toxicrelief

[toxicrelief]

Crawling Back to You

Chapter twenty-four

Synopsis: When was the last time you got to sleep in? It feels like it’s been years.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Chapter: 24/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW/CW: Rex Being an Endearing Idiot, OOC?? Fluff That’s Jarring Because of How Much Angst There Was That Led Up to This

Note: I promise I’m not intentionally slowing down uploads this much. I have been writing sections out of order, so I have a couple hundred words written for the next few chapters, and I’ve been rewriting earlier chapters because I think the writing was a little unnatural at points. I’m going back to college on August 26th, so I’m not sure what that’ll do for my productivity, but we’ll see! Trust I have no intentions of abandoning this fic <3

You aren’t sure how long you slept, only that you really, really, needed it. Your face feels warm; the inside of your eyelids have an orange tint that tells you the bedroom curtains are open. A small shiver runs through you as you pull the duvet up a little higher, effectively enveloping your shoulder. The remaining warmth of a half-remembered dream remains in the pit of your stomach. You could almost grasp it, but each passing second had you forgetting more and more. Traces licked at far reaches of your consciousness. It was- it had- well, it was about- shit. It left you behind, and the warm feeling left with it. Whatever it had been, it had been nice. Comforting. Groaning, you blindly reached for your phone that usually resided on your bedside table, only to feel…nothing.

Wait, the windows are open? Blinking a few times, your eyes come into focus. It’s bright outside, almost so bright it annoys you. The curtains are shifting in the gentle breeze that billows through the mesh. Dull sounds of distant traffic draw your attention as you shift your legs off the edge of the bed. There are no sounds of buildings collapsing or police sirens announcing the need for any extraordinary help. It just sounds exceedingly normal. Like the world as you know it isn’t on the brink of collapse twice a work week.

Another chill runs through you, sending goosebumps up your arms.  As you stretch, your eyes travel down to the floor to see disregarded pants and underwear. Your disregarded pants and underwear. This has your eyebrows pinching together; everything felt foggy. You’d had the kind of sleep you weren’t sure if it was the next day or the day after, let alone why you’d discarded your pants before sleeping.

An almost inaudible click has you jerking your sights towards the bathroom door behind you.

“Oh-! You’re awake- I was getting worried for a second there.”

Your brows must have raised so high they left your forehead because Rex was holding his hands out in front of him like you were going to start screaming at him. A small wince clouded his features as he smiled sheepishly. And just like that, the haze completely dried up. The night before- or whenever you had gone to bed, whatever day it was- Rex had-

You pull your duvet around you subconsciously as you remember you aren’t wearing anything beyond your upper half. A little silly after what he had been doing before- stop.

You feel your face start to heat and close your eyes. “Enjoy the shower?” It was all you could manage to spit out. The sight of him, slightly damp with one of your towels tied loosely around his waist, was not something you were willing to think much further on at this exact moment. But you were sure to mentally snapshot it for later.

“Yeah, actually-” His voice increases in pitch just enough at the end that you can tell he’s feeling just as apprehensive as you are. “I used your shampoo- sorry- and I think I probably smell like a girl now, but it’s whatever.” You stare at him. “Or I guess, like a…garden…or something?” He absentmindedly runs a hand through his hair, stopping at the nape of his neck.

“Probably.” You peep.

Silence.

“So-”

“I think-”

You both pause, leaving the air sterile again, but there’s an undeniable lightness to it. It doesn’t feel entirely awkward, although there’s no denial that that feeling is most definitely present. It feels strangely nonjudgment.

“You mind if I take one?” You gesture to the door behind him, biting back a tiny smile.

“Oh, shit- uh, yeah.” He awkwardly steps aside, gripping the edge of the towel as he shimmies away so it stays put. He pauses once he’s completely out of your way, then notices you aren’t standing up to go and jolts with realization. “Oh, right!” He steps outside your bedroom door and pulls it mostly shut behind him, and you swear you hear the sound of him slamming his forehead against his palm.

You stay in bed a few moments longer before slipping out of bed. The details were all coming back in pieces. His arrival at your door, your complete realization, the way his hand seemed to perfectly slot against the small of your back- okay, cold shower.

The bathroom is completely fogged up; perspiration had run down the mirror to reveal small slices of clarity in your reflection. After flipping on the fan, you step over the divider into the shower. Based on the general moisture level in the bathroom, he’s either been showering for ages, or at the most scalding level of heat. When you turn on the water, it hits you like ice, forcing the air out of your lungs and immediately waking you up completely.

“It’s not her I fell in love with.”

Another breath is forced out of your lungs, not caused by the briskness of the shower.

You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me-

--

“Well, there’s nothing in the fridge. So, if you’re hungry like I am, we should go out.” You run your hands through your hair, ignoring how it’s currently soaking through the neck of your sweatshirt.

“Nothing in the fridge? Really?” Rex was sitting on the couch (thankfully, now fully dressed), his feet propped up on the coffee table with one of your books in his hands. You tilt your head, peering over in an attempt to see which one.

“How often do you think I have time to eat here, man?” He stares at you, seemingly actually thinking it over, which has you turning away as you round the corner to the kitchen so he can’t see your smile. Finally finding your phone, you shove it in your pocket.

“Shit, you’re right.” His voice sounds out, and you hear him shift from his sitting position. After rolling your eyes at him, you grab your keys from the coffee table where you’d dropped them in your exhaustion the night before.

“Come on and start thinking of a place, or we’re having breakfast at Burgermart.” You gesture with your head towards the door, and he places the book down where your keys had been.

“It’s like three in the afternoon, I don’t think this would qualify as breakfast- and why are you saying it like that’d be a bad place to have breakfast?”

“Okay, never mind, I’m picking.”

“Are we walking?”

“I have a car, Rex.”

“Right.”

--

Any thought that the car ride might be uncomfortably quiet was immediately lost as you both started to argue about where to go. Rex complained that you’d gotten his hopes up for Burgermart, and you told him there was no way in hell you were having Burgermart for breakfast. To which he responded with a loud, borderline whiny: ‘You literally said that if I didn’t choose a place then-’

“I know what I said, I wasn’t being serious!”

You finally got him to agree to a local diner you had never visited but always wanted to. Something about going alone to a restaurant never seemed to sit well with you. It would show you too readily just how alone you were. Maybe you and Rae could start going to the restaurants around when she is better.

Rex had never looked so out of place in all the time you’d known him. He was wearing street clothes, but he was holding himself in such a way that it almost seemed like he was a really bad undercover agent.

“Stop being weird.” You glanced up from your menu to give him a weird look.

“I’m not being weird- do you think I’m being weird?”

“Obviously, I just told you to stop.”

He grumbles to himself, staring down at his own menu for a few short seconds before he looks back up at you. “Do you think everyone else can tell I’m being weird?”

“What?” You sigh, putting your menu down. You weren’t sure why you were even still looking; you already knew what you were going to get. It might have been because your head was spinning faster than a top, and part of you wondered if you stared directly at him for too long, he’d disappear. “Rex, what’s going on?”

His mouth opens as he watches a waiter pass by, then his eyes land on you, and he shuts it again, sitting a little taller. “Never mind.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing, never mind.”

You give him an odd look, which he seems to wilt a little under, not returning your gaze.

“Do we need to go?”

“No!” You jump at the sudden volume change, shooting a look around to see if anyone was looking. “I mean, no, sorry.”

“What the hell was that?” You spit out quietly. “Why are you apologizing so much? What is going on?”

He groans, closing his eyes and letting his head lean back against the back of the booth. “I haven’t… done this before.”

“Done what?” You laugh softly, shaking your head.

“Well- been on a date- I guess, I mean, I have, but not out to a restaurant, or even been to a restaurant. Outside of Burgermart, I mean I’ve been to bars but that’s not- That’s what this is, right?” He’s shifting again uncomfortably, his attention turning to the menu, but obviously not taking any of it in.

You nod quietly; you hadn’t thought that far ahead, but you suppose he is technically right. “Wait, there’s no way you’ve never been on a date, you were with Eve for how long?”

“A long time, but…” He seemed to be shrinking into his side of the booth a little. “We didn’t really go on dates. I spent the first year of our relationship hiding away in her room. And we were both stupid kids without any money. Any food we wanted, Eve just made- wait a minute- why didn’t she ever just make money?” He looked down at his hands like he was just now grasping how little they used the potential of her powers.

“So, you never once took her out?”

“I don’t want to shock you, since we’re on our first date and all, but I’m kind of an asshole.” He squinted at you, trying to ease the discomfort he was feeling.

“Oh really?” You smirked, rolling your eyes.

“But I am trying to be better. Emphasis on the trying.”

You could feel your expression softening, “I can tell.”

The two of you finally ordered. Rex got bottomless pancakes, which he had already gone through two servings of by the time you had gotten your food.

“You’re going to be so sick in like three hours.”

“No, I won’t. I have an excellent stomach.”

“Sure.” You laughed, taking a few bites of your own food. You ended up ordering the same thing you seemed to always gravitate towards when you went out. It brought you a little bit of comfort to always know what you were getting. And it seemed like every time you branched out that you just ended up wishing you had gotten what you usually got. After some silence only filled with the sound of contented chewing and the chatter of other restaurant goers, you finally asked a question that had been poking at the edges of your mind. “So-”

“So.” He echoed through a mouthful of pancakes that he had put both blueberry and strawberry syrup on top of.

“At the gala. What’s the story with you and Mune?”

“Oh.” He seems completely caught off guard at this, forcing down a mouthful of the now purple slop on his plate with a cough. “That’s not really an interesting story. Why don’t I tell you about this time I absolutely destroyed Killcannon-”

“Killcannon is still around, Rex.” You murmured around a bite. “I don’t see how you could have destroyed him that badly.”

“Why are you always so critical?” He shoots back flatly, pushing a small triangle of pancake around on his plate, leaving streaks in its wake.

“I’m sorry,” You laugh, “I meant, oh wow! Please tell me more about how wonderful you are!”

“Well, that didn’t sound like you meant it.” He frowns.

“No shit! Stop avoiding the topic; you can brag about past exploits later. Who is Mune to you?”

He sets down his fork, sitting back against the booth. “She worked closely with the former director of the GDA. They were kind of… buddy-buddy, I guess.”

“The former director-”

“Director Radcliffe.”

“Yeah…What was he like?” Your elbows met the table as you leaned forward. Rex did not match your movement. You’d asked this before, on the plane. He had not given a full answer.

“Are you just trying to avoid talking about last night? ‘Cause I think we’ve got to talk about that.”

You set your jaw, biting the inside of your lip. “This first.” He was pulling every excuse known to man to attempt escaping this, which was only further intriguing you. If you weren’t so annoyed at his avoidance, you might have become flustered at the mention of last night, but you weren’t about to let him up that easily.

“No- you said we’d talk, I specifically remember-”

“Jesus Christ, Rex. I swear to god, I’m going to get up and drive off without you.”

“Fine. Jeez. Touchy.” You opened your mouth to retort back, but he interrupts you. “Fine, fine, FINE. Okay.” He grumbled to himself for a bit, folding his arms tightly against his chest. “The director, Director Radcliffe, well, he was…how do I put it lightly? A complete and utter douche bag prick?”

“We’ve covered that. Who was he to you?”

Rex ran his tongue over his teeth, looking up. He was trying to put it properly into words, or he was trying to come up with a good enough lie. “He was…you know how you are with Cecil?”

You gave him a look, sitting back from the table. “Yeah.”

“It was like that for me with Director Radcliffe. We worked really closely; I would go on missions for him that…weren’t technically sanctioned by the GDA, and he had me trained. Mune helped develop some chemical, I don’t even fucking know, but it made me stronger, quicker. Eventually, they did some operation, and then I woke up able to make things explode.”

“What do you mean, not technically sanctioned?” You decided to forgo any comment on how unethical this was all sounding at the moment. Rex couldn’t have been older than fourteen when this all happened if you knew your timelines right.

He let out a resigned sigh, like there was no excuse he could come up with to avoid the topic. “I was told…Well, I believed-” He ran a hand over his scalp, letting out a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes, the tone cold. “It’s actually kind of funny, you know?” Something told you it wasn’t going to be that funny. “There were a few times that- you know how superhero shit is, they tell you where something’s going wrong and you just show up, right?”

You murmur in response. He’s tapping his fingers on the table between you, shifting uncomfortably. You’re begging any higher force, if one exists, that a waitress doesn’t interrupt this conversation. If he was interrupted, you doubted he’d return to being this open.

“The funny thing is, and I mean real funny, the director would send me to these far-out places, and give me descriptions of terrorists, or dictators, whatever. And I was really good at it, like really fuckin’ good, didn’t fail a single mission.” He pauses, letting another weak smile appear on his features, shooting a small look in your direction. “Long story short, it turns out they weren’t always the bad guys. I just let him point me in whatever direction he pleased and ran loose like a fuckin’…I don’t know, dog or- or bomb, I guess?” He laughed dryly, pulling at his shirt collar. “Anyways, I got out. Walked away. That’s why I stayed at Eve’s for so long; she was kind of hiding me. Shit, I probably should have thanked her for that…But, um, the next time I saw him, he was pretty angry about the whole betrayal thing, no clue why, no one’s ever been angry with me, you could vouch for me on that front- I charged his glasses, I wasn’t fully thinking, you know? But yeah…I didn’t go to his funeral, told you about that already.”

 The silence between you crept on as you fully processed what he was saying. Long enough that a waitress came by with the bill and grabbed your plates. Rex seemed to grow more and more uncomfortable with the silence until he finally chirped up again.

“I think this is going amazingly, how about you?”

You stared at him. You didn’t fully intend to; he had just been extremely open with you, and now you were staring like a complete jackass. He just admitted to your face that he has killed innocent people, not a sliver of you thought it was his fault, but still, that hadn’t been what you were expecting. Rex had been a lot of things other than the picture perfect hero, but you always viewed him as a force for good. Completely dedicated to being a hero, regardless of how he really felt. Maybe that’s what Radcliffe used against him. All that eagerness, all that tension, pointed at whoever he pleased as long as Rex thought what he was doing was good. It felt familiar. It felt like a memory as he was saying it, not a story.

“Did you ever find out who they were?”

Rex blinked at you, and for a moment, you thought you might need to clarify. The way he slid out of the booth and stood at the edge of the table told you that wouldn’t be necessary.

“Some of them.”

You looked up at him, glancing in turn between his two green eyes. “Did that help?”

His expression is unclear to you, something you’ve grown used to with him, even with how expressive he usually is. You wonder if he’s debating leaving without you, walking away, chalking this all up to a big mistake. You asked too much, dug too deep, too soon. You should be apologizing, but instead you’re looking up at him with a dumb expression-

“Yeah…It did.”

--

Originally, upon leaving the restaurant, you had planned on making your way back to the car. You’d have to figure out how to approach figuring out if you were dropping him off at the HQ, or- anything. Most likely, he’d bring it up again, and you’d be forced to figure out what was going on between you two. But, as you approached, you found your legs kept moving, and the two of you passed where you were parked. Rex didn’t make a comment or hesitate; he just followed you quietly. His hands shoved deep into his pant pockets, his neck inclined back as he watched the trees roll by overhead.

The leaves were mostly a culmination of different shades of yellow, but even now, you could see orange and red hues creeping in at the edges. The late-day sun filtered through, licking the ground with soft rays, dappled by the overhead trees. With each step, there were dwindling amounts of people passing by for you to politely nod at, and the sidewalk got more and more rocky. It’s fall. Seasons were passing so quickly now that you were part of the Guardians. On a day like this a year ago, maybe you would have walked outside, run errands, called in and binged that one show you’ve been meaning to watch for months. Now it was an autumn day, and you were realizing that you had completely missed the whole summer. Spring too, but that felt like it was so much longer ago now. All of it was long ago. Lifetimes ago. Nothing in this field was guaranteed.

You glanced over at Rex; his eyes were still on the trees above. There was an almost child-like wonder to him, like it wasn’t often he would take little moments like this. You’d expected him to be bored, find it mundane. He didn’t. If it were a grocery trip, you figured that then he’d be much more apt to complain. But still. This was…nice. He glances over at you, and you feel like you’re seeing him again for the first time. You’re not thinking about what an asshole he is, or nervous about trying to make him and the rest of the team like you. His face is soft, speckled under the golden sunlight. His hair is growing faster than you thought it would; it’s already past the messy buzz phase and sprouting into something longer. The auburn shades contrasted against the autumn leaves that sprinkle the sidewalk make him look like he belongs. He doesn’t seem awkward, or uncomfortable, or like he’s unhappy. He’s looking at you like he meant what he said last night as you were drifting off to sleep. He’s looking at you like he could never look at you any other way. Like he’s never looked at you any other way.

“I’ve always felt like I’m less.” It’s slipping out of your mouth before you can stop it. Rex’s steps falter, but you keep speaking before he can interrupt. “When I found out I had powers, I was excited, sure. I figured that this would be something huge for me, and then I fainted the first time, and woke up soaked in my own blood, and it just seemed to go downhill from there.” You pause, letting your pacing slow down to a stop with Rex. “Cecil found me, and that has…well, it’s changed everything in a lot of ways. But I didn’t stop feeling that way. I told you about how nervous I was to join the Guardians, and-”

“You shouldn’t of.”

You suck in your cheek, gnawing on it softly with your teeth as you analyze his expression. “You weren’t exactly much help on that front.”

“I apologized-!”

“I can’t lift a bus, or fly, or touch something and make it explode.” You speak over him, holding a hand up in hopes it would silence him. “In all truth. I’m not sure I should be a Guardian.” You meet his gaze to find his brows tightly furrowed, and you decide to start walking again, listening for his steps behind you. “I’m not saying all of this because I want your pity, or your regret.”

“Why are you saying this?”

You pause, turning on your heel slowly to face him again. “Because I want to talk to you. Because I want to tell you. Because…I want to be honest with you.”

“And you’re being honest with me?” A flicker of doubt crosses his face, an old memory possibly. A burning question. A phantom pain in his chest.

“Baby steps.” You push his arm with your elbow, turning around down the path you both had followed.

“Hey! You can’t quote my own words back to me!” He bounds forward to keep up with you, his sneakers resounding off the concrete with each step.

“And who made that rule?” You cock a brow at him.

“I did!”

“When?”

“Just now!”

“That’s not how that works?”

“Yeah? And why’s that?”

“You didn’t announce the rule beforehand- you don’t even have it in writing!”

“Since when did rules have to be in writing?”

“Rex.”

“I don’t see how there can be all these rules when I’ve never heard of them-”

“Rex-”

“If they have to be announced first, why wasn’t this one announced?”

“REX!”

He finally stops in his tracks, turning completely around again to face you. “WHAT?”

You gesture in front of you to where your car is parked and to where he has just completely walked past.

“Oh.” He looks almost embarrassed, a small dusting of color spreading across his face. Sprinting, he makes his way back to where you are. You let yourself in, taking your sweet time unlocking the passenger door as he repeatedly tries to open it, even though the sound of it unlocking hadn’t gone off once.

--

The Guardian’s HQ is finally coming into view. The drive felt alarmingly shorter than usual. As you got closer, it really started to dawn on you that you didn’t want to drop Rex off. But you also couldn’t rationalize asking him to stay over again. The fact that he had stayed over at all kept jumping to the forefront of your thoughts. It was also getting harder and harder to ignore that you had both not addressed that, as well as what he had done to you last night. And you most assuredly had not brought up that your thoughts had been consumed by the idea that it could happen again.

Rex had just finished talking about a time when he had taken out ‘what felt like it must have been like thirty…or maybe like…a couple hundred-’ aliens in the center of Chicago. His left hand has been resting palm upwards on his leg the whole drive, which you definitely have not been overthinking for about fifteen minutes now.

“Robot said something about them aging because- I’m actually not sure, but they started dying of old age before our eyes. It was insane.”

You hummed in response. “I remember that. I was still just being tested by Cecil when that all happened. He had me heal a lot of people.”

You had dropped a few comments here and there as he continued his story. He went on to talk about how they returned, but this time they didn’t die. He eventually seemed content with how the story ended, devolving into a comfortable silence. (Even though it didn’t really have an ending besides ‘oh yeah, Omniman showed up, and that’s when we found out he was Mark’s dad.’)

“So.” Rex started, the music on the radio played lowly, keeping any silence incredibly light.

“So.” You echoed, shooting him a sidelong glance.

“You ready to talk now?”

“You haven’t stopped talking since I let you in the car, Rex.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. ALSO, it took you quite a while to actually let me in the car, thanks for that.” He grumbled around the last part of his sentence, looking out the window at the surrounding plains.

You snicker to yourself at the recent memory, which earns you a small groan. “Fine, I’m ready to talk, Rex.”

He snaps his attention back to you, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. “Really?”

“Really, really.”

A hush falls over the car, and you look back at him to realize he’s waiting for you to start the conversation.

“Ugh.”

“‘Ugh’, seriously?”

“You’re the one who’s been wanting to talk about this!”

“Why don’t you want to talk about it?”

You sigh, tracing a finger along one of the marks in your steering wheel, as you pull to a slow out front of your destination. “I’m not good at this, Rex.”

“And you think I am?” He snorts.

“Did I say that?”

“No-”

“Exactly.” You put the car in park, finally turning your head fully to face him. He’s angled his whole body towards you, regardless of the seatbelt that is pulled to its maximum length because of this. “I’m not entirely sure what this is.” You admit softly, nails picking at the mark absentmindedly.

“And that’s why you have a hard time talking about it?”

You let out a small breath, nibbling at the inside of your cheek as your eyes analyze his face. “No. I don’t- I don’t think that’s it, really.”

“Then what is?”

“I think I might have a hard time talking about it because-” You look out at the gargantuan front door, something you had never used to get in, due to your use of a parking garage that resided a few hundred feet to the side. It felt comical to have a parking garage at a headquarters, and even more comical to always be the only car inside of it. “I think I’m scared. Well, I know I’m scared.”

“Why?”

“You’ve never been scared of a relationship in your life.” You scoff, running a hand through your hair. “I’m not sure you could get it.”

Rex pauses, his brows creasing together as he mulls it over. “Yes, I have.”

“Enlighten me.”

“I was scared last night. Scared that you’d turn me away, that you’d fucking…I don’t know, look at me with disgust, and…” He stops, taking a deep breath. “I was scared at the gala, scared to kiss you after we danced. I was scared at the hospital that you’d stop visiting. I was scared that you’d never rejoin the team when I came to your apartment the night I got my brain blown out. I-” He chuckles dryly as he continues, ignoring you trying to speak again. “I was fucking, terrified when you heeled over in the kitchen. I was scared you wouldn’t make it through the Omni-whatsit fight- You’re making fun of me aren’t you?”

A tiny smile spreads across your features. “Yeah, a little.” You laugh. “But I can’t say I haven’t felt the same.”

“You’re not going to give me examples?”

“I think you gave enough for both of us.” You straighten out your shirt, thinking back over his admittance. “I want to do this again.”

“Listen to me make a fool of myself?”

“Not explicitly, but knowing you, it’s bound to happen if I wait long enough.” Rex exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t want to just wonder if I’ll see you next time I’m called in for a mission.”

“You do that too, huh?”

“Friday. If the world doesn’t decide to end, I know where we should go. I’ll send you where to meet me.”

“Friday’s ages away.”

“Somehow, I have a feeling you’ll survive.” Rex smirks, it almost seems like there’s a lightness to his eyes you hadn’t seen before. He looked like he was ready to go right now if you asked.

“Friday then?” He asks, finally unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out the door. You rolled down the passenger seat window so he could lean against it.

“Friday.” You repeated.

He looks at you closer, his eyes narrowing before he crosses in front of the car to the driver’s side. After a confused look and him pointing for you to roll the window down, you finally do.

“What-”

Rex leans down, his hand snaking around the side of your face, pulling you gently to meet him as he leans down into the window. His lips meet yours without all the passion or barely contained restraint of the other two times. But rather with quiet fervor. Like he knows and trusts that this won’t be the last time. He doesn’t have to compile every emotion he feels for you in the one embrace; he can save some for later.  His lips leave yours almost as soon as they brushed yours. It has you crane your neck in an attempt to follow him as he steps back, which he very obviously notices.

“Friday.” He says a final time.

“Uh, yeah. Friday.” You nod back, mentally kicking yourself for not asking him to stay the night again.

Author's Note: I’m hitting every single troupe with this fic, sorry guys 😭 I appreciate all of you that are sticking around for the fluff, I know a lot of people get bored once the slow burn couple gets together so I extra appreciate you if you stay!! Also, the fluff in this chapter had me giggling so hope it’s the same for youuu

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: @kittymeowmrow @sketchlove @jewelwayne101 @0ut0fsweets @cheeyan @spidernuggets @sweet-cuddlebug @ohmysoultakemysoul @lapisbwub @velovicy @liquideyes @insirecrate @isnotraven @thatonegayloser616 @viovya @miss-ivy-kyle @kaillou66 @x-intothevoid-x request to be tagged for new parts!

Chapter twenty-five

[toxicrelief]

Woah

A dance that never ends

[Prints available here]

[toxicrelief]

I need like 100 more chapters of crawling back to you I am HOOKED

Maybe not 100 more chapters but I’ve got at least 7 more im planning on!!! Plus an epilogue 😛😛 just struggling a bit with motivation BUT TRUST it’s coming

[toxicrelief]

heyy just wanted to say that your writing style is just 😍😮‍💨😮‍💨

you are so talented, please never stop posting your work🙏🙏

Thank you so much!! That’s so excellent to hear, I feel like sometimes it comes across as weirdly…unprofessional?? I’m not sure if that’s the word, but I feel like sometimes it can be too loose so I really appreciate that 🥹

[toxicrelief]

May I add you to my invincible writers list ?do you write for Donald?

You may!

I don’t write for Donald as the love interest, but he does play a main role in two fics I’m writing. I write mostly for Rex splode at the moment:)

[toxicrelief]

Do you have any rules and do you write for Cecil?

Any rules for as far as fics? Not really! Other than I don’t write noncon or underage stuff, etc.

And I do write for Cecil, I have a short fic I’ve released the first chapter for that’s called “what’s the perfect time?” I’m in the middle of writing chapter two.

What did you want to ask/request?

[toxicrelief]

heyy☺️ i noticed you added chapters 24, 25, 26 to your fic

does that mean that chapter 26 is the last one?

Hey!!

26 is not the last one, it just formats weird when I add chapters to the masterlist on my phone vs on my computer, so I preloaded a few so after I post the chapter from my computer I can do everything else on my phone :)

[toxicrelief]

Crawling Back to You

Chapter twenty-three

Synopsis: How long can you really avoid talking to Rex?

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.0k

Chapter: 23/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW/CW: Mild Depictions of Wounds, Oral F!Recieving, Edging if You Turn Your Head and Squint, Switch!Rex

Note: An apology for taking so long.

“I still can’t believe Rex was the first one to piece anything together. Very out of character for him.”

“Honestly, I think he was just spiteful enough to have created something out of nothing anyways. He just got lucky with me.” You had been indulging Rae’s questioning for a little while now, exhaustion making your eyes burn, and your arms feel heavy.

“So that time you caved in Rex’s chest?”

“I didn’t cave in his chest-!... But- well yeah, that was the first time I used it in combat. I had more thought of it as a way of restraint before then.”

“And with Omnipotus-?”

“He doesn’t have human DNA; all I could do was heal you guys during that one.”

“So, you’re limited to human DNA? But Invincible isn’t human-”

“I had to spend a lot of time connecting with him, but I think I can. I haven’t got the chance to try yet, but when I’m near him I can feel it.”

“Can you feel it when you’re around everyone?” Rae shifted slightly.

“I mean- technically? If I focus on it, I can notice the blood flow and heartbeat of everyone in a room or surrounding area. But it’s like noticing surrounding footsteps, it’s in the background.”

“Can you recognize someone by their blood… signature, I guess?”

“I’ve never tried, but if you can recognize a footstep, then I’d say yes?”

“You should be in special ops or something, this is spy-level shit, not superhero.”

“Are you saying I’m a bad superhero?” You frowned, picking at the inside of your sleeve.

“I’m just saying it’s interesting that you do this over anything else.”

There’s a small pause where the two of you just look at each other. “I want…to be good, Rae.”

“To be good, or to do good?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes.” She looks at you like she’s trying to read you, and for the first time since she first came in, a disfigured mess on that table, you realize how long she has to go. You hadn’t thought about it much in the weeks that had passed, but Rae was probably several months away from being fully healed. Her face still contained massive bruising from being compressed against the spine of the creature she’d tried to expand out of. If you had truly wanted to be good, you would have gone with Rex. Maybe you would have died alongside Kate, but at least you wouldn’t have to live with this guilt. Is that selfish? It felt like an easy way out, an escape from your regrets and the wrong you had done.

All this frustration with Rex and Cecil, and the whole team about not respecting you or believing in you, and where did that come from? When did you start to think you knew better than Cecil? You used to know that you were good, doing good. What if you never were?

“Ma’am?” You turn your head to a nurse who had poked her head into the room, expecting that she was talking to Rae. “Stedman says he wants you at room 1A, and he also said…” She grimaces faintly, “To ‘stop taking out your goddamn earpiece’.” The nurse then gives you a sheepish smile before leaving, letting the door slowly close behind her.

“Somethings never change, I guess.” Rae chuckles, nodding at your glance towards her, a small approval for you to go.

“I’ll be back-”

“No, once you’re done with this, you need to go home. Get some sleep. And then, when you’ve finally rested, come back.” She smiles almost mischievously. “Or once you’ve finally figured out this whole Rex thing.”

You sigh and wave her off before taking off out the door.

--

“This is-” Cecil is introducing you to a woman sitting on the edge of her bed. She has dark hair, pulled back into a prim and proper bun, and more eye-catchingly, her right arm appears to have been completely snapped in half. It’s been reset, at least from what you can tell. Gauze wrapped taut around it. Her left eye is also swollen shut; an ugly purple bruise spread through the surrounding area.

“How is he? Cecil, have you found him yet?” The woman interrupted, weariness ate through her tone, she was propped up in the bed, her eyes dropping low. She had to be fighting to not lose consciousness.

“This is Killdeer, Debbie.” He gestures to you with a stretch of his arm, not responding to her previous question. “She’s with the Guardians; she can help you.”

She gives you a once-over, her eye that is open is clouded. If she were more sentient at the moment, maybe she would push back, but instead, she just feebly nods. “Have her help Oliver first.”

“He’s fine, Debbie. April is watching him just a few rooms over. She can help you get back to Oliver quicker.” He gives you a look before he seems to decide that he’s no longer needed, leaving you alone in the room with the woman.

“Hi.” You shake off your exhaustion to the best of your ability, pulling up a chair from the corner. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

She just nods, her eye shutting as she seems to sink further into the bed.

“It’s broken, right?”

She nods again in silence. Great talk.

You take her wrist in your grasp, trying your best not to put too much pressure on her injury. “I can heal the surrounding tissues and muscle, but I can’t heal bone. You’ll have to treat it with the same amount of care as any other instance of breaking an arm, if that makes sense?” You decide not to mention that you won’t be doing anything for her eye while you’re at it. You just don’t have enough juice for that much.

“Okay.”

It’s a pretty rudimentary wound, splitting of several important arteries and intense ripping of the flexor carpi radialis and brachioradialis muscles. The kind of thing you saw every day on your rounds while Rex was still healing. You only let it take a few minutes, rushing through it a little, with how familiar the process is, and you know that if you take too much energy up, you won’t be making the drive home. It’d been so long since you had to sleep in the hospital that you weren’t even sure you had a bed here anymore.

The woman’s distressed expression eased; she seemed much more relaxed now, the majority of her pains lifted from her like the ripping off of a Band-Aid. You wondered now if she was experiencing that fuzzy feeling Rex mentioned. In fact… you were really curious if that was just him. An exhausted part of your brain filed that away to ask about further at a later time.

“Well, you should be set, Miss…” You realized you didn’t know her last name, so you settled on just giving her a small smile, standing up from your seat. She doesn’t open her eyes, just breathes out a small ‘thank you’.

You’re done, you can leave, go home, rest. But for some reason, you hesitate. You glance back at Debbie. The violet bruise catches your attention again instantaneously.

‘To be good, or do good?’

You could heal her. You could do your job and help her to the extent of your abilities, but you stopped because you wanted to go home. Rae was crushed in the process of stopping a nuclear threat. Rex was shot in the head for it. And you’re afraid of a little episode? It made you feel bitter. It made you take a few steps back towards Debbie. You should do your job-

The door opens behind you, and you practically snap your neck to look back. A variety of faces came to mind for who you would have guessed it was, but none of those were correct. Mark Grayson hesitates for only a moment, his eyes meeting yours. The slightest, almost imperceptible tension in his brow makes you feel like you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be, but then it’s as quickly as it came, it’s gone. He’s shooting over to the woman’s bedside.

“Mom.” He sits in front of her, pulling her into a hug that has you cringing over her freshly set radius and ulna.

“I’m okay, Mark.” He lets her lie back down, and she caresses his face.

Wait…mom?

“I’m fine, really.” His hands come up to her hand, gripping tightly. “I can hardly feel it, thanks to your friend here.”

His head swivels to look at you just as you’re backing up to leave the room. This whole interaction feels far too intimate for you to be watching. The attention has you freezing in place, giving a small wave. He blinks a few times, examines you like he’s truly noticing you for the first time. You were praying he wasn’t questioning why he was seeing you so much. It wasn’t suspicious, right? You were a Guardian; he sees them all the time, right?

A few tense seconds pass, and you can feel your heart rate start to pick up as you try to remember how fast he can cross the expanse of the room to reach you.

Come on, now this is just downright paranoid. He wouldn’t attack you! He has no reason to; you haven’t done anything. You’re a Guardian, one of the good guys. You’re just back-up, he would understand.

He would…Right?

“Thank you.” He finally says, nodding his head gently at you, before he turns his attention back to his mother.

You take this as your cue to get out, not the slightest bit interested in hearing whatever they were going to talk about. The mini fight-or-flight reaction you’d just experienced completely zapped you of any remaining energy.

It’s time to go home.

--

The drive is quiet. So quiet it almost feels suffocating, but you can’t seem to lift your arm to turn on the radio. Your mind was buzzing, jumping from subject to subject as you slowed down for the fourth consecutive red light. Rae’s words once again ring out in your head.

‘What’s the backup for you?’

It was dawning on you how easily you could be taken out. The ReAniman in your training room. Cecil had specially ordered it, filled it with blood so that you could practice on it. He told you this specifically. If one of those were finished and put up against you, without any blood inside, you were done. This probably brought comfort to Cecil in some way, but it was an interesting thing to come to terms with in the cold silence of your car. You weren’t sure when the shift happened, when you started feeling invulnerable, but it had happened. It got easier and easier to metaphorically, and most times, physically, bring people to their knees.

You went from feeling some of the worst nerves of your life because you were expected to train with Rex, to considering making Cecil put you in when Mark was actively being destroyed by that Viltrumite woman.

You were getting cocky. Cocky leads to sloppy. You weren’t as indestructible as the others. A security guard with an itchy trigger finger took you out for Christ’s sake.

Itchy trigger finger. What a cold thing to think. When did you get so unforgiving?

--

Being less selfish is a wonderful idea in concept. At least it was until Rex was lying in his bed at the Guardians, his eyes drilling into the ceiling for more than twenty minutes now. She’d be home by now, right?

He still has the address.

It’s really fucking late.

He still has the address.

Seriously? A few hours after deciding not to be selfish and already considering knocking on her door? He’d already lived this story. He knew the ending; it remained entirely too fresh in his mind. Sometimes fresher than the event that happened not too long afterwards.

He rolled over, staring now at the blank wall that abutted his bed.

His stomach hurt, his mind hadn’t been quiet in hours, well, in days, well, maybe a few months. He felt queasy and uneasy, over what? He wasn’t doing anything! Why did he feel this way? He’s not supposed to feel this way. It made him feel weak, and desperate, and-

He’s not going to give in. He can’t. He’s deciding to be selfless this one time. He has to stick to it.

And that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

--

It feels like it’s been a thousand years since you last stepped into your apartment and genuinely had the time to sit down. The couch felt more stiff than you remembered, coarse under your fingertips as you spread them in a quick swipe over the side. Your back fleshed with the cushions as you let out an exhausted sigh. With the Gala, the Viltrumite, Angstrom Levy, and the hospital, you felt like you could sleep for a few weeks. A quick check in with Cecil on the drive home had told you the Guardians were called in to some disturbance in New Orleans. A kaiju of some sort was laying waste to the city, nothing you’d be much help against.

Your mind kept swirling even as your eyes drifted closed, too exhausted to get up and crawl to your bed that resided just a room over. Mune’s offer sounded clear in your ears, an escape. A way out. But did you really want a way out? Rex was surprisingly supportive, at least you thought he was. The lack of conversation on the flight really wasn’t helping with your confusion there.

Rex Splode. Rex. Splode. The asshole. The driving force in any suspicion around you. The one person besides, maybe Rae, who you almost wished was here right now. Rex Splode.

You could feel that you were losing consciousness as your thoughts started to swirl in circles, drifting into mindless babbling. Rex Splode, who saved your life. Well, saved you from a pretty dangerous situation at least. Rex Splode, who taught you how to punch without dislocating your elbow. Rex Splode, who showed up at your door drunk. You hummed with a smile at the memory. Rex Sloane, who showed up at your door to ask you to go back with him. Smile fading, you opened your eyes against the exhaustion, letting out a brisk breath. You needed to figure out what was going on between you two before you regretted it-

A knock on your door had you jerking upwards, nails digging deeper into the cushions. Cecil needed to learn when you needed rest. Whatever new problem had presented itself, it’d better be fucking cataclysmic. You weren’t the only hero capable of anything, call in The Immortal or- anyone else. Mark wasn’t in great condition, but he could do something if need be!

Leave me ALONE-!

You yanked the door open, ready to vocalize your internal monologue of your exhaustion, but the words died in your throat.

“Hi.”

You’re awake now.

You paused, brows furrowing together tightly. “Hey.” Your guest shifted subtly, he looked…lost. Like he’d taken a few wrong turns and somehow was now here, at your doorstep, at this ungodly hour.

“You said we’d talk.” Rex seems to shake the look off for a few moments and front with a more confident air to him. Phony, you recognize.

You blinked a few times, shaking your head and biting back a laugh even though you didn’t find this situation remotely funny. Ironic, poorly timed maybe, but not funny. “Rex…It’s-” You leaned back, trying to see into the kitchen, but your view of the microwave clock was blocked. “It’s really fucking late-”

“We need to talk.” He said it again, more firmly, his fists clenching at his sides.

Pause. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” That look returned for a moment, and it made your heart clench. Would you really tell him the truth? The truth that he needed to look further than you, do better than you. But even that felt like giving yourself too much credit, assuming that he even saw you as more to begin with. Or would you tell him the other truth? That you were beginning to feel like you needed him alongside your daily oxygen supply. You looked for him when entering a room, missed him when he wasn’t around. That you wanted nothing more than to return to that headspace you had the other night. After only once, you were craving him, wanting to feel him again.

Not likely the latter.

“Yeah.” You affirmed finally, taking a step sideways so he could come in. He only entered enough for you to close the door, then he seemed to take root on the entryway rug.

“I…Well, you see, I- Fuck, I had it all planned out.” His eyes roam over you, then leave you to glance around the room. He looked tense.

“Do you want me to-”

“No, I need to say it.” He took a deep breath, finally settling his eyes steadfast on you. “I don’t understand why I feel this way. It’s- well, I’m not a stranger to wanting something- someone,” He let out a dry chuckle, “But this is- It fucking hurts. Is that how it’s supposed to feel?” He rings out his hands lightly, giving you a meek smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not supposed to feel like this- at least I don’t think…”

“Wha-”

“It’s like I can’t breathe when I’m near you, but I can’t breathe when I’m away from you. And I sleep and eat and- and I fuckin’ drink but it’s dry and- boring or whatever- I just-” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I swear this was supposed to be better.”

You tilt your head at him, folding your arms. You wanted him to continue, but you didn’t want to rush him. Every word he uttered seemed to send a jolt through you.

“This should be a distraction. I should come here and tell you I need to focus on the Guardians and my place there and…” He trails off, dropping his hands almost hopelessly. “But that’s not true. I actually fight better because of you.”

“What?” You scoffed lightly, taking a step back as he took one forward. It was habit, maybe defensive, afraid that if he got much closer, you wouldn’t be able to stand by what you had decided.

“Back when I left the hospital. I lied. I hadn’t been cleared to be back on the field, I just needed to do- fuck, I needed to do something. Be of use. And when I arrived, there was this- well, this giant fuckin’ octopus thing-” He extends one hand lower and the other up higher to emphasize its size. “I wasn’t…I wasn’t ready for it, or I didn’t feel like I was ready for it?” He seems to be rambling a little bit, and you could swear there was a small tremor in his hands. “It almost got me, and I froze up. I never freeze up; that’s how you die. You can’t freeze up.”

“You…You lied?” Not exactly the most out of character thing he’s ever done, but still you shook your head in mild confusion. Where was he going with this?

He holds a shaky hand out before him, watching it in a short pause. “I thought about you.”

“What?” Repeating as always.

“You got me to stand back up and fight back. Remember who I was, how much I’ve survived to get here now. If I didn’t have you, I might have stayed frozen like some stupid- fucking- something.” His eyes slowly travel up to yours, and he takes a few steps forward, closing the space between you swiftly. 

You feel the entryway wall press against your back; you can feel its coolness through your shirt. Suppressing a shiver, you force your gaze upwards to him again. “What’s your point, Rex?”

“My point?” He lets out a dry, frustrated laugh, runs a hand through his hair, then utters your name in a tone you hadn’t heard before. Like he’s amazing by you, confused by you, angry with you, and longing for you all at the same time. “Why are you being like this? What changed?”

“What do you mean ‘what changed’?” You found yourself letting out a mirrored dry chuckle. “So much has changed, Rex.” You gesture to him in the little space that is left between you. “You have changed in so many ways, and it’s amazing-” He scoffs, but you hold up a hand to silence him, you needed to get through this. “It feels like it’s been a few lifetimes since I first stepped into headquarters. I can’t even remember what I was feeling on the day anymore. But I don’t feel like that person anymore.” A shallow sigh leaves your lungs. “I remember that everything felt so new and complicated, but somehow now it only feels like it’s gotten worse. Rex, I used to think I stood for something, I used to know, or at least think I knew I was good.” Your hands come together in front of you, wringing them out nervously. “You deserve good, Rex-”

“Oh, do not start that bullshit right now-” His voice is low, tense, and he leans forward just a few inches, but it effectively pins you in place. Your back straightening out to be to its entirely against the wall now. “You can’t turn the way you’ve been acting back on to me, you don’t get to pull that shit now.”

“That shit?” You repeat incredulously.

“Yeah.” His brow creases. “Like you’re putting the brakes on this for me. Some self-sacrificial bullshit-”

“Self-sacrificial- oh my GOD.”  Your expression tightens to match his, and you can physically feel the tension in the room rising, even with your mutual hushed tones. “At least I actually think things through before I burst into anything. Do you ever give anything any thought?”

“That is not fair-”

“Is it? How much did you think this through, huh?” You’re leaning forward slightly now, practically talking directly in his face, inches away. “What did it take this time? Another handful of drinks at a nearby bar?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Depends! Is that what it took?”

Rex’s lip curls slightly at this, his nose scrunching. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, I’m not a fucking idiot even though you try to treat me like one. I’ve thought this through from every single fuckin’ angle, I was determined to stay away, because it’s obvious to me that you aren’t feeling the same things I am.” He leans back, which has you taking a step forward instinctively. As if you’re chasing his warmth. “I’m such a fucking idiot. I come here talking about how I can’t breathe when you aren’t near-” It seems to be hiring him that maybe he hasn’t thought this through as thoroughly he had thought and now he’s experiencing regret in real time. You can see it flash across his face as he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair as he turns to look away. “Fucking Christ-” He pauses, and the silence extends uncomfortably long. You want to step forward again, follow him the small amount of area he now is away. “You’re right. I should have thought this through.” He sounds defeated, small. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Shit.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” He’s taking another step back, head completely turned towards the door.

You feel your movement before you register it fully, your steps following his in quick succession, your right hand gripping the front of his hoodie tightly, and your left coming up to his face to make him look at you. And suddenly you kiss him. His response is delayed, his whole body feels like it goes rigid under your touch. But it only takes a few moments for him to catch up. You almost expect him to break it, to step away. He doesn’t. Instead, he’s pushing you to the side, against the front door. His hand traverses up your neck into your hair.

This isn’t a particularly healthy way of continuing this conversation, but your body was screaming to feel him again much louder than your mind was begging you to stop. You break the kiss to let him breathe, not looking him in the eye before you decide to trail kisses down the side of his face. He hardly let you touch him last time, and you were making up for it now.  

“You said we’d talk-” He huffed it out, a hand coming over his mouth as a form of restraint. His head is angled upwards as your mouth comes in contact with the column of his throat. “You lied to me-” A groan cuts him off.

More than you know. The thought has you hesitating, a small action that Rex doesn’t seem to mind using to his advantage. His lips are back on yours again, pushing you further against the door. His hands pressing firmly to your hips, a small motion that has his fingertips brushing against the soft skin beneath your shirt there.

“Talk to me.” He’s panting it into your mouth as you both catch your breath. His digits push further up on your abdomen. His hands feel cold against your heated skin, forcing a soft gasp from your lungs. “I want you to talk to me, please just talk to me- I-” He mutters it out through kisses, getting sloppier each time, starting at your lips, then eventually the sides of your mouth as he loses precision. “I can’t- You have to talk to me, please.”

“Rex-”

“Please.” His hand splays across your stomach, further restraining you. “Please, please, please, please, please-”

He repeats the plea over and over against your skin, his other hand ensnaring in your hair, tugging firmly so you expose your throat to him.

“You confuse me.” It’s the first thing that comes to the haze of your mind. You feel him hesitate, his shaky breath heating your exposed throat, causing you to swallow roughly. “Being around you makes me feel… confused.” You let the words out into the quiet, hoping it will do something.

There’s a small stretch of silence, and neither of you moves. Your head thuds softly against the door as you let it rest back completely. The sound of his ragged breathing mixed with the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

“Keep going.” His voice cuts through you, it’s slightly deeper, tone laced with something you hadn’t heard from him before. You lean your head forward to see him waiting, his pupils are completely blown, and his lips are parted. In what feels like a millisecond, you study his face, committing him to memory just as he is. The curve of his nose, the way his jaw shifts the longer you take to respond. The light dusting on his cheekbones. It makes you want to kick yourself. He wanted you, felt so deeply for you that he put his ego on the line three times now. And you had been so stuck in your head that you hadn’t even registered it. It felt like it was fully clicking. The silence on the plane, the hot and cold of your interactions. His hands pulling your hair back as you kneeled on the Guardians HQ kitchen floor, knee deep in an episode.

His irregular heartbeat when you healed him in the privacy of his room. His piss poor apology at the hospital, the immediate cheesy smile he gave you when you showed up to visit him that first day. He let you sit and examine his hand for ages. Paid you twenty bucks for pamphlets that obviously weren’t worth that much. Nicknames. Little waves across rooms.

You were feeling stupid. It was so obvious. The realization only made you feel like more of a piece of shit. Which was almost amazing considering how you’ve been feeling lately.

“You hated me, and I didn’t know why. But you still talked to me, trained me.” His expression softens to something almost sorrowful. You keep speaking before he can interrupt. “You saved me, stayed behind when everyone left-” You search for the words, trying to ignore the way his hand in your hair tightens. “I- well, I don’t really talk to anyone. Or- I didn’t use to.” You gesture behind him to the carousel frame next to the TV that Rae gave you. “I mean, fuck, I don’t even have any picture to put in that stupid- My point is, I’m not good at this.”

Rex’s eyes search yours, but he doesn’t speak.

“You said you don’t know how to breathe when I’m around. I don’t know how to think, or how to stop thinking- somehow simultaneously?” You’re floundering slightly, but you don’t stop. “I think I-” No, it’s too soon. Far too soon.

“You think you?”

“I think…I know I want you.” Saying it somehow makes something else click.

Wait, that’s what he was saying in Mune’s library? Are you fucking kiddi-

The movement is sudden, his hands leave their prospective areas of your body, and slither to your upper thighs. A sound of surprise presses out of your vocal cords as your feet leave the ground. It seems effortless, which you suppose makes sense, super strength and all. Your arms run to the back of his neck, pulling you tightly against him. You feel the plush of your bed first as he practically drops you down. And then you feel the material of your comforter in a much more real sense as you’re ridden of your pants and simultaneously your underwear. Your breathing turns shaky, but you don’t stop him, even as he hesitates for a moment. Whether he stopped to give you a chance to ask not to go further, or just to simply admire, you couldn’t tell.

His hands feel warm against your hips as he drags you to the edge of the bed. You hear him lower to his knees, then feel him place a soft kiss at the edge of your left thigh, towards your knee. His other hand grips your other thigh tightly, pushing it back into the bed. He trails the kisses closer to your core, and when he’s tantalizingly close, he switches to your other thigh. Peppering them in such a way that it felt like your skin was searing at the touch. Your chest is starting to hurt from how intense your breathing is.

“Fuck-” It slips out, just a whisper. But he obviously hears it. You can feel him smile against the softness of your skin. And then you feel the flat of his tongue against your core. Swirling deliberately slow as you tense at the action. The distinct lack of attention to that area contrasted then to the way he seems to solely focus on it has your mind reeling. You instinctively arch against him, which has his hand splaying out on your lower stomach, holding you down.

You need to do something with your hands; the energy inside you is spreading to every limb, making you feel restless. His hair is hardly long enough at this point to grab, but it doesn’t fully stop you. He groans into you, the noise vibrating against you in a way that has your thighs tensing against his head. While pushing two fingers inside of you, he uses his arm that holds you down to also push back your thigh.

“Christ, if I’d known I could have this effect on you, I would have tried this sooner.” He practically purrs it out against you, accentuating his words with a swirl against your clit.

“Pretty cocky- f-fuck- for someone who was begging me to s-speak to him earlier.” You grit your teeth, trying to push your hips into his fingers further, but to no avail.

“It comes and goes.” He curls his digits in such a way that it has you gasping, your whole body jerking. He seems to notice and puts all his attention on that specific spot, his mouth returning to you at the same time. It’s almost too much. The feeling rides the border between pleasure and pain. You can feel it building, feel yourself tense up. And you know he can feel it too, because just like that, his fingers disappear, and so does his tongue.

“Fuck- I thought you were done being a dick.” Pressing your head into the bed, you try to will the feeling to return, but it fades away as quickly as it was approaching.

“It comes and goes.” He repeats again, you look down to see him licking his fingers clean. The action alone has you clenching on nothing. “I want you to tell me something.”

“Is this really the time, Rex?” You almost whine, letting your head fall back.

“Yes.” His hand comes down to your thigh, his thumb rubbing soft circles against it. It didn’t feel purposeful, but rather, it felt compulsive. Like he couldn’t stop himself. “Is this going to end the same way as last time?”

You’re quiet. Your head is so clouded from the speed of everything, it was hard to give something like that genuine thought. “Rex…”

“Be honest. Please.”

“You should have asked this earlier you know, I could say anything I want to try to convince you to continue.” The joke lands flat, and he doesn’t seem impressed.

“I’ll be able to tell.”

“How?” You look back down at him again at this, he looks the most serious you’ve ever seen him.

“I’ll just…I’ll just know.” He doesn’t explain further, and you suspect he has no intention of explaining his thought process.

“I want you to stay.” It’s the truth. Not because you want him to return to what he was doing, or because you want to kiss him. But because you always seem to want him near.

His eyes soften, and his restless thumb stops its relentless circles. He moves forward again, continuing with renewed energy against your already throbbing clit. His fingers return to that spot, as if by muscle memory, and far quicker than you expect. In no time at all your legs feel like they’re locking in place, everything inside you tightening to the point you’re hardly breathing.

“Rex- fuck- Rex please-” Your words are sharp, forced out of you, and slurred. This time he doesn’t stop. The pace of his fingers remained the same, and the swiping of his tongue hastened. The stimulation pushes you over the edge, a gasp asking you as you jolt against him. He continues his assault until you’re able to catch your breath. Your quiet pleas now for the opposite of what you’d be asking before. He lapped at your overstimulated clit a few more times before finally listening to your soft whining.

You thought you were exhausted earlier. The simple weariness you were feeling then couldn’t compare by miles to complete and utter exhaustion you were feeling now. You could hardly move, which makes it more surprising when you hardly registers that you’re being moved, settled in bed correctly. Lifted section by section as Rex pulls down the duvet to cover you. A moment passes, and he’s shifting next to you, pulling you up against him. A small voice in your head scolds you for doing nothing for him. You’d make it up to him, you told yourself. In this instance, it didn’t seem like he minded. His warm hands feel like a furnace against your hip as he settles his hand against you. He places strategic kisses against your shoulder through your shirt, leading up to the back of your neck. You let out a sigh that has your whole body relaxing as he continues.

“You mentioned earlier that you don’t feel like that person who walked into the headquarters anymore.” He’s whispering it against your neck, laying gentle kisses on the sensitive area where your shoulder connects to it.

You hummed in response, your eyes closed, fighting off the extensive need for sleep. Actively feeling the world fade around you.

“I don’t care if you aren’t that person anymore.”

“Oh really?” You somehow manage to murmur, moments away from drifting off.

“Yeah, it’s not her I fell in love with.”

Author's Note:

THE L WORD!!! LESBIANS!

This was originally going to be two separate chapters but I combined them because you guys have been waiting for fucking forever. So sorry about that 💔. Cecil x Reader short fic chapter 1 has been out for a little bit btw! "What's the Perfect Time?"

Also, take a shot for everytime I write “Right?” In this fic, goddamn.

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: @kittymeowmrow @sketchlove @jewelwayne101 @0ut0fsweets @cheeyan @spidernuggets @sweet-cuddlebug @ohmysoultakemysoul @lapisbwub @velovicy @liquideyes @insirecrate @isnotraven @thatonegayloser616 @viovya @miss-ivy-kyle @kaillou66 request to be tagged for new parts!

Chapter twenty-four

[toxicrelief]

Me too bae. Me too.

How it feels to be a Rex fan knowing he was canonly a complete shitbag for the majority of his life 💔💔

[toxicrelief]

Such a pet peeve of mine 😭

why is it so impossible to find a Bob Reynolds fanfic where he doesn't stutter every 5 fucking words?!?

"Ye-Yeah, that would b-be great..." WRAP IT UP

Not every soft spoken character is an anxious, stuttering mess. This man is an abused meth addict turned into a superhero, so he's got lots going on, but he's NOT A STUTTERING TODDLER!!!

[toxicrelief]

Hey! 💛 I’ve been really enjoying your rex splode fic—just wanted to ask if you might be planning an update sometime? No pressure at all, just excited to see more if/when you’re up for it!

I’m a few thousand words into it right now!! I’m hoping to finish it today, and if I’m lucky have it edited so I can post tomorrow, but we’ll see 😭 I’ve been so busy and writers block is kicking my ass

[toxicrelief]

Hi, this is the rat that comments a lot on ao3 and I kinda found you again while looking for Rex stuff on Tumblr so I thought I'd give you a follow here too. I hope you're having a good day

HI HI HI!!!! IM SO GLAD YOU FOUND ME HERE!!! Its so much easier to interact with people here than on ao3 hehe

Kinda embarrassing I’ve got art in here and stuff but whatever, I’m so glad to have you :333

[toxicrelief]

That one House promo pic

me and my family of mentally ill weirdos

[toxicrelief]

What's the Perfect Time?

Synopsis:

Cecil Stedman is a good soldier. He’s given everything that he can in the belief that it is for the good of the world. He’s given up any sense of life outside of work, any connection to family he once knew, even his very skin. If he doesn’t do it, who will? So, he continues to work even after an incident that almost ended his life.

Which coincidentally brings him to you.

A dishonorably disavowed NASA scientist who’s lost her licensure because of ethical violations that is now employed at the GDA under Director Radcliffe. With your talents recently turned to synthetic reconstructive measures, you want to assess your work on the agent who somehow managed to survive the impossible.

Over the course of XX years, your morals, ideology, and sense of self all come into question as your relationship with an initially inconsequential agent at the GDA forces you to fully assess your actions, and his.

Or

Cecil and Reader have a will they won’t they for twenty years.

Pairing: Cecil Stedman x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Chapter: 1/?

Masterlist (Not made yet)

TW: A Few Semi Graphic Descriptions

Note: Hi! This has been something I thought would be fun for a little while now, while writing a different fic that was Rex x Reader. It was supposed to be a oneshot and then I got carried away, so hopefully it’s no longer than like 30-40k I’m sorry about any canon inconsistencies, I haven’t been able to read all the comics yet and all I have to go off of is the shows canon outside of Rex’s back story which is already quite short. This does tie in somewhat with my other fic, which is called “Crawling back to you” but they both stand alone from each other just fine.

-Spring-

“Don’t do that.” Your voice ticked with an undercurrent of annoyance.

“It’s sticking me.”

“Are you a child?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a doctor or something? Why can’t you fix it?”

“I’m not a doctor.”

“Oh.” The man goes silent, his fingers still from picking at the bandages covering his face. Not that he could grab very well anyway, as the bandages engulfed every sign of visible skin, He looked more mummy than man. This was more to make sure the synthetic skin took to his muscle tissue than anything else. It would be able to be removed in sections over the next few days. The last recipient who reacted badly to the transference had ended up looking like he was floating within the confines of a mushy flesh pool. You’d rather not see that again. “Well, who are you then?”

“I’m the reason you’ll be able to recognize what you see in the mirror, Mr. Stedman.” Tapping the clicker of your pen on your clipboard, you pushed forward on your stool, taking note of his vital signs.

“But, you’re not a doctor?”

You sigh, it’s subtle and quick through your nose. “Nope.”

“Returning to my point, if you did all of this, doctor or not, can’t you fix the way it’s poking into me? I feel like it’s going to fuse to my skin or something.”

“I can’t do that, Mr. Stedman.” You scribble down a few notes, your eyes flashing over the clipboard attached to the bottom of his bed.

He grumbles in a disgruntled fashion, then resumes trying to readjust the dressing.

“Mr. Stedman, please refrain.” You looked up over the clipboard, not bothering to hide the unimpressed look shadowing your features. His hand drops slowly, and he stares blankly at you. Which, for some reason, greatly irritates you. You were already having a bad enough year, having to give up your dreams you’d worked your whole life for, and now this idiot wouldn’t listen to you. With a sigh, you continued. “Most likely, your natural epidermis that you requested to keep near your oral cavity is having a minor reaction to the synthetic nature of your new outer layer of skin.” You stood up from the stool, taking a few steps forward, folding your arms. “The majority of your derma layer was highly damaged, not to mention the complete disintegration of your outermost layer. You’re lucky the most discomfort you are feeling is a slight ‘stick’.”

“Your bedside manner is impeccable.” He drawled out, slightly muffled by the bandages. If you could see his expression, you were sure he’d be frowning.

“This is very new technology, Mr. Stedman. If this kind of incident had happened even a year ago, you wouldn’t be alive to complain about my bedside manner.”

“I get it, I’m very lucky.” He grumbled again, turning his wrapped head away from you.

Holding back a roll of your eyes, you checked his vitals one last time, writing them down and signing off on them on the clipboard. “Tomorrow, we will be able to remove the bandages on your arms and legs. Because of your special request, your head will be last to be unwrapped in a few days. Don’t pick while I’m gone. I’ll know.”

“Great.”

“Splendid.” It comes out dry, and with that, you turn heel and leave. You hadn’t expected much different from an encounter with one of Radcliffe’s men. He was a dick enough on his own, and now you had to deal with this guy. You weren’t told how he managed to melt all of his skin off, or why. And frankly, you didn’t care. He was a job, more than that, he was an experiment. If everything went perfectly, he’d be the first subject to fully take to the operation. If it was a success, you’d be better than any of those sleezy pricks at NASA. And that’s all that mattered to you. This guy had better not ruin that for you.

--

“Today’s the day, you excited?” You said it more to ease the creeping silence for yourself than because you wanted to talk to him. After days of running tests and slowly unwrapping different sections of his body, you were finally onto the final section. He didn’t respond, which had become somewhat common now, unless he felt the need to question you on something. After sterilizing your hands and donning the appropriate gloves, you moved forward to free him.

Steady hands searched for the correct end, then proceeded to unravel. It was a painless process for him; the synthetic skin had taken remarkably well on the rest of his body to the point you weren’t the least bit worried. With each bit that was removed from the crown of his head, you could make out dusty blonde locks. Another thing to check off on your list. You weren’t sure how well hair growth would take with artificial follicles. Initially, the growth had been installed with the rest of the skin, but you could see that it had grown at least an inch since the procedure. This meant that, at least for now, he was likely to experience accelerated healing as well as growth. This hypothesis was only furthered when you checked previous needle wounds from blood samples the previous day to see that they had already healed completely. The remaining gauze fell from his face as it loosened, revealing your work.

Taking a step back, you examined him closer, then stepped forward again, taking his chin in your hand to look at the seam between his old and new skin. It presented itself as a wicked scar, traversing up the side of his face from his mouth, as well as down his chin. The skin was slightly darker than the surrounding area, sunken in. It made you frown. He would have been a testament to your abilities, damn near a work of art. And he ruined it with this.

“Seen all you need?” His voice jostled you from your disappointment, and your hand jerkily let go of his face.

“Yes, thank you.” You leaned back away from him, disposing of your gloves and the gauze, then grabbing the clipboard to write your notes.

“Well?” You looked over the shining metal of the clip to meet his piercing grey eyes. Now that you could see the rest of his expression alongside them, you wondered how often he had mirrored your look of disinterest back at you.

“Everything looks to be in optimal condition-”

“Do you always talk like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re a robot.”

You sighed, suppressing yet another eyeroll. Funny, coming from the guy who’s not tried once to maintain conversation with you over the two weeks you’ve been working with him. “Are you asking if I talk technically outside of the technical setting I work in?”

“Yes.”

“Do you always hardly talk at all?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Mr. Stedman,” You force a polite smile, “If you must know, no, I do not talk with my friends with the same candor or tone I take with you. But we aren’t friends, are we?”

“I suppose not.” He settled back against the pillows behind his back, raising a hand to feel his face, snaking it back to the base of his skin.

You continued your documentation, taking note of the accelerated healing and growth, deciding you’d have him come in again next week to see the progress. “Alright, Mr. Stedman.” Dropping your arms, you placed the board on its hook at the end of his bed. “A doctor is going to come and clear you for discharge in the next few hours. After that, you will be made aware of upcoming appointments by the receptionist. I want you in here next Friday so I can check over my work again. Any questions?”

“When can I get back in the field?”

You scoffed, but his brow only furrowed tighter. “Mr. Stedman-”

“I know my own name; you don’t have to always repeat it.”

“Mr. Stedman.” You hold up a hand to silence him. “You have done your duty to your country, practically died for it.” You paused, thinking back. “Actually, you did die for it, for approximately five minutes.”

“Look, I’m not an idiot, Radcliffe wouldn’t fund me being pieced back together like goddamn Humpty-Dumpty if I wasn’t expected to return to work. When am I field-ready?”

Your jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. He could quit. It wouldn’t be pretty; you’d talked with Radcliffe directly when the case was first brought to you. He had been adamant that Stedman be prepared to reenter the agency as soon as possible. You didn’t particularly care for Stedman personally, but you knew his story and those like him too well. Going back meant that you had only staved off the inevitable. People don’t usually have the ability to leave the GDA alive. “Two weeks.”

“Thank you.” He nodded appreciatively, staring off into the corner for a moment.

You hesitate, considering whether you should warn him of Radcliffe’s oncoming visit. He had told you he intended to ‘check your work’ before Stedman was discharged. But after a few seconds of consideration, you decided it wasn’t your job to tell him.

“What do I call you?”

You stop with your hand at the door, fingertips outstretched, able to feel the cool of the metal. “Two weeks and now you finally think to ask?”

“I figured you’d eventually introduce yourself when you wanted.” You didn’t turn to see his expression. “The doctors call you-”

You tense against your will, you know what they call you, and it’s definitely not your name. “That’s fine.”

“Just…Moon? No first name? Or is that your first name?”

“Just Mune is fine, Mr. Stedman.” It had started as a dumb form of teasing back in undergrad, a play on what was seen as a silly dream to work at NASA. And then, when you had actually achieved what was seen as impossible, it became a way to demean you, a constant reminder that you’d never be enough. You were never taken seriously, the girl who wanted to find more ways to see the stars. It was cute. You weren’t sure what it was about you that immediately rendered you as a joke to everyone else. For a while, you chalked it up to blatant misogyny, but it seemed to be a shared sentiment by everyone you ever worked with.

 You weren’t sure when you stopped sharing your real name, but one day it just felt irrelevant. And when you started working with Radcliffe, it was only further cemented. After so many years, it felt more odd to hear your given name than anything else. If anything, it guaranteed you a certain level of anonymity. There were several news articles tied to your name if anyone looked too far into you. Luckily, not every detail had made its way to the archives. Radcliffe had made sure of that.

“Well, thank you, Moon.”

“See you next Friday, Mr. Stedman.” The door clicked shut with a thud behind you.

--

You stared down at two bodies, at least you thought they were bodies. Any distinguishable characteristic was burnt away to the point you couldn’t even tell what the gender the two crisped corpses used to be. “You want me to…do what exactly?”

“I saw your work on Stedman, put them back.”

“Put them back.” You repeated to yourself, blinking a few times. “Put them back?” You turned to him after staring at the charred remains a second longer. “Sir, even if I could remantle them, they’re not even…alive.”

As if on cue, one of them sputtered, sending darkened blood spraying into the air. Its chest heaved, with each breath, a different part of flesh seemed to give from where it was attached to the torso. Strings of biological matter hung frayed, like strands of wet hay. Several ribs glistened through the blacked muscles. In fact, the longer you looked, the more you noticed how much bone was showing at various points of the body. You could see bare knuckles peaking through at their hands, the outermost layer of a tibia- the more you looked, the more you saw.

“Is this even- humane? Even if I can get the artificial skin to take, they’ll be in immense pain, for months, maybe even longer-”

“Since when did you care about what was humane?”

You looked over at the director, your gaze hardening. “Get me assistants and I’ll get started. Not the same idiots from last time. People who actually know something.”

“Very well.” He nodded with a smile. “Keep me up to date on your progress. I want them ready to be on the field in a few weeks.”

“I need some point of reference for what they used to look like.”

He steps forward, placing a manila folder in your hand. “That one is the man.” He gestured at the one who hadn’t coughed; his chest was rising in shallow waves. And then he left.

You opened the folder, inside were files on two people, one alluded to as only ForceFist, and the other as KnuckleBuster. You rolled your eyes at the ridiculous names before they travel further down the page to photographs that were clipped to the front.

A small glance back up to the mutilated masses before you had you sighing heavily. This was going to take much longer than Stedman had.

--

-Summer-

“That’s not what happened!”

A soft chuckle sounded out in response. “Yes, it was! Jackie Martin came up and told me specifically-”

“Oh, come off it! Jackie Martin was always full of it, and you know it!” You sit up on your elbows to turn towards your friend. His tinted aviators make it impossible to see the expression carried in his eyes, but the slightest of smirks plastered across his face tells you he knows just how full of shit Jackie Martin was. Your lunch sits on a napkin next to your knee, somewhat forgotten as you both travelled down memory lane. The grass was sure to stain your khaki work skirt, but you were so far past caring about that you didn’t even bother worrying about it.

“Well-” Donald continued, holding up an annoyingly pointed finger, “She said that you were trying to kiss up to Dr. Johannesburg, which is why you were kicked from the class.”

“That is such-!” You felt your anger rising, even though the whole situation was nearing over half a decade ago now. “I left Dr. Johannesburg’s class because he was a sniveling prick who tried to look up girls’ skirts from the front of the auditorium. And that’s rich coming from her since last I heard, her and the esteemed doctor got married and had a second baby on the way.” A few pieces of grass pricked at the underside of your palm as you shifted your weight to lean back.

“Really?” Donald cocked his head towards you, straightening out the front of his always prim and proper suit. It almost drove you insane how incredible proper he always looked. More because it made you feel silly for always being somewhat disheveled than anything else.

“Yes, really! Have I ever lied to you?”

“Well-”

“Okay, it was a rhetorical question, Donald, you don’t need to outline every time I have.” You lay back on the grass again with a heavy sigh. The tree above the two of you was providing much-appreciated protection from the sun’s harsh rays. A soft breeze made the leaves shift this way and that, letting through glimmering beams of sunlight that danced over the grass around you.

He hummed, his eyes turned to his watch, checking how much longer you both had for your lunch break.

“Jackie Martin.” You scoffed to yourself, still festering over the aged memory. “Do you remember when that guy she was going out with kept coming over to our table at the one diner, what was it called? Jerry’s Diner or- Jack’s? Something with a J…”

“Yes, I remember that.” Donald said quickly, a small underlying edge to his tone. “It was Lori’s Diner.”

“Ah, so not with a J then?”

“Uh, considering it was Lori’s Diner, I’d say no.”

“Okay, don’t get snarky about it.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Anyways, do you remember that guy?”

There’s a brief few moments of silence, the longer it continued forward, uninterrupted, the wider your smile grew. You found yourself propping back up again to see Donald’s face. He was completely expressionless, to the point you knew it was forced. The smallest tint of red at the tip of his ears completely gave him away.

“Royce Fisher.” Donald finally said, clearing his throat.

“I knew it!” You sat completely forward, shifting forward on your knees. “I always wondered if that was what was going on!”

“Oh, please.” Donald scoffed, the edges of his mouth curling slightly upwards.

“Did Jackie ever find out that you and her boy-toy were-?”

“No, Jackie did not find out. And nothing happened until after they broke up, so.”

“But something did happen?”

“Oh, will you look at that! Breaks over, Mune. Better get back inside before they write you up again!” He’s already at his feet, leaving you behind without offering a hand up.

“Hold up, Donnie, what happened?” You’re grabbing the remainders of your food and your lunch bag as quickly as you can, tripping over roots as you bustle after him. “Donald, come on!”

--

“You should go see Mune, get that fixed up.”

Cecil glanced over at Director Radcliffe, huffing out a few labored breaths. His hand was clenched tightly around his forearm. “’s fine. It heals.”

“Needle pricks heal, Cecil. Even with normal skin, you’d have to go see a doctor for that. So go see your doctor.”

“She’s not a doctor.”

“Don’t push it, Agent.” Radcliffe flashed him a look before turning to talk with the other GDA agents who were arriving on the scene.

Cecil sighed, it turned somewhat into a grunt at the end as the pain splintered up his arm. She could rebuild him, but kept the pain receptors all intact? He considered arguing with the Director a bit longer, but after another spike of pain, he discarded it, heading out the door to whatever carrier they had that could return him to the Pentagon.

--

“This way?”

The nurse nodded, giving him a short goodbye before returning to the front desk. The GDA hospital had always proved to be somewhat of a maze for him. Cecil knew that down one hall, eventually, he would hit operation rooms, and then down another would be offices, but somehow, he always ended up standing in front of a tattered Coca-Cola machine that resided in a small sitting area. It had to of been from the fifties, corrosion was eating away at the edges, but for some reason it was still here.

Now he was headed down a hall that looked exactly like all the others, beige walls accented by the brown trim of the doors. He continued until he came across a door with a plaque that read: Mune.

So, it wasn’t Moon. He tightened his gaze on it, somehow more curious to see that it really was just Mune, like you said. It was most definitely a code name of some sort; he just wasn’t sure why. A knock at the door led to a quiet “Come in.”

You were sitting at your desk writing something on a small notepad. The majority of your desk lay littered with papers. Photos of past operations that had not progressed as well as Cecil’s sat out for you to study.

“Oh, Mr. Stedman.” You looked up from your notes and forced a tense smile. His hair had grown out now, a dusty blonde. Your eyes caught on the scarring near his mouth, and for a moment, you felt an undercurrent of annoyance bubble forward. “How might I assist you?”

He holds up his arm that has been bandaged somewhat haphazardly on the ride in. “The Director wanted me to have you look at this.”

You sighed internally. It’d only been a few months, and he was already messing up your work. “Alright, follow me.” You stood up, dusting off the front of your skirt. The trip down the hall was silent, painfully so. It was obvious to you that he was no more excited to see you than you were to see him.

Once inside the room, you sanitized your hands after grabbing the proper equipment you’d need. He sat down on the table, shifting uncomfortably.

“What was it?” Your question surprised you as much as him. You hadn’t been one to make small talk, but maybe it was just your curiosity poking through.

“This?”

“Is there another giant laceration waiting to show itself?”

“It was some- I don’t even know what it was.” He admitted, as you scooted your stool closer, adjusting the height, and unwrapping his arm. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a werewolf. Damn near looked like one.”

You shot him a quick glance that read ‘yeah, sure buddy’. Then you thought about it for a moment, and honestly, crazier has happened. With supers like The Immortal flying around, you were starting to feel unfazed by most of this stuff. “I guess it’s lucky this is all I have to fix up, then.” You cleaned the wound first, synthetic skin or not, his natural blood still left him vulnerable to infections.

“How has it been?” This time, the surprising question came from Cecil, followed by a tense silence.

“Fine.” You replied softly, beginning the stitching process. “It’s pretty quiet on my end of things, considering I could be fighting Werewolves, I suppose.” You bite back a smile, not returning his look that you can practically feel burning your face.

Cecil hums in agreement. He didn’t understand you. Back when he saw you daily, he took the time to practically study you. The way you slide into your professional persona, the sighs you let out when you thought he was sleeping. The tiredness that laced your features before you plastered on that ever-tightening smile. He wasn’t sure why you had such great distaste for him, but he didn’t take it personally. Maybe it was just how you treated everyone from the agency. With how long he’s known those guys, he beyond gets it. He couldn’t help having a level of respect for you. It wasn’t every day that you got entirely fitted with an artificial sleeve of skin. Radcliffe had made a comment that he was the first to survive, and that also wasn’t lost on him.

“I’ll point him your way next time I see him.”

“Why, thank you, that’s exactly what I need.” You glanced up at him only to be met with a solid grey gaze. Clearing your throat, you returned to the stitching, clearing the last two. Somehow it felt a little easier to talk to him, shrug off your professional all business side. “You’ve survived having your skin melted off, two weeks of my company, and a werewolf attack. From where I sit, it looks like we have the next director of the GDA on our hands.”

Cecil surprisingly didn’t joke back; instead, he lets out a groan, as if the idea repulsed him. “I would never become a director.”

You pause, cocking your head slightly to the side. “You don’t think they’d nominate you?”

“I’ve failed; people have died under my watch. No director should start with that kind of track record.”

You snorted, which had his eyes snapping back to you. “Mr. Stedman. If you think for one second that a single director in the history of the GDA has been elected without civilian casualties under their belt, you have done an excellent job at fooling yourself.”

“You think I’d have to fool myself into believing in the GDA?”

“I think you’d have to fool yourself into believing in man.” You responded back, letting a sterile air grow between you two before focusing your gaze on his freshly stitched arm. “You should be set. They’ll dissolve as you heal, so you don’t have to come in and have them removed. Just try to keep it clean, cover it when showering, you know the gist.”

“I do?”

“You’re telling me you’ve never had stitches before-? Oh.” You were sitting back with an arched brow just to see a small downturned smile on his face. “Mr. Stedman, don’t waste my time.” You sigh out, struggling against a genuine smile of your own.

You send him off without another glance, neither of you looking back as you go your separate ways.

--

-Autumn-

“That was stupid.” You sit in a chair next to the hospital bed, rubbing sleep out of your eyes. You’d been sitting in the same room for going on seventeen hours, only getting up for the routine bathroom run and grabbing a horrid ‘fresh’ cup of coffee. Battery acid, more like.

“No ‘Hello’?” Donald smiled weakly. It felt odd to see him without the aviators you’d grown accustomed to. Hell, you helped him pick them out when he first found out he needed a prescription. So much for ever flying a plane. Not that he wanted to, but you felt the need to constantly bring up that he’d never be able to due to the lack of 20/20 vision.

“I won’t be able to ever say hello to you ever again if you’re dead.” You looked haggard. You felt it to your soul how much your exhaustion was gripping you. The dull sting behind your eyeballs, how heavy the almost empty cup felt in your hands, the subtle clench of your stomach- That probably wasn’t related to your exhaustion, though.

“Yeah, my day’s going pretty okay. How about yours?”

“Stop it, Donald. This is serious.”

He sighed, turning his head to look at you. Half of his face was completely swollen up, giant welts forming from the blunt force of some villain of the week slamming him right in the face. More than once. The nurse had said something about a concussion and cranial fracturing, but the words had felt like mere mumbling to you. “What did you think this job was, Mune?”

“I didn’t think you’d be out there playing hero-”

“I’m not playing. This is my job.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Yes, it does.” Donald tries to sit up a few inches, grimacing against the throbbing pain in his head. “I appreciate your worries, but if you’re just going to lecture me, save yourself the time and go back to your notes.”

You start to bristle. Seventeen hours. Seventeen. You open your mouth to respond, say something about how selfish he is being, reckless with his life.

“Why don’t you put this kind of energy into when other people are hurt?”

That stops you in your tracks. “What?”

“You’re talented, you’ve created a whole new way to put people back together after horrific things happen. But you only use that talent for people deemed worthy by the director. Why?”

“Why?” You parrot, feeling an incredulous laugh building in your throat. “You’re sitting here justifying this by saying you’re just doing your job, but you’re going to judge me for just doing mine?”

“I’m trying to do good, are you?” Donald looks more serious than usual, even with a swollen eye; you can picture exactly how he’d look in prime condition.

“You don’t think I’m doing good?”

“You’ve put together three people, Frankenstein. Ten months and three people. You could do so much more.”

“This is a delicate- and- and new science, Donald. Do you know how many trials we had to go through to get just the three survivors?” This was groundbreaking technology. How could he just toss it aside like that? He knew how hard you were working. He’d come and kept you company more than once on your all-nighters, trying to crack the code. Find out what underlying factor you were missing. He knew how delicate this all was, especially while having to keep any operations completely confidential.

“You figured it all out months ago. Hundreds of people cycle through the GDA hospital every few days, with the rate of catastrophic events occurring. I don’t see you working with any of them.”

“How secret would this whole thing be if I were doing operations on every random Joe?” You scoff, sitting back. “Be realistic, Donald. That would cost thousands- hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

“So, none of these people are worth it?”

“Do you really want me to say it?”

Donald didn’t immediately respond, his gaze leaving yours. “But you believe you’re doing good?”

You set your jaw tight. Maybe he thought this would shift your perspective in some kind of way, have you admitting he was right, he definitely should be overly reckless with his life for strangers. “It really doesn’t matter. I’m doing what needs to be done. The outcome is what the director wants. That is perfectly good in my books.”

Donald just stares at you, expression still hardly readable. It made your skin feel prickly. You stood by what you said, Donald knows how you feel, it was never a problem before. Why now would this become an issue?

“Do you remember back in that Bio 101 class everyone had to take, when that girl threw up in class?” You’re jarred by the subject change.

“I guess?”

“Do you remember what you said to me when she left?”

“Probably something about how insanely pathetic it is to leave a Bio 101 class, like come on, even idiots have to take that class-”

“You asked if I would let you copy my notes later, because you were going to give yours to her.”

“Relevance?”

“It’s just interesting to see how things change, I suppose.” Donald looks disappointed at your response but doesn’t say anything past this statement.

You sigh, standing up. “I need to get some sleep; do you want me to bring anything back for you?”

--

You stand at the edge of the training room, examining as the blonde duo works on training. Rebuilding Forcefist and Knuckbuster had proven to be much more difficult than Stedman. Due to the nature of their intense body decay, you needed to create large amounts of muscle mass, not just the external epidermis layer.

“They aren’t able to build muscle mass as quickly as they were.” Redcliffe’s voice cut through the sound of fists pummeling into punching bags.

“It’s something I’m looking into. Muscle is a hard thing to replicate.”

“Well, look into it quicker.”

You bite your tongue, feeling your nostrils flare faintly.

“They aren’t healing fast enough either. Work on that.”

“Yes, director.” You clicked your pen closed, watching the two of them attack the bag as if it had personally affronted them. They were both idiots. Unable to hold a single conversation with you without spouting off into some rant against industrialism. You weren’t paid enough to care about them personally, but it was interesting to see how differently they reacted to the procedure in contrast to how Stedman had.

Hopefully, you wouldn’t have to talk to either of them, one on one, anytime soon.

--

-Winter-

What’s more ridiculous than having to attend a corporate Christmas party as someone who works for the government in a secret department that they can’t really discuss with any of the agents attending?

Not much.

This is more than ridiculous. It’s downright humiliating. In what world does a government organization need to participate in a sponsored event? It’s cheesy. It seems Director Radcliffe knew this would be the general consensus and decided to tie everyone’s paid time off to whether they show up, which is definitely a gross misuse of power.

So, now you’re standing at the entrance of the conference hall, waiting for any sign of the only person you know.

“You have to attend these things too?”

You turn to see a familiar face, but not the one you were looking for. “Apparently.” You state dryly. “I see that you couldn’t manage to get out of it. No werewolves around to rip you a new one?”

“Funny.” He gives you a tight smile, his eyes trailing over the tables that had replaced the original seating arrangement in the room.

“Someone’s sour.”

“I miss having days off.” He sighs.

“Then quit.”

Your eyes met and, in that moment, there was a small, quiet understanding. Both of you were tied to this job more than the average worker. Quitting wasn’t a real option, but it was nice to muse on about it.

“I’ll put in my notice on Monday.” He responded, a small smile growing, the action accentuating the scar that marbled across his face.

“Mmm.” You hummed, pretending to think. “Ah, Christmas will probably mess that up; you should wait until after.”

“You’re right. So, the Monday after next?”

“Well, then New Year’s-”

“Next month, the Monday after New Year’s.” He leans against the banister on the other side of the door, mirroring your stance.

“You don’t want to miss Groundhog Day, do you?”

“No, you’re right. Guess I have to stay on.”

“Aw darn.” You frowned. “Sorry, that didn’t work out.”

“Eh, I heard the job market’s for shit right now.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, not big options for a guy with a massive scar on his face.”

“If only that could have been avoided.” Your words came out slightly bitter.

He smiled a bit more at that, eyes soft. “You sitting with someone?”

“I’m supposed to be.” You sighed, looking over your shoulder. “He’s probably run into something…hopefully it’s not a werewolf- I’ve heard they’re becoming a real problem.”

“Is this going to become a whole thing?” He pursed his lips, an unimpressed expression ghosting over his face.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He pushes himself off the column, finally taking the steps to go inside. “Merry Christmas, Mune.”

“Happy Holidays, Mr. Stedman.”

He shakes his head while walking away. You watch him as long as you can before he’s lost to the crowd.

“Who was that?”

You turn back to Donald, who’d finally arrived. “You’re late.”

“I told you I would be. Who was that?”

“Some agent.” You shrugged.

--

It was past midnight, some ungodly hour of the morning. You’d received a call that you were needed back at the GDA immediately. You could hardly get dressed before you found yourself behind the steering wheel of your car. You’re not sure if any of the lights you passed under were green; everything that had been said over the telephone had been muffled, stated in exceedingly quick succession. Something about an attack on the Pentagon, the Lizard League, and casualties. As you pull up, large bustles of armored agents surround the entrance. Red lighting peaks through the doors. As you exit the car, you can already smell the smoke; it’s billowing out of the building, hanging thick in the air. Suffocating.

“Where’s Director Radcliffe?”

“Are you Dr. Mune?” An unarmored agent turns towards you as you quickly approach.

“Just Mune. Where is he?”

“I will escort you-”

“I know the building. Where is he?”

The agent hesitates, looking at the others around them. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I was instructed to bring you personally.”

You grit your teeth, far too tired to fight this further. “What are we waiting for then?”

“This way.”

The halls are dark, the dim flashing red light proving to be your only source of light. The further in you travel, the more devastated the way looks. Within the first turn, you’re stepping over a dismembered body. No one you recognize, maybe a secretary, someone who worked with the computers. No one you’d ever know the name of. With every step, you only saw more bodies. Puddles of blood appeared black in the scarlet light. The wall had been caved in where the conference hall was. Weird to think just a few weeks ago, you and Donald were sitting inside, making quiet jabs at the attending members,

Donald. The thought sends a chill down your spine. What were the chances that this was who this was about? Minimum, right? He’s supposed to be off today- Your pace is quickening, following the trail of rubble and bloodshed. At the end of the hall, you find your eyes trailing over someone you do recognize. A nurse. She worked with you to complete the procedure on the two recent patients. Her name was…Hannah…or maybe Racheal. Her intestinal track is outside of the confines of her body, dirt and rubble sticking to it like a popsicle dropped in sand.

“Mune.”

You snap your attention over to the voice, clambering over a large slab of concrete. “What happened?” You try not to immediately ask about Donald, but nothing else seems to matter.

“Can you fix this?”

You pause, grimacing as your ankle rolls over a few shards you’re stepping over. “Fix what-?” Your gaze drops to the two people you had worked for months to perfect. Hundreds of hours of work, lying in a bloody puddle in front of you. “What happened?”

“Cocky fuckin’ agent-” He muttered, rubbing at the left side of his face, smearing blood up his cheekbones. Both eyes were affected, a generous amount of blood was coating his face, as well as his suit. He was leaning on the shoulder of another agent you’d never seen before.

“Director, what happened?”

“Stedman shot them.” He spat out a mouthful of blood, grimacing deeply at the scene before him.

“Why?” You shook your head, but even as you asked, you had an inkling as to why. After all, you’d read their files.

“Can you fix this?” He repeated, not answering your other question.

You looked down at them. Both of them sport giant gaping holes through their heads. Their eyes froze open, staring upwards at the ceiling. “They’re dead, Radcliffe. I can’t do anything now.” A small pause. “You know I can’t do anything now.” You can hear the distant sirens, the sounds of boots marching through the halls to collect the dead. “Where’s Mr. Stedman now?”

“In custody. He just murdered these two in cold blood.”

Author's note: Cecil I love you pls don't go bald! Donald I love you so so so much, pls don't die! All comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated!! Please say hi!! Ask to be put on the taglist as well :3

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: (I know some people asked to be put on but I lowkey forgot who did, sorry 💔)

Chapter two

[toxicrelief]

Hope everything is ok!! The world misses you and your chapters.

I’m alive!! I’ve just been super busy with work, and I made the mistake of getting Date Everything 💔 I’m a few thousand words into the next chapter and the chapter after it, as well as a few thousand into the Cecil fic!! I’m hoping to have at least one ready to post by Monday. I haven’t forgotten any of you :3 LOVE YOU ALLLL

Edit: I’ve also been going back and rewriting/ revamping earlier chapters because I was so fresh to writing and some of it I really don’t like 💔💔 but we’re getting somewhere!!

[toxicrelief]

hi date everything tumblr...... here's my offerinf please accept me

[toxicrelief]

She would, let's be honest here

+ bonus because I think dipper would absolutely LOVE Chance