#god i remember when this was a silly little ficlet to go with a comic sketch and. boy howdy i truly cannot stop writing

[clarionglass]

for those of you keeping up with the sam reich!master/game master cinematic universe currently being masterminded by the delightful @northernfireart and my good self: oh BOY there's a part 3 coming, and she's a doozy, currently clocking in at 9600+ words with a decent chunk still to go. the end is in sight, though, and while i might split the final post into two or maybe three parts, depending on how i'm feeling, hopefully i'll be able to get the first of those parts out on sunday/monday (time zones...) to fill the hole left by the game changer episode that should be released at that time...

however! delayed gratification is for chumps! so to whet your collective appetite, i've put together a "trailer" of scene fragments >:3 feel free to read on its own, or while listening to this particular track for added ambience!

trailer starts under the cut for those who want to launch into part 3 when it comes out without spoilers :)

The Doctor ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

\\\

This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, the Doctor found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm.

///

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came the host’s voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. 

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam Reich announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

\\\

—and then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

///

“I’m going to hate this so much,” Brennan muttered.

“So’s he,” Grant smirked, then raised his voice. “Oh, Daddy,” he started in a breathy singsong. “Daddy, do you want to make us play for you, huh? Do you want to degrade us, Daddy? Hurt us?”

\\\

“You’ll never get to them all in time,” came the voice through the speaker, dangerously soft. “You can try, of course, but if you die up here, well. That just leaves your new human friends alone with me while you regenerate, and goodness knows what I can do in that time.”

“You don’t get to do that,” the Doctor growled, even as another detonator deactivated. “You don’t get to hurt them because of me.”

For a moment, only laughter echoed into the room. “Better make your decision now, Doctor. Two detonators down, eleven to go, and they’ll reach spark point in ten… nine…”

///

“But you won't, don't you see? Nobody can win a rigged game—the best you can do is run it through to the end. You're standing at that podium, and we're over here, and that's why you can't win. Because no matter how many points you take away from me, you never had points at all. You want to beat me? Then play.” 

\\\

“Run?” Brennan suggested.

“Run!”

///

“And lastly, Doctor.” Sam’s smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

“You can’t be,” the Doctor breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

[sushiandstarlight]

“Family”: NaNoWriMo 30 Days of Prompts

Yesterday’s Prompt

Read this story on AO3

Personal note: I had a bit of an epiphany this morning.  The kind that’s painful, but illuminating.  I’ve kept a few people on the outskirts of my life even though they’re people that did me a lot of damage when I was younger.  And folks have asked me why I keep them around.  I’ve asked me why I keep them around.  Because as long as they are there, I fear being judged.  I fear being attacked and hurt again.  It occurred to me this morning... I keep them there hoping they realize what they’ve done.  I want them to realize and I want them to apologize.  So, I sat down and I wrote this.

Moonlight greeted Crowley when his eyes opened. Unusual, that. It had taken him time to adjust to a quieter life. Not just the silence of the countryside, although that had been strange after so long in the city. It reminded him of older times. Simpler, maybe, but not always better... no matter how the short memories of humans chose to see them. No, it took time to let go of the anxiety that, at any time, one one of his lot could show up and drag him back. Back to that life in the dank and stink. A life of assignments about which he felt ambivalent. Criticism of his work, at best. The stoic silence of non-comprehension, usually. Fear of destruction at worst.

He stretched and rolled onto his back. But, he was- relaxing. He could feel it in the lack of tension in his shoulders. How he slept in a bed instead of on the ceiling. How his sleeps were now naps- hours instead of days or years or decades. There was nothing to avoid with unconsciousness now. He still scanned the area while he was out gardening, but he was doing it half the time he was in the beginning. Progress, he was making progress.

It wasn't all self-work, though. A lot of it had to do with the angel tucked into the covers beside him. 

At first, he had insisted on not sleeping. And, maybe, that had been a blessing in the beginning. Crowley could truly rest knowing the angel was watching over him. But, the weariness had caught up with Aziraphale eventually. Crowley would catch him napping in the warm sunlight of the sitting room, book dropped out of sleep-numbed fingers. Sometimes, if he woke in the night, he would catch Aziraphale having drifted during his Watch. They hadn't talked about it. When Aziraphale started sleeping through the night with him, he didn't mention it. Just curled closer to him, joyful for the evidence of trust: I can lay myself beside you at my most vulnerable and not fear.

He shifted carefully onto his side, bent on catching the angel in one of his rare, unguarded moments. Yes, they were becoming more frequent, but they were still something of a gift for Crowley, after so many years of not sharing this much space and time with him.

The sight that greeted him wasn't one of his best friend at peace, but strained. His face was dawn and lined with stress and fear. And, now that he was paying attention, Crowley could feel him trembling, ever so slightly, beside him. His fists were clenched over the covers. He was talking to someone in his sleep- quick clipped responses that, obviously, weren't moving in the conversation in the direction he hoped because the shadows deepened in his face. Crowley couldn't hear make out what he was muttering. He slid a hand across Aziraphale's middle and gave him a little shake.

The angel's response was swift and shocking in the silence of their room, shrinking back away from the touch and sitting up suddenly, back pressed against the headboard. His eyes darted around the room, taking it all in and wading through confusion before understanding. But, his body wouldn't listen, holding itself tight, his breaths coming in quick pants.

“Hey, hey Angel!” Crowley was sitting up now, too, the sheets falling away from his torso, “Angel, you're okay. You're alright. Hey, look at me, eh? Breathe with me. You're going to hyperventilate.”

Aziraphale eyed him wildly, still shrunk back against the headboard, but met his eyes. He nodded, breathing with Crowley. Crowley deepened his breaths as the seconds ticked by and watched as Aziraphale followed his lead. His shoulders didn't relax at all, but his breathing steadied. Eventually he sagged back, looking away to collect himself. Crowley gave him space, scooting up to sit next to him, but being careful not to touch.

“They found me. Right before the end.”

“Who did?”

“The other angels: Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon. They found me right before the trumpets sounded.”

“They try to drag you back?”

“Well...” Aziraphale was still staring off into space, his face pinched.

“Did they hurt you?”

“They roughed me up a little,” Aziraphale's hand snaked around his own middle, even though the pain of the punch was long gone something about it still hurt, “nothing too bad.”

“How was that supposed to bring you back into the fold?”

“They weren't,” Aziraphale swallowed and when he glanced back at Crowley his eyes were glittering damply, “That is, they didn't seem terribly interested in having me back.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes at him in the darkness, but reached for his accumulated store of calm. A drop a day, it had been filled since settling here. But, he didn't want to test it's depths. Not when it came to Aziraphale's safety and happiness. There wasn't enough bucket.

“I thought I could reason with them. I thought I could convince them... That there was another way, another side. That Good and Bad were human choices, but that we also had our own choices we could make.”

Crowley nodded, letting him speak.

“That maybe we could mend fences, so to speak.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley drug his voice back from dripping with the pity he felt, but only just. That's not what he needed right now.

“I know. It was stupid.” Aziraphale was examining the bedsheets now, twisting the ones over his belly in his fist.

“It wasn't stupid. It was hope. Angels are supposed to be hopeful.”

“They're also supposed to love!” The statement rang out in the room, practically yelled in frustration. Crowley contained his startled gasp but knew his eyes were comically wide. Aziraphale was a lot of things, but loud was not one of them. And he was shaking again, “I thought... I thought. Well, it doesn't matter does it?”

“Your thoughts always matter to me, Aziraphale,” and if Crowley's voice broke over the word 'always', it didn't need to be mentioned.

“I think I wanted them to say they were sorry.”

“For ending the world?” Yeah, he sounded incredulous.

“For how they treated me,” it was said so softly, the words seemed to have no integrity, especially after his outburst.

“I don't understand, Angel,” Crowley reached out, making eye contact, and when he received a nod of consent, placed his hand over the Angel's knee over the blankets and squeezed, “but I want to.”

“See, that's it precisely! Crowley, you always listen to me. Even when it's about silly books or the new sushi restaurant or the terrible play we both just saw. You,” his throat worked, “you make me feel valued, of import.”

“Because you are,” Crowley cocked his head to the side, “you've always been important to me.”

“But I never was to them, Crowley.”

A beat of silence passed, each digesting that statement. Crowley couldn't argue it. He had been in Heaven in Aziraphale's corporation. If how they treated him then was how they had always treated him. It took everything to remember that he was touching the Angel so he didn't clench his fist.

“I think I tried so hard to reach them... Because I wanted them to see me that way. I wanted them to see what I could bring to the situation, what I had always had. What I've grown to have. With, with no small amount of help from you, dear,” he waved Crowley's protestations away, “I know you haven't made me who I am, darling, but you've helped me see who I am and that is priceless.”

Crowley smiled at him and scooted a little closer, their thighs brushing under the covers.

“I think I hoped they would see and they would apologize,” he winced, “please don't laugh.”

“It's not funny, Aziraphale, I understand now.”

“I wanted them to realize how they treated me was wrong. That I had a part of all of this. That I always had. I wanted them to say they were sorry, to me, personally.”

“You would have forgiven them.” Crowley thought, to himself, that that already made Aziraphale a much better angel than all of them combined, but he didn't voice that thought.

“Well, I don't know. Probably. I don't think I could have forgotten what they did. How they made me feel.”

“You wanted it for yourself.”

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably.

“It's okay to want things like that, for yourself. Hell, I still talk to God sometimes. I still ask my questions. I still want answers, Aziraphale. I mean, at this point it almost doesn't matter. We have our side: our reward and our peace. But, it still burns that she cast me out. I still want to understand it. Doesn't mean I want to go back. Doesn't mean I want to be an angel again, white wings and halos and sharp, drab suits.”

“I'm sorry, Crowley, for both of us. They never did deserve us, did they?”

“Nah, and they never really had us.”

“True,” Aziraphale tilted his head to rest on Crowley's shoulder and Crowley ghosted a kiss over the top of his head. Family. They were family, the two of them.

“This world, though. It's full of possibilities and weirdness. We fit in here.” But, maybe they weren't completely alone.

Aziraphale hummed softly, drifting again. Crowley slid back down into the covers, pulling the angel with him.

“I fit here,” Aziraphale murmured into his neck as Crowley held him close, relaxing into sleep. Crowley would watch him, this time, for any more stressful dreams.

Previous Prompt Ficlets:

Hearth / Frosty / Ribbons / Wrapping / Cardinal / Coal / Unwrap / Blustery

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

a language that i never knew existed before - Day 18

Here’s a modern AU for AO3′s valeriacatulli, who requested “something involving Reylo being musicians or arty filmmakers”.

This one took some time to figure out, but I hope you enjoy this little snippet of Patreon-funded documentary filmmaker Rey and Human Disaster™ rock star Kylo Ren. Thanks for the prompt, and happy holidays! 🎄🎁❄️

If anyone else would like a little Reylo ficlet for the holidays, here’s your chance! I’ll be filling requests until Boxing Day, so be sure to drop by and select a prompt!

25 Days of Reylo Also available on AO3

It really is a beautiful night for an engagement party.

The Cantina’s warm, welcoming glow reaches across the street, beams of golden light coming to a stop right before Rey’s feet where she leans against the window of a closed health food specialist. The night is surprisingly cool for once; not cold enough to necessitate a jacket, but nice enough that her hair isn’t plastered to the back of her neck. The streets are quiet save for Cantina and the club down the street, since everything else in the area closes by eight at the latest on a weeknight.

Rey leans against the window with a sigh, tips her head back to look up at the moon. It really is a beautiful night, perfect for Finn and Poe and the thirty family and friends they’ve chosen to share their happiness with tonight.

From the window Rey spies Poe’s father standing up and carefully clinking a spoon against his glass. Time for speeches, apparently, and Rey knows she should get back in there, knows that it’ll be too obvious if the maid of honor stays away from the party any longer, but–

“Was Cinderella not invited to the party?” a voice asks from somewhere behind her, somewhere in the darkened alley between the health store and the club.

With her heart racing and her body poised for flight, it takes Rey a moment to place a voice she would recognize anywhere in the world. She peels herself away from the window, carefully ventures closer and squints into the darkness until a low chuckle reaches her ears, accompanied by an achingly familiar figure stepping into the dim light of the sidewalk.

“Hello, Rey,” Kylo Ren slurs, half his body weight supported by the brick exterior of Silencer, the club he must’ve just emerged from. “What’re you doing out here, creeping on those innocent people?”

She is not creeping, but Rey finds she can’t quite be bothered to deny his allegation when there’s a much more pressing matter to attend to. “Are you…” she steps closer, takes in Kylo’s glazed eyes and slumped posture with slow-building incredulity until– “Are you drunk?”

He shrugs, the motion clumsy and almost comical on his alcohol-loosened limbs. “So what if… if I am? You’re not my mom, you can’t tell me what to do.”

Rey doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry or turn her back on him and leave him to fend for himself. “So what if you–” she echoes with a faint note of hysteria in her voice. “Oh my god, Kylo, what the fuck is wrong with you? I’ve heard the rumors, but I never thought–” never thought I wouldn’t recognize the man you’ve become.

The Kylo she knew – the Ben she knew – would never have gotten drunk. He’d seen what it had done to his grandfather, seen what it had done to his father, and vowed to never, ever lose control of himself to such an extent that he could not be held accountable for his behavior, that he had an excuse to be an asshole.

That was the man she fell in love with. This childish, clumsy, lumbering oaf of an idiot? This one she doesn’t know at all, hasn’t even spoken to since the day she walked out on him and their life together.

“Aww, you kept… kept tabs on me,” Kylo hiccups, clapping a hand over his mouth about ten seconds too late. It’d be funny if it didn’t feel so wrong to see him this way. “I kept… kept up with you too, you know? Saw your new video, the one where you said the city is gonna fall into the sea. Boosh,” he purses his lips, attempts to mimic a crashing wave with his mouth and his hands.

Rey crosses her arms over her chest. “It doesn’t fall into the sea, the sea rises over it,” she explains with a roll of her eyes even as she realizes how pointless it is to have this conversation with a drunk man. And not just any drunk man, but this particular drunk idiot. “Why’d you even watch it, anyway? I thought you said they’re a waste of time – mine, yours, and everyone’s,” she spits, throwing his words back at him four years too late.

Kylo gives her a silly, lopsided grin. “They are,” he says brightly, as if he isn’t insulting her documentaries to her goddamn face. “S’a good way to waste time when I’ve got five minutes before I go on and I miss you and I wanna hear your voice.”

Ice sneaks into Rey’s veins, causing all of her muscles to tense. Is he seriously– now? After all this time? After everything he did? Really?

“I… I don’t have the time for this,” Rey mutters to herself and makes to cross the street. Trust Kylo Ren to show up and present himself as an even more uncomfortable alternative to celebrating her friends’ engagement in the very restaurant where she’d once planned to celebrate her own.

“Rey, wait–” he calls after her, suddenly sounding more alert than before, and she’s not going to turn back, she’s not she’s not she’s not, but then there’s an awful racket and a trash can clatters to the ground and a pained cry rings throughout the street.

“Oh my god, Ben!”

She runs to his side without consciously deciding to do so, drops down to her knees and pulls him into his lap before she can process what it’ll be like to hold him again after all this time.

“What the hell did you do, you drunken idiot?” Rey demands, sweeping hair out of his face to find a bright red gash on his cheek. There are scrapes on his hands too, little cuts on his palms and scratches on both his arms all the way up to his short sleeves, and a quick glance at the overturned trash can finds shards of broken beer bottles everywhere, the biggest one even slightly bloodied by the cut on his cheek.

“Fell,” he manages to force out through gritted teeth as Rey’s hand hovers uselessly above his wound. “No surprise there, right?” the idiot laughs, only to hiss as the movement of his face aggravates the pain. “Always falling for you. Right from the beginning, remember when you walked into Poe’s house and I tripped over my own fucking feet like a complete loser–”

“Oh my god, will you shut the fuck up?” Rey commands him with a voice that’s thicker than she’d like. She swallows the lump in her throat, uses her free hand to reach for her phone. Thank god for dresses with pockets.

Rose picks up on the fourth ring. “Hey, can you come out here for a bit? Discreetly, please, I don’t want the guys to worry.”

“Snap’s in the middle of a speech, I’ll try to sneak out as soon as I can,” Rose whispers back before she hangs up and leaves Rey to deal with a lapful of idiot on her own for the next few minutes.

“Close your eyes, I need to see how bad it is,” she barks harshly, turning on her flashlight without waiting to see if he’ll comply.

“Ah, fuck,” Kylo grumbles when she shines the light in his eyes, rushing to obey her order. She focuses on the cut, but when Rey starts tracing it with her eyes from one end on his jaw to the other right beneath his eye, she finds herself catching sight of the worst dark circles she’s ever seen.

From there it only gets worse: he’s so pale his skin is practically translucent, his lips are chapped and bleeding, and if she were to look up the word gaunt right now she’d probably find a picture of Kylo Ren in the dictionary. And that’s just his face, Rey realizes with a sinking feeling in her stomach as one hand reaches down to wrap around his bicep.

She hadn’t noticed it from afar, not in the darkness and with him in his leather jacket, but he’s so much skinnier than she remembers him being, so much weaker.

“Ben,” she breathes, and her voice is thick with tears again. “Ben, what happened to you?”

Had he really fallen in his haste to follow after her? Or had he just collapsed, a result of whatever this is rather than the alcohol in his system? And he doesn’t even smell heavily enough of alcohol for him to be this far gone; Rey lived with this man for years, knows that it takes a small distillery for him to get anywhere near tipsy. None of this is adding up.

“How long can you spare?” the smartass mumbles, still squeezing his eyes shut. “Because the answer is a lot.”

She’s missed that, Rey realizes with a pang. His awful sense of humor, his deadpan delivery, him.

“Give me an itemized list,” she manages to croak out, tucking her phone back into her pocket.

Kylo opens his eyes, looks up at her and makes no move to shift from her lap. “Haven’t eaten in days, haven’t slept properly in months, started drinking to forget and now I have to keep drinking to keep forgetting, didn’t really think that one through–”

“But why?”

He blinks at her, a slow, confused movement of his eyelids. “Because I’m a rock star. S’what rock stars do.”

This is what rock stars do, Rey. We go on huge tours and we’re always on the road and yes, if a groupie asks me to sign her tits after paying hundreds of dollars for our shit then I’m gonna fucking sign her tits and smile at her while I do it–

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Rey says, choking on a sob as she does. She’s done here. Rose will be out any minute now, and then they’ll call an Uber or something to drive him to the hospital and get him fixed up. He’s a big boy, he’s a rock star, he can handle himself while she goes back to the party and pretends none of this ever happened–

“Yeah, I know,” he whispers, and before she knows it he’s raised one hand to brush away tears she hadn’t even realized she’s crying. “But it’s too late to change that, isn’t it?”

You have the saddest eyes in the world, Rey had once told him, laughingly at the time. Now he pins her in place with those sad eyes and something in her breaks and against all common sense Rey leans down to press her lips to his forehead.

“Not too late, it’s never too late,” she assures him in a fevered whisper. “You’re doing to yourself what I watch people do to the planet every day, Ben, but if there’s still hope for earth then there’s still hope for you.”

Do you really think any of this is going to make a difference? Grow the fuck up, Rey. You’re throwing away your future to save the fucking trees? Everyone wants to work with you, fucking Luke Skywalker is willing to come out of retirement for you, and you’re choosing to go film oily birds and stuck turtles and whatever the fuck on your own dime instead? You’re choosing to leave me for some hopeless crusade that’s never going to amount to anything?

Ben looks up at her with those sad, sad eyes.

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” she tells him as noise spills out of the Cantina from the open door and the click of Rose’s heels grows closer. “You just need to choose, Ben. Choose to walk away from this. Choose to change your life. Please, please, I don’t want to see you like this anymore–”

He reaches for her hand, laces their fingers together. “I can’t do it alone, Rey.”

Rey squeezes his hand, gives him a smile. “You’re not alone.”

She holds his hand the whole way to the hospital, and never leaves his side again.

This is two thousand words long and completely off-topic. Moral of the story, kids: always come up with an outline, even when you think it's just going to be a short ficlet.

As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Please don't hesitate to like/reblog/comment; I'm on a mission to write seven more ficlets today and feedback will help fuel my mad man's quest.

[sibillascribbles08]

Thermal Equilibrium

Happy Valentine’s day take this silly ficlet.

Also from my spirit AU because Jack and Gabe are just??? I love them

It all began only two weeks into SEP.

Gabriel was still trying to figure his roommate out. The blond farm boy looked more like he should be in an IT school than the military. It was a good thing he never said that, or he’d be eating his own words on the first day of training. The guy could use some more work on his upper body but he outran everyone without breaking a sweat.

How was he that fast?

He didn’t bother Gabriel much. A bit chatty and certainly nosy but he respected Gabriel’s space. At first that was fine, as Gabriel wanted to stick to himself.

Jack Morrison, however, had piqued Gabriel’s curiosity.

It wasn’t just his athletics either. Ever since he came back to the room late, Gabriel had been watching him like a hawk. He swore blind he saw Jack’s eyes glowing.

But a week after that, he got his answer.

The higher ups had roommates alternating schedules for injections, in case something went wrong. Gabriel had spent most of the day in the gym, catching up after his last reaction. The movement helped loosen up his muscles, a relief compared to the pain they were in.

He noticed something was off the moment he stepped into the room. Was it colder? He swore the temperature just dropped ten degrees.

“Morrison?” Gabriel dropped his bag on the floor as he headed inside.

There was no response, but he could hear something. There was a muffled clattering and he peered into Jack’s side of the room.

The first thing that stood out was the huge clump of blankets on the bed. He stepped over to it, watching them shake as the chattering got louder.

“Morrison? You in there?”

The blankets shifted and wiggled before Jack poked his blond head out.

“H-hey.” The chattering was coming from his teeth. His skin was even paler than usual, almost blue. Gabriel could actually see faint freckles on his cheeks.

“Jeez, what happened to you?” He tried to count the blankets. “And where did you get these?”

“St-stole ‘em. You can t-t-take yours back if-f-f you need it.”

“Looks like you need it more. The injections do this?”

“Think so.”

“Are those blankets helping?”

Jack weakly shook his head.

Gabriel bit the inside of his cheek. He figured Jack would be fine. The mess would pass like the rest of their symptoms. Still, the guy looked like he was about to to slip into hypothermia.

He couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him.

Did the base have any sort of heaters? He knew there were ice packs in the med bay but were there any for heat? He doubted the people here cared much about sore muscles. The only warm thing he could think of was coffee and he couldn’t just jam that under the sheets.

Would he get in trouble for building a fire in his room?

“Master Reyes you cannot be serious.” Marigold grumbled.

Hey, I shouldn’t use you. I’m supposed to keep you a secret remember?

“Believe me, it won’t matter in this case.”

Gabriel frowned. What did that mean?

“Trust me.”

Jack had crawled back under the blankets. The stack was still shaking.

Gabriel sighed and kneed the mattress. “Make room.”

“Huh?” It was hard to hear Jack through the sheets.

“Move over and make room.”

“Why?”

“You want to warm up right? Or do you like being a popsicle.”

Jack mumbled something but finally tossed the blankets up. The rest of his skin was worse, the tips of his fingers actually turning blue as he tried to jam them under his arms.

Gabriel decided to not think twice about this decision as he climbed on the bed and tugged the covers over them both. He noticed the temperature right away, even colder than outside. How was that even possible.

“Shit Jack, what are you made of, liquid nitrogen?”

He chuckled at that, the chattering of his teeth slowing down. Gabriel couldn’t see anything with how dark it was and just crossed his arms. His elbow brushed against Jack, and he was about to apologize for it until suddenly his roommate was clinging to him.

The cold hit him harder than getting hit with a bucket of ice water. The chill spread down his spin in horrible slow motion down to his finger tips.

He screamed.

“S-shit, sorry.” Jack let go.

“Holy hell, god damn. I’ve never felt something so cold in my life.”

“Sorry, you’re just... weirdly warm.”

Gabriel scrambled for an excuse. “I just finished up in the gym.”

Jack hummed in acknowledgement. His shivering was shaking the entire bed.

Gabriel sighed as he moved his arm over. This time Jack was a bit slower to take it. The cold was sharp, but after a few seconds it dulled down enough to ignore it.

He struggled to find something to talk about. Jack wasn’t particularly chatty, which was weird. Usually when they did talk Jack did most of it and now Gabriel was left up a creek without a paddle.

“Good gracious you’re hopeless.” Marigold scolded. “Just talk to him.”

Easier said than done. Where did he even start? He barely knew what kind of things Jack liked apart from that hidden stack of comic books. It seemed weird now, with as much as Jack liked to talk, how little Gabriel actually knew about him. Jack must have talked about it before right? Did Gabriel just forget? He remembered a few mentions of a farm, Indiana, his parents and some asshole from high school named Martin.

“So uh,” Gabriel rubbed his neck with his free arm. “You used to run track or something?”

“What?” Jack glanced up at him and Gabriel swore he saw that same glow for a moment.

“You’re so damn fast on the field. How did that happen with those scrawny legs of yours.”

“H-hey,” He shivered. “They aren’t th-that scrawny. Not all of us can have m-monster thighs like yours.”

“Huh?”

“N-nothing.” Jack pressed his forehead against Gabriel’s shoulder. Felt like an ice block. “But n-no I didn’t. Did a few years of hockey though.”

Gabriel snorted, trying to picture his roommate in all that bulky gear. “Hockey? Really? Wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“W-what, you didn’t do any sp-sports when you were younger?”

“Not much, didn’t have the time. Played some soccer in elementary I guess.”

Jack was laughing until another chill hit him, bad enough that his whole body went tense. He pulled Gabriel’s arm even closer, clinging to it. Those cold fingers digging into his skin felt like needles.

“You sure you don’t want see the doctors about this?”

“N-nothing they could,” He had to pause, “do. Just have t-to wait for it to p-pass.”

Gabriel sighed, mulling over the stupid idea hovering before him. He had a possible solution to this, but he didn’t know if he could trust Jack enough with it. Still, he’d never seeing the shining, optimistic and determined Jack Morrison look so bad. Even when curled up on the bathroom floor waiting to puke again he’d flash Gabriel a thumbs up and a small smile.

“Listen,” Gabriel said. “I might have something that can help but... one, you can’t tell anyone. And two, don’t scream.”

“Don’t scream at wha-”

He didn’t want to think twice about it. He held out his hand and snapped up a flame. The dark space under was filled with orange light.

Jack screamed anyways. “Holy shit!” He scrambled back, apparently forgetting they were on a bed. He vanished behind the mattress, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

“Morrison?” Gabriel slid over, lifting the blankets enough to see out. Jack was laying on his back, blue eyes wide as they stared at the ceiling, still shivering.

“You just, you’re hand is on fire.” He shouted again.

“Heh, yeah,” Gabriel smiled and held it out. “Catch.”

Jack panicked then the flame was tossed into the air. He cringed when he reached out, trying to stop it from landing on the floor. It softly bounced off his palms, hovering above them. Slowly Jack opened his eyes. The chattering in his teeth stopped.

“Whoa,” He brought it closer. “It’s not... it doesn’t burn.”

“Nope, healing fire. Pretty crazy right?”

Jack’s body shivered again and he practically pressed his face into the flames. “How?”

“Uh, this spirit thing. She gives me some crazy abilities.”

“Wait,” Jack lifted his face back up, the flame slowly going out. “You too?”

Gabriel blinked and stared. He’d never even considered it before. Of course this kind of cold wasn’t natural. Of course the glowing eyes weren’t either. Why the hell hadn’t he even considered it?

Wait a second.

Did you know?

Marigold was giggling. Damn bird.

“You have one?” He finally asked.

“Yeah, my uncle gave me this wolf. He has some ice powers so... He mentioned that all this experimentation might cause some weird side effects. That’s why it’s so-” A shiver cut him off. The flame was gone by now.

Can that actually happen?

“Yes, often times drastic changes to your physical makeup forces your abilities to adjust as well. It can take some getting used to.”

Great, did that mean he was going to turn into overdone hotcake at some point? He didn’t want to think about that. Some days this heat was frustrating enough to deal with.

“What’s y-yours?” Jack had his hands tucked under his arms again.

“A phoenix.”

“What? That sounds so cool.”

Gabriel couldn’t help but chuckle. “I think you’re the cool one here, Morrison.”

“F-fuck off.”

“Come on,” He lifted the blankets higher. “Get back under here. I’ll turn it into a toaster oven for you.”

Jack almost seemed to cringe at the idea, but with another shiver he was scrambling back onto the bed. Gabriel lit both hands this time, letting the flames crawl up to his shoulders. Jack was clinging to him all over again, his shivering almost coming to a complete stop.

“‘S like hugging a big toasty marshmallow.” Jack mumbled.

Gabriel laughed. “You serious there, Morrison?”

“What? Makes me think of bonfires.” His voice was drifting off, like he was about to fall asleep. “Outside on a summer evening. Everyone trying to make s’mores, but half the marshmallows catch on fire. Smells like burnt sugar and smoke.” His grip loosened. “I miss all that, sometimes.”

Gabriel had never experienced something like that before, but found he had no trouble picturing it in his mind. “Tell you what, first break we get we’ll buy some marshmallows and I’ll toast them for you.”

Jack chuckled, cold breath against his skin. “Can you do that with phoenix fire?”

“Well I’ve toasted poptarts before.”

Jack’s laughter got louder before it drifted off. His breathing slowed down, but at least his teeth weren’t chattering. Gabriel considered slipping out but instead he stayed there, trying to remember the last time he’d eaten a s’more.

It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep as well.

-------------------

It became a sort of routine between them. Gabriel burned hot. Jack burned cold. Close contact almost became the norm whenever they were in their room, even if it was as simple as leaning on each other on the couch. If the injections caused Jack’s temperature to drop he’d sometimes just cling to Gabriel’s back, even when the soldier moved around the room. Other times when Gabriel got back from the gym, his system unable to cool down, he’d grab one of Jack’s hands and press it against his forehead. If that one got too warm he’d grab the other one.

Sometimes he couldn’t quite tell if it was his abilities or not that were causing Jack to go so red in the face.

Eventually the injections did him in as well. It wasn’t too noticeable at first. He was taking some time to let the nausea pass, lounging on the couch and praying he didn’t puke. His body felt hot, hot enough that he got up to get some water, but that temporary solution vanished. He could feel himself sweating, trying to stay hydrated but after holding the water long enough he could see the top of it steaming.

What the hell?

His shirt got damp and kept clinging to his skin. Sweat pants were obviously not an option. He couldn’t even leave his beanie on with how damn hot it was, his curly hair clinging to his forehead. There was no fan in the room, no ice, and he didn’t have the energy to make it to the lounge area.

He lay face down on the floor, at least wishing for an outside breeze.

“Jesus Reyes,” Jack said when he came in. “Are you baking in here or something? What’s-”

He forced himself to look up to meet Jack’s gaze, almost confused by how red his face was. In fact that blush was crawling down to his neck. His grip on his bag went slack and it hit the floor with a thump.

“Hot,” Gabriel muttered.

“Oh, you okay? Need some more water?”

“Leave me out in a blizzard.”

Jack laughed, “None of those around I’m afraid. Come on, off the floor.”

“Sofa’s too hot. Bed’s too hot.”

“You can’t lie down there.” Jack grabbed his arm. Cold, cool, refreshing, like landing in a pool in the middle of July. Gabriel knew it was probably out of bounds but he shot up and clung to Jack anyway. One hand on his neck he pressed their foreheads together, feeling that cold sensation rush over his skin. He thought about jumping off the diving board, having splash wars with his mother and how it felt the first time he learned to float on his back.

“Um, Reyes?”

He let his eyes flitter open, somehow surprised by how close Jack was. Once again he was reminded that this probably wasn’t okay but for a moment he couldn’t move. He’d never get over how blue Jack’s eyes were.

Finally, he snapped out of it.

“Sorry,” He let go. “But it’s like feeling that first blast of air conditioning after being stuck outside for two hours.”

“Trust me, I can relate.” Jack rubbed his shoulder. “Side effects?”

“I’m guessing so. I was making my damn water start to boil earlier, just by holding it.”

“Fine, I’ll go sneak some ice packs real quick. Put some pants on will you?”

“Aw, what’s wrong Morrison, don’t like what you see?”

That blush was returning but Jack’s face got surprisingly serious. “Well, you might want to put a shirt back on too. Unless you don’t mind anyone else seeing those.”

Suddenly the heat fled Gabriel’s system as his blood went cold. He glanced down at the still visible scars on his chest.

Shit.

“Going to get ice packs.” Jack said.

Gabriel’s hand shot out, snatching his friend’s wrist. “Wait. You’re not... You’re not going to tell anyone are you?”

Jack frowned. “Of course not. It’s none of my business and it’s not like it changes anything.” He offered a small smile. “I have the taste of that sparring mat memorized because of you.”

Relief washed over him and he let go. “You got that right. You really need to work on being so predictable.”

“I’ll be right back.” Jack said and headed to the door. “I like your hair, by the way.”

Gabriel ran a hand through the curls, feeling how damp they were. He’d have to show it to Jack again sometime when he wasn’t almost drenched from head to toe. Hell, maybe he should take a cold shower while he waited. It’d certainly help wouldn’t it.

He headed for the bathroom but nope, too hot. Once again he found himself lying on the floor and groaning.

Jack was a blessing when he came back, cooling down Gabriel enough to get him to the shower. Freezing water normally bothered him but now it felt like a god send. Jack had some clothes ready for him, and leaving one of the cold packs pressed between them kept Gabriel from sweating through them in the first five minutes.

“Here, let me hold your water.” Jack said. “Keep it cool.”

“Fine,” Gabriel wasn’t paying much attention to the holocaster as he buried his forehead against Jack’s shoulder. He never thought he’d enjoy the cold this much. Even before this phoenix he’d always been one for summer sun.

Jack didn’t say much, occasionally handing Gabriel his water or getting up to grab more. Any time a specific spot got too warm Gabriel would change position, burying his face against Jack’s stomach, his neck, and even his leg.

“What are you doing?” Jack was almost laughing as Gabriel leaned so far down on the sofa half his body was on the floor. He’d tugged Jack’s leg over so his friend’s calf rested on his forehead.

“Cold spot,” Gabriel muttered.

“Alright.”

It became even more routine after that. In fact they often wound up sharing a bed, although making Jack sleep at night was sometimes an entirely new chore. That wolf of his gave him insomnia, and nothing terrified Gabriel more than waking up and seeing Jack’s eyes glowing in the dark.

Gabriel would hang onto their coffee to keep it warm. Jack held onto their water bottles during training. When Jack pulled a muscle in his shoulder Gabriel kept a hand on it. When Gabriel bruised up his knee during a training run Jack returned the favor. Sometimes it was so sub-conscious they had to keep each other in check when other people were around.

Sometimes Gabriel let himself foolishly think that he could hang onto Jack forever.

“You should tell him that.” Marigold would taunt back.

Like hell he would. There was no room for that in a place like this. There wasn’t even a guarantee they’d meet each other again when the program was up.

That thought always tore his heart to pieces. He tried not to think about it but sometimes it was so hard not to. Strangely enough, it didn’t go unnoticed.

“You okay?” Jack suddenly sat up, forehead creased with worry.

“Of course, why?”

“You uh... you suddenly got... cold.”

What? Was that even possible for him? He glanced at his skin like he expected to find something but of course not.

“It was weird it’s like... your flame just burnt out. You sure you’re okay? You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Just...” Gabriel rubbed his neck. “Just sometimes think about how when this program is up we could never see each other again.”

“Oh,” Jack fell back against the couch, eyes staring straight forward. “Yeah, guess that’s true. But hey, hopefully by then you can make it by without constantly needing an ice pop, yeah?”

Jack’s laughter sounded hollow and it left Gabriel feeling nauseous.

“What?”

“I mean, you know, your always hanging onto me cause of all these weird chemicals in our systems. At least by then it’ll balance out and thing will go back to normal.”

“What... what the fuck, Jack.”

That startled him, making his laughter cut off as he glanced over.

“That has to be some kind of sick joke. You really think I hang around you this much just because you’re some kind of personal air conditioner?”

“I mean,” Jack crossed his arms and curled up. “You never really did before.”

Shit, hell, Gabriel growled and put his palms over his eyes, angry because he knew Jack was right. They didn’t start talking until this mutual temperature control took off. Gabriel had never seen their relationship that way, but he’d never given Jack a reason to think otherwise.

Jesus christ he was an asshole.

“Damn Jack, no. I don’t hang around you because you’re a walking freezer. If I wanted that I’d just lock myself inside the one in the kitchen. Less noisy.”

Jack snorted. “Sorry I like to talk.”

Hell, that came out wrong. “I know you do and I like it too damn it.” He sat up and turned to face him. “I don’t... I don’t talk to anyone else here Jack. I don’t trust them. I keep up my front because I’m scared if they start learning who I am I’ll lose all their respect.”

“What are you talking about Gabriel? You’re the best out of all of us.”

“Yeah and how do you think most of them will react finding out that I’m trans. I mean, hell, I even have all these cool fire powers but the worst thing they could do is make you sweat.”

“At least you’ve figured out what they can do. What have I done outside of tiny ice sculptures and night vision?”

“Ugh, we’re getting off topic.” Gabriel ran a hand down his face. “Look, Jack, my point is I’m not going to miss you because of your cold skin. I’m going to miss you because you’re my damn friend, and I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”

Jack’s expression softened before he sighed. “No, I’m sorry for just assuming you didn’t care.”

“Well it’s not like I was being clear.”

He actually smiled this time, letting himself slide over, resting his head on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Yeah, you can be kind of an asshole.”

“Jackass.”

He felt Jack’s laughter against his neck, not thinking when he pressed his cheek against his hair. He didn’t want to lose this. He wasn’t sure he’d feel this safe around anyone else.

“You should tell him that.” Marigold hummed.

Gabriel wasn’t sure he had the confidence for that. Still, “Hey Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me something?”

“What?”

“If we do get separated, promise me we’ll find each other again.”

“Promise.” Jack curled up even closer.

There were no chills, no waves of heat. Gabriel focused on the sensations, picturing the gentle warmth of the California sun while an ocean breeze rushed over his skin. He tried not to think on it too hard, how perfect it all was. Fire and ice, hot and cold, it had to be some kind of coincidence that they found each other. There were plenty of other spirits with these kinds of abilities after all. Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to believe in something like fate.

Just chance that they were both chosen for this. Just chance they wound up in the same room.

Just chance, right?

Well then, maybe that same chance would keep them together. For the first time in years, Gabriel decided to be hopeful.

Maybe Jack was getting to him.