#for whatever else I think Jimmy doesn’t ever regret TRYING even given that it never works out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

m0ther-of-p3arl · 10 months

Text

every dead-end street

(robert aeor high au p12)

masterpost

*bonks this on you in a rush cuz imma be outta town the next 5 days or so*

He hears the door swing shut behind him, and turns to find Owen, pulling on his coat and jumping down the steps. Scott follows, the aching familiarity of the situation tainted by the gap that’s somehow grown acres between them, stifling the cool breeze that tosses Owen’s hair this way and that.

or, owen and scott reunion!!! also im not sure but this is possibly the longest chapter yet so :3

(5913 words)

Scott wakes in a cocoon of yellow feathers.

His face is pressed to someone’s chest, his arms wrapped around their middle and his hands pressed into their hair, legs intertwined with theirs, so familiar his heart aches.

Jimmy.

His eyes flash open as he realizes it’s him, the events of last night coming back to his mind in full, blazing technicolor. Lips and hands and warm, warm skin against his frozen exterior. Whispers and promises and episodes of goddamn High School Musical: The Musical: The Series.

He doesn’t want to move from his entangled position, it’s warm here, it’s safe. He doesn’t want to give it up, he’s so sure it was just a lapse of judgment on Jimmy’s part, but maybe if he stays still for a little while longer he can keep living in the fantasy. He clutches Jim tighter, nestling his face into the avian’s chest, breathing in the citrusy scent that he carries everywhere.

A pair of hands cup his chin and soft lips kiss his forehead. “Morning, Scott,” Jimmy’s familiar voice whispers, quiet and low, against his brow. Scott makes a muffled noise of protest, squeezing his eyes shut again, vaguely muttering something about how it’s too early and can they please just stay laying down for a bit longer.

Scott honestly can’t believe that he and Jimmy are, like, an item. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a mistake. Somehow, by some miracle, Jimmy likes him. Jimmy kissed him last night, something he never thought would happen from anyone, much less the boy he was so sure he’d ruined things with such a long time ago.

Scott thinks he might have a boyfriend. And as much as he wants to stay wrapped up in Jimmy’s wings forever, his anxiety will never let him settle down into the comfort if he doesn’t get a few things straight.

“Jimmy,” Scott says, pulling himself up and immediately regretting it, because now he’s vulnerable and exposed to the world, upright under the blankets in his favorite blue nightgown.

“That is my name, yes,” Jimmy says sarcastically, yawning as he sits up as well, his wings floofing out behind him, somehow wrapping around Scott yet again.

“So are we dating now?” Scott’s hands irrationally shake as he asks this, it’s such a stupid question given the circumstances-

“I mean. We literally spent last night making out? So I would hope so, yes?” Jimmy answers, affectionate confusion leaking into his voice.

“I was just- you know- making sure,” Scott rolls his eyes, trying to presume his comfortable icy exterior, and from the look on Jimmy’s face, failing miserably.

“Mhm. Sure.” The avian pats Scott condescendingly on the shoulder, his face the worst facsimile of seriousness Scott has ever seen.

“I hate you,” Scott grumbles, pulling his face into a mock pout and crossing his arms with a huff, which just causes Jimmy to snicker even more.

“Love you too,” Jim smiles, what Scott thinks to be a genuine tone hidden underneath the snark . “So what’s the plan for today?”

Scott looks off into the distance, out Jimmy’s window at the rows of trees crossing through suburbia, his hands wrapped around each other so tightly he can see the knuckles turning even paler than his natural skin tone. “I… actually, I have something I need to do before anything else, but after that I’m free for whatever.” He can hear his voice shaking, and he’s sure it’s even more obvious to Jimmy, who plops back down and rests a hand on his back- which does calm him, though admittedly not much.

“Want me to come along?” Jim asks, his tone soft and unforceful.

Scott shakes his head. “Not this time.”

Jimmy nods. “I get it.” And the thing is, Scott can tell that he does.

It’s a long walk up the familiar neighborhood streets, all the turns imprinted permanently in Scott’s memory from years and years of walking the same routes around this stupid city. His feet scuff along the pavement, the sun shining down from a cloudless blue sky. The leaves are just starting to turn for autumn, tinges of yellow and orange peeking around the corners of imposing maple trees, the wind combing through branches to create a cacophony of rustling sound.

It’s been a while since Scott’s been in this part of town, and there’s a good reason why. It’s honestly terrifying, being so close to where it all happened, and Scott doesn’t even notice he’s shaking until he wraps his arms around himself for comfort. A part of him, and not an insignificant part either, wishes Jimmy was here to make things easier- and most of the time, that’s exactly what the avian does. But right now, with what he’s about to do, he knows that having Jimmy there would absolutely ruin any chances of reconciliation.

He’s been so lost in his thoughts that he walks right past his destination, before doing a double take and turning on his heel, walking back and standing right in front of a tan-colored, two-story house. It’s been so fucking long since he’s walked up these steps, knocked on the paint-peeling door, a familiar orange tiefling grin peeking out at him from behind him. It’s been so fucking long since he’s seen Owen at all, and he misses him more than he’d care to admit. He stands there, rooted still to the sidewalk, swallowing nervously, for what feels like hours, the seconds dragging by with every beat of his heart.

It’s not too late. He could turn back, head home and spend a quiet, uneventful day with Jimmy, forget this ever happened.

For a second, he almost considers it.

But he knows he can never live with himself if he gives up, he’ll curse himself for the rest of his life if he lets himself walk back home. So instead, he steps up the decaying wooden stairs, the porch leaning heavily beneath his weight as he trods across it and raps his knuckles loudly against the door. Paint peels off beneath his touch, joining the first fallen leaves in the wind and tumbling across the street. Scott turns idly to watch it blow away, his neutral face hopefully not betraying his rabbiting heart.

And the door creaks open behind him.

His head snaps back quickly, meeting a familiar pair of eyes as they peer through the crack of the door at him.

“...Scott?” Owen asks, confusion lacing his voice, and, Scott hopes, a little happiness too.

“Hi.” Scott tries for a smile, but it doesn’t quite land, and he’s certainly not about to force one if it won’t come. “Would you care to join me on a walk?”

“Sure,” Owen mutters, glancing behind him into the house. “Let me grab my coat, I’ll be right with you.”

Scott nods, taking long strides over to the side of the porch and leaning up against the railing, as he’s done so many times before. This whole house, this whole street, gives him deja vu, the memories almost tangible around every corner. But with the nostalgia comes a deep, crunching anxiety; he can barely contain his fear that he’ll see Father walking down the road, snakes hissing forebodingly and that familiar sneer that’s somehow even colder than Scott’s skin. In fact, he can just make out the roof of his old home, the Major Mansion, from here, and even the simple sight gives him shivers down his spine.

They walk in silence for a little, neither daring to speak, following the well-tread routes they’ve known since they were young, before they’d met; when the orange tiefling had just been a question living right down the road from Scott.

“So. Uh. How’s it been?” Scott asks, trying to keep his voice light and utterly failing, breaking quietly before he’s finished the sentence.

“How do you think?” Owen answers, for once not a trace of mirth on his face, his eyes full of annoyance and sadness and hope and loss, pointed stubbornly down at the pavement.

“I mean, you’ve kind of been ignoring me lately, so I wouldn’t really know,” Scott says, tone breezy enough to hide the anger simmering underneath. And that, that subtle, ignorable undertone, is enough to set it all ablaze.

“I’ve been ignoring you? Are you fucking kidding me?” Owen stares shocked, eyes wide and offended and more than a little bit angry.

“What else would you call” (Scott gestures to the space between them) “all this?”

“Pray tell, what would you consider ‘all this’?” Owen mocks his hand motions, making them seem wild and erratic, a judging, aloof expression blanketing his usually-smiling features.

“You know what I mean, Owen. You know me well enough to know what I’m talking about. The distance! The way we can’t even talk anymore, you ignore me all the time, don’t you know how hard my past many months have been?!” Scott seethes, dimly aware of the rims of his shades frosting over in the corners of his vision.

“What about me?” Owen grabs his shoulders and spins him around until their eyes have met, brown glaring into piercing cyan. “Have you asked even once, since you met Jimmy, how I’ve been doing? My parents are getting divorced, Scott, and I can’t even talk to my best friend about it.”

Scott’s struck momentarily speechless, because oh god, he didn't expect Owen to have a valid response, but quickly recovers, spitting, “You didn’t even try!”

“I did, though,” Owen sighs, kicking at the pavement. “I attempted to contact you about it on many separate occasions. But no, we always had to talk about you, you, you. Scott, you never even left me any room to get a word in edgewise!” He yells the last sentence, and Scott can see hints of tears in his eyes. Again, he’s slightly taken aback, he can remember maybe one time when he’s seen Owen cry, in all the years of them being best friends.

Maybe he doesn’t know the tiefling as well as he thought.

“I- How was I supposed to know, Owen? My dad kicked me out of the house and I had to move in with my crush. I had a lot on my plate, okay?” Scott fumbles, trying to find the right words, his confidence crumbling down rapidly.

“Apparently not enough to listen to your best friend’s problems in addition to talking about yours. I had my own shit going on, Scott, still do- and you couldn’t even be bothered to listen to it. And here you go again, talking about you. Like, I get it, okay? You’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry. Genuinely.” Owen pauses, turning around to face Scott. “But that doesn’t give you an excuse to neglect your duties as a friend. For a little bit, sure. But it’s been seven months.”

“Well, you didn’t-” Scott pauses midway through his sentence, breathing in deeply. “You know what, this is a stupid argument. Can we just forget about this? It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, Scott, actually, it does matter,” Owen hisses, broken and full of rage, his voice echoing across the neighborhood streets, earning him some nasty looks from passersby. “I love you, Scott, so much. You’re my best friend and I miss you. But I’m also your best friend, so sit down, take a second to think, and then tell me that you’ve been in the right here.”

“But-”

“Nope. Sit down by this tree and think.” Owen points authoritatively to the roots of an old oak sprouting out of the tree lawn, his mouth pursed, not giving room for an argument.

Fuming, Scott flops down, staring angrily through Owen’s knees. He’s not in the wrong. He’s had such a fucking tough time, nothing could possibly compare, his life has been tossed into the ocean and swallowed by a shark that was then gutted from the inside, its intestines held high for all to see.

But that doesn’t diminish Owen’s suffering.

Scott’s past few months have been hell, they have to be so much worse than whatever the heck’s going on with Owen. Like, Scott’s sure it’s been hard for him, but it can’t possibly have been as bad as Scott being kicked out of his house by his abusive father.

But that doesn’t mean Owen hasn’t had a hard time lately as well.

Scott has been in such a dark place, such a terrible headspace, such a just generally horrific time in his life, Owen’s not allowed to pretend like everything’s been all diddly dandy for him when it’s been the polar fucking opposite.

But Owen is his best friend and Scott’s supposed to be there for him.

Owen’s supposed to be there for Scott too, though! Scott and Owen are supposed to be a package deal, they’re supposed to stick by each other, Owen’s supposed to support Scott unconditionally. Isn’t that what friendship is? And yet, lately he hasn’t even been answering Scott’s texts.

Did Scott have time to respond to texts when he was being kicked out of his house?

It’s different, though, it can’t have been as bad as that-

That doesn’t mean whatever Owen’s been through wasn’t still hard for him.

Scott’s pain-

Pain is not a contest.

It was worse-

Both of their different experiences are allowed to coexist.

Owen’s been such a bad friend lately.

So has Scott.

…so has Scott.

Scott stands, his hands shaking.

“You done sulking? Are you ready to talk like an adult now, or-”

Before Owen finishes his sentence, Scott steps forward and wraps him in a strong, tight hug, the tiefling stiffening at first but then relaxing into Scott’s embrace, his arms reaching up to hug him back, his fists gripping the loose fabric of Scott’s dress.

“I’m sorry,” Scott whispers, the words scratching in his throat, something he hasn’t been saying enough recently. “I’ve not been the best friend lately, huh?”

“Neither have I, to be honest with you.” Owen laughs a silly little half-laugh, still clutching tightly against Scott’s back, and it feels so good, so right, to have his best friend pressed against him, the smell of his hair the same pinecone scent it’s always been, since the day they met.

“I thought you were convinced you were so ‘in the right’ here,” Scott teases, pulling away from Owen and poking him lightly in the chest, a clear sign of surrender that they both know well, unspoken but always mutually recognized- Scott can tell Owen sees it too, as he immediately relaxes.

“To be honest, I knew the only way I was going to get you to realize what was going on was if I acted like you were the only one who’d done anything wrong. Everyone just always has to go the extra mile for you, Scott S-smajor.” Owen’s trying to stay chipper, but Scott can hear the cracks in his voice, the raw emotion leaking through after months of holding it back.

And sure enough, just moments after finishing his words, Owen’s lower lip begins to quiver and he breaks down, sinking to the sidewalk and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, shaking his head with all the unspoken words, all the hardships he’s endured these past months.

And this time, his best friend is right there beside him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Scott asks, sitting as well, and resting a hand lightly atop Owen’s shaking shoulder.

The tiefling nods, rattling sobs escaping from his throat. “Argh, Scott, I d-didn't mean to melt down on you, I’m s-sorry.” The way he says it breaks Scott’s heart, like Owen somehow thinks he’s done something wrong by letting all his emotions free-flow for a bit.

“Don’t be. You’re fine, I could not care less. Trust me, I’ve been there. So what’s the scoop? Also, mate, when was the last time you cried?”

That gets a laugh out of Owen, albeit a half-hearted, shaky one. “I don’t actually remember?”

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Scott asks, rubbing a hand over the nape of his neck. “We’re kind of blocking up the sidewalk.”

“Sure,” Owen mutters, pulling himself to his feet and rubbing aggressively at his eyes and breathing deeply to steady himself.

“So, what’s going on? Tell me everything, and I mean everything: I want the full rundown, all the details, the whole story.” This time, Scott means it.

And so Owen talks as they walk, ending up climbing the giant pine in his backyard and sitting amongst its branches like they have for as long as they’ve been friends. Owen explains how his parents have been arguing for a long time, really big, yelling arguments, and finally, after leaving the house in a huff and living in a motel for a week, Owen’s mom had finally called home- only to announce that she was ordering a divorce.

“That’s a shitty move,” Scott interjects, wrinkling his nose.

“Yeah, it kind of was,” Owen agrees, sighing and leaning against the trunk of the tree, his tears having stopped for now, though his eyes are still red-rimmed and his nose still sniffy.

He continues on to explain how after that, it’s been weeks of alternating close contact or no contact with his mom, and his sisters, all nine of them, are absolutely emotionally lost. His other mother is struggling to bring home enough money to feed them all, and his mom is just draining all the money from the family bank account.

“It’s been really hard on all of us,” Owen mutters, wiping at his eyes aggressively. “Like, I love Mom and all, but she’s being a real bitch right now- she could have tried to stick it out with Mother, if only for me and my sisters. And that’s not something I say lightly.”

“Yeah, you really don’t like to swear,” Scott comments, stretching and cracking his neck.

“Yeah, no,” Owen laughs lightly, a cautious sound as if he’s afraid to show his genuine emotions, and Scott feels his teeth clench in sadness.

Owen goes on, finishing with the fact that his sisters are going to have to live with their grandparents for a while, and as of now, Owen doesn’t really have much of anywhere to go. His dad’s tried to explain that sending him to boarding school might be the best bet, but Owen’s having none of it.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” he admits, looking down and coughing gently, his feet kicking in wide arcs that stir up the twenty feet of empty air below them on the branches.

“So you can’t stay with your dad right now? Like, there’s not enough money?” Scott asks to clarify, leaning back against the tree, eyebrows furrowed, concerned, in Owen’s direction.

Owen shakes his head, lips drawn tight and eyes looking anywhere but Scott’s. “There’s really nothing to be done for it. I pretend I have a say in the situation, but deep down, I know that there’s really not another possibility at this point.”

“You could come live with me and Jimmy,” Scott spits out before he can catch himself, eyes going wide as he realizes what he’s said. “I mean, you don’t have too, obviously, but I’m sure John and Laura would have you, they took me in, and I know you and Jimmy don’t really get along and you blame him for a lot of things, but maybe give it a chance? Genuinely, Owen, I really, really don’t want you to leave.”

“I don’t want to leave either,” the tiefling mumbles, a thickness to his voice that Scott rarely gets the privilege to hear. “But I’ve genuinely been such a jerk to Jimmy, Scott, like, he did nothing wrong. And I’m- I would love to live with you, and I mean this truly, but I don’t think Jimmy would have me. And if it’s you, him, and Beks now, I don’t know if there’s enough money or space for me.”

“Well, let’s just go check then,” Scott says, a smile growing across his face as he begins to descend from the tree.

“Wha- Scott, we can’t just go up to his house! And aren’t you and him all awkward and stuff? Like, after the whole kissing thing that you wouldn’t shut up about all those months ago?” Owen asks, scrambling to follow.

“No, uh, actually turns out he does like me. But that’s not important- plus, you forget, it’s also my house.” Scott drops down, his feet landing firmly on the hard-packed soil as Owen lands a little less nimbly besides him, taking a few stuttering steps forward before regaining his composure and grabbing Scott’s shoulders, staring him in the eyes.

“What. You’re dating. You and that little scrunkly bird man. Scott, you have a boyfriend?!” Owen yells the last sentence so loud that Scott flinches in an involuntary response, certain that all the neighbors are now listening in.

“Shut up,” Scott mutters, stepping out of Owen’s backyard and onto the sidewalk, turning back the way he’d come, back towards home.

“No. No I will not, when did this happen?” And there it goes again, a perfectly normal conversation turned to Scott’s business. He curses himself inwardly.

“Last night. Can we talk about something else instead? Because you just went off on a huge tangent about me talking about myself too much, so, you know, hypocritical much?”

“Scott, I didn’t mean you can never talk about yourself ever. Plus, we’ve just gone over my problems for like an hour, so I think you’re pretty much clear to rant to me about your boyfriend and how that all happened on the walk over to Jimmy’s… which I’m not quite sure about because we’re really not friends at all, why would he have me even if his parents are able to take me in…” Owen mutters the last sentence under his breath, still very obviously uncomfortable with the whole situation.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Scott soothes. Though, he’s not sure in the slightest, to be honest, but Owen is his best friend and if he needs help, Scott wants to be the one to offer it.

But going back to the tiefling’s earlier comment on the way to his house, Scott tells Owen everything. Every little last detail, every grievance and the high points and the lows. The only thing he leaves out is the weird memory-sharing thing, because he and Jimmy haven’t even really talked about that yet, and they probably should before anything else.

He also doesn’t tell Owen that he’s apparently the reason Jimmy hasn’t-

The reason Jimmy’s not-

He shivers involuntarily, because even imagining Jimmy dead is just- it’s too much, a world where he doesn’t have Jimmy isn’t even something he’d like to theorize about right now. But it’s also none of Owen’s business, it was something told to Scott in confidence, and he’s definitely going to have to bring it up with Jimmy later because he wants to do everything and anything in his power to prevent something like that from happening.

He doesn’t know how he can live with himself if Jimmy confesses to Scott about his suicidal (Scott can’t even-) and Scott does nothing about it.

And then before he knows it, here they are, standing in front of Jimmy’s house. Owen shoots him one last worried glance, and Scott shakes his head, smiling gently. He grabs the tiefling’s wrist, pulling him up the stairs and through the door, until there they are, standing on the foyer.

“Jimmy!” Scott calls, cupping his hand around his mouth.

“I’m in the kitchen,” the avian yells back, and Scott nods encouragingly towards Owen, beckoning for him to follow as he heads into the kitchen. Owen does, albeit quite hesitantly.

“So. Uh. I brought a friend over,” Scott says, entering the kitchen and leaning up against the counters as he always does, Owen’s head peeking nervously around the corner.

“Oh!” Jimmy sounds quite surprised, and honestly, why shouldn’t he be? “Hey, Owen, how’s it going?”

“Um, not- not the best, honestly,” Owen mutters, rubbing his hand on the back of his head. “Welp! Thanks, Scott, for bringing me here, but I really should get going-”

As Owen turns to leave, Scott shoots out a hand to grab his shoulder, shaking his head admonishingly. Jimmy seems completely out of his depth, just standing there in an apron, absolutely covered in flour- Scott snickers silently at the bright smudge of white across Jimmy’s cheek, the powder dusting everywhere from the tips of his hair to the softest cadmium feathers of his wings.

“Owen,” Scott starts, glaring pointedly at the tiefling now stood awkwardly beside him, “has something to say.”

Glancing to his right, Owen bites his lip, breathing in deeply before he speaks. “So. Hi, Jimmy- um. Shoot, I’m no good at this- give me a second?” he laughs clumsily, fumbling for words that aren’t there. Scott rests a gentle hand on his shoulder, silent support that seems to help, as Owen closes his eyes for a couple seconds, before opening them as well as his mouth and beginning to speak.

“Look, before I do anything, I just want to say I’m sorry.” His voice is strong, so much stronger than it was just a couple seconds ago, and Scott is honestly kind of shocked at the sudden switch. “I’ve been a jerk to you since the day we met. You did nothing to provoke my dislike and you didn’t deserve it. You’re a genuinely lovely person, and if I’m honest, I was jealous of you.

“I saw how close you and Scott were getting, how much he very obviously liked you- he still does. And I’m his best friend, I was used to getting the majority of his attention. And if I’m honest, I was worried that he’d hurt you. Scott hasn’t always had it easy, in fact, it’s been much harder than him for most. I was there to witness a lot of that and I won’t speak for him, but I’ll just say that there have been days where even I couldn’t cheer him up.” Jimmy’s listening intently, Scott can tell, his ear feathers are pricked up and his wings relaxed as he leans forward on his hands to hear, nodding along to all the important parts.

“And you did. On the days where I failed, you made him happy. And I was angry and confused and jealous and just… I was worried, I guess, for my best friend. You were such a beacon to him, we could all see it, me and Shelby and even Joel, who’s pretty much the least emotionally intelligent person on the planet. I think we all knew if you hurt Scott, it would be such a genuine blow to him. And I didn’t want that to happen. But I was also really annoyed that I couldn’t be the beacon that you were, I was angry that he was moving away from me.”

Scott’s eyebrows crease, because everything Owen is saying is completely and utterly true. In other circumstances, he would be furious at being spoken about like this right in front of him, but what Owen’s saying is such a complete and utter reading of him that he can’t muster up the anger.

“All he would talk about was you. And I was fed up. So I hated you and I was a huge jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of that. So, I’m sorry. I just need to get that out of the way before Scott reveals his big fancy plan or whatever he wants to call it. Just to clarify, what he’s about to say was completely his idea, I had no say in any of this, he just dumped it on me- and also sorry Scott for talking about you like you’re not there when you’re right next to me. And also possibly spilling all your secrets to Jim.” Owen bumps Scott’s shoulder with his own, and the gorgon shakes his head, rolling his eyes affectionately.

“But, yeah, I’m sorry,” Owen mutters, his tone back to serious, tail flicking gently behind him. “I sucked and I was really rude to you. I hope you can accept my apology.”

Jimmy presses his hand to his face. “You were really rude to me.”

Owen cringes, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together forcefully.

“And…” Jimmy trails off, sighing deeply and staring off into space. Owen and Scott share a quick glance, and Scott has to admit, he has no idea what Jimmy’s about to say.

“And because I’m a nice guy, and you’re Scott’s best friend, I’ll give you a second chance. What do you say? Friends?” The avian extends his hand and Scott can barely believe it, this is what he’s wanted for so long, they’re finally getting along.

“Friends,” Owen agrees, stepping forward to bridge the gap, firmly shaking Jimmy’s hand before the avian pulls him into a seemingly unexpected hug, as Owen’s eyes go wide before he somewhat awkwardly hugs back.

“So… what now?” Owen whispers, now back standing by Scott’s side.

“Now I get to talk,” Scott answers, moving forward and leaning against his arms pressed against the island.

“Jimmy, would John and Laura be open to taking another person in? Not for long, just for a little bit. We could set up a tent in the backyard or something, Owen just needs a place to stay for a while. There’s some shit going on with his parents and the alternative is him being sent to boarding school. And I know it’s a lot to ask and it was completely my idea, Owen had nothing to do with this scheme of mine at all, he was actually very against it.”

“And for good reason,” Owen interjects, “It’s way too early to ask you anything like that.”

“Anything like what?”

John’s voice intersects into the conversation as he enters the kitchen, Beks and Laura in his trail, heavy-looking grocery bags hanging from all their arms. John plops down his bags on the counter, crossing his arms and looking over at Owen. “Well, who’s this, then?”

“That’s Owen,” Scott reassures, resting a hand on the tiefling’s shoulder. “He’s my best friend- you know about him, he’s friends with Shelby and Joel and all of us.”

“So what do I owe the pleasure, Owen?” Laura’s reedy voice is much calmer than John’s, and Owen’s shoulders visibly relax.

“Oh, um, I was just-”

“I want him to live here,” Scott interrupts, eyes shining with hope. “Just for a short amount of time, but otherwise he leaves for boarding school, and I don’t want that, he’s my best friend.”

Laura sighs and rubs her hands against her temples, leaning back against the wall and exchanging a meaningful glance with John. “Scott, honey, we’re already taking care of three of you, I just- we’re stretched thin enough already, you know? And where would he stay, we have no room?”

“He could stay in the backyard, in a tent, and we could all get jobs to pitch in around the house!” Scott’s not going to let this go, he can’t let Owen leave, not after they’ve just fixed things, he can’t-

“To be honest with you, and this is going to sound really selfish,” Beks starts, “I really don’t need to share my house with another weird boy I don’t even know.” Jimmy flinches slightly, almost imperceptibly, at her statement.

“That’s kind of uncalled for, Beks,” Jimmy mutters before Scott can say anything, his wings drawn protectively around him. “That’s- I dunno, that feels kind of like a terrible thing for you to say?”

“Yes, Beky, that’s out of line. We’re going to have to talk about that later,” John cuts in, his beefy dad arms folded across his chest. “But regardless, Scott, I’m so sorry-”

“No.” Scott’s voice is tiny, shaking and trembling like the leaves he’s seen today, blowing away in the wind, with no power of their own.

“-but Owen cannot stay.”

“No!” Scott runs after John as he makes his way upstairs, brushing the unwanted tears aggressively out of his eyes. “John, you don’t understand, if he doesn’t stay here he has to leave, and he can’t leave, he’s my best friend, he’s one of the only people who understands me and we just fixed things between us, please, you let me stay, why not Owen?”

John sighs, rubbing his temples. “Scott, you need to understand. If we take Owen in, and as much as I wish we could, we’ll have four teenagers to take care of. Do you know how much even one of you hooligans eat? Even with Bek, we were struggling. Then she found Jimmy, alone on the street, and it wasn’t like we could turn him down.”

Scott’s given up trying to stop the tears because he is sobbing now, he doesn’t want to lose his friend he can’t they don’t understand no one understands Owen is the only reason why he hasn’t cut himself off completely Owen is the person he cares about the most on the entire planet and they don’t get it, if he doesn’t stay here in this house with Scott he leaves. Owen has to leave.

“Then you showed up. We were hesitant, I’m not going to lie, but Laura convinced me that we should take you in. Both you and Jimmy were in very vulnerable spots when you came into our lives, both of you would still be homeless if not for us. But in addition to paying for food for all of you, you forget that we also have to pay for your school tuition. And we just can’t do that for another kid. I’m sorry, Scott.” This time when John ascends the stairs, his bedroom door slamming shut behind him, Scott doesn’t follow.

Instead, he runs out the door, his head throbbing and wishes pounding this way and that inside his mind. He doesn’t listen when Owen calls him back, pretends to not hear as Jimmy yells after him, asking where he’s going. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t care.

Scott just runs.

And he’s not surprised when he looks up, all out of breath, and finds himself right back in front of the Major family mansion. Right back to where it all fucking began.

Somehow, Scott’s not surprised at all as he closes his eyes, breathing deeply, and begins to walk down the cobbled path, through the all-too-perfect garden, glaring straight at the white marble building looming before him the whole time.

And not a bone in his body holds him back as he climbs the wide colonnade steps to his old home, rapping once, twice, three times on the “M”-emblazoned door, his knuckles almost vibrating from contact with the stone.

Scott’s not surprised that he came back here.

He is, however, very surprised that his mother, his siren, cult-leader mother, is the one who swings it open.

And it comes as even more of a shock when she wraps him in a strong, warm hug and ushers him inside.

20 notes · View notes

agent-cupcake · 4 years

Photo

Imagine having a child with a guy named Jimmy. Cursed.

OTHERWISE you all pretty much echoed what I was thinking, bless you.

cw pregnancy / forced pregnancy

(As ever, this is all in the context of dark personalities. I hesitate to say yandere, although that’s kind of become synonymous with dark personality AU’s and an obvious argument can be made that a darker take on the characters could lead into a yandere scenario)

Ferdinand von Aegir

~While I don’t think he’d go out of his way to have a baby, he definitely wouldn’t take any steps to avoid it, either. That is, he wouldn’t really stray into breeding kink territory or anything of that kind but he’s not gonna pull out either.

~But, yeah, if you were to get pregnant, Ferdinand wouldn’t be displeased by any means. He’d legitimately think it was the best way to “fix” things and out of a misguided attempt to ignore any negative aspects of the relationship and cling to the idealism of a happy marriage.

~Just a side note, but I def see him with a body worship kink and I can only begin to imagine how that would intensify with his weakness for the softness and so-called beauty of motherhood. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.

~Honestly, I don’t see him overtly leveraging as a manipulation tactic. No, he’s good enough that his genuine feelings could do the job for him. Like, it’s not just you anymore. You’re responsible for another life so don’t you think you just trust him and let him take care of you? Oh, sure, he’d humor you (on account of the hormones) and say that he understands why you’re upset, but please just calm down. Everything will be all right, he’ll take care of you.

~I think that Ferdinand would want a family even without the whole dark personality aspect. The way he’d see it is that children are a natural result of a union and love. He’d absolutely cherish your children if for no other reason than the fact that they’d be half you, although you can’t tell me that he wouldn’t have a horrible weakness for kids.

~You’d be barely showing and he’d be picking out baby names and getting opinions on how to decorate the nursery and occasionally freaking out due to anticipation and nerves. He’d be really, disastrously, over-the-top protective, too. I just assume white magic would greatly lessen the infant and mother mortality rate but that doesn’t entirely remove the risk of complications so he’d be cloyingly careful about everything you ate, keeping tabs on any possible oddity going on with you. And, you know, I think he would enjoy emotionally taking care of you. Like if you were scared or sad or anything, I think he’d enjoy comforting you in a way that’s definitely not healthy. He’d enjoy being needed, I suppose.

~Yeah, so overall I view any sort of darker personality take on Ferdinand to be him, but with his sweet and noble and protective traits dialed up to an eleven without any sort of self awareness to make him pause and consider that maybe you don’t feel the same so having a child like this, as an intentional act of manipulation to make you stay or not, would be within the realm of possibilities.

Sylvain Jose Gautier (Bastard Man)

~Sylvain is pretty easy to imagine with a dark personality. I mean, assuming you have no pity in your heart and are willing to write him in a way that he never was able to get over his myriad issues, self hatred, severe distrust of people’s true intentions, and familial trauma.

~Assuming all that, and entertaining the idea that he could never find a good balance of repression and escapism, I think Sylvain would create an unhealthy emotional bond to a single person he believed to be exempt from his overall dismal regard for people and do this fun little thing where he’d chaotically flip flop between extreme emotions of distrust, blame, and anger and adoration, need, and a desperation to be seen as he was and still loved.

~But it’d be a brutal cycle because he’s not the delusional type. Sometimes he could be, both with the good and the bad, but those would be kind of episodic. There’d be bad days where he’d be utterly convinced that you were just like the rest and he’d pick little fights and generally just be pretty pissy. But then sometimes he’d be blinded by love and so caught up in it that even if you told him no, he’d take it with a cheeky wink because of course you loved him and everything was so good. But, mostly, it’d just be a lot of dysfunction and Sylvain trying to lure you into a nice, good relationship with him by being mostly normal and decently charming and even, occasionally, being vulnerable (and tricking you into being vulnerable with him).

~Anyway, back to the point. With all that context, why not bring a baby into the mix, right?

~How many times does Sylvain bring up crest babies. Please, someone do a hard count and get back to me because damn son. So, may I just say, if anyone of these three were to have a breeding kink it’d be him. Is that controversial? Just think about it. Every girl ever wants him mystical crest cum, right? So, mentally, the whole thing would have a lot of weight and significance. Also Sylvain just strikes me as the type who’d be self aware enough of his dark and unhealthy needs that staking as intimate of a claim as that would be erotic. Unlike the other two, the act of forcing an irreversible and tangible change in your body and mind would be interesting. Not that he’d tell you any of that, or even dwell on it himself.

~I’m torn between Sylvain saying it was an accident and him using the argument that since the two of you were in love, it was only natural that you’d start a family together. How could you not want to have his children? Better yet, how was he supposed to know that you wanted to wait.

~But if you continued to be unreasonable, he’d go on the defensive. Like, what are you going to do? Leave him? For what? To raise his baby on your own? Or, worse, abandon your child? If you thought he’d voiced unfairly negative opinions about women before, the way he’d talk about a mother who abandoned her child and such a good, happy life with a loving husband would be infinitely worse. After all, he wanted to make a change in your relationship and be happy together. He wanted to be a good, loving father. He wanted a family with you. After everything, what kind of person would you be to throw that all away?

~So that’s... a lot.

~But Sylvain’s the type to be awful in the moment then regret it after the heat dies down. Knowing he’d hurt you would genuinely tear him up inside. All of that adoration and desperation to keep you with him because he’d feel like he needed you to be happy would kick in and he’d break down under the guilt and tell you how much he loved you, how happy it made him to think that the two of you could have a family, that he knew you would be a great mother, that he knew he’d messed up but he would make it up to you, that you really could be a happy family.

~Just saying, I can see him taking a perverse sort of pleasure in the physical effects of pregnancy. Also, he’d definitely be a lot softer with you. Guilty conscience, anyone?

Dimitri (Dimi) (Jimmy)

~You, dear anon, said it better than I could have myself. I agree SO HARD that Dimitri would be terrified of being a parent, but at the same time I think, if it were to happen, he’d be utterly enamored with the idea. There’s a lot more that I think about how he’d regard fatherhood, but that’s the gist.

~Funny thing is, darker Dimitri is just like... More needy... unbearably protective... Paranoid... less stable... bad at managing his emotions when it comes to you... But, like, the same general emotions about fatherhood would apply because that’s already pretty complex. Only, this time, with an obvious emphasis on how it would effect you and your relationship.

~I was going to say that I can’t see Dimitri purposefully impregnating you, but that’s not entirely true. In a fit where he’s feeling especially raw and paranoid, I think he would do it very purposefully and even almost-kinda-sorta relish in the idea.

~I view his obsessive feelings to be like an itch he can’t quite scratch because he knows better than anybody how easy it would be to lose you and doesn’t know how to manage both his own instability with the unpredictable world because at any moment it could all spiral apart.

~So, this in mind, he could believe that having a baby would make things different. More than just vows or words or rings or anything, it would be a concrete and absolute tie between the two of you. He would have an unquestionable claim over you that would go beyond the scope of just your relationship, you’d be carrying the royal heir which would give Dimitri even further valid excuses to be suffocatingly overprotective.

~It would be... So messy... On the one hand, I think the concept of fatherhood, of being given another chance, of being needed that much more by both you and the child, would really appeal to him. It could even sand off some of the rougher edges of his darker traits, now that he had this assured security in keeping you with him. Sure, the itch wouldn’t be scratched entirely, but it would be easier to ignore, there would be a solid way to reassure himself that you were his.

~But Dimitri’s got this awful middle ground of self awareness. Anything that would come off delusion would be a result of his endless attempts at rationalizing his unhealthy feelings and trying to make sense of it all without having to actually confront the issues. But that wouldn’t mean he wouldn’t know, on some level, that what he was doing wasn’t healthy and how bad it was for you. The guilt would be intense, which would be apart of the reason he needed to keep you so close all the time because then he could pretend that you needed him just as badly, that everything was all right because he could take care of you better than anyone else.

~Dimitri’s self aware guilt would allow a part of himself to understand that he should let you go. He could even, on the bad days, convince himself that maybe, one day, he would allow you to leave him because he loved you, because what he was doing was wrong. As long as you were near him, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself, he would always hurt you.

~But using pregnancy to force you to stay with him would, perhaps even in an intentional subconscious way, cut off that last-ditch contingency to ease his own guilt and pain of what he was doing by keeping you with him. Now that you were going to be having his child, the royal heir, would mean that you could never leave. He’d know it. You would probably know it, too.

~After that point, Dimitri would double down with proving his affection, proving that he was capable of taking care of you and his child and that you could be a family and everything would be okay.

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #ferdinand von aegir #sylvain jose gautier #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #yandere #fe ferdinand #fe sylvain #fe dimitri #pregnancy tw #headcanons #this is fucked up and i didn't intend to have this much to say #fucking jimmy #i'm not even INTO this like fuck having children but when it's all mental fuckery it tastes so good #i'm sorry guys

102 notes · View notes

admiralty-xfd · 5 years

Text

Culmination

Mulder and Scully live separate lives but can’t seem to forget each other. They begin work on the X Files again and slowly begin to reconnect.

This is chapter 17. To go back to the beginning of the story please click here.

Side note: This is probably my favorite chapter in this story. (Read: Daggoo!)

ISOLATION

SCULLY

(pre S10/ My Struggle I)

Loneliness is a choice.

It’s a choice she’s making again, but this time it feels different. This time she feels like she has no choice. She could be lonely with him, or be lonely without him.

The thought of being lonely with Mulder was the more painful of those two choices. So she left.

Trying to adjust to a life without him has not been easy. She knew it would be a huge change, but she hadn’t anticipated how every single facet of her life would be completely new. New living space, new routine, new acquaintances, new mindset. She supposes that’s what happens when you're so utterly dependent on another person.

Scully had always vowed not to be that person, not to be someone whose very existence relied so heavily on another, let alone on a man. But she broke that vow to herself years ago, she knew it then and she knows it now. She’s left herself completely vulnerable, no safety net in sight. He was her only safety net. Extricating herself from his orbit has been more difficult than she’s comfortable admitting.

The first few days had been a relief. After that it became torture.

It was a horrible feeling, knowing he was a phone call away and she couldn’t talk to him. She had arranged with one of her doctor colleagues to check up on him weekly and refill his prescriptions, which he agreed to wordlessly. She'd told her colleague to contact her if she'd encountered any problems or was ever unable to contact him, and so far she'd heard nothing. This satisfied her, for the time being, in regards to his health.

Divorcing him was something she’d never seriously considered. She tried to convince herself she avoided the topic because she didn’t want to go through all the paperwork and rigamarole involved in dissolving their relationship legally, but she knew that wasn’t the truth. The truth was, she couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t do it. Regardless of whether or not they’d ever get back together, he’d always be joined to her somehow. The thought of adding to both their heartbreaks with such a request was unfathomable to her, at least right now.

Twenty years. Twenty years together and somehow they'd made it all go away.

She buries herself in her work every day, knowing every life saved is one more that isn't her own. She's trying to be happy, but without him, she's lost. She doesn't feel regret, or acrimony, or bitterness; just loss. She's lost the person she cares about more than anything in the world.

She hasn’t spoken to him, other than words necessary to get her things moved out of their house, in ten months. She took what she needed, left everything else behind.

She knows it’s because she secretly hopes she will be back someday, but whenever she thinks about the possibility of this she can’t bring herself to call him. It’s as if they are arguing again about Bigfoot or Big Blue or Big Whatever Else, and they both want to be right, and they can’t both be right, but neither can be proven wrong, so they’re left in an infuriatingly frustrating stalemate. She thinks about this, then, just as quickly, the desire passes and she puts the phone down and continues to learn to live without him.

She’s never gone this long without speaking to him since they met. The gravity of that fact is only setting in now.

Her phone rings. She looks at the caller ID, and doesn’t know why she picks up. She wants to be mad at him but she’s not mad at him, she’s just sad about the whole thing. She’s needed this space to re-establish herself as her own person, her own being. Someone outside of his magnetic pull. But she can’t help but miss him. She’s ignored his calls for months and he hasn’t given up. A small part of her is hopeful that he hasn’t given up.

“Hello?”

“Oh… hi. You picked up.” His voice sounds good, he sounds good. He sounds more like himself again. She’s glad to hear that. After she left she’d worried about the very real possibility he might relapse. The familiarity of his voice hits her in the gut, not to mention how sexy she’s always found it. She tries to ignore that errant thought.

“I did.”

“So… how is everything?”

She pauses. “Okay. How are you?”

“I’m doing all right. It’s been really quiet around here.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking about getting a dog.”

“You are not,” she says incredulously. She’d floated the idea of getting a dog before but he’d never bitten. He had always been more of a fish kind of person.

“No, I’m not. Just wanted to see what you’d say,” she can hear him smiling. She smiles and rolls her eyes in spite of herself.

“I’d have one by now if my apartment allowed them,” she admits.

“How’s work going?”

“Mulder, did you really just call to chat?”

“Yes. Is that so wrong?”

She’s quiet for a second. Sighs.

“Look, Scully, it’s silly for you to avoid me like this. Just because things didn’t work out for us as a couple it doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly.”

She wants to tell him that yes, actually, that’s exactly what it means. It’s only been ten months. What does he think this is, a vacation? She knows where being friendly with him will lead. It will lead to a place she doesn’t have the willpower to say no to, and then they’d be in trouble all over again.

She can’t tell him the reason they can’t be friends; she’d be admitting a weakness. He’s left her without a choice. She suspects, as usual, the motherfucker knows exactly what he’s doing. A brief flash of annoyance comes over her and she grits her teeth.

One point to Mulder.

“You’re right,” she concedes.

“Okay, friend, so how’s work?" She can practically hear him grinning on the other side of the line. She gives in, because in spite of everything she does miss him.

“It’s fine. My hours have been pretty crazy, but it’s a good thing.” She doesn’t complete the thought, that it’s a good thing because she has less spare time to think about him. But he’s probably completed the thought without her. He tends to do that.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. My hours around here are completely nuts.”

She hears a basketball bounce across the room and pictures him in their living room, probably wearing jeans and a T shirt, laying on the couch. She’s sure he’d been spinning the ball and had just lost hold of it. The place is probably a disaster without her around. She can’t help but smile.

“So what have you been up to?”

“You really want to know?”

She really does. “I really do.”

“Well, believe it or not, I’m writing a book. I’ve been following your advice.”

She’s stunned. “That’s… fantastic. I’m glad to hear that, honestly.”

“Thanks. You’re in it, you know.”

“I… really?” She hadn’t much thought about it but of course she would be. How could she not be?

“Of course, how could you not be?”

“Can I read it?” The words are out of her mouth before she gives herself a chance to think this through.

“Sure, but I’m not finished. Actually I’d really appreciate your help, I don’t have access to our files so I’m doing it mostly from memory.”

“It’s not all about UFOs, is it?”

“Well, I’m not gonna lie to you Scully, they play a part. Does that surprise you?”

She sighs. “No, it doesn’t. I’m just… done with all of that, Mulder. UFOs, aliens, all of that stuff had a stranglehold on my very existence. I’d rather not revisit it.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Well, tell me how you really feel.”

“I’m sorry, that came out wrong.” She cannot get pulled back into his world. “You know what I mean.”

“Well, would it surprise you if I told you it’s mostly about us?”

Something stirs in her belly. It’s a feeling she knows well: Comfort. Familiarity.

Love.

She wants to push it away but it’s strong.

“You mean… you and me?”

“Yeah.”

She smiles and for a moment neither of them speak. It’s such a small thing, maybe even a silly thing, but it’s so meaningful to her. His life on the X Files in a book and it’s mostly about the two of them. She’s touched.

“Well, I’ll do what I can to help.”

She can't believe she’s essentially committed to helping Mulder write a book within five minutes of being on the phone with him. Between this and getting her to agree to a friendship she starts to believe the man truly is a dark wizard of some kind.

“Thanks, Scully. That’s… that’s big of you.” He says it genuinely, no sarcasm. For a moment they just sit quietly, together and apart, breathing on either end of the line. She wants to hang up almost as desperately as she doesn’t.

“Well, I should probably go.”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

“I’ve got some work to do.”

“Scully, I miss you.”

A knot forms in her stomach. The words are out now, and they can’t be taken back. She misses him too. She’d never want him to know how much, but he’s said it now. She doesn’t speak for a long time.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know.” He sounds sincere. He’s trying. She does appreciate his effort.

She can’t let this phone call take that kind of turn. She can’t get sucked back in. So she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She needs to let him go, now.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay. Bye.”

She clicks the phone off and sits at her kitchen table. It’s a small table, the smallest one she could find, but it’s still meant for two.

***

Scully goes to the mirror and cleans up the spots of blood on her neck from the surgery she’d been performing. She quickly removes her scrubs in the locker room and changes into her street clothes. She touches up her makeup and straightens her hair. It’s the quickest she’s ever had to prepare for anything resembling a date. Last but not least, she pulls out her black Jimmy Choos and slips them on, replacing them in her locker with the sneakers she’d been standing on for hours.

God, she could use a drink.

She’d tried to go out with other men over the last year or so. After nearly two years without Mulder she thought she might be ready. She’d made a solid effort to find someone who could fill the gaping hole she created when she removed him from her life. But it would always go the same way: some perfectly nice guy engaging her in some perfectly boring conversation which, in the end, could never be a substitute for what she and Mulder shared. Always just some guy who wasn’t Mulder.

She could accept no substitutes. There was no relief in a silhouette.

It won’t stop her from trying. She’ll be damned if she can’t beat this. She beat cancer, for God’s sake.

She exits the hospital and Tad O’Malley is waiting for her, holding the door open to his limousine. She smiles and allows him to help her inside. They sit down and he immediately pours two flutes of Dom Pérignon. She’s impressed, in spite of herself.

“So… tell me more about your work on the X Files, Dana. I’m extremely interested.”

Christ. She doesn’t want to disappoint him the second this thing begins so she decides to indulge him for a bit. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, how do you feel about all this? Do you believe in the paranormal?”

A memory stirs and she thinks of Mulder, young and eager, asking her basically the same question over twenty years ago. Why can’t she stop these memories from persisting?

“I was assigned to the X Files as a scientist, so I come at things from a more rational perspective. But over the years I’ve had… experiences that defy explanation.” She’s recited this mantra so many times she wants to laugh.

“What kinds of experiences?”

She’s not sure where to start. The truth is, the most amazing thing she experienced was Mulder. But she can’t tell him that, especially after the way she practically badmouthed him to Tad earlier. She feels a little bad about that now.

She digs up a couple stories to placate him, and after a few minutes they are chatting companionably, sipping champagne. It feels like the beginning of a nice date. Until:

“And what about Fox Mulder? Does he really believe in these things? He seems a little disillusioned. Not what I expected, actually.”

She hesitates, not sure where to take this. “And what did you expect, Mr. ‘O'Malley?”

“Please, call me Tad.”

“What did you expect, Tad?”

“From what I’ve heard, he’s… passionate, driven, dedicated. Earlier today he just seemed a little… lost. Standoffish.”

Scully tenses a bit. This is unexpected, something she hadn’t anticipated. “He’s... had a rough few years. It’s been rough for us both.”

She’s instantly uncomfortable, not sure how much she wants to reveal. Unfortunately she fears she’s given too much away already.

“So… you two were in a relationship.”

She looks at him. “Is this really what you’re trying to ask me? Because you could have just asked me, so we can move on.”

“I’m sorry, Dana. I didn’t know it was a sensitive subject.”

She doesn’t want him to know how rattled she is. “It’s fine. Mulder is just… whenever these sorts of things take hold of him, he goes somewhere that it’s very hard for him to come back from. I worry about the effect it has on his health, that’s all.”

He looks confused. “But you two are… not together anymore, right?”

She looks Tad directly in the eye. “He’s been my whole world for the better part of two decades. I’ll always worry about him, whether we’re together or not.”

He looks a little chagrined. “I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to denigrate anything. Just trying to figure out where I stand here, is all,” he grins.

She smiles at him. Tad isn’t a bad guy, and he’s nice. He’s good looking, and charming. He’s a fucking Republican, it would never work for the two of them in any long term sense, but maybe just for tonight he could make her forget about everything else.

She tries to imagine what it would be like to wrap her legs around his face but as usual these thoughts always morph into Mulder being there instead. She flushes at a thousand memories that leap to her mind, and one very specific memory of the two of them in a limousine very much like this one.

“Do you need me to turn the air conditioning on? You look warm,” Tad offers.

She looks away towards the tinted glass. “I’m fine,” she replies.

Dana Scully is always fine.

MULDER

(S10/ post-Babylon)

Living without her has been nearly impossible. Actually impossible.

More than impossible.

As with most impossible occurrences in his life, Mulder has been forced to believe it, and motivated to search for the answer. He doesn’t have her with him this time, so it will be harder.

Waiting until he’d surfaced from his depression to leave him was such a Scully thing to do, it brought him comfort in a strange way. He knew she’d worry about him, and she was careful to leave him a lifeline. Her colleague had been courteous, punctual, and efficient, just like Scully always was, and he felt so guilty for hurting her enough to make her leave that he’d done everything the doctor asked of him to keep Scully’s mind at ease.

He didn't want to add to her pain. He hadn’t wanted to be the cause of it in the first place. He hadn't wanted to become the burden he’d so desperately desired her to be rid of.

It was strange… taking the meds and doing what he was supposed to do to get healthy was easier after she left, not harder. He wanted to be better. His only goal in mind was to make everything okay again, to get her to come back to him. It was all he thought about every day. It consumed his waking mind.

How do I make this right? What can I do to deserve her?

It wasn’t a new thought; it was something he’d thought about many times in the past. He’d never truly felt worthy of her and she finally told him with her actions he hadn’t been.

When she told him how she’d felt that night in his jail cell he felt something awaken inside him; something he’d known for a long time but hadn’t allowed himself to truly feel: he needed to earn her. Even though he’d allowed himself to be with her, to love her and let her love him, he knew he had work to do. He'd allowed his obsession to take hold of him in a way that should only have been reserved for her.

He doesn't fully understand this yet, but he's trying to. He will try as long as it takes, until he gets this right. Until he gets her back.

***

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Scully laments as they drive towards the airport, the scruffy little dog in a cage in the backseat. “My building manager is never going to let me keep him.”

“Why’d you take him, then?” Mulder isn’t angry, or annoyed. Just curious.

“I don’t know, his name is Daggoo. It’s like he was meant for me. I couldn’t just leave him there all alone.”

They’ve been back on the X Files for a few months now and Mulder feels a sense of relief that things are starting to feel somewhat normal again. Well, as normal as things can be when the woman you love isn’t in love with you anymore, but is working with you; isn’t living with you, but is still married to you. That kind of normal.

He should be used to that kind of normal by now.

At least they’ve fallen back into the work as if they’d never left. He’s been needing something to focus on, and when Skinner asked them both back he didn’t hesitate. Scully didn’t either, though for understandably different reasons.

Getting officially reinstated into the Bureau was not the ordeal Mulder had feared it might be. A couple signatures here, some training courses they’d had to retake there, and they were officially FBI agents again. It was strange after having been on the run from this very organization for so long to be back in its midst, being given the trust he thought he’d lost so many years ago. He’s hardly certain he wants to give them his own trust again. But he feels content; back where he belongs. It’s nice to be Agent Mulder once more.

It was awkward when he had to disclose their marriage to the Bureau, however. The FBI doesn’t have an official policy stating partnered agents couldn’t be married, but Mulder was forced to admit they weren’t together anymore even though they hadn’t signed any dissolution documents. Skinner seemed genuinely disappointed by this turn of events, which Mulder found somewhat comforting.

He was a little ashamed that he was still susceptible to the pull of his obsession, however, and was worried that all that Sveta stuff had rubbed Scully the wrong way. But he knew Scully understood that there was something going on that was important, perhaps even important enough to put aside their differences and work together on the X Files as they always had to find a common goal; to search for a common truth.

He isn't sure yet if they share another common goal, which is finding their way back to one another. He feels as if this reassignment to the X Files was somehow fated; that it means something, not only for the X Files but for the two of them. He can only hope she can find it in herself to feel the same way.

Now they are driving in their rental car with a couple suitcases and a dog, like a family headed home from vacation. And apparently this dog is not going to have a home when they get back.

Scully’s hand is on her brow, looking sadly out the window. The sight of her in this state makes Mulder react more quickly than he expects.

“I’ll keep him,” he offers.

She looks at him, upset, and shakes her head. “Oh please, Mulder. You hate dogs.”

“I do not hate dogs,” he responds, somewhat affronted.

“You never wanted one when we were together.”

“There were a lot of things I didn’t do when we were together,” he says, turning his head to look at her.

She stares at him with her hands in her lap. He’s noticed this lately, she keeps her hands very close to her body most of the time, as if she can’t trust them around him.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says quietly. “I’ll find someone to take him.”

For a moment he decides to maybe just let her find someone else. He doesn’t really want a dog, he’s just trying to be helpful. He just wants that sad look on her face to go away. If it were anyone else he’d never have said a thing. But then he realizes what this could mean for them. If he takes her dog, and she allows him to, that could be a sign that she’s open to seeing him socially. If she wants to see the dog, she has to see him. It would be worth all the hair and the drool and the shit to get to see her at all.

He’s decided. He’s the one who’s going to take her dog, dammit.

“He’s going to live with me, Scully.”

She lifts her head up, wearily. “Are you really serious? Can you even care for a dog?”

“Scully, I had a dog once. I think. Plus we have- I have that big yard. He’s going to love it.”

He can tell she’s in already, but she’s faking mulling it over. He just keeps on driving because he knows she won’t say no.

“Okay.” She smiles at him. “Maybe this will be good for you. Dogs are great company.”

“I know you worry about me all alone in our little house,” he points out. He doesn’t correct himself and neither does she. It is their house. Both their names are still on the deed.

“You never cease to amaze me, Mulder.”

***

Daggoo has been great company, and no one is more pleasantly surprised than Mulder. The dog is perfect. He listens, is housebroken, and he doesn’t even shed. It’s as if he’s Scully in canine form.

Maybe that’s why Mulder loves him already.

“Daggoo! Here, boy!” He takes the dog out into the front yard and throws a tennis ball for him. It’s hard to do this on the weekdays, but weekends have become surprisingly filled with Daggoo-related activities. It’s nice to have something to put his energy into that isn’t self-destructive.

Weeks have passed and the two of them have fallen into a comfortable routine. They wake up together, Mulder lets him into the yard and feeds him, and just before he leaves for work Daggoo climbs the stairs and snuggles into Scully’s old side of the bed, napping for most of the day. It’s where he spends most of the day, most every day. Mulder never showed him where to sleep; the dog decided this was his place. The symbolism is not lost on him.

Mulder’s plan has worked; Scully visits at least once a week. For the first few weeks she focused on the dog, bringing food and treats and toys, maybe out of obligation or guilt that she’d saddled Mulder with this animal. But after a few weeks her focus is back on him. Some days he will sit out on the porch and see a familiar SUV pull up without any warning, Daggoo fast asleep upstairs. She doesn’t ask about the dog. Those are the visits he lives for; when she arrives for him.

They are slowly becoming friends again, partners again, and definitely not out of obligation. She wants to be there. Daggoo has become a buffer, an excuse for her to come visit, and he’s grateful for it.

“So it looks like you two have been getting along nicely?” Scully asks one day as they sit on the porch together, Daggoo running around the yard.

"Yeah, I guess I’m a dog person after all.”

“You see?” She smiles. “You look good, Mulder. You look really good. I’m glad.”

He grins at her, relaxed and happy. “I feel good.”

“How are you doing with your meds?”

“Stopped. Two weeks ago.”

She’s quiet and looks at him. “Are you sure that’s the wisest course?”

“I’m doing okay, Scully. I feel like I’ve found my way again. I haven’t felt this good in years.”

She looks genuinely happy, and tilts her head a bit. “I’m glad to hear that, really.”

He looks her right in the eye and says it. “I’m doing it for you, you know.”

She looks away, uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter. He will not give up, not ever.

She gazes out across the yard at Daggoo, jumping and biting at flying bugs. “He doesn’t try to run away?” she asks idly.

Mulder hasn’t moved his eyes from her face. “No. I think he might like it here.”

She finally looks back at him. “Dogs are simple creatures, with simple needs. I’m sure you can give him everything he could possibly want.”

“I guess so. He’s stuck around so far.”

This is what they do. This is how they operate. Dancing around a topic they need to discuss but cannot get down to it. He’s used to it, frustrated by it, but he can’t push her now. This needs to be on her timetable.

She holds all the cards. He only has a dog.

“I’m glad he seems to be happy here. I really appreciate you giving him a home.”

Mulder nods. “Anytime.”

Hours later, after she’s been gone for awhile, Mulder lays in bed and thinks about her. He does this every night, every night since she left. He imagines her laying next to him the way she used to, and he can almost sense her presence until Daggoo hops up onto the bed and reminds him she is gone.

The dog nestles into his side and falls asleep more promptly than any sentient being should be able to. Mulder scratches Daggoo’s head and tries to remember a time when he wasn’t so lonely, a time when she needed him the way this dog does. A time when he should have taken better care.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes. He’s on a mission. He’s going to make her see she needs him again too.

***

So much has happened and yet nothing has happened. Maggie Scully passed away, and Scully had asked him to go the funeral with her, but the sadness of the event had weighed upon them both far too much for him to consider any improvement in their relationship.

He’d been close to Maggie, especially since he and Scully married. It was an unforeseen side effect of marriage he enjoyed immensely: gaining back a family.

A large chunk of time had passed where they hadn't spoken to any of the Scullys while they were in hiding, and it’s one more thing Mulder can’t help but feel guilty about. She’d given up seeing her own family so that she could be his.

William’s adoption had been the last straw for Bill Jr., however. They’d seen Bill and his family once since they got married. As usual, he blamed Mulder for his family’s misfortune and as usual, Mulder took it to heart. He couldn’t deny responsibility even when Scully defended him. Bill Jr. and his family had been stationed in Germany years ago and he and Scully had kept their distance.

Maggie, however, had always cared for him like her own son, like he suspected a mother is supposed to. And he cared for her. After they’d come out of hiding she’d become his family too, and he loved having a real family again.

Now that she’s gone, it should be another reason for Scully to bring her walls down. But she hasn’t. She lets him support her however he can, but he can’t help but wonder if it’s only because she has no choice: he’s literally all she has left now.

He hates to see Scully hurting, especially when they are in this state of limbo, where he doesn’t know how to comfort her. He doesn’t know the right way. He will do anything and everything she needs, as long as she’s willing to tell him what that is.

The only thing he feels comfortable doing is listening, and holding her. She allows him to. So it’s what he does.

***

The months go by comfortably, although he can’t help but notice the time passing. Every time he and Scully see each other, be it at work or when she visits Daggoo, they fall more and more back into the way they used to be. At least, the way they used to be before Scully came into his bedroom that night and changed both their worlds forever. It’s hard for him to believe something so meaningful that took so long to happen could be undone so easily.

Being here again in this place, however, feels like a step backward this time rather than merely an interim because he knows their potential. He knows how great they can be when they are everything to each other.

He wants to get back there, desperately. But for now, he can only be content with their friendship. They’re spending most of their time together nowadays, and he can’t complain. It feels like old times, whether they are in the field chasing after a Band-Aid Nose man or strolling quietly around the house discussing heavenly trumpets. It feels like everything is settling down.

“What are you up to tonight, Scully?” he asks as he puts some files into their office cabinet and closes it, another long work day over. They’d spent the past three evenings together and he was hoping to make it four.

“I think I’m going to head back to my place tonight, Mulder. I’ve got some things to take care of.”

He tries not to be disappointed, but he has a sneaking suspicion she wants to keep some distance between them. He can’t decide if she’s just sick of him, or if she’s keeping some kind of arbitrary boundary. He doesn’t think they are quite in a place where they’d be in danger of crossing some physical line, but he’s not in her head.

Her feet are up on the desk and she’s perusing some autopsy photos from earlier that day. She tilts her head up and grabs the side of her neck, stretching it. Hearing her wince in pain, Mulder seizes an opportunity.

“Let me get that.”

Before she can protest, his hands are on her shoulders, kneading them the same way he would when she’d arrive home from a long day at the hospital. She puts her feet and her photos down but doesn’t try to stop him. He knows she won’t make him stop. A bath and a neck massage are the two indulgences even a Flukeman couldn’t get in her way of.

She breathes deeply and allows him to make her feel better. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He knows they’re both actively trying not to think about where such an activity would typically lead them. Considering they haven’t said a thing regarding the status of their relationship, the concern seems to be unjustified, at least for the moment.

As he kneads the tension out of her shoulders he feels her relaxing. It’s been so long, so long since he’s been able to touch her like this and he misses it so much. He misses her so much.

“That feel okay?” he asks.

Her eyes are closed and she hums a bit. “No, you’re terrible at this.”

“You realize it’s a serious crime to lie to an FBI agent.”

“Okay, it’s wonderful. Thank you.”

He doesn’t want to say anything, he wants to just enjoy what’s happening but he can’t help himself.

“How do you like living alone?”

She doesn’t respond for a moment. “It’s been fine.”

Of course she’d say that. She’s always fine.

“I haven’t thought it was fine. Not for a long time. But having Daggoo around has been really nice.”

“I’m really glad that worked out.”

He can sense she’s not going to offer much, but he can also sense she’s open to hearing what he has to say, so he goes on. “It’s kind of like having you around again. He’s clean, and he likes to cuddle.”

“He’s like me? Does that mean he bites?”

“No. He kisses me when I get home from work, though.”

He isn’t sure how long they can continue this particular round of bantering before crossing into awkward territory. But then she does something he is not expecting. She reaches up to her shoulder and puts her hand over his. She pulls his hand into her cheek and slightly tilts her head into it.

“I’ll bet he'd never leave you.”

His heart stops. He knows it’s not possible but it feels that way. He can’t see her face, so he just looks at the back of her head. He squeezes her hand.

“He doesn’t have a reason to.”

They stay that way for what feels like a long time but is probably only a few seconds. Time always seems to slow down when clarity comes to the forefront.

She squeezes his hand back and then the moment is over. She stands and heads towards the door to get her jacket.

“Thanks for the back rub, Mulder. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gives him a gentle smile, her eyes not hiding the sadness there.

“See you.”

She heads out the door and he just stands there, not moving an inch until he hears the elevator door closing.

***

He turns his key in the lock and enters the darkness of the house. The usual clattering of doggy nails doesn’t reach his ears and he instantly feels a sharp jolt of fear.

“Daggoo? Here, boy!”

Nothing.

Mulder’s long work hours required him to leave a doggy door for Daggoo to go out and do his business, but the dog always returned. He had never gotten around to building a fence because he’d simply never felt the need.

He goes from room to room, searching, but Daggoo is nowhere to be found. He goes upstairs to see his usual spot on the bed, a tiny indentation against Scully’s pillow.

Vacant. For the second time.

The sight of it brings him to the floor. He weeps for his lost friend but mostly for what his disappearance represents.

***

He must have fallen asleep because he wakes to Scully’s hand on his shoulder.

“Mulder? Mulder, it’s me.”

He opens his eyes and it’s still dark. She’s still in her work clothes.

“Scully? What are you doing here?”

“I… I changed my mind. I didn’t want to be alone after all.”

He smiles, then remembers Daggoo. How is he going to tell her?

“What’s wrong, Mulder? Why are you asleep on the floor?”

He can only pull her into a hug. She lets him and they sit together on the floor.

“I- I lost Daggoo.”

“Oh, Mulder,” she says, and just lets him hold her. “I’m so sorry.”

This entire thing is so confusing. Daggoo is his dog, but also hers. They share the burden, as always. But the walls won’t come down. The goddamn walls won’t come down. Someone has to start removing bricks.

“I don't know what I'm doing, Scully. I don't know how to do this. I miss you so much,” he cries into her shoulder. “This is so hard, I just wish you could feel what I’m feeling.”

Her arms go around him and she holds him close. After a moment she responds. “I miss you too, Mulder. I do.” Like any time she sees him break down, he knows she is crying now too. “Please don’t be upset. I’m here, okay? I’m right here.”

Her hands go to the back of his neck and she brings his forehead to hers. It’s a start, a real start, the way they have always started.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you for coming.”

She kisses his forehead and squeezes him tightly again. Something has changed, something has shifted. Daggoo may be gone, but Scully is here, and for now, that’s enough.

Thanks for reading! I’ll be posting a story about what happened to Daggoo later today :)

#txf #msr #msr fanfic #post breakup #daggoo #culmination #idiots in love #things will get better soon

6 notes · View notes

frozen-delight · 6 years

Text

The Vessel Issue, Take Two

Last week’s episode made me puzzle over Nick’s completely unbelievable survival. That seems almost quaint now compared to the central topic of the latest SPN episode: the human consent to angelic possession.

In what has to be the most Cas-centric episode since S6, Cas showed himself at his very worst: lying, manipulative, passive-aggressive, completely lacking in self-awareness as well as in awareness of what his words and actions did to those around him.

While Mary, Bobby and Sam went to check out Jo’s lead on Michael, Cas was left in charge of Nick and Jack - both of whom very quickly fled from the bunker as well, driven away by Cas’s hypocritical advice and admonishments.

Jack, thankfully, is already more mature than his angelic would-be father figure, so the exposure to Cas’ drivel (including a rather startling moment of white-washing John Winchester’s atrocious parenting) didn’t do him any lasting harm.

Nick, on the other hand, went out and murdered his old neighbour in cold blood, an action that makes a surprising amount of sense once one considers his interactions with Cas in detail.

During their first scene together, Cas can’t bring himself to look at Nick.

“You don’t remember all the things you did in his thrall, but I do,” he explains to Nick.

Apparently, his memory of Lucifer’s bad deeds is considerably more detailed than that of his own, or he wouldn’t be able to look anyone else in the face, ever. Mass murder, torture, megalomania - there’s very little that Lucifer has done that Cas isn’t guilty of himself. (And, incidentally, Jimmy Novak didn’t say yes to any of it when he consented to being possessed by Cas.)

Nick doesn’t remember why he said ‘yes’ to Lucifer, so Cas tells him, “You were in a lot of pain. And Lucifer saw a vulnerability and he exploited it.”

He conveniently forgets to add that Lucifer employed psychological torture tactics to make Nick consent to his possession - making him hear voices, doing everything to drive him out of his mind.

Of course, acknowledging this would force Cas to admit that the human consent to angelic possession is nothing more than a formality, which can be obtained in any number of ways, including torture, manipulation and deceit. That even children, who are clearly incapable of giving any kind of informed consent, can be possessed by angels. Something which Castiel himself has done when he possessed Claire.

Nick then learns that the person who murdered his wife and child was never caught.

NICK You know what a cold case is, Castiel? It’s a case too unimportant for anyone to care about. My wife and son are dead - gone forever. [...]

CAS Well, I’m sorry. That sounds difficult. [...] Nick, you on the other hand, you’ve been given a second chance. You’re not dead.

NICK You don’t understand.

CAS No, I do.

NICK Oh, because your body was stolen?

CAS Because I’m occupying someone else’s. All angels have to in order to walk the earth. This - this was Jimmy Novak.

NICK “Occupy”. Sounds like a cleaned-up way of saying “steal”. And, um, Jimmy - is that his name? He all right with that?

CAS Yes, he was.

NICK “Was”?

CAS Jimmy’s dead.

NICK Castiel, you’re just a stone-cold body snatcher. You’re no different than Lucifer.

CAS I need to look in on Jack. You know in all my thousands of years, what happened to Jimmy Novak and his family, it’s my greatest regret.

Cas is completely unable to show any kind of empathy towards Nick, too caught up in justifying his own actions; and the lesson that Nick learns from that is that he can’t expect any sympathy or understanding, because vessels don’t matter, unless of course they happen to be Castiel’s best friend.

Which is why after telling Nick that vessels don’t matter, because angels need to walk the earth, bigger picture etc, Cas then gets into an argument with Jack who thinks that it’s more important to kill Michael than to save Dean. Ignoring the fact that the whole discussion is moot since they don’t have a way of killing Michael, I think Jack is completely right in assuming that Dean would agree with him that stopping Michael takes priority over his life.

If Nick or Jimmy’s life were on the line, Cas would side with him too. Hell, only last week he threatened wannabe Crowley, “I will burn you to ash,” showing zero concern for whatever poor man the demon was possessing.

And unlike Dean, who has always shown awareness of their inconsistency regarding the vessel issue, Cas is completely blind to his own hypocrisy.

But back to Nick. He was at his lowest when Lucifer came to him, and now he’s at his lowest once again, desperately clutching at straws, looking for something, anything to hold on to, and Cas gives him nothing except for self-righteous excuses.

It reminded me of the case in Mr Holmes where Holmes thinks he’s answered the lady’s question to her satisfaction, and she then goes and throws herself in front of a train.

Of course Nick doesn’t know that Cas lured Jimmy to say ‘yes’ to him with a bunch of false promises, and that it left Jimmy completely disillusioned about God, heaven and the angels, and that once he was free, the last thing he wanted was to ever be possessed again. He doesn’t know that after making sure Jimmy, his wife and his daughter were traumatised for life, Cas possessed Claire and essentially held her hostage to force Jimmy to consent to being possessed once again. He doesn’t know that Jimmy was slowly bleeding to death, that Cas didn’t lift a finger to heal him, instead threatening him with the horrors that lay in store for his daughter, until Jimmy was begging him to take him just to save Claire.

Neither does he know that despite his professed “regret”, Cas has ignored the dispair of Jimmy’s family for years, and hasn’t mentioned Claire once since shipping her off to Jody’s, never mind contacting her or trying to actively support her.

But he must have picked up on the obvious discrepancy between Cas’s “Yes, he was” and “What happened to Jimmy Novak and his family, it’s my greatest regret.” Because why the regret if Jimmy was okay with the possession? Nick would have noticed that didn’t add up.

And he would have realised that there could never be any justice for him or his family in a world where he was treated like a bad guy, and where someone like Castiel considered himself one of the good guys. In a world where guys like Cas play God and decide who matters and who doesn’t.

I don’t doubt that the following episodes will put Nick’s ensuing murder down to Lucifer’s lasting influence on him, but for me at least that won’t erase the powerful impression of a traumatised possession victim lashing out against the unfairness of the SPN universes’ treatment of human vessels.

#supernatural #season 14 spoilers #spn 14x02 #claire novak #jimmy novak #lucifer #castiel #metaish thoughts #potentially unpopular opinion #sorry for the rant

43 notes · View notes

ecchima · 7 years

Text

Unexpected Meeting on Peace Avenue -Chap 2

Summary: After a bank robbery gone wrong, Jesse left the Deadlock gang and ran as far away as he could, using what little money he had. With no real destination in mind, he arrived at San Francisco, a city he knows nothing about. With only two dollars and ten cents, he just hopes he’ll manage to survive and that neither the police nor the Deadlock gang will catch him.

Meanwhile, Hanzo arrived at San Francisco at the end of August with the order to lose his strong Japanese accent while studying at the University. He’s barely gotten out and honestly doesn’t want to… Until he gets a crush on a lonely cowboy.

Words: 3,7k Rating: T Warning: none for this chapter AO3

Chapter 1

Rolling in the dew is what keeps shepherds pretty

The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting the first lights of the day when Jesse wakes up. He groans and hides his head in Hanzo’s oversized coat, not ready to get up and face the day just yet… Only to stick his head right back out because of the smell. It must have been roughly a week since he took his last shower and, frankly, he stinks.

Wondering where the hell he’s gonna be able to find a working shower and some soap, Jesse sits. He scratches absently at the small circular indents on his cheek: leftover from the bench he's been sleeping on since arriving. Then, he looks up at the time on the digital clock announcing the next bus and sighs. It’s 7am, the walk to Peace Avenue from here would take him approximatively an hour and a half so he’ll miss most of the morning rush. He could probably find some coffee at the bus stops around the Avenue, their owners leaving them there since drinks are forbidden on public transports but he decides to explore the city instead.

It's been four days since he met Hanzo; the man never came back, not that Jesse's surprised by the fact. So instead of sitting there waiting for a stranger who might never come back, he decided to explore between rush hours, when there are less people in the streets. So far, he’s found five places where he can eat free food, the owners preferring to give it away instead of discarding it at the end of the day. Most of those places are sushi shops though, and while Jesse isn’t against raw fish –especially since he doesn’t have to pay or steal it- he misses meat.

After walking for half an hour, Jesse stops in front of the Asian Art Museum. There's only a bunch of tourists there, waiting for the museum to open, but what piques Jesse’s interest are the bins. They seem clean and where there are tourists you can usually find maps.

With little thought towards his dignity, Jesse starts digging into the bins. The first one is sticky from a half finished cup of soda, leaving his fingers gross. The second one is empty except for a few vouchers and tickets, the third and fourth ones smell like something died inside but it’s within the fifth bin that Jesse strikes gold. First, he finds a box of donuts that’s still warm from the shop and when he opens it, only two are missing. Then, he finds a couple of unused bus tickets, a banana someone threw out because it started to get brown, and a map.

Looking up, Jesse thanks whatever good star is responsible for his fortune before he finds a corner to sit and eat his makeshift breakfast. After eating half the donuts in the box, he has to agree with whoever threw it out: they are pretty disgusting. He sighs, debating whether or not he should finish the box when a girl approaches him.

“Hello, I saw you take the box of donuts my friend threw away earlier,” she says with a heavy accent Jesse can’t really place. “They’re too sweet and the flavor is kinda weird? So I bought you a bottle of water.”

Jesse takes the bottle she’s holding out to him and removes his hat off to place it over his heart. “Thank you kindly lil’ miss.”

“You’re welcome,” she giggles before trotting back to the group of tourists waiting at the top of the stairs.

After several big gulps of water, Jesse finishes his breakfast happily before looking at the map. There aren’t too many indications on it unless you’re looking for a museum or other touristy places, but at least he knows where he is. Making sure he’s reading the map right,

Jesse stands and goes back to the bin to throw away the empty box and the banana peel. He isn’t too far from Japan Town so he decides to head there to investigate.

It’s a beautiful day, still cold and windy but beautiful nonetheless. There aren’t many tourists or tour buses in the street but the museum doesn’t open for approximately two hours. He decides to take a shortcut through a park and is stunned to find flowers blooming under the trees. Hellebores, primroses and pansies, according to the name tags.

When he finally arrives, Jesse decides to circle the neighborhood before exploring it’s heart. He can see some sort of weird tower: cylindrical, with five roof and what looks like a big antenna of some sort at the top. If one of the shops sells food, he might be able to scavenge some things from the garbage containers.

He’s about to turn at a corner when Jesse spots a weird door with red columns on each side, like in those Japanese temples you see on pictures. Curious, he comes closer to read the signs before realizing that they’re all written in Japanese. Only the name of the establishment and the opening times seem to have been translated.

“Jesse?” Someone calls, making him jump. He turns slowly, only to see-

“Howdy, Hanzo!” Jesse grins.

“What are you doing here?” The other asks, puzzled.

“I’m explorin’! I found this map this mornin’ an’ I saw I wasn’t too far from here so I decided to take a look around. What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, what are you doin’ ‘round these parts?”

“Oh, the owner of this establishment lets me use the baths before it opens. I do not have class on Tuesday mornings so I come here.” Hanzo explains, scrutinizing him.

Jesse squirms under the other’s gaze, he doesn’t know how dirty he looks but he knows how badly he smells. He’s about to make out an excuse and run away when Hanzo surprises him once more.

“Perhaps you could,” he starts, sounding unsure. “Come with me ?”

“With you?” Jesse asks, looking back at him.

“Yes.”

“It’s not that I don’t like you, Hanzo but we barely know each other an’ while I know I need to take a bath, I really do but-” He tries, embarrassed and blushing violently.

“But?”

Jesse takes a deep breath, “I’m not that kind of guy.”

Hanzo frowns, confused. “You are not the kind of man to take a bath?”

“No! I mean, yes! I love baths, they ain’t the problem!”

“What is it then?”

“That’s too intimate!” Jesse finally blurts out. He’s never been so embarrassed in his whole life.

“I do not understand, these springs are spacious. We do not have to stay close to each other.”

Jesse hides his face in his hands. “But we have to be naked…” What if I get a boner? He doesn’t say.

Hanzo lets out a soft, “Oh” and when Jesse looks up, he can see the other’s cheeks getting pink.

“If it troubles you so much, perhaps we could avoid facing each other...”

Jesse hesitates, he really doesn’t want to share a bath with a stranger but… Hanzo doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to take advantage of someone else. He’s paid for his dinner, even given Jesse his own coat. Surely, Jesse can trust him to respect his privacy.

“You promise you won’t look?” He asks anyway, just to make sure.

Hanzo blushes but looks sincere when he promises not to look at him. They stand there in awkward silence for a moment then Hanzo opens the door before holding it for Jesse, just like he had at the restaurant.

The inside doesn’t look very traditional like Jesse had thought it would. There’s a modern reception desk and two entryway without doors, just a cloth partially covering the top adorned with Japanese symbols. Not knowing which way to go, he lets Hanzo lead them to the door on the left and takes off his boots when the other instructs him to do so. Beyond the door, there are two rows of lockers that look like the ones they used at the pool, back in Santa Fe, when Jimmy took them there one summer.

“This is where we undress. Make sure to only keep your towel with you.” Hanzo says, turning his back to Jesse.

“And what if I don’t have a towel?” He asks, opening one of the lockers.

Hanzo doesn’t answer so Jesse thinks he’ll just have to do without one. He starts undressing, taking care to fold his coat as neatly as possible. He stops when he notices the other is now beside him.

“You do not have a bag, have you?” The man asks, his eyes not leaving Jesse’s face.

“Uhhh… No?”

“And you did not have a coat either.” Hanzo continues, a slight frown forming on his face.

Jesse freezes. He can feel his heartbeat drumming in his ears as he glances back and forth between Hanzo and the door. Should he flee? Is the other going to call the police to arrest him?

“Jesse, I do not know what scares you but I only wish to help you.” Hanzo says, lightly touching the other’s shoulder, making him jump.

“Why?” He croaks, “Why do you want to help me? There are plenty of homeless dudes out there.”

A slight blush appears on Hanzo’s cheeks, “I do not know.”

Jesse frowns, he can recognize a lie when he hears one.

“Does it really matter though? Is the fact I wish to help not enough in itself?”

“How am I supposed to trust you if I don’t know your motivations?”

Jesse immediately regrets voicing his distress when he sees how hurt Hanzo looks. He wants to apologize but it’s true: he doesn’t trust Hanzo, not entirely. He blinks, trying –and failing- to find a solution but the hurt look is gone, replaced by the best poker face Jesse has ever seen.

“You are right not to trust me, a stranger you met only four days ago. It is only wise.” Hanzo’s voice is so cold, Jesse almost shivers from the tone. “However, I am a man of honor and I give you my word: I only wish to help.”

Silence settles again between them until a small and uncertain smile appears on Hanzo’s face.

“Will you let me help you, Jesse?”

He doesn’t have to think for long. He might not trust Hanzo, but he does need help, and so few people are willing to provide it these days…

“Yeah,” he answers so softly, it’s almost a whisper.

Hanzo’s expression grows warmer. “Thank you,” he says before turning away once more. “I will ask my roommate to bring you the clothes I can no longer wear.”

“Thanks…”

“I forgot to mention this establishment lends towels.”

“What?” Jesse turns to face him, realizing too late that Hanzo had resumed undressing himself and is now shirtless. Feeling a blush creeping onto his face, Jesse quickly spins back.

“You may borrow one of the towels on your right.”

“And you tell me that after making me stress the hell out over it?”

He hears Hanzo chuckle at that and can’t help but grin. This guy really is something.

In the next room, there is only one huge bath of steaming water and several shower heads lining the walls. A huge representation of the well-known Kurosawa wave decorates the wall above the bath where a few stones reproduces the look of a natural hot spring.

Jesse whistles, “That’s the prettiest bath I’ve ever seen!” He exclaims, “But why are there showers?”

Despite his promise not to face Jesse earlier, Hanzo spins to look at him in the eyes. He’s scrunching his nose to make a sort of disgusted face that just makes Jesse want to laugh.

“It is -what do you Americans say?”

“Highfalutin’?” He watches Hanzo’s expression shift to incomprehension and continues with a smirk. “It’s plumb makin’ the place fetchin’ if I do say so myself.” Messing with Hanzo might

not be very nice considering everything he’s doing for him but it’s all worth it when the other’s face scrunches up in confusion.

“The place… Fetching? No, I am looking for a synonym of dirty.”

“… Gross?”

“Yes,” Hanzo says, regaining his composure. “It is ‘gross’ not to wash yourself before taking a bath.”

“What? But why take a shower if you’re gonna wash yourself in the bath too?”

“Because,” Hanzo turns his back to Jesse and sits on one of the wooden stools. “The bath is not for washing, it is a way of relaxation.”

“…I still don’t get it.”

“Would you enjoy bathing in not only your own, but everyone else’s filth?”

Jesse thinks for a moment, judging by the size of the bath and the number of lockers, there can be up to at least a hundred people in the bath at the same time. If they were all as dirty as he is now, he sure as hell wouldn’t appreciate to stay in there. A sudden flashback of a naked Rodriguez pops in his mind and he physically cringes. Even if the man was clean and he was being paid for it, Jesse wouldn’t share a bath with that pig.

Feeling dirtier just thinking about it, he sits on a stool and turns the shower on. He waits for the water to heat up a bit before angling the spray over his head and sighs when the warm droplets hits him. The shower feels divine but actually washing himself with soap and shampoo feels even better.

He’s still scrubbing his skin as hard as he can when he hears Hanzo walking towards the bath, his feet producing a small wet sound. He waits to hear the telltale splash of a body entering in contact with water before glancing at the other. Hanzo, true to his words, has his back facing Jesse’s direction, his long hair elegantly tied in a bun.

“Why didn’t you wash your hair?” He asks, cleaning under his nails now that he’s done with the rest of his body.

“I never wash it here.”

“Why?”

“I told you, bathing is more about relaxation than cleaning.”

Jesse shrugs and rinses himself before joining Hanzo in the bath. The water isn’t as hot as he was expecting it to be, making it easy for him to enter. Careful not to sit too close to Hanzo for his own comfort or too far away -which would be a bit rude- he finally settles down and allows himself to relax, letting out a deep sigh.

“Be careful not to fall asleep.” Hanzo says, amusement clear in his voice.

“I won’t, I woke up only a few hours ago.”

There is a pause then, just long enough to be slightly uncomfortable.

“Jesse… May I ask you something a bit embarrassing?”

“Hanzo, we’re already sharing a bath and you’ve seen me panhandling and dirty before. I don’t really think you can embarrass me with a simple question right now.”

“Did you eat recently?”

“Yeah… I did.”

“And today?”

Jesse sighs, if Hanzo really wants to know, there’s no harm telling him, right?

“I found a box of donuts and a banana in a bin near a museum. Someone gave me a bottle of water. I also found a couple of places where I can get free food if they didn’t sell everythin’. I know you’re tryin’ to help and I’m real grateful for that but I don’t want to weigh you down either, y’know? I’m gonna be 17 in a couple of months, I’m a big guy.”

“It is not a matter of age, Jesse. I am simply concerned about you.” Hanzo answers, sounding mildly annoyed.

“Why didn’t you visit me on Peace Avenue then?” He snaps back, irritation clear in his voice.

“I did. Last Sunday, around 4pm. You were not where we first met so I kept walking down the Avenue, then back up on the other side. I did not find you so I called a taxi and left.”

“Oh… Yeah, I decided to start explorin’ the city. There are less people passin’ in the afternoon an’ I thought, since you’re going to uni, you wouldn’t have the time to come then.” Jesse explains, a bit ashamed of his behavior towards the other.

Hanzo sighs, “We could agree on a specific hour and place to meet to avoid this kind of situation.”

“This sounds like a date,” Jesse laughs. “But yeah, let’s do that!”

They spend the rest of their bath talking about times and places where they could easily meet. They agree on the Asian Museum of Art, the Peace Pagoda –which Jesse keeps calling “the weird tower thing”, Union Square and the Aquarium on Pier 39. Hanzo tells him about his time table at uni, how much time he needs to work on his assignments and when he has to practice archery which leads to Jesse bragging about his high score on the old shooting game he used to play at the arcade.

Hanzo chuckles and gets out of the bath. “You sound like my younger brother.”

“You have a brother?” Jesse gapes. “What is he like?”

His companion pauses, probably considering his choices. After a while, he answers a simple “green” and tells Jesse he can get out of the bath as well.

Green? Does that mean his brother is some kind of hippy? He thinks, then stops in his tracks. Hanzo has high cheekbones, long silky hair, he practices archery and the other night he put a lot of effort into eating his burger elegantly. Would that make him an elf of some kind? Are they all elves?

After drying himself, Jesse goes back to the locker room and pauses when he hears Hanzo talk with someone. Unsure whether he should listen in on their conversation or make his presence known, he just waits there, frozen in place and out of hearing range… Until he sneezes.

So much for discretion. He thinks bitterly, adjusting the towel around his waist and entering the locker room.

On the other side, there’s a rather tall guy with six little dots on his forehead and a streak of red makeup under his eyes. His skin is slightly darker than Jesse’s and his hair looks like it’s been shaved in the past month but is growing back out.

“Hello, you must be Jesse.” The man says with a weird wave of his hand that reminds him of Baymax, the big marshmallow looking robot from that animated movie he had wanted to watch so badly a few years ago. “My name is Zenyatta Tekhartha, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Jesse reaches above his head, mimicking tipping his hat. “Name’s Jesse, nice to meetcha,” he drawls. “But you already knew that, apparently.”

“Yes,” Zenyatta nods, his face the perfect example of serenity. “Hanzo likes to talk about you.”

“He does?” Jesse asks, surprised.

“I may have mentioned you once or twice.” Hanzo coughs, trying to hide his blush.

Zenyatta laughs, “I believe you miscounted, my friend.”

“Perhaps I have.” Hanzo sighs, holding out a duffel bag to Jesse. “Those are the clothes Zenyatta brought from our dorm. I cannot wear them anymore.”

The other nods again, “Hanzo graduated high school two years earlier than normal. You should have seen him when he arrived, barely taller than you are now.” He sighs fondly, eliciting an eye roll from Hanzo. “I stopped on my way here to buy you some undergarments as well. I am glad I could finally use my gift card, it was about to expire.”

“Oh, thanks.” Jesse answers sheepishly, accepting the bag nonetheless.

“It has been a pleasure meeting you, Jesse but I must go. I hope we will meet again.” He turns to face his roommate, “Do you need a lift, Hanzo? I can drive you back if you want.”

“No, there is a place I wish to visit first. Thank you for the offer though.”

“Very well.” Zenyatta says, exiting the room with a wave of his hand.

Jesse waves back. “Hum… Hanzo? Could you, maybe… Wait outside?” he asks when his companion doesn’t move to leave.

“Yes, of course! My apologies.” The other answers as he slips out of the room.

Once he’s gone, Jesse opens the duffel bag. There are three pairs of boxers and ten pairs of socks in different sizes in a plastic bag with a note attached to them saying: “One can never have too many socks –Zen”. He snorts, picking a pair of each to try them on. The boxers are a bit too big but once he’s put one of Hanzo’s old pair of jeans on, they stop falling. Then Jesse spends ten minutes sorting through all of the shirts. Some of them really don’t look like the kind of things his friend would wear, especially the purple one with a pink bunny on it but who is he to judge? If Hanzo likes pink bunnies, he’s free to wear them, after all.

He freezes, a DragonForce t-shirt in hand. Did he just think of Hanzo as his friend? He doesn’t even know the guy! No… That’s not true, is it? He knows lots of things about him now… But is it enough to call him a friend?

“Jesse? Is everything alright?”

“YES!” He exclaims, surprised. “I was just lookin’ through your shirts.”

“Ah... The owner should arrive shortly, do you need help folding them back?”

“No, it’s fine! It’ll only take a minute!” He answers, shoving the shirts back into the bag and using the plastic bag to separate his dirty clothes from the rest. He quickly hides Peacekeeper back in his belt, puts the coat on even though it still smells bad -it’s the first gift he’s been given in a very long time after all- and balances the duffel bag on his shoulder before leaving.

It takes him a bit longer to put his boots back on but they’re soon out in the street. Hanzo closes the door behind them.

“If you ever need anything,” he says, turning to face Jesse. “You can use a phone booth to call me.” He reaches into his pocket and holds out a piece of paper with a number on it. “It has been a pleasure to see you again, Jesse.” He finishes, a soft smile on his face.

“Y-Yeah. See you Friday night, like we said!” Jesse answers, hand shaking a bit as he takes the paper and puts it in his pocket.

Hanzo nods. “At Union Park.”

“This still sounds like a date!” He snorts, turning away to continue his exploration… Missing how red Hanzo’s face becomes.

#mchanzo #jesse mccree #hanzo shimada #unexpected meeting on peace avenue #umopea #overwatch #fanfic #ecchima writes

9 notes · View notes