#I get twitchy when trying to be still. why sometimes my typing gets wild because being still to go on computer while excited is hard

[dootznbootz]

There's something really special when you don't have to worry about your stims bothering others because you're with people who don't mind your stims or bother you about it! 🥹

Shout out to people who let others stim freely and don't make a big deal about it. You have no idea how much that means!

[neonthewrite]

Washed Up Winchesters 8 (Final)

The mystery is solved and the case closed! It seems the Winchesters didn't quite expect things to go this way, but when there's a giant involved, all kinds of things go differently!

Cowritten with @nightmares06, the writer behind the @brothersapart multiverse!

( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) ( 4 ) ( 5 ) ( 6 ) ( 7 ) -8-

Story Tag

Read Time ~10 minutes

~~~~~

Chase pushed himself up and shook his head. He was more used to being swept up in a giant hand, but toppling over a few times had winded him. He frowned over the edge of the hand, then over at Sam. “What?”

Jacob’s other hand lifted to be level with them. Minnie was clinging to his thumb and scanning the flock of sheep warily. They were all still milling around, keeping a tight group, several of them aiming disdainful baaas up in the air. Dean’s defiant stand over their heads certainly had not gone unnoticed. Minnie had never seen sheep act like that, certainly not in the shadow of a giant. “Sam?”

"Th-the sheep!" Sam gestured in the direction of the hostile flock. "We're chasing skinwalkers, not werewolves! They can be any type of animal, so long as it's what the pack started out as!"

The confusion on Dean's face cleared. "So you're saying this flock is the people we've been chasing the whole time?"

Sam nodded at the silver knife in Dean's hand. "One way to find out for sure."

Jacob frowned pensively. Even after hearing about how dangerous the skinwalkers were, he could hardly imagine the flock of fluffy sheep before him causing much trouble. Mostly they milled around among each other, all keeping tabs on Dean with his glimmering knife. It was weird that they didn't even want to run from Jacob, but he hadn't made any moves against them.

Even Chase and Minnie had been mostly spared. Chase had only fallen over because he kept trying to pull Dean up.

Jacob decided to throw in his two cents. "I mean, they're… they're not really doing anything," he pointed out.

"Except yelling at us," Chase agreed, waving a hand at a ram that bleated insistently up at him.

"Wait," Minnie chimed in, her brow pinching with confusion. "Do they understand what we're saying when they're in their whatever-form?"

Sam circled a hand through the air aimlessly, trying to gather his thoughts and what he knew of their current enemies. "Skinwalkers aren't like werewolves, who give in to their more... animalistic side when they transform. They maintain their regular consciousness and memory. The main danger is that they can transfer their ability with a bite, increasing the size of their pack... or flock." Sam gave the flock of sheep a strange look. He'd never encountered supernatural creatures in the guise of herbivores like the sheep. This case was shaping up to be unique in more ways than one.

"That means," Sam continued, "they know just who we are, and anything we said while we were here. Which is why they were so quick to lunge at me and Dean. They already found us once on the ship, when they were in their human forms. We couldn't stay under cover, and ended up tossed overboard."

Minnie frowned critically over the side of Jacob’s hand, even as the giant lifted everyone slightly higher. If those sheep really were skinwalkers, and at this point they certainly weren’t acting like normal sheep, they’d just let the group wander among them. She’d patted their heads and tried to click at them like she did with her lambs back home and everything. The feeling that wormed into her gut was something like betrayal.

“So these guys might be the reason I found you floundering out in the waves,” Jacob echoed, a disapproving frown on his face.

“Well what do they--” Chase began, asking Sam first before looking over the side of the hand at the nearest sheep bleating up at them. “What do you want in Lilliput then?!”

For a long moment, it appeared as though Chase's demand would go unanswered. The sheep milled restlessly around, giving Jacob's feet a wide berth as they bleated.

Then, the ram that had given Dean a runaround when he was on the ground stepped out into an opening that formed in the flock. It cocked its head, fixing one eye on the hand that held Chase, Minnie, Sam and Dean. Its expression was impossible to read as it looked them over, one by one.

There was a shift, and then the ram's horns appeared to melt away. Several cracks could be heard as its back shifted to an upright position, and the hooves split into four fingers and a thumb.

After less than ten seconds from when the shift started, the ram stood there as a regal and distinguished looking man, dressed in a simple white shirt and dark pants. He frowned at the people in Jacob's hand, then up at the giant himself.

"As I recall," the man said, "you were the ones to smuggle onto our ship when we had done nothing to you in turn, stinking of silver and gunpowder."

Seeing the transformation had been more than enough to leave Jacob, Minnie, and even Chase speechless for a hesitant moment. Jacob’s mouth opened slightly, as amazed as he’d been the first time he met Chase. He had never really thought about tiny people existing anywhere before. He definitely hadn’t imagined them having the ability to turn into tiny sheep. “Uh. Wh… what,” he muttered.

“I mean. I guess that’s technically true,” Chase finally admitted, sending an uncomfortable sideways glance at Sam and Dean. He frowned down at the apparent leader of a flock of sheep skinwalkers. “So … are skinwalkers usually dangerous, or not? ‘Cause I feel like that would clear up a lot, knowing what you actually plan to do in Lilliput, right?”

The man’s lip curled in disgust. “Oh, please,” he said disparagingly. “Unlike our more… wolf-ish cousins, we have no interest in anyone’s hearts.”

Next to him, a second sheep transformed back. This one was shorter, and he had very mousy features in comparison to the ram’s dignified look. “But we like Romaine hearts,” he stuttered out insistently. “Right? Right?!”

“Please, Jerimiah,” the ram said. “This situation is delicate enough without your help.” He turned to look up at the Lilliputians and Blefuscians held in the giant’s hand. “Haven’t you ever heard ‘The grass is greener on the other side?’ We are here in search of better pastures. Nothing more.”

Chase’s mouth opened in a delighted grin over the bad pun. Before he could try to chime in with his own, Minnie slapped his arm with the back of her hand. In her opinion, she had enough to deal with without her brother adding to the pile. She’d thought this was a poor lost flock of sheep. Not an intentional group of … magic shapeshifting squatters. “So are Sam and Dean the only ones you hurt, or …?”

Jacob heaved a slow sigh. Minnie had a point. If they had left behind more than just Sam and Dean, it would be dangerous having the shapeshifters around Lilliput too. “Yeah, I mean. I’m pretty sure I can outrun you guys, but what’s to stop you from sneaking along later and trying something again? Are Chase and Minnie here in danger because they know your secret?”

The ram’s mouth twisted in annoyance. “All we want is green fields and calm waters,” he explained. “Any Blefuscans that we ran into, we ran off, nothing more. These… hunters that followed us were the most persistent, and I couldn’t risk the safety of my flock. Throwing them off the ship was only done as a last resort.”

Looking over the rest of the flock, and a brief glance at the twitchy Jerimiah, the ram shook his head in doubt. “Perhaps it was merely a pipe dream to find a place free of warmongering, but we had to try.”

“So…” Sam tentatively leaned forward. “Your main plan is to get as far from civilization, and stay there?”

“Sammy…” Dean started, but was ignored.

The ram nodded. “It seemed like a more likely situation to find in Lilliput compared to Blefuscu. Such an idyllic land…” He turned to Chase and Minnie. “No one here is at risk from my flock, I give you my word. Even if we get sent back to Blefuscu.” The last statement was said with a sideways glance at Dean.

The guy seemed genuine enough. Having lived in Lilliput for a bit, Jacob knew the locals to be fussy but harmless. They would likely be too caught up in their own drama to notice an extra flock of sheep up past the hills, especially since no one really wandered this far anyway. He decided that he believed the stern little guy.

It wasn't really up to him, though. He lowered his hands a bit, not enough to put his passengers at risk but at least to bring them more level with the ram. "Whatcha think, Chase? Minnie?"

"It's weird," Chase said, practically bursting for an opening to speak up. "Sheep-people .... sheepshifters!"

Minnie smacked his arm. "How is that helping?" she scolded, before addressing the ram again. "I don't think anyone uses these pastures so you won't get anyone upset. But will you even be safe out here? From wolves and things, I mean?"

The ram looked down his nose at her. “Wolves have been our problem since the start,” he said with a sharp look sent in Dean’s direction. “We haven’t been able to shake them yet.”

Sam stepped between Dean and the ram with an arm to separate them, before thoughtless words could be thrown. “If we leave you be, does this mean you’ll leave the Lilliputians alone?” he asked, trying to keep the focus. “We’re only here to deal with threats.”

The ram sighed. “We won’t bother a soul, you have my word. So long as we have our pastures.”

Sam put his arm down. “I think our job’s done then,” he said. “They’ll just need a safe place to call home now.”

“This works,” Chase agreed, gesturing at the current pasture. Aside from Jacob looming over the field with several people standing on his hands, it was a simple, idyllic view. The area was lush, if a bit wild, and unbothered by Lilliput or Blefuscu. “We even have Jacob here to come check on you sometimes if you need anything.”

Jacob rolled his eyes at being volunteered so easily. It was his lot in life anymore, to have Chase suggest him for any task that needed doing. “I have a pretty easy time getting over here,” he agreed anyway. “If you need supplies.”

Minnie glanced over at Sam and Dean. Sam seemed mollified, though Dean looked as ready for a fight as ever. Looking back at the sheep, she gave them an exaggerated shrug. “Looks like everyone’s okay, so … it all worked out? This time?”

The ram gave Minnie a stiff half-bow, looking uncomfortable with the unfamiliar gesture. “We will hold up our end of the bargain,” he promised.

With a quick shift, the man again turned into a ram. Large, curving horns came out of his forehead first before he fell forward onto a new set of hooves. By the time he hit the ground, he could have blended in with any herd of sheep and proceeded to walk amongst the others. Jerimiah followed suit next. Then, a slowly stirring wave expanded throughout the herd until they were all heading in the same ambling direction.

Sam sighed, blowing out his bangs. “Case closed.”

“Weirdest case ever,” Dean complained. “Almost as weird as running into the actual giant in the lands.” He sent Jacob a side-eye. “Maybe next time we’re in Lilliput, we can enlist some extra help again?” Despite his usual gruff tone of voice, the interest in having a giant helper shone right through.

Chase drew himself up proudly, though he still stood notably shorter than either brother. “We’re totally ready to kick some ass, anytime we’re needed.”

Minnie rolled her eyes. “Preeeetty sure they were asking for Jacob,” she pointed out, nudging Chase with an elbow.

“Hey! I helped!”

Jacob smirked. He’d gotten somewhat used to the surly attitude from Dean. It seemed the little folk over in Blefuscu could be just as excitable as the Lilliputians he’d come to know. Chase and Minnie’s antics were practically a given. “I’m basically a glorified taxi,” he warned. “But I’ll be here.”

[docfuture]

Princess, part 8

     [This story is a prequel, set several years before The Fall of Doc Future, when Flicker is 16.  Links to some of my other work are here.  Updates are theoretically biweekly–going to try to get the next one out by mid-March.]

Previous: Part 7

      Journeyman ran his fingers through his hair and sighed as he looked at the picture Flicker sent to his handcomp.       "Yep, that's her," he said.  "Dr. Reinhart has a rep of knowing a lot about how minds are put together--and how to take them apart.  She seems to be effectively immune to mental influence and hostile probability manipulation--no, I don't know how she manages that--and I've heard enough complaints to believe that she can mess up Diviners and Seers just by being near what they're trying to see.  Not sure about Oracles.  Also, she's hard to kill.  If she's willing to help you, I doubt she'd be a weak point."       "That sounds good.  Except that the Database says her specialty is mind control.  But I guess she concentrates on defense?  That part wasn't clear."       "A lot about her isn't clear," said Journeyman.  "She is very good at using fear, though.  General opinions I hear about her are mixed.  I have connections, and while I keep them private, the general idea isn't a secret--I swap gossip, assistance, and so forth, move things around, and link people with what they need, all fairly quietly.  Dr. Reinhart clearly has connections, but nobody knows how they work.  She can show up somewhere, have coffee with a few folks, and sometimes everything stays quiet, and sometimes all hell breaks loose.  Odd accidents, fits of madness, sudden unexplained deaths from no obvious cause, and occasionally 'Blood--blood everywhere!'  And afterwards the details of what happened don't always add up.  Except usually some grim entrenched problem has disappeared.  That part is acknowledged, but she still really puts people on edge.  Oh, and there are rumors that she's seriously annoyed several intelligence agencies, but they're still trying to hire or co-opt her.  Jumping Spider would know more about that than me."       "Well, I needed to talk to Jumping Spider anyway."  Flicker frowned.  "Anything else?"       "I don't doubt Dr Reinhart's competence to advise you about social interaction."  Journeyman looked down.  "Motivation, methods, side effects?  That's over my head, but I would expect some warnings from your AI."       "Why?  Just her reputation?"       "Well... I know Doc is twitchy about mind control, and Dr. Reinhart apparently has issues with his methods.  And the spy stuff."       "She has a negative threat index--that means she's helping.  Doc is pragmatic about that."       "Up to a point."  Journeyman spread his hands.  "Anyway, that's what I can tell you.  Hope it helps."       "Yes."  Flicker sped up to virtual type a response to Dr. Reinhart, then slowed back down again.  "There.  She's traveling, and pretty inflexible about privacy, so it will be at least a few days before I can meet her, regardless."       She stood up from the high speed interface station and glided over to stop in front of Journeyman where he sat on the couch.  He watched her warily.       "Thank you," she said, and paused.  "I'm willing to at least consider rescheduling Speedtest, but I don't want to argue about it right now.   You don't feel safe here and you probably need sleep.  How much did you get last night?"       He shrugged.  "A few hours before you woke me up.  None since."       "Then get sleep, consult your Diviners or whatever, and we can talk more tomorrow."       "Might take a while to find anybody.  If I even can.  Tracking down Diviners is rarely easy."  He looked away.  "And Flicker?  I don't want to argue about it at all.  I'll send what I find to the Database.  Argue with Doc, or Jumping Spider, or Jetgirl, or whoever you need to.  Not me."       "I don't..."  Flicker stopped and swallowed.  "Argue isn't the right word.  It's just the one that sounded human to me.  And my anger isn't really at you, that's just where I attach it.  I think there's something wrong with my human emulation."       Journeyman shook his head.  "No.  Humans make mistakes, and they get angry, and no one should expect anything different.  Least of all me.  This isn't something we can solve.  Sometimes you can't get from where you are to where you want to be."       "And what I want is the problem."       He waved his arms.  "No!  I'm the problem.  I thought I could still finesse a way through, despite everything stacked against it, and I. Was. Wrong.  And that's why I have to go."       "Partner..."  She stopped again.  "Damn.  Having an emotional reaction to that word."       "...Yeah."  He blinked then raised his hand.  "I'm sorry I don't have any magic words for you.  Primum non nocere is all I've got left."       Flicker pulled off her glove and reached out to complete their fingertip touch.       "Take care," he said.       She couldn't find anything to say.  So she just nodded.  Journeyman took a deep breath and teleported out.       A faint whirl of disturbed air, then nothing.       Flicker looked around the room.  It felt far emptier than was reasonable.       *****       Evening back home, pre-dawn in Kenya.  Flicker didn't want to wake up Jonathan or his family, but Chaser was awake and running to greet her as soon as she slowed down.  Flying tackle and friend bites and his ridiculously tiny meow, and they played chase dance and dangle the fuzzy toy the way he liked.  Then he flopped down on her feet and purred as she held him.       Chaser wasn't her cat.  He wasn't anyone's cat.  He was his own cheetah.  But Flicker had rescued him as a kitten, taken him far away from the lions that had killed his siblings.  It wasn't clear what had killed their mother, but life was full of perils for cheetahs, especially when they had to share shrinking habitat with lions.  He stayed with the family of a park ranger, on land Flicker had purchased next to a wildlife reserve.  Extravagant?  Maybe, but it wasn't hard to figure out why she'd identified so hard with an orphan who had social problems with other cheetahs.       Time zones made visits awkward, and they still hoped to reintroduce him back to the wild someday, but in the meantime she could hold him close, and whisper that he was a good cat.  He purred and didn't mind her tears from trying to accept a present that had crumbled unexpectedly, and a hoped for future that had been a mirage.  He didn't judge, didn't care whether she was human or not; she was just his fast friend.       An hour under a slowly brightening sky made the world a slightly better place.  Still not good, but better.       *****       Later evening.  Ghosting through the darkness at 500 kilometers per second.  Flicker was moving fast enough to be effectively invisible, but slow enough to leave no traces behind her.  It fit her mood--she didn't particularly want to be anywhere.  But there was someone she needed to talk to at Doc's.       Superhuman speed implied a superhuman ability to interrupt.  So Flicker and Doc had worked out a protocol that allowed for degrees of urgency and desire to avoid disruption.  'Open door' had a particular implication because of Flicker's dislike of them.  It was a way for Doc to indicate that she could join a meeting in progress, but it would be polite to wait and listen quietly until an appropriate pause, absent an emergency.       At Doc's.  Flicker entered the recovery room next to one of the med labs, sat in one of the chairs, and slowed down.  She didn't say anything.       Jumping Spider was sitting up with her left leg extended.  Something complicated covered the knee--it looked like one of Doc's support and monitoring minibots.  Doc was frowning at a large display showing... Not her leg.  Her left jump boot.  Which wasn't in the room, though her spare pair was.  A quick Database check showed her main boots were down in one of the big fabbers in Doc's workshop being repaired.       "...crash cushioning cells seem to have handled the landing fine," Doc was saying, "and at least blunted the impact. Still..."       "They did the job," said Jumping Spider.  "Sometimes a gust of wind hits you at just the wrong time, and one did, right after I'd hopped off the roof."       "The fourth story roof.  Over icy concrete.  In a blizzard."       "Yeah, it was Tuesday.  Wednesdays are overpasses.  Hi Flicker."       "Hello.  What happened?"       "Nothing major.  I banged up my knee a little yesterday and used the crash guards on my left boot.  Doc's going to give the boots a checkup, recalibrate the jump jets, and--" She turned her head to look at Doc. "Not stay up all night making minor improvements.  Right?"       Doc raised an eyebrow.  "I am most definitely going to run unit tests after the tuneup and the data updates."       "That will only take an hour or two.  And Flicker wants to talk to me anyway."       Flicker didn't understand how Doc's relationship with Jumping Spider worked, except that it did.  It was close, but they usually saw each other only a few times a month.  Jetgirl described it as 'co-conspirators with benefits.'  There had to be more than that after almost two decades, but Flicker didn't get how most more typical relationships functioned either.       "All right," said Doc.  He nodded to Flicker.  "I'll give the two of you privacy, then."       "Thank you," said Flicker.       Doc must have read her expression--or more likely her 'No personal small talk currently welcome' Database flag--and left the room without further comment.  Jumping Spider pulled the swivel arm table with a Database interface over so she could use it.       "We're secure--privacy locked," she said.  "Yes, from Doc too.  Check."       DASI was insistent on leaving up the warning flag on Flicker's visor about limiting Doc's access in his own HQ, but she confirmed the privacy lock.       "Verified," said Flicker.       "Now we can talk," said Jumping Spider.  "My knee isn't much worse than usual.  But I heard you are.  Doc says you seem determined to push a hazardous test series on short notice and you don't look happy.  Did Journeyman just turn you down or did you manage something stupider?"       Jumping Spider could be tactful.  She usually chose to be blunt with Flicker.  They weren't friends, but Flicker tried to listen to her advice, because she was right far too often to ignore.       "Both," said Flicker.  "I don't think I have a partner anymore."       "You don't think?  Want to tell me what happened?"       "No.  But I should.  I'd been pushing patrols for a while and was off duty yesterday when I got an alert that Hermes was back..."       Flicker summarized the mess of the last two days, with a pause while Jumping Spider watched the vid of the handover of Hermes at the Box.  It was even less pleasant to explain than she'd expected.  She had to bounce up to speed mind several times to maintain her composure while staying on track.  Jumping Spider said she would save any questions for later, which was just as well.       "...and after he ported out," Flicker finished, "I did memory assimilation work, then visited with Chaser until the Database told me you were available.  It's been a long day."       "It sure has," said Jumping Spider.  "The Database security AI called me for help.  It needed a human other than Doc with the right clearance level bad.  You ignored warnings, bypassed the blocks, and managed to set off a cross-domain priority conflict and a legacy conflict this afternoon.  Why settle for one crisis at a time when you can have more?"       "Um.  Those were for something that actually helped."       "A book that flaunts that it's full of traps in the dedication and you're sure it helped?"       "Well... I'm running sims."       "Yeah.  You do that."  Jumping Spider smiled sardonically.       "Why was the cross-domain priority conflict so bad, anyway?"       "Because the AI was forbidden from telling Doc about something in one domain, and required to tell him in another--and he's normally the one that resolves those conflicts.  And you were no help, because you were causing it.  So it had to call me, because I was the next person in line with clearance.  I figured I'd better drop what I was doing to deal with what you stirred up.  Doc was already on the way to get me when you sent your message about Dr. Reinhart--his flying car does come in handy sometimes.  And I have heard of her.  But I need to do some Database poking before I'm willing to make a judgement, so are you up for doing some tedious but necessary work to help me fill in a few holes?  It would make up for what I had to drop, and let me test something."       "Depends.  What kind of work?"       "Spying.  Under the direction of someone who knows what she's doing.  That's why most of it will be boring.  But it will also involve a lot of purposeful running around, which I'm guessing you could use.  You've amply demonstrated how fast you go stir-crazy.  I want to double check some clues to whatever was wrong at the Box that they didn't want you to see, and have you take a quick look in some other places.  I expect a lot of verification of negatives, or whatever is in the Database, but I have a nasty suspicious mind and suspiciously nasty things have been happening."       "...Yeah.  Okay.  It'll be slower in the dark, though."       "Oh, some parts will be in daylight."       Flicker waited a moment, and the Database projected the outline of a list that was far too long to fit on her visor display.  It started with a survey of just who was staking out the home of the magician she'd talked to at the Box, and included whole sets of vehicles and buildings associated with spy agencies and less identifiable groups.       "All right," she said, and headed out.       *****       Flicker settled into a rhythm.  Slow down, take action, verify, speed up, move on.  And consider her life, while she moved.       Human--for some value of human that was possible for her--was part of what she wanted to be.  Speed and motion were a much bigger part of who and what she already was.  Human was an illusion, an emulation.  A load bearing one.  Maybe even a necessary one, in the long term.  But she wasn't good enough yet.  If the last few days had proved anything, it was this.       She'd read various versions of a joke about how many people stopped growing up and just started faking it after about age fourteen.  Even humans sometimes had to fake being adult humans.  And that went to the essence of what she thought Journeyman had been trying to say.  For her to connect, to feel, to be the person she wanted to be, meant being socially human.  But to relate as an equal, as a full partner, as... well there weren't proper words, but to connect fully with him meant being a responsible adult.       And Flicker couldn't manage both at the same time.  Not yet.  She could fake it for a while, but push too hard?  Add the stress that came with being who she was in the world she lived in?  Her emulation broke down.  Humans used age as a proxy for responsibility, and she'd been fixated on the unfairness of that.  But all the advice, the common wisdom, assumed you were human.  And social support was centered on 'normal' human, for an extensive and arbitrary set of dimensions of normal.       But if she gave up on human, if she fully accepted that there was no one like her, that she was alien to this world of odd bipeds, she risked finding the breaking point of the fragile thread of empathy that connected her to that world.  Because they could be so foolish, so cruel to one another, so ignorant, so blind.  Doc had always been very clear about the danger in that.  And the Volunteer had spent a whole day talking her down from the edge, after her big fight with Doc, when she'd wanted to act, to treat the world like a dysfunctional terrarium that cried out for intervention to stop the evil, the oppression, the war, the starvation and brutality and shortsightedness and indifference, all the so very unnecessary pain, outside the narrow range of actions allowed for a superhero.       The most frightening part of that day had been seeing the edges of some of the Volunteer's load-bearing illusions.  The ideals that let him help the things he could, as an alien in a world of humans.  But those illusions couldn't be hers.  Because she was more alien?  She didn't know.  She did know they'd broken others who had tried.       She needed to find her own way.  While she could still care.  Because if she stopped caring, it would be way too easy for her to go over any one of several edges.       Maybe Dr. Reinhart could help Flicker find better ways to connect to humans.  But she also needed to learn more about who, and what, she already was.  The limits and idiosyncrasies of her power and being.  Doc hadn't stopped her experiments because they'd reached any firm conclusions.  He'd stopped them because they'd become too dangerous to continue on Earth.       How fast was she, really?  What new realms of sense and ability were beyond the limits she needed to maintain on Earth?  The aim of Speedtest was to find out.  It was the only thing she looked forward to now that was truly hers.  It was past time.       *****       More than an hour and numerous additions to the list later, Flicker was finally done.  She'd spent a lot of the extra time following up discrepancies in Italy.  There was a messy but still relatively quiet political crisis going on there, triggered by some combination of Hermes' rampage in Rome, the identity and contacts of the now dead magician who had summoned him, recriminations over the botched response that had resulted in his death, and a long-simmering conflict over the reasons that Italy didn't currently have any resident superheroes.       She'd taken a brief moment to ghost over to the shop in Florence where she'd gotten takeout gelato with Journeyman to celebrate first becoming partners.  It was still closed in the first hint of dawn light.       Sentimental human indulgence.  Was there a point?  Maybe there would be again, someday, a time when it would mean more than something she'd thought she'd lost, but never really had.  But for now, it was closure.  Acceptance.       She headed back to Doc's HQ and decided against speeding up.  Speedtest would be soon enough, and there was no point in leaving a bright plasma trail that could set off alarms for satellite watchers who might wonder why she was hurrying across the Atlantic at night.       *****       "I recommend that you agree to Dr. Reinhart's conditions," said Jumping Spider.  She sipped from her coffee cup and eyed the Database display in front of her with mild disapproval.  "She's right about the amount of inconvenience adjusting her work around advising you will be."       "You think she's safe?" asked Flicker.       "Heh.  No.  I think she's followed consistent goals, and she's functional, competent, as expert as you're going to get, skilled at error recovery, and very smart.  Smart enough to understand just how vital and risky giving you psych advice will be.  But don't try spying on her.  She didn't think much of your failure to consider the consequences of stalking Journeyman."       Flicker frowned.  "How do you know that?"       "I talked to her while you were gone."       Jumping Spider paused, waiting to see if Flicker would ask a question.  She sped up.  Her human emotion emulator indicated her nominal reaction would be anger or irritation.  Human emotions weren't serving her very well lately, so she ignored it.  It would be a drop in the bucket compared to everything else, anyway.       DASI?  Anything security relevant that I need to know about Jumping Spider contacting Dr. Reinhart?       No.       Well, that was unambiguous.  She'd asked Jumping Spider for her professional assessment as an intelligence expert, and it was clear she was testing Flicker's self-control, too.  She slowed back down.       "Go on."       "It was an illuminating conversation.  She referenced some of my more subtle tradecraft tricks like an academic being careful about citation footnotes.  If you focus on her advice rather than trying to emulate her, respect boundaries, and maintain a healthy level of skepticism about untested theory, I think her aid will help you.  Once she's ready to meet--it will be at least a week."       "Good to know.  Thank you.  Was the information I verified for you helpful?"       "I don't know yet for most of it.  But your performance was technically adequate while under direct supervision."       Jumping Spider had no qualms about hammering at a point or reminder until she was sure it got through--in this case that Flicker was still bad at the judgement part of spying, however technically skilled she might be.       Flicker nodded.  "Any other suggestions or comments?"       "Do you want my assessment of what happened to Journeyman?  It's speculative, and you may find it upsetting."       "I don't ask for your opinions because I think I'll like them."       A snorted laugh.  "Okay.  I think Hermes' arrival was part of an op, and was deliberately timed to coincide with whatever Journeyman did just before exfiltrating.  I also think we're unlikely to ever get enough evidence to prove that.  From an operations viewpoint, I think Journeyman got entangled and dragooned into something far more dangerous than he'd ever voluntarily agree to, but all sides--and I definitely think there were more than two--in the conflict that might have wanted him dead knew he had your backup, and that's why he lived.  Tell me.  If demons had killed him in some dimension you could get to, what would have been your first impulse?"       "Burn it to the ground, then burn the ground," said Flicker.       "That's the sort of thing Oracles and Seers pick up on.  But since he came back alive, you're much less inclined to do anything disproportionate, right?  Because attribution is much tougher, even if an attack is aimed at you or Doc.  And there will be probably be completely uninvolved people living in the same place even if you do know who is responsible."       "...Yes."       "That's also the sort of thing Oracles and Seers pick up on.  I also think that whoever Journeyman believes is your mother is part of one of the sides, and that an opposition tactic that he fears is a framing attempt to deflect any retaliation onto her.  And he got dragged deep into the wilderness of mirrors, no longer fully trusts his own judgement, and didn't want to drag you there, too.  I'll give him credit for that."       Flicker sped up to consult the Database.  'Wilderness of mirrors' was an intelligence term for living in a state of perpetual uncertainty about a messy mix of hard to attribute hostile action and coincidence.  Just the sort of thing she hated.       "Great.  So, was he being deceptive about--No. There's no point it getting angry about any of it again until I can talk to Dr. Reinhart."       "You're learning.  And you stopped Hermes without killing him or anyone else, Journeyman got back alive, you didn't lose it when he disengaged--which was inevitable--and it's much harder to attack someone who's in a different dimension.  And you know who is at home in the wilderness of mirrors?"       "You?"       "Dr. Reinhart.  I do all right, but I suspect you'll get along better with her."       "Okay.  Thank you for your assessment.  Do you think I should delay Speedtest because of Journeyman's warning?"       "Because of his warning?  Are willing to put it off indefinitely?"       "No."       "Then no, because he didn't tell you anything actionable.  But whether it's a good idea at all is not my call.  Talk to Doc."       "I will," said Flicker.  "Jumping Spider?"       "Yes?"       "This was... less unpleasant than talking to you usually is."       She smiled.  "Don't worry.  I'll make it up to you next time."       Flicker shook her head, but felt her mouth want to twitch in response.  Human wasn't something you could just turn on and off...       She headed out to find Doc.

Next: Part 9

[sunshineandfangs]

Hey! Can you write a sequel to the one with Caroline writer and artist klaus . The one about seashell bra or something. Pls

Two part mini-sequel to قلم قدرتمندتر است second part will be a flash forward to some smut. (I wanted to put a read more but it’s broken?) Mini-sequel to Tragoudó (Deep Sea Fishing) can be found here

---

Caroline was still in awed, shock that her bat shit insane idea actually worked. And yet here she stood in front of the gallery that changed everything, several weeks after her last visit and significantly happier with her mother in full remission. 

She could do without the feelings of awkward embarrassment though, knowing she had acted like a complete lunatic. Perhaps it was idiotic of her to come back and try to explain herself, well aware of just how insane her claims would sound. And even if he did believe her, what then?

Like yes, she tested her abilities extensively of course, she’s not an idiot! Some fucked up secret government experimentation or something wouldn’t be possible when she could just literally overwrite it. And thinking words in her head, even in complete sentences, wasn’t enough. She did have to write/type something so it wasn’t uncontrolled. (Thank god!)

But... Well it still all seemed so crazy. Even to her! The one living with the proof of everything! God, what was she doing? This was stupid, wasn’t it? Yeah, she should just go home and-

“You are aware you’re blocking the entrance?”

Caroline jumped and whirled around, frantic apologies dying on her lips as she processed just who was behind her. Yup, her luck was just fantastic. It was him. The person she both wanted to explain things to and avoid, never to be seen by him ever again ever.

Alas...

She tried to withhold her cringe, offering a smile that she had a feeling was more of a grimace.

“Um, could we talk? I know that you probably think I’m some sort of crazy person, and I’m so sorry that the last time I was here I all but had a meltdown-” She sucked in a breath, aware that she was starting to ramble and it definitely wasn’t helping her case. Exhaling, she started again, slower this time. “Right, sorry I realize that probably doesn’t lend credence to the idea that I’m not crazy. But yes, I would like the chance to explain. I totally understand if you’re not comfortable with that so just say the word and I’ll go.”

She felt a bit steadier as she met his gaze, the burning red blush and twitchy cringes gone from her face.

---

Klaus wasn’t sure why he said yes. By all rights he should throw the girl out, her behavior having been downright manic the last time he saw her. Perhaps it was because he still remembered the feeling he got when he first saw her, as if she was a true Muse out of legend. Regardless of reason, he did say yes, which was how he found himself sitting across from her in the gallery office, gaping at her rather unattractively.

With extreme effort, he managed to smooth his expression. “I certainly hope you have more proof then just this wild story.”

---

She considered it a win that Klaus was still talking to her, asking for proof rather than just kicking her out on the spot. Or worse.

“Well, I would be willing to write something out for you, something that you choose, so you can see if it happens. Then it just depends on how likely you are to chalk it up to coincidence.”

The man’s eyebrows were nearly in his hairline, but he seemed surprisingly willing to go along with it.

“...Alright then, sweetheart, write...”

--- SMUT Time Skip ---

Minor bondage and orgasm denial, some spanking

Caroline grinned as she offered Klaus her wrists, teasing him as he wrapped the black silk ties around them.

“We really save a fortune on our sex life, don’t we?”

He raised an eyebrow expression wry. “Quite. Although I don’t recall when unbreakable silk ties that double as orgasm control hit the market.”

She giggled, well aware it was true. Not only did they have a supernaturally fantastic collection of sex toys and gear, but also downright impossible pieces like the aforementioned silk ties. Unbreakable and inescapable except by safe word (said by either her or Klaus) that also prevent orgasm while in contact with a person’s skin.

Caroline was snapped out of her thoughts as Klaus tugged her to him, eliciting a slight moan from her as her bare nipples rubbed against the firm planes of his chest.

He nuzzled into her neck as he purred, “That’s more like it, love. For as delightful as I find your laughter, it’s not the sound I wish to hear from you right now.”

Klaus slowly walked her backward, brushing his hand teasingly against her thigh and ass, distracting her enough that she lost track of their location. He smirked when he tumbled her onto the bed, looping the loose fabric around the temporary hook in their headboard.

“Now that I have you at my mercy, whatever shall I do?”

Caroline rolled her eyes, well aware that he already knew exactly what he wanted to do.

She yelped when he suddenly pinched her nipple. “Tsk tsk, love. Only bad girls are so rude, and bad girls don’t get to come.”

“Klaus,” she groaned, arching up and trying to press her breast against his hand, but he just tsk-ed at her again.

“You really don’t learn do you?” He asked, releasing her nipple and swiftly flipping her over, the ties twisting easily. “Not only do bad girls not get to come, they also get punished.”

Caroline jolted when his hand came down on her ass, the sting as sharp as the sound. She subtly pressed back against his palm as he rubbed her heated skin.

Crack

Another slap came down on the other cheek. And he didn’t let up, giving her eight more as she tried to not squirm in her bonds, feeling heat in more than just her ass.

“Hm, this is a lovely color on you, sweetheart, but...” She moaned as he swiped a finger through her cleft, catching the obvious slick of her arousal. “Not much of a punishment, now is it?”

“Nooo,” she sighed out.

He flipped her again and she peered up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, licking her lips when they landed on his erect cock.

Klaus chuckled down at her. “Bad girls certainly don’t get to have my cock.”

Caroline fluttered her lashes at him, moving her lips into a slight pout. “Please, Klaus? I’m sorry I was rude earlier. I promise I can make it up to you.”

He bent over her, caressing her cheek and pulling at her bottom lip with his thumb. “Is that so, love? I’m afraid words alone mean nothing, but if you want to make it up to me...”

She nodded eagerly, her core clenching around nothing as a wicked expression crossed face. What was he planning?

“If you are truly sorry, then there are more useful things your mouth can be doing than offering empty promises.”

Her eyes widened as she internally cursed his deviousness. Rather than crawling closer to the headboard, Klaus turned around, maneuvering until she could easily take his cock in her mouth while his breath tickled her clit.

Fuck.

Her stomach twitched as Klaus’ hands ran slowly down her thighs, spreading them wider as his nose just barely brushed against her sensitive flesh. The sensation far more a tease than real stimulation.

“Well, sweetheart? Take me in your mouth”

He was really too good at distracting her, though Caroline was happy to obey this order. She parted her lips to take the head between them, giving a little flick of her tongue against his slit, tasting the salt of his pre-cum.

She whimpered around him as he mimicked her, wet heat swiping once through her folds. Tilting her head, she took him deeper, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked. Her efforts reward when Klaus did the same to her clit. 

Pleasing her partner while being pleasured by him was rapidly tightening the coil in her belly. Chasing the sensation, Caroline put more effort into it, varying her suction, pulling back to swirl her tongue around the tip, delicately scraping her teeth against raised veins.

Her moans vibrated down his length as his own skilled tongue teased her, his attention switching between her clit and her folds. Sometimes delightful warm suction and other times wet heat lapping at her dripping arousal.

She felt him tense above her, heard his warning, and took him even deeper. Swallowing around him. Once. Twice. The third time accompanied by a groan of her name as he released his seed down her throat.

He slipped from her mouth as he re-positioned them, her own core aching with her release out of reach. 

“Good girl, Caroline,” he muttered, his lips shiny from his efforts. “Good girls get rewards,” he continued before pressing a dominating kiss to her mouth. They each tasted themselves and each other as their tongues dueled, a hotter thought than it had the right to be. Especially as she still hadn’t come.

As if reading her mind, Klaus pulled back slowly, his eyes dark, pupil swallowing all but a thin ring of blue. “I had more plans for you, my love, but I’m afraid I’ve gotten impatient.”

Her legs spread in anticipation as she felt the hard press of him against her folds. He teased her a little, nudging at her clit and sending sparks up her spine, gliding through the slick of her folds, inner walls clenching in desire.

“Klaus, please,” she begged.

“Tell me what you want, Caroline,” he demanded, pressing against her entrance, refusing to penetrate her, no matter how she writhed under him.

“You!” She cried out in frustration. “I want your cock inside me! I want you to fuck me into this mattress until all I can remember is your name! KlaUS!”

Her cry of his name became a shout as he plunged into her in one smooth stroke, her arousal easily accommodating him. The stretch felt delicious and she clamped around him, wanting to feel every inch of his cock inside her.

“That’s it, love,” he cooed, before he set a brutal pace, giving her exactly what she had asked for. Each thrust shook the bed and rattled her teeth, his cock slamming with unerring accuracy against all the most sensitive places inside her. She clenched down around him, loving the friction, and she hitched her legs up to wrap them around him, trying to keep him buried within her.

“More! Harder! Klaus!”

His pubic bone impacted her clit as he obeyed her, his hand slithering up her sides to caress her breasts. She threw her head back as his mouth bit and sucked at her nipple, heat burning through her core, the slick slaps sounding obscene and still the ties kept her suspended on the precipice. 

Caroline thought she heard something but her senses deserted her as she shrieked, vision going white. Her suddenly free hands dug into his shoulders as she spasmed around him. Spine arching as she pressed up against him, trying to get even closer as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.

“Klaaauusssss!”

Heat pooled within her, his own release that she hadn’t processed in her ecstasy. Slowly she came back down, the aftershocks fading. Her tense form unclenched as she slumped boneless into the sheets, panting and dazed.

“God, I think that was the best orgasm I ever had,” she mumbled. Easily rolling as Klaus pulled her into his arms, both settling on their sides, while he slipped out of her. She pressed a kiss to his neck, eyelids feeling heavy. “Give me a few moments, I totally want a turn...”

Her words trailed off as she passed out. (Though she got her demanded turn in the morning.)

---

List of current and upcoming sequels here.

[vickyvicarious]

the activity club and the abrupt intruder (bmw 5)

bullymagnet week, day five: pokémon 

read day one, day two, day three, and day four first. also available on AO3.

.

Johnny’s recovery rate is, frankly, disturbingly quick. He gets a bit stuck on the whole zombie thing same as Max did, but is fairly swift to move on to the takeaway of superpowers and weirdo spirit fights.

Actually he gets really really excited about the prospect of weirdo spirit fights.

Which is… not really that much of a surprise.

Max doesn’t have any of the Activity Club members’ numbers memorized yet, so in the end he tells Johnny to meet up with him tomorrow morning and he’ll introduce him to the rest of the club. They part ways at dusk, with Max offering to walk Johnny home since he’s probably seeing a lot of weird stuff he’s not used to, and the bully reddening and viciously refusing the offer. Max didn’t mean to wound his pride, and if Johnny really has been seeing things for a few days now he guesses the suggestion was unnecessary anyway, but he still felt the need to make it. Watching Johnny walk off into the near-night, he finds that he wants to follow, to spend a little more time with someone else who is just as new to this spirit stuff as he is. Johnny is definitely going to be even more wild with spectral powers, probably, but it’s kind of exciting to imagine doing something like hitball with Johnny in the know this time around. They made a decent team, after all.

The upshot is that he’s pretty excited to go to school in the morning. Isaac is at the store buying breakfast again so they head to school together, and Max feels like he’s buzzing the whole way. He wants to share the news, but he also wants to see the look on everyone’s faces all at once, and besides he’s still determined to be petty to Isaac at least a few times today, so he keeps quiet. It’s pretty clear Isaac can tell something is up, given the sidelong glances he keeps giving Max, and the multiple times he almost says something.

Actually, Max realizes fairly swiftly upon arriving at school that he must just suck at playing it cool today, because it’s barely been five minutes with them all in the same room before Isabel turns to him.

“What’s gotten you so twitchy this morning?” she asks bluntly.

“I- I am not twitchy,” Max says indignantly. He hears a noise in the hall, and half-turns to see if Johnny is here yet.

Ed snorts loudly.

“Son, you’re twitchier ‘n a rattler’s tail,” he drawls. Spender makes a disgusted face at him, muttering about getting ‘enough of that already’, but Isaac just nods solemnly.

“Seriously, did something happen?” he says. “Max, you can tell me.”

“Us,” Spender corrects. “The Activity Club is behind you, Max.”

“Uhhhhhh,” Max says. He may have to reconsider international spy as a career choice if this is how he reacts to being confronted. “Guys, I–”

With perfect timing, Johnny kicks the door open, walks in, and sits down in the middle of the couch. Everyone turns to stare at him instead. He puts his hands in his lap, and takes a deep breath.

“I like fire,” Johnny tells them earnestly.

“…..Th-this isn’t the counselor’s office?” Spender says after a moment, looking a little horrified. Everyone does, to varying degrees. This is not what Max expected, but at least the faces are still hilarious. “Um. Please go see the actual counselor about that.”

“Thought ‘bout it a lot last night, Max,” Johnny continues, unperturbed, “an’ in the end, the answer’s as simple as it always was: fire is the best.”

“I – don’t follow,” Max admits. He’s sincerely hoping the bully’s brain has not broken due to the strain of ghosts being real.

“I picked Charmander,” Johnny snaps, causing everyone in the room to jump. “I picked Cyndaquil, even over that friggin’ croc, I even picked that little chicken which worked out since it turned into a big punching type anyway, I like fire types. I wanna fire type.”

His gaze narrows in on Spender. “Gimme a fire type,” he commands, pounding a fist down onto his opposite palm.

“Wh-what?” Spender whispers. “Is this a prank?”

Max, at this point, cracks.

Only a moment ago, he was right in the same boat as everyone else: concerned for Johnny’s sanity and the safety of a world in which Johnny was a pyromaniac, but as soon as he comprehends what is actually going on here, he bursts straight through into complete and utter hilarity. Like, an immediate gut-hurt of a laugh.

“HA!” he says, and kind of points at Johnny while also clutching at his stomach. “Hahahahaha, no, Johnny- pfffftno, oh man...”

“What?” Johnny says, no actually he’s kind of pouting, oh boy Max is going to bust something all right laughing this hard. “What, you got a cool steel type, I want fire. Like, a fire dog if you got one, with big metal teeth maybe –”

“You’re amazing, Johnny,” Max blurts, grinning so wide his whole face hurts. “No. It doesn’t work like that, okay? This isn’t actually Pokémon.”

“N-never said it was,” Johnny mumbles, face red all over. “Jus’, I mean, you said I could pick a tool an’–”

“Tool?” Spender and Isaac gasp as one.

“It has to match the color of your weird stress smoke though, remember, the spectral energy,” Max reminds.

“Spectral energy?” Spender and Isaac gasp. Still in perfect unison, it’s actually really impressive.

“Well gray is kinda smoky so it’d work for a fire type,” Johnny insists stubbornly. “Look, I dunno why yer laughin’ at me, you’re the one who told me last night spectrals are like Pokémon trainers–“

“I DID NOT,” Max laughs, so hard now that he has to shut his eyes and put a hand on his face and it still does not one iota of good at keeping the giggles in check. “I- I said spirits look like weird Pokémon, sometimes, and also sometimes like eldritch nightmares or cute little sea creatures, I mean – do you really think I’m gonna be spinning my hat around yelling ‘I choose you baseball bat?’”

“…sounds kinda fun though…” Johnny mumbles, sounding a little distracted. When Max opens his eyes, Johnny’s looking straight at him, face still really red, but smiling a little. It’s the nice one, like he had yesterday, the one Max really sort of likes actually.

“Yeah, all right,” he agrees, smiling back. “It kinda does.”

“…I see,” Ed says thoughtfully. “Johnny’s a spectral now and got you to dig him, Max. Nice job!”

He aims a thumbs-up at Johnny, who gets this smug little grin and shrugs, like, ‘no big deal.’

“Uh, dig what?” Max asks. “Huh?”

When he looks at Johnny for an explanation, the other boy avoids his eyes and a lot of gray smoke begins billowing out from his body in wild directions.

“JOHNNY’S A SPECTRAL NOW,” Isabel shouts ecstatically. She bounds across the room to yank Johnny into a hug, then back again to grab Max up, finally pinballing back to cling to Ed in glee, a whirlwind of affection too swift to counter. “Two new spectrals in like a week, this is so amazing I can’t believe it.”

“Johnny’s a… spectral now…” Spender mumbles. “Johnny.” His voice is rising now with, yep, that right there’s a clear edge of panic. “Johnny Jhonny is a spectral who likes fire.”

“I mean I’m not sayin’ I’ll join your dumb club or whatever,” Johnny grins, settling back into the couch, smoke dissipating around him. “Jus’ I want more superpowers so I can punch zombie ghosts too. Max said he’s nearly died like three times already, it sounds sick.”

“You knew about this, Max?” Isaac asks. There’s a weird nervous look on his face. “When did it happen? When, uh-”

“That time ya thought I was dead after I fell on that rock and kicked lightning at nothin’,” Johnny suggests, “was weird.”

“Y-you probably eat a lot of citrus don’t you!” Isaac grins shakily, avoiding looking at Spender. Max wants to tell him not to bother, as the teacher is clearly in shock, but this conversation is too amazing to interrupt. He sits down on the couch next to Johnny to get a better view.

“Ooh, and that time you got a picture of us all floating in the sky on the ghost train, right,” Ed interjects fairly casually. Isabel squeaks a little. Maybe a lot.

“Yeah that too,” Johnny agrees.

Spender has begun to moan, a low, wordless plea.

“But mainly that thing on yer arm after hitball,” Johnny says, nudging Max with an elbow, “was kinda squishy-looking, and purple-”

“That’s PainKiller,” Max tells him, making sure to emphasize the cool name. “It’s a little octopus that eats all your pain, there was one on your head when I first met you.”

Johnny is appropriately impressed by this.

“Diesel,” he judges, before continuing. “Anyway I see them and I’ve already punched one sorta, it was fun. I want a tool too.”

Lefty didn’t really count even as a sorta to Max’s mind, since he blocked every punch, but he won’t put it past Johnny to have gotten into a fight with a spirit on the way to school this morning, so he doesn’t try to make any corrections there.

Instead, he just sits there, mostly quiet except for the occasional smart remark, as the rest of the Activity Club try to pull themselves together in the wake of the cannonball known as Johnny. Ed is the only other person even slightly composed by the end of the meeting, and he holds Johnny back in the room for a second after everyone else leaves. Johnny grabs onto the back of Max’s shirt, not that he would have left anyway. He’s pretty curious about how these two know one another.

“…Your friends all saw that picture of us floating, too,” Ed points out in a quiet voice. “Why didn’t you mention them today?”

Max blinks. That didn’t even occur to him – but, as he looks sideways to Johnny standing next to him, he feels almost like he’s slipped back a few days to that moment in the middle of hitball, when he asked since when Johnny cared about rules.

“They figured it was CGI,” Johnny says with a big innocent smile, but Max hears I don’t and understands that Johnny’s gang has already been informed of everything. He thinks, with a sudden rush of warmth, that Johnny probably decided not to officially join the club as early as last night when Max told him what really happened during hitball.

His dad was maybe onto something about Johnny’s hands being good at protecting people, when he wants.

“Oh, cool!” Ed says, right back to chipper, and trots out of the room with a wink and a wave. It’s impossible to tell if he believes the blatant lie or not, at least for Max who still doesn’t really get the kid. Johnny moves to follow, but this time Max is the one to grab his shirt and hold him back.

“Wh-what?”

“You might be a bad guy,” Max says, though he’s not entirely sure of even that, anymore, “but you make a pretty good friend.”

Johnny’s face goes very red again, but this time he doesn’t stumble over his words.

“It’s me that’s lucky to have them,” he says firmly, and okay. Wow. Max still doesn’t approve of the bullying, but he’s starting to like Johnny more and more anyway. He’s kinda really glad Johnny wants to be his friend.

“I dunno,” he hums, walking around Johnny to head out the door. “I think that probably goes both ways.”

And he leaves, smiling (and feeling more than a little proud of that exit), Johnny’s gaze warm on his back all the way down the hall.