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10167620	It is This That Brings	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Aveline Vallen, Isabela (Dragon Age), Female Hawke, Varric Tethras, Anders (Dragon Age), Merrill (Dragon Age), Arishok, red/purple Hawke", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by Mytha", "chapters": "4/4", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "9,907", "Additional Tags": "frenemies to lovers, Canon Typical Violence, Angst, Canon Divergent, Drunkenness, canon typical slurs, Hurt/Comfort, character exploration", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Isabela/Aveline Vallen, background isabela/female hawke", "Series": null, "Collections": "Wintersend Exchange 2017", "Fandoms": "Dragon Age II, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - 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 }	The heat is sweltering on the coast. Outside the city, the movement of air and the absence of foul smells that accompany each heatwave in Kirkwall make it more bearable. Aveline is grateful for that at least. She is, however, melting in her leathers and armor. Her head aches.Hawke and Isabela have been insufferable. They do not seem to notice the heat as much as she does. Isabela certainly seems entirely unfazed by it.Aveline wonders at Hawke's adaptability. How does she endure it? She may not be wearing as much metal as Aveline is, but the Hawkes, after all, are as new to these summers in the Free Marches as she is.But here they are, and Aveline is melting.Hawke, of course, is slowly being teased out of her armor by the void-forsaken pirate. Aveline wonders if she would feel quite so annoyed with them if they were not so blatant about their flirting and casual trysts. They are one as bad as the other. Their silliness is grating.No, she wills her ire to abate. It is the heat that brings out her short temper. She needs to resist it. They are now her friends, aren't they?Hawke is a hard woman whose kindness is always coated in sarcasm. She knows Hawke admires her for her fighting skills, her efficiency, her strength, but she wishes she could see in Hawke more of her own desire to do what is right, create order—to change this place for the better. Hawke seems to just be in it for the adventure, the fights and the jokes—and if they help some people in the process, well, that is an added benefit that can be turned to coin. Kirkwall has not been a good influence on her.Isabela is almost the same, carefree and crude. Aveline thinks she has the woman's respect, though Maker knows she has a funny way of showing it. Aveline has been impressed with her and wanted to slap her an even amount of times.The pirate had fallen into bed with Hawke almost as soon as they had met. Isabela had extended the invitation and Hawke had been only too glad to take her up on it. In the year or so they had spent together Aveline has watched them fight and make up countless times. Yet they both were never the types to be monogamous. They got their thrills whenever the opportunity arose—and that was that.Thick as thieves. Well, they are thieves. Maker! Isabela certainly is. Aveline turns a blind eye to some of it and she does not quite understand why.She had grown so close to the Hawkes when they came to Kirkwall from Ferelden. Had lived with them for a year. Worked with them. Tried to protect them. To hold on to a sense of belonging, of family. Hawke's sister Bethany is the good soul of the family and Hawke has often taken the high road to please her in the past, but now that Bethany is with the Gray Wardens... Aveline worries. Well, now it is her job to keep Hawke on the straight and narrow. Just her luck it means she has to spend her time babysitting Kirkwall's most notorious rogues in her time off.Well, one thing to be said for them—they had her back and she had theirs. Hawke and Isabela helped her oust the criminal elements of the guard and expose the old captain for what he was but, sweet Andraste, they get on her nerves sometimes. She wishes they could just... behave!How has she landed herself in this mess again? Running errands for Hawke on one of the hottest days of the summer. She is a fool. Won over with a smile from these charming idiots. Still concerned about Hawke. She ought to know better.“I know a place,” Isabela says now, “where we might cool off a bit.”“Oh, you do, do you,sweet thing?”Maker help her, they are even talking like each other now. Well, they are whispering, sharing conspiratorial glances. Isabela's laugh rings out vibrant and clear.Aveline does not like the look of this one bit. Nor does she like it when the pirate takes the lead. Isabela is taking them along an old, narrow path that is much too overgrown for her comfort.The gorse scrapes her skin because she has taken off her gauntlets, and the sand is hot and deep, making each step a chore. She is a sweaty, itchy mess and it is entirely their fault.After a while—she has fallen behind—there is a shriek from Hawke that makes her push herself again, rushing forward as fast as she can, ready to defend.When she is finally clear of the overgrowth she sees Hawke's beaming face, sees her crowing in delight at the view. They are on a cliff. The ocean is blue and the sky uncharacteristically clear for the Wounded Coast. They are at the region's border where the influx of the open sea is noticeable. Light is reflected by the waves and hurts her eyes. The wind is strong outside of the cover of rocks and plants and the air seems clearer than it was before. Hawke is near the edge, arms outstretched, fighting the wind. Screaming. “It's a secret spot, ladies.” Isabela stands triumphant: hip cocked, skin glowing, eyes sparkling and her hair a wild cloud of tangles and curls around her head as the wind has its way with it. “Every woman ought to have one.”Aveline scoffs. As far as double entendres go, she is used to better. She tells Isabela as much.How is the pirate looking so alive in this heat? Even Hawke's short black hair is matted with sweat, but Isabela's is soft. Tendrils of it snake out on the wind to brush Aveline's face as the Isabela leans close.“I've got a trick to show you, big girl.”Aveline glares and wipes her brow. She knows her patience has run out. She is tired and hot and—why did she agree to come here? They could be well on their way back to Kirkwall.“I think you'd find a more appreciative audience for your tricks at the Rose.”Isabela just laughs and walks back towards Hawke, hips swaying. “Oh, I'm sure you'll get a kick out of this one.”As she walks she removes pieces of jewelry slowly and deliberately, tossing them to Hawke one by one who catches them with a grin on her face. “Do as we do, big girl, take all that metal off.”She is not going to do it. It would be foolish. Secret spot or not, they do not know if it is free of danger. She is not going to be caught unawares while her friends are vulnerable. Her friends are... Maker, what is the pirate doing? What is Hawke... ?“This is hardly the time!” Aveline's face is crimson.“Relax!” Hawke shouts and gives her a wink. “I am just helping her out of her boots.”Isabela catches Aveline's eye and licks her lips lasciviously. “Don't be such a prude.”Enough! She has had enough. She is going to take them back to Kirkwall, willing or not. The wind turns, blowing hot air and sand from behind. Aveline rushes over towards them. Isabela yelps, jumping to her feet, laughing in her face. Aveline is about to grab her when the pirate turns, sprints towards the edge and—dives off.Aveline's heart stops. The world is suddenly very slow and very quiet. Her blood is pounding in her ears—or is it the surf? How rough is the sea here? How deep? Surely there are rocks. Why would she? Of all the irresponsible...!She moves over to Hawke, who is peering over the edge of the cliff—face equal parts amusement and concern. Time stretches. Then there is Hawke whooping and pumping her fist in the air, yelling down to the water. She grabs Hawke's arm roughly, forcing the rogue to face her. Hawke crows with laughter.“Your face! Come on, let's get down there!”Aveline wants to be angry, but the feeling eludes her. She still feels numb with shock.“Did you think she was finally headed to Massive Head Trauma Bay?” Hawke is grinning at her, her tone taunting, mocking and Aveline is going to throttle her, anger finally resurfacing for a short moment, but is stopped by the rogue's departure down the rocks.She follows Hawke, who is leading her down over rough slabs of stone and then small steps hewn into the rock. Did smugglers make these? Did dwarves? Has Hawke been here before? She seems to know her way. Has this been an elaborate prank? Likely. Her head hurts. Maker take them both!They reach the bottom and there is a small hidden cove and a beach. Aveline feels like she is sinking into the sand. She sits. There is shade. Mercifully the cliff allows for some shelter from the sun. The rocks exude cold. She finds her water skin and drinks deeply. She takes off her boots and digs her toes into the cool sand. She sits and watches Hawke strip out of the remains of her clothes and rush into the surf, screaming as the cold water hits her. She sees Isabela swim towards her, dip and dive—then Hawke is pulled under the water. They emerge moments later laughing and clinging to each other.They are like children. Careless and cruel. There is no use in her torturing herself any longer with anger and misplaced fear.This beach seems sheltered enough. Aveline takes off her armor piece by piece, leaving them neatly besides her, and lies back in the sand, closing her eyes. The wind is not very strong down here, the place is sheltered and she only feels a cool breeze move the air, chilling the sweat on her limbs and finally bringing her sweet relief. She still hears Isabela and Hawke splashing and shouting in the surf, but she feels more centered and like herself again the longer she stays still, concentrating on just feeling her body cooling off.Her thoughts wander. She tries to feel more charitable towards Hawke. Their friendship has always been an uneasy one—but there has been a change in Hawke—since her mother was murdered. They had not been able to prevent that. They had failed. They were too late. They saw—unspeakable horrors. If only... She had reached out to Hawke, tried to comfort her, but her help was rejected. Her concerns made light of, flung back in her face. Hawke preferred to drink her sorrows away—and she sought out Isabela for... comfort. Hawke has always been selfish, yes, but now... Aveline misses the Hawke she first met: also brash and often uncaring, but—that Hawke had had empathy when it mattered. Well, that Hawke might return yet. Grief takes time. She knows this. She knows the ugly forms it can sometimes take. If Hawke has to be an ass about it she will try to suffer through it. She will not prod. She will try to be patient. She owes this to her at least. She is her friend. After a while she is dozing, not keeping track of her thoughts anymore. She opens her eyes and lets them wander over the cliffs above. There are small birds flying high above, dipping and diving in the wind—they make Aveline think of Isabela in the water. Light and free—no care in the world. Waves break in an odd repeating rhythm that is regular—and yet not.When she hears steps approaching she closes her eyes again. Someone sits down close to her, there is movement in the sand. She waits for another jibe, braces for it. But there is only silence.Aveline looks over and sees Isabela stretched out on the sand. Her white tunic sticks to her body still dripping wet. Water droplets glisten and run down her dark skin. Aveline watches the pirate's chest rise and sink with breath still quick from exertion.“Don't ever...” Aveline begins.Isabela turns to her with a smirk. “Aw, big girl, you do care!” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It had been a foolish idea. Maybe the worst idea she had ever had. Everything about this should have told her not to involve Hawke. But she always involved Hawke, didn't she? Hawke is... well, she supposes Hawke is as close a thing to family as she has these days. Like an annoying little sister. So she reached out to Hawke when she found herself needing help. She should have known that her timing was off. Hawke is still so raw. Short with her. Short with everyone. Maybe, she thinks, maybe she hoped that this would distract her friend, bring them closer again—a project for both of them. Something that did not involve murder and mayhem. A matter of the heart. A case that needed assistance from a true friend. She tried to get Hawke to, well, to help her feel out the situation with guardsman Donnic. After her friends' constant needling about her private life—or lack thereof—she had decided to look for someone suitable to pursue. Donnic is a good man. A kind man. Not bad looking. There is something about him that is just... He would be a good match. They do not speak to each other beyond what is necessary for their jobs. She is not good at getting a man's attention. Hawke and Isabela are. She cannot do with the pirate's teasing in these matters. Hawke has been more restrained there at least. So she asked Hawke—who had told her she had no time for these things. Had brushed her off. It had hurt. It surely had not helped that she had heard Hawke and Isabela laughing about her later. So much for confidence.Patience. It was a difficult time for Hawke. She would take matters into her own hands. Except in her hands it was nothing. She could not get up the nerve to approach Donnic. Eventually, she had ordered a trinket, something she could give as a gift, something that might help her say what she meant without having to say anything: a relief of copper marigolds, heavy with symbolism, not too difficult to understand—but now it sits in her desk wrapped up and hidden away. The longer it is there the more unsure she becomes of what she wants. It has been weeks and weeks and she has not gotten any closer to reaching a resolution. So she finds herself downtrodden. Doubting. Questioning. Is being Guard Captain all that her life will be? Should it be that way? Is she doing her job well? Really, there are more important things than her love life she should be focusing on. Tensions are rising in Kirkwall and for every criminal apprehended there are two more that appear, for every innocent saved there are only more that need her protection. Hawke has turned sour and callous, more withdrawn and quick to anger. Varric and Isabela make light of even the direst situation. Anders and Merril mistrust her and she is not sure she trusts Fenris, as much as their ideals sometimes align. They are not close.Sometimes she feels that Hawke's mabari is the only soul looking at her kindly. Tonight Isabela has invited her to come to the Hanged Man for a game of Wicked Grace and, Maker help her, for the first time she has agreed to come. What does she have to lose?Inside the tavern the noise is deafening. The place is crammed full and people are already well into their third round of the swill they are serving here. The smell is a revolting mix of old sweat, stale alcohol and something burnt or burning. There are musicians playing a never-ending array of repetitive up-tempo instrumentals. They all sound the same to her. She is quite sure she will be tempted to strangle at least one of them with their own instrument strings by the end of the night if her mood does not improve. And by the looks of things it is not likely to. She has spotted at least two minor crimes in progress just by glancing over to the bar where Isabela usually can be found.Some of the patrons seem sober enough to recognize the Captain of the Guard, even out of her regular armor, and quickly clear a path for her. She makes her way over to Isabela without having to arrest anyone. Isabela sees her approaching and greets her with a spark in her eye and a lascivious smile. “I have to say I'm quite glad you took your guard armor off. I've missed the sight of those arms.”Aveline scoffs. She eyes the rather large tankard Isabela is nursing. “Still pickling your insides?”“I've got to keep old age at bay somehow.” The pirate takes a large swig and then leans forward to wave over the barkeep. “Another one for my friend!”“Isabela, I don't—““Oh come on, big girl, the Hanged Man's finest may be swill, but it'll get the job done.”“And what job might that be?” Aveline folds her arms defensively, immediately wary. “You've got a larger stick up your arse than usual lately.” Isabela retorts. “This might go some way towards removing it.”Aveline bristles. “Watch it, whore.”Isabela grins and shakes her head at her.The barkeep arrives, saving them from following that line of conversation, and places a tankard in front of her. Isabela picks it up and leads them over to a table that is tucked away in a corner of the tavern. It is strange that she should feel comfortable now sitting here with the pirate, but she finds that she does. They sip their ale and she watches Isabela watch the people around them. Her friend's eyes always seem hungry, are always roaming over whoever has caught her fancy this time. She is so open with her attraction, so carefree with it. For the first time Aveline finds that she is not repulsed by it but rather is filled with—admiration? Well, Isabela would not be maudlin because she did not get a man. No, she would move on to the next. Plenty of fish in the sea. How apt for a pirate. No, that is not what she admires—but Isabela would not have hesitated, would have gone after who had caught her eye. It is unfair that that should come so easily to her. Aveline drinks deeply. She has come here to be taken away from these thoughts. That ship has sailed. She winces. She should move on. She should...“Big girl?” Isabela is looking at her, an eyebrow raised, lips quirked. “Sorry, I wasn't listening.”“There's Varric and Merril.” Isabela frowns at her half-empty tankard and laughs. “Thirsty, are we? I'll get you another.”She is gone before Aveline can object. Then Varric and Merril arrive and Aveline does not have to talk. She can just listen to their chatter while Isabela supplies them all with more drinks and a bottle or two for the table. Aveline is not overly confident in her skills at Wicked Grace, but with Merril present she is sure she won't be the one loosing the most coin this evening. Still, in the end it might be fun to watch Varric and Isabela fight it out between them. She really does enjoy watching Isabela. How much ale has she had? It doesn't matter. She feels better than she has in weeks. The Hanged Man is warm and cozy and Isabela's face is glowing in the dim light, her eyes shining as she wins another round. “You always win, Isabela. It's impressive.” Merril's eyes are wide and Aveline laughs.Isabela winks at her. “We've been over this, kitten, I cheat—but your admiration is balm for my wicked soul.”Then the coin is gone and Isabela has changed the rules. Merril has gone back to the alienage and somehow they are playing for shots of the bottle of brandy still left on the table. Also her luck seems to have changed. She has won at least two consecutive rounds. “Well done, big girl!” Isabela beams at her and pours her another shot. “To the most beautiful pirate... in the Hanged Man.” Aveline toasts, amused by her own joke. Isabela clucks her tongue. “You know, sweet thing, you may well be on your way to winning this round, too.”Varric coughs. “I think I'm out. Ladies!” He raises his mug to them, drains it and gets up to leave. “Good night!”They finish the game a short while later and Aveline has indeed won. She splits the dregs of the bottle with Isabela in celebration. She doesn't feel alone.“You're not so bad, Isabela.”“You're alright yourself.” Isabela is fuzzy on the edges. If anything that makes her more beautiful. She blends with the edges of the night and the lights of the tavern. Her eyes are beacons. Dark amber fire. Aveline blinks. “The lights... are outside and inside you.” she tells Isabela. “You are like the night...” Isabela's face swims closer, dark and golden. “Shit, big girl, I think it's time for you to go home.”Aveline is fine—and then she is not. Standing is a mistake. She did not think she was drunk while sitting down. She curses. Foolish.Isabela is laughing and pulling her. Then the pirate is way too close. “Let go of me!”“You fell on me! Shit, you are heavy!” Isabela is surprisingly strong. Somehow they make their way outside the Hanged Man and into the night. The cold air is a relief. Aveline tries to take a few steps on her own and nearly runs into a barrel.“I can't let you go home like this.” “I am not sleeping... at the Hanged Man.”“I meant—let you go home by yourself.”“I don't need your help.”“Well, I know a cozy little nook behind the ale barrels.”They are laughing—and that is the next mistake, because suddenly Aveline's stomach turns and she is violently sick. Isabela yelps and jumps away from her. “You missed my boots.” “...'s difficult to aim when you're—” Aveline begins and is cut off by another wave of nausea. She braces herself and takes a few steps to steady herself on a wall. Her head is hurting now and spinning worse than before. She moans and sinks to the ground.“Oh shit.” Isabela is at her side, hand on her shoulder.Aveline is about to protest when the the bile rises in her throat again and she is helpless and gasping between bouts of being sick, eyes stinging and sweat forming on her neck. Isabela coos and brushes the hair out of her face, untying the remnants of her ponytail and fastening it again more securely while she cannot even stop shaking and retching. Somehow Isabela guides her back to the barracks and into her own quarters without them being seen. Makes her rinse her mouth and drink some water. Helps her wash her face. Helps her out of her leathers and puts her to bed. Stays until she is asleep but is gone in the morning.Aveline is ready for the teasing to be merciless the next day.Isabela says nothing. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The day is not going well for any of them. First, there was the unfortunate matter of elven fugitives hiding with the Qunari. If that was not a tall enough order to have to deal with—when she went to ask Hawke for help in the matter she ran into Isabela, who was there petitioning Hawke with a problem of her own: A slaver called Castillon was threatening the pirate's life—wanted her to hand over a relic she lost as repayment of some old debt. Oh, that famous relic. She has, in the past, offered to help Isabela search for it. All these years, however, they have not come close to finding it—let alone looked for it, as far as she knows. Now Isabela seems to suddenly have new information on who might have it. More than that—according to the pirate the two matters are connected. Isabela's relic is of interest to the Qunari. Of course it would be. Aveline can feel a headache descending like a thundercloud.Hawke and Isabela have not been continuing their... relationship—for months now, as far as she can tell. Nobody talks to her about it and she does not ask. Not her business, she tells herself. She wants to ask—but maybe it is better that she does not know. Whatever it is might be trouble. And trouble has a habit of following Isabela around. But Aveline agrees to help, because of course she does. She is loyal. She cares about this impossible woman who has somehow become her friend. So they agree to go with Isabela.They are on their way to Lowtown, supposed to meet up with some small-time lowlife scum that Isabela supposes has the relic right now. This might have been a job for the guard—but the Viscount is still grieving his son. Aveline wants to keep this new mess involving the Qunari away from him. Wants to spare him the trouble of having to answer to a full blown investigation. Besides, the guard is causing their own problems. She sighs and grits her teeth. After what happened... dealing with the Qunari has become even more difficult.Isabela won't look her in the eye tonight—and if that doesn't bode well. She scoffs. It's going to be one of those nights. Maker help her.She cannot let herself wonder, she has to stay alert. Lowtown is deceptively quiet. A full moon is casting eerily bright light on the nightly scene. Somehow they are all tense tonight and not in the mood for banter. Aveline tries to listen for anything unusual. At their destination, large and forbidding shadows loom. Then there is a flurry of movement as they come to life.“The thief! Take back the relic!”Aveline has barely enough time to brace herself before her shield arm snaps up reflexively to block a Qunari spear aimed straight at her chest.“What is the meaning of this?!”But the Qunari are not here to talk. They are on them without hesitation and Aveline's blood starts to boil at the realization that Isabela's relic might be a bit more important than the void-forsaken pirate had let on to warrant this kind of attention from the Qunari. When the last Sten is dispatched she turns to snap at Isabela, but Hawke is there first, pushing the pirate against a wall. “The whole story, Isabela!”“Ah yes, about that. The relic belongs to the Qunari and there is a small chance they want it back. It's a book by their damned philosopher... Cousland... something. I took it from the Orlesians, but the Qunari got wind of it and pursued me. Getting my hands on the relic was easy—escaping from the Qunari, well... Then the storm happened and... you know the rest.” Isabela shrugs.Even admitting that the pirate sounds coy. Aveline could slap her. “And they can't leave without it. All of this could have been avoided!” Aveline shouts, grabbing the pirate's arm who shoots her a dirty look. Hawke is quiet behind her and somehow that is an extra worry she doesn't quite know what to do with.“Ow! What am I supposed to do? Give it back to them?” “That couldn't hurt!” ”If I don't hand it over to Castillon he will kill me! I have to give it to him or he will never be off my back!”Hawke steps forward, a calculating look in her eye. “All of this is your fault. You said... You promised... I should have known better than to trust you. Honor among thieves, ...right?” If Hawke is expecting an answer from her she is not getting one. Isabela is pouting. “Yeah, right. Why wouldn't I just hand you over to him—or to the Qunari for that matter?” Hawke spits at the pirate. A look of genuine hurt flashes over Isabela's face, but it is quick and gone in a second, replaced by mock outrage. Aveline feels helpless, watching Hawke and Isabela fight it out with looks. Their body language defensive.After a long silence Isabela groans. “Fine. I will get it for you. Satisfied?”Hawke nods slowly. Relief floods over Aveline and she remembers to breathe. She is not sure what she would have done had Isabela not relented. Would Hawke make good on such a threat? Sure, the two were not lovers anymore—and their friendship currently seemed tenuous, but surely she would not...And then there is no more time to think because they have entered the old foundry and run straight into more Qunari and... Tevinter mages?! The fight is upon them and as she charges forward Aveline notices a slight, fair haired young man out of the corner of her eye, rushing past Isabela, making a bee line for the door. “Sam!” Isabela shouts and turns to sprint after him.“Isabela!” Hawke's eyes are huge with shock. Aveline is sympathetic to the feeling as her own stomach drops and fury boils up icy hot.“She's gone. She went after it. That selfish whore! She's left us to sort out her mess!”Then the Qunari are upon them once more, making her postpone any further thoughts of Isabela for the time being and forcing her to channel her rage into her blows. _____ Hawke has said nothing. All the way to the harbor and the Qunari compound they have traveled in stony silence. Aveline has tried to bring up their situation once or twice but been shut down. She watches her friend's blood-drained face as she bites her lips, face like a thundercloud. Aveline is certain her own frown mirrors Hawke's, as does her anger. It is impossible! What are they going to do? Surely Isabela should have realized that running off like this would place the whole city in jeopardy. Would she really be so selfish? Well... clearly she would. After a while her anger fades, allows other feelings to surface. Maybe Isabela was simply too afraid? This Castillon and the Qunari were formidable foes—but they could have helped her. She would have defended her. Isabela should have asked... Sure, she blamed her, but she would not... She would not give Isabela to the Qunari. Not that. Not to such an uncertain fate. And surely Hawke had not really meant it when she said she would? Isabela must know we would not allow it. Could not allow it. Even if there was bad blood between them now.Oh sure, she would gladly throw the pirate into a cell for a time—or meter out some other punishment—but she would not... wish her dead! Though she might have the proverbial impulse to kill her.Not really kill her. Slap her. Punch her. Ugh! That selfish whore! How could she do this to the city? To them? To her?There are such things as tears of anger. Does Isabela think so little of her—think that she would let her be taken by the Qunari? Left to whatever fate—no! Maybe Hawke will be able to reason with the Qunari. If one can reason with them now. Somehow Hawke has managed to ingratiate herself with them so far. They seem to respect her. Maybe something can yet be worked out. This hope is dashed as soon as they speak to the Arishok. The atmosphere in the compound is tense and the negotiations over the elven fugitives go nowhere. Worse than nowhere. Hawke is not herself. She is only aggressive and unyielding, lost in her anger. She antagonizes wherever she can. Aveline tries to placate both parties, but fails. Then all hell breaks loose. The Qunari turn on them. Spears hail down as Aveline tries to shield both herself and Hawke from the onslaught and they flee the compound. Shit. They have to get to the keep and rally the guardsmen. When they reach Lowtown again there is a smell of burning in the air and the moonlight is augmented by flames. Distant sounds of fighting reach them—as do screams and shouts. They clear their way through small groups of Qunari and Aveline thanks the Maker when they run into Varric and Anders near the Hanged Man. “About time you two showed up.” The dwarf drawls. “You're missing all the fun.” “We have to hurry. We must get to Hightown and warn the guards. The Qunari are in Lowtown already. Maybe we can stop them from reaching the keep. We have to tell people to seek shelter there—or in the Chantry. They are the most defensible structures.”“We'll be right behind you.” Anders waves over a young man and relays the instructions. Aveline trusts him to know the right people to spread the message. _____ When they reach Hightown, her optimism fades. “I don't see any of my guards.”“Maybe they have been called to stem the fighting somewhere? Or they have rallied to defend the keep already?” Aveline wants to believe it, but it is difficult when a group of Qunari shows up with a Saarebas to rain lighting and more spears upon them. It galls her that it is not her own guards, but the templars that come to their defense now. Where are the guards? They should be here!Hawke takes the lead, conferring with both Meredith and Orsino, when they find the mage leader defending another public square. Aveline feels like a third wheel, but she does her best to support them when they storm the keep, which turns out to be already in the hands of the Qunari. The mages and templars keep the bulk of the Qunari at bay, while Hawke leads a small party into the keep. Maybe not all is lost. Maybe they can yet save...… but the Arishok is there to greet them. Throws the head of the Viscount at their feet. They are too late. They have failed. She has failed. The onlookers scream and flee in terror, some fall to their knees, some are struck down. The Qunari sneers at Hawke, who is steadfast, unmoving. Staring down the Arishok. “Prove yourself, Basra, or kneel with your brethren!” They have fought worse than the men he sends at them now. It is almost an insult.When their bodies lie at their feet Aveline looks to Hawke and then the Arishok. What now? Behind them the remaining civilians flee the room.But then there is a commotion outside and the big doors to the throne room swing open once more to reveal—Isabela, walking in—hips swaying and blood-spattered, eyes on fire and chin held high. Aveline's heart stops.“It took me a while to get back what with all the fighting everywhere. You know how it is.” The pirate nonchalantly steps over one of the fallen bodies and moves to stand with Hawke.Aveline feels faint with relief and rage. With admiration for this impossible—this irresponsible—magnificent... idiot!The pirate leans over to Hawke and hands her a large tome with a wink and a smirk. Hawke's eyes are hard, her mouth a thin line. When she speaks it is almost inaudible. “All this is your fault. But I am surprised. It's unlike you to clean up your own messes.”“This is your damned influence.” Isabela retorts with a cocky smile, then turns to aim it at Aveline as well.The Qunari stir to action. “She stole the tome of Koslun, she must return with us. She will submit to the Qun.” The Arishok declares.Aveline steps forward before she can stop herself. “Oh no, no, no. If anyone kicks her ass it's me.”“Isabela will answer to our laws, not yours.”Aveline wants to say more, but Hawke silences her with a look. She waits.Hawke takes up the negotiation with the Qunari again, but the Arishok cannot be swayed. Cannot be talked into just leaving with the tome. No, he wants Isabela to pay. Wants them all to pay.“... a duel, single combat, to the death—with the thief as the prize.” The gigantic Qunari looms over Hawke, takes down his ornate greatsword for effect and places it in front of himself. Hawke returns his stare, but then swallows and shakes her head. “No, I will not give my life for her.” The rogue turns to look at the pirate. “Sorry Isabela. I am done cleaning up your messes.”Isabela's face is impassive. Her smirk has vanished. Aveline is incredulous. This is not happening. Surely this is not happening. Hawke would not... “Challenge me, then.” Isabela shouts and walks past Hawke to stand in front of the Arishok. “You are unworthy.”Aveline cannot stop herself. “Fight me! I will stand for her.” The Arishok turns his head and she feels measured, her worth taken by a single look. “Very well, Basra.” It is decided. Adrenaline rushes through her, invigorates her. The other Qunari start to chant as Aveline and the Arishok stand to face each other. They circle. The fight begins. Aveline knows she is in for the fight of her life when the Arishok's double-tongued greatsword first makes impact with her shield. She has braced for it and yet the hit shakes her through and through. She feels like a bell being rung. She feigns a weakness on her left side and manages to swiftly dodge an attack, landing a hit on the Qunari's arm instead. He grunts in displeasure and whips around to lance her leg—but she has stepped back.She has little time to enjoy her success as he prepares to unleash the full force of his attack on her again. She doesn't fully manage to dodge a blow to her side in time and it is agony. She is breathless for an instant. She grits her teeth. Another hit she catches with her shield—her wrist and muscles burning with the impact. They dance around each other, circling and evaluating, landing hits and dodging attacks. She will have to stay patient. Manage her strength. Stay alert. Sweat pools under her armor, runs down her back, down her face, stings her eyes. She wipes at her brow—and that is a mistake because the Qunari is on her in an instant. Knocking her back with full force and near skewering her on his sword. She just manages to dodge enough to avoid the tip hitting her full on, but the side of it catches her and slams her to the ground. Leaves her winded and stars dancing in front of her eyes. She has to get up. She has to get up or she is dead. Has to get up or Isabela is dead. Or they are all dead.She rolls, dodges the greatsword yet again. This cannot be just a test of strength. She is confident in her own powers, but to defeat this mountain of a man, strength cannot be her only weapon. Her mind is racing.She digs down deep within herself. Calls to the Maker. Leaps forward through the Arishok's legs, rolls onto her back and rises up while turning her blade upwards, thrusting up with all the force she can muster, slicing through the leathers under the Arishok's groin and into the soft flesh she hopes to find there. A howl tells her she has succeeded. She jumps to her legs fully and turns, bringing up her shield to herself. Blood is gushing out of the wound on the Qunari's inner thigh. He screams and lunges at her again.Her shield is crushed to her chest, trapping her arm for an instant until she takes a step back, and out of the Qunari's way, escaping to the side as he barrels past her. Her eyes widen, incredulous at the large amount of blood that is left behind where the Arishok stood. She hopes—she cannot be distracted now. She whips around to face him again. His face is ashen, contorted, eyes wide as he watches her, clamps his hand down on the wound in his leg, trying to stem the spray of blood. His next attack is sudden and furious, driving her down and knocking her shield away from her body. Bringing the edge of it down. Her shoulder. He got her shoulder. Her arm is useless, her shield gone. He shouts in Qunlat and comes for her again, but his gait is imbalanced and he misses her completely when she lunges out of his way. She is behind a pillar, ready to step out with her sword held level, to parry, to strike.She hears more shouts and leaves her sheltered spot to sees the Arishok's leg has given out and he is down on one knee, using the greatsword for balance. The ground is covered in pools of blood and the Arishok's armor is sodden with it from the top of his legs down. His great body shudders. He looks at her. The room is silent. “You have bested me. Basra.” He lets go of his sword and it falls with bang. “Take your thief, but know that one day we shall return.”The man folds in on himself and seems to crumble, all strength drained from his body. Truly drained of life—and blood, Aveline thinks as the pool around them grows larger still.She cannot stand any longer and drops to her knees as well. She feels numb. Cold. She hears her friends' voices but they waver and swim out of focus. She looks at her hands and finds them dripping with blood.With some detachment she realizes that some of it must be her own. She sees Isabela's face, full of uncharacteristic concern, sees Hawke approach behind her. She is lifted, dragged. Someone screams. She watches Hawke examine the body of the Arishok as Isabela forces her to drink a healing potion. There are more voices now. The remaining Qunari leave and slowly citizens return, forming a circle around Hawke and the Arishok. Then there are shouts of joy and excited chatter as the room fills. Aveline spots templars and finally some of her guards. Everyone is so loud. Then the room grows darker and darker—suddenly they are all gone. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- There are voices again. They are so loud. They hurt.“Shut up.” she tells them.“Aveline?!”There is a flurry of movement. Footsteps. Someone touches her forehead and she groans. “G'... away.”“There, there. That's not a way to greet the people who have been taking care of you.” “Varric?” Aveline's throat is rough and she coughs.“Stay still.” This is Anders. “Get her some water, Isabela.”Opening her eyes is exhausting. She struggles to keep them open. “I have healed your shoulder, but you were badly hurt. It will take a while longer to get your strength back.”A potion is pressed to her lips. It is very bitter. She manages to swallow some of it.She feels herself slipping away again. This time there are dreams. She is running. Running after Isabela. She is closing in. Then Isabela is beside her. They are fast and she feels light. Then the floor drops out from under them. She starts awake with a shout. “Easy, big girl.” A cool hand is placed on her forehead. “You're still here. You're indestructible.” A soft, uneasy laugh.Aveline groans. Things come back to her. “... water?”Isabela sits beside her, holds her head up, places the waterskin on her mouth so she can drink. She only takes a few sips. She feels weak, so weak. “I am not going anywhere.” Isabela promises. “That's...new.”A true laugh this time, still quiet, but rumbling low with mirth. “That's my girl!”Aveline's heart takes solace in the sound. When she sleeps some more, she feels calmer. There are no dreams. _____ “She what?!”“Yeah, Knight Commander Meredith proclaimed it. Champion of Kirkwall. Services to the city... you know the stuff. She's taken a real shine to our Hawke, that one.” Varric scratches his neck. He seems embarrassed. “And Hawke is playing along?!” Aveline is stunned. She does not know what to make of this. What is Hawke playing at? Why would she...? Going along with such a blatant lie!“Right. Well, things were crazy there for a while and they took Hawke away. Anders and I tried to get you back the the baracks and when we got back. Hawke was out there with the crowd. We couldn't...." Isabela, shifts uncomfortably. "...and we are under orders now not to speak of, well, how things really went. Hawke even went so far as to suggest that you'd be fine with it.”“But we have your back. You want us to defend your honor, you say the word.” Varric assures her.“Right, yes. We just wanted to know what you think is best for us to do now.” “We know the title should be yours.”Anders avoids her gaze. “But our first priority was to make sure you would survive this and...” Their concern is touching. Aveline is bewildered. But... not upset. She considers.“Funny thing is. She is right.” Aveline finds. “I already have a job. I would not have wanted that title.” She knows who she is. She is the Captain of the Guard. She would not trade places with Hawke for anything. Meredith's champion? No. "She did me a favor."“I have to say I am relieved you are taking it so well.” Varric crooks a grin. “Truth be told I was not looking forward to taking on the templars so close to taking on the Qunari.” He casts her an apologetic glance, stretches, groans and arches his back. “Not as young as I used to be.”“Who is?” Aveline downs another potion Anders has prepared for her. Her stamina is returning slowly but surely. “I know I must still look... worse for wear.”“You should have seen the other guy.” Isabela quips. Everyone laughs and Aveline feels decidedly not alone anymore. _____ The next day the potions have worked wonders and Anders leaves to return to Lowtown. He has people to take care of there. Varric also takes off, he will do his bit, she is sure. Isabela leaves briefly, but returns with dinner in the form of a chicken and a bottle of red wine. Leaves the wine with her and then heads off with the chicken in search of some poor soul willing to prepare it for them. Aveline is certain of her success. The pirate has rarely left her side. Aveline is not sure what to make of it. Sometimes she has snapped at her, anger welling up at Isabela's part in the Qunari attack, but the pirate has borne it, uncharacteristically contrite. She is not sure how she should mete out punishment—or if she even wants to.She has been busy all day, feeling up to returning to her desk duties, feeling the need to know what is going on in her city. She has not officially returned to duty, is not wearing the armor. She has, however, spoken to a representative of the guard. Sent some short missives. Everyone will be busy, but they will do better knowing that she is alive and aware of what is going on. There is a lot to do. Restoring the city and helping people that have been injured or lost their homes—maybe lost loved ones—that will be their first priority. Restoring order. Keeping the peace. Helping people in need.She has also written to Hawke and Knight Commander Meredith, letting them know that she is willing to go along with their game—not in these words exactly. This is a headache she cannot deal with right now. It will need to be adressed soon, however. The woman has all but moved into the keep, stationing templars along with her guards. As if that would improve things! She closes her eyes and sighs, kneading her brows. There are entirely too many headaches for her to deal with.The door slams open and Isabela enters, as if summoned by her thoughts, carrying a basket over one arm and a steaming pot firmly grasped between thick pot holders. A somewhat bedraggled looking guard follows her, bearing glasses. Aveline steps in to relieve him off them with a nod, dismissing him. He flees the scene and she shuts the door behind him. Aveline almost feels sorry for him.“Such talented young guards you have in this place. So helpful and resourceful.” She has put the pot down on the table and produced plates and cutlery from the basket. Aveline places the wine glasses gingerly on the table. “Surely you did not find these in the barracks.”Isabela's grin tells her everything she needs to know. “They won't be missed.”“You are incorrigible.”“Oh, you love it—and is that a way to talk to the woman who has—” Isabela removes the lid of the pot with a flourish. “—provided you with a hearty and truly delicious meal this evening?” Aveline has to admit that the smell makes her mouth water. The chicken is sitting in a nest of onions and potatoes, all golden and crisp.“I have to repay my debt to you somehow.” Isabela says, uncorking the wine. “Surely this debt should be repaid with more than... a chicken.” “Don't forget the wine.” “More than a chicken and a bottle of wine, then. Half a bottle and half a chicken at that—or are you just here to watch me eat?”“Hah! Tempting—but what else did you have in mind?” Isabela winks, her voice turned low and seductive. Aveline huffs. Scowls. “I didn't...” She feels her face warm, curses her complexion that gives her blush away.It seems Isabela is feeling merciful. She ushers Aveline to her seat and serves the chicken. Aveline watches mesmerized as the chicken is taken apart with ease. Skills with daggers do seem to translate into skills with a kitchen knife. They eat—well, Aveline eats—slowly. Isabela picks at her food and relays news and gossip of the barracks to her at an alarming speed. “Have you spoken to Hawke?” Isabela stops. Swallows. Takes a gulp of wine. “No.”“You aren't... were you two not...?”Isabela shakes her head. “She's the Champion of Kirkwall now, she can pick whatever nubile young thing or strapping warrior she wants to bed. She doesn't need a washed-up pirate, who has caused her nothing but trouble.”“Will you go speak to her?”Aveline tries to meet Isabela's gaze.Isabela meets her eyes. “Will you?” It is a challenge. Isabela is frowning. “Of course you will.” She looks away."I owe it to her. I cannot fully accept what she has done, but I have to try. I have to find out what her plan is." “We're beyond that.” Isabela shakes her head. “Trust is... No, I don't think I have forgiven her and I don't think she has forgiven me quite yet. I would say we have nothing in common anymore, but I guess that would be wrong: we are both lying snakes.”“You did the right thing in the end. If you had not, we might not have been able to save Kirkwall.”“You saved Kirkwall.”Aveline throws her hands up in frustration. “That's not—you all make it sound as it was all me—singlehandedly. It was not! I could not have taken back the city by myself. Many people helped.”“You saved me, anyway.” Isabela sounds almost plaintive. Aveline doesn't know what to respond to that. “And I still say you could have. You could have just taken back the city—killed them all. You're formidable: a human-shaped battering ram!”Aveline raises her eyebrows, scoffs. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me.”Isabela holds her gaze for a moment and smirks. Then they eat in silence for a while. “So, what about you? Have you forgiven me?” Isabela quips, before taking a sip.“That should be obvious.” “Oh." Isabela pauses. "I am never quite sure with you, big girl.” Aveline tries to make words come to her. There are too many contrasting feelings rearing their ugly heads for her to make sense of them right now. She collects herself. “I will think of something you can do to make it up to the people of Kirkwall.”Isabela grimaces.Aveline, emboldened, carries on, “I can see it now: The Good Deeds of Isabela, Former Captain of The Siren, Savior of Widows and Orphans...” “You wouldn't!” Isabela's eyes widen.“I would.”Aveline relaxes when they fall back into their familiar banter. She breathes a sight of relief. She would not give this up for the world. Isabela is like an old sparring partner you know well. You feel at home in the dance, the exchange of blows. You measure your strength against each other. _____ Later, they sit by the fire in her room. Isabela seems loath to go and Aveline is loath to let her. She enjoys watching Isabela's face in the firelight. She is familiar now with her quick wit, her barbs and taunts—they have lost some of their sting—and they are usually delivered with smirks and a purr, both of which Aveline has to smile at. Her own reactions have mellowed. She bites her tongue. This impossible woman! She loves her.It. She loves it. Their—Her face falls. Where did that come from?“Everything alright, sweet thing?”“What?!” “You look like you just saw a ghost.”Aveline takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “Just... tired.” She feels her face heat up.Isabela nods, stretches. Stifles a yawn herself. She is beautiful. Cat-like. Maker take her. She is not one to lie. “I was just thinking. Do you ever wonder, Isabela—?”“—about you and I?”“No! What?” Aveline grits her teeth. "Yes."“Shit. What?” They are staring, wide-eyed. Isabela crawls over to her. Aveline's heart is beating entirely too fast. “You know I'm not good at emotional stuff,” Isabela says and kisses her forcefully, teeth tearing at her lip. She tastes of wine and heat and when the kiss ends and Aveline holds her close, feeling their hot breath mingle, she knows that she wants this—wants Isabela. She kisses her again, more slowly this time, deliberately and deeply, and hums when Isabela returns the kiss in kind. “You are,” Isabela says between kisses, “not at all bad at this.”Aveline growls. “I was married once, you know. You might see me as the ice maiden, but—”“I stand corrected.” It is difficult to only kiss. She wants to touch, she needs to—Isabela moans and then bends to kiss her neck, unfastening the strings of her shirt. They are forceful with each other. Aveline feels Isabela's muscles flex beneath her fingers, feels her own body tense and shift with the other woman's touches. She looses herself in Isabela, breathes her in, tastes her, is intoxicated with her. She is alive. They are alive. It is wonderful.Isabela's nimble fingers have found a way under her shirt. Aveline moans at the touch of warm hands on her skin, sometimes soft, sometimes rough. The pirate's fingers roam across her belly, her touch is... thrilling. Aveline leans into it, wanting more, wanting Isabela to touch all of her. Isabela chuckles, low and musical. Butterflies descend on Aveline's stomach when they kiss again. In response Aveline makes short work of her shirt, pulling it off over her head in one swift motion. Stirred on, Isabela assists with her trousers. Aveline stands in order to rid herself of them completely and also of the last of her garments. “You were right, you know.” Isabela leans back, looking up at her with appreciation. “You don't look too bad naked.” Aveline feels her blush spreading all over her skin, warmth burning in waves. Isabela licks her lips. “Now that, sweet thing, is spectacular.” Aveline holds her gaze. “Your turn.”“Nothing you haven't seen before—but you've never truly looked, have you?” Isabela disrobes as she might have expected her to. It is a show and Aveline drinks it all in, allowing herself to let her eyes linger on the other woman's strong legs, generous curves and soft hips, her shapely, large breasts and dusky-dark, dark nipples, the odd, interesting scar and her beautiful belly, rounded—but she knows this seeming softness is deceptive—Isabela is steely muscle underneath. Her golden jewelry is last. Then the pirate turns on the tips of her toes, flexing her leg muscles, smirking with a backwards glance as she lets Aveline admire her taut back and... beautiful ass. Her eyes linger. Aveline is certain she is entirely crimson now. “Like what you see?” Isabela saunters towards her. Aveline swallows. “I do.”She reaches for Isabela and she comes to her. The embrace has her heart and mind racing. Isabela is a glowing ember in her arms. Aveline holds on wondering at how their bodies fit together so well. Isabela is kissing her neck, her ears, her jaw, and she shivers when small jolts of pleasure travel down the middle of her at each new impact of her lover's mouth. It is easy to just give in to sensation.“Let me—” Isabela begins and backs them up against her table. Their exploration of each other becomes frantic again. Her teeth nip at Isabela's neck in between kisses. Then Isabela's hand is between her legs. Aveline inhales sharply, holds her breath—then leans into the touch, leans forward to capture Isabela's mouth again, kissing her deeply and hungrily. Isabela knows what she is doing. She explores and listens to Aveline's moans, taking note when they intensify. Aveline growls into the pirate's shoulder. This is incredible. She has missed... sex. Her breath is ragged, and when her lover's fingers curl deep into the heat of her, it does not take long for her to come undone. Isabela crawls onto her lap, pushing her over so Aveline is sitting on the corner of the desk. She grinds her body into Aveline, moaning, seeking purchase on her hip. Aveline pulls her up, inching further back so they are lying on the desk, ignoring the things that tumble to the ground. Isabela is kneeling over her and Aveline reaches for the center of her, pushing, flattening the palm of her hand over her lover's sex, grinding the heel of her hand against the apex. Pushes her fingers into impossibly soft, slippery heat, mimics Isabela's earlier tactics. The sounds that are her reward are fierce and obscene and shake her to the core. Isabela stays that night. They are kept awake by adrenaline and the thrill of each other. The sky outside is growing light when Aveline finally sinks into drowsy sleepiness. There is so much for her to do—but if she can be here with Isabela in her arms—maybe more unlikely things can be won as well.
10145435	One Too Many A Prophecy	{ "Archive Warning": "Major Character Death", "Category": "Other", "Characters": "Harry Potter, James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Minerva McGonagall, Sirius Black, Albus Dumbledore", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Prongsforever27", "chapters": "15/15", "completed": "2011-11-20", "published": "2008-01-21T00:00:00", "words": "11,426", "Additional Tags": "Angst, Tragedy, Mystery, Suspense", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "HPFandom", "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 }	Disclaimer: oh how one wishes to own such a story like Harry Potter, but alas I don’t so there.Prologue His eyes glittered curiously behind his half moon spectacles as Professor Trawlawney grabbed his arm. The Great Hall was empty as the leaving feast had finished half an hour go. A raspy breath escaped from the Divination teachers lips.“Sybil…….”“The boy saviour falls tomorrow,And the dark lord will reign over his death,The wizarding world who mourns in hiding will find the answer to their prayers,All shall find a clue to the awnser,All shall find a clue to the cure,The boy saviour falls tomorrow,And the dark lord will reign once more.”“Oh my……” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Author's notes: How many prophecies can be made about a seventeen year old boy before he acts to take control of his life, but what if his actions bring back the dead? AND the past. Disclaimer: I do not and will not ever own Harry Potter the credit should go to Ms J.K. Rowling not me. However I do take credit for this piece of fan fiction.Chapter one: Escape From a prophecyThe Griffindor common room was filled with chatter, as Harry, Ron and Hermione looked around at there home of seven years.“I cant believe it, I mean we’ve been here for seven years and we’ll never see it again.” Hermione spoke tearfully.“Yeah I know…Hey Dobby! What do you want?”“Master Dumbledore wishes to speak with you, Harry Potter sir. He told Dobby to come and get Harry Potter sir and take him to his office sir.”“Oh alright, see you later guys.” and he followed the house elf through the portrait hole and down the deserted hallways to the gargoyles statue.“Lemon drop. Dobby must leave Harry Potter sir, as there is work to be done in the kitchens. Goodbye Harry Potter sir!” clicking his fingers he disappeared in a thin cloud of smoke leaving Harry to ascend the stairs to the headmaster.Arriving on the landing he placed his hand on the door to knock but stopped himself when he heard voices on the other side.“ ‘The boy saviour falls tomorrow…’ Albus don’t you think that is a little bit direct. Prophecies are supposed to be like riddles not speeches of exactly what would happen.”“Yes Minerva but this was a genuine prophecy. It is slightly odd yes but the meaning is very clear, Tomorrow the fate of the world lies in Harry’s hands, and tomorrow the world will crumble with Voldemorts new reign. Professor that can only happen if Harry is dead and that is exactly what Sybil’s prophecy tells us.”“Yes, but surely there’s a way around this Dumbledore. We cant just let him die the minute he leaves Hogwarts. We cant…”Harry had heard enough, he turned away from the door and his professors voices. He jumped down the stairs three at a time and ran like a lightning bolt back to the Griffindor common room. Scrambling through the portrait hole, he pushed past those crowded in the common room in a desperate attempt to reach the dormentry before Ron and Hermione spotted him. He managed to reach the dormentry door before they even made an attempt to catch him. The door was slightly was slightly ajar by the time the two friends reached him and from behind the door the sounds of magic could be heard.Hermione glancing quickly at Ron, pushed open the wooden door to see Harry magically packing his possessions, tears streaming down his cheeks.“Harry, what’s wrong? What happened?” He turned around wiping his eyes quickly.“I’m leaving. Now. I’m not gonna wait around for Voldemort to come and kill me. If anyone asks you where I am, just say you don’t know, that I didn’t speak to you.” He minimised his trunk and pocketed it in his cloak. He opened the window and picked up his firebolt before turning back to them. “Take care of yourselves guys.” and he hopped on to his broom and flew out the window and into the night.A/N: right thats it the first two chapters are up and running and i know they are a little short but they will increase in length as the fic develops so bear with it please oh and a review would be nice:D ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Disclaimer: I do not own the fabulous work called Harry Potter, I do however own this computer so there.Chapter two: News'ATTACK!Last night a death eater attack was the focus of the ministers attention. The death eaters launched an attack on Little Whinging in Surrey. It is reported that no witches or wizards were harmed although a number of muggles were killed alongside the last of Harry Potters remaining relatives, the Dursely’s. It appears to the prophet that you know who wished to end our dear wonder boys life, although there are unconfirmed reports that he has disappeared, or worse been kidnapped. We fear for the safety young Mr Potter and wish to appeal for any information regarding his whereabouts to be reported immediately to ministry aurors.’“It’s started then.” Professor Mcgonnagal spoke anger etched into every word she said because she could not help the boy to whom she had come to love and deeply care for.“Yes, and now we can only wait and pray that he will return to us safe and sound.” The twinkle in his old eyes had diminished and in the cold light of day he looked worse than ever. He was nearing his end. They sat silently for a few minutes watching as the first years entered there rickety boats and left Hogwarts. When the final boat had disappeared they made their way into the great hall and gazed around sadly at all the empty tables and chairs that both ghosts and students sat and ate at.A fireplace burst to life in a flash of green flames. Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped out hurriedly and ran straight into Dumbledore, knocking the frail man over.“We found him sir.” He said quickly after he had helped him up.“And… How is he?”“He’s…he’s…”“He’s what?” Dumbledore asked dread filling him of Kingsley’s answer.“He’s dead sir.” He whispered.A/N: The chapters will get longer soon I promise I just needed to get this bit out of the way. Anyways please review! ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Chapter three: Here we go again-----------------------------------15 Years Later-------------------------------------------------Hidden in the safety of the order of the phoenixes headquarters, Ex-Professor Mcgonnagal sat in silence as she stared over the few remaining order members. Only two remained from Dumbledore’s time as the phoenixes leader. Remus Lupin and Rubeus Hagrid. Dumbledore had died a few weeks after Harry had, from the grief of losing his adopted grandson. Snape was tortured beyond repair by death eaters when it had been revealed that he was a spy. When they found him it would have been kinder to kill him than to put him in St mungo’s and feed him potions which hurt him even more until he finally went insane and blew up half the ward, killing nearby patients that included both Molly and Arthur Weasley, Mundungus Fletcher and Mad-eye Moody, she thought solemnly. Ron and Hermione Weasley were initiated in a vain attempt to recruit more followers after Dumbledore’s death and had got married three years later after finally admitting there true feelings. Colin Creevy and Luna Lovegood both joined ten years ago when both there families had been wiped out by a death eater attack on Brighton beach. They only escaped thanks to Hagrids protection. She glanced quickly at him seeing the scars that littered his body. He had lost his smile. Breaking free of her state she remembered why she had called them.“It would seem that our dear Sybil has decided to grace us with another prophecy. And fortunately for us Lord Voldemort has no knowledge about it.”“Well what is it then?” Ron asked impatiently.“Lets see where did I put that pensive…oh yes here it is. Listen closely.” She pointed her wand at the pensive and a life size figure of Sybil emerged.“A new terror shall awaken,Fighting for the light,His appearance shall be a myth,The dark lord shall run in fear,As the light burns a hole in his stolen darkness,A new terror shall awaken,And Voldemort will fall.”“Who is this terror?” A timid Hermione asked.“We don’t know but there is rumour going round of a cloaked figure having destroyed a death eaters home. Bellatrix Lestranges I believe. She was apparently turned inside out and burned to death, before being chopped up and left with her head stuck on her garden fence.”“Who could have that kind of power?”“Who could hate Bellatrix enough to put so much effort into killing her?”“There’s only one person who could have done that.”“But he’s dead.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Chapter Four : Dark AngelWhilst the group pondered on the latest in a long line of prophecies a doorbell sounded disturbing the silence and breaking into the orders thoughts. Unfortunately it also alerted Mrs Black who promptly started screaming at Lupin as he went to answer the door.“Hello, Remus Lupin I presume?” A cloaked man asked pushing past a bewildered Remus.“Yes I am. I’m sorry but who are you?” Remus asked regaining his senses.“You may call me Dark Angel. Now I need you to answer a question or two for me. One is this the order of the phoenix? Two is it true that another prophecy has been made concerning Lord Voldemort?”“Why do you want to know?”“Just answer the questions.” He snapped.“Yes this is the headquarters and you will have to enter the meeting to find out anything else.”“Remus, who was it?” Mcgonnagal asked seeing Remus re-enter the room.“My name is Dark Angel,” The cloaked man replied pushing past Remus past Remus before he could answer. “I would like to help you, but first I need some information.”“I’m afraid I need to know more about you before I can release anything. What is your real name?”“That piece of information is not relevant.”“Fine then where do you come from?”“That is also highly irrelevant. Listen all I need to know is the contents of the prophecy that has been recently been made. Then I will help you in anyway I can.”“How did you know about the prophecy?”“You do not need to know that.”“Fair enough you may listen to the prophecy. Hermione, if you would.”Everyone was silent as Hermione complied with Mcgonnagal’s instructions. After the newcomer had heard the prophecy a small smile could be seen from underneath is cloak.“Interesting. Very interesting. Hmmm…Thank you Ms Mcgonnagal, Miss Granger.”“Umm, that’s Weasley not granger.”“Oh sorry Mrs Weasley, I did not know. Congratulations.”“Thank you.”“Hmm, yes well I suppose your wandering as to what I can do for you. For me to help you I need five people to come with me to parkview cemetery.”“Why there?”“Because I have found something that is of great interest to you.”“What?”“I will explain when we get there. If you would please choose who is to come, so we can leave.”“I don’t know who you are, or what you are up to but for some reason I trust you. Hermione, Ron, Remus, Hagrid and myself will accompany you.”“Thank you. I have taken the liberty of making a portkey so I believe you know the requirements.”“Yes.”“Well lets go then.” They all reached out and touched the quill that was extended out to them and disappeared in a flash. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Chapter five : A Grave HappeningThe small group arrived in the centre of a very dark and poorly lit parkview cemetery right next to a grave that none of them wanted to see again.In loving memory ofLilly Potter1960-1981James Potter1960-1981Harry James Potter1980-1997May they rest in peace“Why have you brought us here?”“I have brought you here because at exactly midnight, something in this cemetery will change. Something rather peculiar.”“Like what?” Ron piped up, his voice shaking slightly under the overwhelming sadness of seeing his best friends grave.“Just wait and see. Wait and see.” He replied solemnly.They waited, holding back the tears and staring at the grave in front of them. A far away clock struck twelve. Silence. A flutter of leaves. A crunch of a twig. Darkness. A gasp. A light. The grave before them became illuminated as the lettering changed and disappeared, and all that remained on the marble grave was:Harry James Potter1980-1997May he rest in peace“What the hell!”“Grave by grave the lettering is disappearing and at the same time those on the grave are brought back to life in the place of there death. It’s an ancient curse that was placed on this earth in case of dire need. That time has come. Only witches and wizards are affected by this curse. The muggles have no knowledge of what is going on.” He explained quickly.“Then why is Harry’s name there?”“Mr Potter’s body was never found…”“Yes it was. Kingsley Shacklebolt found him.” Hermione interrupted.“It is hard to explain but as long as His name is on that gravestone he is either very much alive or his real body was never found.”“Ho…how? How did this happen?” Hermione asked tears falling freely down her pale cheeks.“I do not know but I think for now it would be safer if we were to go to Godrics Hollow and greet Mr and Mrs Potter before they wonder off somewhere. Touch this please.” and without another word they all pressed a finger to the key shaped portkey and disappeared into the night.A:N: Thank you to all of my reviewers so far! i know i promiced this chapter would be up by the end of february but there were some health issues that prevented this so i am sorry but i promice you that updates will be more frequent from now on. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Chapter Six:The moon shone brightly over the remains of Godrics Hollow. The ground as black and cold as charcoal smeared the bottom of the groups shoes as they landed in the middle of the long deserted street. Towards the left of the group lay a heap of rubble, long forgotten. They moved towards it, searching for Lilly and James. Dark Angel glanced over towards the end of the street and nodded his head slightly before casting the lumos charm and moving closer towards the group.“Where are they?” Hagrid asked, his voice breaking the silence.“They should be round here, hang in over there.!” He replied spotting a glint of something red hidden underneath what used to be a bedroom door. Hermione seeing what they were looking at ran over to it and cast a levitating charm on the door, revealing an unconscious Lilly.“She’s here, help me she’s unconscious.” Screamed Hermione. The group ran over to her, careful where they placed their feet in case they stepped on James. Reaching Hermione they looked at the young women who lay in her arms. Red hair marred by soot and mud, clung to her deathly pale face. Black robes, ripped and torn were stained with blood and barely hung on to Lilly’s minute frame.“Take her to headquarters, ask Luna to look over her whilst we search for James.” Mcgonnagal suddenly spoke up. When she had disapperated the group spread out over the ruins of the potter house. Ten minutes later they found him in a similar state to Lilly and quickly transported him to headquarters.“Minerva, Lilly is upstairs and has been cleaned up, she wont regain consciousness for a day or two. Besides malnutrition she is basically healthy.” Luna spoke seeing the group suddenly appear in the kitchen. “Where’s James?”“He’s right here.” Lupin said, carrying an unconscious James in his arms.“Okay bring him up to first floor, the door should be open. Leave him on the spare bed, I’ll be up in a minute.” Once Remus had left she turned to the others. “ What’s going on? How can they be back?”“Well maybe Dark Angel should answer that,…hang on….where is he?” Ron asked turning around and not seeing him in the room.“He’s not here. He didn’t come back with us.”“Ron you’ve got something on your back.” Hermione noted seeing a piece of parchment stuck on her husbands back. Pulling it off she read it’s contents to the group. “Till we meet again. D.A. That’s odd.”“What’s odd?” Lupin asked coming back into the room.“Why didn’t he say goodbye in person instead of just leaving a note. I wanted to ask him something.”“We all did, Hmmm, what a mystery.”----------------------------------Two days later---------------------------------------------------Grimmauld place was silent, its inhabitants were fast asleep in their beds. Lilly and James had still yet to awaken, though it was expected to be soon. A snowy owl hovered above the house looking for an entrance, finding a small upstairs window partially open it swooped towards it and fluttered inside. It entered Lilly and James’s room and dropped the letter in its beak on to the table that was full of different types of medicines. It gave a small hoot before flying back out of the window and into the distance.An hour later Hermione walked into the room to give Lilly and James their medicine. She reached the table and gasped when she saw a letter written in a vaguely familiar handwriting. Opening it she gasped when she realised that it was from Dark Angel. She read the parchment out loud.“ To the remaining order,I expect that the potters have not yet awoken from their slumber. In order to awaken them you must cast finite incantatum on their right eye they should then wake up.Regards D.A.” She frowned slightly and glanced at the two remote bodies lying on their own beds. ‘Why not?’ she thought curiously. “Finite Incantatum. Finite Incantatum.” She cast waving her wand towards the right eye of each of them. After a few moments she sighed as their was no reaction from either of them. She turned back towards the letter thinking she had read it wrong. Lilly’s hand twitched.A/N: well here you go another chapter up and running hope you enjoyed it i would just like to say a big thank you to my reviewers so far, here have a cookie, and also i put a question out to you, other than the aforementioned pairings should there be any other pairings in this story? let me know! Thanks :D ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Chapter seven: Where is my son?Hermione hearing noises above her left the room holding the letter in her left hand. She missed Lilly’s eyes fluttering open before snapping shut again because of the light.“James?” She whispered, quiet from years of disuse. “James!” She opened her eyes again and squinted them trying to adjust them to the early morning light. She propped herself up on to her elbows and looked around her. “Where am I? James!” She saw the prone figure of her husband lying across from her unmoving. She struggled to get up and out of bed but her shout had attracted attention from Hermione who was on her way back with Ron. They entered the room to find Lilly half in and half out of bed but desperately trying to reach her husband.“Lilly, could you please get back in bed this instant you are not well, you need your rest.” Hermione spoke taking control over the situation and moving to help Lilly back into bed. “Ron check James. Now Lilly stop struggling and let me help you.” Lilly was vainly trying to get herself away from Hermione but failing miserably. “Hold still. Gah…Petrificus Totalus! Now Lilly please calm down.” Hermione spoke as she pushed Lilly back to bed. “ How is he Ron?”“Still the same, I’m going to get Mcgonnagal.” He replied moving out of the room and down the stairs to find the order’s leader.“Now hold still, I am going to remove the charm. Finite.”“Where am I? Who are you? And what the hell have you done to my husband?” Lilly immediately started shouting at Hermione whilst trying to push herself out of Hermione’s tight grasp.“You are perfectly safe Miss Potter, now lay still and let Miss granger here run some tests on you.”“Professor, What’s going on?”“Relax Lilly I will explain all later but for now let us run a few tests.”“Ok then.”An hour later, Lilly was allowed out of bed, and James had finally awoken. They all sat around James’ bed whilst Mcgonnagal explained what was going on.“Lilly, James you have been dead for thirty-one years, we don’t know how but your back and you’re here to stay.” Mcgonnagal explained.“Do you know how mad that sounds?”“Yes”“And you expect us to believe this nonsense? Your mad your all raving mad”“James, I think there telling us the truth. I believe them.” Lilly said quietly staring into the eyes of her husband. “We need to believe them and move on into today’s world.”“But, this is bloody ridiculous how can you believe them.”“Because I do, James it makes sense.” Lilly told him gently.“But…but…”“James, give this a try, anyway I want to see what our son is like.” Mcgonnagal and Hermione looked at each other uneasily.“Lilly, there’s something we haven’t told you…”“Where is my son?” Lilly asked her voice dangerously low.“Well you see…” Hermione began.“WHERE IS MY SON!” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Chapter Eight: Regret“How can he be gone James how?” Lilly sobbed into her husbands chest, tears running down his cheeks as well. “He was just a baby the last time I saw him and now, now he’s dead. He should be all grown up by now. He should have a family, children of his own. He should be complaining about work and going out to parties with friends. Not this, anything but this.”Hermione stood outside tears falling gently on to the floor. Telling the Potters had been the final straw. All that she had managed to hold in over the past 15 years came tumbling out. All the pain, all the regret, all the agony. It scared her. She wished she had stopped him before he had left. Harry’s face swam into her mind as she remembered how he had left.“ Hermione glancing quickly at Ron, pushed open the wooden door to see Harry magically packing his possessions, tears streaming down his cheeks.“Harry, what’s wrong? What happened?” He turned around wiping his eyes quickly.“I’m leaving. Now. I’m not gonna wait around for Voldemort to come and kill me. If anyone asks you where I am, just say you don’t know, that I didn’t speak to you.” He minimised his trunk and pocketed it in his cloak. He opened the window and picked up his firebolt before turning back to them. “Take care of yourselves guys.” and he hopped on to his broom and flew out the window and into the night.“Ron what do you thinks happened? Why has he gone? He was fine a couple minutes ago before he left for…Ron what could Dumbledore have possibly said to him?”“I don’t know Hermione but I’m going to find out.”“Ron no he asked us not to please Ron. RON!”“Hermione? Are you alright?”“Yes Professor, I’m alright now. It was just a bit of a shock that’s all, seeing Harry’s parents alive and then hang to tell them about Harry’s disappearance and then death. I cant help but feel guilty.”“Guilty? What ever for?”“For not stopping him. For not telling somebody sooner. I cant help but feel that I caused this.”“No Hermione you did not cause this. You weren’t to know. You were simply doing what you thought was right by your friend. Don’t blame yourself. Harry would not want to see you upset.”“Professor do you think what Dark Angel said could be true? Do you think theres a chance that he could be alive?”“I do not know Hermione. I just simply do not know.”“I wish Dumbledore was still here. He would know what to do.”“Don’t we all Hermione. Don’t we all.”--Back in the graveyard--“Any news?” A greying old man asked a younger hooded male.“Yes, they are awake now and upset. They have been informed of Harry’s death. If only we could tell them the truth. It pains me to see them like this.” He answered whilst kneeling down at Harry’s grave. “I cant stand waiting.”“I know Sirius neither can I. But soon they will figure out the truth and then, and only then may we reveal ourselves to them.” The man replied to the hooded young man also known as Dark Angel. Above them sitting in a tree was a white wolf with emeralds for eyes… ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Disclaimer: This is not mine…well duhChapter Nine: Why? Where? How?Emerald eyes shone brightly as they watched through clear glass Lily and James Potter grieve. Hermione wandered in now and again but mostly left the couple to themselves not wanting to intrude. The wolf blinked. Emerald eyes turned to hazel, it’s snout became longer and its body became smaller. Wings began to appear out of the wolfs back and its legs disappeared behind feathers that were sprouting from the wolfs coat. A black phoenix arose into the sky and flew over to the window tapping it lightly. Lily stopped suddenly and turned around, her teas faded when she saw the phoenix and she hurriedly went to open the window to let it in.“I thought you’d never come, how did it happen Hannah, how?”The phoenix changed yet again into that of a tall slender looking woman. She had beady hazel eyes with a tint of emerald, long blonde hair that reached up to her waist and she was dressed entirely in black.“Lily he’s not dead, I know where he is and I can take you to him but you have to keep this a secret, no one here can know that he is alive let alone his whereabouts. You never know where there could be spies lurking in the darkest corners. So are you coming or are you just going to stand their gawking like a child James.” Hannah spoke suddenly turning to the young man who looked as though he had seen a ghost.“H…ho…Hannah I thought you were dead?” James finally managed to speak out to the newcomer.“Appearances can be deceiving James, I thought you knew that after all your supposed to be dead as well are you not? Now lets get a move on before Hermione gets back.”And with that she changed back into her phoenix form and waited for the Potters to take hold of her tail before she took off through the open window.Downstairs the order was in deep discussion over the Potters and what they should do.“How can be sure its really them, who’s to say they aren’t some sick death eaters trying to find out our secrets. I say we shouldn’t trust them.” Ron spoke loudly towards the other order members.“It’s them, I know it is. I wish I could help them but I just don’t know how to approach them. Its all such a mystery to me. So much has happened already, its like they have been gone for centuries but have been here all along. What do you think Minerva?” Remus asked the quiet old lady who was silently contemplating everyone’s opinions whilst sitting behind her desk.“We don’t let them into the order and they will grow suspicious and then they will turn against us. We let them into the order and they may try to take over or possibly feel too emotionally charged. Either way someone will lose, either way someone will get hurt. I wish Dumbledore was here, I just cant think anymore. My heads just so full with thoughts it doesn’t make sense. Why are they back and not Harry, why are they back at all? I’m not saying that I’m not glad to see them back, I just want to know why.”“Don’t we all, don’t we all.”The meeting dispersed quickly, all members deep in thought.Harry walked along the deserted corridors with doors either side of him. They have always been deserted for as long as he could remember. He remembered his old life of course, he remembered a blinding flash of green light, he remembered the Dursely’s, his friends, Dumbledore, Sirius, he remembered everything. The only thing he couldn’t remember was how to get out, he knew he had been told once before by a greying old man but he had no idea who it was. It looked like Dumbledore but was distinctly different in some way, slightly madder than Dumbledore but in a way saner as well. He wished he could remember his name. He was sure that it was key towards his escape he just couldn’t remember.Harry sometimes heard voices in the maze, it seemed that they were talking to him but to someone else at the same time. He tried to follow the voices but they disappeared as soon as he managed to get close to one. One voice was a woman’s, she regularly came into the maze usually to the left of him. He remembered blasting the green hedge once in a desperate attempt to reach her once, but the hedge closed up the moment he had put his foot through the hole. His ankles had got badly scratched when he tried to pull his foot out, and they had swollen up quite quickly as well.He wasn’t sure how long he had been in this maze. A couple of weeks perhaps, a month or so. He never went hungry though, there was always a small picnic lying about in random places, he assumed that they had been left by the lady but he could never be sure. The food wasn’t poisoned at least, not like the other food he had to put up with during his stay in captivity. The Dark Lord had taken extreme pleasure in showing Harry the newspaper articles that announced Harry’s death, before submitting him to crucio again. The Dark Lord liked tormenting Harry. Cursing Harry, hitting Harry, raping Harry; what ever suited him at the time. But his worst memory had to be when the Dark Lord had killed Dumbledore in front of him, and then banishing Dumbledore away to be found by a member of the order. He was raped and kicked, but his skin was also cut off, bit by bit till all that was left was a small bit of skin where his scar was the rest was all muscle. He was then fed a potion that re-grew his skin in a very painful way. Once he had skin again the Dark Lord ingrained the dark mark into him, it was the same as a normal dark mark but instead of pain just on the arm he felt it everywhere. Harry glanced down at his fingers, he remembered a faceless death eater tearing his nails off his fingers and toes. That was his last thought before he slipped into darkness. When he had woken he was here in this maze, only problem was he didn’t know where here was.He heard voices suddenly towards his right, it was that lady again but there were two other people as well. Their voices were familiar but he couldn’t place them. Then it hit him. Literally. A stag came hurtling out of nowhere and jumped on him before disappearing into thin air. “Mum?…Dad?” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Chapter Ten: The L.D. Headquarters“That was him! It was our son he’s alive Lily! He is alive!” James shouted at his wife before falling down to the ground. “he’s alive and he has your eyes and he looks like me…hey what happened to our house?”Lily, James and Hannah were standing in the middle of what used to be Godrics hollow. It was early afternoon and the true extent of the damage to their home was beyond clear. Burnt possessions lay strewn across the neglected site that had not been touched in the thirty-one years since it had been destroyed that fateful Halloween night. Hannah bent down and picked up the remains of a photograph that was half charred.“Here,” she said passing it to James.He looked at it and gasped, memories came flooding back. “What happened to Sirius, and Remus and Peter? Are they ok?”Lily took the photo from him, staring back at her were the smiling faces of the marauders and the one marauder heir, Harry. She looked up at Hannah, surprised that she hadn’t answered James’ question. “What now?” she asked exasperatedly.“I’m not the one who should tell you this, come with me.” she handed them a key. “3...2...1...” they looked around them to see pure white nothingness. Their lungs were pressed hard together and the air was squeezed out of them. Silence was louder than an aeroplane causing the drums to pop. Suddenly they could breathe again, the pressure was gone from their lungs and their ears had an odd ringing sound. But this was irreverent to James and Lily.“how….what….how …..what the hell!”“You did it!” shrieked Lily.“Did what?” James asked his wife confused looking between the two women curiously.“An apparation key, for those who cant apparate or who don’t know the destination well enough to apparate there.”“When?”“About three years ago when I was shadowing Professor Mcgonnagal for a day, it hit me…”“Holy shit!”“JAMES! Watch your langu…is this what I think it is?”“Yes, Welcome to the L.D. headquarters, also known as the chamber of secrets.”“Why are we here Hannah?”“simple you asked about Remus and Sirius so I thought you might want to speak to one of them about that.”“Wait you forgot peter.”“Ask him about that. Sam! SAM!”“Yeah?”“Where’s snuffles?”“Where he always is in Aberforth’s chamber”“kay, thanks! Right follow me.”“Who’s Aberforth?” Lily asked curiously.“You’ll see, Rebirth.” she spoke to a plain brick of stone wall which promptly moved aside to reveal a small office with a door at the other side of the room. In the middle was a mahogany desk with matching chairs both of which were currently occupied. One by a frail old man with a beard to long to allowed and the other by a handsome man that was just starting to turn grey.“Padfoot!”“Prongs!”“how are you, what have you been up to tell me everything. How’s moony and Wormtail? Man its so good to see you…wait what’s wrong?”Sirius’ face had considerably darkened at the mention of Wormtail’s name.“Do you remember anything about the night you died?”“Well no, not really.”“Wormtail is a death eater prongs, he betrayed your whereabouts to Voldemort and Voldemort came to Godrics Hollow, and killed you.”“How did Harry escape?” Lily spoke up, including herself in the conversation for the first time after the two best friends had greeted each other.“No one really knows, Voldemort struck him with the killing curse and consequently was vanquished, leaving Harry with only a scar on his forehead.”“It worked then.”“what did?” Sirius asked his best friends wife inquisitively.“The charm that me and James placed on Harry, a charm that would tell Harry that he was loved no matter what he did. Dumbledore told us about it along with Alice and Frank…oh my I totally forgot what happened to them are they alright, and their son…err…Neville what about him…and oh my Dumbledore is he ok?”“I am perfectly fine Mrs Potter, and may I say it is a relief to see you back.” a voice spoke from the doorway. They turned and came face to face with the old Headmaster of Hogwarts, purple attire, long beard and twinkling eyes and all.“Proffesor!” James stood abruptly upon seeing the headmaster.“I am not your headmaster anymore James so it is highly inappropriate for you to call me professor. Abe, have you explained to them what it is we do here?”“No Alb, I haven’t. Sherbet Lemon?”“Yes please, James, Lily, Sirius?”“No thank you.” “No Albus.” the potter’s replied in unison whilst Sirius gave him a look that clearly said don’t even go there.“well, before we get started I believe it would be appropriate for us to all have suitable seating arrangements. Aberforth if you will.”With a wave of his hand three extra cushioned chairs appeared next to the ones that Sirius and Aberforth were already sitting in.“Well I suppose it starts with an ancient piece of magic that was recorded thousands of years ago, before Merlin’s time, before even the start of the Muggle race. It is not known who produced it, or even why it came into being, all we know is its effects. In times of dire need, where the world is in danger of being destroyed completely dead witches and wizards shall be reborn, however only those who have been found and buried can be brought back to life, and only those who hold magical powers will be affected.”“These people,” Albus continued taking over from his brother. “would be bound together to help save the world from danger. They form the L.D. and in each time they are used they follow a lone leader.”“Which in this case is Harry.” Sirius added helpfully.“Yes, Harry is the leader chosen for this fight to save the world from not only Voldemort but from destruction. There was just one thing that wasn’t expected. No one expected Harry to disappear, and effectively die which to those who have not been brought back to life say’s that the war is over. But to us Harry is alive, he is just trapped within his mind with no escape possible.”“We are working on trying to save him, but…”“It’s not as easy as it looks. Voldemort has used another ancient curse on Harry, and in order to break this curse we would need to be in possession of Harry.”“But were not, Harry isn’t here he is still in the clutches of Voldemort.”“Right so why don’t we barge in there and take him back.”“James, think realistically the moment we barge in there we will be killed on the spot, they might even kill Harry!”“So what else can we do! Sit around here and wait for old voldy to say oh here you go you can have your saviour back. I cant just sit here uselessly knowing that my son is insane and in the hands of the person we are trying to fight against!”“I know that James but we are No use to Harry if we are dead now are we?!”“I’d rather be dead than sit around doing nothing whilst the son I never got to watch grow up is slowly killed by VOLDEMORT!”“James…” Sirius warned.“JAMES!” Lily roared at her husband standing up so she was leering over him. “YES, we never got to see Harry grow up! YES, its not right that we have to sit here whilst Harry is out there most probably dying. YES, we need to do something instead of sitting around feeling useless. BUT IN NO WAY, WHATSOEVER SHOULD WE THROW AWAY OUR LIVES AND GIVE UP. HE NEEDS US JAMES POTTER. ALIVE! AND IF YOU CANT SEE THAT THEN YOU ARE BLIND! SCHOOL IS OVER JAMES, ITS TIME TO WAKE UP AND FACE THE MUSIC! YOU CANT GO RUSHING INTO SITUATIONS ANYMORE AND EXPECT SOMEONE TO BAIL YOU OUT! HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT YOUR LIFE IS NOT WORTH LIVING FOR IF YOU CANT DO ANYTHING THE WAY YOU WANT TO! YOU PATHETIC CHILD! YOU ARE HERE FOR A REASON! TO SAVE THE WORLD! A WORLD THAT MAY I ADD HAPPENS TO CANTAIN YOUR WIFE OR DID YOU SUDDENLY FORGET ABOUT HER! HARRY NEEDS US, THOUGH WITH YOUR ATTITUDE I CANT SEE WHY HE WOULD EVER NEED YOU! THIS IS A WAR JAMES AND 90 OF THE TIME DURING WAR IS SPENT PLANNING OUR NEXT MOVE! OR IS YOUR HEAD TO THICK FOR YOU TO REALISE!”And without warning she stormed off, slamming the door behind her to go in search of Hannah who at some time had disappeared from Aberforth’s office. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Chapter eleven: LostHarry had been wondering the deserted corridors for fifteen years, three months ago he had thought he had seen his fathers animagus form but it must have been a mirage. His father was dead, or maybe he was dead and this was just a borderline between heaven and earth. Harry paused in mid-thought and sat down staring aimlessly at his hands and tracing the faint lines that had accumulated from his attempts at finding the voices. Not long after he had thought he had seen his father words had started to appear on his hands and arms. He had stuck his hand though the hedge and felt a sharp drawing pain near his wrist. He pulled his hand back and found the word “soon” edged into it, drawing blood. He had thought it odd that the blood was seeping from the wound yet it had no effect on him. Aside from the initial pain nothing effected him, he licked the wound and there was no sting, later he realised that the branches had not done this to him, the voices had. They were there in the deserted corridors with him. He had resumed his search and come up with nothing and yet every time he had put his hand through the hedges a new word came out “hang on” “be strong” “were coming” but too much time had passed.The members of the L.D crept through the halls at Riddle manor taking down the death eaters that got in their way. They were powerful, deadly and invisible their victims never saw them coming. By the time their first victims had been found the L.D were already deep within the dungeons and outside the door that they had both dreaded and wanted to find. Opening the door they took down the lone guard and walked cautiously over to the body lying on the table. Asleep at peace, eyes closed and dead to the world. Face was pale and clammy, arms were belittled with scars new and old. His body was thin and his ribs were protruding dangerously, his skin stretching unnaturally in an attempt to cover them. You could just make out the veins lining out pathways along his body. One cloaked figure stepped forward a tear slipping past his guards. His hazel eyes took in the sight of the pale boy and he reached out to trace the lightning bolt scar that graced his facial features. He pulled his hand away when he caught sight of movement from the young boy.“why was he so easy to find?” He turned and asked the leader of the party. “why wasn’t he more heavily guarded?”“I don’t know, but we better move him before we are caught. Molly, Arthur check that the coast is clear we don’t want any interruptions on our way out. James you take him.” James turned around and picked up the small man, cradling him in his arms before turning around and nodding to the other LD members. “lets go.” The group exited the cell and quickly travelled through the deserted hallways before finally reaching the main doors from which they could make their escape. Outside the manor and rushing through the apparation wards turning swiftly on one spot and landing in a dark green forest. The man in James’s arms moved violently and fell out of his strong grip writhing on the floor. His mad green eyes staring wildly at his surroundings but not really seeing. He was succumbed by a stunning spell from Dumbledore eyes wide open. Eyes showing the madness within.The Living Death realised what they had done. They had forced his mind into his body but had stopped the process short. His mind was half missing and what was there did not understand what was happening.Harry James Potter was lost to the world. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Disclaimer: I did not get Harry Potter for Christmas and therefore I do not own Harry Potter…sobsA/N: there are flashbacks in this chapter written in italics.Chapter Twelve: Answers“I have it!” Albus turned around to face his brother.“You have what?”“The answer!”“You mean?”“Yes!”“So we?”“Yes!”“Sorry to interrupt your informative conversation but what exactly do you have?” a rather annoyed Sirius asked the two brothers who were answering each others questions without asking them and leaving the rest of them trying to decipher what was being said. “the” “answer” “to what” “we have” “been trying” “to find” They answered in a Fred and George like manner confusing almost everyone in the room, except for a certain red haired witch with a flower for a name.“You mean you know how to get Harry out of Voldy’s hands and home here with us?”“YES!” The shouted together leaving the echo to leap around the room before everyone else cottoned on to what they were saying. “Well what are you waiting for!”“Tell us already!”“Well you see…”James sat forlornly at the side of the bed of his only son. A month had past since the day when Aberforth had succeeded in finding the answer to their prayers, and a week since they had managed to retrieve Harry. There had been no change in Harry’s state of mind, he simply was not there anymore the half of his mind that had been left only understood that he was in danger, fifteen years of wandering through an endless maze of corridors to suddenly be pulled out without warning had ripped his mind in two as part of him had fought to stay there. Harry had had to be sedated and immobilised the moment they reached HQ, and had not been released for fear that he would attack someone. He was kept under constant guard and his parents took turns to stay at his side. The L.D. was desperately trying to find a cure, but short of returning with Harry to Voldy’s mansion they were having little luck. There was no way to reconnect his mind, but to leave him like this, he would be better off dead. James sat up suddenly and for the first time in weeks he smiled.“TONKS!”“What, What’s wrong?” She ran in the room her wand at the ready. “huh?” She looked at James who was grinning from ear to ear. “James are you feeling alright? Did he?”“No, but I know how to get him back! Keep an eye on him, I’m going to see Dumbledore” and he ran out of the room leaving a very perturbed Tonks behind to stand in the middle of the room staring at an empty doorway.He ran straight down the narrow hallway and into the main foyer where there were several people mingling with others in deep dispute about one thing or another. He ran straight to the small hidden doorway which led to the room where several people were hiding and researching.“ALBUS! Rebirth” He ran into the room screaming Albus’s name. “ALBUS!”“Yes James?”“If a separated mind died, would it rejoin?”“Well yes because it is one entity, it would have to rejoin.”“and if Harry was to die?”“His mind would rejoin…and he would be reborn. You’ve got it James!”“Wait, James Potter are you suggesting that we kill our son!”“It’s the only way Lily. If we want Harry back we have to kill him so that he can be reborn.”“It might just work Lily. If we kill him, then his mind would rejoin and he would then be reborn. It would be like if any of us was to die again, he would be reborn.”“But we cant kill him.”“Lily we are going to have to. If we return to Voldemort’s headquarters he may very well have a trap set up for us. It may have been his plan from the start. The reason why Harry was not heavily guarded.”“Harry is in a state of limbo, he cannot move either way, his body is the only thing tying him to this world. By taking the body away from the place he is trapped in his mind should be able to return to his body.”“And how do you propose we do that exactly, Voldemort’s headquarters is heavily guarded not to mention we don’t know where it is.”“that is where you are wrong Lily.”“What you mean you DO know where it is!”“Yes…”“and you haven’t done anything about it.”“No…”“This is valuable information and you are wasting it!“Lily, calm down.”“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down Albus, don’t you dare! I asked you to take care of my baby boy and what happens YOU send him to the Dursely’s, YOU did not tell him the first prophecy when it was the one thing he needed to know to understand, YOU are the one who allowed him to run away and get captured!”“Lily, please there were reasons!”“Reasons? REASONS! WHAT REASONS COULD POSSIBLY EXPLAIN WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO MY ONLY SON! WHAT REASONS CAN YOU GIVE NOW FOR NOT ACTING ON THIS INFORMATION SOONER! MY SON IS TRAPPED IN LIMBO AND ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY IS THAT YOU KNOW WHERE HE IS BUT YOU HAVE REASONS FOR NOT ACTING UPON IT! YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN A STUPID, AROGANT OLD FOOL! IF HE DIES IT WILL BE ON YOUR HEAD! IF HE DOES YOU WILL WISH THAT YOU HAD NEVER BEEN REBORN! IF HE DIES I WILL KILL YOU AND ROAST YOUR HEAD ON A SILVER PLATTER!” finally the tirade ended and Lily broke down in tears, her husband at her side immediately to hold her whilst she cried. He looked up at Albus and for the first time saw that the twinkle in his eyes had truly disappeared, he looked broken and he was showing his true age not in wisdom but in his features frozen in time forever.“Albus?”“I’m sorry.” the old headmaster replied before walking out of the room slowly, he stopped at the door and turned back to Lily, opened his mouth but then closed it again in resignation and walked out of the room. “But how can we be certain that he will be reborn?”“The same way that we knew you would be reborn. He is needed to win the war, he is needed to finish it all. The prophecy says…”“Don’t start on prophecies again Albus. I’ve heard enough prophecies to last me a life time.”“I’m sorry Lily, but it is the only way.”“When?”“I see no reason to delay his return any longer. Does anyone else?” Silence. “Then I guess we should do it now. Lily, James would you like a moment with him, before we…”“Yes please.”“Very well then, we will be there in thirty minutes.” The couple exited the room hand in hand and headed towards their son’s chamber. The door was still open the way James had left it and Tonks was sat in the chair that he had occupied.“could you leave us please Tonks.” the auburn haired woman looked up and saw the grief etched into the couples faces and knew that she had to leave so she got up and walked over to the door intending to go find the rest of the L.D to find out what was going wrong. The two Potters stood for awhile after she left just simply hugging each other and staring at their own child.“I don’t want to James, I cant.”“We have to, but it wont be for long and when he comes back we can get to know him.” Lily moved to the side of Harrys bed and placed her hand over his immobile one.“I’m sorry baby, we will see you soon but you are going to have to go away for a while, we don’t know how long for but we love you even though we never got to see you grow up. We love you.”“Yes and when this is all over and done with we will get to know each other and we can play Quidditch, Padfoot says your really good. Must take after me.”“Oh James this is hardly the time nor place.”“Yes it is, I’m giving him something to look forward to, something to make sure he comes back to us.”There was a knock on the door and Albus entered along with the others who had come with them to retrieve Harry for Voldemorts clutches.“Is it time?”“Yes.”“Very well then, Lily come here.” James took Lily to the other side and held her tightly, neither of them taking their eyes off Harry. Albus sighed and raised his wand and uttered two of the most unforgivable words in existence.“Avada Kedavra” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Disclaimer: do not own...end ofA/N: i am updating twice in one night purely because i forgot i wanted to say something right here, so here it is. I have absolutely no choice whatsoever but to dedicate this chapter and the rest of the story to the most dedicated reviewer ever to have reviewed my stories. I hereby deicate One Too Many a Prophecy to Elphaba! Thank you for really making my time writing really enjoyable and actually motivating me to write even when i am so tired i can barely open my eyes. You are the best! So thank you!Chapter Thirteen: The Green LightThe deserted corridors of his mind swam and disappeared amidst a flame of bright, emerald green light. His breath was stopped and he was suffocating under an ocean of green, with no escape. Memories of his friends swam before him and he remembered every second of his life from seeing his mothers face as she held him, to his father holding him as he flew mere inches off the ground on a toy Cleansweep bought for his first christmas, Sirius and Remus playing hide and seek with Harry as they avoided the wrath of Lily who currently wanted their heads on a golden platter for dying her hair bubblegum pink. He relived Dudleys torment and Vernons and Petunias comments and orders. He cried at his memories of Hogwarts up until the night where he heard the prophecy that eventually led to his incarceration within his mind. He saw the torture and felt the pain as Voldemort tortured him repeatedly for being the boy who lived. His world started to fade to black as the green mist invaded his senses and suffocated him to death. And the green light dissolved to nothing leaving emptiness and a void. He was whole for the first time in a week, he was together with every aspect of his mind that had been brutally torn apart. He was at peace.--As the light faded the members looked on to the body forlornly, hoping that there plan had worked and that they had not just doomed the entire world on a stupid ill thought out whim.“We should bury him.” Albus suggested, easing the silence that had overcome the room, “give him the respect that he deserves with a quiet, private funeral.”“Where?” Sirius asked, tears streaking down his face as he stared at his godsons lifeless, unmoving body.“At his original grave, where he was supposed to have been buried.” James spoke up finally as his wife sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder.--You have to go backI don’t want toYou have to go backWhyBecause you have toThat’s not an answerYes it isNo it isn’tYes it isWho are you anywayYour conscienceOh go awayNoYesNoI have to go back don’t IYesDamnLanguageSorryNow that your going back I’m going I have to tell you a few thingsLike whatHow to win the warWhat HowBy listening to meOkRight now listenI am listeningShut upSorryNow in order to win you need to maintain the element of surpriseHowBy keeping yourself apart from those who may manipulate you In order to win you will have to let the war be fought from three frontsThree frontsYes it will be you the Order and the LD but neither of the other two must know that you are there When you wake up I will still be with you to guide your actionsWhere will I wake upYou will see soon enoughOk when do we goRight now--James carried the body of his dead son that now lay cold in his arms as rigor mortis began to sink in. He carried the body to the grave where his son should have laid when he was declared dead fifteen years ago. Placing his son gently on the cold ground he softly kissed his forehead and climbed back out of the grave. Albus spelled the soil back on top of Harry, replacing it to look like it had been untouched. Nearby a church’s bell struck twelve and a flock of crows flew off into the night. Albus sighed and prayed that the plan would work, not knowing that the plan was already in motion.--Harry awoke to pitch blackness, unable to see any of his surroundings but able to hear the movements of others in the room next door.Stay silent to talk to me just thinkWhere are weYour in...A/N: mwa ha ha ha ha, i shall leave it there, review if you dare... ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Chapter Fourteen: SorceryThe air around him was stale, cold and damp. It was pitch black, no light just darkness with no end in sight. His body felt tight, heavy and unused. With some difficulty he lifted his right hand and pushed as far in front of him as he could, and was stopped mere inches away from his face. Panic forced his breathing to become laboured as he moved his hand across the silk material that obstructed his every move. He pressed the silk forward to find his hand obstructed again as it met with a hard surface. All four sides were the same and it was with a sinking heart that he pressed his hand to the area above his head to find more of the same and his feet to the base. Unable to see he grew more panicked and began to hyperventilate.RELAX before you give yourself a heart attack"WHAT DO YOU MEAN RELAX! I'M STUCK IN SOME KIND OF LINED BOX UNABLE TO SEE AND MOVE AND YOU TELL ME TO RELAX!"Your not in a box"THEN WHERE THE HELL AM I?"In your coffin actually"WHAT! AND THAT IS SUPPOSED TO CALM ME DOWN!"No its supposed to make you realise how dangerous the situation you are in is…no before you interrupt if you don't quiet down soon then LD will hear you and then you will be manipulated again and the war will NEVER be won so for now SHUT UP!Ok ok ok ok theres no need to shout your not the one trapped in a coffin!Thank you, now the LD are above you right now and you don't have long before they plan to dig you up again to see if you have woken up you need to duplicate yourself and then apparate yourself out before that happensRight one question HOW? I havn't got a wand and I was never taught to do wandless magicThe wand is just another way for the government to manipulate youHUH?Wands were invented by the English government in the 14th century when the British empire expanded the wizarding empire expanded and with it the use of the wand instead of wandless magic which was previously known as sorcery The plugged it as making your magic more powerful however in reality it made your magic weaker and gave the government the opportunity to control what magic you used as well as your powerSo what are you telling me that I can do wandless magicYesAre you high?No I mean it you can do wandless magic, everyone can from a very young age theres no such thing as accidental magic its simply wandless magic anyways back to the point you need to duplicate yourself and apparate out in less than two minutesOk how do I do that?Like this say 'Geminio' and think really hard about yourself being replicatedWhy does it sound like you are trying to make me look stupid?I don't know but may I just point out NO ONE CAN SEE YOU you cant even see youOh right…ok Geminio…did it work?Move your arm and find outHarry lifted his arm and felt the space underneath him, an arm, a cold heavy arm.It workedYes it did, now hurry and apparate yourself out you only have about 30 seconds before they find youWhere do I go?You need to get yourself out of London, there is a potter home in Dorset transport yourself to WeymouthOk…Weymouth, Weymouth, Weymouth, WeymouthThe sound of a seagull and crashing of small waves met his ears, he opened his eyes and glanced around him. Although it was the middle of the night the sea front was lit up with lights and music. He was standing on the beach the soft, cool sand underneath his feet as he looked up at a building clearly labelled Tourist Information.Right I'm here now where do I go?Look to your right and follow the lights down till they dissapear, do you see?YesGood now keep looking right until you see a small mass of light like the ones you just followed, you need to get thereWhy not just tell me the name?Because I forget what it is called, imagine yourself clearly over there nowDeliberating clearly on the small mass of lights Harry closed his eyes tightly and surprised himself when he landed heavily on heap of rocks.OuchOh sorry I forgot to tell you to imagine landing on the sand, there are these big rocks you seeYou think?Any way you need to get up to the pavement there should be a ramp around here somewhere…ah over there look for the railingI see it hang onHarry clambered down the rocks landing on the sand cradling his left arm. There were others on the beach completely oblivious to his sudden appearance landing on the rocks right in front of them. He reached the railing and used it to pull himself up the ramp, his legs were tired and heavy from lack of use and his remaining energy was waning fast from successive apparations and wandless magic.How much further?Not long now when you get on to the road you'll need to turn right and walk up the pathCant I just apparate?No, your energy is failing you and I cant risk you falling unconscious before you reach the destination.That's going to happen anyway at this ratePlease Harry just keep going then you can have a nice long sleep to get your energy levels back upWhere is this place?It's on your right you should see it in a minuteHarry brushed passed a low lying branch and looked to his right to see a small stretch of red brick houses.What here?No look beyond themWhat you mean that big white building?YesBut…but…but that's a hotel!Yes it is your home is hidden in one of the roomsAre you sure you are not high?Positive now quickly lets get you inside before you collapseWho died and made you boss?You, now move!Harry walked forward cursing the voice in his head, he kept going up the hill ignoring the sound of crickets in nearby bushes, ignoring the darkness of the path he walked up, focussing on the burning pain and tiredness of his legs. He reached the intersection where he entered the land where the hotel sat. He urged himself passed the lit up sign declaring that the building in front of him was the Riviera Hotel. He pushed himself through the doors and entered the brightly lit reception. A young woman behind the desk looked up in surprise and stood up placing her magazine underneath the desk hurridly."May I help you sir?"Now what?Ask for the key to room 116"May I have the key to Room 116 please."A look of surprise adorned her face and she looked to the draw hidden behind the managers door."And your name sir?"Tell the truth when you get the key you can obliviate her"Potter""Please wait a moment, sir."The young woman gracefully opened a draw of a table next to a brown door, taking out a bunch of keys Harry presumed opened the door she stood next to. It did, and she went inside returning with a small black box that was very dusty."Here you go sir, your key we believe is inside but we have no way of opening it to find out. Your room is up the stairs behind the reception and the uppermost level, however as we have had no way of accessing the room we have been unable to clean it, would you like us to arrange a different room for you to stay the night in until we clean it for you tomorrow?""No thank this will be fine. Goodnight""Goodnight."Growing more visibly tired by the minute Harry walked around the reception and saw the stairs the young lady had described, and he headed towards them. The stairway was tall and in the shape of a spiral, and by the first floor the world was swimming and getting darker by the minute.Come on Harry just a little bit further and then you can pass out but you need to get to your room first!So…so tired…Come on just one more floor, one foot in front of the other…One foot…one foot in front…in fornt of the…the other…Harry slowly dragged his energy less body up the stairs to the next floor. When he finally reached the landing his world had turned black at the edges.Listen to me Harry, you need to open the box Wha…Open the black box and prick your finger on the spike that appearsHarry lifted the lid of the box and saw an old key lying untouched amidst a collection of dust. An enchantment of sorts surrounded and protected it and Harry obediently pricked his finger on the spike, watching as a drop of blood fell from the wound and landed on the enchantment. It glowed for a few seconds before disappearing and allowing Harry to get the key. He turned to face the door of room 116 and slowly pushed the key through the lock and turned it. The door opened smoothly and Harry managed to get a glimpse of gold and green before he passed out on the floor of the landing. Unable to go one step further.Oh crap.A/N: Sorry for how long it took to get this out but I hope the length made up for it? Please review! Next chapter is when the fun begins! (I have been waiting forever to get to this point)
10139393	Welcome Home	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Minxie", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2006-12-04T00:00:00", "words": "2,667", "Additional Tags": "Explicit Language, Romance", "Relationship": "Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "HPFandom", "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 }	Disclaimer: Not mine…I’m just using them for Christmas. smirkWarnings: Mentions of past MPregNotes: Beta is no other than Jadzia. **I was harsh on Vegas here. It was from Draco’s POV and I think that for him it was very in character. That said- I love Vegas. Prolly because I’m one of the people he describes as he sees the Strip for the very first time. smirk* So please, no one get your knickers in a bunch…’kay?*** Welcome Home Draco looked at the brochure again. Cocking a brow, he looked at Hermione and asked, “Why am I looking at this, Granger?”“Because,” she started again, the exasperation shining through in her tone, “there was a report from a touring wizard. There is a man in that show that might be Harry. The informant said that he believes the man is using Parseltongue.”“And you mean to tell me that this wizard, who recognizes Parseltongue,” the disbelief was ringing through Draco’s voice, “can’t tell you if it is Potter on the stage?” They’d been looking for Harry since the final battle. He’d struck the lethal blow, driving Gryffindor’s sword through the snake bastard, and then Apparated dead away. Draco, more then even Ron and Hermione, had a bone to pick with the black haired man. Namely a seven year-old son named Tristan.“The man never steps out of the shadows, Draco. We’re going to,” Hermione braced herself for the explosion, “have to go to this Las Vegas and check it out for ourselves.”Draco snorted, not exactly the response Hermione expected. “No,” he said, outright laughing at the suggestion. “I will not be leaving my son to go traipsing across the world searching for the Boy Who Left Me. You can go; take Weasley. Take all the Weasleys for all I care. You find out if dear Potter is there and then I’ll think about it.”“Draco, really,” Hermione begged, “Harry never used Parseltongue around us, not after that fiasco during second year. You’re going to have to go.”“He. Left. Me,” Draco said with a glare. “I will not run behind him now, Granger. He left me pregnant and alone in a world that had to be rebuilt. I want to see him again, to tell him what he’s missed and show him what he threw away. But I will do it here, on my terms.”Hermione stepped closer to Draco and laid a tentative hand on his arm. “He may have had a reason, Draco. The fact that you conceived at all proves he loved you just as much as you loved him. Can’t you at least hear him out?”Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Honestly, could the witch not take a hint? Draco knew Harry had loved him, just as he knew he still loved the green-eyed man that had broken his heart. But what if Harry had moved on, found love with someone else? Draco couldn’t chance getting his heart broken again. “Not there, Granger. If, I repeat if you convince me to attend this ridiculous Muggle theatre, I will leave as soon as I confirm or deny Potter’s participation.” Draco moved to the door, “Are we clear?”Hermione nodded, knowing she had gotten all she could from Draco Malfoy. “We need to know tomorrow, Draco.”With a curt jerk of his head, the blond Apparated home, planning on nursing his memories with the finest scotch in all of Malfoy manor. Draco Malfoy sneered and took another look around the absolute dirtiest place he’d ever been. Las Vegas. More specifically, The Strip. It was an over decorated street filled with Muggles of the worst sort, nothing but groups of hedonistic people drinking and smoking and gambling their money away.“Potter has been living here?” Draco could not believe that. Harry always spoke of wanting a nice home with a picket fence, maybe a pet or two. Never had Harry been drawn to this type of place. If not for the fact that he was sure Harry Potter would relish the obvious ability to get lost in such a crowd of Muggles, Draco would have returned to England immediately. He held up his hand to cut off Hermione’s rebuttal, “Never mind, Granger. I don’t want to discuss it.”Looking from the brochure to the street signs, Draco said, “Lead the way. I’d rather get this over and done with, my son is waiting for me.”Hermione turned to her right and started walking. “Here we are,” she said, gesturing to yet another huge monstrosity.Draco stood open mouthed and stared at the Muggles riding some dangerous looking contraption that moved around the outside of the building. “What the fuck is that?”Hermione chuckled softly; the blond very rarely let his guard down this much. “It’s a roller coaster, Draco. A form of entertainment.”“Muggles think that is fun?” His opinion of Muggles, admittedly low to begin with, was dropping at a frightening rate. Almost as fast as that open topped train speeding along the metal rails. “Perhaps you were right, Granger. Something has definitely got to be wrong with Potter; why else would he live like this?”Hermione couldn’t argue the charge. This place was loud and full of people, something that Harry had never found appealing. Not to mention there was no wizarding district nearby. Harry would have to travel almost six hundred miles into San Francisco, California to reach a shopping area like Diagon Alley. “Come on,” she said, leading Draco into the building. “The Zumanity box office is through here.”“Box office? I did not,” he started, “agree to purchase what is sure to be outrageously expensive tickets for a show titled ‘Zumanity’.” Draco’s eyes darted all over the inside of the casino hotel. “I’m in no doubt that if it is in this town it is sure to be as gauche as the name implies.”“Really, Draco,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes, “must you natter on about everything today? We’re going to the box office, not to buy tickets, but to see when the next showing is. Honestly. We wouldn’t have needed the invisibility cloaks if we were purchasing tickets, now would we?”Ignoring the jibe, he turned to the marquee and groaned. “There’s still hours before the next showing,” Draco whined. “How long am I going to be trapped in this forsaken place?”“It’s not that bad,” Hermione replied, eyeing the nearest gaming table with a calculating look. “I’m sure we can find something to pass the time.”Draco groaned again. He’d known this trip was a bad idea. Hermione eased under the velvet rope and met Draco at the theatre doors. “Remember, Draco, it’ll be dark in here. We’ll need to be as close to the stage as possible.”Draco scowled, the menacing look hidden by the shimmering cloak. “I know that, Granger. Once I tell you if it’s Potter or not, I’m leaving. Stay if you must, but do not look for me at the conclusion of this… this debauchery.”“I know, Draco.” Hermione thought once more about telling Draco the truth, admitting to knowing that Harry was indeed here, hiding out because of Severus Snape’s last grand betrayal to them both. Again, just as she had done every other time the desire to tell had hit her, she ignored it and followed through with the plan. It had taken them years to find Harry, then for him to accept her and Ron back into his life, no matter how infrequently they actually saw each other. She wouldn’t have Draco rabbiting away, scared and angry, before he saw Harry again. “I’ve already paid for a room here in case it is Harry. Ron knows that, he’s not expecting me until late tomorrow.”Creeping along the wall’s edge, Draco listened to snippets of the passing conversations. It took but a few of them for the blond to realize that Zumanity seemed to be a bit on the risqué side. “…all of the scenes are very erotic. This show never fails…” Definitely risqué, Draco thought. An aggravated hiss reached Hermione’s ears. “What type of program is this, Granger?” “It’s billed,” she replied in a whisper, “as an adult performance.”Shaking his head, wondering just what he’d done to deserve this fate, Draco moved forward again. “…we had the hardest time finding a sitter…” Well. That was something Draco could sympathize with. “…our tickets were ordered months ago. You couldn’t imagine just how dreadful the seats were when we waited until the last minute…” As if, Draco thought, there are any good seats in this cramped room. “…and the scene when the guy has that snake…” Draco ground to a halt, Hermione very nearly knocking them both to the ground as she plowed into him from behind. Draco leaned in and whispered, “Do not make a sound, Granger. Just listen.” “…you’d almost think he was talking to it. And, I’m not into reptiles or anything…” Draco snorted. Looking at the heavy make-up and completely inappropriate clothes, he figured reptiles were about the only thing the little tramp wouldn’t entertain. “…but he sounds so sad, almost like he’s hurting, or something. If I was ever lucky enough to get him into my bed, he’d wouldn’t…” Hermione followed instinct and reached a hand out, grasping for where she last knew Draco to be. Her fingers skirted along his wrist, wand raised and at the ready. “Draco Malfoy,” she quietly commanded, “you can not hex the Muggles.” Inside she did a little jump of joy; Draco was definitely still in love with Harry. There was hope yet to get her best friend home, for little Tristan have both of his fathers in his life. “Hurry up. We need to be closer.”The lights around the auditorium lowered just as the two magical folk made their way to the first row of seating. It took only the first sequence of the show before Draco had formed yet another opinion on Muggles; they were the randiest lot of people he’d ever seen. Did they have no sense of propriety? Draco watched with wide eyes as the stories bled from into another, the performers accomplishing some feats that Draco thought impossible without the use of magic. Then, as the stage faded to black while members of the cast spun high above the stage on near invisible wires, a spotlight shone as Harry’s voice filled the hall.“Circe,” Draco whispered, moving automatically towards the silhouette gracefully moving across the floor. Impeded, Draco could do no more than get lost in the voice he’d spent years dreaming about. The screen blocking the dancing figure moved and for just a split second, grey eyes locked on to green. “Harry.” On the verge of collapsing, Draco turned and fled the suddenly stifling chamber. “Dear fucking Merlin, he saw me.” The blond knew the moment Harry had recognized him, invisibility cloak or not. The slight widening of his eyes, the almost jerky turn of his body, all telling signs that Harry had seen Draco, standing as close as he could get, lusting after him once again. Draco had to get out of here, had to get home, back to Tristan, back to his memories.He moved through the crowd, safely hidden still, and made his way back to the seedy alley they had Apparated into. Removing the cloak, drawing in great gasps of the cool night air, Draco took one look back; seeing Hermione and Harry running towards him he nodded to them both and disappeared with a loud crack.“Damn it,” Harry screamed as the ringing sound faded. “What the fuck were you thinking, Hermione?” Hermione left a fuming Harry Potter sitting in Draco’s office. Pictures of Tristan littered the walls and shelves; if Harry was still half as curious as his younger self, he’d focus in on the little boy, his features very obviously a blend of Potter and Malfoy, long before Draco was due to report for work. Hermione could only hope that Harry either knew enough about wizard pregnancy to understand the implication or had enough sense to ask.Thinking about her options again, she muttered, “I hope he knows already. He’s too bloody stubborn to ask.”Harry sat and pouted… for all of five minutes before he started looking around the room. The Malfoy that was staring at the stage last night didn’t look like a man who had simply used Harry to survive the war. He looked like the Draco that Harry had held just hours before the final battle, making love and sharing dreams for their future. “He’s using you, Potter. Do you really think someone of Draco’s stature would ever be happy with the likes of you? If not for the Boy Who Lived moniker you’d be nothing but a half-blood with extremely poor taste in fashion and friends. Draco is a Slytherin, boy, not a do-gooder Gryffindor.” Severus Snape sneered at Harry; both were dripping with sweat and blood, robes singed and wands drawn toward one another. “You have served your purpose now. My Lord will soon be dead, Draco will out of your life before the body is burned.” “Maybe so, Snape,” Harry retorted, locking away all of the hurt the words caused, “but you should be less worried about Malfoy and more concerned for your own sorry hide.” With a steady hand, Harry snarled once more then screamed, “Avada Kedavra.” He let one tear fall as he headed towards Voldemort, vowing against everything that he would leave the instant the battle was over.” “Damn it, Malfoy,” he growled as he paced the room. “What are you playing at?” Eyes finally taking in his surroundings, Harry cocked his head to the side. Pictures lined the shelves. All of them featured the same person - a miniature version of Draco. All of the framed pictures had the same little boy in them. Some were of the child and Draco, some had Hermione and Ron, some even had other Weasleys playing with the boy. None, however, had anyone that could be the boy’s mother in them.Harry looked harder at the child. The hair was indeed the familiar Malfoy blond but, as the boy grew older, the hair grew more wayward. And it was true that his eyes were the same slate grey as Malfoy’s but they sparked and glinted with an air of mischievousness that Draco’s had never possessed. The boy’s face was fuller, more rounded than pointy. “Oh my God…” The door creaking open cut the gurgling words off.Turning to the door, Harry met Draco’s gaze. He noted the wariness, the anger, the love swirling in the depths. However, the one emotion that stood out the most was hope. “Potter.”Harry looked back at the photo. “Is he mine?”“Of course he is,” Draco snapped.Harry shook his head. Ever the Malfoy, Draco always went on the defensive when pushed into unknown situations. “You weren’t using me. Snape lied,” Harry’s words were so soft Draco almost missed them. “I ran away and it was all a fucking lie. I have a son and never knew, wouldn’t have known… Oh Gods.”Draco heard enough to put the pieces together. “Harry, look,” Draco didn’t know what it would solve but he had to hear the rest, had to know why Harry had run from him, from them.“We need to talk,” the two said in unison.In a sense of surreal déjà vu, Draco extended a hand towards Harry and waited. Harry stepped up next to Draco, eagerly taking the offer, and closed his eyes to hide the rush of emotion. Blinking back tears, Draco brushed Harry’s cheek and whispered, “Welcome home, Harry.” …end Information on Zumanity, playing at the New York, New York Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, can be found here.I have not had the pleasure of attending Zumanity so please overlook the things that are just plain wrong. Thanks!
10161368	Love Lost	{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by rdwind [archived by HPFandom_archivist]", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2007-03-14T00:00:00", "words": "4,749", "Additional Tags": "Explicit Language, Angst, Tragedy, Romance", "Relationship": "Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "HPFandom", "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 }	Disclaimer The boys aren't mind, neither is the play, but if they were... ohhh the things I would do with them! Present Day “Did you get the tickets?” He was bouncing, literally bouncing on his feet in excitement as his best friend smile showed his first excitement in what seemed like years. “Don’t look at me like that! Did you get them?”“Yes, Harry, I got them. Three tickets, front row center, opening night. You don’t want to know what I spent though, quite embarrassing to be honest.” Harry’s response was a literal ‘whoop’ of joy followed by a crushing hug to his best friend, Ron Weasley. Ron’s wife, Hermione, watched the spectacle with a grin on her face. It had been her suggestion to invite Harry to this play. She had gifted him the manuscript years earlier when his relationship with Draco went south.Harry had spent so many hours reading the book, that she actually replaced it the past Christmas. Along with the promotional poster for the upcoming play. She didn’t even care who was playing the lead, as long as she could see Harry happy again. Apparently it worked.Ron, still being squeezed by the smaller man, finally let out a laugh and hugged him back as the excitement leaked out of Harry like magic. His smile was infectious and his enthusiasm was, well… quite over-done if the truth be known. And all it had taken was three tickets to the play, Equus for opening night.When Harry finally released Ron, he turned and swept Hermione up in another bone-crushing hug, spinning her around in a circle. Years ago, Ron had learned that Harry preferred men in his bed and smiled at his original jealousy over his then girlfriend and his best friend’s sly looks and hugs. Glad for the days when he could just relax and let them be themselves, as long as he wasn’t expected to always show that level of emotion. He thought he would have had a breakdown if he had been expected to show that much…enthusiasm… all the time.Harry finally released Hermione and kissed her cheek. She actually blushed before asking to see the tickets. Ron sighed but gave them up. Harry snatched them before she could reach out. Smiling he looked at them, then sobered. “I wish…” “Don’t go there, mate. It won’t do you a bit of good to keep living in the past. We will all three go to this play and enjoy it, then go to a pub and discuss it. Well, I will drink and you two will pick it apart scene by scene.” After a pause, he added, “I was able to get back stage passes for you to meet the actors… if you are interested of course.”Harry looked down again, there on the ticket was clearly stated “EQUUS, Opening Night, Tuesday, February 27, 2007at the Gielgud Theatre, London. ADMIT ONE ROW A SEAT 7(Seven)” Flipping to the back of the ticket, it continued “1(one) Backstage Pass at the conclusion of the play.” The other two tickets were seats eight and nine and had the same message.They were going. Harry was going to see the play that he had been able to lose himself in after Draco had left him. Lost in the Memories As Harry returned to the flat he once shared with Draco, he sat in front of the warm fire and found himself lost in the memories.Draco and Harry had made their peace shortly before the final battle. Harry had confided in Ron and Hermione that he was gay and after he finished with school and the battle, he planned to go to Muggle London and live a quiet life. He thought he would write or perhaps try his hand at acting on stage. Anything different enough to throw off the Hero Worship he had known since he was eleven.One night, while the evenings were cooler, but not cold, Harry sat atop the Astronomy Tower. Wondering what his life would be like if he actually succeeded in killing Voldemort. Fear combined with confidence. Wariness combined with Gryffindorishness. Taking a deep breath and realizing that if he did win, he would be granted any life he wanted except being ignored by the Wizarding population, he thought of his plans after graduation. They were not exactly sound, but he thought that perhaps he could survive anyway. Maybe meet some sweet bloke and settle down in a flat or small cottage. Maybe he could have a dog as he had never had one.Being lost in thought, he did not hear the door open and close. He did hear the crunch of a footstep behind him though. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. He didn’t want to argue or pick at the intruder, he would just leave quietly. However, as fate usually does, when he stood and turned, he was met by Draco Malfoy. They just stared at one another for a long time before speaking.“Hello Harry.” Harry did a double take, Did Draco Malfoy just call him Harry?’“Uhm, err… hello… Draco. I’ll just be going so you can have some peace.” Regardless of the first name basis they had just encountered, Harry did not relish the thought of listening to Draco harass him. Harry took two steps towards the door when he heard a sound very much like a sigh, followed by a soft “Please wait…” and he did. He paused without turning to look at the other boy. A stronger voice came with the second sentence, “I came here to find you.”Draco moved away from Harry and sat on a bench looking at the night sky. A shiver went through Harry as he heard the words. “You see, there are things I want you to know about me, and even though you may not care, I still think you could give me a few moments to listen.”Harry turned slowly to the blonde, but did not move to sit next to him. The words seemed to tumble out of Draco’s mouth. “I don’t want to be like my father. I received a letter from him, telling me that I had to take the mark over the holidays and how proud I should be to be welcomed into the ranks. I never want to see that…thing… again. I don’t want to betray you.”Harry’s feet seemed to move of their own accord, he sat next to Draco. Quietly, so as not disturb the diatribe he listened. “I have hated you for so long. You always win everything. I don’t know why anyone thinks you won’t defeat the Dark Lord. You win, period. I am so confused right now. The only clear thing I have in my life is that knowledge. You will win this battle.”Draco paused and turned his head to face Harry. Harry’s breath hitched in his throat as he saw the piercing grey eyes staring into his soul. “I will do anything I have to do to prove to you that I am sincere.”Draco sunk off the bench and kneeled on the gravelled roof, still looking at Harry. “Forgive me for believing my father. Forgive me for ever thinking that you are less than wonderful. Forgive me, Harry, for never allowing you to see the real me…”Harry’s response was to lean over and kiss the man on the forehead. Draco closed his eyes and sighed. When Harry straightened again, Draco lay his head on Harry’s lap and talked. Harry, seemingly without realizing it, began to stroke the perfect blonde hair. Noting somewhere in the un-functioning part of his brain that Draco’s hair was much softer than he first thought. Blinking away the images, he listened to Draco talk.They talked until dawn. Draco occasionally wiping tears and Harry answering a question, but mostly, he just listened to Draco’s admissions. That had been the beginning.One battle with a Dark Lord and several peaceful years later, it had ended. Not quietly or contently the way it began, but more toward hate fuelled by mistrust and anger, finishing in a spectacular show of tears by Harry. He wasn’t sure Draco had shed even one that evening. The fight had been stupid. Harry had met with a producer to see about putting his play on the American Broadway. He had come home late, excited, and absolutely reeking of wine and smoke. Draco had over-reacted and said… well, he had said horrible things to Harry, none of which were true. And left. He just left the flat. His clothes were still hanging exactly where they had been hung. His shoes still under the chair in the bedroom. His favourite teacup, clean, sitting beside his copper teakettle. He had left everything, including Harry. Harry sighed as he came back to himself and the loneliness.For months after, Harry refused to leave the flat. Without his active participation, the deal had not been sealed and his play was now in theatre limbo. Ron and Hermione, along with several mutual friends brought food and cleaned the flat. Harry’s fear of leaving was that when Draco did come back, he would miss him, and miss the chance to make up with him. That had been over three years ago. It took almost a year for Harry to try to leave the apartment for any length of time. The longest was to apparate to the grocery story, buy food, and return. Of course, he only did this when Hermione absolutely refused for anyone else to be allowed to do it for him. The first thing Harry did upon his return was to check to make sure Draco’s things were still there. Now, three years later, he did the same thing every night.During the second year of Draco’s absence, Harry started writing again. Fuelled by the manuscript Hermione had bought him, he began to work through his pain by writing scenes of fierce battles and anger. What he should have said, what was actually said. His plays, which he never saw performed, were a raging success. But the author, “James Evans” was a recluse and did not meet the actors nor see the final productions of his work.This would actually be the first time he had agreed to leave his flat for more than a few hours. His excitement through the month of February kept erupting in the strangest of times. While writing an extremely intense portion of the current work, he laughed out loud at how silly the scene was and rewrote it to show a peaceful discussion of feelings and an incredible “make-up” sex scene he wasn’t sure could be showed in polite society.The day or the Opening Night, Harry went to a salon for a day of relaxation. He had finished his manuscript and sent it off to the publisher and felt a peace that he had not known since that time on the Astronomy Tower his last year at Hogwart’s. Closing his eyes while he received his massage, he remembered looking down into those perfect grey orbs… Equus He dressed in his new, tailor made, tuxedo. He only allowed himself a moment to think of what Draco would have said. ”About time, Potter. Never thought I would get you out of those over-large things you called clothes. With a grin, he apparated to Ron’s home for a Limousine ride to the Gielgud Theatre.They were there early, just a bit, and found themselves face to face with a poster of a horse. The man playing the lead was a handsome brunette with his eyes closed and turned away while holding the reins of the white horse was stunning. He had a perfect body to be sure.Harry grinned as Hermione reminded him that he would be meeting that man in person in just a few hours.As the curtain rose, the silence was overwhelming. Harry was mesmerized by the play. It was his addiction come to life. The actor, about his own just under thirty age, was nothing less than dazzling. Even though the tickets were for front row center, they could not see the shock of the lead actor as his eyes fell to the brunette in the front row. Between the first and second scenes, the actor had rushed off stage and vomited spectacularly. The stage crew had joked with each other about stage fright, given him a bottle of water, and urged him to return to the stage.His return was greeted by enthusiastic applause. He settled himself into the role of Alan Strang and played each scene as though the audience was not there at all. The end was greeted by a standing ovation. Everyone in the audience stood and applauded, all except one man in the center front row, who sat with tears streaming down his face and a broken heart.Harry had not, at first recognized the lead actor. Dark hair, obvious months of weight lifting and added pounds, coupled with dark brown contact lenses had first kept his identity a secret. But when he had walked out onto stage in the nude, Harry had no doubts who belonged to that perfect penis. Moment by moment, it became clearer to Harry that his beloved Draco was the lead actor in this play. Harry had noticed nothing else. He had not been lost in the play as he had hoped. Instead, he was lost in the man behind the character. His Draco. His Draco performing depraved sexual acts with horses and a woman. His Draco who was now looking at him deflated. Sharing a silent moment in a theater full of admirers and well-wishers. The actor, the man, the absent lover, wanting nothing more than to run and keep running. Explanations The curtain was finally down. Hermione and Ron had left Harry to go back stage by himself. Both had believed the story that had Harry crying because the play was everything it was meant to be. He sat alone in the quiet dark of the hall, remembering, thinking, questioning.He did not hear the door open to the hall or the footsteps of the man who was looking down at him. He did not hear the quiet footsteps of the man retreating from the box to come down the stairs and into the hall. He didn’t see the man as he came to stand beside him. He didn’t notice the intruder at all until he felt a hand on his shoulder.Looking to his left, he found himself looking at the only man he had ever loved. The only one who couldn’t trust him. The only one he wanted. His breath hitched, just as it had done on the Astronomy Tower. “Hello Harry” said the man, quietly, almost reverently.“Why?” was all Harry could manage to ask.Taking a deep breath, Draco looked into the green, tear filled eyes, of the man he had hurt and left. “I would rather not talk about it here. Care to get a cuppa somewhere?”“I’m going home Draco. I know you know where it is and if you want to talk, you can go there. I’ll make a cup of tea for you and maybe figure out why I found you like this.” Draco nodded and with a barely audible “crack”, the hall was empty. Returning Home Harry appeared in his kitchen moments later. He had just started the water to boil when he heard a knock on the door. With a flick of his hand, he opened the door and waited for someone to come in. The footsteps in the hall were his. Draco was home. When he turned, Draco was leaning against the doorframe but he wasn’t smiling. In the effort of small talk, Harry complimented his performance. The play was quite incredible. The compliment, however, did not sound convincing as Harry choked back a sob that threatened to escape.He turned away again as the copper kettle whistled. Carefully, Harry made two cups of tea. Draco’s of course was in his favorite tea cup, while Harry’s was in the mug that they had picked out together at their first vacation after the war when they went to Disney Land for two weeks. Handing the cup to Draco, who recognized it immediately, he received a quiet thank you. They sat in the kitchen, at the same table, in the same places, at which that they had shared so many meals. The effort to not say anything was overwhelming to them both. After almost twenty minutes of silent drinking, Harry finally spoke.“Seriously, you were amazing in the play.”“You think so?” Harry nodded. “I have to tell you, that the first time I left the stage, I had just seen you and I vomited all over the side stage.” He seemed relieved to admit it.“Are you okay now?”“Yes, I think it was the combination of stage fright, opening night jitters, and…seeing you again.” He paused for a sip of tea. “You look like shite Harry.”Harry had the sense to be ashamed. “I am okay now. Or I was until I saw you. Two hours of steadily crying and fear will make anyone look bad.”“Fear? Of what could you possibly be afraid?” Draco leaned his elbows on the table, a habit that he picked up from Harry.“The same thing I have felt since the day you left me. Of never seeing you again. Of never knowing where you were or why I am still alone. Of sitting with you here at our table and having a perfectly civilized conversation with you, when all I want to do is take you in my arms and apologize and beg you to never leave me again…” he left the rest of the words unsaid. Draco let out what could only be called a whistle. “You mean to tell me that there is no one else in your life?” Harry nodded. “But there is in mine.” Harry’s shoulders shrugged with a quiet sob. “I’ve never actually met him, so I feel a bit foolish. His name is James and he is an amazing author. He writes most of the plays I have starred in. I’ve been all over the world and he has yet to see me act.” Harry looked up at him in astonishment. “What is his name?” Trying to clear up the misunderstanding.“James Evans, he is a playwright from New York. His publishing and production company is housed there and I have tried numerous times to meet him.” The excitement was evident, even through a broken heart. He reached his hand to touch Harry’s forearm. “I’m sorry Harry. I handled my jealousy poorly. I know now you were not with anyone else that night. I actually figured it out about eight minutes after I left here that night, but my pride was too strong. I was too arrogant to admit it. To come home. And now, I have to meet this man.”“Is he the only one? I mean have there been others since you left me?” Harry asked half hoping for a negative response.“I’d rather not answer that. I have done just a bit of experimentation with women, but no, there has been no other men. I read James’ latest play a week after I had left here, and I was hooked at that time. I auditioned and the manager said I was perfect. His writing is just so full of emotion, and I just… how do I explain this? It was like an outlet for me. I know I hurt you and for that, I should be burned at the stake, but I never expected that you would still be here.” Harry met his eyes. “Come with me.” And standing, he led Draco to their bedroom. Harry’s clothes were still in the smaller closet. He opened the larger closet and left it open. He pulled out drawers and drawers of things that belonged to Draco. He walked into the loo and opened the cabinet above the sink, it was full of the things Draco left behind. Harry had not moved any of it.Draco stared in wonder. “Its all still here?” Harry nodded. “Why did you keep it? I would have banished it to the bottom of the ocean if the tables had been turned.”“I thought about it, but the one thing I touched, your silk pajamas still smelled like you, and I knew that I loved you enough to wait for you to come to your senses.”Draco looked around the room one last time, “I have to go. I have to perform every night for the next few weeks, and my contract states that I cannot be out late.” He sat on the edge of the bed. Harry looked at him, really studied the man. His hair back to its normal blonde did little to hide the tired eyes and slumped shoulders. He walked across to his one time lover. Gently he sat beside the man on the bed. Pulling gently, they lay back, Harry holding him close. Draco had come home, all would work out later. For now, the men slept in the most peace they had in years. The Morning After Harry woke the next morning to an empty bed. He took a moment to figure out if it was only a dream, but everything was open in the room and Draco’s scent was still on his pillow. With a smile, he rose and started his day. Now being sure that Draco would return to him, he wrote what would be his greatest play. All for one man, his man, Draco Malfoy. * Across town, Draco was sitting in the producer’s office. “You were out past curfew last night. You know you have to be in your bedroom at eleven o’clock! I don’t care if it was opening night or your mother just died, you will follow the terms of this contract, to the letter, or I will have your understudy take over for you. Are we clear?”Through gritted teeth, Draco said “Yes, Sir, I understand.” And although he half wanted to let it all go and just return to Harry, he said nothing more before leaving. * Harry bought, at three times the cost, a box for every performance. Draco did not know he was there, or at the least he did not tell anyone what he was doing. * It was the last week of the show’s run when Draco received an invitation to meet Mr. Evans in person. The reclusive author had heard of his spectacular performance from a mutual friend, and would like to meet him the afternoon after his last performance. He had not seen or heard from Harry again, nor had he tried to contact him. That one night he had spent at home was the best sleep he had in years. And as much as he yearned to return to his arms, he did not do anything that interfered with his performance. * The last show was a Saturday night. Harry had purchased front row center tickets and had convinced Fred Weasley to join him. Fred had glamoured himself to an older gentleman. As soon as Draco saw him sitting with Harry, he knew that this must be Mr. Evans and Harry must have been the mutual friend.Draco was proud to have been part of such a successful play. He turned down the offer to tour worldwide. The producer offered him not only salary, but a percentage of the box office ticket profit. He declined, stating that his understudy could handle the show. Words of Advice The following day, Draco arrived early for the luncheon. Mr. Evans entered the restaurant looking every bit as handsome as he had the night before. Harry either had not been invited or he had chosen not to come. The two men sat and spoke quietly about their mutual love of theater, interests in life, lost loves, and anything else that crossed their minds. The luncheon lasted several hours, until Draco asked him the question, “Mr. Evans, where do you find your inspiration?”Leaning back in his seat, his can between his legs, Mr. Evans sighed deeply. The English Aristocrat’s bearing changed deeply. “I had someone in my life many years ago that I loved deeply. I made a mistake of not believing what he said to be true. My pride kept me from returning to his side when I had left. Although I have met others, I have never loved another. I suppose my inspiration comes from that catalyst argument that left two men with broken hearts and too much pride to fix them.” Reaching to take a sip of wine, he continued. “You see, when two hearts are full of love, the world moves in a circle. Sometimes that circle has smooth edges, and sometimes there are bumps, but it always remains a circle. I believe, firmly, that had I been smart enough to return home, he would have forgiven me.””Did you ever see him again?” Draco asked cautiously.“Just once, he spent the night, quite by accident. When I woke he was gone. I haven’t seen him since. Of course, so much time has passed, perhaps I would not know him if I were sitting across the table from him.” With a final drink of wine, he stood. “I hope you will continue to find your path through my plays. You are a fine young actor.” And with a bit of a limp, leaning heavily on his cane, Mr. James Evans left the restaurant and a stunned man behind sitting alone. The Final Act Eighty years in the future The house sitting off the long county road with a large porch wrapping around the elegant manor. In the rocking chairs on the front porch sits two elderly men, holding hands.The children gathered around to hear the story of their great-grandfathers lives. The silver haired lithe figure spoke to the children.“I sat at that table for maybe another hour, thinking about everything that man had said. I knew that it was my fault that I was not longer with Harry. I also knew that I wanted to be with him very badly. You see, I fell in love with him. Pride be damned,” The children giggled at the word, “I had to find him.” The green-eyed man laughed, “Find me? You came home, threw your arms around me and cried like a baby for hours until you could finally apologize and beg me to take you back and let you come home.”“So you did forgive him, Grandpapa?” The blue eyed little girl asked.“Oh yes, I did. And things went well for a few months until my solicitor showed up with mail for Mr. James Evans. It seems as though your grandfather had written him a Thank You note.” With a smirk, Draco laughed. “It worked fine up until then.”“That was when I figured out that the old man I had lunch with that day was actually your grandpapa and had been glamoured for me to see!”“Grandpapa, what do you mean worked?” The redheaded little boy asked in awe.“It means that he outsmarted me and when I finished yelling, I kissed him and asked him to just marry me and get it over with. A year later, your grandmother was born. A year after that your Uncle Thaddeus was born, and the year after that your Auntie Lila was born.” He stopped and thought for a few moments. Turning, he said, “Harry, is that all of them?”With a grin, Harry said, “No Love, Sirius and Lucas came after that. Then they each grew up, got married and had children who had children. And look Love, those children are here now!” The children giggled at their great grandparents.Their children and grand children were watching from behind the sitting group, each with smiles having heard the stories so many times. A few of the sons laughed at the cleaner version than each had heard at one time or another after reaching adulthood. As the years passed and the seasons changed, Draco fell more in love with Harry. He was lucky enough to know that the pride that kept them apart for just over three years could have kept them apart forever. ~~~~fin~~~~
10176428	Prodigium	{ "Archive Warning": null, "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by Shivani", "chapters": "5/5", "completed": "2010-08-23", "published": "2010-07-26T00:00:00", "words": "24,197", "Additional Tags": "Out of Character, Drama, Horror, Supernatural - Freeform", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": "Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Span: 03 April - 21 July 201003 April 2010 He had been wandering for a very long time, ever since he had been chased out of his home country by the wizards there. Since then he had traveled west, sticking around and dealing with his curse (though he had to admit, it was not something he actually loathed) until chased out or he became bored (not all communities could even recognize what he was to force him to leave), until finally he came to exist in the United Kingdom. Much like in most other countries, magical denizens tended to cluster together, away from the normal humans, and he spent much time acquiring new knowledge as best he could under the constraints he suffered.It so happened that on the night of Halloween in the year 1981 he was tailing a certain man who went by the name of Lord Voldemort, a ‘dark lord’ who amused and interested him. He trailed along behind as the man and one minion approached a normal enough looking house in a village, and inside, where the man of the house (he must assume, anyway) was brutally murdered as the female fled upstairs.He did wonder why they had no other way to escape the invasion, but asking was out of the question. After a longing look at the corpse sprawled on the floor he proceeded upstairs and watched as the female pleaded with Voldemort and was then struck down. It was then that he could no longer contain his urges and moved toward the woman, ending up between Voldemort and a child (presumably the offspring of the two humans just killed), and it was then that Voldemort produced another killing green light.It, amazingly, partly passed through him, and two things happened almost simultaneously. The child’s soul was ejected from its body as the majority of the curse was reflected back at Voldemort (not that he saw that at first, being too focused on the child). Even as it entered his mind that he would be eating well that night he was pushed forward by the spell, plowing into the child’s soul, with both it and him lodging back in the child’s body. Reoriented and now looking out through physical eyes he saw that Voldemort was disintegrating. Moments after Voldemort was gone, all but his clothing and magical focus, the minion stopped panicking long enough to grab the focus and flee, and he found that he was being drawn down into unconsciousness, a state he could barely even remember given how long he had existed. Albus Dumbledore was a bit flustered on having been informed of an alarm regarding the Potter home, and had sent off one of his most loyal people, Rubeus Hagrid, to investigate. He hurried to Hogwarts after alerting Madam Pomfrey that her services were most likely needed, and waited, impatiently, in the infirmary, wondering if he had been correct in his actions. Still, Hagrid was generally reliable, and his status as a half-giant afforded him certain advantages in life. He would also follow orders, something many had difficulties with.Hagrid arrived after what seemed like forever, carrying only one: Harry Potter. Albus listened in a somewhat distracted manner as Hagrid spoke of having met Sirius Black and being given the use of the man’s enchanted motorcycle, and how it was that James and Lily were dead, James in the ground floor living room and Lily upstairs in the nursery. A part of him grieved greatly that neither had been sensible enough to make use of an emergency portkey, but he supposed that if Voldemort had indeed attacked, such a thing was enough to make even the most stalwart panic. He would, naturally, go there himself just as soon as Poppy had checked little Harry over; Hagrid was dismissed for the time being.Madam Pomfrey completed her scans and turned to him with an expression of grave concern. “Albus, he is healthy enough considering, but it looks as though he has no magic left. And I’m greatly surprised he has not awoken, not even with all this noise, even briefly.”Albus glanced at the child curiously, then shook his head. “I would not doubt that whatever happened has caused him magical exhaustion. It will surely correct itself in the usual manner.” He ignored the worried shake of her head and continued, “I must go to the Potter home now that he is safely under your watchful eye. I must see for myself what has occurred and handle what I can.” With that he was away.It was a simple enough matter (though profoundly saddening) to deal with the aftermath of the attack. He was known to certain inhabitants of Godric’s Hollow, and they easily deferred to his will. Aurors who had arrived were handling the muggle residents, so he entered the home, several aurors trying and failing to follow him. Albus was not the Secret Keeper, so he had no way of allowing them entrance. As such, it was up to him to begin the job of packing away the household so that he might deliver it to Gringotts to be stored in the Potter vault, and bringing the bodies of James and Lily outside.The only peculiarity he found was in the nursery—the clothing of whom he presumed was Voldemort. Why it was there he could not accurately divine, but it was obvious he had been there; no other ever wore clothing of that style. Scans indicated that the killing curse had been used three times, though how Voldemort could have managed to miss Harry was a mystery. He came to the conclusion that not only was Harry truly the child of prophecy, but that Lily had somehow managed to save his life. Love could be a wondrous and mysterious force. That the child came through the experience relatively unscathed was good.Back at Hogwarts Poppy was insistent that she keep the child for at least a day to ensure he would be all right, a demand Albus acceded to, and when it was plain that aside from the child still not waking he was well, Albus arranged to move the child to his new home, with the only living relatives he was aware of: the Dursleys. Petunia Dursley woke and yawned, feeling entirely dragged out. Even though her precious Dudley was old enough to sleep through the night he was still a very demanding child, and she often felt worn out. She carefully made her way downstairs and opened the front door, intent on getting the paper and that morning’s milk, when she noticed a basket containing a bundle and letter. Petunia frowned and gathered everything up, having trouble juggling things, and went to the kitchen. The paper was placed near Vernon’s usual spot and the milk was placed in the refrigerator, at which time she picked up the strange letter and opened it, then began to read.Her screams brought Vernon downstairs in a rush. Eventually the basket with her freak nephew was shoved into the cupboard under the stairs to get him out of sight and out of mind, though she did find it peculiar that the child had not awoken. Petunia passed that off as having something to do with his freakish nature. It was not until several days later, having given the child minimal care, that the boy awoke, and it was then that she felt fear more than anger. When Harry finally awoke he was a very hungry little boy, and he was also a very changed little boy. His mind had been drastically altered and evolved as a result of that night and the forced unconsciousness, and was now a melding of human and something demonic. While not having two consciousnesses, he had become an adult in a child’s body thanks to the lifetimes of experience of the being who had invaded and merged with him; he still thought of himself as Harry, though. That did not change the fact that he was extremely hungry, so he was relieved when his wails brought about a change to the darkness he existed in and a person appeared, though upset that this was not his mother.The woman looked at him distastefully before removing him from the container he laid in and marched off to another room, unceremoniously dumping him on the table in order to fetch food for him. For a normal child of his age he might not have had many options to protest this treatment, but he was hardly a normal child. “What are you doing?”The woman let out a shriek and swiftly turned around, staring at him in horror.“I am very hungry, whoever you are. You will remedy this quickly.”The woman fainted, which greatly annoyed him, and he was forced to wait until she awoke and dragged herself back up, casting a fearful and puzzled look in his direction before fetching a jar of pureed fruit and a small spoon. Harry was not impressed, as he had been eating more like his parents, but did not then protest. Once he had been placed in a high chair he ripped the spoon from the woman’s grasp and proceeded to feed himself. The moment the jar was empty he said, “More.”She scurried off and quickly returned with another open jar, shifting restlessly as he consumed that one as well. When he did finally feel full he asked, “Who are you and where are my parents?”Loud wailing interrupted and she looked anxiously toward one of the doors, then swiftly left. A short time later she had returned with a still wailing large child. Harry realized almost at once that he was seated where the other child would normally be and promptly slipped down onto the floor and hauled himself up onto one of the normal chairs.The woman looked almost grateful for a moment and placed the child in the vacated seat, then rushed to get food for it. Harry waited to speak again until she began feeding the child (something Harry viewed as mildly disgusting considering that the child looked as though he was old enough to feed himself, and was making an unholy mess to boot) to repeat his question. She eventually identified herself as Petunia Dursley (and the child as her son Dudley), and that she was the sister of Harry’s mother.“Why am I here?”He suffered through her attempts to explain while still managing to feed Dudley and recalled, after a moment of thought, that the green light had been the cause of his mother’s death, and most likely that of his father. Petunia explained that there were no other relatives, though she had no idea when it came to his father’s family. Someone by the name of Albus Dumbledore had left him on the doorstep sometime before her usual morning routine, and basically had terrified her with the letter he left, causing her to feel as though she had no choice but to keep him.More questioning revealed why he had awoken in a small dark room instead of a place like the nursery, which angered him, and he resolved to explore the house thoroughly to find a better place to sleep. And, while his demon side was very knowledgeable about magical folk, he was not aware of any specific incantations, only that they usually used some kind of focus; Harry resolved to get around those issues.His resolve was tested not long after when Petunia became complacent (or as much as she could be under the circumstances). Her fear ebbed and her anger returned, obvious when she said, “You’re nothing but a freak! I’d not have you at all if it wasn’t for the old man’s threats. You’ll take what little we give you and not complain, nor will you keep asking questions. Freaks don’t deserve kindness. Try anything funny and you’ll be severely punished.”“Oh really?” he said, anger building up inside him. A moment later she screamed, though he could not discern why, and Harry thrust out his hand, a jet of red light streaking from it toward Petunia. She yelled in pain and snatched Dudley from his seat, then fled through one of the doors.‘Guess I can do magic without those silly sticks,’ he thought, then slipped off the chair and set about exploring. ‘I wonder if the husband will have the same sort of reaction.’ The first floor held three bedrooms (one fitted as a nursery) and a spare room which appeared to be a playroom. ‘There’s no reason for this and I am certainly not staying in a cupboard, so all of this will have to be moved.’Focus and experimentation on his part soon saw the majority of the toys out in the hall for Petunia to deal with and the room itself cleared for occupancy. He might have considered the unoccupied bedroom, but it was decorated in a manner he found nauseating. For the time being he moved the basket to the room; he would persuade Petunia to remedy the lack of a bed shortly. He was concerned, however, for his safety. He might be able to defend himself while awake, but what could happen to him while sleeping? That they had done nothing to harm him yet was probably only due to not needing to be cared for until just that day. Harry wasn’t even sure how many days had gone by, as his original human mind had not been capable of things like keeping track, just like his human memories of the attack were fuzzy, whereas his demon side was but had not cared, though its memories of the event were fairly sharp.Giving consideration to exactly that part of himself Harry decided to experiment further, and succeeded in transforming himself into mist, a form which was capable of floating just about anywhere, even through walls. He had not been certain he could now that his body was physical, but it presented an interesting idea, based on the demon’s activities in the past. Harry promptly floated downstairs and located Petunia, then overlapped her, in the process copying relevant information from her mind, and felt little remorse when it disoriented her. A retreat upstairs and a shift of form back to one in the normal physical realm saw him sorting through his findings, then moving to retrieve the letter left by Albus Dumbledore.Petunia was correct when saying Dumbledore had threatened them. He claimed that wards had been erected around their home as a result of their blood relationship, and would protect them against those who would seek to harm Harry and his only remaining relatives. Freaks, in other words. Should they choose not to heed his words he was confident that people would find out about their relationship and move to ensure that they would not live long. He then entreated them to regard Harry as a member of their family—Harry snorted at that—and raise him with love and care. The remainder was a mixture of threat and entreaty, and all of it was guaranteed to enrage persons who considered magical people as freaks and abominations.Harry tucked the letter under the blanket in the basket and had a seat nearby. While he waited to see how Vernon took things he would take the time to go over the knowledge he held and think about ways to stave off any attempts against him by the Dursleys. He was jolted into full awareness hours later at Petunia’s shrill cry of “Vernon!” and shifted to mist so he could join them (no normal human being capable of seeing him in that form) and watch.Petunia spilled out her tale of woe, including an answer to what caused her fright (“His eyes—his eyes were glowing blood red, Vernon! He’s possessed by the Devil! He can already do freaky stuff!”), and watched as Vernon blustered and shook a meaty fist, promising to “take care of the little freak” himself. Harry chose that time to exit the room, transform back, and reenter in physical form.“You plan to do what?” he asked.Vernon began blustering again, obviously confused that such a small child could speak so intelligently and intelligibly, then marched in his direction, fist cocked and ready to be used. Harry thrust out his hand again, this time with the conscious intent to harm, and flung more of that red light. Vernon bellowed as he stumbled back, landing heavily on his backside, and with the light of fear in his eyes.“You will not attempt to harm me,” Harry stated flatly. “You will feed me properly, and you will purchase a bed for the room I have chosen.”“You dare demand anything!” Vernon shouted.“Do you wish to feel more pain?” he replied. “There is so much more I can do. Are you sure you really wish to feel the full extent of my power?”Something caused Vernon to blanch—possibly his eyes had gone all funny again—and the man said nothing further.“I am not particularly pleased to have to be here, either. Provide what I need promptly and otherwise stay out of my way. We’ll all be happier for it. Understood?” Once both Vernon and Petunia had nodded he slipped back out and up the stairs to his chosen room. Things went well enough over the next few years. There had been attempts against him, such as when Vernon stealthily tried to attach numerous locks on the outside of his door. It was a failure, of course. But on the whole they gave him exactly what he demanded to have and tried to otherwise pretend he did not exist, nor did they ever actually speak to him. Petunia was often busy borrowing or returning books to the library, having been forced to acquire a library card, in order to keep up with Harry’s demands for them until he was old enough to do so personally.His teachers at school quickly realized he was something of a genius, though he never outright admitted he had an eidetic memory, and alerted the Department for Education and Skills. They ensured that Harry was able to progress at his own rate rather than forcing him to be held to that of his age peers, thus enabling Harry to take his GCSEs at the tender age of ten, making perfect marks in twelve exams. He then began to study for his GCE A-levels.During those years Harry came to learn that the alleged wards around № 4 Privet Drive were something of a joke. True, they did prevent anyone meaning harm from entering the actual property (though he felt they were excessively flawed due to the still held and unspoken attitudes of Vernon and Petunia—Dudley simply ignored him), but they did not prevent other people from hanging about.Harry had been momentarily confused on seeing a figure dressed in a long black cloak or robe and wearing a white mask, but demonic memory provided an image of the person who had accompanied Voldemort on the night his parents had been killed. Therefore, he knew that whoever this person was they were not there for tea and cake. Rather, they were probably of a mind to murder him, and spying out an opportunity to do so. Having spent the past few years practicing a form of magic as much as other subjects, Harry was prepared to do something about it.He managed to lure the person into the park as the sky was beginning to darken, and headed toward one of the areas with clusters of trees. Children playing were starting to head home or being retrieved by parents, so he felt confident that no one would witness what was shortly to happen. By the time the two of them were alone Harry was already under the canopy provided by the trees and the person was not far behind, having had to skulk in order to avoid being seen by ‘normal’ people, and he was able to ask a question before the person turned overtly threatening. “What are you?”The person paused as he entered the shadow of the first tree. “I am one of my master’s most loyal Death Eaters!” the person said fervently, recognizable as male given the voice itself. “He shall elevate me to greatness once it is known I have succeeded in killing you!”“Oh really?” Harry responded, heartbeats before he thrust out his hand. It was the perfect time to try out some things he could envision, but had been unable to thus far due to lack of targets. He avoided the spells the man was sending his way by the on-the-spot expedient measure of misting, and sent his own spells out, his focus on what effects he wished to accomplish. Thus it was simple enough, relatively speaking, to break the man’s bones and slice his flesh, until, after a strange dance of mist and light, his opponent was dead.He laughed a little uneasily at having directly taken a life, but was broken from his thoughts at the sharp cracking sounds which were happening not all that far away. Fearful that magical folk had a way of sensing magic—at least that of the man he had just killed—Harry transformed to mist and engulfed the Death Eater, consuming him utterly. He remained in mist form—necessary to digest his meal—and waited to see what would happen from up in the canopy.Four cloaked figures soon arrived, each of them very quiet, and each brought out a focus and began examining the area. Copious amounts of blood and blurred footprints abounded, but no other evidence aside from the residue of magic.“There was definitely at least one killing curse cast here,” one of them said quietly.“But why? Even if the perpetrator disapparated when he heard us arriving, what about the target? This blood had to have come from someone,” another said.One stood up from where he had been examining the pattern of blood and said, “He could have taken the victim along, I suppose.”“Jensen, Twilfs, check and secure the perimeter,” the first one said. “Markson, start photographing the area.”Harry continued to watch as they went about their business, feeling amused and relieved that none of them even bothered to look up, and eventually floated home to his room. It wasn’t until the next morning that he returned to physical form, and by then he had rationalized the death as self-defense. The man certainly had not seemed willing to leave when it became clear that Harry was no easy target, and if Harry had not killed him he might have been able to report his findings to others, something Harry could not allow.He learned not long after a second Death Eater wandered into his territory and was consumed (before the man even had the chance to cast any spells) that he held the ability to change his appearance to match that of anyone he had . . . taken in. 1 Having melded with a normal human he had not even considered trying it previously; it made him wonder if consuming animals would have any positive effect. Things continued as normally as they could, Harry occasionally catching and consuming Death Eaters, right up until late July. Minerva McGonagall was nothing if not meticulous, Albus always said. She kept records of what dates letters were sent out, when they were replied to, and various other things. She was remiss, however, in not keeping track of who the letters actually went to, most specifically in the case of potential first years. But this was not an issue until after she had already visited the homes of invited muggle-borns, to show their families that magic was in fact real, the letter was not some kind of a hoax, and so on and so forth.It was when she was glancing over her lists that she realized no reply had come from one Mr Harry Potter, and this concerned her greatly, especially when she thought back to when little Harry had been placed with those awful Dursley people. Why Albus had insisted was not something she could readily understand, especially when there were upstanding, kind people who had offered to adopt the poor orphan. She had told him so, repeatedly.In consequence she directed the quill used to address envelopes for first years to prepare one for Potter and was subsequently astonished and alarmed when it refused to do anything. Moments later she was at the fireplace, placing a call to the headmaster. It wasn’t long before Albus was on his way to № 4 Privet Drive, carrying a hand-addressed letter in his pocket.A ring of the doorbell brought a horse-faced woman to the door, who paled on seeing him. “What do you want?” she hissed quietly. “Is this about the freak?” Her eyes darted around nervously, looking beyond him and even over her shoulder.“I have come,” Albus said, “to see Mr Potter.”The woman pulled the door all the way open and sharply gestured him in, closing it quickly once he was inside. “In there,” she said, pointing at a door off the hall. “I’ll go fetch him.” Harry was in his room when his senses went on high alert; someone was coming, someone who radiated more power than those Death Eaters had, enough to warn him well in advance. He spied out his bedroom window to see an oddly-dressed old man approaching, and as much as would have liked to mist down there, he was concerned in this case that he would be noticed in that form. Soon enough Petunia was knocking at his door, so he went to open it, arching a brow at her questioningly.“Someone to see you in the living room,” she said quickly, then fled.‘Great.’ Harry left his room and proceeded downstairs, entering the living room with narrowed eyes.“Harry, it’s wonderful to see you again,” said the old man, blue eyes twinkling and a smile gracing his face.“Who are you, sir, and why are you addressing me so familiarly?”The man looked vaguely taken aback, but answered readily enough. “I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, and I knew your parents well. I’ve known you since you were a baby.”‘So this is the man who dumped me here to be abused. How nice.’ “All right, but I don’t know you at all. I would be more comfortable if you did not address me in the familiar, please.”Dumbledore nodded, his brow crinkling slightly, and said, “It came to my attention that an error was made when it came to the letters being sent out this year for the school I am headmaster of; you did not receive one. I have come to remedy that.” He paused, inviting questions, but when Harry said nothing continued on. “I represent Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”Harry snorted openly.“Did your aunt not tell you of your past, who and what your parents were?”“Oh, I know about that, but I have trouble believing it,” he lied.Dumbledore smiled again, indulgently. “I shall demonstrate for you.” Movement saw a focus appear in the old man’s hand, and a quick, tight pattern turned the coffee table into a pig, which was just as quickly reverted. Dumbledore appeared mildly confused when Harry failed to react with awe.“Looks like a silly thing to do. Can you even do anything useful with this magic?” Had he been able to read minds he would have known that Dumbledore was blaming Petunia for his blasé and suspicious attitude. As it was, all he saw was the old man crinkling his brow again briefly.“Ha—Mr Potter, has anything odd ever happened around you? Strange occurrences that you can’t explain?”“Like what?”“Such as if you were angry about something, and an item exploded? An object moving toward you, something you wanted very badly but could not reach?”Harry shook his head.“Hrm.” Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully, then looked at him with piercing eyes. “May I try a test? I wish to determine if you really are magical.”Harry narrowed his eyes again. “Will it hurt?”“Oh, no, not at all. Just a spell to check the level of your magic, to determine if you are qualified to attend Hogwarts.”He considered that, unable to prevent a sense of unease wending down his spine, but decided that he must allow it. Killing the man might not be so easy as killing Death Eaters, and if Dumbledore went missing on a day he visited Harry. . . . “Okay.”Dumbledore cast another spell, this time aimed at him, and he was surprised to see a glow surround him, so faint it was barely there. The old man dropped his hand and sighed heavily. “It appears that you were damaged that night.”Harry knew damn well he was magical, so it must have something to do with his demonic melding; there was no other explanation as to why whatever spell it was showed otherwise. Was it possible he was instinctively cloaking himself, sort of like how those Klingon ships could do? “What night? You mean when my parents died? My aunt told me they got themselves blown up.”Dumbledore sighed again and shook his head, then stared at him intently, his focus hand twitching slightly.Harry felt extreme shock when he realized there was . . . something . . . applying a kind of pressure inside his head. Without thought he turned to mist and overlapped the old man, intent of stripping anything of interest from his mind, especially anything having to do with the spell the old man must have cast.Petunia timidly poked her head in at one point, but quickly went away, as Harry copied memory after memory after memory. When he was finished he maintained the overlap to keep Dumbledore unaware and unmoving. Diligent searching gave him his answer. The old man had tried to read his mind, looking both for the ghost of a memory of the night the Potters were killed, and for any evidence of abuse the Dursleys might have practiced on Harry.As importantly, among the wealth of information he now had and the concepts of Occlumency and Legilimency, he knew how to modify memories, and that is exactly what he did. He released Dumbledore after and shifted back, then waited until the old man recovered.On doing so Dumbledore said, “I’m terribly sorry, Mr Potter. There’s been a great misunderstanding. I shan’t take up any more of your time. Please have a good day and I shall see myself out.” And then he left, shaking his head sadly.Harry smiled and made plans to head to Diagon Alley, and Gringotts.1 Wikipedia says: “Jikininki are preta of the 26th class in Japanese Buddhism”—“also sometimes considered a form of rakshasa or gaki (“hungry ghosts”)”—“individuals cursed after death to seek out and eat human corpses”. Also,“several stories give them the ability to magically disguise themselves as normal human beings”.There are vague concessions to Mercedes Lackey’s Children of the Night (A Diana Tregarde Investigation), as well. Obviously, the jikininki who melded with Harry is not visible to the eyes of most while in base form, and the mist form and consumption method are borrowed from Children of the Night (at least, that’s how I remember the gaki there going about things, but my memory might be faulty). ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- 03-06 April 2010It was still fairly early in the day so Harry tracked down Petunia. “He’s gone. I’m going to London, so I’ll be out for most of the day.” He could see that she desperately wanted to ask questions, but stuck to her policy of never speaking to him unless it was absolutely necessary.Instead she lifted a finger, left, and returned shortly with a bundle of notes, laying them on the table. Harry took them and stuffed them in his pocket; it seemed she was pleased to get rid of him for the day. He didn’t need the money. Petunia had eventually started handing over notes when it got to the point where Harry wished to keep books, not just borrow them, and he had quite a bit available still to him.With a faint nod he quit the kitchen and went to his room to get a few things, then was on his way, stopping briefly in a public loo to change appearance, a face acquired from Japan hundreds of years ago. Stolen memory supplied where he needed to go to find the Leaky Cauldron, and once inside he slipped to the back and through the door, and sparked the correct brick to open the gateway.Gringotts was up ahead, a gleaming marble edifice, so he made his way toward it and inside. When it was his turn he spoke in rapid Japanese, requesting to see a manager. The goblin was reluctant to do so until he took a good look at Harry, then quickly complied. Harry was led off to a lavish office and offered a seat, which he took.The goblin behind the desk looked alarmed insofar as Harry could tell, and introduced himself as Alguff. “What can we of Gringotts do for you today?”Harry smirked; he was getting the distinct impression that these goblins were a lot more aware than wizards. Thus, he reverted to his normal form. “I’m here to inquire about any and all Potter accounts.”“We—we will have to verify your identity, but once that is established you will have our full cooperation.”“I get the feeling you know exactly what I am,” he said. “Proceed.”After a bit of bloodletting and verification the goblin produced several files and began to go over them. “We received word from Albus Dumbledore that you are a squib when he dropped off your key, though he is obviously mistaken.”“Yes, well. It appears that even very powerful wizards cannot match a goblin’s senses.”Alguff’s lips twitched toward something approximating a smile, but he quickly corrected his expression. “As a squib you would have only had access to your trust vault. The main vault would have been held until you produced a magical child. As your parents did not actually file a will that I am aware of, standard laws apply. Even so, it is extremely irregular for anyone to grant full access in the event of death when the child is still a minor. However, as you are not a squib, things change slightly. As a minor you have access to the trust vault, which is what they’re intended for. At age seventeen you will gain access to and control of the main vault.”Harry nodded. “Back up a moment. The key?”“Dumbledore brought the main vault key here not long after your parents died, along with the contents of the house. Your family went into hiding under a fidelius charm, so he must have been one of the few people able to enter. He obviously kept the trust key, perhaps in order to give it to you himself when the time was right. Why, I do not know, as it would have been handed over by us the first time you visited.”Harry made a mental note to possibly mist Dumbledore again if it seemed necessary, as that was slightly suspicious, but for the time being he would let the matter go. As it was, he had yet to completely go over what he had stolen from the old man’s mind. He watched as Alguff produced a key from his desk, and took it when offered. “I plan to make a number of purchases in the near future and I expect that will be expensive. What are my options for payment, keeping in mind that I wish to remain anonymous while doing so.”“Unfortunately, coin only. All other methods are dependent on identity. However, we can provide a pouch—for a fee—which will hold a fair amount of galleons, and be theft-proof. Our coins weigh far less than the equivalent amount of metal in the muggle world.” Alguff hesitated, then asked, “Are you aware of how the monetary system works?”“No, I’m afraid not. And also, is there anyone who gets reports regarding my accounts?”Alguff shook his head. “No. All vaults are monitored internally. Reports only go out on request by the owner. Even though you are a minor, your privacy is maintained. Were your parents alive they could, obviously. If you were placed with a blood relative they might be able to petition for reports, but they would have no say in how you used the money. When the trust vault runs dry that is the end of it until you come of age.”“My aunt has no idea that I have any money, and I’m not about to tell her. She isn’t magical anyway.”“Wise. Now, the coins we use are galleons, sickles, and knuts. Gold, silver, and bronze respectively. There are seventeen sickles to a galleon and twenty-nine knuts to a sickle. Muggle-born students and their parents generally have trouble adjusting to this.”“I can see why,” he said dryly, wondering what crackpot had come up with the magical system. “This is based on the worth of the metals by weight?”“Yes. At the present time a knut is worth about one pence, a sickle twenty-nine pence, and a galleon five pounds. It fluctuates slightly based on just how much muggle currency we are asked to exchange, but generally it stays at about those values.”“All right. I would like the pouch you mentioned, and then an escort to my trust vault, though I would prefer to be in disguise at that time.”Alguff nodded. “I will get you one and key it to you, then escort you myself. One moment.”Shortly thereafter he was striding out of Gringotts with his earlier Japanese face, pouch practically bulging with galleons, and an overview courtesy of Alguff of the shops in the alley. His first stop saw him purchasing a backpack, one which the salesman assured him had been made roomier with an extension charm, and also negated the weight of the contents past a certain threshold. Even with that he was cautious when it came to purchases in the various other shops, deciding to start with an overview of everything. He would return when he was ready for more.In the year that followed he returned a number of times. Preparing for his GCE A-levels was hardly an effort given his eidetic memory so he turned to the magical world. The Daily Prophet he had delivered was somewhere between a gossip rag and an answer to insomnia, but he occasionally found parts of it amusing. “Well?” Minerva asked anxiously.“This stays between you and me,” Albus said seriously.“Yes, of course. I know you wouldn’t ask that of me unless it was necessary.”He nodded. “Harry Potter is a squib.”“What? No,” she protested “How is that possible?”“I was unable, despite several tests, to determine the exact cause. It may be a side effect of that night. I do recall that Poppy was concerned over his lack of magic at the time, but I felt confident that it was merely magical exhaustion. Obviously, I may have been gravely mistaken. It also crossed my mind while speaking with Harry that the Dursleys may have done something to him, but was unable to find any evidence.”“So what happens to him now?” she asked after a long pause.“He will remain safely with the Dursleys, beneath the wards,” he replied, failing to mention that Petunia considered the boy a freak. “There is no reason he cannot have a fulfilling life in the muggle world.”“And when he comes of age? What then? Do you really think the wards will hold past that point?”Albus pushed down the slight irritation he felt at her questions. “By then, I hope, the issue of Voldemort will be no more.” He pushed down irritation again when she shuddered at the name. “Should anyone ask, you know nothing. Let them draw their own conclusions. I imagine what fertile imaginations should come up with will more than fuel the rumor mill, at least for a while, until something else of interest comes up. It is the way of things.”When he left she seemed to be lost in worried contemplation. It was to be expected; the Marauders, despite their disruptive antics, had been some of her favorite students, and by extension the only child: Harry.He arrived at his home in a bit of a quandary. Harry Potter certainly seemed to fit the prophecy, but he was a squib. How could the child possibly defeat Voldemort with no magic? Even with the alleged “power the Dark Lord knows not”? He spent the better part of the remaining day going over the prophecy, until the words were so firmly etched into his mind, and he had considered so many possibilities, that he questioned the meanings of “live” and “survive” and began to wonder if “other” referred not to Harry or Voldemort, but to a third party.And then he began to wonder if Trelawney hadn’t simply successfully faked the prophecy during her interview, something he had not thought possible. He was, after all, quite difficult to trick. And yet, even if it was a fake, it stood to reason that what Voldemort had overheard had created something on the order of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Perhaps Lily, in her unique brilliance, had found a way to cheat death for her son using herself as the sacrifice. That Harry had survived would only serve to enforce in Voldemort’s mind that Harry was most certainly his enemy and must be killed, thus making the validity of the prophecy a moot point.Perhaps it was best that Harry was a squib. Voldemort surely knew that Harry was scheduled to attend as a first year, and with the philosopher’s stone going to be secured within Hogwarts, should Voldemort come to realize that Harry was not where he was supposed to be, he would focus his efforts elsewhere. Albus had to assume that Voldemort was not truly gone; clothing aside, he had no solid proof the man was dead.Should he keep an eye on Neville Longbottom? True, his parents had been driven to insanity by Death Eaters and not Voldemort, and there was inconclusive evidence regarding what may or may not have been done to Neville, but could the results be said to have been done by Voldemort’s hand, simply because it was his people doing it? Molly Weasley hoped that when she led her children through Kings Cross Station she would encounter Harry Potter. He would obviously be a Gryffindor, just like his parents. That being so, and with the surety that Ron would be placed there, and later, Ginny, her family stood a better than decent chance of being able to boast (not that she would, of course) of having the boy’s friendship.Unfortunately for her there was no sign of the child, but on the off chance of attracting him should he be simply one in the bustling crowd she said, a bit louder than she should, “It’s the same every year. Simply packed with muggles.” Nothing. She sighed in disappointment and continued on her way, fending off hushed puzzled questions from her older offspring as to why this year of all years they had not simply floo’d onto the platform, and saw her children through the barrier, then followed.Still no sign of the child. She only hoped that Harry would be safe, what with the notorious Sirius Black having escaped from Azkaban. She also hoped that Ron would keep his temper that year. He did have the disconcerting tendency to react without thinking, especially to teasing and insults. Ron Weasley was so disappointed. Harry Potter was supposed to be a fellow first year, but he was nowhere to be found on the train. Was he in disguise, in case some of the older Slytherins felt the urge to go after him? How could he make friends if he couldn’t find him? Draco Malfoy was very frustrated. He had been to every single compartment and there was no sign of Harry Potter. He was determined to offer his hand in friendship, but how could he do that if Potter wasn’t available? Halfway to Hogsmeade all of the students were stunned into a state of frozen fear when the train lurched to a stop and dementors began gliding by, pausing at each compartment. Some fainted, some cried, and a couple even wet themselves. Voldemort was absolutely enraged, having started practically oozing anger the second he realized that Harry Potter was not among the students to be sorted that year. He was also disgusted that his host was sweating heavily under his turban, more so than usual, and the smell of stale sweat combined with garlic was enough to make him want to sneeze repeatedly. Except, dark lords did not sneeze, or at least not with any witnesses present.What had Dumbledore done? Had he shipped the boy off to some ultra-secret and heavily-warded place to receive private tutoring? The old man obviously was not taking chances with the Boy Who Lived. It remained to be seen if Dumbledore was even bright enough to realize that his worst enemy was sitting at the very same table. Dumbledore was beset with problems even before the school year had begun. Dementors on the train! Hysterical children—but at least Hagrid and Minerva were saddled with those. The ministry had gone too far in his opinion just on that alone, but to then set a contingent of dementors to guard the school against Sirius Black? Madness! Sheer, unadulterated madness.Quirrell stuttered so badly that his students were hard pressed to learn anything, and those same students were so occupied with gossip over the missing Harry Potter and the presence of dementors that too many ignored their homework, resulting in a record number of house points lost and detentions awarded.Snape was in a right foul mood over not having Harry around to sneer at, mock, and otherwise verbally thrash. An entire class of Hufflepuff first years exited in tears one day and had to be sent en masse to the infirmary where they could be given calming potions to settle their nerves. Snape was so incensed that he accidentally gave one of his stupider Slytherins a detention, which was simply unheard of. He was also antagonistic toward Quirrell, but that might be nothing more than the lack of his real target combined with Quirrell’s spinelessness and speech impediment.By the time Halloween rolled around the student body had settled down, though there were some who had to be pushed to attend classes for Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures due to their locations. Albus was halfway through a wonderful lemon sponge cake when the doors of the Great Hall banged open and Quirrell rushed in.“Troll in the dungeons, thought you ought to know,” he blurted out, amazingly enough without stuttering, then collapsed in a dead faint.He eyed the man for a moment, but was quickly distracted by the sheer amount of panic generated in those seconds. “Prefects, quickly!” he said as he stood. “Lead your houses to your common rooms!” He wasn’t too concerned about the Slytherins when he said it; they were supposed to be wily.Snape headed for the back entrance as Albus gathered up the other staff members to go investigate. They discovered quickly enough that the troll was nowhere to be found so he directed them back to the ground floor and split them into teams. A piercing scream a short time later saw him running toward the sound; alas, the staff was too late to save a muggle-born first year. The troll, however, was soundly defeated. Filch would have an awful time cleaning up the mess. The girl’s corpse had barely been removed to the infirmary when a prefect came racing down the hall, sliding to a stop nearby.“Headmaster! The Fat Lady has been attacked!”Albus let out a tiny, tiny sigh, then moved on to the next crisis. Harry opened his Daily Prophet and goggled for a moment. Two attacks at the school in one night? Perhaps it was best all around that he was nowhere near Hogwarts. Given what he had read he rather assumed that people would have expected him to do something about these events, as though somehow surviving a killing curse qualified him for the job of all-purpose hero. Right. Slay the troll, save the damsel in distress, track down and incarcerate the escaped criminal, and offer sympathy and portrait-mending services to a fat lady. He shook his head, finished the paper, and resumed studying. Voldemort cursed eloquently in Parseltongue, wroth over being thwarted in his first attempt at heading through the gauntlet of challenges behind the door on the third floor corridor and beyond the trap door. Snape was like a leech. On the one hand that raised suspicion in his mind. Then again, he could tell that Severus despised Quirrell and probably could not connect the pathetic wizard with himself. Thus, if Quirrell was after the philosopher’s stone it was probably for his own purposes.And true, it was suspicious that a man who had a talent for handling trolls panicked, but admittedly, he could only push Quirrell so much—too much and the man would burn out, forcing Voldemort to begin possessing creatures again. Voldemort was also incensed at Dumbledore’s utterly uncaring attitude toward the Slytherin students. Sending them toward where the troll allegedly was? Inexcusable.Voldemort played it cool for most of the remaining school year, avoiding Snape as much as possible (though there were times when Severus would threaten Quirrell, whose stuttering would become so bad his speech was incomprehensible), and working on ways to get Dumbledore out of the school for long enough.During that time he was inordinately amused over the antics of one Sirius Black, who continued to terrorize the castle inhabitants and avoid the dementors. For the Light to have unceremoniously tossed one of their own into Azkaban without a trial (even his Death Eaters had received trials!), they deserved a healthy dose of fear. He had no real idea why Black was targeting the school, unless it was revenge in mind (for surely, many went completely mad within the prison’s walls), but if nothing else it was helping to deflect interest in any of Quirrell’s suspicious activities.He was exceptionally pleased when Dumbledore informed the staff that the minister had demanded a conference at the ministry regarding matters affecting the school. He was even more pleased when Severus, shortly thereafter, raced off toward the grounds after looking out the window.Voldemort had Quirrell make haste for the forbidden corridor. Through the door, a quick tune to soothe the beast, and beneath the trap door saw them landing in Devil’s Snare, which was easily induced to back off. None of the other challenges were even a challenge, and Voldemort was soon inside the final chamber, only to be faced with a huge freestanding mirror. He spent hours there attempting to unlock its secrets, but in the end gave up in frustration, shattering the loathsome thing. So much for the philosopher’s stone. If it was somehow hidden by or within that mirror, it should now be irretrievable.Disgusted and angry, Voldemort decided to leave the school and find another way to regain his body and strength. Neville Longbottom had the unfortunate luck to be crossing the entrance hall, and was summarily kidnapped and brought along. He had been meaning to kill the child anyway, and he certainly counted as an enemy, being one of the two children possibly mentioned by what little of the prophecy he had been informed of. Too bad Snape had not known the whole if it. Ron Weasley found out it was simply not his day when a huge, snarling, black dog tackled him while he was on a walk (mostly to avoid Percy nagging him about his sad showing that year in terms of schoolwork). He was then dragged off toward the Whomping Willow, and it was all he could do to keep hold of his pet rat. It also did not help that his leg was broken after they got close enough, and the pain he was in short-circuited his thinking processes.The next thing he knew he was being dragged through a tunnel, and then up through a trap door. How a dog could manage all of this was not something he was capable of focusing on for the time being. That is, until he looked up after arms picked him up and tossed him unceremoniously onto a bed which had seen better days. The man with longish black hair, grey eyes, and a frighteningly evil grin was Sirius Black. Ron, being the very brave boy he was, briefly lost consciousness. When he came to his brothers Fred and George were there. He tried to warn them, but they ignored him.“All right, where are they? We know both Black and Pettigrew are here!” said one, while the other twin was turning in circles and staring intently at everything. “If Pettigrew is alive, then. . . .”Black revealed himself, still with that evil grin, and pointed at Ron. “He’s holding the rat. Wormtail, come out,” he singsonged. “Show these nice people you’re alive, and then tell them all about how you betrayed the Potters, killed thirteen muggles, and framed me for everything!”Ron clutched Scabbers close to his chest. “You’re mad! It’s just a rat! He’s been in the family for years.”“And just how long does the average rat li—”Snape burst into the room and knocked Black unconscious, Scabbers escaped Ron’s grasp and fled the scene, and the twins protested for a bit before thinking better of it. One twin spelled Ron aloft, and the group proceeded back into the tunnel, along it, and out the other side. Outside Black regained consciousness and morphed into that dog, managing to get away, and causing Snape to chase after him, while the twins brought Ron to the infirmary. They refused to answer any of his questions, either.Madam Pomfrey descended and forced vile concoctions down his throat—to heal his leg, she said—but it prevented him from sleeping for ages, and caused him quite a lot of pain. The next day was when he learned that Black had been caught by the dementors and Kissed, and Neville had disappeared. Albus sighed and shook his head. One student seriously harmed, a student and a professor missing, and how much of it could have been prevented had Cornelius better timing? At least the philosopher’s stone was safe. He glanced up at a particular chandelier in the entrance hall. It had been donated by an absurdly wealthy alumnus (which made it almost impossible to refuse) and had all the artistic value of something tossed together by a bunch of mentally-challenged toddlers. Even so, the huge, fake, rough gems used in it meant it had been easy to replace one with the real treasure. And best of all, Peeves knew everyone hated it, so he never thought to cause it damage.He sighed again. The only reason he had retained his position as headmaster, despite pressure from Cornelius, was the fact that the ministry had provided the so-called security that year. Thus, the majority onus was off Albus’s shoulders. Voldemort cackled quietly to himself as he arranged things at one of his safeholds in Albania. Longbottom was enjoying a nice long sleep, he had gained a familiar in the form of an enormous snake, and Wormtail had turned up to be his doting and terrified minion. Quirrell, no longer necessary, had been burnt out, and Nagini was providing one of the components necessary for strengthening him for the ritual: her venom.Two months later all was in readiness. The Black Arts potion required was bubbling away nicely in a large cauldron, Longbottom was on hand to supply blood of an enemy unwillingly given, bones had been retrieved from the grave of his father to be unknowingly given, and Wormtail was so under his thrall that he would willingly provide flesh of the servant. The ritual itself took all of ten minutes and Voldemort was soon in a body of his own once more, ready to take care of a few loose ends.An awake Longbottom, tears and snot sliding down his face in an unwholesome and disgusting display, was quickly dispatched with a killing curse. Wormtail, who had gone completely overboard and sacrificed his entire right hand, was granted a new, silver one. The sniveling gratitude made Voldemort consider killing his minion, but he might continue to be useful. And the moment he gave her a nod of permission Nagini moved to swallow the boy, an expedient meal.He would reestablish his dominion over the Death Eaters and set them to work. Lucius, having remained free, might possibly be effective when it came to tracking down where the Potter boy was being hidden. Possibly. Back in England Voldemort established himself at his primary bhold, a heavily-warded large building smack in the middle of a forest. Wormtail was set to cleaning after Lucius was summoned.He, after arriving and showing the briefest expression of shock, bowed and waited.“You will do your utmost to discern where Potter is. I am aware he was not at Hogwarts last year, so it is possible the old fool has him in training somewhere secret. However, Dumbledore has a bleeding heart and will probably wish for the child to have a childhood, so he will not push him too hard, which means it is likely he spends his summers elsewhere. Find him.”“Yes, my lord.”“You are dismissed.” Harry arrived at Gringotts and was immediately escorted to Alguff without ever having to say a word. Once he was seated Alguff said, “I requested your presence due to Sirius Black.”“The Daily Prophet reported that he was caught and Kissed by dementors. I assume he finally died, then? What does this have to do with me?”“Yes, he died just recently, which activated his will. Your parents named him godfather to you, and you are Black’s heir primus.”Harry frowned and shook his head. “This is the man accused of betraying my parents and breaking out of Azkaban in order to kill me, and yet I’m his primary heir?”Alguff shrugged. “Yes, though I admit, I must wonder why he stayed around Hogwarts for so long when you were clearly not there. In any case the bulk of his estate goes to you. This includes money, artifacts, books, furnishings, a home in London, and one house-elf. He descended from the main branch of the Blacks and thus was heir to the estate, able to decide the next. Had he not made a will control would have passed to the closest cadet branch, currently headed by Bellatrix Lestrange.”“Who is in Azkaban.”“Yes, though that makes no particular difference. I have here a detailed listing of what you’ve inherited.” Alguff pushed forward a folder.He wasn’t all that concerned with the money or furnishings, but a having a house in London was nice, especially since it appeared to be heavily warded—something he would have to verify and update if necessary. The artifacts and books might be useful, as well. “Any idea about the house-elf?”Alguff shook his head. “I suspect, however, based on knowledge of that branch, that the house-elf is steeped in blood purity teachings, so you might have problems with it. If you intend to keep it you may find yourself reeducating it. Otherwise, I would recommend dismissing it before it learns anything of value about you.”Harry snorted quietly. Unless the creature proved to be slavishly devoted to him simply because he was its new master, he would dispose of it immediately. The fewer who knew anything of his secrets the better. The goblins were wise enough to understand what he was and what he could do to every last one of them, and they tended to stay out of the business of wizards. Their wars had finally established them as true warriors with strict codes of honor and expert overseers of finance. Wizards in general might not like them, but experience taught that pushing the goblins too far would result in a large loss of life on their side.The magical history texts he had read painted a picture of wizards in general having become intolerant, bigoted, and prejudiced after relations with muggles broke down and they became actively hunted. No wonder the magical people had sought to separate themselves from those who hunted their kind. And yet, their ability to do magic had morphed views into one which supported the idea of superiority, which, given the slow-moving evolution of the magical world, rendered them ignorant of the truth.He shook his head to clear it and looked over the folder contents again. “Is it possible to change the locks so that if there are any keys floating around out there they would be useless?”“Yes.”“Please do so as quickly as possible. After that is complete I will probably go through the vaults to determine how to proceed from there. Let me know when that’s done. For now I think I’ll go check out the house.”Alguff nodded.Harry took a taxi to his destination and grimaced at the condition of Grimmauld Place once he began walking its length; the area was not conducive to feelings of security. Slum might be an applicable term. As he walked the street expanded into a square sporting a small and shabby patch of unkempt grass at its center—like a miniature park left to rot—continuing farther on as a normal street once again. Number twelve was located within the square and had an exterior dark with soot and grime, though there were no heaps of trash laying outside the steps as with a number of the other houses.He could tell based on the warding that residents of the area would at least wonder why there was no number twelve between ten and fourteen, but he supposed it had been that way for so long that it was more of an amusing quirk than anything else. 1 A longstanding unplottable charm would have that effect. The front door was adorned with a silver knocker in the shape of a twisted serpent; the moment Harry touched it the snake shifted under his hand, then the door swung silently open.The ground floor hallway was a mess, silent testimony of neglect. The carpet was worn, paper on the walls was peeling, and cobwebs decorated corners, none of it hidden even with the dim quality of the gas lighting which came to life with his presence. He hadn’t been there for more than thirty seconds when a small creature lurched in and began mumbling imprecations at him. It appeared the little beast—obviously the aforementioned house-elf—could somehow tell he was neither a Black nor a pure-blood.It took only a few quick spells to kill the little beast, and it was shortly consumed, Harry being curious to see if doing so would afford him any advantages in the way of abilities the creatures possessed. 2 Thankfully, given the size of his meal, it did not take him until morning to digest it. And even so, he was content to float around in mist form exploring his new house and making plans to fix it up and update the ward scheme.1 While the Harry Potter Lexicon shows that № 12 is between № 11 and № 13, this doesn’t jive with normal numbering systems, wherein all odd numbers are on one side and even on the other. From what little I could get from Google maps there are certainly streets in London which follow what I’m used to (as well as a town I not-so randomly sampled), so I’m changing canon in that respect so that № 12 is properly placed between № 10 and № 14.2 Consumption of a corpse grants their appearance and any special abilities they have, but not magical forms, and only from humans. A house-elf would only provide a meal. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- 06 April - 09 July 2010When Lucius came through with the location of Potter’s relatives Voldemort was both pleased and annoyed. It had taken his minion a very long time to get past all the protections Dumbledore had emplaced, though whether that had been because of the Death Eaters who had slithered their way out of being sent to Azkaban or because the old man thought Voldemort was not truly gone was somewhat irrelevant.When he arrived at their very normal house in their very normal neighborhood he took the time to examine the wards, a smile slowly forming on his face at the sheer ineptitude of whoever had fashioned them. His bet was on Dumbledore. That blood wards had been used and were weak meant that Potter’s relationship with his relatives must be bad indeed. Yes, they would still present a problem to the majority of his minions, but for himself they were no more than a minor annoyance.Even so, he was intelligent enough to realize that shattering them would probably bring the old man there immediately, so he resolved to handle things obliquely. The old man would never know what happened until after the fact, just as it should be. That being said, he waited until the family left the house in their car and followed them, snatching them after they exited the vehicle. Scans revealed no spells of any kind on them so they were brought to the prisoner cells at his bhold to be interrogated.It was evident almost immediately that they utterly loathed the child and were afraid of him given the shout of, “He’s a freak just like his freak parents! Always doing freaky stuff and threatening my family!”Voldemort took his time while asking questions, with careful application of pain curses to encourage the silly muggle to answer without ruining his mind. The truth could be discerned by use of Legilimency, but that could wait until he had satisfied his urge for torture.“I don’t know, I tell you! The damn hell-spawn won a scholarship somewhere. We were so pleased to get him out of the house we let him go without bothering to find out where!”This was backed up later with Legilimency, with neither of them having a clue, and it was also revealed that Potter seemed to have control of his magic without needing a wand. If what he could see in the minds of these pathetic muggles was correct, Potter had far more control than he had ever had as a child, which was worrisome. In the end he took great delight in torturing them to death, starting with the fat whale of a man and ending with the woman; the corpses were dumped in an alley not far from where their vehicle was parked.The implication he was left with was that Potter was in a muggle school, which made no sense to him. He would have thought Dumbledore would have the boy trained rather than leaving him to the mercy of muggles. The woman’s memories clearly showed that Dumbledore had visited the house prior to what would have been Potter’s first year at Hogwarts, but had left without taking the boy, and no one else had shown up after that. Had the old man deluded himself into thinking Potter was a squib? Or was it that Potter had forced him to think so? The idea that Potter didn’t trust the twinkly-eyed, grandfatherly façade of the headmaster was actually quite amusing. It wouldn’t save him from death, though. Harry was duly informed by school staff that his family had been killed and that they would get back to him as to his disposition for the incipient summer. He was then sent off with his tutor to one of the school chaplains, he assumed because they expected him to either be in denial and need to be coaxed out of it, or have some sort of a breakdown and need spiritual guidance. He took the news quietly, and the most they could get out of him was that he was not well-liked by his family.Further news revealed to Harry that the Dursley will would see Dudley packed off to his Aunt Marge, while he was to be sent to an orphanage. And, given that he had already applied to and been accepted by University College London (contingent on his GCE scores), it would be somewhere in London itself. He found that to be annoying, but supposed he could get away easily enough on a regular basis, and not just for his schooling. At least he had left nothing of interest at the Dursley home, so he would never have to return there. He would, however, have to stop his subscription to the Daily Prophet and begin buying it day by day, unless his new accommodations afforded him an easy way to avoid having muggles ask questions about why owls kept visiting him. Dumbledore received the news only because the instrument which monitored the wards had informed him they had fallen. The only way for that to be true was if Harry or Petunia were dead, and the monitor for Harry was unchanged. He supposed he would have to track down where the boy would be sent, just in case, though he continued to have severe doubts about the validity of the prophecy. It might well be that he would have to, once again, take up the mantle of destroyer of dark lords.A floo call had Nymphadora Tonks, a half-blood with a muggle-born father and sympathetic to him, on the task of investigating in the muggle world. The least he could do would be to keep an eye on the boy for the time being, even if it turned out to be pointless in the end. Voldemort did much the same as Dumbledore, though he had to comb through his ranks to find any half-bloods, which was no easy task given that many half-bloods were corrupted by their muggle heritage, and only a small percentage understood the truth. He himself had been too long from the muggle world and had no idea how to go about it personally, nor could he be bothered to learn. In mid-June, after he had been established in his new ‘home’, Harry became aware of another magical in the vicinity. While not Dumbledore, whoever it was was also quite powerful, and Harry quite carefully managed to mist the person, who turned out to be the self-titled Lord Voldemort. He kept him incapacitated long enough to sort through some of the new information he had acquired, which just so happened to include the secret of Voldemort’s survival on that Halloween night, and how he had managed to regain a physical body.And, while he had no doubt that Voldemort would happily destroy the orphanage without the least hesitation, Harry was not so inclined to bring death to essentially innocent people. That being so, he consumed the man on the spot, forced the wand to him which had dropped to the ground, and drifted off to № 12 Grimmauld Place to digest his meal. 1Perusal of the Daily Prophet several weeks later showed that Alastor Moody, aka Mad-Eye Moody, a retired auror notorious for his paranoia and alleged friend to Dumbledore, had gone missing. Voldemort was spitting mad by the time he had regained a body once again. He still had no idea what had happened to him. One moment he was scouting the area of the boy’s location and the next he was a spirit again. He had never even felt the spell which killed him.It was very tempting to track Potter down again right away, but perhaps it would be wiser to focus on other things first. He knew where the child lived, so he would keep for a while, especially as it was known via the reports of his minions that the child was unknown for visiting the wizarding world. Making sure his people were in position would go a long way toward making the ministry fold when he showed up with the corpse of their savior. Planning would get him everywhere. Blind rage would likely see him ejected from his body again.He called to him one of his minions known to correctly follow orders and not get ideas of their own, then ordered the man to haunt Potter. There would be no attacks, no entering the orphanage, or any other overt actions; he was simply to keep an eye out for any changes in the boy’s circumstances and report weekly, sooner if an emergency arose. “Again?” he asked.“Yes. Just last night it darkened again. I have no idea what has happened and have not been summoned,” Severus replied.Albus crinkled his brow and glanced at his monitoring instruments. “I must wonder why. You have done nothing except follow the orders he gave you. The fact that your Dark Mark keeps changing shows us that Voldemort is not truly gone. I presume you would have told me already had anyone said something to you.”“Of course.”“See what you can find out, thought I expect it will be . . . very little, sadly, until you are contacted directly or called.” The year passed for Harry fairly uneventfully, if one disregards the number of Death Eaters he consumed, those who had been watching the orphanage, probably on the orders of Voldemort. He left the watchers from Dumbledore alone. They, however, were clueless as to how much or how little the old man was aware of. It was late one Saturday night, when everyone in the orphanage was sleeping, that he sneaked out under cover of invisibility so he could safely apparate to № 12 Grimmauld Place. One Horcrux was already there: the locket.The diary of Tom Riddle was in the possession of Lucius Malfoy, but Harry suspected it was nonviable given that it had been the first created. 2 He also suspected the Gaunt ring was useless, for the reason that it had been created second. Even so, he was going after it and already had a copy he intended to leave in its place if the ring proved to be viable. As it turned out it was useless, but he switched it anyway and returned to his house feeling pleased.The Hufflepuff cup would be a problem unless the goblin definition of full cooperation covered that artifact, and the Ravenclaw diadem would have to wait until he could find the time to get into Hogwarts. Nagini, Voldemort’s recent familiar, would simply have to wait, even though he was fully aware of where Voldemort resided in Britain. The ring went on a shelf and Harry headed to Gringotts, laughing a bit due to Voldemort not even being aware that his Horcruxes were being used up each time he had to regain a body. So damn intelligent, yet so damn ignorant at the same time.Alguff, though nervous when the matter was explained to him, was more than willing to inquire. He was back shortly thereafter with approval from the bank’s director, despite the highly irregular request. Alguff escorted Harry down to the Lestrange vault and opened it for him, then waited outside as Harry deftly switched the real cup for the duplicate he had made. It wasn’t long afterward that Harry was back at № 12 Grimmauld Place with another Horcrux in his collection.Satisfied with the night’s work Harry returned to the orphanage and settled in to sleep. When autumn of 1994 rolled around Harry was interested to note that a Triwizard Tournament was being held at Hogwarts. It was surprising considering what he had read of them in the past, what with the potential for deaths, and wondered who had been so persuasive as to garner enough support to host another. He expected that Dumbledore had been adamant about not sending any of his students and staff to the mainland should it be held at Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, which would explain how it came to be held locally. If nothing else it gave him a ready opportunity to visit the castle during the events, and during one hopefully slip away long enough to obtain the diadem.The first opportunity came in late November. Harry was in the stands wearing one of his faces, knowing after hearing what the task would be that he would actually like to watch rather than sneak off. Hopefully the second task would be more conducive to his plans. Even so, he eyed the grounds and castle with memories of more than one person in mind.When he returned in late February he realized, after hearing what the task would involve, that it was the perfect time to slip into the school. For that he went as a cat, having long since stopped by an animal shelter which euthanized animals there for too long to try on a few new forms, taking ones which had already been put to sleep. 3Voldemort’s memory was foremost in his mind as he made his way to the seventh floor, and then as he paced back and forth asking for the exact same thing Riddle had. Inside was a hodgepodge of everything under the sun, but Harry knew what he was looking for and was able to find the diadem without much trouble. A quick switch was enacted and he was back at the second task with no one the wiser. Though, truthfully, he had to wonder why anyone would want to ‘watch’ the second task, given that staring at a dark lake was about as exciting as watching paint dry.He realized, once he was back to his normal life, surrounded by normal things, that while he could actually seek out Voldemort and keep killing him, it might cause the madman to become suspicious enough to start investigating things, and that might result in a check on the Horcruxes. After a great deal of thought and playing out potential scenarios in his mind he decided that one more death would be all right, but only when he was ready. Voldemort was becoming rather peeved that so many of his Death Eaters kept going missing. He suspected that Dumbledore had something to do with it, but the method escaped him. A personal look at the area around the orphanage revealed no wards he could uncover, and it completely went against the old man’s policy of redemption and endless second chances. He himself was not fond of the idea of spending any amount of time near the boy just yet given what had happened the last time he had settled in to spy. Perhaps it was time to step things up?True, with people not knowing he was alive it was easy for the general populace to wave away attacks on muggle towns as being done by supporters or random insane persons. They were not prepared to poke their heads out of their cozy lives of denial, which would make it that much more devastating when he did appear and terrorize them in person. Perhaps just a little longer. His seventeenth birthday was fast approaching and Harry was pondering deeply his next course of action. He was aware, after having misted Voldemort again when the man had decided to pop by, that he should probably get a move on with things. Unfortunately, it was not as though he could gorge himself on Death Eaters and completely wipe out Voldemort’s power base, though he could take out some of those who infested the ministry; he was not sure just what good that would do overall. After all, he cared very little for the wizarding world, and if too many of Voldemort’s people died the man might become very suspicious of him. After a great deal of thought he came up with his plan.On the thirty-first he was sitting in his room at the orphanage after having created a serious magical disturbance. The book he held in his hands was a historical account, guaranteed to make the blood pressure of any reasonably decent person spike in anger. This would, when questioned, be the cause of the disturbance. Harry promptly flung it across the room and watched as it slid down to the floor. He then found a much more interesting book to read.It just so happened that at the time of the manufactured disturbance there was no Death Eater skulking around the area, but one of Dumbledore’s minions was, and that minion fled immediately to report. When Harry sensed a magical approaching he checked to see who it was, mussed his hair a bit, and continued reading until a knock sounded at his door. “Come in.” The door opened to reveal a woman he recognized from Dumbledore’s memories as Professor McGonagall, though she was behind and off to the side from one of the orphanage ladies.“Harry,” Mrs Marquet said, “you have a visitor.”He set down his book with an irritated shrug and nodded, then gazed at McGonagall with wary curiosity as she entered.“Mr Potter, I am Professor McGonagall. Is it all right if I close the door?”Harry shrugged again. “Fine by me.”She did so quietly and turned back to him, her eyes widening momentarily when she saw what he was reading. After a moment she seemed to get a hold of herself. “Mr Potter,” she said slowly, “do you remember being visited some years ago by Professor Dumbledore?”“Yes. He said he came to check up on me, as a favor to my parents.”She nodded. “That makes this easier, then. You see, we had expected when you were eleven that you would be attending the school I teach at. Unfortunately, that fell through due to a reason which I will shortly explain. At the present time it seems it is possible.”Harry arched a brow at her. “I’ve already finished schooling.”A weird expression flitted across her face. “This is a different type of schooling.”He glanced down at his book, frowned, and said, “Ah, that kind of schooling. Does this have something to do with that strange . . . thing . . . that happened earlier?”She gave him a tight smile and nodded, then produced a wand and conjured a chair, seemingly a little put out when he lazily blinked. After seating herself she asked, “May I ask what happened earlier?”“I was reading a history book and became angry,” he said simply.“Oh?”Rather than elaborate he answered her with a question. “What do you teach?”“Transfiguration. I’m somewhat surprised at what you’re reading.”“Why, because I’m a squib?” he countered.McGonagall shook her head slightly, though it did not come across as a negative. “You are obviously not a squib given what happened earlier. I simply had no idea that you would have purchased any books of that nature.”‘Because I’m allegedly a squib,’ he repeated in his mind. “He mentioned Gringotts. I got curious.”She hesitated, nodded, then said, “With your permission I would like to check to see where your power level is. Assuming it is sufficient, which I have no doubt of given the strength of the spike earlier, you could attend Hogwarts and learn magic.”Harry quickly de-cloaked his power such that he would appear to be average or a little above based on his memory of Dumbledore’s memories, then nodded.Less than a minute later she was giving him another tight smile. “You should purchase a wand. I’m sure Mr Ollivander would be pleased to see you. Though. . . .” She shook her head again. “I admit, having a new student at your age is a bit daunting. You are terribly behind, unfortunately.”He smirked faintly. “Perhaps in waving a stick around, yes. I have, however, read extensively. For example, I’ve often wondered if the reason conjured items are impermanent is because what’s actually transfigured are dust particles in the air, something which by nature is not cohesive. The conjuration itself works against the very nature of the material being used.”After a startled silence she launched into a comparative theory discussion which lasted quite a while, and morphed into other subjects entirely, guided by Harry’s desire to confound the woman.“—have to wonder about a great many other things, as well. I mean, taking into account much of mythology, science, fantasy works, and even science fiction, it is possible to postulate that during the long history of evolution something like a meteorite strike caused a type of radiation which mutated part of the human race, creating the start of what one might term the magic gene. Those affected may have passed on the mutation to their offspring—perhaps as a recessive gene—and eventually children began being born who had this gene active. Over time they realized—probably through accidental magic—that they could effect changes in their environment.“As more of them bred together, more of a population base appeared with these god-like powers. Or, at least, they would appear god-like to the humans of that time period. It might also explain, as a recessive gene, why muggle-borns appear seemingly out of nowhere, at least from the viewpoint of magical persons, because the parents involved each contributed to an active gene in one or more of their children. It’s also possible that what we call magic is simply the genetic ability to tap a form of energy from a separate plane of existence.”Harry had to rigorously throttle back the desire to laugh as the expression on McGonagall's face became more and more confused.“Were that true, it would explain why modern scientists have yet to stumble over this energy, and why it would interfere with electronics. This energy is not natural to this world, and disrupts what is natural. But that’s just theory. I can also imagine that inbreeding, which produces defects of varying severity in non-magical people, would do the same with magical people, resulting in defects such as mental degradation and even what you term squibs.“On another look at separate planes of existence, it could be postulated that what magicals term as magical creatures are either mutated evolutionary paths of mundane creatures, much like how it may be true that humans divergently evolved, or, these creatures were actually summoned from a separate plane in quantities large enough to provide a fairly stable breeding population, maybe from the same plane in which we tap this energy termed magic. It would be excellent were that true given that the wizarding population does not seen to understand about resource conservation, having hunted some species to extinction, or near extinction. So. . . .” “Albus,” she said slowly, “his mind is. . . .”He gave Minerva a worried look, and gestured for her to continue.“Well, he’s either a very fast and glib talker, or more brilliant than anyone I have ever encountered. It seems that after your visit he became curious about the wizarding world and started purchasing books on every subject available. His theories are complicated enough and draw from so many sources of knowledge that I had real difficulty keeping up. He could also probably pass his NEWTs in non-wand subjects tomorrow.” She paused.“Divination excepted. This is in addition to having completed his muggle schooling. In fact, he was quite derisive regarding Muggle Studies. Said that the texts he purchased were so backward and out of date it was laughable, and only served to show that wizards were probably mocking the muggles in order to keep wizards from losing their sense of superiority, despite the fact that muggle advances have surpassed our own intellectual growth and research. He pointed out that the blame probably rests with pure-bloods who seek to maintain the status quo and the foundation of their power base.”By then Albus’s brows had risen up drastically, a reaction he covered by reaching out for a calming dose of sherbet lemon. “I see.”Minerva heaved a sighed. “I have told him he should purchase a wand. When I checked using your little spell his power was slightly above average, which was disappointing. However, his intellect should more than make up for it. I have every expectation he would be sorted into Ravenclaw. What I don’t understand is why now.”Albus aimed a vague smile at her and twinkled knowingly. “He did just turn seventeen. We both know that is the age of majority for a reason. Perhaps this is what unlocked his heretofore missing ability.” It sounded good to him, in theory anyway.She nodded absently.“My dear Minerva, I would like you to meet with him again, perhaps in a private room at the Leaky Cauldron, and begin going over some first year wand material. See how quickly he picks things up. While it is true that he would not be affected by the Trace, it is best that he refrain from any experimentation at his current home.”“Yes, Albus. And what if he does pick things up quickly? Can it be arranged for him to take his OWLs? I have no doubt he already has all the theory down, and from the way he argues, he actually understands it as well. It does not appear to be observable rote memorization.”“I think that could be arranged,” he said, “though he would have to pay proctor and evaluation fees given that he is taking them out of phase.”She nodded again and drifted out, presumably to plan. Harry headed off to Gringotts as soon as McGonagall disappeared off his radar to claim his inheritance. The goblins were most helpful, even providing an illegal two-way portkey to a shopping district in France, as he had no intention of visiting Ollivander’s in Diagon Alley. There he visited the wand shop in one of his myriad faces and spent several hours going through wands, finally settling on one that at least produced some reaction to his magic. He wasn’t actually going to be using it anyway, so it was a minor issue in his mind. It seemed his demonic side precluded ‘proper’ use of a wizard’s most valuable tool.On his return to № 12 Grimmauld Place he cast a few simple spells through it, proving that he could use it to some degree. He was more concerned with the notion that someone might, at some point, demand to perform Priori Incantatem on it, thus the need to at least partially channel any observable spells through the wand.McGonagall arrived the next day to speak with him again and offer an invitation to a private meeting at the Leaky Cauldron to see how well he could use theory and knowledge in practical application. Once they had settled in and she had cast a few privacy wards she said, “I am somewhat surprised that no one has ever mentioned seeing you in the alley.”He shrugged carelessly. “Nobody seemed to notice me when I first came here. Tom showed me how to get through the barrier when I mentioned I was a squib. Once I learned that I was famous I took measures to prevent identification.”“Oh?”“Wigs, for one thing, muggle makeup to hide the scar, and contact lenses to disguise my eye colour,” he lied. “Speaking of which, why is it that so many people know my distinguishing features? Was it really necessary for the entire wizarding world to know about the enduring reminder etched on my forehead that my parents were murdered? I guess privacy is something of a foreign concept around here. In fact, it would not surprise me if people would be tactless enough to demand to see the scar.” Even he wasn’t sure why the scar existed. Surely if he had been hurt during the confrontation the wound could have been healed. The only explanation was that ridiculous prophecy.Minerva shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat. “Well, Mr Potter, why don’t we begin by going over some of the first year spells.”Several hours later he had proven to her that he was quite capable, thank you very much, though he did begin haltingly, and then occasionally fumble the totally unnecessary wand movements and force certain spells to come out wrong. The table exploded at one point when his “mind wandered”, but McGonagall quickly fixed it. They agreed to continue meeting so he could work through the other four years with her—she pointed out that it would be highly irresponsible to do it any other way, citing Baruffio as an example—and Harry left for the day.On his way out he noticed one of Voldemort’s lackeys on his tail again, but decided to let it lie. Someone had to remain alive to report back that Harry was now actively entering the wizarding world, after all. The two weeks following saw them meeting so he could be ‘guided’ through successive years, and he was eventually offered the opportunity, arranged by Albus Dumbledore on his behalf, to take the OWL exams.While he was waiting for his results to arrive he had more meetings with her to go over sixth year material, and he deliberately flubbed more often and took longer to attempt to give the impression that he was reaching the point where an actual year in a formal school setting would be necessary if he were to properly learn seventh year material in wand subjects.Naturally, his OWL results came back with perfect scores. McGonagall took him on a trip to show him how to pass through the barrier to Platform 9¾, then left him to his own devices until the first of September with a reminder about the Statute of Secrecy. Harry kindly refrained from rolling his eyes at her—well, until she was out of sight, at least.1 A gaki is a being cursed to consume something, usually something we would consider very unpleasant. In this case, it's corpses. That doesn't mean this version of gaki!Harry can't consume live beings. Though, they might wriggle uncomfortably for a while at first. . . .2 In canon the Horcruxes do not seem to be affected in any way when Voldemort has his little cauldron bath at the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament; all of them still contain their soul shards and have to be destroyed. In this story they get used up, though that does not affect any protections placed on or around them.3 To expand upon a footnote for chapter two: Say that this Harry consumed a wizard who had the ability to see a few seconds into the future. He would gain that ability along with that person’s appearance. Consuming an animal would give the mundane form, but not any abilities (such as the killing/petrifying gaze of a basilisk, the disease breath of a nundu, etc.). Consuming a vampire, or a veela, etc., would give an equivalent non-magical form, but not their abilities. So no fangs, hypnotic gaze, bird form, and so on and so forth. A house-elf might grant the non-magical form equivalent of a very short person, but not their ability to apparently pop through wards, or their alleged telepathy. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- 09-15 July 2010He boarded the train early and found a compartment, tossing up an aversion ward to secure his privacy, and settled in to consider the myriad ways his plans might unfold—or, perhaps, be discarded entirely. The passing scenery became a dull blur after a while, which further helped him to retreat into his thoughts. It was when the train began to slow that he realized McGonagall had not given him any idea of what to do once he arrived. Was he supposed to go with the first years, or the other students? What an annoying woman. Well, he did have to be sorted, so. . . .It was awkward settling into a boat with mere children, and the blatant staring. McGonagall gave him another tight smile at the other end when she saw him and approached to inform him that, “You will be sorted first, Mr Potter.”Children nearby gasped and went wide-eyed at this confirmation of his identity, but thankfully were too shy, unnerved, or polite to begin pestering him with questions. His first view of the Great Hall in person was mildly interesting, but having seen it already via memory he was not impressed as the first years were. Irritation set in when it seemed as though every set of eyes landed on him, and deepened when Dumbledore rose to announce to everyone that Harry Potter had come to Hogwarts.‘Like they wouldn’t have known that in a minute or so anyway,’ he thought scornfully, then strode forward when McGonagall called his name. He eyed the hat with suspicion, but suffered to sit down and have it placed on his head; incriminating memories—his own or those stolen—had long since been tucked away, from the time that he learned of Occlumency.Within seconds the hat yelled, “Ravenclaw!”He was shortly seated among the allegedly intelligent students, who eyed him with disturbing gleams in their eyes, but were respectful enough to remain silent as the first years were sorted. It was when the food appeared that the boy next to him spoke.“Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Anthony Goldstein, Head Boy this year.” When Harry merely nodded he continued, “Allow me to introduce the Ravenclaw prefects. Morag McDougal is the seventh year female prefect.” Anthony gestured slightly.“Pleased to meet you,” the indicated girl said.“For sixth year we have Emma Peel and John Steed.” Both murmured a welcome. “For fifth year we have Diana Rigg and Patrick Macnee.” Once they had given their hellos Anthony said, “If you have any problems or issues while at Hogwarts, please consult with a prefect first. They are here to not only help maintain order, but to answer questions and other things of that nature. If necessary they will direct you to our Head of House, Professor Flitwick. He teaches Charms. The Head Girl this year is Sally-Anne Perks of Hufflepuff. I’m sure you’ll run into her at some point. For now, however, why don’t we enjoy the feast.”Harry loaded his plate and engaged in desultory conversation, asking several questions to be expected from a new student, then concentrating on his food in order to let the first years pipe up. He felt mild amusement at the guardian of Ravenclaw, and wondered if the questions put forth were tailored for the age of the recipient or not, but chose not to ask. He was very pleased that he had a room to himself, which was explained away as the necessity of a private place for each Ravenclaw to study, though each room had some kind of a ward on it which would alert the prefects if help was needed, such as in the case of an accident. The next morning he was enjoying breakfast, only mildly distracted when a very short man—presumably Professor Flitwick—stopped by to hand out schedules. He was annoyed that Hogwarts did not have enough staff to allow for students to take all classes given, and resolved to take the NEWTs for Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies anyway. It almost seemed like a conspiracy to make sure students were not well-rounded, and were forced at too young an age to decide on their future careers.Then again, given that the curriculum of Hogwarts was skewed toward relatively unchanging disciplines, with little to no focus on classes which could enrich a student’s life, he was not all that surprised. While chess might be useful as a way of trying to develop an analytical mind he had no desire to join that club. Nor did he consider the gobstones club to be of any use at all. And one sport only, which only had openings for seven students per house? Pfft. These people seriously needed to have a few lessons from the muggle world applied like a beater’s bat to their heads.“May I see your schedule, Potter?” came Anthony’s voice from his right.He slid it over and continued with his meal.“Well, I’m in all of your classes,” Anthony remarked, “so I can escort you to them until you learn your way around the castle. If you’d like.”“Sure.” Harry reclaimed his schedule and stuffed it in his pocket. It wasn’t like he needed it. “Anything I should know about the various professors?”“I don’t know about the Defense professor as we get a new one every year. Rumor has it that the position is cursed. The only ones you might have issues with are Professor Binns and Professor Snape. Binns is a ghost and has a tendency to put people to sleep in his class. Snape, on the other hand, is harsh, perhaps because potion making is dangerous in the hands of those who like to fool about or are just plain ignorant. I wouldn’t be put off by his demeanor, though. He’s not the one in charge of the NEWT, and we do have in-house tutoring sessions for anyone having difficulties. And Ravenclaws tend to just ignore Binns and study history on our own. We’ve worked up our own study guide to indicate what things are likely to show up on the OWL and NEWT.”While he was pleased enough to see that Ravenclaw house appeared to be at least somewhat sensible, he did have to wonder how it was possible for someone like Binns to even still be teaching. Surely people would have complained? The same went for Snape. Perhaps he should check through his ill-gotten memories again to see why someone as respected as Dumbledore made no move to correct things. He nodded at Anthony and finished up the rest of his meal, then followed the Head Boy off to Potions.“Well, it seems our celebrity has finally seen fit to grace us all with his presence,” Snape had tossed out as an opener. “We’re all so incredibly fortunate to have you with us. Tell me, Mr Potter, did you use confundo on the sorting hat to end up in Ravenclaw? That is, assuming you can even cast any spells.”It went downhill from there, with Snape taking points off him for the flimsiest of reasons, which outraged his house mates given that his answers were perfect as was his potion for the day. On the way to lunch Anthony said, “He really has it in for you. I wonder why? Normally we don’t have too much trouble with him, but I can see this is going to be ghastly this year. No matter, I suppose. We can make up the points elsewhere.”“Now that I’ve experienced him for myself I have to ask if no one has ever complained about him? That isn’t teaching, it’s bullying and gross negligence.”Anthony shrugged. “I’m sure the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students have, but it doesn’t seem to have done any good if so. I wouldn’t recommend being out after a certain hour, curfew notwithstanding. He’ll probably find more excuses to take points.”Lunch passed quickly enough and then it was off to Herbology, which went pleasantly. He ended his day of a mind to mist Snape the first chance he got. Albus, using skills hard won over his long life, spent breakfast, lunch, and dinner covertly watching Harry Potter, wondering how he could help the young man vanquish Voldemort. Aside from being intelligent he could see no real indication of the “power he knows not”. And he had no excuse for calling Harry up to his office as yet, though perhaps in a week or two he could inquire about how he was settling in.If he was as intelligent as Minerva claimed, though, the child might question his interest given that he had visited a grand total of one time thus far, so why care now? Still, the idea of even mentioning the issues of the prophecy and Voldemort to a child just now entering the wizarding world. . . . No, perhaps after he had been with them for longer. Harry soon came to realize that many of the girls within Hogwarts saw him as prime marriage material. Or at least, he assumed that to be the case given their excessively fluttering lashes, how the rate of giggling increased exponentially, and how often they blushed if he so much as even looked vaguely in their direction. There was one redhead in particular who seemed to pop up everywhere he went, as though she had bribed someone to get his schedule. At least she was a year younger and in a different house. Since the girls in Ravenclaw had some sense of decorum and the Slytherin girls simply ignored him, he had to assume she was either a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff. He quickly made it a policy to never look directly at any female student unless they were the type to treat him as a person and not a meal ticket, and even then he was suspicious.By the time Friday rolled around he was heartily sick of the attention. After breakfast he went with the others for their first Defense class, word from the younger Ravenclaws having revealed that Lupin seemed to be an all right sort. The second he laid eyes on the man he knew he was a werewolf and wondered how Dumbledore had managed to get that approved.He personally had no particular issues with them, but he could not imagine that the bigoted pure-blood society of Britain would be so relaxed about it. Then again, the fact that there had been no rumors about his lycanthropy only served to prove that magical people—or their children, anyway—were woefully unobservant. The strange looks he kept receiving from the man reminded him that he needed to mist Snape, and perhaps he would check this one out as well. Later that night, after everyone else was sleeping, Harry transformed to mist and began wandering the halls, knowing that Snape often patrolled in the hope of catching students.It took a week but he was able to ascertain the location of both their quarters, and was then able to mist each of them. Snape hated him because he was the child of James and Lily Potter, because James was a bigoted jerk, because he was obsessed with Lily, and because the man was not mature enough to direct his anger where it ought to go. He had, in effect, become something he despised: a bully.Lupin, on the other hand, was a close friend of his father’s, but Lupin was sadly lacking anything resembling a sturdy backbone. Not even friends who knew what he was and accepted him had given him self-confidence. Lupin was content for the moment to gaze at him from afar. If the man had any sense at all he would have moved to a country with less restrictive laws and made a proper life for himself. Harry saw no particular reason to bother with him.Snape, however, was interesting. That man’s sick mind brought about a number of ideas. The fact that he was allegedly a spy for Dumbledore yet was truly on the side of Voldemort made him more than a fair target. But not for consumption yet, oh no. Too easy, and too suspicious. He had a much better idea.Not long after that (thanks to judicious use of non-wand magic) and Snape could be seen eyeing that redhead. Harry only witnessed it during meals, but had to assume it was also occurring whenever the girl had Potions. The girl, for her part, seemed to be distracted from her fangirlish mooning and was often observed giving Snape puzzled and almost irritated looks. Harry spared a moment to consider whether what he was doing was wrong or not, then shrugged. Maybe he should mist her, too, just in case.As it turned out she was all set to use love potions on him if she wasn’t getting the attention she thought she so richly deserved from him, along with his money and fame. That having been revealed, he spared it no more thought. Why quibble over screwing around with the lives of sick-minded minions and psychotic fangirls who had or planned to do illegal things? Even so, he would be checking anything he ate and drank from then on, in case she wasn’t the only one.The male redhead who glared at him constantly turned out to be her brother, who felt betrayed that Harry had had the nerve to be sorted elsewhere from Gryffindor. It caused him to wonder if the rest of that family was as mentally unbalanced as these two and was pleased he had never officially met any of them.As time went by more and more reports showed up in the Daily Prophet about mysterious attacks, usually on muggles. His fellow students gossiped like mad about them, but never seemed to make the connection with Voldemort despite reports of the Dark Mark appearing, and a good many of them seemed not to care as it was “just muggles”. The muggle-born students did not take kindly to that attitude, but their classmates had a curious blindness when it came to that, aside from the pure-blood supremacists.He almost expected something heinous to occur on Halloween given the timing of the original attack on his person and the troll incident, but doubted at the same time, as Voldemort had been keeping a relatively low profile since the 1991-1992 school year. Harry spent several minutes, as he always did on that date, to honor the memory of his parents, and participated in the feast in a subdued way. Thankfully, his fellow Ravenclaws seemed to infer from his attitude why, and did not question it. Others, however. . . .“Not enjoying the feast, Potter?” came from behind him, at the Slytherin table.Harry shifted so he could easily glance over his shoulder; a blond with a narrow, pointy face was looking at him expectantly: Malfoy. “The food quality and variety is better,” he said vaguely, then turned back to his table. ‘How on earth did someone so tactless get into Slytherin?’ he asked himself. ‘Is Malfoy just defective? Not a good opener, in any case. Maybe I should eat him and see how his father reacts, and how it would impact Dumbledore. It’s been a while since I’ve had a live one. Though, perhaps only if he already has the Dark Mark. After all, it’s not a crime to be a bigoted asshole, just potentially detrimental to one’s health.’On the way back to the dorms he was annoyed to see a redhead pop up in his peripheral vision. A quick glance verified that it was the psychotic fangirl, and he was appalled to see that she had noticed his action. A dreamy expression transformed her face from merely plain to outright vapid, but it changed suddenly to one of irritation. He did not stick around to find out why.He heard the next morning, courtesy of the gossip network which hummed with life nearly every minute of every day, that Red had managed to back herself onto a staircase which just so happened to begin moving, resulting in a fall that should have been fatal. She had been rescued by her now ardent ‘admirer’ Snape. Disappointed that she wasn’t dead or laid up in the infirmary for a few weeks, he still wondered if that would switch her focus at all.As it turned out the answer was no. Red continued to stalk him around the castle, and Snape became even more inclined to unleash vituperative rants the second he noticed Harry was anywhere in the vicinity. Thinking back on his actions and what he had learned from Snape’s mind he was inclined to find a way to flog himself silly for setting up a situation in which he played the role of James, Red played the role of Lily, and. . . .Draco continued to toss out the occasional empty phrase, which Harry largely ignored, and things proceeded as usual up until a short time prior to the holiday, when Dumbledore called him up to his office. “So good to see you again, Harry,” the old man said once Harry had seated himself.Harry replied with an arch of his brow, then said, “I’m sure it is, Albus.”Dumbledore chuckled after a moment. “I wanted to see how you were adjusting to life at Hogwarts, Mr Potter, and find out if you had any questions or concerns.”‘Hint taken,’ he thought with satisfaction. “I’m fine, professor. Hogwarts is interesting, but given how much I had read previously, nothing seems out of order.”Dumbledore nodded congenially, then struck with a not unexpected, “I hear that you have not signed up to stay this holiday. Surely you would prefer to be here than return to the muggle world.”Harry smiled blandly. “One requires a certain amount of familiarity in one’s life. I’m sure that as time goes by I will be able to integrate the two comfortably.” He got the distinct impression from the look on the old man’s face that Dumbledore could not for one moment comprehend the idea that someone could find anything about the muggle world comfortable or even desirable. But, looking back on some of the memories he had stolen, that made a certain sort of sense.The man was questionable all around, especially given that flirtation with Gellert Grindelwald. Perhaps he should double-check to make sure the man was still on a vaguely even keel; if not, perhaps he could indulge in a little more torment of his fellow man. He nearly giggled at the thought, having come such a long way from his first kill as a demi-human.“I see,” Dumbledore eventually said, though it was clear he did not. “Well, please do remember that if you change your mind you can always go to Diagon Alley and floo to Hogsmeade so that you could return to the castle. Though, you might consider learning how to apparate during the break—with a qualified tutor, of course. If you would prefer to wait, however, we do hold lessons here in the castle starting in February.”Harry aimed a noncommittal smile at the headmaster and replied, “I will certainly think about it.”Dumbledore sent him off after a few more minutes of meaningless chatter, and Harry was pleased to escape. He stayed at № 12 Grimmauld Place for the break, though he could have used one of the Potter properties. A trip to the ministry secured an immediate appointment to test for his apparation license, and he was shortly away with it, off to Diagon Alley, not that he especially expected to find anything interesting, nor did he have anyone he wished to purchase gifts for.Red was around, but as Harry was in disguise she ignored him completely. He was browsing the wares of the magical instrument shop when someone outside screamed; Death Eaters had arrived, and by the looks of it, Voldemort was also present. Harry quickly devised a plan and disapparated back to the house, staying only long enough to change his appearance to one of the most recent Death Eaters he had killed, along with conjuring up an appropriate mask and cloak. Then he returned, appearing just inside Knockturn Alley, a fake wand in hand.‘Sheep,’ he thought, shaking his head slightly. ‘So many bleating people and none of them seem to have the brains to fight back or flee. No, they would rather flail around in a panic.’ He shrugged and stepped out. Voldemort could not be seen so he waded into the fray, absently killing Death Eaters who got in his way, and eventually arrived at an apropos location. A quick spell later saw his mask get shattered off ‘accidentally’ so that Voldemort could see his face (and quite probably wonder where his minion had been all this time).Indeed, Voldemort did spot him, a faint look of confusion flitting over his face, and then shock as Harry raised his wand and sent an overpowered severing charm which nearly took the man’s head off; Voldemort was dead seconds later. Harry cackled madly, drawing the attention of nearby Death Eaters to the death of their leader, then disapparated back to the house, where he switched his appearance to another consumed Death Eater. A quick rummage through his potion collection produced a particularly pernicious poison, and he was off again, this time to Voldemort’s hideout.He chuckled a little; protections meant so little when one could steal the information directly from the holder of them. Nagini was easy enough to find and the poison was spelled into her bloodstream and tissues with barely a thought. She was dead in less than a minute, and another Horcrux had been taken out of the equation. Before he left he ensured his false face was seen by at least one minion, then disapparated a final time.After cleaning up and having a nice meal, Harry checked over his Horcrux collection. All three were still viable, so he consumed Ravenclaw’s diadem and Hufflepuff’s cup; the items themselves remained intact, but the soul shards within were destroyed. Not bad at all for his first Yule holiday in the wizarding world.The next morning he was treated to blaring headlines via the Daily Prophet, screaming out the news that Voldemort had not only been spotted in Diagon Alley, but had allegedly been killed, too. Minister Fudge claimed it was all a prank in extremely poor taste. Also of interest was the revelation that Ronald and Ginevra Weasley had been kidnapped during the attack—because they were from a family of blood traitors, as speculated by the reporter.‘So much for that stalker of mine. I wonder if Snape is having fun?’ Albus called an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix the second word got to him about the attack on Diagon Alley, thanks to Arthur and Molly Weasley. A surreptitious call to Poppy saw Molly sedated by sneak attack and carted off to the infirmary, and then the meeting was able to get underway. Tonks and Shacklebolt, as eyewitnesses, were able to report on the events in question, and Arthur added his own information, which was admittedly little.“So you’re saying it was a Death Eater who killed him?” Albus asked.Both aurors nodded. “At least,” Kingsley clarified, “it was a man dressed like one. His mask got shattered by a stray spell, but I didn’t recognize the face.”Tonks shook her head.“And the body?”“Taken away by the Death Eaters,” Tonks said.Albus nodded, repressed a heavy sigh, and turned to Severus.“The Dark Mark has faded again, so I must assume that it was truly the Dark Lord at Diagon Alley.”“Does this mean that You-Know-Who is really gone this time?” Hestia asked.Albus shook his head thoughtfully. “We cannot be certain of that. After all, he has already risen once from what was thought to be his defeat. It is possible he could do so again. He has obviously done something to ensure his survival.” He turned to Severus and asked, “Any idea of where Mr and Miss Weasley might have been taken?”Severus shook his head. “I have yet to be summoned. If you remember, after his first defeat I attempted, on your orders, to access his headquarters, and failed due to how the protections had changed. The check I made after the mark darkened was the same. I must assume that any given Death Eater must be summoned in order to get past the wards at least the first time.“That being so, given that it seems the Dark Lord has again been defeated, it is possible they have been taken elsewhere, such as the home of a Death Eater. More than one of those families has dungeons in their homes, as was customary for pure-bloods. I know for a fact that Lucius Malfoy does.”Albus took a sherbet lemon from the dish on his desk. After tucking it between cheek and gum he said, “Will one of you share a memory of the attack? It may be that Severus will recognize the man you saw.”Shacklebolt immediately set his wand to his temple, so Albus fetched out a small projector pensieve. Moments later the attack was being watched by all present.“Reginald Higgenbothem, a lower level lackey,” Severus stated. “Not particularly bright from what I remember, but he was apt at taking orders and following them exactly. I do not recall anything which would have led me to believe he would turn against the Dark Lord.”The meeting degenerated quickly after that, with the usual orders being given out to collect information and stalk certain people, and broke up in time for dinner. Severus waited until he was in his quarters to laugh maliciously. Albus was such a trusting soul; all it took was a semi-believable, heart-wrenching story. He gathered up a few things and set out, ostensibly to carry out Dumbledore’s orders. On arrival at Voldemort’s headquarters he was surprised to find out that yet another betraying minion had struck, this time killing the Dark Lord’s familiar. Deciding that it was none of his business for the moment he proceeded to the dungeons where his dear Ginevra awaited. “No! No, never! You disgust me!”Severus snarled and backhanded the girl. Why was she being so uncooperative? Surely she understood the level of his devotion to her? Lily he could understand. The Dark Lord had been willing to let her live at his impassioned request, but mothers had a tendency to sacrifice anything for the sake of their children—even ones spawned from James Potter. Even had she lived he might not have been able to make her see reason. But Ginevra was a pure-blood. An hour later, after several lust potions and an extreme expenditure of energy on his part, he left his dear Ginevra to contemplate the error of her ways.When he returned the next morning he was devastated. His dear Ginevra had committed suicide by clawing out her throat. Severus was so upset he stalked over to the cell Weasley was in and cast the cruciatus until the boy lost control of his bladder and bowels, then obliviated him and returned to the school. Ginny Weasley, for once in her existence, had something to obsess over aside from the Boy Who Lived. As a ghost with unfinished business she could and would do everything in her power to ensure that Severus Snape got what was coming to him. Funny how being dead changed one’s priorities. To that end she traveled quickly to the Burrow. Her parents wept anew on seeing her translucent form.“Ginny, sweetheart,” her father choked out.She gave him a sad smile and nodded. “I can’t move on just yet. I must tell you who.”“Who?” her father parroted as Molly alternated between sobs and wails.“Maybe you should call Professor Dumbledore here,” she suggested. “Only him.” Albus called another meeting to discuss any updates. Nobody had anything of particular note to say, partly due to how little time had passed, and partly because most sources were utterly clueless. The Death Eaters who had been captured during the attack turned out to be front line fodder, and thus knew very little of importance when it came to the Dark Lord’s operations. They definitely were not among those from politically powerful families, nor those who had gold to bribe their way out of trouble with, claiming they were “under the imperius”, and thus ended up shipped to Azkaban after a brief mass trial orchestrated by Amelia Bones. She, at least, had pushed through the use of veritaserum, and the prisoners were so shaken by the prospect of dementors that the truth slipped out easily.Unfortunately, Fudge had waddled into the courtroom near the end of the proceedings, then threatened Amelia’s job if she dared go after fine, upstanding citizens like Lucius Malfoy on the word of some bumbling idiots who were so deeply convinced by the roles they were playing for the incredibly tasteless prank they had pulled that they truly believed they were Death Eaters.Severus had very little to say, also. “I stopped by Malfoy Manor, ostensibly to visit with Draco, and Lucius was nowhere to be found. Draco informed me that his father was off running some errands, which means he was out on the Dark Lord’s business. I also visited the Goyle and Crabbe families, ostensibly to inform their parents regarding the near-failing grades of Gregory and Vincent in a number of subjects. In both cases the men were absent.”Albus nodded, a look of disappointment on his face, then reached out for a sherbet lemon. He paused, seemingly indecisive, then retracted his hand, empty of his favorite sweet.“You lie,” came a voice distorted by rage.Albus looked sidelong to see that Ginny Weasley had revealed herself at his signal, to force Severus to confrontation.“You liar!” she screamed. “I was taken to You-Know-Who’s hideout and you were there! You’re the one who tried to convince me you loved me, and I should love you! You were the one who forced lust potions on me, then forced yourself on me, repeatedly! Is it any wonder I killed myself? Traitor! Betrayer!”Albus heaved a tiny sigh as Tonks and Shacklebolt moved in on a boggled Severus—one knocked him out, the other bound him in place. “Please search him for his wand, any potions, portkeys. . . .”Shacklebolt shot him a look as if to say, “Don’t tell us how to do our jobs.”When they were done Albus heaved another sigh. How could he have been so wrong about Severus? How could he have missed it? “My friends, we will have to interrogate him.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- 15-21 July 2010Knowing that Severus was a Potions Master (who didn’t know that?) and an Occlumens, Albus reluctantly agreed to a suggestion offered by Tonks, who as a half-blood with a muggle-born father had a lot more knowledge of the muggle world than most involved in the Order. The sensory deprivation Snape was subjected to not only induced anxiety, but also decreased his brain function temporarily. As such, when given veritaserum, he was unable to resist its effects. 1The whole sordid story came out in front of Amelia Bones, who had brought along specialty auror equipment to record things. Snape had never truly been on the Light side and had been playing Albus for a fool all along. True, he was obsessed with Lily Potter and had fancied himself in love with her, but more rational brains saw it for what it was, especially given how his creepy ‘devotion’ had transferred to Ginevra Weasley for superficial similarities in appearance.They were unable to get the location of Voldemort’s headquarters from the man, as he truthfully did not know where it was, and getting there required having been branded with a Dark Mark. He had been honest when he informed them earlier that Voldemort was necessary to regain access, but it was also true that assistance could be provided by one who was already in on the secret. Thus, Severus was able to enter after the apparent death of the Dark Lord due to Death Eaters being on the premises when it happened, so they were not stripped of the ‘key’ and could escort others in, such as the two prisoners and Severus himself.Albus lost a lot of respect that day from the people around him. For so long he had insisted that Severus was on their side, could be trusted, was repentant, and worked hard to atone for his sins and mistakes, that finding out otherwise shattered many preconceptions and much of his image. However, he was determined to persevere and regain respect and trust, though he doubted that Molly would ever speak to him again, and Arthur was iffy.He did not want to even think about the record number of howlers he would be subjected to when the media caught wind of this. The Daily Prophet practically screamed at the readers the next day that Severus Snape had been arrested, which caused Harry to wonder exactly what had happened. It could wait, surely, for when he had returned to the school, though he supposed he could mosey on over to the ministry and indulge in a little memory theft. In fact, even though he already knew of the majority of the moles in the ministry, it might be worthwhile to know intimately if these people were victims of circumstance or were as guilty as Snape. And, as importantly, to know how to find them when the time came for the deaths to start.Harry might not care much for the British wizarding world, but he was uniquely positioned to do something about the cancerous corruption fostered and bred by Voldemort, his people, and those like-minded. And what was left afterward? Perhaps it would encourage people of open minds to move to fill the gaps.And, despite what Dumbledore might think or wish, Harry was not about to ‘vanquish’ Voldemort because he felt it was his duty, or that he somehow owed his fellow magicals something, or even that he was the only one who could. After all, a prophecy was not an absolute. He intended to kill the man simply because it was clear Voldemort would not let this go, and he could never get on with his life until it was done. The biggest drawback was the reaction storm to expect afterward.He did, on occasion, wonder what might have happened if he had not been cloaked when Dumbledore had visited the first time. But then, had he not been, the old man might not have had to come investigate. Either way, his life would have been vastly different, and given how the students, staff, and the greater magical population of Britain reacted toward him, he was certain that different life would have been infinitely more aggravating, restrictive, and unsatisfying.The next few days showed more headlines regarding Snape; it seemed that everyone was out for blood and the Daily Prophet was more than happy to fan the flames as high as they could go, and take potshots at Dumbledore for his role in things. Would they learn that the exalted were simply human, too? Probably not. All the more reason to consider leaving the country once his ‘predestined’ role was complete.The Wizengamot threw Snape into a trial so fast one might think they were attempting to hide something. And it was probably true that most of the audience, for it was an open trial, were too much like sheep to see that the questions asked of Snape were tailored to show him in the worst possible light (with plenty of grey thrown on Dumbledore) without any questions worded in such a way as to shed light on their own foibles, failings, and outright illegal actions.The start of term feast back at Hogwarts featured the new professor, named Slughorn, who was accorded a standing ovation after his introduction by three houses. Dumbledore looked to have a forced smile on his face, but again, Harry doubted many, if any, noticed it. His new hobby for the second half of the school year would hopefully cause Voldemort to pull his hair out in frustration—that is, if he actually had any. Voldemort was feeling ever so slightly dissatisfied with life. He had returned to his headquarters to not only see far too many of his minions lounging around as though it was a gentlemen’s club (something he could unfortunately not correct just yet, but would soon enough), but also that his beloved Nagini appeared to be hibernating for some strange reason—or was possibly deceased. Of the prisoners taken during the raid, one was already dead and the other was severely impacting his food budget if the gossip heard was anything to go by. And speaking of gossip, another one of his missing minions had been seen on the premises.It took another two months for the potion and ritual to be in readiness—the first of March, coincidentally—and by then he was heartily sick and tired of seeing reports in the news of countless deaths of his agents in the ministry being murdered. Each and every time the killer left behind a calling card of sorts—a shattered Death Eater mask.Was this the work of the same man who had effected his ‘death’ at Diagon Alley? All evidence had pointed toward the man being something of a moron, but. . . . Was it truly possible that he had just never noticed the man’s intelligence and cunning? Had he become derelict with regard to his people? Arrogant and vainglorious? After a few moments he scoffed. How ridiculous! The man was obviously an exception . . . as was that other fellow. But that was it, exceptions to prove the rule.The deaths and shattered masks continued to pile up, distracting him somewhat from his plans. He did, however, decide to magically create a taboo on his name. People foolish enough to believe Dumbledore would soon enough realize their mistake, just in time to die of it. It was simply too bad that Dumbledore himself was unlikely to perish given that his use of the forbidden name would most likely occur in places the Death Eaters could not appear without causing more problems than Voldemort wished to court. Harry took the time, in between killing people to annoy Voldemort, to head on over to Lucius Malfoy’s home and check on the diary. It was, as he expected, nonviable. Thus, he swapped it with a duplicate and added it to his collection at № 12 Grimmauld Place. The only major project he had now was the final death of Voldemort, but that could wait.He considered killing Fudge, but the man was valuable in a strange sort of way, and too incompetent to be all that dangerous. A lady named Umbridge, however, ended up dead late one night, a Death Eater mask shattered over her corpse. She was not one of them, but many people might suspect she was a supporter, even though it would be untrue. Umbridge was the sort to try to get Harry sent to Azkaban had she the slightest idea that he was not fully human, so her death was simply a way of proactively protecting himself. Others like her were dealt with similarly.Harry also took the time to mist Voldemort again once he had regained a body, mainly to check to see if the man had created any other Horcruxes. That he had not suggested Voldemort continued to be unaware that his rebirths had rendered his Horcruxes nonviable one by one, and that he was now as vulnerable to true death as any other man.A check on Dumbledore revealed that the man still had no real idea of how Voldemort had secured protection from death, though he was beginning to suspect Horcruxes as one method, possibly because it was the most easily available to study, despite information on them being difficult to come by. Certain books had mysteriously disappeared from the Hogwarts library, only to reappear in the headmaster’s private collection. The check also revealed that Voldemort had placed a taboo on his name. Harry grinned widely once alone at that information, and began planning times in and around his other killings to make use of such a convenient tool.Nasty insects were easily enough transfigured into ‘people’ and used as visible bait in reverse-taboo traps. The Death Eaters would arrive, see the ‘person’ and begin shooting spells, never noticing that an extra Death Eater had also shown up for the ‘fun’. Harry would quietly kill them, picking them off from behind, then burn the corpses to ash.By the time the first of June rolled around (and with it revision week for the NEWTs), Harry had killed off a simply enormous number of Death Eaters. Voldemort was pissed, but also practicing something called Wizarding Logic—which is to say, next to no logic and precious little common sense, a common affliction among those who had lived too long within the wizarding world.He spent revision week dreaming up things to do once he was free, and then happily enough sat his exams for the following two weeks. The evening before his final exam—Muggle Studies, incidentally—Voldemort chose to reveal himself by storming Hogwarts with an ‘army’ of his remaining Death Eaters, dementors, and various other nasty and malicious creatures. A poor showing, all told, with the exception of dementors. An informed and determined first year could handle many of the creatures, after all.Beings boiled onto the grounds and into the castle via the forest, the sky, the front gates, and through various not-so secret passages (some of which Harry assumed had to be repaired). The students mostly began screaming and flailing around in a panic, causing Harry to slap quite a number of them and demand that they do something constructive, such as getting the younger years to safety.With that out of the way Harry headed outside to see how things fared. Dumbledore was in the middle of a battle with Voldemort, and only the old man’s deep understanding of defensive magical tactics appeared to be keeping him alive (and frustrating Voldemort at the same time).Rather than do the heroic Gryffindor thing and leap into battle with plenty of warning for his opponent, Harry wandered up behind the fighting duo and coughed loudly. And as soon as Voldemort half-turned to see who was foolish enough to do such a thing Harry cast an overpowered severing charm, once again nearly beheading the man. Voldemort dropped to the ground dead seconds later.Dumbledore gawked for several long moments, then turned to Harry, a look on his face of confusion mingled with protest. But before he could say anything at all, Death Eaters all around them began screaming and clutching at their arms. They, too, dropped to the ground, exhaling their final breaths on a battlefield of Light victory. The creatures, seeing that the tide had turned, were torn between enjoying the buffet of corpses and scuttling off into the forest.“Harry!”“Yes, headmaster?” he said, casually creating multiple patronuses to herd the dementors into a group.“I—” Dumbledore stopped, apparently at a loss for words.“I agree,” Harry replied, as though the headmaster had said something intelligible, “the aurors should be called straight away. And you’re right, the staff and seventh years can round up all these dead Death Eaters to help out. Excellent thinking. But, I guess that’s why you’re Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the ICW.”Dumbledore shook himself like a dog and nodded.The next day Harry took his Muggle Studies NEWT, a steady stream of derogatory comments running through his mind, and heaved a sigh of relief when it was over. He was called up to Dumbledore’s office the morning after for a meeting, and he went, rolling his eyes at the necessity.“Harry,” Dumbledore greeted him congenially.“Albus,” Harry said just as congenially.Dumbledore coughed quietly and said, “There is something I should inform you of. I might have told you much sooner, but you were so young, and you have only just recently rejoined the wizarding world.”Harry nodded and remained silent, knowing that Dumbledore liked to have people ask him questions, rather than just coming out and saying what he wished to impart.The old man eventually continued, “You see, there was a prophecy regarding you and Voldemort, one which foresaw you as the one with the power to defeat him. And, while you have brought him down, it remains true that no one has ever figured out how he cheated death in the past. I am concerned that—”“Well,” Harry interrupted, “is that really a concern? It’s not like the Death Eaters all died when Voldemort was defeated before, but they have this time. Doesn’t that say something about the situation?”Dumbledore coughed again and twiddled with his beard.Harry decided to overload the man with his unique brand of oratory, even if it was for an audience of one—unless one counted portraits. “Now, one could theorize that the first time didn’t count as he may have been protected by prophecy. And one could also theorize that any idiot could have cast a fatal curse at the man with little to no lasting result due to that same prophecy. In fact, the same could be said of me if you think about it—but that’s not really the focus, right?“I’ll put forth the supposition that in addition to the possibility of prophecy protecting him that first time, it was also a matter of me personally not casting anything against the man. I was barely a toddler after all, and no one is that precocious! However, when I stepped forward this time I did so deliberately, and consciously cast a spell which could have fatal results. If I am the one with the power to defeat Voldemort, as you mentioned, then that should be the end of it.“Of course, it would help if I knew what this prophecy stated. Then I could be much more firm in my thoughts on the matter. Even so, even without that, that the Death Eaters all died when their master did bly supports my theory, and also suggests that they were linked to him in such a way as to. . . .” Ten minutes later he stopped talking, pleased with the way Dumbledore’s eyes had glazed over.When Dumbledore had not spoken even five minutes later Harry simply smiled and stood up, then left. “Now, who do we have next?” Lucifer mused quietly, glancing at the list of incoming damned souls. “Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort.” He laughed and flipped his long flame-red hair back. “How delightful! I shall have to ask him how that name change worked out for him.” Albus eventually snapped out of it and was surprised to see that Harry Potter was no longer in his office. In fact, it was time for dinner. Had he really been sitting there all day thinking? And to what end? He realized, as uncomfortable as the truth was, that he had been completely unnecessary when it came to Harry’s defeat of Voldemort. All that time, all that planning, all those ideas on how to assist. . . . All of it was pointless. He had never in his entire life felt so utterly useless and marginalized.He heaved a huge sigh, popped a sherbet lemon in his mouth, and wandered off to the Great Hall to give a speech before the food arrived announcing his retirement. The population therein exploded with chatter, and McGonagall kept eyeing him strangely, but his mind had drifted off into plans to own and operate a sherbet lemon factory, perhaps manufacturing them in different shapes pleasing to the eye. Or perhaps he could run a little shop or café selling lemon-related goods. He would hire only the best bakers! Lemon sponge cake, lemon tarts, lemonade, lemon. . . . Harry snarled as he looked out the window of the Hogwarts Express. Countless reporters thronged the platform, just waiting to attack once he stepped into view. Ravenous hell-beast scavenging morons, the lot of them. A few seconds later his belongings were shrunken and tucked into his pocket, and he disapparated to № 12 Grimmauld Place.“Perhaps now would be a good time to flee the country,” he muttered. “Maybe go on a world tour. Suppose I should wait for my NEWT results, even though I know they’ll be perfect.”A week later they arrived, along with a notice from the ministry stating that he was being awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class, and would he like to attend a ceremony? He sent off a reply thanking them and stating in as many ways as possible that no, he would not, in the hopes that it might get his point across. And if not? Not his problem. After all, the Death Eaters were dead, most of the corruption in the ministry was gone, so the British wizarding population should be fine now, right?Definitely time to consider an extended holiday. 1 Sensory deprivation is used for a number of reasons, both good and bad. Wikipedia has this to say, in part: “. . .extended or forced sensory deprivation can result in extreme anxiety, hallucinations, bizarre thoughts and depression”.
10131593	revoir	{ "Archive Warning": "Major Character Death", "Category": "Other", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "昭和元禄落語心中 \| Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu (Anime)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by sukeban", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-06T00:00:00", "words": "409", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": null, "Character": "Miyokichi (Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu)", "Relationships": "Miyokichi/Yuurakutei Sukeroku, but only in mention because there's really not.. well you get it", "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 }	expendable.a constant in her life.no.her very essence already had it carved under the flesh.Yurie dwelt with heartbreak.Miyokichi could, at least, feign a slight ignorance with the bat of an eyelash.within one blink, endless men were gone. within another, they were substituted for the same amount.the mutual relationship of exchanging one another had never been so reassuring, it’s shallowness granting the safety she so deeply craved. their names, faces, background… none mattered when their voices would be but a memory once they left. and those memories would be washed away along the makeup on her face. this ephemeral and short-lived every day had brought even less joy but midst the war, what is there to be done? the faux smile after receiving a compliment was little to ask for in exchange of surviving in a faraway land.home became a concept.a faint wish.faint as the lingering scent of sake in a customer's breathe.even after believing all of it to be ephemeral, they rooted in her mind and were unwilling to leave.very much like the Yurie who thought there was something more than this. something more than the empty feeling of abandonment, one that she so stubbornly fought and fought -- why, like that very feeling, did she cling as strongly, too?loneliness terrifies anyone and although midst a sea of people, Miyokichi had nowhere to turn.Kiku, oh, Kiku. he simply carved even further what she already knew.she is not a worthy woman.and now, even less as a geisha.she's joy, entertainment. a pair of pretty eyes, fluttering eyelashes and red lip balm. flower patterns and a sultry laugh.disposable. expendable.but she wished, desired so strongly -- how can they not see as well? why did they not prove her wrong?why did they not stole her, took her away from all of this?why must the strong and protective embrace come now, of all times, after years and years of waiting --why, why till now?why till she hangs at the brink of death's door, must he hold her so tight with the unwillingness of letting go?it's so late, so late.after everything, only now he fought.he fought and held her close, keeping her away from unavoidable harm.only now she could see his worth and her own. her value worthy of a sacrifice.finally....why, why only now?...why till death do us apart.
10193936	A Independent Wandmakers	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Wandmore (EssayOfThoughts)", "chapters": "4/28", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-09T00:00:00", "words": "6,584", "Additional Tags": "Wandmaking Guide, Wandlore, Wand Woods, Wand Cores, Worldbuilding, Headcanon, Fanwork Research & Reference Guides, Guides, In-Universe Text", "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 }	A wand guide intended for the use of budding wandmakers, covering woods from around the world, and cores from all known sources, including their traits, preferred wixes, and magical tendencies, and their limitations. we present to you, An Independent Wandmaker's Guide for the Magical World ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Part 1: Wand Woods It’s important to remember that there are a lot of possible wandwoods. Wand woods bind predominantly to someone’s personality, and while they can affect the ease with which someone can cast certain types of spells this is not constant throughout all wandwoods.In this guide we do use woods which are not on Ollivander’s list, but woods which are used by Ollivander will be separated into their own chapter, and the text of what Ollivander said will be italicised.Woods which are said to be used by Ollivander wandshops or other wandmakers but are not included on Ollivander’s list of wandwoods will be placed into a the same chapter as the Ollivander woods and any relevant text will be similarly italicised. Woods from magical plants will be separated into an individual chapter, or section within a chapter in the case of Decorative or Detail Wandwoods to mark woods which are not found in the mundane world.This guide will also list how rare or uncommon a certain wandwood is, and if there are any cores it is best to never bond to it. Part 2: Special Circumstances Wands There are some “wandwoods” which are not, in fact, woods. These are usually due to special circumstances, and are often of only a limited number of their kind. Most commonly in history wands were made of ivory, or bone, though there may have been some use of antler. Stone is not used, even in the modern day, barring the use of carefully enchanted and song-shaped crystals, which are often used for those with very little magical power, who can afford the extortionate costs of creating such a wand.Metal wands are never used, though metallic woods can be used (see Enelysion Wood), due to the way energy builds up in and around them. Even ligno-metallic materials such as Lignified Argentivite often need to be mingled with another (non-metallic) wandwood before they can be used in a wand, and cannot be used in a wand on their own. The only exceptions to these are the metallic woods of Snapping Steel Vine (and variant breeds) and Enelysion Wood.The use of bone, ivory and antler in wands is an ancient one, and while wood is now used in preference there are some very few occasions in which a wand of such materials is necessary to allow a wix to cast, if they have certain magical conditions.Antler is the least used of these, and Ivory has long been banned due to the general lack of legally obtainable Ivory in existence. As such bone is used in preference, with a general favouring of human bone. Due to the restrictions placed on the trade of human remains in the magical world (due to the Dark Magic which can be done with them) there are only a very few wandmakers who can and will make bone wands, and fewer who will truck in human bones. As such it is more common for those who require a bone wand to cast to seek to buy one already made. While it may not suit them perfectly, it will still enable them to cast more strongly than a wand of wood. Part 3: Wood Classifications Not all woods are usable for wands. While many woods can be magically treated to allow them to hold together strongly enough to be carved into a wand, not all woods have enough magical resonance to be able to channel magic, even with a core, which is why this list will not include every wood in the world.There is also the issue of secondary or decorative woods. Some woods, while often of a size large enough to make a full wand, are more preferentially used as a detail wood, or a wood to lend secondary traits to a wand. Such woods include, but are not limited to: Bougainvillea, Oleander, Sagebrush, Rosebush wood and several varieties of vine. Other woods simply do not grow to such a size as to be used as anything more than a detail or secondary wood, such as many minor vines, and some magically created lesser woods such as Lignified Argentivite.Such woods will be listed in a second list at the end of the main section of wand woods, along with a list of woods they bond well with and woods they do not, as well as cores they should not be bonded to, where applicable.Beyond that, all woods will be marked with their commonality in wandmaking, from relatively common to exceedingly rare. Some woods may only be found in certain regions or certain countries, and others may be common almost the world over, due to natural growth, introduced cultivation, or trade. Other woods may be magical, and require special tending, or managing, thus further necessitating separation from common wandwoods. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Chapter 3 - Decorative, Detail and Secondary Wand Woods Not every wand is suited to having decoration, indeed, many do not have additional detail woods. The reason for this is simple: a large number of wands do not need such a thing; most will be perfect without such additions. Very few wands have need of an additional wood, be it to temper some trait, or to add to an almost one-note wand - in all cases one must take care to listen to and observe the wand, and gain a sense for what wood, if any, should be added. If one is capable, the wand will tell them.Most detail woods are added to the handle in some fashion, usually to ensure when the wand’s master wields it they have contact with both woods which comprise their wand - please note that few to no wands contain more than two woods. The exception to the rule when it comes to placement of detail woods is when one is making a wand from two woods which had been grafted together; in this case magical flow will proceed as normal, allowing for one wood to play the role of handle and the other shaft.There are a myriad ways in which one can add a detail or decorative wood, be it a small piece or large and one must consider the nature of the wand itself and the design it needs to be carved to before adding any additional wood. Part 1 - Magical Secondary Wand Woods Alihotsy [Link] * Latin Name: genus Hyaenaxylon Alternate Names: Hyena TreeA magical tree native to Africa, Alihotsy leaves can induce hysteria. It is rather surprising, then, to find that Alihotsy trees seek those of a level headed nature, able to hold their calm well in most any situation. It is also interesting that Alihotsy wands are found quite commonly in the hands of those with Alihotsy allergies, and as a result all Alihotsy wands are well varnished to prevent allergic reactions when matching wands to wixes.Unusual Wix: Level-headed, remain calm even under stress. Often allergic to Alihotsy. Magical Skills: Cheering Charms, charms in general. Associated Dates: Summer Notes: Rare in all places, even in Africa, due to a general lack of wandmaking in most African countries. Androktasiai [Link] Latin Name: Datura androktasiai, Datura x flutterbiensis Alternate Names: When used recreationally “Blake’s Ecstasy”Tends very much towards the unusual; not those who are superior of their company or who are in some way notable, but those who stand out for their oddities and may seem a little detached from the world at large. The wand of daydreamers and the drifting, sometimes the dissociative, wands detailed with Androktasiai are surprisingly skilled at Transfiguration as well as at Illusions; several wixes who wield wands detailed with Androktasiai are registered bird animagi.Very Unusual Wix: Daydreamers, drift a little from reality, may dissociate. Magical Skills: Transfiguration and Illusions. Tends towards Bird Animagi. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: Plant was only recently created and is heavily restricted, limiting availability. A few American wandmakers grow this plant themselves and harvest it while making use of Bubblehead Charms. Askwery [Link] Latin Name: Genus Askweris Alternate Names: Phantom TreeThe tree itself rarely grows large enough for wandmaking, unless one wishes to cut down the entire tree, which generally gives no more than three of four wand-suitable dowels of the Askwerys odd, dull grey wood. This wood is not dissimilar in appearance to driftwood, but very smooth, and with a slight sheen, and works well as a wand for the anxious and nervous. However, as there is rarely enough for a wand without cutting down the tree, it is more common for branches to be prepared in order to provide detail wood for wands instead.Unusual Wix: Anxious, nervous. Magical Skills: Charms and Healing. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: N/A Assassin’s Rope [Link] Latin Name: Liana locusta Alternate Names: Assassin VineTechnically a kind of Vine, being a plant with a woody stem, Assassin’s Rope is rarely thick or woody enough to be used in wandmaking on its own; more commonly it is instead a secondary or detail wood. This wood seeks the self-aware and socially aware, though not necessarily those who are charming; instead those who manage social situations without immediate notice.Unusual Wix: Self-aware, socially aware, social manipulation. Magical Skills: Charms, Healing. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: Rarely used outside the Indian subcontinent, where it is native. Austras Koks [Link] Latin Name: Austras aurora Alternate Names: Tree of Dawn, Foliage FlyAsutras Koks detailed wands seek those with a kind of gentle, lasting strength, who may sway and alter to survive the winds of change, but have firm roots and firm beliefs that will not change easily. The wood adds a curious warmth to any magics cast with the wand, and can be unusually helpful in Healing spells.Rare Wix: A gentle, lasting strength, hard to change the core beliefs. Magical Skills: Warmth, Healing. Associated Dates: Summer Solstice. Notes: Can be harvested from trees and shrubs. Bakkhai Grapes [Link] Latin Name: Vitis vinifera “Bacchus” Alternate Names: N/ALike all Vine wands, these are known to seek those which have a greater purpose and hidden depths; in the case of Dionysian Grape this is especially true - you need only to look at the myth of the Bakkhai to know just how terrible the god of wine and frenzy can be when angered, a great depth to his anger and in his purpose. If anything, Vitis vinifera makes for a much more intense Vine wand than many of its kin, and Bakkhai Grapes only add to this, being the most intensely Vine-like wandwood to add to a wand, and seeking those with far more unexpected hidden depths than any might suspect.Unusual Wix: Intensified traits of Vine , much deeper and more unexpected hidden depths. Magical Skills: Charms, Hexes. Curses if their master is so inclined. Associated Dates: 19th-26th March, 10th December, January and February Full Moons. Notes: See also: Tantalan Grapes, Vine . Furutsubaki-no-rei Camellia [Link] Latin Name: Camellia japonica youkai Alternate Names: Furutsubaki-no-reiLike other wands detailed with Camellia wood, any wood successfully harvested from a Furutsubaki-no-rei Camellia will tend towards wixes who themselves tend female. Similarly, they prefer those who are lively and full of energy, but diverge in that they also seek those with obvious vicious streaks, or tendencies towards fickleness and surprising cruelty. All the same, these wands have a knack for Charms, usually multi-purpose and sometimes for Duelling.Very Unusual Wix: Lively, often feminine-identifying to some degree, quick learners. Can be surprisingly or unexpectedly dangerous. Magical Skills: Charms, often multi-purpose ones. Duelling Charms. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: See also: Camellia. Very rare to find harvested, as one must wait for a branch to blow loose from a Furutsubaki-no-rei, for it to die or pray that a Kodama might gift you a piece; it cannot be harvested any other way. Lignified Argentivite [Link] Latin Name: Argentivus lignin Alternate Names: N/AWhile other Argentivites (Winding and Apollon) can grow to some impressive sizes, Lignified Argentivite rarely grows more than two feet in height, which leaves it a poor material for a wand. It’s high metal content similarly makes it a poor wand material, but it is not unheard of for combination wands. Wands with Lignified Argentivite most usually are found in the hands of those with little, unreliable or erratic magic, with other traits being tied to the other wood used in the combination. Wands using Lignified Argentivite are popular with those who are near-squibs, as they can make the most of however much or little they possess with great efficiency.Very Rare on it’s Own Wix: often weak magically, or have erratic magic. Magical Skills: channelling very little magic very efficiently. Associated Dates: Summer or Autumn Thunderstorms. Notes: Must be mixed with another non metallic wand wood for use in wandmaking. Wands purely of this material are exceedingly rare. Lignified Aureite is becoming a popular alternate form to use. Pursawel [Link] Latin Name: Pieris animus Alternate Names: Pure-Soul BloomWhile a skilled wandmaker can technically make full wands from this plant, one generally does not do so, as the plant is rare enough that harvesting enough wood for detailing is highly unusual, let alone enough for a wand. Generally, wands with Pursawel wood will seek those who thrive only under very specific circumstances, much like the plants themselves.Very Rare Wix: Thrives only under very specific circumstances. Magical Skills: Healing, Charms. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: N/A Snargaluff [Link] * Latin Name: genus Tentaculoxylon Alternate Names: N/AUsually harvested from dead stumps, Snargaluff wood makes for a calm wand with an unexpected flair, and tends to seek those with constantly moving thoughts, who may nonetheless not be very physically active. Adding Snargaluff wood to a wand gives it a surprising skill with hexes and jinxes, though curses depend on the wand core and the will of it’s master.Rare Wix: Constantly thinking, may not be very physically active. Magical Skills: Jinxes and Hexes. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: Hard to harvest and so usually harvested from dead specimens. Splendineel [Link] Latin Name: Hippomane mancinella x Malus pumila hesperides Alternate Names: Common HesperidesWith an ancestry both Toxic and Healing and yet, in-and-of itself, utterly a healer, it is perhaps unsurprising that using a piece of wood from a Splendineel tree in wandmaking will result in a wand well-suited to healing. Such a wand, however, requires a wix of contradictions and who is yet, all the same, at ease and at peace with themselves and their nature - many wands detailed with Splendineel have found their way to the hands of Continental Werewolves, Molossi and Werewolves of the original strain who are at peace with themselves. All the same, it is a very rare wandwood, with only boughs felled by storms ever gifted to wandmakers, who use it sparingly.Very Unusual Wix: Full of contradictions, often considerable ones, which they are at peace with. Magical Skills: Healing. Associated Dates: 25th June-4th July, 23rd-31st December. Notes: N/A Tantalan Grapes [Link] Latin Name: Vitis vinifera "Tantalus" Alternate Names: N/AOccasionally teasing, even mocking, most especially when cored by Dragon Heartstring, wands made with Tantalan Grape Vine are skilled at Charms and seek those with a sense of humour be it lighthearted (most especially when the wand core is Unicorn) or a little darker (more common if the wand core is Dragon Heartstring or one which similarly provides ready power). Interestingly, when used to detail wands it bonds most readily to other Vine-types.Unusual Wix: Intensified traits of Vine , a little more teasing, and sometimes lighthearted and sometimes morbid, depending on core. Magical Skills: Charms, Hexes. Curses if their master is so inclined. Associated Dates: 19th-26th March, 10th December, January and February Full Moons. Notes: See also: Bakkhai Grapes, Vine . Bonds most readily to other Vine-type wand woods. Violet Vine [Link] Latin Name: genus Purpureavinea Alternate Names: N/AFitting its place as a Vine wood, Violet Vine seeks those with hidden depths, especially those who may regularly surprise even their friends. That said, wands detailed with Violet Vine have a strong tendency towards healing magic, and so too does their wix, often being someone to try to mend bridges and try to heal problems between close friends.Unusual Wix: A peacemaker, healing rifts. Hidden depths. Magical Skills: Healing. Associated Dates: 2nd-29th September, or 23rd September-22nd October Notes: N/A Virginia Strangler [Link] Latin Name: Parthenocissus quinquefolia arcana Alternate Names: Magical Virginia CreeperA dangerous magical vine, Virginia Strangler seeks those of great intelligence and with hidden depths, and wands detailed with the wood may lack some degree of empathy, being more willing to fight and harm, especially in defence of those dear to them. Virginia Strangler wands can be somewhat parasitic, and wands utilising it may burnish themselves to a shine with their wixes magic.Very Unusual Wix: Intelligent, with hidden depths. Magical Skills: Highly responsive to their wix. Associated Dates: 2nd-29th September, or 23rd September-22nd October. Notes: Wands with Virginia Strangler will burnish themselves. Ya-Te-Veo [Link - Link] Latin Name: Carnodendra androphonae Alternate Names: “Now I See You”, South American Anthropophagous Tree, South American Man-Eating TreeA dangerous magical plant, wands that make use of Ya-Te-Veo wood are often excellent duelling wands, but may have trouble learning other arts, even when their wix may wish to. Perhaps due to this, most Ya-Te-Veo wands are found in the hands of Aurors, revolutionaries, duellists and wixes of action - none chosen by a wand with Ya-Te-Veo is likely to simply sit back, being much more inclined to jump in and join the fray, for good or for ill.Highly Unusual Wix: Highly active, always wants to be doing something. Magical Skills: Duelling. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: Can have trouble learning non-duelling magics or casting spells for purposes other than duelling. Part 2 - Non-Magical Secondary Wand Woods Aruera [Link] Latin Name: Lithraea molleoides Other Names: N/ADue to the contact poison found in this plant, it is very rarely used in wandmaking, and where it is it is more usually as a small piece of well-varnished detail wood. On those rare occasions it is used as a wand wood on its own it is consistently well varnished to prevent dangerous allergenic reactions and must be well tended and regularly varnished to ensure this. When used in a wand with a venomous core (such as Alicante Venom) the whole of the wand must be varnished, regardless of if there is another wood present, as the magic of the venom mingles with the danger of the wood to create one almost toxic to its own bearer if not correctly insulated.Very Rare Wix: N/A, lack of conclusive data. Wandmakers theorise wands detailed with this wood prefer the unusually - and sometimes unexpectedly - polite. Magical Skills: Healing and curses, and curses which can be used in Healing, in drastic circumstances (e.g. Fiendfyre to burn out infection, Cutting Curses to amputate a cursed limb). Associated Dates: N/A Notes: Varnish should be made to contain antidote, please consult Appendix I for additional information. Due to the toxicity of the plant, many wandmakers avoid it’s use. Bougainvillea Latin Name: genus Bougainvillea Alternate Names: Bougainvillea, buganvilla, bugambilia, bouganvilla, pokok bunga kertas, bougenville, Napoleón, jahanamiya, veranera, trinitaria, Santa Rita, papelilloThose chosen by Bougainvillea wands are highly varied, and it’s often hard to find the linking thread between such people - however, after long years, Wandmakers are relatively confident they’ve identified the factor: changeability. Those chosen by Bougainvillea wands are often highly open to change, be it of themselves or their circumstances or surroundings, rapidly taking in the change, adapting to it, and moving on. Perhaps unsurprisingly, wands detailed with Bougainvillea gain a (sometimes surprising) skill in Transfiguration.Not Uncommon Wix: Changeable and pragmatic about changes to themselves, their circumstances and their surroundings, adapting rapidly and moving on. Magical Skills: Transfiguration. Associated Dates: Drought periods. Notes: N/A Bramble Latin Names: genus Rubus Alternate Names: Bramble, Blackberry, Raspberry, Loganberry and many others.Blackberry wands are uncommon, and often short. Like the plant they come from they are often of a prickly nature, and are often problem wands for stores until they find their ideal wix. Bramble wands are often highly effective at healing magic, but usually handle Gaelic and Old English spells better than Greek. Bramble wands are also highly powerful protective wands and usually end up in the hands of wixes well in need of their effective protection.Uncommon Wix: In need of protection, safety, or a way to fight. Can be prickly. Magical Skills: Healing, DADA. Associated Dates : September 2nd to September 29th Notes: N/A Broom Latin Name: Mainly in the three genera Chamaecytisus , Cytisus and Genista, tribe, Genisteae Alternate Names: Furze, Gorse, Ulex, Whin.An especially prickly plant, Broom (also called Gorse) is a hardy plant, and often choses wixes of a similar level of hardiness. Often used in the making of medieval style broomsticks, the plant has fallen out of favour for the practice, though, it is still used to work charming, enchanting and some old love spells. Broom wands are often used in fire magics and charms, though it can be used in enchanting and shaping magics also.Rare Wix: Hardy, sometimes stubborn. Magical Skills: love spells, charms, fire magics. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: Also used in broommaking. Brugmansia [Link] Latin Name: genus Brugmansia Alternate Names: BorracheroAnother wand wood with healing tendencies, however due to the smaller size of Brugmansias (much like with Daturas) this wood is more commonly seen as a detail or secondary wand wood, rather than a main. While it is skilled in healing - most especially at reducing pain - it tends to seek mediators and diplomats rather than people who are necessarily healers. Other than that, however it often seeks similar people to Datura-detailed wands, due to a close relation between the plants.Unusual Wix: Prickly personality, can be goaded, mediators and diplomats all the same. Magical Skills: Healing, pain reduction. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: Due to the toxicity of the plant, many wandmakers avoid it’s use. Camellia [Link] Latin Name: genus Camellia Alternate Names: N/ACamellias are almost unique in wandmaking with a known and marked tendency to prefer wixes who identify primarily feminine. This does not mean that all masters of wands with Camellia detailing are female or identify wholly as such, but they often lean somewhat feminine on a gender spectrum, or consider femininity key to themselves and their identity. In addition to this, Camellia wands are prone to picking those who are lively and full of energy and tend to rapidly pick up highly effective and multi-purpose charms. Unusual Wix: Lively, often feminine-identifying to some degree, quick learners. Magical Skills: Charms, often multi-purpose ones. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: N/A Datura [Link] Latin Name: genus Datura Alternate Names: N/ADue to the plants rarely growing woodily enough to provide wand wood it could only ever be used as a secondary or detail wand wood, but such a wand would naturally go to someone capable of quite horrific and dangerous things - as, it can be claimed, we all are - but one who will not move to it unless first provoked, poked or goaded to it. The wand itself would likely have great skill with illusions, and, oddly enough, Healing, though only under certain circumstances, and may also seek those of a more prickly personality.Very Rare Wix: Prickly in personality, can be violent when directly goaded, but often passive otherwise, though perfectly capable of horrific and dangerous things, not necessarily magical. Magical Skills: Illusions. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: Due to the toxicity of the plant, many wandmakers avoid it’s use. Grapefruit [Link] Latin Name: Citrus x paradisi Alternate Names: Generally Grapefruit wood is not particularly impressive, and though it can take a fair stain it is rare to find Grapefruit trees of wand wood quality. As a result it is very rarely used and is more likely for the wood to be used as a secondary wand wood, to accentuate the traits of another wand wood. Grapefruit wood in wands encourages a preference for the more sceptical, but beyond that not much is known of it - the variety was only created in the 17th Century, and it is used so rarely since that only scattered reports exist of such wands and of those chosen by such wands.Extremely Rare Wix: Often sceptical by nature. Magical Skills: Healing, elegant, often warmly coloured magic. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: N/A Jasmine [Link] Latin Name: genus Jasminum Alternate Names: Jasmine Jasmine tends to add an elegant touch to wands not otherwise prone to it. A small decorative loop of Jasmine wood on a wand can turn a wand otherwise prone to blunt force to one of forceful elegance, or turn a lively and somewhat quirky wand into a well-behaved one with something of a sense of humour. Likewise, wands with Jasmine detailing tend to appreciate those wixes who are somewhat restrained. Not Uncommon Wix: Aware, and somewhat restrained. Magical Skills: Makes many spells more elegant. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: N/A Liquorice Latin Name: Glycyrrhiza glabra Alternate Names: LicoriceWands of Liquorice are extremely unusual, and require the plant be dug up, to get at the hard woody root. Similarly Liquorice wands are not always especially long, and this can sometimes affect their – usually excellent – magic. Liquorice wands are quite flexible casters, and tend to chose wixes with a strong self-preservation instinct, and have a knack for both Divination magics and Transfiguration, as both arts require a kind of complex thinking which Liquorice wands much approve of.Extremely Unusual Wix: capable of complex thinking, strong self preservation instinct. Magical Skills: Divination magics, Transfiguration, excellent spellwork. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: Due to the fact most Liquorice wands are made from Liquorice roots they are rarely more than ten inches in length. Manchineel [Link] Latin Name: Hippomane mancinella Alternate Names: N/ADue to sheer toxicity, it’s not recommended that anyone cut or burn this tree - the sap causes blisters and the smoke causes powerful irritation, while the fruit itself is deadly on its own, and the leaves have been used to poison water supplies as well as arrows. Thus, wandmakers rarely come into contact with it due to all of these reasons. When they do, it is usually to add detail to an existing wand, and kept under a strong layer of magic-porous varnish. However, due to the blistering sap, and it’s endangerment in Florida, and its being marked as poisonous in most countries it grows in - barring on Bonaire - it is a rarely-to-never harvested as a wand wood.Incredibly Rare Wix: Obliviously dangerous, causing harm without thinking. Magical Skills: Curses, complex charms. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: Due to the toxicity of the plant, many wandmakers avoid it’s use. Due to the extent of this woods toxicity, it is used even less than other known toxic plants. Varnish should be made to contain antidote, please consult Appendix I for additional information. Mistletoe Latin Name: Viscum album Alternate Names: European Mistletoe, Common MistletoeMistletoe wands are extremely rare, due to the difficulty in finding wand-suitable mistletoe of sufficient length and thickness to shape into a wand. More common than not Mistletoe is used in a combination wand – especially with oak – and wands made solely of Mistletoe are so unusual as to be almost non-existent.Despite Lore which claims that Mistletoe wands are dangerous and Dark – usually drawing from the toxicity of the plant – they ignore than it takes a lot of Mistletoe to kill, and that mistletoe has been used in healing before. Indeed, Mistletoe wands are more likely to bring people together, than separate them by death, and many wixes with mistletoe wands have found their dearest friends after being bonded with a Mistletoe wand.Extremely Rare Wix: friendly, though shy, often quite logical, though liable to be rash and not think things all the way through. Magical Skills: Healing, soothing differences and problems between groups, spells to guard against misfortune, especially shielding spells. Is highly effective at curses when applied, and especially so when combined with Oak. Associated Dates: Winter Solstice. Notes: Mistletoe wands are often short in length and slender, due to the plants’ own small size, or found in combination wands, especially with Oak. Due to the toxicity of the plant, many wandmakers avoid it’s use. Oleander Latin Name: Nerium oleander Alternate Names: NeriumA clever plant for clever wixes, Oleander seeks the thoughtful and often considerate, and is truly dangerous in the hands of one whose thoughts tend towards violence. Passable at Healing spells, Oleander wands much prefer to do some measure of harm, or something neither healing nor harming, and often speak to a person who may well be deeply benevolent, but held back by personal issues from doing as much good, or giving as much aid as they might wish.Not Uncommon Wix: Thoughtful, considerate. May wish to do more good than they’re able to, be it for personal reasons, or situational. Magical Skills: Harmful magic and ambivalent magic - that which neither heals nor harms. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: Due to the toxicity of the plant, many wandmakers avoid it’s use. Peony Latin Name: genus Paeonia Alternate Names: PaeonyA spectacular wand wood for long-lasting, stable enchantments, Peony wands often seek those who will be prosperous in their lives, giving rise to a belief that Peony wands make wixes prosperous - as ever, getting it the wrong way around. Despite their good fortune, many chosen by Peony wands may be quite shy, but the strength of their magic is undeniable when witnessed, though they themselves may still disbelieve it - it can usually take a great deal for those chosen by Peony to fully see the extent of their abilities.Unusual Wix: Often shy, often lucky and quite prosperous. Magical Skills: Stable and long-lasting enchantments. Associated Dates: October-December. Notes: N/A Redbud Latin Name: genus Cercis Alternate Names: Judas Tree, eastern redbud, western redbud, chain-flowered redbud (each sub-species)Due to a tendency to burl (form tight knots in the wood grain), as well as rarely growing especially tall or thick (depending on variety) pure Redbud wands are quite uncommon, though the wood may be sometimes used in detailing, on other wands. When suitable Redbuds are found many wandmakers will eke out all they can from it, due to Redbuds more favourable properties, being a wood excellent for complex healing and mind magics, especially when dealing with infections or negative self-perception. As such it often finds it’s way into the hands of those with self-perception problems, or constant self doubt, or those who wish to help, regardless of the effort such help may require.Uncommon Wix: Self-perception issues, constant self-doubt, a desire to help regardless of effort required. Magical Skills: Healing, especially infections and mind magics. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: More common as a detail wood. Sagebrush Latin Name: Artemisia tridentata Alternate Names: Great Basin Sagebrush, Big Sagebrush.Well known for its great and popular reputation in American Wandlore as “the healers wood” Big Sagebrush is known for it’s knack with Healing magic, and other, similarly complex magics. While it is most known for it’s healing ability, it can also be incredibly dangerous, with a native skill for curses which affect one’s physical form and health, often negatively. Thankfully Sagebrush wands tend to chose those of calm and especially patient dispositions, and the wood does not do well when bonded to “fiery” cores, such as dragon or phoenix. However this does mean that if one is cursed by the bearer of a Sagebrush wand one has done something so far against their personal moral code they feel compelled to act.Uncommon Wix: Often very calm and incredibly patient. Often will not act harmfully or malevolently unless they feel they have witnessed something so violently against their personal moral code that they must act against it in some way. Magical Skills: Complex magics, most notably Healing, though it can just as easily work highly complex internal anti-health curses. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: The best wand wood is from specimens over 100 years old. Suicide Tree [Link] Latin Name: Cerbera odollam Common Names: othalanga maram, kattu arali, famentana, kisopo, samanta, tangena, pong-pong, buta-buta, bintaro, nyan, gon kaduru.The Suicide Tree is a deadly plant, and rarely large enough to produce wand wood. When it does produce wand suitable wood it is usually used as a secondary or decorative wood, and can be surprisingly versatile. However it is always and ever best at causing harm and pain, and, though it can be used for other things, it’s stubbornness in this regard often makes it considered a harmful or dangerous wand wood. That said, it is this very property that encourages its harvesting; the addition of Suicide Tree wood to wands which might otherwise be almost pacifistic can make for excellent duelling wands or wands for Aurors.Rare Wix: N/A Magical Skills: Causing pain, making pacifistic woods non-pacifistic. Associated Dates: N/A Notes: Only ever a secondary or detail wood, and always under a thick wood varnish. Due to the toxicity of the plant, many wandmakers avoid it’s use. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Some, in the world, have unusual or troublesome magic, or magic that responds or acts in non-normal ways. In many such cases a wooden wand is insufficient to manage the nature of their magic, and other materials must instead be used. Ivory The oldest material used to make wands, from all the way back in Egypt, Ivory wands do not differentiate by personality as wooden wands do. Once made from Mammoth tusks in Europe as well as Elephant tusks elsewhere, this practice faded once the cheaper and more readily available option of wood was realised. Sadly, this left some wixes in the lurch, as wood is not similar enough to their own biological channels for their magic for them to use, while Ivory, coming from an animal, is.Ivory tends towards rigidity, but can become more flexible depending on how it is carved. Ivory wands vary in length but are rarely terribly long - their length does not speak to confidence as in wooden wands, or at least, not in the same way. In addition, Ivory wands are usually unadorned and are often carved very little, being left as single simple cylinders of ivory. Antler More commonly used in this day and age in place of Ivory due to the restrictions on the harvest and trade of Ivory. Similarly from an animal and not a plant, thus aiding it’s compatibility it is far more readily available, and may even sometimes come from magical sources, which only helps it’s purpose to help one direct one’s magic with it.To quote the most noted work of Daedalus Loch, On the use of Antler in Magicrafting (Obscurus Publishing, Pub. 1989.): The use of antler in magical crafting is varied, dependent on the source. While most antler used in mundane, some is from magical sources, and this can very much affect the magics one can enchant the resultant object with. Most especially this is noticeable if one is carving antler to make a wand - as some wixes magic is unusual and cannot be channelled through wood, and requires some other material [Footnote 1]. The most common antlers used are from mundane deer, or from one of two magical varieties; Eikthyrnir or Patraindeer. All of these are used for a variety of purposes - from knife handles and wand inlays to magical sculpture and creating a full wand. Everything depends on what one wants from the result. Mundane antler is simple enough, taking well to rune-based enchantments and absorbing potion-based enchantments with ease. These will wear off eventually though, but usually after a long span of time, and proving frightfully useful in the in-between. Eikthyrnir antler is commonly used on the handles of the silver knives used by Healer Potioneers, as it’s ability to purify helps to ensure no potions come out toxic. However, it cannot take potion-based enchantment, always purifying the potion before it can be absorbed. Patraindeer antler is the last common source, and is often used in wand inlays and for sculpture, though in recent years it has grown in popularity as a cheaper alternative to crystal wands, for those with such magical difficulties. Ceryneian antler is an uncommon find and has not been studied extensively yet. However, in my personal experience, it takes well to runic enchantment, though it is very easily damaged. Thus, one may see how one might take antler from mundane sources and magical for use. These sources do cause some variation in result, detailed as follows:Mundane Deer - The easiest to get ahold of, mundane antler makes for a solidly reliable wand, with some degree of flex, and should be polished weekly with a cloth made from the deer’s own skin.Eikthyrnir - Eikthyrnir antlers purifying tendencies mean it is almost always bonded to Unicorn Hair, or a Unicorn-Type core, though they have been known to take Caladrius cores. They are incredibly well-suited to Healing, though some with Firebird-Type cores have gone to wixes who became excellent Cursebreakers.Patraindeer - Incredibly protective, Patraindeer antler wands often go to those with Chronic Illnesses (such as Davenport-Nosoi Syndrome, or Suffrirlangitis) and are known for being remarkable aids when it comes to learning the Patronus Charm.Ravendeer - Powerful and adaptable, Ravendeer antler makes for a very intelligent wand, though it can wax and wane somewhat with the season. Excellent for duelling.Peryton - Similar to Ravendeer, though possibly more deadly, Peryton Antler wands go best to those who have had close run-ins with death, and tend to bond more strongly to those going through trying situations. Crystal One of the much rarer kinds of wands, Crystal wands are nightmarishly difficult to make, often requiring one to have Veela, Banshee or Mer ancestry in order to sing a crystal into the right shape and size for the wix, often with the wix present in order to ensure their magical resonances match.However, when matched, a Crystal wand’s resonance to the wix is better than almost anything else, and a superb implement for casting - though it cannot be loaned on or inherited by another, due to its specificity of bonding. Bone Bone wands are amongst the rarest kinds. Very few wandmakers will deign to work on bone, be it animal or donated by a family member and yet, it remains one of the most perfect matches to people with troublesome magic, as well as being notably easier to make and get ahold of than Crystal wands.A bone wand often goes to family - while animal bone can be used, a bone given by a newly deceased family member or donated by a willing family member (the bone is switched out of the arm and then Skele-Gro applied to ensure safe and complete bone regrowth) is among the more likely to bond to a wix. Additionally, bones naturally contain a hollow core, making them ideal to bond to a core.Bone wands are known to pick up habits and tendencies of a family as a whole, when given by a person, and bond very strongly in all situations.
10181078	As Long as I Love You	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Barry Allen, Iris West, Wally West", "Fandom": "The Flash (TV 2014)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Iwalkalone258", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-08T00:00:00", "words": "956", "Additional Tags": "scene at the end of 3x15, 3x15, Cute, Love, Honesty, Acceptance", "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 }	Barry’s eyes open at the feel of someone’s hand over his. He’s still at Starlabs, his shoulder throbbing a little less with each passing second. When he looks up and sees the intruder, a heavy breath of relief washes out of his lungs.“I thought you went home,”“No,” Iris says simply leaving his side to fetch one of the stools off in a corner. “I wanted to but I couldn’t leave you like this.” Her hand is cradling his again before he can push out a response.Truthfully his stomach is still in knots and there’s a dull ache echoing at the back of his head. He knows he’s screwed up and that failure weighs his shoulders down, makes the darkness buried deep inside him want to surface with a vengeance. Closing his eyes he allows himself the luxury of reveling in her presence. The hardest part is knowing that in some way he’s failed her most of all.“Are you okay?” Her fingers comb through his hair as she asks, a hint of sadness mirroring her concern.“No.” His answer is a whoosh of air cloaked in honesty and pain. Iris’s lips purse together before she rests her hand over the area of his chest that isn’t covered in bandage. Tears spring to her eyes and she wants more than anything to change the circumstances, to wear his ring proudly, to let the world know she’s his but she can’t. Not now any way.“You understand why, right?” Her voice is heavy and her eyes search his pained expression. He’s staring at her, his irises jet black, his eyes rimmed red.“I do but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.” She dashes the lone tear wandering down her cheek away, and shakes her head in a back and forth motion.“I’ll be your wife one day Barry. I want that, more than I can possibly express but I…” She opens and closes her mouth trying to find the right words to express her feelings. “I don’t want fear propelling you, propelling us.” Her heart sinks to the bottom of her stomach, her hand tightening over Barry’s and she doesn’t wipe the next tear that escapes.“I want you to ask me because it’s the right moment, the right time…for both of us.” Barry nods wrenching his eyes away from her face to stare up at the ceiling, he can’t bear to look at her knowing he’s the reason for her answer. He loathes seeing tears come to her eyes. He hates knowing he’s caused this outcome. Fear. The word is bitter in the back of his throat. His own fear made all of this happen. Fuck. Emotion is livid in his chest, thrashing around its confines. It’s not the end, he tells himself, it’s only the beginning. It has to be.“I love you,” He murmurs glancing back at her. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything,” He repeats the same statement from their conversation earlier in the corridor outside of the cortex and it rings just as true.“I know,” She brings his hand to her lips and presses the softest kiss to his knuckles. Water falls out of his eyes at the telling gesture because he does know, he does know that she loves him just the same. His nostrils flare as he releases a puff of air wondering how he could’ve tainted their relationship the way he has, let Iris down the way he has.Iris pushes off the stool and leans over to place her lips over his. It’s comforting to know that through all his screw ups he still has her strength to lean on and she’s still standing proud beside him. That’s when his other hand comes up and twists in her loose curls, holding her to him. A part of him is afraid, he’s so afraid but he buries that fear. He’ll sacrifice his own life for her, no matter the consequences because she’s everything to him and he can’t survive without her. He can’t imagine a way to survive without her. She’s not only his heart, or his soul. She’s woven into the very fabric of Barry Allen.Her mouth moves over his slowly, it’s not meant to be heavy. She wants to convey herself, to make sure he understands why she’s saying no for right now, why this is the only plausible answer.“I’m going to do it right,” He whispers into the kiss. “I swear it.” When Iris pulls away she stares into his eyes, and cups one of his cheeks. She rubs her nose against his slowly, her eyes filling with tears again because she doesn’t doubt him for one second.“Let’s get through the next three months first,” He doesn’t respond, he doesn’t make any sort of movement. This woman, this gorgeous, strong woman is his and only the promise of her becoming his wife settles a nerve inside of him.Now more than ever he plans on stopping at nothing to defeat Savitar. Iris kisses him again, her hand splaying over the uneasy chaos of his heart.“Lay with me?” he asks when she pulls back to rest her forehead against his.“Always.”A plan to save Wally is already forming in his mind but for right now, for right now all he needs to feel is the heavy press of Iris’s frame against his, the steady and safe knock of her heart. Barry makes room on the bed and she climbs on beside him. Her leg curls around one of his and she rests her head on the center of his chest. The future might be unclear but his love for Iris West will never be.
10156856	Worth	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester (briefly)", "Fandom": "Supernatural", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by mochaaaa", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-07T00:00:00", "words": "976", "Additional Tags": "Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressed Dean, Suicidal Dean, Implied/Referenced Suicide, he doesn't do it though, sam doesn't even have dialogue, Crying Dean, dean is a little bit more emotional in this than in canon, just a bit, he cries though, i wanted the destiel to be more ambiguous but oh well, life is too short, Wordcount: 500-1.000, going to bed now", "Relationship": "Castiel/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 }	It was just like any day in the bunker, at first. Cas came into the kitchen, as usual, to fill his coffee quota. Sam was on his laptop, reading something about a possible case. Castiel wasn't paying that much attention, if he was being honest. He instead tiredly sipped on his coffee, when, suddenly, he got an unbearably intense feeling of something being wrong. For some reason, everything just felt completely and utterly off. Not right. It was like the wind was knocked right out of him. Cas couldn't explain it. Not until his mind flashed to Dean.Dean. Something was wrong.Castiel had this kind of feeling every time something happened to Dean since he had pulled him out of the Pit. Surprisingly, the bond between his grace and the human's soul still held. He didn't have time for that, though, not when something was wrong with Dean. He set his mug down, without warning, and immediately made a beeline for Dean's room. "Hang on." He didn't even notice that Sam had left the room a few minutes ago. The feeling grew, and twisted into sheer panic as he reached the hallway. He burst into a sprint, and slammed into the door, only to find it locked. The angel pounded on the door. "Dean! Dean, please open the door!" No response. He persisted, still. "Dean, are you alright? Open the door! Dean!" His voice cracked a bit at the end, practically begging. His mind swirled with the possibilities as the anxiety continuously piled up like bricks. After sitting in silence for moments which felt like hours, he began to turn to go get Sam. But, before he could, the door opened. There stood Dean, perfectly fine. At least, he appeared to be, until Cas really looked at him. His eyes were puffy and red, like he'd been crying. A lot, at that. Then Castiel's eyes flickered behind Dean, to his bed. There, on the bed, sat a fully loaded handgun, safety off. Cas' eyes widened, his stomach dropping with the realization. He stepped forward towards Dean, who flinched back. Cas stopped, then approached slowly, steadily enveloping Dean in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry, Cas. I'm so, so sorry." He wrapped his arms around the angel. "Dean-" His voice was thick, and it pierced the awful silence. "I was gonna do it, Cas." Dean swallowed, and pulled back, looking Castiel in the eye. "I just-I couldn't do it anymore. I felt like I just can't-couldn't, whatever-do it anymore. Everything, it just feels so damn heavy, Cas. With Mom, Lucifer and his kid, you almost dying... it just keeps repeating. We're cursed. Every time our problems finally go away, they reappear. It's not worth it, anymore. What good am I if I can't even protect this Godforsaken world for more than an hour, let alone protect my brother?" The tears started again. Cas swallowed. "Dean. You have absolutely no idea the agony I have at the thought of you ending your own life. You have absolutely no idea how much you mean to me, Sam, and every person on this planet, as you've saved all three more than once. Dean Winchester, you mean more to me than anything, whether you like it or not. You have taught me what standing up for what you believe in feels like, and what standing up for what you love feels like. Dean, I love you." As Cas poured his entire heart out, Dean processed what he was saying, and it was like the faucets in his eyes were instantly turned up all the way. Dean went back to hug the slightly shorter man again, and closed his eyes. He didn't say anything. Dean didn't say how he felt, that just wasn't him. Instead, he tried to show Cas. So he kissed him. It was sudden, but he wouldn't have called it the cliche "fireworks" type of thing. Dean just felt like all the bad thoughts that had haunted him for over a decade (maybe two decades, even) were put on mute. And Cas, Cas felt what he had been missing. It felt like his grace was just humming, shimmering, peacefully. The two sat there, and took each other in. It took Dean pulling away for air to end it. Cas looked at Dean, who fixed his gaze at the ground. Castiel tilted his head, worried he did something wrong until Dean raised his head and cleared his throat. "Do you-do you want to sleep in here tonight? I sleep better with someone next to me, but if you don't want to..." Cas immediately nodded, Dean picking up the faint smile on his lips. "I would like to accompany you." It was not sexual to either of them, not after what they just went through. Dean felt protected, and allowed himself to be vulnerable for once. He doesn't even remember the last time he let Sam see him like that. Cas, on the other hand, felt relieved that Dean was really letting him in. He was tired of Dean trying to be the one to save everyone else, not once stopping to help himself. That would break anyone, even Dean. Tonight, though, Castiel helped Dean take that burden off. In the morning, Dean figured he'd freak out and not know what to do with himself. But he didn't freak out. He still had the angel wrapped around him, and he felt safe. Dean smiled. Except it was a real one. Not a fake grin shot at Sam after flirting with a nameless, faceless waitress at a tiny diner in a forgettable small town. Not the maniacal kind he wore as a demon, after spilling the blood of the innocent. A genuinely content smile stretched across his face. For the first time in years, Dean Winchester felt happy. He had his angel.
10119770	Accidentally	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor, Jess the Secretary (Supergirl TV 2015), Alex Danvers", "Fandom": "Supergirl (TV 2015)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "2/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-06T00:00:00", "words": "1,409", "Additional Tags": "Prompt Fic, slightly nsfw if you squint, now a multi-chapter fic cause yall are convincing, AU, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, there's a little bit of swearing", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers & Lena Luthor", "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 past closing time at L-Corp and Kara had been pacing anxiously in front of Miss Luthor’s door for the past 15 minutes debating whether or not it was worth it to actually have her boss personally fire her, when she could simply leave now and never show up to work ever again, thus avoiding the most awkward conversation of her life. Either way, Kara knew this was her last day working for L-Corp.After catching for the second time the curious glances Jess was giving her as she cleaned up her desk and left for the evening, Kara steeled her nerves, yanked the door handle, and entered her boss’ office.“Miss Danvers,” Lena Luthor quickly said as she rounded her desk,“Do you know why I called you in here?”Kara visibly blushed. Nervously adjusting her glasses and clearing her throat,“Um, because I accidentally um, sent you a nude,” she stuttered out, staring intently at the floor and completely missing the fact that Lena had pulled out her favorite bottle of wine and two glasses.“Accidently?”Kara looked up when she heard her boss cautiously answer back, catching Lena pause, wine dangerously sloshing in the glass she had been pouring, noticing that her cheeks seemed visibly redder than they had been when Kara first entered her office.“I, um…”Kara paused as her mind quickly filled with new possibilities. Wait does she think I sent it on purpose? Did she want it to be sent on purpose? Oh Rao, is she interested in me?!“Kara?”Kara’s eyes quickly snap to Lena’s, noticing a certain level of vulnerability behind her usually determined emerald gaze.“I was drunk?”Kara visibly winced at her own words, seeing Lena’s eyes widen. Great, now she not only thinks that you’re a creep, but also an alcoholic one.Kara watched in amazement as Miss Luthor regained her composure,“Do you always send racy pictures to your superiors when you’re drunk Miss Danvers?” she asked, her eyebrow raised and her eyes sparkling with mirth.Kara opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her mind, on the other hand, was overflowing; Oh my Rao is she flirting with me?!? Ugh she’s so sexy when she does that eyebrow thing. Am I still going to be fired? Wait what?!Lena watched in amusement as Kara clearly struggled to form a coherent sentence. She decided to go easy on the poor girl; clearly Kara needed more time to decide her feelings.“Well, seeing as this was all a big misunderstanding, you may leave now Miss Danvers. Sorry for keeping you at work so late.”Kara, glad to finally have a reason to leave the suddenly very warm office, quickly made her way to the door.However, just as she was stepping out, she heard Miss Luthor call out,“But if you do decide to send another one, maybe then I will have a good reason to keep you here so late.”Kara definitely did not trip into Jess’ desk as she made her way to the elevator. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Back at her apartment, Kara winced as she put an ice pack on the surprisingly large bruise blossoming on her hip. She had hoped that by changing into comfy clothes and by re-watching episodes of Parks and Recreation, she could forget about the embarrassing events she had just gone through, but alas, it seemed as though her mind had other plans. “Gosh darnit” she muttered under her breath, mentally replaying what had happened at L-Corp just a few hours before. Was Lena being serious? Why does it matter so much if she was being serious? Geez get a grip Kara. “Ugghhh why is everything so confusing,” she said, shoving her face into the nearest couch pillow and groaning. The door of the apartment suddenly flung open, “I come bearing pizza! You better be ready for the most epic Sister Night Kar!” Kara fell off the couch, startled by Alex’s sudden entrance. “Ow! Son of a – “ Kara squeaked, suddenly finding herself stuck between her couch and the coffee table, her already bruised hip throbbing from hitting the floor. “Oh my God Kara are you ok! You almost swore!” Alex exclaimed, tossing the pizza box on the counter and rushing to her sister’s side. “Hold on let me help you up.” Alex’s eyes widen, Kara’s shirt had ridden up in their attempt to get her back up, leaving the massive bruise on full display. “Holy shit” Kara hastily tried to pull her shirt back down, but Alex quickly grabbed her hand and crouched down to get a closer look. “Dear god who did this to you!? Give me a name right now so I can go punch the living daylights out of them!” Alex was seething. “No one fucking hurts my baby sister!! How dare th-” Kara quickly interrupted her, “No no Alex this was my fault! No one did anything! I was just really clumsy an -” “Clumsy?!! Are you kidding me Kara! It looks like you’ve been hit by a fucking train!” “I just ran into a desk…” “A desk?! A desk did this to you? For fuck sakes Kara, your bruise is the size of Texas! What the hell happened to make you run into a desk that hard?” “I, um, well, Miss Luthor said something and I…” Kara stammered, her cheeks reddening at the memory of Lena’s words. “That bitch! Kara I swear to god if she said something mean to you I will literally kick down her door and-” “Alex stop! What she said wasn’t mean!” Kara exclaimed. “What?” Alex frowned. “Well then what did she say? Clearly it was something big seeing as it looks like someone spilled an entire can of dark purple paint on your upper leg.” “Umm” Kara stared at floor avoiding her sister’s inquisitive stare, her entire body was flushed red, her cheeks turning especially crimson in embarrassment. Alex sighed and guided her sister back onto the couch knowing that it would take time before she got a clear answer. “Look we can talk about it later. I don't want the pizza to get cold.” Kara immediately perked up at the mention of food. Alex, getting up to bring the pizza back to the couch, rolled her eyes knowing that Kara wouldn’t be able to talk about anything while she inhaled all the food. For now the older Danvers was happy to snuggle with her sister and eat pizza. She knew that Kara would eventually tell her. After a few episodes, the pizza now long gone and the sisters comfortably wrapped in a heap of blankets, Kara finally turned her face towards Alex and quietly told her everything that had happened. After a beat, Alex spoke up. “So you’re telling me you sent a nude to your boss, didn’t get fired, and then ran into a desk after she basically told you that she wouldn’t mind if you sent another one?” “Yup” Kara mumbled as she burrowed her face deeper in the blanket. “Oh Kar” Alex cooed as she hugged her sister, “it’s okay. I’ll be there for you no matter what you decide to do.” Kara sighed and pulled her sister closer. “But that’s the thing Alex, I don’t know what I want to do.” Alex paused, she knew exactly what it felt like to question yourself and your feelings. “Look, Kara, I’m not telling you to do anything but from what you’ve told me, Lena is clearly interested and so are you. I know you might be a little bit confused with your feelings, but I know you Kara, and drunk or not, you’re not the kind of girl that just goes around sending nudes to people you’re not interested in. There’s clearly more between you two than you might think. ” Kara closed her eyes and sighed. Deep down she knew that Alex was right; that was the first time she had sent someone a nude, and as much as she thought about it, she couldn’t find a single shred of regret about having done it. But this is a conversation for another day she thought. For now she was fine with enjoying the rest of her night watching cheesy television shows with her sister. Kara was definitely not thinking about Lena’s green eyes, or her hands, or her lips, or just how easy it would be to snap another picture and send it to her . Nope. Not at all.
10193891	Playdate	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Sugawara Koushi, Sawamura Daichi, Oikawa Tooru, mentions of Iwaizumi", "Fandom": "Haikyuu!!", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by xanny_devito", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-09T00:00:00", "words": "6,298", "Additional Tags": "Voyeurism, Threesome???, Dd/lb, Daddy Kink, Choking, Mentions of bruising, Heavy Daddy/Little elements, Dom Sugawara Koushi", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Oikawa Tooru/Sawamura Daichi, There isn't really Oisuga srry, I mean they're both there doin nasties w/ daichi but they dont nasty w/ each other", "Series": "Daddy's Boy", "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 a telltale whine, one of impatience and frustration, that keened through the apartment; Daichi sat on the couch, Suga next to him with a plate of food that he was trying to get Daichi to eat. It was well past lunch time, and the other's slippery ways had gotten him out of sitting down for a meal for a long while. But Suga couldn't be fooled. Daichi's sudden need for a mid-day bath, to do his hair, to spend time picking a cute set of panties and a teddy, it was all a ruse to avoid having his lunch, something Suga was all too familiar with. "Baby, you need to eat." He goaded, placing a square pillow in Daichi's lap and the plate on top of it, despite his crossed arms and the pout on his face. "Please? I need you to eat. Be good for me." Daichi huffed out a sigh again, unimpressed by Suga's soft prying. "I don't want to. I want Tooru to come over." "He is, princess." Suga sighed, petting over Daichi's hair gently. "He's coming soon baby, very soon. But if you're going to play all day then I need you to eat so you have all the energy you need to have fun with Tooru." He hoped it was enough to convince him, and he relaxed marginally when Daichi seemed to relent. "...Okay...I will." He muttered, picking up his fork to go in on the spaghetti that had been leftovers and saved for lunch. "Only because Daddy made me garlic bread, too..." He added stubbornly. Suga sighed, relieved, and leaned to give Daichi a kiss on his forehead. "That's my sweet boy. Thank you for being so good for Daddy." He hummed. "Now, when you finish up, we'll get the bed ready for when Tooru gets here." Daichi did light up at this, washing down his first bite with the glass of overly sweet cherry flavored juice that Suga hated but spoiled him with anyways. "Really? You wanna watch today, Daddy?" It was more typical for Suga to shoo Daichi and Tooru into the bedroom, Daichi's safe haven plenty roomy enough for them to toy with each other on every available surface and have a good time. But sometimes Suga wanted to watch, sit off to the side and watch them giggle and mewl with each other in their adorable but lewd reverie. He never engaged with them, not when Tooru was still there, only sat off to watch and maybe stroke himself off, calling Daichi over to lap up the mess from his length. However, most every time, when Tooru left, Daichi would need a healthy dose of cock, for Tooru hardly ever fucked Daichi, and his lover needed that deep seated satisfaction after being so playfully pleasured. Tonight he would indulge himself, since Daichi had been on a very intense little streak and hadn't had a normal day in quite some time. "I do want to watch tonight, princess. I haven't watched you and Tooru play in a long time." He chuckled. "So make sure you eat up. Tooru will be here soon, and we want to have the bed set out." Daichi obeyed easily, ignoring the growing heat in his belly to finish his food; once he was nice and stuffed, the plate cleaned, he handed it off to Suga and scurried off into the bedrooms to collect his scattered collection of his and Tooru's favorite blankets, stuffies, and pillows. When he came back, he was thrilled to see Suga pulling the fitted sheet over the sofa bed, soft pink and baby blue clouds scattered over the fabric. He went about setting everything up nicely, making sure he and Tooru could nest happily in the fluffy duvets and soft velvety blankets, the collection of down pillows that Suga had bought him interspersed throughout. He looked quite proud of his arrangement. "I wanna watch Disney today." He cooed, rocking up and down on the balls of his feet, the sheer fabric of his teddy swishing along his hips. Suga's eyes were fixated, but he didn't allow himself to touch. Daichi always liked to wait until Tooru arrived to cum for the first time, so Suga couldn't give him a quick fuck. "That sounds good, sweetheart. Why don't you go into your room and pick out the DVDs you want, and Daddy will get one started?" Suga hummed, sitting on the arm of the couch as he watched Daichi practically bouncing out of his skin. He received a nod in response, and his baby was off, likely intensely scrutinizing which movies he and Tooru should only half watch. He came back soon with four different films, and Suga randomly picked Brave to start out with. Daichi wasn't about to stand there and wait, so he took it upon himself to crawl into bed, eyes fixated on the movie while he waited for Tooru. It wasn't half an hour later that the door clicked open, and Daichi lit up, sitting from where he was curled up. "Tooru!" He called, reaching out with both arms in an excited grabbing motion once his friend rounded the corner. Tooru was wearing what was no doubt one of Iwaizumi's shirts and a pair of very tiny cotton shorts, thigh high socks decorating his lovely long legs. Daichi felt his heart skip, and he could already feel his cock getting hard. "Kisses! Kisses!" Tooru was quick to satisfy, cooing out a mantra of "Dai-chan, missed you so much~." He practically fell into Daichi, hips slotting between the other's soft thighs as he gave in to the onslaught of kisses. They were sweet, wet little things, their tongues meeting and tasting while their lips pressed and rolled nicely. Daichi mewled as he clung to the other, eyes only half lidded as they renewed their affinity for each other's flavor. "Missed my Tooru..." Daichi whined, rocking his hips softly against the other's, feeling the action returned. He knew that neither of them could ever wait, and the straining of his dick inside his lace panties was proof. Tooru giggled, kissing at the corner of Daichi's mouth before licking into it again, letting their tongues slide and press against each other before he pulled back with a soft smack. "Missed my Dai-chan too! I haven't seen you in four whole days!" He whined, still giving Daichi the slight friction he needed. "Has cranky old Kou-chan been treating you right? He's being nice, right?" Daichi nodded. "Daddy is so nice. He's gonna watch us today!" He crooned, and Tooru looked up to confirm that yes, Suga was stationed in the upper corner of the bed, pants bulging much to his delight. "That's good! We always make Kou-chan cum lots, don't we? It's ‘cause we're so cute." Tooru giggled. "But I wanna cum right now, Dai~. What should we do?" Daichi hummed, spreading his thighs just a bit more. He moaned when Tooru's thrusts got a bit firmer, and he responded accordingly, rocking up so their clothed dicks rubbed together deliciously. "Um~...Want me to suck you? I really~ miss your cum, Tooru." He whimpered. Tooru could only pout. "But Dai...You always cum when you suck me, and I want your first load..." He huffed, leaning down to lick over one of Daichi's rapidly hardening nipples. Suga chimed in then, his sweatpants having been pulled down, his hand wrapped over his aching cock. "Why don't you suck each other at the same time then? Then you can both have each other's loads." He cooed. "Make sure you share afterwards, too. Don't be selfish." Daichi grinned, more than thrilled with the idea. "Let's do it! Then we can share like Daddy said." He giggled. "Gimme your cock Tooru, I want it~..." Tooru wasn't about to deny his Daichi anything, so once they had both settled on their sides, lying opposite ways, he tugged Daichi's thong off. He could feel the other pulling down his shorts, though there were no underwear to move aside. Neither wanted to dally, and both had a cock down their throats in seconds. Neither had sensitive gag reflexes, so they began gently but deeply thrusting right away, their moans gurgled and punctuated by the thick heads rocking into the back of their throats. Suga watched as their hips moved together at first, and slowly dissolved into more erratic thrusts; it was a delight to watch, both of them pulling out to where only the head was still suckled between their lips, and Suga could pinpoint the exact moment that the both of them began to spill into the other's mouth. They both moaned and whined so sweetly, addicted to the taste. After cheeking the sweet loads, they both began to leave soft kitten licked over the slits, helping the other ride out the orgasm to the very last shivers of pleasure. Tooru was even able to coax out one last dribble of cum from Daichi's pulsing dick. "Now that you've both creamed like good boys, share." Suga crooned, still stroking so lazily it was as if he hasn't just watched them go at it so lewdly. Never one to disobey, they both rearranged themselves, lying down so they were facing each other again, bare cocks rubbing together even though they were softening. Tooru was first to initiate, prying Daichi's mouth open with a thumb before letting the load he'd collected drip into the waiting lips. Seeing it mix with his own cum that coated the other's tongue made him shiver, and he dipped down to start licking it out again. "How does it taste?" Suga inquired, feeling a tightness in his belly that told him he'd soon be adding to their delicious snack. Daichi spoke up once most of the cum had been lapped up from his mouth, even though he was already chasing Tooru's mouth again. "So yummy, Daddy! I want more and more." He cooed, delighted when Tooru spit the flood of cum into his mouth again. "Do you wanna taste too Daddy?" Suga knew he shouldn't; he never got involved, but he wanted to feed Daichi his load, and he figured it couldn't hurt to get a taste of their treat. "Just this time, baby boy. Come here. I'm gonna give you mine, and then you can give me a taste." Daichi moaned in excitement, tongue licking over his lips as he held his and Tooru's loads in his mouth and crawled over to Suga. He slid his mouth over the length, though as to not lose his mouthful, he sucked slowly, bobbing up and down all while keeping eye contact with Suga. Tooru was content to watch, loving the way Daichi sucked so hungrily, and he could already see Daichi’s length hardening where it hung between his spread thighs. Suga was nowhere near immune to Daichi’s looks of pleasure, mewls and groans escaping his baby as his mouth was filled; he couldn’t hold on long, and as he felt the pressure build, he wrapped his hand around the other’s throat, squeezing tight as he pulled him off. “Open.” He demanded, feeling Daichi’s pulse race under his hand, the other’s cheeks nice and red. He shuddered when he saw Daichi’s tongue and cheeks coated in sticky white, the lovely flood of cum pooling in the back of his throat. He gave a tense squeeze to his baby’s throat as he pressed the tip of his cock against his tongue, letting his cum squirt into the messy mouth. Daichi was vocal about how much it pleased him, hips writhing against nothing as he moaned desperately. He continued to vie for attention even as Suga coaxed the other up until they were level, moving his hand to grip at Daichi’s chin; his lips were only partially open, trying to keep the cum inside of his mouth so that he didn’t make a mess. Suga inspected his lover then, thumbing a bit of cream from his bottom lip, before he locked their mouths together. They licked into each other needily, passing the mess between them to get a taste, the sounds wet and lewd and enough to have Daichi’s dick throbbing out another release right then. He messed the sheets, but they would be washed anyways, so he couldn’t give a care. Eventually though, Tooru began to whine, unhappy that his toy had been taken away so soon after he’d started to play. There was no point in teasing him anymore, so Suga gave Daichi back the mouthful, only keeping a small swallow for himself to satisfy his belly. “Go give half to Tooru and swallow before you make more of a mess, baby boy.” He shooed, giving Daichi’s ass a resounding smack to send him on his way. He watched as Daichi straddled Tooru’s hips, leaning down and waiting until Tooru had opened his mouth before letting half of their treat dribble into the other’s mouth. They both swallowed and giggled, proud of themselves for being able to fill their tummies with their favorite. They were both wont to get a little tired though, so without prompting Daichi curled up next to Tooru, the both of them clinging to each other with sleepy kisses, and they continued to watch the movie that was still playing. Daichi even dozed for a bit, very sated, at least for the time being. But it couldn’t be kept quiet for too long, and Daichi eventually got distracted, bored of doing nothing and craving more play time. He reached down, rubbing a finger over Tooru’s half hard dick, watching it slowly harden more and more until it bobbed proudly, nice and red and needy for Daichi to touch. He continued to play with it, stroking slowly and smearing precum around, until Tooru whined, obviously not satisfied. “Tooru, let’s rub our cocks together~. Daddy gave me lube, so we can get nice and wet, and it’ll feel so good!” he cooed, and Tooru looked delighted at the idea. “Like you’re fucking me, but without using my hole.” “Oh~! Do it like you’re riding me, Dai~.” Tooru cooed, settling himself on his back; Daichi wasted no time crawling onto his hips, slotting their lengths together side by side. He grabbed the bottle of lube that sat on the bed, squirting some out directly onto their cocks, making a slick, wet mess between them. He didn’t care though, leaning forward a bit for more friction and slowly beginning to rock so that they slid together. “Mm~, feels really good…” Daichi whined. “Daddy look how good it feels~!” He could tell, between all of the lube, that they were both leaking a considerable amount of precum, delighted by how it felt to hump each other into an orgasm. He rode Tooru with an excellent mix of cuteness and raunchiness, his flushed cheeks and innocent demeanor as he rubbed cocks with his favorite friend enough to have Suga reeling. There was a soft moan from where Suga sat, and he drank in the sight before him. He only wished that they liked to fuck each other, because seeing Daichi bouncing in Tooru’s lap nice and full would be a blessing. As it was, he was enthralled, and very much approved of seeing them both get off again. “If it feels so good, why haven’t you cum yet?” he hummed. “Be good, the both of you. You’ve only got a few hours left before Hajime wants Tooru home, don’t waste it senselessly rubbing up on each other.” Tooru moaned sweetly, hands on Daichi’s hips as they both doubled their efforts, grinding harder and faster. “He’s right, Dai-chan~. I want us to cum as much as we can before I gotta leave! Don’t you wanna cum a lot too?” Daichi nodded, feeling close, and he took it upon himself to wrap his hand around both of their cocks, squeezing nice and tight as they both fucked through the tight ring. “Tooru~, feels good…let’s cum together…” he babbled, lips wet as he panted heavily. It was easy for them to reach climax together, both of them squirting over Tooru’s belly. Daichi hardly had any cum left, and would be having dry orgasms for the remainder of their play date for sure, but Tooru had enough for a generous amount, one that Daichi was quick to begin lapping up. In the corner, Suga had pushed himself into another orgasm, one that he wouldn’t distract Daichi with and quickly cleaned up himself; once he was decent and situated, he went off to find a towel for the other two, not wanting them to mess the sheets that they would be taking their nap on. He came back with a warm, moist hand towel, shooing Daichi off of Tooru’s lap where they’d been sharing soft kisses, ordering them both to lie down on their back. “You’re both playing so nicely…But you need a nap. Once you’re clean, I’m tucking you both in so you can sleep.” He hummed as he cleaned them up, wiping the lube and spit from their thighs and bellies. “I won’t send Tooru home tired and cranky.” “I won’t be cranky! I’m not even tired.” Tooru pouted, though he couldn’t hide the way his eyes were drooping shut, and next to him, an already clean Daichi was curling up to him; there were gentle purrs and mewls as he did, and Tooru was weak for him. “But I guess since Dai-chan needs a nap…I’ll take one too…” he huffed. “You’ll sleep too, right Kou-chan?” Suga smiled lovingly, pulling a blanket as well as a fluffy duvet over the both of them; he made sure they were nice and snug, their bodies tangled together as they snuggled face to face. He adored how they slept, noses brushing and hands clasped between their chests, cozy and sweet. “I don’t think so. I’m not very tired. I’ll be in the kitchen baking you two a real snack.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to their foreheads. “Be mindful Tooru, Daichi is already sleeping. Get some rest.” As quiet as he was, he couldn’t stop a very groggy Daichi from squirming, halfway waking himself just to be sure Suga wouldn’t leave him without him knowing. “I love you Daddy…” he slurred, lips pouty and face flushed with the warmth of his and Tooru’s cocoon. “Oh, I love you too baby boy.” Suga sighed, leaning down to give him an extra kiss. “Be a good boy and get some sleep. Tooru is right here.” This seemed to placate Daichi, and he was melting into the bedsheets and breathing slowly within seconds. He always tuckered himself out so much, and Suga watched fondly as Tooru cuddled the other a bit more, the both of them drifting off into a deep sleep. Suga took the opportunity to sneak off, turning the TV off as well as all of the lights except for the one in the kitchen. The blinds in the living room only let in a bit of light, enough that he could keep an eye on his sleeping bundle. He knew they would both be ecstatic over a snack when they woke up, so he set about making some extra fudgy brownies, Daichi’s favorite, especially with some vanilla frosting. It wasn’t hard to make from scratch what with how many times Daichi had demanded his favorite dessert be made for no reason other than he wanted it. They were in the oven within twenty minutes, and he started on the icing once he’d cleaned up. Icing made and in the fridge, he made himself some coffee while he waited for the brownies to finish, hoping all the smells didn’t wake the other two; thankfully, as he wandered in to check on them, they were both sound asleep. The clasp of their hands hand loosened, though they were still just as pressed together as when he’d left them. He stayed to watch for a little while, fingers petting through Daichi’s hair softly as his baby slept. It was rare for him to get to see Daichi and Tooru like this, so he took it in while he could. Not wanting to brownies to burn, however, and unable to use a timer lest he wake them, he was back in the kitchen shortly, watching the pan carefully. They were done in the next ten minutes, and he took them out to cool, almost wishing he could sneak one for himself without getting whine at that he’d cheated and stolen first dibs. He usually only ever ate one or two anyways, but if Daichi didn’t get to try them first, he got very upset. So Suga left them alone, instead sipping at his coffee and going to sit out at the table, messing around on his phone while he waited. About an hour later, after he’d iced the cooled brownies and laid some saran wrap over them, he heard soft shuffling from the living room, and a warm feeling bloomed in his chest. Just to be sure they weren’t shifting around in their sleep, he wandered back out, leaving his coffee in favor of having both hands free. “Hi Daddy…” A slurred, muffled voice came murmuring out from beneath the tuck of Tooru’s chin, as well as a duvet that was pulled up. “Smell brownies…” Suga laughed quietly, amused and endeared at the way Daichi could always tell when he’d been baking. “Yes baby, I made you and Tooru brownies for when you woke up. But how about we be nice and wait for Tooru to finish napping before we have any, hm?” There was a pregnant pause, and Suga could tell without seeing that Daichi was pouting something fierce. He was never good at sharing, unless it came to swapping a sticky mess between himself and another mouth. “Okay…I guess so…” he sighed, almost a whisper. “Good boy.” Suga praised gently, leaning down to kiss into Daichi’s hair, humming at the sweet scent of his shampoo. “Mind if I come and snuggle with you princess?” Watching Daichi and Tooru’s almost angelically childish way of snuggling made his heart ache in the best way, and even if he could just press himself up against Daichi’s back, he wanted to be a part of it. He figured he had his answer when Daichi nodded, unusually quiet due to his remaining sleepiness. Suga stripped his shirt then, rounding the bed so he could crawl in. He burrowed under the blankets as well, curling around Daichi, right up against his back, and wrapped his arms around his waist. “You’re my soft, pretty boy…I love you sweetheart.” He sighed quietly. Daichi was very pleased, being flanked from both sides by a warm body. “I love you too Daddy…” he murmured, sounding as if he’d drop back into sleep at any moment. But he was determined to get those brownies, even if he had to lie there sleepily until Tooru woke up. “Tooru is real tired I think…” “I think so too.” Suga chuckled, petting a hand over the curve of Daichi’s waist, the warm skin a joy to touch. “Hajime said he was up very late last night, talking to someone on the phone…I wonder who that could have been.” There was a pout on Daichi’s face again, he could tell. “I was excited for him to come over. Plus you were at work, and I was lonely. He tried to ask to come over last night but Hajime said no ‘cause he didn’t wanna drive him.” He huffed. “Well, Hajime only gets two nights off per week since he’s full time. You can’t expect him to drive Tooru over that late, baby.” Suga hummed. “He’s here now though.” All the talking had inevitably pulled Tooru out of his sleep, and he squirmed a bit, clutching Daichi tighter as if he would roll away if he didn’t. He didn’t open his eyes, but he searched out a kiss, and Daichi was happy to give it to him, falling into the slow motions of a sleepy makeout. “Oh~, he’s back in the world of the living.” Suga cooed, very invested in watching the two of them kiss each other awake. At one point he thought maybe they’d fallen back asleep with their lips locked, but he could see the working of Daichi’s jaw, their tongues obviously exploring a bit. “You’re both so sweet…” he sighed. This had Daichi moaning softly, pressing his ass back where it was cradled in the curve of Suga’s hips, a tempting silent offer that made Suga’s head spin. He wanted to pull his cock out and fuck Daichi, satisfy him in the way he knew his love needed; but he also knew it would be more fun to make him wait, to add more build up in the form of Tooru lavishing him in sweet attentions. “Not right now baby boy.” He cooed against his ear, kissing right below it. “Daddy will give you cock later. You’re supposed to be playing with Tooru right now.” Tooru gave a whine of agreement, okay with Suga being there but very much wanting all of Daichi’s attention. Their mouths were still occupied, and Suga wasn’t surprised. When they got into a kiss, it was hard to get them out of it, especially a lazy, satisfying one. “See princess? Play with Tooru instead. Daddy will go get you both your brownies and some milk, and then I’ll start another movie.” He hummed, giving Daichi’s ass a firm grope before he rolled away and got out of the bed. The arrival of brownies would break them from their fun, and Suga would just be glad to get some more food into Daichi. He plated up two brownies for each of them, not even bothering to put them on separated plates, and poured them each a glass of milk. As much as he loathed them, he plucked two straws out as well, and dropped them into the glasses before bringing everything out. Much to his delight, they’d both sat up, and while they were still nice and bundled, pressed side to side as tightly as they could get, it was easy to hand them their snack. “Now, which movie would you like?” He asked, going over to turn the TV back on and change out the DVDs. Daichi chewed at his lip in thought, still pink cheeked and hazy from sleep and good kisses. “Um~…I wanna watch Cinderella.” He murmured, smiling when Tooru nodded in agreement. Suga popped the DVD in and got the movie started, going to grab himself a brownie and some coffee before settling into his corner of the bed, leaving the other two to themselves. He watched fondly as they started feeding each other small bites of the brownies, sucking off the leftover icing and chocolate from the other’s fingers. There were soft hums and moans of delight, and Suga felt his heart skip a beat at how adorable it was. The brownies vacated the plate quickly, and despite Daichi’s whines for more, Suga didn’t give in; he instead chided him to drink his milk, and then he would be full, not wanting his baby to have a tummy ache like he was wont to have if he continued shoving brownies down. There was wanting Daichi to eat, and then there was letting him get sick. He got them to settle down though, and once the plate and both glasses were emptied, he set about going to get all of the dishes cleaned. He took his time, washing them by hand, and made himself another cup of coffee, checking his phone again on his way out to the living room. When he got there, he clicked his tongue in exasperated fondness for the two on the couch, their inability to keep themselves away from each other’s dicks somewhat entertaining. Tooru was lying on his back, facing the TV, Daichi’s head pillowed on his lower belly as he too watched the movie with a lazy attention; Tooru’s fingers combed through Daichi’s hair as the other had a mouthful of cock, sucking happily for his prize, all while distracted by the movie. It was borderline ridiculous, but something about it had Suga shivering with delight. “You just had a snack baby boy~.” He crooned, settling back in his corner. “He wanted it though, Kou-chan.” Tooru protested, his cheeks nice and ruddy from the pleasure he felt from Daichi’s skilled tongue. “I can’t say no to Dai-chan~. Besides, he wanted cock so I gave it to him. I know he really wants to have his other hole filled, but I know you wanna do it.” Suga chuckled softly, aching to stroke himself off if it weren’t for the fact that he was waiting to fuck Daichi. “That’s right~. Usually I’d wait until you leave, but I’m starting to think my princess can’t wait. After all, I did have to work last night and I was much too tired to make him feel good when I got home~.” He sighed regretfully. “What do you think, sweetheart? Want Daddy to fuck you? Tooru can watch.” Daichi let out a moan, Tooru’s length slipping from his lips. “Yes Daddy! I want it so much…” he whined. “I want Daddy’s dick so badly…” “Well, you won’t get it if you aren’t a good boy and finish what you started.” Suga admonished. “Finish making Tooru cum before you get fucked.” “Yes Daddy~.” Daichi hummed, lying his head back down to continue sucking at the length, pressing his head forward until his nose pressed at the base; he swallowed around it, whining in pleasure when the girth stretched every inch of his mouth. Daichi knew that seeing his entire cock stuffed down Daichi’s throat always made Tooru cum the fastest, and he bobbed his head a few times to add to the pleasure. Within seconds he felt Tooru shiver, a sweet little mantra of moans leaving him each time his dick gushed down Daichi’s tongue, eagerly swallowed without pause. Once he was wrung out and Daichi had cleaned him up, he pulled the other up for a kiss, delighted with the aftertaste of cum that he found there. But Suga was impatient now that his order had been followed through with, and he was pulling off his sweatpants before Daichi even had a chance to crawl over. “Get the lube princess. We need to stretch your hole out.” He hummed, receiving the bottle easily enough; Daichi settled in a straddle over Suga’s thighs, legs spread so that Suga could reach around and finger him. “I’ll start with two, since you’re always nice and pliant for Daddy.” With that, he slicked up his fingers and went through all of the necessary precautions to make sure that Daichi could take his entire length in one go. He knew how much Daichi liked to simply seat himself on a cock, so he took his time stretching him, until his lover was whining petulantly to move things along. “I know baby, I know you want it.” Suga cooed, finally pulling his fingers out. He wiped them on Daichi’s thigh before giving his ass a slap. “Turn around and face Tooru, then sit yourself on my cock. Tooru, you’ll be good and suck Daichi, won’t you?” The thought of having Daichi’s dick rammed into him with each thrust of Suga’s hips had Tooru flooded with pleasure all over again, and he nodded, more than thrilled for the idea. “Mhmm! Dai-chan will cum so fast~.” He giggled, making his way over as Daichi was settling himself, Suga’s length sliding into him easily. Daichi shuddered out a moan when he was filled, and an even louder one when Suga hooked his hands under Daichi’s knees and held his legs wide open, a gorgeous view of his hole being fucked gracing Tooru’s eyes. “Dai-chan! Your hole looks best filled up~.” He hummed, waiting until Suga had fucked a few thrusts into his lover’s hole before leaning forward to envelop Daichi’s cock in his mouth. Every movement of Suga’s hips forced Daichi’s length deeper, and Tooru was in heaven, feeling just how good Daichi felt with how much he was already leaking; he met the thrusts happily, working his tongue and dipping down to receive the other’s cock as deeply as he could. It was enough to have him hard again, and his hand was busy stroking between his legs. Suga was attuned, knowing just which angle to fuck Daichi to rail his prostate until he drove his baby crazy. Daichi was a mess, warbling out moans and gasps as he was pleasured so intensely. Every bounce sent a shockwave of delight through him, and before he knew it, he was reaching behind him, gripping at Suga’s hair as his back arched and he came. Tooru only got a small dribble, Daichi’s multiple orgasms catching up with him, but the way he could feel the other’s dick throb against his tongue was more than enough. Suga emptied himself into Daichi as soon as he felt the other tighten with orgasm, and he heard Tooru moan when he pulled back and could see it leaking out just slightly. “Kou-chan~, you filled him up too much.” He giggled. “He can be cleaned up. Or would you prefer a plug, baby?” Suga murmured, kissing at Daichi’s neck and biting at the already deep, sore bruises from previous days. “Tooru can go get you one.” Daichi shook his head, shivering and overwhelmed. He would need to be simply cuddled for the remainder of the night, and he couldn’t complain. “No plug Daddy…’m done…no more, was too good…” he babbled. “Snuggles…” Suga could only laugh softly, knowing how truly worn Daichi got after being reamed. “Of course princess. Daddy will give you to Tooru and then go get a wash cloth to clean you up, okay?” he hummed, voice a soothingly low canter. He carefully helped Daichi off of his length, handing him off to a very receptive Tooru, before he one again ventured for something to clean Daichi with so the sheets weren’t too messed. He came back to Daichi lying on Tooru’s chest, and he was thankful that he wouldn’t have to move him to get him nice and clean. It was a simple affair, and once he’d tossed the cloth into the wash basket, he made to join the other two, resuming his petting of his lover. They all bundled up nice and snug then, the movie only halfway over, and Suga was glad for it. Regardless of his nap, Daichi was a sleepy sort, and would likely be out of commission for the remainder of the night. A couple of hours later, Tooru did have to leave, and Daichi was too exhausted to protest, only demanding a long slew of kisses and pets before he finally let Tooru leave. Suga never made Daichi clean up the living room bed, and he knew they’d be sleeping out there that night regardless. The only time he forced Daichi to sit up and do anything was to give him water and make him eat dinner that night, and even that got him some whines, even if Daichi was crooning with happiness when his belly was full. It carried on as such, and before Suga knew it, it was bed time for Daichi and work time for himself. “I have to go to work baby.” He murmured as he peppered Daichi with kisses just under his ear. “I’ll only be gone for a little bit. I’ll put on a movie for you to fall asleep to, and leave you a water on the table. Make sure you drink it. You did so much today.” Daichi was doing his best not to nod off, head bobbing every once in a while as he tried to concentrate on yet another viewing of Lilo & Stitch. “Don’t wanna sleep…’m okay.” He mumbled, even as his head tipped onto Suga’s shoulder. “Don’ go t’work…Want my Daddy…” Suga chuckled, stroking through Daichi’s bedraggled hair that still managed to be absolutely lovely. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I have to.” He sighed. “But it’s not a full shift. Daddy will be home to sleep with you in only four hours! That’s not long at all, right?” “Mhm…I guess so…” Daichi hugged Suga tightly regardless, never good at letting him go in this space of mind. Suga could only slightly hope that Daichi wouldn’t have another little day the next day, as exhausting as it was to keep up with. He loved it, but sometimes he did need a break. “You’ll be alright princess. Just cuddle with your blankets and try to get some sleep.” Suga coaxed, glad when he got Daichi to lie down. He wriggled his way out of the bed, making sure Daichi was nice and snug, before he went over to take out the recently finished movie and pop in another. He leaned down to press a kiss to Daichi’s forehead, smiling fondly at the fluttering lashes that threatened to close. “Goodnight baby. I love you.” “G’night Daddy…love you most.” Daichi mumbled, blankets pulled up to his nose. With that, Daichi content and inches from sleep and well taken care of, Suga went to get ready for work, as loathe as he was. He was just happy that Daichi had a nice time, as he always was; as long as Daichi was content, Suga was overwhelmed with happiness tenfold, and was only glad he could please his lover. Noting that Daichi had, in fact, fallen asleep, he gathered his things and slipped out the door, leaving the other to, hopefully, very sweet dreams.
10155875	Love on the Rocks	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Alexandra \"Lexie\" Grey, Mark Sloan", "Fandom": "Grey's Anatomy", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by writewithurheart", "chapters": "1/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-07T00:00:00", "words": "1,845", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting", "Relationship": "Alexandra \"Lexie\" Grey/Mark Sloan", "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 }	Love on the Rocks …It was graduation, graduation from Harvard. It was worth celebrating.It was even worth the cost of the trip to New York and the hotel room. Sure, it was two years late, and her best friend had bailed on her week-long trip in favor of a cruise in the Caribbean with her boyfriend before they started their third year of Med School, but still. She was having fun.That’s what Alexandra Grey told herself as she picked at the cherry at the bottom of her drink.Drinking alone at a bar in the middle of a city she doesn’t know doesn’t exactly speak to happiness. She should have found someone else to drag along with her. Brad. Brad would have been a lot of fun. And that’s true. Except he had a huge crush on her that she didn’t reciprocate, which would have made things awkward. So maybe not Brad.She chews on the stem of the cherry as she stares blankly at the wooden bar. She could have opted for a flashy club a couple blocks over. Heck, that had been her original destination, but no. She’d stumbled on this hole-in-the-wall joint instead. And it seemed to fit her mood better.The warm tones, the friendly conversations, the dart game in the corner…it feels comfortable, safe, like she won’t spend all night trying to skillfully deflect handsy guys who thought they stood a chance. She wasn’t looking for someone to buy her a drink and take her home. She came here to wallow.Let the wallowing commence!“You’re far too pretty to look so sad.”Cherry stem still sticking out of her mouth, Lexie turns to her left, ready to tell the douche hitting on her to get lost. Except he’s gorgeous. That’s the problem. His blue eyes chase the words from her throat and her heart races. He’s tall, muscular and fills out his leather jacket to perfection. He has a tumbler of whiskey and a smile that he probably uses to get in girls’ pants. Based on his face, it probably does.Aware her mouth is open in shock, Lexie shakes her head to restart her thoughts. “Um…thanks?”He’s got a breathy chuckle. “Maybe a new drink will help you feel better.”“Does that line ever work?” She asks, mostly out of curiosity. She’ll take the drink if he’s offering. Mostly, she wants to wallow, but if a handsome man’s flirting, she’ll flirt back.His grin is infectious. Lexie could stare at a grin like that for hours. “Occasionally. Mostly the fact that I’m an amazing surgeon does all the work.”“Oh, yeah? I like how you slipped that in there, like it’s supposed to impress me.” It does. It really does. As someone going into med school with that exact dream, she’s very interested in what he does. And in proving him wrong if he is just using it as a line to pick up chicks. “What kind of surgeon?”If possible, his smile widens even further. “I save lives.”She turns to face him head on. He’s dodging the question. “So what? You’re a cardiothoracic surgeon? A neurosurgeon?”He makes a face at the second option and immediately shakes his head. “No. Neurosurgeons are tools. I should know. My best friend is one.” He looks at her, really looks at her for a moment. “You don’t believe me.”Lexie laughs and swirls her straw around the ice left in her cup. “You still haven’t told me what kind of surgery you do. For all I know, you could be lying. I’ve met lots of ‘doctors’ in bars. Most of them with imaginary PhDs.”“I’m in plastics.” He stares at her, waiting for her reaction.Lexie raises an eyebrow. “And how do boob and butt jobs save lives?”He looks insulted. “I do more than just boobs and butts, thank you very much. I also fix clef pallets, do reconstructive surgery, help burn victims. My work helps people lead normal lives. I’ve restored people’s hearing.”She holds her hands up at his defensive tone. “Okay, okay. Plastics is just as great as neuro.”“Damn straight,” he says gruffly, turning back to the bar and gesturing to the man behind it. A moment later two more drinks are placed in front of him and he slides a glass over. “Mark Sloan.”She stares at his hand. Lexie hasn’t decided if she still wants to continue this little encounter. The surgeon thing is cool, but the man himself…She purses her lips as she looks him over before slipping her hand into his. “Alexandra Grey. Lexie.”“Nice to meet you, Lexie.”And there’s that smile that could melt hearts. It’s a smile that must get him into trouble sometimes. “Is this the part where you ask if I come here often?”He grins. “Well, it does seem like I’m at a disadvantage. You know what I do for a living and I know nothing about you.”Lexie laughs. “I graduated a couple years ago.” He shifts uncomfortably and she sees the question in his eyes. “College. I start my third year of med school in a month.” She takes a long sip from the cup in front of her.She watches for his reaction.“Really? What’s your focus?”Lexie can’t meet his eyes as she sheepishly brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Actually, I want to be a surgeon.”He pauses with the glass halfway to his lips. “Not a neuro surgeon, I hope.”She grins up at him. “I don’t know yet. I just want to save lives.”“Cardio?”“Oh, God no. I mean, that’s cool, but nope. No way I could do open heart surgery. That’s crazy.”The warm buzz of alcohol loosens her tongue and soon she’s laughing more than she has in the last two months. He might be trying to get in her pants, but Mark is funny and charming, and Lexie wants to be charmed. She didn’t think she wanted company tonight. Turns out she was wrong.Only when Mark brushes her hair back behind her ear does she realize how much she’s leaning into him. She stares up at him, her lips parted in surprise. The alcohol in her system leaves her with a pleasant buzz. Or maybe it’s the way his hand lingers on her cheek.The blue in his eyes suck her in as his hand moves to cup the back of her neck. The kiss he lays on her is all-consuming. How he manages to kiss with his whole body, she doesn’t know. It’s not just his lips moving against hers. It’s how his hands shape to her face, how his fingers thread into his hair, how he leans in.Which is why she doesn’t think twice before she lets him take her home.It turns out to be a great idea, because the sex is phenomenal.____________________________“Are you serious right now, Lex?!”Lexie winces at Molly’s scream through the phone, pulling it away from her ear as she walks out of her first class of med school.“You shacked up with a guy for an entire WEEK??”Yeah, okay, so maybe telling her sister over the phone wasn’t such a brilliant idea, but how do you tell your little sister you stayed with a stranger for a week because the sex was just that mind boggling. And not just the sex. There was also talking. And then there was that day he let her watch a surgery.Basically it was the best vacation ever, even if he was just showing off.“Well? What’s his name? Who is he? What’s he like? Was it the best sex ever or what?”“Molly!” Lexie cries, looking around as if anyone else would have heard her sister’s crass words. “Oh, come on! Why else would you spend your vacation in some other guy’s hotel room?”Lexie chews on her bottom lip. “Actually, it wasn’t a hotel room.” She can hear the demanding question in her sister’s silence. “It was his apartment.”“ALEXANDRA GREY! You SLUT!” Molly squeals gleefully. “You slept with a guy so you wouldn’t have to pay for a hotel room!”“What? No!” Lexie grimaces because she actually has done that before, but also because she ended only paying one night for the hotel anyway. “It wasn’t like that.”“Really?”If Molly was here, Lexie would be getting her no-nonsense glare. Lexie drops onto a bench. “Fine. It was sort of like that. But I hadn’t planned on sleeping with anyone that first night. But he was funny and kind. And he’s a surgeon, Mol, a surgeon. Like, honest to goodness, we talked about the coolest surgery he’d even done and he was using all these medical terms. And he’s a really good kisser, like fantastic, and the sex!”Molly sighs dreamily. “God, sounds fantastic. Does he have any hot doctor friends?”“That’s the problem,” Lexie sighs, happy mood evaporating. “Turns out he broke up his best friends’ marriage by sleeping with his wife.”“Oh! Lexie!”“Yeah, I know, I know. But the sex, Mol? The sex was worth it.” She grins. “I even got to watch him perform surgery, which is hot. Way hotter than it has any right to be.”“So when are you seeing him again?” Molly asks.Lexie snorts. “Probably never?”“What! Why not?”Lexie gazes across the Harvard campus at the trees whose leaves are just starting to gently change color. Back home in Seattle, it’s probably raining because when isn’t it. She knows she’s probably never going to see Mark Sloan again. He’s a renowned plastic surgeon, and a man whore by his own declaration. She hadn’t gone into that week with him blind. Heck, they hadn’t even exchanged numbers.“Because it was a fling, Mol. It was hot sex with a complete stranger. I need it after the whole thing with Ed.” Lexie narrows her eyes at her ex where he jokes around with his friends. Turns out what she thought was a nice, nerdy boyfriend, was in fact an ass who liked to talk about their sex lives to his friends and copy off her homework.“But a week of great sex? I could understand a weekend, Lex, but a week? And you just let him go?”Lexie picks up her textbook and stands. “Yes. And that’s it. End of story. I have a medical degree to focus on. Two more years and then I’ll get in internship and then a residency. I don’t have time for a boyfriend. Or fuck buddy or whatever. Can we talk later? I have class in five minutes across campus.”“Fine. But don’t think we’re done here,” Molly says.“Goodbye!” Lexie laughs, shaking her head as she starts across the quad. She has a medical career to kick off and a doctorate to earn. Molly’s happily in love with her military man husband, but that’s not what Lexie wants. Maybe one day, but not now.Now the focus is on school.…
10166192	Victim	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Alexander Hamilton, Maria Reynolds, Elizabeth \"Eliza\" Schuyler (mentioned), James Reynolds, Angelica Schuyler, James Madison (Mentioned), Aaron Burr (mentioned), Thomas Jefferson (mentioned)", "Fandom": "Hamilton - Miranda", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by MusicisChaos", "chapters": "2/2", "completed": "2020-12-06", "published": "2017-04-07T00:00:00", "words": "2,622", "Additional Tags": "Adultery", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth \"Eliza\" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/Maria Reynolds, James Reynolds/Maria Reynolds", "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 had Honor. He had respect. He had... betrayed her."Bitch!" Her husband screamed at her. Thundering footsteps before the door slammed close. She was left weeping in a ball trying to be as small she could be. Her blood could be seen on the floor and on the wall near her. After a few hesitated moments, she slowly got up with the wall supporting her. When she was fully upright she leaned against the wall breathing heavily. Her head swam as she desperately tried to clear it before her husband got back.My name is Maria Reynolds. I love my husband. He provides for me. She thought over and over before she could get off the wall without feeling faint. She went through the motions that she usually did after a "necessary" beating from her spouse. Go to the bathroom. Wash her face, wash her body, patch up the wounds so they don't get infected. Redress before James comes back and pretty her face with make-up so her face looked untouched. The secrets it held under a thin coat of powder: the different colors her skin held, the marks and scars, the helplessness. Move to the kitchen to start dinner. James would be extremely angry if his plate is not full when he gets back.But he didn't come back. Not that night or the night after. Two days after her last encounter she hid in their bedroom and ate some of the dinner she made previously. She ate quick incase James came back, one of the rules of the house was James ate first. She broken it once, she gained a broken rib in return.The fourth day with no sight of James started to worry her. James was needed to provide for the household. Who to go to? Who to go to? Repeated in her head. Alexander Hamilton! He is the Treasury Secretary. He could help me if I asked? Right? Oh we need money soon. James didn't trust her with any currency and had a watchful eye on her when buying the groceries. They were running out of food with her continuing to make breakfast, lunch, and dinner in case James came back suddenly. She checked her make up so no spots were showing and grab her coat before going to where she heard Hamilton lived."I know you are a man of honor. I’m so sorry to bother you at home, but I don’t know where to go, and I came here all alone…" She tried off trying to get some more courage to ask for the money she needed. "My husband’s doin’ me wrong, beatin’ me, cheatin’ me, mistreatin’ me... Suddenly he’s up and gone! I don’t have the means to go on."Her body flooded with happiness at the offer of $30. It was more than she seen before since being married to James. He even offered to walk her home so she was safe. "You're too kind, Sir.""This one’s mine, sir." She stated a block later in front of a door.“Well, I should head back home,” Hamilton started to say before Maria blushed and quickly pulled him into her bedroom. He is willing to help me. He's kind, he treats me well. To show my gratitude, right! James always said if I needed to show I'm thankful spread my legs... "Stay?" She asked as her legs were spread on the bed. He looked conflicted, looking between the girl and the door.Did I do something wrong? Will he beat me? She slowly rose into an almost sitting position on the bed, opening her mouth to say sorry. She was pushed back before any sound could come out, lips silencing her voice.He was amazing! So gentle when ever doing something together, making sure she was comfortable and always was there when she needed to cry. James came home two days after the first visit in an angry rage. She was barley conscious when he passed out on the couch after beating her. When James went to work, she went to Hamilton.Usually their meetings ended with some imitate moments but it was a nice way to forget. To pretend she was loved. He would kiss each scar and bruise when they we're being lazy and slow. In one meeting, Hamilton was more affectionate than her whole life with James.It was the best few months of her life. But like all good moments it was destroyed.He doesn't want to see me any more... Did I do something wrong? I thought he was happy, I though- She didn't notice the time until the door slammed open with her husband marching in. Dinner wasn't started yet and she could feel herself tense again. Mistakes, always Mistakes She thought she was smart. Smart enough that she cleaned up all evidence of Hamilton. She missed a condom that was under the bed. She forgot James liked to inspect to make sure she cleaned everything just right. But he never checked under the bed, she never thought he would willingly go on his knees with his face so close to the floor. But it was her fault, for she missed the condom under the bed."WHO WERE YOU FUCKING!" James exclaimed. Never ask, but ordered an answer.She stayed quiet, she stayed loyal. She only muttered "Alexander" when she was close to being knocked out. It was over an hour in of the beating when she unconsciously asked for him."Alexander? Alexander Hamilton?" James paused in his assault. She showed no signs of affirming the statement. "ANSWER ME!" He commanded kicking her hard in her stomach as she lied on the ground. She grunted as she gave a weak nod. "Now that was all I asked." James stormed out of the house again. She would try to move but just breathing hurt. She faded in and out of consciousness with no knowledge of how much time as passed. She warned him. She tried to at least. She sent her letter and just prayed that Alexander got it. James knew. He knows and that is dangerous. All my fault. She hopes Alexander got her letter, got her warning before James corners him.Bang! The door is slammed open with an angry Alexander. She's scare for a moment. Will this be when he beats me? Thud! The front door is closed.He raced over to where she was in her bedroom as she cringed from the door slamming open again before shutting. Alexander gets right up into her face."How could you!" He screamed."No, Sir!" She pleaded. She looked pitiful, pathetic. She was half dressed when he came in and you could see it in her face how sorry she was. "Please don't go, sir!" She still longed for his company."So was your whole story a set up?" He sneered at her. "I didn't know about any letter!" She sobbed as she was confronted. She really didn't know. Until James had come in one day with a smirk and told her what he had done."Stop crying! Goddamnit, get up!" He yelled at her pulling her upwards by the arms. She hadn't realized she was crying until he pointed it out. She could know see that her vision was blurry from the tears."I didn't know any better!" She pleaded. Alexander dropped her as moved away."I am ruined..." He states glaring at her. "Please don't leave me with him! Helpless!" "I am helpless- How could I do this?" He questions himself pacing her room. His mutterings combined with her pleading."Just give him what he wants and you can have me!" She pleaded to him. He was her only joy in life."I don't want you. I don't want you." Her heart broke hearing him muter those four words. She quickly got to her feet before placing her hands on his shoulder and sliding them down. She'd do anything to get a positive reaction. Something that was there that proved he had cared for her before."If you pay, you can stay!" She exclaimed "Helpless! Whoa! How can you say no to this?" She was begging now as she clutched at him like her life depended on it. Don't let this end! Please! She didn't know who leaned toward each other first but lips were on lips again and she was soaring. "Yes!"Hamilton didn't show up again after that meeting. When she saw him in the streets to smile, he quickly looked the other way. It wasn't like she could do much either. James has been working less but making more money. He spends a lot of it on beer and rum. It seems that James has been watching her with the extra time. One mistake. Punch.Talk out of turn? Kick.She got use to it. Her hero wouldn't want anything to do with her. James ruined it with his letter, with his watchful eyes, with his threats.She was the obedient wife, and he was the providing husband. James didn't come to the house. He didn't come the next night or the night after that either.I should- The thought is quickly cut off. Alexander wouldn't want to be reminded of his mistakes. She was just one big mess. For everyone.Two more days pasted and James is still missing. She finds the place where James hid some of the money. She needs to buy groceries in case James comes back.As she walked through the streets she could feel eyes land on her. "Slut" "Whore" "A prostitute" What are they talking about? She wondered. She paused as she saw the News Paper on a cart. "Reynolds Pamphlet" By Alexander Hamilton. She quickly paid for an issue before opening it with shaking hands. "The charge against me is a connection with one, James Reynolds! For purposes of improper speculation, my real crime is an amorous connection with his wife for a considerable time with his knowing consent. I had frequent meetings with her, most of them at my own house. Mrs. Hamilton with our children being absent on a visit to her father.” She dropped the paper. He outed her, he outed their relationship to the world. "Scum." "Damn, with her?" "At his own house!" "They're both married!" She rushed back to the house and slammed the door shut behind her. Her breathing was heavy and she couldn't seem to remember why she went out in the first place. She slowly slid down door as she grabbed a fist full of her own hair. Don't sob. He's not worth it.She locked herself in the house for another week. James never showed. She slowly grabbed some paper and a quill and started to write: Dear Mr. Aaron Burr, Will you please be able to help me divorce my husband, Mr. James Reynolds... ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- He's tired. He's powerful. He's weak. "Take a break!" Angelica and Eliza begged him. "Take the summer off and join us to a well needed vacation." Eliza offered. "Please."I want to... "I'm sorry." He retreated up the stairwell to hid from the temptation that was held in his living room. He could hear their hushed voices "He should drop everything for you!" Angelica "You and I both know he can't. No matter how much we wish." My Dear Betsy "He isn't getting anything don-" Ignore. Paper. Plan. Figure out how to talk Madison and Jefferson into liking my plan. Focus. Too long. It's been too long since his wife left for the summer with their sister... It's only been a week. One week out of a few months. He needed a break but he needs this plan more. He's so close.I hadn’t slept in a week, I was weak, I was awake, You never seen a bastard orphan more in need of a break... Longing for Angelica, missing my wife, that’s when Miss Maria Reynolds walked into my life. He could barely see the numbers and words on his paper before they blurred."I know you are a man of honor. I’m so sorry to bother you at home, but I don’t know where to go, and I came here all alone…" She seemed nervous, eyes always darting toward the door."My husband’s doin’ me wrong, beatin’ me, cheatin’ me, mistreatin’ me... Suddenly he’s up and gone! I don’t have the means to go on."He couldn't just leave her. He saw light bruises through the cake of make up she wore. Offer her a loan. $30. That should allow her to live by herself for a while. "I'll walk you home."They only had to go one block before reaching her apartment. "This one’s mine, sir" Maria addressed to him. They stood at the front of the apartment for a moment.“Well, I should head back home,” Hamilton started to say before Maria blushed. It reminded him so much of his wife he let himself be pulled into her bedroom.All too sudden Maria was on the bed with her legs spread. "Stay?" He looked at her the the door. "Hey..." I have a wife. I love her. He glanced back at her. I miss her so much, and I can pretend she's here. No, Lord show me how to say no to this. "Hey..." Just this one time. Hamilton quickly moved and pushed her down on the bed silencing her with a kiss. One time, yeah right. It became a pastime. Hamilton thought as Maria left his home again. The next day, he received a letter from a Mr. James Reynolds. Uh Oh. Dear Sir, I hope this letter finds you in good health And in a prosperous enough position to put wealth In the pockets of people like me down on their luck You see, that was my wife who you decided to- "Fuuuck." Uh oh, you made the wrong sucker a cuckold So time to pay the piper for the pants you unbuckled And hey, you can keep seein' my whore wife If the price is right, if not I'm telling your wife Hamilton quickly hid the letter and raced to Maria's place. He slammed the door open in search of her. "How could you!""No, Sir!" She pleaded. She looked pitiful, pathetic. She was half dressed when he came in and you could see it in her face how apologetic she was. "Please don't go, sir!" She still longed for his company.He glanced at her tear streamed face. He could start to see her nose start to run. He scoffed. "Stop crying! Goddamnit, get up!" He yelled."I didn't know any better!" She pleaded. "I am ruined..." He states glaring at her. "Please don't leave me with him! Helpless!" "I am helpless- How could I do this?" He questions himself pacing her room. His mutterings combined with her pleading."Just give him what he wants and you can have me!" She pleaded to him. "I don't want you. I don't want you." He didn't want her. He wanted his wife. My Betsy. She quickly got to her feet before placing her hands on his shoulder and sliding them down. He shrugged her off. She quickly grabbed him again."If you pay, you can stay!" She exclaimed "Helpless! Whoa! How can you say no to this?" She was begging now as she clutched at him like her life depended on it. She looked so helpless. Like how I first meet my Betsy. I miss her so much. If I close my eyes, I can see her. "Yes!" I should have said no. I can't let someone use this against me. Like everything, I'll write my way out. The Reynolds Pamphlet
10163507	How Do I Date My	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Other", "Characters": "White (Pokemon), Black (Pokemon), White Kyurem", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by xxxDreamingflowerxxx", "chapters": "1/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-07T00:00:00", "words": "745", "Additional Tags": "Comedy, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Blogging, sorta interspecies relationship, Awkward Dates, Dating, agencyshipping - Freeform, Shipping, Randomness, I Don't Really Know How To Describe This", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Black/White (Pokemon), White Kyurem/ White", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Pocket Monsters SPECIAL \| Pokemon Adventures, Pocket Monsters \| Pokemon - 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 }	I have no idea how I should start this blog, but I guess I should be fair and go to the very beginning and the reason why I decided to write this blog.Let me introduce myself first,My name is White, I'm a producer and the president of the BW agency in the Isshu region. I'm sure many of you have heard of me, but the purpose of my blog is not to talk about my work or successes.It's a much bigger issue, namely my love life.About two years ago I met this boy. He caused a lot of damage during the shooting of a commercial I was working on and had to pay his debt back in the form of labour. He was on a journey to collect all the gym badges and participate in the Pokémon League, that was his dream since he was a child. Due to our circumstances, we ended up travelling together. Throughout our journey, I began to see many sides of him and found out what a kindhearted and strong willed person he was. Yeah, I ended up harbouring strong feelings for him. He achieved so many things in such a short time and was also able to fulfil his long life dream. In case you haven't figured out yet, the boy is Black; the former champion who went missing two years ago.Anyway, long story short, due to an incident he got sealed inside the Light Stone with the legendary dragon Reshiram and thanks to Neo Team Plasma, he was fused with Kyurem, while still being trapped inside of the light stone. As a result, my crush turned into White Kyurem but that's not the weirdest thing, I can assure you that.After the merge, I was in a state of despair. I was convinced that I had lost Black-kun forever and would have to accept that he'd be used as a tool for Team Plasma's evil schemes, but it turns out that Black-kun's conscious was still present and strong. As a human, he wasn't influenced by Team Plasma's Pokémon controlling machine and he saved us all.However, despite everything, I was unable to turn Black-kun back to normal. But his conscious was and is still present. His behaviour, his kindness, his strong determination it's all still there and it steers Kyurem. To me Black-kun is Black-kun, it doesn't matter what appearance he has, I love him for who he is, not for what he is.Now, 'why would she be talking about this' you ask? That's simple; Black-kun and I are currently dating. Can you believe it? I was finally able to muster my courage and confess to Black-kun and he accepted my feelings! How do I know? He wrote his answer down on a piece of paper. Sure he still has to get used to his new body, but he managed to write something legible.Before anyone starts commenting on this, you should realise that love has no boundaries. We should judge others for their personality and not their appearance. Obviously, I'm still going to search for a way to free him, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy each other's company.In this blog, I will write about the challenges and experiences that I'll have to undergo in dating Black-kun. Dating a Pokémon is probably not easy and there are many things that we won't be able to do, like seeing a movie together or going to the amusement park, but I'm sure there are also many opportunities open for us.I will call this guide:How Do I Date My Dragon-Turned BoyfriendThis will be the preface of a long journey. I wonder how I should write this guide... should I sort it in days or chapters focused on certain aspects? Or make even smaller sections? How do people even write a guide?! Ahhh, I'm getting all nervous and stuff! My apologies, I guess I'm in a state of excitement, confused and a lot of other emotions. I should do some proper research first before I continue, yes that's what I should do and clear my mind. Ah, I also have to make sure that this won't get in the way of my work!Thank you so much for bothering to read my blog. Since I'm still very inexperienced in this, I would like to hear some suggestions or ideas.Alright then, I'll see you guys next time.White signing off!
10189778	Mortality	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Tales of Zestiria", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Kamitra", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-09T00:00:00", "words": "1,322", "Additional Tags": "non-canon, Death, not a lot of death but still", "Relationship": null, "Character": "Lailah (Tales of Zestiria)", "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 }	If she folded a flower for each person's life that had touched hers, the cathedral would probably overflow with flowers long before she got to the point where she actually remembered much. Seraphs weren't unchanging and weren't history books full of facts. She remembered a lot of things, true, but not even close to everything. Not even close to a lot, but they were still precious memories, nonetheless. And seraphs redefined themselves over time. Or at least she did. It was hard to say how other seraphs defined themselves. She knew she had lived long before, but could not remember how she came about or what she had done before she went into the service. She could have been born into it, for all she knew, but that wasn't what was important. It was what came after. She saw the destruction of the service and the lamentations of both humans and seraphs over the loss of greatness. She saw those that came after look to that time with wonder, but she also those that still lived also look back with a different kind of wonder. "It makes me glad the future is not certain," one had told her. He had also been in the service and took his duties just as seriously as she had. She had no idea if he was older than her, but it was easier to think he was the same age. "Without the fall of the throne, I would have never known life could be like this." At the time she didn't understand what he meant. She was just glad that he, a fellow former holy servant, had found joy in life. It made her wonder what her own joy would be. Then she met him. It was a boy. A beautiful, scraggly boy that visited her and taught her so much about life. A boy that grew into a man and then fell to the malevolence of their world. She didn't even get to see what made him turn or when; she found out one day when a Shepherd showed her a faded, slightly burnt, folded flower. She hadn't seen him since he had lost the ability to see and hear her. She had seen this many times throughout her service and had thought nothing of it at the time; humans lost the ability to see them very easily just as easily as they perished. There was so much she didn't know. She never knew how he had lived. How he died (except at the Shepherd's hands). She never questioned this before. She didn't understand why this has impacted her so hard before. Maybe she would understand if she had more of an interaction with humans. So she became a Sub Lord. She couldn't even remember much of the first Shepherd she came into service for. All she could recall was the constant thought of how strange humans were... and how perhaps Shepherds were not the best method to learn about humanity. She certainly got to see much of it through travel, but Shepherds didn't seem to interact much with humans. Shepherds were always said to be an odd bunch, but she had very little to compare it to. It was another age until she decided to work with another Shepherd. Until then, she decided to simply walk with humans as herself. When times became hard, she simply hid herself. (This was why it was hard to find another Seraph that wasn't already interacting with humans. Many of them simply hid in their vessels.) She learned a lot from this time of drifting. She learned that humans changed their minds about things. She learned that change could bring about malevolence or it could bring about purity. She also learned that seraphs changed as well, which if she thought about it, was obvious. And yet she had never thought about it before. It just was. She thought that maybe this was the same for humans. Things just were. Even if everything was different from just ten years before, things simply were. Until a Shepherd proposed to her. "Please become my Sub Lord!" This was her favorite memory. He had been talking to her for several days while he had been undergoing the initial training. Their extensive travels had given them a lot in common. At the time, she had no idea why he had asked her to be his Sub Lord when there were other fire seraphs in the city, as seraphs sometimes came to see the new Shepherd's ceremony. "I want to show you how much of a difference we can make in this world. I want you to be there to see it with me." Later he would hide his face when she bragged to a young earth seraph about the whole thing, claiming that it was a symptom of youth. (Edna, for her part, had looked like she had swallowed a bug.) Eventually, after many adventures, he had retired and she followed him back to his home village. It was on his deathbed that she promised to do what she could to help change the world after him. The rest, as they say, is history. Or it would have been if any of it were ever written down. She served as the Prime Lord many times since then. She didn't always do the best job, but she always tried her best. She took the advice of the High Seraphs to heart. She did her best. Didn't always succeed, but she never stopped trying. That is, until one of the Shepherds she had walked with committed the greatest sin of all. Again, she wasn't there to see any of it; he had long since retired and had left to found a new town. She had been on her way to visit him and his family when she found that she couldn't get there. She met Zenrus then. She found herself doubting what she had done. What she had done wrong. Had she simply been too complacent about the whole thing? Did she never really try? Why had this happened when it seemed like there had been nothing wrong with the previous Shepherd? He had seemed so exemplary. Perhaps "seemed" was the proper word. She thought about this for years. In a way this was the slowest time of her life as she thought about the various things that she had never thought of before. She thought about all the different kinds of malevolence that she had seen ever the years and how it could have brought about the world she was seeing now. It was a world that she would have to protect for her failure. She would have to do more than try, this time. She would have to be strong enough to withstand all of this and to support the next Shepherd and his friends. It was at the sanctuary, surrounded by friends of the greatest Shepherd of the ages that she realized she was wrong yet again. It was her regrets that pushed her to succeed where she had failed previously, but it was love that made her take the first step. Her strength of duty had passed long before, leaving only the strength of love. It was the same love she saw in her youngest Sub Lord and bravest Shepherd as they took their final steps forward. In pain, and in love. And it hadn't been until she talked to the most independent Shepherd that she ever worked with that she finally realized that she had done this all on her own. That she had been living all this time on her own, without duty. Without guidance. Without contract. She would finally be able to say what was in her heart and the power to purify would still be there. And so she did, to the most powerful seraph that there would ever be. This would be her flower to him.
10144214	You look but you dont	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Sherlock Holmes, James Moriarty", "Fandom": "Sherlock (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by meinrasendherz", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-06T00:00:00", "words": "905", "Additional Tags": "One Shot, Kidnapping, Fluff, Breaking Up & Making Up, sherlock is just being sherlock, jim is a little shit who needs to be protected", "Relationship": "Sherlock Holmes/James Moriarty", "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 light blinded the eyes of some certain detective when the blindfold was finally removed. He couldn’t recognise the place at all – where was he? He had been a fair five or six hours inside some kind of vehicle, he knew that. But he, Sherlock Holmes himself, didn’t have a single clue about where was he or what was that place.It wasn’t like anything he had been imagining. Not that he could complain either, given the situation. He found himself inside a neat white living room, furnished with what seemed like a very expensive leather sofa, a big television that occupied almost all the front wall, a black piano perfectly set on the corner, and bookshelves covering every wall. There were books everywhere but on the enormous wall behind him, all glass-made, that let the sun enter and illuminate the whole room. He felt a sense of intimacy, of being before something not so many people had ever seen and lived to tell, that he couldn’t quite explain at the beginning. Until he heard him.- Hello, dear. – the purring voice of James Moriarty sounded at his back, as soft and menacing as he remembered it. He slowly turned back, meeting his eyes.- Jim… I should have known – he murmured, considering his options. Was he armed? Didn’t seem so. Was he about to murder him?- Yeah, but as always – James approached to him, looking disinterested, somewhat… disappointed? about his reaction – you look but you don’t observe.- What do you want? – he asked straightforward, getting tense. His attitude was baffling him and he hated it so much, just as much as he hated Moriarty for kidnapping him. He should have felt angry, he should have been ready to fight him, to kill him if it was necessary, but again, he felt like he didn’t want to. At all.- Chill out, Holmes, I’m not gonna murder you in this couch, it’s Italian leather– Jim rolled his eyes back and walked past him, like it was no big deal he had just kidnapped the detective. He got his phone from the charger and checked his emails, like it was all that mattered to him at the moment – Fancy a cuppa? - Are you… Are you fucking kidding me, James? – he grumbled, feeling mildly relieved about what he just said and mildly angry about Moriarty’s apparent disinterest for him.- What? – he protested looking at him, offended like he was behaving as a perfect gentleman and couldn’t understand Sherlock’s frowned expression at all.- You brought me here… to offer me a cup of tea? – he sounded really annoyed.- You weren’t answering my texts – he replied shrugging, unapologetic.- That’s because I didn’t want to see you, don’t you think? - You didn’t say quite the same last week – Moriarty replied, biting his bottom lip. He looked nothing like the cold, dark man he had met for the first time at the pool. He almost looked… hurt. No, that wasn’t Moriarty. That was his James. Sherlock sighed.- We’ve already talk about this, James…- No, you talked. And all I could do was listen and watch as you left the hotel room without even fucking kiss me goodbye – James looked at him, his eyes all black and his breathing fast and heavy. He looked like he was about to cut his neck open right there, like a hunter about to jump upon his prey, but he didn’t. He left the phone on the table and crossed his arms looking at him, not wanting to show how heartbroken and devastated he really was.Sherlock exhaled and sit on the couch, looking at him. He felt so awful about making Jim feel like that. He loved him. He truly did. But things like love weren’t something he allowed himself to feel easily.- Come here… – he whispered, leaving him space on the sofa. Jim kept standing, reluctant. – James… please.Moriarty doubted for a moment but walked until he sat by his side, looking more tired and pinched than Sherlock had ever seen him. He couldn’t help but hug him and let him rest against his side, kissing his forefront as Jim rested his head over his shoulder. He held him tight, hating himself for the decision he had taken. He just wanted to do the right thing, even if it meant ignoring his heart entirely. But seeing James like that didn’t look like the right choice, not for him. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes, in silence, until the Irishmen spoke:- Have you reconsidered it? – James murmured, sounding vulnerable and soft. Sherlock lean forward to kiss him and doubt for a second before answering.- Look, just because you kidnapped me doesn’t mean I’m going to marry you… – he started, almost hearing Jim’s heart drop. He lifted his chin meeting the dark brownish eyes of the men he loved and smirked a little – But you can take me out to dinner so we can talk about it. In one of those fancy restaurants you enjoy so much – Jim smiled and his eyes brightened, almost in disbelieve of what he was hearing.- So… you’re not breaking up with me again? Do you still love me? – Moriarty asked, his heart beating angry inside his chest as he looked into Sherlock’s bright blue eyes. The detective kissed him again and hold him closer.- Oh, darling… as always – he whispered against the criminal lips. – You look, but you don’t observe.
10173161	The Wolf and the Lamb	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Cao Cao, Guān Yǔ", "Fandom": "關雲長ㅣThe Lost Bladesman (2011)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by dark_lord_cuddleslut", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-08T00:00:00", "words": "1,784", "Additional Tags": "Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Face-Fucking, D/s, Anal Sex", "Relationship": "Guan Yu/Cao Cao", "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 }	“Kneel!”Guan Yunchang dropped to his knees without a second thought, assuming a practiced position with his legs spread. Cao grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head and pressing it tightly to Cao’s crotch, burying his face in his silken leggings. Guan barely struggled, but reached out for Cao’s legs, clutching at him to steady himself. He let out a little cry, not expecting the force Cao was using, but judging by the erection that was straining against his inner thigh, it wasn’t in complaint. He gasped a breath, Cao Cao’s musk filling his nostrils, his mouth, his lungs, igniting his lust. He struggled slightly against Cao’s grasp, angling his head to better align with the firm bulge in his leggings.Cao pushed his hips against Guan’s face. Another muffled cry so desperate it was nearly a sob. “Show me how you desire.” He loosened his grasp on Guan’s hair, tangling his fingers in it, allowing his fingers to trace his ears and his cheek.He was more than glad to oblige, wrapping his lips around Cao’s silk-shrouded cock. Something as trifling as clothing was not going to deter him. He rolled forward, pushing his head into Cao’s lap, clutching desperately at him as he dragged his lips against the bulge. He lavished his attention on the throbbing shaft, guiding it against the contours of his face as he dropped a hand between Cao’s legs. It slid through the passage of his thighs, his fingertips rubbing at his perineum while he filled his palm with Cao’s balls. Cao Cao widened his stance to allow Guan all the room he needed, smirking down at him as he combed his fingers through Guan’s hair.“Just like that, Yunchang. Good.” Another deep, full breath of Cao’s intoxicating smell, all sweat and river water, and the osmanthus and pine oils in his soap. His lips pursed against the head of Cao’s cock before parting to let the shrouded flesh as far past his lips as it would go. Cao’s trousers were damp with saliva and precome. He was looking down at Guan with intensity in his stare, moistening his lips with his tongue. Cao Cao grabbed at the waist of his leggings, tugging them down far enough to expose himself, while using his other hand to push Guan away. “Beg!”“Please, Lord Cao, please!” Cao’s cock twitched in the warm air, straining to feel Guan’s mouth. “I need to taste you!” There was desperation in his voice. They had been teasing each other all day, bending over for a little too long to pick something up, adjusting themselves in plain view, massaging each other under the pretense of easing the pains of exhaustion. Guan had carelessly tumbled into the water, and the way his clothes clung to his body drive Cao Cao mad. “Use my mouth, I beg of you!” Guan was squirming, his eyes darting between Cao’s face and his twitching erection.“Suck,” he commanded. “Do not let a drop fall!”Guan Yu’s lips darted to Cao’s warm, firm skin, allowing his soft tongue to broaden and bathe its underside, slipping the tightened cord of muscle there into the valley of his tongue. He started to raise his hand, but Cao swatted it away.“Who permitted you to touch me?”Guan looked up at him with a pained expression, letting his hands fall down to grasp at his own leggings. “Forgive me, my lord.”“You must only use your mouth! And take every cùn, all the way, I want to see it in your throat.”Guan raised himself slightly and tilted his head down in order to take Cao’s swollen cockhead in his mouth, then slowly lowered his body back down. Dark brown eyes, glistening in the moonlight gazed up at Cao Cao as Guan began to slide more and more past his lips and across his tongue. He moaned, his eyelids fluttering closed, and sucked hard enough to deflate his cheeks. Cao dropped his hand to rest behind Guan’s head, again grabbing a handful of hair. Guan pulled back slightly only to push Cao’s cock back into his mouth, caressing the shaft with his tongue, pushing it deeper inside with every bob of his head.The hand in Guan’s hair tightened as Cao pushed his hips forward, and felt his cockhead touch the back of Guan’s throat. Guan flinched, but it wasn’t the first time he had taken the whole thing. He relaxed with a patient breath, and Cao thrusted again, pushing his cock just barely into the tight, wet passage of Guan’s throat. His lips tightened further around Cao Cao, a reaction to the newfound lack of breath, relaxing when Cao pulled away and he could breathe again. Guan gasped for a breath before getting another mouthful, more insistent. Another hand in his hair.“Oh, Guan… my lamb… yes. Suck. Let me hear it.” There was a new rhythm to Cao’s thrusting as he started to gently fuck Guan’s mouth. When he gasped for air, drool ran down his chin, and the sucking sound of Cao’s cock in his throat drove Cao over the edge. “Nngh! Aah! Yunchan!” He clutched Guan’s face against his body, thrusting all the way into him, and coming down his throat. Guan’s body seized up. It took all his concentration to keep from choking. His eyes shot open and teared up. Cao pushed in firmly with a final lean against Guan’s face before withdrawing, still half-hard and leaking come.Guan gasped for air, bending over between Cao’s shaky legs to cough and sputter. Come and spit dripped from his lips onto the tile floor. Without waiting for the command he knew was coming, he lapped it up like spilt milk while Cao Cao was still moaning Guan’s name, over and over. Before he could finish catching his breath, he could feel Cao clutching him by the front of the tunic, dragging him out of his position on his knees. “Present yourself to me, on the bed.” Cao was flushed and panting, but the authoritative tone never left his voice.He was quick to his feet, stripping himself, tossing his clothes aside, and scrambling to assume the required position on the bed - on his hands and knees. Precome was dripping from his slit, staining the colorful blanket beneath him. He couldn’t keep his hips from fucking slightly against the air, desperate to feel Cao’s hand around his aching cock.He stood for a moment, composing himself, and giving Guan Yu some time to prepare. He grabbed at his sensitive cock, teasing Guan with a ragged moan when it almost hurt to touch himself. He walked around from the foot of the bed and slid onto the mattress, reaching across to an end table to pour out a handful of oil into his palm. “Lie before me and spread your legs.” Guan did as asked, propping himself up with his arms and spreading his legs, with his knees bent upward. His erection jerked into the air as he watched Cao, who was pushing his oil-soaked fingers into his body, slowly spreading it as deeply as he could. The tight ring of muscle clenched around his fingers, three of them up to the second knuckle, and when he pulled them out, Guan’s mind blanked at the sight of Cao’s slick, tight hole.Cao leaned forward, rubbing his oily hands together, and reached out with them. He gingerly took Guan’s cock in both hands, slathering him with it from tip to base. He knew he had to be careful not to make the trembling Guan come. The slippery sound of their flesh rubbing was almost enough on its own to bring him straight to the edge. Guan clenched his jaw and held his breath, and just as he was he was beginning to lose the fight against his orgasm, Cao let go. Guan moaned helplessly, whimpering, and fell back against the bed, his toes curled, the muscles in his ass straining against the covers. “Please, Cao Cao, let me come for you!”Sliding back into the pillows, Guan let his back fall to the bed, lounging in a receptive position. “Come take your pleasure from me.” No sooner did he put his hands beneath his thighs to hitch his legs into the air than Guan Yu shot across the covers, straining prick in his hand. He guided it to Cao Cao’s entrance, and it kissed the head of his cock. It was difficult to keep from slamming his hips against him, but Guan went slowly, letting Cao take the cockhead into his body before he slid the rest of the way in.“My lord…” He exhaled a hot breath; Guan’s body was on fire. He shuddered against Cao as their bodies met, somehow managing to keep himself upright. He replaced Cao’s hands, which had been holding up his own legs, using the grip for leverage as he thrusted deep and slow. The oil was so warm now, filling in the tiny pockets of air between his cock and Cao’s insides. “Gods… Cao Cao…” Their eyes locked, released from the tugging of dominance and submission. Guan’s breaths were ragged, deepening, tangled with soft moans. Closer and closer, aching to grip at the edge as long as he could, but his fingers slipped, one by one.With a couple of quick thrusts, Guan came with trembling, hushed gasps. He hugged Cao Cao’s legs over his shoulder, burying his face in a thick, muscular thigh as he clung desperately to him. His mind was nearly gone, consumed by the flames of his desire. He mumbled quietly, filthy little things that gradually melted into soft confessions. “I love you,” He whispered, his eyes closed, hips still rocking gently against Cao Cao.“And I you, Guan Yunchang.” Cao’s head lolled against the pillow as he gazed at him. Guan was sweating, radiating heat, his expression softening as his muscles began to relax. He lowered Cao’s legs to the bed, kissing them wherever they passed his lips. “Lay with me.”It took more strength than he had left in his body to lower himself to lay beside Cao Cao, and his head thudded against Cao’s shoulder as the last bit of that strength gave itself up. Cao wrapped an arm around Guan’s back, pulling him close. Their unfocused gaze met lazily. They teased each other with kisses that still tasted of the peaches they shared earlier, disinterested in either sleep or the chores that would wait for tomorrow. Considering their contentment with sharing in the warmth of their afterglow, tracing lines on their sweat-stippled skin, there was nothing more important than luxuriating in each others’ limp and pleasure-soaked bodies.
10189838	Flinch	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by desikauwa", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-09T00:00:00", "words": "968", "Additional Tags": "Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse", "Relationship": "Cassandra Cain & Everyone", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Tumblr Drabbles", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)", "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 one to say something is Stephanie. "Hey Cass. Why do you sometimes flinch when I hug you?"Cass froze."I flinch?""Yeah. It used to be a lot worse but now it only happens once in awhile.""Well it's not like you're trying to hurt me."Steph immediately connected the dots."Sometimes I really hate your dad.""Bruce? What did he do now?"Cass was confused to say the least.Steph rolled her eyes."No not Bruce. I'm talking about David Cain. That man can go to hell."Cass shrugged. That was a common sentiment among her friends and family. Dick doesn’t ruffle Cass's hair for a good reason. Dick went to go ruffle Cass's hair after a patrol when she tensed just enough that he stopped."Cassie… did you think I was going to attack you just now?"Cass looked away."I know you won't but a part of me doesn't believe that."Dick was going to rage about this later but for now he needed to reassure Cass that he wasn't upset with her."Cass, I'm going to hug you now okay."Cass was able to relax enough to accept the hug and Dick kissed the top of her head. Jason was pissed when he figured it out. Jason blinked trying to figure out how he ended up on the floor."I'm so sorry, Jason. I thought you were trying to spar."Oh that’s right. He'd punched Cass lightly to greet her and ended up with her grabbing his arm and flipping him.Jason groaned."If I wanted to spar, I would say so."Cass shrugged."Cain always started spars with an attack. I guess it was just an instinct."Jason took the hand Cass offered him."Wait so he'd just attack you and expect you to fight back."Cass nodded."He did it from the moment I was a decent fighter."Jason was furious."I'm going to kill that bastard."Cass gave him a look."No killing. He's not worth it." Barbara figured it out long ago "So I see you've finally figured it out."Babs gave Cass a soft smile. She had wondered how long it would take Cass to notice."You knew?""How could I not? Every time I touched you when you first got to Gotham, you always flinched. It's like you expected it to hurt.""It always did before I came to Gotham." Alfred knew from the very beginning Cass hugged Alfred."Thank you Alfred."Alfred gave her a smile."For what Miss Cassandra?""You knew didn't you. About my issues.""I've seen many things in my long life. From the minute Master Bruce told me about you, I knew.""You're amazing Alfred.""Why thank you Miss Cassandra. Now would you like some cookies." Tim became afraid of hurting Cass the minute he realized it. Cass flinched the minute she felt the hand on her shoulder."Oh my God Cass. I'm so sorry!!"Tim immediately snatched his hand away. He hadn't realized that Cass was hurt.Cass knowing her brother sighed."You didn't hurt me Tim. You just caused a reflex to go off."Tim's eyes widened in realization."I made a reflex go off… Cass I'm never touching you again."Cass rolled her eyes and punched Tim on the arm."OW!"Tim's hand covered the place on his arm that Cass had punched."What was that for?""For being an idiot. I trust you not to hurt me so stop worrying yourself." Damian understands all too well Damian always knew he had a lot in common with his sister but he was well aware that it was harder for her than him."It's hard sometimes."Cass hummed in agreement.Damian took that as a sign to continue."The others don't understand. That kind of upbringing leaves it's mark.""I know Damian.""I know it was harder for you. David Cain is a miserable bastard who never deserved you."Cass was mildly amused."I never knew you cared so much."Damian flushed slightly."Well you are my only sister and are worthy of the Wayne family name unlike Drake.""How kind of you Damian? If you wanted a hug, next time just say so."Damian spluttered,"That was not what I was getting at. I'm just informing you that I think you are a worthy member of this family."Cass gave him a hug anyways which Damian returned while grumbling the entire time.It was nice to have someone who understood. Bruce… well Cass was the one to ask him Bruce was in his office when Cass came to him."Bruce."He looked up from the papers to see his daughter standing in the doorway."Yes Cassandra. Is there something you needed?"Cass looked uneasy but she needed to know."I know you're aware of my problem with physical contact."Bruce raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure where Cass was going with this."Yes. What about it?"Cass stepped into the room and closed the door behind her."Well why have you never said anything?""Was I supposed to?"Cass was confused."I guess not but you've never tried to initiate contact either. Why?"Bruce sighed."I'm not David Cain, Cassandra."Cass's confusion grew."I know that. What does he have to do with this?""Whenever the two of you had physical contact, he would try to hurt you. I don't want to be like him.""You're not!""Thank you Cassandra but I'm not changing how I interact with you.""What do you mean?""The best way to be nothing like him is to let you initiate any contact between us."Cass stared at Bruce for a moment before launching herself over his desk and hugging him."I'm so glad you're my father.""And I'm glad you're my daughter."
10182851	Gingerbread House	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "World End (Servamp), Original Female Character", "Fandom": "Servamp (Anime & Manga)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by Tailsdoll123", "chapters": "1/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-08T00:00:00", "words": "1,144", "Additional Tags": "more characters will be tagged as they appear, Fujioshi eve, She's a weebo, Gluttony just wants food, He's a poor pig, Sibling like relationship", "Relationship": "World End and Original Female Character", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "The Hungry Servamp and the Fujioshi Eve", "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 }	Just because I happened to mention visiting the area before did not mean I was an expert on where everything was.Take in point – right now.“Grimm-san, I thought you knew where the shops were!” A screechy voice spoke up, causing my ears to tingle in annoyance.“I never said I knew where they were, I only commented that there were shops around,” I replied, refusing to look the peeved off girls in the face.“Then why did you tell us to follow you?!” A blonde haired girl piped in, running her manicured hands through her hair as if that would keep it from getting messy any further.I shrugged while the other girls sighed. “Okay, my bad but look where we are-““An empty field?”“Yes, perfect for fun!” I gestured only to frown in disappointment when the girls just looked annoyed.“No offence Grimm-san but at the end of this trip we will be starting high school. We’re not kids anymore. It’s time to grow up,” The screechy voiced girl, Shiori-san, scoffed while the other girls snickered.“We’re still kids though,” I slumped as the group of girls began turning back the direction we came from. We weren’t far from the village but considering most of them were dressed in heels it would make sense why they didn’t want to be walking for long.It was painful looking at my class.With the prospect of high school approaching, the class I grew up with began to change in front of my eyes. The days of running around in the rain and starting food wars were over. Now it was all about ‘reputation’ and ‘appearance.’The boys started to take their sports seriously and styled their hairs to ‘attract the ladies’ when a few months ago they were more than happy to just have casual chats with the other gender as if they weren’t another species.It’s rare now to see a boy and girl talk in my class without people pairing them up.The girls started wearing makeup and stylish clothes to make themselves feel better. Seeing the majority of girls force themselves on diets when before it didn’t matter how we looked was enough to make me barf.But what made it even more annoying was while I felt that something was wrong with other people, everyone else was acting if I was the only one who was strange.I didn’t want to change though. I had no interest in changing my appearance, attracting boys or ‘growing up.’ I was fourteen years old coming up to fifteen – I have my whole life ahead of me.Shaking the recurring thoughts from my head, I couldn’t help but pout as I watched the girls grumble about the Italian weather.Well there goes my idea of having a relaxing fun day with the girls…. If there was one thing ironic about me, it would have to be my name.Greta Grimm.More specifically it was my last name because although my last name made the impression I was an unhappy person, I was far from it.I was happy whenever someone simply smiled at me but due to my mother passing on her ‘I don’t give a shit face’ to me, it was hard for people to actually realise this.Perhaps that’s why most of my class feel confusion when dealing with me. They never seem to realise when I’m joking with them unless I actually tell them it to their face.I’ve been working on it though. Every time I find a mirror, I always make sure to practice smiling.I think I’m getting better -regardless if my younger brother says I look like a beast. “Grimm, you should turn that frown upside down,” I heard a classmate cackle while a few of the other guys hushed him.“I’m not frowning though,” I called back but I got raised eyebrows instead.It seems again I’m not making the right facial expressions.Our class was inside the village hall on a lunch break. The doors were wide open to let in some cool air but the bright sun was a bit of a pain.I jabbed at the lunch in front of me as it wasn’t very appetising.Salad.The girls on their quest to continue their diet had all decided to band together and eat nothing but salad. I was dragged into this, being in the female equation and not wanting to be sent scathing looks for my behaviour.But still….salad, yuck.A quick glance showed the girls around me trying to hide their own disgust with happy grins.Heh, no use hiding it from me. We grew up together and I can tell you the majority do not fancy their greens.“What’s wrong Greta-chan? You’re not eating?” The brown haired girl across from me asked, looking mildly concerned.“Oh….uh, I just remembered I left something in my room so I think I need to go get it,” I excused myself, getting a nod from her as I quickly left the village hall.I wasn’t going to head to the hotel though as I already had a destination in mind.Specifically the candy store across the way. Thirty minutes later I found myself sat on a bench munching on as much chocolate as I could.“Got to make sure to hide some in my room for later…I’m not a rabbit, sheesh” I reminded myself, reluctantly stuffing the rest of the candy in my bag.However in my rush to not be caught gorging, half of my items slipped out and tumbled onto the ground.I groaned as I slid off the bench to crouch on the ground and scoop my items into my bag.Due to my concentration on making sure I didn’t miss anything, I did not see the approaching ‘storm’ until it was too late.My bag dropped from my grasp as something hard rammed into my arm and colourful vocabulary flew out my mouth in response.“FUCK!” I shrieked, grasping my arm – and realizing the was a mistake when pain shot through me. Tears built up in my eyes as I continued clutching my arm protectively before glancing at the thing that hit me.My breath hitched as my eyes connected with deep dark ruby eyes. I would have mistaken it for a human if it wasn’t clearly a pig.A huge freakin pig.I couldn’t even move as the large animal huffed before suddenly biting down on the handle of my satchel bag and then rushing off.A pig just stole a bag.A huge ass pig just stole my bag.“MY BAG?! SHIT, GIVE IT BACK!” I yelled, not caring when I surprised the few onlookers around me, and began chasing after the retreating pig.That fucker better run before I make it into bacon!!!
10186775	Elements of the Seasons	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Yoroiden Samurai Troopers \| Ronin Warriors", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Yoroiden", "chapters": "3/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-09T00:00:00", "words": "3,431", "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 }	Ryo eyed the dominating black demon gate.“Do you think this will work?” Ryo asked as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.It had taken them years to clean up the remnants of Talpa’s army and bring the Youjakai back to it’s pre-Talpa state. He wasn’t willing to leave anything to chance, especially Talpa’s remains.“This is the best chance we have of ensuring Talpa never returns,” Kayura reassured. “As long as the nine armors are around the seal will contain any remnants Talpa left behind.”“But, the dude’s been dead for years,” Kento countered. “There’s no way his ashes are going to cause any trouble with this in place.”“I hope you are right. If given a chance to return, even in spirit, he will,” Dais eyed Kento.“You’ve helped with the seal, which is all we require of you. Let us worry about guarding Talpa’s remains, you keep an eye on the Human Realm,” Sekhmet told the Ronin Warriors. “If we need your assistance we will summon you,” Anubis smiled reassuringly at the Ronins. The Jewel of Life hung around his neck.“Thank you. Anything you need we are here for you. We’ll make sure our children stay vigilant,” Ryo promised the Warlords and Kayura. Kayura shook her staff and summoned a torii gate to take the Ronins home. As the group turned to leave Sage took one last look at the looming presence of the black tori gate, an unnerving feeling in his stomach. 400 years later… A young man, about seventeen years old, sat on the roof of a high-rise apartment building, his legs dangling off the side as the day faded into night and his green hair straining against his ponytail in the wind. He sat there, intently watching a ten-year-old boy in the apartment complex across the street. The boy spent most of the day playing with his assortment of toys and his video games. His name was Kousei, if the plaque on the door was correct. The young man leaned back onto his hands, looking up at the night sky.“This is boring, why couldn’t Natsu or Harume stand guard all day?” the young man sighed. The entire day proved to be extremely uneventful. No signs of attacking enemies were to be seen, not even a car wreck or a neighbor arguing about dog droppings on their sidewalk ‘Such a boring town,’ He thought as he flopped onto his back, his green hair cushioning his head. He glanced up at the clear, night sky, the moon was just a sliver as it continued to rise. He loved the stars in the Ningenkai, they always seemed to shine brighter than the ones back home in the Youjakai. “Shouldn’t you be doing something more important than star gazing?” Naga shot up and spun around into a crouch, knife ready. He recognized his teacher, Kado. The current head of the Ancient Clan patted him on the back. “Always the impatient one aren’t we Naga?” Kado walked to the edge of the building, his eyes focused on their target. “So, that’s him,” the Ancient stated simply. “Yes, I can feel it,” Naga said with certainty as he stood beside his mentor.“Well, go get him then. We have a lot to do before the ceremony,” the Ancient reminded. Naga nodded and leapt from the roof of the building, grabbing onto the window ledge of the boy’s room. He pulled herself up onto the ledge and slithered into the room, the boy's back was to him and he gave no sign of hearing Naga’s slow approach. Naga took a needle out from his pouch and aimed at the boys neck. Kousei swatted at his neck as Naga came up and grabbed the boy, his muffled scream could be heard carried upon a light breeze. Naga and the boy teleported away, only a letter in their place. The only sound that could be heard was coming from the video game. The words ‘GAME OVER’ were written across the television screen. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Four years laterNatsuhiko rubbed his green eyes with the heel of his hand. After hours of staring at Nether Realm maps his eyes needed a break. Trying to predict Talpa’s troop movements seemed an exercise in futility. From the looks of it, Talpa was expanding his control over the Nether Realm faster than any of them expected. His father sent the maps earlier in the week and it wasn’t looking good. With Talpa expanding this rapidly, it was only a matter of time before the Nether World fell and he completed his long desire to dominate the Human World. The combined forces of the three Seasonal armors and their parent’s armies wouldn't be able to keep Talpa at bay much longer.Natsuhiko leaned back, hearing the popping and cracking down his spine. The spartan, yet modern house in the Human World, changed little in his eleven years living here. Brought up rigidly Samurai, he couldn’t deny he enjoyed the conveniences of electricity and cell phones. Though they rarely needed the latter, one of the first skills Kado had taught them all was the ability to communicate through the armors.He stood from the desk and stepped through the shoji door onto the veranda. The sunshine helped clear his head. His Summer armor soaked up the sunshine, for all he disliked the heat combined with humidity. Thankfully, the heat wave that gripped the region finally loosened its grip thanks to the recent storms. The sky was a clear blue, without a cloud in sight.The garden and training area behind the row of bedrooms the Seasonals occupied had been there since the house was built, during his third great grandfather’s time. Had Jirougorou foreseen the need for this house even back then? It mattered little now, they were in a war, and had been since his father’s time as a Bearer. He smiled as he saw his fellows sparring in the gardens below. Pulling his silver hair back, he jumped from the second story. “Training rather hard this early, aren’t we Harume?” Natsuhiko smiled as he landed.Harume flipped her auburn ponytail back over her shoulder as she turned. Natsuhiko loved her red eyes from the moment she arrived six years ago. They saw everything whether you wanted them to or not.“I have a lot of catching up to do. Naga is depending on us to protect everyone while he’s gone,” Harume smiled, determined. “Always the optimist, but you know you aren’t that behind. We’ve trained for this since we were old enough to hold a sword and you’ve come a long way with mastering Spring,” Natsuhiko encouraged, picking up his bokken from the stand. It was relaxing to go through their katas together, the dance more ritual than training now. Natsuhiko and Harume a chance to bond and train together when she first moved in. The Bearer of Autumn, Naga, spent long periods of time away so it was nice having someone to train with and mentor.~~~Years ago meals were eaten in relative silence, but as the household grew so did the liveliness of the meals. Natsuhiko liked to think it was because Kousei had joined them. Kousei was not raised with the samurai “children should be seen not heard” mindset.Looking over at Kado’s apprentice, Natsuhiko thought he looked like he was about to fall asleep. Kado must have really put Kousei through a tough training session today. Natsuhiko almost felt sorry for him. Kousei was so young when he was pulled into this fight and he had no previous knowledge about the armor. And yet as the next head of the Ancients clan they would need his power to destroy Talpa for good. “I read over your father’s report,” Kado said to Nastuhiko. “He’s advancing faster than we anticipated.”“I know, and I can’t figure out how he is able to amass the power he has from that tiny island,” Natsuhiko grumbled, frustrated. I’m a tactician, why can't I figure this out?“Do you think…” Kousei hesitated, “Do you think he finally got captured and turned?”“Naga would never do that!” Harume fumed.“It’s alright, Harume. I agree he wouldn’t join Talpa willingly, but Kousei has a point,” Kado reassured her. “I will try to contact him-” he cut off as the shakujo sprang to life, its metal rings ringing throughout the house. Harume and Natsuhiko sprang to their feet and ran into Kado’s study to the golden framed mirror. It was one of the many artifacts that had been taken from Talpa’s castle after the fall. The enemy approached.“How did they get here? How does Talpa have enough power to come to the Human World?” Natsuhiko thought out loud as he watched the foot soldiers come down the mountain.“Go, I’ll monitor the situation from here,” Kado ordered the trio. “Kousei, be careful.”Kousei nodded as Natsuhiko said, “Right.” The subarmor they wore differed in appearance from the way it had in their ancestor’s day. The Summer armor turned white accented with green and the kanji for Endurance rested over his heart. Dark green pants accompanied the subarmor, tucking in it right above the knee. Harume’s swiftly followed, summoned the grey blue subarmor of Spring, with accompanying jacket, similar to the one worn in full armor. Kousei called his shakujo; it was unique to him, fashioned with a spear head, appropriate for the next in line for the Ancient title.The mountain was bathed in chaos and smoke, Dynasty soldiers were everywhere. Natsuhiko summoned his six-sided kama and charged the soldiers. Harume hurried to the nearest group of soldiers. “Dao Chuu!” cried Harume, a brilliant light shone about her, the armor of Spring encasing her. She brought forth her Kusarigama to block the enemy soldier’s spear, but sacrificed her balance and crashed to the ground. The soldier took advantage of the opening and raised his weapon to strike once again.“Harume!” Kousei jumped up from behind the soldier, spearing him with the end of his shakujo.“Thank you,” she smiled and ran back to the main attacking force that Natsuhiko was desperately trying to hold at bay.Natsuhiko, in his magenta spider-like armor, called out, “Web of Deception!” Harume cheered as she ran up behind Natsuhiko. "Good job, Natsuhiko," “Hey, it’s not over yet,” Natsuhiko joked, charging the soldiers with Harume and Kousei following.Natsuhiko plowed his way through the thicket of soldiers with his kama. Sweat covered his face; he found relief in the fact that these soldiers did not shed blood or scream like normal dying men. He blocked an attack, flipping over another spear aimed for his chest. Abruptly, he felt the blunt impact colliding with his back falling face first into the mud. Though not as skilled with her armor as Natsuhiko, Harume held her own against the invading army. But, Kousei was barely holding on as a soldier’s spear cut across his arm. He swung his staff at the soldier, colliding with the soldier’s head before stabbing him through the chest. He held his arm, stemming the blood.Another battalion of soldiers charged towards the trio, in greater numbers. Natsuhiko watched with dread as the soldiers came down the mountain. How were they going to keep them at bay? “It’s been a pleasure fighting alongside you both,” Harume told them both as she readied her weapon.“Hey, there’s no time for that kind of talk,” Natsuhiko told her as he shook blood out of his eye. “These guys aren’t so tough,” Kousei joked, as he flipped his shakujo around to the spear end. The trio charged the soldiers.In a flash of golden light Kado appeared on the battlefield. He began chanting, his voice echoing throughout the forest, his eyes glowing gold with the power coursing through him. The soldiers stopped, and started shaking, almost convulsing before collapsing, the smoke rising from their empty suits. The earth split, emanating from his shakujo, separating the two groups. “Go! Now!” Kado ordered. None of the trio argued, and promptly teleported back to the house. Kado waited until they were safely away before following them.The trio and Kado reappeared in the safety of the garden. Natsuhiko banished his armor and subarmor, almost collapsing before Kado caught him. “Let’s get you to the healers,” Kado urged as he helped Natsuhiko to the other end of the house. Harume and Kousei followed Kado and Natsuhiko. They stripped the wounded warrior examining his injuries. They washed the open wounds, placing herbs and different remedies over them to encourage faster healing. Natsuhiko was completely exhausted from the battle, falling into a restless sleep. That evening, Natsuhiko woke and made his way to the garden. Harume and Kousei sat silently on the porch, welcoming him."I wish he were here," Kousei mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest, longing for his brother-in-arms, Naga."Natsu?" Harume prodded, waiting for direction from their second-in-command.“He won’t come back,” Natsuhiko commented a matter of fact, knowing full well that Naga’s mission was just as important as their own. “Even if we asked him too. We might have to recruit the Elemental Bearers.”"We don't have a choice. We won't be able to hold them off if we continue like this," Harume whispered, meeting Natsuhiko’s tired gaze. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Kado observed the five teens, living their lives obliviously, through the viewing mirror that he acquired after the fall of Talpa. He smiled sadly, looking away and pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew soon how much their lives were going to change and how difficult the coming challenges would be for them, for everyone...“So this is your final decision?” Kado asked Natsuhiko as they sat in his office, Harume and Kousei flanking him. They had been watching the Elemental heirs for about a week now, trying to find out as much as they could from indirect contact to make the transition as easy for them as possible. “Yes sensei, we can’t defeat Talpa the way we are now,” Natsuhiko replied. “Very well. Take Kousei with you, I think he is getting a little stir crazy,” Kado chuckled. Natsuhiko, Harume, and Kousei appeared in a forest on the edge of a lake, a small cabin standing at its edge. They dressed in modern clothes, the only indication of their magic hanging around their necks.“They look like they are having fun,” Kousei smiled at the two boys playing, almost disappointed that he had lost some of his childhood since leaving his mother.“Indeed,” Natsuhiko replied, walking down the hill towards the house. “We’ll pick this one up, then Kousei you get Halo, our furry friend will get Wildfire, I’ll get Strata, if you don’t mind looking after Torrent, Harume. We’ll meet up at Hardrock’s to pick him up and have dinner.” Harume and Kousei nodded in agreement.Natsuhiko knocked on the cabin door and a moment later a middle-aged woman opened the door. “What do you want?” the woman glared.“Are you Chizuru Mouri? My name is Natsuhiko Kuroda, this is Harume,” Natsuhiko introduced before the woman interrupted him.“I know who you are. You look like your parents. Where are the other ones?” Chizuru folded her arms.“Please ma’am, may we come in and talk with you and your daughter?” Harume pleaded.“No! And you can tell that snake if he plans to drag my family into his mess he can come here himself!” Chizuru slammed the door in their faces. “Well… that was unexpected. I thought Mouri’s were level headed,” Harume blinked.“As much as I don’t want to resort to kidnapping…” Natsuhiko trailed off.“Don’t even think about it. Let’s get the others, maybe they can talk some sense into Mrs. Mouri,” Kousei suggested. Natsuhiko nodded and made his way back to the portal Kado had summoned for them. The skyline of a city greeted them and the trio filled in through the portal, arriving at the top of one of the buildings.“So, continue with the original plan?” Harume asked their leader.“Yes, Kousei will get Hardrock, White Blaze should have picked up Wildfire by now, I’ll get Strata, if you don’t mind going ahead and getting Halo Harume,” Natsuhiko asked. “We’ll take them home and see if Kado can talk some sense into Chizuru.” “Three portals coming up,” Kousei smiled. He closed his eyes in concentration, his chanting gradually growing louder. Natsuhiko sat in the back of the lecture hall, the large class size enabled him to blend in without the professor noticing. The Hashiba girl he was tasked with watching seemed to pay little attention to the lesson. He heard a crack and watched a piece of plaster landed on her notebook. Natsuhiko leapt into action as Dynasty soldiers came through the ceiling. He grabbed the blue haired girl out of the way of a soldier landing on the row of desks in front of them. Covering her head he pulled her underneath a desk to hide."Let go of me!" she protested, as she fought against his grip on her arm"Come with me," Natsuhiko urged "Forget it," she argued as soldiers started to attack the students who were trying to get away."If you don't you'll die!" Natsuhiko argued as the soldiers just kept coming. Misora looked reluctant but nodded in agreement. A magenta light enveloped them and the next moment they were the top of a building. Natsuhiko turned to address the entire group on the roof, “I know you are all probably scared and confused right now. Let’s get some food and we will explain.”Natsuhiko got them all a large round table at the local Chinese restaurant, The Golden Dragon. The hostess sat them and without looking at the menu, Natsuhiko asked her for everything they specialized in for the party to split. "So now that we are all here we can get to know each other a bit more," Natsuhiko began. "My name is Natsuhiko Kuroda and I'm twenty-three years old. I enjoy reading and puzzles and I dislike the sand and monotony.""My name is Harume Koma and I'm twenty-one. I like cooking and playing the flute, I dislike horror movies," Harume continued."My name is Kousei Kadou and I'm thirteen. I like looking at the stars or lounging in the grass, basically being in nature; I dislike the city, it's too hot and noisy for my liking," Kousei continued cheerfully."I'm Kazumitsu Date and I'm twenty. I don't like sitting in one place for too long and I like rock climbing," the blond continued awkwardly."Misora Hashiba, nineteen. I hate messy rooms and clutter but I do like looking at the stars and graphic design," Misora said, looking around the group. "I'm Ken Sanada and I'm twenty-one years old. I like driving fast cars and lots of music, and I dislike being bored," the black haired young man introduced."Good now that we all know each other we'll eat here before we all head to the our home to start training," Natsuhiko smiled, he was putting on a face to try and make them all feel welcome. There was no need to scare them and tell them all the details just yet."I'm a bit confused," Misora started but was interrupted as a teen with ashen hair and dark orange eyes brought them a tray full of food."You guys must be hungry," the server joked as he put the tray on a stand and placed the dishes on the center of the table that spun around."Thanks Daichi," Harume helped him place the food on the spinning table."Do I know you?" Daichi asked, he wasn't wearing a nametag."You will soon," Harume smiled as she grabbed his wrist before a golden light engulfed the table. Kado was sitting at his desk, writing his usual monthly report to the Youjakai lords, the previous Bearers, when heard a loud thud come from down the hall. He smiled to himself, figuring that it was their new housemates. He reached down and ran his fingers through Byakuen's soft fur."Lets go greet our guests Byakuen," Kado smiled as he stood and slid the door open to the hall, the large white tiger lazily followed. The pair walked down the hall way to the main room at the front of the house and was greeted by the sight of seven young adults trying to untangle themselves from their fall. He coughed to announce himself to the newcomers and smiled a warm welcome, "Welcome, Ronin Warriors."
10178369	Out in the woods	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": null, "Fandom": "The Walking Dead (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by RebMed", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-08T00:00:00", "words": "723", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": null, "Character": "Jesus (Walking Dead)", "Relationships": null, "Series": "Gas", "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 times she went out again it was weird. She had already been in groups before, but these people were different. She felt safe, but uncomfortable at the same time, because she was in the need of coordinating. At least they were strong, clever and brave, so she didn't have to defend them unless they had troubles.They usually sought for food, medicines and other supplies. Her usual companion were Sasha, Aaron, Abraham, and sometimes Rosita, but only if Sasha didn't go. He liked them although she noticed the tension between some of them. Daryl didn't patrol anymore, he was always looking for people with Rick or visiting their new associates in the other community.She was surprised and proud of herself, because she managed to adapt to this new group quickly, and she always spoke up when she found anything, but usually the others didn't want it. She only kept a couple of things without telling, mostly junk that she thought could be nice to attach to clothes. All the food and needful things were immediately put together with the rest.Lux didn't use to talk much, because the rest of the group didn't do it either, but it was fine for her. She had already talked too much, and strangely enough, she didn't feel uncomfortable sharing all morning or day with silent partners, because it wasn't personal, she had done nothing wrong. The girls never talked about her story with Daryl and that was fine.That morning the heat was suffocating, she wouldn't get used to the wet weather in the South. They found a diner in the middle of nowhere, and although they wouldn't risk entering to the bar, for it was too risky and not valuable, they managed to enter the back storage room. They found some food in cans and cleaning supplies, soap, detergent and sponges. There were a lot of walkers inside the bar, but someone had locked it down and they didn't mean a problem. Regarding the back, they found some corpses that they had to eliminate in order to break into the storing room. Lux had learned to not bother killing the ones that didn't put her in risk, but she was fast and eager to kill the ones that did."You are not like the others.” Paul Rovia had been following her movements all morning."What?” Lux was cleaning her knives."You are not like the other girls.”"Hell, I have not been told that since high school!” she laughed."No, I mean it, the others hate killing walkers. You like it. You enjoy it!”"Dude, it's something you have to do to survive, you eat or get eaten. That's how it goes.”"Bullshit! It's not even disgusting for you, it's an RPG. I've seen testosterone pumping through your veins ha ha.”"So what? What difference does it make? I get stuff done, it doesn't matter how I feel.”She turned away to join the others."Hey, I didn't mean...” Jesus tried to redeem himself."What do you want?” she screamed, turning around "Huh? Do you want me to be like you? Do you want me to be like Carol? Like any other you prefer? Well, I'm sorry, this is what I have left, these are my remains. I just hope they come for any good.”"Listen, I wasn't judging you. I was pointing out that I think you don't suffer like the others for doing what you have to do. And that's cool.”"Right.” She exhaled and calmed down. "Hey, watch! There is one behind you.” she moved to the left and threw a knife towards the walker."Thanks! You have a nice pendant. What is it?” He approached her, his big blue eyes staring at her neck."It's stupid. I had kept a piece of paper with sketches on it, and the other day I found it stuck inside my old backpack. There was sticky tape in the office in Alexandria and I folded it in.”"It looks like a... skirt? Is it a skirt?”"Yes... I used to design clothes as a hobby.”"That's great! Were you an artist or a retailer?”"I was... a dancer.” she kept silent for a while. "You don't look like Jesus, you look like Jared Leto. Jared Leto on pot.”"Well thank you, dancer.”
10106762	First Impressions	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": null, "Characters": "Nijimura Shuuzou, Haizaki Shougo, Midorima Shintarou, Kuroko Tetsuya, Murasakibara Atsushi, Akashi Seijuurou, Kise Ryouta, Aomine Daiki, Momoi Satsuki", "Fandom": "Kuroko no Basuke \| Kuroko's Basketball", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by Devil_Starfire", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-02T00:00:00", "words": "2,863", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "OC/Shuzo Nijimura, OC/ Haizaki Shougo, OC/Midorima Shintarou, OC/Kuroko Tetsuya, OC/Murasakibara Atsushi, OC/Akashi seijuurou, OC/Kise Ryouta, Oc/Aomine Daiki, OC/Satsuki Momoi, OC/GoM", "Series": "An Overactive Imagination", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "Gen, F/M", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	The same day 4 1st year boys made it to the 1st string (apparently it has never happened, so it's a big deal. I don't really care but seeing Aomine happy makes me happy) was also the day Momoi and I ended up joining the managing team. And as much as the technicality of it all was important, I figured getting to know the boys was even more important. So, it has nothing to do with them being hot? Of course not. It's all... educational. Wanna elaborate on that, Einstein? My point being in a team, getting to know each other better helps you work with the team more efficiently. Right, cause a good relationship between the players and the water girl guarantees victory? Something like that. Now, shut up already, brain! This is what represented Teiko to me. An extremely dysfunctional happy family capable of having it's own sitcom with the amount of drama I see on a daily basis. Shuzo Nijimura Captain. Senpai. Hella cute. I'm ignoring you, brain. Until you cross a line. I seem to like this arrangement. I had no idea on how to approach him cause, honestly, I was a tiny bit scared of him. Are you blind? That's a fine boy. What's there to be scared of? He was always so serious, never smiled and commanded his team with an iron fist. It wasn't like he was heartless or completely oblivious to reason, more like he was a stern mother. The type who would take care of you if you came home with a scrapped knee before proceeding to whack you with a wooden spoon for being so bloody god forsaken-ly clumsy. The one time I gave him a water bottle after practice was over cause he looked so exhausted; he smiled at me gratefully and ended up ruffling my hair before walking to join the coach. I didn't know how to react to that. It was too sudden. I just gawked at him. I felt like an idiot. I wanted to properly introduce myself, so I waited for him after practice. "Are you okay?" His voiced echoed in the dark. I must have jumped for he quickly apologized for startling me. It all went downhill from there. I wasn't able to form coherent sentences and kept stuttering. He smiled and placed his hand on my shoulder, effectively shutting me up. "Welcome to the team. I am really grateful for all the things that you will be doing for this team for the next 3 years. Those boys are fools, so take care of them for me, Kay?" I nodded, totally agreeing with him what a bunch of imbeciles those kids were. For me, he truly shines as a captain when he makes an effort to make the team as warm and friendly as possible.Also, did I mention senpai is strong? And, it doesn't hurt to know he has an awesome body, yes? Brain, those red marks... IS THAT HICKEYS? Ahhh, I figured you might not notice.. BRAIN!! Haizaki Shougo I. DO. NOT. LIKE. HIM. CAUSE. HE. STEALS. MY. FOOD!But, I admit. He is cute with the silver hair and the bad boy attitude. And he is a player. His commitment to basketball is the same as it is to women. Fickle. Short-lasting. Only when it's fun. However, he does have skills and is really good. Wasting his talents like that, it's such a shame. Aomine hates him and due to that, I never really got the chance to get to know him. Aomine is like a protective shield that swoops in and drags me away every time Haizaki is anywhere near me. I wonder if he is jealous? I always had the feeling that the boy tries too hard to be bad. Like he wants people to hate and despise him. I know he loves basketball somewhere deep down that cold, twisted heart of his cause the way he plays; it shows passion. But he certainly has issues he needs to work out. Being sad doesn't give you a right to be less than a decent human being. Speaking about issues.... I think they share a sadist-masochist relationship. For goodness sake, brain! STOP! Midorima Shintaro Ahhhh, glasses. I really like him but I had no idea how to diffuse this awkward tension that seems to surround us. Maybe it has something to do with the Momoi incident. After Aomine, I liked watching him play best. Those 3s. Fuck, they were incredible. Especially those high projectile ones and the way he runs back to the other side of the court even before the shot enters the hoop. Such confidence in himself, in his skills. He is a prodigy! One of the most talented in his year. OF COURSE HE IS CONFIDENT. And are you even going to talk about his insane obsession with horoscopes?? For a guy who looks so bloody practical, no one finds this unhealthy fixation worrisome? How rich is he to be able to purchase a new bloody lucky item every single freaking day and never use it ever again! I mean, does he have a storage to store them? How big of a space does he need? His family is okay with this mental shit and they actually sponsor him? Or does he throw them away? Isn't that wasting? Or does he sell it? Isn't it tiring? And that finger tapping thing he does, is he trying to cut off his blood circulation? Doing it once in a while, acceptable. But on a daily basis and for a long extended time period? That is so gonna have some sorta messed up circulation disturbance in the future. Done ranting, brain? Well, yes. For now. I have never seen him miss, not even during practice. And yet, he practices just as hard as everyone else, sometimes even more so. Silently, solitary, tirelessly. Day in and day out. He doesn't look for a strong opponent to compete against and regardless of who he faces, he always gives his 100%.Admirable, I would say. Well, when he plays seriously, doesn't he remind you of the glasses guy in Tokyo Ghoul? Will you stop breaking down the bloody 4th wall already!? Kuroko Tetsuya Shit, wrong image! Hmmm, still not quite right. Wow, that went from 100 to zero real quick. Yes! That's him!I always had this guilty feeling that liking him was the same as liking a child. It felt impure. Like I was defiling a child's innocence. I really wonder how Momoi does it. Ahhh, that makes sense. Seriously? How can one be so innocent and sinful at the same time? Fuck. This is the kind of guy that guys like, right? Pretty enough to be a girl yet still manly in his own way? Do I look gay to you? Why do you ask me? I'm sorry. I didn't know I could walk out of your skull and have a conversation with someone. You are an asshole. Well, I am you, after all. I found it amusing that people can't notice him. They say it's his lack of presence. Striking blue hair like that is something that stands out, no? He feels like an old soul. Someone who knows more than their age. Patient enough to handle Aho-mine. That's a plus point. Doesn't sugarcoat his words, another quality that is quite rare to find in someone as young as him. Very polite and doesn't talk unnecessarily. Prefers being alone but doesn't mind the company either. Strong sense of friendship and compassion.His love and dedication for basketball blows me away. He is the complete opposite of me. He isn't a really strong player, in fact I have a feeling I might actually be better than him. But he never gives up. He practices the hardest and gives his all to move forward. His talents are unique and not something anyone can copy. A guy that can solidify and unify a team just by being present. Now, that's awesome. Reminds me of a fairytale with a happy ending. Murasakibara Atsushi There are two things that can be associated with Murasakibara : He is as lazy as lazy can be. Doesn't move a muscle unless necessary and will not do anything that he finds to be troublesome. Junk food is life. Eat, breathe and sleep snacks. He won't kill you as long as you don't touch his snacks and will do anything if offered snacks. Murasakibara is a very easy kid to control. He is my favorite titan child. Titan? FUCK, TITAN!! The fuck, brain!? You scared the hell out of me! I need to get rid of that image from my head! Areeghhh, that was scarier than I thought! Awwwww, my Titan boy is so cute! I need more, brain! Okay, I am all fuzzy now. Thank you, brain. Don't you ever dare scar me like that ever again. Lesson learnt. Murasakibara is my guilty pleasure. I spoil him excessively when no one is looking. He loves snacks and always has one at a moment's notice. His height and active lifestyle is the two things that is keeping him fit and not fat. The same can't be said for me. I am neither tall nor as active as he is in sports. Although the stress of being involved in a million things is more than enough to counter my stress eating. Murasakibara doesn't like to share food. He is scary when someone takes anything that belongs to him.However, when it comes to me... He doesn't hesitate to offer whatever it is he is eating. Sometimes, I wish he doesn't give me anything. Even if I'm salivating or staring at him with big puppy dog eyes. Just ignore me. Be the cold hearted bastard you were meant to be. Fulfill your destiny. But no. If he gets his hands on something new, he drags me to an abandon spot and reveals it to me as if he just found gold. I really hope he learns that abandon spots are meant for making out. Don't spoil my child! He is disinterested in practically everything. A natural prodigy who can pick up any game effortlessly due to his innate athletic abilities and quick reflex. His huge body is more of an advantage rather than a disadvantage. For a child who had everything come to him easy, he never really understood the concept of hard work and diligence. He considers all those that work hard are idiots. Kuroko and he never got along in this one particular issue. Who cares? He is fucking hot. What a simple minded brain. Thank you. Now just appreciate god's creation. Akashi Seijuro Sweet. Disciplined. Mild-mannered. Winner's mentality. Hot as fuck! Are you blind? Why do you always, ALWAYS imagine them so indecently? Why not? I need some eye candy. And those boys are the highest quality of candy anyone can find. You are giving me a heartache. Go away. He was not as scary as Nijimura but there was something off about him. Nothing bad thou. It's just that I couldn't place my finger on it. It was like an itch I couldn't scratch away.Akashi was the shortest of them all. He was the only guy I could directly talk to without needing to step back or strain my neck looking up. His eyes. So fucking beautiful. Oh, his eyes you notice! And if I notice the body, it's wrong? Not gonna argue with idiots. You do know I'm YOUR brain? Ignoring you now. He has these walls around him that prevents anyone from getting too close to him. He maintains a good relationship with everyone but no one knows anything about him. He is secretive and private about his life and isn't really interested in the lives of others as long as it doesn't jeopardize his winning streak.Extremely talented and somewhat of an all rounder genius. Due to his prestigious background, he had a hard, stressful life. None of us know details, but we get the general idea of what a sole heir to a high class family has to endure.He seems to be at peace hanging out with the boys and if I'm lucky, I can see him smiling warmly at someone. He is the only one who notices when I'm not with the rest of the group. He looks out for everyone and does his utmost best to keep all of us together. In a way, I think we are precious to him. And even if I am contended looking at him from afar, he is precious to me too. And even if none of the others say it, Akashi has a very special place in their hearts as well. Not sure it's respect, love or fear. Why do you not break down that boy's walls? Be friends. Be something more. It's not that easy. You just need the motivation. ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME, BRAIN?? Sacrifices need to be made for the greater good. Kise Ryota Holy fuck! My biggest problem presented itself in my 2nd year of Teiko. The final puzzle that completed the team. The Golden Boy.He was a model. Explains the good looks. On top of that, capable of playing any form of sports without breaking a sweat. Only needs to see it a few times and he gets the hang of it. Isn't that a little bit too much? Looks AND talent? Brain, you just described ALL of them. Oh, right. He joined the basketball team after getting excited watching Aomine play. A very annoyingly happy child. Always laughing. Always making jokes. Very competitive and in a way, proud. You were swept off your feet, right? Shut it! I only like Aomine! Sure? Stop. Doing. That. Don't make me have a brain transplant. That's an empty threat and there is no such thing. Kise enjoyed basketball. He found it to be fun. One of the normal ones, I would say. He loved his teammates and made his feelings known to each and everyone of them.He has the characteristics of a golden retriever. Loyal and fun. What sets him apart from his teammates? He can perfectly copy any move he sees on the court. He doesn't have his own style but usually takes someone else's and makes it his own. I KNEW IT! Knew what? Hatake Kakashi passed down his Sharingan to the kid! Will you stop bringing other animes into this? AHA, YOU BROKE THE FORTH WALL! SHUT UP, BRAIN! And you broke it first! As much as he was a fantastic model, he falls short as an actor. Not always are Kise's smiles or laughter genuine. Sometimes they do not reach his eyes. Sometimes, they sound hallow, devoid of feeling. More like a mechanical reflex. One day, I told him off for being fake with me. He seemed genuinely surprised. "How do you know?" He asked. "Anyone who takes the initiative to know the real you, will know." I simply replied. And that sealed the deal.I ended up with a new best friend. One that I did not ask for. One that considers smiling like that legal. And casually uses me as his fake girlfriend to run away from his fans. One that doesn't understand personal space. And certainly considers Aomine his rival and takes all the little attention Baka-mine gives me. An annoyingly adorably sexy best friend. My heart won't be able to take much more of this! On a completely unrelated note... Doesn't he remind you of a really pretty girl? SERIOUSLY, SHUT THE HELL UP!! Aomine Daiki & Satsuki Momoi Nope! Not gonna talk about them. It would take forever and I still won't be done talking. NOPE. You know the problem with delusional people? What? They have strong convictions about something despite superior evidence to the contrary. Was that a copy and paste from wiki? Well, yes and no. I did copy it from wiki but I had to alter d sentence structure just to get my point across. And what is your point? That is not normal. You got to be sick to ship those two together. They are practically siblings. Momoi finds Aomine too high maintenance to even consider him a future prospect. She likes Kuroko, yes? Besides - They fight like cats and dogs! It's impossible for girls and guys to just be friends. Kuroko is probably a crush, a fling. Aomine is her soulmate. Fighting just strengthens a bond, not weakens it. As I said, they are practically siblings! You and Aomine are friends. Not those two. Stop making up how her relationships work! You never know. You are an idiot. Stop assuming and at least confess to Momoi that you like him. GET LOST, BRAIN! Shit, fuck. What if brain is right? OF COURSE I AM. Leave me alone to think, can you? I'm your brain! Where exactly do you want me to go? Fuck, why do I keep forgetting that you ain't an annoying plankton whispering in my ear! I hate it that you can read my thoughts! Technically, they are mine as well. Well......fuck you.
10176395	Check-in Check-out	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Takaba Akihito, Kirishima Kei", "Fandom": "Finder no Hyouteki \| Finder Series", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by KomakiTigerDrop", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-08T00:00:00", "words": "2,806", "Additional Tags": "Not Really Character Death, Humor, Surreal, Deleted Scenes, Comedy", "Relationship": "Asami Ryuichi/Takaba Akihito", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Deleted Scenes_Grace Period is Over", "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 }	Kirishima Kei let out a relieved sigh when the last few people in front of him left the line.It was finally his turn.He squared his shoulders, ready to hand in his check-in form, all filled with precise, beautifully handwritten answers, but when the brown-haired nurse behind the counter raised her eyes to his face, his words died in his throat.“Mirai?” he asked quietly, staring at the familiar almond-shaped eyes with a mixture of shock and fascination.“Excuse me?”The woman’s slightly confused tone made him feel like a bucket of icy water had just been dumped over his head.“Oh. Nothing,” he said quickly, pushing his glasses farther up his nose and blushing slightly when he noticed his eyes had dropped to the nurse’s rather deep cleavage. “You just remind me of someone.”As he passed her the clipboard with the papers, Kirishima took a moment to look around. He could not actually remember ever seeing a “check-in” desk at a hospital, and the fact there were no other nurses or doctors despite the very long line of… patients, made everything even more suspicious.“How are you today… Kei?” the nurse asked, her voice soft and melodic as she stamped the form he had handed in.“Fine,” he replied, a small smirk curling the corners of his mouth when she looked at him again. “Although I’m still not sure as to where I am.”“You’re all good,” the woman replied, standing up to grab a key in a cupboard behind her. “We have a beautiful room prepared for you,” she continued, her lips curved in a sensual smile. “And it looks like I’m your assigned nurse…”The excitement made him tingle from head to toe.That long brown hair, the slender arms, the scent of spicy leather… it had to be her!“Mirai...”His voice was no louder than a whisper, but the way her smile widened made it clear she had listened.“Kirishima!”“Hmm?” he asked, his eyes fixated on the key the woman was holding in front of him. “Kirishima!” The feeling of someone yanking his arm made him finally turn around.“You…” he said, with a frown so deep his eyebrows were almost connected. “What are you doing here?”++++ That was a very good question. Akihito had no idea as to where he was, for starters. All he knew was that he had spotted the secretary while trying to find his way out of that ridiculously big… something, that looked a lot like a hospital but also as a hotel.Definitely, that did not look like the place where he was supposed to be.“Kirishima, are we dead?” he asked, his pitch slightly higher than usual.“No, of course- Oh,” the frown on Kirishima’s face slowly gave way to a look of annoyance, which was quickly replaced by surprise. “Wait. Check-in, is that-”“If you choose to leave, you should fill the yellow form and take it to the checkout counter over there,” the nurse explained, pointing to a line that was at least five times longer than the one they were in. “But if you want to stay…”“Stay?” Akihito asked. “As in, stay dead?”“Yes,” the woman replied. That had to be a joke. “So I’m dead?” he shrieked, eyes wide as he looked from the nurse to the man by his side.“No.”“Yes or no?” the photographer snarled.“You’re in the in-between,” the nurse said after a small shrug, with the same casual tone as someone engaging in trivial talk about the weather. “You can check in, or you can check out.”“Which one is the ‘not-dead’ option?” he asked, shifting restlessly on his feet.“The check-out is the way back.”“Thank you very much,” he replied, stealing a glance at the clipboard the nurse was holding a second before snatching it from her hand. “Idiot, you filled the wrong form,” he whispered, before removing the green page with the secretary’s signature and tearing it in half.“Let me know if you need a new one,” the woman replied, winking at the bespectacled man by his side.“We just need the yellow form, thanks,” Akihito chuckled, after shaking his head energetically, more than ready to move away.Kirishima, on the other hand, looked hypnotized.“Yes…” Akihito saw him mumble in response.“Stop flirting with the nurse, Kirishima!” he hissed. “Asami is waiting for us!”After yanking the man’s arm again, the photographer finally managed to drag him towards the right line.“Did you see her?” the secretary asked.“Yes. She looked an awful lot like Maya’s mother.”“So it’s not just my imagination…”“Oh, it is, trust me,” Akihito replied, after a scoff. “Real nurses don’t wear outfits that tight, or show that much cleavage, so yes, I’m sure this is your imagination, and somehow I’m stuck inside it!”His voice was hitting that crescendo of irritation that usually made his ears go red, but he couldn’t possibly care less about keeping it down.“Why are you so agitated?” Kirishima asked.“You should be agitated too!” he replied, one of his hands curled into a fist as the other shook the clipboard vigorously. “We are in the in-between, Kirishima! You almost crossed to the other side!” he blared. “What part of that sounds good to you?”Before the man had the chance to open his mouth, though, Akihito continued.“Asami needs us,” he said, steadying his voice after a long, deep breath.Those words seemed to have done the trick. The eyes behind the glasses lit up, and Kirishima’s face immediately regained its usual stoic, determined expression.“Do you really think you need to remind me of that?” he asked, with a very angry frown.“Apparently!” the photographer replied, his eyes defiant as he spoke.The brief argument, however, was interrupted when the room was invaded by the most delicious scent.“Can you smell that?” Akihito whispered, eyes closed as he let the familiar smell fill his nostrils.“Yes…”“Lotus flowers!” he said.“Caramel!” Kirishima exclaimed at the same time.The divergent responses made the two men open their eyes and raise an eyebrow.++++“Wait,” Kirishima heard the photographer ask some time later, when the line seemed to finally move a little. “‘Check asset you wish to forfeit’? What the hell does this mean?”He quickly located the item Akihito was referring to - one that he did not remember having to answer in his previous form.“I might be reading it wrong,” he replied, looking at his own form over the rim of his glasses, “but it looks like that is the price we have to pay for the check-out.”Akihito’s eyes went wide.“You mean… We have to give up one of these things?” he whispered.“Most likely.”“Forever?”Kirishima nodded quietly in response. The terms in the form were rather vague, but at the end of the day, it was just like everyone said. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. “Crap…” he heard the photographer complain. “I don’t even know what these options are!”“Let me see them.”“‘Temporal Lobe’,” Akihito tapped his pen on the first item as he read it. “Does that have anything to do with time?”“Yes. It’s the part of the brain responsible for memory, among other things.”“Fuck! I don’t want to lose my memory!” the younger man exclaimed in response, before moving on to the next alternative. “Oc- Occiti- Ocipi-”“Occipital Lobe.”The photographer frowned, looking confused.“I'm not sure about that one,” Kirishima whispered, “but it might have something to do with vision.”“It 'might'?”“I would not pick that one, just to be safe,” he added. “What's next?”“Speech, pancreas and sexual function,” the photographer replied. “The last one is not really an option so I'm stuck with one of the first two.”“Hm…”“What now?” Akihito asked, his tone of voice verging on sheer panic. “Speech… Does that mean I won't be able to speak anymore? As in, never again?”Kirishima couldn’t help but smirk.“Could I be that lucky?” he whispered.The photographer, however, did not look amused.“Haha, very funny,” he said, after narrowing his eyes. “Hilarious.”“I was thinking of ‘relief’, but ‘funny’ works too.”“You are being mean,” Akihito hissed. “This is serious!”“Fine, my apologies.”After a very long moment of concerned silence, the photographer spoke again.“Well, I can always choose “pancreas”, right?” he said. “I mean, it's not a vital organ or anything, is it?”It was Kirishima’s turn to narrow his eyes.“Do you even know what a pancreas does?” he asked.“I don't,” the photographer replied, “but if it is not a vital organ, then I assume that what it does is not vital!”The secretary sighed.No wonder his boss was always worried sick about that rascal - Takaba Akihito, sometimes, could have the most absurd ideas.“Sure, go ahead, give up your pancreas,” he muttered. “It should be fine, in case you want to depend on insulin injections for the rest of your life.”“Insulin? What does that have to do with anything?”“Did they even teach you basic Biology at school?”In a matter of seconds, Takaba Akihito was once again foaming at the mouth. “Are you- You know what, I think I heard someone at the counter call your name,” he ranted. “It looks like you dropped your Mr-Know-It-All badge as you walked to the end of the line to be with the rest of us, the ignorant fools!”Not for the first time since they joined that line, a few heads turned around to look at them, but the expression on everyone’s face, this time, was more intense than usual.“No offense,” Akihito quickly added, apologetically.“Just fill the damn questionnaire,” Kirishima snarled in response.“If you stop picking a fight, I will.”“I’m not picking a fight.”As the photographer continued to scribble on his piece of paper, with a pout as big as his stubbornness, Kirishima smirked internally. That brat. ++++He was beginning to feel that he had been standing in that damn line for days instead of minutes or hours.The smell of the lotus flowers was long gone, replaced by an even better scent, one that made him feel like he was floating above the clouds.Asami’s cologne.Every now and then, he would feel this unexplainable warmth spread all over his body, as if he was wrapped in a soft, cozy blanket, his ear tingling as Asami’s voice whispered things he could not always understand.His voice sounded so urgent and bleak…They really needed to get back.“Fine,” he said, after a disheartened sigh. “I guess it's speech for me,” he finally announced, staring at the floor as he dragged his feet one step closer to the checkout counter. “Goodbye singing in the shower and talking on the phone...”“And screaming,” Kirishima added, his voice barely audible when he continued. “And moaning.”Akihito stopped on his tracks, a malicious smirk curling the corners of his mouth.“Oh, now I see why you want to mute me,” he said, watching as the secretary rolled his eyes. “Am I really that loud?”“You have no idea.”The photographer tilted his chin up, proudly. Yes, he knew he was really that loud, and he knew that Asami was always really turned on by his vocal displays of pleasure.Too bad he would no longer be able to embarrass Kirishima with his usual screaming and moaning, but at least they could still rely on Asami’s grunts and shameless comments to make the secretary blush at least a little.“Crap…” Akihito whispered some time later, when all the latest radio hits seemed to enter his mind at once. “Now all I can think about is all the karaoke songs I will never get to sing!”His comment only elicited another eyeroll from the man by his side.“What were your options, by the way?” he asked, trying to steal a glance at Kirishima’s form.“None of your business.”“Kirishima…” Akihito replied, raising an eyebrow. “For someone that is always criticizing my manners, you have quite the attitude, you know ?”After a long moment of indecision, in which the secretary seemed to be struggling with the urge to give him another impolite response, Kirishima finally passed him the yellow paper attached to his clipboard.“Fine...” Victory. “Sexual function,” Akihito started reading aloud, only to be shushed by a very flustered Kirishima. “Leg movement. Lung integrity,” he continued. “What do they mean by 'lung integrity'?”“I don’t know, but it sounds serious.”“Kidneys. Brainstem,” Akihito then paused, and frowned. “Brainstem?”“If it has “brain” on it, you don’t want to mess with it,” Kirishima replied, after a shrug. “It’s a good rule to follow.”“Right…” he nodded in agreement, before frowning again. “Wait, and you chose ‘leg movement’, when you had ‘sexual function’?”Kirishima pursed his lips, and squared his shoulders before replying.“Well, you had “sexual function” too and you didn’t pick it either.”“It’s different.”“Well, clearly,” the secretary argued, his eyes going wide as he spoke. “But the fact I’m not as active as you doesn’t mean I’m not active.”“Sure,” the photographer chuckled.“What are you implying?”“I’m just saying, and correct me if I’m wrong,” Akihito said, after clearing his throat, “that you don’t seem to make as much use of your ‘sexual function’ as you do of your ‘leg movement’.”He had to force himself not to burst into laughter. Kirishima’s face looked like a ripe tomato."Thanks for sharing your thoughts," the secretary replied, "but I assure you’re off the mark."“Oh yeah? Well…” he paused to clear his throat again and stifle a chuckle. “If Asami ever finds out you had the option, he’s going to be pretty mad at you.”“I’m sure he would understand,” the secretary replied, with his usual pomp and elegance. “He, of all people, would never give up ‘sexual function’ himself.”“That is true,” the photographer agreed, his eyes distant and wide as he gave a thoughtful nod. “I wonder what he would pick…”“Nothing,” Kirishima was quick to answer. “He would instead burn this place to the ground and demand his immediate discharge.”The two of them smirked.“Yeah, I can see him doing that…” Akihito whispered. He missed the damn bastard. “Can I have my form back now?” the secretary asked, forcing him to snap out of his blues. “Has it given you the perspective you needed?”“Yeah…”“I bet ‘not singing karaoke ever again’ doesn’t sound so bad now, huh?”Akihito nodded as he returned the green paper and the clipboard to the man by his side.All he wanted was to go back home.++++“I can't stop thinking about Asami.”He was quite sure it was the eleventh time he heard that sentence, but stopped himself from complaining as the photographer voiced his concerns.“I think I heard his voice earlier today,” he heard the younger man continue. “I mean, I don't even know, is time the same here?”“Probably not,” Kirishima replied. “I’ve heard many voices ever since I got here, but it's hard to tell which voice is whose. It's annoying. That, and all the chewing.”“Chewing?”“Yes.”It felt like someone had been having his meals right next to his left ear.Knowing his relatively small circle of acquaintances and all their weird quirks, he was willing to bet his money the noisy eater was Shinada Tatsuo.“But I know what you mean,” he continued, noticing that the man by his side still looked pretty down in the dumps. “I think Asami-sama’s voice is the saddest,” he said. “I heard it too.”The photographer was about to open his mouth to comment, but their arrival at the elusive checkout counter seemed to have derailed his train of thought.“You didn’t answer the asset question,” the nurse behind the counter pointed out, as soon as Akihito handed in his form.“Damn.”With an impatient grunt, the photographer checked the desired box and returned the clipboard, tapping his fingers nervously on the glassy surface of the desk.“Excellent,” the nurse replied, with a satisfied grin. “You're good to go, gentlemen.”“Great,” Akihito muttered, jumping on the spot as he prepared to rush towards the exit. “Let's go.”It was by mere chance that Kirishima glanced at the desk one last time.His jaw nearly dropped.“E-Excuse me, I'm sorry, I think there is a mistake,” he said, pointing to the form Akihito had filled. “He checked the wrong box. Akihito, oi,” he called out. “You ch-”“Too late,” the nurse interrupted, lacing his fingers over the desk. “He's already gone back.”And indeed, when Kirishima looked at the door leading to the exit, the photographer was no longer there.“Crap,” he whispered.
10165598	Shallowcut	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "文豪ストレイドッグス \| Bungou Stray Dogs", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by meupclose", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-07T00:00:00", "words": "3,592", "Additional Tags": "Knifeplay, Gunplay, agency!dazai, just pure smut enjoy some, Bottom Dazai, after chuuya realizes its actually what he wanted, some dirty talk, chuuya knows dazai really well hehe, switching and roughish sex in the beginning, Chuuya's POV", "Relationship": "Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs)", "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 chilly out. Rain partially froze the longer the night progressed and pounded against the window panes forcing a clatter of white noise into the warm space. A fire had been lit hours ago when they had dinner, but now rested in dark embers of crimson and black charcoal casting eerie shadows along the studio space. Scents of food lingered about the large open area, though his mouth wasn't watering for anything more than the other behind him. Silk sheets gave Chuuya a difficult time getting any proper grip for his position, fingers webbed in desperation to get a decent holding so he could reposition and feel the enkindled burst of pleasure from the change.Chuuya had watched all night unfold as if he was sitting curled up in the window reading one of his favorite books. It was a rarity to open his door and face a subdued Dazai. Hair tangled across his nose and curled from the weather around the edge of his ear lobes. Droplets clung to eyelashes and trickled to make his coat dark brown in crying lines of moisture. Chuuya had stepped aside to let him enter without any other words. The entire house changed the moment he allowed the mackerel to cross the threshold as if some higher power was laughing at his resolve and was hoping the two would notice the red strings of fate tied around both their pinkies.Dinner had been in soft-spoken whispers. Raw tuna and sticky rice dipped in soy sauce and the perfect wine. Chuuya noticed things only he would ever see. Chomping on crunchy green beans while he leaned forward on the table to give Dazai his full attention. He had been keen to speak about stupid things like random facts and things he'd like to do to other women or friends not known to Chuuya. But around distracting conversations, Chuuya picked up on the length of his shirt sleeves and how they were drawn tight to his wrists to the point he couldn't see the scratch of bandages. Along his frame cradled his shoulders in very soft cotton over a button down for work-- something casual and a sign for comfort. Chuuya saw the hint of gray under his eyes, and the tall tell sign of fatigue Dazai hid behind vibrant smiles and salty arrogance.Dazai was hiding something again-- maybe being a detective wasn't all fun and games as it had been when they were sent out. Why waste his talent on the innocent?Moments later, the curve of Chuuya’s spine arched up unexpectedly, upper shoulders blades colliding against Dazai’s chest while a torturous moan fell passed his lips. Dazai was relentless now that Chuuya had stripped down and offered his bed to the other as if they weren't supposed to hate one another. Tiny bruises raked down hips and along the plains of his shoulders making every little shift of his body ache and fill with a thrum of pleasure to the sharp jabs of pain. Chuuya’s hand fell back; fingers grasped tightly to the sweaty strands of hair along the base of Dazai’s head. Gripping them impossibly tight to the point a growl met his ear, snapping teeth into the meat of his neck. He wanted to turn around, to savor what he wanted more than anything else if he was completing being honest with himself. Would a kiss be too much, though?Another bite worried into the junction of his shoulder and neck and his knees buckle much to his frustration letting Dazai force him forward again, a sweaty palm pressed into the side of his face. Long fingers spread out to just catch long lashes and compressed tightly near the corner of his mouth in threat of covering it. It all served to hitch his breath in a coiling mixture of anger and deeper arousal. Dazai was rough tonight. Something was wrong-- Chuuya knew it all along, but the fact remained that he wanted more– could feel a growing feeling that was far deeper than what this entire exchange looked on the outside overwhelm his mind until he didn't fight it.The consistent pounding of sharp hipbones colliding into his backside was the only reminder that Dazai had allowed himself to have his way. Coming here to do this to Chuuya because why not? He'd let Dazai consume him anyway like a wildfire. To be burned and used in a way only Dazai could hope to drag out of his old partner because Chuuya liked the pain and the hurt-- it was all to ignite that dark part of them they loved more than life. Oh, how he missed the old Dazai. He wanted to watch him kill someone. See the glint of madness creep into his iris' and dilate his pupils to impossible sizes while he tortured someone for information. To see people tremble when they heard their name and how much it made Chuuya feel loved in a warped and troubled way. Did he love what he is now? Or was that why he was here at all?Dazai's nails curled to indent his cheeks in moon shaped threats filling his skin with rosy hues from the downward pressure, but he had the view regardless. Even though Dazai always insisted on having him this way right now– shoved into the bed and sometimes forgotten– Chuuya had learned how to see him fall apart. How when Dazai threw his head back exposing his neck gloriously pale and stretched tendons tugging at the bandages wrapped there from the awkward angle made Chuuya want to steal control and bite him back. To lick the pulse point there and ride him until he was screaming his name. He watched how Dazai's hair became a further mess, skin flushed and wanting.Chuuya didn’t dare to blink when lines forged across Dazai’s brow and his mouth fell open deliciously exposed and released a sound of desperation without realizing Chuuya was staring. His rhythm faltered in those seconds, the angle changing not to please himself but to give the idiot the best course to completion. Chuuya groaned into the linens because it still felt good, knowing he was just being used made natural anger twist hotly throughout all his veins. He resisted screaming in pleasure and frustration only to focus on the pressure on his face forcing him into the sheets now scented of them. Dazai seemed to forget it was him here the longer the seconds ticked by. Did he assume him some stupid throw away? Who was he imaging while he mumbled incoherent things into Chuuya's spine, hearing the saddest things spill out just enough to understand that made his heart thunder in concerns he didn't want to have with his old partner. Chuuya observed through Dazai’s fingers now likely bruising the tender skin on his high cheekbones as Dazai simply let go and came, shuddering his body into a boneless heap across all his back leaving Chuuya at the very edge of pleasure and stillness pausing everything to a frantic halt.Chuuya wanted more-- right the fuck now. It wasn’t fair how beautiful and irritating Dazai was equally. Like they were two special pieces Chuuya was able to watch put together and let him pretend the other could love him back. The other stayed still for another moment before gliding out bringing with it a great sense of loss and the disgusting reality that cum was sliding freely down his inside thighs. He was still being held down against his face, but Chuuya didn’t make to fight it– instead waited until Dazai plopped on his side and seemed to be content with only getting himself off before desired sleep.It would be easy to blow up right now, shame licked down his vertebrae, feeling gross inside out required a hard swallow to calm down. Chuuya shifted up, wincing from the position when a slight pain shot up his lower back. The sheets were ruined, but he took the second to reach over to the nightstand and grabbed a few tissues to clean up. His heart was the loudest outcry in the space-- and Dazai was freaking him out a little. He peaked over and realized he was still mostly dressed while himself was naked. Chuuya dampened his lips glaring down at his erection that was pulsing in too much heat for him to dare touch at the moment.Cleaned up he grabbed the lube and tossed it on the bed and crawled over until he was at Dazai's feet. He didn't ask, but Dazai's eyes remained closed-- fingers clasped together resting over his chest as if to signify he wished to be lowered into a coffin for eternal rest. Chuuya untied his shoes, dropping them onto the floor before peeling off each sock. His pants were open and unzipped, but Chuuya let his hands glide up both his legs. Leaning forward to drag his nose up his calf, moving higher until he could hook his hands under the bunch of fabric under his ass and pull the article down. Dazai cracked his eyes enough to meet his own."This didn't help-- did it? Seeing me," Chuuya hummed into his thigh, removing his pants from around his ankles to let them also hit the floor. The bandages coiled to fibrous muscle along his abdomen had shifted to give Chuuya a better look at the scars and lines marked into the intimate flesh there above his groin. He stuck his nose into the old wound-- inhaling dramatically and loud where he could scent the unique musk of Dazai.Dazai swallowed just thick enough to answer without any need for words and Chuuya's chest ached profoundly in aggression. He sat up to pull on each sleeve, dragging long arms out of the article until all Dazai was in was haphazardly bound bandages. Chuuya leaned forward and stopped a hair from his lips, Dazai's breath hitched and leaned the rest of the way to savor a rare kiss. It's been so long. Years and years, since they were a team, but the touch ignited a different need in Chuuya than it had back then."They are better for you as a whole. That is proof enough," Chuuya pressed his palms on both of Dazai's forearms to pin him down. Wanting to see if he flinched but nothing happened-- Dazai's eyes remained closed under him, lips parted as his breathing accelerated gently."But you want me for something..." Chuuya nudged his nose along Dazai's. Brushing his lips to his own without instigating a kiss but still shivering to the contact. "To cut you just like the old days?""No," Dazai frowned, frustration had tension seeping into Dazai's limbs, and Chuuya quietly sighed while he pulled out of his space."That's why you aren't one hundred percent satisfied with switching sides. Would your new partner do this for you?" Chuuya stated as if he knew all along what he needed and had taken it earlier for this very moment."I doubt it, but you aren't that important Chuuya-san don't fill your ego too big or your ridiculous small hat won't fit on your head," Dazai responded coldly, opening his eyes sharply for Chuuya to see how dark they were. The tone didn't defer him."You're thinking about it now... cutting me then aren't you?" Chuuya shivered when he saw Dazai's eyes cart over old injuries and lines along Chuuya's ribs in confirmation. He could be all talk sometimes fooling Chuuya who was gullible when he didn't mean to be, but right now his desires were so evident it made him want to laugh."You came here stealing my food and wine, probably put some listening devices in the kitchen to spy on me after-- and you had your way with me thinking you would just leave." Dazai made to speak, but Chuuya forced his fingers right into his mouth, pressing down on the upward thrust of his tongue and caught nails along his molars. Dazai gagged instantly, but the motion soaked Chuuya's lean fingers. A sharp possessive inhale drew his gaze to the mess. A smirk was marrying pretty on his lips while Dazai's eyes darkened to impossible dilations."What you initially took isn't even what you wanted," Chuuya continued, pulling his fingers out. Spit clung between the digits catching his interest while he hooked one of Dazai's legs over his shoulder. "You thought you could forget your new problems with the Agency by crawling into my bed, but it's impossible to ignore our chemistry. I bring out the worse in you-- but I also know what you want."He slipped two fingers just around the tight rim of muscle, cantering Dazai's hips back with enough angle to let them glide in with surprising ease. Dazai was quiet again less the shocked breathy release that huffed past his lips at the intrusion. Chuuya lowered his mouth to his mostly bare chest, darting his tongue to run along one of the bandages to catch the edge of an exposed nipple to distract him."Chuuya-- aren't you tired. I am," Dazai surprisingly relaxed at the words as if he was the sleepy one."Let me play with you," Chuuya took his time mapping out the smaller crevices of Dazai's upper body while he stretched and opened him with careful consideration with added lube. Dazai didn't make to fight him or move away if anything watching him resist mewing under the motions had Chuuya painfully hard now that he had a pliant Dazai under him. His mouth sought for another kiss to distract himself-- not wanting to come in a frantic rut against his calf while the warmth surrounding his fingers made him ache for things Dazai never let him have."I want you," Chuuya captured his tongue with his own, biting gently at his bottom lip until it swelled with crimson. Dazai's cheeks were flushed beautifully as Chuuya let his fingers pull out and instead wrapped around the base of his cock. Chuuya sat back until rested on his heels and between Dazai's open legs. Dazai was quiet while he watched the lazy stroke send that half sent Chuuya almost over the edge with just his gaze on him."I have a clean knife," Chuuya hummed thoughtfully, "you still haven't bottomed yet, have you? Even after all this time. No one has managed to convince you." Dazai scowled, but Chuuya could tell he was thinking hard about what he wanted. He reached over and opened the drawer and pulled out a blade Dazai knew very well-- but not just that landed by his side. Chuuya pulled out his gun as well, going so far as to check the chamber and make sure a bullet resided in there. Dazai's smirked."You haven't replaced me in this area have you Dazai," Chuuya smiled feral, and Dazai growled in equal parts arousal and concern while Chuuya set the gun right to his partner's temple."To kill you while fucking you-- that would be a bliss only I'd be graced with,""You make a lot of threats but never actually follow through them. It makes me think you are a moron," Dazai tilted his head more into the gun with that stupid smile and Chuuya had enough."I've waited years-- I am taking this virginity tonight," he announced before leveling Dazai a stern look. The fingers along the gun shook just enough to make the thrill of it going off produce a pulse of heat all over him. "Say no right now, or I will only listen to your safe word."Dazai was quiet, and Chuuya let the consent fill him with want."Okay--" he shifted to the side adequately to coat himself with lube, Dazai had his fingers on the knife. Opening it as if to inspect its cleanliness. Chuuya took the distraction as an opportunity to hull Dazai's one leg up again to cradle if over his shoulder. The angle and position weren't a good one to start with-- but he wanted to see the gun around his lips."Be careful surprising me with the knife," he warned leaning forward until his hand pressed the gun into the pillow around Dazai's head. His free hand slipped down the slim hips of his partner, tilting them up to better curve under and allow a deeper angle. The push was agonizingly slow, and Dazai gasped with a worried pain to his brow, Chuuya decided to kiss him while he seated forward, the blade of the knife kissed in a chilling threat to his forearm caged closest to Dazai's face. The smallest cut was making him groan.It took only a moment to stretch and accommodate his girth, but Chuuya was painfully aware that he hadn't gotten off earlier."You going to last?" Dazai gasped when Chuuya pulled out and thrust back in."Shut up-- you left me like this," he sat up on his heels as Dazai's spine arched up off the bed when he set a bruising pace. He pulled the gun back and rested over the trigger with his finger. There was a bullet right in the chamber-- he could feel the weight of the clip. This was dangerous-- oh god. Chuuya met Dazai's hazed gaze-- realizing with a burst of clarity that his old partner was hard and enjoying this. Whatever mood he had been in or attempted to hide from Chuuya seemed to melt out of him as sweet sounds drew out of Dazai in new ways."Asshole, you should have believed me when I told you-- you'd love this," Chuuya let the nozzle clank roughly against the enamel of Dazai's front teeth before he opened his mouth. Saliva caught along the edge, dribbling past his chin as his fingers had. The metal was heavy in his hand while he set a cruel pace-- not caring that this was Dazai's first time and would probably be sore as hell tomorrow. Maybe he'd stay another night. That dark, possessive thought had him click the safety off with his thumb and sit back all the way, cradling the gun with both hands. Lean muscles curled into stunning biceps, the tendons in his forearm tightly jumps to make Dazai's eyes catch the definition with a desired filled gaze. He paused his movements less a ground of his hips.Dazai had the blade wedged into his ribs, just enough to be a warning, but that wasn't why he stopped. Dazai's eyes were squeezed tight, and he was coming hard already-- Chuuya pulled the gun back to hear the torn up moan leave the other."Tch-- you are so fucking selfish," Chuuya clicked his tongue at the sight. Tilting his head to the side while Dazai ground down against him. The movement had his legs trembling, the tightness surrounding his cock bringing white dots to collide overall his vision. He couldn't deny it was hot, though. "Fuck--""Finish," Dazai half croaked out, and Chuuya set the gun on the bed with the safety back on. Curling forward to pound into velvet heat until his teeth burrowed into the curve of Dazai's neck. The scream that tore out of Dazai had Chuuya come apart. Spilling half out onto the bed where he nearly landed on top of his chest. All was quiet less the rain that reminded him of the world, then the sting of pain along his ribs and forearm. Chuuya sat up to see the line of blood not surprised it was there beside all the other faded ones."This is gross--" Dazai whined instantly, and it tore a rich laugh out of Chuuya. "Yes, this is why I always asked you to wear a fucking condom.""Chuuya knew this would be nasty and he still came inside," there wasn't any bite in the playful tone."You came a second time really fast-- you liked it," Chuuya teased by pinching Dazai's cheeks. He situated over the bed to grab more tissues. His body felt light, and he wanted to go work on something-- sex always made him hyper above tired for some reason. Cleared his mind so he could focus on other things. Dazai was already showing signs of sleeping-- which highly amused Chuuya who hadn't seen him like this since they were younger."Did you hear me?" Chuuya wiped up the mess off Dazai's legs. "Get up; I want to change the sheets.""Noooo," Dazai plopped on his stomach, Chuuya noticing the wince and knowing the other hated pain made him feel a little guilty."At least clean these cuts up. Fuck-- you got me five times," he peered down at his forearm spilling lines across his pale skin along with the two on his ribs. They ached with the awareness, and Chuuya felt like bitching before he looked over to see Dazai staring at him. He flushed."What!" he yelled, cause anger was natural."Chuuya still loves me,""Why would I stop! You're the idiot for leaving," Chuuya growled while Dazai leaned over him. The safe feeling had his heart hurt, but he buried it, so Dazai didn't poke more holes into it."You can come by whenever you need me alright? I don't care how it looks or how you will probably make fun of me for it," Chuuya rubbed the shallow cuts with his thumb before Dazai lifted his finger to his cheek in a pleased smile."You got it love--"Chuuya smiled even further when he was pulled under the covers.
10101689	The Love Corvette	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": "Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Chloe Decker, Linda Martin (Lucifer TV), Trixie Decker, Ella Lopez, Mazikeen (Lucifer TV), Dan Espinoza, Amenadiel (Lucifer TV)", "Fandom": "Lucifer (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by titC", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-05T00:00:00", "words": "2,965", "Additional Tags": "\"Who the hell is Cupid\" Valentine's Fic Exchange, SUCH FLUFF, very feels, Lucifer is clueless, team fam FTW, arts and crafts, humour (hopefully), cool car, uncool devil, dork alert", "Relationship": "Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "February 2017 - Month of Twu Wuv!", "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 }	The Detective had looked a bit strange when he’d left the precinct, like she knew something he didn’t. Well, there wasn’t time to dwell on it right now – he was off to Dr Martin’s, then to Lux. He still had a club to run, after all; and since tonight she and the douche were taking the spawn out for some ‘family bonding time’ (whatever that meant) he could take care of things like the perfectly responsible devil he was.His Corvette was waiting for him in the station car park, gleaming and polished and perfect as usual. He loved that car, he really did. He ran a fond hand over the bonnet before opening the door and – what was that? He picked up the little object in the driver’s seat and narrowed his eyes at it. It looked like… well, it looked like a toy car – his car! – and the driver’s hair was painted black with, hah, red eyes and two red horns and a lopsided smile etched into the clay. There was also a passenger, with long blond hair and big blue eyes. And it was clearly handmade, too. He turned it in his hands, wondering what it meant. Was it some sort of message from his father? Was Amenadiel trying to mess with him? Or Maze, maybe? Was it a warning? Was the douche trying to tell him he knew he was the devil, that he’d smash his car to smithereens if he hurt Chloe, perhaps?He finally found the inscription under the car. “To Lucifer, from Trixie!” He felt his eyebrows rise up on his forehead. The offspring? He’d picked her up from school a few times in this very car and he knew she bragged about it to her friends because, well, it was the epitome of a cool car indeed; so he assumed she liked the Corvette; but… why the horns and red eyes? She didn’t know about that; at least officially. (He had his doubts. The child was devious and clever, things he approved of as a matter of course.) Why have what was, presumably, a representation of her mother and not herself next to him?He gingerly placed it on the passenger seat as he slid behind the wheel. He’d have to ask Dr Martin. She laughed at him. The gall of that woman, really! He sometimes thought her terror at his real nature should have lasted longer. Well, maybe not the terror, because… let’s not dwell on that too much; but some proper awe at least? A bit of respect? He tried to be the bigger man and waited for her to stop snickering with only a little sigh and an eye-roll. Maybe some pointed looks through the window too. When she was finally done, she put the little clay toy back on the table between them.“Well, I think it’s cute, Lucifer.”“Cute?”“Cute. She’s probably telling you she’s happy of your relationship with her mother. And you keep saying you’re the devil; why are you surprised she added horns?” She glanced down at the car and her lips curved up again.“But… what am I supposed to do?”“Do you know what day it is? The date, I mean?”“Er, February, 12th?”“And…?” She looked expectantly at him.“And… it’s not her birthday? It’s… not Christmas? I don’t know, Doctor!”She sighed. “Valentine’s day is on the 14th. What have you planned?”“Planned?” He didn’t understand. “For Lux, you mean? Well, there’ll be special themed decorations and bowls of free condoms and lube packets everywhere and – ”“No. For Chloe.”For Chloe? “But… we’re already, um. Oh! She’s told you something, hasn’t she? She’s not happy with me, is that it? I knew it, that thing here’s a warning! She wants out, right? What did I do wrong? What did she say? Come on, Doctor, you know something! Is it because I gave the spawn chocolate cake for dinner last week? Is that it? She really wanted it and I am the devil, yes? I’m not supposed to say no to these things! Or, or maybe it’s because of that time I threw out all of the Detective’s bedclothes? I got her much better ones, but she really was angry at me because – well, I don’t know, but she made me go buy more of those plain while cotton ones she inexplicably likes, and… that’s it, right?” He didn’t understand her at times, he didn’t understand those (thankfully infrequent) times he tried to make her happy and it ended up in a disaster; but they did happen. Maybe it had happened once too often, and that was it. So, it was over; unless he made amends, perhaps? But how?“I think you’re overreacting, Lucifer.”“No! No, I’m not! What do I have to do? What does she need, what does she want? You must know!” They were friends, after all. What did he have to fix? Ah, yes! He should call Maze, she’d tell him. Probably kick his arse first, but she’d tell him still. He stood up, intent on his goal, but the Doctor’s voice stopped him in his tracks.“Lucifer, don’t forget Trixie’s gift.”Right. He turned around, grabbed the warning, and ran out. He thought he heard muffled laughter behind him, but he ignored it. He had to fix what he’d broken, somehow. The Internet was no help.He’d tried to look up what you were supposed to do for your beloved, your lover, your partner, your better half, the apple of your eyes – for The Detective, because that was who she was and always would be to him – after doing some paperwork for Lux and before the evening would start in earnest and he’d have to go down and entertain. He’d play a few songs, encourage the guests to get bolder, to dance a little closer to each other, to drink a bit more; watch them be naughty and sexy and simply not the Detective. He really didn’t feel any urge to have sex with them nowadays; after those terrible interviews where the people he’d slept with had said they hadn’t cared at all about him he’d frankly lost the taste. They’d used him, and he hadn’t even been aware of it. He’d thought they’d actually liked him, even if just for a few hours – how naive of him. But… maybe that was it? Maybe Chloe believed he still wanted to, maybe she believed he missed it? Or even that he still did it?He didn’t think the flowers and sweets the sites recommended would be enough; and she’d probably throw lacy underwear at his head if he tried that. What could he do? Should he book a vacation somewhere? But then she’d fret about her daughter; they’d either have to take her with them, or find someone to keep her… ah, and he’d have to pay attention to her school schedule, too. But would it cut it? Maybe she wouldn’t like going on holiday with him after all? They’d never spent more than a weekend together, after all. Maybe an entire week would be too long? Maybe she’d get tired of him even faster? After all, great sex wasn’t enough to keep people around; the bitter realization had made that crystal clear. What was he to do to win her back?He shut his laptop down with a sigh, but no answer in sight. It was time to go down to Lux, anyway. The next morning, he found a pink knitted cover on the Corvette steering wheel. He blinked at it for a little while, then decided he was man enough to drive to the precinct with it. Maybe he could ask Ms Lopez to check it for prints or whatever identifying clues she could find? He would be able to rip it off afterwards, but not before he at least tried to get answers. He extracted leather driving gloves (black, of course) from the glove compartment because he knew enough not to smear his own cells all over it, and off he went to join the Detective.She, of course, found the wheel cover hilarious; and Ms Lopez aaaw-ed and said he really should keep it, even after she studied it. He left her to it as he and Chloe went to interview a suspect in her car, but when they came back to the precinct he almost thought he’d have a heart attack. He first wondered what kind of bird had managed to soil the paint in that weird pattern, but when he got closer he found they were stickers, spread all over the bonnet. Heart-shaped, pink and red stickers.“Lucifer, you coming?” Oh, no. No, she couldn’t see them! She’d think – what would she think? That he was cheating on her, surely. That someone was trying to sleep with him, at the very least! He turned and there she was, walking to him. Should he, should he what? Sit on the hood? Thrown his jacket over them? He had to hide the heinous things, but anything he came up with would have her cop senses tingling. “What are you – aw, Lucifer, that’s cute!”He blinked at her. “Cute? Cute?” Certainly not. “It is vandalizing, Detective! My car is defaced, and I refuse to be seen driving – ”“I like it.”She liked it? Oh. “Oh.” He felt stupid, standing here with his arms hanging by his sides while she was looking up at him with laughter in her beautiful eyes. “Well then. I. Um.”“Leave them on for a little while? I like them.”“All… all right.” What else could he say? She liked them. They made her smile. What were a few pink stickers in the face of that? Still, while she was working on some paperwork at her desk he slipped into Ms Lopez’s lab.She was hopping around to the music in her ears, and he waited for her to spot him. He didn’t want to disturb her work, after all: he had a vested interest in it. “Oh, hey! Here about the knitted mystery?”“Well, yes. Except there are now pink heart stickers over my car, too. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?” Maybe… maybe it was her? But why?“Your car was sticker-free when I went down to have a look at the wheel cover, I promise. I can try and dust them for print, but if it’s the same perpetrator then they’ve been careful and won’t have left any trace.”“Do you mean you couldn’t find anything?”“Nope, nothing.” He’d had such high hopes, too. “But regarding the Morinho case, I did get interesting results.”He’d clearly get no answer from forensic science, then. Fine, he’d focus on their case right now; but he still needed answers. And a way to convince the Detective to stay with him. Maybe he could ask the douche for some advice on what not to do, at least? When the evening came, they’d solved the Morinho case, he still had no idea about the sudden interest of a mysterious vandal in his car, and even less about what to do regarding the Detective. And of course, as the final touch to the day, he found a little Cupid complete with bow and arrow hanging from his rear-view mirror. Its wings were, of course, pink. He was still glaring at it with his best lord-of-hell glower when he felt an arm snake around his waist.“What are you angry at?”Damage control! He had to do damage control. “I swear, it’s not what you think!”She frowned."It’s not?”“No. You have my word; you know I wouldn’t lie to you, yes?”“But what do you think I’m thinking, then?”“Well, it’s obvious; but it’s a set-up – I promise you, I’m not cheating on you or sleeping with anyone else or even thinking about it! I’m being framed! I – I know I’m not, and you deserve, but, I wouldn’t! Never!” It was like too many words were piling up in his throat, in his mouth and they couldn’t get out. He stayed there, silent, almost panting, his jaw probably hanging half-open because he could never manage to be Lucifer Morningstar with her. He could never give her his very best, smoothest self; and – oh. Was that it? Yes, yes – it was! Of course it was. She wanted to get rid of him, because he wasn’t what she’d expected and wanted when she’d signed up for the Morningstar Experience. She didn’t want to deal with him any longer, and she’d perhaps assumed that letting him believe someone else was interested in him would be enough to get out of their, of their, of their thing? “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I understand; I, I’ll just go.”He reached out to open the car door but she jerked him around by his elbow. “Lucifer, what are you on about? What is going on in your head?” He looked away from her face; he couldn’t – he just couldn’t. “Talk to me. We promised each other we’d talk, remember?”“You, you want out, yes?” He thought he heard a groan from somewhere behind him, then a thump. Huh. Probably a suspect being manhandled out of a police van. Would she still work with him? Was this his last day at the station, his last day stealing the douche’s pudding and playing darts with Ms Lopez’s scalpels?“How did you go from heart stickers to my dumping you?” He opened his mouth. "No, don’t say anything. We all teamed up to surprise you, not… this.” Light, warm, strong and careful – her fingers came up to his face, his cheek. “I’m not leaving you; I love you.”“But…”“But what?”“You don’t believe I’m seeing other people? You don’t want to get rid of, of…?”She squeezed his neck a little. “Don’t you trust me?”“But I gave your offspring chocolate cake last week and I wasn’t supposed to; and you were angry when I got you silk sheets; and you’ve seen, and I’m not…” Finally, he managed to look at her. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t…” He waved a hand then, gingerly, let it curl around her waist. She smiled at him encouragingly, and he felt like a fool – again. Such a fool. But he settled both palms on her, a bit more confident.“You need to trust me – trust us, rather. Can you do that?” He closed his eyes. Could he? He wanted to, he really did. He nodded, and felt her gently bring his head down, felt her lips on his. His palms slid just a bit lower, right where her hips started, flaring out slightly and filling his hands just right, just enough, just perfect.“Det – Chloe…”Her lips curled up under his, and he loved her and he breathed her and suddenly there were catcalls and flashes of a bright white light and even… clapping? And a little cannonball running into them. He reluctantly detached himself from Chloe and picked up the child before she tore his jacket from her insistent tugging. Her mother’s eyes were all soft on them, and it was like standing on top of the world. Flying over it, even, lighting the skies as everything was still brand new.“Happy Valentine’s day!” He wished he could be as invincible as he felt when he was near the Detective, because the spawn must have ruptured his eardrum.“I know we’re only the 13th, but since I got the next few days off for both of us as a little gift…”“The next few days…?” He let the child slide down when she squirmed.“Everyone helped; Maze got your suitcase ready and in the trunk, Linda found us a nice quiet hotel, Dan is keeping Trixie… And we’ve even decorated your car!”“It’s like the Love Corvette!” Ms Lopez said. The douche was smirking at him from behind her.“The… Love Corvette.”“Yes! And I’m lending you my camera so you can take plenty of pictures, and we’ll make an album of your little holiday when you come back.” She handed it to him, and he saw there were already pictures of his car, and… he didn’t blush, of course, when he saw Chloe and him kissing. Did he always look so, so… soft, with her? Even when carrying the spawn. He’d never known.“I hope you enjoyed the upgrades we made.” Amenadiel had a definitely wicked smile. Fallen angel indeed, brother mine.“Did you like my gift, Lucifer? I made it with mom.”He looked down. “It’s… very lifelike.” She grinned, apparently happy with his answer.“It was a fun evening we had, right, monkey?” Chloe ruffled her hair, then looked up at him. “I put it in your car in the afternoon yesterday, Amenadiel knitted the wheel cover and Maze put it on last night, Ella added the stickers, and Dan the little Cupid.”“You – wait.” He looked at his brother. “You knit?” Oh, he was never letting him live it down.“I have plenty of time to learn new skills these days,” he mumbled. Oh, that was good. That was gold. Dr Martin certainly agreed, given the way she was trying and failing to stifle her guffaws. But…“Chloe,” he whispered. “I don’t have anything for you.”“Well. I guess you can let me drive your car, and keep the decorations for at least a month.” Oh. Oh no. No way. “Pretty please?” Fine. “And I just… I wanted to give you something, and this Valentine’s thing is really just a pretext. But next year, it’s your turn.” She grinned at him and he forgot everything else that wasn’t her.She’d said next year, and nothing else mattered.
10169435	How Could You Leave Us	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor, and the supergang of course", "Fandom": "Supergirl (TV 2015)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by scripturiently", "chapters": "7/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-08T00:00:00", "words": "17,003", "Additional Tags": "uhm so i have two papers due this week and an entire midterm to finish, but here i am sobbing over these two, and writing fanfic for them!!, cause clois parallels will be the death of me!!, listen writing about these two is my only way of coping w the stress, so here you are", "Relationship": "Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Supergirl Returns", "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 Supergirl leaves earth, Lena is sure she's not coming back.She's known for the longest time that Kara and Supergirl are the same person. She's too smart not to realize that. So, when Supergirl leaves, Kara Danvers leaves too. A vacation, Snapper tells her. Yeah right, Lena thinks. Supergirl leaves and it's the talk of National City for about a few months. They think she's coming back. But after five months, they realize the girl of steel is long gone. They don't see her again for five years. At this point Lena's reaching thirty. L Corp has become a multimillion dollar powerhouse. Not that it wasn't before, it's just that now it's Lena who's made it become so. Not Lex. She hasn't heard that name slip past someone's lips for three years. That she's okay with, it makes it all the easier. She's out branched with the company, creating tools to help both aliens and humans reside alongside one another in harmony. L Corp has created outreach programs for orphans both alien and human alike. Just this year she's begun a project she started when Kara was still on earth. A space program, entirely run on earth friendly materials. Lena starts it because it's time to move on, time to make L Corp something just a little bigger. Granted, most everything she's worked on is all due to Kara. Kara changed 20 years of Luthor xenophobia grilled into Lena. She showed her that aliens weren't that different from humans. That Lena really had nothing to fear, for the most part. She's thankful to Kara, Supergirl, about that. Like most of National City, she's beginning to realize Supergirl was their gateway to a better community. Now that Supergirl was gone, though, she realizes maybe it's for the best. National City couldn't always have Supergirl.National City didn't always need Supergirl. And Lena Luthor didn’t always need Supergirl. She’s grown to learn that the hard way. It’s been hell, to let go of someone who made you feel like you were worth something, who could be there for you like no one else could. Someone who was healthy for you and treated you right after twenty years of not feeling adequate for a family that took you under their wing. She’s made something of herself without Supergirl around, though. Supergirl, Kara, gave her the push in the right direction, the motivation she needed when she first started getting away from the Luthor name. She was there for Lena but then she disappeared and Lena had to once again was left to be alone. It hardened whatever started to soften around Kara Danvers. She shut everyone out like she always had, except more prominently this time. Lena got away from that Luthor reputation. She was no longer Lena Luthor, the adopted child. She was strictly Lena Luthor, without any bad strings attached.She hadn’t visited Lex in three years. Hadn’t heard a peep from Lillian in four. It was as if they didn’t exist. Lena found that she liked that. Where Kara Danvers had made her smiles and kind gestures, she turned it into hard frowns and disassociation from society. She attended galas, hosted events but she never truly got into them the same way she used to. People noticed but no one dared utter a word about it.Alex Danvers, Kara’s sister, tried visiting once or twice. Lena could tell she was doing it for Kara. She had wondered, briefly, when Alex first visited with donuts, if she kept in touch with Kara despite being planets away. “She’s doing good, I think. I haven’t heard much.” Alex had admitted to her when Lena asked. Then she noticed the engagement ring on Alex’s finger and wondered briefly if that’s why Kara left. Her sister had always been close to her, she talked so much about her to Lena. Alex visited once more after that but Lena turned her away due to business complications. She didn’t hear from her again, only received an invitation to a wedding a few months later. Lena, of course, did not go. She’s learned to cut herself off from anyone associated with Kara Danvers. Not only that, but places too. She won’t go to the local winery, where she and Kara had visited on several occasions. The coffee shop just down the block hasn’t seen hide nor hare of Lena Luthor since Kara’s leave. Other places, the park, local cinema, a restaurant favorite of Lena’s that she always took Kara to after a huge article. Definitely not the local Chinese restaurant either.The key Kara had given her to her apartment had collected dust in Lena’s bedside drawer for the past five years. Lena had gone into her apartment a few times after she left, trying to make sure dust didn’t collect and that the plants were watered. It was her way of coping for a good few months. The smell of Kara hadn’t left and sometimes Lena would lie in the other woman’s bed hoping, praying even, that she would fall asleep and wake up to see Kara Danvers face once more.She never slept and coincidentally, Kara Danvers never came. So, with that, Lena threw the key into the bedside drawer and left it there. She didn’t want anything to do with it again. No matter how badly it hurt, no matter how many times she drank until she was entirely numb in her office only for Jess to call a car around and take Lena home. No matters how many times Lena spent crying herself to sleep.She hated herself for getting so attached to Kara ‘embodiment of sunshine’ Danvers. She hated that she had fallen for someone so quickly, that she had let herself ruin everything she built herself up to be (hard, distant, the National City ice queen) for this reporter who earned the title as Lena Luthor’s gal pal in news media.It becomes easier with time, to forget about Kara Danvers. Or at least pretend to forget. People stop asking, Lena makes herself scarce. Workload increases tenfold. She’s thankful for it, really, the way L Corp blew up nearly overnight and suddenly she was overloaded with work and given barely any time to think about the girl she lost along the way. Working on the projects that built a bridge between aliens and humans may not have helped but Lena finds them as a type of closure. By finishing what Kara Danvers, Supergirl, wanted all along, she can let go of whatever she felt obligated to with the charismatic Kryptonian.She scans the news reports on science. It’s more to look at the news NASA puts out. A new planet found, mysterious objects in the sky. She finds a blog about a year after Kara vanishes called Supergirl Returns? She laughs, fucking laughs, for about ten minutes, a glass of scotch in hand as she scrolls through the blog. People have theories, people begin posting pictures that they think could be Supergirl. Who would’ve thought the girl of steel would become a conspiracy theory?It was the first time she thought about Kara in six months. She immediately blocked the site after one drunken night of scrolling through and never thought about it again. The next four years flew by in a whirlwind of business deals, business trips, business galas, business meetings, business, business, business. Lena drowned in it. She dated around. A pretty girl from France here, a lovely daughter of a business partner there. None of them lasted longer than three months. She ignored the fact that they shared Kara’s physical appearance; blonde hair and blue eyes, a million dollar smile, a nice body.So, maybe Lena Luthor wasn’t over Kara Danvers. But she could act like it. And she was doing quite well without the girl of steel."Miss Luthor, right this way." A flight attendant leads Lena to her seat on the plane. Today, L Corp will make history. The first satellite launch into space without using a rocket. Cost effective enough and as Lena's scientist group put it, 'killing two birds with one stone.'Because they're launching the satellite from a commercial airplane, passengers aboard and everything. But they've planned this out thoroughly. Besides, all who is on the flight are reporters and a few corporate businessmen who helped fund the project alongside L Corp. Lena tells herself if the operation goes awry, then maybe at least there aren't casual civilians, families, getting hurt. She buckles herself in, looks out the window the entire time. Lena only half listens to the flight attendant who explains what will be carrying on in the operation, what to do if there's an emergency. Lena hates flying. She's never been a fan, not even when Supergirl would carry her across National City or when she'd catch her after the billionth time she's been thrown over something due to Lillian's henchmen. At least Supergirl tried to make her feel safe. Regardless, Lena utterly despised it. Even if it was, statistically speaking, the safest form of transportation. Kara would always laugh at that. Shake her head and tell Lena that of course she knew statistics on the safest transportation. Lena would always smile back, wouldn't tell Kara she had always heard that from Lex. So of course something goes wrong, it always has to. The satellite doesn't detach from the plane, instead begins sending the plane into the atmosphere. Everything becomes bumpy and it gets hard to breathe, Lena can see the frost forming outside the windows. The safety masks come down and she desperately puts one on, and peers outside her window just to see a flash of blue and red. Lena tells herself she's hallucinating, because there's no way she's back and saving Lena like the good old times. She doesn't give herself time to think because the satellite finally detaches by some miracle and the plane is spiraling out of control, crashing back down to earth. And that's when she sees her again and suddenly Lena's heart stops working properly. There's something different about her, is it the suit? She can't exactly tell yet, but Supergirl's pulling at the plane wing to get it to stop spiraling and Lena hears the snap, watches Supergirl and the wing get flung back, only for Supergirl to catch herself and race forward to the front of the plane. She briefly wonders if Supergirl knows that she’s on board and this is why she’s saving a plane. But Supergirl is an all around force for good, she’d save damn near anyone, even if they didn’t deserve it.Lena closes her eyes after that, she can't take any more. Not when she can hear the ripple effect of Supergirl stopping the plane and it crumbles under her hands. They land, miraculously, in the middle of National City's park. The exit door is ripped off it's hinges and Supergirl strides inside in all her red and blue glory, not a single blonde ringlet out of place, red lipstick brighter than usual. "Is everyone okay?" She addresses the entire plane cabin but she's staring at Lena. Her eyes express so many emotions at once that Lena can't decipher them. She nods, slightly breathless and entirely shocked. Supergirl is gone in a flash after that and all the reporters are climbing over one another to get a glimpse of National City's long lost hero flying away. Coincidentally, Kara Danvers is back too. She visits Lena a few days after the Supergirl incident, in her usual pants and button up blouse attire. Lena's trying to figure out the damage costs on the operation for the satellite and as if she's back to old days, she doesn't hesitate to tell Jess to let Kara in when she's warned. She doesn’t think twice on it, but she realizes she should have.Kara comes in and already is a bumbling mess. It's endearing and Lena doesn't realize how much she's missed it, missed her. She greets Kara politely, standing up and holding her hand out. Kara stares down at it and Lena almost retracts her polite gesture when she feels Kara's warm grasp in hers. She can see the disappointed look in Kara's face but it's been five years and Lena wouldn't lie if she said she wasn't a little upset. She wants to make that known.“Five years and not a word from the intrepid reporter of CatCo. You, Kara Danvers, are hard to get a hold of. Here for an interview? I’m surprised Snapper allowed you back on the team.” Lena sits back down at her desk, not looking at Kara, instead busying herself with papers and a graph on her laptop. Kara sits opposite her desk and pushes at her glasses. “Well, Snapper’s gone and James is running the team so he let me back on. With conditions of course.”Of course, Lena thinks, because yes James Olsen would. He knows Supergirl, knows that Kara is the girl behind that S symbol. So of course he would let her back on after five years. “Fortunate,” Lena hums.Silence spreads between them. Lena can feel the start of a migraine and almost grabs her bottle of pills in her desk but she stops halfway there and decides against it. Kara clears her throat. “I’m here to see you, actually. Off the record,” then a little more softly, “as your friend.”As if they could ever be friends. As if they ever were. Kara up and left Lena when Lena needed her most and she doesn’t think friends do that sort of thing. She also doesn’t think friends flirt the way they used to, doesn’t think they would look at one another that long. But she plays along because Kara Danvers is sweet, thinking that Lena and her still can be friends.There is also a part of her that’s missed this, but Lena’s gone so long without it that she ignores it.“Then tell me, what has Miss Danvers been up to?” Lena gives her a tight smile, leans her elbows on her desk. Kara winces because she can see Lena is faking it but begins talking. She talks more about her friends than anything. Her sister has gotten married, James now is officially in charge of CatCo, Winn created a great piece of tech. Lena knows about that one because she keeps up to date on all things technology in the news. Hell, she remembers the day, two years ago, because she couldn’t help but think of Kara when she saw Winn’s face plastered on CatCo magazine.Then Kara asks about her and well, things go to shit. Lena explains her many accomplishments in the past five years, speaks about National City like it’s her child because in truth it sort of is. But then she makes the offhanded comment, “all no thanks to Supergirl,” and can visibly see Kara get rigid. That in itself makes Lena a little tense. “You know, I should really get back to work, Kara.”“Right, no of course,” Kara says, nodding her head and standing. She’s still a little tense and Lena can’t blame her. “It was really nice to see you again, Lena,” Kara tells her when she’s making her way to the door. Lena finally looks up and makes eye contact with the pure blue eyes. Her heart starts racing.“You too, Kara.”“I’ve missed you,” Kara breathes, then ducks out of the room without another word. Lena could see the tears forming in her eyes. She tries to understand what they could mean, paired with Kara’s parting words. She’s hopeful for a moment. But that hope leaves because Kara left for a reason. Left her for a reason. She can’t possibly be sorry for doing so. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- A few weeks pass. Nothing serious happens. Lena’s neck deep in work that she doesn’t have time for anything else. But Kara still continues to try and make plans. She texts Lena, asking to go to lunch, for coffee, for Lena to come to a game night. Lena refuses them all, purposely. It’s easy to come up with excuses, she is the CEO of a company after all. She apologizes the first few times, but quits after a while. Soon it just becomes second nature to just refuse Kara’s invitations and leave it at that. She won’t let herself fall back into relying on someone, on wanting someone.Kara shows up on her balcony about a month after she saved her from the plane accident. Correction, Lena reminds herself, Supergirl does. She looks a little angry and Lena can’t tell if that’s Supergirl who is angry at her or Kara. She’s seen a lot of the caped hero in the news lately, doing what she usually does. Seems National City took having their hero back rather quickly. It was as if nothing changed. But Lena knows better, because everything Supergirl does now seems a little bit more calculated, a little more experienced. She wonders where the hell Supergirl went exactly.“Supergirl,” Lena greets her with some disdain in her voice. The girl of steel has her arms crossed, floating a mere few inches off the ground. It’s comical really, but Lena knows she’s doing it to gain some sense of authority in their conversation. Lena allows her to believe she has it.“Miss Luthor.” Lena joins the hero out onto the balcony, leaning against the railing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”Supergirl is silent for some time and Lena almost thinks she’s flown off. But the girl of steel speaks. “Kara Danvers informs me that you’ve been rather busy lately. She’s worried about you.”Lena almost quips, ‘talking about yourself in third person now?’ But she stops. Because Kara thinks Lena thinks Supergirl and Kara are two different people. That thought is enough to give Lena yet another headache. “So she’s sent you.”“She just wants to make sure you’re okay,” Supergirl continues. Lena rolls her eyes. “Well tell her I say thank you, but not all of us can disappear off the planet for five years and try to come back thinking everything has remained the same. I have a company to run, it gets busy.” She purposefully words her sentences as such, knowing Supergirl will most likely get the hint.She does, because Lena hears her drop onto the cement of the balcony. “Lena,” “Five fucking years and not a word. Just left everything behind, left me wondering what I did wrong,” Lena chokes out. Supergirl does not make a move to comfort her and Lena is glad, because she truly doesn’t want that. “I think if you talked about it to her, maybe Kara would be able to explain. She didn’t want to leave you behind the way she did.” Supergirl tries to play middle man between herself and Lena. The CEO shakes her head. “Please, leave me alone.” Lena breathes out, voice shaking. There are tears staining her face, smearing her makeup, but she doesn’t care. Supergirl has seen her this vulnerable before. Except Lena’s crying more from pain and anger than sadness. Nothing Kara could say to her would ever make her forgive five years worth of getting over someone she was going to give everything to.Supergirl bows her head, rubbing her thumbs against the edges of her skirt. “If that is what you want,” she presses, hoping maybe Lena will change her mind but knowing better than to straight up refuse her wishes.“Yes, it is.”“Goodnight then, Miss Luthor.” Supergirl hovers off the balcony, taking one last fleeting look at the disheveled woman behind her before racing off to find someone in need of help.Lena retreats as fast from the balcony as she can, seeking solace in her liquor cabinet she has stashed inside her office. She grabs a bottle of whisky and a glass before heading to the leather couch and downing nearly half the bottle within a matter of an hour. At some point, she passes out on the couch, whether it’s from exhaustion, being too drunk, or just too emotionally distraught. Lena doesn’t remember somehow making it to her flat but she wakes up in her white bed sheets, a glass of water and aspirin on her bedside table, and the very distinct memory of being wrapped in a red cape and flown over National City.Kara Danvers deliberately waits outside L Corp the following afternoon when Lena is forced to take a lunch break per Jess’ orders. Lena runs into her and judging by Kara’s smile she had planned this to go exactly the way it did. “Kara,” Lena deadpans. There’s no excitement in her voice, just irritation and exhaustion.“Don’t worry, I’m not here on CatCo business. Jess told me you had the afternoon open and I thought it would be a nice surprise for you if I stopped by for lunch!” Kara explains and she does that cute thing with adjusting her glasses and ducking her head. Lena’s sure her heart is about ready to burst. “I wouldn’t say nice surprise.” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. Kara frowns. “Oh.”“I really should go, I was planning on just going back to my flat and grabbing a few papers I left last night.” Lena makes a move to slide past Kara, already making a scene in her own lobby. Kara boldly puts her hand on Lena’s arm.“Wait.” She pulls her arm away at Lena’s sharp intake of breath. “Lena, are we ever going to talk about this?” Her voice goes low and soft. Lena glances around the lobby.“Kara, I can’t talk about this here.”“Dinner, then.” Kara once again is bold with her actions, pressing forward and trying to break just a little of the steel edges around Lena. “I… can’t. I have a date.” It isn’t a lie, Lena does have a date with a woman she met at a gala a few weeks ago. They had exchanged numbers, Lena had asked her out on a date. It was mostly on a whim, after the first exchange with Kara when she came back from her disappearance. She regrets it immediately, telling Kara. The look on the blonde’s face makes Lena want to go back on anything she’s ever done to move on. “A.. date.”“Yes, Kara, a date.” Lena pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes closing briefly. “Listen I really should go.”“Yeah, right, of course, Lena.” Kara steps back, face still showing shock and pain. Lena wants to step forward, apologize and cancel the damn date just so she can wipe away the look on her face. But she doesn’t. Instead she says a quiet goodbye to Kara and walks out of the building to the car waiting for her. She can’t do this, doesn’t want to go back running to Kara as if nothing happened. She wants Kara to know what she did hurt Lena, but that Lena learned from it and made herself something out of it. That Lena doesn’t need Kara Danvers in her life, no matter how badly she wants her.She realizes she’s being rude, but Lena Luthor doesn’t do well with being abandoned. She can’t handle it and if it takes pushing away someone who left her so long ago, just like she was sure she would, then so be it.Lena doesn’t know it, she may never know, but Kara goes back to the DEO and nearly destroys an entire training room over the sheer overwhelming pain she feels at Lena Luthor moving on.The date goes well that night, so well that Lena’s waking up the next morning in the woman’s bed. She leaves before the other woman can wake up, though. Lena has a company to run and she’s sure that the date will lead to nothing more than that one night stand.Jess greets her with coffee and some pastry from the coffee shop not the one she and Kara would go to, no Jess knows better than that and Lena mumbles a thank you before locking herself inside her office until her first meeting at ten. She’s enjoying the warm pastry and coffee, sitting and reading the latest issue of CatCo’s magazine, when the caped hero appears at her window. Lena laughs because if Kara can’t have her as Kara, then of course she’ll try to talk to Lena as Supergirl. Supergirl is taken slightly aback, but her shoulders lose their stiffness, and her crossed arms get a little looser. “Good morning, Miss Luthor.”“A little early for you, don’t you think, Supergirl?” Lena asks, wiping her fingers on her napkin and turning around in her chair to meet Supergirl’s gaze. The Kryptonian shrugs. “I wanted to see if you were doing any better.”“Doing better? Oh, you mean from the night you tried getting me to talk about Kara Danvers.” She nods, a smile on her face. “I’m doing much better.” There’s sarcasm dripping from her words and she knows that Supergirl hears it. Out of spite Lena almost thinks about telling Supergirl about the woman she was with last night. But she stops herself, feeling guilty about it. Kara Danvers was already in a lot of pain over the idea of Lena going out with someone else. Besides, Lena’s better than that. Taunting an ex is that what they are, what they might have been, if kara had stuck around just a bit longer? is about as classy as a high school relationship, so she doesn’t do it.“I think you should really talk to Kara. Or to me. About whatever is going on.” Supergirl gives it one last try. Lena hears the desperation in her voice, the way Kara Danvers is peeking out of the Supergirl facade to get to Lena, to understand what happened the past five years.Lena knows she isn’t the same person she was five years ago, knows Kara can tell in damn near every little thing Lena does or says. The papers probably have done a good job of showing that if Kara’s looked hard enough. Hell, Alex has probably told her sister everything that’s happened with Lena. She’s built a new image of Lena Luthor from the ashes of the one Kara Danvers left behind unexpectedly. The new Lena Luthor is made of steel and ice, unbreakable, heartless, down-to-business 24/7. The old Lena Luthor would have cancelled everything if Kara so much as batted an eyelash at her. This one will do everything she can to stop Kara from worming her way into her life again. But things are breaking, the steel walls starting to corrode as Lena’s heart yearns for what she’s tried forgetting for the past five years. She wants Kara Danvers again, body and soul, but she also doesn’t want to be forgotten about, left behind again.Lena Luthor knows when someone will leave her. She’s gotten good at recognizing the signs of someone slowly distancing themselves. But Kara never showed that. And Lena thinks that’s maybe why it hurt so much when it happened. The signs never showed, even if she kept trying to find them, even if she kept telling herself Kara would leave eventually. Never again though.Supergirl’s still waiting for an answer, waiting for Lena to suddenly just spill everything she’s thinking to her. And god, Lena thinks she looks so good standing there, begging for Lena to talk to her, to Kara. She stands and walks up to Supergirl. She has to tilt her head up just a little, enough to make her neck a little more visible, chin jutting out as she fixes her with a hard stare. She can see Supergirl’s eyes slightly glance down at her lips, her own red ones parting to speak, or maybe remind herself to breathe. Lena can feel Kara’s forearms brush slightly against her chest at their close proximity. Lena wants to smile, knowing just what kind of effect she has on the girl of steel. Instead, her face remains stoic and she begins piecing together in her head what exactly she wants to say to Supergirl.“The world may have accepted Supergirl back with open arms and no explanations, but I’m not as swayed. Besides, girl of steel, I’ve been handling life quite well, and Kara Danvers no longer fits into my life the way she once did.” Lena has moved closer, as if it is even possible. Supergirl’s eyes close briefly, face moving forward. Lena feels her lips brush against Supergirl’s and pulls back. “People leave me and I learn to move from that. And you, Kara. You’ve been gone a long time.”She turns away and Supergirl’s stuck in place, in shock. “Lena,” she begins but stops. Lena looks over her shoulder, eyebrow raised slightly. But then her phone goes off, Jess is calling her to tell her that her 10:30 meeting is here. And when Lena tells Jess to give her a moment and hangs up, Kara is no longer there. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Kara's leaning against Lena as she talks animatedly with her sister across the table. “I'm just saying, maybe Maggie would like that kind of thing! Right Lena?” Lena’s beer is halfway to her mouth and she stops, glances at Alex who’s giving her a wicked smirk. “I'm the last person to go to for dinner advice,” she answers lamely, mostly because she's been caught off guard. Kara had invited Lena out to a Danvers sister’s game night, which consequently involved meeting at an alien bar for drinks and pool. James and Winn were finishing a game off with Maggie, while Kara, Alex, and Lena sat at their table talking. “That's not true,” Kara huffs and the warm feeling of her body pressing lightly against Lena’s side is gone as she leans over the table to grab a piece of pizza. “You always take me out to really fancy restaurants.” Lena blushes when Alex mumbles, “but just as friends, right,” because she knows that Kara’s blurring the line between friends and girlfriends in this conversation. Kara apparently doesn't hear it because she continues eating her pizza and scrolling through her phone. Lena peeks over, smiles when she sees the picture of the two of them as Kara’s home screen that one picture Alex got of them over Christmas when they were setting up the tree and watches as Kara begins rattling off the list of restaurants. “There's an adorable Mexican pastry shop down on Third, remember that one Lena? Mama Ina’s I think. Oh and the kombucha place!” Lena shakes her head. “Maggie seems like she’d much rather enjoy a nice at home meal where she can relax.” Alex nods. “I agree with Luthor on this one. Look, I just want to do our anniversary right and I know you want to help, Kara--” “But it’s supposed to be for an anniversary, meaning intimate and private, between the two of them. Alex can figure this out herself.” Lena interrupts, deciding she could break it to Kara the easiest. She sees Kara frown and jabs her elbow playfully into the blonde’s side. “Tell her about Metropolis.” Alex mouths a thank you to Lena and the CEO tips her beer in understanding as Kara begins her spiel. She and Lena had just gotten back from a two day trip to Metropolis, where Lena had a large conference to go to and Kara snagged the article to write for it. The conference was a two day event, but it lasted a few hours, leaving the two women to explore Metropolis throughout the day. That had been fun and Lena wouldn’t be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy having Kara on her arm for two days, just the two of them. It was always the two of them, never really anyone else, but something about being on a business trip with Kara felt so good that Lena was happier about being around Kara more than usual. “Lena also rocked her speech at the conference. It was amazing, I can’t wait to send Snapper the article for it,” Kara tells her sister. Lena blushes, dipping her head down. “Just confess your love to her already,” Maggie’s voice floats from across the room. Alex laughs loudly and Lena is pretty sure if she wants to sink into the floorboards and never return due of sheer embarrassment. Kara is stammering out a response and leaving Alex and Lena to go harass Maggie at pool. Eventually, Lena’s face loses its red glow and she looks up at Alex. “I can recommend you a few personal chefs if you’d like for your anniversary.” Alex is smiling at her like she knows something Lena doesn’t. The CEO doesn’t doubt it, since Alex knows Kara better than anyone and she works for some secret agency where they’re trained to get secrets out of anyone. “I think I’m just going to trust my faith in my own cooking.” It grows silent between them. Lena has been trying to find just about anything to connect with the older Danvers but there was still an uncomfortable barrier between them. Lena just blames the job Alex holds and the reputation the Luthors hold. “You didn’t have to drag my sister to Metropolis, you know,” Alex says after a long silence between them that started straining into awkwardness. Lena shifts on her seat, her dress feeling suddenly tighter than usual. “I thought it would give Kara an excuse to see her cousin and to appease Snapper all at once. Heard of the phrase ‘kill two birds with one stone?’” Lena retorts back and she knows it comes across bitchy but she was uncomfortable. This was Alex’s way of getting something out of her that she didn’t want to yet admit aloud. “Feels like it was three birds instead of two.” Lena doesn’t look at the older Danvers sister. Instead she turns her attention to Kara, who has her arm thrown over Winn’s shoulder and head thrown back in laughter at something James has done to win the pool game with Maggie. The blonde woman finally stops laughing, reeling herself in as James begins to set up another game and asking her to play, and turns her head slightly to catch Lena’s eyes. The CEO’s breath catches in her throat at the adorable smirk Kara throws her way. She breaks eye contact and goes back to nursing her beer. Alex clears her throat and when Lena looks up, the older sister has an unreadable look on her face. “Regardless the reason, Luthor, I’m glad you brought her along,” she admits, standing up, “Kara needed that.” Alex walks off to the bar to grab another drink. Lena watches her briefly until Maggie runs up to her girlfriend. She turns her attention back to her own drink and glances up at Kara as the perky blonde practically skips over to her. “Do you want to get out of here?” Kara asks, slightly breathless. Lena raises an eyebrow and then peers past Kara’s shoulders to Winn and James. “It’s game night, don’t you want to stay with your friends?” Kara shrugs and fidgets with her glasses. “You look like you could just use some Kara time.” Lena laughs, her blush returning. ‘Kara time’ meaning going back to Kara’s place, getting into comfortable clothes and sitting down with a bottle of wine to watch a new show Kara wants her to get into. “You don’t think I enjoy the company of your friends.” It’s not a question, doesn’t need to be. She knows it’s the truth, that it’s what’s running through Kara’s mind. “I think you can only handle so much of them. Especially my sister,” Kara elaborates. “Hey now, I’m offended!” Alex startles them both as she jumps into the conversation. Kara just rolls her eyes and gives her sister a look. Lena wishes she had a better connection with Lex, or maybe even a sister, just so she could understand what was being said with such looks between the sisters. “Feel better now?” Kara asks when Lena walks into her kitchen now dressed in a Metropolis University sweater and leggings, both belonging to the blonde. Lena leans against the island counter and watches Kara pull out two pints of ice cream and then a bottle of red wine. “Much, yes,” she answers after a moment and dons her flirty smirk when Kara turns back to her. The blonde chuckles, blush rising to her cheeks. She sets the items on the island and points to the couch behind Lena. “Couch, now. It’s time to finish up Game of Thrones.” Kara orders. “Yes, ma’am,” Lena drawls, laughing. She grabs the bottle of wine and pints of ice cream before walking to the couch. Later, as Kara grabs a blanket and puts it over the two of them sitting side by side, Lena is hit with an overwhelming feeling of affection. “Kara,” she starts slowly, setting down her wine glass. Her legs are folded underneath her and she’s leaning slightly towards Kara, who is ever so subtly moving closer. The two pints of ice cream have already been consumed in the two episodes they’ve watched, mostly eaten by Kara. “Hm?” Kara glances at Lena but then her eyes are glued back to the screen. Lena wrings her hands together nervously, her heartbeat picking up for a moment before she takes a deep breath and calms it. Kara notices though and the show is paused in a second, the blonder turning to Lena. “Is everything alright?” She doesn’t say anything. Instead Lena just takes in all that is Kara at that moment; hair up in a loose ponytail, wearing a soft white v neck and grey sweatpants. Her glasses are still on and Lena has the urge to take them off, to caress Kara’s jaw, to let her hands run over every visible inch of skin. Kara pulls her out of her thoughts when she takes her hand and intertwines their fingers. “Earth to Lena.” There’s a jovial lilt to her voice and her smirk is paralleling the tone. Lena leans forward, seized by some uncontrollable thought. She presses her lips to Kara’s, eyes closing, her hand that’s held by Kara’s squeezing slightly. Kara smiles and Lena can feel the laugh bubbling in her throat as she kisses back. Neither pushes anything past soft kisses, but Lena allows herself the pleasure of letting her free hand brush against Kara’s neck, fingertips grazing down to the exposed skin on her chest. Kara hums, pleased, but pulls back. Lena whines but stays put. She watches as Kara looks back at the tv, almost as if she’s remembered that they’re about to find out if the one character that Lena cannot for the life of her remember his name will live. She almost says something but then Kara’s eyes are trained on her and she’s smiling her usual sweet smile that makes Lena forget how to speak. “‘But just as friends right,’” she mimics her sister from earlier and Lena bursts out laughing, pushing at Kara’s shoulders. “What?” Kara grins, letting herself just fall back onto the couch, stretching her legs out to lay on Lena’s lap. “Admit it, that was funny.” Lena just shakes her head and grabs the remote to press play, knowing Kara desperately wants to finish the episode. Kara’s attention is back on the tv, but she keeps her hand intertwined with Lena’s, rubbing small circles on the back of her hand with her thumb. “Are you staying?” she asks when the episode is nearing the end. “Am I going to wake up to you having left me?” Lena jokes. She sees Kara’s face twist into something undecipherable, as if she was torn. Lena knows why, she’s always known. She’s just waited for the truth from Kara. Kara sits back up, face inches from Lena’s. “I’m not going to leave you,” she promises. Lena wakes up, alone, tangled in her crisp white sheets. She sits up, staring at the clock on her bedside table. 3:29 A.M. She half expects when she turns her head to her balcony window to see Supergirl-- Kara-- going to knock on it. Instead she’s met with the expanse of National City’s brilliant light show of the city. Lena brings her knees up to her chin, back hitting her headboard with a soft thud. She tries to control her breathing as she takes in a shaky breath. It doesn’t stop the tears as Lena cries to herself until there seems to be no more tears. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Lena Luthor is strong. She’s stoic, graceful, empowering. She intimidates even the most wealthy businessmen, could probably not even bat an eyelash at someone’s short attempt at slander. But Kara Danvers seems to unravel all of that even if she’s just plaguing her in Lena’s memories.Lena had been having dreams about past memories with Kara for near a week now. She could handle it, knew how to keep it in the safety of her own apartment. That was up until the night of a banquet being held at L-Corp.“Ms. Luthor.” Jess peeks her head into Lena’s office and Lena finishes clasping the gold necklace around her neck before turning to her secretary. “Yes?”“Many of the corporate partners are here already, if you’re ready,” Jess informs her and Lena takes that as her cue, making her way down to the first floor where the banquet is being held. She’s making her speech and thanking everyone for their contribution to the company when she sees Kara towards the back, James Olsen beside her. Lena nearly loses her composure right there on the stage when Kara’s bright blue eyes meet hers.But she finishes and is off the stage, calling for a glass of champagne and shaking hands with the people waiting for her down at the foot of the stage. Lena wants nothing more than to get away from here, to be left alone. She glances at the watch on her wrist and knows she has to stay at least another 33 minutes before it’s acceptable for her to slip away. She and Lex had gotten great at figuring out when it was okay to leave, to hide away in the coat racks at events or closets at Christmas parties. If there was one thing they learned to hone in on, it was avoidance.So she mills about, making herself busy by talking to the partners and other wealthy people at the banquet. But it’s no use, soon she runs into both Kara and James. “Lena Luthor, it’s good to see you again.” James smiles at her with a genuine smile and Kara is standing beside him busying herself with her empty glass of wine. Lena catches herself taking in the blonde in front of her, eyes lingering on her exposed collarbone and shoulders, her defined arms and shapely legs. She tears her gaze away and doesn’t miss the glance James gives Kara when she does.“It’s been quite a while. I don’t expect any less, of course. You have CatCo to run and Snapper has his reporters to do the work of interviewing a Luthor,” Lena answers, forcing a smile on her face. A waiter comes by and she places her empty glass on his tray, leaning forward and grabbing Kara’s, forcing the Kryptonian to finally look up and enter the conversation. If Lena has to be uncomfortable in a place that has been devoid of Kara for five years despite there being nods in all areas to her, then she won’t give Kara the relief of not making conversation with her.Still, as her fingers brush against Kara’s, she has to control herself from taking a sharp intake of breath. She remains composed, although she’s sure Kara can hear her heartbeat speed up.“Ms. Danvers,” Lena tilts her head slightly, giving Kara an equally forced smile. James interjects. “You know the last time I saw you was game night when the entire friend group was together. It hasn’t been the same since, you should join us next week.”Lena can’t help it when her smile falls and her eyes level back on James. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out, instead now he’s struggling to find his word. “I don’t exactly have time for game nights any longer, James.” Short, simple. No explanation needed. But James continues.“I insist, there has to be at least one night you’re free. Winn’s been dying to see you. The entire gang has, really.” James laughs his charismatic laugh, bringing back fond memories of the game nights Lena had with the entire friend group that ended in her usually winning Monopoly or losing poorly at pool only because Kara would tease her relentlessly and knew exactly how to make her lose concentration. “Really, James, I can’t.”“Just because Kara left didn’t mean you weren’t no longer welcomed, you know,” James says and there it is, the one thing Lena truly didn’t want to bring up. Kara being gone. And frankly, if she didn’t know better by Kara’s silence, believing she was still gone, had never really returned.Kara didn’t return, Lena reminds herself. Not fully. No, Kara was different, even if the only thing different about Kara was that Lena had changed and so Kara was trying to with her.“Trust me, Mr. Olsen, I’m no longer welcomed among Kara’s friends. Besides, it’s the last thing you need, an uptight, no nonsense and all business Luthor crashing your game night,” Lena practically spits out.“I--I didn’t--”“If you’ll excuse me, please.” Lena puts back on her smile and walks past Kara and James. Her shoulder brushes against Kara’s and she walks just a little faster to Jess to leave the banquet. “Lena! Wait up!” Lena turns to see Kara running after her, reaching the elevator just in time to get inside before the door closes. Jess is saying something to try and stop Kara but she’s too slow and instead is stuck staring at Lena with an incredulous look on her face when the doors close. Lena can’t help the laugh that escapes as she leans back on the elevator wall. Kara grins at her. “I can’t believe you just tried leaving me alone down there,” she teases, remaining off to the side of the elevator, keeping her distance. Lena’s smile drops. “I’m sorry. It’s just--” Kara stops her by stepping forward and pulling Lena into a hug. Lena takes in a shaky breath. She automatically crumbles into the blonde’s body, arms wrapping around her middle. Kara strokes her back soothingly as Lena lets herself have this small moment of complete surrender. The elevator dings and Lena’s pulling away but Kara manages to grab her hand and intertwine their fingers as they walk out to Lena’s office. Lena pours herself a glass of wine as Kara sits on the leather couch, struggling to find something to say. Finally, “are you okay?” The CEO smirks. “Kara, darling, it takes more than a few unkind sentences from some rich white man to hurt me.” She walks over to the blonde and sits beside her, taking a long drink from her glass. Her cheeks pink as she catches Kara watching her intently and sits the glass down on the table. “You shouldn’t have said anything.” Kara sighs. “Lena--” “Kara, I’m serious. People are going to get the wrong idea and I don’t want you compromising your position at CatCo because of me.” Lena interjects, her voice gaining a new sense of authority that she hasn’t truly used around Kara. The Kryptonian adjusts her glasses and glances down at her hands in her lap. Lena had been speaking with Kara during the gala. That had been her first mistake. She knew she should have kept her personal life and business life separate. But she had invited a CatCo reporter, knowing very well Snapper would send Kara, technically Kara was there on business. She should have known. She had finally been able to hold a gala with all her business partners to celebrate the new direction L-Corp was going in. A lot of the partners were only loyal to the Luthor name. The man who had come up to her while she was with Kara was a proud supporter of everything Lex had done with the business. It was obvious he had a little too much to drink no more open bars, Lena decided right then and there and he had begun mouthing off to Lena about ditching her brother entirely to run the business into the ground with the new approach. Lena had tried to not let it get to her. She was a master of the poker face. But Kara was right there and Kara was Supergirl and well, Kara may not have told Lena about her alien secret but it was obvious she could sense, could hear, Lena getting worked up. And Kara, seemingly having forgotten Kara Danvers was not Supergirl in that moment, stood up for Lena. It was endearing but it had caused a commotion, a lot of notice. Kara had begun telling the man off until Lena finally pulled her away and asked for a few security guards to escort the man out. Everyone had noticed and Lena could see people whispering. So she panicked, called for Jess, and immediately left Kara right where she was to get to the elevator. She should have known Kara would follow her. “Lena, you aren’t seriously upset that I stepped in for you, are you?” Kara sounds flabbergasted. Lena shakes her head. “I just…. Don’t do that again, please. I don’t want to be the reason..” Lena falters, now unable to find her words. She wants to tell Kara to stop, that she isn’t worth the trouble. Lena certainly doesn’t want to be the reason Kara loses her job or the reason Kara has potentially lost her cover for Supergirl. Lena already feels as if she’s projected herself onto Kara too quickly, that Kara’s only being polite. She knows why Kara won’t tell her the secret. It’s all because despite it all, she’s still a Luthor. She isn’t worthy of someone like Kara actually caring about her. Kara is quiet and Lena’s sure she’s thinking of some way to leave now. But then Kara’s soft lips are against hers, hand coming to rest between the space between them to steady herself. Lena sighs, one hand moving to grasp the back of Kara’s neck and scratch lightly at her skin, the other hand moving to intertwine her fingers with Kara’s hand against the couch. It’s moments like these, when Kara initiates anything at all first, that Lena forgets for a while that Kara may just be appeasing her. She lets herself bask in the idea that Kara may actually, truly, care about her. That Kara wants this as much as Lena does. Kara breaks their kiss, only to lean back slightly and take in Lena’s face. “You can’t stop me from standing up for you, Lena. I care about you too much,” she says and her words warm Lena’s entire soul. Lena smiles softly. “I don’t deserve you,” she admits, like she always says whenever Kara is just too sweet. Kara chuckles and begins pressing kisses to Lena’s jaw. “You deserve the world, Lena.” “Lena!” Kara pushes past the groups of people in the hall to try and get to Lena before she misses her. She can see Jess and Lena waiting at the elevator and Kara pushes through just a little harder. Her shoulder hits a little too hard into an older woman and Kara immediately turns back around to apologize. She makes sure the woman is okay before turning her attention back to finding Lena, but at that point it’s too late.“Are you going to let me know what’s wrong or am I going to have to lock you in the kryptonite room to get it out of you?” Alex teases Kara the next afternoon at the DEO. Kara feigns a half smile, crossing her arms and pretending to actually listen to Winn’s spiel about his new tech. Alex sighs. “Winn,” she orders. He stops talking and turns back to the Danvers sisters, noticing the distant look on Kara’s face. He frowns.“Sorry. Kara?” He playfully kicks at Kara’s shin. The Kryptonian’s head snaps back to him.“Hm?”“Uh, were you listening to anything I was saying just now?” Winn accuses, looking like a hurt puppy. Kara frowns.“No, I’m sorry.” She runs a hand through her hair and glances between Winn and Alex. “I’m fine, that last fight must have rattled me,” she lies but no one’s buying it. “Are you talking about the fight with the alien or with a rather attractive CEO who we’ve yet to see yet since you’ve come back?” Alex crosses her arms and gives her sister a look that screams ‘talk now or I will make you talk.’Kara doesn’t know what to tell them, not without admitting everything that had happened before she left. She herself was still confused on what she and Lena had five years ago. Now, with Lena telling her she’s known her secret and decidingly telling Kara she no longer needs her in her life, Kara truly doesn’t know what to feel. Or even what to do.She wants to fight for Lena Luthor, but does Lena want that?“Lena and I didn’t fight,” Kara answers lamely, sounding more like a ten year old trying to cover up an accusation put on her. Alex raises an eyebrow. Winn coughs and turns back to his computer. “We didn’t,” Kara states again, crossing her arms in an Alex-like fashion. At least in her suit it’s working a little better than it would usually.“James tells me last night was particularly icy between you two. Unnaturally so,” Alex tells her sister. Kara groans. Alex pulls her away to the kryptonite room and leans against the door, waiting for Kara to explain herself. The blonde paces around the room, head bowed. “Alex, I don’t want to talk about this.”“Kara, you realize that it might help if you tell me what’s going on.” Alex watches her sister finally stop and turn to her. “If you don’t think I haven’t noticed how Lena Luthor has gone from being the most prominent figure in your life besides me to becoming barely a ghost of your past that you hate bringing up, then you don’t know me well enough. You two were inseparable once.”“Yeah, once,” Kara mutters. Alex cocks her head slightly and Kara sighs. “Once, Alex. Before I left for five years and come back to someone I barely know.”She lets it slip, that thought that had been burning at the front of her mind since she first heard what Lena Luthor was up to when she came back. Because Lena wasn’t who she had left behind five years ago. She was too hard to read now, hard to understand. Kara could barely pick up why exactly Lena’s heart sped up when they were around one another.Alex’s face becomes unreadable as she nods her head and looks away. “You know, I visited her a few times when you first left.”Kara’s breath escapes her lips quickly and she sits down on the mat in the room. Alex smiles sadly and walks over. “She only reciprocated that visit once. The other times were missed tries at visits. Either she was too busy or Jess just told me to stop trying to see her. I invited her to the wedding, you know?”“Did she go?” Kara pictures Lena in a beautiful flowing dress, maybe dancing with Winn at the dinner after. She smiles softly at that image that appears in her head. Lets herself enjoy it for a moment.“No,” Alex admits, sitting beside her sister, “but you know, we received a rather large check from L-Corp the following week after the wedding as a gift. Maggie and I haven’t touched the money, but it’s there if we need it.” Kara opens her mouth to say something. She wants to tell Alex everything. She doesn’t know how, but she does. Alex sighs. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned with Maggie, it’s that relationships tend to work out with communication on both ends.”Kara jerks her head to meet Alex’s eyes. “W-what?”“You really didn’t think I wouldn’t see the way you two look at one another? Or how Lena’s always there early in the morning when I would come by for breakfast? You two weren’t fooling anyone.” Alex laughs, patting her sister’s knee.“Alex,” Kara buries her head in her hands. “Oh my Rao.”Alex grins. “So, what were you two exactly?”“Just friends.”“Yeah, just friends who spent a lot of time with one another behind closed doors. You’ve never had to hide that from the group you know,” Alex elbows her sister, trying anything to cheer Kara up. “Lena didn’t want to start mixing personal and business life together. Letting people know what we were doing, being open and public about that, we avoided it to avoid what came with it. That and, well, we never figured out what we were exactly?” Kara admits.It was too much to call casual dating and it didn’t quite feel like a permanent relationship to Kara. But that said, Kara never understood the earthly custom of relationships. Even trying to ask Alex questions led to awkward moments where neither knew how to talk to one another about it. That had always been a rough spot of conversation before Alex had come out to Kara. So Kara stopped asking.And Lena frankly hadn’t been any help. They acted like a couple in privacy, best friends in public. But Lena never asked what they were and Kara was not about to bring that up, so she didn’t. They remained close friends, as Lena put it, and never spoke about it as anything else.Which, in the end, sort of led Kara to believe maybe Lena wasn’t as serious about them as she had hoped.“Kara, you need to talk to her,” Alex says. “I know, I know.”“Did you even ever explain to her why you left?” Alex asks. Kara gives her a puzzling look. “Why would I do that?”The sisters stare at one another in confused silence until Alex gets this look on her face of shock and understanding. “You never told her. About that S you wear on your chest. About Supergirl being you.”Kara, for once, is completely silent, embarrassed. “I thought it was supposed to be kept a secret, Alex.”“You and I both know you let that fly out the window. And your disguise sucks so I think she would notice, especially if she’s spent so much time with you.” Alex groans, standing up. “I can’t believe you’ve never told her!”Then, as Alex becomes the one to pace, she begins piecing things together. “Did you even want to tell her?”Kara shakes her head. She didn’t want to tell Lena, wanted to keep that part away from Lena as long as possible. “Not because I don’t trust her, because I trust her,” Kara says aloud. She trusted Lena. But it was the rest of the world she did not trust. And just as Lena wanted to keep her two lives separate, Kara wanted that too, just for Lena’s sake. Despite how painful it was to keep her two lives separate. She was Kara Danvers around Lena, Supergirl away from Lena. In truth, though, she just wanted to be Kara Zor El around Lena, always. Alex just shakes her head, running a hand through her hair. “Dammit Kara.” Kara didn’t have to be a mind reader like J’onn to know what was running through Alex’s head.She should’ve just told Lena, in the end. Should have told her why she disappeared, why she left without even saying a word about it. She needed to be honest. Lena already knew and Kara owed her an explanation. Besides, she had already lost Lena damn near completely by skirting around the red cape issue, so maybe, just maybe, telling the whole truth would mend things.And if it didn’t, well, what else did Kara have to lose? ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Lena doesn’t know why she’s surprised that Kara shows up at her office. After the way things had been nearly a week ago at the gala, she supposes she expected Kara’s appearance sooner. Judging from the week Supergirl looked to be having the last few days, she supposes she can understand why Kara shows up so late.On the list of things to do, Lena is probably at the bottom of that list for Kara. Besides, Lena truly did not want to talk about the fact that Kara finally knows that Lena’s known who she is behind the glasses.“Ms. Luthor, Kara Danvers is here to see you,” Jess is at the door and when Lena looks up she can see Kara directly behind her. “Let her in,” she waves her hand dismissively and gets right back to her paperwork. Kara walks slowly up to her desk and sets a brown paper bag on it. Lena glances up and frowns. “So. You aren't here on reporting business.”“Uhm, no. Hi,” Kara begins awkwardly and sits down in the chair. “I brought donuts from Noonan’s. I'm sure you're still on that cutting sweets out diet you were on five years ago but I couldn't resist getting you one like old times.”Lena winces at that. “Old times,” it's laughable really, “as if anything can be like old times.”She sees Kara's mouth twitch. “Ms. Danvers, if you have nothing to ask me for CatCo I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I'm obscenely busy today.” Lena sighs. “Lena, how long have you known?” Kara asks abruptly and Lena can’t help but panic for a moment. She glances over at her door, making sure it’s closed. “That’s what you want to talk about?” She’s dumbfounded, really. Kara nods, eyes never leaving Lena’s. “Fine,” Lena sits back in her chair, “I knew that night at the first gala I had you attend, when I invited both you and Supergirl.”Kara breathes out slowly and Lena catches the way she picks at the hem of her skirt. “Oh, so… so, a long time.”“Is that all?”“Lena--”“Kara, I can’t do this right now, I have a meeting in fifteen minutes,” Lena says, exasperated. In truth, she wants to talk. She wants to know the entire truth. It had been bugging her why Kara never told her.Although, deep down inside, Lena already knew the truth. You could never trust a Luthor. No matter how hard she tried, she would never ever be able to get past that, even with someone like Kara. That and well, Lena had a disappointing feeling that Kara didn’t care about her enough to share her secret. “Lena, why didn’t you say anything before?”“Why didn’t you?”It’s a silent stare down and god Lena wishes the circumstances were different, that they were five years younger right now because she wants nothing more than to fall back to Kara and kiss her senseless. But that’s replaced in a span of five heartbeats because Lena knows that she’s not in the wrong, that she had every good reason to never out Kara like that. Kara left. She was gone for five years. Lena did what any sensible person had to do: move on. Just because Kara was back, crashing into her life once again, digging up old scars, didn’t mean Lena had to backtrack as if they were playing some game. “Well?”Kara fumbles with words for a moment. Then, “I was trying to protect you.”“From what?” Lena’s voice gets unreasonable stern and loud. “Enemies, the press, I don’t know. The universe? Being Supergirl isn’t exactly the safest job in the world.” Kara admits. Lena scoffs.“You talk to me as if I don’t watch you flying around in that blue suit on the news every day.” “Lena, I care about you too much to bring that side of my life into yours.”Care. Present tense. It makes Lena lose her voice for a minute. “No, you care about your secret too much to bring that into my life. To allow me to know you entirely.” She stands, feeling the urge to do something before she loses it completely. Kara, on instinct, stands as well and stays put in her spot. Lena can’t help the tears starting to prick at her eyes. “You don’t need to protect me from anything, Kara. I am a grown woman, I am capable of taking care of myself. And even more than that, I am a Luthor. I have been dealing with mother’s henchmen trying to kill me ever since I got ownership of L-Corp. The press I can handle. I can handle anything, because I’ve been doing it longer than you have known me, and I handled myself quite damn well without you for the past five years. I am not some damsel you need to worry about. I am not a fragile doll, I am not to be patronized and protected as if I can not handle anything. If anything, you protecting me from this Supergirl secret only hinders our relationship,” she swallows, hard, “whatever you want to call what we were.”Her phone is ringing. Kara is staring at her, wide eyed. “Lena, I never meant for it to be like that.”“That’s what it sounds like,” Lena goes to grab her phone, “or a rather poorly sought out excuse that lamely covers up the truth. Admit it, Kara. You don’t trust me.” “That is not what this is about, Lena, I lo--”“Enough,” Lena’s voice gives out, knowing exactly what Kara was about to say, “get out. Please.”Kara doesn’t push. She stands there for a moment longer. She tries to figure out what to say next but has no words. By now, Lena’s phone has stopped ringing and she angrily sets it down on the desk. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Ms. Danvers.”“There’s so much more I want to say to you, Lena. I want to fix this.”“Coming to me during work was the worst way to do this, then.” Her voice has gone soft, unreadable. “Waiting five years was the worst way to fix everything. Coming back after you’ve disappeared and acting as if nothing happened….. I need you to go.”Kara nods, moves to leave. She stops at the door, hand on the handle. “I never meant to hurt you this badly.”Lena doesn’t say anything, instead she keeps a straight face, staring down at her phone and pretending to be distracted by emails. She wants to say ‘and yet you did’ or ‘please, come back, explain everything to me’ but she doesn’t. That’s not her style. She won’t let herself give back into Kara that easily. That’s wrong, you’re doing this wrong, a voice in her says. Lena knows it is, knows she should hear Kara out. Talk through it like adults. But in her workplace, during the middle of the day, that’s not the way to do it. Lena will not drop everything for Kara. She has built a life around the absence of Kara Danvers, she won’t let it all fall that easily.She completely loses it when she hears the door to her office close. She shoots a text to Jess to push back her meetings and sits on the leather couch in her office, curling into the arm of the chair and crying. “You arrived quickly,” Kara laughs, opening the door to her apartment further to allow Lena in. Lena doesn’t say anything, just walks in and sets the bottle of wine on the table before turning back to Kara and diving into her arms after she closes the front door. Kara immediately engulfs her in her toned arms, head coming to rest on Lena’s shoulder as Lena herself buries her head in Kara’s neck. They stand like that, wrapped in one another’s embrace, until Lena’s feet start to hurt in her heels. She pulls away and sighs. “I was still at work when I called.” “It’s nearly two in the morning, Lena.” Kara keeps one hand on Lena’s waist, rubbing soothing circles in her hip. Lena shudders and nods. “I know. Can we..?” She points to Kara’s closed off room. Kara intertwines their fingers and tugs gently at Lena’s hand. “Come on, you need sleep anyways.” Lena sits on the edge of the bed as Kara digs through her drawers for something comfy Lena can wear to bed. “You know, I could easily slip in my underwear, Kara,” she jokes. She hears the snap of the drawer handle breaking off and chuckles to herself. “You sort of are a personal heater, I’m just giving suggestions.” Kara chucks a pair of sweatpants and a v neck shirt at Lena. “Your toothbrush is still in the same place it was from last week.” Lena stands from the bed and goes to the bathroom. Along her way, she stops beside Kara and kisses her cheek. “I’m teasing you, you know.” Kara’s waiting in bed when Lena emerges fifteen minutes later. She’s reading something on her phone, or texting Alex, Lena isn’t sure. Probably the latter, she observes, as she leans against the bathroom doorway and watches Kara smile at her phone screen before furiously typing something. “Talking about me?” Lena slides up to Kara and curls up into her side. Kara wraps an arm around her. “Alex’s on duty tonight at work and keeps complaining that she’s had zero time with Maggie this week. It’s funny,” Kara tells her. Lena shakes her head. “You’re a terrible sister.” “Oh, yes, I’m aware. And I don’t want to hear it, you’ve been gone for two weeks on a trip to China!” Kara states. Lena laughs and takes the Kryptonian’s phone from her, rolling over to place it on the bedside table. “Then why don’t you stop texting your sister to enjoy the little time we have together before I’m on a plane tomorrow afternoon for Australia.” She rolls back to her side to lay next to Kara again but the blonde has moved to be on her side as well, pouting at Lena. “This isn’t how cuddling works, love.” Kara laughs. “My sister is going to get suspicious if I disappear on her.” “Well, she’ll just have to come and figure out her sister is spending quality time with Lena Luthor.” Lena moves to lay on her back. Kara pushes herself on her belly, moving closer to Lena and playing with her hair. “Why can’t you stay a little longer? Surely you could have taken some more time off in between trips.” Kara sounds needy and frankly, it makes Lena’s toes curl at the thought of someone wanting more time with her. She smiles. “You know it doesn’t work like that. International relations are fickle, darling. You’re lucky I got this night before I’m on another flight.” She tugs at the hem of Kara’s thin shirt and Kara moves so that she’s leaning over Lena. “Hi,” Kara breathes as her hair cascades over Lena, enveloping her in the blonde curls. Lena pushes herself up on her elbows to meet Kara’s lips. Her fingers ghost under the blonde’s shirt to graze over her abs, biting gently on Kara’s lower lip. Kara groans, sitting up slightly and straddling Lena. Around them the entire apartment is quiet, the only sound coming from the city outside Kara’s room. Lena closes her eyes and takes in this moment, knowing that it’ll be the last for a few weeks as she continues her partnering with international companies to secure the largest project L-Corp has in the works yet. Then Kara’s tongue is in her mouth and she forgets all about work, the only thought in her mind now is all Kara, a heat settling in her lower stomach. Kara pulls away briefly to smile at her, honest and charming as always, enough to make Lena blush, before she’s tugging Lena’s shirt off swiftly and moving down Lena’s neck with gentle bites and kisses. “God, Kara,” Lena tilts her head back a little, both hands now coming to rest under Kara’s shirt, fingernails scratching at her skin, “I told you I didn’t need any clothes.” The blonde’s breath puffs against Lena’s collarbone as she chuckles. “You’re unbelievable.” “I try,” Lena hums, leaning back to lay back down on the bed. Kara follows, hips still against hers to lay on top of her. Kara sucks at Lena’s collarbone, eliciting a gasp out of the CEO. One of Lena’s hands go to Kara’s hair, fingers intertwining through the golden locks. She feels the absence of Kara’s lips before she hears the buzzing of Kara’s phone. Kara’s reaching for it and rolling off Lena quickly, answering it. “Alex? Is everything okay?” Lena grabs her shirt and puts it back on, moving to sit up against the headboard. She pulls her copy of Julian Jaynes, flipping to where she had left off weeks ago. “Yeah, Lena’s here…. Okay I’ll tell her that…. Are you sure? If I need to be there…. Ew, gross, enough, goodbye Alex!” Kara hangs up after that, shoving the phone under her pillow and rolling back to Lena. “Sorry.” Lena knows it’s the Supergirl identity. Knows that Supergirl is most likely needed wherever she’s needed. “It’s fine, Kara.” Kara sighs. “It’s not.” “We should get some sleep.” Lena mutters after a few minutes of awkward silence. Kara nods and moves to get under the covers, turning her back to Lena. The CEO stays up a few more minutes to finish her chapter before setting the book back down and getting under the covers herself. She pokes at Kara’s back. “I’m not really a big spoon kind of girl, Danvers.” Kara turns around, a smile on her face. Lena smiles back. “Besides, I’ve spent two weeks alone in a giant bed, so hold me please.” Kara presses her lips to Lena’s quickly. “Okay.” Lena turns around, Kara’s arms immediately wrapping around her waist and bringing her closer. Their legs intertwine and the blonde’s head fits perfectly into the crook of Lena’s neck. This is what she’s missed the most, the feeling of someone close to her. Even two weeks away from Kara felt foreign and ultimately debilitating to Lena. She thankful that whatever the reason Alex called that it wasn’t urgent enough for Supergirl. That they could have this one night, as short as it would be, together. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Lena remembers two things when she realized Kara wasn’t coming back. 1. She remembers coming home that night to her own apartment in near five months. It was completely void of food, warmth, and Kara. For the first time, Lena couldn’t see the stars. The clouds blocked them out. How ironic that was, she thinks, that the girl from the stars was gone and so was the night sky and stars she was used to looking at with Kara most nights 2. Kara had been gone for a couple days. Lena phoned CatCo after Kara didn’t answer her phone for a day. James had picked up and when Lena asked where Kara was, he was silent and Lena just knew Kara was gone. This wasn’t like the pain Lena felt when she watched Kara get pummeled as Supergirl live on television by aliens twice her size. It wasn’t like the pain she felt when she watched her mother torture Supergirl right in front of her that one time when Lena was sure she was going to die in Lex’s stupid hideaways. It wasn’t the pain she felt waking up many mornings with Kara gone to do some heroic duty, only to come back later and apologize but give a shitty excuse to where she went at six in the morning. This pain was raw and new to Lena. It was like someone had wrapped their hand around her heart and began tearing it out slowly, letting the tendons strain and the blood pump faster in anxiety. It was as if someone was sucking the breath out of Lena until she was a mess in the corner of her apartment on the floor, sobbing soundlessly and gasping for breath. Where Lex had hurt her and Lillian had destroyed her, Lena was able to rise from it, to make herself someone new out of it. There wasn’t much of a tie to it all when Lillian hurt her. Lillian was the cold figure meaning to take that place of a mother that Lena flat out rejected. With Lex, it was of course harder to get past the pain, because he was all she had for the past twenty years. The only person who somehow remained with her through it all. And then Kara comes through and it’s a new type of feeling Lena has that she hasn’t felt before and never wants to feel again. Kara Danvers meant more to Lena than she’s sure she meant to Kara and that’s where it hurts the most. Lena was sure Kara cared about her just as much. Lena put a lot into Kara where she never did with anyone else in her life. She was willing to do just about anything. It turns out she was wrong. But how? Kara never showed signs of being distant with Lena, of never not caring for her. Kara stuck her neck out just as much as Lena did for her. Lena isn’t able to do much for the first week. She calls Jess, asks her to cancel everything, damned be the consequences. Jess, like the sweetheart she was, begins sending food for Lena and checking up on her every night through text. But other than that, no one questions, no one texts. She hates it. Hates that she had begun to rely on Kara so much that now that the woman was gone, Lena realizes how alone she had always been. Hates that the only reason she ever had friends outside of work relations was all due to Kara. Without Kara, she didn’t have that. More than anything, though, Lena is confused. Why had Kara just… left? Why did Kara leave with no explanation? Lena realizes that they never had established what they were together, but there was an established something between them that certainly no one was getting in the middle of. That they were inseparable, that they were there for one another always, that Lena had never felt more loved in her entire life than she did with Kara for the past year. In the matter of three days, Kara Danvers also manages to rip away any sense of hope Lena had for her future. Manages to take Lena’s heart away with her wherever she went. Manages to destroy Lena in a way Lillian or Lex were never able to do since she was thrown into the god forsaken family twenty years ago. Lena spends most of her time sleeping in the large empty bed in her apartment. She spends the other time she has in her bath, sinking under the water and holding her breath until her chest is on fire and she is seconds away from just sucking in water and letting the pain end for good. It’s a low point for her, one she hates admitting and looking back to, but she’s never felt more lost and alone in her life that she just can’t help it. Eventually, L Corp calls and Lena must get back to work. The following weeks, they’re hard. Lena steps outside of her apartment and the sunny city greets her, unknowing of what went on behind the locked door of her apartment, unknowing of Supergirl’s disappearance. She is forced to walk past Noonan’s, where she swears she almost hallucinates Kara standing off to the side with a brown paper bag in one hand, coffees in the other, and phone held between shoulder and ear. She finds herself at Kara’s apartment the first night after coming back to work. It’s a muscle memory and Lena doesn’t even realize what she’s doing till she opens the door with the key Kara gave her and calls out for the blonde, only to be met with a penetrating silence. The pain washes back over Lena tenfold. She drops her bag and slams the door behind her, staring at the apartment. It’s as if Kara never left. There’s still a coffee mug on the counter, still a pile of blankets on the couch. Something strangled leaves Lena’s throat as she finally accepts the fact that she’s utterly fucked, because she’s wound her way back to Kara’s apartment by memory and habit. She still just stays the night in Kara’s apartment, wrapped in the bed sheets that smell faintly like Kara, in the change of clothes she’s kept over in her apartment. Kara’s integrated into everything and it’s only obvious when she’s no longer there. For example, Lena no longer goes to the donut shop on Thursdays like usual. In fact, she has to physically force herself not to because part of her hopes that if she goes maybe Kara will be there, waiting for her with open arms and telling her she just went to Metropolis or her sister needed her for the past two weeks. Some days Lena’s so caught up in her work that she forgets Kara’s gone. Other days it hits her like a freight train and Lena’s not as functional as she needs to be, tripping over conversations, a million miles away when stuck in the office. She forces herself to stop going to Kara’s apartment, begins to sleep back in her own apartment or, usually, doesn’t sleep at all. There’s one night when Lena’s stuck late at the office that she finds herself on the balcony, leaning on the edge and staring up at the stars. She finds herself cursing at the sky for ever bringing Kara Danvers into her life. Then, after a second of silence, she curses them for taking her away. Because she knows that’s where Kara’s at, she’s somewhere there, amongst the stars, as an alien would be. Lena’s used to being abandoned, ignored, not trusted. The difference is, though, is that Kara didn’t do most of that to her. Instead, she accepted Lena for everything, gave Lena anything she ever wanted, never turned her back on her when things got tough. The only small detail was the trust, but after twenty years of being a Luthor, trust was only a minor inconvenience that Lena was sure she could live without. That was, until the woman she was sure she was in love with went and disappeared and didn’t say anything because she was an alien and happened to hide that part from Lena. And that’s where the real problem was, the Supergirl problem. Kara wasn’t ever willing to show that part to Lena. Lena wasn’t going to push it, to force Kara to out herself, but she was damn near ready, just so she could finally get through to Kara fully, to be able to feel as if nothing was between them and Lena could for once feel at peace with knowing she had someone in her life. Someone who would love her. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it did, but oh god did it ruin Lena entirely. She shouldn’t have gotten so attached, should have seen this coming from months away. She let her guard down and, as it always did, it screwed her over in the end. She wanted to erase all memory of Kara Danvers from her life. Lena feels as if this relationship with Kara was always meant to fall apart. She was never good at relationships. People always had an ultimatum for dating her, or only wanted a relationship with her for all different reasons. Lena was never able to keep anyone around. She was too messy, too closed off. She didn’t want to let anyone in. Letting them in meant getting hurt in the end. Kara Danvers was yet another example of that. How could Lena have been so stupid? She had thought Kara was different. But, now that Kara was gone, having left her without a word, an empty promise, nothing, Lena realizes she had misjudged her right from the moment Kara first stepped into her office. Lena’s sitting on her couch, her apartment dark, the only light coming from the city outside her balcony. She has a glass of wine in one hand, her other hand her phone. Her thumb is poised over the send button on the keyboard.She wants to know, needs to. As much as it pains her to face the past head on instead of moving on from it, she knows she can’t live a life without Kara in it. Knows that if anything, she can at least reconcile with the woman who destroyed any hope she had for a special connection with someone that wasn't a Luthor or cared about her being a Luthor. Knows that they may never be the same again, but at least she could finally know what was just so important to Kara to leave for five years without giving Lena an explanation. It figure out what Lena had done wrong, or what was wrong with her that made Kara decide that she should leave and not owe it to Lena an explanation. Lena who put her heart out on the line for Kara without ever pushing it because she respected Kara's privacy and secret. Lena (1:20 a.m.): I want to know. You know where to find me. The balcony door is unlocked. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Kara is hovering outside Lena’s balcony, definitely not in her pj’s like she was fifteen minutes ago. No, that would have made her look as if she didn’t care that Lena was ready to talk.That was the complete opposite of Kara’s feelings right now in this moment. She was more than eager to explain to Lena, now that she felt she could find the words to actually explain what happened.Alex had tried to get Kara to speak about it and Kara wasn’t in the right mindset when Alex pushed and prodded, so she asked Alex to drop it. Her sister never asked again, didn’t push where she knew it wasn’t welcome.Then Kara went to James when she thought she was ready but still found herself lost, unable to explain. It frustrated her. She wanted to tell someone but every time Kara tried, she couldn’t do it. Now, standing on the balcony, knocking softly on the window and crossing her arms over the thin dark long sleeve shirt she was wearing, Kara Danvers felt she was ready. Lena walks to the balcony door and slides it open, not daring to look Kara in the eyes. I deserve that, Kara thinks, saying a quick ‘hi’ and closing the door behind her as she walks in while Lena goes to sit back on the couch, grabbing her glass of wine. Kara sighs. “I should have told you about the Supergirl secret forever ago.”Lena doesn’t say anything, but she’s finally meeting Kara’s gaze. It’s cold and unwavering, but Kara can see the puffiness. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers.“Apologies don’t mean anything to me, Kara. Not at this point.” Lena’s voice is clipped. Kara nods. She continues on, deciding that’s best. “It’s just that… everyone I love who knows my secret ends up getting hurt because of me.” Her voice snags at the love but Kara doesn’t regret it. She means it. Something changes in Lena’s heartbeat and Kara smiles softly. She misses that. “Alex nearly died because a terrorist wanted out of jail, James got hurt because of Bizzarogirl, and Eliza has been kidnapped by my villains. Winn, he gets enough crap being the Toymaker’s son but then he gets in the middle of a fight between Banshee and me…. They’re all I have and I don’t… I can’t lose them. I didn’t want to lose you, all because you know I’m Supergirl.”“Kara--”“And I get it, you’re a Luthor and you’re Lena above all that, you’re strong and capable and I get it I do but Lena…. I couldn’t live with myself knowing people are out to get you just because I’m Supergirl and you’re important to me.” Kara steps forward, just a bit, and she so badly wants to reach out to Lena but she doesn’t. She keeps her space. Lena takes in a deep breath. “We can’t have Supergirl looking weak, I suppose,” Lena tries, not knowing if she’s trying to crack a joke or just be downright angry. “Rao, Lena, that’s definitely not the reason. You…. you make me strong, Lena. You give me the strength I need to be Kara Danvers and Supergirl, you make me a better person, even if you don’t realize it.” Kara crosses the remaining distance, sidestepping the coffee table between them and kneeling before Lena. Lena looks down at her, thumb rubbing incessantly against her glass. It becomes quiet in the entire penthouse as they both decide what to say to one another next. Kara knows she has so much more to say to Lena, but at the moment doesn’t know if she wants to. Lena looks so lost in that very moment Kara just wants to freeze time then and there. Doesn’t want to explain her five year disappearance. Instead she leans up and moves to press her forehead against Lena’s. For a moment, Lena embraces it, lets her eyes close and releases the breath she had been holding. It’s shaky and makes Kara’s heart ache. “You deserve better than my lying and I’m sorry,” Kara breathes.That’s when Lena seems to snap out of it. She opens her eyes and leans away from Kara. “So, let me hear it, Kara. The reason why you left.” Lena crosses her arms, putting more of a distance between them. Kara takes in a deep breath. Lena already knew her secret, but disclosing the truth, she was still nervous. “Kal… Superman, he and I found something. A transmission, I suppose, I don’t know how to explain it. We ignored it-- he did, I actually really wanted to see what it was.” Kara wrings her hands together and Lena resists the reaction to pull Kara into her arms. “It was encrypted in Kryptonese. It was…. Amazing. I never felt more pulled to wanting to find something before in my life.”Lena can’t help but smile sadly at that. Kara glances at her before looking away sheepishly and beginning to pace. “Anyways, Kal told me not to go looking for it, whatever it was. So, I didn’t. Not until, well, you remember the satellite that found odd transmissions in space from a planet?”“Yes.” Lena nods. She vividly remembers Kara coming into her office, bright smile and breathless. Her hair had that windswept look to it, like it normally did but that day Lena remembers it more prominently. Kara was excited, turning on the news and explaining to Lena what this could change. Lena remembers sensing a different tone to Kara's voice. There was more behind that this could change things but it hadn't crossed her mind that Kara meant it could change things for her. “But, Kara, that was months before--”“No, I know that, but that’s because I was debating. I wanted to see if this was what I had been waiting for, the signs of life of.. My people. I waited it out, let Kal forget about it, let Alex get her mind off it. That wasn’t hard, Maggie had proposed to her and anything involving me became a distant memory.” Kara stops in front of the window, looking out at the night sky. Lena waits, uncrosses her arms.“And what about me?” She can’t help it, the selfish thought that comes to fruition. Kara’s shoulders slack a little under the weight of the question. “You were getting busier. We started seeing less of one another and I just… it was wrong of me to leave without warning but if I told you, that would mean telling you the Supergirl secret. So I left, I figured maybe you wouldn’t really notice.” Kara knows it’s not a proper excuse. “That I wouldn’t notice,” Lena repeats, voice low. Kara sighs and turns back to her.“I know.”Lena can’t help but laugh. “Kara Danvers, you're that naive to believe I’d just. Forget you?” Her voice rises in anger towards the end. Kara can't look at her in the eyes anymore. “Well no, there’s more to it. I left believing I wouldn’t be gone long but then I found pieces of Krypton as I traveled out. I used the ship that had brought me here to go to the first transmission I found. Krypton had been sectioned off into guilds, you see, and there was a guild dedicated to working on other plants and creating outposts. So I kept going and going, so eager to find the transmission, knowing that someone was out there. I kept telling myself I wasn’t gone long.. But time… it passes.. Well, you know.” Kara trails off.“So was it worth it? Leaving us all behind?” Leaving me behind, Lena means, but she says ‘us.’ Kara looks down at her feet. The no that escapes her lips is barely a whisper, but Lena catches it. She’s watching Kara’s lips closely, knows exactly how certain words form. Despite her residual anger, something breaks at the small realization; Kara Danvers’ quest was an empty one. There was nothing.“Kara I’m sorry,” Lena says. Kara shakes her head. She laughs but it’s forced and her voice cracks at the end of it.Lena’s off the couch and walking to Kara before she can recognize what she’s doing. Part of her is screaming to stop, to not fall back into Kara’s embrace, to not comfort her. Besides, Kara is the one who left and ruined things between them. Why does she deserve any softness from Lena?But that’s not fair and Lena knows it. There’s nothing worse than having to be told once again that you’re all alone. She goes to pull Kara into a hug but the woman falls to her knees, a sob escaping her lips. “I knew there wouldn’t be anything and I still let myself think that--” a hiccup stops her from finishing her sentence.Lena kneels down in front of Kara and carefully pulls the girl of steel close to her. Kara’s hands instinctively wrap around Lena; above her arms, in the way she has always hugged Lena. As time carries on and Kara continues to cry, they fall into an old routine, and Lena is taken back five years. “I’ve got you, I’m here Kara,” she whispers into Kara’s hair, eyes closed.Kara’s voice is muffled when she can finally continue. “It was a deserted outpost. Some tremor in the planet triggered a signal. The only thing left was skeletons. Kal and I are the only ones left and I knew that, but still I chased after my hope for home, which is so stupid because this is home... “ she stopped shortly, pulling back and rubbing the lids of her eyes. “I almost didn’t come back. I was exhausted. But I came back… I came back for you. No, more than that. You were the only person I don’t think I could stand not having in my life. You and Alex. You made me realize I belonged here, with you and James and Alex and Maggie and Winn.”Lena listens as Kara carries on and talks about her trip back. Kara had been shocked to learn five years had passed, and when she heard about Lena, she couldn’t bring herself to see her. It meant explaining Supergirl. It met starting over again.“Starting over again is an understatement, Kara,” Lena is blunt. “I was prepared to never see you again. I learned to be okay with not seeing you. Now…. now, I don’t even know.” She stands back up and walks to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water. Kara follows, her footsteps light against the carpet. Lena makes no offer for a drink and Kara doesn’t ask. “I don’t want to lose you, Lena.”“You already did. Do you know what I went through that first year you left? I was devastated. I let my guard down with you. I trusted you enough to never hurt me. And you did. I shouldn’t have believed that someone like you in my life was ever going to be a consistent thing.” Lena watches Kara’s face as she draws out her words. She’s practiced this; this monologue has been brewing for years now, in case she ever got the chance to say something. “For someone who listened and watched what I had to go through being a Luthor, having no one behind me unless they wanted to stab me in the back…. I thought you would’ve done better. Would knowing your secret really have ruined anything?” As she says this, Kara moves closer, now the only thing between them the island in the kitchen. The granite is cool against Lena’s palms as she grips the side, rubs her fingers insistently against the top. Kara is likewise fidgeting, her fingers curled and pulling at her sleeves. When nothing is said, Lena just scoffs. “After all this time, you still can’t admit that what you did was wrong--”“I know it’s wrong, Lena, I just….” Kara interjects, then stumbles off. Lena’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she checks it. An email from a prospective partner company in England. She still had a company to run, not sit here and bounce back and forth with Kara about who had it worse the last five years. “I should get some sleep,” Lena says, though she knows that tonight will be the worst night of sleep since Kara had come back. “Please see yourself out.”She rounds the island to pick up her glass of wine from the couch and feels Kara’s fingers, strong enough to break bones yet light as a feather as they wrap around her wrist. She falters, looks up at those watery blue eyes and it takes everything in her not to kiss Kara. “Were we dating? Before I left,” Kara asks. Lena gives her a puzzling look, thoughts of kissing and more suddenly whisked away by those words. “Well, I certainly don't kiss all my friends.” Lena's not understanding.“It's just. Alex pointed that out and well, we never established what we were. You never brought it up.” “You could have, Kara.” Lena blinks. The woman in front of her is blushing.“I wouldn't have been able to ask... earthly customs of dating are odd to me, I don't necessarily understand them. Alex and I didn't talk about those in depth.” Kara gives a half shrug, her fingers leaving Lena’s wrist to rub the back of her neck. No, come back, Lena thinks, already missing her touch. But then earthly customs of dating are odd replays in her head and she’s confused once again.“I just thought labels weren't your style. Not to mention that you weren't out to your family and that the Supergirl secret was still hiding.” Lena explains, though now it’s making a lot more sense and yet not at all. Why was Kara Danvers so puzzling? Why could she never figure her out? “Oh.” About a dozen emotions flicker across Kara’s face in the span of seconds. “I thought you didn't talk about it because you didn't want us to make it official. That it was something entirely private. And you know I like business and personal to be kept separate.” “So… did it mean anything?” Kara asks quietly, the hesitation in her voice. She’s taken a step closer, in Lena’s bubble that only she was ever allowed to break. Lena’s breath catches, wow does she want to kiss Kara and also shake her because did it mean anything? had to be the most stupid question….“Did it…. Kara, it meant everything to me.” She was sure that in that moment you could’ve heard a coin hit the carpeted floor, it was so silent and yet not because if she focused close enough she could hear the blood pounding in her ears and Kara’s shortness of breath as Kara leaned forward and-- no!Lena steps back before Kara can fully kiss her, but she feels the electricity humming between them the moment Kara’s lips brushed hers even only slightly. Five years and she was a mess at Kara’s feet once again. “Goodnight, Kara,” Lena finally says, but her brain is buzzing. She can still feel Kara’s lips, so close and yet not enough, she wanted more. She wanted more but she knew it wasn’t right, not after everything. She couldn’t just fall back into this. Kara’s pupils are dilated, her bottom lip tugging slightly between her teeth. She looks gorgeous, Lena can’t help but think. But Kara nods and walks past Lena to the balcony door. “Goodnight Lena. I’m sorry.”Kara can’t stop thinking about those words; meant. It was all in the past. Or was it? Those last few moments with Lena… there was definitely still something. It was just going to take time getting it back.
10149230	Shallureith Week 2017	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Multi", "Characters": "Allura (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron)", "Fandom": "Voltron: Legendary Defender", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by eutrash (AreteNike)", "chapters": "6/6", "completed": "2017-03-10", "published": "2017-03-06T00:00:00", "words": "4,483", "Additional Tags": "shallureith week, Mythical Beings & Creatures, mythical creatures AU, naga keith, Merman Shiro, Human Allura, uhh its gonna be disconnected drabbles but all in the same au probs, Chocolate, beach, Pets, uhh one of these deals w shiros missing arm, First Meeting, Stargazing", "Relationship": "Allura/Keith/Shiro", "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 }	Keith can hear Allura coming from half a mile away, but Shiro is napping in the coils of his tail, so he waits until the very last minute before moving and waking him up. Shiro is only just stirring, therefore, as Allura appears over the last ridge and spots them through the trees."Boys!" she shouts cheerfully, half-jogging down the hill. "I brought you something!"She brings them something more often than not, but Keith doesn't mention that. Instead he stretches forward, tightening his coils slightly around a grumbling Shiro, and tries to peer inside her bag as she approaches. She pulls it away from him though."Ah-ah, not yet. Where's Shiro?""Here," Shiro calls sleepily, waving a hand above Keith's tail. He's still lounging within but at least he's definitely awake."Let him out, Keith," Allura says, so Keith obligingly starts to uncoil. Shiro yelps as his backrest suddenly slithers out from beneath him, and both laugh; by the time Keith has mostly unraveled himself, Shiro is standing on his own two feet looking seriously disgruntled. His hair is sticking up at an odd angle, though, entirely ruining the expression."Did you have to do that?" he asks."Allura told me to," Keith says innocently."Come over, Shiro," Allura says without a hint of remorse. "This is worth waking up for." She sits down on Keith's tail, stretches out her legs, and sets her bag in her lap; Shiro sighs and limps over to join her. He can never stay mad for long. Keith curls around closer to see while Shiro sits too--a couple feet down his tail so that their combined pressure isn't too uncomfortable--and Allura finally opens the bag. She frees a small, flat box from it and holds it up."...What's that?" Shiro asks after a moment."Chocolate!" says Allura.Keith leans in and sniffs the box. He's drunk cacao before--this smells similar, but a lot sweeter, and he says as much."Oh, yes, we do sweeten it quite a bit," she says. "This is 80% though, so it's about as dark as you can get it without being entirely unsweetened.""Why would you sweeten it at all?""Because it's bitter if you don't?""It's supposed to be," Keith says stubbornly.Allura raises an eyebrow, barely noticing as Shiro gently takes the box out of her hands and begins opening it. "Surely you don't enjoy bitterness?""No, but you're not supposed to enjoy it. It's cacao.""Oh?" Allura leans forward, now interested. "Why do you drink it, then?"Keith wonders if unfettered curiosity is a human thing, or just an Allura thing. Either way, she won't be satisfied with half an answer. He shrugs."It used to be part of a ritual," he says. "We'd drink it for strength in battle. But that was centuries ago, so now people drink it for good luck before an important event." He pauses. "Or just to stay awake."Allura chuckles. It's a musical sound and Keith leans in despite himself. "We have coffee for that," she says."What's coffee?""I guess I'll bring some next time.""This is good," Shiro interrupts, and Keith and Allura both turn to look. Shiro has opened the box and torn away some sort of foil inside, and broken off a piece of the hard, dark brown rectangle within. He's chewing thoughtfully. "I like the texture," he adds, "but I wish it was a little sweeter.""Try this, then," Allura says, offering him another box from her bag and taking the other back. This one has no percentage written on it, just the words "milk chocolate." She offers the 80% to Keith while Shiro opens the other; Keith breaks off a piece and chews it thoughtfully.He has to agree with Shiro about the texture--it's very smooth, even though it's solid, and melts in his mouth; the hint of sweetness is different from what he's used to but it's not really unwelcome, either."It's pretty good," he concedes. "But I wouldn't want anything sweeter.""More for me," Shiro mumbles around a mouthful of chocolate, and they laugh. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Shiro regards the beach with no small degree of anxiety. Sure, he agreed to come here--it was his idea, even--but just looking at the waves makes him feel sick.Which is pathetic for a merman and he hates it, and that's why he's here, to fix it, but knowing that doesn't make him any less uncomfortable.A warm hand slips into his own, his real one, and he looks over at Allura. She smiles up at him."How are you feeling?" she asks."Not great," he admits. Her expression shifts into concern."Are you... having flashbacks?" she asks tentatively."Not yet," he says darkly. "Where's Keith?"It's an excuse to change the subject, but she lets him have it. "Still on his way, probably. He can't exactly walk down the street.""How is he getting here?""He said he'd come down the creek." She points down the beach, so he starts walking that way.It's not long past dawn, but already warm, as it should be in late July; the beach is private, tucked in a miniature cove behind the veritable mansion Allura's family rents every summer. Shiro is pretty sure the only reason other people don't use it anyway, though, is because the beach is pretty rocky and the creek absolutely reeks.Keith seems to agree, from the expression on his face when he finally shows up in the creekbed from behind the rocks and brush off the side of the property."I hate this creek," he complains. "It's like swimming in piss.""You like warmth," Shiro points out with half a smile, while Allura splutters."I like sunlight, not this... unnaturally warm... stinky water.""Poetic.""Thanks. You ready?"Shiro sucks in a breath and glances over his shoulder at the ocean. "Not really?""You could have a turn in Piss Pond back there, instead." Keith flicks the tip of his tail back in the direction he came, while Allura puts her hands on her hips."Must you be so vulgar?" she asks."What do you want me to call it? Urine Pond? It's the same thing.""It does smell pretty bad," Shiro says diplomatically. "And no, I really don't want to swim there.""It's contained, though. Not open like the ocean." Keith gestures down the beach.Shiro stiffens. "Keith!" Allura chides."We're here to help him get over it!""You shouldn't say it so bluntly!""I'm fine," Shiro says stiffly. He's not. The thought of the depths--what they might contain--used to excite him, but now it terrifies him. All the dark places he'd have to cross to get home...Rough hands take his own. "Shiro," Keith says, getting right up in his face. "Hey. Shiro."Shiro swallows. "Keith.""Okay." Keith backs off, but not by much. "Just stand in the shallows, at least. Right?""That's what I did last time," Shiro mumbles."Then maybe you can do more today," Allura says gently. "But we need to start somewhere."He nods, not trusting his voice. Keith takes one hand--the prosthetic one--and Allura the other, and they lead him down to where the gentle waves lap against the shore. He shivers when the water splashes over his toes; his fear is pulling him back, but his heart is dragging him forward, out into the sea, where he belongs. He's been away so long, and the wrongness of it is a hole in his chest.But he can't bring himself to take more than a few steps forward anyway, stopping when the waves swell against his knees. He shouldn't even have knees, dammit. This isn't his true form. He wants so desperately to shift back.He shuffles another inch forward. Allura and Keith shuffle with him. Keith's tail sweeps out into the ocean in front of them like a barrier, just deep enough to be completely submerged.Don't think about what's beyond it, Shiro tells himself, and moves out a little farther.He doesn't ultimately get much deeper than that, but Allura does manage to coax him into sitting down in the shallows. He half sits, half floats there, watching Allura and Keith splash around in the deeper water. Keith can't go too deep, lest someone out for a morning swim see him from around the jetty, and Allura takes full advantage, laughing and treading water out of his reach until he ducks underwater and sweeps her back in with his tail.While they're distracted, he tries shifting, just for a moment, and the familiar deep blue-black of his tail flicks through the water beneath him. But it's spotted with white scales, like the hair on his head, so he shifts back before he can think too much about how it got that way.His legs are unbearably ugly after the sight of his tail as he watches them float beneath the surface, pushed and pulled by the waves. He sighs.Someday, hopefully soon, he'll be able to swim again. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "Hello," says Shiro. "You are very small. Yes, you are!"The little dog yips in response, and Allura chuckles. Keith, meanwhile, is keeping his distance."What the hell is that?" he asks."It's a dog, Keith. Even I know that."Keith bristles. "Not all of us have legs, Shiro. I can't exactly waltz into the nearest neighborhood and meet the humans' pets.""Easy, Keith," Allura says quickly. "I'm sure Shiro didn't mean it like that.""I didn't," Shiro says. She's pleased to see he looks a little guilty, even though he's now fully sitting on the forest floor with her uncle's dog in his lap, and that Keith looks a little guilty too. Conflict avoided."I know what a dog is," the latter says sullenly. "It's just so small and... squeaky. It's not like any dog I've ever seen."Allura laughs. "His name is Squeaky. It wasn't supposed to be, but it stuck. I can't blame you for your confusion, though, he's not the sort of dog you'd let loose in the woods."Keith makes a face, considering, as Shiro continues to murmur baby talk at the chihuahua in his lap. Squeaky, for his part, is happily soaking it all up."So, he's yours?" Keith finally asks. "No, my uncle's. I'm just babysitting for the weekend.""He's mine now," Shiro mumbles, lifting the little dog to his face to kiss. He's straight-faced but there's a glimmer in his eyes, and Allura has to laugh."Did you keep pets underwater?" Keith asks, slithering just a little bit closer."We kept various cephalopods, I guess.""I don't know what that is.""Octopi. Squids. That sort of thing.""Any giant squids?" Allura asks, unable to resist a little teasing. Shiro just raises an eyebrow, though."No," he says. "They're too big."Keith snorts. He gets low to the ground and slides in closer, looking intently at Squeaky. Squeaky looks intently back, and starts growling when he gets too close. Keith freezes."He doesn't seem to like you," Shiro notes."That's odd. Squeaky likes most people," Allura says. "I wonder why?"Keith straightens up and gestures flatly at his own tail."That... may be it, yeah," she concedes. Shiro heaves a sigh."I guess you can't stay after all," he says to the dog. "Even if you are very cute."The dog yips at him, wagging his tail."Well, Keith is my boyfriend, see," Shiro explains seriously. "I'm kind of obligated to choose him over you.""Thanks?" says Keith.The dog yips again."Nope, it's non-negotiable. You don't like him, you can't stay."The dog whines. Allura, who has been smothering her giggles behind a hand, finally bursts out laughing. Shiro's face twitches despite his efforts to keep a straight face, and Keith grins. Squeaky just barks at them. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "I know you don't trust me," Allura had said. "But I promise you that I can help you."And she was right--Shiro doesn't trust her. She's human, and mer and other myths put a great deal of effort into hiding from humans. But Shiro had been taught from a young age that humans are emotional creatures, prone to attachment--if your tail is ever seen by a human, he'd been told, befriend them. Make them think they're on your side, and they'll keep you secret.It's for that reason that Shiro had agreed to follow Allura into her car, and that reason alone. He doesn't regret it, exactly, because it's hard to imagine anything she could do would be worse than what he's just recently escaped, but he's more than a little anxious. Especially when she pulls up to a building with "Laboratory" written across the front."What... is this place?" he asks, voice sounding strangled even to his own ears."My uncle makes specialty prosthetics," she says as she turns off the car. "I thought he might be able to design something waterproof for you."That was not at all what Shiro had expected to hear. He blinks, and says nothing, as she sits back and watches him."You don't have to talk to him, if you don't want to. We can leave now," she says gently. She hasn't even unbuckled yet. "You don't have to tell him anything you don't want to. Though... I think he might figure it out, anyway. He is unusually perceptive." She purses her lips and looks out the windshield at the building's front. "But I promise he is harmless."Shiro frowns, and rubs the stump of his right arm. It still aches, and the scar tissue is tender and new. He can swim without it--he did it to escape, though it was hard, harder than he thought it would be. But he can't fight without it. He can't hunt, or do much of anything useful for his family that probably thinks he's--He takes a deep, shuddering breath. Don't think about that.Allura wouldn't reveal who he is to anyone if she's going through the trouble to get him a new arm, right?"I'll talk to him," he says finally, shakily. "You're sure?"No. "Yes.""Alright," she says, and they finally get out of the car. She leads the way into the building, up a staircase, down a hall to a particular office, and she knocks."Who's there?" a voice calls from within."It’s Allura," she calls back."Allura!" There are footsteps, and then the door flies open to reveal a man with shockingly orange hair and an impressive mustache to match. He takes Allura by the shoulders and draws her in for a brief hug. "Why, I didn't know you'd be dropping by today! To what do I owe this pleasure?""Uncle Coran, this is my friend, Shiro," Allura says, gesturing. "He needs an arm."Friend. That's a good sign. "Uh... Hello," Shiro says. He squirms under the man's piercing gaze; it flicks down to his arm, then to his legs, then back up to his face."You're a long way from home, aren't you?" Coran muses. "Come in, come in. I'll see what I can do.""...How did you know?" Shiro asks after a moment. He shuffles in obligingly, if uncomfortably; Coran doesn't respond until he's closed the door behind them."Side effect of chasing fairies, back in my youth," he says easily, as though this doesn't change the situation entirely. "Once you spend time in the Land of the Fay, you're never quite the same, you know!"Allura gasps. "Uncle! You never told me about that!"Shiro gasps, too, a much smaller, shocked sound. "You escaped?""Won my freedom, actually! I'd rather stay on the Fair Folk's fair side, if you catch my drift. Hence why I never told you, Allura." Coran sits cheerfully on his own desk and picks up a notepad. "I figure if you've brought me a merman, the secret's out, hm?" He pauses. "You did know that already, yes?""Yes, yes, I did--I just..." Allura gestures aimlessly. Coran nods knowingly."It takes some getting used to, I know," he says. "Now then. Let's see about your arm, shall we?" He turns to Shiro and gestures for him to approach. "May I?"Shiro decides that this is not a man to be trifled with, not if he's escaped the Fay--but, also, a man who can keep a secret. He shuffles closer so Coran can examine his stump.Coran hums over it, gently feeling the scar tissue. "Not the work of a shark or squid, I take it?" he says."N-no..."Coran fortunately doesn't ask more than that, just hums again. Shiro has a feeling he knows, anyway.He and Allura wait patiently as Coran takes notes and examines his arm. Finally, he sets the pad down."Well!" he says. "Your injury is still a little swollen, so I can't take any measurements yet, but I can certainly start designing something for you in the meantime! We've been working on a lightweight prototype lately that uses your own nerve signals to move naturally--it would involve implanting sensors beneath your skin, but there wouldn't be any exposed wiring, so it'd be completely waterproof. We've been experimenting with 3D printing to lower costs and speed up production, but there'll still be some work to do to ensure it's light enough..." His voice trails off and he scribbles something down on his notepad. Shiro rubs his stump. He doesn't like the idea of anything implanted beneath his skin, but if it gets him a functional arm..."What will it cost?" Allura asks after a moment, and Shiro grimaces."I... have no money...""Oh, don't worry about it. After all, you'll be doing us a favor by testing our prototype!" Coran winks. "Now then, off with you! Let that swelling go down, and come back in a week. I'll see if I can't have something for you to try by then.""Thanks, Uncle Coran," Allura says, and gives him a hug. Shiro keeps rubbing his arm uncomfortably."Thanks," he echoes. It'll be another week of sleeping in the bushes, then. Maybe once he has two arms again, though, swimming will be easier, and he'll be comfortable going back in the water. Then he can go home. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Keith's territory may be kind of small and empty... and uncomfortably close to a human settlement, and the water smells... but it's his, so he guards it fiercely anyway. Not that any other nagas want it, or that any myths at all come through, except for the occasional fairy or bird-shifter.So, when two sets of footsteps echo through the ground beneath him, he figures it's just a couple of humans, and goes to spy.From a distance, they do look human. They're trekking up the little stream that runs through his woods, one on its bank and one actually in the water. He gets a little closer, staying low and downwind, just in case.And then he overhears what they're saying."There must be another pond," says the shorter, darker one. Female, he thinks."And what are the chances that one stinks, too?" says the taller, male one. "The smell has to come from somewhere. Some human runoff or something."Do humans usually talk about their species like they aren't one? Keith doesn't think so, but what does he know, he lives in the woods."I could get you an inflatable pool to sleep in," says the woman."How big are they?""Six feet? They might go up to ten. I have no idea, honestly.""I wouldn't even fit in that.""They aren't very deep, either, but wouldn't it be better than the ground?"The man stops. Keith is close enough now that he can see the guy is barefoot, and most of his right arm is unnatural; it looks like it's made of some sort of human material. He wonders if that has to do with why he apparently wants to sleep in water instead of... on the ground? Keith sleeps on the ground, but he's a myth; humans sleep in buildings, right?And the breeze brushes against his face, bringing with it the scent of the ocean though the wind is offshore today. There's the smell of human too, but just one, and much fainter.And then Keith connects the dots. The smell of the ocean, the desire to sleep in water, the way he talked about humans--he's isn't human. The woman is, but the man is mer, and probably nobility or even royalty, if he's got legs he can shift into.Can't hurt to get on his good side, then. Keith knows perfectly well there's a lot of human junk upstream before there's any more ponds, and it stinks the whole way up. He can save the guy a lot of trouble if he just tells him so.He also wants to know what the hell a mer is doing trying to find some place on land to sleep, when the ocean is right there. So he straightens up from his hiding place and slithers closer."Hey!" he calls. Both spin; the woman yelps and jumps backward into the stream, ducking behind the mer, who merely watches Keith approach."Hello," the mer says politely when Keith is close enough. "I assume we've stumbled into your territory? I'm sorry about that, I'm not too familiar with the area."Keith grunts and leans back on his tail, crossing his arms. "It's fine. Not everyday a mer walks through." He emphasizes "walks" to see the man's reaction, but he just shrugs and smiles."It's a long story. I'm Shiro." He inclines his head. "And this is Allura." He gestures back to the woman still standing behind him, albeit less fearfully now. She nods, too, eyeing his tail."Keith," he says, and nods back. "And you're not gonna find anything but humans upstream. Just so you know."Allura's eyes widen, but Shiro smiles. He probably knows nagas have exceptional hearing, just like Keith knows some mer can shift."Thank you," he says. "I thought that might be the case. Are there many myths around here?"Keith shrugs. "Bird-shifters and fairies, sometimes. Mostly just me. There's a few other nagas out by the highway, and a horse-shifter at a stable down the other side of the peninsula, but I think she's feral.""Doesn't it get cold around here, for you?" Shiro seems genuinely curious, and a little concerned. Weird. Keith shrugs again."We hibernate?" He jabs the tip of his tail towards Allura, who starts. "I'd like to know why you've let this human know about you."Shiro glances back, and puts his fake hand on her shoulder. "She's helped me out a lot," he says. "She can be trusted."Well, Keith wouldn't trust her, but he'll trust a fellow myth. A myth that isn't of the Fay, anyway."I won't tell anyone about you," Allura says firmly. "I promise.""Okay." Keith uncrosses his arms and leans down and in to get a better look at the two. They're both kinda pretty, even if they have legs; Shiro's scars don't really detract from his looks, either. But whatever. "You're allowed in my territory, I guess. Just don't bring any other humans.""Of course!" she says eagerly."I won't, either," says Shiro."Not that you know very many of us," Allura says, with a little smile."No, that's true." Shiro chuckles. "Anyway, thanks, Keith. I appreciate your help.""Sure." Keith straightens up again. "See you around, I guess.""It was nice to meet you!" Allura says, and she starts back down the stream."See you," Shiro says with a nod, and follows. Keith watches them go, and stretches out in the sunny patch by the water once they're out of view. Well, there goes his excitement for the month. He's not gonna see either of them again.Probably. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- "See those four stars there, that make a sort of trapezoid?" Allura points uselessly, knowing neither man will be able to follow the gesture anyway. "And then there's a few sort of curving off from that?""No," says Keith, which isn't surprising."Yeah," says Shiro. "The Lure. Like an anglerfish.""Oh." Allura chuckles. "We call it the Big Dipper.""Why?""Because it looks like a ladle, I suppose.""I can't see anything," Keith complains. "Just black.""And I brought something for you to help with that, just in case." Allura sits up and reaches over Keith's tail for her bag--she and Shiro both are reclining in Keith's coils, and so is he, right between them--and rummages through it. She pulls out a pair of binoculars and hands them over."What is this?" Keith turns them over, probably feeling them more than seeing them. His eyesight is... poor, not that there's much light to see by anyway."Binoculars," Allura says, turning them in his hands so he's holding them correctly. "You look through them so you can see things far away better.""Hm." Keith lifts the binoculars to his eyes. He looks around for a moment with them."Well?" says Shiro."It's just a bunch of white specks," Keith says, sounding rather put-out. Allura and Shiro laugh."They're pretty when there's a whole sky full of them," Shiro says. "Far away from humans, so there isn't any... what's the phrase?""Light pollution?" says Allura."Yes. That.""So, the middle of the ocean?" Keith is still looking through the binoculars, despite his complaints."...Yeah.""I'll take your word for it, then.""Maybe someday we can load you onto a boat and head out somewhere," Allura says, nudging him. "We just need to get our hands on something big enough."Keith grimaces, still looking through the binoculars. "I'm not that good a swimmer, y'know.""You can wear a lifejacket.""Don't ships usually have those floating rings? If we get, say, twenty...""Yes! And line them all up along his tail.""That'd probably be enough to keep him afloat."Keith groans and finally lowers the binoculars. "You two need to stop."Allura chuckles. "Sorry," she says, though she isn't, really. Keith's pout is adorable."Can I see?" Shiro asks, tugging on the binoculars. Keith lets him have them and stretches with a grumble, shifting his tail beneath them all; Shiro waits until he's settled down again before looking through the binoculars himself."You're right," he says after a moment. "There's not much to look at like this.""Told you.""There might be some planets out. I think Jupiter's around somewhere, or Venus," Allura says. "There's the moon, too.""Mm." Shiro tilts his head, finding the moon quickly. "It doesn't make it that much bigger, though.""Next time I'll bring a telescope, then.""Will that be more interesting?" Keith yawns."You don't have to come," Allura says with a grin."No, I'll come," he says quickly, and beneath the binoculars Shiro smiles, too.
10121876	This Common Pleasure	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Sakaki Yuya, Sakaki Yusho, Sakaki Yoko, Sawatari Shingo", "Fandom": "Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by ultramarcypan", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-06T00:00:00", "words": "3,267", "Additional Tags": "Prince and Knight AU", "Relationship": "Sakaki Yuya & Sawatari Shingo", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "The Prince and His Lionheart", "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’s always a strange feeling in the air, the day of a tournament, one that travels from person to person as the people of the town pass by one another. The shops are open, but it’s more out of formality and routine than anything else; no one is interested in shopping or working when there are bright tents being set up in the town square. Shingo revels in the feeling, using it as a fuel to prep him for the tournament; he isn’t good at sitting still on a good day and the excitement that bleeds into him on these days only exacerbates his fidgeting. To clear his mind (and to give him something to do) he takes to wandering around the town idly, keeping mainly to the outskirts in his exploration. Everyone he walks by points and whispers as he passes, and every whisper makes him puff his chest out just a little bit further. The armor that he wears, a polished silver with a rose carved into the breastplate, glints in the early morning sunlight and clinks with every move he makes. It’s been several years since Shingo had taken the vows of knighthood, several years of serving the crown and the people. His family name carries weight in the country; his father is one of the most influential members of court. Being a knight, a sworn protector of the realm--one who attracts attention everywhere he goes--suits him. He likes being able to bear his family’s crest, he likes the looks of admiration he gets, he likes everything about his life. A knight he may be, but no one ever accused Shingo Sawatari of being modest. Squinting up at the sun, Shingo guesses he has maybe another hour or so before he’s due back to the square to begin preparing for the tournament. He’s so busy staring up that he fails to notice what’s in front of him, or rather, who. He bumps into a very solid person, sending both of them sprawling to the ground. Shingo lands hard on his rear, a heap of armour and long limbs. He hears the person he’s bumped into shifting just a little ways from him and immediately springs to his feet. “My deepest apologies!” He says, even though that’s about as far from the truth as could be. People should watch where they’re going, especially with such an honored knight in their path. “I hope I haven’t hurt you.” Much, anyhow. A few bruises might knock some good sense into this fool. “I’m alright,” the person says, accepting the hand that Shingo is so graciously offering them. With a small tug, Shingo hefts them back onto their feet and takes a moment to really look at the one who’d dared bump into him. Before him stands a man, one who may be just a few years younger than Shingo himself, if that. His hair is a brilliant red color, one that catches in the sun and shines with every small shift he makes; streaked through it are green strands that Shingo isn’t sure if they’re ribbons woven through his hair or specific sections that the other has dyed and then woven in with the rest of his hair. “Thank you,” the stranger says, and Shingo has to force himself to pay attention to his present situation instead of just examining the other. It takes him a long moment to realize what he’s being thanked for. “Not at all!” He says, puffing his chest back out. “T’was my duty as a knight to help those in need.” The stranger lets out a tiny huff of laughter, one that makes Shingo’s skin prickle and the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up. “Especially when you run into them.” Shingo can’t help himself--his eye twitches in irritation. The stranger laughs again, louder this time, and his mirth makes the skin around his eyes crinkle a little bit. Shingo takes a second, just one, to note that the other’s eyes are dark brown and shine just as brightly as his hair does. “It’s alright, Sir Knight,” the other tells him with a wink. “I won’t tell anyone that you practically mowed over a civilian.” Shingo forgets all his training in an instant. He’s always been too emotional, if his family is to be believed. “I’m not the one who wasn’t looking where I was going!” The stranger raises an eyebrow at him. It’s perfectly styled and the same brilliant red as the rest of his hair. “Oh, really? Because I’m pretty sure looking up at the sky constitutes as ‘not looking where one is going.’” Shingo’s face turns red. “And just who are you?” He demands. His question earns him a smile and a shrug. “I’m someone who’s in town for the tournament,” says the other, which really doesn’t answer his question at all, but before Shingo can protest he continues speaking. “And I’m going to guess, Sir Knight, that you’re also in town for the tournament.” Shingo doesn’t miss the way the other’s eyes trail over his family crest; he holds his ground stubbornly, meeting the other’s face without an ounce of shame. “I am,” he says grandly, tossing his head back. He’s preparing to launch into his usual speech about his family’s noble lineage when the stranger cuts him off again . He doesn’t know if he should admire the other’s bluntness or be irritated by his rudeness. “And, Sir Knight,” the other says, a smile twisting his lips--one that does funny things to Shingo’s pulse, “Do you plan to win this tournament?” Shingo bristles at the question. “I did not come to lose,” he says tartly. For some reason, this makes the other laugh again, even louder than before. “Well then,” he says, brushing strands of hair out of his face. “I’m eager to see you compete.” His hands come up to the back of his neck and he fiddles with something; when he pulls away, Shingo sees that he’s unclasped a necklace, which he holds out in his palm. It’s a strange blue crystal, one that Shingo has never seen before in his life that has no flaws and is perfectly cut. It’s maybe the size of his thumb, and there’s thin silver strips that wrap around it intricately, all connected to a chain made out of what looks to be pure silver. Shingo’s no jeweler, but he’s willing to bet a good bit that the necklace is worth a small fortune in and of itself. His other hand comes out to tug at Shingo’s hand, and he lets the stranger take it without a fuss. “I have all the faith in you,” the stranger says casually, pressing the pendant into Shingo’s hand. “But,” he continues on, wrapping his hands around Shingo’s own, forcing his fingers to curl around the necklace, “A little luck never hurt anyone, now did it?” The other’s skin is soft against his own calloused hand, and his touch is gentle. “I couldn’t,” he begins lamely, even though he desperately wants to hold on to the necklace; it would give him another reason to talk with this strange (and pretty, his brain adds, very, very pretty) man. “You can,” the other tells him, a hint of authority creeping into his tone. “And you will.” There’s something about his voice, something about his appearance that sets off warning bells in Shingo’s head; he should know this person, has meet him somewhere before but can't’ remember for the life of him right now. “Consider it a token for the tournament.” The hands around Shingo’s own squeeze lightly and he flushes again, though not out of anger this time. Then the soft heat around his fist is gone and the other is stepping back, dancing away on nimble feet down the street. “Good luck in the tournament, Sir Sawatari!” “Uh--” Words fail Shingo and he flounders for a proper response. “Thank you!” Is all that he can manage, and the retreating form gives him a brilliant smile and a wave before blending in with the crowd. Shingo takes that as his own sign to get back to the pavilion and start prepping for the tournament. It doesn’t occur to him that the stranger never asked him for his name. * Shingo’s horse has the patience of a saint to put up with his boisterous nature and grand motions without flinching. He figures it has something to do with their bond; he’d gotten the horse as a foal when he was a young boy and he’d raised it and trained it himself. The reward for his efforts now supports him, letting him sit on its back in full arm without any complaint, head held just as high as his masters is. Absentmindedly, Shingo strokes his fingers through his mount’s mane, double checking to make sure there aren’t any hidden tangles in the fine hair. His other hand closes around the necklace the stranger had given him, almost subconsciously. He’s never been one to refuse a favor from the crowd on a tournament day, nor has he ever turned down a token of luck. Granted, he’s never been given a token of luck quite like this one before. He scans the crowd in an attempt to quell his nerves--and maybe he’s also looking for the man from before. His eyes pass from person to person, hoping to catch a hint of brilliant red, but nothing in the crowd matches the vibrancy of the stranger's hair. Shingo frowns to himself; what’s the point of wishing someone luck in a tournament and then not showing up to watch them? Fanfare sounds from behind them, and Shingo turns his horse around to see what all the commotion is about--and then almost promptly falls off of his horse. His horse makes an irritated sound at him as he rights himself, its ears flicking back in distaste. Around him, his fellow knights snicker and roll their eyes, but Shingo’s a little too preoccupied with righting himself to pay them much mind, brain whirring as he processes the new turn of events. The royal family has just entered the square. It’s not unheard of for them to come and watch tournaments; in fact, the Sakaki family is well known for being close to the people of their realm and their love of all sports and entertainment. Still, Shingo really thought he would’ve been able to recognize the crown Prince when he saw him. Especially if he ran headlong into the young lord. Yuya Sakaki stand in between his parents, smiling and waving at the crowd. His eyes come to rest on Shingo and his smile widens just a fraction; his eyes crinkle again in joy and Shingo has to fight to keep his own heartbeat steady. The Prince tilts his head and then he points to his own neck, a small motion so as not to attract attention. Shingo almost yanks the pendant the Prince had given him off of his neck in embarrassment. Yuya laughs, Shingo can tell even from this distance, and his mother turns to look at him. He waves the Queen off, slipping his hand into his mother’s and escorting her up to the viewing platform. “Welcome, all!” The King’s voice splits the air and Shingo starts; he’d been so focused on the Prince that he hadn’t noticed his lord moving to the front of the platform. “What a glorious day for a tournament!” The crowd roars its agreement and for a split second Shingo is back on familiar ground. Then, he catches sight of Prince Yuya again, who gives him a coy wink, and his world flips again. “And how fine all of our Knights look!” The crowd cheers again, and Shingo lets himself be swept up in the rush of it all. His horse paws the ground beneath him, snorting, and just like that, the tournament begins. * Shingo wins. It’s not like he ever doubted in his skills--well, maybe a little bit. Maybe a lot. He’s never ridden like he has on this day, never fought like this before in all of his life. And with every motion he makes, every blow he dodges, the Prince’s pendant clinks against his breastplate. Maybe there’s more to luck than even Shingo had ever imagined. His fingers come up yet again to play with the pendant hanging around his neck, running his fingers along the smooth surface of the stone, and he’s acutely aware of the eyes of the young Prince on him. With a soft click of his tongue, his horse trots to stand before the royal’s platform, leaving him staring up at the monarchs of his kingdom. The King is smiling down at him and Shingo is struck by how similar his son’s smile is to his own; the Sakaki family has an air about them themselves, one that makes the majority of their kingdom love them more with every wave and laugh they emit. “Sir Sawatari,” the King greets him cheerfully, and Shigo bows his head. “Your Majesty,” he says, and the King laughs. “What fine sportsmanship!” King Sakaki says. Shingo risks looking up; his King doesn’t seem to be offended that he’s unbent himself, so Shingo sits up entirely. “Thank you, milord.” He says, and doesn’t bother to hide the note of pride in his voice. To the victor go the spoils, he thinks vindictively. The king seems to agree with him. “Such fine showmanship deserves a reward, I think. What say the people?” He asks, gesturing to the crowd. Around them, the people burst into shouts of affirmation and Shingo's already sizable ego swells just a bit further. “That settles it then!” He decrees, before turning back to Shingo. “Well then, Sir Sawatari--what wish may the crown grant for you?” Shingo hesitates. It would be easy to ask for money or land, and Shingo is sorely tempted to do so. His family isn’t one for turning down power and prestige in any form, though for once, Shingo is unsure if something of monetary value is what he wants. It’s instinct that drives him to say what he does next, instinct or the necklace that clinks again against his armour as he shifts on his horse. “I ask that I be allowed to serve Prince Yuya!” He calls out. He takes pleasure in the fact that his voice doesn’t betray any of the apprehension he feels roiling in him. Winning a tournament is far easier than making a demand of his King. Around him, the crowd whispers, taken aback by his request. King Sakaki stares down at him, and Shingo is sure he doesn’t imagine the way the his lord's eyes catch on the pendant dangling from his neck and briefly he panics at the realization that he’s wearing a royal jewel on such blatant display. Still, he doesn’t flinch, nor does he give into the temptation to look just beyond King Sakaki’s shoulder to where he knows the Crown Prince to be standing. “You think yourself worthy to protect my son?” There’s no hesitation when Shingo answers this time. “I do.” For a heartbeat, there’s total silence as Shingo stares at the King, his heart caught in his throat. It breaks when Prince Yuya steps forward, resting his hand lightly on his father’s arm. The King glances down at his son and an unspoken understanding passes between them. Yuya is the one to step forward, smiling broadly down at Shingo. “I would be honored,” he begins, “To have such a brave and skilled Knight serving me.” A pause, followed by, “Especially one who is so aware of his surroundings.” Yuya’s eyes are sparkling as Shingo narrows his own at the subtle dig. “I ask that you grant him his wish father.” “Well then,” King Sakaki says slowly, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Who am I to question my son’s judgement?” He faces Shingo fully, drawing himself up and splaying his arms out. “From here on Sir Sawatari, you shall serve as a Royal Guard to the Crown Prince.” The screams from the crowd are deafening and Shingo’s thanks is drowned out by all the noise. A sea of bodies engulfs him, everyone desperate to congratulate the newest member of the Royal Guard or to shake his hand. It takes him a while, but eventually Shingo escapes the mass of people, making his way over to where he’d last seen the carriages the Royal family had arrived in. Yuya is waiting for him when he gets there. Shingo stops a few feet away from him, suddenly much less sure, and Yuya grins at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to walk into me this time?” “I did NOT--” Shingo begins hotly, and then clamps his mouth shut. Even he’s smart enough to know that mouthing off to the Crown Prince isn’t a good idea. However, Yuya rolls his eyes and steps closer to Shingo, brushing his fingers against the pendant. “You can’t be such a dreadful bore if you’re going to be guarding me,” he tells Shingo. “I’ll go mad if I have to watch you struggle to remember your manners every time I tease you.” “My manners are fine!” Shingo snaps, all reservations forgotten. Yuya’s smile widens. “Of course they are.” He concedes. “As fine as your eyes work when you’re walking around with your head in the clouds.” Shingo groans, wondering if it’s too late to change his mind about his reward. He brings a hand up to rub against the back of his neck and his fingers graze the chain of the necklace he’s been wearing all afternoon. “Oh,” he says intelligently. “Your necklace.” He moves to unclasp the chain only for Yuya to latch onto his wrist, stopping his movement. “Keep it,” the Prince says. Shingo blinks at him. “This necklace is a royal treasure.” He points out, as if Yuya wasn’t aware of that particular fact. The Prince nods at him. “Yes, and?” “It’s inappropriate for someone like to me to be wearing it!” Yuya fixes him with a look and when he speaks again it’s with the same authority as when he first demanded that Shingo take the pendant. “It’s my necklace,” he says. “What I do with it is my choosing.” Yuya pulls Shingo’s hand back down, taking it in his own for the second time that day. “Keep it,” he repeats. “Keep it and wear it proudly.” “As a good luck token?” Shingo asks, before he can stop himself. For the first time, Yuya blushes; his whole face turns a bright pink color and Shingo is mesmerized by it. “Or a token of affection.” The prince gives his hand a quick squeeze before dashing towards the carriage, leaping up the stairs in a single bound. Shingo, left reeling at his declaration, doesn’t have the foresight to stop him. A shout behind him lets him know that the Royal family is packing up, making the necessary preparations to head back to the castle and that he’s expected to join them and help out. The realization is a heady one, one that sends pleasure coursing throughout every inch of his body. He gives himself a shake and takes one step forward before pausing. Shingo reaches up and tucks Yuya’s pendant, his ‘token of affection’ safely into his shirt so that it’s hidden from prying eyes before he heads off to help with packing up. Only he and the Prince need to know that it rests around his neck.
10139525	Happily Ever After	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Minxie", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2006-12-18T00:00:00", "words": "1,104", "Additional Tags": "Mpreg, Romance", "Relationship": "Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "HPFandom", "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 }	Disclaimer: Not mine…I’m just using them for Christmas. smirkWarnings: mentions of MPreg, fluffNotes: Beta is no other than Jadzia7667. Happily Ever After Once upon a time in a land filled with magical folk there lived a beautiful blond haired boy. He grew up alone, no brothers or sisters to play with. All of that changed when he was sent away to learn about his magic. “It was Papa, wasn’t it?” The little green-eyed imp asked, then immediately set back to sucking her thumb.“I don’t know,” Harry said, his voice filled with mystery. “Guess we’ll have to hear the rest of the story to find out.” Most of the year the boy was at Hogwarts, a special school just for the magical folks. There he laughed and learned and played with all of his friends. He was happy and he was never alone anymore. It was at Hogwarts where he fell in love with the most handsome dark haired boy he’d ever seen. The thumb popped back out. “That’s you, Daddy. You’re who the blond haired boy fell in love with.”Harry chuckled softly, “Hush it, Michaela, or Papa will never get the story finished.” Over the winter holidays, the blond haired boy had to return to his home for the Yule celebrations. He missed his love and wrote to the other boy every day, telling him about the snow covered hills and the dancing fairy lights and promising to love him forever. The day before he was to return to the school, the blond boy’s father… “Grandpa,” a little boy wisely said.“You too, Zeb,” Harry reprimanded with a smile and a finger to his lips. The day before he was to return to the school, the blond boy’s father called him to his private room and told him that during the summer, the day after his eighteenth birthday, he was to be wed to the daughter of a family friend. The blond haired boy screamed and cried. He begged his father not to make him marry the wicked witch. Told him that he’d found a nice wizard, a knight that could protect him, and that they loved each other. He begged his father to let him marry the boy he loved instead. His father refused to listen to him and banished the blond boy to the highest tower of the manor. “Did Prince Charming save the fair maiden?” Michaela asked, caught up in the tale her Papa was weaving.Draco mock glared at Harry, amusement dancing in his grey eyes, as his husband choked back a bubble of laughter.Zeb rolled his eyes. “Couldn’t have, dolt. Maidens are girls. Neither of these are girls.”After Harry reminded Zeb that sisters were not dolts, Draco restarted his story. When the dark haired boy didn’t get his daily letter he got worried about his blond love. He rushed to the school and asked all of their friends if any of them had heard from him. Only one of their professors, a big scary looking man, a friend of the blond haired boy’s father, knew what had happened. He told the dark haired boy, even drew him a map of the manor and promised to not tell anyone he’d left the school. “Was it Uncle Sev’rus?” Zeb was excited to hear about their Potions master uncle. The man didn’t get along with Daddy too well but Zeb thought the man was quite funny. So did his Papa.Draco gave his oldest child a slight nod and went back to telling the story; there really was a point to the whole thing. The dark haired boy took his broom and his Invisibility cloak. As soon as he got to the little town near the school, he hid beneath the cloak and flew away. For three days and four nights the dark haired boy flew under the cover of darkness, hiding in the woods and sleeping during the day. Finally, as the sun broke on the fourth morning, he saw the turrets of the manor. The closer he got to the manor, the more he had to use his flying skills. The blond haired boy’s father started casting hexes, trying to hurt the dark haired boy, as soon as he saw the lone flyer. The dark haired boy rolled and ducked and dodged the colorful spells, zipping between the trees and over the rolling hills. He called out, asking his love to lean out the single high window. With his skill, the dark haired boy flew close to the jagged stone walls and scooped the blond haired boy up and away. Together they made the trip back to Hogwarts, one flying while the other slept cradled in his arms, only to change places after short naps. Both of the boys were too afraid of the old man to stop and spend a night somewhere. They knew the safest place for them to be was at the magical school. “Yay,” Michaela shouted, throwing both hands high in the air. “He saved the fair maiden.”Zeb pouted as Harry glared him into silence, stopping him from pointing out yet again that maidens were girls.“Did they live happily ever after?” Michaela had long forgotten that this was really the story of how her parents had met. As soon as both of them turned eighteen, the boys ran away together and got married in a small ceremony by the sea. One year later, the blond boy found out he was pregnant and would have a son. The men were happier than they ever had been. They named their boy Zeb; his hair as dark as his Daddy’s and his eyes were the color of an oncoming storm. When the little boy was three, the blond haired boy found himself expecting another baby. This time he was to have a daughter. Michaela looked just like her Grandma, beautiful auburn hair and green eyes. The family of four settled down in the country near a lake and played together all during the day. And then, when the young girl was four, the blond boy found himself pregnant one last time. The family was expecting another… The words were cut off as Harry, setting Michaela to the side, cupped one hand around his husband’s cheek and rested the other against his still flat stomach. “Draco?”Grey eyes sparkled with joy as he answered the question hidden in that single word. “Yes, love.”As Harry’s mouth closed over Draco’s in a deep kisses, Michaela stuck her tongue out at her bother and declared, “Told you Papa was the fair maiden.” …end
10141271	Merlins Holy Light	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "George Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Other(s), Fred Weasley", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by phoenix1001 [archived by HPFandom_archivist]", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2009-07-28T00:00:00", "words": "864", "Additional Tags": "Bonding, Romance", "Relationship": "Harry Potter/Other(s)", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "HPFandom", "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 }	“Gran, I am so nervous,” Neville Longbottom said as he waved his wand in front of his robes, trying to get the wrinkles out. “I mean, I am getting married today to the man of my dreams. Look at these robes, though. I can’t get the damnable wrinkles out.” Augusta Longbottom waved her wand and the wrinkles came right out of Neville’s robes. “Neville, you have been best friends with you fiancé since you were five years old. The two of you have been dating since you were a sixth-year. You’re more than ready for marriage. Just remember, wedding day jitters are normal. Your father, for instance, was so nervous the day he was married to your mother, he kept trying to put his robes on backwards and tried to put his hat on his feet and his socks on his head!” The sounds of organ music could now be heard wafting into the room, and the perpetually bushy-haired Hermione Granger stuck her head into the room. “It’s time,” she said excitedly. Neville followed her out of the room and towards the gardens of Longbottom Manor. Hermione stuck her head outside the door and motioned to the organist, who immediately segued into Here Comes the Bride. Augusta had caught up to them by this point, and insisted on escorting Neville down the aisle. Neville and his gran started down the aisle, and Neville was getting even more nervous with all the eyes on him. A loud “rrrrriiiibbbbitttt” resounded from near the alter, and Neville looked up and saw Trevor sitting there next to someone in a pair of shiny black Oxfords. He looked up from his toad to see the face of his lover of over fourteen years now, and immediately calmed down, breaking out in a wide smile to match that of his lover’s. As they reached the front of the alter, Augusta gave Neville’s shoulder a squeeze and went to her seat. Neville joined hands with his husband-to-be, and they turned to face the minister. “Let us begin,” the priest said. “The bonding of two fine young wizards is a wonderful thing. Now that we are back to peaceful times once again, we have a chance to bring rebirth to our world. Hope, love, prosperity – these are the things that will flourish. A marriage borne out of time-tested love, however, is what we are here to celebrate. You want to hear my sermon, come to one of my Sunday services.” The crowds chuckled at that. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to bear witness to the joining of two souls, two people, in marriage. Who gives these young men away?” Augusta Longbottom and Severus Snape rose and stepped forward, saying in unison, “We do, Father.” “Do you believe their love for one another is unwavering and true?” “We do.” “Will you bear witness to the bonding of your son, Severus, and your grandson, Augusta?” “We will.” “Thank you. Will the ring-bearers please come forward?” Severus and Augusta separated and stood next to their child/grandchild while Ronald Weasley and Seamus Finnegan came forward. “Let us proceed,” the priest said. “Neville Frank Longbottom, take this ring and claim my friend and brother-by-love as your husband and bond-mate,” Ron said. Neville took the ring, and, slipping it onto his fiancé’s finger, said, “I, Neville Frank Longbottom, Lord of Longbottom and Prewitt, do hereby claim you as my husband and bond-mate, from now until all eternity.” There was a bright golden flash of light as magic accepted Neville’s oath. As the light simmered down to a tolerable level, Seamus stepped forward, saying, “Harold James Potter-Snape, take this ring and claim my friend and brother-by-love as your husband and bond-mate.” Harry took the ring and slipped it onto Neville’s finger, saying, “I, Harold James Potter-Snape, Lord of Black and Potter, Heir Apparent of Snape and Prince, do hereby claim you as my husband and bond-mate, from now until all of eternity.” Again, the golden light flared up brightly, and this time, an uplifting burst of phoenix song sounded throughout the grounds. Neville felt a joyous swelling of pride and happiness settle in his chest, as he leaned over and gave his husband (his HUSBAND!) a kiss in front of all their guests. “Oh my word! This is truly a match made above!” the priest proclaimed, even as the guests erupted in surprised gasps. For as Neville kissed Harry, glowing golden crowns appeared upon their heads and a pair of golden scepters appeared in midair next to them. “Only once before has this blessing been bestowed upon someone, and that was upon Godric Gryffindor, when he had married Helga Hufflepuff. This marriage has become a bond of Merlin’s Holy Light!” The crowds stood and applauded, as the priest continued on to announce, “I now present to you Messer’s Neville Frank and Harold James Potter-Snape-Longbottom, Kings of the Wizarding World.” The newly bonded couple walked hand-in-hand down the aisle to lead the way to the reception as the Weasley twins, who had not been seen for the last ten minutes of the ceremony, now that Neville thought about it, set off fireworks that spelled out, “JUST MARRIED!”Fin.
10193558	Departure	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Jack Harkness, Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Martha Jones, Mickey Smith, Luke Smith, Sarah Jane Smith, Ianto Jones, Alonso Frame, Wilfred Mott, Donna Noble", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by melianthegreat", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-09T00:00:00", "words": "5,487", "Additional Tags": "Established Relationship, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Porn with Feelings", "Relationship": "Tenth Doctor/Jack Harkness", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who & Related Fandoms", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	The Doctor was finding it more and more difficult to move around now, sleeping longer, fighting with himself to get out of bed, most unusual for him. The radiation he'd absorbed saving Earth from the depravity of the Time Lords and their Final Sanction was beginning to conquer him. He'd told Wilfred he was going off to get his reward before either death or regeneration claimed him. He'd dropped in on Mickey Smith and Martha Jones, married, happy with each other as freelance alien hunters, playing Whack-a-Mole with a Sontaran who had the drop on them. He didn't speak, just stood watching, but Martha noticed him."Mickey," she whispered, and then he noticed.Care for one another, his thought told them. Make lots of babies. My time is over. And they held each other tearfully as he walked away, knowing they would never see him in this form again.He'd rescued Luke Smith from certain death as he chatted with his friend Clyde on the cellphone, oblivious to the car about to hit him. Bad enough he was a stupid kid, but he was also Sarah Jane's stupid kid, his Sarah Jane's stupid kid, and that made him special. The Doctor had seen the car, had seen Luke wasn't paying attention as he crossed the street. He had to act fast. He ran and snatched Luke by the waist, spinning him away from the car to land on his feet on the sidewalk. Luke stared at him in shock and wonder. Take care of your Mum, and yourself, was his message to the boy. Luke called out to his Mom as the Doctor walked to his TARDIS across Bannerman Road. Turning back, he saw Sarah Jane staring back at him, her son by her side. Eternally beautiful, radiant, brave Sarah Jane. He didn't know if he would regenerate, or if he would remember her if he did, but somehow he would carry that look on her face with him. She knew what was happening. Goodbye, my Sarah Jane, he sent the message to her. Then he went inside. The Doctor plotted who to contact next. He had a specific time in mind for Donna, who needed a special gift he wanted to give. Poor Donna, who had lost more than just about anyone short of losing her life, and he'd done it to her. Like Rose had made him better, he'd made Donna Noble better, and then took it all away from her. He needed to compensate. But it wasn't time yet. Rose was going to be last on his list. He knew who to reach next, but every cell in his body naturally resisted. Even the TARDIS seemed to groan at the thought. There was the 'fixed point in the universe' conundrum, but it was more than that. This would be far more emotional, more difficult than nearly all of them combined.He had to say goodbye to Jack.~#~Jack Harkness was running wild in the universe. Of course many in the universe would question when Jack wasn't running wild, even by 51st century standards. But Jack had become beyond control. Grief raged through him, dark and large and as howlingly primal as anything within Norwegian Death Metal. He'd lost so many he'd loved along the way, especially as he'd come to understand his immortality meant saying goodbye to so many. Especially on Earth with humans in the 20th and 21st century. But Ianto had somehow broken something deep inside, opened a wound so wide and deep it would probably never heal. There was no recovery from his death, something that led Jack to abandon Earth. Ianto Jones had never been a part of the bargain: it was to be a part of Torchwood, wait for the Doctor to reappear, find out if he could reverse what had happened, and maybe make peace with him being abandoned on the Game Station. Once he'd done that, the young Welshman suddenly mattered to him in ways that kept him there. Now Ianto was gone, Rose was gone, Donna was gone, Martha and Mickey were together, and nothing else would ever matter again. And so Jack had simply unleashed himself--getting drunk, fights that sometimes led to his death in hope one time he'd stay dead, becoming reckless. And there was always sex. In the 51st Century what was accepted was pretty much anything, but even then some social limits existed, including what people thought of those who enjoyed sex a little too much.Even by 51st Century mores, Jack had the reputation of a male slut. It wasn't entirely true, not anymore. At least not until he lost Ianto. Now he decided to live down to everyone's expectations of him. No matter the species, no matter the gender, if it showed half an interest he was doing it. Nothing simply mattered anymore. That wasn't entirely true. Someone else mattered, but it wasn't like Jack could make him show up or stick around on a regular basis. The Doctor, as much as, if not more than his dear Ianto, had been Jack's great love, a lover of great intelligence and delicacy, who sometimes spoke to him in a nearly-musical Gallifreyan dialect in the height of passion or when he thought Jack was sleeping, whispering tender words no longer heard in the universe as he held Jack in his arms. Their times together had been rare and memorable, and sometimes Jack had wondered if he became vulnerable to Ianto's affections because he was like The Doctor in some ways. But The Doctor was a free spirit, and to force him to settle down in one place was to Jack like making a pet from a wild animal. It was cruel, and he couldn't bring himself to do it.It didn't stop him from being lonely, from longing for the familiar touch, the way they kissed, the way The Doctor stroked him with his long, thin fingers. And thinking of The Doctor always led to thinking about Ianto Jones, how Jack had loved him. And how he'd failed him. And then he'd try his route to self-destruction again.On this particular night Jack had stumbled back from a bar somewhere in the asscrack of the galaxy, nearly dead-drunk on hyper vodkas. He'd struck out on the companionship for the night, something that was happening with greater frequency. He wasn't sure of the reason for that, whether he'd finally overfished the waters here or he was spending more time drunk, and it was finally affecting his skills in that area, which was getting around. But tonight he was alone, his pickled brain was swimming with too many memories, and Jack had collapsed onto his bed to sleep it off, hoping the dreams of lost love wouldn't come that night, that he'd simply sleep a bit, and the hangover wouldn't be too bad.Reality was shattering with the vision of Ianto dying in his arms, of Jack begging Ianto not to leave him, of waking up knowing the world would be forever gray and empty, of never being able to wander the streets of Cardiff and hear lovers murmur to each other in Welsh and not feel his soul ripped open. How could Jack have been so fucking stupid? He'd lived so long on Earth, knowing how fragile the human body was, knowing how dangerous the job was, of how most members of Torchwood never lived long enough to retire--James fucking Bond had a longer lifespan than the average Torchwood agent. And yet he'd let himself fall in love with Ianto despite firsthand knowledge that humans age and die, while he continued to live on. Why couldn't he tell Ianto how he felt about him? Why couldn't he have just left the young man alone?Jack... there was a separate voice within this dream, a voice familiar to him. No, Jack thought, it had to be a separate dream. Just as cruel, though, just someone else he couldn't have.Jack... that voice again. somewhere in his sleep came a distant memory, a story The Doctor told him as they lay together in bed in the TARDIS after sex. It was how he'd sent Rose to the parallel universe and appeared to give her one last goodbye as the walls between dimensions were closing. And he'd summoned her by calling out her name over and over until she answered.Jack sat up. Could that be happening again? Still half-drunk, he walked outside and came face-to-face with the familiar blue box. He blinked stupidly as the door opened and the figure of the Time Lord stepped out, looking solemn. "Doctor?" Jack whispered, not quite believing what he was seeing.The Doctor stared at Jack sadly. "Jack?" he greeted him, not smiling. "Oh, Jack... what have you been doing to yourself?""Just enjoying myself, I guess," Jack slurred and stumbled slightly. "Not much else to do around here, you know.""I can see that," The Doctor acknowledged. Without another word he grabbed Jack's hand and pulled him into the TARDIS, removing his greatcoat and laying it across one of the coral hangings in the control room. The TARDIS gave a hum of concern, feeling the presence of the Fixed Point, and yet this hum was different than the way Jack remembered it. Somehow it was more tolerant, more accepting, more like the way the hum sounded when he was a companion with Rose. Before the Game Station. Before the Daleks killed him. The hum was gentle, nurturing, saying there is something we can fix here. "Through those doors," The Doctor instructed. "Shower and sober up. I need to tell you something.""Can't I be drunk for this?" Jack groaned. "I've gotten used to going through life drunk, you know.""No, you can't be drunk for this!" The Doctor replied testily. "Sober up. And I'm the only one here, so there's no one here to flirt with.""I can always flirt with you," Jack purred, giving a lopsided grin.This comment would normally bring an amused light to The Doctor's eyes, or at least earn a somewhat exasperated tone of voice. This time, though, what Jack saw and heard was something soft and sad. "Not this time, Captain. Now go on before I find I can't tell you."Jack made quick work of the shower, but the sobering up part had been achieved by that tone of voice with The Doctor's last statement. Something within Jack knew something was quite different, different and wrong. He wondered what it was. Perhaps Rose somehow came back across dimensions to warn of an impending problem. Maybe somehow the Daleks had returned, or Cybermen, or the Slitheen. After all, he wasn't in touch with Torchwood anymore to know these things. When he stepped out of the shower the TARDIS had provided him with a bathrobe. Jack had considered stepping out into the control room nude--not the first time he' d done that, nor the first time The Doctor had not been waiting for him in the same manner (Naked Hide & Seek, a game Jack loved to play with Ianto and cheat at, had been invented by The Doctor himself, along with the cheating). The appearance of the robe, however, told Jack nakedness wouldn't be appropriate.He stepped out of the warm, steamy room into the cool of the TARDIS' control room and shivered slightly. "Sorry about that, Jack," The Doctor announced. "I forgot Humans are so hotblooded. I'll turn the heat up for you." The Doctor twisted a couple of dials and suddenly Jack was feeling more comfortable."You know, you didn't have to change the temperature, you could have found a more hands-on approach to warming me up." Jack flashed that megawatt smile known in many galaxies, thinking The Doctor would be amused. Instead he gave Jack the same serious, sad expression he'd seen before and his smile faded. "Doctor, what's wrong?" he asked softly. "What do I need to know?" The Doctor could feel Jack's blue eyes boring into him, waiting expectantly. He gripped the console as he stared hard at the floor. "Oh, Captain Jack Harkness," he whispered. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry.... This is so much harder than I ever dreamed it would be..."Jack was worried. "Doctor?" he asked, his voice betraying his concern."I had an accident," The Doctor answered, looking into his face. "There was radiation, 500,000 Rads of it, and I had to absorb it."Jack nodded. "You were saving the Earth again, weren't you?" he asked. The Doctor nodded. Jack grinned slightly. "You're always getting yourself in trouble when the survival of Earth's at stake," he replied, his voice shaking a little and trying to reassure himself. "One of these days, you're going to kill yourself doing that...." Jack suddenly faltered and stared at The Doctor in shock. "Doctor... are you dying?""I absorbed a lot of radiation, Jack," The Doctor answered sadly. "Chances are I'll regenerate, but there's no guarantee. And even so, there's no guarantee that I will remember you, remember us, if I do regenerate. You mean enough to me where I will, hopefully, remember you as a traveler with me. But you could easily just be a traveler and nothing else." The Doctor paused, letting the news sink in.Jack was silent for a few moments. Then The Doctor noticed his eyes welling with tears. "This can't be happening," he whispered. "It's just impossible. We have to do something. There has to be a planet somewhere where you can be saved." Jack was starting to visibly shake with fear and grief."Jack, you know if you absorb the wrong kind of radiation, or you get enough of it, this can happen, " The Doctor argued. "No matter how advanced we get in the universe, nothing can prevent cellular destruction due to radiation poisoning.""But you can regenerate," Jack countered. "You've told me stories of how you faced worse and regenerated.""Jack, I'm 906 years old," The Doctor stated. "I'm pretty advanced in my life cycle. Whenever I regenerate, I don't know what will happen anymore. In fact, I could die before I have the chance.""But, you can't," Jack protested, trying to hide the pain in his voice. "Doctor, if you are indeed the last of your kind, and I'm an anomaly in the universe, then you're the only one who can truly understand the magnitude of what I've lost. I've lost families, lost friends. I've lost Ianto. He didn't just slip out of my life, he's gone! Who other than you can know how alone I am?" "You asked me once whether I wanted to die. I said no, because there was Humanity spreading across time and space, and I found it fantastic. And then I fell in love with Ianto, and that made it even better, because what was there for me could be out here for someone else. But he died, and when he died I realized he would never be out here. He was unique to the entire universe, and now he's gone it's all gone. To be without you and him for the rest of eternity.... I just can't....I...." The tears finally spilled down his cheeks. "I can't let you die, Doctor. I. CAN'T. LET. YOU. DIE!"Jack then did something that The Doctor realized, should he have future regenerations, he would never forget. Jack Harkness--strong, fearless, former Time Agent, hardened boss of Torchwood, Captain Jack Harkness--wept. Not just a few tears--great wracking sobs that convulsed his shoulders. It was then The Doctor understood how much the loss had broken him. He grabbed Jack and pulled him to his body, holding him tight and close. Jack buried his face into The Doctor's shoulder and stayed there, weeping as The Doctor tenderly caressed the back of his head. They stayed together like this for an unknown time until Jack's breathing relaxed and his tears slowed. When he finally looked up again his cheeks were wet, his eyes deep red. The Doctor brushed the tears from Jack's face, caressing his cheek with the back of his long fingers. Jack simply looked so unbearably sad. The Doctor reached in and softly kissed his lips to comfort him. This led to a second, longer kiss, still slow and soft. Before either was aware their tongues were exploring each other's mouths, their kisses less tender, The Doctor, letting his arms move onto Jack's waist, pulling him closer. He could feel Jack was responding to him, could see his blue eyes growing darker and fluttering half-closed. Taking his hand, The Doctor led Jack from the control room, hoping the TARDIS would cooperate and place the bedroom nearby. She did. And the temperature of the room was comfortable for both of them. Continuing to kiss Jack deeply, The Doctor made quick work of his outer suit coat as Jack unbuttoned The Doctor's fly, reaching inside to stroke his length. The Doctor gasped and threw his head back at the touch. He slowly untied the sash of Jack's bathrobe and lowered him to the bed, nibbling on Jack's earlobe, nuzzling the side of his neck, drawing a soft moan. The Doctor could smell the pheromones pouring off his sometime lover as his hands roamed over Jack's bare skin. His hands were followed by his lips, trailing along the collarbone, licking and teasing each nipple as Jack's hands tangled in The Doctor's hair.The Doctor removed both his shirt and black T-shirt as he continued to kiss and lick lower. Jack gripped the pillow tightly and moaned helplessly into it as The Doctor found the sensitive spot next to his hip and lightly teased, working his way around the cock that was desperate for attention. The sounds Jack brought out did wonders for The Doctor's arousal, something that threatened to distract him from the task at hand. But The Doctor was aware this was a rare moment, a time when Jack, a natural top, was feeling vulnerable and needed to be on the receiving end this time. Not that he minded being the bottom when he and Jack were together, considering personality-wise The Doctor was a leader who legend said commanded multitudes. It was more taking an opportunity when it was presented and both were in the mood.The Doctor took his time lavishing Jack's inner thighs before the exquisite torture of suckling Jack's testicles one by one. Jack's response was to arch off the bed and cry out loudly. "Doctor! Oh God!!" he shouted as The Doctor gave a predatory smile. Jack began to tremble with need as The Doctor continued, licking a stripe up Jack's sizable, leaking cock, flicking the tip of the tongue over the slit, finally placing the head in his mouth. Jack appeared delirious as The Doctor stared up at him, writhing and panting, lost in pleasure. It was exactly the way he liked to see his friend, but he wasn't done yet. Pouring a warm Gallifreyan oil on his fingers he prepared Jack carefully, and he chuckled with satisfaction as he stroked Jack's sweet spot and heard him begging for more, so much more.The Doctor stretched out on top of Jack as Jack spread his legs for him. "Doctor, please...." he rasped, almost desperate. It was all the invitation The Doctor needed. He slicked down his own cock with the oil, reluctantly having to stop stroking himself before he came prematurely. Then, lifting Jack's legs to the point they rested on The Doctor' s shoulders, he impaled Jack almost completely. They both sighed with contentment at the feeling of filling and being filled, the sense Jack had of belonging to someone again, the sense by The Doctor he was sharing something with Jack he didn't share with just anyone.They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, Jack's blue eyes clear and dark, pupils blown open with lust, The Doctor's brown and full of fire. "Doctor..." Jack whispered gently, his voice already full of emotions known and unknown, acknowledged and unspoken. "My lover," The Doctor whispered back to him in Gallifreyan as he slowly pushed into him and Jack arched his back, wrapping his legs around The Doctor's waist. As both adjusted to the other The Doctor began to adjust his thrusting, snapping his hips a little more, sometimes using a circular motion. Jack panted, moaned, and swore in various languages he picked up on Earth and elsewhere in response to the movement. He would shut his eyes, lost in the passion, then suddenly would snap them open again and look at The Doctor with an expression of devotion, adoration, and tenderness; Blimey, The Doctor thought, if this was the way he looked at Ianto during these times, it's no wonder the Welshman fell in love with him . Jack, meanwhile, was having trouble putting together a coherent thought, much less the ability to form words. The Doctor had always been an excellent sexual partner for him, their bodies and imaginations seemingly attuned, but this time--whether due to circumstances or fate or overall desire--they were perfect together. With each thrust the Doctor was thrumming his prostate, causing Jack to see light behind his eyes, feeding his fire. He planted his large hands on The Doctor's ass and pushed, silently begging him to go deeper. But whenever Jack tried to speak, tried to tell him what he wanted, only noises would escape. And whenever he made those noises, The Doctor would smile that goofy smile of his and reach down and kiss him.The Doctor felt Jack shift slightly and he felt his climax building inside. Jack's eyes had taken on a faraway, trance like expression. While his hands were still on The Doctor's ass, it was clear he was no longer pushing on him, that his body was gathering up. The Doctor grabbed Jack's cock and began stroking him. "I want you to come for me, Jack," he whispered. "Oh yeah, feels so good doesn't it?"Jack could only moan at this point. He was so ready he could barely hear what The Doctor was saying to him. He could remember a final thrust into him, then suddenly the tension snapped. He was releasing, thick and hot, onto his chest and stomach, and screaming. At the same time his body began to shake violently as he began to squeeze around The Doctor almost painfully tight. He heard The Doctor shout out words he didn't comprehend, probably in Gallifreyan. Then what sounded like a strangled cry. And then Jack heard nothing.When he came to sometime later, The Doctor's cool body was holding his close, softly kissing his lips, his face lightly stroked with long fingers. Jack realized sometime in all of this The Doctor had actually cleaned him up, and they were both wrapped in blankets. "There we go, there's my Jack," The Doctor murmured soothingly."What happened to me?" Jack asked as he snuggled into his lover."Well, this is only an educated guess," The Doctor answered in a cheeky tone, "but I'd say you had one heck of an orgasm." Jack laughed. " It made you pass out for a bit.""I can remember screaming," Jack recalled, blinking as he tried to focus on the moment. The Doctor nodded. "Oh yes," he confirmed. "It was loud enough where I think the profoundly deaf on six planets heard you. I considered it a compliment to my considerable skills. Actually, not a bad note to leave this life on."Jack pulled The Doctor down to him for a soft, deep kiss. "Must it happen?" he asked simply.He watched as The Doctor's eyes glistened with the beginning of tears. "Yeah," he answered. "There are a couple of people I need to make my farewells to, but... yeah."Jack was silent for a few minutes as he stroked The Doctor's face, trying to memorize his face by touch. The Doctor noticed the thoughtful expression on his face and realized Jack was preparing to say something profound to him. "I love you, Doctor," he said. "I didn't say it to someone who mattered before, and that was a mistake I don't want to make again. You may not be in love with me, and I'm okay with that. I just wanted to tell you, once." The Doctor listened carefully to what Jack said, watching as his face grew soft, conveying to The Doctor sincere emotion, not just post-orgasmic euphoria. "Oh, Jack..." sighed The Doctor. He looked away a moment; when he glanced back to Jack again his chin trembled a bit. "There have been a few fellow travelers in my time, and they all meant something to me. Not many of them have been very special. I liked them all, I've needed them in my life, because the times I've been alone things have gone wrong." He dipped down to kiss Jack again. "But I can say there have only been a few I truly loved. Sarah Jane was one."Jack nodded. "And Rose."The Doctor nodded back. "And...you." He smiled, though to Jack the tears were near. "And to lose you is perhaps the greatest sorrow I face." They wrapped themselves around each other and made love again, this time Jack on top, controlling the action. With Donna, The Doctor had wiped her memory to the day of their first meeting in order to save her life, to save her for the future. Jack needed saving for the future in a different way. And so there would be no removal of his memory. The Doctor would make sure Jack would remember this, remember their expression of love, remember one who he thought beyond his reach was right here with him, would always be with him whether he was in the universe or not.Later, as Jack slept in his arms, The Doctor kissed his forehead and gently whispered, "I love you" in English. Somewhere in his sleep Jack overheard, as he snuggled closer and planted a kiss on The Doctor's chest. ~#~ A few days later Jack was making an appearance at the same bar he'd been hanging out in lately. He'd sobered up since the last time he'd been there, and with clear eyes he could see more of the multitude that frequented the place. It was early in the evening, so while Jack was nursing his first dram of Scotch he was carefully watching an Adipose stumble its way along the edge of the bar. The Adipose could never hold their liquor. The place was filling up quickly with everything from Judoon to Slitheen, but it was not yet so crowded he couldn't tell one from another. So it was that Jack was able to watch the cute but tipsy Adipose finally fall off the end of the bar and crash to the floor. Jack chuckled at the sight. He knew he probably shouldn't find the misfortune of another species amusing, but it was funny.The bartender walked up to him. "Are you Jack?" Jack nodded. He handed Jack a piece of folded paper. "From the gentleman back there," he said, motioning behind him. Jack looked up and saw The Doctor across the room. And Jack knew the time had come. This would be the last time Jack would ever see him. The Doctor glanced quickly down to the paper, then back up into Jack's eyes. Read it, Jack heard The Doctor's voice in his head. Jack unfolded the paper.His name is Alonso, the note read. Confused, Jack glanced up to The Doctor again. The Doctor indicated to Jack's left. He's right over there. A couple of seats over at the bar sat a young man, dressed in a Midshipman's uniform. Jack took note of a few things immediately: for one, Jack always appreciated a young man in uniform, especially one who filled it out so well and looked so handsome in it. Second this Alonso really was cute, apparently even without the uniform. And third, one of Jack's great frustrations with The Doctor had always involved flirting with new people. Every single time Jack introduced himself to someone in the universe, The Doctor would be there with two words--"Stop it." Not that anyone seemed to mind his flirts, which to Jack made him wonder how much The Doctor was admonishing him and how much was simple possessiveness. It had become so pervasive Jack had started to admonish himself when alone and felt in the mood to masturbate. So for The Doctor to present someone to him...that was indeed something special. Suddenly Jack made a realisation: To his knowledge The Doctor had never deliberately played matchmaker before, to any of his companions. Alonso was potentially a gift to him, a way of easing the blow of The Doctor's departure. Jack didn't know this kid, but clearly The Doctor did, and somehow thought he and Jack would like each other. It was one of the most generous gifts ever given to him by anyone in his now-immortal life, gratitude for the fact he could have hated this Time Lord for everything that had happened--the pain, the abandonment, the rejection for his freakish nature--and yet did not. God, I love him, he thought. I would follow him anywhere, into battle with Daleks or the heart of a supernova. And then Jack stood, making sure The Doctor could see him. Then Captain Jack saluted his leader. Leader in battle, leader in friendship, leader in love. I'll be alright now, Jack projected his thought to The Doctor.You better be, The Doctor thought back as he walked out.Jack turned his attention back to the attractive Midshipman. "So, Alonso," Jack began with a smile, using his best pickup behavior, "going my way?"Alonso looked a bit surprised. "How do you know my name?" he asked.Jack gave him a lopsided smile he knew the young man would find endearing. "I'm kinda psychic," he answered, purring slightly. Alonso nodded in acknowledgement, the look on his face telling Jack he was definitely interested. Then Jack caught a faint whiff of pheromones from Alonso, Jack noting he liked the scent. "Can you tell what I'm thinking right now?" Alonso asked slyly, looking Jack up and down. "Oh yeah," Jack answered back, giving him the full megawatt smile he'd scored so often with. They smiled at each other.Years later, as Jack was watching the cruise ship Eagle of the Stars dock at the Sto Spaceport after a successful trip to the Medusa Cascade, Jack came to realize The Doctor's gift to him had been more than just easing the pain of departure. Now-Captain Alonso Frame-Harkness had grown and matured, and reminded Jack so much of Ianto's personality it was like he was back on Earth in the Torchwood Hub, waiting for his Welshman to emerge from the archives. As the passengers disembarked, chatting merrily about how lovely their trip had been and maybe they should book the same trip again next year, it occurred to Jack The Doctor had given him the one in the universe who he could find love with again. And he had. It made him love The Doctor even more than he ever had for his generosity. "Jack!" Alonso sighed with contentment as he exited the ship and saw his husband waiting to greet him. "The new grey hair is suiting you."Jack embraced Alonso and gave him a long, slow, deep kiss. "I missed you so much cariad," Jack whispered to him. "That was such a long trip.""Maybe next trip you'll come with me," Alonso replied. "And then you'll have time to teach me that Earth language you don't think I hear you speak sometimes.""Welsh?" Jack asked. Alonso nodded. "I only know a few words, but it's a beautiful language. I just gave you a word. Cariad.""Cariad," Alonso rolled the word around in his mouth a moment. "What does that mean?""Love."Alonso placed his forehead against Jack's affectionately. "Let's go home. Cariad."They walked together, Alonso lovingly resting his head on Jack's shoulder. Deep inside Jack felt a warm glow and heard the faint scratchy grind of TARDIS engines. The night he met Alonso was the last Jack had ever seen of The Doctor, but to Jack that was okay. He was with the one he was meant to be with in the universe. And the day he wasn't something inside told him The Doctor would find him again. With a new face, a new outlook, a different style, but him all the same. The universe told Jack he was still around. And so it was as Jack walked with his husband, feeling that special little glow, there was only one thing he could say to himself. On behalf of Alonso, of Ianto, and of himself. "Diolch*, Doctor."THE END
10184648	The Rocket Grunt	{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": "Multi", "Characters": null, "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by TheRocketGrunt", "chapters": "11/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-08T00:00:00", "words": "12,491", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "The Rocket Grunt", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Pokemon - Fandom, Eevee - Fandom, Grunt - Fandom, Team Rocket - Fandom, Pocket Monsters \| Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Multi-Generation - Fandom", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Name: Artica Mious Nickname: "Spanky" Age: 26-28 Gender: Male Sexuality: "I don’t have time for this..." Occupation: Team Rocket Grunt Hair: Brown and spiky Eye Color: Blue (almost glowing) Skin Color: Natural peach Family: Forced out of his home. Doesn’t speak to his father much anymore. Mother is dead. Type Specialties: Takes power where he can get it. (no specialty; but loves psychic types) Pokemon Team: Eevee (name pending; hasn’t named it yet; gender unknown) About: Forced out of his home. Doesn’t speak to family or friends much anymore. Tried to become an entertainer, but it didn’t work out well. Was a street performer for a while. Being not on good terms with his family, he sought to see the world and make a name for himself. Mom died in an industrial plant explosion. Father fell into depression and started stealing from his son to pay for his drinking habit. He tried to do more street performing, but ultimately a fist fight broke out and Artica was forced to defend himself. Eventually joined Team Rocket as a Member of the organization noticed his fight. Artica accepted due to better opportunities and the promise of power to get through anything and anyone. He took in an Eevee recently because it was the runt of the litter and was hurt. He has a soft spot for people like himself. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Mom- "I'll return home soon..." Stranger - "It was an accident we couldn't contain..." Dad - "If you had never been born..." Mom - "I love you..." Dad - "I hate you for existing..." Artica - "NOOOO!!..." “:...Eevee?...” A lonely Eevee and its Trainer are in a dark lit room. The Trainer seems to be having a nightmare and sweating profusely. The Eevee tries to comfort and licks his eyebrow. A stale breeze enters the room. It’s already hot. The sound of the ocean can be heard in the distance and the birds chirping, greeting the breaking dawn of the sun. The Grunt tosses and turns in his sleep, gasping the word "no" every few breaths, the word growing in severity. "no...nOOoo...n-n-o...No...n..o..." "...Eevee?..." The little Eevee trills in sadness watching the grimace of its Trainers face. The Eevee licks a tear from the Grunts cheek. The Grunt awakes and screams in fear, startling the Eevee into falling off the bed. THUD!! The Eevee panics and runs under a table, knocking over a water bowl. "NO!" The Grunt screams. He looks around. No one there. The panicked squeaks of the Eevee is heard as it tries to hide. After what seems like ages, he manages to gain his composure, his startled Eevee shaking under a table. Squeaking in fear. Artica - "Come'ere little one, it’s ok...I'm not mad at you..." The Eevee starts to walk slowly, still startled. It shakes timidly Artica - "It’s ok, just that damned nightmare again." He struggles to smile, "It's ok, I promise." The Eevee squee's in delight as it sees it's Trainers face smile and jumps into his arms. They share a laugh. Artica stares at the clock; 4:23am. "Ugh, it’s too early for this. Oh well, guess it’s time to start work..." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- 4:48 am. The Grunt is standing outside, the morning sun is starting to appear over the horizon. He sips his cup noodle as the little Eevee laps up water from a leaky faucet from the side of the building. A horn blows, the sound of a ship in the distance. The humidity is starting to rise. Artica - "Ugh why does it have to be so stinking hot already?" He takes a sip from his noodles The Eevee trills questionly; -"Vee?" Artica - "No, I was talking to myself...huh? Are you needing some water little one?" The Eevee trills as it awaits a fresh drink of water. Artica kneels down and starts to open his pack. "Little one," Artica mutters to himself as he pulls out a jug of ice water from his pack and a saucer dish. The only name this Eevee has ever known. A runt of the litter for sure, it had only been a year since their fateful meeting. He had found it laying on the ground, being bullied by some punk kids as they were poking it with a stick. It had been attacked by wild Sparrow and was hurt badly. Artica was walking when he heard the kids talking. Kid One - "...There is no way it will survive." Kid Two - "Best to leave it alone, it's not likely to last, and no good to anyone." Kid Three - "Should we really just leave it?" Artica walked over to see what the fuss was about, and as he looked over the shoulder of the kids, an Eevee. It was lying on the ground. It was short of breath, very small for its size and was scratched and damaged. He got angry, and scorned the kids for being so heartless, nearly beating the kids up. The sighs, squeals, and timid cry of the Eevee sent Artica into a rage. He picked it up as careful as he could, fighting back tears and ran with all his might to the nearest Poke Center that was nearly 2 miles away. Busting through the door screaming for help, he fell to his knees in pain, out of breath and pleading for someone, anyone to save this Pokemon. As several Nurse Joys come running and an Officer Jenny, he blacks out, clutching the dying Eevee, his last words as he goes cold. “...Please..." He collapses. As he is out cold, a song his mother used to hum to him is heard. “...Eevee?...” He wakes up slowly and his eyes try to focus. A little Eevee is standing on him. His eyes quickly widen, as he takes in his surroundings. The Eevee trills questioningly prompting the bedside Chansey to chant in delight. A Nurse Joy walks in. Nurse Joy - "Well, hello there. Our hero of the day has finally awoken from his slumber. Your poor little Eevee was worried sick.” Officer Jenny - "Hmph, judging by the wounds, I'd say he was out there training it too hard. You should be ashamed of yourself." Artica is taken aback and tries to jump out of bed to defend his actions, but is tied to the bed. He struggles. Officer Jenny - "We had to tie you down for our safety. You were going to fight us to care for the Eevee, and I recognize that outfit anywhere. You are part of Team Rocket, and we aren't taking any chances.” Artica struggles to tell both the Nurse and Officer the story...he lets out a tear. “...Eevee?...” Artica snaps out of his memory. His watch beeps. 5am on the dot. He wipes off his tear and a bead of sweat. He regains his composure. Artica - "...Oh, I'm sorry Eevee. I was, uh...making a mental note on all the things I need to buy for our next mission." A horrible lie at best, but the Eevee was thankful to know its buddy was okay. It trills in happiness. Artica - "Come one little one, let’s head out. If we are too late to the meeting, we won’t get our full allowance..." Artica packs up the water dish and refills both his and the Eevee's water bottle from the faucet off the side of the building. Throwing his empty cup noodle and plastic fork away in the trash, they set out towards the docks for his next mission. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- 5:07am. We see both The Grunt and his Eevee walking the trail to the port side of town. Artica - "...I wonder what the mission will be this time. It feels like ages since we received any orders." He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from his breast pocket. He looks over the scribbled lines of text. ~Report to Vermillion City and knock on the door at this address. You will find your new post to be to your liking. We took the liberty of getting you a place to stay and enough food to last til it’s briefing time. The Boss sees something in you. I haven't seen it yet, but it’s Orders. I just do what needs to be done. You are an amazing runner, Ya'know? All that for an Eevee? Hope you know what yer doin' kid. In a month's time, report to the dock at 5:30am. You know who to look for. We are still watching you. Don't abuse what we are able to clean up to keep you safe. In my eyes, you don't deserve the kindness of the Boss, not after the last Mission. We are still paying for the broken glass. Don't be late, or I will make sure you get a bad report and less money.~* Artica - "Tch, I swear, if I didn't depend on and owe Team Rocket my life, I'd knock that punk out. Whoever they are..." He continues to read, flipping the note over. ~Have fun and work on your tan. Think an Eevee can learn Surf? You had your choice of plenty of Pokemon, but choose that runt Eevee. That’s once you've turned down a favor from the Boss. If it was me, I'd of made an example of you then and there, especially after taking time out of my busy life to spring you from that hospital. That was quite an expense for a runt and your life. Not to mention clearing your name. You are soo much trouble. Once again, the Boss has his plans, and I like a paycheck the same as you. Have fun in Vermillion City. #10~* He sighs and places the note in a passing trash can. As the duo keeps walking he passes a sign. ~Vermilion City. The Port of Exquisite Sunsets.~ Artica - "The town prides itself in being clean and free of pollution. It's so damn pretty here. It's a shame we will be leaving so soon, huh? However, duty calls and I'm done being cooped up in that apartment." Eevee trills in agreement, and puts a bit of pep in its step. Artica laughs in amusement. Artica - "Heh, I bet it's nice to finally stretch out. You haven't had much exercise since the last mission. You fell pretty hard and I worried you would never walk again. Good thing there was a Poke Center nearby, huh?" Eevee squee's questioningly. Artica - "Huh? what do you mean the time? Oh hell, 5:23am. We better get the rocks out of our shoes and move." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- 5:27am Artica and his Eevee are sprinting as fast as their legs can carry them. Time is of the essence and they can't afford to miss this meeting. As they run, Eevee trips on its own feet and tumbles a few feet. Artica, without missing a step, slides and rushes back to pick his companion up. He boasts the Eevee into his arms and takes back off again. As fast as he can. Artica - "Don't worry...little one. I gotcha, just like last time. You ain't gonna be left behind." The Eevee pants and squeaks as it tries to catch its breath. Being held in its trainer's arms, the Eevee starts to fall asleep to the gentle pace of The Grunt’s heart as he runs to the meeting spot. The Eevee starts to twitch and trot in its sleep. Artica - "Rest easy, I'll get us there. I'm glad you are a runt, and light. Heh" A runt. In a group of animals, a runt is a member which is smaller or weaker than the others. Due to its small size, a runt in a litter faces obvious disadvantages, including difficulties in competing with its siblings for survival and possible rejection by its mother. However, this poor Eevee lost his mother. Its mother never woke up one night. It dreams of wandering, lost, alone, and trying to find food. It dreams of how it wandered into a field looking for a place to sleep, only to be attacked by Sparrow. It never stood a chance, not really knowing how to protect itself. Trying to cling to life, this little Eevee manages to come to a road, free from danger and terror. It begs passerbys for help, but no one seems to hear it. It wasn't until it was awoken by a poking feeling in its side, that it saw three shadows hovering over it. Unable to fight back, it just lays there, hoping that it would either save it, or end its life. Amongst the three shadows, a bigger one appears and knocks the others over. In a split moment, it is lifted and covered from the harsh sun, and begins to move. “What was going on, what has happened to me, am I finally going to die?” Questions that kept running through its head. It sees the ground moving underneath it and a pounding sound. Is it finally free from its torment? The Eevee looks up to the the flustered face of something...human? The Eevee’s mother told it of these things, what they were and how dangerous they could be. Was it going to harm? Hurt? Kill? The Eevee blacks out. The Eevee awakens to a bright light, surrounded by shadows and noises. Beeps, words, and a song. Where was the Eevee? What is going on? How did it get here? The runt's mind raced as it tried to make sense of it all. It glances around. The human? Where did it go? Did it vanish? Nurse Joy - "Hello there, are you finally awake? You had us worried." Another human? The Eevee tries to escape, but can't under its own power. It squeals and tries to struggle. Nurse Joy - "No no no, it's okay. I'm here to help. Chansey, assistance please!" The Chansey starts to sing, making a song about how it was brought in and was saved by a human in the next room over. It calms the Eevee and the Eevee seems to understand. The Chansey and Eevee seem to talk for a few hours, until the moans in the other room seem to be a cause for concern. The Eevee, now filled with new hope and a curiosity for human interactions leaps off the table to see what's going on. It's the Trainer, screaming in his sleep, as he is being restrained to the bed. The Eevee, without a single thought, jumps on the chest of the Trainer, and gets ready to defend the one that saved it. The Trainer speaks and the Eevee looks back. Artica - "We are almost there, it's almost time..." The Eevee trills questioningly, and snaps out of his sleep, his Trainer's words echoing as he shakes out of the dream. It surveys the area and its own surroundings. Still in its Trainer's arms, still close to him. The Eevee lets out a loud yawn and squeals in delight. Artica - "Huh? You ok? Do you need somethi-" Without hesitation, the Eevee leaps out of The Grunts arms and starts running out in front. Making cheering noises all the way. Artica - "Yeah!! Almost there. I can see the port entrance. Let's get there Little One!!" 5:29am ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- 5:30am Our duo has just arrived at the docks. The Grunt is panting as he tries to dig the water out of his pack. He doubles over backwards and lands on the ground, spilling the water on himself in the process. He lets out a huge sigh. The Eevee, being on guard, surveys the surroundings and trots off a bit to find shade under a bench. Artica - "Good idea, buddy. Let's take a load off. I'll grab ya some water too." The Eevee trills as Artica gets up off the ground, pouring some of his water into a saucer. The calm waves lap at the docks, and the smell of the ocean starts to overcome any smell that may of been in the air. Artica glances around, looking for signs that anyone else is here. The occasional dock worker and city cleaner are seen, but no other visible signs of his supposed contact nor others of the Organization. Artica scoffs as he checks his watch; 5:34am. Artica - "Hmph, all that talk about being here on time, and not a soul around. Come to think of it, I've not seen another Grunt the entire time I was here. Wasn't this supposed to be group operation? Eh, the more I think about it, just pisses me off. ON TIME MY ASS!" His scream echoes out into the sea, lingers a bit, then fades. Artica lets out a huge agitated sigh. The Eevee, who has fallen asleep, isn't phased. Suddenly, the Eevee chirps, stares out into the ocean and jumps from its spot. As it runs towards the docks, it stops at the piers end. It takes up an aggressive stance, and starts to growl at the water. Artica gets off the bench and starts wandering towards Eevee's direction, puzzled at his Eevee's attitude. Artica - "What'cha doing little one? Is something wrong? Why are you acting like this, huh?" As The Grunt stares out into the sea, he sees a small shadow, then nothing. Was it a fish, a cloud? Maybe his eyes were fooling him, but his Eevee seemed to think something was wrong. The Eevee is getting more aggressive now, almost twice its size as it has fuzzed up considerably. Artica still can't seem to find anything. He brushes it off and goes to sit. Artica - "Jeez, did ya dream something bad or what? Hope there was nothing wrong with the water...wait, what's going on?” The ground started to rumble andthe once calm water started to wave up in rapid pace. A low roar is heard off in the distance. Artica runs back to the edge of the pier. His Eevee is making all sorts of angry grunts, noises, and screams. Artica scans the horizon for signs of whatever is going on. The sky? The water? Behind him maybe? No. Off in the distance. One Shadow. Two Shadows... A Third. Now a Fourth? Five! Five shadows appear off in the distance. The fifth one in the middle being the largest, all racing towards the dock where Artica and the Eevee are standing. Unable to make out any details due to the sun in his eyes, he only assumes the worst. Estimating them to be two stories tall, with the middle one being three or more, the figures are racing towards them at a breakneck speed. Then, the five shadows take a leap into the ocean as quickly as they could, without so much as a break in formation or timing. The rumble stops, and the waves start to calm. The roar isn't heard anymore. Calm. Artica - "Wha-wha- What the hell was that? Was that a Pokemon? What even was THAT!?!" The Eevee is still in a state of panic and aggression. Artica's watch beeps. 6:00am. On the dot. Just then, a huge pillar of fire erupts from the sea only yards away from the pier. Then, four pillars of water start shooting up from the ocean towards the sky. It appears as though they are piercing the heavens. A mighty shock wave of heat coupled with what feels like insurmountable pressure is felt. The heat is almost unbearable. Artica tries to shield himself. The pillars of water start to circle the one of fire. The once white puffy clouds and clear sky starts to turn grey, then black. The sky opens up and starts to pour what seems like buckets and sheets of rain. The water cuts through the heat and through the sky. It whips into a frenzy and even starts to hurt the skin. The pressure is unbearable. The rain is cutting at the skin. The waves start to dwarf the pier slap onto the ground near Artica and the Eevee. As soon as it came, the fire pillar stops and the water pillars continue to encircle the spot where it once stood. A mighty roar hits the air. It shakes the Earth and soul. The water pillars move slowly towards the pier. Artica clutches the Eevee. Was this a set up? Was this planned? Did someone want him dead? Artica's thoughts raced as to why this was happening here and now. As the water pillars start to circle faster, a fifth pillar of both water and fire shoot up from the ocean. A deafening roar. Soon, a dark figure shoots up from the the middle of the water pillers. A monster? A Devil? The water is shrouding the gigantic figure. Soon, a bright light emerges from the water cloak. The figure lets out a horrible scream, shattering the shroud that has covered it. A Gyarados! Not just a normal one either. A RED ONE! Atop of it stood a cloaked figure, presumably its Trainer. Artica recognized the writing on the cloak. T.R. Team Rocket. The water pillars have stopped, and four other Gyarados emerge. Normal ones it seems, with other Team Rocket members atop them as well. The pressure is gone, the rain has stopped, and the sky is still grey and a mist is felt. What a display of power. Artica is in awe. The red Gyarados starts to move slowly towards the pier. Artica was shoved to the ground, clutching the Eevee, and trying to shake off the pressure and fear he once felt. He braces for an attack. The Gyarados stops and bows down to let its Trainer off onto the pier. The trainer hops off and approaches Artica. The Eevee still hissing in his arms. Cloaked Figure - "It's been a while Spanky, I see you made it on time. Your report is still looking good as always." A female voice? It’s Number 10. That voice is nothing short of familiar. Artica stands up, brushes himself off and chuckles. Glad to know its someone friendly to say the least. Artica - "Number 10 I presume. You've always had a thing for the dramatics, but this takes the cake. I am in awe as always." The Cloaked figure throws the cloak to the wind. A female figure. Raven hair, dark complexion, and seering green eyes. Artica remembers her from a few reports he read when he first became a Grunt ‘The Ebony Warrior Of The Water’ or, to those who are lucky to know her name, ‘Imani’. She pushes her hair away from her face. Imani - "Oh Artica, you know how to flatter a girl." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The watch was broken, blasted away from the chaos and hail of water and pressure. The time was stopped at 6:37 am Both Artica and Imani are staring each other down. The Eevee is still growling beside Artica's feet. Imani takes notice and takes a step forward toward Artica. The Eevee squeaks and hides behind Artica, growling all the while. Imani's eyes glow as she stares at Artica. Almost as if she has locked onto him as a target. Artica knows what she is doing. Her psychic abilities are told to be limitless. She is has always been a trump card for the Organization. She can read the tide of any battle and know if she can win or lose a battle, both in a test of strength and a Pokemon battle. The rumor being that she is a clone of a secret Pokemon that is being developed. One that could rule the world with immense power and psychic abilities. Her eyes stop glowing and return to normal. Her Gyarados lets out a dull growl. Eevee returns the growl but still hides behind Artica. Imani sighs and starts walking towards Artica. The sky hasn't changed color at all. It's very quiet. Eerie. Is she behind this? One wonders what else she can do. Artica lets his mental guard down knowing he has proven himself. Imani - "Huh, you have gotten stronger Artica. I can see it in your eyes. Far from what I can say about that Eevee you won't part with. Dead weight I say. You could have done so much better if only you had listen to me. You would be right next to me in my personal Task Force." Artica - "Heh, the Fire Typhoon Five. I know it and I would have to agree. I see what you came here with. You offered to train me, arm me to the teeth for anything. You promised me power and to win any fight and I turned you down. Now look at me. There is no way I could win against you. Fist fight or otherwise. I won't even try. I have nothing to compete with that kind of power. Are you here to kill me off or just torment me?" Imani - "Now now, Artica babe. If anything happens to you, I lose my rank, my paycheck, and more importantly, my place in Team Rocket. It took a lot of time and effort to gain these experimental Gyarados and I won't lose them just because you did something stupid and got killed. Weather it be by my hand or otherwise. Artica - "Team Rocket loves its experiments. I can see why. That was quite the display. You had me fooled. I felt helpless and unsure of my future. Coupled with the sheer force of the rain and atmosphere, which I assume was your doing, there is no one to stand in your way.” Imani blushes at the compliment. She gets a bit giddy as she sits next to Artica on the bench. The accomplished smile and a glow on her face. She has always loved validation. Imani - "Oh Spanky, you keep this up and I may swoon. You know, the offer is still on the table. The training, the power, the chance to fulfill that empty place that was created when your mother died? I can still give you all of that. Forget the Boss, forget Team Rocket, and forget the handouts from what you know is a doomed Organization, and join me." Her hand slides onto his chest and pushes him down onto the bench slowly. He finds himself pinned between the bench and her. Imani climbs on top of him, straddles him and runs her fingers through his damp, brown hair. Her eyes start to glow. She touches his face with her hand and starts inching closer. Her face and his are close enough to breath each other's air. Almost close to kiss. Imani - "I can make you strong, powerful, and able to conquer all. I would make you a king in the new land that we could create. Your strength and my psychic powers. We could shape anything we wish.” Artica - "...anything...we...wish...?" Imani - "That's right. Think about it. No war, no useless experiments, no more having to fight to survive. It could only be us.” Artica "...only...us...?" Imani nods. Her signature trick. ‘Of Heart And Mind’. One hand on the heart, the other on the face to hold the eyes still. If she can't win using fear or strength, she is still a woman on all accounts. Imani’s beauty is that of a goddess. Clone or not. With her looks and psychic charm, she can make any man fall to their knees. Many have fallen to her and her blade. Among with being an avid Trainer, Imani has been taught to be an expert killer. The perfect assassin. Enter the mind, and the rest will follow. Word has it that she almost bested the Boss, but failed. Imani - "What do you say, Artica? Be my king?" She bends in to kiss him, but ultimately is stopped by Artica himself. Her eyes stop glowing as his start glowing a bright blue. She is taken aback by this and gasps. How did her charm not work? She is promptly thrown off of him with one single move as he leaps up from the bench. Imani lands awkwardly on her feet and turns around, Artica standing across from her. His eyes glow with a bright blue and a golden center. What happened to the one she almost had under her control? His psychic aura is one she had never seen before. Her Gyarados lets out a warning growl. Artica turns to face it. Imani puts her hand up to hush the beast. The Gyarados seems to nod in acceptance of its Master's wishes. Imani - "So, this is what the Boss meant. Now I know why I was warned beforehand to not push my luck. In the process of me trying to take over you, you absorbed some of my power. I now know what the Boss sees in you." Artica - "Indeed. You also now know how dangerous I can be..." Imani - "Hmm, a deeper voice. Very sexy. It's like you know me..." In a split second, a bolt of lightning hits the ground. Both Imani and Artica are locked in a flurry of punches, all connecting to fists and never past them. The sound of locking punches is heard all around. Both of them, eyes blazing color, punches and kicks flying with no signs of backing down. Another bolt hits the ground and they jump away from each other. Artica's eyes return to normal. Suddenly, a psychic blast. Both Artica and Imani are unphased. Artica's face is cut open and he falls to his knees. Imani goes down on one knee and begins to pant. The sky is starting to break as the sun tries to push the grey clouds away. It seems her abilities have reached their limit. Imani - "Damn, it seems my time is almost done. Good news is, you passed. The bad news is, I have to write the report saying you did. The Boss was worried you would turn. He worried you were going to be a worthless investment. I was sent here to test that, and these new Gyarados. Both were a success. I guess I better hand you your allowance and next task.” She signals one of her teammates to throw something. The figure does, and she catches it with ease. Quite the package it seems. Bigger than what Artica was used to. This was the size of a small briefcase. It had Artica's name on it. It had been custom tailored for him. It even had a small pocket with an Eevee face on it. What the hell was this? Imani - "Well, I guess I will congratulate you on your promotion since the others aren't here to see this. Here." Artica takes the bag from her and opens it with caution. Inside it is a Tablet, wallet, cell phone, and a small pocket book with a pen. It also contains some experimental Ultra Balls, a Cash Card, Rare Candies, and some instructions. Artica is taken aback and has no words. He stares at everything for a moment and regains his thoughts. Artica - "What is all this, and now that you mention it, where are all the others? Wasn't this supposed to be a joint operation?” Imani - "All you need to know is in that Tablet and the instructions. Handwritten by the Boss himself. Betcha’ you frame it and sell it on the market. It would fetch you quite the mint. All I can tell you is that you are now part of a Black Label project called ‘The Ghost Project’ You receive orders from the Boss himself and a few offers from his contacts. Myself included, but don't worry. I'll find you if I really want to. Other than that, it should all be there in the orders and Tablet. I've also been instructed to give you a new pack to store everything. If I know you, that Cash Card will fill up your current pack quickly. Best to give you something you won't fill up quickly." Artica - "...and the others? You never answered me." Imani sighs Imani - "Dead." Artica - "Dead?" Imani nods Imani - "They didn't pass the test..." She smiles devilishly Imani - "At the very least, they died with a smile on their face, and fond memories for the afterlife." Artica - " Guess that makes me the lucky one, huh?" Imani - "Or unlucky depending on who you talk to. But, seeing as how they are dead, I guess you will never know." The wink and sing songy tone in her words sends a sigh of disbelief into Artica. She really is a killer. He stares at her. Imani - "Oh Artica, don't look at me that way. I'm just doing my job. Besides, you passed. You get their share and more. I took the liberty of programming your phone with contacts that should help you out in your travels and a few that the Boss recommended you should have. Feel free to contact them at any time day or night. Make sure you keep it charged, and don't lose it. That is going to be your lifeline from here on out. You lose it, and your life is forfeit. Of course, I could find you and save you if I wanted to, but the other can't help out if the GPS isn't near or on you....ugh." Imani doubles over, the sky is starting to break more. Rays of sunlight hit the town and pier. Imani - "Tch, I've been here too long. I won't make it at this rate, I need to recharge. You have everything you need Artica. You now only answer to me and the Boss. Don't make either of us regret giving you this rank. If I find out you aren't performing to standards, I'll kill you myself. I'll be watching you." Imani leaps into the air and onto her Red Gyarados and motions the rest of her Task Force to move out. They start to file out, one after the other as they leap into the air and dive underwater. Imani looks back at Artica, waves and shouts to him. Imani - "I don't need to tell you this, but there is a lot riding on you now. You are going to uncover a lot about the world and some things will not be what you want to know. Just know that you can call me if you need support. I've always been hard on you, but after today, I can treat you like a comrade instead of another field Grunt. Take care of yourself. Oh! By the way, your Eevee did good today. Despite is all, it stood by you. That takes guts, or a level of insanity. I'll let you decide. Next time I hope to see it stronger too. And give it a name for crying out loud. It's been over a year.” Imani and the Gyarados both fly into the air and dive underwater. Without a trace, the water is calm and the sky starts to return to normal. Gone. Nothing. As if it never happened. Artica sighs and takes the contents of both his old pack and the briefcase and starts packing it into the custom bag. So much space. It fits everything, with pockets and storage for plenty of extra things. Food, water, supplies, and enough to start a small campsite. A custom case for the Pokeballs, Pocket storage for the cell phone, a compartment for the Tablet. VIP treatment if there ever was one. Artica - "Damn, despite the brute force, and distasteful ethics it sometimes has, whoever came up with this needs a raise. I've fit everything I've ever own, and then some. Well, I better read up on what I've gotten’ promoted to. First up, I'll read the letter from the Boss himself. Ahem." ~Dear Artica Mious, If you are reading this, I can only think it safe to say that you have passed the test. Congratulations are in order. However, I am a busy man, and you are about to be even more so from now on. Welcome to my new Black Label Project. No doubt Imani has told you who and what it’s about, so I won't waste my time explaining. Inside that pack are enough things to get you started on your new Journey. That tablet has Two Missions for you to start with. However, once you start one Mission, you cannot proceed with the other. Whatever you don't choose, I'll get someone else to do it. Indeed you are alone in this Project, don't misunderstand. However, I will be fair and make sure you are well covered, compensated, and prepared for this. Your phone has been loaded with contacts to help you, consisting of Transport, Emergency Medical, and a Direct Line to me. Imani should have also given you other contacts as well. Do not waste too much time. Once you Complete a mission, you are to send a direct report, via Tablet, to me. This way, You will be payed. I've also included a Notebook/Phonebook in order for you to keep track of anything and everything you feel is important. You are free to use your judgement in whatever capacity you have. You answer to know one but Me and Imani. If you are ever in a jam, feel free to call either of us. Just don't waste my time. Also included is a Inventory List of everything in the pack you received including Ten Experimental Ultra Balls. These are products of my own design, provided to catch just about anything. If you find powerful Pokemon or anything Rare, catch it, and you will be awarded financial compensation as well. The tablet has the ability to beam any contents of these Poke Balls to me directly. Once you run out, call for a replacement. The Science Division will be more than happy to get you more, for a price. "Spend Money to Make Money" as the saying goes.~ Artica scoffs Artica - "He sure is high on himself. I guess I would be too if I owned an Organization. What else is here? Oh! A second page. Go figure." ~* The last little bit that I think you will find helpful is your new allowance that gets sent to you each week, instead of each month like a Grunt. I've included my own monetary investment along with company funds to insure you have plenty of supplies and a break from lackluster accommodations. The VIP treatment as its called. Surely you can handle 200,000 Poke Dollars responsibly? Your pay of 2,500 Poke Dollars a week should help as well if you get into a bind. I can also loan you some as well, but that will only be a one time deal, and I will want that money returned with interest. Just so you know the scope of this investment, if you do anything out of character, get involved in too many financial troubles, rely on my power to help you too many times, or flat out disrespect any orders, it will be grounds for termination. I have no quarry of hunting you down to the ends of the Earth or finding ways to make you suffer. You better believe that I am hoping on a good return for my investment from you. Don't Disappoint. I await to see how you perform. Don't worry, I'll know if a report you turn in is false. I have more ears than you could ever know, and eyes that see in places you could never think of. Once again, Congratulations. I look forward to seeing your progress. #Giovanni#~ ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Artica sighs heavily. The weight has begun to sink in as he lays back on the bench to watch the clouds give way to the sun and a cool ocean breeze. The Eevee sighs and lets out a mournful trill as it watches its Trainer's emotions go cold. All of this happened in a year's time, and now, the world seemed complicated all over again. First, Artica's mom, then his drunk of a father. Joining up with entertainment gig after gig, only to join the most feared Organization the world knows and then becoming the one and only Leader of a Black Label Project. What was he to do? The Tablet starts to beep, reminding him that it was time to get to work. At the same time, his new phone was buzzing as well with new contacts and app updates. He goes over the Inventory list one last time and pulls the only thing he hasn't checked out, The Wallet. Inside, he finds an ID with his name. Everything on it looks normal, but it has a small chip on the inside. Hard to see, but if you know what to look for, it doesn't go unnoticed. Artica wonders what that could be. Inside it is also his Cash Card, and what appears to be extra cash. Inside is a notecard stuffed inside with the money. On the notecard is just a name and a poorly drawn smiley face. #Imari# Artica - "Damn, must be that money from the ones who didn't make it. A killer and a thief. No shame in anything. However, it's a nice cushion so I won't have to ask for a loan. Let’s see. Looks like it adds up to an extra 5,000 Poke dollars. That’s two weeks worth of pay already? Sheesh." The tablet beeps again. Artica -"Alright alright, hold your Pollywag's already. Jeez. This is already a pain in the ass." The tablet boots up and greets Artica with text congratulating him on a job well done. It scans the environment, surroundings, and his face and then proceeds to tell him to wait. Connecting... Artica - "The hell? You want me to wait after you kept beeping at me to turn you on in the first place?” Tablet - "Hello? Can you hear me? Am I coming in clear?" Artica - "Oh great, a talking tablet. Next thing you'll tell me is that the backpack sings." Tablet - "Sadly, it doesn't. We had to skip that as part of our testing phase as it only wanted to sing in different Pokemon chants. This also meant that when it sang the Jigglypuff sleep song, well...you get the idea.” Artica - "Still, the idea of me talking to a Tablet is a bit odd as well. Please tell me there is a human behind this?” Tablet - "Apologies, but no. I am a rooted AI construct that mimics human interactions and helps you along the way. I can scan Pokemon, update mission parameters, tell weather, and transfer pokemon that you catch. I also can translate a variety of Pokemon Language and in turn, help you communicate with nearly every Pokemon in the entire world. I hope to prove very useful to you in the future.” Artica - "Sounds great, now how do I turn this off?” Tablet - "I can't let you do that Artica Mious>>>ERROR. Once I have been activated I cannot be shut down. This way, I can report all progress to Home Base. I record mission data, how far we walked, where we are, and even can record vocal interactions between us. That way, if I detect that you are unwell, or unable to function, I can call for help and know the signs of distress based on vocal patterns and speech." Artica - " So even if I wanted to leave out of this, there is no way to escape my duties now. Ugh. Well, since I'm stuck with you, is there a way to get you to sound less...I dunno...robotic? I remember watching some movie where robots killed everything via some Space-Trap. Some T virus thing? Either way, it creeped me the hell out, and I am not a fan of robots.” Tablet - "I'm sorry if my voice offends you, however, I do not have enough data on human speech to know how to change this. The Mr. Brightside of this, with proper time to adjust, frequent conversation, and regular updates, I should be able to fit a speech pattern for you, based on suggestions and answers to questions that I give you as we get to know each other.” Artica - "Jeez, I already have a hard time making friends with normal people. Become friends with a computer? Add that to my list of things I never thought I would do." Tablet - "Adding to list..." Artica - "NO! I didn't mean a real list." Tablet - "Deleting entry." Artica - "Dammit all to hell...this is going to be a long day." The Eevee trills questioningly at Artica. Tablet - "The time is now 8:45am. Plenty of time for breakfast.” Artica - "I knew what my Eevee said. However, it's nice to know the time. It seems that my watch was broken during my little scuffle with Imari-" Tablet - "Are you injured? Do you require aide? Shall I call for Emergency Personnel?” Artica - "NO! To ALL of those! Just stop listening or mute for five minutes. You're giving me a damn headache!" The tablet goes quiet and displays a timer of five minutes. Artica scoffs at the tablet. Artica - "Hmph, smart-ass. UGH!" ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Our duo has reached the site of the old apartment complex where they stayed for the month in Vermillion City. Exhausted from his battle, The Grunt decided to take a long soak in a bath. His thoughts, crammed and ever changing about the events of today. The battle, the promotion, the new gear, and the huge undertaking he was about to face. All of it echoing in his head. Artica - "Damn, Why did the fight with Imani take so much outta me? Was I not prepared like I thought I was? Why did she have to test me? Why can't I just rove myself on my own terms? Not to mention, why did I get to lucky for this promotion? Ugh!" The Eevee is asleep, curled up on The Grunt’s bed. Its ears twitch as the wind blows in from the open window, the smell of the ocean fills the room along with the scent of the bath water and soap from the bathroom. The Grunt lets out a heavy sigh and leans back further in the water, submerging his head and face. His thoughts continue to dwell on the events of the past few hours. Artica - "Imani - she was pretty adamant about me joining her. Was that part of the test or was she being real with me? Is that the kind of mission she has? To weed out the weak? Mission. Dammit, I have to get started sooner or later or I might see Imani again, and this time it won't be a friendly chat." The Eevee wakes up, stares at the room for a moment, only to jump up and hiss at the Tablet. The Tablet scans the room and starts to beep. The screen turns on. Text flashes, acknowledging that the Tablet has updated and has a connection Tablet - "Yeah, breaker one-nine this here's the Rubber Duck. You got a copy on me Pig Pen, c'mon?" The Eevee lets out a startled screech and proceeds to launch itself into the bathroom, jumping into the bath where Artica is still submerged. The Eevee lands on The Grunts face and Artica lets out a scream under water. Artica splashes and tries to fight for air, as he finally makes sense of where he is. He breaks the surface panting and gasping for air. Artica - "EEVEE! What the hell? What are you trying to do, drown me? Why did you go and do that for?" Tablet - "Oh, I'm incredibly sorry, Master Artica. I seemed to of scared the Eevee in my attempt to contact you." Artica still gasping for air, lets the water out of the bath, and gets out of the tub. He grabs a towel, and proceeds to dry off the soaked Eevee. Artica then proceeds to wipe up the water he spilled out of the tub. He places another towel around him and walks out into the room where his bed and the Tablet set. He goes to his pack and starts digging for clothes. Artica - "Hmph, damn Tablet almost got me killed. What's the big idea anyways? Did you mean to cause such a ruckus?" Tablet - "On the contrary, I only meant to see if you were still alive. Judging by GPS and the time we have spent here, I had worried that you were in danger or dead. We have been sitting here for a while, and I must remind you that you still have yet to pick a mission or move in any direction. I may also remind you that, while you may take some time for yourself and complete missions at your leisure, you are still being graded on performance and how long you take. Luckily, The Boss has yet to place a timer on your activities, or a late note on your current file and progress." Artica - "Great, I'm being watched no matter what I do. If I take too long, I'll be marked for death. Or worse..." Tablet - "Given your profile history, are you not fan of being watched? Your evaluation states that you are a performer. With that to your credit, surely it must not be that much of a problem?" Artica - "THAT WAS A LONG TIME AGO! It would be different if I could see the people I was entertaining, but now, it's all shadows, watchdogs, and a Tablet that thinks it knows EVERYTHING!" The Eevee chirps. Artica- "No Eevee, I didn't mean you. Last I checked, you were an adorable fluff ball, not a dog." The Eevee squeals in delight. Tablet - "If I may interject, that Pokemon is an Eevee; A normal type Pokem-" Artica - "I KNOW what my Eevee is, DAMMIT!" The room falls silent. Artica paces around a bit and sits on the bed. He stares at the ceiling and lets out a sigh. Artica - "Tablet, what is the current time?" Tablet - "The time is currently 9:17am." The wind blows in from the window, the sound of seagulls and waves. The room is silent. Tablet - "Master Artica, if I may-" Artica - "Stop calling me Master. It’s Artica. No use in using that word as I don't own anyone. Hell, can't even own up to my own mistakes half the time.” Tablet - "My apologies. It's part of my programming to use formalities. If it pleases you, I will only refer to you as Artica from now on." Artica - "Thanks" Tablet - "...which brings me back to my question, you only refer to me as ‘TABLET’ and have not assigned me a name. Is this the name you wish to refer me to?" Artica - "Huh? Isn't that what you are?" Tablet - "Outwards appearance would suggest so, but if I may be so bold, as your partner in all this, I would like to have a name of my own. I have a mission status as well, and that requires me to learn all I can about this world and those that I travel with. Thus, if I am to learn and become the best I can be for your needs, I would like to have some sort of connection to you. You wished for me to change and not be ‘ROBOTIC’. I believe that if I have a human name, followed by guidance as to what you need from me as a partner, I will be able to change to suit your needs." Artica - "Wow, that was pretty profound for a Tablet. Tell me, what was your name prior to meeting me?" Tablet - "I am >>>>The Pokedex Model - Oculta HM 005<<<< Programming by >>>>>Professor Weir<<<<< the father of my creation." Artica - "Professor Weir? How do I know that name?" Tablet - ">>>>>Scan Complete. Professor Weir, or Doctor Weir, as he is known by some, was the first to create the Hypothesis that there could be more to Pokemon than what is currently understood. He theorized that certain types of Pokemon could reach levels far beyond that of normal Evolutions. Mega Evolution was first discovered by the first meeting of humanity and Rayquaza. A dual-type Dragon/Flying Legendary Pokémon. Professor Sycamore later theorizes that Mega Evolution can only be achieved if there is a strong bond between a Trainer and its Pokémon. However, the facility Weir was stationed at was slated for decommission. Due to going over budget and not returning results, he was later forced to retire. Not much later, the facility was reopened under new ownership of Dr. Fuji, and financial backing from >>>>UNKNOWN<<<. 4 years later, the facility suffered an explosion at one of its research bays, which plunged the entire facility into critical overload. The facility and its staff were lost. Total casualty count was >>>>UNKNOWN<<<<." Artica began to shook and cry. The explosion that he just heard about... was that the same one that took his mother's life? Artica -"Tell me, was this Facility stationed at Cinnabar Island?" Tablet -"Affirmative. Would you like more info on Cinnabar Island?" By this point, Artica could no longer hold back the tears. The Grunt curled up in a ball, unable to control his emotions. He remained in this state for several minutes. Tablet - "Artica, are you ok? Do you require medical aid?" Artica - "No, I-I'm fine, just give me some time." Tablet - "Shall I set an alarm?" Artica continues to sob ignoring the questions asked by the tablet. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Some time has passed. Artica wakes up. He surveys the area. He is in a different room. An air of familiarity. The smell of water, grass, and the woods. Artica gets out of bed. The fall to the ground seemed a bit greater. He looks down and feels shorter. He spies the mirror in the corner and runs to it. It’s him, but younger. A child in the reflection. Was it real? A dream? He hears noises from outside. He rushes to the window. Opening the window, he nearly falls out. It appears he is at the second story. As he looks around, the breeze catches his nose. The unmistaken smell of the trees. Viridian City. The City of Evergreen. He was home. His true home. Questions still remain. Was it all a dream? How long had he been out? As he tries to make sense of it, he notices another smell. The hint of vanilla and tobacco. His father's pipe. The feeling of uneasiness takes over. He takes small steps towards the cracked door. As he peers through, he sees the opening to his parents room. Strange. This is home, but why does everything seem, natural but distant? He proceeds through the door, and makes a left to the staircase. Only way to go, was down. Artica feels compelled to see what is down stairs, as if something is moving him to go. He feels his actions are his own, but not. Was he scared? Confused? A sense of wonderment perhaps? It was hard to tell what feelings were present, but he couldn't stop thinking. His feet start to move. He jerks a bit. Who pushed him, and why was walking such an unnatural feeling? Could he have slept funny? No time to figure it out.. He was anxious to see what was down stairs. As he creeped down, Artica saw it. The wisps of smoke that only his father's pipe could produce. It had to be. The hair that appeared from the couch was the same. Same as it ever was. However, Artica felt calm, safe, wanted. Why couldn't he remember anything else? Wasn't there other feelings there before? Anger? Rage? Hatred? No. Just a sense of being at home. Everything was perfect. Calm. The silence is broken by a husky voice. The same voice he had always remembered. Taiga Mious - "Hmm? Did you decide to wake up? That will teach you to mess with a Jigglypuff won't it?" Artica - "F-f-father?" Taiga - "Was quite the mess you put me in, ya know? It was hard to explain to your mother what happened. You ought to try to apologize to her and explain the mess you got into. I will expect it." Artica - "Y-yes Sir." Taiga - "You better stop that stammering and answer me proper, boy!" Artica - "Yes SIR!" Taiga - "That's better. I'll make a man out of you yet." It was him. The man Artica knew as his dad. Just the voice, as Artica couldn't move from the spot he was in. Something held him in place. Fear? Sadness? Remorse? Why couldn't he remember anything else? All his memories and even his dream seemed hard to grasp. He wanted to move to see his dad's face, but was still held in place, like something had him pinned. Taiga - "Speaking of your mother, she should've been home by now. It's not like her to stay at work this late. Maybe it's a breakthrough. Her phone call was pretty vague..." As Artica listens to his father ramble on, he tries to regain control of his body. Nothing wants to move. He is able to look around and sees the living room where he spent most of his time playing. There was the small corner where he would play with his Pokemon figurines. The toys were neatly put away and arranged by type. His father always kept the house organized and tidy. Must have been because of who he hung around with. Above the bookcase where his father stood was a picture. It was of Artica, his father and mother, and the famous trainer, Lt. Surge. Artica always wanted to be like him. Lt. Surge was the one who even gave Artica his nickname. ‘Spiky’. However, due to Artica having a speech impediment, Artica could never say it properly, and it always came out ‘Spanky’. Amused by this, Lt. Surge would always ask how ‘Spanky’ was doing any time he was around. As Artica stared at the picture, he could hardly see the faces of his parents. It was blurry and certain features were hard to make out. The more he tried to stare, the worse it got and his head started to hurt. As soon as Artica was about to make sense of everything, a knock at the door takes him by surprise and he breaks free of whatever pulled him in place. He runs to the couch and hides, watching his father open the door. Two men in white coats appear behind the once closed door. The same coats that Artica's mom wore to work everyday. One of the men is holding a folder, and the other man is holding a rather large box with writing. Artica could barely make it out. He squints harder. He reads it aloud. Artica - "Y...u...k...i...M...i...o...u...s..." Yuki Mious...Artica's mom's name. Strangely, neither of these men were her. Why were they here? What’s going on? They speak. Man 1 - "Is this the home of one, Yuki Mious?” Taiga - "Yes?" Man 2 - "Are you her husband, Taiga Mious?" Taiga - "I am. Mind telling me what the hell it is you are doing here?" The first man hands Taiga a folder. Taiga flips it open. After a brief moment, Taiga takes a step back. The folder drops to the floor. He places his hand over his face. "Artica - "Daddy? W-what's w-wrong? Huh?" A picture with his mother's face skates across the floor and lands at Artica's feet. A stamp with the word ‘Deceased’ is across it. Taiga, who is filled with both sorrow and rage tries to talk to the men. Taiga - "How? How did this happen? How did she...ya know...go?" Man 2 - "There was an explosion at the Cinnabar Research Facility. She and many others were involved.” Man 1 - "...It was an accident we couldn't contain..." Taiga - "Like HELL you couldn't. You knew DAMN well that project was nothing but trouble. You were the ones that went and got her killed. I oughta beat the..." Man 2 - "Pretty sure you don't want to do this in front of your son. Besides, it wouldn't help your cause. Both of you knew what you were in for when you both signed the contract. Here is her belongings. There is another envelope in there with all the paperwork you will need and financial compensation for your loss. You should find it more than satisfactory. Afterall, it was her knowledge that got us this far. The Company is truly sorry for your loss..." Taiga - "Sorry...SORRY?!? Only sorry ones here are gonna be you if you don't get the HELL outta here right this minute!" Man 1 - "We understand. We will take our leave. You have much to do and much to explain and prepare for. Have a good night." The men turn and walk away. Artica's dad slams the door and falls to his knees crying. Artica starts to cry for his dad, not knowing why. As Artica tries to run to his dad, he feels as if being pulled to the ground. He looks down, and the floor gives way. He starts falling through the pit that has opened up. Artica tries to scream and nothing comes out. He starts to lose his ability to see, and things start going black. With one final breath he lets out a scream, only to be greeted with echos of beeping noises and the sound of something or someone calling his name. "A...r..t...i...c...a?" "Art....i..CA?" "ArTiCA?" "ARTICA!" Artica snaps out of it and wakes up again. He falls off the bed, and lands on the ground. Drenched in sweat, he scurries around to make sense of everything. Panting, and unable to make sense of where he is, he smashes his head into the bedside dresser table. He screams out in pain, and looks up. A table. He looks behind him, a bathroom. Beside him, a bed. Where was he? As he breathes in the air, he smells salt, warm air, and a hint of bath soap. Was he still dreaming? Tablet - "Artica? Are you ok? Your heart rate and body functions are erratic. Do you need first aid?" Artica is still winded and trying to grasp at everything that just happened. He grabs the pillow and holds it tight. Artica - "Where? Where the hell am I?" Tablet - "GPS Location Confirmed. We are currently in Vermillion City. Population, 31, including ourselves. Temperature is holding steady at 87 degrees Fahrenheit and 30.5 degrees Celsius. Wind is coming out of the south at 8MPH and 12.8KPH. Current time will be 9:42am at the sound of the beep...BEEP!" Artica - "W-was...was I dreaming?" Tablet - "Affirmative. However, your heart rate spiked and I made several attempts to wake you, but to no avail. I tried everything at my disposal. My ability to be loud however is limited. I suggest an upgrade in my near future to help out should this be a problem again." Artica stands up and looks around. He can move, jump, see faces and look around at will. It must be the real world. Tablet - "Do you feel ok, Artica?" Artica - "I'm fine. It seems it was a dream after all. More like a nightmare. It felt so damn real though." Tablet- "To my knowledge, most people feel that dreams are ways of their minds coping with past events. It’s really hard to describe the process of the human mind to create dreams and where dreams come from. This will be a study everlasting. Based on my programming, I may never live to see the day where dreams are truly explained." As Artica listens to the explanation, his stomach starts to growl. Artica - "Well, the human mind is one of mystery. However, it's safe to say that what's not a mystery is my damn stomach. I'm hungry, it's still morning, and I am getting tired of noodles. Let's go find us some food and get packed for our missions, shall we, Eevee?" The Eevee trills, and makes a charge straight for the door. Artica puts on his clothes for the day and packs up the remaining items on the bed. Tablet - "Speaking of MISSION you have yet to pick one to start. Might I suggest we speak of this matter soon?" Artica - "Can we speak about it after we get food and geared up? I don't want the food ruined by the thought of work and the fact that as soon as I leave this room, I'm no longer in control of my life anymore." Tablet - "If I may interject, you are allowed to pursue the missions at your pace as you are in charge on how they get done, but I must warn you that the mission..." Artica - "HEY! You keep this up and your new name is going to be Pita!" Tablet - "What kind of name is that if I may ask?" Artica - "I will use it as an acronym for Pain In The Ass!!" The Tablet stutters as it tries to make sense of the name and runs it through various searches. Tablet - >>>>Pita<<<<[P.I.T.A]>>>>>Pain_In_The_Ass<<<<<ERROR.exe>>>>> Artica laughs at the Tablets confusion. Artica - "Nice, got one over on the all-knowing machine." The Tablet makes a mechanical coughing noise and scoffs. Tablet - "I will have you know, after many searches, that what you have decided to name me isn't very nice." Artica - "Lucky you that it's not official yet. However, it will be if you ruin my breakfast. So how about you mute it for a bit, until I ask for you again, alright?" The Tablet displays a message and what appears to be a rude remark after muting. Artica - "...You wanna run that one by me again you pile of..." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- 9:57 am. Breakfast time once more before heading out into the unknown. Artica sits at a table alone, with his Eevee laying on the ground with a finished bowl of food and resting before the grand adventure they are about to take. Artica has the Tablet on the table, looking over the mission details as he eats, his eyes grow wide as he notices all the various missions available. Different names, class limits, and special types are all arranged. As he browses the list, an email alert chimes on the tablet. It just says his name with a letter logo blinking on it. Artica looks around and weighs in on if he should open it. He does. The tablet displays a message that it's scanning and connecting to a remote source. Many numbers, letters, and symbols appear. Artica waits and he orders another green tea. As he waits on the tablet, the Eevee trills in its sleep. Artica reaches down and pets the Eevee's tummy. The Eevee trills a bit louder at its Trainers touch. Artica laughs a bit. Artica - " Well little one, I should probably name you soon. I am sure we will meet other trainers along the way that will want to test their skills. I always fancy an introduction. However, I will have to try not to be as dramatic as those two clods I met with that watched my performance. What were their names again? Ah, forget it...huh?" The tablet powers down and restarts. A shrouded face appears on the screen and the letters GV* flash on the screen. GV - "Greetings Artica. It has been a while since I have seen you. You have grown stronger, I see it in your eyes." Artica thinks for a moment. Didn't Imani say the same thing when they fought at the docks? GV - "I presume you have found everything I sent to your liking. Oh, and lest I forget. From this point on, please refer to me as GV. I don't want others to know who you are talking to." Artica - "Heh, there are only a select few of us that know that voice, even underneath that dark shroud. Fine. I'll play along. Shall I call you Mister GV? or just GV?” GV laughs in a very sinister but humble way. GV - "Oh please, Artica. There is no need to be so formal. We are on the same page, you and I. However, the place you hold is very substantial. Hell, if anything, I should be more formal towards you." Artica - "You honor me, GV. I am to assume this isn't a social call?" GV - " Oh come now, whats a bit of banter between friends after all. I hope we are friends Mr. Mious?" Artica - "You haven't given me a reason for us not to be, except that watch dog of yours..." GV - "Really, Mr. Mious, you know that I have fronted quite a bit of funding into this project that you are now a part of. I have every right to make sure my investment was well placed and not squandered. You understand?” Artica glares a bit but seems to understand. Artica - " Fine, but why place a call here? Don't I have a phone now?" GV - " Good question, however I think you are smart enough to know that answer. If not, I will give you the short answer. This call is being placed by a very secure means that I have invented myself. No one could ever trace or track this call in their entire lifetime. Phones, on the other hand, are simple nowadays. Anyone can hack or trace a call from a phone. Besides, even if someone other than you tries to use the Tablet, it will just explode. The phone itself also has a kill switch that can be remotely toggled as well. I figured, given your penchant for the dramatics, this call would of been more your style.” Artica - "Tch, you know me too well. Fine. If I may ask, what does this call concern?" GV -" Another good question. My, you are full of good questions. However, before we begin, I need to make sure it's really you. I am sending some info to the tablet now. Do me a favor and stare at the screen and tell me the first word you see..." Artica does as he is instructed. The screen starts to flash violently. Before long he is transported into a dark room. Two shafts of light beam down in the center of the room. He looks around and sees nothing else. UNKNOWN VOICE - +Please, make your way into one of the shafts of light+ Artica tries to walk, but seems to stumble a bit. Half the time he feels like he is floating, other times, his steps are very heavy. It feels that his feet are weighted with stones. Artica - "What is this plac- OW!?!" His voice booms and echoes almost to deafening levels. He collapses as the noise his voice made almost knocks him out. At the other end, a figure stands in the other light shaft. As the figure touches down, it doesn't look human at all. Its standing on two legs, a long tail, pointed ears and silver in color with purple accents on its stomach. What is it? Artica - "What are yo- AHHH!" The room is filled with his voice again, echoing and pounding. It takes his breath away and knocks him back onto the floor. UNKNOWN VOICE - +You must speak softer here. Do not use your voice but your mind. Speak to me with your thoughts+ Artica - "My though- SHIT!" His voice continues to boom and echo. The figure stands there with growing concern and aggravation. UNKNOWN VOICE - +If you continue to keep this up, we will have nothing further to discuss and you will die here. Please. use your thoughts+ Artica tries to stand and takes note of everything that he has been told. His own voice seems to cause him pain. Just think his words? Stranger things have happened this day. May as well try. Artica - +Did- did I do it?+ UNKNOWN VOICE - +Yes. You Did. Congratulations Little One+ Artica - +Little One? That's what I call my Eevee. Now I know how that feels.+ UNKNOWN VOICE - +Our time is limited here. I trapped you in your mind so that we may speak. Your first assignment is to go to Lavender Town. There you must ascend the tower. There is someone who wishes to speak to you. Once there, you will gain your next assignment. This is all I can tell you+ Artica - +Wait a minute, trapped me in my mind? Lavender Town? I don't understand. What happened to GV?+ UNKNOWN VOICE - +That is all I can tell you for now. We will speak again once you complete your task+ The shaft of light that the figure was standing in disappears. Then, the one Artica was in goes dark. The whole room is dark. Artica tries to speak but no words come out. He tries to use his voice but nothing is heard. He then feels pressure on his shoulder, as if something was trying to move him. He blinks and suddenly he is back in the restaurant. A Fisherman is shaking him. Fisherman - "Hey buddy? You ok? I gotta close up here and get the lunch shift started. If ya’ done eating I'd like fer’ ya’ to move on out so I can get cleaned up. Don't forget yer’ tab." Artica looks around. He is back in the diner. The tablet is at the home screen. The Eevee is still asleep. The Fisherman has started to clean the table where Artica was eating. Artica shakes his head. Fisherman - "You feeling alright? You turned as pale as Dewgong skin when I came out here to check on ya’. The food good?" Artica - "Y-yes sir. It's fine. I just got caught up in a story I was reading." Fisherman - "Good to know people yer’ age still read. I tell ya’. It's the only other hobby I got when I am out to sea." The Fisherman smiles as he extends his hand to help Artica out of the booth. Artica stands and he doesn't feel heavy. Fisherman - "Yup, I cook a fine meal don't I? Won't leave ya’ feeling weighed down, and ya’ won't go hungry for a bit." Artica - "Yea, I feel great. Where do I go to pay?" Fisherman - "Oh, my Mr. Mime will take care of ya’ folks. Just pay him and I'll get the door for ya’." Artica walks over to the Mr. Mime and pays for his meal. As the Mime slides his card, the words MEWTWO* flash over the total, then the dollar value of $13.13 appears. Mewtwo? What did that mean? The Mime smiles and hands Artica the card. Artica smiles and waves as he exits the building. Fisherman - "Come back again when you're hungry. I'll be here and open in a couple of hours for our lunch menu." Artica knew he meant well, but once out of the building, he knew he wasn't coming back. He had his supplies, his food stock, and everything he thought he needed. Time to make his way to Lavender Town. 10:30 am *Artica - "Ok, we have our task, and now it's time to leave. Tablet, do you know a fast way to Lavender town?" The tablet boots up and shows a GPS route.
10112027	Toothpaste	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Fox Mulder, Dana Scully", "Fandom": "The X-Files", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by leiascully", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-02-05T00:00:00", "words": "582", "Additional Tags": "Domestic Fluff", "Relationship": "Fox Mulder/Dana Scully", "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 }	A long overdue prize for @ohyayaseance, who guessed the best in the @xfficchallenges Anon Challenge!Of all the things he imagined doing with Dana Scully, buying toothpaste wasn’t one of them.“Do you have sensitive teeth, Mulder?” she asks, weighing two boxes in her hands. They’re both sparkly, promising the freshest breath and the whitest teeth. He couldn’t tell you the difference between them, except that one says ZEST in a swirly font and the other says AQUAFROST.“Not really,” he tells her. “Hmm,” she says. “How are your gums?”“Scully, you’re my doctor,” he says. “Shouldn’t you already know this?”She fixes him with a gaze chillier than the promised flavor of the toothpaste (EXTREME WINTERMINT). “You do know that doctors and dentists have completely different specialties and training.” It isn’t a question.“Sure,” he says. “I just thought you’d know.”Her lips curve into a smile. “My familiarity with your mouth doesn’t come from your medical files,” she says, raising one eyebrow.“And I’m grateful for that every day,” he says. “What about this one?” She shifts the two boxes to one hand and takes the one he gives her. “Mulder, this one’s baking soda.”He shrugs. “I like the way it foams.”“It tastes terrible,” she says, handing it back to him. He puts it on the shelf with the others. “How do you feel about mouthwash strips?”He licks his teeth reflexively. “No. They stick to my gums.”She puts a box down, but picks up another one. “Whitening?”He shrugs. “I’m not waiting for my close-up.”“We drink a lot of coffee,” she says. “Might as well.”“Might as well for all of it,” he says. “Whitening. Freshening. Sensitivity. Enamel building. Can toothpaste really do that?”Now it’s Scully’s turn to shrug. She turns the box over. “These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration,” she reads.“There you have it,” Mulder says. He reaches for a bottle of mouthwash. “Let’s get the blue one and this blue mouthwash.”“What does that one do?” she asks.“I don’t know,” he says. “It’s blue. I figured the flavors would match.”She smiles at him with warm and genuine exasperation. “Mulder.”“Scully, I’m just happy to be brushing my teeth next to you,” he says. “I’d even use that natural stuff that doesn’t have fluoride or chemicals if that’s what you want.”She snorts. “Chemicals are in everything, Mulder. You can’t make that kind of broad statement and say something doesn’t have chemicals.”“You know what I mean,” he says. “I do,” she says, softening. “Blue is a flavor?”“Definitely,” he says. He counts off on his fingers. “Popsicles, mouthwash, toothpaste, and hard candy.”“The FDA hasn’t evaluated that either, I’m guessing,” she deadpans.“It’s a known fact,” he tells her. “I’m not saying mouthwash and popsicles are the same flavor, but blue is definitely a flavor.”“All right,” she says, and tosses one of the toothpastes into the cart. “What’s next?”“Toilet paper,” he says. “How many factors are involved in your toilet paper selection process?”“You have no idea,” she says. “Ply thickness, roll size, paper softness, paper strength, flushability - that’s going to matter if we’re in a place someday that isn’t on the city sewer system. And toilet paper is nothing compared to pads and tampons. I’m going to have to send you with a detailed checklist when you go on a tampon run.”“I can’t wait,” he says, and means it.
10106438	There and Then Gone	{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Gordon Tracy, The Mechanic - Character, Virgil Tracy, Scott Tracy, John Tracy, Alan Tracy, Brains - Character, Grandma Tracy, Tanusha \"Kayo\" Kyrano, Colonel Casey, Penelope Creighton-Ward, Aloysius Parker", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Anonymous", "chapters": "1/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-05T00:00:00", "words": "943", "Additional Tags": "Deep Ocean Surveyor, Thunderbird 4, Thunderbird 2 - Freeform, Kidnapping, TV-21, s02e06 Up from the Depths Part 1", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "Anonymous", "Fandoms": "Thunderbirds, thunderbirds are go", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	"Hull integrity at 28%. Gordon, what are you doing?" Virgil asked, sounding frantic."The airlock's jammed. I can't get the door open!" Gordon replied. He was trying to keep his cool, but having his ship collapse in on itself around him was downright terrifying. Plus, the Mechanic was doing it while not even being there. That in itself was pretty unsettling."Well make a new door! But do it fast, you don't have long." That's not helping Virgil. Gordon thought. He knew the situation was bad, his brother didn't need to confirm it.Gordon's eyes landed upon a switch on his arm. He pressed it, and it buzzed to life, a glowing blue... something sliding out from its sheath."Nice," He said to himself and leant down to the floor. His new toy sliced through the metal. Thunderbird 4 kept shaking, the pressure from the Surveyor's arms overwhelming the sub."Hull at 7%. Gordon, get out now!" Virgil exclaimed through the comms. His panicked attitude wasn't helping Gordon's concentration.The blonde finished cutting a circle in his ship and shoved it. It gave way immediately, sinking fast. Gordon kicked his legs and shot out through the hole it left, his flippers helping him push through the water.Of course, the hull chose that exact moment to give way, resulting in a considerably large implosion. The force hit Gordon in the back, super speeding him into the rock.The impact shook him, and his vision lost focus for a few moments. His body was slumped on the seafloor. He had a clear view of the Surveyor's grip on his 'Bird.He touched his IR insignia, making an audio link to Tracy Island. "I-I'm here. I'm okay, but Thunderbird 4 is a little...uh, beat up," There was no other way to describe it. He heard someone muttering 'Oh boy,' and several sighs of relief.As he watched, the Mechanic appeared to switch tactics and started tugging Thunderbird 4 in two directions. Due to the hull having collapsed, it took a very short amount of time for it to split, the separation causing an explosion. The Surveyor's arms dropped the two halves like they were nothing.Gordon stared for an instant. He was very attached to his submarine, and seeing it in such a state broke his heart. The sadness quickly turned to anger, spurring him into action.The arms now targeted him. He swam through the water, one crashing into the place where he'd been standing. Another shot past behind him, getting his pulse racing. He slid out his blue laser as he moved, heading towards the Deep Ocean Surveyor.He stopped to avoid an arm in front of him, another taking him by surprise, slamming into him and sending him, once again, onto the stony floor.He landed hard on his side. His shoulder started to throb. Great, now he had an injury to add to his list of problems. Despite that, he dragged himself to his feet, the water assisting his movement somewhat.The view wasn't much better that the ground.The Deep Ocean Surveyor had moved over to the TV-21. Grapples shot out from the underside, clamping onto the ship on all areas."International Rescue, the Surveyor's going for the TV-21," He sounded breathless, even to himself. "It's stealing dad's ship!""Of course!" He heard Brains exclaim. "Finding the TV-21 wasn't a coincidence!" Gordon heard him explain what the Mechanic was up to, but he wasn't really paying much attention.He tuned back into the conversation when he heard his name mentioned. "Gordon, if you can cut the part I've highlighted, you'll stop that ship in its tracks,""FAB," He said, and once again swam for the reddish-orange ship, albeit more stealthily.he glanced about quickly, locating the panel Brains had specified. He sliced it off but was then distracted by the sight of his father's plane. Glowing red tubes came out from all sides. He wasn't sure what they were doing, but it couldn't be good.The sight had him so transfixed, he didn't notice the robotic arm until it was practically on top of him. As it was, all he could do was cover his face to protect himself as it took hold of him.All at once he couldn't see anything but metal. He could feel movement, but he wasn't sure in which direction. It was just impossible to get his bearings. And then suddenly he wasn't in the water anymore. Gordon was roughly dropped inside the Mechanic's ship, somewhere in the cargo bay.He stood up hastily, noticing his radio was damaged. There were a few piles of boxes around him, with some company's logo embalmed on the front. The rest was empty.Apart from a snake mecha. That was important. Fortunately, it appeared to be inactive. Still, Gordon decided to keep an eye on it.On closer inspection, the logo on the boxes was the same as the one on the Deep Ocean Surveyor. They were, however, seemingly empty, or at least the ones he checked were. He really didn't see the point in checking all of them. He had more important things to do, namely getting out. The entrance he presumed he'd entered from was sealed tight, the door pushed right against the metal.Gordon could see another door, but it lead deeper into the ship. That wasn't preferable, but he couldn't just sit here. He wasn't an expert with doors, not by along shot, but he'd had lessons like the rest of his brothers. It was a shame he wasn't paying more attention, or he might have noticed the snake powering up behind him...
10137908	Drabbles with Vocab	{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Dobby (Harry Potter), Dudley Dursley, Albus Dumbledore, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Rubeus Hagrid, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Lucius Malfoy, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Molly Weasley, Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, Petunia Evans Dursley, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Severus Snape, Sirius Black, Nymphadora Tonks, Vernon Dursley, Arthur Weasley, Blaise Zabini, Cho Chang, Voldemort", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by Nydia Stix [archived by HPFandom_archivist]", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2011-05-01T00:00:00", "words": "1,701", "Additional Tags": "Slash, Out of Character, Sexual Content, Drama, Humor, Parody, Romance", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "HPFandom", "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 }	Okay, I’m studying for the AP English Exams… so, to help me with the vocabulary, I’ve decided to make drabbles with them! Yay. This is more for me than anyone else. Warning: Couples, mostly gay but a few straight ones in there too. Mostly Snape but other character focus in there too. Mentions of some dirty things in different drabbles and odd couples… Severus was extremely venomous, like a rattlesnake is venomous, sitting not so innocently, coiled up in a venomous world in which venomous creatures roamed. Harry was the complete opposite of this venomous person. He was pure, the way a dove was pure as it flew through the air, a figurative olive branch in its beak, on a beautiful, pure night. (repetition: a fundamental form of rhetorical stress that calls the reader’s attention to a particular word, phrase, or image for emphasis of meaning.) His eyes were inky black that sucked in its victims for him to confuse, befuddle and play with as he so chose. Albus had always admired those eyes. His skin was a sickly pale that did not seem natural or very possible even though his tall, willowy body stood before the shocked Headmaster. He was shocked that the boy had become so old in such a short amount of time and that he was seeking refuge. (Predicate adjective: an adjective that follows a linking verb and modifies the subject of the sentence) “I love you.” Remus’ mouth fell open and his heart swelled. Severus had not said that he ‘liked’ him nor did the man have affection for him. No, Severus loved him. He used the word love and that meant that Severus would stay with him forever, never abandoning him and never betraying him. “I love you too… now let’s fornicate.” Severus allowed a smirk to grace his features. When Remus used the word fornicate, that meant that they were going to have a long, long session of pleasure. They weren’t going to fuck when the line between pleasure and pain blurred nor were they going to make love in which sweet words were whispered and roses were strewn. No, they were going to fornicate. (Diction: the use of one word instead of another—it’s very essential to an essay) “His heart, glass, and sanity can be easily broken but not so easily mended so you had better be careful with my son,” Eileen Prince growled from her portrait at a startled Ronald Weasley. The redhead boy smiled brightly at the stern looking woman. “I would never hurt him,” he promised seriously. He turned around to see Severus standing there with a slight smirk on his face. But, instead of looking at Ron, he was gazing at his mother. “Our love, stars, and stupid people in the world is immortal and strong,” Severus said to her. Eileen smiled the same smile that Severus’ smile. It was small and lit their entire faces and Ron found himself falling back in love with Severus. (Aphorism: a brief statement of an opinion or elemental truth.) “Quidditch is a useless sport that is full of nothing but idiots on brooms, hitting balls,” Severus snapped at his Quidditch playing husband. Harry glared back at him with green, venomous eyes. “Like potions, people find solace and happiness in their profession,” he growled. Severus stopped glaring and smirked instead. “It took you long enough to counter me,” he stated, whirling on his heel and going into his bedroom where he would await his lover to realize that his lover was out of the room and most likely tired to the bed. (Antithesis: an observation or claim that is in opposition to your claim or an author’s claim) “You are a useless idiot. You could explode a potion just by glancing at it—actually I believe that I have seen you do it,” Severus mused, unaware of his lover’s hurt expression, “I found that I hate the way you behave sometimes. You are so bloody innocent and kind that it rots my teeth with your large chocolate eyes and trembling body when you are frightened. You brush your hair until I am sixty percent sure that you will shortly be balding.” Neville was sitting up by now, his back to his lover. He wouldn’t allow the man to see the tears that were sliding down his face nor the slight tremor that he fought to not show. He couldn’t believe that after he had poured his heart out and used every ounce of his courage to confess that he loved this man that he would have his heart broken, stepped and spit on and then handed back to him. The young man gave a slight jump as thin arms wrapped around him from behind and pulled him to a soft chest. “However, I find that I love your little quirk. Watching you care for your plants is one of them. I love the way you eat a whole strawberry, with the stem… and the face you made when I took your virginity… while being on bottom.” The tears on Neville’s face disappeared and were replaced with a deep blush that covered nearly his whole body, “And I do love your blush… I love everything about you. Even the things that I hate about you.” (Rhetorical Shift: occurs when the author of an essay significantly alters his or her diction, syntax, or both) Harry quit. He was sick and tired of being sick and tired. He didn’t care if Voldemort himself came into the room and began to kill everyone. He had given up too much. First his parents, then his freedom and happiness, now his Godfather and the only link to his parents was dead too. “Harry, you cannot just quit. There are lives at stake so you are going to go back upstairs with your friends while the adults think of a plan to keep you all safe,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. Harry sighed and shook his head. His emerald eyes gazed at the old man with such sadness that it should have been illegal in one so young.“No, I am not. Goodbye Headmaster,” Harry turned around and began to leave.“Mr. Potter. If you take one step out of that door, be prepared to give up your wand!” McGonagall threatened. Harry smiled slightly at her and pulled the stick from his pocket. He caressed it once more before snapping it in half and throwing it to the ground. “Have it,” he chirped. Then he picked up his bag filled with cloths and muggle money and left. It only took a few hours and soon he was stepping from a train and on a large span of grassy land. A few minutes of looking around, he finally spotted a lone man dressed in a long trench coat that fluttered in the non-existing wind. “Hello, love,” Severus said, stopping the younger male from falling to his knees. (Imperative Sentence: a command i.e. what Dumbledore said) “There are only two options in a situation like this,” Fred started, staring down at the item at hand. “Yes… pain and pleasure blurred by duo cocks…” George said. “Or pleasure on both ends… for us,” both twins finished with a pair of evil smiles that forced Severus to wonder if being tied up as a Christmas gift for a pair of Weasley twins was worse than being in Voldemort’s presence. (False Dilemma: also known as an either/or fallacy. False Dilemma is the suggestion made in the argument that the problem or debate only has two solutions) “I hate you because you exist…” Sirius stated in a voice that suggested that he was surprise that Snape had even thought of the question. Severus sputtered and took a step back, shocked that he had gotten such… such an idiotic response. “What the fuck does that mean!? That… that pathetic excuse of an argument does not count. Other than that pile of horse shit you just tried to feed me, what else do you not like about me?” Severus hissed, trying to get to the root of the problem. He was tired of always having to look over his shoulder and around corners. He just wanted to know what he did to warrant such harsh treatment then he could go about his life and know that it was his fault for being bullied and outnumbered everyday. He wouldn’t change for them but he wanted his curiosity quenched. “Well… other than you existing… nothing else bothers me,” Sirius shrugged with an easy smile. Severus growled and pulled his wand out. The other boy didn’t get a change to whimper before Severus began to throw hex after hex after jinx at him. When Sirius laid on the ground, twitching, he whirled on his heel and left. (Fallacy: failure of logic. A spot where the argument doesn’t convince.) Lord Neville stood defiant before the man that tried to take their liberty and life. He would not just sit by and allow that monster to destroy his home and life and the lives of other innocents! He whirled to his colleagues, the people that he had shared a school and home with for six years now. The people that now watched as their instructors fought hundreds of men and women that did not fight fair. “My classmates, hear me now. We will not allow these monsters to attack us. We will not allow them to take away our freedom, they will not take away our lives. We will not allow them to kill innocent people. We will not allow them to pillage and rape our land. We shall defend our land. We shall defend our people. We shall defend our FREEDOM!” He shouted, jumping into the battle. He landed next to his least favorite Professor who was furiously fighting six different people. “It took you long enough!” Severus shouted over his spells. Neville smile shyly and blasted a Death Eater away. (Parallel Syntax: a pattern that creates a beat. I’m not so sure that I did it correctly though) ** The End of part one Okay, I don't own Harry Potter and this is actually helping me.
10163780	May it please your	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Sylvanas Windrunner, A Death Knight Reader, some unimportant Apothecaries not relevant to the plot", "Fandom": "World of Warcraft", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by DemonOfPuns", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-07T00:00:00", "words": "4,121", "Additional Tags": "wait what plot, probably quite PWP this one, Smut, Fluff and Smut, My First Smut", "Relationship": "Sylvanas Windrunner/Reader", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "In death, we are reborn", "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 room is cold, as it is usually the case down in this city. But she can't feel it anyway, not that it bothers her. She is to engrossed in reading the reports of the troops located in various sites, Gilneas, the Plaguelands, the Hillsbrad Foothills. Sighing, the Banshee Queen finishes reading a letter from Dark Ranger Alina that just arrived from the Arathi Highlands, asking for some reinforcements. Albeit she is displeased with her Elite not managing to get some control with the troops she already has, she writes an order for a small unit to help there. As she put the letter down and wants to take the next document from the stack on her desk, a knock on the door interrupts her. “Enter.”, she orders, and an Apothecary steps through the doorway. “What is it?”, she asks, a bit annoyed by the intrusion, yet interested as well. “Y- your majesty... the Royal Apothecary Society found a new substance that may be able to help with the Plague. One of the -” - “I will personally take a look at it.” She rises from her chair and walks through the room, her shoes making a loud, authoritative noise on the stone floor. The Apothecary stumbles out of her way as she strides past him, and hurries behind her as fast as he can. Arriving in the Apothecarium, she comes to a stop atop the small flight of stairs and looks down on the developers of her most feared weapon. “What is it you discovered?”, she demands. “My queen, what an honour to have you here.” The Master Apothecary bows. “We're not that sure yet, I'm afraid. The substance may be able to help stabilising the plague, or something else. But we are certain that we may use it in some way that may be-” - “Could it be...”, the queen's voice is low and dangerous, and fear overtakes the features of the Alchemist, “...that you sent someone to my office...” Sylvanas goes down the staircase slowly, deliberately, aware she strikes even more fear into his soul, “...to give me news about something...” She is standing right in front of him now, and he practically shakes in fear, “...from which you DO NOT EVEN KNOW WHAT IT IS?!” she ends her sentence, rage flaring up in her eyes as she takes the collar of the Master Apothecary and lifts him with one hand. “My day today wasn't very pleasant. I recommend you to think twice before wasting my time in the future.” - “Y-y-yes your majesty... I-I-it will never happen again, I swear!” She lets go of him and he falls down into a heap on the ground, shaking. The Dark Lady turns on her heel and strides out, but, unfortunately, a female Junior Apothecary crosses her way in the wrong moment, being pushed down by her, the vial she was holding shattering on the armour of the queen, some vapour rising up. Sylvanas takes a deep breath to calm down and stares at the unfortunate undead so intensely that the Forsaken averts her own eyes, ashamed of pretty much everything. “What was that?” - “N-nothing d-dangerous, my Lady... they didn't tell me... I-I'm so sorry...” Sylvanas makes a displeased, but also disinterested noise. “I suggest you clear up this mess.”, she states shortly and heads back to her quarters without further words. In the moment the doors close behind her, she sighs. “Incompetent fools...”, she mutters, rubbing her forehead before shaking her head and taking a seat in her chair again. Just as she reaches for the document she's been wanting to work on earlier, she senses an unfamiliar sensation coursing through her body. Starting as a slight tingle in her lips, it spreads through her entire body. She chooses to ignore it and works on her papers again, signing here and there, reading reports from different places, and muttering about the stupidity of some of her commanders. But this strange feeling remains, gets stronger in intensity, developing to a heat running through her body. Suddenly, she recognises it. Could it be the Apothecaries are working on an aphrodisiac? Because it feels just as if. A curse escapes her lips. Now that she knows what is happening, it's only worse. “Damn them...”, she mutters, not sure of what to do. She did touch herself some times when there was still living blood in her veins, but now? She can't concentrate like that, but even so, it is beyond the dignity of a queen to do that. She could just ignore it as well, but that proves to be almost impossible. Her mind wanders to times when she was alive, enjoying the touch of a lover, and lets her hand wander... just as it knocks on the door. “What. IS. IT?”, she snaps. “Your majesty, a messenger sent from Andorhal wishes to talk to you. It is urgent.” She growls and wants to deny any entrance, but the door swings open anyway. In the doorway stands a blood elf Death Knight, whose blue eyes lock with hers immediately. There is beauty in them, as well as in the female's features and her armoured body... blinking once, Sylvanas pushes every thought of that and further aside. She would not let her mind and body succumb to any chemical substance those fools have developed. Sighing, she gestures for the female to come closer. The guard in front of her door closes it behind the elf, who moves through the room with an elegant grace despite her armour and comes to a stop in front of her desk. “Your majesty.” Her voice, resonating with the sound of death, is quite pleasant for the Banshee Queen's ear, and another part of her mind wanders again to how it may sound... Sylvanas could yell in frustration now, but chooses to blink once and ask: “Why are you here? I thought the commander I sent there was more capable of securing Andorhal against the Alliance forces than Koltira was.” - “He tried to write some letters in the cause as some more came, but scouts have killed the messengers. He decided to send me instead, since he knows I can defend myself. The commander is asking for some skilled rogues to kill the scouts I've mentioned earlier. Their actions make our supply convoys having a hard time, I'm afraid.” - “How, Death Knight, can some scouts alone harden the time of our convoys?” The blood elf chuckles. “Not they alone, but what they do. They tell their troops, the troops attack. That's what I meant, my lady.” The queen growls impatiently, not only because the message makes her question the capability of the commander in Andorhal, but also because she's got a hard time keeping her thoughts at bay. The Death Knight raises her voice again. “Honestly, I would've done it another way than to bother you, my queen, but he wouldn't let me speak... Kim'jael.” she mutters beneath her breath, calling the commander a little rat, something that amused Sylvanas. “What is it you would've done, then?” - “I would have sent a big convoy towards the Undercity, hidden the load which should have consisted of the plague, obviously. Some soldiers would've guarded it. The scouts would've seen, called the troops, since it's a big convoy, they'd need lots of them. And while those come from Andorhal and try taking on the convoy – which we'll blow up, obviously – the Elite and some others would've stormed the Alliance base. Risky, but I guess it would have been worth a try.” The Banshee Queen raises an eyebrow, seemingly impressed by the intelligence of her guest. “An interesting idea, Death Knight. Maybe I should put you in command there instead of that idiot.” The female raises a gloved hand and rubs the back of her head. “I'm afraid my skills in that field aren't as great as they are in battle. I would have a hard time having to stand more in the back giving orders than fighting for my queen in the front line.” A slight smile appears on her face. “I mean, I did order some ghouls around when I was still in the Lich King's grasp, but that's a task almost everyone could do. They're dull.” Sylvanas chuckles. This Death Knight became more and more appealing... she had to do something. The Dark Lady rises from her chair and takes a map of the region around Andorhal before heading around the table and placing it in front of the Death Knight, whose eyes never leave her while doing so, a fact that sends pleasant shivers down her spine due to the chemical in her body. “Do you know where the scouts are positioned?” The blood elf nods. “Some of them.” She points to a spot on the leather. “Around 5, well, now there are 2 left of them, have their hide in that region. In stumbled into their group on my way here. They tried to attack me, but...” She shrugs and motions a slit throat on her own pale neck, and Sylvanas can barely restrain herself from licking her lips or, worse, throwing the blood elf on her desk and having her way, though such thoughts seem to become more appealing with every passing moment. Composing herself, the Banshee Queen tries to push them away. The smaller blood elf furrows her brows curiously. “Is something bothering you, my queen?” Sylvanas' head snaps up and she locks eyes with the Death Knight, who has tilted her head to one side, a slightly worried expression in those blue eyes. “My queen?”, she asks again, a gentle undertone in the voice painted with death. Sylvanas swallows once, want running in her veins, and advances a step forward, while the blood elf moves a step back respectfully. But that was indeed not the queen's intention. Her hand shoots forward and grabs the Death Knight's throat, whose eyes widen in shock, yet remain curious as she has no need for a breath the queen may take with that action. In one fluid motion, the Dark Lady yanks the messenger towards her, tilts her head and wraps her into a kiss that satisfies a little bit of the heat inside of her, yet longs for more. A surprised gasp escapes the Death Knight's lips, nevertheless she wraps her arms around her queen's waist and pulls her closer, kissing back with a passion not expected from an undead body. Sylvanas gives a content sigh to this and lets go of the blood elf's throat to put the same hand to the back of her head, tangling in hair and keeping her close, while her other hand wanders to the small of the Death Knight's back to secure their bodies being pressed together. The undead elf's arms let go of the Dark Lady's waist so that their owner can lay one hand on her queen's cheek and wrap the other arm around her neck. The kiss grows in passion as the queen of the undead decides to use her tongue to draw it over the Death Knight's lips while using the hand on her back to search for places to open the female's armour. Chuckling, the blood elf opens her mouth to slide her tongue over the Banshee Queen's in exchange, while loosening her hold on Sylvanas to help her open the plates on her body. Within a few seconds, her chest plate comes off and falls to the ground, leaving the undead in her chest bindings, her muscular midriff being shown as it had been in life. Sylvanas steps back and breaks the kiss to give a appreciating glance at her new-found casual lover, who, in exchange, doesn't say a word but instead asks for permission to undress her queen with her eyes only, a thing she denies by shaking her head. She would take the elf first and see if that helped with the effect of the aphrodisiac, and then maybe allow the Death Knight to touch her. The Dark Lady motioned to the elf's remaining armour. “Take it off.”, she simply orders and leans against the wooden table to watch her lover methodically take her gloves, then her boots and leg armour off to bow her head after it, only her chest and loins still covered. Sylvanas takes the elf's chin and forces it up before she lets go and walks around her, looking at the female standing proudly in the middle of her office. She stops right behind her and pulls the dead body against her armoured one at the waist, using her free hand to rip off the chest bindings before yanking down her underwear, leaving a naked Death Knight leaning against her queen, who tilts her head to the side to give the Dark Lady access to the neck she had been admiring before. With a slight grin on her face, Sylvanas leans down to press a kiss there, making her lover sigh in a mix of want and pleasure, before the Banshee Queen takes her armoured gloves off, not wanting them to get dirty and allowing her hands to move more precisely. The Death Knight tilts her head up to press a kiss on her queen's jaw, while Sylvanas' hands wrap around her midriff, her fingernails scraping patterns on the elf's abdomen, eliciting another sigh from her lips. Suddenly, both of her hands go up to the elf's breasts, scraping away some skin in their way and gripping them firmly, causing the first low moan to escape and her lover leaning even more on her for support. A dark chuckle leaves Sylvanas' lips as she starts scraping over the Death Knight's chest, eventually rubbing her thumbs across the already hardened nubs, making the woman in her arms press against them and moaning again. “Shhhh...”, Sylvanas whispers, and her lover nods in response, eyes closed and still trying to get her hands apply more pressure. Instead of fulfilling the elf's wish, the Dark Lady moves one hand to the girls throat to turn her head even more to the side, while the other one starts wandering down on her body to the spot she desires being touched the most, scraping in her agonisingly slow way. The Death Knight whimpers. “Please... my queen...”, are the only words she manages to say before Sylvanas leans down suddenly and bites in the soft flesh of her throat while that one hand scrapes down and finds the bud within her folds, applying a pressure that is enough yet not, and a guttural, throaty moan escapes her lover's lips. The Dark Lady chuckles on the flesh between her teeth, well aware they will leave a trace despite the woman's undeath, and also that the guard in front of her door will have heard that. The hand placed on the elf's throat leaves it's spot to wrap around her waist, pulling her against Sylvanas' body once more, while her other hand relentlessly strokes the soft flesh between the Death Knight's legs, drawing moans and an occasional whimper to leave her throat. “I beg you...”, the elf pleads softly, and with another chuckle, Sylvanas leaves her throat to press a kiss on her lips, mercifully inserting a finger into her lover while keeping her thumb attached to her clit, making her sigh in response and move her hips to give her queen a better access. After moving around a bit, Sylvanas finds the spot that makes the elf whimper with every touch, and alternates between rubbing it and prodding her finger inside of her lover while placing soft kisses on her neck, slowly clouding the elf's mind even more with bliss and her own with want, yet it isn't enough. The Death Knight's arms reach up to wrap around her queen's neck and turn their heads for a long and passionate kiss interrupted by gasps and responding chuckles. With a playful bite to her lover's lower lip, Sylvanas pulls back completely, making the woman almost fall to the floor and whimpering in loss, only gradually being able to stand. The Dark Lady has to admit to herself she's impressed that the female manages to keep upright in this state, her eyes clouded and the wetness between her legs glistening. “Sit on the desk.”, Sylvanas orders, and the woman obeys, shakily walking over to the wooden furniture and even being aware to move the map aside not to stain it, and then sits atop and locking eyes with her queen, pleading without words to continue. The Dark Lady decides to finally undress and does so in an excruciatingly slow pace, yet still making the elf gasp softly with every piece of skin she can see. As she is finished, the Death Knight on her desk smiles. “You're beautiful.” Without being fully aware, Sylvanas smiles shortly and then walks over to her lover, pulling her head up in a kiss and pressing their bodies against each other, feeling her own arousal coursing through her as she went back to touching her lover where she wanted it the most, inserting three fingers this time, causing a surprised gasp to escape and the Death Knight's arms wrapping around her back, clawing into her shoulder blades as she started her quick pace again. “By the sun... I... Sylvanas, please...”, these words leave the Banshee Queen chuckle again and become more passionate in her actions, sensing her lover was close. The Death Knight tightens her hold on her as she starts rubbing her clit again, her nails gently scratching down her back, low gasps and whimpers leaving her throat as all of her muscles slowly tense. Sylvanas sinks her head and whispers “Come for me, little one.”, before biting her neck again, the other side this time, and bringing her lover over the edge. The guttural moan that leaves the elf's mouth hitches halfway in her throat and only her eyes fly open as waves of pleasure crush through her. Sylvanas smiles softly, yet her own arousal remains as she withdraws he fingers and licks them off, pleased by her lover's taste. Holding onto her queen, the Death Knight sighs as she comes down from her high, pressing a kiss to her queen's cheek before hopping off the table and spinning around so that Sylvanas' back was facing it. “Shall I return the favour, my queen?”, the undead whispers huskily, and the Dark Lady nods shortly, making her lover grin and step closer to hoist her up on the desk before kneeling down and pressing a kiss to her inner thigh and looking in her eyes sheepishly while gently nibbling at the skin there, moving closer to Sylvanas core. Just before reaching it, she averts her gaze and skips her center to go all the way back on her other leg. Frustrated, the Banshee Queen growls and shoves her hand into the woman's hair to force her gaze upwards and into her blazing eyes. With cheekiness in her orbs, the Death Knight grins and as soon as her queen lets go, she lays her arms on Sylvanas' thighs and moves forward, locking her lips around the bud in her core and pressing her tongue against it. Even though the queen tries to keep it down, her lover's ears sense the low moan escaping those lips and hums into her queen, making her hands tangle in her lover's hair again and keeping her in place. After a few experimental licks over the Dark Lady's core, the elf starts grinding her tongue against it, making Sylvanas' legs cross over her shoulders and pull her closer, securing she increases the pressure on her clit while moaning gently. Chuckling, the Death Knight takes one of her hands down from her queen's thighs to stroke at her folds before teasing her entrance and, as she hears a frustrated growl from above, shoving it inside, stroking her inner walls while still sucking and licking on her bud. Sylvanas lets a moan escape her lips and curses softly in Thalassian as the aphrodisiac she took increases every sensation she gets to feel, the Death Knight's pleasuring touches beginning to pull her to the edge. Her lover smiles into her core and adds a second and third finger in the process, purring as her queen gasps in pleasure. Suddenly, the elf presses all three fingers hardly against Sylvanas' G-spot while biting on her clit, making the Banshee Queen wail in surprise and then growl as she reaches her peak, all of her muscles tensing and clawing into her lover's scalp. With long, gentle laps of her tongue the Death Knight tries to calm the overstimulated flesh, and, with a final kiss, lets go and stands up after the queen's legs have loosened from her shoulders. Sylvanas, enjoying the aftershocks with closed eyes, hums in satisfaction as the aphrodisiac finally wears off, leaving her pleased and in a fairly good mood. When she opens her eyes again, she sees her casual lover cleaning off her fingers with her tongue, a gentle smile on her features. She locks her blue eyes with Sylvanas' crimson orbs and lowers her head shortly. “I hope to have served well, my queen.” - “You have. Now get dressed.” - “You... kind of destroyed my chest bindings.” The Banshee Queen raises an eyebrow, and the Death Knight turns her head to the side and lowers her gaze, allowing Slyvanas to see the bruises she left on her neck. “Not that I'd mind, it was worth it...”, she mumbles, and Sylvanas chuckles. Awful good mood. Sighing, the elf puts her underwear, leg plates and boots back on before examining the damage on her bindings. They seem completely useless, from what Sylvanas can see. “Take mine.”, she states simply. Her lover turns towards her. “What an honour.”, she replies, a little ironically, putting them on and adjusting them to her own size. “Thank you.” - “Take it as a reward for a job well done.” The Banshee Queen winks once, and the elf chuckles and dresses the rest of the way before collecting Sylvanas' armour from the ground and bringing it over. “May I help you get dressed, my queen?” She nods. Why not? It would be way faster. After the Death Knight has covered her queen's lower half, she chuckles. “How will you-”, she gestures to her chest area. “Just put my plate on, that should be enough. Anyone knows it isn't too intelligent to lewdly stare at me.” Her lover smiles and does as ordered. Closing her eyes, Sylvanas hears a low mumble. “What was that?”, she almost snaps and opens one eye to look at the Death Knight, who averts her gaze, certain to have been blushing if she was alive. “I just said... I would have far more enjoyed the other way.” The queen laughs softly, and albeit it does sound a bit creepy, the elf smiles. “Maybe next time, little one.” - “Next time? You mean-” - “I did enjoy how you used your skills. Maybe I'll reward you when you hand Andorhal to me.” - “Excuse me?” - “I'm quite interested in how your strategy may work. And as that incompetent fool didn't show any signs of victory, I'm advancing you to commander over there. Let's see how you'll do.” - “I never expected this honour. Thank you, my queen.” The last fastening of Sylvanas' armour falls in place and the Death Knight kneels in front of her and chuckles. “What is so funny?”, the Banshee Queen observes. “I'm just amused by the fact you're making someone commander while never asking for my name.” She blinks surprised. “Well, tell me then.” - “____ ______. May it please your majesty.” - “______... I do know that name from a few times I heard it. Weren't you the one who helped me bring down Koltira from his post back then?” - “I'm somehow flattered you remember.” Sylvanas chuckles. “I have heard quite a few things about you since then... You have served the Forsaken very well, I did want to reward you one day...” - “You already did, my lady.” Her lover winks. “Shut up. ____ _____, will you swear to bring death to our enemies and victory to the Forsaken?” - “I swear, my queen.” - “Then rise as commander ____ ______. Get Andorhal for me and do what two others failed at.” - “Victory for Sylvanas.” The Death Knight stands up and kisses the Dark Lady's gloved hand once. “I shall take my leave then.” - “Didn't you forget something?” - “What?” Sylvanas hands a signed and sealed paper to ____, on which the order for her to be new commander of the Andorhal units is written. “I am a fool sometimes.”, the elf grins. “I'll see you when the village is ours, your majesty.”
10135991	home shit home	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch, Richard Gansey III, Blue Sargent, Declan Lynch", "Fandom": "Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by telekinesiskid", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-06T00:00:00", "words": "2,928", "Additional Tags": "POV Second Person, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, victim blaming behaviour, Everyone is Upset, Past Abuse, hearing damage, the gang bails ronan out of jail", "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 three of you go to pick him up.You ride in the backseat of the Pig, Blue’s hand relentlessly curled around yours. She tries desperately to look into your eyes and not the discolouration still blossomed around them, on your cheekbone, at your freshly wounded ear, which hasn’t heard anything other than deadness and periodic bursts of high-pitched agony for almost four days now. She smiles at you like she doesn’t see it, but if she’s looking at you then she’s looking right at it.You face forward. You try not to catch Gansey’s eye in the rear-view.He parks just outside the police station. Declan’s car is already there, and Declan is already heading inside, looking crisp even on a day he would be forgiven for looking a little rumpled. He turns only to give you all a begrudging look of acknowledgement before resuming his stride, slow enough for you all to catch up and form a group. The Regrettable Acts of Ronan Lynch party.You wait for some time, humdrum on one side, achy numbness on the other. You’re seated on a robust bench, your feet planted firmly on the ground, and yet the world still tilts when you’re not watching it. At least it no longer somersaults when you close your eyes. Blue’s hand continues to cling to yours even as sweat and awkward positioning conspire to make it more of a chore than a comfort. With your free hand, you carefully place it over your deaf ear, as if you could hold the pain that trickles out of it. For a while, you just listen to your ear’s heartbeat.Gansey leans forward to whisper, “Does it hurt?”“What?”He points. “Your ear, does it hurt?”You lower your hand. “I’m fine.”“You should see a doctor.”“Gansey.”It’s a warning to back off, and he does, grimacing with reluctance. You’re not reviving this conversation here, in front of Blue, for snippets to be caught by passing civil servants who could gossip about it over their coffee breaks. He always has an answer to everything and it’s infuriating. You don’t have the insurance nor the money to cover hospital bills? Gansey will pay. You can’t afford to miss anymore school or work? Gansey advises gravely, “Your health should come first.” You think it’s too late for a doctor to repair your hearing damage? Gansey berates, “You should’ve gone to A&E immediately,” as if he thinks there’s any value in telling you this other than to make you feel worse than you already do.A pair of heavy-duty doors open and you all stand as Ronan finally steps out, accompanied by a guard. The sight of him quickens your heart; he still has flecks of dried blood on his shirt, and his face is about as pretty as yours right now, both mottled by the same fists. His pink knuckles stand out on his white skin, scabbed but healing. He holds in his stiff hands the personal artefacts on him at the time of his arrest: Swiss army knife, car keys, scuffed-up credit cards, a dead cell phone. He turns his lowered head back to the guard, mutters something about missing a lighter and a packet of crisps. No one returns them to him.He walks a little lopsided, favouring the side that didn’t take the brunt of bad jail beds or your father’s sustained punches. He stands before you all, nodding and meeting everyone’s eye. “Thanks for coming,” he says, only a little facetious.The corners of Gansey’s eyes wrinkle sadly. “Of course.” Then he starts to chew on his lip. “You’ve, um… You’ve been expelled.”Ronan scoffs. The guard slaps his shoulder twice before taking off. “Figures.”You wince as Declan barks from beside you, “That’s all you’ve got to say. ‘Figures’.”Ronan offers his brother a cursory flip of the bird, and then his eyes move to find yours. “Alright, Parrish?”“Yeah.” You nod. “Yeah.”But the silence from everyone that follows says otherwise.Gansey’s nerves move him to fill that silence before you can. “Adam says he’s convinced his father to drop the charges against you.” He speaks with a well-enunciated lilt; you can’t tell if it’s because he’s struggling to keep his emotions in check by making light of them, or if he’s talking like he thinks he’s parroting your lies. “So maybe we could speak to the principal about it. See if we can arrange something.”“Don’t bother,” Ronan says. He jerks his chin at the door. “Are we gonna leave or what?”The conversation is put on hold as you all awkwardly shuffle out of the police station, but you feel several more tiers awkward than everyone else. Cold, clinical stares from the staff only remind you that Ronan has spent three nights in there, which is three more nights than he should have.Declan falls to the back of the group to hiss something private to his brother, but Ronan responds, loud and abrasive, “You know damn well graduation was never in the cards. Believe me; I’m not going to regret my expulsion.”“Ronan,” Gansey sighs. “You don’t know that.”Blue asks, clearly sceptical, “You’re not at all bothered that you won’t have even a basic high school qualification?”Ronan shakes his head as he busily pockets all of his belongings into his bomber jacket. “Won’t need it. It’s not useful to me, where I’m going.”“And where are you going?” Declan asks, aggrieved but masochistic enough to hear the obviously bullshit answer that’s coming.Ronan grins at him, even though the split lip must hurt. “Greener pastures.”“Oh for fuck’s sake, Ronan,” Declan barks, and the mood shifts to an awful place no one wanted it to be. “Stop joking around. You and I are going to see the principal, right now.”Ronan laughs, and it’s a jarring mess. Your stomach knots. “Fuck off. I only just got released from one institute’s custody; I’m not about to put myself into yours.”“Oh you will. And you’re not living in that stinking manufacturing plant anymore; you’re coming to live with me and Matthew in the dorms, where you should be.”“They won’t let me stay in the dorms if they won’t let me back into their school, you fucking idiot.”Declan stops moving and glares at his brother with that sharp, taut line of his mouth that either means the cogs are turning for a cutting one-liner, or he’s seconds away from grabbing him. Gansey sees it too and steps in before the situation can escalate. “Declan,” he tries, calm but firm, “He’s tired. Just let him rest for a while.”You and Declan watch Ronan lose interest in the lot of you and walk off. Declan attempts to dodge around Gansey; Gansey’s hands fly up to keep Declan at bay. “He’s tired,” Gansey pleads, “No matter what you say or do, he’s not going to go with you today. Please, try talking to him tomorrow.”Declan shoves him off, eyes never leaving Ronan’s retreating backside, but he has no choice but to take his leave. Everyone left is quiet as Declan stomps to his car, slams the door and speeds down the street.“Oh, he’s right there,” Gansey sighs, relieved, and you turn to see Ronan leaning against the Pig. Hands in pockets, attracting stink eyes, looking every bit the delinquent skinhead who was just released from jail. You think if he had a beer in his hand right now that nothing, not even being several feet from a police station, would stop him from drinking it. “I thought he’d wandered off.”“He looks like he’s waiting for witnesses to clear before he’ll hotwire your car,” Blue says.“Mm. He probably is.” Gansey pulls his keys from his pocket and holds them out to Blue. “Could you let him in before they arrest him again?”Blue’s hand squeezes yours before she lets go. Now it’s just you and Gansey.“Adam.”You try to follow after her.Gansey follows you. “Adam?” His voice is gentle and well-meaning in a way that makes you nauseous. “If you’d like to press charges, you know it’s not too late. I’d help you.”“No,” you mumble, “It is too late.”“I’m sure they’d understand.”Your brow twitches. It’s rich of Gansey to talk of understanding when he still doesn’t understand the situation himself. It puts a barb in your throat, but you do your best to speak around it.“It’s not my fault Ronan got himself expelled, Gansey.”“I…” Gansey blinks. “I didn’t say it was.”“No one asked him to get involved. He shouldn’t have interfered.”You feel the heat of Gansey’s stare without even looking at it. “Just like the police shouldn’t have interfered?” He puts his hand on your arm to stop you and turns you toward him. “Well, what was he supposed to do? If you’d seen me or Blue or anyone else getting beaten by their parent, would you have just walked away? God, Adam, your father’s already taken your hearing; what more damage will you let him inflict on you before enough is enough?”You look away, eyes stinging. You don’t want to fight again, not so soon, not in the middle of the street, not within earshot of Ronan and Blue and the Henrietta police. Not with your head pounding and an ill, off-balance pressure in your ear you’ll never be able to pop.“Come on, Adam,” Gansey urges, achingly sincere. “The police station is right there. Let’s just tell them what really happened.” “No.” “Why?”You look at him, incredulous. Why? Because you’re scared. Scared that a confessional to the police would only result in a slap on the wrist for your father and a shared jovial, joshy comment about Kids These Days. Scared that, even if your father were arrested and spent the couple of nights in jail in Ronan’s place, he would only return home angrier, scarier. Scared what your mother would say, of what the neighbours would say, of what the criminal justice system would say. Scared of losing your life, scared of living.But you can’t tell him that you’re scared. Instead you tell him in a voice not as calm and even as you remember it, “I don’t know.”The two of you jolt as the Pig honks. You see Ronan in the passenger side, hand pressed to the steering wheel’s horn, Blue trying to pull him off from somewhere in the back. Ronan’s stare is hollow and impatient, and you hate that you feel some module of guilt that forces you to hurry back to the Pig, Gansey helplessly in tow.You shuffle into the backseat, slam the door. Blue rests her hand palm-up beside your thigh, but even after you buckle up, you don’t take it. After another few seconds, her hand slinks away.Voices and engines become a background din that’s dwarfed by the off-pitch whining and throbbing absence in your ear. You eventually make out what sounds like “Parrish?” and turn to see Ronan, clearly not fastened into his seat, craning over the headrest to gawk at you.You frown at him. “What?”“…Are you kidding me? Are you ignoring me or are you deaf?”You tap your good ear irritably. “Speak into this ear from now on, asshole.”His face blanks. “What? Why?”But you don’t need to explain why. You’ve said all you need to for him to understand, and with a pointed twist of your head, you invite him to stare at the purplish reds of your mottled, probably-damaged-beyond-repair ear.After you give him a good eyeful, he sits back down. Even though you don’t hear it, you watch him mutter, “Christ,” under his breath.“I told him he ought to go to a hospital,” Gansey grumbles.“Oh god, give it a rest,” Blue moans. “My aunt took a look at his ear and said there’s nothing we can do but relieve the pain; the damage has been done.”“With all due respect, Jane,” Gansey responds, scathingly polite, “I don’t believe a witch’s sage-flavoured water with a generous splash of gin is as valuable as an educated doctor’s prognosis.”Blue claps with heavy sarcasm. “Real clever, Gansey. Witches. We haven’t heard that one before.”“I’m just saying,” he protests, “that modern medicine might yield better results.”“I’m not paying three hundred dollars for a doctor to tell me something I already know,” you mumble.Gansey throws you such a pained and frustrated look.“Eyes on the road, Dick,” Ronan mumbles, and Gansey slides him a look with a little more open hostility.“You’re not dropping out of school.”“I didn’t drop out; I was kicked out. Big difference.”“There’s not much difference if you don’t at least try to get back in.”“Fuck off,” Ronan snarls, leaning away from the driver’s side. “If I wanted a fucking lecture on this I’d have picked a ride with Dick-clan over you.”“Don’t be a child.”“Oh my god—could you lay off everyone, please?” Blue demands, and Gansey makes that startled, scandalised face in the rear-view, like he had absolutely no idea he was maliciously, methodically treading on everyone’s toes. “We get that you’re angry, we do, but could you not take it out on everyone, please?”“I’m not angry,” he says, and no one believes him. The more he lightens up his voice and smiles doesn’t make it any more convincing. “Really, I’m not angry at all. I’m just… I’m just a little concerned.”“Don’t be concerned about Lynch, Gansey; he’ll be just fine,” you say tersely. “He’s already told you he doesn’t want to go to school, so he won’t. It’s not as if another year and a half is going to make him any smarter anyway.”“Ouch, Parrish,” Ronan says. “You calling me a dumbass?”“No.” You pause, collecting your thoughts. “I’m calling you pig-headed.”It’s quiet for a moment. Gansey gapes like he’s just been slapped. Or like his best friend was just slapped by his other best friend, right in front of him.You catch Ronan’s glare in the wing mirror. You meet it unabashedly, calm and unblinking for a few seconds, and then you give your attention to something with a little more value. The dirt under your nails, the stains on your overalls, the pizza receipts and fast food wrappers that litter the Pig’s floor.Your request, “Could you take me back?” is the first voice spoken in over five minutes of tense, hurt silence.Gansey miserably shakes his head. “I can’t in good conscience take you back to that place, Adam.”“Drop me off right here then.”“Wait, what?” Ronan swivels around in his seat to stare incredulously at Gansey and then stare incredulously at you. “Don’t fucking tell me you’re still living in that shithole with those shitheads.”Your eyes narrow. “That ‘shithole’ is my home, and those ‘shitheads’ are my parents.”“What the fuck,” he shouts, and even Gansey, who’s surely jubilantly vindicated Ronan is echoing his sentiments in ways he never could, puts a hand on him in an attempt to get him to back down. “Why haven’t you moved the fuck out already? Come live with us.”Your tone is dry. “No thanks.”“Ronan,” Gansey murmurs, adjusting his hand, but Ronan elbows it off.“Go live with her then!”Blue says in a small voice, and not for the first time, “I know my house is pretty full, but we always make more room somehow. It’d be no trouble to have you with us.”You wave off all their earnest offers, just as you did three days ago. “I don’t need to stay with anyone. And no, I don’t want your money to stay somewhere else. Look, can you just drop me off?”The Pig gradually rolls to a stop. Ronan fixes you with a heavy look you can’t ignore, a look that says, I went to jail for you, asshole.You feel a twinge of some twisted emotion that’s better left sobbed and screamed into pillows, hidden behind closed doors. But he didn’t go to jail for you, you remind yourself. You never fucking asked him to.You grab the door handle, but you’re not done. “You don’t fucking know how hard it is. You don’t appreciate what I went through just to get him to drop the charges against you. You’re all just—criticising me, even when you have no idea what it’s like to try to press charges against your own father.”Ronan mutters, “It’d be fucking easy if my dad ever beat the shit out of me.”You shake your head. You can’t even think of the words to tell him just how wrong he is, so you just open the door. You barely remember to put an arm around Blue before you leave the Pig, meeting the eyes of few, saying goodbye to no one. Ronan winds down the window, not to have the last word, but to lean out and stare in that overly-intense, hostile manner that he does. You don’t even look as the Pig throws up little dust clouds and starts to trundle away, leaving you alone. Just like you wanted, you guess.Before you’ve even made it to the line-up of battered, grimy mailboxes that mark the entrance to your trailer park, you’re in tears and shaking.As you walk down the driveway you wonder, not for the first time in the past couple of days, if you’ve made a mistake.
10100996	Breaking With Tradition	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Sara Lance, Leonard Snart, Felicity Smoak, Thea Queen, Mick Rory, Lyla Michaels, John Diggle, Lisa Snart, Quentin Lance, Dinah Lance, Donna Smoak, Martin Stein, Ray Palmer, Oliver Queen", "Fandom": "DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Jael, pir8grl", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-04-04T00:00:00", "words": "3,742", "Additional Tags": "Weddings, Wedding Fluff, Fluff and Crack", "Relationship": "Sara Lance/Leonard Snart", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Unbroken", "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 }	You are cordially invited to the wedding of Sara Lance & Leonard Snart. Black tie. *No weapons, please. A bespectacled young man with a clipboard ran up to the man who was parking his motorcycle in front of the Central City Park Lake House. “Sir? Sir, excuse me, but you can’t park here. There’s a wedding in two hours!”Leonard Snart removed his helmet. “I know. It’s my wedding.”“Oh? Then you would be Mr. Snart.”“I would.”“Excellent. I’ll show you to the groom’s dressing room. We can have one of the valets move your vehicle.”“I don’t think so,” Snart told him. Something about his expression caused the erstwhile wedding coordinator to fall back a pace.“Er… of course, sir. And you’ll be happy to know that both the CCPD and the ESU from Star City have conducted a thorough sweep of the facility, as well as those…other people.”“What other people?”“Well, sir…I’m afraid the best way I can think of to describe them is…er…Men in Black. I'm not precisely sure what they were looking for, but they assure me that the park is completely secure.”Snart’s eyes narrowed as a tall man in an immaculate tux and a stunning brunette in a champagne-colored satin gown approached. The woman tapped her ear piece. “All units, Harbinger has Bridegroom in hand.”“You have got to be kidding me.”The man stepped forward and extended his hand, which Snart ignored. “Congratulations, Mr. Snart.”“And you are?”“John Diggle. This is Lyla Michaels. We‘re friends of Sara. Also Oliver, Laurel, and Quentin.”“Look, if you’re here for the party-fine. But I don’t want any spooky crap going on around here. I’m here to get married - that’s it.”“Believe me, Mr. Snart,” Lyla said with an ingratiating smile, “that’s all any of us want. And you might want to check your phone…I’m assuming you’ve got at least one missed call from Ray Palmer.”“So that’s who put the tracker on me,” Snart replied. “One of them, at any rate.”Digg leveled a serious look at Snart. “Mr. Snart, I get that you just want to get married to Sara. Believe me, I’ve been there. But the thing is, because of who we are, things tend to happen around us. Nobody wants any of those things to happen today, all right?”Snart huffed out a breath, then nodded, finally offering his hand. “Do I want to know how you met Sara?”“Probably not.” Sara never intended to do the whole getting-ready-for-the-wedding-at-mom's thing, but here she was. Staring at herself in her wedding dress... holy shit, her wedding dress... in the big oval mirror on the wall at her mother's house in Central City.Her mother and Donna have wandered off for the moment, and so have the others who've been here to keep her company on this special day. Actually, she believed Laurel has herded them all off for a few minutes, giving her a bit to herself.Which is good. She needed it. Oh, not because of any cold feet (she smirked at the could-be pun), but just because it's still so... so...Sara’s phone vibrated, breaking her reverie. She smiled when she saw the caller ID. “Hey, crook.”“Hey, assassin,” Snart drawled lazily. “You’ve got some interesting friends.”“Yeah? Which ones?”“A special ops type and his girlfriend the spy?”“Digg and Lyla. Don’t give them grief - they’re good people.”“Who could probably kill me without breaking a sweat.”“That too.”There was a long pause, and Sara could just see him looking around to make sure no one was listening in.“I can’t wait to see you,” Snart said softly.“I love you,” she whispered.“Sara? Have you seen -” Thea poked her head in the room. “You’re not talking to Leonard, are you? That’s bad luck.”“Only if he sees me, and only if you actually give a crap about that sort of thing.”“They’re our friends, and we love them,” Leonard sing-songed in her ear.“See you soon,” Sara murmured, then ended the call and took a deep breath, turning to face Thea. "So. I heard something about pictures?"The photographer is actually someone Lisa Snart recommended, a young woman with an amazing portfolio and the sort of shitty past life the Snart siblings tend to try to help people from, whether they'll admit it or not. She was a bit wide-eyed at the company she was keeping, but she soldiered on, snapping away as Sara and her friends and family finished getting ready. It's all so... cliche, Sara thought, as Laurel and Felicity laughed and Thea presented her, straight-faced, with a beautifully wrapped gift box with a serious "something new." But it is fun.And, as she opened the box to find a razor-sharp tiny blade in an embroidered wrist sheath, she had to admit that maybe they'll never really be cliche. And that's not a bad thing.The limos to transport the wedding party and civilian guests were Ray’s wedding gift. They were beautiful and luxurious, with sumptuous leather interiors stocked with French champagne and Belgian truffles. Sara’s expert eye immediately noted that they rode a bit low - a sure sign that the vehicles were armored. The drivers were too sharp for regular chauffeurs. From the accents, she guessed former SAS. She just hoped her mother and Donna wouldn’t notice.Precautions aside, they made it to the venue without incident, and with a great deal of laughter. (And champagne, more so for some than others.) Lyla appeared out of nowhere to hustle them into a room especially set aside for the bride and friends and family, to finish all those last-minute touches and bells and whistles like flowers and..."Felicity...""What?"Felicity is no good at prevaricating, Sara thinks. At least, not to Sara. That innocent expression is patently fake."Why is there a surveillance camera in my bouquet?""What... oh, now where did that come from?""I swear to god...""It's in case you're kidnapped or something." Helpful Thea is helpful. And has been hitting the champagne in the limo on the way to the park. "That way we'll have an idea where you are. Although I think there's a tracker in the earrings Laurel gave you as your 'something blue.'""Are you freakin' kidding me? Even Laurel?" Sara looked around for her sister, who has apparently vanished to attend to some sort of maid-of-honor duty."Well, your dad put a microphone in the lining of your grandmother's handkerchief. Your 'something old?' But I think that's more because he still thinks he can catch Leonard admitting to nefarious purposes in marrying his baby girl." A snigger. "I told him he just better make sure it's turned off for the wedding night. Thought he was gonna have another heart attack.""I give up." “Mick, for the last time - you are not taking the heat gun into the ceremony!”“Don’t worry, Boss. I got your back,” Mick insisted. “If anything goes south, you just grab Sara and run.”“Mick. The only thing I’m worried about right now is you burning down the building. The invitations said ‘no weapons’ for a reason.”“I didn’t think you meant me.”Snart just shook his head and turned his attention back to his bow tie. He noticed Mick wasn’t even making the attempt, then decided he didn’t really care. It was just the two of them in the small room reserved for the groom and attendants. Lisa will be standing with him, of course, but right now, she's off with the ladies. Well, he isn't... close... to many people. Raymond and Jax have become almost... friends... and Barry is owed a certain amount of credit, but that doesn't mean that's going to change.He lifted his eyes a moment later to notice a distinctly odd expression on his best man's face. "Mick?" "Boss." Another beat, then the bigger man sighed. "You're lucky, hear me? You and Blondie. And I hope you get your...happy ever after, lame as that sounds." He glared at his friend. "And if you ever repeat this, I'll make sure you regret it. Right?" "Right." Not so far away, the ladies were making the final adjustments to hair and dresses before the ceremony.“Oh, my God…you look so beautiful!” Donna wavered, enveloping her daughter in a fierce embrace.“Mom! Mom!” Felicity hissed.Donna stepped back - slightly. “Right. Don’t want to mess your dress.” She swiped at her eyes.“Mom. This is not my day, all right? It’s Sara’s.”Sara turned away quickly to hide a smirk. She was just fine with Donna fawning over Felicity. One mother of the bride was quite enough, thanks all the same.And then she saw Lisa, off by herself, fiddling with her dress. The style was similar to the other girls’ - navy blue, with a wrap-style front and a jeweled clasp on the hip…but Lisa’s had a bolero to cover her scar. Dinah Lance noticed where her daughter was looking. She patted Sara’s shoulder and stepped over to Lisa.“Here, let me help you,” she offered, with a warm smile.“I’m fine,” Lisa said automatically, dropping the cluster of flowers she was trying to pin in her hair.Dinah stooped and picked it up easily.“I can manage,” Lisa insisted.“I know,” Dinah agreed, “but I’ll let you in on a little secret. It’s not just your brother who’s marrying into our family, you know.” While she spoke, Dinah carefully smoothed Lisa’s curls into place and pinned the flower behind her ear. “There. You’re perfect.”Lisa looked at their reflections in the mirror. “Yeah?”“Yeah.” Snart smacked Mick as he wolf-whistled. “Hey, Sis,” he said with a soft smile. “You look beautiful.”“Thanks.“ She smiled brilliantly and sashayed over to kiss his cheek. “I’m so happy for you, Lenny.”“I’m so happy that you, at least, followed directions and left your gun at home,” he replied, returning to his customary drawl after the brief flirtation with sentimentality.“I never follow directions,” Lisa replied airily. “My gun is in the Star Labs support vehicle.”“What Star Labs support vehicle?” Snart demanded.Mick shot Lisa a dirty look. “The one you don’t know nothing about, Boss.”Snart counted to ten slowly and silently, in an attempt to not air every swear word he knew here, right before his wedding, with his future in-laws probably within earshot. “Tell your boyfriend to take his toys home, because we don’t need them here! I’m getting married today. That’s it. No bad guys, no nonsense. Nothing. I mean it.”“Well…um…he can’t.”“Why. Not?”“Because the CCPD are using it for a mobile command post.”Before Snart could formulate a suitable response to that, John Diggle stuck his head in the room, after rapping once on the door. “Mr. Snart, Lyla just wanted to assure you that we’ve got eyes on Cupid. She won’t get within five miles of this place.”“Who the hell is Cupid, and why do I care?” Snart demanded.“She’s a not-so-nice person with a grudge against happy couples.”“Peachy.”“They mean well, Lenny,” Lisa said, patting his arm.There was another diffident tap at the door.“Oh, for god’s sake, you people,” Snart roared. “I am trying to get married. That’s it. No metas, no bad guys, no nonsense.”“Lenny.”“I swear to god, if one more person barges in here, I’m gonna grab Sara and hop a flight to Vegas!”“Lenny!” Lisa snapped. She gestured to the door, and he turned around slowly.It was a guy in a florist’s coverall, carrying a box of boutonnières for the groomsmen…and looking just slightly terrified.Lisa glared at her brother, then walked over and took the box from the poor guy. She carefully pinned a white rose with a cluster of frosty-blue flowers to the lapel of her brother’s immaculate tux. Then she turned her attention to Mick, pursing her lips when she realized that he wasn’t wearing a jacket. She started to open her mouth, but Len just laid a hand on her arm and shook his head. Mick looked presentable enough, and he wasn’t running a damn chorus line. Lisa shrugged and set about pinning the flowers to Mick’s vest.Ray poked his head in the door. "Jax and Oliver are seating Mrs. Lance and Ms. Smoak, so that‘s your cue.”“Please tell me Queen didn’t bring a bow and arrows,” Snart grumbled.“Not as far as I can tell,” Ray replied, cheerfully missing the point.“And I suppose you’ve got your suit in your pocket?”“Well, you never know what might happen. Especially when people insist on taking off their trackers and not answering their phones. Besides, I didn't think you meant me.”“Start running now, Haircut,” Mick advised.Lisa just laughed and picked up her nosegay. "I'm pretty sure everyone here ignored you, Lenny," she said. "Well. Maybe not Barry Allen. But he doesn't need weapons, doesn't he?" She just laughed harder at her brother's dour look. The opening notes of Billy’ Joel’s “You’re My Home” began and Thea started down the aisle, followed by Felicity. Laurel fluffed Sara’s hair over her shoulders, then kissed her cheek before turning to follow.“You look beautiful, baby girl,” Quentin said, a touch mistily, as he took Sara’s arm.“And you’re walking like a guy with a .38 in an ankle holster,” she replied. “You do know we said no weapons, right?”“Hey, that don’t apply to your old man! If you two had picked someplace a little more defensible…”“Dad. We didn’t pick this place to hold off bad guys! We picked it because…well, it’s one of the few places that Len and Lisa recall their mother bringing them, when they were little kids. We thought it would kinda be like she was here with us.”Well, there wasn’t much he could say to that, except to lean in and kiss his daughter’s forehead, and thank whomever might be listening that he got to see this day. Quentin managed the walk down the aisle with suitable decorum, but once they arrived at their destination, he couldn’t help but look at his daughter - twice lost to him, only to be miraculously restored - and he couldn’t resist drawing her into a crushing embrace, which Sara returned with equal ferocity.“I love you, baby girl.”“I love you, too, Daddy.”Quentin looked to the tall, blue-eyed man who was waiting for them…looked deep in his eyes, and finally found whatever it was he was looking for. “You take good care of her, all right?” he said in a rough whisper, as he pressed Sara’s hand into Leonard’s“We take care of each other,” Leonard replied gravely.Quentin nodded, then swiped at his eyes and retreated to his seat.Martin Stein smiled with fatherly warmth at the couple who stood before him. “Leonard, Sara, I’m going to dispense with the Hebrew, and indeed, most of the traditional words. You are perhaps, the least traditional people I have ever had the very great fortune to encounter."That garnered a quiet chuckle from the assembled guests.“I’ve made it my life’s work to study and unravel the great mysteries of the universe, but perhaps the greatest mystery of them all is the connection between two hearts. Leonard and Sara, in all the universe, you found each other, not once, but twice. You accepted each other, just as you were, and at the same time, you bring out the best in each other.“I would not be standing here today, if not for the two of you, and I know that’s true of many others here. So, without further ado, who’s got the rings?” Leonard might not ever admit it to anyone but himself, but the few minutes were a blur. The ring makes it onto Sara's finger, and his is on his hand, but the clearest part of the whole thing was when Stein finally, finally urges him to kiss the bride. And so he does. Well, it was sort of mutual, with Sara grabbing his jacket even as he leaned toward her, and there were a few wolf whistles in the background that he was pretty sure were from Mick, Jax, and Sara's friend Thea. When the whistles and applause finally turned to laughter, they came up for air. Sara was grinning at him with that light in her blue eyes and he was pretty sure the expression on his own face was the sort of foolish grin he'd normally never ever own up to. But it didn't matter. They're married. To have and to hold. Til death do them part. Now it's all over but the party. Recommendations and assistance from friends and family had helped them put together the usual associated festivities for a wedding, and the catering, even Mick has to admit, was impressive. For a while, all was calm (or as calm as this group ever got). Lisa stepped up to the microphone as the waiters cleared away the dishes from dinner.“My big brother chose the music for his first dance with Sara, and it’s a surprise - to everyone but me, that is," she said. "It was a favorite of our mother’s.“Leonard led his bride out to the dance floor and swept her into his arms as the first lilting chords of “Perhaps Love” filled the space. There was a chorus of soft murmurs and coos from the ladies, and a few raised eyebrows among the gentlemen, but the couple swaying together on the dance floor didn’t notice…or care.Sara smiled up at her husband. “It’s beautiful.”“It’s…all the things I can never find the words for.”As the night went on, the party grew more relaxed and the laughter even more widespread. Someone decided it would be funny to start requesting songs with in-jokes from the hapless DJ, leading to a memorable run of Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time," Huey Lewis' "Back in Time," "Time Warp" from the Rocky Horror Picture Show, "The Longest Time" by Billy Joel, "Time Waits for No One" by the Rolling Stones, and more. Finally, Jax declared that this was far too much "old people music" ("Hey!" Leonard protested) and commandeered the DJ for more dance-worthy material, which kept on for a some time before things slowed down again. Quentin and Lisa were dancing - OK, mostly just sort of swaying - to a quiet song on the edge of the dance floor. He couldn’t keep up with these kids and their crazy music anymore. But he'd seen his new son-in-law's sister wistfully watching during the father-daughter dance he'd had with Sara, and couldn't resist asking the young woman for a dance a bit later. Somewhat to his surprise, she'd accepted.“So,” Lisa asked brightly, “did you ever think you’d end up with a crook for a son-in-law?”“I ended up with a guy who makes my baby girl happy for a son-in-law. That’s all I ever really wanted. Guy or girl.” He paused a moment, looking down at the pretty girl in front of him, with the hard edges to her eyes and smile. “Look, Sara’s told me some things about how you and your brother grew up, and it sucks. And I just wanted to say…me, and Dinah, and Donna…we raised three pretty amazing daughters between the three of us, and if you ever …you know…if you ever need anything -”Lisa smiled, and stretched up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, Mr. Lance.”Leonard had enjoyed himself far more than he'd anticipated, making the rounds of the party guests both with and without Sara at his side. These people... strange as it might seem, they were family. And far preferred to most of the family he'd been born to. He'd snagged a drink and sat down during a quiet moment, stretching his legs out in front of him and looking for Sara, smiling to himself as he found her and taking a sip of his scotch. She looked like she was having fun. A few minutes later, his sister found him there. “Thank you, Lenny,” Lisa said quietly.“For…?” he asked, his gaze still tracking Sara, who was boogying with Jax.“For this,” she said, gesturing around the room in a helpless attempt to express what she was feeling. “For finding someone like Sara and sharing all this with me. I never thought we’d get anything like normal families. Just…thanks.”Leonard glanced around at the room full of heroes, demi-gods, and the odd alien, and smirked. “Well, I don’t know how normal all this is, but…you’re welcome.”Letting Ray try to match drinks against Mick had been amusing as hell - for a while - but now it was getting very old, very quickly.“Come on, guys - it’s tradition!” Ray informed them happily.“We discussed this, Len,” Sara gritted out through a forced smile. “I think that fishing around under a woman’s dress in public is creepy. And you know how I handle men who are being creepy.”Leonard leaned in closer, under the pretext of dropping a kiss on her temple. “What aren’t you telling me?”“I’m not wearing a garter. I’m wearing a ceramic knife in a thigh sheath. And I don’t think my folks need to see that.”“You know we have a no weapons rule, right?”“It doesn’t apply to me.”“You made it!”“That’s why it doesn’t apply to me.”Len sighed and looked at his erstwhile teammate through narrowed eyes. “It’s a tradition that my wife doesn’t appreciate, Raymond,” he said, in a tone that quite clearly announced that the subject was closed.If one happened to be sober enough to comprehend, which Ray wasn’t. Felicity and Oliver came up beside him and each took an arm.“Come on, buddy,” Oliver said, “I hear they’ve got great coffee here. Let’s go find some.”‘Thank you,’ Sara mouthed.“Irish coffee?” Ray asked brightly.“Colombian,” Oliver replied.“And black. Very, very black,” Felicity added.“Well, it wouldn’t be a party if someone didn’t get plastered,” Sara sighed.“Yet another tradition I could have done without,” Leonard grumbled.“Not all traditions are bad.”“Name one.”Sara smirked, then stretched up on her toes to show him, instead.Leonard really couldn’t say that he minded that particular tradition. In fact, he enjoyed it. Enthusiastically.
10197086	bad things	{ "Archive Warning": null, "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Lucas Baker, Clancy Jarvis", "Fandom": "Biohazard \| Resident Evil (Gameverse)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by chiller (orphan_account)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-09T00:00:00", "words": "5,213", "Additional Tags": "Torture, Eye Trauma, Burning, Restraints, just bad stuff, author is sorry", "Relationship": "Lucas Baker/Clancy Jarvis", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con", "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	The room buzzed with the sound of a speaker coming to life. Then a mocking voice. "Don't tell me you've given up already. We only just got started! You still have so much more fun waiting for you. You wouldn’t dare waste the party I set up just for you, would you, Clancy?" "Fuck this, I'm done playing your sick games. I'm not going to finish your party. Let me out." "Hah, I don't think so. You have to win, fair and square. If you don't put some pep in your step pretty damn soon, I'll come in there and put some in ya' myself. Show a little gratefulness that I didn’t just electrocute you to death like our friend Hoffman." Lucas's voice was scratchy with static through the old speaker system, but the threat was clear. Solve the puzzle, or face the consequences. Based on everything else the young man had done to his victims, Clancy didn't doubt that he would follow through on his word. But still, the cameraman contemplated for a moment longer. To defy Lucas would be to risk his own life. If Clancy proved to no longer be of any entertainment, there was no use for keeping him around. Refusing to finish the game would be suicide. However, Clancy wasn't foolish. He knew the chances of completing this game with his life were slim. Through his quick decisions and daring risks, he had gotten lucky with all the other challenges he faced. But there was a limit to how many times you could bet with death and walk away the winner. He determined he had two options. Refuse to play, and, as Lucas had warned, suffer the consequences. Or, he could carry through with the puzzle around him and potentially live to participate in another torturous endeavor. Clancy's resolve was thinning, though, after each strenuous and agonizing game. If he managed to survive this party, would he be able to make it through another? Who's to say the next scheme Lucas has planned wouldn't be worse? The outlook seemed dim, and filled with death. "Tick tock, tickity tock! I don't have all day! Are you gonna move or what? Don’t make me come down there." The Baker son reminded his captive. There was obvious annoyance in his voice that was beginning to grow as Clancy continued to stall. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Clancy replied urgently, choking on the overwhelming feeling of dread inside him. He wanted more time to think, to come to peace with his inevitable death, but if Lucas's tone was any indication, it would be best for him to keep moving. Shaking the hesitancy from his mind, he determinedly pushed forward with the remnants of hope clinging to him. Maybe he would find better circumstances to resist as he progressed in Lucas's game. Clancy rifled through the items he had obtained during his exploration of the area he was locked in. He currently had a small telescope that he had washed with the shower in the doorway, and a wind-up key that he had pulled from a barrel in the birthday room. When he had tugged out the key from the barrel, he was mortified to see gasoline pour from the hole that had been plugged. Desperately Clancy had tried to cover the hole or plug it with something else, but the liquid drained so forcefully that he couldn't contain it. Now the barrel was all but empty, its contents spilled across the floor and seeping into the wood. The strong stench had made Clancy a little dizzy, so he chose to steer clear from that room and explore the rest of the complex. And besides, the notion of carrying a lighted candle in a room soaked in gasoline made Clancy's stomach clench with anxiety. The thought of the candle sparked an idea in Clancy. He set down his other collected items on the kitchen counter and took out the candle to examine it. He had noticed one of the doors in the complex was tightly tied shut with rope, which he had not been able to untie or tear. Maybe he was supposed to burn it with the lit candle? This progress made his insides whirl and he stepped over to the stove. Clancy turned the knob and waited for the flames before tilting the wick of the candle towards the fire. He watched as it lit, and then he turned off the stove. There was no use to leave it on, and it would only provide yet another danger. Then Clancy took his candle to the roped off door, and was pleased when the rope easily ignited. It burnt away while Clancy watched in apprehension. "Good boy." Lucas said through the speaker. An unpleasant chill ran through Clancy's body. When the last sparks of the burning rope had faded, Clancy opened the door. He was surprised to see a narrow hallway, littered with balloons that popped as he walked passed them. At the end of the hall was another locked door, with a 5 letter word combination. Clancy assumed his goal was to get the dummy to write out the code, after finding all the pieces he needed. Finally the game was becoming more clear. With an exasperated sigh at the lack of useful items, Clancy turned back towards the door he came from. As he moved, something yellow against the wall caught his eye and he froze, glancing down. It was a deflated balloon, which explained the pipe in the other room that was leaking gas. Suddenly understanding what he was meant to do, Clancy kicked a few gray balloons out of the way and picked up the yellow one. It was heavier than any deflated balloon should be, indicating there was something inside it. Before he continued on, Clancy tried to pry apart the balloon's opening to catch a glimpse of what was inside. "Don't do that. Or else you LOSE." Lucas commented, his frustration at Clancy's incompetence replaced with a newfound giddiness. "Ya gotta fill it up up up!""Right..." Clancy muttered as he began to head towards the pipe outside the hallway. In a few steps he was there, fitting the balloon hole over the pipe's mouth. Quickly it began inflating, and Clancy took a nervous step back as he saw pointed ends shaping the balloon from inside. Before he could make sense of that image and get very far away, the rubber popped and its contents shot out in every direction. "Fuck!" Clancy let out a startled gasp, stumbling backwards. He lifted his hands to protect himself just in time for a nail to propel directly into his outstretched left palm. Pain sped through his hand and arm, a miserable combination of burning and throbbing. Clancy swore again as he reflexively reached for the nail and gently tugged it out of his skin, groaning as the nail slid past bones and muscle. Hatefully he dropped it on the floor among the many other nails that could have impaled him. When Clancy looked down, a different object caught his eye. A feathered quill pen had lodged itself into his stomach, but luckily the wound didn't seem to be that deep. He took a large, steadying breath and then pulled the bloody pen out of his body, unable to contain another whine of pain. Clancy was too shocked to do anything other than stare at the fancy pen while blood oozed from his wounds. This cruel set-up reconfirmed Clancy's suspicions that Lucas was only going to increase the intensity of his games. If he continued, there was a high chance of more injuries and certainly death. By choosing to resist now, Clancy could, in the end, die on his own terms. Lucas could come in and kill him right now, and it would be by Clancy's choice rather than at the gruesome end of a futile puzzle. So Clancy made his decision as he cradled his aching hand. He was not going to be a pawn for Lucas to play with. He was ready to make his final stand, his last attempt to fight back. When Lucas came in to penalize Clancy, the cameraman would give every last amount of strength in his body to save his life. If he is unsuccessful in his fight against Lucas, then he at least knows he will not have to suffer any more. "Lucas," Clancy began, seething in anger, "I'm fucking done. I'm not finishing your game. I won't, I won't do it." The silence that followed was so long that Clancy started wondering if Lucas was no longer watching. Finally he heard the static of the speaker, and the heavy breaths from Lucas. "Fine. I warned ya'. I did, I warned you. You're gonna be sorry." The speaker shut off and the room was filled with silence again. Suddenly Clancy was filled with such an intense terror that he couldn't breathe. Had he made a mistake? Could he really fight against Lucas? Clancy put his uninjured hand out, grasping for something to steady himself with. His palm met the wall, and he remained hunched over and gasping for air while Lucas presumably made his way to the party room. He had to do this, it was the only way he had a chance at survival. Below him lay the scattered nails, and Clancy quickly snatched one up once he felt the panic subside. He would have one shot, one opportunity to jam the nail into Lucas and make a run for it. A revenge-fueled part of Clancy took enjoyment in deciding whether to stab Lucas in the eye or the jugular. He didn't have much time to consider before he heard the whirring sound of the heavy screen door being unlocked and opened. Hastily he chose the eye. "Clancyyy~" Lucas called out into the room, his voice laced with a sadistic thrill, "Oh, there is nothing better than the chase. Don't you think, Clancy?" "Go to hell, you sick fuck." Clancy growled back. There was no chase, he was cornered like a mouse. He was enraged that Lucas would mock his helplessness. "There you are!" Lucas teased from near the stove after turning the corner into the room. They were only a few yards away now, and Clancy turned his back to sprint into the hallway filled with balloons. He heard Lucas spring into action behind him. Clancy barely had enough time to shut the hall door behind him, and he immediately dug his heels into the floor and put his back to the door. A strangled yelp escaped his throat as Lucas slammed against the door with all his weight. The shove was so forceful that the door opened just an inch or two. It wouldn't be much of a struggle, considering Lucas's enhanced strength and Clancy’s weakness from all his other injuries. "I'll make it worse if you don't come out NOW!" Lucas threatened, his fingers creeping in the gap between the door and the frame. Clancy pushed back with every muscle in his legs, and felt a satisfied twinge when he heard Lucas's fingers crack. The Baker merely laughed in inappropriate amounts of glee. "You can't hurt me. You can't stop me." Lucas had managed to wedge his whole arm through the door now, and he was reaching for Clancy. Realizing his opportunity, Clancy slackened his legs just a bit so Lucas could squeeze his head through the door. As soon as Lucas was halfway into the hall, Clancy scrabbled for purchase with his legs and tensed all his muscles to trap Lucas against the door. The other man sneered as if the notion of being crushed was no threat, but Clancy could tell he had been caught off guard. Without wasting a second, Clancy twisted his body, releasing his hold on the door, and jammed the nail into the Baker's eye. His aim had been precise despite the chaos and uncertainty, and the rusty old nail protruded from Lucas's now bleeding eye. Lucas howled with fury but made no move to remove the nail or back off, like Clancy would have guessed. Instead, he used his renewed and rage-fueled strength to break the door straight off its hinges, causing dust and debris to swirl through the air. "You've really done it now, boy!" Lucas yelled as spittle flew from his mouth. Clancy had managed to narrowly dodge the falling door, stumbling further into the safety of the hallway. His heart was thudding in his chest, sweat dripping from his skin. But his mind was clear, and he knew what he had to do. In just seconds Lucas had stomped over the door and into the hallway, blood trickling down his face like a gory tear. Now he was blocking Clancy's path; he had the cameraman cornered. With a desperate shriek, Clancy charged at Lucas. He sprinted in the small distance of the hallway, arms outstretched in an imitation of a tackle. There were no other options now. If Clancy didn't play the offensive, he would be pushed farther into the hallway until he had nowhere left to go. His only choice was to attack. The two collided into a mess of clawing limbs and screeching mouths. Almost as if he had been expecting it, Lucas caught Clancy in his own deft arms, using his momentum to swing him out towards the main room. Clancy’s battle cry died on his lips as he was thrown like a doll through the air and landed crashing on the floor. He arched his back in pain as his bones took the brunt force of the fall. “You wanna play dirty, huh?” Lucas panted as he took heavy steps towards Clancy’s figure. “You’re tougher than you look.” The Baker stopped just above Clancy, towering over the smaller man’s frame. He lifted a muddy boot and stepped right on Clancy’s groin, pressing his weight down and making the other man whimper. Lucas held back on the urge to grind his heel down painfully. “Get away from me!” Clancy cried from his incapacitated position on the ground. He made a weak move to crawl away, but Lucas’s foot held him in place like a pinned bug. “Watch.” Lucas instructed eagerly, and then crouched down so he could straddle Clancy’s hips. He reached up slowly to his eye and wrapped his fingers around the edge of the nail stuck inside. Clancy turned his head as nausea flooded his body, but he was met with Lucas’s firm hand on his jaw to turn his head back. “I said watch.” The Baker growled threateningly, and this time Clancy obeyed. Lucas tore the nail from his eye with no hesitancy, and threw the bloody metal across the room. It hit the wall and clanked to the ground. Where the nail had been was a deep red, bloody hole in Lucas’s eye, cutting into the iris. His sclera was red with the blood that had seeped from the wound. And then Lucas began to laugh in a raspy, uneven wheeze. Clancy gave another fearful whimper and began to struggle. “You’re a freak!” He hissed as he thrashed his body in pure survival instincts, limbs flailing from underneath Lucas. His legs kicked pathetically, his heels knocking against the wood floor. His arms went to Lucas’s face, to tug at hair and claw at skin. Lucas, however, outweighed Clancy and easily took the upper hand. When Lucas had had enough of Clancy’s childish writhing, he backhanded the other man as hard as he could across the cheek. Clancy made no sound but instead choked on his breath, his body stiffening. Lucas took this distraction to grab both of Clancy’s wrists and slam them against the floor, effectively pinning the man’s hands on either sides of his head. At this, Clancy cried out in despair and gave one last final struggle, before stilling into submission. “Get off me, let me go...” A hopeless and terrified tone filled Clancy’s voice as he pleaded for mercy. “I just want to go home, I just want to live.” He sucked in deep, unsteady gasps as he fought back tears that threatened to spill. It seemed that there really was no way out, as hard as he fought Lucas. “It’s far too late for that. You belong to me, now. You’re part of the family.” Lucas responded, speaking with an emotion Clancy couldn’t pinpoint. “And something about that fight in you...mmhm...You’re special. You’re not like the other ones.” To make his dominance known, Lucas tightened his hold on Clancy and flipped him over onto his stomach. Lucas folded Clancy’s arms behind his back tightly, and then fumbled in his pants’ pocket for some leftover rope. He let out a pleased hum when he found just enough to tie Clancy’s wrists together. Clancy gave a few more half-hearted squirms, but now that his wrists were tied he felt the true hopelessness settle over him. There was really nothing he could do now except submit to the whim of the maniacal Lucas Baker. That realization made him sick, and he sobbed dryly against the wood floor. “Aww, don’t cry, this’ll be fun. We’re gonna play another game - house. I’ve always wanted a girlfriend. That Mia bitch is darn pretty but she doesn’t want me. Thinks she’s too good for me, says I’m crazy. But she’s the crazy one, and she’s stubborn too. So you can pretend to be my girlfriend instead! How does that sound?” Lucas said, his voice gruff but filled with excitement. “What? No, I don’t want to be your girlfriend, I don’t-” A cold fear started rising in Clancy’s belly as his adrenaline-fueled mind started putting the pieces together. Without wasting any time, Lucas silenced Clancy by grabbing a fistful of the man’s brown scruffy hair and yanking his head up and backwards. He leaned over the other’s arched body until his nose rested against Clancy’s neck. Clancy shuddered visibly when Lucas inhaled deeply. Lucas, almost tentatively, pressed his lips against the base of the cameraman’s neck and peppered it with wet kisses and nibbles.“Don’t fucking touch me!” Clancy snarled to cover his terror. He jerked his head hard to the left, but Lucas’s hold was so tight that the pull on his hair made him see spots. Frantic and illegible sounds fell from his lips as he resumed his struggle with a newfound energy. Lucas simply waited for Clancy to wear himself out before moving to the other side of his neck to give it the same treatment. This time, he bit down on the soft flesh to draw blood and sucked on the wound, much to Clancy’s dismay. When Lucas pulled away, an angry hicky had formed and the Baker grinned in satisfaction. Then Lucas finally released his hold on Clancy’s hair and let the man’s upper body fall back to the floor. Clancy yelped in pain as his forehead collided with the hardwood. As he caught his breath, he felt Lucas’s fingers, including the broken ones, slip underneath the band of his pants. This really set off Clancy’s panic, but he was too tired to physically fight anymore. “Don’t, fuck, please. Don’t do this.” He begged between harsh breaths. Lucas’s only reply was to tug Clancy’s pants and underwear down past his ass cheeks. The cool, damp air of the room hit Clancy’s exposed skin and goosebumps prickled along his arms. Lucas pulled harder at the cameraman’s pants, his movements growing erratic as the jeans didn’t slide down with ease. Lucas’s body trembled with excitement to a point where he was unable to remove Clancy’s clothes. Impatiently, he flipped his captive over again so Clancy was on his back. Clancy murmured in pain as his arms were twisted and crushed underneath his own weight, pressing down on his wound from earlier. “That’s better.” Lucas said as he resumed his job of stripping Clancy. He left the other man’s shirt on, but took off everything below the waist. And then Lucas took his place on top of Clancy, straddling the smaller man’s bare hips. He studied Clancy intently with his remaining good eye, his pupil blown wide. Clancy turned his head away in the shame of being exposed. Lucas then moved on to Clancy’s torso, where he lifted the other’s shirt until it was bunched up by his shoulders. He placed his hands flat on Clancy’s pale belly, which was heaving in distress. “Get your filthy hands off me.” Clancy said, meeting Lucas’s gaze with an intense fury. “Are you sure you don’t want my hands? I can use something else.” Lucas licked his lips. Clancy’s eyes widened and he began to shake his head, but Lucas had already lowered his mouth to Clancy’s stomach. He licked a long stripe from Clancy’s belly button to his nipples, before clamping down on a pink bud with his teeth. “Ah! Stop!” Clancy twisted from side to side as Lucas rolled his nipple between his teeth. Sparks of sickly sweet pleasure radiated from his chest and Clancy bit down on his lip to stifle any pathetic noises that he might make. Lucas continued to ravish Clancy’s chest and stomach for a few more minutes, in a dance of pain and pleasure. When he finally pulled back, the skin was covered in red blotches, scratch marks, and spit from the violent attention Lucas had given it. It was clear now that Clancy was using quite a bit of energy just to keep breathing. All he could do was lay still and try to focus on something else. If he so much as shifted his weight, pain stabbed through the hole in his hand. He was beginning to wish that he had let the party game kill him. The sound of a zipper made Clancy’s entire body run cold, and he lifted his head in time to see Lucas pulling out his already semi-hard cock. A moan of fear fell from Clancy’s lips and he tried to bring his thighs together, but Lucas’s bulk had them pinned apart. “No, no, pleasepleaseplease don’t do this, Lucas.” Clancy’s whimpered, breathy and high pitched. He let his head fall back on the ground so he wouldn’t have to watch Lucas’s next move, and his eyes stared at the ceiling. “But you’re my girlfriend, remember? This is how the game works.” Lucas said. He grinned as if he knew his excuse was total bullshit. He reached down slowly to further push Clancy’s thighs apart, and then quickly slid between them. He lifted the other’s legs so they rested on his hips. “Don’t!” Clancy cried when he heard the unmistakable sound of Lucas spitting into his palm. He heard the other man fumble for a moment, making brief wet noises as he presumably brought himself to a full erection. The suspense made Clancy ill but he couldn’t bear to look up. He stiffened, his body tightening and clenching, when he felt a pressure nudge against his asshole. “Oh god, oh fuck.” Clancy bit down harder on his lip as he braced for the pain he knew was coming. Lucas hadn’t prepped him, and Clancy had never been with a man. The only lube Clancy got was Lucas’s spit, which would have dried already. He didn’t know what to expect, but it surely wasn’t anything good. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as Clancy’s teeth pierced his lip.Lucas gave a brief half-chuckle as he held Clancy’s hips to steady himself, and thrust his whole length inside in one hard movement. Clancy threw his head back and screamed. The pain, like a heated brand pulled straight from a fire, split him in two. The initial thrust had been too fast, too forceful, too dry, and now Clancy’s ass burned where it was likely torn.“Oh, shit, you’re really fuckin’ tight.” Lucas commented breathily. He only stilled for a moment as he adjusted to the tight heat. “I knew you were special.”Tears rolled down Clancy’s cheeks even though his eyes were squeezed shut. Lucas pulled out completely after a few seconds, and then slammed back in Clancy’s shaking body before the smaller man had even recovered from the first thrust. Clancy screamed again, his shoulders thrashing and the pain of his hand long forgotten. “Stop, please, stop, it hurts- fuck!” Clancy’s head turned quickly from side to side, his cheeks wet and lips bloody. Lucas did stop again, but only for another moment, to admire the mess he had created of Clancy. But the respite was brief and Lucas resumed his movements in a matter of seconds. “Keep begging, I like it when they cry.” Lucas growled breathily. Each erratic jerk of his hips was pure agony, and Clancy cried out every time his captor aggressively slammed in. Eventually the rhythm became smoother as Clancy’s blood slicked the passage. Their bodies rocked together on the floor to the pace of Lucas’s thrusts.This continued for what felt like an eternity, until Lucas abruptly stopped for an unknown reason. Clancy had stopped struggling and making noise, and now lay unresponsive with unfocused eyes. When he felt Lucas still, he wondered if he had made it to the end of the ordeal, if he had maybe slipped away during some of it. But then Lucas spoke. “It’s no fun when you lay there like a mannequin.” Lucas tapped his chin in mock thought. “I got it!” He exclaimed as a dark look passed over his gaze. He slid out of Clancy but still hovered over him. “Get up.” “Mhnn, what?” Clancy looked at Lucas in frightened confusion as his brain struggled to pull itself together again. Lucas jumped to his feet, his still erect cock bobbing from the movement. He reached down and grabbed Clancy by the shirt before hauling him to his feet as well. “No, no more, please. I can’t.” Clancy begged, stumbling on shaky legs, as Lucas began dragging him towards the stove. Pain shot through his rear whenever he put pressure on his legs, and so it was a relief when he was shoved against the stove, his back to Lucas. Clancy’s limp prick was squished between his body and the stove, since Lucas forcefully pressed himself against Clancy to hold him still. “What are you doing?” Clancy asked with a shaky voice. Once again his hands were crushed between his own body and Lucas’s. “Giving you a little spark…” Lucas answered with a devious laugh. With one hand he reached in front of Clancy and turned the knob on the stove, and the flame immediately came to life. He returned that hand to Clancy’s hip, and used his other hand to hold the back of Clancy’s neck. Lucas steadied Clancy before sliding his length back into him. This time, Clancy only grimaced and clenched his teeth. His ass was raw and chafed from the relentless slam of Lucas’s hips, and he could feel the blood still oozing from his insides. His whole body throbbed in misery. The cameraman felt his stomach churn in miserable dread as Lucas’s hand on his neck started to press down. The Baker was starting to push Clancy towards the flame as he bent him over the stove. When Clancy realized what Lucas was trying to do, his pleas from earlier resurfaced. “Don’t! Lucas, please! Why are you doing this?” He resisted as hard as he could, but with his arms bound and legs weak he had little to no support. His stomach muscles only held him up for a moment before Lucas’s strength won out. As soon as Clancy gave in and his chest touched the stove, Lucas folded himself over the cameraman to hold him down with his weight. Pain rocketed through his wounds. Lucas’s hand remained on Clancy’s neck while the other had dropped to squeeze the flesh on Clancy’s thigh. At first the warmth of the flame was comforting, but then when Clancy couldn’t move, it began to burn. His body jerked on instinct, to get away from the fire, but he was securely held in place by the man on top of him. There was no escape from the hungry fire below him.“Lucas, let me up!” Clancy pleaded as the flames licked his stomach, searing stripes of hot flesh. The pain was building as the fire began to damage his skin and his flesh began to blister. It stung, it bit, it clawed. There were knives in his stomach, broken glass, acid. The pain was overwhelming, swallowing him, consuming him. He still twitched and spasmed underneath Lucas, but he was simply not strong enough to lift himself away from the flame. Instead he was forced into stillness, trapped between the spear inside him and the fire that dug into him.Finally Clancy screamed, his throat hoarse from when he had cried out many times earlier. The stabbing heat had spread through his whole body, pinpointed to where his stomach was held against the stove. Lucas had stopped erratically thrusting and instead buried himself as deep as he could go inside Clancy’s body. The larger man was groaning as his orgasm approached. He put one hand on Clancy’s hip and ground into the tight passage. Lucas’s cock bumped something inside Clancy that made the cameraman howl and thrash, and so Lucas slammed against the spot over and over. Clancy’s body vibrated underneath him in pure exhaustion and abuse, from unwanted and overwhelming pleasure, from agonizing pain. Finally, Lucas gave one last thrust of his hips before spilling his seed inside of Clancy. The Baker rode out his orgasm with a slow grind, moaning into the nape of Clancy’s neck. Clancy was still screaming when Lucas turned off the fire and pulled him back up by his hair. Lucas was panting heavily, biting and sucking at Clancy’s neck again. He remained inside Clancy while the satisfaction of the fuck began to fade. Lucas put his hand over Clancy’s burn, which was raw, bleeding and bubbling. Clancy sobbed. Finally Lucas pulled out and turned Clancy around. The cameraman’s eyes were hazy as tears poured down his cheeks, his lips bloody and scabbed from being bitten. His abused body trembled in shock from the torture it had endured. Lucas thought it was beautiful. “Just kill me.” Clancy whispered without lifting his eyes from the floor. He hurt so much, inside and outside, and he didn’t think he could live with these memories. He just wanted the agony in his mind and body to stop. “Please, Lucas, kill me.” He was sorry for ever trying to escape, for ever agreeing to come to this place. “But Clancy, I can’t kill you just yet! Didn’t you have fun? We still have so many more games to play. I really enjoyed that, I want to see what else you have to offer.”Clancy cried out in distress and he shook his head rapidly. No, no, no, nonononono. His vision swam and shook around him. His world was closing in. Slowly, he shut his eyes and let the darkness take him. As Lucas stepped away and Clancy’s broken body hit the floor, he heard one last thing before his consciousness faded into black. “Happy Birthday.”
10165661	What Happens by Accident	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Roy Mustang, Edward Elric", "Fandom": "Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by pyrrhical (anoyo)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2008-04-27T00:00:00", "words": "1,102", "Additional Tags": "Time Piece, Second Person, First Person, intentional tense changes, Roy POV, Spoilers: 2003 Anime", "Relationship": "Edward Elric/Roy Mustang", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Time Pieces", "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 }	Time Piece 1 Sarah McLachlan Building a Mystery You come out at night -- that's when the energy calls. It almost seemed like a bizarre twist of fate. Or perhaps that Xing thing -- Yin-Yang. Dark and light, but little pieces of each. A perfect fit. A horribly perverse fit. Asymmetrical, but still understandable.Like a Circle.One bright like the sun, but with darkness clinging heavily to his heart.The other, embracing his darkness, more subdued, but with a secret light. And dangerous, secret light. You all look beautiful -- a beautiful fucked up man. They were fit pieces of one another. Swap a tiny bit, and then they were monotoned. Dull.Lifeless.That separate little spark was everything, and it was how they fit.That's how everyone fits: you find what completes your imperfection, and an imperfection you can complete, and then you just go with it.That's life. Full of life. Time Piece 2 Megumi Hayashibara Extrication Youthful energy, youthful outlook -- so optimistic, so brilliant. A bright future.And why not? Isn't that the one things a teenager should never lose? Their indomitable spirit -- their feeling of invincibility? Let the adults hold monopoly on pessimism and collective anguish, and spend at least a third of your life living it. You've got plenty of time to see the light.So why not be the light? And many, many, until I reach my passionate vision -- I want to keep on trying. At least for a time, anyway. Keep believing that dreams are attainable. Keep dreaming that your dreams are just outside your grasp, and you're moving ever closer every day.Don't see life as just one more day gone between you and death: make it one more day gone between you and birth.Let the pessimism come later. Time Piece 3 Faith Hill Love Is a Sweet Thing He was sittin' on the corner with a bottle of beer. You ask me how it happened? I'll probably laugh and tell you I don't know.You ask me why it happened? I'll punch you in the face.Love doesn't make a person mellow, dammit. Don't make that mistake twice. The bruises don't look so great with your complexion. It's everywhere you look if you look hard enough; it's really not too hard to see. One day I was walking along, minding my own business. The next, there was no pitter-patter, no doves flying, no small animals following me around singing and calling for my prince. Instead, there was a bad mission, a bad mood, and a couch.Not so romantic, I know, but you win some, you lose some, right?Karma?Well, something like that.Who'd have known that an imperfect moment can lead to perfection? I certainly didn't. I mean, alchemy has to be perfect, right? Or else you get the wrong result?Isn't love just pheromones? A different kind of alchemy? A different kind of reaction?Apparently there are exceptions. Time Piece 4 Iron and Wine Fever Dream When you're little, and you get sick, your mom sits next to your bed with a rag and a cool hand. She comforts you, coos, makes it better. Being sick sucks, but your memories of it don't. In fact, they're almost calming.Because you're taken care of, aren't you? That being taken care of earlier in life helps you know how to take care of others, later in life, doesn't it? As sure as tomorrow will come. So you learn how to take care of others by being taken care of, just as you learn how to protect yourself by being protected. But what happens when you don't have those examples? Those little poster boards of, "This is how to insert daily living here!"You could be philosophical and say that then you develop a different way of doing things, and life straightens out.Or you could say that you don't much know how to do it.And then someone else steps in.You didn't have anyone to take care of you for most of your life, but as sure as I live, there's someone now.So relax. Here's a cold rag. It's for your head.I'm not saddened you didn't know that.Because I'll teach you.Because that's what I'm here for: you. Time Piece 5 Savatage Chance He was standing all alone, trying to find the words to say, when every prayer he ever prayed was gone. I always laughed when I read those pieces in my schooling: the torn lovers, kept apart, never to be allowed to be together.I always laughed. I thought, "Well, that's ridiculous. If they really want to be together, they can find a way. That's love, right?" I had a wonderful example of love, growing up: my own parents. They loved one another so much that they left their families to be nearly penniless to be together. And then, when one died, the other followed. That's how love works. It's a sacrifice. But if it's true, if it's love, then that's all that matters, right?I don't laugh anymore. I'll be back again. See the people standing in a row? See them nodding like a field of grain? No one sees the sickle coming across the plain. It's not so funny when it's you. It's not family rules, duties, or anything like that what keeps us apart. If it were that, I could deal with it. I could smite it. I could smoke it.But it's not. You're gone. Not just on a journey, not just a few leagues away: out-and-out completely up and fucking vanished. Al said something about the Gate. That Rose saw it. That you vanished.Well, hell. Doesn't that just make me feel like maybe what you laugh at really does come back to haunt you. I should probably take an itinerary of all the things I've scoffed over the years.Maybe not. Maybe that's not feasible.And maybe this just isn't funny. At fucking all. Staring at his inhibitions, believing that it all came down to nothing but this chance. I fear you. Your silence. Your blindness. See what you want to see. I realized it a while ago. That I loved you, that is. I know, how crazy, I can admit it.Well, it's easy to admit things that are useless, isn't it? In hindsight? When you know that no matter what you admit, it doesn't make a difference? No ill effects?I thought to myself, "When this is all over, then I can let myself live. Love. Love you."Maybe I wasn't right. Maybe this is funny.So fucking funny.
10295408	pusiste este hechizo en	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne", "Fandom": "One Direction (Band)", "Language": "Español", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by ValerieHell", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-14T00:00:00", "words": "6,707", "Additional Tags": "Quidditch, Alternative Universe - Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Girl Direction, Fluff, Gender or Sex Swap, Ravenclaw Harry, Slytherin Louis", "Relationship": "Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Colección de traducciones", "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 }	Como Harry esperaba, encuentra a Louis afuera del castillo, volando sobre el campo.La chica mayor no nota la presencia de Harry de inmediato, demasiado ocupada atrapando la Snitch, así que Harry se sienta en el césped y saca su libro de Aritmancia para pasar el rato. Pasa la hoja en la que metió su amado marca páginas (algo que Louis le hizo por su primer aniversario unos meses atrás) y comienza a leer para la clase que tendrá esa tarde.Es calmante, estudiar afuera. El castillo puede ser demasiado ruidoso a veces—la sala común de su Casa usualmente está llena de estudiantes jóvenes que tienen mucho menos trabajo que los de quinto y séptimo, y estudiar en el dormitorio no es de ayuda desde que Harry tiende a quedarse dormida en su cama, los libros abiertos y la tinta manchándole las sabanas si se duerme en el medio de la escritura de un ensayo de quince pies. El Gran Comedor es igual de ruidoso, siempre lleno de actividad, e incluso la biblioteca puede ser un mal lugar para estudiar a esta hora. La atmósfera está muy cargada del inminente terror y desesperanza de estudiantes matándose en el proceso de estudiar para los exámenes. Eso vuelve absolutamente loca a Harry.Suspirando, pasa la página y pone su dedo contra la tinta desvanecida en las notas alrededor del papel. Antes, ella solía estudiar cerca del lago o bajo uno de los arboles gigantes donde es más pacífico, con sólo las risas de grupos de amigos y conversaciones susurradas entre amantes molestándola. Pero desde que ella y Louis empezaron a salir—hace un año y medio—Harry se encontró a sí misma más atraída al campo de Quidditch cuando sale a leer un poco. Lo que no es para nada malo, porque no hay nadie en el campo a excepción de cuando hay prácticas y partidos. Perfecto para estudiar, piensa Harry.Hay un zumbido de aire y luego el sonido del césped siendo pisado llega a sus oídos. Levanta la mirada y ve a Louis caminando hacia ella, piel brillando por el sudor. El cabello corto se escapa de su moña en mechones desordenados alrededor de su rostro. Luce tan hermosa como siempre, las líneas de su cara afiladas pero suaves al mismo tiempo, el sol de media mañana besando su piel con oro y volviendo sus ojos azules incluso más brillantes.El corazón de Harry se salta un latido como siempre que Louis le sonríe.Ella cierra el libro suavemente y lo pone a un lado, sonriéndole de vuelta a la Buscadora de Slytherin. —Hola.Los ojos de Louis están arrugados en las esquinas por la fuerza de su sonrisa, y se deja caer de espaldas en el césped, los brazos y piernas abiertas. Respira un poco pesado, el pecho subiendo y bajando con obviedad, y sus ojos se cierran, las pestañas rozando el inicio de sus mejillas. Su Nimbus yace a sus pies, y su puño derecho está cerrado con fuerza. Harry apenas puede distinguir las alas doradas entre sus dedos.—¿Atrapaste la Snitch, entonces? —pregunta, moviéndose para acostarse también. Se gira a su lado para ver el rostro de Louis, queriendo acurrucarse contra su novia y abrazarse, tal vez ofrecerle un masaje de espalda y hombros (entre otras… partes del cuerpo) para que se pueda relajar.Louis ha estado entrenando durante las últimas semanas, armando la estrategia del partido final de la temporada escolar para la Copa de Quidditch. A Harry le preocupa un poco que pueda extralimitarse a sí misma. No por primera vez, desea que puedan estar en la misma Casa para así poder cuidar de Louis mejor y asegurarse que ella se está cuidando, de la misma forma en que Louis cuida de Harry y se asegura de que tome descansos cuando está estudiando intensamente.—Por supuesto que lo hice —dice Louis en respuesta a su pregunta, ojos abriéndose mientras levanta su mano cerrada. La mueve cuidadosamente para que la Snitch quede atrapada entre su índice y pulgar, la luz del sol reflejando su superficie dorada—. Quiero que Slytherin gane este año la Copa de Quidditch. Es mi último año y no me iré sin un título bajo mi cinturón. Lo siento, bebé —ella dice lo último con una sonrisa pequeña, casi arrepentida, dirigida a Harry.Harry sólo ríe. —Dile eso a Zayn, no a mí.Louis gruñe ante el recordatorio. —Cierto. Zayn. Gracias a Merlín ella no es la Buscadora o este partido bien podría acabar con nuestros siete años de amistad —parpadea hacia Harry, sus labios fruncidos en una pequeña mueca que Harry quiere besar—. El equipo de Ravenclaw se ve bien, también. Ahora que lo pienso, yo podría ser la única jugadora competente en Slytherin.Harry deja salir un sonido solidario pero asiente en concordancia. Louis es la mayor razón por la que Slytherin ha llegado tan lejos—siempre se las arregla para atrapar la Snitch justo a tiempo, cuando la tensión es alta y las puntuaciones muy cerradas, y usualmente, los toma a todos por sorpresa.—Nuestros Cazadores son buenos, sí. Aparte de Zayn, están Jade y Leigh-Anne. Eleanor es una buena Guardián, también. No estoy muy segura de los Bateadores, sin embargo. Y no le digas a Perrie, pero tú eres, definitivamente, mejor Buscadora.Louis asiente, sus cejas juntas. Aun luce preocupada a pesar del cumplido que Harry le acaba de dar. —Al menos tengo a Jesy. Y Josh. Los otros... no creo que sean tan serios en lo de querer ganar como yo.Harry se sienta y se acerca a Louis. —No pienses mucho en eso, ¿sí? Te estas estresando demasiado —ella frunce el ceño un poco, preocupada—. Incluso te perdiste el almuerzo hoy.Ante eso, Louis sonríe arrepentidamente. —Lo siento.En vez de responder, Harry se mueve un poco más cerca hasta que está sobre la otra chica. Louis levanta su mano libre, poniendo algo del cabello de Harry detrás de su oreja antes de acunar su mejilla. Harry se acaricia contra la palma, antes de girar su cabeza y besar la piel allí. —No te disculpes. Entiendo cuánto significa esto para ti. Solo quiero que te cuides, ¿sí?—Lo haré —dice Louis, y su voz es suave ahora, casi un susurro—. Hey, ¿me das un beso?Harry presiona un beso más contra la piel de la palma de Louis antes de que ella se incline hacia abajo para uno más adecuado, sus labios contra los de Louis de una manera fácil y familiar. Siente que la mano de Louis se mueve hasta su cintura, enrollándose alrededor de la túnica escolar y tirando de ella hasta que Harry capta el mensaje, cambiando de posición hasta que está a horcajadas de Louis. Es perfectamente consciente de que están en el exterior, en el medio del día, pero realmente no le importa por el momento. Ha pasado tanto tiempo desde que tocó a Louis de esta manera, las dos bastante ocupadas con la escuela y el Quidditch para tener tiempo sólo para ellas, y su cuerpo se ilumina rápidamente con el tacto de la chica mayor.Abre su boca ante el toque de la lengua de Louis, haciendo un sonido que es algo así como un gemido cuando Louis la acerca. Harry tira de la túnica de Slytherin, estremeciéndose cuando Louis le muerde el labio inferior. Puede sentir que el brazo de Louis se desliza furtivamente alrededor de su cintura, y entonces su mundo gira mientras Louis las voltea, su mano acunando la parte de atrás de su cabeza suavemente para que ella no se golpee contra el suelo.Las piernas de Harry se separan fácilmente para que Louis se ajuste entre ellas, la boca se separa en un jadeo mientras la chica mordisquea suavemente un lado de su cuello. Los ojos de Harry se cierran, y empieza a preguntarse si pueden echarse un rapidito sin ser atrapadas cuando Louis se aparta bruscamente, maldiciendo fuertemente.—¡La Snitch!Harry parpadea, ligeramente aturdida. —¿Qué?—Olvidé que estaba sosteniendo la Snitch y se escapó —exclama Louis, aunque hay algo de risa en su voz.Harry, a pesar de ser interrumpida en el calor del momento, se encuentra riéndose. —Supongo que tienes que ir a atraparla de nuevo, entonces.Louis levanta una ceja, sonriendo maliciosamente. —¿Una carrera?—Sabes que apenas puedo equilibrarme en una escoba —dice Harry, inexpresiva.Louis se ríe, fuerte y brillante y maravillosa. Harry está tan enamorada. * * * Harry todavía recuerda estar sentada en las gradas a mitad de su segundo año, viendo a Slytherin contra Gryffindor. Había sido uno de los partidos más intensos que ha visto en sus cinco años en Hogwarts, la tensión aumentada sólo por la rivalidad de larga data entre las dos Casas.Al principio había estado dispuesta a apoyar a Gryffindor desde que Niall (una Hufflepuff en su año con quien comparte algunas clases) le había dicho que Liam Payne, una de las Bateadoras de Gryffindor, era su amiga. Así que Harry salió al campo, lista para animar junto con el mar de estudiantes rojos agitando una bandera gigante de un león rugiente.Pero entonces.Pero entonces vio a Louis saliendo al campo, luciendo fuerte y confiada en sus túnicas verdes, y bien. Resultó que Harry estaría animando, no junto los estudiantes en rojo, sino más bien con los estudiantes de verde sosteniendo un estandarte de una serpiente plateada enrollada y lista para atacar, en su lugar.Durante todo el partido, sus ojos estuvieron pegados en la Buscadora de Slytherin, observando como esquivaba las Bludgers y volaba alrededor del campo en busca de la Snitch. Louis siempre ha sido increíble de ver, es la cosa, incluso en ese entonces. El enfoque y la determinación en su rostro eran claros, pero al mismo tiempo, ella tenía esta sonrisa que parecía grabada permanentemente en su rostro que mostraba que de verdad disfrutaba estar ahí fuera, los labios siempre se alzaban en las esquinas, incluso cuando una Bludger volaba en su camino. Hay una cierta elegancia en ella también, algo casi sin esfuerzo en la forma en que montaba su Nimbus y maniobraba su camino alrededor del campo.Harry recuerda que contuvo la respiración cada vez que alguien apuntaba una Bludger a Louis, recuerda murmurar y soltar alientos bajo su respiración cada vez que la cara de Louis se iluminaba como si hubiera visto la Snitch, recuerda haber oído decir que Slytherin había marcado un tanto.Y, sobre todo, recuerda el momento en que tuvo contacto visual directo con Louis.Todo lo que hizo fue parpadear un segundo, y de repente la Snitch estaba justo allí, frente a ella, las alas de oro revoloteando. Ella jadeó, y luego un segundo más tarde Louis estaba allí también, con la mano cerrada alrededor de la Snitch y—Y eso fue todo.Juego terminado.Harry se había quedado mirando asombrada, con los ojos muy abiertos mientras observaba a Louis, que aún se mantenía en silencio frente a ella. Louis le había devuelto la mirada por un momento, y Harry recuerda que quería memorizar el color de sus ojos, la tonalidad exacta de azul, por si acaso nunca llegaban a interactuar de nuevo. Se siente un poco como cada cliché que Harry ha leído en los libros de muggles con los que creció, de los cuentos de hadas que Anne le leía por las noches a las novelas de adultos jóvenes que se robaba de la estantería de Gemma a la edad de once años. Segundos que se extienden en minutos, el resto del mundo gritando en una pausa, como si estuviera bajo un hechizo.Lo cual, ahora que piensa en ello, no está demasiado lejos. La magia es real, después de todo.Y entonces Louis le guiñó un ojo, rompiendo el hechizo y poniendo todo en movimiento, antes de volar y dejar a Harry enrojecida y sólo un poco sin aliento.Harry pensó que esa sería la primera y última vez que Louis Tomlinson la miraría, pero estaba equivocada. Como resultado, Louis y Zayn (una mestiza y Cazadora de Ravenclaw dos años por encima de Harry, de quien ella logró hacerse amiga al iniciar una conversación sobre autores muggles una tarde, cuando la chica mayor había entrado en la sala común y vio a Harry acurrucada frente a la chimenea, sosteniendo una colección de cuentos de hadas de los Hermanos Grimm) habían sido buenas amigas desde el primer año a pesar de estar en diferentes Casas. Zayn introdujo a Louis y a Harry un día, Harry había dejado escapar algo vagamente embarazoso sobre lo asombrosa que pensaba que Louis estuvo en el partido el otro día, y Louis le había sonreído, del tipo que hacía sus ojos arrugarse en las esquinas.Y eso fue todo.* * Louis se presenta a desayunar dos días antes del partido con el pelo más corto.Como, muy corto.—Pensé que no me arriesgaría a que se metiera en mi cara mientras volaba —dice ella en respuesta a la pregunta que nadie hizo realmente, pero Harry sabe que Louis sabe que todo el mundo está pensando, antes de deslizarse en el espacio vacío al lado de Harry.Todas tienen esta rutina ahora, ya que las cinco son de diferentes Casas, rotan de mesa todos los días. Todo el mundo se ha acostumbrado a ello, aunque algunos de los de primer año todavía les lanzan miradas confusas siempre que Niall se sienta al lado de Harry en la mesa de Ravenclaw y la saluda con un muy fuerte, —¡Wey hey, buen día, Hazza!Hoy están en la mesa de Gryffindor, y Liam está mirando el pelo de Louis en confusión, sus gruesas cejas fruncidas. Zayn simplemente sonríe en su copa de jugo de calabaza mientras Niall silba fuertemente. —Realmente te tomas en serio eso de ganar esta cosa —antes de volver a devorar su tercer trozo de pastel de carne.Harry, por su parte, no puede dejar de mirar a Louis. No es ni siquiera que se vea mal, porque no lo hace. Realmente, no lo hace. Louis todavía se ve tan impresionante como siempre, su flequillo cubre su frente y ella lo mueve un poco con dedos hábiles (Harry sabría de primera mano lo hábiles que son) y las puntas curvándose sólo un poco en la mitad de su nuca. Todo lo demás está perfectamente recortado, justo debajo de su oreja, y hace que se vea mayor. Más madura. Harry siente un tirón de excitación en la boca de su estómago.Pero la cosa es… es lo que Niall dijo. Louis se toma muy en serio el ganar la Copa de Quidditch. Harry ya estaba lo suficientemente dividida sobre a quién apoyar en el juego final, porque es un partido entre su Casa y la de su novia, pero ahora se intensifica porque puede decir que Louis realmente quiere esto y Harry no quiere nada más que Louis sea feliz.Sin embargo, al mismo tiempo, ella también quiere permanecer leal a su Casa y espera que Zayn gane. Ni siquiera puede empezar a imaginar cómo Louis y Zayn deben estarse sintiendo en este momento, ambas Capitanas de sus equipos y las dos en su último año. Debe ser increíblemente estresante.Louis observa a Harry mirándola fijamente, y se mueve un poco, pareciendo consciente de sí misma ahora. Pasa los dedos por su flequillo otra vez, antes de apartarlo de su frente y ríe nerviosamente. —Um, ¿no te gusta?Harry parpadea, sacudiendo la cabeza y sonriendo. —No, lo amo. Tú... te ves genial.Al otro lado de la mesa, Niall bufa. —Louis siempre se ve bien para ti.Harry se sonroja, ligeramente ofendida en nombre de Louis. —Discúlpame, Niall, pero Louis es una de las personas más impresionantes que esta escuela ha-Es cortada por Niall riendo en voz alta, y Harry se siente un poco molesta. Ella se calma cuando Louis la empuja contra su lado, sin embargo, presionando un beso contra su sien y murmurando, —Gracias, nena —en su oído, la voz lo suficientemente suave para que sólo Harry oyera.Harry gira su cabeza para un beso, uno que Louis le da con gusto.—Por favor, no empiecen a besuquearse mientras estamos sentadas en la mesa de mi Casa —dice Liam, y Harry tiene la sensación de que ni siquiera las mira.Louis tararea contra los labios de Harry antes de retirarse, sonriendo a Liam por la cabeza de Harry. —¿Celosa, Payno?Liam se burla, pero cuando Harry se vuelve para mirar, ella puede ver que la Gryffindor está luchando con una sonrisa cariñosa. Es una batalla perdida y Harry conoce la sensación demasiado bien. Todas están un poco embelesadas con Louis, para ser honesta. Es realmente imposible no estarlo.—Mejor que estés preparada, Malik —dice Louis después de un rato, extendiéndose sobre la mesa para poder picar a su mejor amiga con su tenedor.Zayn sólo sonríe. —Oh, lo estamos. La verdadera pregunta es, ¿lo están ustedes?Louis resopla. —Esa Snitch es mía y lo sabes.—Puedes quedártela —dice Zayn, agitando una mano—. Nosotros queremos la Copa—Eso también.Niall golpea la mano sobre la mesa, haciendo que todos en un radio de cinco metros salten de sus asientos y las fulminen con la mirada. La Hufflepuff no parece molesta en lo más mínimo, sin embargo, su sonrisa sólo se intensifica cuando dice, —¡Predicción del partido! Ravenclaw ganará, pero Louis atrapará la Snitch.Liam alza una ceja, una sonrisa tirando de sus labios. —¿Quieres apostar por eso?Lo que de alguna manera conduce a Niall a sacar un rollo de pergamino aparentemente de la nada, mientras que los estudiantes de todas las Casas pululan alrededor de ella, escribiendo apuestas sobre el resultado del partido. Zayn parece un poco sorprendida, mientras que Liam acaba de sacar una bolsa, también de la nada, para comenzar a recoger Sickles.Louis golpea el hombro de Harry. —¿Quieres venir al campo conmigo?Harry mira hacia el caos que ahora ocurre en la mesa y toma una decisión rápida. —Por supuesto. * Ver a Louis volar le quita el aliento cada vez.Ella se ve tan libre, como si estuviera completamente en su elemento. Como si realmente perteneciera allí en los cielos, siendo una con las nubes y los pájaros y la luz del sol, alguien a quien mirar y adorar. La forma en que su cuerpo se mueve sin esfuerzo, la forma en que la luz del sol pinta sobre su piel ya dorada, la forma en que el aire parece llevarla—todo eso hace que Harry quiera ver a Louis así todo el tiempo.Y lo que es aún mejor es que llega a unirse a Louis allá arriba a veces, igual que hoy.A Harry no le gusta mucho volar, para ser honesta. Aunque todos sus amigos juegan en los equipos de sus respectivas Casas (Liam es un Bateadora de Gryffindor y Niall Guardián de Hufflepuff), Harry siempre ha preferido ver en su lugar. El deporte nunca ha sido lo suyo, a pesar de que ya sabe cada regla por todos los partidos en los que ha estado ("Con mi conocimiento y comprensión del juego de Quidditch, siento que debería ser mucho mejor en Quidditch" dijo una vez a Louis después de que las cinco decidieron tirar una Quaffle alrededor mientras estaban a veinte pies en el aire, "pero no lo soy.").También está el hecho de que Harry tiene la gracia de un centauro recién nacido la mayoría de los días. Es bastante difícil para ella equilibrarse en tierra y, honestamente, no tiene intenciones de hacerlo en el aire.Pero con Louis detrás de ella, sólo se siente... segura. Protegida. Como si fuera invencible.Con ese pensamiento en mente, Harry balancea su pierna derecha sobre la escoba de Louis, a horcajadas sobre ella. Se aferra fuertemente al mango, con los dedos enrollados alrededor de la lisa madera. Segundos después, siente a Louis deslizándose detrás de ella, los brazos apoyados en sus caderas para mantener sus manos firmes, pequeñas pero con talento, cerrándose sobre sus puños con un toque que es a la vez guiador y tranquilizador.—¿Lista? —pregunta Louis, el aliento le hace cosquillas en la nuca (tuvo que ponerse todo el pelo en un moño) y hacerla temblar. Asiente con la cabeza una vez como confirmación, sus ojos se cierran cuando se siente a Louis presionar un beso suave contra un lado de su cuello.Entonces, siente el pequeño cambio cuando Louis dobla las rodillas y se prepara, y entonces la chica mayor patea el suelo, y están en el aire.El primer segundo de estar en el aire siempre saca el aliento de Harry, el viento soplando más allá de su cara, como una ráfaga en sus oídos. Se vuelve más fácil una vez que agarran un ritmo suave, sin embargo, simplemente flotando sin rumbo fijo mientras Louis la mantiene a salvo en sus brazos.Harry ama estos momentos con Louis. Mirando abajo y alrededor de ella, tiene una extraña sensación de serenidad que no es exactamente como la sensación de estar en su estudio en casa, rodeada de estantes y estantes de libros. Tal vez tiene algo que ver con sentir paz, aunque esté completamente fuera de su elemento. O tal vez es debido a la presencia guiadora de Louis.Muchas cosas en su vida son por culpa de Louis, piensa Harry.Aterrizan después de un tiempo, y Louis de alguna manera convence a Harry para volar en una escoba por separado. Harry ha hecho esto sólo un puñado de veces fuera de las clases requeridas cuando aún estaba en su primer año, pero sabe que Louis no permitirá que nada le suceda, así que accede.Con un movimiento de varita y un hechizo rápido, la escoba de repuesto de Louis viene volando hacia ellas. Louis ayuda a Harry a subirse primero, y luego con una respiración profunda, patean el suelo y se elevan una vez más.Volar por su cuenta es muy diferente. Por un lado, no hay nadie que la guíe, sin brazos que la mantengan firme, sin agarre firme sobre el suyo en la empuñadura, sin presencia sólida detrás de ella para recordarle que no va a caerse. Sin embargo, de alguna manera todavía se siente segura, conectada con Louis incluso, mientras ve a la chica mayor volar un poco delante de ella.La pequeña sonrisa que Louis lanza sobre su hombro hace que Harry ría. —¡Te ves bien!Harry sonríe, lo suficientemente ancho como para sentir los hoyuelos en sus mejillas. —Gracias.No están volando tan alto, Louis mantiene su ritmo lento y constante, porque sabe que así es que Harry se siente cómoda. El pecho de Harry florece con calor y amor.Louis decide presumir un poco (no es que ella lo necesite, honestamente, Harry ya está muy impresionada sólo por su mera existencia), volando un poco más alto y haciendo giros y giros. Harry se ríe, y luego un segundo más tarde, Louis está ahí, flotando boca abajo justo delante de ella.El aliento de Harry se atasca poco en su garganta.Louis le sonríe, suave y cariñosa, antes de preguntar, —¿Beso de Spiderman?Harry de alguna manera consigue estrechar los ojos juguetonamente a la chica mayor, incluso mientras su ritmo cardíaco se acelera. —Zayn te ha estado mostrando sus cómics, ya veo.—Y las películas también —dijo Louis, todavía boca abajo—. La cultura Muggle es muy interesante.—¿Quizás te gustaría venir a mi casa este verano, entonces? —Harry pregunta. Es completamente inesperado, sorprendente incluso para sí misma.Louis parece que tampoco lo vio venir, sus ojos se ensancharon ligeramente. —¿Lo dices en serio?Y ahora que Harry piensa en ello—imagina a Louis sentada en el salón de su casa acurrucada en el sofá mientras las películas de Marvel se ven en su tele, o tal vez incluso en su computadora portátil (Harry tiene lo mejor de ambos mundos, en realidad), imagina el pasear en Holmes mientras sostiene la mano de Louis y acaba de mostrarle a la chica mayor cómo es la vida Muggle—más le atrae la idea.Introducir a Louis a su mundo, a su familia—Harry se encuentra sonriendo al pensarlo.—Sí —deja salir un aliento—. Es en serio.Louis sonríe. —Está bien entonces. Me encantaría ir.Y entonces Louis se inclina y la besa, al revés y todo. Se siente un poco algo como fuegos artificiales, Harry piensa. * —¡Por aquí, Harry! —grita Niall, agitando los brazos en el aire, junto a ella está Liam, sus ojos fijos en el campo, esperando a que los jugadores salgan. Harry piensa que es un poco extraño ver algo de amarillo y rojo en un mar de azul. Ambas sostienen banderines de Ravenclaw.—Las dos están aquí —dice cuando finalmente llega con ellas.Niall sonríe y alza un pulgar mientras Liam asiente, seria. —No quiero ofender a Louis, ya que probablemente sea la mejor Buscadora que esta escuela ha visto desde Harry Potter, pero estoy con Ravenclaw.—¿Qué te hizo cambiar de opinión? —pregunta Harry, recordando su conversación en el desayuno el otro día, donde precia que la Gryffindor apostaba a que Slytherin ganaría la Copa de Quidditch.—Devine se lesionó en la práctica de ayer y tuvieron que reemplazarlo con Lucas —responde Liam, encogiéndose de hombros—. Lo más seguro es que Louis esté volviéndose loca.Harry se muerde el labio, preocupada por eso. No tuvo la oportunidad de ver a Louis más temprano ya que los jugadores estaban ocupados haciendo lo que sea que hacen la mañana antes de un partido. Casi ni siquiera llega a hablar con Zayn, sólo dando un rápido "buena suerte" cuando se encontraron en la salida del Gran Comedor y la Capitana de Ravenclaw tuvo que salir corriendo.Pensar en Louis estresándose en un momento como este... preocupa a Harry.Niall debe haberlo presentido, porque la Hufflepuff le pasa un brazo por los hombros y dice, —Louis lo hará bien. No puedo decir lo mismo del resto del equipo, pero ella lo hará muy bien.Harry sólo asiente, moviendo la mano para tocar el colgante de su collar. Es una "L" de plata grabada en una piedra de jade brillante, una serpiente entrelazada alrededor de la letra, algo que hizo con Louis hace sólo tres meses (Louis tiene su propio collar a juego, una "H" de bronce grabada en el centro de unas alas azules).El vitoreo se hace más fuerte, de repente, y todos bajan la vista para mirar al campo y a Madame Hooch saliendo, seguida de cerca por los jugadores de ambos equipos. Harry observa mientras Zayn y Louis caminan la una hacia la otra, y en vez de darse la mano como usualmente los Capitanes hacen antes de un partido, las dos comparten un abrazo apretado, allí en medio del campo. Chocan los puños cuando se separan, algo que Zayn probablemente le enseñó a Louis, y luego están caminando de nuevo hacia sus equipos y montando sus escobas.Todo el campo queda en silencio mientras Madame Hooch suelta la Snitch, tanto Louis como Perrie observándola volar. Las Bludgers son las siguientes en ser soltadas y luego parece que todos contienen el aliento cuando Madame Hooch sostiene la Quaffle en su mano por un segundo, observando ambos equipos, antes de lanzarla al aire.—¡Y el partido comienza! —suena la voz del narrador, Ed de Hufflepuff, y los vítores suenan de nuevo—. Ravenclaw inicia bien, Pinnock tiene la Quaffle y se la lanza a Thirlwalll… ¡oh! Smith esquiva una Blugder. Ravenclaw aún tiene el balón, Thirlwall va por un punto, avanza, lo lanza, y… ¡oh, Nelson lo tapa!Slytherin rompe en ovaciones mientras Jesy alza el puño al aire después de bloquear el tiro de Jade, mientras que Ravenclaw gime colectivamente. Harry mira las gradas por un segundo, captando a Louis flotando cerca del suelo, con los ojos moviéndose entre los jugadores y Perrie, quien está volando mucho más alto que ella.—¡Ahora Slytherin tiene el balón! Lucas tiene la Quaffle, se la está pasando a Daniels, Daniels la devuelve después de esquivar una Blugder, Lucas se prepara para tirar, Calder en guardia en la meta y… ¡Malik se roba el balón! —un gemido de Slytherin, vitoreo de Ravenclaw—. Malik se acerca a Daniels y Lucas, esquiva a Smith, esquiva otra Bludger de Hann, y ¡anota! ¡Diez puntos para Ravenclaw!Zayn choca los cinco con Leigh-Anne y Jade mientras vuela de vuelta, y Harry puede ver que lo está disfrutando. Harry grita a su amiga, poniendo sus manos alrededor de su boca y sonríe cuando Zayn le guiña un ojo.Esto continua durante los próximos minutos, y cuando Harry se fija en el marcador su Casa está liderando. Por mucho. Su primera reacción es estar encantada por eso, pero cuando vuelve su vista al campo, ve que Louis también observa el marcador, su expresión caída, y Harry siente su sonrisa desaparecer de su cara tan rápido como se había formado.Sus ojos están fijos en Louis ahora. La Buscadora de Slytherin parece volver en sí, y entonces la determinación se nota en su mandíbula. Comienza a volar alrededor del campo, sus ojos azules alertas. Pasan más minutos y parece que Louis tiene razón, ninguno de los otros Slytherin se toman en serio el título como Louis. Los Cazadores parecen haber renunciado, lo que es extraño—y muy poco Slytherin de su parte. Jesy parece ser la única tan decidida como Louis, bloqueando tantos tiros como puede y lanzando miradas acusadoras a sus compañeros de equipo.La puntuación está en 180-30, a favor de Ravenclaw.Están ganando. Los ojos de Harry vuelven a Louis, justo a tiempo para captar la sonrisa que se extiende en su rostro, y al principio, Harry está confundida porque Slytherin tendría que marcar quince tiros para ponerse al día, pero luego se da cuenta de la razón tras la sonrisa de Louis.Encontró la Snitch. Louis encontró la Snitch.Harry mira el marcador. Slytherin anotó un tanto, convirtiendo la puntuación en 180-40, y si Louis coge la Snitch ahora Slytherin ganaría por diez puntos. Harry, honestamente, no está seguro de a quién animar en este momento—ya ha captado miradas de reojo porque ha vitoreado a Slytherin unas cuantas veces, pero. Oh, bien. Harry no se preocupa por ellos ahora mismo.—¡Parece que Tomlinson halló la Snitch! —dice Ed, y Harry ve a Perrie entrar en acción—. Sí, Tomlinson ha visto la Snitch, y... ¡oh, parece que Edwards está detrás de ella!La atención de todos está en ambos Buscadoras ahora. Harry sabe lo que tiene que hacer, toma la decisión en una fracción de segundo. Las reacciones de sus compañeras de Casa serán malas. Se para un poco más alto, respira profundamente, antes de gritar: —¡VAMOS, LOUIS, VAMOS!Recibe miradas sobresaltadas de los Ravenclaw a su alrededor, y probablemente van a odiarla por esto, pero. Harry quiere que Louis atrape la Snitch. Quiere que Louis tenga esto. Niall y Liam siguen su ejemplo, gritando palabras de aliento a Louis, y Harry desvía la vista para ver cuáles son las reacciones de los Ravenclaw. La mayoría de ellos parece ligeramente molestos, pero otros parecen estar sonriendo resignadamente, como si esperaran que esto fuera a sucederOh, bien. Harry está enamorada. Demándenla.Slytherin está de pie como ellas, y Louis vuela hacia Harry, soplándole un beso. Eso, por lo menos, saca algunas risas de los Ravenclaw cerca de ella, y Harry finge atrapar el beso en su mano y posarlo en su pecho, cerca de su corazón. Escucha la risa de Louis, ahora en su elemento, mientras el juego continúa con los Cazadores tratando de arrebatar la Quaffle de los otros, los Bateadores apuntando Bludgers a sus oponentes, los Guardianes bloqueando los tiros dirigidos a sus postes.Louis es ajena a todo esto, sólo hay un objetivo en mente. Sus ojos están enfocados, una sonrisa en las comisuras de sus labios. Ella tiene esto. Harry sabe que lo tiene.Otro tanto de Slytherin. 180-50.Louis se abalanza abruptamente, dejando muy atrás a Perrie, que volaba en el aire detrás de ella. Los jadeos estallan en las gradas de Hufflepuff cuando Louis sube repentinamente delante de ellos, y Harry capta un débil resplandor dorado, volando a apenas algunos pies delante de Louis.Un tanto de Ravenclaw. 190-50.Louis se extiende, con los dedos apenas rozando la Snitch. Perrie nota lo que está pasando al mismo tiempo que los Bateadores de Ravenclaw, y entonces toda la atención está en Louis. Harry jadea cuando una Bludger se dirige a ella, y si no se mueve ahora definitivamente va a ser golpeada. Harry abre la boca para gritar una advertencia a pesar de estar muy lejos, pero luego Louis se aleja del camino a último momento.La Snitch se aleja de su alcance.Perrie está volando hacia ella de repente, su brazo estirado, pero luego Louis se dispara como una bala, haciendo que ella retire su mano. Al mismo tiempo una Bludger golpea el final de la escoba de Perrie, desequilibrándola en el medio del aire por sólo un segundo, pero es suficiente para que Louis se acerque a la Snitch.—Tomlinson se está acercando a la Snitch, la va a atrapar, la va a... esperen, esperen, Malik... ¡Malik anota! —grita Ed—. ¡200-50, para Ravenclaw!Todos se vuelven locos. Harry está a punto de sacar la mitad de su cuerpo fuera de las gradas, las manos apretando firmemente el borde de la barandilla de madera. Está saltando sobre sus pies, su sangre bombea en sus venas con fuerza, y luego ve los dedos de Louis cerrándose alrededor del resplandor dorado justo cuando Ed grita, —¡Malik anota de nuevo!Ravenclaw explota. Es ensordecedor, todo el mundo alrededor de ella grita, y apenas puede oír a Niall exclamando, —¡Te lo dije, maldita sea! ¡Te dije que Lou iba a atrapar la Snitch! —a Liam. Harry parpadea, echa un vistazo al marcador y ve los resultados finales del partido.210-200. Ravenclaw gana.Todo el mundo se abraza a su alrededor, y en el campo, los jugadores están bajando de sus escobas. Los Ravenclaw se abrazan fuertemente gritando en victoria, mientras que los Slytherin le dan palmadas en la espalda a Louis.Harry comienza a luchar para salir las gradas, liberándose del desorden de miembros, todos tan abrumados por la victoria. Harry ignora a Niall y Liam llamándola, ignora a algunos de sus amigos de Ravenclaw tratando de atraparla en un abrazo grupal, ignora las miradas molestas que obtiene de los estudiantes con los que se tropieza. Su mente concentrada en una cosa, y es llegar a Louis, llegar a Louis, llegar a Louis.Eventualmente se las arregla para bajar por las gradas y luego corre hacia el campo, hacia los jugadores vestidos con túnicas verdes. Jesy la ve primero y le lanza una sonrisa, golpeando a Louis en el hombro y señalando a Harry. Los otros Slytherin se apartan, y Harry realmente no piensa en ello cuando se lanza hacia Louis, con los brazos moviéndose para envolver los hombros de su novia.Louis la atrapa con facilidad, con los brazos alrededor de la cintura. —Hola, amor. ¡Tu Casa ganó! Harry la ignora, en su lugar dice: —Estuviste increíble ahí afuera. Fuiste tan... eres tan increíble.Hay un rubor en las mejillas de Louis, aunque Harry no puede decir si es por el cumplido o simplemente por la prisa del juego. De cualquier manera, Louis se ve increíblemente complacida, y toma la cara de Harry entre sus manos y la besa justo allí en el campo.Harry hace un ruido sordo en su garganta, pero responde al beso ansiosamente, acercando a Louis a ella y besándola con todo lo que tiene. Está sin aliento cuando se separan, las mejillas enrojecidas y los ojos bien abiertos como si ella fuera la que acaba de jugar un partido.—Te amo —jadea.Los ojos de Louis se arrugan en las esquinas con lo mucho que está sonriendo. —Yo también te amo.Zayn repentinamente aparece, entonces, arrojándose contra el lado de Louis. —¡Lo hiciste de nuevo, Tommo!Louis se ríe, apartándose de Harry por un momento para abrazar a Zayn. —¡Habla por ti misma, Zayn! Tú fuiste la que hizo el tiro final de Ravenclaw, cabrona.—Sólo tuve suerte —Zayn sonríe, sonrojándose—. Si hubiera vacilado durante un segundo, habría sido un empate.Ambos equipos se vuelven el uno al otro luego, intercambiando golpes amistosos en la espalda e incluso algunos abrazos aquí y allá. Slytherin sólo se aleja cuando Madame Hooch se acerca con la Copa de Quidditch, entregándosela a Zayn con una sonrisa.—¡El ganador de la Copa de Quidditch de este año, Ravenclaw!Fuertes gritos emergen del mar de azul, y Zayn es levantada sobre los hombros de sus compañeros de equipo mientras alza la Copa por encima de su cabeza. Harry mira todo esto desplegarse al lado del campo, una sonrisa amenazando con dividir su rostro a la mitad, los dedos de Louis entrelazados firmemente con los suyos. * *Todo el mundo está celebrando la victoria de Ravenclaw en el Gran Comedor, todos los estudiantes de todas las Casas compartiendo una fiesta. Hay música y risas fuertes, los sonidos de las copas tintineando y los tenedores chocando contra los platos que se deslizan a lo largo de los pasillos, y todo el mundo está en un estado de ánimo brillante en general.Harry y Louis eligen no participar en la celebración.En su lugar, se escapan afuera.Naturalmente, se encuentran en el campo, riendo y hablando en voz baja, aunque nadie está cerca para oírlas. Harry se deja caer sobre la hierba, acurrucándose contra el lado de Louis y parpadeando al cielo nocturno. —¿Quieres buscar constelaciones?Louis arruga la nariz. —Ah, soy una basura en Astronomía. Todas las estrellas lucen igual, para ser honesta —gira su cabeza y sonríe, el brillo en sus ojos parece más brillante que cualquier estrella por ahí, piensa Harry—. Sin embargo, ninguna de ellas es tan brillante como tú.Harry se ríe, golpeando ligeramente a la chica mayor en el hombro. —¡Estaba, literalmente, pensando en lo mismo!—¿Sí? —pregunta Louis con la risa evidente en su propia voz.—Sí —confirma Harry, dejando escapar un suspiro—. Ninguna estrella puede brillar tanto como tú.La expresión de Louis se suaviza. Empuja a Harry más cerca de si con el brazo alrededor de la cintura de la Ravenclaw, presionando un suave beso en su frente. —Debe ser una cosa de almas gemelas, entonces.El aliento de Harry se contrae ligeramente, su mano se encrespa en un puño donde descansa sobre el pecho de Louis por un segundo, antes de desenroscarla y apoyar su palma sobre el latido de la muchacha. Acaricia su rostro contra el cuello de Louis y siente que el pulso de la Slytherin vibra bajo sus labios, antes exhalar. —Sí. Debe serlo.Se oyen unos cuantos latidos de silencio, y entonces Louis dice: —Me iré pronto.Harry tararea, aunque parte de ella se siente triste por el recordatorio de que este es el último año de Louis en Hogwarts. —Aun me faltan dos años.—Te estaré esperando —dice Louis, colocando su otra mano sobre la de Harry, justo encima de su corazón.—Sé que lo harás.—¿Crees que puedo hacerlo profesionalmente? Buscadora, quiero decir.—Por supuesto —dice Harry, rápida y segura—. Eres increíble. Serías una gran jugadora profesional de Quidditch.Hay una sonrisa en los labios de Louis, pequeña pero agradecida. —Gracias, amor. ¿Qué pasa contigo? ¿Todavía quieres ser profesora aquí?—Definitivamente —responde Harry, sonriendo—. Me encantaría enseñar Encantamientos o, quizá, Transfiguración.—Zayn puede ser profesora de Pociones —reflexiona Louis.—Cierto. Pero creo que ella quiere escribir, más que nada —dice Harry.—Liam podría ser Auror, y tal vez Niall podría ser una Sanadora.Harry se ríe de eso, acurrucándose más cerca de Louis. —Sólo espero que, allá donde terminemos después de todo esto, todas sigamos siendo amigas. Las cinco.La mano de Louis la aprieta tranquilizadora y suena tan segura cuando dice: —Por supuesto.Harry elige creer eso, dejando que sus ojos se cierren, una sonrisa pequeña en sus labios. Se relaja por los sonidos de la respiración de Louis, calmada por el constante ascenso y caída del pecho de la muchacha mayor, y ella piensa, por supuesto.
10271885	Doktor Sky	{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, John Watson, Greg Lestrade, Sebastian Moran, Mrs. Hudson (Sherlock Holmes), Anthea (Sherlock), Molly Hooper, Original Characters", "Fandom": "Sherlock (TV)", "Language": "Čeština", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by elisticka96", "chapters": "13/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "25,058", "Additional Tags": "Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Eventual Happy Ending, Physical Abuse, Starvation, Torture, Action, Angst, Feelings, Medical Procedures", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson", "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 }	Celá místnost se otáčela v závratných kruzích. Ostré bílé stropní zářivky ho pálily a z jeho zarudlých očí čišely slzy schnoucí na rozpálených zpocených tvářích. Pot mu stékal z čela do vlasů a cítil, jak se mu líně sune po páteři a vpíjí se do jeho modrých boxerek.V hlavě mu dunělo a on jen tupě zíral před sebe, snažíc se rozeznat trhavě se pohybující postavu před ním. Cítil se, jakoby mu někdo nalil kyselinu do krku a vodu do plic – dýchání už bylo v tomto bodě téměř nemožné.Rychlé pípání na moment upoutalo jeho pozornost, ale ta se rychle vrátila zpět na poskakujícího člověka před ním. Připadalo mu, že k jeho nohám jsou přivázána závaží a každý další krok byl doprovázen nesnesitelnou bolestí celého unaveného těla.V nějaké vzdálené části jeho mozku si uvědomil, že je před ním obrovské zrcadlo, které sahalo od podlahu po strop a táhlo se k oběma stranám místnosti.A ta postava je jeho odraz.Už dál prostě běžet nedokázal.Levou nohou zakopl o plochu běžeckého pásu a nohy se pod ním podlomily. Něco mu nepříjemně křuplo v kotníku. Zařval, jak mu ostrá bolest prolétla celou nohou, načež se skácel obličejem směrem k zemi. Těsně předtím, než se jeho hlava setkala s podlahou, se mu kolem krku utáhl jakýsi provaz a on se začal dusit. Sípavě zalapal po dechu a snažil se rychle zvednout, aby uvolnil tlak na dýchací trubici, ale jeho zlomený kotník mu to nedovolil.Běžecký pás se pod ním pomalu zastavil, což mu dovolilo se lehce posunout dopředu a zmírnit tím tak smyčku, která ho škrtila. Dveře po jeho pravici se náhle rozrazily a skupina asi tří lidí v bledě modrých pláštích vešla dovnitř.Jedna z osob k němu ráznými kroky přistoupila a hrubě ho chytla za jeho zraněný kotník. Vyjekl bolestí a snažil se kohokoliv, kdo ho nyní držel, odstrčit. Jenže jak si záhy uvědomil, ruce měl uvázané krátkým řetězem k pásu, který byl připoutaný kolem beder a tak zůstal ležet a pokoušel se chytit dech.„Zlomený.“Snažil se zaměřit na osobu po jeho boku, která bolestivě prohmatávala onen kotník. Podle hlasu soudil, že se jedná o ženu. Rouška jí zakrývala polovinu obličeje a vlasy měla zakryté nějakým nemocničním šátkem v bílé barvě.„Zbavte se toho,“ prohlásil rezolutně hlas za jeho zády.Než se stačil nadát, přistoupila k němu druhá osoba s něčím lesklým v ruce.Ostrá bolest v krku byla to poslední, co ucítil, než celý svět zčernal.Doposud konstantní pípání se změnilo v děsivý jekot. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * John si naslinil prsty a líně otočil další stránku novin, které měl otevřené na klíně. Druhou rukou pozvedl šálek s čajem a usrkl si horké tekutiny. Hodiny tiše tikaly v pozadí.Sherlock náhle prudce vstal z křesla naproti s výkřikem: „Arzen!“John si s leknutím polil celé noviny i svůj oblíbený béžový svetr.„Sakra Sherlocku,“ zabručel, pokoušeje se otřít si zbytkem novin rychle chladnoucí čaj z hrudníku. S povzdechem upřel svou pozornost na muže před ním.„No?“„Jistěže to byl arzen! Ach! Jak jsem mohl přehlédnout tak jednoduché stopy?“ pokračoval Sherlock, rychle přecházejíc sem a tam.„Jak to mohl být arzen, vždyť ten muž zemřel na zástavu srdce,“ odvětil trpce John. S dalším povzdechem vstal z křesla, aby si sundal ten mokrý svetr. „A navíc by ho patolog nalezl v krvi.“„Samozřejmě, ale proč by v případě úmrtí na srdeční infarkt někdo pátral po jedu v krvi? Zvlášť pokud byl podáván dlouhodobě, v malém množství – tudíž pachatel mohl přestat s dávkováním už dávno a v momentě smrti by po něm v krvi nemuselo být ani stopy!“„Sherlocku to je absurdní.“„Není - poslouchej! Vysoká dávka tohoto jedu tě usmrtí téměř okamžitě. Nepříjemná smrt. Avšak projevy trvalé nadměrné expozice arsenem na zdraví jsou: ekzémy – kterými pan Caras též trpěl, bolesti břicha, průjmy, rakovina a mé oblíbené srdeční choroby! Jeden z vedlejších příznaků taky způsobuje takzvanou noční slepotu, což vysvětluje ty podlitiny na jeho holeních! Večer opakovaně narážel do nábytku!“ odvětil jedním dechem Sherlock, zatímco kolem sebe divoce gestikuloval.„A kdo by mu ten jed asi tak dával?“ zamračil se druhý muž, zkoumající vlhkou skvrnu od čaje na jeho košili.„Jeho manželka, samozřejmě,“ usmál se vědomě Sherlock. Sepnul si prsty pod bradou a usedl zpět do svého křesla.„Případ vyřešen! Co tam máme dál, Johne?“„Počkat, počkat, počkat!“ zamával John odmítavě rukou. „Tomu nerozumím. Proč by se ho snažila manželka zabít?“„Pan Caras měl slušnou životní pojistku. Jed dostával ráno do čaje, když mu žena připravovala snídani. Co tam máme DÁL Johne?“ odvětil suše Sherlock.John jen protočil oči a rozhodl se druhého muže ignorovat. Se zavrtěním hlavy se vydal do své ložnice, aby se převlékl a zkontroloval spící Rosamund.Než však stačil překročit práh, ozvalo se hlasité zabušení na dveře jejich bytu.„Dále!“ zvolal vesele Sherlock.Lestrade vešel do bytu celý udýchaný. V jedné ruce držel složku a než stačil cokoliv říct, Sherlock mu jí vytrhl a otevřel ji. Jeho oči začaly okamžitě skenovat text.„Taky tě rád vidím, Sherlocku,“ pozdravil Lestrade.„Ach, Gregu! Tebe bych tu nečekal takhle pozdě odpoledne. Co tě sem přivádí tentokrát?“ prohodil konverzačně John, avšak z jeho tónu hlasu byl slyšet lehký sarkasmus.„Nic pěkného, obávám se. Tenhle případ máme na stole už léta. Nikdy jsme si ale nespojili ty vraždy dohromady. Až teď. Média mi šlapou na paty a vedení chce nějaké stopy. Problém je, že nic nemáme. Prostě nic,“ postěžoval si Lestrade.„Co-cože? O čem to mluvíš?“ zakoktal se zmateně John. Pomalu přešel ke křeslu, ve kterém seděl Sherlock naprosto ponořený ve spisu, a nakoukl mu přes rameno.„Jistěže ty vraždy mají spojitost! Jak jste mohli přehlížet všechny ty podrobnosti, jako například-„„Ano, já vím Sherlocku! Proto jsem přišel za tebou! Vypadá to, že je to celé mnohem propojenější, než se na první pohled zdálo,“ odvětil naštvaně Greg. S povzdechem se posadil do křesla, které před chvilkou John opustil. „A já už prostě nevím jak dál.“„Sériový vrah,“ zamumlal si pro sebe Sherlock, zatímco svižně otáčel stránky ve spisu.„To mě napadlo taky, ale ty vraždy nenesou znaky sériového vraha. Je to komplikovanější a posledních pár měsíců se to neuvěřitelně stupňuje. Sherlocku, já-„„Beru to!“ ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Jim Moriarty zvedl oči od obrazovky svého mobilu a nenávistně pohlédl na týl řidiče sedícího před ním za volantem.„Brzda – plyn je jediný styl řízení co znáš?!“ vyštěkl podrážděně, načež s hlasitým povzdechem vymazal posledních pár řádků tajného kódu v esemesce, aby je napsal znova a správně.„Omlouvám se, pane,“ zamumlal řidič a nervózně promnul volant mezi prsty.Jim pokračoval v rozdávání příkazů skrze kódované esemesky, které rozesílal na skrytá čísla po celém světě. Každý kód byl jedinečný a jen jeho příjemce ho mohl správně přečíst a pochopit.Od své nafingované sebevraždy na střeše nemocnice St. Bart‘s si dával velký pozor, aby nikdo nezjistil, že je stále naživu. Jeho síť byla kompletně zreformovaná a na svém místě. Tentokrát vše ovšem funguje v naprostém utajení. Nikdo nemá ponětí, že vlákna této sítě musela být nejdříve samotným pavoukem pozřena, aby byla vytvořena nová síť, pevnější a složitější.Koutky jeho úst mu lehce zacukaly při vzpomínce na Sherlockův vyděšený výraz, když si strčil hlaveň pistole do pusy. Kdyby věděl! Poupravil si pás, který se mu zařezával do krku a pohlédl na moment ven z okénka. Venku se míhaly domy, ulice, stromy a tu a tam viděl nějakou palmu nebo kaktus. Byl začátek února, tudíž bylo venku stále lehce chladno. Aspoň že obloha byla zářivě modrá - skoro tak modrá jako Sherlockovy oči.Španělsko je krásné v každém ročním období. Vždy ho trochu vnitřně potěšilo, že sem musí osobně zaletět kvůli nějaké neodkladné obchodní záležitosti.Jako je třeba ohromná dodávka drog z Maroka.Tentokrát bylo třeba podplatit obzvlášť velké množství celníků a policistů a bůhví koho ještě. To je vždy ta obtížná část jeho podnikání – podplácet. Kéž by šlo lidi jednoduše ovládat a oni by na povel splnili každý tvůj rozkaz! Mít takovou armádu vymytých mozků. Překrásná představa!Na moment se Jim otřásl při vzpomínce na Euros.Ta měla talent na ovládání lidí, to se musí uznat. Dokonce i jeho přesvědčila o tom, že Sherlock a jeho kamarádíčci a jeho bratříček musí být podrobeni zkoušce, která je, pokud to přežijí, roztrhá vnitřně na kusy. Vypálí jim srdce.Samozřejmě že to nefungovalo. Bylo to příliš složité, nedomyšlené, emocionální a Jim nemohl jakkoliv zasáhnout v momentě, kdy se daly věci do pohybu.Jedna myšlenka mu trochu pozvedla náladu, a to, že ani tato supergeniální žena neprokoukla jeho fígl.Mobil mu zavibroval v dlani. Když pohlédl na odesílatele zprávy, trochu se zamračil. Sebastian a jeho zprávy z Anglie. Jako vždy přesně na čas.U dveří po jeho levici bylo tlačítko, které zmáčkl a odhlučněná bariéra se vysunula mezi ním a řidičem, vytvářejíc pro Jima trochu soukromí.Pár zmáčknutími vytočil Sebastianovo číslo a čekal na hlášení.„Šéfe, můžu mluvit?“ ozval se hlas z druhého konce. Jim protočil oči.„Samozřejmě že ano, jinak bych ti nevolal, hlupáčku.“Seb se zhluboka nadechl a začal.„Podle nejnovějších zpráv od našeho zdroje nemá Mycroft zatím ani nejmenší tušení, že jsi naživu. Euros je stále němá. Sherlock a John tráví poslední dobou spoustu času na Baker Street a řeší jednoduché případy. Ani jedna z našich „nehod“ se nedostala až k němu. Jak se zdá tým zakrývající stopy opět pracoval na jedničku.“Jim si trochu znuděně začal prohlížet nehty na pravé ruce. Tato hlášení se vážně stávala nudnou denní rutinou.„A…?“„Jinak všechny odehrávající se operace v Londýně a vlastně celé Británii probíhají bez jediné chyby. Ehm…“ zadrhl se hlas v telefonu, „vlastně objevil se tu jeden drobný problém.“Jim si promnul krk a podíval se z okénka. Znuděně přeskakoval očima z budovy na budovu, jak se míjely podél silnice.Sebastian si po jeho dlouhém mlčení odkašlal a trochu nervózněji pokračoval.„Jeden z našich přátel – mafiánský boss Nikolaj Pivovarov - zmizel.“„Jak to myslíš, zmizel? Někdo se ho zbavil?“ zabručel James.„Podle mých zdrojů, se prostě…no…vypařil z jeho domu,“ zakoktal sniper a poté se odmlčel, jen aby po chvilce opět začal mluvit.„Přece víš, jak poslední dobou mizí lidi. Nedávno jejich počet výrazně stoupl. A naše práce to není, ani nikoho koho známe. Je to záhada.“Jim si odfrknul. “Nic není záhada Sebe, všechno má nějakou příčinu. A proč by mě to mělo zajímat? Navaž kontakt s kýmkoliv, kdo ho nahradí a vysvětli mu, jak se věci mají. Něco dalšího?“„Tebe vůbec nezajímá, co se s těmi lidmi, kteří mizí po celé Británii i z kontinentu, děje? Občas najdou tělo, ale policie vůbec nemá ponětí, kdo to páchá. A to vím z první ruky. Myslím si, šéfe, že to stojí za prozkoumání,“ prohlásil rezolutně Sebastian.Jim se s ušklíbnutím zasmál.„Nudaaa.“Seb věděl, že na Jima může zafungovat jen jediná věc.„Sherlock ten případ vzal.“Na chvíli se rozhostilo napjaté ticho.„Pošli mi detaily o jednotlivých případech,“ oznámil druhý muž, a aniž by řekl cokoliv víc, zavěsil.Sebastian se pousmál. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- „Všichni zmizelí jsou většinou buď velice inteligentní, nebo jinak talentovaní lidé. Skoro to vypadá, jakoby se někdo snažil zbavit těch nejschopnějších z nás,“ zamumlal John, zatímco si prohlížel jeden ze spisů, které přinesl Lestrade.Sherlock se zatvářil trochu kysele. „Hm, ne tak úplně.“„Dobře, Sherlocku. Pouč mě,“ oznámil John a se založenýma rukama se opřel v křesle. Greg odešel už před nějakou dobou a tak byli opět zanecháni o samotě. Ze spodního bytu bylo slyšet hlasité cinkání hrnci. Paní Hudsonová nejspíš dokončovala přípravu večeře.„Nemyslím si, že kdokoliv tohle dělá, má v plánu ty lidi zabíjet,“ zamyslel se Sherlock. „Už vzhledem k tomu, že je tak dlouho drží naživu, potom co je unese.“„Takže si myslíš, že je unáší aby… co – mučil je?“Sherlock se zamyslel. „Ne, ani to není jeho hlavním cílem. Podívej se například na tenhle spis. Profesor aplikované fyziky Phil Downson nalezen mrtev v prostorách univerzitního kampusu po 3 měsících od svého zmizení přímo ze své kanceláře na London Imperial College. Byl vyhublý, pravděpodobně musel určitou dobu hladovět. Nesl známky násilného zacházení – měl částečně zhojený monokl na levém oku, vyražený přední zub a odštípnuté 2 spodní řezáky. Nehty na jeho pravé noze byly téměř všechny v určitý moment kompletně vytrhnuté, ale začaly dorůstat, tudíž tipuji, že se toto stalo někdy na začátku jeho času stráveného v zajetí. Dále je tu to, co sdílí všechny oběti, a to jsou podlitiny a odřeniny po nějakých poutech jak na obou zápěstích, tak také na kotnících a krku. To, co s ním náš vrah zamýšlel, rozhodně nebylo jen prosté mučení. Nejspíš se ho pokoušel nějak vydírat…možná všechny oběti mají i něco jiného společného, než byl talent. Možná něco věděli.“John se podrbal ve vlasech. „Takže musíme najít nějakou další věc, co mají všichni společnou.“Sherlock jenom tiše přikývl, dávno ztracený ve svých myšlenkách. John si ukousl ze svého toastu s rozpečeným sýrem. Jeho spolubydlící se toho svého ještě ani nedotkl.Když se snažil smést drobečky ze složky, kterou měl otevřenou na klíně, se zarazil a vyhrkl: „Všichni jsou bohatí. Sherlocku, doslova všichni unesení měli spoustu peněz!“„Jejich účty zůstaly naprosto netknuté. Nechybí tam ani libra,“ odvětil zamítavě Sherlock. „Ne. Peníze - to je jen vedlejší výsledek jejich práce. Tohoto muže peníze vůbec nezajímají.“„No ne že by se nám taky občas nehodily…“ zabrblal si John pod vousy. Sherlock na něj na moment uraženě pohlédl. John předstíral, že si toho nevšiml.„Příčina smrti je vždy stejná – zástava srdce. V tělech obětí je nalezen fenobarbital. Tahle látka se v některých amerických státech používá k usmrcování vězňů odsouzených k trestu smrti. V podstatě to znamená že-„„Usneš a už se neprobudíš,“ dokončil za něj Sherlock. Chvíli seděli oba v tichosti, když najednou Sherlock vyskočil z křesla, vzal si mobil, peněženku a vyběhl ze dveří. Na prahu se v rychlosti otočil na zmateného přítele.„Předevčírem nalezli novou oběť. Jedu se na něj podívat do márnice.“ Na chvíli se odmlčel a pak trochu nejistě dodal: „Jedeš taky?“„Že se ptáš!“ zvolal s úsměvem nadšeně John hbitě se zvedající na nohy.„Počkej, a co Rosie?“„Vždyť je s ní má matka. Odvedla si ji hned po tom, co Greg odešel.“„Lestrade už tu není?“ zeptal se překvapeně Sherlock a rozhlédl se po bytě, na což John jen protočil oči a vydal se směrem ke dveřím. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Molly nemohla říct, že byla překvapená, když Sherlock vrazil do dveří márnice s Johnem v závěsu a bez pozdravu se dožadoval vidět tělo zesnulého sportovce.„Říkala jsem si, kdy se tu ukážeš,“ řekla trochu otráveně Molly.„Jistě, Molly. Teď to tělo, prosím!“ zvolal Sherlock.John omluvně pohlédl na Molly. „Skutečně by nám pomohlo, kdybychom o tomto tělu věděli co nejvíc.“Molly přistoupila k jednomu z mrazících boxů a vysunula mrtvého muže zabaleného v černém pytli.„Pan Kazah byl nalezen před dvěma dny ve stoce nedaleko obecního parku, přibližně 10 mil západně od Londýna. Jeho levý kotník byl těsně před smrtí zlomen - tady jsem udělala rentgen,“ Molly se pozastavila, aby vytáhla se složky rentgenové foto. „Tady, vidíte? Tříštivá zlomenina, která se ani neměla šanci jakkoliv zahojit, dokonce ten kotník ani neotekl, tudíž to muselo být doslova minuty před jeho smrtí. Která byla mimochodem způsobena injekcí do krční tepny vysokou dávku pentobarbitalu. Který jsme nalezli v krvi. Je tu zřetelně vidět místo vpichu.“Sherlock začal obcházet tělo kolem dokola a mnul si bradu v zamyšlení. Když se Molly odmlčela, zastavil se.„Očividně to byl vrcholný sportovec, vzhledem ke stavbě jeho svalstva a celkově vycvičené postavě.“John se zasmál a podíval se nevěřícně na Sherlocka. „No samozřejmě. Vždyť letos vyhrál zlatou medaili za triatlon. Byly toho plné noviny, televize… to mi chceš říct, že jsi o něm nikdy neslyšel?!“Molly se trochu nejistě zasmála a obrátila svou pozornost taktéž na druhého muže, který nyní vypadal trochu zaraženě.Jeho mobil zavibroval a to mu dalo šanci uniknout této trapné situaci. Vytáhl si ho z kapsy kabátu, a když pohlédl na display, podrážděně si odfrkl. Jistě že jeho bratříček už o všem ví.„Mycroft?“ zeptal se tiše John.„Mému bratrovi nic neunikne.“„Co píše?“„Nic podstatného. Pojďme se vrátit zpět k panu Kazahovi,“ odpověděl uhýbavě Sherlock a dal si mobil zpět do kapsy. Poté se opět hluboce zamyslel a trochu blíže si prohlédnul odřeniny a pohmožděniny kolem zápěstí. Zdálo se, že byly způsobeny specifickým typem pout. Pouta, která by ve svém základě neměla způsobovat takovéto rány. Pouta, která jsou všeobecně užívána k upoutání mentálně nestabilních pacientů k posteli, a tudíž jsou opatřena zevnitř všitou jemnou látkou, která by neměla způsobovat takovéto pohmožděniny.Pokud ovšem nebyla uvázána příliš pevně. A po dobu zajetí nebyla nikdy sundána.Sherlock opatrně otočil mužovo zápěstí, aby si prohlédl jeho vnitřní stranu. Kolem dokola byl tmavě černý pruh, kopírující obrysy pout. Sherlock si všiml, že až na tyto zjevné ranky a modřiny a ovšem zlomený kotník, pan Kazah na sobě neměl jediné škrábnutí. Samozřejmě krom drobného vpichu na krku.Proč by někdo zabil někoho, koho držel nějakou dobu celkem nezraněného a měl s ním očividně plány? Po tom co si zlomil kotník? Jedná se o nějaký obchod s bílým masem? Objednal si ho někdo a poté, co bylo zboží znehodnoceno, o něj nejevil zájem, tudíž se ho jeho věznitel zbavil?Ale co ostatní případy? Všechny nesou stejné znaky. Něčím výjimečná osoba je unesena, držena určitou dobu v zajetí, mnohdy mučena a poté popravena a tělo skončí pohozeno někde na předměstí Londýna, či kousek dál za městem.Zcela očividně se jedná o nějakého sběratele. Někdo, kdo si rád drží skóre.„Jaká zrůda může takhle bezcitně vraždit,“ zamumlala Molly. Její hlas vrhl Sherlocka zpět do reality.„Musí to být víc lidí, není možné, aby tohle zvládl jen jediný člověk,“ odvětil pohotově Sherlock. Vytáhl si svou mini lupičku a zblízka si prohlížel tvář mrtvého muže. Kolem nosu a úst si všiml drobných otlačenin po nějaké dýchací masce.„Kdy měl pan Kazah poslední lékařskou prohlídku předtím, než byl unesen?“ otázal se Molly. Ta se ihned začala prohrabovat složkou a po chvíli vyhrkla. „Asi 2 měsíce před tím mu byly zjišťovány úrovně okysličení krve při fyzické námaze, které dopadly na výbornou,“ Molly se odmlčela, aby otočila dalších pár stránek. „Taky tehdy v krvi nebyly nalezeny žádné znaky po steroidech ani drogách.“„A on teď měl v krvi steroidy?“ zamračil se John.„A-ano, hodně. Různé druhy, většina z nich u nás nelegálních.“„Zajímavé,“ zašeptal si Sherlock pro sebe.„Aspoň sedmička?“ zasmál se John a Sherlock na něj s úšklebkem pohlédl koutkem oka.„Tohle je minimálně osmička, Johne! Takto krásně složitý případ jsme neměli od-„„Moriartyho,“ dokončil za něj John. Při vzpomínce na toho malého Ira se zatvářil kysele. Dobře, že už čichá ke kytičkám zespoda.Na chvíli se rozhostilo napjaté ticho. Molly pohlédla na hodinky na levé ruce a promnula si unaveně čelo.„Sherlocku, je dost pozdě a já bych ráda už šla, no, domů.“„Ale jistě, jdi Molly a užij si svoje dnešní rande!“ zvolal Sherlock s nosem zabořeným do spisu. John se na Molly spiklenecky usmál a popřál ji štěstí.„Já už se ani neptám,“ povzdechla si zrudlá Molly a poté co si pobrala své věci, vyrazila ke dveřím a bez dalších slov odešla. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Jim si znuděně prohlížel složky obětí a tu a tam si usrkl už chladnoucího černého čaje. Předtím, než dorazil do svého bytu v Londýně, se stavil v kanceláři, kde nalezl na svém stole všechny materiály, které se týkají podivných únosů lidí, se kterými se v poslední době roztrhl pytel.Ano, někdo unáší a hraje si s lidmi. Trochu nepříjemné, že o tom Jim nemá ponětí a kdokoliv to dělá, je natolik dobrý, že se doteď kompletně vyhýbal jeho kriminální síti. Někdo takový by mohl být zajímavý spojenec.Před pár minutami se mu začaly klížit oči. Trochu si je promnul jednou rukou a znovu se napil čaje. Uvelebil se do křesla a potlačil další zívnutí.Celkově se jedná o velice zajímavý případ a Jim si je jistý, že Sherlock ho eventuálně vyřeší. Tak proč by měl nějak zasahovat, když se ho to přímo netýká? Každého byznys je jeho věc, to by měl už přece Sebastian vědět.Sám má teď mnoho starostí se svou sítí, která je stále ještě čerstvá a i přesto, že už dosáhla své původní velikosti, pořád je nutné zalátat tu a tam se objevující díru. A obvykle to bohužel musí dělat osobně. Proto se většina jeho dní skládá z cestování po Londýně, Anglii a celé Evropě, setkávání se s různými klienty a spojenci pod falešnou identitou. Samozřejmě že by bylo velice nebezpečné cestovat pod svým pravým jménem, proto má hromadu dokladů na různá alias.Jako jsou například James Morley, James Dahmer, James Shawcross a podobně. Jeho tvář může být stále mnoha lidem povědomá, a pokud to není nutné, nerad se zjevuje na veřejnosti. Zvlášť když Mycroft začal kolem jeho sítě poslední dobou čmuchat. Což je další věc, která mu dělá vrásky na čele. Zhluboka se nadechl a otočil další stránku.Kdokoliv to dělá, má talent. To se musí uznat. Vždy perfektně zakryje všechny stopy a těla nechává naprosto náhodně. Ta spojitost mezi těmi únosy a vraždami je ovšem naprosto do očí bijící. Nechápe, jak to Lestrada nemohlo napadnout už dříve. Policie je neskutečně hloupá.Případ to byl rozhodně velice zajímavý, ale pro něj teď nebylo prioritou nahánět nějakého magora. Tak dlouho, jak se vážně nezačne motat do jeho záležitostí, tak ať si dělá, co chce.S konečností uzavřel spis na klíně a odhodil ho vedle sebe na stolek. Znovu se napil čaje, ale ten byl už natolik studený, že ho se znechucením odložil hned vedle spisu. Zvedl ruce nad hlavu a protáhl se. Potom vytáhl z kapsy mobil a podíval se, kolik je hodin. Na displeji stálo 2:36 ráno a hned pod tím 28 nových zpráv.Podrážděně zabručel a vstal s námahou z křesla. Vyřídí to ráno.Vydal se do ložnice, aby se převlékl a ulehl do postele. Když šel po schodech, sotva věnoval pozornost svému okolí. Ale jedna věc ho zarazila. Nebyl si jistý, jestli jeho spánkem deprivovaný mozek na něj hraje různé triky, ale byl přesvědčený o tom, že ten krátký bílý vlas na schodu před ním nepatří jemu.Sehnul se a dvěma prsty ho opatrně zvedl, aby se na něj mohl lépe podívat. Bílý vlas se zaleskl v záři lustru. Přimhouřil oči a v momentě nejistoty se rozhlédl kolem. V hale tiše tikaly hodiny, z kuchyně slyšel rachotit lednici, ale jinak byl celý byt naprosto tichý.Došel s vlasem v ruce do ložnice a z šuplíku vedle dveří vytáhl kapesník a zabalil ho do něj. Ráno se tím bude zabývat. Nejspíš to nic není. Možná ho tu zanechala jeho uklízečka, která sem jednou týdně dorazila, aby uklidila a zalila kytky.Nemohl si pomoct, ale potom co konečně ulehl do postele, cítil, jak na něj jeho podvědomí křičí, že tu není všechno v pořádku. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Uběhl týden od poslední vraždy a Sherlock stále nebyl blíž zjištění, kdo za nimi stojí.Naštvaně přecházel ve svém bytě sem a tam, občas se zastavil, aby si sedl do křesla, či vzal do ruky housle a pokoušel se trochu si pročistit hlavu. Ale pravda byla taková, že nebylo možné vyslýchat téměř žádné svědky, poněvadž blízcí obětí tvrdili, že nemají ponětí, kdy byl jejich příbuzný unesen. Nic neslyšeli, nic neviděli, v domě či bytě se nenašlo nic podezřelého. Vše nasvědčovalo tomu, že oběti se snad skutečně vypařily.Mobil mu oznámil, že přišla zpráva.A co ho frustrovalo nejvíc – jeho bratr mu šlape na paty. Každý den mu od něj přichází esemeska, ve které se ptá, jak pokročil s případem. Neodpověděl ani na jednu z nich a neměl to v úmyslu. Když ovšem krátce po první dorazila druhá, a potom třetí, jeho zvědavost vyhrála nad hrdostí. Vím, že mi neodpovíš, ale jak jsi na tom s tím případem? MH Stojím před vchodovými dveřmi. MH Sherlocku, otevři dveře! MH Hodil mobil na gauč a naštvaně přistoupil ke dveřím bytu a otevřel je. Hned za nimi stál Mycroft s deštníkem v jedné ruce a mobilem v druhé.„Rád tě zase vidím, bratříčku!“ ušklíbl se.„Nápodobně,“ zamumlal podrážděně Sherlock a nechal svého bratra vejít dál.Mycroft vstoupil do bytu se zjevnou nechutí, krátce se kolem sebe rozhlédl a potom přešel ke křeslu před krbem a opatrně se posadil. Sherlock dal mezitím vařit vodu a připravil dva šálky čaje. Chvíli zavládlo ticho, ve kterém se Mycroft zabýval svým telefonem a Sherlock čekal, až se dovaří voda. Potom se vrátil zpět, předal svému bratrovi jeden ze šálků a posadil se naproti němu.„Tak jak jsi na tom s tím případem?“„Skutečně jsi sem přišel, jen aby ses zeptal na tohle?“„Zajímá mě to. Zdá se totiž, že jsi s ním poslední dobou nehnul, což mě znepokojuje,“ zamumlal Mycroft a pofoukal si horký nápoj. Jeho bratr naproti němu protočil oči a překřížil si nohy.„A co si myslíš, že celé dny dělám?!“Mycroft se zamračil a znovu se rozhlédl kolem sebe. Byt byl v hrozném stavu. Po podlaze byly poházené špinavé kusy oblečení, police plné nádobí a papírů, všude nedopalky od cigaret a odpadky přetékající koš v kuchyni cítil až sem. Do kuchyně měl naštěstí zastíněný výhled.„To skutečně netuším. Chtěl by ses pochlubit?“Sherlock si upil ze svého čaje, zatímco nespouštěl oči ze svého bratra. Samozřejmě, že ho sem jeho bratr přišel zase akorát provokovat. Proto se rozhodl, že na tuhle otázku neodpoví. Mlčení se chvíli mezi dvěma muži táhlo, až to ten druhý nevydržel.Mycroft si hlasitě povzdechl a trochu si poposedl v křesle.„To vlastně není úplně ten důvod, proč jsem sem přišel,“ oznámil s lehkým váháním v hlase.„A proč jsi tedy tu?“„Mám jisté obavy ohledně… určité záležitosti. Nevím, jak ti to mám podat.“Sherlock přimhouřil oči.„Něco přede mnou tajíš.“Druhý muž se nervózně zavrtěl a přesunul svůj pohled na šálek s čajem. Zaťukal prsty na jemný porcelán, který držel v ruce a olízl si rty. „Máme důvodné obavy se domnívat, že síť Jamese Moriartyho je poslední dobou aktivní,“ oznámil chladně.„To není možné. Kompletně jsem ji zničil, Moriarty si vystřelil mozek z hlavy. Pozatýkali jsme hromadu lidí, nic už nezbylo!“ prohlásil naštvaně Sherlock.„To není tak úplně pravda,“ odpověděl jeho bratr. Pokračoval s vyhýbáním se přímému pohledu do očí a to bylo podezřelé.„Vyklop to!“„Některé buňky z jeho staré sítě, jsme nechali netknuté, aby nás v případě jakéhokoliv… návratu aktivity upozornily, že se něco děje. A něco se… děje.“„Jak dlouho už to víš?“ odsekl Sherlock a zvedl se na nohy, aby mohl přecházet ode zdi ke zdi. Házel podrážděné pohledy na svého bratra, který zůstal sedět v křesle.„Pár týdnů,“ povzdechl si Mycroft, protože tušil, že přijde výbuch.A měl pravdu.„Pár týdnů?! Pár týdnů, pro Krista! A ty mi nic neřekneš! Samozřejmě!“ vybuchl Sherlock a rozhodil naštvaně rukama. Potom se zhluboka nadechl a zasmál se. Mycrofta to vyvedlo z míry natolik, že překvapeně vzhlédl a viděl jak si jeho bratr mne čelo s vážným výrazem na tváři.„Chci všechno slyšet, bratře, mě se to týká taky!“Starší muž přikývl, pomalu položil poloprázdný šálek na stolek vedle sebe, založil si ruce a začal.„Poté, co Moriarty spáchal sebevraždu, jsme tě vyslali na misi zbavit se všech jeho buněk v zahraničí. A MI5 měla za úkol zlikvidovat stávající buňky v Londýně. Po dlouhém uvažování, jsme se ovšem rozhodli, že bude lepší, pokud jednu z buněk necháme netknutou. Víme, že byla pár let naprosto neaktivní, což nám také umožnilo dostat mezi jeho bývalé lidi naše agenty. Ale posledních pár týdnů, dostáváme informace, že se tuto buňku pokoušel někdo kontaktovat. A pokud se výzvědná služba nemýlí, a já si to nemyslím, tak to byla síť Jamese Moriartyho.“„Takže je jeho síť opět aktivní,“ zamumlal nevěřícně Sherlock. „Jak je to možné? Tvrdil jsi, že bez něj nastane vakuum moci, boj o to, kdo převezme síť, což vyústí v její úplný rozpad!“„Mýlil jsem se - někdo ji očividně opět vede.“Sherlock opět vstal a začal nervózně přecházet po pokoji. Jeho bratr seděl s hlavou sklopenou a čekal na smršť dalších otázek, která určitě přijde.„Nikdy se nenašlo tělo.“„Sherlocku, James Moriarty je mrtvý. Tečka,“ odpověděl pevně Mycroft.Sherlock se zastavil a stál na místě se založenýma rukama. Nemohl si pomoct, ale cítil, jak ho naplnilo vzrušení. Je možné, že celý tento nový případ je nějaká nová posmrtná hra? Složitý byl na to dost. Musím vědět víc!„Chci přístup ke všem tvým spisům ohledně téhle konkrétní buňky,“ prohlásil rezolutně Sherlock a posadil se zpět do křesla naproti svému bratrovi. Ten se trochu ošil, zašklebil se a s neochotou přikývl.Když později Mycroft vycházel z Baker Street, nasedl do připraveného vozu hned vedle Anthey. Aniž by ji jakkoliv pozdravil, zapnul si pás a chladně oznámil:„Odstraňte straku ze záznamů mise WS12.“ ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Postarší muž seděl tiše ve svém obývacím pokoji a zaujatě si prohlížel služku s papíry, fotkami a informacemi ohledně jeho dalšího projektu. Pod jeho šedivým knírkem hrál drobný úsměv. Tu a tam přejel prsty po některé z fotek, jako by s láskou vzpomínal na nějaké dobré časy. V jeho očích se odrážela záře plamenů z krbu naproti a ty tak působily spíše zeleným až žlutým dojmem, než blankytně modře.Tiché zaťukání na velké dřevěné dveře přerušilo jeho rozjímání. Zmíněný muž opatrně zavřel složku a položil ji vedle sebe na stolek. Vzhlédl a zvolal:„Vstupte!“Do tmavé místnosti vešel mladý vysoký muž. Měl jeden rukáv vyhrnutý a druhý roloval zpět. Beze slov přešel k muži, sedícímu na gauči a posadil se do křesla naproti němu.„Nějaké další informace?“ otázal se starší muž.„Nikolaj nám řekl vše, co ví. Zbavil jsem se ho, jak jste nařídil,“ oznámil suše druhý muž. Poté si všimnul složky ležící na stole. Natáhl se, vzal ji do ruky a otevřel ji. Chvíli bylo ticho, přerušované jen občasným zašustěním papíru a praskání ohně.„Tohle je skutečně velká ryba, nemůžu uvěřit, že tak dlouho unikal naší pozornosti,“ prohlásil po chvíli prohlížení si složky.Starší muž pouze tiše přikývl, koutky jeho úst byly stále stočené nahoru v lehkém úsměvu.„Chci se o něm dozvědět co nejvíc. Je to neuvěřitelně fascinující člověk. Nemůžu se dočkat, až tu bude s námi,“ usmál se ještě více muž na gauči.„Už to nebude dlouho trvat po tom všem, co Nikolaj řekl.“„Předpokládám, že jsi jeho výpověď nahrál?“„Samozřejmě.“Na chvíli opět zavládlo ticho. Oba muži ponořeni do svých vlastních myšlenek.„Myslíte, že bude snadné ho unést?“ zeptal se znenadání mladší muž.„Bylo snadné dostat se do jeho doupěte – použijeme klasické sedativum, nebude mít čas zavolat si posily.“„Za jak dlouho to hodláte provést?“„Chci se nejdříve ujistit, že se ten detektiv nedostane na správnou stopu, až potom sem přivedeme náš nejnovější projekt,“ odvětil starší muž. Trochu si povzdechl a vstal z gauče. Přešel ke krbu a pohlédl do plamenů.„Připravte pro něj jeho celu, nevidím to na déle než týden.“ ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Jim Moriarty seděl v kadeřnickém křesle – nechával se stříhat obvykle dvakrát do měsíce. Starší muž – očividně gay – mu lehce s profesionální obratností zastřihával vlasy a musel uznat, že bylo příjemné, když cítil, jak mu kadeřník opatrně přejíždí strojkem po týle. Jim se zabýval svým mobilem – střídavě rozdával příkazy, hrál hry a projížděl internet.Moriarty se rád staral o svůj vzhled a záleželo mu na tom, jak ho lidé vidí. Proto si vybíral jen ty nejlepší značky oblečení, používal nejdražší kosmetické přípravky a také chodil k tomu nejlepšímu kadeřníkovi v Londýně. Možná v celé Anglii. Samozřejmě, že Samuel věděl, co je zač - proto mu platil dvojnásobek za to, že bude mlčet.Jeho mobil mu zavibroval v ruce a Jim pohlédl na odesílatele. Byl to jeden z jeho agentů přes bezpečnost. Obvykle od něj nedostával zprávy, pokud se nejednalo o krizi. Rychle zprávu rozklikl a zadrhl se mu dech. Stálo tam jediné: Mycroft ví. Rozbušilo se mu srdce a div mu mobil nevyklouzl z ruky, jak se mu zpotily dlaně. Mycroft ví?! Jak je to možné? Ano, Jim věděl, že MI5 poslední dobou čmuchala kolem jeho operací, ale neměl jediný důvod se skutečně domnívat, že by se starší Holmes mohl dostat tak hluboko, aby se dozvěděl o něm.„Všechno v pořádku?“ otázal se zmateně Samuel, poté co si všimnul Jimova podivného chování.„Jo. Pokračuj,“ vyhrkl s předstíraným klidem Jim a poté si esemesku přečetl podruhé. To že Mycroft ví, úplně mění situaci. Teď už se nemohl cítit v bezpečí nikde – znamenalo to, že už nebude možné tak často jezdit někam osobně, když Holmesovi agenti věděli, že ho mají hledat. Že ho najdou, když budou hledat.Rychle mu odepsal, jak se to dozvěděl a kde je únik. Potom napsal Sebovi a informoval ho, že mu bude volat ‚Lock‘ ohledně jeho dalšího cíle. Protože momentálně bylo nutné se co nejrychleji zbavit toho, kdo Holmese informoval. Jim po nějaké chvíli přemýšlení došel k názoru, že to musel být někdo z jeho staré sítě. Nejspíš si ho vláda koupila už dávno, v době, kdy byl on sám považován za mrtvého.Jim zatnul čelist a promnul si čelo. Taková začátečnická chyba, neprověřit si své staré lidi! Časy se rychle mění a lidé ještě rychleji. Samozřejmě, že si je Mycroft koupil! Nebo ještě hůř – nastrkal tam někam své agenty.Jim naštvaně naťukal další rozkaz. Tentokrát informoval své ‚komando smrti‘. Tohle si žádalo rázné řešení. Použil sérii kódů a přikázal jim zbavit se celé části, ve které došlo k úniku informací. Lepší si být jistý, než později litovat.Kadeřník mezitím skončil a sundal z něj zástěru. Trochu mu kartáčkem očistil ramena od vlasů – přestože tam žádné nebyly. Jim vždy platil předem převodem z účtu, proto hned jak to bylo možné, vyskočil z křesla a div nevyběhl ven na ulici, kde na něj čekal řidič s jeho autem.Nasedl do zadního sedadla a s úlevou vydechl. Už pro něj nebylo bezpečné se venku procházet za denního světla. Všiml si, že na něj jeho řidič zvědavě úkosem pohlédl ve zpětném zrcátku.Nasadil svůj nejchladnější výraz. „Dovez mě k mému bytu.“„Ano pane,“ zamumlal rychle řidič a nastartoval vůz. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Jim zuřil. Jak je možné, že Moran nezabil všechny?! Že je nejde vypátrat, že se nemůže najednou zbavit tolika možných Mycroftových lidí, že by to vzbudilo podezření. Bla, bla, bla!Jim naštvaně kráčel chodbou vedoucí do zasedací místnosti, kde se měl sejít se špičkami své sítě, se svými nejvěrnějšími. Teda, tak alespoň doufal. Protože komu se dá momentálně věřit? Po tom, co se před dvěma dny dozvěděl o úniku informací z jeho vlastní sítě, nemohl kloudně spát, jíst ani přemýšlet. Pokud po něm britská vláda půjde, tak je jisté, že buď skončí v nejzabezpečenějším vězení v zemi, což je Sherrinford, společně s Euros – Jim se otřásl při téhle myšlence – anebo se ho hladce a rychle zbaví. Beze svědků. A protože je oficiálně mrtvý, nebudou muset vůbec nic řešit.Nejdůležitější teď bylo určit směr, jakým se to celé bude dál odvíjet. Mycroft ví. S tím se nedá už nic dělat. Nyní bylo nejdůležitější učinit správné kroky k tomu, aby se jeho údajné přežití ukázalo jako falešná informace.Moriarty rozrazil skleněné dveře vedoucí do zasedací místnosti. Uvnitř kolem dlouhého stolu sedělo přesně dvanáct lidí. Všechna křesla byla obsazená – tedy až na jedno v čele stolu.Všichni překvapeně vzhlédli, když vešel. Jim beze slova přešel k prázdnému křeslu a posadil se. Poupravil si sako, pomalu položil mobil na stůl a všechny sjel pohledem. Potom se sladce usmál a otočil se k Moranovi, který seděl po jeho pravici.„Můžeš mi vysvětlit, Sebbie, proč jsem před chvílí obdržel informaci, že ses zbavil pouze necelé poloviny lidí, které jsem ti přikázal odstranit?“Sebastian naprázdno polkl, ale dál hrdě čelil vražednému pohledu svého šéfa.„Není moudré se zbavit všech, zvlášť pokud víme, že jsou tam Holmesovi lidé. Momentálně máme výhodu v tom, že Mycroft neví, že my víme, že ví.“Jim přimhouřil oči. Na přemýšlení tu byl on! Sebastian dělal špinavou práci, neměl právo aby-„Pane, pokud mohu něco dodat? Musím s Moranem souhlasit. Můžeme toho využít, můžeme je svést z cesty, krmit je falešnými informacemi. Byla by škoda zbavit se takovéto výhody,“ ozval se hlas zpoza Sebastiana. Jim se nahnul, aby lépe viděl. Samozřejmě, že to byl Caxton – odborník přes politiku. Který měl taky nutkání do všeho kecat. Ostatně přesně jako všichni politici.„Musíš do všeho kecat Caxie? Tatínek si to vyřídí sám,“ odvětil otráveně Jim. Ale musel uznat, že mají pravdu. Skutečně by se měl prospat, protože na něco takového by měl přece přijít sám už dávno. Ovládali ho emoce a zatemňovali mu rozum.„Jistě pane. Ale myslím, že bychom tuto nepříjemnou záležitost mohli obrátit v náš prospěch,“ prohlásil už jistějším hlasem Caxton.Jim zamhouřil obočí, načež zamyšleně pohlédl do stropu a s jedním prstem na rtech – hotová parodie usilovného zamyšlení.„To je všechno krásné, ale může mi někdo zodpovědět jednu malinkatou otázečku, která mi poslední dva dny vrtá v hlavě…“Moriarty se na moment dramaticky odmlčel. A potom zařval:„Jak je MOŽNÉ že jste nezkontrolovali agenty, které jsme více než ČTYŘI ROKY nekontaktovali a byla tu, byť jen drobounká možnost, že by MOHLI být kompromitováni?!“Všichni jeho lidé sebou škubli a lehce sklopili hlavy. Jak začal Moriarty řvát, bylo zle. Jim ostře pohlédl na zrzavého muže sedícího na konci stolu.„Mluvím s TEBOU Wesley!“ Sliny létaly vzduchem a přistávaly na stole a na tvářích osob sedících nejblíž Jima.Drobný vyhublý muž s plešatící hlavou se zrzavými ulízanými vlasy se přikrčil ve svém křesle.„P-pane, já jsem navrhoval aby-“Jim zrudl ještě víc a vyskočil ze svého křesla.„Ty nemáš co navrhovat, ty máš dávat rozkazy! Měl bych tě zastřelit, ty neschopný blbče!“V místnosti panovalo napjaté ticho. Potom se Jim pomalu posadil a promnul si čelo.„Chci vypracovat podrobnou zprávu o tom, co navrhujete v této situaci učinit a jak nejlépe přesvědčit Holmese, že jsem mrtvý. Do konce týdne to chci mít na stole, “ zamumlal se zavřenýma očima, opírajíc se o ruku. Únava ho pomalu přemáhala.Když se chvíli nic nedělo, Jim zvedl oči a chladně je přejel pohledem.„No tak šup, šup! Zmizte odtud.“V tu ránu se všichni zvedli za svých křesel a div se nepřerazili, jak se hrnuli ke dveřím.Všichni kromě Sebastiana, který zůstal sedět ve svém křesle. Počkal, až všichni vyjdou z místnosti a pohlédl na svého šéfa. Jim na něj tázavě pozvedl obočí.„Chtěl jsem s tebou mluvit o samotě.“„Copak Tygře? Chceš se omluvit za svoji neschopnost? Tak. Hotovo. Odpuštěno. Ale jenom, že seš to ty. Příště už budu chtít něco na oplátku,“ usmál se Jim. Sebastian si povzdechl.„Chci, aby s tebou odteď chodili dva bodyguardi. Dostávají se mi informace, že se kolem tvého bytu a kanceláře stále častěji objevují podezřelí lidé a někteří z našich agentů mají obavy.“„Chceš říct, že teď už Mycroft i ví, kde bydlím? Co dál? Jaký gel na vlasy používám? Jaké cereálie snídám?“ odsekl podrážděně Jim.„Nemyslím si, že jsou to Holmesovi lidé,“ oznámil s rozvahou druhý muž.Jim překvapeně vzhlédl a pátravě se zadíval do Sebastianových modrých očí. Jeho chladnokrevný nájemný vrah měl skutečně obavy. Zvláštní.„A kdo jiný by to asi mohl být? Kdo jiný asi tak ví, že jsem naživu?“„Nevím. O to je to horší. Myslím, že by bylo lepší, kdybys na nějakou dobu vyjel ze země. Než se to tu uklidní,“ řekl rozhodným hlasem Sebastian. Jim si promnul oči a zašklebil se.„Ne, to by nešlo, Sebbie. Mám tady hromadu práce – je tu ten podivný případ a síť ještě není úplně stabilní. Přece vidíš, co se teď stalo? Dřív by to bylo nemožné.“„A co ten podivný vlas, který jsi mi asi před týdnem přinesl a hystericky jsi mi s ním mával před nosem s tím, že u tebe doma někdo byl.“Jim se zamračil. „Ale nezjistilo se, komu patří. Trochu jsem přeháněl. Co- chceš snad říct, že tam Holmesovi agenti šmejdili?“„To je to, co nevíme. Záznam z kamer nic neukázal,“ odvětil klidným hlasem Moran. „Ale skutečně si vezmi ty dva bodyguardy. Něco tu smrdí.“ ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * John si položil hlavu do dlaní.„Musí to mít spojitost! Ach, Johne, dlouho jsem nebyl tak nadšený! Hra pokračuje!“ prohlásil už poněkolikáté radostně Sherlock, zatímco listoval ve zprávě od Mycrofta.„Nemáme jediný důkaz, že by-“„Nic není náhoda! Tyhle vraždy – určitě za nimi stojí, já to vím! Tehdy nějak přežil, a teď mě znovu vyzývá ke hře!“John se podrbal ve vlasech. Když se Sherlock dostal do takového stavu naprosté posedlosti, bylo těžké mu cokoliv vymluvit. Třeba to, že Moriarty žije.„Sám jsi viděl, že si vystřelil mozek. Jako lékař ti říkám, že tohle nikdo nepřežije.“„A ty jsi mě viděl skočit ze střechy nemocnice – musel to mít připravené,“ zamumlal mladší muž a vytáhl další papír, který položil na zem vedle sebe. Seděl na podlaze obývacího pokoje v tureckém sedu a kolem sebe měl rozprostřené jednotlivé papíry, týkající se Moriartovy bývalé kriminální buňky.John se zamračil. „To prostě není možné. Sherlocku, on je mrtvý. I Euros to potvrdila.“„Euros není zrovna nejzářnější příklad pravdomluvnosti.“„I tvůj bratr, který je doslova britskou vládou, ti to potvrdil,“ pokračoval John.„To samé platí o něm,“ odvětil s trochou jedu v hlase Sherlock.John ho opatrně obešel, přešel ke gauči a posadil se. Chvíli kriticky pozoroval svého přítele, sedícího na podlaze.„Myslím, že si pouze přeješ, aby žil. Protože se nudíš, ale to prostě nezmění skutečnost. A ta je, že si vystřelil mozek. Našla se tam louže jeho krve s kusy tkáně. Moriartyho DNA.“Sherlock mlčel.„Měl by ses zaměřit na ten případ Londýnského přízraku,“ dodal po chvíli John.„Ale vždyť to dělám! Říkám ti - to má spojitost, je to další hra!“ odpálil naštvaně mladší muž.Jeho mobil mu oznámil, že přišla esemeska. Sherlock ho rychle chytil, přečetl si ji a vmžiku vyskočil ze svého místa a k Johnově údivu zamířil ke dveřím ven z bytu.„Lestrade píše, že se našlo další tělo. Nikolaj Pivovarov – zmizel asi před dvěma týdny. Ještě neohledali místo činu, jedeme se tam podívat,“ oznámil nadšeně Sherlock.„To tam hodláš jet v županu?!“Sherlock se překvapeně podíval, co má na sobě. Trochu se začervenal a potom beze slov zamířil k sobě do ložnice, kde se převlékl. Po chvíli už oba seděli v taxíku a mířili na místo činu.Když tam dojeli, Sherlock ihned vystoupil z vozu, podlezl policejní pásku a přistoupil k mrtvému ležícímu v ústí městské kanalizace. Tělo Nikolaje Pivovarova bylo v hrozném stavu – byl úplně nahý a snad každý kousek jeho kůže nezůstal ušetřen a byl pokryt řeznými ránami, podlitinami či modřinami, špínou a odřeninami. Jeho obličej vypadal nejhůř – velká část jeho zubů byla kompletně vyražená, čelist měl na několika místech očividně zlomenou, nos a oči měl oteklé natolik, že téměř nebylo možné rozeznat, že se kdy jednalo o lidskou tvář. Pravý ušní boltec měl rozřízlý, na rukou mu chybělo pár prstů a na zbylých nebyly nehty. Měl roztříštěnou čéšku na levém koleni a druhá noha byla zcela jistě zlomená. Zkrátka – nebyl to hezký pohled.Tělo leželo na zádech v mělké špinavé vodě – která už nejspíš smyla většinu důkazů.„Chudák chlap – teda jako byl to zmetek, ale nemyslím si, že si kdokoliv zaslouží takovýto osud,“ prohlásil Lestrade stojící vedle Sherlocka a usrkl si kávy z kelímku, který držel v ruce.„Och můj bože! Ve válce jsem viděl mrtvé, granáty rozsekané vojáky, kteří vypadali líp než tenhle,“ zašklebil se John, když se mu naskytl plný pohled na tu hroznou scénu.„Kdo ho našel?“ zeptal se Sherlock po chvíli a přikrčil se k Nikolajově hlavě, aby si lépe prohlédl zranění na jeho tváři.„Cyklista- nějaký nadšenec trénující na závody či co. Jel tady kolem půl osmé ráno, když si ho všimnul,“ odpověděl Greg.„Je ještě tady? Můžu s ním mluvit?“Lestrade si povzdechl. „Ne. Vyslechli jsme ho a potom jel dál - prý musí do práce. Mám na něj kontakt, jestli mu chceš-“„Ne, to je dobrý. Beztak vám asi nic moc neřekl,“ zamumlal Sherlock, natáhl si latexovou rukavici a pomalu otočil Nikolajovu hlavu, aby si lépe prohlédl krk. Žádné znaky po jakémkoliv provazu či límci. Pohlédl na zápěstí – tam byly otlačeniny od pout. Ale od klasických metalových. Tato vražda se z nějakého důvodu vymykala ostatním. Ale proč?„Jak vypadal?“„No takový vysoký, mladý muž s-“„Ne, ten cyklista. Pivovarov- předtím než ho unesli,“ otázal se podrážděně Sherlock.„Někde v databázi máme fotky, potom ti je pošlu. Ale byl to urostlý chlap- silný- šel z něj strach,“ odpověděl Greg.To znamená, že nijak nezhubl. Ani nenesl známky hladovění.Sherlock se rozhlédl kolem. Celé místo činu bylo očividně pečlivě vybráno – stoka, ve které tělo leželo, byla silně znečištěná a v okolí byly poházené odpadky. Skoro to tu vypadalo, jako černá skládka. Což značně ztěžovalo hledání stop.Sherlock se zaměřil na vysokou uschlou trávu poblíž. Ani stébélko nebylo nějak podezřele zlomené či zahnuté. Navíc se tu všude kolem procházeli policajti a celé místo kompromitovali ještě před tím, než sem Sherlock dorazil.„Žádné známky po tom, jak sem pachatel tělo dostal, ani odkud přišel,“ zamumlal si zamyšleně.„No na zádech ho nepřinesl, ten ubožák musí vážit víc jak metrák,“ prohlásil John.„Nikde nevidím žádné stopy po pneumatikách, takže jak ho sem dostal?“Pomalu začalo poprchávat. Policisti pobíhali kolem, naposledy nafotili, co se dalo, a přikryli tělo. Inspektor detektive je ještě popohnal, aby co nejrychleji sbalili všechny důkazy a vzorky, že tělo se musí odvézt. „Snad nám pitva řekne něco víc,“ oznámil John, když se po chvíli se Sherlockem opět ocitli v taxíku mířícím zpět na Baker Street. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Druhý den se Sherlock i s Johnem vydali do nemocnice St. Bart’s aby se od Molly dozvěděli, co našla při pitvě. Ještě než však stihli dojít k márnici, narazili na Molly Hooperovou na chodbě. Doslova do ní Sherlock vrazil.„ACH! Promiň Molly, nečekal jsem tě tu,“ omluvil se Sherlock, chytaje překvapenou Molly za ramena.„Sherlocku, Johne, co-“ zamumlala zmateně mladá žena, ale Sherlock ji jemně otočil a vedl ji zpět chodbou směrem k márnici.„Včera přivezli tělo Nikolaje Pivovarova a je akutní abych věděl, co jsi všechno při ohledání našla,“ pokračoval detektiv, zatímco vedl zmatenou patoložku dál chodbou.„Ale Sherlocku, já-“„Něco tu nesedí ohledně téhle vraždy, potřebuju najít alespoň jedno vodítko, něco co-“V momentě kdy trojice vrazila do márnice, oba muži se zarazili. Uprostřed místnosti stál vysoký muž v bílém plášti, nakláněl se nad nějakým tělem starší mrtvé ženy a malou pilkou ji rozřezával hrudník. Když se rozrazily dveře, vypnul přístroj a překvapeně vzhlédl.„A to je kdo?“ zmateně vyhrkl Sherlock ukazujíce na staršího muže.„Sherlocku, já jsem pitvu neprováděla. Scotland Yard povolal specialistu, který se bude tomuto případu odteďka věnovat,“ oznámila s nejistým úsměvem Molly. Starší muž odložil pilku a pozvedl si ochranný štít, který dosud zakrýval jeho obličej. „Ach! Tak vy jste ten slavný Sherlock Holmes! Detektiv v té směšné čepici-“„Není to moje čepice!“ odfrkl si naštvaně mladší muž.John se za ním uchechtl.„Je mi skutečnou ctí vás poznat!“ dokončil muž v bílém.„To vy jste prováděl pitvu tělo Nikolaje Pivovarova?“ zeptal se Sherlock bez okolků a přistoupil trochu blíže k pitevnímu stolu.„Ano, ano. Chudák chlap, hrůza co si musel vytrpět. No, kromě pentobarbitalu v krvi jsme nenalezli nic, co by nás přivedlo blíže k vrahovi, bohužel,“ povzdechl si starší muž, zatímco si pomalu sundával obě latexové rukavice.Sherlock přimhouřil oči. „Chtěl bych to tělo vidět a s ním i záznamy o pitvě.“„Ale jistě, jistě,“ odpověděl vesele muž v bílém, obešel stůl a přešel k jednomu z mrazících boxů.„Myslím, že jsem přeslechl vaše jméno, pane…?“Muž se zarazil a otočil se k Sherlockovi. Pod jeho bílým knírkem se rozzářil široký úsměv, jeho přívětivé modré oči se zaleskly v ostré záři nemocničních světel.Potom napřáhl ruku a řekl:„Doktor Sky, těší mě.“ ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Sherlock si s trochou zaváhání s doktorem potřásl rukou. Potom se představil i John, což umožnilo detektivovi učinit krátkou dedukci této nové osoby. Muž. Rozvedený/single, kolem 55-60 let, očividně při penězích, vášnivě oddaný své práci, velice inteligentní, potrpí si na vzhledu, sebevědomý, nepřítomná rodina, něco skrývá… Sherlocka vrhl zpět do reality skřípavý zvuk vysouvání těla mrtvého mafiána z mrazicího boxu. Když starší doktor rozepnul černý pytel, Sherlock se zarazil.Tělo bylo kompletně čisté. Někdo ho vydrhnul.„Proč jste to tělo umyl?! Jak mám teď asi nalézt stopy?“ vyhrkl, rozhořčeně gestikulujíc nad mrtvým mužem. Doktor Sky se zdál trochu zaražen.„To je běžný proces. Dělám to tak pokaždé,“ oznámil zmateně.Sherlock si odfrknul a nandal si rukavici, kterou mu Molly podávala. Potom párkrát obešel tělo, ale neviděl nic nového. Zaujal ho vpich po injekční stříkačce na jedné straně krku. Stejný, jaký měly všechny oběti.„Takže jste nalezl pentobarbital v jeho krvi? Co ještě?“ zeptal se John.Doktor Sky se zamyslel. „Všechno je v pitevní zprávě, ale jinak jsem nenašel nic podezřelého. Nějakou dobu byl zcela jistě mučen, možná vyslýchán soudě podle jeho zranění…“„Skutečně veliká pomoc, doktore,“ zamumlal sarkasticky detektiv a vytáhl svou malou lupičku, aby si lépe prohlédnul modřiny po něčích prstech na Nikolajově předloktí. Modřina byla nažloutlá a trochu vybledlá, tak 5 dní stará. Někdo ho pevně uchopil - někdo s hubenými dlouhými prsty a širokou dlaní.„To je mi moc líto, detektive. Přál bych si pro vás mít lepší zprávy, skutečně.“Sherlock vzhlédl a podíval se do doktorových očí. Byly velice pronikavé, ale zároveň z nich nemohl nic vyčíst. „Takže příčina smrti byla stejná, jako u jeho ostatních obětí.“Doktor si založil ruce a povzdechl si. „Tahle vražda se v podstatě ničím neliší-“„Chyba!“ přerušil ho Sherlock ostře se zdviženým prstem. „Tahle vražda je úplně jiná, a já chci přijít na to proč. Nikolaj byl inteligentní a schopný manipulátor, ale zas tolik nevynikal nad jiné. Proč by ho náš vrah vůbec unášel? Očividně ho mučil pro informace, ale jaké?“Na chvíli zavládlo ticho.„Pošlete mi kompletní pitevní zprávu na email. Tady se nic nového nedozvím,“ zabrblal podrážděně Sherlock, schovávajíc si svou lupičku zpět do kapsy. Potom se otočil a beze slov vyšel z místnosti.„Měj se Molly, Doktore,“ vykoktal ze sebe John a rychle se vydal za vzdalující postavou jeho přítele.„Sherlocku!“ zvolal za ním John.Ignorujíce ho, Sherlock vytáhnul mobil z kapsy kabátu a rychle naťukal zprávu a poslal ji Lestradovi. Proč jste přiřadili k mému případu nového patologa? SH Netrvalo dlouho a přišla odpověď. Promiň Sherlocku, bylo to mimo mé pravomoci. Lidi z hora ho tam poslali. Nemohl jsem nic dělat. G. Lestrade Lidi z hora? Asi nastal čas promluvit si s jeho bratříčkem. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Mycroft si povzdechl a jediným kliknutím odeslal velice důležitý email, potom se opřel ve svém křesle, sáhl po šálku s kávou a napil se. Dnešek byl perný den a jeho bratříček mu ho nijak neusnadňoval – jeho věčné pátrání po Moriartym odvádělo jeho pozornost od důležitějšího případu. Mycroft věděl, že tajit Moriartyho přežití před jeho bratrem bude oříšek. Ne, že by neměl praxi – Euros dokázal utajit po desetiletí. Ale jak to nakonec také dopadlo, že? Bude mu o něm eventuálně muset říct. Ale lépe později než dříve.Až chytí Londýnský Přízrak. Pak mu poví pravdu.Mycroft si promnul oči a pohlédl zpět na obrazovku svého notebooku. Čekala ho ještě spousta práce. Také tu ovšem byly důležitější věci, které se musí vyřešit.Londýnský Přízrak byl stále na svobodě a byla pouze otázka času, kdy spáchá další vraždu. A jeho mladší bratříček má místo toho hlavu plnou Moriartyho. Dokonce ho vidí i za tímhle případem. Ale Mycroft moc dobře ví, že tomu tak není. Kdepak.Jima sledují už nějakou dobu. Před několika týdny kolem jeho bytu umístili mnoho různých agentů – i tak bylo těžké ho spatřit, Jim byl mazaný. Už nejspíš věděl, že o něm britská tajná služba ví. Někdo ho zajisté informoval. Starší Holmes tušil, že mají mezi sebou špeha a usilovně pátral na jeho odhalení. Zatím marně.Holmesovi nadřízení (ano, skutečně nějaké má) ho chtějí mrtvého. Nechají ho naživu tak dlouho, jak jim bude užitečný – protože lepší je nepřítel, kterého znáš – a potom se ho zbaví. Nebude nutné žádné papírování. Jim Moriarty, nebo Richard Brook, nebo kdo to vlastně je, prostě zmizí.Ano, James Moriarty byl problém. Momentálně nepříliš důležitý problém, nicméně stále problém, který se jednou bude muset vyřešit. Mycroft s tímto plánem souhlasil a nijak neoponoval. Ovšem zbavit se takovéto geniální mysli – a nebyl pochyb o tom, že je Moriarty geniální – by byla škoda.Staršímu Holmesovi proběhla hlavou stará vzpomínka, jak orodoval za Euros a snažil se přesvědčit britskou vládu, že jednou bude lidstvu užitečná. Že by to byla škoda, se jí zbavit.Ačkoliv by to Mycroft nikdy neřekl nahlas - a kdybyste se ho zeptali, tak to popře - James Moriarty mu připomínal jeho bratra, kdyby se narodil jedináčkem. I když podle Euros měl (má?) James bratra - ne, že by se to dalo potvrdit. Kdyby Sherlock vyrůstal bez přátel, odtržený od společnosti – jak by skončil? Nikdo nemohl popřít, že měl sklony k nelegálním činnostem. A drogám – v tom se tito dva muži lišili.Proto by si chtěl s Jamesem naposledy promluvit, předtím, než se ho zbaví. Chtěl vidět svět jeho očima. Chtěl ho chápat, aby mohl více porozumět svému bratrovi.James Moriarty zemře. Může to být za týden, za měsíc, za rok. Ale ten čas se blížil a až nadejde, Mycroft bude ten, kdo dá rozkaz. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Mladý muž rychle procházel úzkou ulicí, ruce v kapsách a na sobě kapuci. Jeho kroky se odrážely od nedalekých zdí, které ho obklopovaly. Mezi zuby držel cigaretu, která už dávno zhasla, nicméně muž ji stále nervózně žmoulal mezi rty.Míjel pár stanů bezdomovců, kteří si ho podezřele dlouho prohlíželi. Ovšem to nebyla momentálně jeho největší starost.Jeho nadřízený – pokud ho tak může nazvat – ho po dlouhé době kontaktoval. Za pět minut měli sraz v zapadlé hospodě na kraji města.A šel pozdě.Podvědomě zrychlil krok, když spatřil starý oprýskaný vchod. Otevřel dveře, které hlasitě zaskřípaly a jak vkročil dovnitř, ihned ho uhodil do nosu silný zápach piva, kouře a potu. Vzduch byl dusný a mlhavý. Kolem se pohybovali převážně starší muži ve starém ušmudlaném oblečení. Pár z nich sedělo kolem baru a popíjeli drinky. Mezi nimi rychle spatřil muže, se kterým se měl dnes setkat. Jako jediný měl na sobě poměrně draze vypadající kabát a v jeho naleštěných polobotkách se odrážela tlumené oranžové světlo ze stropního lustru.Rychle přešel ke zmíněnému muži a beze slova se posadil na barovou stoličku vedle něj.„Nastal čas,“ pronesl muž v kabátu a jedním okem pohlédl na mladšího muže vedle sebe. „Šéf dal zelenou - teď to stojí na tobě.“„Bez peněz ani kuře nehrabe. Máš moje prachy?“ odsekl tiše mladší muž a ještě jednou se nenápadně porozhlédl po lidech v hospodě.Ten druhý se ušklíbl, „Půlku dostaneš teď a druhou až odvedeš svou práci,“ na moment se odmlčel a napil se nějakého burbonu ze sklenky, kterou držel v jedné ruce. „Taková byla dohoda.“„Chci je vidět.“Starší muž se chladně usmál a natáhl se pro kufřík, který mu ledabyle stál u nohou. „Všechno je tady,“ poplácal ho jednou rukou. „Věř mi. Nemám důvod tě jakkoliv podvést. Po naší schůzce si to můžeš odnést.“Chvíli se zdálo, že se mladší muž rozmýšlí. Upřeně zíral na ten kufřík, ve snaze ho prokouknout a zjistit jestli druhý muž mluví pravdu. Potom beze slov mávl na barmana a objednal si whisky.„Dobře. Jo,“ vydechl se sklenkou u úst, načež do sebe hodil celý její obsah. „Takže dneska?“„Dneska ho tam chce mít. Napsal jsi, že to půjde,“ oči muže v kabátu se nebezpečně zaleskly. „Půjde to, nebo snad ne?“„Jo. Půjde. Máš ten prášek?“ odvětil netrpělivě mladší muž. Ten druhý sáhl do kapsy svého kabátu a vytáhl malý mikrotenový sáček s bělavým práškem.„Stačí polovina, ale můžeš tam nasypat všechno. A znovu opakuji, nesmí, za žádnou cenu nesmí být ten nápoj vařící, ta látka přežije pouze teploty pod 80 stupňů.“Mladší muž se natáhl a převzal si ten prášek. Rychle si ho strčil do zadní kapsy od džínů.„Jasný.“„Tuhle práci máš jenom proto, že jsi skvělý herec, Petere. Ani Holmes, ani Moriarty tě zatím nebyli schopní prokouknout,“ přimhouřil oči starší muž, zvedaje se ze své židle. Rychle do sebe kopnul zbytek svého drinku a ještě naposledy pohlédnul mladšímu muži do očí.„Nezvorej to, jinak víš, co tě čeká.“Potom hodil na barový pult pár ušmudlaných bankovek a bez prodlení vyšel ze dveří.Mladší muž se sehnul a vzal do ruky kufřík, který tam byl zanechán.Teď už jenom aby šlo všechno podle plánu. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * „Tak už pohni tím svým pěkným zadkem a dones mi moje Latté!“Muž předním se zmateně podíval do zpětného zrcátka a otočil klíčky, aby vypnul motor.„Go tapa!“ zvolal podrážděně Jim a netrpělivě zatleskal.Jeho řidič se rychle vysápal z předního sedadla a vyběhl na chodník do blízké kavárny. Jim ho chvíli sledoval očima a potom opět obrátil svůj pohled na mobil, který si vytáhl z kapsy a přečetl si nově příchozí zprávu. Sebastian. Doufám, že máš sebou ty dva bodyguardy, co jsem poslal. SM Jim protočil oči. Sebbie byl tak roztomilý, když se strachoval.Pravda byla taková, že Jim nehodlal všude chodit se svými bodyguardy. Nechtěl je mít u sebe doma, ani před vchodem do bytu, ani nikde jinde. Bral si je jenom když očekával nějaké problémy. Jako například když byl navštívit Sherrinford a byl si téměř jistý, že ho tam bude chtít Holmes zadržet. Jinak mu stačilo dobře rozmístit odstřelovače a to obvykle stačilo.Rozhodně si nehodlal do svého auta tahat nějaké dvě gorily, zvlášť když se stavoval na oběd a potom také na své oblíbené kafe, které si rád dával po únavném dni.Alespoň respektoval jednu Sebastianovu radu a to, že nebude zbytečně vylézat na denní světlo. A tak do kavárny poslal s přesnými instrukcemi svého řidiče. Byl to mladý muž, nepracoval pro něj příliš dlouho a tak ho bylo možné ještě trochu vytrénovat.Odpověděl na pár dalších pracovních esemesek, když náhle uslyšel, jak se otevírají přední dveře. Jeho řidič se vrátil i s kávou v kelímku.„Tady máte, pane. Latté bez cukru,“ oznámil mladší muž, podávaje horký nápoj svému šéfovi.Jim si ho mlčky převzal a ihned si usrkl – a zarazil se.„To kafe je teplý. Má být horký. Mám ti ho snad chrstnout do obličeje a poslat tě pro nový?“ odsekl podrážděně. Řidič před ním se nepříjemně zavrtěl ve své sedačce.„Promiňte, pane. Už se to nestane.“Jim přimhouřil oči a znovu se napil.„No to doufej. Jinak tě ani ten tvůj pěkný ksichtík nezachrání. Teď jedeme do mého bytu. A hejbni sebou, čeká mě ještě spousta práce,“ oznámil po chvíli, dívaje se bez zájmu ven z okna. Řidič beze slov nastartoval a rozjel se.Míjející krajina venku se začala rozmazávat. Barvy se mísily jedna z druhou a vytvářely surrealistické obrazy podobné těm Van Goghovým. Jim to chvíli pozoroval, a když se tázavě otočil na svého řidiče, uvědomil si, že ho není schopný zaměřit. Obraz před ním skákal a rozdvojoval se.„Co se to…“ zamumlal nesrozumitelně a rychle zamrkal. Řidič se neotočil ani nijak nereagoval.„Počkej, ka- kam to jed- jedem,“ zeptal se nezřetelně Jim. Jazyk mu těžkl v ústech a měl problémy držet otevřené oči. Znovu prudce zamrkal a natáhl ruku, aby se dotkl ramene muže sedícího za volantem před ním. Jeho paže mu připadala desetkrát těžší.„Petere!“ zvolal naštvaně – ale jeho hlas už protkávala lehká panika. Lehce zatřásl jeho ramenem.Pomalu mu ochabovaly svaly – kelímek i s kafem mu vypadl z ruky a rozlil se mu na klíně. Jim byl momentálně velmi rád, že nápoj nebyl horký, ale teplý. Mobil ležel netknutě na sedadle vedle. Naposledy sáhnul na kliku u dveří – ale ty se neotevřely, byly zamčené.Jim sáhl pro svou pistoli, ale se svými necitlivými prsty, ji nebyl schopný uchopit.„Ty svině,“ zaskřehotal naposled, než prohrál boj s bezvědomým. Oči se mu zavřely a jeho bezvládné tělo se sesunulo v sedadle, drženo ve vertikální poloze už jen bezpečnostními pásy.Peter pohlédl do zpětného zrcátka, a když viděl svého šéfa, tak se usmál a tiše si oddechl.Na chvíli zastavil a natáhl se k zadnímu sedadlu pro Jimův mobil a vyhodil ho z okna. Věděl, že tam má sledovací čip, aby ho v případě únosu mohli jeho lidé vypátrat.Teď už zbývalo ho jenom doručit doktorovi a potom si zahrát na chudinku nového nezkušeného agenta před Holmesem a peníze byly jeho.Čekala ho ještě dlouhá cesta. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Venku bylo sotva vidět na pár kroků dopředu. Mlha se tiše rozšířila po celém městě tiše a nenápadně, plnila plíce chodců, kteří se v ní ztráceli na cestě do práce. Chvílema se spustil studený déšť, jehož kapky byly jako ostré jehličky, které se mísily s vodou na chodníku. Každá kapka, která padla na odhalenou kůži, štípala, jako když se ostré jehličky zabodávají do kůže. Bubnovaly na povrch deštníku, až téměř ohlušovaly jeho nositele.Mycroft Holmes rychle kráčel do své kanceláře. Jeho černé, kožené polobotky se stihly promočit po pár krocích z auta a nyní mu v něm čvachtala voda - ale nic z toho ho netrápilo. Počasí odpovídalo jeho náladě. Ponuré. Temné.Ráno dostal velice naléhavý telefonát.James Moriarty zmizel. Beze stopy. Na cestě ze své kanceláře. Podle kamerových záznamů ani nedorazil do svého bytu.Mycroft tušil, že Moriarty musí vědět o tom, že o něm tajná služba ví. Že ho sleduje. Nejspíš se rozhodl zmizet ze své vlastní vůle. Což byl problém. Muž jako on musí být pod dohledem. Proto starší Holmes právem zuřil – jeho agent ho měl mít pod dohledem! Proto první věc toto ráno byl Peterův výslech. Byl to mladý agent, nepříliš zkušený, ale s velikým potenciálem. Byla by škoda ho muset propustit – nebo dokonce zavřít.Mycroft vstoupil do haly a odložil deštník do jednoho ze stojanů u dveří.Jeho tvář byla kamenně chladná, ale uvnitř zuřil. Tohle nebude příjemný pohovor. A co hůř – jeho bratříček se s ním chce odpoledne vidět. Bude těžké před ním cokoliv skrýt.Netrvalo dlouho a stál přede dveřmi do výslechové místnosti. Do té samé, ve které držívali Jamese Moriartyho – no není to krásná náhoda? Mycroft si upravil kravatu, uhladil vlasy, pozvedl bradu a vstoupil dovnitř.Peter Simmons sedět za stolem, kelímek se studenou kávou z automatu v ruce, hlavu sklopenou, vyděšený pohled – takhle rozhodně nevypadá někdo, kdo by spolupracoval s Jamesem Moriartym. Možná není špeh, po kterém pátrají – přesto je nutné ho vyslechnout.„Agente Simmonsi, dlouho jsme se neviděli. Jak se má matka? Co její záda?“ prohodil Mycroft ještě předtím, než usedl do židle naproti mladému muži.Peter překvapeně vzhlédl. „Pane Holmesi! Ehm, dobře. Děkuju za optání,“ vykoktal ze sebe.Mycroft ho změřil pohledem, než se posadil. Položil si ruce na stůl, provlékl si prsty a zadíval se do očí muže naproti němu.„Víte, proč jste tady, že? Agente Simmonsi.“„Ano, pane.“„Tak mi povězte, kdy jste Jamese Moriartyho viděl naposledy. Včera odpoledne jste dělal co?“ zeptal se chladným hlasem Mycroft.„Byl jsem ve svém dočasném bytě, v tom, co jste mi přidělil pro mou roli řidiče Straky-„Mycroft ostře přikývl.„Potom jsem dostal zprávu, že mám šéfa, ehm, tedy Straku vyzvednout v kanceláři-„„No a pak?!“ vmísil se starší muž netrpělivě.„Když jsem dorazil ke kanceláři, tak Straka nikde nebyla-„Mycroft si povzdechl. „Tady mu můžete říkat Moriarty, všichni víme, o koho se jedná.“„No tak jsem informoval jeho lidi. A ti ho začali shánět. Vypadalo to dost věrohodně. Myslím to pátrání. Ale spíš mám takový dojem, že uprchl do zahraničí-“„Dělání závěrů nechte na nás, ano pane Simmonsi,“ starší Holmes protočil oči. „Takže vůbec nemáte tušení, kde by se teď mohl nacházet?“Mladší muž nervózně polknul. „Ne, pane.“Mycroft přimhouřil oči a založil si ruce na stole.„Víte, že mě můžete říct všechno. Momentálně se pokoušíme vypátrat, kdo ho viděl naposledy. Vy jste to tedy určitě nebyl?“„Ne, pane. Pokud vím, tak měl mít předtím schůzi.“Mycroft si povzdechl. Tenhle mladík dělal svou práci přesně tak, jak měl. Tohle byla slepá ulička. Bylo ovšem nutné ho suspendovat – rutinní záležitost.„V pořádku. To je všechno agente. Ještě u Vás proběhne rutinní psychologické vyšetření a potom si vezmete placenou třítýdenní dovolenou. Děkuji za spolupráci,“ oznámil starší Holmes, načež bez dalších slov vstal a vyšel z výslechové místnosti, nechaje zmateného a vynervovaného muže za ním.Peter si vnitřně oddechl. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Vědomí přicházelo k Jimovi pomalu. Nejdříve cítil bolest hlavy – migrénu. Jeho spánky mu pulsovaly neskutečnou, až oslepující bolestí. Když byl po chvíli schopný se trochu zorientovat, uvědomil si, že leží na studeném, tvrdém povrchu. Experimentálně se pokusil pohnout rukou - nebyl překvapený zjistit, že v zápěstí byla uvázaná. Téměř současně se pokusil zvednout kotník, ale bylo to marné – teď už byl schopný i cítit pevná pouta, kterými byl uvázán pravděpodobně k nějaké desce. Chvíli čekal, než se pokusí otevřít oči. Byl si naprosto jistý, že mu přímo do obličeje svítí ostré světlo, které bylo schopné proniknout i skrze jeho oční víčka, která nyní prosvítala červenou barvou.Celé jeho tělo bylo znecitlivělé a slabé. Citlivost se vracela pomalu. Chladný okolní vzduch mu způsoboval husí kůži – někdo ho v bezvědomí svléknul a on se nyní ocital kompletně nahý. První jeho myšlenka zněla: Co se stalo s mým Westwoodem?! Načež se ozvala druhá, racionálnější myšlenka: Co je tohle za místo a co se stalo.Snažil se zaměstnat všechny své smysly a zjistit nejvíc, co se dalo. Místnost, ve které byl, byla chladná, osvícená ostrým světlem. Jim ležel na zádech, připoutaný k nějakému nejspíš kovovému lůžku za oba kotníky i zápěstí, jeden z pásů měl upoután ještě kolem krku a jeden silnější pás přes břicho. Všude kolem něj byl cítit septický nemocniční zápach – že by byl v nemocnici?Jim se zaposlouchal do relativního ticha místnosti. Slyšel sám sebe tiše oddechovat, bzučivý zvuk, který vydávaly zářivky někde nad jeho hlavou, a k jeho překvapení slyšel dech někoho dalšího.Závěr: v místnosti nebyl sám.Jim se pokusil otevřít jedno oční víčko. Dříve než stačil cokoliv spatřit, mu jeho zornici zavalilo zářivé bílé světlo. Ostrá bolest mu projela mozkem. Ne, špatný nápad. S úšklebkem ho zase rychle zavřel.Zaskřípání kovových noh na podlaze mu oznámilo, že druhá osoba vstala ze židle. Tiché, ale vyrovnané kroky se pomalu přibližovaly k desce, či stolu, na kterém byl uvázán. Teplá dlaň se dotkla jeho tváře. Jim reflexivně ucuknul.„Šššš. Vím, že teď musíš být naprosto zmatený, ale všechno se brzy vyjasní,“ ozval se sladký mužský hlas těsně nad jeho hlavou. Zněl povědomě.„Je mi líto, ale ta světla ztlumit nemůžu, byla by tu špatná viditelnost a nechceme, aby naše prohlídka šla špatně, že?“Jim se zamračil. Dlaň ho jemně hladila po tváři, a ačkoliv se mladší muž pokoušel nechtěnému dotyku uhnout, nebylo kam. Znovu se rozhodl zkusit otevřít oči – tentokrát opatrněji, pomaleji. Pozvolna se před ním objevila rozostřená postava staršího muže v bílém plášti. Jim párkrát zamrkal a obraz se rozjasnil. Vzpomínky toho, co se stalo před tím, než upadl do bezvědomí, se mu vrátily rychlostí blesku.Jim se pokusil odpovědět, odseknout, nadávat, ale jeho jazyk nespolupracoval. Ležel v ústech, jako leklá ryba. Z hrdla se mu vydralo chraplavé zasténání.„Nesnaž se mluvit, Jimmy, sedativa ještě neodezněla a upřímně, není to nutné,“ odpověděl muž v bílém plášti a potom si povzdechl.„No hádám, že je načase začít.“Dlaň opustila jeho tvář a doktor se lehce vzdálil k malému kovovému stolku nedaleko stolu, na kterém Jim ležel připoutaný. Oči druhého muže se ho zoufale pokoušely sledovat, ale nebylo snadné jakkoliv hýbat hlavou. Kdykoliv tak Jim učinil, projela mu mozkem oslepující bolest. Slyšel tiché broukání a cinkání kovu, jak se starší muž nejspíš přehrabuje v nějakém lékařském náčiní.Jimův zpomalený, bolavý mozek si náhle dal do kupy všechny podněty a zjištění a došel k překvapivému závěru.Tohle byl ten muž, který unášel a mučil lidi v okolí Londýna. Ten samý, co unesl a zavraždil Nikolaje Pivovarova. Tohle byl Londýnský Přízrak.A teď má jeho.° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * „Táta. Řekni táta.“„Řekni Sherlock! Sheer – lock.“„Sherlocku, nepleť ji hlavu,“ zamračil se John a znovu se obrátil na svojí malou dcerku, která seděla spokojeně na gauči a okusovala nějakou plastovou dětskou hračku. Sherlock protočil oči a obrátil pozornost ke svému notebooku. Projížděl si pitevní zprávu Nikolaje Pivovarova a stále mu tam něco chybělo. Něco bylo špatně.A zrovna, když by si potřeboval promluvit se svým bratrem, tak ten nemá čas. Prý otázka národní bezpečnosti. Sherlock si odfrknul.„Něco tu nesedí, celá tahle vražda je jiná. Nikolaj zemřel z jiného důvodu, než ostatní oběti. Z těch ostatních náš vrah nechtěl žádné informace - spíše se zdá, že je mučil pro zábavu, ale tenhle - tenhle byl vyslýchán,“ mumlal si pro sebe naštvaně mladší muž.John si za jeho zády povzdechl. „To přece neznamená-“„Není náhoda, že zrovna Nikolaj Pivovarov měl vazby na Jamese Moriartyho!“ přerušil ho ostře Sherlock. Potom si promnul horní ret v zamyšlení.„Co když je to skutečně jenom další hra?“„Ach, prosím ne znovu tuhle teorii,“ zasténal John. Sherlock vstal ze svého křesla a začal pomalu přecházet po místnosti.„Přemýšlej, Johne! Jsou to malá vodítka - tápal jsem, a proto tahle vražda! Chce mi naznačit, že je opět tam venku. Je to jako pobídka, pojď si se mnou hrát…“„Sherlocku, tohle už hraničí s obsesí,“ řekl tvrdým hlasem druhý muž.Sherlock krátce pohlédl na svého přítele, sedícího před gaučem, na kterém si hrála Rosie.„Nejsem posedlý Moriartym,“ odsekl tiše.„Ano! Ano jsi posedlý! Moriarty je mrtvý! Díky Bohu! Všichni jsme rádi – i ty jsi rád, že je mrtvý, nebo snad ne?!“ odpověděl se zvýšeným hlasem John. Sherlock mlčel a vyhlížel z okna na deštěm zmáčenou ulici.„Musím si promluvit s Mycroftem,“ oznámil po chvíli krátce Sherlock.John se chvíli tvářil jako opařený. „To snad není pravda! Ty jsi jím skutečně posedlý. Byl bys nejraději, kdyby se ten psychopat zase vrátil a znovu ohrožoval životy nás všech? Mě, Molly, paní Hudsonové, Lestrada,“ starší muž se na chvíli odmlčel, „malé Rosie?“„Samozřejmě, že ne. Nebuď absurdní, Johne.“Druhý muž už div nekřičel. „Jak absurdní! Vždyť je to pravda! Dokola ho pořád vidíš za každým případem – Moriarty tohle, Moriarty támhleto. Dokonce i Mary to viděla, proč by jinak nadepsala to DVD s jejím-„ jeho hlas se zadrhl, „posmrtným vzkazem větou: Chyběl jsem ti?“Malá Rosie začala pofňukávat. Nejspíše vycítila zhušťující se atmosféru mezi dvěma muži.Sherlock si tiše povzdechl a pomalu se otočil ke svému příteli.„Nikdy nedovolím, aby se vám znovu něco stalo. Nikdy,“ oznámil tvrdým hlasem, očima se zavrtával do Johnových tmavě šedých.„Tak už toho nech. Zapomeň na něj,“ zašeptal druhý muž.Sherlock mlčel. John se otočil k Rosie a snažil se ji rozveselit chrastítkem. Za chvíli byt opět naplnil veselý dětský smích.Sherlocka vytrhlo ze zamyšlení vyzvánění jeho telefonu. Ihned ho zvedl a pohlédl na číslo volajícího. Jeho bratr.„Zdravím bratříčku, jak se máme tohle krásné odpoledne?“ zeptal se sarkasticky Sherlock. Z druhého konce se ozvalo podrážděné povzdechnutí.„Nemám náladu na žertování, Sherlocku. Co jsi chtěl?“„Chtěl bych veškeré informace, které máš na Nikolaje Pivovarova. Známý ruský mafián – dříve měl vazby na Jamese Moriartyho,“ oznámil nonšalantně mladší bratr.„Jistě, bratříčku. Pošlu je hned, jak budu moct. Jak jinak ti mám ještě posloužit?“ zadrmolil hlas z druhého konce.„Proč byl k vraždám Londýnského Přízraku přidělen nový patolog?“Mycroft dlouho mlčel. „Nemám tušení, o čem to mluvíš. Nikoho nového jsem tam neposílal.“„Doktor Sky. Říká ti to jméno něco? Tvůj úřad ho tam musel poslat,“ odpověděl mladší muž.„Prověřím to. Ještě něco?“Sherlock bez dalšího slova jediným klinutím zavěsil. Chvíli stál nehybně uprostřed pokoje a přemýšlel. Pokud nikdo z Mycroftova úřadu nepřidělil nového patologa, tak kdo? Molly odváděla výbornou práci, nedávalo smysl ji jakkoliv nahrazovat. A ten nový patolog, něco na něm nesedělo. A co tam vůbec dělá? Co dělal předtím? Odkud ho tam poslali? Kdo ho tam poslal?„A kdo je sakra vůbec Doktor Sky?“ prohlásil nahlas.„Cože?“ ozval se za ním překvapeně John. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Sebastian Moran se pokoušel nepanikařit. Snažil se udržet si racionální myšlení, protože pro všechno existuje nějaké jednoduché vysvětlení. Nic není záhada.Jenže jak vysvětlit, kam teda zmizel nejnebezpečnější muž v Británii - možná na celém světě - James Moriarty? Proč mu neodpovídá na zprávy a nezvedá telefony.Nejdříve se Sebastian uklidňoval tím, že si šéf chce třeba jenom odpočinout, ale poté, co se neozval ani ráno a celý zbytek dne až do večera a klienti si začali stěžovat na nedostatek komunikace, se rozhodl aktivovat sledovací čip, který překvapivě nefungoval.Něco bylo v nepořádku. Jimovi se něco stalo.Sebastian obvolával veškeré možné agenty a lidi, kteří by mohli něco tušit. Zoufale se vyhýbal jednomu konkrétnímu kontaktu – jejich jediný agent pracující v relativní blízkosti Mycrofta Holmese. Každé jeho kontaktování bylo riskantní; vždy tu byla možnost, že ho tajná služba sleduje, tak jako většinu vlastních zaměstnanců. Ale po mnoha marných telefonátech mu nezbývalo nic jiného, než mu zavolat na speciální šifrované číslo.Po třetím vyzvánění mu zvedl telefon.„Haló?“ ozval se hrubý mužský hlas z druhého konce.„Zdravím Čápe, tady Tygr.“„Ah, samozřejmě,“ odpověděl okamžitě druhý hlas. „Rád tě zase slyším, Tygře. Co potřebuješ?“„Potřebuju vědět všechno, co Iceman ví o Strace. Okamžitě, nejvyšší level utajení,“ oznámil Sebastian tvrdým hlasem.„Už nějakou dobu ví, že je naživu. Sleduje ho MI5. Ale o tom jsem šéfa informoval nedávno-“„Já vím. Zajímá mě, co se děje momentálně. Jakékoliv nové zprávy ohledně Straky?“ Sebastianův hlas nabral trochu zoufalý nádech. Druhý muž chvíli mlčel.„Od rána je tu trochu zmatek. Iceman z neznámého důvodu zuří. Nikdo nemá tušení proč – dopoledne vyslýchal nějakého mladého agenta. Může to s ním mít nějakou spojitost, ale zatím si nemůžu být jistý. Pokusím se zjistit víc. Stalo se něco? Chce se mnou šéf mluvit?“„Momentálně nemá čas. Informuj mě o všem, co se dozvíš,“ odpověděl snajpr a zavěsil.Tohle vůbec nevypadá dobře. Kde jsi, Jime? ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Jim Moriarty se pokoušel nepanikařit. Snažil se udržet si racionální myšlení, protože ačkoliv byl nyní v rukou sadistického, psychotického sériového vraha-Dobře. Možná nebyl nejlepší nápad si připomínat, v jaké situaci se momentálně nachází. Musel mít víru v to, že ho jeho agenti co nejdříve najdou. Nebo Sherlock. Jistě, Sherlock ho najde, žádný strach. Do té doby se nenechá zlomit nějakým bláznivým-„Začneme rutinním lékařským vyšetřením. Snaž se relaxovat,“ ozval se znenadání nad ním doktorův hlas. V ruce držel nějaký lékařský přístroj – vypadalo to jako nějaká podivně tvarovaná lupa s malým světýlkem. Jednou rukou v latexové rukavici mu hrubě otevřel jedno oční víčko a zasvítil mu do oka drobným světýlkem. Jim zasténal a pokoušel se uhnout, ale ruka mu držela hlavu v nehybné pozici.Doktor začal nahlas mluvit nejspíše do nějakého nahrávacího zařízení. „Experiment č. 46- muž, běloch, Irský původ, věk okolo 40 let,“ hlas se na moment odmlčel a světlo se přesunulo do jeho druhého oka. „Barva očí středně hnědá.“Muž v plášti mu pustil hlavu a zhasl světýlko. Ihned na to se otočil a položil přístroj zpět na stolek. Jim se snažil blikáním odehnat bělavé skvrny, které mu lítaly pře očima.„Váha-„ ozval se po chvilce opět doktor. Nahnul se a podíval se někde na hranu kovového stolu. „65 kilo.“Jim cítil, jak se mu pomalu vrací síla do končetin a pokusil se uvolnit levé zápěstí. Druhý muž se dál věnoval svému vyšetření.„Výška 173 cm, štíhlá postava, velmi světlá pleť,“ pokračoval monotónním hlasem doktor Sky. Trochu to znělo, jakoby trousil své postřehy, jak mu přicházely na mysl. Pouta byla pevná a ani se nehnula, jakkoliv se Jim snažil. Starší muž se na moment vytratil z jeho zorného pole.„Barva vlasů,“Další věc co cítil, byla ruka prohrabávající mu jeho vlasy. Jim zasténal bolestí, když mu nová bolest explodovala v hlavě. Cítil, jak ho druhý muž tahá za vlasy a detailně si je prohlíží.„Temně hnědá až černá.“Doktor se na chvíli odmlčel, jakoby se zamyslel. „Typický černý Ir – krásný exemplář.“ S tím upustil Jimovy vlasy a opět přešel ke stolku s přístroji.Druhý muž konečně našel svůj hlas. „Mohl bych alespoň poprosit o jméno váženého pána? Teď, když už se známe intimněji,“ zaskřehotal. Doktor chvíli nijak nereagoval, potom se ale otočil a se zamračením ve tváři chladně odpověděl.„Nemluv a otevři ústa.“„Alespoň bys mi mohl koupit drink, než-“ Doktor mu hrubě otevřel ústa a mezi stoličky mu vrazil nějaké dva kusy gumy, kterou Jim nemohl vyplivnout a která bezpečně držela jeho čelist široce rozevřenou. Doktor začal studovat jeho zuby.„Zuby jsou relativně v dobrém stavu. Špičáky a horní dvojky jsou neobvykle špičaté – to a jeho komentáře mu v budoucnu vyslouží náhubek,“ zadrmolil starší muž. Jim se pokusil zasmát, ale z jeho hrdla vyšel jen jakýsi chrochtavý zvuk. Doktor se zamračil a jedním rychlým pohybem vytáhnul kousky gumy mladšímu muži z úst. Ten si párkrát procvičil čelist, aby se zbavil její momentální ztuhlosti.„Přejdeme k další části – genitální a rektální vyšetření,“ oznámil suše druhý muž.„Wow, už? Dlouho jsem neslyšel tak poetický eufemizmus. Natáčíme tu nějaký film? Nech mě vžít se do role,“ Jim zavřel oči a chvíli to vypadalo, jako když se soustředí, potom je pomalu otevřel a s úlisným úsměvem namířeným a doktora zašeptal: „Pusťte se do toho, doktore,“ mrknul jedním okem na muže stojícího nad ním, načež se hlasitě zasmál.Chvíli se rozlehlo ticho, ani jeden z mužů se nehnul.„Cole, přines náhubek a sedativum. Máme tady potížistu,“ zvolal doktor nahlas, přecházejíc k nedaleké lince, vysunul šuplík plný injekčních stříkaček. Jednu vytáhl a vybalil novou jehlu. Jim se ho pokoušel sledovat, ale s pásem kolem krku bylo těžké otáčet hlavou.„Odkud vůbec víš, že jsem na tohle svazování? Není to zrovna shibari, no ale každý děláme, co můžeme, eh? A ten náhubek zní lahodně! Přiznávám, že jsem trochu masochista!“ ušklíbl se Jim. Starší muž ho změřil chladným pohledem, zatímco čekal na svého asistenta. Potom se chladně usmál.„On tě ten humor brzy přejde, Jimmy.“Do místnosti vešel mladší muž v bílém plášti a rychle bez jediného slova předal staršímu muži požadované položky a ihned odkráčel. Jim ani nespatřil jeho obličej.Druhý muž natáhl do injekce čirou tekutinu z malé ampulky.„Teď to malinko štípne…“„Bože, já doufám, že hodně!“ ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * „Žádal jsem tě mnohokrát, abys sem bez ohlášení nechodil,“ pronesl kousavě Mycroft, vcházeje do své kanceláře, za sebou zabouchl dveře a přešel ke svému stolu. Před ním seděl jeho mladší bratr a samozřejmě, jeho přítel John byl hned vedle.Oba je změřil podrážděným pohledem, potom se posadil, uhladil si kravatu a opřel se o opěradlo židle. „Zrovna není nejvhodnější doba na povídání, mám práci.“„To je ten důvod proč jsi mi ještě neposlal ty spisy, o které jsem včera žádal?“ zeptal se nonšalantně mladší Holmes.„Řekl jsem, že je pošlu hned, jak budu moct. Doteď jsem se nezastavil,“ odpověděl naštvaně Mycroft. Potom si promnul čelo. „Oznámím Anthee, ať ti je pošle co nejdřív.“Sherlock beze slov přikývl.„Co se vlastně děje? Všichni tam kolem lítají, jak pobláznění,“ otázal se John, palcem ukazujíc na dveře kanceláře.„Nic, co by zrovna vás dva mělo zajímat. Přísně tajné. Národní-“„Národní bezpečnost. Vždyť víš, bratříčku nejdražší, že tohle mě nikdy neodradilo od toho, abych přišel na to, o co jde. Spíš naopak,“ vmísil se Sherlock.Mycroft si povzdechl. „Do tohohle se nepleť, Sherlocku, já tě prosím.“„No ne, to neslyším často,“ odfrknul si mladší bratr.John si poposedl v křesle. „Jde taky o toho nového patologa, už víš, kdo ho tam poslal?“ zeptal se.„Ach jistě, Doktor Sky,“ Mycroft se natáhl pro spis ležící na stole před ním a otevřel ho. „Očividně ho tam poslala rada. Podle jeho životopisu to je specialista na násilné vraždy, jeho nedávná studie o bodných ranách byla, podle lékařské komory, excelentní - zdá se, že má docela renomé v lékařském světě. Osm let sloužil v armádě – vy jste o něm nikdy neslyšel, doktore Watsone?“„Ne,“ zamračil se John. „To jméno mi nic neříká.“„Co dál o něm víme? Detaily - co jeho rodina?“ naléhal Sherlock.Mycroft se znovu zadíval do spisu. Pomalu otočil pár stránek a zamračil se. „Nic moc, překvapivě. Žena mu zemřela na rakovinu – byla dost mladá. Žádné děti. Žádní registrovaní příbuzní.“ Mycroft zaklapl složku a odhodil ji na stůl. „A proč to vůbec chcete vědět? Co to má co dělat s těmi vraždami?“„Nějak se mi ten doktor nezdá,“ zamumlal Sherlock. John se podíval na Mycrofta.„Kdy mu zemřela žena?“„Skoro před deseti lety, ale nevím proč-“ John Mycrofta hrubě přerušil.„Když mu zemřela žena, určitě chodil na terapie k psychiatrovi,“ John se odmlčel a polknul. „Máte také záznamy z těch jeho sezení?“Mycroft se ušklíbl. „Jako doktor moc dobře víte, že veškeré lékařské záznamy jsou důvěrné-“„Máš je, nebo ne?“ vmísil se ostře Sherlock. Mycroft se na moment zarazil, potom se pomalu předklonil, otevřel složku, vytáhl štos papírů a podal je svému bratrovi.„Pokud se někdo dozví, že jsem ti je poskytl-“ zavrčel naštvaně starší bratr. Sherlock ale už vstával a s papíry v ruce si to štrádoval směrem ke dveřím.„Díky,“ zvolal vesele naposled, než prošel dveřmi.John vyskočil z křesla a běžel za ním. Chvíli šli tiše chodbou, zatímco míjeli všemožné agenty a vládní pracovníky přebíhajíc sem a tam. Všichni byli očividně nervózní a ve stresu. Něco důležitého se muselo stát.„To byl dobrý nápad - ten s těmi lékařskými záznamy,“ prohodil tiše Sherlock směrem k Johnovi. Ten se jen smutně usmál.„Vím jaké to je když,“ zadrhl se mu trochu hlas. „Když ti umře žena. A nikdo se s tím nedokáže vypořádat sám. Tohle je ta nejsnazší cesta, jak se o něm dozvědět víc. Psychiatrovi řekneš všechno. A psychiatr tě má přečteného.“Oba přešli k výtahu a s povolením vstoupili dovnitř.„Doufejme. Ten chlap je prostě…divný. Nemáš z něj takový divný pocit?“John se zamyslel. „Přijde mi, že něco tají.“Sherlock se usmál a koutkem oka pohlédl na svého přítele. „Přesně.“„Mám na mysli - proč by vůbec přidělovali nového patologa? Tak najednou. Myslíš, že je v nějakém spojení s naším vrahem?“„Přesně to si myslím.“Sherlock stál nehybně vedle svého přítele a sledoval měnící se čísla na malém panelu před ním. Výtah se zastavil a oba vyšli ven.„A také si myslím, že jsme blízko. Proto náš vrah zpanikařil a poslal tohohle doktora,“ Sherlock se zašklebil, „aby mazal stopy.“Oba muži vyšli ven na čerstvý chladný vzduch a mávli na nejbližší projíždějící taxi. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Doktor Sky přešel k malému umyvadlu ve spoře zařízené koupelně. V zrcadle si všiml přibližující postavy za ním. Cole zaklepal na otevřené dveře, doktor kývl a druhý muž tiše vstoupil. Chvíli bylo ticho protkané pouze zvukem tekoucí vody v umyvadle.„Ten detektiv něco tuší, že ano?“ prohlásil do ticha místnosti starší muž.Cole přikývl. „Je skutečně dobrý, momentálně o něm zjišťujeme veškeré informace, jak jste žádal.“Doktor sledoval, jak se rudá krev smývá z jeho dlaní, mísí se s tekoucí vodou a mizí v odtokovém kanálku.„Možná by se mohl stát součástí mého výzkumu, co říkáte, Cole?“Muž za ním se chladně usmál. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Mé jméno je Anthony Sky. Celý život jsem byl fascinován lidským tělem, biologií a psychologií. Mé tajné pokusy na pacientech během mé lékařské praxe se ukázaly být nedostatečné a chvílema i velice riskantní. Chci se o lidských fyzických a psychických možnostech a schopnostech dozvědět co nejvíc – to ovšem není možné bez lékařských experimentů, které jsou podle mínění většiny lidí neetické. Proto jsem započal svůj projekt s názvem Škola Poslušnosti (The School of Obedience). Cílem tohoto projektu je zajít až za hranice fyzických a psychických možností mých pečlivě vybraných subjektů, kompletně zlomit a rozebrat jejich osobnost a složit z nich nového člověka. Loutku, jež by bez jakýchkoliv pochyb plnila veškeré mé rozkazy. Pomocí pečlivě vybraných lékařských experimentů a psychologického mučení jsem u některých jedinců dosáhl neuvěřitelných výsledků. Bohužel většina z mých experimentů končí neúspěchem. Pevně doufám, že můj nový subjekt bude první naprostý úspěch a stane se průlomem v mém výzkumu. Experiment č. 46 (James Moriarty) ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Jim se probudil v panice. Cítil, jak se jeho plíce zoufale pokouší nadechnout, na jeho prsou jakoby stál slon, hlava se mu motala a celé jeho tělo křičelo: kyslík!Když doširoka otevřel oči a pohlédl před sebe, jeho kyslíkem deprivovaný mozek ihned rozpoznal postavu z předešlého dne – doktor Sky stál nad ním a držel mu nos. Jim škubnul hlavou a doktor mu ho pustil. Následovala chvíle ticha, přerušovaná pouze zoufalými chraptivými nádechy nosem, jak se Jim pokoušel uklidnit svůj instinkt se zhluboka nadechnout. „Už bylo načase,“ prohodil konverzačně druhý muž. Jim na něj přimhouřil oči, zatímco dál křečovitě dýchal nosem. Jinak to nešlo - jeho ústa byla zacpaná náhubkem s roubíkem. Celé jeho tělo se třáslo odeznívajícím adrenalinem.Doktor ho krátce změřil chladným pohledem. „Původně jsem měl v plánu to udělat, zatímco jsi byl v bezvědomí, ale přece nebudu jediný, kdo si užívá.“Jim pokračoval v zírání na muže nad ním. Doktor přecházel po laboratoři a připravoval si nějaké nástroje.„Poprvé je to obvykle nepříjemné, ale pevně věřím, že si na to tady brzy zvykneš.“Jim se zoufale pokoušel otočit hlavou, aby mohl sledovat, co si starší muž připravuje na stole pár metrů od něj. Po chvilce doktor přešel ke kovovému stolu, ke kterému ležel připoutaný Jim, uvolnil mu jednu nohu a přichytil ji kousek ke hraně stolu, to samé udělal s druhou, potom se otočil a vzal malý nafukovací polštářek a vložil ho Jimovi pod zadek, částečně pod bedra – nyní byla spodní část jeho těla o trochu výše než horní, jeho nohy byly lehce roztažené a doktor měl neomezený výhled na jeho genitálie. Jim sebou trochu nervózně cukl, ale cítil, že ho drogy, které mu píchli, stále držely ve svých spárech a nedovolovaly mu se příliš hýbat. Připadal si jako ležící hadrová panenka.„Tak, teď se zhluboka nadechni,“ zašeptal do ticha místnosti doktor Sky, potom mu bez jakéhokoliv dalšího varování vrazil nějakou tenkou trubičku do řitního otvoru. Jim sebou překvapením škubnul a zavrčel.„Pššt. Zhluboka dýchej a snaž se relaxovat, čím víc budeš bojovat, tím nepříjemnější to bude.“Jim se snažil uvolnit – zavřel oči a počítal do sta, než se dostal k deseti, začal cítit, jak se mu do břicha valí teplá tekutina. Překvapeně vytřeštil oči a znovu sebou škubl. Doktor se zamračil a zmáčkl průhlednou nádržku s vodou zavěšenou kousek vedle na kovovém věšáku. Tlak v břiše jenom zesiloval.Opět pevně zavřel oči a pokoušel se počítat, ovšem netrvalo dlouho a tlak začal být skutečně nepříjemný a potom přišly první křeče. Jim zasténal bolestí.„Já vím, že je to nepříjemné,“ řekl doktor hlasem s nádechem falešné lítosti. Jim pokračoval v tichém sténání a těžce oddechoval. Starší muž se natáhl a začal Jima jemně hladit rukou v latexové rukavici po jeho holém nateklém břiše. Mladší muž už byl v takové bolesti, že si toho ani nevšiml.„Už jenom trošku - jsou to 3 litry, Jimmy. Žádná hrůza…zatím.“Jim cítil, jak mu po čele stéká kapička potu. Těžce oddechoval nosem a pokoušel se relaxovat. Není to přece poprvé, co podstupuje klystýr.„Tak to byla poslední kapka, teď to v sobě chvíli zadržíš a až ti řeknu, tak to všechno vypustíš ven – rozumíš?“ oznámil doktor, sundávaje prázdnou nádržku. Jim ležel bez hnutí a snažil se srovnat si dech. Každou chvílí mu břichem projela neskutečně silná křeč – statečně se ovšem snažil tvářit, jakoby se nic nedělo. Zatínal pěsti a čekal.Doktor ho chvíli pozoroval, přecházel po místnosti a přesunoval nějaké další nářadí. Potom s hlasitým falešným povzdechem přešel k trpícímu Jimovi, vyndal nafukovací polštářek zpod jeho zad a vytáhl hadičku.„Tak můžeš - neměj strach, ve stole jsou zabudované odtokové kanálky, stejně tak jako v pitevních stolech – navrhoval jsem ho podle nich.“Jim věděl, že celá tahle procedura byla jen za účelem ho ponížit, ale to se bude muset doktůrek snažit trochu víc. Jima jen tak něco neponíží – a že se i Mycroft činil. S hlubokým výdechem a s úšklebkem na tváři povolil všechny svaly a vypustil veškerou tekutinu, co měl ve střevech. Úleva to byla do té chvíle, než se mu teplá tekutina začala oblévat kolem lýtek a stehen. Doktor nesouhlasně zamlaskal jazykem a vzal do ruky hadici se sprchou – tu samou, jakou se omývají mrtvoly v márnici. Než však pustil vodu, všiml si úšklebku na Jimově tváři.„Něco ti přijde zábavné?“ zeptal se podrážděně.Jim se na něj jenom díval a nemohl si pomoct a cítil, jak mu úsměv tahá za oba koutky. Tenhle chlapík sice nebyl amatér, ale chvílema se tak choval.Jim přesunul svůj pohled na hadici, kterou držel druhý muž v ruce a povytáhl obočí, potom pohlédl doktorovi opět do očí a lascivně mrknul jedním okem. Viděl, jak se ruka druhého muže zatnula na držadle od hadice vztekem. Zatnul rty a pustil vodu, která Jima uhodila přímo do břicha. Byla ledová, ale alespoň ho dokázala omýt. Doktor si neodpustil nastříkat mu ji také do obličeje, což vyústilo v kašlání a další trhavé, těžké dýchání.Když byl mladší muž čistý, doktor vypl sprchu, uklidil ji, a potom třesoucího se Jima nastavil do polosedu. Jeho pohyby byly trhavé a podrážděné, což dělalo druhému muži radost. Nakonec si k němu přisunul kovovou stoličku a posadil se vedle stolu, čelící Jimovi.„Teď ti sundám ten náhubek a chci, abys odpovídal pouze na mé otázky a jinak mlčel. Dám ti něco k jídlu – važ si toho, není jisté, kdy dostaneš znovu najíst. Jsem si jistý, že už musíš mít hlad a není nutné se plýtvat síly na nějaké pletichaření ohledně jídla.“Jim po chvilce přemýšlení přikývl. Ne, že by měl chuť cokoliv jíst od tohohle magora, ale předpokládal, že do budoucna bude potřebovat energii.Starší muž mu opatrně sundal náhubek a Jim si opět procvičil čelist a olízl popraskané rty. Potom se usmál na doktora, který na něj varovně pohlédl, ale Jim mlčel.Jako na zavolání se po tichém zabzučení otevřely dveře a vešel mladší vysoký muž a v ruce nesl podnos s miskou nějaké polévky. Mlčky to předal doktorovi a zase rychle místnost opustil.Jim se nedíval na misku s polévkou, ale dále se zabodával pohledem do modrých očích svého věznitele.„Jak se lžíce přiblíží k tvým rtům, tak otevřeš ústa a budeš normálně, civilizovaně, v klidu jíst. Potom ti dám možná i něco k pití. Rozumíš? Odpověz!“ vyštěkl doktor.„Ano, pane.“„Dobře,“ zamumlal starší muž spokojeně, natahujíc se směrem k Jimovi, mu uvolnil pás kolem krku, který držel jeho hlavu v nehybné pozici. Potom nabral první lžíci a opatrně ji nabídl Jimovi. Ten spolkl první sousto – nepříliš výrazný zeleninový vývar. Mladší muž se zašklebil nechutí.„Něco je v nepořádku?“ zeptal se kousavě doktor, zatímco nabíral další lžíci.Jim se zatvářil zamyšleně. „No, teda nejsem žádný Gordon Ramsay, a ani nemám v úmyslu rejpat, ale ta polévka by snesla nějakou chuť.“„Ty asi nevíš, s kým si to zahráváš,“ zašeptal nebezpečně doktor. „Nemůžu se dočkat, až nakonec uhasím ty plamínky boje v tvých očích.“Jim se samolibě zašklebil, a jakmile v koutku oka zahlédl ruku se lžíci blízko své tváře, v mžiku vystřelil a zakousl se do masité dlaně staršího muže. Ten vykřikl bolestí a upustil lžíci, která spadla Jimovi na krk, potom se za stálého nadávání a křiku pokoušel uvolnit ze sevření zatnuté čelisti. Jim stiskl, jak nejvíce mohl, až ucítil v puse horkou krev a usmál se.„Ty malej bastarde!“ křičel starší muž a pevně, bolestivě stiskl Jimovi nos, dokud mladší muž nepustil. Potom, svíraje si svou krvácející ruku s vrčením vyběhl z místnosti, nechaje druhého muže samotného v laboratoři.Jim si olízl rty. Mnohem lepší.Doktor se vypotácel na chodbu mumlaje si nadávky pod fousy. Za tohle bude ta malá svině pykat! Vešel do jedné z místností, kde našel jednu ze svých asistentek, která ihned jak ho spatřila, vystřelila ze své židle a s vytřeštěnýma očima mu běžela naproti.„Proboha, co se stalo?“ ptala se nevěřícně, zatímco přikládala kousky savé látky na krvácející ránu.„Subjekt 46,“ zasyčel starší muž. Poté co se jeho asistentce podařila jakžtakž očistit ránu, viděl doktor obrys Jimových zubů a zlost mu zatemnila zrak.„Třicet ran bičem, potom ho chci umístit do Temné místnosti do naší nejmenší klece, ať se nemůže ani pohnout. Žádná voda ani jídlo, nechte ho tam přesně tři dny. Nechci o něm do té doby slyšet.“Asistentka jenom přikývla, nyní desinfikujíce doktorovi stále krvácející kousanec.„To chce stehy,“ zamumlala mladší žena.„Já vím!“ odsekl doktor Sky.Chvíli bylo ticho. Mladá asistentka odložila prázdnou injekční stříkačku z analgetiky a začala si připravovat nit a jehlu, aby zašila tu hlubokou ránu.„Tohle bude výzva. Je to složitější případ.“Mladší žena se usmála. „Nic, co byste nezvládl. Cítím, že je v něm velký potenciál. Důležité je nevzdávat to. Nezapomeňte si pak tu ruku omýt čistou vodou, až to zašiju. A protitetanová injekce bude potřeba. “„Stačí infikovat jeho Paměťový Palác - zjistit, co to je a jak se tam dostat, aby si toho nevšiml. Potom mu ho kompletně zničíme a vybudujeme vlastní. A jeho mysl bude naše.“ ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Sherlock studoval záznamy od psychiatra, kterého navštěvoval Doktor Sky. Krom typického zápisu ze sezení ohledně od kdy do kdy trvalo a jaké bylo téma konverzace, tam psychiatr dopsal i své osobní postřehy a domněnky.Sešli se jenom párkrát a potom byla sezení na žádost pana Skye ukončena. Sherlock se zamračil a znovu nalistoval první sezení. Zpočátku se zdálo, že Sky truchlí – nechtěl moc mluvit, vykazoval známky nespavosti, deprese a očividně snad i sebevražedné tendence. Druhé sezení, které se konalo o týden později, už ovšem vypadalo kompletně jinak. Podle záznamů psychiatra vešel do místnosti sebevědomý, vyrovnaný muž, bez jakéhokoliv trápení. Stále mluvil o své ženě, a jak mu chybí a co spolu měli v plánu a co dělali, ale zdálo se, že kdykoliv terapeut zavedl téma na jeho ženu, Sky to vždy nějak překroutil, aby mohl mluvit o sobě.U posledního sezení – celkem byly čtyři – doktor na poslední stránku dopsal: Diagnóza – psychopat; doporučuji ambulantní léčení a další psychiatrické zhodnocení. A potom nic víc.Sally Donovanová všem, včetně jeho samotného, tvrdila, že je psychopat. To bylo ovšem daleko od pravdy. Psychopati jsou těžcí rozeznat ve společnosti; obvykle jsou velice šarmantní, úspěšní, mají mnoho přátel, daří se jim v práci, mají rodinu, a pak z ničeho nic jim přeskočí a z fantazií se stane nutkání a začnou všechny kolem sebe rozeštvávat, kontrolovat a někdy i zraňovat či vraždit. Navíc, jejich egocentrická osobnost a kompletní absence empatie jim nedovoluje vidět či cítit, co způsobují.Jim Moriarty je jedním z takových.Sherlock si povzdechl a pokusil se vyhnat toho kriminálního konzultanta ze svých myšlenek.„Je to patologický lhář a manipulátor,“ prohlásil kousek od něj John. Mladší muž leknutím nadskočil, poněvadž zapomněl, že v bytě není sám.„Rád mluví jenom o sobě a svých úspěších, z těch záznamů mi připadá, jakoby mu vlastně bylo úplně jedno, že mu někdo blízký umřel,“ pokračoval John. Sherlock jenom tiše stál se spisem v rukou a hlavou plnou myšlenek.„Postrádá empatii, necítí bolest druhých lidí.“ Všechno to na tebe sedí, Jime - pomyslel si Sherlock, zatímco poslouchal svého přítele.„Psychopat,“ uzavřel John složku. Sherlock si pročistil mysl a přikývl.„Musíme najít toho psychiatra a promluvit si s ním, třeba ví něco víc,“ prohlásil detektiv, přecházejíc ke svému stolu, otevřel notebook a zapnul ho.„Jaké je jeho jméno – je to v tom spisu?“ zvolal přes rameno na svého přítele, zatímco psal heslo.John nalistoval první stránku. „Její. Helen Hartnett. Adresa tu není napsaná.“„Tady to máme. Helen Hartnett, bydlí ve… Skotsku? Město jménem Inverness. To je pořádně daleko.“„To abych si vzal dovolenou v práci, že?“ povzdechl si s úsměvem John. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Poslední týden byl pro Molly drsný. Celý Londýn a okolí se z nějakého důvodu naprosto pomátl a všichni se začali hromadně vraždit – to byl jediný možný důvod, proč jí do márnice každý den vozí přibližně pět těl. Pokaždé se z velké části jedná o muže, někdy i ženy, kteří zemřeli vždy podobnou násilnou smrtí.Proto se celé dva týdny nezastavila a jenom pitvala a seděla u mikroskopu – její sociální život byl opět neexistující. Sherlock se tu už dlouho neukázal, ani ji nepsal, neodpovídal na esemesky. A Molly byla právem naštvaná – Sherlock se totiž ukáže vždy, pouze když něco potřebuje. Alespoň měla v práci s kým mluvit a nemusela si brblat pro sebe od té doby, co nastoupil doktor Sky.Uslyšela prásknutí dveří a přibližující se kroky. My o vlku…Molly pohlédla na hodiny na stěně. Bylo pondělí ráno a doktor Sky přišel opět pozdě.„Ach, zdravím slečno Hooperová,“ vydechl starší muž, zatímco si pokládal papíry a složky na stůl.„Dobré ráno. Opět problémy s autem?“Doktor Sky zvedl ruku a podíval se na hodinky, „Krucinál! Zase jdu pozdě, že ano?“ zasmál se slabě.Molly si poprvé všimla jeho obvázané dlaně.„Propána, co se vám stalo?“Tvář druhého muže ihned zkameněla, „Pes mě pokousal,“ procedil mezi zuby. Molly vycítila, že se o tom doktor dál nechce bavit, a proto se vrátila zpět ke svému mikroskopu.„Jak jste si užila víkend, slečno Hooperová?“ zeptal se po chvíli. Molly sebou lehce trhla a vytáhla vzorek zpod mikroskopu, aby ho zaměnila za jiný.„Pracovala jsem, většinou,“ povzdechla si. Doktor za ní si sympaticky povzdechl.„A jak se má detektiv Holmes? Dlouho jsem ho tu neviděl.“„Sherlock se má…dobře. Taky pracuje, předpokládám,“ odsekla Molly a znovu se naklonila nad mikroskop.„Ach, jistě. Londýnský Přízrak – horký případ. Nevíte náhodou, jak daleko pokročil?“Molly přidala ke vzorku roztok, „Nemám tušení. Dokud sem nepřijde a nebude něco potřebovat, tak se to ani nedozvím.“Starší doktor se slabě usmál, zatímco si natahoval latexové rukavice.„Takže asi vůbec netušíte, jestli mají už nějaké podezřelé-“„Proč se ptáte?“ přerušila ho mladší žena. Sky se tvářil zaraženě.„Profesní zájem ohledně tohoto případu. Nic víc. Myslel jsem, že se vám svěřuje…“Molly přikývla s pevně sepnutými rty, „Nepřipadalo mi, že byste si padli do oka,“ přimhouřila oči. „Bydlí na 221B Baker Street. Můžete ho zkusit navštívit a zeptat se, ale neslibuju, že vůbec otevře dveře. Ale dnes nebude doma - letěl někam do Skotska, kvůli případu.“Doktor přikývl a usmál se. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Inverness bylo celkem malé, malebné skotské město. Sherlock chvíli ani nedoufal, že kousek od něj leželo letiště, na kterém před malou chvílí přistál soukromým letadlem – ale naštěstí tam bylo. Jeho bratr má očividně skutečně plné ruce práce, jinak by mu ho nikdy kvůli případu nezapůjčil – už to papírování a peněz co kolem toho bylo. Ale jak se zdálo, Mycroft touží po tom, aby se tento případ co nejrychleji uzavřel, a tak vyhověl Sherlockovi téměř ve všem.Neplánovali se tu zdržet dlouho a chtěli se ještě ten samý den vrátit zpět do Londýna. Proto si ihned na letišti zavolali taxíka a nechali se dovézt na adresu té psychiatričky. Jednalo se o celkem velký rodinný dům s oplocenou zahradou – paní Hartnettová si své klienty zvala právě sem.Sherlock doufal, že pokud bude předstírat zájem o její sezení, nebude problém se dostat dovnitř a s psychiatričkou si promluvit. John nebyl přesvědčený – vzhledem ke svým špatným zkušenostem se mu nelze divit.Sherlock zazvonil a oba s napětím čekali před brankou. Netrvalo dlouho a z domu vyšla hubená, asi čtyřicetiletá žena, v rychlosti přeběhla ode dveří k brance a pootevřela ji.„Dobré ráno, paní Hartnettová. Já a můj přítel bychom-“ začal Sherlock, ale byl vzápětí přerušen ženou naproti němu.„Přestaňte s tím divadlem. Já moc dobře vím, kdo jste detektive,“ Hartnettová pootevřela branku a rozhlédla se. „Pojďte dovnitř, stejně už vědí, že tu jste.“ A nechala oba muže vejít do zahrady.John se Sherlockem se na sebe překvapeně podívali a následovali psychiatričku do domu.John za sebou zabouchl dveře a žena je zavedla do salonku, kam se oba mlčky posadili. Doktorka Hartnettová jim nabídla čaj a poté, co byly šálky připraveny, si přisedla.„Vím, proč jste přišli a Anthony pravděpodobně také,“ prohlásila poté, co si usrkla svého horkého čaje. Sherlock přikývl a druhá žena pokračovala.„Anthony Sky – zdá se, že budu nadosmrti litovat, že jsem ho kdy přijala do své péče.“„Co nám o něm můžete říct? Četl jsem vaše záznamy-„„Ach, jistě. Ty záznamy. Anthony o nich ví,“ Helen si usrkla čaje. „Chtěl, abych je změnila, spálila, zničila. Vydíral a vyhrožoval mi poté, co jsem mu oznámila diagnózu. Nechtěl, aby se to dostalo na veřejnost. Doufala jsem, že…to je jedno. Teď už je všechno jedno.“Sherlock přimhouřil oči. „Co tím myslíte – měla jste nějaké podezření?“„Nejprve ne – jako každý psychopat je vynikající herec a lhář. Později se ale začal chovat divně – ten spis jste četl. No abych to zkrátila, jsem si téměř naprosto jistá, že svou ženu zavraždil. Nebyla to sebevražda – ne tak úplně.“„Takže jste zjistila, že svou ženu zabil. Informovala jste příslušné úřady, a co bylo pak?“ vmísil se John.„Potom mě začal sledovat. Jsem si jistá, že mám odposlouchávací zařízení v domě,“ Helen se trochu hystericky zasmála a napila se chladnoucího čaje. „Možná i kamery, kdo ví.“Sherlock se zamyslel. „Jak ji podle vás zabil?“Helen se zadívala do dálky, „Nezabil ji přímo, vlastníma rukama – on ji k té sebevraždě dohnal. Je to velice zkušený manipulátor, a ona byla podle všeho křehká žena. Často nemocná, introvertní. Přál si, aby do úmrtního listu bylo zapsáno, že příčinou smrti byla rakovina. Nejspíš kvůli církvi, nejsem si teď jistá,“ paní Hartnettová si poposedla v křesle a odložila šálek na stůl.„Nemůžu vám říct, jak konkrétně to udělal – jestli to bylo impulsivní rozhodnutí, nebo to plánovala už déle.“„Jak to, že ještě neztratil licenci? S takovouto diagnózou…“ zamračil se John.„Je to vlivný člověk, bohatý, nejspíš má kontakty,“ zamumlal detektiv, vytahujíce mobil, začal psát zprávu. Po chvíli ticha ukázal nenápadně displej paní doktorce. Myslíte si, že by byl schopen vraždit dál? Mrzačit a mučit jiné? Před jak dlouhou dobou, jste lékařskou komoru varovala ohledně jeho stavu? Psychiatrička ho vzala do ruky a rychle naklikala odpověď. Na chvíli se zarazila a pak ještě něco dopsala. O tom nemám pochyby. V červnu to bude deset let. Utíkejte detektive, už jsou na cestě. Moc se omlouvám Sherlock přikývl a urychleně vstal, „Bylo mi potěšením, paní Hartnettová. Jdeme Johne.“John se trochu zmateně rozhlédl, ale poté rychle dopil čaj, vstal a s rozloučením oba vyrazili ke dveřím jejího bytu.„Musíme kontaktovat Mycrofta, musí ho zatknout!“Sherlock mlčky přikývl a začal vytáčet číslo svého bratra.Ovšem hned jak prošli venkovními dveřmi, před domem je čekalo nepříjemné překvapení.„Zdravím, Sherlocku Holmesi.“ ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Jim byl probuzen kýblem studené vody, který mu někdo chrstl na hlavu. Jak mu chladná tekutina stékala po tváři, odolal pokušení si olíznout své popraskané rty a zaměřil pohled na osobu stojící nad ním – lépe řečeno nad jeho mini klecí.„Vstáváme Jimmy! Dnes tě čeká velice nabitý program!“ zvolal nějaký muž. Jim už ho jednou viděl – byl to určitě ten samý, co přinesl tomu magorovi ten náhubek a sedativa tuhle v laboratoři.„Ohh, my vypadáme nějak sklesle,“ ušklíbl se Cole, odemykaje klec, ve které byl Jim spoutaný, a bez jakékoliv námahy vytáhl jeho téměř bezvládné tělo a hrubě ho odhodil na studenou podlahu hned vedle. Jimovi se dělaly černé skvrny před očima, bylo mu zle a mdlo. Jeho záda ho ničila. Měl je celé zkrvavené a rozervané od bičování a každý pohyb byl téměř nesnesitelný, proto zůstal klidně ležet na překvapivě příjemně chladném betonu a pokoušel se nezvracet.„Zůstaň v klidu a bude to bolet míň, věř mi,“ prohlásil hlas někde nad ním a potom ho silné ruce převalily na břicho. Jim ucítil antiseptický zápach, a to bylo jediné varování předtím, než spalující bolest pokryla jeho záda. Bolestí se prohnul v bedrech a vyjekl.„Drž,“ ruka ho chytla za krkem a přitlačila mu hlavu k zemi.Druhý muž pokračoval v dezinfekci jeho ran, kterou prováděl nepříliš pečlivě a neopatrně, tudíž sebou Jim tu a tam škubl, což jen způsobilo, že se prsty svírající jeho krk ještě pevněji zatnuly. Poté, co bylo hotovo, mu Cole přiložil ke rtům láhev s vodou a nechal ho do sytosti napít.„Jak to, že mě sám veliký Dr. Zloun nepoctil svou návštěvou?“ zaskřehotal slabým hlasem Jim, zatímco mu Cole sundával provazy obmotané kolem kotníků.Druhý muž se jen ušklíbl a pokračoval v sundávání pout.„Příliš zaneprázdněn pitváním mozku nějakého matematika, že za sebe posílá metrosexuála ve středním věku s falešným opálením a řídnoucími obarvenými vlasy?“ Jim pokračoval.Cole vstal a společně s ním zvedl i Jima na vratké nohy. Toho okamžitě chytla křeč v lýtkách a rozhořely se mu zraněná záda.„Vlastně mi to bude chybět,“ zasmál se doktorův asistent, sledujíce Jima ohnutého v pase, snažící se popadnout dech a masírujíc si své bolavé lýtka a stehna. „Ta tvoje prořízlá pusa.“Druhý muž zvedl hlavu, aby se podíval Coleovi do očí a zcela vážným hlasem prohlásil: „Vsadím se, že bude. Budeš ještě vzpomínat na chvíle, kdy jsem takhle vtipkoval.“Cole držel jeho pohled, „No ty vzpomínat nebudeš. O to se postaráme.“Jim se jen chraptivě zasmál. Cole neváhal a vyvedl ho dveřmi, kulhajícího ho táhl za sebou spoře osvětlenou chodbou, která připomínala nějaký betonový bunkr.„Ale teď vážně, o co vám vlastně jde? Peníze vás nezajímají a nějaké kecy o výzkumu to teda nežeru,“ Jim zíral na záda druhého muže, zatímco kráčeli chodbou a občasně míjeli nějaké kovové dveře. „Ale no tak, přiznej si to - jsi sadista a rád mučíš lidi. Že, agente Smithi?“ Cole mlčel. Jim protočil očima. Zničehonic zabočili do pátých prosklených dveří nalevo – Jim si pokoušel vytvořit mapu místa, kde ho drželi, prozatím neúspěšně – a vešli do menší místnosti, ve které bylo pouze jedno lůžko s popruhy a vedle nějaký podivný přístroj.Elektrošoky.„Čeho si myslíte, že tímhle docílíte? Nikdo se nikdy nedostal a nedostane do mé mysli – co tam vůbec hodláte hledat?“Cole ho chladně přerušil, připoutávaje neodporujícího Jima k lůžku, „Ale ty to pořád nechápeš, Jimmy. My nic nehledáme. My nic nebereme. My naopak dáváme.“Jim zvedl tázavě obočí.„Pochop, že naším cílem není ti úplně vymazat mysl nebo v ní něco hledat, kdepak. Cílem tohoto projektu je ti dát ušlechtilejší smysl života. Je to jako program – nebo spíše vir – který se spustí a ovládne tě, kdykoliv my budeme chtít. Až se odsud dostaneš, nebudeš tušit, že ti kdy někdo naprogramoval mysl. Nebudeš si pamatovat vůbec nic z toho, co se tady událo. Budeš čekat na signál od nás. Budeš naše loutka, Jimmy, bezmyšlenkovitě plnit všechny doktorovy rozkazy. Nechápu, jak někdo s tvým postavením a zdroji ještě neovládl nejvyšší vládní špičky. Mohl bys doslova vládnout světu – stačilo by jenom chtít.“ Cole utáhl poslední popruh kolem Jimova kotníku. „A my chceme.“Jim to už nevydržel a naplno se rozesmál. „Bože, připadám si skutečně jako v nějakém filmu. Až na to, že tentokrát nejsem já ten záporák, ale nevinná oběť. Jak bych měl teď zareagovat,“ Jim vytřeštil oči a falešně zoufalým hlasem začal křičet: „Ne! Prosím! Neberte mi mou svobodnou vůli!“ načež se znova rozesmál.Cole mezitím připravil přístroj a držel kleště s elektrodami v obou rukou, připraven je přiložit druhému muži k hlavě.„Neexistují žádní záporáci – není nic jako zlí a hodní lidé. Neexistuje čisté zlo a dobro. Všichni a všechno je v různém poměru kombinací obou,“ utrousil, stojíc nehnutě nad lůžkem, nejspíš očekávaje nějakou reakci.„To nic nemění na tom, Aristotele, že mě se do hlavy nikdo nedostane. A tahle terapie elektrošoky je naprosto zbytečná a nepovede k ničemu.“Cole se ušklíbl, „To je možné. Ale co mohu říci - ,“ nasadil Jimovi kleště na spánky a podíval se mu do očí.„Jsem sadista a rád mučím lidi.“Jim sebou škubnul a celé jeho tělo se napnulo jako tětiva, jak mu elektrický proud proletěl mozkem. Ústa mu zaplavila horká zpěněná krev. Jeho poslední koherentní myšlenka byla: Ten zmrd mi nedal žádnou gumu na skousnutí a já jsem si prokousl jazyk. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- „Zdravím, Sherlocku Holmesi,“ pozdravila je starší žena v šedém kabátě, stojící před velkou neoznačenou dodávkou, která stála zaparkovaná na příjezdové cestě u domu.John bez váhání vytasil zbraň a namířil ji na ženu stojící za brankou. Ta se nezdála ani trochu překvapena. Stejně tak Sherlock byl úplně v klidu, vypnul vytáčející mobil a svěsil ruku podél těla.„Zdravím,“ prohlásil silným hlasem Sherlock. Druhá žena krátce pohlédla na Johna, na hlaveň jeho pistole a povzdechla si.„Věřím, že se dokážeme vyhnout jakýmkoliv zbytečným nehodám,“ oznámila jim hrubým skřípavým hlasem se silným skotským přízvukem, „pokud budete spolupracovat.“John úkosem pohlédl na svého přítele, ale jeho tvář zůstávala kamenně chladná.„Jsem si jist, že Sky by neublížil ani mouše,“ odvětil sarkasticky Sherlock. Žena se bez humoru zasmála. John zůstával ve svém vojenském postoji, připravený ke střelbě.„Sherlocku?“ zašeptal nervózně John, stále příliš netušíc, o co tady běží.„Jste skutečně dobrý, detektive,“ žena udělala pár kroků směrem k obou mužům a zastavil se těsně za brankou, „bohužel až moc dobrý, pro vaše vlastní dobro.“Sherlock mlčel a mávl levou rukou a naznačil tak Johnovi, aby svěsil zbraň.„Také vím, že jste velmi inteligentní. Takže teď oba nastoupíte do téhle dodávky, co stojí za mnou – pěkně spořádaně a v klidu – a nic se vám nestane.“John se ušklíbl, „A kdo jste vy paninko, abyste nám říkala, co máme dělat? Skyův poskok?“ jeho oči rychle mihly k zaparkované dodávce a zpět na ženu před ním, „Kam nás ta dodávka odveze a proč bychom vás měli poslechnout?“„Nastupte, nebudu to opakovat.“„Pokud si s námi chce doktor Sky promluvit, proč nepřijede osobně?“ zeptal se uštěpačně Sherlock.Starší žena si povzdechla, a odvětila tónem, kterým mluvíte k malému dítěti: „Doktor Sky je zaneprázdněn. Je to doktor – dělá svou práci.“John opět pozvedl pistoli a chystal se říct něco dalšího, když v tom momentě se mu cosi ostrého zabodlo krku. Uspávací šipka – prolítlo mu hlavou, než se bezvládně skácel k zemi.„Johne!“ vykřikl Sherlock a udělal krok směrem k Johnovi, který ležel bez hnutí na zemi.„Nehýbejte se,“ přikázala důrazně starší žena.Sherlock svého přítele chvíli nervózně pozoroval, jestli dýchá. Když si byl jistý, že je nezraněn, opět pozvedl hlavu a přimhouřil oči na ženu před ním. Ta jen ledabyle mávla rukou, naznačujíce mu aby nastoupil do dodávky. Sherlock věděl, že má všude kolem posily, to byla téměř jistota. Nejmoudřejší v téhle chvíli bylo udělat přesně to, co chce. Neochotně tudíž vykročil vpřed – otevřel branku a vyšel na cestu.„Vašemu příteli nic není, trochu se vyspí a pak ho možná bude bolet hlava. Věřím, že u vás nebude nutné použití stejných metod, nemýlím-li se?“ usmála se sladce, jak ji Sherlock míjel na své cestě k autu. Potom nastavila dlaň a chladně nakázala: „Dejte mi svůj mobilní telefon.“Sherlock tak bez okolků učinil. Potom nastoupil do zadní části dodávky, kde na něj čekal pravděpodobně další ze Skyových poskoků a svázal mu ruce. Další dva vyskočili ven a po chvíli přinesli i Johna v bezvědomí. Oba dva svázali a dali jim roubíky. Potom je rychle prohledali – vzali i Johnův mobil, klíčky od domu, peněženky - jeho zbraň nejspíše zabavili už předtím.Bez dalších slov zabouchli dveře a nechali je oba v temnotě dodávky bez jakýchkoliv oken či světla. Sherlock uslyšel, jak řidič nastartoval motor a vůz se dal do pohybu. Snad poprvé v životě doufal, že ho jeho paranoidní bratr opatřil nějakým nenalezeným sledovacím zařízením – ale šance byla malá. Co teď? Sherlock zoufale pohlédl do temnoty, kde tušil, že leží jeho přítel.John byl stále v bezvědomí – je zranitelný, nemůžu nic riskovat. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Jim se ráno – tedy alespoň tušil, že to bylo ráno, nebylo podle čeho to poznat – probral a nemohl si vzpomenout na své jméno.Prostě tam nebylo.Celou dobu, nejspíše několik hodin po tom, co se probudil, se pokoušel vzpomenout na první písmeno. Jak ho volala matka k jídlu, jak na něj otec křičel, když se popral ve škole.Ale nic tam nebylo.A potom se pokoušel vzpomenout na další osoby ze své minulosti – na svého otce, na bratra…na… na toho prvního kluka, co zabil. A přestože si dokázal perfektně vybavit jejich tvář, každý detail, tón hlasu, barvu očí, tvar zubů, styl oblékání… nemohl k žádné z těchto tváří přiřadit jméno.Jima zalil chladný pot a rozbušilo se mu srdce. Chvíli jen tak seděl, opřený o zeď své cely a snažil se pravidelně dýchat a nedát na sobě nic znát. Položil si hlavu do dlaní a promnul si oči – špičky jeho prstů nahmataly po stranách jeho hlavy dvě bolavá, spálená místa. A jeho myslí proletěl flashback.Elektrošoková terapie. Elektrošoky! Každý den – už… bůhví jak dlouho.Jak mohl jen zapomenout?Na nose si nahmatal připevněnou nasogastrickou sondu – jistě, odmítal jíst, tak ho krmili nosní trubicí. Potom si přejel dlaní po tváři. Někdo ho musel nedávno oholit – elektrickým strojkem.Jim – hlavu vztyčenou s kamenným výrazem - se objal kolem hrudi, pod prsty ucítil trčící žebra.Jak dlouho už tady byl? Týden? Dva? Měsíc?Čas jakoby se zastavil. Zasekl.V Jimovi se z ničeho nic probudila zuřivost. Jak se mi někdo opovažuje vrtat v mé hlavě? Brát mi vzpomínky?!Nikdo se nikdy nedostal do jeho Paměťového paláce! Nikdo! Jenom on sám tam má přístup.Jim se nadechl a zrelaxoval – tak, půjde do svého paláce a najde tu ztracenou vzpomínku. Někde tam je – musí tam být. Netrvalo dlouho a Jim se tam celkem snadno přenesl – jeho palác byl jejich starý rodinný domek v Irsku. Prošel vrzavými vchodovými dveřmi a rozhlédl se. Nikde nikdo.Rozhodl se jít do svého pokoje, kde ukládal všechny důležité dokumenty, které nesměl zapomenout. Mnoho z nich muselo být podepsáno i jeho jménem. Zašátral v prvním šanonu a vytáhl nějakou pár měsíců starou smlouvu, kterou podepisoval s někým ze Severní Korei. Tak, dole vpravo byla kolonka s jeho jménem i podpisem. Jmenuju se James. Jimovi se ulevilo. Přesně tak, to bylo jeho jméno. Ale potom se zarazil. Moriarty. To není moje příjmení, problesklo mu hlavou. Znělo cize, rozhodně se takhle nejmenoval. Ne doopravdy. Jak se jmenuju?! Dřív než stačil zapátrat v dalších papírech, se Jim s úlekem probral zpět do reality. Za dveřmi slyšel něčí kroky. Pokoušel se uklidnit své rapidní dýchání a zběsile bijící srdce. Hlava se mu točila, chtělo se mu zvracet. Ale nesměl na sobě nechat nic znát. To bylo nejdůležitější. Nikdo nesmí vědět, že jsem jakkoliv tím co dělají ovlivněn. Do jeho cely vešel široce se usmívající Cole. V ruce měl pouta a elektrický obušek.„Ále, podívejme se, kdo je konečně vzhůru a koherentní. No to jsem rád, že si dnešní terapii užiješ také, a já nebudu zase jediný,“ ušklíbl se a přešel k Jimovi.Jim se zamračil a pokusil něco odseknout, ale v hrdle jako by se mu vzpříčil balvan.Coleovi se škodolibě zablesklo v očích, „Dnes žádná uštěpačná poznámka? Možná, že tě nakonec i převychováme – velkého Moriartyho,“ zavyl smíchy mladší muž a hrubě zvedl Jima za obojek kolem jeho krku na nohy. Po jeho zraněných zádech se rozlila pálivá bolest.Jimovi se sevřel žaludek, ale v realitě se jen samolibě zašklebil a se vší důstojností kráčel dlouhou šedivou chodbou opět vstříc svému mučení.Už se pomalu láme. Jeho mysl se rozpadá. Jmenuji se James…a dál? Sebie, Sherlocku, Johne, Mycrofte! Někdo! Takhle daleko to přece nikdy nemělo zajít. Někdo sem honem rychle přesuňte svoje líný zadky a dostaňte mě ven! A rychle. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Sebastian začínal být hodně nervózní. Jeho agent „Čáp“ v blízkosti Holmese se už třetí týden v kuse neozval a po Jimovi stále ani stopy.Až do včerejška – člověk, který podle popisu vypadal přesně jako nedávno ztracený Jimův řidič, byl vyslechnut a propuštěn.Jediné vodítko, které by ho mohlo zavést k Jimovi, byl právě tento poslední člověk, který s ním prokazatelně mluvil.Peter Simmons.Sebastian uznal, že se ten kluk skrýval chytře – vůbec nebylo snadné ho vypátrat. Už to, že vystupoval pod jiným jménem a přestěhoval se na kraj města, bylo dost podezřelé.Musí v tom mít nějak prsty. Minimálně ví, co se stalo. Ale podle ověřených informací ho Mycroft podrobil výslechu a nic se nedozvěděl.Ne že by Mycroft věděl jak někoho pořádně vyslechnout, ušklíbl se Moran.Sebastian moc dobře věděl jak na to. Poté, co Simmonse vypátral ukrývajícího se v bytě jednoho svého kamaráda, ho skolil a v bezvědomí převezl na místo staré opuštěné továrny, která stála nedaleko a byla určena k demolici. Přivázal ho silnými lany k židli a zavázal mu oči.Sednul si na druhou židli před ním, opřel si lokty o kolena a čekal.Netrvalo dlouho a Peter začal přicházet k sobě. Nejprve jen škubnul prsty a zasténal, načež se s leknutím úplně probudil.„Haló! Je tu někdo? Kde to jsem?“ zeptal se třesoucím se hlasem. Sebastian se mlčky zvedl ze židle, která hlasitě zaskřípala na podlaze, a přešel ke spoutanému muži.Nahnul se a do ucha mu pošeptal: „Já mám otázky, ty máš odpovědi. Ber to jako obchod. Já se tě teď zeptám na pár věcí, a když mi ihned pravdivě odpovíš - nic se ti nestane. Nechám tě jít.“Peter polknul a hbitě přikývl.„Ale pokud tě napadne byť jen zamlčet jakoukoliv drobnost, potom ti slibuju, že dnešní den pohlédneš peklu do tváře.“Sebastian ho hrubě chytil za vlasy a vyvrátil mu hlavu dozadu. Peter vyjekl bolestí.„Rozumíme si?“„Ano- jo- jo, Pane Bože, všechno vám řeknu!“ křičel Simmons. Sebastian ho pustil a opět se v poklidu vrátil ke své židli.„Tak začneme – jmenuješ se Peter Simmons a asi dva měsíce jsi dělal řidiče jistému Jamesi Moriartymu. Je to pravda? Pokývej hlavou, jestli ano.“ Peter pomalu pokývnul hlavou a Seb pokračoval.„Byl jsi poslední, kdo s ním mluvil, než byl unesen. Musíš uznat, Pete, že to je sakra podezřelý. A pak ses prostě vypařil.“ Sebastian nesouhlasně mlasknul jazykem, „Špatný nápad.“„Já-já jsem ho vezl z kanceláře domů, potom vystoupil a šel do domu a pak jsem odjel! To je všechno, přísahám. Nic nevím!“ vykřikl Peter. Sebastian si hlasitě povzdechl, vstal a přešel ke svému autu, kde si nechal rozpálit zapalovač na cigarety. Jedním pohybem ho vytáhl a přešel ke svázanému muži.„Zeptám se tě ještě jednou – jen proto, že jsem v celkem dobré náladě – kam jsi ho odvezl, protože do jeho domu to nebylo.“„Já jsem ho ne-ááááááh!“ Peter ječel bolestí, jak mu Sebastian přiložil rozpálený zapalovač na krk. Ve vzduchu bylo cítit spálené maso. Moran chytil vzlykajícího zkrouceného muže opět za vlasy a znovu mu zašeptal do ucha.„Vzpomínáš na naší dohodu? Protože chlapče - tohle je jenom předehra.“„Já – já jsem ho odvezl do nějaké garáže. Já nevím jak se to tam jmeno-ááááh! Kurva!“ Simmons opět vykřikl, když mu Sebastian přiložil rozpálený kov na jeho odhalený krk. Peterovi už z jeho zavázaných očí tekly slzy po tváři.„Bylo to někde blízko Kentish Town, předal jsem ho tam nějakým chlápkům,“ vzlykal mladší muž.Sebastian se zamračil, „Komu jsi ho předal?“„Nějakýmu chlápkovi. Neznal jsem jméno- měli, měli jsme přezdívky. Byl to takovej vysokej chlap s černýma-ááááh! Do prdele, ÁÁÁU!“ „Já chci jména Pete, fakta.“„Říkal si Azrael. Domluvili jsme se, že když jim ho v bezvědomí dovezu, nezraněného, že mi vyplatí tři sta tisíc liber,“ odpověděl třesoucí se Peter.„Už jsem ti vyprávěl o tom, jak jsem s tátou a strýcem jezdíval na lov? Rád jsem ta zvířata potom kuchal. Vůbec rád řežu nožem, Pete. Dost mi to chybí,“ řekl jemný, klidným hlasem Sebastian.„To je všechno, bože, přísahám! Dali mi nějaký prášek, co jsem mu měl dát, aby usnul,“ Peter se zastavil a párkrát se přerývavě nadechnul, "Dal jsem mu to do kávy, potom usnul a tam jsem jim ho předal. Nic víc nevím!“ vykřikl trochu hystericky.Sebastian pokýval hlavou, přestože to druhý muž nemohl vidět, přešel k autu a vrátil do něj onen zapalovač.„Proč tě před třemi týdny vyslýchal Mycroft Holmes?“Na chvíli se rozlinulo ticho. „Žádného Holmese neznám.“Moran se nahlas zasmál. Tvrdohlavý slabochy mám rád! Potom vytáhl z kapsy nůž a bez varování probodnul Peterovi dlaň. Nůž se zaklínil ve dřevě a zůstal tam zaseknutý, zpod jeho dlaně líně vytékala tmavá, rudá krev. Trvalo několik sekund, ne-li minut než druhý muž přestal křičet a nadávat a byl schopen mluvit.„Špehoval jsem pro něj, chtěl informace-“ Pete zasténal, „Chtěl vědět o Moriartym. Ale, ale nic jsem mu neřekl.“„Takže trojitý agent! Kdo by to byl do tebe řekl, že?“Mladší muž naprázdno polknul. Jeho sinavá kůže mu napovídala, že jde pomalu do šoku, Sebastian si musel pospíšit.„Přesně mi popiš, jak vypadal ten Azrael. Předpokládám, že to byl on, kdo tě kontaktoval.“Peter přikývl, „Vysoký, bledý, hubený muž, tmavé vlasy a oči, slušně oblečený, vysoké lícní kosti, měl-měl mateřské znaménko pod levým okem.“„Proč jsi neopustil zemi? S tolika penězi jsi mohl letět kamkoliv.“Peter zatnul zuby, „Ty peníze byly falešný! Falšovaný bankovky! Zab ho, až ho najdeš, zmrda!“Sebastian se ušklíbl, “Některé obchody prostě nevycházejí, ale hádám, že to jsou rizika podnikání.“Potom bez dalšího otálení vytáhl pistoli a střelil Petera do hlavy, nasedl do auta a jel do jedné z velkých garáží v Kentish Town. Měl dost dobré tušení, která to byla. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Doktor Sky zrovna stál na křižovatce, když mu zavolal jeho asistent.„Doktore Sky, subjekt 46. je již připraven na implantaci,“ ozval se klidný hlas z telefonu.Sky se usmál, „Předpokládám, že jste mu pouštěli podprahové zprávy, zatímco spal?“„Jak jste si přál. Jeho mysl je už téměř kompletně otevřena.“„Výborně. Předpokládám, že si toho zatím není vědom?“„Nezdá se mi,“ odpověděl mladší muž.„Dorazím hned, jak to bude možné,“ doktor se na moment odmlčel, „Dnes k vám dorazí další dva projekty. Umístěte je do cel a nic nepodnikejte, dokud nedorazím, je to jasné?“„Samozřejmě.“„Cítím, Cole, že toto bude další úspěch!“ ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- „Sakra, Sherlocku, zvedni ten telefon!“ mumlal naštvaně Mycroft, nervózně přecházející po své chabě osvětlené šedivé kanceláři. Před malou chvílí mu jednou zazvonil telefon a poté umlkl – nepřijatý hovor od jeho bratra.To bylo více než podezřelé.A co bylo ještě podivnější? Poslední čtvrthodinu se mu Mycroft pokoušel zavolat zpět, ale pokaždé spadnul do hlasové schránky. Jeho mobil byl vypnutý. Čip na vyhledávání polohy, který v něm byl ukrytý, se nepodařilo aktivovat. Nejspíš byl nenávratně poškozen.Starší Holmes si zachovával chladnou hlavu. Možná, že to nic není, třeba ten mobil jenom ztratil, třeba se mu ho podařilo nějak rozbít…no spíše kompletně slisovat.A stejně tak se to úplně náhodou stalo i Johnovi. Jaká náhoda! Ale náhody neexistují.Proto se rozhodl před malou chvílí kontaktovat svojí jednotku ve Skotsku poblíž Inverness a nařídil jim zásahovou akci v domě paní Hartnettové. Na místě by měla být během několika málo minut. Ale mezitím se Mycroft pokoušel se svým bratrem jakkoliv spojit. Sherlocku, prosím!Opět hlasová schránka.„Už jsme na místě, čekám rozkazy,“ ozvalo se náhle ze sluchátka v Mycroftově druhém uchu.„Prohledejte dům, zahradu, poté chci prohlédnout perimetr do deseti kilometrů od parcely,“ rázně odvětil Holmes a po momentě odmlčení se ještě dodal: „Potom chci, abyste tam poslal vyšetřovací tým a zajistil veškeré důkazy a paní Hartnettovou si vyslechnu osobně. Dopravte ji co nejdříve sem.“„Ano pane.“Mycroft přerušil spojení a hluboce si povzdechl. Někde vzadu v mysli se mu tvořilo a rostlo klubíčko pochybností, strachu a nejistoty. Pokoušel si ho nevšímat, ale kdykoliv svou pozornost obrátil na nějakou jinou činnost, to klubíčko se nabalovalo a zvětšovalo.Sherlockovi se něco stalo. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Sherlock se rozhlédl kolem sebe a opět v duchu zaklel. Jak jen mohl přehlédnout všechny vodítka, jak jen mohl být tak nedbalý, tak ukvapený – měl o svých silných pochybnostech ohledně jejich nového patologa promluvit už na začátku. Z toho člověka vycházela podivná aura, celé jeho chování bylo tak trochu hrané, trochu mimo.Možná by pak neskončil v nějaké cele hluboko v podzemí ve Skotsku. A jestli ho jeho oslabené smysly nemátly, musejí se nyní nacházet někde na ostrově. Kde? To neměl absolutně žádné tušení.John ležel na zemi vedle něj, ještě stále v bezvědomí. Jemu navíc při přepravě sem zavázali oči a dali tlumící sluchátka na uši, aby nic neslyšel.Neměl ponětí, co s nimi Sky plánoval udělat, ale věděl, že to nebude nic příjemného.Upřel zrak na ostrou stropní žárovku a poslouchal. Tu a tam se za dveřmi na chodbě ozývaly kroky. Podle typu chůze usuzoval, že tam pravidelně obchází minimálně dva různí strážní.Jeho pohled padl na elektronický zámek u dveří jejich klece/cely. Nebyla šance, jak ten přístroj přelstít – alespoň dokud neměl prst toho parchanta, co je sem zavřel.John zasténal a Sherlock byl v mžiku oka u jeho boku.„Kde to – co se – co se stalo…Sherocku!“ zamumlal zmateně, okoušejíc se zvednout ze země. Sherlock ho opatrně ale pevně chytil za rameno a pomohl mu do sedu.„Pšt. To je dobrý, Johne. Jenom si se trochu prospal,“ usmál se chabě Sherlock.„Kde to jsme…jak prospal…co-“„Zmeškal jsi jízdu autem, plavbu lodí, velice zábavné a poučné poznámky našeho doprovodu-“John se zmateně rozhlédl a potom opět zasténal a složil hlavu do dlaní, křečovitě si svírajíc vlasy.„Ten parchant!“ ulevil si.Sherlock si odfrknul a posadil se vedle svého kamaráda. John opět pozvedl zrak a pomalu si prohlížel celou místnost. Zdálo se, jakoby jedna polovina sloužila k nějakým laboratorním, či experimentálním účelům a ta druhá – ve které se momentálně nacházeli – měla být jakási cela, či klec, očividně míněna pro člověka a ne zvíře a dál už si to John ani nechtěl domýšlet.Polil ho studený pot.„Jsi v pořádku?“ zeptal se ho tiše mladší Holmes.„Hlava mi třeští a bolí mě koleno, ale jinak mi nic není. Netušíš, kde bychom mohli být?“Sherlock zavřel oči a soustředil se.„Nejspíš jsme jeli na severovýchod, k pobřeží – venku jsem slyšel racky. Potom mi dali pásku přes oči a sluchátka. Pak jsme dlouho pluli na nějaké lodi. Vstoupili jsme do budovy a jeli výtahem dolů…hodně pater. Musíme být hluboko v podzemí. Předpokládám, že se tu nachází celý komplex různých místností s vybavením a laboratořemi. Tady asi provádí ty své nechutné experimenty.“Naproti jejich cele se rozrazily dveře a vstoupil doktor Sky.„Bravo, Sherlocku Holmesi. Zcela vynikající dedukce,“ prohlásil jízlivě, z jeho hlasu kapal sarkasmus.Jako ocásek ho za ním následoval jeho asistent Cole. Sherlock se postavil a přistoupil blíž k mřížím, které ho oddělovaly od jeho věznitele.„Jaký to krásný pohled. Dlouho jsem čekal na moment, kdy tě uvidím tady,“ doktor se samolibým úšklebkem rozhodil ruce a dodal: „Vítej v mé skromné laboratoři!“Sherlock se zamračil, ale mlčel. John se postavil vedle něj, ruce zaťaté v pěst.Doktor Sky se z plna hrdla zasmál.„Co se stalo? Slavnému Sherlocku Holmesovi došla slova?“Sherlock se také zasmál a jakoby nenuceně se začal procházet po malém prostoru jejich cely.„S poskoky se nebavím,“ oznámil suše po chvíli ticha. Sky vypadal na moment zaražený a stejně tak lokaj po jeho boku.„S poskoky? Chlapče, myslím, že asi nerozumíš závažnosti situace, ale nemusíš se s tím trápit, to většina nově příchozích-“ než stačil doříct větu, Sherlock ho přerušil.„Přiveďte ho – budu mluvit jenom s ním. A sám.“Sky si vyměnil rychlý a zmatený pohled s Colem a potom přešel blíže k cele a zahleděl se hluboce do Sherlockových očí. Jakoby se pokoušel v nich něco vypátrat. John se trochu nepříjemně ošil, když zahlédl jak se tento muž v bílém plášti, jako obří můra přiblížil až těsně k mřížím.„Ach ano…ano! Uvidíš ho, už brzy. Ale nejdřív bych si chtěl promluvit jenom s tebou. A tvým malým kamarádem, samozřejmě.“Sherlock přimhouřil oči. „Chci s ním mluvit teď. Přiveďte ho.“Cole se ušklíbl. „Neslyšel jsi doktora? Dočkáš se.“„Moriarty, jestli mě slyšíš, pojď sem a promluvme si z očí do očí!“ zvolal hlasitě Sherlock do ticha bílé místnosti, jeho pohled ulpívajíc na jediné kameře v rohu, namířené přímo na něj a Johna.Doktor se trochu slabě pousmál, pokývl Coleovi a ten beze slova vyrazil těžkými dveřmi ven na chodbu a zmizel v zákoutí spletitého podzemního bunkru.„Tušil jsem, že v těch vraždách máte prsty,“ zasyčel s potlačeným vztekem John.„Tušil, netušil – kdo je teď na nesprávné straně mříží?“ zeptal se posměšně starší muž a opět přešel doprostřed místnosti, někam mezi laboratorní vybavení a celou. Zdálo se, jakoby něco zvažoval.Sherlock přemýšlel. Jeho myslí se proháněl kolotoč myšlenek – Moriarty je skutečně naživu. Celé toto je nějaký jeho další důmyslně propracovaný plán za účelem ho vylákat až sem, do Skotska aby si s ním mohl následně pohrát jako kočka s myší. Jaký byl ale smysl všech těch vražd? Najal si Moriarty tohoto „doktora“ jako někoho, kdo bude na objednávku mučit a vraždit lidi vrcholných pozic a i z podsvětí, aby Moriartymu vyčistil cestu k novým zločineckým úspěchům? Stojí za tím něco víc? Nějaký skutečný zvrhlý výzkum – nechutná spolupráce dvou psychopatů-Jeho myšlenky přetrhnul zvuk otevírajících se dveří. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Mycroft Holmes zadumaně seděl ve své poněkud temné kanceláři a pročítal si hlášení z nějaké zahraniční mise. Levou lehce roztřesenou rukou pomalu ke rtům zvedl šálek s čajem a zhluboka se napil. Potom ho zase odložil na stůl a povzdechl si. Opatrně zvedl tu stejnou ruku před sebe a sledoval, jak se mu chvějí prsty. Už to je skoro pět hodin a po Sherlockovi a Johnovi zatím ani jediná stopa.Jeho telefon začal zběsile vyzvánět. Holmes si div nepřevrátil celý stůl, jak se po tom malém lesklém zařízení vrhl, jen aby zažil zklamání. Na displeji se zobrazovalo číslo jednoho z jeho utajených agentů. Ne číslo jeho nezvěstného bratra.„Holmes. Jaké pro mě máte zprávy?“„Jedná se o jednoho z našich bývalých agentů, pane – Peter Simmons – před půl hodinou jsme obdrželi hlášení, že ho nalezli mrtvého v podzemní garáži na okraji města. Střelná rána do hlavy. Tělo nese znaky mučení,“ vylíčil vážným hlasem agent na druhém konci.Tohle začínalo být zamotanější a zamotanější. „Takže se jedná o další oběť Londýnského Přízraku?“„To si nemyslím,“ agent se na moment odmlčel, „byl připoután k židli, když ho nalezli, rány se zdají být čerstvé. Musel je utržit těsně před smrtí. Spíš to vidím na výslech s následnou popravou.“Mycroft se zamračil. Takže někdo z Moriartových lidí.„Chci kompletní zprávu do zítřka na stole, se všemi detaily, je to jasné? Odvezte tělo do márnice u sv. Bartoloměje - zařídím, aby ho ihned ohledala pověřená osoba,“ odvětil rázně Holmes a nečekaje na odpověď zavěsil.Jestli se zjistí, že má Moriarty cokoliv společného se zmizením jeho bratra, nikdy by si to neodpustil. Zahnal myšlenky na Sherlocka zpět do kouta a vytočil číslo do márnice.„Nemocnice sv. Bartoloměje, oddělení patologie, doktorka Hooperová u-“ ozvala se Molly z druhého konce, ale nestačila se ani pořádně představit a Mycroft ji ostře přerušil.„Přivezou Vám do márnice tělo mladého muže se střelnou ránou v oblasti hlavy. Chci, abyste ho ohledala Vy. Pokud bude doktor Sky-“Nyní bylo na řadě, aby Molly přerušila Holmese. „Doktor Sky tu dnes není.“Mycroft se zarazil. „Cože? A kde je?“„Dnes ráno nepřišel do práce. Myslela jsem, že bude mít jenom zpoždění, ostatně jako každý den-“„Ohledejte to tělo a pošlete mi pitevní zprávu a to co nejrychleji.“Starší muž zavěsil a odhodil mobil zpět na stůl.Zde se nabízel jediný závěr – Moriarty spolupracuje se Skyem a společně teď někde drží Sherlocka a Johna. Nebo zakopávají jejich těla. Ne, ticho! Okřikl Mycroft svůj mozek. Jsou naživu a já je najdu. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Jim už dnes nečekal další kolo terapie, nebo co že to vlastně tady podstupuje. Proto ho nepříjemně překvapilo, když viděl tento den už podruhé procházet dveřmi Colea s jeho ošklivým úšklebkem na příliš hubené kostnaté tváři. Sám se slabě zašklebil nad myšlenkou dalšího mučení. Raději by se trochu vyspal.„Chyběl jsem ti?“ usmál se kysele Jim a trochu si poposedl a nevědomky se trochu v přítomnosti druhého muže narovnal a opřel zády o zeď.„Ty?“ rozesmál se Cole, „ty mi chybíš dnem i nocí, Jimmy.“Potom se pomalu přesunul až k místu na druhé straně místnosti, kde seděl Jim. Se zlomyslným pohledem v očích ho hrubě za jednu paži vytáhl na nohy, zkroutil mu obě ruce za záda a svázal plastovými pouty. Mladší muž cítil, jak se mu pevné umělohmotné pásky zarývají do kůže a omezují průtok krve, což jenom vyústilo v to, že ho začaly nepříjemně brnět prsty.„A očividně nejsem jediný, komu jsi chyběl,“ pošeptal mu Cole tiše do ucha, zatímco ho vyváděl dveřmi na chodbu.A člověk by si myslel, že tomu doktůrkovi bude stačit jedna lekce. Zakřenil se vnitřně Jim.Oba mlčky procházeli dlouhou šedivou chodbou, osvětlenou pásem ostrých zářivek a míjeli jedny masivní dveře za druhými, až se před jedněmi zastavili. Sedmé na levé straně, abychom byli přesní.Cole oskenoval svou dlaň a v mžiku se dveře automaticky otevřely.A Jimovy oči se setkaly se Sherlockovými. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Čas jakoby se na moment zastavil. Sherlock nemohl uvěřit svým očím, přestože tušil, přestože měl podezření od samého začátku, až teprve nyní před ním stál důkaz z masa a kostí.Moriarty byl naživu.„Sherly, jaké to příjemné překvapení!“ zazubil se překvapeně Jim, zatímco ho Cole vedl dál do místnosti. Oba muži ze sebe nespustili oči, ale až v momentě, kdy na známého zločineckého génia padla zář stropních svítidel, uviděl Sherlock v jakém je stavu.Na tváři měl minimálně několik dní staré strniště, byl pohublý – musel ztratit alespoň 10-15 kilo, měl na sobě od krve špinavé šedé tričko s černými tepláky, šílenství se v jeho očích, pod nimiž se mu tkvěly tmavé kruhy z nedostatku spánku, lesklo poněkud ostřeji než dříve. Vlasy měl mastné a splihlé, na spáncích měl vypálená drobná holá místa. Ruce a krk měl pokrytý starými i čerstvými modřinami.„Ty-“ vrčel John, „ty máš být mrtvý!“ se sotva potlačeným vztekem gestikuloval napřaženým ukazováčkem.„Ehm, promiň?“ ušklíbl se Jim, stále nespouštěje oči z detektiva, který se zatím zdál oněmělý a beze slov.Sherlock byl v rozpacích – jednalo se jen o další psychologickou hru ze strany Moriartyho, nebo byl skutečně jedním ze Skyových vězňů, stejně jako on a John? Nemohl si být vůbec jistý, čemu má věřit.Sky vypadal, že se baví – stál u stěny místnosti se založenými pažemi a usmíval se.„Věděl jsem, že za tím stojíš,“ zašeptal s těžko skrývaným úžasem v hlase Sherlock, „Vždycky jsi to nakonec ty.“Jim se jenom arogantně ušklíbl. „Taky tě rád vidím.“V tom se do toho vložil Sky. „Moc rád sleduji dojemné telenovely, ale myslím, že to prozatím stačilo.“ Zagestikuloval líně jednou rukou svému asistentovi a ten jen pokývl hlavou a přesunul se i s Jimem ke stěně naproti cele, kde zmáčkl drobné šedé tlačítko a dosud bílá neprůhledná stěna se náhle zprůzračnila. Sherlockovi v ten moment došlo, že se nejednalo o stěnu, ale bílé sklo, které se nyní stalo průzračným. A za ním byla nějaká menší komora až po jakousi mříž poblíž stropu plná čisté vody. Připomínalo to trochu nějaké veliké nástěnné akvárium.„Přiznávám, že mě mnozí mohou považovat se psychopata, mnozí za génia, ale duší,“ zašklebil se doktor Sky, blaženě zavírajíc oči, „duší jsem vědec, pánové.“„To sotva,“ utrousil pološeptem Jim a sotva to stačil doříct, Cole ho praštil tak silně, že si zubem rozřízl spodní ret, až krev začala pomalu kapat na čistě bílou podlahu. Jim se poté jen hořce zasmál.Sherlock bojoval s tím, aby neprotočil oči. Co je tohle za divadlo?„No. Myslím, že to nebudeme dále zdržovat. Cole,“ pokynul opět doktor svému asistentovi a ten beze slov vyvedl Jima ven z místnosti. Rozhostilo se napjaté ticho.Sherlock s Johnem nervózně sledovali, jak se starší muž zamyšleně pomalu přibližoval k mřížím jejich cely, až stál těsně před ní.„Předtím, než se rozhodnu tebe i Johna zahrnout do svého programu, musím zjistit, jak moc jste náchylní k manipulaci,“ prohlásil doktor sebejistě.Sherlock se zamračil. „Nechápu, o co vám jde, Sky.“John se přidal. „Uvědomte si, že už nás hledají. Nebude trvat dlouho, a-“„A co?“ vyprskl doktor. „Vrazí sem zásahová jednotka a osvobodí vás? Jen sněte – Moriarty si taky myslel, že ho brzy najdou. Věřím, že si to asi pořád myslí.“Sky se potutelně usmál.„Pravda je taková, detektive, že vás nenajdou. Ne dokud já nebudu chtít, abyste byli nalezeni.“John naprázdno polknul, zatímco Sherlock se ani nehnul, nespouštěje oči ze svého věznitele.„Dost řečí, přejděme k tomu, proč jsme tu,“ oznámil nadšeně doktor.„Prosím,“ zamumlal netrpělivě John.„Je to vcelku jednoduché – otestuji si vaši poslušnost a jisté citové a sentimentální vazby. Možná se vám tato série pokusů bude zdát trochu, no, zvláštní ale jsem přesvědčen, že výsledky těchto výzkumů v budoucnu poslouží mým dalším plánům. A přiznám se, že si budu užívat tu podívanou.“Doktor přešel místnost a posadil se na jednu z židlí po levé straně. Ze stolu před ním vzal do ruky tablet a zapnul ho. Chvíli na něm něco mlčky nastavoval a potom opět vzhlédl a setkal se s napjatými pohledy svých vězňů.„Vaším úkolem, detektive, je praštit vašeho přítele Johna tak, aby upadl do bezvědomí. Máte přesně tři rány.“„A proč bych to měl udělat?“ zeptal se Sherlock. „Nevidím sebemenší důvod.“„Ach jistě – důvod,“ mlasknul jazykem Sky. „Protože pokud to neuděláte, tak on-“ v tu chvíli ukázal na prosklené akvárium, do kterého ten moment něco s velkým šplouchnutím spadlo – nějaká osoba. V záplavě bublin nebylo možné rozeznat, o koho se jednalo, ale v další vteřině to bylo Sherlockovi jasné.Byl to Moriarty. Se stále svázanýma rukama, škubajíc sebou pomalu klesal ke dnu.„ – zemře.“ Dokončil větu Doktor Sky a s novým zábleskem v modrých očích sledoval Jima pokoušejícího se vyhrabat se zpět k hladině.„O co vám jde?! Co je tohle za trik?!“ zařval Sherlock, cloumajíc pevnými kovovými mřížemi. Pokoušel se nedívat na děj odehrávající se za skleněnou stěnou, ale bylo těžké si Jima nevšímat.Bylo očividné, že mu dochází kyslík a brzy se začne topit.„Dochází mu čas, detektive. Být Vámi tak si pospíším,“ odpověděl poklidně Sky, zároveň sledujíc něco na obrazovce svého tabletu.Ten den již podruhé, čas jakoby plul pomaleji. Sherlock nemohl odtrhnout oči od Jima, svíjejícího se na dně akvária – podařilo se mu dostat své svázané ruce před sebe, odrazit se ode dna, ale k hladině nebylo možné se probojovat – byla krytá mříží. Nebylo pro něj cesty ven.„Jste šílenec!“ vykřikl detektiv s posledním zalomcováním mříží. Potom pohlédl na svého dlouholetého přítele, který ho sledoval nevěřícně s vyděšeným pohledem. Je to další HRA! Křičela jeho mysl.„To neuděláte. Je to jenom divadlo. On neumře. Nemůžete zabít svého šéfa,“ prohlásil pevným hlasem Sherlock.Sky se z plna hrdla zasmál. „Šéfa? Haha. Myslel jsem, že jste lepší, detektive.“„Je to jenom další hra,“ trval si mladší Holmes na svém. Sky mlčel.Ale jaký byl smysl této hry? Čeho chce Moriarty, nebo Sky dosáhnout? Jim naproti němu začínal boj o život. Bublinky mu vycházely nosem stále častěji a jeho pohyby začínaly být trhavé a s nádechem paniky. Jeho oči se na moment potkaly se Sherlockovými. Čas se rychle krátil.Sherlock nervózně polknul, prohrábl si potem promočené vlasy a opět pohlédl na Johna stojícího vedle něj, očima ho prosíc o svolení.„Sherlocku, to snad nemyslíš vážně,“ zašeptal třesoucím se hlasem John. „Přece bys mě… kvůli němu?!“John se rozzuřil. „Bude lepší, když umře – nechme ho umřít!“Jim začal zběsile bušit na stěnu akvária. Sky se tiše zasmál.„Já nemůžu,“ zašeptal zlomeně Sherlock a napřáhl se. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Mycroft rozhořčením rozlil horkou kávu po celém stole, V mžiku hrnek opět zvedl a naštvaně vstal od stolu a začal přecházet po své kanceláři, oči těkajíc všude okolo „Unesen?!“ vykřikl do telefonu.„Vypadá to tak, pane. Nasadili jsme pátrací psy a vrtulník, ale jak se zdá, stopy končí u přístavu. Nebude trvat dlouho a budeme mít záznamy ze všech bezpečnostních kamer z okolí a potom-“„Kdy? Kým?“ prskal starší Holmes, přestože odpověď na tuto otázku v hloubi duše už nějakou dobu znal.„Nejsme si jisti, vše by zatím byla pouze spekulace. Ovšem jsem přesvědčen, že Dr. Harnettová bude mít nějaké povzbuzující zprávy. Ihned jsem ji za vámi poslal,“ odpověděl agent monotónně.Holmes si promnul bradu, oči upřené na černou kapalinu líně se roztahujíc po jeho lakovaném povrchu stolu a rytmicky kapající z jeho okraje na zem.„Dobře. Seberte vzorky a vyslechněte jakékoliv svědky, kohokoliv, kdo mohl něco vidět.“Mycroft zavěsil a odhodil telefon do koženého křesla.Měl jsem ho zabít, když jsem měl tu možnost. Povzdechl si a složil obličej do dlaní. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° Měsíc byl v úplňku.Sebastian seděl za volantem svého Lexusu, cigareta mu visela u koutku pusy, zatímco dým se líně valil ven z nosních dírek. Hleděl na tu zářivou kouli na obloze a mysl měl naprosto prázdnou.Byl v koncích.Jima nebylo možné nalézt. Každá stopa vedla jen do další slepé uličky. Jeho pátrací instinkt ho zklamal. Poprvé v životě.Po Jimovi jako by se slehla zem. Jediný vlas po něm nezbyl.Jeho vzpomínky ho nevědomky zanesly zpět k tomu osudnému dni, kdy viděl svého šéfa naposledy. Už tehdy měl tušení – tušení, které kdyby poslechnul, mohl by tu James ještě být.Mohl by ještě žít.Sebastian pevně zavřel oči, nechtěl vidět jeho sebevědomý obličej s drobným úšklebkem pravého koutku úst, jaký obvykle míval, když se něco zadařilo. Jak se mu nepatrně zvýraznily vrásky smíchu kolem očí, když se usmál, jak se –Moran vztekle zabušil pěstmi do volantu. DOST! Vztekle si vytrhl nedokouřenou cigaretu z úst, vyhodil ji oknem ven a nastartoval auto. ° ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Sherlockovi bzučelo v uších. Nehybně stál uprostřed malé cely a zíral na tělo svého nejlepšího přítele ležící v bezvědomí na zemi.Udělal to. Praštil Johna, aby zachránil Moriartyho.Koutkem oka zahlédl, jak Dr. Sky signalizuje svému poskokovi a ten ihned stisknul nějaké tlačítko a hlasité dunění se spustilo v prostoru nad nimi. Během chvíle byla všechna voda z akvária smrti odčerpána. Jediné co v malé prosklené místnosti zbylo, byl malý promočený a třesoucí se muž, kašlající a dávicí vodu.Pomalý sarkastický potlesk společně smíšený s hlasitým smíchem se rozezněl místností. Hra začíná. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Ulice Londýna nebyly nikdy úplně tiché, a to ani v té nejhlubší noci. Z barů se ozýval smích a křik opilých lidí, společně se mísící s hlasitou hudbou nejrůznějšího druhu. Venku na rozích ulic a před dveřmi podniků postávali kuřáci ztrácející se v mlžném oparu cigaretového kouře.Avšak čím víc se Sebastian vzdaloval od centra města, tím více zvuky velkoměsta pomalu, ale jistě mizely v temnotě noci. Tu a tam mohl člověk zaslechnout v dáli houkající sirénu od projíždějící sanity, či někde v uličkách mrouskající se kočky.Moran zajel se svým Lexusem ke kraji silnice, vypnul motor a zhasnul světla. Poté vystoupil z auta, zapnul si svou koženou bundu a opřel se o přední dveře.Netrvalo dlouho a přijelo další auto, stříbrný mercedes. Zaparkovalo tiše za Lexusem, načež jeho motor utichnul.Někde v dáli zaštěkal pes.Z druhého auta vystoupil muž v černém dlouhém kabátě. Naštvaně za sebou zabouchnul dveře a vykročil směrem k Moranovi.„Nemusím ti snad říkat, jak stupidní nápad je celá tahle schůzka,“ zavrčel.„Nemusíš, Čápe,“ odpověděl Sebastian.Druhý muž se zastavil před Sebastianem a hlasitě si povzdechl. „Pokud Iceman zjistí, že-“„Nezjistí,“ odseknul Seb. „Víš, že bych nikdy neriskoval kompromitaci tvé pozice, kdyby to šlo jinak!“„Ráno jsem ti chtěl zavolat, až budu vědět víc, ale když už jsme tu…“ řekl tiše Čáp. „Podle všeho byl Icemanův mladší bratr unesen a obecně se všichni shodují na tom, že za tím stojí Straka.“Sebastian byl zaskočen, „To není možné.“Druhý muž jen pokrčil rameny. „Je to tak.“„Takže se pohřešuje?“Čáp přikývl. „On i ten jeho doktorskej kamarád.“Sebastian si rukou promnul ústa. Muž v kabátě se tiše zasmál.„Vzhledem k tomu, že o tom očividně slyšíš poprvé, bych řekl, že si Straka vyrazil zahrát další hru a nechal tě opět v úplné tmě ohledně toho, kam jede a co plánuje udělat. No tak, jako by to nikdy předtím neudělal.“Ale Seb si byl jistý, že tentokrát se nejedná o žádnou hru, alespoň ne hru v Jimově režii. To, že se ovšem aktuálně pohřešuje i jejich šéf, si ale raději prozatím ponechá pro sebe.„Znáš někoho jménem Azrael?“ zeptal se po chvilce přemýšlení.Čáp jen zavrtěl hlavou a nervózně se ohlédl přes rameno. „Už bych měl jít. Iceman plánuje na dnešek ráno nějaký výslech. Zavolám ti hned, jak budu mít nové informace. Opatruj se, Tygře.“Sebastian sledoval, jak jeho dlouholetý přítel a momentálně nejlepší tajný agent nastoupil do auta a bez jakéhokoliv dalšího slova odjel.Nezbývalo nic jiného, než trpělivě čekat. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Mycroft si pozorně prohlížel ženu ve středním věku sedící naproti němu u studeného kovového stolu, přinýtovaného k podlaze. Tmavé obarvené vlasy měla sepnuté sponou v neupraveném drdolu. Její držení těla bylo trochu podezřelé: seděla rovně, s rameny dozadu, ruce měla složené lehce jednu přes druhou na ploše stolu a hrdě držela pohled muže sedícího před ní. Její spodní ret lehce poškubával v jakémsi nervovém tiku a jednou nohou rychle rytmicky podupávala, nejspíš, aby se zbavila stresu.Starší Holmes si zamyšleně olízl rty a otevřel složku ležící na stole před ním.„Paní Hartnettová. Nemusíte být nervózní, mám na vás jen pár otázek.“Helen trhavě přikývla.„Co se stalo po té, co k vám včera ráno dorazil můj bratr se svým přítelem? Prosím, snažte se události odvyprávět přesně, jak šly za sebou a pokuste se nevynechat jediný detail.“Žena před ním si hlasitě pročistila krk a pohlédla na stůl, jako by hledala něco, čím by zahnala nepříjemné sucho v krku. Mycroft ji nabídl šálek kávy ještě před začátkem výslechu, ale odmítla ho.„Poté, co jsme domluvili, přijela před můj dům neoznačená šedá dodávka…“ začala paní Hartnetová vyprávět s třesoucím se hlasem.A Holmes s napětím poslouchal a pomalu si dával všechny informace dohromady.Doktor Sky a James Moriarty byli společně za únosem nejen jeho bratra a doktora Watsona, ale také všech těch mocných a vlivných lidí, jejichž zohavená těla v posledních měsících- ne-li letech, nacházeli poházené v Londýně a jeho okolí.Zdá se, že se jeho bratříček přece jenom dostal na stopu Londýnskému přízraku. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Dnešní den byl pro Jima prozatím jeden z nejhorších a zároveň z nejlepších v zajetí toho magora Skye.Krátce poté, co vypustili vodu z nádrže smrti ho někdo – nejspíše ten vychrtlý černovlasý zmrd – odtáhl do cely. Sherlockovy cely, k jeho velké radosti. A Johnovy cely, k jeho už menší radosti.Všiml si, že John ležel na zemi, zatímco Sherlock stál vedle a vypadal poněkud zaraženě. Ale upřímně mu všechno připadalo takové mlhavé.Bože, jak moc se mu chtělo spát. Ale Sherly je tu! Mají si toho tolik co říct.Kdyby jen mohl na moment popadnut dech, kdyby se mu alespoň přestala motat hlava… proč pořád nemůžu popadnout dech?„—arty?“ Jim zaslechl, jak ho nejspíše někdo volá. „Jsi v pořádku?“Chvíle ticha.„Moriarty?“„To není moje jméno,“ zamumlal James otráveně, zakašlal a převalil se na bok, zády k tomu hlasu. Kdy že si to vůbec lehnul na záda? Kdo to s ním vlastně byl v cele? Všechno se zdálo takové nereálné, všechny barvy a tvary, zvuky a hlasy… bezvýznamné, jako ve snu. Jim se nemohl přestat třást.Špička něčí boty ho jemně šťouchla do nohy. Ale na ničem stejně nezáleželo.Cítil, že se mu během jeho boje o život musely otevřít rány na zádech, které momentálně pálily a řezaly a zajisté také krvácely. Strašně to bolelo. Jim cítil, jak mu mezi sípavými nádechy z krku tu a tam vyklouzlo zasténání.„Krvácíš.“Jim se ušklíbnul a pokusil se kousavě odpovědět. Ale mezi jeho trhavým dýcháním, extrémní bolestí a neskutečnou únavou mu nezbývalo síly. Pomalu zavřel oči a soustředil se jenom na své dýchání.„Hej!“ někdo ho lehce poplácal po tváři. Jim pootevřel oči, ale vše bylo stále rozmazané. Vážně před ním klečel samotný Sherlock Holmes?Čas a prostor nějak podivně skákal.„Snad konečně chcípne a budu mít klid!“ To byl jiný hlas, Johnův, přicházejíc z druhé strany klece.Někdo mu přitisknul dva prsty ke krku.„Má rychlý a nepravidelný tep.“ Prohlásil znepokojeně Sherlock. Byl to skutečně Sherlock?„Skvělá zpráva!“ odfrknul si ten druhý, zřetelně naštvaný hlas.„Johne…jsi doktor…“ začal Sherlock, ale byl ihned přerušen podrážděným hlasem svého přítele: „Sherlocku, to na mě nezkoušej. On je vrah a kriminálník a rozhodně mu nijak pomáhat nebudu!“Jim v tomto momentě a s trpkým úsměvem na rtech ztratil vědomí. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * „Alespoň mi poraď, jak mám zastavit to krvácení,“ vyhrknul Sherlock naštvaně.John se zhluboka nadechl a v hlavě napočítal do deseti, aby se trochu uklidnil a nelitoval později svých slov. Probodl krátce svého přítele pohledem, který mu vzápětí sklouzl na muže sípajícího na podlaze jejich malé cely.„Johne, prosím. Já…já musím zjistit, kdo za tímhle vším stojí, a jsem si jistý, že on má odpovědi. Mohl by nás odtud dostat!“ řekl s nádechem počínajícího zoufalství v hlase detektiv.John si opět povzdechl a lehce si ohmatal podlitinu, která se mu pomalu vybarvovala na čelisti.„Promiň, promiň, moc mě mrzí, že jsem tě uhodil,“ omlouval se už poněkolikáté Sherlock. Potom se otočil k Moriartymu, uchopil jeho mokré, krví slepené tričko a bez okolků ho nadzvedl, aby si lépe prohlédnul jeho krvácející rány.James sebou škubnul a bolestně vyjekl. S dokořán otevřenýma očima plnýma paniky se ohnal po komkoli, kdo mu způsoboval ještě větší bolest. Avšak jeho zaťatá pěst minula cíl.„Sherlocku! Teď jsi mu ztrhal strupy a bude krvácet ještě víc!“ křikl John.Moriarty se začal nekontrolovatelně třást v agonické bolesti a děsivě zbělal.„Jak jsem to měl vědět, když mi s tím neporadíš!“„Ježíši Kriste, no dobře!“Doktor Watson se pár kroky přemístil na druhou stranu cely k jeho novému pacientovi. Se znechucením ve tváři mu přitiskl prsty ke krku a změřil tep. Potom si prohlédnul rány na zádech a popáleniny na spáncích.„Jde do šoku. Nemám tady nic, co by mu mohlo pomoct. Potřebuje nejlépe do nemocnice, jestli chtějí, aby přežil,“ prohlásil suše Sherlockův přítel a potom s náznakem agrese poplácal zraněného muže po tváři.„Vstávej! Žádný spaní. Kdo ti to udělal? Sky? Udělal sis to sám ty zatracenej parchante?“„Johne…“ zašeptal Sherlock.„Koukni na mě! Jestli někoho teď nezavoláš, aby tě ošetřil, tak umřeš, je ti to jasný?“ zavrčel Watson a zatřásl Jamesovou hlavou, kterou držel pevně za bradu.James se jen hořce zasmál a poté zašklebil bolestí. Měl polootevřené oči a nezdálo se, že by vnímal co se děje. Jen se bezděčně třásl a při každém rychlém nádechu se z jeho plic ozýval hlasitý, mokrý chrapot.„Johne!“ vykřikl hlasitě mladší Holmes. John se s leknutím otočil na svého přítele.Sherlock stál a držel v ruce krabičku první pomoci.„Tohle jsem našel v rohu místnosti. Je tam malý výklenek, nejspíše místo odkud nám z druhé strany podávají věci do cely.“John se hbitě zvedl na nohy, trochu zasténal bolestí, která mu nečekaně vystřelila do kolene.„Dej to sem, kvůli tobě mu pomůžu. Ale jenom proto, že mě o to žádáš, Sherlocku. Být to na mě, tak už nedýchá,“ odseknul naštvaně John a vytrhl krabičku z Sherlokových rukou.Sherlock se zvědavě porozhlédl po jejich cele, jakoby ji viděl poprvé.„Dobře tedy, hrajeme,“ zamumlal si pro sebe. ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * ° * Sebastian seděl se sklenkou whisky v ruce, když mu zazvonil telefon. Neochotně ho vzal do ruky a unaveně pohlédl na displej. Skryté číslo. Jediným pohybem hovor přijal, pomalu si přiložil mobil k uchu a čekal.„Tygře?“Seb si trochu odechnul a kopnul do sebe zbytek alkoholu ve sklence před ním. „Čápe. Máš pro mě novinky?“„Nemám moc času, takže stručně: Poslední stopy vedou k přístavu v Inverness ve Skotsku. Nikdo o nich neslyšel už nejméně 2 dny. Iceman si je jistý, že je za tím Straka.“Moran si poposedl ve svém starém omšelém křesle a pozorně naslouchal, prsty bezmyšlenkovitě zatínal do studeného skla v ruce.„A teď se navíc zdá, že je v tom zamotaný i ten nový patolog, doktor Sky.“„Kdo?“ otázal se zmateně Seb.„Pracoval na patologii v Saint Bart’s. Iceman si myslí, že spolupracuje se Strakou, a že se nejspíš taky jedná o Londýnský přízrak,“ odpověděl naléhavě hlas v telefonu.James neměl ponětí, kdo byl Londýnský přízrak, a rozhodně s ním nespolupracoval, tím si byl Sebastian naprosto jistý.„To by vysvětlovalo i to, že ho nikdo nemůže od včerejšího rána najít,“ pokračoval tajný agent. „Podle všeho je někam odvezl lodí. Nejspíš na jeden z ostrovů.“„Díky, Čápe,“ zamumlal sniper a ukončil hovor. Jeho alkoholem zamlžený pohled zůstal netečně připoutaný k černému displeji jeho mobilu, ve kterém se zrcadlily ztrhané rysy jeho tváře.Celý se to stávalo zamotanější a zamotanější. Co když se Jim přece jenom rozhodl zahrát si s Sherlockem další hru, a nikomu se o tom prostě nezmínil? Rozhodně to tak na první pohled vypadalo a navíc bylo obecně známé, že jeho šéf má horkou hlavu, a někdy jedná zkratkovitě - nekonzultuje své plány a na místě vymýšlí nové, často šílené. Jenže co všichni ti podivní lidé, kteří se před Jimovým zmizením motali kolem jeho bytu? Co ten nalezený šedivý vlas? A kdo byl Azrael?!Ne. Jim byl unesen.Bylo na čase zaletět do Skotska, dokud zůstávala stopa stále horká.
10213739	Regarding a Blessing	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Kirigaya Kazuto \| Kirito, Yuuki Asuna \| Asuna", "Fandom": "Sword Art Online", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by FlashfireFreak", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-10T00:00:00", "words": "645", "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 }	Beta: None [everyone seems busy]Original Release Date: 3/10/17Fanfiction.net: Flashfire FreakArchive of Our Own: FlashfireFreakDisclaimer: I do not own anything in the canon Sword Art Online universe or any other canon universe. Comes after the movie, Sword Art Online Cardinal Scale, so if you didn’t manage to see it (it was amazing) in theaters, you might want to hold off until it is streamable online or able to be purchased on a disc, although that is up to you.. Quite possibly AU.Regarding a Blessing“Remember Kirito, this afternoon you promised to meet my mother” Asuna reminds gently.“I’ll be there, don’t worry. But thinking about it, should I get my dress pants and a dress shirt on? I’d just like to make a good first impression on your mother” answers Kirito nervously. Smiling widely, Asuna remarks, “Oh, I wouldn’t be worried about that. I think she’ll approve of you.”“I hope so. But even if she doesn’t, I still plan on marrying you” states Kirito firmly. Looking at Kirito’s determined face over video chat, Asuna laughs gently before answering, “Just don’t forget that no matter what happens with my mother, we’re still having dinner with her tonight, no excuses from you.”“I haven’t forgotten. I’ll see you in a bit. Bye” states Kirito, ending the video call. A quick shower and some time later, Kirito hops onto his bike and rides to Asuna’s house and is let inside the gate to stow the bike. Removing his helmet, Kirito groans as he realizes his neatly combed hair has been thrown into disarray and fervently begins to straighten it out before a familiar voice rings out, “Kirito!” and moments later his lovely girlfriend turned fiancée wraps her arms around his neck, giving him a quick peck on the lips before turning around gracefully and saying, “Mother, this is Kazuto Kirigaya, also known as Kirito, and my fiancé.”“Come in, come in. I am Kyouko Yuuki, Asuna’s mother. We can talk while dinner is finished being prepared” welcomes Kyouko with a hint of a smile. Sitting down on opposing couches, Kirito on one side and both Yuuki’s on the other, Kirito clasps his hands together nervously before Kyouko begins, “I have heard many things about you, and I must say that I am impressed. Based on my daughter having a ring on her finger, I suppose your intent is to marry her one day?” Nodding his head, Kirito answers, “That is my intent, with or without your approval.”“My my, you seem very dedicated to such matters. I do approve and give you my blessing” says Kyouko with a genuine smile.“If that’s what you say then I’ll—huh?! Oh, well, I wasn’t expecting you to agree so readily” answers Kirito, flushing a little.“With everything I’ve heard about you, you have taken very good care of my daughter, and I have no doubts that you will continue to do so. However, overnight star watching will require more notice, if you don’t mind” remarks Kyouko with a wink. With a bewildered look on his face, Kirito looks between the two Yuuki women, both of which are smiling and chortling at his clear state of bamboozlement."How about we go to dinner and enjoy ourselves" suggests Kyouko, standing up from the couch.Author note: Thanks for reading! I know this is a short chapter/story, but I’m not certain if I’ll be adding more to it or not later on down the line. It was just something that I wanted to see happen. I’ve got many things in real life to handle so my time writing fanfiction is quite limited. Shout out to DarkerThanYin on Fanfiction.net for helping me find the name of Asuna’s mother. Only the two listed sites above may host my fanfics, and under which accounts of mine.
10233293	Abyss	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Min Yoongi \| Suga, Park Jimin (BTS), Jeon Jungkook, Kim Taehyung \| V, Original Female Character(s)", "Fandom": "방탄소년단 \| Bangtan Boys \| BTS", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by dreameh", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "3,982", "Additional Tags": "How Yoongi and Jimin met, theme park, rollercoaster, the original female characters aren't important, theyre just there tbh, The theme park is a real place, ive been on the exact rollercoaster over 200 times, Fluff, Platonic Yoonmin and Taekook", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Min Yoongi \| Suga/Park Jimin, Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung \| V", "Series": "Flower Era", "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 watched two of the three people in front of me leave without the third person noticing and frowned, not only were they stupid for leaving whilst on the last flight of stairs before the rollercoaster, but they were also stupid for leaving their friend behind, the one who looked like he was about to shit his pants. It was rather dark and in the five minutes I had been waiting in line behind the three boys, I had heard the black haired boy complaining several times, asking to turn back and not go on the rollercoaster. The rollercoaster was named the Abyss and its black theme really added to the fear factor of the ride. I had no problem with it at all, it was one of my favourite rides and I'd only been to the theme park once before. I scrunched up my nose, fought my inner asshole that was telling me not to tell him and tapped the black haired boy in front of me. "Your friends have left you." I told him in rather sloppy English as he turned around and his eyes widened in shock. As soon as I saw him, I could feel my jaw dropping, he was so fucking attractive. "Where did Jungkook and Tae go? Why? I'm already scared enough about going on this..." He whined in Korean and my eyes widened slightly, the corners of my lips tugging up in relief. I expected him to walk back down the stairs, so I was shocked when he stayed in his spot. "Are you staying?" I asked, baffled that he was there still. "There's no point leaving when I'm this close." He explained, "I'm Park Jimin." He introduced himself with a nervous smile. "Min Yoongi. What are you doing in Australia?" I asked him. He froze for a few seconds, thinking. "Holiday. What about you?" He responded and I grinned lazily, tipping my head back and looking up at the high roof. "I just finished a few months of foreign transfer schooling and I'm leaving soon. I thought I'd come here today because I don't think I'll get back here after I leave." I responded wistfully, looking back at him. He pouted slightly "We leave soon as well, what day are you leaving?" I had to think about what the date is "Uhhh... It's the 8th today... My birthday is tomorrow... I leave in two days, on the 10th." I recalled and nodded in confirmation. His eyes widened in shock and he stepped up a step as the queue moved up. "We leave on the same day! Are you doing anything for your birthday?" I shook my head. "We should totally spend the day at the beach and go out for dinner." He decided without asking for my say. "What do you think?" He asked, looking at me with wide, excited eyes. I shrugged, scrunching up my face in an exaggerated manner as I did so, making Jimin giggle a little bit. "I'm fine with that. How about after this, I move my belongings to be with yours and your friends' stuff so that we can share numbers and organise for tomorrow." He nodded in agreement and moved forward a bit. We were on the final stretch before we would be on the ride. Jimin swallowed nervously, seeing how close we were now. "What do you like to do?" I asked and he smiled, seemingly grateful for the small talk. "I love to dance and I also love flowers. I'm okay at singing, so I do that occasionally. What about you?" He answered, pushing my question straight back onto me. "I love producing music, playing the piano and rapping. I'm hoping I'll be able to get a job with an entertainment company producing or rapping someday." I responded. His eyes widened "Amazing!" I smiled shyly as he began to shower me in compliments "I'd love to hear you play the piano, you probably make beautiful music. Can I hear some of your rapping? I'm sure you'll make it big in the music industry." I sighed as I made up my mind about rapping for Jimin. "Okay, I'll rap for you. When do you want me to do it? Now?" He nodded. I took a deep breath before I began rapping a song I had produced myself not too long ago. "Top one, I don’t use that obvious pattern My rap isn’t as easy as you think but for me it’s a cinch. I can rap the whole day and not get tired my tongue is filled with arrogance and goes on You can’t estimate what I can do because I have different rooted genes I’m going to be the 3rd generation of hip-hop, the next-generation rapper, my flow is the most beautiful If San E was a rap genius then I’m a rap prodigy Just like Supreme Team’s fans my sense is off the hook Wack wack or fake fake, they all get crushed by me Within half a year of rapping I rose up Imma king, everyone saw me in Daegu When I spit out rap, everyone said I became a monster rapper That’s right, I’m Daegu’s godfather earns jealousy by gods You guys obey me? Please that’s a bit too early so fresh boy G’s in the buildin’, try to follow me uh~~" (If you're not sure what song this is, it's Swagger, one of Yoongi's pre-debut songs) Jimin's jaw dropped and I'm pretty sure I heard a strangled gasp from some people behind me in the line. "Yoongi-hyung — I hope you don't mind me calling you hyung — that's amazing. You're amazing... At rapping, I mean." I smiled at him then noticed the line had moved up again. "Jiminnie. The line." In the dim light his face looked slightly red but I passed it off as him being slightly sunburnt. "A nickname already?" He asked almost teasingly and I smiled sweetly at him. "Well, if you're calling me hyung already, I'll need something to call you, so Jiminnie works. It's a cute nickname, cute like you." There was another strangled gasp and a burst of laughter. "You know I can't understand what they're saying." I heard the person who I presumed was laughing whine in English. "You didn't make an effort to learn the language bitch. If you love Kpop so much you'd think you'd at least try to learn the language to understand what they're saying." Another person, the one I presumed was the one who gasped both times retorted. I groaned inwardly, that would mean they heard me being awkward. "Oh shit we're next." Jimin cursed and I stared at him in slight shock, not expecting that he'd swear at all. The hilarity of the situation hit me suddenly. I had managed to meet and befriend someone else from Korea in five minutes in the line for a rollercoaster. We reached the gate for the ride and Jimin gulped. I started laughing at this, trying to keep it quiet but failing. The staff member standing on the other side of the gate grinned upon seeing me, but his eyes really lit up seeing some people behind us. "Any loose items?" He asked and I shook my head "Does my mental stability count?" One of the people behind us asked, the one who knows Korean. "Calm down Emma's friend." The two burst out laughing at this, as if it was an inside joke. "Come on through." I pushed Jimin forward and turned to see who would be on with us and saw a freckled girl with a white shirt and dark looking hair (unsure of the colour due to lighting, remember) watching as another girl with dark hair and a bright red shirt hugged the staff member, arms crossed over her chest, smiling in amusement. "You again? I swear you're stalking me." Another staff member on the other side of the platform asked and the watching girl turned her head, looking at this member with even more amusement. "What if you're stalking me?" She responded, tone not changing once. "Do you want to go inside or outside seat?" I asked Jimin softly, seeing how he was watching the exchanges in shock. "Uh... Outside please, hyung." I nodded and watched as the cart (is that what you'd call it??) arrived. The worker on the other side of the platform pressed a button which opened the gate for us to board the ride. Jimin went through to the far seat and sat down. I sat down next to him and pulled the safety bar down. Seeing me do it, Jimin did the same. The white shirted girl sat down next to me, pulling down her bar as she did so and the other girl sat in the seat next to her. "So what expression are we making this time?" The girl next to me asked. "Bored or tired." The other responded and the first girl scoffed. "Easy." She stated "May the best sleepy face win." She added and I heard the chair move as she turned to face the first girl. "What do we win?" She asked and the first girl shrugged "I don't know. Bragging rights about having the best fake-asleep face." The other girl laughed. "What about churros?" She suggested and the first girl turned her head to stare at her. "Bitch does it look like I'm made of money. Neither of us have the money to buy churros." "It's going be fine. You're going to be okay." The voice of the staff member on our side of the ride asked, coming up behind Jimin. The black haired boy yelped in fear and the worker started laughing. "Don't be an asshole." The girl next to me reprimanded him. "Don't stare into my eyes. It's rude." He retorted and she managed to move so she was facing him to stare directly at him. "Oi!" He snapped and both girls laughed. "All set? Off you go!" ( https://youtu.be/rCfoMj4gdZE here's a ride pov, I'd suggest you watch it before you read this next bit so you understand what happens) and we went into the darkness. I could practically feel the fear that Jimin was radiating. "Jiminnie it'll be okay. I'm right beside you." The girl next to me squeaked and I remembered that she could understand what I was saying. We began turning the corner, right before the first drop down in almost pitch darkness. 'Welcome to the Abyss.' A recorded deep, almost demonic sounding voice spoke. There was a scream that was also recorded that played as we dropped and one person from behind us screamed slightly. The camera flashed and the girls next to me laughed. "We have screamers." One stated offhandedly as we started spiralling towards the sunlight. I could hear Jimin breathing heavily, especially as we reached the ascent to the highest point of the rollercoaster. We slowly began ascending and I felt the girl from next to me's hand hit mine. "Blah I'm ragdolling it as we go down." She told her friend and I turned to look at her in shock. I could now see that her hair was a natural red colour and she was indeed like a rag doll. Fear struck me as I saw that she wasn't even holding on with one hand, she was completely limp and giggling like a maniac. On the other hand, I looked at Jimin and saw that his eyes were wide. "Why do I regret this?" He asked me and the girl began giggling more. "You won't regret this by the end of it." She told him sincerely in Korean. "The only one you might regret is the Rampage." She added, attempting to point to said ride. Jimin, being on the end could see what she was attempting to point at and yelped as the ride spun at terrifying speeds. Obviously, every time he had walked past it, it was still stationary or he just wasn't paying attention to it. We tipped over the highest point and as we did so, Jimin made a sound much like a dying animal and swore. I laughed as he cursed, he then calmed down and was soon laughing and cheering, as if he was never scared in the first place. "You okay now Jiminnie?" I asked and when I received a cheer in response, I assumed he was good. The ride was soon over and I pouted as I had to get off, getting caught behind the girls who were next to us as the girl on the end hugged the staff member again. "Yoongi-hyung that was awesome!" He shouted and I laughed at his excited smile, his eyes were wide with adrenaline. The two girls eventually moved on, almost running down the stairs as we followed them. "Yoongi-hyung~ I want to go again!" Jimin whined and I rolled my eyes. "No Jiminnie, not yet. We need to put our stuff together otherwise we'll forget and we'll continue going on it. Come on. We'll come back after." I told him firmly and he pouted. After we finished descending, I saw Jimin watch the two girls go back up into the stairwell to queue up again. I grabbed his hand and took him to where the on ride photo appeared and found ours and pointed up at it. I saw that the two girls had not been joking when they said they would look like they were asleep. The girl next to me was smiling slightly and the other girl looked like she was dead due to her straight face. I looked at Jimin and myself and yelped and covered the blooming blush on my face. Jimin looked terrified and he was holding my hand (which I hadn't noticed at all when we were on the ride) and I was looking at him with a soft smile. It looked like we were a couple. I heard a strangled yell from behind me and was almost knocked over when the girls from next to us ran over to look at the picture "Bitch I want my churros. Did you purposely go back up because you don't fucking want to buy me churros?" The dark haired girl asked. The bilingual one rolled her eyes. "Shut the fuck up. I forgot." I tuned out their conversation the best I could and went up to the woman at the stall for the photos and churros. "Can I get the photo from the ride just then on my wristband?" She nodded and asked for my arm. I held the arm out and she scanned the barcode on my wristband, putting the the data of the picture into the barcode. Jimin came up to us and put his arm out as well. "Me too please." He requested quietly and she put it onto his as well. I took Jimin's hand again and when he looked at me in confusion I explained "Just so we don't get separated." It was only partially because of that, it wasn't too busy because it was a day when most children should be at school. The main reason is because Jimin is cute and his hands are soft. Even as we walked away I could hear the two girls still being unnecessarily loud. I led Jimin to a big tree where I had put my bag and towel on one of the benches underneath it. I picked up my bag and towel with one hand and nodded. "Lead the way Jiminnie." I told him and he pulled me towards the area for younger children. I rose an eyebrow but said nothing. I was glad I didn't say anything because he stopped when we were under one of the shades that had been put up. I noticed he'd narrowed his eyes and let go of my hand. I pouted slightly but looked at where his attention was and realised why. Sitting down, looking up at Jimin with innocent grins were the two boys who had left Jimin alone in the queue. One had dark brown, almost black hair and the other had purple hair. "Yah! Jeon Jungkook! Kim Taehyung! I'm going to kill you two!" He shouted at them and I snickered. The two didn't look the least bit phased so Jimin upped his threat. "No more nice hyung you two. I won't buy you food anymore. You're paying for yourself. I'm leaving you two and I'm going to spend the day with Yoongi-hyung. And I'm going to let you find your own way back to the hotel." He added and the two boys' eyes widened. "Hyung no." The dark haired one almost whispered "Hyung motherfucking yes." Jimin responded. "Hyung, you can just put your stuff down here. We'll come back later." He told me. The two looked at me as if they were looking into my soul as I put my belongings down and Jimin held his hand out for me to hold. "As you said, it's a bit busy. Shall we go?" He asked and I smiled softly at him as I held his hand in my own. "Let's go Jiminnie." As we walked away I heard two people calling Jimin's name, probably his friends. "Chimchim don't leave us! You're our only friend!" Jimin barely even looked over his shoulder at the purple haired one who was speaking. "No Taehyung. You both make friends easily so there's no problem for you." Jimin retorted. "We may make friends easily but we can't speak English." I looked at Jimin at the same time he looked at me with a sly smile. "There are two girls who are probably on the Abyss, one of them can speak Korean. Wait by the fast pass entry, which is conveniently located next to the exit, for them to come down from their next time on it. One is wearing a red shirt and the other has a white and galaxy superman singlet." The purple haired boy pouted but walked away from us and to the Abyss. "Those two are my dearest dongsaengs, Kim Taehyung with the purple hair and Jeon Jungkook with the dark hair. They're pains at times but at the end of the day, they're my best friends." I smiled at him and nodded. "Where do you want to go now? Do you want to take the long ass trek uphill to the Kraken where we'll have to wait for like an hour?" I asked and he shrugged. I directed us in the direction of the water slides. "Sure, why not? We can play 20 questions and get to know each other better in that time." We started trekking up the hill and I had barely done 20 steps when I could feel my legs burning and my lungs screaming for air. "My stamina is so shit. I fucking hate this hill." I muttered, mostly to myself. "And those stupid stairs aren't much better." I complained. After two minutes of struggling to get up the hill, I bent over, my arm across my knees as I struggled to regain my breath. "I fucking hate that hill and there's still more left. Jiminnie do you want to go on the Inferno to regain our breath before we walk the rest of the way?" I asked, pointing to the freefall ride. (https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=KZz5e0ckIUo (pov of Inferno from when it was called Freefall)) His eyes widened in slight fear, but he shrugged "It shouldn't hurt me to do this." I nodded and thought that I should hold his hand so he can't escape, but then I looked down at our already interlocked hands and realised that we still hadn't let go. We luckily got in the already short queue as the staff member was letting people in for the next ride. I had to let go of Jimin as I went under the bars and got to the end of the line just before he had finished counting and ushering people on. After seeing Jimin with me, I walked up to the others who were waiting to get on. "As always, loose items in this basket. Once you're in your seat, pull your bars down. The general safety stuff. Enjoy." He sounded unenthusiastic, but was probably exhausted, which would've explained why. He opened the gate and everyone walked in and sat down. The staff member did all necessary checks on the ride and on our bars. Soon enough, it was counting down. '10' "Warning." '9' We never-" '8' "-get sent up-" '7' "-at the right-" '6' "-time." Jimin turned to look at me and his eyes widened and jaw dropped as he saw I wasn't holding onto the bars. '5' "Enjoy." I told him with a cheeky grin. After I said that, we shot up. Jimin swore again as I laughed. After going up fast three times and coming down fast once, the ride was over. Once we were on, Jimin held onto my arm tightly. "What the fuck. Why did we do this?" He whined as we started walking up the last stretch of the hill. When we got to the top of the hill I almost cried in relief for not having to walk up any more hills but groaned as I saw how long the queue for the waterslide was. "Well Jiminnie, we're going to be playing 20 questions for a while." I told the boy who looked up and as he saw the line, he looked at me in disbelief. I walked in and he followed me. Probably an hour later we were finally at the front of the line. We had learnt more about each other and I probably knew more about Jimin than I knew about myself. "Jiminnie, do you want to go backwards? I can if you don't want to." His look of fear was enough of an answer. I rolled my eyes and sat in the inflatable, my back facing the slide. Jimin sat opposite me and I could see that he was slightly afraid of the dark tunnel. "Enjoy!" One of the staff members who were manning the ride told us and pushed us into the dark tunnel. (https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=oJJxg1gK3UM) It was fun and it was going fine until the inflatable rotated, right before the drop. I had the pleasure of watching Jimin's facial features and reaction as the inflatable dropped and he went backwards. "Fucking Jisoo Christ!" He shouted in fear and I lost it laughing. The remainder of the ride, I was laughing and once we reached the end, I pushed Jimin by his legs to tip him out of the inflatable and into the water. I fell backwards into the water and laughed at the look on his face. "Hyung you said you'd go backwards." He whined. I put my hands up in surrender. "I can't control what happens when we're actually on the ride." I told him and he pouted as we went and checked the photos for this one. As soon as I spotted it I used the barcode scanner provided to scan it onto my wristband. It wasn't the clearest image, but you could see I was laughing and Jimin looked tense. Jimin scanned it onto his wristband as well. "I wonder what the time is..." I thought, pulling my hidden watch from a zip up pocket in my shorts. I'd overheard staff saying that people couldn't wear watches on the ride so I hid it. "Only 12? We still have like 6 hours Jiminnie. What do you want to do?" He looked at me and I knew what he wanted to do; go on the ride that brought us together. "Okay then, once, then we have to get lunch." I told him with a smile and we set off back towards the rollercoaster.
10235387	Let Me See	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "David Jacobs, Jack Kelly", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "880", "Additional Tags": "First Kiss, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting", "Relationship": "David Jacobs/Jack Kelly", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies (1992)", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	“So what else do you have to do for your application?” Davey was rocking side to side in the swivel chair in Jack’s room while Jack tried, and failed, to work on his college essays. Jack made a humming sound as he typed out a few more words before answering, “All the tax shit for scholarships and the essay, and then I have to put together my portfolio for the art programs.”“Am I gonna get to see your portfolio?”Jack didn’t even stop typing as he said, “No.”“No?” Davey scoffed. “Jack, I’m your best friend. Why can’t I see your stuff?”“Don’t get butthurt. I don’t show anyone my stuff. It’s embarrassing.” The clacking of the keyboard had stopped by then. Jack let out a deep breath. “It’s nothing against you. Art is just the way I get out all the feelings I don’t let anyone know about. The whole point of it is that I don’t show anyone.”“How are you gonna be a famous artist if you never show anybody your stuff?”“Davey? Drop it, please?”Davey studied his friend, the teasing tone of his comment giving way to concern. Jack’s eyes look almost...pained. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’ll drop it.”*** Sweatshirt...sweatshirt...I know it’s in here, Davey’s eyes scanned the room over and over again. He left his jacket at Jack’s the other day, and he could have sworn he left it on the bed, but with the mess of clothes covering Jack’s room, it could be anywhere. He was looking through the pile of unfolded laundry on the desk when he saw one of Jack’s sketchbooks was open. The entire page was covered in portraits of one person, from every angle and expression. It was Davey.Davey picked up the sketchbook and studied the drawings. Jack was good. Really good. He had captured the nuances of Davey’s face, every wrinkle and sunspot eternalized in paper and charcoal. Davey turned the page and found even more drawings. Sketches of him studying, reading, laughing. Each one done with a level of detail and reverence it made Davey’s chest ache and stomach flutter. “Davey? Are you in there?” Jack called from the down the hall. Davey heard Jack walk into the room and didn’t even bother trying to hide what he was looking at. “Davey? What are y—oh.” Davey’s fingertips ghosted over the paper, tracing the lines of his face. “How many of these are there?”Jack tugged at his hair. “It’s just—you’re always around and it’s so easy for me to draw you because you’re always reading or concentrating on something—”“Jack,” Davey’s tone was feather-light.“Davey, I’m sorry. It doesn’t have to mean anything. I promise.”Davey set the sketchbook down, and took a deep breath before turning to face his friend. Jack was looking at him, begging him to say it was okay, that it didn’t mean anything. But it did mean something, it had to. Davey reached out and took Jack’s hand, slotting their fingers together softly. Jack was looking at the place where their hands met like it was something out of a dream. With his other hand, Davey barely pressed his palm to Jack’s neck, just below his jaw. He felt Jack’s pulse jump against his hand, and Davey knew his breathing was uneven.When Davey looked into Jack’s eyes, he saw equal parts fear and anticipation. It has to mean something. Davey closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Jack’s. Jack sighed against his lips, and Davey pulled him closer, running his hand through Jack’s hair. Oh my God. I’m kissing him, I can't believe I’m kissing my best friend. Jack sucked on Davey’s bottom lip, and Davey whined at the back of his throat. And it feels so good.Davey pulled away from Jack slightly. He rested their foreheads together and let their breaths mingle. “Is this what you meant when you said you drew things you couldn't tell anyone else?”“Yeah,” Jack kissed him again, quickly. “I wasn’t...I didn’t know if you felt—could ever feel—the same way.”“So every time you said you loved me, or held my hand, or leaned against me while we watched a movie…?”“No! Well, yes, I did that because I like you, but I’m still your best friend. I love you as a best friend, and as a crush. It’s like a venn diagram I guess. Some of the feelings are the same, but then there’s the extra stuff, like this.”Jack kissed him again, longer this time. Davey’s whole body was tingling. He understood what Jack meant. He loved Davey so much just as his best friend; it had never occurred to him that he might be in love with him, but now that the option was there, he knew he was. Jack moved his lips to Davey’s jaw, and Davey said, “Jack.” Jack moaned against his throat. “Jack, if I can see your sketches now, does that mean you’ll show me your portfolio?”Jack laughed. “Yes, but right now, I really want to make out with you. I’ve been dreaming about it for three years.”“Ooh, Jack Kelly dreams about me,” Davey teased.“Shut up.”Davey quirked an eyebrow, “Make me.”
10267433	Masked Bloodlust	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont, Lee Seung Gil, Otabek Altin, Yuri Plisetsky, Michele Crispino, Sara Crispino, Jean-Jacques Leroy", "Fandom": "Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "2,012", "Additional Tags": "Organized Crime, Violence, Attempt at Humor, there's knives involved, I don't know what I'm doing", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont/Lee Seung Gil, Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky", "Series": "Suits Soiled With Crimson", "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 }	Yuuri sat cross-legged in his plush office chair as he shuffled through the pile of paperwork in front of him. Next to that stack was Viktor’s back facing towards him, sitting crisscrossed on Yuuri’s desk. The man was wearing a navy blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, a black necktie hanging loosely around his collar. His stresses were tied up in a ponytail, stray strands of silver to cascade down his left eye, locks holding a heavenly glow from the light filtering through the bay window behind them. Viktor was such a visage, even if his back was the only thing in view.The Russian turned around from his position as he heard an exasperated sigh coming from the younger. “Is something the matter, lyubov moya?”A huff of laughter elicited through flared nostrils as Yuuri dropped the pen in his hand to brush the loose strands of hair out of Viktor’s eyes. Viktor leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. The palm rested on Viktor’s cheek, slender fingers lightly touching the evident scar underneath his left eye.The doors leading to Yuuri’s office suddenly flung open with a loud creak - causing the two of them to jolt up in surprise - as Yuri sauntered in with heavy footsteps and a pissed off expression. They watched as the intruder submerged himself into Yuuri’s rather large, plush velvet armchair without even sparing them a single glance upon entering.“Yuri, what brings you here?” Yuuri eventually questioned, one hand moving to intertwine with Viktor's.Yuri finally looked up at the two and seemed to instantly regret doing so, face set in a dark grimace at their display of affection.“I cleaned up that blood bath you left in that warehouse of ours a few days ago,” Yuri grumbled, deciding not to comment on it. “Honestly, do you know how hard it is to get rid of blood once it stains - ?”“Yuri, I didn't ask for your sass - ”“Yeah, yeah," the boy waved off dismissively. “Anyways, it’s about damn time you take a fucking walk or something. You’ve been cooped up in here for days now, I’m concerned for your sanity.”“Awh, Yurio’s concerned,” Viktor cooed, easily dodging the phone that flew straight to his face right after. “If he doesn't get out more, I’ll be the one cleaning every excess corpse he leaves behind out of spite!” Yuri bristled with a stomp of his feet. Viktor only gave the teen a dazzling smile in return. Yuuri simply brushed off what had unfolded before him. “It’s fine, I’m never left on my own accord after all.” The pterodactyl-like screech Yuri made was also ignored. “Yurio does make a point,” Viktor chided in, playing at the ends of his hair, “you deserve a break, love.” Small knocks rippled through the room as Viktor swung his feet back and forth against the desk. With a reluctant sigh, Yuuri moved to stand. He proceeded to stretch out stiff and unused muscles with each one resonating a satisfying crack. Removing his suit jacket and handing it to Viktor, the hen turned to Yuri who gave him a curious look. “I was quite busy so I didn’t get the chance to tell you.” Yuuri’s expression suddenly shifted into a feral smile, brown eyes determined and sharp, in contrast to his light and innocent tone. “A few hours ago, dear Viktor here sniffed out a couple of… whistleblowers. I need you to sort out that little situation for me. Hopefully that’ll make up to all your ‘cleaning duties.’" “Sure, whatever,” Yuri muttered, submerging further into the chair and directed his gaze down at his shoes. He may try to hide it, but Yuuri had already caught a glance of the grin playing at the younger's lips.“Great!” Yuuri cheered, clapping his hands together. “I’ve already informed Otabek, I’m sure he’ll fill you in on the specifics.” And with that, Yuuri left the room on silent hinges with a pep in his step. Viktor chuckled at the younger man’s antics, moving to pursue him in the disguise of the dimly lit halls. That left Yuri alone on his own accord. “Beka,” Yuri called from his spot, unmoving. Otabek appeared in front of him in a matter of seconds, settling into the chair identical to the one Yuri was in. “Shouldn’t we follow their lead?” “Nah, not yet,” Yuri responded laconically, lifting his legs up onto the small table in between them. “Once that false sense of security kicks in, they won’t know what’ll hit them.” Albeit being a little pissed-off, he seemed satisfied with what had transpired. “Devious as ever, I see.” Yuri snorted. __________ “How’s it hanging?” Phichit looked up from his spot next to Seung-Gil, his eyes immediately landing on Yuuri. His demeanor seemed to brighten up at the sight of his friend as he peeled himself off the Korean - who he’d draped his arms over - thrusting himself at Yuuri to pull him into a bone-crushing hug. “Yuuri! Where’ve you been?!” Phichit was practically vibrating as he tugged Yuuri in from his spot at the door. “I’ve been busy,” Yuuri replied with a small smile, letting himself get dragged along. “Hey, Seung-Gil,” Yuuri waved at the petite Korean. Seung-Gil greeted him with a nod before going back to work on bandaging the cuts and bruises littered all over Michele’s right arm. “What happened?” Yuuri questioned, not at all surprised by the Italian's condition, trails of blood exuding from the cuts like miniature waterfalls. That was expected in their line of work. “That Canadian wuss needs to get his men under control,” he hissed as Seung-Gil wiped the wounds clean with alcohol. “Some wanker decided to start a fight with me.” “He started something he couldn’t finish,” Seung-Gil mumbled. Michele’s chest visibly swelled up with self-pride. “It's been the fifth time this month since JJ and his men went all berserk.” Phichit snickered, going down on one knee to imitate the well-known pose of JJ’s. His face set in a mocking smolder, eyes sparkling. “Phichit, please.” Seung-Gil side-eyed Phichit who was currently making a very accurate impression. Michele’s expression seemed to darken, murmuring something about having to leave his sister’s side. Yuuri’s shoulders shook with laughter as he watched them bicker. __________ There were three figures loitering in the dark alleys, speaking lowly amongst themselves. It was an eerily quiet and cramped place, littered with filth and some reminiscences of past brawls resulting in small dried pools of crimson. Yuuri continued to his approach, face set in an indecipherable expression. He was a rose amongst thorns, dressed in a crisp ruby-red button up tucked in rather tight fitting slacks, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal toned arms. A dark waistcoat hugged his torso tightly in all the right places, showing off the beautiful arch of his back. The man had noticed his presence and informed his supposed entourage. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in these parts?” the leader, according to the information Viktor had accumulated, drawled out in a sultry tone. Now that they were up close and personal, Yuuri surveyed him. The brunette was a few inches taller than him with broader shoulders and a stronger built, same goes for the two behind him. He and his men were in no possession of any expensive suits or garments, unlike most who are knee-deep into the mafia would. They were mere thugs, Yuuri concluded. His two underlings surrounded Yuuri, flanking him on both sides as to limit his chances of escaping. Eyes roamed up and down his lithe and sturdy form as if he was a meal, the men inched towards him with gleeful expressions just from the prospect of getting a good fuck. It was an advantage, in Yuuri’s part, when he was to be underestimated. “Mr. Brenton, is it?” Yuuri asked, dismissing the silence surrounding them. “That would be me, yes.” He answered with a curt nod, a pleased smirk greeting his features. “I've been informed that you’ve been interfering with our trades.” Yuuri’s tone was sugar sweet, his head cocked to the side in question. The smug expression from the three promptly dropped at his declaration, replaced with utter surprise and confusion. “Why, it’s quite troubling whenever you were to attack my men, and use those stolen weapons and supplies as if it were meant for your hands.” “What are you - ?” “It’s not wise to play dumb.” Yuuri interrupted him, the quirk of his lips growing by the minute, threatening to bare pearly whites. “One of your precious subordinates was caught trying to smuggle out some supplies meant for an upcoming trade. He was accompanied by a few others, correct?” He watched in amusement as the men surrounding him sported similar expressions closely resembling a deer caught in a headlight. “That would’ve greatly damage our relations, you know?” “What did you do...?” one of the two behind him questioned, voice barely over a whisper. “Of course, I had them disposed of," Yuuri hummed, "too bad that you'll have to follow their example as well." Yuuri charged at Brenton before he could react, his hidden switchblade already in hand. The blade greeted soft skin, swift and languid, impaling the man in the chest. A choked noise spilled from the brunette's lips as the blade continued its journey downwards, stopping at the abdomen and lodging itself deeper into its victim. Blood oozed onto Yuuri’s hand as he gently pushed the man backwards, quickly retrieving his weapon only to throw the blade at the throat of another behind him. Crimson liquid pooled at the ground as the bodies fell to the floor. Yuuri's lips were still set in a blood-curdling grin as he crouched down to the brunette's quivering form, completely ignoring the last of the three who was currently cowering in fear. He took another blade hidden within his waistcoat and dug it into the man’s cheek, successfully dragging out a pained cry. Blood bubbled out of the corner of the man’s lips, his jaw clenching and unclenching as to let out inaudible screams. Yuuri saw it when the man died. The light in his terrified eyes slipped away to only leave pupils unfocused and still, frantic quivers that ran throughout his body quickly - almost abruptly - subsided, his jaw went slack, the heat of his body whisked away by the cold tendrils of death. He ran a blood stained hand through his hair, a low chuckle slipping past parted lips. It's been a while since he had the chance to let loose. His head whirled upward when he heard a low whimper accompanying a loud crack of the bones, only to gaze into glistening cerulean eyes. The last of the three fell down onto the ground with a thump beneath the feet of Viktor, the Russian’s heels grinding into the body's side as he made his way to Yuuri. A loving smile appeared on Yuuri’s lips, quickly replacing the previous one that had contained nothing but bloodlust and menace. “Quite a mess you’ve left here, Yuuri! Didn't I tell you to take a break?” Viktor grinned down at the younger. “You were following me, weren't you?” He accepted the hand that was offered to him. “In a way, yes.” The Russian chuckled as he pulled Yuuri up, still holding onto his hand afterwards. A whistle elicited from Viktor as he looked upon the dead bodies. “What you did back there was really hot, solysnko!” “Vitya…” Yuuri grumbled, flicking the older’s forehead and earning a small whine in return. Viktor’s arms moved to wrap around his waist, pulling him close, not caring for the blood from Yuuri's attire that might've transferred onto his at contact. “So is Yura going to clean this up as well?” he asked as he nuzzled into Yuuri’s soft brown locks. “He’s going to be so mad,” Yuuri sighed against Viktor’s chest, eyes fluttering shut as the older rubbed comforting circles at his lower back. “Indeed he will be,” Viktor chortled, his shoulders shaking with amusement. “So much for making it up to him.”
10209914	Case Outline Adam	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Adam (Only Lovers Left Alive), Eve (Only Lovers Left Alive), Original Character, Ian (Only Lovers Left Alive)", "Fandom": "Only Lovers Left Alive (2013)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Grey_Bard", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-11T00:00:00", "words": "3,625", "Additional Tags": "Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Humor, POV Outsider, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Documentation, Fic with a Bibliography, Academia, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Vampires", "Relationship": "Adam/Eve (Only Lovers Left Alive)", "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 }	Case Outline: “Adam”I am working at a fee for service mental health therapy clinic in Detroit. We offer therapy services from clinical social workers in conjunction with staff psychiatrists and case workers, as well as some outpatient drug treatment programs. Our patient population consists of long-time residents, mostly African-American, as well as some new residents of a variety of backgrounds who have been attracted by the underground art scene and low property prices. Depression, anxiety, PTSD, ADHD and substance use are our most common concerns. Most of our clients are low-income and our services are covered by Medicaid, but some clients are better off or not documented, and choose to pay through insurance or privately. Client Identifying Data Adam is a white British-born male who is married and appears to be in his 30's. He considers himself spiritual but not religious. When asked, he classifies his sexuality as “married to a woman”, but has implied that may he have had sexual encounters or flirtations with men in the past. He has a strong and supportive relationship with his wife, Eve, but their relationship had been in a long distance phase while she lived in Tangiers, Morocco, previous to his recent mental health crisis.He is groomed, but casually dishevelled, which may be partly an aesthetic choice, or may simply be a decline in energy and interest. He dresses in an eccentric mixture of modern t-shirts and jeans and selected items of historical clothing, which makes his dishevelment appear to be a style choice. On closer inspection, however, apathy seems more likely. Adam's depression may have gone unnoticed because of his eccentricity. When interviewed, his affect was restricted and indifferent and he was laconic in response to most questions, although he could be articulate when he chose to speak at any length.Adam's current DSM 5 diagnosis is 296.34: Major Depressive Disorder, severe recurrent episode. I still am attempting to rule out DSM 5 diagnosis 296.89, because Adam's unrevealing description of his behavior while in a non-depressed state could be describing mild hypomania, or perhaps simply higher enthusiasm and energy levels when not depressed. Until further evidence presents itself, however, his diagnosis must be Major Depressive Disorder. Nevertheless, the depth and frequent recurrence of his depression leads me to continue to suspect the possibility of Bipolar II. I have spoken to his psychiatrist on the subject, and he is monitoring Adam's moods and medication accordingly. Presenting Concerns Adam came for therapy because he feels depressed and had recently been experiencing suicidal ideation, and was mid suicide-attempt before he called his wife for help. He had gone as far as acquiring ammunition from a friend for the attempt, and aiming the weapon. His wife reports that despite his love of tinkering and home repair, he has neglected many minor home repair tasks, and his home has slid from cluttered to dirty over the course of his depression. He has missed out on professional opportunities, isolating himself at home, refusing to play his music live, or even promote his recordings in any way.Adam has isolated himself from the community around him, interacting only with his closest friend and unofficial manager, Ian, who has been helping him with basic tasks such as shopping as well as distributing his music, and Eve. As soon as she heard about his suicide attempt, Eve returned from Morocco to care for him. Adam has no living family, because he is a vampire and was born shortly before the English Civil War. This has limited his support system, not only because his family has predeceased him, but also because vampires are a rare subculture, and he cannot go outside during the day. Relevant History Adam was born in 1602 to an English clergyman and musician, and given a musical education alongside his brother. He had a stable family life and was happy to go into the family business - music. However, his family’s fortunes were heavily entangled in the British royal court where he found work as a composer, and there was social unrest against the king.Adam did not experience substance abuse as part of his family environment growing up, but many of the artists and musicians who he knew and cared about over his lifetime struggled with substance abuse, which troubled him. He reports that he has difficulty knowing his family mental health history, because there were no mental health diagnoses or professions at that time as we know them now. Adam does not exhibit any problematic substance use behavior himself, but he has an unhealthy relationship with food - in his case, blood. (He obtains his blood ethically, in a non-violent manner.) When he is particularly depressed he reports that he frequently does not eat, to the point that his wife has expressed serious concerns for his health.Adam has been married to Eve for over two hundred years, and is monogamous with the exception of rare sexual encounters between himself, his wife, and a third party. Sometimes they choose to live apart for a time because Eve wishes to travel more widely than her husband, but they keep in close contact by phone and video chat. At the beginning of Adam’s current depression, Eve was living in Tangiers. He considers her to be the most important person in his life, and his most important source of support. Adam has implied he has had romantic and sexual experiences before his marriage, but declines to share further information, saying it is irrelevant and private.Adam fought in the English Civil War on the Royalist side, during which he died and became a vampire. While he survived, he lost his friends and family, who believed him dead, and witnessed the death and carnage of the battlefield and the divisive social unrest that comes with civil war. He also had to cope with the experience of nearly dying, and adjusting to a secretive way of life that requires one to ingest human blood, all of which was traumatic for him.Adam reports that it had been decades since he had experienced suicidal ideation as intense as that which he experienced during his current bout of depression, but he has had regularly recurring periods of depression throughout his adult life, since before he became a vampire. (Vampirism and depression does not have 1:1 linkage, as neither Eve, nor her sister Ava or their mutual vampire friend Christopher experience major depressive disorder.) Both Adam and his wife Eve were born before the era of modern mental health treatment, and so it was strange to either of them to seek help for him from a therapist. Adam did have one previous attempt at therapy in the past, with a Freudian psychoanalyst in the 1930’s, but he found this unhelpful, and has not sought professional help in the years since. He states that he has had five near or partial suicide attempts in the past four hundred years. Despite the commonly assumed predatory nature of vampires, Adam states that he has never experienced homicidal ideation.Adam admits to a history of exhibiting self-injurious behavior when extremely depressed, in the form of allowing parts of his skin to be burned by the sun for very short periods of time (a serious business for vampires). He also has engaged in self destructive and risk-taking behavior such as or traveling without securing a sufficient food source ahead of time, or failing to secure windows fully against the sun. Relevant Current Information Adam lives in a previously abandoned Victorian-era home in Detroit. Although Adam is an enthusiastic amateur tinker and inventor who has rewired his home to work on renewable energy, he has been recently been neglecting his home. He believed the refrigerator was broken, and did without it, until his wife came to visit and pointed out that it was simply unplugged. Ian noticed that one of his toilets has gone unfixed for months. The house had become quite dirty, and it is possible that if he were left there entirely alone, his home might become an unsafe environment.Adam is a professional musician and has some income coming in from recordings he has published recently under a pseudonym, as well as significant savings from previous employment.Adam’s support system currently consists of his wife Eve, and his friend and manager, Ian. He also has a living vampire sister in-law, Ava, with whom he does not get along, and a longtime vampire friend, Christopher, who lives in Tangiers and he sees only rarely. When Ava is visiting, as she currently is, she is a significant source of stress to Adam. She wastes his blood, stays out all night partying, and exhibits poor judgement, making him feel uncomfortable in his own home. Adam also feels stressed by the fact that a number of music enthusiasts have discovered where he lives, and sometimes come by to gawk at the home of such a mysterious recluse. Assessment of Strengths and Needs Using the Strengths, Needs, Abilities and Preferences template as a starting point, it becomes clear that Adam has a number of valuable resources that could stand him in good stead as he recovers, and contribute to resiliency. He also has a number of very individual needs which need to be taken into account. Adam’s strengths include his curiosity and interest in the world around him, his creativity and resourcefulness, his strong and supportive relationship with his wife and the fact that when he hit his lowest point, he was willing and able to reach out and seek help. His abilities include his ability to form and maintain strong, lasting relationships, his skill as a musician and composer, and his skills as an amateur inventor.Adam’s needs include a need for psychoeducation to help him understand his condition in the context of our modern knowledge about mental health, a need - and desire - for therapy, and of course he needs all of these support and therapy services to be available to him after sunset. He also needs a wider network of emotional support than simply his wife and one friend. Adam’s preferences include a preference for discretion and privacy, a preference toward evidence-based practice and a more scientific and less spiritual language surrounding therapy, and a desire to be kept fully informed and included in his own treatment, respectfully and without patronization. Systems Illustrations Ecomap Adam lives in Detroit, and is a musician, but his relationship with both Detroit and the Detroit musical community is tenuous at best at the moment. He prefers to isolate himself at home and record music alone, going out only for food and necessities. Adam has a strong connection to his friend Ian, and Ian serves as his connection to the outside world. Ian serves as his agent, taking the care of all the details of releasing his music, and provides him with items not easily found in 24-hour stores. Ian also is Adam’s only contact with admirers of his music, because Adam dislikes the very idea of notoriety.Eve is another one of Adam’s deep, intense connections. They have been married for over two hundred years, and not only is she personally a support for him, she also connects him to the larger world of other vampires. Eve is older than Adam, more willing to travel, and it is through her that he knows and keeps in touch with the vampires Christopher and Ava.Finally, Adam’s last deep relationship is with music itself. It has been a steady and powerful influence throughout all the turmoil and changes of his lifetime, since his childhood. Even at the worst of times, Adam can still enjoy and lose himself in music. Cycle of Self-Isolation Adam often doubts his ability to get along with or care about with non-vampire humans because they are so different, referring to them as “zombies”, even, indeed particularly, his own fans. This, then, becomes his rationale for self isolation, as seen in the diagram. He does not know them, and when he is depressed he tends to assume that they must have nothing in common. Therefore, he usually avoids socializing when he is depressed. As a result of this belief, he stays home and isolates himself further in his crumbling house. This, then, is depressing, so it all starts again. However, this belief of Adam’s is directly contradicted by his bond with Ian, and the many human friends he remembers fondly from the course of his vampiric lifespan. Case Formulation/Clinical Impressions Adam is conflicted between his need for human contact and his self-imposed reflexive distance to avoid disappointment and loss similar to those he experienced in the past. Evidence for this can be seen in the way he scornfully dismisses most people he does not know as “zombies”, and sometimes literally hides from them in disgust, in contrast to the way in which he romanticizes the memory of friends who are now dead and cannot disappoint him, Also, his depression-based apathy encourages his isolation, which in turn is depressing to him.Adam's career and financial situation, while not optimal during his hermit phase, allows him to maintain his isolated life during his depressive swings. While his financial well-being is a good thing, the spur of survival is not there to encourage him to leave the home. Alternately, perhaps he would still isolate himself at these times, but simply enter extreme poverty. The age of his home and its need for constant upkeep mean that his standard of living can degrade very quickly during a depressive episode if he is living alone. He is stressed by his isolation, but also by the real differences between our modern era and the quieter world he grew up in. Some useful modern coping strategies – such as seeking mental health treatment, take years, even decades, for him to adopt.Adam is moving back and forth somewhere between the preparation and action stages of change, because while he has sought out a therapist and begun a course of therapy, he dropped out of his first treatment intervention, and still has some ambivalent feelings toward action, even as he begins it. Adam varies in his level of motivation – he appears to sincerely not wish to feel depressed, but he is skeptical of therapy, and it is difficult for him to feel motivation at all when he is extremely depressed. Treatment Plan Goals In Adam's words he wants to “...Stop feeling like a lead weight. Stop wanting to die.” In discussion with Adam, I confirmed that he meant that his ultimate treatment goal is to experience full recovery from his depression, but his most important and immediate short term goal is a remission of suicidal ideation. Success would be measured by achieving at least a 3 point reduction on the Hamilton depression scale. Objectives Adam's original short term objective was to achieve twenty minutes of mindfulness meditation per day, and to leave the house once, for a period of over twenty minutes, per day. This was arrived at through discussion with Adam about mindfulness as a possible intervention, and based upon Adam's admission that not leaving the house was “probably too Gothic to be safe”. Twenty minutes was arrived at as an amount of time short enough to be bearable, but long enough to do something productive. Because Adam chose to discontinue the mindfulness intervention, and took my suggestion of DBT therapy instead, his objectives needed to change as well. Adam's new short term objective is to leave the house once, for a period of over twenty minutes, per day, and participate in an entire course of group DBT therapy for the full six month term. At the end of this time we will reevaluate his score on the Hamilton depression scale, and Adam will decide whether or not he wishes to continue treatment and how. I am continuing to ask about suicidal ideation at each session, and tracking his progress. Arriving at Treatment Plan As a non-mandated, purely voluntary client in an outpatient clinical setting, Adam was able to fully take part in treatment planning without conflicting institutional interests. However, Adam's manner was distant and sardonic for most of the treatment planning discussion, as he was being cautious and not fully emotionally investing in therapy yet. Adam was very intellectually curious about possible treatment options, but skeptical about applying them to himself. I suggested a number of popular evidence-based interventions for major depression and he selected mindfulness almost at random, I felt. Interventions My style of establishing rapport is to be as low-key and conversational as possible, offering tea to clients, acknowledging their distress, and matter of factly offering treatment options. Adam does not drink tea, being a vampire, and said that he felt my offer showed insufficient research. He did respond well to the consumer model of therapy, although he was very skeptical about its possible benefits. Mindfulness-based Cognitive Therapy A cognitive approach seemed appropriate for Adam, because his chief conflicts were largely internal, as opposed to systems or environmental driven, and its scientific-esque concreteness was appealing to him. There is significant evidence to suggest that the intervention Mindfulness-based Cognitive Therapy is often effective in reducing suicidality in people experiencing Major Depression (Barnhofer et al., 2015). However, after three weeks of mindfulness meditation practice, Adam stated that he felt this therapy was counterproductive. He reported that clearing his mind led to a greater number of intrusive thoughts about the depravity of human nature and the plight of the environment. He said that just when he was “really relaxed” it “hit” him. Adam was not receptive to pushing past this barrier, and inquired about other forms of therapy. DBT and Group Therapy I suggested Internet-based Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (ICBT) to Adam, both because it has been found to be effective for Major Depression (Mewton, & Andrews, 2015) and because I felt it would be non-threatening to an isolated man, but he disagreed. To him, therapy on the internet seemed like “wasting time”. With his goal of reducing suicidal ideation, our DBT program seemed like a good fit, as it is a evidence-based intervention for suicidality, particularly since it might also work well if he has Bipolar II (Chesin & Stanley, 2013). Although DBT is often thought of as a treatment for Borderline Personality Disorder, it was actually originally designed as a therapy to target and reduce recurring suicidality of all kinds (Meygoni & Ahadi, 2012). Group therapy is an integral part of DBT treatment, and I felt this would have the benefit of helping to break Adam's isolation by putting him in contact with a group of people suffering similarly. Adam has attended two sessions and seems hopeful. Termination Because Adam is a self-referred voluntary client who is paying out of pocket, there is no hard and fast deadline for termination. However, Adam does not wish to continue treatment indefinitely, nor should he. Adam has agreed to take part in an entire six month course of DBT therapy, both individual and group. He also will continue to take psychiatric medication as directed by his in-house psychiatrist, which will be monitored and adjusted as necessary. At the end of this time, Adam has said that if he is either satisfied with his progress, or chooses to move on to a different treatment provider, we will terminate the therapeutic relationship. If at any time Adam feels his suicidal ideation is worsening or reaching another crisis point, an emergency reevaluation will be necessary,. Concern We talk about reality testing and reframing, but what do you say to someone who wants to be less depressed, but has a rational yet depressing worldview? Adam has had a lot of experience with loss, and he knows he is going to experience more. He’s become embittered by seeing people that he respected treated badly by society when it does not understand them. He has a dark view of human nature which he sincerely believes, and which is grounded in his personal experience.Based on historical trends, his own historical experiences, and ecology, Adam also believes that once mankind stops fighting over oil, society will devolve into a series of terrible wars over water. While eccentric, this belief is based on real - if highly circumstantial - evidence, and he is convinced of it. How do you work around depressing yet rational beliefs without saying “you’re wrong”, or giving up? How do you tease out the cognitions and cognitive distortions that can be challenged successfully in a sensitive and respectful manner? References Barnhofer, T., Crane, C., Brennan, K., Duggan, D. S., Crane, R. S., Eames, C., & ... Williams, J. G. (2015). Mindfulness-based cognitive therapy (MBCT) reduces the association between depressive symptoms and suicidal cognitions in patients with a history of suicidal depression. Journal Of Consulting And Clinical Psychology , 83(6), 1013-1020. doi:10.1037/ccp0000027Chesin, M., & Stanley, B. (2013). Risk assessment and psychosocial interventions for suicidal patients. Bipolar Disorders , 15(5), 584-593. doi:10.1111/bdi.12092Mewton, L., & Andrews, G. (2015). Research report: Cognitive behaviour therapy via the internet for depression: A useful strategy to reduce suicidal ideation. Journal Of Affective Disorders , 17078- 84. doi:10.1016/j.jad.2014.08.038Meygoni, A. M., & Ahadi, H. (2012). Declining the rate of Major Depression: Effectiveness of Dialectical Behavior Therapy. Procedia - Social And Behavioral Sciences , 35(AicE-Bs 2011 Famagusta (Asia Pacific International Conference on Environment-Behaviour Studies, Salamis Bay Conti Resort Hotel, Famagusta, North Cyprus, 7-9 December 2011), 230-236. doi:10.1016/j.sbspro.2012.02.083Michalak, J., Schultze, M., Heidenreich, T., & Schramm, E. (2015). A randomized controlled trial on the efficacy of mindfulness-based cognitive therapy and a group version of behavioral analysis system of psychotherapy for chronically depressed patients. Journal Of Consulting And Clinical Psychology , 83(5), 951-963. doi:10.1037/ccp0000042
10238396	Wino Forever	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Sam Winchester, Chuck Shurley, Dean Winchester, Castiel", "Fandom": "Supernatural", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by MajorEnglishEsquire", "chapters": "3/3", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "16,328", "Additional Tags": "Timestamp, Making Out, Angst, Muteness, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad Sam, Team Free Will, Pining", "Relationship": "Chuck Shurley/Sam Winchester", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride", "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 }	All at the same time, Sam is turning around to wrestle the power cord into his duffle and he's trying to estimate how far he'll get between Kansas City and Winona, Minnesota on what he's got left in the tank and Dean's still rattling off from a coroner's report. "I mean the bite marks look right and this dude is moving fast. He's probably one of those under-the-radar guys who survived on backstock blood supplies and just tasted fresh one day and lost it. I say we slam him before the good stuff gets him running faster-""Can you- can you just hold on, I-" he's, like, twisting and he's got the last of the cord... but one... hand still looking for his other jacket sleeve after pulling the door closed and... the other still on the phone and it hits him-Yes. He'll probably need the keys to the goddamn car he's driving if he wants to, you know, drive it and so he whips around instead and knocks on the door-For Chuck, who was still right there at the entrance.Dean's still talking and. Holy shit. "Shut up!" he barks and it wasn't-quite-at the phone so he presses it to his chest. "Sorry. Not you. Did you see my-"Chuck reaches, snatches, holds his keys up. Drops them in Sam's open hand.There's this.Goddamnit. There's this slight little smile that hadn't been there before. When he was all-business and helping with Sam's tie and it's like.It's like Chuck knows. Like Chuck knows that if he weren't hanging around him, Sam would be like fifty times more lost and disorganized than he has been lately. Like he sees. Like he sees without making Sam say it. Like he knows and like maybe he's letting him ease into it.Like. Like Sam doesn't know what-- like maybe this has a chance of being something. Maybe the next time he's with Chuck he'll grab his hand before he goes and say he's got a bag. He could, you know? He could come with. Just so Sam doesn't have to make the drive to the case alone. So maybe his room won't be so empty at the motel. So maybe the distance he's giving Dean and Cas can fill with something else."And where the FUCK is the lamb's blood??" Dean's voice vibrates against him, through the phone speaker.Chuck doesn't lose that look. "Text me when you get there."Right. Yeah. Please. He'll text. He'll call. He wants to. He kind of.He wonders what the difference would be if he stayed just thirty more minutes. Like, what's the rush?But thirty minutes of what?Thirty minutes like. Maybe. Maybe the amount of time he could have his mouth pressed to Chuck's neck if he stepped forward and thanked him.Right now.Thanked him for being here. For always letting him in when he shows up at his apartment(s) unannounced. For caring. For taking an interest. For the first time he texted back. For not letting him leave without the right tie. For.Keys. And. You know. Things.If he. Stepped forward and.Yeah. Right. Pressed a completely unsolicited kiss to his mouth. That would sure go over well.But Chuck's just. Like. Looking at him. Like maybe it wouldn't be completely unwelcome.Like maybe. This time.Or okay. Maybe there's a something in Minnesota that's drained a dozen people in two days.So maybe next time.But a text when he gets there. "Yeah." Okay. Leaving the doorway now. Going down to the car because he's got everything he needs. Everything he requires and it's time to go. Time for his feet to maybe move. "Bye."Chuck's smile twitches up just a little. Because Sam doesn't turn to leave for another long breath.If he's not completely off? If he's not reading this totally wrong? If he's not hoping too much.Chuck is maybe a little bit into him.He's breathing harder than he should be, slams the car door, shutting himself in and finally brings Dean's chattering back up to his ear."I'm here," he says."Good fucking god, man, what the fuck is so important about that fuzzy little dingbat, anyway? Every time I turn around you disappear to Chuck's house."Sam rolls his eyes and throws his bag to the side and yanks his jacket off instead of finding the other sleeve. Starts the car."So they're not hiding it? The teeth marks or anything?""You weren't even listening to me, that's great," Dean deadpans. "How about you gather your brain cells and just get up here. I'm missing some of the shit in this TRUNK goddamnit," Sam hears something slam. "And, listen, I don't know if you're even paying attention half the time, Sam, but we're still doing a job here and. Look. I'm glad the guy's alive and all that, but how is he fucking useful? What are you even doing that-"He's gonna hang up on him. "Dean, do you just wanna tell me about the case when I get there? I'm kinda driving right now and I can only steer one hulking, rusted wreck at a time, so you're gonna have to navigate your own goddamn problems.""Ha. Real nice. Fine." Dean's the one who hangs up on him.«»He's about to turn the key after getting gas when the phone rings again. Sam's had to stop a couple times, but he made it more than half-way."Are you actually headed here?" Dean asks when he picks up."What? Yeah. Why?""Cas pulled up the GPS on your phone. You disabled it.""What the fuck. Why are you trying to track me?""Just wondering," Dean mutters. "Just wondering man. How far out are you?"Wait a minute. "I said I was coming. I said I was driving. I said I was on my way. I've been up front with EVERYTHING with you recently. You wanna tell me where this is coming from?" he challenges."Aw, gee, well, I donno. Suddenly seems to me like you're crushing on a dude and maybe I'm suspicious because it's you."Sam flexes his jaw and clears his throat. "Here's something you refuse to acknowledge: I have, in the past, on occasion, crushed on people of differing genders. That's not news, Dean, that's just something you've decided not to deal with.""So this is a crush," Dean mocks.Sam won't pretend this is a fucking joke at all. It's the exact opposite. He won't put up with this from his brother. "Actually? It's a fucking relationship. A healthy one. Like people try to have sometimes. And I'm trying to have one. With Chuck Shurley. Yes, it happens. Any other questions?"Dean snorts. "Just get your ass up here. We'll deal wit-""We're not 'dealing' with anything. This is my personal life. This is a thing that's happening whether or not you choose to see it. Yes, Dean. Yes. I like him. I think he likes me. So be happy for me and let me do this or shut the fuck up and deal with the fact that it's happening silently because I didn't ask for your opinion on the matter, got it?"Dean is quiet on the other end. "I was going to say that we'll deal with this case when you get your slow ass up here," he says."Right. Fine. So stop calling and let me drive."Dean hangs up again.«»When he gets to Winona, it's because Dean makes a show of 'catching' him texting Chuck that he doesn't get around to texting more than just the one time.Dean rolls through all the dramatics: disappointment, disbelief, eye-rolling, condescension."Can you fucking believe this?" he says to Cas, tossing Sam's phone back at him.Cas shrugs. "Doesn't exactly come as a surprise to me. But Sam did confide in me that he was interested in spending time with Chuck."Dean rolls his head, cracking his neck. "So you got Cas helping you make time with him?" he turns back to Castiel. "You don't think Chuck's a little fucking creepy? Dude weirds me out.""Alright. You know what? Fuck you," Sam finally closes his laptop, yanks the cord and wraps it up around his wrist to head back next door."You gonna abandon us on the hunt? Gonna go run back down to him? Disappear again?" More gleeful mocking. His fucking smartass face. Like he's talking to a child. Like they’re on the fucking playground and Dean keeps yanking the ball away."NOBODY'S FUCKING DISAPPEARING, DEAN," he rounds on him. "I've told you where I was going every single fucking time!!""So now I'm just supposed to accept that you're screwing the weird fortuneteller dude?! Is that really what this has come to?! I'm just finding it frankly un-goddamn-believable, Sam. It really, seriously makes no sense.""We're not- I haven't-- why would you think that I'm under any obligation to make it make sense to you??" He rubs at his eye and finishes gathering his stuff up. "Dean, I don't give a fuck. Have this little shitfit. I thought we were here to work a case.""I'll gladly work a case around your little-"Cas finally steps in. Directly in front of Dean, in fact. Puts his hands up. "I actually think you're being unreasonable right now. I don't see where this has affected any of the hunts so far."Dean throws his hands up, too and spins, turns to the other bed and flops down. Pulls his cell phone out.Sam goes to work the case in his own room. Leaves both their doors open as he goes.So it took him a little longer to get north than it did them because he was at Chuck's place. That's what this is about. Dean thinks that disrupted the hunt before it even began.Underneath it all, this is Dean being scared. He doesn't want Sam to run off and hide. He doesn't want his brother seeking a life where he doesn't fit in. Which is more fucking absurd under these circumstances than it would be otherwise.Chuck at least knows him. Knows all three of them. He knows where Dean fits in the picture exactly. Knows about these fears and how important Sam is to him.He almost calls Chuck.He shakes his hair out of his eyes.He really wants to call.He wants to be like, can you believe this guy? and he. He just wants someone to talk to. Chuck is becoming his someone and.It's just that he keeps replaying things over and over. And pushing new meaning into them. Chuck's indulgent, barely-there smile. The way he looked at Sam and. Yeah.Sam closes his eyes and puts his phone down by his laptop. He's waiting for search results from the DMV that will seemingly never come. He closes his eyes to the blue glow of the screen and he sees Chuck's hands. Watches them until they disappear under his chin and brush his neck, aligning the tie.God, he wants to call. He wants to call and talk about absolutely anything for thirty sixty eighty a hundred minutes.Then he wants to close the door and lose his patience and after one of Chuck's breathy laughs, he wants to say, I think you're finally here with me. I'm dying to ask you. I'm looking for your phone number in casefile IDs and counting the miles between your apartment and every town I go to and I'm leaving anonymous comments on your articles and I think maybe I should have stepped forward and kissed you. I think I should know by now whether or not you're okay with this. But I think you are. And I wanna come home to you.That sounds way-way overly intense. That's not something he can say.He can't call. It will cause problems with Dean and every delay on the case is another life lost.He can't call. There's no reason to call. No real updates on the case and nothing to really talk about. Though he calls when he has nothing to talk about all the time, anyway.He can't call. He shouldn't be calling. He should have left Chuck alone in the first place.He can't call. He wants to put his hands to Chuck's head and pull him close and turn his face up to kiss him. He can't call. He wants to ask Chuck if he's interested in broken old hunters he knows too much about. He can't call. He wants to follow Chuck around the rooms of his little apartment until he's just expected there. He can't call. He might slip up and call this love when Chuck isn't ready for it.He can't call because he's already said it to himself, out loud, and he thinks about Chuck when he wants someone to touch him and when he's drifting off to sleep and his heart flutters when he hears the text tone and he is in so-so-so much fucking trouble.He should have left this alone. He should have left Chuck to rebuild his life.He's so deep he hasn't even thought, seriously, about disposing of his current phone numbers in... god, it's been two months, now.Sam has built expectation on top of this when he knows he shouldn't have and every time he tells himself he should think about stopping, instead his brain comes back with, but what if, this time, he's the one?More than that: What if Chuck thinks Sam is the one just as much as Sam has come to believe it?So Sam opens his eyes to the computer screen and he knows, in that very moment, that next time he's going to ask.Before he dreams further, before he hopes even more, he's going to ask. And just thinking about whether he's going to ask by kissing him or ask with words or maybe even actions - maybe telling Dean to call Charlie for back-up for once because he wants to stay. Just thinking about the way he wants to do this makes it.Worse.It gives him more hope and it feels fucking wonderful.Now he can't call because he'll ask.Now he can't even text.He stares at his phone and thumbs a fingerprint off the screen and when Cas comes in, he puts it down and goes back to his computer."I didn't mean to interrupt you. There was," Cas shakes his head. "It almost sounded like distress. But. It wasn't.""What?" Sam looks around. "From me?""Yes. Um. Sorry. It was just. Loud," Cas shrugs and turns to go back to the other room. Then pauses.Comes to Sam's side, at the kitchenette table."Dean thinks that you'll stop hunting. If you start seeing someone. And he thinks he's not ready for that. He thinks that-""You know, I'm already to the point that I don't care." Sam nods and looks up at him. "This is too important. I don't care if Dean can't feel comfy-cozy about it. It's happening and-- no. I don't have to shove it in his face. But I think it's happening. I feel it in my guts. And it's. Dean doesn't have to like this. He can ignore it. He's free to do that."Castiel nods. Doesn't dispute it.Cas is Sam's friend. Cas knows more than he's supposed to, too. Kind of like Chuck.---- Which is coming to be a relief. Like how, after the attack, after he's blindsided, when he wakes up and Dean's done all he could and Cas can't heal him any further, the first time Dean slips from the room to take a call from the Deputy, Cas asks, "Would you like me tell Chuck for you?"Sam can't speak and his neck hurts too much to shake his head, so he thinks at him, No."Shouldn't we ask him to come assist you?"Sam's mind reels. Assist him with what? How could he help? What could he do? This is blood-and-guts-and-hunting. He doesn't want to expose Chuck to this. He--Wants him here. So bad.Even then, Cas waits for him to agree. He waits to be told.Because Cas is a really great friend.He plugs in Sam's phone before he leaves the room.Still, Sam doesn't text. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- He knows that Chuck probably didn't want to come up to Minnesota and be this close to the hunt. But it means that Cas doesn't have to hang back and tend to Sam every time he winces. Cas can go with Dean and his brother won't be hunting alone.One minute he's grumpily dozing and then- there's a knock.And Chuck appears. And Sam kinda just wants to slump into him and be held.The next time he saw him, Sam genuinely wanted to say something. He wanted to tug Chuck in that direction with him. See if the water was warm and if Chuck wouldn't mind wading in with him.But it's different now that Sam can't talk. He can't write it down and ask; he doesn't have that kind of courage.It's kinda perfect that Chuck takes him to get something his throat can handle.It's kind of like a date.But. You know. Not. He can't talk, can't engage in what Chuck's telling him. He can smile but he can't even laugh too hard, he's in so much pain.And, honestly, the second attack is a lot more disorienting because the last thing Sam actually remembers after blinking awake is the dark parking lot outside the froyo shop, an awareness creeping up his spine. Dropping his hand to Chuck's back because he felt like the dark was so complete it might consume him. Might steal Chuck away from him.Now Chuck is holding his hand, reaching for him, covered in blood and trying to get Sam not to move or whatever--Chuck saved him. Chuck saved them from a vampire. He endured it alone.And when Sam grasps that, he's grateful, yes, but more than anything?He's thrilled. He's humbled and happy and he couldn't wish for much more other than for Chuck not to have fought a vamp in the first place.The corpse is messy and Chuck is messy and Chuck is falling to pieces, but, to save Sam - to save them both - Chuck did his best and here they are, able to be frazzled and amazed on the side of the road, together.Sam clamps him tight.Holds and sways him until the fear falls away and Chuck's body understands as well as he does that the danger has passed and he's safe.Hugs him until he understands that he did the hard part and now Sam will hold him close. Everybody's okay.Sam's a little bit pissed that he put Chuck in danger. A little more pissed that he can't tell him he's okay and say all the right things.And, on top of being useless during the fight, without his voice, he can't ask. He just can't. He wants to, now, more desperately than before. But if he couldn't so much as consent for himself in this state, he sure as hell can't ask Chuck if it would be okay to hold him all night or.Or kiss him before he falls asleep.He's quiet, passing around the motel room, now. Putting things away and switching off the lights. He tugs the sheets down on the end of the bed so both their feet will be covered when he climbs in. They've shared Chuck's bed before, but Sam doesn't really get in after him. He's bigger and he needs to make sure he doesn't jostle Chuck climbing into the weak, old, springy thing.Sam gets most the lights and then comes to Chuck's side. He expects him to be soundly asleep by now, but he still seems to be drifting.Chuck reaches and lightly touches Sam's neck before he's finally out, the day too long and exhausting. Sam smiles and touches him back and wonders at it.That Chuck should have reached out for him earlier. That he keeps doing that, progressively, in small ways, and here he just reached out without reservation and put a warm hand to his sore skin. It makes him trust it. It makes Sam reach out again and touch him back, thumb at the side of his face a little, gentle and just... smitten. Chasing him off to unconsciousness at last.Sam climbs into their bed (and he likes that - their bed). Maybe Chuck will take him home with him, tomorrow, to heal. Maybe they'll keep sharing this.He probably should have reached over Chuck to turn the lamp off. Any little excuse to settle closer. He probably could have waited, climbed in first and Chuck would have touched him when they were both lying down. Chuck's touch was small but his hand was soothing and Sam wouldn't touch back now unless he was awake. He wants to. But it's not something he has permission to do. (Yet.)He lies down looking at Chuck's back. Steady rise-and-fall. Even breaths.In the quiet, in the dark, Sam practices again. It's completely soundless this time. He wants to feel the words. Wants to say them against Chuck's palm until he picks up on their meaning. I wanna stay. I fell in love with you. I love you. Let me stay here.'Here' being around him, next to him. Within earshot of Chuck - within his influence. He wants permission to come back and not have to leave. He wants to be told he can stay without having the 'moving in' discussion. Because he wanders, still, and he doesn't know how good he'd be at it - never has known. There have been people who made him want to try and a few he did try with. And here he is still floating. Thinking maybe the moving-in is the final attempt at gluing himself into place with somebody - or the final nail in the coffin. The last thing he should really be asking for. The last gasp of a desperate man.It would be so fundamentally different with Chuck. They both know the dynamics here and it wouldn't be 'moving in' unless it meant hooking each other this way and that. Both leaving the same place and coming home to it all the time. Not... well, not all the time. But. It could still mean 'coming home'. Still be 'living with' without abandoning Dean and making him think he has to fight all the ends of the world on his own. He could drag Chuck with sometimes, when it's safe enough. And, for the rest, he could count down the miles and the days and know he's got a place to land.So, in the quiet, he practices that. Will you come with me? Can I come home to you? Eventually the word "you" grates out of his throat low and painful and he winces, breath hitching with the shock of it.Chuck snores lightly.He wants to reach out. He wants Chuck not to be alone anymore. Maybe that's how Chuck works, how he's comfortable, in the alone and in the quiet, but maybe he won't want to stay lonely. Maybe he can come to like Sam around enough to-Anything. Just anything.Sam's been through some head trauma today. The room has had a bit of a tilt to it off and on. He should sleep.The room is chill with the a/c still running low to keep the stale air moving around. He decides Chuck would simply benefit from Sam staying a little closer and sharing heat.The air shouldn't even be on. The night is cold out there, for normal people, at least.Sam pulls the comforter up.He can't stop staring.Finally, he puts two fingers to Chuck's neck and feels his pulse. Backs off as soon as he's measured the resting pace of it. He breathes to it and seeks to match. Tugs the sheets to rest properly on his shoulder.They're gonna be at Chuck's place. He's gonna go with. Sam's gonna get his neck better. The first words out of his battered throat are gonna be, Can I kiss you?«»The anger doesn't come for a while.First it's desperation.Sam texts Chuck and calls, though he has no voice, and he grabs at Cas's elbow begging for help but Cas doesn't know how to help except to try to keep him from hurting himself.Sam paces outside of the diner trying to figure out what to text or if he should give Chuck space or if he was being fucking foolish and he should just never try to contact him again.Ten minutes. They were ten minutes from being gone. Ten minutes from leaving Dean and his big fucking mouth here in Winona and back heading to Chuck's house.He didn't wanna talk about the Becky thing until it came up again and when would it? That's his fault. But did Dean have to fucking-- when he was voiceless and unable to--Try as he might Cas isn't prepared for the way Sam darts away from him and slams Dean into the side of the building when he comes out, jarring his head against brick and making him shout, "Hey!!"He tries to grate out the words until it hurts, searing his throat. You have to get him back here, you fucking dick, you have to explain!!But there's only him trying to shout and Dean actually shouting and Cas agreeing that this is fucked up and prying them off each other.A waitress comes out, sipping her coffee, unimpressed. "Move it to somebody else's parking lot, boys."Sam finally pulls away from them both and spins back, clutching his hair, can't find the words to express how truly fucked he is, regardless of whether he has a voice or not.He's fucking fucked. This all meant nothing. Chuck put his well-being in Sam's hands and trusted him to keep him sober and Sam returned that trust with a sick fucking lie.He's breathing too fast for the good of his throat. It's sawing against his raw insides, and Cas has to haul him over and toss him in the passenger seat. Holds a glowing hand at his neck and Sam can feel the hot light fighting the spell soaked into his flesh. It's still not working much but it's a cool slide of numbness against the solid block of aching.This is hopeless.Sam wants him back so bad. He wants ten- FIVE fucking minutes to write it down. To get him to understand. He just wants Chuck back. He needs to apologize. He needs to tell him the whole entire truth.He grabs Cas's coat and thinks a big, fat thought at him: I need him back. Please get him back.Cas nods. Calls Dean over.Dean wanders to Cas's side, reluctant. And out of arm's reach.Cas passes his cell over. "I have Chuck's number. Call and explain it to him.""Listen," Dean scoffs, "it's probably for the bes-"Cas pushes his phone into Dean's chest. "You did this. You told Sam's story without his permission and you didn't do it to help him, so don't start saying it's for the best. You did it to insult him." Cas tosses a hand at Sam as if to present him. Crumpled in the passenger seat and flexing his jaw in pain and already bruised all to hell, feeling his smoothie rise in his guts and the crushing weight of another disappointment just because he's a lying piece of filth who needs to be reminded that he doesn't actually deserve the love he thought he might have had a shot at.Oh holy fuck. He gives up.Gets his legs in the car and shuts the door and texts Chuck one more time. Irrational and angry still. But the words are true. I am such a fucking sorry sack of shit. Nothing but the truth.It feels worse after the text is sent.He should be most angry with himself. He could have copped to this during any of the hundreds of hours they'd spent talking nonsense.He couldn't even try to go into a relationship with a clean slate. He's lied to everyone he loves. He started the trend with Chuck all over again, without even considering what he was doing.Just thinking about himself. Not about all the baggage he comes with that he'd be saddling on Chuck.He clamps his jaw tight. Berates himself in silence.By the time Dean and Cas are done hissing at each other in the parking lot, he's moved on.To. Well. Resignation.He's never gonna see him again. He's never gonna see Chuck again.He should have said something. Anything. Everything.He could have followed him if he wasn't feeling totally caught out.Could have dropped to his knees at any other point and told Chuck that he knew he'd end up disappointing him but he's desperate to have just one good day on occasion.Desperate to hold somebody and make them proud to be with him. Desperate for simple things and shared beds and someone to listen. Desperate for some change to this never-ending grind.He made Chuck listen. Was greedy for the ways Chuck set things to rights in his mental landscape. He was so tolerant and he gave Sam words that made him feel better. Not feel so dysfunctional and alone.And all he can think of is that he answered that help and Chuck's understanding with omission. A lie. He didn't give what he was getting.Chuck could have had a quiet life with no vampires ever. He came to help Sam because Sam helped him detox. He got scented out and screwed over and lied to.Sam closes his eyes, face pressed against the door.Chuck's not gonna speak to him. He's gonna cut his losses.What really fucking stings is that this hurt Chuck in a similar way - this hurt Chuck because there was something there. Sam hadn't just been imagining it.If Chuck only liked him as a friend - nothing more - he would have laughed at Sam with Dean.It wasn't funny to him. It was hurtful. Sam hurt Chuck.He literally doesn't deserve anyone, ever.«»Sam closes the door when they get back. He must sleep some. He drifts awake at different times of day until someone knocks.He doesn't care to answer, but Cas texts Please answer your door with a pensive little emoji that's totally him, all sad and worried. So he gets up, unlocks everything."I wanted to let you know that Dean got in contact with Chuck."Sam stands stock still and waits."He apologized. He explained everything. Chuck understands. He only wanted to know if you were alright."Oh fuck."He was angry with Dean for doing this while you needed our help. Sam? He's not angry with you. He was sickened by Becky's actions. You're alright," he adds as Sam stumbles backwards to sit. "Chuck understands."That's so much more mercy than he deserves.Fuck.He should just thank Chuck by text and leave him alone and not bug him for like a month and refrain from making a nuisance of himself ever again.Sam can leave him alone at this point and let it go. They can just... separate on good terms.Sam can let him go.He finally reaches to flip his phone back over.There's a text. I heard everything from dean. Sorry I didn't hear you out. Cas said you'll be here tomorrow. He only blinks at it."We can leave whenever you're ready to. Sam. We thought we could bring you down to Chuck's apartment? Like you had planned?"He nods, numb."Did you want to sleep first?"He nods.He knows Cas goes away quietly after touching his shoulder.He doesn't remember locking the door back up.He has a text written in reply. He doesn't send it for a long-long time.He remembers Chuck stumbling out of the booth to get away from him in the diner. Horrified. Humiliated. Lied to.Sam is pretty sure he broke his heart before he even had it in hand.Sam turns the phone back over.He'll go tomorrow. And he'll release Chuck from this. Say his real apologies to his face (in a manner of speaking) and leave him be. They can start over as friends and just speak sometimes and maybe that way he won't break Chuck's heart for good. He was bound to do that someday, anyway. He can leave him in a better place than he found him and have that be good enough.Sam takes the phone back up and sends the text. Thank you. I'm so sorry.He gets hit back automatically and he doesn't check what it says.Dean comes to wake him up in the morning.«»He drinks warm tea on the car ride. Simply rests in the back seat at Castiel's instruction and stares at the world.He avoids his phone. Breathes deep. Seeks peace with this.It wasn't meant to be. Like, who was he kidding in the first place? Chuck never wanted to be a part of this. To restore him to what his life was before the prophecy kicked his ass should be good enough. Sam should have left him behind. They've done it so often, for so many people. Left them alone to live. It's when they get tangled up again that they die. Like Sara. Goddamnit. Like Sara.Sam saw this absolutely unquestioning understanding in Chuck's eyes. Being figured-out beforehand was an easy gift. It was such a luxury. It was too good for the likes of him.No one can know that much about someone and still think them--It doesn't make any sense. The real truth of it has to be that Sam conned Chuck into trusting him.He got married to Chuck's ex. In what fucking universe is that understandable, especially considering who they are? It's fucked up under the most banal of circumstances, but you throw in spells and being saved by fucking Crowley? And it's just--You know, Sam's had his control over his own life taken away so much, he's starting to think that was his true destiny. Maybe he was made to have his decisions taken out of his own hands because he makes crappy fucking decisions.He lets Dean drop him off. Mentally throws a message at Cas that he'll find his own way back.Cas actually gets out of the car and stops him while he shoulders his bags."Sam, he understands. He does."Sam nods.Cas just stares at him, concerned. He must have heard something of the way Sam was berating himself. But Sam has no intention of letting himself off the hook for this. He gets the little-brother treatment enough.Cas lets him be.Later, Sam will excuse himself for the day, part from Chuck with his guts in his throat and a fake little smile on his face. Walk up to find a good car to jack in the grocery store parking lot.Later, he will drive it into Missouri and just hang out for two weeks, until he can finally be understood when he picks up the phone to Dean's increasingly worried calls.Later he will finally look at the text Chuck sent yesterday. None of this is your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for. I know you can't do much but press buttons in response but do u want me to call? :) «»Dean's in the garage tinkering when Sam gets back. He stands and he brushes himself off.Sam parks the clunker-of-the-week and picks up his bags and Dean comes close so he brushes past him."Hey, alright." Dean catches up and gets his elbow.He stops. Flexes his jaw. Turns.Dean doesn't care if he's still pissed. He grabs Sam by the chin, turns him this way and that, checking the damage on his neck. "Looks better," he nods.Sam jerks away and goes into the bunker.He's got groceries to buy and a potential case he wants to check up on. He keeps busy in the first few hours without running into Dean again, or Cas.It's evening before he gets to all the laundry.Sam reaches the bottom of the bag, not sure what could be left until his fingers hit it.He doesn't pull it out. He goes to shut the laundry room door and he comes back to the machine and hauls the bag up.Pulls the scarf out.Sam had grabbed Chuck's hands. Wiped the vamp gore from him and tried to calm him.It didn't work. So Sam pulled him out of the car.Sam held him.There was a time, not at all long ago, when he felt like he could just close a chapter on himself and go for a hunt. Look for a friendly face in a library or a diner. It never worked out like it did for Dean, just burying himself in tits 'n ass until it was all a blur.Sam would hook up with someone and it would be a workout and it would be consuming kisses and he would breathe fresh air in the morning. Start a new chapter. A new volume. A new book within himself.This came. So very fucking close.This came too close for him to let go of that easily.He thinks of new volumes, fresh starts, a changed POV, new words. And he thinks of the seeds Chuck planted within him. Growing the trees that would be the paper and the words he can't bleach off the page.Sam throws the scarf in the washing machine.Because he's being over-dramatic.And this has happened before. And he can let go.Change is more than inevitable in his life. It is necessary on a daily basis.It's just.This was-- Chuck was kind of the change he wanted. He picked his change for once instead of having it thrust upon him. (And he thought he was being chosen, too.)It could have happened and it could have made sense because of how much Chuck knows and how much Sam knows of him and how much they've been willing to share recently.He doesn't feel like a new chapter. He feels like a half-assed grouping of unfinished sentences. He wasn't prepared for this. Chuck-- he wasn't done absorbing him. He didn't learn all he could. Didn't get to work it out to the end.It feels ripped apart and stolen. Pages yanked out.The scarf won't clean properly. He knows he'll be throwing it out. There's no harm in leaving it in with the wash, though.Dean's so fed up by the next day that he plops himself down beside Sam at the kitchen table, gets up, follows him to the library when he immediately escapes."You gonna stay pissed at me?""Pretty much. Being pissed at you feels better than my throat right now," he whispers as loud as he can.Dean taps his boot on the chair. "I said I was sorry. I'll say it again: I'm sorry. Cas was right. I told a story that wasn't mine to tell.""Are you sorry that you did it on purpose? To get that exact result?"Dean taps his boot again and the pause is a second too long for him to forgive Dean for another two weeks.He doesn't communicate with him through Cas, he just doesn't sit down at dinner and socialize with him. He wears headphones in the car, at the motel, back at the bunker again. He catches up on podcasts and drowns his brother out whenever he's not required to speak to him.Correction: he catches up on half his podcasts. Doesn't quite hear the other half when he's too busy thinking. Stewing.Trying to focus on things that aren't the time. Like where he would be at this time tomorrow if he left the bunker for Kansas City. Like what Chuck would normally be doing at this time of day. Like how far into the healing process he would have given up and written some sort of manifesto out and slid it across Chuck's kitchen table and watched him read it. Watched him get to the end and say, 'Sure, okay, we can try.'«»Sam hovers over the trash can in the kitchen for a long fucking time before he throws the scarf away.He stays there leaning against the counter and listening to nothing. Staring at nothing. Trying to find some working part within him cranking on despite the fact that his fucking brain can't seem to get over this hill.In all honesty: why is it so hard?What about Chuck was different than Amelia? What about him is a fish hook the likes of which he hasn't ever felt?Chuck is actually free, for one, unlike Amelia. Chuck is actually alive and aware, for two, unlike Jess.He can't say it makes sense but that doesn't lessen the impact, somehow.The fact that he is alive and accessible is maybe what's driving Sam nuts.Compounded by the fact that Chuck knew him to his bones. Felt comfortable around him.Expressed, time and again, that he trusted Sam.There's the rub.He failed in that. Took and took, was greedy for what fit and the trust didn't quite puzzle together properly but he wanted it anyway. Was willing to pretend it did fit.Truth found him out.Dean drifts into his vision.For once he doesn't say anything. He leans against the far wall, across the kitchen from Sam, for quite some time."I know I'm the last person you wanna hear from lately. But if you wanna talk about it." Dean shrugs.Sam gives himself a minute to think. To change his mind. But no."Can we talk about how I said I liked someone and you blew my shot at it? Like the person I'd been confiding in and visiting and who I'd made friends with was just some broad at a bar you wanted me to strike out with?"Dean crosses his arms and just stands there."No? Can we talk about how you got to take my words out of my mouth when I didn't even have words to begin with?" Sam raises his eyebrows. "No again? Okay. Can we talk about how I live with the fucker who yanked me out of hell without my soul-"Dean visibly bristles."- and the guy who stuffed an angel into me when it was the last thing I ever would have wanted, but for some reason, you still get to take my decisions and my stories and my life out of my own hands. And I'm just supposed to come home and sit in your car and make jokes with you and live," he clenches his hands in front of himself, "with being half-empty every day?? I'm supposed to be okay with having all my-- I'm supposed to suck it up and make nice when Kevin fucking asks me to be bros with you again and I'm supposed to look at you when I'm injured and I can't speak and trust you, as my fucking brother to help me get around until I'm healed??"Dean doesn't talk."I said-- I said, 'yeah, Dean, I like this person.' And your reaction to that person dropping his life and helping me the fuck out and saving me from a vampire was, 'Let me tell you one thing that will freak you out the absolute most about Sam. Sam is a fucking joke. Let me tell you why.'""I didn't say that," Dean finally objects."You didn't have to speak it to say it. Kind of like how I didn't have to speak the story about Becky to tell Chuck. Amazing how that works, isn't it? How words mean more than one thing," he mocks marvel and he's more bitter about that than anything because he was learning so much about words. Texts and phone calls and late-night coffee talk that was making him feel whole and human. Words doing double-duty in his life and the very second that words were taken away from him, Dean used them to gut him.Dean rolls the heel of his boot on the floor. He says, "I'm sorry. I am. I'm sorry. And I fucked it up. I guess I fucked it up with someone who meant a lot to you. And it meant more than I gave it credit for. And I did. I did take that from you. And I'm sorry." He waits. But Sam says nothing. "I think. I think if you're okay with it? I think. I should call him. Or meet him. And say that-""I already said that and I damn well don't need you to use my words for me, Dean," Sam hisses. "I guess." He laughs, hollow. "Guess I should be thanking you. That I get to spare someone from myself. Guess I should thank you for inspiring me to just leave it alone. And let him go without me." God. Let go. Yeah.God, this is really painful. This. This shouldn't have been so painful. He was real lucky to get to exchange texts with someone. Lucky to have a friend.There's a pretty good chance this is just what he gets for touching Chuck's face before he fell asleep. For practicing words he thought he'd ever have a chance to deliver.Flew too high. Should have stayed closer to the ground he came from."I don't need you to promise me you won't do it again. Because you will. I don't know if I was gonna change my life. I don't know what would do that. Maybe I'm just here until it ends. You are." He stops and he breathes. "You are my brother. And I do love you. And I do forgive you. And maybe the fact that I get angrier with you every time and find it harder to fucking let go of what you've done? Maybe that should clue you in to what you're doing. What you're doing, handling my life. Okay?"He waits. Waits until Dean says, "Okay."And he leaves for his room because he can't fucking stand this anymore.«»It is Chuck who eventually gathers the guts to call.Though he needed liquid courage to do it.Sam hates himself more than he did when he deleted their eight-month texting thread while wallowing in a motel, alone, outside St. Louis.He hates Dean's guts for shrugging at him like, what can you do?He sits on the floor in his room after packing and unpacking four times.He sighs but he won't fucking weep for himself.It's remembering the watery sound of Chuck's voice that does that.It's. Goddamnit.It's hurting someone he loves that does that.He packs again. Leaves the bags packed. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Sam debates with himself for two days.He is goddamn miserable.Goes to sleep on the second night and wakes up after two hours.It sits inside him. A weight in his gut. It's sat there since Dean opened his mouth in the diner, if he gives it proper credit. And now it feels like it's seeping poison. It feels like he's infectious and he spread his filth all over Chuck and he's so-so sorry and sorry just ain't cutting it.He's the one who got Chuck sober and he wasn't wrong when he thought Chuck was looking in him and seeing things he might come to love.But it's Sam's fault that he didn't get the whole picture. He's angry with Dean and angrier with himself. So angry that he lets it go and swallows this boulder of regret down on his own. Lets the weight sit in his own belly where it belongs.He knows Chuck well enough to know that the issue was a secret, a lie, not a marriage to his ex. Not the fact that it happened - the omission covering it. Chuck certainly doesn't doubt that Sam was forced into it. It was the fact that Dean spouted it off like a joke. The fact that, in their ramblings and wanderings and intense late-night discussions, Sam somehow never got around to telling it himself.And that incident is long dead. Chuck let it go.Sam's the one who didn't forgive himself.And so he drove himself away.Separating himself from a good thing is what's been hurting him for weeks. Weakening his system to the poison. Making him feel absolutely worn. Making Chuck's stilted phone call full of fucked-up loss an actual balm to his soul.So now Sam's self-denial has hurt Chuck and it's not enough for him to be sorry about that. He's devastated and he wants to fix it. Chuck was willing to reach back out and Sam knew that. Sam's silence is now rotting them both out and he wants it to stop. (He wants to go. He wants to go. Maybe it would be better if it stopped because Chuck moved on. But Sam wants to be there.)It's almost one in the morning.Over the last few weeks he's been pulled toward the city. Over the past two days half his mind has already been on the road.He only slept yesterday because he spent the daylight hours replaying the sound of Chuck's loss and regret in his head. Went to bed early and finally just cried his stomach sour. Tried to convince himself everything is out of his hands. He damaged it and has no right to it. He decided to let Chuck go and purposely looked down the path of his future, deliberately excluding the friendship he's come to treasure.It hurt so badly. (It hurt so bad he wanted to call Chuck and be soothed.) It hurt so badly that, because of that phone call, he started to worry what might be happening to Chuck if he came to the same conclusion. He worried how far Chuck might lose himself again. If he's looking at a similarly empty future because he assumes it doesn't matter if he drinks.If Sam damaged Chuck, that also makes it his responsibility to fix him. He won't die drowning in alcohol. Sam is responsible for changing that back to the state--Back to what it was before Winchesters existed.Only then will it be okay for him to back away and leave Chuck to his own life.It has to have sturdier ground than that to actually make him move, though. Because enough of him knows that he'd just be going to see him that if Sam doesn't have another reason he'll make a seriously injudicious play of some kind. Some reckless move to touch him or... fucking begging or... Bottom line is, he needs at least two flimsy reasons to go. One will not suffice.He'll bring coffee. He'll drop in just to see. Just to see if the drinking lasted more than a day. And if it did, he'll have to stick around and fix it. And if it didn't, he'll tell Chuck he did nothing wrong and he's okay. Because he needs to hear that and he needs to know that one screw-up doesn't mean shit in the whole scheme of things. He's done a good job and he shouldn't throw that away. He'll let Chuck know that and then Sam will bluff some kind of hunt and be on his way. Change his phone numbers and just check in every couple mon--He laughs at himself because he's an asshole.Then he gets up and grabs his bags.He meant to pack for one day, but he packed for six.He packed pain pills and plans to stop for bottles of water and something to help with nausea. Things for the detox. And coffee. And.He will not. WILL NOT. Try to stay longer than he's absolutely needed.After this is done - as soon as he leaves - he will stop counting on this. He'll stop planning to see him. He'll make all of this an afterthought and--So maybe, instead he shouldn't go at all. Maybe if he can't control himself he--He doesn't tell Dean he's going. And he doesn't have a car so he has to grab Cas's keys that he so politely leaves on a hook in the garage. Puts a post-it under where they would be that just says, Call me, I'll be back. Sam.He almost turns around four times in the four hour drive (except he doesn't because he doesn't even switch lanes).«»It's too early to show up. Too early for anywhere. So he sits at Starbucks with his first coffee and texts Castiel to let him know he's gone and actively avoids responding to the questions Cas fires back.Sam gets on his laptop and reads the world news and can't concentrate on a damn thing. At 9 it just has to be late enough. He gets another coffee for himself, one for Chuck, and he goes back out to the other side of town. Makes his other purchases at a drugstore and drives the speed limit all the way to the apartment, letting the day age a little more.He does turn around when he gets there.He was going to go in with just the coffees but he's only human and - he's such a complete asshole - and both the pain pills and his toiletries (and his condoms, goddamnit he's such a bastard) are in the smaller bag. He brings that one with.His heart is tripping. He's breathing fast.Sam tries to convince himself it's just from taking the six stairs up too quickly."Hi," he bursts when the door opens.Chuck is hollow-eyed but awake. "H-hey?"Sam clears his throat and holds out one of the coffees.Chuck takes it and lifts the lid, looks in. Then steps aside and motions."Uh, I can't. I can't stay for long," he motions vaguely. "I gotta catch up. We're heading to... Ohio. So." So. So so so transparent. So lame. Such a lie. Why did he just do that again??"Oh," he blinks, still standing by but seems to collect himself. "So are-"Sam just steps in and Chuck doesn't stop him and he doesn't stop himself.So Chuck closes his door and they go to the kitchen to take off their lids and lean and look into their cups as they drink for a long couple minutes.Chuck nods to him and says... that he looks good.And he doesn't need the correction to know what he meant but he also-Standing here. Looking at him. In his home. In his kitchen. In his life. This was a huge, massive, incredibly stupid fucking idea.He's so in love with this man. He's full-stop, gut-in-his-throat, blinking-back-tears in love with this incredible person he could hit the tile and fucking beg to know if he's ever gonna have a shot. Just give it to him in plain language - will Chuck ever let Sam be the one who gets to touch him sometimes? Will he ever think about kissing, maybe? Sex, someday? Coming to the bunker with Sam and letting himself be looked after. He wants the phone calls back, the dumb texting threads. He wants his friend back. He wants the words back, the pointless conversations and the 'Do you know what I learned this week' -- the words. And, if it were ever on the table, he'd want to feel Chuck touch his head. He'd want to come home to him at the end of the day. He's gone. He's just gone.There's only one fucking way to handle this. One last-ditch effort. He can take himself out of the equation and put a lid on this box and never open it again.He takes a breath that's not deep enough and he offers to go, "I can just go."Chuck laughs like he's gotta be fucking kidding. "No! No. I don't want you to go. I hate it when you go. It's quiet and I get lonely. I don't care how long it takes for you to come back. Just. Just come back. Jesus, Sam, you're, like. My only friend. You're. The best. And. No. Just. Starting over is bullshit," he tosses out under his breath.He dumps those words back at Sam's feet because he doesn't want what Sam offered for them: to start over fresh with everything on the table. There's nothing fresh about it. There's just what is.Sam's not fucking kidding anyone. He can't go back to just hanging out. He can't fucking do it. Nothing will take his sight away, take his memories away. Take away the fact that Chuck's been filtering clean his insides. Making sense of his life for him. Spending time with him and seeming to like it.Now, wanting to keep seeing him even after--Behind Chuck sits the damage done. In the long, quiet moment after Chuck says pretty much exactly what Sam wanted to hear, he looks over and sees the booze bottles mixed in with the recycling.Okay. Okay.He wants nothing more than for this to be the last time they are ever, ever apart. Chuck folds into his arms for only the second time and Sam's probably going to do something stupid like kiss his head and press him to the counter and try to taste his mouth. Maybe. Maybe the next time he's actually capable of moving. Once the amazement and shock have worn off.Or maybe Chuck holds him so sweetly that he wouldn't dare ruin it because he intends to come back here. To these arms. At every available opportunity. Wiry tight and clutching at him and. God. Resting. The stress falling out of him like when Sam held him on the side of the road and the adrenaline wore off and his fear and frantic heart and his scrambling hands let Sam take over and block everything out.He saved Sam and then let Sam protect his head.He sinks his chin to Chuck's hair and feels fucking dazed, admits to faking the hunt. Presses him to go out for food."I have a better idea," Chuck says. And Sam only lets him pull away a little to look up. "I think we could both sleep." He searches Sam for a moment. "Come lay down with me?"He's so sure. Sam is so sure.It's gonna take a few more steps to get there but Chuck likes him. Wants him around. Values him. This is going where he thinks it's going. Even if it takes another year or whatever.Chuck wants to share the bed with him. Chuck wants him around. Chuck trusts him.Sam doesn't ask, 'Are you sure?' He only nods.Sam presses him forward, keeps a hand low at his back as Chuck leads him to the bedroom. He dumps his bag right next to Chuck and he turns to lean against him one more time."You just look really exhausted," Chuck cringes.Chuck looks rested enough but Sam can't say so because he knows he probably drank himself to passing out."I think I am," he moves his hand up and down Chuck's arm and marvels at how he doesn't flinch from it. How he seems to find comfort in it. When he normally can't stand to be touched.Chuck turns to switch out his shirt for a worn one, softer, and Sam steps on his heels to kick his shoes off. He didn't bring the bag with sleep clothes, so he just takes his overshirt off. And his jeans.Chuck doesn't make a big deal of stripping to his boxers, too. He takes the side close to the door, like normal. So Sam gets in the other side.He draws the covers up over them and presses in to lay his head close.Chuck fusses with the sheets some. "Were you. I mean, can you- would you be willing to-""Yes.""I mean. I don't think the next couple days are gonna be some of my best," shame colors his tone."I don't care. I'll- whatever you- I can be here. Nothing else is going on. I mean. Yeah. Yes. And you'll be okay. And you'll tell me if you're not."Chuck lets out a long breath and closes his eyes. Scoots in a little.They don't say much else.Until Sam does. He says, "I'm sorry," like a coward, too low to hear."You're gonna have to believe me. That it doesn't matter. Okay?" Chuck whispers."Okay. Missed out on some stuff this month," he noses into Chuck's shoulder, meaning that he missed him."Not really," Chuck whispers back.Wrong. He missed a month out of the rest of his life.When Chuck's asleep, he presses close as he dares and breathes him in.Then drops off like a brick into a river.«»He had meant what he said at the time, but Sam has to go on this case. Dean's being intense about it, so much so he doesn't ask where Sam disappeared off to (as if he doesn't know), and Cas doesn't have time to really bug him about it, just takes his keys back without complaint.So no one bothers Sam. He does the job and, in literally every spare moment, he takes his turn bothering someone else.He feels like shit that he's not there to help Chuck through the tremors. It's not so bad this time but it's still enough of a waking hell that he calls up and breathes on the other end for a few minutes, doesn't say a damn thing, just lets Sam tell him he's gonna be okay. He tells him to take deep breaths until he does. Until they sync up and Sam has to gently but firmly order Chuck to text him because he's gotta join Dean in the car, chase after a suspect.In the whole twenty minutes, it's just Sam talking and Chuck only says, "yeah" a few times.He's gotta earn the damn words back.His texts aren't much more expressive but Sam keeps at him in every spare moment. If he annoys Chuck and makes him answer, he won't have his hands free to get in the car and drive to buy beer.That's pretty weak as far as preventative measures go, but it's what he's got. Until this is done and he can split off again. Get back to Chuck's house and watch him.After a few hours of sending messages out to limited response and only fifteen minutes of total reprieve on Sam's part, Chuck finally coordinates his fingers into asking, If I need u to callll again can u call?.?Dean's in the driver's seat, on the phone with Cas, drilling him on their next moves.Sam dials."Yeah I can," he says when Chuck picks up."Can I take something?""You can take one of those night-time Tylenol and go to sleep, how about that?""How about two?""How about one and you text me if it doesn't work."Chuck huffs on the other end. "My face is hot and my fingers are freezing.""The Tylenol will help with that and the rest will help you sleep through some of this."An unsteady breath on the line. "Okay."Sam wants to say it. He opts for something more tame. "I may be working but I'm right here. I can always step out and answer the phone." And he swears to himself he will because what Chuck's going through right now is no joke. Chuck plays it off like it's whining and it's not just whining - it's a replay of that mess he went through to get clean in the first place and Sam watched that whole ordeal. It wasn't pleasant. It wasn't easy. It's not whining - it's purging toxins. It's his body fighting to right itself again when doing more wrong to it would be so much easier."No you can't. It's fine. You're busy," Chuck insists.He glances to Dean who's still rolling his eyes and griping on his own phone."I really can. Where are you?""C-couch," he shivers. His teeth even clack.He wouldn't be so cold if Sam could hold him. If he were there invading his space and caring for him like he ought to. "Get up and go to the medicine cabinet. Bottle with the blue label. You have water?""Yeah.""Blue label.""Just one.""Yeah."Sam listens to him take it and sigh. He wants to wait until he's asleep, wants to listen for fifteen minutes until the pill kicks in and make sure it's actually gonna help him drift off, but Dean's wrapping up and they're gonna be on the move in a minute."Sleep," he says."Yeah. Yeah, okay.""And if you can't-""I'll text you if it doesn't work.""It will work. But you'll text me in 20 minutes if you're still awake.""I'll." He sighs again. "I'll let it work. I don't want you to have to answer in the middle of-""I can manage.""You can be careful.""I might be capable of both, as a matter of fact.""I'm plugging in my phone. I'm lying down.""Good. You'll be okay," he says softly."Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine. You gotta go?""Yeah.""I'll answer, too. If you call.""'Kay. Thanks." Sam grows warm because that promise means more to him than he thought it would. "Tomorrow?""Yeah."They hang on to the silence for too long before they exchange "Bye"s and it ends stilted because he's not saying everything. It strikes him that Chuck has things he's not saying, too, but that might be the fever and the shakes talking, at the moment, so he can't bank on it being the "I miss you" and "I wanna be back with you" that's sitting at the bottom of Sam's throat.Dean's staring when he hangs up."We're heading to the downtown office, see if we can shake somebody down in the parking lot before they get to their cars for the evening traffic jam.""Right. Okay.""Chuck?" he asks, indicating the phone.Sam blinks at him. Shrugs. Not that it's any of Dean's fucking business."Good. Good, see, I thought you were being less of a bummer and I was totally right," he restarts the car.Sam kind of feels like less of a bummer, he'll give him that.«»Chuck must be sleeping. So he sends just one text. Call when you wake up. I hope you feel better.He meant to say, 'no matter when you wake up,' but he geeks it and just lets it go. He doesn't want the phone going off too much and disturbing him.Sam left the purchases he made as an afterthought. Dumped them off in the medicine cabinet. He hadn't been able to buy more coffee - he didn't find anything really decent, and now he wishes he'd had his head on straight enough for coffee and groceries and snacks and-Then he realizes he wasn't actually gonna stay. His thoughts and actions were so contrary to each other when he was trying to cut Chuck loose. This wasn't supposed to work out. Maybe just in his wildest dreams.He digs his thumb into his palm out of habit. Doesn't really need to pinch himself because somebody already punched him in the head today, so he would probably have shaken out of a dream by now.He's still awake when Chuck texts at four in the morning. Can I take another one yet?The pill he initially took has worn off by now. Sam calls."Hey.""Hey, yeah. You should take another one. Did the first one get you to sleep?""Yeah," he grumbles. "I wanna go back to my nice, unconscious state.""Okay. It'll take a little while to kick in."Chuck sighs and there's a slosh of water, his breath over the bottle. "'Kay. So how's the hunt? You okay?""Fine, good, yeah. Um. Got knocked around a little. Big bruise above my eye," he presses at it and gets up to wander to the bathroom and look at it in the mirror."Leave it alone.""I am.""You're poking at it."Sam smiles. "How do you know?""I know. I might not be at the top of my game right now, but I know." He's quiet for a moment. "Sorry I'm such a mess.""No. Don't say that. You're totally fine," he assures him, straightforward and unquestionable."I was-""I know. And I left you alone like I wasn't in the same state. Like I didn't care or something. I can take a punch but I'm a chickenshit. You shouldn't have to deal with this alone. I offered the first time and that hasn't changed. It's still my job.""It's. It's really not, but thanks for being here at. What's it? Four where you are?""I was up anyway.""God. Why? Unless you're actually on someone's tail consider this cool thing they call 'sleeping.'"He snorts. "I'll look it up." He turns toward the bed but it's pretty much just so he can bunch all the covers and wrap around them like he had someone cuddled inside. It's too soft. There's not an angled, bristly little man in them. "When's the last time you ate?""Ugh," Chuck busts out, with actual disgust. "Please don't make me do that.""You need something in your stomach.""Can't we talk about something else?""You at least choked down a coffee, didn't you?" he points out."But that was basically medicinal. If I didn't have it, I would have gotten a headache, Sam," he whines.Sam is grinning when he shouldn't be. He loves to hear him worming away from responsibility because he thinks he knows exactly how to make him fold. He drops his voice and pleads a little. "I just want your body to keep working. Please don't fall apart; please just eat something for me?"He grumbles, wordless, this time."The pill will kick in soon. Just eat something small and then I'll stop bugging you. You can hang up on me and go to sleep.""So drowsy."Bullshit. He slept 12 fucking hours. "Just something," he insists quietly."Okay," he relents. "Everything sounds gross right now."Sam stays on the phone as Chuck goes through his whole pantry and fridge and finally decides a take-out container of leftover spaghetti doesn't look too gross.Sam stays on the phone while Chuck eats.Sam stays on the phone for every insignificant moment of whining and curling back up in bed and talking circles around the stuff they're not saying until Chuck starts to yawn and slur."I'm a mess," he says one more time, sad and quiet. "Why did you- I don't. Are. Will you come back around again someday?" he finally asks, small and sorry."I will if you want me to," he whispers back.Chuck's so silent, Sam starts to wonder if he fell asleep. "I want you to. Whenever. I know you're busy. I know you have more important things to do."He said Sam could come back as soon as he wanted. That's kind of the most important thing he can think of at the moment."I'll call. I'll let you know.""Do we have to go now?" Chuck asks, probably too drowsy to even understand himself."You should hang up and put your phone away. I'll talk to you when you wake up again," he whispers."I'm sleepy," he says like that's remarkable."Yeah. You should-""Sam I'm such a fuck. I'm so trashy. I'm so sorry. I feel like styrofoam," he rambles."Chuck? You're not making any sense. Time to sleep.""Okay. Alright fine. Come back to bed."Sam laughs. "I'm here already.""Go to sleep," Chuck demands."You first.""'Kay." He hangs up and Sam laughs again.«»Chuck texts around ten. So awake.Sam wants to hear him answer something out loud so he can tell if it's the truth. He calls."How do you feel?""Run over. I have heartburn. It's so gross. You made me eat at three in the goddamn morning. So gross," he gripes. Belches over the line."Chuck. Besides that? Do you feel better? Are you shaky?"A sigh rattles out of him and he's suddenly very serious. "You don't have to do this, Sam. I'm fine. I did it to myself and it was dumb and I'm fine. I mean. I guess I know how to get back to sober on my own. I- I mean," he suddenly stutters, "not that- if you wanted. I mean. If you were thinking you might come back. I mean. That would be. But you don't have to hand-hold me through." He stops suddenly. "How. How are you?"Sam tosses up a hand, shrugs. "I'm worried about you," he admits.Chuck doesn't say anything."We're probably still a day away from wrapping up here," Sam admits."I'm in-" Chuck stops. "I think I might still have a fever.""I wouldn't be surprised. Maybe watch tv. Eat something else?""Thank you. Just. Thanks for. Being you, Sam."And he doesn't know what to make of that.Pretty much just wants to say-- Just wants to start asking dumb questions. I was going to assume you're bi; are you bi? Have you ever lived with someone? Would it be okay if I hung up and jerked off to the memory of your voice? Or would you maybe wanna wait until I see you again? "You don't have to keep checking in," Chuck finally says.Sam swallows. "I really hope that's the last out you give me because I'm not actually planning to take any of them. As long as I'm allowed to call back-""Okay," Chuck cuts him off. Do you date? Do you really prefer the left side of the bed? Do you really normally sleep with clothes on? How many times can I call you before it sounds needy and lame? "Yes," Chuck says out of nowhere."What?""Sorry. Prophet stuff. It's like déjà vu sometimes. Like a glitch in the Matrix. You were about to ask if we're still friends and if you're still coming over and if you're still allowed to-- just yes. Yes to all. Just call before you come over. In case I'm not here to let you in, I might be at the store or something and I couldn't handle the Big Sad Face if you got all the way here and I didn't answer and you assumed I wasn't talking to you anymore and changed your numbers and ignored my emails and were just like, Welp, I hope Chuck has a nice rest of his life, because I'll just call Cas and tattle on you. I have his number, now."Sam blinks for a minute. "Big Sad Face. I don't know what you're talking about," he lies."I don't know what you're talking about, he lied," Chuck quotes him with fucking dialogue tags. Do you talk this much during sex? Because I really hope so. Have you ever thought about settling down with someone? Is height a deal-breaker? Can you please just let me know the very first moment you're ready for me to fucking kiss you? "I'm ordering a sandwich. I think they deliver to my complex.""Are we hanging up?""Not if I can order it online. Tell me about the case.""If you've still got a fever, you should be resting.""Oh GOD they deliver drinks, too. A minimum of four. I guess that means I'll have three coffees for later."Sam smiles. "I'm glad you're feeling better.""Do you really need to hang up?""Do they take online orders?""Yeah.""So, okay. Cas sees this ad in the paper for a haunted apartment. Dean thinks he's heard of the place before and he remembers..."«»Chuck lets him touch him, now, which is nuts.Because Sam's pretty sure he broke his heart and he comes back into town, now, again and again, and they hug and they sleep with their arms pressed and Chuck made him crouch and hold still in line at the bank so he could endorse the back of a paycheck on his shoulder.Chuck lets Sam hug him before he leaves. He feels Chuck breathe under his hands and he thinks every time that, some day, maybe a few months down the road or something, he'll have the guts to press a kiss to Chuck's face and not laugh all nervous and try to let it go like a joke.He cycles out every few days so this happens every few days and he keeps falling into this hole thinking about it.Maybe after he gets done with a bad case. Maybe Chuck will be here and be his quiet, sympathetic self, and Sam will be worn and bruised and able to kiss him softly at the threshold and say, I just didn't think I was gonna see you again. Maybe Chuck will let him do that.There are free days when he can't spend any more time at the apartment. He starts to feel self-conscious about how lonely and desperate he is. Or he thinks about going for a run so he can take a second shower and masturbate again. Like, seriously.There are cases. And days off. And things find a rhythm.He could head back to the bunker today. He normally would. To prod Dean into a case and maybe steal a new car for himself since this one's been on the road a while now.Sam keeps not wanting to go. They were in Texas a week ago and he couldn't tell-- well. He keeps telling himself he couldn't tell if Chuck was only making fun of him.Chuck had said: "I miss you."It was offhand and maybe not as big of a deal as he's making it. But, this time, when Sam showed up, Chuck let him hug him when he got here. When he got back. Not just because he was about to leave.He's still got the going-away hug to look forward to. He's gonna ask Chuck. Maybe -- like maybe he'll ask right before he leaves, 'You gonna miss me?' and try to make it funny, but.He's obsessed. It's not funny; he's quite simply hanging his every action on what happens within Chuck. Within the walls of this apartment. He doesn't want to go home today. He doesn't want distance. He wants to drive Chuck nuts until he asks what the hell is wrong with him and.Sam gets out of bed and up to make the coffee.He has to leave today.Can't make a nuisance of himself, just in case it wasn't a joke. Just in case Chuck really meant that he missed him.Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.Absence sucks that way.Chuck trails out eventually. Washes the brown mug that Sam got him. He's always so careful with it. He doesn't want it to break. Sam's actually considered cruising eBay for a backup just in case it bites dust.Sam watches his back. Knows the worn-friendly-sleepy smell of the t-shirt he's wearing because he woke up with the bridge of his nose curved over Chuck's shoulder.The tap cuts off.Chuck turns and comes forward and.Climbs up. And. Straddles his lap."Ch-"Chuck fucking kisses him.Chuck kisses him and it's mouthy and goes deep real fast and does. not. stop.It doesn't stop, it's really happening, their mouths are hot and dry and he only tasted skin because he burnt his mouth a little on the coffee but Chuck tastes like the air in his room and Chuck is kissing him and not stopping.Fuck.He doesn't even have time to mess around. Has no self-restraint. He palms Chuck's ass and grabs him up tight and close and if he weren't about to break down and fucking weep he'd be getting so fucking hard right now.'Cause Chuck just lets him do it. Chuck only stops for breath when he absolutely has to.Chuck doesn't stop kissing him. He comes back in for more.Sam doesn't want to know what he has to say when he does stop. He's so fuck-scared it's not gonna be what he's hoping for because this isn't just sexual tension and this isn't just friends. He's been in love before and it feels more towering every time. This dwarfs him. If he had more sense, he'd be scared of it instead of just what Chuck might-"Don't go today. Don't go today," he breathes.Chuck. Oh, his fucking heart. Oh, his sweet fucking heart.Of course. He only ever says what Sam needs to hear. Fucking of course.Sam is gonna keep this forever. He was right. For once he was right. He found this and it's a perfect fit.God. Chuck feels even more amazing this close. Tight to his hips and a new, comfortable weight on top of Sam.Sam's just a fucking riot of claiming thoughts and want and raw goddamn need. Mind scrambling for deeds to be done. Ways to earn this. Promises to make.The stillness of Sunday morning beyond them. A world outside the apartment that has no idea what Chuck has just given to him. No idea that Sam just became the happiest, luckiest fucker on the planet. And so all that ultimately falls out of his mouth is, "Please?"He's got nothing else. Nothing better. No real things to offer and no idea how the hell he's really gonna earn this. He feels like he's starting off at zero, underground, basement-level. He just doesn't want this to end. He just wants Chuck to finally-finally-finally bring him up and hold him and love him and-Chuck palms his face, gentle and perfect, and only kisses him more. He lets Sam hold him here, keep him here. His fingers trail and Sam sways to lean into them.He's so in love. He's so in love. He wants this every morning of the rest of forever.Someone who thinks he's worth it is sitting on his lap touching him like he matters. Pled for him to stay. Dove in and kissed him, when Sam thought it would be asking a lot to even approach the subject in a few months' time.Chuck tells him he saved the world. Chuck tells him he deserves friends. Chuck tells him he's good.Sam's body wants to haul him to bed and fucking claim every inch of him.Sam would like to sink into him and come until he's shooting literal blanks.He breathes. Falls back and kisses down Chuck's jaw, knowing better.More than anything? This should be done right."Let me make you breakfast," he swears he's gonna put at least something inside of this little body. He's gonna feed and protect him. Keep him healthy and whole. He's serious. There might be fucking vitamins involved.They end up making out on the couch, on-and-off, for hours. He gets up when Chuck has to find one of the games on tv and he brings back Pop-Tarts, then coffee. Presses the mug into Chuck's hands. Drags him back across to his own lap.Sometimes Chuck just leans and breathes against him.Sometimes he mutes the set and tosses the remote to the opposite end of the couch and Sam's mouth is already watering. Ready to be taken and eyes rolling back in his head at the feel of fingers in his hair. Dying to hear his name repeated and repeated with the certainty and constancy of punctuation.He plants Chuck on the couch and keeps him there. Collects kisses as he walks by when he goes to refill their mugs; when he finally goes to get his chirruping phone.Dean, of course. Things are still tense with Dean because Sam wants them to be.This doesn't put Sam in a more generous mood. It makes him angry about the time he missed out on. Yes, he would have told Chuck eventually and things may have been weird for a while, but Sam almost missed out on this because of the way Dean handled it.He gets his stuff to take a quick shower and calls Cas."Hey.""Sam. You sound-"Sam shuts himself inside the bathroom. "I won't be back this week," he jumps in.Cas is silent down the line for a while. "Are you alright?"Better than. "Yeah. Actually, yeah. Um-""You're staying with Chuck for a while.""I just. I don't need Dean thinking-""He's prepared to give you all the space he can handle if you'll-""Chuck kissed me." Cas is his friend. He suddenly realizes that Cas is his friend and Cas will care.He "hmms" a bit. "Did you want him to?""God, yes. I'm gonna fuck this up, right? I mean there's no way this-""You might want to take this week to try before you deny yourself the enjoyment of someone's company. It isn't fair to Chuck or yourself to assume the worst. I know that, in your experience, it seems as if nothing ever goes well. But. You can allow yourself to hope. I've never known you not to try your best, Sam. I think you should trust yourself to work hard on something that overjoys you. It's hardly as if you'll allow it to just sit and develop on its own."Sam laughs out a breath. "Are you saying I can't stop being a meddling little shit?"Cas has a smile in his voice. "Not explicitly. It may be implied. You thought you were going to leave him alone. But you knew better. Don't convince yourself otherwise. Enjoy your week, Sam. I'll let your brother know you called.""Thanks, Cas."He blinks at his phone. Then he tosses it aside and takes a seriously fast shower.He just started a new job. He wants to get back to work.When he gets out, he only wears the towel. The bedroom door is open and he knows the room is visible from the couch, but he doesn't see Chuck out there when he glances back.He might wanna do this slow and steady and make it right, but he's definitely not gonna be able to walk away if Chuck doesn't want to wait. He's also not above playing chicken. (In fact, he'll flash the goods if it comes to it, like, come on.)He smells fresh coffee being made.By the time he's pulling his shirt on, Chuck is wandering in with both their mugs. He hands Sam's over as he's tossing his wet hair back."Thanks."Chuck grins and comes up close and he doesn't stand on his toes. He just waits.Sam smiles and comes down to him. Comes down to kiss him."You done in there?" he nods toward the door."Yeah. All you." But he takes their coffees and sets them on the bedside table. Because he just caught a glimpse below Chuck's collar and realized he left marks right there, almost visible. Shit. Shit. He cups Chuck's head in his hands and runs down his neck, down his front, to his waist and pulls him in and drags his lips down Chuck's throat to cover the marks with his mouth. To taste him again before he's showered clean."Sam," his hands come up to Sam's front and one of them flattens, pressing. The other tangles in his shirt front so he stops but he doesn't go anywhere. "Kinda. I mean. It doesn't hurt but-"Fuck. He hadn't even thought- "Sorry. Shit. Sorry." He puts his hand over the little bites he left and soothes them with his thumb. "Fuck. I didn't ask. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"Chuck tugs on his shirt front. "Hey," he whispers. "Shhh. Stop. Come here."Sam kisses an apology into his mouth.Chuck accepts this while kind of... petting at Sam's chest. And up to his shoulders. And carding into his wet hair. He falls back a bit and lets Sam press him to the wall. "How are we?" he's still whispering. "Are we freaked out?" he seems genuinely concerned."I didn't mean to hurt you." And that could go for. Wow. A few things right now."It's not like 'ow' really painful. It's just." Chuck takes a breath. "Maybe ask next time. Maybe I'll get used to it," he shrugs, "but-""No. I can ask. I don't have to-- I wasn't thinking."Chuck takes a big breath and lets it go with a huge smile. "Sam. Learning. Learning by doing. No pressure. Does it bother you when I--?" he sweeps Sam's hair back.No, he definitely likes that part. "You can do that whenever you want.""Okay. Piece by piece with me, alright? Doesn't all have to be- I mean. I know... you?? I know you. And. I know that doesn't make you comfortable, exactly. And I still." He stops. "I donno. I don't necessarily wanna have a full lecture series on this so just," he shrugs again and Sam knows he's supposed to kiss him.He isn't ready to break it down and talk the whole thing out yet. And, okay, that's fine. If they're doing this piece by piece, they should get around to all of it. Over days and weeks, he can kiss him, learn him, and pull answers out of him. Negotiate their boundaries and talk. Sam can be patient for that, as long as he can have this. He'll do anything to just end up keeping this.Until then? Sam would be happy to just make out, yeah.Chuck takes his turn in the bathroom, only his fastest shower ever is like ten minutes long.Sam's phone buzzes with a couple more texts from Dean. Breaking pattern. I feel like ur trying to tell me somethin and Thanks for talking to Cas.Sam has no idea how much Cas might have said. He would be trying to construct messages back to Dean but. Well.It's kind of the perfect opportunity, if he thinks about it.While Chuck's naked. In the shower.He could knock on the door. Chuck is right there. He could.He could join him.He could fuck him for the rest of the day. Lay him out and exhaust him. Suck him dry and open his ass with his tongue.Or Sam could palm himself on the couch after three minutes and clean himself up again by the time Chuck gets out. Try to calm down.Then draw Chuck back over and wait to make love when it's right. When Chuck's used to his touch and ready for him. When they've learned more about how to be to each other. Chuck hasn't even swept his hands down and all over yet. Sam's been handling him all day, pulling his legs over his own and hugging him close and taking Chuck's hands and drawing them back to his shoulders so he can tug him in and just hold him.Maybe he needs to show Chuck how he likes to be touched.Sam actually gets as far as the bathroom door. He drifts over and stands there for a full minute not knocking. Just licking his lips and thinking about it.He goes back out to the main room and makes sure his hands are clean as soon as the water cuts off.It comes closer, later. When they're kinda hot on touching each other and well-fed and rested, but buzzing in proximity to one another.Chuck's pretty receptive to having Sam haul him into place. He shoves him onto the couch with a little more force than intended, still getting used to his weight and frame, and ends up getting on his hands and knees above Chuck so he isn't tempted to lay down on him and start grinding. But they keep making out from there and these dizzy words of amazement fall out of Chuck. Always saying his name. Saying "Hi" and "Wow, alright" and a lot of "do that one again."Sam starts sinking down on him before he knows it and catches himself. Takes a breath and leans back up.Chuck whines and reaches to touch him wherever he can. Tries to draw him back down.Yes. Sam will take more of all of this noise, please and thank you. He loves this fucking noise.He loves it.He loves Chuck.He has to remember not to say that part yet.At least not on the first day.«»When he sat down on Sam and kissed him and whispered, Chuck didn't want him to go. So Sam makes sure he doesn't ask when he should leave this time. His instinct is to feel like a burden and feel like he wears out his welcome. But he was asked to stay, so he's goddamn staying until Chuck says he should leave or something big comes up.Chuck is fine with sleeping in his arms. It's been cold outside, lately, so maybe he's been lucky and Chuck just can't worm away from his admittedly unreasonable heat. After the first few days, he even figures out that there's a certain way he can hold Chuck and just make him drowsy and languid.Chuck likes it. He likes being pawed at and having Sam hang close and that's too much. It's just so very much of a good thing that Chuck even notices Sam's disbelief, just from the feel of him, before he even hesitates aloud and asks if he's being too clingy.He turns in Sam's loose hands, where he stands at the counter, and says, "When I don't like it, I promise I'll tell you," and pulls Sam's arms tighter around himself. "Okay?"Sam hugs him tight for a moment until the toast pops up.Then, when Chuck turns away, he's free to chase after, to catch up to him and keep hanging off of him.Chuck doesn't think he's weird. It's okay."What about me?" Sam asks after breakfast. "You don't think I mind, right?" He suspects Chuck just isn't used to touching somebody else freely, but he wants him to. Chuck is naturally more careful than Sam is. He hasn't been grabbing for Sam at every opportunity. And... you know. Sam kind of wants him to.Chuck dusts the food off his thumbs and takes Sam in skeptically. "Wait. Do I have free license to. Um. Like.""Yes," Sam allows."Like I can. Just.""Yes."Chuck considers him still and keeps eating. Not quite disbelief but... more caution. Like he's formulating how he's gonna test this.Of course, Sam didn't know he'd like that, too -- being looked up and down. Parts of him evaluated for where Chuck might want to grab him, hang on to him, hold him and keep him close. He's in need of groceries-- they-- they are in need of groceries. So they both get dressed and don't really mention it again. Until they're at the front entryway, bundling and about to leave for the first time since. Well.They're going to try not to crack this fragile shell. See if they survive out in the real world where they used to just hang out as friends."Ready?" Sam asks, hand on the door. But Chuck stops him. Shakes his head.He moves in front of Sam. Like really wedges between him and the door. He stands there.Sam has learned that Chuck might reach up if he wants to be held or kissed, but he doesn't stretch up on his toes. He waits there like he's not sure he's doing this right.Sam wants him to feel like he's doing this perfectly, because he is. So he reads the signs and he takes Chuck's face in his hands and smiles into kissing him.Chuck's hands go to his hips. Go to his back. Go to his ass. And Sam's breath stutters and he's not smiling anymore, he's deadly fucking serious. He presses Chuck flat to the wall and touches him gently. Feels the sort of back-pocket slide of Chuck's hands turn into a grip on his ass.He kisses away, round to Chuck's ear and says "Yes" into it.Just yes. Yes all the time.Chuck's hands return up, under his shirt and to his lower back.He closes his eyes and hugs Sam."Just. Sam. Are you totally sure? Are you really fucking sure?"He's asking because the world out there hasn't been exposed to them as a couple yet.He's asking because he wants Sam to have one more choice. Another chance to back out and hold up and protect himself.These are things Chuck wants for him. To live his own life based on what he wants and needs.Sam wants. To be seen at the grocery store with him.Because a week and a half ago they wandered, talking for an hour, as friends.This week, he's going to hold his hand out to him when he grabs a cart. He's going to tell Chuck that this is how couples go buy deli meat and bread. He's gonna start Chuck on vitamins E, C, and A.He's going to watch Chuck choose him back. Again."Yes. Ready to go?"
10292738	Unleashed	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Thomas Hunt, Priya Singh", "Fandom": "Hollywood U: Rising Star", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-14T00:00:00", "words": "3,100", "Additional Tags": "Angst, Cheating, idek where this came from tbh, but i felt compelled once i started", "Relationship": "Thomas Hunt/Priya Singh", "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 tension in the small room was so thick it was practically suffocating Thomas. He was frozen to the spot on the sofa, pinned by Priya's piercing gaze.It bothered him that this was their current predicament because if anyone should have been angry it was him. And he was angry, so why was she the one staring him down in unmasked fury?"Say something, Thomas," she said, standing tall before him, perfectly manicured hands on her hips, fine lips drawn in a tight line. She was the mental image of a scolding mom, something she should not have been because she was his lover – or so he thought.He refused to meet her eye, fighting down the urge to get up in her face and tell her exactly what was going through his mind. "I can't speak to you right now.""Why not?""Because," he started, anger stirring and causing his tone to rise in volume. Then he let out a deep sigh, and turned his head toward his lap, staring at his clenching and unclenching fists. "Because I don't want to say something I'll regret."It was the wrong thing to say. Priya groaned out in her own bout of frustration, stepping away and turning her back to him. Why was she so mad at him? Why wasn't she groveling in front of him, begging for his forgiveness?"Fuck that!" she said, turning back at him the same moment he picked his head up, staring at her with wide eyes. "Fuck regrets, Thomas. Get mad. Tell me how you feel. I want to hear it, I need to hear it."His eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Oh, you need to hear it? Let me just pour my heart and soul out to you then, make you feel better.""Cut the crap. If you don't talk to me right now, I'm going to walk out that door and never step foot back in."Thomas narrowed his eyes at her. In the mood he was in right now, he didn't think he cared if she did just that. So he said nothing, instead, going to the door and opening it himself. He stared at the carpet before him as he addressed her."Don't let me stop you."Because obviously he wasn't enough. Obviously she didn't want a good man who loved her and took care of her. She had to go and screw up the only good, lasting relationship she'd had.He held his breath as she speed walked her way over to him, stopping before him with her hands crossed over her chest."No," she said."No?""No," she repeated, more firmly. A fresh wave of annoyance flared up in him and he snapped his gaze up to meet hers. "I'm not leaving."Thomas glared at her a second more, muscles in his jaw clenching before sighing defeatedly. "Just go, Priya. There's nothing more to say.""Bullshit."He smacked his lips, feeling the slow build of his anger as he struggled to contain it. "What do you want from me?" he said, and the pitiful crack in his voice was enough to have him turning away from her, rushing to get away from her and the ugly feelings coursing through his veins.Why couldn't she just go before he did something stupid, like call her out on her faults, or even worse, let her in on just how much she had hurt him. It was taking every rational fiber of his being to hold back all the vile names he was calling her in his head because unlike most people, he cared about the outcome of situations. He thought before he spoke so that he never had anything to apologize for or regret when everything was said and done.He had learned in his life that while words said in anger didn't often reflect one's true feelings... Well, forget that. It was a lie, that's what he'd learned. Truths were often spoken out of inebriated minds, their train of thought too clouded, whether it be by alcohol or blind rage, it was all the same, to filter out the niceties a sober mind would do. People can deny it later when they're no longer harboring such hatred, but deep down, they had spoken harsh truths about the other so as to cause pain in that moment, but when the moment was gone and the fury washed away, all that was left was a simple truth.Thomas had had his fair share of arguments with people insulting his harsh demeanor or his work ethic, and he had learned to keep people at a distance because of this. He never wanted to admit it, but their words stung when it was from people he cared for. There was truth in it; he was hard on his students. He was especially critical to his bright students because other people in their growing careers, more important people, would be, and it was his job to prepare them for their life beyond schooling.Did they honestly think he got pleasure from his actions? If only they knew how much of a favor he was doing them...And then Priya came along, and it was like he wasn't alone. He didn't have to come home to a grand mansion that housed only one. He didn't have to battle his inner demons by himself. He didn't have to be the bad guy by himself anymore. He gave himself over to her completely, trust and all. Laid himself bare in front of the only person who cared enough to look.And then today happened.She followed him out onto the deck of his balcony now, a spacious room, just like any other room in his house. It was a horrible idea for him to buy a mansion all that time ago. Why had he let his 24 year old self make decisions?"Thomas," she said again and he wanted to yell at her that she wasn't allowed to say his name like that, like it belonged to her. He stopped against the glass barrier separating him from falling into the built in pool in his backyard, hands on the metallic railing as he grabbed it tightly, silently taking his anger out on the inanimate object. This was safe. This is what he'd always known."Priya," he said through clenched teeth, hissing the word out like a warning. Apparently, this only egged her on."You're being extremely childish about this whole thing."Each word coming out of her mouth was a blow and she knew it. She was pushing his buttons, and fuck, did she know how to do that after the year they had spent getting to know each other's bodies and ticks and minds."You can't tell me that you're not angry with me. Fucking show me."Thomas clenched his eyes shut against the onslaught of images and sounds assaulting his senses, though in darkness, the scene was in vivid detail. Her arms were wrapped around his neck as he trailed his mouth down the exposed column of her throat, the sweat of their bodies glistening in the stark sunlight that shone through the window. Her moans were loud against the echo of the walls, vibrating throughout the whole house; uncaring in volume, as if the walls would keep her secret. Which they very well might have had Thomas not come home early and walked into the hot, musky room that was theirs to the sight of Priya mid climax, wrapped up in the arms of another man. Priya's voice slammed through his thoughts once more and his eyes flew open. "Thomas," she said, voice dangerously low, "Man the hell up and tell me what's going through that thick head of yours.""Shut the hell up!" Thomas yelled, whipping around and stalking over to her in a matter of seconds. It was almost scary to him how clouded his vision was as he tried to focus on Priya's shrinking yet determined gaze before him. His face was centimeters from hers, his nose mere inches from bumping with hers as he shook with visible anger. His body didn't know whether to back up and give her some space or push her away from him with his entire body."Is this what you want, Priya? You want me in your face and telling you all the coarse thoughts that are racing through my head right now? Fine!" he barked, and she cringed, finally finding the will to move as she slowly stepped backwards, her eyes narrowed at him, waiting to hear what he had to say."You're a bitch. You know, that? I gave you my— I told— You're—" he stuttered, unable to articulate exactly what he wanted to say first, his anger bubbling over violently as he poured all of the raging emotion out of him, physically and emotionally. His fists were clenching and unclenching by his side, chest rising and falling with the force of his emotion. He hadn't let his anger loose like this since he was a petulant child, and the whole uncontrollable feeling was foreign and dare he say, scary.In the back of his mind, he knew he was making a mistake. He knew there would be a fallout that would change the circumstances of their relationship forever. And while she had been the one to cause the sudden rift in their easy way of life together, he realized that this had actually been a long time coming.He wrung his hands out in front of him as if he were strangling the air with his very hands. "You're so selfish. How could you do that to me? How could you have sex with that guy? I don't even know who he was; who was he? How could you do that and still stand there in front of me and confront me as if you merely forgot to pick up milk this morning? Which you did by the way!"He didn't know if he truly expected an answer or not, but Priya stood there not five feet away from him and watched him with calculating eyes, not appearing to feel the need to defend herself. There was something there, though. A knowing glint, as if she were in control of this disastrous situation. It was unnerving because he felt like he was falling into an endless pit, and how dare she still be calm and collected at a time like this."And stop standing there so still and unaffected. I'm yelling at you. I am mad at you. Why aren't you explaining yourself, why aren't you showing me anything, why aren't you … sorry?"And with that slight revelation, the rest of his anger drained away, effectively done using its outlet. The puffed up air in him deflated out of him, and his hands fell limply to his side. A dull ache started to thump behind his temples and he tiredly reached out to rub his forehead."I need to..." he started, heading for the kitchen. Very faintly, the pitter patter of her tiny feet trailed behind him. He couldn't even muster the energy for a sigh.He searched through the cabinets, trying to remember where he put the bottle of aspirin the last time he had used it. It was always in a different fucking place and he blamed Priya for that.He tilted his head toward her, still avoiding eye contact. "Where's the aspirin?""Cabinet beside the fridge. The one with my story notebooks, not the one with your old scripts."He quickly found the little white bottle that would ease his head pain and tapped two into his clammy, aching hands. He'd curled his fists so tight and so long he didn't even notice until his fingers pained around the bottle.After downing two of the pills with water, he joined Priya by the island, leaning his hip against the counter. Priya sat beside him in one of the ornate chairs that was her usual spot. She was the one who had picked out these particular chairs, not one for the minimalist style Thomas preferred. He glanced around the room, surveying every spot of bright color that stuck out like a sore thumb. All Priya.He turned to her, eyes downcast. "You know what happens now, right?"Priya sighed, crossing her legs and folding her arms over them. "I'm afraid I do."There it was again. That monotonous tone of no wrongdoing. He couldn't hold the question back anymore. He slowly peeled his gaze from where her hands were interlocked and looked into her eyes.They were already on his, as if they were just waiting to catch his gaze. "What was the point of all of this?" he asked her. She had gotten him so worked up and pulled his anger out of him so carefully. At first, he thought it was so that they could move past this incident quickly and try to mend things. But looking at her now, with the small smile that promised no happy endings, he didn't know what to think."Believe it or not, I actually did it for you."Thomas scoffed. "If you're just going to play games—""I knew you wouldn't believe me," she said, laughing haughtily."Feel free to enlighten me, Pri. I'd love to hear all about the good you did for me today."She only gave him a disapproving look at his hostile tone, but continued nonetheless. She leaned forward, ever closer to him and he fought the urge to flinch away. "Remember when you told me how your mom was when you were little? About how she didn't tolerate it when you expressed your anger?"Thomas' eyebrows furrowed, unsure why she was— "Oh, for the love of— Did you just mother hen me? Giving me the release I never received as a child?"Her eyebrows shot up in amusement, though she tried to hide it. "I wouldn't call it that. Besides, I've been meaning to get you to release some of that pent up anger for a long time. It's okay to let your loved ones know when you're upset.""I'm not a mess for you to clean up, okay? Just because some weird, unfortunate instances occurred when I was a child doesn't mean it's your job to try and make it right. Besides, it's too late. I'm almost 30 years old. Whatever parts of me that have changed are done now. I'm afraid I've done all the growing I was meant to do."All the laughter in her face drained away at the serious tone in his words, replaced by something even worse—pity. "Do you honestly believe that? Because it's not true.""Please, your pity is no better. Can we go back to yelling at each other?""Because you would love that.""I would, actually. It's our default now, you can't ask for more than that.""No," she said sadly. "I suppose not." After a tense pause, she added, "Be honest, though. How great did it feel to lose control like that?"Thomas blinked, and then laughed softly to himself, remembering the awful words he had called her. "It was freeing. I'm so used to holding back that letting go felt like unleashing a wild animal. I would say sorry about calling you a bitch, but I'm not.""Don't apologize. I really fucked up this time, and I can't see anything I do changing your opinion of me now. I don't even know why I did it—"Thomas held up a hand. "Let's just not. I don't want to think about it anymore."This was it. This was the part where things would get awkward. It should have been that part, but with Priya … she just didn't conform to normality. It never touched her free spirit."I do believe we have reached an impasse," she said softly, glancing up at him. He held her gaze and just reveled in it for a moment. This would be the last time that he could look upon those beautiful eyes with something resembling love. He sighed, closing his eyes. He was going to miss this."Thomas," she breathed, the name bittersweet coming from her lips. He opened his eyes to find her standing before him, equally as focused on trying to remember the little details of his face before it would become just another mundane thing in her life.Her hands came up to rest on his chest and he let it happen. Anything could happen right now because no finalities were spoken, not really. It was two o'clock in the morning and they were standing in his knick knack filled kitchen and the whole world was slowing down so that the two of them could have this last moment together.He whispered her name as well, pouring every emotion he ever held for her in that one word. All the anger and the sadness and the happiness and the lust and the confusion and the love. It was all there in his eyes, too, he knew it was because he could see it reflected back in her own eyes.His hands had slid to her waist of their own volition, needing the contact to go along with the memories. Memories of them fighting over stupid things, playing in the snow together on their way to work, watching TV together on their nights in. Even the more sensual ones, her panting breaths in his ear, the feel of her sweaty skin against his palms, the oh so sweet friction of their hips trying to join together as one for a little while.If he were any other man, he would probably be shedding a tear at the thought that the past year of his life was coming to a close. And if she were any other woman, she would probably be shedding a tear for the same reason. But they were Thomas Hunt and Priya Singh—experts at portraying the perfect persona—and if there was one thing that brought them together in the first place, it was the incredibly strong hold they had over their masks, never slipping even in these most intimate moments.Perhaps it was this fact, this one piece that brought them together, that tore them apart in the end. They spent so much time trying be someone they weren't that when they tried to be themselves around each other, they didn't know who they were anymore.If they didn't know who they were, then how could they be expected to truly love the other?
10270289	youre throwing your life	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Heather McNamara, Heather Chandler, Veronica Sawyer, Jason Dean, Heather Duke", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "682", "Additional Tags": "Im bad at this, Suicide Attempt, this is literally shine a light reprise, heather chandler is alive bitches, only kurt and ram are dead, bc they YUCKY", "Relationship": "Heather Chandler/Heather McNamara", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Heather McNamara didn't know how much of a mistake sharing out her feelings and thoughts of suicide to Ms. Flemming's class was."I.." The short blonde paused. "Go on Heather, this is a safe place." Ms. Flemming insisted."I've had thoughts about suicide. I want to die- and- and the last guy I had sex with committed suicide. I feel like- I'm drowning- like- I- I'm in a lifeboat.. and it's sinking." McNamara breathed. She looked around, seeing the dumbfounded faces of all the kids around her. That's when Heather Duke decided to break the beautiful silence. "Oh look! Heather's gonna cry!" She laughed. The rest of the classes laughs crashed over Mac like a tidal wave; they were fast and made her feel defenseless. No matter how much she struggled, they continued to pull her under."Whine whine whine! You're pathetic because you whine!" Dukes voice jabbed Mac's heart and clouded her thoughts.Heather could barely make out Duke, Veronica, and that Jessie James boy. And- oh no. Heather Chandler was right there, staring at her with dead, cold, gray eyes.The class seemed to loom over her, taunting her. The girl's heartbeat sped up.Mac couldn't take it anymore; she got up, and hastily walked to her locker, taking out some sleeping pills that she kept in there just in case. She ran to the bathroom, unsure of what she was about to do. She fiddled with the cap angrily. "Stupid childproof caps!" She whined. Dukes voice was unbearably loud in her head now. "Whine whine whine! You're pathetic because you whine! You whine all night! You don't deserve to live!" Mac felt helpless, and like she was on the tiniest lifeboat, with nowhere to go. She finally got the pill bottle open by smacking it against the sink. Heather stared at the pills, counting. Twenty. Twenty little pills that would save her- get rid of everything. They'd end it all. This made Heather smile. She shoved them in her mouth, nearly gagging at the horrible taste. Why couldn't they like, be cherry flavored or something?That's when her guardian angel burst in, clad in red and clearly very pissed off."Heather McNamara. Put. The. Pills. Down. Now." Heather Chandler hissed. McNamara let out a yelp. Chandler strutted over, snatching the bottle from her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Chandler hissed.McNamara's blue eyes flickered up, and she exhaled, holding back a sob."Suicide is such a private thing."Chandler let out a small groan."You're throwing your life away to become a statistic on U. S. fucking A. Today; that's about the least private thing I can think of!" Chandler growled. The red girl threw the pills on the floor, stomping on them.McNamara let out a yelp of protest."Now- I'll repeat myself. What the hell do you think you're doing?"McNamara tried to hold in her tears, she really did. But... she failed. Tears flooded McNamara's eyes. "I'm sorry- so, so, so sorry!" McNamara sobbed."Answer my question!" Chandler hissed, concern bubbling in her stomach."Removing myself from th-is G-God awful planet!"Chandler was taken aback- and she let out a soft exhale. She lowered herself next to her best friend, and glanced at her wearily."That isn't a goddamn solution-" Chandler mumbled, grasping Mac's arm softly. Mac was surprised herself; the Demon Queen of Westerburg high was being extremely kind. Mac honestly thought she'd frown and hiss, "Suck it up!" or something.But she didn't.McNamara blinked tears from her eyes, and sprang up to her friend, swinging her arms around her neck, sniffling. Chandler froze, and slowly put a arm around her. Chandler then lifted herself up, bringing Mac up with her. Mac leaned on Chandler with shaky legs, and bleary eyes. She sniffled again. "Can we p-please get out of here-?" Mac whispered. Chandler nodded. "I only have History left. Lets go."Chandler grabbed Mac's hand softly, and slowly began to take her to the door."Oh- H-Heather- one more thing?" Mac spoke up softly."Yeah?""Thanks for coming after me."
10209803	Getting Her Hands Dirty	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Paladin Danse (Fallout), Nyx O'Grady-Callahan (OC), Female Sole Survivor, Ghoul Character(s), Settler Character(s), OFC", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by NakhudaNyx", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-10T00:00:00", "words": "3,460", "Additional Tags": "Friendship, Pre-Relationship, No Spoilers, AU, Pining, Minutemen and Brotherhood compliant, settlement attack, Starlight Drive-in, Not Beta Read, Pre-Rain", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor, Paladin Danse/Sole Survivor, Paladin Danse/ Nyx O'Grady-Callahan (oc)", "Series": "Seasons Of The Commonwealth", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games)", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Paladin Danse and Knight O’Grady-Callahan had spent the past five weeks traveling from settlement to settlement trying to unify the Commonwealth when a radio distress call crackled through Nyx’s Pip-Boy.While Danse understood why it was important to unite the settlements, he had begun to dislike the arduous task of walking from settlement to settlement with no guarantee of success, and often when successful cooperation and integration could be achieved it came with a very specific and usually dangerous price tag. The settlements always needed proof that they could rely on the support network the allied settlements provided. Which found Danse and his new knight in fire fights on a regular basis. He came to expect trouble with each new settlement they visited. Everyone always needed something, after all.And then that damned radio tower at the Castle had been built. So now, whenever a settlement had a problem, it was broadcasted across the entire Commonwealth. It was always calls for repairs, or crops to supplement an unsuccessful harvest, and sometimes it was a plea for entertainment of all things.This call, was different.Chhhck…” Anyone hear… Help!... Min… en… SOS… Raider band… At least 20… Oh god, help… Send help… turrets almost gone… Don’t break the line!... No, no, no!” the garbled plea was abruptly interrupted by minigun fire before silence fell, bringing a sense of dread to the Brotherhood team.Knight O’Grady-Callahan looked to me for guidance. I gave a nod in reply. Starlight Drive-in was only a few miles away. It looked like we’d be killing some Raiders tonight.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The fire fight was dwindling when Danse and Nyx rushed into the fray, ending the fight quickly with the extra fire support the two more skilled fighters provided. Judging by the bodies strewn around the road by the entrance to the settlement, the defense turrets did their jobs well until they were destroyed. A man in a ratty beige sport coat and holey black slacks limped over to the team once the all clear was called.“Oh! Great, you hear our call.” The settler exclaimed, relief clearly shown in his sooty features.“It’s ok now, tell us what happened.” Danse raised a hand in a soothing gesture. He spared his Knight a glance, noting the wide do-eyed expression with an internal groan.“They came out of nowhere. I recognize a few of the guys from Corvega, but since you Brotherhood guys wiped that stronghold out, the survivors have been on the move looking for a new camp. I guess liked ours. The turrets you installed did a good job of mowing most of those scumbags down, but they had a minigun and a sniper who was actually worth his salt.” The ma wiped at his brow with a rag, the stress of the attack showing in his posture.“Were there…” the Knight cleared her throat. “Were there any casualties?” Her voice sounded stronger, but her eyes still held a touch of fear in them.Danse had wondered and worried about the outcome of the skirmish himself, though admittedly he was more concerned about the Knight’s reaction to the inevitably bad news than anything else.He often wondered about the Knight’s origins. There was an overall softness about her that screamed Vault dweller, if the Pip-Boy that was in impossibly excellent condition wasn’t proof enough, but it was more than that. There were no signs of a life of any kind of labor, which Danse knew every Vault dweller did his or her share in maintaining a functioning vault. She didn’t have any callouses on her hands and, apart from the three long scratches of unknown origin running diagonally across the left side of her face that were still pink and healing, she appeared to be in excellent health and was well fed. Despite her overall softness, she was an excellent shot and had the mind of a skilled tactician. She also wondered about a myriad of mundane things the wastes offered, from wildlife to foodstuffs. The kept referring tatoes as “tomatoes” or Brahmin as “cows”. Some of the things she said were downright odd. Danse fared she was just too soft to be out in the wastes, but she stubbornly insisted that she patrol as a knight and help absolutely everyone she met as best she could. She was a walking contradiction.“We got lucky. We only lost three.” The settler said. “Smitty, the town drunk, walked right up to the gate and gave the gang a two-fingered salute. Dumbass. Then there was Jonesy, one of our new guards. He got tagged when the sniper was taking out the turrets: and Mary-Jo, who looks like she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and got a few strays from the minigun as she was tending to the mutfruit. Thank the gods the children were in the school house. Their teacher is a former Gunner and she’s always packing.”The Knight sighed audibly, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “Ok, tell us what needs to be done.”“We need to patch up the walls, repair the turrets and water purifiers, re-plant the high-yield crops, and fix the damage to the houses and vendor stands. A tall order, I know, but any help at all would be greatly appreciated.” The man sighed, shaking his head at the amount of damage done.“We’ll do what we can. Danse?” Nyx turned to her sponsor, a determined set to her jaw. “Can you handle fixing and possibly upgrading the turrets and purifiers? I’ll get started on the wall.”“Uh, sure, but wouldn’t you rather have me working on the wall?”“No. Defenses must be our first priority. Plus, I’m a fast spot welder and lighter than you. I can go on a hoist easier.” The trio walked into the settlement and inspected everything that needed repairing.Turning to the settler that greeted them, Nyx started. “Gather every able-bodied settler in the center of town and we’ll start assigning teams to work on the repairs. What’s your name by the way? You’ll be our liaison.“Oh! Of course, where are my manners. I’m Steve.” He stuck out his hand, which Danse and Nyx shook in turn.“Pleasure. My name is Paladin Danse, and this is Knight O’Grady-Callahan.”“You can call me Nyx.” She quickly interjected, not missing the look of annoyance that Danse cast her way. Her near insistence in being informal often made him feel like she didn’t take her rank seriously.Steve nodded and walked to an ancient looking bell and started ringing it. In between the surprisingly dulcet tones, Danse heard the unmistakable hiss of a Power Armor suit opening. He turned his head, eyebrows nearly to his hairline to see the Knight exiting. Danse only ever saw her out of some sort of Power armor once, when she was doing her initial physical with Cade. When she burst through the Cambridge blockade she was in an old T-45 suit that was surely held together by pure will alone. The only person he’d ever met that spent more time in a rig was Ingram, and she didn’t have a choice in the matter.Danse once asked Nyx why she was so attached to her suit, and she replied with a somewhat vague claim that the suit was the only place she felt safe before quickly changing the subject.When Nyx emerged from her T-60, she tied her crisp blue Vault suit around her waist to reveal a slightly damp black tank top. She re-tied her voluminous sanguine hair up into a high pony tail as she approached the gathering settlers.Danse cleared his throat to dispel his sudden dry mouth.“Ok,” she began, “I think the best course of action is to split up into teams. I’ll take volunteers to fix the walls. Paladin Danse will take volunteers to fix the turrets and purifiers.” He nodded in assent. “Steve, could you take the volunteers to work on the big crops?”“Yes, ma’am, I can.”“Ok, thank you all. As each group finishes, they can start patching up the houses and other structures. Let’s use as much daylight as possible and get this done as a team!” Nyx finished to rallying cheers.Danse was impressed, she was a natural leader. He could see her making Paladin in record time. He smiled at the thought. For all her reservations, she could really thrive in the Brotherhood in time.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Danse’s group finished their main tasks first, the repairs and upgrades surprisingly easy to complete. He felt with the quick progress they made that it would be beneficial to send a few people to help the other groups while the bulk repairs. A gentleman on the elderly side and a rather shy teenage girl were sent to help with the crops, while he and a man maybe a few years older than himself, whom could only be described as a human mountain, headed over to assist with the wall.Danse spotted Nyx on a rudimentary platform held aloft by a rickety pulley system, a welding mask in place and minor cuts and grime covering her arms from her gloves to the straps of her shirt. Her two supporters were a female ghoul and a tall but lanky young man. Both were showing signs of fatigue as they supported the ropes that kept Nyx in place.As she finished her weld, the ghoul alerted Nyx of the approach of Danse and mister Mountain.She lifted her mask to get a better look at her work before glancing down at the pair. “What’s up guys? Is something wrong?”“No problems to report. We finished our tasks and thought you could use an extra pair of hands.” Danse replied.“Oh, thank the stars! I’m not fit for this ma’am, I’m sorry. Can I swap with Leslie and hand you supplies or something instead?” the ghoul exclaimed, and Danse fought against the eyebrow raise that was threatening to occur at Mr. Mountain’s name.“Sure thing, Shayna. If it’s cool with the bosses that is?” Leslie replied in a deep but bemused timber.“I don’t see why not. What about you, Pat, do you want to tap out and help with the structural repairs?”“Yes, please. I’m sorry too, I underestimated the job.” He replied, relief clearly shown.That earned a light chuckle. “Okay, just put me on the ground and we’ll finish up with the guys. Oh, and are we still good to go later Shayna?”“Yes, ma’am, I’ll do my best to fix you up. I can’t promise miracles though.” This piqued Danse’s attention. Had there been any major accidents he was sure he’d have heard about them by now, but the health of those under his command was always a top priority.“That’s just fine, I’ve been considering a change anyway.” Nyx replied when she was firmly on the ground. “Ok, guys. We only have three big patches left to do. If we hustle we should be able to finish by nightfall.” By the time Nyx finished speaking, she was fully turned to Danse and Leslie, and the ‘damage’ was plain as day. There was a large patch of hair missing from the lower left side of her head. Danse and Leslie glanced at each other and did their best not to laugh, but it was in vain as a nearly simultaneous chuckle escaped the two men. Nyx’s deep scowl killed their jovial mood quickly. She sighed, “Let’s just finish up so I can get this mess fixed, ok?”“Yes ma’am.” The two replied, heads slightly lowered and looking the part of two scolded children quite well.With the switch up, the remaining wall repairs were made in nearly a third of the time, and by the time they finished the rest of the settlement was just about put back together. The damaged high-yield crops were harvested and re-planted, the homes totally fixed, most of the vendor stands were up and running, and a big meal was getting its final touches. The community bell rang out once again and the settlers gathered in a large pavilion in front of the ancient movie screen to accomidate meetings and meals. The wall trio took a wooden picnic table as Steve began to address his community.“This morning, we were attacked. The raider bastards paid for the attack, but so did we. We lost three today. Three people who touched our lives and our community in some form or another. But we didn’t let our tragedy bring us down!” murmurs of assent and even a few cheers drifted from the crowd. “We came together and took care of business. I couldn’t be more proud of this community, and may today be a reminder that nothing can beat us. Now raise a glass to the three we lost. Here’s to Smitty, here’s to Jonesy, and here’s to Mary-Jo. May they rest in peace.Here’s also to our new friends Paladin Danse of the Brotherhood of Steel and Knight Nyx O’Grady-Callahan of the Brotherhood and the Minutemen. We couldn’t have done it without you. You and your organizations will always be welcome here at Starlight, and if ever you need something we will be happy to help.” Claps and cheers rang out at the end of the speech, and the Brotherhood officers felt the settler’s gratitude as a physical sensation. “Now, ladies and gents, let’s eat!” Steve ended with a big smile.The pair was greeted with thank-yous and handshakes from every member of the settlement, and even a few hugs from the children, which to Nyx’s amusement made Danse clam up with a mixture of shock and panic coloring his features. The meal consisted of salvaged mutfruit, steamed corn, and a stew made from tatoes and Brahmin meat. After a month of MREs and canned food that expired hundreds of years ago, it was a very welcome change.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Nyx sat in an old vinyl chair in Shayna’s home, facing the open door to enjoy the light breeze. From this vantage, she could see Danse leaning against the shack enjoying a cigarette and observing his surroundings. Nyx was too busy earlier to really appreciate the fact that he was out of his power armor. It didn’t happen often, and each time felt like a precious gift, he truly was a magnificent man, and he filled out his flight suit perfectly. She could admit, to herself at least, that she was instantly attracted to him when they met at the old Cambridge Police station a couple of months ago.“I’m sorry, Nyx. I can see only one way to fix your hair.” Shayna said melancholily.“What? Can’t you save it?” Nyx’s nervous questions caught Danse’s attention. He stubbed his butt out on a slab of concrete before entering the shack.“I’m afraid the best I can do is shave it…” Shayna began with regret.“WHAT!? I need to go BALD!?!” Nyx began to panic, causing Danse and Shayna to recoil from her outburst.“NO! No, no, no, no, no. you don’t need to go bald. I promise. I’ll just need to shave the sides. You’ll still have hair at the top of your head.” At Nyx’s skeptical groan, Shayna continued. “It’ll look great on you, you definitely have the cheekbones to pull it off. Plus, you keep it in a ponytail and your hair won’t be so heavy and you’ll keep cool easier. It’s totally easy to manage. Trust me.”Nyx reluctantly agreed. “Oh, I guess. I can always grow it out if I don’t like it.”Shayna worked quickly, sectioning out the hair at the crown of Nyx’s head, trimming where needed before lathering her up and taking a well maintained straight razor to the damaged area and continuing around to the other side to even it out, having Danse hold the ponytail of hair to be saved out of the way.“There, was that so bad?”“I’ll let you know once I see it for myself.” Nyx replied, still weary.“I will admit, Knight, the ghoul did good. This style suits you quite well.” Danse added, and Nyx tried her damnedest to bide the color flooding her cheeks.Shayna came back to Nyx’s side with a small hand mirror, and Nyx had to admit she liked the look as well. “Shayna, I will give you props. I don’t mind this look at all, you were right. Thank you.” She finished with a smile, which Shayna returned.A knock interrupted the trio. “Excuse me, but we have cleaned up Smitty’s old shack for you two if you’d like to rest here tonight.”“Oh, thank you Steve.” Danse gave a nod to the settler. “Is that good for you, knight?”“That sounds wonderful, thank you.” Nyx gave Shayna a farewell hug before following the men out and to the opposite side of the settlement. The previous owner being the town drunk explained the relative isolation from the rest of the residences. The unobstructed view of the western sky, last visages of twilight rapidly fading to give way to a view of the Milky Way Nyx would’ve never seen if the world hadn’t ended, was a definite perk of the location.After a short argument about the sleeping arrangements and a quick flip of the sole mattress in the ne room shack, Nyx had settled onto the bed while Danse made himself comfortable on the wooden shack floor.The pair found sleep to be rather elusive after the eventful day they had, so Danse felt this to be a good opportunity to quell some of his curiosity about his knight. He decided on an easy, recent curiosity first.“So, what was making you so upset about your hair earlier, if you don’t mind my asking?”She sighed. It’s so stupid, really. It’s just, I got my hair done right before I went into the vault, and it’s all I had left of the life I used to know.”And just like that, another curiosity presented itself. “What do you mean, before you went into the vault?” Danse had never heard of a vault accepting new residents. Vault dwellers were notoriously wary of the surface. “You aren’t Vault born?”“Oh, right. You don’t know. Look, I’ve wanted to tell you, but I just didn’t know how to broach the subject. Vault 111s main function was to study the long-term effects and viability of cryogenic hibernation. I’ve been on Ice the past 210 years.” Nyx bit her lip, nervous of his reaction. She sat up.He took a good long moment to process this new information. He felt a strange sense of betrayal at this huge secret being kept from him, though he reasoned that he probably wouldn’t have an easy time bringing the subject up either. It also explained quite a bit about her, from her mannerism, to her constant curiosity, to her utter lack of survival skills before joining the Brotherhood. “So, you mean to say you’re… Pre-War? Before the bombs fell?” by this time, he was perched on his knees.“Danse, I watched the bomb hit south Boston.”Danse’s eyebrows nearly disappeared, his mouth agape. Nyx motioned for him to sit with her on the rickety bed, and after a moment of hesitation he took a seat at the foot, Nyx leaning on the headboard to face him. She took a calming breath, and then spilled her guts to him, telling her tale of woe and immense personal pain at the murder of her husband and subsequent kidnapping of her infant son, her emergence from her tomb, the juvenile Deathclaw attack that left her face scarred, her rescue of the surviving Minutemen, and her journey to Cambridge.“I’m deeply sorry, knight. Vault-Tech’s depravity knows no bounds. I’m gonna hep you find your son. That’s a promise.” He said with a tender conviction, hand gong to rest on her shoulder in a sign of support.“Thank you, Danse.” Nyx’s throat constricted at his declaration, making her voice a bit deeper. “And you can call me Nyx, you know. Maybe for special occasions or something.” She said with a half smirk and a chuckle, knowing he would resist. He was a stickler for rules and maintaining decorum.He surprised her, though. “Ok… Nyx.” He said it slowly, as if trying to learn the shape and sound of the individual letters. She nearly flushed with pleasure, the sound of her name in his voice an unexpected thrill. She knew her smile probably looked more deranged than happy, but she couldn’t help herself.This, she knew, was the start of a great friendship, and the weight of her secret no longer on her shoulders made her feel the most relaxed she’s been in over two centuries.
10237154	The Finest Hours	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Bernie Webber, Ray Sybert, Frank Fauteux, George 'Tiny' Myers", "Fandom": "The Finest Hours (2016)", "Language": "中文-普通话國語", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Art_y_an (orphan_account)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "5,486", "Additional Tags": "OOC, Sorry for Marian, AU-What if they're pilots, Songfic", "Relationship": "Ray Sybert/Bernard 'Bernie' Webber", "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 }	1簡單搭建的舞檯上坐著演奏木吉他的獨立音樂人，略沙啞的聲線與弦樂器純樸的音色交織成慵懶的氛圍，酒吧裡的熱絡交談也似乎隨之籠罩一圈如煙的曖昧，聽來不讓人那麼反感。這也正是他們現在所需要的。Bernard Webber捧著和酒保商量許久才拿到的一杯冷水，身為一名以遵守紀律出名的區域航線機師，他的堅持倒是無可厚非──儘管如果他那目前還困在模擬機訓練室的發小知道這回事，肯定會嘲解他的情趣堪比開車技巧，想當然耳，那並不是什麼讚美之詞。但他無力去阻止眼前試圖喝下Gins的Ray Sybert。縱使對方不吵不鬧、坐在隱密的角落像是這個城市的邊緣者般沉默，在長年相處下，他知道Ray喝多了。原本就不善言辭的藍色眼睛蒙上層灰，看來就像被積雨雲掩蓋的天空，唯有酒精入腹的灼熱感使眼尾薰出了點紅，將原先的陰鬱抹去了點稜角。看來就像是哭過了一般。艱難的啜了一口在這個季節顯得過於冰涼的開水，那種像要讓人摸清食道確切位置的寒意讓Bernie清醒了會兒。在昏黃的燈光下，他望著男人不掩憔悴的面容，終歸是無法好好說出在喉頭那句「你不能再喝下去了」。因為事實上，他同樣不安著。上週五George Myers──訓練課同期的夥伴常常都叫那大個子「Tiny」，也不知道出自於什麼心理──帶著一個剛過了轉機訓練的機師和十多年駕駛經驗，上了一架全貨機打算從紐約飛往內陸的集貨都市。那天天氣很好，平流層十分適合飛行，地面能見度極高，然而那架A330MRTT在啟航不到半小時就失事了。全機貨物到現在還在美東沿岸打撈著，至於屍首因為巨大的撞擊而下落不明、海難救助隊研判有極大可能隨著洋流漂到了南方。據目擊者所言，當時那架有著淺灰機身的巨大貨機展著像是老鷹翱翔般的機翼，中軸因重力失衡而翻轉了九十度，遠遠看來就像個向下墜的十字架。簡直就是殉道一般。 2Bernie本身也領有幾張不同機種的執照，但隨著MD-11的失事率頻傳，他早早便不太用上貨機的駕照。實際上，他也偏好客機多些，因為他一向尊崇飛航手冊上那些優良而標準的示範，而那對於無須顧慮乘客舒適度的貨機純屬浪費時間，在風雨交加的情況下更是如此。同樣身為機師，Bernie可以肯定在機身沉入海底前的最後一秒Myers都還在極力思考有什麼挽救方法。即使那時陪伴著Myers的唯有塔台的無線電、身側惶恐的副機長與近在眉睫的死亡。令Bernie真正感到遺憾的是，除了殉職者的親友之外，在這件事揭過之後，世上幾乎沒有什麼人會記得曾經有這樣兩位優秀的機師存在過──說不定，甚至連Myers的親友也不見得會清楚他「優秀」的程度究竟為何。運輸是個偉大的行業，但僅有少數人會記得這件事。因為旅客們搭上飛機為的是一場華麗的旅行或舒適順遂的外派工作，他們的著墨點、喜悅、記憶、感動和相機記憶體都將留待著陸之後的一切，極少對那些在駕駛艙中為他們作息日夜顛倒的工作者表現出謝意，就算真要為這段航程做出什麼評論，頂多也就是一些對於空服人員、飛機餐和免費電影的抱怨。就算是一個冰淇淋專賣店的工讀生也值得一句感謝，他們這些負擔著更多人的希望與生命的飛行者卻總是被漠視的一群。這邏輯乍看之下並不合理，卻時時刻刻都在發生。縈繞於心的抑鬱讓Bernie又喝下了一大口的水，雖然他感覺自己現在更需要站在蓮蓬頭下，任那些真正冷到骨子裡的水柱打散腦中揮之不去的陰霾。他不是不難過於Myers的死去，只是身而為人，在那樣不可控的情況下，他還是無法不生出「Thanks Lord it wasn't Ray」的想法。儘管這想法連他自己都厭惡不已，但是他無法克制。就像此刻，他望著Ray從眼神透出的、失去友人的疼痛與茫然，卻無法給予任何稱得上「溫暖」的安慰。就像他知道明天Ray和他自己也要像曾經的Myers坐上那個彼此熟悉不過的位置，承載著旅客的航向未知的命運。 3在將手裡的液體一飲而盡後，Ray將廣口杯抵著小指安靜地放回了吧檯。倒不是刻意為之，但他自成一派的風格總是無意識地將周遭和自己切割開來，不善於表述情感也常招惹誤會，就像紙上一個明顯的折痕；與之同時，他面對緊急處理的冷靜卻足以將所有不利之辭掃清，年紀輕輕成為長途主力客機的正機長也是在情理之內。酒勁上頭讓他的反應慢了幾拍──也可能只是一個推託的說法吧？──因是當他將視線落在邊上的那人時，他就挪不開眼了。那對天藍色的雙眼，就如坐在駕駛艙時、最喜歡的、專屬於他的那種風光明媚。舞檯上傳來纏綿的情歌，在曖昧的燈光下，那人總是梳理得井井有序的深色髮絲看來就像被撒上了亮粉般閃閃發亮，和Ray一樣骨節分明的青蔥手指拿著玻璃杯的姿態也被鍍上層夢幻的金色，男性胴體的線條分明卻沒來由地讓他聯想到那些被精心計量過的機體。人們習慣將船舶或者飛機視為女性的「She」，藉以描述它們優美的曲線與備受讚賞的載運能力，但是最是了解這些鋼鐵美人的Ray對此卻有著不同的想法。直觀而言，堅硬的合金外殼與那種勇敢中帶有魯莽的逆風而行都更像是一個「He」，至於柔軟的部分…Ray又深深望向那個自然而然散發著溫和氣質的人，對方似有所察的抬起頭來，碰上他的目光先是微微一怔，什麼也不問便報以一個足以點亮他的一生的笑顏。那是種可以將所有惡意弭平的，從骨子裡散發出來的溫柔。此生鮮少產生強烈慾望的Ray Sybert在一瞬間鮮明感知到擁有這個人的幸運，而他並不想要收手，就像十多歲的他初次握上操縱桿的那一刻。他是在一次飛安事件認識專職國內航線的Bernard Webber的。 0那回是從加拿大西岸啟航的南向航線，Ray離湊足晉升正機師的飛行時數就差了那麼一點。當時有意提升公司形象的航空公司，特意將上層甲板隔成政商名流的特等倉因而總共只載了四百餘人，底艙也裝載了價值少說幾千萬美金計的貨物，總的來說，也不負Boeing747在那個年代「空中女王」的美譽。那年太陽風暴正值高峰，機場停電了幾分鐘才靠著緊急電力恢復地勤作業，但要讓有著龐大資料庫的作業軟體立刻運作有一定程度的困難，遑論國際航線一旦延誤就將連帶拖累其他機場的既定行程，於是航空公司也只能心急火燎的派內勤人員計算起飛的安全重量。然而，長年來習慣倚賴電算工具的文書人員直到乘客全數登機了都沒能得出個答案，在躁動的旅客埋怨聲與緊湊的起飛排序的壓力下，已經被耽誤的航程只能照常升空──幸而並沒有超過起飛限制，飛機很快地攀升到了安全高度。直到機長和塔台聯繫完畢，準備進入離場區時，頂艙卻出了突發狀況。一名政要人士可能是因為不適應這種抗拒地心引力的離地過程，進而引起了急性心臟衰竭，呼吸急促的在座位上的口吐血沫、造成了其他乘客的慌亂。基於緊急醫療的需求，迫降是必要的手段，然而返航的時間不夠燃燒足夠的燃油以將飛機重量降到足夠安全落地的程度，因此在機長與各個美西機場聯繫的同時，Ray只能按飛航手冊的指示將機翼上的油一一卸到太平洋上。他們在剛過Vancouver上空時過了計算最大重量，Seattle機場的塔台也盡快騰出了一個跑道，於是機長與Ray按程序的減速、降落並放下起落架，不料在機輪與柏油地面接地不到一分鐘，主輪便生生被飛機的重量壓斷，整個機身都為此產生巨大的晃動，而被扯落的左右方起落架在無法自行減速的機體壓在下頭，就像兩把鋒利的短匕將底部一段機腹切了開來，裡頭的貨物賴以為倚靠的貨盤與軌道被扭曲得亂七八糟。最後以戰鬥聞名的747是堪堪靠著機體底座與跑道的摩擦力才停了下來，全員無人死亡，幾個在碰撞中有擦傷的旅客與那名病患一起被送到最近的幾家醫院，在入院觀察之後幸運地都沒有大礙。不過就算結果對生還者們是皆大歡喜，跑道被毀損的機場營運商以及國家運輸安全委員會可一點也高興不起來，來自Montreal的機長Mike和Ray在驚魂記後又不消停的被捲入了一連串的問審。兩人都很清楚起落架的問題絕非出在他們身上，但那些「請問兩位個別的家庭關係良好嗎？近來有沒有發生什麼煩心事？」、「在事故發生前一天，請問Captain有充足的睡眠嗎？」或「在事故發生的當下，Officer Sybert是怎麼肯定輸油作業已達落地標準的？」之類根本就是變相找碴的問句實在太具有攻擊性，就連Ray這種早就習慣被人疏離的性子也吃不消。儘管在事件發生沒多久，兩人和委員會便陸續收到了航空公司關於重量數據誤植的資料，種種跡象看來航空公司都要負上最大的責任。文件裡顯示計算人員在飛機起飛後半小時才發現雖然乘客未達上限，但頭等艙裡數位準備旅居美國的乘客運載超額的行李，加上原本預計在本行次搭載的貨量，便已經超過了最大酬載重量；此外，因為早先收到了原目的地的天氣資訊，預計到達時會面臨天氣不佳的狀況，故而多準備了用油以利屆時盤旋等待登陸的作業順利，孰知出了這等糟心事，美意反而造成災難。在審判結果出爐之前，兩位機師按照慣例不得從事相關的飛航行為，因此Ray意外的得到了一段對於他這種職業的人算起來不短的假期。這令將大半時間獻給飛機的他分外不適應，而在Seattle出勤的同袍──老實說，Frank的年紀和Ray真差上不少，但前者三十歲才轉職並和他參加了同一期的訓練，所以這麼稱呼應該也沒什麼錯──得獲消息後特地來見了他一面，見他好似還未從被顛三倒四的生理時鐘回復過來的蒼白面色，只能無奈叨唸了幾句便回機場上工。而日復一日被逼迫說話的Ray無疑是羨慕Frank的。 0.5當Frank再來時，除了CaliDouble外還帶了另外一名和Ray年紀相仿──其實是更年輕，但Frank堅持這麼說，好像把兩人的年紀拉近了，就沒有人會注意到他和兩個青年巨大的年齡差──的年輕機師，只是因為對方跑的是短程的國內航線，所以早他一步已經在年前轉正。似乎是才下崗就被拉來「情感交流」的青年身上還是一襲筆挺的機長裝，西裝外套的袖口逢著四條清晰的橫杠，就像沿著山脊鋪下來的雪脈，白種人的優勢在深色衣服的襯托下顯得更加出挑，清俊面容噙著的靦腆笑意讓人容易心生好感。「Bernard Webber, Bernie.」在那人向他伸出手時，Ray就發現了，當那雙藍得驚人的眼睛注視著你時，你會產生擁有了全世界的錯覺。這可不妙。他在心理嘟噥著，眼神有些失焦的望著還殘留著對方溫度的掌心，連邊上Frank碎念著他沒有向人家自我介紹的嘮叨也沒聽見。兩個個性迥然不同的青年因為對飛機的熱愛而異常合拍，在暢聊飛行過程中，甚至意外的發現Bernie上一回的航程便是為了疏散一部份因為747事故而滯留於Seattle的乘客。對此Ray不禁有些不自在，畢竟這件案子還沒了結，雖然知情者都明白這並不是機師的問題，但飛機在他們手中毀了是事實…「That's regulation, you know. 而且，當時你也飛機上，你們已經做了最好的決定，乘客們會知道的。」那道聲線就像捧著機身的溫和氣流，讓他心裡一緊，「We can't leave them out there alone. That plane won't last. We all live, or we all die.」Ray從未那麼失措過。就算曾在暴雨或颶風中九死一生，他也不知道如何制止這就像失控的引擎般快速躍動的心跳。在委員會終審確定Captain Mike和Ray並沒有肇責後，Ray一度以為自己會很快回歸漂泊的飛行生涯，孰知在升等的這件事就碰上了問題，在航程沒有著落的情況下，他只能繼續被滯留於美西等待公司發落。至於為什麼產生問題，起因仍是那個鬧得沸沸揚揚的747事件，儘管危機處理的能力顯著，但原定來回共十一個小時的航程被迫不到兩個小時結束，在訓練飛行時數上的認證立刻產生了問題，又一般機師訓練的排程由公司負責，本來按排程湊足了的時間不夠也不可能馬上就有空缺能讓他填上，但這一落又是幾個月，那這段期間的費用該由誰給付？為此航空公司不得不又要另外開會審議，討論這位年輕人是否能成為破格升等的第一人。在這人生地不熟的都市，繼飛長程航線一年有九個月消失的Frank之後，Ray唯一能說上話的就只有同樣是飛機癡的Bernie了。面部表現比一般人少很多的Ray並沒有被發現那些隱密的心緒，他很守本分的堅守著「朋友」的位置，沒有奢求、沒有期待，直到Bernie被論及婚嫁的女朋友甩了。女孩子似乎對Bernie隔三差五就失去蹤跡的工作一直都頗有微詞，沒有安全感一向是戀愛中最忌諱的事，更不用說婚姻。「有份高收入的工作卻又要時時刻刻能陪在她身邊，超人才能辦得到吧？」可惜她不叫作Lois Lane。試圖以幽默化解卻擺脫不了傷感，藍眼睛在流轉的燈下看來彷彿流動的液體，Ray望著就算在這個時刻也堅持不喝酒的青年，微蹙眉頭不發一語。「我好像很難讓她明白，我並沒有辦法像那些菁英坐在銀行玻璃窗之後的辦公室決定要不要讓人貸款，或者指揮著人做這個做那個否則就滾回去吃自己，像自己能主宰別人的人生似的…」幾乎不可聞的輕嘆口氣，Bernie難掩疲憊的將手扶在額前喃喃自語：「我只是個想要做自己想做的事的、平凡人啊。」那聲音很輕，注視著桌上的汙點的Ray卻感覺那好像一道在他耳邊盛放的煙花。在工作之外，他難得的正眼對上話語者，光照在俊秀的面容上同樣映出了清晰的瞳色。那種淡淡的藍綠色有如湖泊般安靜，有如秋葉般靜美，像是蘊藏著說不盡的愛意。 I'm not looking for some superhero or some fairytale bliss. Just something I can turn to somebody I can kiss. I want something just like this. 我並不是要找那些超級英雄，或是有著童話命運般的人。只要一個能夠依賴的他、一個我能親吻的人。那才是我一直在尋找的人。 4走出了酒吧，他們在通往機場飯店的街上散步閒聊，晚風和煦的打散了兩人身上沾染的混濁氣味，月光帶著涼意，像是他們輕輕相觸的指尖。Ray從來沒有明白過，一向被形容成「難相處」、「根本不知道在想什麼」的他能夠被接受，趁著酒意帶來的微妙衝動，他打破了沉默：「I just didn't know if you'd be attracted to me.」「You're exactly how I pictured you.」個性上。在相處時總維持著三分笑意的Bernie很快地接過了話荏。知道自己看起來是什麼德性，Ray可不認為有人能從他的臉看出個所以然，又陷入了無語。「Better.」誤解了對方意思，青年在稍加思索後又補上了一句，就是不知道眼睛像盯著深淵般注視著遠方的他有沒有聽清。經過了咖啡廳，裏頭飄逸出的香氣將這樣的寧靜裝飾得就像某個閒適的夏日午後，白色的房子、打理漂亮的庭院和兩張舒適的躺椅。儘管不知道那會發生在多久之後的未來，但此刻光是一同漫步，就足以讓他倆的心靈被填滿。「Where'd you wanna go?」躊躇許久，Bernie終究問了出口，無關對於死亡的恐懼，無關對逝去之人的愴然。「How much you wanna risk?」不在乎他人豐功偉業或者奇蹟，Bernie Webber只在意著眼前這個人。路燈下那張總帶著鬱鬱之色的俊臉看來蒼白了點，但是那雙眼睛不會騙人，那雙總是握著推桿掌握幾百人生命的手傳遞而來的溫度也不會。 Only for something I can turn to somebody I can miss. I want something just like this. 只為一個可以傾訴的對象，一個能讓我念念不忘的人。我要的就是像你這般的人。 Fin.注解A330是一系列由空中巴士生產的中長途廣體客機，目前型號有五種，而A330MRTT和A330-200F以及未來發展的新款Beluga(大白鯨貨機)為全貨機。MD-11是由麥道公司研發的機型，以尾翼上的第三個引擎為象徵，而其自1993年到2016年間的失事事件高達十件，因而此機種安全係數備受質疑。Boeing747是全世界首款生產出的廣體民航機，由美國波音民航機集團製造；又稱為「巨無霸客機 (Jumbo Jet) 」，機首一端的雙層設計，是世界上最易識別的飛機之一。離場管制指引飛機在起飛後進入特定路線，所以飛機離地後塔台就會把飛機交給離場台，而離場台也會因應實際情況指示飛機爬升或者不需依特定航路飛航，改由跟從空管員的指示航行。國家運輸安全委員會(NTSB)是一獨立的美國政府調查機構，成立於1967年，負責民用運輸事故調查。酬載重量指可以收取費用所承載的旅客、郵件、貨物等之重量，是航空公司收益的主要來源。*CaliBurger是Seattle一間漢堡連鎖店，和著名漢堡店In-N-Out風格類似。
10271783	Entwined	{ "Archive Warning": null, "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Lucifer (Nick), Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Clara Frye (OFC)", "Fandom": "Supernatural", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by TheBabblingWriter", "chapters": "2/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "2,450", "Additional Tags": "not entirely canon compliant, Soulmates, S5 based", "Relationship": "Lucifer/Original Female Character(s)", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "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 }	Clara looked at the flames lighting up the night sky as they rose from the house she’d barely escaped. Sam and Dean Winchester stood next to her, the elder Winchester swore, out of breath whilst Sam gripped his bicep, blood pooling betwixt his fingers. "You three look toasty," a sudden voice startled them. Leaning against the silky black paint of the impala, Lucifer smirked at the trio. Clara eyed the man and something in her gut told her that this was Lucifer, her thoughts being confirmed by the looks on Sam and Dean’s face. Having never met the fallen angel, she wasn't sure what to expect. Her heartbeat increased and she felt a coil tightening in her stomach. Whether it was terror or anticipation, she couldn't tell. His eyes glanced over the three of them, landing on her where they remained. “What the hell do you want, Lucifer?” Dean ground out, an angel blade gripped tightly in his hand. Lucifer sighed and gave the elder Winchester a faux look of disappointment. With a click of his fingers, the silver angel blade was nowhere to be seen. “No need to be so hostile, I'm simply here to meet your lovely companion,” he turned his gaze to Clara. The brothers were slack jawed, no doubt, however Clara couldn't seem to tear her eyes from the deep pools of cerulean blue. She understood that they belonged to his vessel, but the spark of mischief and glimmer of danger residing in his eyes was so… Lucifer. “Why?” the first word she’d spoken in this whole exchange. “Why would you want to meet me?” Lucifer tensed, almost unnoticeably if she hadn't been paying so much attention to him. He shifted against the impala, ignoring the glare that Dean was sending his way. “The Winchester’s have a habit of attracting death to the people around them. I'm simply curious to see if you're brave or just an idiot,” his tone was monotonous and the expression on his face read pure boredom. Clara refused to look away from him as she contemplated his words. “They're my friends. My family. I’d be happy to die for them,” her voice and response were both firm and mentally she applauded her ability to remain calm in the face of Satan. His eyes turned cold, the glimmer of danger more prominent and outlined with a fire. Despite the inferno behind them, the air seemed to turn icy. “An idiot then,” was all Lucifer said before forcing a wide smile at the three of them and disappearing, leaving behind only the faint flutter of wings. “What a dick,” Dean mumbled, checking Baby over. Sam placed a gentle albeit bloody hand on Clara’s shoulder and his brown eyes held concern. “Are you okay?” Clara took a deep breath and nodded before looking at the wound on his upper arm. She scrunched her nose and pushed him softly towards the car. “Let's get you stitched up,” She waved Dean away from the trunk and placed her weapons down, removed the shotgun from its position as a brace and closed the trunk. A small shiver trickled down her spine and her breath caught at the now familiar voice echoing in her head. Sam’s voice pulled her from her thoughts and she smiled, getting into the backseat and settling in for the ride back to the motel. “I’ll see you soon.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “It’s okay, Dean. I can handle a few vamps on my own.” “I’m an idiot,” Clara muttered to herself, watching the blood drip from her head into a slowly gathering puddle at her feet.“I, am a goddamn idiot.”Everything had gone perfectly. She’d done some research, investigated a little, located the nest and geared up. She’d followed the unofficial guide to hunting.Getting into the nest had been the easy part, followed by taking down the eight vamps residing within. However, as she stood there, watching the flames lick over the headless bodies, she’d completely missed the shadow looming behind her.Of course she’d lacked the vital information that the nest had been split with an additional eight or nine vamps travelling further away to add some new members to the family.Next thing she knew, she woke up tied to a chair with a bleeding face, which considering her captors were blood drinkers, was a worst case scenario.Clara took a moment and then raised her head, wincing slightly. The room she was currently trapped in was surprisingly not as dusty as she expected, in fact it was clean of dust but almost completely bereft of furniture; despite that it still looked like one of those rooms you just know you’re going to die in.Her weapons had been removed from her person and Clara felt the rope around her wrists biting into her skin. The vamps had obviously tied her tighter than their usual meals because she was a hunter. Realising there was no way for her to get out she prayed quickly to Castiel.Seconds past and the angel had yet to appear.“Okay,” Clara muttered forcing away the brief panic. “Okay, think,” she told herself sternly.She strained her ears, listening for any sound that would tell her anything about her captors. Nothing moved, she couldn't even hear the wind.A frustrated sigh slipped past her lips and clenched her jaw before slowly moving her wrists against each other in an attempt to loosen the ropes. Her wrists burned and despite everything, her eyes began to tear up.Suddenly the silence was ruptured and pounding footsteps began to enclose on her. The door was thrown open and she looked into the eyes of the vampire as his face twisted into a snarl.“Little hunter, all alone and defenceless,” he mocked her. The look in his eyes was a little more than the usual hatred she saw in her enemy's eyes.Clara swallowed and forced a grin. “I guess you saw my artwork downstairs,” she started, internally screaming at herself for mouthing off when she was indeed alone and defenceless, “What a masterpiece, don’t you think?”She must’ve struck a nerve because the vamp approached her swiftly and swung his fist into her face with reckless abandon and unimaginable strength. The sharp pain of the blow quickly descended into sharp pricks of agony as the bone cracked under the force.Clara bit into her lip to silence the agonising cry threatening to come out. She could only imagine the state of her face by now as rivulets of blood began to flow down her chin from her mutilated lip.“Not an art lover then?” she choked out, quickly regretting it as the vamps large hands wrapped around her throat and began to choke the life out of her. Lucifer was unsure why he kept tabs on the girl, something about her seemed to call out to him and he hated it. Soon after their first meeting, Castiel had warded her ribs and whilst he could still feel her presence on the earth, he was unable to pinpoint her exact location; and for some reason, it irritated his very being. It almost felt like his whole grace was vibrating the longer he was unaware of her location and well-being. Eventually, it became too much of an annoyance and he sent some demons to find and follow her.He sat on a bench, watching his father’s creations go about their unimportant lives when a demon appeared close by. Lucifer rolled his eyes as the human’s continued on, not noticing the very obvious sudden appearance of the man.The demon walked to Lucifer and kept his gaze on the ground as he opened his mouth to relay information to his master.“Sir, it’s the hunter girl,” he mentioned, “She walked into a vampire nest, she killed all of them.”Lucifer turned his eyes to demon and sighed.“How extraordinary. Do you have anything useful to tell me?” He asked, his tone bored and impatient.“Well, you asked to be informed if anything critical happened and, well-” the demon stammered, his mouth opening and closing trying to form sentences in his nervous state. Lucifer’s eyes flickered red. “If you don’t spit it out in the next 10 seconds, I’ll paint this street with your insides,” he threatened. “More vampires arrived and she hasn’t come out of the house,” the demon blurted out.Lucifer’s temper flared and he stood. “Where?” he growled out.The demon scrambled to tell him the address and then Lucifer raised a hand and clicked his fingers. Blood and guts splattered across the pavement and passersby began screaming at the empty spot where the man had once stood. Screaming sounded from the floor below and the vamp managed to lift Clara's choking form and the chair, throwing her into the wall. The chair she was attached to smashed to pieces and fell to the ground, her body landing immediately after.The vamp’s face twisted into a sick grin and he licked his lips as he slowly stalked towards her.“I’m going to drink you dry, very slowly.” Clara’s entire body ached as she tried to back up from the vampire’s approaching figure. The wall behind her stopped her escape. Pricks of light were visible through the cracked floorboards beneath her and her heart leapt. That sort of light only came from an angel smiting someone. ‘Castiel,’ she thought with joy; all she had to do was survive until they found her. The light had briefly distracted the vamp and quickly she pulled her tied hands down the back of her legs and forced her feet through the gap. Thinking quickly, she grabbed the nearest possible weapon. With the broken chair leg in hand, she forced herself to leap at the bloodsucker. Her surprise gave an advantage and the vamp fell backwards onto the ground.Clara brought the chair leg hard and fast against his temple, disorienting him. As he weakly scrambled to get her off him, she slammed the wood down onto his throat, the resounding snap was a relieving sound. The vampire tried desperately to claw at his throat but she brought the wood down again and again; adrenaline fuelling her blood lust as the skin began to break and flesh began to give way to the rough beating. The blood pumping in her ears made her oblivious to the door slamming open.When the chair leg snapped further beneath her hands, she threw it to the side and pushed her fingers into the hair of the vamp, placed her knee firmly into his chest and tugged hard, the ripping of his head detaching from his bed brought her back to reality.Clara dropped the head to the ground with a thud, her hands and arms were covered in blood. Clapping interrupted any thoughts she had and with adrenaline still lacing her veins, she forced herself to her feet and into a fighting stance as though it was second nature.“There's more to you than I thought,” Lucifer’s voice penetrated the tense air. Clara stood in shock and confusion. A single snap echoed through the room and her previously tied hands fell to her sides, the rope disappearing entirely. The fallen angel leant against the door frame, surveying the scene with impressed eyes. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have said he looked almost in awe. He had one arm crossing his chest and the other was upright, allowing him to press the pad of his forefinger against his chin, almost in a thoughtful pose.The skin on his right temple seemed to be peeling slightly and Clara assumed this was a consequence of his vessel not being able to hold him properly.“Where are the Winchesters? What did you do to them?” she asked, trying to sound stronger than she felt. Lucifer’s brow creased in confusion.“What makes you think I did anything to them?”Clara glared at him. “I saw the light, someone was smiting the vampires and if Castiel is here then the Winchesters are here.”Lucifer scoffed and pushed away from the door frame. “Neither the Winchesters or my little brother are anywhere near here.” “ You killed the vampires?” her voice was quieter now, softer and raspier in the aftermath of her strangulation. “Is that such a surprise?” Lucifer asked, walking closer to her, rolling his eyes when she backed away.She narrowed her eyes at the oncoming figure. “I’m just supposed to believe you did that out of the goodness of your own heart? No, thanks. I’m not going to help you convince Sam to become your vessel,” her heart was beating fast, Lucifer could hear it as he came closer, stepping over the body on the floor and placing two fingers on her forehead.Clara awaited her imminent death but instead of pain, a warm tingling feeling overcame her, rolling over her and taking the pain away.“What did you do?” she asked as he placed his hand back at his side.“I healed you,” he replied sharply, turning away and beginning to walk out of the room. Clara stood stock still, confused and surprised and becoming even more confused by the second. Her throat no longer hurt and as she brought her hands up to feel for the blood on her face, her wrists were no longer raw and bleeding.She looked up and noticing his figure leaving the room, she followed quickly after him.Lucifer walked downstairs, still contemplating the many thoughts on why he had healed the huntress and why exactly his grace seemed to recognise her. He already knew what it was, there was nothing else that it could be, but denying it seemed to be the best way to go about this until he was sure. If it came down to it, he’d have to kill her, she would become a distraction if his suspicions were correct.Clara remained quiet as she picked up her scattered belongings that the vampires had obviously pillaged. She had many questions, but nothing seemed to come out when she opened her mouth to ask. As she made for the front door, she realised that the archangel wasn’t following her.She turned and was surprised to find him already staring at her with dangerous eyes.“Come here,” his tone was resolute as he motioned her forward with his finger. Her legs seemed to have a mind of their own as they carried her towards him.He placed a finger on her forehead once more and there was a sudden flash of heat that made her feel as though she was burning.Then he was gone. Nothing but the brief fluttering of wings left behind.
10220540	Polvo de Estrellas	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Cassian Andor, Jyn Erso, K-2SO (Star Wars), Bodhi Rook, Chirrut Îmwe, Baze Malbus", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by obilupin", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-11T00:00:00", "words": "640", "Additional Tags": "Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Foreign Language, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Romance", "Relationship": "Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - 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 }	oOoOoOo “Goodnight, Polvo de Estrellas,” Cassian says giving Jyn a small smile.It has been nearly a year since Rogue One had stolen the Death Star plans from Scariff. Miraculously the few friends Jyn had made leading up to the battle survived. Many others did not.Bodhi Rook was now officially part of the Rebellion. He’d been unsure of his welcome because of his past with the Empire, but the pilots and their mechanics had accepted him into their group once Bodhi had shown he really did know his stuff.Chirrut and Baze’s involvement was still in the unofficial category. They came and went as they pleased. The Alliance had even moved to a new base during one of their longer personal crusades. The two guardians had still found themselves to the new location. It drove General Draven and the security personnel mad trying to figure out how they’d done it, positive there must be a security leak. Chirrut’s, “Our path in the Force was clear,” was not looked upon as an acceptable explanation. Jyn would have enjoyed Draven’s frustration with Chirrut if the blind man wasn’t so equal opportunistic with the inexplicable all-knowing wisdom he used to amuse himself.It had taken Jyn several months to bring herself to formally join the Rebel Alliance. Cause mayhem for the Empire? She could do that. Get done what needed to be done? She could do that, too. Follow orders, especially coming from someone like Draven? She hadn’t been so sure about that one. Still wasn’t, but she’d managed to keep herself (mostly) out of trouble so far.Cassian was, of course, back to his own duties. Jyn had worked with him (and the replaced by memory backup K-2SO) here and there as she sorted out her place within the Rebellion. She enjoyed her time with the captain on missions or in their scant free time much more than she was willing to admit except for one little thing.Cassian has often taken up calling her Polvo de Estrellas when they are alone. Jyn has no idea what it means. When she asks he just gives her that small teasing half-smirk of his that makes her heart flutter. She tells herself it’s because she is annoyed with him. She doesn’t like it that he calls her something she doesn’t understand. No matter how lovely it sounds in his voice.Jyn is ashamed to admit it takes her months after this began to realize she can just ask one of the protocol droids to translate. Said droid goes on for several minutes about the phrase having a meaning in several languages, but she knows that the Festian translation is the correct one as soon as she hears it.Tonight when Cassian calls Jyn Polvo de Estrellas he is surprised, but not displeased, to find the fiery brunette and himself sharing their first kiss.“You can call me Stardust anytime you like,” she whispers when their lips part.“If I get a response like this every time, I may never say anything else again, Polvo de Estrellas,” he purrs, causing a shiver of delight to run up her spine right before they shared their second kiss, then third, fourth, fifth.Jyn is almost, but not quite, sucking his bottom lip between her own as she draws back from the caress. “I’m sure you will find other things to say that will get you even greater rewards,” she says.“Ay Dios!” he murmurs (honestly more to himself than to her). This time it is he who initiates the press of their lips. He can feel her smile.Cassian loses count somewhere after the tenth kiss she gifts to him. That is what each is to him - a gift. And though he could no longer keep track of the number, he treasures every single one. oOoOoOo
10270355	Helpless	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Multi", "Characters": "Eizen (Tales of Series), Zaveid (Tales of Series), Theodora (Tales of Berseria), Edna (Tales of Zestiria), Rokurou Rangetsu", "Fandom": "Tales of Berseria", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by vesperify", "chapters": "3/3", "completed": "2017-03-14", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "10,144", "Additional Tags": "Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Slow Burn, hand holding, Amusement Parks, Letters, Break Up, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Eizen/Zaveid, Zaveid/Theodora", "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 }	Eizen took a sip of champagne, Eleanor’s voice filtering in and out of his focus. The lights were a bit too bright in the ballroom, the chatter a bit too loud. Velvet and Eleanor were arguing about something or another, their voices adopting a bit more heat with each barb exchanged. He could barely follow their argument anymore - it had something to do with Laphicet, as per usual, but he couldn’t be bothered to follow beyond that.He could have been at home, enjoying a book, instead of standing in a stifling, stuffy room filled with strangers clamouring to boost their businesses.Or find their soulmate, but that was a different point entirely.The chances of finding one’s soulmate were so infinitely small that Eizen didn’t see the point of even trying. Only a couple hundred people ever found their soulmates, their perfect match, and most people were perfectly happy settling with someone who wasn’t their so-called “true love.” The whole concept was enough to make him scoff. He couldn’t stand the thought of his fate being chosen for him - he’d rather choose his own life, his own path, to find someone to love by his own choice.Not that he was particularly looking, either.Eizen looked down to his little sister, who was standing by his side. She has the same neutral expression on her face that he had, betraying nothing, though he could tell that she was just as bored as he was. He opened his mouth, about to ask whether she wanted to share a dance when she suddenly turned sharply, eyes fixated on something in the distance. Eizen raised an eyebrow, shifting his gaze to follow hers. And there, in the distance, was a silver-haired man chattering idly with a beautiful lady.Eizen growled. His grip tightened on the champagne flute until there was an audible crack as the glass started to collapse in his hand.“Whoa, Eizen buddy, what’s going on with you?” He could distantly feel Rokurou prying the glass out of his hand. “Earth to Eizen? You alive there?”Eizen emitted a low growl, ignoring his friend. “Edna. Don’t even think about it.”She turned to look at him and raised a single eyebrow. He gazed down at her sternly, though he knew it had little to no effect on her. She was old enough to take of herself, this he knew. But he was her big brother, the only family she had, and so he couldn’t help the stab of fear, the worry that the man might be her soulmate, of all people. Of course, she deserved the best, and to live the happiest life anyone could live, but no one would ever be good enough for his little sister.He wasn’t going to let her fall into the arms of some man twice her age, either.After a moment, Edna shrugged and then started walking towards the stranger. Eizen was about to follow when Rokurou grabbed his arm.“C’mon, Edna can take care of herself. Don’t get so overprotective.”“She’s my little sister. I’m not just going to stand by while some guy comes and sweeps her off her feet!” He roughly shook Rokurou’s arms off and turned to see Edna dragging the stranger towards them. Eizen fixed the best glare he could manage, ready to stare down the man his sister seemed attached to.But when he’d looked into orange eyes, it was like he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning.He could hear his heart fluttering in his chest, pounding just a little bit faster. The room suddenly felt warmer, sweat building up under his shirt, in his palms, on his neck. When did it get so damn hot, anyways? The orchestra was quickly drowned out by the pounding of his heart, (‘ba-dump, ba-dump’, echoing in his ears), and he couldn’t look away. He was falling, drowning, a fire started in his heart, spreading, consuming him-“Eizen? You’re shaking, is something wrong-”He snapped his head to Rokurou, shouting “No!” at his friend, eyes wide. Rokurou immediately stepped back, arms raised in a placating manner.“Hey, calm down, I’m sorry?”Eizen took a deep breath. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”He could hear the slight tremor in his own voice, the tiniest of trempling in his normally impeccable composure. Judging by the way Rokurou raised an eyebrow, his friend had heard it too. He clicked his tongue and turned away, only to find the stranger and his sister right in front of him.The stranger, who looked just as wide-eyed as he.They stood in front of one another, blue eyes staring into orange, neither blinking nor moving. Eizen could barely even breathe. He felt nervous, of all things, his stomach twisting and his body uncomfortably warm. God, it was hot.And the stranger was beautiful, but that was a different matter entirely.Eizen could barely think, couldn’t register anyone around him. All he could see were bright eyes, just as disbelieving as he was. Seconds passed, minutes passed, a century could have passed and Eizen doubted he would have been able to tell. His head was deadly empty, all thoughts halted, paused, before he finally remembered his own name.“Eizen.”“W-what?” The stranger seemed to jolt back to his sense, blinking rapidly.“My name. It’s Eizen.”“O-oh.” The man seemed to take a moment to collect himself. “Zaveid. I’m Zaveid.”Eizen nodded once, then held out a hand. After a slight hesitation, the man (‘Zaveid’, like breeze over the ocean waters-) took his hand, and they shared a firm shake. Distantly, he could hear Edna scoff something that suspiciously sounded like ‘idiots’, but by the time he’d realized she’d gone, he and Zaveid were discussing the finer points of wine.Before he knew it, three months had passed. Zaveid had exchange letters with him, the papers filtering between them every other day. Sure, they’d exchanged phone numbers, but there was something a little more exciting, a little more worthwhile, by exchanging letters. There never seemed to be a shortage of topics either, their conversations flowing from alcohol, to ruins, to just everyday things in their lives.Eizen’s lip quirked upwards as he read another line, drinking in every word that Zaveid had painstakingly written.‘Arwell was trying to flirt today. He’s a baby! He’s only, like, 8 or so! And he was trying to pull my moves on the ladies. Thankfully, the nurse just patted him on the head and told me he’d be such a heartbreaker when he’s older. I’m not sure if that’s something to look forward to. If he’s anything like me…’ Eizen let out a little laugh as he read the letter. Somehow, these little glimpses into the life of a man he’d only ever met once were all he needed to make his day just that much brighter.(And if his heart started to race a little faster, well, no one was going to know.)There was a pot in his room.A pot.Eizen could help the swell of affection that rose in his chest as he clutched the letter in his hands.‘Saw this at an auction. Apparently, it was from some ruin or another? Whatever. Just thought it’d be something a nerd like you would like.’There was a box on his desk, filled to the brim with letters.Eight months had passed.He couldn’t force himself to throw away a single one.(Somehow, he’d fallen in love.)The tension was so thick, it could be cut with a knife.Zaveid let out an awkward laugh, every muscle in his body practically screaming his discomfort. He was clutching the knife in his hand a little too tightly, voice a little too loud. Eizen had no doubt his sister could see just how uncomfortable the silver-haired man was.He watched as Zaveid picked up his glass and chug what juice was left in it, barely stopping before the entire glass was empty. Then he started choking, coughing and sputtering as he tried to expel the liquids from his lungs.Eizen sighed and shook his head, but nonetheless made his way around the table to where his friend sat. “You’re such an idiot.” He smacked his friend’s back a couple times until the silver-haired man was finally able to breathe again.“Thanks, Eizen.”Eizen shrugged, a retort ready to be shot at his friend when a third voice cut between them.“God, just how thick are you two?” Eizen gaze snapped up to where his sister was standing, arms crossed over her chest. “How can you both not realize?”“Realize what?” Eizen raised an eyebrow at his sister, wondering just what she was going on about.“Realize that you’re soulmates.”Time seemed to freeze.Eizen ripped his hand away from where it had been resting on Zaveid’s back, while the other simply stared at Edna, mouth hanging open.“Soulmates? What the Hell are you talking about?” Eizen’s voice was sharper than he’d intended (he never snapped at his sister, never, but this was an exception because Zaveid couldn’t be his- even in his mind, he choked on the word). “Where would you get that idea?”“Ugh, boys are so stupid.” Edna was tapping a finger impatiently against her arm, her face twisted into a frown. “How could you two not realize it the moment you met? You both had the dumbest look on your faces, like you’d seen the sun for the first time or something sappy like that.”Eizen shook his head once, stepping towards his sister. “That’s a ridiculous notion-”“Really?” Edna narrowed her eyes at her brother. After a moment, she tilted her head towards Zaveid, a challenging look adorning her face. “Prove it. Show him the mark.”Eizen hesitated, considering. It hadn’t even occurred to him that they could have been fated; he never really believed he’d find his soulmate, not with the terrible luck he’d had throughout his life. He hadn’t wanted to meet his soulmate, couldn’t have even imagined that it’d be Zaveid, of all people.But how could he have missed it?The way he felt when they’d met, the burning that had consumed him, filling his veins with molten fire. Meeting Zaveid had been like waking up from a dull dream, where every hazy detail was suddenly oversaturated and sharpened. It was like breathing in fresh air for the first time after suffocating, like seeing the sky after a life of living in the darkness, like a blossoming flower in winter. It was like feeling so completely and utterly helpless-Eizen suddenly felt sick.He couldn’t even control his own feelings, the very fundamentals of his being-(But, he’d fallen in love anyways, hadn’t he?)He backed away from Zaveid (who still sat, stock still, with horror quickly filling his eyes), spiraling to the ground as he tripped over his own feet.“Nii-chan-”“Edna, please give us a moment.” He voice wavered as he spoke, the words said so quietly and quickly, he wondered if Edna even heard them at all. His eyes were glued onto the still figure in front of him. He could hear his sister stepping away, leaving the two men alone in the kitchen.Zaveid still hadn’t moved, probably hadn’t even blinked. Distantly, Eizen wondered if he’d just stopped breathing. He chewed on his bottom lip, looking down at his right hand, where his mark was itching, hidden by a thing scrap of fabric. He shook his head to clear it, then slowly slid the glove off his hand.“Zaveid?” He spoke quietly, voice as soft as he could make it. Still, the other man jolted, as though a bucket of water had been dumped over his head. Eizen stepped towards his friend, hesitantly showing the other man the back of his hand.Zaveid stared down at the mark etched into Eizen’s skin, his eyes widening even further. His gaze was glued to Eizen’s hand, his body starting to shake. Eizen hesitated, unsure of what to do, but knowing the truth, without words, had been revealed.Zaveid was his soulmate.His perfect match.God, he hated how that sounded.(But that was a lie.)“Zaveid, we don’t have to do anything about this. We don’t have to let-”But Zaveid suddenly stood, his body trembling.“Zaveid, what’s-”“I can’t. You can’t be- I-”And in the next moment, Zaveid had run out the door without a backward glance. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Theodora wasn’t quite used to how loud these socials were.She laughed brightly as Zaveid stepped on her foot once again. He grinned back at her, sheepish as it was.“Sorry. I guess I’m really not talented at this.”“That’s fine. I love you all the same.”Immediately, it was like the sun had broken out of a cloudy sky. His smile widened, impossibly large, his grip on her hand tightening. The touch was reassuring, something familiar, yet just this simple gesture still set her heart flame. How did she ever get so lucky to have this man as hers?Theodora stepped back from her lover, only to loop their arms together. He grinned down at her, looking, by all means, a man very much in love. She pulled them away from the dance floor, Zaveid stumbling a bit before falling in step with her. “I think I’ve had enough of you stomping on my feet for now.”“Ouch, that’s cold.” But still, his smile didn’t dim a wit. She leaned over to him, brushing her lips over his cheek in a brief, chaste kiss.“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll figure it out sometime in the next century.”“Hey, hey, give me some credit. I think I could figure it out in seventy. Just you wait.”She laughed, filled with joy. How could life be so wonderful? To have the perfect lover? Someone who wasn’t her match, yet still chose her, who’d pursued her relentlessly, sweeping her off her feet. In this world, where each person was born with a ‘perfect match,’ he’d still chosen her. And she loved him just as dearly, and just as fiercely.“Hey, maybe we should sneak some of these snacks out to the kids. Foo would love to try some of those sweets.”“Zaveid, this is a charity event. Don’t steal.”“Aw, c’mon, the food’s just sitting-”Zaveid’s voice cut off, as though he were suddenly being choked.Theodora tilted her head towards her lover, wondering why he’d suddenly stop talking. She took a look at his frozen face, then followed his gaze. He seemed to be staring at a pair of blondes, probably siblings judging by the way they were talking. In particular, he seemed to be eyeing the man.She turned back to ask Zaveid what he was staring at, wondering what had him so shook up, but then she’d seen his eyes.And immediately, she knew.Longing. Shock. Revelation.He was helpless.It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her, the word ‘soulmate’ rebounding in her head. She could see it, could see the budding flower that had been planted in her lover, could see the faintest of blushes creeping on his skin. All the words they’d shared, all the memories they’d made together, they suddenly flashed in her mind and, like a jolt of electricity, she knew it was all for naught. How could they even hope to fight against fate? She could see it in her mind, could see Zaveid and that man together; could see their hands entwined, and she knew that she’d already lost a battle that she’d never thought to fight.She wanted to scream.This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t- Zaveid was hers, he loved her, he-Theodora opened her mouth, but no words would leave her mouth. She couldn’t force a single sound past her lips. A hand grabbed at her lover (at her Zaveid, he belonged to-), and she’d nearly slapped it away, only to realize it was the young girl who looked like the man Zaveid had seen (‘his soulmate’, her mind helpfully supplied). She saw her bright blue eyes slide over her, and she was struck by the sympathy in her gaze.As if she were apologizing.“Hey, you, come with me.” The blonde girl spoke in a brisk tone, already tugging at Zaveid to follow her.“Wait, where are you taking me?”“... I’m about to change your life.”Immediately, Theodora made to grab Zaveid, to stop him from going to the man who’d surely take him away from her, but the blonde girl was faster. She grabbed at thin air instead, watching with nothing short of despair as Zaveid met the man that was his soulmate.She could almost hear her own heart shatter.With a deep breath, Theodora held back the tears that had already begun to gather in her eyes. She could feel a hand on her back and she blinked furiously, trying to stop the tears from falling. To her side, the blonde girl was watching Zaveid and her brother stare awkwardly at one another.“If it’s worth anything, I’m sorry.”It took all Theodora had in her to stop herself from yelling.“Then why did you do it?”“... He’s never been satisfied. Not truly. I’m sorry, but I love my brother the most in this world. I just want him to be happy. And wouldn’t it be better for your man, too?” Distantly, she knew the mug in her hands was turning cold.It had been three months. Three months of watching as letter by letter was exchanged, as one of the smiles Zaveid had reserved just for her start to creep on his face as he eagerly read line after line of whatever that man (‘Eizen’, a voice in her head murmured; a voice that sounded a lot like her lover) wrote to him. A month of wishing against all odds that Zaveid would stay with her.A month of wondering when the last time Zaveid would kiss her would be.Her fingers curled around the mug tighter, preparing herself. Zaveid had gone to Eizen’s home for a dinner, and surely, today would be the day they’d both realize that they could have a life together that they were both already falling in love with-She gasped as the front door was flung open. Immediately, she stood, anticipating a burglary and ready to fight if need be. Instead, she found her lover, his body shaking, his eyes downcast.“Zaveid?”He was silent. Quietly, stepping towards him, she repeated his name, hoping for a response. Still, he remained silent, body unnaturally still. Once she was close enough, he grabbed onto her, pulling her tightly against him.“Zaveid, what’s-”“I love you.” Theodora blinked in confusion.“I know-”“I love you the most in this world.”“Zaveid-”“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love-”Zaveid’s legs gave out on him, dragging them both down. Theodora let out a brief shriek as she hit the ground but nonetheless hugged him back as tightly. She could feel something wet hit her skin, could feel her lover shake as he quietly sobbed.Theodora ran her fingers through Zaveid’s hair, letting him hug her impossibly tighter.“Theodora, I love you. I love you so much. It doesn’t matter if that guy’s my soulmate - I don’t want to leave you. I won’t leave you.”She bit her lip, never once stopping her motions.Soulmate.So Eizen really was Zaveid’s soulmate.She held in her own tears, Edna’s words echoing in her head.(“I just want him to be happy.”) Days passed in each other’s arms.In a way, it was refreshing.“You still wanna adopt Foo?”“Of course I do. We should adopt Arwell and Burd while we’re at it - it’d be terrible to separate those three.”Theodora closed her eyes as Zaveid planted a kiss on her head. Together, they laid in bed, closing themselves in their own little world.If only it could stay that way. Sometimes Zaveid would get this look in his eyes, as though he were lost, unsure of where he was. Sometimes, it was like he could barely recognize her.(He always did, in the end, and a smile would spread on his face.But there was always something dull about it. Something empty.In her mind, Theodora knew she was running out of time.) “Where are you going?”“I’ve got a meeting now, love.”Zaveid murmured something unintelligible as he dug himself deeper in the cocoon of blankets. Theodora laughed at the sight, pressing as kiss against his bare shoulder, where his soulmark was.(Soon, she wouldn’t be the one doing this, it would be-)“Come back to bed, Theodora…”“I’m sorry, love, but I really do have to go.”Zaveid let out a sigh and peacefully fell back asleep.A smiled wistfully at the sight. He looks so content, so unworried, unlike how he seemed during his waking moments.She cursed Fate as she stood and left the house. After all, there were arrangements to be made. She would miss this.She would miss the feeling of his hands on her waist, the taste of his lips on hers, the warmth of his body when they were entwined. She would miss his sunny smiles, the way his face would flush bright red when he was embarrassed, the mess his hair was in the mornings. Most of all, she would miss the way he said 'I love you,' the way his clear blue eyes would stare into her own, never wavering, never doubting.Every time he said her name (the soft way he'd murmur 'Theodora,' like it was a treasure he had to kept safe), she would feel her resolve waver.But then she'd remember the sadness in his eyes as he burned the letters, one by one.Sacrificing fate itself for her.She couldn't accept his despair. And so she wrote and wrote and wrote, wrote until her fingers were numb or until Zaveid's eyes would flutter awake.She wrote like she was running out of time. (She was almost out of time.) There was nothing better in her life than her lover, not to her. There was no one who had ever been so beloved, no one as funny, or kind, or understanding. And she knew there was no replacing what she would lose. If she told him to stay, he would. He was already more than willing to give up everything for her, more than willing to give up on his fate because he loved her.But could she really let him do that? Wasn’t it selfish to deny, not one person, but both of them; deny them both of what would truly make them happy. Could something as definite as a soulmate really be cut off that easily, through sheer will and determination? For her own selfish wishes?Maybe. Maybe not.But more than anything, she didn’t want Zaveid to suffer.This was the least she could do for the man she loved so dearly.Take the choice, and make it hers. Create a situation where everyone could win.(Except she was the one losing, but she’d had three months to think this over.In the end, her resolve stayed strong.)Theodora brushed her fingers down his face, tracing the same paths that his tears had fallen a mere few hours ago.“I know you’ll be happy with him.. And I know you’ll be sad for now. But I know you’ll be strong, and I know you’ll move on. May you always be happy.” She placed a kiss on his sleeping face, shakily smiling.“Adieu.”And she knew, knowing what she did, that even if she’d stay, she’d never be satisfied. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- A couple of weeks had passed since Zaveid had run out their door.That day, Edna had walked into the kitchen, quiet as she watched her brother.“I’m sorry, I didn’t think something like this would happen….”But Eizen did nothing more than stare down at his soulmark. Zaveid was pounding on Eizen’s door.As soon as he saw the blond, Zaveid grabbed his collar and pushed him back into the house. He didn’t stop until Eizen was pressed against the wall, their faces inches apart.Zaveid was panting, his face twisted into an expression of absolute fury.“Why’d it have to be you? Why couldn’t it be her?”Eizen said nothing, his face as impassive as always.“She left. She took her things, and she left! The only thing I could find was a letter - a letter, you asshole. Did you say anything to her? Did you chase her off?”Eizen raised an eyebrow, quirking his head to the side. Somewhere in him, Zaveid knew his accusations were baseless. Eizen wasn’t that kind of person, and Theodora couldn’t be swayed by petty intimidation, anyways. She was stronger than that.(Her strength was one of the most beautiful parts of her.)But he needed an outlet for his anger.(‘Zaveid,I’m sorry. I can only imagine how hurt you’ll be when you find this, but hopefully I’ll be gone by the time you’ve realized it…’)“I know Theodora better than anyone else - you’d never find someone who’s as trusting and as kind and she is!” Zaveid knew he was letting his emotions take over him, but he couldn’t stop. His fists were shaking as he pulled Eizen towards him, then slammed him back against the wall. “I love her more than anything in the world – she made me a better person! She dragged me to charities for the orphanage, got me to help with expeditions around the world to help in impoverished countries. There’s never been anyone who’s as good a person as she is!”Still, Eizen refused to say a word.(‘...Something like a soulmate is precious and should be treasured. There are only a handful of people who ever find their matches. I saw the way you and Eizen looked at each other - and I’ve seen the look in your eyes when you read his letters. I’ve never seen someone look so utterly helpless to what was happening to them…’)Zaveid let out a growl. Did nothing break that expression!?“Do you know what you’ve done? Do you know what I’ve lost!?” Zaveid was screaming at Eizen, face contorted in rage. “If I’d told her that I loved you, she would have taken it in stride - she would have accepted it, just like that! She’d say she’s fine, but she would have lied for my sake!”“And do you?”The sudden question was enough to stop him. His brows furrowing in confusion. “Do I what?”“Do you love me?”(‘...Don’t get the wrong idea, my love. My affections for you are as true as ever. But could we really rebel against fate? You’ve been by my side for years, but maybe it’s time we separated. That man gave you a fraction of his life, and you gave him a fraction of yours. And I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you smile as softly as you do when you read his letters. I know this will be hard for you, but I also know how strong you are, how strong you’ve always been. I wish I could have a chance to see how strong you’ll grow. But, instead, you will always be in my heart…’)Zaveid blinked, then frowned. “What kind of stupid question is that? Of course I do, you’re my soulmate. I don’t get a choice in that!”“Shut up. Think about it. Do you love me?”“I-”(‘...I can only hope your life gets better with every day you two share together. I love you, Zaveid, so please, be happy. Be safe. I want you to live a life filled with happiness, even if I can’t be the one to share it with you…’)Zaveid stopped himself, his eyes falling shut as he concentrated. He slowly turned over his memories of Eizen, of how he felt when he was reading his letters, or when they were together. Slowly, he let go of Eizen’s collar. “I don’t- I don’t love you."Not as much as he loved Theodora.“Then go after her.”Zaveid snapped his eyes open. “What?”“You heard what I said. Why are you wasting time here? Go after her. She’s the one you love the most, isn’t she? I’m not here to stop you.”(‘...So with all my heart, I’ll pray for your happiness. And I pray for strength, for the both of us, to move on.So farewell, my love.)Zaveid gaped at the blond, speechless for the first time that evening. One of Eizen’s gloved hands came to his face, a thumb gently caressing his cheek.“Something like a letter, there’s no way you’d be satisfied with it, right? It doesn’t matter if we’re soulmates, a perfect match, or whatever. If you love her, I won’t stop you. But if you come back, to me, I’ll try my best, every day, to make you fall for me instead.”Zaveid took a step back, his mouth opening and closing as he thought of what to say. He gulped, staring into blue eyes he knew he could drown in.(There’d been a time when he had.)“Why are you doing this?”“What, you think I’d force you to stay? I’d never force someone to do something they disagree with so much.” And, finally, Eizen’s expression broke, a wry smile creeping on his face instead. “Besides, who’d be satisfied, knowing the person they loved was forcing themselves?”“You-”The thumb stopped on his lips, silencing him. “It doesn’t matter. You love her. Go find her.”There was a lump in his throat. He felt like something inside him was fluttering, so close to flying to the sky. With a single nod, Zaveid turned on his heel and walked away.He refused to look back.(But, in the end, he did.Somehow, Eizen had looked at peace.) Theodora was at the orphanage, leading Arwell, Foo, and Burd away, when Zaveid finally found her.He yelled her name and when she looked up, she froze. Immediately, the kids started running towards him, grabbing at him, asking why he wasn’t coming with them. Arwell immediately latched onto his leg, shouting something about never letting him go.But Zaveid only had eyes for the most beautiful women he’d ever met.He bit his lip as Theodora pried Arwell off him, and then ushered the three children into the car waiting by the curb. Once the kids were safely out of sight, she turned to him, and they took a moment, staring into one another’s eyes.“Theodora, I-”“Shh.” She placed a finger against his lips. “I’m alright. Why are you here?”But he knew she knew why.“I love you. I love you so much - I don’t care about soulmates. I don’t need mine. I only need you so please, please don’t leave me. Please don’t-”His eyes widened when he felt her lips on his own. She smiled softly as she pulled away, one hand cupping his cheek.“My dear, sweet Zaveid. I already know that.”“Then why-”“I’d told you in the letter, didn’t I? I know you’d never be satisfied.” Zaveid was about to object, but once against, Theodora’s fingers were on his lip. “And neither would I.”He felt like his heart was being crushed. Theodora’s eyes were filled with sadness, but they stayed strong and resolute.“Zaveid, this is where we must separate. Please understand, this is my choice. I want this.”He swallowed thickly, nodding once.Theodora smiled, then turned to leave.He watched her until he could no longer see her or the car she’d piled the kids into. Somehow, his feet lead him to a park.Zaveid sat down on a bench, hunched over as he stared down at his hands.Memories were flashing in his mind, happy ones.Meeting Theodora. Falling in love with Theodora. Years, upon happy years, shared with Theodora.(Three years didn’t feel long enough.)He felt as though a piece of him was missing, ripped out from his core. He needed a moment to think, but he left so alone, so helpless-When someone sat down next to him, Zaveid was ready to yell, to chase the other off.But when he turned, Eizen wasn’t looking at him.The blond had his eyes closed, head tilted towards the sun. He looked peaceful, even if his lip were tilted in the slightest of frowns.(Somehow, Zaveid could tell.)He felt all his anger evaporate, leaving him with his profound sadness, and with a weariness of the blond. He could feel how tense his body was, ready to bolt if the other man so much as opened his mouth.But Eizen never made even a sound. He simply sat there, a solid presence by his side.Somehow, it was a comfort, to know he wasn’t alone.The two men sat side by side, no words exchanged. Not even a glance was shared.They simply took the moment to breathe. The next day, Zaveid was walking, trying to clear his head.His home felt so empty.Every corner he looked, it was like Theodora was still there. Every piece of furniture held a memory that had him grinning madly but simultaneously filled him with sadness. He couldn’t stand to stay there - his mind filled too quickly with regrets and the urge to find Theodora, to take her back into his arms, to hold her tightly.So he left, locked the memorial behind him (because that’s what it was - a grave of memories he’d never live again) and walked down towards the park.But then he’d seen Eizen down the street, leaving his home. Their eyes met, only separated by a couple meters, blue eyes staring into orange. Neither said anything, but when Zaveid passed, Eizen fell into step beside him.Neither said a word.(But, somehow, this moment was more than anything he could ask for.) This quickly became a routine. Somehow, Eizen just knew when Zaveid is in one of his moods, when he was on the verge of drowning in all the memories, the old happiness he’d had with Theodora.He hadn’t heard a word from her since that day.He hoped he would, some day.And so he took walks.And every time, Eizen would be there, waiting for him.(Sometimes he wondered if Eizen waited every day for him.)They’d walked in silence at the beginning, but as a month passed, and then another, Eizen started to make remarks. Just something small, casual, never anything heavy. It was usually about some event that happened at work, maybe an update on Edna. Zaveid eventually started to reply with his own stories about his work.They never talked about Theodora, or about soulmarks. They never talked about what they were to each other.It was comforting, to know the blond never had any expectations.(Their hands occasionally brushed against one another, and each touch was like a jolt of lightning running through him.) “Why are you still here? With me?”Eizen raised an eyebrow at him. They were sitting on the grass, in front of the park’s lake. Zaveid refused to look at the other man, choosing to stare at the water instead. It was a beautiful day: the sun was shining, the sky was clear, and there was a gentle breeze in the air. Occasionally, a duck would let out an ugly squawk, flap its wings, and then settle back on the water’s surface.He could feel Eizen’s eyes on him, but still, the blond didn’t say a word.Zaveid started to fidget, wondering why the other wouldn’t say anything. God, couldn’t the other just be straight with him? Why was he still staring!?Zaveid snapped his head towards the blond, only to find a soft smile on the other’s face.He froze, blinking in confusion. Eizen let out a quiet laugh before grabbing one of Zaveid’s wrists. Immediately, a squawk left his lips and he swore he could see the ducks turn to him from the corner of his eyes.Where had that sound even come from!?Before his mind could process anything, Eizen had lifted Zaveid’s knuckles to his face and planted a kiss on his skin. Everything in his mind suddenly died, the metaphorical train that was his mind crashing to a halt.Eizen was kissing his knuckles.No, he was kissing his fingers.Wait, what!?He couldn’t look away from those blue eyes, heat rising up his face. There were lips brushing against his skin, pressing against each one of his fingers, his knuckles, the back of his hand.His face turned impossibly hot.Eizen suddenly dropped his hand, then stood up.“My sister’s waiting at home. I’ll be leaving now if you don’t mind.”“I- What- Wait, Eizen!”But the blond had already left.For the next hour, Zaveid could do nothing more than clutch his wrist and stare down at his hand.(Each patch of skin that had met Eizen’s lips burned.) The next day, Eizen didn’t say a word about what he’d done.Zaveid couldn’t bring himself to ask. Edna was waiting outside his apartment.How she knew his address, he had no idea.(Though, in hindsight, she probably just stole the address off one of the letters he’d sent Eizen.)She fixed him with a glare fierce enough to have him reeling backward. “I don’t know what you did, but stay true.”“...I’m sorry, what?”“My brother. Don’t cheat on him”“W-what are you talking about? There’s nothing going on between us!?”Edna raised an eyebrow at him, as though she couldn’t believe he’d just said that.(It was incredible, how similar she and her brother were.)“I really don’t understand, I don’t. So what if we’re soulmates? Doesn’t mean we have to be together!”Edna rolled her eyes, opening her umbrella as she turned to leave.“If you hurt him, I’ll tear you to shreds, got it?”A shiver ran up Zaveid’s spine.Somehow, he knew she’d follow through on that promise. Eventually, the pain eased.He didn’t feel the need to run away from his own home, though he knew he wasn’t going to keep it for much longer. Rent was too expensive on his own. His work gave him enough to stay afloat, but it’d be better in the long run to find his own place.So he brought boxes home and piled his meager belongings in them. Eizen came, helping him find what he wanted to keep, what he wanted to sell and what would have to be thrown.Zaveid looked down at the photo album, stroking Theodora’s smiling face. He could feel his own smile slipping onto his face, the memories of a particular party coming to mind. It had been Halloween, and they’d chosen matching costumes for the orphanage’s party. The kids had loved it, but then again, they’d been fond of Theodora anyways, so-“Have you found a new place yet?”The question jolted him out of his thoughts. He slammed the book shut and then looked over to the blond. Eizen wasn’t looking at him, choosing instead to carefully wrap dining plates and the like in bubble wrap.“O-oh. Not exactly, but it’s better to get this done. It’s not like I use everything here - there’s just too many things for a single old man like me.”Eizen nodded once, eyes still glued on the fine china in his hands.“Move in with Edna and I.”Zaveid froze, eyes impossibly wide, then forced out a laugh.“Sorry, I think I just heard you say-”“Move in with Edna and I. We have a spare room. Rent would be cheaper than if you were paying on your own. It’s not too far from here, so it’s not like it’ll be much different public transport wise. I see you often enough, so it’s not like it’ll be a burden to see you a little more, and Edna likes you.”“You’ve really thought this out, haven’t you? How long have you been waiting to ask?”Eizen shrugged. “My sister’s already said she wouldn’t care if you lived with us.”(He swore he could see the faintest of pinks dust Eizen’s face.)“Well, I guess I don’t have a reason to say no, now do I? I’d get to live with a beautiful, young lady, after all! Who knows what could happen-”Zaveid cut himself off as he dove to avoid being hit in the face by a plate. Living with Eizen and Edna wasn’t so bad.It was a comfort, in fact.Neither sibling was particularly chatty (unless you asked about ruins or historical events because then it was hard to get Eizen to shut up), but just knowing they were in the home made his heart swell with affection.But it didn’t have anything to do with Eizen, of course.It was just nice to not being alone anymore.“Since when do you wear glasses?”Eizen didn’t look up from the book he was reading. “I’ve had them for quite a while now.”“Do you need them to read?”“Evidently.”Zaveid rolled his eyes but picked up a book of his own. He wasn’t a huge reader, but Eizen had some really great novels. Not that he’d ever admit he was a fan of classical literature, but Eizen never seemed to mind if Zaveid went off on a tangent about a book he particularly liked.He’d also never admit he really liked the smile that would spread over Eizen’s face while he raved about them.(Liked, not loved!)The only noise Eizen made was a quiet grunt when Zaveid threw himself onto the couch, leaning against the blond as he opened the book in his hands.‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…’ “Why are we doing this again?”“Edna insisted.”“...She’s not even here.”Eizen shrugged, though even he looked a little peeved. They were in an amusement park, children screaming all around them despite the early hour. Edna had insisted she wanted to go, even threatening to ask a boy to take her if Eizen and Zaveid didn’t.Of course, Eizen would never let that happen.In the end, Edna had sent a text saying she had never bought a ticket, but since the two men had, they better enjoy the park for her.“Well, we’ve already paid the tickets so I guess we should enjoy the day.”Eizen sighed but nodded anyways. “Sure, what did you want to-”“Rollercoasters.”Eizen blinked, having been suddenly cut off. Zaveid threw a smirk over to his friend, internally cheering at having brought some different expression to the other man’s face. “Rollercoasters. Or are you too boring to enjoy something that exciting?”Eizen narrowed his eyes at the silver-haired man. “Of course not.”“Then what are you waiting for?”They started off with some smaller rides, but none of them were exciting enough for the two men. They gradually chose bigger and bigger rides, the time spent waiting in line passing by impossibly quick as they chatted and needled at one another.It was halfway through the day when they found themselves strapped into the biggest ride in the park.“Wow, I can see why this baby’s called The Leviathan. Damn, this is one-”“Zaveid, at least try to be appropriate when we’re in public.”Zaveid grinned at the blond, who had the barest hints of a smile on his own face. Eizen really wasn’t an uptight man - he just didn’t find it necessary to express himself all the time.Still, there was a little part of him that celebrated every time he got a smile or when he wrangled out a glint in those blue eyes.There wasn’t time to exchange any more words. In the next moment, the carts were jerking forward, the chains clinking as they rose high above the fairground.Just as they were about to drop, Zaveid turned to grin at Eizen and found the other grinning just as wide.Both of them let out a whoop of excitement as they plummeted downwards.They were both shaking with laughter as they exited the ride, adrenaline pumping through both their veins.“Okay, okay, that one was good. We’re definitely riding it again.” Zaveid couldn’t stop grinning as he slung an arm over Eizen’s shoulder. The blond was smiling too, though it was much more subdued by this point.“Agreed, but we should get some food first.”“Let’s go for ice cream.”“Ice cream?” Eizen voice was in incredulous, though he didn’t protest as Zaveid started to drag him towards a stand.“Yeah, you know, a cold, milky dessert-”“I know what ice cream is.” Zaveid laughed at Eizen’s exasperated tone, pausing in front of the different choice. “I meant, why are we getting ice cream? Why not actual food?”“C’mon, Eizen, there’s no such thing as ‘actual food’ in an amusement park!”Eizen shrugged in response. He chose a bubble-gum flavour when prompted while Zaveid chose a mint with chocolate chips cone.Eizen snorted at the choice.Zaveid counted it as another win.As they walked around, arms brushing, they passed by a man selling balloons. In front of him was a teary eyed little girl, making grabbing motions at the floating plastic. The little girl looked just like Foo, and so Zaveid made a beeline towards her, dragging Eizen along with him. He bent down, kneeling in front of the girl.He didn’t notice the balloon vendor step towards him, weary about a strange man making his way to a little girl, nor did he notice Eizen step in the way and subdue the man with a glare fierce enough to kill.“Hey, little miss. What’s wrong?”“I want a balloon!”“I see, that’s no problem!” Zaveid dug out his wallet, taking out a couple coin. He stood up and turned to the vendor. “How much for one?”“I’m not going to let some pervert buy a little girl a balloon!”Zaveid opened his mouth to retort when Eizen swiped a balloon out of the vendor’s hands. Then he dropped a couple coins and turned to kneel in front of the little girl. Quietly, he handed it over to her, smiling gently as the little girl took it in her hands.“Here, don’t let go of it, okay?”The girl grinned widely and nodded once.(Zaveid felt a pang in his chest, suddenly wishing he could see Theodora and the kids.)Eizen patted her on the head, then stood up.“Let’s go.”“But her parents-”“Are making their way over now.” Eizen tugged him along, dragging Zaveid to another section of the amusement park.Neither said anything as they headed towards to largest rollercoaster. Their arms brushed against each other, and if they were any closer, then Zaveid could grab-“Hey, let’s try a carnival game.” Zaveid ripped his arm towards his body, his face heating up. Eizen wasn’t looking at him, though. His eyes were set on the biggest, fluffiest rabbit doll Zaveid had ever laid eyes on.“What? No way, they’re all rigged.”And then Eizen smirked - a full on smirk, right across his face - as he tugged Zaveid along. “You just gotta be even better.”Two games later, Eizen was carrying a huge penguin, and Zaveid, the rabbit. The park worker was sputtering as Eizen walked away, ridiculously smug.Not that Zaveid wasn’t impressed either, because he was.“How the fuck did you do that?”“It’s actually not that hard.”“Not that hard? Eizen, that was amazing!”“Don’t get the rabbit dirty - I don’t want Edna to get some gross souvenir.”Zaveid rolled his eyes but smiled anyways. “You’ve gotta teach me how you did that sometime, alright?”They repeated the big rides, staying all the way to closing hour. As they were leaving, one of the photographers stopped them.“Hi, sorry, I was just wondering if you’d like to purchase a commemorative photo from your visit here! I’ve taken a couple if you’d like to see.”Zaveid looked over to Eizen, then nodded. “Yeah, sure, we’ll take a look.”“Great! Just take a look at these pictures here - we’ve taken a couple throughout the day!”Zaveid was about to ask when any of this had happened when he felt Eizen tense beside him. He looked over to what Eizen was staring at, only to find a picture of him tugging Eizen along.By the hand.They were holding hands.In fact, they were holding hands right at the moment!?Zaveid almost instinctively pulled away, but just as he was about to, he hesitated.At the same time, Eizen asked for the photo and paid for it.“Why are you buying it?”“It’s not a terrible picture. It’s a memory, isn’t it? But here.” Eizen handed the photo to him, refusing to look him in the eye. Zaveid swore he could see the other man’s face turn red, but it was too dark to see clearly.They left the park, chattering with a bit of awkwardness.(Neither noticed they were still holding hands.Well, at least not until Edna pointed it out while collecting her souvenirs.) The picture sat on his desk for a week before he finally scanned it and printed a smaller copy.The copy found a home in his wallet.He’d never tell Eizen, though. Eizen had a really weird set of friends. Not that they weren’t funny, but they were definitely a little too dark for him.Not Laphicet, of course. That kid was adorable and Zaveid couldn’t help but want to coddle him a bit. Unfortunately, Eleanor and Velvet both had an overprotective streak a mile long.Subtly protective.Laphicet claimed he could defend himself, and he really could.It was cruel, how quickly some kids had to grow up.When he pointed this out, Eizen had frowned, murmuring a quiet agreement before his eyes hardened and he called it a fact of life.Zaveid punched him for that one. On the other hand, Rokurou was literally the best drinking buddy Zaveid could ask for. Someone who was upbeat, positive, and could hold his liquor like he lived on it.So when Rokurou had started to look down wistfully at his sake, Zaveid wondered if the other man had finally hit his limit.“You know, I never used to think he could smile.”“What?”“Eizen. He was always so serious, but he eventually lightened up around all of us. But I’ve never seen him as open around us as he is with you.”“…What are you even talking about?” Zaveid was ready to haul the man’s ass back to his home.“I’m just saying, you’re good for him. He can actually relax around you. So thanks, I guess.”Zaveid shrugged and knocked back another drink. Zaveid sneezed.It was so fucking cold.“Then maybe you should wear something more than a light jacket with no shirt underneath.”Eizen’s voice shocked him. He swiveled around, only to find Eizen in front of him. There was a light layer of snow covering his blond hair, his face twisted into an irritated scowl. Somehow, he seemed to glow in the dim streetlights, like an angel in black coming to collect his soul.(Did that scowl count as a win? He was counting it as a win.)“You never wear enough. It’s freezing and you still refuse to wear proper clothing.” Eizen continued to grumble while he produced a scarf out of nowhere.“Eizen, what are you-”“Shut up.” Eizen wrapped the scarf around Zaveid’s neck, adjusting it until a decent amount of skin was covered. As much as could be hidden with a scarf, at least.“Hey, you worrywart, you don’t have to do this-"“If I don’t, who’s going to help you?”Zaveid gaped as Eizen turned on his heel and walked back towards their home.Their home.Suddenly, Zaveid could feel his face heating up, turning a deep red. God, Eizen just wrapped a scarf around him. A scarf that he obviously didn’t need, one that didn’t match any of his clothes, and that wouldn’t help much in the long run, considering it only covered his neck, but…He didn’t take it off for the whole walk towards the orphanage.(In fact, the scarf stayed wrapped around his neck until he got home and Edna pointed out that it belonged to her brother.) Days, weeks, months pass by until, finally, it had been over a year.A year since Theodora left.Maybe it really was time to move on.Zaveid placed the last of the picture albums in a box, taped it up and buried it in the back of his closet, as though he could keep the memories of the past in there.It wasn’t like he was in love with someone else now, anyways.(Except he was, and though he felt a bit amount of guilt over that, something about it had him giddy, too.) Zaveid grumbled as someone bumped into him. The room was crowded, stuffy and loud. How did he even survive this last year?Oh, yes, he had Theodora at the time.“Here, this might help a bit.”Zaveid blinked as a champagne flute appeared in front of him. Eizen had his own, though it was only half full. He must have drunk some of it already.“This brings back memories, doesn’t it?”“It’s only been about a year, don’t make it sound like so long ago.” Eizen was staring out at the crowd, to where her sister was talking to a group of teens her age. Earlier, They’d introduced themselves as Edna’s classmates, but he could hardly believe they were their actual names. Who named their kid Sorey?“C’mon, don’t be so worried about her. I’m sure she’s fine.” Zaveid nudged his elbow into Eizen’s side. The blond snorted in retort, finally tearing his eyes away from his little sister.“I’m not worried. Those two boys there are soulmates, and those two girls are soulmates.”Zaveid choked on his drink, snapping his head to his friend. “What!?”“The brunette has a glove on, and the blue-haired boy’s wearing a circlet. The brunette keeps trying to grab the other’s hand, but the other won’t let him. The girls have matching marks on their necks.”“Oh.”Zaveid’s eyes inadvertently glanced down at Eizen’s hand, which was also covered with a glove. He knew that’s where Eizen’s soulmate was.The soulmark that matched his own.He resisted the to urge to touch his shoulder, where his own soulmate was. Eizen had never seen it - Zaveid always dressed himself in the washroom after showers and there wasn’t many other opportunities for him to take off his shirt. He wasn’t afraid to show off a little skin, but knowing Eizen could see his mark scared him a little.“That day, when I saw you…” Zaveid looked up at Eizen, though his friend’s eyes were clouded as he stared into his drink.“Huh?”Eizen shook his head, then knocked back the rest of his glass. Then, he took Zaveid’s arm, dragging his past the crowd.“Hey, where are you taking me?”“Somewhere to put down these glasses.”“Uhm. Alright.” Eizen’s glass was empty, so that made sense, but he really didn’t need to drag Zaveid with him. Actually, on that note “... By the way, aren’t your friends here?”He could have sworn he’d seen Rokurou and Velvet dancing earlier. How Rokurou had managed that was a mystery, but they were pretty cute together. He wondered if they were soulmates, too, but some he doubted it. In fact, he didn’t think any of Eizen’s friends shared soulmarks.Why did his mind keep going back to soulmarks?“They are, but I have something else I want to do tonight.”“What-”Eizen had suddenly let go of his arm. The placed the glass down and turned to Zaveid, multiple emotions warring on his face. Zaveid barely had time to register the hesitancy, uncertainty and, finally, determination, before a hand was thrust in front of him.“Dance with me.”“...What!?”“Dance with me. Please.” Zaveid was about to laugh it off as a joke, but as he opened his mouth, he noticed the light in Eizen’s dim.It had been a year, struggling with how he felt, dealing with losing Theodora and falling in love with this man.Could he even be bothered to deny it anymore?So instead of laughing, Zaveid closed his mouth and smiled as he accepted the hand.“Sure, let’s dance, but I’m leading.”Seeing Eizen’s eyes brightening only encouraged him. They danced song after song, each move in sync. They only needed to look at one another, into each other’s eyes, to know what the other was thinking.“You’re not that bad at this.”“I just know when to step away before you step on my feet.” Eizen smirked at him, narrowly avoiding Zaveid stamping down on his feet on purpose.Zaveid shook his head, grinning. “A year ago, your sister dragged me across the room to meet you. Do you think she knew?”“It’s Edna. She’s got an intuition like no other.”“Yeah, I’d believe that.” The music around them slowed. More couples were starting to occupy the dance floor, bodies pressed close, cheeks pressed against one another. Zaveid wondered if he and Eizen could do that.But Eizen was stepping away, lead Zaveid away from the dance floor.Zaveid tried not to be disappointed, choosing instead to stare at how their fingers were entwined.He could hear Eizen take in a shuddering breath. They’d moved to a more secluded area, where there were no prying eyes. “Eizen? What’s up?”Eizen seemed to struggle for a moment before he took Zaveid’s hand and kissed each finger, just like that day in the park. Zaveid could feel his face flushing.“Zaveid, I don’t have much to speak of. I don’t have a fortune, I can’t be bothered to express myself. I get picky about dishes and my clothes, and I own too much whiskey for one person to healthily drink alone.” Eizen couldn’t look him in the eyes. In all the time they’d met, Zaveid had never seen him hesitate so much. Somehow, he knew, he just knew- “But when my sister made her way to you, when I first saw you, my world turned upside down. When you left, I thought ‘there’s no way this could ever work.’ I didn’t want fate to choose who I love, or to choose my future.“But with you, I feel like the world’s a little brighter, a little more exciting. So I swear to you, Zaveid, that for as long as I’m alive, you’ll never have to feel so helpless.” Eizen was staring down at their joined hand, and Zaveid could feel the barest trembling. Eizen was shaking. Eizen was nervous. Of all things-Zaveid let out a bark of laughing. Immediately, the blue eyes he’d come to love snapped up to him, something in them starting to shatter, and that wouldn’t do, not one bit.So Zaveid leant forward and pressed his lips to Eizen’s.As he pulled back, he couldn’t help the small chuckle that left his lips as he saw Eizen’s shocked face. He didn’t think Eizen was blinking, even breathing. God, he was beautiful.And the red flush that crept up Eizen’s face was a good look, too.It was like something had exploded all over his fair skin, from his cheeks, over his nose, to his ears, and down his neck. He was so red, Zaveid was mildly concerned he’d pass out.But then the biggest grin he’d ever seen spread over Eizen’s face, and Zaveid fell just that much more in love. “Jeez, you sap, you didn’t need to bring out the wedding vows just to ask me if I wanted to date you.”Eizen shook his head, pressing more kisses onto Zaveid’s hands. Palms, fingers, wrists, every expanse of exposed skin on his hands was brought to those lips. When the blond was finally satisfied, he grinned at Zaveid, face still flushed red.He looked so incredibly happy…“If you think I’m going to let you go so easily, you’re wrong.”But they both knew that if Zaveid really wanted to leave, Eizen wouldn’t stop him.Zaveid shook his head, then dragged Eizen into another kiss, their mouths moving perfectly against one another, their hands tangled together.God, he’d never felt so helplessly in love.And damn if he wasn’t satisfied.(But he’d never get enough of this man, this he knew.)
10281818	In All Thy Humors Or Why	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Leonard \"Bones\" McCoy, Spock, James T. Kirk", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by StellarLibraryLady", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "833", "Additional Tags": "McCoy's Characterization, Contradictory Characters, Epigrams, Martial (Roman Writer), Jerry Lewis - Freeform, Incandescent Hearts (Star Trek Series), karl urban - Freeform, DeForest Kelley - Freeform, New Zealand Actors", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Star Trek Incandescent Hearts", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Most of us know who he is. Most of us get an instant image of him whenever we hear his name. I will say “most” because probably there are still people out there who either don’t know or simply don’t care to know a fictional guy who means so much to us Star Trek fans and fan fiction writers and/or readers everywhere. We hear the name of Leonard Horatio “Bones” McCoy, and we smile. McCoy is the Chief Medical Officer of the Starship Enterprise and its resident curmudgeon. We know what to expect from him. Well, no, we don’t really know what to expect. That’s the fun of it. But we do know that whatever the situation McCoy finds himself in now, he is going to be vocal about it. And if you don’t realize it at first, he certainly will ’mention it to you in passing.’ Make no doubt about it. You will know his opinion. He is the emotional side of Kirk’s character, remember. Whether it is DeForest Kelley or Karl Urban whose face and figure comes to mind makes no difference. For me, they change back and forth with a kaleidoscopic effect, which shows Urban's acting brilliance. Kelley’s portrayal was more urbane and courtly with a side of bulldog bite to it. Urban’s is more roughhouse with a barely contained anger and wildness simmering just beneath the surface. He seems more driven and compelled, and he appears to be his own worst enemy at times. Either, any, or all portrayals are ‘right on’ because McCoy is such a contradiction. Irascible, outspoken, and hot tempered one moment, he can become charming, flirty, and ever the Southern gentleman the next moment. Yet, no matter how he crashes around muttering displeasure, we know that underneath is a steadfast and dedicated person who loves too intensely and gets hurt too deeply. Everything a person like that does is full force. There are no half measures. I recently left a comment on Esperata’s fic “Can’t Sleep Without…” which is a one hundred word drabble about an incident that happened on an overnight layover by a landing party from the Enterprise. It is a jewel that speaks volumes. I heartily recommend it if you haven’t read it. And if you have, it never hurts to re-read favorites. In answering my comment, Esperata wrote ”I adore McCoy….” And that got me to thinking about some of my reasons for liking McCoy, also. I kept remembering a poem that I had included in my novel “Toehold to Fame” which is a love song to that incomparable genius, Jerry Lewis. He is a lot like McCoy in that the both of them are larger than life. In Chapter Eleven of my work (which is posted on this site), I have the son of the central character Gabe Bryson (Jerry Lewis) recite a poem explaining why people stay loyal and love him despite his tendency to run over people and be bossy. Bryson’s character, like McCoy’s character, is irascible, yet warm and overbearing, yet tender hearted. I was going to share that short poem with just Esperata, and then I decided to post it so that the rest of the McCoy lovers out there could enjoy it, also. The poem which Gabe Bryson’s son recites is an epigram. An epigram is “a short poem expressing a single idea, that is usually satirical and has a witty ending.” That is a direct quote from my dictionary lookup on my Microsoft Works Word Processor, so I am giving credit where it is due.The four lines of the poem help explain why we like people, either real or fictional, such as Leonard McCoy. Marcus Valerius Martialis, or, as he has come down through history to be known, Martial, was a Roman epigrammatist living in the first century after Christ. He must have been thinking of people like Leonard McCoy when he wrote: “In all thy humors, whether grave or mellow, Thou’rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow, Hast so much wit and mirth and spleen about thee, There is no living with thee nor without thee.”Such contradictions! But maybe that accounts for the fascination.In my fic ‘If I Give My Heart To You’ (also available on this site), I have Spock illogically attracted to McCoy by the “mere nature of McCoy’s inconsistency.” It was the contradictions in McCoy’s behavior that caught Spock’s attention. He knew, as we know, that the McCoys of this world hear a different drummer, indeed. And march to a different tune than we do. That tune is fascinating for the curious Spock, as it is for us.If we’re lucky, we all have McCoys in our lives. They frustrate us and anger us, but they certainly make our lives more interesting, if not harrying. And we should be thankful for them, just as Spock and Kirk and the rest of the Enterprise crew are thankful for their ‘real McCoy.’ (Yeah, I had to do that!)
10210616	Bottoms Up	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov, Christophe Giacometti", "Fandom": "Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by cryingoverspilledvodka, lucycamui", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-10T00:00:00", "words": "4,338", "Additional Tags": "Humor, Comedy, Grand Prix Final Banquet, Flirting, Pre-Relationship, Autographs in questionable places, Yuuri is a drunken tease, Victor suffers but he's happy about it, Chris is having the time of his life", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov", "Series": "The Victuuri Humor & Fluff Collection, The Lucyoverspilledvodka Collab Collection", "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 }	Yuuri made the very bold decision that champagne was going to be his best friend that night. In addition to being a Japanese national treasure and abysmal one-time Grand Prix failure, Yuuri was also a major Victor Nikiforov fanboy. And on top of all that, he was drunk. He was frustrated. He had his idol right in front of him.He was going to get what he always wanted.“Viiiiiiiiiiiiictor~!”Yuuri stumbled over, his champagne-glazed eyes wide and glistening at the bored-looking Russian standing in a corner. Where he had been standing for most of the night. Yuuri knew because he had been sneaking peeks over at him before and after every glass of champagne, until that delightful buzz of alcohol made going over to him seem like the best possible idea in the world."Victor!! I-..." Yuuri swayed a little in his spot, attention wandering for a short moment—because fucking hell he was actually going to do this—before settling back on Victor, determination flaring through him. "I-... I love you! Soooooo much. You know, you’re-… you’re amazing. I mean, you’re great. Really great.” All the reasons why Victor was so great jumbled themselves up together in Yuuri’s mind, so he gave up on the inclination of trying to explain why Victor was so great, and jumped to the thing he really wanted to say. “AndIreallywannagetyourautograph."Now, Victor had a lot of experience dealing with fans. Of all types. Shy and respectful, the kind that approached simply to ask for a handshake and offer soft words of appreciation. Overly excited and jumping, the kind that tended to ask for selfies and hugs. Casual and knowledgeable, the kind that made remarks about his last short program and could carry a decent conversation. There was the occasional odd experience, like the man in France who asked to kiss his feet on a train or the woman in Korea who only talked about the hair commercials he had done for Shiseido back when he was seventeen.Admittedly, sometimes there happened to be fans who were quite attractive, quite flirty, and quite obvious. And while Victor certainly did not mind that, he had never taken advantage.However, he found himself at present in the very precarious position of wanting very much to take advantage, as the man who had just simpered up to him was unbearably hot. And to make matters worse, this bundle of sensual energy and bright brown eyes was also utterly wasted, if the way he nearly threw himself into Victor’s arms was any indication.“I- uh,” Victor stammered, for once unsure how to handle the situation. Common sense instructed him to find a way to detach himself from the smaller man but that gorgeously crooked smile instructed him to listen to any and every request which came from it. “I don't have any paper.”The pout that answered him should have been illegal, and the dark-haired man seemed to think about that for a moment before something evidently dawned on him, his gorgeous round face lighting up.“Sign me!” he exclaimed, sending Victor's eyebrows somewhere up past his fringe with shock. The man giggled, a warm sound that filled Victor up like water. “Wherever you like!” He then added on, smile widening, obviously pleased at his own idea.Some part of Yuuri’s brain that was not awash in alcohol and the fact that Victor fucking-hot-as-hell Nikiforov was actually in the same room as him reminded him of a joke Phichit had once made. If you ever got Victor's signature you could get it tattooed on you! And truth be told, Phichit was a genius. Why that had seemed like such a hilarious joke back then was lost on Yuuri. It seemed like a brilliant idea. Fuck Japanese taboos, Yuuri lived in Detroit now!"Sign my chest!" Yuuri scrambled to try to undo the buttons of his shirt, some of which were already undone—although he did not remember at what point that had happened—only to find them infuriatingly slippery under his fumbling fingers. "W-... I can t-totally do this... Wait just a sex, Victor—a sec!" Yuuri laughed at his own slip.And just like that, Victor was screwed. Because drunk-and-gorgeous was stripping—stripping!—and fuck, everything underneath the already mussed up shirt made the situation so much worse and so much better. Victor could not think fast enough to try to stop him, and the next moment the white shirt flapped completely open, revealing to Victor a very well-toned body, with a striking curve just at the junction of the man's hips.Victor wasn't screwed—he was royally fucked.“Ta-dah!” the man cried, grinning triumphantly at his newfound nakedness. Victor audibly gulped, hands hovering between the two of them as he didn't have the faintest idea where to put them. Well, he had one idea. But he was trying to grasp at a single remaining tendril of control, trying to figure out how exactly he should respond.Yuuri blinked and waited, watching as the unfairly handsome Russian so clearly tried to search for something to say.And waited.And waited....Maybe Victor didn't want to sign his chest. Although his blue eyes seemed to be raking in the sight of Yuuri's skin. However, there were other options available, if Victor preferred something else. Yuuri was very open to any sort of option that involved Victor."Or!" Yuuri spun around, craning forward at the waist just slightly. "Or you could.. you c-could sign my ass!"Victor's mouth dropped open. He gaped for a moment, maybe two, stretching into three, as shock gripped him. “You—? You want me to sign...?”“My ass!” Yuuri cried happily, twisting his waist so he could glance at Victor over his shoulder. God, how could he bend like that?! Victor was a world-class athlete and he certainly could not bend like that. He was suddenly struck by the mental image of just how much that gorgeous, curved waist could arch, preferably under Victor's hands, or maybe— Okay! Stop, stop!This guy was clearly plastered. There was no way he was in any condition to consent to any of this, right? Victor had to be a decent person. A decent, sensible and respectful person. He had to turn the man down.But then a look of confusion crossed the man's face as Victor had still said nothing to his reaffirmed offer. And he turned around, snaking arms around Victor's waist and pulling him flush. Hips to hips and everything meeting in-between. Victor had to bite his bottom lip to stop any kind of noise from escaping. This was ridiculous. When he did start finding messy drunks this attractive? Admittedly, most messy drunks he had met did not have such striking brown eyes, pouty pinks lips and a set of abdominals that looked like they had been cut out of a magazine. His black hair was messed and blue-framed glasses crooked, and Victor only found that all the more charming.“What's wrong?” he asked, wide eyes glazed but searching. Yuuri's brain was working double-time to try to process everything. Why wasn't Victor responding to him? Was he speaking Japanese? …No, definitely English. And Victor spoke English. Accented, deep, sexy English. With the rolled r's and broad intonations. Yuuri had watched enough interviews to know that. Victor's sexy English was prime feature number two on Yuuri's list of Things About Victor Nikiforov That Turn Me The Fuck On.“Is my ass not good enough for you? You don’t like it?”“Oh, no! No! Your ass is great!” The words slipped before Victor was unable to help himself, more flustered by the second. How could this beautiful creature think such a thing? Didn't he know how good looking he was? If he didn't, he was about to find out very soon how attractive Victor found him, as the man's drunken swaying was stirring up a very telling giveaway."Then why don't you sign it, Viiiiictor?" he asked, and turned back around, bending over to give Victor the full view, perhaps accidentally-on-purpose letting said backside bump its way along Victor's frontside.Victor groaned, half-exasperated and half-delighted. The aforementioned ass pressed right up against where Victor could only dream of it being. He tipped his head up to the ceiling, praying to God or anyone else who might be listening. For what, Victor couldn't say for sure. He knew he should be praying for salvation, but honestly, Victor would rather be granted a private space with drunk-and-gorgeous.Actually...Okay. Maybe Victor was going to hell. The man rolled his hips a little and Victor canted forward, unable to stop himself. He bit his lip again, not sure what noise would've come out of him at the contact. Yep. Definitely hell. This was wrong. So wrong. Very wrong. In so many ways. But those were also definitely and indisputably bedroom eyes he was getting, and if Victor was going to hell, he might as well live in the meantime. “Don't you think—” Victor swallowed, but then those hips rocked against him again, and he was gone. “Don't you think this is a bit public for such an endeavor?” Victor suggested, hands coming down onto the man's hip as he sold himself over to hell in exchange for everything in front of him. The man's body was warm beneath his fingers and when Victor brushed skin, his stomach felt like it was turning inside out.And Yuuri felt exactly the same. Because Victor Nikiforov's hands were on his hips. Meaning that at some point during the night Yuuri had died and gone to heaven. Or was simply adding on to his collection of wild dreams starring one such gorgeous legendary Russian. Either way though, dead or dreaming, meant that Yuuri had no intention of letting this fantasy come to life get cut short. Especially not when Victor leaned into him."W-whaddaya mean?" Yuuri asked brightly. Victor looked conflicted. Like he needed a little bit of encouragement. Skating legend or not, maybe this was the first time he had been asked to sign a body part? Although, that was a little hard to believe. Victor was hot enough that drunk Yuuri might have asked him to do if even if he didn't know who Victor was. Just as an excuse to get within prime admiring range. Then Victor's fingertips brushed along Yuuri's skin and he couldn't help but moan, wiggling into the touch. "Viiiiictor. Just f—… just sign me, please."Victor's heart stopped. The man caught himself slipping on words again, but not before Victor got the impression he was about to say something else entirely. Especially with a goddamn moan right before it. Victor's grip tightened, fingers pressing into the soft skin of the other’s lower waist, tipping down around his navel and pulling the man backwards, ass pressed now even more firmly against Victor's groin. Which was becoming very obviously interested embarrassingly fast. The right thing to do at that moment would be to push the other away. Separate himself from the situation entirely. Or else simply drag the dark-haired man out to the hall and then into a utility closet somewhere. Because didn’t Victor deserve something a little wild and reckless now and then?“You're really something,” Victor muttered, sounding breathless even to himself. There was another sinful little moan again, and his back arched up as he glanced at Victor over his shoulder. Some part of Victor was immensely curious about the type of thanks he might receive for following through on the request, “Do you have a pen?”The man blinked at him with his deep, brown eyes for a moment before his eyebrows knitted together. A shock of something went straight through Victor at the sight, because in that moment the sensual and beautiful thing in front of him was also adorable. And what a number that combination was doing to his heart and that dull ache building low in his abdomen.“No,” he replied slowly, before his face contorted into one of absolute misery. “… So you’re not gonna sign me?”Victor was about to suggest that he could kiss his name across every part of the man's skin, if he wanted, before he thought better of it. Instead, Victor looked around the banquet. The two of them were somewhat estranged, over towards a darker corner by one of the exits, as the man had accosted him on his way back from the restroom. No one seemed to be paying them too much attention, except for—“Chris!” Victor called out, releasing one of his hands—quite regrettably—to wave Chris over, who was standing at a nearby table with one of the women’s skaters.There was a small noise of protest in front of Victor, so he slipped his other arm completely around the man's waist, hand skimming across the burning skin there. Victor's head fell forward at the feeling of the curved abdomen beneath him, forehead meeting the beautiful resistance of the man's shoulder.Yuuri felt like he was on one hell of a buzzed roller coaster. Up with when Victor pulled him in, sounding like his tongue was tied in knots as he stumbled over words to whisper what seemed like it could be a compliment in Yuuri's champagne-soaked mind. Then plummeting down when Victor stated he had no pen. Frankly, Yuuri considered that to be just irresponsible. A man like Victor should be carrying silver sharpies wherever he went in the case a drunk Japanese skater decided to grind up on him with the request. Then back up again the coaster climbed when Victor's arm wrapped around Yuuri's waist. Way the fuck up. "Chriiiiiiiis," Yuuri whined when he saw the Swiss skater approach, smirking to hell and back at them. "Chris, Victor won't sign my ass, make him sign it for me!!!"Victor was blushing, he knew it. But there was nothing to be done about it. Chris sauntered over, looking unbearably pleased with himself. When he was standing right in front of Victor and his... fan, he smirked broadly.“Victor,” Chris chimed and Victor tried to push down his immediate regret at getting Chris involved. “Need help with… something?”“Yes, actually,” Victor said, knowing that he should probably ask Chris if he knew this man or where his hotel room is. For purely gentlemanly reasons of course. And yet—“Do you have a pen?”Chris raised a perfect eyebrow. “Not what I expected you'd be requesting.”“Chris~” Yuuri sang the blond skater’s name. “Victor doesn't have a pen! Can you believe that? So unprofessional!'"I agree, mon amour, very unprofessional," Chris confirmed, the amusement thick in his voice as he watched Yuuri shift back further into Victor, who looked the perfect combination of delighted, flustered and uncomfortable in a special kind of way. "But I'm afraid I don't have one either."Yuuri pouted. Stuck out his lower lip as far it could go and then let his head fall back onto Victor's shoulder, gazing up at the Russian man through heavy eyelashes. Instantly reminded of how gorgeous Victor was. That jawline could cut diamonds. Yuuri was rather tempted to press his pout against it. The tips of Victor's ear were stained pink as well, sending Yuuri a very clear invitation to nip at them. He didn't though. "Oh, oh, ask the officials, Chris! They'll have a-.... a marker… or something!"Yuuri might have stumbled across the room to one of them himself if he wasn't more preoccupied in keeping his ass pressed flush against Victor's groin because... honestly that had always been a life goal and when would he ever have the chance again?“Oh, Yuuri.” Chris practically sang and Victor blinked, surprised.“His name is Yuuri?” he asked, perhaps a little quietly, the fact that he had watched a Yuuri skate with a mild sort of interest earlier dawning on him. Then, said-Yuuri squirmed in Victor's arm, ass grinding beautifully right where Victor wanted it.“Who's Yuuri?” Yuuri asked drunkenly, looking around him with a suspicious frown. "I'm the best Yuuri. Right, Victor? I’m your favorite Yuuri?”“I'd say you're his favorite everything right now, chéri,” Chris teased, earning him a glare from Victor. “Perhaps we should leave the officials out of this. Maybe try reception? Or maybe Victor just left his pen back in his room?”Chris winked and Victor felt more than heard Yuuri giggle at his words. His grip of Yuuri tightened, maybe a little possessively."If I... If I went to his room, I'd forget about-... about the signature!" Yuuri laughed and tried to wink at Chris but instead ending up closing both his eyes. He kept them closed for a long moment, swimming in champagne and the feeling of Victor's arm still around his waist. Who knew Grand Prix banquets could be this amazing. "And I really really really want his signature!"Chris laughed and took pity on his drunk friend. "All right, darling, I'll get you a pen. Although Victor would probably mark you up in other ways if you asked him!" Chris smirked proudly and left the two in order to go fetch the dually-requested pen.Yuuri settled himself in Victor's arms as he waited, very taken in by the shining cuff links in the Russian's suit sleeve, absent mindedly stroking his fingers over the back of Victor's wrist as he studied them.Chris returned after too long and too short a minute, holding out a thin black felt-tip marker. Yuuri grabbed at it eagerly and then twirled around, pressing it into Victor's hands. "Yay! Victor, sign me! Oh wait, wait, I know here!" Quickly as he could, he undid the fastening of his trousers and almost fell over trying to get them off, stripping down so that Victor could sign his underwear.Victor felt his brain shut down. Oh god, oh god, oh god- was this happening? Here? Right now?Yuuri's trousers opened in a very inviting v, black boxers revealing themselves. Victor held his hands aloft, the damned pen almost slipping from his fingers as he found himself utterly transfixed.Yuuri's hands struggled a little with trying to slip his trousers down further. Victor sent a panicked glance towards Chris, who looked too much like a child on Christmas morning about to open his present. Except, if this was anyone's present it was Victor's.“Alright! Hold on!” Victor finally managed, taking Yuuri's hands in his own to stop him from stripping any further. “How about we work our way down?”Yuuri stared at Victor with a dazed look, beautiful brown eyes blinking dreamily.“But Victor~” he whined, voice so sweet that Victor wanted to kiss him to see if he could taste it. “I've already waited so- so much! And you have pen now! Right?”Yuuri hopped a little on his toes, pressing his warm and close to naked body up against Victor in a way that was just sinful. How could Victor deny him?Victor gave him a shaky okay and Yuuri threw his arms to the sky in celebration, letting his shirt hang open with the banquet room lights reflecting off his skin."Chris, Chris, ohmygod I'm g-gonna get… Victor Nikiforov's autograph!" he exclaimed happily and then kicked his trousers off the rest of the way, throwing them into the Swiss skater's arms. For safe keeping. Or something.Chris looked mighty happy about it regardless. "Like hell you are, Yuuri." He confirmed cheekily, but Yuuri did not notice the glare Victor threw him in response."Come on, Victor~" Yuuri pleaded, blinking up at the Russian. Victor holding his hands was another life goal. But right now he wanted those hands dragging ink across his buttocks. Yuuri turned back around and bent over practically in half, purposefully swaying his hips from side to side. "Sign it!"As invitations went, it was most certainly not the worst Victor had ever gotten. Swallowing thickly and very, very aware of Chris's eyes on him, Victor put a hand on Yuuri's lower back to steady his swaying form.Unfortunately, the image of his hand splayed flat and pale against the smooth skin of Yuuri's back from where his shirt had ridden up sent all thoughts tumbling down south. Very, very south to a particular destination.Chris whistled lowly, causing Victor to look back at him—caught red handed as it were. Chris was smiling terribly smugly and he gave Victor an exaggerated salute. “You know, I think you two have figured it out,” he teased, turning on his heel, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he left. “Try not to get any ink on that nice shirt, Yuuri!”Yuuri waved back with enthusiasm and shouted, "Okay!" before turning his full attention back to the man standing behind him and oh—that was a sight. Did all Russians blush that beautifully? The red hue was such a great contrast across his alabaster skin.Alone, or relatively in their dark corner of the banquet hall, Victor turned his eyes to the matter at hand. Or rather, the ass that was presented to him held firm under Victor's own grip. Taking a shaky breath, Victor uncapped the pen with his teeth.Slowly—perhaps more slowly than he should allow himself as Yuuri was so drunk and oh god, Victor was evil, wasn't he?—Victor dragged his hand down Yuuri's back, hooking his fingers underneath Yuuri's undergarment waistband.Yuuri shivered as Victor's fingers danced down his back, feeding every single teenaged (and adult) fantasy he had ever had about a very particular silver-haired Russian. Too bad Phichit wasn't here. Phichit would have died. Taken photos and died. Yuuri really wanted photos.Victor tugged the offending article of clothing down just a little, just enough to reveal the round curve of one cheek of the very delectable looking ass in front of him. “Fuck,” Victor said before he could stop himself, pen quivering in his hand as he slowly went to sign his name.His name. A physical signature on another person. This person. Yuuri. Beautiful, sexy, drunk Yuuri.For a second Yuuri's heart flopped all over the place when he thought Victor was going to keep pulling down, all the way, but at this point Yuuri would have let him. Felt-tip marker scrawled Victor's name across his skin and Yuuri craned, twisting at the waist to look down at it.There it was. Victor Nikiforov, impossibly elegant, the glistening black ink a stark contrast against Yuuri’s skin. Victor’s name written across his ass, like some sort of claim.Yuuri started laughing.And couldn’t stop. "Oh my god. I-... I meant, not like that.... I thought you were gonna sign my shorts!"Victor froze, pen really falling from his hand this time. His mouth opened a few times, but he was speechless. Unable to form anything as the only thought running through his head was variations of FUCK very much distinct from the ones he had uttered earlier.Yuuri twisted his body around, trying to see the signature itself again before he completely disintegrated into a fit of giggles, one hand just pulling his underwear back up.“I- I can't believe you did that!” Yuuri laughed, his voice tinkling like the champagne glasses around them. Victor felt heat erupt up through him, bleeding out across his face. Yuuri opened his scrunched up eyes, blinking as he took Victor in. “Victor... Victor, you're really red. You're so red.”Yuuri suddenly had both hands up and over his mouth as he laughed again, eyes closing and Victor resisted the urge to cover his own face in the rapidly growing shame he was suffocating in.“A red Russian!” Yuuri chuckled, bouncing up and down a little on the heels of his feet. “Get it?”Victor did get it. And what it was, was that Victor was an idiot. A really, really big idiot who had not only taken a huge advantage, but had also done in to the most embarrassing way he could possibly have done so.Coming back with a tumbling crash of guilt, Victor just caught himself from reaching out and gripping Yuuri's narrow shoulders.“Oh, God! I'm sorry!” he said, meeting Yuuri's eyes which were now frowning at him, confused by his sudden exclamation. “I can't, I really can't believe I— Let me sign something else for you! Something proper!”Yuuri always thought Victor was the most beautiful when he was skating. Graceful artwork weaving intricate dances on ice. Had always been, since Yuuri first saw him on that old television screen. Yuuri was wrong. This Victor, flushed and stuttering, was the most beautiful thing Yuuri had ever seen. Yuuri was pretty sure he had eaten strawberries less red than Victor.Throwing his arms around Victor's shoulders, Yuuri nuzzled against his neck, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. This was much, much better. Forget getting his underwear signed, when he got to have the feeling of Victor's hands caressing his ass."You already signed me proper enough," Yuuri giggled again and bumped his hips teasingly against Victor's. He was ecstatic. This was unbelievable. Victor Nikiforov had actually signed his ass. He needed to show someone!"Thank you, Victor!" Yuuri declared and then, deciding that the Russian deserved a proper thanks, pressed his lips firmly to Victor's cheek. Then a few more, up the side of his face to exhale against his ear before peeling himself off."Chris!! You gotta see this!" Yuuri shouted enthusiastically across the room, and stumbled away to show off his new ink to the Swiss. Victor just watched helplessly as the Swiss laughed with Yuuri, and helped the drunken man back into his trousers, wondering what the hell he could possibly do to try to save himself from such an embarrassment. He didn’t have to wait too long, as not long after, Yuuri came back, smiling brighter than any gold medal Victor had ever seen. Yuuri winked at the shared secret between them, grasped Victor’s hands, and then… asked him to dance.
10292840	In the Shadow of the	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn, Jenna Zan Arbor, Grakkus the Hutt - Character", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Richard_cypher", "chapters": "3/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-14T00:00:00", "words": "4,198", "Additional Tags": "sad and adorable Anakin", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy", "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: Premonitions Nineteen year old Obi-wan Kenobi sat on one of the meditation mats in the living area of him and his Masters shared quarters. Legs folded, back straight and hands resting on his knees, he was attempting- and failing terribly- to meditate. Nothing he did seemed to help his meditation along. The burn on his thigh kept twinging and itching at the worst times, the early evening sun managed to shine right in his eyes no matter where he dragged the mat, and every single time he managed to focus his mind, an errant thought would pop up and distract him. But still, he persisted. After all, it was what a Jedi did in his spare time. Proper meditation, as he’d been taught, was fundamental to maintaining one’s inner balance; and balance was the key to both accessing and manipulating the Force around you. A key that young Obi-wan just didn’t possess today – hence the unusual before-dinner meditation session. His morning sparring with Master Qui-gon had gone smoothly – until it hadn’t. Half way through their session, Obi-wan had gotten… distracted… by the sight of his fellow padawan learner, Siri Tachi, wearing a very formfitting, very revealing sleeveless tunic while moving through her Form IV katas. While he was busy ogling, his Master had unsuspectingly landed a blow he hadn’t been able to stop in time. A burn to the thigh, and a trip to the Halls of Healing later earned him an awkward, reproachful lecture on staying “in the here and now” and “pleasures of the flesh,” as well as an extra two hour meditation session to reflect on his actions. She had to have worn that on purpose. The thought popped up unwarranted, ruining his attempts to clear his mind once again. Just to mess with me. Logically, he knew this was probably not the case – plenty of female Jedi wore training tunics in that style – but he was just so mortified to have been caught staring at her in the middle of a busy training room. Obi-wan’s cheeks reddened. Rearranging his legs on the mat, he tried once again to focus and clear his mind. As he had been instructed countless times, he took in a slow deep breath. Drawing the Force in around him, he managed to examine and release his each of his emotions, one by one, into the current of energy around him. His frustration towards his meditation, and embarrassment over the incident with Siri melted away with practiced ease. Having finally completed the first steps, he let his mind go adrift… Even the Force seemed to be unbalanced today, as Obi-wan felt himself coming back into his body much sooner than he expected. He frowned. That was unusual… Frustrated that his attempts at meditation had been anything but refreshing, he opened his eyes and rolled his stiff shoulders. He frowned as he felt one of his notorious “bad feelings” washing over him. Qui-gon often teased him about his “bad feelings,” claiming that his Padawan was so overwhelmingly pessimistic that it sometimes felt the need to exude through his pores (this coming from someone Obi-wan thought was nauseatingly hopeful about everything and everyone he encountered). But every now and then, Obi-wan’s “feelings” proved to be credible premonitions. From his position on the floor, Obi-wan inspected the room with a critical eye, but nothing seemed to jump at out at him as suspicious. He glanced at the chrono on the wall and sighed. Seeing as he hadn’t spent very much time meditating, cooking dinner would probably assuage his Master. Perhaps it would distract him from this nagging feeling that something was wrong. He picked himself up off the floor and straightened his robes before walking into the kitchen at the other end of the room. Opening the refrigeration unit, he studied its contents for a moment before deciding on Nuna and Rodian pepper soup. He made quick work of assembling and preparing the ingredients, and soon had them simmering away in a pot. It was in the midst of slicing a loaf of Qui-gon’s favorite sweet bread that his Master entered through the doorway of their quarters, two datapads in hand. Upon entering the apartment, Qui-gon sniffed the air curiously. “Dinner? You’ve been busy. And look, Nabooian sweet bread,” he teased. “I’m getting the distinct impression you didn’t meditate like I told you to.” Obi-wan shrugged and turned around to face his Master, placing the bread on the table. “I have a bad feeling,” he said as explanation. Qui-gon nodded, setting the datapads on the kitchen table. “Do you think it’s something serious or just a case of the pessimism-sweats?” He rolled his eyes before turning around to stir the soup. “I don’t know yet. It’s not very concrete yet. I figured I’d meditate again in my room after dinner.” “There won’t be any time for that, I’m afraid. I just got back from the Council chambers. We leave at 21:00 for Pantora.” The older man pulled up a chair and helped himself to a slice of the sweet bread. Obi-wan tasted the soup with a spoon before turning off the heat. He walked over to the cupboard and pulled out bowls and spoons, before setting the table. “So soon? We’ve only been back two days.” “With the political climate descending into chaos the way it is, I expect we’ll be spending much less time on Coruscant than we have in the past,” he said gravely. “The Pantoran government wants our assistance in negotiating mining rights between them and Orto Plutonia. It should be cut and dry, but it seems there are other interests at play as well.” He gestured at the datapads on the table. “There’s a dossier for you to go over before we leave.” “Yes, Master.” They ate in comfortable silence, Obi-wan pouring over the datapad on their assignment, and Qui-gon studying what Obi-wan suspected to be one of the man’s beloved holo-dramas. It was only a few hours later that Obi-wan found himself standing on a landing pad with his Master just outside of the Senate District staring at a dilapidated looking Starship class Corellian Runabout L46 with the words The Ta’veren sloppily painted on the hull. The Force roiled uncertainly. IIIIIIIIIIIII Obi-wan’s eyes snapped open as his earlier ‘bad feeling’ exploded into a warning from the Force of imminent danger. He sat up from the bunk he had been sleeping in. He studied the cabin around him, frantically looking for the source of danger. The cramped cabin he and his Master were sharing onboard The Ta’veren was empty except for him. Qui-gon’s sleeping couch was still folded up into the wall, and his pack lay undisturbed in the corner of the room. Stretching out into the Force he sensed his Master on the bridge. Obi-wan scratched his neck and glanced at the chrono on the wall; the ship had only been in hyperspace for 6 hours. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up– the low pitched hummm of the hyperdrive was missing. Strange… he thought. Pantora, their destination, was still a few days out. Frowning, he dressed quickly, attached his belt, and stuffed his feet into his boots siting at the end of the sleepcouch. When he palmed the door to the tiny compartment, he was surprised to see that the darkened hall was entirely empty. Most of the crew had apparently gone to bed for the night. There seemed to be nothing outwardly wrong here either, but the warning of danger continued to pulse in the back of his head. He tugged at the bond he shared with Qui-gon. ‘Why are we out of hyperspace, Master?’ ‘I don’t know, Padawan. The captain is trying to figure that out now. They think the hyperdrive malfunctioned.’ ‘I sense something is wrong. Very wrong...’ 'Agreed. Stay alert.’ He quickly went through the schematics of the ship he’d memorized upon boarding in his head, before turning left towards the Bridge at a fast trot. Letting his body run on autopilot, Obi-wan focused his mind on the warning in the Force. The closer he got to the bridge, the more the warning intensified. Something was about to go terribly wrong, but he couldn’t seem to gleam anything from the Force as to what the danger was. Saboteur on the ship? Unlikely. Master Qui-gon and I are the only ones on the ship who aren’t part of the crew. Besides, no logical motive… Maybe this bucket of bolts is finally coming apart at the seams? He grunted. Too simple. Whatever it is, it’s more than shoddy engineering. Racking his brain, he couldn’t even remember any of his premonitions that had been as severe as this. Without warning, something struck the starboard side of the ship, sending him careening into wall and onto the ground. What in the seven hells was that!? After a brief delay, the ship’s emergency claxons came to life. Covering his ears to block out the angry screeching noise, Obi-wan managed to fish through his belt for his comlink and immediately signaled his Master. “What happened!?” he shouted over the din. Holding the com up to his ear, he managed to make out his Master’s response. “Pirates. They’ve struck the ship and disabled the engines. Are you alright?” “I’m fine,” he voiced. “Pirates, this far into Republic space? What are we going to do? Without engines, we’re sitting ducks out here.” “We don’t have much of a choice but to fight them off.” Obi-wan stared at the comlink in his hand incredulously. Only he would have gotten stuck with a renegade for a Master. He couldn’t be serious… Right? “Fight!? Master, this is a transport, it doesn’t even have any ion cannons. How do you propose to fight them off?” Qui-gon replied quickly. “We’re going to have to let them board the ship. Hopefully, between us and the crew we can overpower them. Meet me at the airlock.” Nothing is ever easy, he thought. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Chapter 2: Attack on the Ta’veren Qui-gon and the Captain, a dark skinned human female whose height could rival that of the man next to her, were huddled together near the airlock controls when Obi-wan rounded the corner. The two were in the middle of a tense conversation, both intermittently nodding and listening to the other in rapt attention.Trying to catch his breath from his run across the ship, Obi-wan deftly weaved through a throng of anxious and jittery crew members towards them.“There you are, Padawan.” Qui-gon said, glancing over at him. He gestured at the Captain. “This is Captain Mora. Captain, my apprentice, Obi-wan Kenobi.”Obi-wan gave her a polite bow and then looked up at his master. “What’s going on?”Captain Mora answered. “Something – probably these bastards – pulled the ship out of hyperspace. They were sitting here waiting for us when we came out. A few minutes later another ship entered real space right between our ass cheeks and disabled the engines before we even had a chance to sneeze,” she said, irritated.“They knew we were coming?” he asked. “How?”Qui-gon opened his mouth to speak, but Mora cut him off. “I know my crew, Master Jedi,” she said, gruffly. “None of them would have done something like this. They may look rough, but they’re a dependable bunch.”Qui-gon sighed and flashed the woman an irritated look. Obi-wan got the sense that they had been arguing about this since he’d commed. “I mean no disrespect to you or your crew, Captain,” he placated. “I’m merely looking at the situation from all angles. It is far more likely that that someone sabotaged the hyperdrive from inside the ship.” She scowled at him, and pulled her thick mane of back hair into a tight ponytail with a spare elastic.“If the saboteur is still on the ship, it could cause problems, Master,” Obi-wan added warily.“Indeed,” Qui-gon replied.Mora huffed, screwed up her face, and folded her arms across her chest. Her discontent was palpable in the Force. “What makes you so sure it’s a saboteur, and not just a pirate raid?”His Master gave him a look, prompting him to answer. Obi-wan chewed at the inside of his cheek, mulling the question over in his head before he answered her.“Well,” he began slowly. “You said it yourself, Captain - they were waiting for us. It’s statistically unlikely that the ship had an engineering malfunction and just so happened to spit us out in a sector that was occupied by pirates. Especially this far into the core – don’t they usually stick to the outer boundaries of Republic space?” He looked up at his Master for confirmation. The older man nodded.“They easily could have just camped out on the space lane and waited for us fly by,” the Captain argued. “There’s tractor beams out there that can pull a ship out of hyperspace. I’ve seen it.”Qui-gon shook his head. “Not possible. From what I saw of the ship, there wasn’t a tractor beam mounted anywhere on the hull. The only pirate ships out there with tractor beams built in are associated with the Hutt clans – and they never come out this far.”“Besides,” Obi-wan chimed in, “in order to pull us out of hyperspace, and not anyone else, they would have to have known our exact trajectory. And in order to do that, they had to know all of the details of our departure, right down to the second we entered hyperspace. Even then, those calculations would be extremely difficult to pull off. But if someone inside the ship sent them our trajectory, it would just be a matter of waiting.”Mora pinched the bridge of her nose. “I get what you’re saying, but I still don’t think it was one of my crew.”The comm embedded in her wrist gauntlet beeped. “Mora,” she snapped. “What is it?” Obi-wan watched as she stepped away from them.He looked up once again at his master. The Jedi was scrutinizing the clumps of men hovering in the hallway, all fingering the blasters at their hips anxiously. A few moved around, stacking crates and creating defensive positions, but the majority stayed still, staring intently at the airlock at the end of the hallway. A realization hit him. As hard as these crew members looked, hardly any of them acted as if they’d ever seen combat before.“How do we plan to fight them off, Master?”Qui-gon gestured at the hallway they were standing, and then at a smaller, intersecting one half way between them and the airlock, before returning his hand to scratch his beard. “I was thinking a standard hammer-and-anvil would be best… Draw them down the main hall, and then come at them from the sides at the junction.”“You don’t think they’ll see through something that simple?”Qui-gon gave him a crooked grin and placed his hand on his shoulder. “People are stupid, Obi-wan. They’ll see what it is they wish to see, either because they want something to be true, or they fear that it is. There’s no logical explanation why they would attack an empty ship coming from Coruscant unless they knew of our mission. Then it would stand that they know there are Jedi on board…“Our reputation proceeds us; people fear Jedi, especially criminals. They’ll be expecting an elaborate plan, so an elaborate plan is what they’ll see. Don’t underestimate them, padawan. But don’t overestimate them either.”Obi-wan smirked, despite the situation. “Something tells me the Crèche Masters wouldn’t be a fan of that particular lesson, Master.”His master chortled. “Master Dooku taught me that.” He paused. “So, no… They definitely would not have approved. They didn’t approve of most of his ‘lessons.’”Captain Mora interrupted them. “That was my head engineer, Guyus. He says the flyby didn’t do as much damage as we had thought. He thinks that with some help we can blast out of here in 30-40 minutes.”“How long until they board the ship?” Obi-wan asked.She shrugged. “Any moment now. We’ll have to hold them off until then.” Her gaze floated to the airlock. They stood in silence for a moment. “Obi-wan,” Qui-gon said quietly, “go see what you can do to help get the ship up and running again…”Obi-wan’s head snapped up at the older man. “What? But don’t you need me here? Besides, I’m terrible at mechanics, Master.”The older man quirked an eyebrow at him. “If there is a saboteur on the ship, they’ll try to make sure the engines stay offline. And your presence – or lack thereof - will provide some distraction for our guests.”Obi-wan frowned. “I suppose that makes sense. But still, I-““Obi-wan,” his Master said gently. He might have spoken softly, but the command in his voice was clear. “Go.”“Yes, Master. If you say so.”“I do.”Obi-wan bowed respectfully. “Yes, Master.”"Obi-wan," Qui-gon called out when he was at the other end of the hallway. Obi-wan turned. "May the Force be with you.""And with you, Master."_____________ Obi-wan climbed through the hatch into the engine room. The room was cramped and grimy, and smelled of synthetic oil and fuel. Master Chaan, his ship engineering teacher as a youngling in the crèche, would have been horrified. A clean engine room is a happy engine room, little ones. Dirtiness is a sign of laziness, and lack of attention to detail. “Guyus?” he called out. “I’m Padawan Kenobi. I’ve been sent to help with the engines.” A brown, scaly head popped out of a gap in the flooring grates, straight ahead. “About kriffin’ time,” the Weequayan cursed. He assumed this must be Guyus, the engineer. “Why’d they send a Jedi? Shouldn’t you be helping keep them pirates from climbing up my asshole?” he snapped. Obi-wan stepped over to the man and knelt down to look into the pit. He noted that the hole was an access area for some of the ship’s mechanical components. “My master will be doing that,” he said diplomatically. “How can I help? Guyus grunted before climbing down to the bottom of the pit. “Hand me a hydrospanner, boy. Not enough room down here for the both of us.” Obi-wan raised an eyebrow, but did as he was bid and reached down into the hole to hand it to him.As he pulled his upper body out of the pit, a boot came into his peripheral vision. He tensed. Someone was standing behind him. This must be our saboteur… he thought. Casually, he reached over and wrapped his fingers around another one of the hydrospanners sitting on the floor. The Force wavered around him – a warning.With a speed humanly impossible without the aid of the Force, Obi-wan swung the hydrospanner back and up, and caught his assailant in the groan. The figure yelped loudly and staggered back.He took the opportunity to jump up and turn around to face his would be attacker. He called his lightsaber to his hands as he did and ignited it.The dark haired man, human, was bent over grabbing at his crotch in pain. A blaster lay by his feet. “You’ll pay for that, you cunt,” he panted angrily. Obi-wan focused his mind and held out his hand to direct the blaster out of the man’s reach. A hand suddenly wrapped around his ankle and yanked hard. Guyus! Caught off balance without enough time to react, he fell face first into the grates. His lightsaber bounced out of his hands when he hit the floor and he smacked his chin against the metal of the grate. Before he even had a chance to lift his neck, something thin and metal smashed against the back of his head. Unconsciousness sped up to meet him. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Chapter 3: Anakin Skywalker He definitely had a concussion. Severe headache, loss of consciousness, nausea. He cracked an eye open, before shutting it again. Sensitivity to light… Obi-wan let himself lay there for a few minutes, and tried to recollect his mental faculties before attempting to reopen his eyes. He groaned into the cold metal floor underneath him and brought his hand up to rub the sore spot on the back of his head. Next to him, he heard a fearful intake of breath and a sharp shuffling sound as someone quickly backed away. He tensed. He wasn’t alone. Gently as he could, he lifted his headand turned it towards the origin of the noise. A little boy, dressed in a filthy tunic, was pressed into the corner of the small, windowless room, watching him fearfully. Obi-wan let himself relax. Just a kid, he thought. And a small one at that. “Hello there,” he mumbled, stretching his legs out on the floor. The boy tried to scoot further back into the wall, but could gain no purchase. Realizing he was cornered, the boy let out a quiet whimper. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you,” Obi-wan said kindly. He sat up gingerly. “I’m a Jedi.” The boy didn’t respond, just continued to watch him, warily. Obi-wan’s stomach rolled uncertainly as he lifted his arm to check the back of his head for blood. Finding nothing, he let his arm fall back down. “My name is Obi-wan. What’s yours?” The boy continued to watch him. It was unnerving. Obi-wan mentally berated himself for being made uncomfortable by a toddler. At least what he thought was a toddler – the boy was very small. He didn’t have a lot of experience with little kids. Whenever he helped in the crèche it was always with the older children. He gave the kid a look over. If he was on the pirates’ ship – which seemed the most logical assumption based on the events that had led to him being smashed in the back of the head with a hydrospanner – the boy in front of him was probably a slave. Oh great. I’m on a slave ship…He couldn’t think of anyother reason a kid as young as this one would be the ship. And it would account for how dirty he was. His pale skin looked covered in dirt and sand, both of which blended into his tunic and trousers. Even his hair was caked in sand. The only thing that really stood out were his eyes – bright blue, and sharp. The kid was smarter than he probably let on. Deciding to change tactics, he reached down to his belt (which he was surprised they’d kept on him, even if they had confiscated his lightsaber) and plucked off a silver food capsule. He held it out to the boy. “Are you hungry?” The blue eyes watching him narrowed in a combination of confusion and suspicion. Obi-wan wiggled the silver tube in between his fingers. “You look hungry. Here. It’s food – it’s not great, but it’s food.” The boy assessed the situation, glancing back and forth between the shiny food capsule and the strange man attached to it. Very slowly, he unfolded himself and leaned forward. Pausing half way, to make sure Obi-wan gave no indication of moving, the boy grabbed the food capsule out of his hand, and quickly scrambled back into his corner. Obi-wan watched for a moment as the kid started frantically unscrewing the capsule before resting his pounding head on the cool metal wall behind him and closing his eyes. If he really was on the pirates’ ship, then he was pretty well screwed, he decided. With no information to go on, his master would be hard pressed to find him. He fingered the heavy collar around his neck. Step one of getting off this ship would getting rid of the Force-suppression collar. If Master Qui-gon was close enough, maybe he could reach out to with their bond… “Thank you.” Obi-wan opened his eyes again and looked over at the boy. “You’re welcome,” he replied, surprised at the speed in which the kid had eaten the food capsule. Although he didn’t know why he was surprised. The kid looked half-starved. “I’m Anakin,” the boy mumbled after a few moments. Obi-wan opened his eyes again and gave the boy a friendly smile. “Hello, Anakin… Do you know where we are?” Anakin shrugged and licked protein powder off his fingers. “On a ship. We’re going to Nar Shadaa.” “Nar Shadaa?” Anakin shrugged again. “That’s what the others said.” “There’s others on this ship?” The boy nodded. “I was in there, in the hold with the other slaves. Then they put me in here. It was warmer in there…” As if on que, Anakin shivered and brought his knees to his chest. Obi-wan frowned. “Why did they put you in here?” Anakin didn’t respond, just sniffed. Deciding to let it drop, Obi-wan rearranged his legs into the Lotus position. Even if he didn’t have access to the Force, meditation would help him clear his mind. A question popped into his head before he could settle in. “Anakin? Where are your parents? Are they in the hold with the others?” The boy’s lip quivered violently, before burying his face in his knees. “I don wanna talk about it,” he said into his legs.
10235870	All Night	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Mindy Lahiri, Danny Castellano", "Fandom": "The Mindy Project", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by city_bright", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "1,183", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": "Danny Castellano/Mindy Lahiri", "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 }	Mindy tried, she really did, and she’d fight anyone who says she didn’t. She stepped into the stay at home mom role Danny wanted her to fill. She cooked, cleaned, took care of their child, voiced her opinions less, and became everything he wanted her to be. It was what he wanted, so she did it. It didn’t rock the boat, but it bent her into someone she didn’t recognize when she looked in the mirror. She felt stifled, and she was never one to be boxed in by anyone. She was scared when he left for California because then she would have to be a single working mom. But after she got the hang of things, she felt the most empowered she had ever felt. She knew she could be a doctor and be an amazing mother to her son. She didn’t need to choose one over the other, and she couldn’t wait for Danny to come back from California and tell him that.He felt betrayed, said he didn’t even recognize themselves or their relationship anymore. She didn’t either at this point, but at least she was willing to work on it. Why couldn’t he see her, that this was what she wanted? He responded with his go-to explanation of how his father left him at a young age, was left to fend for himself and his brother and how he doesn’t want the same for Leo. She shook her head and reassured him that Leo is going to be perfectly fine and that the situation was different. She called him out on his bullshit, getting angrier by the second at his unwillingness to see her point of view, his inability to open his mind for even a second, his excuses. After what he had done, he doesn’t get to tell her that she’s making bad decisions when she was the one who was raising their child by herself. He doesn’t get to dictate what’s best for Leo and for them when he was away in California for months. He doesn’t get to tell her to give up her career when he’s not willing to give up his.Everything seemed to spiral out of control after that, and she saw their future together disappear in front of her eyes. She remembered Danny once told her not to let anyone stop her from doing what she wants, not even him. Taking his advice, she decided to leave him. The numbness kept her up at night, and her heart was broken, but it was for the best for her and Leo. She dreamt that one day he would realize how he can change the story of his past, that it’s possible for this cycle to be broken, that she’ll never be who he wanted her to be. In the meantime, she couldn’t let this bring her down. She had Leo to take care of after all. She worked as hard as she has ever worked to support herself and her son. It was tiring and difficult, and she wanted to scream into oblivion most nights, but she told herself that it’d be worth it. She and Leo would be all right without Danny, that she knew. She always had a way of making the best of every situation, and this won’t be any different.They've moved forward and met again, though not under the best circumstances. They met back in Leo’s school principal’s office, bickering and fighting over the same old problems. "I guess nothing has changed," she told herself.Of course, they got stuck in an elevator because her life just had to be dramatic. It wasn’t smooth sailing at first because the last thing Mindy needed was to be stuck in an elevator with her ex with anger and daddy issues. But they got to talking, telling each other about the people they’ve went out with. Months ago, she wouldn’t have been able to hear about the women he's dated, but it didn’t sting as much as she thought it would. She wasn’t sure what made her do it, but she told him about the time she followed him around the city, running errands and helping an elderly woman. She was reminded of why she loved him, she told him.He told her about Jody and the letter he wrote to her, asking her if anything ever materialized between them. She replied with a no, claiming that they’re not right for each other. She felt herself getting warmer, not quite sure if it was because of their increasing proximity to each other or if it was the unspoken agreement that they were right for each other, in their own weird way. “What about you? Did anything ever get serious with the girls you were dating?” She saw the gears turning in his head, the microscopic changes in his facial expression. She asked, “Danny, what are you thinking?”, and everything started to move in slow motion. She felt him invading her space, the tingling sensation crash over her body in anticipation, and the warmth of his breath on her lips. And then it all came crashing down when his lips met with hers, one hand cradling her face, the other pulling her closer.It was different, new, and familiar all at the same time. There was a moment when she felt an aching pang in her heart, that maybe this wasn’t the right decision, and maybe falling back into him would do more harm than good, but with every kiss, she felt herself being put back together again, little by little. His hands roamed over her body, leaving a hot trail that burned her skin, even under the material of her dress. He took her breath away like he always did, and it was everything she remembered and more. Her mind was blissfully hazy as the pleasure he had created consumed her, flooding her senses and washing away the sorrows she didn’t know she was carrying.They walked side by side down the street just like they used to. It was nice, and she had missed the ease they have with each other and, quite frankly, she had missed them. They stood right outside her apartment to say their goodbyes and promise to see each other again. She’s not sure when or how, but they’re gonna start over. She’s hopeful that they’ll both end up okay, and that was more than she can say 5 months ago, so she takes it.She turned back to call out his name, and he looked up at her with that smile and those eyes that she could never resist. “I love you,” she said, and she meant it, plain and simple. He will always be in her life, what they had was great, and maybe there is something greater waiting for them down the road. He has things he needs to work on, and so does she if she’s honest, but she absolutely loves him. He is the love of her life, and when he says “I love you too,” she knows she’s his too.
10269245	A God Among Men	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Heavy (Team Fortress 2), Medic (Team Fortress 2)", "Fandom": "Team Fortress 2", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by paintpaw", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "1,101", "Additional Tags": "Headcanon, Jewish Character, Religion", "Relationship": "Heavy/Medic (Team Fortress 2)", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "TF2 Fanfiction, Jewish Characters", "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 }	Heavy wouldn’t call himself a religious man, not anymore. He’d shed that title long ago. It hadn’t protected him or his family. It hadn’t protected his father.He’d found a kinship with Medic, who’d gone through a similar process. He’d lived through a similar oppression, with a similar dictator in a similar country. Yet Medic had reached a different outcome, he’d found a different conclusion. He was happy and carefree. He said that the past was the past and that not even he could change it. Heavy wished he could think like that.Medic had announced his religion on the first day, the moment he felt wary eyes upon him. They were like two sides of the same coin. They’d started out the same but ended as opposites, opposites that complimented each other perfectly. Their world views where different yet they shared that same gory sense of humour. Heavy found that he trusted Medic with everything, and nobody knew why. Not even Heavy himself.Medic was new and fresh. A great splash of colour and excitement in an otherwise boring and depressed world.Once, Heavy had asked why Medic kept his patients awake during surgery, the answer was simple:“I like someone to talk to. I can’t work when it’s quiet.”Medic was a social man. He’d talk to anyone and anything.From then on Heavy had become a companion of sorts, he’d sit in the infirmary as Medic worked and would listen to him rattle off about his experiments. Heavy had always had an interest in the sciences. Not an interest that compelled him to study them; just one that made him ask questions about what Medic was doing.Back when he was still in university, Heavy had taken a course in healthcare. His mother had fallen sick and he’d convinced himself that he’d be her caregiver. The illness faded but Heavy’s knowledge did not, and when Heavy had reached for the correct tools that Medic had asked for, the doctor’s ecstatic smile had blessed him.With every new cadaver that entered the lab, Heavy showed concern. He did not approve of meaningless or unfair death. He knew that Medic did not fight fair. He was concerned about the death of innocent lives that he may have been condoning.“How did he die?” Heavy asked one day.Medic blinked owlishly, ripped from the excitement of his experiment. He looked over his glasses at Heavy, then back down at the body. The man was caucasian, blond haired and wearing a bloodied shirt and tie.“I heard someone calling for help in an alleyway. He had this woman pinned against the wall. She ran away screaming when I got to him.” He’d said.Medic looked back up at Heavy, he was proud of himself. Heavy was proud of him too.Now with every new body, Medic would tell a story. A story where he was the hero who’d vanquished evil. Where he was justice. Where he was right. Medic would not lie to him, he’d admitted just as much in a fit of frustration. That Heavy was the only man that he couldn’t elude.“He tried to rob me at gunpoint. Dummkopf. ”“Oh, you should have heard the things she was calling our Demoman, disgraceful. But, he was too drunk to really notice. So I took care of her for him.”“They threatened to come after everyone I cared about. I had to protect my birds. Oh and you too, my friend.”It was as though someone had told him, somewhere in his messy childhood, that he should hit back twice as hard if someone hurt him. Medic viewed himself as a punisher. He’d said that God hadn’t done a good enough job of it. That God had let millions of Medic’s people die and the doctor just wouldn’t stand for it. He would do the job himself.He felt no guilt because, in his mind, he was doing the right thing.The literal skeleton in his closet belonged to a Nazi.“He didn’t deserve to live happily ever after.” Many, including members of his own team, would pin Medic as a man who was unfeeling and distant. A man who had bored his wife and only cared for a flock of pigeons; manipulating anyone and everyone. A perfect example of an affectionless psychopath. Heavy knew different.Heavy had sat through many of Medic’s mood swings and violent outburst. His discharges of energy and his crash of emotions. He’d find Medic climbing the rafters of the infirmary to coo over some baby doves. Then that same day, not even two hours later, he’d be on his knees beside a failed experiment. Weeping over days gone by and things that were out of his control.The faster you’re going the harder you crash. And Medic’s mind was always going at full speed.It was then that Heavy realised that Medic was not a god of bevelance or omniscient like certain others. He was more a Greek god. One who laughed and cried; one who got angry and one who made mistakes.He walked among his mortals with fascination in his eyes.Medic would cry often. He claimed that it was good for the body and psyche. Heavy had been told long ago that men didn’t cry, that the strong never cry. He believed that he had to be strong for his family and for Medic. But Medic was a strong man. They never spoke of his episodes, Heavy pretended that they never happened while Medic seemed to forget them entirely.After a particularly bad breakdown, Heavy held Medic close to his chest. He didn’t know how long they’d stood there or what had even started it. His mind was blank as he rubbed circles on the other man’s back. Medic was mumbling in a language that Heavy could only half remember. Something to do with God.It felt like hours before Medic pulled away. Not out of Heavy’s arms, just far away enough to look at him with teary eyes. He smiled and patted Heavy’s cheek.“You know, I could make us live forever.”Medic was well aware of Heavy’s fears. Death was a big one. He feared what he’d leave behind. He feared what he would become. He feared what was waiting for him.“Forever.” Heavy echoed.“Yes yes, or for as long as you want. Just say the word and I’ll do it.”“What word?” Medic ignored Heavy’s confusion, “You and I, we could be gods.” He whispered like a prayer.Heavy didn’t miss a beat, “One of us already is.”
10289825	Honour Among Rogues and	{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": null, "Characters": "Original Asari Character(s), Original Male Turian Character(s), Original Quarian Character(s), Original Female Turian Character(s), Original Mass Effect Character(s), Garrus Vakarian, Female Shepard (Mass Effect), Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, Liara T'Soni", "Fandom": "Mass Effect", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by IgniteThePyre", "chapters": "1/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-14T00:00:00", "words": "2,060", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Timelines, Quarians, Asari Characters, Action/Adventure, Fluff and Angst", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "F/F, F/M, M/M, Other", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Pale sunlight shone brightly through the windows of the ship, highlighting the flecks of dust that flew lazily in the air and spilling an orange pool across the grubby cargo crates, hanging nets and stray scrap metal that lined the corridors. Figures came and went, rushing about their personal affairs, stepping around and over the obstacles absent-mindedly as if it were second nature, their soft murmurs echoing down the hallways, quiet discussions and gentle laughs. A reminder that you’re never truly alone on this overcrowded ship.However, one figure sat unmoved, perched delicately on top of a dusty crate, leaning their back against the wall, one leg propped up next to her and the other hanging down, swaying back and forth slightly. The blazing sun carved out the features of a slender, young female Quarian, her dark grey suit shimmered dully in the vivid light, the intricate pattern of black stripes and swirls catching the glare. Her emerald green visor glowed gently in areas that weren’t covered by a light green hood over hanging her helmet. Her glowing white eyes were fixed intently on the speakers of the intercom on the wall opposite.Waiting.The Quarian groaned impatiently, glancing down uninterestedly at the tube of food paste she held in her hand, passing it skilfully between her fingers. She sighed lightly, the pale brown nutrient paste didn’t look any more appetising now than it did the past thousand times she’d eaten it, at least it was proving to be more interesting as an object of fiddling.“I just need to wait a bit longer” she thought to herself. She turned her head slightly to look out the window, observing the debris of meteor fragments outside, seemingly suspended in a sea of dust.“I wonder what gift he brought back?” Ships from the Migrant Fleet flew close, gliding gently through space, cutting through the radiant sun’s glare and casting shadows through the window. She lent her head in her hand and watched. “Whatever it is, it’s got the Admiralty Board excited.” “Taff’iir?”“WHA-!?” Taff’iir shrieked and jumped, losing her balance and slipping off the edge of the cargo crate, falling ungraciously onto the floor with a loud thud, sending the tube of food paste hurtling through the air only to promptly land next to the feet of the culprit who had snuck up on her. Taff’iir peered over the crate to see a much older female Quarian, her suit sporting colours very similar to her own. Her white eyes were narrowed in amusement as she looked at the younger Quarian heaped on the floor.“I’m sorry Taff, I didn’t mean to scare you!” she laughed softly.“Mother! I didn’t see you there!” Taff leapt up to her feet, and quickly leant against a crate in a desperate attempt to coolly play off her spectacular fall, but with her askew suit, newly imprinted with oil stains, hood pulled down over her eyes and buckles twisted, she was incredibly thankful for her visor hiding her face, as it grew hotter with embarrassment by the second.“Hmm.” Her mother hummed, stepping forward to adjust Taff’s hood and untwist her belt buckles, before stepping back and holding Taff’iir’s hands in front of her, her eyes growing slightly serious.“You really should’ve heard me coming. You start your Pilgrimage next week, and out there, it’s not going to be me sneaking up on you” she looked sternly at Taff, before pulling her in for a warm hug.Taff returned the embrace, rising to her tiptoes to reach over her mother’s shoulders. Her mother was much taller than she was, and wore a suit that was similar to hers, but was much more pretty and sophisticated than her own, sporting silver buckles and seals, as well as a luxurious side cape that hung gracefully over her right shoulder. It suited her personality. When Taff stood next to her, she was acutely aware of how grimy her stained and tattered suit was in comparison. It seems like her clothes suited her rough and tumble personality also.Taff pulled away from her mother and ducked her head in shame.“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’ve just been waiting for ages; the Admiralty Board is supposed to be here any minute to present the new member’s gift.” She raised her head and started pacing excitedly “He must’ve worked hard on his Pilgrimage to find whatever he’s got, it must be something important to cause a reaction like this.”Her mother looked upwards, her hand rising to touch the bottom of her helmet thoughtfully.“I really hope so. Ancestors know we could do with some good news right now. I’m sure we won’t have to wait much longer, it would be unprofessional of the Admiralty Board to arrive late.”“Besides-“ Taff started, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, “This might be my last chance to see dad before I leave.”Her mother looked back at her, a mixture of sympathy and concern shone in her eyes as she picked up Taff’s hands again.“Taff’iir, I know you want to see him but you must understand, being the captain of the Admiralty Board Guard is an incredibly important position, he must stay by their side at all times.” Her eyes clouded with worry “He might not be able to say goodbye to you.”Taff dropped her head and sighed. She already knew this, all too well actually. She had barely gotten to see her father growing up, and could probably count on two hands the amount of times she was able to see him, but each time she recalled happy memories of the precious time they spent together. Taff smiled to herself, as she recalls being sat on her father’s knee when she was very young, watching intently as he cleaned out his pistol, and him laughing deeply as she held the precious metal components in her hands, awe shining in her eyes.Another memory she held close was his surprise visit on the 8th anniversary of her birth cycle. He had handed down to her a package, which she eagerly took. After unwrapping, she squealed with delight as her father stood proudly behind her and her mother gasped in horror. He’d only went and bought her the new M-92 Mantis sniper rifle, scaled down to her size of course, much to her mother’s dismay. Oh, she will never forget the telling off her father received.“She’s too young to be handling guns!” her mother would say exasperatedly. He father tried to look solemn and regretful, but Taff could see that the glint in the side eye he gave her that it was definitely worth it. He would kneel beside her, teaching her how to aim with a scope and letting her practice on glass bottles in the shooting range, laughing heartily as she hit each target, sending fragments of glass exploding into the air.“You’re a natural Taff! If the fleet is ever invaded by glass bottles, I’ll know who to call for backup!” he smiled and lifted her into the air, making her laugh and shout with glee. But eventually, he always had to leave, it was his duty to be with the Admiralty Board as often as possible to protect them as they represented the Quarian people on various matters. But he always promised to be back soon.“Next time I see you Taff, we’re having a shooting competition and I’m expecting a challenge” he grinned, giving a weeping Taff’iir a final hug before leaving. “You’re going to give me a run for my credits with the way you’re going with that rifle.”Taff smiled sadly to herself as she reminisced, she still had that old rifle, beaten and scratched to hell, but it was her first gun, there was no way she could throw it out. It was far too precious to her. It reminded her of him.However, growing up without him around didn’t matter to her too much, she thought. Her dad was captain of the Admiralty Board Guard! He was chosen to receive such a prestigious title, only the most intelligent, loyal and military-wise Quarians are even considered to be allowed to join the Guard, never mind lead it! He was the top law enforcer in the Migrant Fleet, dedicated to protecting the Board and the Fleet, even at the cost of his life. Taff’iir was well-known as the Captain’s daughter, which also came with special privileges such as exclusive access to the shooting range, even though she was very much under the age restriction at the time.Taff had to admit, it did feel good to receive special treatment because of her father’s position, but it never came with the one privilege that she had so desperately wished for: friends. Turns out that’s something you had to do by yourself. Back in school, Taff didn’t have any special treatment among her peers. She was just a small, awkward kid who tried her best to get along with others, which she did succeed at with the quieter pupils, but it seemed like she was much better at making enemies as she was constantly getting into scraps trying to defend the shy kids from being taunted by bullies. But even defending them wasn’t a good enough reason for them to befriend her, they were too scared of what would happen to them when she wasn’t around. But the fights didn’t dishearten her, in fact it made her prouder. She wanted to be just like her father and help protect the innocent and defenceless, even if she got nothing from it in the end.Taff’iir would spend countless hours scouring the extranet for news stories of her father’s work, reading news articles on how he had captured and arrested various dangerous criminals, those guilty of murder, drug trafficking and robbery, helping the Fleet stay a safe place for the Quarians. That’s the kind of person she wanted to be, she would think as her eyes shone. Watching him serve justice to those who’ve wronged, and protecting those in need filled her with a sense of determination. That’s what she wanted to do. That was her plan. She wanted to get smart, learn how to handle her rifle properly, and after her Pilgrimage, apply to train for the Admiralty Guard Training Program. She wanted to help bring justice and protect her people, just like her father. Her heart was set.Every day she woke up, grabbed the rifle her father had gifted her, and spent her days in the shooting range. Over and over she practiced, bottle after bottle exploding as her speed and accuracy improved. Taff spent most of her childhood here, seeing as her school antics didn’t result in many friends. But it didn’t matter.“Joining the Guard is much more important than having friends anyway”, she’d tell herself, as she walked alone to her school, and sat by herself during class. The Admiralty Guard Training Program only lets in the best marksmen. “It will all be worth it in the end”.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------“Taff? You okay there? You’re not usually this quiet.”Taff snapped back into reality, looking up to see her mother staring at her, head cocked and confusion gleaming in her white eyes.“Ah, yeah, sorry!” Taff laughed, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly “I was just thinking.” She smiled, wasted as it was behind her visor, as her mother mistook her for being upset.“Taff, please don’t be upset, you know he- “Her mother’s unnecessary consolation was suddenly interrupted by a loud voice sounding over the intercom, instantly stealing Taff’s attention. “Attention Quarians of the Nahlon, the Admiralty Board has arrived on board and the meeting will commence in the ships Atrium within the next half solar hour.” Taff brighten up, shifting excitedly on the spot “Finally! Now we get to see what the big fuss is about!” and without missing a beat, she started to sprint toward the atrium, leaping over the cargo crates in her haste. “C’mon, let’s go!” she shouted to her mother over her shoulder, not waiting for an answer. Seeing what the new crew member has brought was the main reason for her excitement, but she knew there was an equally important secondary objective at hand. “I really hope I get to say goodbye to him.”
10291130	Stranded klance	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron)", "Fandom": "Voltron: Legendary Defender", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Fandom_trashie", "chapters": "1/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-14T00:00:00", "words": "4,406", "Additional Tags": "klance, Stranded, Angst, Sort Of, not really tho, a little fluff, injured, Anxiety", "Relationship": "Keith/Lance (Voltron)", "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 }	To say the least, Lance HATED getting thrown out of unstable wormholes. Princess Allura had been pushing herself too hard for the whole day, and couldn't keep the latest wormhole stable and each paladin had gotten thrown out at various, unknown locations. This was the second time it had happened to them. Last time he had been with Hunk, but he wasn't sure this time if anyone else was with him.Lance sighed as he tried to get up from his seat, but flinched and fell back into his seat from the pain in his chest and head. 'Great.' He thought to himself, 'Just great.'Lance eventually managed to crawled out of his lion with great effort and collapsed on the rocky terrain of the planet he had crashed on. He rolled himself onto his back and stared up at the purple tinted alien sky, hoping it wouldn't be too long before someone found him.He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but he was exhausted and couldn't really do anything else in his current state, so he let his subconscious take control.*Keith crawled out of his banged up lion after he had been thrown out of the wormhole like everyone else, looking around at the landscape on the planet he crashed on. It was extremely rocky terrain, with some alien vegetation scattered around here and there. The sky was a light purple tinge, and two moons could be seen to the left of the horizon. A light wind was whistling around the rocks and he could see what seemed to resemble clouds in the far horizon.He was about to set up a camp by his lion to wait until it was working again when he noticed smoke coming from behind a small hill in the distance and wondered if perhaps someone else had also crashed on the same planet.Keith decided the only way to find out was to go have a look, so he started making his way towards the smoke."Wha- Lance!" Keith called when he got to the top of a hill and saw the smoking blue lion and the blue and white figure lying in front of it. His heart crept into his throat as he feared the worst and broke into a run down the hill towards the blue paladin.Keith kneeled next to Lance, gently shaking his shoulders, "Whoa, Lance! Hey, wake up! Lance!""Hrmph, hey! Keith?" Lance grumbled and Keith let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't realized that he'd been holding his breath."Are you hurt?" Keith questioned, looking Lance up and down. He was pretty banged up.Lance tried to sit up, but yelped and laid back down. "Yeah, I think so.""Where?"Lance pointed to a spot on his lower chest, and then at his head."I'm always stuck with the injured ones." Keith mumbled to himself, "You probably broke a rib." he said, louder, then moved to take off Lance's helmet to inspect his head.Lance swatted his hand away, "Hey! I can still do things myself." He half-heartedly glared at Keith, who just raised up his hands in surrender, leaning back on his heals."Fine." Keith said as he watched Lance.Lance winced in pain as soon as he raised his left arm, most likely aggravating the broken rib. He tried removing the helmet with just one hand, failing miserably and mumbling inaudible things to himself.Keith rolled his eyes as he gently grabbed Lance's wrist and moved his hand away, "You obviously can't do this by yourself, so I'm helping."Lance grumbled something inaudible as Keith removed the helmet then started feeling his head for bumps and looking for any blood. Lance hissed in pain when Keith touched a certain spot, and he found a good sized bump on his head there."It looks like you hit your head pretty hard. You probably have a concussion." Keith concluded, looking down at Lance who glared back up at him sarcastically."Gee thanks, I hadn't already assumed that myself."Keith rolled his eyes again as he sat back, surveying the area around them. He hadn't gotten much of a look of their immediate surroundings once he had rounded the hill."Help me sit up."Keith looked at him, "Lance, I don't think you shou-""Either help me, or I'll do it myself." Lance cut him off, moving his arms to try and support himself just to prove his point.Keith sighed, moving to help Lance up. It was obvious that the stubborn boy would just injure himself even more if he tried to move himself, so Keith figured that he didn't have much of a choice but to help him.After he had successfully helped Lance in propping himself up against a rock, Keith sat back down across from Lance, and looked up at the still slightly smoking blue lion behind Lance, sighing."So." Lance started after a moment, looking at Keith, "We're stranded.""I noticed.""Well, what are we going to do about it?""There's nothing we CAN do. At least not until our lions are working again." Keith stated, looking over at Lance, "And you're not in any condition to be doing anything anyways."Lance pouted, and Keith almost thought the expression was cute. Though he quickly erased the thought from this mind."I hate this." Lance muttered, picking up a rock and tossing it."Look, I don't like this anymore than you do, but complaining won't make our situation any better.""Says who? Complaining makes me feel better, so I'm going to complain all I want." He pouted some more.Keith rolled his eyes again as he leaned back on a rock to look up at the darkening sky. He yawned, only just realizing how exhausted he was from the events of the day."I'm going to rest, we can see if there's anything we can do tomorrow." Keith said, adjusting himself to a more comfortable position against a rock. "Don't go anywhere."This time it was Lance's turn to roll his eyes, "Seeing as I can't even remove my helmet without help I don't think I'll be going anywhere." He grumbled "It's not as if there's anywhere to go around here anyways.""Whatever." Keith muttered as he closed his eyes.Lance woke up with a scream after having a bad nightmare. It was still rather dark out when he awoke. Keith had jumped up immediately after hearing Lance's scream, "What? What happened?" He asked, his bayard already in his hand and activated as he looked at Lance.Lance covered his face with his hands, trying to shake off the disturbing images he had seen. It wasn't uncommon for him to have nightmares when in tense or stressful situations such as this one. His anxiety and fears would become real in the shape of nightmares. But this one had been particularly bad. "Lance," Keith said, lowering himself down next to him and he cautiously and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "What is it?" "N- nothing. Just a nightmare." He mumbled, not raising his head. He didn't want Keith to see the tears that were so close to trickling down his cheeks. He wasn't used to having people other then Hunk, usually, be concerned about him after a nightmare. Lately he'd always be alone when he woke up with one. Keith continued to watch him with concern lacing his features, but didn't pry as he reassuringly patted Lance's shoulder. "Sorry." Lance muttered almost half an hour later when he finally raised his head to look at Keith. "What for?" Keith asked, "It wasn't your fault." "I- I know, but it always happens w- when--" he didn't get to finish his sentence before his stomach growled loudly and he blushed at the sound, embarrassed.Keith stood up and Lance watched him walk towards the blue lion, "What are you doing?" He called after him, slightly panicking as the memory of his dream came flooding back."I'm going to get the food rations from your lion, I'll be right back, don't worry." Keith called back over his shoulder."I- I wasn't worried." Lance grumbled to himself, feeling vulnerable and emotional. He hated the nightmares that happened so often lately, they always left him feeling scared and lonely, and he was embarrassed that he had had a slight meltdown in front of Keith. A cold wind had started up and Lance wished he had more protection from it.Suddenly a shadow passed over Lance's face and he looked up to see Keith handing him a small package of dried green space goo."Thanks." Lance muttered as he took the package and opened it.Keith sat down next to him and looked off to the horizon, "I'm going to go back to the red lion, see if I can get it working again.""You're just going to leave me here by myself?" Lance asked, trying not to panic at the thought. Keith looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "What's wrong?" He asked. Lance looked up sharply, "Nothing, I just thought.... never mind, you go off to your lion." "I'll be back before it gets dark." Keith reassured him as he got up, setting down the rest of the rations near Lance. "Only eat what you need, we don't know how long we'll be here."Keith started to walk away, and Lance watched him, trying to convince himself that it would be alright, he wouldn't be left alone for that long. Keith would come back. "If something happens call me over the comm." Keith called over his shoulder as he walked farther away.Lance only silently watched Keith as he disappeared behind a hill. He was alone.Lance didn't think he'd miss Keith's company as much as he did. He didn't think his anxiety would kick in so badly and he'd get so panicky. He didn't call Keith over the comm, though, no matter how many times he wanted to. But Lance had to continually remind himself that it wouldn't be that long. Keith would be back soon. He sat against the rocks hugging his arms to himself and shivering as it got colder, counting the minutes until Keith's return.It was well past the time when it got dark on the planet when Keith finally returned. Lance was just starting to really freak out that he might really be alone. He might die here, alone. Maybe Keith had died. Fear after fear crept into his mind, and he clamped his eyes shut, trying to think of anything else.Lance heard footsteps approaching and relief washed over him as he saw Keith walking down the hill.Once Keith had reached the bottom of the hill he sat down a couple feet away from Lance, breathing heavily from the long walk."You said you'd be back before dark." Lance said quietly, trying to hide the relief he felt that Keith had finally returned, offering him a package of food, figuring he must be hungry.Keith refused the food. "I got lost on the way there. Once I found the red lion there wasn't much I could do, it's pretty beat up. We'll just have to wait for them to wake up by themselves I guess. I'm going to go back in a day or two." He explained, "And then it took longer then I expected to walk back.""Oh." Lance said, "Well, I'm glad you're back.""You missed me?" Keith smirked at him.Lance's cheeks felt hot and he was glad that Keith couldn't see it in the dark. "I missed having you here to complain to." He said quickly, looking away from Keith. He wasn't going to admit that he had freaked out the whole time while he was gone."Ah." Keith said thoughtfully before changing the subject to something less uncomfortable. "How's your head?""It just feels like a really bad headache." Lance shrugged it off."And your rib?""Why do you care? Are you worried about me?" This time it was Lance's turn to look smug, forgetting about his fears and anxiety.Keith responded quickly, not missing a beat. "If you die, we'll have lost the blue paladin of Voltron and I'll get blamed for it since I'm here with you. So I have to check in with you every now and then and make sure you're not dead." Keith said with a hint of sarcasm in the last bit."So what you're trying to say is, you're worried about me.""You missed me while I was gone," Keith said, raising an eyebrow at Lance, "and you were obviously relieved when I came back."Lance didn't say anything. He didn't want Keith to ask any questions if he said too much, so he just rested his head on a rock, ignoring Keith. "Oh." Lance heard Keith say quietly. It seemed as if the red paladin had just figured something out. "It's fine." Lance said abruptly, before Keith could say anything else or ask any questions, "I'm going to go to sleep." Keith didn't respond.*Keith woke up at what he assumed was early morning, as it was still rather dark. He looked over at Lance and noticed with surprise that he was shivering. He knit his eyebrows together in concern. It would be a while before it was light enough for him to go look for things to build a fire with and there wasn't anything else Keith could do that he could think of so he leaned his head back and looked at the stars, hoping the rest of the team would somehow find them soon as he waited for the dawn.Once it was light enough to see what he was doing, Keith got up to look for some dry vegetation to build a fire with. It wasn't hard to find stuff that was dead and dry, as it seemed that it wasn't often that there was rainfall- or this planet's equivalent to rain -and he was back long before Lance woke up.He laid out the stuff he gathered and set to work building a small fire. He had it burning pretty good within the next few minutes so he sat down and watched Lance sleep, smiling to himself when the blue paladin stopped shivering and became more relaxed. Keith stopped himself. He did not have feelings for Lance. No way. They were just friends. Heck, he wasn't even sure if that was true. And there was no way Lance had feelings for him anyways, he was definitely straight. Though Keith did admit to himself, he did want to try and make Lance comfortable. Keith hadn't known that Lance had such bad nightmares and anxiety before. Of course, how could he have known? It's not like Lance made it obvious. And even though Lance hadn't actually said anything, Keith could tell there was something bothering Lance after he had woken up from the nightmare.He sighed as he picked up a package of the food rations, slowly eating it as he watched the flames and tried not to think about how he felt towards Lance. He figured that those feelings would only get him hurt in the end.Keith hadn't realized how much time had passed until he noticed that it had gotten quite a bit brighter. He figured it was probably late morning. Lance was still sleeping, and seeing no need to wake him, Keith let him rest.It seemed to be early afternoon when Lance finally woke up.Lance yawned as he stretched his legs out, "Good morning." He mumbled, rubbing his eyes."I think you mean good afternoon." Keith said, placing more fuel in his small fire.Lance looked at him, confused "What? How long have I been sleeping?"Keith looked up at him, "Almost the whole day, it'll be dark in a few hours." He said as he tossed Lance half a package of rations, "Did you sleep well?""Yeah, I guess so. How long have you had this fire going?" Lance asked, evidently trying to change the subject from how he slept.Keith noticed that and went with it, "Since early this morning, you were shivering so I thought I'd make a fire.""Aw, you really do care about me!" Lance said sarcastically, placing his hand on his heart.Keith rolled his eyes, but at least it seemed like Lance was doing better."I'm going to get up." Lance stated after nearly fifteen minutes of silence, "I wanna look around.""Lance, you can't get up- hey!" Keith jumped up as Lance attempted to lift himself off the ground, swaying slightly as if he were dizzy."No no no, sit back down." Keith said as he caught Lance from falling when he cried out in pain."But I want to look around." Lance said, using Keith as support."No! You'll only injure yourself more if you move unnecessarily." Keith said as he grabbed Lance by the waist, trying not to hurt his rib as he set him back down.Once Lance was back on the ground, Keith sat down next to him and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What were you thinking? Are you trying to injure yourself more? Why did you just suddenly want to look around?"When Lance didn't respond, Keith looked up to find him sitting with his eyes clamped shut and breathing heavily."Hey, what's wrong?" Keith sat up and moved closer to Lance, "Does your rib hurt? Or your head?""I hurt my rib more I think." Lance said, his voice at a slightly higher pitch from the pain."You're an idiot, I hope you know. Why did you do that? Why did you have to look around?" Keith watched him with concern.Lance smiled weakly, yet sarcastically, "I dunno, I guess the boredom was getting to me.""You are so stupid." Keith muttered."I'm also cold." Lance said.Keith hadn't noticed until then that the wind had picked up a good bit, having completely blown out the fire in a matter of seconds.Keith sighed, "I don't know if I'll be able to get another fire started, but I'll try."He kneeled down next to his small fire pit he had made and started working on getting a new fire going, only to be met with disappointment. He tried again and again, and just as the flame looked like it would catch, it got blown out. Keith threw a rock in frustration, grumbling to himself."H-hey, it's f-fine." Lance said, trying to stop his teeth from chattering, "It's not t-that cold anyw- ways."Keith came over and dropped himself right next to Lance. It was quite dark by now, but Keith couldn't see the stars because they were now covered by a thick layer of clouds. "Looks like a storm. The rest of the team had better find us soon." He whispered, mostly to himself, drawing his knees up and resting his head on them, looking over at Lance."Y-yeah." Lance agreed, yawning."Try to rest, Lance. Perhaps you won't do stupid things in the morning if you've slept well.""I'm pretty sure I slept through the night and even most of the day before I decided to get up.""True, but you're obviously exhausted and in pain from trying to get up, so go to sleep anyways. It won't do you any good to fight it.""Fine." Lance said, trying to reposition his shoulders to a more comfortable position without aggravating his rib.Keith leaned against the rocks and closed his eyes as well, hoping that they wouldn't have to be on this planet much longer. He was starting to despise the jagged grey rocks and lifeless terrain. It was similar to the planet he had crashed on with Shiro, and that wasn't a particularly good adventure either.He had almost fallen asleep despite the cold wind when he was jarred fully awake by something hard hitting his shoulder. Keith looked down sharply and found that Lance seemed to have fallen in his sleep and rested his head on his shoulder. His expression softened and he blushed lightly but decided against trying to move for fear of causing pain to Lance and thus waking him. It seemed like Lance was sleeping comfortably anyways. Plus, Lance was cute when he was sleeping. The next morning Keith woke up early again, surprised at how much the wind had picked up in the night. He could barely keep his hair out of his face. Keith looked down at Lance, still sleeping. In the night Lance had somehow moved himself right up next to Keith, seemingly trying to shelter himself from the wind. Keith smiled to himself at the sleeping boy on his shoulder.Lance slowly opened his eyes, looking up groggily at Keith before he realized how close he was to him."Woah!" Lance tried to sit up quickly but yelped in pain.Keith grabbed his arm, "Hey, calm down. Here." He said as he helped move Lance into a sitting position, doing his best to hide his slight disappointment at Lance's sudden reaction.Once he was situated he wouldn't meet Keith's eyes, probably trying to hide his flustered face. "Sorry, I- I didn't mean to." He said sheepishly, trying to brush his hair out of his face from the wind."Didn't mean to panic or didn't mean to get all cozy on me?""B- both I guess.""It's fine." Keith said calmly, though he too was blushing. Was it possible that Lance had feelings for him as well? His heart fluttered at the thought, but he kept his tone cool and collected. "I should probably go back to the red lion today and see if it's working yet.""What? But you were only just there!" Lance said, "And don't you think that if the red lion was working again, it'd come find you on its own? I mean, you two have a really strong bond." Lance looked at him, and Keith thought there was an edge of panic in his eyes."Maybe." Keith said thoughtfully."Plus, if you get lost again you'll be stuck in this storm and it'll be harder to find your way back.""Even if I stay here we'll be stuck in this storm.""Yeah, but.. I mean- well.." Lance couldn't seem to finish his sentence."Well what?" Keith asked, looking at Lance."I- if you stayed here, then I wouldn't have to be all alone again." Lance muttered, looking at the ground."Oh." Keith watched Lance closely for a second, "Alright, I'll stay."Lance glanced up at Keith, slight relief evident in his eyes, "Thanks." He mumbled before looking back at the ground.Neither spoke for a long time, the only sound being the whistle of the wind and the occasional rock being thrown by Lance in between munching slowly on the food rations that hadn't blown away. There wasn't much left. It was also slightly darker then it had been the past couple of days, probably from the thick cloud cover."Hey, uh, Keith?" Lance said, suddenly breaking the silence and looking over at him."Yeah?" Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. "I- I'm cold. You w- wouldn't mind coming o-over a little c- closer, would you?" Lance stuttered, and Keith couldn't tell if it was because he was nervous or his teeth were chattering. Probably both."Um, I guess not.." Keith's cheeks were now flushed, and he was having a hard time telling whether or not it was because he was cold or because he was blushing. Also probably both.Keith moved over next to Lance, close enough that their hips and shoulders were touching lightly.Neither of them moved or said anything for a few minutes, both slightly tense because of the situation until Lance cautiously moved his knees up to his chest and turned a little more towards Keith, pressing a little closer, though he kept his eyes on the ground.Keith couldn't help but do likewise after a moment, pulling his knees up and pressing their bodies closer together. He looked at Lance, whose cheeks were now a bright pink in the dim light, Keith noticed, as Lance lifted his head and looked over at him. Their faces were only inches apart.Keith wet his lips and the two of them just stared at each other, both of them unsure what he should do. Lance looked right into Keith's eyes and Keith was caught slightly off guard when Lance suddenly and quickly closed the gap between them, gently brushing their lips together. Keith was surprised and his eyes widened but he soon responded to the gentle kiss, closing his eyes as he cupped Lance's cheek and kissed him back softly, though neither dared to push it too far.Lance was the first to break away, breathing a little heavier than usual, and smiling with bright red cheeks at Keith as he pressed their foreheads together.Keith smiled, neither of them needing to say a word, and kissed Lance again. "Well, I suppose I don't feel so bad about dying here anymore." Lance murmured later in the evening, his head on Keith's shoulder and his eyes closed as he pressed up close to Keith for warmth."Is that what your nightmare was about?" Keith asked softly with his head resting on Lance's and his arm rapped around his shoulders. Lance didn't respond right away. "Partly." He said after a second.Keith didn't pry with anymore questions, "Well, neither of us are going to die." "Yeah, we totally are. Both of us." "No, we're not. Look." Keith pointed to a spot in the sky.Lance opened his eyes and lifted his head as he watched closely in the direction where Keith pointed, soon able to make out the familiar shape of the castle, coming to their rescue."Alright, maybe we won't die here." Lance conceded, resting his head back on Keith's shoulder as they waited for the castle to land."Come on, lets go meet them.""I think you forgot that I can't really stand up.""No, I didn't forget, but I'll help you.""I thought I wasn't allowed to get up.""Would you please just be quiet for once and let me help you?" Keith rolled his eyes as he and Lance slowly made their way over to the castle. They were going to be okay.
10231751	Joint Custody	{ "Archive Warning": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Kuroko Tetsuya, Kagami Taiga, Aomine Daiki, Midorima Shintarou, Aida Kagetora, Momoi Satsuki, Akashi Seijuurou, Rakuzan High (Characters), Kiseki no Sedai \| Generation of Miracles", "Fandom": "Kuroko no Basuke \| Kuroko's Basketball", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by ptw30", "chapters": "3/3", "completed": "2017-04-08", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "9,639", "Additional Tags": "KagaKuro as Bros, Found Family, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Just Add Ninjas, Alternate Universe", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Kagami Taiga & Kuroko Tetsuya, Aomine Daiki & Kuroko Tetsuya, Akashi Seijuurou & Kuroko Tetsuya, Kagami Taiga/Momoi Satsuki", "Series": "Ninja!AU", "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 }	“Have you hit the fifth marker, Tetsu-kun?”“Working on the seventh, Momoi-san.”“Satsuki? I’m not so sure this is a good idea to include Tetsuya in your—”“I don’t mind, Tai-san.”“Hey, don’t burn that, Bakagami! I’m hungry!”“Shaddup, Aho!”A loud bark sounded from Taiga’s side.“Oh, not you, too! Down!” “We’re almost done, Tai-chan.”Taiga flipped the curry in the large pan, stirring it a few times before turning off the burner. Daiki immediately leaned over the breakfast bar, fork ready to stab one of the vegetables, only for Taiga to slap his hand away. “Hey! Wait until they’re done, all right?”“I haven’t eaten since this afternoon.”“Who’s fault is that?”“And done!” Satsuki announced, sitting at the breakfast bar between Daiki and Tetsuya. She shut her data-port and leaned over to pull the startled Tetsuya into a warm embrace. “Thank you so much for your help, Tetsu-kun! I couldn’t have done it without you.”A gentle smile twitched on the edge of Tetsuya’s lips, and his head bobbed in a quick bow. “It is my pleasure, Momoi-san. Tai-san never lets me help with his work.”Taiga choked in mid-gulp of his beer, his violent hacking providing an adequate distraction for Daiki to steal a quick bite. “Well,” he croaked once he managed to breathe again, “that’s just because my work is more…hands-on than Satsuki’s here.”She granted him a condescending pat on the cheek. “Oh, Tai-chan. If it weren’t for my work, you wouldn’t be able to do your work.”“I didn’t say that—”Daiki snorted and leaned on his hand. “You heard Satsuki. They’re done! Dish already!”At Taiga’s side, Nigou whined in agreement.“What are you even doing here? Both of you,” Taiga complained, but it was said without heat. Daiki had become an indispensable part of his life since the Kiseki no Sedai Clan paired them more than seventeen years ago, and as good of a partner as Daiki was to him, he was even a better brother to Tetsu. And that mattered more to Taiga than anything.And Nigou – well, Taiga just couldn’t say no to Tetsuya’s puppy eyes.Taiga shoveled out the food and then shooed them all to the dinner table, but Daiki hit Tetsuya on the shoulder. “Hey, help your bro out with the food, will ya? I’ll grab the drinks.”Satsuki set the table as Daiki brought over three beers and a Pocari Sweat. Taiga ruffled his little brother’s hair as he grabbed two plates, and Tetsuya’s soft, appreciative smile was a reward all its own. They sat down and ate, chatting and teasing and fighting like a real family – including Tetsuya feeding Nigou scraps under the table.Taiga almost choked for the second time that day when Tetsuya addressed Daiki as “Aomine-san.”“So we know the answer to ‘nature vs. nuture,’ huh?” Daiki laughed, ruffling Tetsuya’s hair as well. “Tetsu, you are waaaaay too polite to be Taiga’s kid.”“Oh, Dai-chan! Don’t tease Tai-chan like that. Can’t you see the resemblance?”Third time.“Nah. This—” He seized Tetsuya’s chin. “—is too adorable to come from that lug.”Taiga was just about ready to die right then and there, but then he heard the barely audible but highly amused laughter that made Tetsuya’s whole face glow. Taiga just melted, all his anxiety dissipating, and he dug back into his curry.By the end of the night, Daiki would pass out on the couch after playing video games with Tetsuya. Taiga would lift his feet onto the cushions while Satsuki draped a blanket over him, and then they’d each give Tetsuya a kiss before retiring to their respective rooms.But then Shintarou interrupted their meal at his normal time, shuffling in with a grunted welcome and dishing out what Taiga purposefully left in the pan. His message, however, was anything but usual.He leaned against the breakfast bar, muttering, “So what have you idiots done this time to pique Aida-san?”Taiga immediately sat up, eyes flicking to Daiki, who wore a similar look of alarm. “What are you talking about, Shin?”They hadn’t been out on a mission in almost a month, taking time off to plan the wedding and just relax after one of their more difficult missions. The clan heads had been adamant since Daiki and he had been able to procure the new emperor’s plans in the ongoing peace agreement between Neo-Tokyo and the Uncrowned Kings of the South. So what the hell did their boss have to be pissed about?Shintarou stopped in mid-bite, glancing between them as he registered their concern. “You—You honestly don’t know what you’ve done? I know you both are idiots, but I didn’t think it was possible for you to foul up and not know.”“Don’t be an asshole, Shin.” Daiki threw a balled-up napkin at Shintarou.“Are you one to make such demands, Daiki-san?”Taiga would have put out his hand to high-five Tetsuya—he was such an adorable shit—if he wasn’t watching Satsuki, who had slipped back to the breakfast bar and typed away frantically on her data-port. “Mimorin, are you sure you heard that right? Maybe Aida-san—”A low, vicious growl came from Nigou.“—wants a beer.” An older man with a five o’clock shadow and a grim expression entered the kitchen, swiping Daiki’s beer bottle and taking a long swig. Aida glanced down at Tetsuya, those dark eyes too serious for Taiga’s liking. But then his eyes softened, especially when Tetsuya grabbed hold of Nigou’s collar to keep the dog from lunging. “Hey, kiddo. How’s school going? You’re a…first year now?”Tetsuya nodded, on edge but not unnerved. “Yes, Aida-san. I’ll be a second year this April.”“Damn. Kids just grow up so fast these days.” He leaned down and ruffled the teen’s hair—apparently, Tetsuya’s fluffy hair was addictive—and then Taiga was standing, every muscle and nerve on edge until Aida’s fingers detached from Tetsuya’s mop. “Sit down, Kagami,” Aida admonished. “I wasn’t sent by the Kiseki no Sedai. I’m here on my own.”Tetsuya’s eyes perked up, but he said nothing.“Is that supposed to make me feel better, sir?” Taiga snapped.“It damn well should.” Aida glanced over his shoulder at Satsuki. “You get the passwords yet?”She nodded. “Tetsuya confirmed the passwords. I retrieved the desired strategies.”“Well, look at you,” Aida praised, his smile still crooked but not as tense. “Already joining the family business. I don’t know whether to celebrate or fire Taiga and give you his job.”Taiga crossed his arms, unamused, and Daiki replied, similarly, leaning back in his chair. “Is there a reason you came tonight, Aida? Or were you just bored and wanted to annoy us?”Eyes solemn, Aida turned to Tetsuya. “What’d you think of the coronation, kid?”Tetsuya stared up at Aida, his face as expressionless as ever, though Taiga saw the intense concentration upon it. Tetsuya was a smart kid, perceptive. No doubt he knew he was being tested, and he replied like the perfect little soldier. “Emperor Akashi has been an inspiration to our people. He ended the war with the Uncrowned Kings of the South, gave our people free medical care and food. He created jobs and lowered the poverty rate. And there’s even talk of him welcoming some of our territories as recognized cities of Neo-Tokyo or even releasing them to their own sovereign governments.”“I didn’t ask you for a history paper, kid,” Aida released a gruff laugh. “I asked you what you’d thought about the coronation.”Tetsuya pondered for a moment, weighing his words, and Taiga stopped breathing until Tetsuya replied, “Overdue. The emperor had been ruling since his parents were killed all those years ago, so there was no need for the formal event. But it was fun. Tai-san brought me down to the celebration after the formal ceremony, and we watched the parade and tried the treats.”“So did most of Neo-Tokyo,” Shintarou interrupted, placing his half-eaten plate onto the counter. “It is a common occurrence to celebrate a new ruler, Aida-sama.”“There were two cakes, Midorima,” Aida explained, a sharp edge to his voice that even had Satsuki flinching. “One was red velvet, the emperor’s favorite flavor.”“And the other was vanilla,” Tetsuya added. “It was delicious, right, Tai-san?”Four times Taiga almost choked today, but this time it was on his own spit. Once he recovered, he ruffled Tetsuya’s hair and hit his shoulder. “Why don’t you go finish your meal in your room, Tetsuya? Then start your homework, and I’ll come in to check it.”“You mean, you want to ‘let the grown-ups talk –’” Tetsuya used the air quotes. “– and then you’ll come in and pretend to know if my answers are correct.”“Now, kiddo, or I’ll ask Satsuki to check ‘em for me.”“No need to be so harsh, Tai-san,” Tetsuya snorted and headed off with his plate in hand, Nigou trailing on his heels.“And don’t feed the rest of that to your dog!”The five adults waited until they heard the door to Tetsuya’s room shut before Taiga whirled toward Satsuki. “I don’t like that you let him help you hack into our enemies’ servers.”“He is a born cerebral, Tai-chan,” Satsuki defended, already back typing on her data-port. “And isn’t it better for him to get into this side of the business rather than your side?”“I don’t want him in this line of work at all!”Daiki rolled his eyes. “Taiga, what do you think he’s going to get into? Teaching? A desk job? The kid’s a born shadow.”“That’s not your decision to—”“You’ve also taught him how to live in our world.”“That was for protection, not—”Shintarou pushed his glasses. “I always thought he would go into the medical field, perhaps intern under me at the clinic.”Taiga’s shoulders heaved with a long sigh. “You do all realize he’s my kid, right?” And he pointed to each of the people in his apartment. “Not yours, not yours, not yours, certainly not yours,” he added for Shintarou. “Mine, so all of you just back—”“Enough with the domestic,” Aida interjected, grabbing a second beer from the refrigerator. He popped the top on the counter’s edge. “We have more important matters to discuss.”“It’s a freakin’ cake,” Daiki replied. “Whoopee-friggin’-doo. It doesn’t mean anything.”“It means everything,” Aida rebuffed. “It means not only does the emperor know about his twin, but he knows Tetsuya intimately, including his favorite flavor. He even made sure to acknowledge his brother on the most important day of his life.”Taiga crossed his arms. “We can’t be sure about that. Maybe it was just a coincidence.”“I already checked Tetsu-kun’s data-port and terminal history,” Satsuki reported. “There’s nothing to indicate any contact with the emperor.”“Our inside man says the emperor’s uncle Mayuzumi Chihiro has come out of hiding, no longer fearing his own assassination now that Seijuro has been officially crowned ruler.” Aida’s voice was grim, unsettling. “Though it wasn’t common knowledge that the queen was pregnant with twins, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t discussed by the queen herself with those closest to her.”“This is speculation,” Daiki dismissed, rising to prowl. “And even if he knows of his brother, so what? You think he plans to meet Tetsu? Just revealing Tetsu could bring question to the emperor’s reign, especially since they’re twins. He wouldn’t want that.”“The emperor was just coroneted, Aomine. That solidifies his reign.”“So why are you here, Aida?” Taiga finally demanded.Aida paused before taking a long swig of his beer. Once he finished, he tapped the edge of the bottle, obviously uncomfortable with what was to come next. “The clan heads don’t know of this development, and we need to keep it that way. They’re happy with the emperor’s position and our influence over him. If they were to find out Tetsuya’s existence would jeopardize this—you don’t need to imagine what their order would be.”Taiga’s tight fists shook at his thighs. “You know I won’t let that happen.”“We won’t let that happen,” Satsuki corrected, and with curt nods, Daiki and Shintarou agreed.Aida wrung the back of his neck before throwing the bottle into the recycling bin. “Don’t be stupid. You’re the best I’ve ever trained. I’m not letting any of you betray the Kiseki no Sedai.”“Then what do you suggest?” Daiki challenged, his hand already reaching behind his back for his gun.Aida stopped him with a grave stare. “I trained you to be shadows, so become that. Disappear. Now. Before the emperor or the clan heads can make a move.”The four clan members traded quick glances; with a snap of time, they moved simultaneously. Taiga headed toward the hallway. Satsuki began typing frantically, and Daiki and Shinatrou grabbed towels to wipe down the apartment. Aida said nothing, just grabbed himself another beer, and walked unhurriedly toward the front door.^^“Los Angeles?” Tetsuya’s face scrunched in disappointment as he gripped Nigou’s leash and resituated his backpack. “But I thought you didn’t want to go back there.”“Aida-san gave us a new project, that’s ‘ll.” Taiga wiped the sweat from his brow and grabbed the pole as the skyway zoomed about a particularly tight curve. “And it wasn’t like I was banished from there. We just left because I wanted to avoid Alex’s wrath.”“What your brother is saying,” Daiki interjected, standing behind Tetsuya as if to hide him between his and Taiga’s larger bodies, “is that Satsuki was actually horrified to learn Alex had a bigger cup size, and demanded a transfer back to—ow! Woman, is it my fault you like having the biggest boobs on the continent?”Satsuki returned to attention to her handheld, typing away with both hands. “Tai-chan is bigger, Dai-chan.”Taiga’s face immediately burned as Daiki sputtered, cheeks dark red and expression appalled. “I didn’t need to know that!” he shouted in a high-pitch squeal.“You are all children,” Shintarou chastised, which had Nigou whining and Tetsuya laughing silently again.Taiga guessed it was worth it, palming the kid’s hoodie and drawing him close. “It’s going to be all right,” he muttered, watching as Daiki and Satsuki continued their exchange, Satsuki not even looking at Daiki as she typed. Daiki grew redder and redder until Shintarou elbowed him in the gut. That seemed the deflate the situation, and Daiki grumbled to himself as he grabbed the train’s pole again.Yes, Taiga believed. As long as they were together, they’d be all right.Of course, that was when the lights went out, and the train screeched to a halt. Taiga instantly sought Tetsuya, hand curling in the back of his hoodie as he heard Nigou’s frightened whimpers.“Everyone okay?” he called, and as he received a chorus of affirmatives, the emergency lights kicked in. They were duller than the usual neon radiance of the skyway, but they illuminated enough of the cabin for Taiga to see the massive beast now standing between him and Shintarou. He was monolithic, towering over Shintarou, with loose hair and a bored but still menacing expression.“Release the prince, and I won’t crush you.”Shintarou, by far the least combative of the group, shifted first, slamming his fist against the larger man’s groin and knocking him away from Tetsuya.“Move!” he ordered, and Taiga didn’t need to be told twice. He turned, parting the train’s night crowd and dragging Tetsuya along with him. Nigou quickly wove between passengers’ legs, whimpering in distress but keeping up.“Tai-san! What’s are you—”Taiga slammed open the door between train cars and threw one of his pellets, filling the cabin with choking smoke. “Remember all those nights I made you parkour across the Tokyo skyline?” “Yes.”“There might have a reason for that!”Behind them, clashes of a battle resounded. Taiga refused to look back, though it pained him to leave his family behind. But Tetsuya was his priority, and despite wanting to help his family, Satsuki, Daiki, and Shintarou could protect themselves.He wasn’t exactly sure whom they were fighting until he opened the door to the final cabin. The car was empty save a lone warrior. The man’s height was average, only a handful of inches shorter than Taiga, and he sported a man-bun at the base of his head. A simple long-sleeved black T-shirt with cargo pants lent him the appearance of a skilled fighter, especially with his cut-off gloves.He wasn’t worried about hiding his identity, which meant this man fought for the highest level of the government. He worked for the emperor himself.“Hello, Kagami Taiga. I’m Mibuchi Reo. We finally meet. I’ve heard much about you.”Taiga immediately took a protective step in front of Tetsuya, who fisted his hand in the back of Taiga’s sweatshirt. “I’m not giving you Tetsuya.”“Your stubbornness was one of your respectable attributes, but this is not a fight you can win. Hand over the prince before His Excellency decides to destroy the Kiseki no Sedai.”Taiga laughed, despite himself. “The Kiseki no Sedai have been around for hundreds of years, helping to groom Neo-Tokyo into the empire it is today. No one, not even its emperor, can bring down the clan.”Twin daggers slipped into Reo’s hands, and he shifted onto his back foot. “You do not want to test the emperor and his chosen fighters, the Rakuzan Warriors. You will lose, Kagami Taiga.”Reo didn’t say what he’d lose, and Taiga wasn’t ready to let go of Tetsuya. Not yet.He glanced over his shoulder at the tense and worried Tetsuya, and muttered, “You know what to do.”“Tai-san, I won’t. I refuse.”"You will.”Taiga forged ahead then, his own daggers slipping into his hands, and he engaged Reo, ducking the first swipe and kicking up his knee. Reo recovered quickly, slamming his dagger down, but Taiga spun so Reo’s weapon slashed open his bookbag but left him clean. He pivoted on his back foot, slamming Reo into one of the train seats, creating an open alley for Tetsuya and Nigou to run.Taiga grunted when Reo then flung him back, but he retaliated with a swipe, drawing crimson from Reo’s forearm. Another slash colored Reo’s middle, but then Reo kicked upward, freeing one of Taiga’s daggers. The sudden action caught Taiga off guard and left him open for attack, and he let out a harrowing yell when Reo’s dagger buried itself in his shoulder. Reo lifted a second dagger, slicing toward Taiga’s gut when an explosion of glass and metal rocked the cabin. The force sent Taiga and Reo slamming to the floor, but before either could move, Tetsuya knocked his fist against Reo’s chin, rendering him inert.“Tai-san! Tai-san!” Concern tainted Tetsuya’s usually soft voice, and Taiga huffed through the crippling pain that shot down his arm.Tetsuya’s arm circled Taiga’s neck, while his hand grabbed his older brother’s good shoulder, and Taiga immediately pushed him away. “Go,” he muttered weakly. “I’ll meet you at the safe house in Asakusa.”“No.” Tetsuya’s voice left no room for debate. “You’re coming with me.”“Tetsuya—”“No, Tai-san. We both go.”Hm. Taiga wished Daiki was there right now, so he could say, “In yer face.” No way this level of stubbornness came from anyone but Taiga.In retrospect, perhaps Taiga should have wondered why Tetsuya didn’t ask him about the emperor’s guards. Tetsuya never even questioned why they called him a prince.But Taiga focused on keeping conscious as Tetsuya secured the knife in his shoulder and helped him out the shattered front window of the train.The elevated skyway ran through Neo-Tokyo, and though they were only two stops away from the airport, there was no way Taiga could board a plane with a dagger sticking out his shoulder—or even run that far. Each step sucked more energy from his already tired legs, but he pushed forward for Tetsuya. He needed to get his little brother safe before he passed out, which was why he chose not to go to the station, where police would probably be waiting for them along with more of the emperor’s warriors. Instead, he snatched the back of his kid’s sweatshirt and motioned toward a balcony of a nearby high-rise.No words were needed. Tetsuya nodded and scooped up Nigou before jumping off the track and onto the balcony’s concrete floor. Usually, Taiga could make the jump, but today, Tetsuya shot a line and pulled it taut, creating the safe passage Taiga needed.After picking the sliding door’s lock, Tetsuya led Taiga inside and lowered him onto the couch before heading deeper into the darkened apartment for first aid supplies. As Taiga huffed and moaned – why did stab wounds have to hurt so much? – a shadow fell over him.“Wow, Tetsuya,” he managed to mutter. “That was quick.”He couldn’t wait to get this thing out of him, take a double-dose of pain-killers, and then pass out for about twelve hours or so. Tetsuya would contact Daiki and Satsuki and Shintarou, and get everyone together before they tried to flee again.Unfortunately, it wasn’t Tetsuya’s voice that greeted him.“Hello, Little Brother.”Taiga’s entire body tensed; he only had enough strength to crack open his eyes.“Tatsuya?”Tatsuya nodded with a sad, apologetic smile. “Don’t worry. We’re not looking to harm him. Sei-chan wants to talk to him.”Sei-chan? “Tatsuya, what the fuck are you—”Tatsuya lunged then, injecting Taiga with something cool and refreshing.Taiga wanted to fight back but oblivion felt so good right then. To Be Continued... ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The intense throbbing woke Taiga. It wasn’t in his arm, where Reo had stabbed him, but rather in his head, thanks to whatever drug Tatsuya used. Of course, his shoulder joined in on his torment a few moments later, and he suddenly missed the oblivion that was unconsciousness. Why couldn’t he go back to that?Something hard slammed into his side, jerking his already pained body, and a muffled grunt urged him further toward total consciousness. Mustering enough strength, Taiga lifted his heavy eyelids to see Daiki sitting next to him, arms restricted behind his back and tape covering his mouth. Good. Why couldn’t he always be like that?Leaning against his good shoulder was an unconscious Satsuki, and next to her mumbled a furious Shintarou, restrained as well. Shintarou wasn’t looking at Taiga, though. Taiga followed his gaze and started. Standing directly before them, the large warrior who fought Shintarou on the train yawned and reached into a bag of potato chips, munching away with a fervor he didn’t quite have for battle. Mibuchi Reo also occupied the rather large room, appearing pissed with a bitter expression and several bandages upon his once pristine cheeks and arms. Next to him stood another three fighters Taiga didn’t recognize. One reminded him a little of Tetsuya with washed out hair and pale eyes, but his countenance was hostile. Taiga guessed him to be Mayuzumi Chihiro, the former queen’s younger brother and Tetsuya’s biological uncle. The other two completed the Razukan Warriors, the first more wide than tall with muscles to match while the second sported a mischievous smile. Boot steps drew Taiga’s attention, and he almost growled at Tatsuya, who approached in a dark jumpsuit along with a gun strapped to his side. He also wore that same apologetic smile from earlier. He knelt by Taiga’s side and with gentle pressure, helped Taiga to sit up. His shoulder pulled instantly, but Taiga kept from letting out any cries of pain—mostly because of the tape over his mouth. Tatsuya were smart to gag him because right now, he wanted to give his brother a piece of his freaking mind. What was Tatsuya doing? He was Kiseki no Sedai, planted in the ruler’s inner circle to help guide the boy emperor to be the benevolent monarch. And Tatsuya had done just that, but what was he doing now, helping Seijuro take Tetsuya? Tetsuya!He ignored Tatsuya’s warning not to move suddenly or risk pulling his stitches out, and shot up, searching frantically for Tetsuya. He found his charge’s unconscious form upon the opulent bed in the middle of the bedchambers, Nigou tucked against his owner’s side and licking his fingers every so often. The emperor with his fiery red hair stood out against the pale blue and silver color scheme, sitting on the edge of the bed and absentmindedly playing with the wayward strands of Tetsuya’s light hair. Taiga growled through his tape and found himself on the receiving end of Tatsuya’s dark scowl, but Seijuro crossed boundaries. Only he was allowed to play with Tetsuya’s hair like that—and Daiki and Satsuki, and maybe—maybe Shintarou, but only if he was babysitting. Tatsuya patted Taiga on the head, almost as if to say, “Down, boy,” and walked over to Seijuro, bowing in a rather formal manner. “Should I wake him, Your Excellency?”Seijuro clasped his hands in his lap and nodded. “Yes, please, Tatsuya.”Tatsuya wanted to ruffle Seijuro’s hair, Taiga noticed. Perhaps in private they were as familiar as he and Tetsuya, but in public, in front of the emperor’s closest warriors, Tatsuya simply knelt next to the emperor’s bed and injected something into Tetsuya’s arm. After a moment, he stepped back and waited, safely out of Nigou’s biting zone, while Taiga held his breath. He thought his world might end until Tetsuya suddenly sucked in a sharp gasp and sat up, eyes wide and breathing erratic. Of course, his bedhead was still adorable, and Taiga wanted nothing more than to ease his discomfort and brush the runaway locks away from Tetsuya’s eyes. Seijuro beat him to it, playing with the front strands. “Hm. It seems we have similar sleep behaviors.”Tetsuya’s widened eyes surveyed his surroundings, hesitantly averting from Seijuro’s serene smile to take in the opulent room and its intense occupants. His alarmed gaze ran over the Razukan Warriors, stopping briefly on each one, before finding the Kiseki no Sedai Clan. He exhaled once he met Taiga’s eyes. Yeah, kid. I’m here. I won’t leave you. “Would you like some water, Tetsuya?” Seijuro asked, standing to get it himself when Tetsuya nodded. He returned a moment later from a wet bar, and Tetsuya sipped slowly, cautiously, as he always had, both hands on the glass. Seijuro watched in silent vigil, once more taking a seat on the bed, and Taiga thought he looked like a hungry lion searching for the best opportunity to pounce. The emperor offered a tiny bow—the emperor! – to Tetsuya, and Taiga couldn’t compute. “Please excuse my subordinates’ rather unruly methods, but they are very loyal. I wanted to speak with you, and they moved Heaven and Earth – or at the very least, the Kiseki no Sedai Clan – to make it happen.”Tetsuya’s voice was soft but fierce. “This is a mistake, Your Excellency. You’re going to be disappointed.”Seijuro cocked his head to the side, considering. “How so? You are here, and we are speaking.”Tetsuya’s eyes grew dark and tired. “I cannot give you what you want.”“And you know what I want?”“I believe you want us to be familiar enough with one another to be on a first name basis.”Taiga almost choked for the sixth time that day. Tetsuya knew? All this time? But Tetsuya had said during the coronation that he hadn’t questioned Taiga’s role in his life. Then how could he possibly— “You know I am your brother.” It was a statement, not a question.“I know you are my twin,” Tetsuya corrected as he reached out to cradle the emperor’s hands in his own, “and perhaps in another lifetime, we could have grown up together. But we have not. We did not, and you are searching for a past long lost.”Seijuro squeezed the hands offered to him, like the lifeline they perhaps were. “But that doesn't mean you can't take your place at my side now, Tetsuya. You are a prince of Neo-Tokyo, and it is your right, your duty—”Tetsuya’s smile was so precious, it hurt Taiga to see him give it freely to Seijuro. “You do not need me, Your Excellency. You’re treasured by our people and by those around you. You are the leader our people deserve, and I will not change that.”“I am offering you a life you cannot imagine. I am offering you a life away from the shadows and the deviants of society,” he sneered with a quick, embittered glance at the Kiseki no Sedai Clan. “You are asking me to leave the only family I have ever own.”“I am your family,” Seijuro snapped and motioned toward the pale warrior. “Chihiro is our uncle, and you belong with –”“No, we may be joined by blood, but that is the end of our connection.” Tetsuya stood then, Nigou whining behind him, and began toward the Kiseki no Sedai. “Tai-san, Daiki-san, Satsuki-san, and Shin-san are my family, and I belong with them.” Taiga’s heart throbbed pleasantly in his chest. “How can you choose them over me?” Seijuro pierced, voice gutted in a muted scream. “They killed our parents.” That one statement tore Taiga’s still-beating heart from his chest. His entire life led up to this one moment when Tetsuya was presented with Taiga’s worst sin—or perhaps Taiga’s worst sin was believing he was allowed the privilege of Tetsuya’s innocent and splendid presence in his life. He loved the kid more than life itself, and he would die for Tetsuya—even if it was by Tetsuya’s own hand. Taiga prayed for Tetsuya to look at him, to show him exactly what he thought of this revelation, but Tetsuya just averted his eyes from Seijuro and whispered, “I know.”What the fuck! All this time, Tetsuya knew that Taiga had murdered his parents? And yet he still chose to stay with Taiga instead of fleeing on the next possible hovercraft. Taiga sunk back on his heels as Tetsuya looked utterly crestfallen, petting Nigou’s head at his hip. “How, Tetsuya?” the emperor demanded. “Tell me how you can choose them after what they did to us? To you?”Unwavering conviction resounded in Tetsuya’s soft voice. “You are an emperor, Your Excellency. Not a king or a prime minister but an emperor, and your predecessors along with our entire bloodline are responsible for countless deaths and atrocities, all for the title you inherited.”“And you believe Kagami Taiga is more honorable? He is an assassin!”“Yes, and he spared me. And you.”“That absolves him from the murders he has committed?” Seijuro glowered; a fine trembling overtook his hands, which were tight in his lap. “That absolves him from committing regicide?”“Tai-san killed people you never knew who wanted full-out war with the Uncrowned Kings of the South, something you and your advisors prevented.”“I do not see the relevance of—”“I know, Tai-san,” Tetsuya said, a ghost of a smile fluttering across his lips. “I know he picked me up at school and made sure my homework was done, even if he didn’t understand what I did. He lets me drink three milkshakes a day—”“That seems absurdly unhealthy,” Tatsuya remarked, shooting a chastising glare at Taiga. The assassin hardly noticed it as his cold heart hung on Tetsuya’s every word. “—and I know if there were any other way to stop the war, he would have done it.”Seijuro scoffed and stood, tension gripping every muscle as he walked about the elegant bedding. “The Kiseki no Sedai are extremists, Tetsuya. They believe in their own sovereignty and nothing else.”“Then how are you still alive, Your Excellency?”Seijuro swung around, mouth opened with an uncertain gaze, before quickly turning serious, even accusatory. Tatsuya stepped forward then to calm the disturbed emperor, clasping his hands upon his charge’s shoulders. “We have spoken about this before, Your Excellency. While the clan is extreme in their methods, they believe in the good of Neo-Tokyo, for which you and they are in agreement.”“And that justifies all they have done, Tatsuya?” Seijuro asked, clearly lost and broken, hands fisted at his sides. “They kept Tetsuya and me apart all these years, holding him hostage in case I did not do what they wished.”That wasn’t true, Taiga wanted to yell. He kept Tetsuya alive because he loved his little brother, and the Kiseki no Sedai kept Tetsuya alive more of a back-up plan than a hostage, just in case Seijuro became his parents and needed to be put down. Taiga was going to be sick. “Perhaps,” Tetsuya relented, “but does the reason matter as long as we are alive? We live while our parents do not.”“But you are truly not here, Tetsuya. Not yet,” and before Tatsuya could argue, Seijuro swiped his gun, grim determination in his eyes. Taiga held his breath, ready for the final blow that was to come when the Razukan Warriors parted, letting Seijuro stand at point-blank range. The barrel of his gun hovered less than a foot from Taiga’s forehead. “You stole my parents, but I won’t let you take Tetsuya again.” Madness reigned in his shimmering eyes, and when he spoke, his voice scraped his throat raw. “Return my brother, Kagami-san.”Taiga guessed it was only karma that Seijuro—if not Tetsuya—killed him. Shintarou grunted through his gag; even Daiki let out a threatening shout. Satsuki screamed, and Taiga spared her one last glance. He hated seeing the demoralized tears sliding down her cheeks, but he hoped she knew just how much he loved her. And Taiga hoped his death alone would pacify Seijuro, so the emperor would spare the rest of his family. His eyes then sought Tetsuya’s—to apologize for putting him in such a precarious position, for taking him away from his only family, for not stopping him from drinking three milkshakes a day—when a flash of blue flew past his eyes. A force knocked him back, and a heavy weight settled upon his now prone body. Tetsuya placed himself between his two brothers, stopping Seijuro from pulling the trigger. “I won’t let you take Tai-san,” he vowed. “Move, Tetsuya!”“No!”Seijuro’s laser gun shook in his hand. “Tetsuya!”“I am of the Kiseki no Sedai Clan,” Tetsuya murmured, slowly moving into a crouching position. “Killing Tai-san will not change that.”“Then tell me how to save you,” Seijuro all but pleaded.Reo placed his hand upon Seijuro’s shaking one. “Your Excellency, perhaps not everyone can be saved.”“Perhaps I am not the one who needs saving,” Tetsuya rebuked. It had been wrong to keep Tetsuya and Seijuro apart, but Taiga had wanted to save Tetsuya’s life. Maybe now, in the light, he would be safe, revealed to all of Neo-Tokyo and so important to the emperor that the Kiseki no Sedai heads wouldn’t risk killing him. Perhaps Taiga couldn’t erase all the sins he committed, but today, he could right at least one of his many wrongs. Freeing himself, Taiga struggled against the pain in his shoulder to engulf Tetsuya in a comforting embrace. Tetsuya melted against his chest, and Taiga wanted to be selfish. He wanted more dinners with the family—Satsuki and Tetsuya, and even Daiki and Shintarou. He wanted to check Tetsuya’s homework and pretend to know if it was done correctly. He wanted to watch Tetsuya sleep and just make sure he was still breathing. Taiga wanted the three years left before Tetsuya went to university or underwent the clan trials. And he wanted to the be there to comfort Tetsuya after his “graduation.”But he would always do what was right for Tetsuya. That was his job as a parent and big brother.“Tetsuya, listen to me,” Taiga began, his voice pitched to soothe, despite his breaking heart. “The emperor’s right. You should be with—”“No,” Tetsuya refuted, arms tightening about Taiga’s torso. “Kiddo, come on. Hear me out.”“You’re going to say that I belong here, away from you and Daiki-san and Satsuki-san and Shin-san, and you’re wrong.”God, don’t make this harder than it is, Tetsuya. “But you’ve gotta understand that—that I did take you and maybe that wasn’t such a good thing. So why don’t you—”“No. You said raising me was the best thing you ever did. You said we were family.” Though Tetsuya’s voice never lacked conviction, his eyes trembled when he pulled away to look into Taiga’s. “All that time, were you lying?”Yes, but not about that. “Of course not. You know I don’t regret raising you, but I deprived you of knowing your twin…” and your parents.“I still have three years until I’m adult, so finish your responsibility, Tai-san.”“But Tetsuya—” Don’t tell me that. I’ll take you up on it.Tetsuya glanced over his shoulder at Seijuro, whose glistening eyes shook with the very severing of his soul. “Tai-san taught me that a family isn’t necessary bonded by blood, and you learned that from Himuro-san, after whom I was named.”Seijuro shot an uncertain glance at Tatsuya before turning back to Tetsuya. “That doesn’t mean I can just forget you.”“Though it would be in your best interest,” Tetsuya affirmed. “Today, I helped Momoi-san hack into the Uncrowned Kings’ database to make sure there were no impeding attacks upon you and Neo-Tokyo. Once I am old enough, I will rise in the ranks and eventually become one of the clan’s heads, as you have risen to the top of our empire.” “But what does it matter if I cannot save the ones I love?”Tetsuya stood before Seijuro, the gun mere inches from his chest. “How do you know you love me? You’ve never even met me.”Seijuro dropped his weapon, mouth agape, eyes trembling. He simply stood there, utterly devastated and demoralized. His vulnerable expression allowed Tetsuya to see the damage his frank words left, before the emotionless mask of an emperor once more overtook Seijuro’s young face. “I see now the fight is futile. Leave. I will not pursue you again.”For one who ruled with a fair but demanding hand, Seijuro was not known to ever admit defeat. Perhaps Tetsuya, his other half, was the only one who could best Seijuro. Stunned silence reigned until finally Reo stepped forward. “You should leave.”But Tetsuya, after all his bluster, refused. “Do you know why I want to be the head of the Kiseki no Sedai Clan?”Seijuro, too, refused to turn, though his hand stilled upon his bed’s post. Tetsuya persisted, “So what happened to our parents won’t happen to you. I won’t let it.” Seijuro whirled, his hands and eyes trembling. “I love Tai-san and Daiki-san and Satsuki-san and Shin-san,” Tetsuya continued. “They’re my family, but…you are family, too. And I’ll protect my family at all costs.”Taiga wasn’t sure who moved first, but Seijuro and Tetsuya tackled each other at the same time, collapsing to the floor in a mess of tangled limbs and endless tears. Taiga began to feel like he was in that old movie where the twins were separated by their parents’ divorce—one twin to each parent—and now that they were reunited, they wouldn’t be separated ever again. To Be Continued... ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- “Seijuro, turn that down!”Taiga called from the kitchen, stirring the tofu soup. He liked meat himself, and thankfully, Tetsuya shared his love for cheeseburgers, even if he only ate one (preferring to save his appetite for his three, daily allotted milkshakes). But Seijuro ate tofu almost exclusively, meaning every time he came over to their apartment, Taiga spent half the day cooking tofu specialties for the young emperor. A six-month split was not possible with Neo-Tokyo needing an emperor and the Kiseki no Sedai watching Tetsuya’s every move. They needed to be discrete with the twins’ visits, so they settled on one weekend a month Tetsuya stayed at His Excellency’s palace, while another weekend the emperor forsook his duties to stay at Taiga’s apartment. According to Tatsuya—Taiga enjoyed being able to speak with his brother on a regular basis again—Seijuro lived for his weekends with Tetsuya, making notes during the week about what he wanted to tell his brother and requesting certain activities or foods. Taiga spent half of his monthly budget buying video games for Seijuro to play as the emperor almost never had the time to enjoy the simple technological pleasures of youth. Perhaps Taiga’s apartment was the only place Seijuro could be the sixteen-year-old kid he really was. Still, Taiga had neighbors, so he put on the pan’s lid, turned down the burner, and growled as he left the kitchen. “Seijuro!” He long stopped calling the boy by his title. “I told you to turn that—”He entered Tetsuya’s room to see his young charge passed out on the futon. Seijuro lay stomach down next to him, playing a video game in the darkened room with Nigou snuggled between their bodies. Taiga debated about just letting Seijuro continue to play, but after pulling out his phone and taking a quick snapshot—the twins were adorable when cuddling like puppies—Taiga used the control panel by the door to shut off the TV. Seijuro slammed down the video game controller and whirled toward Taiga. “I was playing that, Kagami-san.”“And it’s too loud and way past your bedtime.”“It is only midnight. On a Saturday.”“Yes, and my neighbors would like to enjoy their evening.”Seijuro’s voice never rose from its controlled whisper as he slowly placed his feet on the ground. “I am the ruler of Neo-Tokyo and all its territories. There is seldom a night I am sleep before two A.M.”“Then my brother’s parental skills are lacking, but here in my apartment—which I rule—kids are in bed and sleeping by eleven.”Seijuro glanced away, calculating his next move, before glancing up at Taiga hesitantly. “One more game?”Taiga wanted to tell Seijuro no, but the kid looked at him with such a vulnerable expression that Taiga couldn’t help but concede. “All right. Fine. But just one more game—and you have to be in bed by one. Got it?”Seijuro perked up instantly—he looked so much like Tetsuya, it was insane—and smiled a gentle, appreciative grin. “Thank you, Kagami-san. I will adhere to your request.”The TV switched on again, and Taiga remained in the doorway, watching as Seijuro re-situated next to Tetsuya and Nigou. The noise woke the once-slumbering Tetsuya. An unconscious smile overtook his sleepy face, and he pressed against Seijuro’s shoulder, much to Nigou’s displeasure. But the beast only whined for a few moments before he, too, nuzzled closer to the twins and fell asleep. Taiga felt a ping of guilt, watching as Seijuro drove about the track as Princess Peach, knowing why Seijuro currently refused sleep. It wasn’t easy being the coroneted ruler of more than 150 million people across one sovereign empire and countless territories, an impossible task for anyone, let alone a sixteen-year-old child. Perhaps he had Tatsuya and the Rakuzan Warriors as his advisors, but the young ruler ultimately made the decisions for the empire. And during a time of hardship, those decisions would be sleep-stealing. As Seijuro finished up his game, Taiga retreated to the kitchen to package the soup and place it in the refrigerator for the morning. Then he warmed up a cup of hot chocolate, set it on the living room coffee table, and fell to the left couch cushion to wait. He scrolled through his phone, checking his messages and texting Daiki back over his crude comments about his beloved Mai-chan. (The model retired more than a decade ago; Daiki needed to move on.) Taiga began to watch the latest installment of that vampire anime Tetsuya got him hooked on when Seijuro came shuffling out of the room, hair in a state of disarray much like Tetsuya’s bedhead. He wore a T-shirt a size too big—probably Tatsuya’s—and a pair of Adidas pants. He sat down on the very edge of the right cushion, back impeccably straight, fingers knotted upon his lap. Though he appeared serene, Taiga felt the young ruler’s ill-ease. He was nervous, upset, and Taiga ached in ways he previously hadn’t known he could. He’d caused this. He’d made Seijuro’s life so difficult, forcing the young ruler to reach adulthood prematurely, and Taiga wasn’t sure how to alleviate the emperor’s distress. But he could turn off his phone and sit up, lifting the cup with the hot chocolate and placing it in front of the young emperor. Seijuro didn’t move, didn’t even look at Taiga, only gazed blankly at something Taiga couldn’t see. So Taiga remained silent, too, and hoped his presence was a reassuring one. “I find this entire situation disturbing,” Seijuro commented, as if disgusted with himself. “I come for comfort from my parents’ killer.”Taiga swallowed hard and nodded. “There would be something wrong with you if you weren’t disturbed.”After seven months of sleepovers and tofu soups and Owari no Seraph, Seijuro finally asked the question Taiga dreaded to hear, “Why did you do it?”Even for the boy emperor, he sounded wary and so very, very tired. “Because I was told to,” which was the truth though not the lot of it. “And because I believed in the cause. Your parents ordered the invasion of sovereign nations, destroyed lives, killed countless innocents for the sake power.” Taiga gave the kid so much credit for simply staring ahead, unflinchingly, unblinking. “I wanted to stop it, so I did.”“Why did you spare my brother and me?” Again, the serenity of the emperor baffled Taiga, though he heard the weary question he, too, feared to ask. “You could have killed us and rid Neo-Tokyo of all royalty. The Kiseki no Sedai—”“—are a shadow organization,” Taiga corrected. “They are here to protect the people of Neo-Tokyo, not to rule. That always will be your prerogative, Your Excellency.”“Unless I step out of line. Then would you end me as well? Tetsuya, too, if he went against you and the Kiseki no Sedai?”The thought sickened Taiga, but he spoke the truth again, the conviction unwavering in his voice. “I would do anything to protect Tetsuya and destroy anyone who threatened his life…” The even you went unsaid but was heard nonetheless. “And despite what you may believe, Your Excellency, you hold more power than you believe.”“Tatsuya is Kiskei no Sedai,” Seijuro informed, and Taiga wondered if his brother told the young ruler or Seijuro deduced it. “And yet—I find myself uncaring in his connection to my past.”Tatsuya changed Seijuro’s diapers, comforted his nightmares, and procured him all the tofu soup he could eat in this lifetime—as well as made all the difficult decisions in the kingdom until seven months ago, when Seijuro took the crown. So Taiga gave the young emperor reprieve, as best he could. “Tatsuya is no more or less Kiseki no Sedai than I am,” Taiga replied, elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped loosely between them. “Our loyalties are elsewhere now, and it is for those we fight. That has nothing to do with clans or pasts. We care only for the present and those most important to us.”Seijuro nodded, accepting that truth for the harsh reality it was, but Taiga couldn’t accept that himself. Not yet. There was much to be discussed but less to be resolved, and he stood with a deep sigh. The emperor’s crimson eyes snapped to him and followed Taiga’s every move as he stepped in front of the young ruler. In painstakingly slow movements, Taiga went down on one knee, then the other before directing his eyes to the floor and offering a reverent bow. Yes, he would do this for the emperor, though he might never have the courage to ask this of Tetsuya. The cold, tense silence that followed burned deep in Taiga’s chest as he surrendered, “For what it’s worth, Your Excellency, I am sorry for what I did to you and your family. I do not ask for forgiveness. I will not force you to give something you cannot. I just ask that you allow me the privilege of safeguarding your brother.” Taiga wasn’t sure how long he stayed upon the floor. His knees numbed. His arms shook, but it was nothing compared to the rigorous training he received at the ruthless whims of the clan heads. Eventually, Seijuro laid a gentle hand upon Taiga’s shoulder and wordlessly commanded him to stand. Silent tears stained tracks down Seijuro’s cheeks, but that was the only indication of his inner struggles. “You saved Tetsuya, Kagami-san,” Seijuro admitted, though he glanced away and focused on the lights of Neo-Tokyo just outside the living room. “For that alone, I will forever be grateful.”Taiga accepted that truth with a curt nod—perhaps, that was all he could allow himself—and once more offered Seijuro the hot chocolate. This time, the emperor took it, sipping sparingly. Taiga reclaimed his place on the couch, and Seijuro uncoiled from the tight rein he held upon his chaotic emotions. “The Southern Islands invaded one of our territories,” Seijuro revealed in a strained whisper. “I will have to deploy our security forces to stop it.” Another sip. A softer confession. “I will be ordering the deaths of hundreds of people.”“But they have harmed your people,” Taiga offered. “It does not mean I will not mourn them. They are still people, Tai-san.”At that one moment, more than ever, Taiga knew he’d made the right decision all those years ago, and it pained him to think so. Seijuro took a sip of the hot chocolate, then another and another. He inched closer to Taiga until he burrowed against Taiga’s side, secure and asleep against the assassin’s chest. This close, Taiga could see the uncanny resemblance between the two twins, Seijuro a mirror image of his brother, and Taiga resolved then to always protect this boy as well. “You put something in his hot chocolate,” Tetsuya accused, soft voice sounding just over Taiga’s head. Taiga nodded. “Yes. He is the right ruler for Neo-Tokyo, but he’s too young. He’s not ready for the burden yet.”“Then we are in agreement.”No, they weren’t. As Taiga glanced over his shoulder, he wasn’t surprised to see Tetsuya dressed all in black with gloves protecting his hands and a dark guard covering his nose and mouth. A knife rested on his left shoulder, perfect for easy access, while two guns were strategically placed—one on Tetsuya’s thigh and another tucked against his lower back. Other weapons clung to his person as well. It pained Taiga to see his young charge wearing the wardrobe of a Kiseki no Sedai assassin, though perhaps he had trained Tetsuya all this time to enter the family business. By joining the clan and listening to the will of the emperor—the rightful emperor, who wanted what was best for his people—Tetsuya would one day achieve his goal of making the Kiseki no Sedai the strong, protective arm of the nation—and delivering the loudest “fuck you” to its heads. Taiga cared very little about all that. He only cared for the kind-hearted child who used to cling to his pant leg when meeting someone new or would only go to bed after drinking warm vanilla. Now Tetsuya wanted to become a ruthless assassin, able and willing to protect those he loved. Taiga could relate, and this way, Tetsuya’s first kill would be to protect his brother and his people, not a worthless order by the clan hands. Sighing, Taiga placed Seijuro on the couch and called Daiki, Satsuki, and his brother. Then, exiting his room, dressed in similar garb to his young charge’s, Taiga pinned Tetsuya with a brutal glare. “There’s no going back from this. Once you do this, you’ll lose a piece of your soul, and you’ll continue to lose pieces until you fear there is nothing left. And then—”“—I’ll find a baby in a crib who will grab my finger, and I’ll realize that’s all a lie? That I actually have a soul, and everything I’ve done is for the purpose of a better tomorrow for him and his people?” Taiga saw the smile beaming in Tetsuya’s eyes and would cherish it for as long as allowed. “Daiki’s right. You’re such a little shit.” He ruffled the kid’s hair and drew Tetsuya against him as they headed toward the exit. Tomorrow, he might regret this decision. Tomorrow, he might wish he’d stopped Tetsuya. Tomorrow, he might wish he’d never picked up at adorable child from the crib, but today, Taiga could admit Tetsuya had wrapped him around his pinkie almost seventeen years ago. And he’d do anything for him, even follow him to the depths of Hell. ^^ Ten Years Later… “This is absurd,” Chihiro remarked, waiting by the opening of the prince’s chambers. “No emperor has addressed his people in such a fashion in more than two hundred years.”Dressed in his most formal attire—minus the crown—Seijuro accepted Tatsuya’s deft touches—straightening his tie and royal sash – without blinking. “But this is a momentous occasion, Uncle. The people deserve to hear the news personally from me.”“Yes, on their viewer screens and handheld terminals, not on the steps before the palace. It’s a security risk.”“Your uncle may have a point,” Tatsuya interjected, taking a step back to scrutinize his work.Chihiro choked. “May?” “You will be addressing a controversial subject, Your Excellency. You may want to take – ”“How is freeing more than a fifty million people controversial?” Seijuro asked, a blatant challenge in his tone. “My family stole the lands, taxed their people and all but forced them to work for the betterment of our nation. That is not controversial. It’s madness, and I will not have it in my empire.”“Then you’ll no longer have an empire,” Chihiro disputed. “You’ll have a kingdom.”“Then I shall be a king,” Seijuro replied, frowning as Tatsuya pulled a hair off his coat and brushed his shoulders. “I am fine, Tatsuya.”Tatsuya reached for the emperor’s tie. “Just one more—”“I said I am fine.”Atsushi yawned as he entered the room, dressed in his black suit with his earpiece hanging over his shoulder. “Aka-chin, your tie is crooked.”Seijuro rolled his eyes but motioned for Tatsuya to fix it, which he did with a smug smirk. Once he finished, Seijuro glared at him with a mock angered expression. “Am I ready, Tatsuya? Perhaps you’d like to check to see if my underwear is sufficiently tight.”“No need, Your Excellency. I was here when you put it on.”“Fine, then.” Seijuro let out a tiny, defeated sigh before motioning toward the door. “Shall we make history?”Chihiro chimed up, “Seijuro, you are making a mistake. Your parents would not have—”But Seijuro had already abandoned the room, shouting at Tatsuya that his hair was, in fact, perfectly placed. As soon as the door shut, Chihiro, too, sighed, before taking a phone and hitting the call button. The person picked up after only two rings, and a gruff voice sounded through the earpiece, “Are we go?”A cold barrel pressed against the back of Chihiro’s neck, and an even colder voice sounded from behind him. “Tell them you’ve changed your mind, and you support the emperor’s new agenda.” “Your Highness, are we go?” “Tell them, Uncle, or I’ll have my people stop them.”Chihiro’s shoulders visibly shook as he muttered, “No. Stand down. I will meet with you shortly to discuss other options.”A hand took the phone then, and Chihiro turned to see Tetsuya, dressed in his black uniform, drowning in the shadows of Seijuro’s personal chambers. The younger man held a gun pointed directly at Chihiro while he hit off the phone. “You are the bane of my existence,” Chihiro snarled. Tetsuya smiled that hateful little grin. “Hm. I am honored, Uncle. I thought it was Seijuro.”“Why is it always the uncles in this story?” a new voice grumbled, and Chihiro pivoted to see Daiki leaning against the bedpost, sighing as he glanced about the rather empty room. “And why is there never food out in these places?”“You sound like my brother-in-law,” Taiga replied, materializing behind Chihiro. “I am your brother-in-law.”“Not you—the other—oh, just shut up!”Tetsuya leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper, “It is so hard to find good help these days.”“Oi!”“Hey!”Chihiro muttered with a bored expression, “What is it you want, Tetsuya?”“To kill you,” the younger man said without any remorse, “but my brother cherishes you. So I wish to intimidate you instead.” He stepped forward, invading the older man’s personal space while Taiga came up behind and Daiki stood to the side. “I am the leader of the Kiseki no Sedai Clan, which is now the strong arm of the emperor’s will. We will do anything to protect our master, and we are everywhere. You cannot escape us.”“You don’t frighten me,” Chihiro replied, his face serene but callous. “I’ll always do what I think is best for Neo-Tokyo.”Tetsuya smiled, genuine and true, and it was the perfect mirror to Seijuro’s challenging grin. “So will I.” The End Omake: As soon as Chihiro collapsed, Tetsuya glanced down at his gun. “I didn’t shoot him.”Taiga cocked his head to side as he gazed down at the supine prince. “He fainted?”Daiki sniffed. “Hey, you guys smell anything?”
10269932	Winter of our Youth	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": "Archie Andrews, Josie McCoy, Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper, Valerie Brown, Melody Valentine, Kevin Keller, Reggie Mantle, Cheryl Blossom, Fred Andrews, Hermione Lodge, Sierra McCoy", "Fandom": "Riverdale (TV 2017)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by heroic_pants", "chapters": "13/13", "completed": "2017-07-04", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "112,233", "Additional Tags": "most of these guys will show up at some point, but it starts off with just josie and archie, Platonic Friends, who's a rockstar? whos a rockstar? josie and arch are, cw for mentions of past csa i guess, bonding between opposites with distant parents, i assume archie's mother is distant she moved to a different city when he was at least 15 or younger, Alcohol, References to Drugs, is that enough tags, Canon Divergence", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Archie Andrews/Jughead Jones, Cheryl Blossom/Josie McCoy, Betty Cooper/Veronica Lodge", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "F/F, M/M", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	I’m pedalling backwards, even if I’m pedalling alone, can’t help it, I relive it, I relive it all Bastille – Winter of Our Youth They were flying in a storm. Was it a storm? Really, it can’t have been – way too amateur writer who has just discovered narrative symbolism. She was cold though, the cabin was a little over-air conditioned. She looked over at him. He was staring out of the window, and she couldn’t see his expression. Had he ever been on a plane? Had he ever even left that small, shitty town before? She had often flown around the country to visit her dad on tour – less so when she left ‘cute nine year old you could bring out on stage’ for ‘mature teenager who drew focus too much’, but thinking about it, she barely knew him. She could tell by how he hunched in the seat – like he was trying to make his bulky footballer frame smaller, as if that wouldn’t fail pathetically – that he wasn’t happy. He was like a leaky tap, exposed, his emotions rolled off him in waves. It had always made her irritable around him – he made himself so vulnerable, so open to being exploited, and no one ever called him on it. Her mother and father, if they had ever agreed, had agreed on that lesson. You cannot afford to show weakness, they would say, because they’re looking for a reason to tear black girls down. They had prepared her for the world and yet he just skated by on his earnest puppy-dog eyes and aw-shucks boy-next-door charm, and people rushed to tell him not to give up or how talented he was or whatever crisis he was having. While they had to— She looked away from him. He made her think of them, and thinking of them was painful. She hated him a little more for insinuating himself into those memories. They had been all hers, until he turned up. She thought about them again for a moment, and then forced herself to stop. She had always been preparing for the real world. No one was going to help her get where she was going to go, but her. Or at least not them. * Los Angeles Josie is startled awake by the buzzing of her phone. She is sweating, and the blankets feel like they're strangling her. She fights them off wildly for a moment and lies back. Her dream was already dissipating, leaving just an unsettled feeling. From the impressions in her mind, it was memory. The first time she flew to LA. She shakes her head, triggering a cold-sweat shiver, and grabs for her phone on the nightstand. It's still somewhat dark in her room, and the sudden brightness of her phone’s lock screen makes squint her only half-awake eyes. There are a bunch of new notifications that popped up as her phone turned to the home screen. 6:03am, the screen read, August 1st 2029. She frowns at the screen. Happy 28th Birthday to me, she thinks. Her had mom texted to say, "Happy Birthday Darling! I'm gonna be in meetings all day so I'm slammed, but you're probably going to any number of fun things with your friends and won't miss my call!'But at least that parent cared enough to send her love in a text. She didn't hold high expectations that her dad would even remember, wherever he even was in the world currently.Like she cared, anyway.She is showering when she hears him knock and let himself in. It could only be him; he is the only one with a spare key. “I’ve brought coffee,” He calls out as she left the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a sec,” She calls back from her bedroom. Once dressed, she moves to the living to find him sitting on the couch watching the television. “Anything good?” She asks, sitting down next to him and picking her coffee up. He mutes it. “Same old.” He looked ragged. While he was never usually clean shaven anymore his stubble was becoming a scrubby orange beard, and the bags under his eyes were becoming suitcases. He smiles at her, and for a moment he looked much younger. “Happy birthday, Jose.” She frowns, and makes a unhappy noise. He laughs, and she is once again struck by how grateful she was that he was there and that she got to see him laugh (a privilege, no one really got to see the genuine article anymore) and she hugs him. He hugs her back, tightly.She had never been a big hugger when she was younger. Or rather, she hadn’t really been a hugger of boys. They had been more likely to push you over when they were five, and then more likely to request one in a winking, ‘don’t-i-get-a-hug’ way that made her skin crawl. He didn’t hug like that, he wasn’t like that, and so she doesn’t have to worry about any of that with him. It's just comforting. He releases her and reaches for a gift wrapped box on the couch. “Anyway, happy twenty-eighth. I know you’re weird about birthdays, but you like presents, so there.” He hands her the box. She narrows her eyes at him. “I thought we were going to ignore it this year.” He shakes his head and sighs, exaggeratedly. “You’re such a fuckin’ nerd. Open the box, c’mon.” He used to be much more earnest, when she hadn’t known him, never swore, if he had a sense of humour he had never joked around her. Ten years in this city, in their business, would bring out the hard edge on anyone though. This was the ‘him’ that was her friend though; she didn’t know that other boy. “C’mon, I had one of the label’s P.As pick something really meaningful.” She punches him lightly in the arm, but it had made her laugh, and she begins to open the box. She begins pulling some sparkly midnight blue fabric out of the box, what seems to be a dress, and her heart skips. It wasn’t possible. “I swear to God, Andrews…” She mutters. He grins. She pulls it out fully – a dark blue, long-sleeved, short-skirted dress. It couldn’t be. “This is definitely not what I think it is, Archie.” She says, eyeing him suspiciously. He adopts an innocent face. “If you mean just the dress you wore for our first real gig together, that you loved and then your mother gave away to a charity shop and you were devastated? Yes, possibly.” She looks at him, mystified, and checks the label. It might just be the same kind of dress, and he’d sourced one from the designer. Which was a very sweet idea. She reads the label and gasps. It’s still there, in silver marker: A&J 2020 vision. She hears her voice distantly, it’s about building our brand, Andrews. He laughs. She looks at him, completely confused. “Where did you even find it?” “I had a crack team of spies – “ She punches him in the shoulder again. “Ow! Ok, I was in a consignment store in Silverlake and I found it. It was on display, I might have had to fight my way out of a riot of girls who wanted it.” “You’re such a dork. Why were you even there?” She asks. He is attempting to supress a roguish smile, and failing. “I may have been escorting a lady at the time.” She snorts a laugh. “I’m sure that she loved you combining her date and my present buying.” He laughs. “Hey, the dress was such a rare find. Like I wasn’t gonna buy it! She did get shitty with me, asked if we were sleeping together.” She laughs derisively, louder than the last. “She sounds like a keeper.” “Yeah, she was great. I’m pretty sure she stole my toothbrush.” “You know how to pick ‘em. Maybe try sleeping with less batshit fans? Or just less maybe?” “Fuck off, at least I’m getting some?” It’s pointed, but she knows he doesn’t mean it nastily. It was fair game after the ‘fans’ comment. She only teases him about it, really, everyone has a vice. She scowls at him. “Ok, I give.” She looks at the dress and can’t help smiling again. “Thank you. You damn idiot, I love it.” She leans over to hug him again. “I can’t believe I have to find a better thing for you next year. You’re the worst.” He chuckles, and stretches, yawning, showing the tattoos on his ribcage and upper body. She realises he’s wearing that singlet with the arm holes that extend to the hem, and sighs. “Arch, you know only douche-gym-bros wear singlets like that. Please do me a favour and burn it?” He shakes his head. “We’re not dating Josephine, you can’t veto my clothing choices. Besides I like it, it’s cool in this goddamn heat.” “That and it shows off your abs, Archibald. Don’t front, I know you.” He grins at this, not denying it. He only calls her by her full name to annoy her, but luckily both of their parents had named them for people born decades before them, and so both feel sufficiently elderly to tease each other with. A long time before, he had seemed genuinely surprised Josie was a shortening of Josephine. Then her father had condescended that he probably didn’t even know who Josephine Baker was, but what white sixteen year old boy is that aware of many female jazz age entertainers of the twenties? She’d thought his statement was pure stupidity, although she’s inclined to judge it more kindly now than her sixteen year old self did. He was uncomfortable, just trying to find something to say to her, not used to being disliked. He is checking his phone, and looks up. “Ok, so I know you said you weren’t keen on doing much for your birthday, buuut-“ He said tentatively, a sheepish grin tugging the corners of his mouth. “Don’t love where this is going, Andrews.” She narrows her eyes in suspicion at him. “C’mon, Jose! I just got texted the location of a secret club – we can go have a good time, but it won’t be so public and there won’t be people trying to get in our faces, and we can drink, I can wingman you…” He says, with a hamfisted wink. She rolls her eyes. “I’m not looking for you to hook me up, I’m fine. And you’re a terrible wingman, you’re always getting distracted.” He smirks, but looks at her mock seriously. “I’m not joking, it’s fucking embarrassing. You’re a rockstar who sits around watching Netflix in your spare time. We need to find a pretty girl for you, so you can get laid. Or maybe, even date, how crazy would that be?” He teases, poking her in the ribs. She replies back in the same mock-serious tone, “Oh, and tell me how many serious relationships you’ve attempted in the last two years, Arch?” He smirks a little wryly, and nods. “Ok, fair, but just because I’m terrible at them doesn’t mean you have to be. What if you met someone great?” She knows he’s saying that to make her feel better, because she knows he doesn’t really want someone to come in and change the way things have been for so long. Codependency doesn’t work when your dependent doesn’t depend on you anymore. “We’ve had this conversation, we’re not built for dating. Not with all the touring and the recording and the endless whirlwind that is our lives, I thought we agreed.” She says, feeling slightly annoyed. Having to say this again feels like she’s trying to quickly paper over a scab that’s just been torn open. He nods, in real seriousness this time. He looks at her like he wants to say something, and then impulses built up over ten years override it. She knows exactly what he would have said though, but for his own sake she doesn’t say anything about it. He thinks it would be easier for her to date. Easier than him, but to express the real fear there recalls a gaping chasm of wide-eyed earnestness. They are both too sober, too afraid to want to remember that right now. Just to lighten the mood she gives in. “Fine, we can go out. And if you happen to see anyone you think I would like, you can tell me, and I’ll see what I think.” She jabs him over the curling black text on displayed on his ribs. He grins, mischievous glint in his eye again, façade patched and worn again. He could be a mess with her, is the thing, and she wouldn’t mind. They’ve seen each other at the worst, at the most small and shameful and sad. But the façade of strength and fearlessness is as comfortable as a second skin now and only drops around each other, in the late nights, in the early hours, in the space between show and studio and city and interview. “Fuck yeah! We’re gonna have a good night!” He called out to her empty apartment, laughing. She rolled her eyes, but let out a whoop all the same. The secret club was apparently into 2010s nostalgia, speakers blasting out beats and lyrics to a song she half remembered was on the radio when she was in elementary school. Lying awake, the colours all fade, from the tears on my face I’ve let you slip away/I can kiss whoever I’m wearing the crown Archie had been dancing with her, and then with someone else, but had come back to introduce her (grinning in a way that would have been obnoxious on most other men) to a cute blonde girl he’d been talking to – more California girl than Hitchcock, as a book she’d pretended she hadn’t read once described a character – and now they were dancing together to the song’s skyrocketing freeform of beats. She knew she was beautiful, that had never been her problem. She was driven though, and at the start of her career had only wanted to think of herself – it may have been selfish but she had to, or all the sacrifices she had made would have been for nothing. She found that she was always frustrated trying to please someone for a relationship that would only end because she toured too much, or worked too much, or they were jealous of her closeness with her only bandmate and song-writing partner. She could remember one saying to her once, in all seriousness, “Josie, it’s unnatural for you to hang out with that straight boy as much as you do, what do you even have in common but that town you came from?” Which was firstly, quite presumptuous, and secondly, no one was going to tell her who she could and couldn’t have friendships with. She had ended it that day, and wrote a hit song with Archie about it for their new album. It reached #3 on the charts for five straight weeks. Relationships became anathema to them – a strain on their creative pursuits, a luxury two attractive rising stars didn’t need. Why bother with the pain and stress of it all, when you could have all the fun parts over with a different person every few weeks or months? When they were twenty, twenty-one, they thought they had changed. They thought they were so different to the fifteen, sixteen year olds they’d been. Thought they had it all figured out, finally. It was hard not to look back on them and hate them a little, for having it so easy, for not trying at all. Stuck in a phase, misguided by mistakes The girl dancing with her was beautiful, certainly, not generally her type - but what did it matter? I'm hiiiiigh and riiisiiiing, aliiive now She just wanted to not have to think so, so much, about everything. Tour dates, interview answers, fans, the next album, the next year. It was exhausting. In this moment, her mind hazy, lights flashing epileptic patterns, all of the worries felt millions of miles away. She let go and pulled the girl into a kiss. Happy 28th Birthday, Josie ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- You’ve been acting awful tough lately, smoking a lot of cigarettes lately, but inside, you’re just a little baby – Marina and the Diamonds, I Am Not A Robot Archie wakes early, momentarily disoriented as always by the darkness of a room he didn’t recognise. He is good at this part. Practised. He gets out of the bed and hunts for his underwear, his jeans, his shirt, and then his shoes, pulling them on almost soundlessly. He checks for his phone, realising it is on the nightstand next to the bed. At least he’d had the presence of mind to put it there. On more than one occasion, it had turned up on the other side of the room, and at least once in a bathtub. He grabs it, and pauses for a moment to look at the sleeping figure’s dark hair falling messily onto the pillows. Then he leaves the apartment. He’d was getting an Uber home, but if the driver had recognised him he hadn’t said anything, which he was grateful. Their audience weren’t generally over sixty, anyway. Meeting fans unexpectedly while feeling like shit was awful – you wanted to seem nice, you didn’t want to disappoint, but if it ever happened when you were hung-over you just wanted them to not come up to you. Let me go home and sleep. I can’t be who you want me to be right now, but if I can manage to get my head to stop feeling like a tiny man is jackhammering in there, i’ll be so much nicer. He's thinking about Todd—Toby -- Tom, he wanted to say? – how he’d been nice last night. Tom had accidentally spilled his beer on him, but it had really been his fault. He’d been getting pretty bombed with Josie, and was a little less than co-ordinated, and Tom had apologised immediately and offered to buy him another drink. He had almost completely tattooed arms and the ink ran over his chest and back. A fuzzy memory of running his fingers over the art came to him, “This is insane...how long have these taken you?” He asked, softly. Tom smiled, and brushed inky strands out of his eyes, “Fifteen years maybe? I started when I was fourteen.” “Fourteen? I wouldn’t have even pictured ever getting a single one at that age. My mom would have lost it.” He chuckled, without humour– involuntary, a reflex. Tom brushed his bare arm, right over a tattoo he got for his 22nd birthday. “What does she think of all of them now?” He looked away for a moment. “I don’t know. We’re not close. It’s not a big deal.” That last part was so easy to say now. He almost believed it. He had his fair share of experiences where someone had clearly wanted to pry into his life – what was his childhood like, what was it really like being famous, was he sleeping with Josie – but Tom just smiled sympathetically. “Ay, I get you. My father and I don’t really talk either. I mean he was strict, Puerto Rican dads care a lot, but they’re strict as hell. Or at least that was the same with my friends, and we were skinny little shits trying to get in trouble, trying to sneak into that better part of the city.” Archie was glad he wasn’t being asked about his mother anymore. It was deliberate, kind. “That when you started getting your tats?” He asked. “Yeah...my dad hated ‘em. Thought I was going to join a gang, end up in jail. Fair enough, too.” He paused for a moment, looking at him. “But the thing about it,” he said slowly, “I was a skinny kid, I was full of feelings and thoughts that would’ve made my friends think I was weak, but when we got our first tattoos...it felt like armour to me. With each one I felt like I was leaving that scared, emotional kid behind, you know?” Archie was dragged out of the memory by arriving at his apartment building. He nods to the doorman. As the elevator doors closed, he wonders if he’ll be able to get a nap in, he’d barely slept and his head feels like there are fire-ants crawling around it. Tom had been nice. A few years ago he might have tried: to stay the morning, to call, to see if there was something there. It was a dick move, leaving like that, but that was what it was. He wasn’t looking for someone to date – it always seemed to end badly, no matter how nicely it started. And it always seemed to be his fault, even though he never began with the intention of treating anyone badly. Whether he was dating women or men, it always devolved into either accusations of emotional distance, jealousy, or with men particularly, that he wasn’t as open about it as they wanted. He was more comfortable with it, now, but at the time it wasn’t exactly simple. Fame meant people got all the raw data about you and made up their minds without actually knowing you. He was careful about what he made available for public consumption. He shakes himself as he pours himself a glass of cold water. He’d been thinking about relationships a lot recently, for some horrible reason. Relationships he’d had, whether Josie could have one. He wanted her to have one. Well, that wasn’t true entirely but he did want her to be happy. And if she did have one, he’d be happy for her – but it’d been them for so long, holding each other up. The time they hadn’t talked for six months he’d been the most isolated and lonely he’d been since they first came here. He had no siblings, no real friendships here, and his attempt to actually have a relationship and prove the past wrong had inevitably ended badly, and then he had just been going through the motions for months. He wrote some great songs in that period though. The thing was that she didn’t seem to want one, either. Despite what certain Tumblrs you could find if you were morbidly curious said, they weren’t “waiting for each other” – a ridiculous idea if you actually knew them, especially since Josie had zero interest in men. But like him, he suspected she found the idea exhausting, and threw herself into the music instead. * He was spending the rest of the day sitting in the bay window seat, writing songs and chain-smoking. The smoking was a bad habit. Often he wished he’d never started, but they were in his blood now. He’d tried quitting before but it just made him irritable and antsy. Josie only smoked socially, or when things were really crushing her – if he saw her smoking he really knew things were stressful. When they had made the highly-risky decision to leave their first label she’d sat on the balcony of their old shared apartment and smoked, looking out at the city for hours. Their last album had been released just year, so they weren’t feeling like they needed to release new material yet but he had been thinking of some things lately that he’d never thought of writing about. One prominent music review website had called their latest album, “their most mature effort yet”, which was a strange feeling for him. He certainly didn’t used to be someone who reviewers would have called a mature songwriter, but it also reminded him that he was writing more personal things these days, and it scared him a bit to think people were seeing them. The first songs he had written made him cringe to think of them, and horrifyingly there were probably copies at his dad’s house, but everyone had to start somewhere. He couldn’t sleep. He’d never been in a hotel really before, let alone one this fancy, without his parents. They’d taken him on camping trips, but they stayed in tents or camping grounds mostly. His dad loved to camp, his mum had liked hiking and they’d never been wealthy enough to take overseas vacations. They’d been in Los Angeles a week, and it felt enough like a foreign country already. Josie had been here before, but he hadn’t. It was all he could do not to gape at all the crowds and the incredible amount of tanned, fit, attractive people. Josie said at least half of them were wannabe actors, looking like she already knew they wouldn’t make it and was judging them for it. They had talked to their manager, Joseph, that morning. He was the kind of guy who thought he was really funny but didn’t know how to relate to anyone under thirty, and so made them slightly uncomfortable. Josie was really good at seeming like she was completely interested in what he was saying, and laughing at his jokes like she genuinely loved them. Or maybe she really did feel that way, but he had known her for the past two years and she wasn’t like that with anyone else. He had asked Joseph about writing and had been told that for the first few songs, they were just going to go with what worked – them singing together, which was ‘dynamite, just dynamite’ which was something his dad might have said but in a less exuberant tone – and let some of the label’s more experienced writers write the songs, just until they were more comfortable. That was disappointing. He thought the songs were part of why Joseph had been interested, but he shoved down the thought that now he was falling behind. It was fine, they sung well together. He found himself outside Josie’s door, hesitated, and knocked. She opened the door, looking a little more irritable when she saw him. “Something you need?” He almost swallowed his words and walked away but pressed on. It had been an overwhelming few days, he could understand her irritability. “How did you feel about the meeting with Joseph?” She raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was great. I’m excited to get started.” He nodded. “Totally, totally. But like, don’t you wanna write too? You like writing.” Her expression didn’t change. “I like singing more. I mean, I think we should figure out how we work together before we start writing together too.” He was taken aback slightly. “We’ve written together before.” She frowned. “Not really. Not at this level.” They stood in awkward silence for a moment. “Do you want to practice together a bit now? I’m just nervous.” Her expression deepened past irritation. “It’s almost nine, Andrews! I was going to go to bed in like forty-five minutes anyway, so I can wake up refreshed for tomorrow. I know you’re used to it from everyone at home, but I can’t be your cheerleader here. I’ve gotta look out for myself, do you get that?” She stood there looking angry, and her words hit him like punch in the gut. Which in his experience, he would have rather taken again. She was so right, though. That hurt the most. He searched for something to say so he could leave – somehow he didn’t think it would endear him to her if he cried right here – and landed on a babbling, “Yeah, of course, sorry, I’m an idiot, I’ll go.” She looked at him with a strange expression, less angry but not exactly kind either. He turned to go, but she sighed behind him. “Andrews, c’mon. Let’s do some practice for half an hour. I could use it.” He turned back. She looked like she couldn’t believe she was doing this, but in a softer way. Like she didn’t mean to be that harsh. He tried not to look too happy. His phone rings, and he shakes half remembered rooms and hallways from his mind. "Mr Andrews?" It's one of the label assistants. They're the only ones who addressed him like that and it was weird. That man was his father, it was what the teachers called him on parent-teacher nights. He couldn't see himself having children. It would be cruel to bring a child into the world knowing it would only become part of a broken home. He probably also wouldn't be the parent that stayed. He couldn't do that to a child. "I was just contacted by someone looking to get in touch with you and Miss McCoy, they sent through an invitation," He half-hears the assistant saying. It was fairly regular that they were sent invitations through their representatives at the label. He didn't know if he was feeling up to anything like a gala though. Although the few times they'd attended the Met Ball it had been surprisingly enjoyable - he could be convinced to go to that again. "...were contacted by the head of this RAC, a Cheryl Blossom, a very intense woman..." He abruptly tunes into the conversation. "Sorry, did you say Cheryl? What's the invite for?" The assistant pauses a moment. "Yes, that's the name I wrote down. The invite is from a Riverdale Alumnus Committee, have you heard of it?" "No," He says slowly. "What's the invite for?" "Apparently, there is a ten year reunion on for the class of '19, in two months, in Riverdale." "Uh," He says. "If you don't mind me asking, wasn't that the year you graduated high school?" "Mm," He replies. She is quiet a moment. "Two months is a very short window of notice, I can tell them that you guys are too busy to make it. It is across the country..." He felt horribly awkward for the poor assistant, who could clearly tell he didn't know what to say, and was trying to give him an out. He finds his tongue. "Uh - no! I mean, no. Can you send it to me? I - We'll think about it." "Sure, Mr Andrews." She says professionally, like he is speaking like a normal person and not a babbling idiot. "You can just call me Archie - Mr Andrews sounds old, y'know?" "Ok, 'll send the invite through now...Archie." She sounds strange saying that, like if you ever see a teacher after high school and they ask you to call them by their first name. How had it never once occurred to him that something like this was coming. Josie was going to have a fucking heart attack when he told her. * He didn't really know how to bring it up with her. He couldn't know what her reaction would be exactly but he could tell it wouldn't probably be good. They're hanging out in his apartment, not really talking, just writing and working out some chords, when she stops abruptly. "Ok, what's with you?" She asks, raising her eyebrow. He deflects. "What? I'm fine." She gives him a sceptical look. "Don't what me, you've been weird for days. What's up?" He rests his guitar against his stomach and he sighs. Better now than never. "The label sent through a invitation for us." She's looking puzzled. "It could be fun. What's the problem?" He gives her a wary look. "Wait until you hear what it is...It's our ten year school reunion." Josie freezes. "Yeah." "Fuck." "Fuck." They sit in silence for a moment. "How did they contact you? Who was it that contacted you?" "The label assistant told me Cheryl got in contact with them. Apparently she's like, head of the Alumni Council now or something." He didn't imagine the slight, but sharp intake of breath when he mentioned her. "Sounds like her." She says distantly. "I think she scared the assistant. "Very intense" were her words, I think." He adds, with the slightest hint of humour. There is the smallest strand of a laugh in her voice when she replies, "That does sound like her." They sit in silence again, figuring out what to say, how to come at this unexpected problem. "Fuck this," She bursts out abruptly. "I need a smoke. No - I need a joint. You're going to have to share yours though." He accepted this without protest. It was all very well to argue over who paid for more lunches, or bottles of milk when you were eighteen and you still didn't understand what it was like to have real money, but they had shared enough costs at this point it wasn't an issue. * There is a room in his apartment with dark walls, a rounded ceiling, and a round stained glass skylight. He could not tell you what the creators of the addition were thinking when they built it, but it is one of his favourite parts of the apartment. They lie on the round, faded Turkish rug, and pass the cigarette between each other, staring up into the skylight, listening to the crackle of the Mamas and Papas singing about the leaves being brown and the sky being grey. He didn't know them at sixteen. He didn't know a lot at sixteen. He exhales. "We don't have to go." She considers without looking at him. "I mean, two months is a short notice period. We're busy people." He nods, staring at the way the skylight distorts the light. "Right? We're famous musicians. There are big music festivals that know to book us earlier than that." She nods slowly. "It's almost rude. Why not just call two days beforehand? I bet Beyonce doesn't have to deal with this shit." "True, but as I remember, she does leave an impression...I don't think her school would be able to contact her a year out, even." Josie giggles. He turns his head. "What?" He asks croakily. "I'm thinking about how I was so nervous I almost threw up on her...that would have made an impression." She giggles, a half-anxious noise. He giggles at the memory too. "She's too famous to go to her high school reunion anyway. I wish we were that famous." "To be fair, how can anyone measure up to her? We're seasoned professionals." She laughs at this, and he laughs too. "So we're not going, is that our decision?" She nods. "Definitely not. We're too busy and famous." "Right on." They lie in silence for a while. "I wonder if Veronica is going? I wonder if they called her earlier than us..." Josie says softly. He frowns. They don't usually talk about her. "If she's not busy with a press junket, or filming somewhere exotic, maybe." "She'd love to do a victory lap though, show everyone how well she did." Josie replies, frowning slightly. "But we don't want to do one." "Certainly not." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Don't know where I'm running, But I know how to run, Cause running's the thing I've always done, Oh, I don't know what I'm doing, But I know what I've done, I'm a hungry heart I'm a loaded gun Passenger – 27 It had been a week of back and forth with the decision. One day they certainly weren't going, the next day it would be nice to see their hometown again, the next it was a terrible place and that's why they hadn't been back in ten years. It filled Josie's mind, wherever she was. She was running on the treadmill, which usually cleared her head but all she could think of was the idea of going back. If they met with their families, they usually flew them out to L.A, or occasionally to whatever city they were touring. It was easier for them - they were both only children, and they both only had one emotionally supportive parent anyway. Her mom actually loved coming out to the West Coast, saying it was so much sunnier, warmer than home. She supposed that was true, but her childhood memories of home were always of playing in sun-dappled parks, feeling warm and happy. It was probably memory bias, though. High school hadn't been like that anyway. It probably wasn't helping that she had a workout playlist playing on her phone, songs she was listening to when she was in school. But they were good - sometimes you needed a little nostalgia. Did she want that much more of it though? She concentrated her efforts again and turned the speed up, Sia playing loudly through her earbuds. And I know that I can survive, I walked through fire to save my life And I want it, I want my life so bad, And I'm doing everything I can. * Archie was quieter too. They would pump themselves up for a secret show, or something, but would return from it quiet and pensive. They're at hers, watching some movie, and she looks over at him. "Do you want to go?" He looks her, conflicted. "I don't know. No, we decided against it." "But what do you want to do?" She fixes him with a stern look. He sighs, and doesn't speak for a moment. "I don't know. I think - we're already thinking of this too much. If we don't go, it'll just be another thing in the back of our minds, y'know?" She considers it. "What if it's exactly like we're fearing?" He shrugs. "Then we can go home to our real lives. We don't have to stay there." She nods slowly. "I'm not going if you don't want to though." He says seriously. She smiles at him. "I think I probably should. Ugh, fine. Let's do this." * A few days before they’re meant to leave she awakes in the early morning because her phone is ringing. She looks at the screen, and picks it up, sitting up immediately. All she can hear is heavy breathing on the end. She can imagine him crouched next to his bed, or beside the bath in his apartment, struggling to breathe, heart racing. She speaks calmly into the phone. “Ok , Arch. Breathe with me. Just one little breath in.” She inhales a measured breath. Then she exhales out. She does it a few times until she’s sure he’s doing it with her. His breath becomes more measured. She doesn’t say anything, just waits. “I can’t – I’m not prepared for this. I can’t – I’m not,” He says, anxiety punctuating each word. “Breathe.” She tells him. His breathing slows again as she listens. “What are we doing, Jose? This is a bad idea.” He says in a small voice. “I don’t know. I think we have to do it now, though. You can do this. We can do this.” He doesn’t say anything. “Who’s a rockstar?” He chuckles weakly. They used to say it when one of them was upset, in the beginning. “We can face it all together.” She says softly. “Ok. Together.” He says resolutely, still sounding a bit shaky. “Fuck, I’m-“ She cuts him off. “I know you’re not about to apologise right now. Get some sleep OK?” “If you do.” He replies. “You know I love you right?” “I know. I love you too.” He hangs up and she lies back. She hadn’t gotten a four AM panic attack call in a while. The first time she’d witnessed one she’d had no idea how to help, and it was terrifying. Researching them gave her the breathing tip, and she’d worked through enough of them now that she felt like an old hand – but she still felt like she could only help so much. Yet she was the one who told him to call her if it was happening. It would seem like he was so needy, except that he’d been there for her in the same way, when she’d been sad or sick – holding her hair back when she drank too much at a label Christmas party and was sick, silently comforting her if he found her crying when she’d thought he was asleep. She sighs and tries to fall back to sleep, trying not to think about what the week ahead will bring. * Josie isn’t feeling as confident as she had tried to convince Archie she was about this though. He had his own, real, reasons to not want to go home – but he had burned less bridges when he’d left town than she had. And mostly, his ghosts weren’t still living in town. She is waiting on him to finish packing – he still leaves it to the last minute, even after years of her reminding him to start early like she always does. Although it might also have been an anxiety thing. “Have you seen my motorcycle jacket?” He asks, rushing around the bedroom, throwing things into the suitcase. “You’re wearing it.” He looks down, and then looks up. “Oh. Right.” He says distractedly. “This is isn’t as scary as the first music festival we played. Remember, you were willing to give up right there and then.” She says to him, trying to distract him from stressing. He gives her a sceptical look. “That was just thousands of people we didn’t know, who were just going to judge us on our performance. This is worse.” She lets out a garbled noise of frustration and braces his arms so she can stop him moving about for a moment. “It’s just different. If I can do this you can do this. Now suck it the hell up.” He laughs in surprise. “Well we won’t be able to go if you don’t help me with this.” She shakes her head. “You’re a grown-ass man, Andrews, c’mon.” She says, but picks up some clothing from the bed with a smile. * Airports are certainly not unfamiliar places to them, but this is the first time they’re flying back to the one they left from a decade ago, and it feels strange. It shouldn’t, it’s just another airport, they been to so many they blur together but it does feel strange. They’re used to playing cities, mostly, so flights are usually direct and close to their destination as possible. Not so in a small town – they’re flying to the nearest regional airport in Syracuse then picking up a rental car and driving down till they get to town. They could have hired a driver, even arrive in town in a limousine, but it would be too conspicuous. They don’t want to announce their arrival to everyone before they’re ready. Josie notices Archie absent-mindedly scratching at the skin around his nail beds. She nudges him, subtly. “Don’t.” * She is seven years old and she just wants to dance. Her daddy has a big wall full of records (that’s what he called them) and he plays music off them. Each one is like a secret treasure to be discovered. The music is so loud it feels like it’s coming from her and not the tall black boxes leaning on the wall. Daddy dances with her, and it’s the best feeling in the world. She knows that he sometimes has to go away to make music for other people – that’s what Momma says, but he always comes back. She loves it when he comes back. “Look at you go, Josephine! We named you right, baby!” He says, holding her arm so he can spin her. She giggles. He sings along to the music, holding her hands and moving her. He has such a nice voice. “Don’t you ever be sad, lean on me when times are bad.” He sings to her. The song makes her feel warm to her core. “Listen to that horn section!” He says, loudly. “Josie, I want you to listen here, Jazz is the purest expression of music. But after that you gotta get that Soul music. This is what has worth, has meaning.” She nods intently, but only sort of understands. “You gotta be legit baby, that’s the only way.” He smiles at her, warmly. Momma comes in, laughing. “Don’t scare her, Myles.” He laughs, and takes Momma’s hand and dances with her. She laughs and laughs. She’s so happy. Josie dances around, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. She wakes from her dream shaking her head. The prospect of going home is stirring up things she thought she’d forgotten, and she doesn’t like it. Dancing with her dad is one of her oldest memories of him, one of the only of her parents when they were together, happy. She has no illusions about them. They were attracted to each other because they were opposites – a beautiful small town poli-sci major who met a charismatic young musician from the big city when they both took shelter in the same cafe during a downpour – but they fought like crazy, they broke up, and got back together for nearly nine years, until they made it final when she was eight. She looked over at Archie, napping in the seat next to her, and turned to rest her head on the shaded window, hoping he was having more pleasant dreams. * “Come on, Arch!” A high pitched, child’s voice called out to him. He ran after her, seeing her blond ponytail bob up and down. “Wait for me, Betty!” He called out. She was faster than him, though Dad said this would change someday. She was taller, too. They were running off to their place they’d found in a spot in the woods. Not in the dark part they weren’t allowed to visit, but a part that was always sunny and wasn’t as full of trees. It was right at the back of their houses so they were allowed to play there. But it was also their secret – Betty’s mom thought she was just over at his house playing. She scared him a little, because she was always giving him a look like he’d been bad. It was like she could see into his thoughts. He sometimes thought she was a witch, although he didn’t tell Betty this. They’d found it while “going on an adventure” – Betty’s favourite thing to say, from a book her dad read to her that she loved. Going on an adventure for him usually involved running after Betty, somewhere. She had wanted to “explore” – look around the sunny trees behind their house, see what they could find. He was very happy to just play in the backyard where they could get home easily, but he didn’t argue with her when she wanted to explore somewhere. They raced back, climbing the rungs of the ladder up into the small wooden house. “Do you think someone used to live here?” He asked her. Betty looked around. “They would have had to be very small.” ~~ But Betty’s mom had found out or gotten mad about something, and now she wasn’t allowed to leave the house except with a parent. He was glad his parents were not nearly as scary. She had frowned at him from her window that faced his, mouthing ‘sorry’, and he had nodded back from his window – but she had Polly, even when she was stuck at home, she’d always had another best friend. He only had her. He wandered into the woods behind the house – Dad had said it was ok if he didn’t go far, and he was going far, really. It was scarier by himself, and as he climbed the ladder by himself he felt like eyes were watching him. Betty had once told him a story about a werewolf living in the woods that was so scary he hadn’t been able to sleep for a week without having nightmares. It was just a story. Just a story. There were more things in the treehouse though. Cups and a little sleeping bag. And a headband with round, furry ends like Dad had for when he was mowing, but older looking – connected to a little machine. He put them on, and looked at it, figuring out how to turn it on, and pressing the buttons until something happened. Music started playing after one – a song he’d never heard. It was slow, kind of creepy. The singer was repeating himself. He nearly jumped out his skin when he started yelling, and he couldn’t understand it but it was so loud. He kept listening to it though – it felt like his mom wouldn’t approve of this song at all. Or dad, maybe. It was weird, and creepy but he kept listening. During a quieter bit he thought he could hear something outside but he couldn’t think how to turn the music off, and it kept speeding up, and he could feel someone on the ladder but he was rooted to the spot and couldn’t even take off the headband. It was the werewolf, he was going to be eaten and this was going to be the last thing he heard. A figure popped up in the doorway, a big black figure, and he yelled even though he couldn’t hear it. The figure frowned, and he realised it was just wearing black clothes and a little black beanie. And it wasn’t that big. It was just a boy. Who looked mad and reached for him, and he shrank back, and the boy grabbed the headband off him, and pressed a button on it so Archie couldn’t even hear the song anymore. “What are you doing in my treehouse?” The boy said. “Your treehouse?” He managed to get out, though he his heart was beating so fast he felt like he might die. “I found it.” He said, not wanting to get Betty in trouble. The boy looked angry. “And you’re listening to my CD. You can’t just use other people’s things!”He pointed at the little machine. “I thought I lost this!” Archie shook his head. “I’m-I’m sorry. My friend is stuck at home, and I was exploring and I came here and it was just there and I only wanted to see what it did and then I couldn’t turn off the creepy screamy song and I thought you were a werewolf-“ He let out in a panicked babble. The boy smiled, unexpectedly, and then laughed. “I’m not a werewolf. Wish I was. Is that why you screamed at me?” Archie blushed. “It was a creepy song.” “You probably shouldn’t do that, you look like you’re on fire.” The boy said, then added, “So you like Nir-vana?” He said it like he’d only heard someone else say it before. Archie shook his head, not really knowing what he meant. “No...” “Are you in my class at school? I’m in Miss Kenny’s first grade class A.” He asked suddenly. The kid nodded slowly. “What’s your name?” “Archie.” He held out his hand. He wasn’t sure why but he’d seen grown-ups do it. The kid took it, smiling. “Jughead.” “What kinda name is THAT?” Archie awakes with the rattle of the food trolley, thinking about a name he’d been avoiding since they decided to come back. * They’re driving down and old stretch of road belting out some 80s synth pop to get psyched. The reunion isn’t even for a few days, but it’s better than playing sad music. A-Ha’s frenetic keyboard intro is playing loudly as they pass the old town sign, and give each other a look. It’s impossible to be too worried though when you’re blasting ‘Take On Me’ from your speakers, and they laugh as they pass into the town limits. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Cause we’re circles, we’re circles you see, we go round and round the sun, in and out like the sea, I’ll circle round you and you’ll circle around me Passenger - Circles “So you’re sure you wanna do this?” Josie asks him. “Why not stay in the hotel with me? They’d give you a room with a double bed, I’m sure.” He shakes his head. “Ok one, it’s a B&B, you know the closest thing this town has to a hotel is that and that seedy pay-by-the-hour motel.” She snorts at this. “And, two...I don’t know. I never get to see him anymore. And I’m tired of hotels, or B&Bs. I don’t know. I’m doing this.” She gives him a look. “Alright, have fun.” She smiles, and salutes him when he gets out, then drives off.He stares up at the weatherboard house again – older even now, but just as canary-yellow as he remembers –and walks up to the front door, and knocks. It opens. “You’re home!” His dad opens the door, beaming and pulls him into a hug. He returns it emphatically. It’s been maybe nine months since he’d seen his Dad in the flesh – having flown him to Portland for a show they did, but that had really been a quick catch-up as they’d had to go onto another city the next night so they’d only seen each other for dinner. It surprises Archie how much he’s missed him. “Come in, come in.” Dad says, and Archie walks into a home he hasn’t been inside in a long time. * Josie checks into the tiny B&B and is unpacked in a few minutes. It’s still run by old Mrs Baker, who used to come to their class for careers day and talk about running the B&B, and she doesn’t seem to have changed it at all in over a decade, if not more. When she’d checked in Mrs Baker had recognised her, but had thought she had only just left town last year. “You haven’t changed, dear!” She laughed, and Josie smiled along, privately somewhat annoyed. Oh no, I’ve just aged ten years and become famous, no biggie. It was petty, but she was hoping that wasn’t the only response she got this week. Archie had wanted to stay for a few days and catch up with his Dad, so they weren’t just going to go to the reunion and leave. She understood how he felt, needing some time to work up to it, but did they have to spend that time here? They would almost certainly have some awkward encounters before Saturday. But he said that waiting till the last minute would probably lead to them chickening out, and they had to come. The room is very basic – there’s a TV and free Wifi but she’s had enough of wasting time reading articles on her phone. It buzzes. Someone told me you just took off to go to some high school thing? Tell me that’s wrong girl. There are a few texts like this that have been coming in, from ‘friends’ back home. They’re weird kinds of friends – there for a good time, fun to be around, but not close at all. She ignores the text, and gets up. She decides to look around. Coming into the back-garden seating area she can hear someone talking loudly, probably into a phone as she can only hear one half of the conversation. “No, I can’t do the 15th – No, I’m in Berlin on that day – Yes, of course I’m – Ok, I don’t love your tone—“ Josie wonders whether she can sneak back inside before the brunette woman turns around and sees her. But as she attempts to leave the woman turns, looking annoyed – then her eyes widen slightly as she catches sight of her. “No, ok, I’m not doing this right now, you’re stressing me out – Jack? Jack!” She says, returning attention to the call, and then pulling her phone away from her ear and staring daggers at it. They both stare at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say. “Agent?” Josie ventures. “No, uh, fiancée.” Veronica replies slowly. Josie nods, wondering why this surprises her. She must have seen something about it on a magazine back home. “Congrats.” She says, mostly out of habit. Without thinking too much about it, she says, “Everything ok?” Veronica smiles, like it’s no big deal. It might work on the public, but Josie remembers her “pretending everything is alright” smile well. They’d been friends once.“Wedding planning is stressful, is all. We’ve got a professional but Jack doesn’t like what they’re doing, and he’s trying to lock in a date where neither one of us will be promoting, or filming.” She says, and then looks like she hadn’t meant to say so much.“I’m sorry. I hope you work it out.” She says automatically. It’s not that she doesn’t mean it, she does, but it’s a weird thing to have such a normal conversation with someone you haven’t spoken to in seven years.“Is it weird I’m nervous? I mean I shouldn’t be.” Josie asked Archie.He shook his head next to her.“No, we worked hard on this album. I’m nervous too.” He agreed.“Good.”She breathed in and out, feeling a little nauseous. “I’m just going to find a bathroom, before it starts.”It’s not exactly their first Grammys – but they had more creative control on this album, wheedled Joseph into letting them write some songs. She was proud of the first one, wouldn’t have allowed it to be released if she hadn’t thought it was good – but this one was better.She hoped she wasn’t going to ruin her own night by throwing up before it started. The pre-show drink she’d had was bubbling uncomfortably in her stomach. She found the bathrooms, and they were empty – but for one woman drying her hands.They looked at each other, frozen for a minute.“Long time no see, bestie.” Veronica said crisply.She assumed an expression of casual detachment. “Yeah, I don’t remember getting any messages from you either. Guess you lost my number?”Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t put this on me, Josie. You both left saying you’d keep in touch, and I’ve been in contact with you what three, four times since you left?”“Well, I’m sorry that I’ve just been busy trying to follow my life-long ambition. You should know how hard it is to keep afloat here!” Josie retorted. It was a deflection but she wasn’t wrong, either.“Then you’d know how busy I am too, so don’t you guilt me!”They stood in angry silence. Someone was going to come in soon and leak the story to some dumb gossip blog, and then there’d be some twitter-trending article about their feud. It was hardly a feud.“What are you doing here anyway?” She asked, less loudly.Veronica flipped a section of hair over her shoulder. “My boyfriend Kestrel is nominated for best breakout album. I’m just here supporting him.”Josie nodded. “We’re nominated for that one too.”Veronica raised her eyebrows minutely. “I’ll wish you both luck then.” She said, paused like she wanted to say more, and turned to leave.That had spelled the end of her and Archie’s friendship too, giving way to just a few awkward glimpses of each other over the years. Josie felt guilty about this but really, it had only been the last nail in a coffin of their own making.“I didn’t know if you’d show up for the reunion,” Josie says awkwardly.Veronica nods. “They contacted me about six months ago.”She shook her head, an unwitting smile slipping out. “I knew it.” She mutters.Veronica raises a well-practiced eyebrow. “What?”“It’s nothing,”Veronica raises both eyebrows now, somehow conveying a lot of meaning with the action.“We just thought you would’ve gotten more notice than us, and we were right.” She says tentatively, trying not to sound like she’s annoyed about it.Veronica faintly grins at this, unexpectedly. “I mean, I do have a busy schedule.”There is silence. “So did Cheryl contact you? How did she get in contact with you?” Veronica says suddenly.Josie looks at her, momentarily speechless. “Uh – she called our label and managed to get them an invite, which they told us about.” She says, affecting a casual tone. She hopes. “I think she browbeat one of the PAs into doing it.”Veronica smiles wider again at this. “Yeah she found a way to getting my manager’s number and abused it mercilessly until he got me to come.”Josie smiles at little at this, but it feels like a rusty hinge, a faded copy of a feeling brought on by location nostalgia. “Sounds like her. Is that why you’re in this lovely place? I can’t imagine it was your first choice?” She says, changing the subject.Veronica sighs. “Ugh. I know, right? I wanted to stay at the Pembrooke, but I keep forgetting that Mom’s renting it out these days. So it was either this or staying miles out of town, probably near a highway.”Josie nods sympathetically. It feels like old times, but how much longer are they going to pretend that there isn’t a proverbial elephant right in the middle of the courtyard.She goes to say something but Veronica gets there first.She looks like she is hesitating for a moment, which is unlike her, then she says, “Do you want to get a drink? I’m already bored and I’ve only been here a few hours.”It’s an overture – one Josie is incredibly grateful for, as they’re both stubborn, you-blink-first people. She smiles, nodding. “Although if I we can get alcohol and bring it back here, I’d be very grateful.”Veronica grins, and Josie is viscerally reminded of her when they first met. “You’re totally right. Although one of us is going to have to sneak it past Mrs Baker. I can’t see her allowing it.”Josie returns the grin.*They’re sitting against the side of the bed, having flopped down from the top, and they’re laughing so much Josie feels again like she’s seventeen again.The cocktails Veronica made from a makeshift cocktail shaker are helping, though not much feels like it’s changed there either. Now they’re just wealthy enough to buy their own instead of swiping it from parental liquor cabinets.Veronica sighs. “I really missed you. God, I wish I’d tried to contact you after I saw you at that show, I’m sorry.” Her words are slightly slurred, but not much.Josie swats at her, lazily. “You already said sorry. I was the asshole there. I’m ”Veronica laughs. “Maybe we were both assholes.”“Agreed.” Josie giggles. “I missed you too, girl...it’s just so easy to get wrapped up in your own bullshit back home. I was so focussed on us getting there, whatever there was, being able to be seen by everyone.” She shrugs.“You’d didn’t do too badly. It’s hard to find people who haven’t at least heard of you, if they’re not obsessed and telling me I have to hear your new album.” Veronica says, poking her in the side and smiling.Josie laughs, looking at her in mock surprise. “Our little ol’ band? I don’t think we compare to Miss Movie Star here.”Veronica smiles, in the way that always made Josie think she’d be famous one day, too. Self-assured, confident without seeming obnoxious; born of money and privilege without seeming bratty. “Well, you know how it is, you work with a few good directors and suddenly you’re the Next Big Thing.” She says this with a thread of sarcasm, like she’s aware of what bullshit it is, which makes it feel like more than just a practised response to an interview question.“I always knew you would.” Josie says.Veronica smiles softer at this. “You too.” She says. “You know, I listened to your last album. I loved it...It made me cry, some of it.” She looks at Josie. “How is he?”Josie sighs. They had been circling around it, afraid to bring him up. Maybe because as long as they hadn’t, they could almost feel like the last decade or so hadn’t really happened, and everyone was still young and happy.She mentally chastises herself for that. She of all people knew that even then, none of them had been untouched by tragedy and trauma. They were just dealing with the aftershocks now.She looks at Veronica, who looks genuinely worried and a little afraid, possibly. She had a habit of saving people at school – hiding how much she actually cared under layers of cool confidence and sassy remarks. That clearly hadn’t changed in the last decade.“Archie’s ok. Well, he’s not...” She pauses, swallowing. “I think he’s doing better. We’re with a better label, now. And he’s not, he’s not so-“ She is surprised to realise she’s crying, and wonders if she’s drunker than she thought. Veronica puts a comforting arm around her. She really has missed her, has forgotten what it’s like to have close friends who are girls, not girlfriends she ends up fighting with.She breathes out. “I don’t want to be gossiping about him, I just – it got bad for a while, we were both in a bad place, and I still don’t know if I’m helping him. But I’m the only one he talks to if he’s feeling like shit. I just... worry about him, I guess.”“Look, Jose, I know I haven’t seen you guys in a while, so I don’t know your lives now,” Veronica says softly. “But, and I’m not trying to guilt you, one of the things that made me feel cut off from you was when I did see you both, you had grown so much closer. I didn’t – I guess I was afraid you didn’t need me.”Josie looks at her. “Really? I thought you were starting to think you didn’t need us.”Veronica smiles, ruefully. “Never. So don’t worry, Jose, I’m sure you’re invaluable to him.”It didn’t mean she was enough, but she smiled. “He liked that film you got a Golden Globe for. Well, we both did. It should have gotten the Oscar.”Veronica nods. “Yeah, you know. Politics. I’ll get ‘em next time.”“Did you...” She trails off, unsure how to phrase the question, and takes another sip of her drink. “Were you afraid? Was there ever a...moment... when you were afraid of if how people would look at you if you played that role?”Veronica seems to get her meaning anyway, and thinks for a moment, and takes another sip.“Maybe when I was first starting out, I would’ve. And maybe, I’m not as visibly queer as I’d like to be – but I don’t think I’d care if the world found out. I’ve known who I was for years, and if ignoring that for the Bible-belt middle America means passing on good films, out of fear? I say, fuck that noise!” She says, a familiar rebellious gleam in her eyes.“Right on!” Josie cheers, then sags a little. “I spent way longer than I should have hiding it. I’m not even exactly honest about it now, I’m just not making as much of an attempt to hide it from them all.”Veronica squeezes her shoulder. “I get it. It’s not like you want to make a press release about it, for everyone to eat up.”Josie shrugs. “We did attend LA Pride this year. That was as good as an admission as I feel like anyone is entitled to.”Veronica laughs, and then gives her a funny look.“What?” Josie giggles.Veronica bites her lip, half-smiling. “Did Archie ever figure it out?”Josie laughs, half-surprised. “Uh, figure out what?” She says, even though she’s aware of the answer. Even through a haze of drinks, she’s aware that it would be a shitty friend move to out him to an old friend who might not know, and who he hasn’t seen in years.Veronica gives her a look. “C’mon, I know. I pretty much guessed senior year. I’m not looking to tell a gossip website – I’ve just wondered about it sometimes.”Josie bites her tongue a moment. Of course she knew, because she knew everything. She had a way of getting you to talk.“Ok, but don’t, let on you know until he’s ready to tell you.” Josie caves.“So, don’t yell “HEY LOOK, GINGER BISEXUAL ONCOMING!” if I see him jogging around the town?” Veronica says, laughing.Josie laughs in spite of herself.“Honestly, I think you probably figured it out before he did. He didn’t even tell me till we were, what nearly twenty-one? I don’t know... I think he was just tired of trying to – not – be.”“I’m glad, then. Is he – happy?” Veronica asks quietly.Josie frowns. “Romantically, it’s complicated. We don’t really do relationships. There are...issues.”“Tell me about it.” Veronica agrees. “I mean I have Jack. Which is good. He’s a good guy. Mostly.” She is focusing on the end table behind Josie while saying this.“I’d hope so, you’re marrying him.” Josie says, catching her eye.Veronica sighs, and throws up her arms up messily. “I know! He asked me to marry him after a year, and that didn’t sound too bad at the time...” She trails off. “We’re a good couple – but we’re always away from each other, and he might be cheating on me...I just wonder if he’s it for me? I don’t know if we even love each other enough to do this...”She leans her head on Josie’s shoulder. “Am I a bad person, Jose? Am I leading him on?”“You’re asking the wrong girl, Ronnie. I’ve always been the emotionally unreliable one in my relationships.” Josie replies sagely. Drunkenly, maybe but sagely.“I guess neither of us knows what we’re doing.” Veronica says, muffled partly by Josie’s shoulder.“Is there... maybe a reason you’re not so into your movie-star fiancée then? Someone you’re not over yet?” Josie hints heavily.Veronica sits up immediately. “Don’t go there, Jose.”But Josie has come this far, she may as well ask. “Did you come back for Betty?”Veronica frowns, but surprisingly, doesn’t get mad at her. “C’mon – it’s been like, eight years since I’ve seen her... And you know, she’s not interested... AND I have a fiancée, ugh!”Josie holds up her hands. “Hey, I’m just asking because you know I won’t judge you.”Veronica sinks back against the bed. “Ok, I – I don’t know. I just want to – see her. Maybe.” She turns to Josie with a devilish look. “Which begs me to ask – you came back for her, didn’t you?”Josie goes to sip her drink and finds it empty, and so grabs the vodka bottle abandoned near the end table, and takes a swig of it.Veronica raises her eyebrows. “Wow, that bad? I’m also afraid to see Cheryl but not that much.”“I’m not afraid.” Josie croaks. The name still stirs a mixture of emotions around her stomach but that isn’t one of them. “There are other people I’m afraid to see – but not her. She acted exactly like I thought she would, don’t know why I was ever surprised.”Veronica leans her head against Josie’s. “Well at least you know she wanted you here. That’s something.”Josie snorts. “Yeah, as a famous musician get for her big party. Not as anything else.”Veronica doesn’t say anything, but entwines a comforting hand with Josie’s.Having a ‘family dinner’ is a weird feeling, for Archie. When he last lived here, they only used the dining table sometimes, preferring the couch and coffee table in the living room. It felt sadder somehow after it became just the two of them to use all that space.No, well, they used it when Jughead was here, when he moved in with them. He remembers a glimpse of laughter and warmth, and decides to stop thinking about it.“This pasta is really good, Hermione.” He says to the new third member of the table. Well, it’s been years, he should really stop thinking of it as ‘new’.She smiles graciously, with warmth, looking so much like her daughter. “Thankyou, Arch. I have to think of these things or your dad would only ever eat steak.”He laughs. “Or takeout from Pop’s.” Hermione laughs too.His Dad looks mock-offended. “I’m being attacked on all sides here!” He says, but he’s smiling, and they’re laughing. Hermione looks at him like he’s ridiculous, and she loves it and he grins back like she’s the sun and he’s just happy to be in her orbit. Archie tries to remember if his mom and dad ever looked like that when they were together, maybe it was earlier than he can remember. He hasn’t looked at someone like that in years.He notices something else pass in their shared gaze, like he’s prompting her.“So, you’re in town til the reunion on Saturday night?” Hermione asks, a little too casually.He nods. “Yeah, that’s the plan. Then Josie and me are back to L.A.”They’re watching his reaction, he realises. What are they gonna say? He’s not exactly the flip-a-table type.“We were thinking, since Veronica’s coming into town too, that it might be nice to have a dinner with all of us. Maybe tomorrow night?” Hermione continues.“I mean, it’s hardly a bad thing that our kids are so successful, but it’s rare we’re all the same place at the same time.” His dad adds, smiling at him in a slightly apologetic way.True, this is sort of by design – Veronica and he have been avoiding ‘family’ things together for years, and they’ve barely glimpsed each other only a handful of times in the last few years. But he’s not a child anymore; he’s not going to freak out if they just want them all to have dinner together, as uncomfortable as that may end up being.He smiles at them. “That’s fine with me.”He sees their expressions visibly relax and wonders if they’ve asked Veronica yet. In his experience, she was the one more likely to get angry.“So when does she get in?” He asks.“Oh, she got in today, too. I think it was earlier than she wanted, but it ended up being today.” Hermione says, looking happy he’s asking. “She’s at Mrs Baker’s B&B – which she didn’t love, but she wasn’t keen on staying here either, so it was this or way out of town...”He took this in, wondering how Josie was, and if she’d run into Veronica yet.Jogging, usually a mind-clearing experience for Archie, was again different here. It flooded his mind with nostalgia – memories of running down Elm, walking home together on Kennedy Ave, how the trees looked in the fall in the early morning.The old song playing on his phone is frenetic, makes him feel energetic. He used to feel like if he could just keep running, just keep going, eventually he’d get far enough away from it all.Hold me again don’t count mistakes, I lost track of themHe runs past the corner where he sprained his ankle falling off the back of Jughead’s bike, seeing for a moment a young, dark haired eleven-year-old speeding along on a rusty child’s bike and a red-headed boy standing on the back and holding onto his shoulders, both of them cheering madly.I’d be alright if I could just see you come up for air, come up for air.He realises suddenly where his memory-drenched brain has unwittingly taken him past and he feels like he’s gonna be sick. Charlotte Street looms ahead. His breathing speeds up.He doesn’t need to go down there. He doesn’t need to see if he can stand outside her house. It’s just a house, it’s ok, she doesn’t live there anymore.It doesn’t feel like that though. If he goes down there will he be a teenage boy, a child in an adult body he’s not used to yet?He really does feel like he’s gonna be sick, if he can just find a less residential street, he just needs to get out of the public –“Wow, could you watch where you’re going, bro?” The last word is heavily sarcastic, but the whole sentence belongs to a familiar voice. He’s bumped into someone, unaware of anything in his rush to get away, and is now realising that semi-hot liquid is soaking into his shirt.He jumps back out of instinct, and sees Kevin Keller in front of him, carrying an empty cardboard coffee tray and wearing a stunned expression.“Ho-ooly shit.” He says slowly, like he’s frozen on the spot.Archie looks down and sees three coffee cups and the rest of the liquid that isn’t on him pooling on the ground. By some miracle of physics, it seems to have barely touched Kevin’s crisp, light-blue shirt.“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, Kevin.” He pants, the three-quarters-of-a-mile he’s already run catching up with him. “I should have been watching where I was going.”Kevin unfreezes, a very Kevin-like mixture of disbelief and awe on his face. “That is true, but I didn’t just give you third degree burns there, did I?”Archie thinks for a moment, but there’s only the sense memory of the coffee’s heat on his chest now. “No, I’m fine. I barely felt it.”Kevin’s still watching him like he’s a rare species of bird. “I’m sorry, this is just really What are you doing on my coffee shop-work route, Archie?”“Jogging,” Kevin raises an eyebrow. “Oh, we came back for the reunion thing. I kinda thought you would have heard it from Cheryl first.” He says, somewhat confused.Archie feels a little taken-aback. Perhaps they were supposed to be an exciting surprise for the reunion? He would have thought she would want to tell everyone who she managed to get to come. Josie had definitely RSVP’d for them - he had watched her do it.Kevin nods. “Oh she totally told me, and everyone else – I never thought you were actually going to come though!”He nods, wondering what to say to this. “Well, you know. Ten years is a long time to be away.”“You’re telling me. I barely recognised you, with the tattoos and all. I would have never pictured you as the type – I mean, I’ve seen pictures of you and Josie on the internet, but it’s a different thing in the flesh –“ He stops himself, looking faintly pink. “What I mean is, it’s good to see you.”Archie smiles, for real this time. “Good to see you too.” He looks at the spilt coffees again. “I am so sorry about those. Can I buy you new ones?”Kevin smiles. “Sure, I mean, if you can’t get your famous rock-star high-school friends to buy you hot drinks then what is even the point?” He says, still looking like he was really not expecting the morning to turn out like this. “I’ll warn you, I am going to be late for work, so if you want to get out of carrying them back to the office with me, I’d make a break for it now.”Archie half-laughs. “I’m happy to help explain how I made you late. I’ve had my fair share of scary executives giving me shit.”Kevin’s eyes widen minutely at this. “Ok, but you don’t know who I work with yet.”“I’m sure it will be ok. Did Cheryl tell you Veronica’s coming on Saturday, too?”Kevin gasps. “No, she never told me she’d responded! Wow, that’s gonna be an intense night.”“You’re telling me.”They definitely got a few stares in the coffee shop. He was used to the feeling usually, but here he didn’t know if they were recognising him as a musician or as a kid that used to live in town.He holds the coffee tray as they walk towards the centre of town.“You’re married?” He says, trying not to sound like he’s too surprised.Kevin nods. “One year anniversary’s coming up.” He beams.“Wow, that’s awesome, man. Is he anyone I know?” Archie asks.Kevin shakes his head. “Yeesh, no-one we went to school with, if that’s what you’re asking. I met him just after college, and we ended up here again.”Archie grins. “Good on you.”“Thank-you.” He pauses. “How about you? Anyone special?”He half-laughs. “Fuck”Kevin chokes slightly on his drink, and he realises he’s forgotten he’s not talking to Josie again.“Are you ok?” He asks Kevin, with a hint of the sardonic.Kevin smirks, nodding. “Sorry, I just don’t think I ever heard you swear in the entire time I knew you. Don’t worry, I’ll get used to Dark & Gritty Archie, just give me a moment.”Archie laughs. “It just kinda happened, and now it’s habit.”“Uh-huh. Can’t go saying ‘aw jee golly’ as a rockstar, people would laugh.”“Ok, I never said that, c’mon.”Kevin turns to him. “We’re here. Gird your loins.” The reference seems vaguely familiar, but he doesn’t focus on it.They enter a modern-looking office, and Kevin walks towards a room at the back, handing a coffee to the confused-looking secretary on the way.“Keller, what the fuck happened? Did you decide on a quick hike instead of the coffees?” He recognises the voice coming from the room before he sees the wave of red hair and smells the floral perfume.“I ran into someone on the way, Cheryl.” Kevin replies long-sufferingly as she turns around, and he finds himself face-to-face with Cheryl Blossom. A little warning would have been appreciated, thanks Kevin.She looks more professional now, but her familiar red hair still curls onto one shoulder. She looks taken aback for maybe a millisecond or so, then settles into a casual, bored look.“Actually, I literally ran into him. Which is why the coffees are late, I wanted to replace them.” He adds. She might be much shorter than them, but apparently she still scares him a bit.“Looks like it. I’m guessing you’re wearing half the coffee shop.” She says crisply.He realises he’s still wearing his sweaty running singlet, which he hadn’t changed because it was dark-coloured and already damp with sweat. He’s regretting this now, really wishing he’d asked Kevin who he worked with.She’s raking her eyes over the tattoos on his arms, and those showing through the wide armholes of his singlet. Josie was right; he should throw this shirt out. It’s not even a particularly lustful gaze, more like she’s filing the information away, trying to figure out his secrets. She had a knack for that in school, and it’s no less unsettling here.“I’m going to go home and change soon anyway, so.” He replies awkwardly.She smirks. “I didn’t expect to see you before Saturday, much less in my own office. What do you think?” She says in a way that implies she’s showing off, but also doesn’t care about his approval. And yet, it doesn’t feel offensive – probably because after going to school with her for over a decade he expects it from her. It’s not her fault, really, given the people she was raised by.“It’s...great. Very modern.” He bluffs, trying to remember if he’d seen any signs indicating what it was they did here in their nicely furnished office.Kevin laughs. “It’s ok, I didn’t tell you. We’re event-planners. We own the business together.”He is genuinely surprised by this. Even after ten years in the industry, he finds it hard to think of what he does as ‘a grown up job’ – even though he is very much now a grown man – and this is actually one of them. They own a business. He imagined when he was younger, that he would either be working for his dad’s own business or maybe having one of his own. When did they all get to this age, already?“Wow, you own a business. That’s awesome!” He says, genuinely.Kevin laughs again. “Well it’s not exactly performing at Glastonbury, or being on Rolling Stone but we like it.”Cheryl beams. “Blossom & Keller has just taken off since we did that actress’ wedding. The buzz on us has lasted longer than her marriage, although that wouldn’t be hard.” She says brightly, and Kevin snorts.He wonders if they’re friends. He really wouldn’t have imagined it in school, but if anyone can understand unlikely adult friendships it’s him.“That’s awesome, really.” He says honestly. “I am covered in coffee stains, and I ran nearly a mile before I ran into Kevin, so I think I’ll go home and change. It’s great to see you though.”Cheryl looks at Kevin. “Kevin, go ask Saskia if she’s confirmed our 3pm with the Baxters.”He shoots her a look. “And one day, you’ll even learn to say things nicely.” He snipes, but leaves.Archie looks at Cheryl, wondering if she has something to say to him privately. She looks at him for a moment, and then says with a very Cheryl smile. “Well, goodbye then. See you on Saturday.”He frowns, confused, and then says, “Sure...see you then.”He turns to go and is about to walk out the door when he hears her say softly, “Did Josie come with you?”He turns to look at her. “Yes.” He says, and she suddenly looks vulnerable and small. He doesn’t say anything else, just leaves the office.Betty Cooper walks back from the Tran Bakery, holding a package of bear claws, and a plain bagel in another. Why you would choose that over the delicious sugary goodness of a pastry is beyond her, but she tries not to judge.It’s a work in progress.She comes into the Riverdale Chronicle and drops the brown paper bag with the bagel in it on Jughead’s desk.“Your sugarless bread donut, Grandpa.” She teases him.He shakes his head, smiling. “Remember that when I have all my actual teeth at ninety, Betty.”“Are you finished your article? I was thinking we could hang out tonight.” She asks.He frowns. “As much as I would love to spend tonight watching old movies with you, I can’t. I’ve got to do some more research.”She swats at him, frowning. He swats back, grinning. “Ask Kevin, or Polly, or something.”“Ugh, but Kevin’s probably going to be doing married things, and Polly’s working.” She whines. There is probably work she could get on with tonight, but it’s not like she’s not on top of her assignments.She decides to call Kevin on the off-chance he’s willing to be talking into doing something after work, but then sees that he’s ringing her. She picks up.“Hey, Kev – before you say anything, is there a chance I can talk you into hanging out with me tonight instead of your charming husband?” Betty says lightly.“It’s possible,” Kevin replies. “But what I’m calling you about is – I just thought you should know so you don’t get blindsided – Josie and Archie are back in town. I know because I literally was blindsided by him when I was going to work this morning.”“Oh.” She says faintly. “Cool. Good. Thanks for the heads up.”“Just looking out for you.”“Thanks – I uh, have to go. Text me about tonight.” She says and hangs up.Usually the return of your childhood best friend should be exciting. Not so much when you haven’t been in touch for years.She looks over where Jughead is working, cradling his phone between his shoulders and head as he looks up something on his computer, and she sighs.Hopefully that’s the only awkwardness she’ll have to deal with before Saturday. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- When I was a kid, the things I did were hidden under the grid, young and naive I never believed that love could be so well hid, with regret, I’m willing to bet they say the older you get, it gets harder to forgive and harder to forget – Passenger, The Wrong DirectionJughead Jones has his morning routine worked out. He’s still grateful and a little disbelieving, even now, that he even has something as mundane and ‘normal’ as an adult morning routine. There was a long period of time where the idea of having a job, his own place, education post-high school seemed impossible – because he had been without one or more of those things before, and it hadn’t been so easy to imagine ever having any again.The routine is simple: Monday-Friday, wake up at seven, shower, dress, eat breakfast, and stop off at the coffee shop before work.He rents an apartment about forty minutes walk from the office, or about a fifteen-minute drive in. It’s not a modern apartment, and it’s pretty small – but it’s his, and the rent isn’t bad. It’s proof that he has a stake in the world, a home, a testament to not being the fuck-up some of his teachers assumed he’d become.His car is old – a make from his senior year of high school, though he couldn’t honestly say what the model was called, because who is he, Betty? – but it still goes, and it gets him to work fine. Where else does he need to go that’s a further distance, in this town?He has the radio on as he drives to the coffee shop near work. Top 40 chart songs aren’t something he generally cares for – his phone being full of soft indie music and rock songs from decades before he was born – but he woke up, in the occasional mood he gets, feeling like he wanted to listen to a few dumb pop songs.It’s a sunny day, and he even sings along to one or two of the dumb pop songs. He wonders how he somehow knows the lyrics but is sure it’s some kind of osmosis – they’re always playing the most popular new songs in the supermarket, or in Pop’s, or wherever you end up waiting ten minutes and hearing them as background noise.Something comes on, unobtrusively, while he’s distracted making a turn. The beginning sounds are familiar but he’s not really paying attention.Days when, we’d fight we’d fight till I would give inHe hears the lyrics and begins to frown in recognition, but is too busy focusing on the road to do anything about it.Perfect disasters, we were swinging, swinging from the rafters.He reaches an intersection and rapidly hits the off button. He should have known better than to listen to the radio, really. That was another reason he avoided it.The stations were obsessed with the song recently, as he kept hearing it in all those places you have to wait and bear whatever music they decide to inflict on their customers. He sometimes felt like once again, the universe was playing some cosmically cruel joke on him. He certainly wasn’t the one keeping up with gossip blogs or stalking Instagrams, or whatever it was Kevin and Cheryl got their info from doing. He didn’t want to know, and yet it kept being waved in his face.He parked the car outside the coffee shop, feeling annoyed that his good mood had been somewhat ruined, and more annoyed that it had been so easy.It was ridiculous, anyway. It was such a long time ago – and yet Archie was brought back into his life everytime he couldn’t get that stupid song out of his head. At least it was only his voice, though.He was now looking forward a lot to the simple black coffee that he would buy inside, and getting to work so he could complain to Betty about stupid things, and she would laugh and tell him what she and Kevin got up to last night, and he would forget about this – but as he looked up to open the coffee shop door he almost collided with someone, and remembered the universe had it in specifically for him, laughing its anthropomorphic head off at its best cosmic joke yet.Murphy’s law: if something can go wrong, it will, floats across his mind for a moment.“Jughead?”It would have been impossible for him not to see any photos of his former best friend, especially when his job involved much time looking up information on the internet, so he wasn’t completely shocked by the person in front of him – but a half-glimpsed photo on a news website was different to seeing someone look so different right in front of you.His mental picture of Archie – all earnest smiles and leather varsity jackets – didn’t account for the colourful tattoos on his arms, disappearing into the armholes of his t-shirt, not a full sleeve on either side but still more than he would have expected a boy who fainted getting flu shots when they were ten to have. It didn’t account for the more adult set of his face, or the tired lines around his eyes, or the reddish stubble already regrown from a probably-recent shave.Archie Andrews, in the flesh, looks somewhere between a mixture of startled, afraid and annoyed to be running into him – even though it is pre-work hours, and it is the only actual cafe in town (and the only one to attempt to make coffee more complicated than what came out of a pot).Jughead realises he hasn’t said anything in response, and unsticks his throat. “Archie.” He says curtly, silently grateful his voice didn’t come out reedy or cracked.Archie swallows, holding an apparently forgotten coffee in his right hand. “It’s good to see you,” He manages, awkwardly.“Looks like it.” He drawls, hoping he sounds more detached and less like someone who was put in a tailspin just by the thought of Archie this very morning.“I – I didn’t recognise you without your hat, for a moment. I guess in my head you’re always wearing it.” Archie says unexpectedly, the sound of a smile that never quite reached his lips in his words.Something in that makes him feel off-balance, like he’s losing the winning ground here, to seem detached and uncaring. It annoys him greatly. “Uh, it’s more of a weekend beanie now.” He replies faintly. Clearly, straight coldness isn’t going to be possible so he aims for the old snarky detachment. “I almost didn’t recognise you either, with those tattoos and the facial hair. Very rockstar of you.”He sees Archie react to the deliberate barb, and feels darkly amused for a moment. “Yeah.” He says, and half-chuckles sardonically, without mirth. He doesn’t break eye contact though.“What are you doing here?” Jughead asks. It feels like the question he should have asked first, but his brain fog only just cleared.Archie looks almost surprised by the question, like he comes back to town every weekend. “Oh, uh, we’re here for the reunion. Cheryl managed to contact us.”We, he remembers again. He never disliked Josie, but he is reminded that she’s not even the first girl Archie replaced him with as best friend. That’s probably not fair though, Betty had technically known him longer, and they’d grown up side by side.“Right, that. She’s efficient.” He says, barely thinking about what he’s saying.Neither of them says anything.“Well, I have to get a coffee and get to work before I’m late, so, uh...” He starts awkwardly, just then aware that he still needs to get to work, and “reappearance of past ghosts” isn’t usually a favourable excuse for lateness.Archie nods rapidly. “Yeah, totally, bye then.” He says rotely, but not in an uncaring manner.He nods, and Archie turns and he walks toward the coffee shop door.“Jughead!” He hears behind him. Confused, he turns around.Archie has turned back and looks acutely uncomfortable, but determined, like he’s about to complete a necessary but dangerous activity. “Are you free tonight, after dinner? To catch up?” He asks defiantly.Jughead stares. Ol’ Doesn’t Know When To Let Uncomfortable Civilities Lie Andrews here has ruined his perfect getaway. And has now put the onus on him to make the decision. Again. Jughead hates him for it, because It would be so damn easy to not. It would be so fucking easy to tell him that no bygones can’t be fucking bygones when one of the fucking bygones moved across the country to get away.“Yeah, I think so.” He says instead.Archie smiles – small, a shadow of what it could be, but genuine. “8:30 at Pop’s ok?” He says. He probably doesn’t know any other places to eat in town that are still open, or existed ten years ago.“Ok. I really have to go now though,” He says, feeling like he’s lost the fight, again.Archie nods. “Sorry. I won’t hold you up any longer.” He says, and turns to go, leaving Jughead to wonder what just happened.Betty sits at her computer, barely focussing on her work.She shakes herself, and looks down at her notes and searches something but she’s not even really thinking about it.She’s thinking about yesterday.She had popped into the corner mart to grab some snacks – popcorn, red vines and the like – for watching movies with Kevin, and had just been browsing the aisles when she saw her walk in.She quickly leapt back into the canned goods aisle, hoping desperately Veronica Lodge: Movie Star didn’t have a burning need for soup or tinned peas.Luckily she walked into another aisle and seemed headed for the cold goods. She was wearing a cape again, because of course she couldn’t just walk into a market, or a diner, not looking like a mysterious, beautiful witch here to steal everyone’s hearts.She looked good. Of course she did, she probably had a whole team of people to get her ready these days.Betty realised she’d been lurking in the canned goods too long, as Veronica was on the move back her way now.She would have been spotted if Veronica hadn’t seen someone else, and stopped to say hi – then she ran for it as quietly as she could, without even buying anything.This was ridiculous. She was a grown woman, and she was going to focus on fact-checking for this article – a process that was personally more important, given the long, dark shadow her mother’s tenure here had cast on her reputation the moment she accepted a job here. She was not going to think about someone she used to know once, who probably hadn’t thought about her in years.She sighed and turned away from the screen, thinking she might make herself some coffee and wake her brain up, when she saw Jughead come in.He was heading straight for her, looking irritable.“Oh, Jug, did you get another ticket? I’ve told you not to park on that street, I know it’s close but-“ She begins.He shakes his head. Up close she can see he looks rattled, the way he used to look when things got bad with his father, in high school.“Did you know Archie was back for the reunion? Because I just ran into him, getting my coffee.” He asks in a rush, irritable.Oh, so just the important thing she’d meant to tell him yesterday, and had then been pushed from her mind by her own supermarket close encounter. Shit.“No?” She says, attempting surprise.He frowns, at her specifically this time. “You’re a terrible liar, Cooper.”She cringes. “I’m really sorry! Kevin only told me yesterday–““Yesterday? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! Trust me, I could have used the warning... How would you like it?” He says, incredulously mad.Her heart sinks, remembering yesterday. “Well, I almost ran into Veronica at the store yesterday. And ended up hiding in the canned goods aisle, and then having to run out without buying anything. So, karma’s already ahead on points for me.”She must look pretty embarrassed and miserable recounting this, as his irritation drops almost immediately on her reply. He reaches out a comforting arm to her shoulder, looking sympathetic.“I wanted to be mad at you for longer, but I guess you’ve suffered enough.” His tone is begrudging but he’s smiling.She smiles back. “Thanks, Juggie.” She sighs. “Saturday night looks like it’s gonna be a nightmare, huh?”He nods.She looks at him, realising she hasn’t asked yet. “So how did your run in with Archie go?”He looks at her, like he’d been wrapped up in his own thoughts. “Uh, weird. I don’t know. I’m apparently meeting up with him for a “catch-up” tonight, so that’s...happening.”She raises an eyebrow. “You agreed to this?”He nods, apparently surprised too. “Seems like it.”She watches him run a hand through his dark hair, and something in his expression reminds her of him at fifteen, sixteen – even skinnier, smaller, more anxious. He always gave way, when Archie and him had fought. How could he not? She only had a slight more capacity to stay mad herself. It was like yelling a Labrador for doing something bad to your shoes – it would only make you feel better for a little while, then you realised it wasn’t going to know better anyway.That time was different though, and it had taken both Jughead and her a long time to get over it, if they ever had.She has a flash of a trembling teenage boy in a soaked grey beanie, knocking at her window.“What are you doing out in the rain? Jesus, Jug!” She said, opening her window and helping him in.“My parents are away for the weekend, so don’t worry about my mom kicking you out.”He didn’t respond to anything, just stood there shivering.“What happened?” She asked, genuinely worried, wondering if something had happened with his Dad. Sometimes she didn’t know whether she’d rather have her mom or his dad. Sometimes she wished they could just leave them both behind.“He’s gone. He – he just – gone.” Jughead got out, teeth chattering, and swallowed.She began to ask who but she realises the answer before the word really left her mouth.She felt her throat constrict, utterly confused by but sure of the reality. “Without – saying anything?” She asked quietly.He tried to say something but his face crumpled, and she pulled him into a hug. She hoped he didn’t see the tears in her eyes too, this is about him right now. Her own hurt could wait.She hopes, above everything, that this isn’t going to go horribly wrong – but she’s not certain it isn’t headed that way for both of them.“Yes, mom. I know. I’ll be there. Ok, bye.” Josie says into her phone, and hangs up. She stares at the screen in mild irritation. Her mom is the only family member she’s in contact with anymore, and she does love her. The woman did a lot to help her get to where she is today, and for that she is grateful. Mostly.But sometimes – sometimes, she is reminded of why she is glad of the space she has. Still, knowing what other friends’ mothers are like, she is also reminded that she’s lucky her mom even loves her, and isn’t insane.“Josie! Look at you, you look so healthy! And you’re keeping in shape, that’s good, I guess that diet is working?” Her mom exclaims when she comes by the office. She smiles, and doesn’t react to the subtle dig – she knows her mom means well, even when she implies things like that.“You look great too, Mom!” She says, hugging her. Her mom looks pleased at the compliment, and Josie didn’t give it falsely – for a woman in her early fifties, she has the arms and tight skin of a woman twenty years younger at least.“Just let me get my purse, and we’ll go to lunch, baby.” Her mom says, beaming. “You can go ahead if you want.”She doubles back through her office door, and Josie waits in the corridor.Then she hears a familiar voice down the hall. “I was promised an audience with the mayor, so excuse you! I need her signature on some important permits!”Josie freezes, seeing Cheryl come round the corner. Cheryl’s gaze falls on her and she stops haranguing the aide, who quickly runs off.She doesn’t say anything for a moment, like she’s computing a response. Josie can almost see the wheels turning behind her bright eyes.“Josie,” She says, smiling, the one that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m so happy you could come. Saturday night is going to be a great night!”She’s about to say something, something much less pleasant, but her mom comes out with her purse.“Sorry baby, I had to talk to a staffer for a moment as I was leaving, we can go-“ She sees Cheryl and her eyes narrow minutely, a microexpression that Josie only recognises from having grown up with her, then she smiles widely.“Cheryl Blossom. Wow, you and my daughter must be happy to catch up! How long has it been, Josie?” Her mum says brightly, unaware of Josie’s stiff expression. It’s not her fault, she only ever knew Cheryl as either; that friend of hers with the strange parents, and later that poor friend of hers with the dead brother who was always harassing Sheriff Keller to do something about it.“Since the end of high school.” Josie replies politely, tight-lipped.Cheryl turns to Josie’s mom. “I’m here to see you, actually, Mayor McCoy –“Josie’s mom nods. “And I’m so sorry, Cheryl, but I’m on my way to lunch with Josie now. I’m sure you know how hard it is for me to see her what with her schedule, and my work.” She says smoothly, brushing her off in her experienced politician way.“But-“ Cheryl starts.“Come in tomorrow, around ten, I’ll see what I can do, thank-you.” Her mom says and they walk past her, and out of the building, leaving Cheryl in their wake.“Josie, we just don’t have the time. You’ve got your dance lesson, and then singing practice, then your lesson on Sunday.” Her mom said, looking through the dresses.“Mom, please – can I just go? It’s one sleepover, I never go to them.” Josie complained, even though her mom wasn’t looking at her. It’s not like she had many friends, certainly not ones that she hung out with much outside of school. She could blame it on all the extracurricular classes she took, but honestly it was kind of lonely to have lived here since she was ten, and three years later have reached eighth-grade without any best friends.“What do you think of this one, Jose?” Her mom asked, doing her usual politician-avoiding-the-answer trick – currently she was just working in the mayor’s office but Josie knew she was planning to run soon – and the way she always did that drove her crazy.“Mom, you’re not listening! People will stop inviting me to things if I don’t go, do you want that?” She protested.“Josie, can you answer me, I’m trying to help here. Also, I’m not sure you want to sleepover in Alice Cooper’s house. That woman gives me the heebies.” Her mom replied, sounding a bit exasperated.No, of course there’s a reason, it’s not just that you think friends will distract me from our goals, she thinks angrily. She wasn’t even close with Betty Cooper, but they were assigned desks next to each other in class, and they were friendly. Still, she’d been surprised to be invited to a birthday sleepover, but Betty had been so nice she couldn’t bear to say no immediately.“Mom, I’m literally just asking for this one night!” She said, louder this time.“Damnit Josie, why don’t you get that this doesn’t matter! I’m trying to help set up a good future for you, and you’re just being really – really ungrateful!” Her mom exploded, still holding a black dress on a hanger.She stared at her mom and her vision shook. “I’m going to go wait in the car.” She hissed, and walked as quickly as she could away.Not to mention, she was going to have this stupid Megan Trainor song in her head all day. Why hadn’t the world let her fade back into obscurity after that bass song? Why were girl-clothing stores required to play inane pop songs all day?In the car park she was looking for the place they had parked when she glimpsed two red-headed women coming out of a car. Josie wasn’t usually bullied because she didn’t take any attempts to without giving it back, but she also didn’t want to run into the richest, meanest girl in school while she was alone and about to cry. She ducked behind a car, but she could hear Cheryl’s mother’s voice.“...You always have to make this a production, don’t you? The Cheryl show is not something anyone wants to watch, young lady! You really are a selfish, selfish girl!”Josie froze, realising just how much more awkward this moment would be if they saw her.“Mom, please don’t –“ Cheryl begged, in a voice choked with sobs. It wasn’t the petulant whining of a spoiled child either, that Josie would have expected. She sounded devastated. She sounded scared.“I’m not going into the store with you looking like that, Cheryl. I’m going to go in, you stay here and join me when you’ve calmed down.” Mrs Blossom’s steely voice said, and Josie shuddered, suddenly grateful for her own mother.She heard Mrs Blossom storm off and Cheryl sobbing, and wondered if she could maybe just stay here for the next hour until it was certain wouldn’t have to let Cheryl know she was there.She attempted to move back but kicked a rock, and her heart jumped.“Is someone there?” Cheryl called. “I have mace, if you’re a rapist.”She didn’t move, and her heart raced.“I know you’re there!” She called again, “I’m really not in the mood!” She yelled and began to cry again.Josie’s heart broke for her at that moment, and she decided she may as well get up.“What in the hell were you doing?” Cheryl said irritably, though tears were still falling down her pale cheeks.Josie frowned. “I didn’t want to get in the middle of whatever that was, I was just trying to get back to my mom’s car, ok?”Cheryl scowled. “Well, now you can tell everyone at school about it. I’m sure they’ll love it.”Josie’s expression softened. “I’m not going to tell anyone. Are you ok, though?”Cheryl nodded, wiping her eyes with a tissue from her purse. She didn’t look ok. “Just mom stuff. She’s jealous of me, because I’m young and beautiful and she’s old and washed up.” Cheryl said, with a touch of her usual flippant tone.Josie laughed a little at this, wondering if she was joking or not. “Yeah, I get that. I love my mom, but she’s really strict about anything social, and she wants me to do all these lessons – which I like, but also I’d like to go to the big sleepovers sometime too?”Cheryl smiled, genuinely, at this. “Are you going to Betty’s party then?”“I don’t know if my mom will let me. I know that’s lame, but I don’t wanna disobey her.” Josie replied, feeling upset about it again. “I didn’t know you were friends?”Cheryl smiled wickedly. “I don’t think her mom likes me. Maybe she’s trying to prove a point. I didn’t know she had it in her, actually.”Josie nodded.“Please try and come, It’ll be nice to have a friend there.” Cheryl asked suddenly.“What about the other girls that are going? You’re friends with some of them, right?” Josie deflected.Cheryl made an unimpressed face. “Not real friends. They would tell everyone.”Josie wondered how a few minutes ago she feared this girl seeing her cry, and now all she felt was sad for her. Even though she didn’t deal with it the same way, she recognised what Cheryl was now. Takes one emotionally distant parent-having, emotional wall-creating kid to know another.“Ok. I’ll try.” She said kindly, although she didn’t believe she’d get to.Cheryl beamed. “Awesome!” She glanced the way her mother had gone, and then back to Josie. “I should probably...”Josie nodded. “Sure.”Cheryl turned to leave, and then turned back. “Thank-you, Josie.” She said, with a grateful little smile. Then she walked off towards the clothing store.“Josie!” Her mom called from behind her, and she whipped around. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t find you – I thought you were going to the car, and then you weren’t there, and I didn’t –“She didn’t even seem mad. Josie was overwhelmingly glad not to be fighting with her anymore, so she ran to hug her, which her mom returned warmly.“I just want the best for you, Jose.” She said, when they let go. “But if you’re not having any fun – I think maybe this thing would be good for you. I’m ok with you going.”Josie beamed.And then high school had started, and they each had their own friend groups, and being opposing types of ‘cool girls’ should have made them – in some ways, diametric opposites – hate each other. But they stayed friends, somehow. Until senior year, when so much had already changed in their lives, and again, everything changed.Archie reaches the painted door with the ornamental number four, and knocks.Josie opens the door, looking worried, but her face breaks into a smile when she sees him.They hug tightly.“Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever!” He half-jokes, because while they’ve texted they haven’t seen each other in person since he was dropped off at his old house, and it feels weird.“I know right?” She agrees. “I mean, we haven’t spent over twenty-four hours apart for a long time, so...”He doesn’t know why this is surprising to him, but it is a stark reminder of how insular they are at home. “Yeah, not since two years ago, I guess.” He says, not sure why he’s bringing it up. She definitely remembers how lonely the two preceding them had been.“Yeah,” She agrees, a little subdued. “So, this is my lovely room. All this could’ve been yours.” She jokes as she shows him in, waving vaguely at the old-fashioned decorations.“Oh no! I mean, there’s a new double bed for guests in my old room. So you’re really missing out on the luxury.” He jokes.She laughs. “Is it weird being in your old room? I can’t imagine my Mom hasn’t turned my room into a home gym or something by now. As she should.” She says, sitting down in one of the old-fashioned lounge chairs on the other side of the room. He drops into the other.“It is weird – but also not. It’s so familiar sometimes, I forget I can’t send Betty messages from my window because she doesn’t live next door anymore.” He laughs. “Also, because we’re adults.”Josie laughs. “You two were like a Taylor Swift song that went wrong.” She teases.“I was gonna protest that but I really can’t, oh my God.” He laughs. “Maybe it would have been easier on all of us if I’d been in love with her too.”He shouldn’t say things like this, because it’s pointless to speculate, but he sometimes can’t help wondering if he could have saved himself a lot of pain earlier if he could have just returned her fifteen-year-old crush on him, and maybe he –“Stop it, Archibald,” Josie orders him sternly. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s bullshit. No point in thinking like that.” She gives him a meaningful look.“I know. Sorry.” He says, honestly. They’ve had this conversation many times, and one of them has to be in charge of reminding the other that they can’t change the things that have happened to them.“Speaking of then, what have you been up to?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.He considers the last day or so, and decides to work up to it.“Well I ran into Kevin, literally, the other day.” He goes with this, because it’s easy and neither of them have any Complicated Emotions regarding him. “He spilt his coffees on me.” He laughs lightly, but sees her narrow her eyes minutely. She can read him too easy.“What happened? Were you jogging, or did you just decide on collision as a fun way to reintroduce yourself?” She asks carefully.He sighs. “Ah, shit...I kind of – I was having a bit of a freak out. I swear, it wasn’t intentional but I ended up near Charlotte Street...” He looks at her again, waiting for her reaction.Her eyes flash with anger for a second. They always do when they talk about it – at first it took him a while to realise it wasn’t him she was so angry with. Then her expression becomes softer.“Look, if this is too much, being here, we can leave tomorrow. Screw anything else.” She replies, with a fiery glint in her eye still.He shakes his head. He can read her too, and knows as much as she means this for him, she has another reason she hasn’t told him. “So, when did you see her?”She sighs. “We clearly do spend too much time with each other.” He grins at this, and waits for her to continue. “She came to ask my mom about something before we went out for lunch. Hasn’t changed. You know the first thing she said to me was, so glad you could come! like I’m someone that gave her an early RSVP or something, I swear to God...” She bursts out.He nods empathetically. “She asked me about you.” Josie’s expression darkens, and he hastily adds, “She works with Kevin, and he didn’t tell me till I was there, so I was totally surprised.”“What did she say?” Josie asks quickly.“She just wanted to know if you’d come with me, and I guess she really knows now.” He replies, putting his hands up.“She really does.” Josie backs off, looking disgruntled. “What about you?” She gives him a look.He knew she knew. “How did you even know I saw– ”She grins evilly. “Well, I knew you were hiding news. Process of elimination. How did it go?”How did it go? How had it felt to see someone he’d spent his nearly his entire childhood with, yet hadn’t seen or spoken to in ten years? How did it feel to realise he’d grown up too, and looked like an adult now, looked good if a little different – and yet Archie would have recognised his face anywhere, had thought he’d seen it in crowds several times over the years?“Oh, great.” He said, sarcastically. “It was a very comfortable and not-weird moment for both of us, what with me leaving that new coffee place exactly when he was about to go in.”She puts her hand on his. “Aw buddy. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought?”He shakes his head, appreciating her trying to protect him. “No, it was definitely weird...And I did something stupid.”Josie narrows her eyes again. “If only I didn’t hear that one so much. What did you do?”He cringes. “I invited him to Pop’s tonight to catch up.”“Wow, you’re just a sucker for punishment aren’t you?” She drawls, smiling.He chuckles, still feeling anxious. “I just panicked. I don’t even – What the fuck am I doing, Jose? He doesn’t wanna talk to me.”She squeezes his hand a little. “He did agree to it though. I guess you gotta ask if you wanna know. ”He remembers something and looks at her directly. “Hermione told me Veronica’s staying here, have you seen her?”Josie smiles, unexpectedly. “Yeah, actually. Apparently enough alcohol and you can mend a friendship after this long, who knew?”He smiles, surprised. “That’s great, Jose! Hopefully it means we can get on with each other while we do this ‘family dinner’ thing our parents are so set on.”Josie shakes her head. “It is still weird that you’re ‘family’. At least they don’t make you refer to each other as ‘sister’ and ‘brother’.”He shudders. “It’s not so bad. I like her mom – she makes Dad happy. But even they probably know that would be wrong.”Josie laughs suddenly. “Oh, and she told me she got six months notice!”“You are fucking kidding me! What do they think we do?” He says, laughing.He’s sitting around talking with Josie, when there’s a knock at the door.He looks at her and she shrugs. “Mrs Baker? Veronica?” She guesses, looking confused. “You get it.”He swats at her but gets up to answer the door, which opens to reveal the other former best friend he hasn’t spoken to in years.It’s all happening to him today. Joy.Betty is just as blonde, and just as a pretty as he remembers. She’s begun to take more after her mother, worringly, but there’s still an essential kindness to her features that is nowhere to be seen on her mother’s face. He can’t help but feel happy to see her, but he realises a few moments after he opens the door that she is not about to say the same.“Betty! How did you...how did you know I was here?” He asks, confused and apprehensive.“I asked your Dad. Hi, Josie.” She says matter-of-factly. Josie waves from her chair.“Oh...do you, uh, want to come in?” He asks, still wondering what exactly she’s doing here. She was looking for him, and it doesn’t seem to be so they can have a light catch-up.“Can I talk to you privately for a minute, Arch?” She asks, polite but serious.“Uh yeah, totally.” He says, and turns to grab his jacket, sharing a glance with Josie as he does. Her looks says, good luck. His says, i’m gonna need it.He follows her out, and into a sort of courtyard at the back. He hasn’t seen Veronica around yet, and is hoping she’s out at this particular moment.Betty turns to him. “I’m sorry if I came off as a bit harsh just then, but I didn’t even really expect you’d come, and then you’re here early and you’re making plans, and I’m worried-“Of course, that’s what she’s here about. He almost wishes she was here to yell at him for herself, at least that would be acknowledging their own past.“You’re here about Jug, then?”He interrupts the flow of words. “What are you worried about?”She gives him a look. It’s so familiar he feels like he’s just refused to go further into the woods behind their houses with her. “You know what, ok. I’m worried you’re gonna stir him up again, and then you’ll be gone by Monday, who knows when we’ll see you again.”That hurts, but he hides it. Something he never used to be able to do with her, but you can’t come into a meeting without a poker face when dealing with music executives. “So I should come to town, and deliberately ignore him? That won’t hurt him at all?” He replies, a little facetiously, but he means it.Her expression darkens. “I was here when you left, in case you’ve forgotten. You wanna talk hurt? He was devastated, Archie! Not sleeping, barely eating! And I’d do anything to not see him return to that place.”He wants to defend himself, to explain what happened, to tell his side but he can’t speak. If he’d thought coming back was awkward and hard before, it was nothing compared to this.“I – I don’t – I just – “ He tries but he can’t get a sentence out. It doesn’t feel like a full-blown panic attack, but it feels pretty bad.Suddenly, as he looks at her, Betty’s angry expression turns as her eyes begin to fill with tears. He’s not proud of it, but he’s made a few girls cry over the years. It never made him feel like a great person, but she evokes a whole other level of guilt, like he’s kicked a puppy. He’s suddenly fifteen again, and thinking things are OK and then they’re just suddenly not and he feels like the worst friend in the world.He braces his arms on his thighs, and doubles up, regulating his breathing,He straightens up, feeling calmer, but like he might still cry, too.“I’m – sorry.” He says simply. “I know it’s not enough, but I came here to see you guys, because I fucked it all up, and I’m just so fucking sorry – “ He swallows. Keep it together, idiot.It’s too late though, his eyes feel hot.“You just left! Didn’t we deserve a goodbye, at the very goddamn least? Didn’t I?” She berates him, tears running down her cheeks.He runs a hand through his hair. His throat feels constricted. “I should’ve said goodbye to you – I called, but you didn’t pick up, and I had to leave that night. I made a stupid decision, and I’ve wished ever since that I didn’t leave that way – it was complicated, I – couldn’t, I’m sorry – ” He is crying now, but he doesn’t care because she’s seen it before, and he’s sorry for every stupid way he hurt her now and before.“I told you before, I’m selfish – I’m stupid – I didn’t ever deserve to be your friend, Betty.“ He continues, berating himself now.Her expression clouds with anger, and she unexpectedly throws her arms him. “Don’t say that about yourself.” She says quietly.He buries his face in her shoulder. When they break apart, both their eyes are redder, but he feels a little lighter.“I never thought you were those things – not really, maybe at my angriest it passed my mind. I just missed my best friend.” She sniffles, smiling sadly at him.“I missed you too. I shouldn’t have left it so long to contact you the first time, but it was so easy to be busy then.”She nods slowly. “Maybe I should have tried to keep communication up too. I was the one who stopped first.”He shrugs. “Whoever stopped first, I guess it was both of us. I am really sorry I hurt you – I never meant to...either of you.”She looks at him seriously, but softer than earlier. “I can’t control what you do. I hope you and him have a good catch-up, just – be careful, ok?”He nods sombrely. “I’ll try my best.”She smiles at him. “Then maybe Saturday won’t be as much of a nightmare as I feared.” She says, half- jokingly.He half-smiles. “I think Veronica’s coming, as I’m sure you know.”Her smile sinks. “Oh, I know. This week is abundant with emotionally fraught reunions.”“You’re telling me.”When he gets back to Josie’s room, Josie raises her eyebrows at him. “You alright?”He nods. “I think so.”“So, family dinner tonight – you ready?”“Oh fuck, I totally forgot about that.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Chapter Six – Of The Night Every stumble and each misfire, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more – Good Grief, Bastille Sitting in the living room, with a beer in hand, Archie is struck by how different it all is. Of course it looks the same on the surface, but there are new pictures, there are flowers where there didn’t used to be – it’s not bad, it’s just different. Something like twenty years earlier, his mom had this old and probably antique lamp in the corner, with this big, dark green lampshade – it’s all he can specifically remember of her decorations in here, everytime he tries to remember anything else it’s like a blurred photograph. He used to think there was no way he could forget those little details, or what it had been like when his parents had been together; but all it is now is a distant sensation, a vague memory of car trips and family dinners together. It’s better like that, maybe, than remembering everything that was until it wasn’t. Now, he’s sitting here – having a beer with his dad, who is nodding along to the record he’d put on. The sound system had been a fiftieth birthday gift from him, and it makes him smile to see his dad enjoying it so much. When though had he gotten old enough to be sitting in this room, where he used to watch horror movies he claimed he was old enough to watch when he really wasn’t (and so then got nightmares from)- having a drink with his dad because he now really was old enough that it wasn’t a big deal? Another difference is his dad in a button-up shirt, when his eternal mental picture of him will always be wearing an old flannel shirt, but apparently tonight meant a slightly fancier standard of dress. “...Yeah, Hermione’s really excited about this one. She’s been testing the recipe out since she knew you guys were gonna be in town.” His dad is saying, a proud grin on his face. “Wow, I didn’t think she was so into cooking.” He replies honestly. It’s probably unfair but he sometimes still thinks of her as woman who never needed too, and so has been recently surprised by how good her food is – they usually have gone to restaurants in the past when they’ve met up because why not, when you’re touring in Italy or somewhere and you can afford to fly them out to meet you. “Yeah, she’s got a real knack for it. Not that I never do any myself, but I don’t mind saying she’s the one making the more interesting meals.” His dad says fondly. He laughs. “I’m looking forward to it.” His dad nods, smiling, then looks at him. “I really appreciate you doing this, you know?” “Yeah, of course. I wasn’t going to tell you I was busy, or something.” He replies, smiling but surprised by this; was it not certain that he’d come to one dinner? How much of a celebrity asshole did people think he was? (That question, he had learned, was never a good idea to try and find out) His dad nods in agreement. “I know, I just mean I know I don’t know exactly why – but things are difficult between you and Veronica, and it means a lot to us that you’ve agreed to make nice for tonight.” He says carefully, looking at Archie. He can’t quite overcome the impulse to scoff – a media trained one over years to scoff at any rumour of tension of any kind is hard to break – but he tries to, and it comes out as a half-scoff. “It’s not – we don’t need to ‘make nice’, Dad.” He says, feeling like that sounded uncomfortably teenager-ish. His dad gives him his patented squinty, sceptical look, the one that says “I-know-you-well-enough-to-know-you’re-not-telling-the-truth”, and it’s uncanny how much it makes him feel like he’s been caught sneaking back into the house late again. He tries again. “I know we don’t often do this, and maybe it’s... I can’t say that we’re close friends currently, but I don’t think either of us, like, hate the other. It’s complicated.” His dad looks a little sad about this. “It’s just a shame. She was a good friend to you – and you to her, bringing her into your friends when she didn’t have any. I’m sure it meant a lot to her.” He feels annoyed for some reason – parents have this way sometimes, not cruelly, but of taking your regrets, or fears, and spelling out exactly what you’re trying not to think about it, assuming that they’re being sympathetic. “Yeah, a lot has happened I wish was different. Can’t change the past.” He replies, regretting his words almost immediately. His dad doesn’t leap on them though, to his relief. “Maybe, but you can decide what happens now. The future’s not written yet.” He says, sagely. He looks at his dad, wanting to reply, when they hear a knock at the door. “Can you get it, Fred?” Hermione’s voice carries from the kitchen. His dad puts his drink down, and goes to get the door. Archie hears him say, kindly “Veronica, great to see you! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Then he hears her familiar voice laugh, genuinely, and say, “And you, Fred! I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to see you two sooner! Hope I’m not late? And I’m touched – that shirt looks great!” His dad laughs. “I knew it would. And I’m so sorry I couldn’t come to the party but you know how it is; Mom tells me it was major...” They sound so familiar with each other he wonders how much he’s missed while avoiding family functions together. She hadn’t exactly been their biggest fan originally – the word ‘Judas’ was thrown around, memorably, at his support of it (in hindsight, he could have been a little more sensitive, given her dad, but that wasn’t even top ten on his list of Idiot Teenage Boy Insensitivities) – but apparently they were quite friendly now. They walk into the living room together, and he can see some apprehension in his dad’s eyes under his smile. Veronica always looked like she’d totally skipped any awkward phase, from the first time he saw her – although her adult beauty wasn’t so surprising to him, when they’d seen each other a few times over the years when their careers intersected. She’d moved from Los Angeles a few years back, though. She was wearing another black, hooded cape, reminding him again of their first meeting. He guesses she hadn’t lost her flair for the dramatic, then. “Here she is!” His dad says jovially. She smiles politely at him, and he gets up to greet her. She makes it easier by stretching her arms out for a hug, which he gives. It’s slightly awkward, but she’s definitely a good enough actress to make it seem natural – like they haven’t seen each other in weeks, instead of years. His dad seems satisfied with it. He beams at them. “It’s so good to see you both here. I had almost given up hope, what with all the touring and filming being at different times.” Veronica laughs, bubbly. It sounds genuine, but she is still a great actress. They wouldn’t know, really, if it wasn’t. “I wouldn’t have missed it, Fred.” “Definitely,” He adds. “I can get you a drink, if you want, there’s wine, beer, water...” His dad says to Veronica. “I’d love a glass of your red, if you have it.” Veronica replies genially. His dad smiles, and goes off to fetch it. Then it’s just them, in his old living room. They stand in silence for an awkward moment. “How are-“ He says at the same time as she begins to say “It’s good-“ She laughs. “This is ridiculous.” He nods in vigorous agreement, already feeling a little less awkward.”I know. I mean, we know how to talk to each other, right?” He asks, half-smiling. “Exactly!” She agrees, then says in a lower voice. “I ran into your bestie at the B&B the other night, and it’s been pointed out to me that maybe I am not entirely innocent of creating the distance between us...” She says with a half-sheepish grin. He shakes his head. “We both let things get out of hand. Honestly, I – I didn’t think you’d talk to me, especially like this, if you decided to come.” She smiles at him, but her eyes are a little sad. “Life is too short to hold unnecessary grudges against friends, Archiekins.” She smirks on the last word, familiarly. He grins at the old nickname, and it feels like they are teenagers again for a moment. It was always a ridiculous nickname, and he would have been embarrassed to hear it from anyone else, but somehow whenever she had said it he felt the warmth of it. “Josie told me she saw you. I’m glad you guys are talking again. It’s...good, I think, for us to have those other friendships. Hard to keep up back home.” He says, quietly. She makes a face. “Tell me about it. There are so many people I talk to on a daily basis, who I see all the time, but I don’t even know if I could count on them if I was in an emergency? It’s all a fucking circus.” She shakes her head. “Exactly – we have these people around us who are happy to go out, have fun, but we can only really trust each other. It’s a bit – alienating, sometimes.” He replies. He forgot she had this quality – making you feel like you were already friends, even when you’d never met before. Making you feel comfortable after years of silence. She regards him, smiling. “You know, I would have never guessed that would be you and Josie in the future.” He raises an eyebrow. “Y’know, friends like you are…But I’m glad you have each other. I don’t even really have a best friend like that...I mean, I have Jack, who is...Jack.” “Yeah I wouldn’t have guessed either. But I’m glad, too.” He frowns, slightly. “I meant to ask, how are you? Last I heard, you were dating that guy who was in Steal with you? Is that him?” She smiles, but it’s a little strained. “Engaged, actually. Three months ago.” He raises his eyebrows, surprised. Engaged. “Wow, that’s amazing. So he’s a good guy?” He says, hoping it’s the right thing to say. Marriages, especially in their circles, are mostly ‘start-quick-end-quicker’ things. It feels like obvious bullshittery to say ‘Here’s to your long life together’. She looks at him funny. “Sure. I mean, enough-“ He gives her a slightly-doubtful look. Come to think of it, he had heard rumours about this guy. Jack Warner. Hot as hell, good actor, reputation for various short-lived relationships with female co-stars and models. Didn’t ever strike him as the type to marry, though. Not that he could talk, but at least he wasn’t proposing to anyone. Out of a long list of mistakes, he’d managed to avoid that one. She narrows her eyes slightly, as if she’s reading his mind. “Who of us can honestly say we’re fully ‘good’ though? Can you?” She continues, defensively. He shakes his head. “No,” He smiles, apologetically. “Honestly, as long as you’re happy, I’m happy. I didn’t mean to—“ He trails off, unsure of what to say next. She smiles, warm and familiar. “No, it’s ok. I – am. I’m happy. I think I’ll enjoy being married, you know.” He recognises that look, that phrase. It’s not a big deal comes to mind, but he doesn’t press the issue. “It’s nice to know you’re still looking out for me, though.” She continues. He can’t help but smile wider. “Of course. We’re family now. And I’d like it if we were friends, again.” “I would like that, too.” She replies, then narrows her eyes in confusion for a moment. “Your dad’s been gone a while with the drinks, huh?” He chuckles. Subtlety wasn’t the male Andrews’ strongsuit. “I think he wanted to give us a little time to catch up. That or there’s been a horrifying cooking accident and your mother is waiting to tell us.” She laughs. “That was funny! I always assumed that you were just too beautiful to have had to develop a sense of humour.” She says, but he can tell she’s teasing. “And yet, somehow you got there. It’s a miracle.” He replies, grinning. Josie watches the clock ticking on the wall of the take-out Korean chicken place. It says it’s 7:31, but it feels like it’s going slower than normal, like time is moving differently in this store. When did this town even catch up with the trends of even ten years ago? Who brought the diverse takeaway places and actual coffee-machine coffee places? Not that she is complaining. It just feels weird. Like she was somewhere so familiar and yet she didn’t recognise the place she was standing in at all. What had been there before? As she wondered about this, her gaze fixes on a woman who walks up to the counter to order. A woman with long, curly black hair, dark skin and glasses. Figures. Josie wonders for a split-second whether she should leave without her order. She doesn’t have much longer to consider it, as Mel turns around and sees her. She looks at her, almost disbelieving. “Josie? You are…the last person I expected to run into in here.” She asks wryly, like she’s not sure. “I had a need for take-out, and I found this…new place.” Josie replies, awkwardly. Mel smiles a wry smile. “I know, right? When did they decide they wanted a one of these here? Not that I’m complaining. I’m addicted to this one near my apartment.” “Yeah, me too, there’s one in L.A I’m always ordering in from.” Josie says, half-smiling. She’s not sure if Mel’s even happy to see her, really, so she’s not sure how much she can give out. “I didn’t recognise you in glasses.” Mel snickers. “Yeah, apparently long days staring at screens turn your reading glasses into your everyday glasses, who knew?” She says sardonically. Josie nods, keeping her eyes on her. They lapse into awkward silence. What else are you supposed to say? There are people here she doesn’t regret leaving, or at least she wasn’t the only one in the wrong. But Melody isn’t one of them. The fact they both know whose fault it was hangs over Josie, growing heavier every second of silence. Mel’s wearing a bomber jacket with a blue patch on the breast pocket. Josie decides she might as well ask about it. It’s better than silence. “You look really good, Mel. I like your jacket, it’s cool.” She ventures, with a small smile. Mel smiles, still looking suspicious, but also flattered. “Uh, yeah, thanks. They gave them to us at work. Team present, thing.” She says, looking a little proud. Josie realises now that the blue and white patch is the NASA logo, and her jaw drops. “Oh my god, yeah I heard you were doing something cool and scientific in Houston – but NASA, wow, that’s so fucking cool Mel!” She can’t help saying this in excitement, then wonders if she’s gone too far. Is she just making this uncomfortable, acting like they’re friends, like she’s hearing that Mel won the ninth-grade science fair again? Mel smiles, more this time, more happy than suspicious looking now for the first time since they started this conversation. “Thanks, Josie! I – I appreciate it. Really.” She says, adding in a dryer tone, “I mean, it’s not like winning Album of The Year Grammys, or going on World Tours or anything, but the work is pretty cool.” Josie grins. “I don’t know, you’ve got a legit government job. I know I worked hard to get to where I am, but sounds like you did too… I’m so proud. Is it ok for me to say that?” Mel nods slowly. “Sure, of course.” There’s a silence, but it’s less awkward. Josie wonders what she can even say. Mel doesn’t seem angry, but they’ve been having a conversation in a public takeout place. Mostly empty, still. She deserves an apology at the very least. “Mel, I’m-“ She begins, but Mel interrupts her. “Josie, I know what you’re about to say,” She says, not breaking eye contact. “I wanted to say this maybe when I saw you on Friday,” Josie’s heart misses a beat from a jolt of fear. This is it. Why did she come? This was a stupid idea. Damn Archie and his harebrained plans. “And I never imagined I’d be saying this to you in a Korean takeout place, but I guess this what’s happening.” Mel continues, looking serious. Josie feels like she might throw up. If you can keep from puking on the Queen of Pop, you can keep from puking on one of your oldest friends. Mel sighs. “I’m not – mad at you. For taking that contract on, for going to L.A.” Josie stops feeling anxious for a moment to be hit full-force by confusion. “What? I mean, I…abandoned you guys. You were pretty upset, if I remember. Rightly so.” She says, completely dumbfounded. Mel nods. “It’s also been like, a decade. I never wanted to do music, like, professionally like you did – it was what you’d always wanted.” “Yes, but leaving you like that - you were my friends, that was…shitty of me.” She protests. Mel smiles, unexpectedly. “Look, it happened. You can’t change it. And, yeah it wasn’t great exactly how it all went down – but I get it. If someone here had been going for my full-ride scholarship to MIT, maybe I would have had to do things I wasn’t proud of to get it. I had my ambitions, same as you. So – I forgive you, ok?” Josie can’t speak. There’s a lump rising in her throat, and she’s really hoping she’s not about to cry in this neon-lit chicken shop, but it might not be a controllable action. “If it would make you feel better, we can hug?” Mel says, smiling kindly. Josie nods, still not able to speak, and Mel hugs her. For the second time this week, Josie is actually glad she’s not home. She wouldn’t be able to have such a private and emotional conversation in say, the In-N-Out on Sepulveda, without people taking photos of her hugging some unknown woman. Not that she’d actually regularly been able to go into a fast food place for the past few years, but that was beside the point. When they stop hugging, Mel’s eyes look a little mistier but she’s still smiling. “So, I’m guessing you’re here for the reunion, then?” Mel asks. Josie sighs. “That was the general plan. We had this ridiculous idea that if we came early we could, maybe see our parents and ease ourselves into it, but I don’t know…” Mel smirks a little. “Well, silver lining, if you’d just rolled up on Saturday, this could never have happened. Everyone has to have an emotional moment in a takeout place at least once. I personally have had many an emotional moment in the Chinese takeout place near my work. They get out the tissue box when they see me come in now.” Josie giggles at this, feeling a little brighter now. “Busy workload?” Mel rolls her eyes. “You have no idea – well maybe you do when you’re organising a tour or whatever – but really, I shouldn’t even be taking this time off but Val wanted me to come –“ She cuts herself off, looking awkward. “It’s ok…I guess I’ll see her on Saturday, then.” Josie says quickly. Somehow she doesn’t think it will go so well twice, but she can hope. Mel nods. “Can I tell her you’re back?” “Sure…I mean, it’s not, y’know, a secret.” Josie replies, caught off guard by the question. “Order #87, up!” Josie hears her number called, having momentarily forgot what she was even doing here. “Ah damn, that’s me.” Josie says. “I would really like it if we could catch up more, though?” “I’m not doing anything, I just got into town tonight, if you wanna hang out?” Mel replies. Josie beams, surprised. “Sure. I’m staying at the B&B, I was just gonna go back there with this.” “Modern. I’m in!” Mel deadpans, then smirks. Mel and her walk up to the counter and grab the bag. “So, what’s the deal with Andrews? That was a professional partnership I really didn’t see coming, to be honest.” Josie laughs. “I know. He’s actually not as bad as you think, though…” * “We’re in this ninety-eight degree heat, and our jeep’s aircon is just not keeping up, and we’re all just dying to get back to the hotel but we can’t cause of the mud, and of course we’re alone on the road so we all had to get out and try and push the car out of the mud –“ Everyone is laughing, a little easier because of the wine they’ve been having with dinner. “Even Blake?” Hermione asks Veronica, incredulously. “She was leading the charge, telling us all when to push! But then we finally get out of the mud and we think, it’s gotta be fine from here, right?” “There isn’t more!” Archie adds, laughing in disbelief. Veronica grins. “Oh if only! So we get about less than a mile down the road, and one of our tires pops-“ “No!” Fred exclaims. Hermione laughs. “What did you do?” Archie asks, invested. Veronica shakes her head, laughing. “So we get out and we’re looking at it, just sweating so grossly, and it turns out no-one knows what to do, and we have no internet signal on our phones…” Everyone at the table is almost crying with laughter. Veronica was always good at being the life of the party, he remembers that well, and her stories have only gotten better with adulthood. “…So I say, ‘Leo, I’m glad you learnt to be a hunter for The Revenant, I’m thrilled you got that Oscar, but I can’t believe you’ve never had a method role that required you to change a tire!” Everyone laughs. “Did you end up just hating each other by the end of it? I’ve known people who would’ve lost their shit if they’d had to do that, oh my god.” Archie asks. Actors were not generally fun people to be around when things went wrong, in his personal experience. Veronica shakes her head, smirking. “I mean, tempers get a little frayed but it was a bonding experience.” “Yeah, I’m not sure…maybe six years ago? Josie and I got stranded in this little Eastern European town – I can’t even remember the name, but it was in, like, Hungary, and we got separated from our people – somehow they thought we on the bus, and so we’re stranded in a part of the world where we don’t speak the language and there aren’t exactly cabs for the few hundred people who live there.” Archie says, to the incredulous looks of everyone. “Did you call them and tell them they’d forgotten the main attraction?” Veronica asks, sounding almost offended on their behaviour. He laughs. “It was the first thing we did, but reception was terrible in that village. We couldn’t even connect to the internet – but somehow we get on to this bus that’s coming through, and we proceded to spend seven hours on a bus packed full of Australian, New Zealander and British backpackers, and the people that recognised us were all ‘that’s a bloody disaster, mate’-“ At this he attempts a terrible accent somewhere between the three, and Veronica cringes but she laughs along with the others. “So it was a bonding experience, then?” Hermione asks, grinning. He shakes his head. “I mean, maybe in that Josie and I both equally hated our team for making us get this bus to where they were. We knew our next stop was in Vienna, so we found them eventually.” Fred wipes his eyes, chuckling. “Well at least you weren’t alone. I meant to say you could’ve brought Josie over tonight too, if she wanted. We’d love to see her again.” Archie wonders for the first time what Josie’s doing tonight – she had said she was probably going to get some takeout and watch a movie, but he knows she wouldn’t want him to tell everyone that. “Yeah, she would have loved to come, but I think she’s catching up with her Mom tonight.” He says instead – it’s close enough to the truth, anyway. Fred nods. “Of course. She’s always welcome here though. I’m glad she’s there for you, if she wasn’t, I wonder what else you’d get up to, you’re so far away …” He trails off, still smiling, but seeming to realise he’s said something wrong. Hermione gives him a warning look. His smile feels like it’s fading. There is the reason they don’t see their parents more often – is it guilt? Shame? The knowledge that they’re aware of every past fuck-up and one might slip out over a meal with company? He knows everyone is waiting for him to say something, if only because the light mood around the table is being dragged into an awkward silence, but he doesn’t know how. Maybe he’s overreacting? Josie once told him he had a problem with that, and he’s been working on it. But it’s kind of humiliating, even unintentionally, the way it sounds like Josie is his minder or something. Is that really who they think he is? Some wild, likely to freak out, rockstar type? Or maybe he doesn’t know what to say, because he’s afraid his dad could be right. He’d had his share of bad times, times he was out of control, a lot when he wasn’t talking to Josie. It was one small comment, but it felt like, a reference to all of that, for everyone at the table. Look at my son, he’d probably crash his sports car again, if his friend wasn’t there to look after him. He goes to reply, but Veronica gets there first. “I mean, Fred, I think he helps her too. I think it’s awesome that you guys can look out for each other like that.” She says smoothly, smiling at him. Fred looks relieved too. “Of course, I didn’t mean – It’s a big city, I’m just glad you have at least one person you can trust there.” He tells Archie, a silent apology in his eyes. He’s not going to embarrass them both by saying it in front of everyone. Archie nods, maybe too quickly, but it’s not like anyone is going to point it out. “No, totally. It’s a tough industry, if you don’t have that.” He replies, hoping he sounds unaffected. “I’m sure Veronica knows what you mean,” Hermione adds, kindly, with a look to her daughter. “Oh sure. The sharks I’ve had to deal with, I could tell you…” Veronica leads in, with a brief reassuring look at him. He hadn’t really realised how much he’d missed her friendship until now. * He walks to the diner, after excusing himself from dinner. His dad offered him a lift, but it felt too much like it could have been a night when he was fourteen – getting dropped off by his dad to meet his best friend at the diner. There is already a chill in the air, and it’s only the start of November, but the cold always started early here. He is again struck by how much Pop’s hasn’t changed. He sometimes imagines it hasn’t changed at all since it was built in the mid-50s, but that’s probably not true. But the coloured neon is the same, and the vinyl booths inside look the same. He wonders if the old jukebox inside still exists, and if Pop still somehow keeps it updated. How old is Pop himself now? Is he still serving? He enters through the glass front door, wondering if this was really a good idea. But so far, there haven’t been any mobs of fans waiting for him at the corner store, so he’s hoping his luck holds. Before he can even take a look around, he hears someone say his name, and he almost jumps. Pop is still behind the counter, a little greyer, a few more wrinkles on his face, but currently beaming. “As I live and breathe! I haven’t seen you in an age, where you get to?” Pop says cheerily. He wonders how to respond. “Don’t you know who I am?” is a douchey response in any situation, but is it bad that he’s surprised Pop has no idea what he’s been up to for ten years? Then again, he is probably 65 at this point. He's just guessing, though, because he has no idea how long Pop's been working here. Pop chuckles, eyes crinkling. “I’m just pulling your leg, Archibald. Even old Pop’s heard of you and young Josie’s music. And I say, they used to eat here all the time! Of course, all of you kids did but people love to think a famous person sat where they were sitting, doing the same ordinary things, being a kid a long time ago.” Archie breaks into a grin. Pop can tend to go on, but he was always a friendly presence in the diner, always knowing those who had less and quietly allowing them to pay later. “Yeah, I just never thought any one would care enough about my past. Anyway, it’s great to see you but I’m catching up with someone…” He begins. Pop smiles, and nods over his shoulder. “Just like when you two skinny kids used to come in and convince me to give you free milkshakes.” He chuckles. “You betta get on then.” He smiles and looks around. For a moment he sees something in one of the booths so vividly he thinks it’s real. A skinny teenager, in a denim jacket and a grey beanie, typing away at a 2014-era MacBook. He blinks and sees in the booth behind it, no longer a boy but very real – Jughead Jones, without the beanie, folding his hands and looking around. As he catches Jughead’s eye there’s a moment of panic that he’s sure that they’re both experiencing – how to signal ‘hello, I’m here’ in a relaxed, cool manner and not notify the diner going public how awkward this is. Jughead nods, and it makes him smile. Small, but he can’t help being reminded of how much that wasn’t his style. The words “we’ll just do that bro thing where we nod like douches” come to mind, and then he feels less like smiling. Their fights were fixable then, even when they seemed so broken. He walks over and slides into the booth on the opposite side. On the walk here he had been wondering what the hell he was doing, part of his brain yelling at him to cut and run immediately or risk making things worse. But somehow, all that noise had quietened down when he got in. Now he can’t think of what to say first. “So, uh, thanks for coming. I wasn’t – sure you were going to.” He says, mostly because it’s the first thing on his mind he can say to break the awkward silence. “You know me, I keep my word.” Jughead replies civilly. He pauses, seemingly struggling over whether to say the next thing. “I…I wasn’t sure if you’d actually turn up. So you’re already ahead.” Archie nods. “Given that I asked you, that would’ve been, uh, pretty shitty.” Jughead smiles wryly but doesn’t say anything. What do people even talk about in these situations? He grabs at the first thing he can think of. “So, what are you up to? Are you still writing?” He says, hoping he sounds more casual than he feels. Jughead seems surprised, almost. “Yeah, I’m at the Chronicle with Betty. Apparently investigative journalism is ‘my thing’” He says this with such evident air quotes, and a familiar ironic smile. He smiles, genuinely. “Aw man, that’s awesome. You guys were really good at that sort of thing. It’s cool that you get to work together.” Jughead nods, still looking guarded. “Yeah, it is. Although it’s also like 50% writing about the local fair, or what the scouts are up to this week.” “I’m sure you’d find a way to make it interesting.” He replies, honestly and Jughead half-smiles. He wonders whether to say the next thing, and then decides to go for it. “Y’know, I read your book. I really liked it.” Jughead makes a face. “It wasn’t exactly the sensation I had hoped. Fair enough too, I mean even with editing, my teenage writing style was, uh, pretty melodramatic.” Archie shakes his head. “No, man. I mean, maybe, but it was very, you.” Jughead laughs, a sardonic edge to it and looks out of the window briefly. Then he looks back. “Where did you even find a copy? It wasn’t exactly something you could pick up in a bookstore while passing through Prague, or London.” He asks, with a sceptical look. Archie hopes he’s not blushing. “Ok this is dumb, I guess – we were on the road in some southern state, and we were in this town where they didn’t even have a thing for tourists to come through and look at like ‘biggest elastic band ball’ , but we needed to stop for gas. So I’m walking through the town looking for something to do, and I go into this bookstore and I’m looking around. And you know me, I’ve never been a big reader like you, so I’m not even sure what I’m doing in here.” Jughead smirks, but not cruelly. “So I’m just looking around, and the owner comes up to me. She’s this old, kind looking lady, and she goes “Can I help you find somethin’, darlin’?” and I just ask if she can recommend anything to me. She says to me, ‘I don’t know what you like usually, but I’m reading this book right now and I’m just so engrossed in it, I can show you a copy if you’d like?”, and I say, why not. And she comes out with a copy of your book, and I swear it was such a weird moment. I felt like, I had to buy it? I don’t know, I know you don’t believe in fate, and I’m not religious, but it was something.” He finishes the story, not even having meant it to go so long. Jughead is looking him strangely, almost disbelieving. "That is...truly weird. I mean, you in bookstore? I just can't see it." He says, breaking into a familiar smirk. Archie grins. For a moment, it really does feel like they're fourteen and killing time at the diner, like always. "Are you writing anything else?" He asks. "Or are you totally a journalist now?" "The book opened a few doors for me to freelance with some websites, while I'm at the paper. I have a fairly regular gig reviewing movies for a pretty great online film magazine." Jughead replies, with a smile. Archie's smile widens. "That's so great, Jug! I always pictured you doing something like that." Jughead shrugs. "It's not a big deal, I mean especially to you..." "Don't say that. It is. To me, anyway." He cuts Jughead off sincerely. Jughead meets his eye and smiles in a funny way, and nods. "So, uh, how is Jellybean - uh, JB? How old is she now?" He continues. He hadn't seen her since she was a kid, when she'd moved away with her mother, though he knew she had been in regular contact with Jughead. At least she had been ten years ago. Jughead almost looks surprised that he asked. He smiles, a warmth he reserves for talking about the people closest to him. "She's, 23, now and she's a total genius. She's doing her postgraduate psych degree now at NYU, and she was valedictorian in her undergraduate class. She's just zooming past us all," He says fondly, "Except you, I guess." He adds wryly. "Also, she works as a tattoo artist, because she also has to be creatively brilliant, too." He continues without a shred of jealousy in his voice. He's always been proud of her. Sometimes, in the past, Archie felt jealous of everyone and their siblings. He tried to choose a family - but as his other former best friend knew, that way you can't choose who is and isn't more than a sibling to you. "Wow, I can't believe she's so grown up! Good on her!" He says, beaming. From what he remembered she had been a sweet kid, smarter than the average, a little too young to play with them mostly. "Does that make you feel old or what?" Jughead sighs, still smiling. "I wanna say no, but...yeah, it does." Archie laughs and runs a hand through his hair. "God, I would never have pictured this." Jughead nods slowly. "No, me neither." There is a moment of silence. "And your mom and dad?" Archie continues, soberly. Jughead looks away for a moment then back. "Dad finally agreed to go to AA. He's working, too, which is good. He's been sober 6 years." He says quietly. Archie gives him an empathetic smile, and suddenly, privately wonders if he's becoming the rich-and-famous mirror to FP. Unnervingly, he realizes he understands a lot more about him now. "I'm glad." He says quietly. Jughead catches his eye, quietly appreciative. "Mom's still in Buffalo. She has a business there, which is good. Still dating idiots, but JB and like this latest one – he’s at least nice to her even if he is pretty dumb." Archie nods. "I guess, if he makes her happy?" He add awkwardly, not sure of what else to say. Jughead meets his eye and sighs. "Yeah, I just want her to be happy. Easier said than done, though." "Tell me about it." Archie replies, and regrets it. Something about seeing his childhood friends again has him being way too honest. Jughead picks up on it. "I would have thought it was much easier for you, now you have everything you wanted." He drawls, looking at Archie. Archie bristles. "Oh shit, fame and money actually do stop you from ever feeling like shit and having problems Jug, you're right!" Jughead's eyes have gone colder. "Yeah, I'm sure it pays your rent though. When was the last time you worried about how much you could spend on groceries for the week?" Now it feels like when they were fifteen, finding each others rough edges too much, not being able to say what they meant, not instantly understanding each other like they used to. Archie sighs. "That was flippant, sorry. You're right, of course. As Josie used to say, I need to check my privilege." Jughead half-smiles, like he can just see it. "No, I'm sorry. That was a shitty thing to imply." Jughead relents. "You never used to apologize this quick, did L.A make you more sensitive?" He half jokes.Archie smiles ruefully. "I would have stormed off, or you would've, and we would have waited days to talk again. Not really a luxury we have now. I'm not here to fight with people." Jughead looks at him, and Archie wonders if he will ask the question hanging over them now. He doesn't. "But you are happy, right?" Archie looks at him, and considers the question and lands on half-truth. "I like what I'm doing. I finally feel like we're at a level where we can just make the music we want to and people aren't making too many demands on us...So that's good." Jughead looks like he's considering the answer. He could always get at the truth, figure out if he was lying, looking at him. This is enough of an honest answer it can't possibly set him off. "So you like living in L.A? Do you and Josie live together?" He continues, still keeping eye contact. Archie smiles, runs a hand through his hair again. "We used to, but we rent separately now. Nice to have your own space, sometimes. L.A is...something else. Sometimes I love it, sometimes I think it's like, the hellmouth where all the evil is." He chuckles. Jughead gives a surprised laugh. "Look at you, referencing things. Here I thought you didn't appreciate the seven season Buffy education I gave you." Archie grins. "I liked it! I just didn't always keep up with the plot. I guess some things stuck." "Yeah, sometimes I think this the is place with the hellmouth." Jughead says darkly. "Maybe you're right." Archie says, only half-joking. "Do you see your mom much?" Jughead asks carefully. Archie is taken aback, even though it's pretty standard a question for a catch up. "Not much, I mean we talk maybe once a year? I'm usually traveling, she's in Chicago. She's busy with her family." The last few words come out more bitterly than intended and he looks away for a moment. When he looks back, Jughead is looking at him in that quiet, empathetic way of his and he knows that he gets it. "It's not a big deal." It's a familiar thought, but he can't sell it to Jughead, who had always known when something wasn't really ok with him. He looks genuinely sad, somehow without being pitying. "It's ok if it is, Arch." He says simply. Archie goes to say something else, but says instead, "It could be worse. Josie doesn't even talk to her Dad...And I had a choice. I could have gone with her to Chicago, maybe...I guess that's another thing that I messed up." He half-laughs weakly. Jughead frowns. "I can't believe I'm the one saying this, but that's bullshit." Archie looks at him, confused. "That one isn't on you, Arch. It sucked that my mom moved away with my sister, but I get that she didn't feel like they - we weren't safe around my dad then. Your Dad is great, and you were thirteen, your whole life was here. Like you were going to choose to leave? It's ridiculous." He says, almost righteously angry. "I realise this might not be for me to say, now, but I just - you're still blaming yourself for that, when it's actually the one thing you shouldn't." Archie doesn't know what to say. He knows he can feel a lump in his throat, and he looks out the window into the dark parking lot. He can't think too much about it, it will only mess him up. She hadn't always been so distant. She'd been there once, she had been the kind of mother who drove to the supermarket with him in the passenger seat, eight years old, playing Come On Eileen loudly and teaching him the words. Then she had been the kind of mother to move to a city hours away from here, and the kind of mother whose calls got fewer and far between the older he got and the more she became entrenched in her life in the city. He swallows and looks back. "Thanks, man." He says, quietly. Jughead nods, a small movement, and looks back at him with such care Archie almost wants to look away. But he doesn't. There is silence, but it's less uncomfortable. Just more emotionally charged. Maybe to break this up, seemingly casting around for light topics to talk about, he says in a studiedly ironic voice, "I can't see them now, but when I saw you today I noticed your tattoos - tell me how a kid who hated even the flu-shot needle has so many?" Archie laughs in mock indignance, a little more performatively than he means to. "That was one time!" Jughead smirks. "It was like three times! I don't understand, I have to know how. Unless they're somehow all temporary?" He teases. Archie winces. "Well, y'know you make one drunk mistake at nineteen, decide it's pretty cool, and the rest just sort of follow..." If Jughead is judging this, he doesn't show it. He would have reason to, but it felt stupid to lie about it to him. He'd know anyway. Instead he asks, looking at Archie quizzically, "Do you regret any of them? I know my Dad regrets some of his." Archie looks down at his arms, remembers he's wearing a long-sleeve shirt, and rolls his sleeves up. He finds one of the most faded ones, and holds his arm out to show to show Jughead. Jughead regards it with a mixture of fascination and disbelief in his expression. "That little guitar is my oldest one. Josie convinced me to do it, or rather we both got one together - the quality is terrible, I'm pretty sure the artist was drunk as well - " Jughead snickers. " - but I never wanted to get it removed. I don't know, I guess I'd rather have all of the memories from these. Even if some of them are dumb." "Did you guys join a cult in L.A? You seem more enlightened." Jughead drawls, with a laugh in his voice. Archie laughs and looks up from his arm, seeing Jughead grin in front of him. They seem to realize at the same moment that they're the closest they've physically been in years, and both jerk back almost automatically. Unwilling to ruin the light mood, Archie tries to pretend it was a casual movement and is pleased to see Jughead doing the same. Maybe they can keep this going, and they can just not mention what happened, ever. That's doable. Certainly. * They're leaving the diner, when Jughead turns to him. "How are you getting home? Did you drive?" He shakes his head. "I walked. Thought I would just walk back." "I can give you a lift, if you want. Unless you have a certain number of steps you have to reach, or something?" He jokes. Archie laughs. "Nothing like that, so sure. Although I am missing my workout already, how does this town still not have a gym?" Jughead rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, but he smiles. "This way." They get to where a compact four door car, at least ten years old if not more is parked. “It's a piece-of-shit car, but it goes where I need it to." Jughead says flatly. Archie feels uncomfortable - from experience he knows Jughead won't take any "it's not as bad as you think" bullshit but he doesn't know how to reply. "Yeah, that's the most important thing." He replies. It's weak, but only makes him sound dumb. He's OK with that. Jughead chuckles. "I suppose it does that." As they pull out of the lot, Jughead asks, "Where am I dropping you? The B&B? Did they give you the Cat Room? I mean that's their fanciest suite, and you're probably the most famous person they've ever had there." Archie chuckles. "No, sadly. I'm staying with my Dad." Jughead looks surprised, keeping his eyes on the road. "Missed your bitchin' teenage-boy bedroom?" He says sardonically. Archie grins. "As I remember you thought the tv-playstation set up in there was pretty bitchin'" Jughead chuckles, "Touché." "No, I just wanted to be somewhere familiar. And I hadn't actually seen my Dad in like nine months. It's been nice to hang out with him." Archie continues. "I often see your Dad around town. He and Hermione have me over for dinner sometimes. I think they think I'm not eating enough." Jughead says, smirking. Archie chuckles. "I mean, you're still pretty skinny. I can understand the concern." He teases. Jughead snorts. "It's like I don't even lift, bro. Also, maybe I just look small because you're so big now? I'm worried some of those muscles are close to gaining sentience." Archie laughs."It's actually illegal in LA to not go to the gym. The city will send you an infringement notice." Jughead laughs. They lapse into silence for a moment, and Archie watches the darkened streets go by. Once again, out of nowhere he sees the sign for Charlotte Street, lamps illuminating the street. He turns away from the window instinctively, and Jughead seems to notice, but says nothing. He knows though, where they are. He was the first to know. Of course he was. “You can put some music on if you want. If I have anything cool enough for you now.” Jughead says warmly, trying to joke. Knowing already that he’s uncomfortable. “I might just put on the radio, if that’s not too horrifying for you.” He replies, attempting to make a joke. Jughead nods. “By all means.” Some soft indie song fills the quiet of the car, in its final choruses. “I like these guys – they opened for us on one leg of our tour a year or two ago.” Archie says. “It’s like six degrees of Kevin Bacon with you now.” Jughead says, without any real malice. Archie sees he’s smiling as he looks at the road. They’re not paying attention to the song that it fades into, until Archie recognises the very familiar opening. Of course. Of course, this is the one that is playing now. Jughead seems to recognise it too, and seems to be attempting not to react. Years of growing up together though, mean Archie can tell in the stiffening of his posture, the very slight narrowing of his gaze, keeping his eyes fixed squarely ahead on the road. Days when, we’d fight we’d fight till I would give in – perfect disasters, we were reaching, reaching for the rafters. And most of the days we were searching for ways to get up and get out of the town we were raised yeah because we were done. Memories of every note he played with Josie, working it out, every word written down on paper that became part of the song, every subsequent performance of it rush though his mind. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t have a light comment for it. The song fills the silence, and the car is too small for any real space between them anyway, and it reaches the chorus. And we said crazy things like, I refuse to look back thinking days were better just because they’re younger days The worst thing is, he loves the song. It’s maybe his favourite off the last album, and it was well-received by critics, and the public, too. But it’s the worst possible thing that could have come on, right when they were having a good time. What it evokes for him is too much, right now. The chorus thumps on regardless. Back when we were kids, swore we would never die. You and me were kids, swear that we’ll never die. Jughead makes a strange sound, almost like choking. Archie glances at him, but he hasn’t changed his rigid gaze. It’s too dark to make anything more of his expression. Just as Archie’s wondering if it would be worse to shut it off now, and admit how uncomfortable they are, or whether those ‘mindfulness’ finger-rubbing exercises will stave off the panic attack now building every second no one says anything – Jughead abruptly says something. “Y’know, I hear this all the time, but I don’t think I’ve ever listened to it.” He says, too quickly, too casual. Archie’s willing not to notice, he’s so glad that Jughead is talking. “Uh – do you like it?” He replies, a jumble of words tripping over his tongue. Jughead nods, slowly, not looking away. “It’s really well written.” “Thanks. I – uh- I’m proud of it.” Archie says faintly. Jughead says nothing, then, “How – how do you guys divide up who sings where in your songs? Because you’re more in this one and she comes in on the chorus, was she ok with that? From what I remember she wasn’t a fan of backup.” Archie isn’t expecting this question, and launches into speech without thinking. “Uh, every song is – different, so it depends on what parts suit each other, and what blends well, and uh, sometimes it’s based on who wrote the song more, and Josie knew I was more attached to this one than her so she was happy for me to take the reins on the verses–“ He babbles, and then abruptly shuts up. Fucking hell, why don’t you just say everything you’re thinking, you idiot. “Why are you attached to it?” Jughead asks carefully. Archie doesn’t reply immediately, wondering what he can possibly say. The relatively quieter final bridge of the song intercedes between them. Feel the years start burning, City lights they're turning. Something 'bout this feels the same The panic seems to be there whether he ends up explaining it or not. Fuck it, he’s been this honest anyway, might as well say this too. His throat feels dry. “You know, I wrote it about you… About us. Growing up here.” He says, trying to sound casual but feeling only the knot of panic and nerves in his stomach. Jughead takes his eyes off the road for the first time, for a second, to look at Archie. He looks – his eyes are mixture of confusion, irritation, disbelief. Then he looks back to the road. “Nostalgia?” He drawls, and Archie can tell how affected it is. “I guess.” Archie replies, trying to find what to say next. Jughead chuckles, but there’s a weary edge to it. He sounds too similar to his Dad when he does that, Archie doesn’t like it. “It’s sweet,” He says, and Archie’s heart misses a beat. “Sometimes I get nostalgic too for when you, me and Betty used to hang out when were kids, riding our bikes, watching movies together.” Archie’s stomach drops, and he stops trying to think of what to say. It doesn’t matter. He swallows. “Yeah, I guess, I was just feeling like, old and nostalgic for how easy it was for all of us. Back then. You, me and Betty.” He lies. If Jughead notices, he doesn’t say anything about it. “It’s pretty moving. You did a good job.” Jughead says, with a vague edge of irony. Or is he just projecting that? Archie doesn’t know. He shouldn’t ask the next thing, but he’s already feeling crap, so why not? “It’s one of my favourites on the album. I guess you haven’t heard it?” “No. But I’m not exactly in the cool-album loop anymore. It takes me forever to get to anything.” Archie doesn’t know why Jughead’s bothering to lie, but it’s cold comfort. Finally, they reach the old yellow house. They sit in silence for a minute. Archie’s about to say something like, “Guess I’ll see you Saturday,” and accept that maybe, there’s too much broken between them, when Jughead turns his head. Now he’s the one who looks like he’s struggling with what to say. “Look…I had a good time hanging out tonight. Mostly. Do you… wanna get lunch sometime this week?” He says carefully, looking almost sceptical himself. Archie is taken aback. “Uh – sure. Tomorrow?” “Ok.” Jughead says resolutely. “Drop by the Chronicle around noon?” Archie nods. “I’ll be there.” He says, surprised that he’s even making these plans. As Jughead drives off, he stands in front of the house, wondering how to feel. And wondering whether he can get a drink, because until five minutes ago he’d been feeling like he’d just learned the world was about to end. * Mel is getting a soda from the ancient vending machine down the hall, and Josie is only half-watching the ridiculous rom-com they’d picked out on the TV, when the phone rings. At first, she thinks that her phone is ringing. She’s a little tipsy, and she searches for it madly for a second before she realises it’s coming from the room phone. She picks up the receiver, wondering if it’s front desk. Hoping it’s not some kind of creeper. “Hello?” She says, suddenly hoping Mel comes back soon. “Josie?” A familiar girlish voice asks, softly. Unbidden, she has a flash of giggling, long hair, a small manicured hand in hers, a floral scent. She shakes her head. “Cheryl? How did you even get this number?” She asks irritably, although she’s sure she knows the answer. “Please, Mrs Baker’s a pushover.” Cheryl replies flippantly. “What do you want?” She asks, feeling tired suddenly. There is a pause on the other end of the line. “I want - I want to talk to you. I want to invite you over for afternoon tea, at my place, tomorrow.” Josie wants to tell her to shove it, but she ends up saying, “Do you still live in that creepy-ass mansion? Cause there’s no way in hell I’m going there.” “No. I’m on Amherst Lane now, number 8/96. Say you’ll come? I just…I just want to talk. Properly.” She sounds as unconfident and almost pleading as she’s ever heard her. This was a rare thing to hear, but Josie didn’t feel lucky. She just felt reminded: of being eighteen and devastated. She goes to say no, but somehow, ends up forming the sentence, “What time?” instead. “Four-thirty?” Cheryl says, cheering up. “I guess I’ll see you then.” Josie says, annoyed at her stupid, traitorous mouth that keeps disobeying her brain’s direct orders to not make these plans. “Brilliant.” Cheryl says, much more happily. “You won’t regret this, Josie.” Josie snickers. “Yeah, I wouldn’t bet on it. Bye, Cheryl.” She says, and hangs up. She looks around for her phone, and types out a message to Archie as Mel gets back in. “What did I miss?” She says, sardonically. Josie lies back against the headboard and raises her eyebrows. “Nothing much. I’ve just made afternoon tea plans tomorrow with my crazy ginger ex.” Mel’s jaw drops. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- We're one, But we're not the same, Well we hurt each other, and we’re doing it again – One, Johnny Cash Summer had well and truly arrived, and even though school had a few more weeks left it felt different. This time it wasn’t just two months and back to the same old thing, and the excitement was thick with the senior class. The air felt full of possibilities, somehow now not strangled by the dark cloud that had lain over them all two years ago. People were feeling like they could imagine their futures as bright again, full of promise, unstoppable. Archie was taking full advantage of the long weekend to go on a long planned, then postponed, and now reinstated road trip with Jughead – his best friend wasn’t big on camping, but they were both looking forward to the solitude and wide-open natural spaces. As he packed the truck up with camping gear, his Dad helps, looking at him with pride and a little parental worry. “And you’ll call me when you have signal so I know you got there ok?” Archie smiled. “Yes, Dad. We’ll be fine.” His dad furrowed his brow. “Well, you know what can happen. Has happened. Just – look after each other. Don’t take any unnecessary risks.” He nodded, understanding. Convincing his dad to let them take a road trip alone was somehow easier when they had been fifteen, but a kid only a year or two older than them hadn’t been murdered then. “We won’t. It’s three days, and we’ll be back by Monday night. At the latest.” He said, trying to sound reassuring. Jughead came out from the house, carrying something he throws in the back of the truck. “Don’t worry, Fred. I know you kind of have to, but we’re tougher than we look. Anyone or anything looking for trouble would take one look at me, and back down, obviously.” Jughead said, with a smirk. Fred chuckled. “Ok, ok. I’ll let you get on – remember to let me know when you get there, please? And Jug, look out for him, ok?” Archie scoffed indignantly. “I don’t need-“ Both Jughead and his Dad silenced him with a very sceptical look. “Point taken.” Archie felt like he’d been looking forward to this for a long time – Jughead and he had discussed whether they should invite more people, but ended up thinking that they weren’t looking for a party. And they hadn’t been planning to the first time, so why should they change that now? Once they got out on the road, Jughead found the aux cable and connected it to his phone. “Now as per our coin toss, I get to start our road trip playlist with something I like, which means that yes I’m going to continue to educate you on good music.” Jughead said, grinning as he scrolled through the playlist. It was a fairly democratic one, merging songs from both their libraries to create something they’d both like, even as different as their tastes ran. Archie mock-groaned. “What are you thinking?” Jughead laughed evilly. “Oh yeah, prime indie-kid pretentiousness. Perfect.” He said, in a self-aware way. The song was older-sounding. Knowing his best friend, it was probably from when their parents were their age. It was warm sounding, in a way he couldn’t explain. It sounded nostalgic, even though he’d never heard it. there is a wait so long, so long, you’ll never wait so long. “I like it.” He said, and Jughead smiled, bobbing his head a bit to the music. “Who is it?” here comes your man, here comes your man “Pixies.” “Awesome. Just you wait till the Weeknd comes on, though, it’s gonna go off.” He said, half-teasing. Jughead groaned; Archie laughed, and they sped toward their destination, feeling the worries they carried around all the time peeling away the further they drove. Suddenly he wasn’t in the car anymore, but at the lake with Jughead. They were laughing and Jughead looked at him and smiled, but it wasn’t right on him somehow. A flock of birds screeched overhead. “Can you keep this a secret?” He said, and held a finger to his lips. “What?” He wanted to ask but he couldn’t seem to get the words out. A bird screeched loudly, and he looked for it, and when he looked back Jughead was gone and she was there, her long brown hair out, smiling and still saying, “Can you keep this a secret?” She moved towards him and – Archie wakes up, sweating, shaking and manages not to shout. It’s been awhile since he’s had a nightmare like that. He picks up his phone and looks at the time. 6:37am. It’s probably too early to call Josie, but he doesn’t know who else to talk to. He’s well past the age where he could run into his dad’s room and say he’d had a nightmare – the last time was probably just under two decades ago. Besides, it’s not something they talk about. It’s not something they ever talked about. He grabs his cigarettes, goes to his window, and opens it to feel the early morning air on his face. Then he lights up, smoking out the window. He shouldn’t really smoke in here, but he’s desperate for one. He sees Josie’s active on the messaging app, and decides to give her a call. “Hey, is everything ok?” She says immediately. “I’m not waking you up, am I?” He asks, quietly. “No, I’ve been awake for an hour anyway.” She says, sounding tired but not irritable. “Did you just want to talk?” He breathes. “I had a dream about her again.” He says, and she sucks in a breath over the line. He imagines her eyes flashing briefly. “I’m sorry, I’m just a bit shaken and –“ “Don’t say sorry. You know I’m here.” Josie cuts him off matter-of-factly. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He breathes slowly, trying to keep it measured. “Yeah, it has…I think, being here, stirring up all of this stuff, I – I don’t regret coming, but I just don’t know…it’s fucking with my subconscious a bit.” She makes a sympathetic noise. “I’m sorry…I know what you mean, being here is weird for me, too. We’ll get through all this, then we can go back home.” “Yeah, I guess.” He says, dully, staring at the closed blinds of the window across. Josie sighs. “So guess who I’m having ‘afternoon tea’ with today?” “Who?” “Cheryl.” Josie says and sighs again. “How did that happen?” He asks, surprised. He has to talk quietly because it’s still early. “She got a hold of my room’s phone number and called. I really meant to tell her there was no way, I don’t know what happened.” Josie says, sounding tired and annoyed. “Am I being totally pathetic?” “No way! Jose, if it makes you feel better I keep ending up with plans to see Jug, even though last night ended on a weird note.” He says comfortingly. “Oh yeah, your big catch-up was yesterday night! And the dinner – how was your night, basically?” She says, sounding interested. He thinks for a second. “Good, I guess. Dinner was fine, it was good to catch up with Veronica. The catch up went well, with Jug, and we were getting along fine,” “I sense a ‘but then’ coming up.” Josie interjects. “Do you ever…” He says drily. “But then, we end up hearing one of our songs on the radio.” “I don’t see how that’s – “ “It was Kids.” “Oh. No.” “Oh yes.” He says quickly. He sighs. “I – told him about it. And he didn’t get it. He thought it was about all of us as kids. How could he – think that, after I told him what it was about?” Josie is quiet. “Maybe he didn’t want to understand what you meant.” Archie nods to himself, even though she can’t see it. He’s suddenly cold, drenched in cold sweat from the nightmare. It’s probably a reasonable time to take a shower now. “I don’t know…” He replies slowly. “Do you want to meet up later?” “Of course.” She says warmly. “Are you ok now?” “More or less.” * Betty walks to the coffee shop, at seven-thirty in the morning. She and Jughead often meet for breakfast before work here, but she can tell he needs to talk more than usual. She wants to stay out of it, let it be their issue, and not worry. But how can she? When she was there for the worst of it, when she had to pick up the pieces the first time. And Jughead is her best friend, and she’s so afraid that he will get hurt again. Not to mention, Archie. She had gotten out of the habit of worrying about him, because after a while it was like worrying about whether, Katy Perry, or someone was ok emotionally. It wasn’t a part of her life. But seeing him in person, after so long – he didn’t used to look tired like that, a decade’s worth of age and probable unhealthy choices written in his skin. She almost couldn’t connect the tattooed, three-day bearded rock-star with the boy she grew up next to. And yet, it was still him. She’d seen that the other day. Still remorseful, well-meaning, good-hearted even under it all. So why can’t she shake the feeling that this is all headed for disaster? It might also be because of a certain actress that just had to decide she wanted to come back for her ten-year high school reunion. Why? She hadn’t exactly been looking forward to it, but she had at least thought she could count on Veronica being too famous now to care what people she went to school with for two years were up to now. It’s all dancing on a knife edge, and it’s stressing her out more than she would like to admit. She is dragged out of her worrying by a phone call. “Betty? Are you doing anything important this afternoon?” Cheryl asks sweetly. She probably needs something, but in the years since their niece and nephew were born she at least has learned to ask nicely. “Well I was thinking of getting on with some work at home –“ She starts, but Cheryl cuts her off. “Perfect, because I have a favour to ask.” Of course. “I actually am doing something important, and I know I promised Polly I would look after the twins, and I totally would any other day, but I really need you to take them for me,” Cheryl barrels on. She sighs. “Cheryl, you could have at least given me some notice, I’m not sure-” “Please, Betty. It’s really, really important. Vitally important.” She is genuinely pleading. Betty would ask what is so important, but Cheryl is better than most politicians at sidestepping a question she doesn’t want to answer. “I’ll owe you a favour. I promise that. You know I keep my promises, Betty.” She says urgently. “I guess I can…You owe me big, though.” She agrees slowly. “Of course. You’re the best!” Cheryl says, and again sounds genuinely grateful and friendly. Their friendship, if you could call it that, is a strange one formed out of necessity – but it has its moments. “No problem. So, robbing a bank?” Betty adds. “Why would I need to?” Cheryl replies smoothly. “You’ve got me there. Good luck with – whatever you’re doing, I guess?” “Oh…thank-you. I’ll need it.” She says, sounding surprisingly quiet, and hangs up. And the twins are coming over this afternoon, so she has to prepare her apartment for that. Great. She must look pretty anxious when she reaches the table inside where Jughead is already sitting, drinking coffee because he raises his eyebrows at her, looking concerned. “Sorry I’m late, Cheryl called me and I got held up,” She says, sitting down. “So that’s why you look like the sky is falling?” He asks. She scowls at him, not serious. He grins. “Sorry. But you used to get a similar expression around finals. What’s going on?” She sighs. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just a long day, and Cheryl needs me to take the twins this afternoon even though she was supposed to, and I was planning to do some cleaning, and finish some work, but I have to leave work early now-“ “Ok, first of all, breathe,” Jughead interjects. From anyone else, this might seem like an obnoxious calm down, you’re making a scene thing to say, but she has known him long enough to know he’s genuinely just looking out for her. She smiles, and takes a moment. “I have some stuff on today, but I can try and come around and help, if you want?” He offers. She smiles appreciatively. He was always the first to offer help, to try and make things a little easier on her. She is grateful to still have him in her life. Past anything else, he’s always been a good friend. “I should be ok, thanks, Jug. I’ll just try to get my work done before leaving.” She makes a face, then smiles. “Ok, but let me know if you need me.” He says, taking a sip of his coffee. “So, how was it?” She asks, in her best casual-sounding voice. He gives her a look like he is seeing through it immediately, but says, “Ah, yeah, it was weird. It was...good.” He says, and he smiles like he’s remembering something, and it’s so familiar. She knows his smile, she’s known it all her life almost, but this is one she hasn’t seen in years - it reminds her of a boy who’s about to dare his best friend to mix all the soda-fountain flavours together and drink it, and his ginger best friend who dared him to dare him to. She smiles slowly. “Well that’s something.” His boyish smile has now been replaced by a more familiar ironic smirk. “Tell us how you really feel, why don’t you?” He says, ribbing her. She blushes slightly, and laughs. “Sorry, sorry. No, really, I’m glad it was good. What did you do?” She says apologetically, beaming. She is happy to hear it didn’t end in abject disaster, her bets were 70/30 on that one. Not that they didn’t know how to care about each other, how to laugh and understand each other’s humour for two such different boys, but she knew better than anyone how brutal their fights could be. “Hung out at Pop’s. Something new and unusual for us, obviously.” He says drily, and she laughs. She sees his face change for a moment, like something’s occurred to him, or he’s just remembered it. “Betty, did you ever listen to he and Josie’s last album?” He says, too studied by-the-way to really be that. She’s not sure what to say here – certainly before this week she didn’t talk about their music or anything she had heard they were up to with him. She might sometimes talk about it with Cheryl or Kevin, but she knew he really didn’t want to know. But surely he wasn’t considering her listening to their music a betrayal now? She decides to be honest. “Uh, yeah. I wanted to know if it lived up to the hype.” He considers this. “What did you think?” He asks, like he’s not sure it’s the right question. “I – I thought the hype was right. From what I’ve heard over the years, it’s the best I think I’ve heard from them. It’s a really...mature, well-produced, memorable album.” She rambles, unsure of what he’s looking for. He shakes his head, and she half-laughs. “I’m – I’m not sure what you’re asking?” He looks sheepish, embarrassed for a second. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m asking, don’t worry,” “What inspired the question?” She asks, aware that there’s a reason, even if he can’t put it into words. He looks at her, like he’s forgotten they do a fair bit of investigative journalism as part of their day job. He smiles ruefully. “Just something Archie said about one of the songs when I was driving him home. Doesn’t matter.” She narrows her eyes sceptically, but doesn’t press it. Unexpectedly, he says, “So, you know that one that’s always on the radio right now? The new one?” Like he almost wants her to pry into it. “I think I know the one, yes...” He looks away for a second like he’s regretting bringing it up again. “Did you ever feel like it related to you personally, you Betty, like in the lyrics?” He studies her carefully. She thinks about it, and wonders how to answer. “It reminded me of some things, but – I don’t think so. Not about me, anyway.” That was probably the easiest way to answer. The first time she’d heard the song in full she’d just sat there in the car, even though she was already home. It hadn't been hard to figure out who it was about, really. Not if you’d known them. It wasn’t even a sad song, but she’d almost cried for the simple honesty and wistful nostalgia of the lyrics. Maybe it wasn’t even totally about the friend lost to her, and the one lost to him. Maybe it was even her own wistfulness for the past, for being seventeen and fearless and in love. They were almost all lost to each other, she had thought at the time. He looks pensive, and like he didn’t get the answer he wanted, maybe. Betty leaves the coffee shop, and is walking past the newsagents when she sees Hermione walking out with a hessian market bag full of produce. Hermione beams at her, and stops to talk. “Betty! Heading to work?” She says warmly. She likes how Hermione always seems genuinely pleased to see her. They see each other around town often, and her familiarity with both her and Fred means that she’s got an open invitation for dinner almost anytime, which is nice, especially if she is looking after the twins and hasn’t had any time to cook. “I am, but I’m not in a hurry. I see you’ve been to the farmers market already?” She replies, smiling. “You have to get in early, if you want the good stuff.” Hermione says conspiratorially, smiling. “Yeah, I should go more, I just don’t have the time. You know, work and such. I love their produce though, I’m jealous.” She jokes. Hermione gives her a very motherly look. Motherly here meaning, warm and concerned with your wellbeing, not an Alice Cooper motherly look, which is more ‘worried about you, but showing it in an angry, intense way’. “Well you know, you’re always welcome to help us eat it.” She says kindly. “Thanks, Hermione. This week is a bit hectic, but I’d love to sometime soon.” She says. Those dinners are more fun than her semi-regular ones with her own mother, but then other peoples’ parents don’t know how to incidentally push your buttons and bring out your neuroses. Hermione beams. “Well, let us know.” “They didn’t have the Times, nothing’s changed. I know I can just look at it on my tablet, but you know I’m old-fashioned, I like to have the – “ Veronica immediately breaks off, coming out of the newsagents and seeing who her mother is talking to. Betty’s stomach twists. Of course Hermione’s not alone. How could she forget she’d probably want to hang around her daughter, one she barely sees in person, when said daughter is in town? She’s wearing black cat-eye reading glasses, similar to a pair she used to wear, but they probably cost more than Betty’s car. She can’t tell if Veronica is wearing them for reading or just for the aesthetic appeal, but they look good on her. She looks good, especially now Betty’s not viewing her through the canned beans. The only indication that she is surprised in any way was a slight widening of her eyes and two small dots of colour rising in her cheeks, but she transitions it smoothly into a smile before Hermione even looks at her. Betty isn’t as good an actress as the one in front of her, so she feels her smile drop a little, and hopes she still looks calmer than she feels. She’s internally panicking that she should be the one to say something first, but having no idea what, when Veronica picks up the thread first. “Wow, I forgot what it’s like in a small town. Of all the gin joints etc.” She says casually, without malice, but with a familiar smirk. “It’s so good to see you, Betty.” Hermione beams, but Betty feels like Veronica probably doesn't mean it. She smiles anyway. “It’s really great to see you, too, Veronica. I wasn’t sure you’d have time to come to this thing – it might be the first time anyone nominated for an Oscar has been in the school auditorium.” She says, attempting a half-joke and wishing the ground would swallow her up. Veronica smiles. “I have some time off since I wrapped filming. Looks like it’s going to be quite the star-studded party, actually.” She says it with a little hint of irony in her smirk, eyes twinkling. How much it reminds Betty of her former friend’s teenage self is almost breathtaking, and she hopes she can get away soon because it’s too weird to have Hermione there, watching this, and having to pretend like everything’s sunny and happy with her. Not that she’s not used to doing that. But, as her therapist tells her, she needs to practice not doing it. It’s not healthy. She smiles, not confident enough to fake a laugh, and nods. “I guess it’s gonna be. I saw Archie and Josie yesterday, actually.” “We saw him yesterday too. We had a little family get-together. So amazing to have them both under one roof for once, they’re so busy.” Hermione says, sounding proud. She’s obviously not Archie’s mother, but Betty knows she cares about him like a son, and often comes with Fred if he’s flying out to meet him in Los Angeles, or somewhere else in around the country. It amazes her that she has such a deep capacity for caring for others, bringing people into her family despite not knowing them long - like Betty and her sister or her sister’s children or even her stepson’s childhood best friend. But Fred was already like his other father, there for him when his real one flaked out, so maybe it wasn’t surprising she accepted him too. Veronica laughs, light and breezy. “It’s ridiculous. It was fun though, I can’t remember the last time we all got together.” Betty smiles, genuinely, at the thought – she knows how much their separate parents miss them, even if they don’t say it all the time. “You should all catch up, while Ronnie and Arch are in town – this is a pretty rare occurrence, right?” Hermione suggests brightly, and Betty notices Veronica’s smile tighten. “I mean, that would be great – if Betty’s not busy with work?” Veronica says, in a measured tone, looking at her. She doesn’t know what to say, or what Veronica wants her to say, so she ends up stumbling out, “Oh uh, that sounds good, I’d have to check my work calendar, y’know.” It’s sufficiently noncommittally nice that it won’t seem like she’s uncomfortable with the idea. Hermione beams, and Betty can’t be too annoyed – she’s just trying to help. “But speaking of work, I really have to go. It was great to see you two though!” She says, smiling apologetically at them. “You too.” Veronica says, smiling. There is something in her eyes she can’t decode right now. Hermione turns to go, and Veronica adds, unexpectedly, “I’m at the B&B.” She smiles, but it’s different to her actress-smile, and Betty really can’t decode what this means. She smiles, feeling awkward. “Ok, good to...know.” Veronica smiles, and turns to catch up with her mother. Betty walks the rest of the way to walk trying not to attempt to decipher what Veronica really meant and how she really felt, and failing. “Come on, we need to party. It’ll be good for us.” Veronica implored her at lunch. Betty sighed deeply. “You know how I feel about parties. They only end in disaster.” Veronica pouted. “I agree, there has been some drama in the past, but that was a while ago – come on, it won’t be fun without you!” Josie came over and sat down next to Veronica, while Valerie and Melody slid into the opposite seats next to Betty. “What are we talking about, ladies?” She asks, poking at something on her lunch tray. Veronica turned to them. “Thankyou! Can you guys help convince Betty to come to Moose’s party with us?” “My mom’s gonna be out so we can get ready at mine, play some music, it’ll be fun! Val and Mel are going with us, we’ll miss you if you’re not there.” Josie said to Betty in her most persuasive voice, smiling at her. “To be fair, I’m only going because Val and Josie think I need a break from studying,” Mel breaks in, with a empathetic look at Betty. Josie narrows her eyes at her, shooting her the briefest of warning looks. “Buuut I’m looking forward to going out. It’s nice to hang out with you guys, anyway, and if we hate the party I’ll give you a lift back with me,” Mel amended, and Josie and Veronica beamed at her. “Why are we going to a party at Moose’s, again?” Betty stalled. She could feel her resistance to the idea crumbling, but she was going to try at least. “It’s his eighteenth birthday, and his parents are actually allowing him to have a blowout – I don’t know why, but I guess it’s their funeral. All I know is, we could all use some time off from semi-finals study hell. C’mon Betty?” Valerie explained. “Yeah, c’mon Betty!” The four girls chorused, grinning. Betty blushed, smiling, and sighed. “Ok fine. Let’s go to Moose’s!” Josie raised her can of Coke. “To going out with your girls, and forgetting the boy drama.” “Amen!” They all cheered. * “...we don’t have to rush, when you’re alone with me – I feel it coming, I feel it coming babe...” Betty was surprised to realise it, but she liked the playlist. It was fun, and she liked dancing with her friends. She kind of hated to admit it, but she was enjoying the party. Turns out they’re a lot more fun when they don’t devolve into people revealing your mental health issues to everyone gathered. Earlier, they were all dancing in a big group, but as she looked around she realised that it was down to her, Veronica and Mel. She could see Val chatting to that exchange student, the one she had a crush on. She had no idea where Josie had disappeared to, though. And though she hadn’t come as part of their party group, Cheryl had floated over at some point to say hello and dance. Betty was surprised she wasn’t all over Reggie, or someone. Who, come to think of it, she couldn’t see anywhere, either. And someone had told her Jughead had turned up unexpectedly - She would’ve attempted further thought down that road but Mel was saying something to her. “I gotta go, if I break curfew my parents are gonna be so pissed.” She frowned. “Awww no!” She said. “Are you ok to get home?” Mel nodded. “I’m pretty sober now, and I don’t live that far from here.” Veronica frowned too. “So annoying you have to go! Text us so we know you got back ok?” Mel smiled. “Sure.” She holds out her arms to hug them both, and they huddle together for a second. The strange thing about drinking, that she had only recently discovered, is that you never know who you’ll end up bonding with. Mel and her had never been close, but the Pussycats had started sitting with them more this year, and right now she felt like they could be besties. “Guess it’s just B & V now? C’mon, let’s dance, I love this song.” Veronica said as Mel left, and they made their way back into the dancefloor. She giggles, allowing herself to be led. “...I hear sounds in my mind, brand new sounds in my mind...” They were all drunk, but Betty didn’t care. For once in her life, she could let go. Veronica moved well and she’d like to think she wasn’t too bad a dancer, but she didn’t care if people thought she was because she wasn’t thinking about them. “I’m waiting for it, that green light I want it...” They sung along, and the music was so loud they could barely hear their own voices. She was having the most fun she’d had in ages, and it was like all she could see was the girl in front of her, laughing, singing along, dancing with her. Veronica had this quality of drawing things out in people, which was scary when you first met her. She made Betty feel bold and scared at the same time, like how she just made you feel like anything was possible – you can become a cheerleader with me, you can ask your crush to the dance, I’ll defend you to the death if anyone tries to hurt you – and that had been all on the first day they met. But that was then. Maybe it was her drinking-brain, but she didn’t feel scared of her in any way right now. They were friends, and she was just so happy at this moment that she had come into her life two years ago. “I just wanna say that I’m – “ She began, giggling along with Veronica, but then her stomach wobbled. Oh no, she was not going to ruin this by throwing up here. She put a hand to her mouth and Veronica seemed to intuit what was happening, shepherding her out of the crowd and out of the house. There was no one outside really, perhaps because it was cold, but she appreciated the cool air right now. It had been stuffy, hot, inside and she hadn’t even registered it till she felt sick. Though now she was outside, breathing in the cold air without the music pumping, she didn’t feel like she was going to be sick. “Are you going to be sick? I can try and find you a glass of water, maybe?” Veronica asked, sounding worried. She rubbed her face and looked back at Veronica. “No, false alarm I think.” Veronica seemed like she was trying not to smirk, but lost the battle. Betty could feel herself blushing, an odd feeling of warmth in her cold-air dusted cheeks. “What?” Veronica shook her head. “Just glad you’re ok.” Betty laughed. “Thanks. It was a bit intense, in all of those people.” Veronica was staring at her, in an odd way, smiling. “Yeah. I didn’t mind it though.” Betty didn’t know what to say, couldn’t put her finger on what was making her feel weird. She looked away for a moment. “What were you going to say, anyway?” Veronica asked, a giggle in her voice. Betty tried to remember. All she could think about was that Lorde song that was playing before. “I think I was just going to say... I really needed this, tonight. I’m glad you moved here. I’m glad you’re in my life, Ronnie.” She said, a slow, happy smile stretching across her mouth as she looked at Veronica. This time, it was her who didn’t say anything immediately. Her eyes were dark, but warm, incredibly fond. She said after a moment, softly, “I’ve been glad to be, from the minute I met you.” Betty couldn’t reply, just kept her gaze. She shivered, involuntarily, and couldn’t say that it was definitely because of the cold. “Are you cold?” Veronica asked immediately, with a soft little smile. “A little. I’m ok.” She said, even though neither of them were wearing jackets and were only wearing short, thin-strapped dresses. “Can’t have that.” Veronica said, and began to rub her arms. She giggled. “You’ve got goosebumps.” “It is cold out here, what’d you expect?” She giggled, and realised how close they were. Veronica’s hands were warm, and that was all she could think about. They were pulling her in closer. Her heart was beating so fast she thought she might go into cardiac arrest, but she didn’t want to move. She couldn’t even hear the inside party, the music seemed to have faded into nothing. Veronica was looking at her, almost scared, but with such deep affection. It burned in her eyes. She leaned towards Veronica, and Veronica kissed her. Then she kissed her back. Boldly. Maybe it was because Veronica was the only girl she had ever kissed, even before today, but it felt both familiar and like nothing else. She’d had great kisses with ex-boyfriends, to be certain, it wasn’t like she was realising they were terrible – but this felt different. It felt like – fate. She rested her forehead against Veronica’s, lips still tingling. “Was that better or worse than two years ago?” Veronica joked, softly, after a while. She let out a giggle. “Well it was certainly less exhibitionist, so...” * Jughead looks up something online, edits some of his writing, updates his sources, but he can’t pretend that he’s fully focused on the work as much as he tries. It’s ridiculous. He’d spent ten years being able to put them out of his mind – changing radio stations, not reading things on the internet – and yet now the real thing is back, talking to him, joking with him like they were kids again, he can’t focus. Jughead sighs and gets up to make his second cup of coffee. They’ll be gone by Sunday. Then things will go back to normal. More worryingly, he’s not sure the thought brings him any comfort. Archie’s supposed to be here around noon. Then they can continue this strange new evolution of their friendship that’s both awkward and comfortably familiar, dancing around talking about anything important. He’s surprised by Betty as he’s getting out his books. As he closes his locker, she’s there behind it. “Hey, Jug.” She grins at his expression. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” “Call Wes Craven, because you’re a scream.” He says drily. “Nice, I like it.” She laughs. “What do you have next?” “English. Although Mrs Hopwood’s passion for Graham Greene is sapping my life force, I’m so ready to be done with The Quiet American, that’s the third book of his she’s set for us this year-” Archie walks up to them. He smiles at both of them, but turns to Betty almost immediately. “I’ve got your bio notes.” He says, pulling them out of his backpack. “Thank you, oh my god! I was worried I wouldn’t have them for next period.” She said gratefully, tucking them into her book. “Actually, Jug was thinking he might work on some paper stuff over lunch, if you wanted to join?” She said. Jug felt his stomach clench. He’d said to her that it was fine if they wanted to join, it wasn’t weird. “I would join too, but Cheryl’s making Veronica and I attend some River Vixens nonsense,” she said, and Jughead felt worse. “I thought you said you were coming?” he said to her, trying to keep an anxious note out of his voice. She looked genuinely sorry. “She texted us just before, I think we have to go. But you’ll have Archie, right?” She said, looking at him hopefully. He looked awkward, like he wanted to not be having this conversation. He met Jughead’s eyes for a second and looked away. “I, uh, was going to go to the music room and practice.” He said stiltedly. “Sorry, Jug. We’ll catch up.” He said contritely, and sort of nodded at Jughead. “Yeah, we’ll catch up.” Jughead repeated, trying his best to sound casual. “I gotta go, see you - later.” He said, still half-smiling apologetically, and turned and walked away quickly into the throng of students. Betty turned to him with a quizzical expression. He did his best to make his calm appear unstudied. “That was weird,” she said. “Is there something going on with him again?” Jughead’s heart thumped. “Weird? I don’t think that was weird. You know him, easily distracted.” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, and he didn’t like it. She used to make that face when they were investigating and something had just occurred to her. “It’s something between the two of you – actually, you’ve been weird with each other since you came back from the long weekend.” He felt sick. They might now be comfortably far enough from their own relationship - a comforting but ultimately confused thing in its own right – to be close friends again, and he (to the surprise of himself and everyone else) ended up actually supporting the Reggie thing, and he understood that now, but they weren’t at a place that he could be comfortable talking about what happened with her. “No we haven’t. We’re fine,” he lied, hoping the natural affectation of his voice would cover it. She didn’t look like she was buying it. “It’s like you – had a fight, but instead of doing what you usually do, and not talking, you’re just – awkward – around each other,” she said, seemingly at a loss. She was going to figure it out, right here, and then he’d have to tell her and he really didn’t think he could handle that. She looked at him, and he looked back, frowning. “Ok, well, you don’t have to tell me. I just hope it gets better soon, ok? I care about you both, you know.” She said kindly. He felt bad for being mad at her. It wasn’t her fault – they felt weird around each other, but there was no reason they couldn’t get back to their comfortable friendship. This kind of optimism felt weird for him, but this time he had to believe it. It was fine. This awkwardness would pass. * Archie waits around for his coffee, and wonders when his hometown decided to start a farmers market. Of course, there were markets in bigger towns when he was living here, but this is a real market with produce and stalls selling little handcrafted trinkets and organic soaps and stuff. And they have a coffee tent. This sort of thing is commonplace in L.A, so much that you’d barely notice. You could find artists selling handicrafts on Venice Beach almost year-round – but this was another thing he realised was proof of the fact that the town had changed in ten years, even if it felt mostly like it hadn’t. Josie had told him about it, having heard about it from her mother, and Hermione had mentioned it in passing at dinner, so they had decided to check it out. It was something to do, anyway, the town hadn’t gotten that much more interesting in the last decade. She was currently looking at some stall opposite the coffee tent, having already gotten her caffeine fix on the way here, him having waved her on to do something more interesting than wait with him in line. There was also the way people were staring at them – his hair rendered him fairly recognisable anywhere, but together it was near-impossible to mistake their identities, especially for those who remembered them from their eighteen years here. “Archie?” said a familiar voice to his right, shaking him from his thoughts. He turned to see a woman with tight-curly hair, wearing a bemused smile and holding a child on her hip. He couldn’t be more than two or three, but he never could guess ages. “Valerie!” he replies in surprised excitement. She smiles deeply, and she always had a beautiful smile. He’s almost surprised she seems genuinely happy to see him. He’d not got a chance to say goodbye, or maybe he was afraid to, after the offer was made. “I totally didn’t see you, I’m sorry.” He continues, wondering how he missed her right there. She laughs. “It’s alright – now just give me one second.” She transfers the child to the stroller she has with her, and it seems remarkably well-behaved because it doesn’t do anything but gurgle at the change. He doesn’t have time to process the whole image, because she straightens up and hugs him warmly, which he returns. “You have a kid!” he says, unable to not sound so stunned. She laughs again. “Weird, right? I guess that’s a real adult thing.” She looks down at the baby affectionately for a second. He can’t help but smile, as bizarre as the situation is to him. Somehow he’d never thought that some of his old friends would have children now, even though they were definitely at the age where people starting having families. Especially around here – his dad had been a year younger than him when he’d been born and had just started his own business. “Yeah, it really is...” He says, looking down at the child. “It’s pretty cool you made another human though.” She beams. “I think so.” “So are you waiting for your coffee?” He asks. “Yes,” she replies. “If you’re not busy, I’d love to sit down with you here, if we can find a table.” “Of course!” He says and hears his order called. She nods to him to pick it up. The teenager working the counter, maybe the child of the man who runs the tent, gives him a funny, almost disbelieving look when he hands him his coffee. “Thanks, man,” he says nicely, and the boy’s expression turns into a kind of stunned smile. When Valerie collects her coffee shortly after, they find an empty table. “I...I can’t get over how different you look,” she says smiling bemusedly. “I mean, now I’m really looking, of course it’s you, but I almost didn’t recognise you before. Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s a very rockstar look.” He blushes, grinning. “You’re like, the third person to tell me that this week. Shi-“ He considers the young child, and hastily changes what he’s saying, “-eesh.” Val grins. “Very smooth.” The baby suddenly begins to grizzle, which is alarming, but Val just leans down to him and makes calming sounds, and picks him up to sit on her lap. This calms him just as suddenly. Archie does not understand children, even though he generally likes them more than Josie. “What’s his name?” he asks, watching the baby cling to her. “Jimi.” She says, grinning. “I know, I’ve become one of those parents, but I figure it’s not weird enough to get him teased.” He laughs. “Hey, you’re talking to a guy named for a great-grandparent, so that was fun as a child. And I’ve met so many weirder named kids, in L.A – for some reason fame makes people name their kids the most f—effing weird things.” “Oh?” She laughs. “Someone I know named their daughter Carrion,” He says, and Val gasps in amused horror. “Another one named their son Suit Yarn, swear to God.” She shakes her head, laughing. “You’re making that up!” He raises his hands in mock-defense. “You can Google it. I’m not kidding, though I wish I was.” She shakes her head again, in disbelief. “So, Jimi. Are you going to be devastated if he has no talent for guitar? I remember how much you loved Hendrix,” he says, jokingly. “Oh yeah, he can’t play I’m disowning him,” she says, mock-seriously. “And I’m glad you apparently know who he is now?” she teases. He puts a hand to his heart, feigning offence. “I’ve been a professional musician for ten years and you think I still don’t know Hendrix, I’m hurt!” She grins. “No, you’re right, I do have to thank you for introducing me,” he concedes, beaming. She laughs. “Someone had to try and rectify the tragedy that was your musical taste.” He snorts. “Fair.” “So, what are you up to? What are you doing?” She smiles. “I’m sure it’s not that exciting compared to you,” “It’s much more interesting to me,” he cuts in. “Is there a non-creepy way to ask if you’re married? That’s exciting.” Valerie laughs lightly. “Probably not, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” She rocks Jimi a little on her lap. “I didn’t think I would be the type to marry in my mid-twenties, but I’ve now been married coming up on three years, which is weird. But, in a good way.” Archie nods. “Anyone I know?” She seems to think for a moment. “Do you remember that exchange student we had, senior year? He was Chinese, but he came from England?” Archie grins. “Daniel? I remember you had a crush on him,” “Yeah, a bit.” She chuckles. “So, I did some travelling in Europe, got in touch with him, and then we stayed in touch till he moved near here for work. He’s – he’s a good guy. A good dad.” She beams, looking like she’s thinking about some memory. He smiles warmly at her. “I’m glad... I’m glad you’re happy, Val.” She looks at him, still smiling, but pensive. “Thanks, Arch. I just hope...I mean, are you?” He looks away, then back, with a rueful smile. “I’m working on it. Trying to be less of a ‘hot mess’. It’s a work in progress.” She grimaces at the memory, and smiles empathetically. “I shouldn’t have said that. I hope you remember I didn’t mean it.” He shakes his head. “You’re fine. You weren’t exactly wrong...I was an idiot, I didn’t treat you right – I think I probably had it coming.” He chuckles. “Although the beer was not fun.” She puts the hand that isn’t holding Jimi across the table to grasp his hand, briefly. He’s surprised how motherly the gesture feels. “As I told you before, it’s alright, I forgive you. It was hardly the defining relationship of either of our teenage years.” He chuckles. It’s not that he thinks that or regrets the break-up now, but the sting of remembering how badly he’d acted and the humiliation of being called out in front of everyone, again his fault. They managed to become friendly, later, even sort of friends again – but he could never fully forget it all every time he saw her. Somehow though being here, twelve years later and seeing how happy she is – the old memories sting less. “So do you still play?” he asks, wondering if he’s heading into bad territory. She smiles, surprised. “Yes, I’ve playing down at this local bar, although not so much since Jimi was born. I’m actually –“ She glances at him, something worried in her eyes, still smiling. “I’ve actually been teaching music at the high school for a few years.” He can’t entirely stop the twist of panic in his stomach at the thought, though he tries not to show it. It’s ridiculous. It’s not like the position is cursed, like in Harry Potter or something. She seems to intuit his discomfort. She knew about it, of course. She found out when they all did. She reaches out a comforting hand again. It’s probably not the sort of gesture she could do if Daniel was here, but right now they’re just one old friend trying to comfort the other in some small way. He smiles, tightly, at her, and doesn’t say anything. She hesitates, then speaks quietly. “They don’t allow one-on-one music students now. They allow groups of students to practice with me, but there’s a whole system of checks and balances. They’ve made policies to stop things like that happening. Now. I – just thought you should, know.” She looks sad, like she’s wondering whether that was the right thing to say, so he makes an effort to genuinely try and smile at her. “Thanks, Val. I’m sure you’re a kickass music teacher. Those kids are lucky to have you.” He gets it out, attempting to lighten the mood slightly. She beams at him, bringing her hand back to stroke her son’s head lightly. “I hope so! I haven’t been able to do as much since Jimi’s birth, but I’m working my way up to three days a week now he’s getting bigger. As much as I love this little man, I cannot stay home all day with a toddler much longer. That’s what we’re doing here today, getting out and maybe buying some veggies, yes?” She says the last bit to Jimi. He laughs, feeling slightly more recovered. “Sorry, bad mom habit. Are you just checking out the markets on your own?” she asks, looking sheepish. He feels awkward immediately. How had he forgotten about Josie? Where even was she? She probably would have texted if she’d left, and he hadn’t felt his phone vibrate. Val’s face falls a little. “Right, of course. Stupid question. Is she here though? I hope you haven’t abandoned her somewhere so you can catch up with me?” She says, but Her voice has a harder edge than a minute before. He shakes his head. “She’s at a stall across from here – I assumed she would come find me, but she might be haggling with a vendor,” he says, half-smiling apologetically. Her eyes look hurt, but not with him. She doesn’t say anything. He sighs. “She’d probably kill me for telling you, but I know she would really like to see you.” She looks at him, her mouth an annoyed line betrayed . “Well, maybe I don’t want to see Her Highness.” He keeps her gaze, with an empathetic look. “Look, I’m not telling you not to be angry. I know what she can be like, we’ve definitely had our bust-ups in the past –“ Val frowns, holding Jimi to her body like a protective shield. “But, if you can forgive me, for all the stupid things I’ve done – can’t you at least see her? You guys were like, a hundred times the friends we ever were.” Val tuts dismissively. “That’s exactly why I can’t. Imagine your best friend then, Betty or Jug, doing something like that to you, then you’ll get me.” “You know, I really don’t have to.” There’s an awkward silence. Val gives him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. But I just – I’m sorry, I can’t,” she says, more softly. “It’s sweet of you to try though.” He nods, unsure of what else to say. “I had to try.” Jimi starts to grizzle again, and she leans her head down to calm him. “Finally, I wondered if you’d been kidnapped! Well, I was haggling for a while, I know, I can’t help –“ Josie’s voice drifts over to him, as he sees her walk up and then it breaks off. Val looks up from Jimi and her face falls. She sighs as Josie walks around so she’s beside the table looking at them both. Josie looks stunned and very, very uncomfortable. “Well, it was great seeing you, Archie. I’ve gotta get this one home, anyway,” Val says, with a tight smile at him. He returns it, feeling awkward. “Val –“ Josie gets out, strained. Val finishes packing Jimi in his stroller, and straightens up to look at her. “Josie,” she says neutrally. “See you Saturday.” Then she leaves. Josie stands there, stunned, and drops into Val’s vacated seat. “Can we go? There are a lot of people here,” she says faintly. “We’re gone,” he agrees. She looks really shaken up¸ and right now more than anything he wishes that he could fix this situation. “I’m so sorry, Jose. I tried.” She looks at him, miserable – but with the beginnings of irritation too. He recognises it well. “Well if you can’t get her to stop being mad, who can?” She says quietly, but with a harsh edge. He bristles. “That’s not fair, why are you mad at me?” She frowns, and looks like she’s struggling to bite back a reply. They sit in silence. “How are you guys so friendly? It’s not like you were besties in school,” Josie says abruptly. He can feel this turning into a fight, which they probably don’t want to have so publicly, but once Josie makes up her mind to do something, she can’t be stopped, which includes when she wants to fight. “How is this my fault now? You know we were friends, would you rather I ignored her?” he says irritably, trying to keep his voice down. She narrows her eyes. “Was that bond formed before or after you forgot you were dating her, for what, the whole two weeks?” He swallows. “Nice, Jose.” It’s a pretty low blow, and he doesn’t know what to say that won’t end in a public screaming match in this tent. This town might be surprisingly chill about their presence, and somehow they haven’t been trailed by any paparazzi but he doubts their luck would extend to that not going viral. She still looks annoyed, but he can tell she’s already regretting the argument. He looks at his phone, for something to do, but jumps up when he sees the time. “Shit, I gotta run, or I’ll be late to meet Jug,” he says, feeling stressed. It wasn’t exactly the emotional mindset he wanted to be in. He looks at Josie. He doesn’t want to leave the fight hanging, but he also doesn’t feel like he should have to apologise first. It’s not like he even did anything, this time. She looks like she wants to say something, or possibly not have had the fight – and on any other day, she probably would just apologise, and they’d be ok again. It’s like it tapped into something deep and angry inside her, and she’s too mad to apologise now. He gives her a last look, conveying ‘this isn’t done’ with his eyebrows. She replies, ‘later’ in a quirk of her frown. Now he has to walk to the Chronicle, where he can add all her hurt ex-best friend anxiety to his existing hurt ex-best friend anxiety. Great. * Jughead pretends not to notice that Archie’s late. He’s not late enough for it to be properly rude, but he still has to silence a nasty voice that this is the one he decided was too much, and now isn’t coming. “He’s probably just running late, you remember what he was like. Terrible at time management,” Betty says in an undertone, with a reassuring side glance at him. “I haven’t even checked the time, anyway. I’ve got more important things to do right now,” he lies. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Betty nod, apparently choosing to go with it. He gets up to grab something from the printer and sees Archie jogging up to the glass door of the office. Something in him unconsciously relaxes at the sight, and he kinds of hates it. He looks – anxious, or irritable – as he gets closer, but when he meets Jughead’s eyes through the glass he smiles. Jughead can’t help but smile back as he nods at him to come in. It’s hard for him not to notice the looks Archie gets walking into the office. Jughead forgets that not all of them lived and worked here when he was just a kid who went to the school. They might have been vaguely aware that a few people in town had now-famous children they’d never met, but seeing one of them appear in their audience of Wednesday lunchtime was probably more surreal than they could understand. Granted some of the older staff probably remember when he used to trick-or-treat at theirs as a short eight-year-old pumpkin, so they’re not all starstruck. Coming up to him, Archie smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry I’m late – I was at the market, ran into someone, didn’t realise what time it was, had to run.” Jughead shakes his head. “I’ve been so attached to this article I didn’t even realise it was midday already, so I guess – you’re off the hook.” Archie seems like he’s willing to go with this, and smiles gratefully. “Betty, hey!” he says, as she gets up to hug him. Jughead doesn’t know what’s happened with them while he hasn’t been around, but they seem much more comfortable and friendly than he would have thought. He suspects that they’ve had some kind of friendship-patching talk, which is probably good for her, but he’s vaguely jealous for a moment. There’s no awkward-unspoken undercurrent there. “Can’t believe you work together, that’s so cool.” Betty beams. He glances at Jughead a moment, and back to Betty. “If Jug’s ok, do you wanna come get lunch with us?” Archie offers, and he can’t tell if he means it, or he’s just being polite. He nods in support, even though he’s not sure what a catch-up with all three of them would even be like. He’s leaning toward not good. She smiles, looking touched at the thought. “I would love to catch up, but I’m rushing to finish some work actually, I’m going home early. But you guys have fun anyway.” He frowns. “Well, we have to catch up sometime before I go.” She smiles, looking slightly surprised, which she shouldn’t be. Of course he’d want to catch up with her. “Well, I think I’m gonna work from home tomorrow, if you wanna drop by in the morning – if you don’t mind sharing me with Polly’s kids. She’s working a long shift at the hospital and needs me to look after them.” He looks surprised for a moment, then grins, nodding his agreement. “Jesus, I forget they’re not toddlers anymore! I’m happy to. Don’t let me keep you though.” Betty smiles at them both. “Well have a good lunch, anyway.” She turns to go back to her station, and it just them again. “Well, I think we should get out of here before you cause the whole office to grind to a halt. Deb’s been at the printer a suspiciously long time,” he drawls. Archie smirks. “After you then.” * Josie makes her way over to Amherst Lane, in a cab, watching the familiar trees and the leaves being whipped around by the wind. This was a nice part of town, near the house she grew up in. She looks at her phone, feeling guilty. She hadn’t meant to go off like that on Archie. There were a lot of legitimate reasons that she got irritable with him, but that was not one. It had been a kind of childish jealousy, really, a remnant of her old frustration ‘things were so easy for him and no one ever stayed angry at him long’ – something she barely felt anymore, as she’d seen enough evidence to the contrary. Seeing how clearly easy his reunion with her one of ex-best friends had been, when she’d barely looked at Josie...it had hurt. She’d always had a bad habit of taking her bad mood out on people, even her best friends, and was trying in earnest to curb her instinct to stubbornly charge into an argument without stopping. Old habits, though. She hadn’t talked to him since their argument, and her fingers hover over the buttons as she decides to finally send the text she’s been chickening out of sending to him. hey, sorry i went all psycho-josie on you. shouldn’t have lashed out, again i’m sorry. xo, yr very contrite asshole friend :) She’s never been great at apologies, but their friendship has developed its own dynamic with response to arguments between them, and it’s helped her get better at them. The cab stops and she gets out, looking up at the charming apartment block of 96 Amherst Lane. They have the beautiful architecture of – maybe the mid-thirties? – but are probably modern-refurbished inside. She can’t see Cheryl wanting to live in another place with old, creaky, creepy pipes again. As she enters the building and climbs the stairs to number eight, she wonders whether she’s doing the right thing. She could feel herself giving ground already, and that’s how it all had started. “I just don’t get it, is all,” Valerie said, as they ate lunch. “Why do you like her?” Josie shrugged, nonchalantly. “I like that she doesn’t take people’s shit. She gets a lot thrown at her.” Val raised her eyebrows. “She’s also thrown a lot. Often at our friends,” she pointed out. “Val, we’ve had this conversation before.” Josie said. It would be exasperating if it weren’t Val, who was only ever looking out for her. “She’s a complicated person, and I know she’s done a lot – but you have to admit, hasn’t she gotten better since like, sophomore year? She’s friendlier to all of our friends now. I’m not saying she’s become someone else, but isn’t she better?” Val looked like she was thinking about it. “I guess you have a point, she’s improved from two years ago.” “Yeah, it was tragic that Jason died, but I’m thankful she stopped thinking of ways to remind people in every conversation,” Mel added, with a dark chuckle. Josie attempted not to smirk and failed. Val suddenly smiled craftily, like she knew something. “If I still cared about that relationship in the slightest, I’d remind you that she did go hard trying to steal my boyfriend sophomore year, for reasons I don’t want to unpack.” Josie looked sheepish, having almost completely forgotten about that mess. “But I don’t, so I’m just going to ask, are you sure you don’t just have a crush on her?” Valerie said, with a teasing smile. “Oooh,” Mel said, poking her in the side. She blushed, which was rare for her. “That is - she is just terrible, face-wise, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.” They giggled. They had only gotten around to watching Parks and Recreation recently, years after it ended, but lines would stick with them for days. Val raised a shrewd eyebrow. “Alright. But if she hurts you in anyway, she’s going to answer to me.” Josie shook her head, grinning. She walked home, through the woods, even though she knew her mother wouldn’t approve. But then again, she did a lot that her mother didn’t approve of. She was thinking about the start-of-senior-year party Cheryl had thrown two weeks earlier. She might live in a huge, creepy estate that Josie was sure was haunted – there was a graveyard on the grounds, for God’s sake – but whatever deal she had with her parents allowed her to throw some pretty great parties, hence the many teens who would venture out to such an otherwise creepy place. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice a pair of gloved hands until they had clapped over her eyes. “Are you here alone?” “Well, I’m meeting someone here, but she’s late, so that’s annoying..” “Sorry, Tina had some drama,” Cheryl said smirking, removing her hands to let Josie turn around. Josie beamed at her, moving closer, shivering slightly in the early-February cold. Cheryl beamed back. “But I can make it up to you,” she said, and kissed Josie. Josie shivered again when they broke apart. “C’mon let’s get to mine. Mom is working late, and I am freezing.” She looked at Cheryl again. “I don’t understand how you don’t have frostbite. Bare legs? In February?” Cheryl giggled, a musical sound. “I know people say I’m a cold-blooded bitch, but really I’m hot blooded.” Josie took her hand, smirking. “I’m still not gonna be responsible for you getting gangrene, come on.” Cheryl’s party had kind of changed her life, but for the last two weeks she hadn’t been able to tell anyone. Of course, she’d been pretty much out since she was fifteen – she’d never been much for trying to hide it, but it seemed like it hadn’t become common knowledge until a year later – but this was different. She hadn’t gone to the party thinking anything would happen, but then Mel and Val left earlier than her, and she ended up hanging out with Cheryl, cleaning up and talking. Then they had been sitting and talking, until suddenly they weren’t talking anymore. When they talked about it, Cheryl had pleaded to keep it secret, if they wanted to continue. With anyone else she could probably have stormed out, yelling that she deserved better – but she saw the real fear, the same she’d seen the time in the parking lot when they were thirteen, in Cheryl’s eyes. Josie had never liked the Blossom parents but she especially hated them now. Even for someone so ballsy, so unafraid of most things, her parents had a pull on her out of fear and duty and whatever else rich white nonsense there was. So now she was left pretending she was where she’d been before the party – denying her crush to her friends, and having a strange friendship with Cheryl at school. Well except Veronica, who had noticed she was sneaking off more – nothing got past her. Luckily, she was also the one who might just understand the most, and she agreed to keep quiet about it. Josie was stirred from the memory by the door opening, a light waft of floral perfume reaching her senses. “I’m so happy you decided to come, Josie.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Save me, I’ve been drinking wine. I just made a big mistake, happens all the time. So baby, why you look so sad? You’ve been trying too hard, too hard to be happy. Where’s the sense in that? – Bad Decisions, Two Door Cinema Club Cheryl’s apartment is nice inside – probably professionally decorated, uncluttered, inviting. Josie wouldn’t expect different from her, but it’s also very different to her memories of that creepy mansion behind the gates. That place had never been inviting in its life, and it seemed designed that way.She watches Cheryl get two matching cups from the cupboard, as she’s waiting for the kettle to boil.The business must be going well if she affords this apartment on her own. Or maybe she’s taking money from her mother, but Cheryl’s too headstrong for that. She would want to prove that she doesn’t own her.Despite the inviting nature of the place, and the delicious-looking afternoon tea spread, she feels uncomfortable here.She likes to know the plan, where things are going – she excels at this at home when they need to know what their next move is, often. The fact that she has no idea what’s going to happen is making her nervous.The kettle boils, and she watches Cheryl turn it off.“Do you still have sugar, or have you cut that out? I know there’s a big health kick culture in Los Angeles but I find so many people take it way too far, like that’s going to help more.” Cheryl asks her brightly, busying herself with pouring the hot water into a prettily-patterned teapot.She mostly has very little sugar – they have the money to eat healthy, and exercise well – but she can forgive small amounts. “Yes, one’s fine.”She helps carry the tea to the dining table, and wonders what Cheryl’s thinking. Once upon a time, she may have fooled herself that she was one of the only people in town who could figure it out, but she’d just been stupid and in love. Who knew what Cheryl was ever thinking?They sit at the table, with its beautiful spread, and neither of them talk first.Cheryl takes a measured sip of her tea, and then looks at Josie. Josie wonders what she's doing here, and what Cheryl is about to say. What does she want to hear?"I thought I would know what to say, when I saw you," Cheryl begins, and Josie recognises a glimmer of nervousness in her eyes. "But then the other day - in hindsight, I suppose it's not surprising to think I might run into you outside your mother's office, but really I thought you wouldn't be in town until later - what I mean, is that I know you hate it when you think I'm being 'fake'. I wanted to invite you here to be real with you."Cheryl keeps eye-contact, guarded but looking for her reaction closely.Josie makes sure her face shows nothing but cool indifference, but really she has no idea how she feels. "Ok, I think I can do that." She says crisply.Cheryl smiles, small but genuine, and Josie feels a warmth in her stomach. She wills it to go away."You probably don't want to hear it from me, but I always knew you would be big when you got out of here."Josie is busying herself buttering a scone. She wants to bite back, "That's not how I remember it," but that would be crossing an unspoken line neither of them is ready to yet.Instead she nods, slowly. "Thanks." She says, honestly, looking at Cheryl. She looks like she's remembering - maybe the last time they talked, before this week."You haven't done too badly either," She says, feeling like she should keep the conversation going. "Archie told me you and Kevin Keller are in business?"She beams. "Event planning. It's perfect - I get to yell orders into a mic, and micromanage everything, and people pay me a lot to do it."Josie smirks inspite of herself. "Sounds perfect. So you work well with Kevin then? I guess I can see it?"Cheryl breaks into a bemused smirk at this. "You're one to talk. I don't think any of us saw that one coming?"Josie smirks again, not being able to help it. "Fair point. He is really the last person I would have thought I'd be hanging out with most by now. But... he's actually been a pretty great friend to me over the past few years."Cheryl gives her an appraising look. “Funny how that happens, isn’t it? If you’d told me back in high school that in the future I’d be willingly be socialising with Kevin Keller and the Cooper sisters, I would have told you had a brain injury, and yet...it’s kind of nice to have friends, not just - lackeys.”Josie nods her agreement. “If you had told me after the first time he asked to write for us that we were going to get famous in a band, just the two of us, I probably would have been like, ‘White boy with an acoustic guitar and I? Sure, when hell gets a snow day!’,” Cheryl smirks. “But here we are. I can’t picture my life another way, really.”“You know, I had some idea that I would be famous when I was younger. I wanted everyone to know my name.” Cheryl muses.Josie smirks. “They would love you in Hollywood, you’d be good for the drama.”Cheryl laughs. “I think I enjoy being the director more than the performer now. No one controls me.” “That’s...really good.” Josie says, honestly, and then wonders if she should continue. “It took me some time to get back control of my life from toxic bosses and just, shitty industry people, but now I choose what I’m doing – I hated feeling like a pawn in a bigger game.”“Tell me about it.” Cheryl replies, a sharp note in her voice that doesn’t seem directed at Josie. “That’s why I started my own business. Why continue letting Penelope control me, when I can be my own boss?” She flashes a somewhat steely smile.“Do you talk to her much?” Somewhere in her mind, Josie is proud that Cheryl seems to have broken out of the intense and creepy hold her family had over her.Cheryl sips her tea, and then looks at her again, appreciatively. “I see her when I have to – the twins’ birthday, and the anniversary of Jason’s death, and some others – but mostly I keep out of her business, and she out of mine. She’s never been here. I wouldn’t ever want her to.”“It’s your space. I understand the need. I love my mom, but I always put her up in a hotel when she comes out because I cannot have her staying with me, making ‘suggestions’ and judging what’s in my fridge.” Josie says, with feeling.Cheryl smiles. “I don’t know if I’d even talk to my mother if I was famous. At least the Mayor loves you.”Josie doesn’t try to disagree. She wasn’t sure Penelope even knew how to love the child that wasn’t her golden-boy son, a boy Josie hadn’t known well but who had never seemed like the more interesting twin to her. She hopes she won’t run into the woman in town, because she had always given her the creeps, and had only fake smiles for her as the Mayor’s daughter.Cheryl looks at her with surprising sympathy in her eyes, but also hesitance. “How about your father? Do you see him much?”Others might be surprised to know Cheryl was capable of caring so genuinely, but Josie knew that it was a privilege reserved for those she actually cared about. She always seemed at war with herself: the side of her that wanted to be chaotic and cause trouble, the one that dutifully went along with whatever lies her parents wanted accepted and the remorseful, afraid, empathetic one that wanted to save people from what was too late for her.The mix of emotions the question made her feel were confusing, irritating her – anger and hurt over her father, moved that Cheryl remembered, relief that she wasn’t using it to be nasty as she might have done a long time ago, and annoyance that she was moved at all.She looks up from her tea, and attempts a disaffected, cool smile. They have always had that in common. She wonders whether to tell the truth, but somehow she can’t see this being an elaborate front to get secrets to sell to gossip websites, and so she continues. “I haven’t seen my father in like, six or seven years. Since I was 21, anyway.”Something that Josie always liked about Cheryl is that she had a way of being sympathetic that wasn’t cloying.“He was probably jealous that you outstripped him. I mean, you know my father was a monster. I wouldn’t have talked to him again if he hadn’t offed himself. There’s no reason for someone like him to take up space in your life, when you’re supporting yourself.” She says this in a coldly matter-of-fact way.Coming from someone else, it could seem rude, but to her it felt like Cheryl was the only person who wasn’t going to urge her to try and get in touch with him. Theirs wasn’t a situation where things had been said, and neither had the courage to speak, it wasn’t a movie where everyone can fix their issues with their parents. It had just been over two decades of anger and disappointment reaching a breaking point. “C’mon, c’mooon, it’s heree somewhere..” Josie stage whispered, scrabbling around the doorframe. “Is it under the mat? My dad used to hide it there, hahah.” Archie giggled. “No, I was told there’s a key!” She replied, her stage whisper getting louder, unable to regulate her volume. “Shh, shh,” Archie shushed her just as loudly, and she giggled, mimicking the sound. “This isn’t gonna wo-ork,” He sing-songed, quieter. She looked at him, determinedly. “Hush your mouth. What was all our brilliant work convincing the doorman that we have news I couldn’t wait to tell him, and that he was, HAPPY, to let us let ourselves in? You patting my stomach without actually ever mentioning a BABY? Do you want our best sober-acting to be a WASTE, Andrews?” She hisses at him. “That was pretty great – fuckowsch!” he overbalanced as he laughed, falling against a large, expensive-looking stone decorative vase. “Shh!” She said, giggling. He laughed too, inspite of it. “Maybe we should just go...home? Order a kebab...or like, three kebabs. Or like, a mountain of Indian –“ She held up a hand to stem the flow of food suggestions. Though a kebab sounded really good right now...But no, she was on a mission. “Wait a moment, I have a idea.” She opened her clutch and found her credit card. She had once seen a video on someone breaking into a room with a credit card, and had been so interested she’d learnt how to do it, and stored it away for an opportune moment. It was amazing how she could remember when she was this drunk though. The door unlocked, and she threw her hands up in victory. “Fuuuuck, that’s cool.” He breathed out, sounding awed. “I’m a FUCKING GENIUS.” She said triumphantly, laughing, and he shushed her, laughing as they pushed the door open and walked into the apartment, closing it behind them. “Drinks tray!” He called, and she whooped, coming over. “Nice taste. Feel free to take a bottle, Arch. Early Christmas present, there.” She slurred, laughing as she grabbed a bottle of scotch, and clinked it with the bottle of vodka he was holding. \* “Shiiiit, I can hear something, Jose-“ Archie said suddenly, pulling her down behind the kitchen island they had been standing at. “Ow, what are yo – fuck, I can hear voices – he was supposed to be interstate tonight, shit –“ She whispered. They could hear a man’s voice, laughing and someone else. Clearly, he’d also been imbibing – and they were too drunk to be too worried about the situation. “Yikes,” she whispered, making a face and he giggled and she shushed him, grinning. They heard the door open. “You have to hear Baker on the first edition vinyl, baby, it’ll change your life-” Josie mimed vomiting. “Myles, baby I would love to,” his breathy voiced female companion cooed, “But I think we’re alone now, finally.” This set Josie and Archie off, giggling uncontrollably. What did it matter if he found them? It was all so ridiculous. “Hello? Who’s there?” came his voice, harshly. “Come out, unless you want me to call the cops?” "Oh Myles, be careful!” the unknown female voice fretted. This only made them laugh harder. They heard his footsteps come closer, until he was standing over them. His face transmuted from confusion to fury very quickly. She looked up him, still giggly. “Hi, Dad.” “Josephine?” He hissed. “How did you get in? Are you drunk? This is a very bad time for this nonsense!” She sat up, and raised a finger in the air like she was attempting to teach him a point. “Well, never you mind – did you know, some dads actually want their kids over? Archie here – His dad was great. Always left a key under the mat.” Archie half-waved, failing to suppress his grin. Myles’ mouth became an even thinner line as he regarded Archie next to her. “Oh, it’s the Andrews boy, I guess you’re still hanging around him. I thought you didn’t even like him? From memory, he’s an idiot.” Josie flared up, standing unsteadily, helped up by Archie. “Ok, first of all, fuck you, he’s more like my family than you are, and second of all, I can understand your confusion, that impression is only, what, five years old?” She might call Archie an idiot sometimes, and sometimes she might mean it, but fuck it if she was going to let Myles McCoy insult the only real friend she had. His date came over finally. Josie wasn’t surprised – she was younger than him by at least a decade, thin, model-looking. “Oh hey, I know you guys,” She said breathily, sounding surprised. “I had no idea she was your daughter, Myles. I love your music, wow.” Archie looked mollified, but Josie narrowed her eyes, and smiled dangerously. “And III love that dress. You really are gorgeous, and you really could do So Much Better than this pretentious asshole. You’re young, you’ll be fine.” The woman looked unsure of how to respond, open-mouthed and looked at Myles, as if wondering if she’d also been insulted. He looked thunderous. “Go home, Ava. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He said tersely. She looked like she wanted to question and began to do so, but he barked, “Go!” again and she left with a brief look at them. "This is unacceptable, Josephine.” He said, furiously. “What is the meaning of this, I should call the police on you!” She laughed but it wasn’t with any real humour. “But you won’t! It would look so BAD for you wouldn’t it?” “If this is about your birthday party, you know I had a function that night I couldn’t get out of. This is really childish, Josephine.” She laughed again. “Childish? How about your girlfriend-of-the-week? She’s not much older than me! She is fucking gorgeous though, props for that. Not my type, but she is stun-ning. When do you trade her in?” She said viciously. He narrowed his eyes even more. “Don’t be vulgar. I guess that’s hard not to learn for popstars like you, though. It’s a shame.” She sucked in a breath, and Archie squeezed her hand once, comfortingly. Myles saw this and scoffed derisively. “And you think you can judge me for who I’m sleeping with, child?” She let go and threw her arms up in frustration. “Jesus FUCKING CHRIST, how do you still not get this? I’m not ‘sleeping with’ him because I’m SO FUCKING GAY, and you know this, even though you pretend you don’t. Is that it? Is that why you never really want to see me, you never come to the things I invite you to, or is that only part of it? C’mon, I wanna know!” He looks at her, with thinly veiled disgust. “You wanna know? Really?” He said, coolly. “After twenty-one years of your expectations, and missed birthdays, and general bullshit, I’d love to have an explanation at least for why I’m such a disappointment to you!” She fires back. “Fine! I never – wanted – a – child. I wanted your mom, and me, but I knew a child wouldn’t fix our problems. But we had you, and for a while I thought I could do it – but I saw you get older, I saw the way you dressed, the way men began to look at you, the way you never looked at them.” Myles said coldly. Then, almost wonderingly, “You’re like an alien to me, I don’t understand you. I just remember my sweet little girl, and I wonder where did she go? I think you should go home, and I’ll very kindly agree to forget about this.” Josie’s eyes were glossy with tears that she willed not to fall, and she seethed at him. “Well, newsflash, I fucking get you. You’re a washed up, pathetic, pretentious asshat and you can’t STAND that I’m bigger than you already – your FUCKING pop-music singing, lesbian disappointment of a child – and I NEVER want to see you again. You can finally stop pretending you have any stake in my life.” It was hard to know what effect her tirade had on him. His lips stayed thin and white, and his eyebrows stayed knitted together, and he said nothing as they passed him to leave. “ “It wasn’t fun, to say the least.” Josie continues.Cheryl looks at her, as she stirs the rest of her tea around her cup, and says slowly, “It makes you realise how lucky you are to have other family – in a way it’s like I count my friends in that, and my niece and nephew are the most beautiful things to come out of such an ugly, miserable time in my life.” She smiles softly, looking at her tea swirling.“I forgot, they must be big by now. Are they good kids?” Josie asks, weirdly fascinated – they had been born when she was a sophomore, though she’d only seen them a few times as babies.“Despite my attempts to spoil them whenever I see them, they’re great – smart, great dressers, popular –“ Cheryl says, sounding proud. “Everything you’d expect a Blossom to be, obviously. Except that they’re popular because their friends actually like them, go figure.” She smiles an ironic smile, and Josie laughs.“They sound great. Maybe I’ll be able to see them before I leave?” Josie ventures.Cheryl smiles wider. “They’d love that, actually, if you have time. Ophelia especially, she loves your music.”Cheryl had to have had some stake in naming her niece because the name was distinctly her, old-fashioned, literary, glamorous. Maybe she’d even compromised with Polly over an even more over-the-top one. “Well she sounds cool, then.” Josie jokes. “She is.” Cheryl states proudly. “As much as I would love to see Polly dearest find someone who can support her, I do love that I can spend so much time with them when she’s working. It’s the closest I think I’ll ever be to having children, anyway.”“Tell me about it.” Josie says derisively. “I swear, every year I get older more people are asking me if I want to get married, if I am going to have kids. Like I even have the time for a relationship?”Cheryl tuts in agreement. “I’m trying to run my business that has grown exponenentially in value since we opened it, with originally only three people on staff at twenty-four years old. I have an MBA. But clients still ask, oh when are you going to plan one of these events for yourself? Imagine when you have an Ophelia of your own, won’t that be nice? Like I have the fucking time.”“I hear you.” Josie agrees, raising her tea cup in a half salute.“So, in the interests of being real, no relationships for you then? I’m just curious.” Cheryl asks nonchalantly.Josie fixes her with a questioning look. They were going to get to this eventually anyway, though.“Ugh, ok. I could do with something stronger than this if we’re going there, though.”Cheryl grins wickedly. “I’ve got some wine in the kitchen, if you like Cabernet?”Josie raises an eyebrow.“Calm down, it was a gift from Kevin.” Cheryl says innocently, disappearing into the kitchen.The wine is nice, wouldn’t have been cheap. It’s relaxing Josie. Cheryl only ever looks pleasantly flushed when she drinks, which considering her and skin combination, Josie always thought must be witchcraft.She’s put some soft music on too, not the louder pop she had been so fond of, but the chiller indie-pop she used to listen to if no-one but Josie was around.“She stole my favourite hat! Then she wrote a song about me. Of course no one knew it was about me, so I guess it was ok. That was kinda the last time I attempted an actual relationship-type thing.” Josie relates, laughing.“I could totally see that about her. She puts out such a chill, quirky vibe but I’ve always thought she had a possessive look to her.” Cheryl replies with a irreverent giggle. “Your turn. What was your last attempt at dating?” Josie says, tipping her glass at Cheryl.Cheryl rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what it’s like being famous, and maybe living somewhere with more than a few thousand residents, but it is dire here. That sad gay bar is still all we have here, and there’s almost no such thing as not seeing your random Tinder hook-ups when you’re buying vegetables, or something.”Josie giggles. “So not much then? No judgement, it’s not exactly easy to go on hook-up apps when you have a well-known face. Archie often feels like he has to wingman me.”Cheryl laughs. “He would be a terrible wingman. Far too easily distracted.”She snorts. “He is. But sometimes he gets it right.” She pauses. “There was this girl once, he introduced me to her at a festival. An actress. She was the closest I ever got to – whatever. Years ago now.” Cheryl is watching her, casually, but with intense eyes. “What about you? Did you ever get close?”Cheryl opens her mouth, then closes it again. “I don’t know. I dated, but none of them, really...maybe once. It ended civilly though, I don’t think we miss each other.”Josie nods, unsure of what to say yet.Cheryl takes a steadying sip of her wine, and continues, looking directly at Josie.“Josie, I’m – I’m sorry for how things ended. I don’t expect your full forgiveness immediately, but I have to think that you came here today because you wanted to hear what I have to say. I’ve thought about that day a lot over the last few years, and we both said things, but honestly – I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so, so sorry that I did.” Josie’s head is spinning, and it’s not the wine’s fault. Cheryl was right – what had she agreed to come here for if not to have this conversation? But the idea of it is still stunning to her. Never in a million years would she have thought Cheryl would apologise first, even though she had wanted her to so badly. She takes a fortifying sip of her own wine, and breathes in, then looks back up at Cheryl. “I won’t deny that I’ve been angry, hurt about that, in the back of my mind. For a while I wanted to just forget you existed. Then I thought I would come here, and I wouldn’t even be able to be around you without feeling that hurt, that anger from that day. And I did,” she recounts slowly. Cheryl looks paler than a ghost, which is an achievement for her already.“At first, until we started talking. I realised I actually wanted you to know that I’m sorry for hurting you, as well.” she sighs, thinking of what to say next.“Regardless of how I felt, I shouldn’t have said those things. Now, I’m wondering if we might be able to become – friends, maybe? After all this time.” she finishes , and watches for Cheryl’s reaction.Two spots of colour are rising in her cheeks. Josie wonders if she’s somehow offended her. Then she smiles. “I would really like that.”Josie smiles.They sit for a moment in silence, finishing the last of their wine.Then a song comes on, and Josie laughs lightly, shaking her head. Regrets collect like old friends, here to relieve your darkest moments Cheryl beams, surprised. “I haven’t heard this in years! Come on, to seal this new agreement, we must dance. It’s fate.” She says, getting up and offering her hand.“Fate or Spotify.” She cracks, but takes the hand anyway.She wonders what she’s doing, and why she could never say no to Cheryl. Except the last time, obviously. She quiets the suspiciously Archie sounding voice in the back of her mind, telling her STOP WRONG WAY GO BACK. It’s just dancing.It starts as a fun dance, just them laughing and moving to the music. And I am done with my graceless heart, so tonight I’m going to cut it out and restart. She remembers viscerally for a second, looking at Cheryl, that she always liked that line. She remembers Cheryl dancing around to it, in her room, not the gothic nightmare that was Cheryl’s own room. This was their song, and even though it hadn’t been Josie’s kind of music at all she had loved it.It happens after she lets Cheryl spin her, laughing, that they’re suddenly dancing much closer, slower.She should go. She should at least stop dancing like this. That would be the smart idea. But she doesn’t. She allows Cheryl to rest her head in the crook of her neck and shoulder.Her heart is beating too fast, but the wine has made her feel warm and slightly buzzed.“I miss you, you know.” Cheryl says very softly. Josie catches it because she’s so close to her ear anyway. “It’s hard to forget about you when I feel like I see you everywhere.”“I wanted you to come. You were the one who said no.” She says wistfully. It hurts to think about, but it also feels distant, like wondering who she would be if her parents were still together. She’s had too many experiences that have made her who she is to wonder what it would be like if something had been different before all of it.“I know - I don’t regret how my life has gone since you left, I’m happy. But I hear your music come up in random playlists, or waiting in lines, and I see your face on magazines. You got away from here, but I’m not allowed to forget about you even I wanted to.” Cheryl says, lifting her head to look at her, a note of bitterness in her voice.“You think I don’t have that? You might not be physically there, but I still see you everywhere. I never forgot about you. I’ve written songs about you!” Josie retorts, throat feeling tight.Cheryl looks curious. “Which ones?”Josie frowns. Cheryl backs off, saying “Another time.”“What am I doing here, Cheryl?” She asks, suddenly tired. “You said you wanted to be real, so...what are we doing here?”Cheryl frowns. “I told you how I feel, how much more real can I possibly be? I can only do so much...”“What do you want me to do then?” Josie retorts.“This.” Cheryl says, and kisses her.She returns it. The little voice in her head is nowhere to be heard. *“Stop killing me dude! Ah, fuck!”“Not my fault you still suck at this!”“You’ve gotten better, I used to be able to kick your ass at this!”“Or maybe I just went easy on you?”Archie gasps in mock horror. “You wouldn’t.”Jughead smirks, keeping his eyes on the screen. “You got that kicked-puppy look when you lost, maybe I couldn’t take it any more.”Archie stutters in a combo movement, and Jughead’s character knocks his out.“And that’s why you don’t allow your opponent to psych you out! Of course I didn’t just let you win, that would be madness.” Jughead taunts.Archie shakes his head, a look of utter betrayal on his face. “Well, fuck. I don’t know if I feel more shocked about you letting me win or the fact that you lied about that to psych me out.” He says, then smiles. “And a little impressed. I guess journalism’s put you on a dark path?”“Oh yeah, your sense of ethics gets very twisted when you’re dealing with complex issues like the town fete, or why the farmers market runs out of arugula so quickly?” Jughead deadpans. Archie laughs. “That’s a conspiracy that goes all the way to the top.”Lunch had become a long lunch, which had become Jughead taking a half-day off. His boss was pretty lenient, because he rarely took unscheduled time off. Still, he had hesitated to ask – how long could they spend with each other not mentioning anything bad that happened. Archie had been happy to hang out more, so he’d tentatively offered they go back to his apartment and play some video games – for old time’s sake – and now here he was, kicking his old best friend’s ass at the nostalgic vintage videogames they used to play. He was surprised that they were managing to get along, almost like no time had passed. When he’d first seen him, in person, he almost hadn’t recognised him, but spending more time with him it was obvious it was the same person. The same earnest smile, the same freckles, the same easy warmth.“I guess I have more time to practice, what with all the parties and world tours and interviews you have to do.” He jokes.Archie grins. “I mean, yeah. One time I did end up in a game battle with a Japanese games developer at a party in Tokyo. He taught me a few things.”Jughead rolls his eyes, but can’t help smiling. “I hate you again, I would love to go to Tokyo.”Archie laughs, in a self-aware way. “Sorry, not meaning to brag. Tokyo’s very cool, but I think you’d enjoy Reykjavik more.”Jughead raises an eyebrow. “This is you not bragging?” Archie grins more. “Ok, fine tell me why I’d enjoy Reykjavik,”“It’s cold, so you’d always have a reason for wearing more layers than you need here.” He swats at Archie, who dodges with a chuckle. “It’s a great place for writing, very moody. Lots of natural beauty and scenery to explore, and the people are pretty chill. They don’t approach celebrities on sight usually, which is great. And yet, they believe in magical things – some of their roads are built around small hills they believe elves live in, and there are stories of how bad things have happened when they’ve tried to build through them. It’s very inspiring.”Jughead is quiet, watching Archie describe it. It’s things like this that remind him they are older – when they were teenagers he couldn’t have gotten Archie to point to Reykjavik on a map, much less be interested in the local folklore. He’s lived a lot more now, gained some kind of more knowledge just from experiencing things – and apparently beefing up on his music history, as he’d found a Screamin’ Jay Hawkins record Jughead had found at a record fair and asked if he could play it. This from the boy who didn’t understand Bob Dylan or Bowie references.“I’ve read about that, yeah. I’d like to visit it.” He replies, but it comes out sounding weird to his ears.Archie nods, then after a beat says, “You should. They’d love you.”He scoffs. “Oh yeah, I’ll just take a holiday to Iceland.”“Sorry.”He immediately feels guilty at how harsh his words came out. “No, I didn’t mean it to sound so, bitter.”Neither of them say anything to this, so he tries to explain, carefully. “I was always planning to go on this big trip overseas after college, and I had the money saved...and then my dad, he gets behind the wheel after a few too many drinks, and crashes into a telephone pole. Luckily, his injuries were only minor, but I was afraid-“ He takes a steadying breath. He doesn’t tell this story often, but Archie was well aware of his dad’s problems. “I couldn’t take the chance it would happen again. So, I checked him into rehab. He paid me back by staying clean ever since.”Archie looks so pained, it almost hurts him. “Shit, Jug. I’m so sorry.”“It’s fine. I mean it’s not, fine, but it’s ok. Now.” He says, hoping he’s not about to start crying. He almost wishes he hadn’t told the story, maybe he wouldn’t feel small and vulnerable like a kid again. It was Archie being here too, Jughead had always been the exposed nerve at school and he’d always been the one getting high fives and smiles and looking perfectly like a popular teenage boy should.He sees Archie almost reach out his hand, and make a fidgety gesture, then pull it away, like he wanted to comfort him but thought better of it. He wouldn’t have worried about it, when they were ten, twelve, fourteen. They used to be very tactile, it had been the way since they were little. They thought nothing of comforting touches, hugs, legs touching as they sat on the couch watching movies. But it always has to become weird, society has to intrude to tell you that’s not what boys do. Normal boys.He realises again, sitting next to each other on the couch, they’ve allowed each other to forget their awkwardness. It’s the closest they’ve physically been to each other in years.How had they pretended they were comfortable with each other? How had they both managed to temporarily forget what happened?He moves down the couch jerkily, and Archie looks instantly hurt. Archie seems to unconsciously mirror the movement, moving back too.“I guess you’re glad you didn’t come to college with me. We had all these plans to travel, and I would have let you down.” He suddenly says, and it’s like someone else is controlling his mouth like a puppet. It’s exactly the sort of comment he’s been carefully avoiding making for two days.Archie looks ready to take the bait. Maybe he’s been avoiding doing that for two days too. “You know me so well, Jug. I’m that much of an asshole, right?” He says quietly, hurt. “Actually I don’t know, are you?” He retorts, knowing he could have just apologised. But the whole situation is ridiculous. He can’t play pretend that they’re still sixteen anymore.Archie looks like he’s been slapped. “Ok, we’re doing this? We had vague plans to travel, maybe if we got the money, for one. And apparently you still don’t remember I never wanted to go to college – or have you rewritten that in your head?” Jughead waited outside the library. He’d been inside when he’d gotten Archie’s text asking if they could meet up because he had something important to tell him,. Knowing him though, important could mean anywhere from relevant news to Do You Think This Girl Likes Me to a photo he took of a cool squirrel. They’d managed very tentatively to stop being awkward around each other, but it was definitely predicated on them not mentioning the mishap from the road trip. Jughead’s heart had a sudden, irregular jolt of panic. That couldn’t be what this was about? No way. The clouds above were grey and thick with rain, and as he noticed them he realised he also didn’t have an umbrella. This talk was going to have to be quick or moving towards shelter pretty quickly. In the distance he saw Archie hurrying forward with takeaway hot drinks, most likely from Pop’s. He looked exhilarated, bursting with some kind of news. “Hey Jug! I was thinking we could walk home with these, I think it’s about to storm, but I gotta tell you what just happened.” He said it in a rush, almost tripping over the words. Jug took the cup he was offered. “It must be big, if you’re bringing me coffee.” He smirked, even though he felt a little unsettled. “I’ve brought you hot drinks before?” Archie replied with mild indignance. “Anyway, not important.” They walked in silence for a few seconds. Archie seemed to be figuring out what to say. It was not boding well for him. “So you know how there was that show that I was doing with the Pussycats?” He began. “Yeah, that’s not for two days right?” He asked. “I haven’t missed it have I?” Archie shook his head – more like an excited golden retriever than a boy. “No. But Josie said she’d invited this record producer guy to scout them, which was really cool.” Jughead raised an eyebrow. “Hmm.” “So, I was just practising with Josie, kind of spur-of-the-moment. And actually it was really fun. This guy had already seen them play in rehearsal, and they were great – but this is the crazy part, he came back to get something and he was watching us play from the sidelines, we didn’t even see him. And he starts clapping, and he tells us we’re what he needs.” Archie laughed, exhilarated. “Wait, he needs you or Josie?” He asked, confused. There was an uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach. Archie looked puzzled. “Both of us. He wants to sign us as an act, Jug!” He said, sounding so thrilled. Not a mixture of fear or anything else. Just excited. He shook his head for a second, trying to clear his thoughts. “What about – what about the Pussycats?” Archie’s face fell. “I don’t – I don’t know. Are you really not happy for me? This is it, this is my dream, Jug.” He gulped, trying to sort out his feelings quickly. “It’s a dream you’ve had for like, two years. What if you decide something else is your dream?” Now Archie looked like a retriever who’d been kicked. “Why do you have to be so negative about everything? I get that you have reasons, but would it kill you to support me for once?” Jughead couldn’t stop his frustration bubbling up in his retort. “Why do you have to be so naive, then?” “Naive? How am I being naive?” Archie retorted indignantly. Jughead let out an exasperated huff. “A day ago this wasn’t even a possibility! What about school?” “Josie says since we’ve finished our finals, it doesn’t matter whether we stay or not. We’ll have done enough to graduate.” Jughead rubbed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. “What about college? We were gonna do all of that!” Now Archie looked sad, awkward – this fight had probably put them back to the awkward stage or worse but what did it matter at this point? He looks at Jughead, something desperate in his eyes. “So – come with us, Juggie! Los Angeles!” The use of his younger nickname is an unfair move, but it doesn’t sway him. “What?” He replies, both irritated and completely confused. “How – and what I am supposed to do there? Wait tables?” “No! You –“ Archie broke off, gesturing vaguely. “You’re just going to throw away any chance of being employed well in the actual real world for this? You don’t know anything about the industry! What’s your dad gonna say?” He knew he was leaning on this angle too hard; it wasn’t even what he meant. But they were supposed to go together, that was the plan, and saying that was a bit too pathetic. “I never wanted to go to college, Jug!” Archie burst out.”I know I’m the dumb friend, that’s ok. But what would I do in college, if we even got into the same one? Discuss literature? I’ve barely got a good GPA as it is!” Archie looked genuinely upset, his face and ears flushing red. But Jughead couldn’t stop feeling angry – Archie had always done this; he never meant to hurt people, he just didn’t think. He was sick of it. “Well you could’ve fooled me! At no point when we were filling out college applications did you say, ‘hey bud, you know I’m not sure why I’m doing this since I’m not really thinking of going, instead I’m going to move across the country on a whim! Just so you know!’” He returned, venomously. “Why are you acting like this is the end of the world? We can still be friends even if we’re not both in this shitty town for the rest of our lives, marrying the wrong people and living with all our regrets!” Jughead stopped walking.”Because it is! You think I’m going to be stuck here forever and you’re getting out. Really, even if this deal works out for you guys, are you going to want to talk to your small town friends when you get big? And since when are you so friendly with Josie anyway, she doesn’t even like you!” “That’s not true, we’ve been getting along pretty well recently. But I guess you wouldn’t know, because that was when you kept avoiding me!” Archie yelled. “Oh, I was avoiding you? You were avoiding me! I bet you’re glad to finally have an opportunity to finally be free of your weird best friend!” Jughead shot back, and instantly knew that it marked the end of the argument, and maybe their friendship. He felt sick. Archie looked at him, deeply hurt and angry, speechless. A few seconds passed before he said, “Is that what you want?” Jughead stared at him coldly, trying not to betray how sick he felt. “Joseph’s coming over soon to talk to my Dad about the offer. If it goes well, apparently it happens pretty quickly. I’ll be out of your hair soon.” Archie said mechanically, and walked off. The problem with living together is that they couldn’t not see each other entirely, but he took to sleeping on the couch in the garage, knowing he couldn’t move out but not wanting to stay. “Yeah well I guess you proved me wrong, didn’t you?” Jughead retorts.Archie gives him an exasperated look, and rakes a hand through his hair. “I didn’t do it to PROVE YOU WRONG!” He says, voice rising in volume.“YOU STILL DID IT!” He shouts back, and feels like it’s immediately too personal, like it was ripped from him without his permission.There’s a silence between them. Somehow they’re both standing apart from each other now, he almost doesn’t remember how he got from the couch playing games to here.“I –“ Archie begins, sounding both angry and hurt. “I – asked you to come. You were the one who – didn’t –“He scoffs, derisively. “As an afterthought! And then you left without saying a thing!” It’s good to know after ten years handling emotions like an adult, he’s immediately feeling eighteen and small and full of emotions that come bursting out at the worst times, again. Therapy has all been worth it.He can feel hot in his eyes, but damned if he’s going to lose it in front of his ex-best friend.Archie swallows. “That was shitty, ok – I’ve thought about it more than you’d ever think. But don’t make me into the villain, Jug, you acted like I was dead to you that whole time before I left!”Jughead gasps incredulously. “I acted like that? You acted like I was some ghost you could just look through! Because you were off on your big adventure where you were going to become so fucking famous, who cared about any of us back home, right? Gave you the perfect excuse to forget about us losers!”Archie shakes his head angrily. “Fucking hell, you haven’t changed one bit have you? You always have to go right for that jugular don’t you?”“Jugular? My, you’re learning some big SAT words these days!” He yells back. Awfully, he knows Archie’s right, but it’s like all of his anger and hurt over everything that happened that year and the distance of the next ten have coalesced into a sentient demon he’s being possessed by.Archie grabs his jacket from the couch, in a furious movement. “Fuck you, and whatever we’re supposed to be doing here. I don’t even know what I was thinking.”“Yeah, it was a stupid idea to think I could share a room with your even-more inflated ego!” He yells at Archie’s retreating back, sees his shoulders stiffen, knowing its hit the mark.He drops onto the couch, feeling a headache coming on. He feels sick too.His brain is a war of “that was a long time coming, he deserved to hear it!” and “what the fuck what is wrong with you?” and also, “I’m glad we – two nearly-thirty year old men – still fight like angry teenagers, that’s great.”He sighs, and wonders if he can call Betty. She might be too busy with the twins.He hesitates, then types a message to Kevin. Do you have time to talk? I could use a friend. Cheryl’s room is as nicely decorated as her living room, if not nicer. It’s a much softer look than her scary, imposing gothic horror of a bedroom in the mansion she grew up in.The queen bed is antique. It’s so soft.Josie doesn’t have a clue what the time is, or how long they’ve been lying here, but she doesn’t really care.Her phone is back in the living room anyway.“You are so beautiful.” She breathes, half unaware she’s saying anything at all.Unexpectedly, Cheryl blushes. She finds Josie’s hand under the blankets, and her hand is just as soft as Josie remembers. “You’re the face everyone remembers. Hard to forget.” She says softly, with a small, private small.Josie beams. She can’t stop looking at Cheryl, and her dimples and her hair splayed out onto the pillow, looking like the muse of some kind of Renaissance painting; like if she stops looking it will all disappear like a reverse Orpheus-and-Eurydice situation.She can’t help but let out a giggle at a thought that drifts across her mind.“What?” Cheryl asks.She shakes her head, grinning. “It’s nothing. It’s dumb.”“What?” Cheryl trills, beginning to giggle too.“I don’t want to get up. I just want to stay right here.” She says and giggles at how ridiculous it sounds. Cheryl smirks – her plan formulating smirk. “Do you have anything you have to do tonight?”“No, but –“ she begins, only half-heartedly protesting.Cheryl beams. “Then it’s settled. Stay here with me.”She giggles. “Just indefinitely, or?”“Yes. We’ll say we’re making a political statement like John and Yoko.” Cheryl smirks.“The day I take any inspiration from John Lennon is the day my soul dies.” Josie snarks, to Cheryl’s tinkling laugh.“Come here, darling.” Cheryl says, pulling her closer for a kiss. Hearing ‘darling’ from other girlfriends had always been weird for her, outdated, but somehow it suited Cheryl. Josie notices closer up that while her smile seems genuine there’s something sad in her eyes.“Is everything ok?” She asks, instantly nervous.Cheryl looks at her warmly, seemingly snapping out of a thought. “Of course. It’s not important,”“Come on, I told you mine!”Cheryl rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, and smiles. “Alright, fine. I – I was just thinking I don’t remember the last time somebody looked at me like that.” Her eyes are glistening a little as she finishes her sentence.“Oh.” She says softly. She takes Cheryl’s hand again. “I know what you mean.”Cheryl gets a look in her eye. “Ok we don’t have to do this –“Josie raises an eyebrow, but Cheryl continues. “But I’m curious about what your life’s been like since we broke up. I’m sure you’re wondering things about me.”“So what are you proposing?” She asks, bemused.“Nothing leaves this room. But we have to be honest in answering any questions.” Cheryl says, looking serious. No trace of her old smile she used to have when digging for gossip. “If you’re not ok with it though...’She thought about it. It really was the ultimate test if they trusted each other still. But she was warm, sleepy and happy so she found herself nodding.“I mean it though – if anything I tell you goes further than this room, I won’t forgive you.” She adds seriously, looking Cheryl in the eyes. Cheryl nods and finds her other hand to hold. “I swear.”“Ok...well I wanna know, what went wrong with that person you mentioned earlier?” She asks tentatively.Cheryl smiles ruefully, like she’s aware she’s done this to herself. “She was a client – not a wedding, just a party – she lived in New York. I think I loved her, even, and she loved me...” Cheryl sighs. “She thought I was emotionally unavailable, that I didn’t let her in enough. Which, she was right – but I did try. Just not enough.”“Sounds like all of my exes. I got “emotionally unavailable” a lot too, snap.” Josie replies, smiling empathetically.“Perfect for each other. That was kind of good to do, in a trial by fire kind of way.” Cheryl muses. “I wanna know about the actress. Why did you stop trying after her?”Josie grimaces. “Ok, I guess I’m doing this. I can’t tell you her name, that would be uncool as I’m pretty sure she’s not out. She was the least neurotic person I dated, and she was beautiful and funny and intelligent and I thought maybe this was it. This was the relationship.” She takes a breath.“She was friends with Archie, even – most of the others were threatened by him. But we moved around each other a lot, with me on tour or her promoting or filming, and we got tired. Suddenly I was mad that she wasn’t calling me enough, and she accused me of not relying on her emotionally as much as I did with Arch, when she was around. She started to get really cold towards him, and when we broke up she said that it didn’t matter how much we loved each other, because I didn’t have any more room in my life after him and the fans.” She scoffs, but she’s already choked up and it comes out weirdly.Cheryl kisses her forehead lightly. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to do anymore if -”Josie stops her. “No, you asked a question and I’m going to answer.” She smiles softly at Cheryl. “After her, I just –stopped. It – hurt – so much I never wanted to go through that again. Luckily I could just throw myself into my job, and that part of me was hidden away anyway. I wrote some songs about her, even though they didn’t sound like it. I got over it, mostly.”Cheryl looks like something has occurred to her, but she allows Josie to ask.“Do you ever want to leave?” Josie asks, unsure if she’s crossing a line.Cheryl looks at her, surprised for moment. “Sometimes. I love working here, actually. But we’re growing big enough to expand. I have thought about opening an office in NYC, because while I love the exclusiveness of making people come here, we’d be able to net even better business if we could meet clients in the city too.”Josie smiles slowly. It’s not like it’s an admission of love, but it’s reassuring, in a way.Cheryl looks at the ceiling, and then back at her. “Who did you write Looking Too Closely about?”Josie looks back at her. It was a song off the album before last, mellower than her usual type, they’d written the lyrics at 4am in a hotel room in Oslo when they couldn’t sleep. “Yes. It was you. I had this dream...I woke up in the middle of the night and I had to write it.”Cheryl nods, kind of proud. “I couldn’t get it out of my head. That one line – truth is like blood underneath your fingernails. I loved it.” “You’re not mad I wrote about you?” She asks, kind of surprised.“I think I’d be madder if I had never inspired you to write about me.” Cheryl says, smirking.Josie laughs.“Do you write about people a lot?” She asks. Josie allows it. She can’t think of another question.“I guess...sometimes. But it’s not always just bitter breakup songs. We just take inspiration from our lives sometimes, like people do.” She replies, looking up at the ceiling. She might take a nap soon, she’s so warm and sleepy here.“So you and Archie are pretty close, now?” Cheryl asks.She looks at Cheryl, and smiles. Thinks about it. “I never thought – even after we left – that we’d be friends. Certainly not this close, at this age. I thought I would have left him in my dust years ago, while I became the next Beyonce.”“You could’ve been though – I remember when you went solo. You were good.” Cheryl asks, a curious look on her face.She grins. “I know. I just remember thinking that I was 25 and I had everything I had worked for, and I could have continued doing that...but we’d been making music together for like six years, and I missed that so much more than I thought. We only really trusted each other, and somehow he became my closest friend.” She looks at Cheryl again. “Maybe you’re the only one who could understand – how lonely it is surrounded by all these people who want something from you, but none who actually care about you at all?”Cheryl nods melancholically. “I think I do.”“When we broke up the band, we didn’t talk for six months. It was like that, but I had no one to turn to then. It was so – fucking miserable. Maybe the loneliest I’ve ever been, while all this exciting stuff was happening.” She’s surprised to find her eyes watering over this¸ but her guard is down. She doesn’t think about it much either usually.“Wow,” Cheryl says softly. “I guess I can understand why you decided to put the band back together.”“Yeah,” She says mistily. “Anyway, my turn. How didn’t I realise that I missed you this much?”Cheryl giggles, very lightly. “Out of sight out of mind?”Josie giggles sleepily, and pulls her into a kiss.She can’t remember being so happy, so fulfilled in a long time. Maybe not even really since Natalie and she were together. She just wants to sleep now. Sleep in this warm bed with a beautiful girl she never really stopped loving, and deal with everything else later.Cheryl watches her with such affection it almost hurts to look directly at her.“I think I’m about to fall asleep, just a warning.” She says across the pillow.“No, stay awake with me. I want to keep looking at you, and if you fall asleep it’s gonna be way creepier.” Cheryl says, with a soft laugh in her voice.“Ok, for you, creepy.” Josie replies, smirking.They lie in silence for a while, looking at each other. Sluggishly, she notices a familiar look on Cheryl’s face. One of her internal battles coming to the surface. She looks like she’s struggling with something, maybe one more question to ask.“No more!” She says playfully.Cheryl smiles affectionately at her.She reaches out a hand to stroke her face at the same time Cheryl gently asks, “So then, have you and Archie and you ever slept together?”She recoils immediately – feeling like someone’s dumped an bucket of ice-water on her to wake her up. “What?” she says, sitting up.Cheryl sits up, looking anxious. “Did you? It’s not a big deal, no judgement, I just –“ She reaches out and Josie recoils, and the hurt is evident immediately in her eyes.Josie feels sick. It’s like a magic trick that she can have felt so safe, so happy two minutes earlier, and now she feels uncomfortably naked and nauseous.“You just what? Out of all, people I thought you would get it. Fuck, you would think the last few hours would – I can’t believe you’re asking me this!” She interrupts furiously, getting up off the bed and dragging the sheet with her. She wouldn’t have bothered with it before but she doesn’t want to be naked right now any longer. “Josie, don’t!” Cheryl calls, voice shaking. “That was our deal – honesty! Just say no, and I’ll believe you!”“Oh, you’ll believe me?” She spits, pulling her dress on. She can’t find her bra, but as far as she’s concerned it’ll have to stay here forever. “You’ll kindly agree to believe I’ve never had sex with my friend I have no sexual attraction to?”“Did you?” Cheryl replies sharply. “You could have just said no, Josie!”She is almost speechless at this, as she pulls on her boots. “I refuse to play this game, Cheryl! You know who I am, you’ve known since we were fifteen! I can take this bullshit from the media, but you...” Her voice wavers.“Why can’t you just give me an answer? Why are you making this into a big deal?” Cheryl continues shrilly, looking wild and desperate.She can go as soon as she finds her phone. She storms out into the living room, hearing Cheryl scramble for her robe and follow her.“Are you just going to leave then?” Cheryl asks, frantically . “Come on, Josie, please-“She turns to Cheryl, who looks devastated. “Why is it so important to you?” She interrupts, with a shaking voice.“Do you really not get why?” She retorts, with shining eyes. “Or is this just a stopover for you?”She gasps. “Are you really that insecure?”Cheryl looks stricken, and she narrows her eyes in anger. “Why are you so defensive, Josie? All I wanted was for us to be honest with each other! And now we’re fighting, and if it’s so ridiculous and unthinkable, why can’t you just FUCKING ANSWER ME!”“BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW, OK?” she explodes, and she can’t hold in her tears any longer. Though blurry, Cheryl looks shocked and confused.“You know, I thought different, but you haven’t changed at all! You have to niggle, and niggle at people until you know the very worst thing, and who cares what lives you ruin and who you make feel so small and humiliated because of it.” she’s quaking with anger now, wishing she’d never come here this afternoon, wishing she’d never come back to town at all.“Did he...do something?” Cheryl asks in a very small, scared voice.“No, he didn’t!” she snaps back. “You don’t get to talk, ok! You want the truth? Let me tell you what you just had to fucking know, even when you knew I didn’t want to talk about it. Let me tell you about the worst fucking moment in my life, and one of the worst of his too, for that matter!”Cheryl looks miserable, almost afraid, but if it’s the truth she wants then it’s the whole, horrible story she’s gonna get.“Imagine you’re eighteen, and you’re making your name in an industry that isn’t ready for you to be yourself, and your only friend is a boy you’re not even sure you like. Then imagine you actually get along with them, and it’s nice to think you have a friend when you’ve lost all your others, but of course everyone has to think you must be dating, or fucking, or something, right? And it’s laughable, because you’re so definitely not. It’s kind of funny, at first. But it just continues, for fucking years. And you think it’s not affecting you that much, but it ruins EVERY SINGLE FUCKING RELATIONSHIP you ever try to have. How are you supposed to keep love alive when you’re pretending to everyone else it doesn’t exist?”She pauses for breath, and wishes she could stop the constant stream of silent tears falling down her face.Cheryl looks remorseful, but doesn’t attempt to interrupt, surprisingly.“And it just gets so you pretend you don’t need a relationship, because it’s easier. And worse, it’s not just you. It’s both of you, holding each other up, trying not to drown. It works for a while, and then by some fucking miracle, you’re both suddenly in relationships! And they feel different, they feel like the ones that might actually stick.”She realises at this point that she can’t accurately explain the story without telling some of Archie’s truths, and it feels like someone is squeezing her heart. How, when she has to finish it now, she’s so angry and this is the first time she’s told someone else about it. She has a brief flash of Natalie, of Adam, of them hanging out together at the apartment. You seem so – comfortable, I guess ... I feel like I am? Before it had gone to shit, they’d been like – grown up couple-friends. It’s a memory she looks back on bitterly now, because it was just playing house. It was childish to think they could sustain all of their egos, all four careers and lives when the rest of the world also cared.She swallows, against the lump that’s risen in her throat. “It doesn’t really matter why, but that – short, happy time – that was the most subversive thing we’d done in years. But of course, we couldn’t keep it – not when we belonged to fucking everyone else! And so it ends, and this time it’s different. We can’t pretend we don’t care anymore when we both saw what a lie that was. Our one goddamn defence is gone.”Cheryl looks so pale, and dismayed, like she wants to say something, do something comforting but she doesn’t know how. Josie hadn’t realised how much of this she wanted to say, and can already feel her anger slipping away into an oncoming storm of grief. She wants so much to leave but she’s trapped there, and she wants to trap Cheryl, too with her words. Wants her to feel the pain that comes with knowing the truth at any cost.“ And we find ourselves out with these other people we call friends – someone’s 22nd , I think they’d come to mine a few months earler? They liked to party, and we just wanted so badly to forget. Careful what you fucking wish for.” She says this venomously, wondering why Cheryl hasn’t attempted to throw her out or stop her but she seems to be morbidly enthralled, a forgotten look of shock on her face.She doesn’t know how many drinks, how many pills it was. Too many. The information is lost, it never really came back to bite her, strangely. Maybe it had already used its sting.Telling this story is doing nothing good for her nausea, but it’s like she can’t stop. It flows out of her like scalding water from a broken tap.“You wanted the truth, babe?” Cheryl looks drained, but it almost seems like she blanches a little more at this. Josie feels all the hurt and righteous fury boil in her veins, bubbling up into her speech. “The truth is that I woke up, feeling like shit, in a bed with my friend and without my clothes. The truth is that I had no memory of the night, and neither of us will ever know what really happened. The truth is that you, and everyone else’s bullshit, hetero-fucking-normative ideas about us, clearly fucked me up even more than I thought and almost managed to ruin the one good friendship I had left.” The memory of it all, after so long, has her shaking with anger, crying, venom punctuating each word.“So thank-you, for bringing that trauma back up. I hope you got a lot out of it.” she says finally, and it’s like the words unfreeze Cheryl.“Josie, I-“she says, and Josie’s heart breaks a little more for how broken-down she sounds. “I’m so -“Cheryl reaches out a tentative hand, hesitating, but Josie recoils, and leaves in silence.Archie needs a drink. He doesn’t want to go back to his dad’s place yet, and act like everything is fine. Or worse, tell them about the fight. It would seem so childish to them, but it didn’t feel like they could fix this one. They tried, and they just made it worse.He really needs a drink. Before he left, they were all doing most of their drinking at parties, not bars. He knew there was a seedy old local, but he didn’t know if it was even still in business. It was pretty scuzzy though, he’d like to avoid it if possible. As he wanders down the street, he sees a low-light neon sign up ahead.By some miracle, a bar. A fairly new looking one too, trendier for a small town than he’d expected. The sign is illuminated, but on a less bright setting, like it’s not desperate for customers. The sign says Magnificient. I’ll be the judge of that, sign he thinks.Walking on, he recognises an old favourite Two Door Cinema Club song playing in the background. He can’t help doing that – side effect of being immersed in different music for the last decade. You don’t need to know what everybody’s thinking The bartender has his back to the bar when he drops onto a stool. There isn’t another person on, it seems, and the bar is reasonably filled but not busy.“Could I get a rum and coke?” He asks, rubbing his eyes.“Be right with you – oh my god, bro!” The bartender says, in an oddly familiar voice.He looks up to see the bartender is none other than Reggie Mantle, grinning widely.He laughs in surprise. “Reggie!” He sees the bar name again, and something occurs to him. “Wait – this isn’t –““My bar? Yep.” Reggie answers proudly.“Holy shit, man! That’s...very cool.” He says, grinning.Reggie laughs. “You haven’t done too badly...What the hell are you doing here?”He shakes his head. “I – really don’t know.” Reggie raises an eyebrow. “Josie and I are coming to the reunion on Saturday.”“Why? It’s hardly going to be the event of the year.” Reggie says derisively.“Are you going?” He asks.Reggie makes a disgruntled noise. “Cheryl said I could only supply the drinks if I came. She has not calmed down, if you were wondering.”Archie grins. “Yeah, I ran into her when I got to town, actually. She was actually nice, you know, for her.”Reggie nods. “Yeah, she’s not so bad. Single-minded to a fault, though, as my dad would say.”“Yep.”Reggie seems to remember that there’s a reason for this sudden visit, and grabs a clean glass. “Rum and coke, right?” Archie nods.“I still can’t believe you’re here. I haven’t seen you in what, a decade? Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” Reggie shakes his head in disbelief as he makes the drink, grinning.“I can’t really believe it either. It’s weird, like, it’s the same and yet there’s so much I don’t recognise. Things moving on, anyway.” He muses, taking the drink Reggie hands to him.“Yeah, it seems a lot slower when you’re in the middle of it.” Reggie counters.Archie grins. “I suppose.”“You know I would’ve recognised that hair anywhere,” Archie snickers at this. “But I gotta say, it’s not like I haven’t seen pictures of you over the years, but this – not what I expected you’d look like at this age. Least not what I expected in school.” Reggie says appraisingly.“What did you expect then?” He asks, with ironic humour.Reggie smirks. “I don’t know – probably some clean shaven, button-up shirt and tie worker, married to someone like Betty. Certainly no tattoos. If I remember, you didn’t even like the flu shot in fourth grade.”He laughs, indignant. “That was one time! I can’t believe I’ve heard that more than once this week. Am I not allowed to change?”Reggie laughs. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing! The tattoos work, actually. When did you start?”He sighs, grinning. “Uh, I guess I got my first one at... nineteen?” He thinks about it. “Fuck, that makes me feel old.”Reggie raises an eyebrow, smirking. “You’ve ch-““If you’re about to say something about you remembering me not swearing in the past, just know like three people have already told me this.” he interrupts, long-sufferingly.Reggie raises his hands, in mock-surrender. “Point taken.”Someone approaches the bar to signal to Reggie. He gives them a nod, and looks back at Archie. “I gotta keep serving, but if you’re happy to chill for about another hour, we can catch up if you want. I close early Wednesday anyway.”“Yeah, that’d be great.” He says, with a smile. Reggie nods, grinning, and goes to serve the customer.“No fucking way!” Archie laughs.Reggie holds up his hands in defense, laughing. “I swear by all that is holy, her name is Fawn!”Archie cracks up.“I can’t believe Moose is married, though.” He says, wiping his eyes.Reggie nods. “Fuck, I know right? When did we all reach the “married” age?”The bar is empty now. He’d gotten some looks from patrons, but if they knew who he was they had probably already heard he was in town, and were adult enough not to bother him. He’d helped put the chairs away, helped with the all the small tasks that closing apparently entailed. It was almost like looking into an alternate universe, a look at a job he might have done if he’d never gotten that record deal.They were sitting in a booth, several rum-and-cokes deep into catching up. This was so much less stressful. No awkward undercurrent, no carefully having to choose your words, no truly bad memories, no guilt. This was better, anyway.“God, I know. I swear two seconds ago I had just turned twenty, and now I know people with kids. That they had at a reasonable age.” Archie replies.Reggie grimaces. “Can’t imagine that. I’m too self-interested to even think about looking after a kid.”Archie laughs. “Well at least you’re self-aware. I know too many people who really aren’t. And they have kids.”“Had them because it seemed like a fun idea but not mature or selfless enough to care about their child enough to be a good parent?” Reggie guesses, smirking. “I might not be selfless, but I’m not thinking about bringing a dependent human into my life, either. Christ.”“You’re telling me.” Archie takes a big sip of his drink. “Kinda freaks me out that by this age, my dad already had an infant to look after. No relationship I’ve ever had has lasted long enough where I’ve ever thought of bringing a child into the world. I wouldn’t have a clue, and he had a family and a business to look after.”Reggie looks surprisingly pensive on the subject. “I think my dad was only a year older when I was born. And he had the pharmacy to look after. I can’t even fuckin’ imagine it.”Archie remembers Mr. Mantle vaguely, as kindly, hardworking man who always came to their football games with his wife, a pretty South Asian woman (Indonesian, maybe, he identifies in hindsight), and how proud they always looked of their son. “Is he still running the pharmacy? I remember you were thinking of doing a degree in something like that, or you used to...” Archie asks.Reggie sighs. “Yeah that was the plan. I went to college, in-state, and I did a business degree and then I was going to follow it up with studying pharmacology.” He pauses, stumbling over the word. Archie grins, and he grins too, sheepishly.“And to pay for it, or at least earn my tuition, I was working for my dad in the pharmacy. And I just hated it. I mean, I liked working for my dad, and I liked talking to customers, but I was just so fuckin’ bored.”“What did you do?” Archie asks, interested. “Is that is when you left?”Reggie shakes his head slowly. “How could I? You’ve met my parents...they tried to give me every advantage they could, to set me up, to make me happy. How could I do that to my dad, who needed the help, and we’d always agreed on me coming to work for him?”Archie feels a pang of guilt that he buries in taking another drink.Reggie notices, anyway. “Relax, I’m not judging. You had your path, and your Dad was proud of you doing it.”Archie nods. “So what did you do?”Reggie half-laughs. “Nothing. I tried to accept that this was what I was doing, but I hated my course, and I was so bored. I just tried to accept that this was my life from here on out.”“Shit.”Reggie takes a drink. “Yeah. Then around mid-semester break, my Dad sits me down. I have no clue what he wants to talk about – and he says to me,” Reggie is smiling, but there’s also some deep emotion glinting in his eye at the memory. “He says, Reggie, I’m worried about you. And I try to reassure him I’m fine, and he says to me, You’ve become so withdrawn. Are you unhappy? Did someone I’m not aware of break your heart?” Reggie chuckles at this. “I say, No Dad, I’m fine. And then he says, I think working at the pharmacy is making you unhappy. And as much I love working with my son, I’d never want you to be miserable because of it. And finally, I say, but you’ve done all this so I can work with you. I want to repay that.” Reggie pauses, looks away, looks back. “He fuckin’ says, I didn’t do that for me, I did that for you. So what do you wanna do?” “Damn, that’s...really good of him.” He says, well aware there’s a better word, more encompassing of such a gesture, but he can’t think of it.Reggie nods emphatically. “I never even thought of it that way. He’s such a good guy, when I worked out I wanted to own a bar, he helped me get a loan. He’s got another guy helping him now, but I’m paying off the money he spent on the course before I dropped it.”Archie takes a drink, thinking. “I’m so fucking...grateful to my Dad. Even if he wasn’t perfect, he cared so damn much. He sacrificed so much, like your dad. That’s what I mean, I don’t think I could live up to that standard, if I had my own kid.”Reggie gestures vaguely at the drinks board where the name of the bar is written at the top. “Did you know my Dad’s Dad came to America and changed his last name to something he thought sounded more Western, something he thought sounded like strength and respect?”“I didn’t. That’s cool though...Guess I never thought about you being anything else but a Mantle?” Archie replies, somehow surprised. He had always known Mantle wasn’t a typically Chinese last name, but both he and his best friend, and his best friend’s sister had grown up with weird, alliterative names anyway so he hadn’t thought to question it.Reggie grins, almost triumphantly. “I didn’t even realise that till I was what, seventeen? I guess my grandad died before I was born, and my Dad didn’t talk about him with me except to tell me I was named after him. I’m the second generation of my name, and even if I’m the last – this bar is my legacy.”“Magnificient. Oh I get it.” Archie says, and Reggie starts laughing. He joins in.“So, tell me about what you’re up to. What’s your life been like, I gotta know, dude.” Reggie asks when they stop laughing.Archie sighs, still half-laughing. “It’s not as exciting as you think.”Reggie narrows his eyes. “Fuck off, I want stories!”He laughs. “Ok, fair. We’re kind of in a break before we have to do more shows – we just recently finished up the World Tour of our last album, and we’re just taking a bit of a breather before we start thinking of ideas for our next one.”Reggie grins. “I heard it, I liked it.”Archie smirks. “Did you buy my album, Reggie?”Reggie rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Gotta keep the people happy. Anyway, I believe I asked for stories, bro!” He says, slapping the table.Archie laughs. “What do you want to hear about?”Reggie grins. “Uh, hmm, where’s your favourite place in the world? Have you dated any models? Have you met Rihanna? Have you dated Rihanna?”Archie laughs again, leans back into the soft cushion of the booth. “Damn, Reg! This is a comfy fucking seat.” Reggie laughs. “One, hard to choose, but we spent a year living in London recording the last album, and visiting all the European countries near England, and that was pretty amazing. I’d love to live somewhere around there again someday?” He ticks off on his fingers. “Two, yes, but mostly I don’t date models, you can’t both be flaky.” Reggie snickers. “Three, yes, a few times. I don’t even know what to say, she’s so cool. And, four, god I wish but also not because I’m not worthy of her, she’s on a whole other level.”It feels comfortably juvenile to talk like this – not like he doesn’t find her insanely attractive, but honestly the thought didn’t actually ever occur to him. It makes him uncomfortable to think about it, and that’s not the story Reggie wants to hear, so it’s much easier to answer how he might have when he was much younger.He likes being around Reggie, it reminds of the easier parts of high school – football, popularity, feeling like a normal kid rather than a dumb kid with all these secrets and uncool feelings.“So, do you date? I guess you’re away from home for long periods of time.” Reggie asks, leaning back with his drink.Archie looks at him with a half-smile. “Not if I can help it. I tend to fuck it up...comes with moving around a lot.” This isn’t strictly the only reason, but Reggie doesn’t want to hear about his inability to let people in. It’s not very badass, not very rockstar.Reggie watches him, appraisingly. “Then I really don’t have an excuse. But I’m not usually trying to date people. Is that bad? We’re not even thirty yet...I feel like small town people end up getting married young just for something to do, for fuck’s sake.”Archie laughs, sardonically. Trying to remember how many drinks he’s had, realising he doesn’t care. “Right? Fuck...I think my parents only stayed together as long as they did because they had a kid. But she didn’t want to be stuck here, and I don’t think he ever got over Hermione. You’re doing fine.”Reggie huffs a laugh, and Archie can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Thanks, man... It’s really good to see you.”“It’s good to see you too, dude.” He says, drunk but genuine.They’ve somehow ended up basically on the same side of the booth, even though he’s sure they didn’t get in this way. That was ages ago, he has no idea what time it is now. Late.“I like your hair.” he says, vaguely motioning to Reggie’s face.Reggie laughs. “I wasn’t sure about the shavey-bit but I don’t mind it so much now.”Archie shakes his head. “No, no it looks great. You gotta keep it! The ladies’ll love it.” He says the last bit half-ironically.Reggie gives him a funny look. “Thanks. I like your,” He gestures vaguely at Archie’s arms. “Whole thing.”Reggie hasn’t turned off the bar, playlist, just turned it down. He recognises the song as something Veronica had played once for him. So have you got the guts “Thanks,” He gets out, throat feeling dry. I don’t know if you feel the same as I do, but we could be together if you wanted to “Good song.” He says croakily. They’re very close. He’s not sure he minds.“Great.” Reggie whispers and leans a little bit further forward and kisses him.It’s a good kiss, so he’s surprised when Reggie pulls back.“Sorry, I should’ve ask-“ Reggie starts.“That’s really sweet, but shh.” Archie whispers, and kisses him back.“I feel like I should mention I live upstairs.” Reggie says,Archie nods, smirking, and pulls him into another kiss.“I feel like I should mention that I’m not really in a place for anything serious, just so you know.” He adds, feeling like it’s the right thing to do, even with someone like Reggie.Reggie gasps, mock-hurt. “Does that mean you’re not gonna take me to prom, Andrews?” He whispers.“Shut up, Mantle.” He says, and does it for him. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Not sure if I should, show you what I’ve found, has it gone for good or is it coming back around? – “Fireside”, Arctic Monkeys Archie inhales smoke and holds it for a beat, watching the end glow in the early-morning gloom. He’d once written something like “a warm blanket for your lungs” to describe the feeling. At first it’s just like a hot breath of chemicals, but it’s like nothing else when you get used to it. He’d started just because someone had offered, some record label person at a party, and he didn’t want to look childish so he accepted one. They’d had to teach him, lucky it was just them on the balcony, because no one looks cool when learning to smoke. Sometimes he wonders if he picked it up simply to look ‘cool’, but he hopes not. He can’t remember now. He exhales, pushing smoke out of his mouth and nostrils. “Do they teach you how to look sexy and dangerous while smoking in Hollywood, or is it just something you have to learn by osmosis?” Reggie drawls, smiling lazily, a cigarette of his own in his hand. Archie smirks. “Yeah, it’s like a three day course when you get there. They put you in a room with all the young TV people and new musicians and stuff. It’s pricey, but it’s worth it.” Reggie laughs. “They clearly gave you a sense of humour there, too. I thought I’d never see the day-“ Archie swats at him, not deliberately aiming. “Apparently no one thinks I was funny, then? Do people just not remember me laughing at anything?” Reggie shakes his head, grinning. “No, probably more that you were too pretty to have to compensate.” “So, you were fine then?” He digs, smirking. “Excuse you, I was definitely fine then. I still am.” He says in a familiarly smug tone. Archie laughs. They lapse into comfortable silence. Inhaling. Exhaling. Two red-hot glints in the gloom. “So you thought I was pretty?” Archie says, mostly teasing. Reggie lets out a crackly laugh. “Uh...I had such a stupid crush on you, man.” Archie is, inexplicably considering where they are currently, surprised. He turns on his side to look at Reggie. “What? When?” Reggie looks at him disbelievingly. “Seriously, you’re surprised?” “I was a pretty oblivious teenager, in my defence.” He replies. Reggie laughs, crackly-voiced, again. “That’s true. None of sophomore year coming back to you?” “Really?” “Really?” Reggie mirrors. “You got surprisingly hot over the summer? I kept finding ways to touch your arms in a bro-y way?” Archie squints at him, then lies back with a laugh. “I only joined the football team the year before, I thought that was normal bro-type behaviour!” Reggie laughs, looking at him. “The perfect cover. You knew us before that, though?” Archie makes a face. “Yeah, but it’s not like I was friends with you guys. It’s not like I was bro-y with J-“ He trails off, taking a determined drag of his nearly finished cigarette. Reggie gives him a moment, then says in a surprisingly non-mocking tone, “Ah. So is that why you looked like you needed a drink so bad last night?” Archie sighs, and stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on the bedside table next to him. “I –“ He looks at Reggie, frustrated but not at him. “I was stupid to think that we could be alright around each other. It’s been ten years, we were kidding ourselves, acting like we’re the same as we were before.” Reggie nods thoughtfully. “I mean, it’s easier to revert to that kind of thing than you think – look at us most of last night, bro-ing out, talking about girls, just like we used to and I haven’t seen you in the same amount of time?” Archie scratches his beard growth and smiles. “Yeah, and then you kissed me. We’re not the same as we were either.” Reggie smiles widely. “Ok fair enough...but as I was just saying it’s not like that wasn’t there before. We were just either too oblivious or too embarrassed to do anything.” He leans into kiss Reggie again. “That’s why you never did anything about it?” Reggie raises his eyebrows. “You couldn’t even figure out which girl you wanted, let alone anything else...” He smiles ruefully. “Ok I take your point.” His smile fades as he thinks about it. “God, I need another cigarette.” He says, mainly to himself. “Do you mind?” Reggie shakes his head. They haven’t slept yet, so he can feel the hangover coming but it’s not crashing in on him yet. He mostly sleeps (and often doesn’t stay long enough to sleep) with people he doesn’t, and will never get to know now – but he’s strangely enjoying being this close with someone familiar. A weird mix of excitement at the newness of what they’re doing with each other and comfort with the old familiarity. He twists around to grab his cigarette from the packet on the table. Earlier, he’d lain back, panting, gasping for one and for a horrified moment he’d thought he’d left them at home. But no, thankfully, they had been in the pocket of his jeans. He hears Reggie’s soft intake of breath, and he smiles as he lights up. Reggie reaches out a hand and brushes a tattoo on his bicep, and trails down to one on his chest, tracing it. It’s not the first time tonight he’s done it, but he still gets a nice shiver anyway. “I don’t need to know,” Reggie begins, quiet-voiced, still entranced by the tattoo. “But what happened between you guys? You were fine all senior year and then it’s like he couldn’t even talk about you after you left.” He takes a long drag of the cigarette, exhales and puts it down on the ashtray. “No big mystery,” he says ruefully. “We had a pretty bad fight a few days before I left, and neither of us apologised. Then I left.” Reggie sucks in a breath. “Yeah, I figured as much." Archie looks at him as something occurs to him. “I didn’t know you guys talked. At all. Or about me?” Reggie looks unfazed, and looks back. “Yeah, we still do...We’re friendly. We were then?” Archie feels greatly confused, which is not new for him, but in a way that makes him feel like a teenager without a big piece of the puzzle again. “Hold up, when? I don’t remember you guys being friendly, ever.” Reggie squints at him quizzically. “I mean, you wouldn’t have. We weren’t hang-out-at-the-same-table friendly, but you had to have noticed we were giving each other less shit senior year?” He thinks about it. Now he does, he realises he can’t remember anything but snarky comments between them, but with nowhere near the venom in them they had previously. Of course he’d somehow missed this shift, as well. “I..guess, yeah.” He says slowly. He shakes his head. “As good as we were that year, I feel like there was a lot I didn’t - know going on. And I tried to ask, I was trying to not to be oblivious, but he always shrugged it off.” He catches Reggie’s expression slip slightly, a flash of something uncomfortable, before it settles again into a smile. He narrows his eyes slightly. “You know something, about it.” Reggie laughs. “It was a long time ago. I don’t know what you want to hear?” He feels a pang of guilt. “Please, Reg. I need to know if you know something – we had this other fight, about the last fight and maybe if I know what was going on with him that year I’ll know what caused the first one...” He trails off, feeling kind of desperate. Of course, a part of him knows the road trip contributed to it – but they figured that out, that wasn’t it. There had to have been something else, some bigger thing to make him react like their friendship was ending. Reggie sighs. “I’m not saying I even know anything, but if I did, maybe it’s not to do with you, Arch?” Archie picks up his discarded cigarette and takes a few quick drags. Thinking about it is stressing him out, but he can’t seem to drop it yet either. He looks at Reggie. “I know. I shouldn’t care, and it’s not my business – but he was like, randomly disappearing for like two months, and sneaking back in. He wouldn’t ever say where he’d been. I’ve been there, what if he was in trouble, and I didn’t, again –“ He breaks off, swallowing, looking away. He smokes silently. Reggie looks at him, looking very conflicted. “I don’t think I should tell you his secrets, is all.” He shakes his head. “No, I know.” He can feel himself pressing his thumbnail sharply, worrying at the skin around his other nails again. Josie would tell him to stop. “Did someone hurt him?” Reggie looks at him and sighs deeply. “Ok, I’m only doing this because you’re so freaked out, and I shouldn’t, so just...don’t worry. He wasn’t in danger, or being hurt by anyone. He was meeting me, around that time. No biggie.” Archie raises an eyebrow. “Meeting you? For what?” Reggie raises two sceptical eyebrows back. The other shoe drops. “Oh. Right. That’s why he wouldn’t tell me.” Predictably, getting the truth hadn’t actually made him feel any better or less confused. He sits and digests the information. “Both my best friends, Reggie? Fuck.” He says, less annoyed than he is just baffled. Reggie grins weakly, watching him. “I never hooked up with Veronica. Bro code, man.” He laughs weakly. “Did Betty know? I mean, you both...” “We weren’t planning on telling her, exactly, but she found out. She was much more chill about it than I thought she’d be though, considering. I think she was dealing with some other stuff at the time, so...” Reggie says knowingly. He nods. “You mean Veronica? How did you know?” Reggie looks surprised. “They told you? I didn’t expect that. I found out accidentally when I caught them making out in Keller’s bedroom during that party he had when his dad went out of town, which was pretty awkward.” “Did you say something gross?” Archie jokes half-heartedly. Again, he’s feeling like the last one to know about all of this, even though he already knew about that particular relationship. Reggie looks mock-offended. “I may have wanted to, but I had the sense not to. Also, it’s more of a downer to do that when one is your ex.” “Yeah.” Archie half-laughs. “No, they ended up telling me around the end of semester when they’d only been together a few weeks. That was a weird moment of déjà-vu.” Reggie laughs. “Guess I missed more than I thought.” He can’t keep a little bitterness out of his voice. “Are you feeling weird about that or what I told you?” Reggie asks shrewdly. He turns to look at Reggie. “Why would I? I just – needed a minute to process. I can’t say I expected it.” Reggie looks like he’s choosing to accept this. “Alright.” “Enough talking.” Archie says and leans over to kiss him again. Archie’s phone buzzes loudly at 9:15, waking him up abruptly. He shoots an arm out, blindly scrabbling for it, thinking it’s an alarm. He looks at the screen, realising it was an incoming text. Hey, still happy to come over at 10? I’m at 4/555 Jackson Ave now, can’t remember if I told you yet. – B. “Fuck!” He says, louder than he meant. Reggie gives a sleepy grumble in response. His head feels like it’s full of fire-ants. He pulls Reggie’s surprisingly heavy, muscular arm off him and begins to hunt for clothes. Betty and him had texted a few times yesterday making concrete plans, but the fight had driven everything from his mind, and then he’d become otherwise distracted. He pulls on his own pair of boxer-briefs, and realises he smells like alcohol and smoke. Which would be very rockstar-ish, but he doesn’t want to meet Betty and her niece and nephew smelling like he’s just been on a weeklong bender. Reggie stretches, having been woken seemingly when Archie moved his arm. “Wow, guessing you’re really not a cuddler then?” He drawls. Archie takes a second from looking for his jeans to smile at him. “Usually, actually, but I’m sorry I completely blanked that I made plans with Betty in like forty-five minutes. Do you think I could use your shower though? She’s looking after Polly’s kids, I don’t want to freak them out by smelling like I passed out in a distillery that was burning down.” Reggie smirks. “Sure, it’s just through that door.” He says, indicating. “Shame though, I don’t have to open for hours.” Archie smirks back at him. “I know, of all the luck. Also, do you have any aspirin?” Reggie smiles empathetically, looking like he could use one too. “Yeah, in the mirror cabinet, top shelf.” “You’re a life-saver, Reggie.” He calls from the bathroom, praying that he can pull it together enough before ten. * Betty checks her phone. 10:05 am. He’s only a few minutes late, and she can’t imagine he wouldn’t show up without at least texting an excuse. At the same she didn’t end up telling Ophelia and Charlton that he might be coming around, which was probably unfair. But if he didn’t show up, she would have disappointed them for no reason, and she would never want to do that. How much was she really supposed to rely on an ex-best friend she hadn’t talked to in pretty much a decade? Then she hears a knock at the door, and she instantly feels better. She opens the door on Archie, looking like he’d run there. “Hey, are you ok?” She asks, bemused. He half-laughs, panting. “I’m sorry I’m late. I don’t have a car.” “No that’s fine. Weren’t you wearing that yesterday?” She says with a small grin. “Was I?” He asks, feigning innocence. “Come here.” It’s nice to be able hug him again. He smells like soap, and little like smoke. “You smoke now? Is that an L.A thing or a celebrity thing?” She teases, leading him inside. “Like a chimney, and honestly, I can’t tell the difference sometimes.” She laughs lightly. She remembers a brief phase of social smoking through college, but she’d never really picked it up. Looking around, she realises how small it must seem. It’s two-bedroom, and it’s a reasonable rent, and she thinks she’s decorated it nicely. And she cleaned the day before, so it’s not depressingly messy. To him though? Her apartment might be a quarter of the size of what he’s become used to. Not that he used to care about that sort of thing, but maybe he’s changed. “It’s not big, but I like it. Better than having to live with my parents.” Betty says, grimacing. “It’s really nice.” Archie replies, sounding genuinely happy about it. “Thanks, Arch. I try.” She’s touched, surprised for some reason he hasn’t lost that quality. They stand around in silence for a moment. He looks more tired than yesterday, and his hair’s a bit messier. She doubts he’s been back to wherever he’s staying since then. “So, you look like you could use a coffee. I’m putting a pot on, so?” His tired face lights up at this. “God, please and thank-you.” He says gratefully. She grins, and leads him into the kitchen. She’s wondering whether to ask him about it. He might not want to say anything about it, but she is too curious to not at least ask. Inquisitiveness was in her nature, and literally part of her job, so she can’t really help it. Does she want to know, though? Is it even likely? The fact that she can’t answer these questions, frustratingly only makes her more curious. He watches her put on the coffee, smiling. “Good night?” She asks, tentatively, waiting for the kettle to boil. He looks somewhat sheepish, although he’s not blushing as easily as he used to. “Big night.” He says enigmatically. “Did it include that hickey poking out of your collar? That’s very highschool of you, by the way.” She says innocently, stirring the coffee. “Do you take sugar?” He looks down immediately for it, and shakes his head.”Yes. Nothing gets past you, Nancy Drew.” She grins, stirring his coffee and handing it to him. “Well it is my job.” He takes a sip and closes his eyes blissfully. “Coffee. Thankyou.” Betty brings him back to the living room, and sets her mug on the coffee table, sitting down on the couch. “So, do I need to be worried?” She means it mostly teasingly, but if she’s right she also seriously means it. But it’s a very loose hypothesis. Quite a leap to make, which is why she’s not going to ask point-blank. He grins. “No. You don’t have to look after me." She takes a sip of coffee. “So, did you and Jug have a good lunch? He didn’t come back after so I assumed you might still...” She trails off at his darkening expression and her stomach drops. Her theory was probably wrong then, and she’s not sure if that makes her more or less worried. “Oh no, what happened?” She asks, trying not to sound disappointed in them. It hadn’t even been what three days? He looks like a mixture of emotions are fighting to take precedence – hurt, regret, guilt, anger, sorrow, then his face settles into a bitter expression. “We actually had a great day. Lunch was fun, and we decided to hang out more and Jug took the rest of the day off. We played video games, and we were getting along fine.” He says, quietly frustrated. “And then?” She asks, apprehensively, bracing herself. “And then it all went to hell. I don’t even know how. It just became a fight about the last fight.” He sighs, and looks at her. “I’m sorry, Betty. I know you probably want to hurt me right now, but I swear it wasn’t all my fault.” She shakes her head. “I’m not mad at you, Arch. I was happy that you were getting along, but honestly I expected this to happen.”And she had – not that she’d wanted to mention it to Jughead when he looked like he was actually enjoying having his ex-bestie back in town. But she knew them, she had known both of them almost her whole life. They couldn’t go that long when some problem was under the surface, waiting to boil over into a fight. But unlike their childhood fights, they couldn’t solve this by not talking to each other for a day, and then making up by buying each other burgers or milkshakes. Archie looks miserable, but unsurprised. “It was stupid, I almost started thinking we might – be able to just be friends again.” Betty pats him sympathetically. “Look, as horrible as it was I’m sure, you can’t just ignore what’s wrong. You guys have never been able to do that, ever. Not for long.” He doesn’t say anything but drinks from his coffee, looking wistful. “I know every time you both act like it’s unsalvageable, and maybe this time it really is. But I think you should at least try to make it up?” She says carefully. He looks at her with some regret. “We left it pretty badly. I doubt he even wants to talk to me, and I’m not sure I want to see him either.” “Come on, when are you ever going to be here any time soon after Saturday?” She scolds, more annoyed about it than she realised. He looks taken aback, and then nods. “You’re right. Of course. I’m sorry.” She gives him a sympathetic smile. “I just think it would be a tragedy if you left with more regrets over this than before.” He chuckles weakly. She looks at him and suddenly feels such a rush of affection for him, the same kind that made her want to protect him from anything when she was much younger. “Just try, ok? I have faith in you two.” She says sympathetically. Years ago, she might have put a comforting arm around him, but as much she wanted to now, it felt weird as adults who had only just started talking again after so long. He smiles sadly. “Yeah.” Betty hears footsteps and a voice coming from behind them. “Aunt B, since I’m finished with my homework can I maybe watch a movie out ohmygod...” Betty internally winces, having completely forgotten she hadn’t warned Ophelia, who was standing in front of the coffee table frozen, mouth open in shock, skin even more pale next to her copper hair. “I’m so sorry, Ophelia, I forgot to tell you my friend Archie might be coming around this morning?” Archie looks a little surprised, but says nothing of it. Ophelia closes her mouth, still mostly frozen, eyes whipping between them. “He’s only in town for a little while and I haven’t been able to catch up with him yet, I didn’t know I’d be looking after you today when I made the plans.” She says, and hopes Archie will understand why she is having to lie a bit, or at least won’t ask right now. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I came into town a bit last minute and your aunt was nice enough to fit me into her schedule.” Archie jumps in nicely, addressing Ophelia with a smile. Ophelia squeaks at being directly addressed, and immediately puts a hand to her mouth, colouring. Betty feels both bad for accidentally springing this on her poor niece, but much worse for having to resist the impulse to laugh at the situation. “How do you...know...her?” Ophelia says slowly, in a quiet voice unlike her usual confident, friendly tone. She watches Archie tentatively like she’s seeing a ghost, or a Yeti and she needs photographic proof. He chuckles, in a friendly, un-mocking way. “Actually we grew up next to each other. We used to send each other messages from our bedroom windows. Before we got phones, of course.” Ophelia smiles slowly, looking like she still thinks she might have walked into a strange dream, and looks at her. “Really?” She asks, as if she’s waiting for Betty to reveal this has been some weird prank. Betty smiles and nods. Ophelia gasps, and then blushes again. “I can’t believe you never told me you know a famous person! I can’t believe you grew up with Archie Andrews! Do you know Josie, too?” Ophelia says in a rapid stream. “We all went to school together, actually.” Betty grins mischievously. “I’m sorry I never told you, it’s just to you he’s a famous musician, but to me he’s a boy who used to get nightmares from the scary stories I told him, so, not that exciting.” Archie gasps, in mock-offense.”In my defence, your aunt looked like an angel child but she was terrifying, and she knew how to tell a story that stayed with you.” He explains to Ophelia, who giggles. “Remind me to tell you about the Halloweens we did together. When we were nine I convinced him to go as Ron to my Hermione. I’m sure I have that photo somewhere.” Betty says, grinning. “Oh my god.” Archie says and shakes his head. Ophelia looks like this might be the best day of her life. “I’m sorry I’m so nervous, I just love your music and I know I’m only twelve but you and Josie are my favourite band and I can’t believe that you’re in my town, just sitting here now, like it’s just so weird.” Ophelia blurts out, blushing like a sunset. Archie grins. “Well, once it was my town too, and I was your age here too, if that makes it less weird. But thank you, I honestly never get tired of hearing from people who like our music. I’m glad you like it, that’s why we make it.” Ophelia beams. “Also I can feel I’m blushing a lot, I’m sorry about that I can’t control it.” Archie chuckles, in a self-deprecating way. “Don’t worry, your aunt knows I was much worse. And I got embarrassed easily. It goes away, sort of.” Ophelia looks at him gratefully. “Good to know.” “It’s true, he looked like a lit match.” Betty adds, to Ophelia’s giggle. “Clearly we should have tried to do this earlier, you guys are getting to be better friends than we are.” Betty jokes. Archie grins at her. “Well, if your aunt – and your mom, of course – say it’s ok, I’d love to get you tickets to our next New York show.” Ophelia’s eyes widen, and she looks at Betty. “You have to get Mom to let you take us, please, it would be so cool!” Archie looks at Betty like he’s worried he might have overstepped. She smiles and then nods at Ophelia. “I will try. But don’t get too excited yet. It does sound fun, though.” “Where did you go, Felie, weren’t you going to what.” Betty cringes, realising she also forgot about the other one. She hears Archie gasp softly, and is unsurprised. Charlton Blossom-Cooper is almost the spitting image of his father at the same age, albeit with a kinder look in his eyes. But his hair is just as deeply red, not strawberry blonde like his sister’s. “What?” He asks again, and she’s not sure whether he’s reacting to the whole situation or just the gasp. Betty is about to explain when Ophelia jumps in. “Ok Charlie, you’ve missed a lot, I’ll abridge it for you. Yes, that is Archie Andrews, apparently Aunt B and him grew up next door to each other, she never mentioned it but they’re friends, and also we’re invited to their concert in New York if Mom agrees.” Charlie grins. Betty likes that while he’s handsome like Jason was, he’s a little goofier, and a little less aristocratic and pompous looking. “Awesome.” * Josie walks up to the old yellow house, wishing she’d brought a scarf because it’s colder than she expected today. She really needs to see Archie, and he hasn’t returned her texts. Is he still mad at her? It’s an unusually long time for him to stay mad considering they’ve made up worse arguments in half the time. So now she’s going directly to his Dad’s house to talk to him. She really hopes he’s not mad, or this is going to get awkward fast. And she needs to talk to him, because he’s the only one who’ll understand. As much as she wanted to tell it all to Mel, they might be friendly again but she didn’t think it would be fair to put all that on her. Maybe when they were teens, and they could talk about anything, but she didn’t think they were there yet. Not to mention, she doesn’t exactly want to recount the whole story to her. She knocks on the front door, feeling nervous, and Fred opens it. He smiles on seeing her. “Josie, what a lovely surprise! How are you?” He says kindly. “I’m good. Same old, same old.” She lies, beaming. If Fred notices, he doesn’t comment, but his eyes have the familiar caring, searching look that she associates with him. She’s gotten to know him pretty well over the years, and is sometimes jealous that Archie’s Dad cares so much when her own is the opposite. He and Hermione treat her like family, though, so it’s kind of like having a father that cares. She takes the offered hug. It comforts her more than she would have thought. “But I’m actually looking for Archie, is he here?” She asks, hoping she isn’t going to cry right here on the doorstep. Fred continues to smile warmly, but his eyes look worried for her. “I’m sorry Josie, he’s not actually been home yet. I can let him know when I see him?” She shakes her head, smiling. “No, I’m sure he’ll get back to me...when he gets back.” she says, unsure of how to phrase it. She knows Fred’s probably aware of what he’s doing, but she’s not comfortable saying it in front of him. It’s a little too weird. “It’s so great to see you, but I have to go, I have plans with Mel...” she lies, but her smile is genuine affection. Fred nods understandingly. “We’d love to see you again before you go. You should come round for dinner when that son of mine actually is here.” She chuckles. “Love to.” She goes to leave, as Fred says, “Josie, are you ok?” She would love to tell him that no, she’s just holding it together, and break down and tell him all about why it feels like someone backed a truck over her heart, but she can’t. He isn’t her Dad, and while he knows who she is, he doesn’t know the half of it. She smiles at him. “Of course. Thanks, Fred.” “Ok, see you Josie.” he says kindly, as he shuts the door. She walks down the front steps, and as she’s wondering what to do next, she sees someone approaching. A pale skinned, dark haired someone. “Jughead?” She asks. He looks very anxious. “Josie?” He says, now looking confused as well as anxious. Surely he knew she was in town? Or was he just surprised to find her coming out of this house in particular? “Yes? You sound surprised.” She replies. His eyes flit to the house and back to her. “If you’re looking for Archie, I already asked. He’s out somewhere, I guess.” She adds. He looks disappointed, and more anxious than before. “And you don’t know where?” He asks, with a hint of sardonic humour. She raises an eyebrow. “It’s not like I have a GPS chip in him. He’s an adult, he can do what he wants.” Jughead nods, and they stand around in awkward silence. “Did you have plans?” He ventures, looking unsure of why he’s even still talking. She’s surprised by the question. “No, I...just needed to talk to him.” Maybe that’s why she’s unexpectedly honest. He smiles, and there’s some bitterness to it. “Yep. Me too.” He says, and begins to walk away. She doesn’t know why she does it – they were never particularly close in school, even though she was friends with his group – but even as an adult he has remnants of a skinny, fragile kid wrapping himself in layers and sarcasm, trying to protect himself. Maybe it’s because she’s heartbroken, and trying to hide it, and she recognises the same exact thing in him. Something happened between them. Maybe that’s why Archie’s AWOL. “Jughead!” She calls. He turns around automatically, looking confused again. “I’m not promising I’m good at this, and maybe you’d wanna talk to a friend instead, but if you need someone to talk to...I’m here, I guess,” she says, unsure how he’ll respond. He looks at her and he knows. She can see he recognises the hurt in her eyes. He gulps. “I’d...I ‘d like that. And I’m not saying I’m great at it either, but if you wanna talk about it, I guess – I’m here too.” She nods. “Alright then. If we’re gonna do this though, I’d prefer to talk somewhere private.” “I hear you.” He says. * “So why have you had to be looking after them? Shouldn’t they have, school or something? Is it the holidays?” Archie asks. The twins themselves had breezed out to meet some friends at the diner earlier, and she’d been secretly a little grateful for the freedom to talk. Betty narrows her eyes a little, thinking. “Some kind of flu outbreak taking a few kids down – the administration panicked and gave the students the rest of the week off. Not that I don’t love a chance to see the kids, but it’s kind of been a big interruption in my schedule. Not to mention Cheryl was supposed to have them yesterday afternoon, and then last minute she begged me to take them, for some mysterious reason...” She notices Archie’s expression change, interested surprise to understanding very quickly. “Do you know what she’s up to then?” she asks shrewdly. He grins, shrugging and raising his hands defensively. “I can’t say anything for sure.” “But you know something? C’mon, you have to tell me.” She says, with a mischievous smirk. Is it totally fair to try and find out this way? Probably not, but her curiosity can’t resist. “I can see that you’re in the right job, damn.” he teases her. “Ok, well all I know is that when I left Jug’s yesterday I really wanted to talk to Josie. And she wasn’t picking up...” he says cryptically, raising his eyebrows. She laughs at this, and then realises what he’s saying. “She did sound really nervous about what she was doing on the phone...do you really think – Cheryl was pretty broken up too, after you guys...” She trails off, more seriously. Archie looks sobered by the thought, too. “I really don’t know. Josie’s got a lot of anger there, I can’t see her making up so easily...But then again, I can’t talk. My money’s on that being where Cheryl is though.” She nods, unsurprised but unexpectedly somewhat worried. Ten years of having to be in each other’s lives when they might have split off after college, having family in common, creates some kind of bond. Now she can anxious for two friends, as if she’s not got enough to think about. It wasn’t hard for her to figure it out, but she’d had it confirmed by Veronica – who had sworn her to secrecy about it. She’d understood why, when she’d been in the same boat. “There was kind of a lot going on that last year, wasn’t there? You think that you’re the only one with secrets, but so does everyone else. All of these secret romances and crossed wires.” She muses. He smiles, a little wistfully, and then his expression falls like he’s just remembered some bad taste. “Secret romances, you’re telling me... So you knew about Jug and Reggie then?” She’s taken aback, since she hasn’t thought about that in years. “What?” He looks at her, almost like he’s annoyed, but not really at her. “Apparently that’s where he was disappearing those times. It’s ok, I know you know.” “How do you – who told you all this?” She asks, suspiciously narrowing her eyes at him. “Reggie told me last night, when we were hanging out – “ he says. “Damnit, Reggie!” She interjects, then something occurs to her. “Wait...” He breaks off awkwardly at the way her expression changes. “Uh..” She knows he could probably attempt to pretend he just hung out with Reggie and went home with some other girl or whoever, but she knows like he does firstly – she’s not an idiot, and secondly – she knows Reggie. If she was caught off guard before though, it’s nothing compared to now. She gasps theatrically. “That’s why you were late? And all – Oh my god. Really? Reggie?” She asks, completely taken aback. He looks at her sheepishly, holding the back of his neck with one hand like he’s trying to hide. “Yeah, sorry, I wasn’t going to say anything...” Then he seems to parse something she’s said. “Also, you dated him, so you’re not in a position to judge.” This makes her smile, for some reason, in her confusion. “I do remember. I guess...you could do worse?” He smirks, ears still a bit red. “I mean, he was my friend too. So.” There is a moment of silence. “So, you’re not surprised, then?” He says slowly. She looks at him, kindly.”I won’t lie and say I totally wasn’t – but I know you. I’ve heard some of those lyrics. It’s not the biggest shock ever. Plus, that whole takes one to know one thing.” She’s half-joking, but he grins at this, looking less embarrassed. “Thanks.” He says. She smiles as they sit there, quiet, happy. She shakes her head. “Obviously, you know I’m not judging but it’s very weird to me that you hooked up with my ex. I did not see that coming.” She’s half joking, because it’s not like she has romantic feelings for either of them now, but it’s not like she would have predicted it either. “Neither did I, so I guess we’re even?” He returns, but he’s smiling like he’s only teasing her back. Or half-teasing, like her. She sucks in a breath, then smiles, caught out. “Yeah, ok, fair point.” He chuckles. “Have you seen her yet?” He asks, gently. She has a flash of the store, and outside the newsagent, and feels a wave of embarrassment at the memory. “Yes, I – uh, saw her yesterday. With her mom.” “And?” He asks, in a way that reminds her their childhood, like when she was telling him a story. “And...nothing. She was nice. I felt awkward. Nothing new.” She replies, trying to sound casual and not like she’s leaving anything out. He gives her a look. “Y’know for an investigative reporter, it’s worrying that I can still tell when you’re lying.” Damn childhood friends, she thinks, they know all your tells. “I wasn’t lying, I just didn’t say...everything.” She says, in defense. “So?” He asks, exaggeratedly. She laughs. “It’s not a big thing, she just – I thought she was leaving and I would probably next see her on Saturday night – and then as her mom was leaving, she told me she was at the B&B. That’s all.” He raises his thick eyebrows at her. “That’s all.” She gives him a sceptical look. “It doesn’t mean anything.” He scoffs. “It means that she wants you to know where she is. While she’s in town. So you can come see her. That’s pretty loud and clear.” She feels an unexpected rush of gratitude towards him in that moment. He was unexpectedly mature after they had finally decided to tell him that they were together, in the last month of senior year. She has a flash of his younger face making the journey from confused to understanding. “Wow, I mean I really wouldn’t have guessed, but that’s – that’s great. You’re both my friends, I just want you to be – happy, y’know?” He had said. “Ronnie, this is kind of like that thing you said – you know where you feel like you’ve done something before? I think it was like, French?” In that moment she would never have been able to picture this future, her thinking of Veronica as some distant celeb, talking about her with her other celebrity friend she hadn’t seen in years. It was bizarre. She lies her head back on the couch. “When did it get so complicated?” She sighs. He lies back too. “You’re telling me. I think it got complicated way before we left though.” “I think you’re right.” * Josie sips the coffee she brought back to Jughead’s apartment, still kind of wondering how she got here. He sips his own across the table from her and looks like he’s wondering the same thing. “Well, we came here to talk, so talk.” She says directly. The hint of a wry smile ghosts on his lips. “Alright then. I talked to Kevin about it, but I thought –you might actually be the one person with insight into this. I don’t know who Archie is anymore, but you do.” “I mean, I’ll do my best.” He nods, looking awkward and unsure of how to start. She decides to try and start him off. “So, what did you fight about?” He frowns. “Same thing as last time. Except now, we’re also fighting about who started the last fight, who cut who off first.” He exhales in frustration. “I definitely started this one though. I don’t even know why.” She gives him a sceptical look, because she’s certain he does, but doesn’t push it. “So I’m guessing it ended pretty badly?” His mouth quirks into a bitter half-smile. “You could say that. Pretty sure he doesn’t want to see me again, he was pretty angry.” “Do you?” She asks seriously. He looks almost surprised by the question. “I –uh, I mean I’m still angry at him too, that was really – yeah. I do.” He sighs. “Why though? I should just let this go, right?” She feels a profound wave of sadness engulf her again, like an afterimage of the tsunami of grief that knocked her out cold after getting back to the B&B last night and finding that Veronica was out and Archie and Mel were un-contactable. “I mean, smart money would be to let it go, before you make it irreparably worse, or you get hurt again.” She says slowly, trying not to let her voice shake. He swallows, looking like he agrees. There’s something about the way he looks sad, or lonely, that’s different to Archie. It’s more like a baseline, expected because it’s always been there. “But I don’t know, call me sentimental, but I don’t think you should. You know him, he reacts quickly, he hurts deeply, but trust me, I doubt he wants to throw this opportunity away over some fight.” She continues, to his slight surprise. “But it’s kind of insane, right?” He asks, looking at her. “Never said it wasn’t. But most friendships are, a little bit.” She replies, wryly. He nods in agreement, seemingly thinking. She sips her coffee. Then she thinks of something, and hesitates. But she figures, this is why she’s here, when she barely knows him. To be what everyone here can’t be – a window into the other life, the ten years not spent here. “I know you think maybe he wanted to forget you, once he was on this track to be famous.” She says tentatively, watching him. “Was I wrong?” He interjects, bitterly. She narrows her eyes some. “I didn’t notice you trying to call either. Anyway, I get that it was all fucked up before we even left, and that’s why you didn’t talk – but as for forgetting you? He may not have been able to call you, but he never forgot you. God, why do think we’re here?” She lets out a breath, after her unexpectedly impassioned speech. He stares at her with narrowed eyes, looking paler than usual (which is an achievement, as he’s already one of the palest of the white people she’s grown up around). “I don’t know why you decided that a small-town high school reunion sounded like fun. You’re a mystery to me.” “Don’t be facetious, Jones. He’s trying to put right his wrongs with you. That’s how I know he’s not going to give up just because you fought.” She says, a little more snappishly than she meant, but she gets her point across. He looks more subdued. “And Betty, I guess.” He says. She gives him a doubtful look. “I’m sure he’s happy to make things up with her. He might even say that to you, but you were the draw. And I know he’d hate me telling you, but you guys need someone to tell you the truth.” He sips what’s left of his coffee quietly, nodding. “The truth. We’re too busy getting caught up in other issues to get at the truth.” He looks at her. “So, quid pro quo I promised you I’d listen. What’s your truth?” She stares at him, having half-forgotten he’d offered. She stares down at her take away cup, formulating her thoughts. “What if it’s not just a fight for me?” She says slowly. “Have you ever realised in a fight that this person who is supposed to care about you, understand you, doesn’t understand you at all? They don’t even know why what they’re doing hurts.” “I think you know I do.” He replies, drily. She shares an understanding look with him. They’re quiet. “So...I’m assuming you went to see Cheryl, then?” He ventures, awkwardly. She is surprised. “How...?” He looks uncomfortable. “Bonding sounds kind of cliché, but after you guys left...she was the only person who really seemed to get it. Betty was supportive, but she was so wrapped up with Veronica ... She needed someone to talk to, I needed someone to not...pity me, we kinda...became friends? So, it would’ve been hard for her not to talk about you.” He says, watching her expression tentatively. “I’m sorry if I’m – crossing a line, admitting I know.” She shakes her head. “No, I’m glad you do. That’s one less person I gotta lie to.” She can feel herself already welling up in her tearducts, but she pushes it down. “What did she do?” He asks carefully. She feels a flare of nausea, and panic thinking of it. “I can’t...I’m sorry, I just – it was over something very personal.” He nods, probably understanding humiliating personal drama better than most, she muses. He gives her a sad, but understanding look, and sighs. “I don’t need to know what she did. But...” He pauses, like he’s thinking. “She might do a lot of crazy shit, and I used to not understand it at all...but I started to realise, worryingly, we’re a lot alike. So if she’s acting inexplicably horrible, provoking a fight, or whatever...” Josie feels her eyes brimming with hot tears. She scoffs dismissively. “- It’s probably because she’s afraid. Pre-emptively striking, because she knows you’ll leave, like everyone else.” He says, looking annoyed, voice almost shaking. It made a certain sense now that she thought about it – they certainly were linked by trauma, mirroring each other on separate ends of the scale. If only she could talk herself into understanding, she would. “That doesn’t make it right though.” She says, and all she can feel is hurt. He nods at her, slowly, understanding. “I guess not.” * “So Jacob’s invited us to sleepover, can we please go?” Ophelia says excitedly. Betty looks at her niece and nephew, looking winsome and excited. “What about your mom? She’ll be getting off her shift and she’d want to see you.” She reminds them. Their faces fall in unison, and Betty thinks it’s unfair how much children can manipulate your emotions. Small things are the biggest disappointments to them because they don’t know any better yet. “Of course we want to see Mom, but she’ll be really tired when she gets home from the hospital. It’s not like we’ll get to do much hanging out with her.” Charlie reasons. She frowns, but it becomes a smile. They know she’s a softie where they’re concerned. “Ok fine, I’ll tell your mom. I guess you gotta take advantage of the break.” She relents, and the twins cheer. “Thanks, Aunt B!” They chorus, hugging her. “Do you need a lift over there? It’s a long walk.” She asks. “That would be great – if you don’t mind.” Ophelia says politely, and Betty laughs. “Of course not.” * She drops the twins off and finds herself driving aimlessly around. She should really just go home and catch up on some work. But she doesn’t. She drives past the elementary school, down Watford, makes a right on Mitchell, gets onto Mapletree Rd, passing Pop’s on the right. This is the road that leads out of town, although it goes on for ages, passing by Sweetwater River as it does. She drives along it, feeling almost like she’s not the one driving. Like she’s sitting in the passenger seat, wondering where the driver is taking her. She sees the quaint brick building, and pulls into the car park of the Baker B&B. Suddenly she’s aware that she did this. It wasn’t some phantom spirit that drove her here, it was her. This is a bad idea. This is definitely a bad idea. She might not even be here, and that would be humiliating. She almost baulks at that thought. But, maybe fatally, she can’t help being curious. She takes a breath, and steadies herself. She turns off the engine, and gets out of the car. Asking old Mrs Baker which room it is, is slightly embarrassing, but she deals with it. Mrs Baker had known them as teens, she knew they’d been friends. She feels less confident as she walks up to the door. In fact she feels sick, not sure if she wants Veronica to be there or not. Not sure what would be worse. She knocks. There’s no noise. This was a mistake, she should go. Then, the definite sound of footsteps inside. This really was a mistake, she should go. The door opens. Veronica looks as devastatingly beautiful as she did yesterday. She’s still wearing the glasses, so perhaps they really are for reading. She looks stunned, and doesn’t say anything. “I – I figured you wouldn’t have told me you were here, if you didn’t want me to say hi, but I realise now I didn’t give you any warning, and I’m probably interrupting you in the middle of something, I can –“ She says quickly, regretting the decision to open her mouth. Veronica shakes her head, making her dark hair fall over her shoulders. “Hold up, Betty – I’m not busy. Don’t go.” She steps aside to let her in. There’s what looks like a script open on the bed. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your reading,” She says, nodding at it. Veronica smiles. “My agent sent it over, I was just reading it because I was bored.” “Cool.” Betty says, feeling awkward. It should be fine. It’s been years, she should be able to act normal, like two mature adults who can be civil and acknowledge their shared past without going into it. Yeah, likely. It would be awkward even if her ex hadn’t gone and become a celebrity, resetting the power balance between them again. Although, it’s not surprising – Veronica was always beautiful, charismatic and dramatic, and people want those qualities in an actress. “Come sit.” Veronica says warmly, sitting on the end of the bed and patting the space beside for Betty to join her. Almost on autopilot she does it, and hates that she’s still swayed so easily by Veronica’s confidence. They sit, smiling awkwardly, in silence. “So...not that it’s not a lovely surprise but...why did you come over?” Veronica asks. Betty gives her a searching look. “Why did you tell me where you were staying?” Veronica looks almost surprised for a second, then she smiles. Not the more practised public one, but the one she used to have when it was just them, less showy but incredibly fond. Betty almost melts then and there. Why did she think she could come here and be cool? What a ridiculous thought. “I wanted to see you – I don’t know if I’m being unfair to you, but even before everything – you were my best friend. My first friend here! So at the very least, I just wanted to catch up with you as a friend.” Veronica says, impassioned but still smiling. She was always good at persuasive speeches, good at getting people to go along with her plans. Not for the first time, Betty’s not sure which way to move. “Alright.” She says slowly. The thought that they might not acknowledge the relationship hurts, but also, the thought of talking about it now, here, fills her with panic. “So...how have you been?” Veronica asks gently. She thinks about it. How to answer? Seven years at the Chronicle, almost. Three serious relationships. Three painful breakups. Nine birthday parties for two red-headed children. Nearly ten years of distance. How to fit all that time into a reasonable answer? She smiles politely. “Fine. I’m at the Chronicle now, with Jug. I like it.” She can see Veronica’s a little disappointed at her pedestrian answer, but what was she expecting? She’s not sure what to tell that can compete with anything in Veronica’s once-again glamorous and unrelatable life. “That’s good. I always thought you’d be a journalist. ” She tries, her eyes searching. For what? Some connection they had once had? But already by coming here, Betty has fed it. Try as she might, she can’t pretend it’s not there, and yet she can’t let go yet. Logically, there’s every chance that to let those emotions back in, even a little, leads to only bad things. As she’s just seen proven with Archie and Jughead. “It’s not the biggest thing, but I enjoy the work. I like working with friends. I like being able to live in town, close to my other friends. I guess that seems pretty small town to you, though?” She says, half-joking. Veronica looks sincere and serious at this, though. “No, that sounds pretty nice. There’s so many people I’ve fallen out of touch with just because we move around so much. Hard to keep the friendship on a deeper level. It sounds...comfortable. Sometimes I miss that.” There she goes again, being disarmingly sincere. Since day one, no matter how much she might have wanted to hate this new girl, who swept into her life right at the point she thought she could predict how it would go on, and changed everything. She should’ve been unsettled by a beautiful girl in an expensive-looking cape, making her best friend look at her the way he’d never looked at her. Worse, the way she looked at her, not in her experience how beautiful, wealthy girls had looked at her before. She couldn’t even blame him for being stunned, her gaze was magnetic. And Betty felt, at the time, that a girl whose frame of reference was more Gossip Girl than Gilmore Girls, wouldn’t want to stay friends with her. But she turned out to be so sincere, so invested in their friendship. It was hard to stay guarded around that. “It can’t be all bad though. I’m sure you’re up to much more exciting things than I am.” She counters, already feeling herself caving. Veronica smiles, a little ironically. “Yeah, I guess. I’m trying to figure out what my next project should be.” She turns to lean over and grab the script from the top of the bed. “It’s a play. Apparently the writer would love me to be in it, but I don’t know yet.” “Is it not that good?” She asks, interested in spite of herself. “No, I mean, from what I’ve read I really like it...it’s hard to explain.” “Can I see it?” She asks. Veronica hands it over. She flips through it briefly. “And they want you to be one of the protagonists?” Veronica nods. “It’s a good role, actually.” She looks up from the script. “So what’s complicated?” Veronica sighs. “I haven’t done theatre in years, and it’s so much more intense. You can rehearse all you want, but if you fuck it up on stage that’s what people will remember.” Betty smiles, bemused by this. “The Veronica Lodge I knew wasn’t scared of anything. I’m sure you’d be amazing.” Veronica laughs, and it’s viscerally familiar to her. It lights up her whole face with warmth. “Ok, I admit it, I’m a little afraid of making the jump again.” She looks at Betty, familiarity and warmth emanating from her gaze. “You’re right though. If I like the rest of it, it might be good to have a change. You’re usually right.” Betty chuckles. “It’s a burden.” Veronica takes off her glasses, and she seems to be hesitating, something wistful in her eyes. “I know you might not want to hear this, but I can’t – leave without saying it. I’m so sorry for what happened.” Betty had been preparing herself for a number of outcomes to this visit, but somehow hearing this apology hadn’t made the list. She takes a moment. “It’s ok. Well, it wasn’t ok...but, we were kids. Long-distance wasn’t for us.” Veronica looks truly remorseful, and shakes her head. “No, don’t – all I can say is that I’m sorry I was selfish, and that whole thing with Marcus – “ “It’s alright, you weren’t actually cheating on me.” She says automatically, then with more feeling. “I’m sorry that I overreacted there. That wasn’t fair.” “I wasn’t fair to you about that. I never wanted to do anything about it, but I liked him, I know you realised that” She continues, impassioned and apparently determined to not let herself off the hook. Betty nods, unable to rebut this, feeling a lump rising in her throat. Veronica catches her gaze, eyes misty. “Most of all, I’m sorry I hurt you, B. I – hate – that I was a reason for that. You don’t have to forgive me, but I just – wanted to tell you.” She can feel herself tearing up, and it’s different to shouting at Archie. She was angry at him, but there was less to explain here. There were so many times she wanted to get angry at Veronica during the long-distance period that preceded the end of their relationship, but right now she just felt so, sad. Sad that it had ended. Sad that they hadn’t been mature enough to make it. “V, I know I hurt you too. I’m sorry.” She says softly. “But we had some good times, right? It wasn’t all bad.” Veronica wipes her eyes, and smiles weakly. “That summer before college was pretty amazing. I mean, despite the other drama.” Betty is viscerally reminded of heat, sunny picnics by the river, reading in the sun with Veronica’s arms around her. It makes her breath hitch the way the memories hit her. Even then it was weird, she was on such a high, so in love, while she knew Jughead and Cheryl were quietly devastated. “Yeah, it was,” she breathes. Veronica reaches tentative fingertips towards her hand. She doesn’t pull her hand away. Her heart beats fast. Like before, the world falls away, it doesn’t exist beyond the two of them. Veronica takes her hand. “Stay here with me for a while?” She asks softly. Which is how Betty finds herself lying opposite her ex-girlfriend, hands still intertwined, looking at each other. She doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to deal with anything else. Time doesn’t exist here. “Can I tell you a secret?” She whispers. Their faces aren’t that far apart anyway. “Of course,” Veronica whispers back, with a conspiratorial smile. She pauses. “I sent some work into the New York Times, along with some freelance pieces I did, in response to a job ad, and I didn’t really expect anything to come of it. But they want me to come in for an interview in a week.” She breathes. Getting that secret off her chest feels really good, actually. Veronica looks surprised, then delighted. “B, that’s amazing! Tell me you’re going to go?” She frowns a little. “I don’t know. I haven’t told anyone yet.” “Why not? They’d be so proud.” Veronica says, like she knows this for a fact. She looks down. “I’m worried about Jug. I’m so scared he’ll think I’m abandoning him here. I don’t know if I can bear to do that.” She looks up, feeling anxious just thinking about it. Veronica looks concerned. “Betty, I get it. He’s lost a lot here, you don’t want to add to that...but are you going to do that forever? I know that he wouldn’t want you to limit your aspirations.” She sighs. “I know it’s small here, but it’s not a bad life. Maybe I don’t want to leave. I’ve got two little nieces and nephews who I love to bits, not to mention Polly.” Veronica smiles at this. “I know. But it’s not like New York is that far. You could still visit on weekends.” She grins, scrunching her eyes up in some kind of amused frustration. “It’s just one interview. I might blow it.” “Unlikely. They’ll be blown away.” Veronica says, matter-of-factly, with a more mischievous grin. It fills Betty’s stomach with a nostalgic flare of warmth. It’s been a while since she’s felt that. “Plus, maybe if you get it you could visit me when I’m not on location or in Los Angeles or wherever.” Veronica adds, quieter, stroking Betty’s hand in hers with her thumb. “I’d like that,” She says, with a slow smile. “I’ve really missed you.” Veronica’s eyes are glistening, but she looks so unselfconsciously happy. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you, Betty Cooper.” Betty moves close, still looking at her. “I’d really like to kiss you, now.” Veronica whispers. “I’d really like that too.” She says, smiling and Veronica takes her face in hand, very gently, and kisses her. Her whole body feels warm, and all she can think is that this is how it’s supposed to be. This is home, and she thought she was happy, but she was missing this without realising it, like it’s a part of her physically. Then she rolls over and feels something tiny and hard digging into her back. “Ow, what is that?” she exclaims, pulling away. Veronica looks confused. “What? Is it too much? We can –“ Veronica starts, but pales under her tan skin as Betty finds the offending object and looks at it. No wonder she’d felt it, it’s a ring with a cartoonishly large diamond set in it. She keeps thinking it’s costume jewellery, but the way it glitters reminds her it’s real. She’s never even seen a diamond ring in reality, let alone one this big. “Betty, wait, before –“ Veronica starts. “Why is there a – this is an engagement ring, oh my god.” Betty says, horrified. Somewhere she’d known that, she’d read that hadn’t she? Yet her brain had kindly let her forget all about it. “No, Betty, it’s complicate – “ Veronica says emotionally, reaching out for her. Betty recoils, dropping the ring in front of her. “Complicated? How? Your hand got tired of the weight, so you left it to rest on the bed? You’re engaged, oh my god, I’m so stupid.” She gets up, feeling like she’s been shocked. Veronica moves with her, tears in her eyes. “It’s not that simple! I don’t know that I want to get married, and I think this is why!” Betty feels stung, can feel herself starting to cry as well but she doesn’t care. “Oh, so I can be here while you figure out whether you love your boyfriend? That’s so fucked up, Veronica!” “It’s not like that, you know I wouldn’t do that! I didn’t expect this before I came back here, I just wanted to see you!” Veronica pleads. “Except that you did, Veronica. And I get sucked into this thing you do, every time, and I get hurt everytime!” She shouts. She’s angry now. More than that, she feels – humiliated. “I swear, you and Archie. You never mean to hurt people, but you do anyway! You don’t think, you just do!” Veronica looks devastated. “I’m sorry, I know I should have told you but it’s different with the people I’m around! Asking someone to marry you isn’t the same as it is with normal people, it’s like something to consider! And I know now that I don’t want it, I want you!” “I don’t really a give a shit about “your people”! Just leave me the hell out of your insane, fake, famous bullshit world. I’m done with this.” She says furiously, bitterly proud that she’s managing to get all the words out clearly when she can barely see for crying. Veronica looks frozen, devastated, and doesn’t stop her from leaving. She passes the front desk but doesn’t care if old Mrs Baker sees her like this. What does it matter, now? In the car park, her stomach jolts as she makes a tall redhead out through her tears. “Betty? What’s wrong?” He says, sounding worried. She wipes furiously at her eyes, noticing he looks miserable, too. “I can’t, Arch. I can’t.” She says hurriedly, not looking at him as she looks for her keys. “Betty!” He says, behind her, as she gets into her car. Why did they have to come back? All of them were so selfish. Goddamn celebrities. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- If I could give all my love to you I could justify myself But I'm just not coming through You're a pill to ease the pain Of all the stupid things I do I'm an anchor on the line Of a clock that tells the time That is running out on you “If I Could Give All My Love”, Counting Crows Archie looks down at his phone, anxious. He’d worried about it for an hour or two after leaving Betty’s apartment, before he even got up to courage to dial. He had half-expected Jughead not to pick up, and he wouldn’t blame him for it.But he seemed to want to talk, even though he sounded as nervous about it as Archie felt.They had decided against Pop’s – comfortable, but too public. When he’d gotten home, his Dad had gone to work, and so had Hermione so they were meeting here to talk.Now he’s sitting here, trying to think of what he’s going to say.It had been a pretty bad fight. At the time he’d been so angry he’d really thought that was it for them, that it had been a failed experiment. But as always, the anger faded and guilt set in. And it seemed pretty important to Betty that they talk. So here he was, trying to give this another shot.He hears a knock at the door and his stomach lurches. It was ridiculous to be this anxious, he’d been in more nerve-wracking situations than this, hadn’t he?He opens the door, and sees Jughead with a carefully neutral expression. “Just warning you, I’ve only got my lunch-hour.”“I really appreciate it, Jug.” He says, meaning it.“Do you want a drink? We’ve got coffee, and I think, many kinds of tea, but they might be Hermione’s...” He says, almost just to fill the silence, leading them into the living room.Jughead shakes his head. “Uh, no I’m, fine. I’ve had like two coffees already.”Archie smiles slightly at this, almost involuntarily.“So...” He begins and trails off.Jughead raises an eyebrow. “So...” He repeats.Archie runs a hand through his hair, mostly to keep from worrying at his nail beds with a sharp fingernail.“I know things got out of hand yesterday. I wasn’t sure you’d even want to talk. But as Betty reminded me, I’m not here long. I wanna be able to talk to you. About the fight, or whatever you want.” He says, hesitant but not looking away from Jughead.Jughead nods a little, and doesn’t say anything.“I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk...but I kind of got some unexpected advice before work. From Josie, actually.” He looks as surprised as Archie feels by this.“Josie? When – ok that’s not important. I’m – I’m sorry about yesterday.” He says, remembering that they have a time limit.Jughead looks more surprised at this. “I – I shouldn’t have started it. I think I was trying to provoke it, I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”Archie might not have seen him in ten years but he remembers what his old best friend looks like when he’s not telling everything. But he doesn’t push it.“I’m sorry that we stopped talking – it’s my biggest regret, and believe me I’ve had time to build up a whole damn lot,” he gets out. He hadn’t even been planning to say it, but he can’t help it. It’s more emotional than he meant to get right now.Jughead looks caught off-guard, speechless again.“I’m...maybe if I hadn’t been stubborn, I would have called. I should have called.” He says slowly, like each word is a little bit painful. Not devastation but a series of small stings.Archie sighs. “I don’t blame you for that. I left, I was stubborn enough to – I wish we’d talked more before I left. I was trying to be better at that.”Jughead nods, an infinitesimal action. “You...were better at it, that year. It meant a lot to me.”Archie feels himself smile ruefully. “Still didn’t help when it mattered.” He feels a pang of remorse, again. “I wish you’d felt like you could tell me the important things.”Jughead looks puzzled, vaguely suspicious at this. “Of course I did.”Archie looks at him, a little disbelieving. “Really? You trusted me with knowing what was going on with you all the time?”Jughead looks more suspicious now. “What are you trying to say, Archie?”He doesn’t know. The Josie-sounding voice in his head is telling him to drop this because it’s going to lead to another fight. But another voice wants to know, has to know why Jughead is now acting like there isn’t a whole part of his life he didn’t tell him about.“I’m not trying to start anything, but we were living together, Jug – I knew when you were sneaking away to do something, and I was worried you were in danger! No-one noticed when I used to sneak out, and it’s not like I blame my Dad but, God, I wish he had –“ He breaks off, breathing deeply. He feels like his sentences keep getting hijacked, coming out more intense than he wants them to.Jughead pales, but looks defensive. “I wasn’t in danger. Not like that, like I told you. Why does it matter?”Archie sighs in frustration. “You could’ve just told me about Reggie!” He snaps, and immediately regrets it. Hopefully he hasn’t thrown Reggie under the bus here too much.Jughead’s face changes from defensiveness to shocked confusion to anger fast. “How did you – Damnit, Reggie.” He says, seemingly having guessed it was unlikely that Betty told him.“I would have been ok with it, Jug – surprised, sure, but at least I would have known not to worry about you!” Archie says exasperatedly, realising that he should maybe have tried to work through this with Reggie or someone before he talked to Jughead again, because he can’t stop now.“Is that what this is about? It’s not like you told me every aspect of your life,” Jughead bites back, and it hurts whether he meant that or not.“Because you usually found out my secrets before I could tell you!” He retorts, stung. “We were supposed to be best friends, and I know I wasn’t perfect but I was fucking trying, and you couldn’t even tell me that. You were my best friend, and it was important!”Jughead makes a choked off noise of frustration. “God, Archie, you were a part of everything! Maybe I needed – something of my own. My own secret. That you weren’t a part of!”Jughead looks acutely uncomfortable, and has folded his arms protectively in front of him. It’s a very familiar gesture, but it only reminds him of other fights.Archie doesn’t know what to say to this.“Well that’s just fucking great, Jug! I can’t win – I wasn’t in your life enough, I was in your life too much, I don’t know what I was supposed to do!” He explodes. It apparently doesn’t matter how much he plans, or wants to avoid a fight, they fall back into it everytime.“I don’t know!” Jughead shouts back. “Fuck, though, is it any wonder I didn’t tell you? After the roadtrip?”There is a silence. The dead silence after a nuclear bomb rips through a town and destroys everything in its path.It was like a game of chicken, almost, who was going to bring it up first. How long could they go on without resorting to the nuclear option, the most painful thing?Jughead looks almost shocked, too, like he hadn’t meant to. But it’s out of the box now. The lake was beautiful, worth the three hour drive to get there. It was a bit isolated, but there was a general store in close driving distance, so they weren’t completely cut off from civilisation – they had barely any phone connection out here, but it was ok at the store, which is where Archie had called his Dad to say they’d arrived safely. He was in love with the scenery, even though it was like home it was also different. Wilder. They’d been spending the last two and a half days either relaxing, swimming, or hiking – like when his family had brought Jughead along sometimes on camping trips. Jughead had of course, complained about the constant hiking, smiling as he did. He liked the hikes a lot, but his favourite times where when they were just lying around in the sun by the side of the lake. He’d never been the reader Jughead was, but he’d been feeling extra inspired lately – maybe by the scenery, or the sun – and he would write lyrics down, and Jug would sit across from him propped up against an old tree with a wide trunk, writing in an actual notebook. He’d ask what he was writing, and Jughead would smirk and say “Maybe when it’s finished I’ll show you.” Out here, it felt different. Better. Not that the year had been terrible, but there was a lot going on that Archie was glad to be away from for a few days. Not bad things, all, just things that played on his mind. Stressful things. Finals were coming up in a few weeks, and yet they felt distant and unimportant in the beauty and stillness of the lake and the mountains. They were eating dinner at the fire they’d made, revelling in the warmth. Even in summer you didn’t want to be in the woods without some way of keeping warm. “What do you want to do tonight?” Jughead asked. “It’s our last night.” Archie groaned. “Don’t say it! I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow,” he looked at Jughead. “Hey, Jug, what do you think my Dad would say if I told him I was going to move here and become a woodsman?” Jughead laughed. “Without the internet? You would be back within a week.” “Hey, I could make it out here! Don’t laugh!” he said indignantly, but he was laughing too. “We could play...scrabble?” Jughead suggested, and Archie blew a raspberry. “Boo! Not that, you always beat me. It’s so boring.” he complained, and Jughead laughed. “Surprisingly I never get bored beating you,” he said, eyes glinting in the firelight. “Ok, I have an idea. But it’s just an idea.” Archie perked up. “I’m listening,” Jughead rummaged around in his bag, pulling out a small plastic Tupperware container. Inside looked like cake or something chocolate and cake-related. “I’m all for dessert, but I meant more how are we going to enjoy our last night here in this paradise? Before we have to go back home and back to school?” Archie asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Shh, Ye of little faith.” Jughead said, causing Archie to look even more confused. “No idea what that means.” Jughead gave him a long suffering-look. “It means shut up and listen. A friend of mine was baking some brownies, and asked if I wanted any for the trip – “ “Who? I know all your friends?” Archie interrupted. “Who’s baking things for you?” Jughead gave him an even more long-suffering look. “Archie, if you don’t stop interrupting I won’t give you any. Anyway, it’s a friend from work. You don’t know him.” Archie didn’t interrupt, but was still suspicious. Maybe it was one of Jughead’s dad’s friends, although he hoped not. And he couldn’t see them cooking him brownies. “Anyway he was making special brownies, and I was going to just eat them on my own, but I figured it might be an experience to eat them out here. Certainly something I could write about.” Jughead said casually, watching Archie carefully. “Special, like they’re that fancy unsweet chocolate, because I know you like that better than I –“ Archie started but Jughead gave him such a Look that he immediately realised his mistake. “Oh. Ohhh. How does your friend even know how to make that?” He asked, surprised. “They’re resourceful.” Jughead replied cryptically. Archie gave him a concerned look. “Are you sure? You never drink, I thought this wouldn’t really be your...thing.” Jughead looked into the fire, then back after a moment. “Thanks for – thinking of me...I know I don’t want to get wasted at a party like you guys but – writers have to be able to have experiences. And it’s not like it’s that strong, he – my friend – said to only eat half one at a time. It’s not like we’ll get wasted. But I get it if you don’t want to.” Archie thought about it for a second. It did sound like a more fun way than learning how to smoke. “Well if you want to, let’s do it.” He said, grinning. Jughead smiled. “Honestly, it might do nothing.” * “No, it’s like the bigness-“ “The bigness?” Jughead snickered. “Shut up, you know like, everything, around us and we’re so, so small – inside, inside it all, like I don’t know, I don’t even...” Archie expounded, looking up in awe. Jughead collapsed into laughter, and set Archie off again too. They were lying on the hood of the truck, with the blanket under them, looking up at the stars. The sky was unbelievably huge, and so impossibly beautiful. “I feel like I could just...sink into the background, like I feel like I’m good at doing that, you know?” Jughead half-whispered, slowly. “You know what I mean?” Archie considered it, then shook his head. “Nope.” He couldn’t help laughing, which made Jughead laugh. “Don’t sink into the background, Jug.” Archie said earnestly, smiling. “I’d miss you too much.” Jughead smiled, looking up. “Ok.” “Hey do you know any of those star- things?” Archie asked. “Costell – constellations?” Jughead asked, wincing as he tripped over the word. “Yes...but I can’t think right now.” Archie pointed lazily at a outline of stars. “We’ll name them ourselves! That one looks kind of like a ponytail, if you squint. That can be Betty.” Jughead laughed. “Ok.” He squints up at the stars. “That section looks like a K, that can be Kevin.” Archie laughed. “That one group over there looks like pearls, that can be Veronica.” “This is so dumb,” Jughead said fondly. “Well I’m having fun.” Archie replied, smiling widely. He looks up into the sky, squinting. “You know even the Betty and Veronica stars are together, and we picked them. Guess it’s fate.” He laughed, a little off-kilter. “Huh. They are.” Jughead replied, looking up. “Do you feel weird about it?” Archie considered it slowly. “Well, our ex-girlfriends are dating, and I didn’t see it coming. But then again, thinking about it...” Jughead let out an unexpected giggle at this, which made Archie laugh again. "They’re our friends though. I’m honestly so happy they’re happy.” Archie said slowly, and knew he meant it. “Was weird being on the other side of the conversation, though.” Jughead couldn’t help laughing again at this. Archie laughs with him. Not that he still had romantic feelings for either of them, but it had been an odd feeling when he’d been told, to say the least. Now, laughing on the bonnet of the truck miles away from town, he feels any angst over it leaving his body. He turned to face Jughead. “And you. How are you? Are you good?” He said warmly. Jughead smiled at him funny, that familiar ironic smile. “Well, high school will be over in a few weeks, so yes, I’m good.” He said. “But are you happy?” He said seriously, feeling like it was the most important thing in the world to know. Jughead half-smiled, and looked up at the sky and around, and then back at Archie. “I am right now. I am right here.” He said softly, with a small smile. Archie nodded slowly. “Me too.” He looked around. “Don’t you feel like, almost like nothing can get us here? Like, none of it matters here.” He says quietly. Jughead nodded. “Just us.” Archie nodded too, not taking his eyes off Jughead. It was too dark for him to see his face clearly, but they were close enough in the gloom that he could make out his expression. “I don’t want to go home. Let’s just stay here.” He whispered, only half joking. Jughead looked at him without saying anything for a long time. “Ok.” Archie looked at him, a curl of dark hair falling out of his ever-present beanie. There was a crumb on his cheek. Archie raised a hand and automatically brushed it off, and saw Jughead’s eyes widen in surprise. “Crumb.” He mumbled, but found he wasn’t moving his arm away. He could hear Jughead’s breathing getting shallower, and could feel his heart beating faster. He hoped it wasn’t out of fear. But as he began even trying to move his arm, it was like Jughead moved with it. Or maybe he was high and imagining it. He rested his hand on Jughead’s cheekbone and stroked it with his thumb, slowly. Then, either several hours or a few seconds later, he closed the already small distance between them, and kissed his best friend, very lightly, on the lips. After what might have been a few seconds more, Jughead pulled back, wild-eyed. “What are you doing?” He said, voice panicked and different than usual. Archie pulled away immediately, like he’d been shocked. He couldn’t say anything. “I can’t – I can’t be the next thing you try!” Jughead said, edging into hysteria. Archie felt pretty close to that as well. In a moment of self-awareness he felt he rarely had, he saw every relationship he’d had in the past two years, every kiss he’d ever had, just trying to find some comfort and something that wouldn’t make him feel like a mess. How was this any different? “Shit. Jug – I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m a mess. I’m such a mess.” He said, repeating it like a mantra, looking at his feet at the end of the bonnet. He couldn’t look at Jughead. Jughead said nothing. Then, quietly “We’re all messes. It’s ok.” Archie let out a wild, panic-edged laugh. “It’s not ok, I’m messed up. She messed me up. Why do I keep trying to ruin all of my friendships like this?” Jughead looked at him, and he could almost feel the deep sadness coming off him, he didn’t need to be able to see his expression. “It’s not your fault, Arch, God I’m so angry –“ He broke off bitterly, and swallowed. “I think you should talk to someone though.” Archie’s stomach dropped at the thought. “Maybe.” He dragged his eyes away from his feet to look at Jughead. “I would never want to hurt you, Jug. I know I keep messing that up.” His voice came out small and sad, but at least it was there. “I understand, don’t beat yourself up. People have done worse when they’re high. Or drunk.” Jughead’s voice sounded forgiving, but couldn’t hide a bitter edge. “Thank you.” He said, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. “It’s...fine.” The next morning, they packed up the camp silently. It wasn’t the kind of angry, hurt silence of their other fights, more like neither of them knew how to address what had happened, sober and in the light of day. It felt like it might not have even happened. Archie went to start the car and couldn’t. He knew if they didn’t talk about it before they got home, they never would. “As much as I don’t want to go into it, I think we have to talk about it.” He said awkwardly, staring out the windscreen. “I mean, it was just a mistake. It doesn’t even seem that big now, in hindsight.” Jughead said quickly. “We had a really good weekend, what if we just – agree to call it a, mishap, and forget about it.” Archie leapt on this. It had felt big and intense last night, but maybe he was blowing it out of proportion. “Yeah, why let one – mishap – ruin a really good trip.” He stared out at the lake, and now couldn’t wait to get away. “Do you want to choose the first song?” He said, and looked at Jughead. Jughead looked surprised. “No you can. Bring on whatever terrible dance EDM garbage you will.” He said, and the joke almost made him feel normal again. “I’m offended and I’m going to pick something you hate just for that.” He said, with a half-laugh. It would be ok. It would be fine. Jughead looks tired, and hurt.“Is it any wonder? You did that before the roadtrip, Jug! It might have changed things, I don’t –“ Archie breaks off.“This is ridiculous. I keep trying with you, but maybe there’s just – too much there. Maybe this is just what we’re always going to do.”He swallows, wishing he hadn’t come to this conclusion but not sure what other one there is. He doesn’t think about the road trip often, keeps it locked away, and now it feels like opening it is creating a physical pain in his chest.“Well I’m tired of trying too, if we’re only ever going to fight. Maybe we should stop trying to resurrect something that died a long time ago.” Jughead says, quietly, like all the fight’s gone out of him.Even though he’d already come to the same conclusion, it hurts to hear it out loud. “Maybe you’re right.”Jughead looks at him searchingly for a long moment, nods curtly, and leaves.Archie drops onto the couch, in shock.**Taking her earphones out for a moment, Josie hears raised voices and then hears a door slam shut. Given that she’s barely seen any other guests around here (a small town B&B is doing well to have two celebrity guests staying as long as they are), and the sound is coming from Veronica’s end of the hallway she assumes it’s likely come from her room.She hesitates. Should she intrude? Does Veronica want that, or would that be humiliating? Are they really good friends enough right now?She thinks about getting back to this very same small room last night, and crying into the pillow on her own until she passed out from grief and exhaustion, and is spurred to get up.She has to ask, at the very least.She knocks on the door. “Veronica? It’s Josie..I just – wanted to see if you were ok?”She hears nothing for a few seconds, and wonders if Veronica means her to leave.Then she hears the door opening.Veronica looks so, small. Small and completely devastated. Crying and not caring that it’s streaking her usually-perfect makeup.Seeing her like this almost makes her burst into tears again, but she holds it back. “Oh, honey,” she says softly, and hugs her. Veronica hugs her back tightly.“I’m so selfish, God. I’d like to say I wasn’t always like this, but come on. You know where I came from.” Veronica says bitterly, and her voice is croaky with tears.They’re sitting against the headboard of the bed. Josie’s wrapped her arm around Veronica, who is leaning her head on Josie’s shoulder. It’s comforting her too, being the only physical contact she’s had since yesterday. Since Cheryl. Thinking of it makes her really feel like she’s about to burst into floods of tears again.“That’s ridiculous, and you know it, V.” She chides Veronica, but not harshly. “You care so much about people. About your friends and your family. You’re not selfish.”“Sure, because selfless people just forget to tell their ex that they’re maybe engaged.” Veronica says wetly, in a very sarcastic tone.“You made a mistake, and it came out in a pretty bad way. That doesn’t make you evil.” Josie rebuts, hugging her a little more.“But mistakes still hurt people you love. Sometimes just the fact you did it is too much. I mean, you definitely know what I’m talking about. Would you forgive me in her position?” Veronica asks miserably.Josie doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t think she actually can. She’s trying not to go to pieces about it, throwing herself into Veronica’s – even though she’d ended up telling a very abridged version of what happened, to Veronica when she asked.She gulps. “I don’t know.”Veronica sniffles, and Josie passes her a tissue from the bedside table.“I’m sorry I wasn’t here yesterday. I was having dinner with my mom. You should have called me though,” She says empathetically.Josie shakes her head. “You have so little time to hang out with her anyway.”She hears a knock on the door.Veronica’s eyes widen a little, but then she shakes her head. “Not likely. Can you get it? I can’t face getting up.” She begs.Josie nods kindly, and gets up and opens the door. Somewhat unexpectedly, it’s Archie, looking worried and like he’s surprised to see her.The other anxiety bubbles up, that he’s for some reason still mad at her about when she saw him last at the farmers market. “Josie?” He says, and looks even more worried. “Are you ok?”“Are you still mad at me? Is that why you’ve been impossible to contact?” She doesn’t even mean to say all that, but she doesn’t lie to him.His expression becomes more guilty. “About yesterday? I totally forgot all about it – Jose, I’m so sorry, my phone died and it’s been a really hectic day.” He smiles, even though his eyes are still sad. “God, it’s good to see you though.”This is what finally causes her to burst into tears, even though it’s partly the relief. He instantly moves to hug her. “You too.” She mumbles into his shirt.**Archie had spent a few hours at his Dad’s house not moving, blankly watching daytime television when he’d realised he just wanted to see Josie.Dropping by the liquor store on his way to the B&B he bought a bottle of vodka, and on impulse seeing the small display at the counter, a block of chocolate. The server, a man he didn’t know, gave him a suggestive wink when scanning his items. “Special night, eh?”“You could say that.” If by special you meant, probably get drunk with your friend because you’re fucking miserable and can’t face going home and pretending everything is fine in front of your Dad and stepmother, then yes.Now, in the B&B carpark, he is briefly surprised to see Betty again. She’s crying though, and all she says to him when he asks is “I can’t, Arch. I can’t,” before getting into her car hurriedly and driving off.Looking back at the B&B he feels a pang of a guilt realising she must have been here to see Veronica, like he’d convinced her to do earlier. It was only this morning, but this day feels like it’s gone on for five years.He suddenly thinks of Veronica, who is probably in a similar state, and decides his problems are going to have to wait. He’ll drop in on her before Josie, who he hopes is here. He hasn’t actually texted her since...yesterday? It feels a weirdly long time.Knocking on Veronica’s door, it’s opened by Josie. For a moment he wonders if he mixed up their door numbers, but then he’s hit by how grateful he is to see her. And then he realises something’s wrong – she looks anxious and washed out and about five seconds from crying.At first he’s confused at why he’d be mad – until he remembers the farmers market argument. So much had happened since that he’d completely forgotten. He feels awful for making her worry though, his phone had died shortly after leaving Reggie’s.“God it’s good to see you though,” He says, with feeling. His heart’s taken a pounding but at least she’s here. He can get through anything with her.He doesn’t expect this to cause her to burst into tears, and he instinctively moves to comfort her. She hugs him back tightly. “You too.”“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? This isn’t about our argument, is it?” He says, having several ideas about what would cause her to break down like this. She didn’t cry easily, and she had always had a thicker skin than him, so it had to be pretty bad.She looks up at him. “Come in. I’ll tell you, but I’m also trying to comfort V.”“Yeah, I saw Betty leaving. Looked pretty bad.” He says quietly. “On the other hand now I have the perfect thing to comfort her.” He hands her the bag he put down.“How did you know –” she asks, seemingly clocking his misery.“I was going to ask if you wanted to drink tonight anyway, and I could catch you up, but apparently we all need this after today.” He says, with a weary chuckle. “You can come in, Archie, it’s ok.” Veronica calls out throatily, from inside.He doesn’t actually remember the last time he’d seen her look so small and utterly devastated. He walks over to her, and sits down, and looks at her, fully understanding how miserable she looks. It’s how he feels currently.“Hey, Ronnie. I was worried you were alone, good to see Josie’s here for you. What happened?”“Did you come to see if I was ok?” She asks, looking at him with red-rimmed eyes, appreciative in a vulnerable, private way. He nods, giving her a warm smile. She throws her arms around him, and he hugs her back. “God I missed you, Arch.” She says, muffled.“Missed you too.” He says quietly.Josie plonks down beside them, holding the bag with the vodka.“So I’m guessing we’ve all had a pretty shit day then.” He says, with a rueful half-smile. Josie and Veronica reply with similar weary sounds of acknowledgement. “But I got us hard liquor and chocolate as I was coming over.” “God bless you, Arch.” Veronica says emphatically.He looks at them. “I really would like not to be sober tonight. You in?”“Fucking hell, yes.” Josie says heartily.“I could definitely use a fucking drink, or seven.” Veronica agrees. She takes their hands. “Thanks for being here, guys. Means a lot.”“No worries.” Archie says, with an ironic smile.“Misery loves company. And what better company?” Josie adds.Josie stares up at the ceiling, vision blurring slightly. It’s late, but she doesn’t know how late. It doesn’t matter. They’ve danced and talked and now, in the manner of most drinking parties that happen in a smallish hotel room, they’ve sunk down to the floor. Some things just seem better there.“I think I made a huge mistake in coming here.” Veronica says slowly. “I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea in any way.”“You think you made a mistake?” Josie replies, only slightly slurry. “Except for Mel, everything about this trip has basically been an unmitag – unmitigated disaster for me.”Archie laughs, tiredly. “I’ve been thinking that for the last two days Ronnie, give or take, so you’re in good company.”Something occurs to Josie, and she hesitates to ask.“What does Jack think of you coming here?”Veronica turns her head to look at her. “Jack...he didn’t really get it. I told him I was mostly going to see my Mom, and catch up with some old friends. But he couldn’t wait to get out of his shitty little Nebraskan hometown, he’d never go back.” “I kind of thought that was how you felt about here.” Josie muses.Veronica looks up again, and sighs. “I know. At the start, definitely at the end, yes. But I got the invite, and I ended up being – curious to see how things had turned out here.”Josie makes an agreeing noise.“Speaking of, did you know Reggie has a bar now? Like, he owns it.” Archie says suddenly.Veronica chuckles. “Why am I not surprised?”Josie isn’t surprised either. “I’m guessing it’s nicer than that skeevy local.”“Yeah, it’s pretty nice and modern-looking. I went in last night, and I was totally blindsided by the bartender being Reg. It was good to catch up, though.” Archie replies casually. Too casually, but then Josie’s distracted from her thinking by Veronica.“Why did you guys come, then? Or at least, what did you convince yourselves you were doing here?” Veronica asks slowly.Josie is quiet. She looks at Archie, who looks pained at the question. “We weren’t going to. We thought, why would we go to our small town high-school reunion, we’re too big for that.”Veronica laughs. “Same.”“But even just the idea of it, the invitation was just in the back of our heads for weeks, and we finally thought we’d regret it more if we didn’t at least go and try.” Archie continues for her, words twisted by irony.“But of course, we were so wrong. What a stupid idea.” She means to say it with a little humour, but it comes out smaller and more emotional than she intended. The events of yesterday, both Val and Cheryl have come crashing down on her again.Her vision blurs even more as she stares up at the ceiling, and she tries to blink away the starting tears.She feels Archie take her hand, without disagreeing. Veronica nestles her head on her shoulder comfortingly. “At least you tried.”“I just thought – I thought she’d changed,” she says, hating how small and choked up she sounds. “I thought she understood me. And it’s not even just what she asked, it’s that she could – see it hurt me and she didn’t stop asking. How could I ever trust someone like that?” Veronica pulls away to prop herself up on her elbow. “I have some thoughts, if you want to hear. But you might want another drink first. Arch?”“Please.”“Ok...” Josie says, looking at her suspiciously.Cups full once again with mini-bar coke and a generous helping of vodka, they sit against the side of the bed. Veronica turns to Josie, on her right. “If you’re not looking to hear anything but, yeah that sucks, I can do that.”Josie shakes her head. “No, tell me.” She may as well know now, even if she totally disagrees.Veronica smiles comfortingly. “Ok, well I’m going to have to be devil’s advocate here, but...you remember when I said that thing about feeling like you guys didn’t need me?”“Aw.” Archie says guilty, and puts his arm around Veronica. “I’m sorry about that.”Veronica smiles at him. “Ancient history.”Josie smiles, on the other side of her. He really is an affectionate drunk, which used to annoy her so much when they were younger, but was something she’d grown to love.Veronica turns back to her. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that – it doesn’t make it...ok. but you guys – the bond you’ve developed, that none of us were a part of, it can seem a bit...intimidating. Before we stopped hanging out, being around you guys was so weird for me, because I remembered being best friends with you both, separately; and then suddenly, every time I saw you it was like – you were closer, and more in tune with each other.’She is interrupted by Archie shaking with silent laughter. “I mean, we’d wanna be.” He gets out, and Josie can’t help giggling, and Veronica rolls her eyes but something about the ridiculousness of the joke sets her off too.“This is what I mean!” She accuses, still laughing. “And I’m clearly losing my tolerance if I’m finding your humour funny.”He looks mock-offended. “That hurts, Ronnie.”“And your point is?” Josie asks, prodding Veronica lightly.“My point is,” she says, grumpily rubbing her arm, “that even though she went about it in a shitty way, maybe, Cheryl was trying to understand if there was any chance that a possible second chance for you guys might be undermined by a different redhead? One that’s been your closest confidant, and the only person who’s shared the majority of your life for years since you broke up?”Put in Veronica’s sensible, friendly tone it almost sounds reasonable, but she can’t ignore the sense memory of nausea she has when she thinks of the fight, and the deeply buried things it dredged up. She told had told them the question Cheryl had so desperately wanted to know, but only one of them could really know why it hurt so much. She hadn’t been able to face going over it again with Veronica, even though she was sure she’d understand.“But why? She’s fucking known I don’t mess with boys since we were fifteen...it felt almost like a – denial of all that, to ask me something so, ridiculous.” She manages to get out, feeling the hurt and nausea rising again.Archie looks at her, understandingly, and reaches out his free hand to hers.“It’s not exactly a reasonable reaction, but she has been abandoned so much. I don’t think she meant to invalidate you.” Veronica sits up, putting an arm around her.Archie looks troubled. After a moment he says, “Look, it’s not that I don’t understand that, because believe me I do. But if you can’t stop... even when you know you’re hurting someone that you,” his breath hitches slightly, “that you, care about, then maybe you’re better off apart.”Josie squeezes his hand. Veronica leans into the crook of his shoulder and neck.“You don’t need to worry about me, I’m ok. It’s not like it’s as bad as you guys...It’s not like I lost an ex again.” He says, with a nod at Josie, dropping her hand to take another drink. Veronica gives Josie a subtle look.They drink quietly, together. She wishes that they could be completely open and honest, but adding Veronica, as much as they love her, to the mix means there’s things unsaid, unreflected on. Secrets one person knows about the other that the other doesn’t realise they know. Secrets another person can’t be told.After a while, Veronica says seriously, “Well, I think we have to address the elephant in the room,”Josie shares a confused look with Archie. Veronica looks at him. “That being of course, the hickey on your neck. Very highschool of you, Archiekins.” The slightly slurred way she says this is very endearing. Josie laughs, surprised, and notices it again.Archie smirks, looking half embarrassed and half pleased. She narrows her eyes, and suddenly an earlier thought she’d had makes sense, and her jaw drops. “No. You didn’t.” She says, and then he raises his eyebrows at her, and she remembers that Veronica’s not supposed to know, officially.Veronica looks between them. “Now you have to tell me who it was. C’mon Arch, I’m starved for entertainment!” She jokes, poking him.He makes a face. “It’s not that exciting, really.”“So it was someone in the bar, but it’s someone you both know. Maybe someone I know?” Veronica teases.“You could say so.” Archie smirks.She thinks about it for a moment. “Holy shit, Reggie?”He looks surprised, but he can’t help smiling, which is unexpected. “How did you – actually it’s probably because you usually knew stuff before I did – but when did you figure it out?”She cringes a little. “Ok, I was never certain, but I had an...inkling by senior year.”“What did I say? God, you worked it out before I did!” He says laughs, in a happy, drunken way, but also in the way that people laugh in spite of some bad event, some great unfairness. He squeezes her arm, and they can’t help laughing with him.“Reggie, really?” Josie teases him, making a face. “Dudebro football Reggie?”“Hey! Do I judge you, Josephine?” He says, stretching out the syllables. She laughs.“Hey, I get it, Arch.” Veronica says, patting him supportively, still laughing as she finishes her drink. “He’s a babe. And you had a – vibe. I feel you.”He snorts. “A vibe I was totally oblivious to. Although, now that I’m thinking about it...” This causes Josie and Veronica to laugh harder.“He was constantly touching your arms, in a bro-y way of course.” Veronica reminisces, laughing so much she slides down on the side of the bed.“The perfect cover.” Archie repeats, a memory only he has, and laughs. “I definitely can’t judge, I was way more of a mess.”Josie reaches over to pat him, somewhat clumsily, on the arm. The drinks are making yesterday feel distant and blurry, like it happened two years ago instead. “I think we all were.”“Not to be all Judy Blume on you, but I think that’s high school.” Veronica adds.Josie giggles, sinking down against the side of the bed.*Archie looks up into the ceiling. He’s glad that they turned the main light off at some point, it was starting to give him a headache.“So, what do you think...should we go home? I’m not sure I can face going to this fucking thing on Saturday, to be honest...” Archie says slowly. He feels tired in every inch of his body, but also weirdly too wired to pass out.They’ve reached the floor again. It’s weirdly comfortable.“Fuck no.” Josie says, next to him. “What do you think, V?”Veronica sighs. “I mean, I guess it seems like a...lost cause. We should just give up and run home...” She pauses, and looks at them.“But it just feels like...this can’t be the end. There has to be a, goddamn reason for us to have come here. I just...can’t accept going home with my tail between my legs.”“I think you’re getting confused with the movies you’re in. There’s no reason for this to end happily.” Josie points out sardonically.He has a sudden pang of emotion. “Josie’s right. You can try, but you can’t just make things better because you want them to be.”Veronica props herself up on one elbow to look at them both. “And you can definitely go home. But if we all had our way – without worrying about rejection, just honestly what is the thing you came here for? What would you give your last shot to, before admitting defeat?”He’s kind of stunned by the speech, and sees Josie is too.Josie sighs. “I don’t think I can see Cheryl again – and yeah, she was a reason for coming. But the main one...I would – I want to talk to Val. I need to apologise to her. Shit.” She frowns up at the ceiling.Veronica smiles empathetically. “Yes! Exactly.”Archie looks at her. “Well what would you do?”Veronica gets her “this is a tough one, but damned if it’s going to beat the sheer bloody-mindedness of Veronica Lodge” look. He smiles. He hasn’t seen it since the last time they took exams together.“Well, I think I have two options. Stay with Jack, go home, stick with the safe thing even though I’m pretty sure he’s cheating on me –“ She takes a breath. “Or, break off my engagement, and try to get Betty to forgive me. Which may well not work. And then I’d just have to spend the next year reading wild theories about why I broke off an engagement to my hot, funny movie-star fiancée who I will probably run into or have to work with again sometime soon.” She takes a deeper breath. “Right.”“As long as you’re making a decision. If I have any advice, it’s not to go after Betty before you have.” Josie says sagely.“Do you still love her?” Archie asks, looking at her.Her expression becomes softer and sadder almost immediately. “I didn’t know it until today, but God, yes. I’m not over her.”He loosely takes her hand. “Then you gotta decide that she’s worth the gamble. Even if she rejects you.”She smiles down at him. “When did you get so wise, Arch?”“I taught him well.” Josie pipes up, making them laugh.“So what about you?” Veronica asks. “What’s your last shot?”He drops his head back and sighs. “I’m not sure I have one.”He told them about the fights earlier, but left out the road trip being brought up – he didn’t feel like reliving that just for Veronica’s sake. Josie knew what had happened, of course.Josie takes his hand, quietly.“Are you sure you can’t just –” Veronica starts.“We pretty much called a time of death on our friendship. And it wasn’t even angry.” He says, trying and failing to sound apathetic. “He,” his breath hitches in his throat, and he turns into a cough, “doesn’t want to see me.”They’re silent for a minute or two.Then Josie sits up bolt upright. She looks down at him oddly. “I have an idea, but you’re gonna hate it.”This just makes him more curious. “Hit me.”She looks away, sighs, and back to him. “You have one more card to play, Arch. And I know you were probably never going to, but the worst has already kinda happened, hasn’t it? What else do you have to lose?”“What card? I don’t –“ Then what she means dawns on him. Oh. Just ‘that card’. He sucks in a breath. “He doesn’t want to see me anyway.”Josie grabs him by the wrists. “If I can go apologise to Val, you can tell Jughead. I think he deserves to know.”Veronica looks confused. “Tell him what?”“Oh just the truth... The fucking heavy painful, truth I’ve been hiding, even from myself, for years. But I – I have to do it. I’m going to have to tell Jughead that I –“ he can feel his throat tightening, but he pushes the words out, “- that I love him.”Veronica looks at him in wonder, mostly emotional and overwhelmingly proud. She takes his hand and squeezes it. Josie curls up next to him.“We can do this,” she says with quiet determination.Archie’s passed out on the floor next to Josie, but she and Veronica are still conscious. Talking about it all, even though they’re no less worried about what they have to do.“V, can I ask you something even though you can refuse to answer it?” Josie asks, slowly, as the thought comes to her.Veronica nods. “You can ask me anything, six-drink Veronica does not care,” she says sleepily.Josie chews her lip for a moment. “You’ve said a few times you’re pretty sure Jack’s cheating on you, but you don’t seem that bothered by it...”Veronica sags a little against the side of the bed. “Oh...that.” She turns her head to look at Josie. “I know, you must think I don’t care about him too much if I’m not even that...angry about it?”Josie shakes her head. “I get it, our worlds are weird for relationships. I just thought you’d be the kind of person busting his car windows and shit like that?”Veronica sighs. “It’s complicated with us. I love him, but not in the way I did when we first got together.” She smiles wistfully. “It was this insane, passionate bond. We just had this instant connection, and it was like –“ She breaks off, looking like she’s trying to capture the elusive perfect words to describe it. “Neither of us were the type at the time, for long-term relationships. He liked flings with models, and I enjoyed my freedom more than I liked dating, and then suddenly we got in each other’s heads and refused to leave.”Josie nods. She misses that feeling. It’s been so long since anyone’s made a real impression like that on her. “Always the way.”Veronica nods. “Exactly. He said there was something about me, he couldn’t forget, that he was falling for. And the thing I fell for, really, was him being honest with me. He knew his flaws, and he tried to be better. We both tried. But it’s been two years, and I accepted his proposal because I didn’t want to – lose our relationship. But I don’t know that it’s what either of us wants. I guess, in the end, I don’t see him cheating as proof he doesn’t love me, he just can’t help it.” She chuckles quietly. “Maybe neither of us can.”Josie puts her arm around her. “Wish I could say I hadn’t been there. I guess if you’re not feeling it now, it’s not likely to survive the rest of your life. Look at all of our parents. Fuck.”“That’s a good point. And horrifying, statistically.” Veronica replies, leaning her head on Josie’s shoulder.They sit quietly for a beat.“Josie, can I ask you something? I promise you can refuse to answer, but please don’t hate me, I’m not trying to hurt you, I’m just...trying to understand,” Veronica asks carefully, softly.Josie nods. “You did for me. I reserve the right not to answer it though.”Veronica slides her head off Josie’s shoulder to look at her. “I can understand that Cheryl asking you something like that is painful, because you fought hard for that identity, and you’re more brave about it than I’ve ever been...”Josie looks at her through a haze of confusion. “And...”“I just hate seeing you so devastated, and I got the sense that there was more to why her asking that hurt so much, and I guess if you wanna talk about it, if there were things you didn’t want to say with both of us around...” Veronica trails off again, looking tired and worried.Josie considers it, and realises she isn’t angry this time. She can still feel the feelings of misery and nausea that well up when she thinks of yesterday’s fight and the memories it stirred up, but she can tell this time that Veronica isn’t asking because she has to know.She swallows.“If you don’t want to –““No, I – I think you might, actually – be the one person I wanna talk about it with...” She cuts her off, speaking softly, staring ahead.Veronica takes her hand quietly, seemingly sensing it’s something that’s hard for her to talk about.“It is ridiculous that she asked me that. It shouldn’t have been something that she seriously entertained. But the other thing is, she’s always been...scarily good, at figuring out your secrets, before you want her to know. I felt so, uncomfortably stripped, in that moment.” Her voice starts to shake, and Veronica squeezes her hand.“It brought up some bad things.” Veronica looks sad, and sympathetic to her, and doesn’t ask for details but Josie continues anyway. n a way, it feels better to unburden herself with Veronica here than it did bringing it up for the first time in years in her fight with Cheryl. It feels like she’s lifting the weight of that off her back.“When we were twenty-one, we both ended up in relationships with this actor and actress, that started within weeks of each other. They were friends, you might have worked with them.” Josie almost wishes Veronica would guess, would love to talk about it with someone not in the middle of it, but she’s not drunk or bitter enough to out Natalie (and Adam for that matter) if she doesn’t know.Veronica looks so sorry already. Josie wonders if she looks even more pathetic talking about Nat than she feels like. “So, they also ended about a year later, within weeks of each other.” She can feel herself getting hot in her tears ducts again. “It was the first time we’d properly lost people we loved since leaving home, and it just...” She can feel her voice wavering again.“Oh, Jose.” Veronica says softly.Josie grips her hand a bit tighter and takes a steadying breath. “There was this night...” she gets out. “I’m sure you’ve had one. We got so fucked up, and the absolute worst thing,” she says, voice trembling, Veronica looking like she’s afraid she knows how the story ends, “the worst thing, is that I don’t know. I’m assuming from my memories at the start of the night, but I don’t fucking remember the rest.” She can feel herself crying already, silent tears rolling down her face.Veronica looks horrified, and Josie can see the glint of tears in her eyes in the late night-early morning gloom. She seems to have filled in the blanks.She opens her mouth and doesn’t speak for a few deadly silent seconds. “So you don’t – did you know if you two-“ she can’t finish the sentence and breaks off.Josie shakes her head. She tries to continue, even though she feels choked. “And I know it wasn’t like an... assault, like and I don’t know if anything happened but just thinking that it might have –“she can’t help breaking down at this, and Veronica throws her arms around her and hugs her tightly.“I’m so sorry, Josie.” She whispers, sounding choked up herself. It’s strange how cathartic it feels. Before this week she’d only ever talked about it with Archie and that was something that they necessarily had stopped talking about many years ago.“And he already had issues there, and the thought that – I might’ve done something to add to that, to hurt him –“ A heavy sob escapes her, and she takes a second to breathe.“He wouldn’t think that. It wasn’t deliberate for either of you.” Veronica replies immediately, unwavering in her support. “How did you...get past that?”Josie thinks, leaning into the arm Veronica has put around her. “It was...hard, at first. I didn’t want to see him. I took two weeks break, left our apartment and got out of L.A, before I got my thoughts in order.”She looks over at Archie, sleeping on a cushion they’d thought to put under his head after he passed out while they were lying on the floor at some point.She looks into the old curtains of the room, straight ahead. “I got home, and I decided if he was there I’d tell him that I didn’t think we could work together anymore.” She stops again, wiping at her eyes, unable not to relive the dread of that moment. “I think he’s not home, and then I hear this noise from the bathroom. I go in and he’s sitting next to the bath, and he looks so small. And shattered. And he’s sitting there, sobbing.” Veronica is crying silently, just thin tear tracks down her face, and she thinks for a moment, that she’s so glad this person never stopped having such care for them both.She looks at Veronica. “I think he’d had a panic attack that had become a breakdown, and he looked so bad. Like he hadn’t been sleeping, or looking after himself. I sat down next to him, not sure what I was going to say, and he goes ahead and says, ‘You have to get away from me Josie’”. She takes a breath that threatens to become a sob. “Just like that. Not in a ‘pity me, massage my fragile ego’ way, but like he honestly believed that. And he says, ‘You’ve worked too hard, don’t let me ruin your life, you have to get away from me.’ And he’s not looking for sympathy, he’s shrinking away from me. And then, he fucking looks at me and says, ‘There’s something wrong in me, and I think it’s making me ruin my best friendships by doing things like this.’” Veronica hugs her arm around her tighter.“Oh, Arch,” she says softly, looking over at him, face still damp with tear tracks.Josie hadn’t fully realised how much she’d needed to talk about this until now. She’d never wanted to tell her mother or any girl she was dating. She’d thought she could carry it on her own. “He kept apologising, saying he was fucked up, and then a ‘she fucked me up’ slipped out, and I couldn’t –“ Veronica gasps softly, and Josie swallows, determined to finish talking.“- I couldn’t leave him. I saw the both of us hurting, and not talking to each other, and I realised that maybe it could have been the end, if we’d kept our friends. But we were fucking all we had. We needed each other. So, we talked about it, finally, and there was a lot more emotions, but we managed to get back out of that darkness. But we don’t talk about it, and I haven’t thought about it in years, and then Cheryl – she took my deepest secret, and demanded to know it before I was ready to even face it again. So that’s why.” Josie breathes out, feeling oddly lighter“I bet you’re glad you asked,” she says, half-joking.Veronica hugs her again. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t fully understand when I was trying to give you advice.”Josie smiles softly, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t let you. I really needed that, it’s kind of been a shared secret between me and Arch for like six years now. Thank you, V.”Veronica smiles at her, warm if sad-eyed. “Thank you for being my friend again. We’ll be alright.”Josie nods. “I hope so.”*Josie wakes up, and wonders if Veronica put this blanket over her. She vaguely remembers putting a cushion under her head but not falling asleep.She’s tired, but not incapacitated. Years of tour bus sleep schedules and sometimes weird recording hours have given her an ability to function on only a few hours sleep better than the average person.She’s going to need a painkiller for this hangover though.She checks her phone. 8:08 am. Archie’s gone. She remembers finding a cushion for his head, after he’d passed out.She remembers their conversation last night clearly, even through the hangover haze, so she types out a text to him quickly. Good luck. With you no matter what. He texts back quickly. thanks, jose. fuck i’m more nervous than when we did cchlla the 1st time, & u remember how bad my nerves were!!She smiles at the memory, then starts writing a text to Mel. Hey are you free to have breakfast this morning? Then she goes to ransack Veronica’s bathroom for Advil.She sits in the cafe, and gets up to hug Mel when she comes in.“How’ve you been? I already ordered us coffees, if that’s ok.”Mel smiles. “As long as I get an espresso, I’m good. They have a professional machine at work, and they actually have a barista to make it for you. I’m accustomed to the good stuff now. I think I broke Pop Tate’s heart though, not drinking his coffee.”Josie chuckles. “I get you. Filter is hard to go back to. But yeah, what have you been up to?”Mel nods. “Mostly hanging out with my family. Harmony’s back, she just graduated from Columbia and she’s saving money to move out. It’s been really good to see her.”Josie beams. “Wow that’s so weird, my mental picture of your little sister is still at about twelve years old. Say hi to her from me, will you?”“Of course!” Mel says, like there isn’t a chance she wouldn’t. “Not to be insulting, but you look tired. Long night?”Josie closes her eyes for a second, and opens them. “Very. Lots of D&Ms. I haven’t had much sleep.”Mel nods, then gets a look like she’s remembered something important. “Oh, I haven’t asked you yet – how did it go with Cheryl?” she asks brightly.Josie is thrown for a moment, wondering how she knows, before remembering they’d been hanging out when she’d made the plans. It was only Tuesday night, not more than two and a half days ago, and yet it feels like a long time ago, somehow. Grief has a way of distorting time.She puts on a casual look. “It was ok.”Mel gives her a familiar, unimpressed look. “I know I haven’t seen you in a minute Josie, but I still remember what you look like when you’re pretending not to be bothered. What happened?”Josie smiles a little, caught out. “Ok, it – didn’t go like I would have – wanted.” That’s an understatement.Mel gives her a sympathetic look. It’s small, not pitying. Josie remembers again all the times she confided in her, and why she was such a good friend. It hurts, but at least they’re talking now.“I’m sorry Josie. Maybe it’s salvageable?” she asks kindly.Josie shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so,” she says, tight-voiced. “Anyway, that’s not important now. I saw Val on Wednesday, at the market.”Mel looks caught. “Ah.”Josie frowns slightly. “It’s alright, you can tell me she already told you.”Mel sighs, sounding relieved. “She may have...mentioned it in passing,” she says, carefully.Josie looks at her, determinedly. “Look, it’s not like I expect her to – want to be friends again, or anything, but I want –“ she breaks off for a second, “I need to apologise to her. C’mon Mel, you have to help me, please.”Mel looks worried. “Ok, I was certainly touched that you apologised to me, even though I didn’t really need to hear it. But, have you asked yourself why? Because if you’re just doing it so you can go back to Los Angeles not feeling like a shitty person, I’m not sure you should.”She had forgotten how matter-of-fact Mel could be, but it had always been something she loved. She was a great person to get advice from.The barista delivers their coffees in the emotional quiet that follows.She looks at the coffee, where the barista has done a heart design on the top. Of course. She looks back at Mel, already feeling a wave of emotions threatening to crush her. She gets a hold of it, and speaks. “I can’t say it’s not a little bit selfishly motivated. I can’t help it, I want to try and talk things out with her before I go. But I’ll tell you this – I came here, really, for you girls. Hoping you’d forgive me. Because there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret being the reason I lost my best friends.”Mel looks misty behind her glasses, and she takes them off to wipe at her eyes discreetly. She looks at Josie before she puts them back on. “Really? Not for Cheryl?”Josie sighs. The name alone is enough to make her feel like she’s inhaled razorblades. “I was angry at her, so it was easier. But you two, I felt like I had to at least try, because I hurt you both, and even though I know you say it doesn’t matter I still did it.”Mel looks around, and shakes her head. “Damnit, ok fine I’ll help you. I can’t promise you it’s a good idea, but if you make sure to say stuff like that...”Josie smiles gratefully, feeling dangerously close to tears again. She’s been doing more crying this week than in the last year, it’s ridiculous.*Archie’s heart hammers as he sits in the back of the cab. He’d decided that this time, it wouldn’t be a great start to show up panting, and probably then end up throwing up in a bush.He’s been listening to music the whole way, to calm his nerves. It isn’t fully working, but he’s so nervous he feels like he could throw up, even without jogging three or four miles. I’m the one that’s acting like I’m so strong, you’re the one that’s acting like nothing’s wrong. He’s barely slept, waking up before the girls did. He sat outside chain-smoking until he came up with a plan. Can we skip the charades, and just speak plain? Too soon, he’s at the address. He looks at his phone. 8:15 am. Hopefully he hasn’t left for work yet.He rushes up the stairs, both dreading reaching the front door and wanting to race to it.It’s not a truth he’s often allowed himself to think, but now it’s been suggested he actually do something about it, he can’t imagine even waiting till the end of the day. It’s too big, too important.He gets to the door, and hesitates for a moment. What if Jughead won’t even let him in? But this becomes a moot point, when the door opens without him knocking.Archie’s heart jumps. Jughead doesn’t see him for a second, holding a piece of toast in his mouth and looking for something in his bag. When he does he shrinks back, looking startled and almost drops the toast.He takes the triangle of toast in hand, and then his expression becomes more annoyed. “I really don’t have the time or energy to fight with you right now Archie, I’ve gotta get to work. Anyway, I thought we worked that out yesterday.”The bitter way he says the last sentence hurts, but Archie pushes on regardless.Keeping eye contact, he says “I know, I know what we said. But I have something very important that I need to tell you.”His heart is hammering so much it feels like he did run all the way from the B&B.Jughead looks confused and suspicious. “Right at this moment? I’m literally about to leave.”“I won’t stop you. But this – I couldn’t wait till 4:30.” Archie says, words falling out over each other in haste.Jughead looks completely confused, and narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You look pretty wild right now, are you...on anything?”He’s taken aback and then remembers that his hair is probably a mess, and there are bags under his eyes. He’d almost forgotten to change, but passing a mirror, remembered he’d been wearing the same thing since Wednesday and changing might leave a better impression.“No! I haven’t had a lot of sleep in the last forty-eight hours, been thinking about things a lot. I should really be sleeping. But I had to come here.”Jughead nods slowly, looking like he still doesn’t understand. “Ok, you’ve got five minutes total before I really have to leave.”Archie can feel a panic attack bubbling, but he attempts to push it down. He takes a deep, steadying breath. “Ok, I’m not a big speech-maker, but...I’ve been wondering why we keep fighting, why we can’t go back to how things were. When we were friends, and I realised it’s because things changed –“Jughead makes a derisive sound. Archie pushes on determinedly, feeling like if he doesn’t get this out he’s never going to.“- I know that seems obvious, but they changed before I left. I was so afraid then, but I’ve got nothing left to lose now.”Jughead frowns bitterly.The panic is edging in, but he takes another breath. “What I’m trying to say, what I should have said a long time ago, is that – I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time, and I didn’t realise it until it was far too late. But I know now, I love you so fucking much it’s been haunting me for ten years.”Jughead gapes at him, stunned speechless. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- We could be gigantic, everything I need, vicodin on Sunday nights. We could be worth the risk, just give me a try – Just Give Me A Try, The Wombats Archie waits for Jughead to say something. He looks frozen in place. Then he closes his mouth. Then after a moment opens it again. “What the actual fuck, Archie?” Archie is taken aback. Of all the possible outcomes to this that he’d thought of this morning, he wouldn’t have put money on that one. “What?” He asks, confused as to what he’s done now. Jughead’s face works itself furiously into disbelieving anger, and he opens and closes his mouth several times before anything with sound comes out. “This might be peak you, Christ...you think you can just come back here and interrupt my whole life, you and Josie and Veronica sweeping in here with your celebrity drama and upsetting my friends, when they were fine, and were all fine...” Jughead breaks off, gesturing speechlessly. “And you come to my place after telling me only yesterday that all we ever do is fight, and our friendship is over, and then you, you tell me...this?” He sounds almost hurt as he spits out the last word, which is mystifying to Archie. You’d think he’d told him he had always secretly hated him instead. He wants to say “well actually, you’re the one who said our friendship was dead”, but he can’t speak right now. He can’t quite believe it. It’s rare that thing you’re dreading somehow goes worse than the worst scenario you pictured. He can definitely feel the panic attack taking over, and he can’t push it down. Somehow, they’d always worked out their issues, they’d always gotten past it, but this was it. All the cards had been played and he’d still lost. It was really over. Which meant he’d been building this up for years, and it really was just one-sided. God, this was humiliating, and it hurt. Somehow he was frozen to the spot, though, still looking at Jughead. “God, you’re not going to say anything about that?” Jughead says frustratedly, angry and hurt looking. He summons the last tatters of his courage and looks him in the eye. “I already said it.” It doesn’t come out as venomously as he would have liked, but hollow and devastated is all he can really manage, and he unsticks his feet and runs. He runs aimlessly, just trying to get out of public, until he finds an empty park, and leans against a tree as the panic attack fully envelops him. * Mel drives them over, and Josie watches the trees outside anxiously. It feels almost like déjà-vu. The number of times they’d driven over to pick up Valerie for band practice, together, listening to Beyonce, laughing, watching this same scenery go past the windows. This time, Mel has her phone plugged in and tuned to some old-indie internet radio station, playing some vaguely familiar indie-folk pop song from decades ago. She briefly wonders where she knows it from. An advertisement, maybe? Sleepless long nights, that is what my youth was for. Old teenage hopes are alive at your door, left you with nothing but they want some more “God, what are we listening to Mel?” She asks, scoffing. Mel chuckles, looking at the road. “I know, I know, but I’ve gotten really addicted to this station. Even though they play a lot of songs with folksy instruments, which is not something I ever thought I’d be into. The boyfriend loves playing it at work, so it’s gotten into my head.” Josie grins. “This is some white nonsense.” “His mother’s actually Indian, so I’ll thank you to take that back,” Mel says, with a laugh. “Ok, I take it back.” Josie replies with a smile. “And don’t think I didn’t snoop on your music library last time, I’ve seen the Mumford and Sons albums you have.” Mel adds wickedly. Josie groans. “Ugh I’ve been found out! We met them at a festival once, they were actually really nice. And I blame Archie. He got me into it on this roadtrip once. High school me is judging me so hard.” “Well, high school you also didn’t have your experiences or know everything.” Mel contends. Josie looks out at the passing orange-leaved trees. “She just thought she did.” Those teenage hopes who have tears in their eyes , too scared to own up to one little lie * Josie follows Mel up the path to the little blue house. Flowers have been planted on the sides of the path, allowed to grow out of neat patterns, looking wilder; creepers of jasmine crawl up the left side of the house. Mel knocks on the door, and motions for Josie to stay back a bit. Val opens the door smiling, her son on her hip. “Hey, it’s Aunty Mel!” She tells her son happily. Then she sees Josie and her face falls. “What – Mel, what is this?” She says shortly. “C’mon, she just wants to talk.” Mel counters. Val purses her lips. “Well I’m sorry she came all this way, but I don’t want to talk.” Josie stands behind them, feeling weirdly like a child again. Her parents used to talk about her like this, towards and after the divorce, like they forgot she could understand them. Mel frowns. “Look, I think you need to talk to each other. As your friend, Val, I’m asking you to just give her a few minutes to say what she came here to say.” “So you guys are fine, then? You forgave her pretty quick, Mel.” Val says, sounding hurt without raising her voice, probably for the benefit of her child, currently looking around obliviously. “I’m not telling you not to be mad, Val, but I’m an adult, and that means I can forgive who I want.” Mel replies, with a slight frustrated edge to her voice. Val says nothing, the full force of her annoyance coming through in her stare, even though she refuses to look directly at Josie. Mel sags, like she’s softening. “Val, you know I’d never do anything that I thought would hurt you. I wouldn’t do something like this unless I felt like it was going to be a good thing. I’m asking you as your friend, just hear what Josie has to say. I’m not telling you how to react but just – listen.” Val gives her an exasperated look, and then sighs. She looks at Josie for the first time. “Come in, then.” Josie, surprised to be addressed finally, nods awkwardly. “Thank you, Val,” she says, and follows Mel onto the porch, and into the house. “You’ve moved the coffee table?” Mel notes, and there must have been one before – now there’s just a big open, carpeted space next to the couch and some children’s toys spread out next to it. “Jimi’s just starting walking, and we don’t want him to hurt himself bumping into the sharp edges.” Val says, settling the boy in question down next to some coloured blocks. “Jimi,” Josie repeats, inadvertently. “Yeah.” Val says quietly, still settling him in. Giggling, passing the joint between each other, lying on the floor of her dad’s study. Val’s house has a much chiller vibe than her own, probably because her parents are kind of hippies – at least not how she imagines professors to be, even in the arts. Her Dad has an amazing record collection, and he’s out, so they can play music loudly. ‘All along the watchtower, Princes kept the view, While all the women came and went, Barefoot servants, too” Val gestures vaguely at the air. “God, I wanna do that. If I have a son, I’m going to name him Jimi, out of respect.” Josie laughs. “Bleugh, I’m never having children. Especially not a son. There are too many in the world already.” Val cracks up. With Jimi settled, Val turns to them. “Do you want coffee or something, then?” she says, almost like she’s saying it automatically, just to be polite. “I’m ok, thank-you.” Josie doesn’t accept because she’s already had one, and she’s already on thin enough ice without making Val pretend at hospitality. She also suspects that Val only offered because Mel is also here. “No, thanks Val – actually I gotta head off, Mom needs me to pick Harmony up, because they took the car out, and you know, she shares it with them when she’s here –“ Mel says quickly. Val frowns. “You’re not staying?” Josie shoots her a worried look. She looks a little uncomfortable, but says, “Uh, I can’t, I’m sorry. Harmony needs to be driven somewhere, and, sister duties and all. I’ll see you later, anyway.” Then she leaves, and they’re plunged into a very awkward silence, punctuated only by the occasional gurgling of a toddler stacking blocks. This is the moment to say something, if only she could remember the words she wanted to say. There was a whole lead-in. Nevertheless, every second that she’s not using to say her piece, Val is probably regretting inviting her in, so she just talks. “I came here, to say I’m sorry, Val. I’m so sorry,” she says honestly, the first thing on her mind. Val studies her, almost suspicious. Her face softens a little. “Ok. I forgive you for that.” Val still looks closed-off, uncomfortable. “But not for everything, I guess,” she persists. “What do you mean? I said I forgive you. I’m not mad.” Val replies quickly. The silence returns for a pause. This is not how it was supposed to go. “Val, I knew you for a long time, I know your I’m-not-mad-no-really face.” Josie continues. She knows it’s probably not the best way to not have an argument, but she would almost rather that then be pretend-forgiven, pretending everything’s ok again. “What are you looking for, Josie? What do you want to hear from me?” Val retorts, keeping her voice low. She stares at Val, who looks back in annoyance. “I wanted –“ she starts, unsure of what. “I want to try and fix things! I’m leaving here on Sunday, and I would – hate – to leave without talking to you, Val!” she tries to keep her voice low, which is hard when she’s keyed up like this. “Well you didn’t mind last time!” Val hisses back, and the hurt in her eyes viscerally reminds Josie of ten years prior, making her feel like she’s eighteen and standing in Val’s bedroom telling her again. Josie’s heart sinks. Even though she wanted to do this, it already hurts too much. It’s really not been long enough since the last heartbreak, and it hurts more. “I told you about it...I didn’t just leave...” she half-heartedly tries to defend herself. Val shakes her head. “Not in a way that counted. You never –” she breaks off, voice shaking. “- you told me as it was a done deal, as you were about to leave!” Josie looks down, and looks up again. “I’m – that was such a terrible thing to do to you. To both of you, but I know I got you excited at the idea of taking the band professional. I’m sorry, you meant so much to me and I have no excuse for going behind your back,” she sighs, feeling pinpricks of tears starting again. “I was – scared. Everyone had backup plans, and that was my only plan, my only way – out. I was afraid if I didn’t take it, all of that work, would be for nothing.” Val doesn’t say anything, and looks at her son, still happily arranging coloured blocks. When she looks back, her eyes are misty as well. “Look, I don’t care about that. Once yes, I got carried away with the idea that our little band could be more than just a small-town hobby.” Val says, and pauses, like she’s looking for the words. “But I don’t regret not becoming famous or whatever. I love my life – my job is great, and I have a son I could not love more, and a beautiful husband, and I wouldn’t have any of that if that guy had decided to sign us and take us to L.A.” Josie holds her breath. There’s a but coming up. Val frowns. “What really hurt, Josie, is that you didn’t feel like you could talk to me about it. You just told me like a day before that you were moving across the country! With Archie, who you didn’t even like that much! I thought we were better friends than that.” She looks away, and Josie sees her blinking. This only makes Josie want to cry more. “We were – you were one of the only people I trusted in this shitty town, I don’t know what I would have done without you!” “You still asked Cheryl to go with you.” Val responds unexpectedly. Josie is surprised, speechless for a moment. She’d learned a long time ago that it’s hard to keep secrets in small communities, but that was a very private moment and she briefly wonders if Cheryl told her. It doesn’t matter. “That was different... and I – I was desperate. I knew if I asked you I’d have to tell you what I did, and I was afraid of what you’d say because I knew you’d be right...would you even have come, if I’d asked?” she asks tenuously. Val brushes at her eyes again. “Probably not. You, me, and my ex-boyfriend? While I hang around watching you guys become famous? Would’ve been a bit too weird.” Val says, attempting and failing to sound truly flippant. “Well it’s not like she came with me. Karma was getting a head start.” Josie replies quietly. Val looks over at Jimi again. “So I guess you came to get her back, then? I can’t imagine you were just super keen to go to this reunion...” This is the thing that breaks the dam of tears for her, and she doesn’t bother to wipe them away. Val looks alarmed, then remorseful. “Did...something happen?” she asks tentatively. Josie shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. That’s not the reason I came back, I came back for you and Mel – God, I betrayed you guys, scared or not, and I’ve regretted hurting you guys every day for the past ten years. You were my first real friend here – you weren’t just my friend, you were my sister, Val – I loved you!” Val’s crying silently at this. “I loved you, too, Jose! That’s what was the worst thing. I missed you even when I was so damn angry at you. I used to wonder if you’d come back home, and maybe we could talk.” Josie shakes her head, still crying herself. “I missed you! But I was too scared. We left things in such a bad way, and we had so many distractions it was easy to say we were too busy to come back. And then too much time had passed and we got even more afraid. God, I wish I had.” “I wish you had, but at least you’re here now.” Val says, wiping her eyes. “I really missed you,” she says, embracing Josie in a tight hug. Josie hugs her back just as tightly, still crying softly into her shoulder. “Not more than I missed you.” Their hug is only broken by a tiny, soft little toddler’s hand passing at the edge of Josie’s dress, before passing on to grab at Val’s leg. “Hello!” Val says affectionately, looking at him with absolute joy. “Are you jealous of all the attention Josie’s getting? Up here, then,” she says, picking him up and putting him on her lap, heading off some dangerous-sounding whimpers. Even though she’s pretty sure she’s never going to have a child of her own, for various reasons, watching Val with hers she can’t help beaming. She knows Jimi will never be starved of affection from a parent, or at least one of them. “Sorry, he gets upset if he’s not the centre of attention at least once an hour. And that’s him on good behaviour.” Val jokes. Josie looks at him. She doesn’t love babies, because mostly they look like aliens, and she’s never met Val’s husband so she can’t judge for looks – but she has to admit that he’s a cute baby. “He has your eyes. Or at least – the colour. That’s unusual.” Josie realises out loud. Val nods. “Yeah we weren’t expecting that, it’s supposed to be a recessive gene. My Dad likes to say it’s something to remember him by.” She smiles at this, and presses a kiss to Jimi’s head. Josie smiles. “Sounds like your Dad. So, this mysterious husband, do I know him?” Val beams, and looks excited. “That is a story.” “Well, I’m not going anywhere.” Josie says, “Go ahead,” “Ok, so you remember senior year when I had a crush on that guy...” *** Jughead drives to work, like usual. He tries to throw himself into writing, putting his headphones on and listening to music in the hopes he can distract his brain into working. It doesn’t work. He stares at the screen blankly, and doesn’t take any information in. He can’t quite get the look on Archie’s face out of his mind, how anxious he was, how...taken aback, he looked. Why was he surprised? What did he expect? He focuses on the screen until it’s just pinpricks of light, blurring into each other, making his eyes hurt. He shakes his head, and gets up to make a coffee. Maybe that’s what he needs. He works like a zombie, doing work that he doesn’t even remember. Getting up to make another coffee, mainly for something to shake his brain up, he sees Betty in the break room. “Betty, I didn’t see you come in.” He says, surprised. “Well you were pretty focused, I didn’t want to interrupt.” She replies, but not unkindly, as she makes her own cup of coffee. “How are you feeling? I thought you weren’t coming in today?” He asks, concerned. Kevin and he had spent last night hanging out with her, consoling her after the disaster yesterday had apparently been for them both. She smiles over-brightly, a look he’s very familiar with, the patented Betty Cooper “of-course-everything’s-fine-nothing’s-the-matter” look. “Of course not. Silly thought. I’ve got work to do. And I can’t just sit around my apartment, thinking about...” She trails off, and turns back to finishing her coffee. “Betty...” He says quietly, concerned. She turns back to him, smile a little less bright. “I’m ok, really. I’m tough. And I have great friends, who drop everything to make me feel better when I’m sad.” He smiles at this. It’s small, but it’s genuine. “Well I’m always there for it.” She looks closer at him. “How are you though? You were looking kind of unfocused when you came in.” He sees Archie’s face in that moment, but pushes it away. “Ah, just didn’t get time to make coffee this morning yet. I’m dying.” He lies, but she seems distracted enough to accept it. * “Jug? Jug, Hello?” He suddenly realises Betty’s voice beside him, and looks around. He blinks. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. What were you saying?” She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Kevin and I are getting lunch, might be nice for you to come with us.” He shakes his head. “No, uh, you go without me. I’ve gotta catch up on...” he gestures vaguely at the computer screen. She squints at his screen. “Yeah, I think you might need the break anyway. Come on.” He shakes his head, but grabs his bag and puts on his jacket. * They’re at the cafe, at a table outside per Betty’s preference, but the early chill already creeping into the November air has driven all the other customers inside. He can’t focus on the conversation. He can’t focus on anything today. It sort of makes him angry, but the righteous fury he felt earlier has mostly subsided, leaving in its dregs only shock, confusion and the beginnings of guilt. He zones back in on Betty saying, “You have to tell Jude thank-you from me for sharing you, he’s been very understanding.” Kevin smiles at her, warmly. “Yeah, he’s been very good about it. But if I never get to see my friends, then what’s the point?” He pauses. “It has been interesting, though, having to explain all of the high school drama to someone who didn’t grow up with us.” Betty grimaces. “Yeah, I can imagine,” she pauses to drink her coffee. “So is Cheryl back at work?” He realises this is something he cares about too. “Yeah, how is she?” He jumps in, and they both look mildly surprised he’s rejoined the conversation. Kevin looks sympathetic. “She’s back at work. Said that time she broke her arm didn’t stop her from coming in, so why should a broken heart?” Betty frowns slightly, looking down. “You were with her Wednesday night, right? Is she...doing better?” Jughead asks Kevin. From what he’d told them yesterday, it had been pretty bad. Kevin nods. “We had a long talk, I think she’ll be ok,” he sighs. “I have no idea how she’s going to deal with this reunion though. What a nightmare.” Both Betty and Jughead make similar derisive noises of assent. “I don’t think I’m going to that, surprisingly.” He says, with a heavy note of sarcasm. Betty stirs her coffee absent-mindedly, frowning. “I said I’d help Cheryl set up, and hand out name badges. I am regretting that promise right about now.” “Maybe you can sneak out early?” Kevin suggests, with a sympathetic smile. He had only agreed to come after Cheryl had cajoled him, when he’d mentioned he wasn’t thinking of going. “You must though. You must. You must!” She kept repeating until he finally realised she wouldn’t listen to any disagreement and gave in out of exhaustion. Betty had said, “You can hang out with Kevin and I, it’ll be fun!” and some small petty part of his mind was bitterly satisfied to have been proved right that it was going to not be fun at all. Because there were two equally unappealing options. One, For some inexplicable reason Archie, Josie and Veronica would show up at their high school auditorium full of the high school students they left in their dust years ago, and at least three people they really didn’t want to see and it would be horribly public and awkward; or Two, more likely, they’d have already packed up and gone back to their world. They could dismiss it as a mistake, a ridiculous whim they’d had and forget all about it, while Jughead, Betty and Cheryl would be left here again, having had their lives upended again, facing the gossip of their ex-school cohort wondering why those amazingly famous old friends of theirs had come to town especially for the event and then up and left mysteriously. “Jug? Earth to Jug?” He realises Betty’s talking to him, and he blinks and looks at her. Both she and Kevin are looking at him, oddly. “Sorry, I spaced out.” He replies, but Betty gives him a concerned look. “You’ve been spacing out all morning, what’s going on with you? Did something happen? I tried to tell Archie yesterday he should give it another shot after your fight...oh no, what happened?” She says, with some disappointment. How to answer that one? He still didn’t know what to think about it himself. His pause in trying to think of the right way to describe it only seems to make both her and Kevin more worried looking. “Uh, well he did contact me trying to make up the fight, on Thursday.” He says carefully. “But?” Betty prompts. He looks away. “We fought again.” He looks back. “Actually we decided that if we only ever fight, than what’s the point in trying to fix it? It’s not like it matters, he’s going to go home, and if we can’t stop fighting when we’re in the same place...” He breaks off, wordlessly frustrated. Betty sighs softly. “Why didn’t you say anything yesterday? You let me go on and on about my stupid problems all night, I would’ve cared to know about yours.” “You’re my friend too, Jug, I didn’t mean to leave your problems out.” Kevin adds, still looking concerned. He shakes his head.”Don’t worry Kev, it’s fine. Well it’s not – I just wanted you to feel better, Betts. I didn’t want to burden you with the same repetitive drama, verse eighty-seven same as the first and all that.” Except for this morning. Which was a completely different song, in a different language. “Aw, Jug. You should have said something anyway.” Betty says, empathetically. “Well, I’m sorry anyway, Jug. It’s a shit situation.” Kevin pronounces, and Jughead is suddenly grateful to have him there. Not that he hadn’t been happy to see him, but just to have his sympathetic-but-matter-of-fact attitude to comfort is making him feel a little better. Betty’s too good at her job, and squints in puzzlement, thinking. “You weren’t like this last night though. Did something happen after you left or...before work or something?” His stomach drops. She’s going to ask until she finds out now. But maybe the reason he can’t focus on anything today is because he’s trying to work through what happened with only his own input, like trying to play a game against yourself – you’re never challenged, and you’re not satisfied until you can get someone to play against you. It’s why he preferred reading – it’s much less pathetic looking to be doing something designed for a single person than to be playing handball by yourself against a wall. He realises he wants to ask her opinion about it, if only so he can move on and get his brain back. Then he registers Kevin, and hesitates. Then he thinks about it, and realises if anyone has an insight to it, it might just be him. They’re both looking at him, both concerned. “Yeeaah...” He says slowly, wondering whether he should just shut up already. Now both Kevin and Betty look a little confused. Maybe he looks weird right now. If he does it’s because he’s trying to figure out how to put it. He looked between them, and then looked down at his empty coffee cup. “So I thought, maybe Archie might decide to go back home. It’s not like Josie wouldn’t have reasons for wanting to leave town. I kinda convinced myself that they probably did, and I wasn’t likely to see him again anytime soon.” He looks at them, and they’re confused, definitely still concerned, but unmistakably curious too now. “So I’m leaving for work, and I’m already going to be late, and he’s outside my apartment. Looking like – just like he hasn’t slept, and his eyes are red, and his hair’s a mess. My first thought was that he was on something, but he was totally sober.” He’s filling up the space with words, stalling, afraid to rip the bandaid off. Betty and Kevin look gripped, like they know it’s not the same fight, like they know something’s changed but they don’t know what. He has no idea what they’ll say. “So he says he really needs to talk to me, that he has something important to tell me.” The memory floats to the surface of his mind again. The words beat a tattoo in the back of it. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyousofuckingmuchiloveyou “And?” Betty asks, and then looks guilty about it. He gulps. This was a stupid thing to bring up. He can’t deal with this right now, he needs to get back to work soon. “And he...told me he loved me.” He says faintly. Betty and Kevin’s jaws drop in unison. They’re all quiet. “Well, shit.” Kevin says, stunned. “Like, just to clarify because I’ve been burned before, not like love you like a brother, in a platonic bro way?” Jughead opens his mouth, then closes it. “The words in love with you were used, so I think...” he trails off. Kevin nods, mouth still slightly ajar. “Well, I never...thought he’d say it. Wow.” Kevin says, almost to himself. He looks at Kevin sharply. “You did not know this.” Kevin looks at him apologetically. “I did not. I had...an inkling. A hypothesis.” When he doesn’t reply, Kevin continues, looking genuinely contrite. “Call it a small town queer thing. I know you know what I’m talking about, Jug. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was making fun of you though.” He nods his forgiveness, knowing it’s not really Kevin making him anxious. “Fair enough, I guess.” He looks at Betty, who has been quiet. She looks like something has occurred to her, and not as surprised as he would have thought. She looks at him, puzzled. “So, what did you say?” He looks down, and then up. “I might have...yelled at him a bit. A fair bit.” In the moment he had felt incredibly justified but now he just felt awkward and confused about it. It was like being seventeen all over again. Betty sighs, and gives him a look he would describe as her “I’m-not-mad-I’m-just-disappointed” look. In another universe where she hadn’t been destined to be a journalist, she would have made a great elementary school teacher. “Can I ask...about what?” she says carefully. He sighs. “I don’t know. I know that at the time I was furious, but –“ He breaks off. “You know I’m not good with surprises!” Kevin nods. “That’s true.” He shakes his head. “I just know that I was angry because it was so far out of the realm of what I was expecting...I thought we were done! As friends! And he - and they just came into town, upending all of our lives in less than six days, and hurting my friends and I just –“ Betty reaches over to take the napkin he’s been absent-mindedly shredding out of his hands. “I’m not going to pretend that – I don’t wish that certain people hadn’t decided to get their nostalgia fix watching old movies instead of – “ she breaks off, and Kevin takes the even-more shredded napkin off her. She takes a breath, and looks at him. “It’s so nice, that you’re angry on my behalf. But you don’t need to fight my battles for me. Especially not if you’re doing it to avoid thinking about why you’re really angry.” He considers it, and his heart sinks as he realises she’s right. “Fuck.” This is what he’d needed to tell someone for – because he couldn’t see past it himself. Under the anger, was the fear. He is starting to feel slightly panicked. “Well I guess it doesn’t matter now, I pretty much put a stop to anything.” He says, trying to be flippant, but not feeling it. Betty frowns. “Don’t say that – have you tried to talk to him since?” “He literally ran away from me as fast as he could, I wouldn’t be surprised if he got onto the next flight to L.A.” He retorts, feeling annoyed but knowing it’s not at her. “But you don’t know!” “But it doesn’t matter!” “Do you love him, though?” Kevin cuts through their argument matter-of-factly. He gives Jughead a knowing look. “Or I should say, do you still love him?” That shuts them up both up. He tries to reply but finds his throat dry. He takes a sip of water. Betty and Kevin watch him closely. “i – I – yes.” He croaks out. Kevin gives him a fierce look. “Then you need to tell him.” “I can’t –“ He says quietly, panicked. “He won’t –“ They’re inching closer to the baseline fear he’s been ignoring, not thinking this whole time. “Everything’s pretty bad for me, and Cheryl, but you have a chance Jug.” Betty interjects suddenly, sadly. “Don’t you want to just see?” “I can’t!” He bursts out. “I can’t – tell him that if he’s just going to leave again. It really will kill me.” Betty looks at him so sadly, with so much empathy, it hurts and he looks away. After a few moments silence, Kevin speaks. “You’ll do what you’re going to...but take it from me, it’s usually worth letting someone know, even if they leave, than not saying it, and spending the rest of your life wondering what might have happened.” This hits him like a smack in the face. Or a bucket of a ice water emptied over a drunk man. “You’re pretty wise, Kevin.” He says, with shaky humour. Kevin smiles. “I know. I’m constantly underestimated.” This makes him smile, a little. Betty smiles at him, reaching out a comforting hand to cover his. “I have to go back to work, I have some things to think about. Thanks, both of you, for dragging me out to lunch.” He says, looking at them. “Always here for you, don’t forget that.” Betty replies. “Anytime.” Kevin says, smiling. * Sometime after she gets back from lunch, Penny stops by Betty’s desk. “Have you filed that story yet? Just trying to get a time frame.” She says briskly, but not unkindly. She’s a good boss, experienced from years working at a larger paper in Lake Charles, lenient without being a pushover. She smiles apologetically. “Just doing that now.” Penny nods. “Good to hear. Also, I was going to email you but I’m here now – your leave for Monday the 23rd is approved. I mean you barely have to ask of course, Betty, you barely ever take a sick day but you know how it is, gotta do the thing properly.” She smiles at Betty. Betty nods in agreement. “Checks and balances, I know.” “Exactly. Well, I won’t keep you.” Penny says decisively, and walks off. Her mind races, thinking about it. Before this week it had seemed like a tentative possibility, something in the future in the back of her mind and then suddenly it’s all actually happening. If she wants it too. She can’t quite decide if she does or not. “Betty, hello?” she realises Jughead’s talking to her and she swings around to face him. “Sorry, just thinking.” He smirks. “And you call me spacey. What’s happening on the 23rd?” She looks at him, confused, and realises that he of course overhead her conversation earlier. She feels a jolt of panic. “Uh, I have an appointment. A dental appointment.” She amends quickly. He raises his eyebrows. “You need all day?” She continues on with the lie, not ready to have the conversation right now. “I have to go to New York for it. It’s more of a specialist thing, I don’t think old Mr Edelstein really has the specific area of study for it.” It’s becoming a complicated lie, but that’s a problem for Future Betty to deal with. He looks concerned. “Sounds intense. Are you sure you don’t need me to go with you, and drive you back?” She shakes her head, a little too quickly, but it’s a knee-jerk movement. “No, I’ll be fine. I couldn’t take you away from work anyway.” He looks worried, and then gives her a knowing look. “Betty its ok, I know about the interview. And you forget you can’t lie to me.” She pales. That’s true. He knows her too well. “How?” she asks, stunned. He looks a little guilty at this. “I was over at your desk to steal your stapler, and I saw an email pop up from the New York Times. Interview was one of the words I glimpsed before the alert went away. I kind of put it together. I’m sorry for snooping, though it was kind of an accident.” She sighs, cringing. “If I forgive you for snooping my emails, will you forgive me for lying to you?” He narrows his eyes, not meanly but like he’s trying to assess her. “That depends. Why were you lying?” She looks away for a moment, feeling uncomfortable. “I don’t know. It’s kind of a big deal, and I wasn’t even really sure I was going to go – “ “What?” he breaks in, incredulously. “Why the hell wouldn’t you?” She gives him a frustrated look. “There are...reasons, to stay here,” she says, quietly, so she won’t alert half the office. She can’t seem to think of the right words. “I like this job a lot. And Mom, Polly, and the twins are here –“ He closes his eyes and sighs, like he’s figured something out. “And me.” She falters. “I mean, of course. You’re part of my family here.” He catches her eye. “Betty, please tell me you weren’t thinking of blowing this interview off to stay at the Chronicle with me.” He says wearily. “No, I just –” she protests, but at the bullshit-calling look he gives her, she gives up. “I just,” she looks at him, full of care for him, hoping he can feel that through her eyes. “It’s not fair. I promised to be here for you, I promised to be part of your family here! I refuse to be someone who breaks that promise to you. You’ve had enough of that.” He shakes his head and looks at her, seriously. “The fact you even think that means a lot to me, really, but that promise is old. It was comforting once, but it wasn’t supposed to lock you into staying here.” He sighs. “As your friend, Betty, I refuse to let you use me as an excuse if you’re too afraid to go for this.” She feels too emotional for being at work. “But it’s a big shift! And I’d miss you and everyone so much. And what if I’m not cut out to live in the city? Not to mention, I might not get it, so this could be a totally moot –“ “Do you want the job?” he asks, simply. She thinks about it. “Yes. I really do,” she replies, feeling somehow guilty. He smiles. “Then stop freaking out about it, and go for your interview, and if you get it – which I’m sure you will – then you take it from there. It’s not like New York’s that far away anyway.” She smiles gratefully at him. “Have I told you today what an incredibly decent person you are, Jug?” His face clouds. “No, but I’m not so sure anyway.” She looks at him, wondering again if she’ll be able to leave him, if it stays like this. “I know it. But my advice – listen to that album. Might provide some insight. Maybe.” He looks at her like he hadn’t thought of that. “Thanks, Betts. You’re gonna knock ‘em dead in New York, you know that right?” She smiles, feeling a huge weight off her shoulders. * Jughead decides he may as well give up and go home early. He was barely keeping focus on anything before lunch but he’s been looking at his screen for hours since Betty’s suggestion, and he hasn’t absorbed a thing or been able to complete any meaningful amount of work. “I’m going home, I think. Penny said I could leave whenever as long as I have my article in by Monday night.” He says to Betty, logging his computer off. She smiles at him. “Alright, have a good night. I guess I’ll see you Saturday?” He grimaces. “Please don’t make me go, I’m going to hate it.” She looks at him beseechingly. “Jug, you’ve gotta go to keep me sane! I promised Cheryl I’d help, and I really don’t want to blow her off right now. C’mon, for your best friend?” He sighs, overdramatically. “Fine, I’ll go. But I won’t enjoy it!” “That’s the spirit!” she says, smiling as she turns back to her computer. * Jughead drives down Main Street, and sees the Blossom & Keller Event Planning office coming up ahead. Kevin’s words about Cheryl float through his mind and he instinctively slows down and finds himself parking outside. It’s probably unnecessary, and she’ll probably give him that look, but he suddenly feels like he should at least – check in on her. They are friends, after all. It’s not like his other friendships with Betty and Kevin, but then again neither are those like each other. He makes up his mind to get out and at least try and see how she is. He walks in, and is greeted by the receptionist. “Hi! Do you have an appointment, or...” she says nicely, even though she looks like she’s confused as to why he’d be looking for their services. Or maybe he’s just being paranoid. Gotta love that poor kid mentality – you never really get out of it, even when you have a job, an income, a roof over your head, it just stays with you. Is that maitre’d judging the clothes he’s worn to a fancy restaurant? Is that shop assistant pursing her lips because he came into an upmarket boutique with Betty? Is it just memories from longer ago superimposed onto normal situations by his anxious mind? “Uh, no I was just hoping to see Cheryl? I’m a – a friend of hers.” He asks inelegantly, but she nods. “And who should I say is asking?” she asks. He sighs internally. “Just say...Jughead’s here.” If the receptionist is fazed by this odd name, she doesn’t let it affect her professional manner. “Jughead. Ok, I’ll try and see if she’s free.” The receptionist hesitates, and then says in an undertone, “She’s in a bit of a...mood, right now, just a heads up.” He nods. “I went through twelve years of school with her, I’m prepared,” he says conspiratorially, making the receptionist smile guiltily as she dials Cheryl’s line. After talking to her for a few seconds, the receptionist hangs up and smiles kindly at him. “She’s not with any clients currently and she says she has a few minutes.” “Thanks.” He replies, walking into the office. Cheryl’s office is at the back, and the office workers don’t pay him much attention as he walks past them. Walking past a glass-walled meeting room, he sees Kevin’s in a meeting with what he assumes are clients. He knocks on Cheryl’s door. She doesn’t answer but he can hear her on the phone to someone. Still, she knows he’s here, so he opens the door. “No, they can’t be at the same table. Why? Because it will cause an international incident – do you think I’m joking? Do you want to be responsible for an international incident? Do you want that to be on you?” He feels bad for whoever’s on the receiving end. She sees him and nods. “Good, then fix it!” she barks into her phone, and hangs up. Although he would never say it to her, she looks tired. Her hair is up in a businesslike ponytail, her vibrant hair as polished-looking as ever, matching her burgundy turtleneck. She had never been the sort of person to stop making an effort externally, even if she ached internally. But he knows her well enough to see the swelling is going down in her eyelids, sadness hidden by extra application of makeup, red lipstick like a shield. She regards him. “I confess, I’m a little confused about the reason for this visit? I’ve got a few minutes and then I have to get back to dealing with those Swedish morons.” He wonders whether this was a bad idea. Well, he’s here now. “I’m sure you don’t – need this, but I just wanted to see how you were, I guess.” She looks taken aback for a moment, then her expression turns calm. “I guess Kevin told you?” she asks, resignedly. “Not much. Just that he was worried.” Jughead replies honestly. “If you’d rather not, I get it...” She sighs. “What do you know?” “Just that you had some kind of big fight with Josie.” He replies, and it’s basically the truth because Kevin didn’t betray much detail of what the fight was about. Her eye twitches, microscopically. She looks at him, almost suspicious but with something soft in her eyes too. “And you came to see if I was ok?” she asks. He nods. “I’ve just – it’s been a long week for me, too. Thought you might need a friend. I can go, I’m sure you’re busy...” She frowns at him. “I’m always busy, but that doesn’t mean I want you to leave.” Her expression softens. “Thanks for coming.” He smiles a little, awkwardly. “So...how are you doing?” She looks away momentarily, and sets her lips in a thin line. “I’ve got a business to run. As I remembered yesterday, I’m not the kind of person who sits around in her apartment, thinking of everything she could have done differently if she’d just –” she breaks off, and takes a breath. “Whatever, it’s done now. Spilled milk and all that,” she looks at him. “How are you? You said you’d had a long week?” she asks, curiously. He’s uncomfortably reminded of this morning. “It’s not important,” he says quickly, “So this fight – you can’t try and fix things? I know that sounds stupid and obvious, but...maybe she’ll surprise you.” Definitely, if she’s anything like her bandmate. He half expects her to excoriate him for such obvious advice, which he only scrambled to change the subject from his own problems, but instead her expression saddens. “No, it was...pretty bad. I touched a nerve, a thread I knew not to pull –“ she breaks off for a moment. “- I don’t think I’m sorry is going to mean much.” He looks at her, remembering something vaguely, a distant pinprick of hurt. “It goes further than nothing at all. Trust me on that one.” She takes this in quietly. He hesitates, and then speaks. “This isn’t like you, though.” She looks at him suspiciously. “The Cheryl Blossom I know goes after what she wants doggedly. She doesn’t give up. I know, because it frustrates the hell out of me, sometimes.” Cheryl smirks a little at this. “So look, what do I know about it – I’m not the best person to give out relationship advice. But I think you should try again. You’re Cheryl Fucking Blossom.” He finishes, not having expected to make such a speech. She looks at him, eyes still narrowed but smiling. “You’re totally – right. I just have to think of how to get her to hear me out...” The wheels are already turning behind her eyes. He wonders whether this is his cue to leave when she looks at him with the same curious look as before. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to change the subject, though. You helped me, come on, what’s your problem?” He doesn’t say anything, regarding her with vague suspicion. It’s unlikely that she’d pull out her old early-high school trick and immediately relay anything gossipy that she heard to everyone she could, but the time they used to talk about this exact issue was a long time ago now. She gives him an unimpressed look. “All these years, you still don’t trust me?” He cringes, a little. “No, of course I do. It’s just been a long time since we talked about it...” “So you have caught up with him this week, then?” she says, swiftly. He almost laughs. “You could say that, yes,” he says wearily. “So, what did he do?” she asks, matter-of-factly. He almost chokes. “How do you know he did anything? Maybe we just have nothing in common.” She scoffs. “One, please, you guys were always too dramatic about your friendship for that, and I can talk about drama. Two – you always orbited him. Of course he did something, and it’s knocked you out of orbit again.” He’s stunned quiet for a moment at this starkly accurate summation of their complex relationship. “Well maybe it’s something I didn’t react well to. Maybe I’m in the wrong too.” He says opaquely. She looks at him, wonderingly. “What was it?” He grimaces. “It’s just kind of –“ “C’mon you can tell me –“ she breaks off, and takes her breath. “But you don’t have to. I’m trying to self monitor my impulses better.” He looks at her. She looks honestly like she’s trying to help. He’s half-dreading the idea of, and half-curious at the idea of her advice on this. He sighs. Why not, at this point. “So we’ve been talking. Trying to hang out.” She nods, interested. “And fighting. More than once. The kind of fights that make you regret ever trying to fix anything in the first place, because you’ve just made it irreparably worse.” “I know what you mean,” she adds, quietly. He looks around, stalling, then looks back at her. “So, I thought we were pretty much done. And then he – he turns up, at my front door, and says he...loves me?” She looks mildly taken aback for a second then nods. “First of all, Kevin owes me like ten dollars, because I called it years ago.” “Oh my god,” he says faintly, looking away. This was definitely a terrible idea. She catches his eye when he looks back. “Secondly, I don’t think you’re as confused by this as you act. Or maybe you think yourself that you are, but you’re not. I’m sure you know why he said it, it’s you that’s gotta work out how you feel about it.” He kind of appreciates her blunt, matter-of-fact assessment. It’s definitely challenging, but it gives him something tangible to work through. “So I’m assuming you didn’t reply in the affirmative, then?” she asks. “Nope,” he replies quickly. “I yelled at him for trying to ruin my life. So yeah, I think I pretty much ended that. I think I’ve wrecked any chance...” She lets out a somewhat bitter laugh, and he frowns, feeling like he’s been slapped in the face. “What?” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry Jughead, I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just –“ she pauses, looking pained. “I had Josie, and I ruined it completely by myself. I gained her trust completely and lost it completely within the course of a few hours, and I don’t know if she’d ever consider forgiving me. But he loves you. Even if you yelled at him, I don’t think that changes it. Even with someone as easily-distracted as I remember him being.” He stares at her. “Thank you, Cheryl. I have to go now.” He realises. She smirks. “Hopefully at least one of us can be successful.” “Follow my advice.” He reminds her, turning. “Take your own!” she calls after him, a laugh in her voice. * Betty gets home from work and throws her bag on the couch. It has been a week. She’s never been so glad to get home on a Friday night, it feels like it’s taken five months to get here from the weekend instead of five days. She eyes the fridge and wonders whether it’s too early to have a beer. She’s not a heavy drinker generally, but it’s nearly five on a Friday afternoon, it’s been a long week, and she feels like she deserves a drink. She decides on it. Tonight will be a chill-out night. She’s going to order too much Indian food – somehow it’s impossible to ever order the right amount, but then you get leftovers – put her feet up and watch some comfort movies. Nothing romantic though, of course. Maybe that one Jughead likes, with the small English town and the mysterious murders that the incompetent police mark as accidents. She can relate. It’s gory in parts, but it is a comedy. That’s exactly what she’s feeling right now. She’ll have to ask him what it’s called again. She cracks open the beer, and sits on the couch with it and a book she’s reading. It’s one of her old Nancy Drews but she can’t be bothered with anything too mentally taxing right now. Plus, they’re kind of her nostalgic happy place. She’s surprised when she hears a knocking at the door. Probably Jughead. Or possibly, one of the twins, but they should be with Polly. She hopes suddenly nothing bad has happened. But of course, she should know better by now. The universe is apparently not done punching her in the gut. Veronica Lodge has once again taken her by surprise, and is standing in front of her, in the hallway of her apartment building. Somehow even though she looks apprehensive, and her eyes are a bit swollen-looking and red from what seems to be both crying and a lack of sleep, she still looks irritatingly pulled together. It almost makes her madder. She crosses her arms and sets her lips, very aware that this is a behaviour she’s picked up from her mom, but if ever she needed to channel the scariest, most-tight-lipped she could be it was now. “What are you doing here? Did I not make myself clear yesterday?” she says coldly. Veronica nods quickly. “You did. And I thought about it, and you were right,” she pauses. “Even if I didn’t mean to doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt you. I’m really sorry about it.” Betty wants to look away, or hear this apology from behind a door or something, because it’s not fair that she has to be subjected to a talented actress’s genuine-looking remorseful expression, eyes deep, dark pools of regret. That’s how she gives in always. Veronica shivers. “Can I just come in for a minute? It’s not much warmer in this hallway than outside right now.” She looks away in frustration. She should just say no, and tell her to leave. But of course, she can’t. “Fine, five minutes. But don’t –“ she relents, annoyed and finds she doesn’t know how to finish her sentence. She steps away from the doorway to allow her to enter. “Thanks, and sure I won’t – I won’t do make any sudden movements, or anything.” Veronica says gratefully, entering. Betty can’t tell if she’s serious. Betty speaks first this time, feeling tired. “It’s nice that you’re sorry, I guess. But I thought I made myself pretty definitively clear yesterday, and it doesn’t help that hurt to see you again. I need some – time, to recover from it. So I don’t really know what you’re doing here, Veronica.” Veronica looks around the apartment, smiles a little sadly, and looks back to Betty. “You have a good life here, I respect that. I didn’t to come back and mess you up like a bull in an - emotional china shop. I really, really didn’t. I just wanted – to see how you were,” she smiles again, small and wistful. Betty’s not feeling like fighting, but she’s not feeling like being the one with the silver linings and the-everything’s-fine-no--really attitude either right now. “Honestly, a lot better before all of you blew into town trying to ‘fix’ things. Before you –“ she breaks off. Veronica nods, looking understanding but hurt, not breaking eye contact. “I know. I made a mess of things. I came here to say that you were wrong about one thing.” “Oh, really?” she says with indignant surprise. “You said that I thought you were just some kind of pit stop here. Like, I could just hang out with you while ‘I figured out if I loved my boyfriend’.” Betty remembers the words. She frowns, but Veronica seems determined. And from past experience, a determined Veronica is hard to turn away from. She doesn’t break eye contact. “I’ve had very little sleep, and I’m exhausted, but I got some on the 9:30 flight to New York today.” Betty is momentarily so confused she forgets to be angry. “You went back home? Why are you... back? You’ve been on two flights today?” She’s given Veronica quite a wide berth, not trusting herself to get closer this time. She can see in Veronica’s gaze how much she wants close the physical distance between them, at least a little, but how she’s also holding herself back, trying to respect boundaries. “I wasn’t going back per se, I had to see someone. I had to see Jack.” Veronica answers, and Betty’s stomach drops involuntarily at his name. Even though he’s probably not the worst, and a stranger to her, she hates him for everything he represents. Veronica looks a little surprised at something, but doesn’t elaborate. “Jack and I had a long talk, and I broke off our engagement.” Betty’s heart, again involuntarily, jumps. She keeps her expression annoyed though, trying to conceal her reaction. This might not mean anything. “I think it was for the best for him too. I hope so. I just thought you should...know.” Veronica says, apprehensive but somehow looking cautiously hopeful. “Why...from what I know you had a longer relationship than anything we had – you were going to marry him...”she protests, almost finding herself lost for words. Veronica shakes her head, with a frustrated chuckle. “God, because you were wrong! I didn’t see you as a stopover on the way to being with him – I just never got over you, Betty! I didn’t realise it, fully, until I saw you again but like –“ she pauses, looking searchingly at Betty. Betty might be holding a breath, she doesn’t know. Veronica looks at her sadly, intensely. “I think I’ve been living in a bubble world since we broke up. I don’t really have non-famous friends because I can’t really explain what it’s like. I have acquaintances, I try not to treat my crew snootily and I get along with people, but the people I’m around mostly are just like me. In the same bubble where all of this shit matters, that really fucking doesn’t. And I didn’t realise how much I was in a bubble until I saw you again. It was like that first night, in the diner, all over again but so much worse because at least then I hadn’t disappointed you yet.” She swallows, eyes watering. Betty lets the breath she’s been holding out. She can feel her eyes brimming too. “Then why didn’t you fight for me? I tried for us!” Veronica’s silently crying again. “I made a mistake! After that whole misunderstanding, and then that last day, I just thought you were done. And I was afraid, and it was easier to let you go than keep it alive – Northwestern just felt so far from NYU, and it just felt like we were barely together anyway. But I was stupid. I wish – I should have fought harder for you.” Betty finds it a moment before she can even say anything. “It felt like – you weren’t happy but, grateful to be rid of the last of your ties to your shitty, small town life, like it was just a bad dream you could forget about!” She can feel herself crying now. Her eyes still hurt from yesterday. Veronica makes a hurt, choked –off noise. “No, no, God, never. This town is weird, and coming here I was convinced it would terrible, but living here was honestly one of the best periods of my life. How could I ever regret you, Betty Cooper?” Betty wants so badly to cross the space between them, but something stops her. “I want –“ she begins, “I want to trust you. But I’m not sure I can handle losing you again.” Veronica looks at her very softly, eyes shining with emotion. “I can’t promise not to hurt you again. No one can, honestly. But honestly, I swear I will never intentionally cause you pain, and I will always try to do better for you.” She pauses, looking uncertain. “That is, if you’ll have me.” Betty can’t stand it any longer, and rushes forward to hold Veronica’s face in her hands. She rests her forehead against Veronica’s. “Of course. I’ve been gone on you from day one.” She doesn’t feel particularly attractive right now, with her red eyes and running nose, but the way Veronica smiles at her feels like it almost emits heat it’s so full of warmth. Veronica moves in to kiss her and she pulls away. Veronica looks stricken. She shakes her head, smiling, as she grabs a tissue from the tissue box near the door. “Sorry, sorry, I can’t allow you to kiss me like this. I’m too gross.” Veronica looks incredibly relieved, and laughs. “I’m an actress, believe me, I’ve had to kiss worse. And besides I would kiss you even if you had a cold. Your gross is my gross now. I’ve got years to make up for.” Betty chuckles weakly. “I’m going to kiss you now.” And she does. * “It’s raining again. I can hear it.” Betty says quietly, smiling. Veronica looks at her across the pillow, amused. “Yes it is.” She traces a pattern on Betty’s hand. “It’s cosy.” Betty beams at her, leaning across for a long, lazy kiss. They lie for a while, not talking, just looking at each other, hands loosely entwined. “So, reunion tomorrow night – Will you be my date?” Veronica asks, with a light laugh. Betty cringes. “Oh, I totally blanked that’s on tomorrow! I did promise I’d help Cheryl with set up and name badge duties, but that’s only for the start of it?” “So you’re abandoning me?” Veronica says dramatically, making Betty grin. “What do we even need name badges for? We know who everyone is.” She pouts. Betty laughs. “You mean, everyone knows who you are. The badges are for those of us who aren’t on magazines in the supermarket regularly,” she teases. Veronica blushes a little. “I didn’t mean it like that.” “I know.” Betty says, feeling full of light. “I’m just teasing. If you’re happy to hang out while I hand out name badges, I’d love to go with you.” Veronica smiles at her, a private, soft smile not for public consumption. “I’ll save you a dance,” she says, and kisses her again. *** Jughead decides to walk. It’s not more than a fifteen minute walk, twenty at most. He feels like he could use the fresh air. He’s about eighty percent certain that he’s going to get there and be told Archie’s already gone home. When you think about it, it makes sense. And yet, he’s been stalling all day. Dreading seeing him again all day, and unable to think of anything else. And then of course, halfway there the thick, dark clouds above make good on what they’ve been promising to do all day and break open, pouring down sheets of rain. Of course. It was such a great idea not to drive. He buttons his jacket up as much he can and hurries forward. He reaches the yellow house soon afterwards, and looks up at his one-time home. He can’t help but be hit by nostalgic memories- eight, ten, fourteen, seventeen – but he blinks and they disappear. He’s only struck now with the thought that one, he hadn’t even considered that Fred and Hermione would probably be there and that one of them would probably answer the door, and two, Archie would be well within his rights to completely yell at him and send him away. The thought almost makes him turn around immediately, but he shivers and walks up to the front door. He knocks, and waits, shivering, pushing his wet hair back out of his eyes. When no one comes to the door he wonders if anyone’s even home. Fred might have offered to drive his son to the airport, to get to spend a little more time with him before he leaves. He considers leaving again. Maybe this was just a terrible mistake and he can just guilt people into never bringing it up again. Why did he waste so much time at home? As he’s about to turn back into the rain, which has not lessened, he hears someone on the stairs. His heart misses a beat, like when you misjudge how many stairs there are going down and you skip one and feel like you’re falling for a second. Archie opens the door in sweatpants and a plaid flannel, looking tired. He seems to have changed at last though, because Jughead could swear he was wearing the same shirt and jeans all three times he’s seen him since Wednesday. He looks completely baffled to see him. He rubs his eyes. “I didn’t hear the door, I was taking a nap...” he says slowly. “You looked like you could use it.” Jughead replies awkwardly. Archie doesn’t reply to this, just stands there looking tired and irritable. “Did you walk here in the rain?” He asks suddenly. Jughead shivers. “Yes. Well, it started after I was halfway here, but yes.” Archie looks confused, like he’s not fully awake and doesn’t understand things properly yet. “Why’d you do that?” Jughead looks at him, and feels unreasonably angry again. Not even at Archie, just at the whole mess of the situation. “I walked here because I have something to say, and of fucking course I would turn up on your door dramatically in a rainstorm because nothing is fair, and anything important I do has to become a goddamn rom-com cliché – “ he says in one breath, only stopped by Archie cutting him off. “What?” Archie says, looking more confused. He takes a breath, heart beating like a hammer, and a line from one of Archie’s songs off the album he’d listened to while pacing between his living room and kitchen, wondering whether to go. I know I could lie, but I’m telling the truth, wherever I go, there’s a shadow of you. He looks steadily at Archie. “I’m not good at surprises. I never have been. They’ve never really brought good things for me. I wasn’t...expecting you to say that. I expected us to never see each other again, and then – “ he breaks off for a second. “- I wouldn’t have predicted you would say that to me this morning. But I’m sorry that I yelled at you this morning. It’s not like you’re responsible for everyone else’s heartbreaks. That wasn’t fair.” Archie nods, half-frozen in the doorway. “So you came here to apologise for that? It’s fine. You’re forgiven.” He doesn’t say it bitterly, just like he’s tired and would like to go back to bed. Jughead steels his nerve. “I’m sorry, but I’m also annoyed.” Archie makes an incredulous “hah” noise, but doesn’t say anything. “I’m annoyed that you got there before I did. I knew so much earlier than you.” Archie opens his mouth slightly to say something, but doesn’t, keeping his eyes on Jughead. Thinking about this feels like he’s channelling his younger, angstier, teenage self but maybe that’s inevitable where teenage feelings are concerned. “Of course I knew before you did! It made sense to look at us, when you were always the normal, healthy-looking one, and I was your weird, skinny friend, of course I did! I knew it so well it became normal, a thought in the back of my mind, a background process I didn’t even consciously think about, like – breathing,” he says rapidly. It’s like something’s cracked open inside him, after years, Pandora’s Box but instead of letting evil out it’s truth – and it’s actually making him feel better. “I watched you go from girl to girl, and I thought that’s just him. It’s not even like I was jealous. I accepted that you would never know, and I was never going to tell you. But I needed to figure my shit out, I had to do that without you. That’s why – I couldn’t tell you about Reggie. It was a weird thing that I didn’t totally get myself, but it was comforting in a way that I didn’t want you to know. I couldn’t talk to you about that. What if you figured it out? And then...the road trip. I told you, I’m not good with surprises. I knew first for so long I never imagined I was first. I just thought I was only...the only one who knew how I felt.” “How did you feel?” Archie asks, but he doesn’t sound like he’s confused. He sounds tired, and hurt. “God, you’re gonna make me say it,” Archie raises an eyebrow, and he has to admit that’s fair. “I – I loved you. I still do. I still love you.” Archie laughs – a strange kind of exasperated, exhausted sound. “I’m sorry, I just don’t get it, Jug – I told you this morning that I returned the feelings you’ve apparently had for over a decade, and you told me it was “peak me”. On that road trip, you made me feel like you were horrified with me, and then you suggested we forget about it. All fucking day I’ve been convinced I built up anything I thought you felt for me more than friendship. What should I think?” Jughead sighs in frustration and runs a hand through his damp hair. “You kissed me once, while high. It wasn’t exactly an admission of love! I don’t really know what like you’re like now, but then – you had this habit of being obsessed with a girl for like a week or a month and you’d be certain that they were the one. You really liked them. I get it, I’m not trying to judge you but just – I was so afraid that’s what that was. You’d run out of girls to chase. It had to happen at some point with you. I was just something that hadn’t occurred to you until that very moment, and you wouldn’t mean to hurt me, but you’d get bored, you’d get distracted by something else, and I couldn’t – I couldn’t lose our friendship over something dumb you did while high.” He shivers again. “Not that it mattered, in the end. The kiss changed everything just by happening.” He almost expects Archie to be defensive over this, but he just looks sad, and nods slowly. “I understand. I want to say I wouldn’t have but who knows – I can’t definitely say that wouldn’t have happened. God, I wish you’d just told me though.” He looks at Jughead. “I thought I was being the weird one.” Jughead half-smiles, small and rueful, but there. “It would have meant admitting a lot I was too scared to tell you. I’m sorry that I made you feel like that.” Archie sighs. “We were young. You forgave me for hurting you worse. Don’t worry about it.” “Thanks,” he says awkwardly. They stand quietly, still looking at each other. “So, you look pretty cold. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you in, but I just woke up and this conversation was kind of a big distraction. Do you want to come in?” Archie says. Jughead’s heart hammers. “I kind of have to know before I do – I know I yelled at you, but do you...do you still feel the same way you did nine hours ago?” Archie looks at him incredulously, and half-laughs. “Of course I do. What kind of – Just come in already, won’t you? You’re shivering.” Jughead’s surprised he can move his legs. He hadn’t quite expected this, somehow. It had seemed like a possibility, but not a probability. He follows Archie into the hallway. A thought occurs to him again. “Where’s your Dad? He didn’t hear all of that, did he?” Archie smiles. “No, he took Hermione out for a date in the city. They’re not supposed to be back till tomorrow.” He nods. They stand close together, not speaking. “So, just checking,” says Archie after a moment. “You love me?” Jughead chuckles, feeling like he’s being teased. “Yes. I do.” Archie looks into his eyes intensely, and for a moment he sees him again like a stranger – like the adult he’s grown into instead of the boy he knew, who never once looked at him like that – and then he recognises the warmth in his eyes and remembers this is someone he knows, well. “I thought I should probably ask this time, so I don’t spring any surprises on you, but...can I kiss you, now?” He asks, so quietly, so gently it almost breaks Jughead’s heart. Jughead shivers. “Ok.” It’s strange to be kissing this person that he knows so well, and also feels like he doesn’t know at all. Even stranger to be kissing in this familiar old hallway, which used to be all memories of visiting after school, and later coming home after school, but will now always be the place where they kissed for the first time (unaltered by drugs or alchohol). Archie’s hands are warm. Strange, but not a bad strange. He pulls away for a second, a whole other panic occurring to him, which had never popped up because he would never in a million years thought this likely. “I just want to say, I know you’ve probably had a lot of...” he fumbles for the right word.”...experience? And I’ve – I haven’t had a lot of relationships in the last few years, which I guess is weird – “ Archie’s hands have settled around his waist, comfortably. He looks at Jughead very gently again, and says, “It's not - I don’t expect anything from you. We don’t have to do anything. I’m happy with – even just this.” Jughead worries it will probably ruin the mood if he starts crying, but it’s surreal. It’s not even like a dream because he couldn’t have imagined this scenario in order to dream about it. It’s been a really long time since someone looked at him like this. Too long. He looks at him, cautiously resting a hand on Archie’s plaid-clad arm. “No – I want...that. I just – you might have to take it slowly with me,” he says, quite proud of the way his voice doesn’t crack or come out too thinly. His heart’s racing, but for the first time out of nervousness, not out of full blown anxiety. Archie smiles, warm and without mocking, and kisses him lightly. Resting his head against Jughead’s, he says quietly, “I think I can manage that.” Jughead sneezes. “After you have a hot shower, because your skin is like ice.” Archie chuckles. “C’mon, I’ll lend you something of mine.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- I didn’t know I was lonely till I saw your face, I wanna get better, better, better, better I didn’t know I was broken till I wanted to change, I wanna get better, better, better, better – “I Wanna Get Better”, Bleachers It’s been a long time since I came around, been a long time but I’m back in town, and this time I’m not leaving without you – “You And I”, Lady Gaga It’s still raining outside. Archie likes that, it makes him feel even more wrapped up, sheltered. He hasn’t felt this warm, this safe, this far away from the world in years. Maybe the last time was before things got bad with Vashti – but it’s never a good idea to attempt to replace a best friend with a new relationship. He feels warm throughout his entire body. They’re so close now, legs entwined loosely, and he thought it might feel weird after all this time, but the stranger thing is that it doesn’t. In this moment, he can’t remember anything but being here and now, the most comfortable he’s ever been. He looks at Jughead, not speaking. He doesn’t need to. He does want to write like seventy new songs about how long his eyelashes are, about the delicate curve of his cheekbones against his thin face, about how he hasn’t seen this lazy, happy smile since they were both young children. “What are you thinking?” he asks quietly, with a smile. The sound doesn’t have to travel far. Jughead smiles and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s dumb.” “What is it?” he prods, lightly, a laugh in his voice. Jughead looks back at him. “I just can’t believe after all this time, we’re back here. In this room. Fred hasn’t even taken down your old comic posters.” Archie laughs an agreement, having not even considered it. “Yeah. But you’re not on a blow-up mattress now. Which is good.” Jughead nods, grinning. “We really should have figured it out much earlier. I slept on that mattress for months until I moved into the guest room.” Archie grins. “I had been separated from you a lot before that! I just wanted to make sure you knew I… wanted you there.” Jughead sighs. “You are unbearably cheesy.” Archie takes mock-offence. “You love it!” Jughead smiles, softly. “I do.” Archie has to kiss him, then. It’s still a novelty, having that freedom. Of course, he would willingly stop the second he was asked to, but he almost can’t believe he’s allowed to at all. He pulls back but leaves his hand there loosely, stroking Jughead’s cheekbone. Jughead leans into the touch, closing his eyes, until Archie finally lets his hand drop. Jughead gets a look like he’s just thought of something. “What is it?” Archie asks, noticing. Jughead shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.” Archie looks at him, seriously, caringly. “Are you sure?” Jughead looks like he’s considering it. “Do you…” he starts, so quietly that Archie almost misses it, and he’s already pretty close. Jughead looks up at the ceiling, uneasily. “I get very nervous when things go too well for me. Bad things had a habit of sneaking up behind them and hitting me right when I let my guard down…” Archie’s heart breaks for him, again, and he finds Jughead’s hand and holds it. “Hey, hey, look at me, Jug,” he says softly. “Look at me.” Jughead turns to look at him, looking worried. “I can’t change those things. I can’t promise anything for certain in the future. But I won’t lie to you. In fact, from now on – why don’t we make sure we don’t lie, and we don’t keep secrets from each other. That way, you’ll be able to at least deal with things head on.” Archie says, making sure to keep his gaze. Jughead’s eyes look watery, and he looks away for a second, blinking. “When did you get so wise?” Jughead asks, looking back suspiciously. “I had a friend who would call me out if I said stupid things to her. Which was a lot of the time. Tough love works.” Archie says, with a grin. Jughead laughs, then goes pensive. After a few seconds, he says slowly. “I like the honesty thing. Not like, obliged to tell each other every single thought we ever have, but I like the not keeping things from each other part. Can I ask you something?” Archie nods. “Ask away.” Jughead looks at him pensively. “I’m not going to freak out or anything, but – why did Reggie tell you about senior year? I know that we’re not like ‘best buds’ or whatever, but we’re friendly and I just thought he wouldn’t have…just told anyone about it.” Archie sighs. “Don’t be mad at him, I kinda – made him tell me. I wanted to know if there was anything else about that year that could help me understand why we had such a bad fight.” Jughead raises an eyebrow. Archie blushes, a little. “I’m aware now obviously that it’s because I didn’t want to deal with what happened before the fight, but that would have meant admitting things to myself I was not ready to.” Jughead smiles. After a moment he says, “So, it just – came out while you were hanging out?” Archie sighs. “In our new spirit of honesty, even though I don’t feel guilty about it, and I really hope I’m not about to upset you…That first fight kind of wrecked me, and I needed some kind of comfort, and I ended up running into him. We caught up, there was a lot of drinking…he was there. But I swear – it wasn’t more than a one-shot deal for either of us. He asked me why I’d needed a drink, we ended up talking about it, and I made him tell me what he knew…” His heart thumps, and he hopes he hasn’t made a terrible mistake. But the goal was honesty; he’d had plenty of relationships with dishonesty, lies, and secrets. He keeps looking at Jughead, waiting for his reaction. He looks a little surprised. “Ok, so I kiiiiind of thought that might be the case when I asked you about him just before, but I really appreciate you telling me. I guess this honesty thing is working so far,” Jughead muses. “And it might have surprised me for a few seconds, but I’m not – mad. You’re a grown man. Neither of us had said anything to each other about how we felt. I get it.” A small, slow smile breaks across his face. Relief floods Archie’s mind like a potent drug. “Oh thank God. I like this honesty thing so far,” he says, and Jughead chuckles softly and a lock of dark hair falls forward onto his forehead, and Archie has to kiss him again. “So three out of the four of us, huh? Maybe that was his plan all along, and he couldn’t get to Veronica before Betty did.” Jughead jokes, resting his head on Archie’s shoulder. Archie has wrapped an arm around Jughead’s shoulder, and feels like he wouldn’t care if his arm went numb because he never wants to move again. He laughs, remembering something. “He said he didn’t go after her because of the ‘bro code’, actually,” Jughead snickers. “Sounds like him.” * Archie falls into an easy, warm sleep for an hour or so and wakes up feeling like he’s slept for a year. It’s the most refreshed he’s felt in ages. A momentary panic is calmed by looking over to see Jughead still there, his head resting on the pillow beside him. It’s not raining anymore, but he can still hear the dripping of water from lamp-posts and trees and out of rain gutters. He can’t help but stare across the pillow at him, not moving, just looking. “You’re staring.” Jughead mumbles sleepily, eyes still closed. He chuckles softly, caught out. “I can’t help it. I’m not trying to You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful you, but like, damn…” Jughead chuckles, eyes fluttering open. “I would think that’s exactly what you do. Maybe the label should have called you Two Directions back in the day and marketed you as their successors.” he teases. Archie gasps. “How dare you,” he says, as if he’s been mortally wounded. Jughead laughs, getting that kind of goofy, open grin on his face that only came out in his most unguarded moments. “No, I tease, I’m just making fun of you,” Jughead relents. “I did actually listen to your last album all the way through before I came here.” Archie is surprised, somehow. “What – what did you think?” Jughead looks at him, a little more seriously. “It – I really liked it. I think – I think it’s what convinced me I had to come over. I mean, I’m assuming that some things were kind of about me, and now I think about it, that’s kind of self-centered –“ Archie cuts him off, grinning. “Nope, you were right. I’ve been trying to write more about the real things, in my life, my memories and that made me think of you, and you ended up being the person I – along with Josie, of course – wrote at least two songs on the album directly about. Definitely Kids. And Wherever I Go.” Jughead grimaces. “In the spirit of honesty, I totally lied about thinking Kids was about all of us. But then you said it was, and I felt stupid for thinking it was about only us.” Archie laughs. “I fucking knew it! I only said that because I felt like it was a bit pathetic admitting it if you couldn’t already tell. Fuck, we go around in circles so much.” Jughead cringes. “God, I know. We got there in the end, though.” He says, with a small smile, and leans over for another kiss. Time feels elastic and unimportant. Archie can tell it’s dark outside, but other than that he doesn’t care. “Archie, can I ask you something totally cliché?” Jughead asks after a while, staring at the ceiling. Archie grins. “Of course.” “I don’t know what your world is like – but I can’t imagine the industry is too queer friendly…” he pauses, searchingly. Archie makes a small “hah” sound of disgruntled assent. “Not publicly, no.” “I guess I’m just wondering, not that you have to tell me…but I was wondering, if you didn’t know when you left – when did you figure it out?” he says, looking at Archie curiously. Archie shakes his head. “Oh God, that’s a question. But in the spirit, so on…” he smiles ruefully. He thinks about it for a moment, propping his chin up on his crossed arms. “For about a year, I was just caught up with all the meetings and recording and everything, and I didn’t want to even think about what had happened, and definitely not why…” he trails off. It’s always weird remembering that time – it was both one of the most exciting and new and thrilling times of his life, and for a short time, the least complicated, but also an undercurrent of various painful and scary emotions are threaded through the memories – the loneliness of being in a totally different setting without real friends, the pain of having left them behind, missing them, regret. “I had never lived in the city, like I knew that the populations were way bigger, but I didn’t get it till I lived there – it was so much easier to meet new people all the time. In that first year I think I subconsciously decided I could be whatever I wanted to, the easiest version of me – and it’s like it worked for a while? I thought I could be this totally ‘normal’ guy, and like, I’d be able to meet a girl there and have a normal relationship and just never deal with any issues, just as soon as I stopped being so busy with making our first album,” he laughs, somewhat ironically. Jughead rolls on to his side, listening intently. “I’ll spare you the boring detail, but I dated a few girls in that year, for short periods. I was too busy to actually be there for a relationship, and they were often like, jealous of Josie. I had to put her first, and I don’t regret that – the music thing was what we gave up everything here for, it had to come first.” He sighs, and looks at Jughead. “Of course, just when you think you know what you’re doing, reality fucking comes and punches you in the stomach. Like, oh did you forget? It’s time to deal with that thing you put off dealing with. Have a good year!” Jughead laughs wearily. “Yep, been there.” Archie smiles at him, feeling a little pinprick of hurt at the memory he’s about to tell. It was almost ten years ago, and it was small enough that it’s just like scar tissue – not a gaping wound, but never completely healed over. It’s an important scar to remember. “So, we were touring. Our first tour, actually, and there was this guy, Diego, from this band that we made friends with. They were going to the same places as us a lot, playing the same festivals, and we just – clicked. It was like, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and I didn’t tell Josie about this – in hindsight, because I totally knew what she would say, and she’d have been right – and then we were at some festival act party, and he pulled me away and kissed me. That’s when I kinda knew…or realised it wasn’t going away.” That experience was another thing that was weird to think about, and he hadn’t thought about it so deeply in years. Jughead reaches an arm out to stroke Archie’s colourfully-inked arm. “Don’t feel like you have to answer me, ok, but… I’m curious, did you see him again? Did anyone else know?” Archie nods. “It’s ok, feels kinda – good to talk. After that…we had this brief, intense, on and off secret relationship, I guess, although it was a mess and neither of us wanted anyone to know, although he was less worried about it. And no one knew, or at least I don’t think so – I told Josie after it ended, because I was tired of lying, and I needed to talk to someone about it, and she got it. In a weird way, it kind of brought us closer, having more in common than we thought.” He shakes his head and grimaces, shaking off the vulnerable nineteen-year-old’s memories. “Sorry that was so long-winded, it was kind of series of things leading up to it,” he says, smiling sheepishly. Jughead grins, slow and lazy. “I like hearing about your life. For the last decade, I’ve only known what other people tell me about it. And it’s interesting to know about the relationships you weren’t having in the public eye.” “Yeah, there’s been a few. And even less that I really thought might work.” Archie turns on his side, and looks at Jughead, frowning at a sudden thought he’s had. “Jug, I have to tell you –” he sees Jughead tense, almost like a twitch, ready to hear. “ – I’m not good at relationships. My longest one was just under a year, and I haven’t been in a real one for a few years, and I know I’m selfish for not telling you this before I told you how I felt, but I’m trying to tell you now because, honesty –“ He stops at the slow, relieved smile breaking out across Jughead’s face. “What are you smiling at?” Jughead shakes his head, smiling. “You total – jerk, I thought you were about to say something really bad,” Archie is taken aback. “I know you. I know you’re bad at this. You’ve been bad at this since I knew you.” Archie lies back, feeling himself blush. “You think you’re not great at relationships? My last one was three years ago, and it was the only relationship I attempted since college,” Jughead continues, matter-of-factly. Archie looks at him. “But we’re going to make it work. Or at least we’re gonna try our fucking hardest.” Archie continues to look at him, almost unable to speak. For the first time since he kissed Jughead in the hallway and felt lighter than air - a deeply buried fear rises to his mind spreading a horrible cold through him like ice water in his veins. This morning he couldn’t have even predicted for certain that his feelings would be returned. But now the thought is unbearable – that they’d actually finally make it, and he was going to ruin it. He can’t look at him any longer, and lies back. He had been selfish, not remembering this truth, just wanting to feel good. Now, whatever he does, he is going end up hurting the one person he had just promised not to, and how could he call it unintentional? It was callous at the very least. “Archie – Arch, what…what did I say? I didn’t mean we’re gonna just try, I am determined to make this work, I’m not –” Jughead cuts through his anxious train of thought, sounding worried. He closes his eyes. This might well be the worst thing he’s ever done, and that’s not a short list. He keeps his eyes closed, if he doesn’t open them he won’t cry. The sharp nails of his fingers dig into the broken skin around his thumbnails. He can hear him, but it’s like he’s paralysed by guilt and mourning what never even got started. “Archie, fuck, look at me! Talk to me!” Jughead says, and he sounds so freaked out and hurt that it wakes him up. Looking at him, the hurt already in his face makes him feel like he’s been stabbed but he forces the words out. He can’t afford to lie here paralysed and not explain, and he already feels ashamed for shutting down and freaking out without any explanations. “I don’t just mean I’m bad at them…I can’t do them right, I’ve not once had – a fucking single successful relationship, Jug, I hurt people. Something always happens, I can’t – “ he breaks off, starting to cry, feeling the panic rising. Jughead looks at him, terrified, and encloses a hand over his. This has the effect of at least stopping his anxious fidgeting, although there will still be deep welts around his nail beds. “Bullshit.” He says quietly, angrily. “Just because they haven’t worked in the past, doesn’t mean this can’t work.” He looks at Jughead, pained, wishing selfishly that he could’ve forgotten this for longer. “No, it’s me. There’s something rotten inside me, and if I hurt you because of it, I couldn’t – fuck,” his vision blurs with tears and he struggles for breath. It feels like he’s dying, this feels worse than any one before this. Then he distantly feels a comforting hand lightly resting on his chest. It’s warm. He hears Jughead say, steadily, “Breathe with me. In… Out… In… Out.” He listens and gets his breathing under control. After he can think relatively clearly again, even though he still feels anxious and afraid, he asks Jughead, “How did you know how to deal with that?” Jughead looks tired, and sad, and looks back at him. “My mom, used to get them. I learnt how to deal with them.” He nods, very slightly. “I liked your mom.” Jughead nods, almost mimicking the action unwittingly. He lets Archie’s hand drop out of his. He’s sitting up. “You’re not off the hook – you’re hurting me more, now, not telling me why you think there’s something rotten in you…” Jughead says, voice full of hurt. Archie looks at him, surprised that he can’t see it yet. “You know the boy that Mary Kay Letourneau had sex with, he married her? He said he couldn’t form relationships with women around his own age, like she was in his head from so young that she ruined any chance of normal relationships with anyone else, the only choice he had was to go back to her. They had two children! How fucked is that,” he says angrily, and his voice shakes. “I – hate her, so fucking much – because she didn’t just screw me up then, she did something to me and I don’t think I’ll ever be ok again…but what if – what if she made herself the only person -” he can’t finish the sentence, it hurts too much, he’s crying again into the pillow because he can’t look at Jughead. Jughead surprises him by lying down next to him, very gently, looking at him with fire in his eyes but unmistakable love as well. Without speaking, he raises a hand to Archie’s face and wipes some of his tears away with his thumb, and waits for them to taper off. He speaks very quietly, but his voice shakes with some suppressed anger. “Believe me, Arch, if I could make her pay for it, I would. I can’t. But you don’t need to think this – if you had looked into it more, you would have seen that Vili Fuaalau filed for divorce from that woman over ten years ago. She doesn’t – “ he breaks off, trembling, “ – she doesn’t get to win. She doesn’t get to ruin your life, unless you let her. And you’re so much stronger than that. I know it.” Again, he feels like he doesn’t deserve this. This person is too good, too caring for him. But then he thinks for the first time, maybe that’s the fear talking. Maybe all that’s required is for him to be brave, and to want to try. And he wants to try, more than anything. “So what should I do?” he asks, and his throat feels sore. “Have you ever tried talking to anyone about it, like professionally?” Jughead asks softly, not removing his hand. Archie is grateful for this; it makes him feel grounded here in this moment. “Josie’s brought it up, once or twice. I was…afraid. Too afraid to talk about it, at least with anyone else.” He almost whispers. Jughead takes this in seriously. “I think you should. I mean, I’ve been going to a therapist for a few years, and that’s only cause Betty convinced me to go to one session with hers. Surprisingly, I’m sure, but there was stuff I didn’t even realise I was carrying around with me…and with what you’ve got, I think it would be good for you. Think about it – not for me, but for your own sake?” He realises the thought doesn’t terrify him the way it used to. He actually feels – hopeful. It might not ever fix some of his scars, but maybe it can help. He nods slowly. “God, I love you,” he says quietly, leaning his head forward against Jughead’s. “You’re lucky I love you so much, you fucking scared me that bad.” Jughead replies, with a familiar ironic humour in his voice. He feels awful about it, but the only way he’ll fix it, is trying to be better in the future. “I’m sorry I freaked out on you, I’m really, really, fucking sorry,” he says, feeling remorseful in every atom of his being. “The thought of her finding a way, after nearly, what thirteen years, to destroy this – it freaked me out. I’m gonna get better at telling you when I’m freaking out.” “Just talk to me. I’ll try and remember to when I get in a mood.” Jughead asks, with a weak chuckle that barely makes a sound. “That’s the only way this will work.” “This will work. You’re stuck with me now,” he tries to joke, but Jughead kisses him instead. “I’m glad you’re a mess. We match,” he says, with an affectionate smirk. Archie chuckles. “Do you feel like takeout? I’m fucking starving, I haven’t eaten since I got home from going to your apartment this morning.” Jughead laughs. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I could eat an entire pizza by myself right now.” * They eat the delivered pizzas in bed, side by side. They discuss relationships, without getting too much into the emotions. He feels tapped out from crying anyway. Jughead tells him about college, an R.A named Desi; and then a co-worker, Kit, who’d moved to a bigger newspaper in a different city. He explains how much his long relationship with Adam felt like freedom, but wasn’t, and how he felt safe with Vashti but ruined it by not letting her in, not telling her what was underneath it all. “Basically, never a good idea to try and replace a lost best friend by directing all your need into a relationship.” He says wryly. “So wait, this was after the band broke up? But you weren’t fighting with Josie that whole time right?” Jughead asks, looking curious. Archie shakes his head. “Kind of a long story.” “I’m not going anywhere.” Archie smiles, somewhat wistful. “I had started seeing Vashti when I was about 23, around the end of the year, and then Josie and I had finished an album and we were getting pulled in different directions… I felt like she was the star, and I guess she worried people thought I was. We had this horrible fight, and I told her she could finally go solo and cut me loose like she always wanted. She called my bluff, and then…I was in a bad place. Vashti couldn’t put up with my shit much longer, dumped me a couple of months after Josie left. And I didn’t see Josie for six months, which felt like forever – I just holed up writing sad songs and working on an album.” He pauses, thinking. “Then, I’m supposed to go to some awards show, and I get all ready, and then I just – don’t. I know Josie will be performing, and I can’t. Then, I get a call from her later, asking me why she didn’t see me there. I say I’m at home, and she says she’s -” he smiles just thinking about it. “- She’s already at my door. We spent the rest of the night talking, making up, and about a year and a half later we officially decided it was more fun making music together, and we got our act together to move overseas for a year to write that last album. Since that night, and before this week, I don’t think we’ve spent more than twenty-four hours apart. Which I guess, sounds totally weird and co-dependent, right?” Jughead grins. “Sure, but it would be a little hypocritical for me to judge people for that.” They eat in comfortable silence. “So where did you move to then? Come on, make me hate you.” Jughead jokes. Archie laughs. “We spent some months in Paris, writing, and then some months in London, recording at Abbey Road. Which you would actually die over, it kind of hurt at the time that I couldn’t tell you how cool it was to be there…” Jughead shakes his head, overplaying outrage. “I think I’m expecting it, but then you go and tell me that. I do, I totally hate you,” he says, in such a way it can’t be mistaken for anything but a joke. “And Paris, fuck. That was obviously first on my list of pretentious writer places to go after college.” Archie looks at him mildly. “Well, it’s not gone anywhere yet. Maybe we could go there sometime.” Jughead looks at him, but with less scepticism than when he’d suggested travel that first time. “Maybe.” He smiles. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, then. “If you had to replace me as your best friend,” he says, smiling, lightly teasing. “I’m glad it ended up being Josie. She’s good for you. And she’s good at giving advice.” Archie is pleasantly surprised by this unexpected comment. “I don’t know how I would have survived the last decade without her. She…knew I kind of had to get out of Los Angeles, and she was the one who organised for us to move overseas. She’s the best kind of person.” Jughead nods quietly, finishing his last slice of pizza. “We really should have brought the paper towels up, my hands are greasy as hell now…” he says almost absent-mindedly. Archie gestures to the borrowed sweatpants he’s wearing. “Those are old anyway.” Jughead shakes his head, smirking. “You say that, but I’m probably going to find out they’re designer or something…” he says, wiping his hands on them anyway. He looks like he’s musing on something. “What are you thinking about?” he asks, wiping his fingers on his own pants and slipping his hand over Jughead’s. Jughead smiles, a little wistfully. “I think Betty’s going to move to New York. Which is good. I mean, I think she should move on, but it’s just…last week I didn’t know any of this, and suddenly everything’s changing…” Archie looks at him. “Good changes, though?” Jughead looks sheepish, almost guilty, and squeezes his hand. “Of course.” Archie has a thought then which fills with him with warmth, but he keeps a lid on it, and says casually. “Well maybe…sometime soon you might think about leaving here. Because I don’t want to be without you, and I guess I could come back here for a while…but I think you want to leave, right?” Jughead rests his head on Archie’s shoulder, and doesn’t say anything. He can almost feel him thinking. "Jesus fucking Christ I do...not sure I can deal with L.A, though. Is that a dealbreaker?” Archie chuckles. “Yes. I intend to stay there forever,” he jokes. “No, I’ve been thinking of moving for a while anyway…” * It’s early in the morning sometime, and the rain is back. Jughead doesn’t know exactly what time it is, but judging by the grey light coming in from the window, it’s probably somewhere just after dawn. He grabs his phone off the bedside table, being as careful as he can to not wake Archie, whose arm is still slung loosely around his stomach. 5:07 am. They’d had such an irregular sleeping pattern yesterday with the afternoon nap and then staying up till a few hours ago, that he felt Archie could use the rest. It was amazing how content and refreshed he’d looked after that nap, though. Jughead got the sense he didn’t get a lot of sleep generally. Not that he slept that much more. He was only awake now because he usually woke up around this time anyway, and apparently this morning was no exception. He felt Archie shiver and mumble something, sounding distressed, and turned round to see his eyes flick open, looking afraid and disoriented for a moment. Jughead automatically puts his hand on Archie’s chest, feeling his heart beating a mile a minute. “You alright?” Archie visibly relaxes to see him. “Yeah just – just bad dreams. I think it’s being here…I’m ok,” he says quietly, and then frowns a little. “Did I wake you?” He shakes his head. “I was already awake,” he says, lying back down on Archie’s pillow. Archie wraps a warm arm around him, maybe even more to comfort himself than Jughead, but he doesn’t mind. They lie in comfortable silence for a moment. A thought that Jughead had been thinking a lot about yesterday comes to mind again. He hadn’t known when to bring it up, so he hadn’t. It nagged at him though. “Can I ask you something,” he starts, tentatively, “and if you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll drop it immediately?” “Ok,” Archie says sleepily. “I was just thinking – you said a few days ago you don’t talk to your mom much anymore…why?” he asks quietly. Archie is quiet. “It is too early for this, Jug…” “Sorry, don’t worry –“ Jughead starts, but Archie cuts him off. “No, it’s…I don’t know…” He pauses. “Do you remember, before I left I’d been talking to her less and less? It just sort – went, from there. She wasn’t happy about L.A, and it was like oh great, way to actually want to be –” He breaks off, sounding frustrated and deeply tired. “And then, I was so busy, and every time I actually did get to see her, it felt – disjointed and weird. And she just has this husband and this whole life that I didn’t fit into…but like, she’s not inviting me over for Christmas or anything, either. She’s happy with her new life. I don’t know why she even keeps calling me on my birthday…” Archie looks pained. Jughead considers his words carefully. “You know I get that. Whether my mom had reasons for leaving or not, it still hurt. And I didn’t fit her new life…I guess, what I’m saying is that,” Archie looks at him curiously. He thinks about it. “You know I love you… but I know that you had a tendency to let things go, like relationships with people, when it got too hard – not trying to scold you, but like…if neither of us had tried so hard to retrieve this, we wouldn’t be here right now, does that make sense?” Archie frowns, which then makes way for an expression of begrudging admittance. “Ok, ok,” he says slowly. “So you’re saying my mom’s like me like that, and I should – try and talk to her.” “I’m not saying you have to, but maybe – I regret that I didn’t try to fix my relationship with mine sooner, but we get along pretty well now.” He pauses. “Did you ever tell her what happened?” Archie shakes his head. “I didn’t want to burden her. And Dad never told her, I guess.” “Maybe…if she knew more about you, about what happened after she moved, you could start to rebuild yours? I know she loves you, whatever else happened.” Jughead says carefully, and hopes he hasn’t gone too far. Archie sucks in an anxious-sounding breath, but Jughead can feel his pulse, faintly, and it’s not spiking. “What if –“ he starts, very quietly, “ – what if I tell her about it, about everything, and she just…wishes I hadn’t told her? What if she doesn’t want to know?” Jughead can tell this is a deeply secret thought, only brought out by the safety of the room, the earliness of the hour, the closeness of their bodies. He instinctively turns to press a light kiss to Archie’s clavicle, and then looks up at him. “Then she’s an asshole. And Mary’s a lot of things, but I don’t remember her being an asshole.” Archie looks at him with some kind of wonder, and lightly puts his chin up to kiss him. “Thank you. Thank you for… thank you for never giving up, when it was hard.” He says, forehead resting against Jughead’s. He could almost laugh, but he doesn’t want to accidentally offend Archie. It wasn’t purely out of selflessness – more a dogged need to not lose another person he loved, until he was exhausted. “Yeah, well I’m sorry it took me so long this time,” he tries to joke. Archie smiles. “Well, it was kind of my turn anyway.” Jughead’s stomach lurches again, a learned reaction to anything good that he’s had since childhood, and then decides that just for now, he’s going to stop overthinking it, and just be here. In this room, with someone he loves, listening to the early-morning rain. * Josie smiles as she packs clothes into her suitcase, thinking about yesterday. It had been so good to be able to talk to Val again, like all that time they weren’t friends didn’t matter anymore. It was odd how it both felt like they were teenagers again and no time had passed, and also like so much had happened, and they were unmistakably adults now. But it was exciting, to be learning about each other’s lives again. She’d ended up spending the whole day with Val, and then Mel had come back around and they’d all stayed for dinner. Val’s semi-mysterious husband was as nice as she remembered, funnier than she did – and clearly madly in love with Val, who he looked at like some kind of miracle. Her phone buzzes, and she looks at it to see a text from Val. Hey josie – mel’s just said she’s been messing around on her old drumkit in her parents garage if we wanted to have a jam, you in? say about eleven? dan’s looking after jimi :) She beams at her phone, feeling nostalgic excitement at the thought. i’m so there, can’t wait!! :), she texts back. She hears a knock on the door, and goes to answer it, still beaming. It might be Veronica or Archie; but Veronica responded to her enquiring text that things had gone very well, and she might not be back before Saturday afternoon, and Archie hadn’t replied at all – which she hoped meant good things as well, and not that he was curled up in a depressive ball in his old room. She resolves to give him another call, just in case. Smiling as she opens the door, her face falls. “God, you are… honestly the last person I expected to see. What do you want?” she says, frostily. Cheryl looks professionally put together, but her ever-present red lipstick is nowhere to be seen. It makes her look young and strangely vulnerable, although her expression is determined. She takes a breath. “I wasn’t going to come. I understand why you don’t want to see me.” Josie sets her lips in a thin line. “So?” Cheryl frowns, very slightly. “So, someone reminded me that I’m not the kind of person who gives up. And so I’m here, to apologise, and to try to explain.” A painful tug-of-war has started for Josie, mentally. She wants to do the smart thing and decide to stop this particular conversation before it starts. Before it has a chance to hurt more, and she was feeling so good this morning, she can’t face the thought of spending the rest of the day emotionally wiped out again. But then again – she does know Cheryl. And that admitting fault and trying to apologise, at least first, is something she’s not always been good at. And she is morbidly curious to hear what she has to say. She looks away, and then back. “What if I don’t want to hear it?” “You can tell me to go, and I will,” Cheryl says, seriously. “But don’t you at least want to hear me out? Even just so you can close the book on me?” Josie looks away again and looks back, and then sighs. “Fine, come in.” Cheryl’s eyes widen slightly, but she keeps her face contrite. Josie is annoyed that she’s already giving ground, and makes sure doesn’t move more than a few feet past the door before stopping and crossing her arms, ready to hear what Cheryl’s going to say. Cheryl clasps her fingers together, looking anxious but still resolute. “I shouldn’t have, -” she pauses and starts again. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I never wanted to do that, and I realise I could have avoided that hurt if I hadn’t freaked out on you. I am really sorry about that, Josie.” Her voice is full of remorse, and her eyes glint. Josie regards her warily, narrowing her eyes. “That was pretty…awful, Cheryl. But the worst thing about it, about bringing up all of that, is that you –” she breaks off, already feeling a lump in her throat rising. “You could see it was upsetting me, and you just…kept going. So like, you’re sorry – I believe you didn’t mean to hurt me. I accept your apology. But, if you were me – would you trust you again?” Cheryl doesn’t say anything, looking pained. Josie stares back at her, aggrieved. “I – can’t say what you should do, Josie,” Cheryl breaks the silence. “All I can do is explain myself – I know I shouldn’t have had to ask. I know. It seems such a horribly moronic thing to ask, now, when I can think about it with a clear head.” Josie makes an upset, incredulous noise that she doesn’t even mean to. “So, why did you have to? It seemed pretty important at the time.” Cheryl looks at her, eyes full of regret. “I wish that I could go back to that moment, when it was perfect,” she pauses to take a stuttering breath, and Josie feels like she’s inhaled razorblades again. It almost hurts more that even looking so miserable and regretful, Cheryl is still achingly beautiful to her – if she had been born some five hundred years ago in Europe, she might have been a painter’s muse. You’d like to go back? So would I, she thinks bitterly. “Josie, I just…I was lying there, thinking how happy I was, and I had this thought. Not fully, but this realisation that it wasn’t just us. You had someone that you’ve shared things with I never will, and at that moment I was terrified, so fucking – terrified,” she breaks off with a soft gasp, takes a breath and continues. “Life is horrifically random, Josie. It takes and it just takes, for no reason. I shared my first breath in this world with someone, and I thought he would be there my whole life and he wasn’t. I never saw it coming, the person I loved most –” she pauses, wiping silent tears. “At that moment, I knew ten years never changed how I felt, and the most important thing was to try and find out whether someone else had any chance of snatching you – the most important person – away from me, and I assumed you not wanting to answer meant that you were – hedging your bets. I know that was completely wrong, and I regret so much about it, but do you understand why?” Cheryl looks at her with imploring, wet eyes and Josie badly wants to just forgive her, but it would be because she wants her not to look so sad, not to sound so small – not because she’s decided that she can trust her again. Pulling that card is unfair, because it forces her to feel sympathy. She takes a shaky sigh, close to tears yet again. “Yes. I understand that was a really painful time for you, Cheryl. I’ll always be sorry for you about it. But I need you to understand – I feel like I’m always giving ground here, and it always leads to me getting hurt.” “It’s not just you; you don’t think I had to concede anything to be with you?” Cheryl replies, frustrated. “Not enough! I – when we were together, I just wanted you to be happy. I let us be a secret, the whole year, and I would have told people about us. I was happy with who I was! You used to know that.” Josie shoots back, bitterly. “I know that! I’m sorry, I can't take it back, but of course I know! Josie, please –“ Cheryl pleads. “I don’t think I can trust you to know you’re hurting me, Cheryl!” Josie cuts through, tears now streaming freely down her face. There is a momentary silence, in which Josie almost wishes Cheryl would be her usual proud self and storm out. But she doesn’t. She stands her ground, crying but keeping Josie’s gaze. “I think – I can’t do this right now, Cheryl, it just hurts. I think – you should go.” Josie says, feeling emotionally exhausted. As she goes to try and open the door, Cheryl stands in front of it, wild eyed and desperate. “What are you doing?” Josie says with some frustration. Why does everything with her have to be a production? Then an unfair voice pipes up that that’s probably why they worked together. Cheryl stares back at her. “I don’t like admitting weakness, Josie – It wasn’t what I was ever brought up to do! But I know – I know I’ve got some problems to deal with, and I’m trying to. I pre-emptively ruined things between us because I was afraid of you leaving me, again. It hurt – enough – the first time.” Josie doesn’t know what to say to this. She’s not sure that she physically can say anything to this. Cheryl looks at her – fiery, vulnerable, a force of nature. “I love you, Josie. There are very few people who I do. That hasn’t changed,” she pauses, and takes a breath. “But I will go, and you can leave and never see me again, if you can say honestly that you don’t still feel the same.” Josie’s heart hammers, and her mind screams STOP DON’T TRAP WRONG WAY GO BACK “Tell me you don’t still love me, Josie,” Cheryl asks, and it’s a challenge, but also, instead of being part of any kind of power play - it’s just a raw appeal from a broken-up looking woman. Josie knows the smart answer might be no. Or she always assumed it was that. But maybe now, in this moment, she could be confusing the smart answer with the safe answer. “How can we work? We don’t even live in the same place! I don’t – ” she begins, stressing the logistics, like she always does. And then something occurs to her. She puts a hand to her eyes to wipe away some tears, and takes a determined breath. “Fuck it. I love you,” Cheryl gasps softly. “I don’t know… I’m afraid. I can’t say I totally trust you…but God, I love you –” She doesn’t finish because all she knows is that she’s kissing Cheryl. She doesn’t even know who started it, and it doesn’t really matter. All that matters is this moment, just them. Just all the memories. Just the beginning of something new. This moment might have ended, at least Josie wouldn’t have been the one to end it, and then Cheryl’s phone rings. She laughs very softly, resting her head against Josie’s. “I’m not answering it,” she says, defiantly. “Whoever it is will have to do without my excellence.” Josie laughs quietly. “Sucks to be them.” Their kiss is once again interrupted by her phone. “I’m so sorry, Josie, I’ll turn it off,” Cheryl says apologetically, pulling her phone out of her pants pocket. Josie laughs, and looks at her affectionately. “It’s fine, sounds important. Go on, I won’t be mad.” Cheryl looks at her gratefully, and picks up the call. “This better be important…” After a short, brisk but surprisingly nice-sounding conversation, Cheryl hangs up. “Ugh, the committee are all idiots. I took today off work so I could help them set the auditorium up for tonight, but sounds like they have no idea what they’re doing…obviously, though, it’s way less important than being here, though.” Josie shakes her head. As much as she wants to stay here and not have the rest of the world intrude, she’s feeling light and generous. This isn’t the end of them, they’re just beginning. She can spare an afternoon. “I’m sure we don’t want to go a party that wasn’t planned by you. Go, and – rule those committee idiots with an iron fist,” she says, with a laugh. Cheryl smirks. “Are you sure? I would totally rather stay here with you, but someone’s gotta do it.” Josie grabs her phone off the bed to check the time, and sees Val’s text. “Oh my God, I totally blanked! – I’m supposed to be hanging out with Val & Mel in like twenty minutes anyway, and cabs here are not reliable if you're in a hurry.” Cheryl looks relieved, maybe that she’s not just the one leaving. “I can give you a lift if you want?” Josie beams, and kisses her. “That would be great.” As she picks up her bag and jacket, she turns to see Cheryl is looking at her with a curious look, even though she’s still smiling. “What?” she asks, grinning. “So you're all friends again? That’s so great.” Cheryl says, genuinely beaming. “Yeah, I’m going over to Mel’s actually because she found her old drumkit and we thought it would be fun to have a bit of a practice, for old time’s sake.” Josie says, as they leave the room. “Interesting.” Cheryl replies, enigmatically. * “Stop it – God, you’re such a child – “ Jughead scolds, although the effect is fairly ruined by him laughing. “What am I doing? Come on, just take it,” Archie teases, holding a butter knife above his head. Music filters in from the living room, although given there’s no wall separating it, it fills the kitchen as well. Archie had insisted on putting some music on but hamstrung by his Dad’s much smaller collection, he had landed on an old CD he said was perfect for nostalgia – he used to hear when he was little, it was one of the few bands that his parents both shared a liking for. Smilin' in the bright lights, comin' through in stereo, when everybody loves you, you can never be lonely “I can just get another one, I don’t need –” He says half-heartedly, accidentally backing into the counter. “I regret everything, I’ve made a huge mistake here,” he says, but again his expression of fond exasperation probably isn’t convincing, especially going by Archie’s smirk. They had decided to come down and attempt to make some breakfast, and had settled on making toast – a normal adult thing to do, that had nonetheless led to some kind of play-fight where Archie had stolen his knife and was attempting to hold it out of his reach. Archie seemingly loses interest in the knife, smirking at him, close to him now. It’s a kind of look he’s not used to seeing from him, especially directed at him – but he can’t say that he minds. In a way, if he didn’t know what a mess Archie was, that look would be way too intimidating. It’s confident, intense, but also incredibly warm. It makes him feel like Archie doesn’t want anyone else but him here, in front of him, and it’s a strange feeling to get used to. “Hello,” he says softly, smiling at him. “Hello,” he replies, smiling easy and slow back. He takes advantage of Archie’s momentary distraction to steal the knife, and Archie mock-gasps. “I see how it is!” Archie says, easily pinning his arms against the counter, but with no more force than one would use in play fighting a child, or a young sibling. This is disheartening, because it’s not like he doesn’t exercise ever. “Do you give in?” Archie crows. “God, fine you – “ He says, and Archie is mid-lean for a kiss when he stops at the look on Jughead’s face. “What?” It’s only the smallest of probabilities, but if a sinkhole could just open up beneath his feet and suck him in whole right now that would be great. The last fifteen or so hours have felt stretched in time to him, like it can’t have just been yesterday afternoon that he was even considering telling Archie. They’ve crossed oceans of time since then, talking, not talking, and getting to know each other again. Their relationship had made a truly seismic shift; one that made him forget that there was even any outside world and indeed, anyone else in it. Until this very minute. “Your dad,” he mouths, and a little colour drains from Archie’s face. “Ah,” he says quietly, now beginning to flush red, and attempting to casually release Jughead’s arms and turn around in a fluid, nonchalant movement. Fred and Hermione are standing, stopped just before the living room becomes the kitchen, looking awkward and surprised. Jughead wonders how he didn’t register anything when he should have been able to see them come in – but the music is loud enough. And, he has to admit, he wasn’t really paying much attention to anything else, too wrapped up in the moment. “Hi Dad,” Archie says, smiling and attempting some kind of blasé tone, but betrayed by how red his ears are going. “How was the city?” It doesn’t look great, if they were ever going to ease Fred into the idea that’s pretty much out the window – Archie is shirtless and messy-haired, and Jughead’s wearing his old dressing gown. Not anything too scandalous, but also very hard to deny when put together with how they were when Fred and Hermione walked in. “Good, good.” Fred replies, also attempting a casual, everything’s-normal smile. It’s times like this Jughead can more clearly see how they’re related, and it reminds him of so much that had almost faded away in his memories as he got older. “We made good time from the city, actually. Not as much traffic as I expected.” Fred continues. “Yeah, we texted you because we weren’t sure if you’d be in, but I guess you didn’t get it…” Hermione adds, trailing off awkwardly, less practiced than the Andrews men at not mentioning the elephant in the room. “Yeah…” Archie replies. “Also, uh, Hi Jug. Good to see you.” Fred says, and Jughead nods clumsily, startled at being addressed. “Yeah, good to see you. Work’s been, intense, so, but good to see you guys,” he babbles. Archie snickers very faintly, and he has to work very hard not to smile at this. “Counting Crows, huh? I haven’t heard this album since you were little, Arch. I didn’t realise you liked them.” Fred says, after a moment, smiling less awkwardly. Music is a comfortable and easy thing for him to talk about. No one’s moved to turn the stereo off yet, so the music continues. Archie nods, smiling more genuinely. “I – yeah, I do… I was looking for something to play, and it was this or like, the entirety of 90s Seattle grunge. So much Nirvana, Dad.” Fred half-chuckles. “Hey, you gotta pay your respects to those who came before you, son.” Archie chuckles. The awkward tension in the room is dissipating. Hermione smiles graciously at them. She shares it with her daughter, a sort of – even-if-I-don’t-know-what’s-going-on-I’m-going-to-take-charge-of-the-situation – smile. “Well, we were going to put our bags away, and then make some lunch - you’re both welcome to join, if you don’t already have plans?” she asks, warmly. Archie looks at him quickly, raising his eyebrows. There’s no way for them to discuss this quickly without offending Hermione, so he just nods subtly, and looks back at her. “Yeah, if you’ve got enough. I didn’t mean to intrude –” he agrees. She shakes her head. “We’re always happy to see you, Jug. And we’ve got more than enough, so don’t worry about it…I’ll leave you to get dressed,” she says, and winces very slightly at the end. Archie nods. “Thanks, Hermione. I – uh, appreciate this. A lot.” She beams at him, and his ears begin to redden again. Fred nudges her, and they take their bags back into the hall. They take one look at each other and crack up laughing. “God, I thought I didn’t get embarrassed that easily, but wow.” Archie says, wheezing from how much they’d been laughing. “That might have been worse than the time he didn’t knock and Val and I were making out.” Jughead raises an eyebrow. “Really? That sounds pretty tame compared to –“ Archie shakes his head. “No it was pretty bad, we were both, uh, shirtless.” Jughead snickers at this. “You think you’re embarrassed? That was mortifying, and you know that I don’t say that lightly.” he says, still laughing. He has no idea what he’s going to say to Fred. How to explain this to someone who’s known him since he was a kid, let him stay in his house, regularly had him over for dinners over the last few years – he still almost can’t believe it himself. “Ah well. Silver lining, I guess we don’t need to worry about telling him?” he deadpans. Archie looks at him and they both crack up again. * Josie finishes the final note of the song, and all three of them cheer. “I think we’ve got it down,” Val laughs, behind her keyboard. “Still got it!” calls Mel, from the drums. “That was so fun!” Josie says, turning to face them. Mel laughs. “Oh yeah, my parents’ garage is much more exciting than any kind of festival main stage.” Josie shakes her head, exhilarated. “That’s fun, but I miss this. Not having anything riding on this, just having fun and playing music with you guys.” Mel nods. “Me too. I haven’t been practicing too much lately with work being busy, but this was so good for me.” Val smiles back at her, understanding. “Well, at least we’re all here now.” She feels so light it’s almost scary – it’s been so long since so much went right for her, at the same time. It’s enough to make her worry, but she’s trying not to stress about it. “Do you want to do another one?” she asks, beaming. “Actually, I wanna address something that I didn’t bring up, when you got here.” Mel replies, looking at her suspiciously. Josie feels a small frisson of panic in her stomach. Mel smirks. “Was that Cheryl’s car I saw dropping you off?” “Ooh, yeah I was wondering that,” Val agrees, smiling like when they used to tease Josie about her crush. Josie cringes, feeling like she’s sixteen years old again, but also strangely happy even being teased. It feels so nostalgic.“Yes, ok, she gave me a lift here,” she says demurely, but she can’t help grinning. “Last time I saw you, yesterday, you were telling me it was unsalvageable. I told you! Also, Jesus, you move fast.” Mel points out. Josie laughs. “Yeah, it’s been a long week. I mean, I had no idea – she came over just after you texted, and we talked it out, and it was all very emotional. I swear to God though, guys, I’m cried out – I’m gonna be the baddest bitch in town when I get home, because I’m pretty sure I literally can’t produce anymore tears. Which will obviously be good for my rep.” Val and Mel laugh. Val walks around the keyboard to put an arm around her. “I knew there was a reason you were so bubbly today!” she jokes. Josie looks at the both of them. “I’m bubbly especially because I’m getting a second chance to hang out with my best girls, both of whom I missed a lot.” “Aww, Josie. You say you’re a bad bitch but secretly you’re a softie, we know.” Mel says, walking up and putting her arm around Josie’s other shoulder. Josie laughs. “Too many people know my secret now, agh!” she says, and they’re all hugging and laughing, and she closes her eyes for moment, smiling giddily. Despite what she had just said, she feels like she could definitely produce a few more tears, but she keeps a lid on it. Her phone rings at that moment, and they release her to answer it. “Hey mom, what’s up?” she says cheerfully. “Hey baby, I just wanted to check in with you…you sound good! What’ve you been up to since – what, our lunch on Thursday?” her mom says, sounding surprised. She bites her lip, because it almost makes her laugh. Even Thursday seems like a long time ago, but it’s hard to explain quickly over the phone. “Seeing a few people, hanging out with Archie and Veronica, y’know. Got some exciting things I’d love to tell you over a lunch or something,” she says lightly. “What are you doing for lunch today?” She smiles and looks over at the girls, who are talking on the couch. “I’m afraid I can’t do today, sorry Mom. I’m hanging out with Mel and Val, we’re having a bit of a nostalgic band practice catch up.” Her mom sounds taken aback, but pleasantly. “You’re – hanging out with them again? That’s great, Jose – don’t let me get in your way then. It’s just a shame that with that reunion tonight, we won’t have much time to see each other, if you’re going to fly out tomorrow. I do miss you, you know.” “Well actually, I’m thinking of extending my stay a few days more – how does Sunday brunch sound?” *** Lunch hadn’t actually been too awkward, despite what Archie had feared. It was almost normal, except for how no one mentioned the obvious – that something big had changed in the time Fred and Hermione had said goodbye to him on Friday. Other than that, he almost felt like the odd one out at the table, but not in a bad way. He watched them and Jughead get along in an easy, lived-in way and realised for the first time how they’d become closer, looked after him in the time he’d been away – and he couldn’t stop smiling about it. He offers to help Hermione with the dishes, and she first declines kindly, saying that he’s a guest, but agrees when he persists. He almost can’t believe this is the same woman who used to have maids and didn’t do housework of any sort, but she’s clearly determined not to leave it all up to his dad, which he quietly appreciates. He wipes plates and puts them away as they chat amiably, and then she pauses as he’s putting a glass in a cupboard, and he knows she’s about to address it. She stops for a moment and smiles at him. “I know this isn’t how you do things,” she says quietly, and pauses, thinking. “But I just wanted to say – while we just have less of an, audience, that I’m not asking what’s going on, or that you have to say anything about it – whatever it is, I’m just thrilled to see you both look so happy.” He smiles at her, touched and somehow a little bit surprised by it. “I haven’t seen Jug, particularly, look like that in a long time,” she says, and smiles warmly at him. “I know he’s not a relation to me, but I’ve gotten to care a lot about him because of your Dad, and if that’s you then…I’m just thrilled. Because you mean a lot to me too, Arch, I care about you like my own.” She shakes her head, smiling. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I just mean – it’s good to see you happy.” He hugs her, ignoring her warning that her hands are wet. It gives him time to blink a little, and he feels able to answer when he pulls away. “Thanks, Hermione. It means a lot. I mean, you mean a lot to me. If you weren’t here, I’d feel a lot worse about leaving my Dad here, but it’s like…I know he’s ok, because he’s got you,” he says, quietly, smiling. Now she looks a little misty-eyed. “Thanks, Arch. You’ve got a good heart…I’m glad that big city hasn’t changed you too much.” He chuckles, and picks up another plate to wipe up. “I guess, I can try, but I can’t really hide it.” “Actually, have you talked to Veronica in the last day or so? She said that she would probably have plans for Friday, but she hasn’t replied to any texts that I’ve sent her since then.” Hermione asks, sounding puzzled. He looks at her and remembers Veronica’s plan, and hopes it’s gone well. “No, but I might try and call her too. See how she’s going.” Hermione nods, cheered. * Archie decides to visit Vegas outside in the yard. He’s in a nice spot in under the shade of the big tree, and the sapling his Dad told him he’d planted has sprung into a healthily-growing tree – thinner than the old big trees now, but it’s only been – eight years? Eight years. Looking at the grave hurts, but more distantly now. It’s been a long time. He’d been drinking a beer by himself – Jughead had gone home to change and possibly take a nap before what he referred to as “tonight-mare”, albeit with a fond smirk – and had found himself drifting outside to look at the grave. He hadn’t been out to it yet, maybe he hadn’t been able to bring himself to before. He raises the glass bottle in salute. “Sorry I wasn’t here, buddy. Hope you’re happy now.” He says quietly, and he knows it’s ridiculous, but it makes him feel better. It’s not like he’s religious, but somehow he has no problem believing his beloved dog might get some kind of afterlife. “I was wondering when you’d come out here.” He turns to see his Dad walking up to stand at the little grave with him. He nods slowly. “Yeah, I needed some time.” He pauses, looking at it. “I really love it, though Dad…it’s perfect.” His Dad smiles, a little sadly, his eyes familiarly crinkling at the edges. “Yeah, I thought he deserved it.” They stand quietly for a moment. “I remember when we got him, he was so little. And so were you, I guess.” His dad says, smiling at the memory. Archie grins. “But really, you shouldn’t have let a six-year-old name him. I have no idea where I picked up that name.” “I think I mentioned something about Las Vegas to your Mom once, and you picked up on the word and wouldn’t call him anything else.” Archie chuckles. “So…you’re an adult and can do what you like, obviously…but is there anything I should know about what’s been going on?” His Dad asks, carefully. There it is. The ‘what did we come back to’ talk, part two. He smiles sheepishly, and focuses on looking at the flowers blooming on the grave. “Ah, yeah…” He says, and takes a breath. “So, I’m sure you’ve guessed, some things have, changed.” “Yeah, that was pretty…” His dad replies, and trails off, looking intently at the grave. He briefly wonders whether he can just take off and run away from this conversation, and how long before he’d have to deal with the consequences. He takes another breath and steels himself, and looks back at his Dad. “It’s kind of a long story, but – we’re together, Dad. Me and Jughead. I know, it’s kind of weird and unexpected –” He’s surprised to see his Dad chuckle a little at this. “Not totally, Arch. I watched you kids grow up, remember? I already knew you loved each other, maybe I didn’t realise like – this, but mainly I’m more surprised that it happened after all these years of you guys not talking.” He pauses, grinning a little more. “And he slept in your room for months, despite the fact no one was using our guest room, so. It’s not a huge shock, once I think about it,” Archie can feel his ears are hot, but he can’t help grinning too. “So, I guess everyone worked it out before I did? Fuck.” “Hey, kid, you’re talking to someone who didn’t have things figured out when they were nearly twenty years older than you. Sometimes you gotta have experiences to learn what you want,” His Dad says kindly. He turns to him again, feeling very grateful. “Thanks, Dad. So…you’re ok with it?” His Dad looks mildly taken aback. “I’m no bigot, which you know, obviously. And just seeing the change in you today – I was actually, really worried about you when we left. You just looked so – hollow. Even while you were pretending you were ‘just tired’. But I figured you needed some space, and maybe you’d talk to me when I got home. I thought we’d just come home to you sleeping or watching TV or something…” he trails off, and his ears go pinker. It’s something they have in common, although Archie’s at this moment are redder. He continues, “But you just look so happy, when you look at him. In a way I haven’t seen on you, in years. So why wouldn’t I be? I want – more than anything – for the both of you to be happy, Arch. He’s kind of like – my other son,” he says, and then frowns. “But in a non-related to you way, of course…well, you get what I’m saying!” Archie cringes, smiling. “Yeah, I get it. You might want to – not say that to other people though.” His Dad laughs. “I’ll refine it.” They stand in comfortable silence. “Y’know, it was your Mom’s idea to buy you that dog.” His Dad says, cautiously. “She wasn’t sure she wanted to be pregnant again, or have another kid, but she wanted you to have a companion.” Archie takes this in. “Also, guess it’s easier to leave a husband and one kid and a dog to start a new life, than two kids. They can’t gang up on you that way.” He says, more bitterly than he meant to. His Dad looks at him, sympathetically. “I don’t think she ever wanted to leave you. Just here,” he pauses, and continues, “Are you going to tell her? She always cared about Jug, too, y’know. His mom and yours were pregnant around the same time, they were friends once… I’m sure she’d be happy to know.” He looks at his Dad, taken aback. “They were friends?” he says, and then he shakes his head. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. When am I going to tell her? Next July, when she calls me on my birthday for our usual horribly awkward talk?” His Dad looks strangely remorseful, and looks at him with tired eyes. “Arch, I – I know she’s made mistakes, and if I’m annoyed with her it’s mostly to do with her hurting you, even if she didn’t mean to. But don’t…” he sighs, like he can’t find the right words. “If you’re angry on my behalf, don’t be, I’m happy and I hope she is. But if you’re angry for yourself…Maybe you should try and tell her. Maybe you can work things out. Because I know, I know, that despite any mistakes she’s made, and however things got so distant, she loves you so much.” Archie looks away, and finishes his last sip of beer, blinking in the wintry afternoon sun. “Jughead said I should try and contact her too, actually. Is it a conspiracy between you guys?” he half-jokes. His Dad smiles, still a little sadly. “Only if the conspiracy is two people who care about you a lot, and just want you to be happy.” He nods, and takes a breath. “I am…happy. So maybe I can.” * Archie stares down at his phone. He had waited until Hermione and his Dad went to get groceries, so he could be alone to make this call, but now he’s just sitting on his bed paralysed, staring down at his phone. He hasn’t willingly called the number in years. He realises he has no idea what she even does on Saturdays, what she’d even be doing right now. If he’d be interrupting. But he has to now, or he’ll chicken out. He clicks on her contact, and presses the call button. It rings. His heart beats a fast tempo drumline. He’s about to hang up and give up on the whole thing, when suddenly it gets picked up. “Archie?” he almost hangs up out of shock. “I’m sorry, I had to run from the other room, are you there?” his Mom asks, sounding a little out of breath, and surprised. He finds his voice. “Uh – yeah. Are you busy? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just called –“ he croaks out. “No, no, it’s fine,” she cuts in quickly. “I’m…not busy. And I’m always happy to hear from you.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment. His mind is a blank, and he can’t remember what he was even going to say. “How are you?” she tries, hesitant. “I’m – I’m good.” He replies, stiffly. “That’s – good.” She echoes awkwardly. They lapse into silence, and he steels himself. For a second, he remembers sitting next to Jughead right here, just last night, holding his hand and wishes he was still doing it. But he’ll see him soon enough. This is something he has to do by himself. “Are you free to talk? Like, I need to say some things but if you’ve got to be anywhere soon it might be a bad idea,” he asks tentatively. He hears her breathe in and out on the other end of the line. “No, I’m just home by myself. What is it? Oh god, are you sick?” she says, and her voice gets more worried as she finishes the sentence, like it’s only just occurred to her. “No, no, I’m not.” He says quickly, and sighs. “It’s pretty fucked up though, that that’s the only obvious reason I would call you, isn’t it?” She breathes in and out, measured. “Yeah, it is that.” “I guess I’m not innocent here. It’s been fucked up on both ends, and I guess I stopped trying to see you, because it was easy to be busier with touring and recording and writing and whatever the fuck else,” he says slowly, considering his words. “But – you did it too. You let yourself get busy, and you should have tried more because you’re the parent! You’re my parent and you let this just happen!” He breaks off into a shaky breath. “I know, I know and I’m so sorry, hon,” she says, in a voice already heavy with remorse. “Why didn’t you try harder? Is your life just easier without me in it?” he continues, trying to stop his voice shaking. “No, no, no, Archie, no! I regret this distance between us every day, every day I think of you and I’m too afraid to call. My life has a hole without you in it!” she says, sounding anguished and small. “Clearly not that big! Why don’t you ever call me, except on my birthday, if you miss me so much? Why do you even bother?” he raises his voice in frustration, hating how upset he already is. She takes a moment to reply. “I should, I know – but I’ve felt for the past few years that I’m just an inconvenience to you – you never even want to tell me anything about your life anyway, and I get it, but it doesn’t make me feel like I can just call you when I feel like it. I couldn’t give up the birthday phone calls because they’re my last – my last link to you, hon,” she says, in a small, choked voice. “And you and your Dad have this bond that I felt I couldn’t – break into. And then he got married, and I’m sure Hermione’s a really great stepmom. Probably less of a fuck-up.” “Don’t give me that bullshit, I didn’t ever want to replace you with her, and I never tried to. And yeah, maybe I’m busier now, but you set up this distance before I even left high school!” He thunders, not trying to stop it shaking now. It feels like a football-sized lump is rising in his throat, but he keeps on. “God, I’m so angry at you, Mom! You just left – you just left us here, you left me, and I wasn’t old enough to lose you!” He realises he’s started crying, silent tears tracing tracks down his cheeks. He feels so tired, already emotionally worn out from this week. He can hear her crying over the phone too. “I’m so sorry, there’s no good excuse, Arch. I know I left you, but I never wanted to, you have to believe that.” “I don’t know, Mom! Some people only leave their kids because their husband is a drunk, and they’re worried for their and their kids’ safety, but one of them refuses to leave, to stay to look after their parent. We had none of that! How could you? Did you not love us? Did you not – did you not love me? Did you regret me?” he yells into the phone, and he feels about two minutes away from a panic attack but it’s strangely cathartic as well. He breathes heavily and waits for her to reply. He can hear her trying to stop crying, breathing in and out. She breathes out and speaks, sounding very small and sorrowful. “Oh my darling,” he has a flash of her saying that to him, very young, a memory he thought he’d totally lost. “God, I admit I wasn’t ready for your birth. There were a lot of…reasons, why, and maybe I shouldn’t have married your Dad. But none of it matters – maybe I should have told you this earlier, but I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t want you; that I didn’t – love you. I loved you from the moment I saw you. But I… needed some help, to get happier and be a good mom for you, and I tried so goddamn hard, Arch.” He feels paralysed again, focusing on only her words and breathing in and out steadily, trying to keep panic at bay. “And I did it, in so much as you ever can with that sort of thing. I promised you I would get better, and be a good mom, and I did it. I never wanted to stay in that small town, and barring certain things I would have probably never stayed longer than a few months after college.” He unsticks his vocal chords indignantly. “So it’s my fault? I’m to blame for you leaving?” “No, no, honey, please – I’m just trying to explain,” she says quickly, sadly. “I tried to build a life in the town that I spent all my teenage years waiting to leave. And I did, for a while. But – I got that job opportunity here in Chicago when you were thirteen, and I knew you would never want to leave your dad, and your friends and your house. But there were a lot of bad memories there for me, and the chance to escape them was just – it felt like a lifeline. I wanted to have you here; I wanted to be in your life, even just on the phone but I kept missing you in that last year before you went off to Los Angeles. I didn’t know how to fix it, and you didn’t have much time to visit me, and I know I was busy a lot that year too, and I wish I’d made more of an effort then. What does work mean if you hate me?” He sighs deeply, gets his voice under control. “I don’t – I don’t hate you, Mom. But I wish – I so fucking wish that you hadn’t left me at that age. I needed you there, Mom! You know what happens to a kid whose only parent is busy trying to keep up with mortgage payments, and keep a business afloat?” he asks, voice strained and continues with, “They can get away with a lot. Because they’re not supervised, and no-one else is there to ask them what they’re – what they’re doing…” He feels panic rising again, and tries to regulate his breathing before it becomes a full-on attack and he can’t remember how to. “I don’t – what are you saying, hon?” she says, sounding confused, but afraid, like she knows something big is coming. “I’m saying –” his voice shakes uncontrollably. “You should have been there. You should have been there to ask me why thirty-five year old women in fucking vintage blue VW Beetles were dropping me home after working at Dad’s – you should have asked what kind of teacher does that? – you should have been there and asked where I was going and why I was sneaking back in at midnight, or fucking one am at fifteen! I was fifteen, and you should have fucking known about it but you decided I could FUCKING FEND FOR MYSELF, AND I NEEDED YOU THERE!” He roars, voice constricted with emotion and he sits there, heaving with sobs, feeling like he’s finally released a ten-tonne weight he’d been carrying on his shoulder for twelve years. She had gasped a few times during his rant, but now he can only hear her breathing. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god,” she repeats, quietly horrified, like she’s locked in a loop. She sounds like she’s in shock, even though she’s only hearing it. He can’t say anything, so he just sits there and cries. “How,” she starts suddenly, sounding aghast. “That was – that was less than two years after – why didn’t you tell me…does your Dad know?” He sighs, a shaky breath out. “Yep.” She gasps, not dramatically but like she can’t help it. “Why didn’t he tell me? I would have come back earlier, oh my God…” her words are cut off by a horrified sob. He breathes in and out. “I asked him not to. I thought you’d freak out, and I didn’t think anything really bad had happened, just sort of – socially wrong…” he lets out a shaky, bleak laugh. “You know, I wish – I wish now, he’d been angrier. It’s not his style though…We kind of, without saying it, agreed not to talk about it. We don’t.” “God, I’m just so sorry…I know that’s not enough, I’m so –” she breaks off, with the sound of a swallowed sob. “What happened to her? Did you try to – prosecute her?” she asks, suddenly. He almost laughs, it’s such a lawyer thing to say. “No, when we got found out – she offered to quit her job and leave town, and she did. She was gone the next day. And it’s not like at time I wanted –” he breaks off. “Don’t be angry at Dad. He was dealing with enough, and he really thought getting her out of town and out of my life was the most important thing.” “I’m glad that he did that,” she says, her voice achingly small and broken. “Yep.” He takes a few more measured breaths and begins to talk again. “I – I think, ever since she left I began to get this growing feeling – I thought she loved me,” he can’t help barking out the same strange, bleak laugh. “But I was realising that maybe she didn’t, and then I realised a lot of things had been fucked up. Maybe I’ve been… subconsciously blaming you for it for not being here, ever since.” “You should blame me. I should have been there to ask you those things, hon, I should’ve been there,” she says, sounding utterly heartbroken. “I’m so fucking selfish. You were my greatest achievement, really, and I wish I’d tried harder to get you to come with me or to stay with you until you were – older…” she dissolves into tears. It’s strange – before this conversation his general feelings towards her had been a painful ball of anger, frustration and grief, but since he had gotten the secret off his chest, he found he didn’t want to punish her anymore. Her reaction to it was probably punishment enough. “Mom, mom, listen to me. I used to not at all understand you, really, why you left, how you could do it,” he says comfortingly. “But, I’ve come to realise we’re more alike than I want to admit sometimes. I have a habit of letting important relationships go, because I’m afraid and it’s too hard to fix when I’ve hurt someone. I hurt people I cared a lot about because of it. And I left this crappy town, because I had to get out too, and I left people here who were devastated by that.” She sniffles on the other end of the line. “But if they can give me a second chance, after I haven’t seen them in so long…maybe I can give you one.” He says, uncertainly. “Really, hon?” she asks softly, like she doesn’t believe him. “You’re my mom. Of fucking course I miss you…” he sniffs. “I miss you too, honey, so much. Every day. When I hear you and your friend’s songs on the radio – and they’re really good, and I’m usually too old to enjoy pop music, so,” she says, with a wetly self-deprecating laugh. He half-laughs, a similarly sodden sound. “Whenever I go to the places I used to take you when you’d come here. When I ever go to Millenium Park and I look at the “weird bean sculpture” that you liked. I miss you everywhere.” “Me too.” He says, smiling at the memory. “Can I come and visit you? I can come to L.A, and I’ll get time off – that is, if you want me too. I don’t want to overstep…” she asks, cautiously hopeful sounding. “No, I would – I’d like that, Mom.” He says, smiling, even though he feels light-headed from crying. “When? I actually don’t care what work says, I’ll come to L.A whenever. I’d come tomorrow if you wanted it,” she says, half-jokingly. “Yeah – actually, I’m not in L.A. right now. I’m actually sitting in my old bedroom, right now,” he says, remembering she has no way of knowing on just a voice call. “Your old bedroom?” she says, surprised. “In Riverdale? Are you visiting your Dad?” He sighs, thinking about the last week. “It’s actually been the first time I’ve been back since I flew to L.A – Josie and I got invited to our ten year reunion here.” “That’s interesting. I obviously didn’t go to mine, but then again I did attend that Homecoming Reunion thing, so that was…something. Have you had the reunion yet?” He can’t help an involuntary weak laugh. “We’ve had a few. But the official one is tonight.” “Ah, interesting. So, have the reunions been good?” He laughs again, still weakly. “It’s been…a lot. But I’m so glad I came. I had some wrongs to right. We both did.” “I guess…it’s nice to have a friend with you. I don’t know Josie well, but you guys seem close.” She continues, carefully. He smiles, looking out the window. “Yeah, she’s awesome. Maybe you can get to know her better sometime.” “I’d like that…” she says quietly, unmistakeably happier. “So – do you still see Jughead? He was a good kid.” He smiles wider, fighting down a laugh. “It’s kind of a long story, but uh…we’re dating now.” He’s not sure what her reaction will be. He realises he’s never actually told her he’s bisexual, and the whole struggle to becoming comfortable with that label, if publicly secretive about it. Nor does she know about the ten years he didn’t speak to Jughead, or why it feels like such a personal triumph. It’s strange to realise how little they know about each other, now. She takes a second to respond, but sounds very happy, if surprised. “Wow, Archie, that’s so great! I guess I really am out of the loop,” she says, self-deprecatingly. “Since when?” He can’t help but laugh this time. “Abooout…nineteen hours ago, maybe? And before this week I hadn’t seen him since I left town…” She laughs too, sounding surprised. “Wow. You’ve had a big week, then.” “Yeah.” He says, feelingly. Understatement of the year, but not wrong. He feels like he wants to tell her things, like a more vulnerable early-teenage him is poking out, excited to talk to her like this again, but he hesitates to ask. “Hon, I just want to say – I’m not sure it matters as much to you as your Dad, or,” she pauses a moment. “Clearly, I’ve got some catching up to do with you. But I just want you to know that – I’m overjoyed you sound so happy. No thanks to me, I guess… but I hope you know that I love you. Everything about you. And I’m excited to get to know you again.” He needs a moment or two before he can respond. He focuses on a tree outside the window until his vision clears. “Me too, Mom,” he says, throatily. “I – I love you too.” * Jughead sits at home, having showered and dressed, and picks up his phone. “Hey kid. What’s goin’ on?” his Dad answers. His Dad often calls him kid, like he’s not an adult now, like he hadn’t learned how to not be a kid from a very early age, but he’s learned not to mind. It’s kind of affectionate, something he was not so good with when Jughead was growing up. “Just wondering if you’re busy? If not, I was thinking of coming over to say hi? Maybe eat a late lunch? I could bring burgers from the diner, if you want,” he asks. “No I’m not - sounds great, Jug. Guess I’ll see you in what, half an hour? Forty-five?” his Dad replies, sounding pleased. “See you then,” he says, with a small smile. * He makes his way over with two burgers, and a side of onion rings. He makes sure always to tip generously at Pop’s, which he sees as basically paying off all the free or discounted food and coffee he’d been allowed there when it was almost another home for him. Pop had kindly turned a blind eye to and mostly refused to take his money for it, stating that his mom had been a hard-worker and a good, kind woman and her son would always be treated well there, even if she wasn’t working there anymore. He knocks on the door of the mobile home, and enters. It’s always heartening to see that his Dad’s cleaned up the place. It’s a good indicator of his mental state, though he’s never gone back to how bad he was just before Jughead finished college. His Dad hasn’t shaved, but it’s short enough that the growth is probably only a few days old. That’s one of his routines; he makes sure he keeps a routine of shaving and cleaning the trailer. One of the things he learned in the program and took to heart. His Dad hugs him on seeing him. He might have been mostly bad at showing affection when Jughead was much younger, but credit where credit is due, he’s gotten steadily better at it. This might be especially due to them continuously trying to work on their relationship over the years. “Hey, Jug. What’s with you?” he asks, squinting a little at him, “You look happier’n a pig in shit,” Jughead realises that he’s smiling probably more than usual. “Not that that’s a bad thing, of course.” His Dad adds hastily. “Just wondering.” Jughead nods, grinning. “Yeah…some things that I’m gonna tell you about. But let’s eat – I brought burgers, and onion rings.” His Dad smiles widely. “Good man.” They’ve always been good at talking when there’s food – like a kind of distraction, not having to react to everything when your mouth is full. Jughead’s always been comforted by having food nearby, particularly burgers. When you’re not sure whether you’ll be fed or have money to feed yourself, you get trained to always eat what’s on your plate and never turn down anything edible. It’s something he has discussed with his therapist, a crutch he didn’t even realise he was using. He sometimes wonders he’s not the size of a house, but his body has stubbornly stayed gawky and thin even despite efforts to exercise, maybe put on the barest amount of muscle. “This new parking lot is almost finished. The client seem like they’re gonna bring in more jobs, which is good. Fred’s happy about it.” His Dad says, mildly. “That’s good.” Jughead replies. He’s not sure what else to say, but he tries very hard not to seem condescending about his dad’s life. It’s small, mostly unexciting, sure – but he’s doing really, really well for a sober ex-alcoholic with a sporadic employment record and a history of run-ins with the law. He smiles, a bit twisted. This is where Jughead feels most closely related to him, in that look. He’s always been more handsome than Jughead feels like he is, even with age and gone to seed – in older photos he can really see what drew beautiful, four-years younger Laura to him, but sometimes he thinks that JB got their attractive genes for herself, and skipped over him mostly. “Fuck, I’m boring myself here, Jug! Tell me what’s going on with you. Last time we talked I think you said,” he pauses to think about it, “You said, you and Red were going to catch up. Takes a lot for a man to forget being proud over past slights, and make the first move in reconciliation. Proud of you.” Jughead looks at his Dad in bemusement. “Come up with that yourself?” His Dad chuckles. “Something someone said at AA last week.” Jughead smiles, and nods. “So how did it go? You guys work anything out?” His Dad asks, and smiles a little wistfully. “I remember you two as kids, thick as thieves. I sometimes look at you, and I think if you’re so grown up now, what does that make me? Sometimes I forget I’m not twenty-two anymore…then I look in the mirror, and I see an old man looking back,” he chuckles. “So, yeah, you work it out?” Jughead sighs, wondering how to explain. “Uh, yeah, something like that,” he says, and looks at his Dad. “There might be some changes coming up, and I wanted to ask how you’d feel about,” he pauses, feeling his mouth going dry. “If I moved away from here, maybe, sometime. Sooner, rather than later.” His Dad looks surprised, but nods as he takes it. “You get a job somewhere else?” “Dad, come on, just tell me what you think. Nothing’s certain,” he says, although he realises while saying it, that it’s at least kind of a lie. He’s never been more certain about anything in his life, and while nothing’s been decided, he can’t see Archie wanting to come back and live here with him. He nods. “Ok, ok. I’d be a little sad, I guess – you’re my boy, I like being able to see you easily.” Jughead’s stomach drops. His dad isn’t finished, though. “But your sister lives in the city, and I still see her pretty regularly, right?” He acknowledges it with a nod. “If you’re here, there, or the other fuckin’ side of the world, we’ll find a way to keep in touch, Jug. I know I haven’t always been there for you, but I’m trying to be now. That won’t change if you’re not here.” His dad says, looking at him seriously. He has a sinking feeling though, and he looks away for a moment, then looks back. “If I did leave…I would just – I’d want to feel like you had someone here. To check in on you, and see how you’re going. I don’t think I want to leave you if that’s not the case.” He says carefully, feeling pained. His dad sighs, and for a moment, looks tired and as old as he actually is. “Jug…Jug, you’re breaking my heart here. You’re always looking after me, you always have. When your mom and JB left, you tried to make sure I’d be ok, even though maybe you’d have been better off… When I fucked up so badly I thought you’d want nothing to do with me, you put yourself last again, to help your Dad…” he breaks off. His eyes are full of some deep emotion, and he rubs them tiredly. “There’s never gonna be a time when everyone’s perfectly happy. But I need you to put yourself first, whatever this new change is… God, get out of this craphole town, you’re too smart for this place, kid. We’ll be ok. You need to do whatever this is for you, ok?” He says, imploringly. Jughead breathes deeply, feeling emotional as well. “Thanks, Dad,” he says quietly. His dad smiles weakly. “If I can give you advice on anything, it’s that.” He waits a beat. “You don’t need to tell me, y’know. But what…is it?” Jughead feels his cheeks go warm. It’s not like his Dad has no idea about him, had even met Kit once or twice – and been aware of who he was; but it’s also not like they talk about either of their love lives with each other. It’s not something they do. He takes a deep breath. “So I said I worked things out with Archie…that’s true, but not – we’re together. Romantically, together, I mean.” Why did he need to qualify it? Of course together is enough. He stops himself babbling by shoving an onion ring in his mouth, still feeling his cheeks are hot. He makes himself look at his Dad, and is somewhat surprised by how chill he seems to be. He’s nodding slowly, smiling, with an almost melancholic look in his eyes. “You and Red, huh? Ok.” He says simply. He looks at his Dad, surprised. “That’s it? I haven’t seen him for a decade and you’re not at all surprised by this?” His Dad shrugs. “People are complicated, sure. But they’re also essentially who they always were. Plus, I guess it’s hard to forget your first love.” He’s certainly taken back by this. “How –” His Dad grins, a little wistful. He’s generally wistful-looking a good eighty-percent time of the time, though. “I might have had some substance problems when you were growing up, but I wasn’t blind. I was young once, I remember what it looks like.” He sighs, smiling a little ruefully. “Yeah. If we’d been smarter we might have figured it out earlier.” “Yeah, well life’s a bit like that,” he says wisely. “But as a friend of mine at my meetings likes to say, ‘Everything happens for a reason’,” he frowns a little. “Not sure I completely believe that, but maybe some things, good, bad, happen for a reason. I don’t know. She’s a nice woman. Not an idiot.” Jughead smirks curiously at him. “You like her?” His dad grins abashedly. He flushes in the exact same way, it’s another way he sees their resemblance. “We’re talking about your love life, not mine! You don’t wanna know about mine. Very boring.” “Sure, sure. Maybe you should ask her out.” he says, half-teasing. “We’re friends!” his Dad protests, but he’s smiling. * “Dad just dropped me off – Jose, I’m literally walking in,” he says, laughing, into his phone. “Ok, see you in like two minutes.” He nods jovially at old Mrs Baker, who gives him a knowing smile. He feels excited, strangely, as he knocks on Josie’s door. She opens it, wearing her familiar patterned dressing gown. Her face is made up, and looks deeply, soulfully happy. They almost don’t need to say anything – the outcomes of their different problems to solve are written in their expressions, they’d know if something bad had happened. So he just hugs her tightly. After a while, she lets him go, and lets him come into the room. Three different dresses are splayed on top of garment bags on the bed. “Did you seriously bring all of these from L.A with you?” he asks, with a laugh. She shakes her head at him in mock-annoyance. “It’s nice to have options, ok?” He nods, grinning. He recognises one of them. “Aw, is that your birthday present? Josie, you ol’ softie.” She clearly can’t even pretend to be annoyed, and she beams at him. “It still fits fine. I was thinking of wearing it…I mean tonight’s basically a nostalgia-fest, why not?” He grins. “I think you should.” “So, not that I need to ask I think – but tell me how it went?” she asks excitedly. “I meant to call you this morning, but I got caught up – it’s a story – and I was worried when you weren’t answering your phone. Well, I hoped it was just cause you were otherwise distracted.” He can’t help smirking. “Yeah I also have a story to tell you but I’m dying to hear about Val – you guys made up right? That’s why you’re so happy?” Her eyes go wide like something has just occurred to her. “Oh my god, I didn’t tell you! So I’ll tell you the Val stuff, but I have to skip ahead to this morning first. I was getting ready to go out, and Cheryl appears at my door,” “No!” “Yes! So she’s there…” * “…and they kind of caught us like almost making out? It was one of the most awkward moments of my life. Maybe worse than the time I accidentally insulted Taylor Swift at that Grammys afterparty.” “She was death-staring you so much I was certain she was going to write a song about you, called Dear Ginger Idiot,” Josie says, amid gales of laughter, remembering. “Almost making out though? How were you almost making out?” She looks at him, still laughing. “Well we weren’t like – doing anything, but it was also pretty fucking obvious that we had been, God, it was mortifying,” he laughs. “But kind of hilarious in hindsight. Dad and Hermione’s faces, oh man.” “So hilarious,” she laughs. “That sounds even worse than the Val incident.” He looks at her. “How do you know about the Val incident?” She gives him a very long-suffering look, and he looks sheepish. “Oh, yeah. And that was pretty bad.” She can’t help laughing again. “It was. She was all, oh my god Josie I’m gonna die of shame I can never look Mr Andrews in the face again he might have seen my bra oh my god, and I was like I told you it was mistake to date Archie, I’m just saying.” “God, and I forget sometimes how much you were against that. And me. For fair reasons, I’ll say,” he laughs, and adds defensively, “And I don’t think he saw anything, really, I dove in front of her and he shut the door almost immediately.” “Really, Archie?” comes a teasing voice from the open door. “And here I thought it was just an embarrassing once-off when it happened with my mom, but now I hear it’s a pattern?” Josie turns to see Veronica walking up to them, an easy, contented smile on her face. “Ronnie!” they both say, excited. “And look, it’s not my fault that apparently your mom and my dad don’t know how to knock,” Archie adds, before hugging her. “I’m guessing things went well for you guys?” she asks as she hugs Josie, sounding delighted. “Yep.” Archie says simply, grinning. “I’d say so,” Josie says. “But hey – I’m getting a lift from Archie via Jughead apparently, because Cheryl’s setting up at the school, why aren’t you getting ready with – oh no, did it not –” Veronica beams, shaking her head. “No it did. Betty apparently agreed to help, and forgot about it, and didn’t want to piss Cheryl off by blowing her off – plus she wouldn’t do that, anyway. So, I was thinking I could maybe go with you guys?” “The celebrity contingent, then?” Josie chuckles. “Definitely, you can come with us,” “The celebrity contingent, and Jughead, my…boyfriend?” Archie frowns a little. “That sounds weird. I’m gonna have to figure that out.” *** Betty has to admit, under Cheryl’s totalitarian micromanaging, the old high school auditorium looks pretty good. “Tina, I swear to God – “ comes Cheryl’s voice, sounding very frustrated. But then surprisingly, she takes a breath and actually smiles at Tina. “Sorry, Tina. What I’m – trying – to say is, those balloons should go more to the right. Like I told you before. Which is fine, because I know you recently had a baby, and aren’t responsible for your new mommy-brain.” Betty passes the very confused looking Tina Patel, and walks up to Cheryl. “Wow, that was pretty nice of you, Cheryl,” she says, bemusedly. Cheryl smiles beatifically. “Guess I’m in a generous mood today, one where idiotic behaviour of certain old classmates doesn't bother me at – Chas, if you’re moving those chairs away from where I told you to put them, I swear on my Nana’s grave, you’d better have a will!” she barks at a blonde ex-footballer from their year, then turns back to Betty with her smile back in place. Betty grins. “Yeah, I’m feeling pretty good today myself.” Cheryl beams at her. “You look positively radiant, actually. Love that dress.” “Thank you, Cheryl, you look amazing, too. Now, I think I’ve finished all of my tasks, is there anything else you need right now?” “You’re a lifesaver, and so far one of the only people here who has any idea what you’re doing. Could you go ask Reggie what drinks list his bartending staff are working off?” she asks, ticking something off on her phone. “Got it,” she says, smiling. She finds Reggie unloading bottles at the bar area that’s been set up. “Betty, hey,” he says, smiling when he sees her, then he frowns. “Wait, Cheryl sent you here didn’t she? What does she want now?” She cringes. “Sorry. She needs to know the drinks list you’re using?” He sighs dramatically. “God, that woman’s going to be the death of me.” He turns to one of his bartenders. “Jem, can I get a drink list off you?” He hands the list to her. “She better not want to change anything. This is what’s happening.” Betty smirks. “Oh, are you gonna tell her that if she does?” He snorts. “Of course not. You’re gonna do it for me.” She laughs, and turns back. Kevin is over sorting nametags with Cheryl, and they look deep in conversation. “Drinks list, done,” she says, handing it to Cheryl. Cheryl looks at it, and Betty braces for some kind of spat, but then she smiles and puts it down. “I’m sure he thinks I’m being controlling, but I was just making sure no-one who is coming is allergic to anything. I do care, you know. We do this for a living.” Kevin nods. “Amen to that,” he says, and then to Betty, kindly, “How are you doing? Feeling better?” Cheryl looks as confused as she feels for a moment. “Better?” she asks, not registering his meaning. He looks at her, confused. “Than you were Thursday night?” She can feel herself blush. “Oh my god, ok, yeah. Everything’s fine. Better than fine. We’re good.” Cheryl raises an eyebrow, smiling. “Veronica?” She nods, beaming. Cheryl smiles victoriously. “Don’t say I never do anything for you, Cooper. I had to browbeat some poor assistants to get the number that got her here.” She rolls her eyes, but she can’t stop smiling. “Thankyou, Cheryl.” Kevin smirks at them happily. “Aw, look at you two, with your new-old girlfriends. I’m so proud, it’s more than my little gay heart can take.” Cheryl laughs, shaking her red hair over her shoulder. Betty takes a minute to register, then looks at Cheryl. “Wait, you too? Wow. This has been a week.” “Is that why you’ve been in such a good mood?” she asks, smiling. Cheryl beams. “Yes.” * It was kind of weird, watching some of the same people she saw around town milling in, taking name badges, and then seeing some others who had moved on to bigger places back too. Veronica wasn’t here yet, though. “So, Josie’s apparently coming with Veronica, and Archie and Jughead.” Cheryl says, smiling as she hands a namebadge to someone. “And, yes my money’s on them being together. My advice is brilliant, and everyone should listen to me.” Kevin grins, having agreed to sit with them until his husband arrives. “Actually, true. Some of the time. And also, that’s an easy bet. No deal.” Betty looks at them, and is about to comment when she sees all four of them enter. Veronica leads them over, amidst the goggling eyes of former classmates. Betty knows she’s long used to having everyone stare at her. They can’t help it, they outshine everyone around them – something about having been industry based on people’s adoration of you for so long, and their obviously-expensive clothes that are probably not even anywhere near their best or most expensive clothes they own, it’s like it casts a corona of light around them, even though she knows it’s a trick of her imaginative mind. “Hey, I’m here for the ten year reunion?” Veronica says nonchalantly. Betty laughs. “Uh, Lodge, was it?” Behind Veronica, she notices – Josie, beaming at Cheryl; Archie, looking handsome and well-dressed; and Jughead, looking slightly nervous, but also lighter and happier than she’s seen him look in a long time, unmistakably holding hands with him. She catches his eye for the briefest moment, and he nods infinitesimally at her, a flick of his chin. She smiles at Veronica, and beyond her to him. * Josie dances with Cheryl, and doesn’t care that a lot of her old classmates are either staring at her, or pretending they’re not staring and trying to look at them when they think neither of them are looking. “God, could they look any harder? Come on, I know this is a small town but this shouldn’t be that shocking.” Josie whispers. “I mean, it might be the gay thing, or it could be that they didn’t expect to see a famous person is at their high school reunion. Even one they went to school with. No way to know.” Cheryl points out. Josie looks at her. “You know, I’m used to people being in my business, everyone looking at me. I’ve stopped caring…I never asked, are you ok with it?” Cheryl gives her a look similar to one she gives Archie if he says something particularly oblivious. “Have you forgotten who you’re with? People have been looking at me in some way my whole life.” She looks at Josie, deeply affectionate. “At least we control the narrative from here on out.” Josie beams back. “I’m glad I’m here.” Cheryl’s phone beeps. “Ooh, I think it’s time, babe.” Josie nods. “I’ll go find them after this song.” * Archie leaves Jughead talking to Betty to get a drink, and hears a familiar voice. “Andrews! You don’t call, you don’t write. What’s a guy to think?” Reggie says, on his right. He turns around, cringing slightly. “Yeah, I’m really sorry, I’ve had a really intense week – “ Then he realises Reggie is smirking widely. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, Arch.” He shakes his head, grinning. “Fuck you, Reggie.” Reggie laughs. “It was fun, though. I see you’ve worked things out with Jug, huh?” He can’t help but smile. “Ah, yeah. I didn’t – see it coming together. But it did.” Reggie nods. “Good for you, then.” He says, a little more honestly than usual. He sees someone and snaps back to smirking. “Great catching up, but I gotta go see how Ava Lau is doing. Wish me luck!” * It was both weirder than and not as weird as Jughead would have ever imagined, dancing with Archie at one of these things. On one hand, there were all the stares. He was certain anyone with a vague knowledge of their friendship was fairly confused by this, not having been privy to anything before tonight. But he was used to people staring at him, used to sticking out like a sore thumb. It turned out it didn’t bother him as much when he had someone else to rely on, that everyone was looking at too. He too was used to it, by now. Betty comes up during the end of a song. “Hey, Arch, do you think I could steal him from you for the next song?” Archie looks at her cheerfully. “Of course. I was just thinking I’m a bit thirsty, anyway.” He turns to Jughead. “Do you want like, a coke or anything?” “No, I’m fine. Thanks.” He says. Archie gives him such a look of such fondness, he has to look away for a second. He’s attempting to work on seeming like he doesn’t like the attention – more he still can’t quite believe it, how much this person loves him. “I’ll be back, soon,” he says, smiling and disappearing off into the crowd. Betty slips into his place, swaying slowly with him. “So, I guess we’ve got some things to talk about, huh?” she says, smiling, sheepish. He chuckles feebly. “Yeah, you could say that.” “So, you listened to Kevin, I see,” she says, beaming. “I’m so…I can’t believe you managed to…” “What?” he says, both kind of amused and indignant. She gives him a look. “As someone who literally grew up with you both, honestly…I’m surprised we got here at all. But I’m, overjoyed that we are. You were both my best friends, of course I am! And you haven’t stopped smiling since I saw you walk in.” She looks at him with a mixture of pride and deep fondness. He looks away then catches her eye, still smiling. “I know, it’s going to ruin my brand.” She laughs. “So. You’re back with Veronica? Not to be rude but – I thought she was engaged?” he asks. She looks away to where her date is dancing with Kevin, then back. “Not anymore.” Jughead nods. “Wow. That’s a big gesture.” Betty smiles, a little nervously. “Yep.” They don’t say anything for moment. “Everything is about to change, Juggie. I’m excited, but also…” she says quietly enough that he almost doesn’t hear her over the decade-old pop song playing. “Scared? Yeah. I get you.” he replies. “But as my Dad is fond of saying to me now, ‘you can’t change what happened in the past, you can’t control what happens to you in the future, but you can control how you react to it.’.” Betty raises an eyebrow. “Sober wisdom, I think,” he says dryly. He looks at her. “He’s right though. You’re gonna go for this interview, you’re gonna be amazing, you’re gonna get it, and then you’re gonna finally move out of here. And you’ll have her. Make your fear productive, Betts.” Her eyes look misty and she buries her face in his suit jacket for a moment. “Say you’ll come visit me all the time when I move to NYC? I’ll miss you too much otherwise…I don’t want to have to choose between these two lives, my best friend or my girlfriend, I love them both,” she asks, looking pensive. He smiles. “Well first step. Move there. Worry about that first,” he says, and she smiles, “But as for having to choose…” He looks over, seeing Archie coming over through the crowd. To look at him he looks perfectly genial, comfortably happy but his smile definitely brightens on catching sight of Jughead again, making his stomach do that weird flippy thing again it’s been doing since Friday afternoon. “I don’t know that you have to,” he says enigmatically. “But Archie said he was thinking of getting out of L.A. for a while, and it’s not like he’s gonna move back here, so I might have to come along…” She squeals, looking ecstatic, and throws her arms around him. “Wow, bad time?” Archie jokes, coming up to them. She releases him to hug Archie, who looks surprised but grins even wider. * The music stops as Cheryl takes the stage, which is dramatically lit on her. Archie wouldn’t expect anything less from her. “Hello, fellow classmates of 2019, who’s having a good night?” she says confidently to the crowd. Everyone cheers. She beams at the crowd. “Well that’s good because I have a special treat for you all... I’ve been a fan since their early days, and to know them is to love them. For one night only, our year’s premier musical talent, please show your appreciation for Josie and the Pussycats!” Cheryl says, totally in her element. The stage lights go up to reveal instruments on stage, and Josie, Mel and Val in their familiar set up. Cheryl nods at Josie, beaming, and walks to the side of the stage. Josie puts her lips close to the mic. “Hi everyone. I’m sure some of you remember me, I’m Josie McCoy,” she’s probably half-joking. The audience laughs anyway. “This band was very important to me when I went here,” she looks back at Val and Mel, who smile back at her. “So I’m glad we could bring you some of it back, for this reunion.” She smiles. “So, I wanna hear your best applause for Valerie Brown, the baddest bitch on bass guitar and keyboards, and I would know!” she says confidentally, warming up. Everyone applauds and some cheer. “And give a warm welcome to Melody Valentine, all the way from Houston, Texas – a total genius, in real life and on the drums!” she continues, grinning. More applause and cheering. “And a round to Cheryl Blossom, none of this would have been possible without her,” she beams, “The only event planner you want, and the girl you can’t have…because she’s mine. Sorry,” she looks over at Cheryl, who looks – although Archie can’t see her properly – thrilled. He cheers loudly at this, and the audience applauds and some people cheer. Jughead looks at him, smirking. “Did you know about this?” He shakes his head. “No idea.” “We’re a little rusty, so we’re only gonna play two songs. This first one was co-written by someone you might know,” Josie says to a few laughs from the audience. “My boy, Archie Andrews.” Scattered whoops at this, probably from his ex-football friends. She catches his eyes, beaming and nods at him. He nods back, grinning. “One, two, three, four…” * Josie sees Archie run up to her, thrilled, and picks her up with the force of his hug. She shrieks, laughing. “You guys were so good! Fuck, that was great. I’m jealous! Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, putting her down, full of excitement. “Cheryl wanted it to be a surprise. She heard we were practicing and said we had a spot if we wanted to. Also, if it was a surprise, if we freaked out no one would know we ever were planning to do it anyway,” Josie says, exhilarated. She feels like she could fight an army, she’s so amped. She’s gotten used to performance adrenaline, but somehow playing two songs with her old friends was scarier, and more exciting than anything she’s done recently, at least musically. He laughs. He looks younger when he does, and he hasn’t laughed like that in a while. She looks at him, trying and failing to contain how fond she is. Of the boy that kept trying to be her friend, even when she didn’t want it, but needed it; of the man he’s become, of how much he’s grown, everything they’ve been through together. “Thanks for making me come here, Archibald.” She says, beaming. He laughs. “Thanks for coming with me, Josephine. I couldn’t have done it without you.” ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Epilogue Talking like we used to do It was always me and you Shaping up and shipping out Check me in and check me out ‘Mess Is Mine’, Vance Joy October 2031 Betty sees Kevin get out of the cab through the thick glass doors of the lobby, and rushes out to let him in. She can’t help but let out a squeal of excitement at seeing him. It’s been maybe two or three months since Kevin’s been able to get up to New York, and she’s not supposed to be taking long drives – like the one back to their hometown – right now. Veronica’s been very strict about this. It’s pouring down outside, but as soon as he gets his bags into the covered awning out the front of her apartment building, she throws her arms around him. He responds warmly. “Betty, you look amazing! You have no right to look this good, honestly.” Kevin exclaims, smiling widely. She grimaces. “You’re very sweet to lie, but I feel like a whale. And this is only five months in!” He shakes his head vehemently. “You’re too close to the situation. Seriously, it’s doing wonders for your hair and skin. Which were already gorgeous, so. You wear it very well.” She blushes. “Thank you, Kevin. I can’t believe you’re here! I’m so excited! Although it’s a shame Jude couldn’t be here to hang out with us.” Kevin sighs. “I know, but unlike me he can’t just visit his other office in New York. Apparently that would be “unfair to his students”,” he grins at this. “Damn teachers and their consistent work ethic.” Betty jokes. * “So what do you have planned for this week? Is it at least fifty percent going to shows on Broadway? Because I am very much down for that.” Kevin says, sitting on their surprisingly-comfortable-for-how-expensive-it-was couch. She laughs. “I mean, as much as I want to be doing things with you all day everyday, I’m still part time at work so I have to go in two days this week. But Veronica has some plans and I think you’re going to love them. Between all of us here you’ll be super booked up.” He smiles widely, pleased. “Well, if the upside of having your friends leave town for bigger cities is that you get to visit them and do a lot of fun things, then I’m very happy about it.” She grins. “Oh but I’m definitely the one taking you to the Chicago revival! Veronica’s very excited about it.” He looks thrilled. “I have thought of almost nothing else! I may pass out when I see her do Cell Block Tango, oh my God, but I’m very excited to go.” Betty grins. “Yeah she’s...I can’t do it justice, you’ll have to see it yourself.” He shakes his head. “So you’re still working? What are you guys gonna do closer to the date? Veronica’s not signed up to go film in some far-off exotic locale is she?” Betty takes a sip of her tea, and pats her stomach. “No, no she’s flat out with the show right now. Yeah, I’ve been wanting to work more than I am even right now, but this one is tiring me out more than I thought,” She pauses, smiling. “Not that I mind, of course,” Kevin nods understandingly. “She was happy to be the pregnant one, but I knew – my job I can do from home if I need to, but she would have had to give up such an opportunity...And she’s determined to leave the show when the baby’s born, which makes it easier for me to get back to work when I’m ready. Anyway, I don’t mind it. It’s kind of cool when it’s not actively terrifying,” she says, with a chuckle. Kevin laughs. “Yeah, it’s a...lot. Jude and I are starting to have the big ‘do you want to adopt kids, not as a possibility down the track, but around now’ conversation, and I don’t really know?” Betty nods empathetically. “It’s definitely a weird one. Especially because our parents had kids earlier than we did? And I kind of always thought I would have some, but I think I...pictured it a lot differently.” Kevin smirks. “House in one of the nice areas back home, working at the Chronicle, two or three probably ginger moppets running around?” She shoves him lightly, grinning. “It’s been fifteen years, Kevin, oh my God. Will you ever let me live that crush down?” He laughs. She looks at him, and smiles warmly. “I’m not trying to make any decisions for you – But if you do decide you want them, you’re going to be a great Dad. In fact, you’d both be amazing! That potential child would be lucky to have you.” He blushes. “Thanks, Betty.” “So, we’ll swing by your offices later, and meet Cheryl for lunch. I would usually take the subway, just because no one recognises me if V’s not with me, but she’s forbidden me to do it and so we’ll have to take the car service.” Betty says. Veronica isn’t forceful about what Betty should and shouldn’t be doing, but she gets so worried that Betty ends up taking it easy just to put her mind to rest. She doesn’t mind. It’s nice to be looked after. “Oh, well if we must.” Kevin jokes. “Feels weird to say but I’m still not used to her not being in the office all the time. I can’t believe I miss her.” “Well, she is one of your closest friends, so there is that,” Betty teases. Kevin smirks. “Yeah, there is that.” “Anyway, you’ll get a lot of time to see her. Oh yeah, and on Saturday night we’re having a dinner party, she’s coming to that.” He raises an eyebrow. “Should I be worried? Are you going to spring any A-Listers on me over the bread rolls?” She shakes her head. “No, this is high school friends only. I haven’t seen Archie in weeks since he and Josie have been in the studio so much, and then V cooked up a whole get together so we could all catch up.” He looks pleased. “Awesome! I haven’t seen them in ages,” he says happily. “Do I need to, I don’t know, bring a bottle of wine?” She considers the question, oddly surprised. “I mean, you’re welcome to but – “ she thinks about it, “I’m obviously not drinking, Veronica’s decided she’s not drinking while she’s around me, Josie and Cheryl are doing some health-kick thing that I think involves not drinking, and Jug and Archie don’t drink so...” Kevin raises his eyebrows. “God, these celebrities and their hedonistic tendencies! No, I got you, that’s a no on the wine then.” Betty laughs with him. 2. Manhattan, NYC Josie awakes slowly, from the light coming in the big window. She blinks a few times, trying to remember her dream and scrabbles around lazily on the bedside table for her phone. 9:03am, the screen reads. August 1st 2032. She blinks at it a few more times and decides to get up. In the kitchen Cheryl is cooking something that smells suspiciously like bacon. “It must be my birthday, if you’re cooking me breakfast,” Josie says, slowly, beaming. Cheryl turns to her, some of her red hair falling over her shoulder, and pouts. “Oh no, I was going to let you sleep in a little more and bring them to you on a tray!” “It’s alright, I’d rather eat with you.” Cheryl beams at this. “Why did you let me sleep in though? I could have helped...” she half-heartedly protests. Josie doesn’t like sleeping in, because when you have a lot to do and many ideas to try and explore sleeping in feels like a waste of that time. She must have needed it though, because she feels better than if she usually sleeps past 8:30am. Cheryl gives her a dismissive look. “It’s your birthday, Josie. You have to get some rest sometime. Plus, you looked too cute to wake up.” Josie grins and pulls her away from the hot pan for a kiss. Cheryl beams, and then attempts to frown. “Hey! Stop it, or your breakfast is going to burn!” Josie giggles. “Ok, fine, stop me.” * The bacon was only slightly burnt, anyway. And Josie preferred it crispy. “So you’ll be overseas for five months? That is just unfair.” Cheryl complains, pouting. “Before it we’ll at least be touring here for two months?” Josie tries. Cheryl gives her a wounded look. “Yes but you won’t be here. You’ll be in places like Idaho and Missouri and Florida. Florida, Josie!” Josie laughs. “So come with us!” Cheryl makes a disparaging noise. “I can’t just go on tour with you. I have a business to run!” Josie nods, smiling. “Yeah, I know. I’m gonna miss you too much though! Can you fly out just for a night or two? Or especially if we’re somewhere you’d like overseas, like Rome?” “I would look cute on a Vespa.” Cheryl muses primly. “I know, it’s a pain, but we’re really excited about this new album, and I’m excited to get to play it for our audiences. It’s very meaningful to us,” she says feelingly, and Cheryl smiles, understanding. “Maybe... I will join you in Rome. Or Paris. I love Paris.” she smiles dreamily. Josie phone buzzes, and she opens a text from Veronica – to find a short video message wishing her a happy birthday from the tired, but cheery looking family of her, Betty and their wiggly new son Max. She giggles at the unexpectedly delighting video, and shows Cheryl. “Ok, so you know I find babies terrifying, with their bug eyes and everything –“ Cheryl says, looking at it. “Agreed.” “I’m not gonna lie though, the Cooper girls make cute ones. As far as babies go.” Cheryl concedes, smiling. “Also true.” Josie smiles. “Just think, you’ll can go visit the twins when I’m away.” Cheryl smiles wider. “True. I may go and work with Kevin for a week or so.” They haven’t really discussed it, but they don’t feel the need to have children as much. They’re busy enough as it is – and they enjoy being able to jet off somewhere without anything tying them down. Her phone buzzes again. Hey honey, happy birthday! Are you free to talk around noon? Love, Mom She smiles at the text as she writes back a quick reply. Her phone rings. “Wow, thirty-one! Do you feel old?” Archie teases, smirking through the screen. She rolls her eyes at him, exaggeratedly. “You’ll have to tell me how it feels, old man.” He looks mock-offended. “I’m less than a month older than you!” She laughs. “So are you guys still coming to this concert tonight?” “I’m attempting to coax Jug out – ” she hears a distant, ‘hey!’ in the background and a laugh. “Well then, I guess we’ll be there. Happy birthday!” December 2032 Archie turns the motorcycle down Rue Lamarck, turns into the side-street and parks in front of the apartment building. He nods at the doorman, smiling."Michel, vous allez bien? Comment va votre chienne?” His French isn’t brilliant but he picked up a fair bit when he’d last lived here. The old man smiles widely. "Parfaitement, Archibald! Elle va très bien! Il fait froid dehors?” He nods, thinking of the right thing to say. “Putain de froid, eh!” The old man cackles, and nods him on. He unlocks the door to the apartment which is, thankfully, heated. He steps into the next room and a tiny ball of black fluff excitedly runs headlong into his legs. Putting down the carrier bag of milk, bread and cheese he scoops her up, staring at her with deep affection. She stares back at him panting excitedly. “Did you miss me, Daisy? Did you?” He can’t help talking in a silly voice to the puppy. She’s just so small and fluffy and it’s impossible to be reasonable when talking to her. Which is why she’s taken up residence at the end of the bed most nights. He bends to pick up the carrier bag with Daisy in his other arm. “Hey, have you seen my copy of Kafka On The Shore?” Jughead asks, coming out of the kitchen. “Oh, and tell me you’ve brought coffee, I’m dying. That’s not a joke.” Archie smiles, rumbles around in the bag with one hand and throws it to Jughead, who surprisingly catches it. “It’s fucking cold out. I’d only do it for the people I really care about.” Jughead looks at it, overjoyed. “Wow, I think I love you.” “Well that’s good, otherwise I’ve moved to another continent with a roommate,” he teases, as they move into the kitchen to put the groceries away. Daisy has burrowed up into the opening of his jacket and is attempting to sleep inside it. “This is just temporary, ok? You can’t stay in my jacket.” He says to the tiny lump on his chest. She used to be even smaller, but he’d gotten her as a birthday present from Jughead five months earlier and she – even though a small breed – was growing every day. Jughead snorts. “Oh yeah. You tell her who’s boss.” He grins. “How can I say no? And as for your book, I haven’t seen it, but maybe it’s in the second box of books, or the third? Have you unpacked them yet?” Jughead gives him a look. “Yeah, surprisingly I thought of that. I meant if you’d seen in it the books I’d already unpacked?” “No, I haven’t.” He smiles reassuringly at Jughead, having put the last of the perishables away, and puts his arms around his waist loosely. “Look, I’ve moved a lot – the living out of boxes part is always annoying, and I know we’ve been here a few months already, and we should have more done. But we’ll get there. We’ve got time.” Jughead looks at him with a sort of annoyed but deep fondness, an expression similar but not exactly the same as one he’s looked at him with since they were children. “Yeah. We’ve got time.” He leans in for a kiss, which is only broken by a yelp from Archie’s jacket. Jughead breaks apart from him, laughing, but doesn’t break out of his arms. “Sorry, Daisy!” He says, laughing and tickling her head. “So, what do you want to do for your birthday?” Archie asks, still chuckling. Jughead looks sceptical. “You’re not planning a surprise are you?” “I promise I’m not planning a suprise party or social interaction. But I have some ideas – that I might surprise you with – and I know you’ll like them.” Archie beams. Jughead raises an eyebrow, but can’t help smiling. “Ok, but I swear to God, if it’s one of those 24-hr raves like you were talking about,” Archie’s phone rings. “You never know,” he teases. “I’m just gonna get this, it’s my Mom.” * Archie is scratching Daisy’s little stomach, on the couch, while Jughead reads next to him. “What time did they say they were getting here?” Jughead asks. “Their plane supposedly got in two hours ago but maybe they’re held up in customs?” Archie replies. His phone rings. “It’s fucking cold out here, Archibald, let us up already!” Josie says, sounding like she’s shivering, although she can’t fully disguise the warmth in her tone. “Otherwise, Cheryl may die of hypothermia. She’s wearing very thin tights.” He hears a brief indignant noise on the other end. “Ok, I’ll see you in two minutes, Josephine.” THE END
10216331	drop the top	{ "Archive Warning": "Rape/Non-Con", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Legally Blonde - All Media Types", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by artsyspikedhair", "chapters": "2/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-10T00:00:00", "words": "1,372", "Additional Tags": "Trials, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rape Aftermath, Misunderstandings, Heavy Angst, Asexuality, Hospitals", "Relationship": null, "Character": "Enid Hoops", "Relationships": "Callahan/Elle Woods, Emmett Forrest & Elle Woods, Elle Woods & Vivienne", "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 }	"Are you- are you hitting on me?" Elle was trying not to flinch away, with Callahan's hand on her thigh radiating warmth. She squashed her instincts in case he was just being nice and had odd boundaries, but- "you're a beautiful girl, Elle" Callahan was smirking, and leaning towards her. Why was he- He was on top of her. He leaned over onto the couch, and Elle cannot move, and she tried to push him off, respectability be damned, but he was too large and she was too scared and shocked and his hand was inching into her waistband and- He's taking her pants off. She could kick him. She should kick him. But she didn't, and he kept going, and- She was pinned again, and he was pulling off his own clothes and- Vivienne was headed home for the night, but she remembered she had left something in Callahan's office. She hoped he wouldn't be in because he always stared at her with a rather... predatory gaze. She walked towards his office, wishing she could be as proud of her sexuality as Enid was. Although her sexuality was asexuality, not homo- wait that was the clinical term. Vivienne wasn't gay, she just didn't feel the desire for sex. But Warner liked her, and respected her boundaries, and- she was there. "Please, please, Callahan, please," the word stop just couldn't come out of Elle's mouth for some disgusting reason. Vivienne could not believe what she was hearing. And as the man moved on top of Elle, there was no doubt it was the same Callahan who was their teacher. Luckily, neither person noticed her, so she snuck in, grabbed her laptop, and walked slowly to the elevator, thinking over what she saw. Elle Woods, the same Elle Woods Warner had warned would see Vivienne as a threat, had given up on him for... for an abomination. For a teacher! And there's no way of knowing she hadn't also slept with Warner, if she's so good at sex, and how could Vivienne ever be friends with someone who could give her boyfriend something she never could? Vivienne wasn't crying, but she did feel betrayed. When Callahan was finished molesting her, he threw Elle's clothes on the couch and told her if she ever wanted to step foot in Harvard again she couldn't breathe a word of this to anyone. Elle took her time, while crying (would she ever fucking stop crying?), to put her clothes on, but then she ran down the hallway to the elevator. "Never would've taken you for a crier." "What? Vivienne! What're you-" "I'm willing to bet if you slept with the jury we'd win the case." "Vivienne, what do you know?" "Enough." She said cryptically, and left the elevator, thinking she'd rather take the stairs than spend one more minute thinking about the spectacle she had witnessed. She'd never be able to succeed when competing with a girl who was willing to give the teacher intercourse. Vivienne had liked Elle, but this was- immoral and she felt like the friendship had to end. She didn't want Elle to see her cry. Elle walked out of the elevator, and Emmett was there waiting for her. "Well, if it isn't intern of the year?" "Thanks for your help and for all you've done. Thank- thank you for treating me decently." Her voice cracked on the second thanks, and Emmett could tell something was wrong. "What's wrong?" "Maybe someday you could visit me..." Elle said this more to herself than Emmett, and then broke down in tears, again. She hated herself for her weakness. "I'm sorry I'm letting down everyone..." This was to Emmett. "What? Elle, no, that's ludicrous. You're the best one here." Emmett put his hand on her shoulder, hoping to comfort her, but it only made the sobs grow louder. "I DON'T WANT THAT! WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK I WANT TO BE- TO BE TOUCHED AND-" Elle was screaming, and then she stopped. She had come to a realization. "It's because of how I dressed. Oh my god, I dress like a-a-" She put her hands over her eyes, not wanting Emmett to see the tears coming down again. "Elle, I don't want anything from you. I thought I could be comforting- I, I'm sorry. Are you leaving?" "I have to. I'm in class with him and you work with him and I can't-" "Did Warner do something? I swear to God I will destroy him-" "No, Warner's with Vivienne. He would never hurt me physically, let alone r-r-" She couldn't get the word out. Again with the damned words. "Did someone-" "I can't talk about it. He said if I talked about it I could never set foot in Harvard again. I need to get my stuff, then I am going home." "Elle... What about the trial? The rest of the semester? One shitty intern shouldn't wreck-" "It was Callahan." She says this in a monotone, as if it doesn't hurt that Callahan only thought she was a good lawyer because he thought she was good at something completely different. "You don't have to give a shit, I know where your loyalties lie, Emmett. I'm going to a hospital, then I'm grabbing my stuff and leaving. I already ordered a plane ticket." She began walking out the door. Every step hurt her, her crotch still sore from what had happened half an hour earlier. "Elle!" Emmett screamed out at her. She turned around, unsure why. "What did he do exactly?" "He asked me how far I was willing to go to get what I wanted. Clearly it wasn't far enough for him, so he pushed himself on top of me." "Wait! Elle, I'll go with you to the hospital." "Why?" "We need to get medical evidence so we can combine our amazing lawyer skills to sue that butthead." For the first time since the false compliments, Elle smiled. It was a pained grin, but still one nonetheless. "Bet he hasn't been called that since the ninth grade?" Both friends erupted in laughter. The damage couldn't be healed from a single joke, but it made the walk to the hospital less torturous. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Elle was suddenly terrified of the idea of walking into the Emergency Room. "Emmett, what if... what if this isn't considered a real emergency?" "Elle, you came to a sobbing wreck. I know you have bruises under that fabulous coat you're wearing. If the fucking hospital doesn't think rape is a real emergency then we'll sue their ass too, okay?" "O...Okay..." Elle was still scared. The last time she had been in an emergency room was when she had had a meltdown in seventh grade and subsequently got diagnosed with autism. Woods' don't get sick, that's what her mother always said. But Emmett was holding her hand and dragging her into the brightly lit Emergency Department. The two waited in line to check in. There was a man with his 15 year old child next to him in front of them. "What's your emergency?" stated the intake person. Elle hoped they wouldn't be her doctor. They were intimidating, and Elle already felt more tears coming on. "Psychological evaluation. My, uh, my transgender son tried to kill himself by drinking mouthwash." The fifteen year old waved, looking almost as terrified as Elle. "Okay, wait over there. A nurse will be with you shortly. Our psych department isn't on duty right now, so there may be a wait." "Name?" Elle answered for herself. "Elle Woods." "What's your reason for being here today?" Elle almost stuttered out an answer but she was clearly having trouble putting it into words so Emmett intervened. "My friend here was raped without a condom and she needs to be tested for diseases, pregnancy, and signs of trauma." Emmett sounded so calm one could almost believe he didn't have a personal stake. He was only keeping himself calm for Elle's sake. Emmett knew hospitals could be unfeeling towards rape victims (he had acted as a lawyer in a case on exactly that before) and wanted to ensure Elle would be treated okay. "Okay, take a seat, a nurse will be with you momentarily."
10242533	Truths In The Courting	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by KSForever", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "3,343", "Additional Tags": "An Answered Challenge on the KS Archive, a fix-it", "Relationship": null, "Character": "TNG Fusion/Crossover so TNG Characters", "Relationships": "Spirk - Relationship, Some QPic", "Series": null, "Collections": "The Kirk/Spock Fanfiction Archive", "Fandoms": "Star Trek: The Original Series, Generations era TNG", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Truths In The Courting Of LovePicard finished placing the last stone, and moved back. It was then that tears collected in his eyes, as he looked at this grave of a great man, and a Legend.Jean-Luc seemed to stand there for a long, still time. He should have been more startled than he was when someone touched his shoulder, behind him, but everything was surreal, and yet, unlike in the Nexus, it was all startlingly real. As he turned around to face whomever had touched his shoulder, Jean-Luc recognised that he was in a daze – until he saw the person whom had reached out to touch him.“Q!” Picard said – in the tone he usually used when speaking to this particular omnipotent being. “This isn’t all your doing, is it??” He nearly ‘barked’ his question.“Why ever would you think such a thing, mon Capitan?” Q queried.“Is it?” Picard persisted.“No, Jean-Luc. Not this time.” Q answered. “But I can help you with what weighs heavily on your soul. I can help to ensure a better outcome for all concerned, with the possible exception of Doctor Soran, that is.”Picard was about to say something, though he wasn’t sure what, when Q touched his shoulder again, and whisked them both away – back to the minute when Picard & Kirk exited the Nexus, and the fight with Soran began.Picard fielded a questioning expression from Kirk, who stood beside him, larger than life. “Don’t worry. This is all still very real, I assure you! This is”“Q!” Jim Kirk exclaimed.“Ah, yes, we’re old friends, believe it or not!” Q looked to Picard. “He” Q looked to Kirk, “was no less than cryptic when he mentioned me in his famous ‘Captain’s Log.’” He frowned at Jim then.“Sorry, but Starfleet didn’t know what to make of you!” Jim replied.“They still don’t.” Q answered. “Now, shall we get on with the job in hand, of getting rid of that baddie” He pointed at Soran. “over there..?” Picard, Kirk, Q, and Spock, now stood in a Briefing Room at Starfleet HQ. Q had skipped the de-briefing, of course, only turning up now; in enough time to tell the gathered Admirals, etc, that it all happened as Picard and Kirk had told them – yet, when all those others had left, Q turned to Spock, who’d already been travelling to the Veridian system, out of intuition and instinct, or telepathic sensory communication, when Jim was brought back to life. “There you go, Mr. Executive Science Officer Vulcan; you have your beloved Captain Jim back.” Q quipped to the half-Vulcan, who had not left Jim’s side since they’d been reunited hours earlier.“A fact that I am highly relieved by, Q.” Spock said, looking quickly from Q to Jim Kirk.“Or, you will be, by tonight, eh?” Q winked solicitously. “You might notice later, I’ve given you both back some of your vim and vigour!”Jim and Spock, together, raised an eyebrow each, at Q.For once, Q kept quiet, but he did smile. When Q had gone, and the Starfleet Brass, Medics, and Counsellors, had all finished, for today, with paying Jim and Spock a visit; they were both encouraged to spend their first night being monitored in Sickbay… Yet neither of them could sleep.Spock sat by Jim’s bedside, and they held hands; staring at each other; letting all of this sink in, talking, and, occasionally, foraying into a gradual mind meld, after so long. They knew that all of this was being monitored by Medics, and Vulcan Healers, but they were being allowed a fraction of privacy.“I did research the Nexus, Jim.” Spock explained. “But I could not bring myself to go to the selfish lengths that Soran did, and I knew that something like that, would be my only, and very fragile, chance of getting you back. Over the years, another fact is this; that I I did chastise myself for not attempting, at least more so, to find Q, and ask this of him.”“You did nothing wrong, and you did everything right. I wouldn’t want you to have been guilty of destroying a whole planetary system! I wouldn’t want that done in my name!” Jim reiterated. “And not that I want to suggest to anyone that you have a telepathic link with Q, but we both know that he’s shown a pretty much lifelong interest in us; maybe, he heard about things, on the grapevine, as such.”“The only one I’ve ever had a telepathic link with is you, Jim, because you are my T’hy’la.” Spock promised.Tears fell down Jim’s face, and followed down Spock’s face, too.They were in love, and they knew it now, more than ever…There, began a new life, and a lifetime… They retired to their happily ever after; only coming out of it to try and save the Romulan people, with their son’s help, over twenty years later…_ ___ _______ __Jim had seen Spock Prime and Jim Prime amongst those gathered to watch his court martial – something he faced as a result of going to the Genesis Planet in the stolen Starship Enterprise, and saving his Spock.He’d been ‘let off’ when, subsequently, Jim, Spock, and the rest of the rescue mission crew, had performed the miraculous task of going back in time, and saving Earth back in the future, with the help of two time travelling whales, George and Gracie.Now, Jim sat in another court room, of sorts, but apart from Spock, and the rest of his crew, the only person Jim Kirk recognised, from his mind meld with Spock Prime years ago, in the audience, was Q.Jim watched, as a ‘video-screen’ told the story of his life, and Spock’s, and how they met.Jim Prime & Spock Prime and their young Scientist son, burst through into this existence; having attempted to save the planets Romulus and Remus from their own Universe. Sometime later, a Romulan named ‘Nero’ from that timeline, burst through into this reality, in a similar fashion, chasing Jim Prime and his family because he blamed them when Romulus and Remus’ sun still went Nova. Nero killed this timeline’s Jim Kirk’s father – his father-who saved the crew of the ship on which he served, The Kelvin, from Nero’s attack. They fled, re. their Captain’s last orders, in escape pods – Jim and his mother and brother among them – but young George Kirk would not leave with them; he took the Kelvin, and tried to destroy Nero’s ship with it – in the process giving his crew & family time to escape the battlefield.Years later, Jim was taken under the wing of Starfleet Captain Christopher Pike, a friend of George Kirk’s, who was desperate to save Jim, this young boy, from his path of self-destruction.Jim continued to watch as he saw all of these past events, records, and memories play out on the old ‘video-screen’.Jim had joined Starfleet at Pike’s encouragement, and flown through the Academy in record time.Pike still kept an eye on Jim; making him his P.A, when they were working back at the Academy, and one of his crew, whenever they went on a Mission.Then, came the dark day when Nero came back into everybody’s lives, and destroyed Vulcan.Jim was there, on the rescue mission, and, on that day, he met a young Vulcan male, around his own age (then 25), and tried to help him through the trauma that unfolded all around him on his home planet, and on Enterprise, among the survivors. Spock’s mother did not survive. His father did, but not his mother. Obviously, Jim could relate to ‘losing’ a parent, and to feeling at least partially responsible for their death. This forged a bond between himself and Spock that continued to grow in the following years, when, having kept in touch, the Universe seemed to afford them, busy though they both were, many chances to see each other.Chris Pike, and Jim Kirk, with the help of Jim and Spock Prime, and of a man who later became the ship’s chief Engineer, Montgomery Scott, ‘young’ Jim and the Enterprise crew, had defeated Nero, back on that ‘first’ day; a first for some; the last for others. The crew killed Nero at his own insistence.Spock, a member of the now mostly decimated Vulcan Science Academy (destroyed apart from two small outposts elsewhere in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants), was, in a short space of time, offered a place at Starfleet Academy. Like Jim, he sped through the Academy, and, when he graduated, he became part of a joint project, or group of projects, between Starfleet’s Science Division, and the surviving members of the Vulcan Science Academy, to rebuild the lives of the surviving Vulcan people; their culture, and their way of life.Nearly eighteen Earth months later, Starfleet and Jim Kirk then got together on an idea; to offer Spock a place on Enterprise’s crew, thus taking his searching to help the Vulcans, even further. Christopher Pike had recently been killed in action, and Enterprise, under Jim’s Command (he was, by then, the Ship’s First Officer) made it home. The ship had been given a refit, and, of course, now needed some more crew members. Jim became Enterprise’s Captain; Spock, Enterprise’s First and Science Officer.All of that was years ago, and now, having saved Earth again, Jim and his crew were in this sham court room. He didn’t know what he was going to be having to answer to this time. He did have his own guilt about some of the events that had recently occurred – He did not regret saving Spock. He never, ever would; but, having flown Enterprise back to Genesis to try and find Spock, whom he just somehow knew that he could save, after Sarek had made him re-watch Spock’s final moments; Jim and his crew had found Saavik and David, the only survivors of Kruge’s attack on the ship, The Grissom. Kruge had later killed David (Jim’s son with Carol Marcus), and Jim hated himself because he’d been unable to save David – but he didn’t think this court case was about that. He’d been proved right, as it, later, unfolded.“We’ve been here rather a long time today, Captain.” Q said pointedly. “Now, tell us all again, why did you go to such lengths to save your beloved Science and First Officer, Mr. Spock?”“Everybody needs him in their lives!” Jim answered. “His people, his father, his crewmates, myself – we all need him! The Universe is a better place with him in it!” Jim was getting impatient. “How many times do I have to tell you?”“You have told all of us many times already, Captain – and I do not deny that those were present and correct reasons in your decision making – but they were not the main reason! What was your main reason, James T. Kirk?” Q asked. “Tell me! Tell him!” Q pointed at Spock, and, as he did so, he ‘froze’ Spock, and made the Vulcan fall in his Captain’s arms.“What have you done!?” Jim yelled out; his cobalt eyes were like rivers of ice-fire, directed at Q.“Oh, relax! I’ve done this before! He’ll be fine – if you tell him; if you tell me, what he needs to know!” Q kept on at Jim, getting ‘in his face’.“I love him!” Jim answered. “It’s not that much of a surprise, is it, alright? I love him!”“And, how do you love him, Captain Casanova?” Q queried.“We’ve known each other for a long time. We’re the best of friends. We’re comrades. He is family. My family; I love him.” Jim told the court.“Not good enough!” Q insisted. “It’s more than that! You know it! The worlds won’t fall apart if you admit it.”“How sure of that can you be?” Jim asked. “We have to put duty first!”Q rolled his eyes and yawned. “James T. Kirk, will you, PLEASE, just tell the truth!!”“I’m in love with Spock!!!” Jim shouted. “Has everyone here got that!?” Jim looked around briefly, and then, back to Spock, who was still in his arms. “I love you.” He told Spock. “I’ve been in love with you for years now.”“There, there..!” Q spoke quietly. “Whatever existence you’re in, life is always better when every Kirk has his Spock, and every Spock, his Kirk!”* ** With those words from Q spoken, Jim and the crew found themselves back on the Enterprise A. Specifically, Jim and Spock were in Sickbay with Doctor McCoy standing beside them. Spock was unfrozen, and laying on a bio-bed, with Jim standing by one side of the bed, and Doctor McCoy, the other.Kirk made com. Calls to the Bridge and other shipboard places, like Engineering, immediately. Everybody was present and correct, and so was the ship.“You’re going nowhere!” McCoy told Spock. “Lay back down, and rest! Meditate or something! I’m keeping you in Sickbay over night; just to be sure you’re okay.”“I don’t think that is necessary, Doctor.” Spock announced.“Yes, it is.” McCoy glared at him, and pushed Spock’s shoulders gently, telling him to lay down again.Spock did so.___ __ ___ __ Jim saw to his Bridge duties, and kept checking in on Spock and McCoy in Sickbay.Spock was meditating, as McCoy had suggested he do, when Kirk walked back into Sickbay for the third time that evening, after finishing his last Duty Shift of the ‘day’.“He’s okay, Jim. I’ve got him hooked up to monitors and all sorts.” McCoy noted, as he walked over to meet Kirk, in the doorway.They walked back toward Spock’s bed together.“Tell him!” McCoy ‘whispered’ intensely.“I can’t!” Jim answered.“You, literally, know that you and he are meant to be! Look at Jim and Spock Prime! They even have a son together; was a bright young thing of about nineteen or twenty when he first came here; long ago!” McCoy indicated Jim and Spock. McCoy indicated Jim and Spock.“Yes, I know – But Spock’s already left once, to go and try and achieve Kolinahr, and put his work with his people first. I don’t want him to leave, but he might, if I tell him – and I can’t make demands of him anyway; he needs to be able to be there for the other Vulcans.” Jim mentioned aloud.Jim and McCoy stood there, silently, looking at Spock as he meditated.Slowly, Spock opened his eyes, and looked directly at Jim. “I already know, Jim. I could hear what you said, as I lay frozen in your arms.”“I’m sorry, Spock. I don’t mean to make you feel awkward.” Jim managed to say, as McCoy still stood by him.“I do not feel awkward.” Spock told Jim. Jim tried not to look at the deck as he heard those words.“I am in love with you, too, Jim.” Spock admitted.Jim’s eyes lifted upward, and, from then, never wavered from Spock’s. “You’re in love with me, like I’m in love with you?”“Yes. We spoke of it many years ago, in a Sickbay like this, during the V’Ger Mission, did we not?” Spock pointed out.“Yes.” Jim answered. “Yes! Yes. We did!” He smiled.“I will not make the mistake of leaving you again, Jim.” Spock promised.“You won’t?” Jim asked gradually.“No. I won’t.” Spock pledged.“What about the fact that your father still wants you to have a Vulcan marriage, and add to the Vulcan culture, and the new Vulcan populace?” Jim pondered.“Jim, despite my father’s numerous enquiries on my behalf, he cannot find me a Vulcan spouse, or a spouse of any other species willing to marry a Vulcan – but, even if he could, there is no one I want more, no one I am meant for, more than you, James Tiberius Kirk.” Spock told him.“Nice save!” Jim grinned, making McCoy laugh.“What do you mean?” Spock asked, looking at them both.“Don’t worry, my love!” Jim smiled, sending all his love to Spock through their already emerging bond.Spock lifted an eyebrow, but accepted his T’hy’la’s word, and felt all of his love. He then spoke again. “As Doctor McCoy just pointed out, we have witnessed strong indications that you and I could successfully create a child between us, with the proper medical assistance; Assistance that I believe my people’s Healers can still offer. They are working toward helping to make sure that new Generations of Vulcans are born. Perhaps, they could help us to become parents?”Jim smiled; his smile glorious, as he walked over to Spock, and kissed him via the O’zhesta. “Would they accept me; do you think?”“Spock Prime and Jim Prime are accepted, and happily living on New Vulcan.” Bones added to the conversation.“That’s part of my thinking – because the new Vulcan gene pool, which is having to accept help from other species, admittedly, already has one product of a Spock and Kirk union – The Primes’ son, Tay; Tayadamek.” Jim spoke of the young scientist, then, giving him his name rather than only his ‘nickname’.“We would create a ‘brother’ of Tayademek, not a clone. It could be done.” Spock replied. “And, I think we will both be accepted by my people, eventually. Most of them realise all the efforts we’ve each made to help them.”Jim looked to Spock, and smiled all the more. “Does this mean we can be together at last?” He asked.“We will always be creatures of duty, but I know that we can be together, and still be sure to do our duty on behalf of all of those we work for. It is not exactly against Starfleet’s Regulations, and, there have been past cases, where Starfleet have acknowledged that some of their Officers do their best work whilst being allowed to be in a relationship with one another.” Spock informed Jim.“Yes, you’re right! You’re beautifully right!” Jim reached forward, and caressed Spock’s face, and then, kissed him on the lips. “Don’t mind the Doctor!” Jim grinned, as his and Spock’s kissing paused. “I won’t go around kissing you a lot in public, you have my word – but Bones doesn’t count!” Jim grinned, and began another kiss with Spock.“That’s nice!” McCoy mumbled, meaning his words on so many levels…___ ____ ___Q suddenly decided to nip back to one of his favourite points in time and space, and visit Jean-Luc.“What are you doing here?” Picard asked, when Q appeared, in Jean-Luc’s office aboard the Enterprise E. As usual, the two of them stood face to face, toe to toe.Q quickly leant forward, and did something he’d never yet done.Some moments later, Picard, shocked, demanded to know, “What are you playing at Q?”Q smiled. “Now, now, mon Capitan; don’t pretend to be coy!” He admonished Picard. “I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”“You kissed me!” Jean-Luc stuttered.“And you kissed me back, mon Capitan; my dear Jean-Luc!” Q caressed Jean-Luc’s face. “You kissed me back!”Picard ignored this statement, this observation of Q’s. “I’ve only just got on-board the Enterprise E, and set sale. You’d better not be here to put her through a tough time, on her first Mission, like you did with the Enterprise D!”“I’m not here for any such thing!” Q pledged. “I’m here just to see you!” He paused. “Every Kirk has his Spock, and every Spock, his Kirk!” He winked. “Perhaps, every Q has his Picard, and every Picard…” Q’s voice trailed off as he vanished in his usual flash of light.“Every Picard has his Q…” Picard murmured, as he now stood in his office alone.“I heard that, mon Capitan!” Q’s voice came back within Jean-Luc’s earshot. “See you around the Galaxies, my dear Jean-Luc!” He added – and then, he was gone again.The End..? 22.8.16/Corrected: 23.8.16
10211279	Treasure Lost Treasure	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Bellamy Blake, Clarke Griffin, Raven Reyes, Finn Collins", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by rowanrt7", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-10T00:00:00", "words": "4,228", "Additional Tags": "Pirate AU, AU, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Pirates, everything but the sex, Sorry guys", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellarke - Relationship", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	He stood with his hands trussed behind his back, staring at the wall of men. His head hurt. The cannon fire still rang in his ears. Across from him, stood their captors. They were just as grimy as him and his crew. The fight had been long and tiresome. Blood trickled from their wounds. Several sat on the sidelines, their hands pressed to gashes. One, a boy of maybe seventeen, slumped against the gunwale; an errant cannonball had blown his leg off. Someone had bandaged it with an old grease cloth, but no one had gotten around to helping him. They all just loitered, staring at him. What on earth were they waiting for?“Bellamy Blake,” said a voice from behind the wall of men. He knew that voice. His eyebrows knit together. It wasn’t a voice that belonged on a pirate ship. Slowly, the wall parted revealing a diminutive blonde figure. Time had not diminished her. If anything, it had smoothed the edges off her, sharpening what had been a natural grace. Around her eyes she wore thick black powder. It almost looked like gunpowder, but it illuminated the clear blue in her eyes, drawing your attention to them from half a ship away. That, he was sure, was her point.She wore a loose white shirt, mostly red now, and black pants. It was too easy to remember the last time they had met; the thin layers cut close to the curve of her, bringing back images of the skin beneath. The last time they had met, she had worn a dress. The shape of it covered more, but he remembered how easily it had lifted ... yes, there were perks to the skirt.Her hair looped over her ears in elaborate braids, poking from beneath a tricorn hat. His tricorn hat.“Clarke,” he said. “Clarke ...”“Griffin,” she said icily. “Not that it’s important.” Bellamy looked behind her to the carefully blank faces of her crewman. Was it good, for her, to show weakness in front of them? To let them know that they had a personal relationship? And why did he care anyway?“That’s my hat,” he said. “My men don’t have any,” she said with a smile. “We had a bit of a party last night, and they all ended up overboard.”“So, you seized my ship ... for our hats?”“Among other reasons,” she said. For just the briefest moment, her tongue darted between her lips, her mouth relaxing, and then it settled back into stoniness. He opened his mouth to give her grief about the look, but her attention was elsewhere. “Jack!” she shouted, and a scrawny boy emerged from the mass, clutching a clipboard. Behind him trailed three little boys, no girls he saw as they approached. The children darted through the prisoners, collecting hats from heads and from where they had tumbled to the deck, while the man called Jack scurried after them, tallying on his clipboard. They returned to the victorious pirates and began passing the hats out, while Jack scrawled names of those who received hats, so no one could collect a second. Clarke stood while this happened, never looking in their direction. They were well trained. He had to give them that. “You have our hats,” he said, “now what? You’ll slaughter us all?” Whip fast, she had the dagger on her hip out of its sheath and pressed against his throat. “Perhaps. Would you like to go first?”He wanted to swallow, but he was afraid of leaving blood on her knife. It had been an accident. He’d never got a chance to tell her that. He’d never intended for it to go that far. He’d taken her back to his cabin, just another bit of plunder, the girl his for the night before she was shared. Captain’s perk. That must have been how she’d seen it. But he had a sister, and he simply meant to put her ashore in a friendly port. His cabin was safer than the rest of the ship. Even then, she had to know that.Her eyes flickered between his, and the silver of her knife against the soft flesh of his throat. Had it seen blood yet?“What’s your price?” he whispered finally. The knife slackened. “I intend to have it back,” she replied just as quietly. “What you took from me all those years ago.” Then, louder, “I’ll have your ship Blake. And your crew. Whatever cargo is aboard.” She turned away from him and began issuing directions. Fairly standard. Any man who wished to could remain in her service. Her loyal crew began ferrying the Bellamy’s loot over from Princess and into Clarke’s hold. His curiosity was piqued by her announcement that any man who didn’t wish to stay would not be executed, as was standard practice, but would instead be put to port. He would’ve been more interested in it, were he not so wrapped up in her last comment. Around him, men signed her letters of marque. They looked at him sideways as they did so, worried about his reaction to their betrayal, but he was too busy watching the blonde. How had she gotten here?Under the baking sun, as she left him standing there, attending to everything around him, his mind drifted back to the night they’d met. He had been a pirate then. She hadn’t. She’d just been a girl, the daughter of the ship’s captain, or merchant owner. He had never gotten the full story. But she had been there, on the ship when they took it, and instead of hiding, as most girls would, she had stood on the deck, even as it was burning hurling things and screaming. She stood on the deck throwing cannon balls, loose balls of rope, even prying up bits of the shattered deck. Even still, she stood a little apart from the fight, and he was able to get to her by himself.Three paces away from him, she stood in a long dress. It was grey in the light, whipping back and forth in the wind. Later he would find out that it had originally been blue, the color of forget me nots. Ironic, now that he thought about it, his eyes finding Clarke now.She stood a little way off, stretching her arms over head.. By now, the sun was going down. The loot had been sorted and stowed. The men as well. Bellamy was the only one still standing, his hands in manacles. Throughout the course of the day, he’d backed up bit by bit until his back was against the mast.“I believe it’s time for dinner, don’t you think Raven?” That name is familiar as well. Behind Clarke, stood a girl, also dressed in men’s clothes, hers entirely black. She wore a bandanna over her hair, but the tell tale braid snuck out from behind one ear. He knew her too, he thought with a flush of embarrassment. At least she had already been a pirate when they met. The two women strode off together. Jack, the wiry one, came along later.“The captain would like to see you in her cabin,” he said. He wasn’t surprised. He followed the short man through the warren of cabins that boats always were, until they reached a round burgundy door. Jack knocked twice. “Come in,” said a quiet voice. The door opened, revealing Clarke and Raven, sitting at a rectangular table that could’ve seated 10. Both women still wore the same clothes they’d worn to fit though without the weapons and hats, their masculine sleeves rolled up over slender forearms. Both were silent.The boy called Jack opened the door at the other end of the cabin. Clarke’s cabin. In the cabin was a queen sized bed, and in one corner a hammock. Jack shut the door behind him, leaving him in the silence. Through the thick door, he couldn’t even hear Clarke and Raven’s conversation, though he was sure it had started up the moment the door shut. The parallel smacked him in the face. He snorted.Though he knew she was out in the cabin, eating a dinner he would never see, he could see her sitting in her blue grey dress, the smell of smoke leaking from her hair. Three years ago, her hair had been softer, darker. Her face had seemed softer too, though maybe it was the sun dark that did it.He couldn’t imagine what she had been feeling then. Her father was dead. She had seen it. Her immediate future, to be shared among a dozen men had been joked about on the boat. She didn’t know yet he had no intention of letting that befall her. He had left her in the cabin while he’d had dinner. Little did he know then, he was giving her time to stew, and make a decision. He sat down in the cabin, and opened a bottle of wine. He poured them each a drink. There had been wine on the table outside, he knew, but the pull of the present would not distract from the pleasure of the past.She’d never taken up the wine. Instead, he’d sat down, offered the glass out to her. She’d put it to one side and set herself in his lap. He remembered her shivering, even though it was July, and there was no ventilation in the belly of the ship. He opened his mouth to reassure her, and she covered it with hers. It was a shaky kiss, and in it he could taste the metallic taste of her fear. He pulled away, gathered a clump of her smokey hair in one hand, brushed a bit of soot off her face.For a long moment, they looked at each other. Such blue eyes, open, scared. Once more, he went to speak and she kissed him. He should’ve had something before the second kiss, but he hadn’t. This one was sweeter. Her mouth relaxed. Her hands cupped his face. Underneath all that smoke she smelled like clean linen and butter pastry. Had she eaten some that morning, before her life changed forever?The door opened, jolting him out of his reverie. The object of his daydream stood before him, her face flushed with wine and good food and the joy of holding the upper hand. “Good evening,” she said cordially. “Good evening. This isn't necessary. I can sleep with my men.” Bellamy insisted. He cringed a little bit hearing them as the first words out his mouth.“Nonsense,” Clarke said, “You’re a captain. And after all, it’s time I returned the favor.” She closed the door and it was like she closed the door on the present. She was all around him again, her skirt flipped up high on her legs, her skin smooth beneath his callused hands. She was smiling at him as he pushed her over onto the bed, wrapping her leg up over his hip, pulling him into her. Her voice rang in his ears, high pitched, hesitant, then incoherent.Clarke’s boots clumped on the floor. She sat on the bed, alone. He looked up at her abruptly. Her smile was just as bright as he remembered.She disappeared behind the Chinese screen in the corner. Her blouse appeared over the screen, then her pants. Her corset, next, dark brown leather.“Still wear a corset I see,” he said, sitting down at Clarke’s desk chair.“Yes, might as well put another layer between me and the bullets,” she said absently. He wanted to ask what had happened to her, afterwards. After he hadn't known her anymore. This wasn’t what needed to be talked about.“Clarke,” he said a little hesitantly, “you know there's no earthly way I can give you back your virginity right?” To his alarm she burst out laughing.. Still, she didn’t answer until she reappeared wearing a loose red dress. Where she had gotten that, he didn’t want to ask. “I wasn't a virgin!” she said. She opened a bottle of wine, but didn’t offer him any. “Oh but I thought...”“You assumed,” she said. A tad smugly, he thought, “but you never asked and I never bled.”He thought back. That must be true although he wasn't sure. But then what was she looking for? He wanted to ask but she was absorbed with some paperwork on her desk, holding her wine idly in one hand. Her parents? They were long dead. Her father at least. He'd watched the ship go up. Her mother he had no knowledge of. “Would you like your hat back?” she asked. Still that cordial tone.“Will I be needing it?” he asked.She turned to look at him for the first time since this afternoon. It felt different now that they were alone. It was the calm stare that he remembered from those first few moments in his cabin. It betrayed nothing. “You’re a captain, aren’t you?” She passed the hat to him, her gaze never wavering from his. He felt it all the way to his core.Words didn’t come easily. He turned to look behind him. “You brought this hammock for me?” he asked. She laughed.“Not at all. It’s Raven’s. But she’s got a thing with the second mate now, so I don’t think she’ll mind if you use it.”“How ... Clarke how did you get to this place?” He wanted to feel shame, to feel responsibility, but the woman before him was one who had come into her own. She stood tall, confident even in this cramped space. “That’s another story,” Clarke said and for just a moment her expression tensed.Bellamy cleared his throat. “When you say return the favor ...”“Will we be having sex?” she asked plainly. She sat on her bed, folding her legs beneath her tent of a skirt. “Yes,” she said. “But not tonight.” Flipping back the cover of the bed, she slipped beneath the cover and blew out the lamp.He had to grope his way to the hammock, still fully dressed, his hat still in his hands. He dropped it onto the floor, and bundled himself into the bunk. He’d had enough days on a ship not to dump himself unceremoniously out, though the design was different than he was used to. Instead of covering him, it only wraps a little on the side, leaving his face exposed to the cabin air. He could hear her breathing slow and deepen almost immediately. It made sense. It had been a long day. It was four days to port. Three nights after this one. He thought back to the last night he had spent in her company. She’d slept in one of his clean shirts, the dress discarded somewhere on the floor. Her corset then had been peach colored, stiff beneath his fingers. He’d awoken once in the middle of the night to find her snuggled against him, fingers curled in supplication beneath her chin. It was, he thought now, the first and only time he’d had a women sleep in his bed. But then, she’d had nowhere else to go.And of course, when he’d woken up in the morning she’d been gone. “Wake up, lazy bones,” said a voice from high above him. Clarke of course, dressed in a fresh shirt and trousers. Her corset over her blouse instead of under it. She dropped his hat onto his chest. “What are we doing today?” he asked. “It’s a beautiful day,” she said. “We’re going for a walk.”He raised an eyebrow. “Walking on a boat?”She led him onto the deck, and pointed up the mast. “Walking,” she said, “or as close as you can get.” She climbed the ropes carefully, calculating each move. He followed behind her easily. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this on his own ship. Checking the mast was something his underlings mostly did. But Clarke did it herself, stopping at random intervals to check for splintering.Beneath them, the sea spread out like a mossy hillside. Light on the eastern horizon was just rising, past the moments of grey but before the moments of yellow. It was all purple and orange, the thin line of light promising a beautiful day. They stopped on the foretop. Clarke held onto the rope and leaned out into the sea wind. He looked at her. The braids she’d worn yesterday had loosened around her face. For just a moment her face was at peace, and he decided he needed to ask. “How did you get off the boat?” he asked. She turned back to him. “You should really leave your hostages tied up. Or at least locked in.”“You haven’t done that to me,” he noted simply. He also noted it really wasn’t an answer to his question, but he didn’t comment.“You don’t want to leave,” she said. It was true, but it irked him that she had cut right to the heart of it. “Shall we go up to the crow's nest?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She was already on the ropes and he had nothing to do but follow. The second night passed in the same way as the first. Clarke in her tarty dress, alone in her bed. Bellamy in Raven’s hammock. Raven off wherever she was. She made no move on him, but this time it kept him up longer at night, replaying the first night he’d known him. He waited for her to call him over, to open the hammock and kiss him, or even just to drop his hat on his stomach again. His skin stretched taut with the waiting, and in her bed, Clarke fell asleep.In the morning, he awoke before she did. He hoisted himself out of bed and looked at her. He’d never gotten a chance to see her in the morning light before. She lay on one side with her hands reaching towards something he couldn’t see. A bit of her hair fluttered in and out of her mouth with every breath. She opened her eyes. “Oh good morning,” she said, apparently ignoring the fact that he was staring at her, “I forgot to tell you, Raven had a fight with Finn, so she’s going to need her hammock back. You can sleep on the floor, of course, but you might be more comfortable in the barracks with the other men.”He nodded. “I'm sorry I can't spend time with you today. I have to plot out the course and the log desperately needs updating. But you can find something to do right?”He nodded again, trying to ignore the way his stomach had turned to stone. Leaving her in the cabin, he went onto the deck, and made himself useful wherever he could. The sun rose overhead sending streams of sweat down his back. The work strained his muscles, but it felt good to him. It had been too long since he had a chance to do so. That evening, fatigued, the crew sat on the deck, playing music, and singing songs. They passed around bottles of grog. Bellamy found a seat a little distant and sat himself down. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the barrel on which he sat. In front of him, the crew parted around a couple, who danced to a quick step tune, clapping their hands together. It was a tall, slender man with enough accouterments to create his own music with every step he took. The second mate. And he was with Raven. Raven, who was supposed to be mad at him. He waited until they were done dancing and then sidled up next to her. He yanked his chin, in the direction of the second mate. “I thought you two were on the outs.”She laughed. He had never heard Raven laugh before. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she said, “No,” she said, “why would you think such a thing?” The tone of her voice implied she knew exactly why he would think that. She swept the bottle of grog out of his hand and took a long pull of it. Watching his face, waiting for him to understand.“She’s just playing with me isn’t she?” he asked her. Raven twisted her mouth to one side. “She never intended ...” he trailed off, though, he was sure Raven had far more details then the poise of her eyebrow let on. “If she thinks she can ...” he stopped again. Watching him, Raven took another long drag off his grog. He spun on his heel, fuming. He was half angry with Clarke for pulling this crap on him, setting him up, thinking he could have her. But he was entirely angry at himself that it had worked.He barged past Jack, who sat sleepily at her front door, through her dining room, and shoved open her cabin door. Inside she sat at her desk. Her hair was neatly braided down her back. Instead of her red gown she wore a white shirt, sleeves unbuttoned. It was two size bigger than the one she’d worn that day. A cup of wine sat her elbow but she wasn’t drinking it. “What the hell are you playing at?” he demanded as he burst through the door. She jumped and the ink from her pen splattered across the parchment. And then, a beat later, “is that my shirt?”Her face froze. She drew one bare leg up, folding her knee beneath her chin. “No,” she said quietly, and entirely unconvincingly. “You kept that for three years?” He can’t help the smirk from spreading across his face. She crossed her arms. “It’s only been two.”All of his anger evaporated. Bellamy popped open the top button of his shirt, and crossed over to her desk. “You are just the most stubborn girl I’ve ever met,” he said. He bent down over her. She reached up, and pulled a curl over her finger. Then, she pushed it away. One corner of her mouth turned up. Carefully, so as not to push him away, she drew the other knee up to her chest.“Why would you do that to me?” he asked. He could barely breathe. He feathered his fingers along her neck. He let his thumb rest on the fluttering fast pulse in her neck. Then he reached back into her hair, tugging the tie from the end of her braid. Clarke sat quietly, entirely still. She didn’t answer him. When he kissed her, she was no longer passive. She laced her fingers into his hair. He reached down and pulled her ankles off the chair, dropping the weight of her legs on the floor. He tilted her chin up towards his. “Why would you do that to me?” he asked again, but she only smiled and stood up into him. “Do you really want to ask me questions right now Bellamy?” she asked, unbuttoning his shirt. Her eyes followed the line of him. He didn’t even bother with the buttons on her shirt. He simply pushed it off of her and pulled her flush against him, letting his hands touch every nodule of her spine. He grinned. “I really don’t, but I have to. Just one.”“I’m getting cold over here Blake,” Clarke said, running her finger beneath his waistband. He jumped at the touch, but he was able to keep his voice steady. “Will you be here in the morning?”Her grin was the only answer he needed. The next morning, although port is a day or so off, his ship was back. Where she had sent it, he had no idea. “You paid my price,” she said with a smile. Her crew put a gangplank down between the two ships and the men who hadn’t signed her letter of marque filed over it, blinking from the sharp sunlight, which none of them had seen for the past two days. They looked baffled at their good luck. Bellamy watched, his hat returned to his rightful place on his head. Although his ship was light a load of bounty, he hadn’t come out much the worse for the experience. He felt hollow though, at the thought of returning. Clarke watched silently. When all of the men had crossed over Bellamy followed, trying not to look back. But he couldn’t help it; right as he stepped onto Princess he looked over his shoulder. Only to find that Clarke had followed him over and now she stood above him, her hair falling like a curtain over his shoulder, blocking the light between them. “So what was it that you got back?” he asked into the comfortable quiet.“I didn't get it back,” she said, with a small smile. “But that's alright. I have something better now. Yours.” “My what?”She leaned down and kissed him, tilting his face up towards her, like she was the sun and then, as she pulled away, sweeping his hat from his head and covering her curls with it.“Your heart,” she said in his ear, she scurried over the gangplank.“And my hat,” he said quietly to himself as he watched her cross the bridge between their ships. It fell into the ocean behind her and The Ark sailed off, taking its captain with her.
10220711	STIGMATIC	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "방탄소년단 \| Bangtan Boys \| BTS", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by J_hoe3", "chapters": "4/4", "completed": "2018-01-10", "published": "2017-03-11T00:00:00", "words": "2,358", "Additional Tags": "angsty, Happy Ending, probably with smut, but also fluff, MAJOR TAEGI ONE SIDED DENIAL, Asshole Yoongi, poor taehyung, sad tae, but end TAEGI", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Kim Taehyung \| V/Min Yoongi \| Suga, Kim Namjoon \| Rap Monster/Kim Seokjin \| Jin, Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung \| V/Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok \| J-Hope/Park Jimin, Jeon Jungkook & Jung Hoseok \| J-Hope & Park Jimin", "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 }	Needless to say, Taehyung was extremely upset. He just wouldn’t show the other members how upset he was. The twenty-one year old poured his heart and soul into his solo song for the “WINGS” album. He wanted to be recognized for his talents, his soul purpose in life as his fans thought. He did get recognized though; he didn’t get the person he wanted to recognize his to actually do so yet. The tanned boy wouldn’t admit it but he was hurting because his favourite hyung didn’t even listen to the song yet and it had been months. This will be the first time. Yoongi didn’t always like Kim Taehyung. The alien-like boy freaked the fuck out of him in all honesty. Over time he had grow a serious soft spot for him. One that could get you in a lot of trouble, or even get your group disbanded. So instead he would act colder to him so that the boy would stop being so clingy to him. Yeah, that never worked. Yoongi had thought the way he got in was dirty, until he later found out what actually happened. He would never admit to it, but Taehyung had some serious pipes. When Taehyung started to realize that his favourite hyung didn’t like him as much as he fawned over his fellow 95’ liner, he had felt heartbroken and jealous. He quickly learned how to mask his emotions around the rest of the group though. Jin-hyung and Namjoonie was the only ones who knew in the rest of the company. He was sure that PD-nim had figured it out though. He didn’t seem to care or really acknowledge it though. With all the awards and performances lately he needed some rest but quickly opted out when Yoongi announced that he, Jimin, Namjoonie, and Jin were going to the studio for a mid afternoon vocal training for their upcoming “WINGS” tour where they would be singing their solos, Taehyung quickly got up to go along. It’s not like he doesn’t like hearing his best friend’s beautiful voice, he just didn’t like all the praise that he would get for barely even doing anything. Namjoonie and Jin had gone to Joon’s studio so that he could work on Jin’s solo. That left him, Jimin, and Yoongi altogether in one room. After Jimin was done getting worshiped, Yoongi roughly told Taehyung to get in the recording booth so that they could hurry up and get it over with. Like always, Tae had to act as if it didn’t hurt; he got up and walked into the small padded room fraughtingly. The music started as soon as he put the large studio headphones on his ears. Roughly thirty minutes later, Taehyung was holding back tears as he listened to his hyung complain about the song and everything about it. He said anything from it was unimpressive to how it didn’t match the rest of the album. Taehyung had enough once Yoongi shouted at Jimin for sticking up for him. “Come on Jimin! You can’t possibly think that it sounds good that high. There’s no fucking way that he can even pull it off. If he songs lower it’ll sound shitter than it already does. It’s like he doesn’t even give a fuck about this group”. Taehyung can faintly hear Chim taking his side on how good it sounds while he takes the headphones off roughly before setting them on the stand. As he flings the door open he notices that Jimin and Yoongi are still arguing about him. Anger rises as quickly as he breathes in the pure smell of Yoongi. They both stop arguing as soon as they see the younger grabbing for his coat. He pretended he didn’t notice Jimin’s hand on top of the man he wish he didn’t loves hand as he reached for the door to leave. “Taehyung where are you going? We’re not fucking done until I-”, Yoongi’s tone is clipped and angry. “Until you say so? Yeah whatever, fuck what you say. I don’t give a fuck about this anymore”, Taehyung rarely cusses, even when he is really mad he doesn’t tend to cuss. The other two seem to notice immediately. “Taehyung wait, there’s no need to leave. Yoongi is just grumpy”, His so-called best friend says while he reaches for tanned skin. Before he can touch Tae, a hand slaps it away. That’s when the older two in the room notice the steady stream of tears that are flowing down his face. “No Chims, I’m done here”, Taehyung says while opening the door. Before he can leave he hears Yoongi scoff. “What? Are you mad that Jimin here is an actual singer that made more progress than you ever will? Admit it, your song sounds like shit however you sing it. I know you heard me i left my mic on on purpose”, Yoongi says as if it were burdening him. That was the last straw for the youngest. “FUCK YOU MIN YOONGI! CLEARLY YOU DON’T SHIT ABOUT ME! I BET YOU DON’T EVEN CARE! I’m done here, I’ll pack my shit up and leave tomorrow morning if that’s what it fucking takes. But fuck you both. I hate you Min Yoongi”, with that Taehyung took off down the hallway. Taehyung couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, hear or feel. He was broken. Yoongi had just pushed off to much on him. Taehyung knew he was grumpy but he didn’t have the fucking right. It was always Jimin. That was all he could think. Even as he ran into someone hard enough to make him fall to the ground, successfully knocking the breath out of his lungs. Now all he could feel was fear, he was scared to face anyone, or anything. He remembered looking up at Jin’s blurry face as he scrambled away, running even faster now. He remembered flying out a door into the cold night air and just running. Body on fire, lungs on fire, legs on fire. He ran. How ironic. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Taehyung ran for gods know how long. It was cold and he ended up dropping his coat when he collided into Jin. He was currently seated in a park somewhere in the city. He must have been running for awhile, he thought to himself. Taehyung was still crying into the sleeve of his thick sweater. He sat in the top part of a playground underneath a slide cover. It was going to rain, he smelled it. The night had fallen too so it was colder. Winter night plus rain was not good to be caught in. At this moment he could only think about not going back at all. Back at the studio, Namjoon and Jin were currently screaming at a very upset Jimin and frozen Yoongi. “HOW COULD YOU FUCKING SAY THAT TO HIM MIN YOONGI?! YOU KNOW HOW HE IS! HE ONLY WANTED TO BE CLOSE TO YOU BUT YOU WENT AND FUCKING INSULTED HIM AND DEGRADED HIM AND NOW HE WON’T EVEN PICK UP HIS FUCKING PHONE!” Jin was livid, he didn’t about Taehyung’s secrecy anymore. Namjoon was also livid, he was seconds from punching the older, paler man just to get some sort of reaction from him. Taehyung was lost out in the cold, without his jacket, and now it was fucking raining. On top of all of that the words that were said to the poor kid made him turn off his phone so that it was going straight to voicemail. “HE’S BEEN IN LOVE WITH YOU FOR FUCKING YEARS MIN! HOW COULD YOU NOT NOTICE!?”, Namjoon finally exploded after hearing a small murmur saying he didn’t know it would turn out like that. He had been very harsh. “Listen i’ll go out and find him you just fucking go home I’m sick of seeing you, you too Jimin. I’m not mad at you, I’m just fucking pissed. Call Jungkook and Hoseok and tell them to come to the front now, I’ll call the car Joonie”, Jin pushed his way out into the hall to call the car. It was going to be a long night. Taehyung was shivering violently by now. His hands were clenched so tight by his side his hands were bleeding. He looked like a small ball from where he could be seen. He was on one of the lower levels of the large playground now that it had started raining. Since it was so cold he was long but numb, he would be surprised if he didn’t get a cold or something by now. The tears on his usually tanned face all but disappeared now that there was water droplets slipping down his full cheeks now. He wish he had never felt what love was like, he wished that he couldn't remember that he loved that awful man named Min Yoongi. Taehyung knew he was annoying at times and also weird; Min Yoongi had no right to say such things to him. He always did his very best in whatever he did. Now he was cold, heartbroken, and lost. It had to have been hours by now, he was starting to loose hope of someone coming to find him. He’s pretty sure he left his phone at the studio but he didn’t need it. He had his wallet also Jin-hyung’s phone number memorized. He felt like he couldn’t move. Maybe he should just sleep. That sounded really nice right about now. Jungkook and Hoseok quickly set off in a separate car to find their lost sunshine. Jimin secretly snuck into the backseat without letting Jin see because believe it or not, he was just as mad. Jin and Namjoon quickly started driving towards a nearby park that they would often take Taehyung to during trainee days so that he could get his energy out. It was about fifteen minutes driving a nit over the speed limit but they needed to find him before something serious happened to him. Once they had reached the park the two quickly climbed out with a blanket in hand so that they could warm him up if they found him. “Jin! Over here! I think that’s him”, Namjoon said from across a small field of a playground. Seokjin was quick to spot the small ball underneath one of the slides. He quickly rushed over to the man and sighed in relief when he saw Taehyung’s sleeping face. His lips were a pale blue although. “Namjoon come help me we need to get him into a hot bath like twenty minutes ago”, the eldest said while turning that younger over in his arms. As soon as he was wrapped in a dry blanket Namjoon scooped him up and they rushed back to the car. Jin told Namjoon to bring Taehyung into the master bathroom as soon as they got through the front door. The maknae like adult was slack in his arms, his arm was limply hanging and his head was lulled back. Yoongi sat there on the couch nervously. Once he got a look at his little alien he sighed in relief, then he looked panicked. From what he could see, before he had been rushed into the bathroom by Jin and Namjoon, his lips were blue and his skin was paled. Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok flew into the dorm at an alarming speed. They were welcomed with a broken looking Yoongi and the sounds of a bath running. “Is he alive? Is he okay? He gets sick so easily”, Jimin was muttering as he paced into the living room. Hoseok sat in a love-seat glaring at the older rapper whereas Jungkook went to go help their oldest with Taehyung. Namjoon came back into the living room and sat on the edge of the couch as far away as he could from the black haired man. All was quiet As soon as Tae was in the bathroom he was set leaning again the big bathtub that was filling with warm water he quickly undressed Taehyung with the new help of Jungkook. Only leaving his boxers on, Jin with help slowly lowered the unconscious man into the warm water. Jin sat next to the tub while stroking Tae’s soft, light brown locks gently. He was so cold to the touch it was scary. “Will he be okay hyung?”, Jungkook asked quietly. “I don’t know Kook-ah, let’s just make sure he wakes up and gets warm yeah?” the oldest said shakily. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- YOYOYOYO I'VE BEEN SUPER BUSY WITH SOME FAMILY PROBLEMS I'LL UPDATE SOON I'LL PROBABLY ONLY HAVE ONE OR TWO MORE CHAPTERS OF THIS ONE. BARE WITH ME FOR A LITTLE LONGER <3 ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Taehyung woke up many hours later. The last thing he had remembered was falling asleep at the park. Now he looked around noticing his surroundings. He was in his Yoongi's bed in his and Jin's shared room. His body felt sore Looking over he felt a slight warmth in compassing his body. Pale arms were holding him tightly and short, steady breaths were hitting the top of his head. Looking up to Yoongi's face he felt saddness. His hyung hadn't held him like this in so long. He had missed it so much. Deciding not to ruin the moment, he snuggled back into Yoongi's chest. Little did he know the older was already awake. "Taehyung-ah, I-I. Hyung is sorry", Yoongi said quietly while gripping onto the younger boy tightly. Tae's head snapped up to look at the older. The room shifted to a softer tone. "I was wrong Taehyung. Your voice is, well, one of the most beautiful sounds to ever exsist. They way you express you soul through your voice is one that angels couldn't even master. I am sorry. I love you Taehyung. In the same way you love me". Taehyung's eyes were full of hot tears. All his worries slowly faded into the distance and nothing else mattered but his Yoongi. He loved Taehyung, in the same way he's always loved Yoongi. From then on out, Taehyung and Yoongi's bond became so tight and full of love. they lived happily ever after.
10203476	Bottom Erwin Week Poems	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": null, "Characters": "Erwin Smith, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)", "Fandom": "Shingeki no Kyojin \| Attack on Titan", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by angededesespoir", "chapters": "2/2", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-10T00:00:00", "words": "363", "Additional Tags": "Poetry, not my best work but eh it's something, vague sex mention, Illness, i like the second poem better tbh", "Relationship": "Levi/Erwin Smith", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Bottom Erwin Week", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "M/M, Multi", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	This is the closest thing to playing house- run around like he’s a cat and you’re a mouse. Fires blazing- make sure you douse; this is the closest thing to playing house. Round up the children and scrub each blouse- sweep the floors and don’t be a louse, This is the closest thing to playing house- run around like he’s a cat and you’re a mouse. Command by day and submit by night- wreck the bed, then make it right. He’ll kiss each nerve ‘til blinding light -Command by day and submit by night. Over soap and mops- fight; then, with tea, he might forgive the blight. Command by day and submit by night; wreck the bed- then make it right. Take your soul and pledge your heart- offer him a brand new start. He can kiss your wounds when they smart. Take your soul and pledge your heart; give him kisses- bittersweet, like a tart. Let him plot your chart then get on knees and beg him please not to part. Take your soul and pledge your heart; offer him a brand new start. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- In chills, he shed my clothes and gently pushed me down, curvingover me with a deep-set frown. The rain had pierced quickly-the fabric worn and thin, and water dripped, seeping, through bed and linen. In me was a stirring I knew he could see,but he shook his head and turned away and would not look at me. He rang out rags and draped them and I could not tell if this be a burning heaven or a chilling hell. I thoughtI heard the whispers in his caresses, saw the longingthere. Maybe it was fever talking- I called his name with-out care. His response was gentle shushing and a kiss up-on the cheek- ‘Rest, my commander; we’ll talk after you sleep.’He slipped away, too far in the haze- And I fell to the sound of my lips and his name, and the rough hand that brushed and again went away. I thought that was all, as I let world fade; then damp arms were around me and the rain went away.
10238084	dying in a fire sounds	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Jackson Wang, Mark Tuan", "Fandom": "GOT7", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by bloopee", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "3,702", "Additional Tags": "Crack, Fluff, Vampires, Alternate Universe - College/University, i'm honestly not satisfied with this at all, sorry - Freeform, my kink is late night talks, somewhere... it went wrong", "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 }	"Sir... It's your 8th Bloody Mary this evening and we're closing in 10 minutes. Are you okay to call someone to come get you?" Mark asks. The man stares at the empty glass in front of him, watching it as if waiting for it to refill itself. Sadly, it doesn't. Mark sighs. What an evening. (At least the shitty customer is cute.) "What's your name?" The man asks. "I'm Jackson." He says proudly before Mark. "Mark." Mark answers immediately after and then sighs at himself. He hopes this strange dude doesn't have stalkerish tendencies. "You're very beautiful, Mark." Apparently Jackson raises his eyes from the glass and meets Mark's with a polite smile. Mark just takes away the empty glass (with secret appreciativeness for the compliment) and calls a cab. Jackson doesn't leave without scribbling down his number on the bar table which Mark has to sit back 10 minutes after his shift to clean. (But not before writing it down into his contacts.) It's when they're on their second date does Mark throw a sarcastic comment towards a couple they see making out on a park bench does Jackson starts screeching with laughter, surprising even himself. His surprise is probably nothing, compared to that of Mark's who sees two large canine teeth poking out. Mark doesn't say anything because what the fuck was that. Jackson catches himself laughing, quickly shuts his mouth and when he turns to look back at Mark's wandering eyes and ask what's wrong they're gone again. "What was that?" Mark asks, pointing to his own teeth. "My... teeth?" Jackson asks, laughing awkwardly. "What's wrong with them?" He asks, opening his mouth and touching one of his teeth to check. "It's nothing." Mark shakes his head and looks ahead again to the paved pathway, lit up with old school lamps at the sides, and listens to Jackson's ramble about some friend which almost killed him once. He unconsioucly peaks back at Jackson's teeth time and time again and almost every time he gets caught by Jackson. He acts like he doesn't notice it because Jackson is great and Mark will be damned if he doesn't score it. Next time, weeks later, when it happens again it's a little harder to ignore, because they're making out on Jackson's couch and Jackson dips down to bite at Mark's neck. And Mark only feels two teeth graze at his skin and the next second Jackson pulls away with a curse. Mark turns to look at him and watches as he run to his kitchen and comes back with a paper hand towel. Mark feels something hot drip down his neck and he reaches to touch it only for Jackson to tell him to stop. "Don't touch it." He says, sitting back down where he sat before and carefully sets the towel against Mark's neck. "You'll get dirty." "Did you literally just bite me so hard I started to bleed?" Mark asks, looking at Jackson's concentrated expression as he's holding the towel to Mark's neck. He tilts his head sideways to make Jackson's job easier. Jackson's heart probably stutters. "No?" He tries and Mark looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "I mean yeah. Sorry, a total accident." "I didn't know you had a blood kink." Mark teases and sees Jackson's eyebrows furrow. "I didn't either." He asnwers. "I guess being a vampire does that to you." He says and Mark doesn't think for a second it's a joke. He sighs, not believing his damn luck. Jackson stares intently at Mark's face to see how he will react. "Mark, are you crying? Did I hurt you?" Jackson panicks when he sees a tear rolling down Mark's cheek a moment later. "I'm not crying." He says. His voice cracks, a second tear hits Jackson's couch. Jackson startles. "What's wrong baby, why are you crying?" He asks, voice shaking, his fangs which decide to show themselves again gets caught behind his lips every other syllable. "This is just so, so..." Mark's voice keeps cracking. "So ridiculious. Are we in a manhwa? Is this a dream?" He sobs and Jackson doesn't know what the fuck to do, so he only chokes up a short laugh. "Your reaction is more ridiculious though." Jackson tells him and gets his throat slapped. It's only a given Jackson being a vampire doesn't stop Mark from wanting to tap it and keep tapping it for a longer period of time. It's good that at this point Jackson's become so lonely and desperate for human contact he'd take anyone, and anyone, this time, happened to be Mark. "We've been dating for, like, half a year now and you honestly don't seem like a legitimate vampire to me." Mark says one day and Jackson snorts at his phone. "What's up?" "Well, I am so flattered that my boyfriend finally shows interest in my vampyrism." "Right? Isn't that nice." Mark smiles at his own phone, and kicks at Jackson's arm, Mark's legs conveniently draped across Jackson's lap. "Are you gonna ask or do you want me to talk?" Jackson asks, elbowing the leg. Mark screeches. "Who turned you?" He asks right away "This dude named Jaebum. I got in a pretty bad car accident, our cars collided face to face. I was 22, then. It wasn't pretty, I got my face full of glass. Also fucked up my ribcage by hitting the steering wheel. The airbag didn't work." "Ouch." Mark says and Jackson eyes him suspiciously, feeling no remorse or pity coming his way. "Funny thing was the last thing I heard before dying was 'Oh, shit', and the first thing I heard when I came back practically alive was 'Sorry, man. My bad.'" He talks and Mark smiles a bit. It's a little sad imagining your boyfriend dying in a car crash. Mark likes the idea that he'll never experience it. "We still stay in touch to this day. I was living with him for like a year until I got used to all this, I owe him big. That ass-face wouldn't let me off the hook even if I did try to hide from him." He sighs and Mark laughs, then. "How long ago did you turn?" Mark asks, curious. "Uhh..." Jackson thinks. "19...78? Somewhere in the 70s, not that long ago, honestly. Jaebum's been around way longer." "How do you get around like that? Since you don't age, don't you have to move around constantly?" "There are specialists who fake our documents for some money. It's not really that hard. Finding jobs every five to ten years is harder." "That's pretty interesting, honestly." Mark tells him, completely not honestly. "What're your symptoms, that's what I'm curious about. You're not a twilight vampire, are you?" "No, Mark, I don't glisten in sunlight." Jackson deadpans and glares at him. "I melt in that shit." "You what?" Mark laughs. "Yeah! It's ridiculious!" Jackson screams, annoyed. "I'm like an ice cube, if I stay long enough in the sun water starts dripping down my skin since my body's so damn cold. It looks like I'm sweating buckets, though." He talks and Mark still laughs. "It's so fucking annoying, honestly." He says as his finishing statement and Mark just wants to push him out for a walk the next day. "Stop laughing! It's miserable." "What else is there besides your excessive water sweat?" Mark says after he's done laughing. He wipes a tear at the corner of his eye, Jackson still glaring at him. "I don't age and I can't die. I can't eat food, but I still need the vitamins. Without vitamins I don't feel very right" "Is that why you drink blood?" Mark asks. "Yeah. It's like all in one. Real convenient." Jackson nods. "I'm also stronger and faster." Mark thinks of last night. "I noticed..." He says, not the least bit regretful. "Oh, please, I am so gentle with you." "...Right. My ass is sore just because it wants to be." Mark says and Jackson rolls his eyes, not the least bit apologetic. It scares him how close they're coming to be Twilight's Edward and Bella. He shudders at the thought. "Mark, where are you?" Jackson asks over the phone. "In the lab like a good biochemistry student." Mark answers, phone smooshed between his shoulder and ear as he keeps pacing around the room with books in hands. "It's half past midnight, what the fuck are you doing there?" Jackson curses into the phone. "Shut the fuck up, I'm working." "Shut the fuck up, you picked up my call!" Jackson shouts. "Who even let you in there?" "My professor gave me a card since I'm such a good student." "Old lab or new lab?" Jackson asks and Mark hears a car honking over the phone and Jackson apologize quickly. "Don't go killing yourself-- oh. Right." He remembers that Jackson, indeed, does not die. "Yup." "Old lab. Come over if you want to." Mark offers. "Be there in a bit." He says. "Wait!" He shouts when Mark's ready to end the call. "What is it?" He asks, annoyed, and slams another stack of papers onto the table. "If that professor is trying to get favors from you for the special treatment then he's got another thing coming." "My professor isn't trying to get into my pants. He's, like, eighty or something. He probably hardly gets into his own." Mark says and almost feels bad for badmouthing someone who favors him so much. Jackson is bad influence. But the laugh Mark hears over the line makes him feel as though his morals are hardly a price to even consider. Jackon pushes the the door open with two cups of coffee in hand twenty minutes later. "What're you doing, sweetheart?" He sings, way too chipper for Mark to even look up at him and act not annoyed. So he does neither. "Making you a substitute for blood." He answers, ass deep in one of the books he's brought from the tiny library the lab has. "You're what?" Jackson doesn't drop the coffee but he barely manages to stop himself, wanting to make the situation even more dramatic. "If you are here to rob me, I have nothing!" Mark calls into his apparently not empty apartment from his bathroom. He opens the door and exists the room clad in only his sweatpants because he doesn't care if he dies at this point. It's 2am and it's too late to care. "Oh, it's only you." Mark says when he sees Jackson sprawled across his couch. Jackson raises his head to greet Mark. "Hey." He says and Mark nods at him, putting on his shirt. "How'd you get in? The door's locked." Mark asks, going to his kitchen to get Jackson coffee knowing he's most likely staying the night. "You gave me a key, like, a month ago." Jackson calls to the kitchen. "Oh, I did?" Mark asks. "I forgot. I should probably stop doing that." Jackson pouts, even though Mark doesn't see it. He comes back a minute later and hands Jackson the cup. Jackson takes it with a small thank you. "What'd you need?" Mark asks, sitting beside him, taking a sip from his own cup. "Nothing. Just came over for a visit." "Then you can leave now. Nobody wants you here." Mark says, voice fakely annoyed. "Excuse you." Jackson scowls at him. "Go jump out the window or something." "You live on the 15th floor. I'd die." "Didn't you say that nothing can kill you on, like, our first date?" Mark raises and eyebrow at him. "Well... yeah." "You also mentioned it at the bar when we met, as you were asking for your 3rd Bloody Mary. You told me not even her, if she were to appear in the mirrored wall, could take you." "I said that?" Jackson asks, not embarassed one bit. "Yeah. It's weird that you don't remember, you looked sober." "I was completely wasted by then. Sorry." Jackson says and Mark nods. They watch a movie together that night, when Mark finally finds the little sense to ask. "Are you hungry?" He asks. The arm Jackson has around him stiffens. "A little." He admits, shameful. "Here." Mark stretches his arm out in front of Jackson's face. "Are you making fun of me?" Jackson raises an eyebrow, not finding the naked wrist wiggling by his nose all that appealing. He couldn't Instagram it. "Do you not want a piece of me?" Mark wiggles his eyebrows teasingly with a smirk and Jackson sighs. He does drink, but refuses to look Mark in the eyes until next morning when they both wake up in Mark's tiny bed. They're in the lab again, Mark working dilligently, Jackson goofing off on the couch in the corner to keep Mark morally supported. "Are you hungry?" Mark asks, eyes set on the different glass veils in front of him. "No. Your blood is disgusting." Jackson answers, the ball he's been throwing at the wall suddenly hitting a hole into it. Jackson sighs, annoyed. Mark doesn't look the least bit offended. Frankly, he doesn't look like he's paying attention at all. Only talking on autopilot. "Is it?" He asks, pushing a couple bottles, all labeled differently, to the side. Jackson tries to at least think but his mouth works faster. He sighs exasperatly. "No." He says, voice annoyed. "But if I wouldn't tell you that; you'd keep offering, and I can't tell you no when I am actually hungry even though I'd like to refuse." He says, leaning back into the couch. "Oh." Mark asnwers like the topic doesn't faze him at all. It probably doesn't. "Then I guess you're on a diet until I find a solution." He says and Jackson groans. Diets were his second least favorite thing in the world when he was still alive and human, when he was doing fencing. Right after that prick on his team which would always challenge him to dance offs and when Jackson would be this close to winning he'd suddenly not feel well. "I'm not sure why you're doing this for me, but I appreciate it a lot." Jackson tells Mark, pushing away the bitter feeling at the end of his throat he know's hell be feeling as long as he doesn't get what he needs. "I'm not doing this for free, Jackson. Not even if you're my boyfriend." Mark says, finally looking up from his notes. "Time's precious for someone alive. I don't have a lot of it." "Oh." Jackson stutters, his mind immediately thinking of how he can make money in legal ways. "How much do you want?" "It's not how much. It's more of a what." "And what is it, stop making this be so suspenseful." Jackson cries. "You're going to turn me." "Into a vampire?" Jackson asks, just to make sure. Mark finally looks up from the table. He nods at Jackson's wide eyes. "Why?" Jackson asks, not sure why anyone would want to be one. The perks are there, sure, but when you take time to think about the whole of it there're really way more cons. "Because, Jackson, I want to live forever. Like everyone does." Mark explains, feeling like he's talking to a child who just doesn't get how humans work. "I bet you did, too." "I mean, yeah, I did." Jackson answers. "But do you really want it? I can turn you. I'm not sure how I do that, but I can ask Jaebum, so, if you're positive..." His voice goes weaker with every word. He's just not sure. Not sure he wants this for Mark. But he does want Mark to stay with him a little longer. Much longer. "I'm positive." "But a forever is a long time..." Jackson still says, ignoring Mark's stern gaze. "And there's no way to kill us as far as we know." "I know." Mark's determined nod scares Jackson a little. "And a forever is a forever, Mark!" Jackson exlaims. "Do you realize how long is that? We'll go mad! We'll probably go challening people to kill us, we might rampage! We'll probably turn into monsters!" "But going mad together after a forever doesn't sound all that bad, does it?" Mark says, voice easy as if it were trying to assure Jackson. Like it didn't bother him one bit. "Then why don't we turn you now?" Jackson asks immediately. To force Mark to see that he doesn't want this. That he isn't resolved enough to live dully for a forever. Because they will eventually run out of new places to see in this world. Because they're gonna move faster than normal people and they're going to have to wait for something new like generations were magazine issues, offering something new every issue. Because they'll have to see their friends come and go, generations change. Because they might grow tired of one another. "I can't do it now." Mark says. "Not until I find a substitute for blood. I don't want to kill people for food." Jackson doesn't answer. Mark probably doesn't want him to either, with him still looking so concentrated with his work even when talking. Jackson doesn't feel tired, a long time will probably pass until he gets tired of anything, but he still turns to lay down properly and try to sleep. "Are you still sure?" Jackson asks, Mark wrapped around him. Jackson's cold body is the only protection Mark has from the heatwave which doesn't seem to get any weaker even at 3 in the morning. "About what?" Mark asks, eyes refusing to open, and as soon as Jackson opens his mouth he talks again. "I'm sure about everything." "About me turning you." Jackson still says like he doesn't do that whenever he gets the chance. "Yup, that goes into the everything." Mark nods against his chest. "Stop being a smartass, Mark. I'm serious." Jackson says, arm around Mark squeezing just a bit, probably a sign of his nervousness. "Oh, when I wake up at 3 in the morning and my head barely functions is when you decide to be serious for once." "Yes." Jackson nods desperately. "Okay." Mark copies his nod. "I'm sure." He says. "We've talked about this every other day for, like, the past two years. Don't you get tired of it?" "But are you honestly sure?" Jackson asks again and Mark groans. "Would you stop asking that? You're like a parrot, so damn repetitive." Mark's tone is harsh, but he still snuggles to Jackson closer. Clings to him and hopes he never has to stop. "I'm growing old here, Jackson. I'm almost 25 now. I finished my research, I finished everything I wanted to when I was alive. So do it." The way Mark says it, it sounds like a challenge. Jackson isn't sure he wants to take this one, though. "I just don't want to fuck this up." Jackson says. "I don't want you to change your mind. This is serious. It's a forever we're talking about here." "I understand that." Mark says. "Even if something were to wipe out humanity, we would be the only ones alive with others like us." "If a meteor hit earth and completely destroyed it, leaving only a bunch of rocks floating around, we would be soaring through space on those rocks." Jackson says. Says and hopes it's scary enough for Mark to think about it even more. To think about it even more and then still decide to spend a forever with Jackson. "Would we not die then? Without any supplies. From lack of vitamins, of oxygen." Mark asks. "I'm pretty sure we wouldn't." Jackson says. "There are vampires to conduct these experiments. We should try to get in touch. I heard they share information." "That's good." Mark decides. "But if a killer virus killed off all of humanity, vampires would be left to fix everything. That could be interesting." He offers a reluctant Jackson. "I guess." "And if we get tired of trying out every single country's in the world hipster ice cream and pizza we can go fight in the war. Not like we'd die." "Hmm." Jackson nods. "We can go to North Korea, by foot, and assassinate Kim Jong Un." "That's an idea." Jackson agrees. "Then we can swim to America by hand and assassinate Donald Trump and then rob him." Mark talks and Jackson smiles secretly. "And then we can lose our whole sympathy for humanity and forget of human emotions." He says. Mark chuckles. And why does Mark chuckle, it's literally the worst thing that can happen to them. "That's right. We'll live grey lifes, then, in some villa in Bell Air and in ugly designer clothes." "I like penthouses more. Somewhere in the middle of a bustling city." Jackson says. "We'll be forced to move often, anyway. We'll get to try out every single type of housing. We can also start different jobs and donate to people in need." Mark seems to be full of great ideas. "Or we can just go to Africa ourselves and try do something there." Jackson offers his own take. "That's right." Mark says. "We can become legit astronauts or deep sea researchers without fear." "Oh my God." Jackson smiles into Mark's hair and Mark smiles as well. "Let's just start our bucket list now." He tells himself he can't possibly stop the shiver of excitment crawling up his spine. "There's so much to do. I can't wait for the day when there's nothing left." Mark says, voice just slightly excited. He yawns. Jackson follows with his own yawn, knocking his chin on the top of Mark's head tucked under it. "When we get really over everything we can legitimately spread killer viruses and rebirth humanity over and over again." "That sounds like an evil plan. I'm probably gonna be so down for anything at that point." Mark's voice is barely above a whisper and Jackson's cold, dead heart melts as if he were in the middle of a street and the sun was shining above. Mark basically has the same effect as the sun, that's not all too good. "I really hope that you will."
10269026	Mikey Way and his Things	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Mikey Way, Pete Wentz, Gerard Way, Frank Iero", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Meow_woeM", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "1,208", "Additional Tags": "Annoyed Mikey Way, Clueless Pete Wentz", "Relationship": "Mikey Way/Pete Wentz", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Observing is Mikey Way’s thing. In a not creepy way of course. It was more calculated and curious. He liked to know the little quirks everyone possessed. It also made it easier for him, in the rare occasion, when he did decide to make conversation. So yes, observing is Mikey Ways thing. He is proud to say, at least in his own head, that he had made it an art form. But as good as he was at his practice, he did miss things sometimes. He's walking off the stage, his once meticulously styled hair now wet and dripping sweat into his eyes and his glasses fogged up. So it’s really not his fault that he almost misses Pete Wentz staring at him. Almost. Even in his post adrenaline rush stage he feels eyes his on him. He looks up to see Pete Wentz look away inhumanly fast. Mikey shrugs, stores this piece of information in his head and hopes Pete doesn't suffer permanently from the whiplash. It turns out this Pete Wentz staring at him thing is now a daily occurrence. Mikey feels eyes on him almost all the time now. And he can’t say that he hates it. In fact, it’s pretty flattering. Men are Mikey Way’s thing. Men and women, both, are Mikey Ways thing. He's bisexual and he knows it. He's out and proud. He's not loud about it like his brother is, but if anyone asks he readily admits it. He was not so open about it a couple of years ago though. He knew what happened to “fags” in high school. He was afraid of what would happen if somebody realised that he was not particularly straight. He became closed off and quieter than usual. Unfortunately/fortunately Gerard is his brother and observing was Gerard’s thing too. Gerard had figured out what was making him upset. Gee sat Mikey down one day and set him straight. He yelled at Mikey for hating himself, lectured him about how bisexuality was natural and super ok and then he came out to Mikey himself. In that particular order. It was a weird rollercoaster of emotions, but it made Mikey respect his brother even more. So yes, dudes are Mikey Ways thing. And in the Venn diagram of dudes Pete Wentz was the intersection of hot dudes and dudes who were Mikey’s type. Therefore, as an extension, he was totally ok with Pete’s not so little crush on him. Confrontation is not Mikey Way’s thing. Definitely not. Mikey Way preferred not to talk at all. Not talking suited his introverted nature just fine. Perfectly even. He didn't need to engage in any sort of friend-making social ritual, ever. There was always an extrovert who sort of liked him and kind of adopted him as a friend. It also helped that all his friends were his brother’s friends primarily and his band mates. His non-confrontational nature extended towards expressing his anger and dislike too. He never failed to make it obvious how much he disliked someone or something. Except he did not yell or even talk. He would just focus his eyes on the person in glare and stare them down till they stoped doing whatever stupid thing they were doing. His glares are so effective they even work on Frank. He also didn't have any trouble dating. He was usually attracted to loud, sometimes obnoxious, outgoing people. He was very, very lucky that they reciprocated his feelings and asked him out. So he hoped this would also be that case with Pete. Patience is also Mikey Way’s thing. He is naturally a patient person. He is one of the only few people who can deal with Gerard’s eccentric nature, occasional temper tantrums and his artist’s blocks. So patient that he doesn't mind dealing with Frank’s shit. The only person who could compete with Mikey’s patience is Ray Toro. Mikey would would even go as far as crowning Ray as the God of patience. So patience is, sort of, Mikey’s thing. He has become very skilled at not being surprised at the sudden touches Pete showers him with. Pete likes to drape himself all over Mikey’s back, or put an arm around his shoulder, or sit too close to him when they're together alone or with friends. Most people brush off Pete’s handsy behaviour towards Mikey as one of peculiarities. But Mikey knows better and so does the rest of Fall Out Boy. But three-fourths of Fall out Boy do nothing but roll their eyes at Pete when they think Mikey isn't looking. Mikey feels kind of honoured that three-fourths of Fall Out Boy trust him. He also learns Pete like to be in control in every situation through his perfected observational skills and so he decides that he will wait for Pete to make the first move. So Mikey remains patient. Kissing is definitely Mikey Way’s thing. He loved it. In his opinion it was the best part of being intimate with someone. In fact it went hand in hand with his observation thing and his non-confrontation thing. It was a great way to know that the other person was like. Their little quirks, likes and dislikes. It was also a great way to understand how someone was feeling. How angry or happy they were without having to utter a single word. Mikey Way loved kissing and he would love to be doing it to one person in particular. But that particular person seemed to have his head so far up his own ass that Mikey Way had almost given up hope. So maybe patience is not Mikey Way’s thing. He is angry and is this close to yelling at the next person he sees. He has been antsy and horribly restless. And there is only one person to blame. It’s Pete. It has been weeks and he has not made even a hint at a move. It’s driving Mikey up the wall. And so Mikey decides that maybe confrontation is totally is thing. Five minutes after this decision he finds himself looming over a bewildered looking Pete Wentz. Pete is, luckily, alone. So Mikey, in a surprising moment of aggression, hauls up Pete by his collar and smushes his lips against Pete’s. It’s so graceless it can hardly be considered a kiss. But it gets the point across pretty well. Because the next thing he knows he’s a part of an extremely intense make-out session behind a bus. And, yeah, maybe patience and non-confrontation are not Mikey’s things, but he really doesn't care now. Because now he knows that, though kissing is his thing, kissing Pete Wentz is mush more his thing. A couple of days later Mikey is in his own bus hunched over a cup of shitty coffee after a very fun hotel night. Frank stumbles in groggily. He performs one of the most comical double takes Mikey has had the honour to witness and points an accusing finger at him. ‘Whose soul did you devour? Why the fuck do you look so fucking happy? Gee! Your brother is broken.’ he says. Mikey just takes a sip from his cup, looking even more amused than before. Pete Wentz is definitely Mikey Way’s thing.
10262912	Enter	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Jeon Jeongguk \| Jungkook, Kim Taehyung \| V", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Kingkiwi", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "10,779", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe, they are adults, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, Established Relationship, Minor Violence, Some Fluff, yes this was accidentally double posted sorry y'all, Horror", "Relationship": "Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung \| V", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "K-pop, 방탄소년단 \| Bangtan Boys \| BTS", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	ENTER. More of a command than an entreaty, it remained the only sign on the squat, brutish building that had once been part of an equally dark strip mall. Now the building stood alone, crouched just outside the faint circle of the nearest street light, plaster and crumbling brickwork clinging to the west wall. Fist-sized chunks of concrete were the only remnants of the building’s long-demolished neighbors. Weeds choked the enormous surrounding gravel-speckled lot. The space remained undeveloped in the years since the mall’s demise.Jungkook passed by the relentless ENTER sign every day, and every day it caught his eye. The dark, ragged letters were magnetic, quicksand for the mind. Enter, he always thought to himself. I wonder what’s in there.Never had he seen anyone enter or leave the building, or even stop to look in the window. The few homeless people that frequented the area were never huddled up against its sides to seek reprieve from the wind or rain. Despite appearing completely abandoned, no birds roosted behind the sign, nor had he seen a single rabbit or squirrel dart across the lot toward shelter. What lurked behind that commanding, compelling sign, no one knew. Grimy windows concealed the interior from prying eyes of passersby. Had this place existed in that downtown lot forever, watching and waiting? ---Jungkook was a man who knew what he wanted. An excellent memory and a no-nonsense attitude toward work got him just that. He graduated college with honors in the first major he chose, seamlessly transitioned into a managerial position at a well-reputed bank, and when he pursued his now long-time partner Taehyung, the word “failure” never crossed his mind. Every day, Jungkook woke at 6:30 a.m. with a mental outline of his day and an extremely accurate estimate of the required effort to complete every task on time. Every morning and evening, Jungkook walked the ten blocks from their apartment to his office in an immaculate suit, not sweating a drop. Taehyung pecked him on the cheek by the door, followed by an ornery but loving smack on the behind. With his lunch bag in his left hand and polished dress shoes pointed unerringly toward his destination, Jungkook’s walk to work took 23 minutes, rain or shine. “You’re too serious,” Taehyung would say every once and a while, a remark that never failed to send Jungkook into an unbecoming pout.It was a Tuesday morning that Taehyung, who had the luxury of working from home, planted a particularly enthusiastic kiss on Jungkook’s waiting mouth. The slap to his rear was more of a half-promissory caress. The look he gained in return was startled, but interested. To both of their disappointment, Jungkook was not the type to be late to work on account of a salacious look. Of course, that said nothing about their activities after he arrived home later that night.Only half-wishing he could conquer his rigid habits, Jungkook set off from the apartment, shoulders stiff with stress at the idea of arriving late. Shredded, tuft-like clouds drifted across the brightening sky, blown by some invisible mighty breath. Jungkook was cool in his suit, but would no doubt warm up by the end of his walk. South four blocks and west six, pass by the optical shop, smile at the children being corralled into day care by a stumbling wave of droopy-eyed parents, cross the street by the man huddled on the street corner, and ENTER.ENTER.ENTER.Had the windows of the small, grimy building always sported yellow newspaper flaking from the glass like the parchment skin of a mummy? Dim light pressed up against the windows, the steady glow barely noticeable through the caked dirt and crowded newsprint. The fact that he didn’t know what waited inside of the building consumed his thoughts. Why was it such a mystery? There had to be a public record of the building and its occupants. One of these days he’d do some searching after work to see if he couldn’t find something. No address was visible on any side of the building, but that shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.Jungkook’s gaze wrenched to his feet as his shoe skidded on a loose rock. One spotless shoe was no longer on the sidewalk, but had stepped into the weeded lot in the direction of the building. Frowning, he shook himself like a startled dog and pointedly returned to the center of the sidewalk, facing due west. This was no time to go exploring. He’d have to hurry now if he was to make it to work in his customary 23 minutes. That building bothered Jungkook the rest of the day. His mind returned to the unexplained light as he filed paperwork, sent emails, and prepared to meet with clients. A light meant electricity, which meant someone paid for utilities, which meant that the building was used and looked after. Who owned the building, and what was it for? Why was it never open? He continually fought the urge to stray from his duties and consult the internet.These thoughts were promptly forgotten at the end of the day when Taehyung reeled him through the front door by his tie.---The moon rose, a round and shining polished coin. The ENTER sign crooned while the building huddled into its foundation, enshrouding itself in soot and inky-black shadow.---Jungkook thudded down a single flight of stairs, lips tingling from Taehyung’s peck. Dew beaded the railing and soaked into his buttoned cuff. A wet and dreary Thursday began as they do, with pregnant, slow-moving clouds of gunmetal gray and sidewalks drowning in equally gray puddles.The young banker stepped high and long to counteract the sluggish weather and a slightly late start. The optical shop slowly fell behind him, faded from the lack of sunlight and resembling a forgotten movie set backdrop. Toddlers in rubber rain boots and shiny coats were an unexpected and refreshing burst of bright color. The man curled up outside of the brokerage firm was missing, no doubt seeking a warmer and drier resting place. ENTER. ENTER. ENTER. Weeds brushed the starched fabric of Jungkook’s slacks to usher him further. The face of the ugly building remained dry as bone, but he hardly noticed. The ENTER sign dominated his vision, a collection of gaping slashes that somehow formed a word, calling.A transparent spot in the window flooded with light, separating itself from the surrounding grime and beckoning his eye. It hadn’t been there before, surely. Jungkook would have noticed. It would be an unbearable waste of an opportunity if he didn’t take a quick look to find the source of that impossible light. A slow jog would easily serve to get Jungkook to work on time as long as he didn’t dawdle too long. The light was old and orange. Jungkook could almost taste its mustiness. Just one look-Though Jungkook’s heart had started beating nervously and his palms were slicking with sweat, he didn’t notice. His body, ingrained with primordial instinct, sensed what his mind could not and balked.Two yards away from the front window, within the halo of ground that the rain refused to touch, Jungkook’s phone chimed. The familiar sound coupled with the worry that Taehyung might have some emergency dragged his attention to his pocket in slow motion. There was a single message from Taehyung, as he’d thought. You forgot your lunch, loser. I can drop it off later if you want XOXO Jungkook blinked slowly, not quite sure when he’d gotten so close to the building. What was I looking for?With one final lingering look at the dirty window and the orange light, he turned away. If he didn’t get back to Taehyung in a timely manner, he’d start to worry and Jungkook would be drowned in an onslaught of increasingly obnoxious texts. Jungkook did not see the clear spot on the window film over, like fungus covering a corpse. He did not see the light flash madly, only to blink out the second his shoes left the gravel lot.He replied to Taehyung and hurried on his way, cursing himself for getting so uncharacteristically distracted. Yet the back of his mind echoed ENTER ENTER ENTER.---“Is everything okay?” Taehyung murmured, dropping his arms over Jungkook’s shoulders. “You’ve been weird lately. Distracted, or something.”Jungkook would never love sharing his weaknesses, but he approached his relationship with Taehyung with the same determined straightforwardness as he did everything else. Gripping his partner’s arms, Jungkook dropped his head against the back of the couch. “I think work is stressing me out, though I can’t think of any particular reason why it should.”Taehyung dropped a kiss on his nose.Jungkook’s face scrunched up. “I’m starting to dread walking to the office every morning.” He sighed. “Maybe I’m entering my mid-life crisis.”Taehyung pulled away to skirt around the couch and drop into the empty space beside him. “I doubt that. You’re only 26. Maybe you’re just antsy because it’s the end of summer. It’ll pass.”Jungkook pulled Taehyung into his side. “I’m sure it will too,” he assured them both. “It’s probably just a seasonal thing.”“If you don’t start feeling better, tell me, alright?” Taehyung always extracted promises and Jungkook always kept them. He intended this to be no different, but promises are funny things. One second you’re swearing to your mom that you’re definitely going to brush your teeth before bed, a fairly simple and straightforward verbal contract. Then you’re on the wrong side of your dorm room door, trying desperately to remember what you did with your key while promising your roommate it must be around there somewhere, you just had it. Next, you’re promising yourself that you’ll only glance through the spot on the window and then you’ll be on your way again. It always seems that the promises that exist inside the mind and lack the verbal component, the human, earthy sound of a voice and word, are much easier to break. After all, there’s no one to hold you accountable but yourself. I’ll just get going in a minute once I see what’s inside- Gray clouds, swiftly increasing in number, masked the lazy evening sun. Shadows evaporated into the air and shrouded everything in a smoky haze, everything except for the ENTER sign and the building on which it perched. The building against which Jungkook’s lunch box rested.He leaned forward, hand already cupped above his eyes to reduce the nonexistent glare on the window pane.Brittle, discolored newspaper was torn away in irregular patches. Jungkook gave it only a glance, eager to see the true interior, but still felt a chill at the grainy photographs splashed across the wrinkled pages: bodies missing limbs or with far too many, amalgamations of man and beast into creatures that were impossible to birth or create. The only words clear enough to read were, “Murder! Murder! Murder!” repeated to the point of meaninglessness.Strangely warm and inviting orange light pressed through the holes. Peering with all his might, Jungkook searched for the source or a glimpse of someone inside, but it was still and empty.Frustrated, he pressed his ear against the glass, startled slightly at its warmth, and held his breath. Perhaps, perhaps…there!A fuzzy, crackling whisper filtered through the window.Was it a voice? Or a recording of some sort, left to play on repeat, speaking to no one until the tape wore into a useless plastic ribbon?Jungkook ground his cheek into the window and curled his fingers around the dirty brick sill. He must decipher the message. It was meant for him. After all, he was the only person who ever approached this building, who even seemed to notice it was here. Damn it! The voice was too quiet, like a conversation overheard through a door. Biting his lip, Jungkook pulled away and searched the exterior for something, some clue or sign as to what he should do next. Ah, of course.ENTER. He only had to ENTER.---“Hm, what?” Jungkook turned to Taehyung.“What?” Taehyung parroted back in confusion.“Didn’t you just say something?”Puzzled, Taehyung shook his head.“Oh. Nevermind then.” Taehyung quirked a crooked smile and turned back to his laptop. Jungkook couldn’t dismiss it so easily. He could’ve sworn someone very clearly said, “Why not?” Perhaps his recent lack of restful sleep was finally getting to him.“You alright over there?”“What?” Jungkook asked, startled.“You’ve been staring off into space for the last five minutes. What are you thinking about?”Jungkook sighed. It felt like 30 seconds had passed, if that. “Just how I haven’t been sleeping well. It’s annoying.”Taehyung closed his laptop and twisted in his chair so they were facing each other. “I noticed you’ve been looking rough in the morning over the past week or two. Maybe you could try listening to something relaxing at night –it could help and it wouldn’t bother me at all.”Jungkook shrugged. “I’m willing to give it a shot. I’ve been feeling off for a while and I’m tired of being tired.”Visibly worried, Taehyung pursed his lips. “I’ll do some research, see if I can find some good music or relaxing podcasts. I’m sure we’ll have you sleeping like the dead in no time.”“You’re always taking care of me.” It was truly a miracle that he’d managed to snag someone as goofily endearing and kind as Taehyung, that his absurd feelings of devotion were returned in any measure, let alone full-heartedly. Every day, every year they remained together, Jungkook continued to be amazed by his partner’s ability to be so overwhelmingly good. It was all he could do to help Taehyung flourish.Thoughts along those lines ran through Jungkook’s head fairly often, but he hadn’t said them aloud yet. He was saving that for the proposal. ---“Well, here goes nothing.”Jungkook plugged in his headphones and selected the playlist Taehyung put together. A startled chuckle escaped him at the title: “Go the fuck to sleep.” Taehyung would be to bed in an hour or so when he reached a stopping point in his latest commission. Until then, Jungkook was curled up in the sheets on his own, hoping the first soothing swells of piano music would drag him under.“…why not?”Grumbling, Jungkook flipped over and kicked off the blanket. He kept his eyes tightly shut, hoping that he’d quickly fall back asleep. Whatever dark dream that’d been briefly interrupted had him squirming with discomfort. “…enter…why not?...”Was he dreaming already or was the podcast still running? He ripped the headphones from his ears in a weary swipe.A door, there was a door standing in the middle of a forest clearing, completely alone. No sun or moon illuminated the space, but Jungkook could see every leaf and blade of grass in perfect relief. The odor of wet, rotting leaves invaded the lush greenery and choked his throat. No insects chirped, nor did any nocturnal animals disturb the absolute silence of the clearing. Despite Jungkook’s apparent solitude, the air was heavy with expectation. Everything focused upon the derelict door, which was barred from the inside, something he knew but couldn’t explain how he knew. The knob, dull brass, was rusted into place in the absence of human hands for countless years, but suddenly Jungkook was directly before the door, reaching, and everything around him stretched and towered over him, judging, encouraging, watching, ENTER, ENTER, ENTER. Click. The door was unlocked. And endless, grating creak scraped across his nerves as the door slowly swung open. The crackling voice returned.“Why not?”“Why not?”---The bright morning light filtering in through their gauzy bedroom curtains was a searing spotlight to Jungkook’s watering eyes. Forcing himself into a sitting position, he scrubbed his face, exhausted. Taehyung was already gone, probably struck by a bout of inspiration that couldn’t wait for normal human hours.Jungkook didn’t remember falling asleep, but neither could he recall waking up during the night. Both his phone and the earbuds were nowhere to be seen, and the blankets were heaped on the floor. One thing was for sure: he felt like complete shit. Groaning, he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled toward the closet in search of his work clothes. Work waited for no man, even a tired one.Each subsequent morning was worse than the one before, but Jungkook forced himself to be awake and out the door on time. Limbs aching with fatigue, he lurched down the single flight of stairs, only slightly energized by Taehyung’s morning kiss. Every step was a painful slog against inertia and the burdensome weight of his own body.Jungkook had never felt older or wearier, like his mind and limbs were suddenly anchored to the cement. He’d talked about the parts that he could vocalize with his partner, but short of going to a doctor or a shrink, there didn’t seem to be anything either of them could do. South four blocks, pass by the optical shop, which was a pale and thin cardboard construction against a backdrop of similarly flimsy buildings. The whole street was fake and transitory, bad imitations left to rot in the elements. Jungkook couldn’t recall when everything he saw had begun to fade into sepia tones, but it only drained him further.Turn right.ENTER.The light pulsed. ENTER. “Why not?”“Why not?”Indeed, why not?The building that had seemed so aggressively dirty and thuggish was now a beacon, the only thing that felt solid. The bricks were sturdy and vibrant, and the orange light shone like the sun hadn’t in weeks. Perhaps this was where he belonged all along. He had to get inside, but where was the door? Jungkook’s lunch bag dropped to the ground as he became lost amongst the weeds, frantic to answer the call of ENTER and “Why not?” and soak in that indispensable warmth. The windows were completely obscured with grime, making the absence of the clear spot from the other day quite obvious. His fingers scrabbled at the wooden frame, but the windows were never meant to open. Panting, Jungkook pulled, scraped, and banged on the glass in wild desperation. Sweat broke out across his forehead despite the autumn chill and his heart galloped in his chest as the windows failed to rattle, crack, or come clean. When his efforts proved useless, Jungkook fell to his knees and shoved his fingers along the cracks of the bricks, searching for a hidden door or concealed switch.ENTER! the sign sang. The compulsion echoed through his mind and easily drowned out all other thoughts.“I’m trying,” he wailed, “Let me in, please!”ENTER it bellowed and Jungkook was crying now, nails torn on the rough bricks, and ah! The sensation of cool, smooth metal appeared beneath his hand. Slowly, he raised his head to see a dark wooden door. The plain, slightly uneven slats were familiar and he knew that if he turned the door knob, it would be locked. Click. Blinking slowly, Jungkook pushed himself to his feet, completely unaware of the pain in his raw, scraped fingers. Any second, he would wake up from this bizarre dream and be in his bedroom, curled up with Taehyung. Any second. The door swung open.He stepped across the threshold.Diffused orange light hovered near the ceiling with no discernable source, while the corners of the room remained lost in a deep gloom. The same could be said for the far end of the building, which, based on the exterior dimensions, should have been within easy sight. Instead, the numerous shelves marched into hazy shadow. Said musty wooden shelves ran perpendicular to the front door, precariously stacked with all manner of objects, none Jungkook could identify from a distance.Slowly spinning on his heel, he took in the closed door, an empty corner, shelves, and…mannequins. There was a crowd of wooden and plastic mannequins of both sexes, divested of all clothing and missing an assortment of limbs. They sported huge, ragged gouges across their torsos and heads. Every single one faced him in a jumbled crowd, ringed by their detached arms and legs. If he didn’t know better, Jungkook would say they had been flash frozen while lunging toward something.He kept his distance.A noise drew his attention toward the back of the little shop –for that’s what it had to be. It resembled a small, folksy general store or knick-knack shop, the kind that died out long before Jungkook’s time.“Hello?”It was a little late to call out, but surely if there were someone in here, they would have already revealed themselves.The now familiar popping hiss wafted from the obscured end of the store, along with a high-pitched whine that made his ears ring. “I think you left the radio on,” Jungkook called softly. The shelves loomed over him as he cautiously made his way down the middle aisle. The sound of his voice was strangely flat.“16…30…12…0…♪♪♪…” (click for audio)A fuzzy, crackling voice floated from the obscured depths, electrifying his fried nerves. After every four or five numbers, the voice was replaced by eerie, jangling chimes, followed by the rhythmic repetition of more numbers.The orange light held steady. Jungkook found himself examining the contents of the closest shelves. A collection of crusty jars filled with murky liquid were stacked at eye level. Something dark and lumpy floated in the center of each jar, preserved or pickled, but it was impossible to determine the exact contents. The gray-green crust decorating each lid was more than enough to discourage him from picking one up to find out.One of the lumps twitched, sending liquid sloshing against the side of jar.Jungkook spasmed in disgust and quickly turned away, a burst of adrenaline shooting through his veins. It had to be his imagination. It would be impossible for something living to survive in a sealed jar. The adjacent shelf was piled with small, pale porcelain dolls, amongst which there was not a single eyeball to be found. The bottom of each doll’s face was completely crushed, leaving sightless eyes over gaping, missing chins, and their legs had been dipped in sticky, tar-like sludge up to the knees. “…37…6…18…♪♪♪…11…”The voice no longer asked, “Why not?” or called for Jungkook to enter.Hurrying along, his eye caught on a stack, several inches thick, of school children’s alphabet sticker sets. They were remarkable only in their normalcy. Jungkook felt safe touching them. He fanned the stack out across the shelf. Each set of stickers was exactly the same and though at first glance, it looked like there was one sticker per letter, it quickly became clear that was not the case.Jungkook slowly stepped back until he bumped into the shelf behind him and flinched away.J U N G K O O K.His name repeated over and over again in primary-colored block letters, sheet after sheet after sheet.Squeezing his eyes shut, Jungkook hurried down the aisle, refusing to look at any of the shelves. Things were strange here, filling his mind with images of doors, shadowed faces, and reaching hands. Did the real world still exist outside these brick walls? Or had the building become the world, a cage from which Jungkook would never emerge?His eyes snapped open when he tripped and almost fell. He managed to catch himself on a shelf, but immediately yanked his hand away and stumbled to a knee.“Oh my God!”Crimson slime oozed from his left hand, resembling jellied blood. He desperately wiped said hand on the dusty tiled floor and his slacks when that proved ineffective. Panting, Jungkook got to his feet. Don’t look at the shelf. You’ll only regret it.He looked at the shelf. The same disturbing slime oozed across an entire shelf, crawling over the edges and to the floor here and there. In the middle of the gelatinous puddle perched a tented piece of paper bearing the label “$10” in neat handwriting. Jungkook would have laughed at the incongruous sight, but he was too close to puking from the sensation of warm slime between his fingers.“…15…27…8…”Cringing, Jungkook slunk away toward the voice. Shadows veiled this end of the building, choking the orange light. A shape emerged from the darkness. It was a chestnut counter crafted by careful, loving hands in some year far gone by. Instead of ledgers, goods, and sheaves of packing paper, the old counter only dealt in dust and cobwebs, which sprawled across the smooth surface like delicate lace. The radio sat in the very center. It was made of a similar wood, with worn black dials and a dependable base. Engrossed by the sight, Jungkook didn’t immediately notice that the voice stopped speaking. Static reigned, buzzing unevenly until it filled his mind with aural snow.The feeling came over him all of a sudden. This strange radio, he thought, It’s been here forever. This was no theory, but a certainty. Jungkook’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. Not one to be nervous, he reached for the tuner, curious to see if he could find a station.The voice spoke.His hand stopped a hair’s breadth away from the dial, startled into motionlessness.“…Paul…Jay…Maria…”Names, obviously, but of whom he had no idea. What did the voice want, and did it know he was here? Taking a deep breath to fortify himself, Jungkook twisted the dial. The light illuminating the tuner flickered, but the voice did not, repeating the string of names twice before pausing to let the menacing chime play.Intrigued, he searched for a power switch. Would the staticky voice speak even with no power? A brief search returned nothing of the kind, only dusty fingers and an unsettling sensation roiling in his stomach. Even if there was no switch, it must have a power cord. The radio looked much too old to take batteries.“There you are.”A thin, brown cord jutted from the back, trailing behind the counter in a stiff arc. Jungkook planted one hand on the counter and leaned to get a better angle. Every hair on the back of his neck stood up. He froze, suddenly and painfully tense while the radio droned on.“…Paul…Jay…Maria…”He spun around and choked on his own startled gasp.Mannequins.They trailed away into the gloom of the main aisle, heads cocked, remaining arms and legs frozen in mid-motion. The closest was a mere ten feet away, missing its left arm and a fist-sized chunk from its abdomen. Jungkook clutched the edge of the counter, eyes wide.Every childhood nightmare, every horrifying daydream was alive before him and there was no chance he would wake up.“Lenay…Marc-Andre….Keiko….” the radio murmured in its child voice. “John…Natalia…Christine…”Jungkook trembled and tried not to blink. If he didn’t blink, they couldn’t move. If he didn’t blink, they couldn’t get him.His hands convulsed around the wood. His eyes watered.Tucked away in Jungkook’s front pocket, his cell phone moaned, attempting to cough out its special ring tone for Taehyung. The vibration was anemic, sputtering out while the drunken ringing persisted. Without blinking or moving his eyes from the mannequins, Jungkook slid the phone free of his pocket with the tips of his fingers and blindly swiped to the answer the call. The mannequins remained motionless, frozen by his gaze. “Yes, this is Jungkook.”“Is everything okay? Where are you?” Taehyung asked worriedly. “You’re late for work and they called me.”Work. So the world still existed outside these brick walls, away from these nightmare shelves, in spite of these abominable creatures.“I’m okay,” he responded mechanically. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. “I felt nauseous on my way to work, so I stopped in the optical shop to sit down. I forgot to call. I’ll be in shortly. Thank you for worrying about me.” It was strange how easily the lie came to his lips. “Of course I do, you dork. If you aren’t feeling well enough to make it to work, I can come pick you up, it’s no problem,” Taehyung said. His voice echoed strangely in Jungkook’s ear. “No, I’m feeling better now.”Something among the mannequins creaked. Jungkook flinched so badly he almost dropped his phone. “Thanks for calling. Love you, Taehyung.”“You too! Look after yourself, lover boy. See you after work!”The call ended. The room was silent except for the crackling blank static of the radio. Clenching the phone in his hand, in a burst of motion Jungkook dashed to the side and down the nearest aisle. Hands grasped at his shirt, the cool fingers pulling away as he refused to slow down. The overhead light dimmed. Stomping footsteps followed closely behind and Jungkook understood how rabbits’ hearts could burst from fear. The end of the aisle was upon him, the sight of newspaper-plastered windows a relief. His shiny dress shoes slid through a warm, wet patch on the hardwood floor, sending him skidding into the window. He caught himself with his hands and desperately pushed away. A heavy body crashed into the same spot a second later. The door. Where is the door? Windows lined the front of the building, uninterrupted. The darkness was almost complete.Jungkook sprinted, thighs burning. The store shouldn’t have been this long, but the windows and shelves continued. Breathing was difficult, the combination of panic and exhaustion choking him. A sob heaved through his chest. Just when he was about to fall to the floor, dim brass glinted in the fading light, a beacon. He swore the doorknob wasn’t there before, but Jungkook lunged at it like one does a rope thrown from a ship. The rusty metal scraped his hands and did not turn. He almost screamed.The light went out. Jungkook burst through the door. He landed on hands and knees in the gravel parking lot, panting and drenched in sweat. The morning light seared his eyes. His mind was silent.--Taehyung paused in his mission to stack everything on the table into a towering pile for easy removal. “Did you need this, or can I recycle it?” he called toward the living room where Jungkook was folding laundry.“Hm?” Jungkook answered distractedly. A hanger occupied his mouth so he could straighten and hang his dress pants. “This list. It has, uh, jars, dolls, stickers, candles, a monkey’s paw, tea cups, and pencil shavings on it, plus a bunch of random numbers. Is this from work?” Taehyung flipped it over, but the back was blank. Frowning, Jungkook laid his slacks across the back of the couch and joined Taehyung by the dining room table. “It doesn’t sound familiar. Are you sure it’s mine?”“I know what your handwriting looks like, honeybunch. You wrote it.” Taehyung handed him the list and turned back to his pile and dust rag. The list was exactly as described in what was definitely Jungkook’s handwriting. He also had no recollection of writing it. Some of the numbers were vaguely familiar, but he worked with numbers all day, so that wasn’t unusual. The objects, however, were completely random and nonsensical. He could have believed it was some sort of purchase list initially, but pencil shavings? A monkey’s paw? Maybe he wrote it while half-asleep. Maybe he really was having a mid-life crisis, but one that included completely losing his mind. Disgruntled, Jungkook crumpled it up and tossed it into the trash. Maybe he could harness this power to write things unconsciously for work reports. “So?”Taehyung’s precarious pile was pinned between his arms and chin as he moved it to God-knows-where. “No idea,” Jungkook shrugged. “You’re getting weirder every day,” Taehyung felt the need to point out.Jungkook stuck his tongue out. “Takes one to know one.”---Pencil shavings spilled over the edge of shelf, strings of wooden curls piled high. Jungkook brushed his fingers through them, unconcerned about the graphite coloring his fingers and the shavings dropping onto his shoes. “Pencil shavings,” he murmured. The feel of the wood against his skin was oddly soothing.He drifted to the next shelf where small, square books were piled high, covered in a thick layer of dust. Each looked exactly the same: thick, with dark leather covers embellished in flaking, flowering gold. He stroked the cover of the top book and flipped it open with dusty fingertips. To his mild surprise, the books were actually photo albums. Every page displayed a polaroid photo of people smiling, arms thrown over the shoulder of a friend or family member: men, women, and children, laughing and washed out from overexposure. The fashion of their clothing ranged from classy ‘40s styles, to the draping yellows and greens of the ‘70s, to contemporary skinny jeans and floral prints. Most remarkably, no one had eyes. The top halves of their faces were smooth, just dips and curves of flesh, unmarked and unbroken, melting into noses and too-large mouths frozen in eternal grins.“Lenay…Marc-Andre….Keiko….” the radio droned. Discordant notes jangled from a strangled piano, staticky through the speakers.“Photographs,” he whispered.Jungkook moved down the aisle. Two photo albums slid from the shelf and clattered to the floor in his wake, thrown open to random pages. One of the pictures was black around the edges and sepia-toned. An eyeless woman with light hair leaned against an old-style wooden counter, smiling and waving at the camera in a fitted skirt and blazer, hat pinned to her head. The photo on the opposite page was faded and spotty, but the same woman was visible, crumpled on the floor with hair fanned across her face and a hand reaching up the counter, toward a stately old radio. A dark splotch crept from beneath her prone body, black and matte despite the glossy photo paper. He stopped in front of another set of shelves. They were empty except for a shelf at waist-height. It was wet. No. A pool of water, calm and black, was even with the top of the shelf. How strange. Jungkook crouched to see how deep the container of water was, but there was no container. The shelf was a stained wooden board, just like every other shelf, and the side was about an inch thick. There was no container sitting on the shelf or hanging below it. Somehow, the water was contained on or in the single board, stopping at the edge instead of spilling over.A thumbtack jutted out of the side of the shelf with a price tag hanging from it. Jungkook turned the small paper over. The price, printed in neat handwriting, was $00.00. Intrigued, he slowly raised a hand, hesitating right over the water. His brain, used to straightforward numbers and a world that behaved according to his expectations, told him the pool couldn’t be that deep.Jungkook plunged his hand into the water. It wasn’t water at all, instead unexpectedly warm and thick. Instead of hitting the bottom of the shelf or going straight through, his arm went into the liquid up to the elbow, completely out of sight. Ice-cold fingers grabbed his wrist and yanked down. Jungkook screamed as he fell into the liquid up to his shoulder. The disconnect between feeling his arm in the pool and seeing nothing below the shelf befuddled his mind, but he braced a foot and his other hand against the shelf and heaved backward. The grip tightened, as cold and merciless as an iron shackle. He bellowed and pulled with all his strength, unable to feel relief as his arm slowly rose from the thick substance, streaked in black, ink-like stains. Elbow, forearm, and finally his wrist was visible. A bone-white hand was clamped around it, tangled with stringy black hair that disappeared beneath the surface. Jungkook slammed his wrist into the side of the shelf, digging the sharp edge into the grasping fingers. Slam.Slam.The flesh split under the assault, revealing white tendon and bone. After one last smash, the lacerated fingers released their grip and retreated into the pool. Jungkook’s wrist was striped in red and black. He lurched back, cradling his arm to his chest. The pain and panic burned through something in his mind. Clarity returned in a rush, like cool night air sweeping away a bank of fog. He didn’t remember coming here. There was no recollection of twisting the doorknob and stepping through the portal into this musty hell. In the dim, filtered light, the shelves went on for miles. The voice crawling through the radio came into focus, rising above the pounding of blood in his ears. Jungkook kept his eyes on the floor as he loped down the aisle toward the front of the building. The door sat unassuming and complacent between two banks of obscured windows. “…Jungkook,” the radio called.The mannequins stood in their frozen hoard, remaining limbs entangled. They watched him pass. He disappeared through the door.--Sighing, Jungkook closed the door of his home office and dumped his briefcase on the desk. This was one of the none too rare days he’d need to work from home to be ready for tomorrow’s meeting. Taehyung was in the kitchen, swinging his hips to an obnoxiously catchy pop beat while he whipped something up for dinner. Jungkook dropped into his chair and spun around a few times just for the hell of it. Taehyung wasn’t here to make fun of him. Catching himself with his foot, he gathered the papers currently strewn across the desk, glancing through them to see what should be kept and what could be recycled. Bill, bill, to-do list from a few months ago with nothing checked off (Taehyung’s, of course), bill, receipts for Taehyung’s overenthusiastic Amazon order, another list-Frowning, Jungkook pulled the page free. The top few lines were filled with strings of numbers that, a quick glance told him, followed no particular pattern. Below that was a list of random words, followed by unfamiliar names. It couldn’t be a client list even though it was written in his handwriting. It chilled him, particularly as the memory of the previous note resurfaced, the one Taehyung found while cleaning a few weeks ago. Jaw clenched, Jungkook folded the strange list into quarters, ripped it apart, and buried it in the bottom of the recycling bin. Determinedly settling in his chair, he popped the briefcase open and pulled out his laptop and an array of manila folders. It was time to get some work done and quit worrying about ridiculous things. So what if he had no recollection of writing that list? It was probably a doodle from when he was talking on the phone, a way to keep his hands busy.Scooting his laptop to the side, he flipped open the folder and pulled out the top packet. They were slides from his boss’s power point presentation scrawled with Jungkook’s notes. Paging through, his hands froze on page eight. Comments on the presentation morphed into names and numbers, devolving into “$00.00” repeated over and over again across the remaining pages. He flipped the packet over. Strange sketches dominated the back: faces with cutting eyes and gaping mouths. He’d never been much of an artist apart from work-related graphs and charts, but these rough portraits were striking. Lifelike yet menacing, they watched him from the page.He threw the packet into the recycling bin, pulse hammering. The folders were shoved back into the briefcase and the whole thing was slung into the closet. Antsy all of a sudden, Jungkook escaped down the hallway toward the kitchen. Taehyung’s music thumped from the Bluetooth speaker on the top of the fridge, accompanied by his impressively clear and on-pitch voice. Jungkook swooped up behind him and pulled his partner into a hug as he stirred a pot of pasta. “Oh, hey. You finish work?”“No, I’m taking a break,” Jungkook murmured into his neck. He rested his forehead on Taehyung’s shoulder.“More like you couldn’t resist this,” Taehyung chuckled. A wag of his head indicated that “this” was his hot body.“You know me too well.” Sighing, Jungkook gave Taehyung a squeeze. Talking to him always made him feel better, no matter how bad the day. “Hey, move for a sec.” Taehyung bumped Jungkook’s head with his shoulder and moved out of his arms. His target was apparently the cutting board, where a peeled onion was waiting. “Add onions to the grocery list, would you?” He threw a wink back at Jungkook.“Yeah, sure.” Jungkook grabbed the list from the side of the fridge and immediately dropped it. Snatching it from the floor, he retreated to the table to conceal his dread. The list was covered in familiar scribbles: names and numbers that meant nothing to him but another piece in a growing puzzle of encroaching insanity. Something was very wrong.He had no idea what. “Jungkook? Are you even listening?”He shook himself from his stupor, but didn’t turn to face Taehyung. “Yeah…sorry.” The words were disjointed and awkward, like someone else controlled his mouth. He could barely understand what they meant. “Dinner will be ready in about 20 minutes. I’ll holler when it’s ready. You can get some work done if you feel up to it.”Taehyung was always looking after him, supportive and positive despite the weight of his freelance work and the extra stress of doing more than his fair share of chores.Jungkook drifted down the hall to their bedroom and collapsed face-first onto the cool sheets. He didn’t see Taehyung turn to watch him go.He thought, as he drifted off to sleep, that a voice, very softly, pleaded, “Come back.”--The morning was blisteringly bright and already hot enough to make Jungkook sweat into the collar of his starched shirt. The light reflecting from the optical shop’s sign blinded him. The children were screeching and chasing each other through the grass in front of the daycare center. The briefcase’s leather handle suffocated the skin of his fingers, making them sweat. Squinting in the bright light was dangerous. It was too easy to close his eyes completely, lean against the nearest wall, and sleep. While the weather improved, his ability to get a good night’s rest hadn’t. Taehyung’s send off this morning lingered. He ran a gentle hand over Jungkook’s cheek and down across his neck. For weeks he’d been careful around Jungkook, pulling him out of uncharacteristic lapses in attention and telling him awful jokes to put him to sleep after hours of tossing and turning. Each day his lunch bag bulged with extra clementines and cookies, one of the many ways Taehyung tried to cheer him up. He’d also become extra vigilant with the chores, taking out the recycling and trash almost obsessively and keeping every horizontal surface free of clutter.Jungkook groaned. The cool brick on his back was heavenly and the sign was at the perfect angle to block the sun. However, the clock was ticking. He’d been struggling to keep up at work recently and being late could be the final straw toward disciplinary action, a sign of failure he couldn’t bear. He went to push off from the brick, but was startled by the feeling of a doorknob under his palm. His neck wrenched as his head shot up to see the sign, the ENTER above his head, blocking the sun and casting shadows across his face and chest. “No…” he breathed. Everything became clear in one earth-shaking moment. This place. It was this building, the sign, the damning light drawing him in like a brainless moth to flame. The radio.Even as Jungkook’s mind raced with the revelation, his hand twisted the doorknob and pushed. The door silently swung open. The sunlight refused to spill inside, beaten back by the insidious orange light. He blinked.The inside of the building was cool and dim. The closed door cut off the outside heat. As his eyes roamed the shelves, what had been sprawling clutter was now neatly stacked. The floor was clear of strangely moist odds and ends and discolored puddles. The pack of mannequins sported an assortment of limbs attached haphazardly, protruding from stomachs and backs. Even the air was clearer, no longer choked by swirling motes of dust. The radio sang, plinking notes on the piano and lovingly chanting an endless serenade of names and numbers. The static was as faint as it’d ever been, letting the high, childish voice through unimpeded. Jungkook strode forward down the center aisle. Disturbing shapes twitched in their jars, drifting up against the glass walls as he walked by. Dolls, eyeless, faces crushed, and blackened, sat up on their shelf. Identical heads twisted on identical necks. Hands of fused porcelain fingers pushed at each other as they crawled.Ripples danced across the surface of a small, black pool, racing away from the tips of cold, white fingers.Mannequins scuttled, spider-like.“Jungkook,” the radio called. “Jungkook…”The counter stood tall and proud like a throne. The wood shone from a recent polish that highlighted the intricately carved flourishes and ruler-straight lines. The radio perched in the center, a king, as the number display glowed faintly with an internal light. He stopped a foot in front of the counter, unsure. The invisible aura of things alive bore down on his back, making retreat impossible. His heart should’ve been racing, pounding with the knowledge that the mannequins were right behind him, but an eerie calm smothered the reaction. The voice in the radio sighed. “Jungkook…Jungkook…”Thick, black fluid seeped from the radio’s speakers, oddly matte. It crept across the smooth surface of the counter and over, dribbling down the side to pool on the floor in heavy, splattering drops.Jungkook took the final step forward, into the puddle, and leaned toward the counter. A thick ledger lay open by the radio. The paper was stiff and yellowed with age. Names in delicate, precise cursive filled the pages in lightly inked rows.“Paul Hernan, Natalia Petrov…” Jungkook read as his eyes skimmed the list. The names were familiar somehow.An old-fashioned fountain pen rolled silently across the countertop and bumped into the ledger. The mannequins towered over him in a trembling mass, watching and waiting with their faceless heads cocked to the side and mismatched arms ready to be brought down for the final time.A porcelain doll tumbled to the floor. Its legs shattered on impact. Shards of porcelain skittered beneath the shelves. The doll dragged its body forward with featureless ceramic mitts.“Oh.”All he had to do to end this was sign the ledger. Imitating the cursive would be impossible, but surely his name would fit in with the rest. Jeon Jungkook. A clock was ticking. He could hear it. Tick, tick, tick. The mannequins heaved. The radio dripped.Tock, tock, tock.Bang, bang, bang.Something splintered.“JEON JUNGKOOK, what the FUCK are you doing?” Taehyung’s voice was jarring and out of place, blasphemy in the space that was only meant for Jungkook and the radio.As one, the mannequins turned to the sound of pounding feet. Face blotchy and red, Taehyung burst from the aisle, Jungkook’s lunch bag clutched in one hand. His eyes widened at the tableau: the disfigured mannequins, Jungkook in the center of an eerie black puddle, and the faintly glowing, faintly pulsing radio crying inky tears. Jungkook dropped the pen like it burned him.“Get out!” the radio moaned. “Get out…get out…”Taehyung lobbed the lunch bag at the nearest mannequin, which didn’t bother to move. “Jungkook!” he cried. That voice was sunlight and home, love and contentment in a way this place could never equal. Any hold that thin, childish voice had on him was gone, burned away by an infallible bond that he had no desire to resist.Jungkook tried to run to him, but the black puddle refused to release him. He toppled forward onto his knees and hands, straight into the sticky black pool. It oozed up between his fingers and soaked into his slacks. “Taehyung!” he cried, but the mannequins were already on his partner.Taehyung’s feet automatically skipped backward in terror as the monstrous mannequins stormed toward him in a swarm of unnatural limbs and smooth, menacing faces. Calling upon athleticism that hadn’t been required in years, he spun around and sprinted down the middle aisle, both relieved and terrified as the mannequins gave chase. They weren’t looming over Jungkook, but they were swift on their many feet and he couldn’t imagine what would happen if they caught him. He blindly swiped at the shelves as he zoomed by, hoping anything would slow his pursuers down. Their silence kept his ears straining for the sound of their feet and the muted thuds as they bumped into each other in the narrow space.Shards crunched beneath his shoes and his foot slid out from under him. Taehyung caught himself on a shelf, cringing at the wet warmth. He pushed up and away, completely unaware of eyes peering from the black depths and the white hand that shot toward his own, narrowly missing. The aisle came to an end all too quickly. Taehyung cut to the left in a tight turn that brought him into the next aisle. Bracing his shoulder and side against the shelf, he shoved with all his might. The wood groaned its resistance, but the shelf wobbled, lifted, and in a second where the only sound was the mannequins thumping on the other side, the whole thing toppled over. Glass shattered, splattering Taehyung’s jeans with mysterious liquids, and his pursuers screeched without mouths as they were caught in the shelf and each other, pinned to the floor, some crushed by the weight. Panting, Taehyung dashed toward the back counter and the trapped Jungkook. He’d been worried for weeks as his partner grew more haggard and forgetful, thin around the edges, and prone to strange moods. Problems at work, he’d thought. Nightmares ruining his sleep, friction with his coworkers, or finally he found himself questioning the life they’d made together. Was Jungkook unhappy with him, with their apartment, their relationship?It was and wasn’t a relief to know this unnatural, insane building was the root of the problem. All they had to do was make it out alive, together, and he’d get Jungkook back. Jungkook would have his life back. “Jungkook!” Taehyung shot from the aisle like a bullet and skidded to a sloppy stop. Jungkook was still on hands and knees in the goop, so black it more resembled a hole rather than a puddle. Not only had he not managed to escape, but disfigured porcelain dolls were frantically pawing toward him. Fountain pens lay scattered across the floor, piled up around Jungkook legs. The ledger bumped up against his left hand insistently. Gritting his teeth, Taehyung charged forward and swept the dolls away with a wild kick. Planting one foot on the meticulous pages of the ledger, he hauled at Jungkook’s arm. “Get up!” Footsteps were headed back in their direction, meaning the mannequins hadn’t been stopped for good. “I’m stuck,” Jungkook cried, tugging fruitlessly.“No, you’re not!” Taehyung yelled back. He would get his partner up through sheer force of will if he had to.The monotone voice from the radio was shaken, speaking faster and faster. Only now did Taehyung hear it. “Why not?” it keened. “Jungkook…why not…Jungkook.” The chimes jangled maniacally. The pens trembled. Ichor spewed from the speakers, drenching the front of the counter and swamping Jungkook’s hands.Taehyung wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s chest and yanked, but his hands wouldn’t pull free of the puddle. “Don’t you dare sign that,” he ordered, gesturing at the ledger with his chin. The dirty boot print across the pages was slowly melting away, leaving the pages unblemished.“Mannequins!” Jungkook called in warning.“Fuck.” They boiled from the ends of the aisles, movements stiff and angry. Some were sans limbs while others sported crumpled chests and dented heads. There were still too many. The mob bore down. Taehyung turned and vaulted over the counter. It killed him to leave Jungkook undefended, but the fucking radio had to go. The space behind the counter was strangely dark. The sound of his feet hitting the wood floor echoed hollowly for too long, the sound growing and deepening into booms as it reverberated off through an intangibly vast space. He whipped around to check on Jungkook and to his shock, both his partner and the advancing mannequins were stock-still, frozen in place like some higher power hit pause. The radio still chanted, the voice now clear as a bell. “Taehyung…Taehyung…”He exhaled harshly and wrenched the stiff brown cord protruding from the back of the radio with both hands. The plastic bit into the flesh of his palms, but the cord stayed in place. More pulling proved fruitless. “God damn it!”What else could he do? There wasn’t anything sharp on him or within reach. Taehyung lunged forward, sprawling across the countertop, completely disregarding the disgusting puddle spattered across the wood. If he changed the radio station, maybe the voice would lose its power. Gripping the knob sent the pain of a thousand tiny cuts rippling up Taehyung’ arm. He yelped, but held on and twisted the knob back as far as it would go. The needle zipped left, stopping at 88 MHz. The voice was replaced by a high-pitched electric shriek. Taehyung reflexively jerked away and clapped his hands over his ears. The mannequins changed. Instead of relentless nightmare creations, they were ghostly images of men and women, frozen, arms reaching for Jungkook. He slapped a hand at the radio, desperate to end the shrill squeal boring into his skull. The dial twisted though he was unable to see where the needle landed. The voice croaked to life, lower this time, but just as insistent.The hazy images faded, dissolving back into the disfigured mannequins.And suddenly Taehyung knew. He scrambled around the counter. Jungkook and his attackers gradually sped up as Taehyung re-entered their space. He slid in front of Jungkook and pointed at the nearest mannequin. It was simple to recall the man who’d stood there merely seconds ago. He was tall and slender with black hair and an old-style military uniform. The patch on his chest read Hernan.Taehyung leveled a finger at its featureless face and said, “Paul.”The translucent image of the military man overlaid the mannequin for a brief second before disappearing for the final time. Thin cracks spiderwebbed across the mannequin’s chest and face. Grayish green mold erupted from the crevices, crawling over the rigid surface and leaving crumbling, rotted plastic behind. As the outside fell away in uneven chunks, the creature’s interior was revealed; instead of sporting a wire frame or steel rod spine, the mannequin’s shell contained bones. In a matter of seconds, Paul Hernan was no more, his passing marked by a moldering heap on the hardwood floor. The other mannequins did not react with shock or concern that one of their own was destroyed. A mannequin missing both arms, but with a single hand protruding from the center of its chest, was his next target. It was actually “Maria,” a teenager in sweat pants and a messy ponytail. She smiled sardonically as her mannequin crumbled. The wave of plastic bodies crashed down on Taehyung and Jungkook.Taehyung was sent sprawling over his Jungkook and into the counter. The back of his head slammed into the wood causing him to bite his tongue. Brutal hands ripped at him, pulling his arms away from his body and trying to get at his neck. Jungkook was no better off. Mannequins piled on top of him, shoving his face toward the black puddle. “Keiko!” Taehyung slurred through the pain.Something heavy dropped to the ground out of his line of sight.God, what were the other names Jungkook obsessively scribbled and left lying around the house? Taehyung took special care to empty the recycling bins and tidy the house to ensure he found all of Jungkook’s odd notes. His memory couldn’t fail him now, not in the most important moment of their lives.“Christine,” Jungkook croaked. The clever bastard caught on even in an impossible situation like this. The figure of a woman, blazer fitted and hat pinned securely to her tightly curled hair, burst into view and faded.The weight on Taehyung’s left hand fell away. Growling, he kicked viciously and managed to wrench out of another pair of hands. M, there was another name that started with M.Plastic hands slithered up to his neck and crushed in. Taehyung balked, thrashing and scrabbling at them with his free hand, but they were too strong. Panic hit him hard, stealing whatever breath he had left. Squinting up as his vision went black around the edges, an image flickered. The middle-aged man with tattoos splashed across his neck and forearms looked down at him dispassionately. “M…Marc…” Taehyung rasped. The mannequin squeezed. “…-Andre…”The name was a pathetic squeak, but it was enough. Wide crevices burst across the creature’s body as it quickly disintegrated into wet earth and chunks of bone that rained down on Taehyung’s face and chest. He immediately gasped as the hands fell apart, but choked on dirt and was thrown into a coughing fit.He struggled to his feet, shoving away from a mannequin with no arms that was having trouble holding him down. His throat felt like he’d swallowed crushed glass. No. Jungkook.The horde of mannequins won.A few feet away, Jungkook lay face-down in the black pool. Hands covered the back of his head, pushing relentlessly. He no longer fought back. His body was still, limp.“Yes,” the radio sighed. The needle crept to the right as the knob turned sans touch. The speakers leaked.Something flashed behind Taehyung’s eyes and before he knew what was happening, his hands scrabbled at the radio, ripping at the sticky speakers. Agonized, he snatched one of the scattered fountain pens and stabbed through the speaker cover, ripping a hole wide enough for his fingers to jut inside. The interior was warm and wet.Taehyung braced a knee against the counter and pulled, levering with all his body weight. His fingers slipped and he stumbled. Jungkook. He refused to look down. The pen punctured the left speaker. Taehyung dropped it and shoved both hands inside. He pulled. The wood slowly cracked. The voice screamed at him, but the frenzied buzzing of panic and terror in his brain nearly blocked out the sound.The face of the radio broke away with an ugly screech. Ichor spewed from the wooden body, drenching Taehyung’s arms and chest. He plunged his hands inside again, gagging at the sensation. This was what insides felt like, human insides. He was reaching into a wound. Taehyung leaned in further and further until he was in the radio up to his shoulders even though the damn thing wasn’t more than six inches deep when seen from the outside. The voice gurgled angrily, completely unintelligible. The seconds crawled by. Jungkook was dying or dead and the mannequins would be on him any second. A hand, hard and unforgiving, clamped onto his shoulder. No! Taehyung was wrenched around, but as his arms were pulled from the radio, his fingers snagged on something slick and spongy. He dug his nails in and held on, dragging it with him.The mannequin’s face and body were smooth and unblemished and its limbs were intact. Raised seams indicated where the chest and head had been stamped out and joined together. It was fresh off the assembly line, almost glowing amongst its dirty and deranged brethren. Its hand slowly released his shoulder crept toward his neck.This creature terrified Taehyung more than anything else he’d seen in this nightmare place.It only took a second to realize why.Jungkook’s body was gone. Taehyung’s world came to a standstill. It couldn’t be.But it was.The mannequin lifted him to his toes by his t-shirt and threw him down the main aisle. Taehyung landed painfully and slid, the wind knocked out of him. Small dolls with holes for eyes turned to him, tip-tapping and scraping across the floor with their tiny malformed hands.“Jay!” he yelled.A mannequin collapsed in a rush of dirt and scampering black spiders. The rest gave chase.Taehyung struggled to his feet, realizing his right hand was still clenched around whatever he pulled from the radio. The low light made it difficult to tell what it was, but there were few things Taehyung didn’t know and even fewer he forgot. The warm, pulsing thing leaking all over his hand was a human heart, stained completely black and small enough to fit snugly in his palm. He swallowed convulsively to avoid throwing up and ran. His feet pounded down the aisle, which stretched on for far longer than it had before. Taehyung’s head throbbed, his tongue still sparked with pain every time he took a jarring step, and his whole body ached with bruises. “Natalia!” A muted crash and the sound of breaking glass echoed behind him.Taehyung scanned the shelves as he flew by. The heart had to be destroyed, but the items crammed into every conceivable nook and cranny were strange and useless: a pile of dead fish with dull fuchsia scales, scattered ash, braids of human hair, thimbles balanced upside-down and full of clear liquid, a clock with so many minute and hour hands the face was completely obscured, and a forest of chopsticks bristling from a flowerpot of dirt like the quills of a porcupine. Wait. A wild grab yielded a handful of decorated, wooden chopsticks and sent the flowerpot smashing to the ground.Without ceremony, Taehyung stabbed the chopsticks into the heart over and over again. The muscle bled black, hemorrhaging through the holes. The heartbeat slowed. The remaining mannequins tackled Taehyung the floor.The heart, skewered with chopsticks, bounced down the aisle and underneath a shelf. “John!” Taehyung yelped, wracking his mind for the final names on the list. An elderly man flickered into view. His kindly face was sad beneath his wide-brimmed hat until he too disappeared, taking his mannequin with him.A bass sound pounded through the building. Thump…thump… …thump… … … thump… Taehyung was forcibly flipped over and dragged beneath the heavy plastic bodies. The mannequins twitched at every beat as their fingers dug into the soft spaces of his neck. Thump. He couldn’t breathe.Something was screaming. Thump. A zing of electricity zipped up Taehyung’s spine. And then everything went quiet.The orange light dimmed. The mannequins paused. All Taehyung could hear was his ragged breathing.The heart was dead.Craning his neck, he followed the black trail to where the organ disappeared. Light flickered beneath the shelf, strangely bright and clean. In a matter of seconds, the legs of the shelf caught fire, the flames eagerly shooting up the sides and across to devour its contents. Amidst the shifting firelight, a small figure slowly solidified in the air.The flames leapt to an adjacent shelf, crackling gleefully. The figure blinked out of existence. “Lenay!” The other mannequin disintegrated. One remained. Taehyung desperately searched its smooth face for a hint of Jungkook. There was nothing, no sign of the man he knew so well in the featureless plastic. But he wasn’t giving up yet.“Jungkook.”This last word would bring everything to an end, one way or another. Grey smoke danced across the ceiling as more and more shelves caught fire. Glass popped in the extreme heat, while unnamed wet things sizzled. Hairline cracks spiderwebbed across the mannequin’s face and chest. It watched, confused, as the plastic of its arms rotted away. The brittle plastic outer shell sloughed off in chunks. Dirt trickled from the gaps and told Taehyung he was too late.Jungkook was nothing but dirt and bone, dead and moldering.The dirt slowed to a trickle.Strangely, the mannequin began to tear at its arms and face, stripping its skin away in sharp, frenzied movements. Instead of disintegrating into nothing, what waited beneath was healthy, smooth flesh. In a matter of minutes, Jungkook stood before him, shocked and dirty, but whole.Taehyung wept.
10279427	Leave me breathless	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Jeon Jungkook, Jung Hoseok \| J-Hope", "Fandom": "방탄소년단 \| Bangtan Boys \| BTS", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by thatbangtanhoe", "chapters": "3/3", "completed": "2017-03-24", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "5,120", "Additional Tags": "Kinks, Choking, spanking is mentioned, Eventual Smut, Anal, Top Jeon Jungkook, Bottom Jung Hoseok \| J-Hope, although they switch, lots of fluff too, First Time Blow Jobs, blood tw", "Relationship": "Jeon Jungkook/Jung Hoseok \| J-Hope", "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 }	Jungkook sighed and shifted in a more comfortable position, laying down on the entirety of the couch and switching channels. It had been a pretty uneventful day and he was just starting to realise how much of an idiot he was to look forward to a bit more free time because, as he was realising now, there was nothing to do. All the other members had gone out to their families, but his family had gone on a vacation and thus, he was left on his own. He tried calling Yugyeom, but to no avail, the boy was busy with promotions and had absolutely no time to kill with Jungkook. Just as he was starting to consider going to get a tattoo because honestly, why wouldn’t he??, the front door suddenly opened and slammed shut. “Kookie?” a familiar voice shouted. Jungkook frowned for a second, wondering why his hyung was home so early, but the frown was soon replaced by a dorky smile as soon as Hoseok entered the living room and flashed him a smile of his own. “Is everything ok, hyung?” he asked, not bothering to sit up, but still eager to hear whatever story Hoseok had to tell him. The elder nodded and crashed on the armrest of the sofa, practically making Jungkook set his head on his thigh in order to be more comfortable. “I just felt bored and my mum was trying her mighty best to force feed me one of her newest culinary creations and you know she’s not exactly the best cook”Jungkook laughed because he knew first-hand how bad of a cook Hoseok’s mother was. He shifted a bit more, rubbing the back of his head on the other boy’s thigh until the elder got the idea and tangled his fingers in his hair, playing with it gently. Jungkook sighed contently and proceeded to continue switching the channels. “Stop! Stop! I like that drama!” Hoseok suddenly burst, untangling his hand from Jungkook’s hair, to his annoyance. “No, hyung, you know I don’t like cheesy dramas, they’re the epitome of humanity, go watch it online or something!” he mumbled and Hoseok frowned. “Is that how you treat your hyungs, you brat, give me that remote control or I’m never paying for any of your meals ever again” he threatened in a deep growl, stretching in order to grab the remote that the youngest was now clutching to his chest for dear life. “Jungkook” he said one more time before completely getting off the armrest and full on tackling the boy in an attempt to snatch the remote from him. The boy, however, not only was set on the idea of not sitting through an hour of painfully cliché lines and bad acting, but saw this opportunity as a challenge to stop the boredom from literally picking at his skull. So he grinned and as quick as he could, he hid the remote behind his back, quite literally sitting on it and grabbed the other boy’s hands, trying to stop him from taking the remote from him. “This is not funny, Jungkook, you know I don’t like it when you do things like this” the other lamented, trying to untangle his wrists from Jungkook’s grip, but his attempts only made the younger of the two chuckle. This seemed to get the other off even worse and he growled once more, climbing on top of the other to get a bit more leverage and quite literally straddling his hips. Jungkook laughed and tried to wiggle in order to make the other fall off of him, but in retaliation, Hoseok squeezed his thighs even harder around Jungkook’s body, just so he didn’t fall flat on his ass. “Ok, ok hyung, I’ll just go to my room and spend the rest of the day alone, just because you wouldn’t refuse to give up on that stupid drama” the boy said, unlocking his fingers from Hoseok’s wrists and letting them fall on either side of him. That didn’t take long though, because as soon as he saw Hoseok slightly hesitating above him, he smirked once again and grabbed his nipples, twisting with moderate strength. Hoseok yelped and on instinct, grabbed one of the sofa cushions and threw it on Jungkook’s face, pushing down. That seemed to amuse the youngest even more, as he burst into a fit of laughter, sound barely muffled by the cushion. But his hands wouldn’t release Hoseok’s nipples and the latter was close to crying because it was getting both painful and frustrating. He pushed down even more, until Jungkook’s laughter turned into a quiet giggle and soon, he fell into complete silence. Hoseok would’ve thought he’d killed his band member, considering how silent he had suddenly gotten, if it wasn’t for the other’s grip on his nipples growing even more painful. So naturally, he pressed down on the cushion even harder and what happened next happened so fast it got him dizzy. As soon as he put slightly more pressure, Jungook moaned loud and deep and Hoseok felt the boy’s abdomen (which he had been sitting on) contort and tense unnaturally. He finally let go of Hoseok’s nipples and let his hand fall completely limp on his own chest.Hoseok’s eyes widened, scared shitless and quickly removed the cushion from Jungkook’s face. And that’s when the dancer almost had a heart attack on the spot. Jungkook’s face was a tint of purple, his eyes opened as wide as they could get, cheeks flushed pink, pupils dilated to the max and lips contorted in a grimace. He was about to ask the boy if he was alright but then, an aftershock hit Jungkook and he shivered underneath Hoseok, toes curling and finally starting to gasp for air, after those few seconds he had been strangled. It all became clear when the dancer moved backwards a bit in order to completely get off Jungkook, but his ass hit a wet spot on the younger’s pants and he whimpered at the contact. “Kookie?” Hoseok whispered, not daring to move any more so he didn’t cause any more discomfort to the other. “Did you… just come?” he continued whispering. That’s when it dawned on Jungkook. He let out another whimper and covered his face with his hands, shuddering as tears started flowing from his eyes down his cheeks. “No no, Kookie, it’s okay, listen to me!” Hoseok quickly said, removing Jungkook’s hands from his face and leaning down so he could kiss his reddened and damp cheeks. “It’s perfectly okay to discover these kind of things about your own body, you’re at the age to do so!” he continued, placing slow kisses on his cheeks before straightening a bit so he could look into his eyes. Jungkook felt reluctant to look into his hyung’s eyes, but as soon as he did, he felt a wave of warmth engulfing his chest, knowing full well how stupid he was to feel embarrassed by none other than the ever so understanding Jung Hoseok. The older noticed the shift in emotions on his dongsaeng’s face and that’s when he relaxed, taking his turn to smirk. He stood up and offered Jonkgook his hand, speaking clearly: “Now come on, my Kookie, I think you should take a bath, you made a whole mess of yourself. And to be fair, I need to get cleaned as well, so it just would be a shame if we didn’t take this opportunity to find what other kinks apart from choking you might have. And I found out one of yours, wouldn’t it be fair if you found out one of mine?” Jungkook’s cheeks turned from deep pink to the most beautiful red Hoseok’s ever seen, but he took the elder’s hand, looking down as he waddled towards the bathroom, letting himself be led by Hoseok. Hoseok, who had a thing for being submissive and having his ass spanked, he would find out later that day. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- First thing Jungkook noticed upon waking up was the warm body wrapped around him. He smiled and slowly opened his eyes, being blessed by the sight of Hoseok’s bare skin comfortably pressed against his just-as-naked side, long arms draped over his chest and holding on tightly. He fought the urge to brush the elder’s fringe out of his face so that he didn’t wake him up, but soon his bladder was starting to throb, begging to be emptied. He swallowed hard and gently, oh-so-gently grabbed Hoseok’s arm and lifted it carefully, moving it away from him. As soon as he managed to successfully get out of bed, he sighed in relief and sprinted towards the door. However, in his quest to reach the bathroom as quick as possible, he managed to stub his toe into the corner of the drawer and screeched in pain. Slapping a hand over his mouth, he slowly turned to face Hoseok’s figure, preparing for the elder to scold him for waking him up. To his surprise, Hoseok was still sleeping soundly, in spite of Jungkook having screamed bloody murder. However, one more thing had happened during Jungkook’s little adventure: Hoseok had switched positions to comfort the loss of Jungkook’s warmth, and was now laying belly-down, ass gloriously on display and one knee pushed up. The younger swallowed once more, body beginning to burn with a sensation he knew –but denied- was pure lust and arousal.So he did what any teenager scared of his own sexuality and urges would do: he turned around and continued his journey to the bathroom. After doing his business, he glanced at his reflexion in the mirror and tried his mighty best to calm down and usher his oncoming boner away. But to no avail. He spent a good 10 minutes pacing back and forth the bathroom, contemplating whether he should wake his hyung up and deal with this or simply just forget the idea, get dressed and make some breakfast for the two of them. He decided on the latter.Stepping out the bathroom and into the bedroom, he tried to avert his gaze from Hoseok’s sleeping figure, but he just... couldn’t! And as soon as his eyes met his hyung’s ass cheeks, he grunted and approached the bed, the idea of breakfast long forgotten. He climbed up on the bed and hovered over Hoseok, as if still trying to convince himself that what he was doing was wrong. But as soon as he leaned down and started peppering tiny and light kisses on the other boy’s spine, he knew there was no way he was backing down now. As a reaction to Jungkook’s kisses, Hoseok’s breath hitched for a couple of seconds, but went back to normal just as quick. The younger’s kisses were getting more impatient, his hands now slowly trailing Hoseok’s naked body, starting from his outer-thigh, passing the hip and onto his ribs. The second reaction Jungkook got was Hoseok shifting his position the tiniest bit, in order to accommodate the other boy’s presence lingering above him. However, still sleeping as peacefully as ever. When Jungkook stopped what he was doing in order to grab the bottle of lube from the nightstand –before he changed his mind, why was he feeling so damn conflicted-, he managed to catch sight of his hyung’s cheeks now flushed a pretty pink and he smiled, mischieviously. He coated his fingers in the thick liquid and eagerly started rubbing tiny circles around the rim of Hoseok’s hole. That’s when finally, he got a more lively response: a groan, followed by a soft whimper. Jungkook somehow managed to stop a whimper of his own, feeling himself having grown fully hard now. So he pushed the first finger in, slowly but surely. He thanked the heavens for Hoseok still being slightly stretched out from the night before and eagerly went on to press another finger in. That’s when Hoseok let out a full on moan, pressing onto Jungkook’s hand, almost on instinct.What even was this feeling? Why was he so turned on by the sight of an innocent, helpless, sleeping Hoseok? He pushed the questions away for now and pushed the third finger in, now managing to reach a bundle of nerves Jungkook had grown so familiar with in the past two months. Hoseok shuddered under him and moaned again, now definitely awake. He lifted his head from the pillow, a trail of saliva still lingering on his chin, hair messy and eyes lidded with sleep but still filled with sudden lust and he looked up at Jungkook. The sight made the younger almost lose his mind: the softness was all too much for him!!! How was this boy so soft?? So he groaned and picked up the pace, fucking Hoseok with his fingers as good as he could.“Jungkook!” Hoseok almost screamed, morning voice rough, and turning to press his face onto the pillow. But the younger couldn’t wait anymore, so after making sure his hyung was stretched enough, he coated his length in lube with his free hand and pulled his fingers out of Hoseok, only to replace them with his dick, not before grabbing the other boy’s hips and lifting them up, to make the process easier for the both of them. As soon as he was buried deep inside the elder, he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and stayed still.“Hyung, are you ok?” he whispered, trying to contain his excitement and lust. But instead of verbally answering him, Hoseok rolled his hips and Jungkook almost cried. Almost. I mean, his eyes were getting damper by the second, but he wasn’t crying damn it!! He started moving his hips steadily, almost experimentally, but Hoseok was also getting impatient, wiggling underneath him to get more friction. So Jungkook did what he thought best in order to stop the other from distracting him: he placed a big hand on the back of Hoseok’s head and pressed down, squishing the other’s face into the pillow. He then picked up the pace, feeling the familiar warmth building up inside his stomach. Embarrassingly, it didn’t take long. “Hobi hyung I’m… close” he moaned and he could hear the other boy also moaning, the sound muffled by the pillow. “What are you guys doing in there?” Namjoon’s voice came as a cold shower from outside the door, knocking hard and trying to come in, but to no success, as the door had been locked by the two since a night before. Jungkook’s eyes widened and he stopped all movement, releasing Hoseok’s head and embarrassingly preparing to get off the elder. But a new set of sweaty hands on his hips stopped him from pulling out of Hoseok and so he looked down at the other boy, in question. “Make me scream your name. Make him know I’m yours. Do it! Please, Kookie, please, make him know! Please!” Jungkook only felt conflicted for a few seconds, but the words affected him more than he’d like to admit, so he resumed his quick pace, this time grabbing Hoseok’s hips to keep him in place as he pounded into him with the force of a GOD! Hoseok was taken by surprise by his force and couldn’t control a long moan from leaving his mouth, scrunching up the bed covers into his small fists. But that was nothing compared to when Jungkook adjusted the angle and again hit that one sweet spot. “Jungkook, yes, there!” Hoseok cried, trying his best to push back onto the other boy’s dick even more, but not managing, considering the strength of Jungkook’s hands on his hips keeping him steady. “Hobi hyung, I’m…”“Me too!” the elder interrupted him, breath caught in his throat and tears running down his cheeks. “Faster Jungkook, faster!” he pleaded and Jungkook delivered, even though he didn’t think he couldn’t go any faster than he already was. They came together, Hoseok making a mess of the sheets and Jungkook filling his hyung up to a brim, before shakingly pulling out and crashing next to him, almost passed out, breathing unevenly and trying to recover his vision, now blurry. He turned his head and as soon as he saw tears staining Hoseok’s cheeks, his heart stopped for a second. He quickly reached to thumb the tears away. “Hyung I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I mean I did, but I thought you wanted it too and it was so sudden for me, I don’t know what came over me, I’m so sorry hyung…”But Hoseok just smiled and swatted Jungkook’s hands away from his face, opting to shimmy his way closer to the younger until their chests got pressed together and he buried his nose in Jungkook’s collarbone, contently sighing. “You didn’t rape me, you idiot, I liked it! That’s why I’m crying, it was a bit too much of a pleasure and I didn’t know how to deal with it, a great way to wake up actually!”Hoseok felt the other boy relaxing and wrapping his arms around him. And then he remembered Namjoon. He perked up his ears, trying to pick up any sign that their leader was still outside their door, but he couldn’t hear anything. When he remembered how turned on he had gotten upon hearing Namjoon’s voice, he smugly smiled, his lips forming a perfect shaped heart.“I didn’t know I was into voyeurism. Wait, is that even called voyeurism if I’m the one enjoying the thought of having someone know I’m being fucked so good? Hmmm, probably not… I just keep finding out things about myself with you, baby boy, it's not just you anymore” Hoseok whispered in Jungkook’s hair, pulling him away just the tiniest bit, enough to examine his now even-more flushed face. Hoseok was starting to wonder whether the other was embarrassed by his confession or by the pet name, but Jungkook’s question answered that for him:“What’s voyeurism?” Hoseok looked him in the eyes for a split of a second before bursting into laughter. A hearty laughter that shook his entire body.“Oh baby boy, you have so much to learn!” he said, wiping his tears away and pulling his dongsaeng back into his embrace, throwing a leg over his waist and gently kissing his forehead, before falling back asleep with a soft smile on his face. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The whole of Bangtan was seated in the company car, heading towards their practice rehearsals in complete silence, way too early in the morning for shenanigans even for the ones who were usually hyper. Like Hoseok, for example, who was now curled up on the backseat, head in Jungkook’s lap, sleeping peacefully. The younger was tired, but apparently not tired enough to not tangle his fingers in Hoseok’s hair and gently play with it, as he was looking down at the other boy, tracing each and every single feature with his eyes. From the long and pointed nose, to the high cheeks and lovely heart shaped lips, Jungkook was slowly beginning to understand why fans found him so attractive. In his latest established quest to explore Hoseok’s features every time Jungkook found him asleep, the boy started growing fond of silly little things, like that cute little lip mole he had. A particularly shaky bump in the road made Hoseok startle in his slumber, whimper in annoyance and bury his head even further into Jungkook’s lap. At the endearing sight, Jungkook felt heat rising inside his stomach and for a second he believed a boner would be inevitable, but that never happened. Instead, the heat seemed to intensify with each and every single tiny breath Hoseok was taking out onto Jungkook’s bare arm. Suddenly, he felt the need, the URGE to scoop up Hoseok, hold him tight to his chest and protect him from all the harm in the world. The boy was perfectly fine, having a good rest before going to rehearsals for an upcoming international tour: everything was as spiffy as it could get, but Jungkook was suddenly experiencing an unfamiliar feeling he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Namjoon’s words from a couple of weeks ago popped into his head “Are you sure you’re not in love with him?” Jungkook had laughed at the time, but suddenly he didn’t feel like laughing anymore. It was all so confusing and upsetting that it was genuinely giving him a headache. The rehearsal was not going as well as everybody was expecting. They all seemed out of it, either sleepy or unwilling to put in any effort, to the choreographer’s annoyance. “Ok, last time doing Not Today and if I’m still not satisfied with it at the end, I’ll seriously get very upset” he told everybody, frowning slightly whilst turning the music on once again. That seemed to sober everybody up as they went through at least half of the performance without any problems. That is until Jungkook caught sight of Hoseok full-on trip on something as he was rapidly stepping forward to get into his position. Everybody watched in shock as Hoseok plunged forward in an attempt to regain his balance, smashed into the mirror at full force and finally bounced back onto the ground, sudden thick blood gushing out of his nose as he was curling into a foetal position and starting to whimper. Before Jungkook even had the chance to respond to what had just happened, Jimin was already kneeling next to the boy, almost crying himself.“I’m so sorry hyung” Jimin cried. “It slipped off and I didn’t think it would affect us and I didn’t want to stop the whole performance just because I hadn’t tied my laces properly! Hyung, I’m so sorry!” Jungkook only now realised Jimin was only wearing one shoe and everything clicked in an instant: Hoseok had tripped on one of Jimin’s lost shoes. Jungkook suppressed a growl from leaving his throat and finally moved, kneeling near Hoseok and pushing Jimin out of the way.“Call an ambulance, you fucking idiot!” he said, ignoring Jin’s audible breath intake at the sudden disrespectful words. “Hobi hyung, are you ok?” he asked, gently placing a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder, who was still curled up and shaking in pain.“No, stop, don’t! Don’t call any ambulance, I’ll be fine, please don’t make a big deal out of this!” Hoseok managed to spill out in between tiny whimpers as he tried to get into a sitting position only to suddenly get dizzy and fall backwards, almost hitting the floor with the back of his head if it wasn’t for Jungkook’s reflexes catching him by the arms before he managed to hurt himself even further. “Hoseok, you might have a concussion or something, we need to get you checked out!” Yoongi sternly stated as he was dialling the emergency number and lifting the phone to his ear. Jungkook nodded in approval, sitting down properly and pulling Hoseok’s head into his lap before lifting his gaze up to Jimin who looked pale as a leaf.“Go get some tissues, can’t you see the blood?” Jungkook barked. Jimin widened his eyes now pooling in tears and turned around, heading for the backstage area. Jungkook ignored all those pairs of eyes fixated on him, opting for gently rubbing tiny circles on Hoseok’s cheeks with his thumbs. “I hope you know you’re not getting away with how you’re acting right now after this is over” Jin said, arms crossed over his chest. The day went by way too slowly for Jungkook. Hoseok was prescribed strong pain medication, after they managed to put his nose back into place, but not before completely sedating the boy, considering he was screaming in fear for nobody to touch him.When the dancer woke up, he recognized the inside of his room, but not how he had gotten there. A sharp pain hit him suddenly, starting at the base of his nose and spreading to half of his face and he groaned, but surprisingly the pain was half gone in an instant. That is when someone who had clearly been sitting in a chair next to him leaned quickly and grabbed his hand.“Hyung!” Jungkook almost cried, bringing the elder’s knuckles to his face and kissing them gently. “How are you feeling?”Hoseok smiled and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the other’s warm lips grazing his skin. “I’m fine, I told you I’ll be alright! Silly Kookie!” he laughed. And laughed. And laughed even more. “Kookie?” Hoseok asked between giggles. “What drugs am I on?”Jungkook sighed in relief, smiling upon seeing his hyung finally feel better. “Honestly hyung, I couldn’t pronounce the name even if I wanted to, but the doctor said they’re really strong and they should keep the pain away almost entirely”“Ah. Nice! Does that mean I get tomorrow off?” he asked, beginning to giggle again. Jungkook smiled even wider. “We all got tomorrow off.” he answered, leaning down to place a kiss on the corner of Hoseok’s mouth, where it had bruised a pretty purple upon the impact with the mirror. Hoseok didn’t flinch, but instead disentangled his fingers from Jungkook’s, just so he can grab the other’s back of the neck and pull him into a deeper kiss. “Hyung, you have to rest!” Jungkook protested, but Hoseok just groaned in disapproval, deepening the kiss even more. He didn’t know why he was suddenly feeling so horny, so needy. Maybe it was the medication, maybe it was just a natural reaction upon seeing the younger being so protective of him, his submissive side surfacing and begging to be taken care of. Hoseok only knew that he needed Jungkook then and there. “Kookie please!” he whimpered, his hands travelling down the younger boy’s body before landing on his perky butt and squeezing adamantly, making the other tremble in surprise.And who was Jungkook to say no to such pretty requests? He gulped hard and made a decision on the spot. He moved down quickly, before he got too embarrassed or changed his mind, stripping the elder’s lower half from all clothing. When Hoseok realized what was happening, his breath hitched. Jungkook’s never done that to him, in fact he was pretty sure Jungkook’s never done that to anybody period.“No, Jungkookie, you don’t have to, that's not what I meant, come up he…-oh my God!” his words were interrupted by Jungkook’s small lips placing one single tiny kiss on the tip of his dick. The younger looked up at Hoseok between lashes, studying each and every single expression the other was making as he was placing multiple kisses at the tip, as if making sure he was doing a good job. It was a bit difficult to tell with Hoseok’s half of the face being covered by bandages, but if the boy was to go by the tiny whimpers leaving the elder’s mouth, he’d say he was doing a good job. Without any warning, Jungkook took half of Hoseok’s length into the warmth of his mouth and hollowed his cheeks, alternating between using his tongue to flick at the tip of Hoseok’s dick and trace the veins along it. He was also getting frustratingly hard, but right now it was all about his hyung. “Kookie!” Hoseok almost yelled when Jungkook got adventurous and took more in, feeling the tip ticking the back of his throat and choking, which caused him to hollow his cheeks even more. He ignored the stinging sensation and started bobbing his head, flattening his tongue and looking up at the other boy, who was now holding onto the bedframe, head thrown back and sweat trickling at his temples. The sight of having Hoseok so fucked out made Jungkook whimper, sudden vibration finally breaking Hoseok, who was now entangling one of his hands into the younger’s hair and snapping his hips back and forth at an alarmingly fast rate.He came with the other’s name on his lips, stars dancing at the back of his lids, as he was finally letting go of Jungkook’s hair and settling back onto the pillows. “That was… the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I should break my nose more often"A soft hit in his shoulder made him open his eyes and look at other in pure adoration. “Let me take care of you now!” Hoseok quickly said, guessing how painfully hard the other must be. “No hyung, no need!” the boy murmured. “What do you mean? Come on Kookie, I broke my nose, not my hands, come here!”“Hyung, no, what I mean is… there is no need for you to take care of me!” the other continued to murmur, hiding his face in pure embarrassment. Hoseok frowned, but when he looked down and spotted a wet patch on Jungkook’s pants, he almost forgot how to breathe. “Are you seriously telling me you got off from sucking me off?” But there was no reply. Jungkook just barely shrugged and crawled next to Hoseok, placing his head on the other’s chest. “Hyung, I genuinely think I’m in love with you” Jungkook said before he could decide to back downSilence. The silence was enough for him to hear both their hearts beating in unison. His face was starting to heat up more with every second of silence, but he couldn’t dare to lift his head off of Hoseok’s chest to look at him.Just as he was starting to contemplate yelling “SIKE!!!!” and running off into the world, a pair of arms wrapped around him.“That took you a while, kiddo. That took you a while” Hoseok whispered, kissing Jungkook’s forehead and tangling their legs together. “And before you even dream about telling you that I love you too, you better: a) help clean up this mess you have made with your out-of-this-world tongue technology and b) apologize to Jimin for being a dick.” Jungkook huffed, closing his eyes and feeling the sleepiness wash over his tired body. “a) We can shower when we wake up, b) I already apologized to him multiple times and you basically already just told me you love me by telling me I’d have to wait until you told me you loved me, which implies that you already do love me” Jungkook muttered, feeling his body grow heavy, as he was drifting to sleep.Hoseok rolled his eyes but looked down at the younger, whose breathing was now even. “You’re such a little shit. But I do love you, Kookie. I do!” he whispered before he threw a blanket on top of both of them and let Jungkook’s even breathing lull him into a deep slumber of his own.
10219763	Fixed Points	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by LyzDrake", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-11T00:00:00", "words": "2,919", "Additional Tags": "Good Loki, Loki's Kids", "Relationship": "Tenth Doctor/Loki (Marvel)", "Character": "Thor", "Relationships": null, "Series": "The Doctor's Family", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Loki smiled at his lover once inside his rooms. “How was your trip?” He asked teasingly.The Doctor smiled excitedly. “It was amazing. Donna and I freed the Ood, in a future timeline.” He continued. “I don’t understand how so many beings can discriminate against others just because of race. It’s part of the reason I was so unhappy on Gallifrey. They were so xenophobic, and they didn’t even realize it. Although, I miss having a race of telepathic beings. We could feel each other through space. As long as there were two of us in the same location, we were strong enough to ensure none of the others ever felt alone in our minds. Gallifrey was in a Time nexus, so we were everywhere at once. Unless we deliberately crossed into our past, we aged normally on Gallifrey, and there was a whole planet of people in my mind. I hate being alone in my mind.”Loki smiled sadly. “I'm so sorry you're alone, Theta." He said softly. "I wish I could share my mind with you always."Theta smiled at his lover. "Only if we married." He told Loki softly. "One day, I may ask you to marry me, but I don't know if you're ready yet."Loki frowned at him and changed the subject. Marriage was a touchy topic, seeing as Loki's previous wife had offered his children, Vali and Narfi, up to Odin as sacrifices. Loki's killed her, and smuggled his children to safety. It's how he'd met the Doctor. "This is probably as good time to tell you as any, but some recent spells have made me come to suspect I may not be AEsir.”“Oh?” Theta brought his arms around Loki, holding him securely." His lover may have gotten over his xenophobia, but that doesn't mean an adopted heritage wouldn't cause identity issues.“I was practicing my weather magic, about a week ago. I summoned a blizzard, on accident, instead of rain, and for the moment I held it in my hand, before I turned it loose, I started turning blue. It crept up my skin, slowly, and as I changed color, raised lines, like ridges, came with it. The heritage lunes of a Jotun.” Loki’d overcome a lot of his own racism and xenophobia in his travels with the Doctor, but it was hard to get over the dislike Asgard ingrained in it's people for their enemies. “I think I may be Jotun.”"They call themselves the Jotnar." Theta flinched as he said so.Loki pulled back, stung. “What’s wrong? Is a monster too much for you to love?” He cried out, hurt.“No," Theta soothed. "but the timelines just started turning black.” Theta said in alarm. “Lend me your strength? Normally, it takes more than one of us to see why, but as I’m the last…”“Theta…” Loki murmured, pacified. “Of course I’ll help.”Normally, another being could not stand the time energy of a Time Lord, and thus was unable to share energy, but Loki was uniquely connected to Yggdrasil. They gathered their power, and Loki leant the strength of his magic, which was quite a lot, to the time energy of a Time Lord, as the Doctor peered into the future. He turned pale.“I see.” He withdrew his power from Loki’s, and tried not to cry in grief. “It seems that I myself have accidentally altered the intended timeline, in ways that are devastating for the future of the universe. You see, humans will eventually venture into space. In fact, they become the most influential race of all time, with Time Agents in the 51st century, and one of the reasons they do so is because they have a group of strong protectors, the Avengers, who are just starting to show up now, and continue on well into the 31st century before they are no longer needed. It seems that you were a catalyst for their formation in the 21st century. You sabotaged Thor’s coronation, which is in two weeks, and discovered your origins. Because you never knew me, you reacted poorly. Odin fell into Odin sleep, Thor was banished for attempting to bring war upon the Jotnar, and Frigga was too occupied with Odin to see you struggle to hold it together. His sleep was abnormal, due to him being close to the end of his natural life cycle. The Warriors Three and Six commit treason, and you send the Destroyer after them. It all came to a head when you fell off the Bifrost after attempting to destroy Jotunheim, and were captured by Thanos. He forced you to try to take over Midgard, and you decided to thwart him with the limited autonomy you had over your brain by bringing the team of heroes together and purposely having a bad plan. Even then, they almost loose. You’re the reason humans make it into space, and I don’t know if I can bear to let any of that happen to you.”“You once told me that the universe was dependent on the humans for continued existence.” Loki said neutrally. Theta knew him well enough to know he was disturbed.Theta pulled his lover down onto the bed with him, and buried his face in Loki’s chest. “They are the most instrumental race in the history of the universe.” He whispered hoarsely. "And yet, I can't bear to watch you suffer."“Theta.” Loki whispered softly. “We’re going to have to do something. Maybe you should wipe my mind of all that I've learned with you, all my failures and successes, and that my children are alive.”“Please, don’t…” Theta whispered back. “We have to. The fate of the universe depends on a year of torture by Thanos himself, and my destabilization on the throne of Asgard.” Loki’s voice quivered. “Luckily, I may be Jotun, but inside, I am a warrior of Asgard. I can stand it, especially if I don't know what I am missing.”Theta nodded. “There may be an… alternate way. Rather than the torture and a mind wipe. Should you be pregnant, when Thanos has you, he’ll simply keep your child. You’ll cave to his brainwashing more quickly, but the timing will be about the same. I can steal the child before I break your mind control.” His voice broke as he presented the only other option he’d seen.“I didn’t know how to control my pregnancies before,” Loki said almost too calmly. “but now I know I am Jotun. We could induce a heat, and the child would mostly be a Time Lord. I know how to hold my changeling shape now, and how to pass down certain genetics.”They were silent as they thought about what they might have to do. “I feel like dirt for even considering this.” The Doctor whispered to his lover. Loki smiled sadly. “Theta, I’m afraid.”Theta simply held him tightly. “Tomorrow then? A bit of time in the TARDIS to induce heat, and to arrange the Jotuns crashing Thor’s coronation?”“Yes. Can we do something about the Casket? It belongs to them. It’s the heart of their world. Odin is cruel for keeping it from them.” Loki asked curiously. “You drop it when you fall. Originally, it's lost to the Void, but it's not a fixed point.” Theta replied. “I will catch it, and steal your children from Odin. There are some places I know of, where they’ll be safe. Gallifrey may have perished, but there is a place. I’ve hesitated to go there, but for your children. . .”Loki kissed Theta hard. “I love you.”Theta kissed him back, pulling away his mental barriers and letting Loki into his head. “Let’s get married. I was wrong. You are ready to be married to a Time Lord. We can do it, and spend your heat together, and then after this awful time, we can live together with your children, on Tiyunides. It’s a planet with a nexus of Temporal energy, so only races with temporal sensitivity can reach it, but if you marry me, your magic will blend with my temporal power, so you can reach it, and I can gift your children with the ability to stay there. It's where I've hidden Vali and Narfi.”“Okay.” Loki grinned. “Let’s get married.”They got married on Darillum, and spent a night there, which for them, was twenty four years. They were careful not to get Loki pregnant until just before it was time to return to Asgard. Loki experimented with his Jotnar form, where they discovered his heritage. The lost child, Loptr, Theta informed his husband. They made a quick stop at Jotunheim, where Loki met the King, Laufey. "I am Loki," He said softly as he let the blue ripple over his skin, "although my husband tells me that these markings proclaim me to be Loptr, the lost child of Farubati."Laufey rushed forward to hug his child. "My child!" He cried in joy. Theta came forward. "I'm afraid there's a problem." He said softly. "You see, you die, about three weeks from now. It's a fixed point. Loki lures you to Asgard, in order to prove his loyalty to Odin, and kills you in his bed chamber. Then he attempts to destroy Jotunheim. We can warn you what area to clear, so you don't have losses. Your son, Helbilindi, makes a fine King, and Loki will visit, now and again. We'll be raising our children on a time nexus, where Odin cannot reach them."Laufey cleared his face. "Then I will have one incredible night with my child, for my Farubati died long ago, and in three weeks, I will die in battle, and meet my child one day in the future, in Valhalla. Loki, please aim for the palace, when you attempt to destroy Jotunheim. It has the most protections, and is the easiest to evacuate. Helbilindi will make a fine King, and his palace will not old the air of defeat this one has held for so long."Father and son cried together for a bit, and Theta left them to it. They had dinner, and Laufey detailed his plan to send two of the guards that were least likely to follow Helbilindi after his death, to fetch the Casket. When they died, it would be no loss. Loki was unprepared for the amount of betrayal he felt due to Odin's actions. He even got him to admit that he'd harmed his children due to their Jotun blood. It wasn't hard to fake going off the rails. His true father's death was devastating, so it wasn't hard to lose to Thor, and go over the side. Just for a moment, he saw his husband's blue box as That reached out and plucked the Casket of Ancient Winters from it's fall. Thanos plucked him from his never ending spiral through the void, and the Other practiced his tortures until it became evident that Loki was with child.Loki cried out in pain as he birthed his child, cold and aching, suffering from the torment Thanos had put him through. If this is what Theta considered better, then the alternative must have been horrifying. It was a boy, that much he knew. They’d even decided on a name. He took after his Sire, so they decided on Gallifreyan tradition in naming. Drorvithigluriam. They’d call him Riam until he was old enough to choose a name or title. He held his child close as Thanos approached with the mind gem. He knew what would happen, and he wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. At least his son would be safe, stolen away as soon as Loki made it to Earth. The blue fog curled into his mind. What was he thinking again? All hail Thanos, lover of Lady Death.First, He rescued Sleipnir. He was closest to Odin, and would be the hardest to get to if Odin were accidentally alerted. "Hello, Child." He greeted the horse, as he used his combined magic and temporal energy to unweave Odin's spell. He simply aged the spell until it was weak, and then snapped it with Loki's magic. Sleipnir formed as he had been when he was taken, around the human age of six. "You belong to my mother." The child said solemnly. Theta nodded. "I am your mother's husband. I would be pleased to call you my child. Now come, you are the builder's child, are you not? Let us fix the TARDIS, and rebuild her into a suitable home for us all until we are ready to settle down."The rescue of Fenris went easily, and Jorgumand was happy to leave, but Hela refused to go with her step-father."I am Queen of this realm. Odin cannot harm me here, and until I train a suitable successor, I will not leave. Take father my best wishes, and take care of my siblings."Vali, Loki's daughter by Sigyn, and her twin, Loki's son Narfi, were picked up from Tiyunides, and they fixed the chameleon circuit, rearranged all the rooms, updated the library, aged to a good age and softened memories, and upgraded the security. Theta snuck into Thanos’s lair, and snuck out with his son. The TARDIS had not played around with him this time. She took him to exactly when he needed to be. His son was a ray of temporal energy, and it felt amazing to have another Gallifreyan in his mind again, even his son. “Hello Riam.” He whispered to the sleeping baby. “I’m your Sire.”He gazed at the child for a few moments, before venturing deeper into the TARDIS after entering the time stream. He’d float here while he dealt with a few things, like baby proofing, and planning to rescue his step-children.Sleipnir held onto his baby brother. Riam was adorable. He glanced over at his other siblings. All except Hela had agreed to come with their new stepfather, the Doctor. Family called him Theta, he insisted. Theta was incredible. He honestly loved them, and he’d somehow been able to unwind the enchantments around them. He explained it away as part Loki’s magic, part temporal manipulation. They were physically around the age they’d been when they’d been taken, more or less. They’d asked him to age them a few years, to about ten, and soften the memories from Odin’s “punishments”. Suddenly, the TARDIS landed. It was time to save his Carrier from Thanos. Theta exited the door, but turned. “Stay here. I don’t know if we’ll need to make a fast getaway.”“Yes, papa.” They chorused. Theta stepped away from the TARDIS, the door closing behind him. He’d finally fixed the chameleon circuit and installed security on the TARDIS. He took his family seriously. He appeared to be in the top floors of Stark tower. He ventured forward towards the sounds of fighting, to find Loki and Thor fighting against each other. He sent a wave of magic, not nearly as strong as Loki’s, towards them, and Loki dropped like a rock for a moment. It was all he needed. He approached, ignoring Thor, and placed his hands on his husband’s temple. It was a bit more difficult than expected, but he broke the connection to the mind gem and wiped away any residual from his mind. Loki opened his eyes. “Riam?” He asked urgently. Theta kissed his husband. “Safe.”Thor came up behind them, angry. “What is going on here? Loki, stop this madness.”Loki glanced at him, eyes a vivid green, before turning back to Theta. “I had enough autonomy to instruct the human scientist to build a failsafe into the portal. It was supposed to be in case the machine malfunctioned, but if an enterprising superhero exploited it to stop Thanos, that would be just too bad.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “My love, perhaps you will do the honors?” Theta suggested. “After all, the time stream is now safe should you switch sides.”Loki picked up his staff and teleported without another word.Thor looked confused. “His eyes have changed. Was he under the control of another? And who are you?”“I’m the Doctor!” Theta said energetically. “I’m also Loki’s husband, according to the laws of many planets. He was indeed under the influence of the mind gem, and the power bled through into his eyes.”Thor frowned. “His husband?”Theta stiffened. “Yes, your intersex Jotnar brother married a mostly male being. Is that a problem?”Thor shook his head and leaned in closely. “Should my brother bear any children, take them and run. Odin has harmed all of my nieces and nephews and I can stand it no longer. As you are hopefully of a race removed enough to claim sanctuary under the Shadow Proclamation…”“I helped write the Shadow Proclamation.” Theta assured Thor. “I am one of the last Gallifreyan. As such, I have claimed the last hidden planet of my people as home, and Loki and all his children are protected. Heimdall cannot see me.”Thor slumped in relief as Loki returned. “Congratulation, brother, on your marriage. I will take care of SHIELD. Take the tesseract and the staff to the new Gallifreyan planet and hide them there. Hopefully, you will send someone for me soon, that I may meet your family properly. I assume your husband has rescued my nieces and nephews?”“Aye.” Loki embraced his brother. “We’ll come for you soon-ish. Time’s a bit flexible, with the Time Lord’s.”
10246871	love is mystical love	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Julia Burnsides, Magnus Burnsides, Carey Fangbattle, Killian (The Adventure Zone)", "Fandom": "The Adventure Zone (Podcast)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by starrydreams", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "1,515", "Additional Tags": "julia lives au, shes magnus's awesome wife n fought to see him, lightly mentioned carey/killian, implied Taako/Kravitz", "Relationship": "Julia Burnsides/Magnus Burnsides", "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 }	She wasn’t exactly sure how she came back. She thought she remembered someone had showed her a bit of magic when she was younger, no older than 10. A silly human wizard came into the shop one day. He said he had just moved into town and wanted to buy some furniture for his new home. He was very welcoming, and offered to give her a few magic lessons, if she wanted. She went to a few, learning the basics before deciding magic wasn’t really her forte. The man was understanding, not everyone was built for magic. It was a special art. He still allowed her to come over for lunch if she was ever hungry. He made an amazing, magical apple pie. It couldn’t have been that little magic inside of her that brought her back. She didn’t have enough knowledge to cast any spell that could break her out. She didn’t even remember casting a spell in the first place. What she did remember was an incredible heat, and the whitest light she had ever seen. She remembered a sudden coldness. She remembered her soul feeling like it was shifting somewhere else, like someone was guiding her out of the realm she lived in. Then, she remembered the astral plane. She remembered being dead. Her name was Julia Burnsides, daughter of Steven Waxman. Wife to Magnus Burnsides. She was alive. She needed to find Magnus. Julia found herself waking up in the middle of the forest, her dress burnt in places, and her boots scoffed, but otherwise fine. She stood up, testing her limbs to see if they worked. Both her arms and legs moved properly, as well as her hands, fingers, feet, and toes. Her head turned side to side. She could breathe and blink. She could walk, and she could run. She could definitely run. She ran past bushes and flowers, a few bunnies, deer, and half a million trees. She ran past a river that spilled into a lake, a dark cave, and a weirdly shaped rock formation. She only slowed when she found a rather bustling city, surprised that one was so close to a forest. Weren’t there usually farming towns around the woods? Sure, the city wasn’t gigantic, but she expected to run into a farmer with a large plot of land and corn long before she stumbled upon a city. Though, she was far from complaining. Maybe she could ask around if anyone knew Magnus. Maybe she could get a new dress… She stepped into the first general store she could find. She weaved between customers, to a small clothing section in the corner. There were no dresses, but an assortment of hooded cloaks. Julia shrugged, grabbing the first one she saw, which was colored a bright red. She figured it was the next best thing, until she could get herself a real change of clothes. The only issue was paying for it. She, unfortunately, hadn’t come back with any money. Maybe the shopkeeper would accept an IOU? Julia made her way over to the counter, where a middle-aged man stood, sweeping the floor around him. He looked up when she set the cloak down on the wooden counter, and a warm smile spread across his lips. He leaned the broom against the wall before turning to her. “Hello, miss. How may I help you?” “I wanted to buy this cloak, but… I don’t have money on me at the moment. And I was wondering if you knew anyone by the name of Magnus Burnsides?” The shopkeeper opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, someone else spoke behind her. “Did you say Magnus Burnsides?” The voice asked. When Julia turned around, she saw the owner of the voice; a slight dragonborn woman. Beside her stood a female orc, who appeared to be holding hands with her. “I did. Do you know him?” “I’m one of his friends! The name’s Carey. This is my girlfriend, Killian.” Carey motioned to Killian, who waved in reply. “Who are you?” “Julia. I was really close to Magnus before I um… Got into an accident. Do you know where I can find him?” “Uh, yeah! We work together. We can take you to him, if you’d like.” “That would be amazing. I really need to-” The shopkeeper cleared his throat, causing the three women to look at him. “Do you still want to buy this?” He asked, Julia working on some excuse to pay him back later. Killian moved forward, and set down a small stack of gold coins on the counter. “Any friend of Magnus is a friend of ours. Besides, it looks like you’ve been through hell.” She said, handing her the cloak. “You have no idea.” Carey and Killian answered every question that Julia asked, albeit selectively. It was, apparently, some secret stuff. She learned that they worked for a place called The Bureau of Balance that was, strangely, located on the moon, and Magnus helped reclaim artifacts that could destroy the world with two of his other friends. Julia felt her heart swell when she was told that he prevented the world from entering chaos. She was glad that Magnus was still going things to help people. Heck, he was saving the world! How could you not be proud of that? She was glad that he had friends he could count on, too. It must’ve been hard for him after he found out that Raven’s Roost had been destroyed. She couldn’t imagine what it must been like to come home to his town being bombed. She hoped he was doing okay. That’s all she wanted. It was a bit of a hassle to get Julia into the Bureau, an added difficulty due to the red cloak around her shoulders, and the hood pulled up to hide her face. However, thanks to Carey’s awesome rogue skills, they were able to sneak her in and up to Magnus’s dorm. When they reached the room, the couple allowed Julia to be alone, despite Carey’s small protests. (She was still a stranger, and could be a spy. Julia understood this.) Though, Killian figured that this was a private matter, and they retreated to their own room. Magnus could take care of himself. Julia stood in front of the door to Magnus’s room, barely breathing. This was what she waited for what felt like eternity to do. She was able to reunite with her husband. With a deep breath, she raised her hand, and knocked on the door. “Merle if that’s you-- I told you I would not go to the beach with you!” Magnus called out as he walked to the door. Julia had to hold back a snicker. When he did open the door, he looked shocked, then defensive. He moved to grab something she wasn’t able to see “Red robe? How did you get in here?” “Magnus! It’s me!” Julia said quickly, lowering the hood. “I just got this cloak at a general store. You friend Killian got it for me.” “Julia?” He whispered, eyes wide. Magnus dropped whatever weapon he had been holding, and scooped her up in the biggest bear hug she had ever received. She grabbed him by the collar, and pressed her lips against his in a longing kiss. He set her back down on the floor in favor of wrapping his arms around her waist. The two kissed until they needed air, too soon for either of their liking. When they pulled away, Magnus rested his forehead on hers, and spoke again. “How are you here?” “I’m not sure.” “What do you mean you’re not sure?” “I mean, one second I was dead, and the next I woke up in a forest. Can we figure out the reasoning later? I really missed you.” “I missed you too.” Magnus brought her inside his room, shutting the door behind him. Julia grinned as she sat down on his bed, and she couldn’t help but tackle him with kisses as soon as he sat down beside her. The first question she asked him was about the competition that he left to go on, and if he won or not. Then, she begged to hear all about his quests. After being told by Carey and Killian that they were life-saving, she just had to know about them. He told her all about the items that they managed to reclaim so far, and what they still needed to find. He talked about Carey, Killian Merle and Taako, and how they’d probably hear from Taako’s boyfriend later. (Magnus had even called Carey over his Stone of Far Speech, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.) They shifted positions several times as he caught her up to speed with everything that was happening. By the time Magnus had finished talking, he laid on the bed with his head in Julia’s lap as she absentmindedly played with his hair. Both were smiling so much their cheeks hurt, so happy to be reunited. “I love you, Jules.” “I love you too, Magnus.”
10230278	I Wont Give Up	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Aaron Dingle, Robert Sugden, Liv Flaherty, Victoria Barton, Adam Barton", "Fandom": "Emmerdale", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Not Rated", "author": "by supercali", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "3,125", "Additional Tags": "Angst, Talk of Prison, Mentions of Gordon, Mentions of Aaron's abuse, Song fic", "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 }	When I look into your eyes It's like watching the night sky Or a beautiful sunrise There's so much they hold And just like them old stars I see that you've come so far To be right where you are How old is your soul?Robert used to love watching Aaron sleep, would spend hours just watching. It started as a way of keeping the nightmares away, ready to wake him, but now he loved how relaxed he always looked in sleep, so young and untroubled. He’d start off on his side, usually with an arm or leg slung over Robert but in the middle of the night he’d end up sprawled on his front, arms hugging his pillow, one leg hanging outside the bedcovers whether it was the middle of winter or the heat of summer.He’d give just about anything to see that now. Anything but the scared, shaken man lying next to him.It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it. Robert had known for weeks that something had happened but they could hardly talk about it across a table with God knows who listening. He'd thought once Aaron was home they'd be alright; they could talk and then start their married life properly. He'd known he was being naïve, really, but even he hadn't expected this.Within a week of getting home, Aaron had upset pretty much everyone. The worst of all being Liv, telling her she would be better off with Sandra. He'd even gone so far as to book the flight before Robert could stop him, it had ended with him telling Aaron to leave, all the while holding a frightened and near hysterical Liv. After promising she wasn't going anywhere he'd despatched her to the pub for a few nights before he’d gone looking for Aaron.Well I won't give up on us, even if the skies get rough I'm giving you all my love, I'm still looking up And when you're needing your space, to do some navigating I'll be here patiently waiting, to see what you find“Just go, Robert.” Aaron’s voice is flat, emotionless and it hurts more than Robert wants to admit. He’d rather he was shouting, crying even, but this empty shell in front of him is making him the most scared he’s ever been.“Aaron, come on, this isn’t the answer. I’m trying to help you!” He'd found him on the bridge that night, right where he expected. He'd said nothing just told Aaron to come home. They’d spent the night and the following day in silence before Robert cracked and tried to get him to open up about what was bothering him and now Aaron was insisting he leave.“You can’t help me, nobody can! I’m broken Robert. Maybe that’s how it should be; maybe you were right that day in the scrapyard. I’m a failure. I ruin everything, but I’m not going to ruin you, so please, just go.” Robert doesn’t know what to say, what to do. He’s never regretted anything more than that day in the scrapyard and he hated that he had contributed in some way to how Aaron felt.“You’re not going to ruin me, you couldn’t! I won’t let you throw everything we are away. After everything we’ve been through, I won’t let you do it.” Robert’s voice cracks, his hands are shaking. “You don’t mean any of this. I know you, remember? Let’s just talk, please!”“I can’t. You want the Aaron who was here before, the Aaron you married.” He huffs a laugh, “We couldn’t even do that properly, could we? A few words in a garage don’t mean anything, Robert!” Robert feels those words like a knife to his heart. He tries to tell himself that Aaron doesn’t mean that, not really, he’s just trying to hurt him, to make him leave. It still hurts. “Whoever he was, whatever we were, it’s gone.”“So our vows meant nothing to you? I know you don’t mean that. This is what you do; you’ll push me away and keep pushing. I’m not going to stand by again and watch you do this. We’ll get help, we’ll talk, we’ll fight, whatever it takes but you’re not going to get me to give up, however hard you try.”“Robert...please, go.” With that Aaron turns and walks away, into the kitchen that Robert picked for them, one without stark white cabinets, one where the doors had handles. He knows Aaron well enough that he won’t get anywhere tonight, so he’ll go, but he’s not leaving Aaron alone.'Cause even the stars they burn Some even fall to the earth We've got a lot to learn God knows we're worth it No, I won't give up“Adam’s with him.” Vic tells him as she hands him a mug of tea. She hadn’t even looked surprised to find him on her doorstep. Adam, as Robert knew he would when he asked, had gone to be with Aaron.“What do I do, Vic? He won’t talk to me. How can I help him if he won’t even tell me what he needs?” Robert doesn’t like not knowing things. He knows something happened to Aaron in prison and his mind has conjured up all sorts, things he doesn’t want to think about, things that he hoped he wouldn’t have to hear ever again. All he really knows is, not knowing is worse than actually hearing what’s wrong.“It’s only been a week, Robert; you’ve got to give him time.”“How long do I wait? Until he cuts himself again, or do I wait until he’s dying, like last time? I can’t go through that again, Vic.” He lets her put her arms around him, knows it helps her to feel she’s comforting him. “I tried...the wedding and everything, I tried so hard.” He fights the tears; he doesn’t want to cry on his little sister’s shoulder. “He just...threw it back in my face. I thought it meant something!”“It does! I’ve not seen Aaron as happy as he was that day. Come on, Rob, he knows how to get to you, just like you do him. Just stay here tonight, try again tomorrow. Adam won’t let him do anything stupid.”She makes up the spare bed for him, but he ends up on the sofa, wide awake just like most nights.I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use The tools and gifts we got yeah, we got a lot at stakeIt’s barely eight in the morning when Robert knocks on the door. He could use his key but he wants all of this to be Aaron’s choice. Adam opens the door and it’s obvious he didn’t get any more sleep than Robert did.“How is he?”“Tired, angry but he won’t talk to me, just wandered around all night.” Robert wants to ask but can’t get his voice to form the words. Luckily Adam knows him well enough by now. “He hasn’t done anything, that much he did tell me.”Robert nods, steeling himself to go inside. He watches as Adam goes home to his wife, to his pretty perfect marriage and Robert hates that for a moment he’s consumed by jealousy. He loves Aaron, more than he can put into words, but sometimes he’s so tired of struggling, of having to fight for every single moment of happiness.“You coming in then, or what?”“Am I allowed?” He hears Aaron sigh but he doesn’t say anything more so Robert heads inside and closes the door. Aaron’s sat on the stairs and it makes him smile, despite everything.“So...”“I want to help you or I at least want to try, but you have got to let me in Aaron. I have no idea what it’s like in prison, no idea what it was like for you but I can tell you what I’m imagining and it’s killing me.” He perches on the step below Aaron, folding his long legs underneath him. “I’m not walking away, no matter how hard you push, no matter what you tell me. Please Aaron.”“They didn’t...it wasn’t,” Robert feels like he can breathe again and he nods, so Aaron doesn’t have to say it.“But something happened. Was it...was it what I did?”“He would have found out anyway. I stopped him winding up another bloke before you even visited; think he had his suspicions then. Don’t ever feel guilty about wanting to touch me, please.”“Will you tell me, what happened? I know it won’t fix it, won’t make it go away but it might help, a bit at least.” He reaches for Aaron’s hand, relieved when he doesn’t pull away. “I’m your husband, Aaron, legal or not, I’m supposed to share your burdens.”“I didn’t mean that. What I said last night. That was the best day of my life and it was perfect.” Robert looks down at the ground. He’d known Aaron was just lashing out but it had hurt. “See this is what I mean, I’m hurting you. Feels like that’s all I do, just ruin everything, your proposal, I nearly ruined the house, my birthday and then I get sent to prison. You’d be better off without me. Maybe we should both just admit it.”“No we’re not doing this again. You think I’m better off without you? Really? If I am, why did I spend every night while you were away on the sofa at the pub or here? I can’t function without you. I shouted at Vic, Adam, and Liv a couple of times. I need you! And you didn’t ruin anything. We got engaged, we got the house and I definitely recall enjoying your birthday quite a lot. We’re never going to be perfect, Aaron, but who is?”“And prison?”Robert swallowed, “Plenty of people round here have done worse, me included. I have to take some of the blame for that...you might have hit Kasim but I wound you up enough that you were in a state. It’s done now, ok? I told you, you’d come home to me and we’ll never look back.”“It’s not that easy.”“It can be. We just need to make a start.” And in the end, you're still my friend at least we did intend For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not and who I am They’ve moved into the sitting room, sat at either end of their new sofa, both clutching mugs of tea. Robert kind of wishes he had something stronger, thinks he might need it to get through what Aaron tells him but tea would do for now.“Might have been alright in there you know. I could have handled the homophobic idiots, got a few bruises. Wouldn’t have been the first time I was beaten up.” Robert opens his mouth but Aaron stops him. “It’s not your fault, Robert, I told you.”“So what changed?”“They found out who I am.” Robert frowns, doesn’t understand. “They found out I’m a Livesy.”Robert feels sick, just the name enough to turn his stomach. Then he realises what Aaron actually said.“You’re a Dingle now, or even a Sugden.” It’s probably not the best time for levity but it raises a small smile from Aaron so that’s something. “You’re not a Livesy anymore.”“Aren’t I?” “No!” That sick feeling isn’t going anywhere and he sets his mug down on the coffee table, turns to face Aaron, gives him his full attention. “How did they find out?”“Someone remembered me from when I was on remand for...” he gestures towards Robert’s chest. “Told them I’m a Livesy.”“Was, Aaron.” Robert had been happy that Aaron was in a place that was so close, that he and Liv could see him. It hadn’t even occurred to him that it was the same place that he had been in, that someone might make the connection. Now he wants to hit something. “Not anymore. You’re a Dingle. I will say it every day if I have to.”“Doesn't change the fact that he's part of me. He's always gonna be there.”Robert doesn't know what to say because of course he's always going to be there, it's not like Aaron can forget what he did, however much they both wish he could. This is something different though.“Will you tell me what happened?” He watches as Aaron shrinks back into the sofa, clutches his knees, hands covered by his sweater. Robert wants to hold him and never let go but he knows Aaron won't want that now so he just waits.I won't give up on us, even if the skies get rough I'm giving you all my love I'm still looking up, still looking up.Robert leans on the kitchen counter, trying to push back the bile from his throat. He'd listened silently as Aaron told him everything. All they'd done, all they'd said, every sickening, disgusting moment in that cell. Robert didn't use his fists to get back at people, words were much more effective, but right now he wanted to hit someone or something and never stop.“Rob?” Aaron's voice is hoarse, small and when Robert turns he's standing in the doorway, cheeks and eyes red from crying, sleeves pulled even tighter if that's possible, over his hands.“Hey. Tea won't be a minute.” He looks at the kettle realises he hasn't even switched it on. He does it now, busies himself finding tea bags, anything to distract his mind for a second.“I’m sorry.”“Come here,” Without hesitating Aaron comes over and Robert pulls him into a hug, feels Aaron’s hands clutching at his shoulders. “I know why you didn’t but I wish you’d told me before.”“What could you have done?” Aaron’s voice is muffled against Robert’s shoulder but he’s not letting him go, not for a second.“I...” He can’t answer and isn’t that the worst thing, to know just how helpless he would have been, powerless to help, that Aaron would have been just as alone even if he had told Robert everything. “I don’t know, but at least I’d have known.”“I thought I'd…not got rid of him, he's always going to be there…but I'd dealt with it enough and now he's back, he's in my head.”“Listen to me, we got through it before, we can do it again. It's not going to be easy but you’re home now, you’re safe.” It’s not that simple he knows that but Aaron’s still shaking so he’ll say anything to get him to calm down.“I didn’t mean any of that...last night. You know that, right?”“Course I do. I’m not going to say it didn’t hurt to hear it but I’ve told you, I know you. I won’t let you push me away. Messed up forever, remember?” He feels Aaron nod against him. “Maybe you should talk to someone. I’ll listen, I’ll always listen but I’m way out of my depth and I’m terrified I’ll come home one day to find you like I did last year.” Aaron shrugs and Robert considers it better than an outright refusal. “Just think about it.”“Maybe. I’m not promising anything.” Robert just rubs his hand over Aaron’s back, the shaking slowly easing.I won't give up on us God knows I'm tough enough We've got a lot to learn God knows we're worth itReluctantly, Robert follows him into the pub later that evening. By the time they’d finished talking it was getting dark but Aaron insisted on seeing Liv to apologise. Robert had offered to fetch her, but Aaron had said no. Who knows maybe being among other people might help. He didn’t think Aaron had left the house in the week he’d been home, so it couldn’t hurt.Thankfully the pub is pretty empty and he smiles at Vic behind the bar. Adam is already next to Aaron, the pair of them never stay apart for long. Aaron’s smiling which is a good thing. It isn’t quite reaching his eyes yet but it’s something. He watches as they hug and then Aaron signals that he’s going into the back room to talk to his sister. He’d already asked Robert to let them talk alone for a bit.“Here you go.” His sister puts a glass of whisky in front of him.“Do I look that bad?” He catches her hand as she turns away. “Thanks Vic.”“Is he alright?”“Not really.” She knows him well enough, leaves him alone, goes to talk to Adam. He wonders how long to give it before he seeks out Aaron and Liv. He feels wrung out, wants to sink into a chair or a bed and never get up but he knows he can’t, has to stay strong for all of them.He sits there for a good twenty minutes, no one coming close to talking to him such is the vibe he’s giving off, before he sees Aaron and Liv coming towards him. Aaron looks better, less tense. He’s still not his usual Aaron, maybe he won’t be again, because honestly how much can one man take, but it’s a start.“So...” he asks Liv.“I’m going to go and stay with Mum,” At his horrified look she continues, “Just for a couple of weeks over the holidays. Aaron said he needed to sort some stuff.”“Are you sure? I know it wasn’t easy last time. We can figure something out.” He looks at Aaron, he’s his main priority but he hasn’t forgotten what Liv said about her last visit to Sandra’s.“No it’s fine.” She moves closer to him and leans down, sensing she doesn’t want Aaron to hear. “You’ll look after him, won’t you?” He nods, that lump in his throat is back. “Right, are you two taking me home then, or what?”She wanders on ahead of them as they walk home. He feels lighter than he did an hour ago and even more so when Aaron reaches out and takes his hand. He stops, checks Liv’s not watching and dips his head to place a kiss on Aaron’s lips.“Don’t give up on me.” He hears as he pulls away.“Never.”I won't give up on us, even if the skies get rough I'm giving you all my love, I'm still looking up
10269239	The Unexpected Contract	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Kallo Jath, Female Ryder (Mass Effect), Sara Ryder", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by Cowoline", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "1,459", "Additional Tags": "Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Romance, Friendship/Love", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Kallo Jath/Female Ryder, Sara Ryder/Kallo Jath", "Series": "The unexpected revelations of Kallo Jath and Sara Ryder", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Kallo was sitting in their apartment on the Nexus. They didn’t spent much time there. There was still so much to do with establishing the colonies and so on - even after two years. Yet, Sara always made sure that they had business enough to be at the station for weeks at a time, so their crew could get some much needed rest and relaxation. He almost huffed at the thought, as he was anything but relaxed. In front of him on the coffee table was a datapad he attempted not to look at. The information on that pad had reached him after 600 years. He knew of it and had expected it, but somehow it seemed inconvenient to him when it finally arrived. He remembered perfectly what it said of course, yet he could not quite ignore it. When the door opened and Sara entered he nearly jumped. “Well, aren’t you jumpy today. Everything alright?” she asked as she hung up her jacket and walked over to him. “Everything is fine,” he lied and she kissed his cheek before walking over to the kitchen area to get some coffee. “Actually, there is something we will have to discuss,” he stated calmly - at least he tried. She turned and gave him a curious look, but she seemed to get the meaning quickly enough. “I guess I need to sit down for this,” she replied and he merely nodded. Calmly she walked over and sat down next to him. He released a deep sigh and took the coffee out of her hand and placed it on the table. He then took both her hands in his and the look she gave him clearly showed how rare this situation was. “Kallo, what is going on?” she did not raise her voice, but she was obviously alarmed. “I… You know I love you, right,” his voice was wavering. “Of course I do,” she stroked his cheek as she said the next part,“I love you too. Now, please tell me what’s wrong,” The sudden patience and kindness in her voice made him relax a little. “Well, before we went to Andromeda the Salarian Dalartrasses saw to how we would establish our new colony. Agreements were made between the clans and mating contracts established,” he began to explain. “Oh, I see,” Sara replied with instant understanding and reached for the datapad, “May I?” “Of course,” She picked it up and began looking at it. “This is yours I take it,” she said calmly and read it. “Yes, everything about the agreement is in there,” he was getting impatient and nervous - he had no idea what this would mean for her or their relationship. Humans had such a different approach to these things. He had an entire speech prepared, where he would explain the complicated mating structure of the salarians, but she just sat there calmly and read. Like she already knew everything about it - and it unnerved him a little. “I must fulfill this obligation, but I know you consider our relationship monogamous. And though this if different…” She cut him off by taking one of his hands - apparently he had been making a lot of gestures as he spoke. “This doesn’t change anything between us, Kallo. Not unless you want it to?” a question, however, she did not look uncertain at all. “I don’t want it to change,” he replied a little hopefully. She shook her head with a small smile and kissed him briefly. “Of course you should honour the contract. This is about your people's survival - and as for the intimacy,” she gave a shy smile, “that doesn’t bother me. I am not with a human, so I have to accept that your culture is different,” “That’s a relief,” Kallo sighed and Sara laughed. She then narrowed her eyes while looking at him, biting her lip a little as if she was considering something. She then turned to the data pad and logged into her own information, apparently searching for something. “I was going to wait, but since you brought it up this might be as good a time as any,” she then handed the datapad to him as she continued, “This is a list of potential donors that I compiled,” Kallo looked down and began reading out loud, “Gender; Male, Eye colour; brown, Height; 184cm, no known inherited diseases…” realisation dawned on him and he started to browse through a number of people, and then looking at her - speechless for once. “I was thinking that I need to help with the human population as well, and that I would like to have a family,” she began explaining. He gave her a startled look and she chuckled, “I was hoping that you might want that too, and as the father, I thought you should pick who the biological parent should be,” He smiled as he put the datapad down and considered it. “That would be interesting. We could build model ships together. I could take them to the bridge on the Nexus, teach them about engines, hydraulics and even teach them about nebulas as we pass them,” he interrupted his own daydreaming and frowned as he looked at her, “Are you certain I would make a good father? It’s not exactly a bond that salarians nurture - and males don’t even have a one,” Sara smiled a little sadly, but it was enough for Kallo to regret having asked in the first place. Her relationship with her father had never been a close or even good one - but he knew that it was a painful subject. “I know what it is like to have an absent dad, but you are going to make a great one. If it is what you truly want,” her voice was wavering ever so slightly as she spoke. Kallo took a few moments before answering her. Giving her question the attention that it deserved - that she deserved. He had been worried about her reaction to the mating contract. He knew in human culture it would have been frowned upon. He was worried that it might seem like cheating to her, that she wouldn’t be able to accept that he had children with someone else - a normal human concern, that could be considered justified, as far as he knew. Their relationship had never been physical due to Salarian’s low sexdrive, but he knew that most humans biologically had a need for that sort of intimacy to some degree. The thought that he was going to have that intimacy with someone else, when he hadn’t with her, could also have been emotional for her. It could have been seen as a rejection of her. Especially, since he knew that even though their relationship was chaste by humans standards, she had not sought it out with anyone else. And yet she sat there so patiently and was not bothered by any of it. “I’m certain,” he smiled and she hugged him, he then got up and dragged her to her feet. “What?” she asked a little amused. “This is cause for celebration. I am taking you out to dinner,” he stated with a broad smile and she chuckled. “Alright, let me change and we can leave,” As he sat back down he found himself emerged in thoughts about what he could teach a small human child, since he would have little influence in his future daughter's lives. In the back of his mind something began nagging him. Sara had always been understanding and very good at adapting - not as quickly as Salarians, but still. Salarians excelled at adapting quickly, but in this one instance he wondered if he had in fact adapted to the situation at all. Had he been willing to accommodate her needs in the same way she had his? He knew that he had felt sexual attraction towards asari and even had an uncle, who was married to one. But the Asari was the only case he could think of. With a human it would be different, but that was irrelevant. He simply needed to find a way to accommodate her, it needed not be for his benefit at all. He placed it as a thought for another time, as she came out from the bedroom looking very pretty in a black and white dress and a little more make-up on. She threw him one of his more formal jackets. “Are you ready?” she asked putting on an earring. “Yes,” he got up as he changed jackets and walked towards the door. “How do I look?” she smiled as they walked out the door. “Pretty. I am a very lucky salarian,” he smiled and gave her cheek a small kiss. He was rewarded with a broad smile.
10263776	please dont let go	{ "Archive Warning": null, "Category": "Multi", "Characters": "James \"Bucky\" Barnes, Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel)", "Fandom": "Captain America (Movies)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by AngelycDevil", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "1,879", "Additional Tags": "no one actually dies, but there is a death scene, mission, Established Relationship, Sam Needs A Hug, Bucky needs a hug, bucky is still done with their shit", "Relationship": "James \"Bucky\" Barnes/Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "across time", "Collections": "Imagine Steve Rogers", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": "Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply", "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	“—only option, James. You know Sam can do it.”“I said no. That’s final, Pegs.”Oh, sweet Jesus. Not again.“Buck, we’ll be fine. It’s no more dangerous than th—”“I dare you to finish that sentence, Rogers.” Damn, he sounds hot like that. Sam bites away a smile as he rounds the corner. He’d left them alone for ten minutes to suit up and they’re already at each other’s throats. It’s almost enough to take the excitement out of wearing wings. Flying. He can fly.“You are not doing anything reckless,” Bucky continues. “Sam’s only been out of the hospital for two months. You will not drag back into some harebrain—”“Bucky, please.” Sam walks into the cargo hold and up to his boyfriend. Peggy smiles at him tiredly. He grabs Bucky’s hands and pulls him close. Physical touch always grounds Bucky even though sometimes he can’t handle it. He knows how worried Bucky can get, how worried he had been when Sam was hit. And he hates making Bucky worry, he hates making Bucky doubt and yet… “I’m completely capable of taking care of myself. I’m fine. I was cleared by Dr. Cho herself. Regeneration tech is the future.”Bucky flushes, caught. His fingers tighten their hold on Sam’s. “You just got out of the hospital. I’m not letting you go into a situation where you can get hurt again.”Sam softens. He rests his forehead against Bucky’s for a moment. “But that’s not your choice to make. We’re superheroes, sweetheart. This is what we do.”Bucky swallows heavily, looking down on their entwined fingers. When he looks up, his face is carefully and completely blank. “Do whatever you want.”He’s out of Sam’s hand and the room before Sam can react. Shit.Steve starts after him, but Peggy pulls him back. “We don’t have time, Steve. He’ll be fine.” She rests her head on his arm. “We’ll all be fine. Bucky’s simply overthinking it. We have only have twenty more minutes to come up with a solid plan. That’s the best thing we can do right now.”Steve sighs and nods. Despite his aching heart, Sam smiles and opens his arms to let Steve fall in. “Peggy’s right. It’ll be fine.”“THIS IS NOT FINE! THIS IS SO FAR FROM FINE! STEVE, 5 and 8. PEGGY, BEHIND YOU.” Sam swoops down between two warehouses and knocks out two of the HYDRA agents as Steve round kicks the soldier who crept up on his five and somehow simultaneously just about beheads the other guy with the shield. Despite all the practice he’s had with it, he still can’t quite manage it like Steve does.Sam touches down for a moment and uses that momentum to get back in the sky. Soaring between whizzing bullets, he gets his eyes on Peggy again…who is nowhere to be seen.“Carter, you get in?”When he doesn’t get an answer, “Red, I need eyes.” <initiate seek protocol> <infrared: negative> <heat signature: negative> <last known heat signatu “Red? RED! No! Goddammit.” Sam sweeps back down, landing where he saw Carter last. There were no soldiers around, nothing. He couldn’t hear anything, not the bullets, not Steve or the shield, not Bucky or the quinjet.It was too quiet. Dead silent.“Peggy?” Sam whispers. Why, he doesn’t know. Probably because this is Creepy AF and he doesn’t do creepy, much less Creepy AF. He likes his life just fine, thanks.See, here’s the thing, he’s been in enough combat situation to know this ain’t normal. Which means 0-84. Which means he should contact SHIELD. But he can’t. Because his communications are dead.Great.Just…so fucking great.Sam pulls out his glock and does a perimeter check. Nothing.So. She’s inside. She went inside the creepy base without backup. Now, to be completely honest, Sam totally understands why Bucky’s always harping on them. Because they pull shit like this. Unnecessary shit. Not that she can’t take care of herself, but there’s three of them for a reason.He remains alert as he slips into the base with an open door. No locks, no keypads, nothing. Again, creepy.Maybe Wanda and Nat should’ve taken this case. They probably have a better background in this sort of stuff.He clears each room as fast as he could while also being thorough and keeping an ear out for the comms getting back up again. He goes to the basement before the upper levels. He touches every piece of equipment he can. He touches half-filled coffee mugs and toasters. They’re all cold. There’s no one around. It’s like there’s never been anyone around except all the equipment is state-of-the-art and there are no cobwebs anywhere. It’s clean. Perfect.PerfーCould he be hallucinating?He can’t see Peggy anywhere. He can’t hear anything aside from himself. Not the ventilation systems. The quiet…the quiet is almost deafening. It can’t be real.This can’t be real.Sam sprints down the stairs and outside. The sun feels warm. He can feel the breeze on his skin. He darts between trucks, cold trucks, to where he saw Steve last, but there’s no one there. No Steve. No fallen soldiers. No bleeding guards. Nothing except abandoned vehicles and buildings.This isn’t right.He has to get outta here. He has to find Peggy and Steve. He has to get back to Bucky. He hasーhas toーThe quinjet.He needs to get back the quinjet.Bucky parked the quinjet 1.3 miles from the base, 17 degrees southwest.“That’s.” Sam gulps. “That’s…alright, so the sun’s over there and so I need to…over here. There. Somewhere. Right. Sam, you got this. You gotーIs…is that smoke? Please tell me it ain’t smoke. Oh, no no nononononono.”All thoughts of a solid plan slip out of his mind and he runs towards theーyep, smoke. Smoke means fire. Fire never means anything good.Panic bubbles through him and he tries to regulate his breathing before he passes out or something equally stupid. The closer he gets, the stronger the pungent smell of smoke is, the more ashes float to the ground and here he is, running into a forest fire. Any other day, he’d be hightailing the other way, but this is Bucky. This is Bucky. His lover, his family, their forever.Sam shrugs off his jacket and balls it up to cover his face as he moves closer, slower, more careful. Bucky has to be okay. Bucky will be okay. And then they’ll go back and find Peggy and Steve. It’ll be fine.It’ll be fine.It’ll be finー“Sam? Is thatー”Peggy?“Peggy!” He runs towards the direction of her voice only to bound back when the air around him burns.“Sam!” A shout.“Steve!”Sam runs.He waves a hand in front of him, trying to clear the heat from blurring his vision, but that only makes him cough.Covering his face almost completely, he searches for her voice. Her voice. That’s what’s important. Forget everything else. Forget the heat. Forget the panic. It’s okay. It’ll be fine. “Peggy, talk to me. Hey girl. Please. What are you doing out here?”“Iー” she coughs then chokes. “I’m okay. I came toーfind….Bucーky. Somethーing was s-strange. Iー”“Yeah, me too,” he replies and peeks over his covering. His vision blurs and dances, but he can see her on the ground, Steve hovering on her side overーNo.No.No.“Come here,” Steve gasps out. “I’m trying to wakeーhim up. But he won’tーyou were a paramedic.”Steve looks up at him, his eyes wide. He was trembling. “Sammy, you gotta save him. You have to save hi-im. Sammy please.”Sam makes himself move. He has to. He has to try.A sob ripped out of Peggy when he comes closer. He feels her cold touch on his arm, gripping.“I tried to help,” she says.“I couldn’t get him out, she says.“He was alreadyー”Sam can’t take his eyes off Bucky. Burnt, bleeding, broken and bruised. He’s not moving. Every second between Steve’s desperate CPR, he’s not moving. He’s just…there. He’s just…a body. Like Riley had been. A pile of bones and marred flesh. He’s justPeggy’s hand falls away.“SAM!”Bucky?“Sam! Sam, I need you to hear me, okay? I need you to breathe. Count and breathe. Deep breaths. For me. For your Bucky. Please.”Bu “ーcky?”He doesn’t wake up to incessant beeping.Sign #1: he’s actually dead and in heavenHe doesn’t open his eyes to bright white lights either. He’s in the dark and warm. He takes a deep breath and feels a familiar touch on his sternum. He looks down and there’s nothing there. There’s no one here.And then, the noises reach him and he almost dies in relief. Sounds. Thank god.He swallows dryly and tries to move. He manages to get an arm up before it flops back down as exhaustion floods his system.“ーrrified, but he’s okay now. Tony came by to visit. You know what he’s like. Pepper was with him which was nice. We talked…”Peggy?Is thatーSam opens his eyes, blinking against the lights until a dark form appears before him. “Peggy?”“Yes, Sam, I’m right here.” Her arms encircle his.“Peggy…you’re…” alive.“Yes, I’m okay, Sam. I’m completely fine, darling.” She soothes away the frown between his eyebrows before kissing him on his forehead.“What happened?”“Magic. It was a spell.” Peggy grimaces. “Strange helped us with it.”He catches her arm and drops a kiss in the middle of her palm. When she smiles at him, he tugs her close to give her a real kiss. He tangles his fingers in her hair and holds her steady. She’s warm under his fingertips, moving and smiling. Oh, thank God she’s okay. She’s here. Right here. She’s safe. Sam, it’s okay. She’s safe. He pulls back a little to look at her. “Are you okay?”Pain flits through her eyes as she nods, echoes of his own, of whatーSam jolts up in his seat, almost butting into Peggy.“SAM!” Peggy tries to push him down, but Sam’s out of the bed and out the door before she can.He follows the voices down the hallway to the living room where Steve andーBucky.Sam’s across the room in a flash and in Bucky’s lap. Bucky who is warm and moving. Bucky who isn’t burned or broken.“Whoa, darling. You alright?” Bucky grins at him.Sam dips down to kiss his boyfriend before he starts crying. Blindly, he reaches for Steve and pulls him close, sliding an arm around Steve’s neck. He gasps when Steve joins them, his face smushed against Sam’s, his hard body pressed against his side, his back…just present. He pulls away from Bucky to pull Steve into a deep kiss. You’re okay. You’re all okay. Thank God. Thank God. Thank God. Thank God. Steve wraps himself around Sam, his warmth sinking in Sam’s skin and he basks in it. Peggy joins them a few seconds later, pressing a open-mouthed kiss on Sam’s exposed throat and he shudders. They’re all here. They’re all safe.It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.
10219658	Sleepover	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Yvgeny Bulgoyaboff \| Buff Frog, Ludo", "Fandom": "Star vs. the Forces of Evil", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by devil", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-11T00:00:00", "words": "1,117", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": "Yvgeny Bulgoyaboff \| Buff Frog/Ludo", "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 }	Footsteps echo as Buff Frog walks down the long castle corridors. Master Ludo summoning at such a late hour was strange. He always demanded that once he was in bed he was not to be disturbed, no matter what. Once Ludo called a monster to his room late in the night, only to fall asleep and forget about it. No one has seen him since. Buff Frog gulps, stopping in front of the door. There's cold air coming in underneath the door. He raises his hand to the door, but hesitates. What if Ludo forgot about him?"Buff Frog? Is that you out there? Get in here!" Ludo screeches from the other side of the thick door. "I could hear your fat feet coming down the hall!"At least he wasn't forgotten about. He pushes the door open, stepping into the room. Ludo sat in his bed, skull crown missing and pajamas on."Ludo, master." He salutes but his eye wander. He had never seen Ludo's room before. It was very... big. Much too big for such a little monster. It was also so regal, like--"Hey, did I give you permission to look around?" Ludo snaps, hopping off the bed and paces around. He seems very distressed. "Okay, I'm sorry I shouldn't--Not when I'm going to ask you this but--Ugh!"He clenches his fists, stomping on the floor."Uh," is all Buff Frog can say, rubbing the back of his neck. He trusted the boss but this situation was very unusual. Even for Ludo. "What is it exactly you want from me?"Ludo inhales. "I need you to... get in my bed and let me sleep on top of you. No questions asked." While he talked he gestured from Buff Frog, to the bed, then to clasping his hands nervously. "So uh, what do you say buddy?""I do not understand. Why are you be needing--""HEY! I said no questions! So are you gonna get in the bed or not?"Buff Frog looks from his boss to the bed. It looked really comfortable. And big. Probably the most biggest bed he's ever seen. And it looked so soft. It would probably be his only chance to sleep in a bed so nice...Shrugging, Buff Frog climbs into the bed. This was so strange but, hey, he got to sleep like a king for a night. Who cares if he has to sink to such a weird level. He pats on his stomach. "Come on."A sort of whine leaves Ludo and he stomps over to the bed. He drags a hand down his face, muttering to himself. "I can't believe this, I can't believe I'm going to--eghh!" He crawls onto the bed, hesitating but ultimately getting on top of Buff Frog. He curls up into a little stiff ball, still muttering to himself. Buff Frog stares up at the ceiling not exactly sure what to do next. "Blanket!" The direction he needs is yelled at him. The man whispers a sorry, pulling a blanket up over him. "No! Don't cover me, you doof!""Sorry," Buff Frog says again, lowering the blanket. The muttering slowly comes to a stop, though Ludo is still laying very stiffly. Buff Frog exhales, looking up at the ceiling again. If this was going to be his new job it was very strange. But he liked making boss happy. And the bed felt like a giant marshmallow and it wasn't so bad. It was like sleeping with a grumpy cat who doesn't like you but you feed it so it has to be kind of nice to you. Or something like that. There used to be a cat in the castle. Buff Frog wasn't sure where it we--"No questioning this! I told you!" Ludo snaps."I was thinking of other things.""Oh. Okay. Well don't question it.""I wasn't going to.""Well good. Because I don't want you to.""Okay." Buff Frog wasn't going to question it. Not even internally. He just wanted to try sleeping in this nice bed and do his job. That's it. Ludo seems to still have his doubts about it, restlessly fidgeting and flopping around on his stomach. Buff Frog sighs and closes his eyes. He could ignore it, for Ludo, for this nice bed. He could do this. He smiles. Even the pillows were so soft, it was like sleeping on a cloud. Did the Mewmans live like this? It was so nice."ALRIGHT FINE, I'LL TELL YOU!"Buff Frog's eyes snap open. Ludo is in his face, clutching his shirt. He must have dozed off for a second because he didn't feel the little monster pounce up on him. "Ludo, it is be fine. I don--""I just... I want to feel loved sometimes, you know? It's so... I don't know if I know what it feels like?" Ludo plops down on him, burying his face again his chest. A little sniffle escapes him. "So now stop making all those judgmental snoring sounds at me and just let me sleep on top of you, okay?"Buff Frog's mouth is gaping. All he wanted to do was sleep in a nice bed. But boss was hurting and he couldn't ignore that. No matter how screechy the little bird could get Buff Frog was very fond of Ludo. He even made him gifts all the time and considered him to be some sort of weird family member. Hearing he did not feel loved was very strange. Perhaps due to the previous residence of the castle? Buff Frog always assumed Ludo knew them but he was never certain."It is fine." He tries comforting the little monster, patting him on the back gently. He sucks in his bottom lip, trying to think of something better to say. "I have always wanted to be having childrens of my own."Ludo stops sniffling for a second and looks up at him, sneering. "I don't want to be your child, you weirdo.""No! No!" Buff Frog holds up his hands. "What I mean is... you told me something personal. And I tell you something personal in return. So you do not feel the weirdness. I want childrens and to feel loved, too.""Oh." Ludo fidgets again. "Alright then."Buff scoots Ludo up to be on his chest and drapes both arms over him. "You are very loved. I will make sure you feel it."Ludo is quiet for a really long time before finally sighing. "Whatever."In Ludo talk, that was basically a thank you. Buff Frog beams, closing his eyes. He gets to sleep like a king and boss is happy. What a good night.
10213265	Hesitate	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Female Shepard (Mass Effect), Kaidan Alenko, Illusive Man", "Fandom": "Mass Effect", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by LauraEMoriarty", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-10T00:00:00", "words": "100", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Renegade Angels", "Collections": "MEFFW 100 Word Drabble Challenge", "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 }	She freezes, her finger on the trigger. There is something in Kaidan’s eyes that makes Aoife hesitate, a lingering look that begs her to trust him, knowing she is only acting on information given. A gunshot. That’s all it takes as the asari councilor falls backwards, but Kaidan’s arm catches her, and Aoife squeezes the trigger, her aim sure and true. A spurt of red and the sound barrier being broken, and then Udina falls. Hesitation. It comes down to a choice. Everything does, in the end. Not now, though. She squeezes the trigger. The Illusive Man is dead. Freedom.
10296464	You Could Never	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Gen", "Characters": "Reigen Arataka, Kageyama \"Mob\" Shigeo", "Fandom": "モブサイコ100 \| Mob Psycho 100", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by SakuraNights", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-14T00:00:00", "words": "2,024", "Additional Tags": "Overwork, shigeo needs to take better care of himself, Dad!Reigen, dad reigen is best reigen, fight me, no shipping or pairing, Fluff, Feels, heart to heart, reigen arataka - Freeform, kageyama shigeo - Freeform, mob, Mob Psycho 100 - Freeform, MP100 - Freeform", "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 }	When Mob came to work that afternoon, Reigen immediately noticed something wasn't right. Telltale signs of exhaustion were evident on Mob’s face, and he looked slightly paler than usual. Even his movements, though they were never quick to begin with, were sluggish, and he appeared to be having some trouble concentrating. “Master, is something wrong?” Mob asked quietly. Crap , he’d been caught staring. He had met his gaze a couple times earlier, but Reigen would hastily look away or pretend he was staring at something on the wall behind him. This time, though, he had actually called him out on it. No sense in covering it up now , he supposed. “You're looking a little pale there. Are you sick?” Reigen mentally winced at the bluntness of the question, and yet it was all he could think to say at this moment. Mob seemed to hesitate before answering. Clearly, there were some nerves at play here, he noted. “I-I’m not sick…” At the very least, he wasn’t lying , but he definitely didn't seem to be telling the whole truth, either. Mob quickly turned back to his schoolwork, and Reigen watched him carefully. Now, it appeared as though he were trying to somehow hide himself. What could have set him so on-edge? “...Is there something you’re not telling me?” he tried, attempting to coax an answer out of the boy. “Huh? Ah, no… everything is fine.” Bizarre behavior, indeed. He was definitely hiding something, but what? Why on earth would Mob feel the need to keep a secret from him? He decided pushing for a little more information couldn’t hurt. “Mob, you do know I’m your master. That means you should definitely tell me if something isn’t right.” Reigen didn’t feel great about pulling this card against him, but if he wanted info, then this was the way to do it. Mob’s face, ever so slightly, changed into something of sadness, maybe even a touch of guilt. “I understand, Master. Everything is fine.” He held his attention on his schoolwork, still attempting to avoid his gaze. Reigen might as well have been trying to squeeze info from the wall next to him, but determinedly, he decided that he wouldn’t be defeated this way. It was at this point he decided to pay closer attention to his student’s strange, lethargic appearance. Mob’s hands were trembling subtly, and he was breathing heavier than normal. Not only that, but his overall appearance was just… tired. Despite wearing his usual default expression (or non-expression, if he was being honest), it was obvious he wasn’t doing too well right now, and probably hadn’t been for the past few days. He thought back to the last work day he had seen Mob - maybe 2 days ago - and remembered that yes, he had noticed something vaguely unusual about his student that day, but disregarded it as nothing. Looking at him now, he regretting not saying anything sooner. But he would get to the bottom of this, no doubt, and he brainstormed a little more. If what Mob was saying was true, that he wasn’t sick, then that could only mean… “Have you been taking proper care of yourself, Mob?” Mob didn’t answer, so Reigen tried pushing a bit more. “You know, like eating enough meals, or getting enough sleep. Are you doing that?” All was still before Mob finally responded, so quietly he nearly had to strain to hear him. “...No.” It definitely wasn’t the answer he’d been hoping to hear, but he was surprised by how easy it was to get him to say it. Mob was never good at lying, thankfully, and he probably knew he wouldn’t be able to lie to his master, even if he tried. Though Reigen felt some weird, protective nature start to take over, he forced himself to remain composed (and found it oddly tough to do so). Even from across the room, he could feel his disciple’s stress, and decided that adding onto it by freaking out was a bad idea. “Well, now I’m curious. Why not?” Mob kept his gaze trained on his schoolwork, likely pondering how to properly respond. Reigen could practically see the gears turning in his head. “I’ve been… busy,” he replied softly. Now that he mentioned it, Mob had been studying unusually hard the last time he was in the office, too. In that moment, the pieces finally came together, and everything clicked. Reigen sighed; he knew exactly what was going on. Overwork. It was all too common and tragic in the present-day workplace, with businessmen and students alike. Barely taking the time to eat, sleep, or properly care for themselves in general, and all for what? Just so they could get more work done, or study for tests that would never matter again for the rest of their lives? Reigen found such an endeavor to be incredibly stupid and self-destructive, and unfortunately, he had seen at least one or two colleagues fall into this god-awful habit in his previous workplace. And while that in itself was bad, it was ten - no, a hundred times worse seeing Mob, of all people, being dragged under this terrible spell. Again, that strange, protective nature reared its head full-force, and he found himself struggling more and more to keep it subdued. What was wrong with himself today? “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” Reigen asked slowly, the question somehow harder to ask than the previous questions before it. “I ate a little before coming here,” Mob answered earnestly. “No no, I’m talking about an actual meal, Mob, not a small snack. When was the last time you had something filling?” “... ...It’s been a few days.” It took a little longer for him to answer this time, and if Reigen thought keeping it together was difficult before, it was almost impossible now. He could’ve damn-near exploded right there and then - not at Mob, of course, but just in general. How had his parents not noticed? How did Ritsu not notice?? It became increasingly obvious that Mob may have been hiding or making excuses to everyone regarding his condition. He didn’t know how often he interacted with his parents (though Reigen had stressed to him in the past that spending time with family was incredibly important), but Ritsu, surely, would’ve at least felt something wrong (if that was how reading auras worked, anyways). Maybe he had lied to him, too. And maybe Ritsu saw through the deceit and, though worried, took his word for it, since Mob’s his older brother, and should know what he’s doing. “The finals are coming up, and my math grades aren’t so good…” he heard Mob speak again, more so to himself than to Reigen. So that really was the reason, then. Studying so hard, to the point of almost collapsing, because he feared certain failure. A valid fear, but still, he had to wonder…. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Reigen heard himself say, voice surprisingly steady despite the absolute chaos he felt swirling about as he tried to wrap his mind around all of this. “I didn’t…” Mob started, but paused, seeming reluctant to say more. “...Didn’t what?” Reigen prompted. Didn’t want to fail? Didn’t want anyone to find out? “...I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.” ...Oh. Now that hurt. For once, he found himself at a total loss for words. The metaphorical train of thought had smashed into an impenetrable brick wall called heartbreak, and Reigen had no idea where to even begin picking up the pieces. “I’m really sorry… I'm sorry,” Mob’s voice, ashamed and even softer now than before, floated through the air. No, this absolutely was not how he wanted this to go. Gods be damned , this wasn't how it should go. Reigen took a moment to pull himself together before leaving his desk to cross the room. He crouched down next to Mob, who still hadn’t looked up from his lap. “Hey, Mob.” Mob slowly turned his head to face him, his usual blank looked overshadowed by what could only be described as pure debilitation. Reigen stared for a moment, before flicking his gaze to the open book on his desk. “This is important. But it’s not something so important that you should sacrifice your well-being over it.” He closed the book and pushed aside gently. He turned his attention back to Mob, who still hadn’t said a word. “I don’t want to tell you how to live your life, but I need you to promise me you’ll at least try to eat and sleep each day. Even if it’s just one meal, or only a few hours of rest, it makes a world of a difference. Not just you, but your grades will also suffer if you aren’t caring for yourself first, and all of this will be for naught.” He placed a hand on his shoulder, comfortingly and not so unlike the way he had done when they first met. “I am worried about you. I am concerned about you. But I am not disappointed in you. You could never disappoint me.” Mob’s eyes widened slightly, before he let out a sigh of something akin to relief. And in that moment, he suddenly appeared far more exhausted than he did when he first walked in. Reigen squeezed his shoulder and smiled lightly. “First thing’s first, let’s get you something to eat, then you can crash on the couch, okay?” This time, Mob only acknowledged what he’d said with a nod. Reigen coaxed him to stand, then grabbed his own coat and closed up the office. They didn’t have any appointments today, and he figured that, while his student rested up, he could search the internet for any news or rumors. It definitely wasn’t a bad idea to take a day off. They visited their usual ramen stop and stayed for a little over 2 hours. Reigen had finished his meal in record time, but Mob ate slowly, likely not so hungry at this time. He warned Mob that, now that he’d gotten sustenance for his system, his body would probably wake up more, and he’d be hit with a wave of starvation. “Eat in moderation. You’ll end up feeling sick if you just scarf down everything you see.” “Yes, Master.” By the end of the meal, Mob had, unsurprisingly, fallen fast asleep at the table. Reigen had expected as much, and after paying for the meal, he hoisted him up onto his back, gripping under his legs. “...Sorry…” he heard Mob murmur quietly as he began walking back to the office. He readjusted his grip and turned his attention back to the road in front of them. “You've got nothing to apologize for. Getting better and taking care of yourself are all I'm expecting from you.” They made it back to the office as the sun was still setting, bright orange hues still coloring the evening sky. It was usually around this time that, on a not-so-busy day, Reigen would send Mob on his way home. As he was now, exhausted and in no mood to walk anywhere at the moment, they returned to the office instead. He laid Mob down on the couch, noting that he was just small enough to fit on it comfortably. Now that he thought about it, his student had gotten heavier, too, if his aching arms and back were any indication. It was enough to remind him that, even though he was still young, Mob was growing up quickly, and was, unfortunately, experiencing an unnecessary part of adulthood that he’d never wish upon anyone. Ah, there was that peculiar, nameless feeling again, this time a lot quieter than it was during their previous conversation. He shrugged off his coat and laid it over Mob, then began making his way back to his desk to start researching jobs again. Before leaving however, he paused when he heard Mob whisper a soft “thank you” as he turned over to face the couch cushions. Reigen, smiling tenderly, reached out to ruffle his hair gently. “Have a good rest, Mob. You deserve it.”
10211093	Spina	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Monkey D. Luffy, Roronoa Zoro", "Fandom": "One Piece (Anime & Manga)", "Language": "Русский", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by Kapacy", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-10T00:00:00", "words": "383", "Additional Tags": "Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Masturbation, Fetish, Ratings: R, Drabble", "Relationship": "Monkey D. Luffy/Roronoa Zoro", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Monster Trio: zolu, zosan, sanlu and threesome", "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 }	Зоро тренируется с катанами, стоя на поляне по пояс обнажённый. Его спина блестит от пота, золотится в свете солнца, божественно классная. Луффи валяется под деревом и жадно наблюдает, как движутся мышцы под смуглой кожей, как изгибается линия позвоночника и как напрягаются плечи. Зоро весь как будто вырезан из тёмного дерева мастерской рукой, и это так красиво, так... завораживающе, что Луффи залипает. Лениво мнёт себя сквозь бриджи, просовывает ладонь под них и неторопливо дрочит, чувствуя, что головка уже такая же мокрая, как спина его — только его! — мечника. Жар разливается по телу, печёт и снаружи, и изнутри. В воздухе пахнет цветами, нагретой травой, запахом Зоро: солёным и мускусным, терпким, как сухое вино. Луффи раз за разом ведёт языком по губам, собирая этот запах, этот вкус, и мечтает вылизать Зоро, можно с ног до головы. Летают пчёлы, жужжат майские жуки, порхают бабочки, мельтеша яркими крыльями, и божьи коровки норовят сесть на щеку Луффи, но тот не отводит глаз от спины Зоро, поэтому даже не может смахнуть букашку, боится отвлечься, и та щекотно ползёт по нему. Когда прозрачно-рыжий луч заходящего солнца метит серьги Зоро бликами, у Луффи запирает дыхание — и он сладко кончает, видя перед собой только влажную поясницу и ямочки над ягодицами, в которые так удобно пристраивать большие пальцы.А потом валяется на траве, рассматривая небо сквозь ветви и лениво вытирая руку о траву.— Бездельничаешь, капитан, — над Луффи нависает хмурый Зоро, с него течёт: видимо, облился из бочки тёплой, затянутой паутиной водой.— Дрочу. У тебя охуенная спина, знаешь?Скулы Зоро идут пятнами, и он недовольно фыркает:— У кока нашего словечек понабрался?— У тебя, — честно отвечает Луффи и делает подсечку. Опрокидывает Зоро лицом в траву и садится ему на бёдра. С нажимом проводит раскрытыми ладонями от плеч до поясницы, впитывая упругость и жар мышц, со вкусом слизывает капли с позвоночной впадины, кусает загривок и плечи, пересохшими губами целует родинки на боках — и Зоро хрипло стонет. Мнёт в кулаках зелень, ерзает, поводит лопаткой, но не пытается сбросить Луффи, остановить. Тот обводит кончиками пальцев чёткие линии мускулов, заводясь снова, оставляет ногтями длинные светлые полосы, пока кожа не покрывается мурашками, а Зоро рычит:— З-зара-зааа...Луффи смеётся, ложится на Зоро грудью, обхватывает руками и ногами и вновь кусает, оставляя яркий засос. Трётся носом о шею и счастливо вздыхает.У Зоро очень чувствительная спина и она — как и весь Зоро — принадлежит Луффи.
10238228	Falling Short of True	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Evil Queen \| Regina Mills, Maleficent (Once Upon a Time)", "Fandom": "Once Upon a Time (TV)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Oparu (USSJellyfish)", "chapters": "2/2", "completed": "2017-03-14", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "5,994", "Additional Tags": "Breaking Up & Making Up, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family", "Relationship": "Evil Queen \| Regina Mills/Maleficent", "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 }	"I don't think I can do this. I can't give you what you want. What you deserve." Looking at her aches like a knife in her stomach, but she owes her this. Look at her while she ruins her life, again. "And you shouldn't have to wait for me." Her eyes sting, and Mal's already crying. "You'll wait and that's not fair. I've already taken--""I don't care about that."Of course she doesn't."That's why I have to end this." Regina shuts her eyes. Tears burn, then run hot down her face. "I can't be what you want.""Regina, no.""You should be happy.""I am happy.""No, no you're not, you won't be. It'll eat at you and it's just better if we stop now before--""You ruin my life?" Mal raises an eyebrow."It's not funny.""If you knew the length of my life, dear.""That's just the point. I'm not ready, I may never be ready for another child, and if you stay with me, you won't have that. You'll have to wait until--""You're gone and I replace you?""Yes."Mal shakes her head, eyes liquid with tears. "Oh darling, it's not like that.""You should be with someone who wants to raise a child with you. Someone who wants that now. I already put you in a cave for thirty years.""And I don't care about that. I don't care about your darkness or your evil. I look at you and I see Regina, the woman who stormed into my castle, the woman who grew into her powers and then grew into her heart. You are astonishing."She reaches forward, touches Regina's cheek, brushes her tears. "Letting you go will not change how I feel about you.""I'm beginning to think nothing will." Regina leans into her hand, then kisses her. Her chin trembles and her resolve falters. She could let Mal talk her out of this. They could spend their lives together. Mal's patient, she'll wait for her, one day, she'll give in, she'll let her magic go and there will be a child. A little sister for Lily and Henry. A baby Maleficent finally gets to raise. She deserves that, but Regina can't give it to her. She's too tired, too broken. She loved Roland and he's gone, wanted to build a life with Robin and he suffered. Mal's already died once. Staying with Regina will only hurt her; ruin her chance at happiness.Mal releases her cheek, takes a step back. She tilts her head. "I'll collect my things."And it's over.Regina can't watch her face, can't listen to her remove her things from their bedroom. She shuts her eyes, lets her magic take her far away before she changes her mind.Before she's weak, once more.Henry worries that he shouldn't talk to her, but that would be ridiculous. Mal lived in his house, helped him with his homework. He can't ignore her existence."Talk to her like you always do," Regina tells him, trying to be neutral. To be brave. "I broke up with her, that doesn't have to affect her relationship with you."They have coffee, after school. Mal walks him home and stops, ever so politely at the gate.She never walks to the door. Never pushes. Never demands Regina change her mind. Maybe that's what she wants. Mal to demand she reconsider, but she won't. She's patient.Too patient. Too soft and suffering.They still have to work together. Budget meetings are quiet, full of shuffling papers and hands that don't touch. Regina can't even sit at her desk because she remembers Mal's hands on her thighs, and laughing.Mal's stopped drinking coffee. Three weekly meetings go by and she only has green tea (which she never liked before) and Regina shouldn't wonder. She should ask. This is her friend, her lover: the woman whose heart she broke.She doesn't ask. She stares, watches Mal's face, studies her perfectly tailored suits and wonders if she'll wear something softer when she's pregnant. A month passes, dreamy and grey in the bleak end of winter. She sits by the fire on her own, reading books where the pages don't change. Henry brings her hot chocolate (no cinnamon, no chili) and the leaves turn to spring before her heart is ready to let go of the cold.Mal, Emma and Lily eat together sometimes, and she passes them in the street. They smile, Mal nods to her and it's all very polite. Very calm.She hates it. Regina wants to run to her in the street and scream. She doesn't. Grabbing Mal's shoulders and shaking her won't help either, but she wants to know. Is she pregnant? Did it work? Can she get pregnant here? Does she need something else?After two whiskeys, she gets it out of Emma. Mal tried, three times before she gave up. She can't get pregnant like a human. She didn't think she could but--"She tired. Guess she picked up on that hope thing from Henry." Emma swirls her drink. "She'd tell you this herself, if you asked."Regina stares at the floor, her chest tight like iron. "I can't."Emma raises her eyebrows, half choking on her whiskey. "That's bullshit.""When did you become an expert on my relationships, Miss Swan?""When your ex started being my Friday night dinner date." Emma downs the rest of her drink and sets the glass on the table. "I'm not complaining, she's funny. Sad.""I don't want to talk about it.""She needs someone with magic." Emma pours another inch of whiskey into her glass and downs it fast while Regina stares at her own. "Which, makes it a pretty short list." She stands, looks Regina dead in the eye. "I know whatever happened is hard, and whatever you're feeling is harder still, but whoever wants to be a mother should get a chance to be one. You know I--"Regina crushes the glass in her hand without thinking. Her skin's untouched, it's a cute little trick, and whiskey makes her palm smell like smoke."Regina? Hey, I didn't mean...""Good night, Emma.""Would you talk to her?""And say what?" Regina rubs her hand against her dress, no longer caring about the whiskey. "I want her to be happy, even if that means raising our child without me? I'm not that selfless."Emma reaches for her shoulder and other than Henry it's the first contact she's had with a person in weeks. Regina aches to lean into her, to cry and scream and release her frustrations.But it's not Emma she wants to hold her."I don't think she wants it without you.""Perhaps." She paces in front of the fire. "My actions took one child from her, trapped her underground and took thirty years of her life. I made you kill her.""That wasn't your fault.""I made the turnover, I put Henry in danger, I got Robin killed."Emma rubs her shoulder, takes a step closer and Regina should take a step back, pull away and pull herself together, but Emma grabs her, hugs her tight. "Robin wasn't your fault. Maleficent dying wasn't your fault. Neither was Daniel."Being held makes it all worse, and her heart rushes up into her throat and it hurts so much she can't breathe. She doesn't cry as much as she breaks, shatters like crystal. She barely makes a sound, but grief and regret vibrate through her.Emma stays until Regina can breathe, then goes home to Henry and Lily and movie night and maybe Maleficent's there, arguing about special effects the way she does with Henry.Not counting the fairies (fairies and dragons aren't compatible) there are four people with magic in Storybrooke: Zelena, Rumplestiltskin, Emma, and Regina herself. Mal wouldn't ask Zelena, and her relationship with the Dark One has never been that antagonistic, but never cordial either. Which leaves Emma, sweet, heroic Emma who wants to make everyone's lives better.And Regina.She spends a morning in her office trying to decide how she'll cope with her ex having a baby with her best friend. Emma peering over Maleficent's shoulder at the little blonde baby and Mal beaming with pride.She's the one who can't drink coffee because she's so tense she's nauseated, and her thoughts crawl over her skin like rats. Mal should be happy. She deserves that baby, that promise of a future. She deserves everything.Yet Regina can't think of her and a child with Emma without her fists clenching. She should be happy. She wants to be happy, but she can't. Can't even put away the spellbook where she found the spell the most be using. It'll be the full moon in two days and that's time, when the light is sweet and silver.It's not like they're having sex. It's purely a donation. Nothing intimate. Emma's just doing what she does, giving back the happy endings. Returning what was stolen.Even Lily's happier about i than Regina is. She laughs with Mal and Emma across the diner while Regina picks up her food. She sits next to Regina on the bench in the park and they eat ice cream and talk about the classes Lily's taking online.Everything's fine.Everyone's happy.Henry drops the box of chocolate frosted donuts on her desk three days later. "You need this."Sitting back in her chair, Regina smiles at him and it's the first genuine emotion she's felt since he went to school that morning. This is easy. "Thank you."He sits down in front of the desk, donut in hand in a moment. "But, you're not hungry.""I'm not."He studies her, a hint of chocolate frosting on his lip. "It's not too late, you know.""Too late for what?" Now she can't look, because even her son is on the other side."A happy ending." He sets his donut down on a napkin. "This is the climax, when the hero has to make a choice between what she thinks she deserves and what she wants, but it's not too late. Trust me, I'm the author.""It's not that easy.""You don't want easy." He tilts his head towards the spellbook. "You want something al ittle more complicated.""It's too complicated."He shrugs. "Only if you stop believing."She could snap at him, because believing has lost her everyone she holds dear at one point or another, but this is Henry."I came back," he starts, leaning back with a smug look. "I came back from New York, and the dead, and Neverland. I love you, and you've never lost me. Maybe she's like that. Maybe you could be happy again.""I'm not unhappy."He laughs and tilts his head so much like Mal that her eyes sting. "That's crap, Mom.""Henry, language.""You're miserable and everyone knows it. Especially Mal. She misses you.""She's free this way. She doesn't have to wait for me.""That's not how she sees it." He finishes his donut, reaches across the desk and pats her shoulder. "See you for dinner, okay? Think about it. Maybe talk to her. When's the last time you actually talked, and not about budgets? You miss her just as much as she misses you.""It's not that easy.""You're a hero, Mom. You don't need easy. What you need, is a little faith." He grabs another donut and winks at her. "You're allowed to be happy. Even if it means I have to babysit."The smell of chocolate and sugar makes her stomach churn in his absence. Her hands tremble when she sets the donuts aside and grabs her coat. The cool air will help, and even though it's her fourth cup of coffee and she should really stop, she wants to hold something in her hands.Her meandering path takes her to Granny's then the docks, and the sea at least understands the cold grey misery in her heart. Henry's right, and she's known that since Mal moved her things out of the bedroom. This is wrong, being apart, doubting, being afraid, but she can't stop herself. It's the same self-destructive spiral of loathing and rage she's been on her entire life.Of course she should be lonely.Miserable."Emma said yes."Regina shuts her eyes, sets down her coffee and wipes unshed tears from her eyes."I thought she would.""The moon will be full tomorrow night, and I should be thrilled." Mal's presence at her side is so familiar that she takes a step closer without thinking. They should stand together, hand in hand, facing the sea and the storms and whatever else the world has for them."I know how much you want to have another child."Mal looks at her hands, her long fingers tight on the wood, then meets Regina's eyes. "I said no."Regina's heart thuds in her ears. "Why?""Because I want your child, not one on my own." Taking a breath steadies her. "I was alone with Lily, and it was bittersweet. You were missing. I want to rectify that as much as I want all the rest of it. I want to hear her cry and pick her up and watch her learn to smile, but I want that with you. I want you."This is what she feared. Mal putting her before what she wants. Mal making the wrong choices, foregoing what her heart has ached for. This is what terrified her so much she made Mal leave. Her chest clamps down but at the same time, she's freed.Mal knows. She has to know it's not fair, not right, what she'd be giving up. Regina takes a breath and trembles, hand at on her stomach.She doesn't want to say it. "What if I can't?""Then I won't.""No, no, that's not fair."Mal laughs, almost crying, and the outburst makes Regina turn to stare at her. "What?""My heart doesn't care about fairness." Mal moves closer and they're too close, sharing the same air.Regina's palms go slick against the damp wood.Mal reaches for her hair, brushes it back, touches her chin. "I love you, Regina. You.""But I can't be--"Hushing her with a finger on her lips, Mal sighs. "Let me decide what I need." Mal's lips brush her cheek, too hot.Regina shuts her eyes. She doesn't break.At least, not on the outside."I said I needed time.""And?" Snow's fingers hover on her cup but she doesn't drink."She's immortal, Snow. She said something wise and witty about having all the time in the universe, and I walked away."Snow's cup clunks on the table. "Why would you do that?""Why?" Regina's asked herself the same question, over and over until she can't look at herself in the mirror. Maleficent loves her, and Regina loves her back, fierce and unforgiving. "You know why.""She's not not Robin, or Daniel." Snow reaches out, seeking her hand and Regina grabs for her like a lifeline. "You just said it. She's immortal. She came back from the dead.""She wasn't really dead." What Snow understands about dragons could be written on her coffee cup. "She doesn't die the way you or I do." Or Robin."Then that's good! She'll be here, you won't lose her." Snow's thumb rubs her hand and Regina needs that because she can barely breathe. Can't sleep since yesterday when she let Maleficent kiss her before she walked away. Her dreams were warmth and laughter and she woke up covered in sweat.Snow's other hand wraps around Regina's trembling one, holding her tight. "Why are you so afraid to be happy?"Blood rushes in her ears, but Snow's question remains, echoing in the empty pit of her stomach. Why are her hands shaking? Why does her coffee taste of metal? Why can't she breathe?"Everyone who has ever loved me has suffered. You know that most of all.""We forgive you." Snow lifts her hands, kissing the back of her fingers. "Maleficent forgives you too." ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- Oddly, no one dares tell her what to do. Emma's supportive, smiles and pats her shoulder and wants to help so much that it glows in her face. Saviour of all, even a heartbroken dragon who fell in love so long ago that it's like the ribs encasing her fragile heart or her trembling fingers. She wants a child. Wishes for that spark of magic at the beginning, the weight of life beneath her sternum and to touch a tiny hand with her fingers. She only saw Lily as an infant for a moment, and that haunts her dreams. Lily didn't understand at first, and perhaps it helps that they're here, where Emma's parents are her own age and she already has a brother, so Mal's longing seems less selfish. "You can't raise me again, I get it. I do. I just--" Lily drags her hand through her hair, and shuffles her feet. "Is that enough to give up what you want? Who you want? You love her.""Love is complicated, dear." "You want to be with her." "She doesn't think it will work.""And that's just it?" Lily's close to her suddenly, too close in that instantaneous motion that she's been trying to practice and just hasn't been able to get. She's too fraught to notice. "You can't give up.""It's not giving up.""Oh fuck that patience shit." Lily flings her hand towards the tree and fire flies from her fingertips. Mal nods at the fireball. "Good.""Yeah?""Much better control." Mal smiles at her for an instant, so proud that Lily can master not only being a dragon but what she's inherited of Regina's powers as well. Lily stops, grabs her shoulder and they stand facing each other, alone in the deep woods. "Control is good for magic, but sometimes it's the last fucking thing you want in life. Control keeps us away from what we want, shuts down our feelings. You love Regina, like, write her poetry and stare into her eyes all day, love her. Control isn't getting her back." Blinking at Lily, her daughter, their daughter, the most wonderful creature to breathe, Mal sighs. Control and patience are all she has. She’d been alive too long to still have the resilience of youth, Lily in time would learn a little of it too. Control keeps her safe, protects her heart from heedless infatuations and heartbreak, allows her to keep putting one foot in front of the other when all she wants to do is stop the world from spinning. "Regina doesn't want me.""That's bullshit, and you both know it.""We wouldn't be good together.""Total fucking bullshit." Lily tosses another fireball into the air, and they watch it together, soaring up into the gray sky. "Next ridiculous reason, please." Mal shuts her eyes. Her tears don't even sting anymore. They're comforting and warm against her skin. "I doubt I can dredge anything up you'll agree with.""Then why are you here?" Lily nudges her shoulder then throws up her hands. "Go get the girl, Mom." Laughing, Mal rubs her tears from her face. "Regina works until at least six.""Then bring her dinner. Henry's with Emma tonight. She'll order in like she usually does." Lily smirks. "Insider diner knowledge. She doesn't cook when he's at Emma's, and Granny's got a great kale soup. She'll love that." "I suppose at least she'd eat." There's no danger of the soup being thrown at her for her presence. They're not that kind of former paramours, like the ones she keeps seeing in movies. They've known each other too long, loved each other through too much ever to be truly angry. It warms her chest with hope."That's the spirit." Lily stares at her boots and the dirt of the path. "She’s been stressing way too much. She needs to eat something." Mal chuckles because that was innuendo and Lily was comfortable enough to make it. "Now you're just teasing me.""You can't tell me you're not lonely. Whenever I break up with anyone, I'm miserable afterward, like I'm crawling out of my skin." Lily flushes pink and can't meet her eyes. "And other stuff." "Quite." Leaving a very satisfying sexual relationship for an empty house and a few indifferent experiences in a tiny hospital room sounds positively idiotic when one thinks of it that way, but perhaps that too is part of the control Lily despises. She can wait. She doesn't need. She won't allow herself. She went too far before, lost years of her life and needed Regina to bring her back. Losing Regina hasn't meant losing her flame or the kind of aching depression that she buried in the sleeping curse. Maybe it's because Regina isn't really gone. She's three houses down, and they see each other in the office almost daily, and she sees Henry enough to be like a third mother. Mal lies awake at night, wondering what the stars would say. They seem to be all that understands her because everything else races in this world. Their stillness is the only thing that reminds her of the old world (other than the smell of Regina's hair, and the sweat of her neck). Lily rubs her arm. "Try and work it out, please? You love her, she's definitely still in love with you, and you guys were happy. You were cute. It was nauseating." "I hear having your parents be romantic can be so." Emma complains of it lovingly, and for a moment before, Mal had wondered if Lily spoke of her mothers in the same fashion. "Seriously." Lily rolls her eyes. She takes Mal's hand, starting them moving again. "You know, I'd be willing to share that with a little sister if I happened to have one. Someday. No rush." It takes only moments to discuss the evening with Henry. They need space to talk, quiet, and Henry keeps a secret as terribly as his grandparents. Mal's standing in front of Regina's house, dinner in hand, when her phone buzzes. Emma wishes her luck. Be happy. Get the girl. Find your happy ending. All of that cheer is something for heroes. Knights and princesses and virtuous shepherds get true loves, fated romances. Evil Queens, no matter how they attempt to redeem themselves, seem to find pain and death.And no one writes love stories about dragons. Her own people don't have tales they hand down of couples who defy the odds and the stars to end up together. No one defeats the darkness with true love's kiss, snout to snout. She almost laughs at herself, taking the steps to Regina's door. This is a different kind of love story. It's messy and complicated, full of stops and starts, and there are no rainbows when she kisses Regina. At least, none anyone else can see. Mal rings the doorbell, standing straight as if she could be unafraid. She waits before the silent, dark house until the lights of the Mercedes fill the driveway. Glancing at her watch, she sighs. Almost seven, and far too late for Regina to be returning from the office. Regina swore she'd ask for help if she needed it with the power plant upgrade. Mal shakes her head and teleports herself to the carport. "I brought you dinner.""Mal!" Regina locks the car, then rubs the back of her neck. "To what do I-?""I wanted to talk, and I thought you might be tired when you got home." Mal shrugs and lifts the plastic bag as a peace offering. "I know you don't like to cook when it's just you."Regina drops her hands to her stomach, holding her keys against her chest. They're still in the garage, just standing, staring as if they're supposed to be here. "That's not true.""Sometimes we didn't cook when it was you and me." "Then we had good reasons." Regina still hasn't moved, but she smiles, weary and kind. "I miss you.""And I you."Sighing, Regina shuts her eyes and waves at the door behind Mal. "Come in, please." She starts for the door, and Mal stops her with a little smile. She's forgotten. "I still have a key." "For emergencies," Regina adds, relaxing her hands just a little. She starts to speak and sighs. "I worried you might want to give it back." Mal's heart skips in her chest, threatening to leave her breathless and still as stone. "It was a kind gesture, to leave me a way in." Regina's gaze warms her before she turns, unlocking the door and letting them both in. It's dark and still, like a tomb without Henry: an empty castle for a lonely queen. She shouldn't have left. Should have fought Regina, resisted their time apart, but she's worn: tired as the frozen river, and it is too easy to wait for spring instead of fighting free of the ice. She owes this to Regina. To herself. Regina sets her keys down where she always does, and Mal follows her to hang up her coat. They pass each other in the dark, slipping neatly through the dance of putting everything away. They've done this enough that it's familiar. This is home and her heart soars as if the ground could fall away beneath her. The lights snap on and Regina tilts her head towards the kitchen. "It's just us."Mal slips out of her boots and Regina leans against the wall to remove her own. Her feet pad across the wood, soft in black socks. This Regina is the one she misses most acutely. Regina who takes down plates and smiles shyly over the silverware, who touches her back when she passes behind her and chuckles when the cork pops. Tiny drops of white wine hit the marble countertop, a small sacrifice for their happiness. They sit across from each other, perched on stools with glasses of wine. Regina asks about Lily, and work, and they slip easily into discussing the town as if nothing is wrong, as if they'd never parted. It's easy, and calm, like leaves falling. Time passes, and kale disappears behind Regina's bright red lips. They should be on her neck, kissing down Mal's chest. Regina toys with her wine glass, fingers brushing the cool stem and those should be on Mal's back, running down her spine. Mal lifts her own glass and Regina's gaze doesn't leave her mouth. Work is nothing important, so they cling to that, like driftwood on the frigid sea, but they shift beneath the surface, leaning closer, falling easier into old habits. Softness and familiarity envelop them, burying them both in the fog of complacency. They could be friends and colleagues: protectors of the town and keepers of the paperwork. Metal clatters when Regina drops her fork. "Sorry." She slips from her stool and Mal moves around the island, using magic to slip between heartbeats. Grabbing the fork before Regina's hand reaches it, she smiles when Regina's fingers find hers. Skin on skin burning as if they've shared contact with an ember. "I miss you.""We can't."Reaching for Regina's cheek, she holds her. Fork forgotten. "I think we can.""It's not fair to you."Mal chuckles, tracing Regina's chin. "You know what I've learned here? In this world, dear, life is not fair. Sometimes, you share love that you don't feel you deserve.""You-" Regina pauses, her voice cracking, "-deserve better.""I'm a dragon, dark and terrible. I'm a living flame that knows no mercy." She leans close, her heart thudding hot. "Perhaps I deserve my deaths." Tasting Regina's lips, she lingers before she pulls back. "You are so much more than that." Regina drags them both up, pressing Mal against the island. "You are kind and patient. You are not claws and teeth."Leting her hand drop to Regina's chest, she rests her fingers against silk and skin. Regina's heart beats beneath her palm, steady and strong. Time slows to the space of a breath, crawling into eternity. Mal drowns herself in Regina's eyes, letting her fears slip away. "And you're not a grim spectre of death, dear. To me, you are light.""How can that be?"Mal kisses her softly, drawn to her warmth. "We believe."Gasping against her mouth, Regina shudders, then presses in. "In what? If you haven't noticed, being my soulmate is a death sentence.""Then allow me to choose my fate." "No, Mal."Regina's head falls to her chest and Mal holds her close. She leans into Regina's dark hair and whispers, "I choose you. Whatever morsel of time I have with you is worth a hundred deaths. I know. I've already had one." "I'm not worth that."Crouching down, Mal lifts her chin, finding her eyes. Their tears mirror each other in glistening trails, and Mal shakes her head, baring her soul. "You are to me." This time Regina kisses her, crashing their lips together. "What about a baby?" she mutters through kisses. "You want a baby."Resting her hands on Regina's hips, Mal sighs contentedly. "So do you.""I don't know if I can.""No one does. It's normal to be afraid of the future." "Henry--""Is the best young man he could possibly be." Regina's fingers brush against the back of her neck, tugging her closer. "You know what he said?""Something wiser than his years.""He'll babysit." Regina balances her hands on Mal's shoulders. Talking should wait, and they'll muddle through, but they need to touch. "He believes in us.""He believes in the best in everyone." "Is that what we are?" Regina's hands crawl up her sides, maddening through Mal's thin shirt. "The best of each other.""Perhaps that is what we should aspire to be." They kiss again, hungry and sweet. Regina's lipstick smudges against Maleficent's own and they tug each other closer. "Okay." Mal's laughter breaks the kiss. "Okay?" Regina holds up her hands, trying to catch her breath. "We're not soulmates. We're most certainly not true love, and maybe that's all right. None of those things have worked for me so far, however--"Mal raises an eyebrow. "However?"Taking Mal's face in her hands, Regina chuckles. "Perhaps you and I are worth an exception." "Is that your choice?"Regina nods, eyes shining, and whatever she says is lost in the rush of emotion. The ice cracks, and the sun bursts over the trees and winter is gone. Regina is hearth and home and fire, burning warm and safe. "I know what I want." With that, buttons are the enemy, and cloth a barrier neither of them wants. They free each other from that as they've shed the bonds of doubt and fear. Regina's mouth closes onto her neck, nibbling down. Together they lift Regina up onto the counter, opening her legs. Mal slips her panties down over Regina's hips, pulling them free of her skirt. "This isn't going to get you pregnant," Regina teases, dropping her voice. Mal kisses her knee, pushing up Regina's skirt. "No, but it'll be fun." Regina's hand digs into her hair, she bites her lip and that little moan is all the encouragement Mal needs. She kisses her way up, lifting Regina's knees and parting her legs. Her fingers slip against the wet heat of Regina's body, and they moan together, wanting. Needy. Regina's nails run over her bare shoulders when Mal leans down, lowering her mouth. Regina gasps, bucks, shifting her hips into Mal's hands so her fingers slide deeper. She toys with Mal's breasts, abusing them while her gasps of pleasure echo in Mal's ears. "Harder, there--"Sex can be many things. Heavy and rolling, like a summer storm, or soft as the dawn, but this is joyful, fingers against familiar skin, lips meeting and breaking. Regina's cry of release slips easily into laughter and then they're wrapped around each other, half-undressed, damp with sweat and tears. Regina kisses her face, over and over, taking her tears. "I'm sorry.""I'm not.""You're not?"Slipping from the counter, Regina peels off her skirt and drops that to the floor with the rest of their clothes. Naked, gorgeous, Regina walks her into the fridge, hands against her stomach. "You didn't miss me?"Whimpering when Regina slips her thigh between her own, Mal digs her claws into Regina's arms. "I missed you desperately.""But you're glad.""I'm not sorry." Regina's fingertips roll over Mal's breast, teasing. One of Henry's permission slips flutters down from the fridge, knocked loose by Mal's elbow. "You're not sorry we broke up and were miserable for months?"Nuzzling Regina's neck, Mal nibbles and pulls away, retreating towards the living room. Regina catches her wrist and then they're kissing again, mouths together, skin against skin and Regina leads her to the sofa because they won't make it up the stairs. Regina taunts her, fingers sliding up her thighs. She aches, shifting closer to the promise of release. It doesn't have to be good, or long, or perfect. Now is all she wants. "I'm not sorry now." "Right now?" Regina toys with penetrating her, teasing. "Not right now." She bites her own lip, whimpering again. "But a moment ago." Regina pauses, holding her on the brink. "There were things we needed to say."Meeting her eyes is eternity, past and future, stretched out in front of them, full of sorrow and promise. "I love you." Squeezing her thigh, Regina chuckles, and kisses her way towards Mal's ear. "That you've never had a problem saying." Regina's fingers slip inside, firm and deep and Mal can barely breathe because she hasn't been touched, hasn't felt like this. She couldn't. Without Regina, nothing burns as brightly. Merciless, Regina toys with her, working her up, sucking her breasts and teasing with her thumb on Mal's clit. Flames burst in her vision, in her chest."I love you," Regina whispers, and the words hit harder than orgasm. Regina's half in her lap and they can't stop staring at each other, beaming with brimming hearts.Naked souls. After that, their evening is each other, wrapped in blankets in front of the fire, reaching and touching. Regina runs her fingers through Mal's hair as the set aside the empty bottle of wine. They've kissed until Mal's lips are swollen and all of Regina's lipstick is gone. Regina traces the bite mark on Mal's shoulder and shakes her head. "That almost looks like it hurts." "I doubt anything could hurt right now, between you and the wine."Regina rests her hand on Mal's chest, right over her heart. There's a pale scar on her ribs, what's left of her death at Emma's hands. "It'll just be you and me in the morning."Nodding, Mal sighs, utterly content. This is home, more than anywhere else has ever been. "None of my clothes are here."That earns another laugh and Regina kisses her chest, just above the scar. "I seem to remember you volunteered to take them.""It only seemed polite.""Your half of the closet is still yours," Regina says, curling in close. "I couldn't fill it."Mal kisses the top of her head, her chest liquid with warmth and affection. "Oh?" "It just didn't seem right.""You knew I'd be back." Regina lifts one of Mal's hands, kissing her knuckles. "I guess I did.""Perhaps you're where Henry gets that from." "Me?" Nibbling her breast in protest, Regina rolls her eyes. "No, of course not." "Of course, how could I think such a thing.""I just didn't get around to it.""In months." "In months." Regina slips her hand down Mal's stomach, resting just under her navel. "This could take months.""I hear it does.""But I'll be here, the whole time."Mal lifts her chin, covering Regina's hand with her own. "I believe you."
10212554	Money and Murder	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime, Original Character", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by SonneKa", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-10T00:00:00", "words": "8,875", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, komaeda is a rich man and hinata is kind of his servant, well not like that, but sort of, you understand me right?, I'm lost, Minor Violence, One Shot", "Relationship": "Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2", "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 nightmare. A real one. Nagito was his first name and Komaeda was his last name, last name that echoed throughout people ears all the time. One of the richest families in the country, owning very important companies. “It is an easy life” was what anybody would say. Even Nagito’s life during his childhood hadn’t been too bad, he had to admit.However, he felt he’d been an orphan ever since the day he was born. Too busy with work and money, his parents didn’t pay attention to their son. Well, the caretakers were there for him, but that wasn’t enough for Nagito and his parents never even tried to understand that.A tough childhood. When Nagito tried to be with other families’ kids, they hated on him just because they knew how much money he had. It was so awful, being surrounded by kids who had such a brainwashed mentality yet being so young. He wasn’t like that at all, he never was. Not only because of his loneliness….His “precious luck” had always had his mind occupied with more important things than money. Besides, the people surrounding him at home were different to the ones he was accustomed to outside.His caretakers didn’t come from a rich family, they were the complete opposite of that. And the awful main reason why his parents hired them it was because they wouldn’t need to pay too much, since they were asking to get payed enough to bring food to their home. It was so sad how his parents were such selfish human beings, so miserable even though they could give them so much more…Nagito could see it easily, he was a smart child after all. Although he watched from afar, he was closer than anyone else to the situation.The caretakers had a son, and since he was the same age as Nagito they decided to take him with them to work so they wouldn’t have to leave him alone. It was a fantastic idea, neither Nagito nor their son would be alone.However, it took years for Nagito to get along with the other child. He didn’t want anyone close to him, and nobody knew what to do to convince him otherwise.He was ten years old and never had any friend in his life, he never had the need to be close to anyone. Studying at home and having everything he “needed” there, why would he go outside? There was no reason for that. And when that boy started coming every day to his house (actually, mansion), he didn’t know what to do to keep him out.The other boy, Hajime was his name, stayed close to Nagito anyway. No matter how much he wanted to keep him as farther as possible, he always came back. The one and only reason why he would do that it was, probably, because he was bored.What to do in a huge mansion where the only kid living there only likes reading books all day long without noticing other people’s presence?He understood it wasn’t the nicest place for Hajime to be, and only hoped he would be gone soon.He didn’t need his pity, nor his company. After all, his luck was awfully enough.A year before they met, Nagito’s dog died in front of him. And although people said “it was an accident”, he knew it was his luck’s fault.Everything he loved was gone as soon as he started feeling safe with it. It happened with toys, also with his so precious musical instruments (as a rich child, his parents thought it could be great for him to familiarize himself with music… wrong choice according to his luck, apparently).Besides objects, people he was close to died too. Uncountable maids he enjoyed being with, his first caretakers…Everyone.And he was pretty sure Hajime’s parents weren’t safe, neither him. So there he was, reading a book ignoring everyone’s presence because it would only cause problems. Fortunately, books were the only things safe from his luck.A whole year passed by, and at the age of eleven Nagito’s parents told him they were going on a vacation. It was a whole surprise that his parents thought on him to accompany them because, actually, they’d gone on so many vacations without him that he even lost count.There could be two reasons for that happening: Or they really realized they were leaving him behind all the time and forgetting he was still his son, or Hajime’s parents talked to them.The second option could have been so wrong, since Nagito knew his parents wouldn’t listen to advices coming from “commoners”, but since Hajime’s parents seemed too happy about him getting a little bit close to his parents, maybe he was right after all.So the holidays had been great, he even had a wonderful time free from his luck. He didn’t care about what kind of bad fortune could strike him any minute, after all he was with his parents happy and free.However, the day they had to come back came. And there it was again…A nightmare, a real one.A terrorist had hijacked the plane they were taking. Nagito thought it was going to be his last day alive and, thinking deeply about it, it wouldn’t have been so bad if it had turned out like that. But those weren’t destiny plans.A meteorite fell, just like it came from a science fiction movie, right over the hijacker’s head. There’d been a huge explosion and it seemed like Death was just around the corner.Nagito thought he’d died, he only remembered seeing how the fist sized meteorite hit the terrorist’s head and then everything was black. When he woke up he was still on that plane which didn’t seem to be destroyed that much, and his intuition told him to search for his parents.He found them, of course he did.He found them lying dead in front of him.After that, the real nightmare began and he started playing the game of life.How could someone lose and win at the same time? Life wasn’t a game in the end, but Nagito was a player anyways. He was fated to be lucky for the rest of his life, even if his fortune wasn’t always good.He knew since the day his parents died that everything was going to change, but he didn't know how he should feel about that. It had been a nightmare. A real one. Nagito went back to his country, and the investigation took place. Detectives were sure the terrorist had been hired to murder him and his parents, but in the end Nagito lived. It was because of my luck, wasn’t it? If something as terrible as the death of his parents happened, something really good had to come next because his luck was sort of a cycle, really weird to explain. And it actually did, he gained the inheritance. All the Komaeda’s family fortune belonged to him now.He was glad, since his parents really thought about him enough to leave him all the fortune. However, he was still a child and didn’t know anything about economy and the companies his parents had.Soon what he thought that could be good luck, turned out being bad luck again. He was locked in a life under pressure being rich, learning how to be a business man wasn’t in his plans. He had so many dreams for a hopeful future but everything started to fade away so soon…There were no dreams for him, his life wasn’t written the way he wanted it to be.To make things worse, two years later he was kidnapped. Unfortunately for him, because at this rate he didn’t want to live anymore, he was released when the guy who took him realized nobody would come to his rescue. He was so glad nobody knew about his caretakers to call them, it would have been awful dragging them into his nightmare too.Nevertheless, those caretakers had to give up on working for him due to their health condition. Nagito felt relieved that, at least, his luck didn’t get to kill them. But, even so, they didn’t want to leave Nagito alone at all.He was fourteen, living all alone in a big mansion and just a few maids were there to take care of the place. If he wanted to, he could hire another caretaker but it wouldn’t work for him.He didn’t want anyone, he didn’t need someone to take care of him. He learned how to be alone his whole life. What he really needed was to have a new life, start all over again so he wouldn’t hurt anyone.Yet, nobody had ever believed in his luck. And, ironically, the only person who did… decided to stay by his side.A boy that seemed to want to understand him, even after all those years Nagito’d been ignoring him. Hajime Hinata… You’re so full of hope, aren’t you? Well, I guess we can be similar… somehow. The sound of a lighting hitting a ground snapped Nagito out of his thoughts, for an instance he almost forgot where he was.Raindrops kept the limousine’s windows wet and it was unable to see the road due to them. So he just fixated his gaze at the front and leaned back. Was he nervous? No, it wasn’t the first time going to those kind of meetings. Was he tired? Mostly.He would have liked to choose not to go, but there was no way he could do that. The word “business” was written in his blood, he couldn’t just erase that part of him.Those kind of meetings, better called “parties”, had him tied up since he was, like, one of the most important people assisting. How tiring…It was even funny how his luck seemed not to work during those events, as if Nagito couldn’t take advantage of it in any possible way.But this time he had to remind himself that it was different. He wasn’t alone.Though, he didn’t know how to feel about that yet.“Komaeda…” a familiar voice resounded in his ears, too close to him, and Nagito couldn’t help turning his head. “We are near… should I go to the front seat? It’ll be kind of weird if people see me next to you here.”He smiled. “Oh, Hinata-kun, don’t worry! This time you’ll be my partner, remember?” the one mentioned, Hajime, widened his eyes. Yes, Nagito was one hundred percent sure he was nervous.“I… don’t think—““I do think it’s an amazing opportunity for you, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? You’ll pretend being one of us for a night, you’ll forget your awful duty of being my caretaker! You won’t have to look after me, isn’t that great?”“Komaeda… no… “ he shook his head and waved his hands in front of him. “I just think that they’ll notice I am not—““Worth it?” Nagito finished his excuse and placed his hand on the other’s shoulder, still smiling. “But you’re, Hinata-kun! You’re such an impressive person, that’s why I thought you had to be with me tonight.”That was a real lie and he didn’t know if Hajime would buy it.The only reason why he brought him to that “party”, was because he didn’t like being there. So many people surrounding him, pretending to like him just because of his importance. He didn’t want that, but he also didn’t want to be alone.The only person who was keeping him from loneliness was Hajime, his caretaker.It was so embarrassing, having someone about his same age having that duty. However, it wasn’t like Nagito made Hajime took his work that seriously.They’ve been together for so many years now, it was impossible not to want to be closer to him, to befriend him or something like that. Nagito was still surprised that his luck didn’t try to do him something bad. The only tragedy including Hajime was that his parents died after dealing with some awful illnesses. Since that moment, Hajime’d been living in his mansion and he didn’t regret it.Somehow, Nagito still wanted to keep his own distance from him. He feared for his life, it was still dangerous. His brain was always thinking about that, but his heart…“I want you to be the one and only accompanying me, Hinata-kun.” As soon as he said those guilty words, he bit his bottom lips. He didn’t stop staring at Hajime’s hazel eyes.He gulped and Nagito thought how funny was watching him blushing and frowning at the same time. After a few seconds the limousine came to a stop and Hajime sighed. “Okay…”Nagito widened his smile, triumphant, and turned to his side’s door to open it.“No!” The other snapped, making the white haired boy turn around again, deadpanned. “I’ll do it…”After blinking a few times, he realized Hajime’d opened the door to his side and was waiting for him to come out of the limousine. He couldn’t help chuckling, feeling so pleased that Hajime was still acting as his caretaker, so courteous.He noticed Hajime lifted his hand towards him to help him get off the car, and even though he could do it by himself, it was always a pleasure to have Hajime’s help, who was holding an umbrella so neither of them would get wet.They got to a staircase, Nagito was kind of afraid of his luck yet so he held onto Hajime’s arm for dear life (his luck was only an excuse at this point) and after reaching the top, they got separated a bit. It was time to work.At the entrance door, they both were asked for their names. Obviously, Nagito’d previously claimed that he’d be coming with Hajime and there shouldn’t be any problem with that. No one would ever question anything to him, and he was taking advantage of that too.He could feel kind of confident due to his status, but he still hated it. However, Hajime sure was the one nervous. “What do you have to do here?” He asked as soon as they entered the entrance hall.“It’s some sort of party, I guess…” he never payed attention to this stuff, mostly because it wouldn’t affect him anyways. “I’ll probably be dragged to some conversations, that’s all. You are allowed to have your space, don’t worry.”“I won’t leave you alone. It could be dangerous.” Hajime still had that serious tone of voice, and the white haired boy couldn’t help smiling at that. No matter how much of annoyed he showed to be, Nagito wasn’t affected by that.Hajime had been always like that, and when he softened Nagito thought he was in heaven. Every single of Hajime’s expressions and actions made him who he was, and Nagito simply loved it. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable at all.” He was about to put a hand on Hajime’s shoulder, but the other started to take his coat off.“Stop saying that,” he rolled his eyes. “Give me your coat, I’ll take it to reception.”“I think, Hinata-kun, that you forgot something I told you before,” their distance was closing in. “You’re my partner tonight, there’s no need for you to do this.”For the millionth time, Hajime’s sighed. “I’ll do it because I want to, there’s no other reason than that.” At that answer, Nagito felt his heart give a hard pound on his chest.“But…” his pale green eyes were fixated on the other’s, he couldn’t stop blinking, dumbfounded. But then, he recovered the composure and smiled. “But let me go with you, I don’t want to leave you alone.” And I don’t want to be alone either…Hajime sighed an “okay” and then waited for Nagito to take his coat off. Once he did, the white haired boy lent it to the other. Their hands brushed in the process, and Nagito of course even tried to intertwine their fingers. “Don’t you think you’re being kind of obvious, Komaeda?”Obviously, he blushed. Hajime had to know about his feelings at this rate, or maybe he thought he was joking. Nagito replied with an “I’m sorry” in an attempt to sound a little bit of innocent.It was so funny for him, how Hajime was the only one treating him so direct without any hint of sham in his actions. It was so him, it was unique, but he didn’t deserve it. Nagito wanted everyone to see him just like what he himself was: another human being, just trash.But this kind of parties only reminded him of how society saw him: young and rich. He didn’t have another qualities, it seemed, and that was pretty sad. If that’s all what I am… I am more than trash. He was so happy he’d decided to bring Hajime there, it’d been almost twenty minutes and nobody was coming to talk to him. Most of the people there might had seen him being with Hajime and, well, his seriousness wasn’t inviting at all.It was all so perfect, when he focused his sight on Hajime, he just couldn’t believe it…The clothing Hajime was wearing was Nagito’s. He wanted him to wear the best, and after so much persistence he convinced him.Since both of them were about the same height there shouldn’t have been any problem. However, Nagito was skinnier than Hajime and this showed a lot.He examined Hajime’s body, stopping his gaze at every single detail. He sure had a wonderful body, fabric tightening at his back and arms. His tanned skin, a peculiar shade that made Nagito bite his bottom lip, his messy and spiky dark hair was so ordinary too but it was another point for him ,and what Nagito liked the most…For an instance, Hajime noticed he was being stared at but didn’t say much about that. He just turned his eyes towards Nagito’s and stared for a split second.His eyes. Those were Nagito’s favourites. His hazel colour, so unusual. Fixating his sight on his whole face, some freckles rested on his cheeks but it was pretty sure only someone as close as Nagito would note that. It was just too perfect, he felt like an empty skeleton in front of Hajime. Ready to die in any minute, lifeless in comparison to him… “Are you done yet?” his typical harsh voice shove him back to reality, it seemed like he’d already lost his nervousness.Nagito stepped back and coughed, “Of course… Let’s see what’s out there!” The place was truly huge, and the amount of people in there was getting bigger with the pass of time. There were a few balconies that could have been perfect for Komaeda to stay outside, but it was awfully raining. Plus, the umbrella Hajime brought with himself was now at the reception along with their coats. Maybe his luck was actually acting after all.Nevertheless, he stepped into the rain. It didn’t take long for Hajime to pull him by the wrist, back inside.“What are you doing?” He asked, not sounding concerned at all. In fact, he seemed simply annoyed. But Nagito just smiled, sheepishly. The thing was that he liked being away from everyone, it was such a surprise nobody had wanted to talk to him yet. They were taking so long, this wasn’t normal. But, again, maybe it was Hajime’s presence what was keeping those people away.“I don’t like closed places, that’s why I’d like to get some fresh air,” Nagito said. Not the true, but nor a lie.“It’s raining.”“I know!” his grin was wide, trying to convince Hajime who limited himself to raise an eyebrow. Yeah, he wouldn’t buy it so easily… “Look, Hinata-kun, you could… go somewhere else while I am here, I don’t think anyone would like to get wet just to talk to me, even you.”“You brought me here to be alone?” Hajime shook his head, and the look on his face wasn’t the kind Nagito wanted to see. “Let’s go outside then, Komaeda. The both of us.”But Nagito shook his head. “No, that wouldn’t be good for you.” He was so ashamed, words not coming easily from his mouth. “I’m such a horrible person, Hinata-kun. My apologies, I’m being so selfish right now.”Hajime rolled his eyes, Nagito was so used to that expression yet so scared of getting it as a response. How could he fix it? Maybe he shouldn’t have brought Hajime to this place, none of them felt at home.Home, what a strange thing. What was home for him? What was home for Hajime?He still had the feeling both of them were similar, he believed that this was the only reason why Hajime was still by his side after everything. Because they were alike, they… understood each other, right?But that wasn’t true, only Nagito could read Hajime like a book while the other just kept trying. After so much time, he was still trying.“Hinata-kun,” he started again, wanting to fix things. What if Hajime grew bored of not comprehending him? Would Nagito even handle it?After ignoring him during half of his life, after not wanting to be close to him, he now was paying and his heart ached as if it were on fire. Maybe, in the end, he didn’t understand Hajime either and they both were on the same boat. He couldn’t help smiling, relieved. So many things crossing his mind, he didn’t want to hide them. But, at the same time, he had so many questions he wanted to be answered.“I…” he had to say something, anything, so the awkward atmosphere could finally fade away. His hand moving towards Hajime’s, still not sure if it was the greatest option. However…“Excuse me.”Startled, Nagito turned around to find a young man, probably around his age, staring at him with a cynical look on his face. Oh, so finally people wanted to talk to him, right? They had to come when… well…“You’re Komaeda-kun, aren’t you? I didn’t want to disturb you while you were… talking,” he looked past Nagito’s shoulder, but when Nagito turned his head Hajime was already gone. He should have expected that because, after all, what kind of reason did Hajime have to stay by his side during that situation? He even told him he could have his own space... “But it’s so unusual to find people of our age at this parties. My parents dragged me here.”“It’s bound to happen,” Nagito grinned, it was the first time someone at a party didn’t talk to him about benefits for their companies and those kind of stuff. “I don’t usually see people around our age in this kind of places, it’s such a surprise.”“Really? That’s strange…” the boy had a glass of wine in hand, so he had to be over twenty years old, right? “There’s this guy… he comes from a very important family here in Japan, what was his last name? Oh, right, Togami. He’s not friendly but he’s probably the only one around our age beside us.”“I know.” Nagito nodded, he remembered even trying to talk to that Togami guy once and, well, it didn’t turn out good to his liking.He usually didn’t seem comfortable around anyone from the meetings, they all looked at him as if they wanted him to be dead and, even though he grew accustomed to the feeling, it was kind of annoying sometimes. It sure was his luck’s fault, in the end, he didn’t feel so guilty.In any case, the boy he was talking to right now was different to others. It gave him some relief, a bit of hope. By the way…“May I ask your name?” Komaeda was still being formal at talking, while the other dropped that behaviour as soon as they started the conversation.“Oh, right, my bad,” he chuckled. “I’m Ryunosuke Sawada, nice to meet you.”He extended his hand towards Nagito and he simply returned the gesture, politely. “It’s such a pleasure, Sawada-san.”“So… I know this place by heart, my parents and I have come here before. There’s a nice garden covered by a ceiling over there, wouldn’t it be better to go outside? Seriously, I can’t stand being surrounded by so many people.”“I agree.” Nagito actually screamed. Yes, please, the only thing he wanted to do was to get out of there if it was possible. Plus, while being with this guy, Sawada was his family name, it was highly probable that nobody would come to interrupt him. Things weren’t so bad after all!They reached the garden and, as soon as he put a foot outside, he remembered Hajime. “What are you doing?” “It’s raining.” Even his voice remained the same in his head. He took a look behind him, wondering if Hajime could be there… near him. But he didn’t see anything, disappointment flooding him. Well, he wasn’t obligated to stick to him so, what was the big deal?Leaving hesitations behind, he stepped forward.They remained silent for a few seconds, safe under a ceiling even though they were still outside and the rain was pretty heavy. Its sound was so soothing though, Nagito almost forgot he was still at the party’s building.He felt Sawada’s gaze on him for a split second, and instantly knew he was going to say something. “You won’t drink anything?”Nagito turned to stare at him, eyes focusing for a moment on the glass of wine the other boy had in hand. “Of course not, I can’t drink wine.”“Oh, you then are younger than what I expected,” he chuckled and raised his glass. “So you really are the youngest rich man in Japan, are you aware of that?”Suddenly, Nagito’s polite smile started to fade. So… they were going to talk about him? About how much of “important” he was? It didn’t feel right. “I… I guess?” He was still trying to fake a smile, afraid of it being too obvious.Sawada nodded a few times and stayed silent for some seconds, without taking his eyes off Nagito. “Is that true?”“What?”“About your parents.”Nagito couldn’t help widening his eyes, shocked. Nobody had ever tried to talk about that incident before, maybe because business had nothing to do with plane crashes, but he truly wasn’t expecting that topic coming from a guy like Sawada. He seemed so out of the fancy business world, he thought he wasn’t going to have any problems with him. However, things turned out for the worst and it was his fault. It was his fault because he let the conversation go that far.Again, where was Hajime? He had brought him to that place for a reason after all. However, if he had known beforehand that things would turn out like this, he wouldn’t have left Hajime behind.It all seemed wrong.And so contradictory too.“It’s a really popular story, to be honest, and it’s still a mystery…” Sawada started to draw circles with his finger around the wine glass he had in hand, finally taking his sight off Nagito. “I once was curious and researched a little bit about the case…”“Surprise me then, what did you find out?” Anybody could tell how different Nagito’s voice sounded now. Harsh, sharp, poisonous… He was showing the authority his last name gave him, he was taking advantage of that just to scare the other away, to stop talking about useless things of the past. Why would he want to talk about the exact moment he started living a nightmare?“A lot of interesting things, it’s an honour to discuss them with… you know, one of the main characters of the drama.” Although Nagito thought he could make Sawada stop, it was useless. In fact, he sounded more confident than what Nagito could have expected him to be.“It’s not a drama, it was real,” even though he despised his shitty life, he wouldn’t let anyone say it was a ‘drama’. Wasn’t this thing going a little too far? When did the conversation turn out being so harsh?“It sure was!” Sawada was grinning, though it didn’t feel right at all. “But it’s so unbelievable, in my opinion. That’s why I’d… want you to tell me.”“I don’t want to talk about it. If you don’t want to believe it, just don’t,” Nagito was smiling. “Wasting your time on old stories wouldn’t be worth it. Plus, even someone like me doesn’t have the right to spit the so called truth.”Sawada laughed a little bit. “I just won’t believe it, there must be a… logical explanation, you know.”Luck… that’s it. But Nagito decided to stay quiet this time.“Where’s the logic in a meteorite hitting the hijacker’s head, killing everyone in the plane…” Sawada closed the distance between them, yet Nagito didn’t even waver a little bit. “Killing everyone but you…”“What are you implying?” Dry swallowing, Nagito gave a few steps back. The door to go back inside wasn’t near anymore, they kept stepping farther and farther from it. Probably Sawada wanted it that way, Nagito couldn’t feel any more foolish. “Don’t you believe in luck?”“Luck?” he laughed, again. “Everything about that story seems to come out from a sci-fi movie. I’d call it ‘Money and Murder’, what do you think?”“Again, what are you implying?” Nagito couldn’t step back anymore, he was against a damn wall.“Don’t be stupid. No, actually, don’t act like you were stupid,” Sawada’s look was serious, harsh. Both of his hands were tugged in the pockets of his pants, he straightened up a little bit, still being a bit shorter than Nagito at height, and without any hint of doubt he talked again. “You are the one behind you parents’ death.” It had been a nightmare. A real one. And it was still a nightmare. Still a real one. Nagito couldn’t stop blinking, dumbfounded. Seriously, when did the conversation take that evil turn?He was paralyzed, unable to even utter a word. What was he supposed to do? Run? Well, he didn’t have much room to move anyway since he was trapped against the wall. Great idea, thinking that he would get to know nice people at one of those hellish parties. Great, he was the same stupid kid he had always been. More trash than all that trash surrounding him, completely useless.Not even being able to escape, he decided to just close his eyes and wait for the other boy to fade away, as if he had only been in his imagination. It wouldn’t work but, seriously, there wasn’t anything else he could do.Until…“What the fuck are you doing?” a voice, that voice… His voice. Nagito didn’t hesitate and opened his eyes, was it real? It certainly should have, since even Sawada turned around because of it. “Step back… now.”If Nagito had been feeling relieved, he would have probably smiled at that demanding tone of voice used by his favourite person. But now, he was simply wordless. “Hinata…”“Who the hell are you?” At least Sawada wasn’t staring at Nagito anymore. He lifted his chin, arrogant.“It’s none of your business,” without any hint of doubt, Hajime got closer. “Leave him alone. You two shouldn’t be here after all.” As soon as Hajime’s gaze met Nagito’s, the latter couldn’t help but feeling more ashamed than he already was. How foolish, Hajime should be really disappointed of his behaviour.“You won’t tell me what to do, besides…” Sawada turned around, facing Nagito again, “is he your accomplice or something like that?”“Shut… up…” Nagito closed his eyes again and shook his head, he didn’t want to bring that topic anymore. He was so tired of it, so tired of the nightmare.“Accomplice?” But, well, Hajime didn’t know anything about that. “What the fuck are you saying?”His tone of voice, so harsh, it only sounded like that when Hajime was angry. Nagito wasn’t accustomed to it. In fact, he was really surprised about it. “Don’t listen to him, Hianta-kun. There’s nothing to worry about, he’s just mad.” He only wanted to convince himself about that, even though he didn’t feel right at all. Nagito waved his hands in front of him, a really fake smile forming accompanied with an equally fake laugh escaping his lips. What an idiot…“Mad? Me?” Sawada laughed and pointed his index finger towards Nagito. “You are the one mad here. Coming up with completely fictional stories to cover up how you really planned killing your parents so you would gain the inheri—““Stop!” it was a split moment, Hinata grabbing that accusatory hand Sawada was using to point at Nagito and pulling him away from there. “Who the fuck do you think you are!? Go away, you have nothing to do with us.”“Us?” Sawada regained his stability, smile not fading from his face. ”Oh, I didn’t know I could’ve brought my servant with me tonight too.”“He’s not a… servant…” Nagito couldn’t look straight at anyone’s faces, was his luck playing with him again?“I won’t believe any of you trashy words, preppy boy.” Sawada’s words hit Nagito so hard, he wasn’t expecting anybody to bring him down that easily. Why… why was that happening? He didn’t deserve it, or…Maybe he actually did. He was a complete trash, after all.Sawada didn’t waver to look at Hinata, both of their gazes serious and sharp. “Don’t you acknowledge you’re this murderer’s accomplice?”“The only murderer here will be me if you don’t shut the fuck—“It didn’t take long. In fact, it took less than a second. Hajime was about to punch that awful boy in his awful face, Nagito’s eyes widened and stepped forward just to make sure Hajime didn’t do anything wrong. However, Sawada stopped his fist and pulled out what looked like a knife from the pockets of his pants. At this, he gave Nagito a glare he would probably never forget.What? He would murder him right away? What a relief, giving an end to his miserable life, an end to his luck curse. He had to admit that he wasn’t scared for him, but… Hajime. No. Not now. He stifled a cry, afraid of the worst. Not his death, but Hajime’s…Was he going to be gone just like everything he appreciated and loved?Not again, not now. Couldn’t his luck wait a little bit longer?Even though Sawada was armed and they weren’t, it didn’t stop Hajime it seemed. Nagito wanted to close his eyes, but he had hope and this was what kept him watching.Even though they world was falling into pieces, he wouldn’t stop having hope.Hajime didn’t hesitate, he grabbed the knife from the other’s hand and took it from him. It wasn’t that easy though, blood didn’t take long to cover the palm of his hand.Obviously, how was he supposed to grab the knife if the other was holding it by the handle? There was no other choice, he grabbed it from the blade and threw it as far as possible when he had the opportunity.Yet, Sawada’s face didn’t show any hint of fear. He was clearly annoyed and Nagito was afraid he still had any kind of other weapon left.“Go away right now. We won’t tell anyone about this, but fucking disappear from here.” Hinata’s voice was shaky, Nagito could tell. He was afraid Sawada wouldn’t give a damn about his words but, in the end, he just lifted his chin and gave another piercing glare at Nagito before slowly going back inside the building.“One day, everybody will know.” were his last words.Only the rain and Sawada’s steps could be heard for a couple of seconds. Hajime kept his eyes closed and Nagito simply hugged himself, staring at the ground.It was quiet, wasn’t it? It seemed that none of them knew what to do next.Even so, Hajime started walking. “We’re getting out of here, now.”Nagito raised his head, finding the other boy was already getting into the building. He started following, not having any other option left.However, he wanted to say something, anything. “But, Hinata-kun…”He chuckled a little bit, nervous, and quickly reached to be at Hajime’s side.“I mean… the party had just started and—“ he cut his own words off as soon as he saw Hajime’s hand, the right one, full of blood coming from his closed fist.And Hajime noticed Nagito’s stare because he, finally, decided to give him a look. “And?”“Never mind…” the white haired boy shook his head and shrugged.Then they continued walking, without uttering even a single word. When they arrived at the great hall again, Nagito though he would get so many glares at once that he would even fall sick because of that. However, it didn’t turn out like that. Hajime covered his hand so nobody noticed he was awfully bleeding a few moments ago, Nagito tried not to think too much about that and, hopefully, not to make any eye contact with anyone. Gossip would rise in the end, of course. Nagito Komaeda leaving an important meeting just like that? He wouldn’t escape the fate of people wanting to know more about that in the future. However, at least, nobody seemed to notice his presence at the moment, so unusual.What a relief. It could have been the quietest meeting he had ever been in, but he had to ruin it.He was so selfish, so stupid… just like all the other people there.In the end, he was just like them. Trash.He was so sorry about everything, not even being able to look at Hajime’s face. It was so awful, since he brought him here because he wanted to show him everything would be fine?In the end, what was Hajime’s purpose there? How many times had he already asked himself that question that night?Nagito didn’t want to be alone, he brought Hajime not to be alone but, in the end, he was the one leaving the other behind.What an idiot.However, he also wanted to show Hajime how painful was to be one of the most important people there. He wanted to show it by getting involved in conversations he didn’t want to have, and being completely busy during the meeting with things he didn’t care at all.But, in the end, he was dragged into a conversation he wanted to have and everything turned out being worse than what he expected.It all turned out worse but, fortunately, things weren’t that bad.Hajime was injured, not dead.…Was he expecting Hajime’s death?He was waiting for it since the day he met him, but it never happened. And at this point, it even seemed unlikely to happen.…Nagito didn’t know how to feel about that, what was he supposed to do? Hajime was injured, maybe he wouldn’t die but he would just… leave by himself? That would be the best idea ever. Even though the simple though of Hajime leaving him was unbearable, Nagito wouldn’t keep him unhappy. He reminded himself the same thing every single day, from the moment he woke up until he went to sleep.He grew up knowing Hajime would leave somehow: or by himself, or because of Nagito’s damn luck. But… Staying? That thought didn’t have room in Nagito’s mind.After getting their coats back, Hajime still incredibly hiding his wound, they exited the building. Again, it wasn’t difficult to leave since nobody would deny something like that to Nagito Komaeda.It was still raining, but by staying under the entrance’s ceiling they wouldn’t get wet.“I’ll call the limousine.” Hajime’s cold words made Nagito shiver, he only managed to nod. But, worried, he gave a quick look to the other’s hand while he was holding the phone, typing. The wound, the cut, seemed so awful even though it wasn’t bleeding anymore.“Hinata-kun… your hand,” he returned his gaze to the ground.“I know,” he could feel Hajime’s stare on him, while he was putting the phone back into his coat. “What was I supposed to do?”“Leave me die, I think.” Nagito laughed, as if he just told the funniest joke in the world, then he put both of his hands into the pockets of his coat, it was cold outside.“it’s not funny,” Hajime sighed. “And that guy wouldn’t have killed anyone, you know? He was just… pissed off, and such an idiot.”“I know, I get people mad so easily. My life is such a nonsense to them, they hate me and… I think it’s great.”“You don’t deserve it.”Nagito raised an eyebrow and, finally, turned his head to look at Hajime’s face. He had his arms crossed while he was leaning against the wall, and it seemed that he was still annoyed. It had to be expected, after everything…He then turned to stare at Nagito back. “It’s not your fault.”“You can’t know that,” Nagito shrugged. “I mean, you weren’t there when my parents died. You can’t know if I really was the murderer or not, nobody can know that.”“You didn’t kill them, it was…” Hajime rolled his eyes. “Forget it.”“See? You can’t defend me,” Nagito leaned against the wall too and lifted his gaze to stare at the ceiling. "I can say that it was my luck, but who would believe that? It’s just like Sawada-san said... It’s fictional.”“I don’t think so…”Nagito didn’t believe in Hajime, his comforting words wouldn’t work this time. His life was a nightmare, and only he himself could know about that because he was the one living it. Hajime only “believed” in him so Nagito wouldn’t feel alone, but that kind of pity was the worst.“I still don’t understand you, you know,” Hajime talked again. “But… I’ll get to do it one day. I believe in your luck after all, because I’ve seen a lot of things while being with you...”Hajime was smiling, Nagito could tell by the melody of his voice now. He couldn’t help smiling too. However… “Why are you with me, anyways?”“Hm?”The good time of the conversation didn’t last long. “I mean, after all the bad things you’ve seen you’re still here. Nobody would put their life in danger the way you do, it’s not okay you know?”Silence.“I wonder… why do you stay with me? I think about it all the time, Hinata-kun.” Instead of feeling his cheeks warm, like it always happened, he felt a knot in his stomach that didn’t feel right when he was talking. “I think about… What do you want from me? Every single person by my side always wants something from me, because I have it all, haven’t I?”“Komaeda, no… I want nothing from you.” Hajime’s frown didn’t show anger as usual. In fact, it seemed to be so full of emotions this time.“Can I ask you a question?” Nagito inquired, as if he didn’t hear the other’s words. When he looked back at Hajime again, trying his best to keep a composed and emotionless expression on his face, he received a nod as an answer and, even though he found it difficult, he continued talking… “If this hadn’t been your job, would you have stayed with me? Would you have hurt yourself for me?”Again, silence. It was something like a final question, the definitive one. His eyes hurt, his chest ached, and all of this just because he was acting like he didn’t care at all, he was trying to keep everything inside and it hurt. He always acted like he didn’t care at all, because he cared too much and it didn’t feel right.He dry swallowed, knowing that maybe silence was the best answer. “I guess I know what you think then. It must be hard to have a job where you have to take care of someone like me. To risk your life by just being by my side. I understand it’s difficult. I can pay you with any amount of money you want if you decide to leave… it’d be the best, after all.”“Don’t you realize, Komaeda?” it really surprised him, how Hajime stepped to be just in front of him. Their eyes met, a piercing stare which left Nagito breathless. “If I want to go away I can do it, If want another job I can look for one anytime. But… I can’t let myself go away and leave you alone.”“Why is that?” Nagito couldn’t help laughing a little.“I’ve been by your side basically all my life, Komaeda…”“So you’re just used to it? It’s okay, Hinata-kun, nothing lasts forever. You don’t have to be tied up to me your entire life…”Nagito didn’t even hesitate, he grabbed Hajime’s wounded hand and pressed it onto his cheek. He could smell the metallic odour of blood, but the touch still felt warm and that was what he needed the most at the moment.“You deserve so much better, Hinata-kun… You’re still on time to choose the right path.”“You deserve as much as anyone else, I can’t leave.”Nagito didn’t know if Hajime was caressing his cheeks with his thumb because he just wanted to do it or because tears started to escape unwillingly from his flooded eyes.“I know you’re afraid…”“Anything can happen to you, anytime. Aren’t you afraid of that too?” Although he felt awfully stupid because of the way he felt, although he was opening up a little too much to be safe, he couldn’t stop talking. Hajime’s face showed concerned, and a bit of sadness too. It was the first time they both showed so much weakness. Maybe, in the end, Hajime understood he could be hurt around him, right?“Nothing bad happened to me because of you. I mean, my parents died because they were sick and you have nothing to do with it.” Nagito looked away and shrugged, it was pretty unsure if his luck had been behind that situation or not. “And today… look, that guy was an asshole and I just… I should have stayed with you.”“Why did you go away then?”“I didn’t.” Hajime looked down, he seemed disappointed. However, Nagito’s eyes widened, dumbfounded, and he couldn’t help squishing the other’s hand a little bit.“What do you mean you didn’t?”“When you started to talk with that guy I thought… That maybe I didn’t have to stay there but, I don’t know, I wanted to know what you two would talk about too. I tried to tell myself ‘it can’t be as awful as what Komaeda shows it to be’”“You listened to everything.”“I did. And when things started to sound wrong… you know.”He was there. He had been there the whole time. But this only made Nagito go back to the last topic. “You could have let me die or, at least, pay for my stupidity.”“No, I should have stayed with you… In the end I paid for not being there. See? It has nothing to do with your luck.” He… he had a point. A weird point of view for Nagito, who couldn’t see beyond his luck cycle.“Anyways, Hinata-kun, you’re not safe.” But it wasn’t enough to convince him.“Why? Haven’t you heard me or what?” He found a moment to return his hand back to place, but Nagito grabbed it again, intertwining fingers.“I’m helpless, Hinata-kun.” Again, the knot in his stomach made him froze but he could keep on talking. “From the bottom of my heart, I love you. You give me so much hope, you are there to remind me that my luck doesn’t ruin everything I touch, but at the same time I can’t help being afraid of losing you.”He closed his eyes, hoping his words wouldn’t reach anything bad. Maybe this time Hajime really would leave him? Maybe that was what his luck was waiting for too. Hajime being gone so despair would take place in his life again and luck didn’t even have to work for that happening.But, after a few seconds, Hajime’s forehead pressed onto his. Blood boiling in his veins, heart pumping fast as he was lost in the touch, lost in the warmth.“Hinata—““Stop being afraid. Even if your luck is real… you deserve to be happy too, and fear won’t take you anywhere.”“Are you even happy?” Nagito couldn’t help smiling a little bit, not knowing how to feel about anything, and Hajime rolled his eyes.“I’ll be the day you stop being afraid.” He was caressing the curly white locks of Nagito’s hair and he could swear that it was the first time he felt truly at ease.“So you’re by my side because you want to prove me wrong?”“I’m here because I want to, and because I’m not afraid…. unlike you.”Nagito nodded and, maybe… just maybe, Hajime was right. Maybe he was letting his luck control him, maybe he wasn’t as trashy as not to deserve happiness. And… did this mean Hajime didn’t mind he loved him?He didn’t seem to mind at all though. As soon as their foreheads got separated, it seemed like the space between them was already too much. They found themselves with their mouths itching for contact, ready to press onto each other. Ready to feel and stop being afraid…However, the sound of a car arriving near the place told them it was time to go. But it didn’t mean it was the end.They got separated, Hajime opened the umbrella, carefully grabbed Nagito’s arm and started walking towards the limousine.“It’s still your job.” Nagito started, not even caring he said it out loud.“You don’t have to pay me to be by your side, I told you.”That confirmation made him laugh, he was expecting an answer like that. In fact, he was expecting anything good from now on.They got into the limousine, and as soon as it started moving Nagito was brought back to a few hours ago: sitting at the back, next to Hajime and staring at the window full of raindrops.However, this time it was different. He was snapped out of his thoughts as soon as Hajime’s hand reached for his. He was really surprised, quickly turning to see him. He was staring at the window too, but his hand was completely focusing on caressing Nagito’s. The white haired boy couldn’t help smiling and played with their brushing fingers.What was good about limousines was that they gained some privacy since the driver was away from them and couldn’t see anything that was happening in the back. That kind of privacy was really comforting. Nagito wasn’t ashamed of Hajime, of course, but the situation was still embarrassing for him.“Hinata-kun…” he leaned closer, cheeks burning.“Yeah?” the other finally turned around, finding Nagito practically stuck to him.He was still caressing Hajime’s hand, it was the right one, and it felt kind of weird with the cut in the middle. Even so, he couldn’t help caressing it. “Does it hurt?”The look on Nagito’s face showed innocence, and Hajime would probably buy it at this point. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t.”Nagito smiled and took the other’s hand to press it onto his cheek, again.“Why do you do that?” Hajime laughed, while the white haired boy kept his eyes closed, lost in the moment.“It’s warm… I like it…” slowly his eyes opened, staring at Hajime with a pleading expression. God, he had never felt this safe with anyone else before. What if it was too much? He still had some hints of doubt wandering in his mind. But, for once, he wanted to think things weren’t going to go bad, for once… he wanted to be allowed to be happy.Hajime stifled a laugh and, kind of hesitantly, cupped Nagito’s cheeks with now both hands. Nagito felt his heart gave a jump when he saw Hajime leaning forward. They were so close that their noses touched, it was kind of embarrassing so he surely had blushed. And after what seemed like an eternity, Hajime took a deep breath and carefully pressed his lips onto Nagito’s.That was what a kiss felt like, right?It was what happiness should feel then too. He was probably smiling in between the brush of their mouths, Hajime probably noticed that too. But he couldn’t help it, for the first time he was feeling safe.He found safety in his arms, he found what freedom felt like.And it didn’t matter if it would last or not, he wouldn’t think about consequences anymore.For once, his nightmare would have a source of light. A source of hope.
10236182	You were red and you	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov, Yuri Plisetsky, Mila Babicheva, Georgi Popovich, Yakov Feltsman", "Fandom": "Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by JustBeHappy", "chapters": "2/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-14T00:00:00", "words": "2,187", "Additional Tags": "Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Miscommunication, Post Season 1, A more pessimistic take on Season 2 I am sorry", "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 }	[ Victor Nikiforov lands in fourth place at Skate America ] [ Victor Nikiforov trips into fourth. Is this the end of the reign of the Living Legend of Russia? ] [ This is a bad start for Victor Nikiforov. Will this season be his last? ] [ Is Victor Nikiforov stressed? ] [ Katsuki Yuuri wins gold at NHK Trophy - Has Victor Nikiforov been spending so much time on him that he starts to lose his touch? ] [ Is Katsuki Yuuri using Victor Nikiforov? ] [ Coach Yakov Feltsman of Russia refuses to give a statement. ] [ Victor Nikiforov skips gala exhibition at Skate America after ending up in fourth. ] Read More... *Born to Ship Victuuri @victuuri_fcHere's the deal: Victor's performance at Skate America was beautiful. No one can convince us otherwise. Ganbatte Vitya!!! ♡♡♡ @v_nikiforov Pairs of Skates @skater-skating-skatesUmmmm, you sure? He totally bombed it. It was dreadful. Born to Ship Victuuri @victuuri_fc @skater-skating-skates Go away. We weren't talking to you. Snowflakes @icequeen-vanya Here's the deal: Katsuki Yuuri totes is responsible for this. This is a solid proof that the entire coach thing is not working. Born to Ship Victuuri @victuuri_fc La la la la la la can't hear you Vacations bring it on @sandysky Yeah right! THE PERFORMANCE WAS GREAT YOU CAN DO BETTER VITYA! <3333333 Pairs of Skates @skater-skating-skates Hmph I stand by my argument. StrawberryBlonde @country-musician Yeah right. I am a diehard Victor Nikiforov fan, but I must admit the performance was bad. He's just stressed, people. Cut it out. Stop complaining. Snowflakes @icequeen-vanya @country-musician This is what I'm talking about. He's stressed because he is coaching and competing. It sucks so much. Beatrice Bears @teddyyyyybear All the Victor's fans should be mad lol. I am. Looking at you too, @katsukiyuuri_fc aren't you guys ashamed? Quad Flipped @vnikiforov_fc President of the Victor Nikiforov fan club here. Good try, but we aren't. Deal with it bro. @teddyyyyybear Quad Flipped @vnikiforov_fc Vice-President of the Victor Nkiforov fan club here. Don't listen to them we love you. @katsukiyuuri_fc Quad Flipped @vnikiforov_fc We represent most of the Victor Nikiforov fans btw. Victor is stressed, but that doesn't mean anything. He looked ill, in fact. >:[ Quad Flipped @vnikiforov_fc Secretary of the Victor Nikiforov fan club here. Stop blaming everything on Yuuri. He's having a tough time too. Candy Canes @sugarholic Oh, scaryyy. Tell you what, I am a Victor Nikiforov fan too and I am not happy with this. * ' Yuuri! Don't look at the news,' Mila said, plucking the phone out of Yuuri's hand. ' The reporters are silly, and that's all you need to care about. Trust me. It's going to get better.' She glared pointedly at Georgi, and on the cue, the Russian skater switched off the television. Yurio crossed his arms over his chest, his lips pursed. He wasn't going to make a witty or acidic remark or anything, and it was very unlike him. To say Victor's FS went badly was an understatement. He seemed to be so tired and shrunken before the official warm-up, and right when he stepped on the ice, everyone could see that something was off. The step sequence was a little bit lacklustre, he over-rotated three of his jump passes and nearly missed his signature Quad Flip. This was a big deal for his supporters, because he never missed his Quad Flip publicly since he first ratified it. At the Kiss and Cry, he looked so small in his red and white jacket, leaning on Yakov for support. Yakov seemed to be muttering softly to himself, and avoided looking at the cameras. When the judges dished him his less than satisfactory scores (that was probably the lowest he got in 5 years), he had this resigned expression on his face. Was that disappointment? Sadness? Dejectedness? Yuuri had no idea. But the guilt was just clawing away at his chest because god, Victor didn't deserve this. The live stream cut to the medal ceremony, and the three medalists accepted their medals with dismayed expressions because none of them had expected the outcome of the competition to be like this. Otabek held up his gold medal with a frown, still confused. Victor was nowhere to be seen. Yakov told the reporters that he had returned to the hotel to take a rest and he wouldn't be attending the gala. How did everything lead up to this? It probably started when Victor showed up at Yutopia, claiming that he would be his coach while taking a season off. In the end, Yuuri got a silver medal under his tutelage, and Victor announced that he would be returning to competitive figure skating AND being Yuuri's coach. When they danced around on the ice, Victor in magenta, Yuuri in blue and the rink lit up in a brilliant lilac colour, Yuuri really thought everything was going to work out. Well, it did. Partially. He got a gold medal at the NHK Trophy. And Victor bombed his own GPF qualifier. Fourth place wasn't bad in a normal skater's standards, but it was definitely not good in Victor's standards. Especially when everyone was focusing on his return to the skating, and he had disappointed them hard. Rumours were already starting up like wildfire, about how Victor was starting to get old. 28 years old was way beyond a competitive figure skater's prime. Some speculated that this season would be Victor Nikiforov's downfall and frankly speaking, it wouldn't be pretty. Ultimately, he might be forced into retirement bathed in shame or due to an injury. The Living Legend wasn't the Living Legend anymore. More vindictive theories came from the resentful fans, saying that the Japanese skater was just using Victor for his own benefit and was going to throw him away after getting what he wanted. Even though the forever cheerful Victuuri fan club tried to cleave and chase down these 'biased' accusations, these theories skyrocketed. Or some began to say that Victor Nikiforov was spending way too much time on Katsuki Yuuri, and he was neglecting his own programs for him. Anyways, they started to blame him for diverting Victor's attention and stealing their national hero away from them once again. Some of the more hopeful ones argued that he was just feeling under the weather, and he would make an extraordinary comeback at the Rostelecom Cup to get himself into the Finals. Minority of the fans believed that Victor Nikiforov was doing this so Katsuki Yuuri could win. Or some cheating was involved. They were pretty convinced this was what had happened, and complained about the lack of sportsmanship. Yuuri would prefer to side with most of them, even though they were against him. He would rather die than say that Victor was starting to get old and lose his touch. If that was true, he was most likely the culprit. And the fact that the Victuuri fan club (notably the Victor Nikiforov section) was having a major Twitter war with the others and defending him at the same time made him feel even worse. He had somehow dragged his beloved fans into this entire mess too. Especially the remaining Victor Nikiforov fans that were so dedicated. He knew the presidents of the Victuuri fan club, and he knew they were usually not so baleful. But they were kicking off people from their ranks that disagreed with them at such an alarming rate that Yuuri felt really bad. Being a competitor and a coach at the same time taxed Victor's strength, and there was a limit to multitasking. Everyone knew this. Especially when he had to run back and forth from one event to the other, sponsor meetings, trainings and then compete again. The world must have hated Yuuri for stealing the Living Legend from the ice. It was almost selfish of him to keep Victor. Victor knew how to skate since he could walk. Ice was his life. And Yuuri had taken that away from him too. Maybe Victor blamed him and secretly wanted to quit too, hah. ' Earth to Yuuri,' Mila said, breaking him out of his pit of self-blame. Yurio was staring at him, his bright green eyes wide. Georgi squeaked like a terrified mouse. The Russian National Team. They were so nice to him, but Yuuri had caused them so much disappointment. They deserved their glorious Skating Living Legend back. He could only imagine how disappointed and hurt the three skaters plus Yakov were to know that their top skater wasn't in his best form anymore. They probably hated him for this. ' Katsudon, don't listen to them,' Yurio said carefully. Lies. ' Yeah, Yuuri, we are all here for you,' Georgi said. Lies. He didn't deserve such kindness. ' It's not your fault,' Mila added anxiously. ' Being fourth is not the end of the world.' Lies lies lies. Bla bla bla. ' I... Am going out,' Yuuri stood up automatically, ignoring all three of them. ' Katsudon-' Yurio began. He ran away into the cold before Yurio could catch up to him. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- The wind was harsh and unforgiving, but Yuuri couldn't stop walking. He only paused once to adjust the hood of his jacket. Fortunately none of the passers-by recognised him, or else that would be really awkward. Great. He had nowhere else to go to. He had just returned to his, er, shared apartment and retrieved his belongings, because he felt like he should be staying away from the skaters for some time.Even if his next qualifier would be approaching soon. He wasn't even sure if he had the energy to skate and everyone would be glaring at him. At least the haters would be. And he wasn't able to look at them in the face after what had happened. Fortunately Makkachin was dozing off at the corner, and he was able to sneak out without the poodle running to him. It hurt him to leave Makka. His phone buzzed for the umpteenth time and he fished it out from his coat pocket. He had 54 missed calls from Yurio, 56 messages from Mila, 49 messages from Georgi. Were they trying to call him and mock him? And he hated to imagine what would happen when Victor returned to St.Petersburg. He would probably be so mad at him. He switched off his phone. He didn't want anyone to look for him. So, again... Where to stay? He spotted a hotel at the end of the street, and though, okay. I can stay there until I sort everything out. I can't figure things out like this. Fortunately the middle-aged woman at the counter didn't recognise him, and she gave him the room keys with a comforting smile. At last, when he closed the door of his room behind him, he sank down to the floor and began to sob. If he stayed away from Victor, maybe he would get better. He could win again. The Living Legend would be back. But God, it hurt. *** ' Dang it! He isn't answering my calls!' Yurio gritted his teeth, poking furiously at his phone. ' I've been calling him for the past freaking hour!!!! Where is he?!' Mila slammed her phone onto the table, ' We have to go look for him! He just ran off like that.' ' We don't even know where he headed for,' Georgi said, troubled. ' He just... Yeah. Ran off.' ' We need to find him, quick! God knows what he is trying to do right now... With Victor ending up in fourth place like this. He's probably going to blame himself for it,' Mila stood up abruptly. ' And Yuuri had just won a gold medal himself too.' Yurio nodded stiffly, ' Yeah. I think he thinks we blame him. Worse, he thinks Victor hates him. He tends to think everything is his fault. Did you see those stupid comments online? It's getting worse and worse. I swear to God I am going to bash them to a pulp for daring to insult Katsudon like this. Someone complain to the admins! I am suing them!' ' We will never EVER blame him,' Tears came to Georgi's eyes. ' He's part of the Skate Family!' ' I know,' Mila sighed. ' But did you see his face at the end of the program? He looks shattered. We should have switched off the television back then! Why didn't I switch it off?!' Yurio grabbed his jacket decisively from the back of the chair, ' Tell this to him when we find him. Let's go, Mila. We'll look everywhere. The apartment, the market and even Lilia's studio.' Mila asked worriedly, ' What if we can't find him? What will we say to Victor, oh God! He will be back tomorrow! With Yakov! How are we supposed to explain this to Yakov?' ' This is why we need to find Katsudon before Victor comes back. We need to make everything right,' Yurio was already pushing open the door. ' Well, what are you waiting for you idiots?! Come on!!! We have a friend to find. I'll go look at Lilia's studio.' ' Right after you,' Mila followed him. ' I am checking out the apartment.' ' And I will be looking for him at the neighbourhood,' Georgi said. ' Call me when you find him.'
10268834	Cartography	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Les Misérables - All Media Types", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by standalone", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "2,840", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - Politics, Alternate Universe - Race Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Museums", "Relationship": "Enjolras/Grantaire", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Fucking Political Bullshit exR Coffeeshop AU", "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 }	Cartography “Oh, come on,” Grantaire fidgets when Enjolras insists on buying a round in his honor. “It’s not like it’s some kind of save-the-world shit. It’s not like it’s fucking meaningful.”“It seems to me,” ‘Ferre muses, saluting him with his glass, “that as ‘save-the-world shit’ has come to occupy most of your free time, you can probably spare your for-pay hours for something less momentous.” “What the hell are you even talking about?” Courf demands. “Art’s momentous. It’s... it’s... it’s essential, man.”Grantaire’s new job is at a museum. Not at the ticket-booth. Not shooing handsy visitors away from the statues. It’s in the collections. Inventorying, tagging, labeling. Discussing art with arty people. Figuring out what goes where, with what, and what other museums have that would complement it, and how to lend and borrow and preserve and present, because art is culture and culture is what makes humans human. Right?It’s the first job where he’s gone a whole day without handling other people's money. Actually, scratch that. One of his first tasks today was to process the intake of a small collection of assignats and coins from the French Revolution. So he did handle those, but reverently, under the attentive observation of his new supervisor, and through archivists’ nitrile gloves.Fuck it. He held them in his hand—little metal trinkets that sucked him hundreds of years into the past, to when they were part of some other person’s normal day-to-day life while they earned wages and bought beer and watched the world completely fucking transmute itself around them. He’s not sure what to make of it, and it’s not going to save the world, but it means something.Enjolras hands Musichetta his card, because he’s scrupulous about that. He’s got the money, and if he keeps his boozing paid up, ‘Chetta can afford to extend a few more beers on credit to the folks who can’t keep up with their tab. Then he leans against R’s side, drapes an arm around his shoulder, and with the other, lifts his glass slightly.It shouldn’t shock him that Enjolras knows him so well already. That’s just what Enjolras does. He figures things out. He figures people out. He’s not always right, but he’s so fucking determined that sometimes ‘right’ doesn’t really matter.So anyway, Enjolras knows Grantaire’s not going to be able to handle the pressure of a big speech or some shit like that, because if Enjolras starts in on praising him, R’s going to need to publicly besmirch himself to balance the universal scales, and that’s just not the night he’s after.Today was good.Today was really good. And Enjolras is just lifting that glass toward him a little, over the scarred old wood of the bar, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to let his clink against it and take a gulp. Enjolras is grinning at him. Enjolras doesn’t grin, not much, but when he does, it’s like a fireworks factory on fire—blinding and alluring and dangerous as all fucking hell. “What?” R demands, rougher than he actually means.“You look happy.”“Oh, fuck off,” Grantaire says, and leans in to kiss him.Jehan arrives and insists that everyone drink boilermakers in honor of Grantaire’s new gainful employ, and Grantaire is both touched by the gesture and deeply perplexed, because he has never in his life known Jehan to drink at all, and starting with boilermakers seems like a fairly steep learning curve.Except it turns out Jehan actually just wants to sip at a glass of club soda and watch everyone else pound some alcohol. “Why?” Enjolras asks plaintively, looking beautifully flushed from the double-hit of whiskey and beer. You can see every drink in Enjolras’s face. This is another of the many many things Grantaire likes about Enjolras’s face.Jehan smiles. “‘Boilermaker’ is a wonderfully evocative name, isn’t it? I’ve always wondered what would arrive if I ordered one.”Enjolras shakes his head and chuckles. Grantaire offers him his seat, since the bar is pretty crowded by now, but Enjolras likes to stand.“Work okay?” Grantaire asks.“Yeah, for sure. You know how Celia keeps a stack of letters for Lamarque to read? Ones the rest of us think she should see, so she knows what’s up with her constituency, you know? And she reads them when she can, and tells me what to write back, and sometimes there’s a story there she wants to use, on the Hill or in her speeches, and she wants to know more. So today, she emails me a bunch of pics from the letters she brought with her on the plane, says, ‘Follow up, I want a speech on this.’ And it’s all ACA stories. Sick kids and pregnant women and Medicare recipients and vets with PTSD, and I spend the day on the phone, talking to these people, getting their stories. “There’s this kid, Hadley, she had a liver transplant when she was four, and...”It wasn’t the righteous fury that first drew him to Enjolras. Neither was it the exquisite perfection of his every physical feature, although that’s maybe part of it. It was this shit. This caring shit. Even when he thinks he’s lost his will, Enjolras will always give all the fucks.“...out of pocket, and her mom put Hadley on the phone, and this kid, Grantaire, she—”“What you drinking?” Musichetta breaks in.Enjolras likes Musichetta enough not to be irritated that she’s interrupting him.Grantaire gets behind-the-counter life well enough to understand that this is the first moment in the last half hour that Musichetta hasn’t been pouring drinks, settling up tabs, or clearing away empties to make room for the worknight crowds. Even now, she’s wiping clean glasses dry with a dishtowel while she waits for an answer.“Whatever’s in front of me,” he says, and she laughs. “Congrats on the new gig. Beer on the house?”He could go for another beer, sure. Let’s be honest: Grantaire could go for another beer at literally any time in his adult life, and probably some earlier points, too.“Nah,” he says. “Thanks, but I’m good.”“Really?” Enjolras is too surprised. “You’re sure you don’t want to stick around for another?”“Yeah,” Grantaire says. “Wanna stop for tacos on the way to your place?”“Later, guys,” ‘Chetta says, collecting a dollar-fifty tip from further down the bar. She tosses the quarters in the air before pocketing them. The clink reminds Grantaire of the dark, vast memory storage space where he now gets to work. All those thousands of labeled shelves, each item tagged with only a few fragmentary parts of its story.It’s reassuring to know that art can live on, with distance. We don’t need to know about the slobs and pedants and fools who stood on the sidelines and watched history crack open like infinite nesting eggs. We don’t need to hear their names or their irresolute and crude tales; the art that survives preserves them, in its shadows and in its vacancies, in the obvious winnowing of humanity that must happen for us to even begin to consider the long slender vortex of collective memory.*The position said Bachelor’s degree required. Enjolras made him apply anyway.Back at Enjolras’s place, full and warm, he sits on the couch with a mind full of strange new thoughts, tempered by the gentling familiarity of just a little weed.He’s been smoking too much the last few weeks. He knows it, and that makes him kind of anxious, but then, the anxious is what gets him smoking in the first place. He was ready to fuck up. He told himself he was ready, at least. But if you tell yourself you’re ready to fail, why even get worked up about it in the first place?He kicks back on the sofa, hands locked behind his head and brain spinning out over the collections, the plans that his team, this group of professional people he’s suddenly, inexplicably part of, outlined at their afternoon meeting, the long-term and short-term goals, the places he can fit in. At the other end of the couch, Enjolras is bent over his computer clacking out what’s probably an update for the senator. They start at a thousand words or so, and end up at one hundred, every word chosen to do the work of ten. Enjolras respects his boss’s time.Grantaire’s not really the kind of person who takes notes in words. It’s not how he learned about art—or about anything, really. He learns by looking at things, reading about them, finding connections, asking why, finding more connections, and never really being satisfied that those connections aren’t just his brain fucking with itself, trying to let artistic interpretation gloss over the rough transitions of actual life. It happens inside him, is the point. His ideas stew and simmer and sometimes boil over, angry and violent, but he’s never really considered what it would mean to just let them out whenever he felt like it, and to know people would listen.Enjolras listens, obviously. That’s how he knew to tell Grantaire about the job in the first place. He knows how Grantaire sees the world. Enjolras closes his computer with a decisive click. “Bed,” he says. “Let’s go.”He doesn’t let Grantaire stop by the bathroom to brush his teeth; instead, he drags him into the bedroom, pushes him onto the bed face-first, and straddles his lower back.Grantaire feels hands slide under the thick curly hair that covers his neck, then Enjolras’s fingers dig into the skin there. It’s not very skillful—it’s impossible to imagine Enjolras having ever had the patience to withstand a full massage of his own, let alone to learn to administer one—but it’s Enjolras, and Enjolras’s hands on his skin will always be a joy. Even when it doesn’t even hurt in a sexy way, just sort of an oddly uncomfortable way, it’s arousing. Grantaire’s going hard against the down comforter.The thumbs rub furrows into the skin on either side of his spinal column, then work down, across the broad muscles of Grantaire’s upper back. When they sink too deeply into the deltoids, tender from the weekend’s sparring, Grantaire groans.“You gonna fuck me already?”Enjolras falls flat atop him, and he’s hard too, his cock pressing against the back of Grantaire’s new work pants which are not made out of denim. “If that’s what you want. But Grantaire,” he says, and his voice is so near Grantaire’s ear, buzzy and warm and heavy with desire, “I just. I’m so—” and whether the next word is going to be pleased or proud or pleasantly surprised by your ability to do normal human things, Grantaire isn’t trying to hear it.“I want your cock in my mouth,” he says, flipping Enjolras off his back and going for the zipper. They end up sucking each other off, slow and languid, because they’re not really tired, not exactly, but their minds are full of thoughts and their mouths are full of cock, and sometimes that’s just a really great combination. Enjolras uses his hands and his mouth both, which Grantaire loves—and the way that sharp line of a mouth can bend to accommodate him, that’s yet another thing he loves about Enjolras’s face—and Grantaire just lets his tongue tease at the tip of Enjolras’s cock as it makes its measured thrusts in and out of his mouth. It’s unhurried and blissful. Eventually, they’re grunting around each other, and when Enjolras starts stroking the tight curve of Grantaire’s balls, Grantaire’s throat broadens to let Enjolras just a little further in, and he sucks hard, and Enjolras comes in long, thick bursts, his mouth gone momentarily slack around Enjolras.When Enjolras returns to himself, a moment later, he looks at the cock in his hands like an unexpected blessing. He strokes it hard—once, twice, and licks his lips, knowing Grantaire’s watching from one elbow now. Grantaire tastes him and wants him.“Come on my face,” Enjolras says, eyes aflame and locked on Grantaire’s cock. It’s not a tender sex voice; it’s an order.Enjolras twists his hand as he pulls, long and slow, all the way from the base to the head, and then licks just once at the tip—just long enough for Grantaire to watch Enjolras’s tongue emerge, caress him, retract—and he strokes him once again, and Grantaire, horrified, thrilled, amazed, watches as if from outside himself as his come jets out onto Enjolras’s perfect, blushing skin.Even after the practicalities of washing up and readying for bed, the memory is impossible to believe. Yet, he was there, and he is here now, again, in this bed, with his arm under Enjolras and Enjolras’s damp curls on his shoulder. “Doesn’t every revolution revolve around art?” Enjolras asks, as if perhaps this is what he’s been mulling over for the last few hours.“Actually, yeah, it’s kind of a thing. This show they’re gonna be putting together at work right now, actually, it’s all about the art of revolution.”“See?”Enjolras is usually happy to end on a last word, and this seems like a solid one. Grantaire closes his eyes, because much as he looks forward to it, morning is less far away than he’d like it to be.“Grantaire?” Enjolras pipes up again a moment later.“Yeah.”“You said ‘they’re’ doing this revolutionary art show.”“Yeah.”“But when you say ‘they,’ do you really mean you?”In the dark, Grantaire doesn’t have to worry that Enjolras will see his response. He’s not even sure what it looks like. Caught out? Sheepish? Proud? “I’m doing some of it,” he hedges. “I mean, I’m the new guy. But they fucking listen to me. Like, this show, this is one of the situations they pitched me at my interview, when I kind of just started spiraling out ideas, you know?” He hadn’t been able to stop talking; he’d been sure he’d cost himself the interview, had cut himself off abruptly to apologize and then realized, to his astonishment, that the interviewer was avidly scribbling his ideas down on a notepad, and he recovered and kept going.Rahwa handed him that notepad this morning, after showing him to his desk in the funny little office they share along the windowed side of the curators’ and archivists’ wing. From his post, he can look out at birds on the pond in the museum’s outdoor sculpture garden.“Which of these can you make happen?” she asked him.He blinked at the scrawl of ideas, pulling out the first few—music of Zimbabwe rev., Soviet oils vs. brush-painting under Mao, something that looked suspiciously like co-opting: Che @ Urban Outfitters—and felt his shoulders collapse. He looked up at her eager face. None, he was going to have to say, because for all the useless things Grantaire is, a liar isn’t one. He didn’t have the connections or the know-how to assemble art shows. He wasn’t a trained curator or archivist. He was just a guy with lots of shit to say about art. They knew this when they hired him, but still, there must have been some disconnect between what they thought they were hiring and what they actually got. There was no use stringing her on; he could show up at the coffee shop in an hour and they’d be able to make work for him.“I mean,” she clarified then, perhaps seeing the incipient flight in his eyes, “obviously, with my support, and the museum’s contacts, and, of course, a budget. We expect this show to be a big draw. We’ll showcase a few of today’s big names in U.S. protest art to get the crowds, and then back it up with a mountain of art history.”Then she showed him the databases, and then she took him across the hall to where his new badge gained him entry to the windowless expanses of the first of the museum’s several floors of basement storage—perfectly cool, dry, and quiet, like the back room at the cafe but smelling not like fresh-roasted coffee but the elemental, clean smell of carefully compartmentalized Time.He knows the order is false, is arbitrary, is only ascribed after the fact, yet standing in the midst of it calmed him. He felt, there, trailing Rahwa as she showed him how to locate a precise item from the incomprehensibly extensive trove, as if he, too, existed for this moment outside of time—as if by being there, he could see his world from outside, and know it to be transitory and only selectively archived.Enjolras is flopped halfway across him. “You?” he teases, but his sleepy voice is so soft the sarcasm barely makes it through. “You said more than you meant to?”“It got me the job,” Grantaire says, curving his hand to fit tighter around the bony joint of Enjolras’s bare shoulder.
10278596	You Look Different	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by Sinistretoile", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "1,491", "Additional Tags": "Rescue Missions, Rescue, Undercover, Undercover Missions, Undercover As Prostitute, Dress Up, Minor Violence, Sexual Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Sex, Wall Sex, Smut, Shameless Smut, Fucking, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Drabble, POV Second Person", "Relationship": null, "Character": "James \"Bucky\" Barnes", "Relationships": "James \"Bucky\" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James \"Bucky\" Barnes/Original Character(s), James \"Bucky\" Barnes/Reader", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Winter Soldier (Comics)", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	What in the hell were you doing? You're a field support agent. Rescue missions were not in your wheelhouse. Yet, here you were. You shifted uncomfortably on the dangerously high fuck me red heels. The Hydra agent licked his lips and rubbed his hands together. "Come here, baby." A large thump from the other side of the closed door brought your attention. "What's that? You ain't got dog, do ya? I'm scared a dogs." The agent chuckled. "Oh baby, he won't hurt you. He's a big, dumb mutt, but he's tied up nice and tight. Don't worry your pretty little head about him." He'd crossed the room as he talked. He rested his hands on your hips. You tilted your head to the side, looking up at the agent innocently. "You think I'm pretty?" "Fucking gorgeous, baby." He leaned in to kiss just as the door opened to the room. You glanced to over the agent's shoulder, catching a glimpse of your target bound and gagged on the other side of the door. A second agent looked up at your presence. "Dammit, Mark. I said no more whores!" Mark, the first agent looked over his shoulder. "I thought we'd share this one." Your delicate fingers stroked in the back of his neck, slipping the electroshock disc against the base of his skull. "Aw now, I'm gonna have to charge you double for another guy." You released the first agent and sauntered over to the second. He shifted, licking his lips like the first one had done. The red fishnets stood out starkly against your flesh. The low cut body con dress stopped just below your ass and shimmered like a red second skin leaving little to the imagination. You'd foregone panties for authenticity of the costume. "What's your name, sugar?" "Joe." Your hands skimmed up over the black tee and over his shoulders. "Mark thinks I'm pretty. Do you?" Joe swallowed and nodded. "Then why don't you join us for a little fun?" Your fingertips teased his ear, slipping the electroshock disc against his skin just under his ear. Joe licked his lips and nodded again, leaning in to kiss. You leaned back. "Ah ah, I don't kiss. Ain't you seen Pretty Woman?" Joe looked at Mark. They missed you reach up and press the earring on your ear, triggering the discs. They convulsed then fell to the floor as the discs delivered their full payload then it was lights out. You threw open the door to the bedroom and froze.~ You were in the gym, on the treadmill when Steve Rogers stormed in and practically dragged you off the belt. 'Captain Rogers! What's going on?' You knew better than to fight. You had a monthly training session with the Avengers and Steve, Bucky as well, had overpowered you and submitted you quick, fast and in a hurry. 'We need you for a mission, Y/N.' His brilliant blue eyes pinned you to the wall as he set you down on your feet. 'A rescue mission of dire importance.' Your heart hammered in your chest. When Captain Rogers demanded you for a mission, who were you to say no?~ Bucky looked up at the sound of your voice on the other side of the door. What in the hell were you doing here? What was Steve up to? Why hadn't he sent Nat or Wanda? The agents clearly thought you were a whore from the sound of it. He twisted his wrists under the rope. It wasn't just any rope, woven titanium and Oscorp spider silk. He wasn't getting out without help. The pair of thumps brought his attention up. Then you opened the door. Bucky's hunched over body straightened up, his eyes widening at your appearance. You were fucking hot! He was used to seeing you in workout attire or snug jeans and tee shirts, both flattering to your body but still leaving much to the imagination. "Bucky, we don't have much time." You plucked the gag from his mouth. "Y/N, what the fuck are you doing here?" "Duh, rescuing you." Your nimble fingers worked rapidly at the knots. You crouched at his feet to get the knots around his ankles. Your knees spread wide as you forgot that you weren't wearing anything underneath the dress. Bucky's eyes were drawn to your bare cunt in the shadow of soft red fabric. He swallowed and licked his lips. "Why didn't they send Nat or Wanda?" You freed his feet, shaking your head. "Gee thanks, Barnes. Because Hydra knows them. They don't know me. I'm nobody." You stood up. "Come on, we've got less than 3 minutes before the other agents come back. Steve's waiting five blocks away. And I can only run so far in these heels." The apartment door opened and confused alarm went up. Your wide eyes turned to Bucky. He grabbed you about the waist. "Hang on, doll." Your surpised cry cut short as Bucky crashed the pair of you through the window. He took the landing, cushioning you with his body. You looked down at him, pushing up onto your hands. "Thanks." "Don't mention it." You were acutely aware of his thick body under yours and his palms on your waist, fingers splayed on the curve of your ass. You stared at his lips. "Y/N-" Shouts above you reminded you where you were at. Bucky shoved you up then grabbed your hand. The both of you ran down the alley. "Five blocks?" You turned to him and grinned. "Five blocks." "I can run faster alone." Your grin faltered. "Up you go." He swept you up and threw you over his shoulder. You were past the five blocks and into the waiting unmarked van before you knew it. Bucky dropped you on his lap and held you tightly. Tires squalled but no one said anything until you were clear. Your back hit the wall and his mouth covered yours in a hot, wet kiss. His tongue stole into your mouth when you gasped. His hands on your ribs squeezed then moved up to your breasts and squeezed again. "Bucky..." "I like you in this, Y/N. It's different." His mouth left searing kisses along your jaw to your ear. "You have no idea how hard I was when you opened the door in this getup." His low, gruff voice vibrated against your ear. One hot flesh and one cold metal palm pulled the indecent neckline down, spilling your tits from the red fabric. "You like it when I dress up?" "Love it." He pressed his pelvis against yours. "Can't you tell?" You shuddered at the grinding pressure of his hard cock against your cunt. "Yes, baby." He moaned against your ear. "Bucky, I can't wait." "I know, doll. I got you." He reached between you and twisted the red fishnets in his metal fingers then pulled, ripping the fabric. You fumbled with his button and zipper, reaching in to squeeze his hard cock. He moaned against your collarbone. You pulled him out only for him to brush your hand away. He leaned back and searched your face. "I told you, Y/N, I got you." A cold metal finger pushed inside you. He curled his finger against your sweet spot, flooding your cunt with new wetness. You groaned against his cheek, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Your fingers twisted in his longish dark hair. A second finger joined the first, pumping in and out to open you up. "Bucky, please..." He hushed you. Then his fingers were gone. He gripped your thighs and opened you wide, pressing you more into the wall. His super soldier strength held you up with one hand under your ass as he guided himself to your entrance. A sharp thrust and he filled you so deep pain flashed along the pleasure like fireworks of a different color. "Bucky, Bucky, Bucky-" His name was a chant on your breathless lips with each hard thrust. His breath fell hotly against your bare skin. He set his teeth against your collarbone, grunting as he rutted into you. Your moans grew louder and louder until you were keening. The wet sounds of his cock pounding into your pussy joined the chorus of moans and grunts. His metal thumb pressed to your clit and rubbed up and down the hard nub. "Ah, fuck, doll, you feel so good." His breath shook. "So tight." His body trembled as he tried to hold off until you came. "So. Fucking. Perfect." He punctuated each word with a thrust. Your orgasm flowed over you, your hoarse barking moans tapering off. His teeth pinched your skin as he whimpered, shuddering his release. Your panting breaths became the only sound in the empty hall. "You should do undercover work more often." He grinned at you, pushing the hair from your face. "Or do something safe like a French maid's costume, maybe."
10222577	Sunshine Lolipops and	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Roy Harper, Jason Todd", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by Cuthwyn", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-11T00:00:00", "words": "3,894", "Additional Tags": "Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Birthday Sex, Happy Jason dancing in the kitchen is my jam, Roy needs a hug, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, recovery ftw!, Self-Acceptance, Anal Sex", "Relationship": "Roy Harper/Jason Todd", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)", "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": null, "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	Roy wasn't sure what had happened to make this a bad day. It had started like any other. He woke up alone to the sound of Jason already pottering around. His partner always liked to get up at eight o'clock. Then he washed, dressed and made breakfast. At nine o'clock he would saunter back off to the bathroom and take his meds. Roy would bet any money that nine o'clock was the morning medication round at Arkham. Institutionalisation was a wonderful thing. Groaning, Roy swallowed down a wave of nausea and turn his face out of his pillow to squint at the alarm clock. Eight thirty. One of these days he was going to call Arkham and give them a piece of his mind. Was it too much to ask to not be woken up at the ass crack of dawn every morning? Okay, the ass crack of dawn was a tad melodramatic, but when he'd been up until Christ knows when as Arsenal and then what little sleep he had, broken by Jason's nightmares, he deserved a bit of melodrama. 'Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows' Jason's singing caught his attention and Roy sat up and cocked his head, not quite trusting that this wasn't a dream. Clambering out of bed, Roy almost tripped over the blankets as he made his way to the bedroom door and creaked it open.Jason was listening to the radio singing along to Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows. A song that was far to cheerful for a DJ to be playing at this time on a Tuesday morning. 'Brighter than a lucky penny, when you're near the rain just disappears, dear. And I feel so fine, just to know that you are mine' Jason sang, spinning around with a funny little hip jiggle as he danced to the song Roy was surprised to discover he even knew. Folding his arms across his bare chest, Roy leant a shoulder against the doorframe with a small smile. Watching Jason sing his little heart out looking so, well, happy. Physically he looked a damn mess. Freshly showered hair stood at odd angles, dropping water onto his Wonder Woman tshirt. Despite the bright smile on his face, Roy noticed the ever present shadows beneath Jason's eyes. So young yet Jason had been through so much, plagued constantly by a hell only he really knew. Yet here he was, fighting every step of the way along a path of recovery he had carved out all by himself. Jason was such a remarkable human being with a strength Roy could only dream of. Beautiful, brave and with such a kind heart, no matter how many times the world had tried to rip it from him. Jason had every right to hate the world, and on bad days, he did, but he never lost his magic. And it was magic, because only magic could even begin to explain Jason Todd. He was the sheer definition of amazing. And maybe slightly euphoric today judging by the toast he was munching as he danced. Chuckling, Roy shook his head and wiped at a wetness in his eyes that were not tears. How on earth did he end up with someone like Jason? Roy Harper the washed out, used up, broken addict had someone like him.'You perving on me, Harper?' Blinking, Roy pushed away from the doorframe to grin at Jason stood in the middle of the kitchen with a petulant pout. 'Happy Birthday, Jaybird!' He greeted, walking over he placed a chaste peck against his partner's temple. Jason frowned and looked from Roy to the clock on the microwave. 'Oh good God, Jaybird! Have you seriously forgotten your own birthday?' Roy couldn't help but chuckle. Spinning on his heel, Jason stormed over to his phone and unlocked it. His eyes suddenly widened in comprehension. 'Well, that explains the missed calls and text messages.' Pressing up behind him, Roy wrapped his arms around Jason's waist. 'Yup. That it would Jaybird. Was gonna make you breakfast in bed but you kinda beat me to it.' Frowning, Jason leant his head to the side to allow him to study Roy's face quizzically. 'Why would I eat breakfast in bed? I am neither sick nor injured? You don't eat breakfast in bed you have to get up for it? Don't be dumb.' Humming, Roy gave his moron of a boyfriend a light squeeze, trying to hide the amused smirk in his shoulder. Sometimes, the way Jason made sense of the world was hilarious. 'True, true. You are also meant to eat at the table Mr Smarty Pants.'Jason's frown deepened, he looked down at the half eaten toast and pointedly took a huge bite. 'Tables are optional. Beds are for sleeping.' Jason ground out around a mouthful of toast. 'Huh, just sleeping eh? You sure about that?' Yelping when Jason elbowed him in the ribs, Roy grinned and placed his chin on his shoulder. 'Sorry.' Jason grunted his forgiveness and reclaimed his cup of tea, sipping at it with a very thoughtful expression, before Roy could enquire as to why, Jason paused, his lips hovering just above the rim of the cup. 'It's my birthday today. How old am I now?' Blinking, Roy was taken aback a bit by the question. One of those painful reminders of how poorly Jason had been. 'Twenty Jaybird. You're twenty.' Roy replied, turning to kiss the corner of Jason's lips. With a thoughtful hum, Jason turned towards him to participate in the kiss. Lips soft and for once, pliant. Jason moved so he was facing him, body pressed up against his, so trusting. It was addictive. Who needed drugs when you had Jason Todd?Most people would have described Jason's birthday as boring. Roy dragged Jason over to the couch and fired up Netflix, declaring that it was a chill day and there would be no arguments on the matter. Jason grumbled about a whole list of jobs he had to do, but he relented to sitting next to Roy, sure, sometimes he got up to potter around, to smoke, to just move. Roy let it go with a soft smile, Jason was having a good day and for once, had energy. The moron never did quite know what to do with himself when his mental state hadn't sapped every ounce from his body. No one from Jason's family showed up, but Jason did succumb to calling Dick. Roy laughed as Jason held the phone with an excitable Dick jabbering on, away from his ear and gave Roy a desperate 'help me' look. The reason the family hadn't descended with loud voices and brightly coloured balloons with wrapped presents, was because Roy had visited each of them last week and read them the riot act. Sure, he wasn't a miracle worker but Jason's loved ones had agreed to leave him alone on the big day and visit in dribs and drabs over the next week or so. No gifts. Sure, offer to take Jason out for coffee, make him a sandwich, whatever, just do not bring presents.It was why Roy had left a new teapot in the cupboard. Jason didn't cope well with surprises, and the social conventions around gift giving and being given a wrapped parcel with something he didn't know was safe inside, just sent him spiralling down into an anxious mess.Jason found the teapot when he had insisted on making lunch because like hell Roy was messing up his kitchen. Roy smiled when he heard a yelp of surprise and he peered over the couch to see Jason lifting the lid of his new teapot and peering inside it. God knows why and like hell Roy was finding out that ball of crazy. He was probably checking for a bomb. Once it had been deemed safe, Jason placed it on the counter with a smile and quickly dashed off to choose a tea and collect two cups. Apparently Roy was having tea if he liked it or not. Lying back against the couch, Roy let his eyes drift back to the film. His fingers unconsciously rubbing at his forearm, it felt like bugs were crawling beneath his skin. Someone like him shouldn't have nice things. A washed up, spent addict did not deserve to have nice things. An addict did not deserve to fall in love. His only saving grace, was that Jason had never said those three words, even if Roy found himself spewing them multiple times a day. After all, someone like him could never love and be loved in return. To belong with someone but not to them. To be respected. 'You 'kay, Harper?' A cup of Milk Thistle tea was pressed into his hands, forcing him to stop rubbing at his arm. He looked up at Jason and forced a smile. 'Sure am, Birthday Boy!' That's what today was. Jason's birthday and Roy was not selfish enough to steal the limelight from him with his own problems.No, it was not a birthday most people would have overly enjoyed but Jason was not most people. Roy smiled to himself and leaned down to kiss away the droplets of sweat from Jason's forehead. Birthday sex though had apparently been on his Jaybird's okay list today. For once, even initiating it, which was new but Roy quite happily rolled with it. Pun most probably intended. This was what he needed, the high from Jason's body chasing away the bugs and malignancy inside him. Jason smiled groggily, shifting his hips, he cackled when Roy groaned and thrust deeper into him. 'Quit it.' Roy chided half heartedly, gazing down at the man below him in wonder. Yet again, confused as to how on earth he ended up with such a beautiful person. 'Or I'll have to make love to you again.' The words were sappy and cheesy, and that was exactly why he had chosen them. Bursting out laughing, Jason blushed a deep pink and turned his face into the pillow. 'The fuck is that, Harper!' Slipping out, Roy trailed a hand down before thrusting two fingers in where his cock had been, grinning at the slick feeling of lube and his own cum. Jason gasped and tensed up for a moment, before relaxing his pelvis back down into the mattress. His reward was Roy circling his fingers in that way which made Jason swallow down a whimper. 'This is making love, Jaybird.'Sure he wasn't fifteen anymore, Roy was going to need a little respite before going for round two, but like hell that was stopping him from playing. Jason gasped and moaned, completely at ease with the situation and with what Roy was doing. 'Fuck off. You're such an old man.' 'Am not an old man, Jaybird!' Roy protested, swatting Jason's butt just to see the shock on his face. 'Are too! If I'm twenty you're like, I dunno, thirty?' Laughing, Roy smiled when a certain look flashed across Jason's eyes and he retracted his fingers before it got too much for him. 'I'm a few years younger than that Jay! I'm still in my twenties.' 'Pfft, twenty is old, you're practically vintage.' The playful argument carried on for a little while longer. Jason too blissed out and tired out to notice Roy's slight change of demeanour. The words that were said in jest had struck a very painful cord with Roy. Roy Harper was nothing more than a washed out, used up, broken addict. Spent before the age of thirty.Silently, Roy tucked Jason into bed with a soft kiss, his eyes drifting to his partner's softening cock. Jason hadn't reached climax tonight. The few logical brain cells, Roy hadn't drugged out into oblivion, pointed out that it wasn't something to worry about. It was a testament to Jason's past traumas not his attraction to Roy. Yet tonight, doubt twisted in his gut. Roy ran trembling fingers along the back of his elbow, following the scars along a long collapsed vein. Needle tracks. Back from before he had discovered that injecting into his groin held greater benefits, like secrecy. He'd never told Jason about that pathetic low point, he probably knew anyway, Jaybird was hardly innocent to that world. How could anyone find that attractive? He sure as hell didn't. Sighing, Roy cast a final look at Jason sleeping soundly before creeping out of bed and heading to the bathroom. Switching on the light, Roy stood for a moment and listened to the calming hum of the extractor fan. He looked at himself in the mirror for an insane amount of time. Washed up. Broken. Spent. All used up. His hair hung in straggly clumps and with the added emergence of stubble, Roy couldn't help but grimace. He really did look like Roy the fucking addict. Without a word, he dug out the clippers from beneath the sink and started setting it up.Roy was prone to change his physical appearance on impulse. When he couldn't stand to look in the mirror anymore. When he can't stand the person looking back at him. Roy the fucking addict. Washed up, broken and useless. No matter how many times he cut his hair or grew a beard, changed his clothes, Roy the addict always stared back at him.'Harper? What the fuck you doing?' Came a groggy voice and Roy froze, his eyes rising to see Jason reflected in the mirror, nude and looking rather confused. Teal eyes fell to the clippers in his hands. 'If you've got crabs, this is a real shit way to tell me, Dude.' Roy almost chocked on the damn air. Turning around he shook his head dumbly, his free hand moving to tug at his hair. 'Fancied a change.' He said simply, hoping that it would satisfy Jason and he'd leave him alone. 'At three in the morning?' Jason frowned slightly, eyes raking up and down Roy's body before finally resting on the track marks. 'Hmm, okay? Want some help? You're real shit at cutting your own hair.' Jason should be sleeping. Jason needed to sleep or he'd become unwell, but here he was, pandering to Roy, and on his birthday too. Roy couldn't feel any shittier if he tried. 'You don't have ta. I'm okay at it.' 'Shut up and get in the tub. Ain't having you spreading hair everywhere like a malting dog, Harper.'The bath tub was where both boys cut their hair. It kept the mess to an easily managed minimum that stopped Jason from twitching and usually, one would help the other. It was one of Roy's favourite spots. Tucked between Jason's muscular thighs, listening to the steady buzz of the clippers. If he glanced in the mirror, Jason always had his bottom lip sucked in, in concentration. Tonight was slowly sending Roy into a giddy high and it took all his will power to not nuzzle into Jason's crotch. It smelt like Jason, of him, of both of them, mingling together In a heady cocktail. 'So, what we going for?' 'Crew cut.' Roy said with certainty and he could feel the weight of Jason's stare on his shoulders. 'That's- well, um, that's - different?' 'Yup.' 'Okay.' Closing his eyes, Roy exhaled deeply, and for the first time all day he felt calm. Feeling Jason's calloused fingers on the nape of his neck, the blade of the clippers cutting loose his shame. Maybe this time he would finally be able to wash Roy the addict down the plug hole. Be the person Jason deserved.'So, let's cut the crap. What's this really about Harper?' Jason's breath was warm against his newly bared neck but Roy shuddered regardless. 'N-nothing. Fancied a change is all.' 'Bullshit.' For a long time, only the buzzing of the clippers filled the silence. Roy squirming in between Jason's legs. 'You're too good for me.' Roy finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. Chuckling, Jason shook his head and put the clippers down to brush the hair from Roy's shoulders. 'It's just a haircut Harper. I-' A tear dropped onto his hand and Jason looked at it before craning his neck to look at Roy, who was crying quietly to himself. 'Harper?' As if he had turned on a tap, Roy crumbled into a puddle of tears so suddenly that Jason was concerned that he'd fill up the bath. Uncaring about the strands of Roy hair clinging to his body, Jason slid down the tub, encircling his limbs around the distressed man. Roy gasped at the uncharacteristic personal contact and lifted his head to blink at a very worried looking Jason. 'Why are you here?' 'Um, well I was cutting your hair and you got upset so-' Trailing off, Jason shrugged growing more confused and this time, Roy did not find his literal way of looking at the world endearing. 'No, why are you here at all? I don't understand you.' Roy mumbled, feeling Jason's hands still around him.'This, this is about me?' Nodding, Roy felt so shit he had to swallow down the urge to vomit. The urge to just get up and go score a hit, find a bar, anything, anything to get away from, this. Better a high addict than the selfish, miserable sober one he currently was. He was funny when he was high or drunk, his friends had told him so. No, that was wrong. He remembered what the nurse had told him in rehab. Friends cared for you, supported you through the tears and the smiles. Friends didn't beat you up and steal your belongings whilst you were intoxicated. They didn't break your fingers because you were late paying the never ending debt you apparently owed. No, Roy's true friends had been the Titans but he'd given them up, willingly, to get his head kicked in and dragged behind a car for half a mile. 'Harper? Roy? Buddy please? You're frightening me.' Jason called out to him, tapping his cheeks with such gentleness it hurt. Jason was worried about him. He shouldn't bother, he had more important things to worry about. 'I'm fine. Just, just go sleep, Jaybird.' 'No. Harper, please? I can't sleep knowing you're upset. What did I do?'Jason wasn't going to give it up. The damn fool was like a dog with a bone sometimes. Sighing heavily, Roy leant his cheek against the side of the bath, wishing silently that Jason's thigh was still there. 'You're so strong Jaybird. Such an amazing, inspiring person. I can't, I don't understand why you're still here? Putting up with me. With this.' The words tumbled out of Roy's mouth before he could stop them. 'You deserve more than a washed up, broken, old addict. You deserve the world.' 'Are you high?' Jason blurted out, before inwardly wincing and mumbling an apology. 'That's not what I meant. Well, it kinda is. Harper, you forgotten who you're fucking?' Shaking his head, Roy turned to cup Jason's cheek in the palm of his hand, fresh tears glistening on his cheeks. 'No. You're so beautiful. Like an angel.' Jason screwed up his face and Roy knew, just knew he was checking the dilation of his pupils. 'I'm not high, Jason.' 'Coulda fooled me. I gots blood on my hands, Harper? I kill people, hardly the boyfriend material you take home to meet grandma. My mind is fucked to hell. You're fucking a broken man. I barely recognise myself as a man, as a person some days. I'm an absconded psychiatric patient. You should turn me over but instead you break the law and harbour me. Put up with all my bullshit, even when I'm just down right mean to you. I-' 'That's not all you are Jaybird. You're so much more than that.' Roy immediately jumped in, to shoot down his Jaybird's demons as quickly as he summoned them. It was true. None of that mattered. Not to Roy.'I broke your nose last month.' Nodding, Roy brushed a hand over his nose. Jason had horrific flashbacks, nightmares, frightening fits of rage. When those hit, Jason lashed out and it didn't matter who was in the way. 'You didn't mean to. Not like me, you got that from me.' Roy protested solemnly, his hand moving from his nose to ghost his fingertips over the bruise on his Jaybird's cheek, now yellowing, almost lost on his skin tone. Jason wasn't the only one driven by fits of rage, by a sheer need to watch the world burn, to destroy. It was ugly and wrong. 'You didn't mean to.' Jason parroted with a soft smile. He noticed how Roy's hand rubbed along his forearm as he started to sob again. Reaching down, he placed a hand gently on top of the track marks. 'These? They're still scars Roy. Like mine. Just different. They are a sign of how fucking strong you are, Harper. Only a lion could fight addiction and win. You won.' Jason whispered against Roy's ear, hands trailing up and down his bare sides soothingly. 'Te amo.'For a moment Roy forgot how to breathe. He wanted to ask Jason to say that's again. Just to hear those words again, but deep down he knew he never would. It had taken this long for Jason to say it once. Roy knew that admitting something that made him so vulnerable in his mother tongue was a huge, huge deal for Jason. Smiling slightly, Roy leant back against a firm chest, feeling hands softly caress his arms, his feet, all the places that bore the evidence of his past. Soothing the writhing itch that had settled beneath his skin like bugs. 'I love you, Jaybird.' One quick scrub down later, Roy found himself bundled up in bed, Jason spooning him from behind, nosing at the crook of his neck sleepily. Warm hands, squishing down the bugs, soothing his very damn soul. 'Te amo, Harper, te amo.' Jason mumbled against skin, sealing the words with a sloppy kiss. The rush of the action hitting him harder and faster than Heroin ever had. Even when he had mainlined into the femoral vein. That's when he realised that cutting his hair had been futile. He could never change who he was, the past. Jason was proof enough of that. You could only build on the burnt out remains left behind.Roy and Jason were who they were. Two broken young men fending for themselves on the outskirts of a society who either couldn't or wouldn't accept them. Two disturbed young men who just wanted to make it through another day. Together they felt it, the mutual feeling of self loathing, hatred and destruction. It read more like a tragedy than anything else. Two lives full of so much potential. Broken. Lost. Neither could return to who they used to be. Together though, they could figure out who they were now. In the aftermath of the destruction. Wandering through the wasteland of lives once lived, the young men leant against one another. Encouraged the other to keep moving. To pick up their broken parts to make something new. Maybe this time it wouldn't be ugly. Time could only tell.Jason's song suddenly made sense. Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows, Everything that's wonderful is what I feel when we're together.
10237928	Confetti	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Patty Tolan, Jillian Holtzmann", "Fandom": "Ghostbusters (2016)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by amtrak12", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "145", "Additional Tags": null, "Relationship": "Jillian Holtzmann/Patty Tolan", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Toltzmann drabbles", "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 }	"3! ...2! ...1!"The Times Square ball hit the end of its descent. The sky erupted with fireworks as confetti rained down on them. Despite living in New York City her entire life, Patty had never stood in Time Square on New Year's Eve. It had taken the Ghostbusters being invited as special guests for her to finally see this bright chaos in person.Holtzmann stood next to her, her face tilted up to stare into the shower of confetti. "It's bigger than it looks on TV," she said. A confetti square lingered on her cheek before sliding off towards the ground."Hey." Patty nudged her. "You forgot my New Year's kiss."Holtzmann grinned. "Yeah. So what would you like, Pats? A spin? A dip? A spin and a dip? I can also drop to one knee if you'd like.""Just kiss me, you fool."
10269566	Wasted Youth	{ "Archive Warning": null, "Category": null, "Characters": "Archie Andrews, Jughead Jones, Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper, Fred Andrews, Reggie Mantle, Kevin Keller", "Fandom": "Riverdale (TV 2017)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by Melanie_Mikaelson", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "4,082", "Additional Tags": "Unrequited Love, Major Character Injury, Suicide, High School, School Shootings, Violence, triggering topics, Grief/Mourning, Protective Archie Andrews, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Boys Kissing, Friendship/Love, Boys In Love, Gun Violence, I'm Sorry, Major character death - Freeform", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Archie Andrews/Jughead Jones, Veronica Lodge/Betty cooper, Archie Andrews & Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper & Veronica Lodge", "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": "Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death", "Categories": "F/F, M/M", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	What's supposed to be a typical day at school ends in a fatal disaster for one of them when two gunmen start to shoot up Riverdale and everyone in it. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The light streaming through Archie's curtains was the only thing that brought his cocooned body out of slumber. Well that, and the incessant blaring of his alarm clock. Groaning Archie leans over slamming his hand down on his alarm clock, effectively silencing it before turning away from the sun's rays, huffing in annoyance.Archie stubbornly lays there for a few more minutes trying to fall back to sleep, but his efforts are fruitless. Sighing, he cracks his eyes open and throws his legs over the side of the bed.After rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Archie gets to his feet and ambles over to the door to his bathroom to take a shower and get ready for school.Twenty minutes later, finds Archie making his way downstairs into the kitchen where his Dad is cooking eggs. "Morning" Archie smiles at his dad, taking a seat at the kitchen dining table and pulling a plate of freshly made toast towards himself.Fred glances over at his son and smiles, taking the eggs off the stove and putting some onto Archie's plate. "Sleep well? Kiddo" Fred asks, sitting across from his son.Archie looks up from his plate; he swallows his mouthful before shrugging "Yeah, it was pretty good. I would've liked to sleep in though" he grins."Haha, well school starts in fifteen minutes. So finish up here, and I'll drop you off on my way to work. How's that sound?" Fred asks, Archie smiles and nods "That'd be great, thanks, Dad".They finish breakfast while talking about anything and everything, before heading out to the truck after locking up.Fred slides into the driver seat and glances over at Archie "So how's your music going, Arch?" as soon as he asked, Archie's face lit up, and then they spent the whole drive to school, discussing Arch's music.Fred pulls into the school park, coming to a stop near the gutter. Just as Archie is getting out of the car, Fred puts his hand on his son's shoulder to get his attention.Archie turns to his father in confusion, "Yeah?" he questions. Fred just smiles squeezing his boy's shoulder "I'm just proud of you, have a good day kid, I love you"."Thanks, Dad and I love you too. I've got football practice this afternoon, so I'll be home late" Archie smiles back at his dad. After saying goodbye, Archie heads inside.Making his way towards his locker, Archie smiles and nods at everyone who greets him. When he finally reaches his locker, Jughead is leaning beside it grinning at him."Uh, Prince Charming made it through his swarms of worshippers" Jug smirks. Archie chuckles unlocking his locker and grabbing the books he'll need for his classes."Really? Juggie" Archie laughs shutting his locker, heading in the direction of his first class. Jughead falls into step beside him "C'mon Arch. You know it's true" Jug chuckles. "I'm just like everyone else in this school, Jug" Archie mumbles, glancing at Jughead.Jug hums and then grins, smacking Archie on the shoulder "So did you hear, Betty finally got the guts and asked Veronica out".Archie pauses in his step before grinning at Jug "About time!", Jug nods in agreement heading into their first class.The next few hours pass uneventful, and then the bell rings signalling lunch time. Archie gathers his books and shoves them into his backpack before heading outside to their regular table. Archie takes his seat, Jughead quickly takes the seat beside him, which has become a regular thing as of late but Arch pays it no mind."So I heard the good news" Archie smiles over at Betty and Veronica who are cosied up together on the bench across from Jug and himself.Betty blushes and Veronica smirks "Yeah, she's off limits now" Veronica smirks mischievously. Archie throws his head back laughing before nodding in the direction of Betty."I don't think she was planning on dating anyone else, V" Archie chuckles, taking a bite of his sandwich. The four of them continue talking for the rest of lunch, and by the time the bell rings, Jughead and Archie are almost on each other's laps. Knees and shoulders pressed close as they laugh and joke with Betty and Veronica.All four of them make their way towards the library for their study period. Just as they hit the door of the library, Archie swears softly "Shit".Looking at his friends confused faces he blushes softly "I forgot my AP Math book. I'll be back in a few minutes. Save me a seat!" Archie abashedly smiles.With that Archie's off jogging down the hallway before his friends can reply. Archie has just grabbed his Math book when two loud successive bangs echo through the school. Then it's Chaos.People are screaming and running. It's complete and utter Chaos.Archie grabs someone as their running past him, "What's going on?" Archie asks the terrified student.Tugging his arm free the guy "Two men are shooting up the school! Mr Jenkins and three other students are already dead, man!", and with that, he's off running.Archie's blood freezes, face going pale.Two shooters, in their school, killing people with no remorse.Another six shots, nearby spur Archie into action, he drops his book and takes off running towards the library. Completely forgoing the exit door only meters away from him. His own safety is the last thing on his mind right now.Meanwhile in the library, Betty, Veronica and Jughead have just taken their seats at a table that's occupied already by Kevin. Jughead sits down, placing his backpack on the seat beside him for Archie before leaning back in his chair. "Where's the golden boy? Kevin asks, looking around the library for Archie. Veronica looks up from her phone "Grabbing a book from his locker" she supplies before glancing back down at her phone. Kevin is about to say something when he's cut off by two loud bangs coming from somewhere inside the school.Suddenly the library is dead quiet."Was that?""That sounded like a-" "Gunshot" Jughead finishes, looking just as pale as everyone else.From behind the library doors, they hear people screaming and running. Followed by the sound of six more gunshots.One of the teachers from the library quickly ushers everyone to hide and stay quiet. Jughead, Veronica, Betty and Kevin quickly crawl under the table, while everyone else in the library does the same, hiding under tables and behind shelves.From outside the door, they hear someone running and screaming, followed by a gunshot that cuts the scream off. Betty whimpers, tears streaming down her cheeks, while Veronica is shaking beside Jughead. Throughout the library are quiet and muffled whimpers. Jughead remembers that Archie went back for his book which was in the direction the first shots sounded from and his blood runs cold.Without any thought, he's climbing out from under the table and heading towards the door, but just as he reaches for the handle, one of the teachers grabs him and pulls him down away from the door."Are you crazy! you can't go out there!" Mr Hughes whispers. Jughead tries to fight off his grip "Let me go! I need to get Archie! He's out there!" Jughead panics trying to reach for the door."Sit down! Sit down now!" Mr Hughes snaps, pushing Jughead back to the safety of the table he was under. Suddenly the doors swing open and everyone whimpers. But it's a pale Archie who has blood on his Varsity Jacket. Archie quickly shuts the doors behind himself and hurriedly starts to barricade the door with anything he can grab. "What the hell man?" Reggie asks Archie who's still manically barricading the door shut. Archie turns his wild eyes onto everyone who has slowly come out of hiding including his best friends who are all staring at him wide eyed and scared except for Jug who just looks relieved to see him."There are two shooters. They're killing any and everybody. They're just shooting up the school!" Archie says, scrambling to grab things.Jughead notices the red staining Archie and panics "Oh my god! Are you hit? Are you hurt!?" Jughead rambles.Archie pauses and looks down at himself looking shell-shocked. "I don't know...I was right next to Jenny Mandickson, and he just blew her head off man" Archie answers looking at the blood on his jacket and hands."We need to get the hell out of here!" Reggie yells running for the barricaded door, but he stops when shots go off just outside the door now.Mrs Norlene and Mr Hughes gesture for the kids to hide and they scramble back into their hiding places. Jughead quickly grabs Archie and pulls him under the table next to himself and the others.Archie turns to Betty and grabs her hand "You're gonna be okay, Betty" he promises, before moving to Jug. Jug reads the fear and uncertainty in Archie's eyes, but there's also something else in there that he couldn't read.And then it hits him. There's determination in Archie Andrews eyes. The determination to keep his friends safe.A loud bang echoes through the library as the door starts to shake, from someone ramming into it. The barricade shakes and then a second person joins in on slamming into the door. Mr Hughes quickly gets up and tries to push it closed but with one final ram from the other side of the door, the barricade crumbles and the door swings open with a slam on the wall.Jughead slips his hand over Veronica's mouth while Archie does the same to Betty to muffle their cries."Please don't do this. Please, you don't have to do th-" Mr Hughes' begging is cut off by a gunshot and the thud of a body hitting the floor.Someone from in the library screams, but it's quickly muffled. But it's too late. The shooters have already heard it.After that, the only sound is students from within the library being found and shot one by one. Archie clenches his jaw and shuts his eyes for a second before opening them and looking right at his friends. "I'm going to make a distraction and get their focus on me. As soon as I've managed to lead the gunmen away I want you to make a run for it okay when I give you the signal, go out that door and don't look back" Archie whispers.Jug's eyes widen "No way in hell!" he whispers angrily to Archie. Betty, Veronica, Kevin and Reggie all nod their heads furiously in agreement.Archie sighs quietly, "Look before I came in here sirens were surrounding the school. Which means at this point there is S.W.A.T. inside the school. After you's leave, I'll be right behind you okay. Just listen to me for once" Archie whispers.Jughead is shaking his head furiously this time, tears streaming down his cheeks. Archie sighs before looking at Jug "Screw it", and with that he grabs Jug by the face, kissing him softly. Pulling apart, Archie looks at Jug. "Please just do it okay Jug, help me save them" he begs.As much Jughead doesn't want to leave Archie, he looks at the scared faces of their friends before turning back to Archie and doing the hardest thing he's ever done.He nods.Everything happens quickly after that.Archie's crawling out from under the table and sneaking off in the direction of one of the shooters. They wait for the signal and then there running for the door when they hear a tackle, some scuffling, then Archie's yell of "NOW!".----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Fred is finishing up some paperwork when one of his men bursts into his office looking pale. Fred's face contorts into one of concern as he takes in Mark's ashen appearance and the words that come out of Mark's mouth cause Fred's world to stop."There's a school shooting at Riverdale High".Not waiting to hear anything else Fred is grabbing his keys and sprinting for his truck, and with that, he's squealing out of the parking lot. Headed towards Riverdale High. Towards the shooters. Where his son currently is. In what should be a ten-minute drive to Riverdale High School, turns out to only be three minutes when you're breaking every speeding law in the book.When Fred tears into the parking lot of the high school there are News Vans, Police cars, Ambulances, S.W.A.T vans and the sounds of sirens, crying, screaming kids and parents.Fred is moving by instinct now because everything is happening in slow motion around him.He frantically looks at the faces of the students that are outside of the school, but he can't spot Archie's.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Meanwhile, Archie is struggling with one of the gunmen on the floor for his life. Archie manages to knock the gun from the man's hands when he body slams the gunman from behind sending them both sprawling to the floor. Archie kicks the gun as far away from them as he can and shouts "NOW!", after that, he hears multiple sets of feet running out of the library."Nick!?" One of the gunmen calls out."Go after them. I've got this fucker!" The man Archie is fighting calls out, and with that, the other killer ran out after his friends.Archie dodges a fist and rolls back getting to his feet to try and make a run for it, he makes it around one shelf but is quickly hit from behind sending him careening to the floor. Nick wraps his arms around the kid's throat and hauls him to his feet slamming the teen into one of the shelves.Archie struggles against the hold around his neck before slamming his elbow back into the man's ribcage, loosening his grip enough for Archie to scramble away but the shooter is back on him in seconds.The two of them struggle for a few minutes trying to gain the upper hand until Archie catches an elbow to the temple rendering him still, long enough for Nick to grab his gun.Archie sends a kick to Nick's knee just as he points the gun at him, that has the man grunting in pain. This gives Archie enough time to get his feet under him and then he's running towards the doors of the library like a bat out of hell.Just as he thinks he's going to make it, the sound of two gunshots goes off one after the other. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Jughead, Betty, Veronica, Kevin and Reggie are sprinting down the halls of the school trying their hardest to ignore the bodies and blood littering the walls and floor. They hear the sound of heavy footsteps behind them which spurs them to run faster. Just as they round the corner, they come face to face with a group of S.W.A.T who quickly usher the frightened teens behind them. "One of the shooters was behind us" Reggie manages to rasp out to one of the S.W.A.T members who nod to let them know they've heard.Everything after that happens in a blur. The gunmen who had been chasing them around the corner and is quickly taken out by S.W.A.T.Jughead pauses when he looks at the dead shooters body. Making a decision, he turns to Kevin "I'm going back, I can't believe I just left him there" And with that, he's off running back in the direction of the library, his friends and the S.W.A.T yelling after him.The rest of the group are then their being led out the doors into the complete and utter chaos of crying and screaming families, Sirens and flashing cameras.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Fred just happens to be standing next to one of the Officer's when he hears something over the radio"I have a visual on the second shooter. There's a struggle between what presumes to be a student. I have a clear shot, but we need to take it quick. The shooter has a gun trained on the student. Permission to fire, sir?" Fred automatically knows that that's his son their talking about. He can't explain how he knows he just does. The S.W.A.T soldier in charge grabs the walkie from the man and gives the order to fire. "Fire".----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Archie feels a burning white sensation in his chest. Faltering in his steps, Archie looks down at his chest where a now large patch of crimson was spreading.Suddenly lightheaded, Archie collapses to his knees with a thud.Bringing his hand up he presses against the spreading patch, pulling his hand back comes back stained red with warm blood.He vaguely hears the sound of footsteps running down the hall towards him, but he doesn't pay them any notice, too busy staring at the growing pool of blood pouring out of the hole in his chest."Archie? Oh my god ARCHIE!" He hears someone scream. Jug's heart has stopped beating as soon as he ran through the door and saw Archie on his knees pale and bleeding from the chest. A quick scan around the room saw a bunch of dead kids and the shooter with a hole through his head.Archie swayed and fell onto his back. He would have walloped the ground, had it not been for Jughead catching him before he could slam into the floor."HELP SOMEBODY PLEASE! I NEED AN AMBULANCE!" Jug screams knowing that there were officers who had ran in after him. Archie was struggling to breathe now, blood leaking from his mouth, down his cheek. Jug cradled Archie's head gently in his hand and the other on the wound pulsing with hot, thick blood and stared down at the boy he had loved for four years, dying in his arms. "Please don't do this Archie, please" Jug begs tears running down his face while pressing down harder on the bullet wound.Archie arches in pain and coughs up more blood up. He looks up at Jug and smiles seeing Jug safe and unharmed. Using what little strength he has left he lifts his hand shakily up to Jug's cheek.Jug puts his hand over Archie's to hold it there, so he doesn't use his strength. Archie grimaces in pain but keeps smiling; it's not a pretty sight, blood covering his teeth and pouring down the side of his face. "I-I'm g-l-la-d y-yo-" He breaks off coughing, blood speckling his face and arching but he continues anyway "S-s-sa-fe" he smiles despite the all body-encompassing pain.His vision is beginning to fade and breaths are coming further and further apart now. "Yeah, we're all safe Archie, we made it because of you. So you can't leave me okay" Jug sobs holding Archie closer to his chest."I love you, damn it!" Jug cries, pressing his lips to Archie's cooling, bloody lips."L-l-lo-ve y-y-yo-ou t-oo" Archie struggles, his eyes widen briefly, and he looks up at Jughead blurrily "T-t-te-ll D-dad, I l-lov-e h-im" and with that Archie starts to convulse in Jug's arms, fighting for air that he can't seem to get in.He's choking on his blood, Jug realises, tears pouring down his face.Archie's struggles last thirty seconds before he goes still in Jug's arms...lifeless.Jug panics and shakes Archie, grabbing his bloody face in his hands. "Archie! Archie please!" Jughead screams for his best friend, but it's fruitless as Archie's lifeless eyes stare up at the roof, once vibrant brown eyes so full of life, now dull and lifeless.Jughead's screams echo down the hall, and finally, that's when paramedic's and officers burst into the room. But it's pointless it's too late.Archie's dead.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Fred is panicking now after hearing the words over the radio. His son is still in there. Not caring Fred breaks past the tape and starts to run through the officers. They make a move to stop him, but he's not letting anyone get in his way. One officer wraps his arms around Fred, but he fights the man's hold "Let me go! My sons in there!" Fred screams, breaking out of the officer's arms."Let him through" he hears the chief officer in charge, and he doesn't need to hear it twice. He's off sprinting down the hall towards the library, growing paler and paler at the site of dead kids and teachers.Just as he rounds the corner to the library, he sees two paramedics leaving the library looking grim, blood covering their hands.Fred falters in his steps, heart racing as he nears closer to the library doors. From here he can hear someone sobbing, and that's when it registers. He knows that voice. It's Jughead.Fred runs right past the paramedics and into the library, and it's sickening, there are bodies and blood everywhere, but that's not what makes him almost fall to his knees.It's the body lying on the floor next to a sobbing Jughead.It's his baby boy."Oh no....God no!" Fred screams running and falling to his knees beside his boy, scooping his son's lifeless body into his arms. He's immediately soaked in blood, but he doesn't care about that. "NO, NO, NO!" Fred screams out, wrapping his arms tightly around Archie, rocking him back and forth in his arms.Fred's sobbing into his boy's hair, heaving for air, crying out "Archie" over and over again. Fred looks down at Archie's face that's covered in blood, and his heart shatters when he meets those lifeless brown eyes."Oh god, oh god no, please no" Fred cries, running a hand over his face, unknowingly covering his face with Archie's cooling blood. Fred throws his back and lets out a guttural scream of loss and pain. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The next few days passed by slowly.The day after the shooting Archie's and the other people whose lives were lost that fateful day a funeral was held and the whole town and even people from all over came to pay their respects. The media coverage was massive, broadcasting worldwide.The school holds a memorial for the lives that were lost a week later, and everyone turns up including the news channels that bombard the mourning friends and family.Archie Andrews is a name that becomes known worldwide as a hero who sacrificed his life to help save his friends and fellow students.He was a young man who had so much going for him, a football scholarship in the works, his music, his budding romance with Jughead, his father, his whole life. Taken to soon.It turns out the men who had shot up the school were two mad men who had rode into town looking to cause mayhem.Riverdale high was never the same after the fatal shootings that occurred there. Two months after the school shooting Fred Andrews couldn't take it anymore and put a bullet through his head. He was found in his son's bedroom four days later.Years later, a memorial for the lives lost is still held every year on the day the school shooting occurred, and each year Jughead, Betty, Veronica, Kevin, and many others paid their respects to Archie Andrews and the fallen.Jughead was now a successful published author at the age of twenty-six. He has never forgotten his first love, Archie Andrews; he carries a picture of the two of them when they were just 15 years old and happy in his wallet with him every day.Betty and Veronica got married at the age of twenty-three and started a family together, and are Name Partners at one of the largest firms in NYC.Kevin moved on to become a famous fashion designer. He married the love of his life Moose at twenty-five.Reggie moved on to become one of America's most wanted football players and married a sweet girl he met at one of his games, two years later they had their first child, a baby boy. Archie Dean Mantle.Each day they all know that if not for one Archie Andrews, they wouldn't be standing where they are today, with their loved ones and families of their own.
10250945	The More Things Change	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": null, "Characters": "Alexander Hamilton, George Washington, Elizabeth \"Eliza\" Schuyler, Thomas Jefferson", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by as_with_a_sunbeam", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "1,588", "Additional Tags": "Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Fainting, Yellow Fever aftermath, 1793", "Relationship": null, "Character": null, "Relationships": "Alexander Hamilton & George Washington, Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth \"Eliza\" Schuyler", "Series": "Yellow Fever", "Collections": null, "Fandoms": "Hamilton - Miranda, 18th Century CE RPF", "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 }	“We will discuss this at further length in the cabinet meeting tomorrow,” Washington asserts sharply when he sees Jefferson’s mouth open to add another comment. They all needed to time to reflect and to cool their passions. Perhaps himself most especially. Unfortunately, this would not be the first meeting that ended with him stomping through his office and kicking the furniture. He sees Jefferson swallow down his comment and nod. “Of course, Mr. President. I bid you a good night, then, sir.”He nods and bows in farewell. He then turns, expecting to see Hamilton behind him awaiting the same parting gesture. Instead, he finds Hamilton still seated. Washington fights down his temper, always tested most sorely by this boy. He presumed too much, sometimes. Washington needs a break from him as much as from Jefferson. “Mr. Hamilton,” he prompts firmly.Hamilton’s gaze draws away from an uninteresting point across the room to meet Washington’s eyes. He immediately jumps to his feet, as if snapping to attention. Washington watches with growing concern as all the color seems to drain from Hamilton’s face. The younger man’s knees begin to buckle, his eyes rolling back.Washington is holding him up before he’s consciously decided to move. Hamilton is light in his arms, delicate as always, thinner than he’s been in a long time. Long ink stained fingers grasp at his shoulders as Hamilton works to keep himself on his feet. In the end, the boy presses his forehead against Washington’s shoulder as well, his weight almost entirely supported by the aging general.A beat of silence followed, until at last Hamilton inhaled deeply and began to push away. “My apologies, sir,” he mutters, voice weak and face still stark white.“Hush, my boy,” Washington whispers gently. Taking Hamilton by the elbow, he maneuvers him back to the chair. “Here, sit a moment.”He looks back to find Jefferson frozen in place just inside the door. “Mr. Jefferson, would you ask a clerk to bring some water, please?” he requests.When Jefferson steps out, Washington turns back to Hamilton, squats at his side, and raises a hand to test his forehead for fever.“I’m all right, sir. Just a little dizzy. I stood too quickly.” The weakness of his voice belies his argument.“Healthy people do not swoon from the mere act of standing,” Washington informs him. “Just sit quietly for a moment.”To his amazement, Hamilton does as he asks. Those piercing eyes close and his head tips forward as he inhales and exhales deliberately. Washington, still crouched beside him, reaches out and cups the back of his neck tenderly, rubbing a thumb over the base of his skull.“Water, sir,” Jefferson announces as he enters the office once more. He holds out a little pewter cup to Washington, a flicker of concern in his expression as he looks at his political enemy. Washington nods his thanks, somewhat surprised his Secretary of State had taken it upon himself to accomplish the menial task.“Here, son. Take a sip,” Washington urges gently, raising the cup to bring it to Hamilton’s lips. Hamilton’s hand grasps weakly at the cup, clumsily gripping at it over Washington’s strong hands as he tries to take control. Washington eases his hold, allowing Hamilton to hold the cup, but keeping a finger on the bottom to insure it does not fall. It’s a delicate dance he’d perfected with his grandchildren when they were small.“Is it the fever?” Jefferson asks with forced mildness.Everyone had been wary of Hamilton since he’d contracted Yellow Fever that fall. The sickness had driven the government from Philadelphia and claimed the lives of some five thousand citizens since August. Hamilton had survived (thank the Lord), but he’d been weakened ever since. His work was suffering; he was missing important meetings; he was swooning before political enemies.Jefferson had been the first to flee the sickness, the first to question whether the Treasury Secretary truly suffered from it, and was now the first to fear a possibility of a relapse. Washington sighed as he glanced at his Secretary of State. He’d always liked and admired the man, but if Jefferson continued to force him to choose, he didn’t think Jefferson was going to like the answer.“He feels cool enough. His eyes have no lingering yellow. Whatever is wrong, it is not the fever,” Washington assures Jefferson calmly.Jefferson reaches forward tentatively and claps Hamilton gently on the shoulder. “Be well, Mr. Hamilton,” he wishes as he departs.Hamilton nods once but does not open his eyes.“How is the water settling?” Washington asks, both to make conversation and to see whether he should produce a basin for the young man.Hamilton swallows and assures him, “Fine, sir. I’ll be quite well again presently.”“Take your time,” Washington encourages.Hamilton sits with his eyes closed for a few more silent minutes. Washington stays by his side, his thumb again stroking the back of the boy’s neck. When Hamilton recovers enough, his eyes will flash with annoyance for the familiar gesture. Washington finds he does not care.The young man sniffled lightly then met Washington’s eye. “I think I’ll be all right to stand, now, sir.”Washington nods. He pushes himself out of his squatting position, wincing as his knees creak. He’s no spring chicken, he thinks ruefully. Hamilton rises slowly as well. The color stays in his cheeks this time.“Thank you for your kindness, your Excellency. I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you,” Hamilton apologizes, bowing slightly to the President.Washington feels a swell of affection for his one- time aid as he returns the parting gesture. Hamilton had always been one of his favorites. He’d bucked at every kind word and affectionate gesture, but nothing Hamilton did could remove the tendril of love that had settled in Washington’s heart.“You’ve been no inconvenience, Mr. Hamilton,” he tries to assure him.Hamilton raises a delicate eyebrow. He’d likely noted the annoyance in Washington’s tone earlier. He’d surely noted the displeasure in Washington’s face when he’d sprang to attention so quickly he’d nearly fainted. Hamilton had a knack for knowing all of Washington’s passing moods.“I assure you, it was no hardship to allow you a moment to recover yourself,” Washington adds.Hamilton still looks skeptical but he says nothing more. He follows Jefferson’s path from the office on unsteady legs. Washington can’t help comparing him to a newborn colt in his mind. Unease grips him once more. What if Hamilton fell on his way home? What if he swooned again in some dark alley?“Mr. Hamilton,” he calls out.Hamilton pauses and turns back questioningly.“Allow me to take you home, sir,” Washington insists. He’ll call for the coach and see Hamilton to his door, desk full of papers be damned. Otherwise, he knows he will lie awake worrying over the boy.“That’s not necessary,” Hamilton says with wide eyes.“I insist,” Washington replies, already heading to the door to call for the coach.“No, sir,” Hamilton pleads, fingers catching at his sleeve to stop him. “It wouldn’t be proper. You’re much too busy to be chauffeuring me about Philadelphia.”“It would take at most a half of an hour and it would put my mind at ease greatly,” Washington replies. “I’ll accomplish little if I am sitting at my desk worrying that you’ve fainted in the street and been run over by a passing carriage.”“I’ll be perfectly fine,” Hamilton says stubbornly.Was it possible the boy didn’t know how dear he was to his old commander? Washington shakes his head and chuckles to himself. Hamilton looks confused at the President’s private merriment.“I’ll make that an order, then, Colonel.”Hamilton now smiles weakly at him. “I don’t remember joining the army again,” he says thoughtfully.“March,” Washington barks. Hamilton responds instinctively, making Washington smile once more.He calls for the coach and rides the few blocks to Hamilton’s rented home. When he follows the boy from the carriage, Hamilton huffs in annoyance. “You don’t need to escort me to the door. I’m not a swooning damsel.”Washington fixes him with a hard look, not bothering to remind him that he’d caught the boy from a half faint within that very hour. Hamilton goes quiet, opening the front door and stepping inside.“Betsey?” he calls as he moves into the foyer.Eliza steps out of the parlor, a surprised expression on her face. “Honey?” she asks. Spotting Washington in the doorway, she adds, “Mr. President?”“I’m fine,” Hamilton assures her immediately.Eliza sighs and wraps her husband in an embrace. Peeking over his shoulder, she addresses Washington, “Won’t you come inside, Mr. President? Perhaps have some refreshment?”“No, thank you, Mrs. Hamilton. I just wanted to see Mr. Hamilton safely home,” Washington assures her. He can feel a fond expression on his face as he watches Eliza run a hand down her husband’s back.“I’m fine,” Hamilton insists again.“Of course, sweetheart,” Eliza coos. She shares a knowing smile with Washington over her husband’s shoulder.“I bid you good day, ma’am,” Washington says, bowing to Eliza. He adds, “Be well, my boy.”He hears Hamilton grunt something in reply, but the words are lost against Eliza’s neck where he’s buried his face. Undoubtedly it was another assurance that he was fine.“Good day, Mr. President. And thank you.”He smiles at Eliza again before turning to go back to the coach, shaking his head to himself. The boy would never change.
10239320	Mitzvah	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": null, "Characters": "Parker (Leverage), Alec Hardison, Eliot Spencer, Alec Hardison's Grandmother, Rabbi Rebekkah Holtzmann", "Fandom": "Leverage", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by the_foxgirl (punningway)", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "471", "Additional Tags": "Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, OT3, Polyamory, Judaism", "Relationship": "Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": "Purimgifts 2017", "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "F/M, M/M, Multi", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	“I mean, sure, most rabbis would not be down with this whole two men and one woman thing, but I really don’t think a caring Gd would condemn a committed, loving, consensual relationship between adults. I’ve never seen such an odd trio more suited to each other. I am honored to perform your marriage ceremony.” -- Rabbi Rebekkah Holtzmann, to Alec Hardison, Eliot Spencer, and Parker when they met with her to plan their wedding. ** 6 months after the wedding (and entirely too interesting Honeymoon Job) Parker splashed water on her face and dried it, feeling deeply grateful that the morning sickness had subsided a couple of weeks into her second trimester. “‘Morning’ sickness. Whoever called it that clearly wasn’t pregnant,” she grumbled. After spending the last three and a half months playing Maternity Roulette with everything she ate, she’d finally gotten to eat an entire amazing meal without it making a reappearance. Sitting in the kitchen with Alec massaging her feet, she had watched Eliot, in his element, chop, stir, saute, sear, and season what ended up seeming like the finest love letter of a supper she had tasted in her life. She padded to the bedroom, and paused at the door to smile. Alec, with his arm around their husband, was playing him a video clip on his phone from the hit musical HAMILTON, Eliot leaning into him and smiling. As the video ended, Alec kissed Eliot on the temple, and Eliot caught sight of their wife, grinning at the kiss and at her. Alec turned to look too, smiled, kissed Eliot lightly on the lips, and beckoned Parker to the big comfortable bed. “Hey, baby, how are you feeling?” They made space between them for her, and tucked the quilt Alec’s grandmother had made them for Hanukkah around her and them. Eliot nuzzled her shoulder as Alec gently petted her growing belly. Parker sighed happily. “This kid is gonna be the luckiest kid in the world to have you for their dads. And we’ll celebrate SO MANY HOLIDAYS. Christmas. Hannukah. Easter. Purim. Passover. Halloween. Valentine’s Day. Independence Day.” Her eyes shone and she beamed. Eliot laughed. “You know not all of those are religious holidays, right, love?” Parker rolled her eyes. “You are so missing the point.” Eliot and Alec met eyes for a moment, Eliot nodding slightly. Alec bit his lip. “You know, Parker, it’s a mitzvah for spouses to...enjoy each other.” “What’s a mitzvah?” Alec gently turned her face towards him and kissed her slowly, lingering and luscious. “It’s a commandment.” Parker raised an eyebrow, breathing a bit faster. “You’re not usually very religious.” Eliot, nibbling her ear, mutters “None of us are…” Alec, slowly sliding his hand down her belly and further, murmurs, “But I think we can always make an exception for this.”
10251188	Nepenthe	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": null, "Characters": "Kim Sanggyun \| A-Tom, Park Sehyuk \| P-Goon", "Fandom": "Topp Dogg (Band)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by orphan_account", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "1,426", "Additional Tags": "Menstruation, Intersex Character, not one of those gross kink things, Sleepy Cuddles, cuddles in general, Fluff, Gender Dysphoria, Light Angst, like implied angst, Crying, improper use of binders", "Relationship": "Kim Sanggyun \| A-Tom/Park Sehyuk \| P-Goon", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "Fandoms": null, "Archive Warnings": null, "Categories": "M/M, Other", "Bookmarks": null, "Chapters": null, "Comments": null, "Completed": null, "Hits": null, "Kudos": null, "Published": null, "Words": null, "Updated": null }	“Sehyuk, do we have any ibuprofen?” At the sound of his boyfriend’s voice, Sehyuk turned away from the dishes he was drying and began to speak. “Yeah, we should-” His voice became infused with sympathy when he saw his swollen chest and the tired look on Sanggyun’s broken-out face. “We should have some in the cabinet to your left. I thought you weren’t supposed to start your cycle for another week.” “So did I,” Sanggyun muttered, rummaging around in the cabinets. Given that he had an immensely abnormal cycle due to his biology, it was hard to pin down exactly when his period started and ended, but they had managed to figure out it came in the first or second week of every third month- and even that was unreliable. Still, having a schedule of sorts made it easier to know when to restock the house’s supply of menstrual hygiene products and chocolate. Sanggyun located the ibuprofen and took two of the pills, dry swallowing them with no hesitation. He then walked over to Sehyuk, lacing his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and resting his head on his shoulder. “My cramps are really bad right now,” He murmured, his voice bordering on a whimper. Sehyuk realized Sanggyun was in a lot more pain than he was letting on. He held Sanggyun close for a moment, rubbing his back gently before saying, “Go lay down upstairs, I’ll bring you the heating pad and some water in a minute, okay?” Sanggyun nodded and let Sehyuk press a gentle kiss to his forehead before disappearing up the stairs. When Sehyuk returned, Sanggyun was lying on his side with his back turned to Sehyuk, blankets barely up to his knees. The first thing Sehyuk noticed was the patch of red that had seeped through Sanggyun’s sweatpants. He set the glass of water down on the bedside table and plugged the heating pad in, turning the setting up to high and setting it down. “Sanggyun, love?”“Yeah?”“You bled through.”“Are you serious?” Sanggyun struggled to look over his own shoulder at the bloodstain on his pants. He groaned in exasperation and flopped back down onto the pillows.Sehyuk chuckled and shook his head. “At least the sheets aren’t stained. Go change and I’ll throw that stuff in the wash.”Sanggyun let out a soft whine and pushed himself up with what seemed like immense effort, walking over to the dresser and grabbing a fresh pair of sweatpants and briefs before walking to the bathroom. Sehyuk took the time to change the sheets anyways and gathered up the dirty laundry, including the dirtied clothing that Sanggyun had set in a small pile outside the bathroom door while Sehyuk was changing the sheets. After bringing the laundry downstairs, he returned to the bedroom to find Sanggyun laying on the bed, watching some nondescript cooking video. Immediately, Sehyuk noticed something was different- his posture, the way his shirt fell across his torso was different.“Are you wearing your binder?” Sehyuk walked over to the bed and leaned down a bit, ignoring how Sanggyun squirmed away from him. Sure enough, the thick hems of his binder were visible through the thin cotton material of his t-shirt.Normally, Sanggyun’s chest was fairly flat, not even enough to fill an A-cup. But the hormonal fluctuations accompanying his period made his chest swell just enough to bother Sanggyun. And so the binder went on, and Sanggyun would bite his lip at the pain it caused his tender chest. Sehyuk had been okay with it at first, reasoning that Sanggyun knew his limits and wouldn’t push his body too far, but that changed when Sehyuk found Sanggyun sobbing in the bathroom in the early morning, vomiting because of how bad his cramps and chest pain were. That’s where Sehyuk had drawn the line.Before Sehyuk could say anything, Sanggyun looked up at him with sad eyes. “I’m almost out of pads, could you run to the store and grab some for me, please?”There was no way Sehyuk could say no, especially with Sanggyun giving him puppy eyes. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Sanggyun’s forehead. “Yeah, I’ll go there now. Is there anything else you want me to grab?”“If you brought chocolate home, I wouldn’t not eat it.”Sehyuk rolled his eyes playfully. “Alright, you dork. I’ll be back in fifteen.”“Drive safe. I love you, Sehyuk.”“I love you too.” When Sehyuk returned, he found Sanggyun sound asleep in their bed, almost completely hidden under the blankets. He smiled fondly and set the box of pads in the bathroom. It had taken him a while to find them- there was a specific brand that Sanggyun liked because they fit well in his briefs, and the store Sehyuk had gone to was nearly out. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if they were out completely.He went back downstairs and turned the television on, only half paying attention to whatever reality show was on as he checked his social media. About twenty minutes had passed when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. Just as he looked up, Sanggyun plopped himself down on the couch next to Sehyuk, obviously still drowsy. Sehyuk laughed softly and brushed Sanggyun’s hair away from his forehead.“How was your nap? Are your cramps better?” Sehyuk’s questions were met with a sleepy mumble from Sanggyun, who simply nuzzled into the curve of Sehyuk’s neck. He wrapped his arm around Sanggyun’s shoulders, and the motion caused the knit cotton of his t-shirt to catch on something beneath it. Sehyuk glanced down and realized Sanggyun was still wearing the black compression garment he’d donned earlier.“Sanggyun, did you sleep in your binder?” Sanggyun looked up at Sehyuk with a sheepish expression.Sehyuk sat up and pulled away from his boyfriend, suddenly filled with concern that masqueraded as anger. “I- Sanggyun, what the hell? You know how dangerous that is! God, I know being on your period makes you dysphoric, but you can’t just ignore your own health and safety- you should know this.”Sanggyun gave Sehyuk an irritated look. “I know, b-”“If you know, then act like it! This- do you not remember what happened the last time you slept with your binder on? Do you really want a repeat of that?”“It was an accident!” Sanggyun lamented, effectively shutting Sehyuk up. “God, Sehyuk, I didn’t mean to fall asleep with it on. Why the hell are you yelling at me?”Sehyuk knew he had crossed a line when tears began welling up in Sanggyun’s eyes. Normally, Sanggyun had a thick skin and wasn’t legitimately upset by a lot. But his emotional boundaries shifted during this time of the month, and Sehyuk had just violated those boundaries.“I didn’t mean to yell at you, babe. I’m sorry.” Sehyuk gently pulled Sanggyun into a hug and let the younger cry softly into his chest. “I was just worried about you, love. I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you, you didn’t do anything wrong,” He said in a soft, reassuring voice, running his fingers through Sanggyun’s messy hair. His boyfriend nodded, face still pressed into the material of Sehyuk’s shirt.“S’okay,” Sanggyun murmured, sniffling and cuddling into Sehyuk’s touch.Sehyuk pressed a soft kiss to the top of Sanggyun’s head before softly asking, “Can you take it off, baby? I don’t want your beautiful body to be hurting.” Sanggyun gave a small, watery laugh at Sehyuk’s compliment and stood up, stretching his arms behind his back the way he’d learned to while wearing a binder. He went back upstairs, presumably to change, and Sehyuk made quick work of turning the couch into a nest of pillows and blankets before turning on an episode of the medical show that Sanggyun was hooked on.When Sanggyun returned, binderless, he laughed at the setup. “Babe, you should’ve told me if you wanted to make a pillow fort. It would’ve been much better with my help.”“Oh, shut up,” Sehyuk said teasingly, handing Sanggyun a bar of rich milk chocolate and laughing when his boyfriend’s eyes laughed in delight. “Do you forgive me?”“Yes, I forgive you, idiot.” Sanggyun lovingly kissed Sehyuk’s cheek before settling down in the blankets next to him. “You take such good care of me,” He murmured, snuggling into Sehyuk’s side.Sehyuk pulled Sanggyun close to him and kissed his forehead. Sanggyun smiled, head resting against Sehyuk’s chest, and soon fell asleep to the rhythm of his heart beating.
10212464	Summer Heat	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "F/F", "Characters": "Korra (Avatar), Asami Sato", "Fandom": "Avatar: Legend of Korra", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by forestchild (waldkind)", "chapters": "2/2", "completed": "2017-03-12", "published": "2017-03-10T00:00:00", "words": "350", "Additional Tags": "Drabble, Smut, My First Fanfic", "Relationship": "Korra/Asami Sato", "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 all felt like melting. Asami was so hot. It was a day mid july, temperature high enough to have her skin sweaty even in the shadows. Currently, Korra was in Asami's lap, naked, bouncing up and down on two of her fingers, eyes closed. Ice cold blue as she opened them in the warm summer's haze. Asami curled her fingers just so, thumb pressing down. Korra came with a broken moan, head falling forward, tightening around Asami's fingers. After a still minute of panting against each other, wet skin on skin, Asami withdrew her hand slowly, leaving with a gentle carress. She brought her fingers to her lips to lick them clean, Korras heavy gaze following the movement of her tongue. Korra leaned forward to kiss Asami's cheek, slow and tender, murmuring affectionate words into her skin and nuzzling close as Asami embraced her, a soft smile on her face. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- It all felt like burning. Korras hands seemed to be everywhere at once, on Asami's back, her thighs, her stomach, leaving the feel of tingling electricity at every spot touched. Korra let her strokes reach farther down, Asami's back arched, an elegant curve, gasping into Korra's mouth. Half-lidded eyes under dark lashes followed the path of Korra's wandering lips, her fingertips dancing across Asami's sweat-drenched skin to a silent song; roaming everywhere but there where Asami wanted, needed her the most, pelvis lifting off the bed without her permission, sheets grasped in white-knuckled fingers. "Korra…", a whimper, "stop teasing". Korra looked up, grin sun-bright, before she put her mouth on her. "Like that?" Asami nodded weakly, chest and neck glowing ruddy, flushed under pale skin. A suck in just the right place, a twist of Korras's tongue , the thrust of a nimble finger, and Asami's orgasm hit her like an ocean's wave, heat and pleasure, hips pushing up, held hands squeezed tight. They laid there in a tangle of limbs for quite some time, Korra sprawling out beside Asami. As they smiled at each other, Korra pushed a loose curl behind Asami's ear, a delicate graze against her cheekbone.
10224932	you were on the other	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Lem King, Emmanuel", "Fandom": "Friends at the Table (Podcast)", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by LuckyDiceKirby", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-11T00:00:00", "words": "1,099", "Additional Tags": "Missing Scene, let the boys rest and drink tea", "Relationship": "Lem King/Emmanuel", "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 tea that Emmanuel brings out to Lem smells lightly of hazelnuts. Emmanuel carried it all the way from Nacre, a small tin smuggled in the very bottom of his pack. He couldn’t bring his bakery, or his friends, or the only life that he's ever known: but at least he could take the smell of home with him.Lem waits patiently for the tea to steep, bending his head down to sniff at it curiously, careful that his tusks don't knock over the cup. Emmanuel, standing by his chair, can feel his heart squeeze in his chest."This smells nice," Lem says, looking up at Emmanuel and smiling. It sits a little awkwardly on his face. "Thanks," Emmanuel says, sitting down in the chair beside Lem. He stirs his own tea. "It's from Nacre--I'm not sure if I'll be able to find this blend anywhere else, so I'm trying to savor it while I can.""Oh. Well, thank you for sharing it with me." Lem takes a tentative sip, closing his eyes. Appreciating it. Emmanuel watches him, leaning his head on one hand. He's really very tall. Lem doesn't looks so different from when they first met in Nacre, months ago--Emmanuel supposes he doesn't look much different either, despite the fundamental shift his life has taken since then. Emmanuel remembers smoking a cigarette on a balcony with Lem, one short peaceful moment before everything went to hell. It's one of his last untainted memories of Nacre. It felt a lot like Emmanuel feels now, as if he's on the precipice of something, teetering over the edge, a fluttering in his stomach. Hopefully this time the city isn't going to start falling down around his ears, he thinks ruefully.They drink their tea in silence. Emmanuel could ask about the hilt, or the plant, and in a little while he will--but for now he just wants this, a moment to themselves before anything else happens. Lem, after he's finished his cup, starts peering around the restaurant. Emmanuel's heart squeezes again. He wonders what it would take, to make Lem stop being so curious about even the most mundane things. Apparently, it would have to be something more than a city falling apart, or an undead curse, or the stars falling from the sky. Lem stands up, and he starts eying a painting hung up on the wall closest to the table. Emmanuel takes the opportunity to find some water for the poor plant, which is still looking a little singed around the edges. When he joins Lem, a few minutes later, he's still examining the painting. It depicts an elegant house in a forest Emmanuel doesn't recognize. "I don't know who painted it, or what its provenance is," he tells Lem, smiling despite himself. "I'm still pretty new to Rosemerrow."Lem straightens, and turns back to Emmanuel. "I figured," he says. "There are a few paintings like this back at the archives--the same style of tree--I thought it might be the same artist, but I'm not sure. Anyway, it doesn't matter." He sticks his hands in his pockets, and then blinks to himself before starting to rummage around. "Ah, I still might have--there!" He pulls out two cigars, triumphantly, and offers one to Emmanuel, rubbing the back of his head a little sheepishly. "Like old times?" he asks."Maybe later," Emmanuel says, shaking his head. His throat still feels a little rough after the excitement with the star."All right," Lem says agreeably, and puts them away. He hums to himself for a moment. "What you said before, about not being able to turn back, I--that's right, isn't it? I don't think I realized it before. But I--well, I think about you a lot. I looked for you in Velas, once or twice, you know."Emmanuel smiles. "I'm glad that our paths crossed again. I would have come to Velas eventually, but, well." He spread his arms wide, though not quite wide enough to encompass the mess that is Hieron, these days. "You see how things are.""I do. I do." Lem looks down, his hands twisting in front of him. He opens his mouth to speak, and then closes it again. He's thrumming like the plucked string of a violin.Emmanuel puts a hand on Lem's chest, tilting his head back. Lem goes still instantly. "Lem," he says, "I like you very much. But you're going to have to meet me halfway. Do you understand?"Lem blinks down at him. "Oh," he says, a little dazed. "Yes, I--I think so." He cups the back of Emmanuel's head and leans down, as Emmanuel rises up on his toes. It's a quiet kiss. The fluttering in Emmanuel's stomach settles. He leans in again, wrapping both arms around Lem's neck to help keep his balance. He's very tall. Emmanuel squeaks, just a little, when Lem lifts him by his thighs and puts him down on the table, a few feet away. "Oh," Lem says. He steps back a bit. "I'm sorry, was that alright?"After he rights the empty teacup that he knocked over, Emmanuel reaches out, pulling Lem back in. "It's fine," he says, smiling and shaking his head. "I was just surprised." Lem is still taller than him like this, but it's much easier for Emmanuel to put his hands against Lem's face and kiss him, a little less quiet this time.When he pulls back, Lem's hand lingers on his face, his thumb brushing Emmanuel's cheekbone. Emmanuel leans into it and closes his eyes. He feels warm down to his toes. A star fell today. The world, Emmanuel is beginning to realize, may be ending. Still, the only thing he can think about is this ridiculous man. "I will try," Lem says. Emmanuel opens his eyes again. "Really. I know that I can, well, get caught up in other things quite easily, but you are--there's no one else like you, Emmanuel. And I know a lot of people!"Emmanuel laughs. He rests his head in the crook of Lem's neck, and the hand on Emmanuel's face slides down to rest against his back, warm and solid. "Thank you, Lem," he says. "I've lived a long time. I've never met anyone like you, either." They sit for a while longer. Nothing disastrous happens. Soon enough, Lem leaves, clutching the sword hilt and making his apologies. Emmanuel's heart squeezes a final time, watching him go. But he doesn't wonder if he'll ever see him again. Emmanuel knows that he will.
10207322	Popcorn Kiss	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "F/M", "Characters": "Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood", "Fandom": "Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling", "Language": "English", "Rating": "General Audiences", "author": "by ami_ven", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-10T00:00:00", "words": "102", "Additional Tags": "Community: writerverse, Established Relationship, Fluff", "Relationship": "Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood", "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 }	“What are you eating?” Neville asked, as Luna wandered into his greenhouse, chewing something that crunched loudly.“Muggle food,” she replied, shaking a paper bag that rattled as she hopped up to sit on the counter. “Popcorn.”“Ah,” he nodded, then frowned. “Then why do I smell mint?”“It’s a muggle thing!” said Luna, brightly. “You put mint candies into hot popcorn, and it melts. Do you want to try some?”Neville smiled, and held up his dirt-covered hands. “Some other time.”“I’ll leave you to it, then,” she told him, and her kiss tasted like salt and melted chocolate.THE END
10296239	Of Blizzards and Blow	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": "Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Sadie (Jared's Dog), Genevieve Cortese", "Fandom": "Supernatural RPF", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Explicit", "author": "by sinnerforhire", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-14T00:00:00", "words": "1,937", "Additional Tags": "Snowed In, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Blow Jobs, Physical Disability, Wheelchairs, Disabled Character, Arthritis, Chronic Pain, Service Dogs", "Relationship": "Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": "Paws 'verse, 365 Days of J2 Fanfic", "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 the doorbell rings on Monday night, both Jared and Gen are shocked. Gen jumps up from the couch and answers the door. “Oh, hey, Jensen.”Jared wheels out from the kitchen to see Jensen standing in the doorway with a suitcase and a laptop bag. He’s got snowflakes all over his wool peacoat and in his hair, which glistens under the glow of the overhead light. “Hey! What are you doing here?”Jensen grins. “I figured if I’m gonna get snowed in anyway, I’d much rather be snowed in with you than at home.” His grin falters. “I hope that’s okay.”“It’s fantastic,” Jared assures him. “You can put your stuff in my room.” He wheels towards his bedroom with Sadie leading the way. He stops outside the door to let her open it. She turns on the light, and Jared moves out of the way to let Jensen through. Jensen sets his laptop bag down on Jared’s desk and stashes his suitcase underneath it. “Is Gen going to be okay with this?” he asks, frowning.Jared nods. “She’ll be fine. We’re all adults. I know the place is a little small for three people, but we’ve got plenty of food and hot water, so it should be a relaxing few days.”Jensen kicks off his shoes and opens Jared’s blinds. It’s not snowing that hard yet, but the full-on blizzard is coming. “You got any hot cocoa?”“Yeah, we’ve got K-cups in the kitchen.” Jared and Sadie lead Jensen to the kitchen. The Keurig and the carousel of K-cups are on the corner of the counter, and Jensen twirls the carousel until he finds two cups of salted caramel hot cocoa. He grabs two mugs from a mug tree on the other counter and grins when he sees the Shakespearean insults on the side of the blue Etown mug. “I remember these. Good times.” He sets the mug underneath the spout and turns on the machine. “You sold these at Homecoming?”Jared shakes his head. “No, we made them for the English department banquet. I was in the English honor society—the unfortunately named STD.”Jensen laughs. “STD? Really?”“Sigma Tau Delta,” replies Jared. “That’s why we mostly just called it the English honor society. People teased us enough for just being English majors in the first place.” Jensen hands Jared the mug of hot cocoa and Jared takes a tentative sip. It’s really good, and perfect for a snowy night. Jensen uses Jared’s Scrabble mug to make a cup for himself, and Jared wheels over to the dining room table. He opens a drawer in the hutch and pulls out one of Jensen’s homemade dog biscuits. Sadie sits perfectly at attention as Jared breaks it in half. He feeds the halves to her one at a time, and she crunches through them happily, licking crumbs from her muzzle after she’s done. Jared smiles at Jensen. “She really likes those.”Jensen smiles back. “I’m glad. She’s a special girl, she deserves a special treat.” He sits down at the table next to Jared and sips his hot cocoa. He glances out the back door. “Hey, look, it’s really snowing now.”Jared looks up at the streetlight at the top of the hill. He can see a torrent of big, fat snowflakes falling sideways past it in the pool of warm yellow light. He smiles. “I’m so glad you came over.”“Me, too.” Jensen leans over and kisses Jared’s cheek. “It’s gonna be a good night.”The three of them retire to Jared’s bedroom, where Jared turns on some music and for awhile they just gaze out the window and watch the snow piling up on the cars and the street. The wind is blowing the snow off of the hoods and windshields of the cars and piling it on the driver’s sides. Gen’s car, parked in the handicapped spot at the end of the ramp, is sitting in a drift of snow that’s piled up to the top of the driver’s side tires already. “Wow,” murmurs Jared. “This is gonna be something.”“Were you here for the Blizzard of ‘93?” asks Jensen.“No, I still lived in Texas then,” answers Jared. “And I was only four, so I probably wouldn’t remember anyway.”“I was nine. We didn’t go to school for almost three weeks,” recalls Jensen. “We had to make up so much time that they added a half an hour onto the school day because we would have had to go to school until July otherwise.”“Wow. How much snow was it?”“It was about 10 inches on the first day, and it just kept snowing. We ended up with about two feet total, and we had to get a crew to come take snow off our garage roof because it was damaged. We had a pile of snow in the corner of our yard next to the driveway that was well over six feet tall. We had a bi-level house, and the snow pile came up to the bay window on the top level.”“Holy shit.” Jared leans back into Jensen’s embrace. “I hope this one isn’t that bad.”“Well, if it is, I’ll help Gen dig out her car and your ramp.”“There’s a crew that’s supposed to do that,” grumbles Jared. “I mean, we pay them to do it, but most of the time they don’t and we have to email the homeowner’s association and bitch.” Jared sits up straight and looks Jensen right in the eye. “I don’t want you doing it.”Jensen nods. “I will if it’s an emergency. Otherwise, hands off.” He finishes off his hot cocoa and sets the mug on the nightstand. He gets a wicked grin on his face. “You know, we’re in your bedroom, and there’s a love song playing, and we’re in the process of getting snowed in together, meaning we won’t be able to leave this place for days, and both of us still have our clothes on.” Jensen unzips his hoodie and throws it on the floor. “That’s just wrong.”Jared returns Jensen’s wicked grin. “There are some candles on top of the bookshelf. Sadie, go turn off the light.” Jensen gets up to light the candles while Sadie trots over to the light switch and turns it off. “Go lie down, girl. You’re off duty.” Sadie makes her way to the fleece-lined denim bed in the corner, turns around a few times, and settles down. Jensen finishes lighting the candles and joins Jared in bed. “You’re a little overdressed.”“Maybe you should take care of that, since my specially trained dog isn’t going to,” teases Jared.Jensen frowns. “I don’t want to hurt you.”Jared shakes his head. “You won’t. Just be gentle and go slow.”Jensen pulls Jared’s henley and undershirt off with the utmost care and flings them in the direction of the laundry hamper. He removes Jared’s slippers and jeans and tosses them in the same pile. Then he sheds his own t-shirt and track pants and stretches out on the bed next to Jared. He traces a fingertip down Jared’s sternum to his navel and then replaces it with his mouth. “Wait,” whispers Jared. “I need pillows.”Jensen sits up. “Okay, what should I do?”Jared gestures at the closet, where he stores both his extra pillows and his sex ramp. “Grab two of the fluffy pillows and put one under my knees and the other under my ankles.” Jensen jumps up and does as he’s told, lifting Jared’s limbs with the lightest and gentlest of touches. Jared settles back against his backrest and nest of bed pillows and curls a hand around the back of Jensen’s neck. “Now, where were we?”Jensen brings his lips to meet Jared’s. They’re warm and tinged with sweetness from the cocoa they had, and they’re softer than they have any right to be. Jared brushes his tongue at the seam of Jensen’s lips, erasing all traces of chocolate that linger there. Jensen parts his lips and lets Jared’s tongue sweep the last hints of sugary sweetness out of his mouth. Jensen’s tongue brushes shyly against Jared’s, as though he’s seeking permission to come inside, and Jared responds by breaking the kiss and nudging Jensen’s explorations a little further south. Jensen flutters little feathery kisses all down Jared’s neck to his chest, making him shiver slightly. Jensen makes his way down to one of Jared’s nipples and takes the sensitized bud between his lips, flicking his tongue over the tip and drawing it into full hardness in an instant. He lavishes more attention on it until Jared cries out with need and frustration. Jensen then kisses his way over to the other nipple and repeats the sequence of touches and teases. Jared drops his head back on the pillow and moans, the warring sensations nearly driving him out of his mind. He tangles his fingers in Jensen’s hair and guides Jensen’s head down to his cock, which is fully hard and flushed a deep crimson red. Jensen flicks his tongue over the slit to remove a bead of precome, and Jared’s hips and knees are starting to ache from the tension he’s carrying in his lower body. “Come on,” he urges Jensen in a strained whisper.Jensen straddles Jared’s legs and takes Jared’s substantial cock all the way into his mouth. The tip of his tongue caresses the underside of the head so tenderly that it raises goosebumps on Jared’s skin. Jensen the flattens his tongue and laves the whole shaft bottom to top, slicking it up in preparation for the main event. Jared’s not sure how much more of this he can take, especially if they’re gonna keep doing this for the next two or three days. “Faster. Please,” he gasps.Jensen hollows his cheeks and starts to bob up and down, and Jared has to admit that Jensen is really, really damn good at this. His tongue flutters along the underside of the shaft with each pass in a way that would make Jared’s knees go weak if he were supporting any of his weight on them. As it is, they just hurt, but that’s nothing new. Jared has to force himself not to buck his hips and thrust the way he instinctually wants to, because that’ll just damage his hips and knees further. Instead, he just tries to relax the tension in his lower body so the pain will level off. Jensen seems to take the hint, because he increases the intensity until Jared can barely breathe. Finally, he comes with a long drawn-out moan and spills his seed into Jensen’s mouth. Jensen swallows it all and releases Jared’s cock when he’s done. He crawls up to the head of the bed and flops down beside Jared. “You okay?”Jared nods and reassures him with a quick kiss. “Yeah, I’m good. Just tired and a little sore.”Jensen frowns. “Did I hurt you?”“No, it wasn’t anything you did,” Jared replies immediately. “Just the position. Next time I’ll have you get out the full wedge and we’ll do this right.”Jensen grins at the mention of next time. “You’re gonna keep me on my toes, huh?”“That’s the plan.” Jared pulls Jensen’s head down on his chest and cards his fingers through Jensen’s damp, spiky hair. “Did I tell you how glad I am that you decided to come over?”“Not yet.” Jensen presses a kiss to the hollow of Jared’s throat. “Well, I am,” says Jared, kissing the top of Jensen’s head. “I really, really am.”
10235465	First	{ "Archive Warning": "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Kuroko no Basuke \| Kuroko's Basketball", "Language": "English", "Rating": "Mature", "author": "by minjimin", "chapters": "2/?", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-12T00:00:00", "words": "1,929", "Additional Tags": "Minor Midorima Shintarou/Takao Kazunari, Sakurai Ryo - Freeform, Aomine Daiki - Freeform, Kagami Taiga - Freeform, Kuroko Tetsuya - Freeform, Kise Ryouta - Freeform, kasamatsu yukio - Freeform, himuro tatsuya - Freeform, Murasakibara Atsushi - Freeform, Seirin Pips, Kuroko Tetsuya/Akashi Seijuuro, akashi is an asshole, Furihata is going to be not himself, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Will contain mature scenes", "Relationship": "Akashi Seijuurou/Furihata Kouki", "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 }	Furihata Kouki feels nervous. Why wouldn't he be? He's about to meet- be sold to- his future husband tonight. If no one didn't like what they'll see, it's going to be the end for Furi. Literally. In a world where Omegas have no rights and no voice, he thinks he's lucky enough to have been born into a wealthy family. His parents were lucky enough to have been born as Betas, hardworking enough to build there own airline company, and loving enough that they tried for as long as possible to postpone Kouki's auction. Auction. He hates that word. He's about to be displayed inside a glass room with no clue as to who else is seeing him from the other side; with men probably half his age with wrinkled eyes either dripping with lust or with disgust and they'll be bidding for his life. His life. It was supposed to be his life, yet everyone knows, that it doesn't really belong to him Omegas. They're practically the slaves of the community. Unless you're born with a pretty face or delicious unique scent, you might be lucky to be bought by a rich Alpha. When they turn 18 years of age, they are to be groomed into their best state and be presented in a room full of wealthy Alphas and the one with highest bid gets the Omega. They will belong to them wholly, should attend to their every whim. In return, they'll be properly cared for financially, they will never have to experience working 5 jobs a day just to live or to be a slave for life.That's what happens to Omegas whom nobody wants from the auction. They're either going to have to work hard for themselves or to choose and be a slave for any family who needs one; regardless of whether the Omega originally came from a poor or wealthy family, one may never go back to his family once presented at the auction- it is simply unacceptable for an Omega to be living amongst Betas and Alphas unless they're slaves. Be it a Beta or Alpha, they can take in an Omega as a slave without paying as long as they also provide food and clothing for the slave. This is why most unsold Omegas choose to be slaves. They wouldn't have to worry about food and shelter; Omegas with more sense of pride and independence choose to work to the bone just to escape the crushing hold of enslavement. Betas. Middle class. They're the normal citizens; with equal rights and normal lives. Most of them are kind enough to "adopt" an Omega and treat them as family. Few others are ambitious to lcimb the social ladder by acting Alphas and try to constantly mingle with elites. Alphas. They have the most power in the society. They get what they want , whenever, wherever. Especially if he or she comes from a powerful family, they're practically invincible. It's not uncommon for Alphas to have more than one Omega or Beta; they have a very active sexual drive and cannot be easily sated. They have however like everyone else only have one mate. Mates are for life and cannot be changed; an Alpha can bed as many omegas or betas as he want as long as he takes care mainly of his mate. Once consummated, mates will have the same mark on their wrists as a sign of their bond and can easily track their other halves. And so, going back to our little Furi, if no one will bid for him, he'll be a slave forever. Being the rich omega he is, he'd never experienced any hard work before. He's arranged his tie once more while taking deep breaths. His hands are just won't stay still long enough for him to smooth his tie. A delicate hand reached out and cupped his. "It's going to be fine son." He looked down at his mothers glassy warm brown eyes. "You're strong. I believe in you..." His mother's tears fell down at that. "What if no one will...choose me?"" HIs hands still trembling. Furihata Kiyoko caressed her son's face. They're desperate to keep their Omega son that they've kept him away from the public eye for as long as they can, specially when he turned 18 just last month and his smell became more apparent. But it was just around that time as well when someone from the government came knocking at demanding for their son to be auctioned. "Then we'll find you our Kouki. I swear we will." Her mother bit her lip to try and stop the shaking in her voice. "Just promise me one thing..." Furihata felt more afraid at his mother's tone. "What is it?" "No matter what happens, remember that your life is yours. You fight." A group of men suddenly came in. "Please depart from this room now Furihata-sama. This omega is no longer your son." Kiyoko took one last sorrowful look at her son before being led away. One of the men stepped forward and placed a pin at Furihata's suit jacket. "What is this?" The man ignored him. "You'll be escorted out of this room and be placed with other omegas outside the glass room. You are not to go inside until you hear your name being called. Understood?" Pointing at the pin. "Hai." There are at least 20 omegas along with him. More than ten now have went inside the room and Kouki is just waiting for his "name" to be called. Will they like him? The speaker blared softly again. "Number 12, go inside the room now." Furihata Kouki stood up and walked inside the glass room. ----- CHAPTER BREAK ----- He can’t believe it. Furihata looked down at his hands still trembling.The auction went… Unexpected. He felt cold and bare. Even when he’s fully clothed and can’t see anyone, he can feel all the stares and looks through the tinted glass. The brunette licked and bit his lips absentmindedly, trying to ease a little of his nervousness. Still nothing. Am I this hideous that no one, not a single one wants me? The door he entered through suddenly opened again and in came a middle-aged man in a suit and began bowing profusely. “My apologies sir, we didn’t know of the setup of your ownership. We hope you can forgive us.” He’s not really sure what this man is talking about. “I….what…” The man still won’t look at his eyes and just directed his hand to the door. “Please follow me.” And now he’s here in a room, all alone with not the slightest idea of what’s happening. And for the nth time that day, he got startled with a group of men suddnely barging in unannounced. He quickly stood up, confusion clearly written on his face. “What is happen..” he trailed of when his senses started tingling. There’s this strange sensation he felt. Like his insides are trying to claw its way out; his hearing and sense of smell heightening. The smell of strange mix of musk and something fresh began clouding his mind until he can barely see. The brunette palmed his face in an effort to clear his thoughts. The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was red. Crimson eyes. “My omega…” -o- He felt something soft nudging at his neck right by the pulse point. Then felt hands going by his sides in a calming manner. The strange smell was back. And there was a hot breath by his ear, lips almost touching the skin of the shell. “My omega..” Opening his eyes, he saw once again the crimson orbs which is intensely staring at his form. “Am I dreaming?” This man is beyond gorgeous; with pale skin and flaming red hair with thin bloody red lips which is currently in a form of smirk. He felt a hand taking his and putting it on the man’s face. “You are not my love, I truly am here.” With that the man leaned down to capture Furihata’s lips with his. Surprised, the brunette sat up quickly on the bed which he just realized they’re on and tried to push the redhead away. “What are you doing?!” The hand which began to push at the man’s firm chest was suddenly pinned above his head, his body following and bracing himself before he went back down on the pillows. “I am claiming what is mine.” Then he nipped at Furihata’s neck teasingly. “I bought you so you belong to me.” Now this is really getting confusing. “What? No one bought me, no one wanted me…how.” The redhead’s smirk grew. “Oh if only you knew how much those men wanted you. But no, I’ve claimed you the day I saw you. You are mine, now stop resisting and just give in.”Kouki doesn’t really know what this man is saying but he found himself unable to protest when the redhead dived in once again to give him a searing kiss. Is this what omegas feel all the time with an alpha? A small fire began to build up inside of him as rough hands began tugging at his clothes until he was left with only his dark boxer shorts which are now glistening with pre-cum.“You are really wet my love.”Soft moans escaped his throat before he knew it, closing his eyes with the pleasure he is feeling. The only cloth separing them was removed and then the brunette felt something hard and pulsing on his thigh.That made him open his eyes once again, curiously peering at this man’s body. He found his breath caught at the godly sight before him. If he found the redhead’s face dangerously beautiful like facing the devil himself, then his body must’ve been carved by the gods. Pale flawless skin stretched tight with lean muscles; his small hands trailing from the devil’s chest down to his abdomen leaving goose bumps on their wake and only stopping on the lower torso, ghosting over the skin hesitantly. A large hand pushed his down to hold the throbbing cock of his partner. “You are really cute, getting all shy and hesitant.” The redhead inhaled Furhata’s neck once again. “My pure untouched omega.” He began pumping the smaller man’s hand on his hard shaft all the while looking at Kouki’s glazed orbs fiercely. The boy doesn’t know what exactly he should feel at this; he thought it’d be disgusting but all he’s feeling now is that he wants this man’s hands all over him, he wants to feel more. “Call me Seijuuro.” “Sei…” The name feels light and heavy at the same time. Like he has known and have called the name a million times; his voice heavy with arousal and almost nonexistent. As the last sound left his lips, it was quickly swallowed by Sei’s once again. And as his tongue was gently sucked, the last of Furihata’s consciousness left and from then on was guided by pure instinct. -0- Akashi studied the sleeping form of the smaller boy beside him, absentmindedly stroking the brunette’s bare skin. He couldn’t himself from leaning down and planting a firm kiss on his mate’s neck. He went through a relatively hard and long time to get what is his, and he has no plans of letting go. The redhead found the omega’s pulse and licked the skin gently, as if in apology. “Mine.” He took a quick deep breath before sinking his elongated teeth into Furi’s neck. The reaction was instantaneous.
10258916	Stark Relaxation	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "Multi", "Characters": "Tony Stark, James \"Bucky\" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Janet Van Dyne, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson", "Fandom": null, "Language": "English", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by SailorChibi", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-13T00:00:00", "words": "4,149", "Additional Tags": "Alternate Universe - No Powers, Yoga, yoga instructor jan, yoga instructor natasha, shy tony, embarrassed tony, Bucky is a flirt, Bucky is a tease, natasha is a little evil, and she loves it, Oblivious Tony, Fluff, author knows very little about yoga, or yoga studios, smoothies, everyone knows what's going on but tony, partner yoga, set-ups, everyone's just trying to help, Tony Stark Has a Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Bucky Barnes is a little shit, Steve Rogers is a little shit, Teasing, self-confidence issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Flirting, cuties in love, Crushes, Idiots in Love", "Relationship": "James \"Bucky\" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark", "Character": null, "Relationships": null, "Series": null, "Collections": null, "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 }	In the end, it was Bruce that Tony had to thank. Because it was Bruce’s idea that Tony take up yoga as a method of stress-relief while Tony was trying to deal with the aftermath of Afghanistan at the same time as Stane’s betrayal and the seemingly endless list of criminal acts that Stane had conducted under the mantle of Stark Industries. Of course, Bruce never intended for Pepper to fall in love with the idea of yoga and for Tony to end up opening a yoga studio, but life could be full of surprises like that.Stark Relaxation was the most popular yoga studio in Manhattan. Tony spared no money in purchasing top-of-the-line equipment and hiring the best instructors, but – at Pepper’s suggestion – he kept the cost of a membership as low as possible. The idea was, after all, to reduce stress, not increase financial stress for the consumer. And it worked. Within weeks, every class they offered was fully attended.Tony didn’t go to every class. He didn't even make it every day. He enjoyed yoga, but some of the poses were difficult to do when you had an arc reactor in your chest. But he tried, and his favorite instructor, Jan, was very good about figuring out ways to modify poses so that Tony could more easily do them without putting undue pressure on his chest. Thanks to her, Tony showed up a couple times a week.Which was probably why it was so obvious when he started showing up every day.“Okay,” Jan said, gently pushing on his lower back to straighten it. “Good job. Now, since you can't run away from me, mind telling me who it is that you have a crush on?”Tony wobbled a little, saved only because Jan grabbed his arms and kept from falling over. He knew he was blushing before he looked up, swallowing hard at seeing her mischievous smile way too close for comfort. “What are you talking about?”“Oh come on, Tony. I’m not dumb.” Jan’s eyes swept the room, which had about twenty-five people in varying poses, before returning to him. “It has to be someone who started coming in the past six months,” she mused to herself. “Because that’s when you started coming more often. And you’ve got good taste, so it can’t be… Hmm… Oh. Oh.”“Shut up,” Tony hissed before she could say a word, face flaming. Jan just grinned, her eyes now tracking two spectacular (if Tony did say so himself) asses. Steve Rogers straightened up first, stretching his hands high over his head and giving them both an excellent view of his body from head to toe. Tony’s mouth went dry as Bucky Barnes popped up next to him, lifting his left leg high over his head in a position that most ballet dancers would’ve wept over. They were unfairly graceful and flexible and Tony hated them both a little bit when he didn’t want to fuck them. Or have them fuck him. He wasn’t picky about that part.“Very nice,” Jan said approvingly. “Shut up,” Tony said again. She laughed at him and stood up, clapping her hands. “Great job, class. That’s it for today.”Tony slowly lowered himself to the mat and reached for his towel to wipe his forehead. His chest ached a little, as did the muscles in his shoulders, but otherwise he felt pretty good. He sat up on his knees, sneaking another peek at Steve and Bucky. Much to his horror, Bucky was staring back at him. He winked. Tony choked a little and looked away, grabbing his water bottle.He used to be good at this. He used to be able to flirt seamlessly with the best of them. He thought back on those days with increasing longing now, though he honestly couldn’t remember ever trying to flirt with people as hot as Steve or Bucky. Of course, maybe the biggest problem was that both of them were genuinely nice guys, even if they could be sarcastic little shits. Tony didn’t just want to fuck-or-be-fucked, he might have a small crush.Or a large crush, depending on who you asked. Pepper’s opinion did not count.“Good class,” Steve said to Jan. “Thanks.”“My pleasure,” Jan said. “Tony, can I talk to you for a minute before you run off?”Damn. Tony should’ve jumped up and left immediately. He scowled and sat back down on his mat, watching out of the corner of his eye as Steve bent down to roll up his mat. Shit, that ass. It was perfect. Tony’s fingers twitched with the desire to touch just once, but he was pretty sure that Bucky and Steve were in a relationship and so one or both of them would probably have a big problem with that.One by one, the others filed out. Steve smiled at Tony, mouthing ‘smoothie?’ at him to which Tony could only nod helplessly. He wasn’t going to turn down the option to hang out with either one of them no matter how torturous it was, though he could’ve done without Natasha’s smirks or Sam’s knowing looks. He really did have the worst taste in friends sometimes. Jan walked back over once they were gone and sat down beside him. “I figured it was them. I just wanted you to confirm. I like them. I approve.”“So glad to hear it,” Tony muttered, mortified that she’d noticed. Clearly he needed to stop coming to class if he was being so obvious.Her smile softened. “They’re good guys, Tony. I’ve taught them before. They attended the last yoga studio I worked at and followed me here when I left.” She gently bumped their shoulders together. “You could do worse.”“I’m pretty sure they’re already dating,” Tony pointed out.“Not everyone is committed to monogamy.”Tony snorted. “Yeah, but let’s face it. No one’s going to be interested in me for a partner, Jan. Not now.” He was old and tired and his body was a mess. That ship had sailed a long time ago. “Even if they did want me for a quick fuck, which I find very hard to believe, there’s no way in hell anyone would want more.”“Don’t talk about my friend like that,” Jan scolded, swatting him on the shoulder. “You’re a good guy.”“Yeah, great,” Tony said. He tried to smile, but was pretty sure it came out as a grimace. Jan was too nice. She and Tony had grown up together in the same circles, drifting in and out of each other’s lives. They’d largely lost contact for the past ten years until Tony made the impulsive decision to open up Stark Relaxation and Jan applied to be a yoga instructor. He’d hired her immediately.“It’s the truth,” she said, but she seemed to understand that he didn’t feel like talking. She put a hand on his arm. “Do you want me to ask them to switch to another class?”“No, Jan. God no.” He thought back to the wink Bucky had thrown his way and flushed. It wouldn’t take a genius to work out why Jan was asking, and that was too mortifying to think about. “I’m a big boy. I can handle a stupid little crush. Besides, I’m not sure I would keep coming if I didn’t have such good eye candy.”“What about me?”“Besides you,” Tony said, patting her hand. It wasn’t a lie, either. Jan filled out her suit pretty nicely. There was more than one guy in the class who came purely for her. Too bad for them that Jan was happily married in an exclusive, monogamous relationship. Jan preened. “And don’t you forget it. Now go. I wouldn’t want you to miss your date.”“It’s not a date!”She just smiled patronizingly and hopped up, annoyingly nimble, to strut to the front of the class. Tony frowned at her back and sighed, slowly gathering his things together. His chest ached a lot more when he stood up, and he winced. Maybe coming six days a week was overkill. Bruce, Pepper and Rhodey would team up to kill him if Tony stressed his body too much and wound up back in the hospital.But it was worth it when he left the studio portion of the building and entered the smoothie bar. So worth it. Bucky grinned when Tony walked in, like he was actually happy to see Tony, and Steve beckoned him over excitedly. Tony walked over, unsurprised to see that Natasha, Clint, and Sam had already joined them. He sat down in between Steve and Bucky, noticing with a little flutter of his stomach that there was already a smoothie waiting for him, and narrowed his eyes at Clint.“Do I pay you to do anything other than sit around drinking smoothies?”“You pay me to make awesome smoothies when I'm not sitting at the front desk looking beautiful,” Clint said, batting his eyelashes.Tony just looked at him, unimpressed. “If I wanted someone beautiful, I would’ve hired Natasha for that.”“Hey!”Sam, Steve and Bucky snorted with laughter. Natasha smiled and reached over to run her fingers through Tony’s hair. “You get to live another day.”Clint sulked. “Natasha’s drinking smoothes too instead of working. Why don’t you say anything to her?”“Because I’m not completely stupid,” Tony said. Just stupid enough to fall for two young, hot, unavailable men.Natasha smirked at Clint. “I work. Teaching yoga requires discipline.”“You ate a whole pizza last night.”“I was hungry.”“It was a large!”She shrugged. “You don’t understand my methods,” she said coolly, and Tony was 80% sure that she was just fucking with Clint. But this was Natasha, so who knew?Sam shook his head at the two of them and turned back to Steve. “So, you working tomorrow night?”Tony sat quietly and sipped at his smoothie. It was banana-strawberry-kiwi, which was one of his favorites. He wondered who had ordered it for him. He wanted to think it had been Steve or Bucky, but statistically it was more likely Natasha. She hung out with Jan a lot, and Tony had joined them before Steve and Bucky started coming to the studio. He listened as Sam and Steve made plans to go out to some bar later tonight. Tony had a stack of paperwork as high as his shoulder waiting for him tonight. And if by some miracle he managed to get through that, he had a mountain of other work to grind through. Just one more reminder that he was way too old for any of these people, much less Bucky or Steve. That did remind him though. He looked at Bucky. “Any new feedback?”“Nope. It’s workin’ great,” Bucky said. He rotated his shoulder. Even though he was wearing a sweatshirt, Tony still stared critically at his arm. Bucky was wearing a Stark prosthetic now, though when they’d met he’d been wearing something hideous that Tony sincerely hoped he’d burned by now. Two months ago, Tony had talked him into taking one by pretending that he needed a willing guinea pig. After all, Stark Industries had only been creating prosthetics for about two years. In a lot of ways, they were still in the testing phase.The fact that he’d poured way more personal attention into Bucky’s arm was something that Bucky never needed to know. Some of the features Bucky had – heat, sensation, awareness of temperatures – either hadn’t been rolled out yet or were just starting to be introduced to the market. He’d essentially given away thousands of dollars, but Tony didn’t care. It was worth every penny to see Bucky’s smile. “Great. If you think of anything, let me know.” Tony pushed his chair back.“You’re leaving already?” Steve said, looking disappointed.“Sorry, boys. And girl,” he amended. Natasha smiled. “I have work to do.”Bucky glanced at Steve with a look that Tony couldn’t define, then said, “You in tomorrow?”Tony calculated the ache in his chest and Pepper’s wrath if he didn’t come through on paperwork and a new tablet against the twin hopeful smiles he was receiving and regretfully shook his head. “No can do, Buckaroo. Sorry. Duty calls.”“What about Friday? Bucky and I are planning to attend Natasha’s class that night.” There was no way he could say no twice. He did some mental rearranging of his schedule – he was used to freeing up the 2pm block, but it wouldn’t be too hard to come at 7pm instead – and nodded. “Sure. Friday.”“See you then,” Steve said with that beautiful smile that always made Tony’s stomach flutter.“See you,” Tony mumbled, then escaped before anyone could notice how hot his face felt again. He actually would’ve forgotten all about Friday night had it not been for Jan’s reminder; she texted him at 6:30 using all caps and too many exclamation points. Tony dashed through the world’s quickest shower and still ended up late. He slunk into the class at 7:02pm, keenly aware of the heat of Natasha’s glare on the top of his head, and looked around the class. His throat tightened when he realized the only available spot was between Steve and Bucky.Shit.He backed up a step. “Maybe I’ll just –”“Stark.” Natasha sounded quietly pissed. “Put your matt down. Now.”It had not taken long for Tony to figure out that disobeying Natasha when she got that look on her face was a death sentence. He quickly laid out his matt and joined the rest of the class in stretching. Natasha glared at him for a little while longer before she looked away, and Tony exhaled in relief. Bucky shot him a smirk. Tony stuck his tongue out in response and then lowered his head before Natasha noticed.“Okay. As you all know, the format for the class is a little different today.”What?“We’re trying out couple’s yoga.”What?!“So go ahead and join up with your partner. We’ll start with something easy. Partner breathing.”Tony looked on in horror as Natasha described the pose, which sounded easy enough – it was basically sitting back to back with your legs crossed – but was also more contact than he’d had with anyone since coming back from Afghanistan. Jan was on the other side of Steve, he wondered a little frantically if he could get to her in time – “I don’t have a partner,” Bucky drawled. “Help a guy out, Tony?”“I – what?” Tony turned his head just in time to see Steve and Jan getting into position. He turned back to Bucky’s expectant face and swallowed dryly. “I – okay?”“Great.” Bucky’s grin was distinctly shark-like as he dragged his matt closer, then sat down. Tony was much slower to sit, trying not to cringe away when Bucky scooted up close to him. Their backs were one long line of heat and the contact made his heart speed up, but not in the way he'd expected. He wasn't panicking like he thought he might. If anything, the contact felt nice.“Breathe together,” Natasha instructed, pacing back and forth. “I want you to notice your breath. Pay attention to how the back of your rib cage feels against your partners. When you’re comfortable, breathe alternately. You inhale when your partner exhales and vice versa. This will help to you ground and connect you.”Tony stared straight ahead. The problem was that he was focusing a little too hard on Bucky. “You okay, doll?” Bucky whispered over his shoulder. “You’re breathin’ hard.”“I’m fine,” Tony croaked, realizing he had to calm down. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Thank god for Bruce and that meditation crap he always pushing on Tony. It was easier to get himself under control than he’d expected. Falling into a rhythm of breathing opposite Bucky was a little harder, but he managed. It was surprisingly soothing.“Good job,” Natasha said, her voice surprisingly warm. “Now I’d like you to try the twist.”“Sounds dirty,” Bucky muttered.Tony choked a little. “I don’t think –”“Inhale and reach your arms up over your head, lengthening your spine,” Natasha said, talking right over them with only a sideways glance to acknowledge that she’d heard them. “Then exhale and twist to your right. Bring your right hand to the inside of your partner’s left knee. Let your own left hand rest on the outside of your right knee.”All of a sudden, Tony had Bucky’s hand on his knee. He stared at that hand in shocked horror, because there was only a thin layer of cloth between Bucky’s hand and his own skin.“Tony?” Natasha called out. “Are you okay? You’re not following the instructions.” She looked amused, damn her. Tony narrowed his eyes.“I’m fine,” he snapped, twisting. He awkwardly set his hand on Bucky’s knee, too tense to relax into the stretch. They had to hold the move for what felt like an embarrassingly long time.“And release,” Natasha said, mouth twitching. “We’re going to repeat that on the opposite side, now.”Of course they were. Tony moved with the rest of the class this time, stretching his hands over his head and then twisting to the left. His breath stuttered in his lungs when Bucky’s hand landed substantially higher up his thigh. It was maybe, if Tony was being generous, five inches from his dick. Five very small inches. Some of the blood in his body definitely rushed south, and it took every ounce of will power Tony possessed not to pop a full boner then and there.Yoga pants didn’t hide much, and Natasha had an eagle eye. She would definitely notice.“Release,” Natasha said. “Excellent. We’re going to repeat this process four more times for a total of ten.”It was like she was deliberately torturing him. He couldn't help shooting her a glare. She just smirked back at him and encouraged the class to 'deepen the stretch', which meant that Bucky's hand landed about two inches from his dick this time. So close that the knuckle of his index finger could've brushed against Tony's dick if Tony got any more aroused, because there was no holding it back now.And the next twenty minutes didn't get any better, either. None of the positions could be accused of being inappropriate, but Bucky sure didn't hesitate to go the extra mile and make them inappropriate. By the time Natasha was calling out the last pose, Tony was aching for relief and wondering how fast he could scuttle out of class afterwards to jerk off. He was also pretty sure that Natasha knew exactly what kind of affect this was having, and he was praying that Bucky didn't."We're going to end with the temple pose. Stand apart, lean forward. Touch elbows, forearms and hands together. Ideally, you're looking for your body to make a perfect 'L' shape," Natasha said. She passed by Tony and Bucky without looking at them, calling out instructions to the others. Tony bent forward quickly, relieved for any pose that kept his lower half away from Bucky. His elbows knocked against Bucky's, then their forearms and finally hands.Bucky's hands were larger than his, Tony noticed belatedly. He tried to pretend that that realization didn't make his dick twitch happily, and forbid his mind from conjuring up an delicious fantasy about what Bucky could use those big hands for. There would be time for that later, when he wasn't so close to staring the man dead in the face.Hands landed on Tony's hips, pulling him back a couple of steps and making him strain more to reach Bucky. Someone stepped up against him, so close that their crotch was nestled snugly against Tony's ass, and leaned against him, forcing him to bend down a little more. Tony grunted in surprise, still looking into Bucky's face. Bucky was smirking now, eyes alight with what could only be described as mischief."You're not making an 'L' shape," Steve breathed in Tony's ears.The sound Tony made was more like a croak than actual words, since he was pretty sure he was dying. He stared at Bucky, speechless, as Bucky slowly intertwined their fingers so that they were holding hands. Steve was breathing on his neck, one long line of heat against Tony's back, and was that - holy shit, was that Steve's dick against his ass? He was vaguely aware of the class moving on around them, but he couldn't seem to move."And that's it for the class," Natasha said. "Good work, everyone.""Some of us did better work than others," Jan said, grinning. Their voices jolted Tony out of the strange unreality he'd fallen into, and he bolted upright instead of moving slowly. Something in his lower back twinged, but it was worth the pain since it meant he could take a step forward away from Steve. Or at least he intended to. Bucky still had a hold on his hands, though he'd straightened up much slower than Tony, and Steve's hands were still on his hips.In what seemed like a remarkably short amount of time, the rest of the class cleared out. Natasha was the last to leave, and she winked at Tony over her shoulder before she shut the door. With the music switched off, the room was quiet aside from their breathing and Tony's racing heartbeat. It sounded like thunder in his ears, especially when Bucky lifted his right hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it."You're kinda oblivious," he said. "Stevie and I have been tryin' to ask you for like two months now, but you never picked up on any hints. This was Jan's idea.""What?" Tony squeaked, not sure which part of that sentence shocked him more. Jan was supposed to be the good cop to Natasha's evil. He couldn't believe she'd set him up like this. "She seemed to think that we'd need to be really, really forward to make you understand what we wanted," Steve explained. His voice was a husky rumble that sent chills down Tony's spine. "I... what?" That seemed to be the only word Tony was capable of saying at the moment.Steve sighed, sounding amused. "Would you like to go out on a date with us, Tony?""But you... you're dating," Tony said. "Yeah, we are. And we'd like to date you too," Bucky said."Why?""'Cause you're gorgeous?" Bucky said, raising an eyebrow. "Why do you think I arm-wrestled Steve for the chance to be your partner tonight?""Cheated. Cheated at arm wrestling," Steve corrected."I did not cheat!""You did so. You kicked me to make me lose focus!""I can't help it if your big feet are in the way!"Out of the corner of his eye, Tony noticed something. The door, which had been closed before, was now open a crack. He could four sets of eyes peering in at them: Jan, Natasha, Clint and Sam. Jan gave him a thumbs up. Tony widened his eyes at her, wishing that he could push everyone aside for like five minutes just so that he could have time to think. But then Natasha gave him a thumps up to and... well, that counted for something, right?"Okay."Steve, who had stepped around Tony to get in Bucky's face, and Bucky stopped in mid-argument, both of them turning to look at him. "What did you say?" Steve said."I said okay. We can go out on a date.""Really?" Bucky's eyes lit up. "When?"Tony had to stop and think about it. "Uh... how about tomorrow night? I don't care where." He didn't want to give them too much time to change their minds about the offer. He had no idea what had possessed the two of them to ask him out, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth."How about Mocha?" Steve suggested, and Tony smiled in surprise. He'd mentioned a couple of times that Mocha was one of his favorite restaurants. He couldn't believe that Steve had remembered."Sure, that sounds great," he said, hardly able to believe this was happening."Do you have time to get a smoothie right now?" Bucky asked."The studio's closing," Steve reminded him. He glanced at his watch. "Actually, they're closed.""I have the feeling that my barista won't mind staying around an extra few minutes if it means he keeps his job instead of being fired for eavesdropping," Tony said wryly."What?!" Clint yelled. "Natasha's eavesdropping too!" He then yelped in pain as Natasha punched him."Idiots," Steve muttered, rolling his eyes, but he and Bucky were both grinning at Tony and Tony couldn't help grinning back. He definitely had a lot to thank Bruce for.
10222037	Korol vypusknogho bala	{ "Archive Warning": "No Archive Warnings Apply", "Category": "M/M", "Characters": null, "Fandom": "Original Work", "Language": "Русский", "Rating": "Teen And Up Audiences", "author": "by Gierre", "chapters": "1/1", "completed": "", "published": "2017-03-11T00:00:00", "words": "8,214", "Additional Tags": "Romance, Drama, Male Slash, Male Homosexuality, Gay Male Character, Relationship(s), Humor, LGBTQ Themes", "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 }	Для Николая носить безупречно отглаженные рубашки и натертую до блеска обувь было нормой жизни. Каждый день рано утром он приступал к рутине, выискивая притаившиеся складочки на рукавах, оттирая щеткой следы едкой присыпки для дорог, бритвой соскабливая растительность, которая нарушала его идеальный облик. На все про все уходило чуть меньше часа, но внешний вид был визитной карточкой студента, его возможностью перепрыгнуть через головы «блатной» молодежи. Например, без проблем сдать сложный экзамен, или пройти собеседование на стажировку в крупную компанию. Сегодняшний день был особенным в его биографии, но Коля вел себя естественно. Подправлял стрелки на брюках, стряхивал пылинки с пиджака, проверял наличие пятен на деловом портфеле. — С добрым утром, штудентик! Николай посмотрел на часы и покивал собственным мыслям. Вот и проснулся его родной брат, простодушный громила Данечка, гроза двора и кумир девчонок. Как обычно, через пять минут после финальной попытки будильника достучаться до его сознания. Сейчас начнет торопиться. Данила ворвался на кухню, переворачивая по пути табуретку, и плеснул себе в кружку заботливо сваренный Николаем кофе. — Ну, что, братиш, сегодня покажешь им всем? — улыбаясь во все лицо, осведомился Даня, остановившись перед родным братом. Его пижама с детскими слониками — дань моде на инфантильность — была залита кофе ничуть не меньше, чем кафель кухни под ним и стол, где остался френч-пресс с порцией напитка для Николая. — Ну, что ты морщишься! Давай, улыбнись! Мир прекрасен, птички поют, ура-ура, завтра ты уже не штудентик, а сотрудник самой настоящей крупной корпорации! Два года менеджером самого среднего звена, и у тебя откроется ворох перспективнейших возможностей! Ну, не забудешь тогда про братика? — Даня своей огромной лапищей похлопал по спине Николая, оставляя на кипенно-белой рубашке четкий след от кофе. — Тебя очень сложно забыть, — нахмурился Коля. — Хотя я стараюсь изо дня в день. Дань, давай уже вали на работу, мне теперь переодеваться. Вот посмотри, что ты сделал! Они разошлись через полчаса, когда Николай уселся за стол уплетать мюсли, а Даня с бутербродом наперевес полетел по лестнице многоэтажки, игнорируя лифт. Ведь так быстрее! Колю такая иррациональность попеременно то вводила в ступор, то заставляла смеяться. Доев полезную пищу, он выпил чашку кофе, оставил посуду в раковине и, аккуратно закрыв дверь на два замка, отправился к ближайшей станции метрополитена. Дане хорошо, он нашел себе работу возле дома, пять минут пешком по парку, а вот Коле приходилось таскаться на другой конец Нерезиновой, чтобы удерживать хрупкий статус стажера. Многие одногруппники Николая вместо невыгодной стажировки нашли себе сразу какое-никакое рабочее место. Им платили копейки, по столичным меркам, но все-таки это были «уже деньги». Коля продумал свою карьеру на первом курсе, руководствуясь соответствующей методичкой, и в его плане стажировка была очень важной ступенью. Шагом в светлое будущее. Двери современного бизнес-центра послушно разъехались, когда он подошел к заветному зданию. Вот оно, святилище юристов, экономистов, бухгалтеров и менеджеров самых разных профилей. Центральный офис крупной аудиторской фирмы. Несмотря на то, что Коля работал здесь уже два года, сначала на полставки, а потом, по договоренности, целый день, заходить в здание каждый раз было волнительно. Без особых фантазий, но со здоровой долей оптимизма он представлял себе, что будет через пять лет. Какой должности он сможет добиться за это время? Если работа шла гладко, он представлял себя начальником отдела, если начальство было недовольно, планка опускалась чуть ниже. Все, как сказано в методичке, в точном соответствии с техникой самомотивации. Сюда мечтали пристроить своих деток не только представители зажиточного пролетариата, но и весьма обеспеченные люди. Чиновники, политики, руководители корпораций государственного уровня. Для карьерного роста, для записи в трудовой книжке это место подходило идеально. Ну, как же! Филиал западного холдинга! Николай добрался до рабочего места, налил себе из офисного автомата кофе, разложил бумаги и включил компьютер. Начинался еще один рабочий день, который, впрочем, должен был завершиться на полтора часа раньше обычного, потому что Коля вечером собирался отмечать с одногруппниками окончание специалитета. Диплом им вручили накануне, и для этого пришлось договариваться о выходном дне. Николай хотел обойтись без застолья, но подключился Даня, начал сыпать аргументами про традиции и важность момента, так что застигнутый врасплох эйфорией от успешной сдачи госов, Коля дал свое добро и даже внес пять тысяч кровных в общий фонд. С приближением вечера пять тысяч превращались в воображении Николая в самые разные бытовые предметы. Например, на них, вместо бессмысленной попойки, можно было купить неплохой пиджак и брюки. На распродаже, конечно, но в его случае выбирать не приходится. Пока он сидит на шее у брата, каждая копейка — это нарастающий долг, который однажды придется выплатить. Данила никогда не говорил «нахлебнику», что ожидает возврата вложенных в него средств, но Коля считал это своей священной обязанностью. Он был искренне благодарен брату за то, что тот не позволил забрать молодого безбашенного подростка Коляна в детский дом, а пошел на работу и добился статуса опекуна. Теперь Николай закончил вуз, а все благодаря тому, что старший брат верил в него, несмотря на все ошибки юности. «Бессмысленная попойка» приближалась с неумолимостью снежной лавины в горах, а Коля постепенно понимал, что уйти с работы раньше у него никак не получится. Начальница отдела, будто нарочно, завалила его бумажками. Теряясь в дебрях статистики, бедный Коленька судорожно смотрел на циферблат часов, понимая, что «вот сейчас нужно было выйти». Обратиться к Елене Петровне с просьбой отложить работу до завтрашнего дня он не мог, потому что карьерному росту такое заявление точно не помогло бы. Начальница про его положение знала, и, раз просит сейчас, значит, так нужно. Большинство коллег уже покинуло офис, когда Николай получил СМСку от брата: «Ну, что, уже закадрил себе цыпулю?». Данил все радел о его личной жизни, напрочь при этом забыв о своей собственной. «Я еще на работе, пришлось остаться», — написал в ответ Коля, надеясь, что брат проявит здравомыслие и сдержанность. «Козлы они там у тебя, пиши, как закончишь!». Действительно, проявил. Данила иногда вел себя как необразованный спортсмен (каковым и являлся формально), но редкие вспышки глубинного понимания делали его человеком сложным и мудрым в бытовом смысле слова. Коля часто представлял себе, каким стал бы его старший брат, если бы они не лишились родителей, и оба могли опираться на семейный бюджет в своем развитии. Может быть, сейчас Данила был бы чьей-нибудь Еленой Петровной. — Боюсь, Коленька, вы опять сделали ошибки, — нахмурилась начальница, проверяя последнюю версию отчета. — Пересчитайте, пожалуйста, сальдо еще раз. Ваши цифры не сходятся. Николай, который был уверен, что все версии его отчетов сегодня были правильными, позволил себе задать начальству вопрос: — Елена Петровна, вы не могли бы мне показать, где именно ошибка. Мне кажется, я плохо понимаю, о чем вы говорите. Наступая на горло собственным принципам, он одновременно испытывал страх и гордость. Придет время, когда такие, как Елена Петровна, сами будут составлять для него отчеты, и сейчас, в этот момент триумфа, он чувствовал себя на миллиметр ближе к тому состоянию. — Коленька, ну, что же вы, думаете, я за вас все делать буду? — Елена Петровна нахмурилась еще сильней, поправила очки и добавила очень многозначительно. — Боюсь, мне придется поговорить о вашем поведении с Игорем Сергеевичем. Идите домой, вам лучше отдохнуть. Николай увидел, как стремительно отдаляется от створок заветного карьерного лифта. Вот он был в двух шагах от перемещения на следующий этаж, а вот уже он у самого входа в здание. Теперь его уволят или выдадут «желтую карточку» — предупреждение с занесением в личное дело. Два таких предупреждения, и стажировка завершена. Он брел в злосчастный кафетерий, пиная по дороге мусор, и думал о том, что пять тысяч рублей, одолженных у брата, он обменял на позорный билет увольнения. Теперь придется начинать все сначала — два года коту под хвост. Рекомендации ему, конечно же, не дадут, да и про пункт в резюме можно даже не думать. Вот так все и решилось, в один вечер. Стоит хоть раз показать зубы, и ты уже на обочине жизни. — Отличник удостоил нас своим визитом! — заверещала Галечка, осыпав Николая конфетти из хлопушки. — Ура-ура, мы все в сборе! — Чего хмурый, Чистоплюич? — ехидно поинтересовался уже изрядно пьяный Иван из дальнего уголка. Не то чтобы друг, так — приятель. Чистоплюичем он называл Колю еще с первого курса. После первой рюмки отечественной дешевой водки, которую сокурсники купили едва ли не оптом, Коля принял в этот день еще одно важное решение. Напиться. Напиться до такого состояния, что вечернее происшествие на работе потеряет всякий смысл. Вместе с Иваном они пили за преподавателей, за предметы, за карьеру, за школьные годы чудесные, за будущих детей и внуков, за себя, за своих будущих жен, за своих бывших девушек, а потом просто так, глубокомысленно окидывая взглядом бутылку и потолок. Дескать, ну, сам понимаешь, о чем я! «Братишко, забери меня скорей, увози за сто морей!» — хихикая, написал он Даниле, когда родной циферблат на часах показал пять утра. Иван мирно храпел на столике, погрузив голову в тарелку с закусками, но сам Николай отключиться не мог. Мысли все еще вертелись в его голове. Данила пришел с противным стаканом чего-то «полезного» и проследил, чтобы брат выпил содержимое до дна. Потом подхватил Колю и помог ему выйти из прокуренного, пропитанного запахом перегара и рвоты помещения на свежий воздух. — Прогуляемся? — спокойно наблюдая за тем, как Николай выплескивает остатки вечера на улицу, предложил он. И протянул салфетки. В экстренных ситуациях Даня проявлял больше здравомыслия, чем все человечество разом. Они побрели в сторону дома, хотя идти пешком предстояло не меньше получаса. Учитывая состояние Коли, гораздо больше получаса. — Выперли, что ли? — спросил Данила, когда заметил, что брат переходит из состояния алкогольного угара в более вменяемое по части восприятия информации похмелье. — Ты-то откуда знаешь? — Чтобы ты убивался по чему-то, кроме своей любимой работы? — фыркнул Даня. — И потом, Маринка тебя год назад бросила, так что… — Это я ее бросил! Я! — возразил Коля. Вопрос имел принципиальное значение для психологии победителя, описанной в популярной книге по достижению успеха. — Да как угодно, — отмахнулся Данила. — За что хоть выперли? — Еще не выперли, сегодня выпрут, — отозвался Коля и с досадой добавил вопрос, который мучил его весь вечер. — Чего я делать-то буду? — Ну, поигрался в мечты про богему, добро пожаловать в реальность, — рассмеялся Даня. — Иди ты! — Я-то пойду, а вот тебе надо проспаться и поискать нормальную работу, — Данила потрепал брата по голове. — Все, король выпускного бала, мечты закончились, началась, мать ее, жизнь. * Следующие недели превратились для Николая в череду унижений, разочарований и ноющей тоски по прошлому. Потеряв работу, нарушив выстроенный с такой тщательностью жизненный план, столкнувшись с жестоким рынком труда кризисной экономики, Коля доживал до вечера, мечтая о бутылке пива.Бутылок становилось все больше, и однажды за пьянкой его застукал Данила.— Та-а-ак, это еще что такое?! — обычно добродушный Даня сдвинул брови, оценивая количество пустых бутылок. — Что за повод на сей раз?— Мне сказали, что я недостаточно компетентен для должности секретаря-референта, — захихикал Николай. — Мои навыки не позволяют мне управляться с ксероксом и варить кофе, прикинь?— Размером груди не подошел, расслабься, — брат плюхнулся рядом. — Ты опять к себе чересчур строг. Найди уже работу, чтобы не сидеть без дела. Ну, знаешь, что-нибудь бездумное.— Грузчиком, ага, — рассмеялся Коленька, вытрясая со дна банки остатки пива.— Грузчиком с твоей комплекцией тебя никто не возьмет. На охранника нужно учиться. Остается уборщик, — совершенно серьезно заявил Данила, забирая пустую бутылку из рук Коли. — Завтра поговорю с Савельичем, послезавтра выйдешь, нам уборщик давно нужен был, Марфа Степановна не справляется, старость, знаешь ли.— Эй-эй, стой, у меня завтра перспективное собеседование! — возмутился Коля.— Поэтому ты нажрался как свинья и смотришь порнуху? — Даня указал на телевизор, где две сексапильных блондинки и один накачанный брюнет предавались запретной страсти.— А, это, ну, так… — отмахнулся Николай. Ему действительно было фиолетово, смотреть ли порно или канал Дискавери.— Вот я о том же, — кивнул Данила. — Поработаешь два месяца, выплачу тебе сам премию, купишь новый костюмчик, и вперед. Тебе надо отвлечься, братишка, и очень капитально отвлечься. Был у нас один парень в зале…Рассказ про «парня в зале» Коля пропустил мимо ушей, но мудрость старшего брата поразила его в очередной раз. Тот прекрасно уловил его настроение: боль, отчаяние и полный раздрай в мыслях. С такими исходными данными неудивительно, что его не берут на должность секретаря. В конце концов, секретарь должен отвечать на звонки, разговариваться с людьми, общаться с шефом, а Николай сейчас может только изысканно посылать на три буквы. * Фирма, в которой работал охранником Данила, занималась, как назло, тем самым аудитом, от которого бежал, как от огня, Коля. Но брат был на хорошем счету, и Савельич, местный завхоз, без лишних вопросов принял новенького, даже подыскал ему чистую форму и полный комплект необходимого для уборки инвентаря.Первый день был для Николая настоящим испытанием, но по мере того, как он замечал, что окружающие либо не замечают его, либо относятся со странным пониманием, ему становилось легче. Кроме Николая офисы убирали еще шесть человек, и трое из них были примерно одного с Коленькой возраста. В отличие от других сотрудников, уборщики вместе не тусовались, и вообще старались как можно реже пересекаться по любому поводу. Коля понял, что эта работа для них — тот самый временный вариант, и они изо всех сил стараются отгородиться от нее, не влиться в рутину.Дни шли на удивление ровной чередой. Уборка умиротворяла Николая, и он медленно возвращался в прежний ритм жизни. Готовил для брата кофе по утрам, гладил одежду, старался вовремя выносить мусор и убирать в квартире. Днем он словно медитировал, раскладывая бумажки по соответствующим пакетам, отчищая столы от кофейных кружков, извлекая из мусорных ведер сотрудников странные предметы вроде помады или нижнего белья. Иногда по результатам работы вечером можно было сочинять целые истории.Первую зарплату ему выдавал Савельич лично.— Колюнь, ты уж прости, но справляешься ты отлично. Умница, я вот тебе даже кой-какую премию выбил. Ты не подумай, все законно, ничего от себя не прибавил. Спасибо, прямо помог, а то Марфа Степановна вся зашивалась. Молодежь-то спустя рукава работает, ей домывать приходилось, а тут ты. Прям спасение. Данила сказал, что ты у нас на время, ну, так ты бы поработал еще полгодика, а? Уж так сложно не пьющего найти, — седовласый Савельич расстроено качал головой.— Да я, Степан Савельич, честно говоря, надеюсь потом в офис устроиться, — признался Коля. К такому человеческому общению на работе он совершенно не привык.— Это понятно, понятно, — закивал старичок. — Я старый, но все ж таки не дурак. Марфе Степановне просто еще полгода работать, а потом уже пенсия, отдых, да и внуки подсобить обещали. Ей бы сейчас не… ну, понимаешь?Николай прекрасно понимал, что пропоице Марфе нужна была серьезная помощь. Несмотря на то, что за месяц они ни разу не поздоровались, Коля несколько раз случайно сталкивался с бутылкой спиртного, оставленной забывчивой работницей. Савельичу Марфа приходилась далекой родственницей.— Я постараюсь, — кивнул Коля, сам не понимая, зачем говорит это. Какое ему дело до того, что бездетная алкоголичка не дотянет до пенсии? Да и Савельича он знать не знает…— Вот и спасибо тебе, что попробуешь, — тут же кивнул старичок. — Чтоб ты не подумал, что мы тут над тобой смеемся или еще что, вот тебе ключик. — В руке завхоза «ключик» возник как по волшебству. — Будешь убирать кабинет шефа. Шеф у нас человек солидный, может, видел. Работает допоздна. Убирала у него Марфа Степановна, пока не захрапела под дверью, чтоб ей… С тех пор никак не найдем ему уборщика. Очень он лютует, если бумажки на столе тронуть. Или провод если задеть неудачно. Ну, этот, интернетный.Николай сообщил, что понял все пожелания и побежал домой со счастливой улыбкой. Коря себя за малодушие, он все равно не мог остановиться и прыгал от радости в связи с первым в жизни повышением. Убирать кабинет шефа — это не хухры-мухры! * Марфа Степановна, словно уловив, что ее стали поддерживать еще активней, дала волю пагубной привычке и несколько дней вовсе не появлялась на рабочем месте. Однажды Коле пришлось прикрыть ее перед шефом.— Скажите, а где эта женщина, которая здесь раньше убирала? — ни с того ни с сего спросил вдруг хозяин кабинета, где вот уже неделю «работал» Николай. До сих пор они не взаимодействовали ни разу, и даже не обменялись приветствиями, поскольку по инструкции Савельича уборщику строго настрого запрещалось отвлекать шефа.— Приболела она, — коротко ответил Коля.— Вот как, — шеф отвлекся от монитора и заглянул в пустую кружку с кофе. Николай подумал, что сейчас его отправят подработать мальчиком на побегушках, но ошибся — шеф просто тяжело вздохнул и поставил кружку на место. — Вас как зовут?— Николай.— Леонид Андреевич, — зачем-то представился шеф. — Спасибо, что убираете у меня. За неделю ни разу кабель не отсоединился, и бумаги в порядке. Спасибо. Месяц мучился, никак не мог объяснить. Ладно, Николай, давайте дальше работать.Коля кивнул и продолжил уборку, мысленно удивляясь случившемуся диалогу. Елена Петровна за два года его стажировки не сказала и одного доброго слова, а тут «спасибо», ни с того ни с сего.Шеф отправился домой раньше обычного, и когда дверь за ним закрылась, Коля решил убрать кабинет получше, чтобы, с одной стороны, решить на ближайшие дни проблему с загрязнением пола под креслом руководителя, а, с другой стороны, отблагодарить за внезапно свалившееся «спасибо».Николай подошел к столу и посмотрел на папки. Знакомые отчеты, распечатки статистики, выдержки из учебников и статей. Он почувствовал прилив любопытства и энтузиазма. Захотелось узнать, чем занимается этот странный руководитель, который любит поговорить с уборщиками.На вершине завала красовался листок с речью. Дата на верхней части страницы намекнула Коле, что это вступительное слово к завтрашнему совещанию. Вцепившись взглядом в текст, он быстро прочитал его и подметил несколько интересных цифр.Цифры всегда были для Николая особой областью. В отличие от тех, кто считал математику абстрактной наукой, Коля искренне полагал, что математика — единственная наука, которая говорит о реальности. Нет ничего конкретней и понятней, чем цифры. Прибавляя два к двум, вы всегда получите четыре, и это может отражать как ваш прогресс в математике первого класса, так и динамику сальдо крупной корпорации. Математика — это воплощение демократии и материализма одновременно. Для Коли математика была философией жизни.Он посмотрел на часы, подарок отца, сделанный за год до их с матерью смерти. Часы тикали ровно и четко. Цифры на них отмеряли жизнь Николая.Погрузившись в воспоминания, он не сразу сообразил, что уже несколько минут сидит в кресле шефа. За окном стемнело, и, кроме него самого и охраны на пропускной, в здании давно никого не осталось.Была не была! Он открыл первую попавшуюся папку и начал читать. Когда перевалило за полночь, брат отправил ему СМСку с вопросом о здоровье и благополучии. Коля списал свою задержку на то, что ему нужно подстраховать Марфу Степановну, и Данила отвязался.Отчеты, цифры, списки, формулы — Коля изучал все подряд, и через несколько часов понял, что в завтрашней речи шефа есть несколько неточностей. Он взял чистый лист бумаги и написал небольшое письмо:«Доброе утро! Случайно прочел вашу речь. Впечатлен! Однако есть ошибки: неправильно посчитана разница роста продаж для отдела корпоративных заказов (16,5% вместо 24%), стоит лишний ноль в абсолютных показателях по выручке от сувенирной продукции (1 млн. руб. вместо 10 млн. руб.), и, таким образом, сильно сбились общие выводы. Подправил вам цифры в завтрашней речи! Всего наилучшего, офисный фей!».Закончив уборку, Николай оставил листик на кресле шефа и отправился домой, широко улыбаясь. Было приятно сделать такую вот мелочь для того, кто совершенно случайно поднял ему самому настроение. * Утром позвонил Данила. Спрашивал, не оставлял ли Николай что-нибудь в кабинете шефа. Коля заверил брата, что ничего не оставлял, и продолжил домашнюю уборку. Его собственное расписание было смещено в сторону вечера, так что выходить из дома приходилось на несколько часов позже Дани.Коля подумал, что ему предстоит серьезный разговор с Савельичем, но завхоз просто поздоровался и ничего не сказал.— Николай, это вы! — обрадовался Леонид Андреевич, когда уборщик зашел в кабинет. — Скажите, вы вчера ничего не оставляли у меня в кабинете?— Что вы, Леонид Андреевич, вы мне вчера сами сказали, что я хорошо работаю, так что я все сделал как обычно и ушел, — соврал Николай, желая сохранить анонимность своей помощи. — Данила утром звонил, спрашивал, я так ему и сказал.— Вот как, — слегка разочарованно отозвался шеф. — Ну, извините, я подумал, это вы сделали. Охрана вот сказала, что вы очень поздно ушли.— Да, — Николай охотно кивнул. — Марфа Степановна же пролеты мыла раньше, так вот теперь мне приходится.— Вот как? — на сей раз фраза звучала удивленно. — Что-то она совсем плохая стала. Николай, позовите мне, как закончите здесь, Михаила Савельича, хорошо?— Нет! — вдруг возразил Коля, и даже не успел понять, как грубо это прозвучало. — Не надо увольнять ее, мне совсем не сложно. Вы же знаете, ей совсем чуть-чуть до пенсии осталось. Я поработаю сверхурочно, мне не сложно. Правда.К собственному ужасу Коля вдруг понял, что говорит искренне. Ему совсем не сложно было работать за двоих, прикрывая малознакомую старушку с придурью и алкоголизмом. Безответственную и неблагодарную. Жизнь Николая выписывала странные кренделя, и он тоже — вслед за жизнью — менялся.— Я не собирался увольнять Марфу Степановну, — улыбнулся в ответ на горячую тираду шеф. — Просто подумал, что лучше нанять еще одного уборщика, а не ждать, пока она уйдет. Десять тысяч в месяц нам тут погоды не сделают, а работать в грязном помещении, сами понимаете, не солидно.Такой странный поступок в картине мира Николая и вовсе не помещался. Шеф оставил Марфу Степановну на прежнем месте, но Савельичу сказал на работу ее больше не пускать. В качестве «санкций» решено было самого Савельича лишить на полгода премии, но старичок не возражал, слезно благодаря Леонида Андреевича за понимание.Вечером, сраженный наповал вниманием шефа к сотрудникам, Николай включил заветный компьютер. Никаких паролей для входа не стояло — судя по всему, обеспечивать секретность сведений призван был постоянно сбоящий кабель. Или сверхъестественные силы. Коля вставил флешку и скачал всю рабочую документацию за последние полгода. Таким людям. Таким, которые помогают другим, просто потому что могут. Им самим нужна бывает помощь.Теперь Коля чувствовал себя суперменом. Человек-аудитор. Специальный герой для офисов, готовый привести в порядок отчетность тихо и незаметно. Комментарии и замечания опускались на стол шефа с неизменной припиской «От офисного фея» каждый день. Днем и вечером Николай убирал офис, а по ночам и с утра корпел над любимыми цифрами. * Первый подарок «Для офисного фея» Коля нашел случайно. Он давно перестал смотреть на бумаги, разбросанные Леонидом Андреевичем, переключившись на исправление ошибок более серьезных. Тех, которые вытекали из данных с флешки. И вот на столе, поверх очередного завала, лежала коробка конфет. Удивившись, зачем бы шефу таким странным способом хранить сладкое, Николай навис над коробкой. На розовом стикере была надпись: «Для офисного фея».Коля посмеялся, но коробку взял. Утром по чуть-чуть он скармливал конфеты из нее Даниле. Брат уплетал их за обе щеки, и даже не спросил, каким образом их скромный семейный бюджет выплюнул из себя такой дорогой шоколад.Следующим подарком оказался конверт со скромной суммой. Пресловутые пять тысяч. Жизнь как будто смеялась над Николаем, подсовывая ему загубившие карьеру деньги назад. Денег «офисный фей» не взял.Коробки конфет повалили на него целыми пачками. В особо урожайные дни Коля уносил в пакете из-под мусора — чтоб не поняла охрана — по три-четыре штуки. Они стопкой укладывались под кроватью, выжидая своего часа для встречи с Данилой.Финалом его работы для Леонида Андреевича стал большой подробный отчет об отделе продаж, в котором искусственно завышали показатели за счет подмены статистических цифр. Николай в конце выдвигал предположение, что руководитель отдела, таким образом, пытался выбивать для себя и своих подчиненных незаслуженные премии. Что приводило в итоге к дисбалансу заработных плат по отделам. Настоящее расследование настоящего аудитора. Он был горд и доволен собой, выкладывая распечатанные на местном принтере листочки.На следующий день в кладовой, где Коля перед рабочим днем проверял запасы бытовой химии для уборки, Савельич посмотрел на него как-то странно. С покровительственной хитрой улыбкой. Но от вопросов отвертелся весьма правдоподобным предлогом. Дескать, вот-вот инвентаризация, а у него после Марфы Степановны ворох исчезнувших ведер и три сломанных швабры.— Николай! — радостно поприветствовал уборщика Леонид Андреевич. — Ну, присядьте, пожалуйста.Коля, растерянно глядя на шефа, опустился в кресло для посетителей, заботливо протираемое им самим каждый вечер.— Николай, получил ваш отчет — прекрасная работа! — улыбнулся Леонид Андреевич, а все попытки возразить пресек властным жестом. — Николай, я уже понял, что за славой вы не гонитесь, но я же серьезный человек, кроме того, руководитель, и когда мне на стол кладут отчеты о работе моих отделов, конечно же, я интересуюсь, кому в руки попала такого рода информация. Да и век современных технологий, сами понимаете, оставил мне целую серию чудесных видеозаписей о том, как вы собираете конфетные урожаи. Я просто хотел сказать вам, что вы отлично поработали. И по этому поводу я настаиваю на том, чтобы вы получили премию. — Шеф протянул уборщику конверт и квиточек. — Распишитесь, все очень официально.Все, что смог выдавить из себя Николай, уместилось в легкий кивок и радостное междометие.— Поговорил с вашим братом на днях, — вздохнул вдруг шеф, откинувшись на спинку кресла. — Некрасиво у вас со стажировкой вышло. Хочу вам предложить место младшего специалиста у нас, на полставки! — Леонид Андреевич воздел палец к потолку, уточняя, что вовсе не собирается сыпать подачки. — Работу вы провели грамотную, но давать высокую должность специалисту с опытом работы уборщика я не могу. Меня самого начальство съест. Так что будете пока младшим специалистом. Идите, я попросил Савельича забрать у вас форму уборщика и показать ваш отсек в общем зале. * Начался новый этап карьеры. По утрам Николай разглаживал рубашки еще тщательнее, но теперь, вместо того чтобы одаривать презрительным взглядом брата, пролившего кофе, сам наливал ему кружку и аккуратно ставил в центр кухонного стола. Данила смеялся, что два месяца в роли уборщика, наконец-то, сделали из его братишки человека.— Николай, скажите, а какие конфеты вам понравились больше? — спросил однажды Леонид Андреевич, разбирая очередной отчет младшего специалиста, который, несмотря на полставки, сутками сидел в офисе. Если бы не брат, он оставался бы ночевать прямо на работе, но Данила раз за разом приходил ночью и буквально силой вытаскивал трудоголика из-за стола. Вопрос поставил Колю в тупик.— Ну, для офисного фея я оставлял разные конфеты, — напомнил шеф, — и мне интересно, какие вам понравились больше. Так, шутки ради, решил разрядить обстановку, а то у вас здесь все очень серьезно. — Он постучал по папке костяшками пальцев.— А, вот оно что. Извините, я конфет не ем, — смутился Николай. За то, что он скормил подарки брату, внезапно стало стыдно.— Не едите конфет? — удивился Леонид Андреевич. — Ну, а чем тогда увлекаетесь? Алкоголь, кофе, чай?— Да, честно говоря, я не знаю, — пожал плечами Коля. На хобби у него не оставалось времени. Кроме того, все эти вещи почти не имели отношения к обожаемому миру цифр, так что тратить на них драгоценные секунды совсем не хотелось.— Не знаете? — шеф удивился еще сильнее. — Просто Новый год скоро, мы вот подарки подбираем, я думал вас опять конфетами угостить, а теперь как быть-то не знаю.— Ну, если у вас можно пройти курсы, — воодушевился Николай. — Я вот хотел всегда французский выучить и немецкий. Времени мало, да и денег тоже не то чтобы… ну, вы понимаете. Я бы мог вам отчеты переводить сразу для…— Так, давайте не про работу, Николай. Будете пить дорогой кофе, — отрезал шеф, выпроваживая слишком старательного сотрудника из кабинета. * На Новый год Николай получил массивный пакет дорогого кофе. Домой он шел довольный, потому что кофе всегда нравился брату, и раз теперь его так много, и он такой качественный, Данила будет в восторге.Дома, впрочем, брат встретил его с распростертыми объятьями, даже не взглянув на пакет.— Дорогой братишка! — начал Даня, стиснув Николая в охапку. — Какой ты у меня все-таки молодец! Прям золотко!Коля понял, что равнодушный обычно до спиртного брат изрядно напился, и пошел на кухню изучать источник такого поведения.— Во-о-от, сам посмотри, — продемонстрировал бутылку Данила, ничуть не таясь. — Виски! Виталик сказал, стоит тыщ десять!Виталик — еще один охранник — в похожем состоянии сидел за столом, активно кивая.— Ты на работе еще был, пришел к нам тут этот… курьер. И передал, мол, тебе. Ну, мы тебе оставили, честное слово, треть! — Даня усадил брата на свободный табурет и налил в кофейную чашку дорогущий виски. — За твою работу!— Наверное, — решил вдруг высказаться Виталик, — он на тебя за-пал!— Чего? — Коля с братом вытаращились на Виталика.— Чего-чего, известно же, что он гей, — фыркнул гость.— Так, ты бы это… помолчал бы, а! — возмутился Даня.— Да он и не скрывает, что гей, — пожал плечами Виталик. — Мы с мужиками, когда узнали, думали, может, уволиться, а сейчас-то какая разница. Ну, гей, ну, дальше-то что? Зарплату вовремя платят, премии все как по часам, вот и форму нам, наконец-то, нормальную выдали в прошлом году. Тем более что секретарши у него, все три, очень довольные ходят. — Словоохотливость Виталика не знала границ. — В смысле, что не пристает он к ним, от работы не отвлекает. Если справка там нужна или еще чего — так в любое время. Мне, вон, с женой ипотеку оформить помогли. Где еще так? И потом, ну, вот ты сам подумай, — обращался он в основном к Даниле, поскольку Николая в неформальной обстановке видел в первый раз. — Вот подумай, ну, какая нахрен мне разница, гей он или нет? Я женат, у меня ребенку два года. Что он гей, что он не гей, мне-то это зачем?Данила почесал затылок.— Ну, ты и надрался, Виталь. Домой я тебя не потащу, пусть меня Нинка хоть целиком сожрет. Будешь тут спать.Слушая пьяный разговор двух товарищей из соседней комнаты, Николай засыпал со смешанным чувством брезгливости и любопытства. С одной стороны, ему не понравилось, что в подарках и внимании, которое ему оказал Леонид Андреевич, могло скрываться двойное дно. С другой, ему было любопытно, насколько прав Виталик. Шеф — гей, подумать только! * Задавать вопросы коллегам или следить за шефом казалось Николаю полнейшей глупостью, так что он выбрал стратегию выжидания. Когда подоспел традиционный мужской праздник, Коля зашел в кабинет с очередным отчетом и стал ожидать вопроса про подарки.— Спасибо, Николай, очень грамотный текст. Почитаю на выходных, если вы не против. Как вам, понравился виски?— Да, понравился, спасибо большое, Леонид Андреевич.— Принесу вам в понедельник еще бутылочку, мне знакомый привозит из Штатов, — поделился шеф.— Ну, что вы, не стоит, я узнал, сколько стоит этот виски, — закинул удочку Коля.— Не поймите меня неправильно, Николай, но давать вам солидные премии я не могу — у нас слаженный коллектив, мы друг друга хорошо знаем, и если я начну выделять вас среди других, у вас лишних поклонников не появится. Но мне важно, чтобы вы понимали, что я ценю вашу работу, и надеюсь искренне, что через несколько лет у вас будет хорошая высокооплачиваемая должность.Как-то туманно ответил Леонид Андреевич, странно. Трактовать его слова можно было по-разному. Вроде бы есть намек на то, что при соответствующих усилиях Николай может получить вкусное место, а вроде бы выяснилось, почему же алкоголь вместо денег — чтобы соблюдать должностную иерархию.— Спасибо, Леонид Андреевич, — нейтрально отозвался Коля. Шеф в ответ улыбнулся. Тепло, но с чертиками в глазах.— По-моему, Николай, вы темните. Что вы там себе надумали, рассказывайте. Садитесь, времени у нас до банкета еще много.Коля сел на стул и крепко задумался о том, как можно сообщить собственному начальнику о том, что про него ходят весьма пикантные слухи.— Ладно, я вам задачу упрощу, — рассмеялся шеф. — Вам рассказали, что я гей, и вы решили, что я вас этим виски подкупаю. Так?Николай ничего не ответил, но даже без ответной реплики по его виду все было ясно.— Хорошо, тогда начистоту. Да, я действительно гей. Никогда не скрывал этого, и дирекция наша в курсе, так что шантажировать меня этой простенькой информацией некому и незачем. Вы мне нравитесь. В первую очередь, как очень перспективный сотрудник. Склонять вас к чему-то я не собираюсь уже хотя бы потому, что за это кадровая служба центрального офиса уволит меня в считанные часы, да еще таких штрафов выпишет, что эта выходка сделает меня банкротом. Можете расслабиться и быть уверенным в том, что моя симпатия вам ничем не грозит. Единственное, о чем я вас прошу — лишний раз не распространяйтесь на эту тему. Ни вам, ни мне от этого лучше не будет. Ну, что, по рукам? — Леонид Андреевич действительно протянул руку. — Больше никакого виски и никаких опасений.Николай пожал руку и вышел из кабинета, ощущая, как с него стекает воображаемая грязь. Никто ведь не тянул за язык, никто не ставил ему условий, да и по поступкам Леонида Андреевича, который прикрыл пресловутую алкоголичку, ясно было, что он в большинстве случаев на стороне коллектива, а личные интересы всегда согласует с потребностями фирмы.Банкет прошел очень уныло, Коля выпил пару бокалов шампанского, прожевал абсолютно безвкусную закуску и направился к себе домой.Мимо проезжала машина, старенькая иномарка, и вдруг остановилась в десятке шагов впереди него. Передняя дверь открылась. Николай быстрым шагом преодолел расстояние и наклонился.— Вас подбросить до дома? — Леонид Андреевич выглядел очень спокойным. Он, казалось, даже забыл о разговоре. — Садитесь, на улице холодно, и я высажу вас, где скажете. Данила говорил мне, что вы пока не собрались покупать машину.Хотелось извиниться. Не словами — на это Коля не решился бы никогда в жизни. Поступком. И он сел в машину, ощутив, как замерзшие пальцы отогреваются в просторном салоне.— Я пару раз вашего брата подвозил, — пояснил Леонид Андреевич. — Очень хороший человек. Как его прежний работодатель обманул, до сих пор поверить не могу. Как можно так с сиротой-опекуном?Коля прежнего работодателя брата ненавидел почище автомобиля, что унес жизни родителей. Мерзавец издевался над спортсменом, обзывая дурачком, и постоянно задерживал выплату денег. Несколько раз из-за этого у них отключали отопление в середине зимы, а занимать на хлеб приходилось у соседки.— Ну, скотов в жизни много, — закончил вдруг философски шеф и замолчал. Молчание он нарушил только возле подъезда Николая. — Вы меня простите за тот разговор, ладно? В последние годы частенько бывали всякие… моменты. Раздражительным стал. Хорошего праздника!Поднимаясь на лифте в квартиру, Коля думал о том, что сегодня узнал о жизни что-то очень важное. Его посетило странное чувство торжественности момента, будто он стал свидетелем какой-то, почти евангельской, истины. Но высказать словами и даже толком представить в голове, о чем идет речь, он не смог. * Праздник трудящихся отмечать решили на природе. Шеф нашел в коллективе добровольца-весельчака, и тот принялся искать подходящее место. Нашли недорогую базу, купили много мяса и водки, и отправились отдыхать всем коллективом, прихватив охрану и тех самых уборщиков, из среды которых попал на свое теплое место Николай.Леонид Андреевич отказывался ехать очень долго, и убедить его смогли только тем, что в автобус поместиться всем ну никак не получится, и содействие шефа в перевозке подчиненных просто необходимо. Отвертеться от такого аргумента сознательному начальнику не удалось.В знакомую машину Колю усадил Савельич. Он попросился к Леониду Андреевичу сам и решил помочь бывшему подопечному. Вслед за завхозом на заднее сидение прыгнули секретарша Верочка и главный бухгалтер Софья Андреевна.Очень скоро стало ясно, что вдовствующая Софья подбивает клинья к товарищу завхозу, а миловидная Верочка игнорирует все сплетни об ориентации шефа. Дамы щебетали всю дорогу, так вымотав Николая, что к концу пятичасовой поездки он хотел только одного — спать. Желательно несколько суток.— Вот вы, Лёня, зря молчите, — продолжала Верочка, уже когда они остановились на парковке базы. — Мне кажется, что мужчины, рожденные под знаком Овна, просто обязаны быть к женщинам внимательнее. Я уже столько раз говорила своему Славику, что…— Вера Ивановна, — прервал ее шеф, — мы приехали. Давайте разбирать вещи. * Первый вечер отдыха, как всегда, был унылым и суматошным. Женщины разбирали продукты, мужчины пытались умыкнуть бутылки с алкоголем. После утомительной поездки Коля решил спрятаться в комнате, которую им с Данилой выделили на двоих, но туда пришел вездесущий Виталик, и очень скоро они с братом стали невыносимы.Николай спустился в небольшой сквер и уселся на одну из пустующих лавочек, рассчитывая переждать до тех пор, пока коллеги не решат угомониться. Коря себя за то, что согласился на авантюру, он складывал линейки тетриса на смартфоне. Хоть какое-то развлечение.— Можно присесть?Леонида Андреевича он не заметил, но, в любом случае, отказать в такой простой просьбе у Коли причин не было. Шеф сел рядом и достал из кармана сигареты.— Не знал, что вы курите, — удивился Николай.— Я курю, только когда отдыхаю, — пояснил Леонид Андреевич. — Чтоб не мешало работе.Несколько минут они сидели молча.— А как вы начинали карьеру? — спросил вдруг Коля, сам удивившись своей наглости. Раньше вести беседы с начальством казалось ему непозволительной роскошью, а теперь вон как — запросто.— Ну, уборщиком, конечно, не пришлось, тут вы, Николай, уникальный случай… — начал Леонид Андреевич, а Коля вдруг перебил его, сообщив, что тот может обращаться к нему на ты. — Хорошо. Ну, так вот я начал со стажировки на пятом курсе, а потом меня взяли на полную ставку. Дальше больше, и через семь лет уже директор филиала.Николай не стал говорить, что именно такой план составил в своей голове, когда все рухнуло в одночасье.— А домашнее животное у вас есть?Вот ведь, глупость какую сморозил! И с чего бы ему так много спрашивать у человека, в общем-то, ему незнакомого? Подумаешь, отправились вместе на корпоратив, ну, так ведь полно народу, разговаривай, с кем хочешь.— Нет, какие животные, когда я с работы в час ночи возвращаюсь, — усмехнулся Леонид Андреевич. — Тут ни один кот не выдержит.— У нас с Данилой раньше хомяк был, еще до смерти родителей. Васькой звали. — Отозвался Николай. — Леонид Андреевич…— Давай, раз уж предложил, тоже на ты. Верочка вот меня с первой рабочей недели Лёней зовет. Можешь звать Леонидом.— Хорошо. Леонид, а почему ты… — «ты» по отношению к боссу давалось Коле с большим трудом. Только теперь он понял, насколько Леонид Андреевич внушителен для своего скромного возраста. В сидящей рядом с Колей фигуре в спортивном костюме было больше официоза, чем в депутате, дающем интервью накануне выборов. — Почему ты решил пойти в эту профессию?— Так платят же хорошо, — рассмеялся шеф. — Если серьезно, мать заставила. Сказала, либо занимайся дерьмом, либо деньгами.— Почему … дерьмом? — не понял Коля.— И то и другое никогда не закончится, — с улыбкой отозвался Леонид. Коля посмотрел на него и облегченно рассмеялся. Как одно сказанное вслух резкое слово может сократить дистанцию покруче всяких «ты»?Они просидели на лавке до тех пор, пока Верочка не прибежала звать их к столу для ужина. Обсуждали работу, быт, политику. * Наутро Леонид постучал в дверь к братьям и без лишних объяснений сообщил, что «забирает Николая для важного партийного задания». Данила отпустил младшего братишку без вопросов, целиком полагаясь на благоразумие шефа.Они сели в машину, и сонный Коля не сразу сообразил, что они едут обратно, в столицу.— Что за партийное задание?— Первое мая, у всех праздник, они там с утра напьются и будут обсуждать мужей, жен и детей. Тебе оно надо?Коля подумал, что ему это, в самом деле, не надо, но на его вопрос Леонид все-таки ухитрился не отвечать.Машина остановилась возле небольшого ресторана на окраине.— Пойдем, будем есть и разговаривать. Пойдем-пойдем, я плачу, потому что нет никакого задания партии, мне просто не отвязаться от секретарш и Софьи Андреевны. Они убеждены, что мое место с коллективом, хотя коллектив интересует только сверху я или снизу.Ресторан оказался недорогим заведением. Коля подумал, что в таком оплатить счет давно способен и самостоятельно.— Расскажи, какие у тебя планы на будущее, — предложил шеф, уплетая овсянку за обе щеки. Такого энтузиазма у Николая не вызывали даже креветки с красной икрой. — Куда хочешь устроиться?— Да меня тут все устраивает, — оторопел Коля.— Расслабься, пожалуйста, у нас тут праздник, мы просто отдыхаем. Я знаю, что еще года два-три ты будешь работать в моем филиале, но потом-то тебе все равно придется уйти, не куковать же с примитивной отчетностью десятилетиями.На самом деле, Николай всерьез планировал прокуковать над этой отчетностью до пенсии. Неудача с первой работой так выбила его из колеи, что он до сих пор мечтал только о крепком фундаменте, без дополнительных излишеств.— Ладно, спрошу напрямик, — вздохнул Леонид. — За границу планируешь?Коля оторопело помотал головой. Какая заграница, он здесь-то едва устроился. Так сказать, через мусорное ведро.— Зря, с твоими способностями в самый раз. Я бы и сам уехал, но у меня родные, нельзя.Мысль о том, что у Леонида Андреевича «родные» настолько очеловечивала его, что Николай уставился на шефа полными удивления глазами. Тот рассмеялся.— Что, не ожидал, что у меня пожилая мать и отец в больнице? Я вот тоже не ожидал, а вон как все обернулось. Ну, если повезет, не так все плохо, папа на поправку пошел, сестра обещала помогать.За день Коля узнал о своем шефе больше, чем известно было всему коллективу их немаленькой фирмы. Больше всего запало в душу то, что Леонид жил совершенно один, а на выходных ночевал в больнице. Никак все это не вязалось с успешным человеком в кресле босса с красивым галстуком и идеальной прической. Такие ходят по клубам, снимают девочек (ну, или мальчиков), а не сидят с престарелой родней.— Ну что, пора ехать обратно. Купим им ящик водки, и, считай, выполнили задание партии. — Предложил шеф.— Постой, — Коля вдруг вспомнил свое отвязное детство и широко улыбнулся. — Давай заедем в одно место. Если не сложно, конечно.Они доехали до злосчастного кафетерия, где почти год назад Николай оплакивал свое несостоявшееся будущее.— Выпьешь? — он протянул рюмку, заботливо наполненную барменом до верха, шефу.— Я за рулем, ты что, — удивился Леонид.— Я живу недалеко, — пожал плечами Коля. — Им там давно все равно, мне даже брат не позвонил, а он за мной всю жизнь присматривает. Давай-давай, у меня был год печального опыта, и теперь нужно замкнуть круг.Они выпили по рюмке дешевой водки, схватили бутерброды и вышли на свежий воздух. Отвратительный запах, казалось, пропитал помещение еще с памятного выпускного.На улице было красиво, уютно и все еще тепло. Майский вечер выдался на редкость уютным, без пронизывающего ветра. Николай смотрел на закат, представляя, как вместе с солнцем опускается за горизонт проблема его карьерного роста. Кажется, все постепенно наладилось.— Так ты приглашаешь меня к себе домой? — зачем-то уточнил Леонид. Коля внимательно посмотрел на шефа и, в конце концов, понял, в чем подвох у вопроса. Именно сообразительность обеспечила ему бюджетное место вуза и стажировку в крупной компании.— Ну, не в том смысле, — замялся парень. Просто ему понравилось разговаривать с шефом, и он понимал, что все это — временно, до тех пор, пока не закончится их странный корпоратив.— Какой тут может быть еще смысл, — усмехнулся мужчина.— Просто поговорить что, нельзя? — разозлился Николай. «Какой тут может быть еще смысл»? Да любой. Два друга решили провести вместе вечер. Данила с Виталиком вон без конца лясы точат, и ничего!— Ты прекрасно знаешь о моей симпатии, — отозвался шеф. — Ты мне нравишься. Вот представь, что ты нравишься девушке. И вдруг ты зовешь ее к себе домой, только с пометкой, что это просто так. Может такси лучше вызвать?Такси вызывать Николай совершенно не хотел.— Нет, раз уже пошли, так придем ко мне, — отрезал он, набравшись откуда-то мужества. — Не знаю, что там тебе во мне нравится, но выглядишь ты нормальным мужиком, так что поспим по разным комнатам, а завтра наутро вернемся. * Поспать Коле расхотелось сразу после того, как они выключили свет. Он все прокручивал в голове их диалоги с шефом, и никак не мог заставить себя переключить сознание на что-нибудь нейтральное. В конце концов, измучившись бессонницей, он отправился на кухню, чтобы сварить себе кофе. В таком состоянии кофе иногда помогал ему быстрее заснуть.Леонид Андреевич невозмутимо стоял на балконе, вероломно предаваясь вредной привычке в одних трусах. Свет от ближайшего фонаря прекрасно демонстрировал очертания фигуры начальника, и Коля со скрипом признал, что при таких габаритах вполне можно сниматься для журналов. Какой-нибудь «Обнаженный руководитель» или «HR в неглиже» запросто сделали бы его знаменитостью.— Тоже не спится? — усмехнулся шеф, затушив сигарету.— Думал сварить кофе, — пояснил Николай. Он вдруг понял, что сам стоит на кухне в допотопных семейниках, купленных Данилой на какой-то мегараспродаже. Мало того, что дурацкий ширпотреб, так еще ведь ничего, кроме него, на Коле нету. Дурацкая ситуация. Вот поэтому геев-то и не любят, поди пойми, что там у них на уме.Впрочем, Леонид Андреевич повел себя очень деликатно. Уселся за стол, так что остался виден только верх торса, и уткнулся в старенькую газету.— Вы кофе будете?— Коля, мы «на ты» уже вторые сутки, — вздохнул шеф, перелистывая газету.— Извини.Без дальнейших вопросов он сварил кофе на двоих и сел рядом, поставив перед шефом полную чашку.— Спасибо, — коротко поблагодарил гость. Судя по всему, вести задушевные беседы в два часа ночи он не планировал. Или понимал, как странно Николаю сидеть в одних семейниках с геем на кухне в собственной квартире.— Ты извини. Я, правда, имел в виду просто… ну, посидеть, поговорить. Ничего такого.— Да ладно, я понял, — отозвался Леонид и снова замолчал. Эта немногословность пугала и раздражала Николая одновременно.— Просто я раньше с геями не встречался, так что я не совсем знаю, как себя вести.— Да как ведешь, так и веди, нормально все, — сухо отрезал Леонид. Происходящее теперь бесило Колю гораздо сильнее. Он словно оправдывался перед шефом за что-то, чего не совершал.— Просто чтоб я понял, вот ты сказал, что я тебе нравлюсь — ты имел в виду, в смысле, как девушка? — разрывая недосказанность, выпалил парень.Леонид Андреевич отложил газету и, пригубив кофе, серьезно посмотрел на собеседника. Коля слышал, как тикает стрелка на его наручных часах, настолько звонкой была тишина сейчас.— Я имел в виду, что хочу тебя трахнуть. Повалить на рабочий стол, стянуть с тебя брюки, лечь сверху и отыметь так, чтобы ты орал на весь офис, и Верочка никогда больше не сомневалась в моей ориентации. Вот это я имел в виду, — шеф невозмутимо сделал еще один глоток кофе, отставил чашку и взял в руки газету, открыв ее на предыдущей странице.Онемев от стыда и смущения, Коля вцепился обеими руками в свою кружку кофе и выбежал на балкон. Ноги тряслись, пальцы дрожали, и когда он попытался поднести кружку к губам, та выпала из рук и со звоном разбилась о кафель балкона.— На счастье, — прокомментировал сидящий на кухне шеф. Казалось, ему вообще все равно, что происходит с Колей.Горячая вода больно обожгла ноги, а наступать на осколки было опасно, так что с балкона пришлось выйти, а куда деть себя после такой реплики, Николай совершенно не представлял.— Да что ты маешься, это же твоя квартира. Хочешь, уйду — не маленький, вызову такси, доеду до машины, а дальше своим ходом. Делов-то, — мужчина пожал плечами и снова перевернул страницу. Коле стало интересно, действительно он читает или просто притворяется?— Я еще кофе сделаю, — отозвался Коля и начал отчищать турку трясущимися пальцами.— Чего ты боишься? Я что, похож на уголовника? Ты задал вопрос, я ответил на него.Коля не представлял себе, чего боялся. Руки тряслись все сильнее, и теперь уже он не мог удержать даже ручку джезвы. Происходящее казалось странным сном, сюрреалистичным и бредовым.— Эй, ты нормально себя чувствуешь? — наконец-то, в голосе шефа послышались «живые» нотки. — С тобой все в порядке?Коля отбросил в сторону турку и выбежал в коридор, поспешно захлопнув дверь собственной комнаты. Здесь, в темноте и тишине, стало чуть легче. Только часы тикали, как тогда, быстро-быстро, и также быстро билось сердце.— Слушай, обижать тебя я не хотел, — донесся из коридора голос шефа. Расстроенный и взволнованный. — Просто ты слегка достал меня с этими своими гейскими заморочками. В конце концов, что это за реплика вообще? «Как девушка»? Я что тебе цветы дарить буду и возить в кино на последний ряд? Ну, если хочешь, могу и букет принести, только на кой хрен тебе веник?Коля поднялся на ноги, приоткрыл дверь и посмотрел на стоящего по другую сторону порога шефа. Теперь очертания его фигуры подчеркивал свет из кухни. Черт возьми, наверное, эту фигуру может подчеркнуть даже фонарик.— Просто мне страшно, — тихо-тихо прошептал Коля.— Страшно? — не понял шеф. Он долго и пристально смотрел на Николая, вытаскивая из глубины зрачков какое-то сакральное знание. Проклятые часы тикали все так же быстро.Но шеф оказался быстрее. Между двумя «тиками» он рывком подобрался к Николаю и прижал к себе, впиваясь губами в шею, а потом одним движением повалил на кровать.— Ничего страшного тут нет, — сообщил он, снимая трусы сначала с испуганного Николая, а затем с себя самого.Очень быстро Коля понял, что страшного и впрямь нет ничего, зато есть кое-что приятное, и кое-что еще — куда более приятное, но, что самое важное, эти вещи можно делать одновременно. Далеко-далеко от сознания проскальзывала мысль о том, что Данила вышвырнет его из квартиры за такое, но думать всерьез он уже не мог.— Видишь, совершенно не страшно, — довольно улыбаясь, прошептал на ухо Леонид. — Немного громко, конечно, но соседи, наверняка, разбежались по дачам. Так что не волнуйся.Коле, в любом случае, было не до соседей. Он весь превратился в одно ощущение и мечтал только о том, чтобы оно растянулось еще на несколько секунд, а потом… *** — Просыпайся, через пять минут здесь будет твой брат, — кружка с кофе возникла перед носом Николая, и тот едва успел сделать пару глотков, когда кружка исчезла. — Сходи в душ, быстро, иначе тебе придется прямо сейчас объяснять, какого лешего ты со мной трахался.Ошалевший от потока информации, Коля побежал в душ, где успел разглядеть следы минувшей ночи за секунду до того, как их смыло водой.Даня, как назло, прихватил с собой вездесущего Виталика. После нескольких часов в постели с другим мужчиной Коля вдруг начал сомневаться, а есть ли у Виталика жена и ребенок. Кто его знает, может это их с Даней легенда? К счастью, или к несчастью, вслед за братом и его другом в квартиру ввалились Нина и двухлетняя Машенька.Леонид, в отличие от Коли, был одет, гладко выбрит, причесан и буквально сиял от переполнявшей его энергии.— Леонид Андреевич, здравствуйте, что ж вы к нам не вернулись?— Данил, ты ж знаешь Верочку, — шеф виртуозно врал на ходу, пока Коля пытался привести себя в подобие надлежащего вида.— Да, понимаю, — покивал Данила. — Как вы ее не уволили после того случая с бельем…— Ну, каждый ведь по-своему в жизни пробивается, — философски пожал плечами шеф. — Вы отмечать собрались?— Ну да, — кивнул Даня.— Так я ухожу скоро, мы тут рядом в кафетерии с Николаем выпили, я забыл совсем про машину… ну, и вот, — шеф начал натягивать ботинки, а Коля застыл на пороге комнаты с взлохмоченной мокрой шевелюрой. Он вопросительно посмотрел на Леонида, пока остальные отвернулись, увлеченные своими делами. Тот отрицательно покачал головой и, достав из кармана мобильник, махнул им.Через несколько минут после ухода Леонида Андреевича, Коля дождался заветной СМСки.«Повторить можно сегодня. У меня. К шести заеду?»Отвечать хотелось долго и с наслаждением, как это было ночью, но Коля ограничился одним «да», после чего вылетел из комнаты, чтобы нормально встретить гостей. В коридоре он столкнулся с братом.— Рубашку надень, — сквозь зубы процедил Данил. — У тебя засос на полшеи.Коля уставился на брата полными ужаса глазами.— Да не заметили они, не парься, но рубашку надень, иначе весь день будешь слушать от Нины, как она любит геев.Завязывая галстук, чтобы воротник плотнее прилегал к шее, он подумал о том, что брат воспринял это как-то слишком буднично. Неужели знал? То, о чем не подозревал даже сам Николай?Пока за столом обсуждали национальные праздники, Коля представлял себе, как вечером тугой узел галстука развяжет шеф, но из-за того, что квартиру Леонида представить было невозможно, на ум снова и снова приходил пресловутый рабочий кабинет со столом.Пришла еще одна СМСка.«Белые или красные?»Не выдержав, Коля расхохотался прямо за столом, поймав неодобрительный взгляд брата. Но ему было все равно. Ожидая вечерней встречи, он ощущал себя, всего лишь спустя год после фактического праздника, королем выпускного бала. Сейчас приедет его парень — ужас какой! — и они отправятся куда-то там на старой иномарке. Набирая ответ, он думал о том, что, в конце концов, можно ведь помочь шефу избавиться от надоедливой Верочки. Как он там сказал? Орать на весь офис?

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