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halfgclden · 4 years

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Anytime | Graves&Cleo (& L)

Date: May 9th, 2020

Summary: Graves needs physical and spiritual healing after Fight Night. That is provided by a child of Apollo and a child of Dionysus respectively.

The sun had just begun to set as Graves had walked up to the Apollo cabin and lightly knocked on the door. The cabin almost seemed to be surrounded by a faint gold aura; whether that was from the setting sun or a result of the cabin's patron, Graves wasn't sure but he loved it all the same. He rubbed his shoulder, waiting for the door to open and thought about the events of the weekend thus far. The third round of 'fight night' had concluded a few hours ago, and though he hadn't won, Cam had had the time of his life. Now, showered and dressed, with the last of an ambrosia high leaving his system, he had texted L, requesting their healing expertise before he set out on the excursion he had in mind for that night. He knocked again, just in case his first attempt had been inaudible. "Hey, it's Graves."

L answered the door after the second knock, having to step over a sleeping dog to get to it. They'd spent the earlier part of the evening with their girlfriends in celebration, but they told them that they'd go to their cabin for an hour and then reconvene, in order to give people time to stop by and get any healing that they needed. They flashed a smile at Graves and stepped back so that he could step in, shoving a cat back with their foot as they did. "Hey! How's the shoulder doing?"

Graves' face lit up into a smile, first at the sight of L, then at the hairless cat trying to sneak around their leg to greet him. "George Caramel! Hey kitty!" He made the pspspspsps sound in the direction of the feline before stepping into the cabin. "Hey, long time no see," he joked. "It's doin' alright. Miranda demanded I get it checked out or - and this is a direct quote - juro que haré que te arrepientas por el resto de tu vida. I'm not entirely positive on what she said but it sounded violent. And so, here I am, at your doorstep, beggin' for your magic touch.” Graves grinned at L, "Would you be able to help me?"

L closed the door behind Graves and turned to see their cat, up on his hind legs, staring at Graves because of the sound he was making. “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds ominous, so I’ll heal you right up!” They grinned. “Do you want to sit for it? Or are you in a hurry? It’ll take, like, a minute, tops. I told my geefs I wouldn’t wear myself our before we went hard tonight.” L blinked. “Went hard in celebration,” they clarified.

"I'm headed somewhere but I'm not in a hurry. Sittin' works." Graves blinked for a second, then L's explanation sunk in and he chuckled. "Of course, don't tire yourself out on my account. Rosie would kill me." He turned to find a suitable place to take a seat. "What do I have to do?"

L took a seat on the arm of the couch and beckoned Graves over. “You don’t need to do anything, just sit there and look pretty.” They smiled. “You’re gonna feel really warm, then kinda sore, but you’ll maybe be able to move it once I’m done with you. Have you had any ambrosia yet?”

He made his way to the couch and took a seat next to L. "Lookin' pretty is my specialty," Graves smiled. His face was still bruised from the previous night's fighting but a few doses of ambrosia had healed up the cuts on his face fairly well. "I'm always warm, so I'm prepared. Yeah, Miranda made me take some right after we finished the round earlier. I feel great!"

“I know,” L said affectionately as they pat his head. “And yeah, you should have that moving real soon, but make sure you actually come to me every day until I tell you to stop.” They wagged a finger at him. “Not just when you feel okay, because then you might aggravate it and get muscle damage and I really don’t want to have to deal with that.” They pressed a hand into his shoulder and let the warmth pass from them into his arm, muttering a small prayer to Apollo as they did.

Graves looked chastised for a moment; if not for Miranda and L, he probably would've accidentally injured himself further. "I'm really not tryin' to damage any muscles so I'll be back tomorrow," he promised, closing his eyes as he felt the warmth emanating from L's hand. When it stopped, he was tempted to poke his shoulder and test how it felt. Instead, he looked at L. "Am I good to go, Nurse L?"

L nodded, happy that Graves was following their advice. They went from their stern, nurse face to their usual sunny one. After a moment, they pulled their hand away, feeling a bit tired but not fully drained. “Yeah, I’m gonna hold out a bit on ya in case someone else comes by, but make sure you do your best not to move it much, at least not until you see me tomorrow.”

"I'll be careful, swear." He stood and gave L a one-armed hug. "Thank you, thank you! You're amazin', you're wonderful, you're a ray of sunshine! Make sure you eat somethin', keep up your energy!" Graves moved to the door, stopping to wave goodbye to another one of L's cats on his way out. "See you tomorrow! Don't go too hard tonight!" He laughed and slipped out the door.

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Cleo sat in her room, playing music as she painted her nails. She sang along under her breath, blowing on her left hand as she painted the right. Between each nail, she took a moment to spin and dance around the room, changing each song just before it ended. She hadn’t thought that she was playing it very loudly, but she also didn’t notice any knocking until she was very sure that there was knocking, and she ran out to go check the door, opening it carefully so as not to smudge her nails. “Cam.” She smiled for but a moment before her face dropped, taking in his cut up face and shoulder in a sling. “What happened?” She stepped back to let him in.

Graves couldn't help but laugh; here he was, standing outside the Dionysus cabin on a whim, just knocking repeatedly. He tried not to feel too ridiculous; he wasn't even positive if the person he was looking for was here. Then again, he could hear music blasting inside and from the sound of it, she was. Graves was torn between keeping his arrival a surprise or sending Cleo a text to let him in already. When she opened the door and her expression turned to one of worry, Cam's smile faltered but only for a second before he beamed at her brightly. "Bancroft, hey." He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "Oh this?" He asked, looking at his immobilized arm as if seeing it for the first time. "I forgot to bring my good luck charm to fight night apparently."

“My gods.” Cleo exhaled a breath and raised her hand as though to touch him, then dropped it again. “I should have figured you went to that stupid thing.” She’d heard about the fight night, but being that she wasn’t a fighter, none of her friends were going, and she didn’t want to see people get maimed, she hadn’t gone herself. Zoe mentioned that there was a second part to it earlier in the day, but she took the time to herself instead, which meant that she missed out on whatever it was that caused Cameron his scuffled appearance. “Are you okay?” She drew her brows together and watched him.

He watched Cleo's hand hover for a moment before she dropped it. Graves' fingers twitched, almost tempted to- he sent the thought away, raising an eyebrow instead. "Woah, hey. It wasn't stupid, it was actually a lot of fun." Graves ran his fingers through his hair, noticing the concern etched into her features. He tried to lighten the mood, "I'm better now." He winked at her with his blackened eye.

Cleo crossed her arms, thankful that Len was at a sleepover and not watching their sister lecture a half-beaten boy in their cabin. "Just because it was fun does not negate the fact that it was stupid, Cam." She frowned at him, though she didn't see anything that she could do for him. "Do you want ice? Have you been to the healers?"

"C'mon Bancroft, I don't look that bad, do I?" A small voice in his head told him that yes, he looked like hell and should go home and rest but he was already here. It would take a little more than a frown from Cleo to send him home right now. "I stopped by the Apollo cabin on my way here." Graves chewed his lip, trying not to smile as she told him off. "Okay, maybe it was a little stupid. Was showing up here also stupid?"

Cleo wiped her hands down her face and sighed. "Ugh, Cameron, you look hurt." She looked back at him, pouting slightly, taking in the bruises that lined his jaw and collarbone. If she was honest, it was the sling that was the worrying part, and had he just shown up with a few cuts and bruises she probably would've stopped lecturing him after she made sure he was okay. She pursed her lips and took his left hand, sighing as she noticed bruising there too. "No, it wasn't stupid. I can't really do much for you." She pulled him towards the kitchen. "But I always have ice. Or at the very least something cold to press to a black eye."

Graves scrunched his nose and frowned, seeing Cleo's expression shift into a pout as she took in all his bruises. "It, um, it's not that bad. Looks a lot worse than it is, swear." He exhaled through his nose when she took his hand and watched her examine the bruises on his knuckles with her slender fingers. Graves let himself be pulled towards the kitchen; it took a moment for her words to sink in. "Oh, Bancroft, no no. I didn't- I didn't come for ice. I just came to see you." He offered her a soft smile.

Cleo looked up at Graves when he spoke and squinted at him slightly, biting her lip. She shook her head at him but couldn’t help but smile at his words. “You’re so...” She didn’t really know how to finish the sentence. She dropped his hand so that she could tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear and move to her fridge. “Well, you’re getting both. Did you want anything to drink?” She opened the freezer and pulled out a half-empty ice tray.

He quirked an eyebrow at Cleo, wondering how that sentence might have ended. But she dropped it, and his hand, so he let it be. “Both is good,” Graves laughed. “And um, water would be great. Thanks.”

Cleo grabbed a hand towel and dumped the ice into it, then handed the bundle over to him. She took two remaining cubes of ice and put them in a glass, then filled it with water from the sink. She frowned when she realized he couldn’t hold both the ice pack and the water. “Okay, I can... ice your face while you drink?”

Graves held out his hand to accept the bundle of ice from Cleo but faltered, realizing she had a point. “Hmm, uh, yeah. That works, hang on.” He hopped onto the counter with surprising grace for someone with his injuries. Graves flashed Cleo a cocky grin and tapped his ring against the edge of the counter. “Lucky jump.”

Cleo opened and closed her mouth, somewhat incredulously, when Graves jumped onto the counter. She shook her head. "Now you're gonna have to bend down more for me to ice your face, doofus." She rolled her eyes at him, but smiled and stood in front of him. She held out the water. "How'd you break your arm?"

“Didn’t think of that, oops.” He clicked his tongue, then leaned down enough to make it easier for Cleo to reach his face. Graves accepted the glass of water and took a sip. He shook his head, his smile rueful. “Not broken. I...dislocated my shoulder.”

She pressed the makeshift ice pack into his jaw carefully and frowned, sucking in a breath sympathetically. "Should I ice that instead? Is that what you're supposed to do for it?"

Graves closed his eyes as Cleo pressed the ice to his jaw, feeling the chill spread. “No no, L worked their magic on it right before I got here and I’m still cruisin’ from some ambrosia earlier. I just have to try not to move it, hence the sling. Really, Bancroft, I’m okay. You’re lookin’ at me like I might fall apart.”

Cleo huffed. "I wouldn't be looking at you like that if you didn't come to me in pieces." She shook her head and chewed her lip, raising one shoulder in a small shrug. "But, you know, you're tougher than I realize, I guess." She pursed her lips again. "Who'd you fight?"

Graves was about to protest that he wasn't in pieces anymore; Ime had seen to that when they'd popped his shoulder back in. He wrinkled his nose at the memory. "You think I'm tough?" His face lit up in a goofy smile, but he tried to play it cool. "That's good. You're right. I am." He tried not to move too much while Cleo was icing his jaw, but found he was having a hard time sitting still. He set his glass down beside him and started tapping the edge of the counter with his hand. "First round, Rosie. She climbed me like a fuckin' monkey, I threw her off the platform. Second round, Ramona and Tai. Blue and I were a team. It was a heated fight." He wondered if Cleo had heard anything about fight night and would disapprove of his word choice. "My shoulder was from fightin' Tai. Not his fault though! He got me good, I dropped my sword, I fell and landed....wrong."

"Of course I think you're tough." Cleo shook her head and resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. "Coming to me with a busted arm and jaw. The bruised knuckles are what really drove me from feeling bad to being impressed, though, honestly." She smiled at him softly and then looked to his hand, tapping against the counter. "That's... a lot of people." She tilted her head and grimaced. "Fell so wrong it took your arm out? That's disgusting, Cam."

"Impressed, huh?" Graves bit his lip, suppressing an even larger smile. "Maybe I have to win fights more often," he mused, deciding not to mention he technically hadn't won last night's fight. "I'd say I wish you were there, so you could've seen the action but...yeah, gods." He shook his head. "Fuck, Bancroft. I fell very wrong. The sound..." Graves winced. "Shoulders should not sound like that. I'm glad you didn't hear it. Or hear me when it happened." He looked away, suddenly fascinated with a vine on the wall.

Cleo dipped her head as she shook it again. "Gods, you're just..." She sighed and didn't finish her sentence again, then looked back up at him, scrunching her face in disgust. "Oh, gods, ew. Please don't tell me any more about it." She frowned, then rested a hand on his knee. "I'm really glad you're okay."

Cleo's growing habit of leaving her sentences unfinished was only making Graves more and more curious about those unsaid words. But she didn't offer them up, and again he didn't ask. He stopped tapping on the counter to hold his hand up in surrender. "I won't, you don't want to hear them. I don't want to have heard it," he tried to joke. Graves' eyes flickered down to her hand on his knee. "Bancroft, you worried about me?"

Cleo stuck out her lower lip a bit. "If you have a less scary fight, tell me about it, and maybe I'll come. I've never seen you in action." She smiled and shook her head again. "Um, duh? Wouldn't you be worried if your friend showed up to your doorstep unannounced with a black eye and a cast?"

"Next time, maybe." He winked at her. "Ah, we'll have to change that. Did you know I fight with two swords? I don't know if I ever mentioned it. It's fuckin' fun. Okay, if you put it like that, I guess I'd be a little worried." Graves gave Cleo's hand a little squeeze and smiled, before tapping a rhythm with his ring this time. "And if you showed up on my doorstep like that, I'd ask who's ass I needed to kick."

Cleo smiled slightly, tapping his knee lightly with her fingers. “I think you’ve mentioned them before, and I’m pretty sure I was as impressed by the idea of the visual as I am now.” She looked down at their hands, watching his as he tapped his rings against her counter. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever asked what prompted the skull on his hand, but was pretty sure that it was something along the lines of ‘it was fucking cool’, as his others were. She smiled and shook her head. “I won’t show up on your doorstep like that.” Cleo didn’t get into many physical fights, if any at all, and if she did get into one, it was likely not going to be someone who’s ass Graves would be willing to kick.

Graves pressed his lips together; he assumed that the only altercations Cleo might get in were ones he really should stay out of, so he changed the subject. "Did I tell you that my swords are my rings?" Graves held his hand out for Cleo's inspection. He'd caught her looking at his hands often enough; whether she was looking at his assortment of jewelry or the tattoo on his left hand, he could never be sure. He leaned closer, resting his forehead on hers. "The ones I wear on my middle fingers," he explained.

Cleo kept watching his hand as he raised his, biting her lip as she picked up the hand not pressed against the slowly melting ice pack. She shook her head slowly. “I didn’t know that,” she said, lowering her voice. Something about the proximity made her feel less as though she had to compete with the music still playing in her room for volume. She glanced up again as his forehead met hers and swallowed. “You’re always prepared to fight, then? I never see you without them.” Water slid down her arm and she looked at the bundle, then put it down on the counter at his side, doing her best not to break contact with him.

He hummed softly, watching Cleo take his hand in her own for the second time that night. "They're enchanted. I can't lose them. So I guess, yes. Can't ever be caught without a way to defend myself." He glanced at the bundle of melted ice on the counter next to him. Graves could feel a few drops of water lazily trailing along his jaw and down his neck. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, staying as still as he could.

She ran her thumb over his knuckles as softly as she could, resting it against his ring. “They’re really pretty, so it’s nice that you don’t lose them,” she murmured. Cleo looked up, scanning his face as he closed his eyes, then reached up to brush the water from his neck. “Oh, you have...”

"They were a gift," he said, his voice low. Graves' eyes were still closed, unaware of her movement. When Cleo's fingers brushed his neck, he jolted back in surprise, knocking the glass of water over in the process. As water poured over the edge of the counter, it seemed as if a spell had been broken. Graves grimaced, "Sorry, I'll clean that up." He moved to hop off the counter, looking embarrassed and feeling strange.

Cleo moved back with a start when Gaves jolted, shocked by the sudden movement. She shook her head and grabbed another hand towel to wipe up the spill. "No, don't worry about it, I shouldn't have..." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and put the towel down on the counter. "Did you, um, want something to eat? I have a few snacks."

Graves moved for the hand towel the same time Cleo did and their hands bumped together. “Sorry,” he repeated, feeling heat rise on his cheeks. He leaned against the counter, pondering food options. “You’re hungry? You’ve got a snack right here.�� He flicked his eyebrows upward, looking at Cleo playfully.

Cleo picked up the half-melted ice bundle as well and tossed it into her sink as she laughed, shaking her head at him. Even still, she let her eyes scan over him, noting where his cropped shirt ended and his midriff began. She bit her lip, then looked up, meeting his eyes instead of staring at his torso. "Shut up. I'm surprised you didn't call yourself a meal."

"Is that your way of callin' me one?" He watched Cleo's eyes sweep over his body, catching at the hem of his shirt. Graves ran his thumb over his bottom lip, trying to hide a smile. He met her gaze and held it, expression saying caught you.

Cleo pressed her lips together and shook her head at Graves, blushing slightly. "Um, no. I was just saying that that's something you'd say." She shook her head and went back to occupying herself with wiping up the spill again, though it was already mostly soaked up by the towel.

Graves' smile widened, "Well, y'would've been right. I am a meal. But, uh, if you're actually hungry, yeah I could eat. I think you've got all the water, ma'am." He took a step closer to Cleo and was about to place his hand on her arm but thought better of it.

Cleo looked up at Graves and set her jaw, dropping the towel into the sink next to the other one. "I'm not too hungry, I was just offering because I don't know what else to do," she admitted with a laugh. She pressed her hand to her forehead and shook her head. "Um, I think I have leftover dumplings and then, like, Redvines? I have a stash of mini Snickers too, but I'll only let you take one, two if you're really nice."

"I'd take a Redvine, if you're willin' to part with them. I'll let you keep your Snickers, because I'm that nice. And I don't...really know what else to do either," Graves smiled slightly before looking away. "We could..." He mused. "Stand here and talk about how stupid I am for signin' up for fight night. Or watch a movie. Or sing along to whatever you were listening to. Or I could tell you how cute your pajamas are. Or go for a walk. Any of those sound appealin', Bancroft?"

Cleo laughed quietly. "A single Redvine? How polite." She smiled, looking down at herself when he commented on her pajamas, then looked back up at him, taking a step forward, but leaned against the counter. "I would like nothing more than to sing along to music or go for a walk right now."

Graves gave a little half-shrug, the best he could do right now. Still, he winced a little and grit his teeth to hide it. He raised an eyebrow as she stepped closer, leaning casually into the conversation. "Walk first? Dramatic karaoke after?"

Cleo reached into her cabinet and grabbed a pack of Redvines, then held one out to Graves, and took two for herself. "Sounds amazing. I should probably shut my music off first, unless it makes people think I'm home, keeps me from getting robbed."

Accepting the Redvine from Cleo, Graves laughed. "I doubt you'll get robbed. Maybe the music will drive people away." He took a bite of the candy, smiling innocently.

Cleo chewed her candy and shrugged one shoulder at Graves. "It's a good strategy, no?" She laughed and took his good hand carefully. "Where do you want to walk to? Woods, beach, lake?"

"An excellent strategy. You claim to know every inch of the woods, if I recall correctly." He finished his Redvine, letting Cleo take his hand. He ran his thumb over her hand. "I'm ready when you are. You can borrow my flannel if you're not warm enough."

"Every inch," Cleo repeated incredulously as she rolled her eyes, still smiling. "I know the woods super well, yeah, so I can acquaint you with it." She looked down at his hand, then to the flannel at his waist, and then back up to him. "Would you need a sweater from me then?"

Graves couldn't help but grin as Cleo rolled her eyes. His gaze drifted down to their hands, fingers laced together. The flowers inked on her skin caught his eye and he tried to trace the one on her thumb. He looked up, "Oh, no. Thanks, but I run warm. I'll be okay."

Cleo kept an eye on their hands, looking up so that she could smile at him. "Fine, then we should go, because I'm okay too." She tugged him slightly as she led them out of her kitchen, but dropped his hand so that she could run into her room and turn off her music. "I don't want my speaker to die," she explained as she returned to his side.

He tilted his head, waiting for Cleo to reappear from her room. "Makes sense," Graves nodded. He held out his hand, almost shyly, for her to take. "Lead the way, Bancroft."

Cleo took his hand, not really expecting him to offer his hand up when she returned. She led him out of the cabin and into the twilight. She inhaled and closed her eyes, smiling. "This is my favourite time of day. Dusk."

Graves followed Cleo outside, looking up at the sky. "I think I like golden hour best. But this is real decent." He smiled, letting her pull him onto a path that led to the woods. "D'you spend a lot of time out here?"

“How else do you think I know every inch?” Cleo asked with a smile. She ran her thumb over Graves’s knuckles softly. “You spend more time at the lava wall than in the woods?”

“Ah, duh. Stupid question.” He mentally smacked himself and hoped he wasn’t blushing in embarrassment. He flicked his eyes down at their hands, watching Cleo run her thumb over his knuckles. Graves trusted her to lead him while he wasn’t paying attention, knowing she wouldn’t let him trip or fall. “I spend more time at the lake or river I think. Although you know I love the lava wall.”

Cleo smiled at him, then pulled him off of the path to a section of trees that were fairly close together. There was a sort of man-made path there, only indicated by the trampled grass and other markers, if you looked closely. “Always need to be close to the water?”

Graves couldn’t tell where they were going on the fading light but Cleo moved with such ease, it was clear she’d walked this trail often. He stepped over a raised tree root, careful not to trip. “Mhm, yeah. I always feel more grounded when I can hear the waves.” He avoided another root. “Ma’am where are you taking me?”

Cleo walked slowly, aware of the fact that Graves wasn't as used to this part of the woods as she was. "Ah." She nodded in understanding. "Ocean boy." She flashed a small smile at him. "Do you like surprises?"

“Bancroft. Who doesn’t like surprises?” He tapped her knuckles with his thumb. “Of course I do. I’m just impatient is all.”

Cleo laughed and pulled him further into the forest, past gnarled roots, which she stepped over carefully, and around large trees, which she skirted around. She obviously knew this path well, with the way she was walking it in the fading light, and she pointed out a few tricky spots to get over to Graves. Eventually, they emerged into a clearing, which was fairly well-lit, due to the clear sky and waning but near-full moon. Fireflies dotted the clearing, and floated in patterns around the center of it. As they stepped out, Cleo smiled up at Graves. "Surprise?"

Graves felt like they’d stepped into the labyrinth with all the twists and turns their path took. With help from Cleo, he managed not to stumble at all on their way to the clearing. When they stepped into the open, Graves blinked in surprise, his eyes adjusting to the light. The moon was big and the sky glittered with stars. “Woah...this, this is awesome.” He let go of Cleo’s hand, reaching out to catch a firefly. With a soft smile, Graves held his hand out to her, firefly faintly glowing in his palm.

Cleo beamed at him, happy that he seemed so pleased with their destination. She stepped further into the clearing as he let go of her hand, but turned so that she was still facing him. "Gods, I remember when I first found this place. I thought it was, like, enchanted or something. Now I know it is."

The firefly took off, light flickering as it left Graves’ palm. He took a few steps forward, following Cleo into the heart of the clearing. “Enchanted?” He asked. He held out his hand, trying to scoop another firefly out of the air.

Cleo caught a firefly and opened her hands to examine the blinking bug. "Yeah. Isn't it magical? I legitimately thought these were, like, floating lights or fairies or something."

"I love that," Graves said. He looked over at Cleo, grinning proudly to show her the two fireflies he'd caught. "I definitely thought fireflies were fairies as a kid." He took another step towards her before moving to sit in the grass. He patted the spot next to him, looking up at her.

Cleo grinned approvingly at Graves's catch, then took a seat next to him. "I was fourteen, but I'd never seen them before, so that's my excuse."

Graves stuck his tongue out at Cleo. "I grew up hearing all these wild stories about gods and monsters and prophecies from my grandma. That is my excuse." He leaned back in the grass, propping himself up with his good arm and looked up at the sky. "The stars are so bright," he said quietly.

Cleo laughed. "I wasn't making fun of you! I was just saying I wasn't a kid. Or, I guess I was. Fourteen is still a kid." She tipped her head back and leaned back on her hands, then her elbows. "Yeah. The moon was full two nights ago."

He scooted a little closer to Cleo, then laid down fully, the soft ground comfortable beneath his back. Graves raised his arm, pointing to a cluster of stars in the sky. "There's the Big Dipper," he smiled.

Cleo smiled as she noticed him move closer, then laid down fully. She moved his arm over so that he was pointing elsewhere in the sky. "And there's Orion."

Keeping their hands together, Graves steered their pointed fingers to another constellation. He squinted. "That's Leo." He turned his head to look at Cleo, "Do you have a favorite?"

Cleo smiled as her hand was taken in Graves’s and turned her head to look at him. “Gemini.” She watched him through blades of grass. “I like the story. What about you?”

"Draco. I've always liked the story too." He looked back up at the sky and sighed contentedly. "I didn't expect my day to go like this."

"Do you like dragons?" Cleo felt her arm growing tired but did not want to let go of his hand, and left it. She watched him as he watched the sky. "How were you expecting it to go?"

“Who doesn’t like dragons? They’re so cool. I can’t believe they’re real, honestly. The gods? No problem. Dragons? Mind-blowing.” Graves pointed out another constellation, the Big Dipper, before lowering his arm. He didn’t let go of Cleo’s hand, resting their arms in the grass between them. “I don’t know. No brainer that I lost round 3 today, like this. But I didn’t even know if you’d be home. Or want to hang out, I just kinda, showed up.” He laughed a little.

Cleo laughed. “Was that a byproduct of being raised by a psychic? Like, ‘oh yeah, gods and that– wait, did you say dragons?’” She smiled and looked up finally as he lowered their hands. “The fact that you even competed is impressive, honestly.” She scanned the sky, almost in disbelief of how clear the night was. “Why wouldn’t I want to hang out?” She turned to look at him again, running her thumb over the back of his hand. “I’m glad you showed up.”

Graves smiled, shaking his head slightly. "Maybe. My gran used to tell me the craziest stories." His smile widened, and he bumped her shoulder gently, moving a little closer to her. "Impressive, mhm. That's twice tonight you've said that." He turned his head to look and Cleo and winked before looking back up at the sky. "I dunno, maybe you had other plans." He laughed. Graves turned to look at her again, running his thumb over her hand as well, "I'm glad you brought me here."

Cleo looked at him again when he bumped her shoulder and smiled at him. "Keeping track? Should I say it more?" She laughed. "Am I lame for not doing anything but sit in my room doing my nails on a Saturday night?" She smiled and checked the hand that wasn't holding Graves's. The polish was smudged, but she didn't care. She dropped her hand again and turned onto her side, facing him. "I'm glad too. This is one of my favourite places in the world."

"Actually, you've said it three times, but one of them you were referrin' to my swords so..." He gave her hand a little squeeze then rolled onto his side to face her. "Y'can say it as many time as you like. Nah, nah that's not lame at all. Maybe I should paint my nails." Graves laughed a little. "In the world? And you brought me here?" He raised an eyebrow at Cleo, teasing her.

Cleo smiled as Graves turned to face her. “Maybe I won’t say it at all, now that I know you like it so much.” She glanced down, as though she would be able to see his hand in the dim lighting, then looked back up. “I can do your nails for you. Not now, obvi, but sometime.” She pressed her cheek into the earth, obscuring her face slightly behind the grass. “Yeah, but only because you looked so hapless. I guess I won’t make a habit of it, if you don’t like it.”

Graves exhaled through his nose. "I knew I shouldn't've said a thing." He peered at Cleo through the blades of grass between them. "That would be fun. I could...try to do yours? No promises on how they turn out." He scoffed. "Hapless?" He shook his head. "Nah, nah I love it. I could come here every day and it would be just as enchanting."

Cleo found that she had a hard time not smiling at him. "Maybe so." She ran her thumb over his. "I'd like that. Maybe it's your hidden talent." She moved her legs so that her knee was against his. "Yeah, like, you look all sad and unfortunate, so I needed to take you somewhere to cheer you up." She smiled somehow wider and turned her head to try to look up out of the clearing at the stars again. "Yeah," she exhaled the word with a breath. "It's... near perfect. Maybe just perfect."

"Yeah," he snorted. "With my luck, it might be." Graves was very aware of Cleo's knee pressed against his; he edged a little closer, pressing more of his leg against her own. Reluctantly, he let go of her hand and propped himself up on his elbow, trying to get more comfortable. He rested the side of his head in his hand and studied Cleo's face as she looked at the stars, a faint smile on his lips. A lock of hair was curled against her neck and Graves wished his arm wasn't in a sling, wished that he could reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear. He blinked a few times and swallowed, surprised at himself, then glanced up at the sky. "Near perfect?" Graves turned to look at Cleo, a gleam in his eye. His voice was low as he spoke. "And how, ma'am, can I make this night perfect?"

"With your luck." Cleo smiled. "You're saying that like you aren't lucky. Aren't you supposed to be my good luck charm? If you're defective, I might have to send you back." When he let go of her hand, she turned over a bit more, resting her hand on her stomach as she scanned over constellations. As he spoke, she looked at him again, then propped herself up on an elbow to bring herself to his level. She smiled slightly, somewhat sadly, and reached out to brush her fingertips over his cheek, down across his jaw, then dropped her hand. "Don't be so hurt?" She sighed and then sat up, tilting her head back to observe the sky fully. "Bring me back to Portland?"

"Dislocated shoulder certainly sounds defective, you better ship me back," he joked. Graves closed his eyes, exhaling softly as he felt Cleo's fingertips on his jaw. He tilted his head into her touch without realizing it, but as quickly as her touch had come, it was gone. "Bancroft..." he breathed, but even as he started his sentence, he knew it had no end. He opened his eyes and frowned a little as she leaned away, then looked up at the sky again. Graves found the moon and focused on it, trying to ground himself. "I'll be better in a few days. L said I can probably use my arm again by the weekend. It's not too bad." He glanced at Cleo before looking back at the moon. "I would drive you to Portland if you really wanted. You miss it?"

When Graves said her name, Cleo glanced back over to him, but it didn’t look as though he had any intention of finishing his sentence. She wrapped her arms around her bare legs, suddenly noticing that she was cold out in the woods in pajama shorts and a big shirt. “That’s good,” she said as she looked back at him, happy that magic would be able to help her friend. She rested her chin on her knees. “Yeah,” she confirmed with a small sigh. “A drive might be pretty long though.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Graves saw Cleo wrap her arms around herself and he realized she was cold. Without much difficulty, he pushed himself into a sitting position and untied the flannel from around his waist with his good hand. "Hey, here. Put this on," he held it out to her before turning back to the sky. His eyes fell on the mermaid on her leg and Graves quickly looked away. "Yeah," he nodded, in response to her earlier comment. "I can't wait to be out of this sling. And it would be a long drive, but who doesn't like a roadtrip?" He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them, looking at Cleo again. "Are you warm enough now?"

Cleo noticed the movement behind her, but didn’t turn around until he was holding his flannel out for her. She accepted it with a soft smile and pulled it on, noticing his glance at her leg, but choosing not to comment on it. “Do you like me enough to go on a roadtrip with me?” she teased, then pulled her shirt up a bit so that she could shove her knees into it. “Um, yeah. Are you?”

"Fuck no, Bancroft. I'd get sick of you after a day." Graves stuck his tongue out at Cleo and laughed lightly, making sure she knew he was teasing as well. When she tucked her knees into her shirt, his playful expression turned soft. He scrubbed his face with his hand, mumbling, "oh my gods." He shook his head. "Huh? Oh yeah, I run warm. I'm like a furnace. See?" He held out his arm to her.

“A day?” Cleo asked, somewhat incredulous as she laughed. She tilted her head at him when he rubbed his face, then rested her cheek on her knees. “What?” She scooted a bit closer to him and took his hand, then pressed it to her cheek. “Very warm. Why do boys run so hot?”

"Nah, I take it back. Maybe after a week." He smiled, then shook his head before burying his face in his knees. "You're adorable Bancroft," Graves' voice came out muffled. He didn't raise his head until she took his hand. His bashful expression was gone, replaced with a cocky grin. He arched an eyebrow. "I don't know about other boys, but I run hot because I am hot." He winked.

“Okay, a week I can work with.” She laughed, then bit her lip when he called her adorable. Cleo felt the heat in her cheeks begin to rise slightly, but didn’t drop his hand until after she turned her face and kissed his palm. “You’re the one who says things like ‘ma’am’ and gives me his sweater.” She exhaled a small laugh. “Let’s go with that. So can you be my good luck charm and my personal space heater?”

Graves was surprised when Cleo kissed his palm, the feel of her lips sending a shiver across his skin. It took everything he had to keep his expression neutral as she dropped his hand. He fidgeted with the cropped hem of his shirt. "I was raised in the south! 'Course I say 'ma'am'." He shook his head, exhaling. "I'll always offer you my sweater when you're cold, Bancroft." The way he said it, it sounded like a promise. He held his arm out and nodded his head with a laugh. "Yeah, I think I can do that. C'mere."

Cleo let her eyes drop to his midriff again and she balled her hands around the fabric of his sweater, letting the sleeves cover her hands. She smiled, looking back up at his face. "And that makes you adorable, Cameron." She hadn't expected him to offer her a hug, but she tried to scoot over when he held his arm out. With the way her legs were tucked into her shirt, she ended up flopping over next to him instead, and looked up at him, laughing. "Oh my gods." She wiggled her legs free and then sat up again, this time to lean against him. "This is amazing. I'm hijacking your heat."

Normally, Graves would’ve protested at being called ‘adorable’ but between the sight of Cleo wrapped in his too-large flannel and the glances she kept stealing at him as if he wouldn’t notice, he found that he didn’t really mind. When Cleo toppled over, he put his hand out to help her back up, laughing. He pulled her into his side and after a moment, rested his head on hers. “Take as much of it as you need, I’ve got warmth to spare.”

Cleo wiggled ever closer to Graves, resting her head back against his shoulder. She pulled her hands out from the sleeves finally and pressed one up his shirt, against his back, partially for the shock, but also to see if he was being serious about letting her take as much heat as she wanted. "What if I need it all?"

Graves jolted when Cleo pressed her icy hand against his back, his eyes wide. He never thought someone’s hands could get so cold. “Oh my gods! Bancroft!” He laughed, dodging to the side to escape the chill of her touch. He leaned a little too far to the right, and without his arm to steady himself, started to fall over. “Shit!” He twisted, tipping backwards with a laugh and pulling Cleo down into the grass with him. “How are you that cold?”

Cleo squeaked as she fell beside Graves, but laughed once she was on the ground. “Um, because I’m not wearing pants out in the middle of the woods? You should feel my legs right now, I sure can’t.” She sighed and rolled over to look at the sky again. “Speaking of, I know we haven’t been here long, but would you mind if we headed back to camp soon? Before I turn into a human icicle.”

"Shit, if your hands are that cold, I bet your legs are freezing. I can't have a Croftsicle on my hands." Graves slowly climbed to his feet and reached his hand out to help Cleo up. "C'mon, let's get you home before you're frozen solid. I can't carry you right now," he laughed and flashed her a grin.

Cleo laughed and pushed herself up, taking his hand once she was sitting, and not dropping it once she was standing. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you tried, honestly.” She smiled back at him and pulled him back the way they came, pulling out her phone to use the flashlight this time.

Graves followed Cleo down the path back to the cabins. “I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t think about tryin’.” He smiled, even though she couldn’t see that he had, and gave her hand a squeeze. “I promised L I wouldn’t do anythin’ that could make my shoulder worse though.” His foot caught on a tree root and he stumbled for a second but quickly righted himself.(edited)

“You dope,” Cleo chastised with a shake of her head, clearly amused. She squeezed his hand back when he almost fell, stopping so that she might be able to help him up. “Oh my gods. You’re gonna have L find me and kill me herself if you fall.” She slowed down a bit so that they could step over roots and branches more easily, eventually finding themselves back out on the path. Once back to her cabin, she kissed his knuckles before dropping his hand so that she could unlock and open the door. “Did you leave anything inside?”

"I'll be fine, I'm fine! L won't come hunt you down," Graves swallowed a laugh, being extra careful not to trip for the remainder of their walk. He bit his lip as Cleo kissed his knuckles, looking away, trying to hide the smile tugging at his the corner of his lips. He looked back at her as she opened the door. "Hmm, I can't remember what I had, other than my flannel."

Cleo tilted her head as she smiled at him and stepped inside. "Huh, that's funny. I don't remember you having a flannel at all."

He stepped inside, right behind her and caught her hand. A grin was plastered to his face. "Ma'am, am I, the son of the god of thieves, bein' robbed right now?"

Cleo turned to look at Graves, grinning mischievously. "Are you? That'd be such a shame."

Graves tugged on Cleo’s hand, pulling her closer. He raised an eyebrow. “That’d be a damn shame, considering that’s my favorite flannel.”

"Oh my gods," Cleo smiled up at Graves as she was pulled in. "You lost your favourite flannel? That's so sad."

“Heartbreakin', really.” He couldn’t stop smiling at her.

"Heartbreaking?" Cleo asked dramatically, touching her hand to her cheek as she gasped softly. "What will we ever do about this?"

"Heartbreakin'," Graves repeated, his expression mournful. He squeezed her hand then tilted his head. "Did you hear that? That, darlin', was the sound of my heart, just shatterin'. It's in a million pieces now." He looked at her with his best puppy dog eyes and sighed dramatically. "I don't know how I'll ever put it back together."

Cleo tried to keep up with the playful energy, but upon being called darlin’ and then immediately being flashed puppy dog eyes, she melted. “Oh my gods, Cameron, don’t look at me like that.” She laughed as she spoked, then stepped backwards, pulling him along by his hand toward her room. “I know about heartbreak, and if there’s anything that can put it back together, it’s ABBA.”

"Like what?! I don't know what you're talkin' about," he laughed, following Cleo as she pulled him into her room. Once inside, he dramatically sank to his knees, still clutching her hand. "Yes, please. I'm beggin' you, Bancroft. Put my heart back together before I just die."

“You know what I’m talking about,” Cleo scoffed. She shook her head at him, then laughed as he dropped down to his knees. “You, Cameron middle name Graves, are too much.” She laughed and pulled her hand free to grab her phone, then pulled up the ABBA radio, put it on shuffle, and pressed a hand to her chest as SOS began to play. She reached for him dramatically and then put a hand to her head as though feeling faint, acting out the lyrics.

"Alexander," he offered simply. Still on his knees, Graves looked up as Cleo put on some music. He ran his hand through his hair and smirked at her, "Cameron Alexander Graves. For future reference." When she began to sing, his expression morphed into one of delight and he burst into laughter, reaching for her just as dramatically.

“Okay,” Cleo answered. “Cameron Alexander Graves, you are too much.” She grabbed his cheeks. “So when you’re near me, darling can’t you hear me S.O.S” She laughed as she sang and then backed up. “Do you not know this song? Should I change it to another?”

Graves smiled and his nose crinkled as Cleo grabbed his face. He watched her act out the performance, his smile growing as she sang to him. "I've heard it? But I don't know the words. It's a crime, I know." He reached his hand out when she backed up to change the song, "Help me up?"

“You don’t know the words?” Cleo gasped dramatically and reached out to take his hand to help him up. “It is a crime!”

“I know this one!” Once he was on his feet, Graves dramatically clutched his heart and spun around Cleo, acting out the song as he sang. “I've been cheated by you since you know when.”

Cleo laughed at Graves's dramatization. "You should have stayed on your knees for this!" She picked up a hairbrush from her desk and sang into it as though it was a microphone.

"You prefer that?" He raised his eyebrows at her and sunk to his knees again with a smirk, still singing along. Cleo's makeshift microphone made him laugh and he stopped singing for a moment, smiling up at her.

Cleo laughed harder and touched her hand to his cheek as she sang. When the song was over, she smiled, then dropped down to her knees as well so that she could press a palm to his chest. “How’s the heart?”

"It's doin' a little better. Not quite repaired yet, though." Graves covered her hand with his own. "That thief really did a number on me, ma'am. A shame we'll never catch her."

Cleo tossed her hairbrush onto her bed and smiled at him, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Can I do anything to help?”

"Hmm..." He dropped Cleo's hand and stood, walking over to her desk chair. Before he sat down, he tapped the flannel draped along the back of the chair and raised an eyebrow at her. It was another one of his; he recognized it immediately but didn't say a word as he their eyes met. Graves sat down in the chair and spun to face Cleo. "Serenade me some more maybe?"

As Graves stood, Cleo pretended not to notice the fact that there was another stolen flannel on her chair. She got to her feet once he was sitting and grinned at him. As the next song began, she clasped her hands. “Ugh, okay, perfect timing. This is my favourite one.” She danced around the room at the intro to Voulez-Vous. She sang along to the song and eventually rested a hand on his shoulder to sing directly to him, taking a break only to laugh.

"Your favorite? Okay, okay." He listened to the song for a moment and realization dawned; she had the title of the song tattooed on her inner elbow, Graves had seen it a few times. He watched her dance and sing along with the song, unable to keep a smile off his face. When Cleo placed her hand on his shoulder, he bit his lip to stifle a laugh and shook his head lightly. "And you say I'm too much, Bancroft."

"You are too much!" She grinned widely at him. "But that doesn't mean that I am not also too much." Cleo pressed her hand into the side of Graves's neck and took a seat on his left leg. "It makes us a good pair, yeah?"

"I- yeah," Graves faltered at her touch. He tilted his chin upward slightly, the movement automatic. "Too much, " he inhaled as she sat down. He felt his cheeks get hot and gave Cleo a curious look. "Debatable," he hummed, wrapping his arm around her waist to make sure she didn't fall if he moved. "Who's askin'?"

Cleo tilted her head at him, pleased as he moved his arm around her. She ran her thumb over his jaw. "I just did, didn't you hear me?" she joked.

Graves closed his eyes, leaning into her touch for a moment. After Cleo's comment, he tried to come up with a clever retort, but found himself to flustered to say anything at all. Not wanting to ignore her completely, Graves made a sound in acknowledgement. He opened his eyes and stared at her in a daze, chin still tilted upward, feeling her fingers trace their way across his jaw.

Cleo was glad that the music was still playing, since the moment of silence between them was enough to make her stomach flip. She lifted her hand to rest in her lap instead and looked away from him, but didn't move. "What's your favourite ABBA song?"

When Cleo dropped her hand from his jaw, a small frown flashed across Graves' face, but as quick as it had appeared, it vanished. Since she made no move to get up, he kept his arm around her waist, reclining slightly in the chair. "Hmm...'Does Your Mother Know?' is a good one. But 'Waterloo' and 'Andante' are also great." He smiled at her. "I assume your favorites are the two inked on your arms?" His gaze drifted from her eyes, across her lips, and finally arrived at the words tattooed to her inner elbows.

Cleo looked back at him as he leaned back, and rested a hand on his chest with a small smile. "Those are all amazing songs. I think they're in my top five more often than not." She turned a bit to face him as she flipped her arms out to show them off, as though they were visible under the flannel she was wearing. "Sure are. It'd be kinda silly otherwise." She laughed.

"Did you doubt my taste in music?" Graves asked, willfully ignoring the accelerated pace of his heart. He silently prayed to the gods that Cleo couldn't feel it racing through his chest. He grinned, "I love that. I don't have any musical tattoos...yet."

"Not too much, but not knowing the words earlier knocked you down a peg." Cleo smiled as she shook her head. "Do you know what you'd get, and where?" She leaned against him and tilted her head, looking down at him as if surveying where she'd put a tattoo on his body.

He laughed at that and gave her a one-shoulder shrug. “I’m not sure, but...” Graves paused, shifting so Cleo could lean against him without pressing again his injured arm. He followed her gaze and smiled, continuing his train of thought. “Maybe you could help me decide.”

Cleo made sure not to put too much of her weight down into Graves, pushing some of the weight into where her toes met the ground. “Hm.” She pressed her lips together and ran her fingers along the collar of her shirt, running them from his collarbone to the nape of his neck. She met his eyes once more. “Both? What’s your favorite song? One you could never get sick of?”

Cleo’s fingers on his neck tickled and Graves tried not to squirm beneath her touch. He closed his eyes briefly, breathing in through his nose. When he opened them again, he met Cleo’s brown eyes with his hazel ones and smiled softly. “Both, why not? That’s your thing right?” Graves dropped his arm for a second, so that he could tap two fingers to the tattoos on her leg. Tapping turned into lightly tracing one of her tattoos and he quickly stopped himself, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. “My favorite song? Bancroft, gods.” He hooked his arm around her waist again, this time pulling her slightly closer, humming as he thought of a song. “Fuck, I dunno. Something by the Front Bottoms probably,” he paused, then mumbled. “Can’t think...um...maybe ‘Twin Sized Mattress’? Have you, um, heard of them?”

As she reached the nape of his neck, Cleo rested her arm on Graves’s shoulder and played with the hair at the back of his head idly, glancing down as he touched her leg. She bit her lip, smiling slightly when he started tracing over her tattoos, goosebumps prickling her arms as he did. She leaned into him as he pulled her closer, and tilted her head to scan his face. “I, uh, no, I don’t think so. Maybe if you played one of their songs?” She checked the front pocket of the flannel and pulled out her phone with the hand not playing with Graves’s hair. “What were they called?”

Graves relaxed, feeling Cleo run her fingers through his hair. Even though his hair was trimmed shorter in the back than on top, his waves were still long enough for her fingers to twine through. He smiled and bit his lip as Cleo tilted her head towards him. “The Front Bottoms, thought I’m not sure if you’ll like ‘em.”

Cleo turned on the song once she found it, and leaned against Graves as she listened, letting her hand travel further up the back of his head through his hair. She waited until the song was over to speak again, looking at him seriously. "They're not really my kind of music, but... they seem very you." She nodded. "I don't think I got all the lyrics, but it seems potent. You should get the words jaws theme song tattooed onto you."

He tipped his head back so Cleo didn’t have to reach very far to play with his hair. As the song played, Graves was hit with a wave of nostalgia. The song reminded him of summers back home, spent driving his friends around in his beat-up pickup truck: windows down, music blasting. The song ended and the weight of Cleo’s look dragged him out of his memory. “I love them, they make me think of summer.” Graves grinned, trying not to laugh. “I dunno about that phrase, but I’d let you give me a tiny shark tooth tattoo. Maybe. As for lyrics I’d want tattooed? I’ve always liked contribute to the chaos - what do you think?” He nudged her with his shoulder. “Put on ‘Peach’, you’ll like that one better.”

"I love things like that." She smiled, thinking about things that reminded her of home, of a certain feeling. "It's like how a smell can whip you straight back into a classroom when you were in third grade." Cleo grinned. "You'd let me give you a shark tooth tattoo? I'll absolutely hold you to that, you know. I think that phrase is pretty perfect for you, though," she said, still carding her fingers through his hair. She nodded and changed the song, slowly untangling herself from him so that she could sit up and press her hand to her hot cheek. "Gods," she exhaled the word. "This song is really cute."

“What smell takes you back to your third grade classroom?” Graves pressed his cheek to his shoulder, hiding his laughter. He turned back to face her. “Absolutely, yeah. I love that line. Honestly, Bancroft, I’d let you give me a few tattoos.” He nuzzled his head into her hand, enjoying the feeling of her fingers in his unruly hair. When she changed the song, he turned to watch her face, humming softly along. “Cute, yeah. I love that one. I don’t know if they have any other songs you’d like, though. What’s your favorite non-ABBA song?”

“Hush up, I was talking figuratively.” Cleo laughed, trying not to sound too embarrassed. “Like you know when you hear a song or smell something and it takes you right back to a specific moment and it’s just so... whatever.” She shook her head and then smiled at him again. “Good. Once you’re healed up, come to me and I can give you one. It’ll be hand-poked so make sure you want something small or are prepared for it to hurt a bit.” She squinted as she tried to think, though it seemed like all the songs she knew left her head the moment he asked. “At the moment? Do you know Tegan and Sara?”

"Hey, I knew what you were talkin' about! There's a lot of songs that do that for me." He nudged her again and smiled, reassuring her that he hadn't been making fun of her. As she talked about tattoos, Graves' eyes glinted with mischief. "Only one? Well, alright. I think I can handle one hand-poke. Haven't you seen how many tattoos I have?" He laughed, pausing for a moment to think of the artist Cleo had named. "I don't think so? Play me your favorite of their songs?" With a soft smile, he quietly added, "Please?"

Cleo pouted down at Graves but smiled at him after a moment. "Okay, tough guy, in that case, I'll give you ten." She pressed her lips together and flushed, ducking her face away from him as he asked for her to play the song. She played it and stood, shaking her head at him. "You asked for this song without knowing... but it's impossible not to dance to." She laughed and started swaying around, then started jumping around as the beat picked up, laughing as she spun and held out a hand to him.

Graves scrunched his nose and laughed. "Ten? I can handle it, bring it on." He grinned and flexed his bicep, as if that would prove just how tough he was. He bopped his head along to the first few notes of the song, standing to take Cleo's hand with a bright smile. They danced for a few minutes, Graves laughing as he tried to keep up with her. He lifted his arm to twirl Cleo and pulled her close to him just before the song ended. His cheeks flushed and he looked away, breathless from dancing.

Cleo laughed, dancing along with him as she sang a few parts of the song. She took a moment to catch her breath and then grinned up at him and pulled away. “So that’s walk, check, dramatic karaoke, check. Anything else on the agenda?”

“Nah, I think we just about covered it all.” Graves stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. “Sorry,” he mumbled, flashing Cleo a sheepish grin.

“How dare you yawn.” Cleo laughed, stifling her own yawn as she took a seat on her bed. “It’s cool, I’m getting tired too. Gods, what an exciting Saturday night. Karaoke and in bed before midnight.”

Graves yawned again, trying not to laugh. "Don't forget hiking and stargazing. Ma'am you've had too much excitement for one night. I should- um," he gestured vaguely in the direction of the door.

Cleo smiled and watched him from where she sat on her bed. “Yeah.” She bit her lip. “Is it, um, hard to sleep with your shoulder like that?”

Graves blinked, “Oh, um. Yeah, I‘m supposed to keep the sling on and try sleep on my back but it’s not...that easy.”

She pursed her lips. “Would it be easier if, like, someone slept with you to make sure you stayed on your back? I mean, maybe you’re just a back sleeper, but, I dunno, I was just... thinking, I guess.”

His ears pinked as Graves tried not to smile. “It...would definitely be easier. I usually, um, sleep on my side.” He raised an eyebrow, “Is that, like, are you asking me to stay?”

Cleo half-rolled her eyes but stopped herself because yes, that was indeed what she was asking him. “Not if you don’t want to. Just, like, if you wanted to.” She felt her face grow hot.

“Really?” Graves looked away, hiding his goofy smile. “Yeah, I want to. You sure that’s okay?” He glanced back up at her, grinning from ear to ear.

Cleo pulled her shirt collar up over her nose so that he couldn’t see her smile. “Um, yeah, so long as you don’t mind a twin-point-five,” she said, letting her shirt drop back down as she patted her bed. “And do you need to borrow some sort of toothbrush? Or a shirt to sleep in?”

“Nah, I don’t- I don’t mind at all. A toothbrush would be great.” Graves rubbed his eye, a wave of exhaustion settling in now that they were talking about sleep. “Um, I can just? Sleep in this, I guess.”

"Okay." Cleo nodded and stood. She walked through her door and motioned for him to follow, leading them to her bathroom. She squatted down to look below the sink and pulled out a pack of cheap toothbrushes, then handed him one. "Got these a while back. So handy when your friends need to stay over because they're too drunk." She glanced up at him. "Or just cause." She smiled a bit and picked up her own toothbrush so that she could brush her teeth.

He followed Cleo into the bathroom, accepting the toothbrush with a quiet, “Thanks.” Graves brushed his teeth in silence, standing shoulder to shoulder with Cleo. He met her eyes in the bathroom mirror and winked, smiling around the toothbrush.

As she brushed her teeth, Cleo tried not to think about Bring it On, and instead tried to think about dental hygiene. She exhaled a small laugh through her nose, then spit, rinsed, and raised her eyebrows at him as she continues to brush her teeth.

Graves raised his eyebrows in return, spit, rinsed, and continued to brush his teeth, trying all the while not to laugh.

Cleo spit again and snorted as she rinsed out her mouth, leaning against the sink as she descended into a fit of giggles.

Graves finished brushing his teeth, looking at Cleo as he rinsed his toothbrush. "What? Do I have toothpaste on my face?"

“No.” She laughed, not quite sure as to why she was laughing. “You were giving me a look.”

Graves squinted, smirking. "Was I? Maybe it was just my normal expression."

Cleo shook her head, still grinning, as she clipped her hair back. “Well I guess you just have a funny normal expression, then.” She splashed water on her face.

"Harsh, Bancroft," he laughed, running a hand through his hair and moving to lean against the doorframe.

After Cleo washed her face, she turned to Graves, flushed, and led him back to her room, where she took off his flannel and draped it over his other flannel on the back of her chair. She looked from her bed to him and tilted her head. “I guess you can sleep on the outside and I’ll weigh you down on your left side? So you can’t roll over.”

Graves eyed Cleo's desk chair, shaking his head. "Are you just collectin' my flannels? Is that the fee to be graced with your presence?" He eyed her bed. "Um, yeah. That works, I guess." He blushed.

Cleo exhaled a laugh and climbed into bed. “Fee for being graced with my presence. I like that, yeah, let’s call it that.” She patted the space beside her. “If you wanna just walk home and not have me wrapped around you like an anchor that cool too.”

"Oh, no. Please. No, I'm stayin'." Graves blinked a few times, feeling his contacts still in his eyes. He knew he was going to regret sleeping in them come morning, but right now, he couldn't give a damn. He adjusted the strap of his sling and got into bed, taking the spot beside Cleo a little hesitantly.

Cleo shifted over as he got into bed and leaned over to turn her lamp off. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness to adjust her position against him. She rested her head on his shoulder but didn’t immediately wrap around him. “Comfy?”

Graves blinked in the darkness, then stretched out his arm so Cleo could rest more comfortably on him. He took a deep breath, feeling his cheeks get hot. "Um, yeah. Yes. Are you?"

Cleo cuddled closer to him, shifting a bit so that she was more comfortable. She hummed, then rolled over, still against him, and wrapped both of her arms around his, hugging it to her chest. “Yeah.”

"Okay, good," he answered, his voice low. Graves smiled as Cleo wrapped herself around his arm and pulled her a tiny bit closer. "Thanks for letting me stay," he whispered.

Cleo pressed her cheek against his arm and hooked her foot around his ankle. “Thanks for being my body pillow space heater,” she whispered back.

Graves let his eyes drift closed. "Anytime, Bancroft," he mumbled, voice heavy with sleep now that his head was on a pillow.

#c: cleo #c: L #c: lgraves #c: cleograves #anytime

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andtails · 4 years

Text

A Prelude to Chaos Control - Chapter 9: Loss of Me

Click here to start from the beginning. You can also read this story on FanFiction.Net or Archive of Our Own.

*****

Sonic stared aimlessly at the ceiling fan above. He was unable to sleep, playing back the words he spoke to Knuckles as he tossed and turned in his sleeping bag.

“I don’t know if I could live with myself if somethin’ ever happened to him. Waiting for Tails to wake up in the hospital was bad enough...”

“Yeah Tails is young, but look at all he’s accomplished over the years. And besides, who am I to tell ‘im what he can and can’t do? I’d rather have him fight by my side than go off on his own or feel bad for himself at home.”

“Tails…” Sonic sighed as he pulled his arm closer to his face, staring into his wristwatch communicator.

“Five in the mornin’, huh?” Sonic’s eyes were heavy as he gently cleared his throat, careful not to wake the others in the living room. Turning over, he saw Knuckles fast asleep, snoring gently under his covers.

Stretching his body out on the floor, the blue hedgehog pulled himself out of the sleeping bag and crept over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of tap water.

“Ahhh…now that hits the spot.”

Sonic set his glass on the counter as he returned to the living room, stopping as he noticed the unoccupied sofa. The young kitsune was nowhere to be found.

“Hmmm…” Sonic picked up the blanket pushed against the end of the couch. “Whereja go, little buddy?” Setting it down, he scanned the dark living room before starting his search. After finding nobody in the restroom, he crept over to the bedroom, pushing the door slightly open as he peered through the small opening to see the two girls sleeping on their respective sides of the bed. Amy’s arm was hanging down from her side of the mattress, her hand gripping the Piko Piko Hammer leaning against the bedside table.

Chuckling lightly, the blue hedgehog gently shut the door.

“Well, where could he be?” He scratched his head as he listened to the sound of rain pouring over the small cabin.

“He couldn’t possibly be…”

The blue hedgehog tip-toed to the window, looking out at the shrine in the distance to reveal the orange kitsune studying the Master Emerald, an open canopy tent with small flood lights covering the mystical gem and the top level of the shrine.

“Isn’t it a bit early to be doin’ science stuff?” Scratching his forehead and rubbing his eyes, the hedgehog walked through the kitchen, grabbing his blue umbrella as he left the cabin.

I hope he’s doin’ okay…

*****

Making his way up the stone steps of the shrine, the hedgehog heard an angry yell near the top as a small object launched over the stairs, several yards above Sonic’s head. Acting upon instinct, the blue hedgehog leapt into action, jumping upward to catch the device with a gloved hand, his umbrella still gripped by the other.

“Gotcha!” Sonic landed near the base of the stairs, the umbrella panel bending inside out during the descent, rendering the mangled contraption all but useless to the now-wet hedgehog.

Sonic brought the thrown object closer to his face, the circular radar cool to the touch. Gripping the detector, he slowly made his ascent up the slippery stone steps.

All right Sonic…just play it cool. I’ll ask him what’s wrong, but I won’t pester him.

Sighing anxiously, the blue hedgehog took the final few steps up the shrine as he noticed the orange kitsune staring off into the distance facing away from the stairs, his arms leaning on the foldable table under the canopy tent.

“…Heya Tails.” The young fox turned around to find the soaked hedgehog and his decimated umbrella, the detector in the palm of his hands. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Ohh...something like that.” The orange fox scratched the back of his head. Sonic stepped closer to him, setting the device on the table.

“Ya dropped somethin’.” He pushed it closer to Miles, who gave the device a cold stare. “Mind tellin’ me what’s wrong?”

Tails sighed. “It’s just that the readings I’m getting from the Master Emerald are wildly inconsistent with the data from my prior tests, and I’m not sure what’s causing the discrepancy. Without determining the causal connection between the energy fluctuations, I won’t be able to develop adequate programming code.”

Sonic scratched his head. “Mind dumbin’ that down a bit?”

“In other words,” Tails replied, walking over to the Master Emerald, “I’m no closer to completing the detector than I was before.” He placed a palm against the mystical gem, staring at it with blank eyes.

“Hey lil’ bro,” Sonic walked over to the young kitsune, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sure you can get it workin’ eventually.”

Tails turned around as he looked up at the blue hedgehog, moisture forming in his eyes.

“…but…do you?”

“Huh?” Sonic peered into the distressed fox’s eyes, his downcast face eyeing the stone floor. “I don’t understand.”

“…I heard what you said, Sonic…when I was in the shower.” The orange kitsune balled his hands into tight fists as his arms began to shake. The blue hedgehog was frozen solid, unsure how to respond as the two stood in silence.

Tails gulped. “…Why do you keep me around?” A frown covered his face, his eyes unblinking.

“What d’ya mean?” Sonic slowly approached the young kitsune. “We’re best buds, brothers ‘n all but blood. There’s nothin’ keepin’ us apart!”

“Is that what you tell yourself to justify babysitting me all the time?” Tails furrowed his brow as he looked into the blue hedgehog’s confused face.

“Babysittin’? Who said anythin’ abou—”

“You did!” Tails voice grew angry, a small vein appearing near the top of his head. “You just keep me around so I don’t run off and do something stupid!”

“What?” Sonic stepped back, watching his normally docile, kindhearted little brother succumb to rage. “Now wait just a min—”

“Why, so you can tell me things will be alright when they aren’t? Tell me how useful I am when I mess up all the time? Guilt yourself into babysitting me when you should be fighting Eggman without distractions? Lie to give me a sense of purpose and belonging when I…” Tails sniffled as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “…when I just…don’t belong?”

“But…” Sonic was dumbstruck at Tails’ seemingly never-ending rant, bottled up emotions finally boiling over. “But I…don’t think those things…”

“Why? Any rational person would believe this. Or are you just playing dumb? Acting like the dumb, lovable hero as per usual?” The young kitsune walked in circles and waved his arms as he spoke, missing the pain in Sonic’s face.

“It isn’t true, tho—" Sonic began, only to be cut off once more.

“I’m done, Sonic!” Tails approached the table, grabbing the Chaos Emerald detector. “I’m done…”

“Tails…” Sonic stepped closer to the young kitsune, whose eyes shot up to meet his, the fox’s hand gripping the detector so tightly the glass casing began to crack.

“I said…” The fox raised his hand up in the air, his arm stretched back as far as it could go, the device still held between his fingers as he bent his knees. “I’M…DONE!” Tails swung his arm forward, letting go of the device.

The detector came hurling at Sonic’s face, the blue hedgehog too dumbstruck to dodge. Striking him across his cheek, the device fell to the stone surface below, shattering into small pieces.

Tails kept his throwing arm forward as he breathed heavily, anger still in his eyes. Sonic, meanwhile, was as still as a rock, a red bruise forming on the side of his muzzle, the blue hedgehog ignoring the physical pain, lost in his emotional turmoil.

After what felt like an eternity, Sonic took a knee, placing a gloved hand against his bruise, closing his eyes as his head pointed downward.

Reason slowly returned to Tails as he doused the flames in his eyes, his anger now replaced with an overwhelming feeling of sorrow and dread.

Did I…just hurt…?

“…Sonic?” Tails’ arms dropped to either side as he slowly approached the blue hedgehog, fumbling his steps as if a zombie walking through a deserted cityscape. Looking down at his older brother, he could see a small teardrop forming between his closed eyelids, an unmoving frown on his face. Tails looked at his palms, tears of his own welling up in his eyes as he tried to comprehend how his hands could have carried out such a deed.

“W…what have I done?” The orange kitsune turned around, no longer able to bear the sight of his injured brother.

“I don’t deserve…to be your sidekick anymore.”

Wiping his nose with his arm, he approached the stone steps as he began spinning his rotary namesakes, preparing to leave the injured blue hedgehog behind. As his feet left the ground, however, a gloved hand grabbed his arm, holding him in place a foot above the stone surface.

Tails looked back to find Sonic, a frown on his face as he kept his other hand against his cheek.

“No Tails…” Sonic stared intently into the kitsune’s eyes. “Please…don’t go.” His voice cracked as he made this plea, the orange fox slowly planting his feet back on the surface as his namesakes stopped spinning. Opening his eyes, Sonic approached the kitsune for a hug, an embrace which Miles didn’t reciprocate, too stunned to react.

“I’m…so sorry, Tails…” The young fox could feel the blue hedgehog’s tears rolling down his back as he struggled to comprehend.

“But…why, Sonic?” His fists balled up once more as the blue hedgehog broke down against him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who lost it just now.”

“Don’t you see, Tails?” Sonic sniffled through his shaky voice, keeping Tails in his embrace. “I’m putting all this pressure on you. I’m responsible.” The blue hedgehog gently pulled himself away, the young fox witnessing, with his own eyes, the rare sight of the world-renowned hero as an emotional wreck, black rings around his bloodshot eyes. The blue hedgehog turned away as more tears dripped down his muzzle.

“I don’t understand…” Tails looked away as well, holding one arm with the other. “Why…don’t you hate me?” The blue hedgehog stepped over to the Master Emerald, allowing himself to lean against the mystical gem. He pushed himself backward as he slipped to the ground, staring at his muddy shoes once he reached the floor.

“All this time, I’ve been encouragin’ ya to finish the detector. I never stopped to think how much pressure you were puttin’ on yourself.” He looked up at the orange fox once more. “And at Seaside City, I told you to stay out of the fight, not considerin’ your feelings.” He looked away, closing his eyes as a new bout of tears began to form beneath his eyelids. “And then you heard me talkin’ behind your back…sorry ya heard that.”

Tails approached the blue hedgehog, stepping around what remained of the destroyed Chaos Emerald detector, various pieces scattered across the stone ground.

“No…I don’t hate you, Tails. I could never hate you…” Sonic’s eyelids closed as he shivered, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Sonic...” The young fox watched as the blue hedgehog placed his face into his knees, his arms wrapped around them.

“Maybe I can treat it?” On his knees, Tails crawled over and carefully analyzed the side of his face. “Let me know if this hurts…” The orange kitsune gently poked the bruise with a gloved finger. Sonic winced, closing the eye closest to the welt as Tails turned to face the cabin. “I’ll go get some ice.” As the fox stood up, though, the hedgehog gently grabbed his namesakes.

“No, Tails…please…jus’ stay with me.” The hedgehog softly pulled the unsuspecting fox backward, Tails falling into Sonic’s lap, his fur still wet from the rain. The young kitsune allowed his heartrate to rest, taking a deep breath as his own fur began to moisten at the blue hedgehog’s touch.

“I’ll stay for as long as you need.”

The two sat quietly for a while. Only the sound of their breathing and the steady flow of rainwater falling over the tent could be heard. The duo watched as the clouds dissipated, and the morning sun began to peek over the horizon. Sonic stopped shivering as the close presence of his little brother provided a sense of tranquility.

After several minutes of mindlessly gazing at the view, the blue hedgehog broke the silence, gently speaking into Tails’ ear.

“Sometimes in life…we win…and we lose. It’s okay to lose from time to time.” Sonic chuckled to himself. “Funny how that’s comin’ from me, huh?”

“Yeah, a little.” Tails looked up at the blue hedgehog, his face no longer weary or stressed. In fact, if not for the bruise on his cheek, the slight puffiness of his eyes, and the dampness of his fur, he would have looked perfectly normal.

“If you can’t get the detector workin’, we’ll find another way to beat Eggman…we always do.” Sonic chuckled to himself once more. “And I want you there with me…not to be in the way, but to defeat Eggman together…like always.”

“…Like always?” Tails looked over at Sonic. “But what about when he kidnapped me and forced you to go Super Sonic? I was the reason we lost the Chaos Emeralds in the first place.”

“No, Tails.” Sonic placed his hands behind his head, gazing into the dimly lit horizon. “That was my call to make. I coulda saved ya without the Chaos Emeralds…I just…” The blue hedgehog’s voice cracked as he collected his thoughts. “…I just…didn’t wanna lose you...” Running a hand through his quills before returning it behind his head, he lightly chuckled. “So, really, I’m to blame here.”

“Sonic…” The blue hedgehog could hear his younger brother sniffling below, a fresh set of tears forming in the orange kitsune’s eyes.

“Hey little bro…” Sonic rustled Tails’ hair. “No need to cry…” As he said this, though, his voice cracked once more as a few small tears escaped his own eyes, falling over the young fox’s head. Feeling the tears splash near his sensitive ears, Tails turned to face his older brother once more.

“…Same for you…big brother…” The two gently laughed as the orange fox settled in, wrapping his namesakes around himself, using the blue hedgehog’s chest for both physical and emotional support.

“…Hey Sonic?”

“Yeah?”

Tails closed his eyes.

“I promise to never hit you again. I’d rather die than cause you pain.”

“…I know, little buddy.”

As the sun peeked over the horizon, the two brothers slept peacefully against the Master Emerald, the rays drying their fur and tears as they forgot about their worries.

*****

The rising sun warmed the green hills, silent forest, and azure lake surrounding a secluded, peaceful cottage, the rays slowly evaporating the water from last night’s thunderstorm. This didn’t stop Cream the Rabbit and Cheese the Chao from performing their daily ritual of morning tea at the backyard picnic table, though, even if the young bunny had to dry the table to ensure she didn’t get wet.

Sporting an orange dress and a blue neck bow, Cream poured nothing out of her toy tea kettle, her gloved hand firmly clasping the pot as she meticulously filled the two teacups without spilling.

“Here you go, Cheese!” Cream pushed the tiny teacup to the blue chao sitting on the table next to her.

“Chao, chao!” Inseparable from the young bunny, Cheese had yellow, stubby hands and feet, a small yellow sphere floating over his dumpling-shaped head, small purple wings, and a red bowtie. Playing along, the chao picked up his cup with both hands, lacking the fingers necessary to use the handle as he poured the make-believe substance down his throat. Setting the cup down between his lap, he smiled at the young rabbit.

Taking a sip of her own, Cream looked up at the blue sky, breathing in the fresh, crisp air, a hint of moisture still present from the storm.

“Sure is a lovely day, isn’t it, Cheese?” The blue chao nodded approvingly, taking another sip as they studied the cloudless sky.

The young bunny turned around as she heard the sound of her mother’s footsteps against the wood porch connecting the cottage to the backyard.

“Good morning, Cream,” Vanilla said, gently waiving at her daughter from the topmost stair of the patio. Like Cream, Vanilla sported long, flappy ears and brown eyes, but unlike the younger bunny, she had a tuft of brown hair between her ears. She wore a purple dress below a burgundy vest, a blue neck bow and white gloves completing her outfit. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Okay, momma.” Cream smiled back at her mother as the elder rabbit stepped through the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen.

“We should finish our tea, Cheese.” Cream tipped her cup toward her lips as she drained the last of the invisible substance. Leaving the tea set on the picnic table, the bunny climbed up the patio and entered the cottage, Cheese flying beside her.

The young bunny took her seat at the kitchen table, eyeing the large stack of chocolate chip pancakes waiting for her. The bunny grabbed a bottle of maple syrup and generously poured it over her breakfast, the sugary liquid covering nearly the entire top cake as the substance ran down the sides.

Taking a swig of freshly squeezed orange juice, Cream grabbed her utensils and began eating while maintaining proper breakfast table etiquette, just as her mother taught her. Sitting next to his owner on the table, Cheese nibbled at shreds of coconut in his bowl, smiling happily as the inseparable duo enjoyed their breakfast.

Vanilla sat at the opposite side of the table, taking a sip of coffee. “After we clean up, I need to run some errands. Don’t stray too far from the house, okay?”

“All right, momma.” She gave Vanilla a brief smile before returning to her breakfast, eating a banana before returning to her stack of pancakes.

“And if you encounter any danger, remember what Sonic taught you.” Vanilla was referring to the periodic combat training Cream received from the blue hedgehog, who taught her how to implement a spin attack, where she could roll into a ball and deal damage to opponents or travel downhill at great speed.

Vanilla took another sip of her hot beverage as her daughter nodded in agreement, placing the last forkful of syrupy pancakes into her mouth.

As Cream finished off her juice, she gathered her dishes and placed them in the sink, brimming with hot, soapy water. Looking back at the breakfast table, Cream watched as Cheese attempted to lift his own empty bowl, flapping his wings as he struggled to carry the dish with his stubby arms.

“I can get it for you, Cheese.” Cream picked up the bowl and placed it in the sink.

“Chao, chao!” Cheese smiled approvingly as he flew around the kitchen. Meanwhile, Cream helped her mother wipe down the kitchen surfaces, making the room as spotless as it was before breakfast.

“All right Cream, I’m off to the store. I’ll only be gone a short while.” She bent her knees, allowing her daughter to give her a hug.

“Bye bye, momma.” Pulling herself from the embrace, Cream smiled as she watched her mother leave the cottage, walking down the dirt path leading to the nearby small town where she purchased her daily groceries.

“Wanna go play outside again, Cheese?” Cream looked up at the chao hovering in midair. He gave her a nod of approval as the two headed to the backyard.

“What should we do first, Cheese?” Cream looked up at her energetic chao, who, after a few seconds of twirling around, hovered in front of the small bunny, shrugging his shoulders.

“Hmmm…” Cream placed a gloved hand to her chin. “I know! How about we g—” Her thought was interrupted by the sound of a scurrying squirrel running down the side of the tree near the corner of the yard.

“Wonder what spooked the squirrel?” Cream approached the tree as Cheese followed close behind, a worried look on his face.

“No need to be afraid, Cheese.” Cream raised her arms toward the chao, holding Cheese to her chest as the determined rabbit investigated the cause of the squirrel’s fright. She peered up at the tall tree, green leaves covering its thick branches as small drops of water from last night’s storm occasionally dripped to the ground below.

“I don’t see anything. Maybe the squirrel got scared of nothing?” Shrugging her shoulders, the bunny turned around, preparing to plan her next activity with her chao when she caught a glimmering object in the corner of her eye.

“Hmmm?” She faced the tree once more and looked up, noticing a shining object wedged between the branches near the top of the tree.

“All right Cheese, I’m gonna need to set you down for a second.” The bunny placed the chao on the grass a few feet away from the tree before running her gloved hands along her long ears. She firmly planted her feet to the ground, bending her knees slightly as she prepared to retrieve the shining object. Finally, she leapt upward, floating in the air by flapped her ears. Looking up, Cream flapped with greater intensity, lifting herself higher as she approached the top of the tree.

The rabbit placed her feet on a branch directly below the shiny item, holding onto the upper branches with her hands to keep herself balanced. Tiptoeing along, she slowly approached the central trunk, pressing her body against the bark as she prepared to grab the object directly above. Raising a single hand in the air, Cream snagged the item, pulling it down to eye level.

“Wait…this is…a Chaos Emer—” Before she could finish her thought, she felt the branch directly below her beginning to crack under her weight.

“Uh oh.”

With gem in hand, she maneuvered herself as fast as she could to the tip of the branch, jumping as the large twig fell to the ground below. Using her ears, Cream slowed her own descent as she hovered down to the patch of grass where she left Cheese, the chao sighing in relief as his creased, worried face gave way to a bright smile.

“It’s okay, Cheese.” She smiled at the chao, rubbing her cheeks against Cheese’s face, tickling him before setting the chao back down.

“Look what I found.” She lowered the gray Chaos Emerald to Cheese’s face, the blue chao looking at it with curiosity in his eyes before rubbing the mystical gem with his stubby hands.

“We should tell Sonic!”

“Chao, chao!” Cheese enthusiastically agreed as Cream made her way back to the house, hoping to give the blue hedgehog a call.

As the bunny was about to open the sliding glass door, however, she heard a rumbling sound rapidly approaching. She turned around to witness a dozen Egg Pawns tearing through the brick hedge bordering the backyard. Behind these robots appeared Dr. Eggman, riding in his floating Egg Mobile, a birdcage-like structure dangling from his personal transport. Cheese hid behind Cream’s short legs, peering out from behind to capture a glimpse of the menacing madman.

“Wooahhooohoohooo! If it isn’t Cream the Rabbit! How are you doing on this splendid day?” The sarcasm dripped from his lips as he gave the young bunny a sinister smile.

“What do you want, Eggman? Can’t you just leave us alone?” Cream kept her hands behind her back, shielding the Chaos Emerald from Eggman’s view.

“I’m afraid not, my dear Cream.” Robotnik snickered as his small battalion of robots stepped closer to the wood patio. “My readings indicate you are harboring a Chaos Emerald. Is this true? I’d very much like to add it to my collection, you know.” His smile grew even wider, showing his white teeth as he eyed the frightened rabbit.

“W…what’re you talking about? I…I don’t have a…Chaos Emerald…” Cream looked away from the evil doctor.

“I’m afraid you’re just as bad at lying as you are at hiding things behind your back.” Cream’s face turned to shock as she dropped the Chaos Emerald. Looking forward, she saw the closest Egg Pawn stomping its way up the patio, splintering the wood as the group got closer to the little bunny.

“I’m warning you…to back off…” Cream kicked the mystical gem to the side and picked Cheese up from the ground. Once worried, Cheese now wore a stern look of determination, ready to join the young rabbit in vanquishing the entourage of mechanical slaves.

“Oh yeah? You and what army?” Eggman massaged his mustache as a group of Egg Pawns formed a semicircle around Cream and Cheese, the bunny’s back against the glass door.

“You asked for it.” Cream raised her arm back as Cheese rolled into a ball.

“Let’s get ‘em, Cheese!”

“Chao, chao!”

The determined rabbit threw her arm forward, launching the chao directly at the nearest robot. Cheese’s collision knocked the Egg Pawn back, static forming all around the machine as it fell to the patio floor, a chao-sized dent in its torso. Cheese ricocheted back to his owner, landing in Cream’s hand as she prepared to launch him again.

“Grrr…that silly rabbit. Doesn’t she realize tricks like that aren’t for kids?” Eggman turned his attention to his remaining solders, pointing at the young bunny.

“Egg Pawns: ATTAAAAACK!”

Cream threw her chao projectile once more. Cheese smashed one of the robots at an angle, bouncing off several more pawns like a pinball before returning to his master, leaving a trail of destruction behind.

A new wave of machines kicked the debris of their fallen comrades aside as they ran toward the young bunny. Unable to launch another attack in time, Cream rolled herself into a ball and performed a spindash through the wood railing of the patio, gripping Cheese tightly against her chest as she landed on her feet in the yard below, putting a small distance between themselves and the remaining forces.

The first robot to approach Cream in the yard wielded an Egg Gun, a cartoonish-looking weapon with a similar color scheme as its mechanical user. Cream cradled the blue chao, still catching her breath as sweat rolled down her brow.

The bunny lunged to the side as the mechanical soldier fired a laser blast. The beam hit the large tree in the corner of the yard, bark exploding everywhere upon impact.

As she dove, the young rabbit threw Cheese toward the Egg Pawn. The robot dropped its laser gun as it fell backward, sparks flying in all directions as the chao bounced back to his owner once more.

“I must say,” Eggman began, maneuvering his Egg Mobile closer to the heroic duo, “you two pack quite a punch…for a pair of small fries.” Itching his chin, Eggman gave them another menacing smile. “I’ll give you one last chance to surrender the Chaos Emerald to me. If you comply, I may spare myself the trouble of keeping you as my prisoner.”

“No way!” She balled her hands into fists as she leaned forward, fire in her eyes. She stepped closer to Eggman’s personal transport, Cheese floating alongside his determined master. “We won’t back down to a bully like you, Eggman!”

“Chao, chao!” As the rabbit placed her hands against her hips, so too did the blue chao, both eyeing the doctor with a level of determination and fearlessness well beyond their young years.

“Very well, I guess we have to do this the hard way, then.” Eggman snapped his fingers before two Egg Pawns grabbed the heroes from behind. “Although with you two in my care, it’ll make getting what I want much easier.” As Cream and Cheese unsuccessfully struggled to pull away from the Egg Pawns’ metallic grasps, Robotnik peered down at an unoccupied soldier, standing at the ready.

“You there!” Eggman pointed at the machine, the pawn instantly saluting the evil doctor. “Go fetch the Chaos Emerald so we can be on our way.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Huh?” The evil doctor set his sights on the motherly voice coming from the porch. Vanilla held the grey gem in her hand as she glared at Eggman from the damaged patio.

“How dare you, picking on a young girl and her pet chao!” She briskly walked across the porch, intending to chew him out up close.

“Egg Pawns, retrieve the Chaos Emerald from this rabbit by any means necessary!” Eggman yelled as he pointed toward Vanilla, the remaining five unoccupied, undamaged robots swarming the elder bunny.

“No momma! Don’t do it!” Cream and Cheese were hastily thrown into the birdcage dangling from the Egg Mobile, the two colliding with the metal bars on the opposite side, wincing at the resulting pain as they stood up in their new prison. “Run away! Please don’t get hurt!”

“Cream…” Vanilla watched as her daughter’s eyes filled with tears, the little bunny’s hands clasping the rusty bars of the cage as she begged her mother to flee. Vanilla turned her gaze up to Eggman, staring into his glasses-covered eyes with a menacing glare.

“No…I’m gonna protect Cream…at all costs!”

The Egg Pawns ascended the damaged patio, lunging directly toward the older bunny. Bending her knees, Vanilla dodged the diving pawn’s attack, chopping its back from behind as she spun around to meet her next opponent, her motherly instincts manifesting in a way which rivaled Robotnik’s forces. The mechanical soldier fell over, sparks encompassing the downed robot.

“…M…momma?” Cream was in shock, having never seen her mother so much as lift a fork in anger let alone take down an Eggman robot.

“Who’s next?” Vanilla bent her knees, pulling her arm forward as she extended and retracted her gloved fingers into her palm, beckoning her next challenger to approach the impromptu wooden ring. As if on cue, another Egg Pawn, this one wielding a lance, threw itself at the rabbit with brute force. Vanilla dodged, the robot’s spear shattering the door as the pawn fell on a long shard of glass, permanently putting it out of commission.

Without missing a beat, Vanilla punched another pawn in the face, causing its panel-like teeth to dim as the robotic soldier flew backward, tumbling down the dilapidated stairs.

“Grrr…you insolent rabbit! I’ve had enough of your tricks!” Robotnik flew his Egg Mobile upward, carrying his captors with him. “If you don’t throw me the Chaos Emerald, I’ll drop your precious daughter to the ground below.” Eggman laughed, his bellowing voice echoing into Vanilla’s large ears. “If she’s lucky, Cream may come out of it with merely a broken leg…or two.”

“Cream!” Vanilla jumped over the shattered wooden steps, landing in the grass as she helplessly watched Cream and Cheese from below.

“So what will it be?” Eggman massaged his mustache, grinning in satisfaction as he peered down at the distraught mother. “The Chaos Emerald for the safety of your daughter? Sounds like a reasonable trade if you ask me. Wooahhooohoohooo!”

Vanilla gripped the grey gem in her hand, her arm shaking as tears began to flow down her face. “Okay Eggman…you win…just don’t hurt her.”

“No way! Give me the emerald first!” Robotnik reached an arm down along the side of the Egg Mobile, a smirk growing on his face as he readied himself to catch the gem.

“…Okay…” She cleared her tears with her arm as she prepared to throw the emerald up to the evil doctor.

“No momma! Don’t do it! He’s tricking you!” Tears were falling from Cream’s muzzle as she shook the metal bars, hoping to persuade her mother to keep the gem, but it was too late; Vanilla threw the grey emerald upward, the gem whizzing past the birdcage before landing in Eggman’s gloved hand. Eyeing it intently, he gave a bellowing laugh as he turned the Egg Mobile around.

“Wait! You have the emerald, now give me back my daughter!”

“Oh, was that the agreement now?” Robotnik snickered. “All I said was that your daughter would be safe. I never mentioned anything about returning her!” Eggman’s laughter dissipated as his Egg Mobile zipped away, taking Cream and Cheese along for the ride. The remaining Egg Pawns followed them on foot, leaving Vanilla alone in the backyard battlefield.

The distraught mother collapsed to the ground, the wet grass staining her dress as tears flowed down her face. “Oh Cream…I’m so sorry…” She stared aimlessly at the ground, machine parts strewn about her as she replayed her daughter’s kidnapping over and over in her head, tears dripping from her muzzle and landing on her knees.

After what felt like forever, Vanilla stumbled to her feet, the physical and emotional toll from the fight and the loss of her daughter catching up to the weary rabbit as she stepped over the destroyed Egg Pawn blocking the back entrance of her cottage.

Making her way to the kitchen counter, Vanilla leaned forward as she struggled to pull a phone toward her, dialing a set of numbers before placing it to her ear.

“Hey Vanilla! How is it going?”

“Amy…please…help me…he…Eggman…took Cream…”

“…Please help...”

*****

Chapter 10 can be found here.

#Sonic Fan Fiction #Sonic the Hedgehog #Fan Fiction #Tails Fan Fiction #Tails the Fox #Miles Tails Prower #Fan #Fiction #Sonic X #Action #Adventure #Angst #Brotherly #Brotherhood

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xolotoofficial · 4 years

Text

Recorded in Advance

> “Alright, babe,” Marvus’ manager starts, making sure the bandages around his chest are well visible under his jacket, but not as visible as the layers of gold chains sitting on top. He smirks and pats him on the shoulders, eying the golden diamond-shaped studs in his ears. “You’re looking pitiful enough. Go out there and make me and your clown buddies proud.”

Marvus feels way better now that he’s had a couple of days to heal. If he was, oh, Jade, let’s say, it would probably take much longer for him to heal, but he slowly swaggers into the interview, feeling like a million but walking like he’s still injured, but healing. The stab wounds on his body were closed up at this point, and the scarring was already looking pretty minimal, but he looked like he was being held together by cotton and stitches under all the wrappings.

The day he woke up, he let them photograph his chest, and it was emblazoned across every magazine - a clown, martyred at his own show, bloody and pitiful, tore the fuck up and still devastatingly hot. Gore was barely a kink on Alternia.

The cerulean woman in her pencil skirt and killer heels splattered with warm blood sits with a notepad in her lap and a winning smile. She was a familiar site. They had done interviews before, and she was very efficient. “Are you ready? Do you remember all the questions and answers we’re going through today, Mr. Xoloto?”

He smiles and nods, feeling the cameras on him again. It’s familiar, and he can honestly say he missed it. “Yes, I remember. It’s a steel trap up here, even if it’s been knocked around a lil’ bit.”

She feigns concern and they both cackle with each other. She was easy to win over, as easy as anyone else, but at least she had fun with it.

“You’re such a messy bitch.” She croons, recrossing her legs, one set of eyes looking at her notes and the other staring into him with glee. “Alright, everyone shut up and start rolling!...” She herself smiles into the camera. “Hello and welcome to all of you at hive watching, this is Krayvt Terrox, of course. Today I’m joined by one of the most masterful jesters this side of Alternia in an exclusive interview. Known for the size of his crowds, the size of the bloodshed, and the size of him… well. Marvus Xoloto, it’s so good to have you here, and so soon after this grizzly attempt on your life.”

He smiles and nods lazily, moving very little. “Only by motherfuckin’ grace, sister. It’s great to be here, Kravyt.”

“Let’s start with the obvious - your attacker isn’t a stranger to the disciplinary system, and according to multiple sources, he’s been on the cull list for some time for abandoning his duties and past violence on trolls of higher blood. It’s rather stupid of him to brazenly walk on stage when common knowledge among us who actually use our pans that you like to keep a certain amount of attention and cameras on you. I have to ask, did you know Lanque Bombyx personally?”

Marvus shakes his head. “No. We had some mutual acquaintances once upon a time, but I didn’t know him, or about him, or get any warnin’s on his violent ass nature. We’ve attended some same parties, but other than that? Nada.”

“Oh, interesting. Let’s start with those acquaintances. Did you have any altercations or issues with those mutual acquaintances?”

He shakes his head again. “Oh, no. It’s funny, the only people we both knew seemed to either not want much to do with him, or just didn’t have nice things to say. I take care of my friends, ya know? And that includes listenin’ to em, so I did my best.”

“Of course, Marvus the Great wouldn’t be associating with such base criminals. I’m sure the people who lost him to the cull list were very disappointed.”

Marvus laughs. Thinking of Daraya being disappointed in Lanque’s crimes tickled him. “Can’t say fer sure since he came up so rarely, but I’m sure they were pretty g-d bummed.”

Kravyt’s eyes narrow and she leans in. “Now, about the parties? What’s the secret there?”

“Oh, god, ain’t no secret. They was jus’ meetin’ ups I was havin’ with some of my siblin’s. He was there at the same time, in my ass and all that. The only secret I might think was there was that he was followin’ me. Ain’t uncommon, but ain’t impressive on me.”

His interrorgator simply laughed, flipped a page in her paper. “Gosh, this is a funnier story than I expected. Here we all were, thinking he was some sort of hired hand or a wronged quad, but he’s really a jealous nobody. So, what happened that night? Why does Marvus Xoloto lose to an overly desperate fan like that? It’s not every day that someone attempts on a clown’s life, let alone escapes from the scene, and a Jade blood on top of that. A well-trained subjugglator would be expected to win that match up, easy.”

“Well, I ain’t subjug trained, I’m laughsassin trained. We more like a clown utility knife, less of a club to the face, ya dig?” One hand plays with a chain around his neck, the other hand waving away the last statement. “Not disparagin’ of course, I love the heavy hitters in my family, but I ain’t made to maintain that kinda rage all long term and shit. After a bumpin’ ass night of performin’, ya could guess that I was tired a-f. Ain’t help that on top of tired I was all cocky and shit - I’ve always been the type for spectacle, and I ain’t thought that through much at the time. I was jus’ tryin’ ta stop him, wound him all for-life-like, put on a show, and I got blood in my eyes for just a second and, well, I got the beatin’ I well up and deserved for bein’ a show-off, durin’ the fight and durin’ that long-ass slam session.”

Marvus takes a pause. He stops his fidgeting and his eyes cut to the ground. Clowns don’t show shame, but he does it regularly on global television. Even Kravyt, who knew what the questions and answers were ahead of time leans in while the camera does the same on his face.

“But I wanted to make my fans all happy, you know? Shit, they show was gettin’ ruined, and I wanted to give em another to make up for it... That was my b. If I knew he was such a criminal I woulda been more on toppa dat shit, but I ain’t sure it mattered much. Like I said, I’d been performin’ for a long time at that point - like, i-d-k, almost 3 hours?” He pauses though, stage whispering to the woman across from him. “And don’t tell nobody, but I mighta been a lil’ slack on my training. Gotta get that fixed now, don’t I?”

Kravyt nods in understanding, swinging her foot. “Thank you for that, Marvus. I’m sure that was difficult to talk about. Let’s move onto something a little less clinical - how are you feeling?”

Marvus beams for the camera. “Aww, thanks sis. I’m doin’ pretty okay. I should be all healed up sooner than later. Then I can get back to all that good” - and sometimes illegal, you know how it is - “work I’m motherfuckin’ known for.”

He winks through Kravyt and she blushes, but it wasn’t really for her. That one was for the cameras - the rebels he had been helping for the past two sweeps. The clubs he bought out. The performers he had been recruiting. He wasn’t out of the game, and he wanted them to know that.

“And what about the church? How are they feeling about all of this? What about your friends?”

Marvus nods sagely at her question. “Well, my family ain’t to happy. Last I heard they were makin’ their own moves about this. Somethin’ about uppin’ security every-motherfuckin-where, and they hired some kickass to the case? Wild a-f. I ain’t all involved or nothin’ cuz, ya know, I’m a motherfuckin’ loud mouth and alla dat, but they’ve been supportive of me. And as for friends...”

He smiles a little, face as neutral as usual. “Well, they’re goin’ a lil’ SHITHIVE. I get it though. Somethin’ terrible happened to one of their friends, all because of Lanque. He’s gettin’ all sorts of people hurt with these weird motherfuckin’ antics. Who knows who’s gonna be all in the path next? Can’t imagine how hurted his cloister must be - they be their own sorta family, and I kinda feel some kinship about that. I know most trolls ain’t gettin’ what clowns got, but I know, if I up and imagine, it would suck if I fucked up and got a sister of mine hurt, you know?”

And that one was for Lanque.

“How kind of you to empathize with the associates and friends of a criminal. But that almost sounds just as juicy as this -”

“None of that, sis. This is just me havin’ my own fun. I mean, the church got him covered - I get somethin’ of my own, I think. I just wish his family the best.”

“You really have a gilded heart, don’t you?”

“Aww, I don’t know about that…”

“And so humble.” She giggles. “One last question, then.” Kravyt nods and finishes her scrawling. “It’s really good to see that you’re alive and well. Is there anything else you’d like to tell the good people at home?” Marvus turns to the camera to his left and gives another best winning smile. “I’ll be going on a whole new tour in three nights from now to celebrate my good health! Tickets are available now, and locations are listed up on my website. While you’re there, if you’re feelin’ up to it and know anything at all about the location of my attacker, there’s a text form you can submit, only available to people who’re signed up to my Fanclub.”

“It was lovely to have you on tonight,” the smiley four-eyed woman chirps pleasantly, offering her hand. He leans forward with an exaggerated wince, reciprocating the action. She looks at him with her own over-acted pity. “Thank you again, Marvus.

“...aaaand cut it! Start shutting this down. Good job, Marvus. We’ll get these all edited up and it should be going up as soon as it’s done. A day or so. You were wonderful as usual - only took three takes to get all the footage we need.”

Marvus stands and stretches, clapping his hands together once. “Glad we could do this, f-r. Hey, don’t be a stranger, sis - maybe we’ll get to talk without me actin’ like I ain’t ever been stabbed before, lmaooo.”

She shrugs. “I suppose it might be good for ratings - people really are obsessed with you. Who knew that a person could capitalize on their powers like this? Like, shit, I don’t get it, but clearly huffing your voodoo-vibes or whatever is better than coke.”

#Word Count | 1861 #xxxtras! | unstreamed actions #drug ment //#injuries //#ask to tag //

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tender-blooming-devotions · 5 years

Text

Rescue (NeMi/How To Tame Your Quarter-Demon) (feat. protective best friend Dante)

((written when I was feeling sad about my occasional sex repulsion interfering with my social life. it’s a long story ldskfja;lskjf))

((under the cut!!))

With everyone around me being so open about everything, of course, it’s natural for me to feel as if I’m an issue. My godforsaken brain doesn’t work too well when it comes to having groups of people talking at once… so this situation that I put myself in is starting to overwhelm me as I take a step back, looking down at my hands instead of what everyone’s saying. It’s quite stupid, really, how much I want to run from the situation at hand… but I tell myself, this is worth it. This is what having friends is like. This is what having friends has always been like. No matter how much it may hurt sometimes, and despite how much I try to make it any other way, nothing ever changes, and I’m always put on the back burner to stew with all my thoughts. Not once have I felt genuinely wanted anywhere.

And that’s okay. Because why would anyone want me around for anything? I’m not exactly unique in many ways, there’s plenty of people that have the same interests as I do, and I’m inferior to all of them. It’s with this knowledge that I sneak away from the group. My stealth is… lacking, but they’re so distracted by each other that they don’t notice me slipping out the door and trudging away. And I don’t notice what time it is, or where exactly I am, or why exactly we came here in a group instead of by ourselves. Night is naturally when demons come out to play. Demons have been showing up and taking people hostage in this area quite often, though I assume that even demons have standards, and I don’t meet any of them, which also leads to the assumption that I won’t get attacked on the way back home.

… Yeah, that was a terrible assumption to make, considering the sharp pain that hits my head and the darkness that obscures my vision, demonic hissing the only sound I hear as I fall unconscious.

...

Opening my eyes is like a chore, but I use most of my energy to do so and look around at my surroundings. It… seems like I’m in Devil May Cry somehow, despite being across town from it before I was knocked unconscious. The familiar feeling of the leather couch, as well as all the swords and posters on the wall, assure me that I’m in a familiar place, but that doesn’t tell me why or… or how, for that matter. How the hell did I get here? Sure, I figure out that I was kidnapped by a demon of some sort, but that doesn’t tell me why I’m here. Shouldn’t I still be with that demon? I mean, nobody cares about me enough to save me this fast, right?

Wrong. Apparently, that’s wrong.

Friends surround me all at once. They all coo to me about how sorry they are for not noticing my absence until I was already taken, how they were all so worried when they saw my hat laying in the middle of the street on their way back home, how they called Dante as soon as they realized what had happened… It’s overwhelming, though I can’t say anything as they just get louder. I can feel a pressing ache in my head as they keep talking and talking without giving me a chance to say a word. Nero’s voice cutting through all of them makes me relax, an angel calling attention away from me for a moment. Well… a demon… a quarter-demon?

“Guys, back off, you’re overwhelming her. Let her rest for a while, okay? That demon didn’t leave her unharmed.” Authority drips from each one of Nero’s words as he makes his way to me, painkillers and a cup of water in his hands. And as soon as my friends back off, he holds out his hands, letting me take the painkillers and the water. “Figured ya would want somethin’ to help your head,” he explains to me. Hardly any time passes by before I stuff all of the painkillers into my mouth and swallow them with a swig of water, sighing to myself at the pulsing pain that I really wish would go away faster. “That demon got ya pretty good, y’know. You’re lucky we found ya when we did, or you’d be feelin’ a lot more pain than a l’il headache.”

Mesmerized by the look in his eyes, I don’t respond to him at first. But as soon as his icy blues look at me, I blink and end up muttering, “How did I get here?” His chuckle is like music to my ears, though I can tell he’s irritated by something. “I mean… I was snatched by some demon, but… I-I wasn’t expecting to be saved so… so fast.” The chuckle fades and he’s narrowing his eyes at me, which makes me really miss the chuckle. In fact, the disappointed sigh he gives is much worse.

“Cami, what the fuck were ya thinking? I told ya, don’t wander the streets alone, especially not at night, and what the fuck do ya do?” Volume raising, Nero’s eyes glare into mine, making me shrink away from him a bit as I let him scold me. “Ya said that friends were going with ya, and yet ya walked off all by your lonesome, of fucking course a demon’s gonna take advantage of that! You’re lucky it wasn’t a strong one, or else you might be worse off, layin’ in some ditch and bleedin’ out! God, I thought ya were smarter than this, and yet ya proved me wrong.” The words hit me. Hard. Like a harsh slap to the face. All my friends are behind him, watching in shock, though they all seem to agree with his words: what was I thinking?

Unanimous agreement on that question causes my brain to start racing despite the headache I have. Yeah, jesus, why am I so stupid? Why would I do that? Why would I go against what Nero told me? The tears that drip down my face don’t go unnoticed by Nero, but I don’t let him touch me as I stand up, wincing at the pain in my apparently injured leg. Instead of saying a word, I hobble off to Dante’s office and manage to startle him with my presence. “Whoa, hey there, what’re ya doin- wait, are ya cryin’? Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Dante’s out of his chair before I can blink and he’s pulling me into a hug. Since he’s like my brother, I don’t struggle against him as he pets my hair, knowing exactly how to calm me down since he’s known me for years. “Is it the pain? Or did someone say somethin’? Are ya scared of somethin’? What is it?”

“N-Nero,” I barely manage to choke out, and Dante’s pulling me closer, starting to purr for me as I tremble. “H-He… yelled at me. Called me s-stupid. He’s right.” A hiccup stops me in my tracks as I lose myself to the emotions in my mind. And Dante just pulls me to his chair and sits down, cradling me to his chest and purring as loud as he can. He knows the sound of his purring soothes me when I’m upset, even if that sounds a bit weird, so he purrs for me each time I come to him in tears.

“Kid, listen,” Dante clears his throat, “Nero’s… He’s not right. You’re not stupid, and you know that. If anythin’, he’s bein’ stupid. He has no right to say that to you-” A sharp, menacing growl comes from Dante’s chest, and all it takes is a glance up to see that Nero is standing in the doorway, a crestfallen look on his face as he observes what state I’m in. “Nero, kiddo, I think you should back off. You already upset her this bad,” Dante’s voice starts to slip into a more distorted and demonic tone, but Nero is determined.

“No, Dante,” Nero growls back, “I want… I want to fix it.” Despite starting as a growl, his voice fades into a quiet murmur as he moves, observing my tear-stained face while I watch him walk closer. “Cami, I… I-I shouldn’t have talked to ya like that. I was just… so, so scared that I would lose ya.” Words wobbling as he speaks, he takes another step despite Dante’s warning look. “You’re not stupid at all, in fact, you’re… you’re amazin’. I didn’t mean to go off on ya like that, I just… I don’t wanna lose ya.”

Those are the words that make me stand from Dante’s lap and shuffle over to Nero, more tears threatening to spill as I approach him. His eyes are filled with tears as well, which makes me reach out and wipe them away. “H-Hey, I’m supposed to be the one doin’ that,” he mumbles, though he leans into my touch, a soft purr coming from his chest. Now, sure, Dante’s purr soothes me, but Nero’s purr gives me such a sense of safety and security, I can’t help but nuzzle against it to hear it more and more. And so I do just that, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my face into his chest to hear more of his purrs. Since Nero is now comforting me, Dante relaxes, not growling anymore as he realizes that I’m safe with Nero. So Nero picks me up and carries me elsewhere, keeping me as close to him as possible as he walks back to his room.

Nero’s scent flows into my senses and I relax further into his hold. It always manages to comfort me, especially when he’s right there with me. Rearranging the blankets and pillows is quite a hassle considering he wouldn’t let me help him, but it’s eventually done and he pulls me right into the center of his so-called ‘comfort nest.’ Protests aren’t listened to as he wraps his wings around me and purrs. “N-Nero,” I whine, “what are you doing?”

“Makin’ it up to ya,” he responds, holding me closer.

“But… why? You were right… I’m not really-”

“Stop it. You’re perfect, I promise, and I… I love you.”

Any other words are stopped by his plump lips brushing against mine over, and over, and over again until all I can think about is Nero, Nero, Nero.

#self ship #self shipping #how to tame your quarter-demon #nero sparda #devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc5 #dmc nero #tw: insecurity

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hysterialevi · 5 years

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When the Devil Cries pt. 29

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

From Arthur’s POV

TWO DAYS LATER, AFTERNOON

BEAVER HOLLOW

Striding across the camp, I quickly paced in Eddie’s direction with my rifle danglin’ off my back as I pondered the best way to approach this robbery, letting out a quiet sigh.

This had to be one of the most reckless ideas Dutch ever had in my twenty years of knowin’ him, and if I was being honest, the thought of running away with Eddie was looking better and better by the minute.

Dutch meant everything to me, it was true. He, John, and Eddie were really the only ones left who I considered to be family -- and despite how much the first two might’ve annoyed me sometimes -- the last thing I wanted was to leave ‘em behind.

I mean, I would’ve been dead if it weren’t for Dutch comin’ to my rescue when I was just a boy. He saved me. Educated me. Gave me a new life. But now...part of me feared he was gonna be the reason I’d lose that life again, and...normally, I wouldn’t care. But with Eddie in my family now, I knew I couldn’t leave that boy alone. I couldn’t get killed.

It was just because of my goddamned loyalty and stupidity that I refused to desert the gang. It was my own conscience that was holdin’ me back, but I knew that if I wanted to keep myself and Eddie alive, we wouldn’t be able to stay here any longer. We would have to run the second we got the chance, and never look back.

Walkin’ up to Eddie, I found the pianist sitting on a wooden crate next to Jack as he helped the kid read a storybook, his finger steadily inching across the page while Jack slowly mouthed out the words.

“...and the wolf guarded the injured deer as his f-fearsome fangs quickly scared...the other beasts away.”

The pianist turned the page, encouraging him to continue. “Good. Go on.”

Jack tilted his head in a puzzled manner. “Wait, I’m confused. Why would a wolf protect a deer?”

Eddie smiled warmly at the kid and glanced in my direction, his eyes twinkling with an affectionate spark.

“Well, perhaps some wolves aren’t as bad as they appear.”

Following Eddie’s gaze, Jack suddenly noticed my presence and perked his head up in excitement, pointing to the book.

“Uncle Arthur!” He greeted. “I finished another chapter today!”

I stepped closer to them and knelt in front of Jack, praising the boy.

“That’s great, Jack. You’re learnin’ fast. How you like reading now?”

He thought for a second. “It’s still kind of hard, but it’s more fun now. D’you wanna read with us, Uncle Arthur?”

An apologetic sigh escaped me. “Ah, I’d love to...but I’m afraid I got a job do to at the moment. Same with Eddie.”

He lowered his head out of disappointment. “Oh, okay. Maybe next time?”

I nodded. “Maybe next time.”

“Great! I’ll make some necklaces for both of you. But right now, I have to find momma. Bye Uncle Eddie. Bye Uncle Arthur.”

Hopping off the crate, Jack grabbed his book and scurried off to Abigail who was sitting in her tent before excitedly callin’ for her attention, leaving me and Eddie alone.

The kid seemed to be doin’ okay despite all that was going on -- probably because John and Abigail were sheltering him from it -- and I had to admit, it was nice to see some form of innocence still wandering around the camp. Things had gotten too bloody and brutal in the outside world recently, that it warmed this old outlaw’s heart to be near someone like Jack.

I imagined it wouldn’t last for much longer though. I knew Marston shared Eddie’s ideas of leavin’ the gang -- and considering the direction Dutch was headin’ at the moment -- it wouldn’t have surprised me if he went through with those plans.

I just prayed John knew what he was doing. It was hard enough when the gang lost Lenny and Hosea, but if I had to watch a person as young as Jack fall at the hands o’ those monsters...

...I didn’t know how I’d deal with it.

Slowly standing up from the crate, Eddie took one last look at Jack before solemnly returning to reality and bringin’ his attention to me, his eyes filled with dread.

“...Is it time?” He asked, noticing the weapon on my back.

“...Yeah.” I replied, lettin’ out a discouraged breath.

Eddie nodded in understanding and picked up his own rifle, slinging the firearm around his shoulder.

“Then we should get going. Come on.”

Walkin’ side-by-side to our horses, the two of us hurriedly made our way outta camp before mounting up and galloping off into the woods, eager to get this robbery over with as we bolted past the trees.

“So,” Eddie started, ridin’ in front of me, “what do we know about this stagecoach?”

I scoffed. “Hardly anything. Only that it belongs to Leviticus Cornwall, and apparently, has somethin’ mighty valuable in it. He’s sent a whole lotta guards to keep it safe. Dunno what it is, though.”

The boy was quiet for a second. “...Leviticus Cornwall. I’ve heard Dutch mention that name before -- in a rather hostile tone, actually -- but I’ve never seen the man for myself. Who is he?”

I lightly snapped the reins. “He’s an oil man. Quite a big one, too. And Dutch...well, he’s got quite a history with him. We robbed one of his trains up near Branite Pass a couple o’ months ago, y’see. Robbed a stagecoach in Rhodes, too -- though that was more Uncle’s idea. And now, it looks like we’ll be hittin’ another one.”

Eddie quirked a brow. “And you think this is a good idea?”

I loosely shook my head. “No. Truth be told, I think it’s one of the worst ideas we’ve had in a while. You ask me, I think we should lie low. Rob folk that no one cares about. But we rob someone as big as Leviticus Cornwall, and I guarantee it’s gonna ruin us more than Blackwater did.”

The pianist seemed surprised at the thought. “You think?”

“Think about it,” I explained. “Back in Blackwater, we only had the law to worry about, and our bounty wasn’t nearly as big as it is now. But these days, we got every Pinkerton in America lookin’ for us, Cornwall’s funding them, and Atticus wants to burn our entire camp to the ground. There’s also the fact that Atticus already knows Dutch is in this area. The minute we hit this stagecoach...it’s gonna be like lightin’ a beacon in the dark. Everyone’s gonna know we’re here.”

Eddie rode across a bridge, his horse’s hooves clacking on the wooden surface. “And there’s no way to talk Dutch out of this?”

I sighed heavily. “Oh, I’ve tried. Believe me. But...my words always seem to fall on deaf ears with that man.”

The boy reluctantly agreed. “Yes...it seems Micah’s voice is the only one Dutch actually listens to nowadays. Why he listens to him is beyond me, but...anyways. Tell me, Arthur, have you...thought about what we discussed? About leaving the gang?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I still don’t like it, but the more Dutch loses his way, the more I’m startin’ to think it’s our only option. If we wanna stay alive, that is. I just don’t know where we’d even run off to.”

Eddie came up with an idea. “Maybe we could go back to England.”

“England?” I repeated. “You think life would be better for us there?”

“Well, there’d be more civilization, so it wouldn’t exactly be the ideal environment for you, but we’d be out of the country and overseas. It could give us a fresh start.”

I still wasn’t sure. “...I guess.”

Eddie instantly picked up on my tone. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I know this...isn’t an easy decision to make.”

“Well...if I’m being honest, at this point, I’d rather be in a safe place with you than riskin’ my neck for a Dutch I don’t even know anymore. I ain’t givin’ up on him just yet, but that old man is destroying himself, and everyone in the gang knows it. But...we can talk more about this later. Right now,” I picked up my pace, “let’s just rob us a coach, shall we?”

A WHILE LATER

SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE ANNESBURG

Crouching in the tall grass, Eddie and I waited silently beside the road as we used the shady trees to shield ourselves, keepin’ a close eye out for the stagecoach.

I didn’t know exactly how many men were gonna be guarding this damned thing, or what we were even gonna earn from this robbery, but I figured the best way to approach this would be an ambush.

After all, it was just me and Eddie against what would probably be a dozen guards. We didn’t have the luxury of attempting to stop them with intimidation. If even one of them decided to grow a backbone and shoot at us, both of us would be dead immediately. We’d probably just have to shoot them on sight.

I only hoped this would be worth all the trouble.

“...So,” Eddie whispered, “have any idea how we’re gonna rob this stagecoach?”

I adjusted my binoculars, stayin’ low in the bushes. “Well, there’s no way the two of us are gonna be able to fight that many men on our own. I’m thinkin’ we’ll have to kill them as soon as they show up. Take ‘em by surprise while their guard’s still down.”

A look of uncertainty spread across the pianist’s face. “Kill them in cold blood? Are you sure, Arthur?”

I put the binoculars down and looked at Eddie, giving him an apologetic expression.

“I know, but we don’t have a choice, Eddie. We gotta do it this way. Otherwise, neither of us is walkin’ outta here alive.”

Despite still showing signs of reluctance, the boy went along with my plan and got into position, pickin’ up his rifle from the ground as he began to wander away.

“...O-Okay. I understand. In that case, I’m gonna go the other side. That way, we can hit them from both directions.”

“Alright,” I agreed. “Remember, shoot them the minute you see my signal. I’ll flash some light your way to let you know when it’s time. Be careful.”

Eddie pulled his bandana up. “The same goes for you.”

Sneaking across the road like a little mouse, Eddie hurriedly made his way into the gatherin’ of trees on the other side and hid behind a thick trunk, peeking out every once in a while to see if anyone was coming.

Judging by the lack of fresh tracks in the dirt, I assumed that no stagecoaches had been through here just yet, and luckily for us, the roads in this area were pretty quiet.

Most of the people here were too busy blowin’ up the mines in Annesburg to spend much time wandering about, and considering the absence of any good meat in Roanoke Ridge, I doubted we’d run into any lone hunters out here either.

I mean, we’d already seen how sickly the animals in this region were. If anyone was gonna do some hunting, my guess was they’d probably travel further west or south. Only thing worth shooting up north was the people...and I already had a few faces in mind.

It was just gettin’ to them that’d be the tricky part.

Breakin’ my train of thought, the distant sound of men chattering and horses neighing reached my ears as I quickly exchanged looks with Eddie, the both of us makin’ ourselves scarce while we waited for the coach to roll into position.

From what I could see, it looked like there was about ten men protecting the vehicle including the drivers, and they were all armed to the teeth just like I expected.

Some of them were clearly Cornwall’s employees -- dressed head-to-toe in the itchiest lookin’ fabrics with flat-caps on top -- while the more conspicuous ones were most-likely Atticus’ boys.

So far, it didn’t seem like any of ‘em had noticed us just yet, and with the speed their coach was traveling at, I assumed that they was in quite a hurry. We’d have to hit them hard, and we’d have to hit them fast.

Now was our chance.

Pulling up my bandana, I cocked my rifle and eagerly waited for the precise moment to strike as the stagecoach approached us, its wheels shaking up and down on the bumpy road while the horses huffed heavily due to fatigue.

I wanted to make sure I had a completely clear shot of the driver just so the horses wouldn’t run off when we started firing, and I also wanted them to be far enough that the guards behind the vehicle wouldn’t be able to shoot back at us in time.

It was gonna be a tricky job to pull off, for sure, but if Dutch was right about this robbery, and the cargo was really worth the risk, then this money would be more than enough to keep us fed for a long time.

Then again though, there was always the chance...that it wouldn’t be.

Tiltin’ my rifle slightly, I reflected a bit of sunlight off the frame and flashed it in Eddie’s direction, silently signaling him to get to work.

Without even a moment’s notice, both the pianist and I instantly started firing into the crowd relentlessly and shot one bullet after another, causin’ the horses to rear in panic as their riders frantically glanced around in confusion before getting blasted in the head, their blood splattering all over the stagecoach’s walls.

“What the hell--?!” One of them shouted, only to receive a bullet in the chest from Eddie.

“Son of a bitch!” The driver yelled, practically flogging the horses as he fled the scene.

Before he could run off though, I immediately aimed my gun at him and fired an array of ammo in his direction, makin’ extra sure that he wouldn’t be able to ride away with all the cargo as he collapsed from the driver’s seat.

“Goddammit!” Another guard exclaimed, desperately tryin’ to pinpoint our location as they blindly rode around in circles. “Keep the coach safe! We’re bein’ robbed--!”

A bullet hit him in the shoulder, leading the man yelp in agony as he clutched his wound and toppled from his saddle, tumblin’ onto the dirt below.

“Where the fuck are they?!” The others called out, getting lost in the gun smoke.

Reloading his rifle, Eddie fell silent for a brief moment as I carried on the fight and gunned down any remaining guards, causing dirt to go flyin’ everywhere with the amount of bullets I was shooting and with how much the horses were trampling all over the chaotic scene.

“They gotta be around here somewh--”

Resuming his assault, Eddie instantly got back to work once his gun was ready and didn’t spare a single bullet as the two of us flattened the entire entourage with a storm of ammunition, turning the road into a newfound cemetery.

By this point, it didn’t look like there was anyone left. All the guards were lyin’ on the ground in puddles of their own blood along with bullet holes and hoofmarks in the dirt as the smoke finally began to clear out, allowin’ us to see things better.

Thankfully, the stagecoach appeared to be intact -- aside from the shattered windows -- and judging by the material of the door, I didn’t think it’d be too hard to break into...but we’d have to move fast.

If there was anyone in the surrounding areas, then it was highly-likely that they just heard the gunfire from all the commotion, and I had no doubts that the law would be here soon. This was our only opportunity.

Rushin’ outta our hiding spots, Eddie and I quickly put our weapons away as we stepped over the corpses, eager to see what was inside the stagecoach.

“You okay?” I asked the boy, lookin’ him over.

“Yeah,” he answered, slightly outta breath. “What about you?”

“I’m good. Search the bodies, will you? I’m gonna open the door and get whatever’s inside.”

Eddie nodded. “Alright, but try to hurry. Who knows how many people heard that?”

Flippin’ my rifle around, I slammed the butt against the lock a few times with a series of metallic bangs, eventually breaking the mechanism off as the door loosely swung open.

It was pretty dark on the inside and I couldn’t see much with the sun glarin’ in my face, but once I climbed through the tight door and squeezed into the small space, I realized it actually wasn’t dark at all...

...It was just empty.

“...The hell...?” I muttered under my breath, digging through the coach’s seats.

Contrary to the piles of lockboxes and chests and cash I was expecting, it didn’t even look like there was a speck of dust in this goddamned stagecoach. Only thing occupying the seats was shards of glass from the broken windows, and even then the vehicle still felt pretty empty.

Where was the cargo?

“Find anything yet?” Eddie questioned.

I took one last look under the seats, hittin’ my hand against the coach’s wall in frustration.

“There’s nothin’ here!”

The boy paused. “What--? Are you sure?”

“I checked everywhere,” I confirmed, circling around the stagecoach. “But...hang on. Maybe it’s in the back. In the meantime, you keep searchin’ the bodies. They might have some money on them.”

Taking my revolver out, I hastily fired a bullet at the box hangin’ off the coach’s rear and damn-near tore the lid off, only to find nothing but a few cans of food and some cigarettes inside.

“...This can’t be right...!” I whispered through gritted teeth. “Leviticus said he doubled the security for this damned thing. Well, what the hell were they protecting? There ain’t shit in here...!”

“Arthur!” Eddie suddenly called out, tearin’ my attention away from the loot. “One of them is still alive!”

Whipping around in bewilderment, I decided to leave the vehicle alone for now and stormed over to Eddie who had his foot planted on one of the guards’ chest, both of us towerin’ over him like a pair of hungry lions.

“He still breathing?” I asked.

Eddie shrugged, observing the man. “Barely. He’s slipping away quickly, but you should still have time to ask him anything you want.”

“Oh, this son-of-a-bitch will talk...”

Takin’ matters into my own hands, I crouched down and grabbed the man’s collar with an iron grip before hoisting him off the ground, causing him to start shaking.

“Where’s the money?!” I demanded.

The guard’s voice heightened with fear.

“W-What?! What money?”

My jaw clenched in annoyance. “The money y’all are protecting -- what else would I be talkin’ about?”

That didn’t seem to clarify things at all, and the other man only continued to whimper.

“...Look, th-there is no money...!”

I fell silent in response and came to a sudden stop, furrowing my brows in confusion as a pang of anxiety hit me.

“...What...?” I said. “What d’you mean there’s no money? What the hell was the point of sendin’ all these men if there ain’t nothing to protect? Answer me, goddammit!”

He coughed a few times, tryin’ to speak through the blood gathering in his mouth.

“You’re...you’re some of Dutch’s boys...ain’t you? That fella...he said you’d try to rob this coach, so Leviticus...d-delayed...the delivery. Decided to bring the shipment on a different one, and use this coach as bait...to lure you out...”

“Feller?” I pointed out. “What feller? You mean Atticus Rose?”

The guard weakly shook his head, clearly wishin’ he was dead already.

“No...not him. I mean...the fella from your gang...”

My blood turned ice-cold at that, and I could’ve sworn my brain stopped functioning for a second.

What the hell did he just say?

“...Our gang...?” I breathed out in disbelief. The guard nodded.

“Yeah...at least, I-I think he’s one of yours.”

I tightened my grip on his shirt, causin’ my knuckles to turn white.

“Who is he?! What’s his name? Say something!”

“I...I don’t know his name...!” The man stammered. “H-He never told us!”

“Well, what’s he look like?”

He frantically blurted out a description. “U-Um...blond! Long hair! Has a m-mustache! Wears a white hat, too! That’s all I know! I swear!”

Freezing with realization, Eddie’s expression turned into stone at that and he glanced down at me, his wild, green eyes widened with a sense of anger and betrayal.

“...Micah.”

Blankly starin’ at the ground in defeat, I mindlessly loosened my hold on the guard’s shirt and retreated into my own thoughts, suddenly realizing how obvious it had been all along.

I didn’t wanna believe what the man was saying, but...the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. It explained so much.

It explained why Micah was always tryin’ to stay on Dutch’s good side. Why he pushed anyone away who might’ve been smart enough to expose him, and why he never really seemed to care when someone in the gang was killed. It was ‘cause...it was all his fault. It was his doing.

He was the one who told Atticus about our plans to rob the bank in Saint Dennis. He was the reason Rodrick was able to corner us on the riverboat. He was responsible for the deaths of Hosea, Lenny, possibly Strauss, and the situation that the rest of us were in right now.

All our suffering, all our losses -- every goddamned struggle we had been through these past couple of months -- it was because of Micah.

And like the big brute I was, I had been too stupid to see it.

“Arthur?” Eddie said, bringin’ me outta my head.

Ignorin’ the boy, I dropped the dead guard onto the ground and hurriedly stormed over to my horse, wanting to get back to camp immediately.

“That bastard...” I cursed, climbin’ onto my saddle. “I’ll kill him with my own, two hands! C’mon! We gotta go tell Dutch! Who knows what other secrets that rat has spilled? If Atticus already knows we’re in this area, then there’s a good chance he knows our location, too.”

“W-Wait! Arthur!” Eddie exclaimed, forcing me to calm down for a minute. “Just hold on. How are we supposed to tell him this? It’s not like we have any proof, and we just killed our only witness.”

I sighed in a regretful tone, hangin’ my head low.

“I...I don’t know,” I admitted. “Hell, I don’t even know if Dutch’ll listen to me. But...maybe, just maybe he ain’t completely lost. If the old Dutch is still in there somewhere, I know he won’t be able to ignore this.”

Eddie mounted his own horse and joined me, trotting to my side.

“Then let’s hope he is. But we need to be prepared, Arthur. If Dutch doesn’t listen to you, o-or if things go wrong -- we need to run. Far away. No hesitation. Otherwise, we’re dead men.”

I nodded in agreement, finally comin’ to terms with the end that we had always been powerless to stop.

“...You’re right,” I replied, my voice softer than I expected. “You’re right. As much as I hate to say it, this whole thing...it’s over. ...We’ve spent our whole lives running, stealing, cheating, killing...but it’s done now. This world...it don’t want us no more. The age of gangs and outlaws...is passed.” I gave Eddie a grim expression. “...Our time’s up.”

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #eddie ryan #arthur morgan x male oc #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 story

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teamoliv-archive · 5 years

Text

Interlude: Picking Up the Pieces

Violet wasn’t sure how long she had stared at her uncle’s body at the modest funeral they had put together. Several grateful people in the kingdom had helped donate materials or money to give a proper burial one of the huntsmen who helped save people from the attack that was currently being blamed on cult that grew out of a White Fang splinter group. She hadn’t heard about Cobalt Ymir’s death until after it was all over. It had taken several weeks for things to return to what was as close to normal as they could be anymore.

“Do you think he would have been proud of us?”

“If he knew half of what we had to do to get here, I’d say so. Lapis stood nearby with what was left of their team. They were the only ones of the four present save for Lazuli who decided to stay for emotional support. Ivory didn’t dare show herself and he didn’t even want to think about Onyx right now. Everything about the end of that fight still haunted him. “He believed in us, even when we didn’t.”

Violet forces a smile and nods, wiping some tears away. “You’re right. What matters now is that we don’t forget that.” She turned around when she heard her name being called.

“Hey there, Sundrop, I hope I’m not interuptin’ anything. I need to talk with you for a bit, okay?”

“Sure. Hey, Dad, I don’t think you ever met my partner from Atlas. This is Lapis and his sister, Lazuli.”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“You guys need a minute?”

“Actually, you might want to stick around for this.” Shin explains, “We’re going to have to head back home soon.”

“We can’t go so soon!” Violet protests, The Dustwings aren’t really in good enough shape to help the city rebuild yet. They’re going to need huntsmen and huntresses out here.”

“You’re right, but I want to know if you noticed somethin’ about those safe houses. Notice how empty they are?”

“They look packed to me.” Lazuli notes, watching the throngs of injured and recently homeless crowding around the area. ”Violet’s right. There’s too many mouths and not enough help. We can’t just... not do something. Maybe you need to leave but we can’t. If we send a letter home I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“That’s exactly the problem. Tyrael Cheshire packed up his goons masqueradin’ as help and left already. He snuck his way back to Solitas and to be blunt, our families might be danger. The Dustwings will have help soon. That militia that saved Haven’s still around, I think.” Shin looked to Violet with a nod. “I spoke with your brother.”

“You found Robin!? What happened?” Violet caught her breath and cursed herself for having missed him again. “Where? What did he say?”

“That ‘Red Arena’ might be gone but it won’t be long before Cheshire just throws his money into a new project. Robin claims he’s going to target us soon. We need to get back to Mantle to make sure nothin’ happens to them.”

“Dad....” Violet shook her head, “Mom’s a huntress, too, I think the two of you can take care of yourselves. I- I can’t leave yet. The Dustwings need help and we’re here to do exactly that. Besides... we have some people who need us more than ever now. Lapis and I might have homes to go back to, but half of us don’t.”

Shin let out a sigh. “You know, he told me you’d say that. I guess I should accept you’re a big strong girl now. Here.” Shin holds out a scroll to her. “Hold onto this. We managed to get some replacements for everyone. It’s got a message for you, too.”

“What’s it say?” Lauzli says, peering over Violet’s shoulder.

Violet opened the scroll to an audio message. She recognized the voice instantly.

“Hey, Sis.

Sorry I didn’t catch you when I talked to Dad. Well, I guess I’m sorry about a lot of things. I know it won’t make anythin’ better but this is all I’ve got for now. You did a good job out there, you know? I’ve got some information on this scroll you’ll need to know. Jade didn’t work alone. He’s got friends- and if you stick around, you’ve gotta watch out for them, and don’t think his old paycheck’s going to forget what happened to his daughter, either. But, hey, you kids took down some pretty nasty people. So long as you stick together, you’ll do fine.

“I’m not gonna say you won’t ever see me again, but I’ve got my own things to take care of right now. In the meantime, keep bein’ who I couldn’t, and tell that tin can of a Lieutenant I said hello, would ya? We went to Atlas together.”

“I'm bad at showin’ it, but I love you, Violet. Make everyone proud.”

“Robin... I just finished crying...” She smiles and rubs her eyes gently.

“So you’re staying then?” Lapis asks after a few more moments. “We’ll need to find Reynard soon. I don’t really want to leave her or her crazy friend unattended.”

”I can go find them,” Lauzli replies, “I think you guys need to get a few other things straightened out. Don’t you both have people to say goodbye to still?”

______________

Ivory takes a deep breath, having gotten far away from the small gathering in the ruined square. She and Molly made it a point not to be seen by anyone. They were recognized by a lot of the populace in the district. She feared retaliation for Jade’s failure to protect them as promised. The news that he had been killed had not been kind of either of them, but Ivory felt a strange serenity in it. Though, she had her family and Onyx growing up. Jade Leroux was a lot of things to her- a mentor and master first and foremost but to Molly he was the closest thing to a father she likely had. She entered one of the ruined houses where they promised to meet. “Hey, how are you holding up?”

Molly sat in the middle of her ring weapon, letting it rest on the floorboards. “About as good as I can be. Honestly, I’m glad we’re both still alive but...” She balls her hands into fists and starts shaking.

“What are we going to do now? No one here’s going to give us anything. They have new real heroes now, right? They don’t want us. Even your stupid team is being talked about.”

“Yeah, well as far as fuck-ups go this could have been a lot worse.”

Ivory spins around and draws her ax immediately. “What are you doing here!?”

“I’m here to come clean, okay? I’m layin’ it all out on the table to let you figure out what to do next besides sit here and not know. Yes, I killed my uncle. I basically killed Jade, too. I’m not askin’ you to forgive me for either of those things and I ain’t here to gloat.”

“Then what!?” Molly darts up and spins around, standing with her wheel around her. “You’ve always hated us!”

“You’re right.” Robin says, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. “You want to know why? I want you to look at my little sister and then ask yourself, what if she wound up like you? How about you look at Darcie and her crazy parade and ask if you want to see each other in a place like that years from now?” He watches the two girls stare at him and then each other in awkward silence. “You’re wasted potential is what you are. I made my choice when I had a mind to do so. You were snatched away as kids. I ain’t blind. You two are damn near siblings to one another and as weird as it’s gonna sound comin’ from me, I’m glad for it. So I’m tellin’ you right now- you can either sit here and cry over what you lost like Lilac Cheshire did, or pick yourselves up and have your own fuckin’ lives for once.”

“And do what? We can’t just become huntresses just like that! What, do you think we’re just going to pick up our stuff show up with your sister and her friends and walk off into the sunset like some stupid fairy tail!?”

“Why not? S’what I’m doin’. Well, sort of. See, I’m plannin’ on makin’ Tyrael Cheshire’s life a livin’ hell and all his buddies with his creepy business partner at Ciar to boot; so I’m grabbin’ my old team together. We’re about to make some noise and make off with whatever we can in the process.”

Ivory trembles as she thought of Onyx, holding his bloody body in her arms. “We all fought together in the end.” She mutters to herself, “M-Maybe we can do it again.” She turns to Molly and holds out her hand.

“I’m not doing this without you, you know that. I promised I wouldn’t abandon you. You won’t be alone again.”

Molly didn’t say anything for the longest time. She heard Robin’s footsteps leave the building without even saying goodbye. “Sure, fine, just stalk off...” She says to herself before staring at Ivory. Her mind flashed a moment to that girl from the Arena.

‘I forgive you.’

“Fine.” Her reply was reluctant and slow, but maybe something good could come out of this. “You know... I always wanted to be a huntress as a little girl.”

“We can at least give a shot, right?”

_____________

“It is going to take a while to rebuild.” The elderly huntress says, having donned a new mask and walking the streets. The kingdom had already heard rumors of the elusive “Mother Marianne” sighted in Mistral- it was time to show that face again.

“Yeah.” Morado still hadn’t even begun to process everything he had learned about his fiance in recent weeks, let alone grieving. “We’re staying right here, though. Mistral’s not about to turn us over to Atlas needing us as much as they do. Besides, I should have been able to stop this. Lilac... If I had known maybe I could have done something more to help her.”

“Some would take you for a fool, but I believe we need more people like you in this world, Lieutenant. But if I may be so bold as to give you some sage advice, don’t dwell on who you couldn’t save. Look to see who you can. It will never get easier. I can promise you that.

“Every victim, every lost soul, every life lost still hurts me whenever I come across it. Having a heart is not a weakness, but do not let it turn into guilt. You have to be the one these people look up to now. You’re all they have left anymore.”

“Lieutenant!” “Marianne!”

Lapis and Violet rushed to their side, breathing heavily. They had been running back and forth looking for them. “There you are. We needed to talk to you.”

“Did something happen?”

“Well, sort of? Not yet. We’re going to be leaving soon. Lieutenant, if I could have permission to-”

“Granted.”

“That was... quick.”

“We’re grabbing Reynard and her crazy friend to try and set them back up. Hopefully in a way that won’t get anybody arrested or killed this time, but we need to get them out of the kingdom first- at least until things calm down some more.”

“Rather noble of you to give them a second chance.” The elderly huntress replies, “They will need good guidance to put themselves back together, let alone on the proper path.”

“Let’s just say we owe our team leader a favor. Before that collapse, he still tried to reach out to his sister even when she tried to blow us all to kingdom come. If he could believe in a second chance like that, we can.”

“Besides, there’s still whatever Robin left on this scroll. Something about another operation like Jade Leroux’s. Apparently he wasn’t alone.”

“If I may see that?” Marianne had a feeling she already knew what it was about. Jade’s sadistic other half was just as ruthless as he had been and perhaps even more twisted. “I would like to copy this. You will not need to worry about her.”

“I hope you don’t plan on keeping me out of the loop this time. If there’s something else going on, we’re staying to help.”

“It is a long story, I will have to tell you later. For the time being, children, do not worry about Darcie. I have an old score to settle with her. I worry that Leroux’s death will make her more unpredictable, though. It is best if you leave that to us. Go find your friends and get ready to go.”

______________

“We’re almost there.” Lauzli announced, leading Ivory and Molly out to a clearing outside the kingdom. It was surprisingly easy for them to leave with all the commotion. She stayed a small distance from the two, but kept feeling eyes on her.

“H-Hey. Kid.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for... you know... back during the fight. Not the ‘saving me’ part the... ‘I forgive you’ part.”

“I managed to figure out what your old boss was doing. How he was doing it. You guys didn’t realize did you?”

“We’re... still... processing that.” Ivory states, trying to ignore a suppressed angry look from Molly. The idea that their emotions were being directly toyed with through a semblance was a heart-wrenching thought, but a long time without it present felt strange. Things made a bit more sense with that context but she worried what that took away from her actual feelings. Where did any actual ideas or thoughts begin and Jade’s old influence end? Was that really a bad thing? She couldn’t imagine Molly wasn’t going through a similar internal crisis.

Lapis was standing firmly next to a large rock, his gear ready to go already. “You all set? I know a few nearby villages that know my face. We can get you some work and get your feet wet. You sure this is what you want to do?”

“What else do we have anymore?” Molly admits, her tone more flat than it used to be, “You sure you’re okay having two people who tried to kill you follow you around?”

“Oh, I’m not worried, we put our best in charge right beside yours truly.”

Ivory frowns, unable to really bring herself to reach for her ax like she used to. “It’s not going to be the same without him.”

“No one said it has to be.” Violet keeps walking through the trees to another figure waiting nearby.

“I did say we put our best in charge.”

_____________

Tyrael Cheshire had been quieter than usual ever since returning to Atlas. He had been absorbed in work both regarding retrieving money from Jade Leroux’s failed operation as well as the troubling news of the deaths of both his children. The official record deviated from what actually happened, of course, but it affected him nonetheless. Today would be when that turned around.

“Sir, Auroras Hallward here to see you.”

“Auroras Hallward of Blood Brothers LLC at your service, Mr. Cheshire. We will offer you the absolute best in elite mercenary services! No job out of the question for the right price and-”

“Auroras...”

“Fine, fine. Take all the fun out of it. Really though, Tyrael it’s been nearly twenty years since you seriously contact us and it’s for a job? Cobalt has seen us more than you and he’s on a military schedule.” The man removed his hat and adjusted his glasses before setting a large stack of papers on Tyrael’s desk.

“I heard you both just came back from Mistral. How was that?”

“Cobalt is dead.”

“I’m sorry. Repeat that?”

“One of my investments tried to manipulate and double-cross me and got Cobalt’s family involved. He was killed for his efforts to remedy the situation himself.”

“So that’s why you called us, is it? Is this because you don’t want to mix business with pleasure for the sake of revenge or were you just being kind enough to allow the rest of your old academy compatriots to share in it? He was just as much Hari and I’s friend as he was yours, you know. But surely, you wouldn’t call us for simple revenge.”

“You’re correct. I have a list of people I will need you all to hunt down. First is Robin Goodfellow, the man who killed Cobalt and was, to my understanding, instrumental in helping Leroux’s operations fall apart. The next is a group of young huntsmen and huntresses that are responsible for my daughter’s death. Find and bring them to me, dead or alive. In the meantime you will be covering for Redmond while he reestablishes my presence in Mistral.”

“That’s quite a lot for us to do at once, you know. It won’t be cheap. Of course, if you had told Hari that we were after Cobalt’s murderer I’m sure he’d jump at the chance to do it regardless.”

“Not... that that’s an invitation to work for free. We do still have a business to run. You know how it is.”

“Where is Hari by the way? I specifically asked for both of you to show up.”

“Currently locked up, I’m afraid. With our workforce cut in half it’s been a bit difficult to keep up the money to-”

“Auroras, you charge millions. You simply haven’t given yourself the time.” Tyrael waves a hand and two large briefcases are placed one on top of the other at the side of the desk. Tyrael slides Auroras’s stack of blank papers aside and lets it open to reveal a large amount of lien. “Half of your payment down as per your usual.”

“This is... actually more than usual, Tyrael. You’re not about to add another job onto this are you? You know we don’t stack work.”

“The second one isn’t for you.” Tyrael replies, “That is to get Hari out of jail. Do that, then begin your work. You are to kill Robin Goodfellow, find what remains of my son’s old Atlas team and bring them to me, and make sure that Leroux’s associates do not swipe away what is still rightfully ours.”

#teamoliv #cutscene #Onyx Cheshire - Overheard Conversations #Lapis Hamelin - Overheard Conversations #Ivory Reynard - Overheard Conversations #Violet Goodfellow - Overheard Conversations #Molly Briar - Cutscene #Lazuli Hamelin - Cutscene #The Seeker - Overheard Conversatoins #Mother Marianne - Cutscene #Morado Amun - Cutscene #Tyrael Cheshire - Overheard Conversations #Auroras Hallward - Cutscene

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ofpineapplesanddawns · 2 years

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Here’s a little follow-up to the one-shot I wrote the other night where Peter came to Arthur’s bar, injured and in need of help.

Enjoy!

Warning: mentioned injuries

On with the fic!

Peter stood outside of the Avalon, the bar where Arthur worked. He peeked in through the window of one of the double doors, seeing that for nine at night, there were a decent amount of customers inside. Men and women who clearly came to Vegas more for the Rat Pack experience than the modern trash that Peter was used to.

He could see Arthur behind the bar with a younger woman, before he left and walked off to somewhere in the back.

Peter felt a lump in his throat, he hadn’t been back in a week, not really by his own choice, but he felt that he should come back and talk with the bartender a little. A thank you, an apology, maybe a drink? He didn’t know, fuck, he probably should have come here during the closing hour, the normal time, not when there were people around.

Still, he was here, and if people had a problem with that, fuck ‘em. He even wore some more normal, decent clothing. Not really something that actually fits the aesthetics of a bar that came from the fifties, but... Peter was in a dress shirt.

Yes, it was more his style, black, with prints of a slightly lighter black of crescent moons and bats, and there was a red string of gems on the collar to look like a bleeding bite wound. It was... it was his nicest shirt, shit, he probably should have sent an assistant to get him something less gothy and cool.

Whatever, fuck it, he looked hot as hell, no one could stop him except his own, stupid brain.

He stepped inside, a few people glanced over at him, but then went back to their drinks and conversations. He approached the bar, happy his seat was empty, and sat down. The woman behind the counter approached. “Good evening, sir.”

“Yeah, uh, hey, is... is Arthur here?” Peter wanted to slap himself.

She looked at him for a moment before giving a knowing nod. “Ah, you’re Mr. Vincent, aren’t you? Just a second, he’s grabbing some inventory.”

Peter nodded in return and let out the small breath he had been holding. He only had to wait a few minutes before Arthur returned, and Peter took notice he seemed to be walking with a cane. Shit, was he okay? No, it looked a bit old, like he used it for a while, did Arthur have a limp?

“I think we might need to put in for a new order, Aurora.” Arthur said, holding up a bottle of something. “This was the only one I could find le- oh! Peter!”

Arthur started at Peter in surprise, before he smiled a little. “Goodness, I wasn’t expecting to see you here, or at least before midnight. What are you doing here?”

“I... uhh...” Peter found that he didn’t know what to say. Arthur was smiling, but he looked a little worried, had he been worried? Well, a week ago, Peter collapsed on his floor, bleeding from a really nasty set of claw marks, so... that makes sense.

Plus, Peter fucked off for a week without a word, so there’s that too.

“Hey, I came to just say, ya know, thanks for sewin’ up my side, didn’t really want to lose a kidney or somethin’.” He tried to joke, scratching at his head. “But for real, you didn’t have to do that, could’ve just called an ambulance or whatever.”

“You asked me not to.”

“And I’m happy you did, cause my coworkers didn’t listen and I had to go to the hospital when the stitches tore.”

The bartender’s eyes widened. “Oh dear.”

“Yeeeaaahhh...” Peter felt embarrassed now. “Was doin’ rehearsals, and I moved wrong and suddenly my shirt’s wet and stuck to me. My costars are all freaking out and before I could say anything, someone’s called 911.”

Then he let out a nervous, laugh. “Good think I was just in sweats and a shirt, cause if I were in full costume, man, do you know how embarrassing that’d be? Though I’m sure the doctors have seen people dressed in much worse than leather pants and a jacket.”

Arthur was frowning. “But you’re alright, yes?”

“Oh yeah! Got stitched back up, everything is good, great. Achy, but I’ve had worse.”

Which was probably not the right thing to say.

“Surgical stuff.” Peter explained, but didn’t go into more detail. Arthur nodded, seeming to understand what he meant by that.

“As long as you’re alright.”

“Very. Sorry, it’s why I haven’t been in, had to take it easy, didn’t want to pop open the stitches a third time, so no runnin’ around after hours for me.”

Arthur looked at him funny, one day he’d have to explain to this guy he hunted vampires for real. But he’d only known Arthur for over a month, nearly two now, it was too early.

Then the bartender was smiling in that way that Peter knew was honest, not just for customer service. “Glad to hear you’re doing better, but do take it easy.”

“Y-yeah, I’ll try.” Peter felt a warmth in his chest. “So, uhh... whatcha wanna serve me tonight? A surprise?”

Arthur nodded, turning away to prepare something for Peter, who was screaming internally while he waited.

#arthur x peter vincent #john's drabbles #good omens extended universe

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xyveth-heartbane · 6 years

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Preparations

(( Mentions: @the-heartseeker and @valistiri. Been wanting to put this up for a while, just took a while to figure out how to go about writing it. Please enjoy the read. Cut is there just for length of story ))

It would be a little later in the morning. Xyveth would’ve just finished eating his breakfast as the sounds of the breeze reached his ears. A small smile would come to his face as he made his way to the top deck of the Siren’s Lament. The ship was fully repaired from his trip out to the Forbidding Sea, and it he couldn’t have been happier. As he looked out the sea, his mind began to race. The last time he had visited Silvermoon City, he had heard that the Horde had gone to seek allies from the Zandalari, and that the Alliance had ventured back to Jania’s home of Kul Tiras to seek their aid in the war that had sprung to life. ‘None o’ this shoulda ever happened...but I ‘pose e’eryones got their own opinion o’ it….’ he thought as he lifted his head up to the skies above the Siren, only to see two shapes in the distance flying towards his home. Within a few moments, a Gilnean raven would perch itself on the railing of the deck, and a Sin’dorei stood on a cloud just above the ship.

“Bout time ye two showed up.” The Captain replied, a grin quickly forming on his face as he pulled his flask from his belt and took a quick swig.

“Apologies Xyveth, but not all of us like waking up at the crack ass of dawn.” The other Sin’dorei spoke, allowing the cloud to fade as he landed on the deck before the Captain. Compared to the last time Xyveth had seen Shinlao, the monk looked a bit more worn out. His black hair was tied back into a rather messy ponytail, a brown headband was wrapped around his forehead, a simple rustic orange tunic adorned his chest, with bandages wrapped around his arms and sticking out from beneath the tunic. The rest of his armor was rather simple, though his gloves were stylized after Xuen, with what appeared to be claws jetting from the knuckles of the gloves themselves. He offered a hand out to the Captain and returned the smile. “It be good t’see ye Xy.” The monk spoke, glancing over his shoulder to the small bird.

“Aye, t’feelin’ is mutual old friend.” Xy replied, happily taking the hand offered and giving the monk a handshake, before turning his gaze to the Gilnean raven as well. “Avery, c’mon now, we got business t’discuss.” The Captain chuckled.

The raven squawked, only for it’s form to begin shifting into that of a human. Avery had also looked a bit more exhaused since last seen by the Captain. He wore a simple brown and green tunic, a single brown shoulderpad, blackish pants, and brown boots and gloves. His hair was tied into a smaller ponytail than both Xy’s and Shin’s, but his eyes made it look like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Apologies. While things have kind of eased up when it comes to the druid side of me life, things in Stormwind haven’t been t’calmest…” he replied, shaking his head.

“Aye, well thats why I called ye both here when I did. Let’s head down t’me quarters, and we can discuss why yer both here.” The Captain replied, turning to lead the men down to his quarters.

As the men entered the room, both Shin and Avery froze in the doorway, somewhat shocked by how tidy the Captain’s quarters were. Upon realizing they were both frozen in the doorway, the Captain turned to face them.

“What? Ye two are actin’ like ye seen a ghost o’ somethin’.” The Captain spoke, a brow raising as he looked at his crewmates.

“Just surprised t’see yer room this clean is all.” Avery replied, to which Shin nodded in agreement.

“Ah, well thats what happens when ye get into a relationship lad. Yer home is their home.” He replied, a small smile coming to his face as Ilyaeri’s face raced through his mind. Once Shinlao and Avery entered the room, Xyveth took a seat at his desk, pulling out a few maps. One of Kul Tiras, and one of Zandalar.

“As I’m sure yer both aware, new areas have been opened fer us.” The Captain spoke, gesturing to both maps, only for the other two to nod their head in agreement.

“Yeah, but how does this apply to our jobs here? It’s not like we can sail the Siren into Kul Tiras, or sail it in to Zandalar.” Avery replied, only for the Captain to chuckle lightly.

“Yer right lad, Neither one o’ those be feasible options. However, while we can’t take t’Siren out that way, we can still venture out that way ourselves. Avery, I wanted you t’head out to Kul Tiras and get a lay o’ t’ land, see if there is anything we could use as resources out that way, and Shin, I wanted ye t’do t’same out in Zandalar. I know I’ve said I wanted t’stay outta t’ conflict as much as possible, but we can’t pass up this opportunity.” The Captain responded, lifting his gaze back to his crewmates once more.

“What about you? If Avery’s heading to Kul Tiras, and I’m heading to Zandalar, what are you gonna do?” Shinlao asked, only for Avery to nod in agreement to the question.

“I have matters I need t’take care of around this way ‘fore I make me way out that way. I want ye two t’get whatever information ye can, and report back t’me wit’ letters.” The Captain explained, only for Avery to blink.

“What about the war? If Shin and I go out that way, we’re likely to have to assist with the war effort.” Avery asked.

“I was wonderin’ ‘bout that me’self fer t’longest time. I got allies on both sides, and clearly ye both got friends that ye don’t want injured either, but yer right, ye both will have t’ get involved. I got a list written up fer each o’ ye. Allies o’ mine, and friends and family o’ each o’ yers that if either o’ ye should come across, they are not t’be killed. Injury so ye don’t get in trouble with yer commander out that way, yes, but nothin’ lethal. Do i make me’self clear?” The Captain asked, only for both men to nod in agreement.

“Good.” Xyveth continued, opening a drawer of his desk and pulling out a list for each of them, both with various names on them. “Shin, I know you and Valistiri have been spendin’ a lot o’ time together recently, and she’s been wantin’ t’ join t’crew. On me orders, if she’s still serious about joinin’ she’s t’ join ye in yer mission.” Xy explained, only for the monk to nod his head. Xy nodded once more, and opened another drawer of his desk, pulling out two small bottles. “When ye make it to where ye need t’be, use these t’ report back. T’bottles will teleport here wit’ yer letters, and we can use them t’keep conversations private.” He explained, rising to a stand from his desk.

Shin nodded once more and took the bottle in his hand. “I’ll be seeing you both soon.” He replied, pulling his hearthstone from his belt and vanishing, most likely returning to his home in Pandaria.

“Avery, somethin’ on yer mind?” Xyveth asked, bringing his gaze to the druid that still stood in his quarters.

“Just, promise me yer not gonna go anything stupid alright?” Avery asked, bringing his gaze to meet the elf.

“I promise. Trust me, this is somethin’ that needs t’get taken care of.” He reassured his friend, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Alright. Well, tell Ilyaeri I said hello, and I’ll write once I make it to Boralus.” Avery replied, offering Xy a smile before making his way from the Captain’s quarters and made his leave from the Siren’s Lament, leaving the Captain alone in his quarters.

Xyveth sat back down at his desk, opening another drawer, and pulling out what appeared to be a rather large file and laid it on the desk. As he opened it, everything he had compiled as information about the noble that placed the bounty on his head was within. He’d reach into his belt, and pull out the compass that matched the one he had given Ilyaeri, and smiled. “I’m doin’ this fer you, and fer t’crew…” the Captain spoke softly, returning his attention to the task at hand.

#Captain of the Siren's Lament #Plotting Revenge #bfa plotting

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the-mateus-minute · 6 years

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Proving Grounds Most Wanted?

Dear Readers,

Last week’s Proving Grounds matches were all very brutal, but only one fighter demonstrated a complete and utter lack of restraint. I am, of course, referring to Wyra’to Coeurlkin, who laid his opponent out by slamming his head against her helmet repeatedly. I thought it prudent to speak with the man, and his contrastingly lovely patron Leilani Amarant, before somebody tried to claim the bounty spoken of in yesterday’s interview.

C: Mr. Coeurlkin, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself? Where did you learn to fight with such... ferocity? W: I's th' chosen student a' Shaka Sandwalker, one'a th' elder members'a th' Fist'a Rhalgr itself. Master Shaka took me in an' put me through tough trainin' ta hone th' ferocity y'see before ya on th' sands. Master Shaka puts me through some'a th' toughest shite y'coulda ever imagined... S'why I's so confused when Is seein' folks gettin' upset over me buttin' some lass outta dis world! Y'gotta come at EVERY fight like it were life or death.

C: Most are unaccustomed to such an approach, especially to an organized competition. Others suspect you may have used aether to augment your power in the match, citing the strength of a helmet such as Hayle's, and how easily you bent it in on her. Would you care to respond to those accusations? W: When ye've been trainin' fer most'a th' day, every day, fer a LONG time, y'tend ta get a little bit tougher dan other folks... Even den, iffin' I's opened me Chakra, me body'd be glowin'. Now, what I's thinkin' is... Maybe th' issue ain' that I's cheatin', but more dat dese folks is weaker dan dey thought dey was. L: I think you could’ve shown some restraint, you promised me... that this was just to get recognised. We’ve certainly been recognised alright, now you’ve got half of Ul’dah baying for your blood and I can’t get no bastard work.

C: But your training doesn't change how well your bones would hold up to a metal helmet. It stands to reason you probably gave yourself a concussion pulling that little stunt, which is why you fell with nary a blow in your second match, but the fact that that is ALL that happened to your head is... suspect to say the least. Speaking of your second match, what compelled you to refuse treatment between bouts? W: Well, why d’ya think I's stuck me mask back on? I's lost so much blood outta me face, only thing keepin' me goin' was 'ow fuckin' angry I was! It ain' dat I's refused treatment, more y'had one woman doin' ten folkses jobs wit' three fighters already down an' injured... Dat an' me pride.

C: I see, so you're saying you chose to abstain from treatment to allow those more heavily wounded to get healed first? W: Not me intent, I's jus' wanted ta put on a show more dan anythin' else... Wanted dese folks ta recognise dat th' Fist ain' nothin' like dey ever been told bout. Look, I's worshippin' Rhalgr by fightin', folks is talkin' bout th' Grounds an' comin' ta watch. Everybody wins.

C: I see. [And you,] Miss Amarant, I am aware of who you represent from our previous conversations, but could you tell us a little about who you represent as a patron, for the record? L: Hmmm, I’m not even sure at this point... but I represent Rage of Rhalgr, we’re a small mercenary outfit hailing from Ul’dah, I hold the Warchief rank. Not that the title means anything now.

C: And you chose to participate in the Proving Grounds to make new connections and seek employment opportunities? [...] So, how do you feel about the fights so far, and Wyra'to's performance in them? L: Yes! We were hoping to recruit some fine men and women to help us clear out the Garlean scum, and take on odd jobs here and there, just to tide us over financially, y'know? Highly doubt my feminine wiles will now though love, can't even keep my gladiator in check. I mean, he won his first round, and despite myself being rather angry at the fucking actions he took, I can't say I didn't warn people, I did say not to take him lightly.

C: [Yes], I remember you had a similar conversation with me. I daresay no one will take him lightly now though. Several of the other gladiators are itching to fight him, and one patron even went so far as to put a bounty on his hands. L: They'll get far more than they bargained for... but a bounty on his stupid thick head is the last thing we bleedin' well need.

C: Well, I think that's all of the questions I have for you, but is there anything you'd like to add before we conclude the interview? W: I's got somethin' ta add... Dat fella who's put th' bounty on me? Tell 'I'm dat I' s gonna break 'is spine nex' time I see 'im out an' about! Puttin' money on a man's 'ead is fer cowards! L: Yes! Despite this bleedin' idiot, we're a competent outfit, if you have a job that needs doing, you'll often find me in The Quicksand, come discuss a price.

Needless to say, this was an interesting interview, and while I can’t condone Wyra’to’s actions in the Proving Grounds, his patron seems a very competent, and respectable young lady. I hope that their mercenary group finds success, despite Wyra’to’s tactless approach.

--C. Blythe

@coeurlkin @sharlayan-noire @mateusprovinggrounds

#ffxiv #ffxiv rp #ffxiv roleplay #ffxiv mateus #mateus #mateus rp #mateus roleplay #mateusprovinggrounds #gladiator #Investigative Journalism #Investigative Reporting #the mateus minute

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braxarchives · 4 years

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The Four Loko Incident ― CANON. (current verse)

Max hasn’t been entirely honest with Brady about his feelings towards him. In order to gain the courage to tell him, he concocts a plan. NSFW.

It took Max all of a day after texting his twin about his self-pitying unrequited bullshit to put together a game plan in his head. When he woke up yesterday morning, he didn’t really plan on being in his feelings. But then Brady had to walk by him in one of Max’s t-shirts and smiled at him with his stupid bed-head and Max’s brain malfunctioned. Honestly, though. Maybe it was a long time coming. When Emmie had suggested he just talk to him… the thought was scary. But the alternative was scarier: letting this eat at him for even longer and ruining whatever chill he had left. And once Max had an idea in his head, he had to do it. Sleeping on things for too long wasn’t his strong suit. If he gave himself time to think things through, he’d chicken out. And that just wasn’t him. So naturally he’d thought about it. What was the least painful way to get everything out in the open and not feel the embarrassment of rejection later? And then it came to him: alcohol. “Hey, dude.” He said casually as he closed the door behind him to their apartment, cradling a bagged bottle in his hands. “You have plans tonight? ‘Cause I thought maybe we could hang out. I brought presents. Like — six different kinds of Four Loko.” He grinned and lifted the bag up some as though he could see through it. “Was thinking we could come up with our own drinking game or something.”

Brady looked up from the TV, where he was currently sprawled out on the couch watching Parks & Rec for probably the 10th time, when he heard Max come in. “Hey,” he replied, just beginning to curiously eye the bag in Max’s hands when he explained it. Brady grinned, pushing himself to sit up. “Four Loko,” he repeated. “You’re ridiculous.” But he couldn’t even act like he wasn’t excited. The idea of a drinking game definitely piqued his interest. “Yeah. Yeah, we can figure somethin’ out.” Brady paused the episode he was currently on so he could adequately focus on the conversation. “You wanna make it a video? We’ll just…try to cut it off before you get too hammered. Don’t want your fans seeing you get too sloppy,” he teased.

Max laughed and walked over to him to set the bag down near the couch, his gaze momentarily drifting to the TV before Brady paused it. Honestly, it was good he did pause. They’d end up getting distracted before doing anything at all. “If that’s not good enough we’ve got some Jack somewhere around here. But I don’t wanna kill us, we might lose at our own game.” He matched Brady’s tone right back and moved to sit next to him, shuffling the bag on the ground as he did so. “Oh yeah, wouldn’t want to be too on brand. Good thing I have you to protect our squeaky clean image, huh?” For once, he hadn’t even thought of doing a video. He guessed he shouldn’t stop now. Besides, as Brady said, they could cut it off when he got too messy. Nodding with a small hum, he rummaged through the bag to pull out a couple different flavors and set the cans in front of them. “Yeah! You’re a genius, man. ‘Cause I was thinking we could watch some of our old stuff. But make it fun, you know? That way you can take a shot every time I do something dumb, like I know you want to.” He teased. “And I can whenever you roll your eyes and quit. Perfect, right?” Except for the fact that it wouldn’t be actual shots, but whatever. They made their own rules. “How much time do you need to get ready?”

“Yeah. Save that for another time.” Whatever Max had on him now was likely more than enough. “Which is why this probably won’t be edited for a good two days, to make sure I got a totally clear head to start with.” Brady could only imagine going into it and missing important bits and pieces, ending up with something super messy up on Max’s channel for the world to see. And Brady certainly wasn’t down with that. “Hm, we might have to narrow that down a lil’ bit. Taking a drink every time you do something dumb might kill me in a little under an hour,” he teased as he turned the TV off. “Go get your laptop. Gimme like five minutes.” He headed into his room so he could change his shirt. He usually didn’t exactly care what he looked like in Max’s videos, since he was partial to being entirely authentic or whatever, but he was in an old sleep shirt that really didn’t do much for him. He changed into the first clean henley shirt he found, grabbed his camera and tripod, and returned to the living room to set up. “Let’s say you take a drink every time I make a comment from behind the camera, ‘cause there’s plenty of that. Down the rest of your drink every time I threaten to quit.” Brady set the camera on the tripod and started to set up the frame. “And I take a shot every time you lose your train of thought. Down it whenever you manage to injure yourself.”

“You’re so funny, save it for the video.” Max grinned to himself and stood, waving his roommate away as he did so. “Alright, go make yourself presentable, wouldn’t want to disappoint the Brady fangirls.” He teased, before wandering off to go grab his laptop from his room. He walked by Ratthew’s cage, wiggling his fingers in his direction before grabbing the laptop and power cord from his bed. By the time he came back to the living-room, powered up and pulled up YouTube, Brady was already joining him. He briefly glanced at him, taking note of the outfit change and willing himself not to be that guy who looked a little too long. Yikes, as though this wasn’t already going to be embarrassing enough. Turning back to the screen, he found himself huffing a small laugh as he opened a few different fan-made compilations, pausing each one before they had a chance to play. “Why don’t I just down my drink now and get it over with?” He joked lightly, but wasn’t really joking, as Brady set up the camera. “Sounds good, but we’re gonna end up going through all these cans in like five minutes. I pulled up our greatest hits.” He took two cans of Four Loko, one for him and one for Brady, and popped the top. “’Kay, dude, get your ass over here so we can do our intro. We’ll save the thumbnail for after.”

Brady obviously knew Max was joking about downing his drink right away, but he still replied, “’Cause that’d ruin all the fun.” He finished setting up the camera and pressed record. “Alright, then guess we’re gonna have to break out the jack eventually,” he said simply, going over to join Max where he sat. “I dunno if we’ll manage to pull ourselves together afterward.” He had to take the realistic approach, because he had a feeling a drunken thumbnail would be a hot mess and they’d end up redoing one when they were sober anyway. “But whatever, your channel.” Brady cleared his throat and put on his best ‘on camera’ look, which was far from perfected because he still wasn’t quite used to it. “Sup guys. Uh, welcome back to my channel. My name’s Max,” he placed a hand over his chest, then gestured toward Max, “and this is my super hot cameraman Brady who’s so kindly doing a video with me.” Brady grinned at him briefly before turning away, and then wondered for a moment if the joke about himself being hot would properly land. Not that Brady hadn’t publicly stated before that he and his best bro were equally attractive, but recently it felt just a little bit different to say out loud. And he also knew from experience that Max’s fans liked to take the tiniest little thing and turn it into something much bigger. But Brady wanted all of that to be on his own terms, not up to some randos on the internet. “What’re we doin’ today, real Max?” he asked as he opened the can Max had handed him.

Max sighed, more than a little dramatically, and shrugged his shoulders. “I mean I guess. And hey maybe not, but if we can get a steady pic it’ll be good enough.” The important thing was that Brady would be in it. He was a fan favorite, even if Brady didn’t seem to like the attention like Max did. He never fully understood why. But sometimes he just wished Brady would let people see who he was more. As Brady joined him, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow. Spot on impression. I think I’d introduce you as my super hot but rude as hell camera-man Brady, but you’re honestly close enough.” He leaned back into the couch and gave the camera a little wave. “Hey everybody it’s fake Brady slash real Max. Bringing you more quality content ‘cause we’ve got nothing better to do on a Friday night. So here we’ve got some Four Loko, and on my laptop here I’ve got several fan submitted compilations. And spoiler alert, we might actually end up dying today. ‘Cause we’re going to be playing a drinking game.” He looked away from the camera and grinned over at Brady. “Rules are simple. He takes one sip whenever I lose my train of thought.” He shoots him an annoyed look, although it’s mostly playful. “Which is obviously not that often. And then he’s gonna down it whenever I injure myself. Which might be a little often.” He admitted with a small shrug. “And I’ma sip whenever he comments behind camera. Then full on downing my drink when he threatens to quit on me. Oh, and it totally counts now, too, but if you abuse it I’m disqualifying you. So don’t quit three times in a row. Or I’m gonna get up and pretend to fall like fifteen times.” He tapped him on the arm, careful not to make him slosh, and reached out to grab his own can and pull the first tab on his laptop up. “And on that note. I’m gonna start. “Max & Brady’s worst moments - part 1.” He arched an eyebrow at Brady before he started it. “How many parts do you think there are?”

“Quality content is a loose term.” They both had to admit this was going to get real stupid, real fast. But that was them for you. Brady simply nodded along with Max’s explanation, because there was really nothing to add and maybe he was still a little camera shy. But whatever. All he really had to do was sit there and look pretty and Brady was good at that. “Alright, alright. I won’t quit unless it’s warranted,” he promised. Brady watched curiously as the video started and shrugged. “I dunno, man. Probably too many.” It started with Max’s older videos, clips stitched together with far too much yelling and general idiocy. And, predictably, Brady’s comments in response. He smirked as he looked over at Max after a particularly prominent ‘this might be your dumbest idea yet’ from behind the camera. “Drink up, bro.”

He couldn’t help the genuine smile from crossing his face at their old videos. The camera was way too shaky and their content was just a bunch of yelling and doing the first thing they could think of. But they were kind of his favorites. That was one of the most fun times of his life. “Aw, look at us. We were like 12.” It was more like three years ago, but close enough. At the comment that Max had honestly been expecting, he shook his head and grinned. “Ah – wait for it, though.” He held his hand up in the air, and shortly after he spoke, the on-screen Max tumbled to the ground and completely ate it. He lifted his own can up, and pointed at Brady with his other hand. “You better drink for that bruise I had on my face for like a month. It hurt to smile.” And with that, he lifted his drink to take a small sip. “Chug it, bro, I’m freaking waiting.”

It went like that, as predicted, and four cans between the two of them were gone way too quickly. And so was Brady. “The fuck even is this shit bro?” He studied the can, as it suddenly occurred to him he’d never actually had this shit before and didn’t realize it would hit him this hard. “That was too freakin’ fast to go through two of these at once. That’s like… that’s eight whole Lokos, dude.” Brady couldn’t help the laugh that erupted as soon as he said it, his hand coming up to grab Stevie’s shoulder for support. Once he caught his breath, Brady waved said hand in the air and placed the empty can down on the table. “Okay, okay. I think it’s time we wrap this up.”

Max wasn’t expecting it to go that fast, but maybe he should have stopped to think about it. Or come up with different rules. But it was too late… and he was definitely more tipsy than he’d intended to be. He just wanted to be a little gone, not like… this much. “Uhh it tastes like an alcoholic energy drink. Or somethin’. Like freakin’… party Monster.” He snorted at his own joke, setting his empty can on the table in front of them and slinking back into the couch just as Brady spoke. He and broke out into a laugh so big he could feel it vibrate through his chest. “Shut up, you’re dumb.” Yet he grinned at him and began to sit up, his hand dropping down to Brady’s leg to use the leverage to straighten himself. And even his almost-drunk mind was well aware of their proximity, and he wasn’t really sure if it was the alcohol or a laughing Brady that wasn’t making him think clearly. “Okay…okay. Yeah.” He gave a short laugh and lifted his hand from Brady’s leg, running it over his face as he shook his head. His heart leapt in his chest, because he knew why he was even here to begin with. But they’d been having fun. And now they were drunk and he didn’t know what to do. “Okay guys I think it’s safe to say we’re both losers here. That’s all the sign-off you get. I’m…kinda drunk. A little.” He looked to Brady. “But uh. Not that drunk.” He swallowed, not nearly as humorous as before, but not trying to alarm him by a sudden change in tone. “Hey dude? Can I be honest with you for a second?”

Max was a mess. That was all Brady could think as he watched him give a half-assed outro, just slightly slower than usual. But Brady himself was just as bad, ducking his head and damn near giggling through it. He did manage to look back up at the camera when Max said he was drunk to add, “Same.” And then Max looked at him and of course Brady’s focus shifted. It was a little weird, the sudden (but subtle) shift in the mood of the conversation, but not the kind of weird that made Brady want to run away before things got too serious. Although… maybe that had something to do with the crazy amount of alcoholic energy drink in his system, because he almost knew where this was going before it got there. And that was dumb, since he’d spent all this time pretending not to notice the way Max looked at him sometimes and also acting like it didn’t make a difference to him. He didn’t know when he realized he was attracted to him, but it was long enough ago that Brady had gotten really, really good at pretending. Max was too close to him, one of the most secure constants in his life, and Brady wasn’t gonna let his dumbass fuck that up. But Max was crossing the line so Brady didn’t have to. “Yeah,” was all Brady managed to say through the fog clouding his brain. He wanted to say as long as it’s not stupid, a last-ditch effort to run away from the inevitable. Instead, he swayed a bit in his seat and said, “Anything.”

Max wasn’t sure how Brady would respond to the change in subject, but when he didn’t seem phased, part of him was almost surprised. He didn’t think he’d want to listen right now. But then he agreed and gave him that look again; the one that made him feel like he wasn’t crazy after all. He didn’t always get it from him, but when he did, Stevie couldn’t help how it made him feel. Fucking Brady messing with his head like this when he was already mush-brained. The all-too familiar sensation of longing settled into his gut, and it was then that he gained his resolve. Now or never. He seemed so much closer now, and he had to fight to not lean over to him and go too far. “I didn’t — do this for the freaking video, Brady.” He struggled to make sense, and he ended up leaning in some regardless, tone lowering as though he were telling a secret. Because that’s what this felt like. Max’s shoulders slouched a little from the alcohol, and he shook his head so he could try to think clearly. “I wanna know. I want to know.” His words were spoken slowly as he corrected himself. He wanted to reach out and touch him, and he lifted his hand to do so, before choosing to settle it between them. Even in his state of mind right now he knew this was one hell of a delicate situation. “If I kissed you…” The words were so foreign to say around him, even if he’d thought about it before. But now he couldn’t take them back. His head swam with anxiousness, but he also felt a sense of pride at having done it. So he repeated it, making sure Brady heard him. “If I actually… really kissed you. Would you never talk to me again?”

Brady swallowed, noticing how unbelievably dry his throat was. “I don’t…” He didn’t what? Didn’t want to ruin their friendship by admitting he wanted to sleep with him? Didn’t want to fuck up something to good in his life? Didn’t want to make things awkward between them forever? He recognized that saying any of that was the surest and quickest way to make it happen, because the damage had been done. Max had said his part, had put himself out there and opened up the flood gates and now it was Brady’s turn to decide what to do with it. He was dizzy, mostly because he was drunk but also partly because he was moving, leaning forward with an arm over the back of the couch to steady himself so he could kiss him. He was all too aware of how drunk they both were, especially considering how clumsily his hands found Max’s face, and just… what the fuck. Brady didn’t know what to think, except that he technically hadn’t answered Max’s question. But he was hoping he got the picture.

Max hadn’t exactly expected the night to go like this. He expected Brady to pull away from him; to make up any and every excuse to not be around him. But he wasn’t doing any of that, and suddenly he was hyper-aware of everything. Feeling Brady’s arm slide around the back of the couch urged Max to lean in to close what distance was left between them. The moment his friend finally kissed him was surreal, and he couldn’t really think of much of anything other than how freaking soft his lips were and how nice his hands felt on his face even if they kind of bumped against him. Max’s hands didn’t feel so steady themselves, but he still used one to grab the fabric of that ridiculous Henley of his and tug him in closer. The other raised to cup Brady’s own jaw as he reciprocated the kiss; all caution gone now. He broke apart briefly, eyes shut, and he laughed quietly as he licked his bottom lip. His eyes opened only for his gaze to drop down to Brady’s mouth. “Really like that answer.” He said quietly, but sure as hell wasn’t going to say any more and ruin this. He brought himself closer, knee bumping against Brady’s as he pressed another kiss to his lips, hand cupping his jaw now sliding to the back of his neck to steady him.

Max closed the already very little distance between them even further and Brady suddenly felt a sense of urgency. Like he was reminded that this really was an okay thing to be doing, and fuck if he didn’t really, really want it. He pulled away and dragged his hands down to Max’s shoulders to urge him backwards, simultaneously trying to move on top of him, but he very quickly lost his balance and tumbled right into Max, pushing him much harder than intended onto his back on the couch. “Oops.” Brady couldn’t help but laugh just before pressing another kiss to his lips. Then he planted his hands to push himself back up slightly. He hesitated for a moment, feeling all sorts of dizzy as he looked down at Max, but he bit his lip and touched Max’s shirt, pulling the fabric just a little. “You…” He swallowed. “Tell me to stop if it’s—if you don’t want me to,” he said slowly, the slur in his words surprising even himself for a moment. Even when he could barely see straight, he knew better than to just assume where this was going simply because it was what he wanted. Brady bunched up the fabric in his hands to start to pull it off, knowing Max had an out if he wanted it, no questions asked.

Max was fully ready to lose all control and climb on top of Brady when his shoulders were being pushed backwards. Caught off guard, he hit the couch harder than perhaps he needed to. His head slamming on the cushion and back bouncing from the impact. Unable to help it, Max let out a large laugh, something that was quickly silenced by Brady’s lips on his. He smiled into the kiss, and almost deepened it when his friend broke apart. And the words honest to God made him pause for a second. If he wanted…him to stop. Wow. Really. “You’re. So.” Unbelievable. He let out a laugh of disbelief, although the comment was sweet. Max had wanted this for way too long. “More like if you wanna stop we can.” He murmured, and took a second to slide his hand up Brady’s back. He wasn’t sure what was going on. Max never thought that they’d actually get drunk, or do anything like this. He just wanted to tell him so Brady could once and for all reject him. But now that he wasn’t — he was going to fully embrace that and not question things for once. But if Brady wanted to stop, he’d stop.

Now though? Max was eagerly lifting himself up so they could both pull his shirt over his head. “Don’t wanna stop.” He reached out grab Brady’s shirt and bunched the bottom of the material in his hands, palms sliding up the skin of his torso as he tried to remove the material completely. And then Max was sitting up, despite kind of loving Brady being right on top of him. But he had more pressing business. Maybe a little sloppily, he met Brady’s lips once more and wrapped his arms around his waist, before slowly flipping their positions. Not thinking clearly, he barely processed the fact that they were both sliding off the couch and to the ground, the Four Loko cans scattered around them. But Max barely even paid attention. Now on top of Brady, he lifted himself up with his hands so he could look down at him. Holy crap Brady was really here doing this with him. Something at that moment clicked in him, and he grinned slowly. “Fuck you Brady. I hate your stupid clothes.” Max dipped his head for another slow kiss before dropping his head lower, finally allowing himself to trail kisses from his jawline to his neck as his hands trailed down to his waistline, thumbs stroking against his skin as he took his time. This was really happening.

Brady wanted to make some sort of comment, but not only could his brain not currently form one, he was a little preoccupied at the same time. He tossed Max’s shirt…fuckin’ somewhere, it didn’t matter, and only had a second to take it in before reacting to Max’s hand sliding up under his own. Brady yanked it over his head and it joined Max’s somewhere on the floor. Then Max quite literally dragged him onto the floor and Brady couldn’t even think to remind Max that he was, in fact, dumb. He did manage to roll his eyes, though, but grinned in spite of it and mumbled, “Then get rid of ‘em.” He shivered when Max’s hands paused right above the waistband of his sweats, his lips on his neck and sending Brady’s drunk ass into sensory overload. He groaned before his brain caught up to allow him to swallow the sound, but then… he didn’t give a fuck.

Brady’s hands came down to join Max’s, only to push them out of his way so he could hold onto Max’s hips instead. He gave him a generous tug to pull Max flush against him, pressing his fingers into his skin. If he was gonna be a smartass about not wanting to stop, then Brady wasn’t gonna let him be a tease. Only he wasn’t crazy about lying here on the floor, wedged between the couch and the table. He let out a shaky breath before managing to speak. “C’mon.” He started wiggling out from under Max, pushing him off so he could sit up. “Not on the floor.” He held onto the couch for leverage as he pulled himself to stand, laughing as he struggled to get his balance. God, they really were both a goddamn mess. As if Brady cared. He knew what he was doing. Max’s room was closest, so obviously it was where Brady went. He shut the door behind them even though literally no one was gonna be coming in, then turned and pulled Max by the hand until he could feel his bare skin against his own, bringing their lips together as he led them in the general direction of Max’s bed.

When Brady groaned, practically right in his ear, that did him in. “Want me to?” He drawled out in response and grinned against Brady’s neck, giving a playful nip to the skin before soothing it with his tongue. Max’s fingers dipped under the waistband of Brady’s sweats just slightly, only teasing, when Brady pushed his arms out of the way and pulled his hips forward. A groan broke from the back of Max’s own throat as they were pressed together. He was already half-hard from that stint on the couch, but now there was no hiding it. At that moment, his eyes met Brady’s, and he rolled his hips forward against his without skipping a beat. He wasn’t going to be shy; not when Brady finally wanted this too. Before he had time to do it again, Brady was urging him to stand up. And they both may have stumbled, but Max honestly had a one track mind right now. They made their way to his room, and out of instinct Max pulled the cover loosely over Ratthew’s cage as they walked by. Pretty quickly, Brady had the door shut behind them and was pulling him in by his hand. And then they were pressed together - finally. Max’s hands found either side of Brady’s face, lips urgently moving against his as they made their way over to his bed. He broke apart only to grin at him, sliding his hands down to his chest only to gently push him backwards. This time he didn’t waste any time before he was climbing up on his bed and straddling him, hips pressing down on his as he leaned in for another kiss, letting it linger before trailing open-mouthed kisses down his chest and to his stomach. Max stopped there, letting his nose graze against the spot his lips just brushed over, and glanced up again. “Bein’ in my room isn’t so bad, is it?” He teased, tone rough and still slightly slurred. Still, being careful to watch his reactions, he slid a hand down Brady’s hip and over the front of his sweats, just brushing over him to test the waters. And damn if he didn’t hear his own heart thundering in his ears as he did so.

-------Brady had no idea what time it was when he first woke up the following morning. It was bright as fuck, that was for sure, and he very quickly realized it was because the curtain was wide open. Why hadn’t he closed it like always? He rubbed his eyes as reality slowly started to come back to him. He hadn’t closed it because he had been drunk off his ass, and also because it wasn’t exactly ‘like always’ since this was Max’s room, and he was waking up in Max’s bed next to Max because they’d slept together last night. So, right. There was that. Brady blinked as he stared down at his friend, still fast asleep, lying on his stomach and hugging the pillow under his head. Even through Brady’s hazy memory and one hell of a headache, of course it all came flooding back to him. The way it felt when Max touched him, the feeling of his mouth on him, the hottest fucking look on Max’s face when Brady returned the favor. God. All of it. It was fucking good. He also vaguely remembered a snide remark about the whole ordeal having taken them long enough just before he passed out. But whatever.

He couldn’t wipe the smug smirk off his face as he forced himself to finally look away from Max and drag himself out of the bed, careful not to wake him. He found his pants on the floor and tugged them on before heading out to the living room. He shook his head at the discarded cans (which he’d worry about later, ‘cause whatever, not like anybody was coming over) and then caught sight of his camera. Right, he’d forgotten about the freaking video for Max’s channel. The battery was just about dead since Brady had been a dumbass and left it on all night. He sighed and picked it up to make sure the video was at least still there, and he was met with one over an hour long. Which was definitely unusual for them — they didn’t typically talk for that long. Brady furrowed his brow as he quickly skimmed through the video, and his heart dropped as he discovered that…everything had been recorded. Well, everything right up until going to Max’s room, after which it must have automatically stopped after surpassing the video time limit. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered as onscreen-Brady pushed Max down onto the couch. He weirdly felt like kind of a perv just standing there watching their accidental kind of sex tape, so he turned off the camera and took out the battery to start charging it before heading to the kitchen. He didn’t have the slightest clue how today would pan out, but he did know he just wanted some Lucky Charms at the moment.

Max was hardly coherent when he finally began to stir. It took a moment upon first waking up to truly get his bearings. And as the light harassed his vision, his memories began to come back to him. And his eyes opened, followed by his arm reaching back to the spot beside him. Empty. Oh no. With some difficulty, he sat up and looked at the now empty spot next to him, and dread immediately gathered in the pit of his stomach as he called the previous nights events. Brady kissing him… Him kissing Brady. Then them doing a lot more than that to each other. And he knew Brady wasn’t the type to wanna spoon him or hold his hand or whatever but his mind immediately went to the worst. Groaning as fully sat up and the sunlight hit his eyes, Max stood up and stretched his arms over his head, trying to soothe his stiff muscles before grabbing himself some sweatpants to tug on.

Walking over to the door, he uncovered Ratthew’s cage, smiling softly to himself as he looked up at him and squinted due to the sudden light entering his cage. “Moment of truth, buddy.” Max tapped his fingers to the side of the cage, then ran his other hand through his hair and walked out. He wasn’t sure if he was expecting to see Brady packing his stuff, or what. But he didn’t expect him to be…. eating cereal. And it was the same thing he saw every morning, but the sight still kind of made him smile anyway. “Uh. Morning.” He said cautiously as he walked in and approached the table as casually as he could. Nothing weird so far. It wasn’t until he got there that he noticed the box in front of Brady, and he squinted, fear forgotten momentarily as he reached out to lift up the plastic bag. Just as he expected. Empty. “Are you really eating the last of my Lucky Charms right now, dude?”

Brady looked up when Max entered the kitchen. He thought that when they saw each other, he might feel weird, or awkward, or a multitude of other emotions that would fuck things up between them, but instead Brady just felt… normal. It was the same sight he was used to seeing every day. Same roommate. Same general morning routine. The only thing different was that nothing was hidden anymore, and he’d probably argue that was going to make things easier. “Sup,” he said through a mouthful of cereal. He watched Max as he walked, and it occurred to Brady that literally all he was thinking of now was whatever was going through Max’s head. They’d probably have to really sit down and talk about this sometime soon. Right now was just not that time, especially not when Max wanted to pick a fight about the Lucky Charms. “Dude, they’re not your Lucky Charms,” he shot back. “What did you want me to do, make a new box magically appear? I’ll go get some more today.” If anything could be considered totally normal between them, it was this, without a doubt. Brady finished off the last of the cereal in his bowl and hesitated for a moment, wondering what he should say or if he should say anything at all, and here was that awkwardness he’d been expecting. Or maybe it wasn’t awkward so much as it was…tense. “So. Realized this morning I left my camera on all night.” The worst thing he could say? Perhaps. But he was feeling confident that this could maybe cut some of that tension. Maybe. He didn’t fucking know. “It recorded…for a while.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, peering at Max curiously to see if he’d figure it out on his own.

Maybe he was deflecting, just a little, by pointing out the empty cereal box. But at the same time, he couldn’t resist messing with Brady a little. It was instinct by now to tease him until he rolled his eyes at him, even if he told himself to stop doing that before he got punched one of these days. He still did it anyway though. “Fine. Our lucky charms.” Max shrugged, Brady’s tone not phasing him ‘cause he was honestly used to it. If this were a normal day, he’d grab the spoon when Brady wasn’t looking to take a bite for himself. But it felt kind of out of place after last nights events. Oddly enough, considering he’d just had way more important things of Brady’s in his mouth. He sighed. “It’d be nice if you could. Got any magic powers I should know about?” He couldn’t help his normal grin from taking place at that moment, until Brady went and mentioned the camera. The camera. Of freaking course….God, Max was an idiot. Max took a long, silent moment, as the words really and fully sunk in. And the first question that popped in his head was did Brady watch it? The second coherent thought was the fact that Brady was actually referencing what happened without any trace of panic. And at that realization, Max relaxed. Good sign. He wracked his brain trying to come up with a normal response. But his stupidity bravery was at an all time high. “Hot. You wanna save it just for us or post it up on PornHub?” Max leaned his hands on the counter, honestly bracing himself and shaking his head. “Sorry, sorry. I’m… wow.” He couldn’t help but start laughing a bit. “I never thought you’d want to make a sex tape with me.” He let it hang in the air, and he met Brady’s gaze, not really sure how to respond. He was torn between humor and regret. Maybe he was still drunk from all the Four Loko. “How do you… feel about that?” It was a loaded question, one that wasn’t necessarily about the camera or video.

Brady waited while the gears turned in Max’s head. He could practically see him putting the pieces together about what Brady had just said. And Max had been surprising him quite a bit within the past 24 hours, but his response? Not surprising. It was Max, after all. But Brady still rolled his eyes, because he was Brady. “You’re such an idiot.” Then he shrugged. “It wouldn’t even do well, for the record. S’not all that exciting.” From what he had seen before feeling creepy and also managed to remember. But it was fun to mess with Max. Brady went to the sink to clean up after himself when Max asked him how he felt, and he knew he wasn’t talking about a fucking sex tape or whatever. Except Brady didn’t really know what to say in response. He thought he made it pretty clear how he felt about what was going on last night. He also knew Max, though, and knew that he had a big heart and genuinely wanted to know, and deserved real answers. And while Brady might not have been able to tell him exactly what he wanted to hear (mostly because he still wasn’t entirely sure what that was), he could suck it up and be as honest as possible — and give him a little bit of shit in the process. “I feel like I wanna know why you were holdin’ out on me,” he finally settled on, because again, both honest and amusing. Brady turned and brushed his hands on his pants. “Gonna go get dressed and go to Starbucks. Text me what you want.” He started to head out of the kitchen toward his bedroom, but paused to turn and look at Max again. “Oh — and the battery’s gotta charge a little, but…camera’s on the coffee table, in case you wanna make sure your vid turned out okay.” And then he finally did go. They could truly deal with this later. Right now, they both needed coffee.

Max was honest to God, for the first time in a long time, speechless. Did that asshole just flirt back? He was about to say something when Brady added the bit about the camera. Max honestly wasn’t even thinking about the video right now. His hands laid flat on the counter as he leaned forward further, eyes flickering towards the living-room and the table where the camera sat. Damn. He was really going to have to go through it now and get rid of the embarrassing bits. Max wasn’t sure if Brady was just trying to mess with him or genuinely didn’t want to edit it out himself. “Hey, wait a minu—” But it was fallen on deaf ears as the door was slammed behind him. It took him a second after Brady leaving for a surprised smile filtered over his face. Well. Okay, then. Not exactly all the answers to the universe, but at least Brady was talking to him, and that was enough for him for now. He sighed and looked back in the direction of where they’d filmed last night. He’d mess with the whole camera thing later. But he really was gonna need that coffee Brady was talking about. And maybe a shower and a life. Max ran a hand through his hair and made his way back to his room to grab his phone. Pulling up Brady’s name, he shook his head to himself before sending his text.

“Surprise me, Bradley.”

#CANON #the four loko incident #current verse #002

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