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beanplague-moved · 6 years

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flesh and skin, chapter two.

you didn’t think it would happen,, you lacked faith. cws for: a small anxiety attack regarding phantom pains on the part of genji. it’s not super detailed, but i think it’s best to warn.

chapter one | ao3 | writing commissions | art commissions | donations.

Genji and Jesse practice an exercise in discretion. Their relationship remains quite the secret to their coworkers, and quite the mystery to themselves.

In the days since the kiss there has been a lot of sneaking around, a lot of kissing, and a lot of nights spent in each other’s rooms. Usually Jesse’s. It’s nice, being there, enjoying time with him. Such a connection is something that Genji has been poignantly lacking in recent history. This closeness is something he has grown unfamiliar with, and so the effect it has on him is fairly noticeable, at least to himself.

Genji wonders if Jesse can see it.

He falls asleep in Jesse’s room, but the daylight barely shines through the window when Jesse wakes him up with a gentle shake.

He presses a quick kiss to Genji’s lips before he explains the abrupt awakening, “Practice today, sugar,” he says. He uses pet names, and Genji is quick to find it endearing when he is certain that his past self would find it embarrassing. Sugar, darling, honey, such words are easy on Jesse’s tongue and natural in his vocabulary.

Genji is so unused to this. To this closeness, to this gentleness, to these words of affirmation. He shouldn’t get too swept up in it—such things are fleeting in nature—but they do get to him, and he has no intention of rejecting these emotions, not when they are so uncommon these days.

“You should get back to your room,” says Jesse, “We don’t want anyone to think something’s going on.”

No, they don’t want that at all. Genji can hardly picture the reaction they’d get, but there is no itch to figure it out. Still, he falters. “Maybe I could stay just a little longer,” he says.

Jesse’s eyebrow arches, “Now, Genji, you know that’s testing a limit.” He’s sitting up, his shoulder leaning against the wall the bed is pushed up against. It’s hardly more than a mattress. Blackwatch members aren’t exactly outfitted in luxury.

“How so?” There is a grin waiting on Genji’s lips. The corners of his mouth twitch, “I only want to sleep in a little bit.”

“Just sleeping in?” Jesse asks.

Genji shifts, lifting his arms to pull Jesse towards him. He kisses his lips, and then the corner of his mouth, and then his jaw.

He says, “Just sleeping in.”

Jesse says, “For one, you have terrible morning breath,” and he laughs, and Genji really does enjoy hearing that laughter. That joy. “And secondly, you sure know how to tempt a guy, huh?”

“I specialize in it,” says Genji, and he kisses Jesse’s neck, “Besides, don’t you like testing limits, sharpshooter?” He feels Jesse’s hand on his hip.

“You’ve got me there,” Jesse says, and he kisses Genji’s lips again.

Jesse and Gabriel spend the afternoon in the practice range. Genji watches. They’re mainly focusing on Jesse’s shooting.

Gabriel says, “I have never known someone whose aim gets progressively worse as time goes on, you know that?” Genji can tell that he doesn’t mean it.

Jesse hits the center of the target twice. He hits the outer ring twice. Gabriel extends an olive branch. “If you manage to break the tie I’ll let you off early today.”

Jesse looks over at Genji, who raises his eyebrows and allows a smirk to cross his face. “I wish you luck, cowboy,” says Genji. Jesse’s expression is hard to read, but something flashes over him. He smiles at Genji and turns to the target.

“I’ll take that bet, Gabe,” he says, and he twirls the gun in his hand.

“Quit playing around,” says Gabriel. Jesse quits playing around. “Showing off will get you killed on the battlefield, McCree.”

Jesse shrugs good-naturedly. He shows his teeth when he smiles. “Watch and learn, Gabe.” He glances at Genji and meets his eyes.

Genji smiles. Jesse misses the target.

Moira holds up a clipboard with a set of checkboxes and statements from Genji. He spent about ten minutes filling it out earlier.

She says, “Your report of the last few weeks indicates an increase in phantom pain. Is this accurate?” She truly does fit the part of a doctor, careful and scrutinizing.

“I wouldn’t put it down if it wasn’t,” says Genji, and Moira raises a thin eyebrow at him. He usually doesn’t say much during their sessions.

“An affirmative grunt would have worked fine,” says Moira, “There is little I can do about it aside from arrange a meeting with Dr. Ziegler, if you’d like her to talk very softly at you.”

Dr. Ziegler is kind, or she is at least of a gentler ilk than O’Deorain. Moira is familiar, but she is jagged, harsh. She has a low opinion of Ziegler.

“Or, I suppose you’d call her Angela,” says Moira, “She’s very busy with the official Overwatch business, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind making a business visit to her favorite pet project.”

Genji winces. Moira says, “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m not being rude, I’m telling the truth. She’s very fond of you,” she pauses, “I’m not. You shouldn’t prioritize any patient over another, you know. At the end of the day, they’re a responsibility.”

They are deadweight on Moira’s shoulders. They are a burden on her, and a price for the research she is allowed with Blackwatch. Genji looks at her with narrowed eyes.

“But you weren’t here to listen to me rant about the good doctor, were you?” she says, “We should get your vitals, and a blood test. We haven’t done one of those in a criminally long time.”

Genji is mostly quiet when she takes his vitals. He sucks in air through his teeth when she gives him the shot needed for his blood test.

Jesse’s room, on the bed. They listen to music and enjoy each other’s company. Jesse has an arm wrapped around Genji’s shoulders.

He asks, “What’s it like?” looking at Genji’s robotics—the space where his chest transitions from skin to metal. Genji knew this was coming.

“Painful,” he says, “I have yet to get used to it.”

Jesse nods. “You know, you aren’t different,” and he only seems to realize the curiousness of this statement—and the vagueness—after Genji gives him a look. He elaborates, “From anyone. You aren’t different from, y’know, me. Or Gabe. Or anyone.”

Genji doesn’t believe that. Genji will spend a lifetime not believing that. Still, he says, “Thank you.”

Jesse presses his lips to Genji’s temple.

Genji talks to Overwatch agents from the main division, sometimes. Today, particularly, as he has been sent to main headquarters for an appointment with Angela. Moira wasn’t lying when she said she’d set it up for him, at least.

He is unused to Overwatch, really. They’re different from Blackwatch. Less bleak, with a certain optimism that Genji has kept a certain distance from since his incident.

(Snakes. Sparrow. Song.)

Still, they are kind. They are unifying forces for good, and if Genji were not so knowledgeable of the actions behind it all—the black behind Overwatch’s white—and if he were living a different life, if he were allowed such menial pleasures, he might idolize their heroics. As it stands, he merely acknowledges them. He is fond of a few of them.

Lena is energetic and kind. Her brown eyes shine when she speaks of the latest Overwatch achievements or of her own personal life. She’s happy-go-lucky and there is this sense of hopefulness overflowing in her.

Genji appreciates that. She reflects the better parts of him, though they have faded in himself.

Reinhardt and Torbjorn are older, and they regard the world with different attitudes. Reinhardt views it with the same lens of optimism as any Overwatch operative. Heroism and glory are important to him, but they take a backseat to the safety of his team. They’re like a family to him.

(Genji is not sure if Blackwatch could ever be such a family. There is certainly a sense of camaraderie between them, but it is outlined with a knowledge of their purpose as an organisation. They are not the ones who are meant for heroism.

Still, some of them might be remembered.)

Torbjorn is objective. He takes great pride in his own creations—be they his mechanical work or his actual children—and he treats his teammates with a strict sense of friendliness. He cares for them, but he understands that this is a job. A job that they must be prepared for, should any danger come to them.

Angela is, safe to say, Genji’s favorite of the Overwatch operatives. She reminds him of better times and worse ones alike, but she is always a symbol of stability. She is kinder than his usual medic, and she regards him with such a sense of warmth that he can think of something other than the pain of his condition. He can feel like he matters for a moment.

She takes a look at his chart. She says, “Phantom pains, huh?” and there is certainly pity in her smile, which Genji doesn’t appreciate, but he understands. “We could work on exercises regarding them, if you like.”

They do.

Nearing the end of their session, Angela says, “I have to ask,” and she pauses, glancing at the chart again, “Despite this, you’ve stated that your overall mood has improved in daily life.”

Genji nods, “I’ve been getting to know my colleagues a bit more. It helps to have friends.”

Angela raises an eyebrow, and there is an inkling of suspicion on her face, but she lets a smile come to it. “It certainly does, Genji.”

Genji returns to Blackwatch HQ to discover little in the way of change. He meets Jesse in the mess hall, sitting with Gabriel.

Jesse says, “If you ever get another one of those doctor’s appointments, you have to set me up for one,” when Genji gets home. “No offense intended to O’Deorain, but she ain’t exactly the gentlest.”

Gabriel gives Jesse a warning look, much like an older brother would chastise his little sibling. Genji bristles at the familiarity.

(Bad comparison.)

“She doesn’t have to be. She’s a medic,” says Gabriel.

“All I’m saying is I’d be much more willing to get surgery from the angel than, you know,” Jesse says, “The opposite.”

“I’m not sure insinuating that one of our teammates is the devil is the best course of action,” Genji says, his tone playful. Gabriel chuckles, but he soon realizes the origin of the comment, turning to Genji curiously.

“Was that a joke?” he asks. Genji often forgets that people don’t know him for his humor here—or, well, people who aren’t Jesse.

“Oh yeah, Genji tells them all the time,” says Jesse, “A dry sense of humor, this one.”

“Huh,” says Gabriel, “I didn’t realize.”

Genji says, “That’s why the joke works. It’s unexpected.”

Jesse gives him a knowing look. Genji smiles at him.

Gabriel is changing. Gabriel is changing drastically. Gabriel is changing in a way no man ever should. Moira is orchestrating this change.

They demonstrate it during a small skirmish—a little squabble with a Talon-like company that should be easily wiped out. Gabriel becomes a shadow of a person. Gabriel steals the health of enemies. Gabriel changes.

Moira reaps some unknown benefit.

Genji sleeps in his own bed tonight—no Jesse to fool around with, unfortunately. He wakes in the middle of the night to the stinging in his arms and legs, and the pain like a heavy object on his chest.

The actual phantom pain feels bad—it feels like his whole body is on fire for a moment. It tenses and itches and eventually it trickles down, like rain filtering through the leaves of a tree—but it is followed by something worse.

The trigger for Genji’s anxiety is yet to be figured out. Angela and Moira alike are at a loss regarding it, and instead they have asked Genji to try and take notes. His surroundings during the incidents, the events preceding them. He never does. Genji cannot begin to make sense of his triggers, nor his pains.

He just feels so useless. So trapped in his own body, in his own flesh and skin. So alone in his own personal qualms, wallowing in this miserable affair he has made of himself. In this miserable affair that Overwatch has made of him. In this miserable affair that Hanzo has put upon him.

(Hanzo—Genji’s brother, a former protector, has now ascended to a point where he is neither. He is simply Hanzo Shimada, the newest heir to the empire.

And Genji is the dead sparrow on the ground beneath the nest, his body left to the soil. Genji has had his song kicked out of him, and the world has attested that it was the right decision.)

He is thinking too much.

So, like that first night, he stops thinking and he knocks on Jesse’s door. Jesse answers. He always does, he’s reliable that way.

Jesse is a shining light in bleak times such as these. He is messy and Genji’s affection for him is almost inexplicable, but it isn’t. It’s explained by every little thing—every little joke they share, every little smile Jesse brings to Genji’s face, every little bit of support he offers—it’s all very explicable. Genji almost wishes it wasn’t so, because he wouldn’t be so afraid if it weren’t.

Jesse answers, “You okay?” in his own tired voice. Genji blinks.

“I think,” he pauses, “I’d like to be near you, tonight.”

Genji rests his head on Jesse’s chest. He runs a hand over Jesse’s tattoo. A skull and chains and wings. Deadlock certainly had an aesthetic in mind.

“Tell me about you,” he says, “before Blackwatch. Before everything.”

Jesse threads his fingers through Genji’s black hair. He says, “Before everything? That’s a long time, honey,” he pauses, and there’s a certain fondness when he looks at Genji. He says, “You’re lucky I’m soft on you, you know that?”

Genji knows.

Jesse starts with, “Grew up in New Mexico, got involved in a couple of bad stunts,” and Genji can only imagine what those bad stunts consisted of. He tries to imagine a young Jesse getting caught with the wrong crowd. “I was, uh, seventeen, I think, when Gabe caught us.”

“That’s young,” says Genji.

“You know it,” says Jesse, “I was a rebel. Hopefully that’s your type.”

“It certainly is,” says Genji, “How could you ever think otherwise? Do you even know me?”

Jesse smiles, and there’s that fondness again. It seeps into his expression without warning. He returns to his story, “I guess Blackwatch made me a better kid, certainly better than I would have been with Deadlock, or on my own,” he stops, then, and he asks, “What about you?”

“Me? We were just talking about you, Jesse,” Genji says, “You aren’t the type to deflect. I am. It’s literally one of my best tactics.”

“I’m just curious,” he says. Genji indulges his curiosity.

He tries to find the best place to start. He says, “I was what you would call a playboy.”

“No,” says Jesse, with mock astonishment, “You’re telling me that Genji Shimada, heir to a million dollar crime empire, was a bit of a playboy? I can’t believe it.”

“It’s true,” Genji nods, “When I wasn’t combat training I was flirting with supermodels across the globe. It’s truly a lifestyle I had nailed down. I’m jealous of past me.” He really is, but he tries to say it in jest. Tries not to let that honesty reveal itself. Jesse mulls it over.

“I dunno,” he says, “I think I like this Genji a bit more.”

Genji raises an eyebrow, “And why is that?”

“Well,” says Jesse, “playboy Genji sounds interesting and all, but I’m not sure he’d ever give me the time of day, not with all those supermodels he’s flirting with.”

Genji laughs, “Of course he would,” he looks up at Jesse, lifting himself up and moving to be closer to his face. He presses a kiss to Jesse’s lips, “After all, rebels are his type.”

They’re tired in the morning, and they walk into practice together. They stand a convenient distance apart and act like strangers to ward away suspicion.

Gabriel says, “McCree, I need to speak to you outside,” and he leads Jesse into the hallway. Genji focuses on his practice. He manages to evade several attacks from an omnic practice bot. He has to up the simulation difficulty for it to provide any real challenge.

Practice passes without much interference. Occasionally, Genji thinks of Jesse.

While they are alone—in the dark of the hallway between their rooms, keeping cautious watch on the doors to make sure they aren’t interrupted—Jesse says, “Gabe’s picking a fight with Talon again.”

“Again?” asks Genji.

“Again,” Jesse answers, “I’m going with him to Roman facility to consult their team. Mainly Gérard.”

Gérard is an Overwatch member who remains quite the mystery to Genji. He seems nice—welcoming, even—but Genji has never had the opportunity to talk to the man for longer than a few minutes.

“Be safe,” he says.

Jesse says, “Of course I’ll be,” and he adds, “You don’t get yourself into any trouble here, okay?”

“Without you? I wouldn’t dare.”

#mcgenji #overwatch #jesse mccree #genji shimada #my writes

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texanredrose · 7 years

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Family Business

@antonslavik020 made a suggestion and I did my usual thing and ran with it.

Winter stared at the shop, straightening her tie by rote and watching as the last customer left the waiting area, taking his sweet time clamoring into his vehicle and driving off. The sun had already set and the lights were being shut off, everyone except the head mechanic and her sister having gone home for the day. It would be ideal to corner the woman alone, enough shakedowns had taught Winter that limiting her target's backup always provided results, but it would be hard to separate the siblings without direct intervention.

"You two stay in the car," she said, popping open her door. "I'll handle this."

"Winter-"

"This is my job." She turned to look into the backseat, meeting her sister's gaze evenly. "You run the branch, Blake's your bodyguard, and I'm your enforcer. Ideally, no one will even know your name, much less your face." With a nod to the Faunus behind the wheel, she exited the car. "Go grab something to eat. This'll take an hour at most; meet me at the motel on the corner."

"Be careful," Blake said, amber eyes darting towards the mechanic shop. "Valens don't intimidate easy."

"That was before they met me," she replied, settling into a role she'd been trained to embody since birth. She didn't have the enigmatic charm Weiss possessed, the sort of imperiousness that could be endearing, but she did have the kind of set to her jaw and tilt to her shoulders than would make men twice her size back down, an unspoken sort of dangerous intent that even a blind man could see. Without lifting a finger, she could inspire fear, but not loyalty- not the way Weiss could. So, she would not be a leader in that sense, but she would lay the foundation for her sister to build an empire over her own in this country. Whatever it took.

ding

"Sorry, we're closing up shop for the day!" A cheery voice rang out as the younger mechanic rounded the counter, a smile on her lips that faded as she noticed no cars out in the lot and no recognition sparked by the pristine white suit Winter wore. "I'm, uh, sorry. Is there... something I can help you with, though?"

"Where's your sister?" The icy edge to her voice made the young woman flinch; between the two, the little sister seemed the least keen to interact with others, always a touch shy unless suitably distracted, rambling on about whatever caught her interest. "She's closing up." And then she seemed to steel her nerves, a frown coming to her lips. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but you'll have to come back tomorrow."

"Hey, Rubes, what's the-" Then the elder sibling appeared, jumpsuit stained with oil and who knew what else, grease smudged on her cheeks as lilac eyes fell on the newcomer. "Hold up... I'm sorry, Ma'am, but we're closed."

"Yang Xiao Long." Winter clasped her hands behind her back. "I'm here regarding a business proposal from my employer."

"Look, if you're part of that chain trying to buy us out-"

"I assure you, I'm not some corporate lackey." Her eyes narrowed. "And you have much worse than being bought out to consider as a potential future."

They held each others gaze, silence stretching thin in the shop's little waiting area.

"Ruby, go home," Yang said, a note of urgency in her tone.

"But-"

"Go on." The blonde nodded towards the door. "I'll take care of this."

Although reluctant, the younger of the two complied, grabbing the hooded cape she wore everywhere but at work and throwing it around her shoulders, the door bell ringing out as she exited the shop.

"Smart move."

"Shut up." Moving around the counter, Yang went and locked the door, closing the blinds along the way. "I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer but I'm not deaf. I've been hearing all the little whispers about a bid bad mafia family moving into town."

"Then you're well aware of the wonderful opportunities I can offer you. On behalf of-"

"Shove it." Now more or less in privacy, the mechanic turned back towards her, brows drawing together as she scowled. "I'm not rolling over, shilling out protection money to a bunch of crooks." She reached up, pulling apart the top portion of the jump suit to reveal a threadbare yellow tank top beneath, chiseled muscles of her arms on display as the sleeves were tied around her waist. Her core- just as defined- became visible with every breath, the tight material stretched to its limit as she settled into a fighting stance, both fists raised. "I don't know how many of you there are, but I know how many I'm gonna take down. All of you."

"I'm not here to start a fist fight. You're an investment-"

"Like Hell I am!" Anger and pride ignited in her lilac eyes, making them dance. "This is my terf, not yours. I'm not some cash cow for you to milk."

"You're insisting on doing this the hard way, is that it?" Her expression didn't break, even with the little lilt in her voice. "You're willing to start a fight with me... with the hope that your sister will be waiting for you at home, safe and sound, when you're done."

Panic flashed in the blonde's expression, all her bravado thrown aside as real fear crept into her voice. "You wouldn't- she's my little sister, you wouldn't." And then the anger came back. "Don't hurt her!"

Winter had done far too many intimidating shakedowns to count but this marked the first time she heard those words, and the first time she was snapped away from the present to relive a memory she'd thought she'd buried. Her entire life revolved around fear, intimidation, and manipulation- it would surprise no one that it extended to her home life as well. But she remembered, clear as crystal, the day their father gave Weiss her scar, the day she tried to be a real big sister and protect her... and she remembered saying those words just before she learned the hard way that doing the right thing meant paying a very steep price.

"She won't come to any harm," she said, the words leaving her lips before she had a chance to process them, and she had to bite back a curse as she effectively dug a hole for herself. Too much emotion had slipped out- the words sounded honest and genuine and she meant them, and Yang didn't miss that fact. "If you cooperate."

But it was too late. She'd shown too much of her hand and now the mechanic felt emboldened. "Oh, so somewhere in there lurks a real person, huh? You got a conscience under all that blood on your hands?"

"I do exactly what you're doing now- I protect my family."

"Bunch of criminals make for a lousy family."

"So you weren't born to a mechanic?" She took a few steps away, shifting her attention to a picture on the wall- a father, and two smiling daughters, in front of the very same shop. "You came to this life of your own volition?"

"It's not the same-"

"Yes, Yang, it is." Winter looked back at her, trying to recapture the intimidation she'd had before, inspire the same fear. "This is the life I was born to live. I'm an enforcer- I work for my family to protect their interests. Become one of those interests, and I'll protect you, too."

"What kind of family requires a weekly joining fee, huh?" Yang jabbed a finger at her. "Don't sell this as something it's not. You'd rather bleed us dry than get your own hands dirty."

"Oh, I'll beat you bloody, if that's what you'd prefer." She brought her hands around to the front, made a show of cracking her knuckles. "Getting my hands dirty is my job. And the fee is just... upkeep."

"Upkeep?"

"Keeps police and inspectors away, encourages business- everyone who joins the family helps each other out. That's how it works."

"And anyone who wants to move away gets erased from the records, permanently," Yang said, settling back into her stance once more. "I'm not that dumb."

As much as she didn't want to admit it, she could admire the fire she saw shining in the woman's eyes. The courage, the drive- how could she not? But she had a job to do.

"We're looking to build a... different sort of family here." She settled into a stance of her own. "We'd much rather handle things amicably."

"What part of extortion is amicable, exactly?"

"Do you know how they do things in Atlas?" Winter began to circle, keeping herself loose and watching for an opening. "First, they pick a place they like. Then, things start to go wrong there- all sorts of things. Slashed tires, broken windows, mysterious fires- enough to put a place out of business. And then someone shows up, and it all goes away... for a price." She offered a small shrug, as if the whole thing bored her. "I always thought it a bit extreme."

"Oh, so this is the kinder, gentler mafia?"

"If you'd rather, we can go things the old school way."

"How about this?" Yang shot forward, throwing a punch that moved as fast as lightning, and if she hadn't been anticipating such, she would've been laid out in one hit. However, Winter didn't expect the second strike- didn't think the woman could move quite that fast consistently considering her solid build, but she managed to block or dodge effectively. She'd been in too many fights by this point to be taken entirely off guard, and despite the elbow to her gut, she managed to sweep Yang's legs from beneath her. With the blonde landing solidly on her back, winded, Winter quickly put her forearm across the woman's neck. That should have been the end of the fight. Most people would stop there, because what was keeping Winter from killing her? But Yang saw the restraint and exploited it, used her superior strength to roll both of them over until she found herself trapped beneath the mechanic, arms pinned to the sides of her head. "No one's coming in to save you, huh?" Lilac eyes narrowed, anger still in her voice. "If one hair on Ruby's head-"

"There's no one else," she said, struggling and failing to dislodge the woman atop her. "I came alone. I told you; we do things differently."

"Why? Why did you come to Vale?"

Winter remained silent for a moment but caught in that lilac gaze... the truth poured from her lips. "We can't change Atlas. We can't save it. But if we set up a foothold here, we can stop it from happening again."

"You didn't like the way your bosses did business, so you decided to come do it yourself?" The woman rolled her eyes with a sour frown. "How enterprising of you."

"It's not that simple."

"Than simplify it." The grip on her wrists tightened. "Or else."

"Or else what?" Winter raised a brow. "For all your disdain of criminals, you'll become one yourself and kill me?"

"It's self defense."

"Of course it is." She sighed, irritation plain in her voice. "It's almost like I ensured you'd have that excuse."

"... what do you mean by that?"

"If I'd come in broad daylight, spoke softly, let your anger be seen by others, would you have the same defense? Would anyone believe your word over mine?" Winter glanced down at her suit. "As far as the public's concerned, I'm the daughter of a businessman. And you're a mechanic who got mad at a customer- you do realize this could've gone very wrong for you, yes?" She tilted her head. "But now-"

"Now I could just dump you outside and call the cops in the morning. Act like I didn't know a thing- you just got mugged and left on my doorstep." Her grip relaxed a little. "You're really banking on me not killing you, huh?"

"I'm betting on you having a better conscience. You'd be surprised how few morals are instilled in children who grow up as part of the family."

Slowly, Yang's grip relaxed even more as her expression smoothed out. "You don't mean you were just the kid of some low level thug. You were up there."

"My father is the boss in Atlas. He took my grandfather's idea of building an alliance between businesses and perverted it into what you hold such a great disdain for," Winter said, weighing her options. She might regain the upper hand, regain her feet, but she couldn't beat the mechanic in a fair fight. And she'd really rather not shoot the woman. "My sister and I came to Vale because we know this is where he's coming next. If we can build up before he gets here, we can stop Vale from becoming another Atlas."

Slowly, the pressure on her wrists disappeared entirely, though she couldn't quite get up yet with Yang hovering over her, lilac eyes searching her expression. "Lord help me, but I think I believe you." She sighed. "What would joining your family mean for me and mine?"

"We need a place to start laundering money. An honest business- you keep doing what you're doing and we'll just be using your books on occasion."

"And what's the price?"

"You're one of our first partners." This part Weiss had explicitly ordered her to abide, despite her arguments that it would set a bad precedent. Still, she had to obey if they were going to get anywhere in Vale. "You can name your price."

Yang seemed to mull the thought over before nodding. "Fine." And then she reached for Winter's tie, yanking on it to pull her up and into a kiss. Not rough or hard, not even that long, and it left her blinking in surprise and confusion as the mechanic pulled back. "There. Am I paid up for the week?"

In that moment, she should've got angry. Should've lectured that this wasn't a game, that she should be taking this seriously. Should've demanded a real answer. Instead, she replied. "... no."

One hand buried in greasy blonde locks, and she smelled of oil and sweat, but at that moment, Winter didn't rightly care. What they were trying to do was insane, she'd accepted that, but she'd yet to fall victim to the madness herself. Apparently, it would find her anyway, in her sister's insistence that they could beat their father at the game he created, in this mechanic willing to fight to protect her shop, and now in herself for wanting nothing more than those hands on her again, this time with less of an intention to bruise and more to soothe.

Maybe madness was the only way to make sense of the world.

An hour later, Winter watched as Blake pulled up, getting into the passenger seat without a word and merely nodding for the Faunus to continue driving. "It's done; the mechanic agreed to be a front."

"Winter, what happened? You look like you fought a grizzly bear."

She winced, hoping that the details would be left well enough alone. "Nothing of import. Intimidation didn't work, so I had to use other means." Eventually, she sighed, passing a hand over her face. "And... the mechanic agreed to put us in touch with more places that might be open to an arrangement."

"That wasn't part of the plan." Blake noted, those keen amber eyes drifting her way and staying for just a second too long. "Did you two decide that before or after the hickey?"

"Hickey- Winter." Her sister leaned forward, noting that her disheveled state wasn't the byproduct of a fight, at least not entirely. "What happened?"

"I let her name her price," she replied, reaching up to straighten her tie before remembering that she didn't have it anymore. "In hindsight, I should've taken into account that she's... very..."

"Attractive?" The Faunus offered, that little curl to her lips indicating amusement. "Would explain why you insisted on handling it alone."

"Don't you start-"

"Both of you, stop it." Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose. "I can't believe this. But... she is on our side?" At her nod, the woman sat back and sighed. "I suppose that's what really matters. But be careful, Winter. You know this could be used against you."

From the corner of her eye, she saw the way Blake's ears flicked and the pensive expression on her face. Winter felt tempted to call her sister out on being a bit hypocritical, but opted against it. After all, they'd gotten this far on madness; no sense in trying to apply logic now.

Meanwhile, at a little house just down the road from the mechanic shop, Yang stumbled through the door and plopped down on the couch, putting her face in her hands and sighing heavily. Already she could hear her sister coming down the hall, hurrying to the living room with relief evident in her voice.

"Oh, Yang, I'm so glad you made it home, I-" And then she stopped dead in the entryway. "Yang... why are you covered in scratch marks? And bite marks? And... is that that woman's tie?" A beat of silence. "What the hell happened?"

"Well... either the best thing to ever happen to me," she replied, turning slowly to look at her sister. "Or the biggest mistake. Jury's still out on that."

And she really wasn't sure when she'd find out.

#TRR writes #Elderburn #Monochrome #TRR and the discord shenanigans

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itdans · 7 years

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read on ao3.

His mothers were watching him eat breakfast and trying not to be obvious about it. His ma kept walking in and out of the kitchen, refilling her tea cup just to down it like she thought it’d be taken away. They were nervous and didn’t want to admit it. This was possibly the tensest breakfast they’d had since he’d returned, and that was saying something.

Shiro didn’t have much, just a single backpack that had belonged to him in high school. It wasn’t even all the way filled. When he’d come down from the Castle of Lions, he’d had even less. He hadn’t needed more than the clothes on his back when he was afraid his family would shun him. That was over a week ago, a week since the paladins went their separate ways to enjoy their first trek back on Earth for long enough to matter. Time was as unrelenting an enemy as the Galra, but they’d finally found their opening. Shore leave. It was a chance to revisit the lives they’d left behind, to see if they could still find a way to fit into them.

Shiro wasn’t sure they would all return to the Castle, but that was what mattered the most. They finally had a choice.

He still wasn’t sure where he stood.

He’d had one week with his family, a family who’d mourned him and moved on, a family who remembered the best of what he had because grief was kindest on the brightest of memories, a family who still cried the first night he’d walked through their front door. It had been amazing and terrifying in equal measure. If he thought about it for too long, Shiro thought he would scream.

“Aren’t you going to eat more?” His mother asked. There was more grey in her hair than he remembered. Shiro didn’t think there had ever been a time in his life that she’d forgotten to polish her copper highlights. She’d lost weight, too. The years had left her frail and small, fragile in a way he’d never seen her before, and Shiro hated himself for thinking it.

He remembered how different it had been after he’d moved out to study at the Garrison. How coming home at the end of the semester taught him to worry that his parents were really getting older. It had terrified him then. He wasn’t sure how to feel now.

“I’ll be back at the end of the week.” He promised, and gathered her into his arms. She’d been shorter than him since he was fourteen, and Shiro was suddenly struck by how long ago that was.

He wanted to be kinder for them. He wanted to be gentler, but the first time they’d held his hand, he’d been reduced to tears, not the other way around. There was so much he wished they didn’t know, so much he intentionally kept from them, but he couldn’t decide if he would regret not telling him.

“Are you sure your friend doesn’t want to come in?” His ma asked, looking out the window to the figure that lingered on their front lawn. Keith slouched against her car, trying to make himself look smaller, but mostly just making the nosiest of their neighbors extremely curious.

Keith had helped him fill the car with supplies, but he’d refused to come in. Shiro had asked three times. He wished he’d asked a fourth.

“He’s fine. He doesn’t like olives.”

Shiro gestured to his omelette with a wry smile. Keith would eat them, he knew. He’d pick them out of the dish, shove them into a little pile and chew them as quickly as possible without even making a face. But he’d never liked them. It had taken Shiro months to figure out, when they were younger.

“Just take care of yourself.” He found himself wrapped in their arms as they both hugged him tight, wanting to say more but all of them failing to find the words. “And call us to let us know how you’re doing.”

“I will, I promise.” Shiro shoved the rest of his food into his mouth and slipped out of their embrace. Waving goodbye tugged a little at his heart, even though he knew that he’d be back.

For the longest time, he’d never thought he’d be able to come home again. Now, he wasn’t sure it felt like home at all. Shiro didn’t know if he’d changed or if this place had, but it was hard to accept that the home he carried inside was static and perfect, but the one on earth have moved on and changed without him. Life had kept going, it was stupid to think that it had somehow stopped to wait for him to get back.

“Drive carefully! No speeding, this isn’t a rocket ship.” His mother teased, throwing an arm around his ma’s shoulders. “This trip was a good idea. I’m glad you took the time to planet.”

“Mom.”

“Did you pack snacks? We can some mini bags of rocket chips. Has your friend had breakfast?” She asked, even if she very well knew that Keith hadn’t had her breakfast.

“Mom!”

His mothers laughed as Shiro threw his bag into the back of the old car, refusing to look at Keith who leaned against the car door with a look of shocked realization.

“I know where you get it now.” Keith whispered as Shiro scowled harder, feeling all of five years old again.

“You, get in the car.” Shiro pointed at Keith. “Mom, Ma, I’ll call you both later. Bye!” He didn’t waste any more time and hopped into his seat. Keith barely had time to close the door before they were off, pulling out into the nearly empty streets under the bright summer sun.

Keith smoothed out his itinerary, mentally running through their supplies and their planned stops. He’d been looking forward to this trip since the moment they’d touched down back on Earth. The other Paladins had run off to visit their families while Coran and Allura went on a worldwide sight-seeing tour and Keith was happy for them all.

They’d needed a chance to come home again.

Keith just felt like he was already there.

There was no one waiting for him back in the dusty shack he’d lived in after the Garrison just like there hadn’t been anyone to care he’d gotten kicked out or anyone to notice he’d disappeared for over a year. Shiro had promised him a week to just relax and kick back on a road trip, just the two of them, like they’d always talked about in the Garrison but never had time for. That made everything worth it.

Shiro didn’t know where Keith had gone to since he landed, and Keith had no intention of telling him. He didn’t need Shiro’s concern, and more importantly, he didn’t need his pity. Besides, Shiro had enough on his plate. It had been years since he’d ridden in it, but Keith still recognized the car they used. It belonged to Shiro’s ma. Barring Galra attack, they were going to have to come back just to return it.

“I’ve mapped out our itinerary. We’re going to be driving in shifts if we want to make everything.”

Shiro gave a noncommittal grunt and Keith frowned, looking back down at his carefully planned list. He’d outlined all the roads, every hotel and campsite for maximum efficiency. They wouldn’t waste their freedom on anything that wasn’t important. Keith could already feel the time ticking away, all too soon they’d be back on the castle fighting a war that they were still outnumbered in, and his chance would be gone forever.

It would work this time, he’d make it work.

He glanced over at Shiro who was watching the road silently. “Hey so, you’re moms seem really nice.”

“Yeah.” Something in Shiro’s face softened, a happiness that had been missing all those months they’d been in space, and Keith felt something in his chest tighten. “It was tough at first, they thought I’ve been dead for two years, but it’s…it’s good to be home. I’m glad they know I’m okay, I made them worry so much.”

Keith twisted the itinerary nervously in his hands. His stomach plummeted, but he didn’t hesitate to offer, “We don’t have to do this, you know. We could go back, you could spend the week with your family. I see you every day and they’ve missed you so much.”

“No.” Shiro said, quick enough that Keith looked up. It must have surprised Shiro, too, because he fell silent all too soon. Keith waited, hoping to give him the chance to explain, but Shiro never did, and the quiet between them made Keith feel like he’d tripped over his own feet. He reached out slowly, fumbling with the radio, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Shiro’s frown deepen.

Something distinctly bright was playing on the radio. Keith kept it because he couldn’t find anything else.

“Did you ever have… rocket cookies?” Shiro asked softly, clearing his throat. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I haven’t thought about them in years. Those sugar cookies that they always sell in the red packing with the big yellow letters? They’re not really rocket cookies, they’re called Tiger or something. You can get them for a dollar almost anywhere. Or you could.”

“No.” Keith said, quietly wracking his brain to try and remember the last time he’d been in a human supermarket, or even the last time he’d cared about cookies. “Are those the ones with chocolate on them?”

Shiro looked away, voice gone mellow with uncertainty. “No. They’re not.”

“Oh.” Keith didn’t know what to say. Silence settled uncomfortably between them as he turned to look out of the window. The bright California sky was bluer than he remembered. The colors always looked different when an alien sun burned overhead. The sky stretched out over the ocean until the line between them blurred. He shifted in his seat, pulling at hot skin where he’d started sticking to the faux leather, and leaned against the door.

The road wound down the coastline, perfectly beautiful. The whole trip was supposed to be perfect. The perfect excuse to spend time with Shiro alone, the perfect set up to something more, the perfect chance he’d been waiting years to take. He’d poured everything into making sure every detail was just right and already, they’d run out of things to say.

He scrambled to try and fix everything.

“We could pick some up if you’d like?” Keith suggested, turning back to Shiro. “There should be a store by where we’re set to make camp tonight and we can check to see if they have any. I have some other snacks too, I wasn’t sure what you wanted. Anything’s better than green goo, right?” He laughed weakly.

Suddenly the car turned right, hard enough that Keith was straining against his seat belt before he could regain his balance. Beneath them, the car’s tires crunched over pebbles as they rolled off the asphalt, coming to an unsteady stop by the side of the road. For a moment, Keith was irrationally worried that he’d somehow found a way to ruin everything, but Shiro’s attention was elsewhere.

“Keith, look.”

Beyond them was a long, empty stretch of impossibly blue ocean. It stretched farther than the eye could see, shimmering into light just before the horizon met it. The shore cut off sharply to pebbles and coral, but pretty like a picture as long as Keith didn’t have to worry about getting his heel cut on anything.

The last time Keith had gone swimming on Earth, it had been at the Garrison pool as part of a physical education requirement. Lap swimming was a hobby he could have learned to love if he ever had the resources for it, but the idea of splashing around some sandy beach just seemed like more of a hassle than it was worth. But this… this looked like a postcard.

A distinctly human postcard.

“Can we stay here a while?” Shiro asked. He’d already opened his door.

Behind them, the air still whooshed as cars sped past, drowning out the sound of their radio. They needed to drive for six more hours if they were going to make camp before sunset. If they didn’t, they might be stuck in the middle of nowhere all night. But Shiro was smiling, turning his face into the afternoon breeze, and something in Keith’s stomach fluttered nervously. “We can probably track down those cookies when we stop for gas.”

Something must’ve shown on his face, because Shiro laughed.

“Forget about the cookies and the plans.” Shiro grinned and held out his hands, pulling Keith towards the beach. He looked so young and happy, the burden of leadership lifted from his shoulders just for a moment and Keith felt like he couldn’t breathe. It was like the last few years had fallen away and they were back in the Garrison, two kids with nothing but hope in their future. When Shiro laughed, Keith was drawn in before he even realized he wore a matching smile.

“Are you seriously taking a break twenty minutes after we left your house?” Keith tried to be serious, but Shiro was dragging him across the shore, tiny shells crunching under his feet.

“C’mon.” Shiro teased. “When was the last time that you and I just had time to have fun like this? It’s just the two of us right?”

Keith knew the exact date, the last time they’d been together before training for the Kerberos mission had taken up too much of Shiro’s time and they hadn’t been able to find another moment to spare. And then the year after, when he replayed it over and over in his head, wondering if he could have said something that could have saved Shiro. Or at least said goodbye. He shrugged it off, playing it casual.

“A while, I guess?”

Shiro hesitated for the first time, offering him a smile and a look that said more than Keith was ready to face before slowly stripping out of his t-shirt, tossing it carelessly behind them and suddenly Keith couldn’t focus on anything else.

They all bore symbols of battles past, but the angry lines that cut across Shiro’s skin told stories of a time he didn’t have the paladin armor to protect him. Shiro hadn’t had any of them the last time he’d seen Shiro like this.

Something in Shiro’s face softened, almost sad though Keith didn’t know why. He squeezed Keith’s hand with his metal fingers before recovering with a smile. “Then I owe you some fun. Race you to the ocean?”

Keith squawked in outrage as Shiro took off running without a proper count-off, before racing across the sand after him. As they dragged each other under the waves, the shadows on the beach lengthened.

They wasted a whole lot more than twenty minutes before they dragged themselves back to the car, dripping wet and laughing.

#sheith #voltron #keith #shiro #sheithpositivityweek #look! our fic!#please leave comments!!! ;;#or kudos we really like kudos

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