becausetheplotsaidso - Tumblr blog

[becausetheplotsaidso]

In light of JK’s new book, here’s a link to donate to the UK Charity Mermaids who help provide support to trans and gender diverse children and young people!

And here’s a link to the trans rights carrd and the black trans lives matter carrd!! Even if you can’t donate signing petitions can do a lot of good!

Love you all, especially my beautiful trans and non binary followers out there! Keep being the most incredible souls! 💕💖💕💖

[becausetheplotsaidso]

turns out it’s more fun to write gta fic than it is to actually play gta

[becausetheplotsaidso]

you know that feeling when you actually manage to write something and get out 3k words in one day?

yeah today’s been a good day for me

[becausetheplotsaidso]

Maternal Instinct

Cross-posted from ao3 

Angus slumped to the floor and leaned against the wall of the training room, breathing a little hard. He was slightly dizzy. When Taako had agreed to teach him magic, he hadn't said it would be this hard. Then again, maybe for him it wasn't. 

"Okay," Angus said quietly, tipping his head back and resting it on the wall, "maybe I won't try that one again for today." 

Killian gave him a toothy grin as she handed him a waterskin and accepted his gratitude with a nod. She took it back from him after he'd had a drink. 

"You look like you shouldn't try any more spells for today," Killian told him, sitting beside him. She shifted an inch away, careful not to touch him. She, Carey, and NO-3113 rarely touched him unless he asked, which he appreciated. "I think you're out of spell slots." 

Angus took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He knew she was right. 

"It's okay," he said. "I can try again tomorrow." 

Killian shot him a look. "Are you sure you should be pushing yourself this hard?" Killian asked. "I'll admit, I don't know much about magic, but I know how muscle training works. If you want to get stronger, you don't keep going until you collapse every day." 

"Yes, ma'am," Angus said. "I know. But I want to be able to help my friends." He watched dully as Killian waved Carey over from where she was grabbing towels for her mammalian companions. 

"What makes you think you aren't helping now?" Killian asked. "Since you're such a good detective, I'm sure you've noticed this, but people who are useless don't tend to last long at the Bureau." 

Carey sat on Angus's other side as Killian spoke, also making sure to leave space between them, and let out a soft noise of understanding. She caught Killian's eye and nodded. 

"And even if you weren't the world's greatest detective," said Carey, master- or mistress- of picking up on context clues, "you'd be useful just for the way you make us smile. We could use more smiles around this place." 

Angus would be the first to admit he wasn't very good at social cues. But recently, Carey had been giving him lessons, and he couldn't detect any condescension or pity in their voices. And he'd learned enough to tell that they weren't mocking or teasing him. 

"And you're really getting the hang of making people laugh," Killian added. 

Angus swelled with pride. It was one of the greatest compliments he'd ever been given. 

"Thank you," he said, beaming. Killian and Carey smiled at each other. 

"So what's this about?" Carey asked, handing over the towels she'd grabbed. "What's got you down, Angus?" 

"Well, I," Angus said, fumbling his words a bit, "I see everyone else working so hard to help, but all I can do is give advice, and I, I'm worried that maybe I'm not doing enough." 

Carey snorted. Angus flinched a little and turned to face her, afraid she was laughing at him. When he saw the very serious look in her eyes, he settled somewhat. 

"Angus," she said, "you're in this training room every day. When you aren't working, you're practicing your magic. And when you aren't practicing your magic, you're reading every book about magic the library has. What more do you think you could be doing?" 

"I-" Angus started, and then stopped. She had a point. He stared down at the towel in his hands instead of trying to finish what he was saying. 

"Listen, kid," Killian said, "you don't get good at something overnight. You've come a long way already. But these things take time. And sometimes, the best thing you can do to improve is to take a break." 

"That's a great idea," said Carey, jumping to her feet. "We should take the day off tomorrow!" 

Angus stared at her in shock and horror, but stood when Killian did. Neither of them offered him a hand to help him up. He found he was dizzy again. 

"But, but, don't we have work to do tomorrow?" Killian and Carey were sporting matching grins, which all but guaranteed trouble. Hopefully for someone who wasn't Angus. NO-3113 drifted past the open door of the training room. Killian spotted her, exchanged a look with Carey, and took off running. 

"Don't worry about it," Carey said. "We'll take care of it. Do you want to get ice cream?" 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Angus asked, knowing his fear was coming through in his voice. "What if there's an emergency tomorrow and you get sent on a mission?" 

"Then we'll do it when we come back," Carey told him matter-of-factly, like it really was as simple as that. And like there wasn't a very real possibility that a mission, any mission, could kill them. 

"And when we come back," she continued. 

"If you come back," said Angus, barely above a whisper. 

"When we come back," Carey repeated, louder this time, "we'll all go out for ice cream. And you can tell us all the gossip that we missed while we were gone." She was smiling widely, cheerful in the face of danger. Angus could feel an answering smile beginning to form on his own face. 

"I don't know why we didn't think of this the moment you came," she continued. "Killian loves ice cream, but she almost never lets herself eat any. This is the perfect excuse." Angus had already known that, but he made his face into an expression he'd learned meant surprise anyway, as was polite. Carey noticed, because of course she did, and rolled her eyes in a way Angus guessed to be pointed. 

"You don't have to pretend not to know things around us, kiddo. You should know that by-" Carey stopped as she caught herself. "Nope, sorry, we've never told you that. We should have; our bad." 

Killian was coming back in, waving at someone, presumably NO-3113, over her shoulder. She gave Carey a thumbs up. 

"Awesome," Carey said, stretching. "Ice cream tomorrow it is." 

"NO-3113 was on her way to the Director's office anyway," Killian told her. "Something about Leon?" 

"He requested a transfer," said Angus. Carey and Killian looked at him, their eyes wider than normal. Surprised, probably. 

"Well, you can tell us the details tomorrow," Killian said with finality. "Now, do you want me or Carey to tuck you in?" 

"What?" Angus must have misheard that. Killian repeated the question, and both she and Carey were staring at him a little too closely. 

"You didn't hurt your head at all did you?" Carey asked. "I mean, you are swaying on your feet but I figured it was from being too tired." 

"Same here," Killian said. "How are you feeling? Any nausea?" 

"I don't have a concussion, but thank you for your concern," Angus politely told them. "I just- who's ever heard of a ten year old getting tucked in?" 

"Oh, is that all?" Carey asked. "You had me worried, kiddo! And don't worry about it so much; Boyland used to tuck me in all the time." 

Angus looked to Killian for verification. She nodded. 

"Of course, it was usually when I'd worn myself out practicing my sweet flips," Carey continued, and something was off about her voice. Probably something to do with Boyland's death. "He'd make sure I got back to my room and tuck me into bed." 

"And made sure you had plenty of water," Killian added. She handed Angus back the waterskin she'd offered him earlier. He drank, mostly because she was glaring at him until he did. 

"Well, anyway," Carey said with a sigh, "if you're too old to be tucked in, you're too old for a piggyback ride. Right, Killian?" 

Killian grinned. 

"Yep." 

Angus was torn. On the one hand, he was being played and he knew it. On the other, he really did like piggyback rides. He hadn't gotten many before coming to the Bureau. Plus, his dizziness had gotten worse, and he wasn't entirely sure he could make it back to his room without falling down. 

"Killian, may I please have a piggyback ride to my room?" Angus asked meekly. 

She grinned at him then turned around and crouched, waiting for him to climb onto her back. He handed Carey the waterskin and then clambered up, throwing his arms around Killian's neck. She stood, and Carey handed Angus back the water. 

"Okay," Killian said enthusiastically, "next stop, Angus's room!" 

The ride back was fairly quick, with Killian walking fast enough that Carey had to jog to keep up. Angus was careful to drink every drop left of the water, eager to avoid a scolding, even one as kind as the ones Killian and Carey gave him. Killian crouched again outside his door so he could dismount, and neither of his friends left once he had the door unlocked. It seemed that, true to their word, he was going to get tucked in whether he liked it or not. They did wait outside until he changed into his pajamas, though. 

While Carey grabbed a glass of water to set on Angus's bedside table, Killian tucked Angus in. For someone so strong, she could be very gentle. 

"Hey, Angus," she said, tucking the covers around him, "one more thing." 

"Yes?" 

"It's okay to let yourself be a kid, you know that, right?" Killian was looking at him intently. "You're the only kid around here, so nobody's going to tease you if you get tucked in or get piggyback rides." 

Angus found himself staring at her. He hadn't thought of that. 

"You don't have to grow up too fast, not anymore," said Killian, standing. "Now, where did Carey go?" 

"She's trying to avoid tucking me in because it would remind her of Boyland, and she doesn't want to cry," Angus said before he could stop himself. He knew Carey was standing just out of sight, listening to make sure he was going to be okay. He was proved right when she appeared through the doorway, wearing an expression Angus couldn't name. 

"Got me again, kid," she said. She didn't sound angry. "Here's your water." 

Angus mumbled an apology but Carey shook her head, smiling sadly. She let Killian take her hand, and Angus politely averted his eyes. 

"Goodnight, Angus," Killian said. "I'm going to give you a goodnight kiss on your forehead, okay?" 

After Angus nodded, blushing, she kissed him softly. Carey held up a hand instead, and grinned when he high fived her. 

"Goodnight, kiddo," she said. "You know we care about you, right?" 

They waited until Angus, blushing harder, nodded, and then quietly left, blowing out the lantern and shutting his door on their way out. He eventually fell asleep, smiling into his pillow, more excited about ice cream than he could ever remember being in his life.

[becausetheplotsaidso]

in my defense, i actually am writing something right now

it’s not very good, but i am writing something

[becausetheplotsaidso]

It was early, and Chin wasn’t expecting anybody to be in HQ- they didn’t even have a case. But there was Danny, sitting in his office and glaring into his coffee.

“You all right, man?” Chin asked.

Danny startled, narrowly avoiding sloshing his drink down his front. He turned, wincing a little, but relaxed when he saw Chin.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just tired.”

Chin nodded sagely, holding his own coffee up in salute. It earned him the barest hint of a grin.

None of them had been sleeping well. A case that had seemed routine had gone south in a big way. It ended up being the sort of thing a cop’s nightmares are made of. The little girl at the center of it had shaken them all to the core. She was Grace’s age.

“Bad dreams?” Chin asked.

Danny nodded. He came around his desk, mug out before him like a talisman. He drained it, then headed for a refill.

“Spent half the night outside Gracie’s bedroom door.” Danny took a long drink of fresh coffee and sighed. “It was the only way I could get any sleep. Probably scared her half to death when she tripped over me this morning. I guess Rachel can add child endangerment to the list of my many crimes against her and humanity at large.”

“You didn’t ask Steve over to stand guard?” Chin asked, smiling a little too knowingly.

From the look he got, it was pretty obvious Danny had thought about it. More than once.

“I didn’t want to bother him,” Danny said. “He needs his sleep.”

Chin glanced out the window. Steve was struggling to get himself, his rather sizable coffee, and an even larger, grease-stained bag of what were probably malasadas out of his truck. Within seconds, his clothes were completely soaked.

“Somehow,” Chin said, “I don’t think he got much sleep either.”

- - - - -

Steve dropped his bag of probably malasadas on the nearest flat surface and made a beeline for his office, dripping water all the way. He barely nodded a hello to Danny, and didn’t seem to notice Chin at all (which actually wasn’t all that unusual when Danny was in the room).

Danny seemed almost more upset about Steve’s behavior than he did about not sleeping. He, too, holed himself up in his office, squinting at his paperwork with more determination than comprehension.

If that was how their fearless leaders looked, Chin was glad he hadn’t bothered to check the mirror before leaving his house. There wasn’t enough coffee on all the islands combined to get Five-O out the doors today. It was probably too much to hope that the criminals were feeling similarly lethargic.

And, their luck being what it’d been all week, the governor was due to call any minute.

Chin grimaced, downed his coffee, and tried to decide which boss was the lesser of two evils.

- - - - -

“Hey, Steve. We got any cases today?” Chin asked.

Steve jumped and only barely managed to keep his elbow from tipping his coffee onto his desk. He blinked up at Chin for a minute.

“What?”

Chin bit back a sigh.

“Anything we need to take care of?” Chin said, a bit slower. None of them had gotten enough sleep for any of this. “Any cases?”

Steve shook his head. He ran a hand through his wet hair and glanced toward Danny’s office.

“No. We’re on paid leave until further notice.”

Chin sent a silent thank you to any god who might have been listening. He leaned on Steve’s doorframe, trying for casual but knowing he’d missed it by a lot.

“I’ll just go home, then,” Chin said. It took Steve, who was gazing mournfully in Danny’s general direction, longer than it should have to reply.

“What? Oh, yeah, that’s fine. We’ll, uh, we’ll let you know if anything comes up,” Steve assured Chin.

Steve was watching Danny get another cup of coffee. Chin thought the SEAL looked a little bit like a puppy who’d been denied a bone.

“He didn’t call you, huh?” Chin couldn’t help but ask. It was vague enough to give them both a way out, but Chin had a feeling Steve wanted to talk.

“No,” his boss said, frowning. “I mean, I know it’s really more of a symbolic thing, but he could’ve asked.”

Ah, yes. There he was: Tired Steve. The best way to get Steve to talk, they’d found, was to make sure he was sleep-deprived and then given at least four cups of coffee. The resulting exhausted, jittering with caffeine man was much more open to spilling his guts. (The rest of Five-O figured the bad guys hadn’t listened to enough island gossip to give Steve coffee before interrogating him.)

“I know she’s Danny’s kid, not mine,” Steve continued, “but I still wanna keep her safe. She matters to me.”

Chin managed to keep from rolling his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the fond smile. Steve looked so put out.

“Hold that thought,” said Chin.

- - - - -

Danny was significantly less surprised to see Chin.

“Do we have a case?”

“Nope,” Chin said, giving Danny a toothy grin. “Paid leave.”

Danny slumped down in his seat, obviously relieved. His eyes flicked toward Steve’s office.

“Think Steve’s gonna be okay with that?” asked Danny. “I give it a week before he calls the governor for a case.”

“I’d usually agree with you,” Chin said, “but he’ll probably need a few hours of sleep first. I don’t think he got any at all last night.”

“What?” Danny frowned, clearly surprised. “Don’t tell me the moron decided that only mere mortals need sleep and, I don’t know, ran up and down a mountain until the sun came up?”

Chin laughed.

“No,” he said. “I think he was just worried about you and Grace. You know how he is. He can’t let himself believe you’re safe unless he’s actually there to protect you. He’s like a large German Shepard.”

“Control issues.” Danny nodded sagely. He thought for a moment and then said, “You’re saying I shoulda called him last night, aren’t you?”

Chin’s grin shifted into a sheepish smile.

“Uh huh,” said Danny, “I thought so. Chin, and let me first say that I appreciate you keeping quiet about my inadvisable crush on my idiot of a partner, I don’t see any way that calling Steve over to my house late at night and asking him to sleep over could possibly end well.”

“Liar,” Chin said.

Danny’s cheeks flushed pink. He didn’t meet Chin’s eyes as he said, “I cannot believe you just went there. You, my friend, have a terrible, dirty mind. I’ll think about asking him to stay over tonight, okay? But I’m only saying I’m gonna think about it. Now, go far away.”

As Chin reached the door, Danny said, “You really have too much time on your hands, you know that? Don’t think this won’t come up on your annual performance review.”

Chin laughed softly and waved a hand in acknowledgement, but didn’t turn back or reply.

- - - - -

All right, Danny had a point- Chin did have an awful lot of time on his hands.

He’d texted Kono three times. She’d called after the third one, clearly checking her phone between waves. (A little rain wasn’t gonna keep her from her morning surf, especially this week.) Her answer to his question of what to do with their bosses had mainly consisted of laughter. It seemed like the first laughter he’d heard in a long time.

“If you can get them to make some progress before I get there, I’ll buy you lunch for the rest of the week,” she promised. “It’s been years at this point and neither of them has made a move. Years.”

“Prepare yourself for a lighter wallet, cuz,” Chin laughed. “But feel free to catch some extra waves. You deserve it.”

Kono snorted.

“Uh huh,” she said. “You’re already planning where we’re eating tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“I’m just saying, you’re not missing much around here. You might as well take your time.” Chin’s smile grew as he talked. “How does steak sound?”

“Awful.”

Steve came back around the time Chin hung up. He had a towel that he’d found somewhere draped around his neck, and he looked significantly drier than he had the last time Chin saw him.

Steve seemed to see Chin this time, and wandered over. He was frowning a little.

“Is Danny okay?” he asked. “He didn’t yell at me for getting the floor wet. I was expecting a full lecture on safety in the workplace.”

Chin hid a smile. Of course Steve would worry.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Chin said. “Could probably use some space for a few minutes, though.”

Before he was even finished speaking, Chin knew it was a stupid thing to say. Steve was going to understand it to mean Danny was in danger or something.

Sure enough, Steve was halfway to Danny’s office before Chin turned around. He shook his head, and decided to shelter in his office from the inevitable explosion. It didn’t take long.

“Steven, we have had a long week, which is the only reason I am not going to throw you out of my office on your ass.” Danny wasn’t yelling, not exactly, but his painfully calm voice was far too loud for indoors. “I am a grown ass man and I do not need a goddamn babysitter! Now,” he said, and his voice was frigid, “get out.”

Chin couldn’t resist glancing over. He saw Steve slinking away, shoulders hunched and tail between his legs.

- - - - -

For quite a while the only sound was the rain. Chin had been slowly going insane since joining Five-O (or possibly before that, if you asked his ex-fiancee), but having nothing to do was speeding up the process. He’d already set the computers to update, gone to the bathroom twice, drank the dregs of the pot of coffee and made a fresh one, finished all of his paperwork and done all that he could of Kono’s as well. He could go home, like he’d said to Steve, but listening to the rain in his empty house was less than appealing.

Now, sitting in silence with his newest cup of steaming caffeine, he was openly staring at Danny. It took a few minutes until Danny’s finely tuned cop instincts made him look up and meet Chin’s eyes. Chin tipped his head in the direction of Steve’s office and raised his eyebrows, earning him an eyeroll.

Chin frowned, which earned him another eyeroll, but Danny nodded reluctantly and stood.

“Hey,” he said as he reached Steve’s office, “where d'you take your truck when it’s acting up? Camaro needs a new battery, I think.”

“What?” said Steve. From this angle, Chin couldn’t see his face, but he could hear the surprise and confusion in his voice.

“The car battery, Steven,” Danny sighed. “Try to keep up, will ya?”

“Oh.” Most of Steve’s head appeared as he stood and walked around to the other side of his desk to sit on its edge. Probably with his arms and legs crossed. “You don’t need to apologize. You were right- it has been a long week.”

Chin shifted slightly to get a better view, as some of the offices clearly hadn’t been designed with a cop’s natural nosiness in mind. (Chin made a mental note to bring it up with Steve.) Danny’s forehead was turning pink.

“I’m not apologizing,” he said.

“Sure,” Steve said, (probably) gesturing offhandedly. “But if you were, you wouldn’t need to.”

Chin groaned under his breath. This was going to take longer than he’d thought.

“But,” continued Steve, “I bet I could help with the battery thing. I mean, I can replace the battery for you, you don’t need to take it anywhere.”

“Awesome. Could you, uh, could you do that tonight, maybe?” Danny asked. “I have to take Grace to school tomorrow, and I’d rather have my car as safe as possible.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course I can. I just have to double check what kind of battery it needs.” Steve’s brow was thoroughly furrowed. “But, you know that the battery doesn’t actually have anything to do with how safe the-”

“Steven. Just say you’ll help, and bring yourself, the battery, a change of clothes, and a toothbrush over to my place in time for dinner.”

“I can do that,” Steve said.

Danny ducked out of Steve’s office and headed to his own, face bright red.

Kono walked in then, hair wet from ocean and rain. Chin winked at her and nodded over at Danny. She grinned back, dropped her bag off at her desk, snagged the malasadas, and nonchalantly (more or less) bounced into Chin’s office, steps light and happy, ready for all the juicy details.

It was a good thing, Chin decided, that he and his cousin only ever used their powers for good. He was even more sure of it the next day, when he saw Danny and Steve holding hands when they thought no one was looking.

[becausetheplotsaidso]

How this son of a bitch got the drop on Super SEAL Steve, Danny will never know. There's a gun pointed right at Steve's temple, and Danny is starting to consider retiring after this case. Then again, if he did Steve'd be dead by the end of the week. And Grace really does like the big goof. Steve, though, doesn't have the decency to even look mildly worried. "Just shoot him," he says. Okay, what? No. "Are you insane-?" asks Danny. "You know what, no, don't answer that. I know you are." Steve huffs out a breath. "Danny, do you really think this is the time?" He waves his hand vaguely at the man holding him. If Steve doesn't come out of this with a bullet in his head, Danny might kill him anyway. "Listen to me, Steven, and listen to me very carefully. You are not actually bulletproof. You do know that, right?" Steve sighs in a way that somebody in mortal peril really shouldn't. And that only somebody who goes through mortal peril on a daily basis could. "Neither is he," Steve says. "Just take the shot." (Danny could shoot him now and nobody would know the difference.) Steve's captor is looking between them like they've lost their minds. Given their record on things like this- or, hell, anything- Danny can't really blame him. "Oh, yes, of course," says Danny, with as much sarcasm as he can muster. "Obviously that's the best way to get through this." "Danny, would you do what I ask you to just this once?" Danny's been married. He knows those words, and he knows them in that exact tone. "Is this about that time I didn't call Mary?" he asks. "Because I was a little preoccupied with the bullet wound in your stomach." It's an old argument, and Steve responds the same way he always does. "You really couldn't have taken two seconds to call my sister and tell her I wasn't dead?" Their friendly neighborhood asshole chooses this point to remind them of his continuing existence. "You two about done? This is worse than my brother and his wife." Steve looks surprised for a second. Only he could forget a gun to his head. Seriously, why does Danny even bother? The gunman starts to ramble about his family or something (Danny can't be bothered to give a shit), and Steve rolls his eyes. It takes him no time at all to use one of his fancy SEAL moves to get the bastard on the ground. Danny's already stepping forward, cuffs out, when Steve speaks. "Book 'em, Danno." Danny smacks the side of his partner's head, maybe a little harder than necessary. Once the criminal is cuffed, he hands him over to Kono and turns back to Steve. "Never do that again," is all Danny says, and then he grabs Steve and pulls him into a rough embrace. "Do it again and I swear I'm gonna shoot through you." Steve just grins at him.

[becausetheplotsaidso]

Dean’s not sure he’s ever been so happy. Not since he was a kid, anyway. Maybe not since his mom died.

It’s Christmas, again. Still manages to come around every year, despite whatever the hell is trying to end the world. Somehow Christmas always happens. And this year, Sam’s beaming away like the past who knows how long never even happened.

And then there’s Cas, his Cas, wrapped up in blankets and sitting on the couch. He might not be much of an angel anymore, but he’s definitely family. He’s sticking around, too, for the long haul.

He gave Dean his word on that, one chilly April morning somewhere in the Midwest. Dean can remember where, now, can’t be bothered to. What he does remember is the way Cas had been so afraid of rejection, but so full of hope. So earnest in his desire to stay, and stay, and never leave again.

Dean remembers how his angel’s face had lit up when told he belonged. He remembers the warmth of the arms around him, the lips against his. He remembers that night, too, in vivid detail.

But now there’s eggnog with too much booze, and cheesy Christmas specials on the television, and Sam singing something dreadful off-key. There’s a fire and a tree, complete with presents, an angel and good food. There was a pie at one point, but it’s long-gone.

There’s cheer here, as well, no matter what they’ve been through. Because this year, they’re a family again.

[becausetheplotsaidso]

The first time Steve gets taken away in an ambulance, Danny doesn’t even hesitate. He climbs in the back with the stretcher as Chin yells something about meeting them at the hospital.

Danny’s saying something, he can feel his mouth moving, but he has no idea what it is. He really hopes it’s relevant because otherwise he’s just taking the paramedics’ attention away from where it should be. After a minute, he hears enough that he realizes it’s Steve’s medical history, as much of it as he knows. Which, as it turns out, is a lot.

It’s not like they’ve ever had a discussion about this kind of thing. But after a few years, it’s pretty easy to pick up on this kind of thing.

Hell, Danny’s known Steve’s blood type from the first day. Even Super SEAL Steve needs a fresh pint or two when he gets shot.

But it’s weird; Danny and Rachel were married for years, and he doesn’t even know if she’s ever had the chicken pox. (Steve did, when he was six. He had just about everything, actually, which might explain why he never gets sick now.)

The ride to the hospital feels like an eternity before Steve’s eyes slowly blink open and catch Danny’s. Everything narrows down and slows to a halt and Danny should be the one on the stretcher because he can’t breathe and everything’s tilting sideways-

Steve smiles, slow and shaky, and his hand finds Danny’s.

[becausetheplotsaidso]

Coulson's voice is calm, steady, as he takes the Avengers through the extraction strategy. His face is neutral, apart from a faint crease between his eyebrows. His hands are shaking. Steve looks away, focuses his attention on rechecking the medical equipment around him. There's not much he can do while they're en route, and it's driving him nuts. The Avengers reach the location ten minutes later. Everything Tony's seeing is being displayed on a gigantic screen, and he obeys Steve's request for an aerial shot without a word. Steve directs Thor and the Hulk to stay outside and provide a distraction. He reminds them to keep actual casualties to a minimum and gets a growl for his effort, but he knows they'll do what they can. Tony scoops Natasha up and carries her inside the complex. A quick scan reveals Clint to be holed up in an air duct, and they head for him. In a few minutes, they're close enough that Steve can tell just how badly the mission went.  Clint's trying to keep pressure on his wound but it's an awkward angle and his hands keep slipping. Natasha manages to wrangle his shredded clothing into a bandage, winds more around him to hold it. Her hands are fast and efficient, deft and sure despite only having Tony's arc reactor for light. When he's as stable as she came make him, Natasha slips off. She needs to complete the op, and she doesn't have any time to waste. Tony has Clint out of the building in record time. Steve hears Coulson let out a slow, careful breath. When he turns to look, the agent's eyes are fixed on Clint's face, way at the bottom of the screen. There's a bright flash followed by a crack of thunder. The plane rocks slightly, just enough that Steve knows they're close. Tony is cursing under his breath at a furious pace, but Steve tunes him out. When they land, Steve grabs a stretcher and runs toward the Quinjet. For all his superhuman speed, Coulson is managing to keep pace. Tony greets them with a yell and leans down to say something to Clint. He's still conscious, then. Coulson's hands are shaking too much for him to be of any help, and besides, he knows Clint better. Steve pulls out what Bucky'd call his "captain voice" and directs him to grab their patient's hand to keep him calm. It works. As soon as the four of them are in, the plane starts to move. Natasha will have no trouble flying the rest of them home. Steve grabs a syringe, sends the contents into Clint's bloodstream, and the effect is almost immediate. The lines of tension around Clint's eyes ease, and his grip on Coulson's hand slackens a bit. Tony, half out of his armor, has a blood bag ready to go. Steve takes a second to squeeze his shoulder, an acknowledgement of a job well done, and goes back to stabilizing their teammate. Twenty minutes and two pints of blood later, and Coulson's still holding Clint's hand. "Phil," Clint mumbles, slurred and slow from drugs, "did I ever tell you how hot you look in black?"

Clint/Phil au in which the Avengers know Coulson is alive

Clint gets hurt on an op for SHIELD. On the way home, high on painkillers. he tells Phil something he otherwise wouldn’t.

[becausetheplotsaidso]

Getting beers without Kono is all sorts of weird.

Cath’s a great girl, Danny likes her (she makes Steve happy and keeps him slightly less homicidal, of course he likes her). But she isn’t Kono.

Chin doesn’t say much. He smiles, but it’s that little one he brings out when he’s worried or he’s thinking about Malia. Danny kinda hates that smile.

It’s not Cath’s fault- God knows, it’s not her fault, but when she slips away under some flimsy pretense, none of them call her back.

And Danny kinda hates himself for that.

[becausetheplotsaidso]

It finally kicks in for Jim when Spock's parents (very easy to see where Spock got his, well, everything, and even easier to see how being here, with Jim, has changed him) are onboard the Enterprise.

[becausetheplotsaidso]

Really sorry about all this But a new fic is on the way, actually three... Maybe four And then I'll work on the older ones

[becausetheplotsaidso]

If the rain doesn’t start soon, Bones is gonna break out the hypos. He’s not sure how much more of this he can take.

“Booooooones,” Jim whines (he sounds like a goddamn three year old- except wait, Bones has lived with a three year old, and it wasn’t this annoying). “It’s hoooooot, make it stooooop.” “That’s not even possible, so shut up before I-” Bones stops halfway through his sentence and screws up his face into a tight grimace. “What haven’t I already threatened you with?” Jim is sticking his tongue out like the petulant child he is, and Spock responds instead. “I believe you have yet to suggest igniting his clothing with the aid of a magnifying device.” Spock’s voice is as dry as the desert they’re stuck in, and he looks as cool and composed as ever. Then again, this is probably all sorts of comfortable for him, the goblin. Jim has taken to sticking his tongue out at Spock instead, so Bones counts it as a win. Speaking of sticking, if it weren’t mostly impossible (nothing is ever truly impossible with Jim around), Bones would be worried about their clothes merging with their skin. He’s a southern boy born and bred, and he’s no stranger to heat or humidity (or long stretches of both at the same time), but back home he could at least fix himself a mint julep. No such niceties here. There’s a flash of light, though the rain still hasn’t hit them. They don’t hear the thunder for a good fifteen seconds after, either. Jim is listing to the side, his head lolling a little. Spock is on that side of him though, so Bones doesn’t have to worry about any head injuries. Not yet anyway. The day is still young. Spock, face turned toward the storm, looks over when Jim’s head hits his shoulder. His eyes are open a fraction wider than normal, a tell he’s not quite managed to break. He doesn’t move Jim off. Bones sends him a knowing look that Spock pointedly ignores in favor of sniffing the air or whatever he was doing. “Never play poker,” Bones advises, and he has to elaborate when Spock looks at him blankly. “Sure, most people wouldn’t know it, but you’re too damn easy to read, you fool.” There’s a slight narrowing of eyes, and he knows it's because of the obvious fondness in his voice. Hell, looks like they both’d better give up their dreams of becoming card sharks. “You two deserve each other.” There’s lightning again, thunder on its heels. Very dramatic punctuation, Bones thinks. Jim’s head slips down and lands in Spock’s lap. And then the heavens open.

[becausetheplotsaidso]

It starts with the sound of a body hitting the floor.

[becausetheplotsaidso]

With Jim asleep beside him, Spock thinks of words.

Mostly he thinks of words about Jim. He goes through endless lists of adjectives, trying to describe the man in his bed. First Spock exhausts synonyms for Jim’s beauty. He finds that none of them explain that he could spend far more hours watching Jim than he could examining a Renaissance masterpiece. (Jim took him to see a Botticelli once. They stood in silence, side by side, and Spock cannot remember what the painting depicted. But he does remember feeling heat radiating from Jim’s body and the line of his profile.) Then he tries to find a word for how compelling Jim is. Again, he finds all of the languages he knows to be lacking. Vulcan has no words for Jim’s laugh, or how his eyes shine with mirth, or the warmth of his body next to Spock’s. (Modern Vulcan is decidedly not built for romantic notions.) Standard and English do not accurately tell of Jim’s intelligence, the complex twists of his mind. Vulcan has a few, but they’re not accurate enough, either. For a time, Spock thinks he might find an answer. Surely, there is a word used to describe astral bodies, a word only used for the brilliant light of distant stars. (Jim holds a great affinity for the stars. He never feels entirely comfortable planetside. Spock agrees.) And yet still, Spock can find none. There are no words to explain him. None of them seem to fit. Nor does he know of a word to explain how Jim makes him feel. (He mentions this to Uhura not long after. She laughs, not unkindly, and tells him that it’s love. Spock likes the sound of that. And Jim agrees.)

[becausetheplotsaidso]

It’s the most absurd thing Jim has ever heard. “One room? You have one room available?"