#&& cold embrace warms us; undertaker and steve

[brothersgrim]

SEND 'WHAT IF' SCENARIOS FOR MY MUSES TO REACT TO! || ACCEPTING

Anonymous asked: What if Taker was in a situation in which he felt extremely confused by something 👀  sorry, I’m not that creative with asks

He shifts in his bed, scrunching his face in displeasure at the hazy notion of waking up. He's tired. He's sore. He knows his duties will summon him soon, but for now, his bed is comfortable, and that is enough. It is so much more than he had for so long. 

There's a noise from out in the hall. Footsteps. Now, enough people came and went these days that that noise wouldn’t normally bother him. But even with so many people, the Undertaker knew them all - he wouldn’t bring them here otherwise. He knew their voices, their habits, their rhythms, and, while he wasn’t as keen at it as Kane was, he knew their footsteps. He could usually tell who it was walking past his door.

He does not recognize those steps. 

The Undertaker opens his eyes with a frown, brow knotting as he sits up, and–

And this isn’t his room. 

This isn’t his room, even if it feels painfully familiar. It’s still small, though he wonders if it feels bigger simply because there are more things in it than usual - where did they come from? The rug, the desk, the chair, the lamp… The posters were different, but he recognized the room itself. He knows, if he were to look out the window to his left, he would see the Yard. His Yard. He pushes carefully off the bed and freezes when his feet brush something soft. He looks down, and things get stranger still. A set of slippers rests against his feet. Soft ones, hand-made by a matron in town for a church fundraiser.

He remembered these. He didn’t know why - they should be inconsequential - but he remembers them. And the feet that brush against them move when he wills them to, the toes flex and curl, but these aren’t his feet; they lack the weathering and callouses, the scars on the sides where poorly-maintained boots had worn skin away to bloody messes more times than he could count. He raises his hands to his face, and they’re similarly smaller, unblemished, nails neatly groomed without any traces of grave-dirt or blood or motor oil stuck underneath. This–

This didn’t make any sense. There was an answer, an explanation, to all of this, but it danced and spun and swirled around in illogical circles until all it looked like was a dream. This was a dream. This was a dream, it had to be, it was the only thing that possibly made sense. He pushes off the bed (the blankets felt too soft, too real, and wasn’t this different from how these dreams normally went?) and is halfway to the mirror in the corner when the footsteps come back, and there’s three steady knocks on the door. The voice comes through the door just as he catches his reflection - just in time to see the agony flash across his younger self’s features as recognition twists the knife of grief. 

“Hey in there. You ready for bed yet?” 

That’s his father’s voice. A voice he had longed to hear and failed to properly remember for so long. Any response is caught in his throat, stopped by the lump and the sickly taste of bile that he clamps his jaw against, by breaths that trip and stumble as they make a rapid escape from his lungs without leaving any oxygen behind. 

“Adam?” Another knock and he knew, he’d known for so long, that he hadn’t quite gotten it right in his mind, but he hadn’t realised how many little details time had worn away. That was his father’s voice. The way his accent shaped each vowel, dulled the edge of some consonants and sharpened some others. The hint of concern mingled with confusion, so genuine and authentic and different, so different from how Paul had spoken of them. “You there?” 

This had to be a dream. It had to be. The door handle rattles and his entire body tenses. He knows what will happen next. The door will open and he will see his father’s face, burned and disfigured, and it will tell him that everything was his fault and he will wake up for real, in the master bedroom in his own– His grown– body. That’s what will happen. That’s what will happen because nothing else makes sense. That’s what will happen because he does not know what he will do if it doesn’t. The door opens and it is not his father’s corpse he sees. It is his father. Just his father, but like his voice, the memories of his face, even the photo kept hidden away, lacked so many details. The faint scar on his lip. The furrow in his brow. The way his hair flopped when he tilted his head, the creases at the corner of his eyes from a lifetime of smiling and thinking and squinting alike. 

“Ad-?” His father begins, but cuts off when he meets his son’s eyes. The Undertaker - Adam - does not move. He’s not sure he can. His father’s eyes widen a bit, and he reaches in the room to set his mug (his favourite mug, off-white and coffee-stained from years of use, it had a soup recipe on the side but he always filled it with everything but instead) on the dresser (handmade by Grandpa Abe, years and years before Adam was ever born and longer still before the fire claimed it and everything else). 

“Whoa, whoa, easy.” His father closes the door behind him and crouches down, close enough to study his son’s face but far enough to not crowd. The Undertaker - Adam - studies him in kind through wide, shellshocked eyes. Green eyes, not like his father’s brown. A soft green-and-navy flannel shirt hung on shoulders made broad from ranching, from grave-digging, from casket-building, a strong nose wrinkled just enough as he frowned down. This was his father. “What happened?” (You died.) “What’s wrong?” (I killed you.That’s what’s wrong. You died, I killed you, I didn’t mean to but I did and you’re dead and I lost you and–) His father’s hands, work-rough but gentle, come to rest on his shoulders and he flinches. If he hadn’t felt sick before, he did now. This is his father.

This is his father, and this is not a dream. 

“Jesus, c’mere.” His father sighs and pulls him in for a hug. It’s crushing, it’s suffocating, it’s ensnaring, it’s safe, and it isn’t until his father holds even tighter that Adam realises he is leaving tear stains on his father’s shirt. Oh. He’s crying. He’s crying, and he’s not sure he will ever be able to stop. He is Death. He is the Reaper. Men the size of mountains ran at the mere idea of his presence. His name was a legend, a warning, a curse, a promise. He is the Omega, the ugly truth of the world, and the truth he cannot bring himself to accept is just how much he had wanted this for so, so many years. His hands shake as he takes tentative fistfuls of flannel, then grips hard enough his knuckles turn white as he presses his face against his father’s shoulder.The shuddering, messy inhale that he forces smells like coffee and wood chips and spiced aftershave, fabric softener and earth and embalming fluid. It smells like comfort. It is a smell he had long since forgotten, and even though his lungs don’t work and his chest burns he forces himself to breathe it in again. 

“You hurt?” His father asks and the Undertaker has no idea how to respond, so Adam doesn’t. Only manages another breath that sounds deceptively like a hiccup. His father hums a single note and stands, tightening his arms just enough to lift Adam up off his feet. “Think there’s a bit more cocoa in the pot downstairs. Why don’t we get you some?” The offer only makes Adam cling to him even tighter. (How long had it been since anyone had offered the Undertaker cocoa? The Devil Himself did not need comfort. The Pale Rider had no use for warmth.) “C’mon.” His father opens the door with one hand and shuts it as they step through, leaving the soup mug behind. (That’s right, he had a habit of forgetting where he left things, hadn’t he? Another detail long forgotten.) He clings to his father and one of the boards creaks, and oh, right, he’d always had to be careful of that when he was young, right? And then there’s another creak as a door opens. Another voice the Deadman had resigned himself to never hearing - at least, not like this. Another set of spectral hands ripping into his chest.

“What’s wrong with Adam?” 

“Nothing, Fireball.” His - their - father says, reaching down with one arm to tousle Kane’s hair. His little brother looks up and his throat seizes again. The eyes he meets are grey - both grey, not mis-matched by smoke and flame and infection. His brother, little brother, baby brother, is just how he had tried to remember him for so many years and even through blurring vision he can’t look away. It’s how he was always meant to be. How he should have been, until– “Just a bit under the weather, is all. Go turn down your bed, I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” Kane says, not bothering to keep the frown out of his voice. The door closes and Adam thinks more than feels the nudge through the air, that voice he had grieved so deeply peeking in through the disoriented haze of his own thoughts. 

You okay?

Kane. He sent back, squeezing his eyes shut and once again burrowing his face into his father’s shoulder. Is it really you?

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be Kane. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be. It had to be a trick. A lie. It would all fall apart because it always did. It would go wrong and twist and he would lose it - them - again because he always did. 

It’s me. Kane’s voice says and it’s a punch to the gut all over again. Why? Did something get out? Do we need to find Mama? 

Mama.

Their mother. 

Was she here, too? The last time he had seen her had been when Kane - grown, scarred, furious Kane - had thrown him into her casket. Before that, it had been when Paul had brought him to the other funeral home. When he had seen a skeletal grin and blackened glass and bloody, charred flesh– Another shudder wracks his too-small body as the revulsion hits him anew.

“You’re okay.” His father says, carefully setting Adam down on a chair. It feels so much bigger than chairs are supposed to. He doesn’t let go of his father. He wasn't sure that he could. If he does, his father will slip away again. If he does, he will wake up as he was yesterday and he will never see his father again, outside of photographs. If he does– 

His father rests a hand on Adam’s head before pulling away. 

“Sit tight.” His father says, moving to a pot resting on the stove. He rummages around for a mug and finds one, smaller than the now-discarded soup mug with two little mice painted on the side. He lifts the pot by its long wooden handle, pours cocoa into the mug, then returns to Adam’s side. “Here y’are. Drink slow, but see if it helps you any.” Adam takes the mug in his hands and stares.

“It’s warm.” He says, and even he notices the incredulity in his voice. His father lets out a surprised snort. 

“Well, yeah. It’s hot chocolate.” And yes, he’s right, the name should make its temperature obvious, but that’s not the point. The point is that Adam - the Undertaker - can feel it. The point is that it’s another sign that this is all, somehow, impossibly, inexplicably real. He hesitates a moment longer before taking a sip. It’s warm, yes, but it’s rich, sweet, comforting. Something homemade, from scratch, not from a packet. 

“My mama - your Granny Jules - used to make this whenever my siblings and I had a rough night.” His father leans against the counter with a grunt belying stiff muscles. “‘Course, when we started getting bigger, she put whiskey in it. … You still got a few more years before you can give that a try.” His father offers him a smile, and though it still twists at his heart, Adam manages a smile back. This is real. He has to accept that. Maybe… Maybe everything else had been a dream? No. That didn’t make sense, either. It had been fifty years, and he had felt every second of it. … Maybe he should give up trying to rationalise this. His mere existence had defied logic for so long; why would this be any different? (But at the same time, nothing good, logical or otherwise, ever lasted with him. Everything he loved had been taken away over, and over, and over again. Accepting this as reality would only make it hurt more when it was ripped from his grasp.) It’s a debate he’s still having with himself when he takes another sip of his drink. Then there are more footsteps, and these ones are not difficult to recognize. 

“JT! You down there?”

Paul. 

So many things happen at once. Adam chokes on his drink. The light overhead explodes. His father flinches back into the counter and curses. Paul bangs into something upstairs and says something similar. He comes downstairs and Adam cannot stop staring. That’s Paul. That’s Paul. That’s Paul. Paul is here. Why is Paul here? Paul stares at him with a furrowed brow. 

“The hell was that?” Paul asked. Adam gripped the mug so tightly his hands shook. 

“Just a light.” His father said, but there was a different tone to his voice. His words were just a bit slower, a bit more thoughtful. “Think you can go find Iza for me? We’re gonna need to clean this up, get a replacement. She’s out back.” Paul watched Adam a moment longer, then shrugged and made his way to the back door. Adam did not take his eyes off him, nor did he loosen his grip. Paul was here. Paul was here. Paul was here. It’s a thought that consumes him so much he doesn’t realise his father has moved until they’re in front of each other.

“Adam.” His own name makes him jump again, sloshing cocoa onto his fingers. It burns. The sensation, unpleasant as it is, helps ground him. His father carefully pries the mug from his grasp and sets it on the table, before work-worn hands rest on Adam’s shoulders. “You’re not in trouble, but I need you to be honest with me. Did he do something to you?” Adam didn’t answer. How could he? How could he explain forty years of torture to the father who only knew him as– How old was he? Ten years? Eleven? 

“I-” He starts, then stops. Forty years of suffering. Forty years of misery, of slavery, of pain and fear and what he had done to Kane and– Without being aware of it, his hands had moved to his throat. And then he swallows, looks down, and clutches at his own hands. “I…” His father’s jaw clenched and he looked over his shoulder to the back door. After another beat, he turns back and scoops Adam back into his arms. 

“Y’know what? Grab your cup, Mr. Man. We’re having a sleepover tonight.” 

It’s almost robotic, the way Adam does as he’s told. It’s easy to fall back onto that old habit. It’s familiar. Far more familiar than the way his father carries him up the stairs, stopping only to knock on Kane’s door. 

“Hey, Kane! C’mon. You’re sleeping in our room tonight.” His words were met with some shuffling noises from the other side of the door, before the knob turned and Kane’s ruffled head poked out. 

“I am?” He asked, blinking groggily. He must have been settling down already. Their father reached down to smooth Kane’s hair back into place. 

“Yup. Sleepover night.” Their father nodded. “Grab your bear if you want, but hurry it up. It’s getting late.” 

“Okay.” Kane disappeared into his room again, then reappeared and trotted after their father. Adam found himself deposited on their parents’ bed. His father squeezed his shoulders one last time, pressing a kiss to the crown of Adam’s head. 

“Stay here, I’m gonna go find your mama.” And then he leaves. He leaves, and those words cling to Adam like an embrace, like a security blanket, like brambles, like a noose. The bed shifted behind him, but Kane’s voice still almost made him jump.

“You’re not sick, are you?” He asked. Adam worked his jaw, then carefully set the mug down on the nightstand.

“I dunno what I am.” He said after a while. Kane flopped against his back. The warmth, the pressure, helped. The closeness to his brother helped. It didn’t chase the tightness in his chest away, but it helped. 

“You’re scared.” That did not help.  

“Kane-” He started. He didn’t need his brother digging through his head. Not now. He didn’t want Kane to see. Kane didn’t need to know. (He didn’t want Kane to know.) 

“It’s okay.” Kane said, shrugging the shoulder that wasn’t smushed against his brother’s back. “It’s like Mama always says. Nothing can hurt us in this house.” … Adam was glad his brother didn’t see the expression that just flashed across his face. How he wished that was true. How he’d used to believe that was true. How many years he had desperately, desperately longed for it to be true. But it wasn’t. He grips the mug tighter and leans back against Kane. The warmth of both and the weight of his brother feel a million miles away. His chest is tight and he closes his eyes as though that will banish the pain. He needs to breathe. He knows he needs to breathe, but this is all too much, too much, too much– The creak of the stairs.

He’s not ready for this.

His father’s muffled voice.

He’s not ready.

“... Look in his eyes, almost didn’t look like him.” His father was saying. “I’ve only seen that look two other places. Soldiers, and the pigs you bring in on Halloween.” The pigs. Livestock only in the loosest sense. Shepherded in from death row, or rounded up in the wild if they hadn’t been caught yet. Serial killers, repeat abusers, the worst of humanity, and they all squealed when they realised what was going to happen to them. He knew that well enough from his own experience. (He’d had to keep the tradition going. He had to. And he had done it, like all things, alone.) And the door opens. And the air leaves the room again. And he no longer feels the cup, or his brother. And he knows he’s shaking but he doesn’t feel that, either. And he imagines he’s crying again but even that escapes sensation. There’s an image juxtaposed over his mother’s face. One he’d never forgotten, not in forty years. Charred, blistered skin. Lips peeled back to reveal ash-coated teeth. Glass lacerating through reddened skin. Patches of skull where hair had been eaten away. A hole where her nose was meant to be. And only congealed, half-boiled pits where her blue, blue eyes had once been. That is what his mother had looked like, the last time he’d seen her face. And he sees it now. And he feels sick. And his head is spinning. And it’s too light and too dark and his heart is pounding, deafening in his ears and that’s his mother. And he feels like he is falling apart and compressing all at once and his own hair feels hot and itchy against the back of his neck and that is his mother. 

That is his mother. 

That is his mother and she’s getting closer. 

That’s his mother and he still remembers how her charred flesh smelled.

That’s his mother and she’s in front of him. And he can’t breathe. And it smells like smoke and cooked flesh. And it smells like cinnamon and lavender. And she is burned and she is beautiful. And she is in front of him. And his vision is blurring so much it no longer matters what her face looked like; he couldn’t make it out anyways. She folded her hands on the blankets near him - an invitation for comfort, but not making contact yet. 

“Addie, baby?” Her voice was a lance through his heart. “What’s wrong?” The floorboards creak (so loud, so shrill) as his father moves to his mother’s side. Another fuzzy shape in front of him. 

“I’m sorry.” He manages. His voice croaks and it hurts to say the words. He tries again anyway. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” The indistinct shape of his mother shifts, likely looking up at his father, but she will find no answers there. He wouldn’t know. Neither of them would know the blood and soot that stained their oldest’s hands. They wouldn’t know how badly he’d hurt them. How he’d-

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, though even he barely understood it. “I’m sorry.” It’s a mess of syllables, fumbled together and dropped from the shaking grasp of his lips until they fell on a floor in a heap. He curls in on himself, wrapping his arms around his chest as though that might stop the last pieces of his heart from shattering further. 

It doesn’t work. 

“Oh, baby.” His mother says, wrapping him in her arms and pulling him close. She kisses the top of his head and it aches, it burns, it’s agony and it’s a redemption and a forgiveness that he has done nothing to deserve. He does not deserve her love and yet he has craved it so desperately he can’t bring himself to pull away. She holds him tighter still and at some point, he had started clinging to her in kind. He doesn’t remember when. All he knows is if he tried to hold on to the back of her blouse any tighter his hands would break. He tries anyways. He tries another apology, too. Neither attempt is successful. His mother holds him anyway. And just like with his father, eventually, he wears himself out. He does not let go, but the tears slow down. His breathing steadies to shaky hiccups. But he doesn’t let go until she pulls away and he has to. Her hands find his face and her thumbs brush away the lingering moisture on his cheeks. He raises his own hands to hold on to her wrists, pressing his face into her palms. He had tried to memorise this feeling after she had been gone. (He’d had no way of knowing he’d be forced to forget.) 

Feeling the real thing now, his memories didn’t come anywhere close. 

His mother sighs. It’s not an annoyed sigh, nor is it condescending. It’s a release of tension. It’s permission to relax. She leans in and kisses the top of his head again. For another moment, she stays with her face pressed against his scalp. He blinks; his eyes still sting. 

“You okay, baby?” She asks. He sniffs, and for the first time since he could remember, he answered that question honestly. 

“I don’t know.” 

“And that’s okay.” She smooths his hair and smiles down at him and he sees her face, and it’s even more beautiful than he remembered. “Why don’t you stay here with your brother? I gotta talk to your daddy for a minute.” She moves to stand and the ‘no’ that leaves him is involuntary. Don’t go. Don’t leave me, not again. I just got you all back, don’t go. 

I need you. 

Her lips flicker into a frown, concerned and- angry?- but it vanishes just as fast. There’s a fluctuation in temperature, a drop that he swears must have been his, but her hand is freezing when it runs through his hair again. 

“We’ll be back, Adam, sweet boy. I promise.” And despite the warning signs, she was as gentle towards him in tone and action as she had ever been. She turns and leaves quickly, their father following behind. The door closes behind them. Adam sniffs and wipes at his face again. There’s silence, filled by the staccato ticking of the clock on the night stand and the soft rustling of Kane squirming around in the sheets. Adam keeps staring at the door. Then Kane plops his chin on Adam’s shoulder and speaks. 

“Would it make you feel better if we listened?” He asked. “Then we won’t be so far away.” Adam scrunched up his faze and scrubbed at his eyes one last time. Kane was right. Adam didn’t want to know how much he’d picked up–

“Not a lot.” Kane shrugged.

“Cut that out.” Adam mumbled into his own sleeve. Kane huffed, flopping backwards onto the thick down-stuffed pillows his parents enjoyed. 

“Well, you won’t tell me what’s going on! I’m worried.” He said, pouting at the ceiling. “You’re never like this.” And maybe he was right. Adam absolutely hadn’t been that way when he had stopped being Adam. He didn’t remember what he was supposed to be before the fire. Apparently, not like this. 

“Yeah.” Adam ended up saying. “Let’s go listen.” Anything to avoid letting his brother know what he was thinking. They both slipped off the bed, their socks helping to muffle the impact of their feet against the floor. And the door opens slowly, quietly, careful of the potential squeaking hinges, and Adam leaves first, finding his spot at the top of the stairs. He can’t see his parents, no matter how he manoeuvres. They must be in the back entryway. But he can hear them, and hear them well. 

“What happened, JT?” She was asking. She sounded mad again. “What happened to my little boy?”

“I don’t know.” Their father said. His voice was more level than their mother’s, but had a hard edge. He’d had enough time to gather himself. “I was doing the usual bedtime routine and found him like that, just like I told you. Had him calmed down a bit, but…” Their father sighed. 

“... What is it?” Their mother still seemed agitated, but concern had returned to her voice. Adam leaned forward, grasping the bannister for support and pressing his face between the beams. He could just see their shadows in the butter-yellow light that spilled in front of the staircase. It was a good thing he’d leaned in, because his father spoke much more softly now. 

“I think it was Paul.”

“What?!” He could see their mother’s shadow take a step back. “What do you mean? What did he do?” 

“All I know is, he showed up, and Adam looked like someone just walked over his grave. Pale as anything, kept staring, I swear, I called his name three times and he didn’t hear me. Something happened even if I don’t know what.” 

“You’re sure?” Their mother asked, and this time, their father replied instantly.

“Sure as I need to be.”

“Fine.” Their mother says. “So we get rid of him, then. Nobody gets to hurt our boys, I don’t care who they are.” Their father hummed his agreement, and his shadow nodded. 

"I’m with you on that. Only thing I'm hung up on," his father says, a creak of wood belying a shifting of weight, "is what we tell Keith." 

"Why does he have to be told anything?" It's mama's voice, a coldness in it he isn't sure he ever heard. 

"Because. No more disappearances, remember?" 

"J." His mother tuts. "It's only a disappearance if someone comes looking." Adam tightens his hands on the bannister. It’s a struggle to keep his breathing quiet. It's them. It's really them. And he still does not know for how long he will have them back, so he is determined to re-learn their voices. Even if they are talking about murder. They are going to kill Paul. It is a thought that calms and terrifies him in kind - Paul is a monster. He deserves what he is getting. But what could someone like him do when cornered-? 

“Got a point.” His father says with a sniff. “Don’t think I’ve heard him really talk much about his family, so I don’t imagine they’re close.” 

“So we should be fine.” His mother replies. There’s a moment of silence that he imagines is filled with his father nodding. 

“Mind if I take the shovel?” His father’s voice again. “I just-” And then his father’s voice lowers and Adam has to strain even harder, leaning forward to not miss a single syllable. “The way Adam was when I found him-” 

“It’s all yours, J.” His mother said. “But that’s my baby too. So I get his heart.” In spite of the nature of the situation, a faint smile tugs at Adam’s face. He had been told before that he took after his mother; apparently they were right. Then he heard Paul’s voice, muffled and unintelligible, and the smile vanished as he shrank back. 

“Yeah, Paul, we’re coming.” His father called, loud enough to be heard in the back, and loud enough for Adam to hear easily. And as the door slid open, his mother’s voice, in a promise that would be terrifying if it was aimed at him, but as it was, carried a sense of security, of safety. 

“We’ll be right behind you.” 

And then the door slides closed. Adam lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding and eased away from the bannister. His fingers ached when he uncurled them. He glances behind him, and Kane is peering out the door to their parents’ room. 

“What was that about?” He asks, but Adam just shakes his head. 

“I dunno. I’m tired.” He slouches into the room, and as much as it’s a deflection, it’s the truth. He’s tired. No, he’s exhausted. His eyes ache and his head throbs and his shoulders feel so heavy he feels like he’ll collapse at any moment. 

“You still feel sick?” Kane asks, clambering up into the bed. Adam nods.

“Yeah. But I think I’ll be better soon.” 

“That’s good.” Kane says as they both make themselves comfortable under the old duvet (one Nana Tulip had embroidered herself, if Adam remembers right). “It’s always boring when you’re not feeling well.” Adam closed his eyes, pressing his face into the pillow even as he shifted closer to his brother. 

“Night, Kane.” He mumbles. 

“Night, Adam.” His little brother, his happy, healthy, safe little brother, replies, and it’s the last thing Adam hears before he starts nodding off - aside from some screams that might have been a coyote, if you didn’t listen closely enough. 

He’s not sure how long it’s been when he hears his parents enter the room. They’re trying to be quiet, and if he slept like he used to, they’d have succeeded. But he still has the world-weariness from the life he lived, so he peeks his eyes open as they approach. His mother sits on the bed first, sighs, then notices his stare and smiles. 

“Hey, baby.” She says, reaching down to stroke his hair. “You can get some sleep now, alright? You’re safe.” And somehow, somehow, he believes her. It might have something to do with the flecks of red on her teeth when she leans down to kiss his head - the same red he catches traces of under his father’s nails when a strong arm pulls him close. Whatever the reason, he feels safe - safer than he had in decades, even with the immense power he’d held. Regardless of the reason, he feels safe enough that this time when he sleeps, he sleeps heavily, and does not wake up until morning. And when he does wake, he’s still in his parents’ bed. And it is their bed. It still has the duvet his grandmother decorated, with the jewellery strand his father had made for his mother perched on the vanity. He’d been convinced he would wake up and find it all had been a dream, or hallucination - that it would vanish when he opened his eyes. That the other shoe would drop. 

But it didn’t. 

Every day, he would wake up and check his hands, check his face, check his surroundings. And every day, aside from the ordinary signs of time’s passing, he stayed the same. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years. The other shoe never came. Eventually, he stopped waiting for it. Yes, he would still get dreams. Yes, some things still scared him more than they should. (He never truly reconciled with the smell of burnt meat.) But he carried less tension in his shoulders, he stopped thinking he would lose this new chance, he stopped worrying so much about the future. Somehow, this was just going to continue. Something about gift horses and mouths or whatever. But he was happy. 

He was happy. 

His days became too busy to worry about a forgotten past and a discarded future. Going to school (again, in some aspects, but for the first time as he grew older), tending the yard (under his parents, not alone), spending time with his brother… Taking care of the dog. They hadn’t had a dog before. But a few years after the fire should’ve happened, a stray mutt had shown up on their doorstep. Now the mutt - lovingly named Fish - was a fixture of the family. And now, years later, Fish was running around the yard, barking happily, while his humans sat about getting various graves dug, cleaned, or otherwise looked after. So it was that Adam found himself in a hole, six-by-eight-by-three, shovel in hand as he dug with his brother. They’d fallen into a steady rhythm, as well as a comfortable silence after the usual chatter had died down. (They didn’t have to bury that.) The weather, homework, the upcoming school dance (now that they were both in high school) and what to watch on TV before bed had all been discussed. Now they just worked. The sun beat down mercilessly and left sweat beading on their backs and dripping down their necks. Neither light clothing nor trying back their hair had helped any. There weren’t even any clouds to offer shade. But Mama had a fresh pitcher of home-made strawberry lemonade in the fridge waiting for them, and the thought of it was enough to spur them on. (Though Kane had asked a few times if Adam would cause a storm - just enough to block the sun. Adam had refused, though he was tempted to agree, now.) It was shaping up to be another usual day, until his brother almost bowled Adam over with one simple question. 

“Are Mom and Dad supposed to be dead?” Kane doesn’t look away from his hands, but Adam’s head snaps up.

“What?”

“I dunno. I get these… Dreams, sometimes. But they’re not dreams. They’re hazy, but they’re real.” Kane shakes his head as though he might dislodge those thoughts and find the answer underneath. Adam hopes he doesn’t notice how tense his shoulders are, how his breathing has quickened.

“And I feel like you know something you’re not telling me.” Here, Kane does look up. “We’re supposed to tell each other everything. We don’t do secrets.” Adam runs his tongue across his lips like that could change the dryness in his throat. He can’t look at Kane. Can’t stomach whatever he thinks he might see, so he looks anywhere else.

“Kane, I-”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been here, is it?” 

He could argue that it is. That before, he had never gotten this chance. The chance to watch his brother grow up, the chance to ease into their future as the caretakers. This was new. But that was not what Kane meant, and they both knew it. He sighs, closes his eyes, and lets his chin drop to his chest, gripping his own hand so tight the bones in his fingers creak.

“No.” The silence that follows the admission is infinite, an abyss, stretching out to swallow him whole. He wants to beg Kane not to hate him. That he’s sorry for what happened. That he’s worked hard, so hard, to leave that reality behind and just be happy for what they had now, their home, their family, their freedom, but those words don’t come. Much like his brother in a faded world, he cannot speak.

“Well,” Kane says after an era, “I don’t know how you did what you did, or- Really, I don’t even know what made you do it. But I’m glad you did.” That makes Adam open his eyes again. There’s a weight off his shoulders and an ache in his heart as he looks at his brother, his baby brother, his little brother who he had once sold his soul for (who he would sell his soul for again, should this life demand it). Kane isn’t looking at him, now, using his teeth to stretch a hair elastic over his fingers before he continues. “Like I said, it’s hazy. I don’t really understand it. But I get the feeling I wouldn’t’ve liked it much.” The absurdity of the thought, the wild understatement, makes Adam laugh. It’s quiet and surprised, but it’s still genuine.

“No,” he says, wiping his hand down his face and sniffing. “No, you wouldn’t’ve.” 

“So thanks.” Kane finishes tying his hair back and butts his shoulder against Adam’s, then bends to grab his shovel. He jams it into the earth, stomps it lower with his foot, and throws his reward back over his shoulder. Adam does the same. Once, twice, three times. He steals another glance at Kane, then frowns down at the dirt. 

“How much do you…” He trails off. ‘Remember’ isn't right. Kane shakes his head. 

“Not the word for it.” He agrees. Another shovelful of earth moved before he answers. “I dunno. It’s dark, mostly. Sometimes it’s the opposite - just blinding white. But it always feels like- Like I can’t move.” Adam grits his teeth and represses a shudder. Kane nods. “Yeah. And I wake up hungry some nights. Real hungry. And there’s this weird taste in my mouth I can’t place. It’s almost like the time we went to the Davids’ barbecue, and the burgers weren’t cooked all the way.” Adam grimaces. He has an idea about why that might be. He doesn’t say it, though. … He doesn’t need to. Kane coughs. 

“Please, please tell me there’s a different reason you’re thinking about rats.”

“I dunno for sure.” Adam says quickly. Judging by the pathetic look his brother gives him, it doesn’t make him feel any better. “I could be wrong.” Kane wretched and choked back a gag. 

“I hope you are.” He manages. Adam shrugs. Another moment where the silence is broken only by the sound of their shovels impaling the earth, the distant croak of ravens lounging on a tree somewhere overhead. 

“It’s the opposite for me.” Adam finally says. “It feels like every day, more and more of- ‘the other time’, it’s fading away. There are some things I still remember really well, but other parts… Ain’t nothing there anymore.” 

“Huh. Weird.” Kane mumbled. More silence, more work. At some point, they’d gotten close to being finished; just needed to sharpen up the corners. Take pride in the details, their parents had taught them. It’s the family business. It’s our reputation. Gotta do it right. It had been strange to relearn everything. It had been eye-opening to see how much he had missed. The little tricks he had never been taught. Even just having the extra hands helped more than he could say. There’s a dull chink as Kane’s shovel hits a rock. He frowned, stooped down, and dug the rock out with his hands. With a grunt, he heaved it out of the hole, then reached to pull in an armload of the dirt they’d removed and fill in the dent the rock had left. Adam shoved his own shovel into the dirt and wiped his forehead again. He was exhausted - from the work, yes, but from the conversation, too. Kane looked over at him again. 

“Can I ask one more thing?”

“Shoot.” Adam replied, even though he wished they’d never broached the concept. (On some level, he was glad that someone else knew the truth. Kane was right; they didn’t do secrets. And it made him feel less crazy. But he didn’t want to think too deeply about that, not now.) 

“How did they–”

“Boys!” There were few times his mother’s voice had been more of a mercy than it was now. 

“Yeah?” He and Kane call in unison. They look up just in time to see their parents approach the edge of the grave. They were silhouetted by the sun, but if Adam squinted, he could make out their faces. 

“It’s almost noon; we’re going inside.” Their father said, tilting his hat up. “Break time.”

“Come on, both of you, before you wear yourselves out.” Their mother crouched down, tilting her head with a smile. 

“Don’t gotta twist my leg.” Adam said. Their father reached down, and Adam accepted his hand as he clambered out of the grave. Kane was given the same help, and then, after dusting themselves off, they headed back to the home. Adam knew what his brother wanted to ask. He hoped he would never complete that question.

He hoped they would both forget before it ever came up again. 

Fish trotted up beside them, whuffing a greeting. Adam reached down to scratch his ears. Well, if it did come up, he would have to address it. For now, he could focus on living the (relatively) normal life he had been gifted. A normal life that included lunch breaks and lemonade with his family, and dinners together later in the night, and regular school, and homework, and weekends, and high school football games - kind of like this one. 

The whistle ran through the air, sharp and splitting. 

“Let’s go, get your warm up in!” Coach shouted. Across the field, Victoria’s coach was barking similar instructions at his players. Adam was aware of this because he’d been staring in that direction since they’d gotten off the bus. 

“Careful,” Kane said in between up-downs. “Look any harder and your eyes’ll fall outta your skull.”

“Shut up.” Adam grumbles. He strands and rolls his shoulders; a moment later, Kane stands with him and stretches his neck from side to side. 

“How do you know he’ll even be here?” He asked. “Everything’s so different now. Maybe he doesn’t play football anymore.” 

“I guessed.” Adam narrowed his eyes at the opposing team, searching for any hint of the person he was looking for. It was hard to make anything out. That was the point of a uniform, but it didn’t stop it from being annoying. Had he ever mentioned a number–?

“Hey, witchblood!” Chester’s voice. Adam and Kane rolled their eyes and turned in unison.

“What, Hanson?” They said. Chester knew them well enough to not be put off by this. He stopped a few steps away from them, helmet under his arm. The light breeze blew his fluffy blonde hair out around him, and he scrunched his face in annoyance as he pushed it back behind his ear. 

“Stop drooling over the enemy and get in position. Coach wants to give us a pep talk.” He says. He shoots one last glare towards the opposing team, one more glance at the brothers, and jogs back to where the rest of their schoolmates were gathering.

“Told you it was obvious.” Kane bumps his shoulder against Adam’s, who rolls his eyes and scoffs in return. 

“‘Drooling over the enemy’, shut up. Why’s he gotta be such a dipshit when he talks?” 

“Yeah, sure sounds like an asshole.” And the voice is younger, not as gravelly, but Adam would know it anywhere. He turns, shock melting to hope melting to a brilliant grin on his face. Pale blond hair, big blue eyes, a lopsided smile - that’s what greeted him. He reached for the person he’d been looking for, and his hand was accepted, held close, stroked with gentle movements of his forever’s thumb. 

“There you are, Cueball.” Any bite left in the insult was erased by the pure relief in Adam’s voice. He was greeted with a laugh, genuine as ever.

“Missed you, too, ya big dead bastard.” Steve Austin - Stevie Williams, toughest player on Victoria’s team - smiled back. “You too, little brother.”

“Oh, my god.” Kane said, letting his helmet hang at his side. “You had a bowl cut.” 

Of all the things that had changed, sometimes, it was those that stayed the same that reassured him. It reminded him that he wasn’t losing his mind. By now, most of what had been was gone. It had faded away - and he didn’t make any effort to think about it. Not before, not now, not ever. But even with so much of those memories leaving, he never forgot her. 

Coming here had been half his idea, half Steve’s. He’d been talking about her - he wasn’t even sure how she came up in the conversation - and how he wondered if she was okay. What she was like in this version of reality.

“Why not find out?” Steve had asked. It was a thought Adam had humoured more than once, but it had been different. He and Steve had still been married when whatever happened had happened. Adam and Kane’s parents had died. In each case, he knew how that story ended. He knew what happened to them. But Liz… He’d been the one who left her. In a way, she’d died because she met him. So, if he never met her, would she live longer? Would she get the chance to grow old like she deserved? (But what about his boy? What would happen to Jon? His son, his perfect boy who he had failed in a different world–)

“All you can do is try. You changed so much, why not change that?” And Steve had said it so confidently Adam couldn’t argue. Nor did he want to. (He missed her.)

And so he came to the coffee shop. He hadn’t been sure it was the right one until he stepped inside and got hit with the nostalgia. This was it. This was the place. … But he had no idea what the date had been when he’d first seen her. He’d been nineteen, that much he knew, but beyond that? He had no idea. So he’d become somewhat of a regular here. Whenever he went to the city, he’d stop for a coffee. Sometimes he’d bring Steve or Kane or both up just to pass time. Every visit would be at least thirty minutes, but he’d always try for longer, just in case. It had been a fluke meeting before. Fate, chance, whatever you would call it. Not something he could plan for. But he hoped for it. And that hope kept him coming back, time after time. This time was in June, about midway through the year. He’d come up to get some cosmetic supplies and a few replacement parts for the cremation oven (his parents had wondered, once, why he was so thorough in maintaining it, but had settled on it being good practice and leaving it at that), and he’d stopped in at the coffee shop for a full meal. He’d finished his sandwich already, and worked his way through two cookies (his treat to himself for surviving the Bywater funeral last week). Every time the door opened, he looked up, like he always did. Every time he looked up, he was disappointed, like he always was. She still wasn’t here. When had he met her-? He’d asked himself that so many times. He sighed, let his head drop in resignation. He downed the last dregs of his coffee and crumpled the sandwich and cookie wrappers into a ball. A quick glance to make sure he hadn’t left a mess before he made his way to the recycling. He stopped one last time, looked over his shoulder on the off chance he’d missed her. Still nothing. (He wondered if he would recognize her. If maybe he’d passed her a hundred times and the fading had taken her face from him–) The bell jangled as he pushed through the door. His Harley was where he left it, still gleaming from the last polish. Dark blue paint that he retouched when needed, the custom V-and-skull hood ornament Dad had made him for his birthday that year (difficult to get in all the nooks to clean, but worth it). And the saddlebags, black leather, sturdy and reliable. He crouched down, ignoring the gravel that tried to bite into the knee of his jeans. He just had to put his wallet away, and then he’d head home. Maybe he’d come back another day. Maybe he’d see if Anything Else knew where she might–

“Hey.” And that voice immediately sent a flush of calm through him, of security, even if he hadn’t been afraid, even if he hadn’t heard it in so long. “Cool bike.”

And he did what he could to keep the emotion off his face as he looked up at her and gave a nod.

“Thanks, nice to meet a fellow Harley fan. I’m Adam, by the way.”

[party-hard-or-die]

Trump in surprise summit move says he will halt Korea war games

SINGAPORE (Reuters) – U.S. President Donald Trump made a stunning concession to North Korean leader Kim Jong Un on Tuesday about halting military exercises, pulling a surprise at a summit that baffled allies, military officials and lawmakers from his own Republican Party.

At a news conference after the historic meeting with Kim in Singapore, Trump announced he would halt what he called “very provocative” and expensive regular military exercises that the United States stages with South Korea.

That was sure to rattle close allies South Korea and Japan.

North Korea has long sought an end to the war games.

Trump and Kim promised in a joint statement to work toward the “denuclearization” of the Korean Peninsula, and the United States promised its Cold War foe security guarantees. But they offered few specifics.

The summit, the first between a sitting U.S. president and a North Korean leader, was in stark contrast to a flurry of North Korean nuclear and missile tests and angry exchanges of insults between Trump and Kim last year that fueled worries about war.

Highlighting the change in tone, North Korea’s state-run news agency reported early on Wednesday that Kim and Trump had accepted invitations to visit each other’s countries. No dates were disclosed.

Noting past North Korean promises to denuclearize, many analysts cast doubt on how effective Trump had been at obtaining Washington’s pre-summit goal of getting North Korea to undertake complete, verifiable and irreversible steps to scrap a nuclear arsenal that is advanced enough to threaten the United States.

Pyongyang’s Korean Central News Agency (KCNA) reported that Trump offered to lift economic sanctions on North Korea.

Trump “expressed his intention to halt the U.S.-South Korea joint military exercises, which the DPRK side regards as provocation, over a period of good-will dialogue between the DPRK and the U.S., offer security guarantees to the DPRK and lift sanctions against it along with advance in improving the mutual relationship through dialogue and negotiation,” it said.

North Korea’s formal name is the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.

While suggesting Pyongyang would take mutual goodwill measures, KCNA made no mention of abandoning the country’s nuclear program.

Critics in the United States said Trump had given away too much at a meeting that provided international standing to Kim. The North Korean leader had been isolated, his country accused by rights groups of widespread human rights abuses and under U.N. sanctions for its nuclear and ballistic missile programs.

If implemented, the halting of the joint military exercises would be one of the most controversial moves to come from the summit. The drills help keep U.S. forces at a state of readiness in one of the world’s most tense flashpoints.

“We will be stopping the war games which will save us a tremendous amount of money, unless and until we see the future negotiation is not going along like it should. But we’ll be saving a tremendous amount of money, plus I think it’s very provocative,” Trump said.

His announcement was a surprise even to President Moon Jae-in’s government in Seoul, which worked in recent months to help bring about the Trump-Kim summit.

The presidential Blue House said it needed “to find out the precise meaning or intentions” of Trump’s statement, while adding it was willing to “explore various measures to help the talks move forward more smoothly.”

There was some confusion over precisely what military cooperation with South Korea that Trump had promised to halt.

U.S. Senator Cory Gardner told reporters that Vice President Mike Pence promised in a briefing for Republican senators that the Trump administration would “clarify what the president talked about” regarding joint military exercises.

“VP was very clear: regular readiness training and training exchanges will continue … war games will not,” Gardner later wrote on Twitter.

Pentagon officials were not immediately able to provide any details about Trump’s remarks about suspending drills, a step the U.S. military has long resisted.

One South Korean official said he initially thought Trump had misspoken.

“I was shocked when he called the exercises ‘provocative,’ a very unlikely word to be used by a U.S. president,” the official said, speaking on condition of anonymity.

Current and former U.S. defense officials expressed concern at the possibility the United States would unilaterally halt military exercises without an explicit concession from North Korea that lowers the threat from Pyongyang.

The U.S.-South Korean exercise calendar hits a high point every year with the Foal Eagle and Max Thunder drills, which both wrapped up last month.

U.S. military drills have been dialed back previously to encourage Pyongyang to cooperate. U.S. President George H.W. Bush agreed to cancel the huge “Team Spirit” joint military drills in 1992 in hopes the North would implement inspections agreements. The drills were eventually phased out.

(Graphic on U.S.-North Korea relations: tmsnrt.rs/2l2UwW7)

‘DIFFICULT TO DETERMINE’

In a Twitter post as he returned from Singapore, Trump hailed his “truly amazing visit” and insisted that “Great progress was made on the denuclearization of North Korea.”

Later, he tweeted: “There is no limit to what NoKo can achieve when it gives up its nuclear weapons and embraces commerce & engagement w/ the world.”

Republican Senator Lindsey Graham, who said Trump called him from Air Force One, praised the president’s leadership at the summit.

“The President has given Kim Jong Un a way out that is good for him and the world. I hope Kim is smart enough to take it. Well done, Mr. President,” Graham said on Twitter.

REFILE – ADDING RESTRICTIONS U.S. President Donald Trump meets North Korean leader Kim Jong Un at the Capella Hotel on Sentosa island in Singapore June 12, 2018. Kevin Lim/The Straits Times via REUTERS

But concerns persisted about the vague nature of the public agreements.

The Republican chairman of the U.S. Senate Foreign Relations Committee, Bob Corker, said in a statement: “While I am glad the president and Kim Jong Un were able to meet, it is difficult to determine what of concrete nature has occurred.”

World stock markets were little changed on Tuesday, while the U.S. dollar rose slightly against an index of major currencies, as investors brushed aside the summit.

The two leaders smiled and shook hands at their meeting at the Capella hotel on Singapore’s resort island of Sentosa, and Trump spoke in warm terms of Kim at his news conference.

Just a few months ago, Kim was an international pariah accused of ordering the killing of his uncle, a half-brother and hundreds of officials suspected of disloyalty. Tens of thousands of North Koreans are imprisoned in labor camps.

The leaders’ joint statement did not refer to human rights. Trump said he had raised the issue with Kim, and he believed the North Korean leader wanted to “do the right thing.”

Trump said he expected the denuclearization process to start “very, very quickly” and it would be verified by “having a lot of people in North Korea.”.

He said Kim had announced that North Korea was destroying a major missile engine-testing site, but sanctions on North Korea would stay in place for now.

It was unclear if negotiations would lead to denuclearization, or end with broken promises, as happened in the past, said Anthony Ruggiero, senior fellow at Washington’s Foundation for Defense of Democracies think tank.

But Victor Cha, who handled North Korea policy under former President George W. Bush, praised Trump’s unorthodox diplomacy and willingness to engage Kim directly.

“Despite its many flaws, the Singapore summit represents the start of a diplomatic process that takes us away from the brink of war,” Cha wrote in the New York Times.

DENUCLEARIZATION

The leaders’ joint statement said Trump “committed to provide security guarantees” to North Korea and Kim “reaffirmed his firm and unwavering commitment to complete denuclearization of the Korean Peninsula”.

North Korea has long rejected unilateral nuclear disarmament, instead referring to the denuclearization of the peninsula. That has always been interpreted as a call for the United States to remove its “nuclear umbrella” protecting South Korea and Japan.

The joint statement made no mention of the sanctions on North Korea and there was no reference to formally ending the 1950-53 Korean War, which killed millions of people and ended in a truce.

But it said the two sides had agreed to recover the remains of prisoners of war and soldiers missing in action, so they could be repatriated. The Pentagon said on Tuesday that nearly 7,700 U.S. military personnel are unaccounted for from the Korean War.

Trump said China, North Korea’s main ally, would welcome the progress he and Kim had made.

Slideshow (13 Images)

The Singapore summit did not get top billing in Chinese newspapers on Wednesday. The ruling Communist Party’s main newspaper, the People’s Daily, reported the news in a brief page 3 article about the Chinese Foreign Ministry’s reaction to the talks.

The English-language China Daily said in an editorial that while it remained to be seen if the talks would be a defining moment in history, the fact that the talks went smoothly was a “positive result”.

“While no one should expect the summit to have ironed out all the differences and erased the deep-seated mistrust between the two long-time foes, it has ignited hopes that they will be finally able to put an end to their hostility and that the long-standing peninsula issues can finally be resolved. These hopes should not be extinguished,” it said.

Reporting by Steve Holland, Soyoung Kim and Jack Kim; Additional reporting by Dewey Sim, Aradhana Aravindan, Himani Sarkar, Miral Fahmy, John Geddie, Joyce Lee, Grace Lee, Matt Spetalnick and David Brunnstrom in Singapore, Christine Kim in Seoul, John Ruwitch in Beijing and Phil Stewart, Doina Chiacu, Patricia Zengerle, Richard Cowan and Idrees Ali in Washington; Writing by Alistair Bell and Warren Strobel; Editing by Frances Kerry, Peter Cooney, Grant McCool

The post Trump in surprise summit move says he will halt Korea war games appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2y74q2x via Breaking News

[newestbalance]

Trump in surprise summit move says he will halt Korea war games

SINGAPORE (Reuters) – U.S. President Donald Trump made a stunning concession to North Korean leader Kim Jong Un on Tuesday about halting military exercises, pulling a surprise at a summit that baffled allies, military officials and lawmakers from his own Republican Party.

At a news conference after the historic meeting with Kim in Singapore, Trump announced he would halt what he called “very provocative” and expensive regular military exercises that the United States stages with South Korea.

That was sure to rattle close allies South Korea and Japan.

North Korea has long sought an end to the war games.

Trump and Kim promised in a joint statement to work toward the “denuclearization” of the Korean Peninsula, and the United States promised its Cold War foe security guarantees. But they offered few specifics.

The summit, the first between a sitting U.S. president and a North Korean leader, was in stark contrast to a flurry of North Korean nuclear and missile tests and angry exchanges of insults between Trump and Kim last year that fueled worries about war.

Highlighting the change in tone, North Korea’s state-run news agency reported early on Wednesday that Kim and Trump had accepted invitations to visit each other’s countries. No dates were disclosed.

Noting past North Korean promises to denuclearize, many analysts cast doubt on how effective Trump had been at obtaining Washington’s pre-summit goal of getting North Korea to undertake complete, verifiable and irreversible steps to scrap a nuclear arsenal that is advanced enough to threaten the United States.

Pyongyang’s Korean Central News Agency (KCNA) reported that Trump offered to lift economic sanctions on North Korea.

Trump “expressed his intention to halt the U.S.-South Korea joint military exercises, which the DPRK side regards as provocation, over a period of good-will dialogue between the DPRK and the U.S., offer security guarantees to the DPRK and lift sanctions against it along with advance in improving the mutual relationship through dialogue and negotiation,” it said.

North Korea’s formal name is the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.

While suggesting Pyongyang would take mutual goodwill measures, KCNA made no mention of abandoning the country’s nuclear program.

Critics in the United States said Trump had given away too much at a meeting that provided international standing to Kim. The North Korean leader had been isolated, his country accused by rights groups of widespread human rights abuses and under U.N. sanctions for its nuclear and ballistic missile programs.

If implemented, the halting of the joint military exercises would be one of the most controversial moves to come from the summit. The drills help keep U.S. forces at a state of readiness in one of the world’s most tense flashpoints.

“We will be stopping the war games which will save us a tremendous amount of money, unless and until we see the future negotiation is not going along like it should. But we’ll be saving a tremendous amount of money, plus I think it’s very provocative,” Trump said.

His announcement was a surprise even to President Moon Jae-in’s government in Seoul, which worked in recent months to help bring about the Trump-Kim summit.

The presidential Blue House said it needed “to find out the precise meaning or intentions” of Trump’s statement, while adding it was willing to “explore various measures to help the talks move forward more smoothly.”

There was some confusion over precisely what military cooperation with South Korea that Trump had promised to halt.

U.S. Senator Cory Gardner told reporters that Vice President Mike Pence promised in a briefing for Republican senators that the Trump administration would “clarify what the president talked about” regarding joint military exercises.

“VP was very clear: regular readiness training and training exchanges will continue … war games will not,” Gardner later wrote on Twitter.

Pentagon officials were not immediately able to provide any details about Trump’s remarks about suspending drills, a step the U.S. military has long resisted.

One South Korean official said he initially thought Trump had misspoken.

“I was shocked when he called the exercises ‘provocative,’ a very unlikely word to be used by a U.S. president,” the official said, speaking on condition of anonymity.

Current and former U.S. defense officials expressed concern at the possibility the United States would unilaterally halt military exercises without an explicit concession from North Korea that lowers the threat from Pyongyang.

The U.S.-South Korean exercise calendar hits a high point every year with the Foal Eagle and Max Thunder drills, which both wrapped up last month.

U.S. military drills have been dialed back previously to encourage Pyongyang to cooperate. U.S. President George H.W. Bush agreed to cancel the huge “Team Spirit” joint military drills in 1992 in hopes the North would implement inspections agreements. The drills were eventually phased out.

(Graphic on U.S.-North Korea relations: tmsnrt.rs/2l2UwW7)

‘DIFFICULT TO DETERMINE’

In a Twitter post as he returned from Singapore, Trump hailed his “truly amazing visit” and insisted that “Great progress was made on the denuclearization of North Korea.”

Later, he tweeted: “There is no limit to what NoKo can achieve when it gives up its nuclear weapons and embraces commerce & engagement w/ the world.”

Republican Senator Lindsey Graham, who said Trump called him from Air Force One, praised the president’s leadership at the summit.

“The President has given Kim Jong Un a way out that is good for him and the world. I hope Kim is smart enough to take it. Well done, Mr. President,” Graham said on Twitter.

REFILE – ADDING RESTRICTIONS U.S. President Donald Trump meets North Korean leader Kim Jong Un at the Capella Hotel on Sentosa island in Singapore June 12, 2018. Kevin Lim/The Straits Times via REUTERS

But concerns persisted about the vague nature of the public agreements.

The Republican chairman of the U.S. Senate Foreign Relations Committee, Bob Corker, said in a statement: “While I am glad the president and Kim Jong Un were able to meet, it is difficult to determine what of concrete nature has occurred.”

World stock markets were little changed on Tuesday, while the U.S. dollar rose slightly against an index of major currencies, as investors brushed aside the summit.

The two leaders smiled and shook hands at their meeting at the Capella hotel on Singapore’s resort island of Sentosa, and Trump spoke in warm terms of Kim at his news conference.

Just a few months ago, Kim was an international pariah accused of ordering the killing of his uncle, a half-brother and hundreds of officials suspected of disloyalty. Tens of thousands of North Koreans are imprisoned in labor camps.

The leaders’ joint statement did not refer to human rights. Trump said he had raised the issue with Kim, and he believed the North Korean leader wanted to “do the right thing.”

Trump said he expected the denuclearization process to start “very, very quickly” and it would be verified by “having a lot of people in North Korea.”.

He said Kim had announced that North Korea was destroying a major missile engine-testing site, but sanctions on North Korea would stay in place for now.

It was unclear if negotiations would lead to denuclearization, or end with broken promises, as happened in the past, said Anthony Ruggiero, senior fellow at Washington’s Foundation for Defense of Democracies think tank.

But Victor Cha, who handled North Korea policy under former President George W. Bush, praised Trump’s unorthodox diplomacy and willingness to engage Kim directly.

“Despite its many flaws, the Singapore summit represents the start of a diplomatic process that takes us away from the brink of war,” Cha wrote in the New York Times.

DENUCLEARIZATION

The leaders’ joint statement said Trump “committed to provide security guarantees” to North Korea and Kim “reaffirmed his firm and unwavering commitment to complete denuclearization of the Korean Peninsula”.

North Korea has long rejected unilateral nuclear disarmament, instead referring to the denuclearization of the peninsula. That has always been interpreted as a call for the United States to remove its “nuclear umbrella” protecting South Korea and Japan.

The joint statement made no mention of the sanctions on North Korea and there was no reference to formally ending the 1950-53 Korean War, which killed millions of people and ended in a truce.

But it said the two sides had agreed to recover the remains of prisoners of war and soldiers missing in action, so they could be repatriated. The Pentagon said on Tuesday that nearly 7,700 U.S. military personnel are unaccounted for from the Korean War.

Trump said China, North Korea’s main ally, would welcome the progress he and Kim had made.

Slideshow (13 Images)

The Singapore summit did not get top billing in Chinese newspapers on Wednesday. The ruling Communist Party’s main newspaper, the People’s Daily, reported the news in a brief page 3 article about the Chinese Foreign Ministry’s reaction to the talks.

The English-language China Daily said in an editorial that while it remained to be seen if the talks would be a defining moment in history, the fact that the talks went smoothly was a “positive result”.

“While no one should expect the summit to have ironed out all the differences and erased the deep-seated mistrust between the two long-time foes, it has ignited hopes that they will be finally able to put an end to their hostility and that the long-standing peninsula issues can finally be resolved. These hopes should not be extinguished,” it said.

Reporting by Steve Holland, Soyoung Kim and Jack Kim; Additional reporting by Dewey Sim, Aradhana Aravindan, Himani Sarkar, Miral Fahmy, John Geddie, Joyce Lee, Grace Lee, Matt Spetalnick and David Brunnstrom in Singapore, Christine Kim in Seoul, John Ruwitch in Beijing and Phil Stewart, Doina Chiacu, Patricia Zengerle, Richard Cowan and Idrees Ali in Washington; Writing by Alistair Bell and Warren Strobel; Editing by Frances Kerry, Peter Cooney, Grant McCool

The post Trump in surprise summit move says he will halt Korea war games appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2y74q2x via Everyday News

[dani-qrt]

Trump in surprise summit move says he will halt Korea war games

SINGAPORE (Reuters) – U.S. President Donald Trump made a stunning concession to North Korean leader Kim Jong Un on Tuesday about halting military exercises, pulling a surprise at a summit that baffled allies, military officials and lawmakers from his own Republican Party.

At a news conference after the historic meeting with Kim in Singapore, Trump announced he would halt what he called “very provocative” and expensive regular military exercises that the United States stages with South Korea.

That was sure to rattle close allies South Korea and Japan.

North Korea has long sought an end to the war games.

Trump and Kim promised in a joint statement to work toward the “denuclearization” of the Korean Peninsula, and the United States promised its Cold War foe security guarantees. But they offered few specifics.

The summit, the first between a sitting U.S. president and a North Korean leader, was in stark contrast to a flurry of North Korean nuclear and missile tests and angry exchanges of insults between Trump and Kim last year that fueled worries about war.

Highlighting the change in tone, North Korea’s state-run news agency reported early on Wednesday that Kim and Trump had accepted invitations to visit each other’s countries. No dates were disclosed.

Noting past North Korean promises to denuclearize, many analysts cast doubt on how effective Trump had been at obtaining Washington’s pre-summit goal of getting North Korea to undertake complete, verifiable and irreversible steps to scrap a nuclear arsenal that is advanced enough to threaten the United States.

Pyongyang’s Korean Central News Agency (KCNA) reported that Trump offered to lift economic sanctions on North Korea.

Trump “expressed his intention to halt the U.S.-South Korea joint military exercises, which the DPRK side regards as provocation, over a period of good-will dialogue between the DPRK and the U.S., offer security guarantees to the DPRK and lift sanctions against it along with advance in improving the mutual relationship through dialogue and negotiation,” it said.

North Korea’s formal name is the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.

While suggesting Pyongyang would take mutual goodwill measures, KCNA made no mention of abandoning the country’s nuclear program.

Critics in the United States said Trump had given away too much at a meeting that provided international standing to Kim. The North Korean leader had been isolated, his country accused by rights groups of widespread human rights abuses and under U.N. sanctions for its nuclear and ballistic missile programs.

If implemented, the halting of the joint military exercises would be one of the most controversial moves to come from the summit. The drills help keep U.S. forces at a state of readiness in one of the world’s most tense flashpoints.

“We will be stopping the war games which will save us a tremendous amount of money, unless and until we see the future negotiation is not going along like it should. But we’ll be saving a tremendous amount of money, plus I think it’s very provocative,” Trump said.

His announcement was a surprise even to President Moon Jae-in’s government in Seoul, which worked in recent months to help bring about the Trump-Kim summit.

The presidential Blue House said it needed “to find out the precise meaning or intentions” of Trump’s statement, while adding it was willing to “explore various measures to help the talks move forward more smoothly.”

There was some confusion over precisely what military cooperation with South Korea that Trump had promised to halt.

U.S. Senator Cory Gardner told reporters that Vice President Mike Pence promised in a briefing for Republican senators that the Trump administration would “clarify what the president talked about” regarding joint military exercises.

“VP was very clear: regular readiness training and training exchanges will continue … war games will not,” Gardner later wrote on Twitter.

Pentagon officials were not immediately able to provide any details about Trump’s remarks about suspending drills, a step the U.S. military has long resisted.

One South Korean official said he initially thought Trump had misspoken.

“I was shocked when he called the exercises ‘provocative,’ a very unlikely word to be used by a U.S. president,” the official said, speaking on condition of anonymity.

Current and former U.S. defense officials expressed concern at the possibility the United States would unilaterally halt military exercises without an explicit concession from North Korea that lowers the threat from Pyongyang.

The U.S.-South Korean exercise calendar hits a high point every year with the Foal Eagle and Max Thunder drills, which both wrapped up last month.

U.S. military drills have been dialed back previously to encourage Pyongyang to cooperate. U.S. President George H.W. Bush agreed to cancel the huge “Team Spirit” joint military drills in 1992 in hopes the North would implement inspections agreements. The drills were eventually phased out.

(Graphic on U.S.-North Korea relations: tmsnrt.rs/2l2UwW7)

‘DIFFICULT TO DETERMINE’

In a Twitter post as he returned from Singapore, Trump hailed his “truly amazing visit” and insisted that “Great progress was made on the denuclearization of North Korea.”

Later, he tweeted: “There is no limit to what NoKo can achieve when it gives up its nuclear weapons and embraces commerce & engagement w/ the world.”

Republican Senator Lindsey Graham, who said Trump called him from Air Force One, praised the president’s leadership at the summit.

“The President has given Kim Jong Un a way out that is good for him and the world. I hope Kim is smart enough to take it. Well done, Mr. President,” Graham said on Twitter.

REFILE – ADDING RESTRICTIONS U.S. President Donald Trump meets North Korean leader Kim Jong Un at the Capella Hotel on Sentosa island in Singapore June 12, 2018. Kevin Lim/The Straits Times via REUTERS

But concerns persisted about the vague nature of the public agreements.

The Republican chairman of the U.S. Senate Foreign Relations Committee, Bob Corker, said in a statement: “While I am glad the president and Kim Jong Un were able to meet, it is difficult to determine what of concrete nature has occurred.”

World stock markets were little changed on Tuesday, while the U.S. dollar rose slightly against an index of major currencies, as investors brushed aside the summit.

The two leaders smiled and shook hands at their meeting at the Capella hotel on Singapore’s resort island of Sentosa, and Trump spoke in warm terms of Kim at his news conference.

Just a few months ago, Kim was an international pariah accused of ordering the killing of his uncle, a half-brother and hundreds of officials suspected of disloyalty. Tens of thousands of North Koreans are imprisoned in labor camps.

The leaders’ joint statement did not refer to human rights. Trump said he had raised the issue with Kim, and he believed the North Korean leader wanted to “do the right thing.”

Trump said he expected the denuclearization process to start “very, very quickly” and it would be verified by “having a lot of people in North Korea.”.

He said Kim had announced that North Korea was destroying a major missile engine-testing site, but sanctions on North Korea would stay in place for now.

It was unclear if negotiations would lead to denuclearization, or end with broken promises, as happened in the past, said Anthony Ruggiero, senior fellow at Washington’s Foundation for Defense of Democracies think tank.

But Victor Cha, who handled North Korea policy under former President George W. Bush, praised Trump’s unorthodox diplomacy and willingness to engage Kim directly.

“Despite its many flaws, the Singapore summit represents the start of a diplomatic process that takes us away from the brink of war,” Cha wrote in the New York Times.

DENUCLEARIZATION

The leaders’ joint statement said Trump “committed to provide security guarantees” to North Korea and Kim “reaffirmed his firm and unwavering commitment to complete denuclearization of the Korean Peninsula”.

North Korea has long rejected unilateral nuclear disarmament, instead referring to the denuclearization of the peninsula. That has always been interpreted as a call for the United States to remove its “nuclear umbrella” protecting South Korea and Japan.

The joint statement made no mention of the sanctions on North Korea and there was no reference to formally ending the 1950-53 Korean War, which killed millions of people and ended in a truce.

But it said the two sides had agreed to recover the remains of prisoners of war and soldiers missing in action, so they could be repatriated. The Pentagon said on Tuesday that nearly 7,700 U.S. military personnel are unaccounted for from the Korean War.

Trump said China, North Korea’s main ally, would welcome the progress he and Kim had made.

Slideshow (13 Images)

The Singapore summit did not get top billing in Chinese newspapers on Wednesday. The ruling Communist Party’s main newspaper, the People’s Daily, reported the news in a brief page 3 article about the Chinese Foreign Ministry’s reaction to the talks.

The English-language China Daily said in an editorial that while it remained to be seen if the talks would be a defining moment in history, the fact that the talks went smoothly was a “positive result”.

“While no one should expect the summit to have ironed out all the differences and erased the deep-seated mistrust between the two long-time foes, it has ignited hopes that they will be finally able to put an end to their hostility and that the long-standing peninsula issues can finally be resolved. These hopes should not be extinguished,” it said.

Reporting by Steve Holland, Soyoung Kim and Jack Kim; Additional reporting by Dewey Sim, Aradhana Aravindan, Himani Sarkar, Miral Fahmy, John Geddie, Joyce Lee, Grace Lee, Matt Spetalnick and David Brunnstrom in Singapore, Christine Kim in Seoul, John Ruwitch in Beijing and Phil Stewart, Doina Chiacu, Patricia Zengerle, Richard Cowan and Idrees Ali in Washington; Writing by Alistair Bell and Warren Strobel; Editing by Frances Kerry, Peter Cooney, Grant McCool

The post Trump in surprise summit move says he will halt Korea war games appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2y74q2x via Online News

[cleopatrarps]

Trump in surprise summit move says he will halt Korea war games

SINGAPORE (Reuters) – U.S. President Donald Trump made a stunning concession to North Korean leader Kim Jong Un on Tuesday about halting military exercises, pulling a surprise at a summit that baffled allies, military officials and lawmakers from his own Republican Party.

At a news conference after the historic meeting with Kim in Singapore, Trump announced he would halt what he called “very provocative” and expensive regular military exercises that the United States stages with South Korea.

That was sure to rattle close allies South Korea and Japan.

North Korea has long sought an end to the war games.

Trump and Kim promised in a joint statement to work toward the “denuclearization” of the Korean Peninsula, and the United States promised its Cold War foe security guarantees. But they offered few specifics.

The summit, the first between a sitting U.S. president and a North Korean leader, was in stark contrast to a flurry of North Korean nuclear and missile tests and angry exchanges of insults between Trump and Kim last year that fueled worries about war.

Highlighting the change in tone, North Korea’s state-run news agency reported early on Wednesday that Kim and Trump had accepted invitations to visit each other’s countries. No dates were disclosed.

Noting past North Korean promises to denuclearize, many analysts cast doubt on how effective Trump had been at obtaining Washington’s pre-summit goal of getting North Korea to undertake complete, verifiable and irreversible steps to scrap a nuclear arsenal that is advanced enough to threaten the United States.

Pyongyang’s Korean Central News Agency (KCNA) reported that Trump offered to lift economic sanctions on North Korea.

Trump “expressed his intention to halt the U.S.-South Korea joint military exercises, which the DPRK side regards as provocation, over a period of good-will dialogue between the DPRK and the U.S., offer security guarantees to the DPRK and lift sanctions against it along with advance in improving the mutual relationship through dialogue and negotiation,” it said.

North Korea’s formal name is the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.

While suggesting Pyongyang would take mutual goodwill measures, KCNA made no mention of abandoning the country’s nuclear program.

Critics in the United States said Trump had given away too much at a meeting that provided international standing to Kim. The North Korean leader had been isolated, his country accused by rights groups of widespread human rights abuses and under U.N. sanctions for its nuclear and ballistic missile programs.

If implemented, the halting of the joint military exercises would be one of the most controversial moves to come from the summit. The drills help keep U.S. forces at a state of readiness in one of the world’s most tense flashpoints.

“We will be stopping the war games which will save us a tremendous amount of money, unless and until we see the future negotiation is not going along like it should. But we’ll be saving a tremendous amount of money, plus I think it’s very provocative,” Trump said.

His announcement was a surprise even to President Moon Jae-in’s government in Seoul, which worked in recent months to help bring about the Trump-Kim summit.

The presidential Blue House said it needed “to find out the precise meaning or intentions” of Trump’s statement, while adding it was willing to “explore various measures to help the talks move forward more smoothly.”

There was some confusion over precisely what military cooperation with South Korea that Trump had promised to halt.

U.S. Senator Cory Gardner told reporters that Vice President Mike Pence promised in a briefing for Republican senators that the Trump administration would “clarify what the president talked about” regarding joint military exercises.

“VP was very clear: regular readiness training and training exchanges will continue … war games will not,” Gardner later wrote on Twitter.

Pentagon officials were not immediately able to provide any details about Trump’s remarks about suspending drills, a step the U.S. military has long resisted.

One South Korean official said he initially thought Trump had misspoken.

“I was shocked when he called the exercises ‘provocative,’ a very unlikely word to be used by a U.S. president,” the official said, speaking on condition of anonymity.

Current and former U.S. defense officials expressed concern at the possibility the United States would unilaterally halt military exercises without an explicit concession from North Korea that lowers the threat from Pyongyang.

The U.S.-South Korean exercise calendar hits a high point every year with the Foal Eagle and Max Thunder drills, which both wrapped up last month.

U.S. military drills have been dialed back previously to encourage Pyongyang to cooperate. U.S. President George H.W. Bush agreed to cancel the huge “Team Spirit” joint military drills in 1992 in hopes the North would implement inspections agreements. The drills were eventually phased out.

(Graphic on U.S.-North Korea relations: tmsnrt.rs/2l2UwW7)

‘DIFFICULT TO DETERMINE’

In a Twitter post as he returned from Singapore, Trump hailed his “truly amazing visit” and insisted that “Great progress was made on the denuclearization of North Korea.”

Later, he tweeted: “There is no limit to what NoKo can achieve when it gives up its nuclear weapons and embraces commerce & engagement w/ the world.”

Republican Senator Lindsey Graham, who said Trump called him from Air Force One, praised the president’s leadership at the summit.

“The President has given Kim Jong Un a way out that is good for him and the world. I hope Kim is smart enough to take it. Well done, Mr. President,” Graham said on Twitter.

REFILE – ADDING RESTRICTIONS U.S. President Donald Trump meets North Korean leader Kim Jong Un at the Capella Hotel on Sentosa island in Singapore June 12, 2018. Kevin Lim/The Straits Times via REUTERS

But concerns persisted about the vague nature of the public agreements.

The Republican chairman of the U.S. Senate Foreign Relations Committee, Bob Corker, said in a statement: “While I am glad the president and Kim Jong Un were able to meet, it is difficult to determine what of concrete nature has occurred.”

World stock markets were little changed on Tuesday, while the U.S. dollar rose slightly against an index of major currencies, as investors brushed aside the summit.

The two leaders smiled and shook hands at their meeting at the Capella hotel on Singapore’s resort island of Sentosa, and Trump spoke in warm terms of Kim at his news conference.

Just a few months ago, Kim was an international pariah accused of ordering the killing of his uncle, a half-brother and hundreds of officials suspected of disloyalty. Tens of thousands of North Koreans are imprisoned in labor camps.

The leaders’ joint statement did not refer to human rights. Trump said he had raised the issue with Kim, and he believed the North Korean leader wanted to “do the right thing.”

Trump said he expected the denuclearization process to start “very, very quickly” and it would be verified by “having a lot of people in North Korea.”.

He said Kim had announced that North Korea was destroying a major missile engine-testing site, but sanctions on North Korea would stay in place for now.

It was unclear if negotiations would lead to denuclearization, or end with broken promises, as happened in the past, said Anthony Ruggiero, senior fellow at Washington’s Foundation for Defense of Democracies think tank.

But Victor Cha, who handled North Korea policy under former President George W. Bush, praised Trump’s unorthodox diplomacy and willingness to engage Kim directly.

“Despite its many flaws, the Singapore summit represents the start of a diplomatic process that takes us away from the brink of war,” Cha wrote in the New York Times.

DENUCLEARIZATION

The leaders’ joint statement said Trump “committed to provide security guarantees” to North Korea and Kim “reaffirmed his firm and unwavering commitment to complete denuclearization of the Korean Peninsula”.

North Korea has long rejected unilateral nuclear disarmament, instead referring to the denuclearization of the peninsula. That has always been interpreted as a call for the United States to remove its “nuclear umbrella” protecting South Korea and Japan.

The joint statement made no mention of the sanctions on North Korea and there was no reference to formally ending the 1950-53 Korean War, which killed millions of people and ended in a truce.

But it said the two sides had agreed to recover the remains of prisoners of war and soldiers missing in action, so they could be repatriated. The Pentagon said on Tuesday that nearly 7,700 U.S. military personnel are unaccounted for from the Korean War.

Trump said China, North Korea’s main ally, would welcome the progress he and Kim had made.

Slideshow (13 Images)

The Singapore summit did not get top billing in Chinese newspapers on Wednesday. The ruling Communist Party’s main newspaper, the People’s Daily, reported the news in a brief page 3 article about the Chinese Foreign Ministry’s reaction to the talks.

The English-language China Daily said in an editorial that while it remained to be seen if the talks would be a defining moment in history, the fact that the talks went smoothly was a “positive result”.

“While no one should expect the summit to have ironed out all the differences and erased the deep-seated mistrust between the two long-time foes, it has ignited hopes that they will be finally able to put an end to their hostility and that the long-standing peninsula issues can finally be resolved. These hopes should not be extinguished,” it said.

Reporting by Steve Holland, Soyoung Kim and Jack Kim; Additional reporting by Dewey Sim, Aradhana Aravindan, Himani Sarkar, Miral Fahmy, John Geddie, Joyce Lee, Grace Lee, Matt Spetalnick and David Brunnstrom in Singapore, Christine Kim in Seoul, John Ruwitch in Beijing and Phil Stewart, Doina Chiacu, Patricia Zengerle, Richard Cowan and Idrees Ali in Washington; Writing by Alistair Bell and Warren Strobel; Editing by Frances Kerry, Peter Cooney, Grant McCool

The post Trump in surprise summit move says he will halt Korea war games appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2y74q2x via News of World

[brothersgrim]

Send “Examine!” and an item or person and I’ll write an RPG description of it/them. || Accepting

Anonymous asked:

taker examine your mismatched gaggle of spouses 

[EXAMINE: YOUR FAMILY] 

Well, some of them, at least. There are others that you consider family, but these ones? Well, these ones went ahead and got the paperwork for it. That has to mean something extra. 

It’s a nice day out. Sunny, warm, just a bit of a breeze coming in from the north. A good day to be on the porch. That's how you all choose to spend it, at least. The beers in your hands are cold, the glass clinking lightly as you move. That, plus the creak of the porch boards, heralds your presence. Steve looks up; Shawn seems too comfy to bother moving. That’s fine by you. If they’re happy, you’re happy. You come up behind the porch swing, drop two of the beers into Steve and Shawn’s laps. They both look up, and you take the opportunity to steal a kiss from Steve as you run your now-free hand through Shawn’s hair. Ael comes up the porch just in time for you to hand one of the two remaining drinks to him. You clink your bottle against his as you pop off the cap. He smiles and you feel at ease. They’re safe. They’re here. 

This is all you need.

[brothersgrim]

Send me a ♡ and my muse will describe their idea of the perfect date with your muse! || ACCEPTING

@texasrcttlesnake​ asked:

♡ hubs 💕 

“Something quiet.” He says, leaning back. “You and me deal with too much bullshit, I want it to be just the two of us. Think we can take the bikes,” he reaches for Steve’s hand, “pack some food, some drinks, and just ride. You bring that guitar, see where the roads take us. Stay out til we get tired.” He’s fiddling with his husband’s fingers, now, turning that shiny ring round, and round, and round. “Be home in time for dinner if we feel like it. Get something on the way if we don’t.” Then he smirks, tugging Steve in for a kiss. 

“And when we get back, break in that new limo. Vince ain’t gonna mind, right?”

[brothersgrim]

“You can put your head on my lap, you know. You look like you’re about to topple over from exhaustion.” // hubs <3

LOVE STARTERS

He sighs heavily. He is. He's so tired. He knows he needs a rest. He's mortal, now - he thinks - and it's strange. He's not used to it. He didn't think he'd need to be. He didn't think he'd ever be... Well, human isn't the right word. His mother always told him that people with their blood had never been human. But he was alive. ... He decided not to bother himself with the semantics. Whatever else he was, he was fucking tired. His limbs felt like concrete, his eyes hurt...

This wasn't Hell. He'd been to Hell. He could handle Hell. This was worse.

He's - pardon the pun - dead on his feet. He stares at the stack of paper on the kitchen table. Then he looks through the doorway to Steve. He's got so much left to do. He always had so much to do. But Steve's offer is enticing.

Aw, fuck it.

He sighs and shakes his head before slumping over to the sitting area. With all the ceremony in the world, he flops over onto Steve's lap. Full weight.

You asked for this, Austin.

[brothersgrim]

“ you  look  like  the  saint  peter  who  meets  fashion  trends  in  hell. ” // hubs :3

MBMBAM STARTERS

He snorts.

"Yeah, and you're no better." He glances over at Steve. He could use the excuse that it's laundry day; he is in the middle of folding clothes. He could argue that he wasn't planning on going anywhere, so why bother? Nobody else was going to see. It's fine. He could also say that having the choice was nice. He could do what he wanted now. He could wear what he wanted.

And if he wanted to wear shitty jeans and an old t-shirt and flannel and a bandanna, why not?

Yeah, he could say that. But he doesn't. Instead, he tosses the half-folded shirt onto the ironing board and looks Steve up and down as he dusts off his hands.

"You look like someone threw up in a box fan."

[brothersgrim]

“Mardi-Gras, baby! I’m real fucked up!” // for taker, because there’s no way drunk steve doesn’t end in disaster and flashing for beads.

JAY LOST THE MEME

He sighs and rolls his eyes. He's not surprised. In fact, this seems pretty par for the course for Steve. At least he's having fun.

And, you know what? He's having fun, too. New Orleans is different from what he's used to. It's sure as hell no Valley, that's for sure. The food is good, the drinks are good, and everyone is wearing a mask. Kane seems thrilled about that part.

His brother is happy. His husbands are happy. He's okay with all of this.

Plus, beer and beignets?

That's a good day for him.

"Don't lean too far, dumbass." He says as he grabs the back of Steve's shirt and hauls him back over the railing. The Rattlesnake comes back covered in beads, sparkles, and something that smells distinctly alcoholic. The folks down there must have good aim.

"If you splatter on the concrete, I ain't squeegeeing you up again."

[brothersgrim]

Send in a ❣ for a random kiss.

@texasrcttlesnake​ asked:

❣

8. a dying kiss.

It should never have come to this. He should have been better.

He should have been able to protect Steve.

Steve was all he had left. Steve, the home... He didn’t know about Kane. Kane was gone right now. Out of reach, just like Steve would be...

Like Steve would...

It still doesn’t feel real.

It can’t be real. It just can’t be. Steve can’t be leaving him. He can’t! He wouldn’t! He.... He promised. It’s juvenile, he knows. Everyone dies. Everyone and everything. He knew that. Arguably, he knew that better than everyone else in the world. And he had lost before.

God, he had lost before.

He didn’t want to lose again. He didn’t have a choice. Just like always, he didn’t have a choice. He was forced to watch again as his family slipped away.

God, Steve fit so well in his arms. He always had. Even now, cold and heavy and still, he fit so well.

“Hey,” a voice behind him. He doesn’t look up. He can’t. He can’t handle this. It’s not real. It can’t be.

“Take?”

He looked up. Finally looked up. And Steve was standing there. Because it has already happened.

Steve was already gone.

He’d already failed. He clenched his jaw and said nothing. Steve crouched down and looked at the corpse in Taker’s arms.

“Well, shit.” Steve sighed. It was such a ‘Steve’ thing to say, in another situation, Taker might have laughed. Not now. Now, it just made his chest seize up. Steve looked up at him and cracked a noticeably forced grin. “Guess I really pooched this one, huh?”

Taker sighed. Held the body closer and stood. ... Steve was so light. He’d seemed heavier when he was alive. Warmer. He’d squirmed more, too. Hung on tight even as he complained he was able to walk.

That wouldn’t happen anymore. Never again.

“Hey, Taker! Can you hear me, you big dead bastard?!”

“I can hear you.” It’s an automatic response. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” That sounds automatic, too. Steve steps in front of him and Taker stops, clutches the body tight. It’s hard to look at Steve. Not just because he loves him, because he failed him. Not just because Steve, he was so sorry. The Dead were always hard to see. Steve was blurred around the edges. A bit greyer. A bit brighter, even though the world seems so much darker already. Little transparent. Almost shimmery. A good man, clearly, but Taker had known that already. Steve reached out to put his hand on Taker’s face. At most, Taker felt a faint pressure, a buzzing of energy. He laid the body down carefully on the couch and leaned into Steve’s hand and it felt more solid.

Not the same, though. Never the same again.

“Had to happen eventually.” Steve’s voice was soft. Still hoarse like always, but close and far away all at once. Spectral. That’s the word. Of course it is. Because Steve is dead.

“Hell, the way I live?” Steve tried to force a smile. Taker couldn’t reciprocate. “I’m lucky I lasted this long.” He put his other hand on the other side of Taker’s face. “Real lucky.” Taker closed his eyes and drew a breath. It burned. It didn’t burn the way fire did; nor did it burn the way drowning did. No, it was far more familiar than that.

Grief burned in its own way.

His hands were shaking. He hadn’t noticed it until he put the body down. ... Steve’s body. Until he put Steve’s body down. His husband’s body. His husband, who he failed. He wrapped around his partner’s spirit and he was grateful for what he had become. If he were not the reaper he was, he wouldn’t get to hold him this one last time.

“I love you.” He said softly. He’d handled spirits before. Dozens, hundreds, thousands, countless. None were as precious to him as Steve’s. He felt like if he moved too fast, spoke too loud, Steve would vanish and he would be alone again. Alone forever. Alone like always.

“Love you too.” Steve murmurs. The Undertaker closes his eyes and holds him tighter. To anyone else, it would seem as though the Undertaker is standing in an empty room, holding himself beside the corpse of his forever. Nobody else would ever know. It was a private slice of eternity, only for the two of them, and the Undertaker didn’t want it to end. He couldn’t let it end. ... But he knew that he had to.

“You’re going somewhere nice.” He says without letting go. He tried to make it sound reassuring, but he knew, even to him, it didn’t really work. He knew Steve well enough that he knew, if Steve was corporeal, he’d tense.

“I’m already somewhere nice.” Steve said. There it was. That typical Austin bullheadedness that had driven the Undertaker up the wall so many times. The well-known Austin stubbornness that had sent the two of them to blows when they were younger. The famous Austin tenacity that had made him keep trying to help a lonely corpse find happiness. What was he supposed to do without it?

“Steve--”

“No.” Steve shook his head. “I ain’t going anywhere.” He took a small step back but didn’t let go, instead balled his fists in Taker’s jacket. Jaw set, blue eyes piercing. Yup. There it was. The light flickered. Taker hadn’t done that.

“Steve, you can’t stay.” It hurt so much to say that. Every word dropped like lead. Heavy and cold and dead. Bitter on his tongue. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. He couldn’t look at Steve’s face anymore. Not when he’s dead. Not when he looked so betrayed.

“I ain’t goin’!” Steve doubled down. “You can’t make me!” They both knew that he definitely could.

“Steve-”

“Hell no, son! My ass is stayin’!” Steve stepped back and pointed emphatically at the floor. Brow furrowed, shoulders squared. Not giving up without a fight. Of course not. He wouldn’t be Steve if he did.

“Steve-!”

“Ain’t heaven if you’re not there.”

The Undertaker couldn’t respond. Not when Steve was looking at him like that.

“... I’m sorry.” He said finally. Voice hoarse and quiet. Steve drew back a little more.

“Why can’t I stay?” Steve asked. He was restless, fidgeting. Crossing his arms, uncrossing. Taker glanced back to the body on the couch.

“You’re dead.” Taker said. Steve snorted.

“So are you.” He said, then jerked his head in the direction of the back door. “So are them sum’bitches out there. They’re stayin’, so am I.”

“You can’t!” Taker finally snapped. The frustration had mounted too high, the grief swirling into something sharp and vicious. “Most of them didn’t stay! The ones that did, they changed! Thy got hurt, twisted-- You think I could watch that happen to you?!”

“I can take it!” Steve retorted. “I dare whatever motherfucker does it to try!”

“You aren’t listening!” Taker took a step forward, looking off to the side before back at Steve. “I’m not letting that happen! Not to you!” He jabbed a finger in Steve’s chest.

“It won’t happen!” Steve shakes his head. The boards didn’t creak under his weight like they used to.

“You don’t know that!” Taker yelled back.

“Maybe I do!” Steve ran his hand down his face. “I ain’t going. I can’t. I’m not leavin’ you.” Taker breathes deep, exhales heavily, shuddering. His shoulders are so tense they ache. His chest burns. His head throbs. This can’t be happening. It’s not real. Not his Steve. Everything was so bright and so dark and so hot and so cold. Even his own voice, tired in its grief, seems like a gunshot.

“Just let me do this for you, Steve.” He said, hanging his head. Closes his eyes once again. Everything was so heavy. The silence that fell over them like a shroud weighted heavier still. Steve didn’t say anything. The Undertaker didn’t open his eyes. After a few eternal seconds, Steve did speak.

“What about that Sheriff?”

“What?” The Undertaker looked up and blinked his confusion. Steve looked excited.

“That Sheriff!” He said again, gesturing with both hands. “The one that comes back ‘round Christmas!”

“Jake.” Taker says automatically. Steve nods dismissively.

“That asshole.” He crosses his arms. “Can I get visiting hours like him?” Taker blinked again. He frowns. Thinks.

“It... Might not be up to me,” he says slowly, “But, maybe.”

“I don’t take maybe.” Steve snorted. “Don’t take no, neither.” That actually earned a smile from the Deadman. Tired, mournful... But genuine.

“I know.” He said, then sighed. “I know.” Steve stepped close again. Taker rested his hands on Steve’s hips. Still warm, but strange. Like static buzzing under his palms.

“So I’ll be back.” Steve said, sounding so damn sure of himself. “Find a time I can visit and be a pain in your ass again. ... October seems like a good month.”

“Heard that one before.” The Deadman mumbled. He had. Sitting over a ledger, working out guest lists and budgets and honey moon plans, he’d heard that one before.

“And I was right.” Steve held him tighter. “It was nice.” The Undertaker nodded.

“Best day of my life.” He let another moment hang between them.

“Mine too.” Steve leaned his forehead against Taker’s shoulder.

“... You still have to go.” The Undertaker finally said, even as he tried to hold Steve tighter still. (I don’t want him to go, said the Deadman’s heart. He’ll get hurt if he stays, replied his brain. I will hurt when he leaves, sobs the heart.)

“Fine. But I’ll be back.” Steve said and Taker wished he could believe him. “Just-” Steve stood up, glanced at the (his) body on the couch and grimaced. “Be gentle when you tell Kevin and Jenny. And Riley and the girls.”

Taker nodded and squeezed Steve’s hands.

“I will.” He promised. And he would. He had earned his ‘name’, after all. He knew how to talk to families. This would be far more personal, but he could manage. He had to manage. He owed Steve that much.

“Okay.”  Steve finally nodded. His voice was much softer, now. Still hoarse, but soft. Taker took his hand and stepped towards the back door, but Steve hesitated. “Ain’t gonna hurt, is it?” The Undertaker shook his head.

“Nothing is gonna hurt you again.” He said. Steve hummed a single note.

“Sounds dull as hell.” He commented. Of course Steve would say that. The Deadman snorts.

“Guess it is.” He agrees. He wouldn’t know. He paused on the back porch. How many times had they sat here together, watching the sun go down? How many drinks had they shared on the porch swing? This was where Steve had proposed to him. This had been his paradise. Because of Steve. Steve had given him paradise.

It was only fair he bring Steve to paradise, now.

“It’s beautiful.” Steve said. The Undertaker nodded. Keeping a hold of Steve’s hand, he took a step off the porch. Rather than falling down to the porch steps, or pas them to the dirt, his boot rested on something solid and invisible in the air. A swirling dust mote puffed outwards around his step. Another step up and this time, the dust mote that fell out seemed to outline a perfectly-angled staircase. Steve regarded it wearily, then followed behind his husband.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He mutters. Then, a little bit louder, “Hey, Take! Hold up!” the Undertaker paused. Steve kept looking down at where their feet remained a fair distance above the ground. He stomped one foot, then the other. Then he jumped up and down. Once, twice. Once more for emphasis. “Ain’t that a bitch?” ... At least he was having fun. But then, Steve had always been like that. Tenacious. Perseverant. Impossible to break.

Never willing to show how much he was hurting.

...

Maybe they should wait a little bit longer. Just to let Steve experiment more. Let him have his fun on his walk up. (His only walk up.)

(He was never coming back.)

“Feel like one of ‘em superheroes.” Steve commented. One more hop. “Hey, think I could pull off Clark Kent?” The Undertaker snorted.

“Sure. Got the reading glasses for it and everything.” He shook his head and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“You like my glasses.” Steve scuffed his boot on the stairs one more time. The Undertaker nodded.

“I do.” He took a breath and tugged Steve’s hand again. This was for Steve. To keep him safe. To bring him home. Keeping him here any longer would be selfish. The longer they waited, the higher the risk.

He could never risk Steve.

(Don’t be selfish.)

“’S a long way up.” Steve said after a while, looking down through the slowly-illuminating stairs as they ascended higher than the roof of the home.

“Your knees hurt?” Taker asked. Steve paused, frowned, then looked down.

“No.” He said. Taker nodded. Thought to himself that they never would again. The sky continued to lighten around them until it faded into a white expanse. The silence was broken by...

...

Engines revving?

The Undertaker almost smiled. Of course. How could he be surprised? It was Steve, after all.

“What in the hell-?” Steve began, but stopped with his mouth hanging open when the celestial stadium came into view. Lights dancing around the tops, massive trucks ramping over the edge of the amphitheater, the roar of a crowd and the announcer’s voice gleefully welcoming all of them to the show.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Steve exclaimed, grinning a mile wide. He was practically bouncing like a toddler before he turned to Taker again. “Why didn’t you tell me there was a big ol’ monster rally up in the sky?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” The Undertaker replied. Steve jogged up a few steps ahead and tugged on his hand.

“C’mon, I wanna see them motherfuckers crush a minivan!”

“I can’t.” The Undertaker said simply. Steve stopped. His grin fell away. He looked to the stadium, then to Taker. The stadium, Taker. He kept staring at Taker.

“Oh.” Steve said simply. He didn’t say anything else for a moment. Just watched his husband as the engines and crowds kept roaring. “So that’s...” The Undertaker nodded. Steve didn’t need to finish the question.

“Yeah.” He didn’t need to give more detail. They both knew. Steve stuck his thumbs through his belt loops. The Undertaker walked towards the stadium. Too dark, too filthy, too hell-bound and accursed to belong in such a place. He knew that he could go no further than the door.

“It’s time, Steve.”

“Fine.” Steve huffed, walking up beside him and slipping an arm around the Deadman’s waist. “It’s only temporary, anyway.”

“Right.” Taker said. Wrong. Taker thought. He forced another deep breath, then turned and gently tugged to get Steve to face him, too. Steve didn’t resist.

“I love you, Steven James.” Taker said, just as he had so many times. At the house in Victoria. The first night together in the home. When Steve’s truck pulled back into the driveway. When they got married. And now, when he said goodbye. He pulls Steve close and kisses him. Kisses him and does his best to commit how it feels to memory. He could never forget Steve. But just in case, he had to be sure. He also had to be sure Steve knew how much he meant those words. How much he’d always mean them. Steve finally pulled away, keeping his hands in Taker’s hair.

“Why you talking like it’s goodbye?” He asked, blue eyes dazed and sparkling, so bright in proximity to eternity. “It’s only ‘see you soon’. I’m comin’ back, remember?” The Undertaker nodded.

“I know.” (You won’t.) It takes more strength than he thought he had to let go of Steve’s hips (don’t be selfish). He has to let him go. Steve deserves paradise.

“Hey there, Stevie!” A weathered yet warm voice took their attention away, and both of them looked towards the man standing in the stadium doorway.

“Papaw?” Steve’s expression softened, melting into a warm disbelief. He glanced back to Taker, then to the man - his grandfather - in the door and took a few steps forward.

“C’mon in, boy. Your granny and I saved you a seat.” The smile on the old man’s face was warm, genuine, maybe a little sad, but wholly welcoming. Steve hesitated only long enough to give ‘Taker one last peck on the lips.

“Be back soon.” He grinned, so confident of himself, before turning to step into the stadium. “Hey, they got any of them extra-cheesy nachos in there?” The question was enough to keep a fond neutrality on the Undertaker’s face until the stadium door closed with a finality that even Steve Austin’s legendary stubbornness couldn’t match. He stayed there for a moment, standing alone in the bright, heavenly light, staring at the stadium door.

Then he turns and leaves.

Step by step down the ethereal staircase, until the roar of engines faded to silence faded to the distant croaks of ravens. Until the light had faded and the world was grey and empty again and the weight on his shoulders crushed him more and more with each step. Until his feet touched down and he found himself, alone and dead, in the land of the living once more.

But it wasn’t until he’d moved Steve’s body to the embalming room to take measurements that he realized he was crying.

[brothersgrim]

“What’s going on?” // for early hubs?

JAY LOST THE MEME

He shakes his head. He doesn't know. He- he doesn't know. He has no idea. It's not possible.

Kane is dead.

He knows that.

He's known that for twenty years. His parents were dead. His home had burned. His brother was dead. Those had been the inevitable truths of his world for so long. They were all that he knew.

And now it was false.

Because Kane was alive. Kane was alive, and had been this entire time. Or- Paul said he was. Paul was a liar. That's what he did. He'd lied about everything. But this? This felt-- It felt different, but it couldn't be. It couldn't be true. Kane was dead. Kane had been dead for twenty years. He'd stood beside that grave for twenty years.

Kane had to be dead. Because if he wasn't, then-- Then what had he...?

"Some goddamn bullshit, that's what!" It's an explosive anger, but he's not mad at Steve. He's just angry. Angry at Paul. Angry at Vince. Angry at himself. Angry at the world. And Steve is convenient.

He'll apologize later. Steve will understand; he always does. This is their way. The reaper grabs the chair nearest to him and hurls it against the dressing room wall. It clatters harmlessly to the floor.

"That son of a bitch thinks he can-!" He cuts himself off in a wordless snarl. His foot connects with the trashcan. It dents in and topples.

"And what about you, huh? Why're you here, Austin?" He whirls. "You here to give me shit, too?"

...

He'd apologize later.

[brothersgrim]

VALENTINES || ACCEPTING

@texasrcttlesnake​ / @mainevcnt​ asked:

unlike last year, instead of the bedroom full of heart-shaped balloons, the entire top floor of the funeral home is filled with them instead. there are rose petals on the stairs that lead right to the bed. an obscenely large teddy bear is sprawled out on the couch. “i love you beary much” is stitched into his belly. the dog keeps chewing on his foot. it’s chaos. happy valentine’s day, lazarus <3

... He doesn’t know what he expected.

Is he surprised? Yes, and no. Yes, because he hadn’t noticed this being set up. No, because this was Valentine’s, as he’d been suddenly reminded. (He didn’t try to forget. He’d gotten presents. He was even sure they had dinner plans. He’d only stepped away for an hour or two to get work done, he was sure of it.)

Apparently that was all it took.

Of course it was - It was Shawn they were talking about, after all, and he knew better than to underestimate the Heartbreak Kid. It had to be Shawn. He’d probably gotten Kane and Steve roped into his chaos, but Valentines’ was Shawn’s day. He’s batting the balloons out of the way with every step, and if he wasn’t used to the contented, slobbery growls Oro made when he chewed something he knew he shouldn’t have, it might have been concerning.

He stares at the bear (and the dog) for a moment, sighs heavily, and, with hands on his hips, head hung, and eyes closed, he calls,

“Alright, boys. Y’all had your fun - where you at?”

[brothersgrim]

Dying Starters

@texasrcttlesnake asked:

​ " i love you. you hear that, you stupid idiot?! i love you! and if you want to hear that again, you better wake up and be okay! " // hundsbamb :\

He nods. He knows. He’s always known. Every punch, every ‘Lazarus’ and ‘Dracula’, every time Steve had driven him up the wall.

Every night together, every kiss to bloodied knuckles, every ‘lemme get that for you’.

That had all been a part of their journey together. All been a part of falling in love their way. The rough and bloody and messy way. He grins, chuckles a little. Maybe it’s an inappropriate reaction, but he can’t help it. It’s almost funny. Almost. Not quite. Not quite.

“I’ll be back.” He says, and it comes out as a bit more of a cough than he intended.

Whoops.

For once, he hadn’t been trying to be dramatic. Didn’t wanna make it worse. Didn’t wanna worry Steve more than he already was.

“Back soon.” He repeats. He needs Steve to remember that. He reaches up to grab the back of Steve’s neck, pull him in for one last bloody kiss. Just to tide them both over until the reunion in the future. And then he manages a grin.

“Behave ‘til I get back, cueball. Your ass if you don’t.”

And then he’s gone.

But only for now.

Like always - like he promised - he’ll be back.

[brothersgrim]

PRINCESS BRIDE STARTERS

@texasrcttlesnake​ asked:

“Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.” // taker

He grunts, pressing his face further into the crook of Steve’s neck. He’s too sore to start anything. Too tired. He knows he’s going to be black and blue in the morning. He’s already showing some marks now.

He doesn’t know why he keeps coming back. He doesn’t understand what it is. Why does he feel safe with Steve when they always end up fighting? They went through an end table this time. ... He’d have to make a replacement, one to match the coffee table. He should have some of the right shade of stain left behind.

He didn’t know why he was here so often. Why it felt so warm in Steve’s bed. A sturdy arm around his shoulders, steady breaths tickling his cheek. Soft blankets, no screechy voice hollering orders. His jaw ached from where Steve’s fist had caught it earlier. They didn’t have a reason for this fight. ... Now that he thought of it, they didn’t have a reason for mist fights, anymore. Maybe the fights themselves are the reason. The reason he finds himself spending the night more and more. The reason he tastes beer and blood and Steve on his tongue, the imprint of fists and teeth alike covering both of them like a Pollock painting. The fingers that tangle loosely in his hair are gentle now, but had been rough before, yanking first to cause pain, then pleasure, then both, then petting through almost affectionately. His eyelids feel heavier and heavier with each pass over his scalp. He tells himself again he’s too sore and too tired to retaliate.

(Too warm, too safe, too l-- ... No, that’s not a word for them.)

“Try it.” He grumbles, eyes still shut against the dim city light. “I’ll fold you up like a goddamn lawn chair.”

And now he’s sleeping.

True romance.

[brothersgrim]

NSFW Prompts

STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT. our muses having a one night stand.

@texasrcttlesnake​ asked:

strangers in the night // taker (yeah right)

He hates Steve Austin. He does. He does.

He knows he does. That’s why he’s here in Victoria. He’s here to remind Steve that he hates him. Yes, that’s why. Absolutely why. It’s because Steve needs to know that the Undertaker never leaves anything unfinished. Not any fight, any argument, any brawl. And Austin had basically asked for it.

“Son of a bitch-!” Steve growls, staring at the smashed lamp for just a moment before looking back up to the snarling deadman. “How’m I s’posed to read my stories now?!” The Undertaker doesn’t reply. Only swings a wild punch in the Rattlesnake’s direction, and Steve ducks out of the way. Steve’s fist catches him in the jaw and the reaper’s vision blurs for just a second. He staggers. Swings low before he straightens and lands a hit on Steve’s gut. Steve wheezes and staggers and spits on the floor. Taker lunges and knocks both of them into the pressboard coffee table. It shatters. They both shake the impact off quickly and Taker only manages to get a hold of one of Steve’s hands before the other shoots up.

Steve grabs his hair and yanks. The Undertaker moans.

They both freeze.

Steve stares at him.

He stares at Steve.

“Did you just-?”

“Shut up!” The Undertaker snarls. He doesn’t remember what it felt like to blush. He can’t, without a pulse. He doesn’t want to admit that he might have been, if he could. There’s a weird glint in Steve’s eye and the Undertaker can’t help but feel mocked. He rolls off to make distance and Steve sits up. Steve grins. The deadman snarls. Steve pounces and the Undertaker does his best to grapple. A hand in his hair again. Another pull. The Undertaker bites his lip this time and thinks he manages to mask it as a growl instead. Steve’s snicker tells him it didn’t work. And then Steve is on top of him, hand twisting in his hair. Adrenaline shoots through the Undertaker’s body and is rendering everything in stark contrast when Steve...

Kisses him.

Wait, when Steve does what?!

It takes a second to process, but yes, Steve Austin is kissing him. Steve is kissing him and it tastes like blood and booze and something smokey and spiced.

And the Undertaker isn’t pushing him off.

And the Undertaker doesn’t want to push him off.

He could. He knows he could. But he doesn’t want to. He just... He doesn’t. The thought hit him harder than Steve had. Steve pulls away and it takes a second for the Undertaker to come back to his senses.

“Are you-” Steve doesn’t get to finish the sentence. Because now the Undertaker is kissing him. It’s just to make things even, he tells himself. To be square. One arm slung around Steve’s neck, one hand gripping his shoulder tight, pulling him down flush against the Undertaker’s chest. Keeping him close. Steve has both hands in his hair, now, twisted and knotted and pulling again and the Undertaker bites down in return. Catches Steve’s lower lip in his teeth and it’s the rattlesnake who moans this time.

“Fuck,” Steve mumbles, kissing the deadman a third time. Taker only grunts and pushes him off. They both sit up. They stare at each other. Taker blinks. Steve blinks. Almost unconsciously, Taker runs his tongue over his lower lip. Steve grins again. The Undertaker decides that he hates that grin. Absolutely, completely hates it. So he lunges and they end up careening through the broken table bits.

“Burn in hell.” The Undertaker glares daggers, ignoring the cut that drips into his eyebrow.

“Drag me there yourself.” Steve retorts. The Undertaker pounces again. Steve meets him in a grapple. It’s messy and uncoordinated and it feels far more natural. The deadman’s head cracks against the bottom of the couch and he lands another solid punch into Steve’s jaw. Steve gasps and leans back and that’s about the time they both realize he’s wound up in the Undertaker’s lap.

Ad he fit pretty well there.

Well, okay, maybe Steve hadn’t noticed how well he fit, but the Undertaker certainly had. And it might be almost all he can think about right now. Chest heaving, sweat shining in the low light. Once again, the Undertaker was aware that he should push Steve off, but he wasn’t. And Steve could move away, but he wasn’t.

Steve reached a hand up to his own jaw, scrubbing against the red mark of the Undertaker’s fist and working it back and forth to mitigate the sting.

“Something wrong, son?” Steve’s voice is low and for some reason the Undertaker can’t stop watching the way his lips form the syllables. There’s a split on the side.

Shiny and red.

Oh.

“You talk too much.” The Undertaker growls. His hand wraps around Steve’s throat and before he can second-guess himself he yanks Steve down for another kiss. Steve tenses in surprise but only for an instant before his hands once again bury themselves in the Undertaker’s hair. Steve is warm and solid against his chest when the rattlesnake presses in close. The Undertaker’s free hand grips onto Steve’s hip to add to the bruises he’ll already have tomorrow. He’s got his eyes closed and that helps him be acutely aware of Steve’s stubble scratching against his skin. It’s a new sensation. The last person he kissed--

Well, she died. And that was okay, because he hated Steve Austin. He did. Absolutely loathed him. Hates him so much he licks the blood from Steve’s lips. Drags his tongue slow across them and lingers just a bit on the cut. Sweet and savory and addicting. Steve moans and leans into the grip on his throat and it sends sparks down the Undertaker’s spine. Or maybe that’s Steve’s nails over his shirt. Maybe both.

“You sure about this?” Steve asked, pulling away. The Undertaker grunted his annoyance. “Cause I don’t start anything I don’t finish.”

... It was oddly sweet. Oddly considerate. Out of the norm for them. Still, the Undertaker feels like the darkened need in Steve’s eyes is reflected in his own.

“Neither do I.” The deadman replies. Steve grins again, but only for a moment. He gets tugged back for a kiss almost instantly. Steve grunts when their mouths collide. The Undertaker only kisses him harder in response. Teeth and tongues dominate his senses. He can taste whiskey on Steve’s tongue. Smokey and hot. Steve smelled of it, too. Something spiced. Something woodsy. And... Leather.

Was this what Steve always smelled like? It was--

Before he could think ‘nice’ or ‘tolerable’, Steve had yanked on his hair again. The Undertaker spat out a curse. Then there were teeth on his neck and he wasn’t cussing anymore. He could feel how smug Steve’s grin was against his pulse. Son of a bitch. He had to level the playing field. Do something. He fumbles with the hem of Steve’s shirt at first. It doesn’t do enough. Steve just grunts again and bats at his hands, biting lower down on Taker’s neck, closer to where the muscle connects to his shoulder. God, his mouth is so warm--

His hands find the collar of Steve’s shirt instead. Grip hard and pull. The fabric tears easily, as though it were tissue paper. Gives way with a muted, high-pitch scream as the fibers rip apart. Steve’s mouth detaches from his skin with a wet pop and he knows for a fact there’s going to be a red mark branded there.

“You piece of shit.” Steve looked down at his recently-bared chest like Taker had just spat on him. “I liked that one!” He sat back to shimmy out of the out of the ruined t-shirt and Taker took advantage of it. Tugged on one of Steve’s arms and pushed the other shoulder and rolled, winding up on top of him. Dark hair fell like a curtain around Steve’s face, pooling on the hardwood beneath them. If he didn’t hate Steve, Taker might have thought he looked almost beautiful like this. But he did hate Steve, so he didn’t think that. Didn’t think much of anything. Just kissed Steve again and messily dragged his mouth across to Steve’s jaw. Scrapes his teeth across sun-loved skin and pushes his knee between Steve’s legs. Steve gasps and rocks his hips against the Undertaker’s thigh and there’s something so addicting about the rush of power it sends through the deadman’s core. He could get drunk on it if he let himself. And so he presses his knee in again and bites at the shell of Steve’s ear and the sounds he gets make it even better. He groans his own approval and the noise is cut short when Steve gets revenge for earlier. A flash of pressure around his chest and then a pop and the sound of buttons skittering across the floor.

“Shit!” Taker growls, even as Steve’s hands find his chest. Squeezing and molding and appreciating the muscle there.

“Don’t matter.” Steve drags his nails down ‘Taker’s chest and Taker hisses. “You look better this way.”

....

The Undertaker didn’t know how to take that. He did know how to take it when Steve pulled him back down again, though.

That was easy.

Just kiss him.

He could do that. He could do that very easily.

But he still hated Steve. He did. Even if they fit together so naturally. Even if he barely noticed the artificial lemon scent of floor polish over how much of Steve (who he hated) filled his senses. Even if those rough, calloused hands did feel so good running down his torso. Warm and broad palms that were so damn greedy-- He’d been too focused on those hands, too focused on sucking another mark onto Steve’s neck, too busy feeling the way Steve rutted against him to notice the rattlesnake’s leg hooking around his. It’s a torque of Steve’s hips that sends them tumbling again. He’s winded when they land. Gasps for air. Or maybe gasps because Steve’s mouth picked up where his hands left off. Warm and wet and demanding against the taut expanse of the reaper’s chest. The snarl the Undertaker tries at lacks teeth (opposed to the teeth that bite down hard against his skin). He can’t hide the moan that follows. He doesn’t try. Eyes shut, head tipped back against the wooden floor. If he was looking, he might see the way Steve smirks against his flesh. But he doesn’t look.

He hates Steve.

But god, he loves the way Steve makes him feel.

Breath is ragged and nerves are alight as Steve’s mouth slowly trails down. His breath hitches and he hisses - nearly cusses blind - when Steve’s teeth catch his nipple, but when his glazed-over eyes find Steve, Steve is innocently continuing his downward path. The deadman growls and props himself up on his elbows to watch.

Just to keep an eye on him. To make sure he behaved.

Not because he thinks Steve looks like a goddamn work of art adoring him like that. Flushed and sweaty and bruised and...

He doesn’t even think about pushing Steve off. Not right now. Not when Steve’s already dragging his tongue along his stomach and plucking at the waistband of his pants and he’s so damn close to giving the Undertaker the relief he needs--

But of course, Steve didn’t want to be complacent. He was Steve Austin. He lived to be a pain in the ass. He was good at it. The pants slid down but not far enough. Steve lingered there, mouthing at a trail of dark hair that lead to where the deadman needed his mouth to be. A flick of his tongue and Taker barely held back a shiver. Instead, reached down and tried to shove Steve lower by the shoulder.

“Ain’t no one ever taught you any manners?” Steve refuses to oblige, instead nips at the sharp bone of the Undertaker’s hip. “Gotta be patient.” The Undertaker glares at him even through his blurring vision.

“Didn’t tell you to stop.” He spits the words in a haze of frustration. “You better keep going.” Steve paused. A curious look passed over his face and his tongue darted across his lips.

“Yes, sir.” He said. That was it. No back talk, no cussing. Just agreement. That was strange, and yet the Undertaker couldn’t deny how good it felt. Didn’t think long on it though. He couldn’t. Not when the caging fabric of his pants is finally pulled away and Steve’s warm, wet, silver tongue is teasing at his cock. He can’t even cuss. Steve’s tongue laps at the head of his dick then licks a slow stripe before all the Undertaker can process is the hot wet friction when Steve’s mouth engulfs him.

It’s a wordless gasp that’s almost a whine and he digs his nails into the floor. It’s without thought that his ragged breaths match Steve’s pace. Back-forth-back-forth-hot-wet-hungry--

Not fast enough. He grabs hold of Steve’s neck to urge him faster. Steve moans. The Undertaker sees stars. He’s not sure if he’s the one moaning, now, but he might be. He’s barely aware of how his skin sticks to the floor beneath them. Barely aware of one of Steve’s hands gripping his hips, nails digging in deep and sending sparks of delicious pain along with the mind-numbing pleasure (the other hand jacking himself off, encouraging more euphoric moans, more addicting vibrations to drive the Undertaker out of his mind).

“Fuck-... Aus-!” It’s about as coherent as he can get. Back-forth-back-forth hot-wet-fast and it doesn’t stop. He doesn’t want it to stop. He needs more. Steve gives him more.

Steve gives him everything.

The deadman’s back arches off the wood. His nails scrape across the boards and he gasps open-mouthed breaths. Nothing else exists but this moment. The dull aches from their brawl melt so wonderfully into the ambrosia that fills his mind. Back-forth-back-forth hot-wet-fast and there’s a hot tension coiling and blazing in his gut like a superheated wire, starting behind his eyes and ending in Steve’s mouth. It coils tighter and tighter with every move of Steve’s lips, tongue...

Oh, fuck.

He’s lost his grip on Steve’s throat and instead hangs on to his shoulder, desperate to ground himself somehow. It doesn’t work. Too close to the edge. Too close to-

Steve sucks one more time and he forgets his own name.

He’ll say he forgot the entire night, if asked. Absolutely all of it.

And he definitely forgot how he and Steve wound up, as well-dressed as the day they were born, curled up in Steve’s bed. Didn’t remember a second of it. It wouldn’t have made sense, anyway.

After all, he hates Steve Austin.