#also someone remind me to smack constantine when this is all over

[hypewinter]

The observants tried to control Danny from the moment he ascended the throne. Eventually he got fed up and fled to Earth. The observants get scared that he'll figure out how to strip them off their rank and thus enlist the help of the Justice League to track him down. They claim he is a blood thirsty tyrant. This is backed up by Constantine who still thinks Pariah is King. Meanwhile Jason finds a trembling teen in an alleyway. His eyes look so devoid of purpose. He somehow reminds Jason so much of himself that before he realizes it, he's inviting the teen back to his safe house.

[phantoms-lair]

Batman Exalted thing-JLD Interlude

Note: Takes place before Bruce's Exaltation

Five people sat at the table, Jason Blood, Zatanna, and Constantne sat of one side, Batman and his 'guest' on the other.

Zatanna sighed and broke the silence. "It's not going to work"

"It's not?" Quill said in a small voice, her entire demeanor crushed.

"Can we rework it so it can?" Batman inquired.

Constantine snorted. "No amount of reworking is going to fix that." He smacked the folder in front of him with the back of his hand, making Quill looked even more dejected.

Jason Blood closed his eyes is exasperation. "As much as I hate to say it, Constantine is right. The working itself is a fascinating piece of magic, and if it could be accomplished would work as intended but..."

"But?" Batman prompted.

"She wasn't joking about not being able to power the damn thing herself. The problem is the whole Greek Pantheon working in perfect harmony couldn't power this bloody thing." Constantine threw his hands up.

"So even if this 'Ketchup' person does manage to give you a yours a magical boost, it wouldn't be anywhere near enough." Zatanna explained. "And if we reworked the ritual to a reasonable power requirement, it wouldn't be strong enough to do what it has to.

Quill bit her lip. "Okay, but consider-" She closed her eyes is focus and a glowing light began to emerge in a halo around her. The glowing like began to form images. Scene from stories -some Batman knew and some he didn't. But while it seemed like a mere light show to him, Justice League Dark members apparently saw something else.

Jason Blood's face had gone pale, Zatanna has scooted her chair back, and Constantine's jaw was hanging open and his ever-present cigarette had fallen onto the table.

"I am a mid tier Exalt at the most generous interpretation." Quill explained "And that interpretation is very situational. So probably any Exaltations Kejack arranges would be more powerful that me."

"How?" Jason Blood asked.

"Well, Exalted were originally create to fight the things that created the gods. And one of our main purposes in modern times is telling gods who get too uppity to sit down and shut up." Quill looked fidgety and increasingly uncomfortable.

"Are you alright?" Batman asked gently.

"I want to tell the story. They whole story of the birth of Creation, the Primordial War, all of it. It's like a compulsions as the Chosen of Stories. But's it's long and probably not relevant, so I shouldn't bother anyone."

"I'll hear it when the meeting is over." Batman promised.

Quill lit up, but tried to tap it down. "But you have so much to do."

"This story is about the origin of Exaltations, hearing it would be doing needed research."

"I gave you the bare bones in the folder."

"And I want to hear more to understand the nuance. I'll find you after the meeting." It was a clear dismissal, but Quill couldn't have looked happier as she left.

"What did you see in that light show I didn't?" Batman pressed.

"Power." Jason Blood answered. "Raw power in a way I'd never seen before."

"And if she's low tier? And you lot are going to be more powerful. Bloody hell." Constantine was trying to relight his cigarette, but his hand was shaking too badly.

"With this new information, the ritual will work." Zatanna was trying to remain professional. "But I am concerned about how this will change things afterwards."

"Quill's plan is not ideal, and Quill herself is aware of that. It is, however, workable. I am very open to any other workable ideas, but we also don't know what the timeframe we're looking at is." Batman admitted.

"Well, it's not like the landscape isn't going to rearrange itself once she joins the cape crew anyways." Constantine rolled his eyes, finally getting his lighter to work.

"She won't." Batman said with a tone of finality.

"How can you writer her off so quickly?" Jason Blood inquired. "Her power alone-"

"Power doesn't make someone a hero." Batman said as a not-so subtle reminder that until recently the defenders of Gotham had always been unpowered individuals. "She doesn't have the temperament. She hesitates and second guesses herself. And has very much internalized the power hierarchy in Creation, which puts her as the weakest of the powers. She doesn't trust herself to make a difference." She'd not been able to keep up her calm and collected demeanor for a single conversation before falling apart.

Zatanna sighed. "You're right, a hero with that much self-doubt would be a liability in the field, no matter their power." "She's not a hero. she is, however, a good person. Do you have any other workable solutions."

"Not at this time." Jason Blood sighed. "It's not just the power requirements, this magic functions differently from anything I've ever seen before. With enough time we might find something, but you yourself pointed out we don't know how much time we have. Ketchup may make his move within an hour."

"Please do what you can." Batman implored. "No worries, mate. You boss around Gods well enough as a 'mere mortal'. Don't want to see what happens when you have the power to back it up.

Honestly? Neither did he.

[we-dragons]

I'm from a different dimension actually Chapter 7 Damian x reader

"Ira! I need my emergency kit!" Molly is pulling at my hair with a brush, I grimace at my reflection, she had put pearls and violet gems in my hair. Seeing as it already wasn't long bearly pushing past my ears, even though there aren't many of them in there it ways down in some places. I had already allowed her to put me in a ball gown, which I'm sure costs much more than my apartment building. It reminds me of peacock feathers, purples, greens, blues fill the cloth they blend seamlessly dark purple at the top and ending with blue at the bottom. I look at the matching marbled shoes and guilt climbs through me.

"Molly I don't need makeup, I'm already in a peacock dress, and there are gems in my hair. Besides the mascara is enough I don't want to spend an hour rubbing anything else off." Molly gasps, a hand gripping at her heart.

"Why-how could you say such a thing!" Ira hands Molly her phone, she screams. "We're going to be late! Ira put the bag back!" I'm yanked from my chair and raced down the hall within minutes I'm thrown into a limo with Molly's parents. Molly jumps in starting to yell at the driver shocking her parents who kept telling her to calm down. It doesn't take long to get to Wayne Manor, the courtyard is crowded filled with flashing lights from cameras reporters, and newscasts. They surrounded every inch with an exception of a semi-circle right at the front of the building where the car pulled up. Once more I'm pulled roughly out of the vehicle by molly, I nearly trip going up the stairs.

"Molly dear, we need to go in together!" My friend's mother pants from behind her husband seems to be in a similar position as me. Like mother like daughter.

I pull my arm away from Molly gently and smooth out my peacock dress, I sigh internally finding relief that I had personally told Molly to make the dress so it covered without it being tight. If I didn't then I would be pulling up the fabric like Molly who went not so modest. Not only had she blinged out she full-on black and high heels that pushed out her height. She looked good, and she made her parents match. When her mother finally catches up she puts a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

What happens after the incident leaves me at a table sitting behind a card with my name on it. Molly was seated somewhere else because I had used my own invitation instead of being a plus one. My eyes cast over the room soaking in again the decor of the newly decorated main floor. My energy seems to drain while I watch the people chat dance and laugh. No one was seated at my table and I was slightly relieved but I still felt odd. I had gone to parties with my mom in the past, ones that were held in her honor about her findings. I feel myself relishing in those memories I had looking back at the times she would pull a silly face at me while I was bored at said parties, or told a joke in some of her speeches. My mother was the expert in The Islamic Golden Era, despite not being a Muslim herself. She prided herself on giving credit to those who deserved more but had their work stolen by Europeans. But then, when she went on that Egypt and Greece dig she had found something that unnerved her. I knew what it was, and I wish I hadn't either. My happy thoughts turn sour, and I can feel myself grimace. I am tired...so tired.

"You made it, It's good to see you here." my head whips around falling on emerald eyes.

"Yeah, I had already told Molly that she could take me to the next party she goes to. However, I didn't know that if you came with an invite and not a plus one that you had to sit at a separate table." He snorts and sits down to my right.

"You were originally sat by her but father assumed I needed a friend," He shows me a card with his name on it. "so he changed Grayson out for you."

"Do you not have friends?"

"None close by."

"When have I accepted you as a friend?" He smiles

"That is a good question, but the same goes for me, you more someone I tolerate."

"Same here, Besides your a bad influence."

"tsk,...touche." his gaze looks me up and down and I have the sudden urge to say 'eyes up here'.

"You look tired, would you like to go to the library?"

"Usually libraries and tired people don't mix."

"How about a tour then, we have several artifacts my father has purchased that you might find interesting." He pushes harder.

"You want an excuse to leave, don't you? I thought my main purpose for being here was to talk to Mr.Wayne, not venture into the mansion." He sighs with his own body, visibly exaggerating the movements.

"My father is deeply preoccupied already in another engagement, he won't even be here for hours. Would you prefer to stay here doing nothing or would you like to leave?" He sounds rather annoyed while looking off to his left and scowling more. I follow my eyes to a group of three who I recognize from the cafe, all of them are pointing and smirking. I being to feel more drained at the thought of them coming here and stand. "Your home, where to first?" He shoots up, grabbing my hand dragging me through the dense crowd of people.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Amazing, this would date back to the early years of feudal Japan, this is Greek! Oh! There's a Khopesh and a Canaan Sickel sword on this wall!"

Damian scoffs sounding more like a laugh than a mocking tone. "You can tell the difference." I give him a look, feeling offended.

"Of course I can, you mostly can tell by the markings on the blade." I turn my head back to the wall slowly pointing to the distinguishable pieces of evidence. "This one is older Hebrew, and here you can see small hieroglyphics depicting the sun. Plus the metals on each blade are very different." I tilt my head back to him, his face stays indifferent. "You knew that already didn't you?" He nods and walks again.

"You must really like history, seems like you could talk about it none stop." He calls back.

"Did you forget who my mother was?"

"I thought she specialized in the Islamic golden era."

"It didn't mean she didn't know the history of other peoples. My mother developed research of anything she could get her hands on." I pause for a minute. "What about you, where did you learn."

"I was taught by some of the best in the world, my mother made sure of it."

"I see." We talk more while examining the objects displayed, I had fun just listening to him explain how his father got some of them. Though the collection wasn't huge it still made me a bit happy to see the objects. My phone buzzes, and I quickly take it out of my pocket.

Molly: Hey where are you we need to get going!

Molly: Dad got too drunk and now he's crying about the world.

Molly: We will be outside, Be there.

"Sorry, I have to get going, I'll see you at school later!" I run through the hall and snag as many macarons as I can on the way out. Molly waves from the car opening the door so I slide in faster.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Sorcerer found. Name: Doctor Fate, Subject: host"

"Anyone else?"

"Database shows,... John Constantine, and Zatanna. All other information is unavailable."

"Gather what they have on the crows send probes if you must."

"Proceeding."

Nightmare stands by the window waiting for his queue. I pull a scale out from the box and open the window. I hand him the scale and he chews effectively destroying the small miracle. "Remember stay out of sight if someone spots you wipe it from their memory and if you see a crow take the fight to the in-between and go for the kill. You have a little bit of my power with you only use it when needed." He purrs, rubbing his head on my hand, then jumps. He vanishes. I sigh putting the device in the box marked with an X just in case and push it under my bed. I head out into my living room putting some things away and cleaning here and there. Proud of my work I turn on the TV and sprawl on my sofa with a bowl of popcorn. Reruns of Highlander play on one of my favorite channels, I smile at my luck and sing to the theme song.

*Thunk thunk thunk*

I jump at the sound, I hear the noise again and follow it to my kitchen bat in hand. I flip on the light and smack my face, a very wet robin scowls at me through the glass. Only then did I notice the rain, and I pray that Nightmare is staying safe. I open the door and let him in, he mutters a thank you while walking in dipping water on my floor.

"Not to be rude, but is there something you need?" He ignores me and continues dragging water on the floor to the living room.

"Robin?" I catch up to him, he pulls something out from his ear and stuffs it in his pocket.

"I would like to stay here for a little while"

"How long is a little while, will I need to pull out the bed in the couch?" He gives me a look.

"There's a bed in your couch?"

"Sometimes I want to watch TV while I do my homework, laying down here makes it easier." I go to the bathroom to pull out some towels.

"Where was this when I was heavily injured?"

"I'm sorry, but the fact that you were bleeding was more concerning. I also put new sheets on the bed and you broke a perfectly good window. There is still blood on my cushions, and you wanted me to place you on the bed?" grabbing the biggest fluffiest towel in the bunch walking back out to the living room.

"You still on about that?"

"It was expensive!" I hold out the towel, he takes it and places his yellow cape in my hand. I frown but head to the coat rack hanging the heavy fabric on the highest rung. I feel short noticing its length, I turn back to Robin who's sat down on the couch the large towel engulfing him completely minus his hair. The black strands stuck oddly to his face and drooped sadly, I almost laugh because he looks like a sad cat. Like Nightmare whenever I give him a bath, I think I have a picture of that somewhere. "Did you want something to drink or eat?"

"Why is it that every time I come here you offer something?"

"It's a hospitality thing I got living in Minnesota, it's just being nice. Besides, you work to protect people, don't you? It only makes sense that I offer you something, I doubt you get paid to do your job. I bet you have countless scars from just doing so, I can do my part and help you feel comfortable. Call it a form of respect."

"Tsk."

I stroll into the kitchen, "Well, I suppose I could give some soda, tea, or water after all you left plenty on the floor."

"What happened to respect?"

"Well, I have feelings to sir! Tossing my words aside like that, I shouldn't even feed you." I poke my head back out, I smile at his scowl while he in turn glares at me. "Now for once, I am out of tea but I have several cans of cherry coke and some popcorn and macarons from a party I went to earlier. How about that?"

"That's fine." I hum grabbing what I needed and plopped back down in my seat handing him the coke. I place the brightly colored macarons and some chips I found between us along with the popcorn. I let myself get absorbed into the Highlander again just as MacLeod beheads another immortal and gains his Quickening.

"What is this?" My Jaw drops while I look at him concerned.

"Just how uncultured are you." His face flushes and his face twists he opens his mouth but i stop him. "Say no more, I will be right back." I come out with my computer and pull up VUDU opening season one of the show. "Sit back buckaroo, now your in for the long haul. Now right now all you need to know is 'There can only be one." His face contorts in confusion, but gives in and moves closer.

"I'm not going to get in trouble with Batman am I." He smirks.

"Most likely."

"Dammit."

[xxrainbow-princessxx]

Firm Hand, Soft Heart - Leo x Isabella (N*FW, 🍋)

This fic is for Day 1 of the CFWC Kinktober Challenge

Day 1: Brat Taming | First Time | Aftercare

The words used in bold are included in this fanfic. Please only read if you are comfortable with the subject matter and also you are 18+. PSA completed.

TW: In this fic we will be discussing brat taming, punishment, sub drop and aftercare.

Tagging: @drakewalkerfantasy @itslaniquelove @kingliam2019 @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie @lorirwritesfanfic @lorircreates @hopefulmoonobject @rafasgirl23415 @texaskitten30 @rainbowsinthestorm @desireepow-1986 @speedyoperarascalparty @liam-rhys @choicesficwriterscreations

All under the jump!! ❤️❤️

“You got this big guy...” Liam patted his brother’s shoulder, “I didn’t think she would show... But you’ve always had her wrapped around your little finger anyway...” Leo flashed a bright smile to his brother chuckling, “I’m not so sure about that... before, maybe...” Isabella and Leo hadn’t spoken in weeks after she saw him being snapped by the paparazzi with a statuesque blonde Swedish model draped around him in a nightclub in Monaco, “...but now, I’m not so sure...” Liam gave the Crown Prince a knowing look as he laughed heartily, “You can handle her... Isabella doesn’t listen to reason and seemingly... neither do you...” The brothers watched attentively as the Crown Princess’ thigh high louboutin boots clicked across the marble flooring, surrounded by guards and her father’s advisors in step. Leo winced slightly as his eyes followed her petite frame analysing every curve whilst she walked past in a short black bodycon dress. Isabella’s long chestnut brown hair had been straightened out, bouncing and flowing down her back only added to her polished look. Biting down on his lip, he knew he needed something to help him calm down; she looked good.

Leo’s brow raised as he threw back his measure of Cordonia’s finest apple brandy, warming his chest as the fiery liquid quelled his anxieties. He hated negotiations, he hated having to host anything but Constantine demanded it and knowing that Isabella being there would be difficult in more ways than one, knowing she would bust his balls when given the chance just to test him. Constantine insisted on the meetings, he wanted Cordonia to be put on the map, he wanted the neighbouring Kingdom’s to know that Cordonia was open for business. What Leo didn’t anticipate was the Laurentian Princess’ arrival, swearing blatantly after their last argument she would never step foot in Cordonia again. It didn’t matter that Leo apologised, sent flowers or jewellery, the Princess didn’t want to know returning everything with a delightful note telling him to ‘Fuck off...’ along with anything he sent. Watching the Princess storm through the Cordonian Palace glaring at anyone who looked in her direction, Leo turned to Liam, “Well brother...” barely managing a carefree smile, Leo ran his fingers through his sandy blonde hair, “Wish me luck!”

Leo wasn’t in the mood for any of this, let alone having to deal with the petite brunette’s wicked temper as an addition to his roster of duties. The Laurentian Crown Princess stepped in for her father as a last minute change to his schedule and no matter how much she protested, Isabella knew that she would have to bite the bullet. If it was going to be painful for her, she most certainly wasn’t going to make it easy for Leo. Isabella sat in the drawing room, her lips pursed as her dark chocolate brown eyes glared towards the clock, he was late and he was wasting her time once again. Her eyes narrowed, rolling across to the right as the door finally opened with Leo smiling as if nothing happened pulling on the sleeves of his crisp white shirt fixing his cufflinks, “Good afternoon...” he warmly greeted those in the room, almost chuckling noticing Isabella folding her arms remaining in her seat, “Good to see you Princess...” he teased, sitting opposite her, “The pleasure is not reciprocated...” huffed the brunette, “You’re late...” she bluntly added before pushing forward a list of considerations. Leo’s sea green eyes initially met hers. He tried not to notice the golden speckles of honey that glittered in her irises, accentuated by the sunshine coming through the windows flooding the drawing room with light. Isabella didn’t speak as Leo unfolded the page passed to him, the less she had to speak to him, the better.

Momentarily Leo broke eye contact with Isabella to read her demands. Leaning back on his chair, the Crown Prince bit down on his lower lip chuckling, “Are you trying to insult me? I’m afraid it’s not working...” Isabella rolled her eyes and with a heavy sigh she snapped, “The last time I checked... the world doesn’t revolve around you Señor Rys...” Leo laughed to himself, running his fingers through his sandy blonde hair before he glared at the petite Princess, his voice lowering, laced with authority, “I’ll remind you, that in my Kingdom - it does...” Isabella’s almond shaped eyes slowly narrowed with disgust, Snapping “Fuck you!” to the surprise of their advisors, “Your Royal Highness...” they began to panic, “You... you...” before turning to Leo, “We can only...” Leo stared at Isabella. As she raised her dark, arched brow, Leo knew this wasn’t playing politics for her, this was payback. She was acting up on purpose. The Crown Prince noticed a barely noticeable flicker of delinquency in her eyes, knowing that the petite brunette was getting off on the struggle of power. Sucking in his cheeks, Leo commanded “Can you give me a moment alone with the Crown Princess? Everyone else... out!” Their advisors looked at one another but as the tension grew in the room between the Royals, they finally agreed. “Yes... we’ll reconvene once you both are ready...”

Leo stood as she glared angrily at Isabella, walking across the desk towards her. Purposely Leo kicked the chair that Isabella was sat on, causing her to angrily rise to her feet. The Laurentian Princess raised her hand but Leo held onto her wrist. She watched as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, turning from a sea green to a sparkling emerald. Leo’s voice deepened to a guttural growl, “If you’re going to act like a brat... I’ll treat you like a fucking brat...” his index finger traced her jawline, titling her chin to face him, their eyes locked onto one another, “Or are you going to be a good little kitten and behave?” Isabella pulled her face away as Leo began to smile, “Not the answer I was looking for beautiful...” His fingers traced the side of her neck feeling her breathing hitch slightly, he knew he had her. No matter what he had done, Isabella couldn’t help herself; Leo knew the petite brunette acted out to fuck with men but would submit easily when the attention she wanted came at a price. Carefully, Leo placed his hand around her neck with a very slight pressure as Isabella barked back, “Make me...” She was pushing all of Leo’s buttons but she wasn’t going to win. Not today. He leaned down whispering into her ear, “You want to say that again?” His voice demanded an answer, “Look at me and say it...” the Blonde Cordonian grunted.

Isabella could feel a shiver go down her spine, as the Crown Prince of Cordonia spoke, she knew exactly what she was doing as she looked up into Leo’s eyes with a coy smile, repeating herself, slowly emphasising her words, “Make... me...” almost taunting him into disciplining her. Leo chuckled as his hand rested on her waist, “Kitten...” he began to smile, “You know I’ll fuck the brat out of you if you don’t behave...” Isabella raised her brow in defiance with a coy smile scoffing at the thought but Leo wasn’t in the mood for her bullshit. Spinning the petite Princess around, she let out a squeal as Leo bent her over the table, his hands caressed her back until his fingers entangled through her hair, twisting it as his strong, muscular frame lay against her back, pinning her against the oak table. Leo kissed her neck slowly, lips barely brushing against her skin, whispering so only she could hear, “You know I still love you kitten... don’t you?” Isabella whimpered as Leo’s hands followed the curve of her body, “Talk to me beautiful...” her core was yearning for the Crown Prince’s touch as Leo put Isabella in her place. Leo discovered quite early into their relationship that Isabella had a power play kink. The Princess found control a turn on - very few dared to ever challenge her authority and she tested most men’s patience to an inch of tolerability but Leo knew if he could tap into that want; that need - she would make a very willing little after all of the brattish behaviour was firmly dealt with.

Underneath it all, Leo knew that all Isabella wanted was to be loved for her, to feel safe and someone to take the burden of control away. “Sí...” she purred as Leo tightened his hold, “Yes... what?” Isabella turned her head to look at Leo and with a smile, she cooed, “Sí... por pavor...” with a flutter of her eyelashes, Leo bit down on his lower lip, the hand he used to caress her ass, he raised it, striking her with a sharp smack. “How many demands did you have?” Leo growled as he pulled the hem of her dress up, exposing her lower half and little black lace thong. “Seven...” The word barely passed her ruby red plump lips before Leo’s hand connected with her bare ass cheek, rolling her eyes as she purred. “Count!” Leo barked as Isabella’s chest heaved, “One...” “Two...” Leo’s fingers danced across her aching clit, “Kitten... you are so fucking wet...” “Three...” “Four...” Leo could only lick his lips with anticipation as Isabella was compiling, savouring her submissiveness as she stood there in her black thigh high boots with her red marked ass wiggling in the air. “Five...” Effortlessly he unbuckled his suit trousers, his erection throbbing, struggling to break free. As his trousers to his ankles, Leo pressed the tip of his cock against her wetness, pushing in deep on the first thrust. Isabella groaned as her pussy stretched, encapsulating and accommodating his full length. Gripping onto her hips, Leo wasted no time thrusting harder each time as the petite Princess gasped, reaching out aimlessly to hold onto the table, her ruby red manicured nails tried helplessly to dig into the table to hold onto something.

Leo clenched his teeth, he was nearly there. As his nostrils flared, he groaned loudly, immediately pulling out as he felt Isabella’s walls starting to contract around him, “Turn Around!” he barked with his deep voice, “Get on your knees beautiful...” Isabella pushed herself off of the table as her doe like chocolate brown eyes looked up at the Crown Prince. Hungrily, Leo pulled her close to him, roughly kissing Isabella until she felt almost breathless, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth to allow the moment to linger. Just because he was dominating her didn’t mean that Leo didn’t show his romantic side. He did love her and wanted to fulfil her every need. It was important for him to show Isabella he cared, not all of this was one-sided. Stumbling, the Princess stepped back before lowing herself onto her knees still with her dress pulled up around her waist, not once breaking eye contact. Taking Leo’s thick, hard pulsating member into her hand, she opened her mouth allowing her tongue to taste and tease his length. Leo entangled his fingers through her hair as he bucked his hips back and forth pushing his cock further into her throat. “That’s it...” praising the petite brunette, “You feel so good...” as he encouraged her to take more.

Isabella began to choke but Leo held her in place so she could get used to the sensation. Pulling her head back slightly, Leo grinned as she fluttered her long dark eyelashes up towards him, taking him willingly in her mouth. With a groan, Leo’s eyes narrowed, he could no longer hold back as his warm cum flowed freely down the petite brunette’s throat. Isabella stayed in place as her tongue once again slowly licked up and down Leo’s thick shaft dutifully lapping up any excess. Reaching out to take her hand, Leo helped Isabella up to her feet, pulling her close to him. Picking her up like a doll, Leo pinned the Laurentian beauty to the closest wall he could find, his lips peppering kisses along her neck, “I’ve missed you kitten...” Isabella pressed her head against Leo’s as they kissed once another sensually. Her eyes burned with desire and with a coy smile she teased “So much for counting to Seven...” Leo with a smirk set the Princess back down onto her feet walking back to his desk. Sitting down he smiled to himself watching as Isabella pulled down her dress, “Not so fast beautiful... you gotta earn those last two...”

Pouting, Isabella sat down fixing her makeup wiping away her running mascara and smudged lipstick as if nothing ever happened whilst Leo called the advisors back in. With a smile he ripped up Isabella’s demands, sending the torn pieces into the air, “We’ve agreed on Cordonia using Laurentian ports to export our goods...” Isabella’s eyes widened in horror, their advisors stepping in, “But Your Royal Highness... we can’t allow...” Leo stared at Isabella as he picked up a pen handing it to her, “Well Princess... if you want the remainder, you need to sign...” her advisors looked at one another but the Laurentian Princess never spoke. Did she broker a deal? Isabella looked up towards Leo, his glare made her feel almost giddy as she reached out for the pen immediately doing as she was told. After signing the request, Leo winked at her, “Good...” he smiled, “Now if you’ll excuse me...” he pushed his chair out, “I have an evening engagement to prepare for...” walking off, he turned to face Isabella with a devilish smile, “I’ll see you at Seven Your Royal Highness, I think you’ll quite enjoy tonight’s festivities...” Isabella sat with her hands carefully on her lap watching as Leo disappeared into the hallway.

Taking a moment, Isabella’s cheeks blushed, relishing that she was going to be somehow rewarded and painfully wanted those two extra smacks so badly. The Crown Princess knew she had made a deal with the devil, her head screaming at her to stop but Isabella’s heart drowned out all logic; she was good, she did as she was told. Quietly, the petite brunette rose to her feet, mumbling to her guards as she began to wander off, “I... excuse me...” towards the designated room she was given in the Palace. Immediately, the Princess wasted no time removing all of her clothing as a rush of sadness lay heavy upon her chest. Turning the controls of the shower, Isabella blinked back unexplainable tears. She was scared, she had never felt so alone. The water above her began to trickle down her petite frame, stinging her skin with each red hot droplet. Isabella lowered herself down onto the floor, pulling her knees to her chest making herself as small as she could. She felt shameful, horrified at what just happened. Leo took her and then without a second thought brushed her off as if nothing really happened.

“Excuse me...” Leo turned, his conversation with a group of nobles interrupted, “Excuse me Your Royal Highness...” finding it strange that one of Isabella’s advisors would want to speak with him directly, “May I have a moment of your time?” Leo was ready to dismiss him, he’d had enough politics talk for a lifetime but the look of uncertainty and worry on the advisors face told him not to. “Yes...” he moved away from the group, so they were out of earshot, “Can I help you?” The advisor slowly sighed, “I know I am out of line to ask... but... did something happen when you spoke to the Crown Princess?” Leo’s brow raised in question. Fuck, did he hear something? Trying to hide his shock, he tried to laugh it off, “Whatever do you mean?” Shaking his head, the advisor sighed, “She just didn’t seem herself afterwards at all... Her Royal Highness didn’t really speak...” Leo’s sea green eyes narrowed as he looked around the crowd but he couldn’t see her anywhere, “Ok...” Leo nodded, patting him on the shoulder, “Thanks for letting me know...” with a gracious warm smile he continued, “Let me see if I can find her, I think she said she had a headache earlier... please...” he gestured towards the trays of champagne and canapés passing through, “Enjoy the rest of your stay...”

Leo knew what room Isabella was in, he chose it especially for her away from all of the other guests. He knocked on the door but there was no answer before trying the handle. Opening the door slowly and quietly, he heard the sound of the shower and Isabella whimpering. Leo’s eyes widened in horror, not knowing what he would find. “Isabella!” He shouted, scrambling to remove his dinner jacket before entering the bathroom. Squinting through the steam filled room, Leo could barely see her until he reached in to switch off the water allowing the dense haze dissipated. Isabella raised her head, her cheeks stained with black kohl liner and mascara. “Kitten...” Leo cooed, immediately reaching out for a towel, wrapping it around her as she sat motionless, “It’s ok...” Isabella didn’t speak as she averted her gaze from him, closing her eyes to hide from the humiliation. Leo began to remove his clothing before sitting down beside her with a towel wrapped around his waist. Leo coaxed the Princess into a cuddle and gently placed kisses on the top of her head “Beautiful...” he whispered as she sat behind her, holding the petite brunette tightly against his chest, “Just tell me what you need...” Isabella dug her nails into his strong arms, holding Leo as tightly as she could. His voice was always her favourite sound, she needed to be held, needed to be told everything was going to be ok.

���Wh... what’s happening?” she quietly stuttered, completely unsure of herself. Leo cleared his throat, his heart filled with guilt and remorse, “I’m so sorry kitten... This is my fault, I shouldn’t have left you alone, I should have stayed, I should have fucking noticed...” Leo intertwined his fingers with hers whilst carefully and strategically placing kisses on the side of Isabella’s shoulder. Leo mumbled as he pressed his lips against her olive, sun kissed skin, “You know how amazing you are? You know I won’t let anything bad ever happen... I promise” Isabella’s body shaking in his arms as she began to slowly come around. She tilted her head slightly to look up at Leo and under all the running mascara, her dark chocolate brown eyes exposed her exhaustion. Placing his lips against hers, Leo kissed the Laurentian Princess slowly, his thumb gently caressed her cheek as his fingers cradled her jaw. With his next breath, Leo whispered, “I love you so much...” with a caring smile, he began to chuckle, “Let’s get you ready for bed beautiful...” carefully he rose to his feet, bringing the petite brunette with him. Removing the towel he put around her, Isabella and Leo quickly washed themselves before drying off and getting under the covers of the Super King Size bed that immersed the Princess’ petite frame.

Leo held Isabella as close as he could, staring into her eyes he tenderly smiled. With his thumb, he removed the last smudge of mascara that stained her cheek, “No one should ever make you cry... especially not me...” he swallowed hard as Isabella bit down on her lip, “Can you ever forgive me?” Isabella nodded tiredly before placing her head against his chest and in moments, she finally relaxed, falling asleep. Leo lowered his voice as he placed a kiss onto the crown of her head, “I’m not going anywhere kitten...” and no matter how many times his cell phone buzzed, he hung up or ignored the call, this was more important. He would deal with the consequences later with Constantine but Isabella was his priority. She slept for around an hour and wakening to Leo’s strong, muscular arms around her. With a chuckle, Leo gave the Crown Princess a playful squeeze, “Welcome back sleepy head...” Isabella’s eyes widened, placing her hand on his ripped chest, “What time is it?! You shouldn’t be here... Your father...” Leaning down, Leo began to kiss her softly with a smile, “The only thing you needed to be concerned about was 7pm... Constantine will be fine...” Isabella raised her brow, “Ready for what? Did you not say earlier you have an evening engagement?” The confusion across her face made Leo laugh, “You are my evening engagement... I was planning to take you to dinner, then kiss you here... here and maybe here for dessert...” he teased, “...and depending on how gorgeous you look when we are going out later, I’ll tear up our little agreement we made earlier...” It didn’t matter whether she was dolled up from head to toe, or if she had been crying with most of her makeup running down her face, Leo always thought she was gorgeous - Isabella just had to believe what he saw.

[halequeenjas]

Property Soul’d || Jasmine & Skylar

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @theskyeandsea & @halequeenjas SUMMARY: Skylar acts as an interpreter during one of her student’s parents real estate showings with Jasmine. The pair shows up before Jasmine can throw up wards, so Larry Bob makes a pesky appearance. CONTENT: Medical Blood Mentions

Any time Jasmine had a showing, she had to make it a habit to arrive earlier and throw up wards. Larry Bob was persistent as ever and simply wouldn’t leave her alone. Like it was her fault he died. Ghosty boy needed to get a grip and let that shit go, but he refused, even after her banishment attempts. Did she love carrying salt and iron with her everywhere? Not particularly, but she didn’t have much choice at this point. This property was a beautiful waterfront home that was staged to perfection. She was just about to put the wards up when she heard the doorbell chime. Fuck. This meant she’d have to be very careful. “Larry, if you’re here, I swear I’ll salt the hell out of you if you ruin this listing for me,” she chided quietly before making her way to welcome her clients in. She plastered on her million dollar smile and opened the door for Mr. Bell and a younger woman. She assumed this was the interpreter he spoke of. “Hello,” she greeted eagerly, “Come on in, I think you’re going to love this place.” She absentmindedly ran a hand over her pocket to confirm her small pouch of salt was there. “So this one has everything you’re looking for-- waterfront, pool for the kids, big tub in the master bath, a kitchen island, and it’s $10,000 under budget!” 

Thank you again, Ms. McKay, really, Mr. Bell signed as they made their way up the front walk of the house. Skylar shook her head, waving her hands emphatically. No, no, please. I’m happy to help, She signed in response before ringing the doorbell. It was a beautiful home, hopefully she’d be able to help him close on the house. She’d never really done something like this before, but… she was trying to be better, trying to be more helpful. So, here she was! When the woman opened the door, Skylar followed after her, interpreting the realtor’s words. Mr. Bell’s eyes widened with interest as he took in the information, though he seemed skeptical. “Has the kitchen been renovated? My wife’s really looking for a place with stone countertops.” She said, speaking for the man as he signed before looking at the woman expectantly.

Ever the best tour guide in town, Jasmine led them over to the kitchen as they asked about renovations and answered, “It was renovated last year and the countertops are all marble. Appliances are all new, too, and there’s even a range stove.” She gestured toward it as they walked in the kitchen which really was a dream. Maybe not particularly for her since she didn’t cook, but aesthetically speaking, she enjoyed it and knew how to sell it. She’d been about to dive into the other features when she heard a loud crash from one of the bedrooms. Of course, the one time her client was too early for her to get the wards up, something like this had to happen. She kept her composure and quickly rattled off, “Oh, I think I left my bag at the edge of the dresser, I’ll just go clean that up really quick. Feel free to poke around the kitchen!” She quickly rushed up the stairs and grabbed the salt and iron rod from her bag. As she saw his form in the bedroom next to a broken vase she let out a sign and chided, “Really, Larry? That’s a $2,000 vase.” Out of spite, before she could throw a dash of salt at him, he knocked down a sculpture. “Ugh,” she grumbled as she dashed salt at him and held her iron rod out to keep him away. She couldn’t very well start a banishment with people in the house. So she kept swatting at him with the iron rod hoping he’d just… leave. 

Raising her eyebrows as they stepped into the kitchen, Skylar relayed the woman’s words to Mr. Bell. The kitchen was… amazing. It honestly rivalled the one in Nic’s home-- her home-- with the wonderful cabinets and beautiful stove top. Mr. Bell nodded in agreement, examining the various fixtures as Skylar followed the other two adults around the home. Just as Mr. Bell was about to ask a question, she flinched as a loud shattering sound rang in her ears. A slight ring of feedback sounded in her ears and she grimaced as the realtor hurried out of the room. With a bemused expression, Mr. Bell signed, What did she say? Skylar pointed to her hearing aids with an apologetic wince, I couldn’t hear, but I can double check with her. What did you want me to ask her? I can double check. Mr. Bell signed his request to her and she hurried through the hallways to where she thought she’d heard the realtor wander off to. “Um, excuse me? Mr. Bell wanted to know if--” As Skylar entered the room, she blinked in confusion as she stared, not fully understanding what she was looking at. There were glass shards all around the room, bits of a broken sculpture mixed in as well, but what startled her more was the realtor, who was wildly swinging a thick metal rod around the room, saying something about… Larry? Mr. Bell’s first name was Martin-- who was she talking about? “Ah… Is everything okay?” Skylar asked.

“Damn it, Larry,” Jasmine grumbled as Larry Bob kept dodging her blows with the iron rod. He knew damn well she wouldn’t risk anymore property damage and he was using it to his advantage. Stupid poltergeist. In this moment, she was very grateful that Mr. Bell couldn’t hear them though she tried to keep the ruckus down so that the interpreter didn’t. She’d been trying to get a good whack in when she heard another voice. Her head whipped around and lips formed a small “o” as she realized the interpreter had in fact heard her. She casually hid the rod behind her back and lied, “Oh, everything’s peachy! I’m just a little clumsy somet-” Her grin faltered as the poltergeist began slamming the windows opened and closed. A long, exasperated sigh escaped her lips as she turned back to the window. She whispered angrily, “Can you not?” This was bad. By every indication to any sane person, it’d look like the house had some defects or was haunted depending just how familiar one was with White Crest’s particular brand of weird. She could see Larry’s ghostly form moving toward Skylar. “Watch out,” she yelped as she saw the door about to swing into her. 

Startled by the sight of the woman whipping around, the metal rod hidden behind her back, Skylar tilted her head, trying to see around her. What was she holding? Some kind of weapon? Or was it just a rod? And why? That didn’t seem like a standard realtor thing. Before Skylar could question more, she was startled to see the windows open and close wildly, the curtains blowing from the draft. “I-- what’s going on?” She asked, but before she could react, the door slammed in her face, smacking her hard in the face. The solid wood smacked into her nose and she felt a sudden trickle of warmth slide down her face. “Ow!” She yelped, clutching her bloody nose. “What just-- I… What happened?” She blinked as she fumbled. Was that magic? It almost reminded her of when she’d been helping Morgan with her jars of candles, how the magic had backfired on her. But, she hadn’t seen any wards or incantations or anything like that. The door had just kind of opened? Fumbling with the door handle, Skylar pinched her nose. “What was that?” She asked, her voice thick through the blood that was dripping down her face. 

As the door slammed into Skylar’s face, Jasmine grimaced and swore under her breath. Taunting her endlessly was one thing, but hurting an innocent interpreter just trying to do her job was another. She threw a handful of salt at his form before turning back to Ms. McKay. She pulled some tissues out of her purse and quickly handed them over. “I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed and added, “I swear what’s going on has nothing to do with the house.” It seemed the younger woman wanted answers and there were very few that didn’t make her sound like an absolute lunatic. She let out a sign and asked, “Do you believe in ghosts?” Realizing ghosts made the house sound bad, she quickly added, “Again, nothing to do with the house.” 

Accepting the tissues with a grateful nod, Skylar tilted her head up as she attempted to staunch the bleeding. Just another fun side effect of being a selkie, too much blood. She could feel the warm blood flowing down her face, dripping onto the ground, on the freshly cleaned floors. Oh no… That wasn’t good-- at least it wasn’t carpet, but still. Mmm. As the woman simultaneously hurled salt into the air and apologized, Skylar blinked in confusion. One, why was she throwing salt around, but also, why was she apologizing? The door had magicked itself open, it wasn’t as though she’d done anything. But, at the mention of ghosts, her eyes widened. Ghosts? Was there a ghost here? Looking around nervously, she nodded. “Mmm. I’ve heard of them before. Are you sure the house is safe? Mr. Bell, I wouldn’t want him moving in here if he’s going to be haunted or something.”

It took some concentrated effort, but Jasmine refrained from making a snide remark that everyone had heard of ghosts. Most just didn’t believe. Her lips curved down into a frown when she saw how much the girl was bleeding. Damn it, Larry. “Right,” she started before she explained, “Well, I’m an exorcist and I can assure this ghost has nothing to do with the house. He’s more of a personal haunt. Really persistent, too. Pissed I tried to exorcize him in the past. Turns out, he’s got a lot of rage so I need another exorcist to help.” The door slammed again and she grumbled, “Fuck off, Larry!” She shook her head and looked back to Skylar. “Usually I put wards up before a showing. You guys were a little early so I didn’t quite get to that step. I can assure he’ll follow me out of here, though, and I’d still put up wards anyway. I always do.” 

“An exorcist? Mmm, like going all John Constantine on someone?” Skylar asked, thinking back to the comic book character. She’d known that mediums were a thing-- Blanche had told her that she was one, afterall. So, it only made sense that there would be people who would get rid of ghosts too. Nadia had talked about having been through an exorcism years ago, how she’d been possessed. Was Jasmine possessed..? Skylar flinched when the door shut on its own again. The knowledge that it was an angry ghost doing this didn’t make her feel much better. “Um, okay. That’s good at least. Do you-- is there anything I can do to help? Besides,” She gestured downstairs to where Mr. Bell was still idling. Hopefully he hadn’t felt the floors shaking above him from the doors being slammed around. “You know, my job.”

“Uh, I don’t know who that is, but like, I get rid of ghosts and poltergeists when needed,” Jasmine threw a final dash of salt as she saw Larry approaching a painting and that seemed to get him to disappear for the time being. She let out a sigh and turned back to the younger woman. “I’m sorry, are you okay? He’s gone now.” This definitely wasn’t going to look good to Mr. Bell. She kicked some of the broken clay pieces under the dresser, but knew she’d need a broom to fully get the glass. “Not really, unless you know another exorcist, but I appreciate the offer. Larry Bob is a stubborn poltergeist. Think he’s a two woman job, but I don’t actually know any other living exorcists.” If she did, Larry Bob would have been thrown off this plane a long time ago. “Can I get you anything else? I’m so sorry he did that to you. 

“Mmmmm.” Skylar hummed in understanding, because it was easier than trying to talk. The blood was still dripping down her face and she was grateful for the excuse to not have to say anything in response. As the woman began to try and sweep bits of broken glass under the dresser, she glanced around. A dustpan would be best, but Skylar didn’t know where she’d be able to find one. “I, actually,” She said thickly through the tissues pressed against her face, “I do? I don’t really know if he’s legitimate, but he’s got a YouTube channel? Connor Piers?” She said. “I mean, I don’t know him, but he told me he does exorcisms and things. But, um, I don’t know if he’s really doing it or if it’s just a stunt.” She said. As the woman offered to help her, Skylar shook her head, though the motion sent more blood soaking through the tissues. “Ah-- um, maybe more tissues? Sorry. I, ah, I have a weird blood condition.” She said, trying to remember some of the excuses Ricky had told her all those months ago. Anemia? No, that wouldn’t make sense.

The mention of another exorcist made Jasmine perk up. The bond between her and Larry Bob was far too personal. It only fueled his anger and stubborn streak which made it near impossible for her to banish him like she wished to. “You do,” she questioned with her eyes widening and brows arching upward. “Wait, he’s got a YouTube channel,” she squeaked, “Actually, I think he’s popped up in my recommended videos on YouTube before. I’ll have to actually watch and see if he’s legit. I’d really love to not have to ward off and bring salt and iron everywhere I go. Have you actually met this guy?” She still hated that he had a YouTube channel. Being seen with him would make her a freak by association and she had been careful with who she told about being an exorcist. If word got too widespread, her real estate business would tank. “Right, right-- more tissues,” she mumbled as she grabbed a hoard from the bathroom. She really was bleeding a lot which was quickly explained by the weird blood condition. “Condition… do you like need a doctor or something? Are you going to be okay?” 

“He does. I watched one of his videos, but it was a little too creepy for me.” Skylar admitted as she tipped her head back, hoping it would help stop the blood from pouring down her face. She’d managed to catch it before it had stained her clothes, but if it kept up, there wouldn’t be saving her shirt. Pinching her nose tightly, Skylar took some of the tissues from the realtor-turned-Ghost-Buster and did her best to stop the continuous dripping. Soon, the tissues were soaked through, but at least her nose had stopped. Blinking, she bit the inside of her cheek. “Sorry. I haven’t actually met him, but he seems like the type who’d be happy to talk to people about ghosts and things?” She said, reflecting on how… cavalier he’d been with their conversation. She couldn’t imagine being like that. “Oh, no, no. I’m okay now, honest. I just, it’s a clotting issue.”

If one of his videos was creepy, it was probably a safe bet that this Connor guy was worth his salt. Jasmine would still watch one of his videos to find out properly for herself. “Noted, I’ll have to check out his videos and see if he’s at all legit. If so, I’ll have to hit him up even if broadcasting this stuff on YouTube is ridiculous,” she said with a bit of a grumble in her voice at the last part. Calling attention to ghosts and themselves like that was wild. Hell, she charged for exorcisms and she wouldn’t even dream of posting about it online. “Hm, I can still check him out. Thanks for the tip.” It seemed like she finally stopped bleeding though the tissues were all soaked through in the process. Gross. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. If you don’t mind, I’d still like to send a little care package your way when this is all done.” She grabbed a broom and dustpan she had stowed away in the closet for the cleaning lady she hired and reluctantly started cleaning up the glass. “If you’d like to tell Mr. Bell I’ll be down again in a minute, I’ll meet you down there. Would prefer to clean up this room before showing it to him.” 

“Mhm, that makes sense. Maybe he’ll be able to help you get rid of--” Skylar glanced around nervously, realizing that the ghost was probably still hanging around, “Help you with your situation.” The last thing she wanted was to wind up on an already angry ghost’s growing hit list. She nodded at the woman’s thanks and moved to extend her hand, but thought better of it when she remembered they were covered in blood. Instead, she waved awkwardly. “I’m, um, I’m Skylar by the way. Sorry for bleeding all over the floor. And yes, I can definitely do that. I’m sure he’ll be wondering what’s been going on, but I can just say I had a nosebleed and you were helping me.” She said. The lie would be easy enough, but that only unsettled her more. When had she become so okay with secrets and lies? With a shake of her head, she pushed the thought from her mind. Skylar headed back downstairs, her shoulders slumped slightly. Ghosts and blood and lies. This was just part of her life now, wasn’t it.

Being uneasy about ghosts was understandable. Nobody liked being confronted by something they couldn’t even see. Jasmine had the advantage of mostly being able to see ghosts pretty clearly, so she assured, “He’s not here anymore. I’d be able to see him. Think the salt bath hurt him a bit so we’ve got time.” It was a relief that Skylar wasn’t going to let her totally lose face with the customer. She gave a nod of her head and said, “I’m Jasmine. Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault Larry Bob is an asshole. Oh, yeah that works. Thanks for that. That excuse sounds way less crazy than what actually happened.” As Skylar left to go downstairs, Jasmine quickly tidied up the room. That call had been far too close for comfort. She supposed she’d really have to actually check out this Connor guy. At least, that gave her some sort of hope there was an end in sight.

[ladyfogg]

We Have It All

We Have It All

Fic Summary: You ask John’s help on a job and he reluctantly agrees. When things get dangerous, however, his true feelings for you are revealed. Constantine Oneshots Masterpost. 

Fic Song: We Have It All by Pim Stones

A/N: Another lovely commission.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: John Constantine/Male Reader

Warnings: Smut & Language

You stroll briskly across the parking lot, hood pulled up to block out the pouring rain. The bar is dimly lit when you enter, but you're still able to take in the crowd. It's a chill place, with quiet music and people scattered in groups throughout the room.

Say for a lone figure sitting in a corner at the bar.

With a grin, you approach him. Before you even get a word out, he says, “Whatever it is, no.”

You take a seat on the stool next to John. “You don't even know what I'm gonna say.”

Constantine glances over at you, cigarette dangling from his fingers as he brings it to his lips. “Doesn't matter,” he says. “I know what you're about, mate. And I'm not interested. So piss off.”

You wave to the bartender for a round before pushing your hood back from your face. “You will be when I tell you what the job is.”

His reaction to you isn't surprising. You and John have worked together on several occasions and they haven't exactly gone well. At least, in John's eyes. You happen to think otherwise.

“You said that last time,” John reminds you.

“I did. And I was right.”

John snorts with amusement as he takes a sip of his whiskey. “Debatable."

"Come on," you grin. "You made out great last time." 

"Only after I conned us out of police custody."

"Exactly! Proof we're a great team." You nudge him with your elbow, giving your best charming smile. "You know you're curious."

John studies you with hooded eyes, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Alright then, squire," he gives in. "What's this amazing job?”

“A very old rich man died and his vault is said to have thousands of dollars worth of magical artifacts,” you say. “Supposedly no one knows where it's hidden.”

“But you do.”

You grin and accept the drink from the bartender. "Yup! And I know how to get in."

John considers your words, taking a thoughtful drag of his cigarette. "How do you know your info is good?"

You give him an incredulous look. "Now you're just insulting me."

"I'm covering my arse," John argues. "No need to risk my neck without proof we're gonna get paid."

"The guy was a workaholic," you say. "The one place they haven't looked in his office. It's gotta be there."

John is quiet with consideration, watching you take a drink. "What kind of artifacts are we talkin'?"

Hook. Line. Sinker 

It doesn’t take long after that for John to be on board. You spend the next few hours drinking and going over the details of the job. By the time you get ready to leave, John is fully committed. 

The next day John is waiting for you outside of the motel, leaning against your car. You’re surprised he’s there so early. He looks exhausted but still damn good in the early morning sun, his trench coat slung over his shoulder. 

"If we're gonna do this, mate, you gotta follow my lead," he says as you both climb in. 

"It's my job, Johnny," you remind him, starting the car. "I'm the one who should be in charge."

"Aye, that's where you're wrong," John says, leaning back in his seat. "You asked for my help, which means you need me. Therefore, you do as I say, or I walk."

You raise an amused eyebrow. "Maybe I just like your company.”

John rolls his eyes. “I doubt it, mate.”

“Whatever you say, Johnny."

He shoots you a glare as he pops the end of a fresh cigarette into his mouth. "I'll remember you said that, love," he said, lighting the end. "Where are we headed?"

"We need to stake out the area," you say. "Make sure no one else is sniffing around. Once we have the all clear, we'll hit the place tonight."

"A whole day in the car with you," John smirks. "Must be my lucky day."

"Play your cards right and it could be."

The building is unassuming and will be ignored by most. On the outside, it seems like a boring office. You make a few laps up and down the street before finding a spot to park. Both of you are no strangers to stakeouts and settle in for a long day of nothing. A few hours pass with nothing but idle chit-chat.

“I’ve got a question, squire,” John says after an hour or so of silence. 

“I may have an answer,” you respond. “No guarantees.”

John smirks and flicks his cigarette out the window. “Why me?” he asks. “There are plenty of other mages who would be chompin’ at the bit to help you.”

“Yeah, but you’re prettier,” you tease, flashing him a grin. 

John doesn’t seem annoyed by your response. He actually looks amused. “I knew you fancied me.”

Laughing, you lean back in your seat, rolling your head to the side to look at him. “Do you want the truth?” you ask.

Intrigued by your tone of voice, John adjusts his body to face yours, giving you his full attention. “Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

“You’re one of the few people in this line of work I can trust,” you say. “And I know that whatever happens, you’ll have my back.”

John snorts with laughter. “You know what happens to people who put their trust in me,” he says. “And you know that when push comes to shove, I’ll save my own arse every time.”

“True,” you agree. “But I also know what you do for the people you care about.”

Amused, John places his arm around the back of your seat and leans in close. “Who says I care about you, mate?”

The heat from his body is tantalizing and you can't help but lean in as well, your noses only a few inches apart. “Oh, it’s just something I’ve…” You glance down at his lap pointedly. “...noticed.”

John's eyes grow hooded. He glances out the window as if to make sure you two aren't missing anything. It's already growing dark, storm clouds helping to mask the sunlight. When he looks back at you, his eyes flicker to your lips. He opens his mouth to speak but you don't give him the chance. 

You grab the back of his neck and yank him into a kiss, something you've been wanting to do for ages. John immediately follows through, tongue gliding against yours. His hand cups your cheek, firmly holding you in place. Excited to see this through, you deepen the kiss eagerly.

Your feelings toward John have always been more than just casual friends. It’s no secret that you find him ridiculously attractive, and he hasn’t even tried masking his admiration toward you. For some reason, it’s never happened. You weren’t expecting today to be the day that changed, but you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

Unfortunately, the kiss is short-lived. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot movement inside the building and jerk away from John.

"Crap."

"What's the matter?" John asks breathlessly as he follows your line of sight. 

"Someone got in before us," you say. "We gotta go."

John doesn't question you as you both get out of the car. You glance around to make sure no one is watching before jogging across the street toward the building. 

"Let's go around back," he says, grabbing your arm. 

“Nah, I’d rather go through the front door.”

Before he can stop you, you’re already halfway there, readying a spell in your head. You ignore John’s protests and the second your hand connects with the doorknob, you unleash the string of Latin words you prepared. The door pops open at your command and you stroll in. 

You find yourself in an entryway decorated with marble floors and white walls. The decor is minimalistic and incredibly boring for your taste, but you are more interested in what the millionaire has in his secret stash. 

Keeping your eyes peeled, you glance between three doorways, trying to decide which one you want to tackle first. Whoever is inside hasn't seemed to have heard the front door. No one comes running.

John appears behind you and you can see he’s fuming. 

“You are going to get us killed,” he hisses, hurriedly closing the front door. 

“Since when do you play it safe?” you ask, amused. Before he can answer, you pick the door to your left and head for it. 

You find yourself in an office. It's richly decorated, which leads you to believe it belongs to the dead man. As you start to search for evidence of the vault, John closes the door behind you, pressing his ear to it so he can hear if someone is coming.

"Hurry up," John says. "I don't like this."

"Relax, we're fine. I have a plan if someone shows up," you say, opening desk drawers and feeling around for anything unusual. "We'll get out of here faster if you help."

John turns to face the room. Reaching into his pocket, he withdraws a handful of powder and starts to chant, eyes rolling back into his head. When he blows on the powder, it extends around him in a dense cloud before floating throughout the room. 

You watch it move toward the bookcase before sliding through a slight gap underneath. 

"It's that way," John says.

With a grin, you grab John and plant a smacking kiss on his cheek. "Well done, Constantine!"

John smirks. "I have my ways."

You both examine the bookshelf, pulling books until there's a click and it slides open. Behind it is a door with no handle, only a combination lock. You place your hands on it, mutter a spell, and push. The lock spins several times before the door opens and you're greeted with a beautiful sight. 

A square room is lined with display cases of various artifacts, all looking beyond ancient. Swords, armor, scrolls, pottery...the magical hum coming from the room is almost too much to bear.

Time isn't on your side so you can't take the time you want to admire them. You have to move fast.

"What are you thinking?" John asks.

You ponder for a moment before pulling a piece of chalk out of your pocket. Carefully, you start to draw a symbol on the floor. As you finish however, John grabs your shoulder, trying to stop you.

"That spell is unstable," he says. "You can't predict what'll happen."

"Only if you don't prep ahead of time," you argue. "I know exactly what'll happen. Trust me."

John says your name in warning.

"It'll be fine," you wave him off. "Step back."

The moment you lift the chalk, the symbol glows bright and then in a flash, the room itself disappears, leaving an empty replica.

"All magic has a price," John says as you close the vault back up. "You're playing with forces you don't understand."

"Oh save it, John," you say. "You bend the rules of nature all the time! Why can't I?"

"I'm already damned," John says. "I don't want you joining me!"

"Damned for doing a simple transport and glamor spell? Wow, demons really are slipping if that's what they're going after."

"Come off it! You know that's not what I mean," John snaps. "When you use magic you shine like a beacon. Beacons attract all sorts of nasty things. Things you best not mess around with."

"That's not your call to make."

Suddenly you hear footsteps and voices headed your way. Thinking fast, you grab John and pull him against you into a searing kiss. 

John's cry of surprise is muffled and he stumbles forward, pushing you onto the desk. 

The door opens and a voice exclaims. "What the hell is going on here?!"

You and John pull away to find a well-dressed man standing in the doorway, a cellphone to his ear. He lowers it as he gives you an incredulous stare.

"Oh my god I'm so embarrassed," you lie.

"Sorry, mate," John says. "Didn't see you there."

"Who are you? Why are you going at it in my dad's office?" the man demanded angrily.

"We didn't think anyone was here," you say, wrapping your arms around John. "And, you know, why the time is right you gotta jump on it...pun intended."

"You need to leave!"

"'Course, mate," John says, slinging his arm around your shoulders.

The two of you hurry out and you don't breathe a sigh of relief until you're back in your car. Grinning, you turn to John, who looks pissed.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" he explodes. 

"Hey, we got the job done," you say. 

"And you could have gotten hurt!"

"So what? Why do you care?"

John doesn't answer right away. The way his eyes linger on your face makes you suddenly understand his concern.

"Aww, you like me," you tease. "You don't want me to use magic 'cuz you worry about me!"

John rolls his eyes. "C'mere." He seizes the back of your head and pulls you into a firm kiss. You return it enthusiastically. 

The adrenaline from the heist coupled with your attraction to John sends your libido into overdrive.

“We should touch each other,” you grunt in between kisses, hands fisting his trench coat. “Like, right now.” 

“It’s about bloody time,” John responds, tugging on the knot of his tie. “Just say the word, love.” 

“I’ve already said it,” you grin, shrugging out of your coat. “Need me to draw you a picture?”

John rolls his eyes and tugs you forward into another kiss. “Prat.”

“Ass.”

You two grapple, torn between removing clothing and trying to touch each other. “Backseat,” you order as your knee hits the steering wheel.

John wastes no time doing as you command. After he climbs into the back, you follow suit, climbing onto him. Now that you’re in a more comfortable position, you bury your hands in his hair and kiss him as hard as you can, straddling his lap. John’s hands reach down and grab your ass, squeezing as he pulls you down to grind against him. 

You can feel the heat radiating from John’s body. His trench coat lays crumpled underneath him already, tie forgotten in the front seat, so you get to work on the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel his skin. 

John seems to have other ideas. His hands fall to your jeans, quick fingers undoing the button within seconds. You just manage to get a peek at his bare chest when suddenly his hand wraps around your cock. 

“Shit!” you swear in surprise, grinding down against his hand. 

John smirks, cheeks red and dark eyes shimmering with amusement. “Tell me how you want it,” he purrs, pulling the collar of your shirt with his free hand so he can place kisses along your neck and shoulder. 

“You have condoms?” you ask.

“Aye.”

“Lube?”

“‘Course.”

“Good. Fuck me.”

John groans and kisses you, letting go of your cock so he can push your jeans down. You wriggle out of one pant leg and kick out of the other. There's rustling and condoms and lube are dropped onto the seat next to John before his hands return to your body.

Your cock is hard, rubbing against John's clothed thigh, the brief friction driving you crazy. John pulls you back by your hair, fixating you with a smoldering look before growling, "Turn around."

You do as he says and John seizes your thighs, pulling you closer. He runs his tongue along your hole, forcing a groan out of you. Unable to do anything by grip the front seats, you succumb to John's talented mouth.

A firm hand comes around to grab your cock. John pumps his hand roughly while he works you open with his tongue. 

"Fuck," you swear.

"That's the plan," John chuckles. He presses a playful bite on one of your cheeks.

"Do it already."

John groans. The hand around your cock falls away and you take over, jerking yourself off as John rolls a condom on. When a lubed finger circles your pucker, you eagerly push against it. 

John's hand closes around yours, forcing your pace to slow as he works you open with his finger. You grunt and groan along with him, body scalding to the touch.

The next thing you know, John is pulling you down, the blunt head of his cock pushes past the loose ring of muscles.

You lower yourself onto John, head falling back onto his shoulder. John's hand loosely grabs your throat, while his other squeezes yours around your cock.

And then he starts to fuck you. It's slow at first, giving you time to adjust to the wonderful stretch of him. You plant your feet on the backs of the seats for leverage. The two of you rock together, moans growing louder as John picks up the pace.

His mouth is relentless on your neck, sucking and nipping at a sensitive spot below your ear. You let him take over jerking you off, preferring to grasp his arm with one hand and the edge of the seat with the other.

You feel your balls tighten and you know you're about to come.

"John," you groan. "I'm close. I'm so fucking close."

"Come for me, love," John grunts into your ear. "Lemme make you come."

With a final loud moan, you crest that final wave of pleasure, spilling all over John's hand. He keeps pumping his hand and hips, milking your cock until he himself finally comes.

You slump against his chest, dazed and limp with satisfaction. John wipes his hand on the seat before carefully lifting you off his cock. You're turned just enough so he can kiss you.

The both of you lazily make out, coming down from your high. 

"Took us long enough," you grin between kisses.

John chuckles. "Better late than never." 

[firesoulstuff]

Could you do a Captain Canary Snow White AU?

*sighs* sorry this took so long, it kind of took on a life of it’s own.

True Love’s Kiss (Part 1)

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16213211/chapters/37894727

Another day come, another day he’s spent doing more than his share of work. Haircut and Pretty are supposed to be helping him, but the bastards were up late last night “stargazing”, they must’ve never come in and they haven’t been seen since. He isn’t too worried about them, Amaya’s claiming not to have any idea where they are but there’s no way they really snuck passed her. Something’s up, but he’s decided he’s not going to worry about it until sundown when the work’s done.

“This the last of it?” Jax asks, dumping what he’s got for wood into their wheelbarrow.

Mick takes a look at it, and then looks back at the forest around them and the setting sun. They could stand to get more, but he doesn’t exactly relish another trip out here in the dark. He can make a few good items with what they’ve gathered today to sell in town next week, and he’s sure Amaya will have some cloth for him. It won’t be as much as he’d like, but it’ll do.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, moving for the wheelbarrow and Jax’s face breaks out in a grin. At thirteen he’s still got enough childlike innocence and energy to be ready to run off after a long day of work, a quality Mick wishes he didn’t know was going to disappear soon enough.

They make it back to the cottage just as the sun’s going down, and Mick parks the wheelbarrow while Jax races into the house. He looks up at the sky to make sure it isn’t going to rain, and it’s not, so he isn’t dragging the wood all the way to their little shed in the back.

Amaya is there to greet him with a smile and a kiss on the cheek as soon as he enters the house, which only further cements his suspicions that she and their two resident headaches are up to something. But he still can’t bring himself to mind.

“How was your day?” She asks.

“Fine,” he hums, “You?”

“Quiet.”

He hums again, this time a little more thoughtfully, and reaches out to place his hand along the side of her protruding abdomen.

“And… how’s the little guy doing?”

She chuckles at his question, looking down at her stomach and placing her own hand not far from his.

“She is just fine.” Mick can’t help but to smirk at his wife’s insistence that their child is a girl. Personally he doesn’t care one way or the other, in fact he would be overjoyed to have a little girl every bit as beautiful and headstrong as her mother. In truth the only reason he keeps referring to their baby as a boy is because it’s fun to watch Amaya contradict him, and he’s pretty sure that is also the reason she’s convinced it’s a girl.

Anyway, she leads him into the cottage where he makes it about three steps, just enough for her to move and close the door behind him, before he stops in his tracks.

He knew he should’ve been worrying earlier.

Standing there in the center of their little living area is not only the two missing idiots, but also the town’s newest resident nutcase, John Constantine.

“What’s the zombie whisperer doing here?” He asks, to which Amaya smacks lightly at his arm, but their guest only grins like a sly cat.

“Ain’t just zombies I deal in, Mate.” He chuckles, and of course Haircut decides now is a good time to cut in.

“He’s going to help us wake Sara up.”

Of all the naive crap to ever come out of that moron’s mouth.

“She’s cursed,” he barks in reminder, taking a few stalking steps closer until he’s almost nose to nose with Constantine. “And no offence, Mate, but I don’t see you as being the one to break it.”

No, there’s only one person in this world who has the power to wake Sara from her eternal sleep, and he died before she was ever cursed.

“I don’t intend to,” the supposed warlock tells him, and then he spins on his heel, heading over to the bed of hay and blankets in the corner where Sara’s been for nearly three years now.

Before Mick can physically yank their visitor away from her he sits himself on the floor, and only then does Mick notice that someone has brought out Leonard’s sword.

“But I do intend to find out if the one who can is still out there.”

Now Mick wants to throw him out of the house. Leonard’s dead, since long before Sara was cursed. He went out hunting one day, never came back, and all they found of him was his sword and a scrap of bloodied fabric. According to not only the warlock who cursed her, but Amaya and the town healer as well, only true love’s kiss can wake Sara, and her true love is gone.

For some reason, and he really never will know what, he doesn’t pick Constantine up by the collar of his shirt and toss him out into the mud. Instead he stands by and lets the idiot sprinkle his salt and other bizarre things around the sword and place candles along the edges of his strange circle. He doesn’t even say anything as the nutcase lights the candles and then starts chanting, though he does take note of everyone else watching intently and rolls his eyes.

The sword starts glowing, which Mick will admit is a little unexpected, and then Constantine opens his eyes to reveal they’ve turned completely white and are even glowing a bit themselves. Then the glowing stops, and his irises and pupils reappear.

“He’s alive,” The man hums, voice thick as though he’s just been possessed or something, and Mick very nearly calls bull on the claim. “He’s under The Oculus spring.”

That’s what stops Mick.

“Under it?” He questions, his mind reeling, because the spring is impossible to pass. The treacherous waters killing anyone who dares to try, there’s a string of bodies to prove it. It’s also where they lost track of…

Oh.

“I keep trying to tell people, things are almost never as they seem.” Constantine grumbles as he gets to his feet. “Good luck.”

With that he starts heading for the door, like he didn’t just tell them all that Snart is alive and that means there is a chance Sara could be brought back to them.

“How can he be under the spring?” Mick snaps before their guest can make it outside the house. He can’t just leave, not after dropping something like that on them, something Mick isn’t entirely sure he believes. He wants to believe it, sure, but it’s impossible. Isn’t it?

“I don’t know Mate,” Constantine says as he turns around. “All I know is I reached out to his spirit and that’s where it led me, to some cave behind the falls and below the surface of the spring, and he doesn’t have the aura of a dead man.”

With that he leaves, everyone watching the door long after it’s closed, and then one by one they all turn to look at Sara.

“I thought I’d find you out here.”

Mick looks up at the sound of his wife’s voice. It’s late, too late for any of them to be awake, but after tonight he doubts anyone is actually sleeping.

After Constantine left, and they all got over their shock, the main room had quickly become the epicenter of a shouting match. Haircut and Pretty were adamant that they’re leaving first thing in the morning to bring Snart home. Hell, they tried to march out right then and there. Mick had to remind them that The Oculus was where they lost Darhk’s trail back when he first cursed Sara. Even if they do find him he’ll have the upper hand, they need to at least get some sleep before coming up with a plan that won’t get them killed.

“Are you going with them?” Amaya asks, carefully lowering herself to sit next to him on the fallen log, her eyes falling onto the fire he’s constructed for himself.

He looks at her with hesitation and sorrow, his gaze falling to her round belly, and of course she rolls her eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” she promises him. “You won’t be gone long, and somebody needs to make sure Ray and Nate don’t get themselves, or your best friend, killed.”

His best friend.

She sounds so sure that he’s alive, something Mick still isn’t certain he believes. But, if there’s a chance…

He leans over and presses a firm, loving kiss onto Amaya’s lips. A thank you and an assurance all at once.

“But I want to help!” Jax all but whines in protest the next morning as Mick, Ray, and Nate pack up what they can carry on their back in regards to food and weapons.

“You gotta stay here,” Mick grumbles, not even looking up from his own bag.

Jax may be getting older, but that doesn’t mean he’s old enough to go on a mission like this. Besides, if they do find Snart and bring him home then the first thing Sara will do upon waking up will be wring his neck for allowing Jax to go with them to face down Darhk.

“But-”

“I said no.” He practically snaps at the kid’s decision to keep pushing, and now that he’s looking at those sad brown eyes Mick finds himself sighing.

“Look,” he starts, a little more gently, and he places a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “We’ve all got jobs to do here. My job is to keep Haircut and Pretty from screwing up and getting themselves cursed, lord knows we’d never find anybody to wake them up. We’re gonna be gone a few days, so your job needs to be to take care of things here; you need to watch over Amaya and Sara.”

Jax looks up at that, eyes wide, like he can’t believe he’s being trusted with so much responsibility. Amaya isn’t helpless, of course, but even she’ll admit that she’s needed a little extra help lately, and Mick knows she’ll understand him using her as an excuse to get Jax to comply with staying.

“Can I trust you with that?”

Jax nods eagerly, and with a smirk Mick ruffles his hair before he tosses his bag over his shoulder. He kisses Amaya goodbye, promising to be back soon one more time, and then heads out the door with the two nincompoops.

Constantine had better know what he’s talking about.

[vcg73]

Witch!Kurt #23 - Combat Class

In spite of its length I didn’t feel that #22 was quite finished, so this shows Kurt’s side of the same time we spent with Adam and the Cheerios.

~*~*~*~*~

As they finished gathering  up all of the assorted hand-balls, dodge-balls, and super-balls, Kurt took the opportunity to ask something that had been bugging him for months. “How does magic-dampening work, exactly?  I mean, from what you said before it’s something that you’ve learned how to turn on and off at will, but did you always know it was there? Can you sense what other witches’ powers are and just squash a particular Talent, or is it an all-or-nothing deal?”

 Troy raised an eyebrow, using his foot to pop a stray dodge-ball up and into his hands, then trying out a jump shot as he tossed it basketball style at the container next to Dale. The young woman tossed her purple-dyed curls and flipped him off when the shot missed, bouncing off the rim of the basket and smacking her in the ass as she bent to retrieve a couple of super-balls that had rolled under a stack of practice mats.  

 “Oops, sorry!” Troy called, his sincerity not entirely winning her over considering that he was laughing at the same time.

 “Do it again, and you’re walkin’ home, Duncan! Snow be fucked,” she called back, her heavy Bronx-born cadence making the words sound far more threatening than the half-reluctant smirk on her face would indicate.

 “I’d better be careful,” Troy told Kurt with quiet amusement. “Her ex pissed her off one time and wound up spending the night in Jersey! To answer your question, my power came in a bit later than most. I was nearly eighteen, and it was a huge disappointment to me at first. My people have been witches for several generations back and we only figured out what I was because I have a set of younger twin brothers whose Potential was suddenly stopped dead in its tracks. They had just turned twelve and they were manifesting nicely, and then suddenly they couldn’t so much as close a door or will a candle to light while I was in the same room with them.”

 “Telekinetic and Thermal magic?” Kurt guessed.

 Troy nodded, tossing him a ball to pass along to Elliott, who was now standing and chatting with Dale. “Yup, though Patrick prefers to call the latter ‘Pyro-Power’. He thinks it makes him more of a bad ass, and it differentiates him from James. They’re identical, so that’s important to them both, and their power manifested in opposite directions so it makes sense.” Seeing Kurt’s questioning look, he explained, “Pat uses Thermal Conductivity, heating things up like you do, while Jamie uses Thermal Reductivity, which allows him to make things cold.”

 “Like my friend Dani,” Kurt said, delighted to realize that he and his friend had the same base power, only manifest in different ways. “I hadn’t realized it was the same.”

 “Oh, sure. Most magic is related in some way. How it manifests just depends on the individual person. That thing you do with the clothes? I’m pretty sure that’s a peculiar combination of telekinesis and a very mild transportation Talent. You don’t have enough to physically transport yourself or another person, but you are able to will one garment away and instantly replace it with another,” Troy said, grinning wickedly as he added, “A fact which I’m sure half my Combat Class, Constantine in particular, finds extremely disappointing.”

 Kurt blushed, knowing that he was probably correct. Con had made no secret of the fact that he found Kurt’s shirtless body extremely attractive when they had been competing as ‘shirts vs skins’ sparring partners last semester. “Thank God my power hadn’t fully kicked in back then, or I might have embarrassed myself pretty badly.”

 Troy let go a hearty laugh, imagining his surprised students ogling a suddenly naked classmate. “I always kept a broad dampening field in effect during those classes, for just such unexpected outbursts of power,” he chuckled. “Mine is a really rare Talent, but luckily my dad had had some exposure to magic dampening through a friend. He was able to help me find an instructor, a woman who also taught mixed martial-arts classes, who could help me learn to control my ability. She helped me in more ways than one, and it’s a good thing.  Otherwise I would have been going around being the downer in every group of witches I encountered, without even knowing why. She showed me how to recognize when I was extending power and shut it down, eventually turning it on and off at will. Forgive me a crude analogy, but it’s a lot like developing stamina in bed. When you first develop raging hormones, you get turned on by everything from bare flesh to butterflies, and a romantic partner barely has to touch you to achieve lift-off.”

 It was Kurt’s turn to laugh. “True, and as you gain more experience and self-control, you start being able to push down the urge toward completion and just enjoy taking your time getting there. So for you, magic is the same way?  You push down the passionate first response and learn to keep your emotions, and consequently your power, in check?”

 “Exactly,” he said, pleased with Kurt’s quick comprehension. “The more a magic-damper wears his or her heart on their sleeve, the harder it is to control their power. And as I developed mine more, I learned how to recognize the particular ‘beat’ of another witch’s power and either ignore or suppress it. Which turned out to be very useful when Patrick decided it would be fun to show off his Pyro-power for a girl he wanted to impress and nearly burned the house down.”

 “Oh, no,” Kurt laughed. He tried to imagine his brother Finn with thermal magic, attempting to impress Rachel in the same clumsy way he had been wont to do with his other natural talents, and winced. That would not have been pretty. “That reminds me, do you remember Rachel Berry?”

 The other man nodded. He looked around the room, eyes scanning the floor carefully for any missing rubber balls. Finding none, he gestured Kurt to get back into position. “Of course. The Winter Showcase show-off, who tried to condense four years of education into half a school year, then dumped us the minute her big Broadway dream came calling.”

 “Then dumped that the moment that television knocked on her door,” Kurt agreed ruefully.

 Troy snorted. “I hear that didn’t go so well. Wasn’t her pilot rated as the worst debut in thirty years by Variety?”

 Kurt grimaced. “I’m afraid so.”

 “Pity,” he said. “Her singing talent was enormous, but compared to that ego?” He held up a super-ball and a dodge-ball side by side and whistled.

 Unable to deny that, but not wanting to speak ill of someone he had considered a very dear friend, Kurt pushed on. “My question was about her other talent. Did she know that she was like you?”

 Troy looked surprised. “I didn’t know that she was.”

 “Oh. Well, to someone with Sight, it was pretty obvious,” Kurt said, “and I don’t mean myself because I didn’t have my power yet the last time I saw Rachel. Brittany says that her aura looked like a big blank through Sight, sort of like she went invisible except for her outline. Yours is like that too, and so are several others here at this school. Christina Dupree, M’lawna Katann, Gabriel Sarasota . . . even Miss July.”

 He made an understanding noise. “Them I knew about. NYADA doesn’t just recruit for performing arts talent, as I’m sure you’ve realized by now.” Kurt nodded. “I’m a graduate student, but I actually transferred to NYADA from The New School as a sophomore, after some dance classes had led me to discover the amazing world of choreography. I was pretty confused at first, because while I flatter myself that do have talent in that area, I didn’t think it was good enough to get me a spot at the leading performing arts school on the east coast. And I was right. I met with the Dean and two of the professors and they let me in the big NYADA secret.”

 “They needed to train student-teachers who could keep their more passionate performers from blowing up the school, or cheating to get an edge over their fellow students by using magic,” Kurt said, pleased to have his long held suspicions confirmed.

 Troy laughed. “Pretty much, and since they offered me a special scholarship to come here and receive a frankly amazing education, and the chance to put all my talents to good use at the same time, who was I to turn them down? Now, I don’t know much about your friend since she never took Combat or Choreo, but she was talented as a singer and if she was a powerful enough magic-damper into the bargain, I’m not surprised any more by the number of extra chances the gossip mill claims that she received here. Like I said, it’s a rare thing.”

 “But it’s possible that she really didn’t know the true reason she was here,” Kurt concluded. Knowing Rachel as well as he had, he was not sure if she would have taken that eventual revelation as a compliment, as recognition of just another special and amazing talent, or as a grave insult, to think that anyone would believe that her singing was not enough to get her into NYADA all by itself.

 “If her folks aren’t magical, or if she had nobody to compare herself to in that way? I’d guess not,” Troy said thoughtfully. “The faculty likes to play those things close to the vest with new students until they find out what kind of person they’re dealing with, and whether they’re the type of person who could even be happy in a role like mine. I love teaching, and I fully intend to continue on here after I finish getting my Masters next year, but it ain’t the most glamorous profession.”

 Kurt had to smile at that. It was difficult to imagine the Belle of McKinley being content with letting others constantly take center stage while she offered instruction and encouragement. “Well, I’m glad you took on the job, because you’re helping me more than you know.”

 “Good!” he said cheerfully, chucking a dodge ball at Kurt so fast he almost did not see it coming. Kurt yelped and hit the deck as the projectile came for his head. “Because it’s time to get back to work. I’m pulling back the dampening field and I want to see you use your powers to actively defend yourself this time.”

 Over the next hour, he did just that. Troy proceeded to test Kurt’s defenses, launching the bouncy projectiles past his guard countless times as he struggled, with increasing frustration, to defend himself.

 They started out slowly, Troy allowing Kurt a little time and experimentation to figure out how best to employ magic as a defense. Kurt could not produce actual shields the way that Santana Lopez could, but he could ‘push’ an approaching ball away or whisk one harmlessly aside. He had done similar exercises with Santana and Brittany when they were trying to teach him how to form and toss snowballs with his magic, in lieu of the more dangerous fireballs that the girls hoped he might one day be able to produce. He had deflected more than one sneaky snowball in return, so he found that part of the lesson to be fairly simple.

 Unfortunately, Troy took his increasing confidence as a sign to speed up, and he began tossing more than one projectile at time with help from Dale, who also had telekinesis as a major Talent. “Don’t think, just react,” Troy called out calmly as Kurt struggled against a tornado of rubber balls.  

 Kurt yelped when Dale began shooting them at his feet. “What the hell!”  

 “Don’t like it? Get out of the way. If you can float, you can fly,” Troy said mercilessly, watching with a dispassionate air as Kurt attempted to obey.

 Biting back a curse, Kurt jumped and did his best to stay afloat as he continued to dodge and weave. He was not particularly good at levitating on command, particularly at high speed. At home he always centered himself and rose slowly, moving carefully and smoothly across the floorboards like he was riding a two foot tall, invisible tread-mill.  He did not use the skill very often, but he had thought he was doing well with it, and Adam, Elliott, and his parents had certainly been impressed by the ability. Of course, none of them had been throwing painful objects at him while he did it either.  As a result he bobbed and flailed clumsily in mid-air, attempting to stay aloft while continuing to shove aside the seemingly endless barrage of ammunition.

 “Swoop, Kurt. Get under and over it! The ball can’t hurt you if it can’t hit you. Pretend this is a dance. Leap, pirouette, spin . . . whatever you can to stay up and out of the way.”

 Kurt did his best to obey the instructions, but he was becoming increasingly angry. He would no sooner dive out of the way of one ball, than another would go flying past his weakening defenses and smack him in some tender spot.

 It was time to think outside the box.

 When the next volley came Kurt dove back down to the floor and rolled, avoiding a dodge-ball, and coming back to his feet in a single smooth motion. Then he reached out and clapped his hands hard, willing the hail of balls that Troy and Dale were throwing to condense, the same way he had done with the snowflakes the first day he found that he could pack a snowball without touching it.  It worked, but not quite in the way he had expected. Instead of crushing the rubber balls as he had hoped, they all shot toward each other fast and then exploded outward, bouncing off of one another and rocketing through the room in every direction.

 “Shit!” Elliott cried out as a tiny red ball tried to take his head off. He dove toward an equipment rack, transforming himself just in time to make a smaller target.

 The others had also ducked, covering their heads. As the madly jouncing balls began to lose their momentum, Troy started laughing. He approached his sweat-dripping student and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “That was epic,” he said, still chuckling. “I honestly did not see that coming, which is exactly why you should put it in your arsenal. Excellent job.”

 “Thanks,” Kurt said, dropping back to sit on his haunches, hands on his thighs as he struggled to catch his breath. “But . . . I was trying . . . to crush them.”

 The other man just smiled. “Either way, it caught us off guard and forced us to stop firing at you, so I’d call it a success. Next time, we’ll go slower and let you try adding some heat while you do it. The result might be better if the material is a bit more malleable. But let’s wait until we can go outside. A couple of the greens are warded especially for outdoor magic, and the faculty would have my head if I allowed you to perfume the entire building with burning plastic and rubber. In fact, I suppressed your thermal magic after you attempted to set one of the dodge balls on fire.”

 Kurt’s eyes widened. “I did? I didn’t even notice. I’m really sorry!”

 “No harm done,” he said, unconcerned. “That’s why I teach the first and second year combat classes, and why you came to me for help. When young witches are first learning to use their powers, all sorts of interesting things can happen.”

 He nodded. “I’m still sorry. Setting things on fire wasn’t part of my defense plan.”

 Troy just smiled. “I know. Don’t feel bad. You didn’t heat up until Dale and I both started shooting at you, and I had her force you into the air. I’m impressed, Kurt.  I was curious to see what it would take to make you lose your cool, literally as well as figuratively.”

 The lingering annoyance Kurt had felt toward actions that had seemed an awful lot like bullying faded. “You pushed me to see how far I would let things go before I pushed back, didn’t you?”

 Troy nodded, tossing Kurt a bottle of water and a towel from the supply he had brought. “I did. Control of your temper is going to be vital if you go up against a wild-witch, because they use high emotions as fuel. Blaine used your power to enhance his own without you even being aware of the theft. That’s dangerous, because it means that he’s more familiar with your power signature than you are his. If you aren’t prepared to shield your emotions, you could be handing your ex-fiancé an IV line straight to your power without meaning to.”

 Taking a long refreshing pull of the cool water, Kurt mopped off his face, neck, and chest, grateful for the reprieve. He felt his skin crawl as he imagined Blaine as a bloated magical tick who had been sucking out a bit more of his life-force with every petty argument and round of tearful apologies and makeup sex. God, he felt the need for a hot shower just from thinking about it!

 “Is that why you told me to treat it like a dance?” he said suddenly. “Because having a pattern of steps to follow is easier?”

 “Mmm-hm,” he agreed, sipping some water of his own and grinning as he paused to watch his roommate. Kurt followed his gaze and laughed. Dale had retreated to one of the side benches, where she was playing a game with the still-feline Elliott, rolling a super-ball in his path as the cat let his instincts loose and raced around the practice mats batting gleefully at the tiny toy. “Stage combat is a lot like a partner dance and I’ve had you in my classes enough to know that you don’t have any problem following complex choreography. In fact, you’re a lot more focused and comfortable if you have recognizable moves to follow.”

 Kurt had to agree. “I’m learning to improvise, but I kind of hate it. When I was younger everyone made fun of my style to the point that I just avoided any kind of unstructured dancing. Not that I was clumsy or anything. Just . . . well, you know.” He gave a little shoulder shimmy in demonstration. 

 The older man grunted. As a teacher, he clearly disliked the idea of a student’s natural instincts being suppressed in that manner. “Well, we’ll just have to see if we can get you past that, because your improv is pretty damned effective. For now, I think we just need to get you more comfortable with using your assorted Talents together. If you can perform complex maneuvers while still being aware of everyone  around you and what they’re doing, you won’t ever be caught by surprise. And in offensive situations, you’ll be better able to make quick decisions about when to follow a pattern and when to improvise, just as you did a moment ago.”

 Kurt relaxed, happy to know that the past couple of hours had been moving toward a real goal, and that Troy did not seem disappointed with his first performance. He knew that he was frequently too hard on himself, but he had been unable to help being nervous that he would be declared a lost cause from the get-go. It was a relief to hear that he had real potential. “Should we try another round?”

 Troy shook his head with a smile. “No, that’s enough for today. Trust me, you’re going to be feeling this lesson in a couple of hours. For now, just do some cool-down stretches then go take a shower. Relax for the rest of today, and do some light exercise or dancing tomorrow to loosen your muscles up. Our next lesson can wait until school is officially back open. I’ll ask Con and Winston to join us for that one. They can help me show you some demonstration moves.”

 “Sounds like a plan,” Kurt agreed, holding his hand out and receiving a firm shake in return. “Thanks a lot, Troy. I owe you one. You too, Dale.”

 “My pleasure,” she said, giving her new friend a little pat and hopping to her feet. “Are we ready to go? Cool. Catch you in class on Tuesday, Kurt. Bye Elliott.”

 The cat released his long claws from around the captured ‘prey’ and abruptly transformed back into a man wearing torn jeans and a faded green Paramus High Spartans sweatshirt. He grinned and waved a hand, tossing the little ball back into the basket with the others.  “Nice meeting you.”

  “You too!  Good job, you guys,” she said, straightening her electric pink ‘Godz Monsters’ t-shirt and flipping her grape-colored tresses back over her shoulders. Addressing Troy, she said, “I need to grab some food. You want to come with, or should I drop you off at home?”

 “Home, please. I have a few things to work on while there’s a lull in the chaos.”

 She teased him about his procrastination habits and Troy teased her back about mother-henning. As he listened, Kurt found himself wondering whether Troy’s roommate might be single. She and Troy did not seem romantic toward one another, and Kurt had developed a fair instinct for such things during his time in New York. Dale and Dani had the same taste in hairdressing and music – if that shirt advertising his friend’s favorite lesbian punk band was any indication – and Dani had been single ever since her breakup with Santana. Dale seemed like a nice person and it would be good to see Dani happy with someone again. Fashion wasn’t much to go on, true, but in Kurt’s view it was always an excellent place to start. He would have to pay more attention when classes started again and see if he could gather more intel . . .

 “See you, guys,” he said with an innocent smile, giving them a hand-wave as the duo picked up their basket of ‘weapons’ and waved back, then abruptly vanished from sight. Kurt looked at Elliott and shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to watching people do that.”

 Elliott shrugged. “Guess I’m too used to it to be affected anymore. My mom and sister are Teleporters too.”

 “Are they also Familiars?” he asked, wondering why he had never thought to ask before. Tossing his used towel into the dirty laundry basket that all the practice rooms carried, Kurt picked up his discarded sweater and then plucked distastefully at the now clammy undershirt he wore. “Yuck. I need to clean up.”

 “Locker room or home?” Elliott asked.

 Kurt decided, “Locker room. It’s equipped with everything I need and they have a better hot water heater than I do. I keep a couple of spare outfits here, so I can put one of those on afterward.”

 Elliott just smiled at that because, of course he did. “To answer your question, I’m the only Animagus in my family. It’s a pretty unusual Talent, and only those of us who become cats seem to develop the instinct to form a witch/Familiar bond. It’s considered kind of an honor to have a Familiar in the family.” He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “Among witches, it’s kind of like your kid turning out to be a prodigy of some kind.”

 He nodded. Given that he was the first openly recognized witch in his own family, Kurt was not overly familiar with the culture of magic users. All he really knew were a few things he had heard and observed when the Crawford clan had been visiting, but it felt reassuring somehow to know that witches had their own rituals and heritage, just like any other thriving culture. It made him feel like part of a larger community, and he really liked that idea.

 “Well, I’m glad it happened to you, because I’d hate it if you hadn’t happened to me,” Kurt said, giving Elliott an affectionate touch to one shoulder. He led his friend down a corridor and to a row of lockers located just inside a set of shower rooms attached to the practice wing. Going to one that was two down from the end of the last row, he quickly twirled the combination lock on its door and started to open it.

 Suddenly, with a cry of shock and pain, Kurt fell against the metal door, barely catching himself as he staggered.

 “Kurt!” Elliott cried out in alarm, catching him before he could fall any farther. “Are you okay? What’s going on? Are you sick? Should I find a doctor?”

 Clutching Elliott’s sleeve, Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and gave his head a hard shake to orient himself against the sudden assault of swirling emotion that had hit him out of nowhere. “No. Adam!” he gasped. “God, he’s so . . . he’s . . .”

 “What?” Elliott demanded, giving him a little shake in hopes that he would start making sense again. “Adam is what, Kurt?”

 “Scared,” he choked. Blue eyes wild and wide, Kurt met his friend’s worried gaze and ordered, “Take me to Lima. Now!”

 Not about to question the urgency in his voice, Elliott wrapped an arm around Kurt’s shoulders and tried to concentrate on Kurt’s home town. He had only been there once (technically three times) as he transported Brittany, Santana, and Tubbington between Ohio to New York the day that Adam had been rescued from the Void, but he had not had a real chance to look around. He had simply used the mental directions given him by Tubbington to find his way. Hopefully he could do the same thing with Kurt. “Try to calm down a little. Think of somewhere in Lima that you’re very familiar with,” he said, keeping his voice calm and soothing. “Somewhere safe. I’ll link with you and use that as a focus.”

 Kurt was having a hard time concentrating on anything except the waves of panic he could feel twanging down his bond with Adam like a badly tuned guitar string, but he nodded and made himself think about the safest place he knew.

 “Got it.”

 A moment later, the pair found themselves in a comfortably but modestly appointed suburban home. Elliott was not at all surprised to recognize a startled-looking Burt Hummel staring at the suddenly occupied space in front of his television set.

 Burt sprang from his easy chair and hurried toward his disheveled, wild-eyed son. “Kurt! Are you okay? What’s going on?”

 Carole ran in from the kitchen, still drying her hands on a dish towel. “Burt? Did I hear you say . . . Kurt!”  

 “Adam,” Kurt gasped again, sounding as though he were running short on air. “I felt him. Dad, he was so scared!  Something’s happened. I have to find him.”

 Though not entirely understanding what he meant, Burt Hummel had no doubt that his son was genuinely terrified. “Okay, okay we’ll find him. Where do you think he might have gone? Did someone grab him? Do you need me to book a flight to New York?”

 For a moment, Kurt was confused. Then he remembered that his father had no idea what was going on and he said, “No, he’s here. In Lima somewhere. Adam, Santana, Brittany, and L T  wanted to spy on Blaine, and everything was okay, but then suddenly it wasn’t okay, and I . . .” his voice choked off as he valiantly swallowed down a whimper. Both hands were clutching his dad’s plaid covered biceps, while Burt held his own bare arms securely beneath the elbows as if fearing that Kurt might collapse without the support.

 “It’ll be okay, son. We’ll figure this out. We should split up. Carole can take her car toward the Lima mall. I’ll grab my truck and head for that coffee shop you guys used to live at, and check all the surrounding stores. You and Elliott go toward your old school and see if they went that way. If none of us finds him in an hour, we’ll meet back here and figure out where to go next.”

 It was not the most efficient plan, but action of any kind sounded great. Adam’s initial projection of terror and confusion had calmed, but he was still nervous and little tremors of reaction still thrummed along his connection to Kurt.

 Unfortunately, Kurt found himself too keyed up to pinpoint Adam’s physical location. He knew that he should take a breath, calm down, and focus, but for the moment he could not seem to manage it. He was startled when Elliott gently pried him and his dad apart and clasped both large hands lightly around Kurt’s face, meeting his eyes squarely and breathing in slow deliberate inhales and exhales. His thumbs began to stroke feather-soft against Kurt’s temples and he continued to breathe.

 For a moment, Kurt fought against the slow deliberate relaxation technique, fearing that they were wasting time, but this was something Elliott had begun doing with him when his magic was first revealed and Kurt had been afraid he might have a nightmare and magically destroy his apartment. It was the preliminary exercise to Elliott’s yoga sessions, and Kurt found himself responding to it. He took a breath, then another, feeling some of the painful anxiety loosen its iron grip.

 “Clear your mind,” Elliott said in a slow and serene voice. “Let your muscles loosen and relax. Let your feelings flow out with every breath. Think about Adam, but don’t let the fear direct you. Feel your bond and let it lead you to him. Feel our bond, and let it guide me.”

 His thundering heartbeat began to slow. Kurt knew that only a few seconds had passed, though it had felt like hours of precious time were being lost as he forced himself to stop and focus. He took another shaky breath, let it out slowly, then said, “I feel him. He’s . . .” A puzzled expression crossed his face as he finished, “Here?”

 As if in reply, a loud thump sounded on the front porch. Before the bell could even ring, Carole had dashed for the entry and flung the door open. She dragged three wide-eyed humans and a slightly insulted looking cat inside and slammed the door behind them. “Where have you been? Where is Adam? Kurt said he was with you!”

 Before anyone could even formulate a retort or reply, Kurt had charged forward and flung his arms around the tall figure in the center. “Oh, my god,” he gasped, holding on tight. “I felt you freaking out. I was so scared that Blaine might have hurt you again. Are you okay? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

 “Probably because you haven’t stopped talking long enough to let him,” Tubbington chuckled, transforming himself into human form and giving both of the embracing lovers an amused pat. “Hey, Mrs. H!  Long time, no see. There anything to eat around here?”

 Burt planted his hands on his hips. “All right, what the hell is going on here? What is that woman doing in my house, and why is Kurt hugging her?”

 “Oh!” Brittany said, her blue eyes going wide as she was reminded that she was still holding the glamour on Adam. Lifting her hands, she flicked them as if she was turning a couple of knobs in opposite directions and suddenly the track-suited blonde woman turned into a similarly clad blond man. “I forgot.”

 Kurt’s parents both took a hard seat on the sofa, eyes wide. “Well, shit,” Burt muttered as a dancing-eyed Santana went to join them and clue the confused pair into the day’s events.

 Adam and Kurt barely even noticed the by-play. Adam was hugging Kurt just as tightly as Kurt was holding him. “I’m fine, darling” he whispered, turning his head to rest his face against Kurt’s neck and taking a deep breath that ended in a half-sobbed laugh. “How is it you came to be here, just when I needed you most?”

 “Kurt had just finished his lesson with Troy when he felt you,” Elliott answered in Kurt’s place, seeing that he was momentarily too choked up to reply. “And whatever he picked up must have been pretty intense. We high-tailed it out here as fast as we could, and Burt was about to help us organize a search party. What happened?”

 “We were walking around town when Adam spotted a giant cockroach crawling around the sheet-music store,” Santana said dryly, “and it may have creeped him out a little more than he could handle after spending two years in the cosmic roach-motel.”

 Kurt understood at once. Pulling back to look into Adam’s face, he said, “You saw Blaine.”

 Adam nodded. “And unfortunately, I proved to be less prepared for the sight than I had hoped to be.” He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair in an unconscious show of embarrassment. “I may have had a minor panic attack. I’m so sorry to have passed it along to you, love. I had no idea the sight of him would affect me so strongly, much less contagiously.”

 “Don’t be sorry,” Kurt said, leaning in for a gentle kiss. “I’m impressed that you got as far as you did, and your reaction is nothing to be ashamed of. I’m glad to be here. I didn’t feel right about sending you here without me as it was.”

 “And if that was a minor attack, then my estimation of your guts just went up about a hundred percent,” Santana said dryly. “Because if that was no big deal, then the shit you’ve been dealing with before this must have felt like Godzilla mistaking your head for Tokyo.”

 He flushed. “It’s down to you lot that I made it through as well as I did,” he said, giving them a grateful nod. “I had felt confident in my disguise, and certain that I was ready to do this, but when he appeared I just lost my head. If you hadn’t been with me, I don’t know what I would have done.”

 Brittany came over to them and hugged the still touching Kurt and Adam in a single gesture. “That’s why we were with you,” she said simply. “Nobody should have to face the monster under their bed without a flashlight and a baseball bat.”

 “And a good attack-cat doesn’t hurt either,” Tubbington chimed in with a wink. He punched Elliott in the arm. “Good job getting the cavalry here so quick, kid.”

 Elliott shrugged but he looked pleased by the praise from his mentor. Rubbing his fingertips over his chin, he said, “My pleasure. So, since I guess there’s no emergency should I head home and tell the others what’s going on?”

 Kurt tore his eyes away from Adam, whose face his eyes had been scanning in minute detail for signs of pain or injury, and looked at his friend. “That would be great, Elliott, thanks again.”

 “You’re not going right away, I hope,” Carole said, making a half gesture towards the kitchen. “You’ll at least stay for dinner?”

 Kurt nodded. His eyes flickered toward Santana, sitting on the sofa next to Burt and looking like she was ready to fall asleep now that the excitement was over. “We’d love to. In fact, I think we might all be better off staying the night. Is it okay for the girls to use Finn’s room tonight?”

 “No, we’ll get out of your hair, but first you need to know what actually is going on,” Santana said, leveling herself reluctantly to her feet. Even though a couple of years had passed since her friend’s death, she was still very reluctant to tread where she might not belong when it came to Finn’s mother. “We’ll just catch you up on what we found, then Britt, Tubbs, and I will head back to my folks’ place. I think my mom might actually kill us if she finds out we hit town and failed to stop by and say hello again.”

 Carole and Burt nodded, understanding that sentiment perfectly.  

 By the time the girls and both Familiars had left, Santana offering to return in the morning to fetch the boys home, the Hummels’ faces were grim. Adam had calmed quickly once he was safely back in Kurt’s presence, but the day’s stresses had left him too exhausted to do more than sit next to Kurt in a comfortable loveseat and chime in an occasional clarification.

 “What a nightmare,” Kurt sighed, running a hand over his hair and wincing at how stiff it was from the sweat that he had never gotten to wash out. He grimaced, realizing that he was also smelling less than fresh in his soiled workout clothing. In spite of the warm house and Adam’s welcome body-heat, mid January was not a good time for sitting around in thin cotton pants and a sleeveless shirt, and his exposed arms were breaking out in goosebumps. “Part of me wants to march straight over to Blaine’s house and turn him into a grease-fire before he can do any more damage, but my session with Troy proved to me that I’m not ready for a magical winner-take-all battle, and physically I’m beat. Blaine could take me out with one half-hearted punch today.”

 “Then forget about him for now,” Burt advised. “I know you want to get this over with, and save poor Sam and those other kids, but you’ve gotta pick your battles and you don’t want to give that little shit any more of an advantage than you have to.”

 Carole nodded. “I agree. In fact, I think you should wait until after the wedding. If I correctly understand how this all works, the two of you will be far more powerful together once you’re married. Won’t your choice of a special magical day give you extra defense?”

 “She’s right,” Adam said quietly. “The exchange of formal vows on a High magic day will heighten our defenses. Not to mention the, erm . . .”

 “Wedding night?” Burt said wryly when Adam paused, shooting him a slightly guilty glance. “It’s okay, you can say it. The girls clued me in on a lot of witch related stuff the day they took me Christmas shopping with them, including the build up of power associated with sex.”

 Kurt felt his face turning red. “They did?”

 He laughed. “They did, and you don’t have to look so scandalized son. You’re a grown man and you two are in love and living together. It’s not exactly a big secret that you’re doing more than catching up on your beauty sleep every night. And even if you weren’t, we are talking about a wedding night here.”

 Adam laughed, and after a moment, Kurt joined him. He still was not used to being able to talk about such things with his father.

 “Meanwhile, I think Carole and I just might be able to find it in our hearts to track down Sam and offer him his old room back,” Burt continued, jaw setting in a determined manner. “I don’t know where he might be staying nowadays, but it sounds like he could use some looking after and I don’t trust that punk not to circle back for him if his relationship with that Karofsky kid doesn’t work out.”

 Kurt relaxed a little more. He and Sam had not been close friends after Blaine had come between them, but he still felt a bond of kinship with the first straight boy who had ever treated him without prejudice. Knowing that Blaine had gone after Sam, and now David as well, because of the connection to him made Kurt’s heart ache. And it would also be good for his dad and Carole to have a young man around the house again. They were doing well on their own, but it had not been easy for either of them to go from a full house to an empty nest so quickly. “I think that’s a great idea.”

 “So do I,” Adam agreed, his tone warm. “If anyone can heal that poor boy through the medium of tender loving care, it’s the two of you.”

 Happy to have at least a plan to be doing something to help, Carole got up and went into the kitchen to begin preparing dinner for four.

 Kurt stood as well, grimacing as he put a hand on his lower back and stretched, hearing the vertebrae crunch. “I’d better go take a shower. I didn’t get a chance earlier and I’m starting to stiffen up.” He hesitated, looking between his dad and Adam.

 Burt seemed to understand his reluctance to let Adam out of his sight after the fright they had shared. Rising from his own chair, he squeezed Adam’s shoulder and said, “C’mon with me, son. Carole just keeps a couple of quilts on Kurt’s old bed so it looks presentable. I’ll grab you some sheets, and maybe see if I can find something a little more your style than Sylvester’s track suit. Kurt’s room is upstairs and down the hall, right next door to the bathroom. You can’t miss it.”

 The unspoken inference that he would turn a blind eye should Adam wish to join Kurt in that place was not missed by either young man. Apparently Burt was taking his recent promise to treat Kurt like an adult seriously. Kurt gave the man a quick embrace, then kissed Adam’s cheek and ran upstairs.

 THE END