione gestured angrily at Ron and Ron shook his head furiously. Harry wished he could hear what they were saying but all he could make out was muffled roar. He fell out of his chair laughing when Ron threw Hermione over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Tears poured down his face and he struggled to catch his breath as Ron stormed through the door with a silenced Hermione over his shoulder. She was beating on his back and Harry arched his eyebrow at Ron."Don't bother us," Ron growled and moved down the hallway towards his bedroom. "She wanted action and she's going to listen this time when I tell her I love her."Hermione's hands froze midair and her mouth hung open. Harry began laughing again and when he heard Ron's door slam he did a silencing charm over the living room.Someday--he'd have to tell Ron that Terry is gay.
10799565	Priroda i vospitaniie	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Sherlock Holmes, John Watson", "Fandom": "Sherlock (TV)", "Language": "Русский", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by PulpFiction", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-02T00:00:00", "words": "3,768", "Additional Tags": "Parentlock, Oliver Watson-Holmes, Перевод на русский \| Translation in Russian, Don't copy to another site", "Relationship": "Sherlock Holmes/John Watson", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Природа и воспитание", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Шерлок был спокойным, как и ожидал Джон, исключительно спокойным. Но даже после всех прошедших лет Джон ненавидел Шерлоково спокойствие. Джон знал, что его плечо может заболеть в дождь, сырость или подобное ненастье, но оно действительно болело, когда Шерлок затихал. Тогда Джон двигался напряженно, словно одеревенев, по квартире, пытаясь придумать способы расшевелить Шерлока. Джон привык, что в их квартире никогда не было спокойствия. Вот уже столько лет с ними жил Оливер. Ни Оливер, ни Шерлок не прекращали говорить, иногда Джон не имел возможности и слова вставить. Оливер и Шерлок разговаривали непрерывно во время экспериментов на кухне или кричали друг на друга в великолепных вулканических порывах страсти, когда были не согласны друг с другом. Тогда Джон сидел в своем кресле, попивал чай и выслушивал ту или иную сторону, жалующуюся на противника, а уже через двадцать минут они были не разлей вода, абсолютно непостижимые постороннему человеку. Джон любил Оливера всем сердцем, всеми фибрами души. Он и не предполагал, что способен на такие чувства, пока судьба не подарила ему этого ребенка. Шерлок любил Оливера иначе, с полной безусловностью, отдавая себя целиком, как и во всем, что он делал. Это значило, что, теперь, когда Оливера не было дома, Шерлок даже не мог взять себя в руки, чтобы всласть отдаться хандре. Он безучастно сидел со скрипкой у окна, и Джон, который вполне ожидал подобной ситуации, рылся в буфете, пытаясь найти там спрятанный подарок. — Шерлок, — произнес он, разыскав нужное и заходя в гостиную. Которая выглядела тревожно пустой, потому что Оливер забрал многие вещи в школу, что по мнению Джона, было лишним. Шерлок не сказал ничего, потому что он был не согласен с самим предприятием под названием «Оливер в школе», и отказывался признавать, что оно случилось. Джон даже боялся, что Шерлок не поедет с ними в Итон, но тот все-таки поехал. Потом он боялся, что Шерлок будет глумиться над всем Итоном, и Оливер только закатит глаза и будет его игнорировать, потому что Оливер был гораздо более успешен в игнорировании Шерлока, делающего глупости, чем сам Джон. Но Шерлок не сказал ничего, только все время смотрел на Оливера, не отрываясь, словно хотел наполнить его образом все грядущие дни без Оливера, и вот это было хуже всего. По мнению Джона, даже Оливер об этом подумал. Он неуклюже что-то сказал об эксперименте, который остался в холодильнике и об инструкциях Шерлока по данному вопросу, вместо того, чтобы нетерпеливо отрезать: «Конечно, я все это давно знаю, почему ты такой многословный и тупой»? Шерлок уставился на него в молчаливом удивлении и только кивнул. И Джон обнял мальчика своей медвежьей хваткой и запечатлел поцелуй на темных завитках, на что Оливер обычно соглашался только ради Джона, потому что склонность Шерлоков Холмсов потворствовать Джону во всем была явно заложена в генах. Шерлок не сказал ни слова, ни единого слова, весь путь домой от Итона. — Я не хочу чая, — произнес Шерлок, и это были не самыми плохими словами, разорвавшими тишину. — Хорошо, потому что я вовсе не чай несу. Шерлок был так удивлен, что даже оторвался от созерцания окна и посмотрел на Джона. — Но ты копался в буфете. — Потому что я искал вот это! — он протянул сложенный лист бумаги. — Ты приобрел привычку напихивать бумагами буфет? — Только тогда, когда я хочу их спрятать, потому что не приведи господь вам сделать чай. Шерлок развернул бумагу. — Это подтверждение билетов на самолет. — Да. — В Словению. — Так точно. Шерлок поднял брови. — Ты полагаешь, что мы сегодня вечером полетим в Словению? — Я знаю, что сегодня вечером мы полетим в Словению. Шерлок прищурился. — Ты доволен собой. — Потому что я приготовил тебе подарок. — Подарок? В Словении? — Тебе он понравится. — Я не хочу в Словению. — Именно поэтому мы едем. Вот, — и Джон протянул другой лист бумаги. Шерлок, фыркнув, прочел записку: «Папочка, поезжай в Словению. Люблю. О.» — Ты подговорил Оливера? — Я сказал, если быть точным, что мы давно не отдыхали. И рассказал ему про сюрприз, а он согласился, что тебе понравится. Поскольку он — это ты, ошибки быть не может. Итак. Мы едем. — Джон, — Шерлок посмотрел на лист бумаги и глубоко вдохнул. Джон был экспертом в распознавании слов, которые Шерлок Холмс хотел выразить глубоким вздохом. — Я знаю, — сказал он, наклонился и поцеловал мужа в макушку и задержался на ней губами. В волосах детектива уже проступала седина, но они были такими же густыми, как у Оливера. — Послушай меня. Я обещал ему, что позволю тебе позвонить только из аэропорта. Так что поднимайся, поехали. Я собрал наши вещи. После небольшого молчания Шерлок уступил: — Ты собрал наши вещи? — Я собирал их несколько дней. А ты ничего и не заметил, так ведь? *Оливер сказал Джону, что хочет учиться в Итоне, до того, как заикнулся об этом Шерлоку. Детектив был в Скотланд-Ярде, возясь с бумагами и каждые двадцать секунд строча сообщения Джону и Оливеру о том, как ему скучно. Оливер сидел посреди комнаты, обложившись всеми старыми медицинскими книгами Джона, раскрытыми одновременно, и работал над бесконечным проектом обновления содержащейся в них информации, а затем вдруг резко сообщил в милой его сердцу манере выдавать информацию, присущей для обоих Холмсов: — Я хочу учиться в Итоне, — заявил он. И Джон, готовивший обед, который он намеревался впихнуть в Шерлока и Оливера, с минуту смотрел на морковь, которую нарезал, а затем прошел с этой морковью в гостиную, сел в кресло Шерлока, потому что ему оттуда было лучше видно Оливера. Тот делал заметки в книге и вовсе не смотрел на отца. Джон не спрашивал о причинах такого решения. Причина была очевидной. Оливер был жутко любопытен, а все его одноклассники болтали о том, как они скоро пойдут в школу. Джон в последнее время просматривал банковские счета с растущим чувством страха, беспокоясь о стоимости обучения, которое Оливер сочтет для себя подходящим и которого он, вне сомнения, заслуживает. Они раньше никогда особо не думали о деньгах, поскольку за многие годы они скопили достойную сумму и пользовались ею, не экономя. А теперь Джон счел, что экономия не помешала бы, и терзал себя за то, что не подумал об этом раньше. Шерлок заметил озабоченность Джона финансами и задал прямой вопрос. Джон, не желая затевать разговор раньше времени, пробормотал что-то о пенсии, отчего Шерлок согнулся пополам от смеха. В итоге дело закончилось постелью, поскольку Шерлок пожелал показать Джону, что они далеки до того возраста, когда надо думать о пенсии. А когда дело до этого дойдет, Шерлок будет зарабатывать на хлеб продажей меда. Джон посмотрел на Оливера, на его черноволосую голову, склонившуюся над книгами, и задался вопросом, когда же тот успел вырасти, и как быстро пролетело время, и как быстро оно пронесется. Он подумал о разговоре с Шерлоком, который ему придется выдержать. — Ладно, — услышал он свой голос, который сейчас показался ему чужим. Если Оливер и заметил — а он всегда все замечал — то ничего не сказал. Потом посмотрел на Джона, все еще сидящего в кресле, с морковью, нелепо зажатой в кулаке, и добавил: — Что бы ты сейчас ни готовил, оно, наверняка, горит.— Я ненавижу все, что связано со Словенией, — заявил Шерлок невозмутимо, когда они направлялись в агентство по найму автомобилей. — Нет, это не так, — спокойно возразил Джон. — Вот наша машина. Я даже позволю тебе сесть за руль. — Он бросил Шерлоку ключи. Детектив вовсе не собирался успокаиваться. Джон сел в машину. Шерлок последовал его примеру и включил зажигание. — Куда едем? — У нас забронирован отель в Дворске. — И что там в Дворске? — Твоего подарка там нет. Шерлок, ворча, направил машину в транспортный поток. — Почему Оливер вообще решил, что мне здесь понравится? — В этом месте нет ничего плохого. Оно прекрасно! — Да. И все мы знаем, что я брежу девственными озерами и лесами, от которых захватывает дух. Джон хихикнул. — Тебе понравится мой сюрприз. Обещаю! — Это место преступления? — Нет. — Знаменитое место преступления? — уточнил Шерлок, если Джон вдруг понял его неправильно. — Нет, оно вообще не имеет ничего общего с преступлениями. — Убийство… какое-то особенное? — Я что тебе сказал? Шерлок нахмурился. — Но я не люблю ничего, кроме преступлений. — Ты любишь меня. — Я мог бы остаться с тобой в Лондоне. Сильно сомневаюсь, что Олли в Словении, потому что мы только что проводили его в Итон, а я люблю и его, но это все. — Ты любишь миссис Хадсон. — Так она здесь, что ли? — спросил Шерлок с воодушевлением, и Джон расхохотался. — Ты должен мне доверять. — Я и доверяю тебе. Я всегда тебе доверяю. Тебе, черт возьми, должно быть очевидно, сколь глубоко я тебе доверяю. Наступило молчание. Джон понял, что Шерлок подумал об Итоне, о том, что именно Джон поставил вопрос об Итоне, о том, что Шерлок именно его считает виноватым во всей этой ситуации, и он пытался найти слова, но Шерлок сказал: — В конце концов, я сел на самолет и слепо последовал за тобой в Словению. Ты можешь убить меня в этой глуши, и никто ничего не узнает, — детектив просиял. — Так ты привез меня сюда, чтобы убить? Джон укоризненно посмотрел на мужа: — Это сделало бы тебя счастливым? — Ну, ведь с тебя потребуется проявить смекалку, Джон. Если меня собираются убить, я бы хотел быть убитым умно. — Это омерзительная тема для разговора, и я не собираюсь ее продолжать. Наше путешествие в Словению не имеет ничего общего с преступлениями. — Не вижу причины, по которой мне оно понравится, — фыркнул Шерлок. — Насколько хорошо я тебя узнал? Шерлок промолчал, и Джон расценил это как допущение. — Если я говорю, что тебе что-то понравится, я знаю, что будет так. Я не заставил бы тебя делать вещи, которые тебе не по душе. — Да неужели? — спросил Шерлок так тихо, что его слова затерялись в шуме мотора.Шерлок вернулся из Скотланд-Ярда в ужасном настроении, и Джон отложил разговор об Итоне. А на следующий день Шерлок был в превосходном настроении, поэтому Джон опять решил не говорить об Итоне. Он откладывал этот разговор так долго, что однажды посередине ночи Шерлок проснулся и задал прямой вопрос: — Что случилось? Так Шерлок делал, когда хотел что-то серьезно обсудить. И сонный Джон, совершенно беззащитный, потому что так и не научился противостоять этой маленькой хитрости Шерлока, зевнул: — Олли хочет поехать в Итон. Шерлок был искренне потрясен этим заявлением. — Что? — Он хочет поехать в Итон, — повторил Джон, окончательно просыпаясь. — Он сам мне сказал. Я просто не знал, как тебе об этом рассказать. Шерлок встал с кровати и воззрился на Джона. — Так об этом ты беспокоился всю неделю? — Да. — Господи боже мой, я-то думал, что это ерунда, как обычно. Муха, из который ты, как всегда, сделал слона. — Шерлок начал кругами ходить по спальне, воздевая руки к небу. — Будто ты с кем-то или с чем-то перетрахнулся. Джон приподнялся на локтях. — Ясно, Шерлок. Выходит, если я так сделаю, это не будет иметь никакого значения. — Но я мог бы это понять, потому что я очень беспокойный сосед и супруг, и я бы тебя не винил. Но Итон! — Мы еще поговорим о том, что моя измена будет оправдана, как только уладим вопрос с Итоном, — изрек Джон. — Он не поедет в Итон, — решил Шерлок. — Окончательно и бесповоротно. Хорошо. С этим покончено. Мы можем двинуться дальше и обсудить вариант про «переспать с кем-то другим». — Нет. Он хочет туда поехать. Я думаю, что ему это будет полезно. Джон знал, что эти слова причинили Шерлоку самую сильную боль, на которую вообще были способны слова. Если бы Джон сказал, как и думал Шерлок, «я тебе изменил», его супруг не выглядел бы таким полностью преданным, как в этот момент. — Ты… — начал Шерлок, но ему не хватило воздуха, чтобы закончить фразу. — Шерлок… — Джон потянулся к нему. Тот вывернулся из-под руки. — Ты думаешь, что ему следует уехать? Ты думаешь, что ему нужно покинуть нас и отправиться в то неприятное, кошмарное место, где люди так порочны и ужасны? Именно так, по твоему мнению, мы должны поступить с сыном? — Шерлок, все необязательно будет так, как ты… — Он не поедет. Не могу поверить, что ты поселил эту мысль в его голове. Мы же это обсуждали. О том, что не будем отправлять его в школу. — Я ничего такого не делал, — оскорбился Джон. — Неужели ты думаешь, что кто-то способен поселить мысли у него в голове? Господи, ты вообще о чем? — Он не едет, — сказал Шерлок ровно. — Все. И хватит об этом. — Прекрасно! — отрезал Джон и выключил свет. — Вот ты ему об этом и скажешь.Джон надеялся, что утром Словения произведет на Шерлока более приятное впечатление, но Шерлок был совершенно апатичным. Джон не был уверен, что тот вообще спал. Он вдруг испугался, что решение увезти Шерлока с Бейкер-стрит было ужасной ошибкой. Шерлоку надо было чем-то заняться, а Джон увез его ото всего, что могло бы занять детектива. От экспериментов, от преступлений, ото всего. — Эй! — окликнул он мужа в качестве приветствия, и Шерлок, стоящий у окна, смог выдавить в ответ улыбку. Затем он направился к кровати и завалился прямо на Джона, полностью завладев его вниманием. Джон не склонен был рассматривать это как секс ради удовольствия, скорее, ради отвлечения, но это было прекрасно. Шерлок, навалившийся сверху, был живым и поглощенным действием, и все это заняло определенное количество времени. А потом, ясное дело, Шерлок отрубился. Джон оставил мужа храпеть в постели, а сам отправился в душ. Оставил короткую записку: «Ушел за завтраком», —затем пошел в столовую отеля и взял полную тарелку хлеба и сыра. Принес все это в комнату. Шерлок уже плескался в душе, поэтому Джон уселся за столик и принялся за еду. Шерлок вышел из ванной и рухнул на кровать, без интереса обозревая тарелку, которую перед ним поставил Джон. — Кофе нет? — спросил он. — Я не мог его принести. Мы выпьем по чашечке, когда будем уходить. Шерлок кивнул, он был любезен и покладист, и Джон почти решил, что опять прибегнет к сексу как к способу вытащить Шерлока из подавленного настроения. Зажужжал мобильник Шерлока, оставленный им у кровати. Джон только хотел сказать, что раз они не полетят тотчас в Лондон, нет смысла интересоваться преступлениями, но Шерлок прочел текст с улыбкой, потом бросил телефон Джону. «Пожалуйста, не злись по поводу Словении. Папа был этим очень взволнован. Тост на завтраке оказался не подгоревшим. Я и не знал, что такое возможно. ОВХ» — Вот негодник, — добродушно сказал Джон, возвращая телефон Шерлоку. — Он — это я, — ответил тот, улыбнувшись, и Джон вздохнул с облегчением.Сара попросила его помочь в клинике, и Джон вернулся домой после тяжелого дня. Шерлок сидел молча в опустошенной гостиной. — Где Олли? — спросил Джон. — Молли позвонила насчет любопытного трупа. Ангиоиммунобластная Т-клеточная лимфома. Он помешан на лимфомах после того, как прочел главу в твоей книжке. — Ага, — Джон стянул куртку и направился на кухню за чаем. После некоторой паузы заглянул в гостиную. Шерлок сидел в такой же позе, как и утром. Неподвижный и безмолвный. — С тобой все в порядке? — Он хочет в Итон, — Шерлок смотрел на Джона непонимающим взглядом. — Я спрашивал, и он уверен в своем решении. Это единственная вещь, которую он хочет. Причем отчаянно. Он все прочел. Он сделал это гребаное расследование. Он выучил это чертово расписание. Джон вошел в комнату и сел в свое кресло. Грустно улыбнулся. — Ведь он — это ты. — Ты знал, что к этому придет. Поэтому и интересовался деньгами. Ты знал, что он захочет уехать. — Я знал, что он захочет сменить обстановку. Дневная школа — не самый удачный выбор, и я подозревал, что он захочет уехать. Но если так, я бы не хотел, чтобы он уезжал от нас, я не думал, что он на это решится, я не думал, что это сделает его счастливым. Но ты учился в Итоне, а он всегда хотел быть похожим на тебя. Ирония сложившейся ситуации состояла в том, что Оливер был копией Шерлока, а тот вкладывал кучу усилий и времени в то, чтобы Оливер вырос не таким, как он. — Я ненавижу Итон. — Но он об этом не знает. Даже если ты ему сказал бы об этом, он бы не поверил. Он не поверил бы, что ты не стал королем Итона, что ты не подчинил там каждого школьника, и не одержал своего рода викторию. — Викторию над чем? Это вообще не имеет никакого смысла. Он ведь знает меня. Он умен. Что заставило его думать, что я был королем Итона? — Потому что ты его отец, и самый лучший человек, который когда-либо ходил по этой земле. Так он считает. Ты действительно думаешь, что Оливер смотрит на тебя беспристрастно и логически? — Я предпочел бы держать его подальше от тех вещей, которые ненавидел. — Но он — не ты. Много маленьких нюансов составят в сумме большие величины. Ты сам-то хотел учиться в Итоне? — Нет? Да? Я даже не помню, — Шерлок казался смущенным и изумленным. Джон знал, что он ненавидит, когда дела идут не так, как надо, особенно если они касаются Оливера. — Если ему не понравится, мы заберем его домой. На следующий же день, как он изъявит желание. Мы никогда не позволим ему остаться и терпеть то, чего он не хочет. Шерлок был возмущен до глубины души. — Разумеется, не позволим. — Впрочем, все это не имеет значения, — сказал Джон. — Если ты не планируешь последующие десять лет работать сутки напролет, я не вижу способов, как мы это реализуем. Даже если мы продадим все, что у нас есть, и я уйду на полную ставку в клинику, у нас не хватит денег. Шерлок ответил, уставившись взглядом в камин. — Майкрофт. Я уже попросил его, и он уже согласился.*После сообщения от Оливера Шерлок пришел в более-менее хорошее настроение, и совсем воспрял духом по дороге к «сюрпризу». Джон сел за руль, а Шерлок занял место пассажира и всю дорогу пытался угадать. Все его догадки так или иначе сводились к преступлениям, а Джон все время упорно повторял: «Это не имеет ничего общего с преступлениями.» Это имело дело с пчелами. Шерлок застыл с широко открытыми глазами перед музеем пчеловодства, а Джон наслаждался выражением восхищения на его лице. Затем детектив ворвался в музей со скоростью, более подобающей Оливеру. Шерлок прошел мимо расписных панелей для ульев, застряв на выставке, посвященной истории пчеловодства, а потом на долгое время погрузился в наблюдение над «обсервационным» ульем, где можно было увидеть, как трудятся пчелы, когда подошел любезный служитель и сказал, что музей закрывается. Шерлок сразу же расстроился, но последовал за Джоном к автомобилю с сияющими глазами. — Сколько мы еще здесь пробудем? — спросил он. — Мы можем сюда вернуться завтра, — Джон улыбнулся, он предвидел такую реакцию. — Как же ты узнал об этом месте? Джон оглянулся, отпирая машину. Шерлок смотрел на него в мечтательном изумлении, словно солнце встало и остановило на нем свои лучи. Джон очень любил этот взгляд. — Я прочел о нем давным-давно, и подумал, что это пригодится, когда станет нужно поднять настроение. Джон сел в машину, и Шерлок сел рядом. Его настроение из радостного стало задумчивым. Он вернулся в отель тихим, и Джон пнул себя за то, что напомнил об Оливере, пусть даже косвенно. Оливер позвонил вечером, они включили громкую связь и положили аппарат на кровать между собой. Оливер нетерпеливо делился впечатлениями — презрением по отношению к умственным способностям обитателей школы и воодушевлением от научных лабораторий. Он говорил в своей обычной манере — со счастливой и беззаботной уверенностью, а Шерлок слушал его, улыбаясь и вставляя время от времени вопросы. Ему явно было лучше. Когда бесконечный поток информации от Оливера иссяк, он спросил, понравился ли Шерлоку музей пчеловодства (Джон всегда именовал его музеем пчел, а Оливер использовал правильное название). — Это было очень интересно, — признал Шерлок. — Он тебя дурачит. Он провел шесть часов, наблюдая за пчелами, — встрял Джон. — А потом попросил меня приехать еще раз. — Папа не понимает всей гениальности пчел, — свысока проинформировал Шерлок Оливера. — Я знал, что тебе понравился, — Оливер явно был доволен собой. — Я говорил папе. Ты сделал заметки? — Нет, папа же мне не сказал, куда мы идем, у меня не на чем было писать. — Ты не взял, на чем писать? Ты же должен был предположить! — удивился Оливер. — Завтра я сделаю кучу записей, — пообещал Шерлок. — Отлично! Я собираюсь устроить здесь пасеку. Дядя Майкрофт сказал, что я должен научиться заявлять о себе, как раз с этого начну. — Боже, — простонал Шерлок. — Ты можешь вести себя хорошо? — Джон знал, что просить об этом бесполезно. — Я буду просить обо всем вежливо, — заявил Оливер. — Дядя Майкрофт так меня научил. — С этого времени ты не будешь общаться с дядей Майкрофтом, — заявил Шерлок серьезно. Оливер не обратил на это внимания. — Когда вы поедете домой? — Послезавтра, — ответил Джон. — Вы приедете ко мне на выходные? Мне сказали, что родители могут приехать, я хочу вам показать, где будет пасека. И научные лаборатории. И моя комната. Я так красиво все устроил в моей комнате, жду не дождусь, когда смогу вам продемонстрировать. Джон мог себе представить тот бардак, который развел Оливер в своей комнате. Шерлок быстро ответил, прежде чем Джон успел отреагировать. — Конечно, мы приедем на выходные. — Отлично! Я позвоню завтра вечером, может, раньше, если занятия окажутся опять такими же тупыми. — Не звони никому в то время, когда должен быть на уроках, — сказал Джон. — Звони, когда захочешь, — бросил Шерлок небрежно. Джон вздохнул и покачал головой, затем произнес в телефон: — Мы тебя любим и скучаем. — И возьмем с собой в Словению на каникулы, — добавил Шерлок. — Блестяще! — восхитился мальчик. — Я тоже люблю вас. Пока. На этом разговор закончился. Джон хотел спросить Шерлока, не лучше ли ему теперь, когда Оливер был в полном порядке, но затем подумал, что все еще стало хуже, когда оказалось, что у Оливера-то как раз всё прекрасно. Он убрал телефон на тумбочку и повернулся на бок к Шерлоку. Тот тоже повернулся на бок и посмотрел на Джона. — Ты знал, что так случится. Ты прочел об этом музее давным-давно и сохранил информацию, чтобы привезти меня сюда, когда Оливер отправится в школу. — Он так или иначе куда-нибудь бы уехал. Если бы это было не так, мы с тобой оказались бы плохими родителями. — Я вообще не рассматривал такой возможности, и был полностью огорошен. И посмотри на себя, ты такой… такой… все так спокойно принимаешь, словно мы его только что не оставили в дремучем лесу, чтобы он выбрался оттуда самостоятельно. Джон слегка улыбнулся. — Ну, с ним все-таки все не настолько скверно. — Как ты это делаешь? — спросил Шерлок, удивляясь. Джон окинул его взглядом и ответил честно. — Я меня огромный опыт. Потому что он — это ты. Он…. Просто вылитая копия тебя. Я знаю, что он должен стать тобой, я знаю, что так и происходит, но забываю, что ты не видишь себя со стороны, чтобы понять, как невероятно… Ты хочешь осушить весь мир одним глотком, и он хочет того же. У него никогда не будет хватать времени, чтобы увидеть все, что он хочет, и сделать все, к чему он стремится. Ты думаешь, что мир скучен и утомителен, но на самом деле ты его любишь. Вот почему ты так бесишься, когда он тебя разочаровывает. Я провел столько времени рядом с человеком, которого люблю всем сердцем, который бросался во все, очертя голову, который совершал безумные, безрассуднейшие поступки и улыбался, когда мне удавалось его догнать. И ты еще спрашиваешь, как я со всем этим справляюсь? У меня просто были годы практики с тобой. Наступила долгая тишина. Джон не рассчитывал, что Шерлок ему ответит. Он не знал, найдет ли Шерлок слова…. Поэтому просто сказал: — Мы вернемся в музей завтра утром… Шерлок прервал его на полуслове. —Спасибо. Джон замолк и посмотрел на него в изумлении. — За все. За меня и за него. От всей души. Спасибо. Эти слова из уст Шерлока были столь редки. И так много значили, что Джон не нашелся с ответом. И в итоге пробормотал лишь: — Я рад. Всегда рад помочь. Шерлок просиял, словно ждал этих слов, и добавил: — Тебе не кажется, что мы позволяем Майкрофту проводить слишком много времени с Оливером? И тут Джон расхохотался.
10705170	Enough 100 word drabble	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Isak Valtersen, Even Bech Næsheim", "Fandom": "SKAM (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by XioNin", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-23T00:00:00", "words": "100", "Additional Tags": "mention of Sana Bakkoush, s4, post-ep2, hint of Mikael and Yousef", "Relationship": "Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "The In-Between (Sesong 4)", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Isak holds on tight.Because something in Sana’s expression that day has shaken him loose from the firm grip of confidence he’d been feeling lately. With Even. Because of Even and everything they shared.Share.They still share everything, though everything now feels like it’s slipping away.Isak is holding on tightly. Too tightly.“Baby,” Even croaks.“Sorry.”“Everything okay?”“Yeah.”It’s not, it’s unraveling. Isak is unraveling. His thoughts are spiraling down dark, dark paths of jealousy.He wants to know, needs to. He wants to ask. Doesn’t.Isak just holds on and hopes – please – let it be enough.
10739427	Same Old Same Old	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Haikyuu!!", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by jackaleaupe (jeweniper)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-01T00:00:00", "words": "99", "Additional Tags": "HQ Brofest, Flash Tier, Sleep, Flash Fic", "Relationship": "Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "HQ Brofest Flash Fics", "Collections": "HQ!! Brofest: The Power of Friendship", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	“Don't forget to eat...” Kuroo trails off as the door creaks open. Kenma's chest rises and falls, two-toned hair shifting slightly against the burgundy carpet and the soft black fabric over his curled knee. He tip toes over, battle music murmuring from the system near his friend where he lays by the bed. Avoiding the power button, he taps the DS Lite closed, and pulls the duvet until there is enough fabric to drop it over Kenma entirely, blocking out the whisper of his resting breaths. He leaves the door parted. The smell of lunch can always wake him.
10767807	Goodnight Kisses	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri", "Fandom": "Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by MostlyOnline", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-30T00:00:00", "words": "985", "Additional Tags": "Making Out, Kissing, Fluff, Sleepy Kisses, Sleepy Cuddles", "Relationship": "Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Like with most things in his life, Yuuri didn’t know how he ended up in this situation. He could tell you what led up to it, sure, but even going through the steps didn’t help quell his confusion.It started as an innocent request to push the beds together for no other reason than “It’ll be fun!” and he found it hard to say no to that heart-shaped smile. From there it only escalated. Yuuri didn’t think that Victor would still insist on sleeping naked, though then again the man had never really been ashamed of his body (and why would he?) but they eventually negotiated to at least pants (“But Yuuri, you’ve seen me naked plenty of times.” “This is completely different!”). Though Yuuri kept his distance at first, Victor closed the gap between them until they were lying face to face.Despite having two beds pushed together, Victor occupied most of Yuuri’s side which would have been enough closeness for the poor shy boy but somewhere between crawling into bed and now Victor had pulled him in close; perhaps muscle memory mistaking Yuuri for Makkachin. So there he was, cuddled close to his coach’s bare chest and flustered out of his awkward mind.“...Victor?...” he whisperedAsleep.He watched him for a while, taking note of the tiny details that the pictures and cameras never caught. Even though he looked up to the man for years he was still surprised to learn new things about him. He studied his long feathery gray eyelashes, the way his hair fell freely out of place, and especially the way his mouth slightly parted. He watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically, being curled up this close he could breathe in his scent; winter, though there was something warm about it, and if he listened carefully he swore he could even hear the beats of his heart.Yuuri was suddenly all too aware of the kiss at the Cup of China. It was brief but at the same time, it lasted forever. They never brought it up again but Yuuri couldn’t ignore his curiosity. What it really as soft as he remembered? It wasn’t a thought that was always at the forefront of his mind but he would be lying if he didn’t think about it from time to time. Sometimes there were every opportune moments; faces that got too close, gazes that lingered a second too long, the million times during practice when they were messing around with their pair skate program. Sometimes Yuuri just wanted to lean in and kiss Victor silly. This was one of those times. But...could he do it now? The man was sleeping, after all. Would he mind? Would he get mad? Though ‘Victor’ and ‘mad’ doesn’t really go in the same sentence...Before he had time to debate the morals and ethics of stealing a kiss from your sleeping idol, Yuuri found himself softly pressing his lips against Victor's. It was soft. It was warm. He might have stayed there forever if he didn’t feel Victor’s lips move against him. His breath hitched and he attempted to retreat, but not before catching the gaze of familiar blue eyes.Crap.“I-I-I um...:” he thought he was having a stroke. What kind of excuse could he make in this situation? He was caught red handed. ‘Oh sorry, I was sleep...walking...kissing...sleep kissing...didn’t mean to wake you! I’m going to go do a flip off the building now, goodnight!’. Sleepy eyes blinked dully at him before illuminated with a spark of realization.“Oh, Yuuri, I forgot your goodnight kiss,” his voice was sleepy and sexy but with a hint of playfulness. Yuuri felt an arm push under his waist and hook his lower back while the other found the back of his head. It crossed his mind that he died in his sleep.Without hesitation, Victor pulled him closer and kissed back harder. It was nothing like the first kiss or any kiss that Yuuri ever had.It was rough.It was hot.It was sloppy with a hint of drowsiness. His head swam with thoughts that quickly vanished when Victor tugged at his hair and felt a hot tongue swipe his lips. Victor licked into Yuuri’s gaping mouth effortlessly. Yuuri moaned into it, relishing the feeling that caught him completely by surprise. It was around this time that he remembered that he was indeed alive and should participate; especially when the one kissing you is the love of your life and it would be rude not to. He shuddered when he felt his bottom lip caught between teeth, pulling him in and beckoning for more. He obliged. Yuuri mimicked Victor's actions and kissed back harder, the act rewarded with a whimper that he swallowed hungrily. Victor allowed him to take charge, happy to allow Yuuri to explore his mouth. At long last, all those lessons and practice in seduction had paid off. He loved Yuuri like this. Determined. Confident. Lost in the act. If breathing wasn’t an issue, Yuuri probably would’ve continued forever. But his breath, much like his soul, was leaving his body at an alarming rate. He broke the kiss first, taking in lungs full of air but never taking his eyes off Victor who moved back in after a few seconds. The kisses this time were softer, slower. Yuuri melted into them, allowed himself to indulge in the affection that he had craved for so long now. With a final lick of Yuuri's lips and a soft kiss, Victor pulled away for the last time and laughed lightly to himself "You taste good, Yuuri". Victor settled back into sleep with Yuuri still in his arms, leaving him blushing like mad and nowhere near tired. Even still, he closed his eyes and nuzzled closer, content with listening to soft breaths and heartbeats lull him to sleep.
10784157	A Walk in the Park	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Black Hayate, Maes Hughes", "Fandom": "Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by TheBadIdeaBears", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-01T00:00:00", "words": "3,900", "Additional Tags": "Fluff, Jogging, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Dorks in Love, Roy is a huge dork", "Relationship": "Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Roy had to admit that, for once, Hughes was actually right. He very rarely followed his advice, mostly because it was always terrible (like the time he had bet Roy that he couldn't get the cute blonde interns phone number and the cute blonde intern had turned out to be an angry firecracker named Edward) but on this occasion Hughes was actually right. He had been bending Roy's ear for weeks about changing his route to work and finally Roy had decided to take his advice. 'You should go through the park,' Hughes had kept telling him 'it really is beautiful first thing in the morning' and he wasn't wrong.The park on the outskirts of town really was beautiful especially first thing in the morning when the sun was just peeking over the tops of the trees, the light breeze picked up the scent of the flowers and there was no one else around aside from the occasional dog walker or person doing a sneaky walk of shame. It was a nice and relaxing way to get to his office in the centre of town; much more pleasant than sitting in traffic for a hour on a journey that should only take him twenty minutes at the most.It was one particular morning, after he had been taking this route for about two weeks since he had given in to Hughes' advice (who had been gloating ever since Roy had told him that he had started walking that way... that bastard), when he suddenly noticed something more than just the scenery. After about two weeks it suddenly came to his attention that every single morning, about about the same time each day, he saw the same toned, blonde woman out jogging with the same black and white dog running along beside her.The first time she had jogged passed him Roy hadn't really paid that much attention, he had been too busy looking up at the pinkish hue to the sky and wondering if it was going to rain, lamenting the fact that he hadn't brought an umbrella with him. The next time he had seen her he had been admiring the spring flowers beginning to push through when she had jogged into his line of vision, her stunning legs being the first thing he had seen before he looked up at the rest of her. Now that had gotten his attention.She was the most stunning woman Roy had ever seen; long blonde hair scraped back out of her face, headphones in and a University of Amerstris t-shirt on. She had smiled at Roy as she passed and he had tried to smile back but he had been so stunned by how beautiful she was that he didn't quite know what he had ended up doing with his face. Once she had passed he had looked over his shoulder to continue watching her. His eyes had nearly burst out of his head as he cast a glance up her shapely legs and saw the curve of her backside. You could bounce a coin off that! He had immediately turned back to the path in front of him, feeling like a creep.The next day he had seen her jogging with her dog again. After the embarrassment of catching himself staring at her backside the day before he had mostly paid attention to the dog this time. It was a sweet little thing; a black and white puppy that seemed utterly delighted to be out running in the early morning fresh air. He had cast a swift glance up at his owner and she smiled at him. Roy smiled back, this time trying not to look so much like a gaping goldfish, and gave her a small wave. Immediately he had regretted that (he must have looked like such an idiot) but she had jogged passed and either hadn't noticed his idiocy or thought it was endearing.He had allowed himself to have a look at her over his shoulder. She really did look absolutely stunning in that tracksuit. He smiled to himself as he continued on his way to work and he was unable to keep the smile off his face for the rest of the day. He was already enjoying his new found route to work but now he was enjoying it even more. Sometimes just thinking about that smile of hers was the only thing that got him through the day. He never mentioned it to anyone though, they would think he was insane. He didn't even know her name! All he knew about her was that she was gorgeous and she liked dogs.Every single weekday for a month he walked through the park to work and every single weekday he saw the stunning blonde woman (who Hughes had named 'Jogging Girl' after he had badgered Roy to find out why he was staring off into space and smiling to himself). Every day when he saw her she would smile at him and he would give her a small wave and smile back. He found himself thinking of her more and more and hoping that he would see her the next day and each day it put a smile on his face when he did.Of course Hughes had had to throw his opinion in. 'You should go there at the weekend' he had after bugging Roy to talk about her for the fifth day in a row 'see if she jogs then too'. Roy knew that Hughes was probably joking around with him but the more he thought about it the more it seemed like a good idea. He was quite taken by this woman and he wanted to see her again, maybe even talk to her if possible. If he didn't have to carry on and go to work then it would probably even be possible... unless of course she ran away from him because he had now crossed over to borderline stalking.When the next Saturday rolled around Roy decided that he would go to the park at the same time he usually did and see if Hughes had a point. He could also make a conscious effort to get fit while he was at it. It would look too strange for him to just be wandering through the park at that hour on a Saturday morning if he wasn't going for a jog as well. He pulled on his tracksuit (which was much tighter than the last time he had worn it... maybe he should consider making this a regular thing), grabbed his old MP3 player and left the house.He had been out for nearly an hour before taking a minute to catch his breath. He had seen no sign of 'Jogging Girl' and had come to the realisation that he was desperately out of shape. He heaved himself to his feet, planning to do one more lap before giving up the ghost and going back home to shower when a barking stopped him. He looked round to see 'Jogging Girl's dog, bounding towards him. The dog stopped when it reached him and stared up at him, tongue hanging out and panting. Roy squatted down so that he was eye level with the dog and gave it a scratch behind the ears.“Hello,” he said, smiling at the dog as it pushed its nose into his hand and licked his palm. “Where did you come from?” He stroked the back of the dog's neck and felt a collar underneath all his fur. He followed the collar round to the front to find the tag and looked at it. “Black Hayate?” he asked the dog who leaned forward and sniffed his chest as an answer. Ask a dog a question... Roy thought. He looked up from the dog and cast a glance around. 'Jogging Girl' was nowhere to be seen but Roy was content to sit and fuss with the dog for a moment.“Hayate!” a woman's voice called. “Black Hayate!” Roy looked up and saw 'Jogging Girl' running towards him, looking around frantically. “Black Hayate!”“Over here,” Roy called. He took hold of the dog's lead and stood up, waving to her. He saw her sigh with relief before jogging over to him.“Thank you so much,” she said smiling at him as she reached him. “I'm so sorry for troubling you, he just got away from me.”“It's no trouble at all,” Roy smiled at her as he handed over Black Hayate's lead. She took the lead and gave his head a stroke.“Hey you no more running off, okay,” she told the dog. He barked happily at her. She smiled at Roy looking up at him again. “Thank you, I don't know how far away he would have gotten if you hadn't have stopped him.”“It's no trouble,” Roy said again. “He came over to say 'hi' and I love dogs so I'm always happy to say 'hi' back.”“He does like to go up to bother strangers,” she said rolling her eyes. She studied Roy's face for a moment as if she were trying to place how she knew him. “You're the one I see walking to work every morning, right?”“Um yes,” Roy cleared his throat and held out his hand. “I'm Roy... Mustang.”“Riza Hawkeye,” she said holding out the hand that wasn't holding Black Hayate's lead. At the exact same time they both looked down to see Riza holding out the same hand as Roy. She chuckled nervously before swapping the lead to the other hand so that she could shake Roy's. “So what brings you to the park every morning?”“I walk through here on my way to work,” he said. “How about you?”“Jogging with the dog,” Riza said nodding in Black Hayate's direction and Roy suddenly realised that that should have been obvious. Roy shook his head and chuckled softly.“Of course,” he said. “I'm sorry, that was a stupid question.”“Just a little,” Riza replied grinning.“So still at it even on a weekend?” Roy asked trying to cover up his mistake.“Yeah,” Riza said looking down at her clothes.“I assume you're not off to work dressed like that,” she said, nodding at Roy's.“No,” he replied. “I thought I'd try and do something useful with my Saturday morning and I can't remember the last time I got a decent bit of exercise in.”“Tracksuit suits you,” Riza said. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she grimaced, realising how they must have sounded. “Not that you don't look good in your work clothes... God that sounded even worse. I'm sorry.”“No not at all,” Roy said hurriedly. “I mean this is the first time you've seen me in something that isn't a suit. I've only ever seen you in what you're in now.” He gestured to her tracksuit. He grimaced too; that had sounded terrible. Back up, try again and say something that doesn't make you sound like an arse, he thought. “Not that you don't look terribly nice in it. Okay that sounds bad too... what I mean to say is... oh just stop talking Roy.”Riza laughed and the sound was like music to Roy's ears. Just being able to talk to this woman after admiring her for weeks on end and all he was doing was tripping over his words like a sixteen year old. He never had this kind of trouble talking to women but she seemed to be making him incredibly tongue tied. Having said that she also seemed to be a little nervous (or maybe he was imagining it). A lock of her hair had fallen out of her ponytail and, without thinking about it Roy reached over and brushed it behind her ear. His eyes widened as she blushed and he immediately pulled his hand back.“So it's... er... nice to actually talk to you rather than just jogging past you every morning,” Riza said trying to gloss over what had just happened.“Yes,” Roy replied. “Very much so... it's nice to meet you properly.” Roy could barely take his eyes off her. He had seen how gorgeous she was when she had been running past him every morning but now here she was, in front of him, and he could not take his eyes off her. He felt something tug slightly at his legs but assumed it was the dog and paid it no attention. “So you must live near here.”“Just round the corner from the entrance to the park,” she said. “Near the swimming pool, you?”“About three roads down on the other side,” he told her. He could still feel that tugging but he continued to ignore it. “So we're on opposite sides then?”“Looks like we are,” Riza replied.“It's a gorgeous park,” Roy stated. “I almost wish I had started walking through here sooner.”“I like it,” Riza said nodding “and he likes chasing squirrels.”“I have seen quite a few running around here for him to...” Roy began but he was cut off as the tugging around his legs suddenly tightened and he felt his knees hitting something solid and Riza was suddenly a lot closer than she had been a second ago. He looked down and saw that while they had been talking Black Hayate had wound his lead around their legs but had gone off trying to chase squirrels and had pulled them together.“Oh my goodness I'm so sorry,” Riza said looking down as well. She tried to take a step backwards but that only seemed to pull on the lead even more and Roy was struggling to keep his balance.“Wait,” Roy said trying to take a step to regain his balance but that only seemed to pull the lead even tighter around their legs. “Don't move!”Before either he or Riza could do anything else, he lost his balance and fell backwards, taking Riza with him and sending the two of them crashing to the floor. On instinct Roy wrapped his arms around Riza to shield her from the fall although he knew that she was going to fall on top of him. As Roy's back hit the floor and Riza fell on top of him he closed his eyes and felt something soft hitting his lips. He looked up to see Riza staring down at him, their lips barely centimetres apart.The two of them suddenly stopped trying to struggle against the lead and stared at each other. Roy could feel his face heating up and he saw a blush dusting Riza's cheeks as well. She propped herself up on on hand and gently touched her lips with the other, staring down at Roy with wide eyes, barely able to believe what had just happened. If he was honest Roy hadn't expected it either. How often did things like this happen to actual people? Never! They only ever happened in films! It almost felt ridiculous, especially when that strand of her hair fell out again and Roy didn't even think before he reached up and brushed it back behind her ear. That seemed to snap Riza back to reality.“I'm so sorry,” she said as she began trying to untangle the lead while they were still on the floor. It was rather awkward but so was everything about this interaction so far. “I can't believe that just happened.”“It's fine,” Roy said waving her off. He took a deep breath, he really wished she would stop wriggling though. “It was just an accidental lip bump, we can laugh about it later.”“That sounds like a good plan,” Riza laughed. She had manage to untangle them and, very awkwardly pushed herself off Roy so that she could heave herself to her feet. She held out her hand and helped pull him up. Even though they were now both standing Roy neither of them let go of the other's hand. They continued to stand there staring at each other for a couple of minutes before Black Hayate barked, making them both jump. Roy instantly let go of Riza's hand and rubbed the back of his neck.He knew that this was going to be the part where he was supposed to just walk away, say that it was nice to meet her and then they could continue on with their lives; only just seeing each other first thing in the morning as she jogged past him on his way to work. He knew that he was supposed to do that but he didn't want to. He had spent way too much time admiring this woman to just leave her now without taking a shot. Besides they had already had an accidental kiss so what did he have to loose?“Would you like to go and have lunch with me?” he asked. “Just to make up for the... er... accidental lip bump.” Riza stared at him, blinking. The silence that followed seem to stretch on for longer than Roy was comfortable with (although he was sure that it seemed longer to him because he was waiting for an answer). A smile spread across Riza's face.“That sounds nice,” she said. Roy's heart leapt and he had to make sure that he didn't end up jumping for joy like a giddy school-boy.“Fantastic,” he said a little breathlessly. “There's this lovely little café I pass on the way to work near the top of the park. Never been in there but there's seats outside and we should get a nice bit of sun up there now.”“That sounds wonderful,” Riza said. “Lead the way.”“Okay,” Roy nodded smiling and began walking in the direction of the café with Riza beside him and Black Hayate trotting at their heels. The café was as nice inside as it looked outside. Roy and Riza sat at one of the outside tables in the sun with Black Hayate lying beside the table. The waitress had fussed around him for a bit and had bought him out a dish of water and some dog biscuits free of charge. Black Hayate enjoyed the attention but Roy was only interest in Riza. He was already quite smitten with her and with everything she said he found himself becoming more and more attracted to her. He didn't want this to ever end.After they had made both lunch and coffee last as long as they possibly could Roy offered to walk Riza home, which she accepted. It was mid afternoon by that point and there were more people around; families out enjoying the sunshine, teenagers lounging around by the duck pond (smoking and trying to get laid) and more people out with dogs. Roy paid no attention to any of them, all his attention was solely focused on Riza. The way she smiled, the way she got particularly animated when she talked about something she was passionate about and the way she also seemed to be focusing solely on him. Everything about her had Roy smitten.Finally they arrived at her front door and Roy had just about worked up enough courage to try for a proper kiss this time (or if not at least ask for her phone number). While Riza fumbled around in her pockets for her front door keys Roy leaned down and gave Black Hayate a scratch behind the ears and was returned with a lick to the forearm. He looked up at Riza when she was finished and smiled.“I had a lovely time,” Riza said. “Thank you so much for lunch and for catching my dog and I'm sorry for knocking you over and accidentally kissing you.”“It's quite alright,” Roy laughed. “I actually quite enjoyed it.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realised what he had said. He sighed and closed his eyes as if he were in physical pain, waiting to hear the door close in his face. He might as well at least try and salvage the situation. “I meant...”“I know what you meant,” Riza laughed. Roy sighed with relief and laughed, opening his eyes.“Thank god,” he said.“Well,” Riza said after a short pause “it was very nice to meet you Roy and I guess I will see you same time Monday morning.”“I guess so,” Roy said. “I'll see you Monday.”“See you Monday,” Riza said and leaned forward slightly. Roy blanched a little, was she leaning in for a kiss? He looked down and saw her outstretched arm... okay she was leaning in for a hug. That made more sense. Roy leaned in to hug her and realised a little too late that she was probably leaning in for a handshake. What was his problem today? He turned his head at the last second to try and salvage the situation but so did Riza and as they turned their lips brushed in another accidental kiss.“You were going in for a handshake weren't you?” Roy said pulling away quickly. This was so awkward! Could it get any worse? Riza laughed softly.“Yeah,” she said. Roy smacked the palm of his hand to his forehead.“I'm such an idiot,” he groaned.“It's fine,” Riza said. “Accidental lip bump; we can laugh about it later.” God she was perfect! If there was any woman who could make him feel better about being a complete idiot then it was her. He couldn't just leave it till Monday to see her again and he didn't want to just go back to waving to her on her morning jog.“Oh screw it,” he muttered under his breath before he slipped his hand round the back of her neck and pulled her into a proper kiss. He felt her stiffen in surprise for a second before she kissed him back, reaching up to grab hold of the front of his t-shirt with both hands and push herself right up against him. As they kissed Roy wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her even closer. They stayed like that until the need for air became too strong and they pulled away from each other, panting, but still holding on to each other as if to keep themselves standing. Roy reached over and brushed Riza's fringe out of her eyes.“Wow,” she breathed.“Yeah,” Roy replied in kind.“Is this what you do with everyone you meet in the park?” she asked.“Not since I was seventeen,” Roy replied grinning sheepishly. “Riza you are stunning and I have been admiring you since I first saw you... That makes me sound like a stalker... What I mean is I want to see you again and not just as you're jogging past me in the park. I mean I want to see you out of you jogging clothes and... oh god, just stop talking Roy!” Riza laughed before she reached up to kiss him again to get him to stop rambling.“I'd like that,” she said, smiling.“Wonderful,” Roy said, a similar smile spreading over his face before he leaned down to kiss her again. This was the perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon and, hopefully if he played his cards right, then it would not be the last Saturday he spent like this.
10746930	A Crown Of Bitter Gold	{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": null, "Characters": "Robb Stark, Jon Snow, Samwell Tarly, Lyanna Stark, Ned Stark, Catelyn Tully Stark, Theon Greyjoy, Robert Baratheon, Viserys Targaryen (Brother of Daenerys), Missandei (A Song of Ice and Fire), Grey Worm (A Song of Ice and Fire), Grey Wind \| Robb Stark's Direwolf, Ghost \| Jon Snow's Direwolf", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by ActivationofFate", "chapters": "6/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-27T00:00:00", "words": "45,797", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Memory Loss, Yunkai, Slavery, Essos, Violence, Slaver's Bay, fighting pits, Canon-Typical Violence, The Golden Company (A Song of Ice and Fire), Mercenaries, Tags May Change, Other Additional Tags to Be Added", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Jon Snow/Robb Stark, Catelyn Tully Stark/Ned Stark, Gilly/Samwell Tarly, Grey Worm/Missandei (A Song of Ice and Fire)", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "M/M, F/M", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	✩ A Crown of Bitter Gold ✩ * The Gold Cloaks are not here, she thought, quickly. That’s good. All the City Watch must be gathered at the Red Keep, as it should be. Though the cold air hit her in the face, marred by exhaustion from her long and tedious journey, she didn’t flinch. Drawing her hood up tightly against the wind, she pulled on the reins harder, shivering slightly under the folds of her cloak, eyes grim and turbulent. Riding fast along the streets, she regarded King's Landing with a long, thoughtful look. Something seemed odd. It's been a while but even so, people looked different. Happier, in a way. The air spilling from the harbors was smooth and joyful. Raucous screams met her ride. Laughs, and heartfelt greetings. Cheers, and hoots. People out in the streets hurrying fast and out of her way, muttering madly between them, some of them short of breath due to excitement. A few turned their bright, watery eyes to the rising towers of the Red Keep in the distance, their genuine happiness easy to see.Urging her horse forward, she cast one last look at their young, summer faces and guilt surged up within her. She wanted so much to feel the same, yet she knew her insides were far from it.On the horizon, dawn was finally nearing and with it a low lazy light which was spilling widely overland, barely brushing the roof of tall imposing buildings before gently fizzing out in the haze of the woodland beyond. The sound of hooves rose up and loud and she rode right through the gates of the market place with grim determination on her face. Flicking the reins a little faster, she saw a blur of people on both sides of the street, wandering amongst the stalls with shrill voices shuddering through. Memories of home rushed back at her, making her eyes prickle, her body slumping down into the safety of her own transport, trying to breathe through the spasm of nostalgia unclenching in her chest.Her last days on King's Landing had been filled with merriment, she recalled. Her brother Ned had wed Catelyn Tully on the godwoods, from North to South the whole Realm rejoiced in their union. She hadn't seen much of her family since then but not a day went by she hadn't thought of them. Now it was hard to think of this day as one of joy.“So, this isn’t Summerhall anymore, right Jon?” Lyanna Stark muttered.Gazing down lovingly, a fond smile splitted her face when she saw her baby barely stirring in his sleep. His grey stormy eyes were wide awake now, a frown forming slightly between his brows. He was upset with the noise and that gave her a rush of hope. Too much like his Father. Drawing up the reins again, Lyanna picked her son up and gave him a lift so the babe could see with his little big eyes the Red Keep’s towers peeking out in the distance.“Look.” Lyanna whispered, softly, in his little ear. “That’s your new home.”Satisfied, she flicked the reins and the wagon rattled into motion again. Screams and hoots first only fishwives and then, buyers, blacksmiths, stable boys and inn-keepers, poured into their way as they rode. Lyanna knew why they were for after all, when was the last time the King’s sister had come here for a visit, and with the royal birth…She sighed and looked down at Jon again. I’m an awful person.It wasn’t secret that King’s Landing was welcoming his new King. Her brother Ned and his wife Catelyn had become parents to a baby boy. The raven had reached her a few days ago when she was in Summerhall recovering from her own childbirth and she couldn’t have been happier with the news. Ned and Cat had longed for an heir their entire lives, yet for many years her good sister had issues with getting pregnant. But when it was finally official, Lyanna had been the first one to congratulate them, dreaming of the day her son and her nephew could finally meet each other and if the old Gods were good then seal an alliance between both Houses for once and for good. But this had been before everything happened.The wagon halted. She knew her Brother’s court was not expecting her so she didn't dare to cross the drawbridge just yet. Instead, she just waited on her end and immediately as if summoned, a distant set of hooves was heard distantly clattering upon the bridge. Fewer than a score of knights rode forth to meet with her, some of them empty-handed but the rest carrying a banner with a black stag on a field of gold in their hands. The first one drew his horse up and removed the helmet from his head in front of her, releasing a thick mane of hair that fell shabbily around his face like a halo.“So, the Master of Law is in charge of the welcoming committee now?” Lyanna laughed as she pulled the hood off her head too and let it pool around her shoulders. The brown-haired knight almost fell from his saddle at the bare sight of her.“Lyanna…” He whispered, astonished. Lyanna offered a brittle smile up to him, cradling Jon in her arms.“Hello Robert.” She leant forward and gave her brother’s best friend a kiss in the cheek. He immediately dismounted from his horse and helped her to do the same.“What are you doing here?” Robert barked. His men looked just as bewildered as he did, all of them sharing a look of utter disbelief behind their massive captain and his mount. “Do you want to kill your own brother when his son is not even a year old?”“I believe the Realm is doing that for me.” Lyanna quipped playfully but her face soured immediately afterwards, recalling the purpose of her visit. “Look, I came because I need to speak to him. If this weren’t important, I wouldn’t—”“You jumped into a wagon and came to King’s Landing all alone with Jon, that’s important enough for me.” He ruffled Jon’s little black hair with his big beefy hand and beamed. “He will be glad to see you.”“And I to see him.” Lyanna dragged her eyes away from Robert and tilted her head up to look past him and forth onto his dashing companions, noticing their cheerless faces under the bleak morning light of the capitol. She blinked. “What’s wrong?”Robert sighed, looking crestfallen all of the sudden. Above them, the sun was high and the clouds were piling in the far west so there was nothing between the rooftops and the clear blue sky above. It was only then Lyanna realized the bells of the city were not tolling as they’re supposed to and a shadow of doubt settled in her young, beautiful face. -- “The night was kind to Her Grace this time,” Grand Maester Pycelle said, his voice raspy and breathless, as he exited the royal bedchamber with a feeble gait and joined the King and his entourage on the hallway.“But?” Ned questioned at once, sitting outside on a bench with his hands gripping tightly both his knees. His bloodshot eyes landed on the old Maester and he watched him feebly wipe the sweat off his face with an old rag.“She won’t wake up.” Maester Pycelle finished sourly and the King felt like the floor was sinking under his feet.Catelyn had had a rough childbirth a few days ago. Ned hadn’t intended it to be official since he had his hopes up his wife would make a full recovery anytime soon but none of that ever happened and the King was desperate. Days and nights he would sit outside his solar and stare at the ripples on the door, feeling like the lost boy of the North who had lost his mother Lyarra the same way. He hadn’t been King in those days though. He breathed out shakily and raked a hand through his tangled hair, slumping further into his seat. For a moment, he yearned for the North, he yearned for the salty air to become a winter wind like the ones he used to see when he was a child, and he yearned for the touch of the Wolfswood to help his son in what his Father clearly couldn’t, like it did with its hungry children. Robb was only a few days old yet his cradle was the Iron Throne and his face would be in the colorful tapestries amongst the High Kings of Westeros one day. He had a strong grip on him for being so young and a northern look, yet the tosses and cries were only because he needed his Mother.“We need to find a wet nurse for the Prince, Your Grace.” Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, told him patiently, standing under a wall sconce and right next to him. “The Prince can’t go through another night like this. I’m sure we can find a lady with a recent child in the Realm until the Queen recovers from her illness.”“Very well.” Janos Slynt snorted. He carried his iron helmet in the crook of his arm and he looked impatient. “Lord Tarly’s wife gave birth recently to a boy. She will do.”“In Horn Hill?” Jon Arryn opened his old eyes in bemusement. “That’s eight hundred miles away.”“Summon Varys.” Ned sighed finally, looking stern and imposing. “No one better for the job. I want his little birds to find someone so we can bring her at court.”“I believe Varys’s little birds were a little late this time, brother.” He heard a willowy voice saying about him and his breath stilled behind his teeth.He snapped his head up and saw for the first time in what felt like forever Lyanna, striding down the hallway to meet him and being closely followed by Robert. This is an illusion, he thought first. He had been evoking far too much the memories of his homeland as of late, yet the face of his friend didn’t dare to lie, nor did the eyes of the woman who drew to a stop just in front of him, a woman whom he knew too well. Lyanna, his sister and wife to the heir of House Targaryen. The sister he had not seen since his own wedding because…“Lyanna…” He whispered, like he was seeing a ghost. Perhaps, he was.“Lady Stark.” Jon Arryn bowed, as well as Maester Pycelle.“What are you doing here?” Ned asked, standing up hastily but he froze when he eyed the little buddle Robert was holding behind her. This couldn’t be Robb. “Is it…?”“My son, Jon.” She said softly but then, her mouth twisted into a scowl and she eyed her brother accusingly. “Why didn’t you tell me Catelyn was sick, Ned?”“And you…” He added, but his mind fogged with this sudden piece of news he had not seen coming his way. Clearing his throat, he asked. “Rhaegar. Why did he let you come here alone?”A shadow settled on her beautiful face. Ned saw his sister palling all of the sudden and then her hands reaching up to clutch the collar of her cloak above her chest in a quick instant, her knuckles white. He swallowed and felt something cold gripping his own stomach. Is this going to end? He wondered, as he took in the thin line of her lips and the colorless cheeks, a sight even the North would claim is a bad augur.“Rhaegar is dead.” Lyanna said.Ned and his three advisors stilled, their eyes bulging, raw fear gripping tightly and rendering them speechless. Rhaegar. The Silver Prince. Dead.“I’ll tell you everything about why I’m here,” She said, the grimness in her eyes turning to pain, then turning to lead. She blinked the tears back in with a sigh and huffed out. “But first, I need to see Robb.” -- “Rebellion?” Janos Slynt slurred, in shock. “That’s absurd.”The assembly had been called upon midnight. Ned weighed each of their counselor's words from his place at his high seat of the Small Council’s table and his face was stricken, filled with distress, as both hands of his were flat against the wood. His counselors were sitting on both sides of the table and their faces were no different from the King’s, sharing a look of utter trepidation and fear as if these dark tidings from the south were still a strong whip gripping tightly on their necks. Torches had been lit all around the turrets and ramparts, and in the halls, casting weak shadows across the stone walls and staving off the cold of the chamber with their heat.“She’s not lying.” Robert Baratheon pounded his fist upon the table with a feral gleam across his eyes and his weight shifted on the chair with a loud creaking noise, the flatness of it travelling all the way ‘round the chamber and filling the air. He was sitting just across the King and a few seats down from him, Lyanna leant on her elbows to look sideways at him with eyes full of hurt. “I had no love for Rhaegar, but I had even less for his wrecked family who dared call themselves supporters of the Crown once. Should’ve seen treason coming from the bloody dragons.”“My son is still a Targaryen, Robert.” Lyanna shushed him, glaring at her close friend with the fierceness of a mother behind her eyes. “And Rhaegar believed in a bond between House Targaryen and the Crown. He was the one who tried to talk some sense into Viserys and was murdered because of it.”“Viserys would never do something like that.” Janos Slynt argued, looking contrite, as his bald shaved head gleamed white under the firelight of the wall sconce hanging above him. “He’s the second in succession to Summerhall and always has been a friend to the Crown.”“Then why did I leave?” Lyanna turned on him sharply, her lips twisting in dissapointment. “Would I have my son killed just like his Father was? Viserys called his banners and is massing a force in Summerhall to strike King’s Landing. He wants the Throne, and he wants Ned and Robb’s heads when he does. If he was capable of murdering his own brother, what do you think he would do with them?”Ned weighed his sister’s words lengthily and with ice running thick in his veins. King’s Landing had not been taken in a hundred years and nor in any way would Ned think it will happen again. Not from the dragonlords, not when he believed House Targaryen to be akin after Lyanna and Rhaegar’s wedding. The black cells underneath the Keep had been almost empty for all these years since the few rebellions which had challenged his tenure had been successfully put out thanks to Robert’s restless eye. And since becoming King the only matter which had tormented him daily was the fact he couldn’t produce an heir to rightfully succeed him in the Iron Throne when his time comes.“Did someone follow you?” He asked his sister. She shook her head rapidly.“No. Rhaegar made sure all his personal guard was with me and Jon before—” She trailed off. Unseeingly, her fingers clutched the fabric of her dress just above her lap and her eyes, once so sweet and carefree, now were beginning to shine to the brim with tears. “They were all killed when we were trying to escape.”“Ned, let me go to the stormlands.” Robert’s voice boomed across the room, hard and urgent. “Renly and I will take an army with us and reduce the dragonspawn and his men to pieces.”“Too easy words of war become acts of war, Robert.” Ned scolded him. “And The Realm is not prepared to be divided in such a way. You have my permission to go and call upon the Storm knights but I want you to ask for a parley with Viserys first in a place both parties deem suitable.”“Yes, Your Grace.”“I want ravens to all of the High Lords in Westeros, my Brother Benjen in the North and my father-in-law in the Riverlands. Lyanna and Jon will stay here in the Red Keep. Should negotiations fail, I will make sure my nephew remains safe from the Targaryens. I fear his life might be in more danger than mine, considering he’s the heir to their House now. And I’m sure Robb will be glad to have a playmate.”Lyanna smiled gratefully at him and the King drew the meeting to an end. He bid his counselors a good night's sleep, all things considered, and told them to wait and see how things were during the morrow. Judging by the quick glance he shooted in her direction as he and his men filed out together the Small Council’s chamber, Lyanna knew he was hoping for the Gods to hear his nightly prayer once he’s in the godswood alone and out of everyone’s eye. She couldn’t blame him, though, as she would do the same in his place. Clutching a fur-trimmed cloak she had borrowed from Catelyn to her pale shoulders, Lyanna turned to leave as well and headed straight to Maegor’s Holdfast, where the chambers her brother had made up especially for her awaited.Before opening the doors, she smiled to herself. Sneaking in as quietly as she could, Lyanna closed the door behind her and glided over to a crib that was set up just beneath the window.“What is it, Jon?” Lyanna peeked inside the crib and looked down fondly upon both babies who were lying comfortably next to the other, both of them were awake and their eyes big and watery in the dark. “You don’t like him?”Robb had a tiny fist close to his cousin’s face and seemed unable to keep quiet while Jon was upset with his antics. Lyanna laughed for his little face was crinkled into a grimace of annoyance and he looked upset. And then, the smile faded from her face as she recalled a memory of Rhaegar and Viserys while in their youth. They were once so close, just like these two, but all of the sudden, Viserys had a change of heart and he was no longer the boy Lyanna knew. The Dragon’s sickness. If the tales of his House were to be believed, Lyanna knew nothing of them. All she knew was that her brother-in-law grew restless with thoughts of war and insurrection from one moment to the other and it didn’t take long for him to act on them, banishing or having executed all those who thought differently than him. Men killed each other for power, but not these two. Not Jon and Robb.“Please, take care of one another, no matter what happens.” She prayed, her eyes burning and her fingers gently pushing Robb’s little red auburn curls away from his face. The baby looked up at her with curiosity… but then his blue eyes widened when a howl broke into the chambers.Lyanna stood up quickly and ran to the windows. The city laid asleep beneath her, yet the night breeze was bringing faint echoes of different howls from the distant Kingswood. She covered her mouth with her hands, because the sound was… despairing. The sound was a call for the North. The sound was a call for home.“Wolves… here in the Crownlands?” She pondered. Somehow, that alone brought back memories of her childhood in the Wolfswood. But it couldn’t be.With her body pressed against the windowsill and eyes glued to the night sky, she failed to see how the door opened behind her. And someone, a shadow, fast, blurry, deceitful, slipped inside. -- Ten years later -- “Your Grace, the King requires your presence in the Small Council’s Hall.”Catelyn Tully let her hands fall flatly at both sides of her body after the announcement. The Seven looked down on her as she rose from her praying stance soundlessly and she strolled out of the sept with a hasty step. She knew her thoughts hardly leave this place even if she physically did now, no matter where she was, and inwardly she begged them to guide her, to give her courage, and to walk with her when the steps to take before her were unwanted. Lately, there were so few hands left to reach out when everything seemed to be the herald of bad news.And also, she knew what awaited her today. It’s been ten years since Ned’s sister Lyanna Stark had died unexpectedly, murdered the day she came to King’s Landing with Jon after her gruesome escape. As Catelyn was in a fever sleep, she’d only found out about it many days later when the face of her husband stricken with grief welcomed her with the terrible news. And from that day on, Ned had never been the same. After all, his sister had been killed under his very roof and under the protection of the Kingsguard, but that also had served to narrow things down in order to identify the murderer. That night, Janos Slynt had disappeared from the Capitol. A man who all this time had been a Targaryen loyalist, secretly plotting with Viserys to betray the King but still hidden under his cover as servant of the castle so no one would suspect of him.“Why? Any news about him?” She asked Ser Preston Greenfield, the first member of the Queensguard, as she made her way out of the sept. The knight shook his head in regret, striding behind her.“No. But a letter arrived… from the Riverlands.”Her heart sank. Her Father had recently joined the war, she knew, but there were tales of the Lannisters from the West forming an alliance with the Targaryens. If that was true, then Hoster Tully would have it very difficult to plan the offensive. Her dress of blue lambswool was skirting across the marble floor as she strode forth across the castle’s layout in a worried hurry. Her face was no different, always knowing and always fearing. Sedately she walked, as a Queen, but still couldn’t hide her distress and her own mind was betraying her as well. Casting a quick look at the exterior of the castle from the flickering windows, she was met with the sight of the ramparts full of guardsmen walking their rounds. Why so many? She wanted to scream. This was so wrong.“There’s no need to be worried, Your Grace.” Ser Preston assured her.He and Ser Hugh of the Vale had taken in as her personal escorts today and both kept a close step behind her rear. Her steward, Cayn, was trotting behind them in a poor attempt to keep up. When she turned right, finally the door of the Small Council’s Hall bled into vision at the end of the hallway and she felt the air tightening in her throat with each quivering step towards it. Be strong for Ned and Robb.“Your Grace…”“Your Grace…”The moment the doors tilted and let her in, Catelyn stood by them and looked upon all the members of the Small Council’s table with stern, blazing eyes. As customary, Ned was at the head of the table and their eyes met for the briefest second of time. He had aged so much these last few years he was almost unrecognizable, like an old man of one hundred instead of his forty. Red veins were starting to cradle his drained eyes and Catelyn had the sick impression the only reason he was still sitting straight in his head chair was because Robert was holding him firmly, sitting by his side. Before she could walk up to her chair, her heart leapt to her throat when she eyed a pile of scrolls over the table, wax seals from every House in Westeros, including the leaping fish of the Tully’s, so many that Ned’s arms had convulsed under them.“Ned… This…”“They’ve lost, Cat.” That’s all he uttered out, his strength resting upon the seabed of the Narrow Sea. “Viserys Targaryen won.”No… No. It couldn’t be. Catelyn clutched the collar of her tunic and thousands of knives cut her open from throat to stomach. She staggered back, waiting for someone in this room to contradict their King’s words, it had to be someone, anyone, but no one muttered another word. Her father. Her House. Riverrun burning and she had been away, too far away.“How did this happen?” She finally asked, finding her voice.“House Lannister has joined forces with Viserys Targaryen, Your Grace.” Jon Arryn grimly informed her. “Hoster Tully raised his arms against them. When the northern army came to his aid it was too late.”King’s Landing had only hours now. That remained unsaid but it was the only truth no one in this room dared to deny. Catelyn felt a cold twist in her guts. Stay strong for Robb, she remembered. She took one scroll from the table with a trembling hand and her eyes darted to Jon Arryn worriedly.“And my sister Lysa? Your son?”“The Vale has not been attacked.” Lord Arryn promised her. “She and Robin are in a safe place, though. The real prize…”The real prize is the King’s head, she thought miserably. This could not be happening.“The heir of House Targaryen did gain the position he was hoping for, I’m afraid.” Lord Varys agreed, without his usual flowery touch. “Even if his last attempts were indeed suffocated.”“The son of a whore has rallied an army of 150.000 strong now that he has Tywin behind him.” Robert snorted. “Benjen couldn’t have done anything from the North. Not even with all the wildlings fighting by his side.”“If he comes to our doorstep, King’s Landing will withstand the thrust, Your Grace.” Ser Barristan placated them with a knowing look. “It will give enough time for the army’s reserves to come and attack them in the rear.”“And who will come, Ser Barristan?” Ned growled. “Ten years ago, my sister came to this very Hall and warned me something like this could happen. I did not listen to her the way a King always should… and I lost her. I’m paying for my sins now.” The King’s fingers were almost white, and fingernails blue, clawing at the last bits of the armrest he was currently occupying and shaking his head dryly from one side to the other in silent anger. “I will not let the ones I love suffer the same fate as hers.” He whispered softly after a small beat of silence. He looked up. “I want word to Stannis, Robert. Ask him how many fighting men and ships he has in Dragonstone.”“Yes, Your Grace.”“Ser Barristan.” He turned to the old knight at the other end of the table, his gaze stern and somber. “Jon and Robb are forbidden to leave the Red Keep. Also, from this day on, they will have four of the Kingsguard guarding them day and night. The gold cloaks will be committed to the city walls, I want six thousand men patrolling the capitol from the Mud Gate to the Gate of the Gods and the road to Rosby and I want the people to see them as they do.”“Ned, the people…” Catelyn started.“…need to know what’s coming.”She nodded weakly and looked away.As she was leaving the Small Council’s Hall, blood pounding in her ears, almost blurring her sight, she braced herself with the thick stone walls of the castle before attempting to walk and sighed. But then, the morning gave her another major headache when Lady Tanda of House Stokeworth appeared at the other end of the hallway, with a hand lifting up her skirts and an ugly scowl sported on her face.“Your Grace… May I have a word?” She asked, unpleasantly.“What is it, Lady Tanda?” The lady stood up in front of her and snapped.“My necklace of sapphires and moonstones. The pride of House Stokeworth. The one which’s been in my family for over one hundred years is gone. I want that wrecked little boy to return it immediately.”“Which one? Jon or Robb?” Catelyn sighed. Yes, this morning was going to be long.“I don’t know. I can’t tell them apart, you know that.” The old lady hissed. “All I know is that I want it back now and see the one who did it is rightly punished for such perversion.”“Yes, yes.” Catelyn prompted, though mostly because she wanted to get rid of her as soon as possible. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to them, my Lady.”Catelyn huffed in annoyance. It was way too early in the day to deal with this. -- “Please My Lord, we don’t know any Janos Slynt. We’ve never heard of this name before.”“Really? You’re the biggest sellsword’s company in these woods, and yet you claim to ignore the man who pays the highest rewards?”“We never took a job from him. Please, let us go.”There was a big snort, combined with the sound of rustling leaves in the clearing. The bigger man swayed like a trapped deer in the massive net that was hanging from one of the branches as the men tangled up below him were greensick, facing a chain of sharp teeth from both beasts that were growling at them from the bottom of the clearing. The boy with auburn curls and mocking eyes strode up to them, his small hand reaching out to stroke the biggest direwolf’s head thoughtfully and his fingers danced across his fur, looking at the band of outlaws caught in a childish trap with a cocky grin in his eyes.“Are you lying to me?” He nudged the leader with a small finger. “You know, lying to the King is a terrible thing to do. And my wolf doesn’t like it.”“You’re not the King yet, Robb.” The brunette boy quipped, jumping from a low branch that was on a chestnut tree across from them and landing with his two feet on the ground. “Besides, I think they’re telling the truth.”“Of course they are, to get off the hook.” The boy replied, rolling his eyes. “We’ve questioned every band of outlaws in the Kingswood and I won’t leave until we have an answer.”“Then, you will be here for a long time.”Sadness tinged his grey stormy eyes as usual and Robb watched him turn his back on him sourly, retreating further into the woods until he was out of sight. Robb sighed. Both of them had been just babies when Jon’s mother was murdered in her bedroom ten years ago. In time his parents had explained to them everything about Jon’s parentage and the conflict which now afflicted his paternal family, now in open rebellion with the Crown; and since that day, Robb had insisted on sneaking out the Red Keep together and seek justice by themselves, although and as expected, they had been unlucky so far. Obviously, both of his parents had no idea of this or they wouldn't let them come, but since their lives as Princes in the Red Keep were so boring this has become much like normalcy to them over the years.After all, one of the nights they’d snuck out, they’d also found two little wolf cubs curled up together at the root of an old tree. They were only cubs so Robb had decided to keep them. But as they came back home the other day, they couldn’t come up with a decent excuse to Catelyn other than confess the truth of their little escapades. It was still a mystery how they had kept their pets after all.“Still, they’re no innocents, Jon. They must know something.”“Look at them. They even fell for the old necklace’s trick. It’s obvious they have nothing to do with the man who murdered my mother.”Jon’s voice was bitter, cold even, and Robb fought off the urge to reach for him and comfort him. He hated when Jon insisted on dealing with his pain alone. Instead, he only loosened the rope of the net that was swinging atop their heads reluctantly and the band of sellswords fell into the ground with a loud thud. Grey Wind, the biggest direwolf of the two, prowled at them from behind, hackles up, growls joining in the din from the deep of his throat like shards of ice on a cold day. The quohorik leader let out a panicked cry that rang aloud across the forest, folding his chubby legs with both his arms to his chest and his teeth started clattering maddeningly. The smallest of them shooted to his feet in a blink of an eye and dashed to the furthest pine or ravine he could find. Soon, the rest of them followed him and as their screams died out into the night, the stars drove out overheard and shone scantingly across the dim blue sky of the forest.“Hey, don’t be upset.” Robb said to Jon, cheerfully, walking up to him. His hand gripped Jon’s shoulder gently and he spun him around so he could look at him in the eye. “I promise you we are going to find the man who killed Aunt Lyanna. And I’ll be King someday, so I can’t really break my promises.”“Thanks but you’ve been breaking your promises to everyone, starting with your parents.” Jon laughed, and lifted his own hand to cover his. “We shouldn’t even be here.”“It’s their fault.” Robb deadpanned. “Did they really think they can keep us locked up inside the damn Keep?”“Maybe they have reasons to.” Jon argued, facing his cousin with a frown. “We keep seeing more and more outlaws in the Kingswood each day. I think something is happening…”Robb looked at him skeptically. He did know the Small Council’s meetings were increasing drastically these last few weeks and security within the castle was something he had not seen before, but other than that, he did not feel scared. The rebellion didn’t scare him. Yet, he was often lectured by his younger cousin about how reckless and naïve he could be, especially in times like these.“Always taking things so seriously.” Robb leapt over a crooked root and snatched the muddy necklace from the dirt again, slipping it back into his pocket. Somewhere not so far away, the roar of the Wendwater stirred and Grey Wind and Ghost ran together to the nearest banks, maybe to take a drink or hunt something unusual at the streambed. “You’re starting to sound like Sam.”“I don’t.” Jon snapped, glaring back at him with a frown. “You should start paying more attention. And— where is Sam?”“He’s at the city gates. I told him to keep an eye on the Gold Cloaks and let us know if they’re coming.”“I hope he runs fast this time.” Jon mused. “We should head back, Robb. It’s nearly mor—”“Guys!”Both snapped their heads up at the same time and saw none other than Samwell Tarly, sliding down the side of a steep hill in a flurry and barreling right straight at them and through the trees with his face red. But just when he was a few paces from both, he tripped over a loose rock and fell face-first into the dirt, issuing some laughs and jests his way. The brunette shook his head and held out his hand, wondering how many times he had helped Samwell Tarly out of the ground in the scant time they’d known each other, but he smiled down at him all the same and helped him up. He did know the boy was taken as a ward in the Red Keep since his father was fighting in the war.“What is it, Sam? The Gold Cloaks?”“Theon’s giving you a hard time again?” Robb asked, smirking.He shook his head.“The— the King—” He said, breathlessly, his eyes fixed on Robb. “Your… Father…”“Easy, Sam.” Robb bent down by his side and gripped his shoulders patiently. “Tell me what happened.”“Janos Slynt.” He blurted out and Jon’s face paled instantly. Sam swallowed hard a couple of times, and then said. “They found him.” -- “Jon! Wait!”Robb’s voice was faint over the din of the city but Jon didn’t slow down nor intended to and instead just ran faster across King Landing’s streets. Ghost, the pale direwolf, was just running alongside him, bushy, white tail held stiffly upright above his massive body, and there were screams or yellings from sellors across the Street of Silk when both boy and wolf dashed past their stalls at a breakneck speed, threatening to crash or tip them over in their haste. Jon didn’t care. How much he had longed for this moment, all these years of wait were finally over and he wasn’t sure how exactly did he feel having the man who murdered his mother just in front of him. When he arrived at the castle, he shoved past two of the Kingsguard who were standing by their posts just outside the Great Hall and for the scream they issued afterwards he knew Sam had admittedly ran into one of them.Each and one of the thousand blades crowning the Iron Throne were reflecting the amount of people huddled together in the vast, cavernous halls as Jon entered the room, breathless and bending down at the waist to clutch at his knees. He sobered up immediately and scrambled his way into the crowd without question. He spotted his Uncle Ned standing by the dais, Ice, his Greatsword, next to him and almost as tall and imposing as him. The Kingsguard were about the King and just by the great oak-and-bronze doors, Ser Barristan stood firmly and looked sideways at the slowly gathering crowd with a calm yet unsettled silence. He was the first one to spot Jon by the steps of the Hall and as expected the boy came barreling down at him, his eyes racing.“Is it true?” Jon asked him just as Robb halted right next to him.Ser Barristan just firmed his jaw and said nothing. Jon swallowed thickly and the Lord Commander gripped his shoulder to escort him to the royal family knowingly. He felt something in his hand and when he looked down, Robb’s hand was in his, intertwining their fingers together.“In the name of all the Gods, where were you?” Catelyn tore herself away from her husband in a blink and walked up to them, scowling.“Mother, what’s going on?” Robb asked her. “Is it true what Sam said?”“This is no place for—”“I want to see!” Jon yelled, his eyes bright as he flickered them across both his aunt and uncle bracingly. “He’s here, isn’t he? I want to see him.”“Cat…” Ned whispered and his wife stiffened. Reluctantly, she bowed her head at him and both boys picked up the hint.They raced to the Iron Throne together and clambered up in a blink, leaning upon the sharp edges of the swords to peek above the smallfolk’s heads and try to see what all the fuss was about. But after a few seconds, both blinked in stupor and turned their heads to look at each other confusingly. The Gold Cloaks were standing around a body, Janos Slynt was dead. Jon stumbled back in shock and Robb felt bones cracking where he was holding his hand, hard.“This was Viserys’s answer when I called for armistice.” Ned said, visibly shaken. “He delivered me the body of the man who killed my sister.”“But why would they kill him?” Robert asked puzzlingly.“Because ten years ago, Janos Slynt failed to kill the boys.” Ser Barristan explained, severely. “This looks like something the Targaryens would do.”“This is a game for Viserys, isn’t it?” Robert growled. “Damn the man!”What is this? Jon asked himself, angrily. Watching the corpse laid out and unmoving in front of him, which wasn’t in the slightest the man he had imagined all his life, all he knew now was that someone had taken vengeance away from him. There was something in his eyes which hadn't been there for a long time and then, tears started to build up behind his lashes, undeterred.“Jon…” Robb whispered softly, by his side. He frowned and tried to come up with something to cheer him up, but he heard a loud thud upon the floor and his blue eyes darted to his Father, whose sword had just fallen heavy onto the dais and the look behind his eyes was scathing.“Maester Pycelle…” Ned beckoned the Old Maester closer with one swift flick of his wrist and the old, wizened man stumbled up to him shakily. “The state of the body. Was it…?”“Yes, Your Grace. No doubt about it.” He whispered, his old voice cracking. “It was dragonfire.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Most of them were young. Boys, only a couple years older than Robb. Other, could be just around the age of his brother Benjen. Knights and soldiers, southmen and northmen, some even still clasping weapons or their missing extremities. He has to be sure his eyes reach each and one of them. These were the ones who had made it to King’s Landing. The rest died on the battlefield, defending the Realm. He feels the last vestiges of air leaving his lungs. The weight of the crown had never compressed his shoulders more than this moment, and there wasn’t a night darker than this one he could remember. Being King right now, was seeing probably more dead than his Father had in his time, and his Grandfather before him.His great cloak skirts across the marble floor as he moves between the corpses. Every time his fingers curl and uncurl helplessly was for every one of this fatal blows came haunting his very skin, the skin of the King who as a terrible father had failed to protect his sons. Robert follows him with his eyes, unable to reach with words what was happening in his mind. This was only a matter of time.“Renly lost in Bitterbridge.” Ned says, neither as an affirmation nor a question. Just defeat.“The Crown lost one tenth of cavalry trying to defend the Goldroad from Viserys’s second Targaryen army. They didn’t fall into our trap, they smashed it.” Robert confirms, the shadow of his face was only half the commander he used to be.“Lord Randyll Tarly escaped, I heard. He may assemble the battered remnants of the defeated army and strike together with the outlaws.” Lord Varys adds, with a sick tone. Loathing the sight of blood, he had preferred to be off the council this time but Ned won’t hear it.“So, the only thing standing between King’s Landing and the Dragon is a bunch of outlaws?” He spits, red, angry sparks leaving his eyes.The oak-and-bronze doors open and Ser Preston Greenfield, the only member of the Queensguard who hadn’t been killed, enters swiftly, helmet hung in the crook of his arms. He walks to the King, trying not to look down as he did so but his eyes tremble a couple of times, predictably.“Your Grace, the Queen wants to be here. She wants to see—”“She can’t.” Ned forbids, flatly. “She is with child. This will only upset her.”“Yes, Your Grace.” Ser Preston bows, and leaves.Ned sighs, his hand comes up to comb a little roughly his beard and walks across the room to stand beneath a shy ray of sunlight, the only one which peers through the narrow windows, and which resembles a bit too much the shape of a snowflake on the floor. The North. He was from the North. Over and over again, his words come to his head, however each time it was becoming much easier to forget them. Could it be possible to forget he had been raised with the strong winter winds? Or with soldiers each and one of them seasoned in battle? He couldn’t forget, because he had learned to die like one of them a long time ago.“Varys…” He calls, without looking. “Go to my wife and see she doesn’t need anything.”The Spider smiles, grateful, bows and leaves promptly. Ned and Robert are alone in the Throne Room now.“Ned…”“I won’t leave King’s Landing.” He says, before Robert could continue.“Do you want to get yourself killed?” He demands, and his booming voice leaves ripples across the thick air. “Do you want to see Cat, Robb and your unborn child dead? We did everything we could but this is getting out of our hands and you know it. King’s Landing will fall, sooner or later.”“And what do you suggest I do, Robert?” Ned retorts, his eyes like steelpoints. “Leave the Realm to burn while I run and hide with my family?”“Not run. We’ll just wait for the opportunity to take it back, but we can’t do that if the King dies now.” Robert says, not too gently. “Stannis is waiting in Dragonstone. He doesn’t have the numbers to join the attack but he can smuggle us out from the city and take us somewhere safe.”“Somewhere safe…” Ned mumbles, ironically. “While others die for me.”It was the twisted song he’d ever heard. Cynically, he remembers when Robb was only a couple days old and how he had looked at his firstborn not with joy, but thinking of this day instead. And now, it was finally here. He felt the walls of his stomach collapsing while King’s Landing was slipping through his finger like sand, like something too out of his reach. He had Varys, he had Robert, he still had Jon Arryn, and a few vestiges of his army left. But he still, had lost everything. How many times would he have to hear the bells ringing till he knew the city was doomed? And how many Kings before him had thought the same while waiting in the Throne Room for the last hour?“We will get our revenge, Ned.” Robert declares, and reaches him from behind with his strong hand in his shoulder. “But now is not the moment.”The oak-and-bronze doors opened for the second time. This time, it wasn’t a knight but a Lord. A Northerner Lord, Robert thinks uneasily. But nothing like Ned. He was dressed in dark grey plate armor, with a fur-trimmed cloak, and the clasp that fastened it was wrought in the sigil of the flayed man of the Dreadfort, which he knew quite well. There was a faint odor of hippocras to the bold man, the line of torches across both galleries wane gloomily at the mercy of his heavy strides, which echo flatly along with the tolls of the bells outside. He stops a foot from Ned and the sound dies.“My King.” He says courteously. Robert decides his eyes are too small and unpredictable. Like the tides, they could either be politically correct or…“Lord Bolton.” Ned greets. “Thanks for coming to our aid when we need it the most.”“Of course, Your Grace.” Roose Bolton smiles at the implied compliment. “Your brother Benjen is doing an excellent job in the North. But our vows are also with our King. The Dreadfort men are marching through the Kingsroad as we speak to help you fight and repel these fanatics.”“Good. How many fighting men did you bring to the Capitol?”“The whole strength of the North is here. I don’t expect Tywin Lannister can do much with his two rabid dogs other than cage them in the kennels after our army reaches its full size.”“Yeah, everyone knows Tywin Lannister hardly keeps one or two things hidden under his sleeve.” Robert says, sarcastically. There was something odd about this man, and whenever he lays queer, maggot-white eyes on him, Robert knew there was more to him than what he lets out. And he had a weird obsession at looking at his hands, and check if they’re clean.“I have a force of eight thousand Gold Cloaks at least 18 miles from the capitol. With their last victory, the Targaryen captured at least fifty of our troops and drew a new frontline, expanding from west to east, at least twice the area of—”“My searjants will do whatever the King bids them to do.” Lord Bolton nods, loyally, but he blinks his eyes as he speaks like a man suffering from poor eyesight. “But, first, we will need to open the City Gates from the North so the reinforcements can march through the city and proceed to the rendezvous point.”Ned’s eyes are impassibly blank. “I ordered the Gates must remain closed.”“The army is too big for an alternative route. We will take a higher risk if the menace of our enemy catches us unprepared and dispersed. The quickest way is to open the Gate of the Gods, so the army, horses, infantry, pikemen, shields and baggage trains can intersect the city and make it to the southern trenches in no time. It will give us a day or two for preparations.”The King turns around to look at Robert, doubtfully. His friend has denial written all across his face. It was against every law of a besieged city in History, also, something the Crown had not prepared the civilians for. Even if his troops had been badly damaged on the southern front, King’s Landing still had endured its first taste of war. He was forced to sanction a protocol a few months ago, which summed up specific procedures, including prohibitions to light candles at night and late concurrence on the streets, blockades on all trade routes and reserved admissions into the Capitol, the latter led to the complete obstruction of the City Gates. Ned had expected this to last just for a couple of days before the results were so catastrophic. Now, after months of just bad news on the front, there was no closing his eyes. Chaos has not yet installed in the streets but without a doubt, it was just a matter of time. What would be his end now, the war raging outside or the rumors spread in the city?A low-rank officer rushes into the Hall, before Ned opens his mouth. Flushed, he says. “Your Grace.”“What is it?” Ned asks, urgently.“Viserys Targaryen arrived to the front. Our men were forced to yield two kilometers to the enemy.” He informs, shakily, and gulps hard. “They are three days from here.”Ned closes his eyes heavily and dismisses the young officer, while Robert shakes his head in disbelief. Roose Bolton only quirks an eyebrow but says nothing.He closes his hands into fists. A miracle, a savior. That’s what the city needs now. With a voice which sounds less and less like his own, Ned says finally, “Open the Gates.” “Guys, I think my father was killed.” Sam confesses bitterly, squatted in a far corner of the Red Keep’s training yard. His knees were cradling a copy of Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: They Unnatural Story by Septon Barth, which as of today he hasn’t still finished. His eyes would fall from time to time to read some short verses vaguely but then, he wasn’t even in the mood, so he resigns once again and comes back to the fight sullenly. “We’ll all be killed sooner or later.” Theon replies. Both his feet were clasped together in a bench, one eye on the fight and the other half-closed. Since none of them were permitted to leave the Red Keep, watching boringly a match of slashing swords was the only thing to do, that and also count how many ships they could see gliding in the distant waters of Blackwater’s Bay. Parrying a blow that was meant to his stomach, Jon turns to look at them oddly and then to the sky.“I wish it was a sword.” Sam continues, miserably, like he was reciting dreadful poetry. “My father was a warrior. All his life, he wished he was taken down by a sword. Do you think the Targaryens would bother themselves using one?”“I know I would now…” Theon confesses, sharply. “In your head.”Jon sighs and his hand comes up to wipe off a trail of sweat from his forehead. He didn’t know how many days has it been since the last time they saw the city, or heard people other than themselves. These few days trapped inside four walls felt more like years now, and when everybody wasn’t drowning in their own self-pits of misery, they would start to be at each other’s throats all the time. He winces suddenly, too distracted, when his wrist ends up to be the only part of his body facing a great hit from the disputant sword, and grits his teeth. Then, he steps back just in time to faint the next swing. Robb steps back too, panting, droplets come running down from his auburn curls to his cheeks and nose.Jon smiles. “Is this all you got, Stark?”“I hope not.” Greyjoy announces. “My whole money is on him.”“It’s just not fair, you know.” Robb complains, drained from the hit. His brow furrows impatiently. “We should be out there fighting. What use is practice here? The secret passages could—”“Are sealed.” Jon tells him. Sam slips a cry, knowing what could possibly signify if the Gold Cloaks had in fact blocked them. Jon crooks his neck to watch him. “Sam, why don’t you come here and practice too?” “I can’t.” He says, rapidly, and blushes. “I don’t want to have my face all bruised while I’m trapped here. I might meet my future wife while I grow old.”“I’m pretty sure the odds at getting a girl inside these four walls are pretty slight.” Theon points out. “Shame though. I’d gladly spend my last day on this planet with one, instead I’m stuck with you lot.” The Ironborn stretches his arms over his head, and throws an impish grin at his friends.“Do you really think this is the last day for us?” Sam asks, trying to untangle two pages from the book with a trembling hand. “Enough, Theon.” Robb snaps. “It’s not the last day. My father will beat them to pieces if they ever come close enough from our gates.”“But before, I imagine there’ll be plenty of dragons for all of us.” Sam shivers. “Like it did for my mine.”“You don’t know that, Sam.” Jon tells him, thrusting his practice sword into the ground. “He might have survived. Lord Tarly wouldn’t lose a fight that easily.”Sam only winces, and sinks again into his unyielding lessons, as if they’re his own and only armor plate. Jon watches him impatiently. His eyes rise up to the sky then, it would most likely rain any time soon. Banks of black clouds were piling up eastward, where Stannis’s ships use to dock, and he could almost feel the fat raindrops sliding across his face and hair already. Suddenly, he hears both direwolves snarl quietly, and he stiffens. “What’s wrong?” Robb asks him. Jon looks to him stoically, and then his eyes picks up the clear signal they have had public all this time, apparently.“Do you know him?” Jon gestures with his head, and Robb turns to look. And a pair of pale but cold eyes looks back.A boy, probably the same age as them, steps into the training yard, with a slight bow. He had long black hair, and he was wearing a black-leather jerkin that laced up the front, like them. Though, by the way he walks, was like presuming a strong sword arm, which probably wasn’t as common when being so young. The smile on his lips gives Jon the impression he was rather dissatisfied by the lack of blood in their fight. He fights back a shudder. “He’s Ramsay Bolton.” Robb says, voice missing affection. “He’s Lord Bolton’s bast—. Son.”Jon nods, and swallows. They had heard the story of the heir of the Dreadfort, Lord Bolton’s only trueborn son, and how he had inexplicably died, leaving Ramsay alone in the line of succession. Being his only child, Roose Bolton had been inclined to legitimize him after Domeric’s death in spite of the King’s reluctance. Nobody could deny there was still something odd. The boy from the North stops only a foot from them, and again, this kind of pointless, courteous still smile sets on his face.“My Prince.” He says, reaching out to hold Robb’s hand shortly. “It’s been so long.”“Ramsay.” Robb loosens his hand, and finds his fingers rather slick from the touch. “I didn’t know you would come to King’s Landing with your Father.”“I didn’t either. But I told him I wanted to be here too so I could see you again. Though, it saddens me it had to be under these circumstances.”“We know why Lord Bolton is here but you sure came a long way from the North only to see Robb. And it’s not like the Kingsroad is a pleasant ride out there.” Theon states, sarcastically.“You’re right.” Ramsay smiles again, apparently he couldn’t stop doing that. “We went through a lot of hardships in our way here, but my Father cares for the King, as was his vow. And, of course, the future King. I’m heir to the Dreadfort and should anything happen to my Father, he just wasn’t feeling safe leaving me alone in the North.”“You know Robb’s going to have a sister.” Jon says acidly, before he could stop himself. Robb and Ramsay both look at him at the same time. “You want to marry Sansa…” Robb says, blue eyes widen in shock, but apparently he didn’t know what else to add. “She’s… she’s not even born!” Ramsay just glares at Jon mutely, like he hadn’t seen him before. The previous kindness just misses his face entirely, and there’s something fierce and volatile sitting behind the white of his eyes. Something Jon could relate to a pack of wild dogs. But as soon as it is there, it fades away quickly and he’s nothing but a docile, well-behaved boy again. After a long silence, he breaks into a raucous laugh.“Engagement, I’d say. My Father had the idea. He wanted to speak with the King about this, of course after the war ends. And your sister… comes into this world.” He laughs innocently again. Looking at Jon between heavily lidded eyes, he smirks. “You’re good. Very, very good. Your concern for your family moves me. Even if you aren’t really a part of it, are you?”Jon gives a step forward but Robb stops him, with one hand.“Guys, don’t fight.”“And you must be Lord Tarly’s son.” Ramsay says again, nodding at Sam, but this time there’s sympathy, and a bit of regret, in his voice. “I must say… your Father fought bravely out there. I would’ve never believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”“You… you… saw him?” Was all that Sam managed to say. With a trembling chin, he grasps the other boy by his shoulders, like he was Heartsbane bursting out of leather-jerkin.“Yes. He was wounded… but still alive.” Ramsay nods, and if he was lying nothing in his eyes would said so.“Bullshit.” Theon says, harshly. “Lord Tarly had his troops in Bitterbridge when the fight started. How is it that you and your father saw them when you came from the North?”“Yes, the fight was in Bitterbridge but somehow he managed to retreat, I imagine that’s what happens when you’re seriously wounded. When I saw him, he was hiding in Loyal Man’s Inn, in Flea Bottom, with a few of his men, but most of the buildings and houses had been put to the torch and he was bleeding probably since the fighting was done.” Ramsay finishes, with a bittersweet tone. “If you still don’t believe me, I can tell you the banners I saw. A striding huntsman on green, did I get it right?”Sam clasps his mouth with his two hands, and Jon and Robb exchange a look. His friend from Horn Hill still had a chance of feeling hopeful for the life of his Father, but it was still shallow because he probably wouldn’t last long. If nobody went to his aid, it was as good as nothing.“If you excuse me, I must go find my father.” Ramsay says again. Bending at the waist in Robb’s direction, he adds ironically. “My Prince, I wish you good fortune in the wars to come.” And then he was gone. A draft of wind follows his departure, only interrupted by Sam’s choking sounds and Jon fisted hands.“Guys… I want to go find him.” Sam announces to them.“You can’t. I know how hard it is Sam, but we can’t leave the Castle. Not now.”“I- I don’t care, Jon. My father’s out there… If I don’t go, then—”“Then, you’ll get us all killed.” Theon replies, and kicks the clumps of mud in annoyance. “Besides, the gates are secured and all of the secret passages are sealed.”“Not all of them.” Robb tells them, and his blue gaze radiates a confident gleam. Jon joins his eyes with his.“No. I won’t do it, Robb. You know we promised to never use the sewers again. We smelled like shit for days.” He moans.“Please, Jon.” Sam says. “Flea Bottom is not far. We went there a million times already, nobody knows the streets like we do, and… It’s my father. What if I’m the only hope he has now?”“Sam’s right.” Robb seconds. “We can’t leave him out there.”Jon sighs, defeated. He knows very well if it were his Father out there, he’d probably do the same. His eyes shut hard, and he breathes deeply once or twice, feeling ridiculously weak. Nothing he was used to. The first raindrops start falling from the sky, pounding on the line of trebuchets ready to assault Targaryen forces, and then, on the mud where they were standing.“Are you with me?” Robb asks him.“Always.” Jon smiles. Theon had planned their breakout, using his brain and memory to draw a quick route to the famous inn, which all his friend had agreed to at the end. But when their knees felt the first slashes of cold air, they knew something was wrong. Soft cries ripple through their backs and Robb looks at Sam over his shoulder. Strangely, he had not complained during their escape, which was quite successful giving how strongly manned the Red Keep was, but the moment they'd stepped outside, Sam had launched himself all over Jon, and seems unable to let go of him. The brunette'd shoved him back a couple of times, but the younger boy still refuses to meet the crude city he had grown up in. And Robb couldn’t blame him.Each step away from the Red Keep, he could feel swollen veins tensing around his knuckles, legs refusing to go even if these streets were the same ones he had walked since a babe. Four shapes move agilely through the night, followed by two direwolves in their rear. Theon as usual being the fastest and Sam the slowest. Robb could see his friend’s curls bouncing each time they breached a deserted corner. The city looked like it was hunting them like a giant depredator. Sky and earth had merged together and Robb finds himself pushing faster so he wasn’t tempted to look. His eyes drift to their surroundings. The fewer buildings which had not collapsed over their own weight, were either abandoned or reduced to shelters with shutters closed, and doors barred. Something happened, he thinks. His whole body tenses in response, but it couldn't be true. How could it? His Father was the King and he would never allow this. Yet… He scrubs his eyes repeatedly and for a second he loses sight of Theon when he ran into the cobwebs of a dark alley.“Jon…” Robb turns around and details Jon’s grey eyes shining through the dark, breath just inches from his ear. Worriedly, he asks. “The Gates. Do you think—”Jon just shakes his head, and squeezes his shoulder, motioning him forward. Robb presses his lips together, and dips into an arm-width alley. Flea Bottom was a lowly district full of nighttime activities and pliant clientele, now the only thing close enough to civilization was a broken window’s pane, swinging from the first story of a building. Each time the wind picks up around them, the glass made the same noise that Sam’s teeth. And he could not help but think of it as a bad sign. A terrible thing, that seeps through his veins, and seems to grow larger with their temerity. My Father can’t lose, Robb repeats again, and again. But as his feet surrender to ankle-deep holes into the mud, looking for the safer way to cross which would also help his friends on the back, he looks back on his days in the Red Keep. ‘They were keeping this from us.’ He never felt more like a brat now.He looks over his shoulder to Jon, and remembers his objections this afternoon in the training yard. Since losing both his parents, Jon was more reserved and methodic than other children at his age, he didn’t give in too much into trust to an outsider. But the day Robb’s Father sat with him to explain everything about his family, and why Viserys Targaryen was after the Throne, he became even more skeptical. It was a constant humiliation to see himself as a substance of a family seduced by power. But Robb could never look at him like that, because Jon was a part of him. Two halves of the same being. And he never gave a fuck who Jon’s grandsire was really. Yet, now, this night, he was afraid it backfired on him. He forced his cousin out of the Red Keep when Targaryen’s invasion was in full swing. And if they lay their hands on Jon… We’re going for Sam’s Father and then, we’re out of here. Robb thinks, running a hand through his mud-streaked curls. He will never forgive himself if Viserys does something to Jon because of him.“This is a little nicer than Clegane’s Keep, isn’t it?” He says, trying to lift the mood.It works, because for a fleeting moment Jon smiles. Knowing he can't trust his eyes, Robb braces himself with one hand against the wall, and breathes in sharply, trudging slowly across the alley. “Sam, be quiet." Jon says, annoyed. "You were the one who wanted to come here, remember?”“I… I know.” Sam was the last one, but the direwolves were clearing the way for him. Yet, alone as they were, it seems like they were being watched by a thousand eyes in the dark. “I can’t see anything, Jon.”“Hold on. We’re almost there.”And luckily, it proved true when the ominous walls around them surrender to a slash of faint moonlight at the end. Robb leaps over a crater and uses both hands to pull himself out. The night air rushes to his lungs again, and he sees himself face to face with a long, cavernous street, a set of regular buildings at either side but just as abandoned as the last ones they’d seen. Theon squatts against the wall and waves his hand to his friends.“Told you it was the quickest way.” He smirks. Robb squatts next to him, while Sam and Jon follow closely.“You could have waited for us.” Jon tells him.“How do you know the inn is here?” Robb asks.Theon just points his index finger at an empty, ill-looking place. It was barely visible from their distance, the lower story was of grey stone, but there was a huge hole where supposedly the roof had been, probably burnt off recently. Yet, it was hardly Theon’s suggestion. There, on the street, the smell combined with that of a corpse, a soldier lying on his back, as it fought an invisible enemy, with the banner of his House between lifeless arms. The scent of blood crawls to them, both direwolves grunt at the fissure, and it takes everything from Jon to tilt his head to Sam’s ear. “Sam, can you recognize the banners from here?” The boy flinches, trying to remember how to use his mouth for other than cry.“The huntsman… That’s… That’s my father’s…”“He’s inside then…” Theon states. He was the one who didn’t believe a single word from the Bolton guy, but now, he sounds convinced enough. “Let’s go.”Four shapes move across the scorched street, but soon it was only Theon and Robb flanking the principal door. Jon had to make sure no one was following them, and also dealing with Sam who refuses to move. Theon just takes the opportunity to lie back on the wall, and crosses his arms around his chest. “So, your brother-in-law wasn’t so mistaken after all.”“Don’t call him like that.” Robb growls. “I still can’t believe you’re marrying your sister to him. I’m way much better match than Ramsay Bolton.” Theon ventures, smiling confidently. “And you know I would protect her.”“I’m not marrying her to anyone. I’m not a fucking septon.”“Would you stop talking already?” Jon tells them, sharply. He joins both his friends, taking Sam by the hem of his clothes. But when he pushes the door open, rusted hinges creaking after the endeavor, Robb just grips his arm with conviction.“Jon,” He says, firmly. “I’ll go first.” Jon swallows hard and stares back at Robb. He should know his cousin would claim the lead this time, and nods reluctantly.Robb heads first, Jon goes after him, and Theon fast on their heels with the two direwolves. The color of a merciless night engulfs them, and four pair of eyes take a moment to watch furniture turned upside down, tables and chair tangled, scattered like twisted rugs on the floor, and broken dishes, and silverware, with still some pieces of rotten fish and stains of wine in the slate floor. Jon is sure there’s nothing else further than Robb’s shoulders, his eyes were probably hurting trying to accommodate to the thick dark mantle in his wake, but Robb slides to the side, and the wall shifts into a staircase. His unshakable calm deserved an altar. Sam’s fist was clutching Jon’s tunic so hard he could almost feel his blood pressure rising. He shoves him back, and leaps into the steps. If Sam’s Father was here and wounded, he’d probably be in one of the guestrooms, upstairs. But he didn’t look forward to go further. When they reached the top, Robb spins around and his blue eyes gleam in darker hues through the smoky air. “We should split up.” He says. The passage way was long, and hollow, and out of all the ideas they could come up with now, this one was the least worst.“I’ll go with Sam… and you with Theon.” Jon replies, softly, and Robb nods, knowing it was better if each group had a direwolf. After an hour of looking for Sam’s Father, Jon feels frustrated. They'd searched for at least eleven guestrooms, each and one of them in several states of chaos, and the door of the last one just refused to yield, no matter how many attempts followed to open it. There were musty straw-stuffed mattress, which screamed nobody ever slept there. Was Ramsay Bolton only playing with them from the beginning? Jon hits his head in fury. Next to him, Sam’s face was melting into disappointment.“My father’s not here, right? Maybe we shouldn’t have come.” Jon just looks at him, without knowing what to say. He opens his mouth but suddenly, Ghost’s fur bristles and his eyes rage with violent red, and Jon’s face was drained from color. They weren’t alone. Strong footsteps pound viciously on the wooden floorboard, and darkness surrenders to a more dull grey, a human shape as tall and broad as a door. A knight who reeks of blood and flesh, but not as much as his murderous shield, a red dragon with three heads. We are so stupid, Jon thinks. We’d run just into a trap. For the first time in the night, he didn’t hear Sam’s screaming. He didn’t even hear his own rough breaths, thrashing with the swirls of ash. He saw feral red blocking his way, and the dragons so close their tongues of fire could almost lick his cheekbones, but it was the sword which exiled forever the light of the world. He remembers a voiceless lament. He remembers the sound of bones cracking, and then an eternal fall to the pits of devastation. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Jon! Jon! Please, wake up!”Jon opens his eyes slowly. His whole body aches. It took him a few seconds to chase the last images on his mind while cradling his head weakly. The first thing he sees is the dimmed flight of steps against the wall, and an empty room as well, quiet and dark. The strangeness of it doesn’t linger for too long, something snaps on his mind, and then, he’s seeing his own small body falling from the first floor, and the way it had hit the floor with a loud thud. It could’ve been worse, he knows, but something’d sprung from the shadows that last, final moment and then… “Ghost…” He winces. And coughs. The pain on his left arm flares and he inhales sharply. He couldn’t believe what they had done, how stupid they were to come here in the first place. His face feels tickles then, and somehow the pain starts to fade, it’s bearable now. A weak smile forms on his chapped lips, as Ghost licks his wounds, eyes and nose, his fur cradling Jon’s head. There, Jon feels strong enough to speak, but a painful scream stabs his eardrums and his eyes then flash widely open, absorbing, awakening. “Robb!” He yells.His cousin was only inches from him, hovering over him in a defensive stance and both arms upraised over his head to block a slashing sword, too willing to cut him in two. His only weapon was a dented pole, and he wrestles fiercely… but he was ten, and the man before him a Targaryen soldier, full armored and impossibly well-balanced. Grey Wind was the only thing avoiding Robb’s fate, as his fangs were buried in the man’s heel, tearing and shredding, plucking some curses from his raspy throat. Jon only has time to collect one last breath, he leaps from the floor quickly and kicks the crook of the man’s neck and shoulder with all the force he had left, shoving him backwards.“Come on!” He urges Robb, taking his hand to pull him away hurriedly. Both direwolves follow.They smash the splintered door jointly and immediately collapse onto the street. Jon’s breath hitches. He looks urgently at Robb, while the redhead clutches the earth between his fingers and struggles to breathe. “Sam… and… and Theon…”“Sam… escaped.” Robb answers. “He jumped out the window. Theon… I… don’t know… He-he disappeared.”Jon swallows around a lump in his throat, and tilts his head back. The sky was black above them. The stars were gone, and cold, icy gusts of wind blow by them.“It was a trap.” Robb says again, eyes bright in anger.“I know…” Jon hisses, a bit harshly. “I’m sorry…”“We need to go back to the Red Keep, Jon. If they’re still alive, I’m sure they’d do the same.”Before the brunette could agree, the road starts shaking underneath them. The din of battle thickens with each second, crescendo distant, but corporeal enough to shake pebbles and trails of rubble half-buried on the ground. A booming sound, which Jon recalls from his younger self’s imagination when studying King’s Landing sieges. Crests of winking helmets peer on the distance, along with sharp steelpoints and now a black and red sunset, too terrifying and final, spills millions and millions Targaryen’s banners, so many not even a far-eye could ever see their end. The edge of the world was now theirs. Knives cut deep into Jon’s skin, as the blood on his veins freezes, and he thinks in Sam, in Theon. In every fucking person in this world who could ever believe in a savior now, in glory, in eternal richness.The sickness never really leaves his face, but there was hardly time to think now.The wind, the screams, the time are the only messengers now, and tell him to run, run as fast as he can and never looks back. Robb appears to be thinking the same, as his hand reaches for his, and both share a look of unspoken fear and adrenaline, the same one they would if one of their many errantries would end in a precipice. They join their hands as the end of the world surrounds them. With one last look, both start to run. Ghost and Grey Wind at their heels. Screams of terror, shattered glass, piles of dead villagers, men and women alike.When they left the Red Keep, the world was made of nothing but gurgling, shrill croaks, mankind just an illusion, and the further they went, it grew worse and worse. Everyone died, and we are alone, Jon remembers thinking. Now, he knew just how wrong he had been. The shock resulting in paralysis on his legs, and knees. The streets were suffocated with the vast majority of King’s Landing population, mostly commoners, lowborns, brigands, and beggars from Flea Bottom in a state of total chaos. Everyone who could actually use their hands still was burning their own belongings before they fall into enemy’s hands. As a result, a large number of fire-pits roar from the earth, and chase through the night with whips of fire any desperate enough to run past it. A man knocks Jon off his feet with his clubfoot as he joins the crowd swarming to the Great Septon of Baelor, but thanks to his tight grip on Robb’s hand he finds his balance. Robb just ducks underneath a great wall of begging brothers, and pulls Jon with him, using his free arm to carve a way. It was hard to know where they were going now, which way was north or south. The harder they press forward, the longer the distance was, and the tides of torches flash in unison across the tumultuous district.“Robb!” He yells hoarsely. His throat resists to speak, vocal chords just in the verge to split. “You’re going the wrong way!”It wasn’t necessarily true. This was the route Theon had chosen a while back, a cordon of passages and shortcuts to avoid Pisswater Bend. Since Grey Wind took the lead it was only instinct, yet Jon was afraid things now were quite different than they were before. And when Robb digs his heels into the ground he sees the rightness of that statement. Half a mile of road was now gone and both look away at the same time, the image of people dead or agonizing still stinging their eyes. The influx of people wanes here, and Grey Wind buries his snout into a dead Gold Cloak’s hair, sniffing at it. Jon only breathes hard, the air reeks of blood and death.“This cannot be true…” The redhead says, in a start. They couldn’t get through. Or at least not like they had originally planned on.Ghost growls savagely as Jon brings his lip in with his teeth, working on a quick route to Aegon’s High Hill with his eyes. Twin lights from neighboring torches dance deep into his obscured pupils as he stares at Shadowblack Lane. Sighing, he knows there isn’t other way, even if it means running straight into the Red Keep’s Gatehouse. The Great Septon of Baelor is probably ten times worse than this, if that level of catastrophe can possibly exist. What happened on the frontlines? What happened on the City Gates? Robb turns to look at him, his blue eyes blaze in agreement. His hand comes up to wipe out ash motes attached to his red-rimmed eyes, he just breathes the rest in, and clasps his free hand with Jon’s again.“Shadowblack Lane, is it?” He says, sternly. But flashes a smile at Jon all the same. “My parents are going to kill me.”Nothing but a desperate choking sound leaves Jon’s body. ‘How can you say something like that?’ He thinks, hopelessly. ‘Why are you still trying to cheer me up even after…?’ Instead, Jon just squeezes his hand, and pulls him through a dark alley. Shrieks grow louder and louder, until Jon is sure he can still hear them even if the fire wanes, and the dream dissolves. Well, what’s the point of all this? He thinks, darkly, as they walk side by side. His Father died, His mother too, and… No, Jon denies quickly. And looks down where their hands were joined. ‘I must not think like that. Once we get to the Red Keep, everything will be fine.’ As he brings his eyes up, and his senses become assailed with the darkest nightmare of all, his lips part slightly.“Ghost…” He says, barely over a whisper. “Run.” He feels light-headed, like a sailor in open sea. Two miles of road had just turned into the longest of his life, a plank where a sinner finds his way to death in the deep, perilous ocean below, and his fingers start to feel numb where Jon’s holding his hand. Like a line of recluses, the city’s population, Jon and himself included, march through the first Gold Cloak’s barracks, but as Robb casts a glance at both flanks, he squarely concludes there aren’t enough men. His blue eyes align with the tallest crevices of the Traitor’s Walk, the only part actually visible from here, aside from the White Sword Tower, and he knows the archers’ platoons are severely outmanned.‘I bet things are not any better on the other side.’ Robb thinks gloomily, and wrinkles his nose when a family walks past them with a hog. Networks of streets and shortcuts pour into Shadowblack Lane as the evacuation protocol brims in its highest phase, and he feels like a spore swimming in an ocean of thousands of people. He remembers the sight of the Targaryen’s soldier who attacked Jon at the inn, and can’t help but feel something odd. Something they probably weren’t telling them. No wall can keep you safe, Robb remembers his Father’s words. A wall is only as strong as the men who defend it. His Aunt Lyanna Stark had died inside the Red Keep the night she brought Jon into their lives. And Robb knew many Gold Cloaks which yesterday were alive, today maybe they no longer are. ‘When I am King, this will never happen. I will protect them. I will protect—’ And then he’s glancing down both his hand and Jon’s, entwined together.“That’s Ser Guncer Sunglass.” Jon says, absently, eyeing the Gold Cloak on his left who is reprimanding an old peasant with a loaded wagon who attempts to seek shelter inside the castle. “Do you think we should tell him?”Robb swallows, watching the long column gliding to the Red Keep’s western walls. At this rate, he’ll probably meet his parents on the morrow. Yet annoyance crosses his face, since he’d always hated special treatment. “You’re so cold.” He says instead, feeling his cousin’s icy fingers through their grasp. Jon shrugs.“I probably deserve it. It’s my family the one who’s--”“Stop saying that, Jon!” Robb snaps, furiously. “You have nothing to do with these people.” He wanted to say something else but his voice died when Grey Wind emerged again, padding towards him, something hanging from his mouth. Robb bends next to him curiously and snatches it at once. “What’s th—” A sudden choke takes his words, because it was… a shred of skin. Human skin. It’s Jon’s turn to look repulsed, yet all Robb manages to deduce from this is a single word. “Bolton.”“Down! Everyone!” Screams happen one after the other, and the world bows to a blinding light, which turns night into day. A withering barrage of arrow fire fills the night sky and descends, like vultures expecting their fill of doomed men. The castle’s defenses answer back six hundred feet above them, and the flat sound of catapults joins in as a dreadful chorus. The evacuation turns into a bloodshed. Rivers of people break formation while running, shrieking, and collapsing, and Robb sees detachments with Bolton’s shields launching a large-scale blockade on their backs. There was no way out. “Ghost!” Jon yells, at the top of his lungs. An arrowhead misses his head for an inch, but he’s too occupied keeping an eye on his fast direwolf, running on the van. “Down! Get down!” He yells. And the direwolf slides underneath a raging human barricade. Jon and Robb aren’t so lucky though, and both collapse right into it.If this is a dream… Jon thinks. But no. This is not a dream. This is grotesquely real. Like a ragdoll in a peninsula of swarming bodies and burning barrels, he fights, and shoulders, and gasps for air, both for him and Robb but the bits of nightly sky were there and then there weren’t. Sometimes, they wouldn’t come back. And the more he claws for oxygen, the deeper he sinks limbless until he doesn’t feel his legs. Something pulls him up then, ashore, to an isle of warm air, and he breathes in for the first time while his arms naturally cling to a heavy furry neck. Grey Wind. The direwolf speeds up, strong and relentless, taking Jon and Robb on each side of his massive body. He carves a path ductilely between a sea of knees and legs until he plucks out with both boys on his back.“Jon!” He hears Robb’s voice. “Are you okay?”He nods, weakly, wondering if he still had a human form. He feels like gum, now. He turns to look at Robb… but something sprang over his shoulder and met his eyes first. The three-yellow-dogs sigil in its breastplate looks hungry for young blood, still not as much as the steelpoint of its monstrous spear which narrows their way, as it did with several other victims in its trail of red. His eyes are impossibly wide. Robb still has no idea his back was about to be hacked in half so when the stars above were blocked by a sharp edge, Jon leaps in front of him with gritted teeth. Abstracts words ring in his ear, something he vaguely collects from the dying masses, or the dragons’ soldiers… but the voice of a young general, blonde and cruel, talks to him in a hall of white… His blood was his… That’s why they could hear each other, through oceans and lands, through fire and smoke.“I want what was promised… Only what was promised… I’m here… to fulfill my wish. If someone should ever seat in my throne and call himself King, then this is my answer. No one shall see the sun ever again. King’s Landing will kneel before its true King… a King with dragon blood in his veins.”Direwolves banners were burning underneath him in piles of smoke. And more keep raining from the sky, like grey snowflakes in a site of rest. But no, that wasn’t true. Nothing is lost, still. Not while his hands burn, and his eyes snap open widely, and he snatches a splintered shield from a dead Gold Cloak, parrying the blow from the spearman. He breathes in, body shaken from the effort, and clings to the piece of wood with his life while Robb’s eyes gleam in shock. Then, his hands join his own and both boys were committed to a ferocious hand-to-hand with a man thrice their size. Jon slips a cry when jaws begin to close around them, their wills... never yielding… wouldn’t be enough now… A dull scream erupts from the knight’s throat when a white beast engulfs plate and flesh, cutting him like a slice of cheese. Jon sees Ghost reducing him between his eyelashes, but his eyes were closing. The rest of his small body is seized by coughs from nebulas of ash and smoke and he loses his balance, feeling the earth beneath him as hot as the Sun.“Here.” Robb rips a piece of his tunic apart, and cleans the streaks of grime and dust from his heated cheeks. “Thanks.” Jon watches him, and then detracts his eyes at the bay of bodies. Women were doing the same thing Robb did with their screaming children, keeping their faces clean as fire descends on them. A family of peasants with carts and livestock sidesteps them, and Jon catches their conversation, accidentally.“First cavalry of the Stark army. Fifteen thousand men slain on the mountain pass near Rosby. In two days, Tywin Lannister’s van crushed House Arryn’s forces and stationed on the northern flank. Viserys joined him from the south. The encirclement was completed this morning when the lasts Gold Cloaks’s strongpoints failed.”Jon swallows, his knees buckling. The Crown had fallen. The enemy is at their gates and the whole city is screaming that into their faces. Would it make a difference if the make it to the Red Keep? Would it prolong their lives a little longer? Would his Uncle and Aunt still be alive? And what if they find only murdered bodies when they get there? He tries to hold up his tears as best as he can and yet he feels salt on his palatal, knowing how much he had seen without seeing, how much he had heard without hearing.“Robb, it’s no use.” He tells his cousin, pushing him away. “Look around. How do we know the Red Keep is no worse than this? How do we know our families— aren’t dead by now?”“We can’t give up now.” Robb says sternly, the blue in his eyes seem like rare liquid in a world where everything burns forever. “I know they are alive. Just— don’t give up, okay? The Red Keep is not so far, now. Just a little more and we’ll be safe, I promise.”He grabs his hand and seeks his eyes. How can you be so optimistic? Jon wants to ask. Yet, he clenches his jaw and squeezes his hand back. “The direwolves will take us on their back.” Grey Wind is strong and fast as he cuts through the night like a flying arrow, taking Robb only on his back. Closing in at their heels, Jon and Ghost run just a smidge below their speed, the city blurring at their sides until faces and fire can no longer be seen, noises also can’t be heard over the demanding velocity.Soon, The Red Keep is there and is all Jon could see above Ghost’s head. He recognizes the seven huge drum-towers, the iron ramparts, the grim Barbican, and it sends a brief feeling of widespread relief over his body. He digs his fingers into the wolf’s fur, and Ghost reaches his brother in speed with his wordless command. Corpses laid out on the vicinity of the castle were already drawing crows by the time the boys stop right at the sight of the gates. The portcullis was up and the drawbridge was down, and for the first time in the night, Jon hears Robb’s muted scream while Grey Wind bends to let him down. There was no one else but them now, only two boys and their wolves. Only them. Maybe the fighting was over. Maybe the occupiers had killed everyone.Robb draws his eyes to the corpses lining the path. Ser Gared Lonmouth, Ser Preston Greenfield, Ser Jacelyn Bywater. None of them returned the salute to the Little King, as they always did. Their bodies were lying to either side of the bridge, their heads in declination to watch the furthest peaks of Maegor’s Holdfast, spears which in their lightless sanctuary still build the last hope for the royal family against the Targaryens.“They died protecting the gate…” Robb whispers. With one hand on the scruff of the wolf's neck, he kneels next to his Father’s men, and bites in a sob.“They did…” Jon follows, hesitantly. At least, they died together, he muses as he watches their bodies. Just like…He shakes his head. Robb was still knelt and as Jon studies the distance. He sees the giant bronze gates calling for them from the other side, the difference between life and death, and he knows they have no time to spare. He approaches Robb from behind and tugs on his shoulder.“Come on, Robb… We have to—” He never finishes the sentence.The collar of his tunic looks funny, too funny, and when he cranes his neck he does not find his back but an arrow instead, bursting out from his clothes. A web of blood was building up between his shoulder blades, as his eyesight starts to fail, just as much as to think he was sinking in the green moldy water below. He is light as a feather, and the lack balance of colors didn’t stop his eyes from detailing for the last time the fat red drops forming on the bridge. Robb was holding his upper body, and shouting, desperate and crying, full of terror, yet he hears none of it. He hears nothing. Everything was black now. Grey eyes fight to open up for the second time in the day as pain builds up like a spear on his back. Just like the last time, memories are intrusive in his still confused mind, yet unlike the previous time, now he finds himself limp against a wall, in a poor-lit room. His eyes readjust, stranger to everything he sees around. For a moment he panics, wondering if he had died at the gates of the Red Keep, next to the last members of the Kingsguard. But his brain works fast and denies this possibility when the essence of old books and scented candles invade his nostrils. His vision is packed with a faint glow from two torches burning in the sconces, under a cloak of spiderwebs and Jon has to crane his neck to see the rafters at the end of hundreds of bookshelves. “Maester Pycelle’s library…” There’re beads of sweat forming in his brow, and he swears the effort is making sounds he didn’t fathom, yet then he realizes it’s the squeaking of rats only.“Jon…”Robb was reaching immediately at his side, landing on his knees as he sees the brunette awaken. There’re trails of dry tears in his cheeks. His jerkin is gone and it’s seems he had torn all his clothes apart in the attempt to produce bandages for him. With the record of vandalism and thieving they had sustained, the risk of being killed was something that both of them had learned to live with over the years. Yet, now, seeing his face behind all that misery, Jon was sure this was the first time Robb had ever truly felt fear in its true form. “Hey...” He whispers. His temperature was high, yet he knows the redhead had lessened the fever with some of Maester Pycelle’s poultices as he recalls the flavor. Now, he understands why there’re in the library.“You stupid arse! I thought you– you… Gods, don’t ever scare me like that again.” Robb says, fisting his hands. Both of them are blistered and Jon glimpses the giant library’s doors, barred for the first time. Robb must’ve used all his strength to do that. “I thought you’d left me back there.”“I… I took an… arrow, didn’t I?” He mutters, kind of questionably. He doesn’t remember, he feels it but still… the seconds before it happened are behind a cloud of smoke now.“You did.” Robb nods. Both small hands come up to check on the corset of bandages he personally had wrapped around the brunette’s chest and Jon winces again. “But you’re going to be fine. The muscle is only damaged.”“You— stitched me?” His grey eyes open like vivid onyx and something inside of him warms at the thought of his cousin’s deed. He was ten years old and performed an extremely difficult procedure, all while pushing aside the nerves and inexperience that implies for a little boy.“I had to.” He confesses, in a tight voice. “I– I don’t know what came over me. I just saw you… falling before me, and the blood— Ghost helped me to carry you into the castle, I cried for anyone to help me but there was no one. I searched and searched, everything was so dark… You were still bleeding and I remembered Maester Pycelle used to keep all his salves, and balms here. Burning the needle was simple, even taking the arrow from your right shoulder was too… but, when I started stitching I–…”“Shh, it’s alright.” He says, as his own eyes begin to water. He embraces Robb with his good arm, red curls hiding in the crook of his neck. “You saved my life. You will be one hell of a big brother, do you know that?”“The castle is empty, Jon.” Robb says frustrated. “My parents are not here. No one is… The cooks are dead in the kitchens, the handmaidens in the corridors, and Grey Wind found Uncle Jon’s guardsmen but only their fingers. The rest are hanged on the iron spikes at the top of the Gatehouse. You were right, about everything…”“How did they even do it?” Jon asks, shifting his body against the wall. As he straightens, he catches the vision of Grey Wind and Ghost at either side of the oaken door, both tired as they were but still alert to every vibration. “There’s no way a Targaryen army could surpass the archer’s platoons on the parapets above. Or the Kingsguard.”“That’s the thing.” Robb sighs. “The attack didn’t come just from the outside. Someone ordered to open the gates. My Father trusted Lord Bolton to defend the city… and he betrayed him. If he had only done what was requested of him –”“There’s no way Uncle Ned could’ve known that. Lord Bolton was one of the most fearsome generals in the North and he was clearly the best option to have here in the Capitol. No one would’ve seen treason coming from him, or that prickhead of a son, Ramsay.”“You did.” Robb says, blamefully. “You told me not to trust Ramsay Bolton from the beginning and I decided to go after Sam’s Father anyway. I was such a fool.”“It wasn’t your fault, Robb. I thought Sam’s Father was alive too, that’s why I didn’t oppose on the first place.” Jon says gently. “If something had happened to you, because of me…” Robb begins, eyes slack on the floor. “Nothing happened.” Jon reassures, and brings his chin up with his fingers. “And besides, we’ve been through worse than this in the past. Let’s not waste time talking about that. Did someone follow us here?”“No.” He shakes his head, eyeing the other’s torso with bone-deep concern. He produces a small jar with milk of the poppy and hands it to Jon rapidly. “Viserys stormed the city from the King’s Gate with his army. The one who hit you was in the infantry second unit, and most of them climbed over the battlements but it was only a small party. I believe Viserys and Lord Bolton met in the Great Hall, and now are with the Iron Throne.”Jon drinks and the liquid slides down his throat like fire. Did they rally a force so massive to overcome the King’s city army? He wonders if at this rate, any of the other Houses from the Crownlands would come to their aid, but doesn’t seem likely. The Stokeworth were the only ones near enough, yet he knows the old Lady Tanda would keep her soldiers near her Keep rather than defending King’s Landing, if they hadn’t been killed first, that is. It would probably take them the whole night to sack every tower in the Red Keep, still none of them knew the secret passages as well as Robb and he did. There was a slight chance to escape… too slight, and now he had taken an arrow wound on his right shoulder.“Robb…” He says, his voice shaky. “Listen to me. You need to get out of here.”His cousin’s eyes widen and he knocks a candle stub from the floor when he twists to face him. Jon holds the weight of his gaze with solemnity.“Are you crazy?” He demands, raising his voice. “I’m not going to leave you.”“They are after you! Don’t you understand?” Jon yells. “You are the Crown Prince to the Seven Kingdoms. They will kill you if they find you here. I can’t move, I’m not strong enough to run and I will only slow you down if we try to escape. Please, understand…”“I’d rather die than going anywhere without you. You can say whatever you want, but I won’t leave this room, not until you’re better so we both can.”“Why do you always have to be so stubborn? This is not a game…”“I know this is not a game, Jon!” Robb yells, and his eyes shout in the dark. Shards of ice shatter inside his irises, as he trembles, and rants. “I was the one who saw you lying out there, bleeding and I couldn’t– You’re the only thing that I have, I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, so stop talking like it’s the end of the world. We promised, remember? We promised to stay by each other’s side no matter what happens.” Robb catches his hand, and place it on his wet cheek. Pleading, crying. “This is not the end. Even if we are the last two people here, in this place, I won’t ever believe that because we are still together. And I won’t let anyone change that.”The shock was not only because of the words, but for his shining eyes, his damp curls, his clammy fingers, his wet face, and Jon pulls him into an embrace again, his wound stirs behind him but he doesn’t care. He’s scared, he had been pushing that understatement back for too long, knowing with everything that’s going on, the world demands a man and not a child now, but this is Robb telling him it’s okay to be afraid. It’s okay, because it’s not all that’s there for them. There’s still so more, so much more.“I’m sorry.” He whispers against red curls. “I’m just…worried. We can spend the whole night here, but the food is going to run short at some point.”“Let’s try to get some rest now. Grey Wind and Ghost will take the first watch, and we will worry about that later.”Both direwolves slide into the floor, Ghost’s head comes to rest on his paws and Grey Wind curls at the top of his brother’s body, eyes slack on the door. Robb makes an attempt to rekindle the fire from the candles but Jon stops him, and explains the fire is only going to give them away. With a sigh, Robb let the candles smoke, before darkness engulfs both of them. Throwing a cloak over Jon and himself, Robb curls on his left side and Jon’s head comes to rest on top of him. Their breaths mingle for a second, before Jon feels exhaustion claiming his body and his eyes fell shut. “Robb… Robb. Wake up.”His cousin stirs beside him, red and sleepy eyes meet his own for a second before they are completely open. His first thought is that something is wrong with Jon’s injury, yet after the second change of bandages the brunette has not complained so, it must be something else. The answer comes suddenly when a faint knock on the door startles both of them, and Robb doesn’t know which of their hearts beat more frantically. Ghost and Grey Wind are immediately up, fur bristling but no sound leaves their tight jaws. Robb swallows, and his eyes go from the door to Jon’s, which confirm his suppositions.“Someone is out there.” Jon whispers. Robb closes his eyes for a second, and feels blood running underneath his fingernails like an animal caught in a net.The door creaks again, and their stomachs twist knowing this is no illution. Regrettably, darkness speaks no other language and neither of them can see past the gap of light but there’s no way to deny the footsteps behind it and a ragged breath of a man. Robb sneaks away from Jon and reaches for a short handknife at the other end, hoping he still can use it properly even with all the nerves building up inside of him. His severe look falls on Grey Wind and a command appears, hoping the direwolf can keep quiet as much as he can. But when the doorknob vibrates, Grey Wind growls and his gut sinks. They were caught.“Robb…” He hears from the other side and his heart jumps. Before Jon can stop him, Robb is on his feet and runs to the door, and unlocks it. A grandfatherly face welcomes him, and now he knows he had never felt this relieved when he throws himself into Barristan Selmy’s arms. The old knight holds him for a moment, and then pulls back, clearly as much surprised to see them alive as both boys to see him.“Ser Barristan…” Jon coughs from Robb’s back, while the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard studies them both.“I didn’t believe it when I heard it. One of the girls from the kitchens saw light in the Maester’s chambers and told me.” He explains briefly. “We thought you were both dead.”“We thought the same of you.” Robb replies. “And my parents? Are they okay?”“Yes, but there’s no time to explain. Stannis’s fleet is waiting in Blackwater’s Bay to take us to Dragonstone, so we must hurry before—”“Jon is wounded.” Robb points his index finger to his cousin, who still is motionless against the wall. “He can’t walk.”There are beads of sweat nestling in Jon’s brow when Ser Barristan bends next to him and picks him up. He winces but still clutches to the old knight, biting his tongue to stop himself from screaming. Robb gives him a squeeze for support and leads the party out of the room, with Grey Wind at the head. At this point, Jon is only half aware of the passage of time and space, and all he can do is watch the succession of ribbed vaults on the ceiling while he feels Ghost’s tail tickling one of his legs. He feels more vulnerable than ever when they start descending a spiral staircase.Every now and then, Ser Barristan would tap Robb’s shoulder to indicate caution. They would freeze against the cracked, stone walls for the longest seconds in his life, waiting for whatever noise or voice to die away before resuming again. He blinks when he eyes the collection of spiderwebs cloaking his arms and hair, knowing they had made it into a passage which had not been used in a long time. It was so cramped walls were actually shrinking and shrinking with each step they take, almost to twist the laws of nature. The air was running short, but his eyes were glassy with humidity. It was everywhere now.When a jump happened, and water began to run against the bearded man’s waistline, then he is hit in realization. They’re in the sewers.“Robb, stay close.” The old knight advices.Waterfalls were creating a deafening sound as their shapes were claimed by a black foamy fluid, too familiar for both boys. Jon’s legs are completely submerged now, though he wouldn’t mind to try a swim to the drainpipe as he feels like a burden for Ser Barristan. The Lord Commander wrestles between walking and swimming at this point, while the wolves dip wholly under the surface, furs sodden and dripping. A curse happened from Robb’s throat somewhere on the front and he hears the iron bars rattling wildly under his fists.Ser Barristan joins him, but their combined effort is fruitless, and in one last attempt, Robb kicks the bars in frustration.“We can’t get through.” He snarls, while small swirls of water emerge and crash against their legs. Robb throws a glare towards the wolves. “Quit it, will you? I can’t think with all the noise you’re making.”“The wolves didn’t do it.” Jon warns weakly. “Someone’s coming…”Only then, the three of them realize the sounds were actually heavy footfalls splashing in the furthest curve. Five to ten men, most likely. Ser Barristan taps his sword’s hilt under Jon’s body, while Robb shares a panicked look with his cousin. They were with the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms, they recall, but also, in a dead end.“Grey Wind…” Robb says firmly, and the biggest direwolf approaches with a head butt to his knees. “See those bars? You need to open them. I know you can do it, for me… Ghost, help him… Please.”Grey Wind whines, but immediately commits to the task. He throws his head back with a snarl and attacks the iron bars ferociously. His white brother joins him, spears twisting under both powerful bites until they finally break. Jon slips a relieved sigh and braces himself as Ser Barristan follows Robb into the open hole. King’s Landing is falling further and further behind them. His weary eyes register the last bits of the city on the west before a giant hillside engulfs it wholly, probably the same last slope which opens on the eastside to the port. It’s not over, Jon chants to himself. Ser Barristan had picked an old fishermen track, but this site was one of the most dangerous of the Capitol, no matter if Stannis’s fleet was near to assist them. And he knows the men in the sewers were in pursuit now. If it’s Gregor Clegane… He thinks, in horror. Clegane is a hunter, and he won’t spare the lives of an old man and two children. He closes his eyes, wishing for a miracle and wishing for the grass to slip into sea as soon as possible.“Run! Robb!” yells Ser Barristan, suddenly. “Don’t look back!” The sea breeze blows into their faces and swords of water happen all around them, like a swarm of bees. The waves pick up, crashing unfriendly against the shores. Only then, Jon observes how the old knight starts to miss his footing, as he runs faster. He crooks his neck and, desperation surging in his chest, he catches how the road had given up under a terrible wound, with banners of House Clegane rocking in the wind. Ser Gregor’s van. “The old man is mine. You can kill the boys, and feast on the bloody wolves if you like.” The Mountain yells.With a roar, the frontline opens and opens from north to south. Miles start to reduce under their feet and Jon thinks how two seas can crash against each other. The Mountain runs on the first line of the infantry and the moonlight picks the dark gleam of his longsword like the flagship of his own hungry fleet. Ser Barristan loosens the buckles of his cloak, and yanks it away, so he can run faster. His exhaustion is palpable, and for a moment, Jon fears he might sacrifice himself in order to give them more time to reach the shore.“There! I can see them!” Robb screams, as he jumps into the docks. Jon follows his finger and the fog opens slightly before them enough to reveal Queen Alysanne, Stannis’s warship, anchored in open sea, while a single boat awaits near the coast. Catelyn is there, alongside Ned, Robert and Jon Arryn, yet dread clutches at Robb’s heart as Ned is lying with his chest drenched in fresh blood, probably from a sword’s wound. Catelyn’s face lights up as she sees both boys and the old man running to meet them, and quickly orders a retreat but one of the oarsmen dismisses her.“It’s my son and my nephew!” She commands, in a tight voice.“We can’t, Your Grace. Viserys gave orders the coast is to be set on fire. We can’t risk it. They will have to jump.”Ser Barristan hears him and lowers Jon into Ghost’s back. Robert yanks on his feet, almost turning over the boat, and makes quick gestures to Robb, encouraging him to jump, but the redhead shakes his head in response.“Jon will be first! He’s wounded.”Jon clutches Ghost’s neck as the direwolf pads towards the edge. Robb reaches out to ruffle his hair, with a tired smile on his lips.“You’ll be okay.” He whispers, but Jon catches his hand before he steps back. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”“Don’t make me come back for you, Stark.” Jon says, smiling back. And his hand falls, just like all his body under the weight of his piercing ache. Robb gives them some space as Ghost prepares to leap. The distance isn’t so great but Jon still grits his teeth when they land gracefully on the rocking surface, and Catelyn throws one arm around him, cradling Ned’ head with the other. Robb smiles and turns back to instruct Grey Wind… but he finds Ser Barristan’s body flying past him instead, with a lance lodged on his shoulder. He doesn’t hear the body hit the water.“Well, well… It seems like the little prince is alone now.” Ser Gregor thrusts his sword into the ground, his yellow eyes take a cynic tour as his van spreads widely behind him. Robb swallows hard, as he watches helplessly the encirclement with the sea roaring in his back. He gives two steps back, but trips and falls, so Grey Wind lunges forward with a growl. That seems to amuse the Mountain even more, because the glint becomes sharp as a sword. He raises a hand.“Kill him.”He’s only half aware of how the screams happened one after the other, how his mother cries, how Robert throws himself into the water or how his father threatens to stand up. But one thing becomes as clear as his breath. Fire. From north and south, the sea bursts into flames as tall as Stannis’s ship, engulfing the beginning and end of the world, and somehow Robb senses the collision of both fronts in the depths of his blue eyes. He tries to use his hands to pull himself up, but the fire whispered and a large part of the floor cracks and disappears under a bite. “Jon!” It’s the last thing that leaves his mouth. Then, he falls. “Robb?” Jon turns around in Catelyn’s arms, prepared to see his cousin’s blue eyes hovering over him with concern, but the boat rocks with such force, his eyes close and his body loses balance. When he’s able to use them again, the fire had opened in a two-pronged front around them and the hull under their feet is smoking, a breath of grey and ash. The docks were burning, flames licking the waves which take magnitude in a furious offensive, and the boat threatens to overturn as a result. Terror grasps Jon’s throat and eyes trace desperate circles, searching for any sign of Robb alongside the shore, but there’s nothing, nothing. Robb is gone. And the Mountain, and everything else. He hovers over the rim, and almost falls with his face into the water.“Robb!” He yells at the top of his lungs, pupils going impossibly small.“Turn back! Please! My son is still there!” Catelyn cries, with her face soaked in tears. The captain shakes his head.“I can’t! The fire is too aggressive.”“You can’t leave him!” Jon snaps, taking the man by the hem of his cloak. “He’s alive! I know he is! Turn the boat back now!”He can’t be. The words die on his throat, and a single tear slides from one of his eyes. He takes a deep breath and propels himself to jump but Jon Arryn grasps him by the arm to stop him. “Let me go! Please! He’s still out there! I won’t leave him!” Jon tries to wrench free, he fights and curses, but the old man holds him in his place with a miserable look in his eyes. Jon releases an inhuman sob. “Please… I won’t leave him… Robb… Robb…”He holds his hand outstretched to the flames with his last energies. The world starts to fall around him, and now he’s only half conscious, enough to hear Ned’s mournful whispers for his son and Catelyn’s inconsolable cries in his hair. He closes his eyes while black takes away the last bits of his conscience. That was the last time he saw Robb Stark. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Fifteen years later “Excuse me. Have you seen Jon?”The maid almost runs into Sam on her way out of the room. She blinks up at him, her eyes widening in confusion, and that’s how Sam knows how long has it been since he left. He had just returned to the Capitol after months abroad in Horn Hill, and somehow, the absence made it difficult for his mind to relearn all the accesses he had known from his youth. Yet, as Sam clears the way to let her through, she smiles up at him, and says how good is to see him back. How they all missed him around these corridors.“So, you’re looking for Jon, then.” She blushes a little, and leans forward. Her voice is hushed, even if the two of them were completely alone in the middle of the hallway. “He’s in the smithy, but I wouldn’t disturb him if I were you. You know this day is—”“I know.” Sam was quick to add. He apologizes to her with his eyes. “But the King wants to see him. Good day.”Sam waves to her, and walks away. He takes the stairs on his left, climbing down the steps swiftly. He’s anxious, but at the same time, there’s a certain speed to his legs, laced with fear and insecurity and it couldn’t be other way, Sam thinks. Every time his eyes look outward into dark rooms and somber corners, his breath catches a little on his throat. He remembers fifteen years ago how these very halls had witnessed the slaughter of thousands of civilians at the hands of Targaryen soldiers, how day had turned into night as quick as a snap of fingers, and how the sun never came back again for the royal family, in spite of their late triumph.He was with Jon, Robb and Theon that night. The three of them had snuck out of the Red Keep to find his Father, following a false rumor spread by Roose Bolton’s son, Ramsay, who tricked them into believe Randyll Tarly was still alive. He never saw Jon and Robb again after they’d parted ways in Flea Bottom, all he could think of was to run as fast as his legs could take him. He took shelter inside one of the wrecked pot-shops five streets down and after hours of hiding in a foul, stinking kitchen, Theon found him.Just like everybody else, he thought it was all over. But Viserys’s reign was short-lived, for when Ned Stark was recovering in Dragonstone, he had massed a great force of soldiers to take back King’s Landing from the Dragon Heir. Viserys fled afterwards with his army, but the Kingsguard managed to catch Roose Bolton, sentencing him to death. It took several years to rebuild the city, for the damages had been too great. The Red Keep had lost the White Sword Tower and worse could be said about King’s Landing, where only few structures were left in one piece. Even after fifteen years, it was still a memory they could not put behind, not matter what they did. It was the day the King and the Queen lost their son Robb, when Blackwater Bay was set on fire. For years, the King had arranged searching parties across the Seven Kingdoms, holding onto the illusion he wasn’t dead. They were all fruitless, for Robb Stark was never found, neither was his direwolf. After the war, three more children had been born to the royal family, Sansa, Arya and Bran. But Catelyn never smiled again.Given the grief they still hold deep in their hearts, Ned had issued a royal decree to all twenty-five year old men in the Realm, who share some resemblance with the lost prince, to present themselves before court. As a result, the Red Keep was daily flooded with hundreds of redheads claiming to be the true Robb Stark. Some of them were really alike, but in the end, it was never him.Sam sighs. When he steps outside, the castle's grounds broaden under his feet. He doesn’t have to look twice to know where Jon is. The sound of the hammer and the anvil guides him through a misty morning across tall towers and bustling soldiers, and so he approaches carefully. It always begins around the same hour, Sam thinks, stuffing his arms inside his big cloak as his pace becomes erratic.“Ghost!” He yells happily.The white direwolf raises his head from his paws, napping against the smithy’s door. He sees the stranger just a few paces from him with small eyes, since he’s not used to other humans coming here. When it couldn’t be anyone else but Sam, he releases the ground with a jump and bumps his head against Sam’s knee. “What are you doing here?” Sam pets his head. “You should be hunting in the woods. This looks like… awfully boring to you.”“He’s not complaining.”Jon pauses to take a stained cloth and wipe the sweat off from his chest and shoulders. The piece of work in the anvil look only half-done but still Sam mentally counts how many manacles and fetters pile up between his feet. From this distance, it looks like a job for twenty men instead of one, but he knows just how Jon’s body had grown these last few years to be up for the task. At twenty-five, no longer a boy but a man, he’s even bigger than his uncle, with a broad, strong musculature and a reserved, stoic look in his eyes. Catelyn had done the best she can to produce the right size of clothing for him but it never seems to fit properly. And the same could be said about his hair. Black curls were thrown over his eyes as if caught by a howling wind. Jon prefers long hair, but unkempt even in his better days. Many of the servant girls complain he might have been raised in the Kingswood instead of the castle, yet Sam has seen the way they breathlessly look at him afterwards, and he knows they really don’t mean it.Jon raises his chin and glares at his best friend from under his lashes. One of his hands frees his eyes, the strand of hair blocking them tucked smoothly behind his ear, and Sam thinks he sees the curve of a soft smile there. Still smiling, he points the handle of the hammer right at Sam’s chest and holds it. If Sam were to do the same, he knows he’d have the breath knock out of him. The cursed thing landing on the ground along with Sam’s frustration. “Though, I can’t say the same now that you’re here, can I?” He remarks playfully.“I missed you, Jon.” Sam says, softly, returning the smile.Jon looks at him, long and wistful. “I missed you too, Sam.” He says, his arm softening. The expression between his eyes as well. He drops his gaze back to anvil, then hefts the hammer, and starts working again. A few stray droplets of sweat escape then, and trail down his ample chest with each stroke. “How’s Horn Hill?”“Oh, you know… There’s my mother, and my sister. Horn Hill could do with a bit of the Capitol’s excitement, to be honest.” Yet, Sam knows there’s nothing exciting going on around here. Not anymore. Silence stretches between them, sprinkled by the hammer’s blows and Sam drops his eyes to the pile of manacles he glimpsed before between Jon’s feet. “Who are those for?”Jon’s grey eyes darken at the question. And Sam bites his lip, knowing his mistake. Everybody in the Red Keep cradles a list of questions which are never supposed to be asked out loud in his presence, most were about the sack of King’s Landing fifteen years ago. Sam was one of the few people to make the exception, but only when Jon’s mood allows it. Today wasn’t the case.“Jon…” He says, nervously. “The prisoners are locked in the black cells. They won’t go anywhere.”After the Starks prevailed, they captured a line of enemies from Targaryen’s legions. The captains were executed but many officers were kept alive in the dungeons. Jon would often go down with the gaolers and interrogate them, ask them about Viserys and such, or at least that’s what Sam wanted to believe. He didn’t want to think of his friend as a torturer, even if it was probably true. He had seen his knuckles the day after, cracked, purpling skin which Jon tries very hard to hide, and the dark gleam on his eyes says what words couldn’t.“I didn't make these for them.” He explains, coldly. His gaze darts away with practice. “Only for me.”Sam sighs, and looks away. He knew this was coming. A wide, uncomfortable silence builds between them and Jon lets the hammer slide from his grasp, it hits the floor with a loud thud which half-wakes a dozing Ghost. Without looking at Sam, he seizes another piece from the forge and sets to work again, brushing a fall of black hair back from his cheek. It’s a mask, Sam knows. Because his wounds could never be fixed like these weapons.“Why did you come here, Sam?”Sam bites his lip. “I stopped by your Uncle’s office just now. He wants to see you.” “He can come here, if he pleases.”“Jon, please.” Sam begs. “He’s the King, you can’t just—”“I’m tired, Sam.” Jon’s hair slashes across his face when he whirls back to Sam. His eyes were wide, and filled with rising anger. “I’m so fucking tired of all this, you know that. I asked to be left alone, not once, but many times and yet—”He hides his face behind his black curls, protecting Sam from the rawness of his own emotions. Sam doesn’t go on and watches his friend in fretful silence. After one or two deep exhalations, Jon comes back to himself, his anger settling into something more bearable. Sam swallows and tilts his head back to Ghost, who curls his giant body into a tiny ball, telling him it was safe to go.“It might be the real, this time.”“It’s not. The real Robb is dead.”“As I said, you don’t know that.” He spreads his hands and steps forward, until his shadow obscures daylight on Jon’s skin. “The truth is nobody saw or heard from Robb in fifteen years. His body was never found, and your uncle truly believes he’s still alive. And so did you, once.”“That was a long time ago.” Jon says, softly. His lids flutter close then, breathing out. “It’s what I told the girls when they asked me, that’s all.”“You know I don’t believe that.” Sam smiles sadly. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near you if Arya learns you’ve been telling her lies. Just do it, for them. And for your Aunt.”Jon sighs, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. When he drops back his arm, Sam notes he had only spread it until his skin was glossy and red. Jon’s eyes land on Ghost, who immediately jumps and wags his tail impatiently, a message he receives as give up. For a moment, Jon considers going bare-chested and see the scandalized look on his Uncle’s eyes, yet he knows how impolite and ungrateful that would be. Instead, he throws the jerkin over his shoulder and smirks at Sam, saying with his eyes he owes him a cup of wine later. Then, he leaves. He always hated this part of the castle. As Jon approaches the Small Council’s Hall, he can’t help but brush his fingertips against the stone walls, the rugged edges of it catching on the callouses of his skin. At his side, Ghost walks almost noiselessly and casts a big shadow both on the wall and on Jon’s knees. He often doesn’t come up here, preferring to skirt across the castle’s grounds where speed is allowed. Jon is thankful for the company, yet he sees the wolf’s only interested in sniffing the slabs of stone on the floor and the life forms they hold, so that earns both a roll of eyes and a soft pet on his torso. “You’re hopeless.” He mutters to him. He stops for a moment outside the big oaken door, and looks down at the mud poking out from the sole of his boots. He feels like a chastised child all of the sudden. Jon sees his own breath leaving brokenly his body, how it escapes in wheezes that seem to go on with the growth of the day. It was too late to turn back now, yet there was nothing in the world he would love more, he thinks unamused. The day was too bright to be stuck in a stuffy room with bickering old men, and he almost laughs at how mild that sounded. If only that were the reason.The door creaks open before he can knock.“We were starting to think when will you make an appearance.” One of the guards whispers to him, as he lets him in.Sunlight was streaming through one of the windows when Jon steps into the paneled room, catching the line of tapestries with the direwolf’s head of the Starks hanging from the walls. The fire crackles in the hearth, and his four-legged friend lies down in front of it while the session is in need of him. The table has been removed some time after the war, and now the chairs are disposed in a semi-circle, now facing Jon. He sees Robert Baratheon, round face framed with white hair now thanks to the late wars, but the way the snores fills the room tell Jon nothing has changed still. Yet, he can’t blame him. Maester Pycelle’s dull voice would bore anyone to death, anyone crazy enough to invest time on this.“The Small Council is in very need to perform this kind of procedures after the war to ensure our Prince is in fact no impostor. As you can see, I took the liberty to elaborate a serial of questions, with the King’s fully consent of course. Explaining them to you know would be weary business, but as Great Maester of the Citadel it is my duty to do it anyway. Each one of them serves the purposes of the Crown, and the Prince’s most intimate records as well. For example, this one—”“Thanks, Maester Pycelle. I think you made your point.” Jon Arryn says at once, his bald head glittering under a shaft of light. He clears his throat when he hears Jon’s chair scraping at the floor. “But since the King’s nephew is here now, maybe we can leave him the honors.”“Jon?”Ned Stark angles his grey eyes to catch the other twin gaze at the other end of the room. Jon looks back at the King, forcing a smile that says all the opposite, since he was using all his strength to stop himself from running away. He barely dares to look at his Uncle these last few years without feeling inexplicably empty, or drown in guilt. The King’s hair is completely white now, and his face though still hard, is lined and withered with tales of so many battles. It was hard to think of this man as the one he had been fifteen years ago, since flesh was prominently absent, reducing him to a feeble old King whose grief had taken its toll. And Jon doesn’t have to look harder. The loss of weight is so visible the Crown does not longer fit his head, and even if the subject was kindly pressed a couple of times, the King had refused the goldsmiths’ suggestions to reform it. Ned gestures Jon to sit down and join them, since it’s not very decent to stare so fixedly at one of the requesters, especially if it’s a young, redheaded man like this one. It takes him a couple of seconds to realize this. “Please, Jon. Would you do me the honor?” Ned asks.He could hear chuckles behind him, the guards most like, as he guiltily studies the guest, knelt before the royal quartet. Taking in the hair, too red, a young face filled with many freckles. Body way too lean and skinny, and when the man raises his chin, there is… nothing. His eyes… yes, his eyes were blue. But not the shade of blue he’s looking for. He might as well have Redwyne’s bloodline rather than northern Stark. It’s been so long, and yet I still can remember every inch of him. Whether that’s a blessing, or a curse. Yet given these last few years, and how he had lived without living in the slightest, Jon feels for the latter. He starts when a sigh full of disdain pulls him out of his reverie.“Is this really necessary?” The fake Robb says, and Jon’s brow furrows. Yes, definitely not him. “Jon, why don’t you tell these people who am I?”“As I said before, the Crown insists on this kind of—”“No, he’s right, Maester Pycelle.” Jon says at once, startling the other members of the Small Council. His eyes hardly leave the arrogant man who’s stifling a yawn in Jon’s direction, and his eyebrows rise over his hairline at how unimpressive that is. “Maybe I should tell them who you are. But since I’m not in the mood, maybe I should let someone else do it. Boy, come here.”Something which sounds like a curse, and then a ‘what the fuck-’ spills from the man’s lips, as Ghost stalks towards him. The direwolf doesn’t even growl, in fact right now he’s as harmless as Arya’s cats when he sniffs the man’s exposed boot, but a sick green surges on his face all the same. It was the only thing amusing enough of these appointments, Jon thinks with a sly smile.“You don’t know who he is?” Ned asks, eyeing the scene suspiciously.“O-of course…” The fake Robb stutters, sweating profusely. “I just… I— uhm, I’d always preferred horses.”“That’s funny.” Jon Arryn says, humorlessly. “Because the Prince excelled in everything except horseriding. He always came second after Jon.”There’s a constant hesitation to this man. When it comes to answer these simple questions, his eyes would flicker to the floor as if avoiding the inquiry. That was one of the first lessons for future Kings, if not the very basics of it, and Jon remembers Robb age three never eluding the other’s gaze, because it was the same as eluding responsibility. Maester Pycelle folds the scroll of parchment between bony fingers as the King’s unbreakable patience falls an inch.“I have one last question for you.” He says, impassibly. “How did you and Jon escape the Castle fifteen years ago?”That was often the last question and the hardest since only three people in the world knew what happened that night. And so these four walls had witnessed the craziest stories Jon has ever heard over the years. They often involved two ten-year-old boys jumping from the Red Keep’s highest tower, or a flock of birds coming to their aid. Yet, one day a fake Robb had come up with a story about how Viserys allowed them to escape after a change of heart. And Jon immediately fled the Small Council before breaking his chair.It’s all a game to them. He thinks, his eyes flickering boringly across the room. This one’s testimony wasn’t different from hundreds he heard in the past, none of them even an inch close to the truth behind it all. And while the Small Council loses time with silly matters, the man who killed Robb is alive somewhere out there.“Thank you for your… creativity. The guards will see you out.” The man stumbles to his feet and leaves through the door without further speech. “Well, now, to the nex—”“No.” Ned says, determinately, drawing all eyes on him. He sighs sadly, and says. “It’s enough for today. Please, leave us.”And it’s clear to Jon his Uncle doesn’t mean him. So, he lingers behind as Robert, Uncle Jon and Maester Pycelle rise from their seats. Before closing the door, Jon catches their debate about certain measures like Robert’s warhammer to narrow spirally the numbers of requesters. Ned’s look falls visibly and Jon fights back the urge to bite his lip, for he knows too well the disappointment in the older man’s eyes. For the first time in his life, he takes in how old and aged his Uncle look right now. He stands up, hands clasped behind his back, and quietly starts pacing the room while Jon follows him with his gaze. Just when he thinks that was all, Ned clears his throat.“I thought he was the one.” His voice was far-off. “I’m sorry, Uncle.” Jon tells him, eyeing Ghost who is sniffing the lingering scent. The angle of the King’s spine is sharp, bones just too pronounced, lines deeply etched onto his face. His condition had only worsened with the passing of years and sometimes Jon fears there’s more to it than what he lets it show. His eyes drift down to his trembling hands, and there, he sees a crumpled letter, hanging open for Jon to read. He can’t though, and it preoccupies him. Just as much as his Uncle cracking voice and the tired flutter of his lashes as he observes the city. “These past few years,” The Kings says, and Jon brings his eyes back up. “I’ve seen hundreds young men coming through that door pretending to be my son. Acting like him, talking like him, looking like him.” His grey, vacant eyes leap from the window to Jon's, and the brunette feels a cold hand closing around his throat. “Do you know what’s it like?”Yes, I do. He thinks, biting his lip. He doesn’t answer, but says. “Do you think we should stop?”A part of Jon wants to feel happy about this, yet… His hands ball into fists.“No.” Ned says, after a long silence. “I can’t do that to Cat. I can’t do that to any of my children.” Breathing hard, he opens his hand and traces the lines of callouses on his palm. “Robb is alive, Jon. I know it, I feel it.”“So you’ve said.” Jon whispers, distractedly.“Cat heard you the other day talking to Theon.” He says, using the emotionless stare of the Starks. “You want to go back to Summerhall.”Jon swallows, and says nothing. It wasn’t a question, nor an affirmation. After Viserys lost the war and fled from the Seven Kingdoms, he had known all his life his birthright lays within Summerhall, his ancestral house. He was after all the heir of House Targaryen now. His paternal family had committed the cruelest crimes against the Crown, but his father Rhaegar was one of the few who wanted to make things right, and even if he was dead now, it was Jon’s wish to carry on with the Targaryen’s atonement for everything they’d started since then. He never really belonged in King’s Landing, and after Bran is crowned King –if these funny little questionings lead them nowhere –he imagines he could serve his little cousin from his rightful place in the South. It was still a dream, however. The fortress was in ruins and there was a small chance Viserys may still be a threat if he wasn’t found, so as far as that remain unsolved, then he wasn’t in the position to decide now.“You know I can’t stay here forever, Uncle. Summerhall is my birthright. I’m the only hope you have to bring back the Targaryens under your trust again.”“I know. It’s not safe to say so just now, but I’ve always known you—” He trails off. “Your Aunt didn’t take the news so well, I’m afraid.”“What do you mean?” Jon's brow furrows.“She believes Sansa is ready for… well, for a political marriage once you leave the city. And the Lord of Driftsmark offered his firstborn as well as his good intentions to join our Houses.”“What?” Jon practically yells, widening his eyes.His throat tightens with only the thought of it. The Lord of Driftsmark was a Viserys’s supporter, even if all this time they’d denied it. He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case, for both Houses were always close in the past and it’s no secret the Velaryons helped Viserys during the rebellion.“Uncle, you can’t allow this. She’s losing her mind.” “You haven’t seen her lately, Jon. You can’t know how she feels like since—.” Ned looks away. “Arya practices swordfight with Ser Barristan everyday and she doesn’t have the strength to argue with her anymore. And now this…”A flash of anger flits across Jon’s eyes, and his fingernails are blue where he’s digging them into his palm. “I lost both of my parents due to the war. And I lost Robb too. For the girls and for Bran, she can’t give up now. You have to talk to her.”“I’ll try, son.” Ned gives him a sad smile, then walks over to the door. “You might as well go visit her sometime. She’d like that.”He leaves Jon there, great cloak streaming behind him as he walks out. The Targaryen heir only stands there alone, clenching his jaw in solitude. All he wishes to do now is punch the wall with his bare fists. “Well, that’s a sight I haven’t seen in a long time.”Jon freezes on his next step. So much of reaction after everything he heard this morning. His head was still spinning after he walked away from the Small Council’s Hall and wasn’t exactly sure where his feet were taking him, until it was too late. The training yard, where he used to train in arms when he was a little child. The scar on his back gives Jon a twitch as he was minimally pushed back into all the years he avoided this place as much as possible, but the earthy flavor was the first thing that rushes back, along with a smell of horseshit and humus now widely spread about thanks to the late rains. The past dances across too, but he ignores it, as he takes in the new occupants which replace now the ghostly shapes of boys, princes to be, in the tender of their youth. Blissfully ignorant of what was to come. It’s highly different now, Jon grants, and while Ser Barristan invests this too solemn stare following his greeting, Arya who is dueling him of all people, just whirls and her face breaks into a broad smile when she sees him.“Jon! Did you come to see me fight?” She asks, waving her wooden sword and trying with a stance, she knows, would make her cousin proud.“The way I see it, you’re far better than me.” Jon says, with a gentle smile. “I’d be more careful if I were Ser Barristan.”The old knight gives both cousins a satisfied grin, which also serves as a wordless appreciation towards the eldest cousin in his bravery to come here, but his arms tremble visibly when he thrusts the sword into the earth, and his face gives into pain, only for Jon to notice. Ser Barristan had been seriously injured in Blackwater’s Bay when he tried to fight back the Mountain. He fell into the sea, and only managed to survive afterwards when Robert swam and took him out. He had been incredibly guilty afterwards, saying he should’ve protected Robb with his life. The only was of redemption, he decided, was to serve the rest of the Stark’s children as if they were the little Prince he had lost. It was still a promise he desperately clang to, even if his body no longer accompanies his will. “You’re welcome to join us any time you want.” The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard says, even if he knows the answer he’d probably get. Jon had quit fighting a long time ago.“Sorry, I don’t want to give Aunt Cat any more nightmares.” The brunette glances back at Arya with a playful light on his eye. “Just like a certain lady I know.”“I don’t give her nightmares!” The girl pouts. “And I’m no lady!” He only smirks, then sits down on the wooden steps with his arms around his knees. As far from them as he physically could. Still, Arya takes this as a pause in her training and drops her wooden sword, then breaks into a race towards him, her face flushed and sweaty.“You were with Father, weren’t you? Did you find him? My older brother?” She asks hurriedly. Jon frowns.“No.” “So, it was another actor?” She crosses her arms around her chest. Her face is twisted into a scowl. “You want me to kick his ass for you?”Jon has to smile at that. He had always been so proud of her. He loves Sansa and Bran too, but the moment Arya was born she had clung to him, and he considers her his true little sister. Everybody in the Castle speaks about how much she takes after Lyanna, his mother, and that was something Jon had learned to cherish about her. “Why don’t you do me a favor instead? Go check on Bran for me, while I talk to Ser Barristan alone for some minutes.”Arya scowls but still complies, for if there’s anyone in the Castle she had learned to be discrete for, it’s Jon. After her brown locks of hair disappear in the distance, wildly bouncing behind her, Jon allows his face to shift back into steel. Ser Barristan’s balance is the same as a winning sword in battle, elegant and graceful, yet his old eyes are not so keen, especially to discern the boy in the burning city, a sweet boy full of dreams of his own, from this man he had become.“So, you said you don’t want to fight anymore, but apparently that doesn’t apply to the little night visits I keep hearing about in the black cells.” Jon just rolls his eyes. “Being spying on me, haven’t you?” He says, distractedly. His grey eyes seek the lined ones with a speck of interest. “You knew… about Lady Stark?”“Yes, Jon. She’s… not well. Consumed by grief, some say. I’m afraid her children are too young to see it, and even more to endure whatever commitment they are placed into because of it.”“My Uncle won’t allow it.” Jon says hotly. “I won’t allow it.”“I’m sorry to tell you this, but you don’t have a saying in your cousins’ futures. Especially, if yours is just as uncertain.” Ser Barristan tells him, eyeing him carefully. “You’re twenty-five. The longer you hold up your own marriage’s plans, then—”“I don’t care about that.” Jon scowls, watching the pageboys from the castle retrieving the practice weapons thrown about, to stuff them back into the armories. Maids on the far galleries wink their eyes at him as they go, with their arms full of baskets. But his eyes instead halt on the line of Jon Arryn’s guardsmen, marching towards the Tower of the Hand with lances over their shoulders. He lifts one eyebrow as he remembers something.“My Uncle received a raven this morning?”“Yes.” Ser Barristan nods. His expression was hard to read. “Someone who looked too much like Sandor Clegane was seen recently on the Stepstones. It seems like some pirates had taken him captive on the isle. They still can’t confirm if he’s the real one.”Jon widens his eyes. Sandor Clegane was one of the few captains from his brother Gregor’s army to elude the King’s justice fifteen years ago. His whereabouts after the war were a mystery, and the common belief was that he had been killed that night.“Is any of our captains going to investigate?”“Yes, one is.” The old knight says, a knowing glint flashing shortly across his eyes. “Theon Greyjoy.” He quietly makes his way up the stairs to the royal bedchambers, knowing right with the intensity of the candlelight how late it was. It was easy to miss track of time when he spent the entire day looking for Theon across the city, or the brothels, in his case. When the sun was no longer shining in the sky, he decided he should leave it until tomorrow, citing a few bad experiences when he was late to wish his little cousins goodnight. Arya particularly, was very prickly about it. Yet, Jon stops a few inches from the door before daring to cross it. It will do them little good if he strides in with concern screaming from his face, as hard as it was to push it down after the news of Sandor Clegane. It seems nearly impossible when the thought was piercing his skull, since if this man was in fact alive, it was their fist critical lead to Viserys, which could result in his hypothetical encirclement.Jon gnaws on his lip. Then, after gathering strength, pushes the doors open.Arya and Bran were already asleep, both of them curled under a heap of furs and blankets in Bran’s bed. Gods, she’s going to be so mad at me tomorrow. Jon thinks, as he clears the way to Bran’s side and sits on the side. His little lashes fan over his cheeks, and Jon reaches out to stroke his chestnut hair tenderly. Well, tomorrow he will have to come up with a decent excuse of why he ditched bedtime stories. Though, the evil side of him was actually relieved, since he loathes telling the same over and over again. Stories which promised a happy ending, but afterwards—“Jon?” The brunette looks down, sees Bran’s wide eyes shining through the dark.“Sorry, Bran. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He says apologetically, flashing a smile at his cousin’s sleepy face. “Go back to sleep.”“I had a bad dream.” The child tells him, voice only above a whisper as to not wake his sleeping sister. There’s a note of fear, and Jon supposes all children are scared sometime in their lives, yet the way fear lives in his seven-year-old cousin it’s a conclusion Bran is actually an adult trapped inside a child’s small body. And that wasn’t healthy. Catelyn needed to stop neglecting them, yet all his Aunt ever does is isolate herself in her room. Jon does not remember the last time he had seen her in the daylight, even to visit the Sept.“What about?”“I don’t know.” Bran shrugs, tilting his head to see Jon fully in the eyes. “I don’t remember it very well. But…” His head sinks into the pillow, creasing it a bit, as he tries to gather his thoughts. After a long moment, he sighs and shakes his head. “There was a man… a blonde man with dragons. They were huge… and flying all over King’s Landing.”It wasn’t the first time Bran tells him about this kind of dreams. Jon would be surprised if he didn’t have them. Everyone here had their own type of sequels after the Targaryen’s Rebellion, and even if Bran hadn’t even been born during that time, it was very possible that the child had somehow managed to channel his mother’s phobia. The city itself was a big scar, and its walls exist now like flags of imprisonment, never freedom.“Will you keep me safe, if something happens?” Bran asks, shyly.“Of course.” Jon smiles. He leans forward, and plants a kiss on his cousin’s forehead. “I will never let anything happen to you. Or your sisters. Now, go back to sleep.”He stands up, then walks to the hearth as to add a few logs, and the fire crackles merrily. He spins over his heels when he hears faints knocks on the door. With a playful roll to his eyes, Jon opens it, and there’s a boy of twelve, though he was only a head shorter than him, standing on the doorway and swaying over his heels shyly.“Erhm— Jon. You’re here. Can I— Can I see Arya?” He asks, blushing, eyes are fixed on his feet. Jon leans against the door, and scratches his beard with amusement.“It’s a little bit late now, don’t you think Gendry?”“I know.” Robert’s bastard son sighs, still afraid to look up. “But my Father is—” The boy bites on his lip and says nothing else, though Jon doesn’t need him to. It’s seems like the post-war era didn’t completely help to rid of Robert’s secret habits, and the fact there were fewer brothels than before wasn’t really an impediment, quite the contrary actually. Gendry was of age with Arya and was the only bastard son Robert had been inclined to bring to King’s Landing, in hopes to encourage some kind of friendship between them, just like he, his cousin, and their two friends had. Jon was glad, and since Catelyn insisted on acting like a thoughtless mother, Arya needed a friend to cope with her family. He had to admit, with a sad smile on his face, even after losing both of his parents, his childhood was one of the happiest moments in his life. “Can I stay here, please?”Jon nods, with a half-smile, and opens the door to let him in. Nodding his thanks, Gendry climbs onto the bed, and settles next to Arya. Yes, his childhood was one of the happiest moments for him, but still, someone had taken that away from him. And every night was a reminder that someone had to pay, and with a dark, unsettling grin, Jon knows anyone would do, as long as he wasn’t clean. There were still too many rats in King’s Landing, too many. The iron chain rattles once, then twice, as the gaoler with sunken eyes opens the way to the line of cells. The glow of torchlight reflects on the puddles spread about on the slick floor, like the closest thing to sunlight they’d ever see three levels underground. Being this far from the actual world, he feels he finally sees some clarity, as innocence can never bloom on a place like this. The gaoler’s wooden club falls hard and culminating on the set of iron bars, and the last cell is filled with an earsplitting noise, which almost creeps up to the Red Keep’s highest towers. A pair of putrid, crystal eyes opens in the middle of the dark, savoring the taste of company which was denied to him for fifteen years. His head was hung like ready for the gallows, but he finds easy to watch the glare at the other side of the bars, and the shape of a man he knew too well. The cynic slash of a smile is evident, succeeded by cackles, and Jon sees a toothless mouth, and a face just too deformed, caked in brown blood and dirt and soot. Consumed, and yet, mocking.It takes everything of him not to put an end to it.“Jon…” The prisoner whispers, cynically, and his brow furrows under the torchlight. “Hello Jon…” He coughs. The light reserves every part of the prisoner’s body, except his eyes… And Jon has the feeling if he was allowed to take a full look at him, after so many years, no one would be able to stop him. Another laugh happens, yet this time is followed by a clear tension from every one of his muscles. “I… I was hoping you’d bring Sansa this time. You know, it’s getting a little bit lonely down here…”His fist clenches under his sleeve. The prisoner picks this with the clear message he’d pulled the right strings, and his smile gets wider.“Do you still miss him?” He asks, darting his tongue out, and licking his bottom lip. “You know, I think I did you a favor. You could marry the Stark girl, and claim the Throne for yourself. You could have the life you’d always wanted.” He spits a glob of blood into the ground, and the glint in his eyes grows sharper. “The perfect little Prince. I know… you wanted him dead even more than me.”Nothing.“You still want to kill me…” He says again, eyebrows drawn together. Breathing hard against the dark, the mockery in his voice doesn’t diminish. “Just like you killed Viserys, right?” He lets out a grotesque laugh. “Oh, no. Wait. He’s not dead. And even if you force yourself to feel hate, you know deep inside… you never belonged with the Starks. Never. Viserys is waiting for you, Jon. Your family is waiting for you… Waiting for the moment to see your dear Uncle Ned’s head rolling onto the floor, to see Sansa raped and murdered like the whore of your mother, or your little Bran, his body still and helpless on a Throne that was too big for him. Yes, that’s a day I look forward to see. And the best part is… you won’t be able to do anything about it. Not this time.” Nothing.Behind them, Rugen lets out an annoyed grunt and Jon narrows his eyes into slits. He whirls and hands him the torch, before walking to the door of four inches thick. He spares one last look at the haughty gaoler.“Close the door behind me.” He says, with promise of pain. “This will take me a while.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “This place is nice. Too bad we didn’t come back here after you fucked the owner’s daughter.”Jon rolls his eyes and his friend’s face lights up, eyes twinkling and very suggestive. For once, he wishes he was seated closer to Theon Greyjoy so he could take the smirk from his face with his fists, though he supposes he should know better to taste his luck now when this is the only place they’re allowed to talk.“That was you, Greyjoy.” He replies, reaching to grab the mug of dark brown ale before them. His dark eyes seek for Greyjoy's across the haze of the room. “Or have you forgotten that?”The mockery is there again, probably since Jon asked him to meet him in a private place. Sam’s eyes flit between both of his friends, and there is a certain fear laced everytime he does that. Plates and cutlery often fly this way and that whenever Jon and Theon are in the same room, still now they are both adults, brawls had miraculously reduced between them since adolescence is out of the question. There are days, though, he wonders why King’s Landing wasn’t bigger. He sips at his own drink with little enthusiasm, and sinks into the alcove they’re currently occupying. There’s something odd in his face as well, for wandering too far away from the Red Keep still brings illness to his body, memories too fresh prick at him every now and then when the strong walls give way to empty streets and shallow corners. Theon only shrugs, downing the tankard of ale before their eyes while stretching his long legs under the table.“So, what did you want to talk about?” Theon asks, as his eyes detail the slim, feminine shapes of serving girls going about the tables with grey strays in their hands. “Or was it an excuse to miss a day at work?" He gestures with his eyes at Jon's ale and for a moment, he looks considerate. "I still don't know how you put up with this shit."The frown on Jon’s face confirms that’s exactly why he was in a foul mood now. After spending the whole morning at court, his Uncle dismissed him citing he obviously needed fresh air. It was a good excuse actually, because his distraction during the whole thing was evident. The name Sandor Clegane never once left his thoughts, more actually than the earsplitting tales he kept hearing by obligation. After fifteen years of nothing, Sandor Clegane was alive, and not just that, but in Essos. Jon didn't know much about House Clegane, other than it was born out of convenience to Tywin Lannister and with scant purpose beyond the safety of its huge keep on the westerlands. Beyond Westeros. After the war, all its members were thought to be dead and Jon believed the name to be over with them. At least until today.“Ser Barristan told me you’re leaving the city.” Jon begins, fingers playing with the rim of the glass. He stops then, clasps his hands together over the table top while eyeing Theon frowningly. “You’re after Sandor Clegane.” His gaze hardens suddenly. Theon’s grin widens underneath his eyes and he leans back against the chair, a hand cupping the base of his drink.“Hardly a concern for the King’s nephew, don’t you agree? Oh, I forgot sometimes you like to pretend you're someone else while sneaking off to the black cells in the middle of the night.”“Don’t test me, Greyjoy.” Jon warns. “If you’re so occupied with whores lately, then I’m sure it won’t hurt you to tell me where your ship will be in the next few days.”He tried with politeness, but in the end, words hang from his mouth with something like acid, and even if Theon deserves it sometimes, now Jon is sure he had little to do with his growing headache. Combined with his urgency on finding Sandor Clegane, he’s been caught in a middle of a conflict between going or staying when it comes to his Aunt Catelyn. He wanted to see her, but a part of him fears many things, fears she might know of his wishes to leave King’s Landing soon, and fears of his own reaction when she presses Sansa’s marriage into his knowledge. This morning, when he woke up and made his way to see if Bran had started his lessons, he was caught up at the sight of Sansa crying in the godwoods, a routine the girl had been clinging to since her own life was falling apart before her. And she didn’t have any friends now because her mother made sure no one was near her. “Guys, don’t fight. People are watching.” Sam says in a whisper.For once in his life, Theon decides to follow Sam’s advice. His head bends slightly while collecting a piece of parchment from his pocket, then tosses it to Jon. Jon blinks in surprise. He opens it and reads it fast. It’s a map, an old one, but it does not detail the well-known isles of the Stepstones. Far from it, Jon recognizes the Slaver City, Yunkai. With its shores and all. Confusion settles on his face, and he glances over at Sam wondering if he’s thinking the same.“Yunkai?”“You can’t, Theon. Slavery is forbidden in Westeros.” Sam says hurriedly, while Theon just rolls his eyes. “Does my Uncle know about this?” Jon asks again. “Sandor Clegane was seen on the Stepstones, not Yunkai.” The owner of the inn gives them a glare from afar and Jon shifts in his chair, ignoring him. He knows pirates, crown affairs and such are subjects the owner clearly forbids amongst his tables, and while the brunette tries to keep his voice as low as possible, still here even walls have ears. It’s far better than the Red Keep though, something they have learned to know for quite a while. Rebuilt after the sack of King’s Landing, the inn serves as a respite for Jon when the high flows of royalty in the castle exceeds his liking, even if the smell of clay still lingers in their drinks. “Do you have a ship, Jon?” Theon asks, smugly. “If you do, then the last place on earth you’d want to be is there.”Jon glares hard, while Sam was quick to advice peace with his eyes, knowing what happens to those who fight when the doors were closed.“Still, I don't think anyone ever mentioned anything about Slaver's Bay.” He states, pushing back his tension as best as he could. “Not if the whole purpose of this journey is hiding on an entirely different place.”“There is no one as perfect as you, is there Jon?” Theon says, smirking. “My family speared the waves of the sea long before yours was ever mentioned in history books. Pages are empty now. Should we give them more reason to be so once pirate ships take care of you as well? Assuming you’re planning to come with me, that is.”Jon draws his eyebrows together. “You’re far too kind.” He says, a curl of sarcasm worming its way through Jon’s voice. A fingernail tears into a gash of wood on the table top, and Jon trails its length in deep silence. He brings his eyes up then, fixes them on Theon’s irritating face. “That’s how I know you’re lying.” He says darkly. “Now, are you going to tell me what this is really all about?” The Ironborn shoots a triumphant smile from across the table, and Sam knows it irks Jon, just like everything Theon often does. This place grows old with stories of how the two of them clash against each other, an odd friendship they’d maintained over the years but still speaks volumes of hostility and ill-feelings. Everything went worse after Robb’s death and when the constant remarks about Sansa didn’t stop, Jon reached a point where he could hardly tolerate them anymore. Eventually, they made up, but still any spark serve to turn the discussion into a heating level, especially where the Stark family was concerned. “You can say whatever you want,” Theon says. “I know what’s in The Yellow City may interest you more than it interests me.”He raises an eyebrow and for a moment the sound of the owner cleaning glasses in the counter fills the room while Jon knows he hasn’t blinked at all for a while. What could be in Yunkai that’s so important for him? He has never been outside King’s Landing before. And he knows nothing of the three Slaver Cities of the East, Yunkai least of all. Only the common beliefs of a city made of yellow bricks and tall pyramids, with roots which trace back to the Old Empire of Ghis and worshippers of the harpy.“It’s seems like Yurkhaz zo Yunzak, the Supreme Commander of the Armies and Allies of Yunkai, has received a great number of slaves for the fighting pits. Great warriors all, trained since childhood, and more than fit for any labor you may ask of them.” Theon says nonchalantly, while Jon makes a face that says he has no idea what the other is talking about. Slaves? Fighting pits?“And why would I care about any of that?”“If it takes fifteen years to find a man in Westeros who looks like Robb, then it might take even less to find one who looks like him in Essos.”One second. Two. He kind of wants to believe he heard it the wrong way. Or if he waits long enough, a laughter would produce itself. But there’s nothing going on other than the beat of his furious heart thrumming in his chest, and heat makes his way up from his stomach to his throat like the night of the attack. Theon doesn’t say further, as he gestures for another refill of his cup like he had just said he wanted vacations. Jon finds his fingers are glued to the glass, and skin resists the pull when he stretches them. As his voice is failing, Sam takes the question from the tip of his tongue.“So, are you saying we should buy a slave from Yunkai, bring him to King’s Landing and pretend he’s… well, Robb?”“Perfect solution, isn’t it?”“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Jon shot out of his chair, sending it tumbling back behind him. “A slave? In Robb’s place?” His eyes were raging. “Do you think this is all a game we are playing? My family is desperate trying to find their son, the real one, not a substitute. They still believe he’s out there alive and—”“And you? Do you believe he’s alive?” Theon asks, sincerely. His eyes are a bit sharper now, flinty gaze meeting Jon’s through the thickness of the air. Jon stumbles back, shock still lodged behind his pupils. “You know what I think, Theon.” He finally says, looking away brusquely. “But I can’t break my Uncle and my Aunt’s hearts with such a lie. It’s dishonorable and they have suffered enough.”“Yeah, and they’ll continue to be miserable for the rest of their lives if you don’t do something about it.” The Ironborn replies. “What does it take for you to see what’s going on? The Queen is throwing Sansa into the enemy’s bed while the Realm applauds. We are this close of catching Viserys as we were fifteen years ago. And if something happens to your Uncle, the heir to the Iron Throne is a frightened child of seven years old who doesn’t know how to fight or win a war. Yes, it may seem dishonorable, but you’re in no position to say you have something to lose.”“So, this is your answer? You swore fealty to the crown and to your King. If something happens to Uncle Ned, Bran is your King. I don’t care if he’s a child, it’s his right. Who am I to take that away from him and sit a stranger on the Iron Throne to rule the Seven Kingdoms?”“We can train him, teach him how to be Robb and no one would tell the difference.” Jon rolls his eyes. “Here in this table are the people who knew him best. I’m sure we can manage.”“Actually, I think Theon’s right, Jon.” Sam adds. Jon cuts his eyes back at him in shock. The boy from Horn Hill coughs, as he explains. “I mean, it’s not so difficult to believe. In the past, Kings would often switch places with one of his servants to protect himself from an oncoming threat. Logical, don't you think?”“Weren’t you the one who insisted Robb was alive?”“Yeah but…” Sam fidgets a bit, then drops his eyes back to the floor. “I just hoped that one day we were going to find him. I wanted to see the joy on the Stark children’s faces when that happens, since… It was my fault. Robb was killed because I mentioned we should go after my father back then and—”“No, it wasn’t your fault.” Jon says, and softens his voice. Something bitter still lingers in the back of his throat though, something he can't entirely get rid off. No matter how many years has it been since then. “It was because of Ramsay Bolton. And my family.”He balls his hands into fists, thinking disgustedly how the blood which caused so much pain and destruction in the past is the same that runs freely in his veins now. He shuts his eyes hard and opens them again, with a look which says it was too early in the day for this. He looks back at Theon, a rare fierceness to his body that wracks through him whole, while his friend waits, an arm curled loosely around the back of his chair, watching Jon with a blank expression on his face.“I won’t do it." Jon finally says. "I won't insult his memory by bringing someone else to pass off as him.” It’s dry, drier than he meant in the beginning but he couldn’t believe Theon’s nerve. Couldn’t believe his friend would talk about Robb as if— Jon stops, breathes out, tries to put himself together, at least as best as he could all these years. Sad thing was each year he was getting worse at it. He tilts his head back to Theon and Sam, the burn of frustration deep in his eyes. “I don’t care if this shatters all hope my cousins may have. They will have to learn to live with it… without him, just like I did.”“Yeah, that sounds really honorable, Jon.” Theon says, and it’s not kind, not what Jon wants to hear. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it for the rest of the eternity. But no one will enjoy it more than the name of your house, the one you were supposed to restore and whose only heir is now reduced to a babysitter and a court’s puppet.” He finishes, staring at Jon with contempt. He leans back against the chair and adds. “Good luck when you talk about it with the Queen.” He tossed, and tossed, in the bed, sleep avoiding him like silk dresses to Arya. At one point, he hits the pillow with the back of his head in anger. A sigh escapes his lips, but there’s no one in the room to hear him, not one but Ghost, sleeping in the bear rug next to the hearth. His ears pick up slowly everytime the wind announces itself through the windows. As for Jon, his eyes are fixed on the canopy of the bed for what it seems like an eternity, darkness nestles around his body leaving him as an easy prey for Greyjoy’s early words, which had been following him around all day. He rolls to the side and catches Ghost’s red gloomy eyes staring back at him from below.“What would you do, boy?”He shouldn’t even consider it, for the sole idea of someone taking Robb’s place was utterly mad. It was just Theon and his twisted principles, speaking about human contact as if affections were made and replaced like whores during a night in a brothel. Why are you any different? A voice says. You were born to a family whose bond to a dragon can only be replaced by another just as strong, if you cut off one head then other takes its place. He dismisses it just as quick as it came, knowing it was probably exhaustion. Well, Theon was right about something, at least. He spent fifteen years after the war looking for Robb, holding on to the illusion of seeing him again for Sansa, Arya and Bran. And he knew he wouldn’t even agree to do it if not for the love he held for them. When they were little, he would often go and bring something for them on their birthdays, saying later Robb couldn’t be here but send a gift instead, which always brought a smile to their faces. The eldest Stark had become much like a legend, and he made sure to color the stories of his bravery as best as he could, so their eyes would go big and imagination wild during cold nights. They will have to learn to live with it, he remembered his words. And felt his throat close around a knot, knowing that smile will forever fade from the children’s faces. Yet, he knew there was nothing he could do about it.Nothing he could do. “You never belonged with the Starks. Never. Viserys is waiting for you, Jon. Your family is waiting for you… Waiting for the moment to see your dear Uncle Ned’s head rolling on the floor, to see Sansa raped and murdered like the whore of your mother, or your little Bran, his body still and helpless on a Throne that was too big for him. Yes, that’s a day I look forward to see. And the best part is… you won’t be able to do anything about it. Not this time.” Jon hits the headboard with his knuckles, the raw skin throbbing madly under the assault.“You son of a whore.” He hisses, with such hatred, and rage, Ghost has to spy there isn’t anything hostile lurking in the room. Fifteen years of beating the hell out of Ramsay Bolton weren’t enough. Never enough. No one in the Castle knew but each time his fingers twist in agony when he crawls back to his bed in the middle of the night, it’s because it’s a reminder of what happened the last time he listened to his sick mind games, last time the Bastard of the Dreadfort played with them using twistingly Sam’s unrequired love for his Father. It was his way of making himself immortal, parasitize on weak minds. He would most likely have his tongue removed with hot tongs than fall into the same trick again, but even Jon couldn’t deny… amidst so many lies, and deceptions… Viserys was alive. Breathing, just like him. Your little Bran, he remembers then. This time, it comes to Jon how much this monster knew about them, even after spending fifteen years in the lowest cellars of the Red Keep. Yes, someday, Bran was going to be King. The youngest Stark, just like the rest sans Arya, takes more after his mother than his father. He had been born during a period of peace in the Realm and Jon still sees a world apart between him and his older brother. He was young, and preferred books over swords and archery. He could make a good ruler over a Kingdom which rejoices in peace, but he was no fighter, and he had no cold blood in his veins. If King’s Landing were to suffer the same which befell fifteen years ago, would he lead his men against Viserys? Would he be a man of warfare if it was needed of him, just like his ancestors?His musing is broken up by the scratch of piercing claws along the wooden panes of the door, instinctively, he releases the bed and strides to the window. With a curse falling from his lips, he takes the cloak from the chair and leaves the room with haste.Jon reaches the gardens just in time when the darkest phrase of the night settles in. As he guessed before, the guards were patrolling the battlements of the outer ward, so they obviously missed the cloaked shadow running to the stables, between tall and shadowed trees. He sprints after it, moving silently enough as to not startle it, yet in the last curve he catches a pale elegant arm in his hand and a cry of protest is let out.“Jon, please, let me go—” Was the reply, as the hood falls from its shoulders, revealing a bright red braid of hair into the night.“Sansa—” He struggles with his younger cousin, who tries to push him away as best as she can.“Please, just let me go.” She cries, her face wet, eyes swollen with tears. Jon's heart clenches in his chest. “I can’t stand it anymore.”“And do you think running away it’s going to make it better?”“I don’t care! I’m sick of all this. Of my father, and my mother, and everybody in this damn place.” Sansa hisses, almost slapping his face with her braid.“I’ll talk to your mother. I promise she won’t marry you to anyone you do not desire.” He says as he pulls her into an embrace.“It’s no use, Jon. I’ve already tried.” She sobs as hides her face in his chest. “Why did this have to happen? How can they be so blind? My marriage is a fraud so my new fiancé can challenge my brothers’ claim to the throne and seize it for himself using me.”No one is safe here, Jon thinks as he pulls her against him.“That’s never going to happen.” He cups her face. “I won’t let anyone take the throne from our family ever again. History won’t repeat itself, not while I live.”He had seen too much, had felt too much, when his body was not even bigger than Bran’s. Every night after the rebellion, his head would hear the same songs before sleep came to claim him. Songs in the shape of desperate cries, of thousands arrows filling the night sky, of a raging sea giving up to fire, of steel cutting skin and tendons, of the dream of dawn in a land where no champion ever came in the end. It was the sound he wishes no one ever hear. While the following fifteen years after the war were relatively peaceful, the threat was there just as much as the royal chair standing high and proud in the Throne Room. The color of steel, it was. But he knew the Realm twisted in some somber lands to see it bleed in deep red. “And what if it’s too late?” She asks, her chin tipped up to meet her cousin’s dark eyes. Jon was taller than her, his grip was iron on her arm, afraid if he lets go of her, she might do something stupid. “How many will have to die so they can see what’s going on? If Targaryens want the throne so badly, what’s ever going to stop them?”“They have no power to win the war. Your father made sure of that. Do you really think a man who held the title of King for two days has an army’s reserve behind him? All the ones who raised their arms with him were hanged or beheaded, years ago.”Jon knew it was more of a consolation for him than it was for the girl.“Not all of them. You know that very well. And you know the man who wants to kill my family. Wherever he is now, do you really think he’s satisfied with it? Do you think he’s not waiting for the moment to strike again? I know what the rumors in the Small Council say. I’m only a girl but none of those who sit there fool me. They say he’s licking his wounds in the dark, they say he’s getting stronger by the second, they say you can’t go to Summerhall, not as long as—”“Sansa, you’re not supposed to eavesdrop on the Small Council’s meetings.” Jon sighs though he knows it’s a bit of a poor statement given how he always did exactly that. “That's not your place.” The princess looks away mulishly, her Tully’s temper dawning in her blue eyes though tears are no longer falling. The dark walls find them like that in the middle of the night, and Jon wonders if their duo matches his mother Lyanna and his Uncle, back when she came to warn him of the rebellious menace twenty five years ago. She would be proud of Sansa, if she knew her, he resolves. Her will was fierce, just like Catelyn in her better years. Perhaps, she was the only part that remains of the Queen now. When she decides he’s worthy of her eyes again, there’s something full of accusation behind, and her fingers dig into his forearms like thorns. “It’s not yours either. Why didn’t you leave already, Jon? Nothing is holding you to King’s Landing anymore. Or you don’t want to miss the big wedding?”“Don’t be absurd.” He frowns at her childish behavior, while his arms swing free, preventing a sudden draft of wind from throwing his curls all over his face. “You know I’m here because I care about you, and Arya, and Bran. You’re my family, and I’d do anything to see you happy.”“Yeah…” She mumbles, though her voice is dismissive and icy. Her eyelashes flutter heavily. Her eyes go to the sky. The shape of a bird is seen flying to the rookery at least a hundred feet above. Jon’s grey eyes follow the imaginary line of a black feather landing on Sansa’s palms, while something hollow climbs into her pupils at the touch. She can't escape. Defeated, she wraps the furs around her fragile frame including her chin, only leaving her eyes out.“You care about us so much as to tell us lies.” She finally says, allowing some distance between them. She starts to walk back to Maegor’s Holdfast but stops after a few meters. Jon sees the straight line of her back, the layers of fur hugging her shoulders. The wolf in her wasn’t happy, and Jon can’t blame her for it. Sansa breathes out as if it's carried with great effort. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”Jon's breath hitches. He can’t bring himself to answer that. His mouth is dry, his face unresponsive, bare surprise assaulting his pupils. Sansa doesn’t need anything else.“That’s what I thought.” Then, she leaves. It had taken him at least an hour to get here. King’s Landing is now only a dust mote in the distance, tiny and insignificant, while the pine trail before him opens with each step away from the city. It’s often surly with strangers, curves become knots of impenetrable green, trees close in over his head, rustling their dry leaves in the night. It’s not however, wild to old friends like him. As an invitation to a house full of memories, the body now of a man knows where to duck, or bend whenever the old branches speak, eyes closed, senses wild and awake. This place knows me, after all these years, he thinks, as he let the life forms dip into his skin. Following the footsteps buried in the tides of time, small footsteps in the soft mud, only half human now in a world where the infants’ laugher died a long time ago, he slides further and further. His chest rises with each step, savoring something in the air which unexpectedly makes him feel young and fresh. Time has stopped in this place, everything is frozen right where it was fifteen years ago, caged inside an hourglass as the world outside aged.The old bush with the sweet berries. The soft buzz of the Wendwater. The hoot of a family of owls. The sacred seat of the most ancient trees in the Kingswood. This part is so pristine it’s almost like intrusive to be here, for he had seen how the rebellion had torched the first ring of trees, miles to the North. A part of him is happy this, all this, stayed almost right as he remembered it. Almost. He’s guilty as well, he agrees, for knowingly he should’ve brought Arya, or Bran, or Sansa, to meet the place where he used to play as a child. But, it just wasn’t right. He fears it might all shatter from the eternal dream he had left it in a while ago.His boots crack underneath his feet when he stops right in front of it. His fingers twitch so he brings them up, but abortively he let them down again, and even if it’s too late now, he wonders if he should’ve come here after all. It’s nice, a nice caress, but he had long exiled nice from his life. He breathes nervously, as he lets the dream consume him too. The hard trunk of the tree is broad and wide, obviously it looked far much bigger when he was ten, than now. But Jon’s breath brings mist and life to the secluded place in the thick of forestry, the place where they used to lay their traps between the net of trees to catch sellswords and outlaws. Involuntarily, he smiles, remembering, and remembering, how fun it was. Sometimes he couldn’t just stop laughing or smiling for days, even if it seemed impossible for someone as sullen as himself when little. He allows his mind to divagate, but just a little, for it seems like someone else’s life now. His grey eyes are in the tree now, the one Robb liked best, and he feels a lump in his throat, as his voice dances for the first time in what it feels like an eternity. Something unheard, in a place where everything sleeps. “Hi Robb,” He begins, knowing he was breaking the promise he had made a long time ago. “I’m sorry I haven’t come visit you in a while. I’ve… been busy.”He frowns. The distance is not right, so he takes a couple of steps forward, and the pale pillar of moonlight reveals the creases on the wood, buried under a mantle of lichen, where Robb used to tie the ropes with his little tongue curled over his lip. He feels a wave of desperation, which plays with time and space as if the image on his mind would’ve happened yesterday.“I come here now because I’m afraid I won’t be around for a long time.”Strangely, his own laugh springs from the depths and he turns back to watch his small body as he once was, with his eyes vivid and amused at the sight of two young direwolves throwing into the dirt a large group of adult men. Another laugh joins as well, but Jon tries to keep them at bay, because the past cannot meet the present and see the man he had become now. After a deep breath, his gaze returns to the millenary being before him, but this time, he feels his defenses lost, and pain replaces an impartial grey behind his eyes.“This changes nothing. I’m still going to fulfill the promise I made you a long time ago.” Jon admits, and his hand is moving a little rougher over the lines and fractures on the bark. “I will protect your brother and sisters with my life, with everything I am. I owe you that. And, this is why I’m doing this. For them.”He knows now comes the hard part, so he tears his eyes away. His lips tremble for a split second, he blinks rapidly, forcing his feelings back into place. Though they've been bottled for far, far too long, so much he’s in agony now. Jon looks up. His face is shiny, voice strangled.“I’m…—” He cannot say it. But it was necessary. It was the reason he was here, in the first place. His lids flutter closed with repressed anguish, his chin trembling like that of a boy's over his broken toy. “I’m sorry. I know I’m letting you down, but there’s really nothing else for me to do. I tried, Robb, I really tried to find you—” His voice grows weak with emotion. “And I tried to help your father as best as I could, just like you did when I still believed my mother’s murderer was alive. We used to come here, every night, thinking today is the day, and it never was. I really wish it was different now, but I’m afraid is not, and I cannot… I can’t, I can’t keep living in a fantasy which I know it’s never going to come true.”His palms tightens under his fists.“I hope you can forgive me, one day, because I won’t. Yet, this is something I need to do. For the love you had for your family, and for the love I have for them.”His mouth carries the sharp tang of salt and tears and his throat was dry, just like it'd been during the whole hours he spent alone after his confrontation with Sansa. There, sitting on his bed in the darkness of his room, his headache had been merciless above all measure. Thoughts and thoughts continue to rain on him, the new ones were no better than the last ones. This really was a dead end, and he wonders if was probably the biggest mistake he’ll ever make in his life, if this equals the great idea of running away from the Red Keep in the middle of an invasion, or breaking into a deserted inn to find Sam’s Father, yet the luxury of letting things stay right as they were now is not something he could ever agree with. He had lost his father, his mother, and the most important thing in his life, and he won’t lose another member of his family if the threat of a major conflict was just outside their gates. And even if it means disgracing himself forever, he will find someone to take Robb’s place, just to bring the pieces of a shattered family back together. The laugher of the boys behind him stops, and fades away into the night, into the cobwebs of time, as he hears his own sob, and his own tears falling. After so long. But the words that come next are more defined, clearer even, as the memory of a soft smile under a mane of red curls climbs into his shaken body. And a pair of blue eyes, gentle, and funny, shine when the young voice of a boy irrupts. “Hey, don’t be upset. I promise you we are going to find the man who killed Aunt Lyanna.” “Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you, I promise.” “You idiot.” Jon chuckles, as he tries in vain to stop the tears. “I told you, you never keep your promises.”As his body crouches against the tree’s roots, and the woods become a silent observant, something between the bushes moves, barely, only an inch. Behind him, a shadow approaches silently, breathing heavily against the leaves as it sinks into the dark. The blazing light from its eyes is not red. It’s molten gold. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It was already morning when Jon walks off his cabin, eyes squinting a bit at the sun. He makes his way back up onto deck, nausea just a mild aftertaste now that he's been here for days and the sea's hardened his temper in earnest. He folds his arms down on the railing, the floor hard against his scuffed boots, and rejoices once again in the company of the eastern sky and the soothing chase of waves. The wind blows through his curls, lifts them from his eyes as they land for the first time on the shores of Yunkai, the second largest city in Slaver’s Bay. It’s strange to be in a city so different from King’s Landing. There had been talks about it during drunken nights under the stars, and Jon is sure he knows more of it than he knew the names of this crew Theon had hand-picked himself on their lasts days in the city. And with good reason. These weren’t King’s men or less. A word of their current whereabouts to Jon’s family and he can consider himself dead or worse. He leans on the railing, there's a lull in the wind, in the sound of waves lapping about the ship, and he wonders when did he ever get the chance to feel this peaceful in the past.Yunkai isn’t as large as they’d pictured in their speeches. There’s a good crowd on the port, walking fast-paced across the streets. Jon sees they’re garbed in tokars, most common were green or blue with a golden fringe but the colors blur on the distance. His eyes halt then, fingers digging softly on the thick railing of the ship. A sea of tiled rooftops crowded close around the bay and behind them, Jon sees three pyramids of eight thousand feet each binding the city to the skies. Spilled over Yunkai as a dice game, the pyramids glance down at the rest of the buildings as the sun touches the harpies made of hammered bronze sitting on the tip with their knees drawn up. Jon feels the awareness of how unfamiliar everything seems, and for a moment he forgets why they had come here on the first place.The thought comes tumbling on his head and Jon looks down at his hands then, sees them clench faintly on the scratchy surface. He’d spent the entire journey taking care of Sam, whom as he had known all his life, wasn’t fond of the sea as much as Jon would want him to. A part of him was grateful, for the constant need to take care of his sick friend had been a welcomed distraction, one that kept him from thinking about all this. Now, it was kind of inevitable. There’s a long scratch on his left forearm, edges red against his pale skin, and Jon can’t be sure when he did this to himself, probably their first night on the sea, the day after he’d spilled lie after lie in front of his Uncle Ned’s council table. When he told him he’d planned to go with Theon and help with the capture of Sandor Clegane. The King obviously consented. Whoever had seen Jon’s face their last two sessions on the Small Council would’ve agreed with him after all. And Theon had filled the gaps then, saying it wouldn’t go amiss to seek for any trace of Robb overseas since they were beginning to run out of luck on Westeros. Jon had been glad nothing remotely close landed on his mouth, it was just a tight clench of his jaw and then Ned had said yes with his head, his eyes misty with hope. And he had almost retched when he left the Small Council’s room. Arya spent the whole afternoon knocking on his door but Jon didn’t open, couldn’t bring himself to open. It’s for them, Jon thinks again remorsefully, his grey eyes staring off at the coast. He wasn’t doing this for money, for personal gain, for anything, but his cousins. For the little ones who still believe their older brother was alive even if he no longer did. He fills his lungs with air, skin itching beneath the stubble he’s been carrying for days now. On the streets of Yunkai, he spots a column of slaves marching East, not quite naked but closely so and just behind them, two highborn ride a pair of camels and the heated discussion is about the wars going on in the far Disputed Lands. Sam joins him then. Pale, but just like him, his eyes could hardly leave the woman’s torso, with wings of bats, shinning above the city.“That’s…” He says, his voice drunk with wonder. “Wow.”Jon shoots a sideways glance at him and Sam’s eyes immediately run to join his. “Are you okay?”“Yeah…” Jon says, but his voice suggests all the opposite. “And you?”“I need to get off this ship.” His friend’s brow is glossy with sweat and he cradles two black circles under his eyes. But otherwise, it looked like seeing Yunkai for the first time had sobered him up a little as Jon recognizes the quiet glint under his lids. It means that Sam was fascinated. His lips quirk up at the corners.“Is Theon done?” Jon throws a look over his shoulder. The Ironborn was conferring with the captain of a ship close to their own, their voices loud over the rumble going on abovedeck. There was a few number of galleys and ships like theirs lining up the quay and Jon glimpses the only one which was on their starboard, its sails sharp against the sun.Sam shakes his head. “He’s asking when Yezzan zo Qaggaz will hold the feast of tonight in the golden pyramid of Qaggaz.” He’s looking over his shoulder as well, squeezing his eyes hard in the attempt to understand Theon’s dreadful High Valyrian.Jon sighs loudly. His big shoulders slouch against the railing and he doesn’t look happy. “I guess keeping a low profile was too much to ask.”“Oh, you know how he can get.” Sam brushes his elbow against Jon’s, eyes sympathetic. “Are you sure you’re okay, Jon? I’m kind of worried about you.”Jon just gives him a look full of wordless pain. “I’m just—” He stops, shuts his eyes hard. When he opens them again a flicker of sadness courses fast across them. “I’m committing treason.” He whispers softly. He’s not speaking to Sam, words just tumble out on their own and more to himself, if he’s honest. He sighs hollowly. “Against a family I love as own.” “You’re not committing treason.” Sam says fast, trying to catch Jon’s face with his eyes. “You’re trying to bring a family back together.”With a man who’s not Robb. “Look,” Sam says again. “It will be over soon, I promise you. Once we find him, we’ll sail back home as soon as possible and you won’t even know it happened.” “Sorry, lad. With the Wise Masters, that’s highly unlikely.”Both Jon and Sam still, then look up at the same time. Jon had barely noticed the giant of a man standing on the ship next to theirs, his giant body resting on the railing just less than two meters of width between both vessels, and apparently he’s been listening to their conversation just recently. He was a head taller than him, flecked face, ginger hair, wearing old steel plate and chainmail, and his sword which Jon sees over his shoulder is worthy of a knight. Jon stares at him strangely, with the strong feeling he should’ve known that bruised face, but it wasn’t until the big man produced a wineskin with a faint whiff of Sweet Red to it that his own eyes widen in revelation. “You’re Ser Rolly Duckfield, from the Reach.” He says. “You were there when—”“When Renly lost his life, yes.” The knight nods, as he regards Jon and Sam with a gentle smile. “But call me Duck. It’s a surprise to find you both here. The last time I saw you…”“Was at the tourney in King’s Landing.” Jon says quickly. “Robb and I weren't of age to gamble, but we saw you on the lists and we did it anyway using Robert's name. He was quite cross afterwards.”“I think I heard that story before.” Duck pats his sword and his eyes soften while studying the young dark-haired boy. There’s a trace of pride as he speaks again. “You’ve grown, Jon.” But it quickly fades away, and he shuts his eyes, clouded in remorse. “I’m sorry about him.”Jon tears his eyes away delicately, the smile dying on his lips. “It’s been a while since the last time I was on the Capitol. Heard the King is not doing so well these days.” Duck says again and hums sadly, eyes travelling to the far corners of the city. “I think even less now that I see his nephew’s here.” He quirks one eyebrow at Jon. “Can I ask why I found you both so far from home?” Both Sam and Jon look at each other. “I’m sorry, but we can’t really tell you.” Sam says first. “We’re here on the King’s leave and he bid us to keep this private.”“Really?” The knight throws his head back. The wind gently brushes his bright hair off his forehead. “Alright. I won’t ask, but whatever it is you’re doing I’m afraid it won’t be as easy as you first thought.”“Why?” The brunette frowns. “You said something about the Wise Masters.”“Aye. Wars are quite… fashioned here in Essos these days, and their appetite for young Westerosi blood like yours is something they often can’t bring themselves to ignore.” Duck fingers his orange beard, and looks at Jon as the adult he’d become. With a smirk, he knows there will be no qualms between the slavers when they have their eyes on him, the same way he does now, since a fighter with that much of a muscle is not often seen these days in Yunkai. He tears his eyes away, and nods at the ominous pyramids which screen the city in the distance. “I suppose you know whom they belong to?”“The Wise Masters.” Jon says foolishly. He knew he should’ve picked a book or two before coming here, read something about their history.Duck chuckles. “Yeah, I imagined that. Truth is, each family here is as different as day and night. Sons all to the same Mother but it’s a mistake to think this will hold them back on the arena.” And then his eyes darken, smoothened into contemplation. “At least it never did since the founding of the city itself, many hundreds years ago. Families of old litter Yunkai’s cradle, and one cannot deny they’re as rich and cunning as the days of the Empire, because the games they hold, games of blood and murder, the craze of the crowds, is the thing that keeps them fresh. A leech which feeds on the blood of the weakest to offer it in sacred tradition to the highborn.” He draws in air, nostrils flapping with the soft specks of sea salt in it. Duck had so many scars Jon wonders if one was a fast fateful performance on the very Pits of Yunkai, as a man in need of coin would do if the fame of the games were to be believed. But Duck’s eyes were graying at the sides, his big shoulders sag and Jon feels a sourness in the bigger man he really can’t put his finger on. “I’d tell you to leave this place at once, but you’re already here.” Duck says, unhappily.“We’ll be fine, Duck. I promise.”“Aye, it’s just—” He huffs out, and now he looks worried. “I just think you don’t know all that is to know about this place. The things that happen here.”“I know about House Qaggaz.” Jon says. “And House Yunz—”“Yunzak, yes.” Duck runs a hand across his freckled face, then removes it tiredly and gives a nod at one of the pyramids, the one in the centre. Second in size, and far more bronzed than its sisters. “There you have it.” He says with a bite in his speech.Jon watches it in silence, the sea breeze riffling through his hair.“That’s where he lives?”“The biggest son of a bitch of this city, yes. Second richest after Yezzan, of course. But he’s not worried about that. His coffers are swollen with gold for other reasons.” A chill runs in Duck’s voice.And really, Jon was just confused at this point. He knew where he was getting himself into. After all, there was nothing here that could scare him beyond the horrors he had lived through his childhood. And Yurkhaz zo Yunzak, well he was a slaver. You can’t expect negotiations to go on smooth and easy.“Should I ready myself for slaves with notched hilts, one for every kill?” He asks sarcastically.But Jon found out neither Sam nor Duck laugh at his intended joke. They were both watching him gravely, Sam with a fretful gaze and Duck, still and gaunt.“Do you know the story, Jon? The story of his House?” Duck asks, tactfully. He leans against the railing and Jon finds conflict rising behind his lids. The tension sliding from the humps of his shoulders and down the long stiff line of his arms. “House Yunzak is known on this side of the world as the House of Champions. Men of legend, but also,” And then, he pulls back, straightening his back. “All shared our blood. They were all from Westeros.”“What?” Jon looks at him in disbelief. He flicks his eyes back to Sam. “Sam, you knew?”“Yeah, I kind of read about it. It’s a folktale actually, a very popular one here in Slaver’s Bay.” Sam says, nodding severely. He clears his voice. “This House in particular had won thrice the Primus, the ‘Main Event’ in gladiatorial games. If a gladiator fails to gain the crowd’s favor, he's forced to perform on the noon fights, where there's nary a person in the stands. The Primus though, the Primus is the people’s thrill and the very closure of the Games. From The Great Masters in Meereen to The Triarch of Volantis people flood the streets with the anxiety to watch the last pair perform, and when it happens, the city is not the same.” Sam blocks his eyes from the sun, and looks outwards. There’s a dark grey swelling over the roofs of the city, shadowed and faint. “It is said that savage nature excites people here. Our kind… They seem to believe a legend exists, one that says we can’t be killed. Not like men.”“Nine Stars, that’s the name of the legend.” Duck says, staring at Jon intensely. His face hardens. “It’s been whispered in the halls of House Yunzak for a century almost. It tells the story of nine champions. Nine champions bonded by savage blood who will build a new era of gladiators inside these walls, showing the fierceness in battle of the lockstep legions of Old Ghis and the Empire itself.”“Nine champions?” Jon blinks.“Well, Yurkhaz zo Yunzak is known for purchase slaves mostly from Westeros and, so far, all his Champions were our countrymen. But that doesn’t mean the legend is in fact, true. Yezzan zo Qaggaz also built a long tradition of victories over his years as ruler, and his slaves have stripped out bones of our kin as well. You know what they say. Gossips are the truest Masters in a city of gladiators. Anything to keep the people’s minds occupied and their spirits lifted.”“But you knew them.” Jon says, staring back at Duck. “You knew some of these champions, right?”Duck tightens his jaw, but doesn’t meet his eyes. “I’ve only known two back on the days when I was younger. The Bear…” He says, in a distant voice. “A northern fellow. One of the best in Duoquor. He was purchased by a Free Company a long time ago. And Harry.”“Harry Strickland?” Jon asks, perplexed. “The leader of the Golden Company?”“Yeah, old Harry. He won the title from a fool named Hyrpoon the Hero. Sadly, though, he faced the Shadow of Death next. No man who ever faces the Shadow of Death lives. Harry did, but the wounds of the fight never healed properly on his body. He was granted freedom and fled to the Disputed Lands. Those were fights of renown.” Duck lets out a soft sigh and glances back at Jon and Sam. “If you wish to attend the games, it’s Duoquor’s Pit where you should go. Trust me, it’s not hard to find. But I had to warn you.” His eyes darken again, especially when they’re joint with Jon’s. “Yurkhaz is not the man you think he is. He’s a man of power. To seek an audience with him is to seek trouble. He probably knows you’re coming to him with a net of spies as big as his.” Air gushing out of lungs, he spins and strides to the main deck. His boots crack as he walks and gestures at the group of young squires to assist him with his sword and traveling cloak, before descending. But then, he spins again and gaze back at Jon one last time. “You’re an adult now, Jon. I trust you know what you’re getting yourself into.”Somehow, Jon has the feeling it won’t be that long since the next time they see each other. He sighs, as he watches the big knight mixing in with the milling crowd. Yes, there was no turning back, now. “Do you know I have a ship?”Jon’s brain was swimming with the glasses of wine he had emptied since the three of them sat together on a table in the common hall. Well, at least it appears like a common hall.Soft Yunkish velvet curtains were dimming the entrance to the line of rooms on Jon’s right, and if he looks out the window, a slash of light is seen through the glass, coming from a red glowing oil lamp swung on a heavy chain beside the door.Some foreign captain had pointed them into this place. The city had earned its reputation and while some tales proved to be only a myth, the others of an economy based on bed slaves turned to be quite real. Every alley and crossroad was all about women and men prowling for custom, and even when they weren’t looking, Jon had felt their sideway glances at them, their soft gasps trying to lure them in with a crooked finger. It was hard to keep Theon from tackling the owners of pleasure houses as they walked, but harder still to elbow Sam when he stared without any finesse at the slaves on the streets, something which was highly liable to be punished for. And they didn’t come here to be in the eye of the storm. Duck recognized them at the ship and that was as far as Jon desire to go. If word arrives to the King about his nephew buying a slave from the fighting pits of Yunkai… He can’t imagine what could happen to him.The inn was filled with Lhazarene and Free Cities visitors, along with Qartheen, ebon-faced Summer Islanders, and of course, the sons of the harpy, descendants of the ancient folk of Ghis. And Jon notices the only time they’re willing to let go of their whips was when gamble roared in their tables, all of them screaming for the pit fighter’s names they’d placed in their wagers. Behind them, slave girls walk about with flagons of wine in their hands and Sam almost falls from his chair in the attempt catch a better look at them. Theon downs his own tankard of ale amusingly enough to make the girl on his lap giggle at him.“The King of the Spices has ships.” She says, her fingers buried in Theon’s sandy curls. Jon can't see the movement of her hand behind his friend's wild mass of scruffy hair. “He came to Yunkai two moon’s turns ago, did you know?”Theon smirks. “Heard that, Jon?” He says, a flush already creeping up his neck. His hand curls on the girl's waist. “You're not the only royal arse around here.”The girl looks back at Jon curiously and Jon swears he’d never wanted to kill Theon more than he does now. “Royal?” She asks.“Exiled lords, he means.” Sam says quickly, an easy smile flits past his mouth. Jon’s anger is reined back in with her quiet gasp of bare surprise. “We met the King’s justice and we were forced to wander across the world as payment for our crimes.”“You don’t look like exiled lords.” She says, flicking her almond eyes between Theon and Sam, eyeing Jon lastly. She stops, then, locks her gaze with Jon's as if she hadn't seen him before. “You don’t look like an exiled lord.” She shifts on Theon’s lap. “Master Yurkhaz zo Yunzak has a few fighters like you. But I suppose it’s not the kind of life you’re looking for. You were a lord.”“A lord from the North.” Jon lies, though he supposes it’s not entirely false, since his mother was from Winterfell. “And that’s a kind of life only a few will find attractive also.” She smiles, while he says. “Have you seen his slaves fight before?”“Yes.” The girl nods, eyes lighting up. Theon yawns and blinks in boredom. “There’s nothing that excites men more than blood after all.” She stares at Jon, one knuckle grazing lazily over the tabletop. “Will you be attending the games tomorrow, my Lord?”“What is there to see tomorrow?”“Nothing of note, but the price is suitable if you find yourself with no coin left to spare.”“And Yurkhaz zo Yunzak.” Jon asks. “Is he going to be there?”The girl gives him a long careful look. Jon can feel his heart pounding in his ears, his hands curled tightly in front of him. He spent hours thinking how to break words with a slaver from Essos, how to push his need into his scales and hope for the best, how to approach him after all he heard from Duck’s mouth. Yunkai was far bigger than he thought at the beginning and they were only three. If they really wanted to make this work, then there wasn’t other choice but to attend the games as guests interested in the market. It’ll be easier in the end, not to mention respectful. But he really has no desire to watch men killing themselves in battle. “Are you interested in making business with him?”“I don’t know who can help me with that, though. I jus— I mean, we just got here today.”Slowly, she untangles herself from Theon and shows her forearm at Jon. The tattoo was dark across her skin, it showed a harpy with a whip on one talon and an iron collar on the other, the symbol of Old Ghis. Jon could see the edges of the harpy’s eyes very smoothly even in the dimness of the hall. “If you want to speak with Master Yurkhaz zo Yunzak in person, you need to find Missandei. She runs his affairs in his place.” The girl says over the men’s silence. “Her symbol is very similar to mine, only the harpy she has holds a whip and a thunderbolt on each talon instead of an iron collar. It’s the symbol of House Yunzak.”“Missandei…” Jon whispers quizzically. “And do you know whe—?”“What the fuck…” But Theon is spilling his cup, watching with wide eyes as the girl clamps a hand on Jon’s mouth, her expression is fretful and worried. The whole place had gone terribly quiet. Jon’s eyes sweep around. All he sees are shoulders hunched over drinks and heads bent. The lasts notes of music hang in the air before fading behind a tense curtain of silence.“What’s happening?” Sam asks. “Just stay still and you’ll be fine.” The girl says.They were already inside the inn before Jon could ever raise his eyes from the table. The air shifts, and the gentle breeze which was stirring the velvet curtains, spicing the night with gentle aromas, died unexpectedly. Jon feels three, maybe four. Against his better judgment, he looks out at the door. Three Unsullied were barring the way wearing helms of bronze topped with a sharpened pike, and in their hands, six-foot spears of hardwood. For a moment, nothing but their rattling breaths manifested. They stood still, sweeping their eyes of icy shards across the hazy room while gasps of air were heard amidst the clientele. This happens often, Jon thinks quickly, but he doesn’t take his eyes away from them nor shows any desire to. He breathes in deeply, and waits.But the Unsullied’s eyes stop on a man with a heavy cloak on their left, cowering on his seat.“This one.” The captain says, coldly. Two broke formation then, and seized the startled man by his arms as he squirms and fights.His cries mingled with the rattle of armor and he was dragged outside by the troop of eunuchs, leaving behind the imprints of his boots onto the ground. The doors sway after the last one, and Jon hears how things carry on around him as if nothing had happened.“What did he do?”“Nothing.” The girl says, huskily. “Men are chosen randomly here. Gladiators are too expensive for that.” And then, she’s shivering, her eyes downcast.“Expensive for what?” Theon asks, but the question was rhetoric in Jon’s mind.He found himself burying his fingers on both his palms, his knuckles are starkingly white against the wooden table. He wants to get up, run away as fast as he can from this city. He can’t, though. Missandei, he thinks. Whatever happens, he needs to cling to that name. Even if it’s the last thing he ever does. An hour later, Jon leaves Sam sleeping in the room they both share as he walks out to the balcony on the first floor.Theon was with the girl of course, washing down the last bitter taste of the night. Looking outwards into the distance, Jon’s chest rises with a breath. The darkness was thick and he couldn’t see very well past the line of his shoulders, though the wine was also to blame for that, yet the moonlight was providing the right, dim light, which declined on the faces of the great pyramids distantly and bathed the peninsula. From this distance, they look like incense burners, if not even smaller. His breath crashes against the night air, cold and spicy, and the angle of his elbows is sharp when he leans on them. He’s not sure if he wants to go to his room again and miss this. A part of his heart feels a flow of sensibility all of the sudden, as he wonders if Summerhall will ever look as beautiful as this during nighttime.He tilts his chin up, and now, he’s watching a sky blanketed in stars, some hiding behind the Ghiscari’s antiquities and others just looking down at him. Are his parents there? He wonders. Do they think he’s doing the right thing?“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”Jon turns around, and sees Theon's girl joining him, a shy smile flitting across her pretty face as she copies his stance.“I thought you were with—”“Your friend? He fell asleep.” She cocks her head to the side and if she is dissapointed for that, she’s not showing it. “Doreah, that’s my name. Would you be telling me yours or are you going to lie again?”“I don’t know what you are talking about.”“I know you lied about being who you are.” Doreah says. “But I guess that’s okay. I don’t know a single man who came to Yunkai and enjoyed talking about his past.”“You must know quite a bit about them.” Jon chuckles, his shoulders are a slight hunched to make room for her. “Just like you knew Theon was a fast sleeper.”She blushes, though it’s so dark outside it’s hard to tell. Her face is hidden from him behind her dark braid of hair, and she ventures a couple of stares up to catch his handsome face. “Do you think he’ll be angry when he finds out I’m here with you?”“He will.” Jon admits, thinking with a sigh on his friend’s angry face. He’s not smiling, when he says. “But he had many reasons to be mad at me before. I don't think this one matters now.”Doreah looks up at him, her face twisted into surprise. She glances, then, at his tensed white knuckles, close to her own hands.“What happened today… I’ve known men who balked in fear, I’ve seen them wet their breeches, when they witnessed the same thing you did today.”Jon gives her a thin smile. “I’ve seen worse.” And truly, he had. The world would never know just how much.Her laugh is sudden and startling. “I guess it’s true what they say about your people.” Licking her lips, her eyes travel down to the bruises peeking from his knuckles and she stares at them with a little more than mild appreciation. “I didn’t notice it from your friends, but you…” Her hands reach out, fingertips brushing over the puckered skin of hundred hits, and Jon widens his eyes at her. Doreah also stares back at him, eyes shining wantonly through the dark. “You’ve killed someone before, haven’t you?”Gently, Jon removes his hands from hers. There’s a small twitch in his jaw when he gazes onwards into the night. “I’ve seen death before, when I was a boy.” He admits, voice hard and even. “It’s hard to believe someone would take pleasure just by watching it.”“Is it?” Doreah brushes a lock of hair off her cheek. She’s trying to hit a nerve on him with her stray gazes and demure smiles. “In this city, we—”“But, this is not my city.” Jon’s voice rises a bit, and holds an edge of warning to it. He turns around to look at her. “I’d rather make myself scarce around your people, if I can help it. I’m not here to fight in the Pits.”The corners of her lips drop and she takes a step back from him, shoulders pushed back, chin held high. There’s a streak of irony shining darkly in the dim of her eyes. “You came here looking for Yurkhaz zo Yunzak.” She says. A dry laugh surges between them. “Make yourself scarce? You’ll have better luck swimming back home through the Narrow Sea.”Jon tenses. The winds cards through his curls, blows them over his eyes, and a drop of sweat rolls down his neck. Perhaps she was right. He did come here after a man, a dangerous man that is, and he had no idea how things will play out for them from now on. Running a hand through his hair, he looks out to the city.“It’s getting cold. We should get inside.”“Enjoying the romantic date?” Jon’s eyes cut back to the door. Theon was standing there, locked in the doorway with a scowl on his face.Jon blinks at him. “What are you talking about?”“Don’t play with me.” Theon sways from one side to the other, his eyes, red-rimmed and unfocused. He lets out a bitter laugh. “I was the one who brought you here, remember? And, all for what? So you can steal me my night?”Jon frowns. Pushing away from Doreah, he faces Theon and notes even if the Ironborn was leaner than him, he still looks ready to come to swords. His anger peaked when sees, with a drop of his gaze, Doreah clutching Jon's side, looking cool and unruffled about men's wounded egos. “Listen, Theon. It’s not what it looks like. You know me better than this.”“Oh, do I?” Theon bristles visibly and the look he gives Jon is scathing. His hand flies out to the door handle. “It's not the first time someone runs to your arms when it's supposed to be with someone else, after all.” There was something bitter about Theon's eyes, Jon could not quite place what it was between the angry flutter of his lashes. He tried to explain himself again, even if in honesty he didn't know why Theon was so upset. He backs away from Doreah, and steps forward, closer, but Theon snaps and slams the door on his face.Great, Jon thinks, sighing. Just what he needed. “Jon!” Smoke. He sees smoke everywhere. He’s not a man, now, but a boy. Fearful, whimpering, scared. The wind, he thinks with haste. When the wind comes, it will scatter the ashes, the rubble, and the fire. The wind blows, but the flames only leap higher. They’re laughing. Same as this laugh. A laugh he couldn’t get off of his head. It was high, cynical, destructive. It belongs to a man, a blonde general, a torturer, who sits in the shadows and looks down on him, as he’s been doing for some time now. From lives ago. The King is no more. “Jon!” The voice again. Jon knows it. “Robb?” He asks, turning around. He sees nothing. Only darkness. “Robb!” He yells again. “Turn back! Please! My son is still there!” “I can’t! The fire is too aggressive.” “You can’t leave him!” He hears his voice again. “He’s alive! I know he is! Turn the boat back now!” He’s not dead. The words die in his throat, a single tear sliding from one of his eyes. He takes a deep breath and braces himself to jump but Jon Arryn grips his arm first, his eyes sorrowful, his eyes saying Jon will die as well if he jumps. And Jon's world just gives in then, shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. “Let me go! Please! He’s still out there! I won’t leave him!” They had to let him go. He tries, fights and curses, but the old man holds him in his place with a miserable look in his eyes. Why? Why did they give up on him? “Please… I won’t leave him… Robb… Robb…” “Robb!” Jon wakes up, drenched in sweat, his breath uneven and wild in the middle of the dark.He sits on the bed, the sheets pooling about his waist as his chest rises with quick little breaths. The shutters are closed, and the door too, yet the faint sound of lutes and fiddles from the earlier distractions on the Hall float in the air still, bringing him back to the present in his shared room, on his bed. Sam snores next to him, loud and unconcerned, and Jon feels the last frissons of his tension seeping out. Dipping his head, he tries to tame the wild thing which strikes within him every time he dreams and dreams again. His hand is already poking about in the sheets for Ghost, to thread his fingers on his cozy white fur so he doesn’t have to work too hard but like acid thrown at his face, he remembers he’s in Yunkai. He remembers Ghost is not here.He should’ve known. After all, Ghost was always there to keep the nightmares at bay, yet now… He bites in a curse forming at the pit of his stomach, which always follows when he finds out it’s another dream. It’s another useless dream. Sam’s eyes were wide and fascinated as he drinks in the sight of Duoquor's Pit, Yunkai's colossal son standing one hundred and fifty seven foot tall at the centre of the city. It was the second largest in Essos, after Daznak's Pit, and it lives up to its fame across the world.Stone and granite blocks, dug hard onto a hillside, speak of the greatness of builders of old, and Sam fiddles with the idea maybe some giant from their own tales beyond the Wall had hurled them to place while the construction was in its course. The arcades from the first floor were framed with half columns, while the higher ones had statues of the Ghiscari deities, made in stone and bronze, all imaginary from the same pantheon of Gods the Ghiscari worship from ageless times. The façade was stunning from the outside, and Sam really can’t wait to see how it is on the interior, if the books do ever justice to the might of gladiators' fights, of the courage and valor shown once on stage. His head sticks out from the crowds, looking like an impatient child, ready for a treat.Jon stands besides Sam, less keen to go inside than his friend. He’s still nursing a headache from the night before, but Theon was not here, still upset with that happened the night before, and Jon's apathy knows no end.They had barely looked at each other as they broke their fast together at the inn this morning. Theon hadn’t believed a single word about what really happened with Doreah, how all of it was a misunderstanding, and how Jon had not even purchased any kind of company for that night. He even tried to offer apologies, all to no use. Theon had left early, moody and bitter, not trusting himself to be next to Jon for a couple of hours, yet he did say he was going to meet them at the games. The sun was high on the sky, and still no sight of Theon. The crowd scattered when Yezzan zo Qaggaz’s procession arrived. The slaver himself sat inside his colossal palanquin languidly, his body hidden behind thick awnings and a throng of slaves carrying the poles forth. Behind his escort, came a long column of body slaves, flush and strong bodies, whose eyes miss out nothing going on on the crowd.Jon forces his eyes to stay even and, body swelling with stamina, he feels how the fever for combat builds in. It's still dormant, but he knows it won't stay that way for too long.“They look like they’re having a bad day, Jon.” Sam whispers in his ear.Jon purses his lips, and nods. “Look, I think that’s Yurkhaz zo Yunzak.” Sam points his finger at the other end of the street.A great tail of escorts, guardsmen, concubines, kinsmen and slaves came streaming behind another palanquin, this one absent gladiators. The Yunkish seem to mind little, the drums pound hard enough to drive them out from their terraces or choke the streets to its meeting as the parade goes on. The generals were riding forward and lashing their horses repeatedly, but yelps and cries also weren't unheard of when a blow strayed from the beast's back and bit into the slaves' flesh. There's a weight in Jon's heart when he sees them, some of them were only boys Bran's age. He pushes his gaze back to the giant slaver's transport and notes it was now being laid down onto the street, the sun making the roof gleam like gold.Sam was walking backwards on the tip of his toes when he runs into someone. He bends at the waist quickly. “I’m… I’m so sorry—”“It’s okay. I actually was looking for you.” The voice says, gently. Both Sam and Jon turn at the same time. The girl was pretty and young, probably their age, but her accent was alien to Jon. Eyes big and brown, dusky skin, and a round smiling face, Jon finds her so similar to Sansa, he can’t really give credit to his eyes. Her hair is short and beautiful, and hides partly the bronze collar nestled on her neck, but a bruise or two spring into view as well. Also, Jon notes there’s a tattoo on her left shoulder. The harpy of Yunkai, with talons each cradling a leash and a thunderbolt. The word lands on his tongue automatically. “Missandei?”Her grin was wide. “Word came of your arrival to our sweet city and I was told to come and greet you in the name of our House.” She places both hands over her collarbone. “This one is Missandei, humble server of Yurkhaz zo Yunzak, Wise Master of the city of Yunkai. I hope the journey hasn’t tired you, my Lords.”Jon looks at Sam, then, at her again. “No, actually. It was fine.”“I’m glad to hear that, my Lo—”“Jon.”“Jon.” She smiles again. “Our House is a House of renown here in Yunkai. Today we celebrate the noon fights for in a fortnight the biggest event here, the Games of Ghis, will be given life as it’s been done every year. My Master offers his clients gladiators of power and name, some of them will have the honor of fighting today, representing House Yunzak against other Houses.” And then, she’s extending her hand at them. The other, on the back of her body, gesturing at the colossal palanquin which awaits in the middle of the street. “Please, if you’d be so kind to join us. You will watch the games on Master Yurkhaz’s box with plenty of food and drinks for your enjoyment.”Jon nods, He looks at Sam first, his eyes flashing concern.“Sam, I'll go by myself. I want you to stay here and wait for Theon.”Sam frowns. “But, Jon. We don't know this man. We don't know anyone but ourselves here! It might be dangerous.”“I know.” Jon sighs. “You heard what Duck said though. We can't risk it. Besides, I'm worried about Theon. The fool's going to get himself in trouble if he's wandering across the city on his own.” Jon's brow furrows. “He should know better after what happened the last time.”Sam looks down at his feet. “It— It won't happen again. I'll find him.”Jon gives him a sad smile. “Thanks Sam.”“Promise me you'll stay safe, Jon. Whatever happens.”Jon grips his friend’s shoulder, gives him a look. Then, he follows Missandei across the broad street.Sam watched him go and his eyes flit back to the walls of Duoquor's Pit, its shoulders etching a giant shadow onto the streets and the people. A shiver works hard across his body and Sam swings his eyes around. There're at least thousands faces coming at him.None of them was Theon's. When he climbs the steps, Jon has a feeling he’s being watched by half the city. He swallows, stills his knees. He’s standing before the sumptuous door, which Jon wrongly suspects is solid silver. When he knocks once, the door opens in a narrow angle. The compartment was small and dim-lit, and provides a fair amount of cushions and pillows, styling some old faded battles from the glories of the Old Empire of Ghis and the yoke. Yurkhaz himself is stretched across his divan, sipping from a golden goblet with two tattooed slaves flanking him on each side. He’s wearing a tokar of maroon silk with fringed gold, and his sharp kohl-rimmed eyes follow Jon, interest is there, well, that was plain to see. He was a slender man, tall, with wisps of dark hair curling against his jaw, and a long nose. “Master Yurkhaz.” Jon bows to him and Yurkhaz waves his jeweled hand.“None of that.” He says, flashing an unnerving smile at him. “You’re my guest here. I would not have asked Missandei to bring you if I did not think of us as equals.”Jon bites his lip, his feet shuffle along the floor. “I guess she told you then.”“Hardly.” Yurkhaz shifts, sits and offers Jon a place next to him. “But I have my ways to track you, find out what you seek from me and why did you travel so far to get it. I must confess I could hardly wait to meet you, Lord of Westeros.”Jon breathes out slowly, without really knowing what to say.“I must apologize for the inconvenience.” Yurkhaz says again, shooting Jon a long studious look. “My office is the place where I conduct business of this kind. I am a man of tradition, though. And attending the Games, however small and insignificant, is a law I hold dear, as my forefathers did before me. A gladiator needs to see its Master there before delivering the killing blow. So the whole city can bear witness who is the real author behind such impressive feat.”He fingers his smooth, copper chin, and when Jon sits, his eyes trace the size of his biceps. “Is this your first time on the Pits?”“I---Yes.” Jon fights the urge to scratch the back of his neck. Don’t be a coward, he thinks.“Are you sure?” Yurkhaz’s dark eyes are burning through him. “I could swear I—” And then, he’s humming quietly, the thought rolling on the tip of his tongue. “I swear I have seen you before. Your face is— familiar.”“I heard there were many of us on this city.”“Oh.” The Master shifts in his seat, amused. One of his slaves approaches Jon with a goblet of wine, and its sweet persimmon aroma floods Jon’s senses. As he reaches to grab it, Yurkhaz follows his hand with a joyful gleam on his eyes. He smiles slyly around the rim of his glass, watching as the liquids sloshes around its body.“Let us enjoy the Games today. Tomorrow, I’ll have you and your friend at the Great Pyramid of Yunzak. My wares of gladiators, as the whole city knows, are there at your disposal. Ample choice for your appetite if you wish for a body slave, a bedwarmer, a poison tester, or else. I’m sure they’ll all probe their value to you.” Jon looks down at his drink, then outwards, at the rose-colored tile of the palanquin and the yellowed-glassed windows. But Yurkhaz’s feet fall to the floor and when he seeks Jon’s gaze again, something a bit like curiosity courses through his eyes. “You’ve heard of the legend, I take?”Jon swallows. “Yes.”“Well.” Yurkhaz leans back again, a smile flitting across his thin lips. “I stand before a man who has seen it all. It doesn’t surprise you, then?”“I’ve never heard of nine champions. I’m not interested in that.” Jon looks away then, his jaw working a little. He draws in a slow uneven breath. “What do you tell the little boys you purchase all around the world? That they could become heroes, their names etched forever on this legend of old? Or do you tell them they’re going to die?” His eyes are a bit contemplative now as they skitter away and around the room. “A battered boy dragged into slavery would fear anything that’s out there waiting on the Pits. But his mind is still tender, prone to believe in glory and battle, even if his body does not join him on this belief. Nine Stars sounds better. If he had any doubts to die for you, to give his life for your House, then I’m sure he doesn’t after hearing how comely it sounds with his name on it.” And then, his gaze drifts back to the Master’s shadowed one. “Was I wrong?”But the answer is lost between the boughs of laugher which fill the room. “Well,” Yurkhaz says shrilly, showing a row of white teeth at him. “You’re rather good with words. Good even for a squire of Westeros who is not interested in legends.” Jon falls back too onto his seat. “You saw the House I’m up against today?”“House Qaggaz.” Jon says stiffly. “Yes.” Yurkhaz presses his lips together, his fingers digging onto the soft fabric of the divan. “The Yellow Whale. Yezzan zo Qaggaz is an old name here in Yunkai.” And then, he’s twisting his face into a frown. “Seeing his slaves prancing on the streets is like seeing a chest of treasures and grotesquerie, foul and witless giants who stir the crowds with thoughtless abilities and don’t live very long. My House is different. I’m not interested in strength, I’m only interested in men who don’t fear death. If a simple legend can give me that, a fretful squire raised to a name of esteem and respect, then I’m sure it’s one worthy to be heard and feared.”Jon listens in silence, his eyes studying Yurkhaz with edginess. Everything they’d said about this man was true and worse. His heart thrums with worry, he had laid out his thoughts to Yurkhaz and he really didn’t know what to do with this feeling of uneasiness surging within him.“I must say, you’re quite different than I expected.” And then, Yurkhaz was gazing into him again, trying to lure more secrets up to the surface. One of his hands stretches wide on his thigh, close to Jon’s own. “Prettier, I think.” Jon’s breath thins while the Master laughs again. He looks at Jon sharply. “Ser Barristan must have taught you well.”Air catches on Jon’s throat. “You— You know—?”Yurkhaz smiles. “Barristan the Bold, we call him here. His name's legend across Slaver's Bay. And I would’ve recognized his foolish idealisms in anyone I came across. He always said legends were for fools. But the first moment I saw you, you didn’t strike me as a fool.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, his body relaxing against the softness of his plush velvet seat. “Perhaps I’m rushing into things but… I see a bond between you two.” His eyes slide back to Jon’s, a fire burning dimly between his lids. “The world might not be as big as one think it is.”Jon holds his eyes firmly. His mouth's turned down at the corners. “You’re wrong.” He says but stops right there. He doesn’t know why, but the nerves inside of him flare up, more now that he’s alone with this man. He feels exposed, vulnerable, and if he’s not careful, Yurkhaz might find out more things about him than Jon is willing to tell. And then, Yurkhaz places two fingers over his lips, the fierceness thickens in his eyes. A fall of black hair tumbles over his face, he brushes it off over one ear. “Watch the games with me, then.” Yurkhaz whispers, then sits back on his seat. He looks away out the window, eyes catching the sea of faces rolling past outside. Jon doesn’t like this. The bad feeling was a gaping hole now on his chest, but it was too late to turn back now. It was too late to run.As the palanquin kicks into motion again, the games almost upon them, Jon braces himself, sinks into the seat. He can’t help but wonder what they were thinking to come here on the first place. “Theon! Theon! Where are you?”Sam drops his arms back to his sides, eyes looking out helpelessly around the place.He had never seen so many people in his life, all men and women attired in robes and tokars of bright joyful colors. But his knees ache with exhaustion and his shoulders too. Duoquor’s Pit was three times bigger than Sam had thought at the beginning. The pit was wide and ample. Yellow sand ran from one side to the other, coiling upwards into fingers of dust when a light breeze came sweeping in. His eyes shoot upwards and Sam runs them all the width of the arena, never in his life he had felt so small. From where he was standing, he sees a grand brick bowl ringed by descending tiers of benches, and a rising crowd slowly pushing in through the gates. On the first level, the Masters’ boxes had their seat, as did nobility and envoys from different parts of the world, their servants and slaves closely in tow. Sam couldn't see the upmost floor, but he has a feeling he will nonetheless, if he enjoys climbing long stairs.Jon would be furious with him, Sam thinks. He was supposed to wait for Theon outside the gates, at least that's what they both had agreed to last time they saw each other. But Sam stood there for a good amount of time, fighting off the heat with scant success, skin raw and bruising already under the scorching sun, and he didn't know what to make of it when it'd been made clear Theon wasn't showing up. The desire to see Duoquor's Pit for the first time sat heavy on him. And so he pushed in with the crowd, fingers crossed Theon had decided to do the same eventually.And yet the Ironborn was still missing. He wipes off the sweat beading at his brow, and approaches a couple of funny-looking yunkishmen on the second level.“Excuse me,” He says in High Valyrian. “I’m looking for my friend. He’s… he’s from Westeros, like me. He’s…” But the men ignore him, shooting odd glances back at him.With a sigh, Sam starts for the stairs again.“Damn it.” After a long climb, Sam's head spins and he clamps a hand onto the wall. His vision was swimming at the corners, objects and people fading out into blotches of color, heat and humidity knotting on his stomach.The poorer and downtrodden citizens of Yunkai had their place at the last level and Sam pants for breath when he gets there. He glimpses women, children, men in roughspun, holding canes and hunger. Two girls walk past him, laughing between each other, and his head sways from one side to the other. Something was wrong. The editor’s voice floats across the great brick bowl but Sam feels like he’s on a chair made of clouds, immune to its effects. And if he walks too closely to the edge… their bodies are the size of insects now… How?And words rang in his ears without any sort of coherency…Yes, he must be on the clouds, because his body is so light now, he’s flying. “Come on, bring him up.”“’Don’t know. ‘Looks like he broke one or two ribs.” Laughs. More laughs.“Where did they get this one? The belly of a Dothraki’s mare?”Sam wakes up slowly, hearing the creaks of his joints, the air rushing back to his heated body. He was alive, Sam thinks, though covered in soot and with a loosened tooth inside his mouth. Where was he? Was this a dream? The last thing he remembers is looking for Theon across the tiers. He climbed to the top. He was worried, and anxious, and then…He fell.Strong arms seized his and helped him out of the slick floor, not in a kind manner. Sam pants brutally, and his head swings boneless back and forth like a ragged doll, unable to feel any part of his body other than his chapped lips. His legs are buckling. Sam doesn’t feel anything from the waist down. “Where did you come from, fat man? The sky?”Of all of the places he could ever be, or finding himself in, Sam is sure he’s never ever been here, not even in his craziest dreams. It was so dark he could not see past his nose, and the smell was foul and moist and stale body odor. Around him, everything looks exactly like the black cells back in King’s Landing did, the smell was terrible and there’re puddles of brown water choking his feet. He sees heads and faces moving in the darkness, slithering from the dank corners like creatures from the underworld. He hears the rumble, and in their gaps of silence, Sam hears the shuffling of feet in short, flat steps, and the unmistakable rustle of thick fingers caressing axes. Vile rushes up his stomach. “Let him go, Gorghor. The Master’s not so fond of you chopping heads off down here. Best save that for the arena.”“G-Gorghor?” Sam mumbles, incoherently. The world, and the faces, are floating around him. Blending in, and then, splitting apart. “Theon? Have you… seen him? Theon…”More laughter.“Theon? That’s your Westerosi whore?”The next thing Sam knows he’s being thrown to the floor again. One of his teeth must be broken but still he manages to flip over, lying on his back, gasping, and shivering. How did he end up here? Who are these men? Rolling his head to the side, he catches a small arrow of light with the corner of his eye. The arena. That’s the arena he saw before. He sees the pitmaster, and a glimpse of the audience behind him. So, if that’s Douquor’s Pit, then this must be…“You’re fighting next, fat man. Don’t die before I kill you.”“No.” Sam shakes his head violently and finally everything sinks in like a heavy boulder dropped down onto his head. Everything. “No! No, this is a mistake.” He still doesn't know how, but Sam shoots out of the floor as if it burned and starts running in circles like a trapped deer. “Please, this is a mistake! I’m not a gladiator! I’m… I’m here— here with my friends.”He was in the barracks. He was in the gladiators’ barracks. They think he will go out and fight, and… Gods. This was a nightmare. The one who threw him before gives a step forward and Sam shrieks again, because now there’s a branch of dim light and his ugly face springs into view. With a bronze ring on his nose, he was a hulking beast of festering spongy sores and ragged breath, and he bars Sam’s way with a dark Arakh. Known as the weapon to hack a horse’s head from body. His potent stench weakens Sam’s stomach, and he wants to bend over right now. The gladiator stalks at Sam, patting his cheek with his weapon.And then, air is rushing out, and Sam doesn’t know what’s happening. His knees give in, and he clutches at his middle. He didn’t see the attack, yet now it was too late. His eyes swim with tears when cheers and claps start crowding the tunnel, but he knew, with crumbling hope, they were all blind and deaf. No one knew about this. No one was here to see this. The voice of the editor floats in, carried by cries of ecstasy, calling for his firsts gladiators and the tunnel roars with heavy poundings. Six of them run past Sam. He was just a lump lying on the floor, writhing and crying.“You don’t deserve to be out there.” The gladiator says again, baring his teeth. “Get up, and fight.”“No…” A second blow lands on his jaw and Sam sees white between his lids. He spits a glob of blood, squeezing his eyes shut. Why? Why this was happening? One of them spits on him, while other kicks at his ribs, motioning him to stand up and fight. And then, with his head sunk between the hunch of his shoulders, Sam’s hearing the dying cheers of the fight. The contest was over, and one of them took the other’s head… He was vomiting.A rough bark of laugher surges then. Sam's body folds in on himself as the sound bounces off the walls.“No one will hear you scream.” The giant gladiator approaches Sam, his voice dripping promise. “If you stay still, it won’t hurt you.”Sam shuts his eyes hard while the man swings his weapon down.Nothing happens.Dead weight hits the water but Sam’s body was a trembling ball, too fearful to see what happened. He opens one eye after the other when he notes seconds running, and the tunnel as silent as a crypt. Reluctantly, his hands let go of his head and he peers over his shoulder… Only to see someone standing before him. The glare from the exterior was blinding but he details a well-defined back, strong and solid, and biceps filled out with broad muscles. His heart skips a beat, as this tall, masculine body was… was…“Jon…” He cries, a smile breaking out on his weak lips. Jon came to save him. The man curled his fists at either side of his body and the few gladiators standing on his way backed away from him. Wide-eyed, Sam swallows hard and glimpses red fiery hair and a number of scars which he didn’t relate to Jon. He gapes at him, too stunned to do anything else but sit there on the floor, his pupils blown wide, heart sprinting on his chest.“Why don’t you pick someone your own size, Gorghor?” The attractive man says. His voice was low, as a wolf’s growl but it wasn’t Jon’s voice. The Meerenesse grits his teeth. “He’s twice my size!”“You know what I mean. Leave him alone.” The Meerenesse steps forward with his eyes bulging. They were so close the redhead had to bend his neck to look up at him.“Are you touched, boy? I think he's most deserving of the honor.” The Arakh was ripped from the floor and Gorghor hefts it before their eyes, a dark smile curves on its edge. "This honor.”But the man reaches out, his own hand grips the giant's wrist with the weapon still held aloft. His icy stare meets Gorghor. "Then, you'll wait.” He says angrily. "When you see each other again in the arena.”Gorghor snorts, and surges forward, breaking the other's grip with a lurch. But the Arakh is clumsy on his numb arm and it's brought to a stop in mid-air, barely inches from the man’s neck. It falls then with a great thud on the ground, and Gorghor's seething, his feet pushing back through the throng of gladiators, his shoulders swallowed by the shadows. Sam just can’t believe what he was seeing anymore. He breathes in unsteadily. His legs refuse to move, his mind on a tender state between wonder and dread.Stupor fading away, he takes the hand the other man offers to him. “Thanks. Thanks very much—” “Just try to be more careful next time.” The man says, gently. Sam is shaking the dirt off his clothes so he’s not looking at him, but when he’s done and looks up, cold grips his stomach. His foot catches on something when he stumbles back in shock.Blue eyes stare back at Sam, the color piercing through the dark in a way that seems very oddly familiar. The man was tall and attractive, he had a handsome, lord face and mussed short red curls. Something about his hair reminds Sam of the wildlings tribes North of the Wall and what they say about redheads, kissed by fire. But something else knocked the breath out of him, sent his head cracking back against the wall, not his face, not his stunning body with hard toned muscles dotting chest and thighs, not his eyes. It was the impossible resemblance he had with…“Robb…” He blurts out. No. It couldn’t be.“You’re from the new recruits, right?” The man asks, frowning a bit. His soft curls were clinging at his forehead, his eyes carefully measuring up Sam, mild intrigue shining off them. Sam drops his eyes fast and glimpses something in the man’s strong arm, a tattoo. It was the same tattoo Missandei had earlier, the harpy of Yunkai with a leash and a thunderbolt on each talon. He swallows again, his eyes run back up.“Recruits?” Sam snaps out of it, the effect of his words lost to him. “Oh.” Then, it sinks in. “No, no. I— I don’t fight. I’m here… with my friend Jon. We came from Westeros… I don’t like… fights”. The man lifts one eyebrow at Sam. “Try to keep that to yourself while you’re here, alright?”His strong body cleans the way to a rack of heavy swords, where he picks one up. Then, he’s back and offers it to Sam. “If it’s your first time, try to take your opponent close to the ladies. They don’t like the sight of blood… much.”“Blood?”He holds the sword clumsily with both hands, and horror explodes on his face. The voice of the editor was announcing a second row of gladiators into the arena. The next thing Sam knows he’s being dragged by his back to the gates of the tunnel, legs too weary and shocked to escape its grasp. The last thing he sees is the redheaded man, lingering after him on the open gates. Jon could feel his stomach churning under his clothes. His grey gaze sweeps across the width of the building, glance in turn hundreds of spectators huddled together both left and right from his seat. Shafts of sunlight slant through the crack of the clouds above and down into the arena. The last fight had ended too soon and he still can see the sand, wet with faint smears of fresh blood. At his side, Yurkhaz zo Yunzak was not suggesting much than a cold grin, while his kin and companions were roaring brutally, joined by half of the stands. The last death was a surprise. A young Lysene boy had teased his luck and a great Qartheen had torn his throat apart, it was received with fair acknowledgment from the Wise Masters but cheers and applauses from thousands of men and women. Jon tears his eyes from the arena worriedly.His box was on the first level and Yurkhaz had made sure to stock it with flagons of chilled wine, along with figs, dates, melons, and pomegranates, but he could not eat any of those. His head was somewhere else. It’d been an hour since the last time he saw Sam and there were no news about him, nor Theon.Jon clears his throat, drums his fingers against his knee. The centre of the arena was being currently occupied by the editor, readying his lungs for the next batch of gladiators, and Jon keeps his eyes there with a faint line of worry between his eyebrows.What if something had happened to them?He’s ripped from his musings by great guffaws. People were dabbing at their teary eyes, and stabbing a finger at the arena. Yurkhaz rose from his seat, shouting atrocities in an antique dialect of Ghiscari. On the bottom of the Pit, someone who looks like the biggest man Jon has ever seen in his life had his arms around a clumsy shape, who was punching the air in the attempt to escape. His clothes, Jon thinks, his pulse jumping vaguely under his skin. His screams, and his face… Jon’s stomach sank abruptly. Nothing had prepared him to watch this.“Sam…” Please, no. Anyone but him. The brunette shot out of his seat, leaning over the balustrade with shock flashing off his eyes. Apparently, everyone thought this was some kind of amusement show, that’s why he was hearing nothing but plain euphoria all around him. Screams for the Brindled Butcher happen all around the arena, while Yezzan was laughing so hard he was on the verge of bursting. Jon can’t watch when Sam’s opponent throws him to the ground and starts pelting him relentlessly. Hair standing on end, he takes one of Yurkhaz’s guardsmen by the collar of his chainmail with brutal force.“Stop this.” He growls, and points his index finger towards the fight. “That’s my friend.”Fuck this, he swears. They were going to kill him. Sam releases another cry which echoes across the brick bowl and Jon’s shoulders twitch in response. Without thinking, he whirls and steals the guard’s sword.Heart thumping madly in his chest, Jon throws himself over the balustrade and runs to his friend. This man doesn’t know any language but the language of swords.Well, at least the men on the barracks were decent enough to speak to him. Sam was sure he didn't hear anything but half-growls from this one since he stepped into the arena. But what did it matter now? He knew he’ll be dead sooner or later. Gladiators slide into formation all around him, with unerring discipline and Sam does his best to play the part too, but even he had to admit he's sweating his innards out. Sparing a glance at his flanks, Sam sees the pitmasters with whips on their hands, ready to make them work if someone tries to run. And looking up his nose, there’s his rival. As big as a door, desire for human flesh all written on his small feisty eyes.“Look, can we talk about th—” The slave charges at him and Sam blocks.He grits his teeth and swings the sword about, a bundle of nerves gripping his middle. He's never been a great swordsman, 'Sam, The Slayer' Theon calls him sometimes with a mocking grin and Sam had never come with a witty retort back at him. He's fast, and the weight of the sword works good on him, but there's no intention to cause harm, there's no desire to draw blood if Sam despises the sight of it. He tries again, and again, but the slave had a head on Sam, and far too much muscle, and he's built to fight men and rip their heads off without breaking a sweat. Losing all hope to make it alive, Sam shuts his eyes and dives for a kill. The slave rears back, and Sam cracks one eye open at him, glimpsing a fresh cut right about the muscular knee, oozing a thin trickle of blood onto the ground. The beast of a man growls, a guttural sound ripping from his lungs, and all Sam can do is pray when he catches the end of his sword between his massive fingers, and twists. When it breaks like glass, Sam staggers back, red-faced, and ready to admit defeat.The Yunkish slave smiles crookedly, tossing his weapon at the air and catching it back like a stick, and Sam sobs as he hears the boom of his strides. His big hand cups the back of Sam’s head then, and drags it forward, the burnished breastplate biting on Sam’s skullbone. It was a mistake, the boy from Horn Hill thinks. It was a mistake to come here. His brow is dripping red onto the sand…“Sam!” Sam jerks in shock, still sobbing. But now there were tears of relief forming on his eyes. “Jon!” He cries, giving his friend a bloodied smile.Jon runs past a pair of Ibbenese, engaged in a fierce wrestle, and a dead Summer-Islander with an axe dangling from his skull. The slave who faces Sam sees him on the distance and throws the longaxe at him, Jon dodges it with his head. One, two steps. The speed allows a clean thrust of his sword to the other’s throat, and before knowing, the bigger man drops slack to the ground, curls of sand rise after him in the middle of a thick silence. Jon only issues him a hungry feral look, chest rising and falling, knees wide apart under the crimson glow of the sun.“What the hell are you doing here?”“I’m sorry—I’m sorry, Jon.” Sam shakes his head. “I— I… They cornered me, at the barracks… I fell and they cornered me and—There was a man… He saved me, but he’s…”“You’re bleeding.” Jon says, eyeing the huge cut in his friend’s brow. He kneels before Sam, eyes stopping thoroughly on the fresh wound, but the moment after, hundred of eyes open holes on his back. He draws his eyebrows together.Sam presses his eyes shut the moment a sword blocks sunlight. Jon spins deftly and meets it with his own. His opponent was a bag of muscles from the Basilisk Isles, whose charge was slow and hot-tempered, yet Jon breaks free and slashes at his back. Taking the enemy sword, he uses both hands to fill with steel the belly of a big man who tried to throttle him from behind. Hundreds of eyes follow as the titan thudded to the ground, the shards and splinters of its dented weapon fill the air in a cloud of dust after him. Jon pushes his sword down all the way, and the scarred face was limp and lifeless beneath him.A veteran from Yezzan’s barracks runs past Jon, with a spinning chain over his head, slashing, cutting, and beheading everything that went on his way. Five feet to their left, a pitmaster came bounding across the arena, his hand making his quick whip work close to a slave of six foot tall. The man struck the ground fast, his foot catching a brazier on his way down and knocking it over as well, while the slave in a crouch tore the neck as if it were paper. “Stay behind me!” Jon yells at Sam.He brings his sword down, then up, the massacre unfolding before his eyes. His left side was completely open, a mistake he promptly pays when he rises only his bare arm to block another’s assault and the blood surges with abandon, red and hot. Jon bites in the scream but keeps fighting, trying to save his neck and Sam’s. Eardrums were ringing with insults to his name and nation alike, yet his sword falls down with enormous grace, trading blow for blow with one of Yezzan’s slaves, while his bloodlust guides his arm, and his black curls whip at his face each time the curved edge attempts an approach to his cheeks. He’s sure his sword is breathing for them both now, because his lungs are on the verge of snapping, and he feels a solid jolt of pain crawling up from one of his knees. He grinds his heel into a man’s wrist, pins it to the ground until he drops the Arakh all while disarming another raging slave who came at Jon from his back. Somehow, in the middle of the fight, he had stripped from his clothes unnoticeably, standing only on his breeches, and the sun was touching tender skin, though Jon could feel forks of blood dripping down his abdominals.His head sways tiredly. A bolt of red hair dashes past him, but he must be going crazy.Jon staggers back, body hitting the wall. His breathing is erratic, and when Sam comes tumbling forward, he sees his lips move… the rest is only a blur. There’s wetness on one of his legs, and his eyes detail the trail of red blood onto the sand. Then, a looming shadow approaches.“Sam, get out of here!” Jon clutches his ribs with one arm. There’s urgency, panic, on his voice because he’s not sure if he can fight now.“Seems like we meet again, fat man.” Gorghor says, and sniffs at Sam’s hair. Jon swears under his breath.“Don’t you dare fight him.” Jon says, spitting blood. He has seen that look many times before and it’s no illusion the reflection in the bloodshot eyes is Sam’s own slaughtered body.Sam sobs, his fingers seeking Jon’s sword across the blood-stained sand. When he finds it, his hand curl on the hilt, then tilts his head up. The Meerenesse is right there above them. His laugh is like a rumble of thunder, his lungs swell with it, makes his eyes watery at the corners. And then, Sam is charging. The tip of the sword bounces against the giant’s thick muscles, and Gorghor hurls it a few yards away, it skitters through the sand. “We sup on little boys like you.” He pokes his big nose into Sam’s light hair, and the stench brushes the smaller boy’s cheekbones. Get up, Jon thinks. Get up and run, Sam. Please.“I’m sorry, Jon…” He sobs, hiding his face in the crook of his shoulder. Drops of sweat and blood dribble down his wrists, his arms flare with the effort of keeping himself stiff on the ground. Gorghor sniggers, then grunts impatiently.“You want me to kill you?”“No, please…” Sam quivers, trembles madly. A giant foot crushed him against the sand and air gushes out from Sam. Jon’s body bursts with unseen rage until all of his old scars were ripped wide open again.“I think you do.” He’s going to break his neck, Jon thinks. He’s going to… “You’re a worthless slave.”“Please…” Sam wails, and squirms under his foot. He screws his eyes shut. “Louder, you piece of shit.”“Please, please… don’t…” Sam’s teeth chatter, bloated face rolling against the sand. “Please, don’t k—…!”“Your friend here was right. You should’ve run.”“No!” Sam shuts his eyes.The world stops. A scream, that’s what Sam heard. Pulling out his head from the haven of his arms, he’s faced with the sight of Gorghor’s body, a blade lodged on his middle, its length jutting out from a knot of ribbed muscles. With a hitch on his breath, he trades a look with Jon… only, he’s not looking at him.“Jon… What—?” Sam jolts when the blade is carefully removed and Gorghor’s body drops loudly to the floor, just a foot from distance. The kill had been quick. But the shock had not made it up his eyes when Sam feels he’s not alone. And then, someone kneels next to him. Sun catching red locks of hair, and gentle pair of blue eyes.“Can you stand up?” The man from the barracks asks and Sam glimpses a longsword on his grasp, blood dribbling from it. “I— Thank you, thank you again. I thought… I thought he was going to kill us. Jon, he— I’m sorry about your sword. It wasn’t Jon’s fault… I lost it. I should’ve—”Jon stares fixedly at the man, knelt next to Sam. His heart is hammering on his chest without explanation, once, and twice, and he’s thankful for the wall which is a solid aid on his back. His stomach flutters funnily, as he drinks in the sight of red blazing hair, powerful jaw, sharp angle of muscles and pectorals, skin without a drop of sweat even if he just killed a man twice his size. And finally, their eyes meet. Blue into grey. Grey into blue. And the moment seems to stretch to forever.Gods, he thinks. If he’s thinking at all.He barely notices when Sam lands on his knees next to him, his excitement at odds with how he looks. “Look, Jon.” He says excitedly. “I think he’s the man we’re looking for.”The arena is strangely silent around him and the wind lifts Jon’s curls off from his eyes, some of them catch on his lips. He didn’t realize he’s been holding his breath, curling his fingers tightly on the falls of warm sand. But then, Jon hears a buzz rising up from the tiers, getting louder and louder. And then it cracks the silence. The mob is set alight with a loud scream and soon it was the entire city Jon which hears, or think he does. His ears buzz with the noise. Even in his poor state, it’s not hard to tell apart the name they were calling, craving for. Every throat. Every man, woman and child.It’s not hard. They were screaming ‘Ninestars’ over and over again.
10771824	Podfic Through Cities	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by quietnight, RevolutionaryJo", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-30T00:00:00", "words": "15", "Additional Tags": "Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Fix-It, More Roman Catholicism, Steve Rogers Is A Lying Liar Who Lies, Podfic Length: 3.5-4 Hours, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: M4B, Soundscape, Sound Effects", "Relationship": "James \"Bucky\" Barnes/Steve Rogers", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Length: 3:49:16 Downloads MP3 (210 MB) M4B (104 MB) Reblog on tumblr here.
10786833	Lapis and Emerald	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": "Original Male Character(s), Harry Potter, Ron Weasley", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Hedwigs Bane [archived by thequidditchpitch_archivist]", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2008-08-08T00:00:00", "words": "3,049", "Additional Tags": "Romance, Fluff, Hogwarts Era, Second War with Voldemort", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "The Quidditch Pitch", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Author's notes: Word Count: 3,047 Lapis and Emerald Gay, gay, gay, gay, gay! Ron thought to himself as he stood in front of the counter. This is the poofiest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Even though the thought of what he was planning filled him with excitement, it also scared him half to death. Still, ever since he had sold his horrible old dress robes to the second hand shop, amazed at what they had been willing to pay (apparently, there was a theatre troop in need of “dated” costumes), he knew just what he wanted to spend his Galleons on. He had seen it when Lavender Brown had dragged him into this shop weeks before Christmas, obviously trolling for a gift from Ron, making it clear to him just what pieces she found most attractive. It had been all Ron could do not to laugh in her face. He could no more afford to buy anything in this shop than he could fly his Cleansweep to the moon. In the end, he had given Lavender a gift certificate for Honeydukes Sweetshop, for which she had graciously, if not enthusiastically, thanked him when they had returned from the Christmas holidays. Now Ron found himself back at the same shop, trying his best to look as if he was only browsing, while the clerk assisted another customer. He didn’t want there to be anyone else around as he inquired as to the price of the item he knew he had to have. It was absolutely perfect. The color was just right, and it was large enough to be masculine, though not so large as to be garish. Ron looked up at the sound of clinking coins, seeing the only other customer paying for her purchase. Soon the bell over the door rang as she left, and the clerk walked over to where Ron stood on the other side of the counter. “And how may I assist you today, sir?” the clerk asked. Ron was reminded of a somewhat more effeminate version of Gilderoy Lockhart as he looked at the carefully coiffed, middle aged wizard, in somewhat over-the-top turquoise robes, laced with silver. “Uh, I was wondering about this,” Ron said, pointing through the top of the glass counter.“Ah, yes,” the clerk smiled, waving a wand over the glass as he murmured a spell, which allowed him to plunge his hand directly through the glass without damage to either. “This is a particularly nice piece.” He glanced back up at Ron and said, “Do you know, I believe it’s a perfect match for your eyes! Yes, the color is nearly identical. This will look fantastic on you.” “It’s not really for me,” Ron said, before he had even thought about it, immediately wishing that his common sense had been activated before his mouth. “Oh, I see,” the clerk replied with an understanding smile. “A gift for someone special, no doubt, though it’s difficult to believe that two people could be fortunate enough to have such brilliant blue eyes. Well I’m sure that sh—” He stopped speaking and a bemused expression crossed his face, “Oh no, sir. We’re at the wrong counter! These are all men’s rings! The women’s rings are over in that counter.” He waved his hand toward the other side of the shop. “I know these are men’s rings,” Ron said irritably. Why couldn’t the blasted man just show him the damned thing, and not make this harder than it was? “Could you just tell me what it costs?” “Of course, sir,” the clerk replied, a sly smile forming on his lips, and an annoyingly knowing twinkle shining in his eyes. He waved his wand again, summoning a ledger which he lay open on the counter and began to page through. “Let’s see here… lapis… lapis… man’s ring… ah, yes, here it is. The men’s Lapis Lazuli Magic Fit.” "‘Magic Fit’?” “Yes, sir,” the clerk said, finally fixing a more professional smile on his face. “Not everyone knows their loved one’s… that is to say, the recipient’s ring size. With ‘Magic Fit’, the ring will fit itself perfectly to the wearer.” “Oh, that’s good,” Ron said. He hadn’t even thought about size. How the hell would anyone know that, anyway? He didn’t even know his own ring size. “And this piece retails for forty Galleons.” “Oh,” he said dejectedly. Ron, who was carrying more money than he had ever had at one time in his entire life, had just received an unexpected and disappointing lesson in economics. “Is there some problem, sir?” The clerk’s smile had faded, being replaced by a look of sincere concern. “No, no problem,” Ron lied. “Thank you anyway.” He turned to leave the shop. “Sir, please wait,” the clerk called after him. “Why don’t we see if I can help?” Ron turned back, and was taken by just how anxiously the man seemed to want to help him. Still, there was nothing to be done. Ron was a full eight Galleons short of the price. “I don’t think you can,” Ron shrugged. “Only I don’t have enough. I only have thirty-two Galleons.” “I see.” The clerk seemed to take a moment to size Ron up. “You’re a student up at the school, aren’t you?” “Yes.” “Then maybe,” the clerk bit on his bottom lip as his eyes narrowed in thought, “maybe there is a way I can help you. In fact, maybe we can help each other.” “How’s that?” Ron said, not realizing that he had crooked his neck. “Well,” the clerk smiled, “as I’m sure you know, Valentine’s Day is fast approaching, which means that there will be all sorts of Hogwarts students looking to buy something special for their sweethearts… and friends,” he added, as Ron shot him a look. “If you would be willing to tell your fellow students where you purchased this ring, I could see my way clear to offering you a discount of, say, eight Galleons?” “Really?” Ron’s voice shot up about two octaves in excitement, but quickly lowered again as the reality of the situation broke upon his mind. “I’m sorry. I really don’t think that would work.” “Yes, I see. I imagine that could be a problem.” The clerk was either a Legilimens or a kindred spirit, but whatever he was, he almost seemed to read Ron’s thoughts. “Sorry,” Ron said quietly, and again turned to leave. “Oh, wait, please,” the clerk called out again. “We haven’t exhausted all possibilities. Besides, I would truly like to be able to help you.” “Why?” asked Ron, not really suspicious, but at least curious. “Because I can tell that this is very important to you,” the clerk’s understanding smile had returned. “You were clearly uncomfortable coming in here, but you put that aside to obtain a special gift for someone who must be truly remarkable, and if I may say, very lucky to have such a… friend.” Since the man had managed to crawl this deeply into his thoughts, Ron saw no reason to lie. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.” “Of course,” the clerk nodded. “Then let me suggest another plan. Your friend needn’t tell anybody that you bought the ring for him, which goes without saying. All he has to do is let his fellow students know where it was purchased. Would that work?” Ron considered this for a few moments. Could he actually convince him to do this? Hell, he wasn’t sure that he’d accept the ring, much less wear it, much less say what shop it came from. “Well, I could try,” Ron said slowly as these thoughts spun around his brain. “But, if I have to, I can return it, right?” It was frightening how the clerk looked at him, and Ron was again convinced that his mind was an open book. “I see,” the clerk nodded. “Not certain that the gift will be received in the spirit in which it’s given?” Ron simply nodded. “Of course, I will happily refund your money should the outcome be less than satisfactory. Your friend has blue eyes like yours, yes?” “No. Green.” Again, Ron was surprised how easily he had volunteered this information. He couldn’t help but think that if Fred and George had this man behind their counter, they would be making twice as much money as they were, and that was saying something. “Green?” the clerks eyebrows shot up. “Then perhaps I could show you something in emerald! In fact, I just sold one to another young man the other day. He had the most remarkable green eyes you’ve ever seen, and it was a near perfect match… no, no, what am I saying? Too expensive, I think. Jade, perhaps! That would cost substantially less, and …” “No,” Ron shook his head. “I really want the blue.” “Of course, how foolish of me,” the clerk reprimanded himself. “Not his eyes, but yours. Well, I don’t know how he would be able to look at this ring and not think of your striking blue eyes. Lapis lazuli it is, then.” Ron knew that he should be blushing furiously by now, but the clerk had put him so at his ease that he wasn’t at all embarrassed by his insights. He smiled as the clerk cleaned the ring before placing it into a presentation case and wrapping it in gold paper. He handed over the his thirty-two Galleons without a hint of buyer’s remorse. “Thank you,” Ron said as the clerk handed him the small bag. “I really do appreciate this, and I’ll tell anybody who asks that this is the only place to go for jewelry.” “That’s all I ask,” the clerk smiled back at him. “And thank you for reminding me what it feels like to be young.” “How’s that?” Ron asked, fixing the man with an inquiring gaze. “Well, let’s just say that you’ve reminded me that we all have a first time, and that it can be at once terrifying and exhilarating.” He smiled in a somewhat nostalgically melancholy way. “I only hope that I’ve helped to make yours… memorable.” “You don’t happen to know our headmaster, by any chance?” Ron asked, suddenly struck by the thought. “Dumbledore?” the clerk replied. “Well, I wouldn’t claim friendship, but, yes, we are acquainted. Why?” “No reason, really,” Ron’s pushed up his bottom lip in thought. “Only you remind me of him. A lot, really.” “Well!” the clerk smiled broadly. “I know him well enough to take that as a grand compliment.” The clerk reached out a hand which Ron shook. “Thank you for your custom, and please, stop in again.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ron, I hope you don’t think this is stupid, or too poofy, or anything, but I wanted you to know how much I appreciate you and your friendship. You’ve done more for me than you will ever know, simply by being my friend, my first real friend, and my very best friend. I hope that there’s never a time when we won’t be together, but just in case, I wanted to give you something that will always make you think of me when you look at it. Sorry I couldn’t find anything with a lightning bolt on it (ha ha), but I thought this might work instead. I tried to get the color as close as I could. I’ll understand if you don’t feel comfortable telling people where you got it, or even if you don’t want to wear it. I mean, what kind of thing is this for a bloke to give to another bloke? But when I saw it, I really wanted you to have it. I don’t think you should wear it around Lavender today, though. She might think you have another girlfriend (ha ha). I’d say Happy Valentine’s Day, but that might be pushing the poof a bit (ha ha). Your friend forever, Harry Ron looked at the small wrapped package Harry must have placed on his bed during the night. It was amazing that they hadn’t bumped into each other. Ron had crept through the darkness to put his own package at the foot of Harry’s bed well after midnight. As he gently tore at the silver wrapping, he quickly became aware that the box inside was remarkably similar to the one in which the jewelry clerk had place the lapis lazuli ring he had bought for Harry. His breath growing shorter, Ron held the black velveteen box in his hand for several moments before tilting the lid back. Ron gasped as the rays of the morning sun, shining through the narrow opening in his bed curtains, fell upon the highly polished emerald and the bright gold setting of the ring inside. But for the color of the stone, it was identical to the one he had given Harry. Reflected green light shone all around, as if the emerald was lit from within. Not caring for Lavender, his roommates, his fellow students, or even the faculty, Ron immediately took the ring from the box and slipped it onto the middle finger of his right hand. He felt it tighten snugly but comfortably, obviously a “Magic Fit”. He held his hand up in front of him, admiring the simple beauty of the ring. It was as close to the color of Harry’s eyes as anything he’d ever seen before, and there was no doubt that he could ever look at it and not be reminded of his first, real and best friend. He re-read Harry’s note, chuckling quietly at the number of “ha ha’s”, clearly indicating how nervous Harry had been to give him this gift. He understood entirely, having written a similar note to accompany his gift, trying to sound as manly as possible, while still trying to say how much Harry meant to him. Warmth flooded through him as he read the words “Your friend forever”, but it was almost immediately followed by panic. Ron suddenly realized that, almost without thinking, he had signed his note with “Love, Ron”. How could he have been so stupid?! Harry was sure to read that to mean… well… love! He suddenly found himself having trouble breathing, his mind racing to somehow explain what he really meant. Well, not what he really meant, but anything that would sound socially acceptable. Maybe Harry hadn’t woken up yet! Maybe Ron could still sneak over and grab the gift and the note, writing something more appropriate later. So Harry would get it the day after Valentine’s Day. That was a pretty queer idea anyway, so maybe this would be better. As quietly as he could, hoping the rings wouldn’t clatter, Ron slid his bed curtains apart. In the bright sunlight assaulting his eyes, Ron could make out the silhouette of someone standing next to his bed. Raising a hand to shade his eyes, Ron saw Harry, a huge smile on his face, and a flash of gold and blue adorning the ring finger of his right hand. “Morning, Ron,” Harry blinked, and Ron could see a single tear sparkling in the sunlight on his left cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Ron looked over his shoulder quickly, though he could see nothing through the curtains on the other side of his bed. “Don’t worry,” Harry said quietly, “they’re still asleep.” “Harry, I—I…” “I know you do, Ron.” Harry nodded knowingly. “I just wish I had had your guts. I really should have signed mine the same way.” He walked over and sat on the side of the bed, taking Ron’s right hand and placing it against his own so that both rings shone in the sunlight. “You’re my best friend. Love, Harry.” “Oh, Harry…” was all Ron could gasp out as he shook his head in disbelief. “Oh, Ron,” Harry nodded. “Guess we have a lot to talk about.” “I reckon so,” Ron agreed, after having taken a deep breath. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the two rings, so perfectly matched, so perfectly...perfect. “Lapis and emerald,” Harry sighed. “They go quite well together, yeah?” “Oh, you’ve just noticed that?” Ron said playfully. “No,” Harry shook his head. “I noticed that a long time ago. This is just the first time I haven’t been too much of a coward to say it.” “You’re not a coward, Harry,” Ron corrected him, “you’re a bloke. Maybe you noticed I didn’t say it either. ‘We all have a first time, and it can be at once terrifying and exhilarating.’ ” “What was that?” Harry turned his emerald eyes to Ron’s lapis lazuli’s. “Just something someone said to me once about first times,” Ron smiled. “We all have them, and they can be brilliant, but they can be scary, too.” “Well, this one is brilliant,” Harry turned his attention back to the rings. “I hope we have more like it.” “Harry,” Ron chuckled, leaning against his first real, best friend, “I have the feeling we’re going to have a load of first times in the near future.” On an impulse, Ron leaned in to press his lips against Harry’s, both boys savoring their first kiss for several moments. Afterwards, Ron whispered, “I know that wasn’t your first time, but…” “First time I actually enjoyed it, though,” Harry said, his face flushed and his breathing ragged. Putting his arm around Ron’s waist, he raised his hand again, and Ron lined up their rings once more. “You have that on the wrong finger, you know.” “I like it there,” Ron said. “Then everybody can see my beautiful ring when I flip them off.” “But it goes on your ring finger,” Harry explained, raising his own hand to Ron’s face. “See?" “I don’t care.” Ron countered. “It’s my ring and I’ll wear it where I want.” When Harry slipped into a quiet fit of giggles, Ron turned to look at him. “What’s funny?” “Another first time,” Harry gasped out. “Our first lovers’ row.” “Prat,” Ron giggled as well. “Who says we’re lovers, anyway? All we did was kiss.” “True, that,” Harry said, standing up. “We’ll have to see about changing that soon. First time for everything.” He bobbed his eyebrows, and walked back to his own bed. First time for everything, Ron thought to himself. At once terrifying and exhilarating.
10775925	The Fear of Rejection	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": null, "Characters": "Edina Monsoon, Patsy Stone, Saffron Monsoon, Justin (Absolutely Fabulous)", "Fandom": "Absolutely Fabulous", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Aaronlisa", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-30T00:00:00", "words": "235", "Additional Tags": "Denial of Feelings, Angst, Pre-Series", "Relationship": "Edina Monsoon/Patsy Stone", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "F/F, Gen", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	When Saffy was younger and Justin would visit her on a regular basis, Eddy would cringe when he would inevitably pull out the old photo albums and look at the pictures with their daughter. In those photos of their short life together, there’s something that always causes Justin to become cross with her. After his visits, Patsy would pull Eddy into her arms and soothe her before dragging her out to the newest, hippest and trendiest spot in London. They’ll dance the night away, drinking champagne and gin cocktails, smoking so many cigarettes that the next morning Eddy’s voice will be hoarse, and ingesting drugs that make the night spin by in a colourful blur. Yet despite everything, Justin’s voice remains in the back of her head for days after his visits, always asking her the same questions: Why can’t you accept who you are Edwina, and what you have with Patsy? Why do you always hurt those who love you by pretending that you’re something you’re not?So Eddy would go out every single night until Justin’s voice and his incessant questions are drowned out by the cocktails, the loud throbbing music, the drugs and the random sex with strange men so that she doesn’t have to admit things that she just can’t find it in herself to admit because she’s deathly afraid if she turns to Patsy, the blonde will leave her. END
10760472	The Thing is Ron	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Ron Weasley, Harry Potter", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by tqpannie", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-29T00:00:00", "words": "2,915", "Additional Tags": "Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Angst, Explicit Language, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room, Drama, Erotica, Post-War", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "The Quidditch Pitch", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	"Well, Hermione," Harry sighed and sat down on the ground next to his best friend. "I really fucked things up."Harry shook his head and sighed, "I know…I know. I shouldn't curse but I really have bollocks things up.""I guess since Ron was injured in the final battle I've gotten a bit overprotective, but he takes all these risks." Harry fiddled with his gloves. "He thinks I'm smothering him."Harry stared at the clouds and watched the first few snowflakes fall to the ground. He could see his breath and it seemed that winter was finally upon them. He tugged his leather gloves on and shivered slightly in the cold night air."I just feel responsible for keeping him safe you know," Harry leaned his head back against the stone. "He taught me everything—he protected me and was willing to sacrifice his life for mine even though I told him I wasn't worth it."Harry traced a pattern in the snow that was gathering on the ground next to him. He needed to get all this out because there was going to be hell to pay when he got back to the flat he shared with Ron."Ron found out I was having him followed, Hermione," Harry muttered. "He's going to hit the fan. He caught Terry and basically accused him of being a stalker. Terry got defensive and then blurted out that I was paying him to keep an eye on Ron. I guess Ron started putting everything together and he sent me a Howler."Harry took a drink of the hot chocolate he had purchased and shook his head to get rid of the snowflakes from his hair. He shuddered slightly remembering the Howler that had arrived in Oliver Wood's office during a team meeting and his lips tightened when everyone had burst into laughter when it exploded in his face and Ron's very angry voice had filled the office."Stop laughing, Hermione," Harry muttered. "It was a full Weasley Howler—worse than the one Ron's mum sent second year. So what do I do, Hermione. He'll have a search party out for me soon enough. I didn't go home and I'm sure he's finished with his assignment by now—he's going to murder me."Harry closed his eyes, "This is hopeless and I'm going to freeze to death out here in the snow." He stood slowly. "I sure wish you were here, Hermione."He reached down and brushed the snow from the marbled headstone, "I could sure use your advice."Harry glanced down at the resting place of his best friend and felt tears welling in his eyes. He missed her so much it hurt, and since her death, he'd gotten a bit over protective. But he'd already lost Hermione; there was no way he could bear to lose Ron too He pressed his fingers to his lips and blew a kiss towards where he imaged Hermione might stand if she were still here and the turned on his heel to head home.He never saw the figure materialize and sigh sadly, "I miss you boys, too." It took him nearly an hour to walk home He needed to clear his thoughts and knew walking was the best way. He also desperately wanted to avoid Ron and hopefully he had cooled down by now. The snow was falling heavily and the light dusting that the Prophet had predicted was quickly turning into a full fledge white out. Harry gloves were soaked through and he was completely chilled. He rubbed his hands together as he entered to foyer to their flat and when he shut the door behind him, he relished the warmth coming from the radiators."Where the bloody hell have you been?"A very angry Ron Weasley came around the corner and glared at Harry. His blue eyes burned with a mix of worry and anger. His hair was messy and Harry knew he'd been running his hands through it like he always did when he was upset. His jaw was clenched and Harry could see the muscle there twitching. In short, Ron looked more than slightly sexy and he couldn't help but let his eyes rake up and down Ron's body."Out.""Out," Ron growled and Harry felt a shiver run up his spine. "You were out? You're drenched to the bone. It's bloody freezing out and you're going to get sick!""You don't get sick from the cold," Harry muttered as he hung his coat up. "You get sick from germs."Ron threw his hands up in disgust and headed towards the kitchen. He slammed open the door, driving the knob into the wall, and Harry carefully took his boots off before following him."Inconsiderate, lousy, bastard," Ron was muttering as he charmed the teakettle to brew. "He knew I wanted to talk to him tonight about this shite he's pulling, but oh no. The great Harry Potter couldn't be bothered to be at home."Ron slammed the teacups down on the table, shattering one, and Harry leaned against the doorframe to watch."Bloody git," Ron continued to rant as he repaired the mug. "Getting Kingsley to put me on desk duty, making sure that I'm not out in the field, charming my broom to fly slower, and having Terry Boot follow me on dates! Honestly, how am I ever supposed to get a pull if Terry is watching me! Bloke's fancied me since Hogwarts.""Ron," Harry said as he pushed away from the doorframe. "Let me explain."Ron turned and leaned against the stove, he rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest."Yes, please explain!" Ron's voice was sharp with frustration. "When did you stop believing I could handle myself?""It's not that!" Harry said feeling a shiver of anger flow through him. "I was trying to protect you.""From what exactly, Harry?" Ron tapped his foot and Harry was briefly reminded of Hermione. "Having Terry stalk me is a bit unnerving you know and my broom is the laugh of the Auror department. I don't even like to play Quidditch on it because Fred and George take the mickey out of me.""Well you see it's like this—""Like what Harry! I haven't had a proper shag in months and now I know why!"Is getting laid all you care about? I thought you wanted to hear my explaination." Harry slammed his hand down on the table. "I have to protect you. I can't let you get hurt.""Getting hurt is a part of life, Harry," Ron shouted and tugged the teakettle as it started to whistle. "You can't keep watch over me twenty four hours a day.""I can and I will! Damn it, there are still Death Eaters out there! Lucius Malfoy escaped from Azkaban again and Rodolphus Lestrange is still on the loose!" Harry screamed as he felt a shiver of fear run up and down his spine. "I won't have it happen again!"He sank down in the chair and buried his head in his hands. He felt Ron come behind him and he tensed when his hands came down to rest on his shoulders."Harry you aren't going to lose me.""You can't know that, Ron," Harry's voice was muffled by his hands. "You can't know that I won't. "Ron's hands moved from his shoulders and a moment later he was kneeling on the floor in front of Harry. Harry couldn't help but fight him as Ron tried to pull his hands away from his face and finally he relented. There were tears in his eyes when Ron cupped his cheeks and he was almost embarrassed by the look in Ron's eyes."You won't lose me, Harry.""You can't promise," Harry reached out and fisted his hands in Ron's shirt. "You can't.""No one can," Ron's thumbs brushed along Harry's cheeks and Harry tried not to lean into his touch. "But I'm not happy, Harry. I'm not living, I'm suffocating.""I just," Harry began and swallowed hard. "You're the thing I'd miss most. Even after all these years and we lost Hermione.""Why? Why am I the thing you'd miss most, Harry?" Ron asked and before he could speak again his voice was cut off by Harry's mouth pressing against his.To say Ron was startled was an understatement. To say he was completely and totally aroused by the way Harry's tongue slid past his lips, the way his lips tasted of cocoa, and the way Harry's fingers felt against his scalp would be one hundred percent accurate.Ron was just starting to respond to the kiss when Harry tore his lips away. Ron followed them, blindly seeking more of Harry, and without warning Harry Apparated."Bloody buggering hell!" Ron shouted and slammed his fist down on Harry's empty chair.Harry hadn't gone far. Actually, he hadn't even managed to Apparate out of the flat, and he blinked several times when he took in his surroundings. The loo,he thought to himself."At least Ron won't think to look here," he muttered under his breath. "He's going to pummel me."Harry sighed heavily and sank down on to the toilet seat. He hadn't really realized why it was so important to keep Ron safe. He'd really just assumed his protectiveness steamed from his friendship with Ron and the loss of Hermione. He'd always known Ron was the thing he'd miss most but he assumed it was because Ron was his best mate.So how long had he been in love with Ron? Since the very beginning? He'd never had the impulse to kiss Ron before now. Sure, he dreamed of him occasionally, but he assumed that was normal.Ron had just looked so…kissable. He had been kneeling on the floor in front of Harry. His eyes were wide and open, his lips were slightly chapped from the winter wind, and he looked so earnest. So completely and totally kissable that Harry hadn't even realized what he was going to do before he did it.Fuck if he hadn't ruined everything between them. Ron was going to hate him.Will he really? He's gay… A small voice taunted Harry. That's why you had Terry following him on dates isn't it? You didn't want to own up to your own feelings?Harry sighed and wondered if he could just stay in the loo all night. He was so tired and he decided if he could just rest for a little bit he'd know what to do. He transfigured a pillow out of the fresh towels Ron must have put on the counter for him and crawled into the bathtub. It wasn't as comfortable as his bed but it would have to do for now.The rain woke Harry up. At least that's what he thought until it began to pour, and it was warm rain. Funny there was a blizzard…"What the hell are you doing, Harry?" Ron shouted his voice bouncing off the tiles and Harry blinked his eyes several times. "Do you have any idea what I've been doing for the last three hours? I've been bloody well searching for you in a blizzard.""You turned the shower on?" Harry wiped the water from his eyes."You are completely missing the point, Harry!" Ron growled.Harry's mouth watered when Ron stripped off his jumper and tossed it into the corner. He licked his lips and stood up but Ron was too quick and stepped into the shower before he could escape. In three seconds he had tossed Harry's wand across the room and pinned Harry to the wall."What point," Harry tried to shoulder himself past Ron. "Let me out. I'm all wet.""No," Ron said firmly and dipped his head. "Why are you running away from me?""I'm not running away," Harry answered. "I fancied a nap!""A nap," Ron repeated. "You fancied a nap in the bathtub? That's completely mental! Let me tell you what I think. You love me, and you're so terrified of feeling anything but unhappiness that you won't let yourself feel me.""That's not true!""It's not?" Ron said calmly and snagged Harry's wrist. "Tell me then: do you feel me?"Harry's knees nearly gave out when Ron pressed his hand to the front of his jeans. He bit his lip and closed his eyes."Open your eyes, Harry," Ron said and Harry could feel Ron's breath ghosting against his lips. "Harry."It took all the effort Harry could muster to open his eyes. His hand was still resting on Ron's jeans and he could feel Ron swelling against his palm. It was the most erotic and frightening thing Harry had ever felt and he wasn't sure whether to run away screaming or to snog Ron senseless."Do you feel me?" Ron repeated and Harry licked his lips several times before responding."Yes.""Do you understand that you do this to me?""But…I—" Harry stammered."You've done this to me for years," Ron whispered his lips brushed against Harry's. "Years—and I assumed you were straight.""Maybe," Harry whispered back. "I'm slightly bent."Ron pressed his hip forward, more firmly into Harry's hand, and he nipped Harry's bottom lip."Don't tease me, Harry," Ron's hands went to the buttons on Harry's shirt. "Don't play games with me. Do you have feelings for me?""I shouldn't.""This isn't about should or shouldn't," Ron said as he slid his hand inside Harry's shirt. "What does this tell you?" Harry shuddered as Ron laid his hand over Harry's heart.Harry couldn't find the words to speak, he couldn't say it, and he did the only thing he could think of. He kissed Ron hard, on the lips, and his hand shook as he undid the Ron's fly. His hand was inside Ron's jeans and under the waistband of his boxers before Ron could begin to respond to the kiss. He pushed his tongue past Ron's lips and swallowed Ron's groan of pleasure as he began to stroke him from tip to base. He moved quickly in case Ron changed his mind and broke away from Ron's lips. He was on his knees before Ron could move and with a muffled groan he took the tip of Ron's cock in his mouth."Harry…" Ron groaned. "Was that a yes?"Harry looked up and released Ron with a rather ungainly slurp."Ron, when a bloke has his lips around your cock, assume the answer is yes." Harry grinned up at him and Ron rolled his eyes."You talk too much, Harry," Ron grunted as Harry licked the head of his cock. "Less talking."Harry really had no idea what he was doing, he was positive that he knew what he liked, and tried to remember the one time he'd had this done to him. He found if he stroked the base of Ron's cock and concentrated on sucking the rest of his length he could do it with out his gag reflex kicking in. He could feel Ron trembling and relished the grunts and moans spilling from Ron's lips.His free hand tugged Ron's jeans down and he realized that the shower was still running. He looked up at Ron and almost lost his breath. Ron was standing with his head thrown back, water was pouring over his head, and his skin glistened with drops of moisture."Ha…rrr..yy…" Ron's mouth hung open and he was gasping for breath. "I want to touch you."His hand slid to Harry's shoulders and he tugged, pulling Harry away from his cock, and up. His hands were shaking as the slid to Harry's flies and he undid them quickly. Harry moaned as Ron claimed his lips, his hips thrust forward as Ron pushed his trousers down, and he raised his leg when Ron closed his hand around his cock."Oh fuck," Harry grunted. "I need.""I know what you need," Ron growled and bent his knees slightly. "I always know what you need."Harry's head fell against Ron's shoulder as Ron lined up their shafts and together they began to stroke. His mouth hung open in a silent moan and he felt his balls tightening. Ron was panting and cursing. They moved together in perfect harmony, the way they always did, and Harry was already close to the edge."Do. You. Have. Feelings." Ron panted in Harry's ear; his hand was stroking faster along their shafts, bumping Harry's, and his tongue darted in and out of Harry's ear."Yes!""Good!"Ron ran his thumb over the tip of Harry's cock and Harry's body shuddered. The drops of water from the shower were like fire against his skin and he sucked the droplets that trailed down Ron's neck as he came. His shout was hoarse and it bounced against the walls and he felt Ron jerk in his arms. Ron grunt mingled with his moans and he felt Ron's release splash over his fingers.They stood there in the shower, panting, their harsh breathing echoed against the tiles, and he felt Harry's legs shook."So do we need," Harry said finally after catching his breath. "To talk about this?"Ron rolled his eyes and pushed Harry under the spray of the shower."You talk too much," he smirked as he bent his head. "Less talking, more snogging."Harry grinned back and closed the distance between them.
10746771	Make Those High Heels	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Brendon Urie, Pete Wentz, Ryan Ross, Spencer Smith, Jon Walker, Dallon Weekes, Patrick Stump", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by just_folie_a_deux_it", "chapters": "18/18", "completed": "2019-06-26", "published": "2017-04-27T00:00:00", "words": "52,263", "Additional Tags": "Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, AU, Maid!Brendon", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie, Brendon Urie/Dallon Weekes, Ryan Ross/Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz, Spencer Smith/Jon Walker", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Panic! at the Disco, Bandom", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Brendon can’t breathe. It’s the only thing running through his head as he curls in the grass, shaking. “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.” It’s being chanted over and over in his thoughts, but the mantra isn’t bringing him any more air than his aching lungs. Everything is overbright, technicolor. The sky is too blue above him—skewed and tilted because he’s on his side, and the grass is a disgusting, unreal green that’s pressing into his cheek. All of the flowers scattered in the bushes that he tends to across the lawn seem to glare at him: red, purple, pink, white. Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen making everything feel like a rainbow is trying to force its way inside of him through his eyes. Maybe he’s dying. For a long time now, what feels like years, the only sound he’s been able to hear is the roar of blood in his own ears and the weak gasps coming from his lips, but suddenly there’s a far away shout and the thud of running footsteps. They seem louder and harder with his ear pressed into the dirt; less human, more giant. They’re closer now, and then suddenly, they stop. The Sun that was just in his eyes moments ago disappears and a cool shadow covers him.“Hey. Hey, can you hear me? Hello? Can you hear me?” The words are warped and far off, but Brendon feels hands touching him.He opens his mouth to reply, but everything is getting hazier and his last thought before it all goes black is, “I am so fired.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- When Brendon comes to, there's a pounding ache that throbs through his skull, threatening to knock him right back out. He raises his hand to his head as his eyes slowly flutter open, hissing when his fingertips probe sore, tender flesh. “Yeah, you—uh—well actually, Spence—uh—well okay, I dropped you and you hit your head,” A voice comes. “But to be fair, I thought Spencer was gonna help and he just kinda let you go, so I fumbled and you just—” There’s the sound of hands smacking together, presumably to demonstrate the way Brendon’s head hit the ground. “So, sorry. It’s probably gonna hurt for a little while.”Brendon blinks dumbly and turns his head slightly to the side. He isn't out on the grass anymore. Someone must have carried him back to his room because there're his clothes hanging over the chair and there’s his guitar propped in the corner, and there is a tall guy looking down at him, sitting in a chair beside his bed.“What happened?” His voice comes out a scratchy croak and he winces. That certainly doesn't help his headache. The guy tilts his head and frowns. “We were kind of hoping you could tell us,” he says. “You’re Brendon, right?”Brendon nods and then groans softly because that was a terrible idea; it feels like his brain is rattling around in his head, slamming against the walls with every shift.“I’m Ryan.”Brendon offers a tired smile, nodding just slightly. "We've met, once or twice."At least, he's pretty sure they did the day he moved in; when he got the job as gardener for internationally known, heir to a large fortune, billionaire brat Pete Wentz, he'd been offered a place in the small house on the property grounds that a few of the other workers lived in too. One of them had been Ryan, and he thinks he can remember the taller man introducing himself when Brendon was unpacking his stuff. That was nearly a year ago, though, and since then Brendon's been working himself to the bone, so he hasn't had the time to hang out with Ryan or his two other roommates, and he's too tired when his shift is over to think of anything other than taking a shower and going straight to bed.“Right, well, if you don’t mind me asking, why were you lying on the ground?” Ryan asks. He looks more concerned than upset, so maybe Brendon’s not in terrible trouble.Brendon thinks back, remembering how that afternoon it had been so damn hot. He’d been trimming the rose bushes and focused on how close he was to being done, so close to being able to go back to the house that he and the three other guys shared and getting all of the sweat, grime, and dirt he was coated in off in the shower. He was excited to play his guitar, too, relax and work on a new song he’d been toying with, and he’d gotten so distracted that he’d cut a large chunk out of one bush. Like, large enough that from afar, you could tell someone had fucked up doing their job. And that someone was Brendon.Though he’d tried just shoving the branches back into place, all he’d amassed were some cuts on his fingers from the thorns and the terrible feeling that if he didn't fix this, he was going to get fired. He was so utterly fucked and he needed this job; if he lost it, he was going to be homeless and unemployed. However, his brain had decided that instead of trying to come up with a logical solution, or at least a good excuse to give to Pete when he asked, it was simply going to throw Brendon into a panic attack. Which was how he’d ended up hyperventilating on the ground when Ryan apparently discovered him.Brendon, however, doesn’t tell any of this to Ryan. He remembers hearing from other staff how close Ryan is to Pete; he's the well-known favorite, and his only job seems to be sitting around and looking pretty. Brendon is positive he's never seen the other man wash a car or wipe off a window, let alone stand out in the hot Sun and do yard work. He’s not about to come off as incapable of doing his job, especially not to someone who has his boss wrapped around their finger. Instead, he just says, “I got overheated. Must have been dehydrated.”Ryan frowns like he doesn’t believe Brendon, but he doesn’t argue with him either. Instead, he just stands and Brendon blinks as he catches full view of him. Ryan’s tall, definitely taller than Brendon, and lanky too, though not necessarily skinny. His light brown hair falls into his eyes a little bit, but Brendon can see that those are brown too, lighter than his own. It’s the first time he’s really had the chance to actually look at the other man and holy shit he’s been missing out.“I’m going to talk to Pete,” Ryan says.Immediately Brendon’s heart begins to race and he thinks he may pass out again. “No! No, please, it really wasn’t that big of a deal, it won’t happen again. One time thing, I promise, please.” He attempts to sit up, but it makes his head spin and Ryan pushes him back down with a hand planted firmly on his chest.“No, this is absolutely ridiculous. It’s absurd of him to make you work out there all by yourself. Spencer gets help from Jon in the kitchen, and I hardly do anything that isn’t like, laundry, so why should you have to do the entire lawn by yourself?” Ryan frowns.Brendon blinks. “You—you’re not going to get me fired?” “Fired?” Ryan's eyes go wide. “Why the hell would I get you fired? I’m gonna go give Pete a goddamn piece of my mind, that’s what I’m gonna do!”“You don’t have to, really, it’s not—”“Shut up,” Ryan says simply. “Pete’s parents come visit sometimes and if they find people fainting all across the lawn because Pete’s a damn jackass, they’ll say something, maybe cut him off. And then not only will he be a little bitch, but we’ll all be out of work.” Ryan glances down at Brendon and smiles slightly. “You stay here and rest, if you need anything call for Spencer,” he murmurs. “I’ll be back.”Brendon nods dumbly, ignoring how it makes his head ache even further. He’s not used to this, not used to being cared for. Not since he was little and still lived with his parents at least. Now this tall man with eyes like honey and a smile that makes his heart skip who Brendon’s never said two words to before is swooping in to save the day? It doesn’t add up, and Brendon can’t help but think that this sort of thing doesn’t come for free.“I owe you one,” he calls as Ryan turns and reaches for the doorknob.It’s not quite a statement, not quite a question, just a sentence hanging there for Ryan to do with as he pleases.“Sure, if you say so.” Ryan shrugs, and the door swings shut. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Despite Ryan’s reassurance that he wasn’t going to get Brendon fired, the latter spends the better part of an hour sitting in a pool of anxiety that sits at the bottom of his stomach and fills him to the brim. He tries to distract himself by taking a nap, but he can't even will his eyes shut let alone drift off, and when he attempts to stand and go get his guitar from the against the wall, it makes him so dizzy he falls right back onto his bed. It's there that he lies, staring up at the ceiling and imagining all of the ways that Ryan will return and inform him that things didn't go the way planned and he is, after all, out of a job. That is, until there’s a knock on the door and he looks up, his fingers picking nervously at the threads of his blanket.“Uhm, come in?” He tries. His voice sounds uncharacteristically high pitched, so he clears his throat and swallows. His heart thumps loudly in his ears and he tugs nervously at his bottom lip with his teeth. This is it: Ryan, coming to tell him that things just didn’t work out and he's gonna have to go. Hell, it could be Pete, and that’d be a thousand times worse.The door swings open and Brendon is shaking as he lifts his eyes, but it’s not Ryan or Pete. It’s a man with eyes so blue he can see the clear, pretty shade from across the room. “Hey, I’m Spencer.” He smiles, just slightly. “I don’t know if Ryan told you that I was here, but we got off early and I was just checking on you,” he explains. “I brought you an ice pack for your head since Ryan dropped you and all,” he sighs. “Sorry about that, by the way. I thought he had you.”Brendon shakes his head quickly and then has to hold a hand to his temple. “Ah, no, no it’s okay. Thanks for—you know, saving me and stuff,” he mumbles, rubbing at his head.Spencer nods. “Of course, I’m just glad you’re alright. We kind of thought you might be dead when we finally got out there; you'd stopped moving and Ryan had to check if you were still breathing.” He steps into the room, balancing the ice pack on one arm with a bottle of pills and water. “Anyways, Ryan should be back pretty soon so I’m gonna go ahead and start dinner,” he says, setting the things on Brendon’s nightstand. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”Brendon smiles gratefully, ignoring the way his cheeks flush slightly. If he thought it was strange having Ryan in his room, it's downright bizarre having Spencer come in and baby him. “Yeah, thank you,” he says. “Seriously.”"It's no problem," Spencer assures before he goes for the door and leaves, shutting it gently with a soft click.Brendon sighs softly as he finds himself alone again. He's surprised to find himself disappointed that Spencer is gone; usually, he's so busy with his job that there's no time to be lonely, but now his empty room seems vast and cold. He’s already scanned every inch of the place, taking note of fine details he’d never cared to notice before like the small chip on the corner of his nightstand and the weird stain on his far wall that he refuses to question for fear of what it might be. There's nothing else do to but think, and that's a rabbit hole he's been spinning down since he woke up; he's passed by all the scenes of Pete firing him that he can handle. In the end, he only lasts fifteen more minutes with his dark thoughts for company before he calls out Spencer’s name. It’s a few long, agonizing seconds before the door cracks open again and Spencer pokes his head in.“Yeah?”Brendon blinks, face paling just slightly. Now that he's facing his roommate, he finds that words won't come; it isn't like he can ask Spencer to drop what he's doing to entertain a man he hardly knows. Brendon's practically a stranger to him at this point.He opens his mouth in hopes that some sort of explanation will spill out, but silence is the only thing that he's rewarded with.Spencer looks back over his shoulder and frowns. “Walker, if that’s my steak burning I swear to God.” There’s a muffled reply and Spencer grits his teeth before turning back to Brendon. “I’ll be right back, excuse me,” he says, flashing a smile before disappearing and shutting the door.A few moments later the door opens again and Spencer reappears, a little flushed. “Okay, what’s up?” “Well, I just—" Brendon bites his lip. What is he supposed to say? That he's bored and lonely and feels like if he doesn't get to do something or talk to someone, he'll cry out of pure frustration?“Spence, I’m done!” A voice calls. “Can I please go relax now seeing as I’m supposed to have been done with work for the past two hours anyway? Unless you're planning on paying me overtime!”Spencer sighs and glares back. “I mean I guess if you want us all to starve!” He cries back. He blinks and then puts a hand on his hip. “Actually, you can come take care of Brendon while I finish dinner!”Brendon stares. “Oh—wait, no that really isn’t—I mean, I don’t—you don’t have to—"Spencer shakes his head. “You don't really have anything fun to do in here anyway, right? I'm not about to make you sit in here all by yourself and bore yourself to death. You’d be doing me a favor if you babysat Jon anyways,” he mutters. “Jonathan Walker, get over here before I—"“I’m coming, I’m coming. Jesus, Spence, we worked all day long, can’t you give it a rest?”A guy shorter than Spencer appears behind him; he’s got messy hair and a good amount of scruff on his cheeks, and an annoyed expression twisting his lips as he frowns at the man in front of him.“Jon, we got off early.” Spencer rolls his eyes. “I’d really like to have dinner done before nine-fucking-o’clock tonight.” The door pushes open wider and the guy—Jon—walks in. “I can hang out with you, dude.” He grins at Brendon, ignoring Spencer. “I’m Jon, you’re Brendon, right?” He asks, offering a hand.Brendon nods slowly and shakes it.“Dinner in forty-five, and Jonathan Walker if you don’t take a damn shower beforehand you are getting nothing to eat,” Spencer threatens.Jon rolls his eyes and waves a hand. “Yeah, yeah.”Spencer glares, his eyes piercing right into the back of Jon’s skull, and Brendon shivers. The door just shuts, though, Spencer on the other side, and the footsteps fade away.Jon hums and ambles over, flopping down on Brendon’s bed and crossing his legs beneath him. “Thanks,” he says, leaning back against the wall and resting his arms behind his head.“For what?” Brendon asks, scooting back so Jon has a little more room.“I hate having to cook dinner with Spencer. He bosses me around all day in the kitchen for our job, I don’t wanna have to come home and deal with his shit too,” Jon laughs. Brendon notes that his eyes crinkle at the sides when he smiles, and they're a deep brown color, like good soil.He shifts, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. “So you two work in the main house kitchens, right?” Jon nods and closes his eyes. “Mhm.”“What’s it like?” Brendon’s never even been inside of the main house except for when he got hired, and he’d been too nervous about getting the job to pay attention to what was around him.“Loud,” Jon says with a small smirk. “It’s usually just me and Spence in there 'cause we mostly only cook for Pete, but I guess Spencer thinks I’m deaf or something because he’s always yelling at me,” he snorts. “But it’s nice,” he adds. “There’s air conditioning and we get to take home whatever we don’t use for the day, so I can't complain too much. You work out on the lawn, yeah?” Brendon nods, holding in the soft sigh threatening to brush past his lips. “Yeah, that’s me.”“Well, what’s that like?”“Hot.” Brendon bites back a bitter laugh. “And sweaty, and there’s lots of dirt.”“Oh yeah, shit, you passed out didn’t you?” Jon frowns. “Spence said that Ryan dropped you. Sounds like him," he mutters, rolling his eyes. "Why don’t you go talk to Pete about getting some help or something? That’s what Spencer did before I came along.” Brendon shrugs, looking back down at his hands as they resume the activity of picking at the threads on his comforter. “I don’t wanna seem ungrateful, y’know? I really need this job and I don’t want Pete to think I can’t do what he’s asking me to.”Jon nods, slowly stroking at the hint of a beard on his chin. “I guess so. But Spencer didn’t get fired and I’m sure he didn’t ask all nice and polite.”“Well, Ryan actually went to go ask for me even though I told him not to,” Brendon sighs. He glances back out the window as if maybe he’ll catch sight of the tall, thin man coming down the walkway, but there’s only the gravel path and the sky beginning to darken.Jon chuckles. “Yeah, Ryan sort of does whatever he wants when it comes to Pete. But hey, that means you for sure won’t get fired 'cause Pete basically does whatever Ryan asks him to even though he’s supposed to be the boss.” Brendon’s not entirely sure what to say to that; he’s heard rumors about Ryan and Pete but he’s not entirely sure how close Jon is to Ryan and saying the wrong thing could go and fuck up any chance he has of keeping his job.Jon, however, doesn’t seem to notice Brendon’s silence on the subject and instead just looks around the room curiously before smiling wide. “Shit, dude, is that yours?” He asks, pointing to Brendon’s guitar in the corner.Brendon nods with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, she’s mine.”“You play?” Jon asks, sitting up a little straighter.“When I’ve got the time.” Which is mostly never, but he’s not about to bitch and whine to a potential new friend.“I’ve got my acoustic back in my room, if you ever get bored or whatever we could totally jam,” Jon offers, his voice enthusiastic and his eyes bright.Brendon blinks and a grin breaks out across his face. “You’re serious?”Jon laughs and Brendon can’t help but find the sound to be pleasing, the kind of noise that relaxes him and brings a strange sort of comfort he can’t quite explain. “Yeah, man, anytime.”Brendon bites his lip, trying not to seem too eager. “Well, I’m bored or whatever right now.” Jon raises a brow and just laughs again, full and happy, and nods. “Alright, I’ll be right back,” he says, climbing down off of the bed and walking out of the room only to return with a beautiful acoustic in his hands.Brendon looks down at the instrument and then back up at Jon. “Damn beautiful,” he breathes.Jon gives a small, appreciative noise and sits down, gently laying the guitar down across his lap before blinking. “Oh, yeah you’re on bedrest,” he says, handing off his instrument to Brendon before standing up and going to the corner to get the guitar. “Here.” Once they swap, Jon sits back down and begins tuning his guitar carefully, tilting his head to listen and Brendon does the same. He hasn’t played in ages and it’s sort of sad to hear the results of his abandonment of something so precious to him.Once he’s satisfied, Jon glances over. “You know any Beatles?” Brendon laughs. “Oh yeah, I know a bit,” he says, easily strumming out the beginning of Across the Universe.Jon smiles and starts following along, humming the tune.As music fills the room and envelopes him in a feeling of effortless contentment, Brendon finds that Jon is one of the easiest people to be around that he's ever met. They play for what feels like hours and hours, time blurring into nothing but a concept, but when the door opens again and Spencer looks in, Brendon’s surprised to see that it’s only been a little over thirty minutes.“Dinner’s ready,” Spencer says, looking a little taken aback to see Jon and Brendon playing together. “I think you’re okay to get out of bed to come eat,” he adds to Brendon. “If you want to.”Brendon blinks and looks to Jon, who nods and motions for Brendon to come on. They all end up sitting at the dining table surrounded by six seats that Brendon has never even touched before. Usually, when he gets home he’s too tired to think about anything other than showering and falling on his bed before passing out, so food consists of a sandwich he takes with him to work for lunch, and maybe a banana for breakfast; dinner is basically non-existent.Now the group is sitting together, though, Spencer dishing out mashed potatoes and green beans and actual, real, cooked steak onto plates, Brendon’s stomach grumbles and he hopes he’s not actually drooling on the table like he thinks he might be.They’re halfway through dinner—and Brendon’s already on thirds—when the front door opens and Ryan steps in.“You’re late,” Spencer notes with a slight frown. “You could at least let us know if you’re staying over there.”He says ‘there’ like one might say ‘cesspool of filth’.Ryan shrugs and flops down into the chair across from Brendon, grabbing a plate and loading it up. “You know I usually don’t know if I’m staying until I’m already there.” Brendon can’t help but notice the hickey just barely visible above Ryan’s shirt collar, and for some reason the sight makes him feel slightly nauseous.Spencer just sighs and doesn’t say anything else about it, though he does exchange a glance with Jon, who gives a sort of knowing grimace.Brendon doesn’t want to ask if Ryan talked to Pete, doesn’t want to sound desperate or needy, but he’s dying to know if he’s at least still got a job. Ryan hasn’t even looked at him yet, though, and this seems like a terrible sign already. He waits, however, and forces himself to maintain some kind of resemblance of patience despite the fact that he feels like he may throw up all of the delicious food Spencer worked so hard to make.Finally, finally, Ryan looks up, smiling slightly. “Oh yeah, Brendon.”Brendon’s heart skips a beat and he thinks it might have just stopped altogether for the way he can’t breathe now.“I talked to Pete,” Ryan starts, taking another bite. “He’s totally cool with you getting help and stuff; he didn’t know you were working so hard and so he wants you to go up to the main house tomorrow to talk to him.”Brendon blinks, unsure if he’s hearing the other boy right. There’s a strange sort of static noise in his ears, and he’s worried for a moment that he might black out, but then Ryan’s talking again so he forces himself to pay attention.“—and I mean, obviously don’t be a total ass, but Pete’s pretty cool so I think you’ll be alright,” Ryan says. “You feeling any better?” He asks, wiping his face with one of the napkins.Brendon nods, absolutely silent. Pete wants to talk to him? Brendon's never even spoken to his high school principal, how in the hell is he supposed to fare against a famous billionaire? “Found him and Jon playing together actually,” Spencer says, looking to Brendon with a soft smile.“Yeah, he’s so fuckin’ good, Ry,” Jon grins. “And he knows The Beatles.”Ryan gives what Brendon takes as a hint of a smile and glances back at Brendon. “Does he?”Brendon nods again. Words are failing him at this point, though he’s not entirely sure why. He should be feeling relieved; he's still got a job, and now he won't have to do everything all on his own like before. Yet, the thought of having to go up the main house tomorrow and talk to Pete makes him feel heavy and sick, like there's a lead ball rolling around in his stomach with the remains of his dinner. Maybe it would have been better if he'd been fired after all. “We were jamming for like, forty-five minutes before dinner,” Jon says with a hum. “He’s really good, I’m telling you.”Brendon blushes and looks down at his half-empty plate. “Not that good,” he laughs slightly. His parents always hated his music, yelling at him to either take it outside or shut up.“Aw, don’t be that guy,” Jon rolls his eyes. “All fake modest and stuff, no one likes that guy,” he teases.Brendon smiles, biting his lip and nodding as he pushes back from the table and grabs his plate. “I think I’m gonna go ahead and go to bed,” he says. “Thank you for everything, Jon, hanging out with me and playing music, and thanks for dinner, Spencer, it was seriously the best.Spencer grins and smiles brightly up at Brendon, his blue eyes sparkling. “That was nothing,” he says. “But thank you.”“No one likes that guy, Spence,” Jon repeats, rolling his eyes. “Night, Bren. See you tomorrow.”Brendon nods and glances at Ryan, who’s looking up at him curiously with a tilted head and arched brow. “Night, Ryan.” “Goodnight, Brendon,” Ryan murmurs. “Sweet dreams.”After he puts his dish in the sink and goes to his room, Brendon strips down, laying in his bed and staring up at the ceiling for a while with thoughts of the morning to come filling his mind. It takes hours but he finally falls asleep and his dreams are filled with tall, lanky boys that leave hot kisses across his skin and whisper sweet nothings about music in his ear. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- When Brendon wakes up he’s coated in sweat, sheets tangled all around his legs. His last dream is still fading from his mind, hazy and blurred, but he thinks he can still remember a warm, gentle mouth on his and careful hands on his skin. He shivers at the thought and blinks slowly. It’s still dark out, Moonlight barely filtering through the space between his curtains, but he can make out the furniture in his room and the soft shadows are just starting to shrink. He doesn’t feel like he’s been out that long, but when he clicks his phone on for the time, 5:31 a.m. and two text alerts glare back at him from the screen. He frowns, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes before unlocking the device.The first message is from Pete. Brendon has to fight back the nauseous feeling that comes when he reads the name, something that isn’t quite fear curling beneath his skin. “Talked to Ry. Come to office @ 12:30 tomorrow.” It isn’t a text notifying him of his termination, but it also isn’t anything to ease the anxious feeling gripping his chest. Ryan hadn’t sounded like Brendon was going to get fired last night at dinner, but that didn’t mean that Pete wasn’t just trying to placate his favorite, and wasn’t going to kick Brendon out the second he walked in the door.He sighs softly, though the sound seems deafening in the quiet of the early morning. Brushing a hand through his hair, he goes to the next message and blinks, surprise flitting across his once sleepy features. “Hope I didn’t fuck your head up too bad, good luck tomorrow. -RR” The message is from a number Brendon doesn’t recognize, but there’s only one person he knows with R initials that also knows Pete. How did Ryan even get his number? The text had been sent at near three in the morning and the idea of Ryan thinking of him so late at night makes Brendon’s stomach squirm in a way he isn’t used to.Sleep is definitely not coming despite the fact that he still has about an hour and a half before his alarm goes off, so he kicks at his covers and stands, stretching; his joints creak and pop and the hard wood of the floor is cool against his bare feet. After making his bed—a habit instilled in him from the days of living with his parents and their strict rules—and pulling some pajama pants and a high school band t-shirt that’s a little too small on, Brendon pads down the hall and towards the kitchen. He can hear someone snoring across the house—Spencer or Jon; Ryan’s room is on the same side of the house as Brendon’s—and he can’t help but smile. Last night had been wonderful; they’d eaten dinner just like a real family, talking and laughing and making jokes. The thought makes Brendon’s heart ache just slightly as he thinks of his own family and what they could have been.In the kitchen he opens up the cabinets, raiding the area for something substantial to eat. ‘Something substantial to eat’ turns out to be a heaping bowl of Cocoa Puffs and a glass of orange juice. He eats in silence for a few minutes; the only sound is of the crunching of cereal in his ears.After a little while, footsteps sound and Brendon looks up from his place hunched over his breakfast. Ryan walks in, hair ruffled with bedhead and just some pajama pants slung low on his hips. He only looks mildly surprised to see Brendon there.“Morning,” The other boy mumbles, shooting Brendon a tired smile.Brendon blushes and swallows the cereal in his mouth, nearly choking, and hurriedly wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “Good morning.”Ryan stretches, arms raised high above his head and pants slipping lower down his hips. “You’re up early,” he notes, arms falling back to his side.Brendon nods, praying to a god he isn’t sure he believes in that his face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. “Couldn’t fall back asleep.” How could he with his job on the line and Ryan texting him at three in the morning?Ryan arches a brow as he makes his way to the coffee pot. “You’re not still worried about Pete?” He asks, getting the machine going before searching the cabinets for a mug.Brendon wants to kick himself for being so obvious, but he just shrugs and bites his lip. “No…”Ryan rolls his eyes and sets the green mug he’d grabbed down next to the whirring coffee pot. He turns and pulls the chair across from Brendon out, falling into it and clasping his hands as he sighs. “You worry too much,” he says, like Brendon has a terminal illness.“What? No, I don’t!” Brendon protests.Personally, he thinks that he worries the perfect amount for a person who’s going to be homeless if they lose their job and then will probably end up dead on the streets proving everyone who never believed in him right.“Yes, you do.” Ryan takes a breath. “You’ve got worry lines.”Brendon blinks and touches his face.Ryan stands again, going to fill his mug as the coffee finishes. “Do you want some?” “Oh no, I don’t do caffeine.” Brendon shakes his head. “Makes me all hyper and shit, trust me you don’t wanna see that.”Ryan shrugs and tops himself off before taking a sip. Brendon watches as the steam swirls around the other boy’s face as he drinks. “You know,” Ryan starts, setting his mug back down and leaning back, resting one hand on the counter. “I do yoga each morning to help with my stress levels. You could join me today if you want. Might help with your anxiety.”Brendon blinks and he doesn’t think he could hide the surprise on his face if he tried his hardest. “You do yoga?” He tries not to sound too judgmental, but Ryan seems like the last guy who would do yoga every morning. Brendon can’t help but think of how his body must look all stretched and taut, muscles straining. He shakes his head, trying to clear it of the image.“What? Have Spencer and Jon been making fun of me again?” Ryan frowns, looking uncharacteristically embarrassed and a little indignant.“Huh? No, no, they haven’t said anything about it! I just didn’t know is all,” Brendon says quickly. “Yoga is cool—I mean, I—I’ve never done it—but it seems cool and stuff.”Ryan nods, offering a hand to Brendon. “It is cool. It’s relaxing,” he says. “Come on, we can do some basic stuff. I’ll teach you the fundamentals, maybe you’ll feel better about your meeting with Pete after.”Brendon highly doubts that, but he takes Ryan’s hand, trying not to blush and giggle like a stupid kid as he stands. Yoga may be good for like, meditating and your soul and shit, but he doesn’t think that even hardcore drugs could help him not be terrified at the thought of his meeting with Pete.The two go into the living room and Ryan pulls the curtains back and away from the windows. Sunlight streams in through the glass and once Ryan pushes the shades away from the back door, the entire room glows with the natural yellow of daytime.Brendon blinks and rubs his eyes. “So, um, do we like say ‘Ummmm’ and stuff?” He asks. He feels like a complete ass, but he’s got no idea what to do.Ryan laughs just slightly and shakes his head, pulling out two blankets from the corner of the room. “No, just follow my lead. Watch me and just listen to what I say.”He spreads the blankets out and steps onto one.Brendon nods, though he’s sure that by the time this is over he’ll either have a broken bone or Ryan will be so offended by his terrible attempt at yoga that he’ll never speak to Brendon again. He steps onto the blanket and glances over at the other boy who is stretching. His arms go high over his head, fingertips nearly touching the ceiling, and Brendon takes a breath before raising his limbs as well.“Pretend that you’ve got a string through your middle,” Ryan says softly, his voice gentle and soothing. “It’s pulling you up, straight, and going right through your core and out your fingertips.”Brendon nods and notices that Ryan’s eyes are closed, so he shuts his as well and tries imagining this string pulling at him.“Deep breath in,” Ryan says, inhaling deeply. “And then out, and let yourself come back down,” he exhales, and Brendon peeks one eye open to see Ryan’s arms fall back down to his sides. “It’s important that you focus on your breathing. Keep it deep and slow, and also don’t strain yourself,” Ryan murmurs. “Now we’re gonna do a pose, okay? We’ll start easy.”Brendon nods, dropping his arms down and watching Ryan. This isn’t so bad, and it is kind of relaxing if he makes himself really focus on it. With his ADHD that’s not exactly easy, but it does keep his mind off of Pete and the meeting.“Okay,” Ryan says, exhaling again and turning to look at Brendon. After having his eyes closed for so long, the sight of Ryan’s gaze upon him makes Brendon nearly fall over. “We’ll do warrior pose, alright?” He twists, bringing his arms up and to the side, head turning away from Brendon for a moment as he stretches and then does the same movement again for the opposite side.Brendon nods as if he knows what warrior pose is. “Yeah, okay,” he murmurs, taking his right wrist in his left hand and following Ryan’s movements.Warrior pose turns out to be much more difficult than Ryan had made it sound, and Brendon spends a good five minutes with his calves straining and Ryan’s hands on his hips, trying to keep him steady.“You’re doing good, just exhale and see if you can go down a little further,” Ryan murmurs, his lips dangerously close to Brendon’s ear, breath tickling his skin.Brendon nods and lets out his breath, sinking just a little lower. He can feel his muscles begging for relief, but Ryan is so warm and close to him that he can’t bring himself to tap out. Not yet at least.“Good, good, now we’re gonna come back up, alright?” Ryan breathes. “Slow and careful, don’t wanna pull anything,” he adds. His voice is soft and airy, and it soothes and reassures Brendon in a way he didn’t know was possible, especially while he feels like he’s about to split his pants down the middle.Warrior pose turns into a Sun Salutation, which then morphs into a tree pose. Ryan has to help him there too, holding Brendon’s sides so he doesn’t tip over and spill out all over the floor.“We’re gonna slowly go back to our mountain pose, okay?” Ryan murmurs, guiding Brendon back onto two feet and letting him shift to a normal stance. “Now we’ll go into Downward Dog, are you ready?”It takes every ounce of willpower that Brendon has not to giggle at the name, and even more energy to force himself not to imagine the two of them in any more dog-like poses together. “Downward Dog, got it.” He nods, taking a breath just to try and shake his thoughts into cleaner ones.Ryan starts by raising his arms up into the air again—Brendon has noticed that a lot of poses start with raising your arms up into the air—and then practically bends himself in half, chest flush against his legs as he touches his toes.“Uh, I really don’t think I can do that without ripping myself in half?” Brendon squeaks, hands still hanging limply in the air.Ryan gives a small laugh and turns his head so he can look over. “You don’t have to do it exactly like me, just stretch yourself and try and touch your toes, okay? It’s not about doing it perfectly, it’s just about doing what feels right to you.”Brendon inhales deeply and nods, closing his eyes as he bends over. They move from the weird bent-in-half pose to a strange one where he feels like a triangle, both hands on the floor in front of his feet and ass high in the air. He silently prays that Spencer and Jon won’t walk in on them like this.“Take a few deep breaths like this, focus on the air coming in and out of your lungs and with each exhale let one of your anxieties escape with the air,” Ryan breathes out.Brendon turns to see the other boy is almost a perfect right angle with his palms flat on the floor and eyes closed. With each exhale he looks a little calmer, a little more at peace with himself. Nothing like the boy who had come home late last night and been chastised by Spencer.After a few minutes of being in Downward Dog and doing deep breathing—he tried imagining that every time he let out some air, little Petes were fluttering away too—Brendon manages to get himself back up into a standing position and turns to see Ryan smiling at him, warm as the Sun streaming in through the windows. “You did really well.” Brendon grins and opens his mouth to politely disagree when he hears noises in the kitchen.Ryan sighs. “That’ll be Spence and Jon,” he mutters. “Better go shower and get ready for work then, I’m due in an hour.”Brendon turns and sees that indeed Jon is rummaging in the fridge and pulling out a couple of eggs. He looks back to Ryan. “Do you think I’m supposed to work today too?” He asks, biting his lip.Ryan shakes his head. “Nah, you should probably just rest until you have to go see Pete,” he says, bending down to pick up the blankets on the floor and toss them back into the corner. “I’ve got to go get ready, but I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”God, Brendon hopes so. “Yeah, see you tonight.” He smiles. “And thanks for...this, too.” He waves a hand around, blushing just slightly.Ryan smiles and nods. “If you want, we can do it again tomorrow.”Brendon nods eagerly. “Yeah, absolutely, I’d love to!” Despite his doubts, Brendon does feel a little better. And if that has to do more with the fact that he just spent thirty minutes with Ryan touching and guiding him than the yoga itself, well, he’s not about to protest.Ryan gives a small wave as he goes down the hall, presumably to shower—which Brendon totally isn’t going to think about just in case these pajama pants are as noticeably thin as they feel—and Brendon goes back to the kitchen.“Morning,” he says brightly, unable to keep a goofy smile off of his face.Jon turns from his place at the stove where he skillfully cracks an egg into a skillet one-handed. “Morning.” He smiles, voice rough from sleep. “Feeling better? How’s the head?” Brendon raises a hand to carefully feel along his temple and nods. “Yeah, better. A bump, but it doesn’t hurt as bad.”“Good, that’s good. Did you already eat or did you want some breakfast before Spence comes in and claims the whole damn kitchen for himself?” Jon turns back to his eggs and cracks another.“I had some cereal, but thanks,” Brendon hums.“Cereal? That’s all you ate?” Spencer walks in, a hand on his hip.“Uh, well I had some juice too?” Brendon tries, biting his lip. Spencer looks a scary amount like Brendon’s mother when he’s only eaten junk food for a week.“Jon, make the boy an omelet,” Spencer sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No wonder you passed out yesterday, is that what you eat every morning?” He grabs the box of cereal, glancing at it. “Cocoa Puffs?!”“Uh, well I don’t actually usually eat breakfast.” Brendon is slowly sinking into his seat as if maybe he can disappear from the wrath that is apparently Spencer when someone doesn’t eat a balanced meal every day.Jon turns and shakes his head. “You’re going to give him a str—”“I’m getting a stress headache, Jon, please feed him,” Spencer mutters, one hand rubbing at his forehead.Jon sighs and goes back to his eggs, cracking two more into the skillet and then glancing at Brendon with a ‘What did I tell you?’ sort of look.Brendon shrugs and smiles sheepishly, trying to look apologetic as Spencer pours himself a cup of coffee.“So, are you ready for your meeting with Pete today?” He asks before taking a sip.“I dunno, more ready than I was before, I guess,” Brendon says, tapping his fingers on the wood of the table. “I did yoga with Ryan this morning and that kind of helped.”Spencer snorts and looks as if he’s nearly inhaled his coffee. “You did yoga with Ryan? And you didn’t try to strangle him?”“What? No, I didn’t try to strangle him, he was very helpful!”Jon turns around, spatula in one hand waving dangerously. “Ryan’s tried to get us to do yoga too, don’t try and bullshit. We know how he can be.”“Yeah, I fucking twisted my ankle after one of his little yoga sessions and he got mad at me because I like, fucked with his inner balance or some shit!” Spencer scowls and takes another angry sip of his coffee.Jon nods gravely. “He takes his yoga very seriously and has no problem with dismembering anyone who gives him any grief about it.”“Especially us,” Spencer spits.Brendon doesn’t say anything to that, just thinks about how sweet and caring Ryan had been when they were stretching and doing poses. He wasn’t anything like this control freak monster that Jon and Spencer are describing.Jon comes over and sets a plate of scrambled eggs down. “Here, eat up. Don’t wanna go see Pete on an empty stomach, it’ll just make you feel worse.” Brendon looks up, smiling gratefully. “Thank you.”“No problem.” Jon waves a hand and goes back to his own eggs.Brendon takes a bite of his eggs and—upon finding them to be absolutely mouthwatering—devours them as if he hasn’t eaten in weeks. By the time he’s done Ryan is walking out of his room with still–drying hair and dressed in all black.“Okay, I’m off. See you guys tonight, good luck, Brendon!” He calls as he shuts the front door.Brendon waves and tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as he realizes that he’s getting closer and closer to having to go see Pete. He tries procrastinating by talking to Jon and Spencer about anything and everything, but they have to go off to work too and then he's alone. He tries taking the world’s longest shower, but there’s only so many times you can sing “Fly Me To The Moon” to yourself and he starts getting pruney after an hour anyway. Getting dressed is an ordeal because he usually just wears jeans and a t-shirt to go work outside, maybe a hat if it’s really sunny, but he’s not sure what Pete’s expecting from him. He’s not sure anyone’s ever had a panic attack over which shade of blue dress shirt to wear, but there’s a first time for everything he supposes.Eventually, he’s clean and dressed with his hair combed and teeth brushed, anxiously tapping his foot as he sits at the edge of his bed. He’s got fifteen minutes before he has to leave and it’s eating away at him slowly. He wishes there were someone who could at least walk with him there, but he knows Spencer and Jon are busy with lunch by now and he wouldn’t know where to find Ryan, even if he were brave enough to go looking.Finally, he takes a deep breath and stands, going down the hall and to the front door. He closes his eyes and tries breathing deep like he had been doing with Ryan during yoga, but he jerks and gasps as his phone buzzes in his pocket. “Deep breaths, you’ll do fine. See you tonight. -RR” Brendon blinks and smiles softly to himself, biting his lip. Ryan’s right; he’ll do just fine. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Brendon is absolutely not doing just fine.He’d made it as far as the walkway up to the main house, but after seeing the huge mansion looming over him ominously, he’d promptly dove into the bushes next to the pathway and curled into a ball. He’s been there for what must be close to fifteen minutes by now, arms wrapped around his trembling knees. These are his bushes; some of the ones he tends to on a daily basis. The particular bush he’s hiding in has roses that are only just beginning to bloom. The sharp thorns of the flowers are stabbing into his arms and scratching his face, making his eyes water from the pain, but he can’t bring himself to care. Getting impaled in the eye by flowers still sounds more appealing than having to go talk to Pete.He’s strongly considering army-crawling his way back out of the bushes and running home to pack his things up and disappear before anyone can notice when he hears the sound of footsteps on gravel. He freezes instantly, holding his breath and silently begging whoever is coming to disappear.“Uh, hello?” A voice comes, far too close for Brendon’s comfort.Brendon squeaks and looks up, spotting a confused face through all of the leaves in his eyes. He pops up, twigs and flower petals in his hair, his cheeks hot. “Hello,” he tries, a nervous smile flitting across his lips.There’s a tall man—giant, even; he towers above Brendon, resembling a skyscraper more than a human—with dark hair and deep blue eyes that sparkle brightly as he squints in the Sun. He’s staring down at Brendon curiously. “Uh, hello.” He smiles back, looking more than confused. “May I ask what you’re doing in the bushes?”Brendon blinks and looks around as if he’s only just realized where he is. “O—oh, well, you see it’s a funny story actually,” he laughs, though he sounds sort of hysterical to himself. “I just—uh, I was making sure everything was growing right is all.” He’s so goddamn awful at lying it’s not even funny. After being raised by parents who absolutely did not tolerate anything less than absolute honesty, it leaves a queasy anxious feeling in Brendon’s stomach to do so.The man looks even more perplexed, but just laughs along, nodding. “Well, if there’s anything you see that’s, uh, growing wrong just let me know and I promise I’ll fix it right up. I’m the new gardener.” He beams.The words seem to come at Brendon in slow motion, taking ages to hit his ears, but when they do it’s suddenly as if a fist has been shoved into his chest and wrapped around his heart, squeezing as hard as it possibly can. He can’t breathe, his lungs are burning from the tight feeling that’s suffocating him. “Are you?” “Yeah, I just got hired today.” The man grins, and Brendon notes that there are in fact, a pair of hedge clippers in his hands. “I’m Dallon, by the way,” he adds, shifting the tool to one hand so he can offer his free one to Brendon.Brendon nods and watches his own hand reach out and clasp Dallon’s to shake it; it feels as though his limbs are moving on their own. There’s already someone new to take his place. “Brendon,” he hears himself murmur distantly.“It’s nice to meet you. I’d like to stay around and chat, but I’ve got work to do since it’s my first day and all,” Dallon laughs cheerfully. “But I’ll see you around!” He adds before waving and walking off down the path.Brendon watches his replacement walk away for a moment before he turns back to the mansion. It seems pointless to even go inside now, it’s obvious he’s been fired. Pete’s gone and hired a new gardener before he even let Brendon go. And really, Brendon can’t blame him; Dallon seems incredibly friendly and genuine, and hardworking too, and he’s got a smile that’s infectious. Brendon never even stood a chance. Still, maybe he’ll get some sort of severance or something; any extra money is a dire need at this point.He swallows with some difficulty before taking an unsteady breath and steps forward, reaching out to ring the doorbell. Loud chimes sound and Brendon waits, staring at the intricately carved wooden door before him; images of different animals and fancy swirls and even what Brendon thinks could be Pete riding a flying horse are delicately inscribed. After what seems like an eternity that has Brendon grinding his teeth and shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the ringing stops and the large door opens, an elderly man appearing in the doorway.“Ah, Mr. Urie,” Pete’s butler croaks out. “I’ve been told we’re to expect you. Please, come right this way.”Brendon nods and cautiously steps inside, careful not to trip on the massive rug that’s spread across the marble floors. The mansion is just what Brendon pictures when he imagines what a filthy rich person with all the time in the world might decorate their home like. There’s a giant chandelier hanging above them, sparkling and throwing rainbow prisms across the floor and making the two roaring bronze tiger statues on either side of the front door shine. Directly in front of him is an enormous staircase that seems to go on forever, the banisters made of some sort of dark wood that looks incredibly smooth. As he follows the ancient butler, Brendon tries to focus on not throwing up. It’s all he can do to not pass out right on the floor, but he feels like vomiting all over the expensive area rug might possibly land him in even deeper trouble.“Master Wentz,” The butler wheezes. “Your guest has arrived.”Brendon steps slowly into the next room, blinking in surprise when he sees that they aren’t in the cluttered office he had been hired in before, but are instead in what appears to be some sort of giant media room. There’s a huge screen on the far wall that takes up the entire space that displays what looks like a car racing video game, and at least twenty different gaming systems plugged into various outlets.“Oh, Brendon, hey!”Brendon tears his eyes from the explosion of a crash that just took place on screen to look at Pete. The billionaire is sprawled out on a large purple beanbag chair that looks as if it might swallow him whole, the color nearly identical to the aubergine hoodie he’s wearing. A fringe of dark hair flops out over one eye beneath his hood, and Brendon’s not sure how he can even see enough of the screen to play the game with his hair blocking his vision, but he’s not brave enough to ask. Bare feet with painted black toes peek out beneath skinny jeans that are the dark blue of fresh denim that hasn’t seen a washing machine very many times. There’s a controller clasped in his hand and he’s rapidly pressing buttons—even as he glances over at Brendon.“H—hey,” Brendon says, trying to ignore the way the blood roaring in his ears sounds frighteningly similar to the car crash noises from Pete’s game.“So, Ryan came and told me about what happened the other day,” Pete says, eyes not leaving the screen as his car—a sparkling purple one with hotrod flames painted on the side in black—rounds a corner and smashes into a red Corvette.Brendon nods and swallows against the lump in his throat. No fucking way is he crying in front of Pete, no matter how bad his eyes are burning from tears. He’s not about to further embarrass himself by breaking down while getting fired. “Yeah—yeah, I didn’t actually—”“He was pretty pissed and I don’t really like dealing with that kind of shit so I said I’d fix things, you know?” Pete murmurs, leaning his entire body over as he tries to pass up a blue jeep. Do jeeps even race? Brendon has no idea, but he also doesn’t have any clue about racing games so he keeps his mouth shut.“I understand,” Brendon whispers. He feels like he’s shrinking down smaller every second. Pete’s video game crashes sound like something from a goddamn war movie.“So, I was thinking that you probably shouldn’t work in the garden anymore. I went ahead and hired this guy and his crew, cuz like, obviously the grounds are so big one person shouldn’t have to work that,” Pete laughs slightly as he mashes down on a button and his car lights up, immediately passing the person in front of him.“Right, right of course.” Brendon’s not entirely sure Pete is even listening to him at this point, he seems so preoccupied with his game.“So since Dallon has the gardens, I figured that you could work indoors, in the house,” Pete chirps before giving a loud whoop as he zooms past the finish line with a large number one spinning across the screen.“I underst—wait, what?” Brendon blinks. He had to have heard wrong, he was supposed to be getting fired.“We really need some more people on housekeeping, Chives isn’t getting any younger and Allyson just had her baby so the place is kind of falling apart at this point,” Pete laughs, gesturing around.There are a few chip bags crumpled on the floor and empty soda cans surrounding Pete, but it doesn’t seem that bad to Brendon. He’s also pretty sure that the butler’s name is Alan.“You want me to be your housekeeper?” Brendon asks, tilting his head.“Yeah, I mean, you’re like a precious little flower fainting outside and shit, right? Probably best to keep you indoors, you can be the maid or whatever.” Pete waves a hand, tossing his controller to the floor and standing. He brushes the crumbs off of his front and nods to the door. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll work and stuff.”Brendon flushes, not entirely sure how he feels about being called a flower and a maid all in one sentence. He’s not even sure if Pete was trying to be degrading or was just making some kind of weird joke. Either way, he’s not about to say anything for fear of actually being fired, despite his level of resentment towards the comparison. He just follows Pete down the hall and into another room where tons of uniforms are hanging and a large amount of cleaning supplies are available.“So, whatever you need should be in here,” Pete says, pulling out his phone and clicking on some buttons. “If it’s not, just like, find it I guess? You’re in charge of the upstairs rooms and bathrooms, clean them daily, uh, you can come in at like eight?” He giggles softly at some text Brendon can’t see. “Basically just make sure that the rooms look nice in case my parents show up cuz I really don’t wanna listen to them bitchin’. I’m sure you get it.” Pete shrugs, pressing another button before looking back up at Brendon.Brendon nods quickly, though he can’t remember the last time his parents took the time to 'bitch' at him for something as trivial as having an unclean room. Their fights were always about something terrible and tragic Brendon had done. “I understand, come in at eight, make sure everything is clean in case of a surprise visit.”Pete grins wide, his smile seeming far too large for his face. “Yeah, you got it.” He nods. “Sweet, okay so that takes care of Ryan’s bitch fit and you won’t be like, collapsing or anything, cool.”Brendon tries his best to keep his face neutral, but he’s not entirely sure that Pete is even really aware he’s still there, or even actually knows who he is. He seems far more focused on his phone and whoever is texting him.“So, what should I wear?” Brendon asks.Pete blinks. “Ah,” He looks around and snatches a hanger before snorting. It’s a stereotypical French maid outfit, fluffy skirt and all. “Well, you are the maid, right?” He smirks at Brendon.Brendon flushes brightly, not sure if he’s more embarrassed or angry. Pete seems to be taking his job like some sort of joke instead of the source of Brendon’s income and the way he stays alive. Still, he isn’t sure if Pete’s kidding or not, so he takes the hanger. “Yeah, I’m the maid,” he mumbles.Pete looks a little taken aback that Brendon actually took the costume, but quickly his features shift to an expression of being mildly impressed. He eyes Brendon up and down before nodding. “Alright then, work starts tomorrow,” he says, looking back down at his phone and biting his lip. “Don’t be late,” he adds before walking out of the supply closet without even offering to show Brendon out.Brendon waits until he’s sure that Pete is gone before he glares back down at the stupid maid costume and kicks the floor. Pete isn’t the terrifying boss that he remembers, but instead appears to be a spoiled little rich boy who doesn’t know the value of a day’s work. Brendon feels like a damn idiot for stressing over their ‘meeting’ in the first place.All he can find for shoes in the damn closet are a pair of high heels and he figures if Pete was serious about the maid outfit he’s probably expecting Brendon to go all the way with it. He grits his teeth and bends down to snatch the shoes up, hanging onto the ‘uniform’ as he walks out of the supply closet. Pete may be an asshole, but Brendon’s not going to fuck up this job too, especially after he was lucky enough to get transferred this time. He’s pretty sure that even Ryan (a.k.a Pete’s prized possession) won’t be able to save him twice.He sighs softly as he walks back down the hall, shaking his head. At least when he worked outside, Brendon could mostly do his own thing. Pete never came to check on him or tell him what to do, and since he never complained, Brendon assumed he was doing an alright job. Now that he’s working in the house, and in a fucking Halloween costume nonetheless, he’s pretty sure he’s gonna be under Pete’s watch a little closer. Still, at least he has a job, and if that means he has to work in some humiliating outfit, well, he’ll still take it.---By the time Jon and Spencer get home, Brendon has hung up his ‘uniform’, tidied his room up a bit, and began looking up tips on cleaning stuff. He’s curled up on the couch with a few magazines stacked around him, currently flipping through Good Housekeeping when the door opens.“—ust saying that you don’t have to yell at me every single time something doesn’t go your way, especially when it’s not my fault.” Jon snaps as he pushes through the door, arms full of grocery sacks.“Well, it is your fault when you’re the one who spilled my hollandaise sauce all over the kitchen floor because you were too busy trying to change the radio station to pay attention to what’s around you,” Spencer huffs.Jon just rolls his eyes. “No, it’s not my fault, because you’re the one who was playing shitty music, so if I didn’t have to change it none of this would ever have happened in the first place!”“Britney Spears is not shitty music!” Spencer shrieks.Brendon clears his throat and pokes his head up over the couch to look at the pair. “Hey, guys.”Job blinks and looks over before his face splits into a smile. “Hey, Brendon. How did your talk with Pete go?”Brendon sets his magazine down and pushes the rest of them off of his lap so he can stand up. “It went...uh, good? I think?”“You think?” Spencer asks, frowning. “What happened?”Brendon shrugs as he follows them into the kitchen. “Well, I mean I didn’t get fired,” he says, automatically going to unpack one of the bags to help put the groceries away.“That sounds good to me, so you’re still working the yard then?” Jon asks.Brendon shakes his head. “No, no. Not doing that anymore,” he says vaguely, putting a bunch of fruits over in a pile so he can empty the paper bag.“Well, what are you doing then?” Spencer asks. “And you don’t have to help us, it’s really alright, Bren,” he adds.“I’m the new...maid?”“The new what,” Jon says flatly, nearly dropping the pack of meat he has in his hands.“Pete hired me as the new housekeeper,” Brendon says, going onto the next sack of groceries.“Ho—”“I’m home!” Ryan calls from the living room, kicking the door shut and interrupting whatever Jon was about to say.“You’re early,” Spencer notes, his voice a strange mix of surprise and sharpness.“Yeah, Pete’s been playing some weird new racing game all day so he just let me go home after I beat him.” Ryan shrugs, kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt.“You didn’t just stay?” Spencer asks, arching a brow.“No, I ‘didn’t just stay’, I live here too, you know.” Ryan frowns. “Anyways, what’s new?” He asks, leaning back against the counter. “How’d your talk with Pete go, Brendon?”Brendon jumps just slightly as he’s addressed, still not quite used to interacting with everyone this way. The past twenty-four hours have been the most he’s ever spoken to any of them in the entire time he’s been working here and it’s a little strange to be a part of the group.“Pete made him the new housekeeper,” Jon says, his face inscrutable.Ryan looks a little surprised, but gives a small half-smile. “Really, he did?” Brendon nods. “Yeah, apparently he hired a new guy and his crew to work the yard and put me inside.”Ryan snaps his fingers and nods. “Yeah, hey, that’s right I did meet someone new today. Really happy guy, ah what was his name? Derek or Dylan or something.”“Dallon,” Brendon pipes up. “I met him too, he seems really nice.”“Is he gonna live here?” Spencer asks as he goes back to unpacking the groceries.Ryan shakes his head and snatches an apple up, taking a bite. “No, he said he didn’t live that far away so he was just gonna come up here for work,” he says. “We talked for a few minutes on my way back here, seems like he knows his stuff.”Brendon nods. “Yeah, we talked for a little bit too, he was really friendly.” It’s a lot easier to like Dallon when he’s not threatening Brendon’s job security.Ryan glances over, arching a brow. “I guess. Kind of weird, though, that he was so nice,” he mutters.Spencer turns to look back at Ryan, an expression that Brendon can’t read in his eyes. “Anyways, I’m glad that you don’t have to do all of that work outside by yourself anymore, Brendon.” “Because being a part of housekeeping is better?” Jon asks, crossing his arms.“What’s wrong with housekeeping?” Brendon frowns.“Housekeeping is just Pete’s—”“Do not start with that shit again,” Ryan snaps, putting his half-eaten apple down.“Housekeeping is Pete’s what? What’s wrong with housekeeping?” Brendon asks, looking around the room at anyone for an answer.“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with housekeeping. You hardly have to do anything, and they’re just mad because they have to work the kitchens all day. It’s why they come home so bitchy,” Ryan says, pushing up off of the counter.Spencer just shakes his head and begins washing his carrots, though Brendon notes the muscle in his jaw is clenched and he’s scrubbing at the vegetables quite violently.“I’m going to go change and take a nap,” Ryan says. “Don’t try and fill his head with all that bullshit, you’ll just scare him,” he adds, glaring at Spencer before going down the hall.Once he’s gone, Brendon turns to Jon. “What’s wrong with being a housekeeper?”Jon sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Housekeeping is just Pete’s bitches. It’s people that Pete thinks are hot and he doesn’t really give two shits what they do as long as he thinks they look good doing it. Ryan works housekeeping though so he’s super defensive about it, gets all pissy when we bring it up.”“Why?” Brendon asks, biting his lip. He’s not actually sure he wants to know the answer.“Because he knows that we’re right, and he also knows that we know exactly what goes on in that house.” Spencer grits his teeth.“What goes on?” They’re both making it sound like some horrible underground secret club that’s going to eat Brendon alive.“Don’t worry about it,” Jon says softly, ruffling Brendon’s hair. “You just keep your nose clean and do your job and nothing bad will happen, okay?”Brendon wants to argue, but the look in Jon’s eyes tells him to stay quiet.“Dinner’s gonna be about an hour, why don’t you go rest up too?” Spencer says, setting his carrots on a cutting board and turning to look at Brendon. “I’m not sure you’re still at a hundred percent from yesterday, I’ll get Jon to bring you some water, alright?”Spencer’s expression is almost pained and Brendon can’t bring himself to protest so he just nods. “Yeah, okay.” As he goes back to sit on the couch and read his magazines, thoughts of work the next day and whatever mysterious, awful things that seem to happen in the mansion flip through his head. He can’t really even focus on The 8 Dirtiest Places In the House, but he’s got nothing to do except wait and see what comes. He sighs. It’s going to be a long night. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- That night Brendon spends only a small amount of time sleeping. When he isn’t staring up at the ceiling playing scenarios in his head of what might happen to him the next morning—each one more terrifying than the one before it—nightmares plague every hellish moment that his eyes are closed. Jon’s vague and sinister mentions of what goes on in the Wentz mansion end up giving Brendon the worst anxiety-induced stomach ache he’s ever had; all he can think about is the unrelenting morning that’s headed his way and the horrors it could bring.By the time the bright Moonlight shining through his window begins to dim and warp the shadows across Brendon’s wall as it gives way to the Sun, he’s a wreck. Upon inspecting himself in the mirror before going to take a shower, Brendon notes that the usual light shadows of circles under his eyes are dark enough to look like bruises and his is skin seems marginally paler than it should, especially for someone who used to constantly work outdoors. He desperately hopes that Pete won’t think he looks sick—not on his first day.The thought of his employer makes Brendon’s skin crawl and he shudders, shaking his head. Quickly, he goes to turn on the shower, not having to wait long for the steam to rise and fill the room. As long as he gets his job done and keeps his nose clean like Jon said, he should be fine. Jon said he would be fine.The hot water is enough to distract him for a little bit, soothing his tired muscles and making his eyes heavy, the scent of his lavender shampoo a small comfort. It’s the same stuff he always used back at his parent’s house when he shared a bathroom with his sisters, and the smell makes his chest pang with nostalgia. Before any homesick-esque thoughts can creep into his mind, Brendon rinses the suds from his hair and turns the water off. After rubbing a towel over his head and doing a half-assed job of drying off the rest of his body, he resigns himself to getting ready for the day.The godawful costume is still hanging on his door, all lace and frills, almost teasing him from its spot above him. Brendon grits his teeth and shakes his head, sighing and snatching the outfit down and glaring at it for a moment before dropping the towel around his waist and beginning to get dressed. Putting it on proves to be a far more difficult task than he’d first imagined it would be; the uniform is actually a lot less cheap than he’d assumed. It isn’t just some knock-off Halloween costume, but proves to be a genuine ensemble with a million different pieces. The bodice is made of some soft fabric Brendon can’t help but rub against his cheek for a moment, a little shocked. Getting the dress on is the easiest part, as he can just pull that over his head; the rest of it is what gives him the most difficulty. By the time he’s finished and looking at himself in the full-length mirror on the door of his wardrobe, nearly an hour has passed. It’s an hour wasted, too, because he looks absolutely fucking ridiculous.The dress is far too short, barely covering his ass and making it stick out beneath the ruffled skirt that bounces with every movement he makes. He keeps having to tug it down, praying that no one will notice he’s not wearing any underwear since the goddamn fishnet stockings that came with everything refused to have boxers stuffed into them. There’s a little apron he had trouble tying around his waist that he isn’t entirely sure has a purpose as it’s much too small to actually protect him from any stains, and looking at himself from behind he can see the bow he tried to make around his waist is pathetic at best. It doesn’t help that he’s got absolutely no cleavage, so the front of the dress dips lower than he’s sure it would on someone who actually has breasts. To top it all off, there’s a choker with white lace and a little black bow that matches a pair of cuffs for his wrists, and a stupid frilly headband that sits in his hair. Not to mention the goddamn high heels that he absolutely can not walk in without tripping over himself; he’s a disaster waiting to happen and all he can do is hope that he still has a job by the end of the day.A glance at his phone tells Brendon that he’s got thirty minutes before he’s got to go, but he can hear the sounds of people moving outside of his door and the idea of approaching any of his newfound friends looking like this makes him want to throw up and cry all at once. He knows he’ll have to face them sooner or later, though, and before he can stop himself he’s walking down the hallway and into the kitchen.“Morning, Brend—what the fuck are you wearing?” Jon asks, very nearly dropping the plate of pancakes in his hands.Brendon can feel his cheeks flaming bright red, but he clears his throat and steadies himself. “Just my uniform.”“Your what?” Jon’s voice raises a good two octaves and Brendon thinks he really should try and save that plate of pancakes before they end up on the floor surrounded by shards of glass.“What is all of this goddamn yelling, I’m going to get a str—oh my.” Spencer quite literally stops in his tracks as he enters the room, staring at Brendon with wide blue eyes that hide none of his surprise. “Brendon, honey, I know that those magazines probably had a lot of pictures of pretty girls in outfits like that, but you know that won’t actually help with the cleaning part, right?”“He says it’s his uniform,” Jon mutters darkly, setting the plate down on the counter a little harder than Brendon was expecting.“What? That’s absurd, Brendon, you don’t have to wear that; I’m sure even if Pete said you did he was only joking,” Spencer says quickly.Brendon shakes his head. “I don’t care,” he says simply. It’s not entirely true, he very much cares and would rather wear almost anything besides what he’s in at this moment, but the idea of letting Pete win—and it feels like if he changes, Pete is winning—makes Brendon’s blood boil and he’d rather bear the humiliation of wearing the outfit rather than the humiliation of Pete thinking he can’t take whatever is thrown at him.Spencer’s eyes flick over to Jon, who has an unreadable expression on his face, and the two walk out of the room for a moment, going into the hall. Brendon can hear whispers, Jon’s a little louder than Spencer’s.“—etting out of hand, it’s only his first day!” Jon hisses.Brendon frowns, trying to hear more, but after a minute the two return. Jon looks less than pleased, but Spencer just walks over and eyes Brendon up and down.“Well, if you’re going to do this, whatever your reasons, you’ve got to do it right,” he says. “Turn around.”Brendon flushes and glances at Jon before he twists around and faces the kitchen cabinets. He can feel Spencer behind him, tugging at different parts of the dress and muttering to himself, and after retying Brendon’s apron he spins the other boy back around.“There. That’s better,” he murmurs. “Now, if Pete gives you any shit, you go and find Ryan, alright? Just because you’re doing…” He waves a hand vaguely in Brendon’s direction. “Whatever you’re doing, doesn’t mean that anyone gets to take advantage of you, understand?”Brendon nods quickly.“Good boy.” Spencer smiles, patting his cheek. “Now let Jon make you some breakfast before you go, and remember, if you need us, we’re both in the kitchens. Ask Alan if you can’t find us, okay?”Brendon nods again, smiling in spite of everything. It makes his stomach feel just a little less queasy to think of having people in the main house watching out for him; at least work will be a lot less lonely than it was before.---After breakfast—which consisted of nearly six pancakes, two apples, and a tall glass of juice since Spencer insisted that the only way Brendon was going to get any work done was on a full stomach—Brendon begins making his way to the mansion. He hadn’t seen Ryan at all that morning; apparently the brunet had gone into work early, and despite the fact that Brendon almost-sort-of wishes that he’d gotten to see the older boy before work, it seems like a small gift in reality because at least he didn’t have to face Ryan seeing him dressed like some frat boy’s unoriginal wet dream.As he walks, high heels clutched in one hand since he knows he wouldn’t make it to the main house without breaking one or both ankles on the way if he wore them, Brendon catches sight of the new yardmen working around him. Some are trimming the hedges that surround the entire manor, tall and towering above them making the place seem isolated, almost like they’re trapped in the center of a labyrinth. Others are working on the large topiaries that are scattered across the lawn, giant dragons roaring leaves out into the sky and in the center, a man who looks strangely close to one well-known billionaire riding a tiger. As he nears the front door, Brendon also spots Dallon kneeled in the dirt, tending to a patch of bright pink flowers.Quickly he ducks down, praying that he can sneak past the new gardener and into the mansion without being spotted. He hits his knees and begins crawling quietly down the path, eyes squeezed shut as if by making Dallon unseen, he himself won’t be visible to the new yard worker.“Hey, Brendon, right?”Brendon silently shouts every single swear word he knows and a few he makes up on the spot in his head. Slowly his eyes peek open and he catches sight of Dallon walking over, peering down curiously at him.“What’s, uh, going on?” He asks.Brendon internally curses himself, Pete, Pete’s parents, and the entire rest of the world for good measure as he stands and brushes his skirt off. “Nothing, really, I just dropped my...shoe.” Dallon looks like he doesn’t believe Brendon for a second, but just nods. “That’s a nice—er—outfit.”“It’s my uniform, I work in the main house for Pete,” Brendon says, like cross-dressing for work is an everyday occurrence in the average person’s life.Dallon squints his eyes and gives Brendon a once over before nodding. “Well, that’s...interesting,” he says, tugging a large padded glove off of his hand to run his fingers through his hair. “I’m glad I don’t have a uniform,” he laughs. “Imagine doing yard work in that.”Brendon gives a small grin. Bless Dallon for not making this as disgustingly awkward as it could be.“This thing would be torn apart before lunchtime.”Dallon laughs again, the sound full and happy as he pulls his glove back on. “You’re probably right.” He nods. “Listen, I’ve got to get back to these petunias, but if you catch yourself having some downtime, feel free to come find me.”Brendon blushes only just slightly, and he hopes Dallon will think he’s just getting a little warm. “Yeah, alright. See you around.” He waves, turning to head back for the mansion and praying that Dallon isn’t watching him go because he can just feel that goddamn skirt flouncing around his basically naked ass.Once he reaches the front door, Brendon’s not sure if he should just walk in or not. He can’t imagine Ryan ringing the doorbell every day to be let in, but just waltzing inside like he owns the place seems far too casual. He settles for lightly knocking on the door and waiting again, shifting his weight back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet.The butler, Alan, answers and nods to Brendon, taking a step back to let him in. “Good morning, Mr. Urie.” “Good morning,” Brendon murmurs, carefully stepping inside.“I believe Master Wentz wished for you to begin in the East wing upstairs. He’s informed me that you may have two hours for lunch at noon, and may return to your home to eat if you wish.” The butler seems unsurprised by Brendon’s attire, not even blinking at the almost non-existent skirt or the copious amounts of lace.Brendon nods. “Thank you.”Alan nods and gestures at the staircase, which Brendon quickly rushes for, keeping one hand behind him as he runs up the steps to keep from flashing the elderly man below him.With only a small amount of difficulty, Brendon’s able to locate the supply closet that Pete had showed him yesterday. There really is everything he could imagine needing to clean the upstairs, from toilet brushes to six different kinds of mops to what looks like a very expensive variety of sprays for cleaning counters and tile with. Without much hesitation, Brendon scoops up an armful of supplies and gets to work.---By the time lunch comes around, Brendon is aching in places he didn’t even know existed. It’s been nearly four hours and he’s only just finished half of the East wing, which so far includes but is not limited to 19 bedrooms where he dusts all of the furniture, wipes down the mirrors, straightens up the bedcovers, vacuums, and pulls the curtains open, 27 bathrooms that he has to clean every toilet, bathtub, and shower in, sweep and mop the floors, wipe down counters and sinks, and put fresh towels in, and even 3 different media rooms almost identical to the one he met Pete in yesterday where half-full chip bags and empty soda cans litter the floor, and crumbs are found on every surface. His knees ache and his fingers are so stiff they feel like they’ll never bend again.Once noon hits, Brendon gives a soft sigh of relief and pushes himself up off of bathroom #28 where he’s been scrubbing at the same strange green stain for nearly fifteen minutes. His joints pop and creak, and the thought of walking all the way back home to eat and then come back makes Brendon’s calves scream in protest, so he opts for going to find Spencer and Jon in the kitchens to pathetically beg for food.After searching for what feels like hours, Alan kindly directs him towards the kitchens where Brendon finds his friends in the midst of a heated argument.“Oh, no sir! It is my turn for radio control, you’ve had it all morning!” Jon cries. “I’m sick of your trash noise!”“It’s Britney, bitch!” Spencer shouts, slamming a ladle down into a pot of soup that splashes across the stove.“I don’t care if it’s the fucking queen of England herself, it fucking sucks! And it’s my turn!” Jon yells back.“I will give you control of that radio over my dead body, Jonathan Walker,” Spencer hisses.“That’s fine with me!” Jon scoffs.Brendon takes a step in and clears his throat, carefully pushing the front of his skirt down without thinking and smoothing it.Spencer and Jon both turn at the same time, surprise flashing across their faces.“Brendon! Is everything okay? How is work going, has anyone given you any trouble?” Spencer asks quickly.Brendon shakes his head. “No, no, I’m okay. Tired, and a little sore, but okay. It’s just lunchtime and I didn’t wanna go back home so I was wondering if you had like, stuff I could make a sandwich with or something?”Jon rolls his eyes. “Boy comes into our kitchen and asks for a sandwich.” “A sandwich.” Spencer shakes his head, looking as if Brendon has come in and demanded each of their firstborn.Brendon blushes. “I mean, I can just run back home really quick if it’s too much trouble—”“Shut up, Brendon,” Spencer says, pointing to a stool. “Sit down, I’ll make you lunch. And not a sandwich, fuck. You like fish?” Brendon nods quickly and plops down on the stool, setting his heels down next to his feet before carefully crossing his ankles and spreading the skirt around his knees as best he can. “I like fish.”“Good. A goddamn sandwich; comes into my kitchen and asks for a sandwich.” Spencer shakes his head, going back to the stove.As Spencer begins making lunch, Brendon looks around the kitchen curiously. It’s cluttered with fresh vegetables that are scattered across the counters and different utensils laying around. The stove is a mess of pots and pans that steam and bubble, each sending a different smell into the air, and next to the sink dishes are piled up. Yet, despite the jumble of things found everywhere, the place isn’t really a mess. It’s just well stocked and used; both Jon and Spencer seem to have no trouble finding anything at all.The sound of footsteps echoes on the tile and Brendon turns to see Ryan walking into the room, hair slightly disheveled and cheeks flushed. One of the buttons on his shirt is done up wrong, making his collar crooked.“Pete’s awake,” The older man says, looking over at Jon, who’s busy peeling potatoes.“We’ll have lunch ready in a few minutes,” Spencer says, not even turning to look back as he stirs one pot that’s almost bubbling over.Ryan nods and his eyes flick around the room for a moment before they settle on Brendon, widening in surprise. “What are you doing in here, are you alright? What the hell are you wearing?” His voice comes out a little breathy, and Brendon’s not sure if it’s because he’s surprised or winded.“It’s his uniform,” Jon spits, tossing a bare potato into a bowl.“What? Did Pete put you up to this?” Ryan asks, turning back to Brendon. His cheeks seem a little darker than they were before. “I can go talk to him, he’s such a fucking dick sometimes, you don’t have to do this.”Brendon shakes his head. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”“We already tried talking to him about it,” Spencer explains, leaning down to pull a pan out of the oven, heat quickly enveloping the room. “He says he wants to.”Ryan frowns and arches a brow at Brendon, staring for a long moment with an unreadable expression that makes the younger man squirm slightly in his seat. “Alright,” he says finally. “If you’re sure, but just... don’t do anything you don’t want to do.”Brendon nods, and he can’t help but catch Jon roll his eyes and shake his head as he tosses another potato into the bowl.“Here, Brendon, eat up. You only have a few more minutes,” Spencer says, setting a plate down in front of him. “Tell Pete that we’ll have it out in five,” he adds to Ryan.Ryan nods, going back for the door. “Yeah, I’ll see you guys at home,” he murmurs, hand catching the doorframe as he turns to look back at Brendon, who pauses, fork halfway to his mouth. The two stare at each other for a long while, but eventually Ryan just shakes his head and walks out the door without saying a word. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Brendon grits his teeth and holds his breath as he scrubs viciously at the tile floor of Pete’s bathroom. Whatever the sticky orange substance that he’d found there this morning was, it had left a dark stain the size of a dinner plate behind that refused to go away no matter how ferociously Brendon attacked it. After nearly an hour of trying to remove it this morning, he'd only gotten a painful cramp in his hand for his efforts and had given up, going around the rest of the house to do his duties. Once he’d finished cleaning what he’d been assigned for the day, though, he came right back to this bathroom to get that goddamn orange blotch out. He’s been knelt on the floor for hours now, almost bent in half with his face so close to the once white tile that the smell of cleaning solution makes his head throb. His right shoulder aches from the force he’s using to scrub at the blemish and he’s sure he’ll feel it tomorrow, but it’s been nearly a month since he began working as Pete’s maid and he hasn’t gotten any complaints yet; this infuriating blight on the bathroom floor isn’t going to be the cause of any sudden grievances now.After another thirty minutes, Brendon finally gives in. He’s made some progress; what was once a bright, ugly orange on the stark white tile had now been reduced to a light peach; he’ll just have to come back tomorrow and work on it some more. Pushing himself up and gripping the edge of the tub for support, Brendon stands and winces. Not only does his back feel like it’s been snapped in half, but his feet hurt so bad that he has to check to make sure they aren’t bleeding.Spencer had given him some lessons on walking in high heels, knowing how to do so from having sisters—or so he claimed—and Brendon had toddled along beside him trying to mimic the graceful way the cook strutted across the kitchen floor. Yet, despite taking an entire afternoon one Saturday to try and learn how to at least move in the heels without breaking his ankles, the most Brendon could do was make it across the hallways from bedroom to bedroom as he cleaned. As soon as he could, he’d take off the shoes when he was sure Pete couldn’t see him and only put them back on when there was a chance he might run into the billionaire.Even so, every evening when Brendon was finished with his work and it was time to go home, his entire lower half ached. Walking in heels didn’t only use his feet, it took his entire calf and thigh muscles to get himself from point A to point B in the godforsaken things.Now is no different, and Brendon looks around the bathroom, seriously considering just sleeping in the tub so he doesn’t have to make the walk home. The idea of Pete coming in during the middle of the night to use the toilet makes Brendon actually want to throw up, though, so he just scoops up the stain-remover and his scrubbing brush and ever-so-slowly makes his way towards the supply closet to put everything away. Every step makes him wince and by the time he’s headed down the hall to the stairs, hot tears are making his eyes burn from the pain.“Pete, fuck.” A voice comes from around the corner. “Can’t we at least go to your room?”Brendon freezes and listens carefully; that voice sounds familiar.“Come on, I know you totally have a thing for getting caught,” Pete’s voice whispers, albeit very loudly.“Not by your ancient butler, I don’t.”Brendon’s heart flies into his throat and he feels sick, his stomach churning and threatening to push up the spaghetti Spencer had made him for lunch; that’s Ryan’s voice. He and Pete must be around the corner—doing God knows what. Brendon carefully lifts one throbbing foot to turn around and go the other way when he hears Pete again.“What about getting caught by that little maid I hired?” He hums. “He’s got an ass for days, don’t you think?”Brendon quickly reaches out and clutches at the wall, swallowing hard at the lump in his throat.“What about him?” Ryan’s voice is hard.“Come on, Ryro,” Pete coos. “Don’t act like you don’t stare too; we all do. Kid’s fucking begging for the attention, prancing around in his little skirt and all that. And have you seen his fucking mouth? Don’t even try to tell me you don’t—”“Shut the fuck up,” Ryan snaps, his voice an angry hiss. “I don’t. You shouldn’t either, leave him alone.”“Jealous?” Pete gives a quiet, mocking laugh. “You know you’re the only one for me, Ross, don’t worry.”“I better be,” Ryan mutters. “God knows what kind of diseases you’d pick up.”It’s beyond enough for Brendon to hear. There could be more, but he has no idea because he quickly stumbles down the hallway in the opposite direction of the pair behind him, ignoring the way his feet burn and sting all at once. The stairs were a daunting thought a few minutes ago, but after the conversation he’s overheard Brendon would go down a hill of jagged rocks barefoot just to get out of this house. Tears stream down his cheeks and blur his vision as he sprints out the front door and down the walkway, and before he can register that he should probably slow down before he trips, Brendon’s spilling out across the path with a loud cry. The high heels go flying off of his feet, but he can’t even bring himself to care as he gives a frustrated noise and pushes himself up to inspect the damage.“Brendon? Oh my god, what happened?”Brendon looks up, quickly wiping at his cheeks. Dallon is running towards him, dropping a rake as he kneels down next to Brendon.“I just—I just fell, I was running and then the rocks—and my shoes— “ Brendon cries, breath coming in hysterical little gasps, even as he tries to steady himself and smooth down his skirt. He feels dizzy and sick, and he can’t get Pete’s fucking voice out of his head.“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Dallon soothes quickly. “We’re gonna get you home, alright? Can you walk?” He asks, gently picking up Brendon’s foot in his hands and frowning. “This really doesn't look good.”There’s ragged tears in the stockings all across his feet and legs and Brendon notes that his knee is scraped and bleeding. “It’s okay,” he hiccups, shaking his head and reaching over to pick up the ruffled headband that must have fallen from his hair.Dallon looks up, his eyes meeting Brendon’s and for a moment there’s just deep, dark blue and nothing else. “I really think you should get this checked out. Let me at least walk you home, okay?” Brendon can feel his cheeks heating up and he hopes that Dallon won’t notice the pink tint to his skin in the deep blue of the evening as the Sun sets. “O-okay.” Dallon flashes him a quick smile and nods, pushing up off of the ground and brushing his palms on his pants before offering a hand down to Brendon.Giving a small smile back, Brendon takes the hand and pulls himself up only to have searing pain shoot from his toes up his calves and to the back of his thighs. His knees buckle beneath him before he can even try to straighten up and he’s crashing back down in an instant.“Hey, woah, woah!” Dallon cries, deftly catching Brendon in his arms before he can hit the ground. “I’ve got you.”Brendon blinks in surprise and his arms automatically go to link around Dallon’s neck. He’s cradled flush against the gardener’s chest; one of Dallon’s arms is hooked beneath his still-bleeding knees and the other is behind his back, holding him tight.“Thanks,” Brendon breathes, feeling the blush that had only just disappeared from his cheeks return with a vengeance.A crooked half-smile quirks up one side of Dallon’s face and he nods. “Don’t even worry about it. Let’s get you home, okay?”---“What happened to you!?” Spencer screeches from the front doorway.“I just fell is all,” Brendon mumbles sheepishly, moving to hide his face slightly in Dallon’s chest.“I think he’s okay, nothing seems broken at least,” Dallon tries, shooting Spencer a hopeful smile.“He’s covered in dirt and blood!” Spencer cries, not at all subdued by Dallon’s charm. “Get inside, come on, get in here, get in here—Jon! Jon, get the first aid kit!”Dallon steps carefully over the threshold with Brendon still secured tight in his arms. He follows Spencer, who is muttering to himself things Brendon can’t quite make out, but he catches “motherfucking Pete” and “—boy will be the end of me”.Spencer turns to glance back at Brendon and frowns, shaking his head and continuing with his mutters as they go down the hall and into the kitchen. Dinner was obviously already in the making as a pan is spitting out grease on the stove and a number of chopped vegetables lay on a cutting board.“Just put him on the counter,” Spencer says, pointing to one of the only clear spots available next to the sink.Dallon nods and carefully sets Brendon on the countertop, looking around in slight awe. “So, you’re the cook then?” He asks, pushing his hands into the pockets of his dirty jeans.“One of them,” Spencer mumbles, turning the faucet on and beginning to wash his hands. “Might as well be the only one as useless as—Jon, where is that kit?” He yells, turning his head over his shoulder.“Here, here, I’m coming,” Jon grumbles, walking in. “What, did you slice your finger again? I’ve told you a million times not to go so damn fast, but you—shit! Brendon, are you okay?”Brendon nods quickly. “I’m okay.”“Just some scrapes and a little swelling,” Dallon supplies, looking as if he’s not quite sure what to do with himself now that Brendon has somewhere he can be besides in the worker’s arms.Jon frowns and walks over, setting the first aid kit on the counter next to Brendon and looking him over. “What happened to you?”Brendon bites his lip, cheeks flushing and eyes burning as he remembers Pete and Ryan’s voices. He quickly shakes his head, clutching at the edge of the countertop so hard his knuckles turn white. “I just fell,” he whispers. “It was those fucking shoes.”“I told you to just stop wearing them,” Spencer says flatly as he comes over and begins to rummage through the box of supplies.“I can’t, Pete will get mad,” Brendon mumbles, letting Jon help him get the ruined stockings off.Dallon gives a low whistle and shakes his head. “You really should stop wearing them if that’s what they do to you,” he says, staring down at the mess of swollen and blistered flesh that's supposed to be Brendon’s feet.Spencer looks over and there’s a fire in his eyes that makes Brendon scoot back just a little. “No more heels.”“But—”“Wear tennis shoes to work, stay barefoot inside, if you think Pete’s going to be around you can put them back on. I’m not having you mutilate yourself just for that asshole.” Spencer’s voice leaves no room to argue and Brendon nods reluctantly.“Seriously, Bren, he’s not worth it,” Jon mutters as he grabs a rag and begins gingerly wiping off the blood and dirt on Brendon’s skin. After dabbing at Brendon’s knee with antiseptic that stings and makes Brendon hiss, and then placing bandages over all of the scrapes, Jon stands and pats Brendon’s thigh. “You’re all patched up; I think you’ll survive this one.” He grins. “But I’d probably stay off your feet for the night if I were you.”Just then, the front door swings open and falls shut as Ryan walks in. His hair is sticking up all over the place and his shirt isn’t even buttoned, it’s just hanging open leaving his chest and abdomen bare. There are a few bruises visible on his stomach and around his hips and Brendon has to make himself stay sitting upright so he doesn’t crash down onto the kitchen floor.“Sorry I’m late,” he says, sounding slightly winded. His eyes flick over to Dallon and he frowns just slightly, so subtle that Brendon’s not sure if he’s imagining it or not. “I didn’t know we had guests.”There’s a beat of silence and Brendon sees that Spencer is glaring at Ryan, bright blue eyes cold.“I guess I’ll be going now, then,” Dallon says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Spencer says quickly, expression instantly switching from livid to welcoming as he looks over at Dallon with a wide smile. “Brendon probably couldn’t have gotten home without you, the least we can do to thank you is feed you.”Dallon’s eyes widen just slightly in surprise. “Really? Thank you, I’d love to stay.”“What are we having?” Brendon asks, noting that Ryan is staring at Spencer with his mouth hanging open and eyes so wide they look like they might just fall out of his head.“Salmon with vegetables and roasted potatoes—fuck!” Spencer cries, rushing over to the stove where his pan has begun to spill smoke up into the air.Jon snickers to himself, trying to disguise the noise as a cough, though he winks at Brendon.“I heard that, Jon Walker, if you’re going to be an ass you can finish dinner,” Spencer calls as he switches the pan to a different burner and waves a dish towel at the accumulating smoke.“Ah, not to be an inconvenience,” Dallon says softly, his face slightly pained as he peers over at Spencer. “But I’m a vegetarian.”Spencer nods, not even looking back. He’s too busy scraping burned asparagus out of the pan and angrily tossing it into the trash. “No problem, we have leftover vegetarian lasagna in the fridge.”Dallon nods, looking relieved and grateful all at once and Brendon shoots him a reassuring smile.“I used to be vegetarian too, but my parents refused to buy anything that didn’t use to breathe so I eventually had to give up,” he says with a shrug.Dallon gives a small laugh. “I totally understand. When I was younger I had to save up my own money to get food because my parents thought that being vegetarian was insulting God by not using animals as He’d intended.”Brendon’s eyes grow wide and his chest feels tighter, like his body may explode. “My parents were like that too.” “We all had shitty parents, what’s new?” Ryan mutters, crossing his arms.“Go clean up, you don’t eat unless you’re actually dressed,” Spencer orders, giving Ryan a look that Brendon can’t read, but makes him shudder all the same.“Mormon?” Dallon asks.“I’m sorry?” Brendon turns back, shaking his head a little and looking up at the gardener.“Was your family Mormon?” Dallon clarifies. “Mine was, and the way you talked, yours sounded like they may be too.”“Oh yeah—yeah, mine was, too,” Brendon murmurs, forcing himself to not think about the way his parents had made everything about God and what He wanted, and how if Brendon even thought about stepping out of line he was going straight to Hell.Dallon seems to notice that he crossed some sort of invisible line and doesn’t mention anything else about families. “You want help down?” He asks instead. “I can take you to the table.”“Why can’t he just walk?” Ryan asks, frowning as he looks over at Brendon. “What happened? Why are you all bandaged?”Brendon’s face flushes and he just shakes his head as Dallon pulls him back up into his arms. “I fell,” he mumbles, voice slightly muffled by Dallon’s shoulder.“Fell? You look like you got beat up!” Ryan exclaims.Spencer turns and points down the hall with a wooden spoon. “Go change.” Ryan looks incredulously at his friend first, switching his gaze to Jon and then Brendon before shaking his head and stalking off. Brendon hears him whisper, “What’d I do?”.---Dinner is as good as it always is when Spencer cooks, and Brendon finds that he quite likes having Dallon at the table with them. He and Jon briefly talk about music, and Spencer promises to share recipes with him in exchange for making sure that any of the topiaries based off Pete’s likeness stay far, far away from their house. The only person who seems to have any problem with Dallon is Ryan, who stays silent for most of dinner, only giving short responses when spoken to and eventually just getting up and going to his room. Brendon bites his lip as he watches Ryan go, feeling guilty and wronged all at once, but he’s quickly distracted by Dallon asking about his guitar and forgets about his problems altogether.“Anyone want seconds?” Spencer asks, offering the still-warm pan of brownies up.“If I had any room in my stomach I would,” Dallon laughs, pushing back his chair. “But I really should be getting home; work tomorrow and I’ve got to get up early so I can get fertilizer.”“I can wrap some up to take with you,” Spencer offers.“Spence, he wants to go, let him leave,” Jon teases. “I’m sure someone else will come along to worship your cooking...someday.”Spencer huffs and rolls his eyes, flipping Jon off, but nodding. “Alright, alright. Bren, why don’t you walk him out? Jon, come help with the dishes.”Brendon nods and pushes himself up, waving a hand as Dallon begins to protest. “I can walk you to the front door, I won’t break,” he promises as Jon takes up whining at Spencer about having to always do the dishes.“You can do them yourself if you’re going to be a baby about it,” Spencer threatens, and Jon just sighs, sluggishly dragging himself to the kitchen.“They’re really something else,” Dallon chuckles as he helps Brendon stand, keeping one hand on his arm as they walk to the door.“Yeah, they’re basically married,” Brendon says. “They just don’t know it yet.”“Dinner was really great, thank you for having me,” Dallon smiles. "Tell Spencer thank you too, and tell Jon if he ever wants to ‘jam together’ I’m free on weekends.”Brendon laughs. “I’ll pass along the message.” “See you later then.” Dallon waves, stepping out onto the porch and turning to go.“Bye,” Brendon murmurs, tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth. “Dallon? Uhm, just— well, thank you,” he says, darting forward to press a kiss to Dallon’s cheek before quickly shutting the door and leaning back against it, eyes wide and face the color of the tomatoes Spencer had just been hacking at a few hours ago.“Well, well,” Jon smirks from his place sprawled out on the couch. “Looks like we’ve got a little casanova on our hands.”Brendon squeaks and shakes his head, running off to his room despite the way his feet still ache and burn with each step. He doesn’t even notice Ryan glaring out the window at Dallon’s retreating form. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Warm, radiant Sunlight falling across his face is what wakes Brendon the next morning. As he slowly blinks up at the ceiling, he’s surprised to find that he isn’t dreading the thought of getting out of bed; the usual threats and bribes he tries to persuade himself with each morning don’t even begin to cross his mind. He simply pushes his covers back and sits up, feet hanging off the edge of his full-size mattress as he smiles to himself. He had dreams about tall boys that danced with him and braided flowers in his hair and kissed him so sweet, even now he thinks he can taste honeysuckle on his tongue.It isn’t that he has a crush on Dallon or anything—that’s ridiculous, they’re only friends; he just forgot how nice it is to have someone look at him like he’s an actual person rather than the personification of sin, or just a piece of ass. And it doesn’t hurt that Dallon has a smile that could light up the entirety of New York City and eyes the color of the sky after a storm.Standing and stretching with a small yawn, Brendon notes that his room seems lighter, the colors more vivid—as vivid as brown and beige can get, that is—and he can't help but feel a little lighter too. His feet don't even hurt that bad anymore; he can wiggle his toes with only a tiny ache. As he observes the slow illumination of his room, he hears soft music out in the living room and pulls on some shorts before padding down the hall.“Morning, Ryan.” He smiles, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms as he watches the boy in the middle of the living room stretching and exhaling, eyes closed.Ryan looks up in surprise, almost tipping over and ruining his gate pose. His expression shifts from stunned to annoyed as his chestnut eyes land on Brendon. After a moment, he gives a short nod.“Mind if I join you?” Brendon asks, already walking over and stepping carefully around Ryan as he shifts into a Sun salutation.Since the the morning of Brendon’s first day as Pete’s maid, he’s been waking up early to do yoga with Ryan pretty regularly, if not every morning. He finds that the exercise helps keep the butterflies in his stomach caged before going to work, and the little talks he gets to have with Ryan between sets keeps the butterflies from morphing into angry wasps while he’s at work.“Actually,” Ryan says flatly, “I’m done for today.”Brendon, already bending over to grab a blanket, freezes. He straightens and turns, the deep red fabric limp in his clenched fist.“Oh,” he says, trying not to sound too disappointed. “Well, that’s okay. I should probably be getting ready for work anyways.”Ryan nods, picking his things up and shoving them into the corner. Despite having just finished a long stretch, his muscles look terribly tense to Brendon.“So, um, see you at dinner then?” He tries, tugging his lower lip back and forth between his teeth.Ryan shrugs. “Maybe. Bringing your boyfriend again?”Brendon stills, eyes widening a fraction and his fist tightening, the folds of the blanket making his palm sweaty. “He’s not—” He tries to swallow the rock-like lump forming in his throat. “He’s not my boyfriend.” He looks down at the blanket in his clammy hands, trying to ignore the pounding of blood in his ears.Ryan snorts, shaking his head as he stands again. “Yeah, alright. If you say so.” He rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his slightly sweaty hair as he turns his back on Brendon and heads for his room. “Should probably get tested before you guys do anything!” He calls over his shoulder before slamming his door shut.Brendon flinches at the noise and drops the blanket next to him as hot tears begin to run down his cheeks. It isn’t like he’s not used to the taunts and insults, but he thought he’d gotten away from it all coming here. Despite the constant insistence from his parents that he would burn eternally for being gay, he never did believe God—if He did exist—would damn him just for having a mostly-innocent crush on Freddie Mercury. At twelve years old he couldn’t understand how loving someone could be wrong, but by the time he ran away a few months after coming out, his parents had given him plenty of reasons. Still, even now he refused to be ashamed, even if there was a tiny, nagging doubt in the back of his mind. Ryan could despise him all he wanted, but Brendon wasn’t going to hide just because his roommate was a bigot.Wiping quickly at his cheeks, Brendon kicks the blanket back towards the corner and stalks off to his room to get ready. In the shower, he pretends it’s only the hot water that makes his lashes stick together.---“Brendon! Hey, Brendon, wait up!”Brendon turns, a smile breaking across his face as he sees Dallon running up the path, looking a little comical with his dark hair flopping in the wind and long legs stretching out before him.“Hey, Dallon.” He beams, smoothing down the skirt of his uniform without thinking.“Bren, hey, uh, what’s up?” Dallon asks, falling forward and resting his palms on his thighs as he tries to catch his breath.“Just...going to work.” Brendon gives a small, amused smile. “What about you?”Dallon straightens up, reaching behind his back before procuring a slightly mangled bunch of flowers. “Here,” he breathes, wiping at the light sheen of sweat across his forehead. “They’re daisies, they just bloomed.”Brendon blinks as he stares down at the flowers in Dallon’s fist, reaching out to take them carefully into his hands. “Thank you,” he murmurs, feeling warmth spread across his face.“No problem. Give a few to Jon, would you? He was asking about the sprouts last night.”Brendon nods. “Of course, yeah, I’ll pass them on.”Dallon gives a wide smile and Brendon pictures Times Square during Christmas. “Thanks, you’re the best. See you later,” he says before running off.Brendon watches him go, standing with a dreamy smile across his lips and the daisies pressed up against his face.A scoff sounds behind him.“You gonna just stand there like a lovesick girl or what?”Brendon turns just in time for Ryan to shoulder check him as he passes by and continues up the walk towards the mansion. He stumbles slightly, nearly dropping the flowers in his hands. Suddenly, they look as if they’re wilting.---Once he’s at work, Brendon doesn’t really have the time to dwell on Ryan’s newfound hatred towards him or even how Dallon makes him feel like he’s falling from the sky and walking on air all at once. Pete apparently has become an author overnight because his room is covered in crumpled pieces of paper that Brendon isn’t brave enough to open and look at. There are empty Red Bull cans all across the bed where Brendon notices Pete is actually still asleep on.He’s sprawled out on his stomach with one arm folded beneath his head and the other hanging loosely off the side of the mattress. His sheets are bunched up by his feet and a pen lies on the floor just beneath his twitching fingers beside a discarded hoodie that he was wearing the day before. Brendon notices that he has a few tattoos he's never seen before: one on his bare back right below his neck, and some on his arms. His face is a little funny with his cheek smushed up against his arm and his hair all in his eyes, but he also looks so much younger—and nicer.Brendon gives a tiny smile as he takes a moment to appreciate how beautiful Pete is when he’s not making lewd comments or telling Brendon that he’s ‘really sorry, but something happened in the bathroom and he didn’t mean to, but it’s bad’. Pete gives a soft snort and his leg kicks at his sheets, pushing them to the floor and causing Brendon to take a step back out of the room and gently shut the door. He’s not about to wake a sleeping dragon when he’s got a castle to clean.In one of the guestrooms, there’s a bed that has its covers all mussed and its pillows strewn across the room. Obviously, someone’s slept in it, but Brendon doesn’t know who because he was in here just yesterday and the bed had been perfectly made. Whoever it was had to have slept over last night, but he hadn’t heard anything the day before about any guests, and when he came in today there wasn’t any chatter about someone staying either. He frowns, puzzled, but begins pulling the covers back so he can strip the sheets and change them, picking up the pillows that look almost beaten from the looks of the strange lumps in them, and placing them back on the bed.In the bathroom, the shower is still wet and the mirror has stains from someone not being careful when they spit their toothpaste out. Someone was here not only last night, but this morning too, and recently. Shaking his head, Brendon just wipes down the mirror and makes sure there’s enough toilet paper before grabbing his things and going out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.The sound of heavy, fast footsteps sounds at his back and Brendon turns just in time to catch a flash of tan and white before he’s tackled to the ground, flat on his back.“Hem—Hemingway!” Brendon cries, struggling to catch the breath that has just been knocked out of him. “Get off, bad dog!”The dog only butts his head against Brendon’s cheek and licks at his nose, pushing up under Brendon’s chin and wiggling his bottom in lieu of wagging his non-existent tail.“Aren’t you supposed to be in Pete’s room? I didn’t see you in there, what have you been doing?” Brendon asks with a frown as he manages to sit up, pushing the dog off of his chest.Hemingway has been a nuisance to Brendon since the day they met, when Pete burst through the front door with a wide smile on his face and a very energetic puppy in his arms announcing that the new prince had arrived and everyone better cater to his every whim or else the king would have them executed. Being executed sounded a lot like being fired, so Brendon silently prayed he wouldn’t have to deal with the puppy. Luckily, he only cleaned, so he didn’t have to worry about cooking special dog food, like Spencer, or the dog chewing on grass only to throw it up all over freshly planted flowers, like Dallon. Unluckily, Brendon only cleaned, and Hemingway hadn’t come to the house potty-trained.The dog—not full grown yet, but getting there—looks up at Brendon and jumps up so his paws land on the housekeeper’s shoulders. He whines, and Brendon has come to recognize that noise as one that means if they don’t move soon, there will be a serious mess on the carpet for Brendon to deal with.“Fuck, okay, okay,” Brendon says quickly, shoving the dog off of him and standing, patting his thigh as he goes for the stairs. “Come on, I’ll take you. Fuck, come on, please just make it outside,” he begs, trotting down the hall and nearly jumping down the stairs with Hemingway bounding in front of him.Outside, Hemingway promptly rushes for the bushes and Brendon sighs in relief.“Not the marigolds!” Dallon cries, running over and groaning as Hemingway lifts his legs right over the yellow blooms. “Not again.”“Sorry, that was probably my fault,” Brendon says, giving a sheepish grin. “He was upstairs and Pete is sleeping so I had to take him out before he ruined the carpet.”Dallon turns and gives a pained smile. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you.” Though from his tone, Dallon definitely blames somebody, and Brendon doesn’t think it’s the dog either.“Hey, do you know if someone stayed over here last night?” Brendon asks, whistling to get Hemingway back over by him instead of sniffing in the roses like that might be a good place to dig.“Last night? No, I haven’t heard about any guests.” Dallon shakes his head. “Why?”Brendon shrugs, reaching down to pet the bulldog so he won’t run off again. “One of the rooms was used.”“Weird.” Dallon frowns, pushing his hands into the pockets of his worn and dirty jeans. “I can ask my guys, but I don’t think anyone came in last night.”“Don’t worry about it, Pete may have just gotten bored of his own room and decided to mix it up a little.” Brendon rolls his eyes. He’s found the teenage billionaire asleep in other rooms before, usually with another person—or five.Dallon nods and flashes a smile. “Probably.” He laughs. “Well, I need to go see if those marigolds are salvageable.” He sighs. “I’ll see you later, Bren.”Brendon waves and ignores the way his heart pounds at the way Dallon’s mouth quirks up on one side more than the other when he smiles. He pats his leg again for Hemingway and walks back up the path and into the house.“What am I going to do with you?” He sighs, glancing down at the bulldog. “I can’t clean with you following me around, and the only other place I know of is the kitchens.”Hemingway just yawns and snuffles at his paws.“You know that Spencer will kill me if I take you with me.” Brendon frowns.The dog plops his bottom half down with a soft thump and pants softly.“Don’t you give me that look,” Brendon threatens, wagging a finger down at him. After a moment of silence, Brendon sighs and deflates. “Alright, alright, come on then. Stupid Pete sleeping ‘til fucking three in the afternoon,” he mutters, stomping towards the kitchen and pushing the swinging door open.“Bren, hi hon—Brendon Urie you get that beast out of my kitchen!” Spencer shrieks.“I can’t, he’s following me! Pete’s asleep and he won’t go away,” Brendon whines, pulling a stool out and sitting down.“He’d better not be expecting some gourmet fuckin’ dog food,” Jon growls, looking over his shoulder to glare down at Hemingway. “Cause we’re already busy enough.”Brendon shakes his head. “No, I think he al—”“Spence, we’ve got a problem,” Ryan shoves the door open and steps in, eyes wide.“Oh, so we exist now?” Spencer asks mildly, turning away to break a column of pasta in his hands and set it in a large pot of boiling water.“The hell are you talking about? Of course you ex—I don’t have time for this, listen—”“Because when you left last night to go sleep at Pete’s, and then didn’t come back until early this morning, and then left again just a few minutes later, I kind of assumed you just thought no one was home,” Spencer says lightly, grabbing a very large knife and beginning to skillfully dice some onions.Brendon blinks in surprise and turns to look at Ryan, petting Hemingway absently when the dog jumps up into his lap. Ryan was the one in the guest room? Was he so disgusted over Brendon that he couldn’t even stand to be in the same house?Ryan frowns, brows knitting together. “That isn’t fair. I left because—”“Because you’re emotionally stunted and lash out when things don’t go your way. I know exactly why you left, Ryan, don’t try to bullshit me,” Spencer snaps, tossing a handful of the chopped onions into the pot and grabbing a tomato.There’s a lot of loud talking outside and Brendon turns his head towards the door curiously, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach when he thinks about Ryan sleeping here. It sounds like people are shouting and running around.“What’s going on?” He asks, twisting around to look at Jon.“That’s what I was trying to tell you!” Ryan cries, exasperated. “Pete’s parents are coming.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Spencer freezes and Jon actually drops the knife he was holding, the utensil falling to the ground and clattering loudly against the tile. No one seems to notice except for Brendon.“When?” Spencer asks, as if he’s trying to gauge how long they have before the mansion is laid siege.“Tomorrow,” Ryan says flatly, sounding like they have absolutely no hope.“Fuck,” Jon swears, smacking his hands down onto the counter. “How did you find out?”“No one was supposed to know—Pete still doesn’t even know; they just told Alan and one of the yard guys found the letter under a bush.” Ryan bites his lip, and Brendon has never seen the normally stoic boy look so nervous.“Probably left it there on purpose,” Spencer sighs. “Alan isn’t one to leave us to fend for ourselves. Fuck, tomorrow?”Ryan nods.“Make some coffee, Jon, we’re staying the night.” Spencer shakes his head and pushes a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends with a distressed noise. It might be funny how it sticks up all over the place once Spencer lets go if he didn’t look so anxious.Jon just swears again, but he leans down to pick up the fallen knife and goes to the pantry.“What’s so bad about Pete’s parents?” Brendon finally asks, gently rubbing one of Hemingway’s ears as the dog struggles to climb up into his lap. The stool he’s on is too high, and the bulldog’s legs are far too short.Ryan blinks and looks over at Brendon, as if just noticing him, and frowns. “Well, besides the fact that they’re in charge of all of our paychecks, they’re the most difficult people to please that I’ve ever met, and that’s including Pete.”“And if they’re unhappy, we’re unhappy,” Spencer mutters, twisting the dial on the stove to reduce the flickering blue flame down to a low glow beneath the pot.“Last time they were here they told me my hair was too long and my face was girlish,” Ryan huffs, crossing his arms.“Your face is girlish, hush. At least Pete protects you; they tried to say I didn’t need Jon in the kitchens and should be doing everything on my own.” Spencer frowns.“Actually, they said, and I quote, ‘That cook doesn’t need the grubby little hippy boy to help him, he’s just trying to be lazy and his helper makes a mess. You should let him go.’” Jon says, walking back out with a large bag of coffee grounds in his arms. “‘Helper’, they called me!”“It’s bad news that they’re coming at all, but it’s worse news that we only have a day’s notice,” Ryan says firmly, looking back at Brendon. “You’d better make this place look spotless or they’ll be on you like rabid dogs.”Brendon feels the blood drain from his face and he nods, trying to ignore the way his stomach begins to churn.“Don’t you scare him, Ryan. Nobody’s been fired yet; every time they try to tell Pete he needs to change something, he throws a tantrum until they leave.” Spencer waves a wooden spoon in their direction. “But you do need to make sure you’re on top of everything, Brendon. He’s right, they’ll do everything they can to make anyone here break.”“Your job isn’t in danger, but your sanity is,” Jon mutters.“I—I’m gonna just go then,” Brendon whispers, pushing off of the stool and carefully moving Hemingway’s paws off of him so they don’t tear his new stockings.“Don’t work yourself up,” Spencer says firmly. “If you freak out, you’ll just be worse off in the long run. You’ve got to keep it together, at least until they leave.”Brendon nods.“And if you need anything, we’re here,” Jon adds.“Ryan too.” Spencer gives a long, hard look at Ryan, who finally nods, ducking his head.“Yeah, yeah. I’m here too,” he mutters. “But you’ll probably just run off to yo—”“Go on then, out!” Spencer waves his spoon again, and Brendon doesn’t wait around to see just what he plans to do with it.---By the time Brendon’s shift is technically over, he’s scrubbed every bathroom down twice and washed all the bedrooms’ sheets and some extras, just in case anyone needs spares. He vacuumed the carpets in each room and the hallways, checked the media rooms to make sure Pete didn’t leave any more soda cans or Dorito crumbs around, and he even dusted every piece of furniture he could, despite feeling like he was in a bad porno with the small skirt and feather duster in his hand. He brushed down the curtains and opened all the windows so none of the rooms would be musty, wiped down the banisters and swept the stairs, and polished the bronze tiger statues by the front door until his elbow ached, but at least he could see his reflection in the shining metal. He’s not entirely sure what else he should do. He’s always done the best he could, but everyone’s made it seem like his best won’t be good enough now. Pete’s parents sound like giant monsters coming to eat him up if they don’t like the way he mopped the floors.“Brendon!”Brendon whips around, hand flying to his chest as his heart nearly bursts out of his ribs, pounding painfully.Pete grins his too-wide grin as he walks forward, still in the jeans he slept in and no shirt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I guess you heard my parents are coming?”Brendon nods, trying not to look too terrified.“Great, then you know everything has to be perfect when they get here. I swear, they think I’m running this place into the ground with all the fuckin’ bitching they do when they come.” Pete rolls his eyes, looking vaguely annoyed, but there's something familiar in the way his gaze drops to the ground, almost like he wishes his parents did approve; Brendon forces himself not to think of other people who wished they had their parents approval. “Anyways, I know you’ll have the place sparkling or whatever, but I was thinking, like, I know you love your little outfit and stuff—believe me, we all do—but maybe you could like, wear something else? Just while they’re here?”Brendon blinks and it doesn’t even occur to him to be angry that Pete’s insinuating that the humiliating outfit was his idea, or to protest that he’d rather wear something else every single day. He just stares, because the billionaire is looking at him like he thinks Brendon will say no, like he’s actually afraid that Brendon is going to try and fuck him over.“Of—of course, yeah, no, of course,” Brendon nods. “Whatever you need.”Pete sighs in relief and Brendon can see him physically deflate. “Thank you,” he breathes. “I’m not trying to be an asshole, they’ll just be totally weird about it and it’s not like they don’t have enough to criticize about me.”Brendon nods again, vaguely wondering if Pete thinks that him wearing the costume is something to not be weird about. “No problem.” Pete grins again and takes a step forward to hug Brendon, tight and genuine. “You’re the best.”Brendon is so surprised he can’t even speak, let alone hug back or push Pete away or scream.“Hey, there you are,” Pete looks down, pulling back from the hug and kneeling in front of Hemingway. “You weren’t in bed when I woke up, where have you been?” He asks as the dog jumps up into his arms.“Oh, he’s been with me,” Brendon says once he has the ability to speak again. He’s still stunned, and he’s not sure he won’t just up and pass out once Pete is gone.“You took care of him?” Pete asks, looking up. “I knew there was something about you that I liked when I hired you. You’re too good for me,” Pete hums, standing and shifting Hemingway in his arms.Brendon is grateful for the dog that’s pushing his face against Pete, because if he’s there, then Pete can’t hug him again.“No problem,” Brendon repeats. “I really should—go, then,” he says, taking a step back. “I’ll, um, see you tomorrow.”Pete nods, obviously not listening anymore as he scratches Hemingway’s ears and coos to him.Brendon turns, shaking his head. Maybe Pete’s parents are some sort of otherworldly monsters, and they have weird powers that make everyone act strangely. It must be the only explanation, because never in a million years would Brendon ever think that Pete may actually be kind beneath his endless layers of arrogance.---It turns out that the entire staff comes together like the only remaining survivors of the apocalypse whenever Pete’s parents are coming. There are yard workers helping wash cars and waitstaff doing laundry and even Alan is polishing silver at the dining room table. It’s like no one has a specific job anymore, if there’s a task to be done, whoever can, does. Once Brendon is done cleaning the house (meaning once Dallon insists that it’s as clean as it could possibly get) he helps Jon and Spencer in the kitchens for a while. Apparently, Mr. and Mrs. Wentz expect at least a three-course set up for every single meal. Brendon’s not really sure if three-course breakfasts even exist, but he doesn’t question it. He just chops up slices of ham like Jon showed him how for omelets and mashes orange halves down onto a strange split up spear that’s for making juice, according to Spencer.After Spencer finally decides that they’ve prepared as much as they possibly can, Brendon goes out to see if Dallon needs any help in the yard. It’s still dark out, and he’s forced himself out of bed before the Sun’s risen plenty of times, just to be ahead, to know just how difficult it can be to not trip over roots or fall into rose bushes full of thorns.After he’s changed into a dirty pair of jeans and a t-shirt, he makes his way out the door and into the front yard where a handful of men are scattered across the grass, bent down trimming bushes or pulling weeds.“Brendon!” Dallon calls, standing and waving. There’s a flashlight in one of his hands and a small pair of clippers in the other. Even in the dark, Brendon can see how wide and bright his smile is.“Hey, Dal,” Brendon hums, jogging towards him. “Need a hand?”Dallon gives a tired laugh, lifting one arm to wipe at his forehead. A small smudge of dirt is left behind. “I could use ten hands.”“Well, I’ve only got two for now, but they’re all yours,” Brendon grins.“I’ll take anything I can get; we’re getting close to being done, but a few of my guys are out sick and no one else knows how to prune the flowers without overdoing it.” Dallon grimaces. “So I’m stuck having to do it all myself.”“Do you have a spare pair of shears?” Brendon asks.“As a matter of fact,” Dallon reaches down into the makeshift apron/tool belt around his waist, pulling out another identical pair of clippers and offering them to Brendon.“Why am I not surprised?” Brendon shakes his head, but there’s an affectionate smile making his lips twist as he takes the shears.Dallon shrugs. “A good gardener is always prepared, I’d think you knew that, Urie.”Brendon laughs. “Oh, I didn’t know we were pretending you were a good gardener, ‘Weekes’,” Dallon scowls. “Oh, go on then, get out of here,” he huffs, waving a hand.Brendon laughs again, turning and giving a wave before he gets to work. He’d forgotten not only how much work went into maintaining the yard, but also how quickly it could get tiring. Thinking back, he isn’t sure at all how he did everything by himself.Apparently, he’d also forgotten how easy it was to lose himself in his thoughts when he was working the yard, because he doesn’t even notice how the sky begins to lighten to a purplish-grey as the Sun starts to rise. He doesn’t hear the footsteps running towards him either, and therefore is terribly surprised and gives a loud shout when Ryan yanks him up by his arm.“What the fuck are you doing?” Ryan cries.“Wh—what are you talking about?” Brendon asks, trying to pull away and dropping his shears.“It’s six-thirty, they’re going to be here in an hour and a half and you’re covered in fucking dirt and smell like week-old garbage!” Ryan shouts, tightening his grip on Brendon’s arm and pulling him towards the house. “They can’t see you like that or you’re definitely going to lose your job, no matter how many tantrums Pete throws.”Brendon blinks and looks down at himself. He does have soil all over his jeans, especially on the worn knees, and grass stains too. He pushes a hand through his hair only to realize it’s been plastered against his forehead with sweat; he probably doesn’t smell so great.“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I just got distracted, I was trying to help Da—with the yard work.”“I know what you were doing,” Ryan mutters, pushing the front door open and dragging Brendon inside. “It doesn’t matter, we need to get you clean and presentable.”Brendon doesn’t say anything, just stumbles after Ryan trying to keep up. There’s no use in arguing, especially since Ryan’s already made it very clear what his feelings are.He isn’t surprised when Ryan tugs him up the stairs and down the hall, presumably towards a bathroom, but he is surprised when Ryan drags him into Pete’s room and into his bathroom.“Here?” Brendon frowns, looking around at the freshly-cleaned surfaces. Just a few hours ago he’d picked Pete’s dirty laundry up off of the floor and wiped the mirrors down.“Better to dirty this one up than any of the others; they’ll expect it from him,” Ryan explains, pushing past Brendon to lean down and turn the water on.Brendon nods, biting his lip and twisting the hem of his dirty once-white t-shirt in his hands.“You gonna take that off or do I have to strip you down too?” Ryan turns back, one hand under the faucet to test its temperature.Brendon blinks and blushes brightly, his face feeling far too warm. “Oh—oh. Right, yeah, sorry,” he mumbles, feeling even more self-conscious than he usually does around Ryan as he pulls his shirt up over his head and hesitantly reaches for the button on his jeans.“Look, I’m not gonna try and cop a feel,” Ryan spits, looking at least offended, if not even a little hurt. “Here, you take a shower and I’ll go find you some clothes. You do know how to shower?”Brendon swallows and nods, biting back a retort about how he could have showered back at their place on his own and didn’t need any of Ryan’s help, thank you very much. Instead, he pushes his jeans down and kicks his shoes off, hopping on one foot for a minute to pull his sock off. He waits until Ryan pushes past him and goes out the door, shutting it firmly before he tugs his boxers off and steps into the running shower.It’s warm and soothes the tired ache in his muscles, but it also makes his eyes heavy and his jaw crack from the strength of a colossal yawn. The steam swirling around him could be a soft blanket, and maybe if he just leaned against the wall for a minute, only closed his eyes for a few seconds…“Don’t you take your time in there!” Ryan calls, smacking his hand against the door. “Hurry up so we can get you dressed!”Brendon blinks and frowns, rubbing his eyes with his fists and sighing.“There ain’t no rest for the wicked...” he hums softly to himself, grabbing the bottle of shampoo on Pete’s shelf. As he pours some into his hand, he’s surprised to find it smells like strawberries. As he scrubs it into his hair, the scent just gets stronger and he hopes that no one will notice he and Pete both smell like they fell into a vat of jam; that could only raise all sorts of troublesome questions.After he scours his skin clean with incredibly foamy body wash that also smells like strawberries—he wonders if Pete bought a set at some kind of rich peoples’ Bath and Body Works—and rinses his hair out, Brendon turns the water off and steps out of the shower before grabbing one of the fluffy white towels (which by the way, he had just washed) and drying himself off, wrapping the towel around his waist before slowly stepping out into Pete’s room. He shivers, goosebumps rising on his skin as he walks out of the warm bathroom and into the cold air of the bedroom.“Ryan?” He calls after a moment, not entirely sure if he wants an answer back or not.“Fucking finally,” Ryan appears in the doorway, cheeks flushed. “Hurry up, I put clothes on the bed for you. They’re gonna be here in five minutes!”“You said we had an hour and a half!” Brendon protests.“I thought we did!” Ryan cries, running in and snatching the towel from Brendon’s waist before throwing a pair of black slacks at him and a white dress shirt. “Here, fuck, put these on. There're shoes by the door, fuck, hurry up!”Brendon nods, not even caring that he’s ass-naked now. He rushes for the clothes and scrambles to pull on the pants, nearly falling flat on his face. He also doesn’t protest when Ryan tugs the dress shirt over his arms and pulls his hands through the sleeves, quickly buttoning it as Brendon zips his pants and yanks on socks and shoes.“Come on!” Ryan cries, grabbing Brendon’s hand and sprinting down the hallway.Downstairs, everyone is standing in a small group in front of the front door. They aren’t necessarily in rows, but there’s a definite purpose to where each person is standing, and as Ryan slides in next to Spencer, Brendon skids to a stop beside him.“Stand up straight,” Ryan mutters out of the corner of his mouth. “And don’t forget to call them madam and sir.”“Madam?” Brendon whispers.“Madam,” Ryan says firmly. “Don’t speak unless spoken to, bow before you leave their presence.”Brendon nods. He can feel a small bead of sweat drip down his back and he clenches his fists in hopes to curb the shaking of his hands.“Anything else?” Brendon squeaks.“Yeah,” Ryan murmurs. “Don’t fuck up.”Brendon opens his mouth to argue the helpfulness of that statement, but the doorbell sounds, chimes echoing through the hall; the noise reminds Brendon of a church bell, eerily giving out a single death toll. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Taking a deliberate step forward, Alan lightly claps his hands and two boys dressed in black slacks and white shirts similar to Brendon’s go to each door before pulling them open almost ceremoniously.Just barely audible, Alan sighs before taking a deep breath. “Announcing Master and Madame Wentz.”His voice echoes loudly throughout the room for a few moments before a man and a woman Brendon can only assume are Pete’s parents step inside. Mrs. Wentz has her hand daintily laid atop her husband’s arm, and as they walk in she glances around, nose wrinkling in blatant disgust. Immediately, Brendon is reminded of his mother down to the way Mrs. Wentz has her hair tied up in a painfully tight bun with not a single strand out of place; he forces down the sick feeling quelling in his stomach. Mr. Wentz, on the other hand, displays no emotion at all besides perhaps complete and utter boredom. “Mom, dad!” Pete steps forward with open arms and a wide smile; Brendon finds himself reminded of a nature documentary he watched where the narrator explained how primates bare their teeth as a sign of submission or fear. “Peter,” Mr. Wentz says, voice dull and monotone as he seems to take no notice of Pete's attempt at a hug. Pete hesitates for a moment, but wraps both of his parents in an embrace, holding them tight before pulling away and offering another wide smile. “How was your trip? Have you heard from Hillary lately? I’ve missed you.”“Peter, this place looks simply ghastly,” Mrs. Wentz admonishes, ignoring Pete’s questions. She frowns up at her son as her gaze darts around the room.There's a pause and Brendon notices the muscle in Pete’s jaw twitch and tighten. “A matter of opinion,” he finally grits out. “Are you hungry? Spencer and Jon made dinner; let’s eat and I’ll have someone take your things upstairs.”“So you’ve kept the scrubby hippy then?” Mrs. Wentz’s tone is light, but out of the corner of his eye Brendon can see Spencer grip Jon’s bicep as if to comfort him, or maybe restrain him.Pete shrugs. “I think he’s more than worth—”“Peter, he probably throws his paycheck away on drugs,” Pete’s mother whispers loudly, eyes flicking towards Jon and then back at her son. “Something awful, like marijuana.”Brendon holds back a snicker. If Mrs. Wentz is this horrified at the idea of Jon buying weed, she would probably have a heart attack if she found out the array of things Pete takes at least every other weekend at parties.Pete just shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you want to say hello to the rest of the staff before we eat?” His voice is strained, though his mother looks equally harried.All the same, she nods and tugs Pete’s father towards the group of people around Brendon. Mr. Wentz’s expression is flat and dull, as if he’s far too used to the arguments between his son and wife and got beyond tired of them years ago.Brendon watches as Pete’s parents go down each line, finding something to criticize about every person they stand in front of; he thinks Jon may actually lunge when Mr. and Mrs. Wentz glance over him and don’t do anything but sniff disdainfully and move on. By the time all of the staff before him have been dismissed to correct whatever mistake that had been decided they made, Brendon is shaking and doesn’t even notice that he’s gripping Ryan’s hand hard enough to snap his bones. However, once Pete’s parents are in front of them, Ryan’s hand disappears and suddenly Brendon feels as if he’s floating alone in deep space.“You’re new,” Mr. Wentz notes flatly, lip curling.Brendon blinks and nods quickly. His mouth feels like an endless desert, dry and hot, and his tongue is heavy and thick in his mouth.“What’s your name?” Pete’s father asks, though he doesn’t sound like he especially cares.“Bren—Brendon.”“Brendon? Brendon what?” Mrs. Wentz arches a brow.For a moment, Brendon is back at home with his mother furiously confronting him about rumors of him kissing Carson Nguyen; she too had the look that no matter what answer he gave, it would be the wrong one. The sound of Mr. Wentz clearing his throat yanks him back to the present, though, and he blinks quickly.“I’m—I’m sorry?”“Not very bright, is he, Peter?” Mrs. Wentz has pity and maybe something like concern written across her features, and Brendon might even believe she cared if he hadn’t just watched her make a girl cry over the way her hair was styled.Pete looks uncomfortable, brow furrowed and teeth tugging nervously at his bottom lip. He makes a non-committal noise and shrugs. “Look, here’s Ryan!” he says instead, plastering a strained smile across his face.“Mr. Ross.” Mr. Wentz gives a short nod, one Brendon might even call respectful if he didn’t know better.“Master Wentz.” Ryan gives a curt nod back.“Oh, Ryan, you’re keeping Peter out of trouble, aren’t you?” Mrs. Wentz cries suddenly, turning and taking Ryan’s hands in her own lace glove covered ones.“As always,” Ryan says simply, bringing her hand up to brush lightly with his lips.Brendon can only stare, dumbfounded. If they thought he was stupid before, one look at his face now would whisk away any doubts they may have held. Who the fuck is this guy, all suave and charming as he lets Mrs. Wentz take his arm before leading her down the hall? Certainly not Ryan, who only moments ago was berating Brendon for not buttoning his shirt correctly.“You get used to it.”Brendon twists around to find Spencer and Jon behind him, each looking equally grim, though Jon perhaps a bit homicidal as well.“Used to what?” Brendon asks, glancing back to see Ryan laughing with Mr. Wentz as they disappear around the corner. Only moments ago he’d have bet his entire paycheck that Mr. Wentz didn’t even know how to smile, let alone laugh.Jon snorts. “Pete’s parents and their bullshit.”Brendon bites his lip, tugging at it. “Why do they like Ryan so much?”“They think he’s some saint who keeps Pete out of trouble.” Spencer rolls his eyes. “Good God, if only they knew.”Brendon nods, sighing softly. He made himself look like an absolute fool in front of the people he needed to impress the most. What if they fire him anyways, whether Pete tries to save his ass or not? Not that Brendon's convinced he would, if it came down to it.“Hey, don’t worry about them,” Jon says, reaching forward to clasp his hand on Brendon’s shoulder. “They’re mean to everyone, you didn’t do anything wrong. And they weren’t singling you out, even if it felt that way, I promise.”Spencer nods. “If anyone gets singled out, it’s scrubby hippy boy over here.”Jon glares. "Maybe I will quit and you'll have to run the whole kitchen by yourself. You think anyone else would put up with your bossy bullshit? Newsflash: they wouldn't.""If you left maybe I'd actually get something done every once in a while instead of having to argue with you over the fucking radio." Spencer grins."Oh, go fuck yourself. Don’t you have someone else to annoy?” Jon asks, flipping Spencer off.“No, but I do have to dessert to start prepping for, and so do you unless you want to lose that paycheck you throw away on your precious dope, so let’s get a move on before Master and Madame Asshat find a reason to make our lives more miserable than they already do,” Spencer says firmly.Jon huffs, but doesn’t argue. “Whatever,” he mumbles before turning to Brendon. “Don’t let them get you down, alright? It’ll only be for a few days and then everything will go back to normal.”“Only a few days,” Brendon echoes softly, nodding.“We’ll see you at home, Bren, try and stay out of trouble.” Spencer grins, winking before he grabs Jon by the wrist and tugs him towards the kitchens.“Only a few days.” Brendon nods again, firmer. “How bad can it be?”---The answer turns out to be very, very bad. Jon can protest all day long that Brendon isn’t being singled out, but the worst thing that’s happened to him has been Mrs. Wentz implying that his mother was a drug addict who prostituted herself out for money and that’s why Jon has no motivation. Bad, yes, but nothing compared to what Brendon’s been going through the past two days even if Spencer keeps (firmly) insisting it’s not a contest.Ever since their arrival, the Wentzes seem to have made it their goal to break Brendon in every sense of the word. Instead of asking any of the numerous servants who have been spending their time anxiously standing by waiting for a command, they have Brendon do any and all tasks they can think of, all in addition to the ones he has to carry out for the job he’s actually getting paid for. Within the past two days Mrs. Wentz has had him leave his house at midnight to bring her a snack in bed all the way back at the mansion— from the kitchens to her room at the top floor, nonetheless—go fetch clean towels even though Brendon tried explaining he had just washed the ones she was shoving in his arms, drive her into town to shop for an entire afternoon only to purchase absolutely nothing and then drive her home, and iron a pile of clothes that she ended up tossing onto the floor anyways after deciding on something hanging in the closet, just to name a few things. Mr. Wentz isn’t as bad, but he’s always looking at Brendon like he’s a bug the billionaire would love nothing more than to smush beneath his shoe.Between ordering him around and complaining about what a terrible worker he is, Pete’s parents’ favorite activity seems to be criticizing anything and everything about him no matter who’s around to hear. Yesterday they were sitting by the pool while Pete and Ryan were swimming (because God forbid Ryan do his job rather than laze around with the Wentzes, cuddling up to their prickly asses like some lapdog) and when Brendon brought them drinks, Mrs. Wentz asked if he went to church. When he replied that no, he didn’t anymore, she nodded thoughtfully and said, “I didn’t think so. God certainly wouldn’t want your kind in His house.” before taking her drink from Brendon and waving him away.Brendon had made absolutely sure that he was out of calling distance before he let the hot tears burning at his eyes run down his cheeks.Today’s a new day, though, and even as he trudges towards the dining room to bring Mrs. Wentz a glass of sparkling room temperature water (because the first glass he brought was obviously a few degrees too cold and would give her a headache, what was he trying to do, make her ill?) he tells himself at least he isn’t being made to wear that god awful maid costume. He can’t say he misses the blisters on his feet he’d find at the end of the day after spending hours upon hours walking around in those high heels, so that's at least one thing to be grateful for, if perhaps the only thing.As he steps into the room, he takes a deep breath and plasters a polite smile across his face. “Your sparkling water, madame,” he says softly, offering Mrs. Wentz the crystal glass.Mrs. Wentz glances over and takes the glass in her hand, sipping at it. “I suppose it’ll do.”Brendon grits his teeth but keeps his cordial expression in place and nods.“Thank you, Brendon,” Pete says, offering a more than apologetic smile.“You’re welcome,” Brendon murmurs, pretending he doesn’t see Mrs. Wentz roll her eyes as he turns to leave.“Peter, did you hear about the Stumphs?” She asks.Pete sighs, loud and exaggerated. Brendon can just see him resting his cheek against his fist, obviously uninterested. “No, what about them?”Mrs. Wentz sniffs. “Their son, Patrick, you remember him? You used to play together when you were younger, he was the little strawberry-blonde boy.”“I remember, mother,” Pete says, and Brendon pictures him rolling his eyes.“Yes, well, their son, Patrick, he’s…” Mrs. Wentz takes a shaky breath and Brendon turns without thinking. She looks almost in pain. “Homosexual.”It’s the last thing Brendon thought she was going to say; from her tone, he was expecting perhaps ‘been diagnosed with a terminal illness’ or ‘was in a terrible car accident’.Pete blinks, arching a brow. “So?”“So? So, Peter, what if you were too? You spent enough time with them at their Summer home when you were younger, and obviously it must have been how they raised him.” Mrs. Wentz looks almost tearful.“Oh must it have been?” Pete snorts.Mrs. Wentz rolls her eyes now, and Brendon can suddenly see exactly where Pete got his impudence from. “How else would he have gotten it, Peter? Being born with it?”“Don’t tell me you’ve been listening to those bleeding-heart liberals, son,” Mr. Wentz takes a bite of his steak and then sips at a half-full glass of wine. “They just want to take our money and give it to those lazy ne'er-do-wells.”Pete sighs, shaking his head and runs a hand through his hair. “You two are aware it’s the twenty-first century? We should be well past this.”Mrs. Wentz frowns, and then to his surprise, turns to Brendon. “You don’t think those...people should be allowed to marry like my son, do you?” The way she says 'people' makes Brendon think she doesn't believe that's what they are at all. He blinks, eyes growing so wide he’s almost afraid they’re going to fall out of his head. “I…”“See, Peter? Even your worthless little servant boy disagrees with you. He knows they’re all going to burn too.” Mrs. Wentz turns back to her son, looking self-satisfied.Pete snorts. “You didn’t even give him a chance to answer, mother. Brendon isn’t exactly one to judge people for their preferences, trust me.”Mrs. Wentz blinks, lips twisting down into a frown. “And just what is that supposed to mean? He isn’t one of them?” Now her gaze whips back around to Brendon. “You aren’t one of them?”Brendon can feel his heart pounding in his chest, threatening to burst forth and explode right there in front of Ryan and Pete and his parents and anyone else who may happen to walk by. He’s sixteen again, shoving a book about Michelangelo filled with nude men in it under his bed as soon as he hears his mother walking up the stairs.“Answer me,” Mrs. Wentz says firmly, and now he's eighteen, his mother thrusting a picture of him sprawled out in Anthony Vecci’s lap, drunk and kissing his cheek, demanding just what this is.His hands are shaking and he can feel cold sweat making his shirt damp. Still, no words come.“And what if he is? What if I am, mother?” Pete asks.Mrs. Wentz whirls around, eyes wide with horror and Brendon takes the opportunity to rush out the door now that no one is watching him. As he sprints down the hall towards the bathroom to throw up, he hears Pete’s mother gasp “That’s a disgusting joke, Peter, don’t you say things like that!”As he runs, he doesn't even think to ask himself if he'll ever get to stop. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It’s to Brendon’s absolute astonishment that Pete’s parents leave the next morning. He’s woken up by Spencer shaking him none-too-gently and crying “Come on, come on, we’ve only got thirty minutes!” though when he asks “Till what?” he doesn’t receive any answer. His head hurts and his nose is stuffed up from spending most of the night crying to himself in the dark of his room, curled up on his side and trying to ignore the thought of just how many times he’s done this before, and how he had come here for the sole purpose of never having to do it again.Rubbing at still-swollen eyes, he pushes up and makes his way to the kitchen only to find utter chaos where Jon frying eggs should be. There are dress shirts being flung about and a blur of color passes him by that vaguely resembles Spencer with no pants on. It takes a few minutes, and a mug of coffee cupped carefully in his palms, but finally, Brendon comes to his senses enough to deduce that Pete’s parents are departing and apparently that requires the same pomp and ceremony as their arrival. The thought of having to face Mr. Wentz with his coldly calculating gaze or Mrs. Wentz with her sharp eyes and sharper tongue makes Brendon want to crawl right back into bed and never leave again, but he knows that his job most likely depends on his attendance, and a small part of him whispers that not showing up would be letting them win.It’s for those reasons that he makes himself let Spencer dress him, though he can’t bring himself to admit the real reason his eyes are red-rimmed and his cheeks too pale when Spencer asks if he’s feeling alright as he does up the buttons of Brendon’s shirt. He’s sure Spencer doesn’t believe him when he mumbles out an excuse of not sleeping well, but the other boy doesn’t push for anymore and Brendon is immeasurably grateful.“This shouldn’t take as long as before,” Jon says as they briskly walk up the way to Pete’s mansion. “They tend to leave a lot faster than they come, though who wouldn’t?”Spencer snorts and holds the door open for Brendon and Jon before carefully shutting it behind himself as they step into the hall. “You’d think they would expect it by now, it isn’t like every visit isn’t exactly the same; why come at all?”Jon shrugs, and Brendon follows after him to where the rest of the staff is once again lined up in strict rows facing the two colossal front doors.“See you on the other side,” Spencer whispers, catching Brendon’s hand in his own and squeezing it before trotting off to join Jon at their spots.Brendon’s about to make his way over to the place he was standing before when he hears what sounds like a shout of his name.“Brendon? Brendon!”He turns around, eyes widening as he sees Pete half-running towards him in the same stiff white shirt and black slacks he’d donned for his parents' arrival; the exact same, in fact, from the purplish wine stain that’s still a splotch on his collar.“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Pete asks, finally coming to a stop in front of Brendon and giving a short gasp for breath.“S-sure, is everything alright?” Brendon asks, half-wondering if he should go get Pete some water or something.Pete nods and waves a hand before frowning and shaking his head. “No, not really. But that’s what I need to talk to you about, come on.”Biting his lip and tugging it between his teeth a little too hard, Brendon follows after Pete once the billionaire has managed to stand upright again and start walking down the hall.“Am...am I in trouble?” Brendon asks, internally cursing the way his voice sounds so small.Pete blinks and twists around to glance back over his shoulder at Brendon, surprise making his eyes widen. “Trouble? What would you be in trouble for? No, no, just come on.”Brendon nods, unsure, but keeps walking until Pete grabs the cuff of his sleeve and tugs him down an adjacent hallway where his parents are standing, looking far more than uncomfortable.Immediately his muscles tense and Brendon ignores the shrieking scream of run! that’s echoing in his mind.“Brendon, I want to start by saying that I’m sorry,” Pete says, taking a step back and clasping his hands behind his back.Brendon’s gaze flicks from his boss to each of his parents. He’s vaguely reminded of some horror movie he watched when he was younger where the killer lures his victim to his house to murder him and apologizes before doing so, looking truly sorrowful the entire time; he had sounded quite a bit like Pete does now.“Sor-sorry for what?” Brendon asks, fighting the urge to take a step back.Pete bites his lip, gazing at his shoes for a moment before looking back up at Brendon with an almost determined expression. “Sorry for not defending you. The way you were treated the past few days was...really fucked up. I should have said something, and I didn’t, so I’m sorry.”Brendon blinks, eyes widening and darting from Pete’s seemingly genuine, apologetic expression to his parents, who look as if they’ve each swallowed entire lemons.“Um, no. No, it’s okay, Pete, really. Thank you for saying that, though,” Brendon murmurs.Pete shakes his head. “No, it’s not okay. I was being...I was a coward, and you’re my employee, and I care about you, and I should have spoken up for you. But that’s beside the point right now. I believe my parents have something they would like to say as well.”Brendon quickly shakes his head, feeling his face light up bright with heat. “No, no, really, they don’t have to—”“Enough,” Pete says, holding up a hand. “Father?”Mr. Wentz clears his throat, his hands clasped behind his back in a similar manner to Pete’s. “I apologize for not treating you with the utmost respect, Mr. Urie. I was unaware just how...important you and your feelings were to my son, which was my misunderstanding. I won’t make the same mistake again.” He nods firmly, almost to himself, and Brendon wonders just what mistake he’s actually referring to.“Thank-thank you, sir,” Brendon whispers. He feels as if he’s in a dream, but the kind of almost-nightmare where he’s come to school in only his underwear and he knows it’s not real, but the embarrassment and vulnerability sure are.“Mother?” Pete turns, arching a brow.Mrs. Wentz looks as if she’d rather be shoveling cow manure for Dallon’s garden than where she is now, but she still takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she turns her gaze on Brendon. “I am sorry if my words offended or hurt you. That...was not my intention, and though that is no excuse, I apologize nonetheless.”Pete frowns, and a beat of silence passes as if he’s waiting for more from his mother, but nothing comes and Brendon nods before any more forced, awkward apologies can be made.“Thank you,” He repeats. “I, um, forgive you?”Mrs. Wentz nods shortly and takes her husband’s arm, turning swiftly on her heel and walking back down the hall with Mr. Wentz at her side. It isn’t until they’ve disappeared that Pete exhales and slumps against the wall.“Fuck. Jesus fuck.” He tilts his head back, eyes shut and one hand over his chest as if he’s just run a marathon. After a minute he blinks and looks at Brendon. “Was that good? I know it wasn’t much; they’re really bad at apologizing, they always have been, but I told them I would leak to the media that they’re homophobic assholes if they didn’t say sorry to you. It may be true, but they don’t want the world knowing it.” He gives a strained sort of laugh, almost hysterical, and briefly Brendon wonders when the last time he slept was; there are dark circles beneath his eyes that he’s only just noticed.“It was wonderful, Pete, thank you. You didn’t have to,” Brendon murmurs, reaching out and taking Pete’s hand, giving it a soft squeeze.Pete gives a soft, tired laugh and nods. “You’re welcome.” There’s a pause, pure silence filling the hall for a long minute. “They won’t be coming back. Not for a very long time, at least.”Brendon blinks, taking a step closer. “What? Why? Because of me?”“No, no. No, not because of you. Probably because I finally stood up to them. They said, though, that I needed to take some time to sort out my priorities and could call them when I’ve decided to become respectable again.” The same tired laugh leaves his lips, if a little more bitter this time. “As if I’ve ever been respectable.”Brendon frowns and tugs at his bottom lip before taking another step closer. “I think you’re very respectable. What you did for me was the kindest thing anyone’s ever done, I mean it. Thank you.” Before he can second-guess himself, he leans up on his tiptoes and presses a chaste kiss to Pete’s cheek before stepping back, his own flushed bright.Pete blinks and his deep brown eyes widen as he turns to look at Brendon. To Brendon’s surprise, Pete’s face is tinged just as pink as his own. After a minute, though, his skin fades back to its normal tan and he smiles. “Thank you.”Brendon nods, and Pete pushes up off the wall, straightening his shirt and brushing a hand through his hair.“Let’s get this over with, huh? Sooner they’re gone, sooner things can go back to normal.” Pete offers a slight smile that Brendon finds himself returning.“Yeah.” He nods. Normal will be nice. Hell, maybe Ryan will stop being a complete jackass, or at least take some time off as one. The thought makes Brendon bite back a laugh. As if.“And hey,” Brendon turns and Pete has his too-wide smile taking up half his face. “Once things calm down again, you can wear your outfit again, huh? Bet you’ve missed that thing, right?”Brendon fights back the flat stare threatening to take over his features and just shakes his head. “Oh yeah. Mhm.”Still, as strange as it is, outfit and all, Brendon can’t say he won’t be relieved to have things back to normal. Whatever the fuck that is. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Pete’s parents leave with far less pomp and ceremony than they arrived with. Maybe Pete talked to them about more than just Brendon, or maybe they just wanted to get the hell out before anything else could threaten to shake up their carefully constructed worlds. Either way, once the double doors shut behind them there’s a beat of silence before the entire room erupts into cheers. Brendon looks around, eyes widening as he sees servants tossing their bowties in the air and sharing embraces with one another. Jon even has an arm slung over Spencer’s shoulder as they both walk up, wide grins across their faces.“It’s finally over, fuck,” Jon breathes, tossing his head back and laughing.Spencer rolls his eyes, though the smile stretching across his cheeks isn't fading. “You do still have to work, though.”“Not tonight,” Jon hums, tugging at a strand of Spencer’s hair and earning a swipe towards his face that he neatly ducks.“Why not tonight?” Brendon asks, glancing over Spencer’s shoulder to see if he can get any sort of glimpse of Ryan.Spencer huffs. “Because tonight Pete is going to throw a huge fucking party to celebrate his parents leaving, like he always does, and he’s going to leave a huge fucking mess for everyone to clean up the next morning, like he always does.”Jon snorts. “Don’t act like you don’t have fun at them.”“I don’t even go to them anymore,” Spencer protests.“That’s only because you walked in on Ryan—” Jon swallows and shakes his head. “They’re fun, anyways,” he says to Brendon. “Lots of people go and sometimes they wear costumes and the music is pretty alright, and the food is usually really good too, but you have to keep your head on straight.”Spencer frowns. “I don’t know why you’re telling him all of this, it isn’t like he’s going.”Brendon blinks, turning back to look at the two bickering men in front of him; Ryan is nowhere to be seen. “What? Why not?”Spencer blinks too, eyes widening as if the idea of Brendon even thinking about going is beyond absurd. “Because they’re insane, Bren, Jesus. There're all kinds of drugs and everyone gets rip-roaring drunk and there are people fucking anywhere and everywhere, privacy be damned, I suppose. It’s just a huge mess.”“Not everyone is a giant prude like you,” Jon mumbles under his breath with a grin.Spencer shoots him an icy glare, but shakes his head and looks back to Brendon. “You don’t want to go, Brendon, all that’s waiting there for you is trouble, trouble, and more trouble. Trust me, you’re better off staying at home with us.”“Us?” Jon’s grin slides right off his face. “Who is us? You may not want to go, but that doesn’t mean I don’t!”Spencer whirls around, face a mix of fury and disbelief. “You can’t be serious! What the fuck do you want to go for? It isn’t like you drop acid regularly and the last time I saw you drink was a sip of wine that you spit out because you said it tasted like ass! What, you have someone you feel like fucking in front of everybody?”Pink blooms across Jon’s cheeks and slowly morphs into a deep red. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before shaking his head. “I didn’t say that. You just don’t have to assume everything, is all.”Spencer’s cheek flush lightly and to Brendon’s surprise, he nods. “I know, I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Just...after what happened last time, I don’t want anyone…”“I know,” Jon says softly, the color fading from his cheeks and a smile replacing his indignant expression.“What happened last time?” Brendon asks.Spencer turns, biting his lip. “Nothing. Nothing, don’t worry about it, you just really shouldn’t go, alright? You’ll only end up regretting it, one way or another.”Brendon opens his mouth to argue but a girl in a stark-white apron that must only be for presentation runs up and drags Spencer and Jon away with cries of a disaster in the kitchen. Sighing, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks and wistfully notes that this will probably be the last time he wears any kind of pants at work, for a while, at least.A flash of dark, messy hair and gangly limbs makes his gaze dart towards the front doors and he finds himself smiling to Alan as he passes through them, going out into the front yard.“Dallon!” He calls, stepping down the walkway and carefully avoiding the freshly planted flower beds.The gardener turns, squinting for a moment, and then smiles broadly. “Brendon! Hey, hallelujah, am I right? Ding dong the witches are dead!”Brendon laughs and jogs forward to catch up with Dallon. “I don’t think Pete’s parents are dead, but praise the lord all the same, I suppose.”Dallon laughs too, his teeth bright as his smile widens and his eyes crinkle nearly shut.“What are you doing?” Brendon asks. “Today’s a day off, right?”Dallon nods, resuming his walk across the grass, slower now that Brendon’s tagging along. “Yeah, I just wanted to check on the saplings is all. What are you doing?”“I dunno, nothing it seems,” Brendon murmurs. “Nothing to clean, no one to boss me around.”“Isn’t that a good thing?” Dallon asks, glancing down with an arched brow and the hint of a smirk on his lips.Brendon shrugs. “I guess, but I’m bored as hell. Spence and Jon had some culinary catastrophe to take care of and there's nothing to do.”Dallon nods, and Brendon finds himself grateful for the fact that he doesn’t ask about Ryan, though it’s obvious the other boy is what’s filling the silence.“Did you hear about Pete’s party?” Dallon asks instead, holding the door to the toolshed open for Brendon before stepping in after him.“Yeah, but Spencer said I shouldn’t go. Apparently, Satan himself comes and turns everyone into dirty sinners and then you die.” Brendon mutters, toying with a broken piece of flowerpot.“Oh?” Dallon doesn’t turn from where he’s examining tiny planted trees, lifting their leaves gently and bending down to peer into the soil.Brendon nods. “He nearly blew a gasket when Jon mentioned going himself.”Dallon chuckles. “Well, they’re practically married, aren’t they? He would care about his husband going off to party with strangers.”“Are you gonna go?” Brendon asks, glancing up as Dallon turns around with a satisfied nod, his saplings apparently acceptable.“Ah, I don’t know. I’m not much of a partier, I’d rather stay at home and play music or something.” Dallon smiles as Brendon holds the door open for him now and turns to lock it with the same old skeleton key he himself used to have.Watching his step for the cracked piece of concrete that was once a stepping stone, Brendon stops to wait for Dallon to lock up. “Yeah, me too.”Dallon’s cheeks are pink, but whether that’s from his pleasure at Brendon waiting or the Sun beating down on them, Brendon can’t say. “Are you gonna go? You only said Spencer told you not to, not whether you would.”Brendon makes a noncommittal noise, tilting his head back and forth. “I dunno, probably not. I was never into that whole ‘get fucked up and not remember last night’ game. I wake up with enough headaches as it is.”“You’re preaching to the choir, kid,” Dallon laughs, falling into step beside him as they make their way back to the house.“I am curious, though,” Brendon admits. “Spencer makes it sound like Pete is Gatsby and the whole city is coming to disregard prohibition together.”Dallon gives a small smile. “I think I’m gonna head home for the day, since everything seems to be quiet for now. Let me know if you do go, though. Maybe I’ll go too, just for a little while, to see things. Not many Gatsby parties are thrown these days.”Brendon can feel his heart skip a beat as he nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah I will, for sure.”Dallon nods too and opens one of the large double doors for Brendon, winking as he shuts it, leaving three inches of oak between them.---There’s a little bounce in his step as Brendon walks down the hall, past all of the guestrooms and towards the tiny closet that holds all of his cleaning supplies. He’s out of a few things and told himself after Pete’s parents left that he’d take inventory and make a list of what he needs. Humming some song to himself that he heard on the radio and can’t remember the name of, he nods his head to the beat. Thoughts of Pete’s party are dancing around in his head; it isn’t that he really wants to go, especially if Spencer thinks it’ll be so dangerous, but he is curious as to just what happened last time. Ryan will probably be there, though, and Brendon’s more confused than ever about where they stand at this point. He definitely doesn’t want to risk getting drunk and making even more of a fool of himself than he already has, that’s for sure. In fact, he doesn’t really want to get drunk at all; memories of Carson Nguyen swirl in his head, mixing with those of his mother screaming and flinging the torn pages of his Michelangelo book at him. No, a night in with Spencer and Jon sounds far better than doing something Pete would consider fun, the fact of which really should have been enough to sway him from going in the first place.“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”Brendon freezes. That’s Pete’s voice. Grimacing, he shakes his head and rolls his eyes; it’s been hardly thirty minutes since his parents have left and he’s already hooking up with someone? It isn’t like he can say he’s surprised, but who could have had the time to get here and be fucking around with him in just this short span of time? Frowning he glances back over his shoulder at the closed door where Pete’s moans are coming from. It only takes a few seconds for his heart to sink to his stomach as he realizes exactly who is behind that door with Pete.“Jesus fucking Christ, Ryan,” Pete groans.Brendon bites down on his lip, hard, and shakes his head. It’s none of his business; he and Ryan have barely said two words to each other since Pete’s parents arrived and all this is is a stupid, childish fucking crush. His chest shouldn’t be aching this way. Why is his chest aching this way?“He really doesn’t have any sense of dignity, does he?”Brendon whirls around, stumbling back away from the stranger towering over him and clutching at his chest where his heart threatens to pound right out of his ribcage.It’s a man, tall and broad, with dark skin and lots of tattoos, more than Brendon could count just by looking. He’s wearing large glasses that make his face look gentle and friendly, and as he pushes a handful of dreadlocks back into one hand to tie up, he smiles.“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just heard Pete and was gonna tell him to shut the fuck up.”Brendon nods, eyes wide.“I’m Travie,” the man tries, offering his free hand.“I’m—I’m Brend—Brendon,” Brendon manages, taking Travie’s heavily inked hand and shaking it.Travie smiles and nods. “Nice to meet you. Sorry for nearly giving you a heart attack, I thought you heard me coming.”“I did not,” Brendon breathes, straightening up and pushing a hand through his hair. “Nice to meet you. Who are you, exactly?”Travie laughs, a wide grin spreading over his face. “Well, I suppose you would have to ask him for a formal definition; we've fucked around a few times, dated a little while, but all in all I’m just one of Pete’s friends. Arguably his best friend, though Gabe might resent that. I’m here for the party. That’s tonight, right?”Brendon nods. “Yeah, yeah it is. I think it is, at least, I haven’t actually heard very much about it.”“Are you going?” Travie asks.Brendon opens his mouth to say no, he is not going, he would rather die than go to this party full of booze and drugs and sex and rich people, but another moan joins Pete’s in the room behind them and he glances back for a split second before nodding.“Yes. Yes I am.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “You stupid fucker,” Brendon mutters to himself, shaking his head. “You really were that bitch, huh? ‘Oh yes, of course I’m going to my billionaire boss’ party full of rich people I'm nothing like, yeah, I’ll see you there!’ You don’t have anything to fucking wear, what were you thinking?”“You know, they say talking to yourself is a symptom of insanity,” A voice says from the doorway. “Or was it genius? I can’t remember.” Jon shrugs, walking in without waiting for Brendon to invite him.Brendon sighs, turning away from the mirror where he's been berating himself for the last half hour and flopping onto the bed. “It must be insanity because that’s the only way my decision to go to this fucking thing makes any sense.”“You know you don’t have to go,” Jon points out. He kneels beside Brendon’s guitar in the corner and absentmindedly strums the strings. “It’s not like Pete will fire you for not showing up.”Brendon rolls onto his back, staring up at the bare ceiling. “I know. But I want to go... I think.” Ever since he told Travie he'd be going, his mind has been a chaotic, messy war over whether that's true or not, and so far no clear winner has made itself obvious. Jon laughs and straightens back up, walking over to sit beside Brendon and ruffle his hair. “Is this just some sort of teenage rebellion? Are you crying out for help?”Brendon snorts, throwing his arms above his head. “No, dad, but thank you for your concern.”“Of course, son.” Jon grins down at him, warm and kind, and for a moment the weight on Brendon's chest lifts. “You know, your mother is absolutely losing his shit over you going to this thing. I think he’s considering tying you up and leaving you here just so you can’t go.”Brendon's mouth turns down in a frown. “I don’t want Spencer to worry,” he insists. “I probably won’t even stay that long, I just… I need to get my mind off of things, need some time to just let go.” Need some time to think about anything other than fucking Ryan. Jon’s smile becomes a knowing frown. “Pete’s party isn’t going to make you forget anything, not permanently, and I hope you're not going to do something stupid just because you want to run away from your problems. You should really just talk to him, Bren.”Brendon sits up and mashes his palms into his eyes, rubbing them before gripping the ends of his hair, elbows resting on his knees. He doesn't even pretend to not know who Jon means. “About what? What am I supposed to say, Jon? ‘Hey, this may seem really out of the blue but I was wondering just exactly why you hate me?’ Yeah, I’m sure that’ll really open up a good discussion.”“You’re being dramatic,” Jon says, not unkindly. “He doesn’t hate you, Ryan’s just… complicated is all. And I don’t mean that in a beautiful, poetic way, I mean it in a frustrating, douchey way.”“If he doesn’t hate me, why does he always act like I'm the only one who fucks up, and look at me as if there's no one else in the world he'd rather be farther away from, or just flat-out ignore me any other time?” Brendon demands, lifting his head now and looking over, brow furrowed and cheeks hot. It's the same question he's been asking himself almost since he started working inside for Pete, and just like each time he's asked it before, he has no answer other than the one he desperately doesn't want now. Jon shakes his head, smiling slightly. “If you don’t know, I can’t be the one to tell you.”Brendon groans, falling back on the mattress and tossing an arm over his eyes. “You’re no help to me, Jon Walker, just absolutely useless.”“Funny,” Jon hums. “Pete’s mom said the exact same thing to me the other day.”A smile twitches at Brendon’s lips, though he doesn’t move. Maybe he will just stay home, sprawled across his bed and feeling sorry for himself. If he can't go to Pete's party without looking like a fool, at least he can throw his own pity party here; he's dressed for that at least. “Maybe I’m no help with Ryan, but I can find you something to wear for the party,” Jon offers.The extra weight lifts off of Brendon’s bed and he moves his arm to look over. Jon is rummaging through his—sadly lacking—closet and shaking his head.“No, no. None of that. You have to go big or go home for these things,” he mutters.“I don’t have anything ‘big’,” Brendon mumbles.Jon turns, grinning. “Well lucky for you, I know somebody who does.”---“Jesus, Spence, that’s a lot of glitter, even for me,” Brendon says, twisting around to look at his back. The shirt Jon shoved over his head shimmers and sparkles a pale blue, rustling with his movements.Spencer rolls his eyes, though his cheeks are a slight pink. “Yeah, well, I only wore it once anyway.”“The theme was ‘stardust’,” Jon explains.Brendon blinks, turning. “There are themes for these things?”“No one really follows them,” Spencer snorts. “Pete should just say the theme is ‘slutty’ each year; that’s how everyone dresses anyways.”Jon grins. “There’s that inner prude coming out again.”“I’ll show you a prude, Jon Walker,” Spencer growls, taking a step forward and raising his fist.“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Jon asks, arching a brow.Brendon turns away from the pair and continues to rummage through Spencer’s closet, pushing hangers back and tugging drawers open before finally pulling something out. “What about this?”Spencer blinks, wriggling away from where Jon has him locked in a chokehold and elbowing the other boy in the side for good measure. “Oh, that’s slutty alright.”Brendon blushes and looks at it, nodding. “I like it. Can I try it on?”“Try anything you want,” Spencer says. “Like I said, most of it is shit I only wore one time for those damn parties, I doubt anyone will notice you borrowed it from me.”“Thanks,” Brendon murmurs, going back into the bathroom to strip down and change. The sequins from Spencer’s shirt scratch at his cheeks as he tugs it off, but once he’s dressed again in the new clothes he hardly notices; it’s certainly nothing he would ever wear on a day-to-day basis.For one, the pants are made of a shiny gold leather that hugs his thighs tight and clings to him all the way down to his ankles, more than accentuating curves he didn’t have before in his plain jeans. There are pockets, but he isn’t sure he could fit anything in them from the way the fabric basically makes itself a second skin. The shirt is a simple black tee, but it’s form-fitting as well and the v-neck dips lower than any he’s ever worn before. At least there’s no glitter, and knowing Pete he probably won’t even be the gaudiest person there by a longshot.Opening the bathroom door, he steps carefully out, biting his lip and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Spencer now has Jon pinned to the floor and his cheeks scrunched up like he's about to spit on the other man. Brendon frowns, crossing his arms. “Well?”Jon looks up and whistles, long and low.“You’ll fit right in,” Spencer says, sighing and crawling back off of Jon to sit on the floor against his bed.“I’m gonna be fine,” Brendon laughs, albeit a little nervously. “What’s the worst that could happen? I’ll get too drunk and fuck some bratty rich kid?”There’s no response from either man, but Spencer stands and beckons him over to a small vanity, sitting down.“You’ll need a little makeup, just so you don’t stand out,” he says, offering a small stick of eyeliner.Brendon blinks. “Makeup will make me stick out less?”“Oh god, you are so in for it,” Jon snickers.Spencer tugs him down so their faces are level and then skillfully swipes a line of black beneath each of Brendon’s eyes, smudging it carefully with his fingertips and tilting Brendon's head this way and that before nodding to himself. “There.”Brendon blinks for a moment, waiting for his eyes to refocus before he glances in the mirror. His eyes are wide, but the makeup makes them seem alluring and sexy instead of perpetually surprised. “I don’t even look like myself,” he breathes, lightly tapping at the smudged black under his eyes. “Don’t fuck it up,” Spencer huffs, grabbing Brendon’s wrist. “Not yet, at least.”Brendon smiles and nods, leaning down to wrap his arms around the cook and hug him close for a moment. “Thanks, Spence.”“What about me?” Jon asks indignantly.Laughing, Brendon pulls away and opens his arms.“I don’t want your pity hug,” Jon sniffs. “But I will take your undying thanks and call it a day.”Brendon rolls his eyes and grabs Jon’s shirt, pulling him in for a brief embrace. “Thank you, Jon Walker, I’m sure I’d be absolutely nothing without your endless patience for me.”He can feel Jon’s smile against his shoulder and the small trembles of his body as he laughs. “Yeah, you got that right. And don’t you forget it.”“You’d better go on then,” Spencer says, nodding towards the door. “Can’t exactly be late to these things, but you’ll want to get there before things go full swing.”Brendon pulls back, straightening his shirt and nodding. He hopes they don't notice that his hands are sweaty and shaking. “Yeah, alright. I guess I’ll see you guys later tonight, then.”“You’ll call if you need us?” Spencer says, pushing a hand through his hair.“Of course,” Brendon promises.Jon waves, falling back onto Spencer’s bed. “Make your mother and me proud!”Brendon grins, shaking his head and shutting the door behind him as goes down the hall and then outside. Immediately he can see the mansion ahead of him glowing bright with what seems like every light it holds, many of different colors that flicker every few seconds. Music is already blaring out, loud enough he can catch snippets of the song quite clearly from his doorstep; if things aren’t already in full swing, he’s not sure if he won’t be running back home by the end of the hour. Bracing himself, he takes a step forward and nods. “It’s now or never, Urie,” he murmurs to himself, taking a deep breath. “May as well be now.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Brendon ends up standing at the front door for nearly ten minutes. He’s knocked over and over, until his knuckles ached and the raw skin over them threatened to split, but no one’s answered. Maybe the music roaring from inside is too loud for anyone to hear him; the bass is thumping so hard he can feel it in the soles of Spencer’s shiny black dress shoes. Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe he should just leave. Footsteps behind him make him turn and he spots the man from before—Pete’s friend, he said his name was...Travie, that’s right—coming up the way, arms laden with a few plastic sacs.“The party’s inside you know,” Travie laughs.Brendon blinks and feels his cheeks begin to grow warm. “No one’s answering the door.”Travie laughs again, louder, his head tilting back. “And no one’s going to, brother. You let yourself in, you think Alan’s in there waiting around for the doorbell?”Brendon’s skin only heats further as he pictures the elderly butler throwing shots back with Pete. He hopes it’s dark enough that Travie can’t see. “Well, no…”Travie shifts the sacs in his arms and Brendon hears glass clink. “Come on, I’ll show you where everyone’s at.”Brendon nods and pulls one of the heavy oak doors open, waiting for Travie to pass through before he follows.If he thought it was loud outside, he’s surprised his eardrums don’t burst the moment he enters the mansion. Not only can he feel the bass reverberating through his feet, but he can feel it pounding in his chest, seemingly to the rhythm of his heartbeat.Everywhere he looks there are writhing bodies swathed in all kinds of shimmer and sparkle, though there’s far more skin visible than cloth. As he glances around with wide, awestruck eyes, Brendon spots Pete in the corner with a broad grin and a short, pale boy with strawberry blonde hair peeking out from a ballcap and thick black glasses next to him. He looks entirely awkward in comparison to Pete, alternately tugging the brim of his hat down and pushing the bridge of his glasses up. He’s dressed modestly at least, in a dark-blue t-shirt and worn jeans. He’s also got some of the most dramatic sideburns Brendon’s ever seen.Pete, for his part, is in nothing but skin-tight black jeans and messy eyeliner. As they approach, his gaze shifts from the chubby boy in front of him to Travie and his eyes grow bright.“You’re back!” He cries, launching himself forward to throw his arms around the much larger man.“I just went down the street for more booze, I told you that,” Travie says, rolling his eyes as he sets the sacs down on a nearby table filled with half-empty bottles and large bowls of chips. He looks like a giant with Pete’s tiny frame wrapped around him.“I told you that too, remember? About five minutes ago when you asked where he went, and ten minutes before that, and a half hour before that.” The boy next to Pete arches a brow and Brendon’s surprised to find he’s a lot less soft-spoken than he looks.Pete grins, unashamed, and lets Travie peel him off of him. “Sorry, Pattycakes. I just get so distracted looking at you, makes my head get all fuzzy.”The boy snorts, but his face reddens. “You sure that isn’t just all the beer you’ve had?”“Enough, you two,” Travie says, though he’s smiling. “Save it for when you’re married.”Pete sticks his tongue out, but his friend only shakes his head.“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your buddy here, Wentz?” He asks.“I’m Brendon,” Brendon says, smiling and offering his hand.The boy takes it, smiling too. “Patrick; nice to meet you. No offense, but you look far too sane to be friends with him,” he says, nodding to where Pete is now trying to convince Travie to hold him upside down so he can do a keg stand despite there being no kegs to be seen.Brendon gives a small laugh. “We aren’t really friends; I just work for him.”“Oh yeah," Patrick nods slowly. "I remember Pete telling me about you. His parents gave you a lot of shit, huh?”Brendon bites down on a frown, shrugging.“Well, I am sorry for you,” Patrick says, looking sincere. “But I also have to thank you; I’ve been waiting for him to stand up to them for ages. I just feel bad that they had to treat you so terribly for him to do it.”Brendon gives a small smile despite himself. Even if Pete’s parents were the closest thing to Satan he’s ever encountered, there’s something about this boy with the soft features acknowledging his struggle that makes him feel like perhaps it was...maybe not worth it, exactly, but at least not entirely pointless.“Brendon!” Pete calls, loud and ever-demanding over the music.Brendon turns, blinking.“Come drink with us!” Pete cries, grinning wide. He’s got the neck of a glass bottle clutched in each fist, and when Brendon squints he can see the labels declaring one filled with vodka and the other with tequila.Travie is grinning too, one arm wrapped around Pete, but he doesn’t look nearly as trashed as the billionaire.Brendon bites his lip. “Pete, I dunno…”Spencer’s vague warnings chime in his head and he finds himself wishing the cook were here now to save him. Well, maybe not Spencer because he’d probably be full of ‘I told you so’s and ‘This is why you should just always listen to me’s, but Jon would be much appreciated.“Pete, not everyone needs to get blackout drunk to have a good time,” Patrick says.Pete turns, blinking in surprise for a moment before flipping Patrick off.“How mature,” Patrick says flatly.“‘How mature,’” Pete mocks, rolling his eyes. “You’re no fun, Trick.”Brendon gives a sheepish, apologetic smile and opens his mouth to say that just leaves more booze for Pete when he spots a familiar dark head over Pete’s shoulder and his words solidify in his mouth, stumbling over each other and skidding to a stop just before his lips.Ryan is in a simple white t-shirt and a leather jacket over very tight jeans. He’s talking to a girl with turquoise hair that nearly glows from the amount of glitter on her body, but his gaze flicks away from her face and finds Brendon’s. Briefly, he looks surprised, but his expression shifts to one of something like disdain and he shakes his head before looking away again.The words that were stuck in Brendon's mouth seem to come alive again, morphing and charging forward. “Hey, actually, Pete,” he says, turning to look at his boss. “Let’s get fucked up.”---“Stay still,” Travie laughs, pinning Brendon’s hips down to the table he’s sprawled across.Brendon wiggles, laughing too. “It’s hard, that’s really cold!” He cries, pointing to the nearly empty bottle of tequila in Travie’s hand.“This was your idea,” Travie retorts, grinning.He’s right, of course, and while Brendon can’t remember when exactly he suggested they all do body shots, he does remember Pete giving a loud whoop and clapping him on the shoulder, declaring that he should have been partying with them ages ago.The billionaire now snatches the bottle away from Travie and clumsily slops some of the cool alcohol across Brendon’s bare torso. “Lick that shit up!” He cackles loudly, throwing his head back.Brendon giggles as Travie leans down, keeping his hands firmly holding Brendon’s waist still as he dips his head and laps the tequila up before grabbing a lime slice from a nearby bowl, biting down on it.The feeling of Travie’s tongue on his skin mixed with the wink he shoots Brendon afterwards makes his skin tingle. Though, to be fair, that could be the multiple shots he’s done in the past hour.“You’re cute,” Travie says, offering a hand and pulling him up to sit. “If you weren’t shitfaced, maybe I’d lick more than your stomach.”Brendon can feel his face flare bright and hot, but all he can think to say is, “I am not shitfaced.”“Go get some water, Brendon,” Patrick calls, smiling. He’s been nursing the same beer for the past forty-five minutes. “You need it.”Brendon huffs, sticking his tongue out, but stumbles off to find a drink that doesn’t make his throat burn, Patrick laughing and exclaiming, “Pete, look what you’ve got him doing!” behind him.“And just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”Brendon blinks, turning.Ryan has his arms crossed over his chest and a distinct frown on his lips.Call it the alcohol or call it the fact that Brendon’s spent the last week getting berated and looked down upon as if he were the lowest of the low by two people who have enough money to swim in it and then some, but suddenly he finds that he has no patience for Ryan’s condescending gaze at all. He glares, lips turning down. “What does it matter to you?”Ryan’s frown deepens. “I’m not kidding, what are you doing out there? You’re not like them, you’re not one of them, why are you playing their games? Why are you even here?”It’s something about the way Ryan says it; like Brendon is some kind of goddamn idiot for even showing up at all, like just by standing in front of Ryan he’s made the biggest fool of himself. Maybe a few hours ago he would have felt embarrassed, possibly even ashamed, and maybe he would have just gone home and berated himself for being so stupid, but not now. Now, he’s got liquid courage running beneath his too-warm skin and words that have been boiling and churning in his mouth for fucking weeks.“Oh, I’m sorry, did I crash your little party? Push into your stupid fucking ‘no girls allowed’ club? Newsflash, Ryan: I may be stuck wearing that stupid fucking dress, but I’m just as much a fucking person as you are!”Ryan’s cheeks flush, but whether from anger or embarrassment, Brendon can’t tell. The lights are flickering from a light, clear blue to a pale pink and back. It only makes Ryan’s skin seem rosier.“I never said you weren’t a person, Brendon,” he says, sounding exasperated. “This place just isn’t for you, for people like you.”Brendon grits his teeth. “And just what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”“It means you’re drunk, Bren, go home,” Ryan says firmly.“Oh fuck—you!” Brendon snaps. “You don’t get to keep doing this! You say I’m playing their games? What about your games, Ryan? All of this hot and cold shit, one minute you’re helping me with Pete and my job, the next you won’t even fucking look at me. Is it the outfit? What, do you get off on me in that stupid fucking skirt?” Brendon sneers.Sure, he doesn’t actually think that (or hope that, he tells himself) but he’s more than a little drunk and the words are just spilling out. He couldn’t stop himself if he wanted to. And he doesn’t.Ryan’s face flames a bright red, but at that moment the lights flick back to blue, making his skin seem a pale lavender. There’s a fire in his eyes so hot that Brendon is surprised he doesn’t feel flames licking at his skin.For a moment, they just stare at one another. Ryan looks like steam could start coming out of his ears at any moment and for his part, Brendon is having to clench his fists that are shaking from the rage running through his alcohol-soaked veins.The lights continue to flicker: pink, blue, pink, blue, pink, blue, and if Brendon weren’t so focused on the fury at Ryan’s absolute audacity flowing through him, he thinks he’d probably be dizzy.It feels like one of those bad Western movies his dad used to watch where the two cowboys had a standoff in the middle of town, tense and waiting for the other to make a move, ready to gun each other down.Ryan makes the first move, in the end, but all he does is shake his head and stalk off. Brendon watches as he makes his way over to Pete—who is now adamantly waving his hands as he eagerly tells Patrick something Brendon can’t hear— and leans down to whisper in his ear. Pete grins and nods, and the two disappear upstairs.Something hard sticks in Brendon’s throat and aches when he swallows, making his eyes burn.“Brendon!”Brendon twists around in surprise. A tall man with a shock of dark hair, and glitter on his cheeks waves and jogs over. He’s got on teal eyeliner, dark pants, and a white shirt with black spades patterned across it. It takes Brendon a moment to realize he’s Dallon.“Hey, you look great!” Dallon exclaims, beaming wide as he approaches.Brendon bites his lip, smiling slightly. “So do you. I like the glitter.”Dallon blinks, an embarrassed smile spreading across his pink-tinged cheeks. The lights are no longer pink and blue, but now are a steady, warm gold color.“Thanks,” Dallon says, rubbing at the back of his neck, still smiling.Brendon smiles a little wider. Ryan wants to go and play with Pete? Fine by him, he has absolute perfection in front of him now.“When did you get here?” He asks, glancing around at the rest of the party.Patrick has disappeared and Travie is cleaning up the trash scattered about of all things.“Just now,” Dallon laughs. “It kind of took awhile for me to get ready, and then I wasn’t really sure if I should come.”“Well, I’m glad you did,” Brendon says honestly.Dallon grins, tilting his head to the side. “Yeah?”Brendon grins too, nodding. Now that Ryan is gone, the looming threat of a shouting match disappearing with him, Brendon can feel himself coming down from his adrenaline-induced high. His head is starting to swim again, the room swaying slightly.“Are...you okay?” Dallon asks, stepping forward and taking Brendon by his shoulders to peer down at him, concern making his brow furrow low.“Fine,” Brendon says softly. His voice sounds distant to his ears, the roaring music only a vague background noise.“Are you sure? You don’t look so good, you been drinking?” Dallon’s mouth quirks down into a small frown.Thoughts of Ryan’s furious expression mixed with his biting words swirl around Brendon’s mind. Honestly, who the fuck does he think he is, trying to tell Brendon what to do and where he belongs? White hot anger fills him to the brim, sudden and violent. He looks up at Dallon, something like determination pushing words out of his mouth.“Do you wanna fuck me?”Dallon’s eyes go wide, wider than Brendon ever knew a person’s eyes could go. For a moment, he just stares, his grip tightening ever so slightly on Brendon’s shoulders, though Brendon isn’t sure if that’s on purpose.“Did Pete give you something?” Dallon’s voice is flat and hard when he asks, gaze flicking up and around as if trying to locate the billionaire.Brendon frowns. “What, like drugs?”Dallon grimaces, saying nothing.“I’m not high!” Brendon cries, pulling out of Dallon’s hold.“Well you’re definitely not sober,” Dallon says firmly.Brendon rolls his eyes. “Whatever, do you wanna fuck me or not?”If Brendon weren’t completely and utterly fucked up, he might say Dallon looked disappointed. With no warning, he grows hot and dizziness threatens to toss him to the floor. A lump forms in his throat and he tries with all his might to force the burning ache down, but his vision still blurs with tears.Dallon sighs softly. “Okay, come on. Let’s find you a bathroom.”Brendon almost asks why on Earth Dallon would think he needed a bathroom when a wave of nausea nearly brings him to his knees. He whimpers softly and nods, stumbling forward only to find himself scooped off his feet and in solid, warm arms. Dallon has to ask a few people for directions—normally Brendon could tell him the entire layout of the house, but at that moment he doesn’t think he could tell the gardener his name—but eventually, they find an empty bathroom with a blessedly clean toilet. Gently, Dallon sets Brendon on the cool tile floor and turns to lock the door behind them.Brendon opens his mouth to thank him, but his body lurches and vomit spills into the toilet, hot and sour and stinging. It’s mostly alcohol, sharp and burning, and Brendon groans weakly. Behind him, he feels a firm hand on his back and he can see Dallon kneel beside him from the corner of his eye. He lurches again, bile spilling from his lips. He’s not sure when tears begin to flow down his cheeks, mixing with the cold sweat coating his shaking body, but he can’t bring himself to care. He just cries and throws up, letting Dallon smooth the damp hair away from his forehead and rub his back, all the while murmuring, “That’s it, let it out.”---Eventually, Brendon’s body decides it has nothing left to purge and he leans back, half-collapsing against Dallon. His body trembles weakly against the gardener’s, tiny spasms rippling through him.“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, voice cracking. He can still hear the music blasting outside the door; it makes his head ache. “I’m so sorry.”“I know,” Dallon murmurs, his voice soft and soothing. He begins to gently rock Brendon back and forth, cradling him close.Brendon realizes his tears have not stopped and he’s still crying, voice shaking pathetically. “No, really, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, fuck, I’m so sorry.”“I know,” Dallon says again, still rocking him.Brendon turns and buries his face in Dallon’s chest, gasping for air that just won’t come. “I think I love him.”A tender hand runs through his hair, lightly scratching against his scalp. “I know.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Brendon stirs and starts to groan, but quickly stifles the noise as it makes his entire head feel like it might bust open. Pain is all he can register; excruciating, incapacitating, pure kill-me-now pain. Then the nausea hits.Clutching his stomach, he rolls to one side only for his elbow to bump something solid and his cheek to mash against something warm and soft. The struggle to pry his eyes open is greater than any he’s ever faced in his life, and when he succeeds, his vision is blurred and the bright lights above only make his head hurt worse. The first thing he notices is that he’s in the bathroom—or, a bathroom—curled up in the tub on top of something slightly damp that’s rising and falling steadily.The warm thing beneath him shifts and the sound of a deep inhale brushes over Brendon’s ears.“Good morning.”Brendon blinks slowly, squinting as he tilts his head up.Dallon offers a sleepy smile. “I wondered when you’d come out of your little coma.”Brendon wrinkles his nose. “I wish I hadn’t.”“Yeah, I can’t imagine you feel on top of the world right now,” Dallon nods sagely. “You were really drunk.”Brendon frowns to himself, racking his brain for any kind of memory of last night. Nothing surfaces, though, and he’s left staring at his hands in his lap, shivering as the AC kicks in and blows across his bare back. Do you wanna fuck me? His body goes rigid, and slowly he lifts his gaze to look up into Dallon’s face. His button-down shirt is hanging open, exposing smooth skin that shines lightly with sweat. “Did...did we…?” Brendon can’t force the words past the bile rising in his throat. His stomach churns, and the looming threat of vomit has nothing to do with his hangover now. Dallon’s lips twist down and he furrows his brow. “Absolutely not. Seriously, you were wasted; you think I’m that kind of guy?”Heat fills Brendon’s cheeks, searing across his skin. “No, no of course not. I don’t. I just don’t remember anything, and my shirt is gone…”“You threw up on yourself,” Dallon says matter-of-factly, shifting so Brendon is between his legs instead of sitting on them. “Patrick and I had to wrestle it off.”Brendon groans softly, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. He can just picture it: his drunk self stumbling around, making a total ass of himself in front of everyone, so shitfaced he pukes all over himself and then can’t even get his own goddamned shirt off. He’s not sure if being unable to remember anything is a blessing or a curse; his imagination can be particularly cruel when it wants to be.“The amount of self-loathing that's radiating off of you is palpable,” Dallon says softly. “Come on, let’s go get some breakfast. There’s no use in dwelling; you can’t change what happened.”Brendon sighs, but gives a very slight smile. “That doesn’t exactly make me feel any better.”Dallon laughs, ruffling Brendon’s hair as he clambers out of the tub. “Ah well, can’t win ‘em all. On the bright side, I think I can smell pancakes.”---He could, in fact, smell pancakes. And as they got closer to the kitchen, the scent of bacon and toast hit them as well. Brendon highly doubted Spencer and Jon were cooking breakfast for all of the leftover guests, but he also couldn’t imagine who would be. Just outside the door, he could hear singing. It was soft, so soft he couldn’t even make out the words, but beautiful, and somehow it made the tight knot of anxiety loosen in his chest. He almost didn’t even want to go inside, since whoever was singing would probably stop when they did, but before he could express the sentiment Dallon was pushing the door open.“Patrick.” Brendon blinks, surprise filling the small part of his brain that isn’t exhausted and hungover.The older boy turns—looking equally surprised—with a spatula in one hand and a plate of steaming pancakes in the other. He’s got an apron on that’s patterned with ducks (and Brendon knows that’s not Spencer’s) and a trucker cap planted on his head with ‘BINGO’ written across the top.“You’re awake,” Patrick says, blinking. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”Brendon shakes his head. “No, no, we were already awake. Dallon just smelled pancakes and came running.”Dallon shrugs, looking unapologetic. “Every man has his weakness.”“Well feel free to eat them up, I definitely miscalculated the amount of batter I would need, so we’re looking at an IHOP-style endless pancake breakfast.” Patrick grins and sets the plate on the small table against the far wall.Dallon rubs his hands together eagerly and takes a seat, grabbing a fork and scooping three pancakes onto his plate before going to town.Brendon smiles and sits across from him, making a plate for himself. He takes a bite, nodding. “Patrick, this is really good!”“It just came out of a box,” Patrick says, cheeks flushing. “Don’t tell Spencer.”Brendon shakes his head, shoving another bite into his mouth; Dallon is already going for seconds. Mix from a box or not, the pancakes are warm and buttery, and they settle in his stomach nicely without making him want to throw up at all; it’s a goddamn miracle.“Hey, you made breakfast!” Travie cries as he walks into the room.Patrick laughs. “Spread the word, there’s plenty for everyone.”Travie nods, grabbing a stool and sliding in between Dallon and Brendon. He takes a stack of five pancakes and inhales them all before Brendon’s even finished his measly two.“So, Trav, how long are you staying?” Patrick asks, twisting around to pour some more batter into the frying pan next to him.“Leaving tomorrow,” Travie says. “I have to get back to school.”Patrick nods, turning to Brendon and Dallon. “Travie’s in art school,” he explains. “He’s going for his BFA right now, but honestly he’s probably going to end up being some world-famous artist that people pay millions of dollars for within the next couple of years.”Travie rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah? People gonna pay millions for my graffiti in the subway?”“I would,” Patrick says simply.Travie blinks, saying nothing as he goes back to his pancakes, but Brendon notes that his cheeks look a little warmer.---A few people do come and grab some pancakes, but they don’t stay to eat and once Travie bids his farewells, it’s just Dallon, Brendon, and Patrick again.“How are you feeling?” Patrick asks, taking the dishes and setting them in the sink.Brendon nods. “Better. My head doesn’t feel like it’s going to split in two, at least.”“Well, what more could you ask for?” Dallon winks, standing and taking his plate to the sink too, twisting the faucet to rinse it off.Brendon snorts. He takes his dish as well, grabbing a rag to wipe off the table before handing the plate over to Dallon. God forbid Spencer comes back and see any kind of sign they were here.“Guess I’ll be heading home, then,” Dallon says, taking the clean plates and putting them back up. “I need at least one day to recuperate before work.”The thought of having to come back to this godforsaken hell-hole in just forty-eight hours makes Brendon’s heart sink. He may not remember everything that happened last night at the party, but Ryan’s face and a mix of pure, white-hot fury and shame swirl around in his head. Maybe he will throw up after all.“I’ll see you around, Bren, okay?” Dallon smiles, patting Brendon’s cheek before going out the door.Brendon waves, one hand still covered in soap-suds.“He went home last night,” Patrick says softly.Brendon turns, wiping his hands on a spare towel and tilting his head. “Who did?”“Ryan,” Patrick murmurs. “He didn’t stay the night. I’m pretty sure he didn’t even—” He shakes his head. “Well, anyways, I meant what I said last night.”Brendon blinks. “About what?”Patrick arches a brow, lips twisting into a very slight smirk. “You don’t remember?”“I don’t remember much of anything from last night,” Brendon frowns. “What did you say?”Patrick just smiles, a sort of knowing, secretive hint of a grin that immediately makes irritation creep beneath Brendon’s skin. “My number is in your phone. Text me sometime.”“You really aren’t going to tell me?” Brendon huffs.“Tell Spencer and Jon I said hi and that I missed them last night,” Patrick calls, walking out the door, not turning around to look at Brendon as he waves.Brendon fights the urge to stomp his foot. At least until the door shuts and he knows Patrick can’t see him.---Brendon braces himself as he stands in front of the door. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he was doing the exact same thing, except that time it was a far larger, more expensive door, and this time he isn’t scared of facing bratty rich kids who’ll judge him for anything and everything. No, what he’s scared of this time is far worse.The door is unlocked, so he walks in and quickly looks around.“He’s not here.”Brendon starts, eyes widening as he whirls to face Spencer. The older boy is leaning against the counter, expression dangerously neutral.Brendon doesn’t pretend to not know who he’s talking about.“Has he been home?”Spencer nods. “We talked.”Brendon nods too, biting his lip as he stares at his feet.“It’s not my problem.” Spencer’s voice isn’t upset, but there’s something hidden just beneath his tone that Brendon can’t quite catch. “I won’t tell you what to do, or what I think, but...just don’t let this go on for too long, alright? It’ll be a real bitch living with you two if you can’t even look at each other.”Brendon nods again, swallowing and lifting his gaze.Spencer smiles, just the tiniest lift of one side of his mouth. “Besides that, did you have fun?”“Who knows? I’m pretty sure I asked Dallon to fuck me, just to get my mind off of that other shit. He said no, obviously, so I’ll forever live in shame.” Brendon runs a hand through his hair, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling.“As one does,” Spencer agrees.Brendon sighs, closing his eyes for a minute. “What am I gonna do, Spence?”“Well, first I would say you should talk to Dallon about what happened; he’s a gentleman, he won’t bring it up unless you do first.” There’s the slightest brush of warmth against Brendon’s hands, and when he opens his eyes Spencer is gently lacing their fingers together. “And then I would think about what you want. What you really want. Out of this job, out of Ryan, out of Dallon, hell, out of me and Jon. Baby, I don’t know where you came from, or where you’re going next, but I would bet money that it’s been a long minute since you did any kind of real self-reflection.”To his surprise, a small lump is building in Brendon’s throat, and when he tries to force it back down, it aches. He can only nod, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.“You look like shit,” Spencer says lovingly. “Go take a shower and then try to rest. I’ll bring you dinner later, okay?Brendon gives a watery smile. “Thanks, Spence.”He squeezes Spencer’s hand, reluctantly letting it go before heading for his room.“And bring back my goddamn shirt! I had better not see Pete wearing it come Monday!” Spencer cries.Brendon only laughs.---Bright Moonlight shining directly into his eyes nearly blinds Brendon when he wakes up. After his (very nice, long) shower, he had come to lay down for a minute and ended up dozing off. He’s not sure how long he’s been asleep; he got up when Spencer came to shake him awake for dinner, but even that was a blur and all he really remembers is stumbling back into bed after and crashing.He twists over, fumbling for his phone and clicking it on, squinting at the bright light. 2:39 a.m. And there’s a text from Patrick. “I also put your number in my phone. Hope you’re feeling better, make sure to drink lots of water. See you on the other side.” --- Brendon shifts and yawns, stretching out and blinking in surprise when his hands brush cool porcelain. He looks around, frowning slightly before clambering out of the bathtub and grabbing the counter to steady himself as he sways. When did he fall asleep here? Why did he fall asleep here? He twists around, glancing over his shoulder to see Dallon spread-eagle in the tub, his limbs hanging over the edge and his head tilted back as he snores quietly. His hair is an inky shock across his forehead and his lips are slightly parted. He looks beautiful. Brendon smiles, careful not to wake him as he gently opens the door and steps outside. The living room is quiet and dark; a few people are asleep, scattered around on the couches and floor. Brendon doesn’t recognize any of them. A hazy blue light comes from outside, and he looks over to see the pool shimmering beneath the stars. Still doing his best to stay silent, he tiptoes around the sleeping bodies to slip out into the backyard, bare feet scraping over the concrete as he makes his way over to the edge of the water. It glows an artificial aqua, the lights beneath it throwing swirls of pale blue across his body. Bending down to shove the legs of his pants up the best he can, he sits down and dips his feet into the lukewarm water. The only sound is that of crickets chirping, and he leans back on his hands, closing his eyes and smiling to himself. “You should be asleep.” Brendon blinks, turning to look behind him where Patrick is standing a few feet away, his shirt untucked and his hat tilted. “I woke up,” Brendon explains. Patrick laughs, the sound loud in the silence, though no one inside stirs. “I can see that. But what are you doing awake? Dallon will be scared if he thinks you’re missing.” “He’s still asleep,” Brendon promises, turning back to look at the water. He hears Patrick come beside him and out of the corner of his eye, sees the older boy sit down and dip his feet in the water too. “What are you doing awake?” He repeats, not unkindly. Brendon stays quiet for a moment, watching the reflection of the lights bounce off the surface of the water and play over his hands in his lap. He can’t remember why he woke up, but now honey-colored eyes full of anger stare him down in his head. “I think I really fucked up. Like, really bad.” “You mean before or after you puked all over me, you, and Dallon?” Patrick asks. Brendon can hear the smile in his voice. “Ryan hates me,” he whispers. Patrick sighs softly, and when Brendon glances over it’s as if he’s sort of deflated; his elbows rest on his knees and his hands cradle his chin as he watches the pool swish gently. “He doesn’t hate you. Just like Pete doesn’t hate me. But you wouldn’t know it the way they act, huh?” Brendon frowns. “Why would you think Pete hates you?” Patrick shrugs, and for a moment he looks more like a ghost with the shimmering lights casting strange shadows across his face. “The same reason you think Ryan hates you. The fighting, the fucking other people, the refusal to talk about it.” “I’m not mad that Ryan’s fuc—” “Yes you are,” Patrick says, though he doesn’t sound upset. Just sure of himself. And tired. “You can ask Dallon to do whatever he wants to you until you stop thinking about it, but it’s still true.” Brendon bites his lip. “If you’re mad that they’re…” he swallows. “Why don’t you say something?” Patrick laughs, but the sound is low and quiet and bitter. “What right do I have to say anything? It isn’t like I’ve told him how I feel. It’s the same as you, I’ve kept my mouth shut, but that means I have to keep keeping it shut, even when things don’t go the way I want them to.” “So why don’t you tell him?” Brendon murmurs. “I don’t know,” Patrick rubs at his eyes, palms mashing against his face. “I’ve tried. Or I’ve thought about trying. Pete’s just...I know you think he’s difficult, but you have no fucking idea. I promise, I know he’s an asshole, but you just really can’t imagine. He...he won’t let me help him. I don’t know if he thinks he can do it on his own, or if he just doesn’t want to get any better, but honestly the idea of being with him, of giving myself to him and hoping he’ll give himself to me back, and then losing him? It’s better to watch him fuck around with the entire goddamn city than think of that.” Brendon nods, resting his chin in his palms and looking back at the pool. He kicks his feet, listening to the soft splash of the water. “He scares the hell out of me,” he whispers. “The absolute hell, when he looks at me I feel like I’m going to suffocate right there on the spot. And my skin starts to tingle and my mouth gets all dry and my heart— my heart beats so fucking fast I feel like it’s just going to explode in my chest.” Patrick chuckles, shaking his head. “Sounds like bona fide true love to me, kiddo, sorry to tell you.” “I want to tell him, I really do.” It isn’t a lie; he’s been thinking about telling Ryan for ages, once he figured out that that’s what he was feeling all this time. “But I’m not brave. I’m a fucking coward. I’ve always been a coward, I run from my problems and don’t look back, and I just hope they’ll disappear one day, if I run long enough.” Something warm slides down his cheek and drips onto his hand. He blinks, surprised at the tears. “It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff,” Patrick breathes. Brendon turns, surprised to find that Patrick’s cheeks are glistening too. “You stand there, and you stare down at the emptiness, and part of you wants to jump just to see what’s down there, but part of you knows at least you’re safe if you stay up here. Miserable, maybe, but safe. You can’t get hurt if you never jump.” Patrick’s fists clench and his knuckles turn white, straining beneath his skin. He lifts his head to look at Brendon, eyes dark and serious. “But we have to jump.” Brendon stays quiet for a moment, staring. Finally, he speaks. “So, you had more than just that beer after all, huh?” Patrick blinks, eyes widening, and his lips part into a small ‘o’. And then he starts laughing. It’s loud and full, and he throws his head back after a moment, eyes crinkling shut. “Oh god, you’re a little like Pete after all. Shit, and here I was, being a total angsty shit, getting all dramatic and poetic, fuck, like I think I’m Pete!” Brendon grins, not quite sure why Patrick’s laughing, but glad for the sudden uplift. “Fuck, Brendon,” Patrick snorts, still grinning. He nods to himself, as if answering a question only he could hear. “We have to, though. We have to jump.” Brendon’s grin slides right down his face. “Jump? What, you mean tell them?” “Exactly,” Patrick nods. “We have to tell them. We can’t keep doing this, keep hiding and staying quiet and pretending that it’s the smart thing to do. It’s not, it’s the fucking weak thing to do, we’re better than that.” Brendon looks up at the sky and then back at Patrick. “Maybe you’re better than that,” he mumbles, looking around. “But, uh, I’m doing pretty alright with my, uh, my whole routine I’ve got going.” “You got drunk, asked Dallon to fuck you, threw up on yourself, and fell asleep in a bathtub,” Patrick says flatly. “You are doing far less than pretty alright.” Brendon considers. If he tells Ryan, at least it’ll be over with. Ryan will either reject him, and he can run off again to find some other place to get by, or Ryan will...well, it’s better to not get his hopes up. “Okay. Yeah, okay. I’ll tell him. We can tell them.” Patrick smiles. “It’ll be okay. We’re gonna jump, and we’re gonna be okay. And when it’s all over, I’ll see you on the other side, alright?” Brendon smiles too, despite himself. “Yeah, okay. See you on the other side.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Brendon yawns, eyes screwing shut and mouth opening so wide his jaw cracks. The Sunlight is warm on his skin and has been slowly but surely lulling him to sleep across the past few hours. He’s been in a drowsy haze ever since he came outside to lay next to the empty koi pond, one arm stretched out with his fingers resting in the lukewarm water and the other curled beneath his head. Originally, he had been planning on playing some music, but once he’d sat down, the Sun caressing his shoulders and the sweet air around him had teamed up to make his eyes heavy and his body lax. His guitar lies forgotten in the grass behind him.Rolling onto his back, he stretches and a shiver runs down his spine. He squints up at the sky, noting the lack of clouds and the bright, almost surreal shade of blue above him. A week ago, he would have given anything to have nothing to do except laze around and nap, but now he finds himself apathetic and bored with no chores or jobs to get done. Of course, a week ago he had never expected to wake up one morning with news that Pete was gone and no one knew when he would be coming back.Two days after the party, Brendon got out of bed to find Jon and Spencer in the kitchen, Spencer pacing back and forth and running his hands through his hair while Jon sat at the table and idly sipped at his coffee. Pete was gone and hadn’t told anyone but Alan, who had spread the news that morning along with the message, “Do whatever you want til I get back,” from the billionaire.Travie said that he would try to get ahold of Pete before his flight back to school—though he assured them he wasn’t worried—and had left without much more than that and some goodbye hugs. Brendon was surprised to find that he was sad to see him go despite having only known him a few days.Patrick was gone too, though no one saw him leave, and Brendon suspected that wherever Pete was, Patrick wasn’t close behind—if he hadn’t just left with him in the first place.So with Pete gone and no instructions left behind, Brendon and the rest of the staff had heeded his advice; Brendon hadn’t touched a duster in six days, Jon and Spencer hardly left the house at all, either watching bad reality TV shows on the couch or arguing over what to have for dinner, and it seemed everybody else was doing just about the same: nothing.And with nothing to do, suddenly there was a lot of free time for Brendon to think.Rubbing his eyes now, he sighs softly. He’s had plenty of time to think, and yet all he’s done so far with those thoughts is lounge around or sleep. Ryan has been like some kind of ghost; Brendon hasn’t actually seen him since the party, but there are traces of him in the gentle shut of his door just as Brendon is coming out into the living room, or the half-empty mug of tea sitting on the table, or the soft sigh just around the corner when Brendon gets bored and explores the mansion in the early mornings. It would seem like coincidence, that they just can’t catch each other at the right time, if Brendon didn’t know any better. But he does.Still, he doesn’t chase after Ryan; he still doesn’t know what he would say, what he should say, and it doesn’t seem like Pete is coming back any time soon, so he’s got time to figure things out.“You’re going to get Sunburned.”A shadow falls over Brendon’s face and he blinks, brow furrowing as he tries to make out who’s above him.“How long have you been laying out here?” Dallon asks.Brendon pushes up to sit, rolling his shoulders to work out a slight kink. “I dunno, couple hours?”Dallon smiles, shaking his head. “Have you eaten lunch?”“What time is it?” Brendon frowns, glancing around for his phone.“Close to three,” Dallon says, squatting down beside him and resting his elbows on his knees.Three? Brendon’s been out here since ten-thirty.“Ah, no. No, I haven’t had lunch yet,” he mumbles. “Don’t tell Spence.”Dallon rolls his eyes, though he’s still smiling. “I don’t know how you haven’t just shriveled up out here and withered away.”Brendon grins. “I’m like a cockroach; you can’t get rid of me with anything less than a nuclear bomb.”“Gross,” Dallon wrinkles his nose.“So, what brings you here?” Brendon asks, sitting back and leaning on his palms, lightly gripping the grass between his fingers. “We’re basically on vacation, don’t you have better things to do?”Dallon laughs quietly, nodding. “Yeah, I just came by to water the flowers; they don’t give two shits whether Pete gave us time off or not, and I figure when he comes back ‘You said to do whatever I wanted’ won’t be a valid excuse for a lawn full of dead plants.”Brendon snickers and nods. “Good point.”“Well, I guess I’ll see you later, then,” Dallon says, pushing back up and shoving his hands into his pockets before walking towards the gardens.Brendon blinks and scrambles up before he can stop himself. “Dallon? Hey, Dallon, wait.”Dallon turns, arching a brow and tilting his head. “Yeah?”“I—” Brendon swallows, feeling his cheeks flush. “I just—I wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. But especially the party, that was really fucked up of me to try and use you like that and I really am so sorry. I never—I never wanted you to, you know, get hurt or anything, and I know that sounds like a bad line out of a movie, but it’s true. I really care about you, and you’ve helped me out a whole lot, and you mean so much to me, so just...I’m sorry. And I’m also sorry it took me so long to say it.”Dallon stares for a long moment, straightening up and shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he looks at Brendon. The way the light catches in his eyes, turning the soft grey-blue even bluer, makes Brendon’s heart skip and he bites his lip, hard. After a moment, Dallon lifts one side of his mouth in a grin.“I know,” he says, nodding. “But thank you.”“Your—your feelings aren’t hurt or anything?” Brendon asks, taking a step forward. “You can be mad, really, I know I fucked up.”Dallon shakes his head. “I’m not mad, I saw it coming from a mile away. I knew the second Ryan walked in the door that night I carried you home what was happening.”“You did?” Brendon’s eyebrows lift up in surprise.“Oh yeah. You two had it written all over your faces,” Dallon snorts. “I think you’re the only ones who didn’t know, except maybe Pete. But no, I’m not mad, and my feelings aren’t hurt. I care about you too, and I really do want you to be happy, Bren, you deserve it.”Brendon fights back a smile, clasping his hands behind his back and toying with the hem of his shirt. “Thanks.”Dallon bites his lip, looking unsure for a moment. “And Bren, you know, if—if stuff with Ryan doesn’t work out the way you want it to...it’ll still be okay. You’ll be okay. I know you don’t think it, but you’re strong, and I believe in you.”Now it’s Brendon’s turn to stare, lips slightly parted and eyes wide. Dallon looks embarrassed, rubbing his shoe into the grass and looking anywhere but directly at Brendon.“Thank you,” Brendon murmurs after a moment, walking forward and wrapping his arms around Dallon’s middle before he knows what he’s doing.Dallon seems to relax around him, letting his arms fall over Brendon and hold him tight. “You’re welcome. I mean that, too. Whatever happens, I’ll be here for you, and it’ll all be okay.”Brendon nods, taking a deep breath before stepping back.“Guess I had better get to those flowers, then,” Dallon says, grinning sheepishly.“You don’t want a yard full of dead plants,” Brendon agrees.Dallon smiles and gives a small wave as he turns and heads back towards the garden. He stops after a moment, looking over his shoulder and smiling. “Oh, and Brendon? Nothing’s going to happen at all if you don’t ever talk to him. Just a thought.”---Brendon wanders the grounds for a little bit longer before he decides to head back home. He takes his time, following the little stone path that leads through a copse of orange trees to the back of the house, careful to step on each stone with one foot before hopping to the next. Once he gets closer, he hears quiet humming and glances up from the ground to see Jon kneeling down in the grass.Tilting his head, he carefully approaches and jumps off of the last stone before squatting in front of Jon.“I didn’t know you had a garden back here.”Jon doesn’t look up, but he smiles. “You would if you ever went anywhere besides Pete’s or the walk between his house and ours.”“I used to be in charge of the entire property grounds!” Brendon protests. “I’ve been all over this place!”Jon only laughs softly, shaking his head as he pats down some soil with a dirty gloved hand.It’s quiet for a long while except for Jon’s humming and the occasional sound of water sprinkling onto the plants. Finally, Brendon shifts to sit in the dirt.“So, enjoying your time off?” He tries, poking a finger into the ground and wiggling it in the cool soil.“It’s nice,” Jon nods. “Relaxing. Spence and I haven’t had this kind of time in a while. Are you?”Brendon opens his mouth to say that he is, but realizes the response is automatic; he’s not enjoying his time off, it’s been spent laying around and sleeping or brooding over Ryan.“I thought so,” Jon murmurs, gently lifting up a leaf to inspect its underside.Brendon sighs softly and scoops up a small handful of dirt, splaying his fingers and watching it spill through the gaps. “What do you think I should do?”“What do you think you should do?” Jon shoots back, still not looking up. He has a wide-brimmed hat on that Brendon’s never seen before, and little bits of Sunlight poke through the holes in the straw and rest on his face.“I…” Brendon frowns. No one’s asked him that yet. “I don’t know. Spencer says I need to talk to Ryan before things get any worse, and Dallon says no matter what it’s gonna be okay, and Patrick—”“That isn’t what I asked,” Jon says, not unkindly. “What everyone tells you doesn’t matter if you can’t use their advice to come to your own conclusions.”Brendon blinks, biting his lip and furrowing his brow. His own conclusions? He’s been spending all his time going over everything his friends said, repeating their words in his head like there might be some hidden meaning between them that will fix everything. Jon is right, though, that’s worth nothing if he isn’t trying to piece his own answer together in the end.He groans, resting his forehead in his hands. “But what if I pick the wrong answer?”“There is no wrong answer, Bren, that’s the thing. There’s only your answer, and you can’t get that from anyone but yourself.” Jon twists around to pick up a dented tin watering can.Brendon doesn’t say anything for a moment, and the air around them is silent. Jon doesn’t hum anymore, and Brendon watches as he carefully raises the watering can over a patch of leafy greens. The wind blows, ruffling his hair and threatening to knock off Jon’s hat. Still, he says nothing. A ladybug flutters over and lands on his hand, crawling across it for a moment before flitting off again.“I have to talk to him, don’t I?”“Do you?” Jon asks.“Yes,” Brendon says firmly, nodding. “I do. And I have to tell him everything. Patrick and Spencer were right—I’m right, nothing good can come from running from my problems. I’m done running.”Jon doesn’t say anything, but when Brendon pushes up to stand and brushes the legs of his pants off, he sets down the watering can. “Took you long enough to figure all that out,” he says, though Brendon can hear a smile in his voice.After a long pause, Brendon bites his lip. “Don’t you think it’s weird?”“That what’s weird?” Jon asks.“That we lived together for so long and never said a word to each other, and now, after only a few months you’re giving me romantic advice.” Brendon shrugs.Jon laughs softly. “I guess so. You ever think about what it’d be like if they hadn’t found you out on the lawn like they did?”Brendon nods. “Sure. But I’m glad they did.”“Me too, Bren,” Jon murmurs. “I like having you around.”Brendon blinks and feels his cheeks grow warm. “So, when are you gonna tell Spencer you’re in love with him?”As he turns and walks back towards the house, he notes that Jon says absolutely nothing. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Brendon can’t remember the last time he saw the Sun rise. As he sits outside, watching the light slowly push up through the indigo clouds and turn the sky a rosy shade of pink, he tries to recall the most recent moment he was able to just sit back and watch the day break. By the time the Sun has chosen a spot to rest in the sky above the horizon, he finds he can’t.He hasn’t slept at all. Instead, he spent his night lying in bed, tossing and turning while trying to think of just what to say to Ryan the next morning. There were a few attempts at getting rest, but none garnered any success. When he finally accepted defeat, it was four in the morning and a glance in the mirror offered bruise-like circles beneath his eyes and messy hair that stuck up in more than a few places. He had come outside to get some fresh air in hopes that it would help clear his head, but now the sky is lightening and the world around him is losing its shadows, and still, he has nothing to say for it.“Alright, Urie, it’s now or never,” he mumbles to himself, pushing up off the ground and dragging his hands down his face.Ryan will be getting up to do yoga soon, if he hasn’t already, and Brendon’s going to need some coffee to get through this. Or maybe a shot of whiskey.There’s a soft sigh behind him, and he whirls around to see a tall figure slumped against the doorway.“When did you wake up?” Ryan asks softly.“I didn’t sleep,” Brendon replies, blinking.Ryan looks as tired as he feels, his hair going in every direction and the shadow of stubble across his cheeks. There are circles beneath his eyes too.“Me neither,” he murmurs. “Want some coffee? I know you said you don’t do caffeine, but I figure given the circumstances...”Brendon nods, trying to ignore the way his heart is pounding in his chest; he feels slightly faint, like perhaps his body will simply give way at any moment, but he manages to follow Ryan back inside nonetheless.The kitchen is empty and dark, the dawn’s light having not quite reached their windows yet, so Brendon flicks on the overhead light as Ryan rummages in the cabinets for some mugs. He rubs at his eyes as he sits down, resting his chin on his folded arms atop the table.“Cream and sugar?” Ryan asks, not turning around as he fills the mugs and sets the coffee pot down.“Please,” Brendon yawns, closing his eyes for a moment.Ryan doesn’t reply and for a minute the only sound is that of clinking glass and the sandy shift of a spoon in sugar. When he doesn’t hear his mug being set before him after a while, Brendon opens his eyes again.Ryan is standing in front of the table with a cup in each hand, looking down at him. “Let’s go outside.”Brendon doesn’t point out that Ryan’s only wearing loose pajama pants—the sight of which does not help the faint feeling Brendon is fighting—and he himself is in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt; who’s going to see them? With Pete still gone, he hasn’t seen anyone awake before noon lately.He scoots his chair back and stands, stretching for a moment before taking the mug Ryan offers him in one outstretched hand. He cups his palms around it, blowing across the top gently and taking a sip. He’s surprised to find it’s sweet enough; nobody ever puts in enough sugar.Ryan turns and goes back to the door, quietly pulling it open and slipping outside while Brendon follows and gently tugs it shut. He trails after Ryan, wriggling his toes in the grass and half-heartedly wondering if he should have grabbed shoes. The coffee heats the ceramic between his hands and makes his fingertips burn just a little.They stop in front of a bench Brendon’s never seen before; apparently, he wasn’t as aware of the grounds as he thought. It’s made of thin, spiraling metal and sits in the middle of some large oaks that cast shade all around them. Ryan takes a seat and Brendon follows suit, wrapping his arms around his knees and leaning back.For a while, they don’t say anything; Ryan sips at his coffee and Brendon watches the Sun slowly climb higher in the sky, bringing light and warmth along with it. He only takes a couple of swallows of his drink, and when he’s done he sets it in the grass and turns to Ryan.“I think we should talk.”Ryan doesn’t look at him, he just takes another long draw out of his mug and gazes out onto the grass. When he lowers it, he nods. “I agree.”Brendon nods too, clasping his hands together.“Do you want to start?” Ryan asks quietly, resting his cup in his lap, long fingers curled loosely around it.Brendon bites his lip and nods again. “Sure. Yeah, sure,” he takes a deep breath. “Okay, I...I really like you. A lot, I like you a lot, and I don’t know if that’s weird to you or not, but I do. And I know shit has been weird between us lately, with—with the party and everything, and I just wanted to say that I don’t like that. I don’t like how you’ve been treating me, I don’t understand how you’ve been treating me, and I want to fix it. I want to fix things with you and me, maybe, if we can, but I also don’t want them to go back to the way they were because that was literal hell. Even before all that shit at Pete’s party, it was bad, and I don’t know why, don’t know if it was something I did or something you thought, I don’t know.”A butterfly flits over and lands on Ryan’s hand, crawling across it and gently twitching its wings. He doesn’t move, nor say anything when Brendon pauses, but he gives a small nod. After a moment, the butterfly takes off again and disappears into the trees.“I like you,” Brendon repeats softly, swallowing hard. “And I don’t like you and Pete together. Maybe that’s not my place—I mean I know that it’s not my place, but like, I don’t know, for a while I thought you liked me too. We were hanging out and talking, and it was so nice, but now I don’t know and everything is just so weird and shitty and I hate not talking to you. I hate you not talking to me. I hate feeling angry when I think about you, and I hate dreading the thought of seeing you because I don’t know what’s going to happen, what you’ll say, if you’ll say anything at all…” he sighs softly, shaking his head. “All of that sucks ass, Ryan, and I’m just—I’m done with that. I know that I fucked up too, and I shouldn’t have acted the way I did at the party, but shit, what the fuck? At first, I thought you were mad because, you know, I’m gay or whatever, but I know you’re fucking Pete so unless you’ve got some wild denial going through your head, I can’t figure out what I did that made you hate me. Like, I really liked hanging out with you before, and I thought you did too, so what the fuck happened?”Ryan doesn’t say anything for a long while. It’s all silence, and not even the wind blows to stir the leaves above them. Brendon stares down at his mug in the grass, a deep, dark blue like the color of a night sky, and he waits.“I’m from Las Vegas, did you know that?” Ryan asks.Brendon blinks and looks back up. “Uh, no?”Ryan nods. “I am. I lived with my dad there until I was eighteen. My mom walked out on us; took her shit, went out the door, and never looked back. And then my dad started drinking.”Brendon swallows hard. “I...I’m so sorry, that’s awful.”Ryan shakes his head. He’s still looking out across the lawn, but when Brendon looks at his hands, his knuckles have turned white from his tight grip on his cup. “I’m not telling you so you’ll feel bad for me; it’s been years, it’s over, I’m gone, whatever. But when I was there, it was absolute shit. He was never sober, and things were always my fault, and we were always fighting, and I swore that when I could, I’d do exactly what my mom did: leave, and never come back. And I did. I met Pete at a bar in Chicago while I was couch-hopping and we hit it off. A few months later, he offered me a job, and I’ve been here ever since. Spence followed me all the way out here too, even though he loved the hell out of his family. He said I was his family too, and I needed him right now more than they...well, anyways, that isn’t the point. The point is, all I could ever count on was me, Spencer, and the fact that Pete would never turn me away.”“Ryan, really, I’m so sorry, that’s terrible and I—” Brendon blinks as Ryan holds up a hand.“I promise this isn’t me trying to hold a pity party,” Ryan says, finally turning to Brendon and smiling slightly. His eyes shine, overbright. “I’m telling you this because I want you to understand why I acted the way I did. Why I was such an insufferable ass.”Brendon gives his own small smile and nods. “Okay.”“I didn’t trust anyone except Spencer. Not even Pete. Pete was just around to keep the bad thoughts at bay, and he knew that, and I knew that he felt the same about me. There’s never been any love in it for us, we just use each other for whatever we need and call it a day. And that’s okay, that works for us, and it worked for me, and I didn’t plan on ever needing anything different. But then you came along, and when I found you on the ground that day, you looked so...small. And I realized that Jon and Spencer and I had been looking out for each other, but no one had been looking out for you, and I kind of hated myself for that. You blew in from nowhere without a story to tell, obviously having been through some shit, and we should have taken you in the way we did each other. But we didn’t, and I’m sorry for that too. And then you ended up being so kind and caring and sweet—everything I’m not—and you didn’t make fun of me for my yoga, and you cared so hard about doing a good job for a shitty boss, you just had this light. And it blew me the fuck away, Bren, I swear to God. I have never felt that way about anyone; I wanted to protect you and watch you kick the world’s ass all at once, and be by your side while you did.” Ryan’s cheeks are pink now, but he doesn’t stop. “And I really didn’t know what to do with any of that because all I’ve known is Spence, who’s like my brother, and Pete, who’s...well, not the love of my life.”Ryan grimaces and Brendon holds back a laugh. He can’t help but imagine Pete and Ryan standing at an altar, clasping each other’s hands and vowing ‘until death do us part’. He’d pay anything to see Pete in that dress.“And then…” Ryan takes a breath, pushing a hand through the tangled mess that’s his hair at the moment. “Then I came home and Dallon was there, and I could see that you liked him, and I don’t know, I just kind of freaked out. I know that was childish, and irrational, and kind of insane, but I just kept thinking about how I hadn’t been able to protect you before, and now you’d gone and gotten into trouble again and I still hadn’t been able to watch out for you. Instead, some goofy-looking asshole—”Brendon frowns and arches a brow, and Ryan flushes, swallowing.“Sorry. I know he isn’t an asshole. But he swooped in and swept you off your feet and all I had done that day was swap handjobs with Pete and forget to eat lunch. It wasn’t you, Brendon, it was me, it was me hating myself for feeling like I wasn’t good enough, like I wasn’t doing enough—couldn’t do enough, but I wasn’t about to face that so I took it out on you. And I’m sorry, because I know that was wrong on so many levels and I should have just talked to you, and I had so many chances to talk to you, and I didn’t. And that was shitty, and I’m sorry.”Brendon nods, not saying anything for a moment. He glances down and notices Ryan’s hands are shaking; his mug has been abandoned on the grass next to Brendon’s, a bright red that shines in the light. He reaches out, taking one of Ryan’s hands in his and squeezing lightly.“I understand. Really, I do. My parents were...also shitty. They were ridiculously religious, and when they found out I was gay, they kicked me to the curb and that's all she wrote. My mom was regularly telling me I was going to Hell for this and that, and my dad couldn’t have cared less where I was or what happened to me. I got this job wanting to prove something to them, prove I could be someone that could take care of himself without anyone’s help, prove I was worth something. I know about running, Ryan, and wanting to forget,” Brendon sighs softly, looking down at their hands in his lap. “I just wish you could have told me. When you cut me off, I really did think it was because of me not because you were jealous of Dallon, and that really fucked me up. You were so nice to me, teaching me yoga and giving me advice, and I thought we were...building something, you know? And then faster than I could blink it was like I’d suddenly done some unspeakable thing to you, like you just hated the fact that I existed. I thought I’d finally found a place where I could be me, or at least me enough, and without warning, it felt like you wanted me to be anyone but me.” Brendon blinks as something warm brushes across his cheek.Ryan’s hand gently cradles his face, and he nods. “I’m sorry. I swear, I had no idea, but that’s no excuse nonetheless. I shouldn’t have treated you like that, and I’m sorry.”Brendon nods, smiling slightly and leaning into Ryan’s touch.“I really like you, too,” Ryan says after a moment, his cheeks flushing again as he drops his hand and looks away.Brendon smiles wide, scooting across the bench until his knee rests against Ryan’s. “You do?”There’s no answer from Ryan. Instead, he turns and takes Brendon’s face in both hands, cupping his cheeks and leaning forward to gently press their lips together. It’s soft and tender, like nothing Brendon’s ever felt before, and he gives the lightest of contented sighs as he presses forward. He reaches up to tangle his fingers in Ryan’s hair, pulling him closer, and he can feel the other man smile against his mouth.“Yeah,” Ryan whispers.Brendon pulls back, just far enough he can look up at Ryan and lift a brow. “I’m not gonna do this with you until we set some rules, though.”Ryan blinks, looking surprised. “Rules?”Brendon nods. “Rules. Number one, we communicate. We do not throw tantrums, and we do not sit in silence and stay pissy without talking to each other. We act like adults, and we communicate.”Ryan nods. “I can do that.”“Number two: we are exclusive. No more fucking Pete, especially as some kind of shitty revenge, and I won’t get drunk and try to get people to fuck me when I’m mad either.”Ryan’s lips twitch in an almost-smile, amused. “Alright.”“Number three: We go out and do stuff outside of work. We go to eat dinner that Spencer and Jon didn’t cook, we go to the movies, we live, and we don’t get so wrapped up here that it’s all we know.”“Sounds good and healthy,” Ryan agrees. “Anything else?”Brendon shakes his head and climbs up into Ryan’s lap, straddling him. He wraps his arms around Ryan’s neck, resting them over his shoulders and lightly tangling his fingers in his hair. “Not for the moment.”Ryan nods, resting his hands on Brendon’s hips and tugging him closer. Their lips barely touch, his breath ghosting over Brendon’s skin. “Then would you like to take this back inside?”Brendon grins, nosing against Ryan’s cheek. “I thought you’d never ask.”---“We’ve got to stay quiet,” Ryan breathes, voice hushed as he presses Brendon against the wall.Brendon nods, legs wrapped around Ryan’s waist. They’ve only gotten so far as the hallway, but already his shirt is gone and Ryan’s cheeks are flushed. “Don’t wanna wake Jon and Spencer.”“They’ll murder us,” Ryan agrees, kissing Brendon again, desperate and hard.Brendon shudders and suppresses a moan, pulling Ryan closer and rolling his hips down as best he can.Ryan’s grip on his hips tightens and then they’re stumbling back towards his room, narrowly avoiding slamming into the corner of a wall and knocking a framed painting to the floor. Ryan pushes his door open with his back, shutting it with his foot, and neatly deposits Brendon onto his bed.“You’ve got shit to do this, right?” Brendon asks, panting softly.Ryan blinks, but nods quickly and turns to start going through his nightstand drawer.While he does, Brendon takes a deep breath and smiles to himself, biting down on his bottom lip. He watches as Ryan frowns, tossing a crumpled up piece of paper over his shoulder and muttering about Spring cleaning.“Hard to believe you’re low on supplies as much as you get laid around here,” Brendon teases, pushing to sit up.Ryan rolls his eyes. “It’s Pete who usually has shit, but don’t worry, I swear I’ve got stuff.”Brendon nods, holding back a laugh. He can be patient; he’s waited months for this, after all, what’s a couple minutes more? Plus, Ryan is grumbling obscenities to himself as he throws this and that behind him, so it isn’t like he doesn't have entertainment.“Got it!” Ryan cries triumphantly after a few more minutes, lifting his arm to brandish a shiny silver packet and a bottle of lube.Brendon claps softly, lying back. “Bravo!”“Oh shut up,” Ryan says, rolling his eyes and crawling back onto the bed. He leans back down, kissing Brendon once more and running a hand down his front.“It’s not expired, is it?” Brendon asks, lips twisting into a grin.Ryan freezes and sits back up, scrambling for the condom and examining it. He breathes a sigh of relief, shaking his head.Brendon nods and pulls him right back down, pressing their lips together and raking his nails lightly down Ryan’s back, eliciting a shudder and a low moan. He lifts his hips as Ryan’s hands trail down to tug at his boxers, sliding them off and tossing them into a corner. Immediately his hands grab eagerly at Ryan’s pants, practically ripping them off and quite nearly causing both of them to tumble off the bed when Ryan can’t get his right foot out of one leg-hole.“Someone’s excited,” Ryan murmurs, skating a hand across Brendon’s chest and resting it on the side of his neck.Brendon shivers and swallows, nodding. “Well, it’s not like I get fucked every day whenever I like.”Ryan snorts and rolls his eyes. “Trust me, it’s not as satisfying as you seem to think it is.”“Don’t tell Pete that or you’ll be out of a job,” Brendon teases, reaching one hand up to push through Ryan’s hair, tugging lightly.“I just don’t think that will be a problem anymore,” Ryan breathes, leaning down to ghost his lips across Brendon’s jaw, gently nipping where his neck meets his shoulder.Brendon gives a soft, contented sigh and tilts his head back. He drapes his arms across Ryan’s shoulders, letting his eyes fall shut and smiling. It’s as if a weight has been lifted up off his chest and tossed far into the ocean where it can never reach him again; he can breathe.Ryan’s mouth trails down his throat, dropping kisses all across Brendon’s skin and stopping to lightly suck on the point where his pulse throbs the hardest. Brendon shivers, arching up into the sensation. He can feel Ryan grin against his neck and he shifts, lacing his fingers in the other man’s hair and pulling just slightly.Ryan lifts his head, arching a brow.“Lie down,” Brendon murmurs.Ryan laughs. “Now you’re in charge?”Brendon just smiles and slides out from under Ryan, situating himself so that he’s between Ryan’s legs and resting on his elbows. He dips down, swiping his tongue across the leaking head of Ryan’s cock and bites back his own grin when Ryan gasps and jerks his hips.“You’re gonna…?”“If you want me to,” Brendon hums, wrapping his fingers around Ryan and stroking him slowly.Ryan nods quickly. “Yes, fuck, please, yes.”Brendon nods and dips his head back down, licking up the sensitive underside before skillfully swallowing him down.Ryan groans now, low and deep in his chest, and he tosses his head back while gripping a good fistful of Brendon’s hair, though not hard enough to hurt.Brendon just watches him for a moment, and then he begins bobbing his head, taking Ryan down a little further each time until his nose brushes a patch of coarse, dark hair. He swirls his tongue, humming softly, and then chokes down a smug laugh when Ryan jerks up again and gives an uncharacteristically high-pitched whine of pleasure. As soon as he lifts his head to start again, Ryan yanks on his hair, dragging him up and off.“Stop, you gotta stop or I’m gonna—” Ryan swallows and shakes his head. “Shit, I dreamt about that, but you really are beyond imagination.”Brendon beams proudly. “Thank you.”Ryan rolls his eyes and pushes back up, hovering over Brendon before deftly flipping him over onto his back.Brendon blinks, and his eyes grow wide, lips parted in surprise. Before he can say anything, though, Ryan’s mouth is back on his and he reaches up to drag him down until they’re pressed flush together. He’s leaking precome across his belly now, achingly hard, and his kisses become a little needier.Ryan slides one hand down his front and Brendon spreads his legs, opening his eyes again to find Ryan watching him carefully.“You’re sure this is okay?” Ryan asks. “If this is too fast, we can stop.”Brendon shakes his head. “If you stop now, so help me God.”Ryan laughs, resting his forehead against Brendon’s for a moment. “Well, if you insist.”He sits up, grabbing the bottle of lube and uncapping it before spreading a generous amount of the clear substance across his fingers. His skin is cool, and Brendon suppresses a shiver as he slips one digit in.“Good?” Ryan asks.Brendon nods. “I’m not going to break; it’s not like I don’t do this to myself, you know.”Ryan blinks, eyes widening a fraction, and Brendon has to bite back a laugh at his expression.“Alright there?”Ryan nods, cheeks flushing. “Yeah—yeah, I’m—I just didn’t—are you good for another?”Brendon can’t help the laughter that bursts out of him, loud and full. He quickly throws an arm over his face to try and stifle the noise, but his whole body shakes with mirth and he has to look away from Ryan to make it stop.“What?” Ryan demands, his face only growing redder.Brendon shakes his head, taking a deep breath. “Nothing, nothing, I’m sorry. It’s just, you don’t…?"“Of course I do,” Ryan mutters, glancing down and swiftly sliding another finger in, twisting them. “I mean, not that specifically, I just didn’t think—”“That I did?” Brendon grins, lifting one eyebrow.“Well, it’s not like I spent all my time imagining you doing shit like that, you know!” Ryan huffs.Brendon just snorts and giggles to himself. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”“M’not embarrassed,” Ryan mutters, scissoring his fingers and resting his free hand on Brendon’s hip.Brendon reaches up, resting his hand over Ryan’s. He doesn’t say anything else about it, but his lips still twitch and he has to bite down on his bottom one to keep quiet. He fails, though, when Ryan twists his fingers just right and brushes against a spot that makes Brendon jerk and gasp.Ryan smirks, glancing up and repeating the action. “Like that?”Brendon reaches down to lightly clench his fists in the sheets and nods.“Another?” Ryan asks.Brendon nods again, spreading his legs just a little wider. His breath is coming just a little faster now, and he swallows hard, watching Ryan.Ryan says nothing, but he does push in a third finger and Brendon moans softly.“Good boy,” Ryan murmurs, thumb grazing over Brendon’s hip.Brendon shivers at the words, arching up. If he’s already getting this wound up with just a few fingers, he’s not sure how he’ll last when they’re actually fucking. With Ryan looking at him like that, though, he’s fairly certain he doesn’t stand a goddamn chance.Ryan grins, curling his fingers and watching Brendon as he carefully pushes them in and out. “Good?”Brendon groans, letting his head fall back. “Yeah, fuck, good.”“One more, or are you ready?”Brendon waves a hand, resting his arm over his forehead. “Ready, I’m ready, come on.”Ryan pushes his fingers in until his knuckles brush against Brendon’s ass before he pulls them all the way out, reaching for the condom.Brendon can’t help but whine at the newfound empty feeling, wriggling and shifting to frown over at Ryan, pushing his bottom lip out just slightly.“Give me a minute,” Ryan laughs, tearing the silver packet open and reaching over to rub Brendon’s thigh. “Be patient.”“I am not patient,” Brendon says flatly, though he lies back down and watches Ryan slide the condom on and pour a little more lube on his fingers before stroking himself.“So I see,” Ryan mutters, moving so he’s hovering over Brendon.He gently pushes Brendon’s thighs a little further apart, lifting one in his hand before pressing in.Brendon hisses, hands flying up to claw at Ryan’s shoulders, nails digging in. It’s not painful, exactly, but it is a lot and he takes a shuddery breath, pulling Ryan down so he can mash his face into the crook of his neck.“Are you alright?” Ryan asks quietly, stilling halfway in.His free hand comes up to pet Brendon’s hair, gently smoothing it.Brendon nods. “I’m okay, you can move.”He feels Ryan nod, and then there’s a hand on his cock, sliding smoothly up and down and he moans.Ryan pushes the rest of the way in, slow, but steady. He gives a soft groan as he bottoms out, body tensing beneath Brendon’s hands as a shudder ripples beneath his skin. There’s quiet for a moment, and all Brendon can hear is the sound of their breathing, short and sharp and irregular. After a minute, Ryan rocks his hips and Brendon shudders, pressing his lips against the hollow of Ryan’s throat and panting softly.“Fucking hell,” Ryan whispers, thrusting in a little harder.Brendon jerks and moans again, nodding. “Fucking hell.”“You’re good?” Ryan mumbles, moving his hands to grip Brendon’s hips as he rocks his own, building a careful rhythm.“So good,” Brendon breathes, shifting so he can wrap his legs around Ryan’s waist.Ryan nods and snaps his hips forward, and then they both moan, loud, and the sounds echoes through the room.“Hope Spence and Jon are heavy sleepers,” Brendon mumbles.Ryan doesn’t answer, just slams right in, hard enough to make the entire bed rock against the wall, and Brendon yelps. Ryan’s hand immediately comes up to clap over his mouth and his movements all but stop.“Okay?” He asks, furrowing his brow.Brendon quickly nods, giving a soft, muffled whine.Ryan nods and moves his hand back to Brendon’s hip, squeezing, before he starts back up. They stay quiet for a moment, the only sound that of skin slapping skin and their soft, breathy pants. Ryan noses against Brendon’s cheek, planting a kiss on the sweat-damp skin there. The next thrust hits Brendon’s spot dead-on and he yelps, pleasure running through him like electricity sparking in his veins.“Close! Fuck, Ryan, I’m close, I’m gonna—close,” Brendon whines.Ryan reaches up and cards a hand through his hair, grinning. “Good, me too.”Brendon’s own hand comes up to clasp Ryan’s wrist and he bites his lip, smiling when Ryan laces their fingers together. He gets in three more sharp thrusts before Brendon is spilling over, giving a long, low groan as warmth washes over him. It’s not a minute later that Ryan finishes too, his hips stuttering and his head falling forward to rest on Brendon’s shoulder.It becomes absolutely silent, and Brendon notes that he can hear rather than feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears.After a minute, Ryan rolls over and pulls out, tying off the condom and tossing it into the trashcan by his nightstand before flopping onto his back and staring up at the ceiling.Brendon sighs softly, content, and a lazy smile spreads over his lips as he lets his eyes fall half-shut. “That was really good.”“Yeah,” Ryan murmurs, nodding. “Really good.”They don’t talk after that, but Ryan’s hand finds its way to Brendon’s and their fingers lace together again between them. Within minutes, Ryan is snoring, but Brendon is still far too wired to even think about falling asleep.Instead, he takes the opportunity to look around Ryan’s room. There are posters of movies Brendon’s never heard of along with abstract paintings that rest on the wall, and there’s a shelf filled to the brim with books that practically overflow onto the floor. His closet door hangs open and holds an array of clothing from what looks like a bright red vest covered in roses to a hanger bursting with colorful scarves Brendon’s never seen grace Ryan’s neck. Looking around, it makes him realizes how bare his own space is; walking into Ryan’s room, you know someone lives here. Brendon’s is as good as a motel room people rent for a few days when they’re passing through town. It’s only distinguishing characteristics are his guitar and messy sheets in the morning. Sure, he didn’t come with much from his parents' house, but Ryan’s made a place for himself here—a real home. All Brendon’s done is survive.Frowning at the thought, he rolls over and presses into Ryan’s side, closing his eyes. Maybe he could do with some sleep after all.---When he wakes, the early afternoon Sun is filtering through Ryan’s curtains and resting warmly on Brendon’s skin. He blinks slowly as he comes to, looking around and breathing in deeply. He can’t remember the last time he woke up like this, without any kind of worry or stress. It’s the kind of waking up that takes a long while before you’re really a part of yourself again; slow and syrupy, like honey dripping, and he relishes in the feeling.“How do you feel?” Ryan asks. His voice is rough with sleep and Brendon finds himself wanting to wake to that sound every morning.“Good,” Brendon murmurs, turning onto his side and curling into Ryan’s open arms.“Good?” Ryan smiles, looking still half-asleep.“Really good,” Brendon says softly, smiling too.“Good.” Ryan stretches and inhales deeply, his chest rising and falling against Brendon’s cheek.It’s quiet. There are no profanities being screeched from the T.V. Real-Housewives-style, and no banging of pots and pans in the kitchen. It’s probably the quietest Brendon’s ever heard the house, and while once it may have been unnerving, right now it’s only peaceful.He rests a hand over Ryan’s chest, drumming his fingers over the skin to the rhythm of his heartbeat. He sighs contentedly when Ryan’s hand comes up to brush along his shoulder, rubbing up and down slowly.After a moment, he looks up.“What is it?” Ryan asks. His eyes are shut, his breathing slow and steady. Brendon doesn’t ask how he knew he was being looked at.“Are you going to stay here?”Ryan blinks, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks and he shifts to glance down at Brendon. “What do you mean?”Brendon bites his lip, pressing in a little closer. “I mean are you going to stay here? Are you going to keep working here now that...I mean, if you still want, that is—I just mean—”“Do I still want to work for Pete and live here with you and Spence and Jon now that Pete and I won’t be sleeping together?” Ryan arches a brow.Brendon nods, pressing his face into Ryan’s neck in hopes of hiding his warm cheeks. “If that’s what you still want to do.”“You think I’d just fuck you and run on back to Pete?” Ryan asks. He doesn’t sound upset, or even offended, mostly just curious.Brendon shakes his head, but then shrugs. “I guess I don’t know.”Ryan’s hand comes up to tilt Brendon’s face towards his. “I like you. I meant what I said before, I like you, a lot, and I want to be with you. Pete isn’t...we knew it wasn’t going to be forever. And something tells me when he gets back, he was planning on telling me that too.”“You think?” Brendon asks, tugging at his inner cheek with his teeth.“Well, I’d bet money that Patrick didn’t just fly back home without saying goodbye, and I saw him packing at about three in the morning the day before Pete left, so yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s got other ideas these days,” Ryan smirks.Brendon nods, not mentioning that he also would bet money that when Pete comes back, it’ll be on the arm of a much happier Patrick.“And even if he wasn’t desperately in love with Patrick and still wanted to fuck around, that just isn’t what I want anymore,” Ryan says softly, reaching up to run his fingers through Brendon’s hair.Brendon smiles, smoothing his fingers over Ryan’s collarbone. It’s the safest he’s felt in ages, at the very least since he left his parents’ house, but probably even before that. Satisfaction rests in his bones like a heavy breath finally being let out, falling past his lips and out into the air. Lying here with Ryan isn’t quite like coming home, but instead is as if he’s making a new home to come to; it’s new and fresh, and full of possibilities, but warm all the same.“What happened?” Ryan asks quietly, his hand still combing through Brendon’s hair.“Happened? What do you mean?” Brendon murmurs.“With your parents. I know you said that they made you leave, but what happened?”Brendon frowns, stiffening. “What’s there to tell? They found out I wasn’t straight and the next day what little shit I had was packed and I was out the door.”Ryan doesn’t say anything, but Brendon knows he’s listening from the way his fingers start to lightly scratch at his scalp.“I was dating a boy in high school,” he says finally. “And I kept it from them for a long time because I was scared; I grew up in a strictly religious household where anything less than absolute perfection was a one-way ticket to Hell. I think...I think they really believed that they were doing what was best for us, my siblings and I, by raising us that way, but all they really succeeded in doing was alienating us. Maybe they thought we’d forgive them when we all met up in Heaven one day, I don’t know. But nonetheless, I’m the youngest, so I was left alone there for a good couple of years, and I learned fast.”Deleting every text he received before his parents could read them, only talking on the phone when he was out or home alone so no one would overhear, taking the window by the kitchen when he was sneaking out because it was the quietest one and therefore least likely to wake his father.“And when I started dating this guy, I told him everything right off the bat so he knew what he was getting into. We couldn’t do much in public, couldn’t go on dates like out to the movies or anything, and when he came over we were strictly just friends. And he was so sweet, too, he went along with everything and honestly, he deserved better than that,” Brendon sighs, shaking his head. “And then one night, I snuck out to go to a party that his friend was throwing, and we got really drunk. We were fucking around, ended up in one of the back rooms, and we almost had sex, but then the cops got called so we all ran for it and I ended up back home around two or three. I was pretty sure I’d gotten away with it, though, because no police showed up at my door and it’s not like my parents would ever suspect I was at that party otherwise.”Ryan nods, and now his fingers twirl around loose strands of Brendon’s hair. Still, he says nothing.“But then that morning, my mom came in and woke me up, and she was shouting and screaming and I was still half-asleep so I didn’t know what was going on, but I figured it out pretty fast; someone was taking Polaroids of everyone at the party and had gotten a shot of my boyfriend and I kissing on the couch. One of her church friends had seen it and taken it from her daughter’s friend, and brought it to my mom. She kept asking ‘What is this, what is this?’ like I was going to give her any other answer than the one she held in her hand. I tried to, too, I tried to think of anything, but I couldn’t; I could only sit there in my bed, staring, watching her wave that damn picture in the air like it was on fire. I’m not sure when she told my dad, but by noon that next day I had my stuff and had called my sister to come pick me up.”Ryan’s hand isn’t moving anymore, and his muscles feel tense beneath Brendon. His voice is tight when he speaks. “Where did you go?”“I stayed with my sister for a few weeks, but I didn’t want to put more on her than I already had, so I started looking for a job as soon as possible. I got my own shitty little place that I stayed in for a while, and then I found Pete’s ad so I looked into that, and that’s how I got here. Been running ever since,” he laughs, albeit a little strained.“I’m sorry,” Ryan whispers, drawing Brendon up close to him and holding him tight. He places a soft kiss to Brendon’s temple. “I’m so sorry.”“It’s okay,” Brendon whispers back.“No, it isn’t,” Ryan murmurs. “It’s not, but it will be. We’ll make it better, you and me. You don’t have to run anymore.”Brendon smiles and nods, reaching up to skate his finger across Ryan’s bottom lip. “Okay.”Ryan opens his mouth, but then closes it and frowns, tilting his head. “Do you hear that?”Brendon blinks, sitting up and tilting his too. “Is that...music?”Far off, what sounds like The Boys Are Back In Town can be heard blasting from somewhere.“What in the goddamn hell…?” Ryan mutters, pushing up and grabbing a pair of jeans from the floor, tugging them on.Brendon follows suit, standing and pulling on his boxers.They go out the door and to the front yard to find a long black limo parked in the driveway. From what looks like a very old boombox, music is blaring atop the hood that none other than Pete himself lies sprawled across, grinning.“Well, well, well!” He calls, waving. “Look who’s come to see my bombastic return!”“Oh Jesus-fucking-Christ,” Ryan groans, shaking his head.The back door opens and Patrick comes stumbling out, covering his ears with both hands. “Okay, alright! I let you do it, now turn that shit off before someone calls the cops on us!”Pete rolls his eyes, glancing over his shoulder. “Pattycakes, if no one’s ever called the cops on us for the raging parties I throw on the regular, no one’s going to for this.”“Welcome back!” Brendon calls, waving to Patrick as Pete begins fiddling with the radio to turn it off. Evidently, it’s a struggle though, because eventually he just smacks the top of it and everything goes silent.“I have returned!” Pete announces, looking around and frowning. “Where is everyone?”“Probably on vacation, dumbass, you told them they could do whatever they wanted,” Patrick says flatly, crossing his arms.Pete blinks. “Oh, right. Well, call them all back, we’re gonna have to do this over.”“The hell we are,” Patrick snorts. “I think the fuck not, come on, help me grab your shit so we can go inside.”Pete whines, kicking his feet, but slides off the hood of the limo and goes to take some suitcases from Patrick. “You can come too,” he says to Brendon and Ryan. “We have some stuff to tell you.”“Stuff?” Brendon whispers, turning to Ryan.Ryan shrugs, though he looks wary.They follow Pete and Patrick inside where they drop their things in one of the living rooms and plant themselves on the couch. Brendon leans against Ryan, waiting.Pete whistles, long and low. “Oooh, I see what happened while I was gone.”Brendon blinks. “You do?”Pete nods. “You two finally did it!”“Finally?” Ryan arches a brow.“Well, I’ve been trying to set you guys up since Ryan came and bitched to me about your yardwork fiasco, Brendon!” Pete says, clapping his hands together. “It’s about fucking time!”“You what,” Ryan says flatly.Brendon reaches over to take his hand, squeezing lightly.Patrick sighs, shaking his head. “Pete, not now. We just got home. Don’t you want to tell them your news?”Pete wiggles his eyebrows towards Brendon and Ryan, grinning, but nods. “Yeah, okay. So Patrick and I went on holiday; I know my note was vague, and I’m sure you were all very worried, but everything is okay. We talked things out, and things are gonna change around here.”‘Worried’ is not exactly the word that Brendon would use to describe the staff’s feelings towards Pete being gone, but he nods anyway.“Patrick and I are in love,” Pete says simply.Patrick groans, dropping his head in his hands. “Why the hell are you leading with that?”“We are in love,” Pete ignores him. “And Patrick is going to be living here with us now; that is, Hemmy and I, of course, not with you.”“Pete needs a fucking babysitter and it seems like I’m the only one capable of the job,” Patrick interrupts, running his hands down his face.“And we are in love,” Pete adds, looking at Patrick meaningfully and nudging him with his knee.“And...we’re in love,” Patrick sighs. “God help me.”Pete nods, looking pleased. “So, Patrick was running some ideas by me and they were pretty good ones, so we wanted to know what you thought about them.”“Ideas?” Ryan asks, looking skeptical.Patrick smiles just slightly. “My ideas. Not his.”“Regardless,” Pete huffs.“Well, we are both aware that as of late, operations around here have been...less than satisfactory,” Patrick says, resting his hands on his knees. “And we want to change that, so first off, Pete is going to be a little less...uninvolved.”Pete blinks and turns. “I was not—”“I’m going to help him run things around here. He’s going to be working on more big picture stuff like image and creating a brand for himself, while I’m going to work more with the staff around here and jobs and hiring and the like,” Patrick explains. “He won’t be spending all day playing video games in his room, or drinking each night 'til he gets sick, or throwing ‘ragers’ every other weekend where the whole city is invited.”Pete nods, and Brendon is surprised to see he looks entirely unbothered by the prospect.“Not good for my head,” he explains, unashamed.“Not good for your head,” Patrick agrees. “And Ryan, since you’ve been here the longest, we were hoping that maybe you could be like, my right-hand? I don’t know too much about the goings on around here, and Pete sure as hell doesn’t, so I could really use your help. I’m thinking about looking into some investment opportunities while Pete starts working on his stuff so he can, eventually, be entirely self-sufficient. Maybe you could help me around the grounds while I’m checking into that?”Pete beams. “Think of it as a promotion!”Ryan blinks. “Really?”“If you want to,” Patrick nods.“Yeah, absolutely,” Ryan says, leaning back and smiling. “Sure.”“And Brendon, we don’t think you should be cleaning anymore,” Patrick says.Brendon opens his mouth, but Pete raises a hand. “It’s not that you’re bad at it, and I know you love the uniform—”“We want you in charge of employee satisfaction,” Patrick says, giving a sidelong glance at Pete and shaking his head.“Like HR?” Brendon tilts his head.Patrick nods. “Sure, something like that. Really we’d just want you to go around and check on how happy everyone is, if they need anything, that sort of stuff. And you can wear whatever you want.”Brendon grins wide, his smile threatening to split his face right in half. “I can do that.”“Good, then it’s all settled!” Pete says, clapping his hands and standing. “Once everyone is back, I can make an announcement and we’ll go from there!”Patrick stands too, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We still need to get the details ironed out before we make any ‘announcements’, Pete.”Pete only waves a hand, though, and walks off towards the stairs.“Come by tomorrow and we can talk more,” Patrick says, turning to give an exasperated smile to Brendon and Ryan.“See you then,” Brendon laughs. “Good luck.”“He’s gonna need it,” Ryan mutters as Patrick jogs after Pete, crying out that he’d better not be calling people for a fucking party the day they get back.“Yeah,” Brendon nods, grinning. “He is.”---Brendon and Ryan walk back to the house with their fingers laced and their hands swinging lightly back and forth. Brendon is humming a little melody he’s been working on to himself, and Ryan sighs happily.“This is good.”Brendon looks up, nodding. “Yeah, I’m really excited about my new job. I think I could do some actual good around here.”“Me too,” Ryan murmurs, smiling. “It’ll be good for you.”The Sun overhead is bright and hot, much like the day Brendon passed out on the lawn those many months ago. He looks up, squinting, before nodding to himself. “This is good.”“Maybe Spence and Jon are up by now and will be making breakfast,” Ryan says, stopping to pull out his key to unlock the door.“It’s past noon, it’ll be lunch by now,” Brendon snorts.Ryan shrugs, stepping inside and waiting for Brendon to follow before he shuts the door. The sound of breathy moans fills the air for a moment before everything goes silent and Spencer’s head pops up from over on the couch. The moment he sees Brendon and Ryan, his eyes widen and his jaw drops, surprise flooding his features.Brendon blinks and his eyes go wide too. “Spence, you weren’t—?”Jon’s head pops up beside him, cheeks flushed and lips parted. “Oh. Oh shit. Hello.”“Oh my god,” Brendon breathes, hands coming up to cover his mouth as a high-pitched giggle forces its way out of his mouth.“I fucking knew it,” Ryan hisses triumphantly, pumping a fist in the air.Spencer groans, dragging a hand down his face and shaking his head. “Oh fuck me.”Ryan smirks, throwing an arm around Brendon’s shoulder and snorting. “I think someone already did.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Two Years Later Brendon takes a deep breath in and smiles wide; the air smells clean and sweet, of flowers and Sunshine and freshly mowed grass. It’s invigorating, and as he looks around, his smile only spreads wider. Out beyond the open door, Patrick stands beneath a carved wooden arch that has every kind of flower you could think of woven in its gaps. His light grey tuxedo only makes the colors of the petals that much more brilliant, and his square black glasses pop smartly against the pale fabric. A long white strip of cloth runs from the doorway to the edge of the arch, glass jars with tiny candles in them still unlit lining its edges. An array of pristine white folding chairs lie on either side of the aisle, and flowers decorate them as well. The grass is a bright green, making the white furniture almost glow, and the sky above is a pure, clear blue. It’s a beautiful day to get married.“You look gorgeous,” Ryan murmurs, his voice soft.Brendon whirls around, crossing his arms and huffing. “You aren’t supposed to see me yet! Not until it’s time!”Ryan rolls his eyes, though he smiles and laughs quietly. “I don’t think that applies to us, love.”“You are totally gonna get bad luck all over everything,” Brendon whines, pushing out his bottom lip. He reaches forward, though, and toys with Ryan’s bowtie, which has gone crooked.“Let’s fucking hope not,” Ryan says, lifting his chin just slightly. “Spence would kick my ass.”Brendon shakes his head, sighing. “Well, it’s too late now, you’ve gone and jinxed it all. Whatever happens is on you, mister.”“I suppose I’m willing to take that chance, all things considered,” Ryan grins, leaning down to press his lips against Brendon’s.Brendon grins too, wrapping his arms around Ryan’s neck and tugging him closer, pushing up onto his tiptoes.“Save it for the ceremony, you two,” Pete snorts. “Or, well, I guess for the reception.”“Is everything ready, then?” Brendon asks, pulling back.Pete nods. “All that’s left is to get the guests in their seats and everyone else down that goddamned aisle to Patrick.”Ryan reaches down, lacing his fingers with Brendon’s and squeezing lightly. “Then let’s get everyone down that goddamned aisle.”---Soft music begins to play from the band off in the corner, and Brendon takes his first step down the aisle as everyone turns in their chairs to look at him. The flowers look even brighter and more resplendent from here, almost like a rainbow covering Patrick in sweet-smelling petals as he watches from his place at the altar. There are petals down the aisle now, too, soft white daisies that flutter with each step he takes. He turns to look at Ryan, a smile breaking across his features when his boyfriend winks and then tugs him along.“We better not take our time or Spence will have our heads,” he whispers, just loud enough for Brendon to hear.Brendon nods, grinning, and gently squeezes Ryan’s arm in the light hold he has. They make their way slowly but steadily to Patrick, separating once they reach him and going to stand opposite one another, hands folded behind their backs. It makes Brendon’s chest ache, how beautiful Ryan looks in his dark turquoise tuxedo with his hair slicked back, little pieces falling over his forehead, and a white rose in his lapel. He nearly stops breathing at the sight alone, but then the music changes and everyone stands, and his focus is shifted to the far side of the aisle where Jon has stepped out and is making his way towards them. He turns over his shoulder to see Spencer coming from the opposite side, and immediately tears burn at his eyes.They both absolutely glow.Jon has his scruff trimmed and neat, and his is hair combed back away from his face. His smile is so wide it makes Brendon’s face hurt just by looking at it. His hands are clenched by his side as he obviously forces himself to go slowly, keeping in time with the music as he walks towards the center.Spencer’s beard has also been trimmed and his hair is slicked back much like Ryan’s, though less messy. His lips are just slightly twisted in a grin, and for all appearances, he is the epitome of control. Brendon can tell it’s taking every ounce of effort he possesses not to rush to that altar and drag Jon with him.When they finally meet, Patrick takes a breath and nods. “Be seated.”The guests take their seats as Jon and Spencer join hands, and Brendon offers a reassuring smile to them both before looking back at Patrick.“We are gathered here today,” Patrick begins. “To witness this display of love and commitment between the two men before us. They have honored us in deciding to share this moment of their lives in which they will be joined, and as such shall live the rest of their lives together as two parts that make a glorious and stronger whole. If any person here can give solid reason they should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”No one does, though Brendon half expects Pete to jump up and say something just to cause a scene. However, the billionaire stays seated in the front row, smiling wide and proud up at Patrick with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes and a simple silver band gleaming on his left hand. Perhaps his husband had words with him before the ceremony, or perhaps he’s grown enough to keep his mouth shut. Brendon would bet a few threats from Patrick were involved, though, if it came down to it.“I believe you have some words for each other?” Patrick says softly, turning to Jon and Spencer.Spencer nods and takes a deep breath. “Jon. You are the part of me I never knew I needed. Truly, I never believed that a complete lack of order and infuriating easiness in the face of whatever challenge may come was something that would bring me serenity. The thought of waking up to someone whose smile looks the way a fresh Summer breeze running through your hair feels was never something that even crossed my mind to desire. But now that I’ve done it, now that I have that, I know...I know I could live without it. Without you. But holy shit, Jon, I hope that you never make me. I love you so much, it just shakes me to the core thinking about it. So congratulations, you’ve gone and made me soft, you son of a bitch.”Jon gives a choked sort of laugh, a few tears slowly sliding down his cheeks as he smiles. It takes a minute for him to catch his breath and steady himself, but eventually, he nods and swallows, squeezing Spencer’s hands. “Spence, you’re the love of my life. My one and only, the air I breathe, the dreams I dream, and every other cliche those bad eighties love songs that you hate hold. I love how passionate you are, how you’ll stand up for what you believe in and refuse to apologize for it. I love how you’ll fight for the things you care about and take every bruise and scrape you have to just to keep them safe. I love that I’m one of those things, and I love that you’ll let me fight right by you. That’s all I wanna do, Spence, for the rest of my life: stand by your side and watch you take the world by storm. I know you’re gonna, one day, and I can’t wait to see it. I guess what I’m saying, when it comes down to it, is that I’m ready to spend the rest of my life listening to Britney Spears until my ears bleed.”Spencer snorts, but his eyes are shining bright and Brendon can see him shaking across from Jon.“Well, I think that about settles it,” Patrick murmurs. “The rings?"Brendon grins and dips his hand into his pocket, procuring a smooth band of white gold and handing it to Jon as Ryan does the same for Spencer.As Spencer slides the golden ring onto Jon's finger and Jon, with bright, wet eyes, slides his onto Spencer's, Patrick nods and clasps his hands together. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you wed. You may kiss your groom.”Jon reaches forward to cup Spencer’s face in his hands, but before he can even lean in Spencer has his tux collar fisted in both hands and has yanked him close, crushing their lips together and clinging to him.Brendon laughs and cheers, clapping his hands and Ryan grins, smacking Spencer on the back once he finally pulls away.“Well done, Mr. Smith-Walker,” he hums.Spencer rolls his eyes, but wraps an arm around Jon and presses into him.“We have a party to get to,” Jon murmurs, kissing his temple.“They can wait,” Spencer says simply. “We did.”---The Sun is setting and soft, slow music plays as Brendon gives a happy sigh over Ryan’s shoulder. They’re pressed close together, one of Ryan’s hands resting on his hip while the other gently holds his, turning in small circles as they dance. He tilts his cheek, inhaling the minty scent of Ryan’s shampoo, and smiles.Jon and Spencer are off in the center of the dancefloor, swaying back and forth, Spencer pressing Jon’s hand against the side of his face as he mouths along to the words of the song. Jon's shiny gold band glints in the fading light, and Brendon’s smile only widens. “Here comes the sun…” The music slips over him and Brendon closes his eyes, gently tangling the fingers of his free hand in the hair at the nape of Ryan’s neck. He can hear his boyfriend humming along and ever so softly he sings the words. “Here comes the sun, and I say...it's all right…” “They look so happy,” Brendon murmurs.Ryan nods, leaning down to press their cheeks together. “They deserve it. Spence deserves it, he deserves to be happy after all this time.”“And are you happy?” Brendon asks softly, pulling back to look up at Ryan.“How could I not be?” Ryan smiles, lifting their hands so he can run a knuckle across Brendon’s lips. “I have the most beautiful person in the world in my arms as we speak, and I know for a fact that wedding cake is going to be to die for.”Brendon just laughs, shaking his head and leaning back into Ryan, looking around. “Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter, Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here.” Jon and Spencer have their eyes closed and are simply holding each other now. Jon has abandoned his jacket and Spencer’s bowtie is undone, hanging loosely around his neck. Their fingers are interlaced and the smiles on their lips hold the promise of a fresh forever, new and firm and exciting. They're off in their own little world, and Brendon knows nothing could take them from it right now.Pete and Patrick are dancing too, arms wrapped around one another and smiles soft and content. It looks like Patrick is singing to Pete, turning him in tiny circles and not even flinching when his husband steps on his feet. He even lets Pete attempt to dip him, and doesn’t complain at all when he’s nearly dropped.It’s funny to think how much things have changed in such a short time; Ryan and Patrick went from co-running the mansion to becoming full-on business partners with large shares in Clandestine Industries, Pete’s very own clothing company he built from the ground up all on his own. Pete now designs merchandise for his company when he isn’t spending weeks on end with his husband in the mansion, making plans for expansion or collaborations or meetings with other corporations. His nights are no longer spent on wild month-long benders, but instead, consist of curling on the couch with Patrick and arguing with Ryan and Travie over color schemes and hoodie patterns while Brendon struggles to find a movie they’ll all agree on.Travie has made a large name for himself in the art industry and is regularly over to work with Pete on new designs for his clothes, and occasionally comes in to do damage control when Pete starts to spiral over a bad review or two.Spencer and Jon have opened a catering business—which of course was in charge of feeding everyone tonight—that became wildly successful almost overnight. While it didn’t hurt that Pete gave them some start-up money and recommended them to all of his rich friends who regularly threw events, the true foundation of their newfound fame came from the fact that Spencer worked tirelessly in the kitchen to please their clients, and Jon had a smile that could melt any concern someone could come up with. They’ve traveled all across the world, now, from Paris to Rome to Tokyo and beyond, but nevertheless, they always come home here, to open arms and desperate pleas for tastes of the new dishes they no doubt collected while gone. They’ve made money now, too, enough that there’s been talk about opening a restaurant or two, and the way Spencer’s eyes light up when he talks about it is enough to make Brendon’s throat tight.Between being Spencer’s best man and Patrick’s business partner, Ryan’s been far busier in the past two years than Brendon thinks he might ever have been in the rest of his life. He’s had a wedding to plan and a budget to fix, and within the past two weeks has been approached by not a few prominent businessman about coming to look at their books to see just where they could improve. Yet still he finds time to come home and sprinkle kisses all across Brendon’s face and tell him how much he missed him, and look like he isn’t bone-tired and ready to fall asleep on his feet. He texts Brendon when they’re apart and sends him little gifts when he has to go out of town and can’t bring Brendon along, and somehow has managed to have an entirely successful career, be a phenomenal best man, and still not make Brendon feel the slightest bit neglected.And Brendon… “Here comes the sun Here comes the sun, and I say It's all right…” Two years ago he was alone, stranded in a job that left him feeling helpless and lost without a friend to hold his hand. His worst fear was losing that job, though, and proving every awful thought his parents had ever held about him right. He was spiraling with no end in sight, tumbling in a deadly freefall that would leave him broken on the ground, no pieces to put back together. He’d felt isolated and abandoned, and furious at the way his life had turned out; family was never supposed to turn their backs on one another, so all that meant was he had no family. Yet now, he was surrounded by family. He belonged, he was wanted, he had a place in the world and that was right here, in Ryan’s arms with their friends within reaching distance and a home to call his own. It was funny, how quickly things could change. He would have never imagined that within the span of a few years, he would have a job he loved helping people love their jobs, living his life not just getting through each day and struggling with even that, but seeing a future. A future where he was loved and cared for, and could love and care for. He had made a place for himself here, and it was his. He was no longer simply surviving. “Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here.” “I love you,” Brendon whispers into Ryan’s shoulder, tightening his fist in his boyfriend’s suit jacket and crumpling the fabric, blatantly ignoring Spencer’s threats as to just what would happen should they fuck these tuxes up.Ryan smiles, pulling back enough to rest his forehead on Brendon’s and bump their noses together. “I love you too, baby, so much.”Brendon shakes his head, swallowing hard past the lump in his throat that's making it ache. “I really love you, a whole, whole lot.”“I love you too,” Ryan repeats, brushing his lips over Brendon’s cheek. “A whole, whole lot. More than anything, and I always will.”Brendon nods, pushing up to kiss Ryan softly, wrapping his arms around his middle and tugging him close. "Here comes the sun..." Ryan’s hands come up to gently cup his face, fingers brushing lightly against his skin. His lips are careful, and Brendon can feel him smile against his mouth. "Here comes the sun, and I say"... He reaches one hand up to lightly grip Ryan’s, smiling too at the feeling of the engagement band he received only a few short months ago that rests cooly on his finger. Soon enough, they’ll be the ones exchanging rings at an altar and saying “I do.” He can’t help but smile wider. "It's all right..."
10793949	fear follow me	{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": null, "Characters": "Kim Seokjin \| Jin, Min Yoongi \| Suga, Park Jimin (BTS), Kim Taehyung \| V, Kim Namjoon \| Rap Monster, Jeon Jungkook, Jung Hoseok \| J-Hope", "Fandom": "방탄소년단 \| Bangtan Boys \| BTS", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-02T00:00:00", "words": "635", "Additional Tags": "Kim Seokjin \| Jin-centric, Angst, Psychological Trauma, Stalker, Other Additional Tags to Be Added", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	The sounds of the street, the voices, the screams, the flashes, the footsteps and the cars horns hid the voice of Seokjin, a voice that had sounded very small, very low, something uncharacteristic in the tone he always used."I'm sorry hyung, I didn’t hear you right, can you repeat it?""I feel- I feel something is not right" Seokjin looked at both sides of the street, clinging to Taehyung's arm as they approached the van that would take them back to the bedroom after completing the performances of their latest comeback. He fixed his eyes on the younger and Taehyung could see how uneasy his hyung was."Do you feel okay? Does your stomach hurt, hyung?""No, none of that, it's something else," he whispered as hundreds of fans crowded in to take a better view of them. His voice sounded like he was afraid of speaking the next words "I feel like someone's watching me""Hyung” a tired voice interrupted him “There are literally hundreds of eyes fixed on us right now" replied Yoongi, who was a little further in front of them, the obviousness in his voice was implied."That's not what ...""I need everyone inside the van now!" shouted one of their managers and with a bit of difficulty the seven got into the van and headed off. Seokjin still feeling uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. A little over a month ago he started feeling strange, insecure and nervous every time he set a foot on the street. He knew that their popularity was rising every day, they kept gaining fans like crazy and even he, being one of the members with the less amount of fans had a considerable number of fansites that followed him day and night, even crossing oceans like nothing, only to have the best photos of him.But this feeling.Man, this was something else, this annoying feeling frightened him, he started thinking that it was fear, that what he felt was uneasiness mixed with deep fear, he felt harassed by a mysterious being, by someone he had never seen and that made his stomach heavy. "Hyung, do you still think that you have a spooky stalker?" Hoseok looked at him with worried eyes, it was him whom Jin had first told about that strange feeling of being followed. "Do not we all have stalkers?" Jungkook asked without looking up from his 3DS."To some extent, yes, we all have ‘stalkers’ although I like to think that they are fans a little more passionate than normal, I wouldn't call them stalkers" Namjoon looked at Jungkook with disapproval, the maknae just shrugged "They just channel their passion in a different way and that's pretty normal if they don't cross the line, I mean, Yoongi hyung always followed the underground rappers of that club in Hongdae-"Hey! Are you calling me a stalker? I was a casual fan who was only interested in their music” Yoongi shot a murderous look at Namjoon who raised his arms in surrender “Hyung, Just…" he looked at Seokjin and yawned, they were all tired after their big comeback "Don’t think too much about it, this feeling will pass, I think we all have felt the same before, but it’s the price we have to pay"Seokjin nodded and settled into his seat, he stared up into the darkening sky, the day was going to end soon and his mind and body were exhausted, he stretched a little and tried to calm the tense muscles of his neck and back. Seokjin tried not thinking about the issue, but the uneasiness did not leave his stomach that day, neither the next nor the one who followed. Until he faced ---.And fear was only one of the feelings that flooded him that day.
10714857	The Naked Truth	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, Cato (Hunger Games), Johanna Mason, Haymitch Abernathy", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by Pikelet184", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-24T00:00:00", "words": "13,676", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Romance, Blind Date, Nudity, Public Nudity, Explicit Language, Sexual Tension, Attraction, Cato's a jerk", "Relationship": "Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "Everlark Fic Exchange - Springtime 2017", "Fandoms": "The Hunger Games (Movies), Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Hunger Games Series - All Media Types", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Katniss hears the ringing of the front door bell as she’s putting on the final touches to her outfit. With fumbling fingers, she fixes the back of her pearl stud earring and shoves her feet into the only pair of strappy black heels she owns, praying that by the end of the night her feet won’t ache and swell with juicy blisters. She gives her reflection a quick once over in the dust-covered mirror sitting in the far corner of her bedroom - her molten grey eyes stare back at her with nervousness and hesitancy. Taking a deep breath, she lowers her gaze and fretfully smooths out the wrinkles the iron failed to press out of the forest green spaghetti dress that clings to her body and highlights her small frame. It was the most expensive and date appropriate outfit she could find. She’d forgotten that she even had it, stumbling across it by accident behind all her winter coats at the back of her closest, ignored and with the sale tags still on. Katniss has never had a place or the opportunity to wear it out anywhere until tonight. She rarely goes out on dates, especially blind dates and isn’t the type of person who enjoys socialising and fluttering around aimlessly like an overzealous butterfly high on life. Her work colleagues are her only friends, but even that’s a loose statement depending on who you talk to. She much prefers to stay in the warm comfort and safety of her own cocoon since moving to Panem three years earlier. She likes that she has full ownership of the remote control and can watch any reality TV show she wants without the embarrassment and likelihood of snide remarks and ridicule. She’s a creature of habit, one who prefers to curl up in her favorite armchair, dressed in sweats and enjoying a cup of creamy hot chocolate, no matter what the weather’s like outside. However, a couple of months ago on Katniss’ birthday – celebrated alone, exactly how she preferred it - fractures of doubt had begun to appear out of nowhere, threatening the fragile existence of her perfect bubble. It was that night while eating a cupcake she’d bought for herself as a treat that she’d realized that the mangy, pain in the ass cat she was looking after while her sister Prim was away at school, had started to hang out with the identical flea ball next door, and seemed to be having more of a social – and sex - life than her. The wakeup had been like a bomb going off, ringing loud and clear in her ears and it had forced her take a good, hard look at herself. She’d realised she didn’t like what she saw - she was thirty two, had no real friends, no potential boyfriends waiting for her in the wings, and not even a single hobby she could draw any happiness from. She was living the same day over and over again like Bill Murray’s character in Groundhog Day. The only difference between them was that she had the ability to actually change things, and yet was still purposely choosing to live this way on a daily basis. Deep down she’d known that she’d needed to break free from her comfortable haven and start experiencing more of what life had to offer beyond sitting on a couch. At the rate she was going, the only legacy she would be leaving in this world was the imprint of her rear end on an acrylic cushion. She’d already known what was holding her back. She hadn’t needed an expensive psychiatrist to help her figure it out, it had been as clear as day – fear. Fear had been her biggest adversary since she’d been a child and she’d lost her father in a car accident. The crippling anxiety and the worrying thoughts that something bad might happen to her had been annoying and unwanted like foot rot, but they’d stuck. But she’d realised that now that she was older and matured, and was able to identify her triggers and the reasons behind them, she’d hoped she could lock all that away in a little black box and bury it 6 feet under. She knew she just needed to get out there and take that initial leap into the big, wide world and see where she landed. Which is exactly why the doorbell is ringing. Katniss had finally succumbed to months of bribery and heavy pressure from her work colleague, Madge, and agreed to go out on a blind date with a guy from the marketing department. She absently lists everything she knows about him in her head - his name is Cato Jackson and he works as an associate advisor for District Advertising. He enjoys lifting weights, camping…and apparently arriving fifteen minutes early to pick her up for their date. The doorbell rings again and Katniss tries not to grit her teeth in annoyance. She grabs her purse off the bed and heads to the front door, her heels clicking on the tiled floor, mimicking the rapid beating of her heart as she gets closer. Taking a deep breath, she swallows her anxiety and the internal need to pretend she’s not home and swings open the door quickly before she can change her mind. No, no, no. Absolutely not. This is a terrible idea. Has Madge lost her mind? It’s all she can think when her eyes fall upon the strange man’s overbearing frame that’s covering half her doorway, posing like he’s on the cover of GQ magazine. This hulk of a man is triple her size and his broad shoulders are straining hard against his navy shirt, like he’s about to break out and destroy half of the Capitol. Meanwhile, his blond hair looks like it’s been bleached or he’s spent way too much time under the hot rays of the sun, and the length is so short that it makes his head look out of proportion with his body. Madge had said he liked to lift weights but that would have to be a gross understatement. He’s obviously a junkie who lives at the gym 24/7, who has protein shakes for every meal and injects high doses of steroids into his body on a regular basis. “Katniss.” His voice comes out rough and scratchy, like the sound of scraping sandpaper. Her face is tight, but she manages to curl her mouth and muster a polite smile. Her stomach twists and clenches as she watches him blatantly look her up and down, clearly admiring her small, toned body. His gaze lingers a few seconds longer than necessary on the breasts that are being pushed up to effect thanks to the tight bodice of her dress. Oh god, this dress is a mistake. This whole thing is a mistake, her brain screams. I can’t go out with him. Why on earth did I agree to this? I feel like a piece of meat being displayed on a butcher’s block! Frantically she tries to think of an excuse to cancel the date at the last minute, her mind racing before he speaks up again. “So if you’re ready, I thought we could go and check out Cinna’s Art Gallery in the city.” Katniss pauses and her eyes widen dramatically. Any thoughts of an escape plan now lie in the background to sit and simmer. That sentence. It was the last thing she was expecting to come out of his mouth. She’s quite amazed he even knows what an art gallery is, not to mention the fact that he’s offering to take her there on their first date. She was under the impression from Madge that he was a typical beers and football kind of guy and that they’d probably head to a bar for the night. Katniss had just been hoping whichever off the wall establishment they’d found themselves in would at least serve some decent food so she didn’t have to eat a bowl of peanuts for dinner. But maybe she’s been reading this whole situation wrong. Katniss knows she can often judge people harshly and jump to conclusions, so perhaps this time her assumptions about Cato Jackson are incorrect. Relief appears and sweeps through her system as she lowers her defences. She gives him a true, genuine smile and can’t help but feel a little excited. “Cinna’s Art Gallery?” She confirms. “That actually sound amazing. I’ve never been there before.” “Really? Well you’re in for a treat. I heard this exhibition is supposed to be…um…one of a kind,” he answers, stumbling on his words before chuckling. “I went ahead and already purchased our tickets.” “Sounds great,” she replies beaming, and steps out onto the porch. She looks down to appraise her outfit for the tenth time. “Oh wait! Am I dressed alright for the exhibit? I know galleries can be fancy. It’s not too revealing is it?” He gives her a smirk and looks her up and down again, his eyes turning bright with lust. “You look hot, there’s no need to worry about your dress. We’ll be the envy of everyone there. Trust me,” he winks. That’s…odd, she thinks, but she lets it go and follows him down the footpath until they reach his shiny BMW parked in the driveway. Katniss tries not to show her displeasure when she notices his right tire is sitting on top of her small garden bed of primroses, the weight of the car crushing the beautiful and delicate flowers she only just planted two weeks ago. ------------------------ Standing in the large foyer at Cinna’s Art Gallery is like being part of a blissful dream you never want to wake up from. Katniss has never stepped inside such a building, one that can only be described as majestic. With wide eyes and a goofy grin, she looks like a kid on Christmas morning as she takes it all in. Her neck strains as she admires the huge cathedral formed ceilings and clear glass windows that are showing off the night sky. The universe is putting on its own exhibition tonight with its twinkling stars and orbiting planets, each one shining bright against the dark backdrop. Returning her gaze to the room around her, she’s mesmerised by all the stunning pieces that are laid out on display in the arrival area where they’re waiting in line to enter. Every piece is unique and she’s itching to step out of her spot so she can take a closer look. She can only imagine what kind of beautiful wonders are waiting for her inside the actual exhibition. Just the ambience in the room is humming with excitement and electricity, but instead of it causing her alarm and the need to run back to the safe confines of her house, it brings her a sense of comfort she’s can’t explain. “So what’s the show about?” Katniss asks curiously, turning her head to look at Cato. They haven’t talked much since getting into his car, and at the moment he doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to her. Instead, he’s staring straight ahead, his neck craning around an older man with a shaved head who’s standing in front of him, and looking around like he’s searching for something. She follows his line of sight, but all she can see is a group of people being politely escorted to a room on the left hand side of the building after they’ve had their tickets scanned. That must be the entrance to the exhibition, Katniss thinks. “Cato,” she tries again, her voice now louder to get his attention. It does the trick. He turns around to stare at her with an annoyed expression on his face. “What’s the exhibition about?” “Oh, um, you know…art and stuff.” Katniss’ brows narrow at his unwillingness to share. She doesn’t understand why it has to be a big secret. There must be some reason why he picked this place tonight. “Well it’s got to be something in particular,” she prompts. “This place is packed. The name of the exhibition should be written on our tickets.” He turns to her with a smile, though his eyes are cold. “Can’t a guy surprise a girl on a date anymore?” They reach the counter where a young woman with long red hair and a kind smile greets them. Cato pulls the tickets out from his back pocket and hands them to her to scan. Katniss tries to sneak a peek, but Cato’s large, veiny hands cover most of them. Something unsettling begins to wash over her, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention as she feels his hand find her lower back and begin to nudge her along, heading to the room on the left. With a shake of her head and any semblance of social decorum now out the window, she digs her heels into the granite flooring and forces them to stop mid walk. “What’s going on?” She asks turning to him, her voice growing high with suspicion. “I don’t understand why you’re being so secretive. What’s the exhibition about? Why won’t you tell me?” He stands still, staring down at her intently for a few moments, his body vibrating with heat and refusing to give her an answer. “I’m not leaving this spot until you tell me,” she pushes. Cato drops his mask of stone and groans with enough exaggeration that it causes a few people to look over. He drives his fingers roughly through his hair. “Women,” he whispers with a huff. “Fine! It’s a nude exhibition, alright? The artists are naked! They’re the exhibition. You happy?” It takes Katniss’ brain several moments to catch up and process what he’s said. “A nude exhibition?” She whispers back uncertainly, shock clearly written across her face. Her mouth gapes open a few times like a fish out of water but she’s still not sure what to say to that unexpected confession. Nudity. The artists are nude. Naked like the day they were born, she thinks and feels her cheeks flame with heat. Katniss has never viewed something like that before. She’s always been shy and uncomfortable around nudity. She’s only had one boyfriend and that was before she moved to Panem. The relationship lasted seven months and during that time they only ever had sex with the lights off. Katniss has always been self – conscious about her body, never comfortable in her own skin, no matter how many times Darius told her she was gorgeous. She never believed him. And now just thinking about what awaits for her inside that large hall where a group of male and female artists will be fully nude and standing around on display… well it causes anxious butterflies to appear and dance around in her belly like they’re trying to fight each other to escape. Her shock of the situation however soon quickly turns to boiling rage – at herself. She knew she shouldn’t have trusted him. Of course he wasn’t into art, he had his own agenda for tonight - using their date as an excuse to come and ogle other women. She’s never felt so angry…and hurt. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He says, reading her expression. He has the gallantry to look defeated. “It’s just I thought this would be something different to do on a first date – something we could experience together. Madge said you wanted to get out and explore life and shit...” Her mouth forms a tight line. She can’t believe Madge actually told him that after she confided in her. Ugh! She tries to take a few calming breaths to mellow out the resentment she now feels towards both of them. What he said, though, was true. She does need to get out and explore new things and this exhibition would definitely fit into that category and yank her out of her comfort zone. This type of art is not her thing. She was seriously expecting just to see a bunch of paintings and sculptures from famous artists or local talents – nothing too confrontational and confronting…but maybe she could do this. Looking around at the sheer number of people who have turned up tonight it seems like this type of exhibition interests a lot of people from all walks of life. “It’s a movement thing,” Cato continues, trying to convince her. “You never know, it could be fun...” He gives her a devastatingly handsome smile, one that’s almost convincing with his pearly whites and eyes shining bright. But his mouth curls in a way that causes Katniss to sense a small amount of doubt about his sentiments. What the hell, she thinks. She’s here and she doesn’t want to make a scene by leaving, especially when they’d already gotten their tickets scanned and an usher is waiting patiently nearby. Besides taking Cato’s lying out of the equation, this exhibition could be good for her. She should do this for herself. “I wish you’d told me earlier,” she tells him tightly before softening her tone. “But alright, I’ll go in.” He looks surprised for a moment that she’s actually agreed to go in with him but quickly covers it up with a flirty grin. “That’s great,” he replies, taking her hand in his. It feels cold and stiff. “I just know we’re going to have a lot of fun together and I hear,” he leans down and whispers in a conspiratorial tone, “that it can be good for foreplay.” She swallows the bile rising at the back of her throat and shakes away the invisible sensation of creepy crawlies scuttling along her neck from where his breath just laid upon her skin. Do most women fall for his charm? If that’s the case, he’s going to be sorely disappointed when the night is over, as absolutely nothing like that is going to be happening. Ever. As soon as the opportunity arises she’ll be hailing down a cab and hightailing it out of there before he even realises she’s gone. As the usher greets them with a pleased smile, he passes Cato a key and directs them to go straight inside the room on the left. Katniss isn’t sure what the key is about. Maybe it’s connected to something in the exhibition, like some kind of symbolism. She’s not too sure, as she’s never been good at finding hidden meanings. She bites her lip nervously as they move closer to the door. At least I’ll have one positive thing to tell Prim about tonight, she thinks. It didn’t surprise Katniss one bit that her sister literally screamed in delight when she’d told her she had agreed to go on a blind date during one of their weekly skype catch ups. And knowing her persistent sister, she’ll be wanting every minuscule detail. “Here we go,” Cato announces, opening the unmarked door and allowing her to walk through. She makes her way inside, gearing herself up for what she’s about to come face to face with, but instead she stops in her tracks, afraid that her eyes are deceiving her. She scans the room closely trying to make sense about what she’s seeing, and the realisation hits her like a ton of bricks, her eyes widening in horror. Every one of her limbs freeze and her body stiffens. Even the heat radiating off Cato’s body against her back is not helping her move. And she really wants to move so she can get as far away from him as possible while screaming at the top of her lungs, “How dare you?” and “What the hell is this?” Standing in front of her are about twenty naked people. Bare ass naked like the day they were born. Male and female. Their bodies all different sizes; big, medium, small. Toned, saggy. Every inch of their skin is exposed and hanging out for everyone to see. But that’s not what’s horrifying her – it’s the fact that these naked bodies don’t belong to the artists. She recognises these people - they were just waiting in line with them to view the exhibition. The old man with the shaved head who’d been in front of them is now standing a few feet away, wearing his birthday suit and scratching his nuts. With dazed eyes, Katniss watches as he places all his clothes into a locker, which she can now see is one of many spread out across the entire room where people are shedding their clothes. She eyes the key in his hand, noting it’s identical to the one Cato received, as he locks the small metal compartment. He gives them both a kind smile as he walks past them and heads towards another door at the back of the room, where a sign on display says, ‘Exhibition Entrance.’ She feels Cato pushing her forward, towards a locker that’s situated at the back of the room. Immediately she rises out of her stupor and rounds on him. “What the fuck is this?” She hisses through clenched teeth, and tries to keep her voice low. But there’s no mistaking the anger seeping out of every pore of her body. “Oh come on, what’s the difference?” He defends sharply. He clearly knows what she’s talking about. “It’s no big deal. You said you were fine with naked art.” “Yes! But that’s when I thought only the artists would be nude. I didn’t think…I had…to…” She starts to stammer as her throat begins to close up with an emotion she doesn’t want to deal with right now. Instead she turns it into anger. Anger is good; it’s familiar and powerful and besides, he deserves the full brunt of her wrath after this implausible stunt he’s just pulled. “I can’t believe you brought me here on a first date!” She yells back. “You tricked me. You’re a liar!” Out of the corner of her eye she can now see the majority of people leaving the change room, scurrying out the door like rats in order to get away from the dispute they’re bearing witness to. If she wasn’t filled with so much rage she could probably find the humor in watching a bunch of naked people running for their lives. “Listen, I know I wasn’t completely upfront with you about everything,” he says like owning up to his deception will make everything better. “But don’t you think you’re overacting a bit? Most women would love to do this with me.” To emphasise his point he begins to unbutton his shirt, dragging the material down his shoulders like he’s getting ready to model. His tanned and muscular chest glistens under the changing room’s downlights and she wonders in disgust if he purposefully slicked himself up with baby oil before he came to pick her up. With every article of clothing he takes off, her mouth only twists further and further into rage and horror. He played her like a damn fool, to the point that she ignored her own instincts – twice. She opens her mouth to let fly every single, hateful word she has for him, until out of the corner of her eye she’s distracted by another couple entering the room and she’s forced to pause mid breath. Their presence is like a stop button on a remote control, pausing a vital scene in a movie. The overzealous giggling coming from the woman cements Katniss’ attention as they close the door. The man has his arm wrapped around the woman’s waist and they both have huge smiles on their faces like they don’t have a care in the world. The man is tall, with a stocky build and broad shoulders. His blond, wavy hair curls at the tips of his ears and his piercing blue eyes stare at the blond woman in his arms like he’s the luckiest man on earth. Walking past them to find their locker, they greet Katniss and Cato with a smile, unaware they’ve just stepped into a potential war zone. Just looking at them it’s obvious they’re very much in love and devoted to one another. For the first time it makes Katniss envious of a romantic relationship and her heart starts to hurt. She takes in every line of expression and curve of their lips as they whisper and help each other out of their clothes lovingly. They’re truly a captivating couple. “You said it yourself that you wanted to try something new,” Cato says, breaking into her reverie. “What could be better than this?” Using a quieter voice as she doesn’t want the perfect couple looking over and listening in on their private conversation, she replies coldly. “Yes, that’s true. But I also wanted to try new things on my own terms. Not to be forced into it and not to do something so….” scary, terrifying, she thinks, but she doesn’t voice those fears out loud. “Don’t be so pure, Katniss,” he berates, taking off his slacks and leaving him in his underwear that leaves nothing to the imagination. Katniss takes a step back. “Wait a minute - are you a virgin?” He asks suddenly, alarmed by her reaction. “Is that why you’re upset? Because you’ve never seen a naked body before?” Pure? Virgin? “What does that have to do with anything?” She snarls. “Oh my god, what is wrong with you? Are you deluded? Did you actually think you were doing me a favor by bringing me here?” His audacity has her reeling. “And by the way, the only thing that isn’t pure around here is your intentions.” She doesn’t care anymore if the flawless couple can hear her now, she’s too enraged at his stupidity to hold back. “I can’t believe I gave you another chance – again,” she scowls and to her horror she feels a pesky, burning feeling start to form at the back of her eyes and she wills her body with all her might to stop it immediately. But instead her vision becomes blurry and her chin begins to quiver. “You’re an asshole!” She cries out before lifting her hand and slapping him across the face. The sound resembles a gunshot and it echoes through the room, making the ideal couple look over at them, startled. Katniss feels her hand vibrating with hot heat as she tries to shake away the pain but she gets no relief. Taking one last, furious look at Cato, who is holding his crimson cheek in shock – Good! I hope I left a mark - she runs to the nearest door, hoping it’s an exit out of the gallery. But instead of finding sweet relief from the date from hell, she discovers she’s not outside but instead standing alone in a bathroom that looks so pristine and high tech she wonders briefly if she’s stepped onto a space shuttle. She peers over her shoulder to make sure Cato isn’t following her. He’s not, but not wanting to chance it, she moves into the middle toilet cubicle and locks the door. In defeat, she drops the toilet lid down loudly and sits herself on top of it with a loud sigh. Her shoulders break first; trembling and shaking under the heavy weight of tonight’s events and soon watery tears descend and fall, sliding down her heated cheeks. She sniffles and wipes them away hastily. She shouldn’t have been surprised about how her night turned out. The odds were never in her favor. Why did she even try? Tonight was just a reminder that she’s doomed to be alone forever. Stuck in a life where her destiny resembles the life of a mouse. A creature who spends most of its days running around aimlessly on a wheel, who does the same thing over and over again and never having any hope in changing it or going anywhere. Just the thought causes another fat tear to slip down her cheek and she rips a piece of toilet paper off to dab at her swollen eyes. I’ve failed, she thinks and for the first time in years she lets herself truly break and feel the grief of her lonely and possibly insignificant life. She doesn’t know how long she remains in this state. She only stops when there are no more salty tears to shed and the unsettling thought of how she’s going to get out of here hits her. Her worrying, however, is short lived when the bathroom door unexpectedly creaks open. She stops and freezes as footsteps pad inside, listening intently as she tries to remember if Cato walked with a heavy gait. It’s obvious where she’s hiding. The thin wooden toilet door between them offers her very little protection and there’s no way she will be opening it up willingly for him, especially not after slapping him. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the type of guy who would use threats or an element of force with her after an incident like that. She pulls out her phone, ready to swipe Madge’s number when an unfamiliar and masculine voice speaks up. “Hello.” Taken back by the stranger’s greeting she remains silent. “Are you alright?” He speaks again, his voice kind. She sucks in a sharp breath and feels an unusual heat creep upon her skin. She doesn’t know why but she’s taken back by the soothing sound of the stranger’s voice. There’s something comforting about it, like warm honey sliding lazily down your throat. He coughs. “If you’re worried about the guy you were with, don’t be. He’s gone. You’re safe.” The relief that Cato isn’t out there anymore hits her instantaneously. The tension leaves her shoulders and her whole body relaxes in reply. “Are you hurt?” He asks worriedly. The question startles her. “No,” she finally answers, finding her voice. But it comes out hoarse and she hates the fact it makes it obvious that she’s been crying. “Can you please open the door so I can make sure you’re okay?” The sweet pleading in his voice convinces her that the stranger’s concern is genuine. She nods, but then realises he can’t see her. She doesn’t want to leave this tiny stall just yet so she leans over and unlocks the door. Slowly it swings open and reveals the face of her mystery man. She’s quick to assess that it’s the same man from the change room who’s part of the captivating dynamic duo. Although now instead of standing in front of her naked, he’s wearing a long, white terry cloth robe. “There you are,” he smiles, but his eyes can’t hide the shadow of concern. “It’s okay. My name’s Peeta.” “Katniss,” she murmurs, meeting his gaze. “It’s nice to meet you, Katniss.” His smile then drops, and takes on a serious expression as his eyes rake over her body like he’s looking for any signs of injuries. “Are you sure you’re alright?” She nods. Now that she’s in close proximity to him she manages to catch a whiff of his scent, which she recognises immediately as cinnamon and dill. It reminds her of her favorite bakery she likes to frequent before work. Their cheese buns and hot chocolate are to die for. Staring up she can’t help but be mesmerised by the profundity in his ocean blue eyes, almost to the point that she feels like she’s drowning in them. Her attention is drawn to the muscular chest that peeks through the top layer of his robe and she has the sudden urge to kiss and swirl her tongue all over it. He’s got handsome and wholesome written all over him, like he’s been plucked out of a 1950’s sitcom. Her eyes travel across his body trying to map out and remember what he looked like naked just a few minutes ago. The momentary flash she got of his gorgeous body while she was fighting with Cato is now imprinted permanently behind her eyelids. But then the image of the happy woman he was with takes centre stage and the show is over. She feels terrible and shakes her head in shame. “Thank you,” she replies quietly. “It was nice of you to come back here and check up on me. But really I’m fine. You should go back out there to your girlfriend and enjoy the exhibition.” He blinks, confused for a second. “But…I don’t have a girlfriend.” Her eyes narrow and she looks at him baffled. “But - back in the change room, you were all over that blond woman.” She watches as his features transform briefly from one of confusion to a look of understanding, before relief reaches his lips and he lets out a throaty chuckle. “That wasn’t me.”“What do you mean, it wasn’t you?” She asks, and rises to her feet. “I saw you with my own eyes. You were all over each other,” she accuses. She feels the anger building up inside her again like boiling water. She can’t believe there’s another guy standing right in front of her and blatantly lying to her face again. “Did you think because you saw me with some dumb meathead that I’d be too brainless to figure you out?” Peeta’s face drops. “No! Listen you have the wrong idea. I was -” “I have the wrong idea?!” She reiterates angrily, her eyes scorching back with fire. “Well then please enlighten me. What ingenious excuse were you going to come up with?” She adds sarcastically, and steps forward into his personal space. “Maybe you were going to tell me I’m crazy and I just imagined you and your girlfriend in the changeroom? Or maybe you were going to tell me that the guy back there is actually your identical twin brother? Peeta stares at her wide eyed for a moment. “Ah, yeah actually. You’re right on the money with the twin thing,” he manages to get out apprehensively. Her lips purse firmly in thought and she closes her eyes in irritation. “Look,” she starts, before she opens her eyes again. This time the anger has faded and been replaced by exhaustion. “I’m not in the mood to have another guy lie to me tonight, okay? So I’m giving you to the count of three to tell me the truth or I’ll have no regrets about kicking you in the balls.” Peeta winces as he holds his hands up in surrender and takes a careful step back. “There’s really no need for that, I swear.” He pointedly looks down at Katniss’ feet, worry etched across his face that she’s about to strike any second like a cobra. “Kicking me in the nuts would be a really bad idea. Look I’m sorry you’ve had a rough night, but I was being serious earlier. I do have a brother and we are identical twins. I can prove it to you.” The rush of worry and desperation in his voice pulls at her heart strings uninvited and causes her to pause and reconsider. His frantic eyes search her face begging to be believed. Sighing loudly she goes against her better judgement and steps back as he pulls out an iPhone from the pocket of his robe. “Here, I actually have a photo of the three of us together,” he says, offering the device to her. She looks at the screen and there in front of her is no denying the familiar giggling, blond dressed up in a floral dress with bouncing curls. She’s standing happily in between two familiar blond men who look completely identical down to their button up navy blue suits and matching smiles that could rot your teeth with their sweetness. All three of them are standing behind a colorful banner that reads. “Congratulations on your engagement Delly and Rye.” “No trick photography or image altering I swear,” he jokes. Omg! There’s two of them, she thinks and lets out an audible groan. Her cheeks bloom in shame and she feels mortified about how she just spoke to him, when all along he was being a nice and considerate guy coming in to check on her wellbeing. Surely she’s hit her limit now. Her name has to be worthy of being featured in the Guinness World record books under the award of ‘having the worst and most embarrassing night of your life.’ She lifts her head, looking contrite. “I’m so sorry. I should never have accused you of being a liar. That was awful of me. And I’m sorry I threatened to kick you in the balls,” she finishes awkwardly. He laughs. “It’s alright, don’t be so hard on yourself. You weren’t to know. I understand why you would have made that assumption. Believe it or not it’s not the first time I’ve been mistaken for my brother in less than ideal circumstances,” he jokes. “Kind of comes with the territory of being an identical twin.” She gives him a small smile, grateful at his understanding and for his talent at putting people at ease. “It sounds like you’ve had a rough night,” he adds sympathetically. “I think that’s the understatement of the century,” she answers solemnly and hands him back his phone. She steps around him and out of the cubicle until she’s in front of a porcelain sink. She leans over to splash some cold water onto her face and through the mirror she notices Peeta straightening up his robe. “How did you know I was in here?” She enquires, reaching for a fluffy hand towel. “Rye and Delly,” he states like its explanation enough. “They saw you upset and running from a guy in the change rooms. They were worried and said the guy looked a bit…shady so they came and found me. Said you might need some help.” “Are you a security guard?” She asks, although as soon as the question leaves her lips she thinks it’s unlikely due to the lack of clothes he’s wearing. Unless security is going nude for tonight too, she wonders. “I’m one of the artists,” he explains not missing a beat. “But I’ve worked at the gallery for a long time. We take any harassment, especially on nights like this, very seriously. There’s no room for chances.” She nods, worrying her lip between her teeth as he watches her closely. Unanswered questions burn bright from his eyes like lasers. After everything he’s done for her tonight, she knows he deserves an explanation. “My blind date brought me here,” she shares quietly. Peeta doesn’t say anything, but the light in his eyes soften, the action telling her it’s okay and to take her time. “I thought we were just going to see some sculptures and paintings. I didn’t realise it was a nude exhibition and that…we had to be nude too.” Rehashing the memories of Cato and his true intentions make her feel like an idiot again and she lowers her head in shame. “Wait a minute,” Peeta’s appalled voice cuts in and echoes against the tiled walls. He takes a few steps closer and his presence causes her to lift her head. She’s shocked to see his face contorted and anger swimming amongst the depths of his eyes like a violent storm is brewing. “Let me get this straight. You’ve never met this guy before and he brought you here to this exhibition on a first date?” “Yes. He had tickets. Said it could be good foreplay.” Peeta growls with animalistic fervour. “That’s just fucked up! Who the hell does something like that?! You know he’s lucky he’s not here because I would love to give him a piece of my mind before throwing him out on his ass!” Her lips tug up into a smile before she can help herself. He looks livid. His fists are clenched and his jaw is tense, making him look all pumped up and ready to go into battle for her. It’s kind of cute and endearing, and her heart starts to warm and swell with something. No Katniss, don’t go there. Even though he’s nice and feeling protective towards you it doesn’t mean he would ever be ever interested in someone like you. He works here and is just being concerned. She clears her throat, turning her facial expression neutral, hoping it will disguise the fact that her heart is beating so quickly she’s afraid it will jump out of her chest and land at his feet in a pathetic heap. “Well it looks like I’ll have to thank your brother for going to get you – he sounds like a great guy.” “Oh, please whatever you do, don’t say that to his face. I beg you. He’ll be milking this for weeks and I have to see him every day,” he tells her but his tone is friendly and humorous. The way his face relaxes when speaking about his brother tells her that they have a close and playful bond. “If I thought I could get away with telling people Rye is not my brother – trust me I would. I like to refer to him as the evil twin, whereas he prefers being called the devilishly handsome one.” Katniss flings her head back and laughs in delight, before Peeta joins in too. It’s nice to let bursts of laughter spring forth and allow some of the tension to seep out of her body after the night she’s had. She can’t believe how comfortable she feels around him and they’ve only just met. She’s never felt like this with anyone before, not even Darius. She smiles, taking in the huskiness of his laughter and realises she likes it. It’s a deep and joyful sound that she thinks even the birds would stop to listen to. “So is there any way to tell you two apart?” She asks curiously. “Well, let’s see…he’s right handed and I’m left handed,” he shares with a shrug. “So if you ever have trouble telling us apart just hand over a pen and demand us to write. It’s what Delly used to do when we were kids,” he chuckles and his eyes drift off briefly like he’s remembering something funny. “Oh, and I do have a small scar just near my hairline.” He smooths back his hair, showing off his forehead. She leans forward, and can’t help but take in another whiff of his scent like she’s breathing in some kind of heavenly life force. She eyes the small ragged blemish that you wouldn’t know was there unless you were looking for it. “I got this when I was 13 thanks to Rye. We were competing against one another at the regional wrestling competition. I came off second best,” he adds with a feign grimace. Her mouth opens in fake indignation. “Siblings, right? They can be a real pain in the ass sometimes can’t they?” “Tell me about – he still likes to gloat over it every now and again. But whenever I suggest a re-match he suddenly has to go home.” She unexpectedly lets out a giggle. “Sounds like someone is threatened to lose their title,” she teases before her face drops to one of envy and sadness. “You’re lucky though that you have your brother close by. I haven’t seen my sister in almost a year.” “Oh? Why’s that?” “She’s living on the other side of the country studying medicine.” “Oh wow, that’s great,” he remarks sounding impressed. “Although I’m sorry you don’t get to see her often. That would be tough. But you must be proud? She’s out there following her dreams, with the courage to leave the safety of her comfort zone…” Comfort Zone. Two simple words that mean nothing to her when spoken separately but when they’re put together hit her straight in the gut like a freight train. And the way he’s looking at her now makes her feel a little uneasy, like he’s got x-ray vision and is using his superpower to look straight through her to view her very soul. Her skin suddenly feels hot under his intense stare like she’s standing underneath a giant spotlight. It causes her to pull away and break eye contact. “Yeah I guess so,” she answers softly, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation has taken. “So, um…” She clears her throat, wanting to get back to what they were talking about earlier. “So it’s only those two things that can tell you apart?” He stares at her for a few moments, clearly thinking. His eyes bore into hers longer than what’s necessary before he answers. “Well if we’re only talking about physical appearances there is something else that can tell us apart.” And without hesitation, he lifts up his robe. For a crazy, split second, she thinks he’s going to flash her which doesn’t make any sense, but then she notices the robe has just been lifted up to his left knee. The action causes her eyes to be drawn down to his lower limb. But she’s not looking at flesh and bone. Instead, she realises he’s wearing a prosthetic leg. Peeta stands still and composed, watching her closely and waiting for some kind of reaction. Katniss is shocked for a few moments as she gets her bearings. She certainly wasn’t expecting to see that when he lifted up his robe. Her eyes travel carefully up and down the artificial limb inspecting it in wonder. She can’t believe how real it looks. “What happened?” She asks, looking up into his eyes. She’s surprised by her concerned tone considering they’ve only just met, but she can’t hide the fact that she feels somewhat protective towards him. Her heart clenches thinking about all the terrible things that could have happened to him. He shrugs his shoulders with a wry smile. “I wish I had more of a dramatic story to tell you. But I was 16, away at a school camp and my friends and I wanted to go visit Arena Mountain. And of course the teachers wouldn’t let us, so we snuck off and I ended up slipping down a hill and cutting my leg on some rusted fencing.” She winces. “Oh my god. What did you do?” “Obviously not the smart thing,” he tells her dryly. “We didn’t want to get in trouble so we kept our little adventure and my injury to ourselves. I thought cleaning it up with water and soap would be fine.” He runs his free hand through his hair with a loud sigh. “But before I knew it, I got really sick and found out I had blood poisoning. The doctors were able to save my life but not my leg.” He gives her a tight, accepting smile. The mood in the bathroom has now dropped a couple of degrees. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” she tells him, reaching out to touch his arm in a gesture of comforting. “After all that did you at least get to Arena Mountain?” He looks down at her with a double take before his face splits into a wide grin and bursts of hysterical laughter escape his lungs. The effect causes his shoulders to shake and his eyes to water. “You know no one has ever asked me that before. Usually when I retell this story everybody just wants to focus on the negatives. So thank you,” he says between gasps. “I mean, that was the reason we snuck out, but no one has ever cared to ask if we made it to our destination or not. But to answer your question, we got there, banged up leg and all and it was amazing.” “That’s good to hear,” she smiles, her eyes bright. She was hoping the question would have that kind of effect on him. Knowing from past experiences, she knows he doesn’t need or want her pity. Sometimes deflecting off a painful memory that’s right in front of you can be the best medicine. He finally gets his laughter under control, wiping away the stray water from his eyes. He gazes down at her, and she’s surprised at the way his eyes are dancing across her face, almost in what could only be described as pure wonderment. He’s looking at her like he’s in the presence of an amazing piece of art that he can’t take his eyes off. The thought makes her feel self-conscious and giddy. The moment however fades when he coughs and his features turn serious. “I’m not going to lie to you. I’m alright with it now - it’s been 15 years,” he shares thoughtfully. “But for a while there I was quite depressed. It took me awhile to get use to it.” Katniss nods. “I learnt a lot about myself during that time though. Did a lot of thinking.” “What did you think about?” She asks with interest. She doesn’t think she’s ever been so taken with someone before. Every word coming out of his mouth is like a magnet to her ears. “Well obviously I know now that I need to head straight to the hospital whenever I have a medical emergency,” he smiles with a self-deprecating chuckle. “But I also realised I didn’t want the accident to change me. I still wanted to be that person who enjoys life and loves to get out there and explore new things. To not let the fear take over. I refused to have that part of myself cut off too.” “You wanted to be you,” she states. “Yeah,” he smiles, his relief that she understands obvious. She’s in awe right now. She can’t deny she’s completely taken with him. She’s never felt this way before and didn’t think in a million years that she’d ever truly find someone she had this type of connection with. He makes her want to try for more. Here in front of her is a man whose life was dramatically transformed but he refused to be changed by it and let it define him. He fought back, willing to get out there and experience real, authentic snapshots of what life has to offer. The notion makes Katniss feel shameful about her own life. She’s never had to experience physical adversity in her life like he has, yet she still doesn’t have the guts to live beyond her comfort zone. “So is that why you do nude art?” She asks. He laughs. “Well I do all kinds of art,” he assures her. “My love affair with it started after my accident. It was part of my therapy and I was fortunate enough to turn it into a career. But this exhibition and the miracle of the human body has a special place in my heart. I don’t think there’s any other times in our lives when we are truly bare and vulnerable. And to me that’s beautiful. That’s what makes us human.” Smiling boldly, he adds, “Although I could include sex into that equation too. But I think showcasing that would be taking it a step too far, don’t you think?” His words cause her to blush, and she lowers her head. But she’s still attuned in fascination to what he’s saying. The meaning of his words are reaching out to her with gentle hands and guiding her to open up and listen. To not be afraid to express yourself and to have the courage to indulge yourself into a new world of possibilities. “If you take away all the fancy clothes, jewellery and iPhones we’re the same,” he continues. “This is me and I’m a human being capable of anything. My body is a blank canvas.” “I like the sound of all that. Really. You make it sound so simple…and beautiful. But I just…I don’t know how you can go out there and be…naked in front of all those people. Don’t you get scared?” She asks, lifting her head. “I get nervous of course - which is normal,” he explains calmly. “But when I’m out there I feel like I’m in a different world. A peaceful world where it’s just me. Everybody and everything just seems to wash away unnoticed into the background. I wouldn’t be able to tell you who I see out there.” He pauses and thinks carefully for a moment. “There is something liberating and freeing about the experience. It’s like being on a natural high. And I don’t care if people see me,” he winks cheekily. Her mouth can’t help but curl up and smile in reply. “But seriously,” he adds, his voice turning earnest. “The event we’re offering tonight is in a safe and controlled environment for everyone. And when you think about it you’re not alone. Everybody is out there bare, naked and vulnerable. All in the same boat without letting fear, prejudice or judgement be a part of them or the experience.” She nods, thinking that makes sense and she’s glad he’s brought that to her attention. Besides Cato, she’d noticed that everyone else in the change room earlier seemed to have genuine intentions and interest towards the exhibition. She certainly didn’t see any bad behavior coming from any of them and that takes a load off her shoulders. “So your brother and future sister in law like participating in these things too?” She asks. “Yeah,” he bobs his head firmly. “My family is close. You know my parents are out there too.” Her brows narrow briefly in horror as she lets his admission sink in. She wouldn’t be caught dead doing anything like this with her mother or sister. Not if you paid her a million dollars. She’s doesn’t know how to reply to that as she doesn’t want to offend him or his family and come off as a bumbling prude. But when she looks closer she notices his teeth are digging hard enough into his lower lip that it will surely leave marks, and his shoulders are shaking like he’s trying really hard not to laugh. “You’re joking,” she states in relief. “Yes, I’m joking.” He sniggers. “But you should have seen your face.” “That wasn’t funny,” she reprimands and tries to playfully hit him on the arm which he light-heartedly dodges. “Don’t worry my parents are not into this type of thing, or my grandparents,” he adds as a cheeky afterthought. “My brother on the other hand - well he thinks if his younger brother by 6 minutes can do it, then so can he.” “Evil twin strikes again huh?” “The guy has no shame or an off button. Though I’m sure Delly had to down a few shots before coming here.” “They sound like a unique pair,” Katniss grins. “Yeah, they are,” he answers fondly. “They’re lucky they found each other. I just hope one day I have even half their luck. I would love to be in a relationship with a beautiful and intelligent woman who has no idea what kind of effect she has on me. And of course after Rye insists on having the final say on my love life, we would get married, maybe have a couple of kids and just live our lives the best way we can.” He stops abruptly, his eyes widening and his face turning crimson. It’s clear as he rubs the back of his neck nervously that he’s embarrassed he revealed too much of himself. A deafening silence falls over them but all Katniss can hear is her heart beat picking up the pace like a galloping race horse. “I hope I have the same luck too,” she whispers, not sure where that bold and courageous statement came from. But she knows deep down she means every word - now that she’s had a taste of this amazing man. The air around them intensifies with crackles of electricity. It’s like they’re joined by a live wire and Katniss feels her skin buzzing. She knows he feels it too, because his embarrassment is gone and he gives her a shy, knowing smile before he clears his throat to speak. “Um, so yeah back to what I was saying earlier. This exhibition isn’t for everybody. And I don’t want you to feel forced into something you don’t feel comfortable with. I just hope after what you experienced tonight that it won’t keep you away from the gallery. It would be nice if you came back…to visit,” he adds quietly, and looks at her with a glimmer of hope. For someone who has the confidence to model nude in front of complete strangers his self –assurance has suddenly turned shaky and non-existent. But just the thought of what he’s implying - that there’s a chance they can meet up again - makes her heart burst open with hope. “I’d like that,” she smiles. He lets out a deep breath, like he was holding it in. “Great. So yeah you can come back anytime you want. I’m here most days. I could give you a private tour if you like – paintings and sculptures only of course,” he smiles eagerly. Katniss is about to suggest she could come by tomorrow when she’s rudely interrupted by a loud thump on the bathroom door. “Yo! Bread boy! Are you in there? Whatever the hell you’re doing you need to hurry up and get your sexy, naked ass out here before Haymitch blows his load.” Katniss looks over at Peeta horrified at the woman’s sudden and brazen intrusion. He reaches out and gently takes a hold of her arm; she feels steady in his warmth and his thumb rubs along her soft bare skin in reassurance. “Ignore her, she likes to be dramatic,” he whispers, before he turns his head in the direction of the door. “Jo, you said you would cover for me.” “And I did, but I’m not a miracle worker…or a bottle of white liquor. He saw right through me – you know what he’s like. After tonight’s incident with the brainless douchebag he’s as tense as ever. I offered to help him with his load but I don’t think he appreciated the innuendo.” Peeta shakes his head with a groan. “I’m coming in – there’s no point in hiding, I know what you’re packing.” She pushes open the door so violently that it bangs loudly against the wall before bouncing back. A woman with dark, spiky hair and mischievous hazel eyes steps across the threshold fully naked, and parades towards them like she’s modelling on a catwalk. With wide eyes, Katniss takes in every inch of her confident form, starting from her toned legs and working her way up until she views her impressive 6 pack stomach and perky breasts. Mortification fills her as she realises she’s been staring. In a flash she turns away, pretending the porcelain sinks are a lot more interesting. A shrill cackling sound comes from the woman’s mouth and brings her attention back. “I see we’ve got a live one here,” she says icily, judging Katniss’ full attire with distaste. “Don’t Jo,” Peeta responds sharply. She shakes her head in disgust. “Have you finished rescuing the damsel in distress yet or what? You know after the Finnick incident Haymitch is watching everybody like a hawk.” Peeta smirks. “I’ll be right there.” But not a moment too soon a rough, slurred voice calls out. “Boy! Where the hell are you?” Heavy and unbalanced footsteps follow the question as the man who Katniss assumes is Haymitch pops his head inside the bathroom door. He’s an older man in his forties with dark hair and olive skin and thank god he’s fully clothed. “Mellark, your space is filling up with people wanting to see you. I’m not paying you to sit around in a robe all night and play prince charming.” Peeta, who is still looking at Katniss, just rolls his eyes in amusement. He’s clearly not affected by either of them. That gesture and his demeanour allows her to breathe and relax her nerves. “I wouldn’t be worrying what I’m up to,” Peeta pipes up. “If I was you I would be keeping a closer eye on Finnick. I overheard him earlier trying to convince Gloss to help him start a human pyramid tonight with the patrons.” “Oh bloody hell, not again,” Haymitch curses. “Damn kid.” He turns to leave in a maddening fluster before he unexpectedly turns back around and looks over to Katniss. His features soften. “You sure you’re alright there, sweetheart?” Katniss is taken back by his complete 180. But she feels touched by his momentary concern for her and nods her head. He mirrors her action. “Good. Don’t worry about the asshole from earlier. Security roughed him up pretty good so if you decide to participate tonight he won’t be in there.” “Thank you,” she stammers out. Her mouth suddenly feels like it’s home to a ball of cotton wool. “Let’s go Jo, you’ve got people waiting too.” Jo gives Katniss one final glare, following it up with a devilish smile before she strolls out of the room after Haymitch, swinging her hips seductively. Once they’ve both gone, Katniss turns to Peeta with a relieved smile and exhales a long, shuddering breath. She’s not sure what to make of both of them. “That went surprising well,” Peeta states cheerfully. “They usually don’t converse easily with people they’ve just met.” “I thought that Jo woman was going to kill me,” Katniss comments wryly. She looks down and is not surprised that Peeta still has a tender hold of her arm. “You don’t need to worry about Jo. She’s like that with everyone, especially when you first meet her,” he explains. “It’s no excuse, but her life hasn’t been an easy one.” Katniss nods, although she’s not sure what to say to that and she doesn’t think it’s her place to comment on it. The electricity that was running between them earlier has dimmed due to the interruption, but Katniss can still feel the exciting hum running through her veins. And for now it will have to do. “Well I guess I better let you get out there and do your…thing,” she says almost shyly. She can’t believe after all the naked bodies she’s seen drifting in and out of this place so far tonight that she’s still feeling a little uncomfortable. “Yeah,” Peeta agrees but his face clearly says he’s not ready to leave. Hesitantly, he lets go of her arm and Katniss relishes in the fact her arm now feels warm and tingly like his aura is still with her. “I really hope to see you again soon,” he says softly. “You will,” Katniss assures him. Even if she had a busy schedule for the next 5 years she would already be clearing it and planning on coming back tomorrow. Wild horses couldn’t keep her away now. But she doesn’t want to voice her plans out loud to him, afraid she’ll come off lonely and desperate. “When you go out to the foyer, go and see Annie at the ticket counter,” he instructs. “Tell her I sent you and she’ll call you a cab.” “Oh no you don’t have to do that –” “Please I insist. After everything that’s happened tonight I’ll feel much better knowing you got home safely.” She’s touched by his sweet gesture and she would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t turned on by his chivalrous manner. “Bye, Katniss,” he mutters. Reaching the door he turns back around, his smile bright but his eyes shaded with a hint of hesitancy, like he’s worried he won’t ever see her again. She wants to reiterate and reassure him that he will, but he turns around and leaves before she can get her mouth and brain to cooperate. After the door closes unceremoniously behind him, the whole place is filled with a deafening silence. The only sound she can hear is the click clack from her high heels as she steps out into the change room and takes in the empty space. She’s alone and every locker is closed tight. All except one, she realises. The locker that Cato had a key to. The compartment door is wide open like someone left it in a hurry…or they were pulled away from it abruptly. She can’t help but wander over to it, contemplating. In a way it feels like a lifetime ago she was standing right in this spot next to Cato. She thinks so much has happened since then and she feels different. It’s a good kind of different though, one she thinks she’ll have a hard time putting into words, but she knows she has Peeta to thank for her potential new outlook. Tonight definitely hadn’t gone the way she imagined or planned for herself, that’s for sure. It was a disaster in a lot of ways, but if she hadn’t come here with Cato she wouldn’t have met Peeta. And no matter how angry she wants to be about the events that led her here tonight, that part is like sunshine breaking through the dark clouds and brightening up her life. A delicious shiver runs down her spine just at the thought of Peeta and what he could be doing right now. She can’t deny she’s curious about what’s going on behind those closed doors. Her mouth starts to salivate and her pulse thumbs against her neck when she imagines what his body could look like. Is it identical to his twin’s? All broad shoulders and muscular chest? Does he have the distinct pelvic muscles that curve sharply into the letter V too? Not to mention the thought of him is bringing up their conversation from earlier. “And when you think about it you’re not alone. Everybody is out there bare, naked and vulnerable. All in the same boat without letting fear, prejudice or judgement be a part of them or the experience.” She really doesn’t want to go home, she suddenly realises. Not when the only thing waiting for her there is stone cold humiliation thanks to her unsuccessful date. She also doesn’t want to face the high probability that Prim couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning to talk to her and has already left an enthusiastic message pushing her for every single detail. Plus having to deal with the smugness from that asshole cat who will be looking down his nose at her and thinking, I knew you couldn’t do it. How’s that mouse’s wheel treating you? She shifts her attention to the door. The one that has a sign above it stating, Exhibition Entrance. In Katniss’ opinion it may as well have a large, flashing neon sign. Could she really do this? Step out of her comfort zone and be naked in front of all those people? But the most important question of all is - does she really want to do this? …….. Yes she does. She doesn’t think anymore, instead she just concentrates on the familiar and debilitating sensation of uncertainty leaving her body, like a heavy weight is lifting. Now all she hears is Peeta’s soothing words in her ears encouraging her over and over again like a broken record. Quickly, she takes off her shoes, unzips her dress and slips her underwear down and piles them into the locker. It’s a weird sensation, she thinks as what she’s doing begins to dawn on her. She’s now standing in a public place, stark naked where anybody could just walk in and see her. Her hands wring nervously in front of her and she feels her heart beating so hard against her rib cage it’s almost painful. I can do this. Remember you won’t be alone. Don’t be afraid. Time to step out of your comfort zone. You had a failed date tonight with the douchebag from hell, but you will experience something amazing tonight, Katniss Everdeen. Her hands shake slightly on the door knob until she conjures up another image of Peeta. His smile, his bravery and his wise words comfort her and push the nerves down again. As she stands there waiting to take her first steps into a brave new world, she suddenly feels like the most powerful woman on the planet. The unknown is exhilarating, like she’s free falling without a parachute. She opens the door with no hesitation and takes a determined step inside. The first thing she notices in the large, marble room is that it’s very quiet, to the point you could almost hear a pin drop. A few people standing nearby give her a brief glance before smiling kindly and turning back around to murmur about a model’s pose. But there’s no one leering towards her, making snide comments or yelling out obscenities about her body. It all seems muted and respectful. She works her way around the room slowly, becoming more aware by the second of how her body is moving; the insides of her bare thighs are brushing together and she can see her breasts are jiggling with every step she takes. She never really took the time to look at herself like this before. Gazing around she notes there are ten artists who are spread out across the entire floor. There’s no velvet ropes to separate or distinguish, but you can tell who they are as each of them are either standing or sitting down in different and elaborate poses that look so raw and beautiful it makes her stop mid step. She didn’t think a show like this could affect her so much, but there’s awe in her eyes and appreciation etched deep within her bones. She then feels a magnetic pull from somewhere deep inside, like she’s attached to something. The sensation leads her to the far corner of the room and she’s not surprised by who she finds. Peeta. She’s unable to see his full profile at first, only recognising the top of his head over the crowd that’s gathered to observe him. After a few minutes several people step aside and she’s able to move in for a closer look. She forgets how to breathe for a moment when her eyes fall upon his entire naked body. It is as she suspected - a masterpiece. An artwork that seems to have been carefully crafted and layered with love by the gods themselves. She always thought the human body was a weird construction with all its different parts and functions but watching Peeta now performing with all the grace and beauty of a ballet dancer and admiring how every muscle in his body can twist and turn into simple and complex shapes she now believes the body is truly a magnificent thing to behold. None of the artists are interacting with the patrons, each of them seem to be in their own little worlds performing and sharing their own beauty and abilities. Either way, Katniss still wants to be as close to him as humanly possible. She sneaks into a spot at the front and off to the side. Continuing to be mesmerised by the view of him, she watches as he changes the shape of his body as he curls his back and then brings it forward again before lifting his leg up high so it’s flexed and balancing straight in front of him. But it’s when he dips his head to the side that he catches a glimpse of her standing there in all her naked glory; his neutral expression drops and he loses his steadiness for a few seconds. She can’t help but feel excited at the clear effect she has on him. Very carefully, so the other patrons can’t see, he gives her a pleased grin before he twists his body into another position and sets his features back into his model persona. Everything is back to normal except his eyes. They’re staring straight ahead bright and alert, and dancing in delight that she’s here standing before him participating. She feels his heated gaze staring at her out of the corner of his eye and she knows he’s taking in her naked form. She feels a little self-conscious but considering she’s standing here with her brain brimming close to the edge with naked images of him that could fill an entire scrap book she thinks it’s only fair. This has got to be the strangest day of my life, Katniss thinks to herself weirdly. What a bizarre way to meet someone. He gives her a wink, like he can read her thoughts and their moment is over. He turns his body away so his back is to her and settles into a different pose. “Please tell me how on earth you made him break?” A rogue voice whispers, his disbelieving breath ghosting against the shell of her ear. She’s momentarily stunned for a moment that she was caught off guard by someone who’s standing in her personal space. Usually she has the hearing of a wild dog out on a hunt for a good feed, but not this time around it seems. She turns around to face the man with a scowl, wanting to find out what his deal is, when she’s left feeling gobsmacked. Again. Standing beside her is a very familiar looking man who’s identical to the one standing on display. Rye. Her shocked grey eyes travel across his well acquainted face before they drift down without warning to explore even more of him. Yep. Identical in every way. He coughs and the noise breaks her out of her dazed spell, bringing her back to her senses and forcing her to seek eye contact with a guilt ridden expression. His eyes are dancing around in playful delight and he gives her a knowing smirk. “You’d think staring at my brother for most of the night would have been more than enough…but maybe you haven’t had your fill…” “Rye, leave the poor girl alone,” a female voice cuts in and sighs loudly. “And leave your brother alone too, he’s trying to do his job. He doesn’t need you distracting him.” “I think this young woman right here is doing a good enough job for the both of us,” Rye smirks playfully. The woman then comes into Katniss line of sight and she tries not to stare too hard or lower her gaze. It’s the blond woman from the change rooms. “I’m sorry, we’re being so rude aren’t we? I’m sure you have no idea who we are.” Redness blushes the other woman’s cheeks and she holds out her hand in greeting. “I’m Delly and this is my fiancée Rye – who’s obviously Peeta’s twin.” “I’m the devilishly handsome one,” Rye cuts in and it makes Katniss laugh automatically, remembering what Peeta had said about his brother. She takes a step forward and shakes Delly’s hand and then his. “I’m Katniss.” What a weird circumstance to meet. Delly smiles. “Don’t pay any attention to this one. He’s just jealous,” she tells her and wraps an arm around Rye’s waist. He dips his head and looks down at her with a loving and charming smile. “He’s been trying to make Peeta laugh or fall over for the last 10 minutes with no success.” “The guy has no sense of humour when it comes to this. He’s acting like one of the Queen’s guards.” “He’s acting like this because he knows what you’re up to. He knew you would try and pull something like this, your brother isn’t stupid,” Delly explains and gives him a teasing pinch on his hip. She moves her attention over to Katniss and gives her a mischievous grin. “Maybe Katniss can pull it off because she has something that you don’t.” Rye scoffs. “Yeah and I’m sure I know what it is,” he replies dryly. Delly shakes her head at him with exasperation. “You’re impossible sometimes.” “Oh come on you love it,” Rye replies huskily, with hooded eyes. He leans down to give her a kiss on the lips, their tongues meeting slowly and languidly. Even though the three of them are standing together fully naked Katniss still feels like she’s standing in the middle of a private and intimate moment, and looks away. “So were you okay after that guy of yours left?” Rye asks carefully. His voice brings her attention back and she sees them both looking at her with joint concern. “From what I overheard, the guy sounded like a real piece of work.” “Oh, yes,” she stumbles, trying to get her brain working again. “Thank you for going to get Peeta. I really appreciate it. The night definitely didn’t turn out the way I was expecting.” “You poor thing,” Delly says. “There are so many bad ones out there, isn’t there? But it just makes you appreciate it more when you find a good one. Peeta is a good one,” she adds pretending to sound off handed, but her blue eyes are twinkling “He’s great. I’ve never met anyone like him before,” Katniss tells her with a smile and she feels Rye looking down on her with curious eyes. He looks exactly like Peeta, but they say the eyes are the windows to the soul and Katniss can see some differences. Rye seems like a bit of a larrikin, a carefree joker, where Peeta seems to have more of a sensitive and serious side. “I don’t think you need to play matchmaker here Dell,” Rye then pipes up. “I think the hook has already landed the big fish.” Without further ado, he gives Katniss a wink and says, “We’ll leave you alone so you can perve on my brother in private. You have my blessing.” She nods nervously, surprised that her intentions for Peeta seem to show as clear as day to his brother. She says her goodbyes and then looks over to Peeta who still has his back to her but he now has his knee up high and bent, while his back curls forward and his head is tucked into his chest. She decides to come back later so she doesn’t distract him again or get him in trouble. She strolls around the exhibition and views all the other artists on display. She watches Jo for a while, but only because her back is to the audience. She then finds herself standing in front of a man with bronze hair and green eyes the colour of water you would find on a tropical island. She has a funny suspicion that his name is Finnick as she swears she hears him whisper to the small group that has gathered, “Have you ever wanted to be a part of a human pyramid?” She walks off with a shake of her head and wonders off-handed where Haymitch could be. But throughout the night she can’t get away from or deny the heated and comforting gaze she feels following her around. Her skin feels alight with flames as she senses him watching and looking out for her. The butterflies in her belly are back and this time they’re flapping around in excitement counting down the minutes until she can talk to him again. Half an hour later and it’s like everything in the universe aligns and answers her prayers because when she’s back in the change rooms, zipping up her dress, she feels a warm presence behind her and the distinctive smells of cinnamon and dill that she’d smelled earlier. Unable to hide the excitement and confidence the evening has brought to her, she turns around and gives Peeta the biggest grin; she’s relieved to find him beaming back. “You were incredible,” he states in awe. “I couldn’t believe that you’d really gone out there. I thought for a moment I was seeing things,” he laughs. “How do you feel? Are you okay?” “I’m feeling pretty damn good,” she answers back with a proud smirk. “You were amazing too, by the way.” “Thank you,” he nods, the tops of his ears turning pink. He pauses for a moment before speaking again. “Um, so I was thinking, if you’re not in a hurry to get home that is, maybe we could go out for coffee, talk about the show…or anything really.” “I would love to, but I don’t drink coffee,” she states firmly. “Oh…um, okay…” he pauses, looking crestfallen. “I could go for a hot chocolate though,” she offers alternatively and gives him a wink. She doesn’t know where this new and sudden boldness of hers is coming from but she thinks she likes it. “I know a great bakery around the corner that’s open late.” His shoulders sag in relief, and his eyes twinkle. “I believe I’m familiar with the place you’re thinking of,” he says, offering his hand. Without further thought, she gently places her hand in his, admiring the warmth radiating from his palm and the rough texture of his fingers wrapped securely around hers. They fall into step, walking alongside each other in comforting silence as they move across the spacious floors of the gallery. Outside she sees the bright neon sign of the Mellark Bakery flashing and suddenly realizes she’ll have an amazing story to share with Prim and her stupid cat tomorrow. Not only did she find the courage to walk around naked in front of complete strangers, but she also managed to meet a nice guy and go on a date. But the most satisfying thing out of this is that she was able to accomplish all this by herself, with no safety net or comfort zone. Tonight had brought her confidence, and a sense of fun that had been missing from her life. As they step inside the warmth of the bustling bakery, something tells her there’s a good chance she could become addicted to the free fall of a comfort zone free life, and fully exploring the possibilities of what life has to offer. Because even after only one night of taking that leap of not knowing where she was going to land, she’s already found Peeta. And she can only imagine what she can possibly accomplish with him by her side.
10737090	a kiss is just a kiss	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by mollivanders", "chapters": "9/9", "completed": "2017-06-10", "published": "2017-04-26T00:00:00", "words": "5,841", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Minor Injuries, Scars, Kissing, Caretaking, Sickfic, Sick Character, Established Relationship, Comfort/Angst, Serious Injuries, Hurt/Comfort", "Relationship": "Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "collected rebelcaptain prompt-a-thons, collected tumblr mini-fills", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Star Wars - All Media Types, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	for anghraine In a swift movement, Cassian links an arm around her waist to throw her. She falls hard on the training mat with a frustrated noise, cursing her mistake. A soft whoop echoes from the soldiers congregating in a corner but she ignores it, curling back up into a defensive posture. A smile is playing at his lips and she narrows her eyes in determination. She is absolutely not going to let him get away with this.A few months ago, she’d have had him on his back in no time. (At least he’s learning.)No words pass between them as they circle each other, their breath escaping in short puffs. In a moment, she spots a weakness and lunges to the side, nimble hands pitching him past her, and he turns around, trying to duck away. He parries her attack and she turns, calculating, and dives to his left, hooking his leg behind her and throwing him over. He lands with a thump and rolls away before she can keep him down.A soft murmur spreads through the crowd and she blows the hair out of her face.“Focus, captain,” she says, and sees something dark and warm swimming in his eyes. Her body thrums, alive with anticipation, and she’s sure she looks the same to him. He steps alongside her, move for move, his center of gravity balanced this time, and lands a hit on her side. She stumbles across the mat, catching her feet and pivoting to right herself.She’s breathing hard, sweat falling into her eyes, dancing on the balls of her feet. The match grows in intensity, and she steps closer, landing a hit for every one that he wins in turn. But years of living on the edge of her wits give her the advantage and she ducks low, seizing her moment. Cassian lets out a strange noise as she sweeps his feet out from under him and she lands on him, pinning him to the mat.A faint struggle – a tense breath – and then he relents, his body liquid under hers.“Salud,” he says and she grins as excited murmurs and a tittle of laughter run through the crowd. “Though I think you prefer the audience.” She lends him a hand, helping him back up, and sways under their combined weight.“Didn’t even notice them,” she says, still grinning. He is very tall next to her, her senses hyperaware of his every movement. “Done?”They head back to their quarters. She rolls her shoulders, stretching them out as Cassian punches in the entry code. He follows her in and she peels off her training clothes – sore, aching from the match, but more relaxed for the practice.Cassian frowns, taking her in. “I didn’t think I hit you that hard,” he murmurs. She frowns in surprise and cranes her neck to see where he’s looking. “You didn’t,” she says. She’d felt that one when she’d fallen on the mat. “I didn’t land very well, that’s all.”“I’m sure you did,” he says, and she jumps as he traces the offending mark. A soft noise escapes her as he leans down to kiss the bruise, the tender flesh oversensitive to his touch. “Still,” he adds, his fingers fluttering over her skin in wistfully light touches, “I’m sure I can make it better.”She turns to face him, tugging him closer, and smiles brightly at the look on his face.“We’ll see,” she says, and pulls him in the direction of the shower. Finis ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- for jenniferjuni-per She, Chirrut and Baze were holding out their corner so the rebels inside could escape when she sees a limp and unresponsive Cassian being dragged away by some stormtroopers.For a moment her heart stops.(And then she’s running.)She punches her way out of the corner, yelling at Chirrut to cover her, and ducks low as his bowcaster sprays a path before her. Her fists come faster and faster, shoving soldiers and fleeing civilians out of her path, until she caught up with Cassian. There isn’t any time to breathe, no time to rest, before she’s pulled out her truncheons and beats the life out of them. They fall, small crumples at her feet, and she drops down next to where Cassian has fallen.She can’t carry him alone.“Cassian!” she yells over the din of the street fight, and yells it again until he groans, coming to. There’s a nasty bump on his head and who knows what other injuries.“Jyn?” he asks, and forces his eyes open. It’s an effort. “What happened?”“We need to retreat,” she instructs him, and mercifully the rebels have finally made it out of the building. Chirrut and Baze and working their way towards her, shooting back at an approaching AT-AT, and with a grunt she pulls Cassian to his feet. “I need you to run, okay?” she asks, knowing that’s too much to hope for but hoping whatever it is, it’ll be enough.(She’s not leaving him.)He murmurs an affirmative response and then they’re hobbling more than running to where their extraction ship has hovered down, ramp open and waiting.Later, after the ship’s doctor has finally checked him out and Jyn has fended off the medical droids, Cassian fixes her with a stern look.“That was reckless,” he says and he looks older than his twenty-six years.She can’t look at him – won’t. Instead, she takes his hand and squeezes it.“I had to,” she finally says. “Not when there was a chance you were still alive.”She feels the sharp intake of his breath and shuts her eyes, fighting back the urge to cry. Not today, not when they had all made it, and not when he hadn’t been taken away to some unknown Imperial base. She desperately wants to curl up next to him, to hear the steady beating of his heart and the familiar timbre of his voice but holds herself back. His hand tightens around her own and her eyes fly open as he lifts her hand to his lips.“Thank you,” he says, dropping one kiss on her knuckles, and then another, “for coming to get me.”Her hands are cracked and bloody from where she’d fought her way through stormtrooper armor and filthy from the street fighting. She locks eyes with him as he takes her other hand and kisses it in turn. Something inside her breaks into a half-sob. She shuts her eyes, hands curling around his, and takes a deep breath to fight off a fresh wave of tears.“I thought I’d lost you,” she says, barely a whisper, and opens her eyes again. Cassian shakes his head, serious as ever, and she holds her breath.“Not with you around, apparently,” he says and she squeezes his hands. “No,” she says, her voice shaky, and sniffles. “No,” she repeats more firmly. The hint of a smile plays at his mouth and his thumbs rub soothing circles along her hands.“Do you think,” he asks, and she braces herself, “you could sneak me out of here too?”A half-laugh escapes her and she steals a look around the medbay. The ship’s doctor is busy with another patient and the droids are all engaged.“I’ll see what I can do,” she says.The look he gives her is reward enough. Finis ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- for leralynne She learned a long time ago she was not built for self-consciousness.(Self-awareness, Kay might say.)There wasn’t space for it on the run, or among Saw’s partisans, or even in the brief homes she had shared with her parents. In those lives, there was no time for it either. Instead, you learned efficiency, expediency, and above all, security. Still, there is something in the way Cassian looks at her that makes her feel alive in ways she’s never known; ways that make her feel exposed and safe all at once. On the battlefield, she knows him – feels the tilt of his presence next to her and depends on it in spite of all of Saw’s lessons and her own instincts. Other places – those are hers, and his, and theirs alone.(He hasn’t let her down yet.)Years stretch over them, and somehow they keep surviving. They steal moments and lives and freedom and somehow, still, she yearns for something more. She aches for something she has never known and tries to gift it to him in pieces and parts, puzzled out between them.Somehow, despite her self-doubt and her fears and her instinct to run – he seems to think it is enough.(And still – he takes her by surprise.)Once, when the sun was stealing into their quarters in hazy pockets of light, they had lingered over the dregs of victory. She had rested her face on the pillow, arms wrapped around it, as Cassian traced the scarred edges of her back with the tips of his fingers.She has never known this kind of luxury.“Are these from Rishki?” he asks, running his finger down a patch of scars the stretch from her shoulders down her spine. His voice is scratchy with sleep and she shakes her head, an old memory bubbling to the surface. “Wobani. Cat tails. Rishki was before.”His hand stills over her but before she can turn to look at him, he’s slid around to face her back, the sheet tangling at his waist. His hands brace near her chest and she can feel his heartbeat where his pulse point touches her own. She holds her breath for a long moment before he stretches over her and dips a kiss at the top of the scar. He pulls away then presses another kiss to her, and then another, down the length of the scar and back up again. The scar is years old, damaged flesh long puckered over, but she feels every millimeter of skin between Cassian’s lips. His mouth drags a hollow along her back as she clutches the pillow tighter and her toes curl.He’s asked before, about Wobani and Rishki and all the other places she’s broken out of. It’s almost foreign to him, a spy whose life revolved around not getting caught, though she knows he’s seen it from the other end. His palms burn bright stars next to her and his thumbs brush against the curve of her breasts as she arches back into him. She’s coiled, a tense spring ready to pounce, when he kisses a wet mark into the base of her spine and she groans, burying her face in the pillow.“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, suspended above her, and she shakes her head, turning under him. His hands find hers, angled by her head, and she locks gazes with him.“I want to see your scars,” she says.The look he gives her is entirely new. Finis ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- nonny ask There is always a hall, in every Rebel base, that is dedicated to the memory of fallen soldiers. Every time they have had to flee a base, they leave their comrades behind again and start anew. It makes her wary of the hall and she avoids it when she can, filled with holos and printouts and medals of rebels who died fighting the Empire. Saw had trained her to never look back. The more you thought about the dead, he’d explained, the more you thought about the cost of war, and the harder it would be to go back into battle – at least, for some.As time goes by, Jyn is starting to realize that Cassian is not one of them.She hasn’t known him to be melancholy but when they pass the memorial hall, he slows his steps and takes in the pictures of the missing and dead. She doesn’t know if he’s looking for someone in particular; it’s not something she feels privileged to ask. The Rebellion is filled with brothers-in-arms but Cassian doesn’t seem particularly close to anyone. He doesn’t have friends in the usual way, although there are fellow spies who he seems to respect more than others.So despite herself – despite years of Saw’s training and her own instincts – she stops avoiding the hall. She stops taking the longer routes around it to get where she is going and she takes in the memorabilia left behind. She doesn’t often see those she recognizes – she is both too new to the Rebellion and too isolated within her own cadre – but she becomes more familiar with the faces and the lives they left behind.One afternoon she’s lingering longer than usual, studying the face of a woman who doesn’t seem much older than her when her skin prickles in alarm. A moment later, familiar arms circle around her from behind and she lets out a tense breath.(There is only one who would dare.)“Do you recognize someone?” Cassian asks and she tilts her head back to look at him. He’s taking in the wall, his sharp eyes cataloging people like missing inventory, and she shivers, tugging his arms tighter around her. His eyes drop, meeting hers, and she looks back at the wall.“No,” she says and leans into him. He hums noncommittally and follows her sightline. She’s never asked before, but perhaps now is the time. “Do you recognize anyone?”“Yes,” he says, his tone suggesting only brevity. “I always do.”He’s been in this fight since he was six years old, she thinks and wants to kick herself. His body is still relaxed around her though, no hint of the affront she’d once pushed him to. “Saw would never have done this,” she says, and points at a list of the newly missing and killed. “He said it was bad for morale to dwell on the dead. We never looked back.”Cassian rests his chin atop her head and she shuts her eyes.“Was there someone you lost?” he asks, his voice so low she doubts any of the passing soldiers could hear him if they strained but her lungs seize and she freezes in his arms. He senses it instantly, his arms securing her more closely, and she tries to track his even breaths to restart her own. Mayla, fourteen. Denis, cragged and patient. Pavis, the one who woke screaming in the night. “It helps,” he says, since she cannot seem to speak, “to remember them. If you have someone to remember.”(So many losses, of so many different kinds, and she wants to scream.)Instead, she takes a shaky breath and blinks her eyes clear.“If I go,” she says, “put me up there, will you?”His arms tighten almost painfully around her, his head drops next to hers, and she can feel his heartbeat pounding through her chest.(He never answers.) Finis ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- for ruby-red-inky-blue She drags him to the medbay two days after they get back from Trigalis, a swamp planet she’d never even heard of before this mission. Cassian had reacted badly to everything on the planet and it isn’t until the cough settles in his lungs that he relents and goes with her.(However reluctantly.) “I shouldn’t be here,” he grumbles, casting looks around at soldiers being treated for serious injuries. Ignoring him, she gently pushes him back onto the cot, keeping an eye out for a medical droid. “You’re staying,” she says and frowns as he bends over again, an alarming crackling in his lungs as he coughs.“Yes, ma’am,” he agrees, leaning back against the propped pillows. “Just don’t leave me here.”The 2-1B diagnoses Cassian with the early stages of a lung infection and orders bed rest for seven days. Cassian looks at her in horror and she shrugs. “Take it up with Draven,” she says, privately relieved. “You’re marked as ‘contagious’ in your file. You may as well get some rest.”“You may also be exposed,” the 2-1B informs her and Cassian’s eyes widen in alarm. She waves the droid away with the promise that if symptoms appear, she’ll report to the medbay immediately, unlike some people. She’s always been sturdy, and if she hasn’t caught it by now, she’ll risk it.(After all, someone has to look after Cassian.)He leans on her heavily during the walk back to his quarters, coughing at uneven intervals, and the knot of worry around her heart tightens. Festian or not, he shouldn’t be in the cold like this. Inside his quarters, she ramps the heat up as high as the system will allow and puts in an order for a delivered meal. He’s sick; he’s entitled.“I feel like hell,” he announces, swaying on the edge of the bed and looking up at her.“Well,” she says, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrow at him, “maybe you should get in bed.”He groans in frustration and flops back as if bed rest is the worst order he could have to follow. She rolls her eyes and crosses the room to tug his boots off.“Jacket,” she instructs and he sits up, shrugging out of it. She’d rather that he stays warm under several layers but he’ll never sleep like that. Instead, she digs out the second blanket she’d left her one night and stretches it over him. He sighs happily, pulling it tighter, and she wants to roll her eyes again.(Instead, something she can’t name tugs at her heart.)“Take your meds,” she instructs, her voice softer than expected, and sits next to him with a cup of water. He studies her as he gulps the treatment down and leans back into his pillow. “Thanks,” he murmurs, reaching out to cover her hand with his own. He startles, about to take it back, perhaps concerned he will infect her, before she turns her hand over under his and clasps it. He looks like he wants to say something more but a cough breaks from his chest and he turns, covering his mouth.“Yeah,” she says, struggling for words herself. When he sits back up he looks exhausted and truly sick. “You’re going to be okay,” she adds, and brushes the hair back from his face. They’d barely slept on the mission, three days spent back to back in the wilderness, and she’s honestly not surprised he got sick. He looked like hell before whatever strange sickness got to him. They all did.(But he deserves the rest more than all of them combined.)On impulse, she leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. His hand finds her waist on instinct but he pulls back almost instantly, frowning. “You’re going to get sick,” he complains and she shrugs, tracing the line of his law before dropping her hand.“I don’t care,” she says. She really doesn’t.(She really hates seeing him like this.)“Well don’t say I didn’t warn you if do,” he says – but for all his warnings there is a light in his eyes that has nothing to do with his illness.“Don’t worry,” she says, cupping his face in her hands again. His features soften just a little and he tilts his head back up to her. “I won’t.” She bends down and as his eyes falls shut she steals another.(She’s sturdy. She’ll hold up for them both.) Finis ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- for irhinoceri He’s been away from base for weeks and now that he’s back – now that he’s home - he just wants to head straight for his quarters. He can’t remember the last time he slept and more pressingly, the last time he ate, but he’s sure K2 has a record somewhere. Instead, practiced professionalism holds him together at the seams. He crosses the hangar with weary but even steps, his pack slung over his shoulder.(A steady thrumming in his chest calls out to him, a beacon home.)He trusts he’ll find her. These days, he no longer worries that she won’t be here when he gets back. Even if she’s not here, he trusts she is just out of arm’s reach, even if that reach stretches across the galaxy to sabotage or cripple the Empire. He used to worry, used to dread every mission that sent them apart, and tucked that worry deep inside where it couldn’t distract him.(It turned out that she’d stopped worrying before he did, and the thought warms him.)His feet follow a familiar path towards headquarters, a steady trudge through the fresh snow that always seems to accumulate within the base, as he checks off a mental list of everything he needs to do before day’s end. There isn’t much – but more than he’d like. And then suddenly, he freezes.She’s there, standing at the end of the hallway. She hasn’t spotted him yet. She's busy talking to someone – one of the new Pathfinder trainees – and his heart beats a hollow rhythm within his chest as he waits for her to see him. He can almost read her lips from this distance – something about a new maneuver – when she throws her hands in the air, her body tilting with the motion, and her eyes lock with his.She stops talking mid-sentence and the trainee stares at her in confusion before she mumbles something to him, waving him away. He doesn’t think he could tear his eyes off her if he tried. Slowly, he starts moving to her and she turns to face him fully, her breath coming in short puffs that gather in the frozen air. Soldiers and aides pass him in a rush, and somewhere down the hall, he can hear the edges of an argument.None of it matters.When he reaches her, he drops his pack and gathers her into a fierce hug, pulling her up on her toes, and she makes a noise that burrows its way inside him. He can’t seem to let go and he catches fragments of her relief against his chest, her fingers curled tight against him. She’s holding him so tightly it feels as though she’ll never let go either, as if this will always be, and he snaps back into reality. When they slide apart, the hallway chatter coming back into focus, their arms stay looped around each other. Her eyes are dry but very red and he guesses he might look the same.“I’m glad you’re home,” she says, voice hoarse, and swallows past the lump in her throat. She looks brighter than he remembered and he studies her, memorizing this moment for all the others that come after. His eyes crinkle at the corners and he ducks his forehead against hers.“Jyn,” he says, his voice a breath of hope, and she smiles with unmuted joy, leaning back up to him.(He’s ready for her kiss when it comes.) Finis ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- for greenfleeze / phoebe_snow As their feet crunch across the sands of the desert moon, Cassian listens for the rhythm of Jyn’s steps and berates himself in the same breath. They have what they needed – an audience with Saw. He doesn’t need her anymore.(And yet – he can’t stop thinking about her.)It’s a long walk from NiJedha to whatever hole the old rebel has dug himself into and Cassian feels the passage of the day in how the sun slopes over his back. The hood over his head muffles most details but all the same, he keeps track of Jyn. She is a few paces in front of him, her shorter steps stumbling over the faster pace their captors set, but she doesn’t protest or complain. She’d said her piece back at the city; he supposed she was done.(And yet – she could have cast the rest of them off, seized her moment, taken her chances alone. She hadn’t. Instead, she’d claimed them as friends and for now, for another day, they lived.)In the meantime, he has nothing but his thoughts to occupy him, and despite himself, they linger on her. They linger on the way she had rushed into the street to protect a lost child, they linger on the way she had called out his name before taking on a cadre of stormtroopers, they linger on how close she had stayed.He shuts his eyes under the hood, trying to right his thoughts.He never quite manages.+The flight back from Eadu isn’t long – only a few hours – but he spends most of it away from the motley collection he’d amassed, Jyn’s words ringing in his ears. He isn’t sorry – he wouldn’t take any of it back – but her words have curled their way inside him. Without a task to occupy himself, he keeps thinking of how she looked as she crossed him, how she had stood her ground and had struggled to speak at all, the cold shaking them to their bones, how the water had dripped in a tap – tap – tap around them, the tension in their bodies primed to explode.He must make a frustrated noise because K2’s golden eyes swivel onto him and he glances over from the corner of his eye.“What?” he asks sharply and K2 looks away again. He doesn’t often solicit input from his only companion but for once he’d like some conversation, something normal, to take his mind off Jyn and the fury sliding off of her.Suddenly, he recognizes the longing ache within him. He wants to talk to Jyn again.Ridiculous.(And yet – she stays at the edge of his thoughts, from when they land to when he reports to Draven to when she marches off with Bodhi. She stays.)+“I’m not used to people sticking around when things go bad,” she says, her eyes smiling as much as her lips, and he finds himself leaning in, eager and young once more. “Welcome home,” he says, surprised to find himself smiling in turn, and if there was a moment, this is it. He wasn’t sure she would even listen when he showed up but he’d heard her in the Council room. Rebellions are built on hope. The mantra he’d passed to her had spilled out of her mouth and he’d known – known that the Council would not listen and yet known that there was hope after all. His words, returned to him, had propelled him out of the Council room and back to his old comrades, pulling together enough to punch through Scarif.If hope was all they had, then hope would have to be enough.(And yet – something holds him back. That same lingering hope, a promise that the Rebellion was not in vain, whispers wait across the space between them.) She is just out of reach, a spark ready to light, and he holds back.It’s not the time.But in the dead hours between Yavin IV and Scarif, his thoughts slide back between strategy and hope. She lingers, still, in the small spaces between his fingers, and he feels her edging closer, startles at her touch and checks to see if anyone has noticed.For now, he puts the future away.+At this point, he can barely stand. He knows she’s supporting him, struggling under the weight of her damaged leg, and he leans against the elevator door.Suddenly, she is close – much closer than she’s ever been – and the shattered memory of her steps across Jedha, her bottled fury on Eadu, her delirious hope on Yavin IV all jumble together in a single moment as she meets his eyes. He’s just thinking that he can’t breathe properly, even without his ruined lung, when she licks her lip, ending in a hesitant bite.After all the words he’s thrown at her, he’s sudden bereft and can only shift himself closer, giving her an opening. It’s enough.(She reaches up, her mouth finding his in a messy tumble and he falls against her, eyes sliding shut as her arms cradle him. His own words call back to him – welcome home – and he leans into her, urgent and promising, before a pained groan breaks the kiss.Something inside him breaks in protest.)For all the things he cannot do, for everything he cannot have, he chooses this moment. He keeps his eyes on her, their expectant hope dying out between them.(And yet – ) Finis ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- for imsfire2 “Careful, sergeant,” the 2-1B warns her. “Over forty percent of his body is recovering from severe chemical burns. Prolonged contact with an unsanitized entity could still send his system into shock.”Cassian stares up at her, thin breaths escaping his lips, and gives what looks like a painful version of a casual shrug. She tries to smile at him, scraping her fingers against her palms, but the panic of the last five days has still not subsided. “Thanks for getting me here,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, and the 2-1B makes a stressed whirring noise.“At least you still have your looks,” she tries to joke and the corner of Cassian’s mouth pulls up. He’s only been out of the bacta for a few hours, and going back in soon after a doctor assesses his progress.“Thanks for pulling me away from the vat,” she whispers, counting backwards from a thousand by sevens to keep from crying. She hasn’t cried as much in her life as she had in the last five days and somehow is still not out of tears. “I appreciate it.”He’d been covered in the mystery chemical the Empire was brewing, only saved by covering his face so that he didn’t inhale any. The powder had scattered everywhere, creating a painful rash which grew into deep burns the longer it maintained contact. It had to be removed quickly, and thoroughly.(They hadn’t been quick enough.)She thinks of how he had pushed her out of the way, had fallen off balance and into danger himself, and how her hands had burned when she pulled him back, crying out with pain. Whatever she had felt, he had felt a thousand times worse, and now, she couldn’t even comfort him.“Alright, Captain Andor,” a cheerful doctor says, bustling over. “It looks like you’re headed back for the bacta tank.”“How much longer?” he groans, stealing a look at Jyn that she doesn’t miss, and fear laces her heart once more. “Well now,” the doctor says, looking at her datapad, “you have tissue damage to approximately fifteen percent of your body left, though nothing so serious as what you came in with!” Jyn stares, baffled at this very un-soldierlike doctor. “Another two days, at least.”“Is he going to need assistance after that?” Jyn asks, interrupting, and the doctor tilts her head. “That’s likely,” she says, “though I must say you’re doing much better than I expected. We can figure all that out later,” she adds, noticing that Cassian is already dozing off, exhausted from the short interaction. “Either way, back to the bacta tank with you!”She must be wearing all her emotions openly because the doctor clears her throat awkwardly and adds in a gentle tone, “you can say goodbye, dearie, but he’s in good hands.”Careful, sergeant, the droid had warned her. Desperately, she scans his face, relaxed in sleep as it never was awake, and feels her heart clench. Quickly, gingerly, she leans down and presses a soft kiss upon his closed eyes, casting a prayer into the unknown. The doctor hums as she walks by, giving Jyn a reassuring squeeze of the arm which she cannot acknowledge.(When they put him back in the bacta tank, she finds her usual chair. And she waits.) Finis ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- for letthepeoplesay-oh He hadn’t seen her in almost two months. While the days had settled like an anvil on his heart, he wouldn’t normally be worried. After three years, she’d done her share of deep covers with no problems.But Jyn – Jyn was still Jyn. Unpredictable, prone to improvisation, and fond of trouble.He spots her across the hall, dangling on the arm of the older Imperial officer she’d been tasked with. It had taken her three weeks to even get close to him and then she’d had to balance earning his trust with keeping him at arm’s length to draw out the operation. Jyn wasn’t the first choice for the mission either – it was the sort of mission Princess Leia might have been tasked with, before – but beggars couldn’t be choosers.(And the Rebellion was sure as hell the galaxy’s biggest beggar.)He’s here to extract intel and determine if the mission needs to be extended, though he had volunteered for personal reasons as well. The captain he’s talking with at this reception barely gets half his attention (though the younger man barely notices, dazzled by the infamous Captain Willix emerging from deep cover).“Who are you serving under?” Cassian asks, taking a sip from the fluted glass a server had passed him and sneaking glances at Jyn. She’s not looking at him but his skin prickles at the way she’s holding herself – taller, shoulders squared, balancing on the balls of her toes.She’s seen him.“Under Admiral Piett,” the captain says, practically beaming. He’s in charge of – ”“Yes, Executor,” Cassian drawls. “I’m familiar.” He pauses an appropriate length of time and cocks his head in casual interest. “Is he here?”The captain points over at Jyn’s companion and Cassian frowns appreciatively. “Looks like he’s busy,” he says and the other man shakes his head. “No, no,” he argues, “he’d be happy to meet you. Let me introduce you.”Piett is barely interested in Willix – a captain could hardly hold his attention, even as a spy – but they linger, joining the social circle.“The Emperor will be quite pleased,” Piett says, rejoining his previous conversation as Cassian turns to Jyn.“I don’t believe I’d had the pleasure,” he says as she offers him her hand. He lifts it to his lips, pressing a genteel kiss to the edges of her knuckles, and almost smiles at the flush of her skin at his touch. He barely recognizes her, styled like an Imperial lady, but she wears it well.“Captain Willix,” she says with a strange accent, nodding. “Sorry, not familiar.”The data chip he’d slipped from her palm makes its way to his pocket. “No reason you’d be,” he says, turning it over in his pocket. “I’ve been in the Outer Rim.” There is a coded time and location stamped on the outside and he nods, confirming receipt. She smiles, shrugging.“There are so many officers,” she says with a purr, reaching for Piett’s arm, and Cassian’s stomach flips in empty jealousy. “I’m only a librarian, after all.”Later – after she’s shed her disguise and he’s kissed her properly, though not enough to make up for all those missing days – he tells her the good news.The Rebellion can decode the files she’s stolen. She can come home.(If he thought he’d missed her in his kiss, when she draws him back down the wet heat of her mouth sends him in a tailspin.They’re coming home.) Finis
10765401	A Prohibited Love	{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": null, "Characters": "Kim Namjoon \| Rap Monster, Kim Taehyung \| V, Park Jimin (BTS), Jeon Jungkook, Jung Hoseok \| J-Hope, Kim Seokjin \| Jin, Min Yoongi \| Suga", "Fandom": "방탄소년단 \| Bangtan Boys \| BTS", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by digitallyclouded", "chapters": "1/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-30T00:00:00", "words": "911", "Additional Tags": "Torture Scene, takes place sorta at the medieval times??, Hierarchy, jungkook is a smol, jimin is tough af, namjin if you squint, honestly jung hoseok needs to be protected, yoongi is cool, idk tbh im writing this as i go, i have no plans for this fanfic, i hope y'all enjoy this", "Relationship": "Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	"Oh my god, It's Jeon Jungkook!" The locals whispered as said man rode his horse across the town; accompanied with his sidemen. Jungkook felt a rising smirk, hearing the townspeople's frantic whispers. He should get used to this by know. After all, he was always a prince. One of his sidemen lightly nudged at his shoulder. "What was our intention of being here, instructed by the King?" he asked. Jungkook looks over to him. "I believe that we were supposed to collect a portion of salt, Minho. But for the moment, I want to explore this area." he said. "Jungkook-nim, you do know that you were not obligated to come with us, right?" Minho said. "Yes, I'm aware of that. However, it was my own choice to explore and not be locked into that castle," Jungkook glares at the other. "And in what position are you in to ask me a question like that?" Minho turns his gaze away and lowers his head. Jungkook grunts acknowledge. "Sorry, I didn't mean to act harsh." He apologizes. "No, no. I should be sorry. You are too kind for your own good." Jungkook chuckles. He knows. Many of those from royalty were abundantly harsh to others. Jungkook didn't feel the need to act the same. He always had a will to explore, and hated staying in that rotting castle; especially with his father. Jungkook turns his horse to the side briefly. Minho abruptly stopped, startled. "Your majesty?" Jungkook completely turns his horse around. "May you and the others collect the salt and report back? I would like to see more of this town." Minho smiles. "Of course, however, please bring one of the men with you." Jungkook nodded, and gestured for one of the other men to follow him. They both mindlessly ride their horses around town, ignoring the stares they received. There were country-like sides of the town, city-like, and a combination of both. While he was looking more around the city-like area, one man caught his eye. He was so beautiful to Jungkook. He looked rebellious, dirty, and careless. All the man had was a bag on his back, and was with a group with other men. However, to Jungkook, that didn't matter. His features were enough for his eyes to dwell on. The man was quite short, which got rid of his 'tough' look. With the glance of his face, he could make out a structured jawline, puffy lips, and a perfect side profile. They both make eye contact, and the man runs off. "Your Majesty? Are you alright?" his sideman asked. Jungkook shakes his thoughts off and looks to the area the man ran off to. "I'll go in that direction, I want to buy something from that shop." He says, before riding his horse into the path of the man. That's when he turns a left, he is met with just the man, sitting alone with his bag to his side. Jungkook gets closer, and starts to see some wounds. "Hey, are you okay? What happened to you?" He asked the man. The man glares up towards Jungkook, but his glare quickly turns into surprise. "Y-You're-" His words get cut off in his throat. "Yes, yes. I'm the Jeon Jungkook." he said. The man's face expression didn't change from surprised. A minute or two later, he shook his head roughly. "I'm s-sorry! Uhh, my name is Park Jimin by the way." Jungkook chuckled at his shyness. He got off his horse and knelled to Jimin, and took out his hand. "Do you want help?" Jungkook asked. Jimin's eyes traced to his hands onto Jungkook's eyes before taking his hand and hoisting himself up. "You know, you still haven't answered my question." Jungkook said. "Oh, yeah! Sorry. Uhh, I guess I'm fine, don't worry about it.." Jimin says, while dusting himself off. "Okay, now I'll need another answer.." Jungkook said, smirking. Jimin takes a look of confusion, then transitions to some form of acknowledgement. "I just.. fell. Onto wood. In the forest." he says. Jungkook looks him up and down and concludes; he's lying. He takes Jimin's hand and inspects the cuts and gashes. "I'm no expert, but I'm sure that these couldn't have been made by wood," He takes the rest of his forearm and leans into Jimin's ear, "There's no reason for you to be lying to me." Jungkook can feel the heat radiating off of Jimin's face, and lightly chuckles. He then lets go of his hand. "But for now, I'll find someone to tend to your wounds. Do you have a family or home to go back to afterwards?" he asked. "Y-yeah, but I don't want to cause trouble for you." Jimin said. Jungkook shook hid head. "No, no. You aren't causing me trouble. Now come on, I'm gonna take you to the nearest doctor." Jungkook stated. "But how am I going to pay-" Jimin started, "I'll pay for all the fees. Just make sure that you're home safe." Jungkook cut him off. He takes Jimin's hands once again and pulled him up onto his horse. He immediately clutches onto Jungkook's waist. "What? Never been on a horse before?" Jungkook teases. Jimin playfully pouts. "Well sorry, but not everyone was born with a silver spoon you brat!" Jungkook laughs and rides to the closest medical area. Each bump made Jimin clutch onto Jungkook tighter, and Jungkook loved the feeling. He wished the ride could last forever.
10794210	All Publicity is Good	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Lance (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron)", "Fandom": "Voltron: Legendary Defender", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by eugyne (AreteNike), eutrash (AreteNike)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2016-11-14T00:00:00", "words": "520", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, lance is a supermercenary, shiro used to be a villain, kinda a meet cute?? but not", "Relationship": "Lance & Shiro (Voltron)", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Life Less Ordinary", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Lance lives by his reputation. He's not a hero, nor a villain; but if you have the money, he'll work for you.More to the point, he won't work for you unless you have the money, which is why he’s a little pissed when some guy in a hero outfit--or a villain one, it’s hard to say, there's a lot of white for a villain though--just grabs him and tells him to come along to some disturbance downtown.“Aren’t you a hero too?” the guy asks.“You must be new around here,” says Lance. “I only work for money, dude.”“This is for the greater good!”A hero, then. “Yeah, don’t care. Good luck, though.”The guy has the audacity to purse his lips and look him up and down. “Nope. You’re coming with me,” he says, and grabs Lance by the wrist and drags him along. Geez, he’s strong--big deal, Lance can ice him over.Except he can’t.“The fuck’s up with your hand?” he asks, because it glows purple when Lance tries to use his powers--emphasis on tries.“Nullification,” the guy says shortly. Shit, didn’t there used to be a villain that could do that not that long ago?“Uh, who are you?”“Oh.” The guy looks away. Suspicious. “I, uh, haven’t come up with a name yet.” He’s leading them quickly down the street--civilians duck out of the way, staring.“Right,” Lance says, now slightly convinced he’s going to die. “Okay.”So, against his will, he arrives at the scene of the fight--which is still ongoing, despite that it took them several minutes to get here, which is definitely not a good sign. And a villain swoops by and he recognizes the guy, which is worse.This isn’t some petty squabble between supers, or like, civilian crime. This is an actual battle.“Get out there,” nullifier guy says, finally letting go of Lance’s arm. “I’ll be watching you.”Fantastic.But, apparently, so are a lot of civilians, behind windows, with their phones out. Hm.“If that’s what you want,” Lance says, smoothly, coldly, and he goes to town.See, he has a reputation--so that’s his first advantage: surprise. No one expects him to be here. They also don’t expect him to go all out. And they don’t know he’s positioning himself where the brave few with their cameras on will get, on occasion, a very good look at him.All publicity is good publicity, after all.Also he sees the guy that brought him here fight and oh, he definitely knows who he is now. He's listened to Hunk talk about his dossier project enough to figure it out.“You did better than I expected,” the guy says, when the battle is over and the villains subdued or chased off. “See? It’s never too late to turn your life around.”“If you say it, I believe it, Champion.”The former Champion stutters, but Lance just grins, throws an arm around his shoulders, and winks at a camera still glinting through a nearby window.“You’re right. Let’s do this again sometime.”
10701456	20 minutes til curtain	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Original Styles-Tomlinson Child(ren)", "Fandom": "One Direction (Band)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-22T00:00:00", "words": "3,033", "Additional Tags": "Fluff, Dunkirk, Family, Dad Harry, dad louis, Kidfic", "Relationship": "Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	“Jessa’s ballet recital is at six tonight,” Louis said, dunking his tea bag from his white mug, cursing softly as the tea sloshed onto the marble. Lips pursed, he stood from the laptop at the kitchen counter, rifling through the drawers, sucking his finger on his thumb where the tea was exceptionally hot when it had spilled onto his hand.“Bottom drawer beside the sink,” Harry’s raspy voice said, the speakers making his vocals sound even slower and deeper than usual. Louis squatted down, murmuring an Aha before he took out a dish towel, standing back up to mop up the spill, trying his hardest to not snap at Harry, whose lips were twitching slightly.“And I know, I’ll be there, love. Always am. She nervous?” Harry watched Louis clean up his spilled tea, his lips pursed in a small smile. Louis looked up at his laptop screen, rolling his eyes at Harry’s fond expression.“A little, but she’ll be fine. She’s like her Daddy, she’s got lots of confidence in her.”Harry smiled, and despite his clear exhaustion, it was real and genuine. It was early in France, but even earlier in London, the sun barely being able to beat through the dark morning clouds. The house was quiet, the girls still asleep, and Louis was happy to receive a video call from his husband despite the floor that was cold under his toes and his arms that were covered in goosebumps. He had on a pair of Harry’s flannel sweatpants and a grey t-shirt that was so worn in you couldn’t even read what it said on the front, but it was comfortable and the last thing Harry had thrown in the wash before he left to film, so Louis wore it anyway, despite the holes and the frayed strings.“You tired, bub? What time are you starting filming today?” Louis asked, taking in the lines on Harry’s face, his short hair sleep-rumpled, Louis able to tell he’d just taken a beanie off and decided against combing his hair out after. He still hadn’t exactly mastered how to style his short hair, even though it had been a few weeks since he’d chopped it. Unless he was home with his family, he preferred leaving it covered up by a beanie and a hood. He looked incredibly cozy, a grey sweatshirt pulled over his bulked-up frame, his eyes soft-looking, whether with peace or exhaustion Louis couldn’t quite tell. He wished the computer screen did Harry’s eyes justice.“Just finished, actually. M’meeting with some of the lads later on for the gym, and then I’m headin’ back to see you all after I eat lunch.”“Jesus, Harry,” Louis frowned, leaning forward on his arms. “You must be so tired. You have time to sleep? I’ll make sure to have the girls settled tonight so you can get some rest, petal.”“Nah,” Harry said, his smile easy. “I’ll be fine. M’taking my girls and my boy out to dinner tonight. Gotta celebrate the big performance.”He was in a completely different country, but that didn’t mean Harry wasn’t proud as hell of his girls. He pressed his finger to his home screen, his iPhone lit up to show a picture of their three daughters on the beach, matching swimsuits and their smiles wide. Louis was tanned and beautiful, their youngest curled up in his arms fast asleep. Harry couldn’t help the smile on his face as he looked at his proudest achievement.“I’ll let you go, baby. You should get the girls ready for school. Tell them I love them, yeah? And I promise I’ll be there tonight, bouquet of flowers and all. Tell Jess I’m so excited to see her.”“Yeah, yeah,” Louis said, sticking his tongue out. “I’ll see you soon, H. Keep me updated.”“Bye, honey,” Harry waved, leaning forward and showing all of his teeth in a smile. He was so cute, and even though Louis had seen him just last weekend, he missed his better half. Harry loved making promises, and he was pretty good at keeping them, too. To fans - he was always so good to his fans - so gentle and calm, but he tended to overexert himself to make them happy sometimes, whether it was spending long hours signing autographs outside his hotel at four in the morning, or adding new tour dates just because they wanted him to, and he never wanted to let down his fans. He loved promising his mother that he’d be home for important holidays, like Christmas and her birthday and Gemma’s birthday, and he usually was.This was no different when he became a husband, a father to three beautiful little girls. He was late-night cuddles, he was ice cream trips after school when their firstborn had a bad first day of kindergarten and Harry wanted to make her smile, even though it meant she wouldn’t eat her supper later. He was lying on his tummy in front of the TV with the three girls piled on top of him, pretending to be asleep while they giggled like mad into his ear. He was a patient and kind husband, taking Louis out for surprise dinner dates after ensuring the girls were safe at Gemma’s house for the night, being there for cuddles even long after Louis had fallen asleep, making breakfast and lunch for Louis and the girls so he wouldn’t have to stress himself out cooking for the four of them while Harry was out, whether he was touring or at a signing or at an event that he couldn’t miss out on. He was a high profile celebrity, yes, but he was also a father, and Harry took these two roles very seriously and made sure that neither part of his life filtered into the other one.Being a celebrity and a father brought on heavy challenges, challenges Louis and Harry would never have encountered if it was just the two of them. Louis knew Harry stressed himself out in order to make sure his family was safe. Their three girls were all under six years old - Jessa had just turned six, Angie was three, and little Lauren was only eight months old. All adopted, but that didn’t matter one bit, because Harry and Louis loved them with everything they had. Having three girls wasn’t exactly planned - Louis had always wanted a boy to play footie with in the yard - but their gender was out of their hands. They had been blessed with finding a surrogate to birth three beautiful babies, and they were so thankful every day to have them.But Harry was constantly in protective Dad mode, and it would be incredibly sweet if he wasn’t so nervous all the time. The girls going to his concerts was an absolute no - on occasion, Jessa could hang out backstage with Lou and Lux, but she and Louis would always leave before the show ended, because things were legitimately crazy afterward and Harry wasn’t going to risk anything happening to his family. Although Jessa complained about it, she usually fell asleep halfway through the show anyway, so Louis would rock her gently until they had the car ready to take them home. Harry wouldn’t relax after the show until he had a text from Louis reading Home safe. You did amazing babes, we love you so much. Drive safe xx. I’ll wait up for you. When Harry was chosen for Dunkirk, he felt a whirlwind of emotions, and the first person he called was Louis. Louis was slightly bewildered when he first received the call at two in the morning, Harry crying and sputtering, his voice garbled with excitement and maybe a few celebratory shots with the other men who’d been chosen.“I’m so fucking proud of you, you know that?” was the first thing Louis said when Harry had finally come home, his long hair scraggly and in desperate need of a wash - he’d probably been wringing his hands through it all day, a nervous habit. Louis launched himself into Harry’s arms, Harry spinning him around and stumbling into the wall, the two of them shushing each other and giggling all the same, their hands traveling all over one another, their lips hot and swollen.Louis knew saying goodbye to the girls was going to be difficult for his husband, even if Harry had done it countless times before. It would be different this time around - he wouldn’t be filming on the weekends, so he’d be home from Friday night to Sunday evening. Louis worried about the stress traveling so much would put his boy under, but Harry was adamant on being home as much as he could.“If I was single it would be a different story,” Harry had said. The two of them were sharing a mug of tea in the kitchen, Harry making sandwiches for the two older girls and getting a bottle ready for Lauren, testing the temperature out on his wrist. “But m’not. I’ve got you, and the girls. M’not letting you take care of them all on your own.”Louis looked down at the snoozing baby in his arms, kissing Lauren’s soft forehead, her tiny lips pursed and her long eyelashes fanning her face.It was the night before Harry had to leave. He’d be getting the train early, around five in the morning, and Louis swore he’d wake up to give him a kiss goodbye, but Harry knew that nothing could get Louis out of bed that early, not even him.Louis opened his mouth, the frowns on Harry’s face too sad for his liking, but then footsteps came tumbling down the hall, and Harry’s expression immediately changed from sour to happy, as it always did when the girls were around.“My love,” he sighed, holding out his arms. He crouched down, Jessa perching on one leg while Angie wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, giving him a squeeze. Harry lifted the two girls effortlessly, Louis’ mouth watering only slightly at the very defined bulge in his arms - he’d been spending a lot of time in the gym to prepare, and it was hot. Harry being domestic turned on Louis more than it probably should.“You girls gonna be good for your Papa, now? Are you going to listen to him and go to bed when you’re supposed to, right? And you’re gonna help with Lauren, right? Papa’s very patient, isn’t he? You’re gonna take him to the park and on walks and help him make sandwiches for lunch?”Louis leaned against the tabletop, watching Harry hold his girls and listen to them babble, kissing their little noses and squeezing them gently.“S’not like you’re really going off to war, pet,” Louis said, but even he could tell his voice was watery. He hadn’t really gotten emotional over Harry leaving until now. “We’re gonna see Dadda on the weekends, babes, s’like he’s never left,” he assured the girls, bouncing Lauren slightly. Harry set down the two oldest girls, wrapping his arms around Louis and nuzzling his face into Lauren’s small head. Louis relaxed into his embrace, the two of them enjoying a quiet moment before Harry headed out to film for three long months on a freezing beach, surrounded by soldiers, secrets, and detonated bombs.He had never been more excited, really. That evening “Where’s Dadda?” Angela asked, holding out her arms for Louis to lift her out of her car seat. He had Lauren on his hip, her lips drooling onto his sweater. Louis wrapped her in his arms, closing the car door with his hip. Where are you? Show starts in 20. If you’re late I’m going to kill you. Safe trip, honey. Text when you can. Love you, but I’m honestly really pissed at you. Louis sat himself toward the back, knowing it would be easiest for Harry to get in and out without causing a scene. He’d told Harry the show was at six, Harry promised he’d be there. Louis helped Angela out of her coat, the little girl rifling through Louis’ bag for her doll. Louis adjusted Lauren on his lap, bouncing the baby slightly with anxiety. Harry was supposed to be there. His absence was very loud. He should be by Louis’ side right now, not wherever the hell he was.“Are you fucking -” Harry threw his bag on the ground, wincing until he realized his laptop was in the other leather bag on the seat beside him. He tapped out a message to Louis, his fingers basically punching the screen. He threw his beanie off, wringing his fingers through his hair anxiously, for once not caring about showing his hair off to the public. He was in a private waiting room waiting for his town car to come, and he was getting frantic. The Eurostar was down a train, which meant he had to wait another half hour to get the next one, and he was now officially running late. Louis was going to murder him. On the way, I love you. Give the girls a kiss from me I love you I love you I love you I’m sorry I’ll be there I love you. He was anxious, and terrified that he’d miss the show. That was his one exception, his one rule, that his life as a celebrity never affected his life as a father. His daughter was performing her first ballet recital, and he was so proud of her, so proud of his little girl. He was supposed to be there with a bouquet of flowers, probably holding a sleepy, beautiful Lauren on his lap while his arm was slung over Louis’ shoulders, and Angie, his angel Angie, would probably be dancing along in the aisle, because she’d always aspired to be her older sister, even if she acted like she didn’t.“Fucking hell,” Harry said, his face in his hands. He rubbed his eyes aggressively, not caring how much he’d suffer for it. He was bloody exhausted, the train was loud, and he couldn’t get an ounce of sleep. He was able to change into a white blouse and skinny jeans and boots, not wearing his usual sneaker/basketball short/leggings/sweatshirt combo that he liked to stay incognito in during filming. His knees bobbed up and down, his hair a complete mess and exhaustion throbbing behind his eyes.10 minutes until showtime, and Louis was slumped in his seat. He felt defeated. He knew it wasn’t Harry’s fault - deep down he kept trying to tell himself this - but he was pissed. He knew Harry was the best father in the world, hands down. He called nearly every night and talked to their girls before bed, he texted Louis every day, whether it was what he was up to or things he’d seen that reminded him of Louis. The texts took ages to finally send but once they did, Louis screenshotted all of them and sent his own reply back, along with pictures of the girls, and he knew Harry saved all of them, because Harry was so proud of his family, and Harry kept all of his promises when it came to his children and his husband, always.It wasn’t his fault that he was a superstar, a future-award-winning actor, and a Dad all at once, but it was just a little tiresome. He promised he’d be there.“I miss Daddy,” Angie whispered. She took a long swig of her apple juice, Louis wincing a little. Not that he minded taking his girls to the toilet when they were out, but it was always a bit of a hassle getting the two of them up and out of the room quietly, because Angie liked to babble.“Gah! ” Lauren gurgled into Louis’ ear, slapping her tiny hands on his back. She continued making unintelligible sounds in a language only she understood, until Louis turned, shushing her gently. And, oh. There he was. His hair was a mess and it needed a good scrub, and he held a bouquet of slightly-wilted flowers that looked like they had been dropped a few times. His shirt was wrinkled from being in his leather bag all day - he had one for each shoulder, currently. Harry lifted Angela effortlessly, sitting down beside Louis and plopping her on his lap, turning and pressing a few kisses to Louis’ temple.“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he whispered, his voice carrying over the hush of the audience as the lights dimmed and the opening notes of Swan Lake began to play. “I told you I’d be here, didn’t I?”Louis blinked back the tears in his eyes, hiding his face in the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry’s shirt was only buttoned twice at the bottom, his defined chest open for the world to see. Harry smelled sort of stale, exactly as you’d expect someone would smell who was traveling all day, but he was warm and soft and his heart was beating under Louis’ ear, and he’d take that feeling any day, over anything. Harry was there, and he may or may not have shouted “That’s my girl!” at the top of his lungs after Jessa’s small, albeit important solo, completely blowing his “get in/get out without being seen” cover, and he might have clapped the loudest and whistled during the final bow, and crouched down at just the right time for Jess to launch herself into his arms, spinning her around and keeping his mouth pressed to her cheek.He insisted on carrying Lauren out to the car, his other arm wrapped around Louis’ waist as the family walked out to the car, Harry got Lauren in her seat, then squeezed Louis into his chest, Louis wrapping his arms tightly around his husband’s waist.“Told you I’d be here, didn’t I? I told you,” Harry said, a twinkle in his eye. Louis rolled his eyes, giggling when Harry leaned down to capture his lips, and it might have been the most romantic moment he’d ever had in a primary school parking lot. Just maybe. Because Harry was home. Even if he was a little late.
10759911	one two three	{ "Archive Warning": "Major Character Death", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Hiiragi Shinya, Ichinose Guren", "Fandom": "終わりのセラフ \| Owari no Seraph \| Seraph of the End", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-29T00:00:00", "words": "1,141", "Additional Tags": "Pills", "Relationship": "Hiiragi Shinya/Ichinose Guren", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	The consumption of three white pills everyday. That was all it took to keep Guren sane nowadays. On the contrary, his doctor prescribed only one dose daily to get him through each day with ease. But one pill only made the raven-haired man see him; two to get to talk to him; three, touch him. After a bunch of rounds of trial and error, he contemplated whether or not he should risk overdose. But, of course, he chose to do the former. One. Two. Three. “Good morning,” Shinya says with a cat-like grin, enclosing him in an embrace. He’s wearing a gray hoodie with a pair of khaki shorts and bright red sneakers. Guren cringes at the sight. “It’s 1400 hours, Shinya,” Guren sighs as he removes Shinya’s arms around his shoulders. Currently, they were situated in the kitchen of a cozy home in the outskirts of Tokyo. It belonged to Guren’s mother once. Somehow, he could feel the warmth his mother might’ve given him if she were still alive today just by being inside the cozy bungalow. Not that he'd put a lot of thought in it, though. Shinya skipped to the other side of the room and hopped on top of the kitchen counter. He stuck his tongue out, “What’re you using military time for? Not like you’re in the army still!” Guren spares Shinya a ghost of a smile as he makes himself some tea. “Hey! Make me some too, alright?” Shinya yells out as he jumps off the counter to skip out of the kitchen. When his companion is out of earshot, Guren whispers, “As if you’d be able to drink this.” When he finishes making tea for both of them, he carries two teacups in both hands and brings them to the living room. Shinya’s sprawled across the comfy leather couch while a soap opera was being showed on the monochromatic television. Guren couldn’t afford colored TV, but Shinya said black and white was cool. Guren places both teacups on the coffee table in front of them. He lifts the other male’s legs off the couch, takes a seat and places Shinya’s legs on his lap. An afternoon with TV shows in black and white, tea that Shinya would always forget to drink, the faint scent of cigarettes that Guren smokes before taking his dosage, and Shinya, in all his white-haired glory on the couch as they chatted like usual together was how Guren normally spends his days when he isn’t risking his life on the battlefield. Guren’s cup is half-empty when Shinya says, “Let’s go out!” He stares at Shinya with incredulity. “What?” Shinya shifts around so his head is in Guren’s lap instead of his legs. “Well, all we do is chat and watch TV all day. I need a new scenery,” He pouts. “No,” Guren says with a tone of finality. “Why not?” Shinya volleys with a rebellious hint in his voice. “Because I said so.” Shinya’s eyebrows furrow. “Why are you so stiff about it whenever I bring this up? Are you allergic to the outside world or something?” “No. It’s just that it’s a bad day today,” Guren turns away, avoiding Shinya’s blue-eyed gaze. Shinya sits upright and faces Guren with an irritated stare. “It's always a bad day to you. Now can you just tell me why you don’t wanna go out so badly? I mean, we could talk about thi--” “Fucking drop it, Shinya!” The black-haired man yells out. Shinya falls silent with a dejected look on his eyes. Guren can’t stand to look at Shinya with that look on his face. With a deep breath, he closes his eyes. One. Two. Three. He opens them again to find the absence of the loud, white-haired man that was there moments ago. Guren feels numb yet agonized at the same time. He’s on the ground, blood staining the earth from multiple stabs on his torso. He couldn’t feel his legs, let alone move them. He’s very sure that one of those monsters crushed his windpipe, as well. Damned vampires. He struggles to sit upright. He frantically searches his pockets for the bottle which contained the things he considered as valuable as his life. He uncaps his prescription bottle, shoving out all the cotton and sees two more white pills left. No. This isn’t enough. I need to be able to hold him. I need to hold him. He notices the dampness on his cheeks. He’s crying. He’s regretting it all. He regrets all the times he’s turned Shinya down. He regrets not taking him out the day before he got deployed into battle. But he shakes off all inhibition from his body and shoves the last two pills that were as white as his hair down his throat. One. He closes his eyes for a moment, making sure not to slip away. Two. He’s definitely losing more blood now. He could feel it. Three. He feels so light-headed; he just wants to sleep “Guren?” He would recognize that voice in a heartbeat. He opens his eyes and sees Shinya sitting cross-legged beside his dying self. He’s still wearing the outfit he always does --gray hoodie, khaki shorts and red sneakers. He still thinks Shinya looks stupid, but he was thanking the Almighty being above because his angel has arrived. Shinya stares him with confusion --his iridescent eyes scanning him intently. “You’re hurt. You said you weren't going to fight anymore.” Guren gives Shinya a pained smile. He contemplates on how far-out he already is. He couldn’t believe that he could keep manifesting Shinya every time he was on the pills. And the mere fact that every time he manifests, he remembers all the things Guren tells him beforehand as if he had a memory, is beyond him. Guren knows it. He knows that Shinya Hiragi has been long dead. One of his many comrades that died in the battles against the vampires that came before this one. But Guren could never deny that Shinya burrowed a little hole in Guren's empty, war-ridden heart and made a home there even before his passing. The entity before is eyes is more of a figment of Guren’s imagination --the product of his insanity, his wayward mind, and the long-term forlornness he was forced to experience all throughout his life. “You’re not real,” Guren coughs out blood. “I know,” Shinya pulls him into an embrace. I shouldn’t be able to feel him. Why can I feel him? I only took two. “Thank you,” Guren barely whispers. “For what?” “For keeping me company,” He buries his face into Shinya’s chest, inhaling the scent of his gray hoodie. Strangely, it smelled of the tea he always made for the both of them. Shinya smiles. Guren closes his eyes. One. “Shinya?” Two. “Yeah?” Three. “I love you.”
10776915	Proud Defense	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Arthur Ketch (mentioned) - Character, Magda Peterson (Mentioned), John Winchester (mentioned), Claire Novak (mentioned), Mick Davies (mentioned), Orignial Female Character", "Fandom": "Supernatural", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by aquestlikethat", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-05-01T00:00:00", "words": "9,281", "Additional Tags": "Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Sam, Hurt Dean, Visions, mention of child death, Myling, Yale - Freeform, Case Fic, Ask Sam Contest, Episode: s12e16 Ladies Drink Free", "Relationship": "Sam Wincester & Dean Winchester", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	“So, get this,” Sam calls as Dean saunters into the kitchen, making a bee-line for the coffee pot.“Whoa, whoa hold on.” Dean mumbles before Sam can continue. The younger man opens his mouth but Dean puts a hand up and pours a cup of coffee, keeping his palm toward Sam until he is finished and has taken a sip. “Okay, now you can geek out all you want about whatever case you’ve found for us.” He says, lowering his hand and dropping to sit at the table.Sam glares at his brother for a moment before protesting “Dude-““Hey, don’t act so surprised.” The older hunter interrupts again, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet on the table. “That’s always what you say when you’re about to pitch a case to me and man, it’s too early for research unless I’ve had some coffee first.”Sam stares at his brother for a moment before shaking his head. He slides his computer to where Dean can see the screen, pointedly knocking his bare feet off the table in doing so.“So ge-“ he pauses, ignoring Dean’s snort, “Look at this article. Ashville, North Carolina. Says here that kids have been going missing overnight and their bodies are being found the next day in the middle of the woods, ‘half buried with multiple lacerations to the head and torso.’”“Okay…” Dean comments, thinking as he sips his coffee, “Could be an animal attack. What makes you think this is our kind of thing?” he asks.Sam holds up a finger before scrolling down the page and reading directly from the article, “’The bodies were found standing vertically, as if they had sunk into the ground.’” He looks at Dean, waiting for his response.Dean downs the rest of his black coffee, grimacing at the temperature. “Okay that does ping my weird meter.” He pauses, his eyes moving down the article, before asking, “How many victims?”The younger Winchester nods sadly. “Two so far.”“Alright then, let’s get packed up.” Dean starts toward his room, turns back and asks, “Sam? Did this hunt come from-“Sam interrupts him, shaking his head. “This one is all me.” Dean nods and takes the last few steps out of the room.Alone in their industrial sized kitchen Sam nods to himself, scanning the names of the victims again. He understood Dean’s hesitance. After what happened on the hunt with Claire and Mick, Sam is also reluctant to take hunts form the British Men of Letters, despite the results they get. Maybe taking out something that is targeting children will help him forget the heartbroken cries that haunt his dreams.~~~~Sam hands Dean his fake FBI badge, pocketing his own and opening his door to head into the police station. He stops when he realized his brother is not following him. The younger man bends down to look back into the car at Dean who is staring at his badge. “Dude, come on. What are you waiting for?”The older man looks at Sam, turning his badge toward his brother. “Seriously? Agent Rosenberg?” Sam scoffs and looks away. “And I supposed you’re ‘Agent Summers’ then?” Dean jokes. Sam’s cheeks turn red. “Oh my God you didn’t.”Sam slams his door and begins walking toward the building, his brother rushing to follow him. “You know, if you were going to go all geeky on me you could have at least made yourself the nerd. If we’re both chicks I’m definitely the badass Slayer.” He teases.Sam tries to hide a laugh. “Call me a geek all you want, but you got the reference too, Dean.” He fires back, making Dean stop in his tracks.The older Winchester shakes his head at his giant nerd of a brother. “Sammy the Vampire Slayer!” he calls after ‘Agent Summers’, hurrying to catch up with Sam’s longer stride.~~~~The police station isn’t very busy and soon the hunters are directed to an elevator near the back of the building. Pulling their badges, the brothers step out of the elevator on the bottom floor.“Hello.” Dean calls. “Anyone down here? Special Agents …” he rolls his eyes, “Rosenberg and Summers.”A short woman with long brown hair tied high on her head steps around the corner. “FBI?” she asks, then shakes her head. “How may I help you gentlemen?”Sam smiles at her. “We’d like to take a look at the bodies from the woods? David Nelson and Austin Bradford?”The coroner nods sadly. “I guess I should have known that was what you were here for. We don’t exactly have a low crime rate here, but not much involving children. Most of the town is shaken up and you can count on parents keeping a closer eye on their young ones.” Sam gives her a sympathetic nod, a sad glint in his eyes. “Right this way, agents.”She leads them into the next room which has four steel tables in the middle of the floor and drawers along one wall. Two of the tables are currently occupied by shapes under white sheets. The bodies look tiny in the sparse room.“I’m Jenna Spear, by the way.” She introduces herself, holding her gloved hands out. “I’d shake your hands, but…”“That’s fine, Dr. Spear.” Sam smiles. “I’m Sam Summers, this is my partner, Dean Rosenberg.” Jenna nods to them before walking to the closest table.The three of them gather around the table as Jenna pulls back the sheet to reveal the body of a young boy. “This is Austin Bradford, the first victim.” She explains, handing them the file from the end of the table. “He was found two three nights ago. David Nelson was found the next night.”“No victim from last night, though?” Dean asks.“No.” she shakes her head. “Like I said, parents have been keeping a real close eye on their kids. But I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time. The local kids love to go out to the cemetery in the woods. It’s a traditional dare or something.”Sam pulls out his phone. “Cemetery in the woods?” He asks.“Yeah, it’s this really old spot from back when the town was first founded. Kids go out there all the time. The younger ones just want a bit of a scare, but older kids get up to all kinds of trouble out there.”“Dr. Spear,” Sam asks, holding up a map of the woods on his phone. “Do you think you could show me about where this cemetery is?” She nods and examines the map for a moment before drawing a circle around a small portion of woods.“Should be somewhere around there.” Sam examines the map where she circled.“Thank you very much.” Dean smiles at her, handing her a card. “If you find anything else give us a call, okay?”“My pleasure.” She covers the body again, then adds, “Agents. Please find the monster that did this.”Sam and Dean share a glance at her word choice before nodding. As they exit the morgue Jenna nods to herself, reenergized in her search for clues.~~~~“So what are you thinking?” Dean asks as they walk into their hotel room.Sam pulls off his suit jacket and drapes it over his chair, rubbing one hand down his face. “I don’t know. According to the coroner’s report their hearts weren’t missing.”“Rules out werewolves then.” Dean adds. “Any other ideas?”Sam shakes his head, digging for his iPad. “There’s got to be something about the way the bodies were found. I feel like I’ve read something like that before…” He trails off, tapping at his screen.“Great. Looks like it’s more research for us.” Dean mumbles, dropping into the seat opposite from Sam and pulling out a laptop.Sam sets his tablet down on the table with a little more force than necessary, rubbing at his eyes. Dean, who had long since gotten frustrated with their fruitless search for answers in the Men of Letters database Sam created, sits on his bed cleaning the guns. “Well, you lasted longer than even I thought you would.” He comments and Sam sighs. “Come on man, take a break. If you haven’t found anything in there yet with your giant nerd brain maybe there’s nothing to be found.”Sam sighs again, resting his face in his hands. “I know there’s something here. I know I’ve read something about this, if I could just remember-“ he reaches for the tablet again. Dean sighs and walks up to the table, putting his hand on the computer to keep Sam from picking it up.“Look, Sam. I want to find this thing as much as you do, but it won’t do the kids of this town any good to burn ourselves out with research and then not be able to even fight the thing.” He pauses. “You’ll remember whatever it is that’s pinging at the back of your mind eventually, but this isn’t helping.”Sam moves his hand from the tablet, leaning back in his chair. “You’re right.” He sighs. “But I can’t just sit here, Dean. Not when people are dying, when kids are dying.”Dean nods. “I know. It’s getting late. How about this, let’s finish cleaning the guns, and then if we still haven’t come up with anything when we’re done, we’ll go out to the cemetery ourselves and see if we can find anything that will help.” He waits a second, but Sam’s eyes are still closed. “Sound like a plan?” Sam nods, stands up, and gets to work cleaning a gun.~~~~“I don’t know, Dean.” Sam starts, as they pack the guns back into the duffle bag in order to move them back into the Impala’s secret compartment. “We have no idea what we’re dealing with. Do you really think it’s a good idea to just go out into the woods where-““Sam, come on!” Dean interrupts his brother. “You were all for this plan an hour ago.”“Yeah, but now that we’ve taken a break I feel like I can find whatever it is-“ Sam starts again, moving for his tablet.“Hey. If there was something to be found with the information we have, you would have found it earlier. I know you Sam. We’re not going to get any further without more information.” He sighs, looking down. “Look, we’ll take angel blades. They kill almost anything, it will be fine.”Sam hesitates for another moment. “Fine. I don’t think we should be charging into the woods without even knowing what we’re dealing with, much less how to kill it.” He looks down and his shoulders tighten. “But you’re right. We aren’t going to get anywhere without knowing more about what we’re looking for and I can’t just sit here and wait for another victim to give us that information. Let’s go.”~~~~It’s not a long drive from the hotel where they are staying to the entrance to the woods. They park the Impala at the edge of the trail and go to the trunk to get their weapons. It is the middle of the night and there are no other cars around.“So what are we thinking?” Dean asks his brother, who is staring at the map of the woods on his phone and comparing it to a paper one they picked up from the hotel office.Sam points to a spot on the map. “Okay, this is where the coroner said the cemetery is.” He checks his phone again and then nods to himself, sliding his finger over the map. “And this is the area where the bodies were found, according to the police report. So,” he trails off, checking the map on his phone once more, “if we are here, we should take this trail.” He points to a thin line wandering through the woods on the map, then looks around and motions toward an opening in the trees marked with a trail sign.“Alright then.” Dean nods, grabbing his angel blade and a flashlight and handing Sam the same. “Let’s go kill a monster.”“How far is it to where the bodies were found?” Dean asks again, making a show of dragging his feet over the dirt trail.Sam rolls his eyes, “Just a little closer than the last time you asked.” He fires back, scanning the woods with his flashlight before moving the beam back to the trail in front of him.Dean huffs in annoyance. “I hate hiking.” He grumbles. When Sam ignores him, continuing to trudge ahead, he adds, “I guess you’re in your element though, am I right, ‘she who hangs out in cemeteries’?”“Dean.” Sam hisses.“Oh come on, Buffy. You know I’m not-“ Dean sighs, stopping when he sees where Sam’s flashlight is pointing. The ground in front of them is marked with two trenches each about half a foot across. They run parallel to each other, a little more than a foot apart. Dean walks a little further and notices that they get deeper the farther he goes. He looks at the ground behind them, before the trenches start, and sees the imprints of footsteps, not quite as deep as the beginning of the trenches, leading right up to the disturbed ground Sam still stands in front of. “Damn.” He mutters under his breath.Sam has pulled the map out and is holding his flashlight with his shoulder to examine it again. “We’re almost to where the bodies were found.” Dean comes over and holds his flashlight to the map, allowing Sam to take his light out of its precarious position. “Thanks. Another nine hundred feet or so is where the first body was found.”Sam folds the map up again and the brothers walk on, one on each side of the small trenches, a new awareness of their surroundings evident in the motions of their flashlights across the path and the surrounding forest. The trenches continue to get deeper as the brothers walk further into the woods. They don’t talk, just continue to scan the trees with their lights. Finally, they come to a place where the two trenches, now almost a foot deep, merge into a single hole in the ground that sinks deeper even than the lowest points of the trenches.“This must be where the first body was found.” Sam comments, shining his light down into the hole.“What could do this?” Dean asks as he looks behind them at the trail of disturbed earth leading up to where they stand.Sam shakes his head and Dean can see frustration in his very posture. “There’s something about this…” he shakes his head again and pulls out the map once more.“So what about the other victim? Were they found in the same, uh, place?” Dean asks, shining his light around him in search of another hole.Sam is examining the map. “No, the police report said he was found off the trail, sunk into the ground just like the first kid.” He heaves a frustrated sigh and folds the map again. “They weren’t very specific about where off the trail though so I guess we’re just going to have to look around.”Dean sighs as well. “Great, not only are we in the woods, but now we have to go hiking through the underbrush. Just what I want to be doing on a Friday night.”Sam rolls his eyes at his brother’s complaining. “As far as I can tell, the second victim was found on the left side of the trail so that at least narrows it down a little bit.” Dean grumbles as the younger hunter continues, “You want to look back the way we came or ahead of us?”“I’ll go check back the way we came.” Dean decides. “Just in case you missed something since your freakishly long legs make you so far from the ground.” He jokes as he turns to walk back toward the entrance to the woods.Sam rolls his eyes and steps off the trail to the left, scanning the ground with his flashlight. Almost immediately, he begins to notice signs that someone passed through here, just close enough to the path to see it through the trees but far enough away that they would not be seen through the underbrush. The hunter follows the trail and notices the same markings that covered the ground leading up to the hole where the first victim was found. A line of deep footprints leading into two deepening trenches ahead of him that begin to track back toward the path.“Dean!” Sam calls to his brother over his shoulder to let him know he found something, before kneeling down to examine the footprints more closely. He hears footsteps behind him. “That was fast, were you even look-“ his words are cut off in a grunt when something heavy lands on his back. “What the hell?” He twists around as much as possible but all he can make out of what is climbing onto his shoulders in a dark shape. Sam tries to throw it off by twisting his body but he feels clawed hands digging into his shoulders and lets out a pained yell. His vision goes bright with the pain and in the empty whiteness he sees a clearing filled with crumbling tombstones, the cemetery. As the thought comes to his mind he feels a pull somewhere inside himself and suddenly all he wants is to get to that cemetery. The hunter struggles to stand under the extreme weight of the monster on his back and takes a step deeper into the woods.Each lifting of his feet is a struggle, the creature on his back is heavier than should be possible and he feels his heels begin to sink into the ground as he walks. Still, all he can think about is getting to the cemetery. Some part of him finally realizes what it is they are hunting but that voice is far in the back of his head, hidden under the pressing importance of the cemetery he saw in his mind and the crushing weight of the creature on his back. He breaks out of the woods and steps back onto the path, still moving slowly and painfully deeper into the forest. The creature on his shoulders seems to be getting impossibly heavier with each step he takes until he can no longer lift his feet and is instead forced to drag them over the ground. He finally understands in that place at the back of his mind how the trenches leading up to the holes were made. Even though the hunter knows where this is leading for him if he even slows the creature digs its hands deeper into the flesh of his shoulders and sinks heavier onto him until Sam can almost feel his spine creaking under the pressure.The younger Winchester takes another painful, sliding step toward the cemetery, wondering how he is even standing at this point, when he hears an explosion of sound from the trees to his left.“Hey Chucky! Get off my brother!” Dean yells as he runs out of the woods, angel blade in hand.“Dean!” Sam grunts as his brother charges up to him and slashes at the creature on his back.The monster hisses into Sam’s ear and he gets another image of the cemetery, whiting out his vision, before the weight falls from his back. Suddenly, Sam’s legs can’t hold him up and he finds himself dropping painfully to the ground. He hears scurrying in the woods beside him and his brother cursing as he lays there panting and blinking at the spots still covering his vision.Dean yells after the creature one more time, Sam can’t quite make out his words and realizes for the first time that his ears are ringing, before dropping in front of his brother. “Sam?” Dean calls, a hand on his brother’s back. “Sammy, you okay? Talk to me man!”Sam can hear the concern in his brother’s tone and he wants to answer him, he just has to get enough air into his gasping lungs to be able to speak. For the moment he just nods and continues taking deep gulps of air, trying to breathe around the ache in his back. Dean must understand that Sam can’t speak yet and waits, his hand still on the younger man’s back, for which Sam is grateful. Behind his closed eyes Sam can almost see Dean scanning the woods for the creature’s return, worry lines stretched across his mouth and beside his eyes.After a few minutes of deep breaths Sam feels much better and decides he can get up now. He starts to shift so he can push himself up on his elbows. “Woah, easy. Let me help, Sam.” Dean’s voice is soft but Sam can still hear the worry as his brother slides an arm across his chest, taking the younger man’s weight from his shaking arms. He pulls Sam upright slowly until he is sitting up, one hand still across his back keeping him that way. “How about we don’t try to sit up on our own when we still haven’t opened our eyes, huh?” Dean teases softly and it is only then that Sam realizes that his eyes are, in fact, still closed.He grunts, still not feeling like he has enough oxygen to spare for proper speech, before forcing his lids open. And then wishing he hadn’t. The whole world spins and Sam finds himself falling forward, only kept from kissing the dirt of the path by his brother steering his head to drop onto his shoulder. Sam groans again.“What did I tell you?” Sam can hear the smirk in Dean’s voice. Then more serious, “Give it a second, Samuel.” The younger Winchester feels his lips tug up in a smile at that and does what he’s told.Even behind his closed lids Sam can see the light in the woods changing and realizes that the sun must be starting to rise. “Think I’m good now.” He croaks, surprised at how much breathing still hurts his back. He pulls away and manages to sit up on his own. Dean looks doubtful but then he looks at the brightening sky around them. He sighs. “We do need to get going before the sun finishes coming up and we start running into hikers.” He looks Sam over again, then stands. Sam starts to push himself to his knees, but Dean drops a hand to his shoulder, making him hiss in pain. “Sam? You okay?” Sam nods and motions to his shoulders. Dean takes a closer look and notices for the first time now that the sky is brightening, the tears in the fabric of his brother’s shirt. “Holy shit, Sam! You didn’t tell me you were hurt!” He goes to kneel in front of Sam again but the younger hunter brushes him off. “Was a little busy breathing. Plus, s’ not that bad. You’re right. Need to get out of here. It can wait till the hotel.” He sentences are a little choppy and he knows Dean notices but breathing still hurts the muscles of his back and he wants to use as little air as possible.His brother sighs. “Fine, but I’m checking them out when we get to the car.” Sam rolls his eyes and then winces at the beginnings of a headache he can feel massing behind his eyes. “Alright, let’s get you up. You good to walk?” He asks, gripping Sam under the elbows. Sam nods gingerly, attempting and failing to minimize the pain in his head. “Okay, let me do most of the work, I don’t want you passing out on me and making me carry your heavy ass out of here.” Dean says before counting to three and lifting Sam slowly to his feet.Sam closes his eyes against the dizziness at the altitude change, leaning into his brother’s grip on his forearms. He’s pretty sure Dean is holding up almost all of his weight and tries to take some for himself. Dean puts one of Sam’s arms over his shoulder and the younger man winces at how it pulls at his wounds. “Sorry.” Dean comments and Sam shakes his head. He needs all the support he can get to walk out of here and maybe the pain will help keep him awake. Now that he is upright he feels just how exhausted he is. His entire body is begging him to rest and the only thing keeping him upright is Dean’s arm across his waist.They make their stumbling way back to the Impala, just as the sun comes fully into the sky. The black car still stands alone in the lot beside the woods and Dean breathes a sigh of relief at that as he steers his brother to the passenger side.Sam is nearly dead weight, barely able to put one foot in front of the other, and Dean struggles to dig the keys out of his pocket before unlocking his Baby and dropping his brother gently onto the leather seat. Once he is sure Sam isn’t going to fall out of the car, he goes to the trunk and digs for the first aid kit, bringing it back to where Sam leans in the car, nearly passed out.“Alright, Sam. I just need a little help and then you can pass out all you want. Let’s get these layers off.” He talks mostly to himself as he works, Sam is too exhausted to be much help but eyes are still open and he tracks Dean’s movements.The older Winchester hisses when he sees the wounds, deep punctures on both of Sam’s shoulders from the creature digging its claws into his brother. “This is going to sting.” He warns the younger man before pouring alcohol over the punctures, making sure some gets into all of them as Sam grunts in pain. “Sorry man. Almost done.” Dean continues to narrate as he pulls gauze out of the kit to cover each of his brother’s shoulders, taping it down, and then patting Sam’s chest. “All done.” He tells Sam, who just nods, biting his lip so hard Dean knows he’s about to make it bleed.He doesn’t say anything, just packs up the first aid kit as fast as he can before throwing it back into the trunk and sliding into the driver’s seat of the Impala. Sam is leaning back against the seat, eyes closed, but Dean can tell by his breathing that the younger man isn’t asleep. When he has started the car and pulled back out onto the road - avoiding as many bumps as he can so as not to cause his brother any additional pain - Sam finally speaks. “Myling.”Dean shoots his brother a confused look but Sam’s eyes are still closed. “Come again?” Sam doesn’t answer and for a moment Dean thinks he must have imagined the first time.After a minute, Sam sighs and repeats. “Myling. The creature. That’s what it is. I figured it out.”“Alright, Sammy.” Dean grins at his brother but the younger man’s eyes are still closed.Sam still manages a smile and asks, “Does this mean you get to figure out how to kill it when we get back to the hotel?”Dean rolls his eyes but he knows Sam is right. Dean will be doing the research, at least until Sam has rested a little from their encounter with the Myling. The older Winchester will actually enjoy figuring out how to kill the son of a bitch who hurt his brother.~~~Sam shifts uncomfortably at the pain in his back. He struggles to remember where he is and why his muscles feel so sore. He and Dean were on a hunt, he remembers that much.They couldn’t figure out what they were hunting so they went out into the woods, and then – the memory all but smacks Sam in the face. Following the trail to the second hole, calling Dean, the creature climbing on his back, and then the cemetery, the all-encompassing need to get there. Sam tears his eyes open and looks desperately around him. He remembers Dean stabbing the creature but not much after that.When his vision finally comes into focus, Sam sees his brother sitting at a table, concern on his face. The younger hunter looks around, taking in more of his surroundings, before realizing that he is back in their hotel room. How he got here, though, is another story.When he looks again at his brother, Dean is still watching him with concern on his face. The older hunter must see the confusion on Sam’s face. “After I got you to the car you kind of passed out.” He tells Sam. “I practically had to carry your heavy ass in here to put you in bed.” Sam can feel shame creeping into his face for passing out and leaving Dean to take care of everything. His brother adds, “You did manage to stay awake long enough in the car to at least tell me what we were facing.” Dean grins at him.Sam gives him a quizzical look before the memory hits him again. A Myling. It was so clear, he doesn’t know why it took him so long to figure it out. “Myling.” He repeats. “Figure out how to kill it yet?” He starts to push himself up in bed, wincing at the fire that erupts in his shoulders, adding to the dull ache of his back.Suddenly, Dean is beside him. “Alright, easy there Rambo. Let me help.” He pulls Sam up until he is leaning against the headboard, pillows behind him to soften the surface for his back. “That good?” Dean asks and Sam nods, still catching his breath. “How’s the head?” His brother asks, just as Sam registers the pounding starting up in his temples from all the movement. He turns to Dean, wondering how his brother knew his head was bothering him even before Sam did. Dean shrugs, “It was hurting you last night in the car. Plus your eyes got all squinty like they do when you get a migraine. How bad is it?”Sam thinks for a moment before answering, “Four. S’ not that bad.”Dean looks at him for another second, trying to decide how truthful he’s being, before stepping away. “Mylings,” the older hunter comments, “more like demon zombie babies.” Sam gives him a look that says, ‘Seriously?’ and Dean rolls his eyes. “Right, I mean, ‘the incarnation of the soul of a child born out of wedlock’” he reads from a page pulled up on the laptop, then walks over to Sam with the younger man’s tablet. When Sam reaches for it Dean pulls it back and hands him some pills first, nodding to a glass of water already waiting on the nightstand. Sam sighs but swallows the pills before taking his tablet from his brother.He opens the iPad immediately and begins talking. “It’s more than that, Dean. These children were taken out into the woods and left to die because their very birth was illegal.” He stops scrolling and reads, “’Now Mylings are said to chase lone wanderers at night and jump on their backs, demanding to be carried to the graveyard, so they can rest in hallowed ground’.” He looks up at Dean. “The thing is, the closer you get to hallowed ground, the heavier the Myling gets. It’s almost impossible to make it there.” He shakes his head at himself. “It all makes so much sense now. That’s why the bodies were found in holes like they were. And the trenches leading up to the holes, those were made when they dragged their feet, trying to get to the cemetery. I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out.”Dean rolls his eyes at his geek of a brother. “It says here that if the person is unable to get the Myling to the cemetery it will ‘kill its victim in rage’.” Dean adds. “What I’m not seeing anything about is how the victim knows what to do. Like, how did those kids know to take it toward the cemetery? How did you?” He asks.“It was like, this vision.” Sam answers. “When it climbed on top of me, it dug its claws into my shoulders,” the hunter moves a hand to rest gently over the healing punctures in his shoulder. “And when it did, my vision went kind of white and I saw this cemetery. Really old…” Sam trails off, seeing the vision again in his mind. “And I was filled with this overpowering urge to get there, no matter what.” He looks at Dean.“So the demon baby climbed on your back and you suddenly wanted to give it a piggy back ride of death? Those are some ‘killer’ Dad instincts.” He smirks.“Shut up” Sam rolls his eyes.Dean huffs a laugh. “Okay, well unfortunately I’m also not seeing much about how to kill it.” He frowns. “The angel blade barely hurt it and I get the feeling it only ran off because the sun was coming up soon and we presented more of a fight than it was willing to give. So, any bright ideas for how to kill it, Einstein?”Sam is looking at his tablet, but he doesn’t seem to be reading anything. Dean can almost see the gears turning in his brother’s head. Finally, he seems to have an inspiration, scrolling rapidly down the page. He stops on something and nods to himself. “Okay, want to share with the class?” Dean asks.“Of course” Sam says, still talking to himself. He looks at Dean. “What if the lore doesn’t tell us how to kill it because we don’t have to kill it?”Dean frowns. “Uh, Sam. This thing is killing people, kids. I’m pretty sure it’s in our job description to kill it.”“No.” Sam says, “I mean, yes we have to get rid of it, make it stop killing people, but what if the way to do that isn’t to kill it?”Dean is still confused. “What, Sam? You want to sit it down and tell it the consequences of its actions? Put it in time out and tell it to ‘think about what it’s done’? I don’t think that’s going to work.”Sam waves off his brother’s teasing, again looking at his tablet. “The Myling is the soul of a child born out of wedlock that was left in the woods to die, right?” He asks.“Yeah, Sam. We read that already. I’m not following you here.”“Well, back in the days when having a child out of wedlock was illegal, burial was also very important. More specifically, religious burial on hallowed ground.” He pauses but Dean is still looking unsure. “If people got in trouble with the Church the worst punishment they could get was to be excommunicated, which meant they couldn’t have a proper Christian burial. They believed that the soul couldn’t ascend into heaven to be at rest without such a burial. The Myling wants to get to the cemetery, maybe if we get it there it will, I don’t know, cross over.”Dean looks doubtful. “You really think that will work, Ghost Whisperer?”Sam looks back at his tablet. “I don’t know. But the Myling, the child it was before it was killed, it wasn’t evil. Maybe they don’t mean to hurt others now. I mean, they’ve only been shown hatred, how could they know any better? I think it’s worth a shot.”Dean nods, “Alright, you’re the expert on research. If you think it will work, I trust you.” He doesn’t miss the small smile that sneaks onto his brother’s face at his words. “There’s one problem though, how are we going to get it to the cemetery?”Sam shakes his head. “I don’t think we can just lure it there, I think it will have to be carried onto hallowed ground.”“Right, and that worked so well last time.” Dean comments.“We just need to get as close to the cemetery as possible before it jumps us.” Sam says.“It only attacked us when we split up,” Dean remembers, “and the lore says it attacks ‘lone wanderers’,”“So maybe if we don’t split up it won’t attack right away. It will wait until we get closer.” Sam finishes a smile on his face. God, he is such a giant nerd, Dean thinks.“Okay.” Dean, nods. “We’ll go out as soon as it gets dark enough. And Sam,” he adds, “I’m going to carry it into the cemetery.”“No, Dean. It already has its sights on me. I’ll do it.”“Exactly, you’re already hurt, which is why I should be the one to do this. Let’s please just not argue about this. I’m going to need you to have my back but please just let me to this.”Sam holds out for a moment but this sighs, nodding. “Fine, but at any sign of trouble, I will take it from you.”Dean rolls his eyes fondly at his stubborn little brother but nods, knowing Sam isn’t kidding. No matter how hurt he is, he will find a way to watch out for his brother. He smiles and begins gathering things together in preparation for tonight.~~~~They make it all the way to the hole where the first victim was found without any sign of the Myling. The brothers stay close, using their flashlights to scan the woods around them for movement. “How long do you think it’s going to let us just stroll through the woods?” Dean asks but Sam just shakes his head.“No idea. Let’s just hope it waits until we are close enough to the cemetery.” Sam can see the place where he came out of the woods last night ahead of them, the still present ache in his back and shoulders more than enough reminder of how hard this is going to be. Suddenly, Dean stops, standing very still. Sam stops as well, seeing the tension in his brother’ back. He listens for whatever Dean must have heard but he hears nothing. He is about to ask the older man why he stopped when there is a sudden flash of movement in the trees to their right.Before Sam can let out a warning, the Myling is on Dean’s back, gripping his shoulders with its sharp claws. His brother gasps and his knees bend under the weight of the creature, his eyes shut against what Sam knows is a vision of the cemetery. He struggles to stand in place, a foot or so behind his brother as Dean takes a first step toward the clearing full of gravestones. Sam steels himself and follows along behind his brother, wincing with each step as the memory of the creature’s painful claws in his shoulders fills his mind. He hates not being able to keep the monster from hurting his brother, hates watching as Dean struggles under the weight and the overpowering desire to get to the graveyard.Sam notices Dean’s feet begin to sink into the ground with each step, leaving a line of footprints behind him. Several yards later the older hunter begins dragging his feet, each movement scraping away inches of dirt. The younger man wants so badly to take the burden from his brother but he knows he has to wait until the last possible moment to intervene, otherwise they will never make it to the cemetery.Now, Dean’s progress is torturously slow. Each step is accompanied by a pained grunt as his feet drag away at the ground. If the hunter pauses for a moment, or even slows his steps, the Myling digs its claws deeper into Dean’s shoulders.Sam is starting to see a break in the trees ahead and finally, he can’t take it anymore. The younger hunter steps up right behind his brother and grabs the creature, pulling at it. Dean stops, breathing heavily and his feet begin to sink into the ground. The Myling gives an angry screech, pulling its claws from Dean’s shoulders, but before it can begin to tear at him Sam stabs it with his angel blade. The creature screeches again and leaps at Sam, exactly as he hoped it would. Dean falls to his knees, panting, but Sam doesn’t have time to check on him before his vision is again filled with images of the cemetery. This time, his will matches what the creature wants from him and he begins to walk purposefully toward the graveyard. The Myling is already heavier than it was when it ran off last night but somehow that only serves to encourage Sam. They must be close to the cemetery. If he can just keep walking.The ruins of an old church are beginning to peek through the trees when Sam feels like his back will break any minute under the pressure the Myling is putting on it. His already injured shoulders are on fire where the monster is again digging its claws into his flesh. The hunter is beginning to feel like he can’t take another step when there is a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. A dark shape leaps at him and he wonders what is attacking them now. Then the weight is gone from him shoulders. He falls to his knees and watches, vision blurred with exhaustion, as a giant, dark gray, creature grapples with the Myling. The creature hooks an enormous horn under the Myling which looks confused at this turn of events, but grabs onto its new victim’s dark hair. The black shape charges toward the cemetery as the Myling digs its claws into its neck.Sam stumbles to his feet and follows after the creature on shaking legs. He is only a few yards behind the strange pair and he can see that even this giant creature is struggling under the weight of the Myling. He realizes then that he and Dean never stood a chance of making it to the cemetery with the Myling. If this creature hadn’t shown up they would both have died out here in these woods.Despite the weakness in his legs Sam is able to catch up to the Myling and the dark creature as they cross into the cemetery. As it steps foot onto the hallowed ground, the giant animal shakes its head, trying to work the Myling loose. Sam’s vision is finally starting to clear when the Myling slides to the ground. As soon as its feet touch the ground of the graveyard, the surrounding forest erupts into a blinding white light. Through the painful brightness, Sam can see the shape of a child where the Myling stood before, smiling as it fades into the holy light.Sam knows he should be concerned about the new creature. Just because it helped them get rid of the Myling doesn’t mean it won’t attack them next, but his legs finally give out on him as he blinks the spots out of his vision from the blinding light of the Myling crossing over.The hunter’s eyes finally clear in time to see the creature turn to face him. He stares at the giant shape before him in shock. The creature is slender but its willowy limbs look strong. A long tail curls in the air behind it. It is clearly very old and at some point one of the powerful horns on its head must have been broken. The eye on the same side is missing, replaced by a jagged scar. Its remaining eye has a strange, cat-like pupil that seems to look into his soul.As the thought comes into his mind a memory also surfaces, of a hunt with his father and brother when he was only fourteen. The images are fuzzy, but Sam can remember this creature. Something had been killing hikers and the Winchesters went to investigate. He had gotten separated from his family and woke up in a cave, this same creature standing over him. Sam remembers how she gave him a bag of marshmallows. He also remembers the small skeleton that sat in the corner of the cave.At that moment, Dean comes staggering into the cemetery, gun in one hand, angel blade in the other. He doesn’t look much better than Sam and when he sees this new creature standing over his brother he levels his gun at the threat. “Dean, wait!” Sam calls, terribly afraid of what will happen if his brother shoots this creature. The hunter realizes he is concerned both for his brother and the creature. Dean flicks his gave from the threat just long enough to give Sam a look that says, ‘Are you out of you mind?!’ Sam ignores him. “It’s okay. She isn’t dangerous. I know her.” His brother looks like he thinks the younger man might have been hit on the head but he lowers his weapon.Before Dean can ask him what the hell he is talking about, Sam turns back to the creature. “Hello.” He murmurs, remembering that she can communicate.The creature, who never stopped looking at Sam, doesn’t open her mouth but he can still hear her words all around him. Hello again, Samuel Winchester.“I met you before.” Sam says, “I remember you, I remember that you told me something important but I don’t remember what it was.” It is no longer of importance, Samuel. You did not need to hear what I had to say, and you did not need to remember it. But I needed to hear what you told me. Sam tilts his head, confused. “What did I tell you, I can’t remember that either.”The creature’s features change into what could almost be considered a smile. Yes, I did not expect you to. It was not something you told me with words, but with actions.“Actions?” Sam asks, “I don’t under-““I don’t understand what either of you are talking about.” Dean interrupts, “Sam, what the hell?”Sam finds it incredibly difficult to turn away from the creature’s gaze, but he answers his brother. “Remember that hunt when we were kids. Something was killing hikers but leaving their kids alive? Then I got separated,”“And we found you in the thing’s lair. Yeah I remember.” Dean finishes. “The killings stopped and we never found the thing. Are you telling me this it? I thought you didn’t remember anything.”“I didn’t.” Sam confirms. “Not until I saw her again, but this is her.”Yes. The creature interjects and Sam turns back to her. That was a dark time. I truly apologize for any trouble I brought you, Dean Winchester. I was angry and confused. Dean looks shocked at the use of his name, his hand twitching on his weapon before relaxing again. I suppose I owe you two an explanation.I was living in those woods with my child. He was a miracle, I am among the last of my kind and I never thought I would have offspring. He was also an adventurous little thing, always wandering off. One day, he ran into a group of humans. Hunters. Sam and Dean stiffen. Not your type, no these men just hunted for sport. Maybe he startled them, maybe they thought he was a strange deer. She pauses, looking sadly at Sam. I felt his fear, his pain, when they killed him. We were connected. I came as fast as I could, killed the men who had done it, and took his body back to our cave. But it was not enough. I had been alone for so long and then I was not, I had this life that was mine to nurture and teach, my gift to the world. And what a gift he was. I couldn’t bear my loss and I was filled with a hatred for humans, all of them. Every time a group of them came near our cave I took out my rage on them, but I could never kill their children. No matter how deep my hatred for humans the children all reminded me of my son. And then I met you, Samuel Winchester. Her eye is searching his soul again, but Sam does not shrink under her gaze as he expected to. He feels no judgement, only a deep admiration, maybe even love in her stare. Your soul called to me the minute you stepped into my woods. When you were separated from your family I could not leave you, I brought you to my cave.Her words now seem to be directed only at Sam. I was mesmerized. I could see the deepest parts of you and I saw only goodness. At first I tried to tell myself that it was only because you were still a child, that you would be a monster someday, all humans were monsters. But I could see who you were, who you would become, and I could not argue with your soul. Your future stood before you, a painful thorny path, and yet no matter how I looked I still saw the light of goodness shining in you.Sam feels her words stretch past him again. It was then that I knew I had been wrong. Not all humans were monsters, to think that made me just like the men who killed my child. I felt their sins heavy on my shoulders and I did not know how I would ever lift them. You showed me the answer to that, too, Samuel. So I guarded you until your family was close, and then I left. I swore to myself that I would only kill real monsters, those that harm children. I began my penance. I was hunting this creature, the Myling. But I think, in a way, I was also following you.Sam and Dean look at each other. “Why?” Sam asks, after several moments of silence. You have helped me. Now it is time I help you. I am on the trail of another monster, you know him. Arthur Ketch. “Ketch?” Dean asks, shock clear on his face.The creature brings her tail in front of her, May I? She asks, motioning toward Sam’s head. The younger Winchester nods, completely certain that she means him no harm. Her tail is soft and warm on his skin. The creature’s touch brings a feeling of safety.A vision forms in his head. Unlike the Myling’s oppressive vision of the cemetery, this image feels somehow like a gift. Sam accepts it and is horrified by what he sees. Magda, the girl he and Dean had saved months ago, gets off a bus. She goes into the restroom of the bus stop and is followed by a man. A man with a tattooed hand that Sam recognizes with a flare of anger. He gasps.“What?” Dean asks. “What did she show you?”“Magda.” Sam whispers. “Ketch, he-“The creature finishes for him, turning to Dean. Do not trust those who claim to be your friends. They kill children. She turns to Sam. I believe this is a hunt that belongs to you. I give it to you, now Samuel Winchester. Sam nods, feeling anger and sadness swirling inside him.“Where will you go now?” He asks her.She looks at the sky, closing her one eye for a moment. I will go where I am needed. But I think I am almost done. I have you to thank for that, Samuel. I have paid the debt I owe to you in the only way I know how. Again, her words are private, and Sam can feel them reaching places deep inside of him. We may not meet again but our souls are connected now. I am honored to have been saved by you, Sam Winchester.Sam responds to her, not with words but with thought. And I by you.She reaches out and touches his head again, then Dean’s. Sam’s exhausted limbs are filled with a new strength and the ache in his shoulders fades away. He sees Dean stand straighter. Then the creature turns and walks into the trees, her dark coat disappearing through the underbrush.Dean turns to his brother. “What did she say to you?” He asks.Sam thinks for a moment before answering, “Something I needed to hear.” The hunter realizes that there are tears on his cheeks. He doesn’t wipe them away.~~~~The brothers are both exhausted by the time they make it back to the bunker. Dean heads straight to bed and, as much as Sam wants to sleep, he feels like he can’t just yet, anger at Magda’s unnecessary death filling his veins. So he goes into the library planning to do some research on Nephilim until he can’t stay awake anymore.Sam stands in front of the bookshelf, looking for the tome on angelic creatures he knows is there somewhere, but another book catches his eye. It seems to call to him and Sam pulls it from the shelf to examine it. The spine is marked with fading letters, Natural History, Vol. 8 Pliny the Elder. Sam moves to the table, eyes not shifting from the book. He sits, opens to a random page that somehow doesn’t feel completely random, and reads. ‘Among the same people is also found the animal called the Yale, the size of a hippopotamus, with an elephant’s tail, of black or dark brown in color, with the jaws of a boar and horns more than a cubit in length capable of being moved and which in a fight are raised alternately and presented to the attack or sloped backward in turn as opportunity requires.’ Sam sets the book aside, pulling his laptop from the duffle at his feet. He boots it up and types, ‘yale mythical creature’, into the search engine, scrolling down and clicking on a link. ‘For two centuries following Pliny’s account, the Yale received little mention, but then it began to appear with increasing regularity in bestiaries and other accounts, eventually finding a place in medieval heraldry. It first appeared in the heraldry of Henry IV’s younger son John, and gradually was put to use elsewhere. In the 15th and 16th century, many prominent individuals with ties to the royal family incorporated the Yale into their heraldry, after which it passed once more into relative obscurity. Because of its prowess in battle, the Yale came to symbolize “proud defense” in medieval heraldry.’ He smiles to himself, closing his laptop and the book and walking to his room, an idea forming in his mind.~~~~After hours of working, Sam opens his door and stands in the hallway, the small wooden shield he had found in one hand, a screwdriver in the other. He stares at his door for a moment, then nods.It only takes him a minute to unscrew the Men of Letters symbol that is hung on his door and another minute to replace it with the shield. When he is done, Sam steps back and admires his work. He examines the Yale he painted on the wood. All the images he had found on the internet showed the creature with one horn forward and the other back. His Yale only has one horn that faces forward, leaving what is behind it alone. Sam smiles, going into his room and finally feeling like he can sleep.
10769583	Ron as Q	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Sirius Black, Ron Weasley", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Icarus", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2006-06-16T00:00:00", "words": "197", "Additional Tags": "Drabble", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Mood Lifters", "Collections": "The Quidditch Pitch", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	"No! Don't touch that!" Ron yelled. He was too late. Yellow sparks flew and Sirius ducked away from the platform. The sleek Muggle automobile shrank to the size of a rat, and then down to something like a large black tick. It crawled under the platform. Ron struggled after it, then picked it up with a pair of tweezers and dropped it into a beaker. "I think it has a few bugs in it," Sirius observed with a dry smile. "It is a bug," Ron explained with an exaggerated sigh. "You can't use your wand as Padfoot, right? Can't Apparate?" He rattled the beaker and the bug slid in circles. "This'll burrow into your fur and all you'll have to do is scratch it and - Bam! You have a getaway car. It flies too," he added. Ron had gone far beyond his father's casual interest in Muggle toys. "Interesting." Sirius peered into the beaker curiously. On closer examination it was still shaped like a car. "How am I supposed to drive it if I'm a dog?" Ron gave him a blank look. The techs behind him fell silent. "Okay, so it has a few bugs in it."
10755963	New guy in town	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Ash (Sing), Original Male Character(s), Rosita (Sing), Meena (Sing), Mike (Sing), Buster Moon, Eddie Noodleman, Gunter (Sing), Lance (Sing), Becky (Sing), Johnny (Sing)", "Fandom": "Sing (2016)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by divenjay", "chapters": "17/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-28T00:00:00", "words": "42,190", "Additional Tags": "Romance, Eventual Romance, Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Rock and Roll, Glam Rock, Ash sings everything from vixen to FFDP, new look for Ash, hell yeah!!!! 80's rock to heavy metal, thrash metal.., buckle up for a wild ride.., song heavy", "Relationship": "Ash (Sing)/Original Male Character(s)", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	The sun was just rising over the mountian and filtering down through the trees. One ray hit Doug in the face and at first he liked the warmth of it, but then bacame annoyed because he was now awake. He went to stretch an slammed his knee into the gearshift. "Dammit!" He shouted rubbing his knee."why am i sleeping in my jeep?" was his next thought.Then he remembered he got into the campground early in the morning an decided to set up camp when the sun came up."Well suns up time to set up camp"He thought to himself as he got out of the Jeep grabbed his tent bag an a hammer. Within an hour he had his new home set up. A 3 room cabin tent, one side filled with clothes the othe side his notebooks an other paperwork.Once that was finished he headed off to the showers to remove the funk of a 3 day drive. Stepping out of the shower he looked at himself in the mirror. "Well you did it, you left that miserable life of almost 18 years behind you now it's time to start over." he thought.He stopped in at the campground lodge an saw the owner Mark. He was an older wolf probably somewhere in his late 40's to early 50's he figured. He saw Dougs guitar cases last night an said he had a secure room he could use. Doug was putting the last of his 5 guitar cases in the room when Mark watched him run his hand across the airbrushed design on the case an said." Soon my old friend, soon"Doug was snapped back to reality when he heard Mark say." Alot if memories there huh"As he nodded to the case."Yeah, good an bad" Doug said as he locked the door to the room. He asked Mark for directions to the theater downtown and pulled out of the lodge. It was a 30 minute ride to town but the sun was warm and with the wind blowing through his quills it wouldn't have mattered if it took him all day. _________________________________ A ray of sun peaked through the curtain an hit Ash directly in the face. She stirred a bit, yawned, streached and rubbed her eyes.Her clock was showing 11:24."Ahh it is nice to actually sleep in for once" she thought.Well actually it was nice to, well actually sleep. Sleep was of the things coming hard to Ash. It has been a few months since the show an yeah her song is a big hit an all, but her home is so quiet now so lonely. She got out of bed an ran her finger across the end of her dresser listing to the silence. There was a time the room would have been filled with Lances snoring and the smell of his scent. "Ugh seriously Ash come on already!!!" she screamed at herself.He is a lying, cheating no good piece of garbage . She reminded herself, but she still needed a distraction so as she put coffee on she called Rosita and asked if she wanted to go see how the rebuild was going. ______________________________________Rosita's phone rang an she looked an saw it was Ash. She picked up an Ash asked if she wanted to go into town to the theater. She told her sure and she would be there in 20 minutes. With that she yelled to Norman to watch the kids she will be back later.Ash heard Rosita's van pull up, she grabbed her coffee cup and headed outside. She climbed in the van an said"Morning Rosita how are you?""It's afternoon honey" Rosita laughed "I'm fine though thanks"Ash just lounged back in her seat. Rosita was going on about everything happing at home. Ash listened an nodded she didn't mind she was just glad to be around someone. ________________________________Mark's directions were perfect an Doug pulled up just outside the theater an parked just up the street. He looked in his mirror an took a deep breath an said."Ok lets do this" as he got out of the jeep. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Buster opened the door to his new theater an thought to himself."Its coming along nicely"He looked at the new stage all the new practice rooms everything was almost compleate. Then he groaned when looked at the stacks of rolled up wires an other various electronic components. Yes Eddie was great on the board but putting everything together well that's another story. He has been trying desperately for the last few weeks to find someone with no luck. He was heading upstairs when there was a knock on the theaters front door."Odd I'm not expecting anyone today" Buster thoughtHe walked back over an opened the front door. There stood a porcupine he has never seen before. He figured he couldn't be much older than Ash, he staired at him an said."Can i help you?"Doug stood there nervously after knocking on the door. When it opened there stood a koala in his mid 40's Doug figured. The koala staired intently at him and asked if he could help him. Doug told him he was new in town an looking for work. Buster told him that unfortunately the rebuild was almost compleate an he wasn't realky looking for any help. Doug understood an said thank you as he went to turn away when Buster said."wait i need someone who can run wireing and hook up control boards can you possibly do that?"Doug looked him smiled an said"yeah show me what you need done"Buster walked him through the theater showing him the practice rooms an then the main stage setup. Taking notes Doug told Buster that alone it would take about a month if he could get some help 2 an a half to 3 weeks. Buster told him to back on Monday an he would see about getting him some help. With that they shook hands an Doug went to leave. ________________________________________The town wasn't too hectic an Rosita parked about 2 blocks away. She was still going on about something but Ash wasn't paying attention anymore, she was stairing at a bright green Jeep parked just up from the theater. It wasn't the color that got her attention it was all the stickers. Band stickers dozens of them. Metal, glam, punk. Then she saw the scuffs all over the interior an she knew what cased them Guitar cases.Rosita noticed the Jeep Ash was fixated on an said. "Wow that's bright I've never seen that around town before."Ash didn't hear anything Rosita was saying because she was stairing at the back of the drivers seat where a lone quill was sticking out.Rosita saw this too an nudged Ash an said."Looks like we may have someone new in town"Ash just nodded never taking her eyes off the quill. Rosita tried the door to the theater an it was locked. She figured Buster wasn't there an looked up to see Ash wandering down the sidewalk. After seeing that Jeep an quill she was in lala land. She caught up with Ash an told her no one was there an they should get a drink. Ash was lost in thought, She was trying to comprehend not only a new porcupine in town one that also had the same musical interests as her.She looked up an relized she walked right by the theater. Rosita caught up with her an said lets get a drink. Ash nodded an they went into the cafe."Ahh that's what i needed to clear the fuzziness out" Ash thought as she drank her soda. They were walking out of the cafe when Ash saw him. He was coming out of the theater talking with Buster. He was in black Doc Martin boots black jeans an a tight fitting band shirt. She almost walked into a light post not paying attention."Ash honey are you ok,"Rosita asked then she looked up the street and said"Ohhhhhhh now i see" an smirked at Ash."What" Ash said looking at Rosita. "ok, ok yeah he looked cute so what".Rosita just laughed and headed up the street towards the theater as Ash watched Doug drive out of sight. _________________________________Buster was again headed upstairs when another knock came at the door."Now who could this be?" Buster thought as he headed back to the door an opened it. When the door opened there stood Ash an Rosita. Buster said hi an Rosita said the same but Ash was still looking up the street in the direction that green Jeep drove off.Ash felt a tap on her shoulder and heard Buster say."Hello Ash you with us?"She shook her head clear an said "Huh, what, oh yeah,hi Buster"Rosita was laughing hysterically and said to Buster."Don't mind Ash Buster she is still daydreaming of whoever that was who just left here""I am not!!!!!!" Ash yelled, not really believing it herself. "but anyway, so who was he?"Buster told her that his name was Doug an he was doing all the audio and video connections here in the theater. An when the theater is done he will be trying out for a spot in the theater group. Buster looked at Ash an said."I think he thinks he's some kind of rockstar" An with that being said he excused himself from Rosita an the now wide eyed Ash an headed back upstairs. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It was 7:30 Monday morning an Buster was suprised to see Doug sitting in his jeep by the theater. As he walked up to the door Doug got out of the jeep an said."Good morning"Buster returned the greeting an said."Eager to start i see"Doug nodded an entered the theater. He went right to work in the practice rooms. Buster watched him for a little while an was kind of amazed that someone so young knew so much about all this stuff. Stringing the wires plugging everything in where it belonged it was impressive. Doug found it really easy to get these rooms done all the supplies were top notch an he couldn't wait to try out the setups. Doug was a week into the practice rooms an had almost half of them ready for testing. He was under the control board in the one room when he heard Buster call his name. He went to stsnd up smacked his head into the edge of the frame."Owww!! crap!!"" Doug yelled standing up rubbing his head.He looked an Buster was standing there with a gorilla Doug guessed in his late teens. Buster said."Doug meet Johnny, Johnny this is Doug"Doug reached out an shook his hand. Buster said Johnny can help you with the rest of the rooms and the stage set up. Doug looked at Johnny who stood there an nodded.Buster asked the 2 of them if they could get the stage set done before the last 4 rooms. Doug agreed and over the next week Johnny an him got the stage done. During this time he got to know Johnny an a friendship was forming he also got to meet Rosita an Meena.Doug thought she was nice an could tell by her loving an caring personality she was a mom. Gunter showed up one day an Doug couldn't believe how much energy that pig had. In fact the only people he hadn't met from the group was Mike. He was told he never comes around an is not really missed. The other was Ash. Johnny had talked about her a little an he remembered seeing her on tv the night of the show. They were hooking up the last few connections on the stage when Doug asked."Hey Johnny does is Ash still around here?"Johnny looked at him nodded an asked why."Just wondering" Doug said "haven't met her yet""She's around" Johnny said "She usually comes in with Rosita"Well everything on stage was done and ready for a test. Doug looked at Johnny and pointed at the piano."You wanna help me test this stuff out?"Johnny smiled and said."Sure what are we playing?"Doug thought for a minute an asked"Do you know, Always, by Bon Jovi?"Johnny thought for a second an nodded. Doug went and yelled for Buster and opened his prized guitar case. _________________________________Ash had retreated back to her home the last couple of weeks. Rosita has asked her to go to the theater a couple times but she just didn't feel like it. She wished she could just shake this mood off but she didn't know how. She has even lost her desire to play an to her this was the most devastating. Ash finally caved in to Rosita's constant harping an told her she would come with her today. She was pouring herself a cup of coffee when she heard Rosita knock. "come on in Rosita doors open" she yelled an poured a second cup of coffee for her.The two girls finished there coffee an were walking out of Ash's place when Rosita nodded towards Ash's guitar case."why don't you bring that today honey, i hear some of the practice rooms are ready." Rosita saidAsh looked at her case. At one point they were inseparable but lately it's been staying home. She looked at Rosita who was giving her a begging look. She sighed an said." Ok Rosita maybe it will help my mood" but Ash doubted it. _______________________________ Buster came down from his office to see Doug over at the control board with a laptop setting up something an Johnny uncovering the piano. Buster was looking at them confused when Doug came up an told him they were ready to give the system a run through an thought he would like to be here. Buster thanked him but couldn't help stairing at the guitar sitting on the stand. "was that Dougs guitar?" Buster thought It was beautiful an from what Buster could see it didn't look cheap either."Who is this guy" Buster wondered Doug explained to Buster how the track removal system works even though he knew Eddie would be the one running it. Doug set up everything to the remote switch since Eddie wasn't there today. Doug picked up his guitar slipped the strap over his head. ran his hand across the body nodded to Johnny took a deep breath an. _________________________________________Rosita an Ash picked up Meena and the 3 girls headed to the theater. Ash was getting her case out when Meena said."Oh good Ash your going to play today"Ash just nodded and when they walked in they heard the sound of the piano through the theater. They hurried to the main hall an saw Jonny an Doug on stage they quickly sat down in the back row to watch. Ash was just sitting there stairing at that guitar. "Oh my god that thing is beautiful" she thought.Johnny lead them into the song and Ash watched Doug run his hand across this airbrushed design on his guitar walked up to the mic and sang. "This Romeo is bleeding But you can't see his blood It's nothing but some feelings That this old dog kicked upIt's been raining since you left me Now I'm drowning in the flood You see I've always been a fighter But without you I give upNow I can't sing a love song Like the way it's meant to be Well, I guess I'm not that good anymore But, baby, that's just meAnd I will love you, baby, always And I'll be there forever and a day, always I'll be there 'til the stars don't shine 'Til the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme And I know when I die, You'll be on my mind And I'll love you alwaysNow your pictures that you left behind Are just memories of a different life Some that made us laugh, some that made us cry One that made you have to say goodbye What I'd give to run my fingers through your hair To touch your lips, to hold you near When you say your prayers, try to understand I've made mistakes, I'm just a manWhen he holds you close, when he pulls you near When he says the words you've been needing to hear I'll wish I was him 'cause those words are mine To say to you 'til the end of timeYeah, I will love you, baby, always And I'll be there forever and a day, alwaysIf you told me to cry for you I could If you told me to die for you I would Take a look at my face There's no price I won't pay To say these words to youWell, there ain't no luck In these loaded dice But, baby, if you give me just one more try We can pack up our old dreams and our old lives We'll find a place where the sun still shinesAnd I will love you, baby, always And I'll be there forever and a day, always I'll be there 'til the stars don't shine 'Til the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme And I know when I die, You'll be on my mind And I'll love you, always" Buster was amazed at Dougs performance an was eager to hear more. "one more, one more please" Buster begged Doug thanked Johnny for playing, an he put his guitar down."Ok something special" Doug said He saw a couple of figures in the back he couldn't make them out clearly but he was pretty sure he knew who was there. He loaded up the system and walked up to the mic an hit the switch.Rosita an Ash shot stright up in their chairs when they heard the intro start. Rosita grew up in that era an Ash loving rock both new the song an neither could believe he was doing it. Doug took a deep breath closed his eyes an sang.Woke up to the sound of pouring rain The wind would whisper and I'd think of you And all the tears you cried – they called my name And when you needed me I came throughPaint a picture of the days gone by When love went blind and you would make me see I'd stare a lifetime into your eyes So that I knew that you were there for me Time after time you were there for meRemember yesterday - walking hand in hand Love letters in the sands - I remember you And through the sleepless nights, through every endless day I wanna hear you say, "I remember you."We spent the summer with the top rolled down Wished ever after would be like this You said I love you babe, without a sound I said I'd give my life for just one kiss I'd live for your smile and die for your kissRemember yesterday - walking hand in hand Love letters in the sands - I remember you And through the sleepless nights, through every endless day I wanna hear you say, "I remember you."We've had our share of hard times But that's the price we paid And through it all we kept the promise that we made I swear you'll never be lonelyWoke up to the sound of pouring rain Washed away a dream of you But nothing else could ever take you away 'Cause you'll always be my dream come true Oh my darling, I love youRemember yesterday - walking hand in hand Love letters in the sands - I remember you Through the sleepless nights, through every endless day I wanna hear you say, "I remember you."Remember yesterday - walking hand in hand Love letters in the sands - I remember you. Through all the sleepless nights, through every endless day I wanna hear you say, "I remember, I remember you!"Rosira looked at Ash during the song an she was leaning on the seat in front of her chin in her hands just lost in his voice. Rosita smiled an thought." well maybe Ash will finally open up to someone"Buster was dumbfounded he also grew up in the 80's an never heard anyone get that close to matching that song."Bravo, Bravo" Buster yelled. Doug came down an was talking to Buster when the other 3 walked down. Doug looked over an said " Hello Rosita, Meena how are you tod..."That's when he finally saw Ash an he thought she was beautiful. Converse sneakers ,jeans ,plaid skirt, shirt with 2 quills stuck through it. "an those eyes god those eyes" Doug thought "a blue so bright you could get lost in them"He stood there took off his sunglasses an said "Hi"Ash walked up with the others still in shock at the beautiful sound of his voice. When they got to the stage Doug said hi to Rosita an Meena an stopped dead when he saw her. He took off his sunglasses an Ash had never seen eyes like his. They were a deep chocolate brown but almost half of each eye was a bright emerald green. She just staired into them an she heard him say hi.A slight nudge from Rosita broke her out of her trance." hi I'm Ash" She finally said."well, well, well looks like i am gonna have 2 rockstars here soon" Buster said Rosita was a little sad that Ash didn't play today but she figured she will be playing alot more soon. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The next week Johnny an Doug ran tests on the four rooms that were done an everything checked out fine. They told Buster the rooms were ready to be used an they should have the last four finished in the next two weeks. Buster was thrilled and told the rest of the group they can start working on new routines next Monday. Rosita was happy to be picking Ash up almost every day this week. Her attitude seemed at least a little better an she was carrying her case around again. She had also noticed Ash had been talking to Doug alot too. Just your everyday small talk but it was a start. __________________________________________ She pulled up in front of Ash's place an honked the horn. Ash came out with her guitar case but no coffee cup. As she got in she said."Morning Rosita, can we stop at the coffee shop? I was running late this morning and didn't make any." Rosita nodded an they picked up Meena an headed downtown. Inside the coffee shop Rosita ordered a regular coffee, Meena got a hot tea, Ash walked up an asked for an extra large dark roast with three extra shots of triple caffeine expresso. Rosita looked at Ash an asked.Umm honey are you sure that's good for you? You know because of your size.?Ash got her cup an took a big sip an said."Ahhhh good, an don't worry Rosita i get them all the time" Rosita nodded still looking at Ash a little uneasy. ______________________________________The three walked into the theater an saw Doug an Johnny talking to Buster.Rosita an Meena said hi to everyone an started walking back to the rooms when they heard Ash say."Morning Johnny, Buster, morning rockstar." They both turned around an saw Ash tap her coffee cup to Dougs an they both said."triple caffeine expresso." and laughed. Ash caught up with the other two an said.'come on are we practicing today or not?"As she walked by them an into the back.They day was nearly over an Johnny an Doug were picking up when Buster popped his head in."Great work this week guys thank you."They both nodded an Doug asked about coming in tomorrow to play some things.. Buster thought a minute and told him ok an to be here at 7 he will open the theater for him then he had to go to a meeting. Rosita heard this an asked Buster if her an Ash could come in tomorrow too. Buster nodded an said the doors will be open at 7. _______________________________________Doug met Buster a 7 an thanked him again. He walked in an turned power on to the stage an surrounding areas. He hooked in his laptop put a small set list in the program. He left his guitar on the stand walked up to the mic drew in a deep breath an hit the switch. ___________________________________________Ash had the coffee on when Rosita knocked on her door. She gave her a travel mug full grabbed her own an they headed out to the van. "What are we up to today" Ash asked "oh just going downtown stopping to see Buster an then shopping" Rosita said. smirking to herself.They turned the corner by the theater an Dougs jeep was parked out front. Ash saw the jeep smiled then relized what Rosita was doing. She looked at her an said." you knew he was going to be here didn't you""oh, no, no, no honey i had no idea" she said trying to sound convincing."ummmmmmhmmmmmm" replied Ash just stairing at her with her arms crossed.They walked in the theater an it sounded like a harmonica and an acoustic guitar playing. They walked into the main hall an saw Doug standing on stage holding the mic stand and he started to sing."A little past suppertimeI'm still out on the porch step sitting on my behind,Waiting for you.Wondering if everything is alright.Momma said, "Come in boy, don't waste your time." I said, "I've got time.Well, he'll be here soon."Five years old and talking to myself.Where were you? Where'd you go?Daddy, can't you tell?I'm not trying to fake itAnd I ain't the one to blame.There's no one homeIn my house of pain.I didn't write these pagesAnd my script's been rearranged.No, there's no one homeIn my house of painWasn't I worth the time?A boy needs a daddy like a dance to mime and all the timeI looked up to you.I paced my room a million times.And all I ever got was on big line, the same old lie.How could you?Well, I was eighteen and still talking to myself.Where were you? Where'd you go?Daddy can't you tell?I'm not trying to fake itAnd I ain't the one to blame.There's no one homeIn my house of painI didn't write these pagesAnd my script's been rearranged.No, there's no one homeIn my house of pain" "And I'm alone again."They sat there in stunned silence. As Doug wiped his eyes with a bandanna. The pain, the sorrow in his voice. That was no stage act it was real. Then they heard him say "Well, if I learned anything from this...it's how to live on my own"Rosita looked at Ash an swore she saw a tear on her cheak. She nudged her an Ash looked at her. "Go talk to him "she mouthedAsh thought for a minute an then nodded took a breath stood up an picked up her case Doug wiped his eyes an took some deep breaths an was working on regaining his composure when her heard Ash say softly."Hey rockstar, you ok?"He looked up an saw her standing by the front of the stage guitar case in hand. "yeah i'm ok i guess, just some old memories came back" He said looking back down."you wanna talk about it?" Ash askedDoug shook his head. "not ready yet for that, rather just play" he looked at her."will you play with me?Ash just stood there looking at him."play with him? really oh my i haven't played with anyone in quite awhile.. ummmm " Ash thought.She nodded walked up on stage and took out her guitar.Rosita couldn't believe what she was seeing. Ash was actually going to play an play with someone no less.. She pulled out her phone an texted Buster.Busters meeting was pushed back till Monday afternoon an he was about a block from the theater when his phone went off.Text message Rosita: Buster if you close get back to the theater. Ash is going to play with Doug!!!Buster almost dropped his phone at this an he quickly stuffed his phone in his pocket an ran for the theater.He got there an sat down next to Rosita in the back an watched the two rockstars tune an get ready.Doug asked Ash if she ever used a wireless adapter an she shook her head no. He reached out to hook up her guitar an she shied away. He look at her an said "sorry" An held out the adapter. She took it an said."it's not you.. i got some bad memories too i guess"He nodded an when her adapter was linked he said."ok what are we playing?""you pick" she said adjusting her strap."you know 80's?" he askedAsh nodded an he thought for a minute an finally said."fallen angel"Ash smiled an nodded."ok you want lead guitar, vocals, or both?" Doug askedAsh just looked at him no one ever asked her this. she either played by herself or was told what to play. She though about it an said."guitar""cool" Doug said as he tuned for rythem. "we gotta share the mic" Doug told her "i wasn't expecting anyone else today."Ash nodded an said."lets do it!"An she led them into the song Doug leaned into the mic an sang"She stepped off the bus out into the city streetsJust a small town girl with her whole lifePacked in a suitcase by her feetBut somehow the lights didn'tshine as bright as they didOn her mama's TV screenAnd the work seemed harderAnd the days seemed longerThan she ever thought they'd beBut you know you got to stick to your gunsWhen it all comes downCause sometimes you can't chooseIt's like heads they winTails you're gonna lose"Doug an Ash sing"Win big--Mama's fallen angelLose big--living out her liesWants it all--Mama's fallen angelLose it all, rolling the dice of her life"Doug;"Now she found herself in the fast lane living day to dayTurned her back on her best friends, yeahAnd let her family slip awayJust like a lost soulcaught up in the Hollywood sceneAll the parties and the limousinesSuch a good actress hiding all her painTrading her memories for fortune and fameJust a step away from the edge of a fallCaught between heaven and hellWhere's the girl I knew a year ago"Doug an Ash:"Win big--Mama's fallen angelLose big--living out her liesWants it all--Mama's fallen angelLose it all, rolling the dice of her life"Doug:"Too much too soonOr just a little too lateCause when her ship came inShe wasn't there and it just wouldn't wait"Ash nailed the guitar solo Buster an Rosita were shocked. Its been so long they almost forgot how good she was. Even Doug was stairing an smiling. Doug an Ash:"Win big--Mama's fallen angelLose big--living out her liesWants it all--Mama's fallen angelLose it all, rolling the dice of her lifeWin big--Mama's fallen angelLose big--living out her liesWants it all--Mama's fallen angelLose it all, rolling the dice of her life" When they finished they put there guitars on the stands an looked at each other."feeling any better rockstar?" Ash asked Doug took his glasses off looked at her an said."yeah thanks" Then they heard Busters voice from the back of the theater." Bravo, you two sound amazing together, that was great" Ash looked out an saw Rosita walking up she could see her looking back an forth at her an Doug an smiling. She shot Rosita a "don't even try it kind of look" An Rosita just rolled her eyes an laughed. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Doug didn't do much on Sunday just chilled out at his site drinking coffee and actually writing again. He couldn't explain it. It all came back to him all at once. He got up that morning and instantly wanted to put pencil to paper. He spent the whole day writing lyrics and playing his acoustic at his campsite. For once he felt relaxed. ____________________________________________Monday morning Rosita pulled up in front of Ash's place and was about to blow the horn when she saw the door open an Ash cone out. She was carrying her big coffee cup in one hand an her guitar case in the other. She was walking quickly with her head down. Rosita knew this walk an knew it was not going to be a good day."How are you doing this morning honey?" Rosita asked.Ash just put her case in the van an growled lowly, sitting down in the backseat gulping her coffee. Rosita hung her head as she put the van in drive."Again?" Was all Rosita had to say.Ash growled again looked up from her coffee an said."All fuckin night Rosita. texting, calling then i shut my phone off he showed up an knocked till my neighbor threatened him with the cops" Ash yawned and leaned against the window."Oh I'm so sorry honey, he is such a jerk"She just nodded an put her head back against the window. They stopped and picked up Meena she climbed in an said "good morning Rosita, Ash"Ash just growled again..Meena looked at Rosita and said "Again?"Rosita just nodded an drove off towards the theater. When they arrived Ash got out an headed stright for one of the practice rooms. Buster looked at Rosita and he didn't need to ask. Rosita just nodded an Buster just dropped an shook his head. Doug arrived a little late this morning. There was a very long line at the coffee shop, but he finally made it an he had his extra large cup of liquid caffeine. He walked in an instantly heard the scream of a guitar. He hurried back to the practice rooms and saw Rosita an Meena standing by one, he heard Rosita say. "God i wish he would just leave her alone already"Meena nodded in agreement neither saw Doug walk up and they jumped a little when he said. "Morning ladies" Then he heard Ash sing: "I was in the shadows and you were blocking my light Didn't know for two years that I was living your lie You covered all your tracks so perfectly clear You never talked, told me everything I wanted to hearOh, I never thought I'd hear myself say: "Go, get out of my life, outta my bed, you're wasting my time Just go! This time for sure, we're so no more! Conversation over!"Go! Get out! Go, go! Get out! Go, go!"Doug put his case down and leaned on it watching Ash sing. Rosita chuckled as she remembered that's how Ash looked watching Doug sing that day. Then she heard Doug say."an i thought you couldn't get anymore beautiful"Doug had this feeling he was being staired at at he noticed Rosita an Meena were stairing at him an smirking. "I said that out loud didn't I?" he asked.They both nodded an he just facepalmed himself.Rosita laughing hysterically said"Don't worry honey we wont say anything"Meena giggled nodding in agreement. __________________________________________Ash was all into the song letting the anger an frustration flow out into the lyrics, shredding the guitar. She knew Rosita an Meena were watching but she felt like someone else was too. She looked an saw Doug standing there watching her intently. She actually felt a little better seeing him there an motioned him in. Doug opened the door to the room an got blasted by the sound of Ash's guitar an her singing."You had it all, had everything then you threw it all away I tried but couldn't get you higher than the cocaine I'm sick and tired of trying to save your life Only you can!Never thought I'd hear myself say: "Go, get out of my life, outta my bed, you're wasting my time Just go! This time for sure, we're so no more! Conversation over!"Go! Get out! Go, go! Get out! Go, go!" Ash finished an put her guitar down on the stand walked over an took a big gulp of coffee. Doug just looked at her an said."wow a little hardcore this morning Ash"She looked down an quietly said,"yeah"Doug walked over by the board an hit a button. Ash saw Rosita an Meena look at each other confused an started pressing the outside buttons. Ash just chuckled an said "mute switch?"Doug laughed and nodded. Then looked at her an asked."whats the matter Ash?"Ash just looked down an said."just trying to release some frustration.""wanna talk about it?" Doug askedAsh shook her head no an said."not ready too, just wanna play some more"Doug nodded an flipped the mute switch off an said."ok lets rage then""you rage, mr. 80's rock" Ash laughedDoug put on a set of jet black sunglasses an took of his jacket. He turned to Ash an said."Oh you have no idea" and smiled an evil grin.Ash walked to her case an pulled out a small studded case opened it and pulled out a pair of sunglasses almost identical to Dougs.She looked at him an asked." Ok what are we raging too?Doug looked over an saw Ash with those glasses on an his grin got bigger. "Way of the fist" he said Rosita an Meena were now joined by Johnny an Buster an none of them knew that song.Ash got the same evil smile and thought "yes"She went to the board and loaded the song."You got volcals right?"Ash asked"Yeah back me up an lets change it up a little,join me on the "step to me" versus"Ash nodded an hit the switch.Everyones eyes got huge when Ash started playing. This was very hard an very fast then Doug sang. "You want it, you got it Everything you needed and more You said it, I heard it Careful what you wish for Deleted, defeated everything you've ever been No mercy, it's the way of the fist Strapped with rage, got no patience for victims Sick and tired of the whole fuckin' world"Ash sings: "I don't remember asking you about your imperfections You might win one battle But know this, I'll win the fucking war!End of the goddamn road! (Right!)"They both sing: "Step to me, step to me motherfucker Zip your lip, you've run out of time Step to me, step to me motherfucker Talk the talk, now walk the damn line"Doug sing. "Deserve it, you earned it, got yourself a fuckin' war Believe it, you need it, face down on the fuckin' floor I hate it, can't take it Wanna break your fuckin' bones No mercy, you faggot Should've left it all alone Strapped with rage, got no patience for victims Sick and tired of the whole fuckin' world"Ash sings: "I don't remember asking you about your imperfections You might win one battle But know this, I'll win the fucking war!As you crash and burn 1, 2, fuck you! (Right!)"Both sing "Step to me, step to me motherfucker Zip your lip, you've run out of time Step to me, step to me motherfucker Talk the talk, now walk the damn line! Step to me, step to me motherfucker Shut your face, it's your turn to die Step to me, step to me anybody Talk the shit, your ass is mine!I don't remember asking you about your imperfections You might win one battle But know this, I'll win the fucking war!"They finished the song looked at each other an laughed. Ash said"ok is there anything rock related you can't sing""Honestly not that i found yet" Doug said.Doug looked at the window an laughed. There was the whole group just stairing at them in shock. Doug picked up his guitar an said."Ok your turn"The group watched the two teens rock hard an fast for another hour. Ash getting happier with each song sung. Then they went on to their own things. It was going on 11:30 when Ash an Doug finally had to stop. They were both hot an tired an were ready to take five. They put their guitars away an Doug asked."You want to grab lunch"Ash nodded yes, but when he reached for her hand she backed away again. Ash looked at him, her eyes said sorry. Doug thought for a second.He just held out his hand an looked at her. Ash looked at him an smiled. She walked over an put her hand in his an they headed for the main hall.Everyone was near the stage discussing lunch ideas when Meena started tapping Rosita an motioned towards the practice rooms. Rosita looked an smiled coming towards them was Ash an Doug hand in hand."Were heading out for lunch, anyone want to join us?" Ash asked They all politely declined an told them to have fun.The walked down to the corner cafe an got an outside table. They were there about an hour, Ash was telling Doug about the town an the competition an he told her about his experiences at the music store where he used to live. They were having a great time till Ash looked up the street an this look of anger an dread came across her."What's the matter Ash" Doug asked concerned.She motioned up the street an when he turned around he saw an older black van coming down the street. The side had an airbrushed mural of a guitar an some music notes. It rolled up slow an Doug could see the porcupine driving was probably about two or three years older than them an he was eyeing Doug. Doug felt his quills stiffen an he stood up an took of his glasses. The people behind him quickly moved so they wouldn't get quilled if anything happened. The guy dropped his glasses back down an took off. Doug relaxed his quills came back down to the relief of the other patrons. He sat back down an looked at Ash. ."The source of your frustration an bad memories." He said " yeah his name is Lance" She saidDoug was able to get her back in a good mood again an they walked back to the theater. Everyone was getting ready to leave when Doug handed Ash a piece of paper."My number, call me anytime you need anything, an i mean it anytime for anything" Doug said Ash nodded an put it in her phone right away. Doug waved to everyone and told them he would see them tomarrow. Ash climbed in the van an sat back. Rosita looked in the mirror an said."we never heard you play like that before Ash""Yeah that's what I really like to play Rosita" Ash replied "Then why haven't you been doing it?" she askedAsh sighed an said."because i had nobody to play it with me""Well it looks like you have someone to play with now" Rosita said.Ash looked at her in the mirror nodded an smiled then looked back out the window. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Doug was just about to lay down when his phone went off. He jumped up thinking Ash needed something but it was only a message from Buster"Buster: no work or practice tomorrow i will be out of town all day, collaborate with each other an enjoy the day"Doug turned off his alarm an laid down. He was about asleep when his phone went off again."Ash: Hey rockstar The girls an I are heading to the park tomorrow with our portable equipment you wanna come?"Doud replied he would be there an he thinks Mark has a portable amp he could use. Finally with all that done he was able to lay down an get some sleep. _____________________________________________ Ash sent Doug directions that morning an he met up with the girls in the one parking lot. Ash told him the park has spots where you can feed a meeter an have power for your equipment. They put Dougs equipment in Rosita's van an Ash said."Ok lets check it out an see if a spot is open "Meena told them if they find one she will hold it while they get their stuff. With that the 4 of them walked into the park.They were walking along when all of a sudden they heard what sounded like a violin but with rock overtones. Ash scanned the performers an pointed out a female lynx playing over near the main fountain. She had a portable amp an track removal system but it wasn't plugged in. Ash figured she was trying to raise money to feed the power meeter.Ash walked over an watched her play. When she was finished she looked an saw Ash standing there. He eyes got big an she said."oh my god you're Ash.. I'm a huge fan..oh my god i can't believe I'm talking to you here"Ash smiled an said."You play beautifully let me ask you do you know "Shatter Me?""By Lindsey Stirling with Lizzy Hale right?" the lynx asked.Ash nodded an the lynx said."sure why do you ask?Ash went over an put some bills in the meeter an plugged in her equipment. The lynx just staired at her then Ash said."Play it with me""oh my god really?!?" the lynx said wide eyed.. Ash nodded an picked up the mic the lynx set up the song and hit play.A crowd was already gathering around the pair as Ash closed her eyes an sang," I pirouette in the dark I see the stars through a mirror Tired mechanical heart Beats 'til the song disappearsSomebody shine a light I'm frozen by the fear in me Somebody make me feel alive And shatter me So cut me from the line Dizzy, spinning endlessly Somebody make me feel alive And shatter meShatter me! Somebody make me feel alive And shatter meIf only the clockwork could speak I wouldn't be so alone We'd burn every magnet and spring And spiral into the unknownIf I break the glass then I'll have to fly There's no one to catch me if I take a dive I'm scared of changing The days stay the same The world is spinning but only in gray If I break the glass then I'll have to fly There's no one to catch me if I take a dive I'm scared of changing The days stay the same The world is spinning but only in gray (Only...)Me...! Shatter me! Somebody make me feel alive And shatter me!" They finished the song an the crowed applauded an cheered they nearly filled the box the lynx had out for tips. She looked at Ash said thank you an was trying to figure out how to hug her without getting stuck.. Ash laughed an said."Through the quills not over them."The lynx did an gave Ash a big hug an said "Thank you so much"Ash nodded an returned to the others."Ash that was beautiful" Rosita said.Meena an Doug were still wide eyed at the performance and nodded in agreement.Ash laughed at them both an said."come on lets grab that spot an set up"They got their equipment fed the meeter an set up a crowd was forming near them now. They were just messing around doing guitar solos and just having fun.Ash turned to Doug an said."I wanna do something different""Ok" He said looking at her puzzled "Blue Roses" she said looking at him.Doug thought for a moment an shook his head, he wasn't really sure."That's ok i kinda want to this one on my own anyway" she saidDoug nodded an went over by Rosita an Meena.Ash loaded the song stepped up to the mic and sang "You said “come on, let's go down that yellow brick road” But that path was primrose and led back to black and white And now I know, since that day you chose to let me know My hearts been tangled with thorns that choke the light Oh, here I go, collecting roses to me from you Oh, here I go, a dozen red for every wound Oh, now I stop and smell the roses when they’re blueGonna find my way, break the lock on the emerald city gates It could be simple, but we’re only half-awake I feel the pain set in when I think of you and grip the stems I feel my head begin to spin, I'm not alrightOh, here I go, collecting roses to me from you Oh, here I go, a dozen red for every wound Oh, now I stop and smell the roses when they’re blue Let go of the stems, free to bloom again Let go of the stems, free to bloom againOh, here I go, collecting roses to me from you Oh, here I go, a dozen red for every wound Oh, now I stop and smell the roses when they’re blueLet go of the stems, free to bloom again Free to bloom again when they're blue"The crowed staired in shock when Ash with the high note. even Doug was amazed at beautiful she sounded. She wrapped up the song an the crowed cheered. The lynx walked over an handed Ash a 1 red an 1 blue rose an said" Bravo that was beautiful."The group spent the rest of the day playing some more music an relaxing on the grass. Rosita an Meena went to get lunch for everyone an when they came back both Doug an Ash were in their notebooks writing lyrics an notes.. They ate lunch an packed up Rosita had to get the kids today an Ash an Meena were gonna help her so as they were getting ready to leave Doug said bye to Rosita an Meena when Ash walked up an gave him a hug an said."see you tomorrow rockstar" an tapped him on the nose then got in the van.Doug waved bye as the drove off. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Rosita turned the corner to pick Ash up an saw her sitting on her front steps "oh no not again" She thoughtAsh saw her got up an headed to the van. She put her case in the back an before Rosita could say anything Ash climbed in an said." Good morning Rosita how are you?"Rosita staired at Ash shocked at her great mood."im great honey an you seem to be in a great mood today."Ash held up a spiral notebook an told Rosita she was up half the night just writing new songs. Hard ones, more melodic types like what she did in the park yesterday. She had her inspiration back an was loving it.The two were still talking up a storm when they stopped an picked up Meena. She climbed in an Ash said."Good morning Meena"Meena looked at Ash " Hi Ash, wow your in a great mood"Ash explained what was going on to her and the three talked music all the way in to town.It was incredibly busy in town this morning an the girls had to park in the municipal lot away from the theater. As they rounded the corner they saw Dougs Jeep an Johnny's truck parked almost in front of the theater."Wow i wonder how early they got here?" Rosita said.They walked in an saw Buster talking with Gunter .As they walked up Ash said."Good morning guys how are you today?"Gunter an Buster just stopped an staired at her."Ok why is everyone looking at me like that today? Ash said, hand on her hip an her attitude coming out.Buster laughed an told her. Sorry we are not used to you being so um..well.. social. Ash just staired at him an shrugged an then asked were Doug an Johnny were."They had me let them in a 6 this morning they want to be done by Friday so they are gonna be doing long days the rest of the week." He explained. Ash headed down to the last four rooms and found the pair. Johnny was stringing wires across the ceiling an Doug was hooking things up under the control board."Good morning boys" She said."Morning Ash" Johnny said from the ceiling.Doug went to stand up an again smacked his head into the control board."Owwww! dammit, not again" he said rubbing his head as he got up. He walked over still rubbing his head and grabbed one of the 2 extra large coffee cups he had sitting there. Finished one an started on the other."Morning Ash" he said.Ash looked at the coffee cups an asked."Both triple caffeine expresso shots?"He smiled an nodded taking another sip."Well someone is gonna running on high octane today" She laughed. "See you boys at lunch"An she headed back up the hall to her practice room.Lunch time was approaching an Doug was coming up the hallway an saw Ash in her practice room. He pushed the listen button an heard her sing."If I could find assurance To leave you behind I know my better half would fade And all my doubts Is a staircase for you Opened out of this base The first step is the one you believe in The second one might be profoundI'll follow you down to the eye of the storm Don't worry I'll keep you warm I'll follow you down While we are passing through space I don't care if we fall from grace I'll follow you downYou can have the money and the world The angels and the pearls Even trade my heart for color blueJust like the tower we never built And the shadow of all the guilt When the other hand was pointing at youYet the first step is the one you believe in The second one might be profoundI'll follow you down to the eye of the storm Don't worry I'll keep you warm I'll follow you down while we are passing through space I don't care if we fall from grace I'll follow you down to where forever lies Without a doubt I'm on your side There is no where else I'd rather be I'm not about to compromise Give you up to say goodbye I've got you through the deep I'll keep you close to meI'll follow you down to the eye of the storm Don't worry I'll keep you warm I'll follow you down While we are passing through space I don't care if we fall from grace I'll follow you If I could find assurance To leave you behind I know my better half would fade I'll follow you down"She looked up an saw Doug standing there. She smiled an motioned him in. He walked in as Ash was picking up for lunch."That was absolutely beautiful, you definitely have a wide range" He said."Thanks i wanna expand my songs to different melodies an tempos" she said.She picked up her notebook an told him she was was up late writing new songs. He smiled an told her that was awesome an so was he. They were talking music when Rosita popped in."Hey you two lunch at the cafe Busters treat" she said.They looked at each other an headed out with the others to the cafe. The rest of the week went by quickly. Johnny an Doug were putting in 16 hour days but by Friday morning they were done and all the rooms were ready. Buster looked at Doug Friday morning an asked "You ready to perform for everyone tonight?"Doug seemed a little shocked that he had to still do this after Buster had heard him sing an play already but agreed. Buster gave everyone the day off an said to be back tonight at 6 an bring there families. ___________________________________________ Doug looked out from the side of the stage an saw everyone was there. Meena an her family, Rosita an Norman an all their children, Gunter, Eddie, an Ash who was sitting next to Rosita in the front row. The lights went dark an a spotlight lit up Buster."Thank you all for coming tonight, Many of you know tonights performer he has been helping us out for quite some time now. Ladies an gentleman i give you Doug"An with that the lights went out. Doug stood in the darkness looking out. He gave a nod to Eddie on the board an put pic to string.As soon as the guitar screamed to life Rosita felt a tug on her shirt an felt someone climbing over her. It was Emma one if her daughters. She has an absolute love of rock an guitars an is a huge fan of Ash. Emna looked at Ash an she looked back they both smiled an looked at the stage.Doug went right into the song. The long guitar intro of ascending an descending scales.The spotlight hit him an he walked up to the mic an sang."She's got a smile it seems to me Reminds me of childhood memories Where everything Was as crazy as the bright blue sky Now and then when I see her face She takes me away to that special place And if I'd stare too long I'd probably break down and cry Oh, oh, oh Sweet child o' mine Oh, oh, oh, oh Sweet love of mine"As he was playing he walked down off the stage Eddie folliwing him him with the spotlight. He stopped in front of Ash flipped his head up. his glasses came up a caught a quill on his forehead he looked into Ash's eyes an sang, "She's got eyes of the bluest skies As if they thought of rain I hate to look into those eyes And see an ounce of pain"Emma was in her glory being that close to Dougs guitar an she was stairing at the design on it. Doug snapped his head again an the glasses came back down. He turned gave Emma a nod which made her squeal with excitement. Then he headed back in stage an sang, "Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place Where as a child I'd hide And pray for the thunder And the rain To quietly pass me by Oh, oh, oh Sweet child o' mine Oh, oh, oh, oh Sweet love of mine Oh, oh, oh, oh Sweet child o' mine Oh, oh, oh, oh Sweet love of mine Oh, oh, oh, oh Sweet child o' mine Oh, Sweet love of mine Where do we go? Where do we go now? Where do we go? Oh, oh Where do we go? Oh, Where do we go now? Where do we go? Oh, (sweet child) Where do we go now? Oh, Where do we go now? Oh, Where do we go? Oh, Where do we go now? Oh, Where do we go? Where do we go now? Where do we go? Oh, Where do we go now? No, no, no, no, no, no Sweet child, Sweet child of mine"The lights faded to dark an everyone applauded. Ash said to Rosita."Be right back, getting drink"an ran out to the vending machine.Buster was congratulating Doug an going on about his performance but he didn't really hear it. He was looking for Ash she was gone an he wasn't sure why. Buster finally left him alone an he sat down on the edge of the stage an was messing with his guitar when he felt a tug on his jacket.He looked down an it was Emma she looked at him an said."Mr. Doug can i ask you a question?"Sure sweetie what is it? he said"What's the picture?" she asked pounting at the guitar.Doug looked down an she was pointing at what looked like a bio hazard symbol but was made out of quills with two crossed quills below it. He sighed an said."That's what called a band logo"She looked at him confused. An he thought for a minute an said."It's like your toys or games they have a picture to tell you what they are.. this is like that for a music band. understand?She nodded an asked"whats the bands name?"it used to be "Quillzone" he said running his hand over the logo.""Cool name but you said used to.. why?" Emma asked.Doug thought for a few seconds put his guitar down an sat down on the floor with Emma an said."ok lets say you are playing a game that needs 5 people. if you lose all but 1 person you cant play anymore right?Emma shook her head no.Rosita had noticed this conversation going on an moved in closer to hear. She was amazed this rockstar dressed teenager just got down on floor level with her daughter to explain something to her in a way she would understand. She also noticed she wasn't the only one watching. Ash was back and listening in from a few rows back Doug looked at Emma and said,"thats what happened to the band one day only one person wanted to play anymore an the others left""Oh, that's sad" she said.He told her not to be sad he was sure they were all doing something fun now.She smiled an nodded then ran back to her family. Doug got up picked up his guitar an ran his hand across the body. Rosita saw a look of pain an devastation on his face an then noticed the sign on his guitar was also on his jacket an boots. "Oh my that was his band." She thought.Rosita walked up to Doug as he was putting away his guitar. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder.."Was that your band honey?" she askedShe felt him tense up an then relax an he just shook his head yes. "You want to talk about it? It may help."Doug sighed an looked at her. This was the first time she had seen his eyes. The eyes Ash can't stop talking about. They were beautiful but now they were filled with pain an hurt. An he said."Thanks Rosita but i can't right now.. maybe someday but not now" He pulled out a big sticker from his case an told her to give it to Emma. Rosita looked at it an saw it was a big band logo sticker. She looked at him an said"Thank you she is going to love it. An Doug you may not be ready to talk to me but someone else is gonna ask too."Doug followed her eyes an saw Ash walking up the stage.As Rosita passed Ash she gave her a "see if he will let you in look" Ash nodded and walked up to Doug."You ok rockstar?" she asked quietly. He shook his head an said," no not really"She walked around his case an faced him."You wanna talk to me about it?"He sighed an said,"Not tonight Ash i just can't tonight. Can we talk tomorrow?"He went to touch her hand an she backed away again. He looked at her an she said "I'm really sorry i guess we both need to talk tomorrow" An she put her hands on his."You going to be ok to get home?""I will just see if Buster will let me stay here tonight" he said.She wrote her number on a piece of paper."call me if you need anything ok"An she ran her finger across the quills on his head.As she was walking out with Rosita she looked back. He smiled a faint smile an said "Thank You" ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- They turned the corner to drop of Ash when Rosita saw the van parked up on the next block."Ummm Ash maybe you should stay with us tonight honey" Rosita said.Ash looked up the street an saw the van. A flash of anger ran through her eyes an her quills started to stiffen."Ash are you ok?" Emma who was sitting next to her asked.Ash realized she was in a van full of kids an took a few deep breaths an her quills relaxed."Yeah sounds like a good idea" sighed AshRosita got on her phone an called Johnny she told him what was going on an he said he would be there in 5 minutes.Norman got out of the van to walk Ash in. He pulled up his jacket as he got out revealing the 38 special he carries. He walked Ash to her door an waited there. Johnny turned the corner an saw the van. He parked opposite of Rosita's van an went over an talked to Rosita never taking his stare off the van. Within a few minutes Ash came out with a small bag an locked up. Johnny turned around and followed Norman an Rosita away eyeing Lance as they drove by. _________________________________________Rosita drove Ash down to the theater it was early so they stopped an got coffee along the way. Ash got out and grabbed her case."You coming in Rosita? i think i need to play a little" Ash said."Sure honey" She said as she got out of the van. Doug woke up to the sound of a guitar an was completely confused as to where he was. His mind cleared an he remembered he stayed at the theater last night. He walked out to the stage an saw Ash on stage an Rosita sitting in the front row. He walked over an sat by Rosita. Ash walked up to the mic an sang."One look and I saw what I wanted to see, you know that you Wrapped my heart around your finger so easily, yeah With your centerfold body going through the moves Why did I keep wasting the truth for you, tonightI won't be cryin', cryin', when I think about you, 'cause I opened my eyes And I won't be cryin', cryin', 'cause those days are gone, gone Someone twisted you, so you gave it to me, yeah you gave it to me good You're a nightmare everywhere, disguised as a dream Well I got lost, wandering through the darkness in your maze of lies Your trapdoor-way right into my insides, but tonight I won't be cryin', cryin', when I think about you, 'cause I opened my eyes And I won't be cryin', cryin' The tears are falling to the floor, but you won't catch me cryin' anymore"Doug looked at Rosita an asked."Lance again?Rosita nodded an saw Dougs quills stiffen then relax he shook his head an said."He better hope i never get ahold of him"Doug walked up on stage as Ash was putting away her guitar.She turned around an handed him a coffee an said "Morning rockstar you ready to go?"Doug nodded an took Ash's case in one hand an she put her hand in his. They said goodbye to Rosita an headed outside. Ash had never rode in a convertible before an never a Jeep with no doors either. Doug secured their cases in the back of the Jeep. He got in an saw Ash having a problem with the seatbelt. He reached over to help her an she shyed away again. She just looked at him."Sorry" She said."It's ok the buckle is touchy" he told her "Now just sit back and enjoy the sun on your face an the wind in your quills"Doug looked over at Ash as they were heading out of town an smiled. She was laid back in her seat sunglasses on just enjoying the sun an wind. Doug took his time heading out to the campground letting Ash enjoy the ride. She looked at him when he pulled into the campground an drove up to the lodge."You're living here?" she asked"Yeah it's cheap an I like the outdoors anyway" he told her.He grabbed his case an asked her if she wanted him to store her guitar till later. She nodded an he headed into the lodge.He was closing the door an walking back out when Mark asked."Hey you got a minute? i want to discuss an event I want to put on"Doug looked out at the Jeep an said."Not right now Mark. How about later?"Mark looked out an saw Ash sitting in the Jeep an smiled."Yeah man later is cool" He said Doug drove out to his site an Ash looked around. ."Well someone likes his privacy" she laughed "yeah you can really think out here" he said. Doug told her to make herself at home as he grabbed some clothes an headed off to the showers. "Make myself at home huh" Ash thought as she opened Dougs tent. "Well no wonder he doesn't mind living out here this thing is huge" Ash thought as she looked around. Three separate rooms one side was like a big closet an Ash couldn't help looking through his clothes. No surprise she thought tons if band t-shirts another pair of doc martin boots, converse high tops, black jeans, two pairs of leather pants. She felt herself blush at those."Ok enough of that" She said to herself an looked in the other side room. A big office tons of notebooks an diagrams an parts lists. She saw that almost every notebook had the Quillzone logo on it."All lyric books, wow all those songs" she said out loud.Ash picked up one an sat down on Dougs blanket an started reading. "Quill to the heart" The lyrics sucked Ash in an she never noticed Doug coming back. Doug hurried back not wanting to keep Ash waiting. He got back to camp an smiled. Ash was sitting on his blanket completely engrossed in one of his lyric books. She looked up an put the book away. "Oh sorry i didn't hear you come back" she said."No worries so what do you think?" He asked nodding toward the notebook.Ash couldn't believe he was asking her opinion on his work. She stood up an said." I only got through the first song but it totaly sucked me in"Doug picked up the notebook an handed it to her."Tell me what you think of the rest. Ash was in shock. "Really," she asked looking at the notebook in her hands."If you want to" He told herThey got back in the Jeep an Ash told him about 20 miles north of the campground take the dirt road on the right. Then she laid back in the seat again an relaxed.Doug found the dirt road an turned. The steady hum of the tires on asphalt was now replaced by the crackle of dirt an stone. About 5 miles up the road dead ended into a small parking lot. They got out an Ash yelled."Hey rockstar this way!"An headed up a small trail. After about a mile hike the trees opened an there was a huge opening an a large flat rock. Ash climbed up on the rock an went to the top.Doug followed her an when he got to the top Ash said "look" an pointed behind him.Doug turned around an was in awe. You could see for forever up here. The fields the lake an even the whole town. He sat down next to Ash an said"Wow it's beautiful up here"Yeah it's a great place to just come up to an think." she said an turned to him.Doug looked at her took a deep breath an said." It all started when i was born. My father abandoned my mother an me. An after i turned 10 I was pretty much living on my own, my mother could have cared less about me so i moved in with a friend. I picked up the guitar there an found out i was a natural at it. By the time i was 14 my friends an I formed a band. Quillzone was born. We started playing local venues an were an immediate hit an over the next 2 years the venues got bigger an bigger. We put out an album an it did great in our region but nowhere else really, but hell I was 16 playing for crowds of several thousand people."Ash could hear he was fighting back tears. "Doug you don't have to continue if you don't want to" she said putting a hand on his shoulder.He took a couple of deep breaths, took off his glasses an wiped his eyes, he shook his head and continued."Then one day i was working on some new songs an the guys showed up. They said sorry but they were done. They didn't want this life anymore and walked out leaving me with everything. I had to cancel shows argue with angry promoters an record label. I was 17. I gave up playing, writing, singing an just went to work at the music shop. After a few months the owner an my best friend Joey told me about the competition here an I didn't do anything really. Finally he convinced me to come here the competition was over but he said the music scene had to be better here. So here I am."Ash couldn't believe what she was hearing. The pain the abandonment everything he had to contend with. It was devastating. He reached for her hand an she shyed back again."Dammit Ash come on!" she said to herself.She looked at him an reached out an took his hands. Now she took the deep breath an said."Ok my turn. My family is very, very well off an well that social status and rock music doesn t mix well. I had constant fights with my father ever since i started playing. It all came to a head one night when i was 16. We got into a huge fight and he hit me hard enough to knock me against the wall. That was it I was done i packed a suitcase grabbed my guitar and went to walk out. My mother stopped me at the door. I just looked at her the side of my face swelling. She handed me an envelope an said it was from my father an to never come back. I looked at it was a check for 10 thousand dollars. Well if that's all your daughter is worth to you than fine i told them. I moved in with a friend till the check cleared. I found the apartment an at first the owner didn't want to rent it to me but i paid a year up front so he agreed. Then i met Lance he was looking for a bandmate he was a couple years older but we hit it off good at first. He moved in an we started playing gigs."Doug could see the tears forming but also heard the anger in her voice now. Before he could say anything she continued."That's when it started he would always say to not step on his vocals, that I was nothing but backup quality only 2nd rate. We tried out together for the competition but Buster only wanted me. We argued about it but he came on board because the prize money would get us a studio to make his music. Well i came home early one day an caught him with another girl in my apartment. I was done an threw him out."Ash was sobbing more now she wiped her eyes an said." I went on picked up the pieces with the help of my theater group friends. An yeah my song was an really still is a huge hit an all that is great but, but, It doesn't stop the pain, the truth that there was no love there, the pain of coming home to a now empty apartnent. It doesn't help"Ash was now fully crying an Doug went to hold her. She tensed up an he went to let go an she cried."No please don't let go!"Doug pulled her close an she cried into his shoulder. Slowly her crying turned to sobs an she looked at him her beautiful blue eyes all red an she said."can you do one thing for me?"He looked at her an said."Anything""Please be patient with me, my defenses are coming down but it will take some time."Doug looked into her eyes an said"Take all the time you need. i will be right here when you are ready. i am not going anywhere"Ash gave him a smile an put her arms around him. Doug hugged her back. Her head against his shoulder her heard her say."Hold me an never let go"He pulled her tight to him an said"i will" ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The sun was starting to set lighting up the sky with reds, purples, yellows. Ash was sitting there still holding onto Doug when she said. "It sure is beautiful up here."Doug looked out over the fields and watched the sunset start to fade over the lake. "It sure is" he said. He noticed Ash shake slightly and pull herself closer to him. "It's starting to get cold" he thought. "You want to head back down? "He asked her. She looked up at him an nodded yes.Doug got up then took her hand an helped her up. Hand in hand they walked back down the trail to the Jeep. About halfway down Doug sighed an said" Ok i hate to bring him up but what's with Lance anyway I thought he was dating what's her name... ummm Becky right?"Ash said " Yeah he is dating her. has been for awhile now, but Becky is in good with her parents still so every few weeks she goes to visit. Now Lance doesn t go instead he waits till she is gone then starts texting, calling an showing up knocking nonstop. Ugh i have made it crystal clear that i want nothing to do with him at all anymore.. He is such a slimeball."Ash leaned her head on Dougs shoulder an he put his arm around her an they continued down to the Jeep in silence.It was dark when they got there and Ash was starting to shiver more. Doug took his jacket out of the back of the jeep an put it over Ash's shoulders. "Thank you" she said as she slipped it on and zipped it up. Doug turned up the heat in the jeep full blast with no top an doors on it will be a cold ride down he thought.About halfway back to the campground Doug looked over an smiled. Ash was laid back in her seat lost in the stars overhead. " You wanna grab a bite to eat?" Doug asked. "The cafe at the lodge will be open an they have some good food."Ash looked over and nodded then went back to stairing at the stars. When they got to the lodge they walked in an grabbed a table off to the side. The waitress came over took there drink order an gave them menu's.Ash was looking over the menu when Mark came over. "Can i join you two for a minute?" he asked.Doug nodded an introduced Ash to him. "So,Mark said, you got a few minutes to discuss this gig i am thinking of putting on?" Doug saw that got Ash's attention as she had put down her menu and was starting at them both. " Yeah, Doug replied let us order our food then we can talk ok." Mark nodded an called a waitress over. They placed there order and Doug looked at Mark an said. "Ok what do you have in mind?" Mark went on to tell them how he wanted to do a classic rock show at the campground to try an bring in more busniess for the sumner. He explained not only did he have the lodge stage but an open air amphitheater that hasn't been used in years.Doug was listening intently to everything Mark said an when he was finished Doug asked. "Ok so what do you need from me?" Mark said "Well i hear you are exceptional with audio an video setups." Doug just nodded. So i want you to bring my campground into the modern era. Mark laughed an pointed at his equipment.At this time there food had arrived an Mark said. "I'll let you two eat we can talk more in a bit." With that Mark went back behind the bar an started watching tv. Ash looked at Doug an could see he was figuring things out already. He was looking at the lighting and the speakers as he was eating. When they had both finished he looked at her an said. "Do you wanna help me with this?" . Ash just staired at him. really he wants me to help him. She broke into a smile and said," You bet" They walked over to where the main controls were and she heard Doug groan as he took out a little notebook an started jotting down notes. Ash turned on various switches an other controls as Doug went over Marks entire lodge system. When they were done he waved Mark back over and asked him. "Ok is this a one time deal or something you are going to want to continue." Mark said he would like to do it more often. "Ok, Doug replied, You are going to need to replace all the control boards, wires, actuators for the lights. your speakers and lights look good so no cost there. In here probably 3 to 5 thousand Doug said. i have a friend in the business so i can probably get some good deals.I can't tell you about the amphitheater till tomorrow in the daylight but I can work up some ideas for in here tonight." Mark nodded an asked."How much do you want to do all this for me?"Doug thought for a few minutes then looked at Ash an smiled."I'll do it for nothing." Doug said. Both Ash's an Mark's jaws dropped but before either could say anything Doug said." Under one condition." "Ok what? Mark asked. Ash was looking at him with this puzzled look trying to figure out what he was thinking. Doug said."You do your classic rock thing from 6 to 8 after that i want a 2 hour show of my own to put on."Ash was now just stairing wide eyed at him. Did he really just ask for a 2 hour concert set? Mark got up scratched his head an though about it. Then he said, "A two hour classic rock set followed by a two hour hard/ thrash rock set." Doug nodded." I think this will work out good for both of us." He said an with that Doug stood up and they shook on it Ash couldn't believe what just happened. Doug went from working on some equipment to putting on a concert in a matter of minutes. Ash was lost in thoughts of this when she heard Doug. "Hello Ash are you there?" "Oh what? Yeah sorry" she replied. Doug laughed an said it's ok. You ready to head home? She nodded as she put his jacket back on they headed out to the jeep. When they got back to town Doug got out an walked Ash to her door. "Do you want to come up an help me again tomorrow?" he asked. Ash looked at him an said, "I'd love to." With that Doug held out his arms an let Ash fall into them. .They held each other for what felt like forever, but Doug could still feel her shiver even with her wearing his jacket. "It's cold out here", he said "Get in there where its warm." She nodded an went to take off his jacket. He stopped her an said you hold on to it. She looked at him an smiled an said,"ok" She was just about to close the door when she heard his voice yell out, "Hey Ash!" She saw him running back over an he said "You almost forgot this", An he handed her the notebook from the tent. With that Ash broke into a smile and hugged him again.They pulled apart staired into each others eyes and finally said goodnight. ______________________________________________ Ash woke up to knocking at her front door. She rubbed her eyes yawned and looked at the clock. "Ugh its 9:15 in the morning she thought." Doug said 11 so it shouldn't be him. Looking around she realized she had fallen asleep reading Dougs lyric book an curled up with his jacket. She laid her head back down on the jacket just getting lost in his scent not wanting to get up but the knocking persisted. " Ok ok" Ash thought, as she tossed the jacket over her nightshirt an headed downstairs. As she got to the living room she could hear Rosita's voice, Ash are you awake? Hello? "Yeah i am up now sorry Rosita." Ash said as she was walking to the door.She opened it an there was Rosita and Meena an then it hit her, she was suppised to go shopping with the two of them today. She let them in and said sorry she forgot to text them last night that she wouldn't be able to make it today.Rosita was just stairing at her with this smirk on her face. "What?" Ash said looking at Rosita. "Nice jacket," She said with even a bigger smirk an Ash noticed even Meena was giving her the same smirk."Ok Ok" she said, "Yes this is Dougs jacket an yeah he asked me to help him with some things today." Rosita smiled an said, "Honey that's fine the stores will be there next time right Meena." Meena nodded an said, "Don't worry about us Ash you go have a good time." With that Ash hugged them both an said, "Thank you. an if you want to stay for a few I'll put the coffee on while i get ready. Doug won't be here till 11." They agreed and sat down in the living room while Ash went an got ready.About a half hour later Rosita heard Ash "You guys want some coffee its ready." They walked into the kitchen and stopped dead. Here was an Ash they hadn't seen before. Dark purple Doc Martin boots, black jeans, some punk band t shirt dark purple leather vest. "An she was wearing make up too." Rosita thought. She did her nails and eyeshadow in a dark purple too and just some lip gloss. "Well well well," Rosita said, "Seems someone is bringing out a new look in our Ash." Meena just squealed an said ,"Ash you look amazing." Ash blushed a little at the compliments. its been a very long time for her to get dressed up even a little, but it felt good she thought.They were sitting around drinking coffee when they heard Dougs jeep pull up. Ash grabbed her guitar case as they were walking out.Doug pulled up out front just as Rosita an Meena were coming out. "Hi Meena hi Rosita' Doug said as he came up the walk. They both said, hi an Doug asked Rosita if Emma liked her sticker. "Oh my yes"Rosita said, "She is still looking for the perfect place for it." Doug smiled an nodded. An then Rosita moved over an he saw Ash. She was absolutely gorgeous he was at a complete loss for words. He regained his composure an walked up to her. She put her case down an gave him a big hug. "You look amazing" he said as he picked up her case an held out his hand. She blushed took his hand said goodbye to the others and they headed for the jeep. He secured her case in the back helped her with that damn buckle again an they were off. Ash asked, "Have you been by the waterfront yet?" He shook his head no an she said, "Ok lets cruise through there on the way out of town."They drove through town down by the lake. As they turned the corner the new casino an cafe towered in front of them. Suddenly Doug pulled over to the curb. Ash looked at him. "What's up?" She askedDoug pointed to the casino's huge digital sign. "Grand opening celabration. Auditions being held for our outdoor cafe stage sign up inside."He looked at her an said " You should do it"Ash thought for a second an nodded. Doug pulled into the parking lot an they walked inside. Ash signed up for auditions. They were a week from today. She needed 4 rock songs, 2 covers 2 orginial. With paperwork in hand they headed back out to the Jeep.They were getting ready to pull out when Doug heard Ash groan."What's the matter? he askedAsh motioned up the street an Doug saw a group walking. It was Lance an he guessed Becky an a few of their friends. Doug got an evil grin an Ash looked at him confused. He said "Lets have some fun "He told her the plan an she loved it. He got out a Quillzone cd picked a track. "Death to the haters" As it started Ash looked at him. "Damn you really do rage this song is intense"Doug just smiled an pulled out of the lot heading towards the group.Becky got back in late the night before so Lance an them decided to come to the waterfront today an check out this new casino that was opening. About a block from the casino Lance stopped. Someone was playing some really hardcore music. The weasel that was with them said."Dude isn't that Death to the haters by Quillzone?"Lance listened an nodded. Then he saw the bright green Jeep coming toward them. He raised his glasses an saw the driver was the same guy from the cafe the other day an Ash was with him again. As they drove by Lance couldn't believe how great Ash looked he never remembered her looking like that for him. She lifted her glasses give him a look what you lost out on look then turned back an ignored them. Lance's jaw dropped even more when he saw the custom Midwest license plate "QUILL ZNE."Doug an ash laughed hysterically at the look of shock on their faces.He switched out to a lighter set of songs an they were off to Marks. They got out of the jeep still laughing about what they just did. Mark came outside an said. "Well you two seem to be in a good mood today." They both just nodded an laughed a little more.Mark took them down to the amphitheater an after a thorough inspection Doug was suprised it was'nt too bad.Back inside Doug gave Mark his recommendations on equipment. Mark was concerned about the cost but Doug said that these boards were easy to move around so the same ones could be used inside an out so only one set is needed. With that Mark was on board so Doug said, Let me call Joey. He dialed a number put it on speaker an a person answered an Doug said, "Hey Joey whats up? its Doug." Joey replied "Doug who?"Doug got a scowl on his face an said, "Really im gone a couple of months and I'm forgotten." Joey laughed, "I'm messing with ya bud.. how ya been?" "Doing better" Doug said as he looked over at Ash. " I need some serious hardware buddy." "What are you doin?" Joey asked. "Redoing an entire lodge Soundstage and amphitheater." said Doug. "Ok damn, guess the music scene is definitely better there huh" "Everything is better here " Doug said. Ash listened as Doug rattled model numbers and amounts of things for what seemed like forever. Joey was running numbers an asked Doug if he was playing again yet?Just starting too an i am gonna be doing a 2 hour set once this job is complete. "Awesome so you found your passion again" Joey said. Doug looked at Ash an said "Yeah you could say that." Ash laughed and Joey said.. "Ahhhhh now i see.. Who is the lady Doug?" Doug looked at Ash an she nodded. Joey meet Ash.. Ash meet Joey. Ash said "hi"an Joey said "Hi Ash... Ash...wait as in Ash from the competition?" "Yep" Ash said. That is awesome replied joey. He needs a Rocker girlfriend to keep him in line and with that he busted out laughing. "Ha ha, you got jokes i see.. so mr joke man got me a total yet?" Doug asked. Joey calmed down an said seriously man i am happy for you. i can do everything at 2 percent over cost an free shipping. looking at 4800.00 Doug looked at Mark he nodded and after Mark took care of payment they discussed the gig. Joey wanted to put up ads there. even though it is almost 1000 miles away he said people will travel Doug said fine but it had to have Marks set on there an for His set he wanted it billed as Ash an Doug ( formally from Quillzone).Joey agreed they set a date 3 months out and that was it .Ash was just stairing at Doug as he hung up the phone. 'Your cool with playing right Ash?" Asked Doug looked over at her an smirked. Ash got up walked over to her case grabbed her guitar an headed for the lodges stage. "I'm completely cool with it"Ash said staring at Doug with a flirty smile, "Now let's see what you got." "You're on"" Doug said as he walked over and opened his case. "Let's rock!!!!" ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- As Ash was heading for the stage Mark got up flipped the switches to power up the stage and all the equipment. Doug opened his case then went back to his storage room pulled out a laptop an a flash drive. Ash was tuning in Doug hooked his laptop into Marks board and brought up his editing program. He plugged in the flash drive and told Mark there is over 2 terabites of music on here all set up for track removal through the program. To find a song on the drive just search it. Mark nodded an said he was set.Doug went down to grab his guitar but before he could turn around he heard Ash sing " I went to a party last Saturday night, i didn't get laid i got in a fight. uh huh it ain't no big thing" Doug just smiled an sat down in front of the stage an listened to Ash belt out "kiss me deadly", but near the end something didn't sound right an he could tell Ash knew it too. She finished the song then came came off stage an put her guitar on the table an just staired at it. Doug walked over an asked " Ash what's the matter?" She shook her head, i dont know it won't stay in tune. I swear he cursed it when i threw his ass out. "Lance?" Doug asked Yeah Ash replied. She told Doug that Lance bought her that guitar a few weeks after being together because hers at the time was beyond repair. She never looked up from her guitar an said this is why i haven't been playing much an just shook her head. Doug said, "Hold on a second" As he went back to his closet an came back with a case that looked like a big briefcase. He opened it an there was almost enough parts in there to build a guitar. He looked at Ash an said, "You really want to play?" Ash looked at him an said. "Very much" "Ok" Doug said as he led her back on stage. He pulled out a bandanna an looked at Ash. "Trust me?" He asked She nodded looking a little confused.He put the bandanna over her eyes an then grabbed his guitar and put it over her shoulders.Ash wasn't sure what was going, then she felt a guitar strap come over her head an the neck come to rest in. her one hand. She felt Doug take her other hand an put a pick in it. Then he leaned in close and told her let the guitar talk to you an go from there Im gonna go work on yours." Ash nodded an Doug went back to the table and started working. He was also watching as Ash stood there holding the guitar close. Smiled an nodded to Mark. He went over and she told him the song. He nodded an went back to the boards.Doug had her guitar almost all torn down as Ash sang."Oh, what a cold, dark world it is to walk throughAlone with a fear-filled headThinking of losing you is a haunted songAnd a dread much worse than the fear of deathNow I feel the fear rising upClimbing up, taking over my bodyAnd I feel my pulse starting upWaking me againOpen my eyes, I'm reaching for youSet me on fire, set me on fireI'm burning inside, I'm waiting for youSet me on fire, set me on fireYour hand in mine, oh, I feel the fireTwo hearts that beat, oh, to feed the fireYou are a spark that shines a lightWhere we could belong together, factionlessLet's keep it burning bright 'til we're floating away,'til we're ashes dancing inside the flamesNow I feel the fear rising upClimbing up, taking over my bodyAnd I feel my pulse starting upWaking me againOpen my eyes, I'm reaching for youSet me on fire, set me on fireI'm burning inside, I'm waiting for youSet me on fire, set me on fireOh, oh, oh, ohOh, oh, ohOh, oh, ohYour hand in mine, oh, I feel the fireTwo hearts that beat, oh, to feed the fireOpen my eyes, I'm reaching for youSet me on fire, set me on fireI'm burning inside, I'm waiting for youSet me on fire, set me on fireOh, oh, ohSet me on fire, set me on fireOh, oh, ohSet me on fire, set me on fireOh, oh, ohDoug looked up an smiled. "she covered that beautifully" he thought. He went back on stage an asked her." So how did that feel?""Absolutely amazing, it was like the guitar was part of me" she replied. With that Doug removed the bandanna she looked down an saw that the guitar she was playing was Dougs original, his black one with the logo on it. She was shocked, she didn't think anyone but him played this. As if he was reading her mind he said, "Your the only other person to ever play that guitar." She looked down at it an ran her hand across its body an looked back up at him.. "Thank you" she said. "No thank you" Doug said. "You sounded awesome." Now lets see if i got yours fixed as he picked it up an plugged in. He started to tune an everything was going great but then the same thing happened again. Ugh!!Doug said. an Ash just shook her head. "Ok phone call time" Doug said as he pulled out his phone. "Hey Doug what's up?" Joey said as he answered the phone. Doug explained what was going on an what he had done an Joey said it sounds like something in the body. try to compensate by either over or under tuning an he will check it out when he gets there. Doug looked a little surprised. "Your coming down?" he asked "Hell yeah!"Joey replied "I am not gonna miss seeing you on stage again." "Awesome" Doug said. "Also bring your Bass we will jam while your here." "Ok cool" Joey said an hung up For the hour or so Ash an Doug tried an tried to get her guitar close to perfect with no luck. Finally Ash threw her hands up in frustration an said. "That's it i give up!"an she just went an sat down with her head in her hands. Doug put her guitar on the table an went over to her. "Hey we will fix it" Doug said putting a hand gently on Ash's shoulder. Joey is a god when it comes to repairs he will fix it. Ash looked at him an said " But what do i do till then? I don't have anything else." He could see the tears of frustration welling up in her eyes. He took his bandanna an wiped her eyes an said, "Yes you do." With that he got up walked over put his black guitar in his case closed it an walked back over to Ash.She looked at him in shock. "No... Doug.. i can't.. that's your.." an that was all she could say as Doug looked at her an said. "Please accept it, you sounded absolutely amazing on this an i want everyone to hear it" She looked at Doug and those beautiful eyes of his were begging her to accept.She knew she couldn't refuse an she threw her arms around him almost knocking them both over. Hugged him tight an said thank you. As they were cleaning up bith there phones started beeping a reminder. Meeting at the theater 8 am tomarrow. Doug looked at the clock an groaned it was midnight already. Mark walked over an said " I'll finish up here you get her home an get some sleep""Thanks" Doug said as he grabbed Ash's new guitar case an they headed for the door.He dropped Ash off at home an walked her to the door. They hugged again for what seemed like forever but as Doug went to let go Ash held him close. She looked up into his eyes an said thank you. an with that she leaned in a gave him a short soft kiss. Doug stood there in a kind of shock.. did that just really happen he thought. He was playing it over again in his mind when her heard Ash say. "Hey rockstar 7am right" "Huh what? oh yeah 7 am" Doug stuttered. Ash just laughed an said goodnight Doug an closed the door.Doug was up most of the night unable to sleep the thoughts of that kiss, what did it mean? He didn't know an really didn't care she was happy an that's what mattered. He tuned his other guitar a deep blue one with airbrushed storm clouds an lighting strikes on it. Before he knew it it was time to go get Ash an head to the theater. ____________________________________________ Ash was also awake most of the night. Trying to figure out that kiss herself. She didn't know, it just felt right an it felt so good at the time. Her mind was still yelling to be cautious but that yelling was getting quieter by the day She didn't understand it but she felt safe an complete around him. She never felt this way before about anyone. She looked at the clock 6:30. "Well so much for sleep" She thought as she rubbed her eyes put coffee on an jumped in the shower.Doug showed up at 7 am an she let him in an gave him a travel mug full of hot coffee. Doug took a big sip and just savored the taste. Ash chuckled as she watched him savoring his cup of coffee. an said "you ready to go?" "Yeah" Doug replied as he handed Ash his cup for a refill an grabbed her case to put it in the jeep.They were early it was only 7:30 when they got there an Buster wasn't even there yet.Buster showed up about 10 minutes later an they got out of the jeep grabbed their cases an walked to the door. "Good morning" Buster said, " How are my 2 rock stars this morning?" Ash an Doug looked at each other an said "tired" at the same time. Buster just laughed.. "ahhh the wild life of teenagers" he thought. Ash an Doug put their cases on the stage an sat down in the front row. It was still early an the rest of the group wasn't there yet.Ash laid her head on Dougs shoulder an he put his arm around her. Buster was off stage an saw this an thought."it's good to see her opening up to someone" Rosita, Johnny, and Meena all showed up about the same time an Gunter was shortly behind them. Mike was off overseas doing something but nobody really missed his nasty attitude anyway. As the group was walking in Johnny saw Ash an Doug in the front row and pointed them out to Rosita. Rosita an Meena were happy at what they saw there. Ash looked like she was asleep on Dougs shoulder an as they all got close they relized they were both asleep in the front row. The rest of the group sat back a few rows an waited for Buster. When Buster walked on stage he noticed that Ash an Doug were now asleep. So he picked up a mic an Eddie turned up the volume to the speakers. "Good morning everyone!!!" blasted through the theater. Ash an Doug snapped awake in the front row to the laughter of everyone. " Well it's nice to see our lovebirds are now awake" Buster said with a smirk. Rosita was happy to see that niether of them objected to Busters comnent. "That's a good sign" she thought." Buster went on to explain that the theater has been contracted to an 80's extravaganza. music, food, dress all from that decade. Doug was excited about this. He was still a few weeks from being 18, but the 80's were one of his favorite eras of music. Buster said ok who has some ideas for their songs you are all gonna need 3 oh an my rockstars here ballads only i need to keep the theater in one piece, he laughed. Gunter was the first to speak up. " Ya anything to dance to vill work for me" Meena came out an said " True colors" Everyone agreed a good choice. Rosita thought for a minute " vogue" very nice choice.. Buster said Johnny said "Right here waiting" Doug looked back an said " excellent choice the piano is beautiful in that song" Johnny just smiled an nodded.Ok so now its down to our 2 rockstars here so any ideas. Doug looked at Buster, "So only ballads from us huh?" Buster nodded. Doug wispered something to Ash she giggled an nodded. Ash an Doug both got up an got their cases. "May we?" Doug asked Buster looked out to the group an they all looked eager an excited so he shrugged an said go for it. They set their cases at the back of the stage and Doug went over to Eddie to set everything up. then they both grabbed there guitars facing away from the stage they started to play. Buster,Rosita, an Gunter having grown up in that ear new the song an couldn't wait for the performance. As they turned an walked to the front of the stage they were in a stunned awe. There was Ash playing Dougs prized guitar and playing full lead too as,Doug came up.to the mic an sang."We live like strangers playing for timeBoth of us reaching out for somethingHiding our feelings afraid what we'll findSomeday I know we'll find the answer If it takes a little time, it doesn't really matterDon't throw it all away 'cause we're(Doug an Ash)One Step From ParadiseSo close and still so far awayOne Step From ParadiseTogether we'll find Paradise someday(Doug)Lost in the shadows, we search for a lightHoping the candle burns foreverIf it takes a little time, it doesn't really matterDon't throw it all away 'cause we're(Doug an Ash)One Step From ParadiseSo close and still so far awayOne Step From ParadiseTogether we'll find Paradise someday(Doug)If it takes a little time, it doesn't really matterDon't throw it all away 'cause we're(Doug an Ash)One Step From ParadiseSo close and still so far awayOne Step From ParadiseTogether we'll find Paradise someday"Ash was absolutely amazing on the several guitar solos in the song an Rosita could see why Doug had handed her that guitar. It was like it was made for her.Buster thought the performance was breathtaking the way they decided against headset mics an shared the same mic during the chorus really brought out the passion in the song. They finished to a standing ovation from everyone. "So you mean something like that" Doug said. "Exactly like that" Buster replied. Ok everyone take 5 an then get to work an yes you can collaborate with each other but you need to still do your 3. Buster instructed. Ash an Doug were discussing something when they called Buster over." Yes?"Buster asked "We would like to do our 3 rd song as a duet."Ash said. "Hmmmmm really" Buster said with his interst peaked, "An what song would that be?" Ash an Doug looked at each other an Doug said "If i close my eyes forever" both of us playing twin neck guitars also.. They thought Buster was explode into confetti he was so excited. "Yes yes yes do it" he shouted as he headed upstairs. The rest of the week pretty much was normal everyone was working on picking other songs and practicing. Doug had his other picked that day. "when i look into your eyes" and "i live my life for you" are his other 2 an Ash was still thinking an playing everything she thought of as well as getting ready for Sunday. Doug didn't mind he was happy to see her playing again an loving it. He looked over at the next practice booth an saw Johnny having some problems. He told Ash he was goung to see if Johnny needed any help. She just nodded an went right back to playing. Doug knocked on Johnny's door"Everything ok?" hee asked. Johnny just looked frustrated. " i cant seem to come up with more songs" he said. "You want to stay around the piano?" Doug asked Johnny nodded. "?Ok what about a keyboard basically an electric piano. Here Doug said,as he pulled up a song on his phone hooked into the booth and played "Carrie" Johnny sat back and got lost in the song. When it was over he nodded an said,"Thanks Doug" "No problem" Doug said, And if you're interested i could use some help at the amphitheater over the next few weeks getting it ready. I can't offer alot but i can figure out something. "I'd be glad to help" Johnny said "An you don't need to pay me ill help you that's what friends do." Doug looked at Johnny as he was walking out smiled an said thanks Ash wanted to come up to the lodge with Doug after practice that friday. As,they were pulling into the lot a large delivery truck was parked by the doors. "Ahhhh good all the stuff is here finally" Doug said as they walked into the lodge. Mark was just standing there looking at all the boxes an said to Doug. "You can have all this done on top of your theater work?" Doug nodded an said, "No problem" Doug texted Johnny You going to be able to start tomorrow? stuff is here. Johnny sent back. Yeah what time? An do you want me to pick up Ash? Doug showed Ash an she nodded Be here around 8 an yeah pick up Ash please Ok will do see you tomorrow was Johnny's reply. Doug an Ash spent most of the night separating the equipment for the amphitheater and the lodge. It was getting close to 11 pm an Doug said we got a busy day tomorrow lets get you home.Ash looked at all the stuff an nodded. When they got to her house and he gave her their goodnight hug she again didnt let go he looked down into her eyes an she said " I'm really falling for you Doug" As she held him even tighter her heard her say just just" promise to catch me ok" He pulled her back to look at her an said "i promise, i will catch you" An with that they kissed again. ______________________________________________Doug was up early the next morning drinking coffee and shuttling stuff down to the amphitheater with the help of Marks 2 younger boys. They pretty much had it all moved when Doug saw Johnny's truck pull into the lot. He walked over opened the door for Ash an took her hand as she got out. She then gave him a big hug an a kiss on the nose an said " morning rockstar" Johnny an both of Marks boys were just standing there smirking an Doug held up his finger like don't even start. An with that the other 3 busted out laughing and walked away.Doug walked back in where Ash was looking at the piles of stuff. "All the amphitheater stuff is already down there now its just putting it all together" Doug said.They worked through the day an got alot done. It was getting late an Ash had her audition tomarrow. She looked at Doug an said. " Why don't you grab your stuff an stay at my place tonight."He looked at her. " Really? You sure?" he asked.She nodded an they stopped by his campsite an he grabbed a change of clothes. When they got to Ash's Doug kicked off his boots and sat in the corner of the couch an he fell asleep. Ash came out of the kitchen an saw Doug asleep on the couch she tired to wake him up but he was out. She put a pillow under his head an covered him with a blanket. She kissed him gently an wispered night sweetie, an she went off to bed herself. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Doug woke up to the smell of coffee an the sound of rock music. He looked around yawned an rubbed his eyes, as he became more focused he remembered he stayed the night at Ash's an must have fell asleep on the couch.Ash came from the kitchen with a cup of coffee an put it under his nose. "Good morning sleepy." she giggled, "you passed out cold when we got here last night" "Sorry, I guess i didn't realize how tired i was" he said sipping his coffee."No worries we were both exhausted an today is a big day. Come in the kitchen breakfast is almost ready." Doug followed Ash into the kitchen. He came up to her as she was cooking put a hand on her shoulder an said " this is a big day for you, I'll finish here you go an relax"Ash just looked at him, back when she was with Lance he never even offered to help clean up much less cook so this caught her off guard."Ummm yeah.. well.. ok sure" she said as she handed him the cooking utensils grabbed her coffee an headed for the living room. Doug finished cooking an gave Ash her plate an refilled her coffee then he made his cleaned up the mess an joined Ash in the living room. She was finishing up her plate when she just looked at him an said, "an you can cook too" Doug laughed an said, "I've been on my own for 4 years now.. you pick up alot" She just nodded got up tickled the quills on the top of his head an said "I'm gonna grab a shower an get ready." He nodded told her to leave the plate he would get it. An Ash headed back to the bathroom. About 45 min later he heard Ash yell " Hey rockstar shower is free if you want to get ready" Doug got up did Ash's an his dishes then went an jumped in the shower. The hot water felt good on his quills an it was nice to use something other than the campground showers." Yes they worked fine but after a few months you miss real plumbing " he thought as the water flowed over his head. He enjoyed it for a few more moments then got out an dried himself off. He slipped on a pair of jet black jeans a dark blue t-shirt an black leather vest. He looked at himself in the mirrior. "eh not to bad i guess" he thought as he headed back out towards the living room.He was sitting on the couch polishing his Doc Martins when Ash came out an said "Hey rockstar"Doug looked up an was just blown away. Ash was standing there in black boots that must have had at least a 6 inch heel skin tight black leather pants a loose fitting black shirt that came down just below her waist. Her red leather jacket was replaced by a black one. She had on dark eyeshadow an blood red lipstick her nails also done in the same blood red. "Wow! You look absolutely amazing" Doug said as he stood up an gave her a hug. She blushed an said " thank you" She went an got her guitar case an brought it to the table, the both went over the guitar an made sure it was perfect. Doug cleaned it up to the point it looked brand new.Before they knew it the clock read 11am, her audition was in an hour. 'You ready?"Doug said as he got up an secured an picked up her case. Ash just took a deep breath an nodded. __________________________________________________They pulled into the casino an followed the signs to the proper parking area. Doug carried Ash's case as they went in. Security stopped them an said only performers past this point. He gave Ash her case an a hug an kiss. "Good luck" he said as security directed him where to go an watch. He found a table where he could see the stage an the judges an sat down. The waitress came over an asked if he wanted a drink. He ordered a longneck an to his shock they didn't ID him. he was only a few weeks from being legal but still. ____________________________________________________Ash was waiting her turn with the rest of the hopefuls, she knew a few of them an was relieved to not see Lance or Becky anywhere. There was small talk going on but mostly everyone went quiet to watch each audition. Ash was near the end of the list but finally they called her up. The judges said "4 songs 2 covers 2 original one hard one not so much in that order"Ash handed her flash drive to the board operator an went back to center stage. The stage went dark an a lone spotlight lit up Ash. She dropped her sunglasses over her eyes walked up to the microphone an sang."In the daylight, I’m your sweetheart, Your goody-two-shoes prude is a work of art. But you don’t know me, And soon you won’t forget, Bad as can be, yeah you know I’m not so innocentBetter beware I go bump in the night, Devil-may-care with a lust for life, And I know you, Can’t resist this You know you Are so addicted. Boy you better run for your life!Welcome to the nightmare in my head, (Oh god!) Say hello to something scary, The monster in your bed, (Oh god!) Just give in and you won’t be sorry, Welcome to my other side, Hello it’s Mz. Hyde!I can be the bitch, I can play the whore, Or your fairytale princess who could ask for more. A touch of wicked, A pinch of risqué, Good girl gone bad, my poison is your remedyBetter be scared, better be afraid, Now that the beast is out of her cage, And I know you, Wanna risk it, You know you Are so addicted. Boy, you better run for your life!Welcome to the nightmare in my head, (My god!) Say hello to something scary, The monster in your bed, (My god!) Just give in and you won’t be sorry, Welcome to my evil side, Hello it’s Mz. Hyde! Hello it’s Mz. Hyde! Hello it’s Mz. Hyde!I’m the spider crawling down your spine, Underneath your skin. I will gently violate your mind, Before I tuck you in. Put on the blindfold There’s no way to be sure, Which girl you’ll get tonight! (It’s me, Lzzy, I swear!)Welcome to the nightmare in my head, (My god!) Say hello to something scary, The monster in your bed, (My god!) Just give in and you won’t be sorry, The nightmare in my head, (Oh god!) Say hello to something scary, The monster in your bed, (Oh god!) Just give in and you won’t be sorry, Welcome to my evil side, Hello it’s Mz. Hyde! Hello it’s Mz. Hyde!"Doug liked the reaction from the judges. Ash was playing like she was in front of a full house not an audition. Promoters like that he thought. "now the lighter cover go 80's" Ash was working the stage an loving it, she came back to center an started her second song."I can't believe I could've been so blind, but love is strange I thought about it for a long long time, but the truth remains I don't need another lonely night to dry my tears The answer's plain as black and white, and I can see the picture very clearI been living on the edge of a broken heart I don't wanna fall, I don't wanna crawl I been living on the edge of a broken heart Don't you wonder why I gotta say goodbyeIt isn't like you never had the chance to change your tune Did you think that I'm a dime a dance, well the dance is through I been doing things your way too long, but baby that's over (baby that's over) It won't be easy, but I gotta be strong And if I wanna cry I don't need your shoulderI'll find someone else who's nothing like you And who can play the game as well And you're gonna be sorry baby - when it's overI been doing things your way too long, baby that's over baby that's over It won't be easy, but I've got to be strong And if I wanna cry I don't need your shoulderI been living on the edge of a broken heart I been living on the edge of a broken heart Don't you wonder why I gotta say goodbye I been living on the edge of a broken heart""Yes!" Doug thought. That was perfect an the look on the judges faces seemed to agree. Ash decided not to play during that song insted fully working the stage leaning out as if into the crowd using the full stage an great boday lanuage. Her two orginals went over just as well an even though he had heard Ash practice back at the theater here it sounded so much better for some reason. Ash packed up her guitar and talked to the judges for a few minutes. Doug finished his beer an headed down to meet Ash. She came out through security an saw him ran up and hugged him. He took her case an told her she was incredible.She looked at him "thank you" an then she narrowed her eyes an chuckled " i didn't think you were legal yet"He just gave her a grin. " Only a few weeks left, but hey don't ask don't tell right"Ash laughed looked at him devilishly " mmmm an a little bit of a bad boy too... very nice" an gave him a wink. They walked over to the theater since it was only a few blocks away. Ash left her guitar in her practice room an they talked to Buster an Eddie who were there working on some things. She said how the winner will be notified by noon tomorrow an how nervous she now was. They left Buster an Eddie at the theater an headed back to the waterfront for the day. They ate lunch out at the pier resturant. Ash had a huge margarita an Doug just another longneck knowing he was driving later. They walked the lake shore just talking an laughing. They watched the sunset over the lake from the pier an then headed back to the jeep.Doug walked her to ger door an they hugged. Ash leaned up an kissed him a little more passonailty this time. He looked down at her an she was biting her lip giving him those big blue eyes. She pulled away. "See ya at 7 rockstar" an gave him a wink as she closed her door. ______________________________________________ Doug rolled up a 7 am an picked up Ash they made a quick stop at the coffee shop then they were off to the theater. Everyone was gathered by the stage talking about their weekends when they arrived. Ash told everyone how the audition went an she should know in the next few hours. They all broke into their practice rooms to work on their projects.Doug has his routine ready for the 80's show so he was working on some new songs. He was sitting in one of the big chairs with his headphons on as Buster walked up an started watching. Doug got up lyric book in one hand a mic in the other Buster listened to him work out a new song line by line. To Buster this was true art an he loved it. Doug noticed him watching an smiled an waved an went right back to it. Buster nodded an then walked on to see what his other stars were doing.Doug looked at the clock it was 11:50 an now he was feeling a little nervous, "no word yet" he thought Then he saw Ash come running down the hall she swung open his door an screamed"I got the gig!!!" an she ran over an hugged him knocking him out of his chair an both of them onto the floor. He hugged her back an told her he knew she could do it. They both turned an looked to see the rest of the group just staring at them. They laughed got up an told Ash told everyone the news. They all congratulated her an she asked Buster an Doug to go with her to review the contract.They both agreed an they went over at lunch. Buster an Doug both read the contract an asked Ash if she had any questions. She shook her head no an they said it was a very good an fair contract. An with that Ash signed it. They asked her to stop by later an do a photo shoot for their ads. Ash asked Buster if Doug an her could have the rest of the day off. He smiled an said "sure."They grabbed their guitars an headed out if the theater, but Ash was headed for the park an not the jeep. "ummm where are we going Ash," he asked."To the park i wanna see someone" was her replyThey got to the park an Ash headed for the main fountain.Doug smiled as he saw she was going to talk to the violin playing lynx. The lynx saw them coming an stopped playing. "oh my Ash it's great to see you again" an she reached out an gave Ash a hug. "you too" Ash said "an i never did get your name last time"The lynx looked at them both. " oh I'm so sorry I'm Trinity... Trinity Paws" Ash explained to Trinity about the show an how she could bring anyone she wanted to play with. An she would love to do a song with her. Trinity was shocked but said ok.Ash stood there an looked at Trinity an Doug. "ok now will you too do a song for me?" They both looked at each other an nodded a little confused."Down An Out.. Tantric" Ash said.. They both looked at her with evil grins an they both said"oh yeah, you got it" Doug plugged in to her portable looked at Trinity an nodded. She hit the violin as He stepped to the mic an sang."I'm comin' up for air so I can Check myself again and I stand Proven to the man but sheltered Confidence we tend to (shove in) Unexpected hunger traps me Just shut up and stand beside me I don't need your understanding I don't need to change a damn thingAnd though I'm used to have you here It does not change the man I was When you found me and there was no one else around me Just turn the page and watch me grow There's so many things that you don't know about my soul Live and die but this will not get oldJust when you think that you're down and out Don't preconceive what I'm all about Look for a reason that you have to start Acting like a friend that you were not And when you think that we played it out We come from the bottom and knock it out Look for a reason that you have to start Acting like a friend but you were not, yeahNothing in between to fall through I'm being myself, who are you? You stand above and look down You're just a plagiaristic clown You suck the life out of me You keep track of the payee And when this wealth becomes dry You'll shed a tear for another lieAnd though I'm used to have you here It does not change the man I was When you found me and there was no one else around me Just turn the page and watch me grow There's so many things that you don't know about my soul Live and die but this will not get oldJust when you think that you're down and out Don't preconceive what I'm all about Look for a reason that you have to start Acting like a friend that you were not And when you think that we played it out We come from the bottom and knock it out Look for a reason that you have to start Acting like a friend but you were not, yeahAnd though I'm used to have you here It does not change the man I was When you found me and there was no one else around me Yeah, yeah, yeah, ohJust when you think that you're down and out Don't preconceive what I'm all about Look for a reason that you have to start Acting like a friend that you were not And when you think that we played it out We come from the bottom and knock it out Look for a reason that you have to start Acting like a friend but you were not, yeah"The crowd cheered an at the end the 3 of them hugged. Trinity said she would meet them later at the casino to give them all her infomation for her access pass. They said goodbye an headed off to Ash's place. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Ash an Doug met Trinity outside the casino an headed in. They were escorted to an elavator that took them to the top floor. Trinity an Doug gave the promoter all their information an were given their all access passes. Ash took her guitar an went into another room for the photo shoot an in about an hour they were done. Doug dropped Ash back off at home. " 7 am rockstar" she said standing by her door. He nodded an she leaned in an gave him a kiss. Then closed the door. He headed back to the jeep an headed across town to drop Trinity off. " You two make a cute couple" Trinity said as they drove across town.Doug sighed " were not really together yet but soon hopefully" "oh I'm sorry i just assumed" she lowered her head an sighed." It's ok we're both working through past things but its better everyday"He pulled up in front of Trinity's apartment building as she got out she touched his shoulder. " I wish the best for you both, you two look prefect together. She grabbed her violin case an waved as she went inside. ________________________________________________The rest of the week flew by. Ash had picked her other songs for the theater show an was getting her set list together for the casino. Doug was just working on new material in his room letting Ash completely focus on her work. Buster was walking the hall again an stopped at Dougs booth he hit the button an listened. "Out of touch, out of reach, yeah You could try to get closer to me I'm in luck, I'm in deep, yeah Hypnotized, I'm shakin' to my knees I gotta know tonight If you're alone tonight Can't stop this feeling Can't stop this fightOh, I get hysterical, hysteria Oh can you feel it, do you believe it? It's such a magical mysteria When you get that feelin', better start believin' 'Cause it's a miracle, oh say you will, ooh babe Hysteria when you're near"Buster loved it classic 80's an such feeling. He jumped a little when Rosita said " He's got it bad" an laughed. Buster then noticed that Dougs stair during that whole song was towards Ash's booth.He let go of the button. " heh yeah I'd say he does" He looked at Rosita an said " that's a good thing" She nodded an they both walked on up the hall. Ash told Buster her an Doug were ready for the show an if she could work on her set for the casino. He had them come in that Saturday an do their performance for him an the others. When they were done everyone agreed that they were ready so Buster agreed to let Ash get ready for her show.The next few weeks were very busy for both Ash an Doug. She was working on her set, an he was helping her during the day an working on getting the campgrounds lodge an amphitheater done at night. It was nearing the date of Ash's show an Rosita an Meena were walking up the hall when they stopped by Ash's booth. Doug was standing in there head down. It looked like he was tuning then they saw Ash walk overshe had her guitar slung behind her back. Rosita an Meena's eyes got huge when Ash bared a razor sharp looking claw an stuck it under Doug 's chin by his neck. His eyes looked up at her an he grined an in one quick motion he removed her claw from his neck turned her gand over an kissed it. Then Ash went back like she was working the crowd. They both breathed a sigh of relief it was part of her stage show. Ash an Doug saw them looking in an lost it laughing hysterically.Rosita frowned an hit the talk button " That's not funny you two" she said. All that did was cause them too laugh even harder. Rosita shook her head an walked away. _________________________________________________The big night was finally here. Ash was getting ready as Doug pulled up out front he grabbed his guitar case an knocked. Ash let him in an went back to getting ready. Doug went over both guitars an made sure they were perfect an spotless. Ash came out dressed almost like her audition she changed out the leather jacket for a dark purple leather vest. All her make-up was done in a dark blood red. "Well hello rockstar" He said as she entered the room. Ash laughed an replied " you look pretty good yourself" Doug chuckled an shrugged. He had polished his airbrushed boots put on a set of his leather pants an a snug fit Quillzone t-shirt an black leather vest. "You ready?" He asked picking up both cases. She nodded an they headed out to the Jeep an off to the waterfront.As they turned the corner Doug said " welcome to the big time" an pointed at the casino sign. There was Ash's picture holding her guitar with the headline. " Grand Opening Rock Party staring Ash!" On our outside cafe stage.She just staired at the sign then smiled. Doug followed securities instructions on where to park an headed inside. Ash went backstage with the promoter and some stagehands. He gave his case to a stagehand who was going to get it to him for the encore. He went out to the table an ordered a longneck. He was the first one there of the group.Trinity was the next to show up an join Doug she ordered a red wine an the two sat an talked as the others arrived. He introduced Trinity to everyone an then Doug noticed Rosita an Buster looking at him with the longneck in his hand. He just staired back an they smirked. Ash was backstage getting ready when the stage manager popped in 5 minutes till showtime. Ash nodded an did a final once over of everything. The cafe went dark an the cheers started a soptlight hit the promoter at the mic. " Welcome to the grand opening of the Rock Hard casino an cafe on the Waterfront. Now welcome the cities very own rockstar Ash!!"The crowd roared an the stage went black. The drums started an the light hit Ash the place exploded in cheers an she dropped her sunglasses down an sang."Back door bitches begging me to behold All their cash and cars platinum silver and gold We're like diamonds in the sky That is what we are told No mountain made of money Can buy you a soul, babyOoh, I can see it Ooh, I can see it Ooh, I can see it Coming down Ooh, I can see it Ooh, I can see it Ooh, I can see it Coming down It's a messed up world, what do you get? Sex & love and guns, light a cigarette Messed up world, what do you get from it? Sex & love and guns, light a cigarette Sex & love and guns, light a cigaretteBanging little boys bugging me on the bus Say they want to know who did it But the answer's really us see I don't know you, why do you want to know me? You ain't getting what you want Unless you're getting it for free, and babyOoh, I can feel it Ooh, I can feel it Ooh, I can feel it Coming down Ooh, I can feel it Ooh, I can feel it Ooh, I can feel it Coming downIt's a messed up world, what do you get? Sex & love and guns, light a cigarette Messed up world, what do you get from it? Sex & love and guns, light a cigaretteSex & love and guns, light a cigarette Sex & love and guns, light a cigarette Uuuh, yeahBack to these, Back door bitches begging me to behave Jamming Jesus down my throat No I don't want to be saved Ain't a chain on my brain I'm nobody's slave I got one foot in the cradle and one in the graveIt's a messed up world Sex & love and guns, light a cigarette Messed up world, what do you get from it? Sex & love and guns, light a cigarette Sex & love and guns, light a cigarette Sex & love and guns, light a cigaretteIT'S A MESSED UP WORLD! IT'S A MESSED UP WORLD! IT'S A MESSED UP WORLD!"The crowed was going nuts an Ash was working it like a pro. She finished the song an looked out at the packed cafe. Doug figured easily 800 to 1000 patrons here tonight. Ash raised a fist in the air an yelled " Hello Rock Hard!!!" The crowd yelled back.. She walked the stage an asked "You wanna gear some original stuff?" There was a roar of yes answered back. An Ash jumped off into a set of original songs.Everyone was loving the show at the table an drinks were flowing freely except for Doug an Trinity as they needed to stay clear to perform. Rosita heard a group of collage Antalope at the table next to them arguing. She heard the one say. " Dude that is Doug Points guitar she's playing" another yelled back " no way its a copy how the fuck would she get the guitar from Quillzones frontman"Rosita almost gagged on her drink as she started laughing. The whole table looked at her. She motioned Doug to come over by her. He did and listened in an looked at Rosita an laughed too. As he went to go back she tapped his shoulder an mouthed "Doug Points?" He gave her a yes but please don't look she nodded an he went back to his seat.About 50 minutes into her set Ash looked out to the crowd an said " a few weeks ago i met someone who plays an instrument you don't see often in Rock music an I would like to invite her up here tonight to do a song with me. Please welcome Trinity Paws!!"Trinity walked onstage an looked out at the sea of people took a deep breath and looked at Ash an nodded. The piano started Ash could tell Trinity was nervous an stayed close to her on stage.. She sang."Well, anywhere I go it's you, Im not done with you Tell me what you wanna do Never been afraid of you Just because you walk around Everyone you're talking down Don't you even make a sound I will drop you to the groundHey you better watch with the stare I see you coming undone Come on, come on, come on and get someCome on and get some Come on and get someWell, I will intimidate To the point that I'm frustrate Never seen this side of me Let the anger out of meJust because ive been reserved Many things you havent heard Dosent mean Im not aware If you push Ill take you thereHey you better watch with the stare I see you coming undone Come on, come on, come on and get some"The last verse repeating to fade out. They nailed it an the crowd loved it chanting " Trinity, Trinity " as she walked offstage an back out to the table. She got back to the table an Buster told her to stop by the theater on Monday if she is interested in joining there group. She looked shocked but thanked him an said she would be there. Doug looked over at Rosita an she was giggling again. The collage table was still arguing about the guitar an it seemed like everyone but the one didn't believe it. Ash finished up her set and yelled out " Thank you Rock Hard you were awesome" Then the stage went dark. Immediately the chants started "Ash,Ash,Ash" Ash ran backstage where a she was handed a towel an a bottle of water. She chugged half the bottle an poured the rest over her quills. The owner an promoter came up to her an told her this is going to be a monthly gig an if she wanted it, it was hers. She told them definitely an he said he would send out the contract an champagne after the show. He looked out toward the stage an said " I think your fans want you" he smiled an walked away.Ash came back on stage to the roar if the crowd. "Awww we're not done yet" She said into the mic she put her guitar down and grabbed the mic off the stand." Now i see someone special here at one of the front tables would you like to hear a duet tonight?""Yes!!!!!" boomed the crowd" Well ok but i guess we need to see if he has his... well... equipment on him tonight" The crowd laughed at the sexual undertone she put on that. Doug raised his finger an the stagehand brought his case to the table an he stood up. The Antalope at the next table was going off on his friends " see i told you" he was saying. A few still didn't believe him till Doug stopped in front of there table pointed at the 1 an gave him a thumbs up. The rest just sat there their jaws on the table.. "Ha, ha, ha i told you.. you all owe me shots now" Doug was up on stage tuning an Ash slung the guitar over her back an started walking toward him. Rosita an Meena smirked as they knew what was coming. The stage was dark except for a light on Ash an one on Doug. As she walked across the stage she held up her hand an bared that claw now painted blood red. You could hear gasps in the crowed as she drove it up under Dougs neck. He smirked an in one move removed it turned her hand over an kissed it. Ash grabbed the mic an yelled. " My partner in crime on... and off the stage... Doug from Quillzone!!!"The crowd went crazy and Doug did a guitar solo then grabbed a microphone." Well Ash you got me an my.." he looked down at his guitar slung low on his hips an smirked " umm equipment here on stage, so what are we doing?" The crowd laughed an Ash walked over an tapped him on the nose with the mic. Then got nose to nose with him an started playing an almost blues sounding intro. They both broke in opposite directions an Ash walked to the mic. "You can't trust a cold blooded man Girl, don't believe in his lies Can't trust a cold blooded man He'll love you and leave you alive There's one thing you must understand You can't trust a cold blooded man"Ash broke off an walked away as Doug came to the mic."Can't trust a cold blooded woman Boy, don't you lie in her bed You can't trust a cold blooded woman She'll love you and leave you for dead There's one thing you must understand You can't trust a cold blooded woman"Ash walked back over an the both sang into the mic."And all the times I stayed and wonder why, are to blame, oh And all the times that I'm reminded by, I'm ashamed, oh yeahYou can't trust a cold blooded lover You can't trust a cold blooded slave You can't trust a cold blooded other In the end they'll just drive you insane There's one thing you must understand You can't trust a cold blooded Can't trust a cold blooded Can't trust a cold blooded"Doug an. Ash "Woman" "man"An the stage went dark. She kissed him in the dark an said " I'll see in a few sweetie" an she ran backsatge as Doug came off stage an handed his case to the stagehand. He went back to the table an sat down. Trinity gave him a bug hug. An this got Roaita an Meena's attention till Trinity pulled out her phone an showed him a pic she just took. " See what i mean? you two look perfect together" Doug smiled an thanked her. Ash came out an casino security roped off their table. The promoter cam out with a contract an champagne for everyone. He also told the waitress that per the owner this table has a free tab all night. Ash looked at the promoter. "Thank you" she said."no, thank you" he replied an held his arms out to the sea of people. Buster an Doug reviewed the contract with Ash an it was good. Ash signed it an Doug noticed her signature was alot more than 3 letters. She realized he saw an mouthed "later" he nodded. She gave the contract to the promoter an the party began. Ash was doing top end tequila shots with beer chasers. Doug hit the top shelf 140 proof whiskey doing shots with beer chasers. Trinity stayed with her red wine but went to a better brand. Johnny was pacing himself with just beer as he was driving. Rosita was downing screwdrivers with 100 proof vodka. Buster an Gunter were getting lit off some tropical drinks with several different types of rum in them. It was a little after 1 am when Norman, Rosita an Meena left. It was about an hour later Eddie loaded up a very Drunk Buster an Gunter an drove them home. Trinity called it a night about 30 min later her fiance just got off work so she was heading home with him. So it was down to Ash, Doug, an Johnny. It was about 3am the promoter came out an told Johnny there was a car out front to get them home safely. He thanked him but assured him he was fine but he would get the other two in the car.The limo stopped outside of Ash's an the driver made sure they both got inside safely.Doug staggered to the couch an the second he was out of the leather pants an vest he immediately passed out. Ash covered him with a blanket an put aspirin an a sport drink on the table for him before grabbing the same for herself an heading to bed herself. __________________________________________________ Doug woke to a nice little headache. He looked around an saw the aspirin an drink on the table. He took them both laid back in the corner of the couch. He then realized he was down to his boxers an t-shirt. Ash came out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee. "Well your finally awake, I'll get you a cup" she giggled an went back to the kitchen. She handed him his cup an sat down next to him on the couch. Then he noticed she was in nothing but a nightshirt. "Ummm... Ash I really hate to ask this but.. ummm. did we do anything here last night?"He dropped his head embarrassed he had to ask this." No we didn't" Ash sighed " you came in an pretty much stripped down an passed out""Ahhh ok good" Doug said. Then he saw a look of confusion an hurt on her face.. "No, no ,no i don't mean it like that.. god no.. i would just want to remember it that's what i mean" He said She looked at him at smiled leaned over an kissed him. She got up an said grab a shower it will help it did for me. Doug let the water run over him an just relaxed. Ash was right his head felt fine now. He got out an dried off but couldn't find his clothes." Hey Ash have you seen my clothes?"" Yeah there in here just use a towel"He wrapped up an followed her voice. He ended up in the bedroom an there were his clothes on the one chest. Ash walked over to him an said "Feeling better now?"He nodded an pulled off her nightshirt. " Good now you will be able to remember it" she said as she pulled off his towel. ___________________________________________________ Later that afternoon they were laying in bed her head on his chest. She sat up an said let's see how the rest our doing today. He nodded went an got his phone an the both opened up their social media site. An sure enough there was a post from Meena.So how are my drunken theater friends today? Rosita: Alive barely but alive Johnny: I'm fine Gunter: gots za lil head hurt but fine here Buster: head hurts don't know how i got in Eddie's poolhouse or where my pants are.. Johnny: anyone heard from the rockstars yet?Ash looked at Doug kissed him an repliedAsh: were alive I'm officially not single anymore either. Doug looked at her. "Really?" she nodded he kissed her an typed.Doug: Best hangover cure dating the girl of your dreams. Rosita: Awww that's great you guys. What are you up too today. Doug: nothing just laying in bed right now.... Johnny: don't need to know... lol Rosita: oh.. well.. umm ok we will talk to you later then.. have fun.. Meena: ROSITA!!!!Ash an Doug were laughing hysterically an Doug went to respond an Ash stopped him an started typing.Ash: Thanks for the idea Rosita but we have already done that. Meena: OMG ASH!!! Gunter: ya vay to go you 2 porcupine power ya. Meena:GUNTER.... Buster: Congrats you two an Ash a word of advice. you two are young "have fun" as often as possible. Meena BUSTER that's it i am out, talk to you later. Ash: Lmao that was great see you all Monday..Ash put her phone down an looked at Doug."I think we should take the koala's advice" He looked at her an tossed his phone on the chair." Oh i most definitely agree" ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Ash woke up an looked at the clock. 9:45 am she giggled to herself at the fact that they never made it out of the bedroom yesterday. Then she noticed Doug wasn't in bed. She then caught the aroma coming from the kitchen. She got up an headed to the kitchen. She got to the kitchen an stood in the doorway an just watched. Doug was at the stove making breakfast for them. She walked over an gave him a hug." Morning sweetie... are those.." was all she could say."Yeah, strawberry banana pancakes, i remember you said they are are one of your favorites." he said an gave her a kiss.Ash got a cup of coffee an sat down. Doug finished up an gave her a plate an then got his coffee an food. When they were finished Ash grabbed the plates."You cooked I'll clean up, why dont you call Johnny an see if he can help move your stuff down from Lost Trees today" Doug went an got his phone while Ash cleaned up. He came back in the kitchen an told her Johnny would meet them at his site around 4. They had time so they loaded up their cases in the Jeep an decided to cruise down by the waterfront an take the backroads out the the campground.They met Johnny at the campsite an broke down Dougs home of the last few months. Johnny had brought a 6 pack with him an they were all sitting around the empty fire pit when Johnny raised his bottle."Here's to new friends" an he looked at both of them " an new relationships" They raised their bottles an the three tapped them together. It was starting to get dark an Doug suggested getting dinner at the lodge. The lodge parking lot was packed an when they walked in only the bar had seats. Mark waved them over. "Busy night tonight huh Mark" Doug said looking around."Yeah summer is getting close so busniess picks up." Mark said.Doug closed out his rent at the campsite an told Mark the amphitheater will be done in the next few weeks. Doug looked out at the full lodge an asked Ash. " Wanna do a quick set?" She nodded an Mark flipped the switches for the stage. As the stage lights came on it got the attention of everyone inside. As Ash an Doug were setting up a crowd was already forming by the stage. They played about 45 minutes doing some classic rock an some of Ash's work. The crowd loved it and wanted more. Ash put her guitar on the stand looked at Doug an said. " sing me something" an she went down in front of the stage. Doug thought a minute an went an talked to Johnny. Johnny came on stage an sat at the piano. Doug looked down at Ash standing with a group of girls center stange winked at her an sang."I see forever when I look in your eyes You're all I've ever wanted I always want you to be mine Let's make a promise to the end of time We'll always be together And our love will never dieSo here we are face to face and heart to heart I want you to know we will never be apart Now I believe that wishes can come true 'Cause when I see my whole world I see only youWhen I look into your eyes I can see how much I love you And it makes me realize When I look into your eyes I see all my dreams come true When I look into your eyesI've looked for you all of my life Now that I've found you We will never say good-bye Can't stop this feelin' And there's nothing I can do 'Cause I see everything When I look at youWhen I look into your eyes I can see how much I love you And it makes me realize When I look into your eyes I see all my dreams come true When I look into your eyesWhen I look into your eyes I can see how much I love you And it makes me realize When I look into your eyes I see all my dreams come true When I look into your eyes"Ash was just lost in his voice when the one girl next to her sighed an said "his voice is beautiful oh my god you are soo lucky" She just looked at her an nodded.. They closed up the stage said goodbye to Mark an headed back downtown. Ash's phone went off on the way back down. It was a message from Rosita. " Do you need me to pick you up in the morning?""No Rosita Doug has moved in so we will se you at the theater in the morning" Ash replied "oh that's great honey.. hopefully this will end the other problem as well."Ash looked at that last message an smirked a little. She hadn't even thought of that. They got back downtown and unloaded everything into Ash's place. Doug was putting away his lyric books an other paperwork while Ash was hanging his clothes in the closet. She hung up the last of his stuff an took a deep breath an smiled. Dougs scent was filling the once lonly apartment an she couldn't be happier. They finished putting the rest of Dougs things away an headed to bed. ______________________________________________Doug woke up an looked at the clock on the dresser 8:45 it read. "Ash wake up were late!" He said shaking her..They grabbed coffee downtown an headed to the theater. When they walked in everyone was waiting on them. Trinity was there with her fiance, a Panther in his late 20's. Trinity introduced him to them. "So your the 2 rockstars she can't stop talking about, great to meet you finally" he laughed.Buster came down the stairs an said " oh good i see our rockstars have finally arrived " He asked Trinity if she was ready to try out an she told him yes with the help of Ash an Doug. Buster nodded an the 3 took the stage. Ash told Doug to take vocals as the song sounded better with a male lead. Ash led them in an Trinty started playing an the sound was incredible. Doug grabbed the mic."Ohh All ready to fall, but I don't know Out a while, can't wade too far From this mistake that I madeRent view, you taken over my view Affecting all that I do And the gift is a takeI tried to figure out about the cloud That I am needing to know more about Stop, lost again, remind the mind And you will find me alone again With the beginning of timeYou've gotten no answer folds And would you walk away (and I walk away) You're playing the hand you hold from the very first day You gotta know when to fold and when to walk away (when to walk away) You're playing the hand you hold from the very first dayOh, here we go, drop, top, ready to rock And I'm not the one who brought down And get to the top of a mountain pinnacle Everyone's cynical, music's political, seldom originalSilent promotion you're feeling within yourself Just like the ocean, you're crashing against the well All of the time, you're forgetting about yourself Looking back after the facts What have you left yourself?You gotta know when to fold and when to walk away (when to walk away) You're playing the hand you hold from the very first day You gotta know when to fold and when to walk away (when to walk away) You're playing the hand you hold from the very first dayYou gotta know when to fold and when to walk away (when to walk away) You're playing the hand you hold from the very first day You gotta know when to fold and when to walk away (when to walk away) You're playing the hand you hold from the very first day You gotta know when to fold and when to walk away (when to walk away) You're playing the hand you hold from the very first day You gotta know when to fold and when to walk away"Everyone loved it an thought the electric violin was amazing. Buster applauded an asked " ok one more this time with Ash singing"They nodded and they both decided to the song the did in the park. When they finished Shatter Me. Buster just stood there in amazement not just Trinity's skills but the diversity in Ash lately he loved it. He told Trinity she was in if she wanted it an she could either stay or start tomorrow. She said that tomorrow would be better. Her fiance was a dective on the police force an he gets very few days off like today. They said goodbye to everyone an left. Everyone went to their practice rooms an started working on their projects. The next several weeks went by without incident Trinity was working with the others an on her own projects. Ash did her second gig at the casino to another full house. They were relaxing at home when Ash's phone went off. She looked at it growled an slammed it down on the table. Doug looked at her " Let me guess, Lance again" She nodded at growled again as her phone kept going off. she picked it up an showed him.Lance: Hey babes saw your show you were great Lance: Come on talk to me i said i was sorry.. Lance: Please.. we need to talk..Ash finally responded back.Ash: Look i fuckin told you already to get lost. you made your choice now fuckin live with it. There is absolutely nothing between us anymore. I have moved on so fuckin please do the same an stop contacting me."She turned off her phone an curled up with Doug. " give it an hour he will be knocking" she said. Just about 45 min later there was a knock on the door and Lance saying " come on babes i know you don't mean that. just talk to me." Doug got up an put his boots on. Quills already stiffening he walked over an opened the door. The look of shock on Lance's face was priceless when he was face to face with Doug. " Can i fucking help you?" Doug snapped at him." I need to talk to Ash an really it's not your fuckin busniess man" Lance sneered.Doug stepped out on the porch closed the door behind him. "It is completely my fucking busniess when my girlfriends stalker ex won't leave her alone. She had made it very fucking clear you two are over. Now go back to your girlfriend before something fucking bad happens"Doug kept walking toward Lance an he retreated off the porch to the lawn. " A second rate guitar player an singer with a failed frontman you two deserve each other" Lance hissed as he retreated to his van an took off. Doug was walking back in when he saw Ash's neighbor in her window. She was smiling an gave him a thumbs up. He waved an went back in. Doug finished up the amphitheater over the next few weeks. Ash performed to another sold out show at the casino an was loving it. The big amphitheater concert was coming up fast now. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It was 2 weeks till showtime when Ash an Doug walked into the lodge an saw Mark sitting there with a worried look on his face. "Whats up?" Doug asked as they sat down at the bar. Mark explained that his bass player an keyboardist were not gonna make it due to something in there family an they will be out of the country for the next month. Mark just shook his head "Im not sure what to do here" he said. Doug had an idea.. Do you have a set list yet? he asked Mark nodded an pulked out a notebook an flipped a few pages."Here it is," mark saidDoug looked it over an called Joey." Sup?" Joey said as he answered. "How far are you from being here?"Doug asked "About 17 hours, why?" You interested in playing in Marks set an then mine at the concert?"Doug asked There was a long pause then Joey said,"are you fucking with me man?" Doug said," nope this is the real deal.. you up for it?" Joey said,"hell yeah i up for it, ill see you all tomorrow."" So now you have a bass player,"Doug said "Now for a keyboardist" as he dialed Johnny's number. Well that conversation went about the same as Joey's but now Mark was set again. An Joey an Johnny would be here tomorrow to check out the set list. Mark said thanks an asked if we wanted a drummer for our set. Doug looked at Ash she nodded so Doug asked"who you got in mind?"Mark said his stand in drummer is a big fan of hard,rock an thrash and it just dawned on him that he may know of you. "Let me call him an see"Mark said. Mark called a number and when they answered Mark said " Tommy? yeah this is mark i got a question for you.... you ever heard of a band called" Mark looked at Doug and before Doug could answer Ash said Quillzone. Doug looked at Ash as she just sheepishly smiled and Doug smiled back. "Quillzone" mark replied. He must have said yes and why because Marks next response was "well the founder an lead singer is sitting at my bar right now. He didn't believe him so he asked Doug if he could send him a pic. Doug stood up an nodded. Mark sent the pic Tommy said something an Mark hung up. Doug looked at Mark a little confused an Mark said " He will be here in 20 min".. an started laughing. About 20 min later they heard a car in the lot. The door opened an there stood a coyote in his late 20s Doug guessed.Mark came around the bar an said. Tommy this is Doug. Doug...Tommy Tommy came over an shook Dougs hand an said"oh man its great to meet you i saw you live 2 years ago at Thrash Fest""Really," Doug said, You went almost 1000 miles to see a concert? "Hell yeah, your fans will travel man trust me" he said.With that Mark said" yeah they will, my campground along with the other 3 around here are booked solid and all the hotels are sold out too. I'm running out of tickets" Tommy looked over an said" hey you're Ash from the show in town right?" She nodded "wow i met 2 rockstars today this is awesome thanks Mark" Tommy saidThe 3 jammed for about an hour before Ash an Doug said goodnight an headed home.____________________________________________________When Ash an Doug pulled into the campground they saw another car in the lot an older sedan covered in band stickers.Doug just smiled an said, "Joeys here" They walked into the lodge an saw an older porcupine probably in his 30s talking to Mark."Sup Joey!" Doug yelled as they walked in Joey came up gave Doug a hug an pat on the back."good to see ya man, been awhile"Doug agreed an introduced him to Ash.Joey held out his hand. Ash took it an said , "nice to meet you Joey." Joey looked over an said, "you must be Johnny." Johnny looked a little confused as to how this person knew him but said, yeah, and shook his hand. Joey said " Doug speaks so highly of all of you it is great to see he has fallen in with a good buch of friends." "Ok let me see your set list" Joey said Ash gave him a copy and he looked it over "Ok 2 separate sets? I know the Quillzone, but the first set, Ash's work?" Joey asked Yeah Doug replied Ash is doing the 1st set an i am doing the second. Joey nodded an said please tell me you 2 are going to do. Doug said. look at the encore Joey smiled an nodded" that song is going to be epic with you do doing it" He looked at the 1st few songs an looked at both of them. He took off his glasses an Ash noticed his eyes were a cold ice grey. " I take it by these songs not everything is sunshine an happiness here?" "When is it ever?" Doug said as he put his arm around Ash.Joey just nodded he knew not to press this situation." So let me see this troublesome guitar" Joey said trying to move away from the other subject. Ash grabbed the case an brought Joey the guitar He looked it over an agreed Doug had done everything he could to fix it.Joey plugged in and went to play some scales an right off the bat it was bad. He tried tuning and adjusting to no avail.He pulled out some tools an said here is the issue.There is a slight twist in the neck an that is causing all the issues.Ash just sat there stairing at the guitar."can it be fixed?"she asked Joey sighed " yes but i will have to take it with me tear it down completely an rebuild it from scratch. if it has meaning or you wanna mod it this would be the time" Doug sat down next to her and said."whatever you want to do sweetie" Ash sighed and said"i know there are bad memories here as she ran her hand across the guitar, but i also wrote my 1st big song with it." "maybe if we can come up with a new design i can keep the good memory and lose the rest" she said and looked at Doug. He nodded and she hugged him. Thank you she wispered in his ear. Joey smiled an nodded Ash put the guitar in the case an Joey put it with his things." Let me know about the design an mods, Joey said to both of them. They nodded then Joey asked, "what are you playing now Ash?" Before she could answer Doug said "Q1"Joey just looked at the both of them." I really need to hear you play" Joey said to Ash beause nobody has ever touched Q1 other than Doug. "Well lets go" Doug said as he grabbed Ash's an his case an headed for the amphitheater.When they got there Eddie had finished helping fine tune the board. "Have a seat" he told Joey as the rest if the group sat down.As they were on stage Doug asked ,"what do you want to play?" Ash thought for a second an smiled said"creeping death" Doug nodded told Eddie what to set up Ok, Doug shouted into the mic, here's a little "creeping death" for you. An with that they were off when it came to the guitar solo Ash nailed it an the look on Joeys face was total amazement. When the song was over Joey walked up an said"Ash i didn't mean anything earlier it's just nobody has ever played his guitar" Ash said, " its ok i understand" You are amazing, Joey said. "Thank you," Ash said as she was putting the guitar away.The next night they rocked the amphitheater with everything from classic rock to hard core thrash and when they were done Ash was just standing there looking out at the seats 'You ready for this?" Doug askedAsh drew in a deep breath an said "yeah i think so" They put there guitars on the stands an just looked out at the empty amphitheater. ____________________________________________________It was the Tuesday before the show an Doug an Ash were still at it in the practice booth. They had been working nonstop for the last week getting ready for the show.They were just finishing up a song when there was a knock at the door it was Rosita. "come on you two take a break and lets get lunch" Rosita said. Doug looked at Ash an said "you hungry?" Ash nodded an said "yeah lets go" The whole group walked down to the cafe and got an outside table. The town was already getting busy with people here for the show. Rosita looked at Doug an said "ok we need to steal Ash tomorrow after practice to go shopping for the concert"" That's cool," Doug said, "I'll just probably jam with Joey an Tommy then." Doug looked over at Johnny "you wanna come too?" he asked. Johnny nodded and said "yeah that would be great" The next day after practice the girls were getting ready to head off to the waterfront mall."Have fun"Doug told Ash as he gave her a hug. Ash leaned back an gave him a kiss an said"I will, call me later rockstar" an with that the girls headed down the street laughing with each other. Doug was watching them go when he felt a tap on his shoulder, it was Johnny" Hello Doug we going or what?" he asked "Huh oh yeah sorry," Doug replied, lets go Doug headed out towards the campground with Johnny following. The girls were in the one rock store where Ash was checking out a new set of boots. Bright white with a good size heel an fringe. Ash liked them but asked Rosita if they could dye the fringe purple before the show. Rosita nodded an said she could do it tomorrow. With that Ash went up to pay when she heard. "Oh hi Ash" Ash turned an saw Becky standing there with a few of her little friends.. " Getting ready for your little show" she hissed and her friends just laughed. Rosita was about to step in when she saw this look on Ash she never saw before.Ash looked right at Becky an said. "Yes we are getting ready for our little show if you want to consider playing in front of 2 or 3 thousand people little "Becky was taken aback by Ash's aggressive response an sneered "well see how good it goes""oh so your going then?" Ash said "uh well yeah" Becky shot back An evil smile came across Ash as she said." i could care less what you or you little boyfriend think about me or Doug, the fact is we will be the ones up on stage preforming in front of those thousands of people, while you all will be in the crowd watching us, let that sink in to your little brain" An with that Ash spun around paid for her boots an the 3 of them walked out Rosita an Meena laughing hysterically at the look on Beckys face. Back up at the campground Doug. Joey An Tommy were getting ready to jam. Their music wasn't Johnny's style but was glad Doug invited him anyway. He decided to chill with Mark an go over there set a little more.Doug noticed the crowd forming near the amphitheater .Mark had a barrier put up to keep the campers out till show time but you could still see them. Ok lets hit this hard and lead them into "American capitalist" followed by "ashes" then finally "the way of the fist" Joey came up to Doug an said "come on man I'm old i can't do this all night" Doug looked at him confused an then Joey shoved him an said " you seriously believed that?!" come on lets rock.. The girls sat down at the food court for dinner still laughing about Becky an her little friends. Rosita turned to Ash an said. "well someone definitely has her confidence back i see" Meena nodded an said "Ash that was great you put her in her place" Ash nodded an smiled, she looked around at all the new people in town an took a deep breath. "Ash you ok honey?" Rosita asked looking a little concerned. Ash shook it off an said "yeah Rosita its just nerves, its gonna be a big night alot bigger than tbe casino" Rosita nodded an said "you will be fine your voice is great an on that guitar you are amazing" Ash just sat back an smiled at that as she played with the zipper of Dougs jacket that she had on. Rosita an Meena both noticed that an knew where they were off too next.After finishing at the food court they headed out to Rosita's van an piled in. "ok where to now?" Ash asked Rosita looked over at Meena an said "i think i wanna hear some music" As she turned the van out of town. Wait what? Ash said as they were heading out towards the camoground. "oh come on honey we both know where you really want an need to be" Rosita said an Meena nodded. Ash leaned up from the back seat an gave them both a hug. "Thanks you two,"she said as she sat back an looked out the window at the mountains. When they got to the lodge the place was packed with cars, trucks, campers it was crazy. Johnny noticed Rosita's van an waved her over by staff parking. Mark said it was fine so they left the van there an went to see Johnny. "Hey what are you all doing here?" Johnny asked" Well we finished up shopping early an ate so we figured we would give Ash her Doug fix" Rosita laughed. Funny funny you guys, Ash said as she got her case from the back of the van. "Amphitheater?"Ash asked Mark and he said, yeah they been there about 3 hours now. Mark waved his finger an Steve one of Marks sons came over. "Escort Ash an hef friends down to the amphitheater please. Mark said. "Sure no problem." Steve said as he led them across the lot. " don't worry Ash , Mark is just being careful because of how busy it is here" Steve said Ash nodded as Steve opened the fence an let them in. Now this drew the attention of the group near the gate an they were all looking to see who was let in. Ash could hear the people over the music. " who did they let in? look over there is that Ash? yeah i think so.." This caught Ash's attention an she looked over. There was a group of about 10 or 15 girls in their late teens early 20s Ash guessed pointing to her and screaming"Ash we love you!!!" Ash looked at Steve an he nodded an took Ash's case an walked her over to the fence where the girls were. They went nuts begging for anautograph. They stuck pens an paper through the fence an Ash signed something for all of them.They were ecstatic jumping up an down screaming. Ash said goodbye to her fans an headed back towards the amphitheater. When she got back by the others Rosita said. "looks like Dougs not the only rockstar here" Ash nodded an felt some of the nerves drift away. They got up to the edge of the amphitheater an just watched. Doug Joey an Tommy were belting out "bodies" by drowing pool an they sounded awesome together. They then went into "i stand alone" by godsmack. Ash was sneaking up the side as to not be seen by Doug. Joey caught her an smiled an she motioned to keep Doug looking the other way. Joey nodded and kept Doug stage right as Ash got ready Rosita got a wireless adapter for her guitar and a mic from Eddie without being seen. As they finished the last song Doug was getting ready to say something when Ash said into the mic "hey rockstar!" Doug spun around to see Ash standing there ready to jam, He looked down an the rest of the group there just watching. "So" Ash said as she started playing an intro " Do you wanna " scream with me"" and with that they were into mudvayne. They played for about another hour an then called it a night. Mark had a crew to close up the amphitheater so all they had to do was pack up there guitars.As they walked back across to the lodge Johnny offered to carry their cases to which they both agreed. People were cheering an yelling out their names an Ash was surprised to hear how many were yelling her name. "see" Doug said as he put his arm around her. " you are already famous" She just smiled as they walked into the lodge. They hung out for another hour before heading home for the night. ____________________________________________________It was concert day an Doug was waiting for Ash to finish getting ready. When she came out he couldn't believe hot great she looked. New white boots with purple fringe white leather pants she picked a tight fit Quillzone t-shirt an her purple leather vest. She did her nails an eyeshadow in deep purple too. He walked over an gave her a kiss " Hello beautiful" he said.Ash laughed an tickled his quills. "Lets go traffic is going to be crazy" An she was right the 30 min trip to the campground took 2 hours. Once there Marks sons directed them to park by the lodge. They headed inside an put their cases on the cart to head down to the amphitheater. Rosita Meena an Johnny showed up next followed by Buster an Gunter. They were all sitting at the roped off vip table with Mark, Joey an Tommy preping for tonight.The crew an security showed up to move the instruments an other stuff down to the stage. Mark had his other son Bill take the group down zto the amphitheater and get them set up in the vip area. A large golfcart was waiting outside and Mark asked them if they wanted to ride or walk down. Doug looked at Ash an said to Mark, we will walk. Mark nodded an when Bill got back up he told him to make sure Doug an Ash got there safe. Bill nodded and keyed his radio. when they got to the lodge door there were 6 more wolves in security uniforms waiting for them.Ash couldn't believe the protection they had. Doug saw her looking back an forth and said." its cool its like this at every big show just try an enjoy it" Ash smiled an said "oh i love it" and pointed an started laughing. There across the parking lot was Lance, Becky and a handful of there little followers.Doug noticed Lances stare and stopped and removed his glasses. "Doug what are you doing,' Bill asked concerned Doug laughed an took his glasses and put them on Ash an kissed her. "just having a good time, relax Bill " An they continued right past them security eyeing Lance an his friends the whole time "ahhh the life if a rockstar right Ash" Doug said as they walked by. "most definitely" she replied never even looking at them. They got down in the vip section with the others an they were even shocked at the amout of security. All except for Buster being in show business his entire life none of this was new to him. "Ahh our rockstars made it safely." Buster said. They nodded and proceeded to tell them about there run in with Lance in the parking lot. An the whole table broke out laughing. It was about 5:45 so Johnny went an joined Mark, Joey an Tommy onstage. Doug saw Johnny look out to the rapidly filling amphitheater an let out a big breath. Doug yelled "you got this Johnny, no worries" and gave him a thumbs up. Johnny gave him one back and got to the piano. Marks set was really good and Johnny nailed every song. The place was rockin an before they knew it there time was coming up fast. "Ok rockstar you ready for this?" Doug said to Ash as he stood up an put out his hand. She took a deep breath and grabbed his hand an said "lets do it" An they disappeared around the side of the stage. Now up in back of the stage They were getting ready tuning and waiting for there que.Mark finished up an encore an said "before you all go i wanna introduce the man who helped this all come together. Lost trees put your hands together for Doug" The crowd roared as Doug walked on stage in his black doc martins leather pants the same quillzone tshirt Ash was wearing leather jacket an sunglasses. he definitely looked the part of a rockstar badass Rosita thought. Doug took the mic an thanked the crowd for coming.Then he set his guitar down an asked the crowd," do you like 80s rock!?" The crowed roared.Buster couldn't believe what was happening. "Well the Moon theater will be putting on an all 80s show the end of this month so don't miss out get your tickets at the box office in town" Doug looked down at Buster an gave him a thumbs up. Buster mouthed thank you. an Doug nodded Back to the center stage he put the mic on the holder an said " now alot of you know who i am" the crowd went nuts again. " well you know i haven't been playing in a long time , but i have found my renewed passion. The crowd cheered. "Do you wanna meet the person who gave me my life back!?" Doug yelled into the mic. The crowd screamed "Yes!!!" Doug looked to the side of the stage where Ash was waiting and she nodded. "if you're from around here you may know her, Ladies an gentleman i give you Ash!!!" The crowd exploded when she came on stage chanting "Ash,Ash, Ash. Ash grabs the mic and " Thank you lost trees!!!!" Ash yells into the mic The crowd roars back. Ash puts the mic on the stand an looks out at the crowd "you all are hear to go hard right!!!?" Ash screamed into the mic. The crowd roared "yes!!!!"Ash walked across the stage looking out well these 2 songs are going out to two completely different men." the crowd staired at her waiting for her to continue. " The first goes out to a sad little boy who thought he could control me, could put me down constantly, to tell me i was no better than 2nd place in life" Yelling from the crowd " fuck that lil bitch", what a loser,,, fuck him we love you Ash." "well i got something to tell him" Ash said. "and what was that?"Doug asked " im in love with sombody and "it's not you" Ash screamed into the mic. The theater group looked out at the sea of people, they they were loving it as were the four on stage, Ash belting out lead while Doug Joey An Tommy backed her up. It was amazing but wow they all thought. After that song Doug grabbed the mic an said " Well Ash who are you in love with then" an the crowd erupted in laugher. Ash took the mic away from him an tapped him on the nose with it. Again laugher from the crowd "Now the second song goes out to a man, a real man one that showed me i was better than i even thought i was, one that gave me the courage to be here in front of you all" The crowd cheered as Ash put her guitar down and walked up to Doug and said "one who 'adrenalize"me"" An Tommy launched them off into that song. Interesting Rosita thought very sultry an hot but still pretty hard core to. An it was very amusing to watch Doug try an play while Ash was all up an over him during the song, but he maintained his composer throughout.After Ash finished Doug again grabbed the mic an said" damn lost trees is it hot here or what" fanning himself. The crowd cheered an laughed then fell quiet as Doug took off his guitar and set it down. "Now i have covers I'm putting out there" Doug said an the crowd roared. "These both go out to that man... no wait that little insecure boy who thinks he is a god" The crowd booed an hissed "Well he may think he is a god but i know "I.M Sin""An Tommy launched them off into that song. The group was just watching in shock Doug no guitar pacing the stage looking out into the crowd. They all knew who he was looking for an the saw a small smirk on Doug an they knew he found him. They watched Doug climb the stairs to a platform about 15 feet above the stage. He zeroed in on who the figured was Lance and sang "If there was ever a time you needed to walk the fuck away,It's right fucking now, right fucking here!"An he ran back down the stairs as Ash went into a hard core guitar solo..When he finished the song he was still pacing an then Joey hit the mic. "Hey Doug if this child has such a god complex i don't think he will get it. can you be more direct," Doug laughed and nodded as he took of his glasses an threw them to the crowd and took of his jacket and tossed it aside. " i need to tell him 1 thing" Doug screamed "whats that?" Joey asked" i gonna "dot your eyes" Doug screamed An this song was stright out hateful and hardAgain Doug pacing the stage looking like he was ready to rip someone in half. Then he was back up on the platform when Ash sang." You know how the saying goes?It's not the size of the dog in the fight.It's the size of the fight in the dog."an with that the spotlight hit Doug on the platform where he finished the song. After it was over Doug came back down put his jacket back on an gave Ash a hug.The whole crowd went awwwww They laughed and Doug said"now i know you want to hear quillzone right? The place went crazy. " ok its gonna be a little different we are gonna do a 12 song set." the crowd went nuts.Doug held up his finger an the crowd quieted down. "the 1st 6 are Ash's own work an she is gonna lead us off." the roar of the crowd almost knocked them off the stage "an i will do the Quillzone set" More thunderous chants as they launched into the first set. Rosita was very impressed with Ash's songs and how well they played together. Before they knew it Doug played his last song and the stage went dark. Backstage they put there guitars down and Ash basically tackled Doug in a hug knocking them both to the floor. " That was amazing" she said and kissed him "now now you will have time for that later" Joey laughed its encore time. Joey helped Ash up then Doug.Ash grabbed her guitar and headed around to the other side of the stage as the crowd was chanting "Ash an Doug, Ash an Doug" Doug walked out on stage and everyone cheered he grabbed a mic an said "awwwwwww lost trees we're not done yet, we got a very special one for you right now " An then Ash entered from the other side an started playing a soft melody. "If your here with that special someone hold them close, hell if you're just here with a friend hold them close an lets see those lighters an cell phones lite this place up. We love you lost trees" With that Doug an Ash went into a beautiful duet that seemed made for them towards the end of the song they were both singing into the same mic an Eddie combined to spotlights to make a heart an out a rose filter over it. They finished out there song and the light faded to black.. After a few minutes of darkness the stage lit up an they all walked back out. Doug said "The band.... Joey on the bass.. Tommy on the drums Eddie running the board an lights an last but definitely not least my co lead and my life Ash." The crowd was going nuts. An Ash was just drinking it all in. It was absolutely amazing. After about an hour of signing autographs an taking pictures security kept the fans back as everyone kicked back at the lodge. Mark came over an said how absolutely awesome this was an he had gifts for Doug an Ash an all there friends. They all just sat there in shock as Mark handed out envelopes to the ladies. "This is a whole day spa package at the luxury resort by the waterfront. this is for tomorrow an trust me Ash you will need this tomorrow." For the boys its a whole day expense paid at the waterfront. My way of saying thank you for all if this, as he motioned to the full campground. The after party lasted into the early morning. Ash was gonna stay at Rosita's tonight so they can get a jumpstart on tomorrow. Doug walked her out an gave her a passionate kiss. "See you tomarrow night sweetie" he told her as she got in the van. Joey joined Doug on the ride dowtown an stayed at Doug an Ash's place for the night. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The next day was just fun an goofing off the girls were getting pampered at the spa. An Doug an the boys were tearing up the waterfront. Doug an Johnny racing jet skis on the lake playing beach volleyball with fans and just relaxing and having a good time. ____________________________________________________Down on the other side of the waterfront Lance an a few of his friends were heading into one of the rock bars. He had lined up a gig for a hard rock set an he really needed it today. After leaving the concert last night he an Becky had a huge fight an once again he was single. He was already working a slight buzz when he met the owner who gave him an open account with the bar. He immediately got 2 bottles of whiskey an headed for the stage. The sun was setting an he was on soon. Doug an Johnny were walking down the boardwalk talking to fans when Doug heard the sound of some hard core rock. They walked up an on the small outdoor stage was Lance an two others. He came to the mic an sang."It's not that complicated and you ain't gotta believe They'll put me down in a hole before I let you succeed I've never been complacent, I can't afford to be I know you think you're special but you ain't nothin'Can you read between the lines? Or are you stuck in black and white? Hope I'm on the list of people that you hate It's time you met the monster that you have helped create Boo!You've pushed me one too many times I'm sick of all of the fiction, we're gonna settle it You've pushed me one too many times I'm sick of all of the shit, I'm gonna settle it!It's not that complicated and you ain't gotta believe They'll put me down in a hole before I let you succeed I've never been complacent, I can't afford to be I know you think you're special but you ain't nothin'Well there's nothing you can say to me now And there's nothing you can do to stop me It's hard not to be a menace to society When half the population is happy on their kneesYou've pushed me one too many times I'm sick of all of the fiction, we're gonna settle it You've pushed me one too many times I'm sick of all of the shit, I'm here to settle it!'Cause I can't take it anymore I refuse to live this way It's not that I don't care enough, it's not that I can't see It's everything inside of me that won't let me be you It won't let me be you!It's not that complicated and you ain't gotta believe They'll put me down in a hole before I let you succeed I've never been complacent, I can't afford to be I know you think you're special but you ain't nothin' No, you ain't nothin' And you'll never succeed I know you think you're special, but you ain't nothin'But you ain't nothin'!"They listened to a few more each as hard an hate filled as the 1st. Doug looked at Johnny."To bad he's such an asshole cause he's not to bad" Doug said..Johnny shrugged, "Not my style but yeah i guess your right."Lance saw them he took a swig out of the whiskey bottle an flipped them off. They both laughed an walked on. It was getting late an they met Joey an Tommy at the one club an Johnny said he was calling it a night. The other 3 ordered drinks an the party continued for a few more hours. They were sitting there just relaxing when Dougs phone went off."Little woman calling you huh." Joey laughed Doug gave him the finger an answered. " Hey, how was.. wait .. what.. ok slow down what's going on?" Doug shot up an headed for the door. Joey right behind him " what's going on?!" "Lance an his buddies are at Ash's an trying to get in" Doug said.They were running for the parking garage Joey an Steve checked their 45's they slwsys carry. Doug called Johnny, Johnny said he was heading there to take care of the followers. He told Doug as long as Lance doesn't get in he will leave him till he got there.____________________________________________________When they arrived Johnny had Lances little friends contained as Lance was still slamming himself against the door. "Not such a tough talker now are you, why don't you say that shit to my face bitch" Lance yelled as he beat on the door. He was so enraged he never saw Doug arrive or come across the lawn. " Gee where is you tough talking boyfriend now bitch"."right behind you" Doug said as he grabbed Lance by the jacket and threw him off the porch. Lance crashed onto the concrete walkway but to everyone's suprise got right up an pulled a knife. Doug saw Joey go for his gun an waved him off. " I got this Joey" Doug said. "You ain't got shit Lance hissed as he came at Doug. Doug sidestepped him but still caught the blade on the arm."Your not so tough" Lance laughed an came at Doug again. This time Doug caught Lances arm and bent it back breaking it at the elbow. Lance screamed in pain an dropped the knife. Doug then came around with a shot just above Lances eye followed by one to the nose an an uppercut to the jaw. Lance crashed to the ground bleeding Doug walked up an kicked him in the ribs. "Not so tough against a man huh or without a weapon you little bitch. get up !!" Doug screamed at him Lance with a fistful of dirt threw it in Dougs face an came up an punched Doug in the mouth. Then lost his balance an fell back on his already broken arm.Doug staggered back an cleared his eyes wiped the blood from his now split lip an smiled. Joey said "oh little boy you just fucked up" Doug charged Lance as he was getting up an got him around the waist and slammed him into the side of his van. He took him to the ground and repeatedly punched Lance in the face. Doug got up walked away then turned back around. Joey stepped in "Doug" Joey said with his hands up. " No I'm good" Doug said Doug grabbed Lance by the jacket an put him against the van. Lance was almost hysterically crying now begging for Doug to stop. Doug leaned in real close and said "if you, your girlfriend, or your friends even look in Ash's general direction again this beating will resemble a friendly handshake. do you understand me.?" Lance an his little friends all nodded. An Joey said " if you're thinking about going to the cops well don't" as he opened his jacket to reveal his 45 an Steve did the same. They all nodded again an Doug tossed Lance to his friends. "Now get the fuck out of here" Doug yelled.They piled into Lances van an took of.Doug turned around an yelled for Ash. Then he saw her standing in the now open door. He ran up the walk an cleared the steps completely coming to a stop in front of her. She collapsed in his arms still shaking uncontrollably "hey hey i got you, everything is all right" Doug said as Ash had a death grip on him. She was starting to calm down when they heard Johnny."Ash you ok?" Never releaseing her grip on Doug she looked up an said " Yeah I'm ok now thanks everyone" Johnny was about to say something when he looked down and saw a puddle of blood where Doug was standing. "Ummm Doug you need to check yourself" Johnny said pointing down. Doug an Ash both looked an saw the puddle. The cut wasn't that bad on his arm Doug thought, but. when Ash let go Doug saw a steady flow of blood coming from his left hand. "Aww fuck" Doug said looking at his hand.Ash saw it an panicked. She told Johnny get Doug into the kitchen as she ran inside. They got Doug over the sink an Ash had warm water running. "this is gonna hurt like hell" Doug said Johnny offered out his hand an Doug nodded and grabbed it with his good hand then put his other under the water. Yep there was that blinding pain he knew was coming. After a few minutes they could see the damage. One of the punches must have caught Lances k9 tooth and ripped Doug open from knuckle to the back of his wrist. It was wide and deep. Ash was holding onto Dougs shoulders when Johnny asked " Doug can you move your fingers?" Doug moved his two outside fingers but nithing from the two in the middle. Ash felt Doug start to shake he looked at her tears already filling his eyes. "Ash i can't feel my two fingers" he said and dropped his head Johnny looked at Ash an saw the terror in her eyes."We got to get you to the e.r Doug" Johnny said He nodded as they put his arm in a sling an wrapped his hand in a few towls. they led him outside. Joey, Steve an Bill were waiting outside when they saw the 3 come out of the house. Joey stepped forward "Doug?" he asked Doug looked up already tears running down his face. " It... its bad joey... real bad." Doug said an put his head down again. Ash looked at Johnny an he knew she needed to either pull it together or lose it so he said "Tell them Ash I'll get Doug in the truck " As Johnny walked Doug to the truck Ash fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands. Joey ran over an knelt beside her." Talk to me Ash. please.." Joey pleaded Ash looked up at Joey an Mark an said" He can't feel 2 of his fingers as tears streamed down her face. it's all my fault" Ash sobbed "No it not Ash listen to me" joey said in a tone that startled her a little.Joey relized this an said "I'm sorry Ash but this is not your fault dont ever think that. music is Dougs passion but you are his life ."Ash looked up at them an said "i don't know what to do?" " You need to be strong for him now" joey said "Just like he is for you, you too need to feed off each other right now.. understand?"Ash looked at him an nodded.. she dried her eyes an ran for the truck.Keep us posted.. Joey yelled. Ash got in the truck and Doug laid his head on her shoulder. She could feel him wince in pain every time he moved his hand. She could feel his tears soaking into her shirt. " I'm scared Ash" Doug said with his face buried in her shoulder. " im so scared. Johnny looked over an could see Ash was fighting to hold back tears of her own. She took a breath an stroked the quills on the top of his head. " no matter what happens no matter how long anything takes i want you to know i am going to be right by your side ok" Ash said as she held him close to her. Ok" Doug said as he held himself tighter to Ash. It seemed like forever to get to the e.r. but they finally made it. Ash got Doug out of the truck and inside where she explained what was going in. people in the waiting room saw Doug and his hand an the look on there faces was almost as bad as Dougs.The nurse went to take him back but he had a grip on Ash the nurse said fine but Johnny had to wait out here." Keep me posted "Ash. Johnny said. They took him back and did xrays other scans an tests. While they were waiting for those results the nuse said they want to do a nerve pain test. Doug agreed The nurse said it is usually done with a needle but for some reason porcupines only respond to anothers quill. Ash nodded figured where her sharpest ones were an pulled one out. The nurse stuck Dougs fingers with Ash's quill but just like at the house nothing on the 2 fingers. Ash felt the tears again but forced them back. "I'm gonna get the neurologist", the nurse said. " you ok if i go update Johnny?" ash asked Doug just nodded. Ash came out to the waiting room sat down and fell against Johnny an started to cry again. "Still nothing" Johnny asked She just shook her head an cried.After a few minutes Ash felt a little better she needed to get that out an now hopefully she could focus more clearly. She hugged Johnny's arm "Thanks" she said "For what?" Johnny asked "For being here" Ash said as she went back in.When she got back the nurse was there with the dr and they had her quill again. Doug did not look happy about this. "We have dipped the end of your quill in a solution that will severely increase the pain of the stick. now this is going to be nowhere near pleasant" the dr told them both Doug grabbed the side of the bedrail an Ash put her hand on top of his. Doug was watching the dr an Ash said " Doug hey look here." Doug turned his head an looked at Ash he focused on her eyes as the dr drove the quill into each finger again." still nothing at the ends" The dr said but he took the quill an hit Doug just above the top knuckle.. nothing.. he hit him between the middle knuckle and top one an there was a twitch. the dr moved down lower an there was feeling between the main an middle knuckles. " Ok it looks like the feeling loss will be temporary due to the swelling in his hand. he has 2 broken bones in the top of his hand a bad wrist sprain an probably 23 stitches in the hand an probably 12 on the arm. dont plan to use that hand for at least a month an a half." the dr said. Doug groaned" the theater show is in a month. " " We will figure it out ok" Ash said and kissed him on the the forhead. "Ok" Doug said as he laid back an held Ash's hand as they stitched him up. About an hour later they walked into the waiting room. Johnny was asleep in the chair and Ash gently shook him. " Johnny we can go now" she said He rubbed his eyes an saw Doug standing there all bandaged and taped up." Well you look a little better than when you went in" Johnny said "Yeah looks like the feeling loss may be temporary we will know in a few days. other than that almost 40 stitches total 2 broken bones an a sprain" Doug said Ash said "ok lets go" Johnny nodded an said " don't worry about Buster I'll talk to him in the morning. They both said thanks as Johnny dropped them off. " Your welcome, feel better Doug" he said as he pulled away. Ash an Doug went inside, the painkillers were starting to kick in as Doug yawned." Here lets get you in bed "Ash said as she helped him out if his shirt an pants. She went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Her eyes were red from all the crying tonight she took a washcloth and cleaned her face put on her nightshirt an climbed into bed. Doug was watching tv when Ash came out of the bathroom. She climbed in bed next to him laid her head on his shoulder put one arm behind him an the other across his chest. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Doug awoke to a shooting pain in his hand radiating into his arm. Painkillers have worn off he thought. He was going to get up to take some more when he realized Ash was still asleep on his shoulder. She had his other arm pinned at his side an it was starting to tingle so he was able to work it free an put it around her. Ash just curled up tighter on him never waking up. Doug thought, the painkillers can wait awhile longer as he laid his head back down an fell back asleep.____________________________________________________ Johnny got the the theater early an started explaining everything to Buster. The others showed up as he was explaining and were horrified at what had happened. Rosita wanted to go an see how they were doing but Johnny told her they didn't get in till early this morning an he was pretty sure they were still sleeping. Buster thought for a few minutes then told everyone to take the day off nobody was going to get anything done today with the thoughts of Ash an Doug on there minds. As Johnny was leaving he texted Mark to let them up at the campground know what was going on. He figured Ash an Doug probably just passed out when they got inside. Mark said thanks for the update an he would tell Joey an Tommy. With all that taken care of Johnny headed back home to go back to sleep himself.____________________________________________________Doug woke up a couple hours later an this time there was no waiting he needed the painkillers. He gently nudged Ash an she stirred yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Good morning sweetie" she saidDoug looked at the clock "afternoon" he laughed as it was now 2:30. Wow Ash thought we slept almost 12 hours stright. She looked over an Doug was rubbing his wrist.She got up grabbed his medicine from the table an got him a glass of water. He took his pills an in a few minutes he was feeling a little better.Doug sat up stretched an yawned Ash climbed back in bed an laid against him. Doug yawned again as he slid back down in the bed. Ash laid her head on his chest listing to his heartbeat. An they both fell asleep again. It was about 4:30 an Rosita couldn't take it anymore she had to know how they were doing. She picked up her phone an dialed Ash's number. Ash woke to her cell ringing she yawned and stretched got up to get her phone. She picked it up and saw it was Rosita calling. She yawned and answered it. "Hi Rosita" she said sleepily. "Oh Ash honey I'm sorry i didn't mean to wake you. just wanted to see how you two were doing." "it's ok" Ash told her as she was putting on coffee. " We are ok Doug is sleeping the painkillers knock him out." Ash told her. Ash heard a yawn an turned around an Doug was standing there trying to wake up. "Coffee is on an Rosita says hi" Ash saidHi" Doug said as he streached an yawned. Rosita asked if it was ok if some of them stopped by later. Ash said that was fine. Rosita picked up Meena an headed over to Ash's Doug wanted to get a shower so Ash wrapped his hand got him a towel and said she was going to wait for the others. Doug jumped into the shower and the warm water felt great. He just stood in there letting the water run over his head an back feeling himself relax. He heard the door open an Ash say "wow it's a sauna in here" she told him his clothes were on the bed an Rosita an Meena were there. He got out of the shower dried off an got dressed. He looked at himself in the mirror before heading down to the living room. You don't look to bad kid, he thought to himself. He unwrapped his hand an put a new bandage on his arm an headed downstairs. Rosita an Meena were talking to Ash when Doug walked into the room. "Hi everyone" Doug said Rosita looked up and saw the brace on Dougs hand along with the bandages on his hand and arm. She got up and gave him a hug. "how are you feeling honey?" she asked. Tired and sore, Doug said, but otherwise he felt pretty good. Meena told him she hopes he feels better and if they needed anything to just ask.He told them both thank you and the next few days will tell the tale as he looked at his hand.They all nodded and left that topic alone. They sat around for a little while drinking coffee and talking.____________________________________________________ The next day they got up and headed up to the campground.Joey an Mark were sitting at the bar watching tv when Ash an Doug walked in. Joey walked over to them an asked how they were doing. Doug said he was doing ok no real change in anything yet but hoping for the best. Joey nodded an looked at Ash an said " An how are you doing?' Ash said she was alright and was trying to stay focused on the road ahead.Joey smiled an reached out to give her a hug. When he did he said in her ear. " you're doing fine stay strong you got this" Ash said thanks an she is trying. Doug walked over to the bar an flipped the switches for the lodges sound system. went an got his laptop an flash drive.They were all just stairing at him when he turned an said. " I may not be able to play but i can still sing." The three of them just smiled as Ash went an got her case. Joey pulled out his bass an Mark was on the phone. He hung up an said Tommy will be here in 15. Mark went an got his case and they were all tuning when Tommy showed up. "Ok we are all here an ready." Ash said as she walked up an kissed Dougs nose. "What are we jamming to?" Doug thought for a minute rolling the mic in his good hand. "I don't think i can handle real hardcore yet" he said looking at his injured hand "So for now let's stay 80's." He kicked it off to a Def Leppard set of "when love an hate collide, Hysteria, an Photograph.. They were all having a great time Ash playing lead Doug singing, just rocking out the lodge. After that Doug said " Ok metal god set" They went into "painkiller followed by Touch of evil an then he went way back to Beyond the realms of death." After that set Ash noticed he was rubbing his wrist. She came over to him an asked if he wanted to take 5. She could see the frustration in his eyes but he said, yeah its probably a good idea. They all took a break an had something to eat an just relaxed. "Ok one more set" Doug said getting up an spinning the mic ib his hand. The rest got up and grabbed there instruments but Doug went over to the closet and grabbed a case out of it. Ash looked confused when Doug put the case on a table an called Ash over. " I need you to play this for the next song"Doug opened the case an there was a beautiful 12 string acoustic. Ash took the guitar an went back to the stage. "Ok a lil easier this time." Doug said as they went into " Photograph by nickleback" Ash nailed it on the acoustic an everybody was impressed. Rosita ,Meena an Johnny decided to take a ride out of town for the day. As they passed the campground they saw Dougs jeep at the lodge so they decided to stop. When they got there they heard the music playing from the lodge and hurried in to see.As they came in they saw Ash playing an acoustic guitar an it was amazing. They sat down an listned. After they were done with that song Ash put the acoustic on the stand an grabbed her electric again. They then went into a set of " 18 an life, i remember you, an in a darkened room" They all sounded incredible an when they were done Doug waived to the three as everyone put their stuff away. Doug walked over to them rubbing his wrist a little again. Rosita said ," Its great to see you up there already but please be careful honey" Doug nodded an said, "I will I'm just a lil sore"The other 3 said goodbye and Doug told them they will stop by the theater tomorrow.Doug an Ash stayed a little while longer before heading home. Doug was in bed watching tv when Ash came in and curled up next to him. "You have fun today? Doug asked."it was great" Ash said but then looked up at him an said " please promise me something" He look at her an said "anything" She gently touched his injured hand an said "Promise me you won't rush this" He could tell she was scared he was gonna push it and cause more damage. " I promise" he said and hugged her."Thank you"Ash said an leaned up an kissed him then laid back down on his shoulder and went to sleep.____________________________________________________ The next day they went to the theater to see Buster. How are my 2 rockstars doing?" he asked Doug told him he was feeling ok and that it was still a waiting game on his fingers. Ash said she was ok an hanging in there. Buster nodded and told them the corporate sponsor was informed of his injury and they agreed to push back the date 2 weeks. also he told them this show will now run Saturday and Sunday 2 weeks a month for 3 months due to ticket demand. Buster walked over an put his hands on Dougs shoulders an said, "Thank you for the promotion that night." Doug nodded an said "your welcome" Buster told them to take the rest of the week off and if they were up to it come back next Monday. They both nodded and told Buster about Mark and Tommy's offer to play for the show. Buster was excited an said he would let the others know. They walked through the theater an said hello to everyone. They went to the cafe for lunch then headed back home.___________________________________________________ When they got there Dougs hand was hurting so he took his medication an said he was gonna lay down for a bit. Ash had got out her sketch book and pencils an told Doug she was gonna work on her guitar design. She gave him a hug an kiss an told him to go rest. Doug woke up a few hours later an came out to the living room. Ash was deep in concentration on a drawing she was working on so he just leaned against the door frame and watched her for a little bit. "How is it going?" he asked as he came in an sat down beside her. She seemed excited and showed him her design. Guitar had some of the sharp points softened it was dark purple with black trim. there were two quills crossed in an X an at the top end of each looked like a tear. She said she wanted to have one quill her colors and the other his. Doug nodded an asked if he could make a suggestion. She said, of course, an Doug picked up a blood red pencil. He asked what quill was his an he turned the teardrop at the end of his quill to blood. Ash looked intrigued but slso confused. Doug said as he pointed to her tear "passion" and when he pointed his blood "rage" He smiled an said " the balance of great heavy rock" Ash sat back an looked at it for a few then nodded and smiled. "Now what about mods" She asked him. "i think we should go with the same mods as Q1" Doug said, You sound awesome on that an this will be no different. Ash just looked at him nodded an smiled. She closed the sketch book an they just lounged on the couch and listened to music for a few hours. Doug called Joey and said they had the design and mods figured for Ash's guitar. He told them he would stop by on Friday and go over it with them.____________________________________________________ Friday morning Doug awoke to a strange feeling in his hand, it felt tingley. He was able to gently move Ash off his arm without waking her an he went to the bathroom. He picked up her quill that they had been sticking him with. He took a deep breath and stuck the end of his finger a bolt of pain shot through his finger an into his arm. He was excited and again took a deep breath and stabbed his other finger. An again the pain shot through his finger an into his arm. He yelled for Ash. Ash awoke to Doug yelling for her from the bathroom. She got up an ran in there. Doug was standing there with her quill in his hand. " I can feel my fingers again" he almost screamed and ran over an hugged her. She hugged him tight an said "i knew it would come back" He looked at her they both had tears of joy in their eyes as they both went to get there phones Doug called Mark when he answered he asked if Joey was there too. Mark said, yeah whats up. Doug told him what was going on an Mark said, that's fuckin awesome man.. Doug heard him tell Joey an heard him say " fuck yeah" Ash called Rosita an asked if she at the theater. She said yeah an asked why.. Ash asked her to get everyone together an when Rosita said the were Ash told her Dougs feeling has returned. She heard Rosita scream for joy and the tell everyone else. There was yelling and cheers from everyone. They both ended there calls an hugged each other again. Ash went to put coffee on then came an got dressed as did Doug. Joey was gonna be here in about 30 min. There was a knock on the door and Ash opened it Joey was standing there. She smiled an hugged him an let him in. He came over an gave Doug a hug an said "god I'm so happy for you man" but he warned him to take it slow on the recovery. Doug nodded an said " dont worry man i already promised Ash ill take it slow" She came over kissed Doug on the nose and then pulled out her sketch book an they sat down. Joey loved the design an when Ash asked about matching the quill colors Joey told her no worries he had Dougs matched for Q1 so it wont be an issue.Ash couldn't believe she never noticed that on that guitar. "Mods?" Joey asked Doug said Q1 specs. and Joey nodded Ash was saying something about cost when Joey took off his glasses an looked at her an said."Doug has always had a cost free open account with me and my shop and now you do too, you understand?" Ash just sat there in shock but nodded. "Ok I should have this done before I come back in 5 weeks for the show." Joey said" Your coming back?" Doug asked "Oh yeah" replied Joey, also i need the sketch and a highly detailed quill from each of you. They picked what they felt were the best and gave them to Joey. He put them an the sketch in with Ash's guitar and gave them both a hug and told Doug to call him weekly for updates. Doug nodded and they watched Joey drive out of sight.____________________________________________________ They both returned to the theater the next Monday to the cheers of everyone there. Doug told Buster that he still wasn't sure if he would be ready to play by showtime but he was definitely ready to sing. Buster said either way will be fine an to just get better without rushing. The next couple of weeks went by quickly and without any incidents. Dougs hand was getting better by the day and it was looking like the brace may be off a week or 2 before the show. He had been keeping Mark and Joey updated on his progress and also asked Joey to bring the other twin neck with him. Joey said " no problem" an asked if he was letting Ash keep Q1 too. Doug told him, yeah that it was hers now. Joey said, ok thats what i needed to know The following week everyone was working on their songs when Rosita went to get a drink. She came back an saw Ash with Dougs 12 string again, playing an writing an playing again. Rosita noticed Meena was also standing there watching. Ash noticed them both and waved them in Rosita said they didn't want to bother her they were just curious on what she was working on. Ash said, no problem an noticed Johnny looking in too so she waved him in. She explained that she did a rewrite of White Lions "your all i need" They all looked confused Meena an Johnny didn't really know the song Rosita did but didn't understand ,so she explained the song was wrote from a man singing to a women so she revered the roles. I have it done if you want to hear it she told them. They all nodded and she picked up the 12 string an started to play. It was absolutely beautiful, the sound of the acoustic and the love and passion in her voice just hypnotized the 3 of them. When she finished they were speechless. Johnny an Meena told her she was awesome and left the room but Rosita stayed behind.She told Ash how happy she was for her an that she has never seen her this happy. Ash thanked her and told her she has never felt this happy an complete an if it's a dream she never wants to wake up. Rosita smiled an gave her a big hug. " Oh it's real honey" she said an walked out. The next week was Dougs doctor's appointment and Ash an him sat nervously in the waiting room. They went back the doctor removed the brace and took some x-rays. Doug was happy to be able to move his fingers even though they were stiff. The doctor came in with the results and told him the brace can stay off. Just bandage the wrist for another week and take it easy. Doug asked about playing in the show in two weeks. The doctor said as long as you feel comfortable then it should be fine. Ash looked at Doug an he had a huge smile on his face. They got up thanked the doctor and left. Doug was happy to be able to drive again as they headed out of town for awhile. They were sitting up on the big rock overlooking the town watching the sun fade away to darkness and the stars started popping in the night sky.Summer was finally here an it wasn't cold out anymore. They were just laying out there looking at the stars when Ash said. " I was thinking about something" "ok what?"Doug asked as he rolled to his side facing her.She did the same an said " you think that the design on the guitar would make a cool band logo?" Doug looked at her an asked " you wanna form a band with me?" She leaned in almost nose to nose with him and said "very much" He said "yeah it would make a great logo" an kissed her. "Now we need a name."He said Ash thought for a few minutes sat up and said "Quill Shot" Doug sat up an thought about it, she could see him running something through his head. then he said. "Yeah i think that will work, we gonna sign Tommy on as our drummer?" Ash nodded "an maybe Mark if he is interested. With that they walked back to the jeep and headed home. Doug called Mark the next day and put the offer out to him. He was honored but the campground was now his full time gig. They got ahold of Tommy and he went jumped at the offer. He also called Joey an told him about the new band. Joey was ecstatic an said as soon as they are up an running he will promote them and they have a bass player anytime they get out that way. They informed the others the next day and they were all excited for them. ____________________________________________________ Its the weekend before the big show and Joey has arrived back at lost trees. He called Doug to see if Ash an him could come up. Doug said yeah just give them a little bit. They got there about an hour later an walked in.Joey looked at them an said, looking alot better Doug as he looked at the now brace free hand." Yeah" Doug said, still a little stiff but getting better by the day. Ash gave him a hug and said " Nice to see ya again Joey" Joey told Ash, you go sit there, pointing at the big table. She did an Joey brought out a big box. "Now i hope you don't mind but i customized the case too" Joey said smiling. Ash opened the box and slid out the case. Joey had it painted in the same deep purple as her guitar and trimned in black.The latches were made of a black chrome. Ash couldn't believe how beautiful the case was as she ran her hands across it. "Well open it" Joey said She did an couldn't believe what she saw. The color was perfect a deep purple that looked like you could swim in it. The whole edge was trimmed in black and the tuning keys each alternated black an purple. The design was out if this world not only did the colors of the quills match perfectly but they even got the look of the texture of the quill in the paint. She was speechless, she went to pick it up an saw the strap. It had her name dyed into it along with Quill Shot. she put it over her head and hugged Joey. "Thank you so much" She said. "Your so welcome, but wait there is more" he said as he pulled out another box. Ash an Doug both looked confused an then Joey said " you open this one Doug" He did an saw a case done in gloss black trimmed in deep purple.. his latches were a purple chrome .He opened the case and was shocked. Same body shape as Q1 deep gloss black with deep purple trim black chrome tuning keys. The design was just as exceptional on his an his strap had his name and the band name on it too. Doug looked at Joey an said " Man you didn't have to do this" as he ran his hand across the body. "i know but i wanted to" he said an smiled. "Ok enough of this mushy stuff lets try these new toys out" Joey said opening his case an pulling out his bass. Tommy showed up 5 min later and they were all on there way to the amphitheater. They got down there and they plugged in an got ready. Doug was shaking an rubbing his wrist "You ok?" Ash asked looking a little concerned."Yeah just stiff" Doug said.."You take lead first" Ash saidDoug shook out his wrist grabbed his guitar and they were off into "kickstart my heart" 6 weeks with no playing and Doug didn't miss a beat. Ash took the lead next to "gypsy road"This went on for about an hour before Doug had to stop.He put his new guitar back in the case an closed it. Ash could see the disappointment in his eyes as he rubbed his hand and wrist. "Hey don't worry about it rockstar" she said as she hugged him. "Remember slow an steady you promised" He looked at her an smiled. "thank you" he said an kissed her nose.. They heard Joey over by the stage go "awwwwww" and Doug gave him the finger an Joey busted out laughing. Everyone got their song list to Ash an Doug and they got it to Mark, Joey, an Tommy. Everyone was all on the same page an before they knew it it was the night of the show. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The theater was crazy. Standing room only everyone was warming up an getting ready. Ash didn't see Doug with the others so she went back by the practice rooms an found him sitting in one rubbing his wrist."You ok rockstar? She asked poking her head in."Yeah just want to make it through tonight" He said looking at his hand. Ash took him by the hand an said "you will be fine, now come on let's get ready" The first weekend went off perfect. Doug had to swap out with Mark on some of the sets but he still played for each of his friends. Their ballad set together brought the theater to a stunned silence. These 2 hard rock players belting out songs full of love an emotion just left everyone speechless. ____________________________________________________That Monday Ash was checking the dates of the future shows with a list in her phone when she heard Buster behind her."Don't worry Ash i checked your casino dates an worked the shows around them." he said smiling.Ash looked at him an smiled an headed back to her practice room to work on some new songs. She was trying to have a couple new ones for each show but that was starting to get difficult so Doug offered to help. They were both working on a song when Buster an Rosita stopped an watched for a few."God it's nice to see her happy finally" Rosita said watching the 2 porcupines jam out together."Yes it is" Buster said an then walked on. Rosita looked at the koala walking up the hall."You alright Buster?" She asked Buster just nodded as he walked up the hall towards his office. ___________________________________________________It was another packed house at the casino an once Ash was finished they both decided to skip the normal afterparty an head home. Doug was lounged in the corner of the couch when Ash came out an curled up with him. He turned down the radio an looked at her."What?' She said looking at him."I just realized you never did tell me about your name" he said smirking at her.Ash sat up an looked at the floor an sighed."Ok well remember when i said my parents were well off?Doug looked at her put his hand on her shoulder an nodded."Well my full name is Ashlyn C. Pine, as in The Pines one of the richest an powerfull families in the city" She said shaking her head. " That night they handed me that check I didn't want anything from them not even the name.Doug reached out an hugged her. "Ashlyn is beautiful though" he said She looked at him an smiled" You can call me it from time to time if you want, now what about you Doug.?"He just staired out the window an sighed."Douglas R Points" He said an shrugged. "no real reason i don't use it I just like Doug really ""Well Douglas lets get in bed an watch a movie" she said getting up."Sounds good Ashlyn" He said an the both laughed an headed for bed.____________________________________________________The next few weeks went by quickly an the 2nd month of theater shows we as packed as the month before an everything went great Doug was almost able to play the whole show this time. Ash's casino show was sold out again an the owner couldn't be happier. He even said that if she was interested some of their other casinos may want her to do a show sometime. She told him she would love the opportunity but after the theater shows were finished. The owner agreed an said he would draw up a proposal she could look over. ____________________________________________________It's a week before the last set of theater shows an Doug is up early on a Saturday. He was getting dressed when Ash rolled over rubbed her eyes an yawned. "Where are you going sweetie?" she asked sleepily " Gonna help Rosita with something I'll be back in a little while you get some more sleep" he said an kissed her.She nodded an rolled over an fell back asleep. .____________________________________________________Doug remembered Rosiata talking about working on something at the theater today an he hoped she was alone. He pulled up in front of the theater an there was Rosita's minivan he parked behind it an went inside.Rosita was in her practice room working on a new dance routine for the last set of shows. She looked up an saw Doug standing there watching. She thought it was odd Ash wasn't with him. They have been inseparable for months now. She waved an motioned him in."Hi Doug honey how are you today?" Rosita asked "I'm good" Doug said as he walked in. Rosita noticed he was kinda pacing an just looking at the floor."Doug are you alright?" she asked worried"Oh yeah yeah I'm fine, I just wanted to ask your help in something." he said finally looking at her."Ok honey what do you need""Well i need your help in picking out something for Ash" "Ok what are you buying honey""Well it's a piece of jewelry" Rosita looked at him an then noticed he was looking at her left wrist an running his finger on his. " Oh my god Doug are you wanting to buy an engagement bracelet?" she squeakedHe nodded an told her he would like her help as she was like a mom to Ash. Rosita was ecstatic an hurried to change.They drove to the waterfront mall an as they were walking in he stopped her an asked."You don't think it's too soon do you? it's only been about 8 months"She looked at him. " Time doesn't matter honey you could know someone for a few weeks an be together forever or you could date for years an then fall apart. it's what is in your heart that matters"Doug smiled an nodded an they walked into the store. He decided on a light gold bracelet with a bright green emerald on one side an a bright blue sapphire on the other. An there names engraved in between the stones.Rosita asked when he was going to pop the question an he told her on stage the last show of the run. Rosita loved it a swore herself to secrecy as she left. Doug hid the box in his practice room at the theater an headed home.____________________________________________________It was the last night of the theater shows an Doug with some help of Rosita convinced Buster to rearrange Ash's an his set. His hand fully healed up he was able to play the full show without any issues. When it was their turn they started with the duet of Ozzy an Lita's "If i close my eyes forever" both of them on twin neck guitars. As the last showes the crowd loved it. Ash was up next an when she got to her last song she picked up Dougs 12 string acoustic and sat on a stool across from Doug an sang." I know that he's waiting For me to say forever I know that I sometimes Just don't know how to tell him I want to hold and kiss him Give him my love Make him believe 'Cause he doesn't know He doesn't know You're all I need beside me boy You're all I need to turn my world You're all I want inside my heart You're all I need when we're apart I know that he's always There when I need his loving I know that I've never Told him how much I love him I see his face before me I look in his eyes Wondering why He doesn't know He doesn't know You're all I need beside me boy You're all I need to turn my world You're all I want inside my heart You're all I need when we're apart Say, say that you'll be there Whenever I reach out To feel your hand in mine Stay, stay within my heart Whenever I'm alone I'll know that you are there You're all I need beside me boy You're all I need to turn my world You're all I want inside my heart You're all I need when we're apart You're all I need, etc. All that I need Is for you to believe All that I need Is you"Doug sat there in stunned amazement. He knew she was working on something special for the final show but this was beautiful. Just a subtle change in the lyrics swapped the roles of the song an he loved it as did the crowd now on their feet. Now Doug was up an he after he did his first 2 he put his guitar on the stand an Mark came out with his acoustic. Ash loojed confused as Doug has played all his songs up till now. He just smiled and sang." You know you're everything to me and I could never see The two of us apart And you know I give myself to you and no matter what you do I promise you my heartI've built my world around you and I want you to know I need you like I've never needed anyone beforeI live my life for you I wanna be by your side in everything that you do And if there's only one thing you can believe is true I live my life for youI dedicate my life to you, you know that I would die for you But our love would last forever And I will always be with you and there is nothing we can't do As long as we're togetherI just can't live without you and I want you to know I need you like I've never needed anyone beforeI live my life for you I wanna be by your side in everything that you do And if there's only one thing you can believe is true I live my life for youI've built my world around you and I want you to know I need you like I've never needed anyone beforeI live my life for you I wanna be by your side in everything that you do And if there's only one thing you can believe is true I live my life for youI live my life for youI live my life for you"As he finished the song Eddie dropped all the lights an hit the both of them with 2 spotlights. Doug walked around Ash sitting on the stool. As he came back in front of her he dropped to 1 knee an opend the box in his hand an looked up."Ashlyn will you marry me?" he askedRosita an Meena off stage looked at each other an said "Ashlyn?!?"Doug looked into Ash's blue eyes terrified as he waited for her to answer. Ash looked down at Doug in shock it took a minute for her to process what just happened, but when she did she broke into a huge smile an said"Yes Douglas i will"Again Rosita an Meena "Douglas?!?"Doug stood up and put the bracelet around Ash's left wrist an clasped it. She got up an looked into his eyes an said."I love you"He put his arms around her an said"I love you too" an kissed her.The whole theater went "Awwwwwww" an then gave a standing ovation. The whole group came out on stage to congratulate the 2 except Buster. He looked on from the side an thought to himself."Old or new you always bring out magic an happiness" as he looked at the theater. He felt hands on his shoulders an looked to see Eddie standing there looking out at the group around Ash an Doug. He sighed an said."Love is beautiful isn't it Buster."Buster looked at Eddie an gave him a hug an motioned him down to his level an kissed him. "Yes it is Eddie, yes it is" Buster said looking at him an smiling.They both looked up to the balcony to see Nana looking at them. Her confused look went to a small smile and a nod before she turned an left. An with Nana that was the biggest expression of acceptance an joy. So with that Eddie an Buster went out an joined the rest on stage. ____________________________________________________ The next day Joey stopped by Ash's to say goodbye before heading home.They thanked him for everything and to keep in touch. Joey said the same and that Doug would have to being Ash up there sometime.Doug nodded and they said there goodbyes. They went back inside and since it was still early they went back to bed.Ash was laying on his chest when she said "Ok so what's next?" Doug laughef an said."Well we will need a bass player for the band so we will have to do tryouts, the possiable extension of your casino gig, whatever Buster is planning next, songwriting, an oh yeah planning a wedding" Ash looked at him an said."So i guess we are gonna be busy huh."Doug nodded an said "Yeah but we will busy together."He looked at her she came up to him and he kissed her. She put her arms around him and said "i love you" and he said "i love you too" An they fell asleep in each others arms.

Subsets and Splits

No community queries yet

The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.