#and remember this idea i had for barry's worst memory

[hapuriainen]

Now that I've played at least one game in every Pokemon region, it is of course time for a ranking. Though note that the criteria is less based on how "good" I think the games are objectively and more on, like, vibes and such and if I have good memories of playing.

10. Sinnoh - This was the only gen I skipped when it came out because I didn't have a ds and didn't know how to emulate one, and when I finally did get one, Black & White were already out and Gen 4 was old news. But a while ago I did play Brilliant Diamond and really didn't have a good time at all. At that point everything felt extremely by-the-numbers and dated and I can't think of anything that this game offered that I didn't already get from the other titles. Some of the Gen 4 Pokemon are nice but it also has so many legendaries, which I really don't like as a concept (I mean I don't like it when the game tells me which Pokemon I'm supposed to find special and interesting). Also not a fan of the art style in the remake and I find Barry incredibly annoying.

Almost all of the BDSP customisation options were S-tier and Cynthia made for a great boss, but that's about it.

9. Kanto - I was there for the first anime episode so I have a lot of nostalgia for the early days for the franchise, even though I didn't get to play the original GB games. And when I did get Yellow on an emulator I already had Gold, which already covered Kanto so why bother? By now I've played Let's Go Eevee though and didn't really enjoy myself. The Kanto story is so nothing, and the motion controls just kill the whole thing for me. Also Trace is the worst rival character.

Most of my apathy towards Kanto is its overuse though, like the franchise has done interesting things beyond the original 151 but always when there's new forms or a major character hails from a different continent or whatever, its always Kanto and I've grown sick of it.

8. Galar - There are some characters I really like, but otherwise the Galar games felt pretty hollow. There's a lot of cool looking locations but there isn't any substance to them and you can't do anything in them, and the open area was a great concept but you can't do anything in it either. The giant forms don't do a lot for me either since I tend to prefer small and cute Pokemon so making them bigger and more ""badass"" usually doesn't work for me.

Out of all the Switch titles I like the Galar art direction best (as in how the characters look) at least.

7. Alola - I remember there being a lot of talk how the Alola games supposedly shook up the formula because they didn't have gyms, but, like, they totally had gyms, they were just outdoors and had a different name. My main memories of playing Moon are about being constantly interrupted by handholding and the unbearable Rotom Dex, and even with the setting being something completely different from usual, I barely remember anything about it. The customisation was surprisingly boring too and I couldn't care less for Z-moves or Ultra Beasts. Lillie is super cute though and Team Skull was a lot of fun and regional forms are an excellent idea, even if it was wasted on Kanto only in this generation.

6. Hoenn - I had Sapphire on an emulator and later a Alpha Sapphire, and I must say I didn't manage to finish either (I think I didn't even make it out of Mauville in that run), which is why I debated if I should put the Alola games higher just because I made it almost to the end there. But in the end I think Gen 3 did a lot more for the franchise, the berries, contests, secret bases, abilities and double battles are great. I don't have a lot of motivation to go back and finish Alpha Sapphire, all the surfing really doesn't sound inspiring, "too much water" isn't just a meme! Though maybe I should try at least.

5. Kalos - Now we get to the games where my feelings are a lot more positive. I remember being super stoked for the 3d graphics, and somehow for the fact that your character could sit down on a bench (???). The customisation is also great and roller skating was a fun way to get around. The story was pretty weak though and I really don't like the bland rival friend group. I dunno man, the more I think about it, the harder it is to think about things that actually matter to the gameplay experience that I really like, but regardless I have pretty good memories of Y.

4. Unova - White was my first game on an actual console (and not an emulator) so that alone makes it special to me. It's hard to come up with anything specific about the gameplay this time around either, but I remember having a good time, the world was fun to explore, N was a great rival and the story was good too. And the Big City of the region was amazing (and so was Kalos' for that matter) and the changing seasons made for beautiful graphics.

3. Paldea - The graphics were ugly and the performance was a mess, but I like nonlinear open world games okay? And honestly even that didn't work properly since the gym levels didn't scale and I unintentionally did the easiest gym fourth so I was stupidly overleveled, and the world wasn't that interesting to explore either. But I still had a decently good time and also the game had been patched by the time I got around to playing it so I didn't encounter that many bugs.

Also points for making the friendly rival and box art legendary into something I actually liked for once, the school stuff was fun (would've liked even more), the Arven story line is one of my favourite Pokemon stories, and the Area Zero part was great. And overall the game managed to make the overused "beat 8 gyms and deal with the evil team and local legendary" plot feel somewhat fresh.

2. Johto - The Kanto nostalgia pandering doesn't work on me, but Johto sure does. Gold was my first Pokemon game and I have so many good memories playing it, especially the nighttime Goldenrod city with the 8-bit music is my jam. I would also say that for its time it has been the best improvement on what came before, and of course it's the only time we get two games (or maybe 1,5) for the price of one instead of the other way around with the inclusion of Kanto. Then there is HGSS which contains still the best implementation of follower Pokemon. The story and characters will improve from here and the old gameplay jank doesn't really motivate me to revisit the games but they will always have a special place in my heart.

1. Hisui - There really isn't any contest here, the gameplay is simply so much better in LGA than in any of the others. Catching and battling Pokemon is so streamlined, the HM equivalents are useful and make exploring more enjoyable rather than being glorified keys, and the story is different for once. And I said I like nonlinear open world games but this is fine as well, when you get a huge area to explore at once, even when they're unlocked in an order. Like what I have an issue with is if you can't take three steps without running into an unskippable NPC scene or some arbitrary roadblock.

I do have issues though, the Pokemon box and Pokedex menu fiddling is atrocious and a way bigger issue here than in any of the other games since there's a lot more incentive to catch and use different Pokemon, I don't really like the art direction, and the customisation options suck and I had to use 90% of the default look for the whole game. But regardless I would really like it if the franchise went into this direction in the future.

[kitkatt0430]

4, 10, 17, 29, 41, 57 and 94 for ask game i feel like i got carried away a bit, sorry

4.) what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread?

i have so many plot bunnies that are either unwritten or in what feels like permanent WiP mode that I couldn't possibly remember which one came first.

But yeah, the oldest ones do fill me with a sort of dread. They're for fandoms I didn't end up writing for or no longer am interested in or may I am interested in the fandom but just opening a file to try to work on the idea makes my brain go blank.

... some day I'm gonna have to admit that Banjo-Kazooie novelization is never gonna happen.

10.) at what point in the process do you come up with titles, and how easy or hard is that for you?

I usually come up with a placeholder title before I start writing based off the plot idea. When I'm done writing, often that placeholder title still works just fine. But if the title no longer works or it's not really a title, then I'll name/rename the fic at that point.

17.) what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?

"Strong words for a guy who's been running around Central City dressed like an overripe banana," Hartley scoffed.  "Honestly... Eobard, was it?  If I'd known your aesthetic sense was that bad, I'd have never slept with you."

From Buzz Buzz

I've got a lot of favorite lines, but this was the first that came to mind this time around. It's just so much fun how fast Eobard utterly loses control of the situation because Hartley refuses to take him seriously.

29.) give us a spoiler for one of your stories.

In Timeless Nonsense I intend for Farooq to steal Barry's powers like in canon. However, since it's Barry's powers that let him handle his memories of the multitude of timelines so well... he's going to have a very hard time of it until his powers come back.

Eobard's going to have to take care of him as Barry deteriorates and is, perhaps, not particularly lucid at one point. All of this is happening after they've already taken a trip to the future and fixed Eobard's speed force connection, so it's not the worst timing for Barry to be at Eobard's mercy. But it is a pretty big turning point for both of them, as the choices Eobard's making are going to have a significant impact on how the Negative Speed Force views it's counterpart.

41.) what is the weirdest story idea you’ve ever had.

Timeless Nonsense maybe? Or The Man in the Lightning... any of The Banana Aesthetic series...

Ooooh, no, no, it's definitely The Central City Squirrel Revival.

57.) what is the last thing that a fic made you google when you were reading it?

I think it was a knitting technique? Or it might have been a song referenced in the fic.

I don't knit so it was interesting to see what the fic was referring to. But I don't remember if I enjoyed the song or not...

Anyway, it was definitely one of those two.

94.) do you prefer dialogue or description?

Description.

While I think most fics need a good balance of both, if I'm gonna write something experimental or weird then it's more likely to be description heavy than dialogue heavy. And if I write something really short, it's more likely to be only description than only dialogue.

[shrinkthisviolet]

🎯✂️💚 for Morgan :)

🎯: What do they do best?

Algebra!

✂️: What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

So this one is also with Eowells (which is probably less surprising than him being in one of her best memories).

When Morgan was around 13, things were...difficult. Eowells was in the midst of his plan, which was close to fruition. Everything was coming together, his Team was assembled, the construction of the particle accelerator was underway.

But Eowells was worried, paranoid. Failure wasn't an option, especially not now…and Morgan was old enough to take care of herself at home, wasn't she? He tried it out for a few nights, and she seemed fine. Everything was fine.

Except...it wasn't. Because Morgan was 13, and she was going through all the things 13-year-olds do. Puberty, hormones, wanting her father...he kept making her promises about spending more time with her, but he also kept forgetting, but he always told her that love meant keeping your word. It was so confusing, and she tried to tell him.

He brushed her off the first few times, promising improvement, but there was none. She got impatient, and that frustration leaked out in her words...eventually, he ran out of patience:

"Perhaps I should remind you, Morgan, which of us is the parent and which of us is the child?"

She startled—he'd never spoken to her this way. "I...I didn't mean—"

"I'm your parent," he interrupted coldly, "not the other way around. You ought to remember that.”

"I know that! I do! I just—"

"You just what? Thought yourself bigger than you are? I don't like this any more than you do, Starlight, but that doesn't give you the right to shout at me like that."

"I didn't shout!" She protested. "I didn't, I—"

"You just did."

"I’m not trying to—”

He sighed. "It's clear to me that you're far too hysterical to talk about this like an adult."

"Dad, please—!"

"Come find me when you've calmed down and you're ready to apologize."

"Apologize?! Dad—"

"Until you do," he replied sharply, "I won't say a word to you, Morgan. Because that is not how my child speaks to me."

She tried to apologize a few hours later. Tried again the next day, and the day after that. Each time, she got more and more desperate, hating the idea that she’d ruined the love her dad had for her.

Aunt Tina had said that was impossible. But Aunt Tina didn’t know everything.

Eowells took his sweet time forgiving her (days), and then he moved swiftly on, entertaining no notion of any such thing happening.

Morgan never said anything like that again.

(At least not until she met Barry, a few years later.)

💚: What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

Cis female, aroace!

oc ask game!

[coldflasher]

#when I rewatched the pilot for the first time in years the bbc sherlock annotations were a literal jump scare to me#that cursed cursed period of my life (age 13) that I had blocked out of my memory was forcibly pulled back up#audhd Barry Allen is so real to me.#the reason he had the lab to himself pre Julian is because no one could handle working along side him#and he and Julian are autistic in opposite directions and that’s why they fucking hate each other lmao#complete lack of proprioception makes him a hazard in that lab far before he gets struck by lighting in it @barrencelenny

YOU'RE SO RIGHT AND I SAID EXACTLY THIS THE OTHER DAY ON THIS POST

#wasn't it explicitly stated in canon that barry has his own lab specifically cos he can't play nice with the other CSIs? #i swear i remember that #he clearly prefers having his own lab and working by himself. which is why having to share his lab w julian in s3 grates on him #also (in my opinion) bc they're both autistic but in ways that do NOT gel well together #cos they both have a strong sense of justice but have very different ideas of how that justice should be served so they clash repeatedly #barry is an 'i only follow rules when they make sense to me' autistic #julian is an 'i follow all rules and procedures exactly to the letter because they're The Rules and must be adhered to' autistic #but it is very interesting that the show was like 'barry becomes director of the CSI division at CCPD despite breaking every departmental #regulation and being proven to be incapable of working with his colleagues to the point that he is completely ostracised by them' #he has a terrible attendance record and has been suspended and/or fired repeatedly #and has gone on 'extended leaves of absence' for months at a time due to being in a coma/trapped in the speedforce/other plot shenanigans #he invalidates every crime scene he works on bc he was actually in attendance at half of them as the flash. so if anyone knew (which we kno #captain singh did) any evidence from barry's cases should probably have been inadmissible in court due to the potential for tampering #it's a HUGE conflict of interest #he is the WORST candidate for department head surely. #ngl i tend to follow the writers' lead on this one and ignore all this stuff in fics cos i enjoy CSI barry as a concept #but realistically yeah he has a weird relationship with his job #he is good at it and clearly enjoys parts of it but he puts in bare minimum effort and clearly doesn't actually want to be there that much #he's so me coded

shaking hands right now for audhd barry allen, we just can't help being incredibly right about him, the evidence is right there

was rewatching the pilot again yesterday for fic reasons and thinking again about the sherlock-style screen annotations they had when barry was doing CSI work that they literally only did in the first ep and then never revisited again, presumably because they realized it'd be far too much effort to work out the details on such a precise level

and thinking about like. that barry allen with the hyper-precise exact measurements that he did by eye (with joe shaking his head in awe so you know that he's a CSI supergenius) vs. the leonard snart who timed his heists to the exact nanosecond (which again, presuming they ditched because it's a logistical nightmare to write dialogue that nitpicky and obsessive, and would be such a fucking pain to do on a week-to-week basis). like. yet another reason they are soulmates tbh. is audhd4autistic a thing the same way t4t is a thing? if it isn't then i'm making it a thing

[barry-j-blupjeans]

"I don't understand what's- what's up with the four of you," the Chalice said through June's mouth. Barry's memories, which has previously been flicking by at a quick pace, had cut into a long period of static. "First your friends, and now you. I just don't get it."

"Don't look at me," Barry said. "I understand this about as well as you do."

The memories abruptly cut back to normal, aside from the faint static buzz around some scenes. Barry saw his college graduation, his mother's funeral, and the space class he took in high school. They ran by birthdays, holidays, and Barry's unfortunate emo phase in seventh grade. They went so far back that they hit the earliest memory Barry could recall at all: Coming downstairs for a glass of water and catching his mother crying.

"Okay," June said. "Alright, let's see."

The memories shot forward in time again and Barry saw flickers of the only school dance he went through and his first girlfriend and the time he spent all of winter break in the library instead of with family. They hit the period of static again and June began to slow the memories down. Going at this much more mellow speed, a few moments of static revealed simple memories.

Barry, sitting at a round table with staticky figures around him, enjoying a meal.

Barry, holding his wand up defensively.

Barry, crying with a staticky someone rubbing his back.

Barry, playing the piano, laughing at a joke, writing in a notebook, holding someone's hand.

The memories slowed to a complete stop. The one that formed around them flared and flickered, the static covering almost the entire scene. He could make out a bed, and something that was maybe a desk shoved into the corner. Memory-Barry was sitting up in bed, reaching for his glasses. In the midst of static, someone was standing halfway between the bed and the door.

"This, uh, this is your worst memory," June said. "Well, no, actually, not exactly. You have a lot of bad memories, Barry, this is just the one you regret the most."

"I have no idea what's going on here," Barry said, honestly. When he tried to remember it, he couldn't. He had gotten up in the middle of the night for loads of reasons before, but none of them would qualify as worst memories. "Is it like, a memory loss thing? Because I know I'm- I'm getting up there but I'm not that old yet."

"It's not an age thing," June said. "Like I said, everyone else was like that too. You've just got-" she gestured vaguely to the scene as if that would help Barry understand it. Then she shook her head. "Ya know what? Nevermind. It doesn't really matter. Look, we've run through your memories and this is the one you feel worst about. Are you tellin' me you don't remember it?"

"I mean," Barry said, trying to recall anything. Maybe it was all the static in the room, but there was a headache growing behind his eyes. He shut them, thinking hard.

When he opened them again, the scene was still staticky, but individual parts of the room stood out more. There definitely was a desk in the corner, and a tall dresser nearby. There were crumbled-up papers over the floor and Barry could recognize his portable radio, which came into crystal clear view as he remembered it.

And the person between the bed and the door- the woman, who was still shroud in static, but had come more into focus like he had slightly adjusted a camera lens- she...

"She's leaving," Barry said. "And she doesn't come back."

"Oh," June said. She tilted her head at the scene and the headache worsened as he tried to hold onto it. "I'll give ya this, Barry, you're friends certainly couldn't clear up their minds like this. It makes my job a hell of a lot easier."

"Kinda gives me a headache," Barry said, blinking away the static that started to crop up at the edge of his vision.

"This'll be quick," June said, cracking her knuckles. "I'm getting the vibes now. I'm gonna offer you a deal, Barry, and I just want you to hear me out. This person- this woman here-" June walked towards the woman, circling around her. "I don't think you know her very well right now, but she was... important to you, Barry. Much more than you or I can understand right now.

"This is your worst memory," June said. "And you've seen a lot of bad things. But her leaving and never coming back has to be the worse. So what I wanna offer you, right now, Barry, is this: You take the chalice and you'll come back. Right back here to this moment, as she..." June paused and Barry feels a bit like the chalice is rooting around in his mind for something. "As she tells you to go back to bed. You'll wake up and you can make her stay."

There's an ache in Barry's chest, one that often doesn't show up unless he's having a panic attack. It's a burning kind of feeling that envelops his entire heart, leaving it raw. He didn't know why it was happening now, but he can't deny that the offer to go back is incredibly appealing in this moment.

"But," June said. "I can't lie to you. If you do this, you won't join the Bureau. You won't work with Magnus or Merle or Taako, you might not even meet them. You won't go out on missions or stop some other things from happening, and you definitely won't be coming here to Refuge. I understand that's a lot to ask of you, but..." she looked towards the woman again and Barry did too, unable to help himself. "She won't be gone. And I think, if your heart, Barry, you know which one you want more."

June sat on the bed and the static spread from under her, trying to consume the scene completely again. He pushed it back in his mind, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.

June didn't comment on it. And she didn't comment on the fact that when he opened his eyes, his gaze went right back to the woman. She came into view a bit better this time. She had on a robe of some kind and there was something hanging from her belt, most likely a weapon even if Barry couldn't conjure up the correct shape. And he tried, he tried focusing on her more, bringing her to the forefront of his mind, but all he gained was a headache and a feeling of dread in his gut. He couldn't remember her face. He didn't know who she was.

But he wanted to.

"Well," June said, after a few minutes of Barry trying and failing to visualize her. "I don't mean to rush ya, Barry, but this episode's only supposed to be an hour long and you're just standing here."

"Sorry," Barry said, shaking his head. The room slipped back into total static. The bed June was sitting on could no longer be distinguished between that and the floor. The woman blended back in, barely noticeable. June stood up, stretching, and said,

"Let's get you back to your friends."

And Barry... Barry made his choice.

[ghostypetrainer]

just love the idea of ingo just chilling in sinnoh. trains arent common in sinnoh so hes got nothing to spark more specific memories. sure he vaguely remembers pokecenters but who knows how long those have been around. sometimes he visits akari. someone posts a picture of him on poke facebook and their grandchild who moved to unova is the one to recognize ingo.

love the idea of him visiting Akari because it adds a whole new layer to this. It means that somehow, for a full year Ingo travels between Celestic and Twinleaf Town and somehow in that time, he literally never crosses paths with anyone who could identify him. Barry literally lives next door to Akari, and his dad is a frontier brain but since he doesn't pay attention to other regions he doesn't realize Ingo is the equivalent of one in another region. He's sure strong though!

Akari just tells her mom that she met the guy in Hisui and that he really helped take care of her there! And Johanna is just like ah yes. a time traveler from the past, and somehow it never gets brought up that Ingo *also* mysteriously appeared in Hisui one day. And honestly Ingo's memories of modern technology are murky enough that he sells the idea of being a dude from the past really well.

Ingo is just happy to have someone he knows in this strange new time! Much better than the last time he was yeeted through time and had to start literally from scratch. And everyone in Celestic Town is so very kind to him! He doesn't know what this 'pokebook' Miss Sharon is talking about is, but he is happy to take a photo with her for it. He knows what photos are!

Meanwhile, Emmet gets forwarded a link through the official Gear Station twitter account and just loses his entire mind. He's in Sinnoh? He's been in Sinnoh this entire time?????

(Also the idea of like, the old ladies of Celestic Town just fussing over Ingo's worst Hisui-born habits. Young man, don't slouch like that! You'll ruin your back! You will be taking seconds, and I will have no ifs ands or buts about it, mister! Ingo starts getting eight hours of sleep again bc the woman whose spare room he lives in goes to bed at nine.)

[princecameronlovedacommoner]

all i can think of right now is topper finding out about rafe and barry being fuck buddies and him getting all protective and rafe trying to convince him barry’s chill

Okay so this turned out pretty fluffy hehe Or at least it’s a super fluffy ending. I hope you like it and thank you for your prompt!!! :)

(Warnings: Mentions of suicidal thoughts, hospitalization, and rehab for an addiction)

A few tough topics in the characters’ pasts but I swear it’s a nice happy ending for everyone!

“Sooo, this is the new place, huh?” Topper eyed each corner of the screened in patio carefully, as if he were expecting a terrible surprise if he sat down in the wrong place.

Rafe couldn’t exactly blame him for that. He had found a few needles in the couch cushions once upon a time, before he’d moved in permanently and cleaned the place up. But Barry didn’t deal with the hardcore shit anymore and customers weren’t always lingering all over the place now that there was a legal storefront where they could pick up their weed then take it home to smoke.

“Home sweet home.” Rafe confirmed, tossing Topper a beer when he finally settled on a place to sit down. “Like what I did with the furniture out here? Now these couches match the one in the living room.”

Topper nodded with a thoughtful hum. “Sugar Daddy let you splurge a little on the remodeling?” He questioned and Rafe rolled his eyes.

“Shut up. He’s not my sugar daddy. We’re getting married.”

Topper hadn’t opened his drink yet, even as Rafe was downing his own, perched contently on the armrest next to his best friend and just looking like he was at ease with the world.

That was a look Topper had never seen on Rafe, but still, he wasn’t going to just give this guy his blessing without making him work a little first. He’d heard some troubling stories about Rafe’s knight in not so shiny armor, and he felt it was his responsibility to look out for his buddy, since Ward Cameron obviously wouldn’t.

“You look…happy?” Topper tried to sound convincing, like he actually bought the idea already that Rafe was making the right call with this guy.

“You sound surprised.” Rafe raised a brow, setting his beer aside and wiping a line of foam from his mouth. “Look, man, I know it’s not figure eight worthy or anything but it’ll grow on you.”

“Rafe.” Topper ran his hands over his face.

“It’s not the scum on the siding is it?” Rafe asked. “Barry’s uncle’s supposed to come and power wash that before the wedding.”

“No, no, the house isn’t the problem, man.” Topper met Rafe’s eyes again, gathering the courage to ask him some harder questions. “I’m worried about you being with this dude.” He confessed. “I know he sells pot in town now, but he used to be a coke dealer right?”

Rafe scrunched up his nose. “Used to be doesn’t mean he is now.” He huffed defensively. “I used to be an addict. Now I’m not. And Barry changed a lot for me…”

“Didn’t he get you addicted in the first place?”

“So fucking what?” Rafe growled, doing his best to remember the breathing techniques that were supposed to help him settle in moments of frustration and anger. “He got clean when I did.” He told Topper, fists slowly beginning to unclench at his sides. “And if it wasn’t for him, I’d still be a mess in the head. You know he was the one who finally took me to talk to somebody, right? Ward didn’t do shit besides throw a few checks to the rehab place…Barry was there for me, man. When I went in, when I got home. He really got me through everything. Even now he always keeps up with my appointments, reminds me to take my pills and all that.”

Topper felt a bit guilty now. He’d just assumed that it had been Ward who finally caved and started paying attention to Rafe’s problems.

That is what a father would do, after all. Eventually. Hopefully. But in Rafe’s case, apparently his “father” hadn’t come through. His fiancé had.

“Did he uh…Did he take you to the hospital that one night?” Topper inquired. He tried to keep the memories of that particular evening to a minimum. It scared him even now, thinking of Rafe in the worst state he’d ever been in, storming out of his house with a gun and shouting about putting himself out of his own misery. He’d claimed it would be the best thing for them all.

It wouldn’t have been and Topper knew it even then, but while his words hadn’t been enough to stop Rafe that night, this new guy’s supposedly had.

Topper called Rafe’s phone a million times after he’d left and finally the next morning he’d gotten a text back.

“Rafe’s fine. Took him to ER. They keepin him for a few days.”

Topper had this confirmed himself, hurrying to the hospital and asking after his best friend, almost sobbing and tears ready to pour down his face as he panicked to the nurse at the front desk of the psychiatric ward.

“Mr. Cameron is safe and that is all I can tell you for now.”

Normally Topper would argue for more information but the knowledge alone that Rafe was still breathing was plenty to put his mind at ease.

At least it was until Rafe disappeared for a long time after that.

Topper had gotten one phone call and this time it was Rafe himself, just after getting out of the hospital three days after the incident.

“Listen, I’m going away for a bit.” He’d told Topper. “If Dad asks, tell him I’m fine. I’ve got a um…a friend…with me. He’s gonna take me to Dallas. There’s a rehab program there that’s supposed to be good.”

Topper remembers feeling relieved and fearful at the same time, happy for his friend that he was finally getting some help but wondering who on earth he’d gotten mixed up with that was taking him all the way to Texas.

“Tell your friend to take care of you, alright, man?” He’d pleaded with Rafe. “Stay safe, bud. We’ll celebrate when you come back.”

“For sure.” Rafe hadn’t sounded very hopeful then but now, Topper saw a completely different person when he looked at his best friend.

He was happy, peaceful, finally able to live his life without fear of Ward’s tyranny…and he was getting married soon. To a guy that Topper still hadn’t met, but that had done a lot for Rafe.

When the front door to the trailer opened and shut and footsteps could be heard walking through the living room, Topper wasn’t sure whether he wanted to try to be as thankful or as intimidating as possible.

“Yo, baby!” A thickly accented voice called once the man it belonged to reached the kitchen to grab a drink for himself out of the fridge. “You home? Where’s your little friend, huh? Thought we was grabbin’ somethin’ to eat!”

“Out here!” Rafe answered, smiling even before his fiancé came to stand in the doorway of the patio.

He looked like quite a rough character, and in fact…Topper recognized him.

“You!?” He let the demand for an explanation fall straight from his dropped jaw.

“Yeah, me.” Barry snorted, setting the beer he was carrying aside and holding his arms out for Rafe. “Where’s my welcome home kisses, sweet thang. Come here and let me squeeze you a little.” He pulled Rafe into his arms and held him tight, kissing against his neck and then pressing one gentle peck to his lips. “Thought I told you not to go gettin any prettier while I was gone.” He grinned, and Rafe just looked so…in love? Topper couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Hey tone it down in front of Top, babe. Alright?” Rafe was blushing and unable to hide the fond little grin he wore once Barry sat him back down. “He’s a little squirmy about this kinda thing.”

Barry turned to look at Topper, eyes scanning the younger man up and down before he nodded his approval. “You the one that calls in to check on Country Club all the time, ain’t ya?” He asked.

Topper nodded. “He’s my best friend.” He confirmed to Barry. “Just wanna be sure he’s doing alright still.”

Barry gave Topper a friendly smile then and whacked him on the back in a brotherly manner. “You alright, man. We’ll get along just fine…Baby Cakes? You take your medicine this mornin’ after I left?” His full attention was back on Rafe, sitting back on the nearest couch and pulling his fiancé down onto his lap to hug on him.

Alright. This was good. Topper was convinced that he could be friends with Barry.

Maybe Rafe had better taste in men than he’d once thought.

[youhearstatic]

After the Story and the Song...

“Those bandages are filthy,” Lup says. 

It’s a second before Barry realizes she’s talking to him. He’d been staring, lost, reveling in the sound of her voice, dumbstruck that’s she’s made the sounds herself it’s not just an echo his brain produced as a trick. 

And also he’d forgotten he’d been injured. 

He looks down and yeah, the quickly patched up bandage a harried healer had wrapped around his shoulder and upper arm during a brief respite in the fighting has seeped through with blood and whatever fluids leaked out of the shadow monsters they’d been fighting. 

“Yeah,” he says disinterestedly. His offhand comes up to scratch his jaw, fingers rasping against his stubble, but he makes no other move in response. 

Lup laughs and the sound is bright and cheering. It’s dark out - true dark, not the stuff brought on by the apocalypse - but the sound of Lup laughing makes him feel sundazed and giggly. He remembers a distant cousin at a long ago family reunion whose toddler had sat on a blanket in the sun delighted by everything the world had presented her that day. That’s how he feels now, like a child grasping their pudgy little hands, trying to hold all the delicious goodness around them. 

“We need to do something about that, babe,” she prompts but he hears the same humor in her voice as in her laugh, knows she understands and feels the same. 

“You’re here,” he says. It’s not the first time he’s said it. Even in the midst of the battle they’ve just been through, ever so often he’d turned to see her red spectral shape and with a tone of absolute amazement said those same words again and again. 

Which is maybe how he ended up sliced from shoulder to elbow, actually. Lup blasted the clawed shadow that ripped the jagged wound open before it could strike again and render him a lich. When the shadow disintegrated, she’d reminded him to try and stay a little more focused. 

Now the shadows are gone and they’re both free to just fucking bask for a minute. It’s all he can do: look at her. 

Taako checked in once during the battle then just a minute ago as they were wiping up the last of the things. It had only been a few stragglers, injured and striking out at anything, after the rest had simply stopped. Taako had said where he was going but, for Barry, those details are hazy at the moment. 

Lup’s here. 

“Let’s get you to a healer, babe,” she says and his mouth stretches into a grin. 

He swipes a dirty hand across his face, smearing - well, let’s call it grime and leave it at that - across newly minted tear tracks. His emotions are in overdrive at the moment, everything feels turned up to eleven when he looks at her shimmering form and reminds himself that it’s actually over and she’s here. 

Her magic sparkles over him, familiar even after more than a decade where it wasn’t even a memory half the time. 

“How do you still have spell slots?” he asks. His own magic ran out ages ago, leaving him swinging a rough wooden improvised mace for a while until his injury made even that impossible. 

“I am magic,” she reminds him. 

He laughs, a bit chagrined because duh, he knew that but also just because she’s here and everything is kinda funny and wonderful. 

He runs his hand over his face again, exhaustion creeping up on him fast now that the fighting is over. “The healers’ll have their hands full,” he tells her, reluctant to bother anyone when, after all, worst case scenario he’s got a get-out-of-jail-free card, so to speak. 

Lup must read his thoughts cause he feels the subtle charge of displeasure in the feel of her magic. “Huh uh, buster, you’re keeping that fine body of yours intact even if I have to stitch you up myself.”

“I just meant I’d take care of it later,” he counters half heartedly because honestly, it’s just a little blood. It takes more than this to stop him. He should know. He’s done the research. 

She makes a tut-tut kind of noise and he wonders briefly how she even does that without a mouth or tongue but then she’s using her magic to peel the bandage back and, oh, fuck. “Yeah, okay,” he concedes, because hell a-mighty just that bit of jostling hurts. 

Her response makes him curious again because how do you snort when you’re a lich? He’s pretty sure he can’t do that. 

A ball of water is summoned above him and then, carefully (though he has all ideas she considered handling it differently) she lets a stream of it run down over his wound, rinsing away the assorted gore to soak into the ground with the rest of the runoff. 

Lup hums to herself as she works and he’s struck again: Lup’s here. 

Reaching up with his offhand he trails his fingers delicately along what would be the edge of her sleeve. It’s a subtle thing, feeling the difference between air and the magic that makes Lup, but he’s particularly attuned to it. 

“Stop distractin’ me, handsome,” she admonishes lightly, her voice that wonderful teasing tone he knows so well. 

“You’re here,” he says again and this time it’s a bit less dazed and a bit more certain. “I thought I dreamed you,” he says. Because he did. So many times he woke up, not knowing where he was or what he was doing, but sure someone - SHE - was supposed to be there. “Thought I was losin’ my godsdamned mind,” he mutters. Because he’d thought that too. 

Then another thought hits him. “How did you survive?” Because for all he’s been through, she was alone and trapped. 

Her form seems to stiffen slightly, though she doesn’t pause at all in her diligent care of his wound. “It…” She sighs, and continues, and if he wasn’t so concerned, he’d be sidetracked again wondering where a sigh comes from for a lich. “It wasn’t great,” she says lightly. “But I wasn’t really aware for a lot of it.”

He senses that what she was aware of was terrible and he’s nearly blinded by the keen need to hold her, so acute it steals his breath for a moment. 

“But as you’ve noticed,” she continues, “I’m here. That’s what matters.”

He nods, head bobbing forcefully as his throat works to push air around the heavy knot of emotion that’s formed there. 

“I heard you,” she tells him. “I… I heard a lot of things and I know how hard you were trying.”

It’s all he can do to swallow back the sudden influx of new tears. After he’d seen Taako with the umbrastaff… he’d worried what it meant. Later, once he realized where she was, it was all he could do not to snatch the umbrella out of Taako’s hands and snap it. Only fear that breaking it wouldn’t save her, might actually make things worse, had stopped him. He’d figured they’d talk after everyone had their memories back - if there was an after - and figure it out from there. 

“I should have broken the fucking thing outside Refuge,” he apologizes. She could have been out months ago, could have - oh fuck, he realizes, suddenly nauseous with the realization - she could have been in a body by now. 

“Shush it, Bluejeans. It worked out.” 

That’s all she says and he lets it go. There will be time to talk about it all later. 

For a few minutes they’re just silent together while she works. She rinses the bandage and hits it with a Prestidigitation spell then reapplies it. The material is cool on his hot skin, still slightly damp. 

“That’ll hold you for a little while,” she says. “But you’re finding a healer tomorrow. I’ll drag you to one by your black leather belt if it comes to it.”

“Whatever you say, Lup.”

Her magic ruffles through his hair, pulling it slightly the way she has a hundred times when teasing him and he feels the smile spread across his face again. 

She snorts a laugh and he reminds himself to ask her later how she does that. 

Because there’ll be time for that, he thinks. 

Time. They have all the time in the world again.

[slythraco]

Julian Albert - SFW ALPHABET

Author’s note: Took a break in my requests to write this ! Might do the NSFW version if you’d like it ! Let me know if you would like to see this with his other characters too 😉 have fun !

Masterlist

————————

A = Attraction (how do they show their attracted to you?)

Julian is not really the expressive type, always preferred to hide his feelings and emotions behind a wall of coldness and anger. So making you understand he likes you was quite a challenge for him. He started by complimenting you sometimes, which surprised you every time.

He would also help you with your work without you asking, then make it pass like a act of kindness because he’s in his ‘good day’ rather then assuming the real reason.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/why not?)

Yes ! Absolutely, Julian and you always talk about finding a family one day. Even if he’s scared of the idea of being a father, you’re always there to comfort him, knowing he would make an amazing father.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

Julian is a sucker for cuddles, he just love feeling your body against his. Every time you’re not far away from each other (and in private) he just feel the need to take you in his arms. So when you’re both at work, he take a break just to meet you at your desk who is literally 2 meters away and give you a good hug before going back.

When you’re home, he loves to sit in bed, his back against the headboard, you between his legs while you read a book together. This position gives him room to kiss your neck and collarbones, but he can also touch your thighs or higher if he doesn’t feel like reading.

D = Dates (What are dates like with them?)

It’s all or nothing, he can either prepare the best night ever, Diner with candles, Sky gazing after a good meal, date in a gastronomic restaurant or just share a glass of whine at his home while dance to random musics. But you like these both ways of doing it. A good moment with Julian is always good to take.

E = Emotions (Do they express their emotions? If so, how?)

It was a big problem in the beginning of your relationship, the fact that he didn’t really open up to you to show his feelings. He was still protecting himself from getting hurt. But once he did it one time, and finally realises that you would never in any circonstances, judge him or leave him for what he truly feels. He became the most expressive person he’s ever been, he tells you everything that’s on his mind and it makes him very happy to have found someone to talk to about what’s going trough his mind. And you’re probably the only person that gets to see him like that.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love)

One day you got attacked by a meta-human, you got harmed a little bit but it was enough to make Julian scared and start freaking out. That’s when he realised how much he didn’t to lose you and how deeply in love he was.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

Gentle in his gesture, yes. Gentle in his words, no. Hear me out. Julian is the most attentive person, the last thing he wants is to hurt so when he’s hugging you or kissing you, it’s gentle and full of his love.

But sometimes, when he gets angry or is in a bad mood he can get rude in his words or get violent. Careful, he could never lay a hand on you, he would breaks things around him rather then get physical to you. But yeah, be prepared he can get really rude to you but he will always regret what he said and always excuse himself until you forgive him but he would certainly blame himself for the rest of his life.

H = Hands (Do they hold hands? If so, how?)

Yes, everywhere, Julian is not really into PDA but if there’s one thing to steal from it it’s this. When you’re walking outside, arriving at work, sitting next to each other, he always find a way to grab your hand and it’s honestly, adorable.

I = Impression (What was their first impression of you?)

Being his colleague, Joe had to warned him of your your coming in the office. It kinda bored Julian at first, knowing he’d have to share his lab with another person annoyed him but as soon as he saw you, all his bad thinking flew away.

He found you really nice, intelligent and way more punctual than Allen. And also really beautiful, you blew him away by your intelligence also. He really thought you were too good to be true.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Yes, Julian is a really insecure person, he’s always scared of loosing you so when he sees you talking to another men he would almost always ask you about him afterwards.

If the person your talking to gets a little bit too touchy for his taste he would intervene and either call you by your affectionate nickname (my love, my heart, my darling,...) or he would kiss you to make it clear who you belong to.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who intiated the first kiss?)

His kisses are always gentle and full of love or passionate, he’s mostly the one to kiss you first just because he can’t contain himself when you’re around him. He could spend his whole life kissing your lips.

L = Love language (What are their love languages?)

Gifts, gifts, gifts. He loves to cover you with gifts. He likes to buy you little things that remind him of you. That’s his way of telling you he loves you.

M = Mornings (Are they a morning person? What are they like in the morning?)

It depends, on day work, since Julian is very focused on punctuality he can gets pretty stressful in the morning. Running everywhere to be ready in time, and make sure he tie is perfect.

But I’m off days, he’s the biggest lazy guy in town. Mostly because he loves just to lay in bed and cuddle with you rather then get up and start the day.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil you? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Like I said before, Julian loves to buy you things so yes he spoils you A LOT ! And when you want him to buy you something, he can’t resist, always wanting to put a smile on your face.

O = Open (Do they say everything about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or overtime?)

Like mention before, It took a while to Julian to finally open up to you but as soon as he feels safe enough, he tells you everything !

P = Patience (Do they have patience? Are they angered easily?)

Julian has zero patience, he gets mad when he doesn’t have what he wants right now. It amuse you sometimes so you tease him with it but it’s is at your own risk.

Q = Quaint (What’s their favorite non modern thing to do?)

Julian as a disc record player in his appartement, he loves to listen to old vinyl with you. You learns to dance a slow with him thanks to it.

R = Remember (What’s their favorite moment in the relationship?)

It’s hard to choose but probably the day you accepted to be his girlfriend, it was such a magical day. He prepared a wonderful date that night, he made a whole delicious meal for you to to share together in his appartement. You slowed dance in his living-room and then his kisses you for the first time before asking you to be his after admitting his feeling to you. You spent the rest of the night cuddling and kissing like teenagers, it really is an amazing memory.

S = Security (How protective are they?)

He globally trust you so he’s not really overly protective, unless you propose you help to the flash team. Even more since you got attacked by a meta not long ago, this is the only time he can get really protective.

Otherwise he’s just normally protective, telling you to be careful when you come back late from work, etc. But it’s always in a cute and loving way never toxic or anything, he just cares about your safety like any boyfriend would.

T = Talking (what do they like to talk about?)

Obviously, sciences and all of that, but he also loves to talk about you, he always want to know more about you, your past, your family. Every little knew information about you makes him really happy.

U = Ugly (Whats a bad habit of theirs?)

Criticising EVERYTHING and everyone. That’s one of us default he always finds someone to say about something (especially Barry Allen), he can be either funny because we all know how sassy Julian is but it can be annoying sometimes.

V = Vaunt (Do they like to show you off?)

Yes ! He’s always so happy to present you as his girlfriend. He’s so proud to have you by his side. The worst thing is when someone goes to him and say ‘No way, you’re really dating Y/N’ with that, you’re stuck with him for an eternity, he will be doomed to hear him boast of having a wife as brilliant as you.

W = Whole (Do they feel incomplete without you?)

Absolutely, Julian would be lost without you. You’re his everything, all he does is to make you happy so yes.

X = Xylophone (What’s a song that reminds of your guy’s relationship?)

Can’t help falling in love - Elvis Presley

You two danced to this song the night he kissed you for the first time.

Y = Yuck (What’s something they hate that you do?)

Teasing him, you love to make him crazy and angry because let’s face it, Julian angry is the sexiest thing ever.

Z = Zzz (Are they a heavy or a light sleeper ?)

Heavy sleeper for sure, when he finally leaves work and get to bed, you never hear about him again before he wakes up the next day.

[tabriscadash]

I was asked this on my old blog right as I set about transitioning to this one, so...

The first character I ever fell in love with: for DA:O, dare I say Daveth? What can I say -- I irrationally got incredibly attached to him. otherwise, DEFINITELY Morrigan, and I have crystal clear memories of my first run through Lothering and looking at Morrigan like 😍 the whole time. For DA:2/E, Carver -- unless you count Anders & Justice since I knew of them from Awakening beforehand, in which case probably Justice. For DA:I, it’s a toss-up between Vivienne or Cole -- I technically liked Cole first but SPECIFICALLY in the supporting material (Asunder), and didn’t vibe with him anywhere near as much in the game, AND I got him as a companion after I got Vivienne, so probably Vivienne.

A character that I used to love/like, but now do not: for DA:O, I guess Oghren? I never loved him, but I liked the idea of him because I really liked the dwarves/Orzammar side of DA’s worldbuilding -- but he’s such an unlikeable character that I just.. don’t vibe with him at all. I debate recruiting him every single time now, and I don’t think I ever do his personal quest (in the base game OR Awakening). for DA:2/E, I don’t really have anyone that fits -- but I REALLY wanted to like Merrill and Aveline more than I did, and especially in Aveline’s case, I can’t stand her and genuinely think she’s the unintended, secret Big Bad of the whole game. for DA:I, probably Cole, bc I was really into the idea of a little walking-corpse serial killer animated by a spirit as per the book, but that’s not really the vibe in DA:I, and combined with the somewhat patronising/ableist language and how significantly he is infantilised (including by the fandom) I just got put off him. I do still like him, but not as much.

A ship that I used to love/like, but now do not: for DA:O, I don’t really have one? I guess see my DA:I answer, lol... for DA:2/E, has to be Anders - I don’t think he’s OOC in 2, but I think his writing does so little with him and he feels v. reductive. Where his relationship could be SO interesting and angsty, it instead is written in a really dull and/or cringey way. It would have been nice to see Anders more like the Anders of Awakening near the beginning of the game (rather than random, infrequent and questionably rare snippets), and then see the progression of his relationship with Justice as the game went on -- I want more interesting abominations, PLEASE. for DA:I, listen I cannot express to you HOW EXCITED I was for my planned Lavellan to romance Sera… also I used to be way more tolerant of Cullen x Amell/Surana ships because, like, hey dark ships are fun, right? But since Cullen’s ~wholesome whitewash~ in DA:I, and his fandom clamouring to absolve him of any wrongdoing ever.. it’s boring to me.

My ultimate favourite character™: for DA:O, probably Sten? or Morrigan. They’re both fantastic, and also are significant comfort chars for me. for DA:2/3, honestly, probably my own Hawke -- I feel so hugely proud of her, and can’t imagine I’d enjoy the game anywhere near as much had I not played it as my Hawke. If not her, maybe Sebastian or Carver? for DA:I, I really love Vivienne, as well as Blackwall, and Solas is a great character even if I probably would not say I liked him.

Prettiest character: for DA:O, we all know it’s Zevran. for DA:2/E, I think Aveline -- although her aggressively bland colour-scheme lets her down in a major way (although I respect her dedication to all orange all day every day). There’s just something about her arms -- very Abby from TLOU:2. for DA:I, maybe Josephine? Ser Barris is very pretty, too...

My most hated character: for DA:O, I really didn’t like Alistair, Wynne and Oghren, and of my companions - Oghren is probably my least favourite. He’s vulgar and also profoundly uninteresting. for DA:2/E, it has to be Aveline. There’s just something about ineptitude and a complete, wilful refusal to take accountability for your actions that I can’t stand. It would be okay if it was an intentional character flaw, but the game/narrative treats her like she’s lawful good and it really annoys me. for DA:I, maybe Iron Bull? He was a huge disappointment for me. I also really dislike Sera, Cassandra, and Varric. I’m so sick of Varric - I never want to see him again.

My OTP: for DA:O, I really loved Zevran’s romance -- but I am also very amused by the fact that Leliana got to ‘love’ status with Kallian accidentally, AND I got the ‘love’ glitch for Justice (👀) and Velanna. I do sometimes wonder about an AU where Kallian is forced to make a politically expedient marriage with Nathaniel Howe for diplomatic reasons in order to consolidate her position as Arlessa, and it being an entirely platonic arrangement (it’s not like anyone expects an heir from an infertile Grey Warden) -- and maybe Zev and Nate kiss sometimes, who knows? I also LOVE my Darkspawn Chronicles AU where Kallian and Nelaros are a happy, married couple each hiding their skills with weapons from each other like dumb, cute sweethearts. They shelter Zevran when he fails to kill Alistair and a poly couple evolves. for DA:2/E, I love the IDEA of a Seb romance that isn’t so strictly conditional around the structures that abused him -- he should be allowed to love, chastely or otherwise, but free from the Chantry OR his position as prince/heir. I’d LOVE to actually have a romance with him where you can actually challenge the abuse he’s experienced. for DA:I, Malika doesn’t have a canon romance (although I think when I replay, I’m going to romance Josephine!) but I think Blackwall has an amazing romance. Solas’ is also iconic, it must be said. 

My NOTP: for DA:O, I really dislike Alistair in a shipping capacity; he’s immature and says a lot of misogynistic shit and I don’t think he’s the worst for it, but I don’t really vibe with shipping him, having played the game as a female city elf. for DA:2/E, I wouldn’t say I have one, particularly? although I really dislike Aveline’s relationship with her husband simply because it seems incredibly inappropriate, given that they work together and she has power over him -- and because I dislike her, generally, I don’t feel inclined to do something nice for her. for DA:I, I suppose Sera/Lavellan -- although I’m not AGAINST it, it just really isn’t for me, having attempted it. I also don’t really vibe with Dorian x Iron Bull. Something abt the way the game handled BDSM and their relationship banter specifically I don’t really like.

Favourite episode quest: for DA:O, probs Orzammar/the Deep Roads. I really love the dwarven lore! and, of course, Fort Drakon is really funny, even though it’s not canon in my game iirc. for DA:2/E, maybe the murder mystery with the serial killer, where ultimately Leandra dies? I also really enjoyed all the companion quests. for DA:I, The Descent (just, all of it, lmao) and everything to do with the Avvar. Crestwood also BANGED.

Saddest death: for DA:O, it’s frankly a fucking INJUSTICE that Shianni gets murdered if you make her Bann of the Alienage -- the idea of that happening whilst Kallian is in Amaranthine and unable to protect her :( genuinely very upsetting. I go back and forth on who is made Bann, tbf, so idk how canonical it is: I think maybe Cyrion would get it, but I’m also endeared to Soris holding the position, with Shianni as Hahren. for DA:2/E, Bethany. I wish both twins had had the chance to reach Kirkwall :(. Let Leandra die instead. for DA:I, maybe not the saddest death, but the most memorable for me was that one sleeping dragon in the Hissing Wastes.. leave her alone. Stay out of a womans’ business.

Favourite season game: DA:O!

Least favourite season game: DA:I.

Character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but I hate: for DA:O, Alistair. I cannot deal with his complacency and hypocrisy. for DA:2, I really disliked Merrill but I honestly cannot remember why. DEFINITELY Varric -- I hated how the game forces you to be his best friend, and if you’re low approval, you have to endure these pointless pissy little comments with this little anti-dwarf centrist pissant. After the expedition, I literally have no reason to put up with him, and I NEVER take him out. I hate that he plays the same role in DA:I, too. for DA:I, the Iron Bull was hugely disappointing, and I also really don’t vibe with Cassandra. She just seems very wishy-washy and complacent and hypocritical, and many of her comments about other cultures seem snide for literally no reason other than bigotry. 

My ‘you’re a piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: for DA:O, lbr probably Sten. Mans is gonna launch a HORRIFYING invasion in the next game iirc and frankly, I’m ok with it. Just wanna see that big bastard again ❤🥵. for DA:2/E, I LOVE Gamlen, ok? for DA:I, I am not sure if I have one.

My ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: for DA:O, if any of you so much as LOOK at Velanna wrong, it’s hands. That includes Bioware. I also feel incredibly protective of and sad for Morrigan. for DA:2/E, probably Sebastian -- I feel so sad for him, and so frustrated by the limitations with the game. for DA:I, I’m honestly not sure.. maybe Josephine? I don’t really feel this way about Sera, but I do think she deserves better from the game and its writing, and also from fandom: there are valid criticisms of her, but the hate she gets is not proportional to any valid issues with her -- and gee, I wonder why that is.

My ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: for DA:O, I did use to find Cullen x Surana/Amell intriguing as a dark ship -- I actually hc that Neria Surana is actually Nelaros’ sister, and have dabbled with it as a dark ship. I also am interested in Loghain/Alistair - which each pretends the other is someone else. Alistair is wooby, hate ships are, in general, fun -- so long as we acknowledge that they are, indeed, unhealthy ships. for DA:2/E, I kind of feel like Sebastian romances are, invariably, kind of dark... and, similarly, Anders romances -- especially with certain red Hawkes, The way it ends is, invariably, bordering on fucked up. ALSO Hawkecest is weird and wonderful: GET WITH IT. 

My ‘they’re kind of cute, and I lowkey ship them, but I’m not too invested’ ship: for DA:O, I joked about Velanna x Leliana once and I’ve not been able to stop thinking about it ever since… Velanna x Sigrun is also something that can be so personal. Ariane x Finn is adorable and are paid DUST by Bioware AND fandom. I actually am really into Anora x Nathaniel & NO I will NOT explain myself; it’s a crackship but it’s MY crackship. for DA:2/E, Isabela x Fenris is super cute, but I don’t pay enough attention to them to really have super committed thoughts & feelings on them. for DA:I, Blackwall x Josephine is cute as a background ship; I also think Maryden x Cole is sweet.

[chelseamount]

Enough About Heather! Part two

(gif by: @rafecameron)

A/n: PART TWO IS HERE GUYS! I hope you guys will enjoy it, please comment your thoughts it makes my day! thank you all for the support on part one. I love you all

READ PART ONE RIGHT HERE

wordcount: 3,3k+

Based on: Before you go by lewis capaldi and A little heather by conan gray but that was part one

Warnings: a lot of angst, fighting, crying, yelling, blood, considering of suicide probs more

---

Place: Outer banks

One year before the accident

Rafe's Pov

I fell by the wayside like everyone else I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, but I was just kidding myself

"dude you need to focus on something else than Y/n and JJ," Topper says to me as he takes a sip of his beer

"But look at them they think they're special or something" I scoff

"dude she's your best friend, besides they aren't dating and you know that"

"then why the fuck are they hugging."

"you and Y/n do that all the time you're just friends"

of course, he wouldn't understand, he never does it might be because no one knows about my feelings for Y/n, hiding them is better anyway. Cause Y/n and I have been best friends for longer than I can remember, but as we got older, I started realizing my true feelings for the girl that has always helped me through everything.

"I think I'm heading home," I say as I pick up my stuff

"But what about golf," Kelce says as he raises his arms in the air.

"another day," I walk away, but the sweet voice that I know so well takes over my mind as I hear her scream. I quickly turn around I am now greeted with Y/n in the water with JJ while splashing water at him, we get eye contact as she waves at me. I turn around and scoff.

---

Anger takes over me as I rush into my room, knocking my lamp over.

I sit down on my bed, my hands running through my hair.

"I HATE HER!" I yell as tears start to form in my eyes.

but who the hell am I trying to fool we all know that, that isn't true

---

One year later

Place: The Cameron mansion

Our every moment, I start to replace

'Cause now that they're gone, all I hear are the words that I needed to say

A setup that's all it ever was. I never thought it would go this far. Still, it did, I knew when I asked Heather to be my fake girlfriend it was a bad idea but what the hell could I do Y/n was always flirting with JJ, and I wanted to see how she would react, but I knew when I canceled our trip pretending it was because I had to be with heather it was a bad idea. But what the hell could I do? I knew if I went on the trip with her, my feelings would grow even more. But what I forgot was, of course, that she would speak with Sarah.

days after and here we are me about to walk into our mansion when I hear her laugh, and at this moment I forget everything going on that is of course until it all comes flooding back

'Heather emergency I'll pay you 100 just be quick,' and she indeed is cause ten minutes after she's here.

"What!" she asks as she puts a hand on her hip

"Y/n's in there."

"ugh fine, OMG Rafe your so funny" she yells

"shh, put this on" I give her my green sweater that I fully well know Y/n loves a dick move I know, but maybe that is what needs to get her to remember all our memories. After all, how can I forget that third of December?

'Cause now that they're gone, all I hear are the words that I needed to say

We start walking down the hall as Heather starts laughing loudly.

at the end of the hall, I see her and my sister pocking their heads out from Sarah's room

"Uh hi," I say

"Hi," Y/n says as she quickly looks at the ground

"Hi," Heather says.

We all look at Sarah

"I'm not saying hi," she says.

now I know I shouldn't do this, but I can't stop myself as I see the hurt in Y/n's eyes

"Could we maybe talk Y/n?"

"Sure yeah, let's," she says as we quietly walk into another room.

"What's up?" she asks as she looks at the ground

"Just wanted to hear how you are."

"uhh, not good, it kinda sucks being blown off by your best friend." shit

"I haven't blown you off." I have

"You have. I see Heather is wearing your sweater." shit, okay, Rafe; this is your moment tell her everything.

"Yeah, I gave it to her, she looks better than me in it anyways." FUCK ME! how fucking stupid can I be precisely what I said to Y/n that third of December

"I feel like I've heard that before," she says, and she's right, okay now you can fix this Rafe!

but jealousy from JJ comes rushing over me as I say, "Calm down, its just polyester."

"It doesn't matter what it is. You like her better anyway" she walks out of the room. "Sarah, I'm going home," she yells

"y/n wait" I try to stop her

"what the hell did you do" I hear the voice of my sister say behind me.

"I fucked up."

---

When you hurt under the surface Like troubled water running cold Well, time can heal, but this won't

Place: The Dock

"no please Y/n don't close your eyes," I say as her beautiful eyes close the tears streaming down my face hits the ground as I try to stop the bleeding

"hello 911 what's your emergency."

---

Place: The Outer Banks Hospital

Time it's a thing that you sometimes can't have too much of in this case, that was just the thing, cause as the smell of hospital fills my nostrils, and the blood on my hands starts to dry, time stands still.

Cause I lost her and it's all my fault, if I hadn't hired Heather, we woudn't be here right now.

"Rafe" I hear a voice calling from beside me, I look over as I am met with my sister

"Sarah"

"What happened," she asks as tears stream down her face.

"Barry" I sob

"Barry, your fucking drug dealer, this is all your fault," she screams as she starts hitting my chest with her fists.

"Please don't."

"it is, you have always been the worst brother, but you got my friend shot."

"I didn't know it was gonna happen" I grab her wrist as I look her in the eyes

"Is she gonna be okay."

"they don't know that yet."

"no," she falls to her knees as she puts her face in hands.

Now Sarah and I have never been like normal siblings we hate each other, but at this moment we need each other, I fall to her level as I hug her. The tears start again as my body starts to shake.

"Sarah, I can't lose her. I love her."

"I know."

"no Sarah I'm in love with her" she freezes as she looks at me

"you," a male voice calls from behind us, but before either of us can react, a fist comes in contact with my face.

JJ

"you prick you got her killed," he says as we start to fight

"No, I didn't, you fucking Pouge."

"Guys stop," Kie's voice interrupts as she breaks us apart, "we need to be here for y/n."

"but he killed her, kie."

"no he didn't JJ Barry shot her, we don't know if she's dead, stop saying that"

"but what if she is Kie I can't lose her."

"I can't either you dickhead" I try to punch him again, but Sarah stops me

And with that said, a nurse walks out, making us all go dead silent.

"Miss Y/l/n is out of surgery, but she is currently in a deep coma we don't know how long it will take for her to wake up, or if she will, but we got the bullet removed, and we are pleased to say that the shooter has been caught"

"thank you, " John b says

"So, who's going to go see her first?" Pope asks

"Honestly I think it should be Rafe," John B says to my surprise

"What why he's the one that got her here in the first place," JJ says

"JJ it's barry's fault, Rafe, you should go in," Kie says

So, before you go, Was there something I could've said to make your heartbeat better?

"hi baby, it's Rafe. I'm so sorry that I put you in this situation, y/n I want you to be strong please, I can't lose you, not you. Anyone but you. I don't know if you can hear me, but the doctors said that there was a chance that you could, so I'm just trying okay. Y/n we have been best friends since forever and ever since I started realizing what feelings were I knew I felt that towards you, I remember when we were small we would always hold hands, and I would give you fake lollipop rings asking you to marry me, and you would always say in some years. Y/n I need those years. I need those years with you. You are what makes me wake up in the morning and what makes me fall asleep at night. And when I saw you getting close with JJ, I got jealous, and I hired Heather, and I know it's wrong, but y/n, please forgive me. Y/n, I love you, so please don't go okay. was there something I could have done anything to prevent this, y/n I want to feel your hand squeezing mine again or your lips on my cheek whenever you leave, I need you y/n please."

Why isn't she waking up she should be waking up why isn't it working why am I not waking up from a horrible nightmare by now why don't she squeeze my hand back

"y/n, please wake up... why aren't you waking up, y/n please" the tears fall freely from my eyes hitting her blanket while softly shaking her.

"Rafe stop, don't do that," Sarah says as she storms through the door "come here," and for the first time I think ever Sarah cares and hugs me like a little sister

"it's my fault" I sob

"no Rafe stop it, I didn't mean that."

"But you were right, what if there was something I could have done, to at least just make her stay awake for a little longer."

"Rafe, there wasn't this isn't your fault. let's go home okay you need to wash the blood off you."

"no, I can't leave her."

"Rafe, you need to go home and take a shower, and then you can return again, okay?" I nod softly as we start walking out the door

---

As the water drops runs down my body while the towel is hanging loosely around my waist all I can think about is that they are right this is my fault, what if I had never even started on doing drugs then she would be okay this is all my fault.

The drawer in the nightstand where my gun is at that's my only solution, right? If I don't have y/n, then I don't want to live, and the doctors said there was a minimal chance of her surviving, so who the hell am I kidding, after all, I did this.

As my hand comes in contact with the cold metal, all the memories come rushing back, right from the start to the end. As I lift my arm pushing the gun against the side of my head, the tears start falling again, but it's only when I hear the click signally the weapon was now loaded. I fall out of my trance, dropping the gun to the floor.

I can't just leave when things get rough. She needs me. and I need her

---

Time: a year before the accident.  

If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather. So, before you go, Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting? It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless So before you go

your pov

A day at the pool sounded like a great idea when Topper laid out the idea, but now when I'm in my bikini looking at myself, it sounds like less of a good idea. My tights look bigger, and my stretch marks are more noticeable, not to mention my ass is not the best today.

Tears start to fill up my eyes as I sit down on my bed.

But before I can even wipe the tears from my face, Rafe comes through my door, smiling, but his smile falls as he sees the tears falling from my eyes.

"love what's going on," he asks with concern in his voice as he wraps his arms around me.

"it's nothing."

"it clearly is, y/n please what is it?."

"I'm just so ugly and fat a-"

"y/n y/l/n you are none of that you are the most beautiful girl on this planet, there is no one more beautiful than you. And I want you to realize that. when you smile, I smile, and you are not fat. You are perfect and beautiful, and you make me a better person, y/n I love you. You are the person I love most in this world, and you are perfect" he interrupts me, I start to sob at his words as I throw my arms around his neck holding him tighter than ever. all I want is to kiss him, but I know I can't, cause, after all, we are just best friends

---

Time: two weeks before the accident

Rafe's pov

Was never the right time, whenever you called Went little by little by little until there was nothing at all

I know what I'm doing is wrong. I should just tell her but, I need the right time and moment, and I need to think things through.

Cause I love her

"RAFE YOU PIECE OF SHIT, DID YOU TAKE SOME OF MY MONEY" here we go again with my father, but another day another fight right

"When will you understand dad, I didn-" before I can finish my sentence, my phone rings, I quickly see who's calling.

Y/n

"Dad, I have do take this," I say about to take it, but before I can press the button, he takes the phone out of my hand.

"the hell you aren't."

---

place: midsummers

Our every moment I start to replay

You know midsummers used to be a decent event, but without y/n by my side, I have realized how fucked it actually is.

cause with Heather now by my side, which cost me money, not a single smile has fallen from my lips, with y/n that was never a problem

---

"y/n please, I hate dancing," I said as y/n dragged me across the dance floor.

"yeah, but I love to so you have to" she smiled a smile that makes the whole room light up, a smile that makes everyone else around smile too. a smile that belongs to my favorite person

---

But all I can think about is seeing that look on your face

"Rafe it's Y/n" Heather pulls me out of my thoughts

"shit do something," and she indeed does cause as her lips capture mine by surprise all I can wish is for those lips to be y/n's, I open my eyes and catch hers. behind the scoff she pulls, there is pain cause I know her better than I know myself and I know that I cause the pain

---

When you hurt under the surface Like troubled water running cold Well, some can heal, but this won't So before you go Was there something I could've said to make your heartbeat better? If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather. So, before you go, Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting? It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless So before you go

Time: a month after the accident

Place: Outer banks hospital

A month a month has gone, and nothing new. I think people are starting to worry about me after I almost haven't talked to anyone, and I don't think I have left the hospital for two weeks.

Yesterday she stopped breathing for some seconds, and I swear at that moment my world crumbled into pieces, the doctors said it was normal. But holding her pale hand is hard, and not knowing if she's going to wake up is even more challenging.

"y/n, I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can, I need to tell you something. If you're in pain, I want you to know that it's okay. You can let go if the pain is too much, cause you deserve peace, and if that is letting go, then it's okay, but y/n before you go, I need to say something else. I talked with Heather and, I found out that she is actually into girls, and she did it so she could impress the girl she is in love with. they're together now, so that's good, but y/n I never loved Heather."

Would we be better off by now If I'd have let my walls come down? Maybe, I guess we'll never know You know, you know

"But I can't help but wonder if I had just told you how I felt, if everything would be better now, or if you would have been holding me too right now, I guess we'll never know. But before you go know that I love you. I'm sorry."

---

One week later and I'm still here, I heard the doctors talking today about her maybe not making it, but they can't just give up right.

Right?

Every night for the week, I have been having the same dream y/n wakes up, and then I wake up, and she is still not awake.

It's a pattern that doesn't seem to stop.

"Rafe?"

I can't take it anymore I can't go through it again.

"stop this isn't real, you aren't real please" my eyes stay shut as my hands pull my hair

"Rafe what happened, please open your eyes."

"no, it isn't real."

"what? I'm confused."

"you aren't awake; it's just another dream," a pain in my hand makes my eyes open quickly as I see y/n pinching my hand while looking at me.

"I don't think you can feel pain in dreams" she laughs a little, but before I can even think I swing my arms around her afraid if I let go she will be gone again

"your real" I sob as the tears fall down on her shoulder

"yeah," her hands find my hair as she hugs me back "I'm sorry it took so long, but I couldn't wake up. I tried to believe me, but I couldn't."

"it's okay at least your awake now. I didn't think I would ever hear you talk again."

"I heard everything, you know. I'm sorry if you felt like I was in love with JJ I never was"

"you heard everything?" I ask as we make eye contact

"yeah, and you wanna hear a secret" she moves up to my ear as she whispers "I love you too Rafe Cameron" I smile as the tears start to fall again, I hold her face as tears begin to fall from her eyes too, I move closer to her, and our foreheads meet.

"can I?"

"I would want nothing more, Rafe."

And even though it took years and a gun, our lips finally meet, as a new chapter of our lives starts but this time with each other hand in hand

"why did you hire heather? Why didn't you just talk to me," she asks as she breaks the kiss, but I quickly close the gap again, but of course not before I reply.

"Enough About Heather."

taglist/people taht commented last time: @queenieloveswriting​ @drewstarkeyobx​ @butgilinsky​ @obx-direction-sos​ @lotsoflovefromlea​ @prejudic3​ @wannabeactress​ 

[qlala]

I’ve had a couple requests to see the unfinished Leonard and Lisa fic I mentioned yesterday, so I’m going to try posting it here! It’s the first ~2k words, so please let me know if the “read more” doesn’t work.

The basic idea involves a meta who can link up two people’s memories, similar to the concept of “the drift” in Pacific Rim. Barry and Leonard get whammied by her during a fight, and they’re both pretty much incapacitated by it, because there’s a lot to deal with there on both sides. There’d be a coldflash endgame if I ever finish it, but that’s not overt in this section. If it’s not clear, italics indicate a memory not Barry’s own. 

Trigger warnings: Please be aware that for obvious reasons, this deals a lot with Leonard and Lisa’s abusive childhood. The abuse doesn’t appear “on screen,” so to speak, but the fallout from it and the strong emotions surrounding it do. There’s also a brief allusion to transactional sex. Please keep yourselves safe and don’t read if you’re in a headspace where those things could be harmful to you. ❤️

By the time Barry stopped screaming, Leonard had filled the team in on what had happened to them. 

Barry came back to himself with heaving, raw breaths. He tried to focus on the marble flooring beneath his cheek, and he twisted off his side to press his forehead to it, cool and grounding. 

He could hear Leonard talking—familiar voice, terse sentences, clipped like he was speaking between gritted teeth—but it took Barry a second to locate him in the room. He was pressed back into the corner of the room opposite from him, kneeling, his arms wrapped tight around his middle. His hands were knotted white-knuckled in the material of the parka, an apparent attempt to stop the shaking that was visible even from twenty feet away. 

He wondered when Leonard had moved, then wondered how much time had passed. The last thing he remembered was trying to push Leonard out of the way as the meta lashed out at them with… whatever it had been, a streak of white light, fragmented like a chain, a leash.

The memory was hard to pin down. It kept appearing to him from two different angles, and there was a headache pressing behind his eyes that grew sharper every time he tried to focus on one or the other. 

“Barry? Barry, can you—?” 

Barry didn’t even think when the hand reached for him and a barrage of memories hit him broadside: other hands, one other hand. He jerked backwards, his powers the last thing from his mind, and whoever it was yanked their hand away as if he’d just bitten them. 

“Stop.” It was odd to hear Leonard’s voice without the drawl, sharp with anger, clear and ringing. 

“He can’t help it.” 

Cisco’s voice—that was even better than the floor. The memories that floated up were Barry’s own: movie nights, STAR Labs, a Lady Gaga song playing on repeat.

“Not him,” Leonard said. When he looked up, his eyes were so blood-stained that it was hard to see the blue of his irises. That explained Barry’s headache, at least. “You. All of you. Stop touching him.”

“He needs help.” 

Iris’s tone was steady, careful; it was the voice she used on stray cats and nervous sources. Barry was glad to find her just off to his right, but he still flinched as soon as she lifted her hand.

In the corner, Leonard made an aborted movement as if to stop her. “Last thing I’d want right now is someone grabbing me.” It was taking him obvious effort to speak; he shut his eyes, and his brow was furrowed in what could’ve been pain, and could’ve been concentration. “Given the circumstances, I suspect that’s… operative. At the moment.” 

There was a silence in which all Barry could hear was the sound of his own breathing. Then Iris knelt a careful foot away and placed her hand on the ground, palm up. 

Barry nodded once—it was all he could manage—and reached out to clasp her wrist.  

“Barry?” 

He nodded again, and her shoulders dropped in relief. 

“Okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. Do you know where you are?”

He risked a glance around, only to wince at the double memories: sitting on his dad’s shoulders as he explained how he’d consulted on the new exhibit about the human body, showed him his name on a sign by the door; Lisa dragging him through the Jewels of the World exhibit, her hand impossibly small in his own, declaring the Hope Diamond hideous with the flippant confidence only a child could have.

Barry’s head throbbed, and when he rubbed his free hand under his nose, it came away streaked with blood. 

In his peripherals, Leonard mirrored the gesture, then wiped his wrist on his coat. 

“The natural history museum,” Barry rasped. “Central.” 

“Why is it affecting him more than you?” Caitlin’s voice, unexpected, behind him. “You’re getting his memories, too, aren’t you?”

Barry groaned as guilt panged in his chest; his whole team had been dragged out because he couldn’t take down one meta. 

Leonard finally looked at him again, then met Caitlin’s gaze with a hard glare. “Karaoke,” he said, surprising her into a blink. “Grease. You’re a terrible singer.” 

She looked offended, but when Leonard pushed himself to his feet, her doctor’s instincts seemed to take over, and she took a step toward him.

He held out a hand to stop her. “Your voice is the third-worst thing Barry’s past has to throw at me. Not all of us have lived such charmed lives.” 

Barry’s lip curled even as his mind latched onto Leonard’s taunt, grateful for the distraction. “My parents were killed in front of me,” he said. “And my father’s doppelganger broke my back on national television.”

Leonard glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “I ranked that last one lower than Snow’s Olivia Newton-John.”

Iris tensed beside him, but it shocked a snort of laughter out of Barry. “I’m—” He let go of Iris’s wrist, used the hand to push himself up to sitting. “I’m fine. Can we go back to the lab?”

He was about to offer to run them there, but a glance toward the glass doors brought a fresh wave of memories, decades of them tied to the museum steps, the restaurant across the street, a stop sign stolen from the intersection before he’d even been born. 

“Best to keep your eyes closed,” Leonard said. 

“Yeah,” Barry agreed. He wouldn’t have gotten down the block. “Cisco, can you—?”

Cisco powered up his Vibe gloves, a ripple already opening up in the space in front of them. “Yeah, man. Come on. Let’s get you home.” 

* * * * * * 

“I said not to call her.”

Leonard sounded on the edge of homicide, and Barry risked opening his eyes to glance over at him. He didn’t need the sensors taped to Leonard’s wrists and temple (he’d steadfastly refused to take off his shirt, had pulled a knife when Caitlin had tried to insist) to guess at his spiked blood pressure, though the monitor next to him confirmed it with a beep of alarm. 

They were in the medical bay at STAR Labs, had been for over six hours. Leonard was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, apparently above anything as vulnerable as lying down (or, apparently, painkillers, which Barry hadn’t even had the option of taking) and Cisco was doing an impressive job of standing his ground in the doorway. 

“She called me, alright, Cold? I couldn’t lie to her, not when she’s got a tracker showing her you’re sitting in my lab—” 

“She lied to you.” 

“It’s in the tip of one of your shoelaces, if it’s in the same place as mine,” Cisco offered, not unkindly.

They were interrupted by the sharp, carrying click of high heels coming down the hallway. 

The monitor next to Leonard’s bed beeped again, and Barry glanced at it. His blood pressure wasn’t the only thing elevated now; his heart rate was spiking, more than anything that could be blamed on anger. He was afraid. Barry had half a second to wonder why, then Leonard bit out, “Close your eyes,” and Lisa shoved past Cisco into the room in a whirlwind of righteous fury. 

Barry’s own memories almost didn’t recognize her. He hadn’t seen her in over a year, and her hair was dramatically shorter than when they’d last met. It was short, boyishly so, and a dark brown he suspected was her natural color. 

But his memories weren’t the only ones living in his head anymore, and his mouth opened without his permission. “Lis,” he said. “I haven’t seen your hair like that since—” 

Nothing, not even that first blast of memories at the museum, could’ve prepared for the strength of the fear that slammed into him.

Lisa, barely ten, eating mac and cheese in front of the television. Lewis stumbling in the front door, reeking of beer. Every muscle tensing. A slurred name from Lewis when he saw Lisa, a name that made Len’s blood turn to ice, that made Lisa smile hopefully and ask, “Mom?” Lewis’s squint, his quiet, “Huh.” And then Lewis dropping on the couch, already halfway to passing out, and saying, “Gonna be a looker just like her.”

Len had pleaded with Lisa for hours that night, one hand on the kitchen scissors, one eye on the living room. The toy store, the candy store, fuck it, the pet store, anything she wanted, he’d buy it, just let him cut her hair, just this once, just til Dad went away again—

Barry remembered his powers just in time. He barely made it to the bathroom before his stomach heaved, and his hands were still shaking by the time he was able to take a full breath without retching again. He pushed up from the cracked floor—his knees had hit the ground hard enough to shatter the tile—and flushed the toilet, then limped out to the sink.

His reflection in the mirror was a mess; on top of everything else, his nose was bleeding again, too. He splashed cold water on his face, then changed his mind and stuck his whole head under the tap. He tried to focus on the sound of the water rushing over his ears; he needed a distraction, any distraction, to keep his mind from getting dragged back into the memory. The terror, the rage, the thousand better ways he could use those kitchen scissors to solve their problem instead of cutting off Lisa’s fucking baby curls— 

Someone shut off the water, and Barry pulled back from the sink with a wet gasp. He pushed the soaking hair out of his eyes, flinched when it dripped onto his shoulders. 

Getting too long, he thought, with a morbid hiccup of laughter. Then he threw up again. 

When he recovered, Leonard was leaning against the sink next to him, holding out a paper towel.

“She doesn’t remember that,” he said, not looking at him. It was a warning, not a statement, and Barry nodded weakly. 

“Our dad was back in prison by the end of the week.”

Because you planted a gun on him, Barry didn’t say. He remembered the weight of it in his hand, two rounds in the wall next to the gas station attendant’s head; had to leave something for ballistics. Wiping his prints off on his t-shirt, curling Lewis’s hand around the grip, the trigger, dead to the world; another shot into their floor to get the gunpowder on his hand and the neighbors on the phone with the cops. 

Grabbing Lisa out of her bed, Winnie the Pooh blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders, thirty degrees outside. She was asleep on his chest by the time he got her to Mick’s. He dropped her off and went back to join the onlookers to make sure his dad got arrested, felt a vicious, bone-deep pleasure at seeing him dragged out of the hands in cuffs. He mentally added an extra year to their fortunes when the drunk old man elbowed a cop in the face, and black blood joined the blue and red lights in staining the front lawn. 

Whatever else Leonard had been saying, Barry had missed it. The few fragments he heard—six to eight year sentence, legal guardianship—jarred another memory loose: a pro bono attorney who let his hand rest a little too long on Len’s arm; Len, broke, desperate, not shaking it off. 

The feeling the memories carried was overwhelming, threatened to bring Barry to his knees. He was too frazzled to do the math, but Leonard couldn’t have been much older than he was now. Barry had no idea how he could’ve managed it, the absolute certainty that he would’ve killed for the child in his arms, the knowledge that one day, he probably would. 

When Barry looked at Leonard, he found him gazing steadily back at him, and the full weight of his focus was so unexpected that Barry almost flinched again. He took the paper towel instead.

“When Lisa said you raised her. I didn’t realize…” He had no idea how to put it into words; maybe it was something that only someone who’d been a parent could really understand. 

“My sister’s prone to exaggeration.”

His tone was flat, clipped, and Barry let the conversation lapse. He ran the sink again, then risked another glance in Leonard’s direction. He was still watching him. 

“What did you give her?” he asked. “For her to let you cut her hair.”

Leonard was quiet for so long that Barry thought he wasn’t going to answer him. Then, finally, he lifted one shoulder in an unconvincing shrug. “Took her out of school for a week.” He crossed his arms and looked away again. “Told ‘em she had chicken pox. Brought her to work with me. Boss let her sit in the corner booth and color.”

It was enough; Barry remembered it. The bar—closed now—with its sticky floor, the regulars still passed out on the bar from the night before; he’d serve them coffee and peanuts and get to work cleaning, have the bar restocked with sliced lemons before the bartenders arrived and call the repair guy if the ice machine was broken again. The regulars put endless Shirley temples on their tabs for Lisa, syrupy sweet sodas for a buck apiece that stained her teeth red, until Len cut her off and they ordered nachos for her instead, pretzels with beer cheese, doing a better job of feeding her than Len did most nights. 

There were tears stinging Barry’s eyes; Leonard ignored them other than handing him another paper towel, this one accompanied by an eye roll.  

[angelsandacceptance]

After School Special

“So?” Dean asks. 

Sam shrugs. “I think she's telling the truth. I mean, the way she talked about being there mentally but not physically -- kind of sounds like demonic possession to me.”

“Kind of?” Chase asks. “How is it kind of a demon possession?”

“She didn't see any black smoke or smell sulfur,” Sam explains. 

“Maybe it's not a demon. I mean, kids can be vicious,” Dean says. 

“Yeah, they’re terrifying,” Harley says. 

“You were one of those terrifying ones, Harley,” Chase laughs. “I’ve heard the stories.”

“Well, I mean, we're already here. Might as well check out the school,” Sam suggests. 

“Right, the school,” Dean says shortly. 

“What?” Sam asks.

“Truman High, home of the Bombers,” Dean says with distaste. 

“What’s your point?” Chase asks. 

“I mean, we went there, like... for a month a million years ago. Why are you so jazzed to go back?” Dean asks.

“We were only there for a month, so why are you so opposed?” Chase asks. 

“Because it’s school and we have a connection to it. Why should I want to go back?”

“It’s worth looking into,” Sam points out. 

“All right, well, what's our cover? FBI? Homeland Security? Swedish exchange students?” Dean asks. 

“Yes, Dean, because you, a thirty year old grown ass man, can pass as a high school student. From Sweden.”

“Do you even know Swedish?” Harley asks.

“Don’t worry,” Sam says. “I have an idea.”

“That’s worrisome,” Chase says. 

“How?” Sam asks defensively. 

“Because it’s you. And I don’t trust either of you,” Chase says, pointing at the boys. 

“Do you trust me?” Harley asks.

Chase regards her with a cautious look. “Only on Tuesdays.”

“So, Sammy, what’s this idea of yours?” Harley asks.

Sam shoots Harley an annoyed look. “It’s Sam. You know it’s Sam.” He shakes his head. “Whatever. So, get this.”

***

The Impala drives up in front of a large school, Truman High School boldly proclaimed on the building’s entrance. Dean, Chase, and Sam climb out of the back, backpacks tugged around shoulders, wary looks on their faces. 

“Thanks, Dad,” Dean says, taking lead and walking in front of the younger Winchesters. “You two got your books?” Dean asks them. “Lunch? Butterfly knife?”

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. 

“You two are being quiet. You okay?”

“Sure,” Sam says at the same time Chase answers, “Better than your face.”

“My face is beautiful, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Seriously, you okay?”

“Sure,” Sam repeats with emphasis. 

“Sammy…” Dean starts. 

“I mean, look, this is the third school we've been to this year, and it's only November. I'm just sick of always being the new kid.”

“It does kind of suck,” Chase agrees. “I’m never able to make friends. No one wants to be friends with the freak who doesn’t know how to keep quiet, and if they do, I can’t keep contact with them longer than a couple weeks.”

“Who needs friends when you have us?” Dean smirks.

“You’re boys. I can’t exactly talk to you about all my problems, Dean.”

“And people pick on me!” Sam exclaims. 

“You'll be fine. If anyone gives you any trouble, you let me know. Relax. Dad said this hunt will take him two weeks, tops. As soon as he gets back, we're out of here.”

“To another school. Awesome,” Sam says, tugging his backpack tighter to his body. 

Once separating from her brothers as they each go to their individual classes, Chase finds herself alone in front of the classroom, twenty pairs of eyes staring her down. Judging her. Inspecting her.

God, she hates teenagers. 

“Is there anything you want to tell us about yourself, Char-”

“Chase. My name is Chase Winchester. Please address me as such.”

“Of course,” the teacher hesitates, unused to being talked to by students like that, but she continues quickly. “Well, go on and tell us three facts about yourself.”

Chase turns to the class, a half smile on her face. “Hi! I’m Chase. I like learning but hate school, love cats, and fighting.”

“What kind of fighting?” A boy in the back of the class asks. 

Chase looks to the teacher out of the corner of her eye, only to be encouraged by a wide smile. 

“Y’know,” Chase mumbles, suddenly shy. “Like fist fighting and shooting and stuff.”

“Shooting? Like guns?”

‘Great, Chase, go ahead and label yourself the freak. Why didn’t you say something normal?’

“Uh,” Chase stalls for time. “Yeah? My dad takes me and my brothers to the shooting range.”

“That’s great, Chase! Go ahead and take your seat.”

Chase does so quickly, face slightly red from embarrassment, and pulls out a notebook, hastily busying herself so she can avoid questions and eye contact. 

***

Harley’s students enter the class room. “Hello everyone, I’m Ms. Wyllt. Today we will be joined by Ms. Scourie and her 3rd period Creative Writing class. You’ll be grouped together in fours, and yes, you can choose your partners.”

A wave of excitement rushed through the class. “You’ll be writing your own unique scenes and acting them out! This project will be due two weeks from now.”

A knock comes from the classroom door, and Harley goes to open it revealing Chase and her class. Everyone enters the theatre room and Chase and Harley go off on their own.

“We’re like the best teachers ever,” Harley says, seeing best friends pair up immediately.

“We are,” Chase agrees.

***

High school was an interesting place for Harley. It was simultaneously the worst and best years of her life. She was depressed and suspended from school, but she found someone who she would give anything, just for her to be happy. She found a daughter. The light of her life and her best friend in the universe.

She found a wonderful friend group who she would die for. Discovered music and made many a memory. At this specific moment she was remembering staying the night at Adina’s.

They were in her basement, Adina was giving Harley a stick and poke of a treble clef.

“Does that hurt?” Adina asks.

“Honestly, this is the most relaxed I’ve ever been. Maybe it’s the sauna, maybe it’s being out of the house, or maybe it’s you. I don’t really care, I might fall asleep before you finish,” Harley responds.

Adina laughs.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I’m adopting you. You are now my child,” Harley says mostly serious with a hint of joking.

“Okay?”

“I’m serious, you are the light of my life and you make being alive worth it.”

“Aww, thanks!”

“Any time.”

***

Winchesters and Co. sat in the teacher’s lounge eating sloppy joes.

“So, Harley and I are the best teachers.”

“Why, what’d you do?” Dean asks, mouth full.

“Dean, really?” Chase asks. “You’re a pig.”

“Sounds like one at night too,” Sam laughs. 

“I mean not really,” Harley defends.

“Yeah!” Dean exclaims. “It’s Chase that’s bad!”

“I’m not that bad!”

“None of you are bad or I’ve just gone deaf?” Harley says unsure.

“Deaf. Definitely deaf,” Sam says. “These two are both awful.”

Chase sticks her tongue out at her younger brother. 

“So, Sam, did you find any sulfur?” Harley asks.

“I've been over the entire school twice. No sulfur,” Sam answers.

“No sulfur, no demon. No demon, no case,” Dean states.

“I don't know. Maybe I was wrong.”

“Well, it happens to the best of us. I say we hit the road, huh?”

“Fine by me,” Harley adds.

***

“How’s the nonviolence school assembly going?” Sam asks, as though joking.

Chase smacks his arm. 

“What?” Sam asks. “Too soon?”

“Yes, Sam. Too soon.”

“Apparently, shoving a kid's arm into a Cuisinart is not a ‘healthy display of anger.’ So, the kid had ectoplasm leaking out his ear?” Dean asks. 

“Which only comes from a really pissed off ghost,” Chase says.

“It’s got to be ghost possession,” Harley concludes. 

“Yeah, but that’s pretty rare,” Dean hesitates. 

“Yeah, but it happens. I mean, they get angry enough, they can take control of a person's body,” Sam says. 

“Alright, so what, we got a ghost in the building?” Dean asks. 

“Yeah, but where? I mean, there's no EMF. Maybe we could find out who it is, at least. You know, check and see if somebody died bloody around here or something.”

“Way ahead of you. I had to break into the principal's office to get this. Oh, and FYI, three of the cheerleaders are legal. Guess which ones,” Dean smirks, pulling a paper out of his pocket. 

“No,” Sam deadpans.

“Oh!” Chase exclaims. “Is the cute black haired one with the hazel-y green eyes?”

“Yes,” Dean smiles, giving Chase a high five. 

“Knew it.”

“I love you,” Harley laughs.

“Why thank you,” Chase and Dean chorus. They turn to each other. “She was talking to me! No, she wasn’t. Yes, she was!” They turn back to Harley. “Harley?”

“I love when y’all talk at the same time.”

“That doesn’t answer our question,” They both say. They turn to each other again, but say nothing, opting to stick their tongues out at each other instead. 

“Are you sure I’m the youngest?” Sam sighs.

“Pretty sure, Sammy,” Dean says. 

“Moving on,” Sam replies. 

“So, there was only one death on campus. It was a suicide back in '98. Some kid named Barry Cook,” Dean notices Sam’s face fall, “What?”

“I knew him. How did he die?”

“He slit his wrists in the first-floor girls' bathroom.”

Harley swats Dean on the arm, “Even I have more tact.”

“And that’s saying something,” Chase mentions. 

“Right where the chick got swirly-ed to death, exactly. So, what? This ghost is possessing nerds?”

“And using them to go after bullies,” Harley adds.

“Well, is that something Barry would do?” Chase asks. 

“Barry had a hard time,” Sam says. 

“Didn’t we all?” Chase asks.

***

Chase walks down the hallway, shooting a smile at her brother, Sam, who is walking with a boy his age. He waves back to her. ‘At least he made a friend,’ she thinks to herself.

Unlike her at that moment. Ever since her slip up in her first period, all of the girls avoided her, and the boys only talked to her if they wanted to make fun of her. Well, for the most part.

“So, are you sure you don’t want to go out sometime?” a boy in her science class, (Lucas?) asks her.

“For the last time, no. I’m not interested,” Chase says, opening her locker and putting her books away. She grabs her textbooks for the next class, pointedly ignoring Lucas (Definitely Lucas, Chase thinks). 

Lucas grabs her wrist, pulling her towards him. “C’mon, one date.”

“I said no. You have one second to let go of me.”

“Not until you say yes.”

“One,” Chase says. Lucas has enough time to narrow his eyes in confusion before Chase’s fist meets his face.

***

“You punched him?” The vice principal asks.

“Yes,” Chase responds, not missing a single beat. 

“And you say the only thing he had been doing was holding your wrist? Because he wanted to get your attention?” He looks down at the written report of the situation, which both students had to write.

“No,” Chase says, confused. “He wasn’t just holding my wrist. He was touching me without my consent. And he had my attention. He just didn’t like my answer.”

“You could have pulled away.”

“I tried to, but-”

“I’m sorry, Miss Winchester, but violence is not the response to unwanted attention. I know you’re new here, but this is your only warning. If something like this happens again, you’ll be suspended. For right now, however, you have detention everyday for two weeks and you have to have your guardian sign this copy of the report.”

“But this report says I punched him, but doesn’t say what he did.”

“Because what he did was not enough to warrant a report. What you did was.”

“Bullshit.”

“Language. Last warning. Suspension is on the line. Now, go.”

***

“Hey,” Harley greets her mom.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“You got suspended.”

“That’s bullshit. I’m suicidal, that’s not exactly against the rules.”

“You did mention jumping down the stairwell.”

“I know, but it might not kill me. I want to know I won’t come back.”

“Claire,” Harley’s mom sighs.

“I just want to be done. I’m so tired of living.”

“I know.”

“What’s wrong with me? I have so little empathy. Or sympathy? Whichever one it is. And the voices never shut up always, always, always telling me to kill, kill, kill. And I want to. I want to hurt people. To see them scream. I want to watch the light leave their eyes and hear that final breath escape. I want to feel the warmth of their blood across my skin.”

“They’re just thoughts, Claire.”

“They’re not though. They’re voices and feelings. They’re primal urges that I have so much trouble controlling. They’re proof I’m a monster.”

“You aren’t a monster.”

“Then why do you insist on me eating raw steak instead of buying me blood?”

“Because drinking blood is evil.”

“But I need to do it to survive. So doesn’t that make me evil?”

“No.”

***

The four hunters, each pair in their own vehicle, drive to the graveyard where they know the remains of Barry Cook lie. The air is thick with tension in the Impala, while the girls don’t think much of the situation. 

“So, after this, you want to get pie?” Chase asks.

“Umm… Duh?” Harley answers.

“Do you want to invite the boys or do you want to avoid Dean still?”

“I think Dean and I are fine, I mean he hasn’t said anything since we talked it over.”

“That’s good. I was about to suggest couple’s therapy.”

“We aren’t a couple.”

“Close enough,” Chase waves her hand, shrugging. “Anyway, we’re almost there. I don’t know about you, but I don't want to dig up a grave. How do we get the boys to do it for us?”

“Rock, paper, scissors?”

“Coin toss?” Chase pauses. “No, I like rock, paper, scissors. I always know how to win against Sam. He always does rock.”

“And Dean always chooses scissors.”

***

Sam and Dean dig where the grave of Barry Cook is, while the girls watch in mild amusement.

“Why did we agree to this?” Dean asks. 

“I didn’t,” Sam says.

“Less talking, more digging, boys,” Chase calls to them. They both turn to look at her with a bitch face, before turning back to the dirt. Suddenly, two shovel-fulls of dirt fly through the air to land on Chase, most of it getting in her hair. “You bastards!” she swears, spitting dirt out of her mouth. 

“Less talking, more digging,” Dean says.

“And we’re digging,” Sam finishes. 

Eventually, after about an hour, there’s a loud clunk as a shovel hits the hard wood of a coffin.

“Okay, our turn,” Harley says, nudging Chase forward. Chase grins and takes a matchbox out of her pocket.

“That smile means we should definitely never trust you with fire,” Dean says as the boys climb out of the hole. 

“Oh well,” Chase shrugs. 

Harley pours salt and gasoline on the remains, while Chase  lights a match, her grin growing in width. 

Dropping the match, Chase and Harley step back as flames leap into the air. The smell of charred bones and flesh and gasoline looms over them as the four hunters walk away from the scene. Going back into their individual cars, the group is quiet. 

***

Jack and Baby were parked on a hill a little ways away from a bridge. Sam is shirtless because Harley is sewing up the stab wound he sustained from a girl possessed by the ghost.

“Only you are nerd enough to get stabbed by a compass,” Chase scoffs.

“Compass? Compasses can’t do that,” Dean says.

“A math compass, Dean. As in, an instrument to draw circles.”

Dean pointedly ignores Chase. “Here, this will make you feel better,” he says. Sam nods, taking the beer. “That ghost is dead!” Dean practically growls. “I’m gonna rip it’s lungs out. Well,” he pauses. “You know what I mean.”

“You do realize the most we can do is put it to rest,” Harley points out continuing her work.

“It knew my name, guys. My real name. We burned Barry’s bones. What the hell?” Sam says.

“Maybe we missed something. We could have been wrong about Barry,” Chase says. “We just got to go back.”

Dean, looking through paperwork, suddenly gasps. “No way, how did we not see this before?”

“See what?” Harley asks.

“Check it out -- Look, Martha Dumptruck, Revenge of the Nerds, and Hello Kitty -- they rode the same bus.”

“Okay, so maybe the bus is haunted,” Sam suggests. 

“Well, that would explain why there's no EMF at the school, but not the attacks. I mean, ghosts are tied to the places that they haunt. They can't just bail.”

“Actually,” Chase starts.

“Actually,” Dean mimics in a high pitched voice. No one laughs. Chase gives him a look, unamused. Dean sighs, “Continue.”

“Actually,” Chase says again, emphasizing the word and shooting Dean another look, “there's lore about spirits possessing people and riding them for miles, then whenever they leave the body, they're bungeed back to their usual haunt. But until then, the ghosts can go wherever they want.”

“So a spook just grabs a kid on the bus and walks right into Truman?” Dean asks, not convinced.

“Well, yeah,” Chase says.

“Ghosts getting creative -- well, that's super,” Dean says sarcastically. 

“Sounds possible,” Harley says, agreeing with Sam and Chase. 

“You’re supposed to be on my side!” Dean pouts. 

“I’m on my side,” Harley says, sticking her tongue out at him.

***

“Do you see anything?” Chase calls to the boys, who are inside the bus. 

“It’s definitely not clean,” Sam responds. 

“Here, ghosty, ghosty, ghosty! Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Dean calls.

“Yes, Dean, because saying ‘Here, ghosty, ghosty’ is sure to make it appear. Maybe it’s Casper the friendly ghost!” Chase says in a heavily sarcastic tone.

“Or the Boo Brothers,” Harley adds.

“Got anything better?” Dean asks, before adding, “Nice one,” at the end of his statement.

“Man, I don't get it. No one ever died on this bus, and it's not like there's a body hidden in here,” Sam says.

“Or is there?” Chase asks ominously.

“Yeah, but a flap of skin, a hair, I mean, hell, a hangnail -- something's got to be tying the ghost to this place. We just got to find it.”

“I really hope it’s not a hangnail,” Harley says.

“I dunno,” Chase says. “Hangnail’s better than a ‘flap of skin’.”

“I’d rather deal with the skin, thank you very much.”

“Got a new driving permit. Issued two weeks ago,” Dean says from the front of the school bus. The girls go over and peer at the papers in Dean’s hand.

“Isn’t that just before the first attack?” Chase asks.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Name of the bus driver is Dirk McGregor Sr., 39 North Central Avenue.”

“McGregor?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“I knew his son.”

“Did you know everybody at this school?” Dean asks.

“How’d you remember his name?” Chase asks incredulously.

“And his last name, at that,” Harley adds.

“Just because your guys’ attention span is that of a gnat and your memory like a goldfish, doesn’t mean I can’t remember things.” He pauses. “Besides, do you not remember anyone you went to school with?”

***

Harley spent her Valentine’s Day junior year watering a bouquet of purple roses from every water fountain she could find. Everyone wanted to know where she got them and every time she had the same response, “They’re for Julia.”

She was careful and tore off every faulty petal in order to make sure the bouquet was perfect. It was at the end of the day when she finally could give Julia her gifts. One of which was a card asking her to be Harley’s girlfriend.

“Hey,” Julia says.

“Hey,” Harley responds.

“I adore the card.”

“I’m glad. So what’s your answer?”

“I really don’t want you to feel like I’m stringing you along, I’m moving in four months, back to Washington. I just don’t want to get attached and hurt you.”

“It’s fine, I might move too, but who’s to say we can’t make the most of the time we have here?”

“I just don’t want to waste time on something if I know it has a deadline. You know? I still wanna be friends.”

“Yeah, I guess, do you mind if I take a day or two though?”

“Take your time. I’m here though.”

“Thank you,” Harley says before leaving as her heart silently breaks.

***

“So that’s it then,” Chase says, disbelief written on her face.

“Well, yeah,” Nathaniel says. 

“You’re just done. With us. With everything?” Chase’s voice is drenched in desperation, as though if she argued her way through it, he’d change his mind.

“There isn’t anything there anymore.” Nathaniel’s face is like stone- like always. His blue eyes guarded, mouth in a thin line.

“Well, you could’ve fucking told me that in the beginning instead of leading me on!”

“I never led you on!” Nathaniel says, finally showing some semblance of an emotion, causing a surge of pride in Chase’s chest. Not many people were ever able to get under his skin, let alone in a way for him to care enough to defend himself.

“Then what do you call two days ago? Saying you liked me. Spouting that bull about talking to my dad and brothers!”

“I just decided that this isn’t working out.”

“Decided,” Chase repeats. “Decided? You don’t just decide these things, Nathaniel. They’re emotions! You can’t just flip off your emotions like a switch!”

“I didn’t. I’ve felt like this for a while.”

“Oh, so we’re backtracking to the leading me on part, are we?”

Nathaniel groans, running a hand through his hair. 

“No, you don’t get to be frustrated. You’re the one that promised you’d be there. You’re the one that promised you wouldn’t leave. You said nothing I said or did could make you leave, so what the hell? What do you call this?”

“I call this deciding it’s not working out!”

“Fuck you, Nathaniel. You’re a poor, pathetic, useless, spineless, son of a bitch! Everyone who ever said you weren’t worth it, were right! You weren’t! I thought you were different, but whoops. Guess the joke’s on me, huh?” Chase turns to leave.

“You don’t get to have the last word in this.”

Chase turns back to look at Nathaniel over her shoulder, tears falling down her face. “You knew full well. No, you know full well that I am in love with you. That all I wanted was for you to be happy, and for you to be in my life. I didn’t start this romance shit. You did. So, if this is the end of so much time, so much fucking time and effort, of my life I spent fighting with you, hating you, loving you, and being on and off friends with you, then know this. You’re ending this. You’re the reason this got fucked up. Not me.”

“You and I both know that this is your fault,” Nathaniel says.

Chase just ignores him and walks away, backpack slung over her shoulder, and her heart on the pavement behind her.

***

The four hunters sit on McGregor’s couch; Chase and Sam on the left side of the couch, while Dean, who has his arm around Harley as they are holding hands, takes up the right alongside Harley.

“So, you were friends with Dirk?” McGregor asks.

“Yes, sir, in high school,” Sam replies.

“I don't recall Dirk having many friends at Truman.”

“When did, uh -- when did Dirk pass?” Dean asks.

“He was eighteen.”

“What happened to him?” Chase asks.

“Well, there was, first, drinking, then drugs, and then too many drugs. And then he just slipped through my fingers. It was my fault. I should have seen it coming, you know? Dirk, he, uh -- he had his troubles.”

“Troubles?” Harley prods.

“School was never easy for Dirk. We didn't have much money, and, well, you know, kids -- they can be cruel. They picked on him.”

“They picked on him?” Sam asks, surprised.

“They called him poor and dirty and stupid. They even had a nickname for him -- Dirk the jerk. And after what happened to his mother, he…” McGregor cuts himself off.

“His mother?” Chase asks.

“Yeah, Jane, my wife. She died when Dirk was 13. Cancer. I was working three jobs, so it fell to Dirk to take care of her. And he was a great kid. He made sure Jane got her medicine. He helped her, cleaned up after her. But, you know, you -- you watch somebody die slow, waste away to nothing... it does things to a person. Horrible things.”

“I didn't know about his mother,” Sam says quietly.

“He -- he wouldn't talk about her, not even to me. Lot of anger in that boy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, we'd really like to pay our respects, Mr. McGregor. Um, you mind telling us where Dirk is buried?” Dean asks.

“Oh, he wasn't. I had him cremated,” McGregor states.

“All of him?”

“Well, I kept a lock of his hair.”

“Oh, that's -- that's nice. Where do you keep that?”

“On my bus, in my Bible.”

***

The brakes squeal loudly as Chase slams on the brakes, swearing. Moving off to the side of the road, the two girls hop out of the car, following quickly behind Sam and Dean. Sam walks up to a man getting out of the bus, while Dean sneaks around the other side of the bus, to be behind the man and anyone getting out. 

“Dirk!” Sam yells. The man who’d gotten out of the bus first turns to Sam with a cruel smile on his face. 

“Winchester, what are you gonna do? Shoot me?”

Dean sneaks up behind Dirk and wraps a rope around his body, while Harley rushes into the bus. “This rope is soaked in salt water. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Alright, everybody. Stay where you are and everything will be fine,” Harley says. 

“Aren’t you the drama teacher?”

“No, not really. More like ‘21 Jump Street’. The bus driver sells pot. Yeah, that’s it.” She starts to shuffle through the front of the bus, looking for the hair. After a moment, she looks up in exasperation. “It’s not here!”

“Where is it?” Sam demands. Dirk simply smirks. 

“Nowhere you’ll ever find it.”

Sam, obviously done with the situation, puts the gun directly against Dirk’s chest. Dirk struggles against the rope for a second. “Where is it?”

“Sam Winchester. Still a bully. You, you jocks... you popular kids... you always thought you were better than everybody else. And to you, I was just Dirk the jerk, right? Now you evil sons of bitches are gonna get what's coming to you.”

“I'm not evil, Dirk,” Sam says. “I'm not. And neither were you. Trust me. I've seen real evil. We were scared and miserable, and we took it out on each other -- us and everybody else. That's high school. But you suffer through that, and it gets better. I'm just sorry you didn't get a chance to see that... you or Barry.”

“Nothing is going to get better for me. Never.”

Dirk breaks out of the rope, knocking Dean to the ground easily. Sam shoots him with a salt round and he goes flying. A student, within moments, climbs out of the bus, obviously possessed by Dirk. 

Chase rushes over to the passed out bus driver, making sure he’s alive. 

Harley tries to shoot at the student, but misses, as the ghost beats Sam up. 

“Chase!” Sam calls. “Find the hair!”

Harley takes this moment to check on Dean, who’d been knocked out moments earlier. 

Chase pats down the man, trying to find where the hair had been hidden. Finally finding it, she reaches into his pocket and takes it out. “I swear, this isn’t what it looks like,” She mutters to herself, grabbing a lighter. She lights the hair on fire and the Dirk-possessed student screams. 

The student slumps forward onto Sam, who struggles beneath the weight of the larger student. Dean laughs from his spot on the ground, next to Harley. He winces, holding his head in pain. “He’s giving you full cowgirl,” Dean laughs.

This breaks the tension and the four hunters begin to breathe normally again, glad to be done with Dirk-the-Jerk.

[miss-choco-chips]

Put a ring on it 2

Gonna drop this here super quick and then go back to cram for my finals. Who allowed me to schedule six finals in one week? I’m gonna die. Pray for me.

Tagging @jedissica ‘cause they asked me to, and @animemangasoul who I think will like this.

---.---

-Batman, here we are. It’s been a while since you last called an emergency meeting. Is everything okay?

-Were you aware that our children eloped together?

-...what.

-As in, my third kid, your first one, Diana’s second, and Barry’s… grandchild. I’m not exactly sure about who married who, but there was more than one wedding and they have a group chat called ‘hubbies and waifu’. Whatever that means.

-...

-...

-That’s my girl. I always told her, go big or go home.

-Diana, no.

----.----

Cassie’s phone went off again with her specific Diana ringtone, and she gave up, turning it off and throwing it on the pile with Kon’s, Bart’s and Tim’s (the last one had four all by himself, so it was quite a big ‘phone tower’; Hah, pun intended).

-You’re gonna freak out so badly over this when you actually wake up -she informed Tim’s fluffy hair. 

Said vigilante only released a cute little snore, face buried on her lap, legs thrown over Kon’s, one hand that had fallen from the couch resting on Bart’s head where he sat on the floor in front of them.

-Well, they were going to find out one way or another. And this was probably among the best scenarios.

-How? I’m sure this one was top five on Tim’s ‘worst case’ nightmare list.

-I was there and saw their faces. I didn’t even know Batman could express any emotion other than ‘cold’ and ‘overflowing with rage’. That image will bring me joy in future distressing times, I’m sure. My patronus memory, if you will.

-I’m soooooooo jealous, dude.

Cassie snorted, carefully not moving an inch, fingers cradling through Tim’s hair. Over her dead body would he ever cut it, now that it was finally long enough to make itty tiny braids all over it, her favorite therapeutic iddle work.

-We’ll make Tim give us footage when he wakes up. He has to provide for us, after all.

Kon let his arm, resting on the backrest of the couch, fall over Cassie’s shoulders- Be sure to include footage from after we left, too. Nightwing’s  ‘As in more than one?!’ part was solid gold.

-No kidding, I want that as my ringtone for you and Tim -chimed in Bart, carefully moving Tim’s hand back to the couch and then running to the kitchen- Ice cream?

-Do you even need to ask?

---.----

By the time Tim woke up, the hero gossip network had done it’s thing, and almost everyone with a costume was aware of the news. Even Cissie, who was officially retired, and Zachary Zatara, away on his shows and usually out of reach, had called, the first one to offer congratulations and ask if the thing was real emotionally-wise, the second to just laugh at them for full six minutes before hanging up. 

He did text them later, asking when the celebration ceremony would be.

-It’s not a bad idea -mused Cassie, showing them her phone screen with the magician’s text- a party, I mean.

Tim, from his place working a case on the Titan’s main computer, tuted- Batman might actually kill me for that. I think we’ve survived this far only because there are no written records making this official, and a part of him must think it’s all some elaborate prank.

-It’s not -insisted Bart, head poking out of the kitchen- we are family now, officially. No take backs.

Their Robin shifted in place just enough for them to see his smile, a gift on itself- I know, guys, and the sentiment is much appreciated. But from a legal standpoint, it’s not that different from what a few kids on a playground could do while playing family. Only place this could stand against judgement would be the future, some ancient Amazonian tribe, or Krypton.

-Doesn’t matter, as long as it’s true for us. And, I mean, we didn’t want to cut your options if you ever wanted to actually get married the classic way.

This time, their bird actually turned around, a warmth on his expression that he usually reserved for his team. It made them feel special like nothing else.

-Yeah, I know. Thank you for that. It was really considerated.

As if they would drag Tim into something like legal marriage without previous consent. The fact that he even felt the need to thank them for showing him basic human decency was making their blood boil with the need to punch a bat on the face.

Kon flew over, the high chair preventing him from draping himself on his best friend’s back, but not from hugging his neck and messing his hair.

-Back at my point -cleared her throat the amazonian-, your former mentor can suck my metaphorical Freudian dick. We could throw a party, and it would only be different from a normal one because marriage celebrations include gifts, which I’m totally for. I haven’t seen Zatara, Cissie, Greta and Anita in a while, and Miguel, Raven and Gar might murder us for not telling them about our plans and not making it up to them with a party. No ‘adults’ out of the ones on team, or mentors, invited, enough alcohol to re-drown Atlantis, fancy food bought with Bat’s credit card…

-You are right, it does sound kinda nice -hummed Kon, floating just out of Tim’s range when former Wonder Boy tried to slap his hands away. Silly bat, always denying affection.

-All in favor?

-I don’t know -giving up, Tim went back to his case files- I have a lot to do this days, and there’s a lead that might take me to Asia…

-Isn’t Cass there? Ask her to take over it for you, as a marriage present or something. C’mon Tim, do it for the gifts. Imagine what Zatara might get for us. So crash.

-If  it’s a magical object, I won't want it anywhere near me. We bats don’t have the best track record with that stuff, and I swear to god if I get deaged I would use my non-prosecutable age to murder someone. Probably Zatara himself.

-Adorable as that might be, it totally won’t happen.

----.----

-....can you repeat it one more time? Slower, though. I think I’m getting hearing problems.

Raven, through the video call connecting the Cave with the Tower, didn’t seem fazed by Nightwing’s slightly threatening tone.

-I said, the team had a party, everyone got drunk, and it was fine for a while. I was watching over them, but then I needed to use the restroom. When I got back, someone had gotten ahold of Zachary’s gift for Tim, Cassie, Kon and Bart, and…

-Why for those four? -asked Hood, standing right by N’s side. He had came in during Raven’s first explanation, and felt like there was something he was missing.

-It was a marriage gift. Moving on…

-A what?! Since when is Lil Red married? The fuck happened while I was in Russia?!

-...someone had gotten ahold of the gift -Raven kept going, cool as a cucumber. On the background behind her, teen heroes were running back and forth, people were screaming and something was smoking-, which happened to be some sort of magical artifact. Zachary wasn’t really aware of what it did, he just randomly choose it from among his collection of magical tools when he remembered at the last possible time a gift was mandatory for a wedding party. I returned from the bathroom and everything was a mess, the couch was turned upside down, a pipe had burst, the tv was on fire and Tim had been de aged.

There was a battle scream, in a distinctly childish voice, somewhere on the room out of view of the camera, and Raven’s eyes left the screen for a second as if looking at it.

-Was that Red Robin? -Batman, because of course he was listening in, started typing at the console, frantically trying to get a new angle to see what was going on on the Tower.

-He’s unharmed, and everything is under control.

Another scream, this time louder.

-...that didn’t sound under control -mused Dick, apparently still processing the information. Bruce typed faster. Robin gripped his sword tighter, as if readying himself for a war.

Jason still looked utterly lost.

-Marriage? She said marriage? AND YOU ASSHOLES KNEW ‘BOUT THIS?!

-He’s… throwing a tantrum -the woman ignored him, still looking only at her former leader-. Something about using his age to kill Zatara without being convicted. I’ll need to leave now, I only called to ask you to take over Tim’s cases while we solve this issue.

-Wait! Rae, if Timmy’s a kid, he needs to be with us. We are his family, it’s our jurisdiction.

A green bird suddenly landed on her shoulder, halthing whatever response she might give. Gar pecked her on the cheek lightly before turning his beak their direction.

-Husbands and Wives get priority, N, you know that. Cassie, Kon and Bart are looking after him, and keeping him from killing Zachary, while the rest of us research how to turn him back. Zach is actually trying to contact his cousin, maybe the great Zatanna will quicken this process. So, yeah, no Bats allowed on the Tower until then!

-But/!

A loud crash, followed by a wail, made Gar wince and Raven’s head to snap to the side and growl.

-Whelp, gotta go, Tower out! -a ‘Tim!’ could be heard in the background just before the screen went dark.

-...

-...

-...

-...Anyone gonna fill me in?

-Drake eloped thrice over without informing us and has been living in sinful unworthiness with his three partners since last month or so, that we know about. Probably more.

-...Partners?

-You heard her. The speedster, clone and amazonian.

-...

-...

-Dickie, how t’fuck did ya allow’is to happen?!

-IT’S NOT LIKE I WAS ASKED FOR MY BLESSING, JASON!

-B, what the utter hell, ain’t ya supposed to keep track of this kinda shit?!?

-...

-Don’t bother, Father has been broken since learning of Drake’s mistake, and will go unresponsive at the most inconvenient times.

-...

-Fuck, I need a drink. Also, ’m going there.

-You heard Gar, Jay -pointed out Dick- we can’t just walk in there, and the Tower is legally his. We have to be smart about this, plan this through, and/

-Yeah, no, he said ‘no bats’-gesturing at his gun holsters, he started to walk to where his bike was parked-. RIP ya’ll, but I’m different. See ya.

-...

-...

-Tt. Useless. I’ll go back to training. Father, Grayson, should you two, as the plebeians say, ‘snap out of it’ and come with a good plan to get Drake back under our tutelage, I’ll be by the mats waiting.

-...

-...Don’t look at me like that. I raised him for a few months tops, but he’s your kid, not mine. Same with Tim, and Jason’s entirely your fault.

---.---

Meanwhile, back at the Tower, Kon let out a screeching ‘Tim!’ before diving out and catching the baby bird in his arms, halting his fall from the ceiling rafters where he had been climbing. Behind him, Cassie let out a relieved breath.

-God’s above, you almost gave me a heart attack. Okay, new ground rules, this two little feet stay on the ground.

Tim, as proudly as a three year old toddler could, frowned at him.

-Don’t patwonize me, Kon. And lemme go, I havta cacth Zac/ Zat/… Magic-boy.

Bart materialized by their side, arms looping below Tim’s armpints to carry him to the recently put back to its correct place couch. He dropped there, tiny bird in his lap, cooing all the while.

-Aww, you’re precious.

-I could still huwt you -pointed out the toddler, resigning himself at being manhandled.

-I know -replied Bart lovingly, softly stroking his turf of hair.

Somewhere on the side, Cissie clapped her hands, as if getting rid of the dust there.

-Okay, I putted out the fire, so now I’ll be heading home. This magical bullshit is way out of my ‘retired’ comfort zone.

Cassie landed by her side and gave her a quick hug, while Greta walked up to them- I understand, thanks for coming.

-Give us a call when this is solved, we can have a coffee while you complain about your husbands. And… child, now, I guess. God, it was already weird calling Tim your husband, but now he’s a baby and it's doubly weird. Figure this out quickly.

-Will do. See you guys later.

One by one, they all left, some offering their support (appreciated, but not needed, thank you, we’ll manage), some still laughing. In the end, only the Core Four, Gar, Raven and Miguel remained. Zachary probably was there somewhere (if he dared leave without helping them fix this, he was dead meat), but out of the enraged toddler’s sight, which. Wise.

Even if said little human being was pint sized and cow eyed, he was probably still the most dangerous person in the room, unarmed or not (you know what, scratch that; if time with Tim taught them anything, was that no bat was ever unarmed. Even bare handed, their own bodies were weapons).

-...So... What should we do while we wait for Zatara’s solution?

-I vote movie night. It’s not like we can keep on drinking, with a kid in the room/ Auch! Pointy elbows, Tim!

Kon swooped in, picking Tim from Bart’s not invulnerable lap and cuddling to him on the couch by the speedster’s side. Tim knew better than to hit the Boy of Steel without proper equipment, so he let himself fall back against the broad chest. Cassie, talking to the older members of the team on the side, smiled softly at them before returning to her conversation.

As mad as his current situation made him, Tim couldn’t bring himself to pout too much. It had been a fun night, all things considered.

-----.-----

[backtothestart02]

Fallen Star - 12/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: I’m ngl...this chap def gets your hopes up. Enjoy! lol

*for @itzvickilou

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Chapter 12 -

Iris spent nearly the rest of the night almost calling or texting Barry Allen.

Her heart ached for him hours after he’d left. Her body felt his phantom touch from when their hands had brushed. She couldn’t shake the feeling if she tried.

The worst part is she knew he wouldn’t be able to resist coming if she called for him, if she said she needed him. She could probably even seduce him if she wanted to, if she went about it the right way. It wouldn’t solve anything come morning, but at least she would remember what it felt like again to be alive.

But the ache she felt during the night wasn’t even for the lovemaking. It was just his presence. It made her feel whole and safe. They didn’t spend every night together when they were dating, but they spent enough time in general for her to never fear for her safety.

If he was just in the living room… Or hugging her, holding her until she fell asleep…

Would that be so wrong? Would it really make things that complicated?

Yes, Linda’s voice sounded in her head, and she knew her very wise best friend was right.

Letting her very recent ex-boyfriend, who she was still very much in love with, into her apartment when she was feeling vulnerable was a bad idea all around.

So, at 6am and with barely a wink to her sleep count, Iris called Linda Park instead and invited her out for coffee.

Linda yawned onto her hot coffee cup, then blinked several times in an effort to keep both eyes open.

“Tell me, West. What was so pressing that we had to go out two hours before work starts? I don’t know about you, but I need my beauty sleep.”

Iris was quiet for a while, biting down on her bottom lip while she tried to figure out what to say.

Her silence seemed to tip Linda off, because she straightened in her seat and asked with her chin atop folded hands, “Is this Barry-related?”

Iris met her eyes. She didn’t say anything or even nod, but her insides were screaming, and it clearly came through in her sad-eyed gaze.

Linda reached across the table to grip one of her friend’s hands.

“Tell me what happened.”

Iris sighed and decided to go all in.

“Well, for starters I almost got mugged last night.”

Linda’s jaw dropped. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that.”

“The Flash saved me.”

“Did he now…” Linda remarked softly, taking note of how Iris didn’t seem annoyed by that fact.

She nodded.

“Anything else?”

She didn’t even pause before blurting, “Barry came by to see me later to check on how I was doing.”

Linda’s eyes went wide. “Did he come in?”

Iris shook her head. “He just wanted to see if I was okay… It was too… I mean, who knows what would’ve happened if I’d let him come in.” She threw her hands about.

“Mmhmm.” Linda watched her closely.

“What?”

“Did you tell him to leave?”

“No. I wasn’t mad he came. It was…it was soft and tender and it… God, it hurt so much to watch him go.” She covered her eyes to hide the tears welling up there. “It made me realize…” She caught her breath.

“Realize what, honey?” Linda asked, shuffling closer and wrapping her arm around her shoulders.

“That I still love him.”

She chuckled lightly, soothingly even, as she pressed her head to her Iris’.

“I could have told you that. It’s written all over your face. His too.”

“No, I know, I’m sure it… Well, it’s just…” She huffed.

“What?” Linda asked gently.

“The first time we said I love you was on that rooftop.”

Linda’s eyes went wide again, and she pulled away slightly.

“Seven months and it took you that long to-” She was cut off by Iris’ meaningful look. “Sorry, it’s just hard to believe. I mean, you knew how he felt. He must’ve been dying, waiting for you to say it.”

Iris bit her lip again. “Yeah… I just… I hate that it took us breaking up for me to say it. Like, what good is it now? What does it matter? We’re exes. It’ll only hurt him knowing that I love him but am still choosing my work over him.”

“But…you’re not.” Her brows furrowed.

“He broke up with you because he thinks that your work will always come first.”

Iris blinked, that dawning revelation never having occurred to her. Or to Linda for that matter until right that moment.

“If you want him…prove him wrong.”

Iris licked her lips.

“You think that’s all it would take? He’d want to be with me again, and he’d drop this ridiculous ultimatum about stopping me from doing my job if the story is remotely dangerous to investigate?”

Probably not, Linda thought to herself, but Iris looked so hopeful now she couldn’t bring herself to say anything that might fill her eyes with tears again or break her heart.

“You never know until you try, right?”

Iris lit up, beaming ecstatically.

“You know what, Lin? You’re right. Barry is way more important to me than any story. If he just understood that, maybe he could appreciate what I’m trying to do, and then we could get back together!”

Linda smiled. She couldn’t help it. Iris’ giddy happiness was contagious.

“Go get him, girl.” She winked, and Iris slid off the stool, smiling brightly.

“I’ll see you later, Lin.” She smiled and twirled as she headed out the door.

Linda relaxed into her chair and took another sip of her coffee that had gone from hot to lukewarm. There was a buzz from her cell phone, indicating an email notification. She pulled the device from her pocket and hit the email app to see what was so important.

Her heart fell when she saw it, even though she knew she should be ecstatic. Not only for herself, but for Iris too.

It was a lead on the arms dealer story Iris was currently working on. Despite all the research Iris had done the day before, even staying after hours, it had appeared as though the trail had gone cold. Or the dealer was just discreet enough to keep his dealings under the radar, for the most part. But this tip would be just the ticket to get it going again. Iris would be thrilled when she saw it.

Barry, however, would not.

…

  A pounding headache and memories flooding through him just like every morning for the past few weeks, Barry very seriously considered calling in sick to work today. The Flash couldn’t take a day off, but Barry Allen, CSI extraordinaire, could. And to be fair, the CSI rarely took off, despite often being late and leaving frequently for his red-suited duties.

The fact of the matter was… seeing Iris almost get mugged and then retrieving the gun from her last night had only strengthened his conviction that they couldn’t be together. It broke his heart, but seeing her with the gun in her hand only reminded him of how reckless she was with investigative reporting, and that she hadn’t even considered the danger in her taking it, or how her fingerprints would be all over it.

Then again, what was she supposed to do with it? Just leave it in the alley? Wait for the Flash to return and take it from her? Go to the police station herself with it? Now that wouldn’t look suspicious at all, would it?

He rolled his eyes at himself.

Was he making up excuses now? Maybe.

The reason behind that possibility remained to be seen.

He couldn’t possibly be avoiding getting back together with Iris, could he?

Maybe this was for the best, and being so close to her last night had threatened to break his heart again.

He should just accept they weren’t meant to be together. He didn’t want to cut her out of his life. She was his best friend, first and foremost. And he had just told her she shouldn’t stop coming to STAR Labs on his account. She was part of the team too. It was inevitable they would see each other regularly. And it had been a few weeks, so maybe it was time for them to ease back into being friends again. They could do that. They’d been friends for years before they got together. Surely, they could be friends again.

Surely…

A knock at his apartment door rattled him more than it should’ve. He got up from the kitchen table, where his coffee had gone cold and his milk-soaked cereal had become mushy, and answered the door without looking in the peephole.

His eyes went wide.

“Iris.”

“Hey, Barry,” she said, soft but also restrained, like she was trying very hard not to show how…excited she was? “Can I come in?”

“Uh…sure.”

He moved his hand away from the doorframe just in time for her to come plowing through the entrance.

She looked around the apartment once inside, taking note to how it was just a little bit messier than when she’d frequented it nearly every day. Memories flashed before her eyes of them making out on the couch, at the kitchen table, on the counter…

“Iris?”

She cleared her throat and turned to face him. Obviously, he was talking to her.

Way to zone out, Iris.

“Yes?” she asked, grateful he couldn’t see her blush.

“Why are you here?”

She felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach, even though his tone hadn’t been cruel or cold in the slightest. It brought back the reality of the situation and how strange this must seem for her to be showing up like this. And peppy at that.

She sobered herself and remembered how she’d been feeling when she first got up that morning, and how he must be feeling pretty much the same thing.

“I wanted to check on you,” she said cautiously. “Like you checked on me?”

The tension seeped out of his shoulders, and he nodded.

“I’m okay,” he said with a shrug.

“Didn’t sleep either?” she asked knowingly.

His eyes locked on hers, taken by surprise with how right she was and how in sync they still were.

“I was thinking of calling in today,” he admitted. “I’m not…feeling myself.”

“Maybe I can help with that.”

“Iris…” he tried, as she walked towards him.

There was only one thing that could make him feel better, and it wasn’t going to happen. Not today at any rate. Maybe not ever.

She stopped when she saw him back up by the slightest part of an inch.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.” She looked genuinely hurt.

He paused a moment before asking, “What are you going to say?”

“I was hoping you could walk me to work.”

He blinked. “What?”

She came over to him and hesitated for only a moment before looping her arm through his and tugging him towards the center of the room, careful not to let the feel of him distract her senses too much.

“I want us to be friends, Barry. Maybe it’s too soon for you, but it’s not nearly soon enough for me.” She stopped and turned to look at him. “I miss you.”

He swallowed hard. “I miss you too, Iris.”

“Then…” She gulped as she let her hands trail down to his fingers and squeeze gently. “Walk me to work. And…speed me to STAR Labs afterwards. Maybe come by on my lunch break? We can eat together. Try to…start something instead of accept nothing.”

He ached to say yes. She could see it in his eyes, in the way he wasn’t pulling away.

“It’ll be a lot harder to call in if I’m out in public so much,” he hedged.

“So, don’t call in. Let seeing me be the highlight of your day instead of the one thing you’re trying to avoid.”

“I’m not trying to avoid you. I just –”

She gave him a knowing look. He sighed.

“I suppose walking you to CCPN wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

She smiled brightly, and it broke his heart. He was making her happy, but they weren’t together. He was making her happy by doing the bare minimum. Was he giving her hope where she should have none? Or was he giving it to himself? He wanted to scream, but more than that, he wanted to kiss her. And he was the only one preventing the latter. It wasn’t like before where there was someone else.

Someone else…

How in the world was he going to handle it when she started dating again?

He looked back at her and tried his hardest to suppress the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Just…let me get ready? I mean, since I’m going to go to work now, officially.”

She smiled and nodded. “Of course. I’ll just wait here.”

She plopped down on the couch, and he ran a hand through his hair and headed for his bedroom. It was no short trip from here to CCPN. It was a warm day for January, but he knew she was only walking in heels in winter temperature this far for him. Because she wanted to be with him.

He shut his bedroom door behind him as soon as he reached the inside and braced his hands on top of his dresser. He groaned.

God, he wanted to be with her too.

…

Waiting in the living room, Iris tapped her foot on the carpet and tried to calm her nerves. The last thing she expected in that moment was to get a text from Linda demanding she call her NOW.

Seeing as how it was Linda who had set this grand plan into motion, she figured it’d be better if Barry didn’t overhear anything regarding it.

She got to her feet and turned towards the direction he’d gone.

“Uh, Barry? I have to make a call. Can I meet you in the hallway?”

There were a couple seconds of silence, then, “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll be out soon.”

“Take your time.” She put a smile in her voice and then walked out of the apartment, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey, Iris,” Linda answered urgently over the phone.

A trickle of sweat dribbled down Iris’ neck. This sounded serious for Linda to be so anxious with just two words.

“What’s up? I was just about to get Barry to walk me to work. I think it’s the first step in a long-”

“Cancel it. Make an excuse. Don’t go with him.”

Iris’ shoulders slumped.

“But I got him all hopeful. I got me hopeful too. And what harm is there in him walking me to work? Especially if I’m at the very least sticking to being friends again?”

“Because, Iris Ann West, when I give you what I’m about to give you, Barry will not want to be your friend or anything else. I’ve got a lead on that dangerous story you want to investigate so badly.”

“Oh, my God, a lead? I thought it had gone cold!” She made a mental note to lower her voice so Barry wouldn’t hear, even through the solid wood door a foot away from her.

“I just had it emailed to me this morning. I put out feelers yesterday when you were having so much trouble finding anything, and I got something back.”

“What did you get?” Iris whispered excitedly.

“I’ll email it to you, and we can talk more at work. But from what I can tell by just skimming it? His underground alias and hide-out where he may possibly be keeping his weapons.”

“Oh, my God.”

“So, what’s it going to be, West? Spending your spare moments with Barry today or taking advantage of this tip while it still has validity?”

The door swung open, and a now smiling Barry Allen stood before her after quickly locking up his apartment. She forced a smile as she debated her options and knew in that instant that she was going to break his heart again.

“I have to go,” she quickly said into the phone and then hung up, slipping the device into her pocket.

Barry’s smile faltered.

“Is everything okay?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, of course, it’s just um…”

“Something come up at work?” He tensed, trying hard not to show it but failing.

“In a matter of speaking…” She licked her lips and tried to come up with a lie he’d believe. “Linda got locked out of the building. Or rather, she probably forgot her key and knows I have a spare.” She pulled the key out of her pocket smoothly, but her laughter was strained. “Raincheck?”

The thought crossed his mind that he could easily speed her there or at least wait for a cab to take her. But those possibilities must’ve occurred to her and she didn’t want either, or she probably would’ve asked.

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. I understand.”

He didn’t understand. He couldn’t possibly, and Iris knew it.

But she wasn’t going to lose another amazing story on his account. She would just have to make this up to him later.

“See you at STAR Labs?” he called out as she strutted down to the end of the hallway.

She spun around and walked backward.

“Actually, I think I’m going to be busy. Maybe tomorrow?”

The pain was written all over his face, but she couldn’t let herself focus on that right now or she wouldn’t follow through.

“Yeah, sure…I’ll see you later.”

“Bye!” She twirled back around and went down the stairs to exit the building.

Barry went back inside his apartment and called in to work.

  ...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[greekowl87]

Fic: After Shock

A/N: I feel like I haven’t had time to breathe since I started the new job and my anxiety has made it so I haven’t been sleeping a lot either. I haven’t been writing either. So decided to rewatch ‘Wetwire’ after some friends were just rewatching and tried to bust out a quick fic. It took two weeks.I don’t know where my head took me with this. Taggin @90saolchatroom because it was one of her comments that started this idea.

P.S. I also make a reference to another fic I wrote called Sure. Fine. Whatever. Also, @90saolchatroom‘s headcanon was also the source of inspiration that well. Heck, she was the inspiration for these fics period.

P.P.S. No beta so mucho apologies for the typos. Between lack of sleep and getting used to the new job, I’m sorry.

Tagging @today-in-fic @baronessblixen @improlificinsarcasm

Scully was free to leave the hospital after a few days of observation with her mother dogging her at each step. She couldn’t blame her, especially after what had happened. Fears of trust and betrayal. Rushing to the only place where she thought she had left. Pointing a gun at her partner. Breaking down in her mother’s arms still grasping her weapon, afraid to give up control. She remembered feeling Mulder’s sad gaze linger as her mother soothed Scully. 

The same moment had entirely had been mirrored months previously with Modell control Mulder and point a gun at her. The pain Mulder realized he couldn’t control his own actions. And then with her, she had shown just the opposite. Fear. True fear. What an odd twist of fate. In shared moments of desperation, both had almost shot their respective partners. Except for this time, something resonated deeply in Scully’s heart. A deep ache that hadn’t healed.

After many promises to call Maggie Scully in the morning and assurances that Scully would be fine in her Georgetown apartment, her mother left shortly before ten. The paranoia was still fresh in her mind, however, that was one side effect she hated from the entire experience. She could remember everything. Logically, she knew there was nothing to be afraid of but that would stop checking the locks on all of her windows and triple checking the lock on her front door. Satisfied that she was safe, Scully retreated to her bathroom to draw a long bath in an effort to relax.

It still bothered Scully that she could have let herself think that: Mulder had betrayed her and broken their deeply earned trust in one another. As she slid beneath the steaming water and bubbles, she flashed back over the past three years. Tooms trying to kill her in her bathroom. Duane Barry breaking through her living room windows that lead to abduction. Then to chasing Mulder down to Puerto Rico and staying with him even after news of Melissa taking the bullet meant for her. 

Scully flinched in memory, a twinge of regret. It should have been her instead of her sister. When Missy and her mother had needed her, she was with Mulder, chasing the Truth with a capital ‘t’, finding her name amongst endless files that should not exist.

But in the hospital room, when Scully arrived at a vacant bed, it was Mulder who wordlessly held her hand in that empty hospital room and then hugged her as she became adrift with grief. But during all this, during these past three years, Scully had come to trust him more than she would have thought possible. But now that regret and anxiety lingered over her current actions. Had she destroyed it? What they had? What was there left to go back to?

Unable to help herself, Scully climbed out to tub, draining the water, and reached for her cordless phone. It was near midnight but she knew Mulder to be up. The man hardly slept. After she dialed his number and reaching is answering machine, she decided to get dressed and drive to Old Town Alexandria, her conscience weighing heavier by the minute. The midnight drive took longer than she would have liked and parking being worse than she imagined. She turned up the radio in an effort to drown out her thoughts as she parked the car. Scully could go back home and pretend she was okay for the next time they saw each other at the office on Friday morning or she could do something.

**************

Scully found herself in front of apartment number 42 with her hand poised to knock but the door was quickly pulled open. “I saw you parking from the window,” Mulder greeted her softly. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

Scully tried to look beyond her tall partner and saw a reading lamp on, heard The Cranberries playing, and no blue tv light. “Um, no.” She refocused her gaze. “Um...I called and it went straight to voicemail. I was, uh…”

“Did you? I must’ve missed it. I ran out to get some food. Are you hungry?”

He stepped away from the entryway and opened the door wider so she could come in. “So no tv tonight?” 

He lowered the volume on his stereo. “I thought I would take a break from watching tv, given recent events.”

She chuckled. “Don’t stop on account of me.” Mulder disappeared into the kitchen as Scully picked the book he had been reading up off the table. “I could tell you the ending to the book your reading, Mulder.”

“I thought I would give it a go since I remind you so much of the title character. You remember our conversation when you wrecked the boat,” Mulder laughed from the kitchen. Scully looked down at the library copy of Moby Dick fondly. “And don’t ruin it.”

“Some coincidence, Mulder.”

“I guess.” He came back out with two cans of soda and one hand and two plates balanced precariously on his other arm like a waiter. “I think I remembered. Beef and broccoli with white rice instead of noodles because you want to be healthier, sweet and sour chicken for me and one single egg roll for you.”

“Mulder, that’s our normal Chinese order. I wasn’t planning on coming over tonight.”

“Call it initiation.” He paused and shrugged. “I must have done it out of habit. Now that I have, we can’t let it go to waste can we?”

“I suppose not,” Scully conceded

“So,” Mulder began, passing her the plate, “are you feeling any better? Not gonna draw your weapon at me if the rice isn’t hot enough?”

“Mulder, please don’t. I feel bad enough as it is what happens.” She sighed, looking at the food. “I still feel ashamed.”

“Scully, you can’t let it eat you like that,” he answered. “You weren’t in your right mind. Just like when Modell controlled me. We had no control over the situation.”

They sat on the leather couch so close that they were touching. Scully moved slightly in an effort to make it less awkward. She shoveled the Chinese around on the plate. “I feel like I did, in some way. Why would it make me believe that you had betrayed me?”

“It prayed on our worst fears. I guess,” he paused in thought, “I guess my betrayal is one of yours.”

“Well, it’s true. I thought you would actually betray me, kill me...I can’t believe I let myself accuse you of those things.” She shook her head in disgust. “Mulder, how can you be okay with this? Be mad. Do something. Anything!”

“Scully,” Mulder sighed, “please don’t.” She set the plate in front of her, unable to eat. He sighed and took her hand without thinking. “Please don’t let us go down that road. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“How could you be so forgiving, Mulder? I pointed a gun at you. I’ve shot you before, don’t forget!”

“Did you forget I did this same to you not a few months ago?” And he smiled sadly. “And you shot me because I was out of my mind. You saved me, remember? Who else could perform surgery both with a pistol and scalpel?” She bit her lip and tried to pull her hand away. Mulder did not let her hand go. “Neither were you. So why do you hold yourself to a set of different standards than everyone else, Scully? I’m allowed to make mistakes but you aren’t?”

“I can’t afford to be,” she answered after a few moments. She gave up fighting. “I can’t afford to be because I have to prove just as much as the next guy.”

“Not to me, remember? You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“But I accused you of…”

“You weren't in the right state of mind or have you forgotten? Let it go, Scully. Now eat something before your dinner gets cold.”

Mulder forced the plate into her hand and took a few bites of his own meal. After a moment’s hesitation, Scully followed suit. They continued to eat in silence as The Cranberries played. How could he be so forgiving of her?

 “So what’s next?” She asked as she finished her Chinese. “For us?”

Mulder shrugged and picked up the plates. “I’m not letting you travel again tonight, that’s for sure. I know you just got out of the hospital, but it would give me peace of mind. And I don’t fancy your mother’s wrath when she learns you are out and about.”

“You’re no better than my mother. I’m fine, Mulder.”

He knew a losing battle when he saw it when it came to his partner. Her independence and stubbornness matched his own. “Well, at least let me drive you home, using your car and I will catch a cab back here.”

“Mulder, you don’t have to baby me,” she said.

“I’m not babying you. I…” Mulder sighed. “I just worry about you, Scully. And care. That’s all. I’d prefer you stay here honestly. I just want to make sure you are okay.”

For a moment, Scully let her guard down. Maybe she was still tired of everything from the previous ordeal or maybe it was more. Maybe she was just tired of more than the most recent life or death situation. “And what sleep on your couch? It isn’t necessarily that big.”

“I have a seldom-used bedroom, aka the guest room as I call it. You can stay there.”

“Mulder, I’m fine.” She stifled a yawn and wiped the sleep from her eyes. “If you want to mother hen me then come back with me to Georgetown and I will call you a cab. I just want to be in my own bed.”

“Fair enough. I think you may have wasted your gas coming out here.”

“I got a free meal out of it.” 

Scully was mentally panicking. This was not going anyway she had planned. She did not feel any better about the situation. More than anything, she needed to run. Mulder reached for her hand again, and for the second time that night, he grounded her and brought her racing thoughts back to a standstill. “Scully, just stay the night. I won’t bite and you would ease my fears.”

“Mulder, I'm fine.”

“I know you are but I’m not. I worry about you, Scully.”

After a moment’s consideration, she gave into Mulder’s request. Not for her sake of course, but for him. She did remember Missy confiding how much her abduction almost destroyed him. “Okay, Mulder,” she relented. She held up a finger conditionally. “But only for tonight.”

“You got it, Scully.”

He had that boyish smile on his face and nodded towards her. “I don’t suppose you would mind if I run out to my car to grab my overnight bag?”

“Since when did you start carrying an overnight bag with you?”

“When you started to call me at odd hours to travel halfway across the country.” Something flashed in his eyes. “It wasn’t meant as an insult,” she added hastily.

“I know, Scully,” he said softly. “I’ll go make up the bed for you.”

She collected her shoes to grab her bag out of her car before taking the elevator back up to his apartment. In the back of her mind, since she had arrived at Mulder’s apartment, the entire ordeal felt off. She thought driving over Mulder’s apartment would ease some of her own worries and doubt but this entire situation was spiraling out of control. She did not know if she felt comfortable with that at all. 

She turned the doorknob to find the door in Mulder’s living room open. She heard him moving about the rarely sed room. “I hope you don’t mind the clutter,” he called. Scully stood in the doorway and watched him. “Sheets are clean. The bathroom’s through there.” He gestured at the lit doorway opposite of him. “Can you think of anything else?”

“No, I don’t think so, Mulder. I can still go home and get out of your hair.”

“You’ll do no such thing, Scully. If it makes you feel better, I won’t say anything else about the matter.”

He adjusted the quilt on the bed and gave her one last smile. “Goodnight, Scully. And I’m glad you decided to stay.”

She bit her lip as he shut the door behind him. Scully suddenly felt trapped and at odds with the war of doubt that had been brewing in her head. Hell, that was the whole reason why she had made the trek to Alexandria to begin with. Now, here she was, a prisoner in Mulder’s rarely used bedroom. She could make a run for it and go back to Georgetown, but she was tired. Scully decided that she would likely have trouble sleeping even in her own bed and decided to spend the night and try and make the best of a crappy situation.

**************

The second time Scully woke up, she was disoriented and it took a moment for her to gain her bearings. The dimly lit alarm clock revealed it was 3:14 a.m. The unfamiliar bed felt foreign and she could not get comfortable. She tossed and turned before giving up and turning on the lamp. Boxes upon boxes surrounded her and in the dim light, she caught words like textbooks, photos, Samantha, and research. She shifted her attention and saw a dim light coming from the door that separated the bedroom and living room. She couldn’t hear the tv.

With curiosity biting at her, she got out a foreign bed and creaked the bedroom door open. Scully shivered and grabbed a spare blanket off the bed to wrap around her shoulders. She found Mulder wide awake lying on his couch, staring at some fixed point within his fish tank. The mollies swam back and forth and he sighed. “Am I keeping you up, Scully?”

“No,” she answered softly. “I just woke up. You know I have trouble sleeping in different beds sometimes.”

Mulder pushed himself up and patted the leather couch beside him invitingly. “Come sit with me.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was already up, Scully.” He gave her a tired smile. “I can turn on a light or something.”

“No, this is fine.” She sat gingerly on the couch next to him. “I just have been having trouble sleeping since this entire ordeal. That’s why I tried to call earlier tonight. And why I came here.” She shrugged and Mulder tugged at the blanket fondly. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he chuckled. “I remember having the same problem after Modell.”

“What problem?”

“The lack of sleep.” He crossed his legs and rested them on the coffee table. “Well, worse than usual. I kept seeing the gun and your face. More than anything it was your eyes, Scully that always woke me up.”

“My eyes?”

He nodded and glanced at her. “It is what you mentioned yourself. Betrayal of trust. I just remember the pain in your eyes.” Mulder sighed. “I know that this...little crusade of mine has cost us both.”

Scully maneuvered the blanket around her shoulders and cast it over both of them. Mulder smiled gratefully in the dim light. She brought her knees to her chest and rested her head against her bicep. “I know,” she murmured.

“I should’ve have protected you better,” he confessed softly. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “The night on Skyline Mountain. The light. You were gone.”

“But I came back.”

“Because they decided they could bring you back to prove a point.”

“Mulder,” she whispered, “I’m not Samantha.”

“I know,” he replied. “You Scully. My Scully.” The way he repeated her surname sounded like an endearment. “But still...I can’t help but think that your sister would be alive if it wasn’t for me.”

The silence was deafening. 

“Missy said everything happens for a reason, Mulder. One Christmas, when I was still in medical school, she came home. We went to Old Town Alexandria. Not too far from here. We had a girls' night. I was drunk. She was drunk. We both decided to do palm readings from this little place on the second story off King Street next to a tobacco shop.”

He chuckled. “You, Scully? A palm reading?”

“It was her idea and I was too drunk to disprove it.” Mulder chuckled again. “What?”

“Next time we discuss one of my theories, I’ll bring the whiskey.”

She smiled and moved closer to him to the point they were almost touching. “Missy went first,” she continued, ignoring his loaded comment, “and the fortune she had, well, it was a good thing we were both drunk.”

“What was her fortune?”

“Missy was told she would die young. The fortune-teller specifically said 33 years old.”

“Scully…”

She held up a finger. “But, in the afterlife, she would do her most beneficial work.”

Mulder recalled the night he thought about taking his own life during Scully’s abduction and it was Melissa Scully that had interrupted that horrible attempt. But it was her that made him believe Scully was still there, even if she was in a coma.

“Do you think she is watching over you now?” he whispered.

“I like to think so,” Scully replied. “But what was ironic was my own fortune that strikes a chord...well, at the time.”

“What do you mean?”

“We were both drunk that night and I haven’t actually thought of it until now.”

“What about it?” He moved so he could face her. After a moment, he took her hand and lounged backward. She fought him initially but relented after a few minutes. It was much cozier than just sitting on the couch. “Just relax.”

“This is very unprofessional.”

“Since when is anything we did professional?”

Mulder’s hand drifted to the small of her bag and she relaxed. His fingertips grazed her bare skin giving her shivers. He pulled the blanket up around them. She relaxed. “Tell me what your fortune was?”

“I would meet my other half,” she confessed after a long moment.

“Really?”

“Quit making fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

Scully nuzzled his cotton shirt and breathed deeply. The familiar scent of whatever was ‘Mulder’ wafted through her nose. As she reflected on the fortune she had been told, at the time, she thought it meant Daniel but now, after going through the past few years, and Missy’s prodding. Maybe it meant someone else.

“But yeah. False promises on soulmates.”

“I wouldn’t call it a false promise or false fortunes.” He moved a stray piece of hair out of her face. “Maybe you just haven’t met him yet.”

“Maybe.”

His fingers drifted up under her top towards the rest of her back. “It was the trust,” she whispered. He was distracting her. She couldn’t collect her thoughts. “I feel like, after everything, I can only trust you because you know. You understand. I call you first. Then my mother. Or my brothers.”

“So when you thought I betrayed you, you went to the next place?”

“My mother’s.”

Mulder rested his forehead against hers. “You know that I would never do anything to you, Scully. Right?”

“I know, Mulder.”

She licked her lips and kissed him before she could stop herself. Mulder broke away, smiled, and attacked with renewed vigor. Words were lost between them as useless couch cushions were pushed off and Scully gained leverage to straddle his waist. Wait. No. So many no’s flashed through her head but she could not stop herself. It was an urge to feel safe, to trust, and to know that someone was there for her. Mulder was that person. But she felt the rising pressure between her legs that came from Mulder.

“We shouldn’t,” she warned.

“I know,” he breathed.

“So much could go wrong.”

“I know.”

But neither one of them made an effort to stop themselves. “Scully, we can go a step further or we can stop this. I don’t want it to stop. Tell me what you want?”

She slid slowly off his hips and gathered the blanket. “I should, uh, go back to bed. I’m sorry for what just happened.”

“Scully…” he called. 

She disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door, her last barrier to keep her from losing herself control. After the most recent episode with fearing Mulder’s betrayal and being prepared to shoot him in the face. But to her utter horror, Mulder was trailing her. The door opened with a bang and she jumped. “Jesus, Mulder.”

“Please, hear me out. Is it something I did?”

“No,” she breathed. “We just can’t, Mulder. I had a moment, that is all.”

“A moment,” he repeated. “That wasn’t a moment. You can trust me, Scully. I promise I won’t betray you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She brought the blanket around her shoulders instinctively like a shield. Childhood memories of distrust flashed in her head, one of the reasons why she became so private of a person as an adult. But here he was, invading her personal space just like he did the first day they met. He cupped her cheek. Her eyes closed as he gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Sometimes, I don’t know who to trust but I know, deep down, I always can trust you.”

“You can trust me now.”

Scully nodded into his hand. Mulder took that as a sign and gently leaned forward to kiss her soundly. The kiss sent electricity through every part of her body and unconsciously, she grasped both of his hands and held on tightly. Mulder deepened the kiss. At that moment, they were both lost. It was something about being able to trust someone with your entirety, body, mind, and soul, and not have to worry about any fears or repercussions. Just because you knew. You trusted them. The blanket fell from her shoulders. Mulder’s warm hands crept under her shirt and she shivered. They were so close to one another.

“Scully, please.” He sounded like he was begging. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

She closed her eyes, bit her lip, and give him the slightest nod. He was reverent in his movements as he let his fingers trail down her back slowly as if memorizing her. She bowed her head forward and willed herself to move, to do something. Finally, she regained control of her hands and gently peeled off his tee-shirt. She saw the puckered scar on his shoulder that still looked fresh despite it being over a year old.  He smiled slightly and kissed her tenderly. The first time Scully had let herself imagine this scenario, she imagined he would be much more vigorous in his efforts, almost like one of his films. But so fair, he kept surprising her.

“I know,” she whispered.

She walked them backwards until the back of her knees met the mattress. “It’s been a while,” she whispered.

“Same here.”

Scully felt all sorts of insecurity which she thought buried long ago bubble up. As if sensing those insecurities, he kissed her brow encouragingly and she relented. She pulled off her top in one movement and he swallowed hungrily. The small bulge earlier took on a new life. 

 “I know I’m not like…”

“You’re perfect,” he breathed.

She was tired of fighting and without hesitation, she lunged forward to kiss him, and then guide him back onto the bed. Like explorers charting the unknown lands, they began their newest adventure. He left a trail of kisses like breadcrumbs down her shoulder blades and down the valley of her breasts. She shivered at the soft touches from his lips. “I wouldn’t go that far,” she murmured. 

She leaned back into the pillows taking him with her. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Scully,” he breathed. He took a moment to meet her gaze. “I want you to trust me. I want to be the only one that you trust. More than friends.”

“I remember, Mulder.” She played with his hair. “But that was then, this is now. Things have changed between us.”

“That little small town wasn’t that long ago,” he countered.

He was intent on just lazily kissing her right now. She didn’t seem to mind. “But again, neither one of us was in our right mind.”

He paused and rolled to the side so he could watch her. “The planets hadn’t aligned properly.”

“Not then anyways.”

Mulder propped his head upon his left arm so he could watch her. Despite the wall of boxes in the unused bedroom, he had left the sole window free and clear. The blinds were half open and she could see the streetlights and shadows dance across his face. “I know you said you were ashamed during your little episode but you shouldn’t be.”

“How weren’t you affected by it?”

His hand traced down her smooth abdomen in thought and played with the elastic of her pajama pants. “Hmm? Oh. I’m red-green colorblind and according to the Gunmen, it was something like that causing it.” He saw her raised eyebrow. “In one eye. A childhood accident or something?” He switched winking at her with each eye. “My right eye is fine. My left eye...not so much.” He opened both eyes and smiled. “I can still tell you’re hair is red, not green, but it isn’t as vibrant with both eyes versus just my right eye. Now you blue eyes? Those stand out. Isn’t that funny how that is a thing?”

She chuckled. “I can think of any number of reasons how you might have become color blind in one eye, though extremely rare…” She sighed at the sensation as any rational thoughts escaped her as Mulder found her mons. “Jesus, it’s been too long.”

“Good vibrations,” Mulder sang off-key, “I’m picking up good vibrations.”

Scully laughed at Mulder’s horrible rendition of The Beach Boys before she was silenced by one of his kisses. His hand moved with an independent mind of its own as he experimented with a kiss or a slight tug on her earlobe. Each new sensation caused her to gasp and move under him or buck towards him. “Mulder, enough play.”

His fingers dipped into the ‘v’ of her thighs. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered.

They awkwardly peeled away the remains of their clothes and with unspoken communication, they sealed their union. It was quick, awkward, but all at the same time, unforgettable. Afterward, entangled together like a sailor’s knot, beneath the lightly used blankets, they lay together. It started to rain and Mulder nuzzled her neck and whispered. “You can trust me, Scully...if nothing else, we will always have each other.”

“We’ve been some dark roads,” she whispered into the night air. Mulder coiled around her. “I fear it’s only going to get worse.”

“Mmm.” He vibrated all around her and she tried to pull him closer. “While it may, you'll always have someone to trust.”

“Where does this leave us, Mulder?” she whispered.

“We’re good,” he whispered.  “We’re fine. Nothing will change.”

“We just…”

He silenced her with another kiss and she melted against him. She was tired of being unable to trust anyone and the weight of their work felt crushing in moments like this. “We’re okay, Scully. We’re going to be okay.”

“Do you trust me?”

Scully breathed deeply and tried to memorize the moment. Mulder around her. The unused bedroom that had become their private sanctuary. The rain outside beating against the window. The streetlights and the wind moving their branches. He pulled the blankets around them.

“Yes,” Scully answered. “I trust you.”