#trying to lighten the mood and shift the conversation from a heavy subject

[sunny-porridge]

Day 4 of proving Legend is a big softie

and he cares so, so much

[lauren-likes-to-type]

Pure Admiration

[Shadow of the Tomb Raider] Lara Croft x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.03k

Proofread: No

Content Warnings: A really corny ending (bear with me), very brief mentions of death, soft anxiety

Categories:

Angst Fluff Mix

One-Shot Preference Headcanon

[A/N]: This was more of a drabble than an actual individual chapter. Not proofread, but the ending is still extremely cheesy, so feel free to ignore it if you'd like.

[A/N] #2: Most likely going to rewrite this sometime in the future, but I currently have six more characters I plan on writing for first.

Enjoy!

Throughout the time she spent during and after the trip to Yamatai, Lara was often seen with a deadpan expression and heard with a cold or uninterested tone by anyone who happened to stumble across her path. Trinity soldiers, paparazzi, Jonah, Sam, and everyone alike had grown accustomed to glancing over at any given moment, and even when she was talking about something she was passionate about, there was always a sense of stress or frustration laced within each crease that lined her face.

Even before her first independent expedition, it wasn’t uncommon to see her scowling down in confusion as she reread over pages and pages of books she had carried to study with, murmuring that she had to be missing something. It had taken a toll on her appearance too–due to the countless nights she spent staying up to continue her research, her eyes had grown dull and heavy with fatigue. It only added to the look of exasperation that seemed to constantly adorn her features.

 To most, it was almost seen as a trademark feature of hers–a part of her that would never fully disappear. It was why it was such a surprise to the people closest to her when [Y/N] came into the picture. For once, it seemed as though Lara was finally at ease with someone other than herself. When Jonah or Sam would glance over at the two, it was hard not to mirror Lara’s contagious smile as she chatted away happily with [Y/N] about whatever came to mind.

Not once did Lara hold an ounce of resentment or irritation in her tone or eyes when she would gaze over at the younger woman. Instead, there was a sense of admiration, one in which seemed to bring out the best of her. In cases where she’d usually grow stubborn and aggressive toward whoever she was bickering with, [Y/N] was somehow able to extinguish even the smallest feelings of fury that might’ve sparked to life beneath her skin, always steering the conversation to something everyone could seemingly agree with before things escalated too far.

And over time, the effects [Y/N] had on Lara began to shift into her everyday way of looking at things. Where she’d once swipe everything off her desk and clutch handfuls of her hair in utter frustration, her head pounding from lack of sleep and confusion as to why she couldn’t figure something out, she’d instead take a moment to herself and focus on something else before moving back when she was ready. She found it helped her get things done much quicker, as well as prevent the high levels of stress she had grown used to, though she wasn’t entirely aware it was [Y/N] who had ultimately caused it.

Even when Lara wasn’t with her, doing so much as talking about [Y/N] was enough to lighten her mood. It was evident to anyone who even managed to glance over at the right time. Something had lifted her spirits with the mere mention of it, that much was obvious, though they never knew what. Although Lara didn’t visit Sam often, Jonah made sure to fill her in about every time the brunette would start rambling on and on about the other woman, much to Sam’s amusement. When Lara would visit here and there, she’d be gently teased about her “little crush,” in which she’d deny her feelings and try her best to change the subject.

Sam eased up on her taunting remarks after a while, but eventually asked Lara when she planned on asking [Y/N] out, her previously chipper tone suddenly serious. Again, Lara denied how she felt and shifted the topic before she made an excuse to leave. As she went to bed that night, however, she found herself pondering whether or not she had actually fallen for someone.

She didn’t get any sleep, too busy tossing and turning as she desperately tried to get the image of [Y/N] out of her mind. Each time she’d think about her kind smile, her comforting hugs, her cheerful and comforting demeanor, Lara would hide her face behind her hands or bury it in her pillow, groaning at the feeling of a burning warmth enveloping her skin.

After another night or so of this, she somehow found that she was able to fall asleep, although she had to hold one of her pillows to her chest. Unwillingly, she pictured it was [Y/N]’s sleeping form against her own. Her face burned with embarrassment the next morning when she discovered she had clutched onto the plush surface rather tightly throughout the night, and she hesitantly found herself shoving the pillow back up against the headboard. She scolded herself before forcing her weakened body out of bed to start her day.

There was no way she could possibly be in love with someone she had known for such a short amount of time.

Was there?

It took months for her to finally come to terms with her emotions enough to finally ask for advice, and since she was away on a trip without any way to talk to Sam, she confided in Jonah. As they pushed their way through the ground of the forest, hacking down loose branches and bushes that blocked the path with a makeshift machete, she not-so-casually admitted she might actually feel something for [Y/N]. She had expected him to be surprised in one way or another, but he quickly let her know she wasn’t great at hiding it.

Sheepish, she tried to brush it off and ignore the fact she ever brought it up, but Jonah insisted that he didn’t mind. He told her how relieving it was to see her so happy with someone–that she deserved to find someone special and spend time with them rather than constantly hiding away in her study to bury herself in research.

Even with a grumble rebutting the remark of essentially stowing herself away, Lara couldn’t deny that it felt nice caring so deeply for someone. She had cared for others before, sure: Jonah and Sam were like family to her at this point. But this felt different. It felt intimate and passionate in all the right ways.

Trudging their way up a hill to set up a base camp for the night, she and Jonah cautiously talked about ways to get Lara to confess, both too worried of crossing a boundary and upsetting the brunette. Jonah knew it was a touchy subject when it came to romance and settling down to start a family with her, but Lara was terrified of messing things up more than anything. She had finally found someone she loved like no other, and given that she had no prior relationship experience, the question of whether or not she would ruin things hung heavy in the back of her mind with every thought that flashed through.

Nothing else was mentioned about Lara’s feelings for the remainder of the journey, but once the two of them were seated in the plane headed back home, the testy topic was picked up again. Jonah had to keep reminding Lara that there was no reason to get defensive, that it was okay to be open about how she felt. It took nearly an hour, but she finally got it.

She had never had any kind of crush before–never understood why girls back in junior high and high school would gossip about the people they had their eyes on–she had no idea how to express how she felt. Although it was difficult, she knew she could trust Jonah, and she finally managed to talk about exactly how she felt.

Another few months had passed, and it had almost been a year by the time Lara was ready to confess how she felt to [Y/N]. Every time she thought of how long it had taken to muster up the courage, she felt ridiculous. It had taken her nearly a full year to realize how she felt and actually act on it. Normally, when she felt something strong bubbling up within her, she acted on it right away. Granted, those feelings were usually ones of annoyance at someone going against her wishes or determination to find an ancient ruin she had been studying for weeks.

Regardless, she scolded herself for being so cowardly, reminding herself that she’d need confidence if she were to ever get rid of the feeling of anxiety that stemmed from how she felt about the other woman–who seemed to increasingly plague more and more of her thoughts with every passing day.

At first, she thought she could go all out for her confession, wanting it to be special. She decided against that quickly, however, upon remembering something as simple as a location or a certain activity could be special on its own. She also cringed at the idea of a large event for something that could go wrong, though she hated the idea of a huge confession either way.

Yes, she wanted things to be special and go smoothly, but that didn’t mean other people had to be there to witness it. Whether or not it went well was nobody else’s business. Plus, the mere thought of being around other people made her anxious. The idea was discarded faster than it had even crossed her mind.

Finally, after getting different ideas from Sam and Jonah, Lara setup something small, invited [Y/N] to join her, and eventually managed to confess how she felt, unable to look the other woman in the eye as she awaited her response. Pure relief washed over her senses once [Y/N] voiced that her feelings were mutual. A short while later, Lara asked [Y/N] to be her girlfriend, to which she said yes as well.

Jonah was the first to congratulate Lara, given that he was essentially the wingman in the situation, and Sam was quick to tease her about what she planned to wear at the wedding. Lara brushed her off with a playful laugh each time, though she wouldn’t deny that she had already begun planning out the wedding anyway.

Somehow, each time anyone saw the two of them together, Lara always seemed to be in a cheerful mood, uncharacteristically lively and energetic. She was friendlier towards others, so long as she knew they weren’t making [Y/N] uncomfortable.

And just like before, when they hadn’t been dating, anyone with a set of working eyes was able to see the absolute admiration swelling up in Lara’s eyes whenever they’d land on [Y/N]. Her eyes never dimmed with disinterest or disgust, but rather lit up with love and genuine joy. Her fingers would often be seen laced with the other woman’s, allowing her to give a squeeze here and there, whether it be reassuring, teasing, or simply because she enjoyed being there with her. As they talked about anything and everything, [Y/N] would lean into Lara’s side, and in turn, Lara would rest her head atop the younger woman’s, still glancing down at her here and there just to see the face of the one she had fallen so deeply in love with.

The look in her eye only grew stronger as the years went on, and the two ultimately married, ready to settle down for good. During the vows, Lara spoke about how gleeful [Y/N] made her feel over the years, and Jonah and Sam couldn’t help but smile at each other in understanding. They had been there to witness the joy. They knew it wasn’t temporary.

Even when Lara and [Y/N] would argue, as most couples do, it never caused that gleam in Lara’s eye to falter. It grew and grew, all the way into their thirties, then forties, then fifties, and continued to grow until their eyes closed for the final time. Had anyone outside looked into their life, even the most cynical of onlookers couldn’t wholeheartedly deny how in love they were, nor could they ignore the admiration that had burrowed in and made itself at home in Lara’s gaze, there 'til the day she died.

[brklynbxby]

Cassian chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat, trying to let the playful banter with Ella slide away, though part of him still couldn’t shake the sting. Harmony’s teasing had lightened the mood, and he was grateful for that. "Yeah, she definitely doesn't sugarcoat things," he agreed with a grin, the memory of Ella's blunt words still fresh in his mind. He studied her for a moment, noticing the shift in her tone when he asked about her connections. Cassian couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of curiosity. Was something wrong with her connections? Had something gone sideways? But she quickly redirected, and Cassian didn't want to press her. He wasn’t here to dive into anything too heavy just yet. They were supposed to be enjoying the food, the conversation—this was their time to simply be. He nodded, respecting her desire to change the subject. "Fair enough," he said with a warm smile. "Good meal, good conversation it is, then."

When she took her first bite of the food, Cassian couldn’t help but listen to her reaction, his chest swelling with a quiet pride. "I'm glad you like it," he said softly, his voice almost tender. He leaned in slightly, sensing her shift away from the topic of her connections and into safer territory. Her question about his journey in cooking gave him just the right opportunity to share something close to his heart "Ah, Rome," he said, his eyes lighting up at the mention of it. "The restaurant I worked at was small but charming—right in the heart of Trastevere. It had this old-world charm, the walls lined with dark wood and brass fixtures, almost like stepping back in time. The kitchen was open, so you could see everything—the chaos, the beauty, all of it. The chef I worked with was an older man named Giovanni—tall, gruff, with this thick, white beard and a voice like gravel." Cassian smiled, remembering those long hours spent learning. "I'd gone there during a year of travelling. Extended my stay when I told him my love for cooking and he told me how bad my Italian was. He told me I was destined for great things if only I could cook a good italian meal and know how to parlare con belle donne. The dishes we worked on were simple, yet so full of soul—like ragù alla bolognese, fresh pasta made by hand every morning, and my personal favorite, cacio e pepe. There was this unspoken rhythm to everything—each dish had its own kind of poetry. But Giovanni, he taught me more than just technique. He showed me how to cook with heart, how every ingredient had its place, and how even the smallest mistake could throw everything off balance."

He paused, his eyes meeting the screen as he shared the story. "It was intense, but it was the foundation of everything I know about cooking now. I owe a lot of my journey to those long nights in that little kitchen." The warmth of the conversation lingered in the air, and Cassian found himself more at ease than he expected. It felt good to talk about something he loved, something that gave him a sense of purpose.

Harmony laughed softly, shaking her head as Cassian explained what Ella had said to him before dumping him. The image of Ella's sharp words and Cassian’s stunned reaction was almost too amusing. “You deserved that, for sure,” she teased, her voice light and playful. “Ella doesn’t hold back, does she?” The words rolled off her tongue easily, the humor making the tension between them feel a little lighter.

She took a deep breath as Cassian asked about her connections, her mind momentarily flickering to Nathaniel, and to the unspoken truth she was carrying. Her stomach tightened, and she quickly shook her head. "Uh, yeah its going good, but uhm, lets not talk about them anymore" she replied, her voice shifting, as if she was trying to move past the topic. “Let’s just say… I’m here for a good meal and good conversation." She gave a small smile, trying to redirect things. Her gaze flickered back to the food, and she gestured toward it again with a soft laugh. "And clearly, you've got that covered."

Then, without another thought, she took a bite of the food. The moment the flavors hit her tongue, she couldn’t help but close her eyes in sheer bliss. It was like she had been transported to another dimension. It was so delicious—so rich and layered—that for a moment, she felt as though she was floating in outer space. The complexity of the flavors danced on her palate, and she was completely lost in the experience. She let out a small, satisfied hum, as if the meal itself had transported her into a new world. Her gaze softened as she looked up at him, still savoring the moment. “Cassian, this is... it’s honestly out of this world. I can’t even put into words how good this is,” she said, trying to express the level of deliciousness she was experiencing. "Tell me more about this whole cooking journey of yours. You mentioned that restaurant in Rome earlier—what was that like?" She was determined to keep the conversation focused on something else, anything else, for just a little longer. There were so many layers to unpack between them, but tonight, she didn’t want to rush into the hard conversations just yet. Not when everything still felt so delicate.

[veryreallyfuckinbad]

FIRE AND MOSS // Daryl Dixon X Reader// CHAPTER 4

TW: strong language

You tried your best to fall asleep, you were exhausted. Sleep didn’t come easy; especially not after being on your own for as long as you were. Any shut eye was interrupted by the smallest noise- leaves rustling, water dripping from trees, the gentle flapping of a bird’s wings. Every single noise made you jolt up, ready to pounce on anything that tried to come close to you. You were so used to being alone, with no backup, nobody to look out for you, nobody to care for you that spending the night at a safe place felt strange.

You rolled to your side with a heavy sigh. Your eyes hurt and you were sure you had some horrifying eyebags, too. The sleeping bag felt a little too soft, unlike the hard surface of your tent that you’ve grown so accustomed to, you haven’t laid in a sleeping bag since ‘the shit hit the fan’, as you called it. It seemed more appropriate than calling it ‘the apocalypse’, maybe because you never imagined the apocalypse to be so goddamn ugly, bloody and smelly.

You decided to sit up, knowing that you won’t fall asleep anytime soon. You knew that Jake was outside, but you didn’t know exactly what he was doing. You guessed he was running around camp or went to the forest to hang out- it was his first home, after all. He always came back to you by morning though, so you never worried. You suddenly heard the crackling of a fire and poked your head out your tent- it was Daryl. As soon as your head peeked out of the entrance of your tent, you felt Jake brush his snout against your cheek. He couldn’t sleep either, but didn’t leave to run around. He sat in front of your tent like a guardian, watching Daryl’s every move. You chuckled quietly, trying not to alert the man by the fire of your presence just yet. You studied him- his back was facing you, the wings on his leather vest were clearly visible. He was much bigger than you were- in every sense of the word. Taller, broader, heavier; in other words he was deadly to you, physically speaking. The man was like a puzzle, you couldn’t figure him out. He was watching you for God knows how long and you never even noticed, left you a gift, convinced Rick to take you in, yet he never spoke to you unless you were the one to engage conversation. He seemed rough around the edges but had a strange tenderness to him, and from what you’ve heard from the group, you were the only one to see it.

Deciding to stand up, you stretched a little and made your way over to him and decided to speak first, as not to startle him. “Hey”

His head whipped around to look at you and simply nodded in response, his dark hair falling over his icy eyes. He stared at you, waiting for you to say something else.

“Mind if I join? I can’t sleep” you kneeled next to Jake and gave the foxes’ head a small pat, awaiting Daryl’s response. He looked into your eyes but quickly shifted his gaze on something else and hummed in response. You smiled and took a seat on the opposite side of the small campfire, deciding it’s best to let him have his space. A few minutes of silence passed, you were sure Daryl didn’t mind it but sitting across from him and staring at the fire, occasionally looking up at him felt a bit uncomfortable to you. You cleared your throat and noticed his gaze shift from the fire to you.

“Not to seem ungrateful or anything” you began with a nervous chuckle, “but why did you help me out? Not just in the forest, yesterday too. You helped convince Rick to let me stay.” You grabbed a stick and poked the fire causing embers to fly up into the dark sky. Both you and Daryl took notice of Jake jumping up and trying to catch one in his mouth before it disappeared. Daryl let out a small snort that was gone before you could take it in- it was a completely new sound.

“Didn’t want him to go” he motioned to the fox with a tiny smirk, causing you to giggle. He cleared his throat and continued, which surprised you- this was your first real conversation, even if it was just about Jake. “He do any tricks?”

“Yeah, a couple actually. He can bite your face off if you keep treating him like a dog,” you gave him a playful smile, he returned the favor and mumbled something along the lines of ‘lil’ bastard’ and you went on “or my personal favorite. You got an empty can?” He looked at you with confusion, raising his eyebrows but didn’t say anything as he picked up an empty can of beans from the grass behind the log he was sitting on and threw it to you. You caught it and placed it on the damp grass near your foot, in front of Jake. He instantly put his snout inside, getting stuck.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: Mother Nature’s perfect killing machine” you announced in between chuckles and heard Daryl snort again. He smiled and shook his head while you took the can off Jake’s face. “And before you ask, I have no idea why he does that” you added while ruffling his fur lovingly. Before long, silence fell between you once again, but it was more comfortable this time. You didn’t expect any more conversation from the man- you were surprised with how much you got already, anyway. He looked at you, his face illuminated by the warm glow of the flames. Daryl’s expression was unreadable, it frustrated you that you couldn’t figure out what was going on in his head. He leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees and spoke up.

“Who ‘ere you with before us?” his low voice now sounded more gravelly than usual, he didn’t look at you. Your breath caught in your throat- you have never spoken to anyone about your previous group. Just now, you realized how much you missed them. If it weren’t for Jake and the others, you wouldn’t be where you were right now. They were the ones who taught you to survive, the ones who took you in when all seemed hopeless, they were family. They were family and when you were attacked, you didn’t even fight, you just ran. You realized your eyes were tearing up and looked at the man with nothing but shame, guilt and despair. He couldn’t see you like this, you didn’t want him to pity you or look at you differently, so you stood up. His eyes followed you, he shook his head gently to get the hair out of his face. He glanced at you apologetically, thinking he must’ve done or said something wrong. He didn’t realize you weren’t ready to open up yet.

“Alright” you chuckled sadly, trying to lighten the mood and change the subject, “It’s late, you’d better go to sleep. Jake and I will take watch”

Daryl gently shook his head and eyed you, the pressure of his gaze being much for you in that moment. You turned your back to him and pretended to look up at the star-filled sky. In reality, you tried to hold back the tears forming in your eyes. You didn’t realize that opening up would be so difficult. Deciding its best to hide from the man for the time being, you stepped into your tent. Daryl saw you fumble and shuffle inside, he couldn’t believe that you actually complied. His attention turned back to the fire, he picked up a stick from the ground and began poking the burning wood with it before his head shot up when he heard you step out of the tent with something under your arm- it was too dark to make out what it was. You stepped towards Daryl and sat beside him, your eyes now red and puffy but dry. Wordlessly, you placed the item you were holding in his lap- your sleeping bag. Daryl furrowed his eyebrows and gently touched the soft makeshift mattress with his fingers.

“Can’t sleep on it, it’s too soft for me” you looked at him, hoping he would understand. You saw something change in his eyes when the words left your mouth, like the light he had while joking with you earlier died out completely. Your mouth turned into a thin line, trying your best to give him a smile but you were sure it came out more like a sad-puppy-look than a friendly grin. Enough was enough, you were just making him pity you more. You were an enigma to him- like a puzzle piece from a completely different box. Despite going through the unimaginable, things that you couldn’t even share with him, you never failed to give him that damn smile. The smile that made him wonder whether rescuing you was a good idea- you were dangerous. Not literally, Daryl knew you couldn’t and wouldn’t hurt him. The way you made him feel was dangerous but most of all, it was completely new and utterly confusing. You were like an elusive animal; afraid only when you absolutely needed to be, defensive yet so trusting, so warm and it frustrated him. He could usually read people like open books, but you were the only exception.

You stood up and didn’t miss the way Daryl’s eyes flickering between your face and the sleeping bag in his lap. Jake followed you to the tent, but you stilled before you entered.

“Goodnight, Daryl”

You woke up to Jake’s squeaks and growls coming from outside your tent, growling as you sat up and stretched. Your eyes landed on a small roll right outside of your tent- your sleeping bag. A heavy sigh left your mouth, but you couldn’t even pretend to be mad.

“Stubborn asshole”, you didn’t even notice the smile forming on your face while you cursed Daryl out. You crouched, trying to get out of the tent and almost falling over in the process. The damn thing was small. Once you managed to get out, Jake greeted you, jumping up and standing on his hind legs, his front paws resting on your stomach. You leaned down to press him into yourself gently. “Good morning to you, too. C’mon, let’s go say hi to everyone else.”

When you made your way to the group’s campground, Glenn, Dale, Carl and Maggie walked up to you to greet you while the rest said their hello’s from their seats. You were happy to see them, glad they didn’t disappear overnight. Shit. Last night’s conversation with Daryl hit you harder than you’d thought. The group was having breakfast around a campfire- theirs was much bigger than the one Daryl made. You stared at them, wondering whether you should join. Jake sniffed the air and made it clear he smelled the meat cooking over the fire.

“Are you going to stand there and stare at us or are you gonna join?” Glenn chuckled and bumped Maggie’s shoulder with his own, “Seriously, it’s kinda creepy.”

You apologized and offered them a sheepish smile while taking a seat in between Carl and Maggie. Everyone looked up at you from time to time, which you brushed off- they were probably just curious about Jake, who sat in the space between you and Carl. Maybe they were worried he would attack Carl?

“Alright, what’s up? Now you guys are the ones being creepy.” If you had to take one more weird look, you’d probably die. Or bury yourself underground.

“You’re uh…” Rick began and fumbled over his own words, “there’s a working shower in the house.” Great, Rick. He pointed it out in front of everyone. You were about to get mad but you took a look at yourself for the first time in forever, examining your clothes- they were covered in dirt and grime, not to mention that your face and arms had dried blood all over them.

“Patricia can wash your clothes!” Maggie chimed in, clearly uncomfortable with the silence that fell upon the group. “Eat something and go wash up, I’ll get you some of my clothes for the time being”

You were perfectly content with waiting for Patricia to wash your clothes, hell, you didn’t mind washing them yourself but decided to take the offer- it was a luxury, after all.

Dale cleared his throat and handed you a paper plate with two pieces of meat on it. You thanked him with a smile and gratefully took the food. Without thinking, you grabbed the larger piece and gave it to Jake, watching as he carefully took it from your hand with his teeth while you began chewing your own piece. The taste was familiar, you’ve eaten that meat before. Was it…

“Squirrel?” you asked and noticed Rick staring at you. Dale simply nodded and looked at you with nothing but confusion painted on his face. You were being stared at again. You couldn’t help but chuckle. “What did I do now?”

“I’m pretty sure both of those were for you” Rick smirked and you dipped your head. You couldn’t imagine eating and not sharing it with Jake.

“He’s hungrier than I am” you reassured him with a grin and pat the fox between his ears. Suddenly, something hit you. There’s only one person who can catch squirrels in this group and he wasn’t there.

“Where’s Daryl? There’s no squirrel without Daryl.” It was a joke, but you couldn’t help but worry about him. He was up all night and he went out, he must’ve been exhausted. Maggie smirked and tried to suppress a snort but didn’t manage to. You weren’t sure whether she was laughing at your joke or at how worried you were, but decided to believe it was the former.

“He’s out looking for Sophia, he should be back soon.” Lori tried to sound reassuring but it didn’t make you worry any less. You tried your best not to show your anxiety, the group probably didn’t know why you’d be worried about him. They were asleep while he took watch, making sure everyone was safe.

“I’m going on a run later today. You wanna join?” Maggie asked, kneeling in front of you. You felt Jake tense at how close she got. You didn’t expect it- they trusted you instantly, while they had no reason to. You couldn’t believe it, but you quickly accepted the offer.

Once you finished your meal, you headed to the house to take your fist shower since the apocalypse began. Of course there was the occasional bath in a river or lake but nothing could compete with a warm shower, with soap too. Maggie led you to the bathroom and smiled at you before you shut the door.

“New clothes will be right outside the door on the floor!” her voice was muffled through the closed door. You shouted back a quick ‘thank you!’ before you were about to step in the shower, but something stopped you. A mirror. You looked in the reflection and didn’t recognize the person staring back at you. Your once lively eyes were now sunken down. Your cheekbones were more visible and your hair was matted and tangled. You found a brush in one of the drawers and began combing it out as quickly as you could- the shower couldn’t come soon enough. Once you were done working on your hair, you stepped into the cold, ceramic bathtub and smiled as you turned the tap and felt warm water wash over you. It was an incredible feeling- the blood and gore washing off your skin, cleansing you of the horrors outside of the farm. You ran your hands along your once smooth skin- it was now bumpy and covered with scars. They were nothing but reminders of the battles you’ve won. The pleasant smell of raspberry-scented soap filled your lungs. It was sweet and reminded you of the world before everything fell apart; sweet and tender, but stung like hell if it got into your eyes.

You closed your eyes and simply enjoyed the moment. It felt purifying. All of the pain, sorrow and grief washing off you and disappearing in the drain. The only thing the warm water couldn’t wash off was the moss that grew on your heart, almost engulfing it whole. Love was a tricky thing, it always was, but in this world it was even worse. You were unable to bring yourself to open up to the group about who you were with before, even about your pitiful life before the ‘shit hit the fan’. You didn’t want to think about your disgusting past relationships, the men you were with being the reason as to why you flinched and ducked whenever someone raised their hand at you or touched you without announcing themselves first. You only allowed yourself to cry in moments like these- alone and comfortable, always afraid of people seeing you cry. Perhaps that’s why you and Jake bonded almost instantly- your hearts were covered in moss.

You quickly opened the bathroom door and dragged your new clothes in. It was a nice outfit; a black tank top and a pair of jeans that was cut with scissors to be knee-length, along with a well-fitted black leather jacket. A smile crept up on your face when you saw yourself in the foggy mirror- you at least resembled your old self now.

Maggie was already waiting for you on the porch, sitting on the steps and smiled at you when you emerged from the door.

“Ya ready to go?” her head swung toward you while she pushed herself up from the steps, standing up. You nodded in response but quickly stiffened, remembering something,

“Can he come along?” you motioned towards Jake, who was standing by your side. Maggie shifted, her eyes flickering between you and your fox companion. She was clearly unsure and she had every reason to be- it was a wild animal. But that wild animal was insistent on following you and making sure you were okay; you did the same for him.

“We’re gonna go on horses, though.” She looked at you sheepishly and awaited your response

“That’s perfect, actually! He could use a good run” you kneeled down next to Jake, who instantly began pacing around you, brushing his fiery fur against you. “Sure has a lot of pent up energy”

You couldn’t remember the last time you rode a horse- it was long before the apocalypse even began. The animal was big, if it decided to buck you off- it would. Thankfully, you were good with animals. The horse seemed calm as it walked beside Maggie’s. It was exceptionally quiet for a while. The only sounds echoing through the empty streets of the abandoned countryside town was the rhythmic hitting of hooves against the hard concrete. Jake trotted along, not needing to run as you weren’t going fast. He clearly enjoyed going out on runs, he was the most adventurous fox you’ve ever met. The only fox you’ve ever met, actually, but you were sure other foxes weren’t this energetic or upbeat. The only weapon you carried was a hunting knife that you borrowed from Rick, who refused to let you go without any way of protecting yourself. Your goal was a small grocery store that was boarded up, which meant it probably wasn’t looted yet. Maggie clearing her throat brought you back from your thoughts.

“So, what’s up with you and Daryl?” she chimed cheerfully. You almost fell off the horse, but quickly composed yourself . What in the hell did she mean? Instead of answering her question, you decided to retort,

“What’s up with you and Glenn, huh?” you sent her a wink and noticed her roll her eyes with a small smile. There definitely was something going on with the two- they came in a bundle. If Maggie was doing laundry, Glenn suddenly decided to help her out. If Glenn was taking watch, Maggie magically appeared near him within minutes.

“Oh, c’mon.” She dismissed your question. Fair, you did the same to her. “If any of us tried to set up camp near the one and only Dixon we’d probably get an arrow in the ass” she laughed and you smiled, but still didn’t understand. If what she was saying was true- why did he let you set your tent up next to his? “Not to mention, he watched you for how long? A week?”

You couldn’t help but let out a throaty chuckle. Daryl was one confusing man.

“Yeah, that one was creepy as shit” you said, giggling like a schoolgirl and looking down, suddenly unable to meet her gaze.

The store was mostly clear of walkers, say for a couple squished together in a bathroom. You and Maggie swiftly took care of them and began looting the store. It was quite intact, with the majority of supplies untouched. You swiped as many cans as you could off the shelves, letting them drop in your duffle bag. Once you packed as much food as you could, you decided to take a look around the remaining aisles. There wasn’t anything of interest- some long expired lotions, condoms and sunglasses. You were about to leave the store with Maggie when you saw something in the corner of your eye. A sketchbook. You smiled a toothy grin and looked at Jake who was busy sniffing every shelf he came across. Quickly shoving the sketchbook in your already-full bag, you bumped Maggie’s shoulder with your own to signal her that you’re ready to leave.

The ride home was pleasant and the scenery was quite beautiful. The sky was turning a pinkish-orange color, the setting sun began giving everything an incredible orange glow. Everything looked more alive, even the abandoned stores and houses. Jake’s fur, which usually looked fiery, now looked like it was ablaze- he looked like a living flame.

When you arrived at the farm, the sky still had that beautiful glow to it. The farm looked like something out of a fairytale. You hopped off your horse and gave it a pat, leading it to the stables with Maggie. Once the horses were in place, you turned to Maggie.

“What did you mean? Earlier, about Daryl?” you stuttered, unsure if you should be asking the question.

“What I mean, (Y/N),” she put a hand on your shoulder and smiled at you brightly. It wasn’t the same smile she gave you when she asked about Daryl on the way to the store- this one was warm, inviting, yet still playful. Quickly, it turned into a smirk, “Daryl isn’t exactly easy to seduce”

What? Seducing Daryl was the last thing on your mind- all you wanted was someone you could trust, someone who would understand you. That person just so happened to be him- maybe because he was the one to save you, maybe because you were both like wild animals, maybe because he liked Jake. You smirked at that last thought and shook your head.

“Maggie” you looked deep into her eyes, placing both of your hands on her shoulders, “Even if I wanted to, I’m about as seductive as a cabbage” Maggie let out an unflattering snort and playfully hit your arm with her fist. You were unsure what to make of the exchange- did you really seem like all you wanted was flirting with Daryl? Just because he let his walls down a little for you didn’t mean anything. He probably felt comfortable around you because he saw how you were in the forest and felt like he knew you already; you can tell a lot about a person solely by their actions, afterall.

“Do I really seem like I just want to get in his pants?” you sighed and looked down in genuine sadness. You just needed a friend. When Maggie noticed how serious you got, her eyes dropped and her voice suddenly became soft, just above a whisper.

“I was kidding, I’m sorry.” She smiled a sad, uncertain smile and went on, “He just acts different around you, that’s all.” Her words made you think. You didn’t know how exactly he acted around others. Of course, he respected Rick and could be an asshole to the group from time to time, but how different could he be around you? This man gave you a headache, no matter how much time you spent thinking about what he’s thinking, you could never guess.

You nodded at Maggie and made your way out of the barn- you needed some fresh air. Deciding it was best to stay away from others to think, you headed to the only place you could think of- the very campfire you were sitting by with Daryl last night. Once you took a seat on a log, you stared into space, your hand stroking Jake’s fur from time to time. Maggie’s words echoed in your head, like someone shouted inside a tunnel, the echo repeating itself constantly. Maybe you should give the man space, maybe you shouldn’t get too close. Last time you did that, people died. All you wanted to know was what was behind those steel-blue eyes. You also decided to apologize to him for last night; he probably didn’t care much but you still felt guilty for brushing him off like that. Suddenly, Jake shot up and turned around, standing still and not moving an inch. Your head whipped back to see what spooked him so bad and saw the very man that you were thinking about. He was covered in small cuts and bruises, probably from running through thorn-covered bushes. His gaze was soft, friendly. Exactly like the one you saw last night when you so casually conversed with him. You stood up, about to say hello, about to apologize. You had to hold yourself back from hugging him- you were glad he made it back in one piece. You opened your mouth to speak but closed it when he kneeled and began shuffling around in his backpack, clearly looking for something. He wasn’t sure whether he should say something or not, maybe he should apologize for prying yesterday. He was definitely not a people person. Deciding it’s best to just let his action speak for him, he pulled out a familiar item out his backpack. Was it-

“Found yer knife. Apology for yesterday” He looked at you with that undecipherable look he had. You were baffled- what was he apologizing for?

“What the hell? Thank you so much!” you took the knife from his hands, “I was about to apologize myself. Sorry for brushing you off like that.” You smiled at him and, deciding to be brave, hit his arm with your fist gently. “Did you cut yourself so bad with my knife?” you gestured towards the many cuts on his face and the ones on his hands and arms, “Thought you were good with blades” You smirked at him. He scoffed and hopped over the log you were previously sat on and took a seat.

“Ya can bet ‘m better than ya"

----

taglist <3

@writers-adversary @kimchiwen @mileysnavely @srhxpci

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

Seen ✓ - 2

Pairing: Sam x Fem!Reader Warnings: light anxiety Word Count: 2.2k Series Summary: On her way home, Y/n finds an abandoned, cracked phone on the sidewalk. Anxious about the well-being of its owner, she picks it up and texts the first contact she finds; Sam. A/N: Chapter 2! Our pals are kicking it off already. Can you smell the chemistry? The rOMANCE? LESSGO

Pictures used in this chapter were found on google images :)

Beta: no one.

Catch up! : Part 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2: overthinker.

From: y/n_andrews85 To: D_impala67 Subject: I have your phone. That sounds creepy. I don’t think there’s a non-creepy way of writing this. Whatever.

Dear Dean, is it?

I just wanted to let you know I found your phone at the bus stop the other night. I wasn’t planning on holding on to it, really, but I got worried that you may have been in trouble, and then you never really looked for it either so, I don’t know, I figured better than someone who’ll snatch it and leave, you know?

Anyways, that’s why I’m emailing. I snooped through it a little, sorry, hopefully you’ll understand it was kinda necessary? Maybe we can arrange something so I can get it back to you. This girl, Jamie, keeps sending me (well you technically) topless photos of her. It’s not really what lights my candle. I’m assuming you’d like it back too.

I hope you’re safe. Looking forward to hearing back from you!

Y/n Andrews

-

Do you believe me now?

oh god

you didn’t

Sure did

wow. just wow.

you just handed his ass back to him holy shit!

last time he called, he said he dropped his phone while walking back to his motel, so

he’s okay.

That’s good, I’m glad he’s safe.

I was planning on including something along the lines of “This would’ve been easier if you were an active member of the 21st century and used social media”

But I figured the Jamie thing was motive enough?

yeah. topless Jamie? that’s something else.

Don’t be getting any ideas, dude, I don’t do nudes lmao.

oh god, no i didn’t think that

you did not just type lmao though. how old are you again?

oh god, you’re not 14 or something right? i don’t know what that would make me.

Don’t worry about it, I turned 16 last week.

…

are you serious?

Lmao, no, I’m kidding. I’m twenty-two.

But I think the word you’re looking for is a creep. Oh, and an ageist.

ouch.

Haha, I’m joking.

Lighten up, what are you, ninety?

hi pot meet kettle.

Shit I walked right into that one.

also i’d like to think i don’t text like a ninety-year-old man. could be wrong though

to answer your question i’m twenty-four.                                

Twenty-four huh? I assume you’re done with college, no?

Or- wait, I guess not everyone goes to college.

Yes, this is me fishing for information.

well… i kinda dropped out.

decided to go on a road trip with my brother.

things went a little south I ended up continuing the family business.

Damn, college drop-out ey? Where from?

Also, Family business? What do you do?

Is this too interview-y? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to snoop.

you’re good.

stanford. pre-law.

and my brother and i are private investigators. that’s why he’s not in Kansas with me. he’s working a case.

Daaaaamn. Stanford AND a lawyer? And now working as a PI? You’re pretty smart, then.

an ageist and a generalist? i didn’t take you for such y/n.

Fuck, okay, you sound like a lawyer too.

hahahah

so what about you?

What about me?

are you in college?

Oh yeah! Film school. My dream has always been to be a director. It’s rare to find someone who loves movies more than I do.

that’s really cool.

hey i’ve been meaning to ask.

Thinking of me, Sam?

…

Do tell.

how come you were walking home through a park in the middle of the night the other day?

Ooh, I was coming back from work.

I’m a bartender and I had a late shift on Friday.

oh I see. That makes sense yeah.

I’m sorry to cut this conversation short, but I’m legitimately three seconds away from falling asleep. I’m gonna hit the hay.

See you later, Sam :)

See you, y/n :)

A smile creeps on Y/n’s features at the thought of more conversations with Sam. He has given her something to look forward to, something to make her a little more excited during her boring every-day life. As she tucks herself in under her covers, eyelids heavy enough to droop involuntarily, the last thing she thinks of is him, the clever, sassy, twenty-four year old college dropout on the other side of the cracked phone screen. The overwhelming urge to get to know him overtakes her as she succumbs to sleep

--

So

Do you believe in ghosts?

that’s… random.

May be

why do you ask?

Idk, just wanna get to know you better.

that’s what you ask people you want to get to know better?

Yes?

Are you avoiding the question?

no

i do. believe in ghosts.

You?

So do i.

Well, sorta. I guess I believe in souls more than anything.

hm?

Well… I guess I hope (more than believe) that we are more than our corporeal selves.

In the sense that, it’s comforting to me that when we die, and our bodies stop working, we don’t evaporate.

I guess.

yeah I understand.

i don’t know. i guess i wanna believe in science more than anything but i know better.

How do you mean?

call it a hunch.

Oh c’mon, it’s gotta be more than that.

Sam…?

Y/n huffs out a breath, gnawing at her lip. She hopes her anxiety isn’t right, that Sam isn’t sick of her silly questions and existential dread, and is actually doing something. Perhaps his battery ran out.

...Sure.

She was doing something too, before she decided to text him. Eyes falling on all her books and notes, spread around her like ugly, depressing, anxiety-inducing flower petals. There’s a blanket over her legs, chilly fall weather seeping through her bones, and there’s a half empty pizza box in front of her. She’s full and the left overs are kept for her sister, Emily, who’s currently locked up in her room.

Damn it. Y/n is stressed and tired, and now her distraction is refusing to reply. This sucks. She hates the crawling, awful, gooey feeling of cold anxiety gripping every beat of her heart and stupidly convincing her he’s purposefully ghosting her, because he doesn’t like her.

Not knowing what to occupy herself with, she heads to take a shower. In the back of her head, she knows that she’ll probably not study any longer, so she takes it upon herself to sink under the hot water and wash thoroughly, trying to get her mind off Dean’s phone. When her feet step out of the shower and she has towel-dried herself as best as she can, she tosses her wet hair in a haphazard bun, and gets dressed.

Books stack under the rickety, stained coffee table, and she grabs her sketchbook, her favorite pencil, as well as her and Dean’s phone. She shoots Connor a text, arranging a hang out of some kind, and opens her little booklet, when a text vibrates Dean’s phone.

hey i’m sorry i got caught up in something.

It’s alright.

She doesn’t press the ghost subject, because he doesn’t seem into it and she really doesn’t wanna make him dislike her any more than he possibly already does.

The empty page of her sketchbook daunts her. With a tight grip on her mechanical pencil, she urges her creativity pumps to use some gasoline, but they seem limp and dead, and once more unwilling to help her. As her eyes fall on Dean’s phone, like a light bulb out of a cartoon, she gets an idea.

Hey, this might sound creepy, but what do you look like?

She stares at the phone. This feels like a risky question. God, if he wasn’t done with her before, he certainly must be now. But then, he surprises her.

why do you wanna know?

I’m in the mood to sketch some, and my creativity has officially left the building.

Care to help a girl out? Maybe your literary descriptions will spark something in me lmao.

i didn’t know you sketched.

Yeah, sometimes. Nothing great though, I promise. I’m certainly no Picasso.

i mean you don’t have to be picasso to sketch well. and you don’t have to sketch well to sketch at all.

Yeah, may be.

I don’t wanna pressure you into anything, you really don’t have to humor me.

If you do feel like it though, don’t send me a picture. Kinda wanna spark some life into my brain cells.

haha i will. only if you show me the finished product tho.

You’ve got yourself a deal :)

She simply cannot believe he has just agreed to this. Her breath is caught in her throat.

so.

what do you want me to start with?

Just whatever. Idk, tell me about your face.

well

i have brown curly-ish hair that reaches my ears. uh, my eyes are hazel.

Okay, that’s a start.

What’s your nose like?

it’s a bit pointy. thin i think?

Jawline?

sharp? i guess?

this is by far the weirdest thing i’ve done.

Lmao, yeah, this is pretty weird.

Exciting though.

She shouldn’t have said that. Fuck, that is definitely overeager.

yeah it is.

Her stomach feels floaty at his response.

Eyebrows?

uh

normal?

How do you classify “normal” eyebrows, exactly?

i don’t know? they’re simple i guess.

Are you implying complicated eyebrows exist out there?

…

Elaborate, Sam. Are you shy? Do you not have eyebrows? Are they bushy? Or too thin? Or pointy?

i’m telling you they’re average.

Sam

what

You officially suck at this.

oh fuck off how would you describe yours?

Y/n proceeds to write a cohesive sentence that includes adjectives apart from “normal” and “average”. Words like bushy, thin, arched and curvy.

well shit yeah i guess i do suck at this.

i think it’s not a skill i mind not having.

That… is a confusing sentence.

just… draw them however. what difference can eyebrows make?

Oh you have no idea.

Okay, last thing.

Do you have a fringe?

yeah but not for long. i’ll probably let it grow out.

Okay, I can do something with that. Thanks :)

no problem

Her creativity is finally servicing her according to her commands, and Y/n puts pen to paper and scribbles messily. Line after line, they curl and sit on the page, forming a smile with thin lips, a sharp jaw, a pointy nose. She has to guess the eyebrows a bit, and the eyes are more cartoonish and generic than she likes. In the end, she gets anxious at the prospect of having to show him, and gives him a hood, so she won’t fuck up the hair.

Okay, I’m done.

that was quick, actually.

Well I didn’t have much to go on.

Sam doesn’t reply. She worries he might have misinterpreted her teasing tone.

Gimme a sec, I’ll send it over.

Ugh, Dean’s camera is such shit. Do you mind if I send it from my phone?

no go ahead.

[Y/n has sent a picture]

As you said, it didn’t take long. It’s really not the best.

that…

is actually not too far from the truth

it kind of looks like me from two years ago

wow, really?

yeah.

and it’s honestly a pretty good sketch. good job.

Thank you :)

Sam doesn’t say anything after this, and she huffs. Her head falls back on the couch, and she stares at the ceiling. She should go to bed soon, it’s getting late.

isn’t this strange?

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit oh shit, she thinks. He’s regretting this. He doesn’t like her. He’ll stop talking to her and that’ll be it.

Why does she care so much? It’s a thought that passes through her mind. It hasn’t been long since they started talking and, after the near-kidnapping encounter, they’ve been having nearly daily conversations, but that still doesn’t mean much. She knows barely anything about him.

She guesses, she wants to get to know him better. He seems like the type of guy she’d enjoy hanging out with and she has so far. Stopping any kind of conversation would surely feel like a loss. She’d have to go back to her boring routine. This is the most exciting thing she has allowed herself to do in years.

A part of her feels rather lame for finding such a thrill at something so trivial. She’s talking to a stranger, and that’s all it is, but the prospect that he could be anyone at all, and she’s never even seen his face… well… It feels refreshing, new. Scary in an adrenaline-rush kind of way.

What is?

us. texting.

isn’t it a little odd?

I guess it is a bit.

I mean we’ve only known each other for, what, a week? And a half?

yeah.

should we stop?

I don’t know

Do you want to?

The extra moment his reply takes to arrive makes her want to vomit.

no

Then there’s your answer.

okay then

can I save you in my contacts?

Sure, go ahead.

I just did too.

alright.

Okay :)

I’m sorry, I have to go.

I guess I’ll text you later, Sam.

Go be whoever Sam Something is.

it’s winchester.

Like the shotgun?

yup.

That’s BADASS. Can you even get more badass than this? Pre-law, now a PI, and you’re named after a shotgun? Damn dude.

Well, it’s nice to meet you Sam. I’m Y/n Andrews.

Haha thanks.

nice to meet you, too

goodnight Y/n Andrews.

Night Sam Winchester :)

--- Part 3

A/N: Thoughts? How are you liking the newer version of this? right after I post it, I’m gonna delete the other one.

Taglist:

Old Can You See The Stars taglist: @shutupiminlooove @sammysgirl1997 @kymberlytorres @bambi95-blog @demonic-meatball @thekarliwinchester @littlekay15 @li-m-ii  @thinspo-isuppose @carryonmywaywarddemigodwitch @ellen-reincarnated1967 @moonlitskinwalker @marichromatic @illuminatus42 @lazy-author @mirandaaustin93 @hauntedsiriel @pilaxia @devilgirlsarah @nobodys-baby-now @captiveties @calamitychaos @midiocris @wordswillscream​

Sam taglist @kymberlytorres @theboykingsam @depressed-moose-78 @andi-mendes-barnes @captainmarvelcorps @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @nellachain

[ironmandeficiency]

all’s fire in love & war

pairing: hardcase / reader

word count: 1911

summary: hardcase hatches a plan to win your affection that doesn’t quite go off without a hitch. you’re infuriated at his eagerness to endanger himself but also quite sentimental when the burn marks in the terrain simulation arena look suspiciously like a heart.

a/n: i’ve fallen in love with hardcase, all there is to it. idk whether him, dogma, or tup were at point rain but they were now. (this is also somewhat inspired by this art by @panthermouth​ )

read it on ao3

“hardcase! you were only supposed to detonate the droids, not the whole karking simulation arena!” fives was, quite understandably, furious. this was the third time in five days hardcase has pulled a stunt like this, which was far more often than normal. hardcase was giggling like a child that had eaten too many sweets, thoroughly enjoying the blazing inferno before him. the sprinklers went off like clockwork and it was honestly so strange to think that hardcase was actually considered an adult.

you were a civvie medic assigned to the 501st, and your time was divided between the resolute and the front lines. the clones seemed to worship the ground you walked on, which you attributed to the way you fought at point rain. it could also have a lot to do with the way you’d give contraband (read: candies) after their visits and the soft voice you’d use with shinies experiencing their first med bay trip.

his smile was the first thing you noticed about hardcase. its boyish charm and hints of trouble lurking beneath it working like a magnet pulling your affections to him. it was hard to find peace and quiet when he was around, but since you hated silence, it was great to hear his voice after a long day elbow-deep in blood and bacta.

you groaned as the sirens went off, not even bothering to throw your blacks on before slipping on your boots and going to assess the damage. you were in night clothes that didn’t keep much else covered besides the necessities, but you weren’t one to shy away when it came to your body. your state of dress was inconsequential to you at the moment because there was something happening that may need your presence.

the day of a medic was never over.

your feet were pounding on the durasteel floor of the resolute, partly hoping that you were woken needlessly for the sake of the men but also that you weren’t roused from a particularly pleasant dream for no valid reason.

another boom shook the ground slightly and you did not like the way the alarms seemed to get louder in protest to the second shock.

your entrance to the terrain simulation arena was loud and heavy from the near-spring you’ve been in since you left your bunks, your breaths being heavy and a smidge labored.

“what’s wrong, vod- holy kriff, we need a medic! medic!” you recognized the voice in seconds. the fact you could taste the explosion in the air did nothing to soothe the nerves that had built up at the arc trooper’s tone. there was no time for jitters or worrying, you had a job to do.

your feet carried you to fives’s side, quickly reassuring him with a hand in his shoulder. “i’m here, fives! what happened?”

“this pile of bantha fodder decided to go overboard and now he’s-”

“it doesn’t matter if i went ‘overboard’ on this,” hardcase did finger quotes around the accusational word with a sith-may-care grin, “it’s working! this was, uh, just a minor setback.” that is, if being impaled with droid metal could be considered minor anything.

fives could have killed him right then but somehow was able to grip his last remaining bit of self-restraint tight enough. the restraint didn’t weaken the desire to strangle his vod’ika but it sure kept him from acting on it. ‘we’re literally right next to a medic, if i killed him now she’d probably be quick enough to bring him back-’ the tirade was cut off with a groan from hardcase, the man slightly moving within the grips of five’s arms.

you had no idea what kind of plan (that fives was in on by the sound of his frustration) the brothers had concocted. the only thing you were focusing on was the embedded piece of shrapnel in hardcase’s side that was bleeding a bit too much for your liking. the fool didn’t even bother to have full armor on when dealing with his precious explosives and was seeming to have no issue whatsoever with being impaled by some sort of twisted metal far too mangled to identify.

the fire from the explosions were smoldering as you and fives lifted hardcase between you both, making a mad dash to the medbay. hardcase was determined to not be carried and so his legs would occasionally try to carry a bit of his weight; the pain was white-hot and with every step he attempted to make he tripped over his own feet. through the pain, he was still adamant that his injuries were a minor setback.

what was new information, however, was the tinge of fear in your eyes as you and fives gently laid him in a bed, fives being grilled with questions while you and kix both got to work. it filled him with guilt he didn’t have the hindsight to consider if things went sideways in his plan (which they did).

hardcase only intended on your presence being a precautionary one at most. he knew you’d be one of the first to respond to an incident almost anywhere in the ship and even though part of him didn’t like taking advantage of your caring nature, he made sure to act on his plan somewhere he knew you’d be the first to reach. there wasn’t a part of his plan that accounted for him actually being injured, let alone the frantic tone so unfamiliar to him as you shouted things to kix.

in the eyes of the 501st (and the 212th) you had no fear. back during the second attack on geonosis, you took up arms alongside them despite the multitude of regs clearly stating that civilian medics were prohibited from participating in combat. a member of the 501st had used his dying breath to give you his dc-15s and the moment his hand lost its grip on yours, you figuratively told the regs to kiss your shebs in the form of shooting every droid and bug in your way.

you were enraged but calculated while kicking ass (it still got hardcase a bit hot under his blacks when thinking about it), and when the battle ended you were immediately back into the medbay as if you never left your medical duties. there was no evidence that you had previously been fighting alongside the rest of them with the ease you slipped back into your duties, your voice returning to the soothing firmness of someone that cared about the men under their care.

this was also the day hardcase fell head over shebs for you, your desire to go above and beyond for clones of all the people in the galaxy standing out to the heavy gunner. it was in the way you’d happily listen to him ramble on about whatever his mind thought of next and actually contribute to what would normally be a one-sided conversation, even among his closest vod’e. you cared about who he was as an individual far beyond just his physical health and he ached to show you how much that meant to him.

safe to say, what was going to be a well-humored display of affection turning into an emergency trip to you and kix was not part of his plan. what’s worse is that he had become the reason your voice had lost its calming cadence, your words rushed and sounded like you were teetering on the edge of losing it.

why were you so worried about little ol’ him?

he wanted to ponder the implications more but he was knocked out, either by an anaesthetic shot or blood loss, he was too far gone to know which.

--------

kix has had the idea bouncing in his head for a while, but tonight’s events solidified his thoughts into one fact: hardcase was a kriffing idiot.

when fives told kix about the “plan” his vod’ika had cooked up to get the attention of his fellow medic, it took several deep breaths and the promise of alderaanian wine in his bunk to keep from doing something rash. only an idiot (which hardcase was established to be) would be blind to the extra care you held for the di’kut.

you’d always be sure to stash his favorite flavor of medbay candies away for when he came in for one thing or another (usually it was just to lighten the mood of less-crowded shifts) and listen to the word vomit that never ceased to come from his mouth even through sleep. kix isn’t the only one who’s noticed the lingering physical contact when it was completely unnecessary but it grated on him more than most, seeing as he was subjected to its naivety more than most.

the fact that hardcase thought he’d need a heart-shaped explosion to get your attention truly attested to his stupidity.

he was just glad that hardcase didn’t need time in a bacta for all the trouble this was. the largest piece lodged into his abdomen and -thank the maker- missed his organs. but even bacta couldn’t keep it from getting a pretty gnarly scar, something he knew wouldn’t bother his vod a bit. knowing hardcase, he’d boast about the thing to anyone who’d listen.

kix had sedated him not long after he was brought in. fives had been dismissed after kix had heard enough of the ridiculous plan that had landed hardcase in medical, and the privacy left kix with the perfect opportunity for a conversation with his fellow medic.

“y’alright, y/n?” he started off easy, knowing that your worry was bound to make you more sensitive than normal.

your breath was shaky as you exhaled, leaning against the bed hardcase occupied. “would it be bad if i said no?”

“not in my eyes, baar'ur’ika. i know you care about him an awful lot.” a playful smile graced his features, hoping to ease the tension he could sense radiating off you. it worked a little, your shoulders slumping out of the tense posture they carried minutes earlier.

“i do care about him, and that’s what makes it all worse! we’re fighting a war here, death is as common as a blaster!” you took a deep breath, trying to fight the way your voice gets weaker but failing. “ i don’t know if i could survive losing him, kix.”

kix continued to apply bacta to the smaller cuts hardcase sustained before continuing. “the fact we’re in war should encourage you to show him what you feel. us clones never know when we’ll die, and our last thoughts are always on the things that made us happy, that made this damned war worth fighting. i know for a fact that if hardcase died tomorrow, his last thoughts will be of you.”

yeah his words were meant to be encouraging, but they were a painful reminder all the same. maybe it was time to let yourself have a sliver of happiness within the death and sorrow that permeated the entire gar. you may not completely believe you deserve the happiness he would bring you, but hardcase surely deserves whatever happiness you could give him.

you didn’t know what to say in reply so you continued your work in silence. once the sedation wore off, hardcase would be free to leave. until then, you could stay beside him and wonder how the kriff you were going to explain your feelings to the idiot that won your affections with no effort.

[hedwigstalons]

SpaceBear - bit 4 (end)

So this has finally reached the end (for now).  I will probably return to these precious babies at some point because the SpaceBear ship is just glorious.

Huge thanks to @willow-salix for naming this ship and for massive amounts of help in pulling this to some sort of conclusion.  

Bit 1 is here, Bit 2 , Bit 3

Bit 4

The shamefaced pair trailed down to the kitchen after Scott, like condemned prisoners following behind their jailor who led them in stony silence.  As if having big brother walk in on them hadn’t been bad enough he had stood there, tall and imposing in the doorway, waiting while discarded clothes were found and reclaimed.  Despite all the times he’d changed in front of his brothers Alan had never felt more naked and exposed even though he had still been half dressed.

Entering the lower level of the villa they found the table all set, Virgil and Gordon already seated and staring hungrily at empty plates.  The warm smells coming coming from the kitchen module were actually pretty good for a change although Alan wasn’t too sure he had much of an appetite any more.

“You’re late, boys.  Now hurry up and wash your hands then you can help me carry over the dishes, I made the others wait for you.”

With a quick chorus of “Sorry Grandma” and “Sorry Mrs Tracy” the pair hurried over to the sink to get washed up while Scott headed back to his place at the table.

“I really shouldn’t have to send Scott to fetch you, you know,” Sally scolded.  “I’d have thought after spending all day at the Expo you would have had enough of playing games.  Never mind, you’re here now so we can get started.”

She hustled them about, setting them to ferrying the serving dishes over to the table where they were eagerly pounced upon by Gordon and Virgil.  Scott was more reserved but she put it down to a tough day in the office, TI business was a necessary evil for him and he was often a little bit muted after a day stuck in a suit.  

Once everyone had had a chance to load their plates, and the initial babble of conversation between those who weren’t privy to the scene in Alan’s bedroom had faded as eating took priority, Scott finally broke his silence, his words falling like lead.  “So, when were you going to tell us?“  Walking in on his baby brother had come as something of a shock, Alan had been his responsibility for so long it was sometimes hard to accept that the kid he had taken custody of was growing up.  It probably didn’t help matters that the other party was Brandon.  He tolerated Brandon’s presence, mostly because he had been persuaded how good it was for Alan to have a friend outside the family, but the vlogger was definitely more worldly than his brother and preceded by a reputation that Scott did not approve of.  His protective instincts had been ignited and right now he was wishing he’d followed his gut and kept Brandon away from the island.

Alan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  He’d barely had time to come to terms with things himself and he and Brandon hadn’t actually got as far as defining what they were before giving in to their physical wants.

"Tell us what?” Virgil put down his fork and looked between his oldest and youngest brothers, Scott was radiating animosity and Alan looked nervous as hell.   

“Alan and Brandon here have been getting a little up close and personal." 

"Lighten up Scott, it was one kiss.  You make it sound like the end of the world”

Scott had been expecting an answer but he hadn’t been expecting it to come from Gordon.  “What do you mean ‘one kiss’?  It’s a damn sight more than that."  

Confusion reigned supreme on Gordon’s face.  "No, it wasn’t.  I saw the footage.”

“What footage?  What are you on about Gords?”  The question was low and threatening and Gordon found himself swallowing nervously despite having a pretty clear conscious for once.

“The Expo of course, what are you on about?”

“I just caught these two,” the words were spat with more force than was strictly necessary as Scott waved vaguely in the direction of Alan and Brandon, “fooling around in Alan’s room.  Now what’s this about the Expo?”  The pair in question were subjected to the full force of the Commander’s stare; Scott knew he was coming across as intimidating and probably overreacting but after a day spent examining share prices and and listening to market forecasts he was in no mood to be dealing with unexpected surprises. 

“That was all my fault, Scott,” Brandon stammered.  “I kinda got carried away with all the cameras there and surprised Alan, he…he had nothing to do with it.”

“Hmm,” Scott frowned, not missing the slight shift in movement that suggested Alan had grasped Brandon’s hand under the table or the grateful look Brandon shot him in response; it was a show of unity he hadn’t expected.  “That doesn’t make it any better.”  He reached up and activated his comm “Come in Thunderbird Five, I’ve got a job for you.”

“What is it, Scott?” the missing sibling popped into being via the nearest holoprojector, looking puzzled at being summoned.

“I need you to go through the footage from the Expo Alan went to.  You might need to do some damage limitation.”

“Uh, okay.  Are you going to give me a clue what I’m looking for?”

“Oh I think you’ll know when you see it.”

“FAB.”  The slightly puzzled Space Monitor winked out of existence as the link was cut.

Knowing that John was dealing with whatever had happened at the Expo, and taking Gordon’s lack of concern over the footage as a sign that whatever had been caught on film wasn’t too major, Scott focussed his attention back on the unhappy couple.

“So is this serious between you or what?”  

The tension between oldest and youngest was palpable.  Alan licked his lips nervously, trying to work out how to phrase things and desperately wishing there wasn’t such an audience as all eyes turned towards him.  Was it serious?  Was Brandon his boyfriend now?  He certainly knew what he wanted it to be.  

“Yeah, yeah it is.”  Brandon had cut in before he had the chance to answer, giving Alan’s hand a reassuring squeeze at the same time.  This time it was Alan giving Brandon the grateful look; he knew how hard it was to face up to Scott when he got like this.  

"Well I think it’s great, honey,” Grandma stepped in, giving Scott a brief warning look that clearly said the interrogation was over before turning her attention on the new couple.  “Hey, maybe you can come on a double date with me and Kip.”  She knew Scott had to get whatever concerns he had out of his system but his attitude needed keeping in check.  This was meant to be a nice family dinner after all.

“Ewww, Grandma!” Alan exclaimed.

“Don’t worry, I’m only messing with you.  I wouldn’t want any of you boys along anyway, it might cramp my style.”  She winked at Alan, causing him to shudder.  “Now will someone pass me those bread rolls, I’m hungry.”

The meal passed in relative normality after that although the oldest and youngest brothers ate barely a fraction of their usual portion.  Alan’s stomach was still in knots and he could only pick at his food while Scott was obviously still brooding but with Grandma giving her seal of approval any further discussions of Alan and Brandon’s fledgling relationship were clearly off limits.  

Mostly off limits.  Alan knew the silence from Scott was too good to last.

“Virgil, I’m going to need you to have a talk with Alan and Brandon after dinner.”  While he might not like the idea of his baby brother having anything that even remotely resembled a sex life he had to accept that this was a likely progression.  He would be failing in his duty if he didn’t make sure the couple went into this with their eyes open but same sex relationships were outside his personal realm of experience, hence calling on his next in line.  

“Huh, what about?”  Virgil looked up from his plate, he was far less bothered than Scott about the whole situation and wasn’t too sure what else there was to discuss.

“Alan.  And Brandon."  Scott gave his brother a pointed look. 

Virgil’s brow furrowed in confusion before realisation hit.  "Oh, right, couple stuff.  Really though Scott the rules aren’t any different just cos it’s a guy, but sure I’ll talk to them."  

Alan wanted the ground to swallow him up and he could feel the rising blush creeping towards his ears.  He could not believe this was happening.  He wasn’t completely clueless on the facts of life and Brandon definitely wasn’t.  To make matters worse Gordon was grinning like a Cheshire cat at the prospect, probably thinking up his own contributions Alan suspected.

"Really, it’s okay, we’re good.” Feeling the discomfort radiating off of Alan, Brandon tried to ward Virgil off.

“Oh no,” Virgil smirked, although to Brandon the look seemed vaguely reminiscent of a shark circling its prey, “if you intend to be involved with my little brother we are definitely going to talk.”

“Grandma, is this really necessary?” Alan tried to appeal to the one person who he thought he could count on as an ally.

“Actually dear, I’m with your brothers on this one.  Now if everyone’s finished I’ve got some jobs I want to do.  Gordon, can you give me a hand please, I’ve got some boxes I want shifting.”  She knew she wouldn’t be able to persuade Scott to leave but she could at least take some of the pressure off the situation.

The aquanaut grimaced but knew better to disobey.  Much as it would have been fun to watch Alan squirm he knew his Grandma was deliberately giving the others space; two big brothers was more than enough for Alan to be dealing with and Virgil would stop Scott from going overboard.  Anyways, he could impart his worldly wisdom any time he fancied grossing his brother out.

With Gordon and Grandma out the way a heavy silence settled over the table.  Scott was still radiating animosity and the attitude was starting to bug Virgil.  So what if Scott wasn’t a fan of Brandon?  Alan obviously was and if the feeling was mutual who was he to get in their way.  He took a sip of his water and waited for Scott to say something but Scott had evidently decided it was all on him now.  He cleared his throat.

“Now I don’t know what the pair of you have been getting up to, and to be honest I don’t want to know, but if you two are now an item there are some ground rules you need to follow.  Alan, you have a lock on your bedroom door, I suggest you start using it.  Brandon, whenever you stay over there will be a guest room for you as normal; it’s up to the pair of you if you use it but it’s there.”

“Now I don’t think…” Scott tried to butt in but Virgil cut him off.  If big brother was going to pass the buck on anything that wasn’t strictly hetero then he could keep his mouth shut for the moment.  And anyway, Virgil thought, Scott was a hypocrite.  He could well remember Scott’s own early forays into the world of dating which had started far earlier than Alan’s.

“No, Scott.  Alan not a kid any more and neither is Brandon.  I don’t want them to feel like they need to sneak around and neither do I want to barge in on anything.  Or have you forgotten how many times I had to cover for you or come up with some excuse to keep Dad out of wherever you’d chosen to mess around with your latest squeeze?”  Once he was satisfied that there would be no more interruptions he turned back to Alan and Brandon. “Now judging from the way Scott here has decided to drag me into all this I guess things have already started getting pretty physical between the two of you.”  Alan didn’t think it was possible to sink any lower in his seat but he tried.  “Now there are only two rules but they are absolutely non-negotiable.  Firstly, if you choose to go that far, you always use protection.  You have no excuse not to, there is always a stock in the cabinet in the infirmary, just make a note on the pharmacy order if supplies are running low.  And secondly, you do not do anything that you aren’t both wholly comfortable with.  You always check the other person is happy and if either of you want to stop at any point you stop.  Oh, and Brandon, if you dare hurt my little brother I personally know of at least 6 ravines where you could have a very convincing accident.“

Once Virgil had said his piece Scott launched in again, mostly about not broadcasting everything about their lives to the public or splashing it all over the vlog.  It was a request the pair happily agreed to; Alan wasn’t keen on the idea of navigating life with Bradon in front of millions of viewers and Brandon felt like he would have agreed to anything if it meant being able to get away from the combined force of Tracys one and two.

When they were finally released from their lecture Alan and Brandon fled back to the sanctuary of Alan’s room.  Alan clicked the lock into place behind them; still a bit shaky after the ordeal at dinner it wasn’t that he was in the mood to continue where they left off, more that he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of any more rules or advice from the family, well meant or otherwise.  

Brandon climbed up onto the bed and sat up against the wall, resting his forearms on drawn up knees.  “Man, Scott was like, so intense and boy I do not want to go piss off Virg, I used to think he was the soft one but I kinda think he scares me more than Scott.  Are your family always this extreme?”

“Yeah, sorry, they can get a little over protective sometime.  You do know Virgil was joking about the ravines, right?” 

“Right,” Brandon looked like he wasn’t wholly convinced though.  “Just as well I like living life on the edge.  Always be extreme and all that.”

“Were you alright with what they said, about not putting stuff about us out on your vlog?”

“Well clips with you or your brothers in already get 30% more views, think of the ratings.”

“Brandon!”

“Relax Alan.  No cameras, no clips.  I don’t have to put everything about me online and I don’t want to.  The media, well, you’ve seen how it can chew you up and spit you out and I don’t want to do anything that could hurt you.”  

Brandon patted the bed and Alan responded to the invitation.  He climbed into the gap between Brandon’s legs and settled his back against Brandon’s chest, feeling a slight thrill as warm arms circled round him in a gentle hug.  This was a side to Brandon that was rarely seen, a softer, gentler, more serious side that was at odds with the carefully curated persona of the Bear.  

As Alan’s weight settled comfortably back against him, the smaller form cocooned by his own slightly taller frame, Brandon felt luckier than he had done in a long time.  Alan wasn’t what would normally be considered his type, not if the string of conquests behind him was anything to go by, but there was something about the young Thunderbird with his raw and open honesty that had Brandon craving more than a quick fling.  There was a connection he’d never felt with anyone else before and he made a sincere and silent promise to look after the man who had first welcomed him into his life and his family and then invited him a step further into his heart.

He didn’t know if this would be a forever thing but he did know he was grateful for the chance to try, the chance to prove that he could be more than just a jackass pulling stunts for the cameras.  There was something about Alan, nestled comfortably against him like a puzzle piece where he had drifted off to sleep half way through a movie, that gave him a feeling of deep contentment and he dropped a gentle kiss onto the slumbering head beside him.  Commitment had never been on his radar before, uncomplicated fun was more his usual style, but this was different; a relationship to be explored slowly at whatever pace Alan felt comfortable with and if that meant starting off with movie nights punctuated by tentative kisses, well, he was happy to go along with that.   

-FIN-

[mcfanely]

The Ice Emperor and the Earth Dragon

Finally safe and sheltered inside a cave from the weather outside, both Zane and Cole find a moment to rest. Shared conversations and thoughts about their situation brings something possibly dire to light. 

Chapter 04 - Dawning Realisations, 1993 words

Zane moved the mech further towards the back of the cave until it wouldn't fit much more, then finally, he allowed it to settle onto the floor. Cole observed all this from a distance with his hands held under his arms to try and preserve what warmth he had remaining, his breath fogging clearly in front of him. At least there wasn't that wind anymore, and the floor was rock and not layers of frigid snow and ice. 

He kept his gaze on Zane, following his movements slowly. He made his way over to a wall once he'd situated the mech to his liking and Cole would be lying if he didn't see the brief flash of hesitance move over his friend’s face. The notion that he was going to be putting the staff down, leaving the power behind. Before they'd known of the scroll's existence, Cole would have placed bets that no amount of power could be tempting to Zane. Nothing would override his need to simply be caring, to be aware and be present. To put others before himself, before his own needs and safety. It was selflessness, it was what had caused him to move in front of Sensei Wu when Aspheera had made her final move, it was what had made him take on the Overlord on his own on that fateful and sorrowful day all those years ago. Cole would say that it was what fuelled the nindroid, the drive to do good. 

Though power could corrupt, power could be tempting and addicting. But to actually see it having an effect, to watch as reluctance and literal strain show through Zane's expressions as all he did was let go of the staff was unnerving. It was foreign and made some of the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Had he looked like that before when he'd gotten lost in thought? When he'd snapped at Zane? Had he really been that deep into the power? 

The only reason he'd let go himself was because it had been forcefully knocked from his hand, otherwise he would be in the same situation as Zane. No doubt about it. Staff in hand, power flowing easily, would he have been able to put it down in that situation?

Zane did manage to let go quickly, though. The scroll's light fading and plunging the cave into that bit more of a prevalent darkness without the blue hue reflecting off its frozen surfaces. The staff fell against the wall, propping itself up. Cole would have liked to cover it, liked to put it in a place that was out of sight. They just couldn't risk losing it. So it had to be there, in clear view. If there was a link home, it would most likely come from the same power that had sent them there in the first place. 

It was their ticket back to Ninjago. It had to be. If the staff could send people to a different realm, then it could send them back, why wouldn’t it be able to? The only issue was that they didn't didn't know how to do that; or if it could do that in their hands, or only Aspheera's. 

Cole stepped over to Zane, and didn't miss the way his shoulders slumped down with a heavy breath. 

"Hey, you okay?" Cole raised an eyebrow and placed a gentle hand onto his shoulder, "You should sit down, take a break. I'll deal with the mech."

Zane paused, as if considering the offer, before shaking his head, "You were subjected to the staff as much as I, if I am to take a break, then you are too."

He couldn't argue with that logic. They had been physically active since they'd arrived. That, and arguing with Zane was something he wouldn't win. 

So he relented, but that wasn't hard to do. Without the battering of the snow, the adrenaline rush due to being attacked by a giant bird, or the power of the Forbidden Scroll flowing through his system. 

For the first time that day he realised he was cold, exhausted, and in pain. 

Cole gingerly brought a hand up to the side of his head and ran his fingers lightly over a welt that had formed. He must have really hit his head when he'd landed. 

He backed up against the wall and slid down it till he was situated on the ground. 

Zane was prompt to join him.

"You're hurt." He observed, his words slow and punctuating. 

Cole just waved his hand, "Not much that can be done about it. I'll sleep it off tonight, see how I am in the morning."

"I am not able to scan your circumstances, but if you have a concussion, I would recommend not sleeping." 

"I don't think I'd be able to keep awake all night, Frosty." He said, forcing a jovial jibe into his voice. At least as a way to lighten the mood.

Since now they both had time to think, time to sit down where neither of them were freezing cold or getting frustrated at a task, or frying his circuits trying to make his powers function. 

They could pause, and just take in the day. 

Cole was contemplating that if they were going to be rescued, it would have happened before now. That if their brothers were going to show up in a completely different realm - a fact of which Cole was entirely sure about now; if the exotic and downright lethal wildlife was anything to go by - they would have come already. 

And they would both already be home, and warm, and safe. 

Not stranded. 

"I can see you thinking." Zane whispered after a moment, even though there was no reason to keep his voice low. It was just that the silence that had settled was nice, companionable, and Cole found himself whispering back. 

"We're stuck, aren't we?" 

They lapsed into silence again, until, 

"I believe so."

Cole let his head rock backwards until it came into contact with the rocky wall. His eyes slipped closed for a second. 

He was going to keep his head on straight and be logical, he was not going to freak out even though the situation vastly warranted it from either of them. 

They were trapped in a different realm, a frozen realm, the only life they'd seen so far had tried to kill them. They'd barely been able to move the mech to a safe space but the longer Cole thought about it, the more he realised that with all the broken and ruined circuits he'd seen when dismantling the metal plating earlier; it wasn't going to run. They wouldn't get it working with what they had, not easily. 

A few tools and their own knowledge, this would take time. 

It was still worth trying, though. It wasn't like they could really do much else. 

Cole shifted around where he was sitting, until he was at an angle, slightly facing his brother. "I'm glad I'm here, though." He said, shrugged even.

Zane just returned the statement with a puzzled look, "Why in all of Ninjago, would you be glad to be here of all places?" He tilted his head, "It is desolate. Cold. You're not like me, you aren't immune to the element's effects."

I was, he thought. I was when we shared the power of the scroll, our powers. 

He cleared his throat, "What you did was the right thing, protecting Sensei Wu. Getting in the way, it's what I would have done." Cole let out a sudden laugh at the realisation, "I'm the one who got caught up in the crossfire. If I hadn't gone for you when I knew that you were going to be hit, I'd still be at home."

Cole could see the beginnings of a question forming, how his apparent regrets at trying to save Zane from an unknown fate even related to being glad that he was in a frozen wasteland. The answer was simple. 

He put the question to a stop with, "I'm glad I'm here with you. That I got banished with you." He spread his hands, as if it was obvious, before wrapping them around his knees. Whether it was to conserve warmth or for comfort, he wasn’t sure.

"Because even though we're here, in this cave, and we're waiting on a rescue party, I know that you're alive. That this time, I know for certain that you're okay." 

Which was the truth, the solid truth. One too many times had he been left in limbo, not knowing if his brother, one of his longest friends was okay. Was alive. This time he literally followed him into the unknown. He'd do it again, never mind the consequences, the result of his actions. He'd been of the mindset that anything Aspheera's magic hit was destroyed. The mech, he'd thought that was as good as gone when he'd watched it dissolve out of existence. 

In his attempt to help Zane, he hadn't thought twice. 

"You're happy you're here, because you're with me?" Zane asked after a second to take in the information, as if that reasoning wasn't obvious. 

"Yep."

"And you'd rather be cold, and tired, and hurt; but with me, as opposed to being warm at home?"

Wasn't the answer obvious? "Yes. Because if I was at home in the Monastery, and I'd just seen you zapped by Aspheera's staff, then my first thought would be that you were dead again."

Again. Zane had died enough that it could be quantified. 

Whenever something happened, whenever a member of the team was waylaid, or actually gone, the team fell apart. They functioned as a unit, and to be missing a member was like missing an arm, or an eye. Sure, maybe you could function slightly, but it would never be the same as before. 

"I can assure you, I am not dead."

Cole chuckled and nodded, patting Zane's knee in acknowledgement. "I know. I know you're not dead."

I know you're not dead because you're right in front of me. I know you're not dead because this time I didn't let you face the final blow alone. I'm looking at you and you're alive. 

Then suddenly, something dawned on him that made his heart practically stutter, and his mind near enough stop. 

"I know you're alive because you're in front of me." Cole mumbled. 

Zane watched the scene in front of him, the way Cole had frozen, the way his fingers had so suddenly tightened where they were situated. One where his arm remained wrapped around his leg, the other on Zane's knee. He didn't make a move to even change position, Zane simply lifted a hand and tapped Cole's wrist to get his attention. 

To snap him back from whatever he'd just fallen into. To at least wipe the look of dawning despair on his face. 

What had just happened? 

"I'm alive, Cole, are you okay?" Zane said, finally breaking out of his stupor and moving until he was knelt in front of the leader, dropping his head to try and catch his eye. "I'm alive."

"But… We'd thought that Aspheera's staff destroyed what it hit." 

Zane knew that, he nodded, "We did. But it didn't, we survived. We were wrong." and he said that as if it was a great thing. It was, but it also meant something bad. Something the Earth ninja was trying to get out. 

"But I know that. You know that." Cole pointed a finger between him and Zane. 

"Yes, but what-- oh."

Oh. 

"They--" Cole let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't freaking out, he wasn't, he'd just come to a possibly dooming conclusion. 

"They don't know that we're alive."

In their shock, their realisation, neither of them noticed the shadow of a man lurking just outside the mouth of the cave.

-

From the beginning

Ch 03 > Ch 04 > Ch 05

Cross-posted to AO3

[babycracker]

Echoes In The Forest - Chapter 7

None of Unit Bravo know what to expect when they're sent overseas for a mission. Surprises await them in the Black Forest, but perhaps Adam stands to find out more about himself than he's ever bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Female Detective/Adam, Female Detective/Mason Word Count: ~3k Warnings: Smut-ish at the end

You can find this chapter on AO3 here. Start from the beginning here.

--

The sun has barely risen high enough to bring any real light down to the ground when a shuffling at the entrance of the tent wakes Jordan up. She's tired, and sore, and miserable. Usually a fairly heavy sleeper, tossing and turning and being startled awake by every little noise after the events of last night have taken their toll on her. She's never been so grateful to have not much to do.

Mason flops down beside her, the breath he huffs out blowing the hair on his face into the air above him.

"Break?"

"Break."

He answers shortly, both of them quietly staring at the roof of the tent for a moment before simultaneously looking at each other.

"You alright?"

His question surprises her; it's no secret to anyone that he doesn't particularly care about her.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugs and looks away from her again.

“It’s been a weird week.”

“Yeah I guess.”

They both fall silent for a long while again, and Jordan’s half waiting for him to make a move, trying to decide whether or not she’s willing to go along with it if he does. But when he doesn’t after a while she sits up and starts getting dressed, noticing that his eyes linger on her legs before she pulls her jeans up over them, yet he still doesn’t move to touch her.

The uncharacteristic behaviour might bother her normally, but given how different everyone’s been acting for the past few days, she reasons that it would probably be weirder if he was acting like his normal self. It’s probably for the best anyway she thinks as she finishes pulling her jacket on, deciding that for probably the same reason that had put her off last time - whatever that reason is - she probably wouldn’t have been willing to go along with it after all.

--

Mason watches her go, a small frown settling on his face. It’s all starting to make sense to him now. Adam’s fear, his heart speeding up just enough to be noticeable whenever Jordan’s around, not to mention he can just about feel the concern and sadness pouring out of Nate whenever he’s nearby. It’s unbelievable; literally, Mason is struggling to believe it even though the signs are glaringly obvious now that he’s stopped for long enough to notice them.

Adam has feelings for her.

In all the time Mason’s known their leader, he’s never known him to act the way he does around Jordan. Never has he been so afraid for someone else’s safety, never has he so willingly doted on a person’s protection and well being as he has been on Jordan’s all day. He’s never seen his eyes soften the way they sometimes do when she doesn’t know he’s watching her.

He racks his brain for a different explanation, because the idea of Adam having feelings for a human woman sounds ridiculous, but he can’t think of anything else that lines up.

He’s done with Jordan, he knows it in the very back of his mind. If there’s any chance that Adam has real feelings for her, if there’s even a remote chance of Jordan returning those feelings, he knows he needs to be done. Just the mere thought of him casually sleeping with someone that his friend and leader cares for makes him sick to the stomach and had put him off of making a move this morning. He only hopes that whatever feelings Adam has, they are new. He hopes that Adam hasn’t spent the past few months having to watch him and Jordan together.

--

Adam's nose wrinkles as he walks past the tent and hears a hushed conversation between Mason and Jordan, assuming that they’re just starting something that he’d rather not think about. He's on the verge of giving up, his lectures are evidently falling on deaf ears. He supposes he will just have to learn to deal with it.

But he doesn't want to deal with it. In fact, now that he's heard them in the act more than once, his skin almost crawls at the thought of her being touched in such a way by someone not emotionally invested in her, and he doesn't understand why. He tries to do away with the sensation by telling himself that perhaps Mason feels more for her than he lets on, but somehow that's almost just as bad.

He shifts his attention to Felix, pacing up and down at the edge of the clearing they've set up camp in, deliberately forcing his thoughts to focus on the young vampire. Once again he doesn't seem himself, his hands are clasped together in front of him, fingers fidgeting nervously. Adam can't help but feel for him. How great the burden must be to someone unused to it, to be the only one among them remotely capable of leading this mission. He imagines he probably feels as lost as Adam himself does, knowing that he is virtually powerless against an enemy he cannot even see.

Nate steps up beside him and they stand quietly together for a moment before movement from the tent catches Adam’s attention, and to his surprise Jordan is stumbling out in her usual early morning clumsy way. Perhaps she and Mason had not been about to do what he’d thought they were. He lets out a quiet and relieved sigh, and then tenses when he remembers Nate standing beside him.

"You know I don't like to pry in your personal matters, Adam."

Nate begins and Adam turns to face him, a small smile playing on his lips.

"And yet that is exactly what you're about to do."

Nate smiles, but the expression quickly fades before he subtly jerks his head towards the tent.

"Jordan."

"What about her?"

Nate sighs, almost in exasperation, something Adam has not often seen in the years he's known him.

"Do you think I haven't noticed the way your heart speeds up when she's near? The way you look at her? The way you struggle to keep your composure while witnessing her and Mason?"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"We have known each other for a long time, old friend."

“A very long time, yes.”

“I’m a touch insulted that you don’t believe that I know you well enough to be able to see the reactions she provokes in you, or what they mean.”

Adam doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s true that Nate knows him better than anyone else, but he had thought his reactions had been small and insignificant enough to remain unnoticed.

“Whatever reaction you think she causes in me is irrelevant.”

He answers finally, and Nate rests a hand on his shoulder with another sigh, this one sad.

“The change it’s causing in you is entirely relevant. To all of us, but especially to her.”

Adam looks around them for a moment and notices that Jordan has gone, and his heart clenches painfully in his chest when he realises that she’s more than likely gone back into the tent with Mason. He’s suddenly aware that he’s proving Nate’s point entirely so he shakes it off and glances back at him.

“Even if what you are saying was true, what would you suggest I do about it?”

Nate gives him a soft smile, recognising that he isn’t asking a rhetorical question, rather subtly asking for advice.

“I would suggest that you speak with her.”

Adam nods dismissively and Nate’s hand slides off of his shoulder.

“You deserve happiness as much as the rest of us, Adam. And if Jordan is the person you can find it with, then you owe it to yourself to tell her how you feel.”

Adam raises an eyebrow and Nate gives a small shrug.

“Or how you don’t feel.”

He adds, an attempt at pacifying whatever defensive reaction Adam might have to him bluntly stating that there are feelings to be admitted. He walks away after a moment when it becomes obvious that Adam isn't about to respond, leaving him to his thoughts and hoping that he can bring himself to realise that feeling something for someone is not the weakness that he seems to think it is.

Neither of them have noticed Jordan standing a few feet away from them, close enough to catch a few very revealing parts of their conversation.

--

She wishes she could say that she takes what she overheard with a grain of salt, that she was able to brush off the possibility of Adam having, what? A crush on her? It’s absurd just to think about. So she tries not to think about it. She really, really tries. But her mind keeps wandering back to the snippet of conversation that she’d heard - something about Jordan being the person who could make Adam happy.

She stays away from him, carefully and obviously. She's imagining what she'd heard, she has to be. There's no way Adam du Mortain has any feeling other than contempt for her. She watches him from a distance as he disappears into the tent for his break and groans inwardly when she sees Nate's eyes dart between them. She knows what's coming.

Sure enough, once he's waited a few minutes to make sure Adam's not coming back out, Nate walks over to her. She debates quickly with herself about whether or not to let him know that she overheard part of their conversation, but almost immediately dismisses the idea as he approaches.

"How are you feeling?"

He asks casually, but she sees straight through it.

"Fine."

He frowns at her short answer before shifting a little closer to her.

"I would like to speak with you."

"About?"

"Mason."

Well, that was unexpected.

She gives him a nod and plonks down cross-legged on the ground, raising an eyebrow up at Nate who inspects the ground for a moment and then crouches down beside her, his elbows resting on his knees.

“So what’s up, Natey?”

She grins at him as she uses Felix’s nickname for him, trying to lighten the mood for herself after getting herself worked up over the fact that Nate might have been about to tell her something about Adam.

“I know that the subject of you and Mason has been a source of conflict between you and Adam.”

“Yes?”

“I’m afraid I agree with him.”

She looks over at him in surprise, and then frowns.

“With Adam?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“Perhaps not.”

She sighs to his surprise and nods, seemingly to herself more than anything.

“I’ve not really been feeling it with him since we’ve been here.”

She’s staring at a small sapling poking up out of the dark dirt in front of her and doesn’t notice the small smile that appears on Nate’s face in response to her admission.

“Oh? Why is that?”

He presses and she glances over at him, furrowing her brow.

“I don’t know.”

Nate’s satisfied with the conversation, whatever her reasons. He could never bring himself to tell Jordan the whole truth, and even if he did he knew that Adam would never forgive him. Jordan deciding for herself that she didn’t want to continue her relationship with Mason had made this part easy. Now he just wonders how long it will take Adam to realise his feelings and do something about them.

--

Adam has spent the day effectively avoiding the Detective. Luckily it seems as though she is doing the same thing, and though he doesn’t know why, he’s grateful as it’s made it infinitely easier on him. His conversation with Nate had made him beyond uncomfortable, and he knew that being near to her would only make it worse. Nate’s already suspicious of the way he feels about her, and despite what he had been willing to admit during their conversation earlier, he is well aware himself of the involuntary reactions his body throws out when she’s close.

He’s not sure whether he’s relieved when darkness starts to fall and he knows that Jordan will be retreating to the tent shortly, or whether he dreads it because he knows already that he’s not going to be willing to leave her. He briefly considers leaving Felix or Nate near to the tent to keep watch over her for the night, but the thought of being far from her when something is likely to happen to her makes his stomach churn uncomfortably.

"Someone needs to remain close to the tent to ensure the Detective does not get away."

He announces vaguely, hoping that someone else gives him an out and offers to watch her. He waits for a response, but the rest of Unit Bravo just look back at him before Felix shrugs.

"You did better at stopping her than me and Mason."

"Mason and I."

Nate corrects absentmindedly, and Felix rolls his eyes at him. Realisation dawns on Nate's face and he gives a single yet enthusiastic nod.

"I agree it should be Adam."

He fights the urge to glare at Nate; he knows exactly what he’s doing and he’s decidedly unhappy with it. Before he can offer an alternate choice and explanation they all start wandering away to their respective sentry points, seemingly happy with the decision that he feels has been made without him. He’s losing control and he doesn’t like it, and he finds himself blaming Jordan and her effect on him.

He releases a heavy sigh, resigned to his fate and clasps his hands behind his back, trying to ignore the shuffling sounds coming from inside the tent, trying to keep the images of what Jordan might be doing in there out of his head. He’s unsuccessful though and with every movement that he hears her make he pictures her fidgeting relentlessly as she tries to get comfortable enough to sleep. It’s infuriating. She simply never stops moving. He clasps his hands together more tightly when the noise stops and he knows that she’s abruptly fallen asleep. Again, infuriating. She is an extremely heavy sleeper, he knows from the few nights he and Nate spent in the tent with her.

She squirms endlessly, making it impossible for anybody unfortunate enough to be close to her while she’s falling asleep to get any rest, and then she’s impossible to awaken. What would happen if something happened during the night and they required her assistance? The knowledge that the alarm on her mobile phone succeeds in waking her up baffles him.

He can still picture her, probably sprawled out on her stomach, probably taking up her sleeping space and half of the two on either side of her. Nate’s wrong about the feelings he assumes Adam has - he has to be. She is irritating, and strangely self-assured for no reason. She is a human. If Adam were to ever fall for a human, it would have to be one more remarkable than the one in the tent behind him. The one he can see in his mind as he continues to picture the way she looks when she sleeps until Felix shouting from the other side of the clearing snaps his attention quickly away from the pictures in his mind.

“Mason! There! Do you see him?”

Adam takes a small step away from the tent, but then hesitates. If the supernatural supposedly after Jordan is around, it would probably be unwise for him to step too far away from her- from the tent.

He listens carefully, Mason’s hurried footsteps coming to a stop and Adam holds his breath in wait of his reaction. He lets it out in disappointment when he hears it.

“I can’t see anyone.”

He sounds as defeated as Adam feels, and it brings to light the issue that’s been plaguing him since Felix’s first encounter with the Erlking. How can he be of any use to the rest of his team if he’s unable to even see the thing they are up against?

--

Go to sleep. You have four literal vampires standing guard, just go to sleep.

No matter how many times Jordan repeats it to herself, it doesn't work. She wants to be restless because of Erlking. She wants to be freaking out over it, but as much as she tries to convince herself that she's scared, she knows that she isn't. She trusts the four men outside with her life - literally - and as far as the mission goes she feels relatively calm.

She's restless because of Adam, caught somewhere between wanting to march out and lead him back into the tent with her and wanting to march out and slap him across the face. Or possibly both. She can't remember ever feeling this confused before. She's outraged at the possibility that Adam's been hiding this and being so… Adam towards her. She's angry, but at the same time she finds that her mind keeps wandering.

She tries to imagine what it would feel like to reach for him and not have him pull away. She tries to picture what it would be like to make him laugh (were that even a possibility) or what they'd do with their time together if they ever spent any time together outside of a mission.

Her cheeks flush as she tries to picture what it would be like to sleep with him. She wonders what it would take to make him relax, to get him excited. Her eyes fall closed to help create the image and she barely even registers one hand slowly making its way down her body until she touches herself, the small sigh she lets out jerking her out of her imagination and making her quickly pull her hand away.

"What the fuck?"

She groans under her breath, rolling onto her side and curling into a ball. No fucking way does she like Adam. Maybe it’s a good thing that she hasn’t spoken to Mason about not continuing with their arrangement anymore, maybe he has been good for her. Maybe he was what was keeping her from realising that- shit.

She has feelings for her Commanding Agent.

--

Tags: @admdmrtn @mmerengue @adamdumorpain @masonsfangs @oxjenayxo @bravomckenzie Thanks for reading! Let me know if you’d like to be removed from/added to the tag list!

[klymilark]

Sore: Chapter 2

First Chapter

CW: Swearing, mentions of sexual assault

Word count: 1872

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Kaye woke up from her slumber in a sweat.  She’s always had nightmares when moving, but it seems like a new method of torture has been introduced into her brain.  One specifically related to this move. She calms herself down, and heads to the kitchen to put coffee on. Once the coffee’s done, she goes out to the back patio to have a cigarette.  She’s been trying to quit, and has been mostly successful.  Dreams like that, however, just fuck with her in quite a few ways, so she keeps a pack around.  After her cigarette is done, Amie walks outside, and sits near her.

“Bad night?” Amie asks

“Yeah.  Wasn’t worse than anything you’ve heard, but definitely a new one.” Kaye responds.

“Ahh, that’s not good.” Amie says.

“You’re telling me. Although, I do still feel like I’ve slept, so that’s a plus.” Kaye says with a moderate tone of sarcasm.

“You always do.  Excited to see the condo?” Amie asks, switching the subject.

“Yes!  The fact that I can afford to buy is wonderful, too.  Gonna be nice to be able to rip the carpet up instead of just having to deal with it.”  Kaye says, bouncing up and down lightly.

“Woah.  Did you just act excited?!  Who are you, and what have you done with my Kaye?”  Amie asks, genuinely shocked at the display of excitement.  In all of the years they’ve known each other, Amie has not once known Kaye to show any kind of emotion beyond neutral.

“Huh.  I guess so?  This is weird.” Kaye responds, also genuinely confused at her willingness to show the emotions.  That’s something she’s always struggled with.

Amie giggles and says, “Maybe it’s the dress.”

Kaye looks down, and realizes that she is still wearing the dress she went to bed with last night.  Her face then proceeds to turn several shades of red, and you could swear a few shades of purple mixed in at some points. Amie points this out through a very poorly hidden laugh, which only serves to make the problem worse.  After another 20 minutes or so of Amie poking fun at Kaye for showing emotion for the first time, Don steps out.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Don asks Kaye.

“Oh, yeah.  Let me change into something more appropriate for heavy lifting.  I’ll be ready in ten minutes tops.”  Kaye responds, downing her coffee.

“No need to rush, I was just asking.” Don says.

Kaye runs out to the truck, and grabs a pair of canvas pants, and a flannel shirt.  For some reason, they don’t seem to fit quite as well today as they did a few days ago.  Must just be the trip.  Kaye then runs up to the box truck, and gets in.  As she waits for Don to get in his car, Amie starts knocking on her driver side window.  Kaye opens the door.

“I think you forgot something” Amie says, holding the dress out.

“No, it’s yo-” Kaye starts.

“Take it.  It’s yours. You love it, and you definitely need it more than I do.” Amie says, cutting her off.

“But-” Kaye starts.

“No.  Buts.  It’s yours.” Amie says.

Kaye grabs the dress through the window, and puts it in the passenger seat.  She then jumps down from her seat, and hugs Amie as tight as she can.  This girl has been nothing but wonderful to her, and it’s about time she starts showing some appreciation for it.  As the hug stops, Amie smiles.  Don comes out, they get in their cars, and leave.  Amie stayed behind, because she had some cleaning to do.

They pulled up to Kaye’s condo.  It was a first floor unit, which she picked out primarily for the fairly easy sound proofing she could do.  She didn’t plan to get very loud, but you never know where life will take you.  Doubly so when everything is about to change.

Before they start moving anything, they decide to walk in to tour the place.  Kaye hadn’t seen the place, and she’d been trusting Amie’s word about how well it would fit.  From what Amie said, it would be darn near perfect.  The living room was large enough that her computer could fit in the corner without obstructing too much of the room, and it had a connected half bathroom.  The master bedroom was large enough to fit a four poster bed, which wasn’t there yet, but would be one day.  The master bathroom had a corner tub that could definitely fit Kaye’s height, as well as a separate stall shower.  Finally, the spare bedroom would definitely fit all of the various implements and furniture Kaye planned.  It was perfect!

Kaye and Don began unpacking.  She didn’t have much, so it only took a solid hour. Kaye moved most of the boxes to the rooms the contents had belonged in, as did Don.

“Hey, Kaye, where do the boxes that just have a D on them go?” Don asked

“Oh, just throw them in the spare bedroom.  I’ll have to unpack everything there, since I’m gonna be kind of particular about where everything goes.” Kaye responded.

“Alright!” Don said.

As Don said that, though, the box he was carrying burst through the bottom.  What looked like a set of mountain climbing gear, plus a few other odds and ends came crashing to the floor.  Don’s focus shifted to one item in particular, though.  Settled near the top of the pile were a pair of very fuzzy white cat ears.  They had barrettes on them for attaching to the head, bells, and ribbons on them.  Don giggled a bit to himself, which drew Kaye’s attention to the mess.

“Whatcha doin’?” Kaye asks, leaning into the bedroom from the hallway.

As she stood there, her mind started racing.  Don didn’t know what she liked to do in her spare time, and this wasn’t the way she was hoping he’d find out. It’d be one thing if Amie told him, but this?!  Almost 500 feet of rope falling on the floor with cat ears smack on top.  Right in plain view.  How is she going to cover this up?  She really doesn’t feel up to the conversation right now, and she’d rather not have to go through with it until way later.  Shit shit shit!  Shit!

“What’s all of this for?” Don said.

Kaye, trying her best to maintain her composure externally, and doing a remarkable job given the night she had, and the amount of heavy shit was just moved.

“I… was in theater in college.”  Kaye said.

“I didn’t know your college had a theater program.” Don responds, puzzled.

“They don’t!  It was a local thing for college-aged kids.” Kaye says, grasping for straws

“Interesting,“ Don says, contemplating whether to believe this story or not, “You’ll have to show me a video at some point.”

“They didn’t really allow video recording a lot of the time, and I wasn’t in it for that long.” Kaye says, realizing that her story sounds less and less plausible, “Plus I mostly did lighting work.  I only had one on-stage performance.”

Really?  That’s the best she could come up with?  He’s gonna know.

“That’s too bad, but not too surprising.  You were always better with technical stuff than the arts.” Don says.

How the hell did he buy that?  That was the single stupidest excuse Kaye had ever heard from anyone, much less said.  She guesses that her friend just trusts her, or at least understands that this is a part of herself she isn’t quite ready to share yet.  

“So, that looks like all of it’s sorted.  Want to grab a few chairs?” Don asks.

“S-sure.  I’ll grab the mead.” Kaye responds.

She goes into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of the mead she brought with her.  It was a dry one that had been aged for about a year before being shipped across the country in the back of a box truck in a fairly big hurry.  While she was doing that, Don texted Amie and asked if she wanted to join them.  She didn’t, as she was just settling in for the afternoon. That was code for the bra came off, it’s not going back on, and I’m not leaving the house without it.

“Oh well, looks like it’s just us.” Don says, not too upset.

“From what she said, it seems that you two have been seeing a lot of each other lately.” Kaye says.

“Yeah.  She just quit her job, but she’s looking for another.  Last one got a bit too crazy for her to want to deal with anymore.  Thankfully she should have one soon, since she’s a damn good worker, and she has a good reference with her previous company.” Don says

“Does she?” Kaye asks.

“Yeah.  Her direct manager was awesome, it was everyone above him that was bad.” Don responds.

“I definitely know how that feels.” Kaye says, looking down slightly.

“Yeah.  Sorry for that, but it’ll hopefully get at least a little better here.” Don responds, rubbing her back.

“Thanks.” Kaye says.

“So, how’d you afford this place, anyway?  Seems like it’d be out of your pay range.” Don says, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

“One of my previous employers.  They did some particularly heinous shit, and I managed to find a lawyer willing to represent it.  I didn’t win all that much, comparatively, but it was enough to afford this place.  Should be able to get a scrap car while I’m here, too.  Outside of that, since the place is paid off, I don’t have to worry about that much. Should be able to afford it working part time, honestly.” Kaye says.

“Ahh, wish I could say the same.” Don says.

“Yeah, I wish I couldn’t, given what I went through with that place.  It’s gonna take a while to get over that.” Kaye responds.

“That’s fair.  I remember how hard it got for you.” Don responds, “I don’t see why places can’t get over that, it’s not even that b-”

“Everyone thinks I’m a rapist is why they can’t get over it.  When someone looks at you and sees nothing but an absolute degenerate, nobody wants to keep you around.  I’m honestly shocked you and Amie did, all things considered.” Kaye responds, a little annoyed.

“Honestly, things would be weird without you texting one of us at random times to vent about something.  It’s been weird to not have you randomly knock on our doors to hang out and calm down.” Don says with a chuckle.

“Hopefully that’ll start again.  I was happiest in those moments.  I felt like I was home for the first time.” Kaye responds with tears welling up in her eyes.

“Well, welcome home.” Don says, arms outstretched.

Kaye hugs him as tightly as she can, and they stay like that for a few minutes.  She cries quite a bit, but he just stands there, just like he always has.  He’s been one of the few constants to her life, and she’s very thankful for that.

“So,” Kaye says, breaking off from him, “did you want to grab a game out?”

“Sure.” Don replies.

Chapter 3

Search sbbl on my blog to find the rest of the chapters, as well!

[xfandomwritingsx]

Bad Girl Lately Part 1 – Bucky Barnes

(gif source)

Description: After a dirty dream, you can’t stop thinking about Bucky.

Warnings/Labels: Language, mentions of dirty stuff but no full smut yet, mentions of nightmares.

Approx. Word Count: 7,000 (this was originally going to be a one-shot but holy shit, that would have been the longest one-shot I’ve ever done, so it’s going to be a two-shot instead)

A/N: First time writing Bucky so cut me some slack. I also basically shoved what should have been a slow burn story into this two parter, so expect some glazing over of some details and some telling instead of showing. Inspiration for this came from the song You by Naomi August and THIS imagine, even though it doesn’t come in until the second part.

“C’mon, doll. What do you want?” his voice is low, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. The weight of his body presses you into the mattress and you can feel him grinding against you, your legs already wrapped around his waist. His teeth nip gently at your ear. “Need to hear you say it, doll.”

You open your mouth to answer him, to tell him exactly what you want him to do, but all that comes out is a strangled moan. You grip at his back, feel your nails rake down his skin before locking your ankles at his waist and pulling your bottom half up to rock against him.

You’re not entirely sure where either of your clothes have gone, but you’re wet and you slide easily along his hard cock. Your core is aching and all you want is to feel him fill you up. God, he feels so good.

“Please,” you beg, voice dry and cracking. He chuckles into your neck, shifting his hips so no matter how you try to angle yourself, he won’t slide into you.

“Please what?” he teases. Your hands slip up to his shoulders and into his hair.

“Please fuck me, Bucky.” He lifts his head up and it’s the first time you really see him, his lips smirking down at you, face red, and eyes lustful. Three things suddenly happen at once. His lips crash down onto yours, he thrusts into you, and you open your eyes.

You’re met with only darkness and the echo of your broken moan. You’re hot, body slick with sweat and hands gripping at your bedsheets. It takes you nearly thirty seconds for you to get your bearings and fully realize you had been dreaming. Your heart is thudding with leftover excitement and you can still feel that ache between your legs.

“What the hell?” you whisper to yourself, wiping a hand over your face. You twist your body in your bed, trying to shake it off. Your thin t-shirt sticks to your skin and when you roll over, the cold air hits you making you shiver.

It’s not like you haven’t had sexy dreams before. You’ve definitely had your fair share, but they hadn’t been that vivid before and more than that, they’ve never starred Bucky Barnes before. You try to stop thinking about it, the craving feeling of needing to be touched slowly fading from your body as you close your eyes and settle back into your bed comfortably.

When morning rolls around, your body is still buzzing, still excited, and there’s a distinct dissatisfaction filling you. You groan as you roll yourself out of bed. You push back all thoughts of your dream and slip some sweatpants on to leave your room and get yourself breakfast.

It’s still early. You tend to be one of the first one’s awake in the tower anymore. Something you can actually blame Bucky for. After Steve had moved him into the tower, you two had formed a friendship. It had been timid and fragile at first, only simple greetings and small conversations in common spaces. You were a little weary of him at first, as was most everyone else, but you tried to reserve judgement and got to know him little by little. He never said it, but you think he appreciated your welcome no matter how skeptical and he didn’t seem to mind the conversation and company.

There had been one night where you couldn’t sleep. You just had a lot on your mind and your body was restless, unable to settle down. So instead of tossing and turning, you chose to leave your room and wander the tower. It only slightly surprised you when you found Bucky in one of the upper sitting rooms staring out one of the floor to ceiling windows.

“Hey you,” you called out softly, careful not to startle him.

“Little late for you to be up, isn’t it?” He looked at you only briefly, but you saw the tiredness in his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you told him, plopping yourself down on one of the couches. You figured if he didn’t want the company, he’d leave himself or just tell you. “I take it you can’t sleep either?” He stiffened a little and you wondered if maybe you overstepped.

“More like I don’t want to,” he answered, not taking his gaze from the window. You were happy to leave it at that and move on or even just sit in silence, but he surprised you by speaking again. “Rather be awake than have the nightmares.” It was no secret that Bucky had bad nightmares, hell, most people in the tower had nightmares about one thing or another, but Bucky’s were a touchy subject. It was one of those things everyone knew about, but didn’t talk about.

“Do you have them every night?” You watched him carefully, waiting for any signs that your prying was not welcome or that he wasn’t going to answer. Instead though, he opened up to you that night.

He didn’t share much about what the nightmares consisted of, but he told you about their frequency and the things that made them just a little better. He ended up joining you on the couch and to lighten things up, you had thrown your legs over his lap. He raised an eyebrow at you, but didn’t show any displeasure.

“Does it help if someone wakes you up?” you asked, wiggling a little to get more comfortable.

“It would, but no one does.” He put his hands on your shins to still you. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table, silently enjoying that Stark wasn’t there to scold him for it. “Probably for the better anyways. Who knows how I would react. With my luck, I’d hurt them.” You watched him tense his metal hand, crunch it into a fist and release it. You nudge him with your foot, taking his focus off of it.

“I kicked Tony in the stomach once when he woke me after a mission,” you shared, trying to keep the mood light, afraid he was going to suddenly withdraw and bolt otherwise. You both chuckled a little.

“He probably deserved it.” His metal hand settled back down on your leg and it was somewhere around then that your eyes got heavy again. The conversation wound down and both of you ended up falling asleep on the couch.

It was only a few nights later when you were walking past his room and heard him tossing. There were groans and cries and small ground out words that made it clear he was having a nightmare. You stood outside his door for a moment, contemplating what you wanted to do. You knew he was right, there was a good chance if you went to wake him up, he’d wake up swinging and attacking. But you quickly realized you couldn’t just let him keep going like that.

So, you entered slowly, for once making as much noise as you can, trying to alert him and wake him. It didn’t work though. You could see him in the dark, twisting underneath his sheets. There was a pillow at the end of his bed and you made a quick decision, picked it up, and threw it at his face. He startled awake, sitting straight up with his fists balled, throwing himself at an unseen threat.

“Bucky, it’s me,” you called to him from the edge of the bed. He was breathing heavy, sweat covering his face.

“Christ,” he cursed, squinting his eyes in the dark. “What are you doing?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you said it as though that explained everything. He ran his hands through his hair. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It was a lie and you both knew it. That night you sat with him on his bed, leaning back on the headboard, arms pressed against each other until you both fell asleep.

It became a pattern, your own little ritual. You’d wake him from his nightmares when you were awake yourself, usually by throwing pillows and keeping your distance. You’d stay up and talk to each other some before falling asleep in his bed. Your body adjusted to waking up in the middle of the night and it wasn’t long before you woke up out of habit and even if he wasn’t having a nightmare, you found yourself waking him and coming into his bed.

It was never anything more than platonic, two friends just taking comfort in each other. You both found you slept much better on the nights you were together. Bucky started waking up before the sun rose each morning, having slept so solidly with you next to him that he didn’t need to sleep any longer. He tried to be quiet and subtle, but you woke every time he got up.

Just like waking up in the night, your body adjusted to waking up early. Now, no matter what time you go to sleep, whether you’re in Bucky’s room or your own, you wake up earlier than normal people ever do.

---

You’ve managed to wash away most of your dream by the time you make it to the kitchen. If you didn’t think about it, you could feel the details of it fading from your memory like dreams usually do. You’ve cooked nearly half of your pancake batter when you hear someone walk in.

“Something smells good.” Bucky’s voice is hoarse, not quite fully awake yet. He sits himself down at the kitchen counter, rubbing his face. “Although I’m starting to think pancakes are the only thing you can make,” he teases. You throw a fake glare over your shoulder.

“Keep up that talk and you won’t get any.” You slip a few pancakes onto a plate you’ve already grabbed from the cabinet. “Maybe you should start making breakfast.” You spin around to hand him the plate and it feels like your breath has been taken from your chest.

He’s looking up at you no differently than he ever has, but your mind flashes back to the face from your dream and it’s all you can see. It’s so crystal clear that he might as well be looking at you like that right now; eyes staring at you with pure lust and heat, an animalist need reflected in his features, teasing and testing you, making your knees weak.

“You okay, doll?” he breaks your thoughts, the friendly term of endearment suddenly making you hot. You realize you’d stopped awkwardly, plate of pancakes hovering in your hand, your eyes simultaneously looking at him and staring at nothing but a picture in your mind.

“Yeah,” you shake your head. “Just not awake yet, I guess.” You finish handing him the plate before quickly turning back to the stove, partly to flip the pancakes and partly so you’d stop looking at him.

“Sleep alright?” he asks as he starts to eat. You nod, exaggerating the motion to make sure he sees it even with your back turned.

“Yeah. Had an… interesting dream, but slept well overall.” You put your spatula down and turn your head to look at him. “Did you sleep okay?” It isn’t unusual for you to spend a full night in your own room, but you always feel bad if he ends up with nightmares on those nights.

“Like a rock.” You can’t quite tell if he’s telling the truth or feeding you a white lie to spare you. He flashes you a smile and for the first time ever, you feel the beginning of a blush spread over your face.

Stop that. You scold yourself internally, turning once more back to the stove. This was silly. There was no reason for you to start going all soft and shy just because of a stupid sex dream. It’s just Bucky! Your friend!

You focus your attention on your cooking, the batch you’re working on threatening to burn if you keep letting your mind wander. You hear Bucky stand up and walk over to you, but you keep your eyes on the stove. It startles you when you feel him behind you.

He puts his metal hand on your shoulder, the coolness of it slipping through the fabric of your shirt and creeping into your skin. He presses himself against your back and your heart starts beating faster. You can feel his chest pushing against your other shoulder, can see his face in your peripheral vision coming closer to your cheek.

Parts of your body start to tingle; from your shoulder where his cold hand is still holding you, fingertips dipping towards your collarbone, from your stomach which suddenly feels like it has butterflies, from your face where that blush has come on in full burn. You repress a shiver and shift your eyes to watch him.

His other arm extends past you, reaching out to the bottle of syrup sitting next to the bowl of batter and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. If you didn’t feel stupid before, you sure did now. What the hell did you think he was doing? Seducing you?

You flash him a smile, trying to hide your embarrassment and hoping the red on your cheeks could be attributed to being over the hot plate. He returns the smile softly, but doesn’t move away just yet. Why is he so damn close?

“I take back what I said earlier,” he says, voice almost a whisper. You can feel his breath fan over you and suddenly you’re extremely self-conscious about your morning breath. Seriously, why is he so damn close?

“What’s that?” you didn’t mean to sound so breathless, but your throat is dry and you’re lucky you can even get words out. Your eyes are drawn to his and you miss the playful look in them, too preoccupied once again with imagining them a completely different way. His eyes dart down and for just a moment, you think he’s looking at your lips.

“Maybe you can’t cook pancakes.”

“What?” Completely dumbfounded, you realize he isn’t watching your mouth but the pancakes beneath you. Your eyes follow and notice them burning, a smoke just starting to rise up. “Shit!” He chuckles besides you, finally shifting back away from you after giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You scramble to attempt to save them, but it’s too late.

“You sure you slept alright?” he laughs at you as he sits back down, syrup in hand, utterly amused by you.

“Oh, shut up,” you laugh back. You toss a dish towel at him and flip the hot plate off. He catches the towel easily and sets it next to his plate. “I’m going to go take a shower.” You don’t care that you haven’t even eaten yet, you need to get away from him, at least until your head is clear.

“Good idea, probably safer than you burning down the kitchen,” he calls after you.

“Ha, ha!” you reply dryly even though you’re still smiling at him. He shifts his attention down to his plate and you pause for a second before leaving the doorway. It’s not like you’d never noticed he was attractive. It’s just that… you never considered that he’s attractive to you. You bite your bottom lip and slip away before your mind goes to a darker, dirtier place.

---

The later it gets into the day, the easier it is to feel back to normal. The ghost of feelings your dreams left you fade off and with everyone else bustling around, there’s a lot more distraction and a lot less alone time with Bucky. Towards the early evening, you and Sam are sitting in front of the TV, Sam blindly flipping through the channels and driving you crazy doing so.

Bucky strolls in and you call out to him, waving your hand to beckon him closer.

“Barnes!” He raises an eyebrow, but follows your call. “Sit down and make Sam pick a damn channel already.”

“It’s not my fault there’s nothing on!” Sam complains, finger almost permanently pressing on the channel up button.

“There’s plenty on,” you argue. “You just don’t see it because it you’re already on the next channel before you can realize it.” Bucky sighs and rolls his eyes. He stalks over to the chair Sam’s seated in and rips the remote from his hand.

“Hey!” Sam cries in protest. Bucky ignores him, walking back over to you and the couch. He sits himself down next to you and flippantly hands you the remote. You happily pluck it from his hand, greatly satisfied with the huffs and grumbles coming out of Sam.

“Thank you!” You smile widely at Bucky who just shakes his head. As you find a show to watch, you can’t help but take notice of how close Bucky is again. You had been sitting on one end of a three-person couch and when he sat down, he didn’t sit on the other end but rather right next to you. You’re not touching, but you can feel his body heat radiating off of him. He leans over, bumping your shoulder with his.

“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you can annoy him enough to get him to leave,” he whispers to you. His breath is warm on your ear and you can feel a little burst of butterflies stir in your stomach. Why does he want Sam gone? Does he want to be alone with you? Knock it off!

“Well that wouldn’t be very nice now, would it?” Your reply is a little delayed, but at least it sounds normal. Bucky shifts away from you with a slight pout.

“You’re no fun,” he playfully chastises. You smile at him and poke your elbow into his side. He settles into the couch, obviously intending on staying for a while.

You hate how tuned in you are to him now, how every little movement and touch is getting over analyzed. When he relaxes and throws his arm on the back of the couch behind your shoulders, like he’s done dozens of times before, suddenly you’re acutely aware of the way his fingers brush your shirt. When you pull your legs up onto the couch to fold them comfortably underneath you, you feel awkward finding your knee resting on his hip even though he doesn’t seem to notice and you can’t count the number of times you’ve been pressed even closer to his side in his bed.

That god damn dream just won’t flutter away. It’s so easy to ignore when you’re not with him. When you were going about your day, you didn’t even give it a second thought. But now every time he touches you or gets close, all you can think about is how badly your body ached and the way he whispered in your ear.

You chock it up to embarrassment, to not wanting him to know about your dream. It’s a paranoia, like he’s going to be able to read your mind or something every time you think about it and since you keep thinking about it every time he touches you, it makes sense you’re getting nervous. It’s still stupid, but at least you have an excuse.

You decide to push past it. It’s not uncommon for dreams to stick with you for a day or even two. Usually it’s more along the lines of a deep pit of dread after a nightmare, but still, it will fade and things will go back to normal. You’re sure of it.

And it almost does. It’s almost a week later and you’re feeling like yourself again, no longer flashing back to the dream anytime Bucky comes near you. No more absurd questions about his intentions float up into your mind. All is going well. Until it’s suddenly very much not anymore.

---

When you creep into Bucky’s room, it’s very clear he’s having another nightmare. You grab the large pillow he now purposely keeps on a desk chair near the bed and throw it at his torso. For the first time ever, it doesn’t wake him. The feeling of anxiety that used to churn in your gut when you first started waking him suddenly comes back.

“Bucky,” you call out futilely. His fists are balled up in the sheet that’ve been twisted around his body, fleshed knuckles ghost white. Strands of hair are stuck to his face as it contorts in pain and anguish. He thrashes and lets out small, strangled cries. “Bucky!” you try again a little louder.

It pains you to see him like this and that pit of anxiety is making you move without thinking. Against any better judgement, you quickly step up to the side of the bed. You know he’s going to swing, you know he’s going to try to hurt you, but you can’t help it. You need to wake him.

You call out his name once more, much louder, and put your hand on his arm at the same time. His reaction is instantaneous. His eyes shoot open and hands move swiftly through the air to grab at you. You had been prepared for a fist, not for open palms slapping themselves on your shoulders and pulling you forward by your shirt. He uses his legs to help drag you onto the bed and flip you over, pinning your hands over your head with his metal hand and trapping you underneath him within a tangle of twisted sheets.

“Bucky, stop!” you cry out, shocked and slightly scared. His eyes look down on you in a haze, completely empty and seemingly looking through you. He’s breathing heavily, his weight resting on your thighs as he straddles you. He starts to raise his free hand up and ball it. “James!” You’ve never called him that before, but it slips out in a desperate attempt to reach him.

And it works. His fist hovers in the air as his eyes clear. The metal biting into your wrists loosens just a little. You let out a sigh of relief and relax underneath him.

“It’s me,” you whisper to him. “It’s just me.”

“Y/N?” he breathes out, eyes finally clearing of all confusion and really looking at you. “What…” he trails off, taking in the sight of you underneath him, the way one of his hands is holding your wrists and how the other is drawn back poised to strike. “Fuck.” He drops his fist instantly, putting it by your side and using it to lean on and take some of his weight off of you.

“It’s alright,” you tell him, already seeing the panic and the guilt start to fill him. “It’s alright.”

His body sinks down, his chest barely pressing against yours, his head dropping down to your shoulder. A strong string of Romanian curses slips from his mouth. He releases your wrists and goes to pull away, but you grasp at him with your right hand, needing to do something to show him you were okay. He interlocks his fingers with yours and drags it down to rest more comfortably next to your head instead of outstretched over it.

You both take a moment to breathe, to let the adrenaline come down. You grip his hand tightly and turn your head just enough to brush your cheek against the side of his head. He groans and turns so his lips are by your ear.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks. The fear in his voice practically breaks your heart.

“No,” you assure him. “I promise.” You can feel him take a deep breath, feel his chest expand and press down onto your own.

“What were you doing, doll?” His voice is coarse and broken. The hand by your side tentatively slips closer, pressing against the sheets bunched up at your hip.

“The pillow didn’t wake you,” you try to explain, throat suddenly dry. “It must have been bad.”

“Yeah.” He shifts slightly, his pelvis pressing into the tangle of thin fabric between you and his lips brushing your ear as he does, causing a tingling warmth to spread through your body suddenly. It all feels too reminiscent of your dream. “It was bad,” he confirms, making you shake the thoughts. “Real bad.”

“Then I’m glad I woke you.” He lifts his head, looking down at you seriously.

“Don’t do it again.” He means it as a warning, but it comes out as a desperate request. “I don’t want to end up hurting you.”

“I think it turned out pretty alright.” You raise the tone of your voice and throw him a smile to try to lighten the mood. “I mean, I bet there are plenty of girls who wish they could be me right now.” You shimmy your hips and wag your eyebrows at him in an exaggerated attempt to wipe that pain off of his face. He cocks his own eyebrow at you, still not sure he’s ready to joke right now. You decide to give one more push to clear the air. “Not exactly how I ever pictured being under you but…” You shrug and let out a small laugh. His face turns to one of surprise, but recovers quickly.

“Think about me pinning you down often?” he jokes back albeit a little dryly. It throws you off a bit. Sure, you started it, but you didn’t really know how to finish it. Especially when you don’t want to admit the thought had crossed your mind a little too often recently.

“Not… quite what I meant.” You know you’re not really making sense, seeing as how that’s exactly what you meant, but Bucky doesn’t seem to care. He’s watching you intently and his metal thumb is slowly running down the length of your own, your fingers still locked together.  

“Well do me a favor,” he says. You find yourself holding your breath when he leans down ever so slightly for a moment. “The next time you want to get under me, just ask instead.” He leans back, releasing your hand and sitting himself up on his knees. There’s a chill that replaces him and you miss his body heat on you.

“But this was so much more fun,” you tease as you start to stretch your body out. He’s still sitting on your thighs, but you can at least stretch out your upper half and release that tension that had built up in the last few minutes. In the midst of it, you almost miss the way Buck’s eyes watch your body and the way they sink a shade darker.

“Didn’t know you liked it rough, doll.” His voice is coarse and low and for a moment you wonder if you’re actually dreaming again. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, a nervous reaction to the feeling of not knowing what to do.

The silence only extends further and while normally your eyes would be jumping around the room, trying to look anywhere except at the man over you, instead you can’t look away. He’s never looked at you the way he’s looking at you right now and it’s making it hard to breathe.

“Alright,” you say, voice surprisingly clear. You take one of your hands and smack it against his thigh, trying to make it quick and playful enough that you don’t have time to think about the muscle under his skin and how it feels. “Get off of me you big lug.” He cracks a smile at you and the tension seems to break for the time being.

He chuckles as he starts to climb off of you. It takes a minute to detangle both of you from the sheets. It’s more effort than either of you thought it would be, twisting and untwisting, pulling and yanking, trying not to fall over when you stand but finding one of your feet still stuck. It helps things shift back to a normal ambiance.

You both settle back into his bed, leaning back against the head board with the laughs at your clumsiness fading out. You stay up talking for nearly an hour. You only talk briefly about his dream, but his reluctance to tell you much about it has you changing the subject quickly. You know he’ll open up when he’s ready and if he wants to. Until then, you don’t push.

As the night goes on, you notice you’re leaning against his right arm, head resting on his shoulder. You let out a wide yawn, the idea of sleep starting to have a comforting allure. Bucky lets out an amused huff.

“You better not be falling asleep there,” he teases, shaking his shoulder at you, making you lift your head just.

“You make a bad pillow anyways,” you joke, tilting your head back to look up at him. Soft eyes and a small smile look down at you, a lot closer to your own face than you expected. It sends a warmth through you, a heavy comfort that makes it hard to break the stare.

“So, what do you want to do?” he nearly whispers to you. You watch as his eyes sweep over your face and you have to convince yourself the look of admiration you see on him is just your mind playing tricks. “Are you staying here tonight?” There were some nights where after your little midnight visits you went back to your own room, but they were few and far between and he’s never asked you about it before. You think you hear a little bit of hope in his question, but that could just be your sleepy mind distorting reality.

“The long, cold walk to my room doesn’t really sound appealing right now,” you tell him with a smile. His right hand reaches out to rest on your thigh and give it a gentle squeeze. You resist giving into the way you suddenly want to lean and melt into him.

Words don’t need to be spoken as you both pull away from each other and resituate in the bed, crawling under the sheets after fanning them out. Bucky turns out the lights and sleep threatens to wash over you instantly. It only takes few moments to find a comfortable position; laying on your right side, back to Bucky, your arm strewn out underneath your pillow. The tiredness has just about won out when you feel heavy metal slipping along your torso. You startle, body stiffening and eyes opening to see Bucky pause the motion of wrapping his arm around you.

“This okay?” he whispers against your hair. You relax, this time allowing yourself to sink into him.

“Yeah,” you whisper back to him, not sure what else to say. It’s enough for him though and he presses his chest to your back, arm enveloping you and letting his fingers curl around your hip underneath you.

“G’night, doll.” His voice is groggy, sleep having come quickly to him as well. You don’t have to answer, simply let your arm fall over his and press it tighter around you.

---

After that night, everything changes. Your platonic relationship suddenly becomes extremely flirty and you can’t stop the butterflies and the dirty thoughts as much as you try. Bucky’s warm smiles slip into seductive smirks when no one is looking and every once in a while, you catch him staring at you with what you swear is desire.

The images of him in your mind start out tame, simple. You wonder what it would be like to kiss him, to have him lean down in the middle of the night when you’re already so close together and just press his lips to yours. But it’s not long before you’re imagining his hands on you, his body pressing you down into the mattress.

Simple kisses soon become the last thing you think about when he’s near. You think about him slinking up behind you in the kitchen again, but this time it ends with him bending you over the counter. You dream about pushing him down on the couch and riding him, making him come undone beneath you.

You have no idea if Bucky is having similar thoughts or if he’s just having fun. Rumor has it that back before his Winter Soldier days, he was quite the flirt. You tell yourself that he’s probably just letting that part of himself back out, that he’s just that kind of comfortable with you now. So, you follow his lead, never push him further, never say or do anything he doesn’t start first. And you try like hell not to notice that he keeps pushing the boundaries.

---

It’s a Friday night and everyone’s gathered in front of a large TV, a recent tradition for the occupants of the tower. People are peppered throughout the room on the furniture and floor, bowls of popcorn, snacks, and movie candy covering all surfaces available. You’re in the corner loveseat with Bucky, both of you curled up under a shared blanket.

It’s about halfway through whatever action movie the guys picked out for the night when your leg that’s folded up underneath you goes numb. You go readjust, putting your hands down on the couch to lift your body up, but your left hand lands high up on his thigh instead. You let out a short “oomph,” the feeling surprising you. Your arm collapses a little, bending at the elbow and bringing you closer to him.

“Easy there, doll,” he whispers as he grabs your arm to help steady you. “Could give a man the wrong idea.” After getting your legs unfolded, you remove your hand off of him and smirk.

“And what idea would that be?” you ask teasingly, keeping your voice down. He lifts his eyebrows and cocks his head.

“Well, I’ve actually got a couple of ideas.” He doesn’t sound like he’s done, but a loud explosion on the TV interrupts him as the crowd of people you’re in reacts. You lean back away from him as if someone’s going to notice how close you two got.

A few minutes later, you feel his hand under the blanket slowly glide over the middle of your thigh, fingers dipping down to the sensitive skin on your inner leg. You have to force your body not to shiver, his touch sending a fire through you. He feels you tense under his touch and starts to pull back, afraid he’s unwelcome.

Without even thinking about it, your hand darts out to him, halting his retreat. You purposely keep your gaze on the TV as you drag his hand back to your leg and place it just a little higher than he originally had. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him smirking and when he starts to make small circles with his thumb, you can’t help but smile.

He doesn’t move his hand other than to lightly squeeze your leg, but your mind wanders horribly. You keep thinking about him dipping his fingers further, about him sliding his hand up to the juncture of your pelvis and his fingertips gently playing with you. You can practically hear his husky voice whispering dirty words in your ear and you have to stop yourself from fidgeting. You can’t even close your legs and rub them together to give yourself some friction because you’d trap his fingers between your thighs and that would just make everything so much worse.

A blush rises up to your cheeks and you brush your hair off of your shoulders, trying to cool yourself down some. You chance a look at Bucky and the bastard is just staring at the TV, the ghost of his smirk still on his lips. He doesn’t miss you looking at him though and his hand inches higher.

God, was he trying to make you combust? You toy with the idea of pushing back at him. You could slip your own hand under the blanket, run it up his leg, maybe put it at just the right spot to brush against his cock. You can imagine his body tensing like he’s been making yours do, imagine being able to feel the twitch in his pants as he takes pleasure in your teasing.

“I’m going to get some more popcorn,” he tells you quietly, taking away the option to act on your musings. You nod a little too quickly and find yourself unable to form words. He removes his hand and tosses the blanket off of his lap. He takes the bowl from the end table, which is practically still full, and tosses a wink over his shoulder at you.

You barely wait for more than a minute before you think, fuck it, and follow him into the kitchen.

“Don’t trust me to use a microwave?” he teases when he sees you enter behind him.

“I wanted a drink,” you defend, immediately going to the fridge to find yourself a soda, pleased with yourself for finding an excuse so smoothly.

“I would have brought you one.” He reaches into a cabinet, finding a packet of popcorn. You briefly wonder how he intends on fitting it into the bowl.

“I didn’t think about it until you left.” You shrug and crack open the tab on the soda can. “And since neither of us are telepaths, I had to come get it myself.”  He starts the microwave as you take a drink and lean back against one of the counters. He crosses his arms over his chest and stays where he is, cocking out his hip and leaning against his own counter across the room.

“Enjoying the movie?” he asks. You give half a shrug.

“Not really paying much attention honestly.” The look on his face says that’s exactly the answer he was hoping for.

“You do seem a little distracted,” he admits, trying to sound sympathetic, but the satisfied and teasing tone wins out in his voice. “Got something on your mind?” You take another drink to buy yourself some time.

“No,” you squeak, mentally kicking yourself for losing that suaveness you had just a moment ago.

“No?” He pushes his hip off the counter and starts walking towards you. “You sure?” You find yourself continuing to drink from your soda, keeping it at chest height as if that’s going to keep him at bay. “I mean, like you said, I’m not a mind reader.” His advances continue, only pausing when he’s standing in front of you. “You have to tell me what you’re thinking.” He glances down at the soda in your hand and slowly reaches out, giving you plenty of time to swat him away if you want. He wraps his hand around yours and guides it to the counter behind you, letting you leave the can there and allowing him to step closer. “So, what are you thinking?” he whispers, his hands coming to your hips.

You wet your lips and open your mouth to answer, but no sound comes out. Your eyes are drawn to his lips, parted and upturned, amused. His fingers curl over your hipbones and it’s so hard not to just throw yourself onto him. Your skin is hot and that blush is burning onto your cheeks, body somewhere between paralyzed and fidgety. He leans down, face only inches away from yours.

“What do you want, doll?” You hold back a groan, the pet name sending a familiar ache right between your legs. Your stomach turns and drops, parts of your body starting to feel numb. He pushes his body forward, pressing it against yours and the pressure of him feeling absolutely enveloping. Your hands finally move, coming to grip at his shoulders. He hums at you, trying to get a response.

“James,” is the only thing you can manage to whisper out; his name slipping out accidentally, instinctively, and hotly. A low growl comes out of his throat and he drops his forehead down onto yours.

“Don’t call me that,” he tells you firmly, fingers digging into you. “Not unless you realize how much I like it.” He turns his hips into you and you let out the smallest gasp when you feel his cock rising against your leg. Your fingers twist in his shirt, the tension in your body needing to be let out somehow.

You’re about to pull him closer, to let this finally happen and succumb to every little feeling you’ve been having when the microwave goes off, beeping loudly into the kitchen. You’d ignore it, say to hell with it and pull Bucky down to you, but you know it won’t stop because the fucking thing is broken. It won’t stop yelling at you until someone opens the door and if you let it keep going, eventually one of the others will walk in.

Bucky’s eyes are dark and he turns his head to glare at the microwave like he wants nothing more than to shoot it. If he had a gun nearby, you might actually encourage it. Instead, you let go of his shirt and he’s gone in an instant to retrieve the popcorn he didn’t even need. You look down at the floor, rubbing at your neck in an attempt to hide your nerves.

“There you two are!” Sam exclaims, walking into the kitchen completely clueless to the tension in the air. “Is that more popcorn?” He approaches Bucky and takes the fresh popcorn from his hands, ignoring the glare he’s getting. “I’ll take that, thanks man.” He pops a couple of pieces in his mouth and gives an exaggerated grin to the man who looks like he wants to rip his head off. You bite your lip not sure if you’re equally frustrated or utterly amused.

“I hate you,” Bucky deadpans, only making Sam grin wider. You grab your soda off the counter, the can feeling extremely cold on your heated skin. You take a breath and make your way towards the door.

“Don’t kill each other, boys!” you throw over your shoulder before exiting.

Part Two

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Hi loveys- I’m too tired to say much, traffic made a 2.5 hour drive over 4 hours. So, I’m sleeping! Thanks @emulateharry for the read!

Hinode-Chapter 8!

"You can't just drop a story like that and not preface it with, 'this one time I was at Mick Jagger's baby shower.'" Ada's face was open as morning windows on the first sunny day after rough weather. Harry loved it. "I need a warning that your aged doppelgänger is the feature of the story." He watched her throat work over a sip of her first glass of the new bottle.

"Mick doesn't like it when you mention his age." He picked up his, second? third? Glass of wine and inclined it at her. "Bit of a Peter Pan syndrome." He leaned in close to the lips he hadn't had the pleasure of since 10 am, 15 hours, not that he was counting, and stage whispered so she could feel it, "but don't tell him that."

"Yeah, next time I'm hanging with old Mick I'll be sure to mention his boyband protege thinks he has Peter Pan syndrome!" She laughed and he could feel that and taste the Pinot Noir on her breath. Right, now, her love of red wine made sense. But he'd had her pegged for Sauvignon Blanc. Something refreshing and that went down easy. He supposed now though it made sense she drank something with much more body. "But I think Peter Pan Syndrome gets handed out with spandex pants to would be rockstars. Though you seem to have missed the all call."

"I don't wear spandex!" He gave her a face fit for Liam, could feel the offense in his sneer. Well, he did to box, but under baggy shorts.

"Yet!" She poked his big huge dimple. "And don't knock it, Bowie and Mercury wore spandex." She cocked her raven head. "But you don't seem to want a neverland zip code..." She left it open.

"What do you mean?" He had a feeling he knew, but felt reluctant to answer. He liked the flirty conversation they'd been having, rambling from her making fun of his grandad socks and him asking her worst LA traffic story to him sharing about how he just caught himself from pushing Mick into the cake at his baby shower. He wondered when his legs would stop feeling too long for his body. He had no trouble sharing embarrassing stories, but, he liked white wine conversation. He shouldn't have been too surprised she wanted to talk about something deeper. He maybe just wasn't ready. At least when he was the subject. He wouldn't mind a view of her depths.

"I mean, you seem, shockingly mature for a quarter century old. I know you started young, but Jagger wasn't much older, and he's certainly still trying to grow oats to sow. You could definitely still be running wild, and excused for it I bet. With the dimples and the rambly speeches....."

"Um," he looked around. He needed to get into this, if all those fields he felt when she touched him were ever gonna he real. Harry never went to college, but this felt like the conversations his friends would talk about, the all night ones where people got vulnerable. So, the words stacked up like lemmings ready to jump, the slow ramble of an explanation. He'd want reciprocity. He hoped that this was a foundation, not just an amazing experience he would remember long past their expiration date. Like those conversations often were, he was given to understand. He gathered his courage around him like a baggy coat; he'd done way scarier things than talked, really talked, to a woman he could love. Harry, admittedly, sucked at communication, sometimes conversation. He was gonna do it anyway. "God, this will sound pretentious as fuck, but like, my mum always said I was an old soul with a young spirit." He sighed and leaned back with his glass. "When the band started we had a smorgasbord of bad choices all of a sudden. Maybe not, like, bad choices, but like too much too soon. Liam said it was like college on steroids, and it was. Girls everywhere, offering everything- even if they didn't know what it meant. And um, not that alcohol was brand new to any of us, but the party drugs around were."

He looked down from the wallpaper in her room he'd been focusing on, they'd been lounging in her living area, and he was sorry he'd given her the couch. He wanted to lie down. She nodded at him with a sympathetic brow, and reached out for his hand. That was better.

"There were some nights I woke up and really didn't know how I got back to my room. I think those stories were really funny for some of the other boys, but I hated the like, lack of control. The things people said I said." He shook his head and she squeezed his hand. "I love attention."

"No! You! An international pop star? Love attention?" He smiled gratefully at her attempt to lighten his heavy mood. He wasn't aware this bothered him so much anymore. He'd changed his life so much since then, because of then. "Well," he smiled back at her like a chevalier, "drunk 17 year old Harry really liked attention, and drunk 18 year old Harry really liked girls."

"Do you still like girls?" She fluttered her eyelashes he wondered if it was entirely on purpose. He hoped some of it was unconscious, just her animal brain liking his smell.

"Yeah, I just like fewer of them, and not exclusively. Mostly, I like women." He felt his lashes touch his cheek for a breath and then his eyebrows a couple heartbeats later.

"Good!" She loosened her grip on his hand and used the looser grip to caress him fingertips to elbow. Green light. He could totally shift gears here and wind up on the couch with her, on top of her. Some of the lessons of the lost year stuck, were useful. Or he could tell her the really useful one. How it changed his life. "Round about, honestly," big breath, "those two years are kinda a blur. But I was really pissed at myself for fucking up a performance. Bitching to my mum in my dressing room. And she had this long suffering face, occasionally it obliterates her compassion face. I realized I'd seen that face more than I liked around that time. When we got to talk, even on FaceTime when she called one morning and caught sight of a girl leaving for example. So I, all exasperated like, threw my hands up like a toddler on a store floor and asked what, and she just said, "maybe it's not the song's fault, but how you're treating your instrument.'" He laid his head back and felt her playing with his thinner rings, smiled when she pulled it over his knuckle and then back. "You can take it off." He was already emotionally naked here, his bare fingers couldn't be to shocking. He kept talking while she took off the rose ring, a favorite still in his heavy rotation, and put it on her thumb. He liked that. "Like a bratty 18 year old used to getting his way a bit, I think I asked her what she was on about and went back to bitching. But, I kept hearing it, and the next time I was out late, partying, before we had a big performance, I paid attention. The high notes, they were always hard for me."

"Awful lot on your solo album then." There was a question there he would come back to.

"Yeah, I stopped drinking before shows, which was most nights then, and got a vocal coach. And the girls...."

"The girls."

"Well mum hadn't given me that talking to yet. So that kept up a little while longer."

"But not into your seventies?" She pulled his rings up one by one, and then laced their fingers so that the naked borders between their hand and digits could match up. Then slid her hand away. He wanted to be touching. So he shifted over, planted himself on the couch instead. It was a touch big for two, but ample.

"Barely into my twenties."

"Were you just born middle aged, do you think?" Ada teased. He chuckled a little bit. She was good at this, letting him talk and think slow, distracting him, giving him light comments to his thick words and touching him. Always the physical connection. It kept words flowing and him comfortable in vulnerable moments.

That had been working since day one on set. Ada had the magic touch. He wondered if that was just for him or others too? He wanted it to be his. Harry wasn't normally possessive he didn't think. But he did feel covetous of her attention and touch, her secrets.

Harry took off all his rings then, and layered them up on her hands and pulled them forward, kissed her knuckles. "Maybe not middle aged, but a little ahead of the curve maybe?"

"Is it cuz you had to take care of your mom, do you think?" She wasn't making eye contact on that question. Oh.

"She never asked me to take care of her." He shook his head, she wouldn't like that, his mum. If he had grown up so fast because of her being alone. If it was cuz she unknowingly asked it of him. It wasn't exactly true. But it was a little, and maybe more for Ada.

"No, they don't have to ask."

"You just did?" Harry asked.

"She was just so." He squeezed the hands he still held. "Sad."

"Yeah, and lonely." He supplied.

"But I didn't let her be alone." Ada's eyes were a tiny bit slick. His might've been too.

"I never let her be alone, and I hope I never made her feel guilty for being lonely, with me there." Harry wondered about that. He had eavesdropped a conversation, just before his mum found Robin, about how guilty each date made her feel. He'd stopped pouting when she went out then. He hoped it made her more open when she met his step dad. A tiny contribution to their story.

"Oh, I know I made her feel bad. I remember screaming one time, in my angsty Ophelia stage- 'why do you care about him so much? I'm here!'" She shook her head.

"But, it's different." He said it as gently as possible.

"She deserved a partner, and I...."

"We're not supposed to be their partners, just their kids, babies, they feel guilty if we take too much emotional responsibility."

"And I was pissed at him, but when I did see him, I couldn't be a little bitch, or I was afraid I'd never see him again." She inclined her head.

"But she wasn't going away. So she got the brunt of your teenage angst." She was nodding, he supplying the hardest truths for her. She nodded back and her serious brow cracked his heart for her to crawl in a little deeper. They held hands a minute longer, and Ada sat back, so their shoulders touched, and they could only keep holding one hand.

"Were you an angst boy ever, locked away in an upstairs room, is that where the sad wanks started?" He could tell she missed their banter. Needed a fiver from the tough stuff. He did too, but he really liked knowing her better. It made the estrangement he had sensed she pursued from Garner make sense. Harry had found plenty of industry men who were astoundingly successful at what they did, but had a trail of broken relationships behind them. Harry didn't know Garner well enough to know that about him, and he intended to be around Ada long enough to know all of it. He expected he was going to give Garner the stink eye every time they were near each other and have trouble stopping form now on. He would let her change the subject though, so long as they kept talking.

"I don't think the wanks were sad in those days. Exuberant, maybe enthusiastic, those are better words." Her smile had started on exuberant and she was all out laughing at him though he was giggling away too by enthusiastic.

"I bet! I remember what you looked like at 16 and I can't imagine you crying and coming with that fluffy hair and those huge cheeks!"

"Hey! My cheeks weren't huge! They were normal sized." He wanted to pounce on her, show her a wank. But, he felt like they'd gone someplace she wasn't used to, maybe that was more uncomfortable to her than nudity, he didn't want her to bolt. He knew if it got physical as well, it may never happen again. Instinctively he knew, tonight would make them fragile in the short term, viable in the long term. If he went there, where part of him was desperate to go, on the heels off their disclosures, It would give her all the excuse she needed to keep it there. He'd never get below the surface again. So, he didn't tickle, or pick her up and drape her across himself, did nothing more than lace their fingers like a seam together. God knew he wanted to stitch other parts of him to her.

It just wasn't all he wanted.

She was pointing at him, so he caught her finger and bit the tip playfully. Her eyes widened and then her pupils flared. But before she leaned in and made the offer, one he couldn't refuse, he said "Since you like to be mean and make fun of people, let's see you at 16!"

"Um, no!" She shook her head. Her hair hitting her cheeks a foreign feeling so late at night, or early in the morning. If he wasn't here, her hair would be wrapped up already, but she was trying to be cute. Not scare the white boy. If he stayed, she'd have to re press it tomorrow and they were to travel all day. It would be worth it. But that last segue, and their companionable positions indicated that may not happen. Not yet. A compromising position would get her out of this uncomfortable one though.

Ada was disappointed by the change in directions, she finally thought they might get bare in a way more familiar for her. She'd much rather be in bed with him than talking about her dad, however obliquely. And showing him a picture of her in her very serious alt girl phase was not happening. Awkward very high ponytail, because her mom still wasn't exactly sure how to do her long hair, her hair at all. Ada has learned in college from the new friends she made how to manage her own hair.

She was alright in her teen years, same bone structure and features. But she took herself very seriously those days. Painfully earnest. It would be embarrassing. The clothes, all those ripped tights and midi skirts and flannels. She thought she may even have some vinyl with safety pins recorded for posterity. Yikes! Though she'd seen some very good facsimiles of her own teenage look when they were shooting in harajuku. It still made her cheeks burn. Could she?

"No way, unfair, I am sure you have seen some god awful pictures of me." He grabbed his phone and she was sad they were not touching anymore. It looked like she was not getting dick tonight. His moves were not getting laid ones. She'd be damned if she made the first move. Well, the first time. After that he better be careful when they were alone and away from set.

She was glad they'd tackled that subject first, when the wine was breathing. They were gonna be professional, and never alone. They had agreed to be realistic about their attraction level, so no face time without a chaperone, like an Austen film, or they both assumed they'd be sucking face. Tonight was almost confusing in its modesty. Only their conversation kept their clothes on. It had been awhile since she'd wanted somebody, longer since she'd been wanted. It was wonderful. Ada was gonna hold onto it. She was sure it would be wiped out if he saw a picture of her at 16.

And then he pulled a post on tumblr, of all fucking places, and showed her a smattering or horrible outfits ranging from ill fitting trainers and trousers to a Miley Cyrus costume.

"You make a credible Miley!" She didn't even pretend to not be laughing at him.

"I know! She even said so." He laughed and god, was it weird to want to put whipped cream in his dimples to suck out? Probably. She was gonna ask if she could whenever they broke the seal anyway. "That was when I fell in love with Tokyo. I decided that I wanted to wear the fleshy pants and they were all too easy to acquire."

"Yes, Japan has an underbelly."

"A sexy underbelly?" He pointed at his long pale torso.

"You are so white! God, I thought you liked fake tanner that year, you look paler than her in the picture."

"It's just the lighting." Oh, big lip. She pulled it. He was right, there were some gems on the internet of him. Why he ever, even at 14, wore that Caesar cut. A tragedy for his curls. She fluffed them to assure herself of their presence and that she could. He leaned into her hand and all Ada could think was why not.

"Hold on." She thought there was one Mia had tagged her in, though it killed her, because it was just so chock full of nostalgia. She was pretty sure she had it on Facebook. Way to show her age, lot even Instagram. It didn't take long, she was so inactive it was not far down her feed. But there she was in all her 15 year old glory. Her jeans were baggy and her top was cropped and her hair was high. They'd been at Magic Mountain she thought, those long days that felt like being grown up until you really were. Roaming a place without direct supervision. She'd insisted on her boots that day, though her mom had repeatedly said they weren't walking shoes. By dusk, she'd had to buy band aids.

The memories were crystal clear, and made her smile. She thought maybe she'd had her first kiss that night, some boy from the 213 she exchanged numbers with. Never spoke to again, not even via phone.

"You look at this, remember it's in solidarity with your bowl cut, and then forget it." She'd narrowed her eyes at him and he'd nodded fervently. Then bit his lip when he saw the picture. She assumed to stop the laugh from escaping.

"You are laughing at me!" She was laughing too. How horrified her younger self would be. Ada was very serious at that age, especially about herself.

"I'm not, I'm not. You're so cute!" They were both giggling away and Ada was trying to wrestle her phone back from him.

"Give me the phone, Styles!" She hopes the neighbors were deeply asleep and that the walls were thick in the hotel. "And remember your promise. You are immediately forgetting this."

"Nope, I'll never forget it. Not even if I tried." He was cackling, a wheezy laugh opened by a snort that made her laugh harder. Like those pre teen moments in her bedroom when a friend's snort set everybody rolling again. Their roving conversation and active flirt was everything, obliterated boundaries. So much so that she was straddling him trying to reach deep behind him where he had stashed her phone. She had both hands working now. It was when she felt the distinct crack of his muscular ass that she realized her phone wasnt in his shorts, but her fingers definitely were.

Her eyes came up to his and he still looked brimming with mirth, though his pupils were big and his smile was a smirk. He wiggled her phone with his right hand. "Looking for this? Or have you found your target?"he flashed his eyebrows at her.

Ada pulled her hands free, but left them on his shoulders and sat back on her haunches. Silencing that little voice that hoped his legs would bear her weight harshly. "Um," she wondered if the brightness that was her blush was as obvious to him as it was to her. "Sorry?"

"No worries. Any time you would like to stick your hands down my pants, let me know." She watched the indecision cross his mind. Ada might be getting her way with him. She was sure of it for a nanosecond, and found herself sad. That didn't seem the right way to end this night. Though she didn't know of a better sleep aid than orgasm.

Half of her wanted him to go for it, desperately, the other half, really hoped they had this night, that felt so much like a third date rather than a first, for itself. And the things they showed were their fears and not their body parts. Then his eyes settled and her heart slowed, beat in time with his.

"It's good we travel tomorrow, so I don't have such an early call time. It's late." Ada nodded, still perched on his lap, her hands full of his shoulders and her nostrils his leather and man scent.

"It is, you'd be able to carry a vacation's worth of things in your eye bags tomorrow. When we get to Kyushu, get a treatment on the production to fix that. You have to look your best!" He rolled his eyes at her gentle ribbing and put his hands on her hips. He pulled her into him, and they kissed for the first time all night. It was languid, and Ada felt the tension in her released and reintroduced like her desire was pulled taffy. Rolled over itself and then pulled taught.

He tasted like the wine and long nights rising to early morning, and she was going to lick in for a deeper taste, maybe get the cherries and blackberries the Pinot carried on the palate too, bright orchards in the sun too, when he sat back on the couch and looked at her.

"I want to stay." Ada started to talk, and he barely placed his long ringed index finger against her pouted lips. "But I think tonight was perfect as is."

Ada knew she was nodding. She agreed, despite herself.

"But next time," he caught her eye and the heat there singed her eyebrows, "you and I are in a room alone together so late at night, I'll be hard-" he emphasized the word with a tiny lift of his hips. "Pressed to find the gentleman within me." And he leaned forward and gave her a chaste kiss capped with a tiny bite to her fuller bottom lip.

Ada was dazed as he helped her off his lap. She knew she followed him to door, that she leaned against it to stay on her feet despite her weakened knees. He didn't kiss her there, and she didn't even wonder why. He'd already left quite the impression on her mouth, his taste was on her tongue where she had licked them.

"I'll see you when we get there? We have most of the whole place, around the onsen you wanted?"

She'd nodded, cleared her throat. "Ye-yeah. We have the whole place. The crew and cast. Tomorrow evening there are no events, no shooting, so everybody can go in the hot springs."

"I can't wait to see you in the hot springs." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, smoothed a loose piece of hair back. Her hair would curl up insanely in that steam. She was surprised his sentence didn't remind it it was a ringlet.

"Yeah, bet you look good slick and wet." She bugged her eyes. That was a thought not to be shared that she'd been having. Since she chose the location, if she was entirely honest.

"Too bad they aren't private." He raised brow.

"My room is supposed to have a private bath. With the spring water piped in."

"Mine too. Guess we will have to try both." He chucked her chin and left her standing there staring after him, wishing the next 24 hours away, and wondering where the bumbling boy who fell on her went. He'd been annoying but much less dangerous than the confident man who just walked away. Maybe he wasn't Mick's doppelgänger, but had one of his own. She yawned over that thought and skipped her night time routine assuming she'd just make up for it in the morning.

The next day, she nearly missed their flight. It had taken her ages, despite all the wine, to fall asleep. And she'd woken up from hot dreams to sweat dripping visions of a wet Harry. Maybe he should have stayed. Then she might have been able to sleep, or have a better reason to be awake.

She also left her phone charger in her room, and was worried she wouldn't be able to find one on Kyushu. It was Japan, there would still be electronics available everywhere, right?

They were delayed, and short a vehicle, and lots of logistics were in disarray. She had tons of moles to whack all day. Nothing seems to be going right.

By the time they got everybody checked in and squared away, Ada was dreaming of her private bath, without Harry in it, she was so tired. And she could carry his expansive wardrobe in her eye bags.

But she didn't have a room or private bath at all.

"What do you mean there is no room for Ada Scott?" She was trying not to be the screaming rude American, but who the fuck didn't get her a room? They were fired!

The lady at the counter was quietly explaining they were full, but that everybody on property was with the same group, maybe she could share.

"I don't want to share." Oh, she'd lost control and was whining. "I want my private bath and a bed to myself!" That's what she needed dammit. Deserved after a long day on little sleep with no dick and single kiss to obsess over.

A hand slipped around her waist, hooked into her belt loops, a body smoothed up her back. Ada looked down to see a cross and rose. "I don't know how private my bath would be, but you can have it, but there will be no bed to yourself."

[almighty-letu]

My little test subject: Chapter 13

Chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, chapter 11, and chapter 12

Angsty Tomtord fic with slight Paultryk on the side.

Warning! This fic contains: Foul language, scenes of torture, use of medical tools, drug use, self-harm, suicidal tendencies, violence, self-neglect, blood, and a little bit of stockholm syndrome and force feeding. Viewer discretion is advised.

Matt narrowed his eyes as he glanced out the window. The days are getting shorter. He observed, taking note of the sun’s position in the sky. And the nights are getting colder. Soon winter will be here. It was hard to believe that it’s been exactly eight months since Tom’s untimely demise. He never would’ve thought he and Edd would be able to cope with the pain they had felt back then; but they are moving on. Slowly, but surely.

“Matt? You alright in there?”

The sound of Edd’s voice coming from his living room snapped Matt out of his thoughts. He opened the microwave and pulled the freshly-made bag of popcorn out. “Coming!” Reaching toward the cupboard, Matt poured the salty treat goodness into a bowl. Before leaving, he stopped by the fridge and grabbed a can of coke. He bought a boxful the day before and left it in his freezer just on the occasion Edd would come over to his place. This will surely keep Edd in a cheerful mood.

“Have you picked a movie yet?” Matt asks, stepping out of his kitchen and into the living room. When he didn’t get an immediate response, his gaze landed on his friend; who is currently sitting on the magenta couch with his legs crossed. He’d invited the brunet over to his apartment in hopes of rekindling their shaken friendship with a casual movie night. Edd was fumbling around with his phone, staring at the screen intently and a little coy smile on his face.

“Edd?”

The brunet looked up startled, almost as if Matt had caught him doing something wrong. “Wha- what?”

Matt jumped back started, careful not to let any of the bowl’s contents spill over. “Whoa easy there!” He laughed, albeit a little uneasily. “I asked if you picked out a film?”

Blinking rapidly, Edd shook his head. “No- sorry. You were taking some time, and I guess I got distracted.” He rubbed the back of his head apologetically. Matt didn’t miss the way the brunet’s eyes flicked briefly to his phone screen.

“It’s fine.” Matt shrugged it off. “What you doing anyway? Are you talking to someone?” He tried to peer closer to get a good look at the phone, but Edd swiveled out of his range of sight.

“It’s nothing.” Edd replied briskly. He must’ve realized how odd his reaction was, and immediately relaxed and added with a sigh. “It’s just some prompt requests and offers. Nothing tremendously exciting.”

“Oh right, yeah…” Matt chuckled half-heartedly, trying to lighten up the mood again. He sat down next to Edd on the couch, setting the bowl of popcorn between them. “How’s the- how is the art coming along?”

Breathing an exasperated sigh, Edd stuffed his phone away and leaned back on the sofa. “Not very good.” He admitted. “I haven’t been able to draw anything worthwhile for some time now. I just can’t find any motivation to do so.”

Matt patted him on the back and offered his friend the coke. “Ah cheer up! Maybe all you need is something to relax over and refresh your head.” He reassured. “A good movie afternoon with some snacks will surely do the trick!”

Edd regarded his words and smiled. “Guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am!” Matt laughed. “Just you wait, you’ll be back to drawing in no time.” He clasped his hands and rubbed them together eagerly. “Now; what are we waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road!”

He handed Edd the remote control for the TV. They started flicking through the various movies available, searching for something they’ll both enjoy.

“We’ve watched plenty of horror films in the past. How about an animated one for a change?”

“Sounds good to me!” Matt agreed enthusiastically, grabbing a handful of popcorn and stuffing it all into his mouth.

They navigated through the large selection of movies displayed on-screen, occasionally expressing their thoughts to each other whenever they pause by a possible choice before moving on with their search. Being a lover of all things animated, Edd isn’t picky when it comes to animation. He has some preferences, sure; but he isn’t about to turn up his nose if a particular style doesn’t appeal to him. He likes cheap, crappy horror movies for Christ sakes, his taste isn’t exactly refined!

After nearly half an hour of browsing and discussion, they eventually settled with a stop-motion flick. It was on Edd’s watch list since it first came out, though he never got around on actually watching it, and Matt was a sucker for the awkward movement and, in the ginger’s opinion, “cutesy” animation. So they shrugged their shoulders, decided “why not?” and selected it for their afternoon movie section.

Edd pressed play, sat back, and took a sip of his cola as the logos came on screen.

After what he’s been through lately, watching a film with Matt of all things really never crossed his mind. Probably because it seemed so mundane and… out of the norm from how he usually spent his days. Moping around, and doing nothing particularly exciting with his time until night fall. Mostly because all his attempts of performing tasks that usually brought some sort of emotion out of him, whether it be a positive or negative one, was replaced with empty numbness despite Edd’s best efforts to cope.

They duo sat there, watching the movie play out in silence, save for the occasional comment here and there and the sound of munching popcorn.

About twenty minutes into the film, when the main character was attempting to converse with their dead relative for guidance before being chased down by evil ninja-witches, and Edd’s attention was fixated on the screen with interest; loud noises could be heard coming from right outside of the apartment. Although obnoxious and kind of distracting, Edd didn’t pay them much mind.

Just lousy neighbors. He figured dismissively, eating more popcorn. They’ll leave soon enough.

However, the sounds hadn’t eased- quite the opposite happened, in fact. The noises coming from the hallway outside only grew louder in frequency, followed by voices that weren’t even trying to keep their tone down.

Edd shifted in his seat with clear discomfort. He debated with himself whether he should go out there and outright tell them to be quiet, or try his best to ignore and pay attention to the film. He shot a questioning glance at Matt, wondering what he preferred but the ginger didn’t turn to look at him as he raised the volume of the TV to its highest setting.

Upon closer look, Matt seems uncharacteristically stiff and rigid for some reason.

Edd brushed his doubts away, and turned his attention back to the screen. He tried his best to focus on the movie but every time he felt even slightly immersed in the story and characters, his mind would drift away back to the noises. A familiar tingle of dread made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but Edd couldn’t tell why. Something in particular about the voices outside set this feeling off in him, however he could not put a finger on it for the life of him.

The loud bumps and knocks that accompanied them didn’t help matters.

Growing increasingly restless, and unable to keep his curiosity down and neither the alarm bells ringing in his head; the brunet finally conceded.

“The hell do you think the neighbors are up to out there?” Edd prompted with feign nonchalantness as he took a sip of his beverage.

“Meh, who knows?” Matt shrugged indifferently while grabbing a chunk of popcorn. “Probably nothing exciting.”

Edd wasn’t satisfied with that answer. He couldn’t help the lingering suspicion that Matt might be hiding something from him, and it might be connected to the neighbors out there in the hall.

A tremor coming from his pocket jolted him out of his thoughts. Taking the phone out, Edd read the message.

(RF): So can you make it tonight?

He went to unlock the phone in order to reply when his eyes briefly flickered over the date displayed above the message:

Friday, 6th of July.

There was nothing particularly out of the ordinary for this date. However, something seemed to finally click into place in his head. The loud noises outside. The neighbors who wouldn’t stop talking. Matt’s stiff posture. It all made sense now.

It’s moving day! Edd deduced with a start. The people making so much noise are our new neighbors; and they are moving in to the apartment next door. Tom’s apartment. His posture deflated with a pang of sadness when he realized what it meant, but quickly brushed it off. He shouldn’t feel sad- he already knew this was happening one way or another, and leaving the apartment vacant to gather dust won’t change the fact that Tom is dead. It’s best to put it to good use for someone who actually needs a place to live.

Even if it meant-

Edd grimaced at the following thought.

Even if that the person leaving in the mornings to check the mail wasn’t his grumpy, eyeless friend; Edd knew this was the best course of action to take.

He breathed out a heavy sigh. Taking a second glance toward his orange-haired friend with this new information in mind, it’s no wonder Matt looks so stiff and uncomfortable. He thinks I’ll get upset if I figure out what’s really going on out there. Edd resisted the impulse to bristle at the insinuation that he may be too emotionally weak to think rationally. He couldn’t hold this against Matt. Tom was still kind of a sore topic to touch upon whenever he was mentioned between them, and Matt was just doing what he thought was best in his own anxious way. Edd can’t really fault him for that.

A loud bump disrupted his thoughts. Edd shifted his focus to the noises coming from the hallway, trying to hear what they were saying. Funny enough, the voices stirred an itch of familiarity within him; though he couldn’t quite place it. He’s definitely sure he heard these voices before… but where?

Edd shook his head. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this, and he is fairly sure he lost some pivotal plot points from the movie. “Alright, that’s it.” He jumped to his feet.

Matt looked up at him, startled. “Where you’re going?” He asks worriedly through a mouthful of popcorn.

“I’m going to tell our neighbors to pipe down. They are making too much noise, and I can barely hear what’s going on in the film.” The brunet crossed the short distance between the couch and the door.

“Wait, Edd! It’s fine- really!” Matt cried out, scrambling from his seat to try and reach out for him. “I- I don’t wan- I don’t really mind the noise all that much. I can try to-”

“Matt!” Edd abruptly cut him off, an edge of impatience in his voice.

The ginger instantly clamped his mouth shut, and fixed his worried blue gaze on his friend. Realizing he sounded harsher than he’d intended, Edd shot him an apologetic glance over his shoulder; his posture sagging as he released a tired sigh.

“It’s fine, Matt.” He tried again, this time with a much softer tone. “I mean it, really. I know what’s going on and you don’t need to hide it from me anymore. It’s okay!” Matt ducked his head down in shame, his gaze downcast. When he lifted his eyes again, Edd was surprised to see sorrow and guilt brimming in his friend’s stare. It honestly unnerved him in a way. What’s the big deal?

Figuring Matt was just upset he got caught trying to keep things from him; Edd shrugged it off as him simply being overly emotional.

“I know things haven’t been exactly the same between us since… you know. But you don’t have to keep every little thing that has to do with Tom a secret from me.” Edd continued uneasily. “I know you mean well, but I am not unstable. We’ve discussed about renting out Tom’s apartment, and I might’ve been upset at first, but we both agreed it was the best course of action to take.” He grabbed the door handle as he spoke.

Matt’s eyes widened. “Wait, Edd-!”

“Calm down, it’s fine.” The brunet opened the door just a crack. “I’m just going to tell the neighbors to quiet down a little, nothing worth so much drama. Maybe greet them into the complex while I’m at it.”

“That’s not what I-”

“I won’t lash out at them over this. You worry too much, I’m telling you it’s fine!” Edd insisted. He opened the door before Matt could make another protest, and he peered out into the hall.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I know you guys are new but could you please keep the noise down a bit? We’re trying to watch a movie and-”

He froze. His words instantly dying out on his tongue when he saw two men he had never thought he’d see again standing before him; their belongings scattered around the hall whilst in the process of moving to their new apartment.

One of them was leaning back on the door frame of an apartment on the opposite side, sipping on a can of coke- diet coke, Edd noted with vivid disgust; while the other man was half-way through removing their belongings from a crate. They don’t appear to have changed much since the last time they’ve seen each other.

Edd stared at them in disbelief. After all the crazy adventures he’d gone through, he had thought nothing else could shock him, but for a heartbeat he forgot how to breathe.

Staring curiously back at him, both looking perplexed and mildly confused, were none other than Eduardo and Mark.

“Eduardo?”

“Loser-? I mean- Edd?!” Eduardo blinked at him in disbelief. “You live here?”

“Uhhh, yeah?” Edd answered, highly uncomfortable with the situation that he’s gotten himself into. Edd isn’t exactly sure what their current stances are now. Are they still rivals? Are they… cool now? It’s hard to tell after a whole year of not seeing each other. Doesn’t help that the last time they crossed paths ended up being a terrible tragedy for both groups. “What- what are you doing here?”

“What’s it look like?” Mark retorted, dusting his hands as he settled the crater down. “We’re moving in, of course.”

Edd’s blood ran cold, and he gulped apprehensively. What did he expect? There is literally no other reason why they would be here now, today of all days, with their stuff all over the place. After a second to recompose himself he prompted. “You- you two are sharing the flat together?”

“What? No. There isn’t enough space for the two of us in one apartment.” Mark clarified, surprising Edd with his assertiveness.

In the past, Eduardo had always been the more vocal one of the group. But now the dark haired brunet was just standing in silence with his favorite beverage in hand, his face giving nothing away.

“Eduardo’s taking the vacant apartment adjacent to yours, while I’ll be living in the one across from his. Simple as that.”

Though he’d already guessed, hearing his suspicions being confirmed out loud only made his blood run cold with dread; chilling him to the core. Out of everyone in this town looking for a place to live, Edd internally winced. Why did it have to be Eduardo of all people to move in Tom’s apartment?

Sensing anguish welling up fast inside his chest, Edd decided it was best to end this interaction immediately. It’s bad enough running into them when he wasn’t even sure what their relationship is; he doesn’t need the humiliation of showing vulnerability in front of them on top of that.

“That’s, uh, great I guess.” He choked out stiffly; attempting to clear his throat to mask the uneasiness that he felt. “I’ll be heading back inside now. Sorry for interrupting.”

He was half-way behind the door when Eduardo called to him.

“Wait, Edd.”

Edd stopped, but didn’t step out again. Instead he merely peeked from the remaining gap of the door, his heart growing colder by the second. He could hardly stand to look at the other man. He’s always so cocky and arrogant and pleased with himself. . . . He recalled with nagging frustration.

Then Edd realized that he seemed different now from how he had been before the incident. He hasn’t made a single snarky remark to me… yet.

“We heard what happened to your friend.” Eduardo murmured, seeming uncertain of his own actions. It was weird to see the usually brash and arrogant man be so hesitant and act sympathetic. But he held a look of genuine sadness in his eyes. Edd grit his teeth at the indirect mention of Tom. You weren’t supposed to know about that! “I’m sorry.”

Edd stared at him, unsure how to respond. He tried to choke out a “Thank you” because he knew that was what he was supposed to say. But his throat felt as if it was full of ash, and his grief rose until he felt it might burst out of him.

Still, he kept his emotions in check. His eyes blurred with sadness, Edd only gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement and headed back inside.

The door clicked shut behind him and his strength vanished, leaving only a familiar numbness that he’d grown so accustomed to the past days. Edd’s shoulder’s sagged and his gaze was downcast.

“Edd?”

He looked up at the sound of his name. Matt was still sitting on the couch, movie paused, his knees hugged to his chest with his face half-hidden as he stared at Edd with wide dismayed eyes. “Are you okay?”

Edd’s mind was whirling. He couldn’t think beyond this moment; he only suspected his best friend’s involvement in the situation. He narrowed his eyes. “Did you know?”

Matt let out a long sigh, closing his eyes briefly as if he had to nerve himself for what he was about to say. The he faced Edd again.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but there was never a right time.” His blue eyes were seared with guilt.

In other words; you were afraid to make me upset. Edd couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his thoughts. Although he appreciates the sentiment, he would’ve appreciated more if he’d been warned ahead of time to better handle the situation. Doesn’t Matt know by now that keeping things from me don’t make them go away, but make them worse?

Edd took a deep breath. “Why did you tell them?”

“Tell them what?” Matt prompted, clear confusion evident on his features.

“About Tom!” Frustration made Edd hiss through gritted teeth. “Why did you have to tell them what happened?”

“I didn’t!” Matt’s eyes were genuinely mystified, and Edd realized the ginger was telling the truth; he hadn’t revealed Tom’s terrible fate to their so called former rivals. “The landlord must’ve probably mentioned to them or something. I would never say something so personal to those guys! I promise!”

For a moment that lasted a heartbeat or perhaps a full minute, Edd simply stared at him. Tension easing off his shoulders, Edd finally decided to relent and spare Matt from further distress. He looked away and sighed; running a hand through his hair as he went to sit back on the couch.

“Edd?”

“I’m fine, Matt. Just press play on the movie.” Edd leaned back with arms crossed over his chest. He kept his gaze on the screen, but could still sense the ginger’s gaze on him.

He heard Matt sigh in defeat and the film resumed; though neither of them appeared to be paying any real attention to the rest of it, now that tension was thick in the air between them.

Edd stared at the screen blankly, admittedly enjoying the aesthetic of the animation but never getting quite sucked in to what’s going on; when a slight tremor coming from his pocket caught his notice.

Edd pulled out his phone to see another message, realizing with a start he’d forgotten to reply to the message before.

(RF): Eddie?

(RF): Oi! Don’t leave me hanging bud!

He began to type back, glad to have something to distract him from the awkward occurrence that he’d just gone through.

(EG): Sorry!

(EG): Got kind of sidetracked…

(EG): But yeah, I can make it!

An instant reply popped on screen.

(RF): Splendid! :D

(RF): Same time and place sounds good to yah?

(EG): Yup

(RF): Great!

(RF): Till then

Edd closed his phone with small grin, feeling moderately better than he did now that he has something to look forward to at the end of the evening.

(Meanwhile…)

Wind swept across bleak and icy mountains, carrying with it flurries of sleet. Dark clouds blocked out the sun entirely from view, casting the landscape in shadows that only subsided for a split-second by the occasional flash of lightning that ripped through the sky.

Patrick stood firmly still amidst the storm, umbrella in hand, as he watched the soldiers work about the runway. His eyes squinted against the heavy rain and the strong, howling winds buffeting both his hair and uniform wildly in the air.

A pair of white lights appeared in the distance, heralding the approach of a helicopter. The steady sound of the rotating blades reached Pat’s ears above the clamor of the storm, and before long, the aircraft itself came into view.

He observed in silent anticipation as the helicopter neared the helipad. One of the soldiers stood right in front of it, acting as a marshall, and used the glowing batons in each hand to signal the aircraft forward to land.

The helicopter’s door slid open before the craft could even fully touch the ground, and a figure jumped out, seemingly not caring about the horrible weather he exposed himself to. If anything, he appeared to relish the freezing sting of the gale and rain against the injured side of his face.

“Home sweet home.” He sighed contently.

“Welcome back, Red Leader.”

Patrick greeted him with a courteous dip of his head, extending the umbrella over his leader’s head to shelter him from the rainstorm. “It’s good to have you back, sir. Hope you had a pleasant flight despite the dreadful weather.”

“Indeed.” Tord regarded his surroundings with a wistful glance.

After having to travel to four different bases in a matter of months, dealing with the idiocy of some of his soldiers and putting them back in line, Tord had longed to return home and resume his work on more important matters that actually deserve his time and attention.

He raised one hand and flicked his fingers, signaling for the soldiers who had been accompanying in the helicopter to move out. The soldiers exited the aircraft at his silent order, bringing with them a sealed tight crate. It was labeled “confidential” on the side with big letters, and etched in red.

“Should I know what is it that you got there with you, sir?” Patrick inquired, his gaze following the mysterious box with curious intent as the soldiers carried it inside.

“All in good time, Pat.” Tord smirked. “Although frustrating at times, my time away has also been very fruitful. I managed to gather information that will prove to be most pivotal for our research.”

And that’s all he would say in the matter.

Tord headed for the hangar’s exit, Patrick following right behind him, walking at a brisk pace. The Red Leader, although acknowledging the presence of his soldiers with a curt nod as they walked past him, barely paid them any mind. He has more pressing affairs to attend to, and he was eager to see his test subject’s development up close after being gone for so long.

“So, how’s subject #1826 doing?” Tord brought it up as soon as they got into the elevator, and out of earshot from the other Red Army members.

Patrick shot him a side-glance as he pressed the -3 button. “I thought you already knew the answer to that by now. We have been updating his progress all along after all.” He said, closing the umbrella and letting it lean on the side of his leg.

“Yes, well, the last update you sent me was nearly a month ago and I want to know all the precise details.” The Norsk stated, a hint of impatience edged in his voice. “Did he behave?”

“Yes, sir. He behaved exceptionally well in your absence.” Pat replied. “Perhaps you should consider leaving again to keep on Tom’s good graces?” He teased, a small smirk forming on his face.

“Oh ha ha! How clever of you!” Tord fake-laughed, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he narrowed his eyes. “Astounds me how you didn’t become a comedian instead of working in this dump.” He paused, his tone softening. “Still; it’s good to know he wasn’t being difficult with either of you.”

Sighing, he ran one hand through his partially wet bangs. “How is he otherwise?”

Patrick shifted his feet. “His physical condition has improved drastically since we first acquired him. His body mass and weight are back to normal measures, all his injuries have healed, and there is no trace of sickness in him. Truly, he is in the best shape possible and I think you’ll be glad with the end result.”

“Is Paul putting him through more advanced exercises now that Tom’s faring better?”

“Yes; and I believe they are in gym as we speak, sir.” Pat continued. “We also altered his diet plan. We are serving him three meals a day, with small lunch breaks in between like fruits or crackers.”

“And his mental condition?” Tord pressed.

Pat’s gaze drifted away. “I’m not entirely sure. Thomas is very closed off, and it’s hard to read him.” His shoulders slumped and he leaned back against one of the elevator walls.

Tord blinked at him with surprise. For the first time in a long while, perhaps because he hadn’t seen the Polish soldier in months, Pat looked genuinely tired.

“Pat?”

At the sound of his name, the Red Army general immediately composed himself with a tiny shake of his head. “Mentally; the results are still inconclusive. I need to perform a few more sessions to be sure.”

Tord regarded him for a moment longer.

“You think he might be ready for the experiments?” He demands. His eyes narrowed.

“Soon; but not yet, sir.” Patrick responded, clearing his throat. “Since we don’t know much about the serum’s nature, we have no way of knowing if it has any correlation to the subject’s brain activity.” He went on. “If were to start the experiments on Tom with the slightest chance of him being unstable, we have no idea how well that would translate with the serum.”

Tord looked at Patrick and solemnly nodded his line of reasoning. “Very well.” He conceded.

“Also-” The General added hastily. “The shipment of the purple stuff you ordered from our suppliers arrived last month. I took the liberty to store it in the lab for your use when the time comes.”

“Did Tom see it?”

“Negative, sir.”

“Good.”

The elevator’s doors slid open. Patrick stepped out; expecting his leader to do the same, but glancing back over his shoulder the Norsk remained unmoving.

“Aren’t you heading for your office?” Pat suggested. “Being gone for so long, I thought you’d be dying to return to your quarters.”

“Later. I want to check Thomas’ progress for myself first.” Tord answered briskly. He was restless to see Tom again, and how much he’s changed. “Contact me should you need anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

They both nodded curtly and the lift’s doors closed.

Alone in the elevator now, Tord raised the palm of his robotic hand and placed it over the panel in the wall where a scanner is situated next to the buttons. It is meant to read soldier IDs for clearance reasons. Not everyone is allowed to take the elevator, and some floors are off limits; especially the -5 level, where the serum experiments are being held in.

The scanner read the small screen that his palm displayed, and the confirmation sound rang above him. Tord pressed the button and leaned back as the lift set in motion once again. He was absolutely ecstatic to see the progress his test subject had made.

(Meanwhile…)

Breathless and sweating profusely, Tom sprinted as fast as his tired body would allow. He panted but kept on running despite his body’s pleas to stop. His heart was hammering against his chest so hard that Tom felt as if it lodged against the bottom of his throat, and nearly suffocate him. Blood roaring loudly in his ears.

He leaped over the obstacles standing in his path smoothly, regardless of his rapidly decreasing energy. Tom’s mouth felt parched, and it was tough to swallow. He was tired, and yearned for a pause to rest; yet the exercise felt rejuvenating to his being.

Using one last surge of strength in him to make it through the end of the lap, Tom pelted for the finish line. He felt eyes following his movements as he did so, and Tom risked a quick side glance to the far right of the tracks where Paul was standing. Although brief, he accidentally made eye contact with the Red Army commander; the latter even giving him an encouraging nod and a flashed a little, friendly smile.

Tom snapped his focus back to running, shaking his head dismissively. The world seemed to slow down despite his speed, and everything turned a shade darker. A sudden weight manifested on his back and coiled around his shoulders, like a snake constricting against its prey. Tom resisted the instinct to flinch when he sensed a cruel pair of sharp hands press up against his jugular.

“Don’t be fooled. ~” The voice hissed in his head. “You know they are after only one thing, and that’s why they are treating you so decently. ~” It reminded him sternly. “It’s all a ruse. Nothing more than an act for you to let your guard down. But now that you are onto them, they’ll start to get desperate to regain your trust. You better not forget that! ~”

I won’t.

The voice vanished; allowing him the chance to complete the rest of the circuit.

Upon crossing the finish line, Tom skidded to a halt and hunched over to his knees, panting to catch his breath. His forehead was coated with sweat and his face was flushed red with heat.

“44 seconds!” Paul exclaimed, pressing the stop button on his stopwatch. “You are 8 seconds slower than last time; but considering this is your fourth lap today, I say it isn’t all that bad.”

Tom did not respond. He was too busy catching his breath back to his lungs to properly process the results.

“Think you can do 2 more laps?” Paul prompted, handing him a water bottle.

Tom snatched it out of his hand, still not speaking, and tipped the bottle into his mouth. A little bit more desperate to quench his thirst than he’d intended to, he drank the water clumsily and some of it dribbled down the corners of his lips and dripped off his chin and onto his sweaty shirt.

“Sure.” He finally answered, breathless. “Just uh- just give me five minutes or so.”

“Still having the lungs of a pug, I see?”

The unexpected, and yet familiar voice made Tom stop mid-swig and choke on the water. Spitting out what remained in his mouth, Tom looked up with wide eyes; thinking perhaps it was just the voice playing another prank on him. But there was no dark haze clouding his vision, and no ghostly limbs holding him. Not to mention the speaker sounded smooth and cool. Sure enough, Tom’s fears were confirmed when his gaze landed on the imposing figure standing by the gym’s entrance. A coy smirk was plastered on the man’s face, hands folded neatly behind his back, and his one visible eye was glinting with what appeared to be a mixture of enthusiasm and interest.

Paul instantly straightened himself and saluted the Norsk as he strolled into the room. Tord acknowledged his commander with a nod as he approached, before turning his attention to Tom. “Hello, old friend.”

A wave of dread and resentment spiked through Tom at the sight of the Norwegian man. He narrowed his eyes. “F#ck, you’re back already?”

“Thomas! Is that any way to greet your leader?” Tord pretended to gasp, his eye sparkling with amusement.

“You’re not my leader, much less my friend.” Tom growled.

The Red Leader did not respond to his remark. Tord stepped closer to him, his gaze raking over the Brit with interest. Patrick wasn’t kidding when he said Tom made a full physical recovery. The test subject who had arrived in the base underweight, sickly pale, and gaunt all those months ago has made a miraculous improvement.

Tord began to circle him, taking a closer and more detailed look at him.

Tom’s skin tone took a healthier hue despite not getting any sunlight, and his frame is no longer frail bone and skin. He wasn’t wearing any bandages, and Tord could see that most of the bruises were healed except for a few faint scars. He’d developed a good mass of muscles too; most notably on his arms and torso. His legs and thighs have also grown sturdy and fit from the exercises, and the dark bags that had accentuated his eyeless sockets have disappeared. Despite being a sweaty mess right now, Tom looks generally better than he did since the last time they saw each other. The pictures certainly didn’t do him enough justice, and Tord was all the more glad he took his time to see Tom’s development for himself.

On his part, Tom was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the lack of personal space between him and the Norsk, and the intense gaze roaming his body didn’t make it any better. He kept his attention on Tord as he circled him, making sure to keep the Norwegian man on his line of sight at all times. Tom did not enjoy the way Tord was looking at him, and he found himself glaring at the man pacing around him.

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” Tord murmured under his breath, nodding in approval as his gaze wandered Tom’s form from top to bottom, and back up again one last time. His gaze eventually settled on Tom’s unique black eyes, and he cocked his head to one side with a tiny smirk. “I see the life of a soldier is treating you quite well.”

Tom turned to him fully and narrowed his eyes. “Uh, I think you mean the life of a test subject? At least that’s the official term from what I’ve heard?” He pointed toward the number tag on his shirt, as if to prove his point. “Still; can’t say the same for you.” He gestured to the burned side of the Norsk’s face.

“Anyways, where were you before I interrupted?” Tord quickly changed the subject, and switched his attention to Paul; seemingly ignoring Tom’s comment altogether.

Prick. Tom fumed irritably, taking another sip of his water bottle. Commie’s been here for five minutes, and he is already grating on my nerves.

“I’m having test subject #1826 run laps around the tracks, sir.” The Red Army Commander reported, showing him the timer on the stopwatch.

Tord eyed the numbers with a critical eye. “Decent, but I wouldn't go writing home about it.” He hummed pensively. “Mind if I stay and watch? It would be a good way to learn where his strengths and weaknesses lie for when I begin his training.”

“Training?!”

For the second time that day, Tom spat out his drink. He wiped his face clean with the back of his hand, and shot the two soldiers an incredulous look. “What training? What are you talking about?”

The Red Leader pinched the bridge of his nose with sigh, his lips quirked upward in the form of a small grin. “Oh Tom, you mean to tell me you haven’t pieced it together?” He teased. “I know you’re dense, but surely you must’ve suspected something out of the intense exercises we put you through? All of this isn’t just for the sake of keeping you fit, you know. If that were the case, I would just have you running on a treadmill with a bottle of Smirnoff hanging on the other end and it would probably work just as well!”

“The hell you talking about?”

“What do you think? You are going to be a soldier, Tom.”

Tom froze with shock at his words. He felt as if he’d been hit in the chest by a ten-pound sledge hammer, and was standing there stunned and staring in disbelief at the f#cker who assaulted him. For a second, Tom hoped he just imagined or misheard what Tord said; however, judging by the clear satisfaction on the Norwegian’s face it was evident he’d heard correctly.

Anger soon replaced shock, and Tom clenched his fists with a scowl. He wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to say. What? Why? F#ck? No? Uh? Knowing he would make a blunder of himself if he attempts to speak, Tom resorted to follow his most basic urge at the moment.

He flung the water bottle at Tord’s face.

Foreseeing his moves, the Red Leader effortlessly caught it mid-air before it could strike him. Tord felt Paul shrink back in shock beside him, looking back and forth between him and Tom anxiously; anticipating the situation to escalate any moment now. But Tord was calm- in fact, he was amused by the eyeless man’s antics.

He looked at the bottle in his hand, then turned back to Tom. “I’ll let it slide, this time.” He warned.

His comment seems to stir Tom’s fury further, and the Brit marched up to him stiff-legged until they were practically nose to nose. “No. There’s absolutely no f#cking way I will ever be another one of your stupid soldiers!”

Tord frowned. “Your future is non-negotiable at this point, Thomas.” He pointed out matter-of-factly. “You signed your life over to the Red Army when you took the deal, remember?”

“To be a test subject for your stupid plans. That’s it. I didn’t know about this garbage when I agreed!” Tom snarled.

“Admittedly, at the time this wasn’t part of my plans either. But after giving some thought on the situation, I realized it’s the best course of action for you.” Tord reasoned coolly. “We can’t afford to transport you out in the middle of the battlefield. What’s the point of a super-secret weapon if it’s impractical? You’ll be of much better use in the front lines, where you may shift if we ever need to turn the tides of battle to our favor.”

Tom stumbled backward, hardly believing what he was hearing. Being the commie’s test subject was bad enough; but now he wants him as a soldier too? Tom shivered in disgust at the thought of being just another one of Tord’s stupid, brainless, and obedient pawns. The image of wearing the ridiculous red and blue uniform made him nearly visibly retch.

From the sidelines, Paul stepped closer to them. “Sir, I sincerely urge you to reconsider.” He spoke up. “All Red Army members joined by choice, and Thomas should get the same rights as they did.”

Tom glanced at him in surprise. He wasn’t expecting Paul to jump to his defense against his own leader’s judgement. However, Tom was quick to crush any presumption that Paul was doing this out of some resemblance of care he may have for him.

Tord turned to his Commander with narrowed eyes. “I already gave him the choice to join us, and he did so willingly.” You forced me into it you prick! Tom bristled at the reminder of the threat put over his friend’s lives. “I don’t see why I have to give him a second chance if he’s already part of our organization anyway.”

Paul shook his head, looking troubled. “Pat’s not going to like that, sir.”

“Then Pat can discuss this with me himself.” Tord retorted through gritted teeth, his patience running thin. Paul sighed in defeat, dipping his head toward his leader and stepping away again.

A sudden pressure increased inside Tom’s head and his gaze darkened. “Shouldn’t you be happy? You’re getting promoted from lab mutt to loyal hound! This is the greatest thing you will ever achieve in your miserable existence. Might as well commit to the position. ~” The voice commented ponderingly with a hint of a chuckle, patting his head forcefully. “Or… you should take this as a bigger incentive to go through with your plan. Whichever you prefer. ~” The hand patting his head grabbed a hold of his scalp, sinking nail like claws into his skull and pulling hard. Tom winced. “Vacation is over! Time to start acting, or else! ~” The heavy weight constricting his brain seemed to uncurl and release him, and his vision dimmed back to normal.

“Now then, if there aren’t any further arguments perhaps we should resume with your exercises.” Tord clasped his hands together, straightening his posture and with his chin raised to assume a more authoritative appearance. His one gray eye gleamed back at Tom mockingly, as if daring him to challenge his power.

Tom glanced back at him, muscles still stiff with outrage- or maybe it’s just from all the exercises he’s done so far. He wanted to argue. He wanted to keep on defying him for every little thing, and throw insults at the commie’s face. But what’s the point of any of it anymore? Not give Tord the satisfaction of obeying him? You would think with the constant desire to die floating around in his head, he would have gotten better on his priorities, but evidently not. Tom’s rivalry with Tord is not something easily brushed over no matter what circumstances they’re in.

Mustering all his self-control, Tom simply sighed and nodded briskly. “Fine.” He begrudgingly relented.

Catching Tom’s gaze, Paul cleared his throat and nodded solemnly. “Two laps.”

Tom took a deep breath and walked over to the starting point, well-aware of the Norsk’s gaze following him. He took position; standing with his feet about shoulder-width apart with his right leg just behind the starting line- and waited for Paul to give the signal.

From the corner of his vision, Tom could see Tord standing off to the side of the tracks next to Paul. Tom elected to ignore his presence, and pretend he wasn’t currently in the same room as him; or that he was standing in such a close proximity of the Norwegian man. He caught a glimpse of Tord’s robotic arm and remembering what happened the last time he’d been present on his physical evaluation, Tom stared at the device intently- silently urging it to glitch again to get Tord out of the room. It’s times such as these Tom wished he’d been given psychic powers along with the rest of his gifts.

“And… go!”

At the signal, Tom pelted away at once as Paul pressed start on his stopwatch. Tord watched Tom race through the tracks, his gaze pinned on the eyeless man as he leaped over the obstacles at a decent speed.

Not taking his eyes off the test subject, Tord addressed his Commander. “Anything unusual happened while I was gone?”

“Unusual, sir?” Paul echoed, raising one eye-brow in confusion.

“With him.” Tord nodded in Tom’s general direction. “Has he demonstrated any odd behavior changes as of late?”

Paul shrugged. “Nothing out of the ordinary, sir.”

Tord pursed his lips, unsatisfied. “Any more fainting episodes?”

“Negative, sir. Ever since his withdrawal subsided, Thomas hasn’t displayed any signs of fatigue or illness.” The Commander fidgeted. “Although he does get sluggish from time to time, and he often complains about headaches.”

Tord hummed thoughtfully, his hand trailing over the designs of his prosthetic one continuously. “And what are you giving him? Pat mentioned you changed his diet according to the improvement of his condition.”

“Normal meals. Mostly what the mess hall serves for the day, with the exception of red meat.”

The additional information caught the Red Leader’s interest, drawing his attention away from the tracks to look at the man beside him intently. “No red meat? Why is that?”

“Tom made his distaste abundantly clear when we served it to him the first time.” Paul admitted. “After that, he insisted on only fish and chicken.”

Interesting bit of trivia. Tord narrowed his eyes. He was brought out of his thoughts when Tom raced past them, panting profusely as he crossed over the finish line. His face was flushed red with the heat of the exercise, and his pacing was slow, if a little sloppy.

As soon as he reached the end, Tom collapsed to the floor; chest heaving as he fought to catch back his breath.

Tord looked over to Paul.

“50 seconds- slightly slower than last time.” He states, showing him the timer on his stopwatch.

Tord frowned. His stamina leaves a lot to be desired. He thought exasperatedly. Then his aggravation gave way to determination. But I know he can run much better than this!

Fortunately, Tord knows just what exactly he needs to bring out the best of the eyeless man.

He walked up to where Tom was splayed on the floor, still panting. Tord loomed over him with his arms folded behind his back and nudged the test subject’s body with one foot. “Get up.”

Tom looked up at him. “Yeah yeah- just uh- just give me a second.”

“It’s already been a second.” Tord stated firmly. “C’mon. The sooner you are done with this, the faster you can take a shower. You smell awful.”

At the insult, Tom’s gaze drifted from the ceiling to glare at the Norwegian man towering over him. Wincing at the effort in his tired limbs, Tom heaved himself to his feet. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” He spat.

The Brit walked back to the starting point and readied himself into position. He still occasionally swayed from side to side, having not fully recovered yet; however, he patiently waited for Paul to give him the signal.

Watching him intently, Tord managed to suppress the grin the threatened to form on his face as he played his plan over again in his head. Let him have a head start.

“And… go!”

Tom rushed away immediately. He pushed himself forward despite the constant protests of his body for him to stop and rest, but he’ll only be able to do so after he’s done with the dumb exercises. Tom’s chest tightened with the lack of breath, and he felt his lungs practically screaming. The world seemed to close around him, but he pushed onward, his vision narrowed to a tunnel, fixed only on the tracks.

Suddenly, the sound of thrumming and fast footsteps catching up to him reached his ears. Before Tom could fully process it, Tord appeared right next him; matching his pace effortlessly. Tom looked at him in bewilderment.

“What the f-?!”

“Why so shocked, Jehovah?” Tord taunted knowingly. “At the rate that you’re running, even a crippled turtle would outrun you.”

Tom scowled. “Give me a break, you stupid commie! This is my sixth lap today to your first – cut me some slack, will you?”

Tord smirked. “Grouchy much?”

They jumped over the obstacles standing in their way together, with Tord taking the lead by a few inches ahead of Tom. However, despite his lazy speed it was clear the Norsk was only pacing himself to stay in step with the tired test subject. He can ditch him any time he wants but opted not to yet just to aggravate the Brit further.

While Tord leaped over the barriers in his way with smooth precision, Tom was clumsy in his lack of energy and his foot accidentally caught the upper-edge of the obstacle; slowing him down as he staggered forward and knocked the barrier to the ground. He quickly put his hands out in front of him to prevent himself from face-planting the floor.

“Classic stupid Tom! ~” Tord laughed, leaving him behind as he raced on ahead. “Watch your step, or you’re just going to keep eating dust.”

Fuming with anger, Tom hared after Tord as fast as he could. No way he was gonna let the commie get the best of him.

“Take it easy!” Paul called after him. “It’s not a race, remember?”

Tell that to Tord! Tom raced harder.

“C’mon Thomas, don’t be like that. Second best is nothing to be ashamed of!” He heard Tord laugh way up ahead.

His lungs ached. A cramp stabbed his ribs. Tord was already halfway back. At this rate, the Norsk would be able to lap him by the time he reached the finish line. How can he run that fast? He’s a smoker! Tom thought incredulously. He forced himself to keep going. The floor flashed beneath him as he fought for each breath. Tord stopped running and stood next to Paul by the end of the tacks to watch him. Dragging in another breath, he hurtled the last few meters and skidded to a halt beside them.

“I- I did! Ha ha…” Tom cheered pathetically, throwing his arms up but giving up half-way to let them rest by his sides. “In your… face!” He pointed at Tord, jabbing him on his chest weakly.

“The best soldier is the one who’s still fighting at the end of the battle. Don’t use up all your strength in the first fight.” Tord advised coolly.

Tom frowned. “Whatever; just give me the damn water bottle.”

Deciding he had enough fun tormenting the poor Brit for today, Tord obliged to his request and tossed the bottle over to him. He turned to Paul. “How was the time this lap?”

“42 seconds! He did much better this time around.” Paul exclaimed.

Of course he did. Tord thought smugly. Tom would never let me best him without trying. All he needed was a little motivation. And though it was not his intent, he actually had a lot of fun racing Tom; even if it was just to nag him into hurrying up. It reminded him of the good old days when they had physical education together as children.

But Tom can still improve. He pushed the childish thoughts aside and shifted back to his leader persona.

“I think Thomas needs a little demonstration on how it should be done.” Tord decided. “Paul, will you please do the honors?”

“Yes, sir.”

Paul tore away, following the line of the tracks at a steady pace.

Tord beckoned Tom over. “Watch him closely.” He ordered as the Brit neared and stood beside him. Upon closer inspection, Tord realized how completely spent and unsteady Tom was on his feet. He placed one hand on the eyeless man’s shoulder to steady him. He immediately felt him tense in his grip, and Tom tried to brush him away; however, although his grasp was not firm, it was persistent and kept Tom from nearly falling over.

“See how much space he covers with each step. Watch how he stretches forward each time his feet leave the ground. Speed is vital, but you need to be in control of the speed.” Tord murmured.

Tom watched attentively how Paul curved his leg with each stride. The Red Commander was at ease with his movements as he raced through the tracks, and doesn’t appear to be the least bit tired by the time he skidded to a halt beside them.

“One last lap. Got your breath back?” Tord asked.

Tom sighed. “Yeah.”

“Don’t aim for speed.” Tord warned. “You need your strength later.”

Tom dipped his head and walked over to the starting line. As soon as Paul gave the signal to go he broke into a run, not pushing hard at first but gaining rhythm and speed as he crossed the tracks. He focused on each bound, reaching out with his feet a little farther before they touched the ground. He pushed harder with every stride until he was aware of nothing but the steady thrumming of his feet and the way his breath fell in time with his pace. He was suddenly moving with ease and hardly noticed any shortage of oxygen in his lungs.

“Much better! You got 32 seconds this time around.” Tord’s voice surprised him. He’d completed the lap of the running track already, so focused that he hadn’t seen him. He pulled up, slowing to a halt before turning and strolling back to his side.

“Nice work, Tom.” Paul acknowledged him with a dip of his head. “I think we’re done for the day. Go ahead and shower.”

“Yes!” Tom breathed in relief. “Thank god, I thought I was about to throw up my lungs all over the floor from so much exercise.”

Tord rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, Thomas.” He flashed him a knowing grin. “You’ll get used to them in time.”

Merely scoffing in reply, Tom picked up a fresh change of clothes and headed for the restroom in the back of the gym. Tord watched him leave, getting farther away until he entered the bathroom and disappeared from sight.

“So…”

Paul’s voice jerked Tord out of his thoughts, and he blinked in confusion. “So?” He echoed.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were planning to make Tom a soldier?” Paul crossed his arms, staring at him as he patiently waited for a reasonably good explanation.

Tord sighed. “I had a hunch Tom might’ve grown attached to the two of you, and vice versa, in my absence. I didn’t want to potentially sour this little trust triangle you got going on by having either of you feeding him that information.” He admitted. “Tom has a tendency to take things a lot more personally than they’re intended to be. He’s… interesting that way.” He paused, running his organic hand through his locks. “He wouldn’t have taken it well had you or Pat told him. It’s best to have his anger target someone who already had plenty of experience in the past.”

“Hm, and have three people be disappointed in you as opposed to only one – yes, very good planning on your part if I say so myself, sir.” Paul muttered somewhat condescendingly. “You could’ve just ordered us to not tell him, if that were the case!”

“It wouldn’t have worked – Tom would’ve just taken that as a bigger offence.” Tord stated coolly. “Anyway, It doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done, and now you know.”

Paul tsked, his eyes gleaming in anticipation of trouble ahead. “You’re the leader. But Pat ain’t gonna like this one bit. You know how he is with keeping vital information from the two of us.”

Tord shrugged stubbornly. “Patrick will just have to accept the decision.”

“If you insist, sir.” Paul frowned. “However, I must remind you that our schedules are kind of in a tight fit. Between dealing with the formal aspects of the base and evaluating Tom’s condition twice a week; it will be hard for either of us to find time to oversee Tom’s soldier training on top of all that.”

“Don’t worry, Paul. I already took all of that into consideration when I made my decision.” The Norwegian man dismissed his concerns. “Which is why I had my schedule re-organized to fit in time for Tom’s training.”

Had he been drinking, Paul would’ve surely spat it out all over the floor by now. “You’ll mentor him?” He sputtered, staring at his leader incredulously. “Is that a good idea, sir?”

Tord crossed his arms. “Why shouldn’t I?” He asked, feeling annoyance beginning to sour his good humor. “This isn’t the first time I personally train soldiers; and Thomas is a special case.”

“Because you two don’t get along.” Retorted Paul matter-of-factly. “Leaving you alone with him is the biggest recipe for disaster I ever heard. Anything goes wrong, and you’ll immediately go at each other’s throats – you said so yourself! Wouldn’t it make more sense to have either Pat or I to mentor him? You know… someone he actually trusts?”

Tord hesitated. There was some truth in what Paul said, but Tord knew that he couldn’t give the task to any other person. He had to have Tom under his own guidance to keep a close eye on any signs of the serum affecting his performance, and make sure he stayed loyal to the Red Army. He knew the most logical choice would be to have either of his most trusted soldiers to train him. Yet something made him reluctant to give Tom to either of them. They don’t have quite the same extensive knowledge about Tom the way that he does.

“My mind’s made up.” He stated curtly. “He’s part of the Red Army one way or another, so he’ll have to get used to my presence eventually. We can’t keep delaying that, so might as well cross that bridge as soon as possible.”

A curious, and yet somehow teasing hum reached his ears. Tord turned to Paul, blinking in surprise when he noticed the Commander staring at him disbelievingly. He narrowed his eyes in return. “What?”

“Sir… do you still harbor feelings for him after all?”

Tord’s mechanical fist immediately clenched. Paul’s words have probed a Pandora’s box of emotions he’d so carefully locked away and abandoned in the deepest part of his subconscious; buried beneath an endless pile of duties and future plans he would so often lose himself to, in order to feed his ambition and aspirations as an army leader, and thus, keep him blissfully ignorant of their existence.

His mood turning stone cold, Tord was quick to grab a hold of himself before he could be swept back to the contents of that particular box, and fixed Paul with a deadly glare. “No, I don’t.” He snarled, straightening his posture to a more authoritative attitude. “Tom is nothing more than a test subject, who just so happens to be the key to victory to my conquest for world domination. Other than that, Tom means nothing to me. Are we clear on that fact?”

Paul opened his mouth to reply, when another voice cut in.

“Hey Paul! I think the ventilation system in the bathroom is busted – it’s way too hot in there!”

They looked up just in time to see Tom exit the restroom, wearing only pants as he dried the bare upper part of his body with a towel.

Tord’s face heat up at the sight of Tom’s shirtless form standing several feet in front of him, melting away all remnants of his anger as he stared at him in awe. His one-eyed gaze raked over the eyeless man’s features, tracing every detail of his well-built and toned chest. Tord realized with exhilaration that Tom was still wet and coated in water as the tiny specks caught the light and gave his appearance a more radiant look, and the Norsk watched as the eyeless man dried himself slack-jawed in amazement.

“Well, I can certainly see why you’re called the Red Leader.”

Paul’s teasing remark cut through Tord’s thoughts and he immediately blinked back to reality. With greater difficulty than he cared to admit, Tord tore his gaze away from the shirtless Brit, and glanced at his Commander who’s looking up at him with a smug expression.

Tord froze, feeling panic rise within him. “Was my staring really that obvious?”

“You were practically drooling, sir.” Paul replied simply, unable to keep the mirth out of his voice as he gestured toward the moisture coating the Norsk’s chin.

Flushing in embarrassment, Tord wiped away the dampness from his chin with the back of his hand. Despair seized Tord, as the terrible realization that Paul had been right dawned on him.

No… no! This cannot be!

What was supposed to be nothing more than a childish crush for Tom – something Tord had taken great lengths to get over and forget about in order to pursuit his goals, has come back to haunt him. The emotions he worked so hard to shoot dead and bury six feet under, have risen from the grave like a strike of lightning through his body.

He risked another glimpse of the eyeless man, mortified at the notion of Tom having seen his slip up and dumbfounded stare. Tord breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed Tom had been too busy drying himself to really pay attention to what they were doing. His stare lingered a couple seconds longer and watched the Brit put on a shirt; all the while despising the familiar fluttering sensation stirring in the pit of his stomach as he admired the sight.

Anger and frustration flared up inside of Tord, quickly squashing down these invasive emotions with an iron fist. I am the Red Leader, and future ruler of the whole world. He reminded himself solemnly. I cannot be distracted by insignificant emotions – they lead to weakness, and I am not weak! He’d already made an exception for Paul and Pat in his life, he can’t afford to be soft-hearted now.

“First you want Tom as a test subject, then as a soldier… next step I guess would be to have him as your-”

Tord did not let the Commander finish his sentence. He spun around, looking furious, and Paul instantly regretted his words as he was grabbed by the front of his uniform by the Red Leader.

“This changes nothing.” The Norwegian man stated, his voice deadly quiet and yet very clear. “Mark my words; if this ever gets out to anyone other than the two of us, the soldiers will be wondering why we haven’t had a taco Friday for the last two years, capiche?”

Paul blinked at him, more bewildered than afraid by his leader’s threat. “Yes, sir.”

“Uh… am I interrupting something?”

Tord let go of Paul at once, and they quickly composed themselves as they turn to address Tom; who’d been standing there for a while in clear confusion.

“Ah yes! The ventilation system. Right.” Tord cleared his throat, straightening himself. “Paul, would you be so kind to have a look at it while I escort Thomas to his quarters?”

“I can walk there by myself, you know.” Tom remarked dryly.

“Oh, I am sure that you can!” The Norsk grinned, his voice smooth and condescending. “However, there are some things that I must discuss with you.”

Tom groaned in exasperation and appear to roll his non-existent eyes, but remained quiet as he walked past Tord and headed toward the gym’s doors. Tord chuckled softly under his breath and followed suit, keeping pace with the huffy test subject.

Paul hadn’t uttered a word throughout the exchange, but Tord noticed that his eyes were glowing with amusement as his gaze followed the pair leave. His interaction with Tom was obviously entertaining the Commander greatly. Tord felt a self-conscious prickle ripple through his skin, and he looked away awkwardly; keeping his gaze anywhere else as he exited the gym with Tom.

As soon as the doors slid shut behind him, Tord felt instant relief flood through him.

Together, they trekked through the long corridors of the lab level. Tord appeared to have something on his mind, and Tom grew increasingly impatient.

“Alright.” Tom began with a weary sigh. “What’s so important that you just had to make me put up with you for longer than I would’ve liked?”

Stifling the laugh bubbling in his throat, Tord merely regarded the eyeless man walking alongside him intently. Tom already hasn’t taken the news of his soldier training very well, so imagine how he’ll react when Tord tells him that he’s going to be the one in charge of said training? Tord shrugged. No matter what way he goes about it, Tom’s anger is inevitable; so he might as well out with it.

“Paul and Patrick have done an excellent work with your improvement thus far. However, as their duties to the army come first, neither of them will be available to aid in your training as a soldier.” Tord paused and watched Tom’s expression shift slightly as he listened carefully. “So I will be personally in charge of overseeing your training.”

He waited for anger to spark in the Brit’s dark, empty sockets, and a resentful curse to be spat his way as he was pinned to the nearest wall by the neck. But Tom merely looked at him, took a deep breath and said: “Fine.”

Tord turned to him in bewilderment. “Wait… you’re okay with this?” He asked, genuinely stupefied by the reaction he got.

Tom shrugged. “What’s the point of getting angry over something that’s out of my control? Yeah it sucks, but it’s not like I can do anything to change it now.”

Who are you, and what have you done with Tom? Tord nearly said out loud, but curbed his tongue at the last second. Looking closely at the test subject now, he realized how miserable and defeated Tom appeared to be. Even after he’d taken a shower, Tom remained tired. Tord couldn’t help but frown in disappointment. He’d been expecting – anticipating even! – for Tom to revolt like the stubborn little spitfire that he knows and-

Tord slammed the breaks on that train of thought at once. Goddamn it, Paul! Frustration welled up inside of him. Why did he have to say anything? Tord had his emotions and thoughts well under control until he had them pointed out to. Now that he is made aware of their existence one more, Tord is struggling to keep cool and not acknowledge them at any given chance.

Doing his best in disregarding them, Tord jerked out of his thoughts and realized they were standing in front of Tom’s quarters.

The door slid open with a quiet hiss and Tom strolled inside, with Tord peering into the room from the entrance. He was surprised to find that Tom’s living arrangements have gained a lot more character since the last time he’d been here.

There were shelves attached to the wall opposite the doorway, with a limited selection of books. Tord guessed Pat had lent some to Thomas after the latter complained of boredom, and possibly to reward him for his good behavior as well. There’s a simple, cube-shaped, navy blue radio by his nightstand displaying the time and date in neon green numbering; next to a lamp. A stack of blank sheets of paper are kept in one corner of the room, with a few pens scattered around. And glued on the surface of a dart board, hanging on the bathroom door, was a crude drawing of Tord with darts stabbed all over the drawing.

Tord raised one eyebrow in amusement. “I can see you made yourself right at home.” He chuckled.

“Yeah yeah, laugh all you want; but I couldn’t stand taking naps all the time, and this was the best Paul and Pat could do for me.” Tom turned around to face Tord with arms crossed over his chest and sighed tiredly. “When… will we start training?” He hesitantly asked.

“In two weeks, more or less.” Tord murmured, making a quick mental revision of his schedule for the next few days. “You don’t have to worry about the specifics. I will come for you when the time comes.”

It dawned on him then that Tom wasn’t worried about missing the training, but rather, dreading it. Idiot. Tord berated himself for his mistake, then followed up with a chain of curses for even caring about it in the first place. Why should the Red Leader care whether or not his test subject is happy with his fate? It’s not his fault Tom hadn’t seen this coming when he signed his life over to him!

And yet… how come he felt melancholic all of a sudden?

It is then that Tord remembers how much he despises when Tom became curt and unresponsive, no matter how much he’d tease the Brit. Tom is no fun when he’s like that. Uh yeah! It’s boredom that I’m feeling – no way in hell this could be a sadness of any kind. He tried telling himself that, when an idea sparked inside his head and he grinned. And I know just the thing to get a reaction out of him.

“Ah! I almost forgot. I got something for you.” Tord practically purred. He fumbled with the inner pocket of his uniform, looking for something. Tom’s eyebrows shot upward in sudden interest, but he eyed the Norsk wearily; as if he were expecting the man in red to pull a dirty trick on him. “You behaved so well while I was away, and you did good today. I think you deserve a reward.”

Tom didn’t know what he was expecting to get, perhaps a box of dog treats because that’s how petty Tord is. However, as soon as the Norwegian man pulled out his prize from his pocket, Tom let out a barely audible gasp as he stared at the familiar teddy bear with the iconic unibrow in place of its of eyes.

“Tomee bear!”

Tord held the plushie out for Tom to take, and it took everything he had to not swipe his childhood bear immediately out of the Commie’s grasp. For all he knows, Tord is just setting a trap for him. How did he get this? Tomee bear is back at- Tom looked at his dear plushie for several heartbeats, his expression turning to one of confusion before settling on shock as he slowly pieced the pieces together and looked back up at Tord.

Horror welled up inside of Tom. “You… you went near them?!”

Tord regarded him with a curious gaze and cocked his head to one side. “Define: near.”

Horror gave way to fury, and Tom bristled with rage. There was nothing holding him back from attacking Tord right here and now. Tord broke his end of the deal, and Tom doesn’t have to obey him anymore.

He was about to launch himself at the Norsk and attack, but Tord had predicted his reaction and pressed a button on his robotic arm. Tom blinked in surprised when his body went rigid against his will, his muscles cramping at once, and found himself unable to move.

“Ah ah ah! Let’s not break your streak of good behavior now, Thomas. It would be a shame if I had to take away some of your privileges so soon after my return.” Tord tutted.

A muffled growl of frustration rumbled from Tom’s throat as he tried in vain to move any of his limbs, but they were all unresponsive and tucked close together against his body.

“Don’t bother. It’s another feature of the chip we have implanted on your spine, remember? Be thankful I hadn’t used a controlled shock this time! Your body is completely paralyzed until I decide to free you again.” Tord went on, messing around with the teddy bear in his hands whilst simultaneously mocking Tom, as if to say: I got your precious bear, and you can’t do sh#t about it! But Tom was more furious at the notion that the Commie went anywhere near the friends he was trying so hard to keep safe and was now parading freely in front of him without fear of any repercussions.

“Guess I can’t really blame you for reacting the way that you did. But to be fair; you never specified the meaning of “near” when we made our deal. So as far as I know, “near” could mean one meter of distance.” Tord reasoned with a shrug, stepping closer to Tom’s frozen form.

The test subject could do nothing but watch as the Norsk towered over him. He couldn’t even shrink back to put some space between the uncomfortable proximity they were in. Tom screamed internally when different types of hands, one made of skin and the other out of metal, cupped the sides of his face. Get off of me! Tom desperately wanted to slap the hands away from him but found himself still as a statue despite his attempts to struggle.

“However, though I know my word doesn’t mean much to you, I can assure you I did not interact with them in any way.” Tord continued speaking. “I admit, I did see them… but they were a well good ten meters away from where I was, and they had no idea I was there.” He paused, his tone softening. “It just so happens that they were visiting your grave at the time.”

Tom stopped his futile struggles and listened.

“They wanted to give your precious Tomee bear back to its rightful owner, and so they left it by your tombstone.” Tord went on. “Me, watching the entire scene from far away, thought to myself right then: “Hm… It sure would be a pity to leave my test subject’s most prized possession to rot here when all Edd and Matt want is to give it back. So why not fulfil their wish?” So I went ahead and took it as soon as they left.” He clarified, peering into Tom’s unique, dark eyes. “So you see? I haven’t infringed our deal at all! Even though you never specified the terms of “near”, I did keep my word and never interacted with them. Which means that our deal still stands in full.”

Edd and Matt are still safe. Understanding slowly dawned on Tom, and his temper cooled significantly. And they… miss me? He felt touched by the implication. Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite appreciate the notion with Tord still holding his face and infringing his personal space like that.

As if he had been reading his thoughts, Tord pulled away from him, and Tom breathed a small sigh of relief. “Now that everything is cleared up, I am going to release you from your paralysis, and you won’t attack me.” He instructed carefully. “Then you can either accept the gift I so generously fetched for you or refuse it; whichever you prefer. But one wrong move, and you’re going to regret it. Am I clear?”

An awkward silence met his words. Tom couldn’t speak or nod, so they just stood there until Tord realized that for himself and face palmed. “Uh… make a noise if you understand.” Tord repeated.

He heard a low grunt from the eyeless man in response. Satisfied, Tord pressed the same button on his arm and set Tom free from his statue-like state.

“Ah! You f#cker!” Tom cursed loudly as soon as he could move again. Feeling his muscles were stiff, like he’d just been electrocuted, Tom made quick work to check all his limbs were working properly by stretching and gently massaging them.

Tord grinned, happy he managed to bring out the good old Tom he found so endearing to pester.

Endearing?

Fun! Tord corrected his thoughts, growing increasingly frustrated at himself at this point. This is getting ridiculous.

Choosing to ignore his traitorous thoughts for now and deal with them later, Tord offered the odd teddy bear out to Tom again. The eyeless man paused in his ministrations and regarded Tomee bear with a suspicious stare. He looks up at Tord with the same look; as if to ask him “no more tricks?”

Tord nodded encouragingly.

Tom narrowed his eyes but reached for the stuffed bear regardless. As soon as he had his cherished teddy bear out of the Norsk’s grasp and into his own, Tom was hit with an immense wave of emotions. Tomee bear had been a gift from his father, and since his death, Tom had taken great lengths to cherish the bear by keeping it close to him at all times. Now that he is stuck in this forsaken base, and will most likely die here as well, Tomee bear now serves as a reminder for his friends too.

Tom hugged the plush tightly to his chest and nuzzled it. He could care less if he was being vulnerable in front of Tord right now. The Commie has no emotional connection to the bear whatsoever, and by god, Tom is not going to be ashamed to cherish the hell out of it even more.

Tord watched the scene with growing fondness and a small smile on his face. Even after all these years… He thought warmly. He still loves that stuffed bear with all his heart. He felt a familiar, but not at all unpleasant tingle in his chest.

“Thanks.”

Tord snapped out of his thoughts when Tom spoke to him, albeit reluctantly judging by his low tone of voice. The Norsk flushed in embarrassment. “Oh! Uh y-you’re welcome?” He stuttered, and immediately cringed. Today is not going the way that I expected. He recomposed himself and cleared his throat, lifting his chin with an air of authority to him. “Yes- anyway, I have pressing matters to attend to at the moment, so I’ll leave you be to your peaceful solitude.” He said, recovering from his slip up with what he deemed sufficient grace.

“You do that…” Tom muttered.

Without another word, Tord quickly stepped out of the room and let the door hiss shut behind him. He let out a long sigh of exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn it all! Tord cursed, his jaw clenched.

He began to put as much distance between himself and Tom’s quarters, quickening his pace in longer strides as he headed for the elevator, whilst continuously chastising himself for being caught off guard by his weak emotions.  

“This doesn’t change anything.” Tord kept telling himself under his breath. “I lived just fine with these emotions before, and that doesn’t mean I’ll go soft-hearted now. I’ll just have to stay as far away from Tom until his training begins; I can easily neglect these feelings again until then.” And maybe Paul, just in case. Tord isn’t taking any chances. He can’t go back to be who he once was – that version of him isn’t strong enough to face the future he’d planned ahead. Red Leader, on the other hand, is powerful. To lead his army to glory and achieve his goals, he must be more like the Red Leader he had envisioned, and less like the weak dork that he had vowed he would never be again.

Friendship and love are worthless to me in the long run. Tord reminded himself sternly. There’ll come a day when I’ll be so powerful, I’ll have no need for anyone else. And when that day comes, the world will bow down to me. He smirked wickedly at the thought.

However, his thoughts came to an abrupt stop when he turned the corner only to bump into a very livid looking Patrick. The General’s eyes flashed at him.

“What’s this Paul tells me?” Pat demanded. “Is it true that you are going to train Tom as a soldier without consulting us first?”

Faen. Tord cursed his luck.

(Meanwhile…)

Rain fell steadily, drumming on the hard pavement that led between unending rows of city blocks. From time to time a car thundered past, its headlights glaring, and people scurried along their merry way to escape the rainstorm.

Wearing the hood over his head and both his hands stuffed in his pockets, Edd looked both ways and hurriedly crossed the street when he deemed safe enough to proceed.

Harsh yellow light angled across him, and he flinched as a car roared around the corner, throwing up a wave of filthy water that reeked of rubbish. Edd let out a startled yelp as the water slopped around his feet and the spray splashed his clothes.

“Argh, great.” Edd muttered sarcastically, looking down at his wet clothes.

Despite his current condition, Edd was excited to be out here. When his disastrous evening with Matt didn’t go the way they had been expecting to, Edd was looking forward to meeting with Reagan and spend some quality time away from all his problems. He really needed to catch a break.

Barely visible through the clouds, the moon was at its height by the time the Harrybrook hotel came into view. Edd hurried his step, eager to get this night going. He reached the foyer of the hotel and looked around for Reagan but found no signs of him anywhere. Edd frowned. Is he getting ready still?

Pulling his phone out Edd quickly began to type in a text.

(EG): Hey!!

(EG): I’m here

(EG): Wh-

“EDDIE!”

A loud voice practically shouted in his ears and a pair of hands came down and clutched his shoulders in a tight, and sudden grip. Edd did not budge or react in any way. He raised one eyebrow, evidently not impressed and looked over his shoulder.

“Hey Reagan.” He greeted casually, not fazed by the Irishman’s attempts of scaring him.

Reagan frowned. “Wha- ? You didn’t get scared?”

Edd shrugged. “Meh. Kind of hard to get scared when you greet me the exact same way every time we go hang out together.”

Reagan placed one hand over his own chest, where his heart should be. “Are you calling me predictable?”

The brunet smirked. “Well, I’m not calling you original, so…”

The Irishman let out a fake, exaggerated gasp before narrowing his eyes. “So that’s how it is then? Well… I guess this means I just have to try harder from here on out.” His mesmerizing green eyes glowed with mirth. “That’s quite alright; I am always up for a challenge. But I’m warning you now – you’re going to regret it.”

Edd laughed. “Ooh! I am terrified!”

A large grin stretched across Reagan’s face. “It’s sure good to see you, buddy.” He chuckled, giving a tap on Edd’s shoulder so hearty that it almost pushed the brunet off balance. “What do you say we go to a pub and drink, maybe eat some fries, and do some stupid sh#t together?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Alrighty then!”

Reagan looped his arm around Edd’s shoulders, bringing the Brit closer to him as they began to head down the street; jovially laughing along the way.

Following their initial meeting several weeks back, with Edd agreeing to be Reagan’s guide for the duration of his cryptic job; they began spending more casual time together. It mostly consists of them goofing about, doing stupid stuff, and Edd showing the Irishman around town.

They walked though the dim, rainy streets for a while, not caring for the bad weather going on around them. Occasionally Edd would stop and point out something about the town to Reagan, going over briefly about the locations they strolled past before carrying on their way.

They came across a bar and decided to settle there. Reagan burst in with vigorous delight, his green eyes bright like a child’s in a candy store as he sat in one of the stools at the bar stand. Edd followed suit a little slower. He checked his surroundings wearily, inspecting the other bystanders in the establishment before taking a seat next to Reagan.

Edd’s no stranger to bars. He just doesn’t go to them very often.

The bartender asked for their orders.

“Beer. Just beer. Any beer. Doesn’t matter just as long is it is beer.” Reagan told the middle-aged man behind the counter.

The barkeep raised one eyebrow, and then turned to Edd.

“Iced cola for me, please.”

Reagan appeared to scoff and throw him an incredulous look as the bartender left to go get their drinks. “Cola? Really?”

“What?” Edd turned to him in confusion.

“Dude, you now that I’m the one paying, right?” The Irishman continued. “You can have anything you want, and you go for cola?”

Edd shrugged. “I am not much of a drinker.”

The blonde man tsked. “Aiight, if that’s what you are most contented with that’s fine by me.” He nudged the Brit’s elbow with his own and sent a wink his way. “But hey, if you ever change your mind I’ll be glad to abide.”

Edd opened his mouth to reply when the bartender returned with their drinks in hand. Reagan immediately downed his drink in one swig and slammed the glass back on the table. “Another.” He licked his lips clean.

Edd chuckled quietly in amusement. Reagan sure likes his beer. He thought, taking sip of cola. He churned the dark beverage in his glass, his smile faltering. He’s a bit like Tom, in a way. His heart twisted with a sudden and terrible ache in his chest.

Thoughts of earlier events that day returned to the front page of his mind, and they soured any semblance of good humor he had. Edd sighed.

“Why the long face, Eddie?” Reagan asked, snapping Edd out of his thoughts. “You look as if you got plenty in your mind.”

“You have no idea.” The brunet mused bitterly.

“Would you like to share with moi?” Reagan offered, tapping one of his fingers against the marble table in a rhythmic fashion.

Edd bit the inside of his lips unsurely. Although they would tend to tap into heavier subjects once in a while; for the most part, these nightly outings served solely as a good distraction. However, its not like he has anyone else to talk to about these things. Matt is too gullible and dim-witted to comprehend what Edd’s main issue is. Reagan is an outsider who could perhaps have a better angle at things.

“Where to even begin?” He breathed out tiredly and rubbed his own face.

Through the gap between his fingers, he saw a glass of beer slide across the counter and stop perfectly in front of him. Edd blinked and glanced at the Irishman sitting by his side. Reagan nodded toward the beverage encouragingly. “Let’s start with loosening up a little bit.”  

Edd raised an eyebrow skeptically. Again; he has had beer before, and although he didn’t dislike it was far from being one of his favorites drinks. However, the blond’s offer still enticed him. Surely one glass won’t harm anyone?

Making his mind up, Edd grabbed the glass determinably and tipped back his head and started to consume the bitter beverage.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Reagan chanted beside him, edging him on until Edd drank the entire glass. “Wooo!”

The brunet wiped away the foam from his face with the back of his coat’s sleeve, clicking his tongue to taste the remnants of beer in his mouth. Edd sighed. “It’s just… some stupid neighbors moved into my building today.”

Reagan raised an eyebrow, his attention peaked with interest. “Oh? What kind of neighbors?” He questioned. “The lousy type? Party animals? Junkies? The lewd type?”

A shiver of disgust rippled down Edd’s spine at the thought and he cringed. There’s no way in hell he is going to keep the imagery in his head for the reminder of the night. He gestured the bartender forward and ordered a beer for himself. Just in case.

“No. It’s nothing like that.” He explained. “My friends and I used to be neighbors with them before. But we weren’t exactly in friendly terms back then.”

“Rivals eh? Sounds fun.” The Irishman bent forward to listen closely. This information may prove useful, after all.

“Not really.” Edd muttered. “But the thing is…” How can he explain this next part without going into much depth? “There was a gas leak in both of our houses and they blew up.” He half-lied. He wasn’t going to admit the true events of that day to anyone outside of that incident. There were too many risks, and the memory still hurt. “We haven’t seen each other since that day, and now that we are neighbors again I have no idea what our current stand is.”

“Why would it have changed at all since then?” Reagan narrowed his eyes.

Edd flinched. He took a sip of his cola to calm his nerves, but dread was still eating away at him. Had he known his true nature then, Edd would’ve never allow him to return. “Because the gas leak was kind of my fault.” He gulped. “And one of my neighbors – there were three of them then – died that day because of it.”

He waited for a shocked gasp to reach his ears. Instead, Reagan stared steadily back at him and sort of nodded in understanding. “Awkward.” He took a sip of his beer.

Edd looked at him in disbelief. “Woah, you are taking this surprisingly well all things considered.” He pointed out.

“Meh.” Reagan shrugged unimpressed. “Accidents tend to happen all the time. I’ve kind of grown used to it by now, and so nothing really fazes me anymore.”

Truth be told, Reagan knows Edd just lied to his face. The guarded and uncertain tone in the Brit’s voice gave him away. Although he was curious to learn what really happened, Reagan wasn’t about to push his luck just yet. He needs to establish a stronger bond with his target before he can get to the juicy, tragic bits and use them against him. Though he assumes it has something to do with the charred ruins where he first made contact with the brunet.

Still, he’ll let that obvious little lie slide. For now.

“Well, anyway.” Reagan went on as normal. “Can’t say that I blame you for feeling the way that you do with them back in your life.” He grinned inwardly. “What about your friends, what do they think of the situation?”

The reaction he wanted was instantaneous. Although Edd didn’t outright flinch, Reagan did feel him tense up next to him, and it took everything he had in him to keep down the Cheshire-grin that threatened to stretch out across his face.

Edd’s breath wavered and he tried to steady himself. “Matt knew they were moving in.” In Tom’s apartment. He did not dare complete the sentence out loud.

“And he didn’t even tell you?” Reagan exclaimed, pretending to be shocked.

The Brit mentioned his ginger-haired companion to him before, and from what he heard so far, this Matt fellow wasn’t going to be a threat to his goals. But he needed to sever that bond in order to make Edd more susceptible to his manipulation. He doesn’t have to break them apart completely; but where was the fun in that?

Reagan shot him a sympathetic glance. “He doesn’t sound like much of a friend to me.” He observed. “I mean, what kind of friends keep things from each other?”

Edd felt a tinge of defensiveness at the Irishman’s words. After all, Reagan doesn’t really know Matt.

“He’s a great friend.” He responded. “But… well, things haven’t been the same between us since-” He bit down on his own tongue, holding the words before they could get out.

“Since?” Reagan prompted curiously.

Edd shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Could he really say something so heavy and personal to Reagan? The Irishman has certainly been a great deal of fun over these past few weeks; helping him move from his grief and let him forget his problems. But Edd wasn’t quite confident in entrusting Reagan with this information yet.

But I promised I would get over and move on. He recalled. If I can’t even say this out loud, am I doing any progress at all?

Edd tensed, his hands clenching into fists. He knew what he wanted to say, but the words seemed stuck in his throat like a hard piece of candy, and were just as difficult to dislodge.

“Before our friend died.” He admitted at last, thinking longingly of the time when he, Matt, and Tom went in all kinds of crazy adventures together. The tension in his shoulders relaxed as he let go of the long-held grief.

The blond man’s expression fell, and he cast his gaze to the ground. “Oh. I’m… sorry to hear.” He murmured sympathetically. “I didn’t mean to – I mean, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine.” Edd cut him off. “It’s been a few months since, but I guess neither of us really got over it.”

The Irishman was silent for a while, his green eyes staring at the brunet with a calculating gaze; whilst concealing his true face inside. Wonder how he would react if he learned that I’m the one behind his freaky friend’s death? He mused with mirth. As fun as the idea would be, Reagan can’t let him know that dirty little secret just yet. He needs Edd to join the Red Army first, or he would never get that promotion. Maybe a few years from now, when we’re both deep into the global domination schemes, I could tell him. Ha. He’ll probably laugh when all is said and done.

Recomposing himself, Reagan cleared his throat to stifle the bout of giggles that bubbled inside of him. “Anyways, about the neighbors…” He continued from where the main topic left off. “I understand how weird this situation is, but do try to play it cool and keep a low profile.” Edd turned to him, listening to his advice intently. “I mean, why should you have to feel guilty for what happened? It’s not like you intended to kill the poor guy!”

“Of course not!” Edd snapped. Then he paused, his humor deflating as he recalled encounter with Eduardo earlier. “When I crossed paths with them today, they weren’t hostile toward me. They were… okay? I guess? But the whole thing just felt weird to me, and I have no idea what it means for our stances with each other.”

Reagan contemplated for a second, his lips pursed. “Do you reckon that maybe they know what happened to your friend?” He asked. “And because of that they think you are on equal ground? Like a: “now you know how I felt back then” kind of deal?”

Edd tensed. The Irishman’s words filled him with apprehension. Could Reagan be right? Eduardo does seem like the type of person who would find justice in such situation. But surely even Eduardo wouldn’t find enjoyment in this? Edd shook the thought away. “I d-don’t know.” He stammered. “Everything’s so confusing at the moment.”

Reagan chugged down his third glass of beer. “Don’t sweat it, buddy.” He gestured toward the untouched beer Edd had ordered a while ago. “Just tip back your head and drink your worries away. You seriously need to relax.”

The Brit glanced at his drink then back to his companion. “God, I’m so sorry.” A flash of guilt flared up inside of him. “We came out here to have fun and I spoiled the whole evening by rambling about my problems.”

He was about to apologize again when a finger came up to his lips and shushed him. “Less talking, and more drinking.” Reagan told him playfully stern.

They clinked their drinks together, sat back, and drank their fill of the bitter beverage. By the time he got all of it down, Edd was feeling tipsy and he swayed a little from side to side.

“By the way, you never quite told me what your job actually is.” The brunet pointed out, his words slurred.

“I haven’t?” Reagan put his elbow on the table and leaned against his hand, looking at the Brit though half-lidded eyes as the alcohol started to take effect. “I am an entertainer. I thought that much was obvious by now.”

“Oh! Like a comedian or a magician?” Edd asked, taking a sip of his cola next to balance out the alcohol in his system.

Reagan grinned slyly. “Not that type of entertainment, silly Eddie. I mean that I am a stripper.” His smile grew wider as Edd choked and spat out his drink. He burst into a fit of laughter and slammed his hand repeatedly on the counter. “Haha! Oh man, you should’ve seen the look on your face! Haha!” He wiped away a stray tear from his eyes.

“H-ha- haha yeah.” Edd laughed weakly whilst coughing. He could feel his throat burn badly from the intensity of choking on soda. He beat his own chest a couple of times to clear the airways. “G-good one.”

Reagan’s laughter died away. “But seriously though, I can’t tell you what it is.” He told the brunet. “I would if it were up to me, but since it is kind of a work policy not to reveal it out in public, I can’t.”

“Woah, are you a secret agent of some kind?”

“Can’t quite answer that either – It goes against the company’s policy, remember?” Reagan shrugged and laughed, teasing the Brit further.

They went back to drinking and chatting merrily. Reagan kept urging Edd to drink more and more, making the brunet relax and put down the sealed tight, steel walls he surrounded himself in. The Irishman payed very close attention to Edd’s ramblings about his life; especially the part concerning his friends and his fears of losing every single person he ever cared about, and how he won’t be able to stand if anything happened to the ginger doofus.

All that vital information Reagan saved away for later reference.

[wolfsgravity]

I wrote a weird Hurt/Comfort type short fic with my S/I and Howl.

It’s like 2.6k words, which is pretty long for my attention span lmao.

We’re at a household dinner, all of us eating together. At one point when we’re all nearly full, Calcifer makes a simple comment on how long days can seem sometimes. I duck my head, assuming it’s at least in part my fault, and murmur a quiet, “Sorry you’ve got to make up for my magical inadequacies. I know shooting down my dumb magic all day must get tiring.”

While most of the table exchanges looks of pity, Calcifer fire-shrugs with a little smile. “Actually, your magic is hardly ever a problem anymore. You’ve made a lot of progress since we took you in, and I can tell you’ve been working hard by how few pings go out nowadays. Howl’s a great teacher, but you’ve learned fast for a late-bloomer.”

Howl especially notices the beaming smile that grows across my face. How I sit a little taller, like a weight has been lifted. He sees a faint shimmer in my eyes before I rub my face, muttering an “Oh shucks, you don’t need to say all that”. All the while, his heart swells with… pride?

As conversation goes on, Howl is contemplative. His eyes are casual, but he finds his attention drawn back and forth between me and Sophie. He’d only known love as he’s felt it for Sophie, but what he suddenly realizes he feels for me is eerily similar, yet holding its own charm. In a sudden movement, he stands, bringing the chatter to a stop as he silently stalks away.

Calcifer is the first to break the momentary silence. “I haven’t seen Howl storm off like that in a while. But I guess that’s his capriciousness as always.”

But it sticks with me. And Sophie as well.

The difference between Sophie and I is that she’s task-oriented. I tend to wallow. So as she busies herself with cleaning dinner and bustling upstairs to check on Howl, I help as much as she allows before heading off to my own room. As I lay on my bed and stare at the ceiling, those thoughts of being ruinous return, though this is the first time in a few months I could even justify such thoughts. What if Calcifer missed a ping? Have I ruined my own happy home? No. Give it time. Sophie can help him.

Two more days pass, and Howl is physically and emotionally absent. Most time he spends in his own room, coming down for sporadic meals. Calcifer seems to think it’s only a spurious mood, Sophie is busying herself with housework, and the other members of the household go on as usual, perhaps sharing glances when Howl appears as if to say Let’s not ask.

Sophie visits him, getting no real answers from him as to the source of this mood. He’s sweet as always to her, but she sees the gears turning behind his eyes. Finally, during the third night, she decides to get more to the point. She sits next to him on his bed, and as he lays a hand on hers, she simply states,

“You will tell me what’s been on your mind.”

Howl sighs. As if by compulsion, he begins to open up.

“Sophie, I know I’ve been moping, and I do wish I could stop. But..” he pauses, “it’s about Remington.”

“Are you worried about their magic progress?”

“No, no, it’s not that.” He chews the inside of his cheek and looks into one heavily patterned wall of his room. “You know how I love you so deeply, Sophie?”

“Of course, Howl. I’d never doubt that for a second.”

“I’m.. scared. Because, though I love you no less, I think.. I may have fallen for Remington as well. And I don’t wish to send them away, but I may have to.”

Sophie, of all things, laughs quietly.

Howl groans, gripping her hand tighter. “This is a very serious subject, Sophie. I don’t want to lose the life you’ve helped me find through your love and devotion. I just… can’t bring myself to tell Remington to leave.”

“Then don’t.”

Finally, Howl looks at Sophie’s face again, seeing a gentle stare in return. She leans forward and kisses Howl, his shoulders relaxing from the highly tense state they were stuck in.

She leans her forehead against his and smiles easily. “I love you, Howl. You’ve grown so much since I got you your heart back. I appreciate your concern for me, I truly do, and it cements further how confident I am in us. Remington is a lovely person, and I’m happy with them being here however you’d like them. I trust you to never lose your love for me, and I would hope you’d trust the same of me.” Then she grins, “Anyways, maybe having two of us would make you less of a handful.”

Howl blinks owlishly as she speaks, heart racing with two kinds of love in a wonderful dance. Slowly, he smiles and kisses Sophie deeply. “You truly are an angel.”

What they don’t know is that the very apprentice they’re talking about has packed what they could in a heavy backpack. I don’t know of this conversation, all I can think is I somehow ruined everything again, and to save the house I’ve come to love, I must leave. I tiptoe my way to the main exit, not even caring where the door will lead me. I hear a quiet question from the hearth.

“You’re blaming yourself, huh?”

Calcifer looks open but sad. His flame is small, as the house can rest at night, but he’s awake as ever.

“I’m tellin’ ya, he used to have these moods a lot, so I’m sure it’s not you, kid.”

I sigh, the sadness of this whole situation clawing at my throat. “Calcifer, I can’t.. I can’t stay here if there’s a chance I’ll ruin your happy family. Intentionally or not.”

He pauses and, his voice barely audible over the crackle of his own fire, says, “This is more than fear over your magic, isn’t it?”

I don’t answer, eyes threatening to spill over.

“Remington, I wish I could say something comforting right now, I really do. But I’m not blind, your… affection for Howl… can’t work out. And I can’t even say I wish it could.”

I whimper. “It’s pathetic, I know.”

“Not pathetic, but definitely sad. I haven’t had access to his heart since all that stuff went down almost 2 years ago, but when I did.. the way it beat for Sophie was unmatched. I don’t think that would ever change, nor do I want it to.”

“I don’t either,” I admit, tears falling in the dim light, “I love this place so much. I just… don’t want to stupidly ruin that for you guys. So I have to make my own way out there.”

Calcifer sighs, sinking into his embers a little. “I get that logic. Just know you’ll always have a home here with us.”

I hiccup as the reality of my choice washes back over me. I nod. “Thanks, Calcifer. Tell everyone I love them, okay?”

“Sure thing. Stay safe.”

With that, I tread into the darkness.

As the morning rises, so too does the household. Howl, bright and early, whisks down the stairs, in better spirits than the last half a week. Calcifer looks mildly uncomfortable as people gather in the kitchen for breakfast.

“Where’s that apprentice of mine?” Howl muses, sending Sophie a small smile, reinvigorated from their talk the night before. He wanted to get a little bit of magic practice in for them before he broached the topic of his absence with them.

Calcifer shifted amongst his fuel. “Remington, uh.. left.”

The room, despite the fire demon’s presence, runs cold. The ex-witch and the child both dip their heads sadly. Sophie’s face holds shock and fear as she keeps her gaze on Howl, who froze on the spot.

“They…left?”

“Yeah, erm… they were worried about the energy in the house… thought it was their fault. So they left.”

Sophie quietly piped in. “You didn’t try to stop them?”

Calcifer shrinks and squirms under the stares. “I did, but they wouldn’t listen. And I didn’t wanna keep them prisoner by closing the door to them. They did want me to pass on that they love all of us.”

Howl looks at Sophie, a confused and broken look on his face, and she hurries to his side. “Follow them.”

“The castle has moved, I wouldn’t know—“

“They are your apprentice, Howl. They don’t know how to cover their magic’s tracks, if the Witch of the Waste could track you using what little magic hints she had, I’m sure you can find the untrained magician. Go clear up this whole misunderstanding!”

He nods, life slowly coming back to his eyes as he strides to the door for his cloak and hat. The whole house watches in silence as he mutters to himself, a magnifying glass appearing in his hand. “This will help me find the traces of their magic.”

“Good, bring them home, okay?”

“I will.”

The two kiss and he departs.

He finds me after a day and night of searching. I truly wasn’t trying not to be found, but I traveled tirelessly by foot to reach some kind of field filled with grasses that reached hip-height at this time of year. There is a torrential rainstorm overhead, and though there is no thunder nearby, Howl feels a prickly static filling the air. Through the seeing glass, he can see massive swirls of yellow, pink, and purple energy surrounding the figure of his apprentice in the distance.

He tries calling my name a few times as he wades through the wet grass towards me, but my back is towards him and the rain is loud around us. He’s a few yards away when he finally gets my attention, the tension in the air lightening fractionally from my surprise as I turn around.

Howl stops his forward motion once I turn towards him, holding his hands out in gentle supplication. “Come home, sweetheart, let me explain everything when we get out of this storm.”

I wince visibly when he speaks, looking down and away. My voice carries flatly over the sound of the rain. “I figured out what I need to do, so please don’t stop me.”

The wizard tilts his head, taking a step towards me since I’m making no moves towards him. “Whatever you need to do, I promise we can all help.”

With a steely glare, I bite out, “I’m going to make a deal with a demon.”

Almost as though on cue, a distant roll of thunder can be heard. Howl’s face pales. “You— No! Absolutely not!”

I scoff, turning away from him and beginning to walk. “You can’t stop me, Howl.”

The air begins to thicken again, and real fear settles into Howl’s frame. He tries to run to close the distance between us, but finds himself fighting the grass for each step. He manages enough speed to almost get in arm’s reach, but as he reaches out, I yell, “I’m not going to stop, so cut it out!”

His heart drops as, mid-stride, I begin shakily lifting off the ground, breaking into a heightening sprint.

“Remington, please come back down!” He starts his own ascent into the downpour, but I’ve made my upward motion too uneven and unstable for him to keep up with. “Please, you’re not ready for this kind of levitation!”

“I don’t care!” I all but scream, tears starting to mingle with the rain pouring down my face. I stumble mid-air as my emotions nearly overwhelm me, but I keep my mad scramble up towards the clouds.

The wizard panics, feeling very real fear for me. I’m too high to fall safely, and he isn’t sure he could catch me in a pinch. “Remington, come back! Your heart is too important to barter away like I did!”

He hears a harsh laugh, followed by me mumbling, “I don’t fucking want it.”

At least that got me to stop, wobbling high up in the air. He makes his way closer to me as he keeps talking. “I know the idea of control and power for a quick deal is tempting, but you’ve been making such great strides on your own. Look at you! You’re flying so soon! I can’t just let you do something stupid like giving your heart away,”

I look at him, eyes puffy from crying, looking defeated. “I’m already pretty stupid with my heart, but at least this way, I’d be making the choice myself.”

He pauses, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

A sob wracks my body and I falter in the air, Howl shouting in alarm before I right myself and make another step upwards. “It doesn’t matter anymore, so I’ll tell you. I love you, and I hate myself for it.”

“Remington, I love you too, so please come down before you fall and we can go home—“

“I mean it, Howl.” I sniffle, “I love you more than I should. You took me into your home and I fell in love, and I’d rather sell this stupid heart than even imagine ruining your happy home.”

Howl smiles at me, the last expression I expect in the moment. My feet pause mid-step.

“I mean it the same way you do. I don’t know when it started, but I realized it when you were relieved of your worry of being a burden, even if it only lasted a short while because of my tantrum. I love your smile. I love how dedicated to your studies you can be. I love how Markl looks up to you and works that much harder for it. I love the way you toss things from one hand to the other—“

“No you don’t. You said that gives you a heart attack.”

“Because you did it with artifacts, without looking at what your hands were even doing. But you haven’t dropped a single thing doing that, and sometimes I see you looking at your hands afterwards like you’re proud of their dependability. I love seeing you gain confidence in yourself, and it makes me happy when it sticks instead of you devaluing yourself immediately.”

He finally reaches me, his hands cupping both of mine. My magic steadies beneath me at his touch.

“Sophie and I spoke about you, and we both want you to stay. I love you, and I’m so glad to hear you say the same. So let’s get down from here and go back to the castle, okay?”

I sniffle, calm now, but beginning to tire now that all the emotions came out. Slowly, I nod, forcing myself not to look down now that I think about how high up I’ve gotten. The rain lightens as he guides me to the ground, the both of us drenched, but smiling as we glance at each other. He leads us back to the castle, the path suspiciously shorter than it took to get out to the field in the first place.

As we step through the door, Howl calls out for Calcifer to get a bath ready, then looks at me and says, “You go first, I would hate for you to catch cold from all that.”

I silently nod, completely tuckered by now. Howl softly kisses my cheek, causing warmth to bloom where his lips touched my skin. There’s a commotion as everyone comes to greet us, but Howl fields them all as I make my way upstairs, given enough energy to warm myself in the bath. He’s waiting outside my bedroom door as I round the corner to go to bed, a warm smile on his features as he regards me.

“You seem happier now.” He states, making me smile. I give a small ‘Mhmm’, my eyes heavy with sleep. He wraps me in a comfortable embrace, my arms snaking around his back. “We have much to talk about tomorrow, but I wanted to see you before you retired tonight to tell you I love you. Sleep in as long as you’d like, you used a lot of magic today so I’m a little surprised you’re still standing.”

The hug ends naturally, Howl and I smiling at each other. Swiftly, he leans in to sweetly kiss my lips, before he says a ‘Goodnight’ and walks away.

I smile, a dopey look in my eyes, as I tiredly shuffle into my room. I unceremoniously dump myself onto my bed and almost immediately fall asleep.

[zennyshoneybunch]

Mystically Destined - The Musical (Chapter 11 - A Little Too Not Over You)

He had barely slept all night.

The conversation with Rika still weighing on him.

The mug of strong coffee was doing nothing to clear his head from all the thoughts running through his mind.

He wanted to do the right thing. Keep his promise to Rika and save her from herself and those depressive thoughts she had sometimes. But Vanderwood’s words were playing on repeat in his heart. Along with Lizzy’s face.

And he was afraid.

He was afraid of not being able to keep his word. Afraid of being too weak and selfish to the point of ruining everyone’s lives. All over an old flame. Oh, who was he trying to deceive? Lizzy was not just an old girlfriend, she was the one. He was still as much in love with her as he used to be when they were young. His heart was hers and it would still be hers long after it stopped beating.

With a sigh he ruffled his mint hair. It didn’t matter how much he wanted Lizzy back, he didn’t deserve her. He left. He allowed himself to be persuaded by his father. He got himself engaged to someone else. He was the cause of her broken heart and also her injured knee. He was the one to blame for the destruction of her life. He was the one at fault. He was a faulty person. He didn’t deserve her.

A noise by the kitchen door distracted him from his thoughts. Jumin walked in, pushing his hair back. V recognized the look in his friend’s eyes. It was the same he saw reflected in the mirror a few minutes earlier. The look of a man who spent most of the night starring at the ceiling.

- Good morning V. I see you’re up early too. Rough night?

- I could ask you the same thing, my friend.

With a tired sigh Jumin poured himself some coffee, gulping down a big part of it before pulling a chair and setting in front of V.

- I’ve been having… complicated thoughts.

- About Amanda?

Jumin spat the sip of coffee he was taking back into the mug. V tried his best to keep an angelic smile on his face when his friend glared at him seemingly unamused.

 - About the charity, yes.

V chuckled as Jumin whipped traces of the dark liquid from his chin.

- I am sure everything will be fine, Jumin.

- I’m glad you’re so confident. What about you? What kept you up?

Jumin asked, noticing his shirt had coffee stains on it. Thinking about how he should answer that, V grabbed his mug only to realize it was already empty and pondered if he should have more or not.

- Are you not going to tell me what happened yesterday?

Jumin’s question stopped him from getting up from his seat. His friend’s arrival provided a distraction from the restless thoughts going through his mind, but now he could feel them all rushing back.

He ran a hand through his face, feeling even more tired than he was a moment before.

- I have to marry her, Jumin.

Taking another sip, the raven haired man glanced at him from above the rim.

- From the look on your face I gather you mean Rika.

- She basically threatened to end her own life if I left her.

- I see. And you think she would go through with it?

V played with his mug distractedly.

- I don’t know.

A heavy silence fell between them.

Jumin seemed to be deep in thought, probably weighing on V’s words. There was nothing to think over though. There was only one thing to do. And that was to marry Rika.

Jumin was the first to break the silence.

- The truth is I don’t think you should be the one responsible for Rika’s safety. If there is a risk of her harming herself, then she should seek professional help. I don’t think sacrificing yourself and your happiness to become some kind of hero to her is the answer and it may work as the exact opposite and ruin both your lives.

The mug almost fell from his hands so he set it quietly on the table.

That… actually made sense. Could his friend be right?

Maybe… maybe he didn’t have to take the responsibility of being her sun anymore. Maybe he should step aside and allow her to find the sun in herself and fight the dark thoughts, like… like Lizzy. Strong, beautiful, amazing Lizzy.

But… even if he could end his engagement she wouldn’t take him back, surely. She fought her depression, yes, and she was in speaking terms with him again, but… he still didn’t deserve her. He still couldn’t forgive himself for all the things he did, he couldn’t…

- ...Ask for her love back.

He didn’t notice he had spoken out loud until he felt Jumin’s hand on his forearm. His grey eyes looking straight at him.

- You will never know if you stay here sulking instead of fighting for it.

Trying to lighten up the mood and mask his own embarrassment, he smiled, even though the smile he had on his lips was a sad one. 

- Since when have you become an expert on matters of the heart, Jumin?

- I’ve been reading a book entitled “Destiny and Soulmates”. And since we are mentioning it, it seems that finding the love of your life ten years later in a completely strange city can be considered as a stroke of fate. According to it.

V blinked a few times not sure about how to react to the sudden change of subject. But Jumin’s serious face while saying such an out of character thing was enough to lightened the mood and make him crack an actual smile.

- Why are you reading that?

- I read about many subjects. Is that all you retained from what I’ve told you?

- No…

V avoided his eyes, feeling embarrassed again.

- Well, perhaps you should think about that, because, as strange as it may be, there seems to be a strong connection between the two of you. You spent 10 years apart. Common sense tells me any feelings you had shared so long ago and for such a short period of time should have dissipated, and yet here you are: hiding from your fiancé in my house, barely able to sleep and struggling. I wish I could understand.

V wished his friend never needed to understand all the pain, guilt and regret he felt and was still feeling. He wished his friend would never have to suffer the way he did and that the only love he ever experienced was the true and happy kind with someone he could be with without reservations.

Jumin leaned forward on the table, calling for his attention again.

- Can you tell me? What have you felt… what does it feel like to be away from the person you love?

He stopped for a moment, unsure if he had heard him correctly. The seriousness of his face and voice told him Jumin was truly curious, even though he was not sure about the reason for such curiosity.

He pretended he was thinking about it, but the truth was he knew the answer all too well since, as his friend pointed out, he had been feeling it for the last ten years.

Distractedly, he started to play with the mug again.

- I think… it is like there is no air. You cannot breathe properly and you are gasping, unsure of how you will survive, or even if you will survive, until she walks in the room and you see her face again. And the mere sight of her brings you life.

He watched as Jumin silently pondered about his words with a serious face. Then he straighten himself up and looked at him with a little smirk.

- No air, you say… just as I thought, love sounds like a horrible thing.

V chuckled and Jumin stood up, pulling his stained shirt from his pants, so he could go change it.

He was about to walk through the kitchen door, when V called him, making him stop and look back.

- Do you really think I should be selfish and fight for my own happiness?

Jumin thought for a moment before he cryptically answered.

- I think doing the right thing is not always the right thing to do.

Without another word he walked out of the kitchen, leaving V alone again with his thoughts. Only… this time he had a smile on his face. And for some reason that he was sure had nothing to do with the coffee, he was feeling less tired and more cheerful than he was before. 

She had barely slept all night.

The bags under her eyes could be well covered with Lucy’s nice and expensive makeup, but they were there as proof of her restless night.

Lying awake, tossing and turning, haunted by thoughts and images of Jihyun and Rika. Or waking up with cold sweats after dreaming of Jihyun in pain and bleeding while Rika’s low chuckles rang in her ears, whenever she managed to fall asleep.

Yes, it was not a well-rested night and the strong hot tea she drank did nothing to calm down or warm up her tired body. No one who saw her striding along the street would say she was tired though, judging by her fast steps, leading her to the pub. But those weren’t an indicator of energy, they were an indicator of nervousness due to the events of the night before.

Yes, she was scared. Scared of falling back into depression and her rage fits. But most of all she was scared of facing Jihyun again and realizing Rika was right all along. The last thing she wanted was to trouble or hurt him in any way.

She was scared of facing him, but there was a part of her that also wanted to see him, to make sure her nightmare was only, indeed, a nightmare. To make sure he was okay.

She looked at her wristwatch. It was early – way too early – to start her shift, but maybe Saeran would be there already and she would have some distraction or some calming piano music to guide her mind and body back to normal. Listening to Saeran playing the piano was always so soothing, like being enveloped in a warm blanket surrounded by flowers and candle lights. And she enjoyed watching his long fingers dash through the ivory keys. His beautiful mint green eyes so concentrated in what he was doing, as if the entire world faded when he played. She used to think like that too when she danced. Although, unlike Saeran, she always had a smile on her lips. Unlike Saeran she had no ghosts haunting her then.

When she arrived at the pub she found it quiet and locked. She had a key now so she used it to get inside.

- Vanderwood?

She called, but no answer came to find her. No one was there yet. Maybe it was for the best. There would be no soothing music, but at least she had some time to breathe and calm herself before seeing anyone. Saeran was sharp, he would definitely notice something wasn’t right if he saw her right now.

Taking a deep breath she walked to the back of the pub to set her things in the back room. Everything was crystal clean and tidy back there. Did Amanda clean it? Or was it Vanderwood? He seemed to have a little bit of an OCD when it came to have everything neat and organized. More than once she saw him rearrange the position of the tables after she had cleaned them. It was probably why he was so against all the flowers hanging on the ceiling. It probably looked like a big mess to him.

Lizzy smiled to herself. He gave this air of being a badass, could-kill-you-only-with-my-pinky kind of guy, but he was actually this… housewife-cleaning-fairy. That was kind of cute.

Walking out of the back room, Lizzy headed for the bar to look for an apron. Since she was there early she could do some deep cleaning around the place. Maybe later she would take down all the decorations and give the place a more neat appear-

- Oh, hey!

The male voice sounding right behind her made her jump in surprise, turning briskly around to meet two smiling ruby eyes.

- Z-Zen!!!! Oh my God! You scared me half to death.

- Oh, I’m sorry Lizzy. I didn’t mean to surprise you like that. I thought no one was here yet. Are you okay?

She smiled nervously.

- Yeah. I’m okay. Why are you here so early?

- We have this important Charity Event coming this weekend so we’ll start rehearsing earlier until then. Besides I forgot my wallet yesterday so I came to get it and grab some late breakfast. But… isn’t it too early for you to start your shift?

- Yes, I… was actually nearby and I thought maybe Saeran was already here practicing on the piano, so I just walked over.

The smile disappeared from Zen’s face giving way to a cute pout.

- You mean, you came to look for Saeran and not me, the handsomest member of the band?!? I’m hurt!

Lizzy tried to laugh at the joke, but it didn’t sound cheerful at all. Zen took a few steps closer to her, placing a friendly warm hand on her shoulder with a worried expression on his gorgeous features.

- You look tired, Lizzy.

- Oh? I thought I had applied my makeup the correct way…

- It’s not that, I just have a way of reading people. Are you sure you’re feeling alright? Did I scare you that much?

- No! Not at all, I just couldn’t sleep very well last night.

- Was there… something on your mind?

She pondered on the possibility of telling Zen everything. He was always so nice and sweet. She could tell him about Rika’s visit and ask for his opinion as a friend. Ask what he thought of her, what he thought about her relationship with Jihyun, what he thought about Jihyun’s feelings… no. She obviously couldn’t ask him any of it, it would sound way too strange and creepy for sure, like she was thinking about trying something to break them apart or something like that. But… she was so worried, her nightmare invading her thoughts again, and before she knew what she was doing, her tongue did the job her brain was telling her not to.

- What do you think about Rika?

- V’s Rika? Oh, I mean… hum…

He looked embarrassed. Maybe she really shouldn’t have asked.

- Yes, V’s Rika. Is she… a good person, you think?

- Well…

He thought about it for a moment before he met her eyes again.

- I don’t really know her that well, but she always seemed nice to me. I never heard her say a cross word to anyone, so… I suppose she is a good person?

The girl that visited her the night before didn’t look so nice though. But Lizzy couldn’t tell him that now, could she? She couldn’t poison him against Rika. That was Jihyun’s soon-to-be wife.

- That’s good then.

- Are you worried about V?

- Yes, well, as a friend I want him to be happy you know?

She answered fidgeting with the apron’s strings, making sure not to meet his eyes.

- Of course. Is that why you couldn’t sleep last night?

Well he was sharp too wasn’t he?

- No, of course not. That was just insomnia kicking in.

He didn’t seem very convinced about it, worry still written all over his face.

- You know, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but… I’m here for you if you do. No matter what or whom it is about.

Lizzy gave him a small smile and a nod. She could never tell him, but he didn’t have to know that. And he looked happy with her answer, smirking with glee.

- Now… you already know what you need when you’re feeling down, right?

- You mean…

- I sure do!

Zen ~ “Let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

A giggle formed in Lizzy’s throat and she couldn’t avoid letting it out.

Zen ~ “You got the healing that I want.”

He moved away from her pushing two tables together and extended his hand to her.

Zen ~ “Just like they say it in the song, until the dawn, let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on”.

She took his hand and he pulled her to him, pointing at the tables and winking at her.

Zen ~ “We got this king size to ourselves. Don't have to share with no one else.”

He lifted her up by the waist and placed her sitting on the table, leaning in dangerously close in a seductive manner.

Zen ~ “Don't keep your secrets to yourself, it's karma sutra show and tell”.

With a laugh she pushed him away and he started slowly circling the tables like a panther circling his prey, looking her in the eyes.

Zen ~ “Woah, there's loving in your eyes that pulls me closer”.

She watched him as he moved, spinning her body on the table to keep looking him in the eyes and sliding her legs all the way to the other side when he approached her again.

Zen ~ “It's so subtle, I'm in trouble, but I'd love to be in trouble with you”.

He held one of her hands, sweetly moving a strand of hair away from her face with his free one.

Zen & Lizzy ~ “Let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on”.

Vanderwood was going in but turned immediately around and went right out again, shaking his head and mumbling something about weird people singing and dancing all the damn time.

Zen ~ “You got the healing that I want. Just like they say it in the song, until the dawn.”

Zen & Lizzy ~ “Let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

He helped her down from the table.

Zen & Lizzy ~ “You got to give it up to me. I'm screaming mercy, mercy please.”

She turned her back to him and slowly walked around the joined tables.

Zen & Lizzy ~ “Just like they say it in the song, until the dawn, let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

She turned to look at him with flirty eyes, still moving away slowly.

Lizzy ~ “And when you leave me all alone. I'm like a stray without a home. I'm like a dog without a bone, I just want you for my own.“

She called him with a movement of her finger and winked at him.

Lizzy ~ “I got to have you babe.”

Zen pretended to faint and fall to the ground, immediately getting himself on his knees and slowly crawling to her with feline movements.

Lizzy & Zen ~ “Woah, there's loving in your eyes that pulls me closer.”

He slowly and sensually straightened himself up in front of her, caressing every inch of her with his eyes.

Lizzy & Zen ~ “It's so subtle, I'm in trouble, but I'd rather be in trouble with you.”

He pulled her to him with one arm. Connected only by their eyes and a hand on each other’s waist they slowly moved as if away from each other, dancing in a small circle, their other arms falling straight at their sides.

Zen ~ “Let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on. Ooh baby, I got that healing that you want, yeah.”

Lizzy ~ “Just like they say it in the song, until the dawn, let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

With a smile he grabbed her waist again with both hands and lifted her to stand on the tables, immediately jumping on it himself with the help of a chair.

Lizzy & Zen ~ “Let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on. You got the healing that I want.”

He grasped her hand again and they started to dance using some sort of dangerous side-to-the-side slower Jive steps, laughing and making silly faces all the while.

Lizzy & Zen ~ “Just like they say it in the song, until the dawn, let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on, babe. You got to give it up to me. I'm screaming mercy, mercy please. Just like they say it in the song, until the dawn, let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

He let go of her and jumped down to the floor so he could help her down gently into his arms. And then he dipped her, both laughing happily.

Lizzy & Zen ~ “Just like they say it in the song, until the dawn, let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on. Ooh.”

They were both panting and smiling. Zen pointed at her lips.

- And this is The Marvin Gaye Effect.

Light-hearted laughter was all that could be heard inside the pub, and Lizzy couldn’t be more thankful for it.

Jihyun was by the window feeling like a creep for watching Lizzy and Zen dancing and having fun together, but unable to look away from the couple.

He was right all along. Lizzy did not love him anymore. She was falling for Hyun. And why shouldn't she? He was attractive and a good guy... surely more worthy of her feelings. He would treat her right and make her happy. Like Jihyun never did.

He knew all that and he knew he had no right to feel jealous, but he could not help it. It felt like someone was ripping through his chest, crushing his heart. His mind was telling him that was for the best, while his heart was bleeding deeply.

He closed his eyes, tearing them away from their happy faces, and stumbled off to the street.

~ “Oh… It never crossed my mind at all, it's what I tell myself. What we had has come and gone, you're better off with someone else.”

He turned away from the pub, trying to avoid the couple, only to find the street filled with couples, all well dressed in smokings and long flowy chiffon dresses.

~ “It's for the best, I know it is, but I see you sometimes I try to hide what I feel inside.”

He tried to step away from them, but they were all around him.

~ “And I turn around, you're with him now, I just can't figure it out.”

All the boys lifted their dates in the air. Then setting them down, they whirled around together before lifting them again and resume whirling around. Jihyun found himself surrounded by pretty colored dresses, flowing up and down all around him.

~ “Tell me why you're so hard to forget, don't remind me, I'm not over it. Tell me why I can't seem to face the truth. I'm just a little too not over you.”

Glancing at the pub, he could almost make out Lizzy’s shape through the windows.

~ “Not over you. Ooooh.”

A girl with strawberry blond hair in a simple summer green chiffon dress walked right in front of him, getting his attention. He followed her, hoping against hope that she could be Lizzy.

~ “Memories, supposed to fade. What's wrong with my heart? Shake it off, let it go. Didn't think it'd be this hard.”

He snatched her arm and she turn around, surprised. But she was a complete stranger. He backed away, his hands up in an apologetic sign, and turned around.

~ “Should be strong, moving on, but I see you sometimes I try to hide what I feel inside. And I turn around, you're with him now, I just can't figure it out.”

He approached the pub’s window again, placing his hand against it, trying hard not to watch how Lizzy was smiling at Zen.

~ “Tell me why you're so hard to forget, don't remind me, I'm not over it.”

Turning around from them, he leaned his head against the window with his eyes closed, his brows furrowed with the pain.

~ “Tell me why I can't seem to face the truth. I'm just a little too not over you.”

He walked away from the window. All the well-dressed couples were still dancing, lifting and twirling and exchanging dance partners and he walked to them, distractedly dancing, lifting and twirling, any girl in pretty colored dress that came in his way.

~ “Tell me why you're so hard to forget, don't remind me, I'm not over it. Tell me why I can't seem to face the truth. I'm just a little too not… Tell me why you're so hard to forget, don't remind me, I'm not over it. Tell me why I can't seem to face the truth.”

Placing the last girl back on the ground, he shoved his hands down his pockets and moved away from the couples, towards the pub’s door.

~ “And I really don't know what to do. I'm just a little too not over you.”

He slowly reached for the doorknob. His chest hurt but it was time to face the truth.

~ “Not over you, oohhh.”

He grabbed the doorknob pausing for a breath before turning it. He shouldn’t give Zen dirty looks. He shouldn’t try to pursue Lizzy. He should be happy for them. He would be happy for them. He should… be happy for them.

With a swift movement of his wrist he opened the door and stepped inside.

 *** Chapter Songs ***

Marvin Gaye by Charlie Puth ft. Meghan Trainor

A Little Too Not Over You by David Archuleta

[jordan202]

My Boys Drabbles - Lucas (Part Three)

Here goes a fast update! Thank you everyone from the amazing responses I’ve been getting with this story. @jia911 you were an angel, as usual!

If you need to catch up on previous parts, the links are HERE.

My Boys Drabbles – Lucas (Part Three)

Amelia tapped her foot uncontrollably, trying to contain her anxiety. She had been up before six that morning and the three hours that separated her waking hour from the scheduled appointment to get an ultrasound felt like a lifetime.

Even though Amelia was having regular appointments with the chief obstetrician at the hospital, she reported mostly to Addison, engaging in weekly conversations over the phone with her friend. Now, Amelia was at thirteen weeks, and it would be the first time she would see her baby ever since they’d first gotten the exam that had confirmed her pregnancy.

Owen sat still by her side, his expression of serenity unaltered. Amelia knew he was tense because of the vein pulsating on his forehead and his clenched jaw, but even though he was broodier than usual, he had spent the first hours of the morning making an effort to make her feel calm and at ease.

She attributed his unusual seriousness to anxiety too. Amelia knew that Owen was probably just as scared as she was about the ultrasound results, but he was being tough for the two of them. The fact that Owen took the responsibility of being the rock that kept them grounded made Amelia admire and appreciate him even more.

“Are you nervous?” She asked with a sweet voice, reaching out for his hand.

Owen had been distractedly examining the wall, looking lost in his own thoughts, but at the sound of her voice he immediately shifted his attention. Holding onto the hand she was offering, he gave it a gentle squeeze before smiling at her:

“I am sure everything is alright.”

Amelia noticed he didn’t exactly answer her question, but she didn’t push it, knowing it was harder for him to open up about fears and insecurities. At exactly 9 am, the radiology technician walked into the room and kindly instructed Amelia on how she would proceed with the exam.

Those few seconds between applying the gel and correctly positioning the ultrasound probe to get a clear image felt like the longest of Amelia’s life. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until, at the image of a perfectly healthy baby, her eyes swelled with tears and she found it harder to breathe.

“There it is…” The technician cheerfully spoke, completely oblivious to how tense those two parents really were with the result of that exam. “There is the spinal column, the head, heartbeat looks strong…”

But everything else the woman rambled on wasn’t assimilated by Amelia because all she could focus on was the image of the perfect miniature human moving on the screen. Her healthy little baby wouldn’t stop making jerky movements, flexing its tiny arms and legs as if bouncing around. It was still too early for her to feel any of that, but what really caught Amelia’s attention was the presence of every vital organ.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the screen and didn’t notice that Owen had leaned over until he planted a kiss on her temple, also letting out a deep breath. Instantly, Amelia turned her head sideways and when their eyes met, a profound smile of utter happiness and relief was born on both of their faces.

Amelia silently thanked every power in the universe for that amazing gift of life and laughed between tears observing her baby while the technician took notes and measurements.

“Everything is exactly how it should be,” The woman informed them with a polite smile. I’ll send these results to your ob and you can discuss it with him on your next appointment. Have you scheduled it yet?”

Amelia nodded affirmatively and gladly agreed when the woman asked if she wanted a copy of the exam to keep. Smiling from ear to ear, she left the exam room beside Owen, both looking at the black and white image of their perfect child.

“He looks so beautiful,” Amelia commented with a happy smile, even though rationally she knew there was absolutely no way she could judge beauty in a colorless profile picture of their baby.

“He?” Owen winked mischievously, giving her a halfhearted smile.

“Well, it was just a way of speaking, really. That answer is going to be left for the following sonogram,” Amelia cheerfully replied, unable to stop staring at her baby.

“I can’t wait,” Owen said with a grin and when Amelia looked up at him, she couldn’t help wondering if he really had that shadow of sadness behind his eyes, despite all the sincere happiness he’d showed about their baby. “So, I’ll see you at home?”

Amelia nodded yes with her head and watched as Owen bent over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before walking away. Even though he was very affectionate at home, Owen was a very private guy, not very inclined to gratuitous public displays of affection. Still, he was usually warmer when greeting or saying goodbye to her and Amelia wondered if she was being too sensitive about his attitude.

But when her eyes once again met the image she still held in her hand, Amelia’s thoughts completely vanished, focusing entirely on their child again and the incredible notion that her baby was as healthy as it could be.

.

For the following week, Amelia tried to convince herself she was seeing too much into things, but truth was that Owen felt more distant and quieter by the day. Initially, she had imagined his behavior had to do with anxiety about finding out about their baby but after careful thinking, she realized he had started acting quite not like himself after the eve of their ultrasound day, when they’d had a heartfelt conversation about their fears.

If Amelia were to be truly honest, the talk had mostly been about her fears. She hoped that insight would help her figure out where Owen’s mood change was coming from but after carefully replaying their conversation in her head, she still couldn’t. At first, her husband had opened up and admitted he wasn’t used to relinquishing control, which was something she already knew. Then he’d gone on to tell her he was trying to control his bossy manners in the best way he could. After that, most of the conversation had been about her own traumas and bad experiences.

Amelia knew about Owen’s loss of a child because months before, when they’d been flying back from Los Angeles after she’d run away, he had shared about that painful moment in his life. So Amelia completely understood his fear about whether or not he would get to be a father to that baby she was carrying. She expected that especially after seeing her latest sonogram, his excitement would only increase. But even though Owen was all smiles when talking about the baby, he had been acting more careful than ever when it concerned her. Even physically, he had been more distant. Amelia wondered if her husband realized how uncomfortable he looked when she approached him. The notion had devastated her.

Amelia was completely on board with the idea of them talking things through every time something was off and she had truly believed Owen was willing to live through that philosophy too, considering he had been the one to suggest it several times in the past. She had grown to believe their level of intimacy was at its best, but clearly Owen still had something he wasn’t sharing with her.

Determined to make him talk about whatever it was that was bothering him, Amelia left the hospital a little earlier that afternoon. She knew her talents as a cook were limited and settled for picking up dinner on her way home instead. Knowing Owen’s preferences, she chose his favorite dishes on purpose, hoping it would lighten his mood enough to maybe make him more comfortable to talk.

But Owen stayed quiet through most of the meal, opening his mouth mostly to thank her for taking care of dinner that evening. Then he asked his standard questions about how she was feeling and how her day in the OR had been. Realizing she couldn’t take that heavy atmosphere lurking around them anymore, Amelia decided to take the first step.

“You know, I’ve noticed you’ve been a bit off lately,” She carefully initiated the subject, hoping he wouldn’t get too defensive. “I have this feeling that something is bothering you and yet you don’t seem to want to talk about it. Should I be worried?” Amelia asked, hoping with all her heart that he would be honest with her.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Owen smiled at her, but deep down he knew that smile wasn’t genuine. He couldn’t confess to Amelia what kind of thoughts had been haunting him lately. It would just make him look pathetic and she deserved better, especially in a moment as special as the one they were sharing. “Are you done eating? I got the dishes.”

Amelia watched in silence as he broke eye contact with her and quickly got up, keeping himself busy with taking their plates to the kitchen. She stood still for a while and didn’t notice her hand reflexively rested on her belly while she carefully considered how to assess the situation.

“You know,” She let out a heavy sigh, giving up completely on rationalizing what she was going to say. As usual, she would just let the words come from the heart. “I think it’s really unfair to me that you demand I talk to you whenever I’m worked up about something and yet you won’t do the same when it’s you that has a problem.”

Owen had his hands inside the sink as he scrubbed a glass with his back turned to her. He absorbed the meaning of her words and carefully processed them, taking a deep breath before turning around to meet her gaze.

“I am not worked up about anything, Amelia,” He lied. “I am just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well the past week and I am just more stressed than usual. I’m sorry if I’m taking it out on you. I didn’t realize I was.”

She stared back at him obviously not buying his excuse and it broke Owen’s heart to notice the sharp pain in her eyes when she figured he was refusing to talk. Judging what he knew about her, it probably meant she was looking for fault in herself to justify just why Owen wouldn’t talk to her. He kept his firm attitude and watched as she walked away slowly, mumbling something about emailing Addison the results of her latest blood work.

Amelia spent the rest of the evening sitting on the couch with her laptop propped on her knees, typing and reading while Owen watched TV. It wasn’t uncommon for them to sit in silence next to each other, but in that moment there was some previously inexistent tension in the air. Amelia noticed it too, and it didn’t take her long to get up with some excuse as to why she was retiring to bed earlier that night.

Owen watched with a constricted heart as his wife walked past him, only nodding her head after wishing him goodnight. She hadn’t kissed him as usual, probably because she knew he was keeping distant. For minutes, Owen stayed in front of the TV with the remote in his hand, but his mind wasn’t assimilating anything the reporter on the news was saying.

Instead, he was debating with himself if he would ever find the strength to share his insecurities with his wife. The truth was, Owen didn’t want to talk about it because his own feelings embarrassed him. It was stupid and totally irrational to compare himself with the memory of a person, not to mention completely unproductive. And at the same time, Owen knew Amelia was probably hurting with being left in the dark, possibly conjecturing about what was wrong with her when the truth was that the fault and weakness were entirely on him.

Unable to put up with that angst any longer, Owen violently turned off the TV and threw the remote aside, getting up from the couch to go to bed, even though he didn’t feel the least bit inclined to fall asleep. He entered the bedroom expecting Amelia to be resting already but he could tell her eyes were wide open, even though she was lying opposite with her back turned to him.

Owen sat on the edge of his side of the bed, taking a deep breath to control his feelings. He hated to feel that insecure, but he also hated to be putting the woman he loved and cared so much about through something she didn’t deserve. Amelia had already suffered enough being neglected all her life. The least she deserved was honesty.

“I did not divorce Cristina because she aborted my baby.”

Amelia heard the words breaking the silence in the room long after she’d felt Owen sitting on the other side of the mattress. It was clear he had been struggling and when she gently shifted to her side, searching for his face in the darkness, she heard his somber voice speaking on a deep note.

“I know you probably think I did. Maybe all the versions of my failed marriage you’ve heard from me or anyone else have that event as the trigger moment for our separation, but it wasn’t the real reason why I divorced her.”

Amelia slowly sat on the soft mattress, confused as to why Owen was bringing up that subject, but fairly certain there was a point to all of that.

“Truth is,” Owen turned around and for the first time their eyes met, even though the room was nearly engulfed in total darkness. “Our marriage probably wouldn’t have worked out even if she kept that baby,” He confessed, shaking his head defensively. “She never truly wanted to be a mother and if she had forced herself to it, I would have loved to have been a father but I believe I’d slowly grow to resent her for not being the person I wanted her to be. She never wanted a family. And it would maybe be too late to take a step back if we already had a child,” Owen debated, nodding his head in denial. “I don’t know, this is all just hypothetical but my point is,” He stared deeply into Amelia’s eyes. “I realize we wanted completely different things in life because our deepest wishes and priorities are completely opposite.” Owen breathed in and out slowly, hoping his wife was able to follow his trail of thought. “I am not saying there is a right or wrong, I am just saying there either is compatibility or not. And Cristina and I were completely incompatible.”

Amelia acknowledged the information with a head nod, showing she was keeping up with him. She was about to ask why he was telling her all of that when his voice resonated again:

“I have been through so much before and I truly believe these past experiences helped me become the person I am today, the same way I believe you also do. But the thing is, it took Cristina terminating a pregnancy for me to act on something I already had realized and even though it felt like it was too late at the time, today I see it wasn’t. I hesitated a lot at first because I had convinced myself I could make her change her opinions and desires, but once I truly let go and accepted I couldn’t, I saw I made the right decision. I’m glad I did it,” Owen nervously ran one hand through his hair and slowly moved on the bed so he could frontally face Amelia. “The thing is, before you and I hit it off, I was already past all of that. I had willingly walked away from it. But…” He hesitated, finally getting to the point he had been trying to reach, “even though I knew you met other people after you lost your loved one, you never chose to end that relationship.”

Amelia frowned heavily, wondering what in the world Owen meant by that. It was true she had never broken up with Ryan because they had been together when he’d died. But she didn’t see why it was relevant at that moment.

“Maybe,” Amelia interrupted his speech, confused about where he was trying to get. Was it possible that Owen was saying she still had unresolved feelings for a man that even though had meant a lot once, she hardly thought about anymore? “But it doesn’t change the fact that it’s a past relationship too. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Maybe it does,” Owen somberly replied, looking away from her. He knew it was fair to compare people but internally, he knew his marriage to Amelia had been an upgrade from his past. And he wasn’t sure she felt the same.

Amelia watched as he visibly struggled. Feeling like he needed incentive to resume speaking, she asked:

“What do you mean?” Her tone was sweet and free of judgment. “How could it matter now, Owen? We’re together. It’s just you and me now. No one else,” She reinforced, trying to show he was the only person who occupied her thoughts and a place in her heart.

“I make mistakes, Amelia.” Owen answered after longs seconds of heavy breathing. “I never mean to hurt you, but eventually, I will. Every now and then I will be angry or upset or hurt and I will say something that I’ll regret later. Or I’ll do something that will unintentionally cause you pain.” He hesitated but ultimately turned around again, facing her this time. “I will make mistakes.”

“Yes,” Amelia gave him a gentle head nod. “I know.” She assured him, moving closer to him on the bed. “I know all of that. I will too. That’s a normal part of any relationship.”

Once again, Owen stayed in complete silent, finally accepting her touch. Amelia noticed that he didn’t flinch or pull away when her fingers touched his arm and encouraged by that response, she came closer, touching her forehead to his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, babe?” She hoped to break down his defenses with sweet affection. Talking hadn’t worked so far because up to that point he had mostly rambled and ran in circles around the subject. Amelia was happy that he had shared everything he’d told her, but she still hadn’t found a concrete reason for his lack of peace of mind in the past days.  “Are you upset that I loved another man? Is that it?” She rubbed his arm affectionately, bringing her face up to look into his eyes.

“No,” Owen answered with honesty. “I’m actually…” He struggled, hating to feel so unusually vulnerable. “You once had this person in your life who has only made you happy and stayed by your side. You didn’t spend much time with him but judging from what I hear, he has never wronged you. That’s the parameter you have,” He embarrassingly listed, feeling a stabbing pain in his heart. “I am never going to be able to give you that, Amelia. I will never be perfect. And I can’t help but wonder if maybe at some point you will resent me for it like I resented someone once.”

Amelia looked deeply into his eyes, trying to see the whole picture and make sense of it.

The breaking point to send Owen to a distant place in their relationship had been exactly when they’d started discussing her previous relationship a few days before. Owen had asked her questions about her feelings and then he’d spent the following time quietly processing everything. He had told her about his ex wife and the abortion she’d had, something that had clearly affected him very much. Amelia knew Owen and she was sure that, because of his tendency of blaming himself, he would be asking where he’d gone wrong for his marriage to have collapsed, even if rationally he knew it was plain incompatibility. And then he’d hesitantly admitted that he wasn’t perfect and he was never going to be.

Amelia knew that and she appreciated it. Owen was usually strong and it was rare to see him admitting insecurities like that. She admired the fact he had shared them with her, especially knowing how much he dreaded opening up about his feelings. But he couldn’t really be afraid that she would resent him for not being Ryan. He was completely different and Amelia had a feeling that that was exactly what had drawn her to him in the first place.

“Do you remember what I said when I asked you to marry me?” Amelia held his face between her hands, looking deeply into his eyes. Owen’s expression was a mix of embarrassment and apprehension and she felt compelled to continue. “I said I wanted something real.” She reinforced the word, so he could get the meaning behind all of that. “I meant exactly what I said.”

Amelia leaned forward and Owen reflexively closed his eyes. She kissed his temple and his cheek before wrapping her arms around his neck, gently caressing the hair on the back of his head while she once again forced eye contact with him.

“I was once in a relationship with a person who was as sick as I was. I had no idea what it meant to have responsibility or a plan and neither did him. He wasn’t capable of taking care of himself, let alone taking care of a baby. Sure, he did everything I wanted,” Amelia admitted, feeling tears building in her eyes at the memory of how screwed up she had once been. “But I think neither of us had any idea what I needed.” She confessed, hoping with all her heart that Owen would acknowledge the importance of that. “I was so out of my mind all the time that everything felt like a blissful fantasy,” Amelia confessed. Before her dark moments in rehab, she’d spent most of her time with Ryan too high to tell apart what was real and what had been just euphoria caused by the drugs. “Those days are behind me, Owen. I don’t want to feel like that anymore,” She confessed, referring to the addiction induced state of mind.

“You’re okay now,” He reached out, wrapping one arm behind her waist to bring her closer.

“I am,” Amelia used his own logic to make him see it. “I am okay now. I don’t need you to do everything I want, Owen. Not that you would, anyway,” She smiled at him, because they both knew he wasn’t at all the kind of person who would enable her if he thought she was screwing up. He respected her too much for that. “I don’t want us to spend the entire day in bed making a million plans for the rest of our lives while we snort something between every two sentences. Because it feels so much better when we’re actually putting those plans into action,” Amelia grabbed her husband’s hand and took it to her belly in a very meaningful gesture. “When you go to bed at night and you hold me I know that I am going to wake up in the morning and you’re still going to be there,” She felt tears accumulated in her eyes. “I know that when I do something stupid such as picking up a tool of boxes or trying to set up a bed and setting it on fire, you are going to be there to stop me,” She added, making him laugh at the reference of the time she’d tried to get rid of termites by burning them and he’d forcefully taken the box of matches from her hands. “You not only make me happy, Owen, you make me feel safe,” She confessed, bending over to touch his forehead with hers, closing her eyes as she breathed him in, still feeling one of his hands on her lower abdomen. Safety was something Amelia had never experienced before and she could honestly say it was wonderful to be in that position. “And I know that you’re always going to be here for us,” She whispered, nudging his nose with hers affectionately. “I love how you take care of me, even when I complain that I don’t need it. It’s all a lie,” She let out a discreet chuckle, seeing he was relaxing too. “I wouldn’t change what we have for anything.”

Owen let out a breath he had no idea he’d been holding and buried his face on the crook of her neck, feeling his defenses being completely overtaken by her heartfelt confession. He loved that woman with all his heart and the fact that she had said with so much conviction that she was sure he would never fail to be there for her just made him promise to himself one more time that he would never let her down.

“I am sorry for being so pathetic about this whole situation,” Owen kissed her cheek, feeling her hands digging deeper through his hair. “I want more than anything to make you happy.”

“You already do,” Amelia looked at him affectionately, absolutely happy and relieved that he’d finally talked to her. Her relationship with Owen was the best she’d ever had in her life and for the first time, she felt like she had a shot at being happy and at peace. Owen had defects but she loved him with each one of them and Amelia wouldn’t change a thing about him. “You know what?” She slid her hands across the back of his head towards his jaw line and gently brushed her thumbs on his cheeks. “Don’t feel like you’re second best at anything because you’re actually the best thing that has ever happened to me.” She confessed with full honesty. “I knew that after being knocked over by life so many times I would finally get something good and I did because I found you. And I’m glad that we chose to give this a chance,” Amelia smiled with blissful honesty. That time, the feeling was not fabricated by narcotics, but instead, completely real. “And if I could choose again a hundred times, then a hundred times I’d choose you.”

Her words were Owen’s undoing and completely touched by the meaning of her words, he felt the purest emotions bursting inside of him as he captured her lips with his, crushing them with the intensity of his feelings.

“I don’t want there to be any secrets between us,” Amelia confessed when they pulled apart. She and Owen had grown a lot and he deserved to know that he was everything she’d always dreamed of. Amelia had made the mistake of running away on their wedding day and then again when she’d felt insecure about starting a family but she had come back both times because he was exactly what she wanted. Secrets led to doubts, which evolved to insecurity and that had caused her to run more than once. With Owen’s devoted support, Amelia had overcome all of that and she knew what they had was absolutely genuine and based on mutual trust.

“Me neither,” Owen smiled at his wife with a proud look on his face. She was the best person he’d ever met and yet she had no idea just how amazing she was. Not because she was self deprecating, but because Amelia was genuinely humble and kind. Her resilience and strength inspired him to want to be better too. “I love you,” He confessed, looking deeply into her eyes as he said the words.

“Me too,” Amelia snuggled up closer to him, enjoying that new level of intimacy that had been established between them. Without any secrets left, they were free to be exactly who they were, knowing they would be deeply appreciated by their truest versions. That was a feeling like no other.

“I just have one small correction to make, though,” Owen looked into her eyes as he laid down next to her, slowly caressing her body. Amelia noticed the change in his tone of voice and smiled, anticipating what was about to come. “We’re together but it’s not just you and me anymore,” His hand splayed on the small bump that was starting to show on her lower belly. “We have company now,” He said teasingly, rubbing her skin with devoted affection.

Amelia smiled widely and agreed with a head nod. Two had become three and she couldn’t help but thinking how amazing it was that love was able to multiply when you shared it.

Amelia placed her hand on top of his and smiled as she laid on her lower back, watching as Owen propped his head on his elbow to look at her while he admired their growing child.

“Do you think it’s a girl or a boy?” He asked with blissful contentment.

“I don’t know…” Amelia confessed with a wide smile. She didn’t really have a preference. All she cared about was that their baby was born healthy. “People have asked me that question saying that mothers usually have a good personal guess but to be honest I have no idea.”

“I wish it was one of each,” Owen randomly said with total honesty, making her crack up laughing.

“Are you insane?” Amelia asked with good mood, giggling when Owen bent over and kissed her belly. “Carrying one is already hard enough, I can’t imagine carrying two,” She smiled at him, noticing the spark of happiness in his crystal blue eyes. “One at a time, please.” The neurosurgeon added, completely oblivious to what the future held for them.

“Does this mean we’re having another one soon?” He brought his face up and returned her smile, unable to hide just how excited he was at the idea.

“What, we haven’t had this one yet and you’re already thinking of the next?” Amelia couldn’t contain her laughter, touched by his contagious joy.

“I want as many as you can give me,” He said with a charming smile, but deep down it was absolutely true and Amelia knew it.

“Then be ready for a full house,” She rolled over to his side, seeking his embrace as her own arms wrapped around him.

Owen rejoiced at the idea with his eyes closed as he settled against his wife, nestling his nose into her hair. The familiar scent of her vanilla shampoo numbed his senses and he rubbed her back gently as they lay together on the bed, snuggling close to each other.

He fell asleep with a smile on his lips, realizing that once again, talking to Amelia had paid off a great deal. Even though he would probably always still have a hard time connecting with himself long enough to understand what he was feeling and talking about it, Amelia had repeatedly proven to him that it was definitely worth it. He finally felt like there were no barriers or walls left standing between them. It was all out in the open now. Amelia had exposed her soul to him several times before and tonight he’d finally done the same. The result had been incredible.

And now, more than ever, Owen felt ready to embark full head on that amazing experience that parenthood surely was, absolutely certain that he had the right person on his side to share what would be the wildest and most fulfilling adventure of their lives.

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