#i had a MOMENT last night bro. like it was begrudgingly 'yeah I like you sure. you're stupid and fun :)'

[jazwritesalot]

Shaken, Not Stirred - Chapter 2: Blue Kamikaze

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi/Kaminari Denki, ShinKami Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia, My Hero Academia Rating: Teen & Up Audiences Total Word Count: 22,634 Tags: Aged Up Characters, AU - College/University, AU - No Quirks, AU - Coffee Shops & Cafes, Barista/Electrician/DJ Kaminari, Waiter/Bartender/Psych Student Shinsou, Bakusquad Shenanigans, brief one-sided KamiJirou, side KiriBaku, background EraserMic, background CamieJirou, comedy, alcohol consumption, drinking, house parties, bar scene, implications of depression, cat cafes

Chapter 1

Written for the ShinKami Big Bang 2020

It seemed that Denki didn’t have to come up with a half-assed excuse to visit Cool Beans. True to Shinsou’s word, Denki received another call not more than 24 hours later from Hizashi in a panic because the lights in the dining area went kaput. That was another easy fix—just some faulty wiring that finally breathed its last breath. He wanted to stay and get to know Shinsou some more after that, but he promised both Kirishima and Sero he would actually go to Sugar Rush and have a talk with Sato about his absences, so he begrudgingly went and did that. But that was okay, because the next day he got another frantic call from Cool Beans about how their pastry oven wasn’t working. That repair was a bit trickier because he had to place an order at the local hardware store for some parts, so there was a delay in the repair, but ultimately it didn’t take too long once he was able to get to work. He was able to stick around a little while on the first day to talk to Shinsou some more, but not for long, since he had a meeting with Takeyama at Lurkers to secure a spot at the club for a Friday night show. The next day, he once again had to dip right after the repair finished because he picked up a shift for Bakugou as the beginning of his ‘eternal apology for being a flakey asshole’ as Blasty so lovingly put it. He was high-key expecting a flustered call from Hizashi for the fifth day in a row, yet he found himself both pleasantly surprised and slightly disappointed when the phone didn’t ring. 

“You know,” Kirishima said around a mouthful of cereal, “you can always go to this cafe just to eat, right? You don’t have to only go there because there’s a repair to be done.”

“But wouldn’t that seem, I don’t know, a little weird to just pop up out of the blue and be a patron after I’ve worked there for the past four days?” Denki pouted, resting his chin on the kitchen table. 

“I mean, you’ve been saying you need to work on your mixes since you’ve got this show in a couple days. Wouldn’t a change of scenery do you some good?”

“That,” Sero started as he entered the kitchen, “and it would give you more time to chat with this hot waiter that you haven’t shut up about since Friday.”

“You wound me, Hanta. I haven’t talked about him that much!” he whined. 

“Dude, literally every other word out of your mouth has been ‘Shinsou this’ and ‘Shinsou that,’” Kirishima snickered. 

“Like you have room to talk—I distinctly remember you waxing poetic about Bakugou from the first moment you met him. What was it again? Oh yeah: ‘I think I met the love of my life today, guys. He could murder me with just a look and I would thank him.’ Or did you forget about that, bro?” Denki teased and Eijirou gave him a playful shove. 

“In all seriousness though, I do think you should go. You’ve been doing a lot better the past couple of days, Denki. And if it takes a hot waiter at a cafe to do that for you, then why would you even think of passing up on an opportunity like that,” Sero said, leaning over and draping an arm around his shoulder. “Besides, who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky like Ei and he will give you his phone number.”

“Oh yeah, like I want to be given the wrong number and then get immediately blocked once I get the right number,” Denki laughed, ignoring the noise of protest from Kirishima. “I kid. I kid. But you guys are right. I think I will head to the cafe! Thanks, my bromos,” he laughed, giving them each a sloppy kiss on the cheek before running to his room. He grabbed his backpack and stuffed his laptop and headphones in it before running out to the living room to shrug his hoodie on and slip into his shoes. He grabbed his toolbag, just in case, called out goodbyes to Sero and Kirishima, and made his way to Cool Beans, excited to get some work done. And, of course, to see Shinsou. 

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Arriving at the steps of Cool Beans sent a nice little thrill down his spine, but he didn’t want to try and delve too deep into the intricacies of why that was. He was about to walk up the stairs when a small meow caught his attention. 

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Denki mused out loud as he walked to the side of the building and found a small black and white cat in the bushes. “Ah, you must be the escape artist! Better get you back inside!” The cat squirmed in his arms as he picked it up and he had to stifle the laugh as he looked at its face and saw that it resembled that of a vampire. He smoothed the fur down and gave the kitty a little boop on the nose before hugging it close to him and heading into the cafe.

“Welcome to Cool Beans,” Eri’s soft voice drifted out from the front desk and Denki gave her a small wave. Shinsou came out from the kitchen and gave a small groan. 

“Oh god, what could possibly be broken now,” he asked, running a hand down his face. 

“Oh! Nothing is broken. I just chose to come here. Also! I found your escape artist outside!” Denki smiled, thrusting the cat out toward Shinsou, who blinked at him and cocked his head.

“Um, Kaminari, I’ve never seen this cat a day in my life. Also, please don’t hold cats like that,” he pleaded, coming over and scooping the cat out of his arms. The cat stopped struggling once it was in Shinsou’s embrace and it started to purr happily. “Where did you say you found her?”

“Outside in the bushes; that’s why I thought she was the escape artist. Wait? How do you know the cat is a girl?” he asked, walking over to pet the happy ball of fur. 

“I mean, it’s easy if you look between the legs,” he shrugged. “So she was just outside?” 

“Yupp.” Denki hopped onto one of the barstools and kicked his feet back and forth. “It looked like she was trying to get in, so I just assumed she was one of yours. But, I guess she would be now, right?”

“Uh, no? We can’t just take in every cat that comes through the door, unfortunately. We are limited on how many animals we’re allowed to have in the cafe at once, and we’re at capacity. Believe me, I wish we could, but it’s out of my hands.”

“What will happen to her?” Denki asked, reaching over to give her a scritch behind her ears, which earned him a happy chirp. 

“Well, since there’s no tags on her, we would have to call animal control and she would be taken to the shelter until someone adopts her. And that’s the best case scenario.” The sad look in Shinsou’s eyes hit Denki right in his heart.

“Well, what if I take her home!” he exclaimed without really putting much thought into it. “She could live with me and I will be her new owner and give her a happy life.”

“You’re going to take her home?” Shinsou asked, arching his eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but do you even know the first thing about taking care of a cat?”

“I mean, how hard can it be? Besides! The internet can tell me everything I need to know! So, can she stay here while I’m here? Let her socialize with the other kitties?” Denki asked, giving Shinsou his best rendition of puppy dog eyes. 

“I know I’m probably going to regret this,” Shinsou started with a loud sigh, “but sure. Hey, Eri. Can you come take her, check her out, and introduce her to the other cats please?”

“Of course,” she replied, sliding off the seat and gently took the cat from his arms. “Come on, little kitty, let’s go check you out and have you make some new friends.” 

“She’s pretty good with cats,” he noted as he watched her walk away, happiness already thrumming through his veins at the prospect of being a pet parent.

“Yeah she is. She’s made mention to me once that she wants to be a vet when she grows up. I think it would be the perfect job for her. She’s always been super kind-hearted and attentive to others.”

“Man, you really care about her, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes,” Denki commented, pulling his laptop out of his bag and getting it situated at his place at the bar. 

“Of course—she’s my little sister. If anything were to ever happen to her, I would kill everyone in this room, and then myself,” he said in a deadpan voice, and Denki wasn’t sure if he was actually joking or not. “Anyway, what will it be today? Another Amaretto Sour?” The stare was replaced with his shit-eating grin that Denki had become accustomed to seeing on his face, and his heart skipped a beat (at least, that’s what he swears happened). 

“Nah, I think today I will just stick with a Coke. Need to get some work done. Oh. Could I also put in an order for gyoza? I’m starving.” 

“One Coke and gyoza, coming right up. So, what are you working on?” he asked as he punched the order into the computer and served up Denki’s drink. 

“Oh, just some mixes! I do some part-time DJing and performances on the side, and I’ve got one coming up on Friday night. Been pretty stuck on the latest song, so my roommates and I thought a change of scenery would do me wonders,” he explained, sipping on the drink and turning the connection to his headphones on. 

“What made you choose to come here? Didn’t you say you worked at a cafe yourself—why not just go there?” 

“What, is this twenty questions?” Denki teased. “Yeah, I work at a cafe, but right now one of the employees, well no, two of the employees are kind of pissed off at me. I feel like that would be too hostile of an environment for me to try and produce anything worthwhile in.”

“What on earth could you have done to piss off two people at once?” 

“What does the sheet music on your bicep say?” Denki shot back, trying to change the topic at hand. 

“It’s the notes for 'Friday, I’m in Love.' Nice deflection, by the way. Back to my question.”

“Stupid psych majors,” Denki grumbled. “Okay, so I’m going to sound like a total asshole when I say this, but I kind of was hitting on a girl at work. I knew her, of course. We have been friends for quite a few years, and I thought she was totally into me. Well oh boy, was I wrong. She got super pissed off at me and told me off during the middle of our shift and hasn’t spoken a word to me since,” he explained, sliding down in his seat and resting his chin on the trackpad of his laptop. 

“Were you being a fuckboy about it? Also, hold on one second,” Shinsou announced, walking off to go into the kitchen. He returned with the plate of gyoza and placed it on the counter next to him before taking a seat next to Denki. “Taking my break,” he said at Denki’s confused face. “Anyway, so were you?”

“I don’t think I was? I was just being my brand of flirty, which includes copious amounts of horrendous puns. Not anything she wasn’t used to, what with being my friend, and all. But I guess it was just too much for her all at once. And I feel like shit about it,” he groaned, shoving a dumpling in his mouth. 

“Okay, so you pissed off the girl you were crushing on, who happens to be your coworker. Give her some space—if she’s been your friend for a while, and you didn’t do anything super asshole-ish to her, I’m sure that time is just what it will take.” He snagged a dumpling off of the plate, ignoring the weak protest from Denki. “Now, that’s one person you pissed off. How about the other?”

“Oh god. This is going to be even more pathetic. I got really fucked up about her rejection, you know? So I started making up excuses for why I couldn’t come into work, since we work the same shifts. Each time I got called in, the same coworker got called in to work my shift, so now he’s super pissed off. And it’s even worse because he’s my roommate’s boyfriend, so now I’ve been screwing up their date nights and stuff because of my dumbassery.”

“Does he know you were faking each time you called in?” he asked while leaning against the counter with his elbow, resting his head on his hand.

“I don’t think my roommate, or boss for that matter, ratted me out to him. I just know he’s pissed because Ei doesn’t get a lot of free time with his work schedule, so they try to do as much as they can when their schedules align. And wait a minute; isn’t it about time I get to ask a question? I don’t think you’re playing this game very fair.”

“You should probably have a talk with him and apologize for your behavior. That would be a good place to start.” He stood and leaned over the counter to pour himself a glass of water before settling back down in his seat. “By the way, it’s your turn.”

“I’ve already started the atonement process with Blasty. He can be, um, very intense. So a simple apology won’t do. But thanks for the advice. Now,” he started, “what’s your favorite color?”

“Purple. That was almost too easy; I’ll give you another question.”

“Aww, just as a treat?” Denki snickered, and Shinsou rolled his eyes. “Okay, what’s your favorite hobby?”

“Don’t laugh, but I enjoy composing music,” he admitted with a shy smile. 

“Laugh? Dude, why would I laugh? I literally told you I’m a DJ and performer. Could I look at some of your stuff sometime? Oh! Do you play any instruments?” he yelled and slapped his hands on the counter. 

“Uh, I don’t know about that. My stuff tends to be pretty garbage, actually. And yes, I can play the guitar, but I don’t get to very much. Too busy with school and work. What I would kill to have a night where I can just go enjoy myself,” he sighed. “Enough about that, next question.” 

They continued on with their back and forth questioning, and with each one, Shinsou opened up a little more, much to Denki’s delight. He found out that he studied psychology because he has always been fascinated in the brain and how people could be easily swayed and influenced by the actions and words of others. He also found out that Shinsou was an insomniac—though Denki could have guessed by the bags underneath his eyes that that was the case. They had been lucky that all of the patrons who had come in the past half-hour had been there for the cat room and not for food or drinks, but soon enough, a stern-looking man with dark hair and eye bags that rivaled Shinsou’s came out and told him that he needed his help in the kitchen. Denki popped his headphones in as Shinsou gave him a small wave before heading off to the kitchen and he immersed himself in the beats that were going to star in his next mix, lyrics already forming in his mind. 

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Denki had lost track of time while at Cool Beans, and before he knew it, they were being slammed with their dinner rush. He had made a lot of headway in his mixes for Friday, which was his cue to head home for the evening. After picking up his cat, whose name was still undecided, from Eri in the cat room, he was met with a horrified look from Shinsou as he placed her in his toolbag. With the promise to get an appropriate cat carrier for her, and the reassurance from Eri that she was flea-free, he began his trek back home.

“Okay, Little Lady, I’m going to need you to be quiet now, you hear?” Denki whispered to his toolbag as he approached the front door of his house. He was slowly beginning to realize that declaring he was going to house a cat without actually talking to his roommates about having a pet may not have been the best idea. So, the solution was simple—sneak her in, warm them up to the idea of having a pet, and then, when the time was right, introduce her to Hanta and Eijirou. Well, it would have been simple, if she hadn’t decided to yowl loudly the moment Denki entered the house. 

“Denki,” Sero asked, lowering the magazine he was reading. “Did your bag just meow?”

“What? No! Why would you think that?” Denki laughed, silently praying that nameless kitty would behave and not give him away. Unfortunately, she had other plans in mind as she let out another loud meow and shoved her paw through the small opening that Denki had given the bag for her to breathe. 

“Dude! You got a cat? That’s awesome!” Kirishima shouted, running over to him. “Can I see it? What’s their name?”

“Ei! Don’t encourage this!” Sero shouted, closing his magazine and throwing it on the table. “He could barely afford to pay rent last month. How is he supposed to afford to take care of a cat?”

“Hey! I paid off Kirishima the other day. Yamada has been paying me good money to come and fix up his shop!” Denki protested, pulling the cat out of the toolbag, which was met with a loud exclamation of joy from Kirishima.    

“Okay, but what about cat necessities, Denks? Do you even have food for her? What about litter and a litter box?”

“Litter box? Why would I need one of those?” He cocked his head to the side as he held the cat how Shinsou instructed him to while Kirishima ran his fingers through her fur. 

“How else will the cat go to the bathroom, Denki?” Sero asked through his teeth.

“Oh! I just saw a video the other day where someone trained their cat to use the toilet whenever they needed to go to the bathroom,” Kirishima added, nearly vibrating with excitement. 

“Oh my god guys, you cannot and will not teach the cat how to shit in the toilet. On another note—why a cat? You’ve never seemed interested in pets before today.” Sero arched a brow at the two of them while leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. 

“Does this have something to do with this guy you’ve been talking nonstop about?” Kirishima teased as he gave the kitty chin scritches. 

“No! Well, maybe. But not entirely. She was lonely and I found her in a bush. I couldn’t imagine taking her to a shelter because what if she never got picked for adoption? I would feel awful for her. So please, Hanta. Let me keep her. I promise I will take good care of her. You’ll never even know she’s here,” Denki pleaded, holding her up so she was right in Sero’s face.     

Sero sighed, defeated. “Fine, Denki, you win. You can keep the cat. Besides, she is kind of cute,” he murmured, reaching out to pet her on the head. “But please, for the love of god, get her a litter box.”

“Thank you, Hanta! You won’t regret this at all!” Denki exclaimed. “Now come on, little lady. It’s time for you to go see your new room!” He took off to his bedroom, kitty in tow, excited at the prospect of being a pet parent finally.     

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Friday had rolled around before Denki realized it, and he had found himself being a healthy mix of excited and nervous for his first performance in months. And, in true Denki-fashion, he had been running late because it took him forever to find his lucky performance shirt. He was hopping into his black and yellow checkered Vans when he ran into Bakugou and Kirishima on his way out of the house. Seeing the confused look on Blasty’s face about his not knowing that his boyfriend was roommates with Denki was well worth being late to Lurkers, if he did say so himself, even if it did earn him a chewing out by Takeyama. All seemed to be forgiven, however, when the club was packed wall to wall for his set. 

The bass was bumping through the club, reverberating through his bones, as he sat at the bar. The silver-haired bartender silently slid Denki his beer, to which Denki nodded his thanks at him. As he sipped at the cool, frothy liquid, he leaned back in the chair with a huge grin on his face. The adrenaline of his show was still thrumming through him and he couldn’t believe that it had been months since his last gig. The rush of being on stage—a real stage (no shade to Tape Deck, however)—and looking out into the sea of people as he wove lyrics into the mixes he created was a high that he wanted to chase again and again. He couldn’t believe that he had put a pause on such an experience as this. He was halfway through his beer when someone shyly cleared their throat to the right of him, and when he turned to look at who was trying to get his attention, he nearly choked on the swig of the drink. The person he was least expecting to be there was gracing him with his presence: Shinsou stood before him looking every bit as nervous as Denki had anticipated he would look in a club. 

“What are you doin’ here, Stranger?” Denki purred, taking another sip of his drink as he eyed Shinsou up and down. Even dressed down in a black The Cure hoodie and dark skinny jeans that Denki was pretty sure were purple if he squinted hard enough in the darkly lit club, Shinsou looked as stunning as ever to him. Even more so with his hair up in a loose bun and that he was wearing all of his piercings—Denki had sorely missed seeing those when he had been working on the equipment for Hizashi.  

“Can’t a guy come to the bar to celebrate being done with finals?” Shinsou questioned, grabbing the beer he ordered for himself to sip slowly on it.

“Sure he can. But most guys who come to bars don’t look like their spine has been replaced with a steel beam,” he joked, finishing his beer and signaling to the quiet bartender for another round. Yet another wonderful perk about being a performer—the free booze. “I never took you to be one for the bar scene, my friend."  

“Got me there, I guess,” Shinsou sighed. “By the way, nice shirt. Rage is a great band,” he commented and Denki could see that he was visibly trying to make himself relax, but every time a person brushed up against him, he jumped and tensed, knuckles taut enough around his drink that Denki swore they could cut glass. 

“Thanks! They’re one of my favorites. Anyway, why exactly are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, of course.” He knew he was slipping into the flirty voice, but who could blame him? They called it liquid courage for a reason. 

“Curiosity mostly. I saw fliers on campus advertising for the show tonight and I wanted to know if DJ Chargebolt was the same person who keeps fixing up our shop. Very creative on the naming,” Shinsou teased and Denki snorted. 

“Hey, when you got something good, why change it? By the way, what did you think of the show?”

“Wish I could tell you. We got busy at the cafe, so by the time I made it here, the show was already over,” he admitted and Denki felt a small thrill run through him at the prospect of Shinsou still sticking around to see him even though the music was done. A slightly awkward silence filled the air, which made Denki pout. He had never had any issues with maintaining conversation with Shinsou before, and he wasn’t about to let it happen now. “So I have an idea, if you’re down for it?”

“Does it involve dancing? If the answer is yes, then that’s an automatic ‘no’ from me,” Shinsou warned cautiously. 

“No, no. Nothing like that. I was just going to suggest we do some shots; just a little something to loosen you up a bit.” Shinsou eyed him warily for a few seconds before nodding. “Okay, sweet! Bartender! Could I get a round of Blue Kamikazes for me and my friend here?” he asked, and the man nodded. “These are my favorite shots ever!” Denki yelled over the music that had started booming through the speakers while they watched the bartender mix the vodka, lime juice, and blue curacao up and pour them into the shot glasses before sliding them over. “Down the hatch!” Denki laughed, pushing his glass forward to clink against Shinsou’s.  

“Here goes nothing,” Shinsou muttered and they both tipped their shots back. Denki let out a small hum as the vodka burned his throat before licking his lips to get the faint citrus taste off them. He briefly wondered if Shinsou’s lips also tasted citrusy, but he had to shove that thought far away before it became a problem. He did have to say, however, that seeing Shinsou take the shot without his facial expression changing in the slightest was probably the hottest thing he had ever witnessed. 

“So, whatcha think?” he asked, invading Shinsou’s personal space. It didn’t seem like the other man minded too much, which filled Denki with delight. 

“Definitely on the sweeter side of shots I’ve ever had. I prefer some of the more sour ones, like Lemon Drops, but this is one I’d be willing to drink again,” he explained, a hint of a smile ghosting his face. 

“Well, why should I keep a good man waiting?” Denki smirked before ordering another round. One more round turned to two, which turned to three then four. The more shots they did, the more relaxed Shinsou became, moving from standing next to Denki at the counter to sitting in the chair next to him, their knees touching as they faced one another. 

“You were right, you know,” Shinsou finally said after they finished their fifth shot. There was a small blush on his cheeks and Denki would have given anything in that moment to place a kiss against them. 

“I usually am, believe it or not. But what specifically about?” Denki made a mental note to start weaning off the alcohol soon—he had to work a day shift at Sugar Rush the next day and didn’t need to go in with a hangover. 

“Just that clubs aren’t really my go-to when it comes to enjoying live music. Honestly? I try to avoid them as much as I can if I’m able to. Every once in a while my friend Monoma will drag me out to them, but I usually try to weasel my way out of it if I can,” he admitted. 

“First off, you’re friends with Monoma? You poor soul. And second, if clubs aren’t your thing, then what is?” Denki ordered another round, and a water for himself, as he awaited Shinsou’s answers.

“I feel like I should be able to get a question in here too, you know,” he laughed, taking the shot. “To answer the first question, yes, I’m friends with Monoma. I’m not entirely sure how it happened, but he was the only one in high school that didn’t treat me like I was a complete outcast. We kind of clicked since then, though we don’t see much of one another since I went off to university and started helping around the shop more.” 

“That makes sense. But man, is it hard to picture anyone being friends with him. I swore to god that my roommates were going to kill him the last time we encountered him. Man just doesn’t know when to shut his mouth,” Denki complained and Shinsou snorted in agreement. “Before you answer my second question, feel free to shoot me one of your own.”

“You’re so generous,” he drawled. “So, do you have any tattoos or piercings of your own? I notice you’re always looking at mine whenever I see you.” Well, Denki sure didn’t expect to get caught with his ogling. Not that he regretted it one bit. “That, and you mentioned that your roommate had some too.” 

“No piercings; they’re too much of a liability with my line of work. Though, if I could get one, I think I’d look pretty hot with a belly button ring. As for tattoos, I do have one tattoo, but that requires at least a level three friendship to unlock what and where it is,” he finished with a shit-eating grin before sipping on his water. 

“That hardly seems fair. But, to answer your last question, I guess I would say my favorite music scene would be the underground one. There’s nothing better than going to house shows where local acts get together to unleash their angst and repressed teenage rage on the crowd while sipping on shitty beer and mixed drinks of questionable potency.” 

“No shit? I actually live at one of the underground houses here in town!” Denki exclaimed, sitting up straight and practically vibrating with excitement. “We call ourselves Tape Deck. We’re actually getting the acts together for our Holigay Bash next week. You should totally come!”

“Tape Deck, huh? I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of that one. It sounds like it could be fun though,” he mused. 

“Our shows are always a blast. I think you would really enjoy it. Besides, Yours Truly is playing, and since you missed tonight, what better way to get acquainted with my music than in my domain?”                   

“The offer is very tempting. I’ll have to think about it,” he laughed. “Where is Tape Deck, anyway?”

“Why don’t you just slide your number in here and I’ll text it to you. You know, for safekeeping,” Denki winked and pushed his phone across the bar to Shinsou, who laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of Denki’s proposition. It didn’t stop Denki from scoring Shinsou’s number, however, which made him feel like he was on top of the world. He sent a quick text his way, filled to the brim with emojis, so he could save his contact information. 

“As much fun as tonight has been, I need to get back home. Dad’s the one opening tomorrow instead of Pops, and he’s about as much of a morning person as an opossum, so I told him I’d lend him a hand with the open. I’ll let you know about the show.”

“You got my number now, so don’t be a stranger. Besides, now that we are at level one of friendship, I must let you know I will be spamming you with kitty pics and updates for at least the next twelve hours. So, be prepared,” Denki threatened and Shinsou chuckled, giving him one last wave before weaving through the crowd and disappearing. A pleased sigh escaped Denki—not only did he get to perform again, but he also scored his crush’s phone number. How much better could life get? 

[beast-feast]

I'm coming to terms with this man. But I don't want to [clenches fist and sand falls out]

[immaculatetfs]

Hey! I have a story idea. What if a group of bros decide to go cow tipping on a farm and the farmer is a wizard. He stops them and attaches cow bells to their necks slowly transforming them into cows. Their utters produce muscle milk which he sells in stores.

Can do (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)

                                                     Muscle milk

*Animal TF*

Jaques Caleb and Chad had been best friends since starting school together. All three had been quick to meet on the football field, their loud, immature humour making the trio thick as thieves, all the while making the rest of their classmates dismiss them as egg-headed and obnoxious, stereotypical jocks. This bond between these three only strengthened as they grew into their late teens.They spent most of their time together either working out, playing football or partying. There was a rumour that back in the 50’s there had been a tradition for highschool leavers to go cow tipping on their last day, a practice that had been outlawed after perpetrators had mysteriously disappeared. Perhaps it was this that gave Caleb the notion at the school ball afterparty.

“YOOOOO BROOOO We should go cow tipping Broo” he slured

“What? Nah bro well miss the party” replied Chad as he made out with his girlfriend

“WeRe gOnnA MIss ThE pArTY, nah man. It's gonna be a RIOT. Don't you wanna uphold the Greenfield tradition?” Mocked Caleb

“Nah man, come with us , it's gonna be HILARIOUS” Jaques chimed in

“Ugh you guys are such idiots. Seeya babe” Chad gave his girlfriend one last long kiss and the trio left the party’s smell of deodorant and booming music, their heads swimming  with fireball and beer and mouths chuckling as Caleb made ribald remarks of what they would do to the unsuspecting cows.

They chose a field that was about 20 minutes away from their school that just scraped the outskirts of town. They believed that nobody would be looking out as the last caught tipping was ages ago, but still wanted a quick escape. 

After climbing over the wire fence, the three made their way up a hill to the nearest heftier, a large cow with swollen udders and belly, likely late in the stages of pregnancy. 

“Nah guys we shouldn't do this, it's wrong” said Chad, having sobered up on his walk there, but both of his mates ignored him entirely as they usually did. The two snuck up to the side of the slumbering animal, creeping up until they had hands right against her hide. 

Caleb looked left to Jaques, who gave him a stupid grin.

“One……..”

Twooooooooooo”

“STOP” a deep, mature voice commanded. They  froze. Behind them a man had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere

“What are y’all doing on my property this time’a night” he said in a thick southern drawl

“You kids doin’ some cow tipping?”

They were unable to move, each standing like statues in the cold, night air.

“My bad, y'all can move now” he waved his hand

Suddenly they could breathe again

“Sir, We didn't do anything!” pleaded Jaques

“Yeah sir! Nothing!” Caleb paroted 

The stranger sighed. Well I ca……..

“Well do anything, just don't call the cops on us! I have a scholarship and iy that happens...!” Caleb cried out, interupting

For a moment there Caleb thought he saw a sinister sparkle in the strangers eye, but it  was gone as fast as it had appeared, if it was ever there at all

“Well i've been needing work done round here recently, how's that sound?”

The sobered younger men agreed, reasoning  it was better shovel some hay than get caught breaking the law.

“Great, Follow me” 

He led the group to a large shed, heavy with the pungent smell of animals. They could hear cows mooing

I’ll need y’all to stick these round yer necks” the farmer pointed to three huge, steel cowbells, attached to leather harnesses that laying together on the barn floor.

“What?” exclaimed Caleb

“Put it on or do I need to tell the cops what I saw tonight?” the man said darkly

Begrudgingly, the three men lifted up the heavy metal bells and clasped them around their necks, struggling with the weight. 

“Don't we need better fitting ones? This is almost down to my belly button, and it's so heavy as shit!” complained Jaques

“Oh that's gonna right itself now don't you worry kid” the man clicked his fingers and all three of the jocks began to feel queasy. “Now y’all will stay here now wont you? I need to go get some things.” The man walked out of the barn, followed by an *click* as the door was locked.

The three jocks looked at each other, a mixture of fear and confusion on each of their faces. 

Suddenly, Caleb moaned.

“Oh guys, I feel really fucking weird” he said. He felt his balls tight against the fabric of his underpants, and when he looked down he could swear his bulge was bigger

“Guys, what’s happening?” His bulge was definitely getting bigger

“I don't know, but it's happening to me as well!” Jaques stared in horror as his sack grew with exponential speed until became so large it was visible against his baggy workout shorts 

“Ohhhh” moaned Caleb as his jeans tore apart with a RIIIP and his engorged sack spilled out, exposing himself for all his bros to see. 

Bonus pic

“What the fuck is that!” he exclaimed “It looks like a, a …”

“An udder”

Behind them, the farmer had returned with two buckets in hand. He was grinning

“The fuck is happening? I thought we were just gonna shovel some shit and be done?” the panic was clear in Caleb’s voice

“Never said nothing ‘bout that, told y’all that I needed work done. I ain't had no new muscle milk cows for a while, bout time I got myself a breeding pair or two” he smirked at the terrified jocks

“Speaking of” he looked over at Chad, who was growing a bulge of an entirely different sort than Caleb and Jaques. While their balls swelled to inhuman size, his member was growing longer and longer while his balls dropped lower and lower. His dick’s tip thinned, losing its mushroom-shape and becoming slender and pointed. Chad stared at his new member in horror, “I'm becoming a Bull” 

“There's a smart kid! and what are thems bout to be?”

“C..Cows''

The stranger walked over to Caleb, grabbed his member and gave it a firm tug. Orgasmic pleasure rolled over Caleb as thick musky cum squirted out his erect cock from his full sack, causing him to moan

“Hear that? yer gonna be a cow. Looks like you two are coming along nicely, rest of yer new nipples should be coming bout now”

And so they did, pushing out of the two jocks swollen new udders emerged round fleshy nipples, each was a size and thickness that made indistinguishable from what had been their loved cocks.

With the udders fully formed, the farmer tugged the two shell shocked jocks over buckets, his skilled hands milking them simultaneously. At first, hot jets of thick white pungent cum squirted out of their udders, but as the rhythmic tugging and squeezing and massaging continued, the content of these spurts became thinner and turned pink until what they excreted was entirely warm, creamy, muscle milk. The farmer dipped his finger into the liquid for a taste. Satisfied,  he then took the entire bucket and chugged, with each gulp his already toned frame grew harder and harder, his muscles expanding. “ ahh always best fresh.” he exclaimed, wiping his mouth of the warm, rich, creamy substance. 

the already muscular jocks began to bulk as well, though not solely with muscle. Their stomachs, pecs and asses swelled bulbously with muscle that was then smothered with a thick layer of wobbling fat. This expansion left the clothes of the men as little more than rags. Their fingers merged together, nails thickening and darkening as their thumbs sunk into their hands, all the while the same was happening to their feet concealed by their worn sneakers. Soon in place of hands and feet, the jocks had hooves 

As his body bulked up further, Caleb’s centre of gravity began to change. For a precious few seconds he wobbled and flailed, until ungraceful falling onto all fours. Try as he might, he would never again stand up. Jaques had better luck, keeping balance until he felt a harsh shove on his thick muscle ass and he too fell on his new hooves, humiliated.

Chad’s bull cock had been hard and throbbing all the while watching this, pumping him to the brim with raging bull hormones. He was overcome by the tide of  testosterone, surrendering to base animal instinct. Nothing mattered save eating sleeping and fucking. Gone was all of his higher brain functions His body expanded thicker and thicker as he grew to a size that put his two  bros to shame. From his head he felt a splitting pain as horns flushed out through his skin. No longer capable of speech, he roared in pain, a sound that deepened as it went on, becoming entirely animal as his vocal chords rearranged. He fell onto all fours, his feet and hands having been replaced with hooves and raw muscle.

As all three stood on all fours, the transformation accelerated. They felt as their organs rearranged in their massive bellies, their stomach splitting into five chambers as to better digest huge amounts of food. They lost control of their bowles, leaving piles of filth behind the widened holes. The taints of Jaques and Caleb sucked into their bodies, changing into the fertile wombs of muscle milk cows. The pheromones that they released drove the new bull into a frenzy and he mounted Caleb, who had only moments before been his best bro.

“I’ll leave you three too it, see ya tomorrow bright an early for milking” the farmer left the barn, not even bothering to even close the door. 

The skin of the young men began changing, it hardened, thickening into a rough and thick hide as short, pink hair sprouted across it. The last thing to change was their heads, noses moistened, becoming wide flat across their faces, eyelashes grew and hair fell from their heads. The men’s ears elongated into cow ears, being covered with the same hair that was now thick across their bodies. Their mouths pushed out, becoming snouts as their screams of lust as they mated lowered to base, animalistic grunts, moans then finally moo’s. Finally, Jaques and Caleb began to lose their minds, Chad having already succumbed to his base animal lust. Memories of being human disappeared from them, lives at school and at home, their crushes, their best and worst games everything was replaced with memories of gorging on grass, being milked (or mounting) and restfully sleeping in the barn. 

Despite this, there is evidently still present a bond between the three .The two new cows are inseparable. The same might be said of our new bull, though his mind would treat anything with a hole as an intimate friend

The Muscle milk produced at Green Valley farms is the best protein supplement on the market. Made free range, muscle milk cows are cared for in their every want to get the best possible product for you!

[honeybee-babe]

Ficlet: Adam+Eric and Ruby+Otis on Another Double Date and Adam’s Allergies Act Up

(brief glimpse of Lily+Ola at the end)

Another cute/fluffy fic featuring sneezy Adam, this time with lots of cute Ruby bits! Canon compliant.

2,018 words

The second time Adam and Eric went on a double date with Otis and Ruby, they had decided to go to the park down the street from the Milburn residence for a picnic.

It was still September pollen count was manageable, so Adam thought he could handle it. He'd been meaning to stop taking his Claritin for the season and decided last night would be a good time. If he took them too much, he found that they became less effective.

What he hadn't been expecting was that Ruby would be wearing so much freaking perfume.

"You two excited to chat more about your terrible taste in reality TV?" Otis teased as he poured everyone a solo cup of pilfered red wine from his mom's pre-pregnancy stash.

"Most people like to stay updated on pop culture," Ruby said, flashing him a condescending little smile and taking a sip of wine.

"Plus, it's wicked funny!" Eric defended, elbowing Adam to get him to agree -- which he did, nodding before taking a long sip of his wine to try to cover up his nose twitching, indulging in a few scrunches in that time. He'd never had wine before. It was weird but oddly delicious. "We watch it together sometimes now. You should try watching it with Ruby, y'know it can't hurt to show some interest in the things your girlfriend likes.”

"I will watch the Kardashians when she plays Smash Bros."

"I am not playing a stupid video game, especially not one with a disgusting title like that."

"...what do you think Smash Bros is about?"

For some reason, the wine seemed to be making Adam’s nose more itchy. He set his cup down and rubbed at it a bit, while everyone else was thankfully too invested in the argument to notice.

He still hadn't sneezed in front of anyone except Eric, and even around him he still stifled, occasionally managing an half-stifle (well, more of a 3/4 stifle). This was just not an insecurity he could fully conquer overnight.

Unfortunately, the red wine was really setting him over the edge. Normally in this situation, he'd just excuse himself to the bathroom for a minute to go sneeze in peace and take his meds. Or if he really couldn't hold back in the middle of a class or something, he'd just find some time when the teacher wasn't looking to stifle into silence. He typically sat in the back so that wasn't an issue.

But unfortunately, he didn't have either of those luxuries at the moment. And it was a double allergen -- something he wasn't used to. Maybe now was the time for him to push his phobia a bit further.

Eric's explanation of the game and Ruby's unexpected curiosity and interest in it (maybe it was the wine talking?) proved another distraction, as he finally indulged in a silent stifle, turning away from Eric just in time.

As usual, the force rocked him to the side quite a bit, and his wine sloshed in his cup from the force, and Eric immediately grabbed it from him before it could actually spill, knowing there were at least two more coming (and Adam spilled shit on himself enough when he wasn't involuntarily and repeatedly convulsing). Thankfully, Adam managed to squash them both into silence too.

“Gesundheit,” Otis said casually as Eric and Ruby went on talking. Adam nodded his thanks to him as Eric handed him back his cup and squeezed his hand. He knew Adam was weird about sneezing around other people and he was glad that he was making steps to get over it.

The conversation dragged on, Adam offering little grunts and one word answers of agreement with Eric. Otis and Ruby (begrudgingly) agreed to try watching the show and playing the game, respectively.

Adam's nose was still itchy, but he could keep it at bay with occasional (and well-timed) rubs and sniffs -- and by avoiding the wine. 

All was well, until they started in on their pizza gluten free pizza. It really wasn’t that bad, and Ruby really appreciated that no one had made a fuss about it. Otis went to refill everyone's wine cups.

"Adam, you've barely touched your wine." he observed, seeming disappointed. “Usually you finish your drink before everyone else. Do you not like it?"

"No, uh. It's really good. It’s just, uh," Adam hesitated. “...wine gives me the shits sometimes, so. Probably shouldn’t risk it.”

Everyone exchanged a mutual look of disgust, Ruby in particular.

"Well, there goes my appetite.” She tossed down her pizza slice and went for another sip of wine. "TMI, much?"

"So, uh," Eric cleared his throat. "What about that assembly today, huh? Quite the disaster."

"I'd rather not bring Hope Hadden into my safe space, thanks.”

"This is your safe space?"

"Wherever there's wine and gluten free pizza, I feel safe." Just as Ruby said that, Adam took a rather large bite of his own slice, leaving a big splotch of sauce on his chin. Out of habit, Ruby went in with her napkin. It wasn’t her fault, she was used to cleaning up for her father, and he and Adam both radiated the same fuckwit energy.

"Uh... thanks?" Adam commented, a little bit embarrassed. Ruby's hand flew back down to her cup as soon as she realized her mistake, hiding her face in her cup.

"You trying to flirt with my boyfriend, Ruby?" Eric joked.

"No, it was just disgusting to look at!" she insisted, flushing a bit red, maybe not due to just the wine. "You should really invest in an etiquette class," she said rather condescendingly to Adam, who wasn't listening because he was gearing up for another sneeze. He’d been set off a second time, this time due to the unexpected proximity to Ruby’s heavily perfumed wrist.

He indulged in another triple, this time punctuating the first two silent ones with a more substantial half-stifle.

“hh’MPtsh! Fuck,” he vocalized on a heavy sigh in the aftermath. Eric rubbed his arm tenderly, which he’d been doing since the second sneeze in this set. Ruby and Otis shot each other a look.

"Babe," Eric started once he was sure that was it, removing his hand from Adam's arm to instead tilt the sniffling boy's face to him. He was clearly flushed and his eyes were a bit watery. "Did you forget to take your meds last night?"

"Uh, no. I didn't." Adam muttered, sniffling rather loudly. Sneezing in front of them was bad enough without Eric commenting on it, even though Adam knew it was from a place of love. "I stopped taking them last week, remember?"

"Why would you not take antihistamines before a picnic if you've got allergies?" Ruby asked, clearly unimpressed.

"The pollen count wasn't supposed to be high today."

"Well, clearly it is.”

"Actually, it’s not," Otis cut in, showing off his phone screen. "I just looked it up.”

"Are you getting sick, babe?" Eric asked, putting a hand to Adam's forehead. "You do look a little flushed."

"No," Adam backed away from him, swatting his hand away from him. He really did not do well with everyone staring at him. "It's, uh, I think it's the wine. It was, uh. It was kinda bothering my nose."

"Why wouldn't you just tell us that?" Ruby asked. "That's a much better image than you shitting yourself."

"I've heard wine can bother people with hayfever," Otis commented, taking the bottle and moving it away from Adam as if that was going to help. "But you haven't been drinking any. You sure you're not sick?" Otis asked, inching away from him a bit now. Eric had mentioned he could be a bit of a germaphobe.

"Uh, no. Not sick," Adam said, trying for an awkward little smile. "Just the wine... and I think Ruby's perfume, a bit.

There was a moment of silence, as if Adam had just said something highly offensive. Ruby tensed up the moment he said that.

"It is Ariana Grande," she defended. "And it's quite expensive!"

"Well," Eric said tentatively. "You are kind of wearing a lot of it.”

Otis shot Ruby a sympathetic little grin. Before Eric and Adam had gotten to his house, he had commented on it himself. Ruby embarrassedly admitted that they’d had to run in a mile in gym class today, and she hadn't had time to shower in the time between getting home from school and driving up to Otis’ house was because she had been literally bathing her own father instead. Hence, the perfume bath.

“It smells really good," Adam explained through a mouthful of pizza, “it just bothers my allergies.” He sniffled again for good measure and rubbed his eyes a bit.

"Your eyes are all red, love," Eric pointed out, rubbing his shoulder again. "Maybe we should go back to yours and get some meds in you."

"I've got some at my place, actually," Otis offered. "We could go back and watch a movie or something? Wine's almost done, and it is getting dark. Hey, maybe we could watch the Kardashians." He smiled at Ruby.

"And you can teach me Smash Bros," Ruby offered, returning his smile and then turning to Adam. "As long as Sneezy here is okay with it?"

"Y-yeah. I'm good with that," Adam offered, actually chuckling a bit at the silly name-calling, and turned to Eric. He was relieved that no one made a big deal about, and pleasantly surprised at how eager they were to accommodate him. You good with that, babe?"

"Of course.” Eric kissed him on the nose mischievously, thankfully not causing another fit. “My second and third favorite things."

And so they walked back to the house, Otis and Ruby chattering away and holding hands, passing the wine bottle between the two of them and taking swigs of it until it was finished, the latter getting increasingly less unpleasant to be around the tipsier she got.

Adam and Eric trailed behind, also holding hands, mostly quiet except for the latter occasionally commenting on how much of a lightweight the other couple in front of them both were. Adam sneezed silently a few more times as they walked. Eric, knowing how uncomfortable he still was about it, chose not to bless him and alert the others, but rather to squeeze his hand and shoot him a sympathetic smile each time, leaning his head on his sniffly boyfriend's shoulder as they made their way up the steps to the Milburn-Nyman residence.

Ruby showered, and put on one of Otis' t-shirts and a rolled-up, comically too long pair of his sweatpants. They'd never seen her without makeup before. She was somehow prettier this way. And also a lot more talkative.

Ola had Lily over, and they tentatively came downstairs to grab some crisps halfway into the group's chosen episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians (the Viagra one, of course -- what else would this group have chosen?). Surprisingly, Ruby was the one who asked if they wanted to join in, claiming she was getting “testosterone poisoning” from being around the three boys for so long. No one bothered to correct her and tell her what the term actually meant.

Adam got a little tense again when she explained to the two of them why they'd had to cut their picnic short and why she was wearing “loser clothes,” but he relaxed again when they didn't make a fuss about it either. Lily even said that perfumes bothered her too, sometimes. Who woulda thought?

But the party didn't really start until they started playing Smash Bros, which is how they spent the rest of the night -- boys vs girls, of course. Girls team reigned superior most rounds, mostly thanks to Ola's mad skills (and Otis and Adam letting them win -- Eric was way too competitive for that, of course).

All in all, it was a great night, and Adam walked Eric home feeling a little bit more comfortable with himself. That was a recurring theme with him, these days, after all.

[vintagedolan]

mixtape - track eleven

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

I was hiding from myself too. I was hiding from the part of my brain that was like ‘what are you gonna do now?’. Like, there’s a part of your brain that does thrive off of feeling like shit.

The voice shifted, just for a moment. 

Yea-

It was a tiny sound in the back, from behind the camera. It didn’t even form a full word before Ethan continued talking, but Indy flinched anyway. It was always worse when she was unprepared for it. 

In her distraction, she’d streaked her concealer too far past her eye and sighed, using her finger to pat it in, ignoring the way it splotched. It probably wasn’t the right shade, and it was definitely expired, but it was enough for her to look like maybe she had slept in the last two weeks. 

She hadn’t. Not really. Every time she closed her eyes, even to blink, he was there. Sometimes, she welcomed it. But in that moment, standing in her mirror in her scrubs, she didn’t want to see his face. She didn’t want to hear his voice. Because she had to keep it together for 16 hours. 12 hours at the hospital on the peds floor, and another 4 at her shift at Jet’s afterward. So she kept her eyes open, took a deep breath, and walked out of her bathroom.

On the other side of the country, Grayson’s eyes were closed.

He wasn’t sleeping. It was 4 in the afternoon, which was the earliest time he could consider himself done with work for the day and escape to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. It only got down to the high forties in LA, even in January, but he climbed under his comforter anyways, pulled his baby blanket up by his face. 

Time seemed to crawl by while he lay there alone. He rolled to his side, pulling his pillow down to wrap his arms around it, and when he opened his eyes, he wished he hadn’t. On his nightstand, turned towards him, was the frame that Indy had gotten him for Christmas. He wished she hadn’t curled up so much when he’d taken it. He wished he could see her face more in the glossy material, wished she had given him a picture of just her instead. When he squeezed his eyes shut again he could see her face better, every feature committed to memory. So he looked. He focused on the different shades of blue in her eyes and pretended like she was in class, and that he was on her couch waiting for her to come home. 

A knock sounded on his door, and his heart tightened. 

Ethan stepped in the room with a bag of Monty’s and a hopeful smile. 

Grayson didn’t move.

“I brought you dinner.”

Nothing.

Ethan sighed, dropping the act. He was giving up on it earlier and earlier these days.

“Bro, you’ve gotta eat. You didn’t eat lunch.”

“Not hungry.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, tough shit then, cause I’m not leaving you alone until you eat at least some of this.” 

Grayson knew his brother, better than he knew himself sometimes, and he could tell by his tone that he was serious. He didn’t have the energy for a fight, and despite himself, his stomach growled at the smell of the fries in the bag, salty and warm. So he sat up begrudgingly and let Ethan pass him the bag, pretending not to see how his shoulders slumped in relief. 

He didn’t have to ask why Ethan stayed. It was to make sure he didn’t sit the bag down as soon as he closed the door behind him. So he waited, and he watched his brother eat his burger slower than usual, fighting to chew it and force it down.

“Where’s yours?” He asked eventually - he knew better than to think that Ethan hadn’t gotten himself a burger. 

“I uh… I ate with Eden.”

Grayson stopped chewing. His question was blatant in his eyes, and he waited for the answer.

“No, I didn’t fucking tell her,” Ethan grumbled, running his hand over his face. “But I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I feel like I’m fucking lying to her.”

“Did she ask about… her?” He caught himself. He hadn’t said her name since they left New York. 

“Not yet. She knows something is up with you though, and if she starts asking questions I’m telling her.”

“No.” It wasn’t a plea. It was a demand. 

“Grayson. She’s gonna find out eventually, I gotta tell her.”

“No. Twin code.”

“Don’t pull that shit man, c’mon, we aren’t six anymore. That’s my wife, and she’s gonna be pissed as fuck at me. If you don’t tell her, I’m gonna have to.”

Grayson stayed quiet and put the rest of his burger back in the bag, his small appetite fading to nausea at the thought of having to admit to anyone else what he had done. He hadn’t had to explain it yet - Ethan knew enough to put the pieces together, and he had enough heart to stay quiet on the plane, just passing over his napkin from his drink as an extra tissue while Grayson looked out the window and cried quietly. But he wasn’t going to tell Eden - he wasn’t ready for that.

Ethan sighed. “I’m just saying Gray, she’s gonna start asking me questions, and I’m not gonna lie to her, that’s not me. That’s not either of us.” He paused, hoping for a response he knew he wasn’t going to get. “Whatever. We have a meeting at 10 tomorrow.”

Ethan left the room in silence, and Grayson closed his eyes.

Indy’s struggled to keep hers open. It was almost 4 am the worst hours of her shift. She poured another cup of coffee from the nurses’ lounge, ignoring the fact that it was burnt as she sipped it down and willed herself to wake up. Part of her wished it was iced - warm drinks made her sleepy, and worse, reminded her of cold New Jersey mornings that she couldn’t afford to think of. Just the idea of reminiscing made her chest tighten enough for her to suck in a breath and start to search for a distraction. She read the schedule instead, checking to see what tech would replace her come 7 am. She still had two vital checks to do on each patient, opting to do them on the even hours. Her head tipped back as she drained the rest of her cup and tossed it in the trash, needing to keep her mind busy.

It wasn’t her job - only nurses could distribute meds, but she could prep the trays for the kids to make their lives easier. So she moved to the med cart and started to look through. 

“Adams, Adrian, Bellon, Campbell, Cortez, Jenkins, Kimp, Lopez, Mullins, Norton.” Her fingers stopped for a moment as she traced down the last names on the cart, mumbling them out. No Newcomb. She double-checked. Nothing.

Bekah didn’t have a tray. 

Indy’s heart sped up a bit, and she waited until she saw Ayria, one of the night shift nurses, coming out of a room.

“Hey, do you need me to get Newcomb a tray? Hers isn’t on here.” It felt weird to refer to Bekah by her last name, but she didn’t want to seem unprofessional.

Ayria frowned, coming to log into the computer on the med cart and check the charts. 

“Oh yeah, everything she’s getting is IV right now, no pills.”

Indy took a breath and steadied herself, glad to see that the clock had turned and she was able to make her rounds. She’d become an expert at taking vitals without waking the kids up - even some of the more seasoned nurses were impressed.

But she could never get past Beks.

The first day, during Indy’s orientation, Bekah could tell something was wrong. It was only three days after Grayson had left after all. Indiana knew that the floor needed a tech, and she knew they’d take her as soon as she asked. She also knew that if she let herself stay at home that she’d never leave it again. So she went and bought the cheapest scrubs she could find and mustered up enough energy to show up. 

She didn’t really need Ayria to show her around that day. She knew the unit inside and out from her time as a volunteer; she just needed the codes for the supply rooms and a list of her tasks for her 12-hour shift. But she was glad that they were together when they went into Bekah’s room because Bekah was kind enough not to say anything with someone else there. Now, she didn’t hold back.

“You look like shit,” she said as soon as Indy walked in.

“It’s 4 am, you should be asleep,” Indy countered with a smirk. The incident on Christmas was forgiven without a second thought, and she was relieved to be back to their normal banter as she put her blood pressure cuff on. 

“You should be asleep. This is your last shift of the week though.”

“Says who?”

“You’ve been here three days already, that’s the max you can work without overtime.” 

Indy kept quiet and wrote down her blood pressure in the chart. 

“Are you okay?” Bekah asked quietly, and Indy sucked in a deep breath, trying to stop the tears flooding her eyes.

“I’m fine Beks. Promise.”

Bekah contemplated if she should say it.

“Is it Grayson?”

Indy’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands shook as she held up the thermometer, and she had to blink hard to be able to read the numbers and scribble them down. 

Bekah took her silence as an answer. 

“Sorry. I know it must be hard, having him so far away,” she murmured. Indy couldn’t find her voice to tell her that it was okay. She fiddled with her blankets, tucking her in nicely and dimming her lights down to give her time to clear the knot in her throat.

“Get some sleep Beks.”

She held it together until she got outside her room, and then the tears escaped. As quickly as she could, she ducked her head and beelined for the nurses’ desk, using her oldest trick of drinking water to keep herself from fully breaking down. 

Valentina sat at her desk and watched with a frown, but she didn’t say anything. 

Indy gave herself one minute, and then she took a deep breath and got back to work. 

Time crawled, and she cursed herself for not leaving enough things to keep her busy for the rest of her shift. By 6 am, she’d resorted to cleaning the tables in the break room and reorganizing supplies in the supply closet to keep herself occupied. She knew the day shift nurses would appreciate the extra effort - they always sung her praises, thrilled to work a shift after her considering how well she set it up for them. 

Valentina came into the supply closet at 6:30.

“You might just work our daytime tech out of a job,” she said, making Indy jump and drop the bandages she was restocking.

“You scared me,” she said, catching her breath. “Just restocking.”

“You work too hard,” Valentina shook her head, crossing her arms. “You’re gonna burn yourself out sweetheart, and we need you around here.”

“I’ll be alright.”

“You act like I don’t know you’re going to your other job right after this.”

“They give me good coffee there, what can I say,” Indy teased, but when she looked Valentina’s eyes were sad. “I like to keep busy.” 

“Too busy,” she tsked. “You leave at 6:50 today.”

“Valentina-”

“Keep talking and I’ll make it 6:40,” she threatened. “And you get some sleep later, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Indy conceded, knowing it wasn’t an argument she could win. Nurses weren’t the type to lose an argument, and she’d never met a more nurse-y nurse than Valentina. She finished stocking quickly, gathering her bags and double-checking she’d finished everything before she headed out, waving goodbye to the nurses she saw. 

She was distracted on her way out, and she didn’t think when she hit the button to get into the next hallway. 

For two weeks, she prepped. Mentally paused and thought of all the things that could hit her out of the blue, make her come unraveled. She was ready, for the couples in the street holding hands, for the husbands coming to walk their wives home from work, the high schoolers on hot chocolate dates in the big city. But it was always the small things that got her. 

She hadn’t prepared herself, and her eyes automatically went to the walls when she cleared the doors. The ocean mural. The jellyfish, the sea turtle on the wall that Grayson had said looked like Ethan once. It hit her like a ton of bricks, her chest so tight that she reached up to press on it as she heard his voice in her head. It made her feel pathetic, the way she had to stop and grab onto the rail in the hall and steady herself for a moment. She counted her breaths, trying her hardest to shut her mind off, staring at the blue of the walls as she willed herself to be okay, just for another day.

Grayson was staring at the water. Or at least, he was trying to. The moon wasn’t very bright, but it reflected enough off the ocean for him to get a sense of which way the sun would come up. The whole surface was washed black by the night sky, and it was peaceful. He wanted to swim in it. He wanted to sink beneath it and find that blissful quiet you could only find underwater. 

He’d fallen asleep soon after Ethan had left him alone, which meant he found himself wide awake at 4 am, body tired of being asleep. Sitting in bed would only make things worse, so he sent Ethan a quick text and headed off in the Porsche towards the secret beach. There was no one else there so early in the morning, and he was grateful. It gave him the peace of mind to curl in on himself, let the tears flow freely as the waves lapped at the shore, returning over and over. 

Time ran away from him in the dark. His tears ceased eventually, dried themselves out as he sat in his misery. He didn’t fight it. Instead, he let it wash over him, sink into every pore and weigh him down, wishing he could somehow disappear into the sand as the sun started to rise and wash the world in light orange. His phone buzzed, no doubt a text from his brother. He elected to ignore it, keeping his eyes on the water, counting the waves as they came in. It was admirable, the dedication they showed; returning every time they got sucked back out. 

At some point, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he sighed, pulling his hood up over his head in a feeble attempt to hide himself from whoever was watching him. He stood up and brushed the sand off himself, ducking his head down and jogging straight back to his car, hoping whoever it was wasn’t trying to come up to him. 

As soon as he ducked into his car and pulled the door shut, he sunk down, resting his forehead against his steering wheel. 

“Fuck!” He yelled, smacking his dashboard. His radio turned on with a jolt, connected to his phone and automatically starting his playlist. Cudi blared through the speakers and he groaned, hitting all the wrong buttons in an attempt to get it to turn off.

“Stop, fucking stop!” In a last attempt he chucked his phone across the car, watched it ricochet off the dash and down into the floorboard. He threw his car into reverse with blurry eyes, desperate to get away from anyone who might have a camera. He was paranoid the whole drive home that someone was watching, eyes darting to the windows of any car he ended up next to at a stoplight. It wasn’t until he got the gate closed behind him and he was in the house that he felt like he could breathe again. With Ethan still asleep down the hall, he choked back his sobs as he sat down at the counter, face in his hands. 

Indy was taking deep breaths behind the counter as the line started to pile up at Jet’s. She looked to her right, frowning at the stress on her new coworker, Mariposa’s, face as the cups continued to line up next to her. 

“Hey Posie,” she called over between customers. “Do you wanna switch?”

“God yes,” she exclaimed, rushing to take Indy’s place at the register so she could move over to the bar. 

Indiana preferred it that way. She didn’t have to smile for a latte, she just had to pour it and try not to burn her fingers and move on to the next. It had come back like second nature to her, and she liked the fast pace. It gave less time for her to think, and she welcomed the numbing repetition. She kept an ear piqued towards the register, listening to the orders coming in so she could get ahead. The next one came from a taller man, his face hidden behind a coat.

“Just give me the biggest cup of the strongest stuff you’ve got.”

Indy dropped her cup, a half poured latte splattering all over her hands first, down her apron, then the bottom of her jeans and onto her shoes. It only took one look over at the man to realize it wasn’t Grayson, and she deflated. 

“Shit,” she hissed, flicking her hands in an attempt to chill the burn that was already searing on her skin. She side-stepped to the sink, flipping the cold water on and letting it flow over her hands. It stung even more, and she sighed at the bright red of her skin. She’d had enough burns from her time as a barista to know that it would blister. 

“Indiana, you okay?” Patrick called from the ovens, moving a line of pastries in and out.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

He frowned, but kept quiet, letting her get back into the groove of making drinks. Indy could feel him watching her, the familiar weight of a protective eye over her shoulder. At least he was kind enough to wait until her shift was over before he tried to talk to her again.

“Hey, how’s your hand?” 

Indy looked down and sighed at the sight of her red skin, resisting the urge to rub it. Instead, she moved to the first aid kit and grabbed a wrap bandage. 

“It’s been better, but I’ll survive.”

“Why don’t you take the day off tomorrow,” Patrick suggested as casually as he could. “You know, to rest your hand.”

Indy scoffed.

“It’s not gonna fall off Patrick, I’m fine.”

He sighed. “Fine, if you’re gonna make me say it then I will. You’re a hard worker, one of the best we have, but you’re exhausted. We can all see it, and you don’t need to burn yourself out like this for a minimum wage job. So, you’re off tomorrow. No exceptions.”

“But-”

“No. Exceptions.” 

Her anger bubbled up in her like the blister forming on her thumb, but she knew it wasn’t Patrick’s fault. He was right - she was just upset at the idea of having an entire day with nothing to distract her. An empty apartment had never seemed so daunting, and it was all she could think about as she clocked out, got her things together, and walked home.

It was quieter than she’d imagined when she got through the door, the click of the latch echoing through the still space. She thought of turning on music, but that only made her think of Grayson, singing off-key next to her in the truck. She could put on a movie, but it would make her think of cuddling with him on the couch. Her bed was where he had been so many nights. He’d cooked in her kitchen, he’d helped her move furniture in the guest room. 

She couldn’t escape him, no matter where she went. And so, as pathetic as she felt doing it, she sunk down right there on the floor, and she let the misery have her. It came in broken sobs that caught on her throat on the way out, too loud even for her own ears as she tried to imagine a day where she didn’t feel like the world was crumbling around her. 

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there. But eventually, the things no one ever talked about started to happen. Her butt went numb, and her head started to hurt, and her lips got dry from the saltwater that ran over them. None of that mattered though. What finally got her up from the cold floor was the fact that she was sticky - remnants of the vanilla syrup in the latte that she’d dropped finally congealing and making her feel more disgusting than the tears. She peeled herself up off the floor and headed to her bathroom.

Grayson was in the shower, with his head down, water splashing over his back and bouncing off his shoulders - a statue in the rain. It was the best place to avoid getting on his phone, considering he couldn’t, and that was the only way he could trust himself to not get on twitter and see the aftermath of the morning.

He wondered for a moment what he looked like from outside the glass shower door, standing there with his razor up by his chest. The blades clogged with the long hairs he shaved from his chest, leaving him bare and smoother than he’d been in months. He sat the razor down and moved to pick up a clear bottle from the shelf. Polis was scribbled on it in sharpie in Ethan’s handwriting, remnants of a Wakeheart meeting. Grayson could remember how excited he was to pitch the idea, even if it was over zoom. 

“I finally came up with the third body wash scent. Vanilla, with a hint of coffee and then a little bit of sandalwood to keep it professional and put together.” 

He’d had to whisper it - Indy was asleep in her room, the product of a good post study-session back rub that had lulled her into a much-needed nap. The team loved it, thought it complimented the other two scents they’d been testing well. Ethan was hesitant, but he kept his mouth shut and brainstormed a backup if needed.

Grayson was thankful for the gesture, even when he’d told him that he’d started planning it as early as he had. But he wasn’t willing to give it up, and he made it very clear in their first meeting back that Polis was a permanent scent. It felt like a tiny piece of her that he could hold onto. Still, as he stood there and held the bottle up to his nose, it wasn’t the same. As pitiful as it made him feel, he tried closing his eyes, tried to imagine she was there with him, standing in front of him, giggling like she always did when they showered together. 

He couldn’t do it justice. Couldn’t feel the warmth of her skin against his, couldn’t smell her shampoo or watch her try to bend over and shave her legs in her small apartment shower without bumping into him. He’d held her hips to help her keep her balance, listened to her laugh and talk about casual intimacy, heard the way it echoed off the tiles and became his favorite sound in the entire world. 

His tears mixed with the water, his pain palpable as he started to quiver just barely, the memory enough to break down the paper thin wall he’d managed to drag back up to protect himself. When his knees shook he gave up and sunk to the ground, green tiles of the bench seat icy against his back as he buried his face in his hands. He’d never felt weaker in his life, and he wished he was ten again, so his dad could wrap his strong arm around his shoulder and tell him that everything would be alright. 

He went for the next best thing once he managed to get enough energy to get up and turn the water off. A few swipes of his towel over his body and hair, then he pulled his boxers on and put on his robe, walking straight out of his room and down the hall.

Ethan’s door was open, but he wasn’t in his bed like Gray expected. He was at his desk instead, a look of stress on his face that Grayson was all too familiar with. A pang of guilt resonated in him when he realized what his brother was doing - picking up all the slack that he was leaving in his misery. 

He hadn’t said a word about it though, and that made it worse.

It took Ethan a moment to realize his brother was there, but as soon as he did he turned his desk chair, giving him his full attention.

“Hey.”

Grayson didn’t answer.

“You okay?” Ethan tried again. Grayson’s throat burned, and he shook his head, sitting on the end of the bed. He’d never been able to hide from Ethan, and luckily, he never really had to. Because Ethan was the type of brother to act tough when he needed to, but soften up at the smallest things. Which was why Grayson wasn’t surprised to see his brother rise up out of his chair, coming to sit next to him. The bed sunk down a bit with his weight, and Grayson let himself press up against his brother. The air felt heavy while he waited.

“You’re good. Just let it out.” Ethan’s voice was quiet, and he leaned his cheek against his brother’s head and felt him go to pieces. It was the hardest Grayson had cried since the airport, and every sniffle made his head pound but he couldn’t pull himself together. Those were the kind of moments where he wondered how people survived without twin brothers. He felt safe there with Ethan - if everything else fell apart, at least he’d have him. There were a million things he could say, but he already knew what the answers would be. Ethan would tell him that he’d find someone else some day, and that Indy would heal and that he shouldn’t feel guilty for doing what he did. He also knew that Ethan would say all of it even if he didn’t believe it, because their pain was shared.

Grayson cried himself out again after an hour or so, his sinuses pounding behind his eyes as the headache settled in. 

Ethan stayed still - he knew better than to leave him. It wasn’t until Grayson finally wiped at his eyes that his brother relaxed a bit, watched him stand up and run his hands over his face. It felt colder without Ethan right next to him, but he knew he needed to sleep. 

“Try to get some sleep,” Ethan echoed his thoughts. “We need to record the pod tonight if you can.”

“Okay. I can help with the emails, I know we probably have a shit ton.”

Ethan was already shaking his head before he finished.

“Just get some sleep, okay?”

Grayson nodded and gave him the best smile he could manage before he went back into his room, climbing back into the safety of his covers with his phone in his hand, just in case she called.

Indy’s pillow was wet. It was mainly from her hair soaking into the pillowcase - she didn’t have the energy to dry it after her shower. But she’d also made a terrible mistake. One scroll through the app store and a quick log in and she was back onto instagram, ignoring the now thousands of follow requests she had in her notifications. It only took one click to her explore page and her tears were adding to the moisture below her cheek. 

He had on his Cudi hoodie, the yellow one. She wished she’d been there to tell him not to wear it. It was too bright, a target for the cameras that seemed to find him. The first ones she saw stung. They were only of his back, taken from far enough away that she could pretend it was someone else. But she knew the way he sat, with his arms over his knees. 

The next ones hurt, because she could see his face. He was walking, and she knew him well enough to know he’d realized what was happening and tried to leave, just from his posture, the way he slumped while walking. His eyes were red, those dark circles that she’d ran her fingers over so many times worse than she’d ever seen them. Ever since he’d left, she’d wanted to know how he felt. If he missed her at all, if he was as miserable as she seemed to be every minute of every day.

It hurt worse to get her answer than it did to wonder. She’d hoped he was upset, but suddenly all she wanted to do was hold him, tell him it was okay, that she was okay even though she wasn’t. It was impossible not to scroll, looking for anything new, any hints as to what he had been up to since he’d gotten off that plane. 

She had never asked for a front row seat to his life, but she’d take it if it was the only glimpse of him that she could get. It made her feel pathetic, but she didn’t care enough to fight it.

Eventually, she found herself scrolling his page. She couldn’t tell how she got there, but she couldn’t seem to leave it either. So she just scrolled, averting her eyes from any comments, and pretending, just for a moment, that everything was back to the way it was. That he was just busy recording a podcast, or that he’d be sprawled out on her couch when she went out to the living room. 

She held onto it until she walked out of her room, knowing she needed to eat even though she didn’t want to. She kept her eyes off the couch, moving to her cabinets that were barren apart from a few avocados that were rotten. With a sigh she threw them in the trash that was close to overflowing, opting instead for the last box of mac and cheese she had left. 

Indy was thankful for muscle memory, her mind wandering off to better days where her kitchen wasn’t so quiet as she cooked the pasta she really didn’t want and took it back to her room, curling up under her covers as she ate.

Grayson had two empty boxes of vegan mac and cheese in front of him, one of which obviously had an ‘E’ scribbled on it that he’d ignored when he made them. He shoveled the noodles into his mouth, ignoring the way they burnt his tongue just barely. Ethan walked in and saw the boxes, opened his mouth and shut it again. 

“S’pod setup?” Grayson said around a mouthful.

“Yeah, I set up the pod, we’re good whenever you’re ready.”

“Gimminute.”

Ethan just chuckled and shook his head, happy to at least see his brother eating even if he was shoveling it down like he hadn’t seen food before. He waited, seeing that Gray was done within the next two minutes, sitting his bowl in the sink and stretching his arms out. He looked tired, but Ethan hoped the pod camera was far enough away from them to make the dark circles subtle enough. 

“Do you want some of my old concealer stuff? For under your eyes?”

Grayson hesitated for a moment, picking at his nails. “You still have it?” 

“Yeah, hang on.” Ethan ran to his bathroom, snagged the compact from his bottom drawer and brought it to the kitchen. “Come over here, you’re supposed to do it in natural light.”

He held it out for Grayson, who just looked up at him. 

“I don’t know how the fuck to do it, you do it.”

“Do I look like a makeup artist to you?” Ethan asked, and when Grayson stayed quiet, he sighed and flipped the compact open, swiping his finger through the semi-creamy substance and moving to pat it on his brother, frowning when it was more difficult than he thought it would be. “Look up you fuck, I gotta blend it.”

Grayson just rolled his eyes but did as he was told, sitting still until E said he was finished and led the way to the studio. They got settled in their chairs, double checking the camera angles. Ethan cleared his throat, waiting until his brother looked at him. 

“Are we… do you want to mention anything about…”

Grayson waited. He wondered if his brother was really going to be dumb enough to ask.

“Are we talking about the pictures, yes or no.”

“What the fuck do you think the answer to that is,” Gray grumbled.

“I’m just saying, if you mention it you can say what you want about it, get your own voice out there. Whatever you say, I’ll go along with it.”

“Great.”

Grayson took a deep breath, gave Ethan a look that read as an apology, and clicked the button to start recording. He stayed fairly quiet the first few minutes of the recording, waiting to jump into a conversation that didn’t make his throat tight. The podcast was his favorite place, because he could let himself actually speak, say what he wanted to say without worrying. 

It came back to bite him in the ass 45 minutes into the episode, when his guard was down and he had finally lost himself the way he did when he worked. They were talking about birds, and how they had a bad, unjustified rep. 

“I mean, Gizmo can be an asshole sometimes, but she’s only an asshole when people are like, scared of her,” Ethan mused. 

“Right! She gets all shy when I come home after a while, but when Dee came in the house the first time she was freaking out, just from hearing her and I swear, every time after that Giz just like, screamed every single time she was even in the house.”

“Gray-”

“No seriously! You remember how loud she got? Fuck, remember that time she went down to help mom with dessert and Giz was out and she cried?”

“Grayson.”

“What? Did I peak the mic?”

Ethan’s eyes were sad. “You… you said her name.”

“Huh?”

“Indiana. You said Dee, when you were telling that story.”

He swallowed hard. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He could see him spiraling, and he tried to reel him back in. “You’re okay. We can just cut it, and start again with a story about Gizmo.” 

“Yeah uh… just give me a second.”

“Sure. Whatever you need.”

“Just, uh, say what you said again before,” Grayson murmured, shaking his head to try and clear it. But it was too late - he was so consumed by what his mind had brought back to the surface that he could barely hear Ethan repeat his words.

“Yeah-” Grayson came in a moment late. “Giz is a special one.”

Ethan waited for him to continue, but jumped in when he didn’t. “She gets shy when you haven’t been home in a while and you show up. That’s the thing about animals dude, like people think about cats and dogs and they can recognize their emotions, but with stuff like birds and cows and shit, people just don’t think about them that way, and it fucking sucks. They have feelings too! Gizmo’s fucking sassy bro, she will let you know how she’s feeling, especially if she’s pissed. Bro, we should have Giz on the pod, do you think she’d talk? She can whistle, we could show off her tricks.”

“You can’t put a bird on a plane,” Grayson mumbled. His eyes were fixed down on the blue center of the table, and he was fidgeting with his sleeves.

“Yeah, but we can put the mics in our suitcases and just record at home.”

Ethan realized it a moment too late. He wanted to snatch his words out of the air, scratch them from the tape when he saw the way Grayson’s eyes met his, saw the gloss near his waterline. 

“Yeah - uh - um,” Grayson tried to save it, and then he covered his mouth, silencing the squeak that turned into a sob. He pretended it was a cough, bringing his hand up and running his fingers over his forehead, shielding his eyes from the camera.

“I uh, I miss home a lot more this time than I usually do,” he said, his voice froggy with the tightness of his throat. Ethan couldn’t say anything. There was nothing to say as he watched his brother fight and lose in his battle to keep his composure, covering his mouth as he cried, knuckles brushing up against the mic.

“Fuck, sorry, I’m sorry E.”

“It’s okay, hey, it’s okay.” Ethan was up so fast he forgot to take off his headphones. They fell back into the chair when they pulled off his ears as he moved to his brother, pulling him up into a hug. “We can finish it later, we’ll just cut to an ad or something. It’s okay.”

“Sorry.”

“Shh. It’s fine bro, it’s fine. C’mon, let’s go get some air.” 

Air wasn’t what they found.

Instead, they found Eden, standing against the counter with her arms crossed in a way that had Ethan’s blood running cold. He thought the sight of Grayson practically curled in on himself might have softened her up, but she stood her ground until both of the twins were looking at her. 

Grayson knew that she knew, and she only confirmed it when she spoke.

“What. The fuck. Is wrong with you.” 

Back in New York, Indy’s phone was ringing. Or at least, she thought it was. But when she unlocked it and was blinded by the light, it was just her lockscreen, Grayson smiling at her with 3:04 written across the top. Judging by the darkness, she knew she hadn’t slept the afternoon away, but the buzzing continued until she finally climbed out of bed and realized it was the intercom system - the front desk calling her through the small phone on her wall that hardly ever rang. She pulled it off the receiver and held it up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi Ms. Cross, there’s a gentleman here to see you.”

Her heart skipped, and she clutched the phone with both her hands.

“Who?”

There was a beat of silence, and Indy could vaguely hear her ask him for a name. 

“His name is Devin.” 

She sucked in a breath, letting her head and her hopes fall. 

“Send him up.” 

It took her a moment to process her grief before the panic set in. If Devin was showing up unannounced, something bad must have happened. She swung her door open, chewing on her nails as she stood in the doorway, waiting for him to appear. He came out of the elevator with a small duffle slung over his shoulder and a cautious smile that had her ready to cry.

“Dev, what the hell are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Charlie?”

“Also fine. We’re fine.”

She caught her breath, and then she was frowning. “If everything is fine, why the fuck are you here at 3am?”

“Because you haven’t answered your sister’s calls in a week, and she’s worried sick about you.”

Guilt panged in her stomach - she hadn’t meant to ignore her. In all honesty, she’d ignored everyone without realizing it. 

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean to. Just slipped my mind. Is she here too?”

“She’s got a wedding to shoot this weekend, and we only had one ticket anyways. Flight got delayed, tried to find a hotel for the night so I could wait until later this morning but I couldn’t find one so you’re stuck with me. Sorry,” he teased, reaching out to hold onto her shoulder. There was no malice in his voice, and Indy was grateful. “Let’s go inside.” 

He didn’t ask for it, but she made him a coffee anyways alongside her own. She was tired, her eyes burning, but it wasn’t anything new from the last few weeks. She fought it, pulling one of the few sweatshirts Grayson had left at her place over her head before she sat on the couch, waiting.

Devin was quiet, tapping his fingers against his mug, out of his element. 

“Dev.”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t fly to New York to drink coffee with me. Talk.”

He sighed, sitting his mug down on the coffee table and turning towards her.

“Inds, we’re worried about you.” 

Indy scoffed, a short, automatic sound. 

“I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. You really, really aren’t. You’re running yourself into the ground for no good reason.” 

“I’m trying to pay rent,” she countered, but even she knew it wasn’t true.

“Your hospital job pays more than rent. Jet’s is just because you’re scared to let your mind rest.”

Indy didn’t have an answer, so she sipped her coffee instead, cursing herself for telling Charlie everything in a moment of weakness. The silence was loud, and Devin sighed to break it after far too long.

“Have you talked to him? Since?”

Her throat was tight. “No.”

Devin wrung his hands together. “You do know it was fucked up what he did, right?”

“Dev-”

“I’m just making sure you know that. You can still make your own decision on however you wanna navigate it in the future, but you have to acknowledge that what he did was a new level of shitty. And he’s a good guy, I really do think he is, but he fucked you over, and you’re my family. And I protect my family. So I just need you to know that you didn’t deserve what he did to you, and he fucked up. Big time.” 

“Right.”

“Okay, good.”

She let him believe it, though she’d only said it to appease him. She wondered if he would feel differently, if he had seen. If he had felt, the way that Grayson had shook in her arms, the way his sobs seemed to be ripping him apart every moment that he was hurting her. She wanted to pull up her phone, show him the pictures from the beach, show him that he was hurting too, that he didn’t want to hurt her. She wanted to prove it to him.

“When does your semester start?” He asked, pulling her mind off of it. She swallowed hard, then took another drink of coffee. 

Indiana had spent three days in self pity when she got back from the airport. She let the misery have her fully - didn’t change her clothes, barely ate, hardly left her bedroom. And then, after that, she picked herself up and got to work. She applied for her tech job and called Patrick to see if she could get the schedules to align, and more importantly, she’d started to run numbers. 

Medical school. Just the application fees alone were going to hit her budget hard, so much so that she reduced it down to two. JCU, and UCLA. 

Her applications had gotten accepted three days prior, along with an email about a scholarship she was eligible for at UCLA that made it comparable to JCU’s tuition. But the money wasn’t the issue, and when it was time to accept, she knew that UCLA wouldn’t hold her spot forever.

She’d taken a deep breath, and emailed the registrar. 

“I deferred.”

She was embarrassed to say it outloud, and for some reason it was the brick of the dam that fell, and her tears began to flow. She felt Devin’s hand on her shoulder before he spoke.

“Good.”

She hadn’t expected him to be mean - in fact, the meanest thing she’d ever heard him say was what he’d just said about Grayson. But it still shocked her enough to have her frowning.

“Good?”

“Indy. Do you realize how long you’ve been a student? Do you know who you are outside of being one?”

“I-”

“You’re the smartest person I know, and I love you, but I think you need to take a step back and really look at what you’re doing. Take a semester, fuck, take a year. Live. Breathe. You’re already ahead, and you’ll still be ahead.”

“I’m not worried about being ahead, Dev,” she whispered, running her hands over her face.

“Then what are you worried about?” There was a sincerness in his voice, and a gentleness in the way he held her hand that made her cry even harder.

“I just don’t know what the fuck to do anymore,” she blubbered, grateful when he pulled her over to his chest in a hug. He let her cry it out for a while, waiting until she was calm enough to hear him.

“I don’t have the answer to that, but I say, ask yourself what you really want the rest of your life to look like, and then do whatever you have to to get there. If it’s being a doctor, great. If it’s not, great. Just as long as it’s what you want.”

She took a shaky breath in, and blew it out through her lips, simply giving him a nod.

The problem was, she knew exactly what she wanted - and he was off in Los Angeles, cowering behind his brother.

“Baby, woah, hey, take it easy,” Ethan cautioned, side stepping into the war path she’d outlined, headed straight for Grayson. Her eyes were fire when she looked at her boyfriend and raised an eyebrow.

“He’s having a rough night, just take it easy,” he added.

He stoked the flames.

“You know who else is probably having a rough fucking night? Indiana. And we are gonna talk later-” she poked a finger into Ethan’s chest - “but right now, I’m not talking to you so I suggest you get out of my way.” 

There was a bite in her tone that had Ethan rocking back on his heels, questioning just how far his duties as protective brother would go. He breathed out a sigh when he felt Grayson’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine E.” 

He’d never admit it, but Grayson had been waiting. Ever since he pulled away on New Year’s, he had waited for the punishment. The anger, the disbelief, the spite that he thought would arise in Indiana at the realization of what he’d done. 

It wasn’t until he got off the plane and into his room that he realized his true punishment would be the guilt, and the grief, and the realization that he’d pushed away the only future he’d ever truly known he wanted. 

The anger was a welcomed change.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck, Grayson.”

“I know.”

“I don’t say a lot of shit about a lot of shit, but whoever you decide to be with could possibly end up as part of my family, forever, so fuck me if I’m invested, and I think I deserve an explanation on why I just got a call from Charlie to see if I’d talked to Indy, cause she’s ‘really going through it’.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her.” His eyes turned glossy, and Ethan stood up straighter.

“The fuck you didn’t,” she scoffed, running her hand through her hair to push her curls out of her face. “You realize how badly you fucked up, right? Right?”

“Yes.”

“And that you broke her heart right? Probably absolutely fucking destroyed her.”

“Eden-” Ethan spoke up.

“Yes,” Grayson answered, his chest tight. He wrapped his arms around himself, willed them to hold him together. It felt different, to have someone say it to him so directly, to confirm what he had done.  

“Then why? Just… why?”

“Long distance wouldn’t have worked, and I didn’t want -”

“Oh bullshit. No one would have tried harder than Indiana to make that work, you fucking know that.”

“She shouldn’t have to deal with that, with me being so far away -”

“God you fucking self-sacrificial fuck!” She yelled. “She loved you, you moron, and when you love someone, you give! You hit a crossroads, you sit down and have a fucking conversation, and you fucking give! That’s what a fucking real relationship looks like, not you deciding that you don’t deserve to be loved and running in the other fucking direction!” Her face was red when she stopped to catch her breath. Ethan looked just as shocked at the outburst as his brother. Her mind seemed to catch up to her ears, and she backtracked.

“Sorry, fuck, that was -”

“No, you're right. You’re right. Everything you said was fucking right,” Grayson didn’t even try to hide his tears. He blubbered into his hands, ugly choking sobs that he wasn’t sure how he even produced. Ethan was at his side immediately, arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“What do I do?” He asked, voice muffled by his hands until he finally raised his head and looked at Eden with pleading eyes, waiting for an answer she was reluctant to give.

“You let her live. Don’t text her, don’t call her. If she calls, you don’t answer. When you go home, you don’t see her. You let her let go, and move on.”

All he could do was nod, and lean into his brother.

Indy leaned against the wall. It was cold and unrelenting against her shoulder, but it held her up better than her own legs would. She’d dropped Devin off at the airport that afternoon, and found herself back on the ped’s floor, waiting. 

Valentina spotted her first from the nurses station, and the way she held her clipboard made it look like a weapon.

“My eyes better be deceiving me, cause’ I know that is not Indiana Cross standing in my hallway on her day off.” 

Indy found it in her to laugh dryly. “Relax Val, I’m here to see Beks. Haven’t gotten to visit her off the clock for a while.”

Valentina still gave her signature disapproving stare, but she gave it up with a sigh. “Well, her family is visiting too. Mom and Dad, if you wanna say hi.”

It had been a long time since she’d seen Mr. and Mrs. Newcomb. They were lovely people, and they truly did come see her as often as they could. But they also worked two jobs a piece to try to foot the medical bills, which meant often was scarce. 

Indy had never seen them in the same room before, and her stomach tightened. She was hesitant to go to Bekah’s room, scared to interrupt, but when she peaked her head around her doorway, she saw the couple sitting on the couch in the room quietly. 

Mrs. Newcomb spotted her, eyes brightening as she waved her inside. 

“Come in, come in!”

Indy was still hesitant as she walked inside, eyes darting over to a sleeping Bekah. She was curled up under her halloween blanket, brows furrowed down and skin pale. 

“Hi Indiana, how are you sweet girl?” Mrs. Newcomb asked.

“I’m good, I’m sorry to interrupt, I just thought I might stop by and check on her but I don’t want to intrude.”

“No, no you’re fine! She was actually asking about you just before she went to sleep, you and Earring, whoever that is. Hang on.”

Indy watched as she moved over to the edge of her daughter’s bed, running her thumb along her cheek until she started to stir.

“Sweetheart, Indiana is here to see you. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Bekah whined, but pulled her eyes open, smiling slightly when Indiana moved into her view.

“Hey punk,” Indy said, crouching down so she could get to her level. 

“Hey,” she whispered, voice hoarse. On instinct, Indy reached out to fix her head wrap, making Bekah’s mother smile. “What time is it?”

“6:55,” Indy answered.

“Mmm. Meds coming soon,” she mumbled. “Where’s Earrings? He doesn’t like needles, don’t let him see the needles.”

“No needles baby,” Mrs. Newcomb said. “Just some to make you feel better. You rest now.”

“Earrings,” she said again, and Indy could tell she was asking. 

“He’ll be here to see you soon,” Indy lied, rubbing over her wrap like she would her hair if it was still there. 

It didn’t click for Indiana until 7 rolled around, and Jennifer came in with a cup of pills instead of an IV pole.

Radiation and chemo don’t come in pills, Indy knew that much. 

Mrs. Newcomb watched the realization come across her face, and she gave her a sympathetic smile.

“She’s… she didn’t get her meds.”

“Indiana baby, it’s what she wants. The new round didn’t work, the stem cells failed. It’s time to let her rest. We’ll keep her comfortable, the doctor says it’ll probably be a few weeks, maybe a month.”

Indy’s throat burned, and her breathing quickened, chest rising much too fast. She couldn’t say goodbye to anyone - it took all her focus to make it out of the building, running down the stairs and across the lobby before she was dry heaving in the bushes, the sight of Bekah’s frail body in her bed appearing every time she closed her eyes.

It wasn’t a conscious decision. More of an instinct, really, that drove her to pull her phone out of her pocket and pull him up and call.

In LA, Grayson’s phone buzzed against his nightstand. A new picture of Indiana popped up - her contact photo that he’d taken one day in Jersey. With a knot in his throat and Eden’s voice in his ears, he reached over and turned it off before rolling away and letting his tears soak into the pillowcase.

[midnyghtmadnes]

Thoughts

So... I finished SVSSS. Gonna just stream out my thoughts. Will be long cause I wanna cover all my final opinions. Then I’ll shut up about it lol.

So, all in all, the novel was enjoyable and fun. Definitely can't say I have the same emotional investment in the characters as I do in MDZS though, except SY, he's my favorite.

To start, I guess this is where fanfics will come into play, but I want more SY and Airplane interactions. They're the only two that can truly understand the other's situation and I think that’d make for a lot of interesting and fun interactions. Though at the same time it's also funny how they have that understanding but their current relationship is basically just like, not a love-hate relationship. But a.. somewhat camaraderie I'll help ya out maybe if you need it-but I also don't particularly like you, relationship. Still, I am falling onto the Cucumberplane wagon (not in a shippy way though).

As for MBJ and Airplane.. I just wish the novel went into the status of their relationship after everything that happened. SQH was constantly stressed out by him and seemed to have had his share of beatings from MBJ. I saw shipping stuff with them as I was reading it and I was like.. ehhhh? At that point the only connection I knew was that MBJ was the one who was supposed to kill him, so I was like ?? Where did that come from. By the end of the extras, I wanna say I'm on board with it lol, but I just wish we saw more.

Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang... :( I love them and am really sad for them. And yes, I do constantly forget that ZZL killed Gongyi Xiao (who I liked a lot), but come on. He's snek Wen Ning and you can't tell me otherwise. I also actually like Shen Jiu's character. Which is kinda funny thinking about it, cause for example I know many ppl find JGY to be a sympathetic villain, and while I can understand, I still hate him lol. But SJ, who feels very similar to JGY in some ways, I find him really interesting and want to explore him more (that's what fanfics are for ayyy). Funny how all the antagonists of this story caught my eye lol. I didn't care for any of the villains in MDZS in terms of nuance (not that they were poorly written, but they just weren't the Type™ I fall for). But SV managed to get me to want to know more about all of them.

Bingqiu final assessment.... complete indifference. It wasn't as terrible as it could've been, and the extras did make it better, but idk. I flipped flopped a lot as I was reading regarding whether I was okay with it. The 50s chapters, no. Then it got better. Then chapter 80 happened and I was just.... it was genuinely painful getting through that chapter lol. I was constantly pausing and just.. collecting myself. Then the extras and I was like, hmmm it seems.. ok I guess. But I still think it's not the healthiest relationship. You can’t tell me his spiel in chapter 79 isn’t still a total guilt trip. Xin Mo exacerbates his negative emotions, it doesn’t make them up. He’s also constantly jealous even in the extras, making comments of suspicion on the slightest things and just wanting SQQ’s attention for himself. His whole world revolves around SY, and that’s just not a healthy thing for any relationship. It’s undeniably obsessive, and while I don’t see LBH acting on his jealousy, I think that’s only because “it’d make Shizun sad” and not because it goes against his morality. I think LBM is just as capable of doing messed up stuff (murder, torture, etc.) as LBG.

I also just feel like there's something that just doesn't connect between SY in the whole novel, and SY in the extras. By chapter 78 he still did not seem particularly reciprocative of LBH's advances. And even within the extras he's very no-touchy and anti-PDA. He tends to refuse LBH’s requests for intimate moments (until the crocodile tears guilt him into doing what LBH wants) and overall is easily embarrassed, like he's not confident in this relationship. I think at the least more lines of buildup should’ve been added, particularly in moments where it was just the two of them.

And you know what also kinda bugs me about it? I dislike how much the story pushed on that SY was confidently straight since birth. If you want to convince me that the initially ‘straight’/uninterested character ends up falling for another guy, just don’t push it so hard in my face contradicting that. Wei Ying flirted with girls, cool yeah. But the novel never gave the impression he was completely closed off to the idea. With how WY is written, I can totally see him being bi. But SY is more like, well I somehow ended up raising the ML as gay but hey that’s not so bad I guess, at the last minute. I can't say I ship LiuShen either, but I can definitely see the appeal when the canon alternative may easily not float your boat. Nothing beats Wangxian in my heart though 💕

As I expected, am sad with how the relationship with Cang Qiong Mountain ended up. I mean I guess it wasn't necessarily on bad terms, but basically his other disciples are left without their shizun and the sect's whole familial relationship is scattered. I guess it's because I appreciate Wangxian staying in the Cloud Recesses, having this space of theirs and the Jingshi that they can call home. I read the fanfics that have LWJ making WY a lotus pond out front and just their beautiful domestic post-canon life. I love that they can go out night hunting with the juniors. They can go out and travel, just the two of them, when they want. They could retire one day if they wanted. But they'll also always have a family to come back to. LQR begrudgingly accepting WY in time. The bread and butter that is Yunmeng bros reconciliation. Bingqiu.. doesn't really have anything like that. For instance, Liu Qingge and LBH are on terms that I don't feel could ever be recuperated the way WWX and JC could. I don't think Bingqiu could ever stay at CQM in complete comfort. So that's just a little sad.

Also is it just me who, when reading, would always imagine TLJ with short hair, even tho nobody ever has short hair in these novels lol.

Anyway lol, I think that about covers everything I can think of. If you got this far, you the real one ✌🏼

[mermaidenisaacs]

isaac went to college and became a fratboy, part 2

the aftermath of hooking up with isaac lahey at a frat party includes: shame, regret, and the stupid thrill of leaving him on read 

TW: sexual language, sexist language, some impure thoughts

I finally saw Isaac again. 

After a fire alarm interrupted my study session at the library (some idiot burned Poptarts in the microwave again), I was forced to evacuate to a nearby dining hall. I was annoyed by the whole ordeal until the hunger pangs kicked in. 

I was waiting in line for tacos when I saw him. He was sitting at a table by the windows, laughing with his head thrown back while another guy, presumably one of his frat bros, playfully shoved his shoulder and laughed along. He was surrounded by three attractive boys, one of which I recognized from my political science class last semester. I remembered him because he was unnaturally attractive, with swooped brown hair and warm chocolate eyes, and also because he had saved me from the embarrassment of forgetting to bring a scantron for the midterm by offering me one of his extras. His fratboy status aside, he was surprisingly decent. His name may have started with an ‘S.’ Steven maybe? Sam? 

I couldn’t focus on him for long, not when Isaac suddenly turned in my direction and met my gaze. I froze, caught in the act of staring. The corner of Isaac’s mouth tilted upwards into a smirk, and his gaze dropped shamelessly to my legs and drifted slowly back up, and in that moment, all the memories of our night together came rushing back. 

It was the first time I’d seen him since that night he had invited me to a party at his frat house, where he unceremoniously fucked me head-first into his bedroom door, then kicked me out, leaving me to retreat with my hair disheveled, makeup smudged, traces of him between my thighs. Anyone who wasn’t too drunk or high could piece together why I looked absolutely wrecked. I’m sure many girls had been seen doing the walk of shame out of Isaac’s room, and now I really was just one of the many, another notch on his bedpost. 

Isaac succeeded in living up to his fuckboy reputation. After that party, he texted almost every other midnight, snapchatted borderline nude selfies of his shirtless chest or his hand palming his erection over his sweatpants, with captions like “wyd,” “you up,” or “miss this?” That last one always sent waves of arousal, tainted with shame, reminders of the way I let Isaac degrade me and use my body, the way I loved every second of it and craved to feel it again. 

So far, I hadn’t texted him back, but I couldn’t resist leaving him on read. I smirked at the thought that Isaac might feel the sting of my cold indifference. It wasn’t much, and it was stupid, but it was the only power I could salvage back for myself. I avoided him in class too, and nearly gave myself leg cramps every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday to sprint across campus and get to class early so I could choose a seat far away from our usual spots. I sat towards the front, an area I knew he wouldn’t encroach in fear that the professor would see him dozing off during lecture. He even texted me dirty things during class to get my attention. It was taxing to ignore the distraction, but I ignored the buzzing on my desk, letting Isaac’s stare burn a hole into the back of my head. 

Eventually he got the hint and the texts stopped, and it left me with the somewhat bittersweet realization that we had reached the end of our… whatever it was. 

Or so I thought. Three weeks and one burnt poptart later, there he was, staring back at me with the knowing glint in his eyes that only comes when you’ve seen someone naked. 

The only available table in the dining hall was one near the windows, and I would have to walk past Isaac’s table to get there. With my tray in hand and my bag hanging off one shoulder, I steeled myself and walked in his direction. 

I hung my head, letting my hair drape my face from his view, but my attempt at hiding was useless. He called out my name anyway. I tried to continue in my path and pretend I hadn’t heard him, but he called my name louder. Begrudgingly, I stopped and turned around. 

“Isaac.” I said.

“So, she lives. I was starting to get worried. You never responded to my messages,” he said, subtly referencing his obscene attempts at luring me back into his bed. 

I rolled my eyes and smiled back tight-lipped. “I was hoping you’d take the hint and leave me alone, but clearly you’re too dense.” 

One of Isaac’s friends snorted loudly at my remark, the one I recognized from last semester. Isaac glared at him. “Sorry,” the boy said. “First time seeing a girl call you on your bullshit. I like her.” 

I smiled at him, bashfully tucking my hair behind my ear. “Um, I remember you, but I’m blanking on your name. Sorry,” I said to him. 

“No worries! I don’t think we were ever properly introduced. I’m Scott. We had political science last semester, right?” I nodded. “Yeah, you were the girl who forgot a scantron.” 

“Yes.” I chuckled in slight embarrassment. “Thanks for that, by the way. You really saved my ass.”

“Of course! I was happy to have an excuse to talk to the pretty girl who sat next to me all semester, even if it was just for a few seconds,” he said charmingly, flashing an adorable smile. I scoffed playfully at the compliment. His gentle flirting was a welcomed change from the texts I’d been receiving from Isaac, who I noticed was suddenly glaring daggers at me. “Hey,” Scott said, “since you’re here and you know Isaac, and now you know me too, why don’t you join us?” 

My eyes went wide and my mind blanked. I stuttered for an excuse. “Oh, th-that’s okay, I don’t want to intrude. Besides, there aren’t even any empty seats--” 

“Oh no worries, I got you.” Scott stood up and looked around, then approached a nearby table. He spoke a few words to the group of girls studying there, who giggled at something he said and nodded. Scott picked up an empty chair at their table and brought it over, proudly presenting his contribution. “There! Please, sit.” He gestured towards the seat and smiled at me so sweetly, I felt it would be rude to reject his offer. I nodded and gingerly perched on the seat. I set down my bag and my food, and cordially gave a tiny wave to all the other boys at the table, who exchanged knowing grins. 

~*~*~*~

Isaac couldn’t believe you actually accepted Scott’s offer to take a seat. 

Not that Scott had left you much of a choice. He had these big brown eyes that girls usually fell for. And then there was the way he so valiantly brought a chair over for you. Isaac chewed on the flesh inside his cheek, unable to plaster on his usual easy grin. He couldn’t help it, especially now that you were sitting with him and his friends, acting all cute and polite, playing the act of the good girl again. 

Normally, his pride would swell if he saw you act all prim and proper. He could bask in the satisfaction of being the only one who knew who you really were, what you really were. He knew your ticks, your kinks, what you looked like when you were coming apart all over his cock and begging him for more. 

He couldn’t enjoy that knowledge today, not when his friends were staring at you like that. To any outsider, they just looked three boys engrossed in chit chat, but Isaac knew better. Behind their friendly, clean cut facade, they were all thinking the same thing, and it was far from clean. Isaac didn’t care who his friends slept with, and on occasion they even passed around the same girls, those special ones who didn’t care who they fucked as long as they had a good time. 

But for some reason, the thought that any one of them, Theo or Liam, or especially Scott, laying a finger on you, made Isaac’s blood boil. Isaac tried to extract this ugly feeling, this primal possesiveness he couldn’t seem to shake when he saw another guy looking at you.  

Isaac somehow managed to keep his expression neutral as you giggled at something Liam just said. The kid had managed to endear himself to you already. He was young, and in the newest pledge class, but he was a quick learner. Isaac had taken a fondness to him and decided to mentor him, taken him under his wing and transformed him into his image. Liam’s arrogance and eagerness to prove himself was something Isaac remembered from his freshman year. What he didn’t expect was that Liam would hone Isaac’s techniques to make girls fall at his feet and use them on you.

You giggled again. “Oh my god, Liam, I can’t believe you did that!” Liam had just finished telling a story about the time he knocked over a TV trying to do a drunken keg stand. “You could’ve broken your arm or something. What were you thinking?” 

Liam shrugged sheepishly and grinned. “I don’t know. There was a girl I wanted to impress and she was older than me, so I just went for it ya know?” 

You smiled fondly at him. “That is adorable. How much older was she? And what year are you?” 

“She’s a senior and… I’m a freshman.” Liam looked down shyly and rubbed the back of his head, just like Isaac had taught him to. The lesson was to use your age to your advantage. Girls loved that cute shit. 

“Aww, Liam you’re so cute! And I’m sure she thought so too.” 

“You think so? That’s good. I’m kinda into older girls.” Liam bowed his head again and smiled, and Isaac would’ve been proud of how well he’d taught him, if only you weren’t on the receiving end of his little performance. 

Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be working. You hummed casually in response. “Hm, I know what you mean. My philosophy professor last semester was so hot. She was maybe in her late 30s, and I still have no clue what she went on and on about, but it was my favorite lecture of the day.” 

Isaac inwardly grinned at the way Liam’s accomplished smile faded at your unaffected response. 

Theo snorted. “You had a crush on your female professor?” he drawled. “That’s kinda hot.” 

“Is it? It’s not really that big of a deal. Haven’t you ever found any of your male professors attractive? I feel like the place is swarming with hot male professors.” 

Theo looked at you in amusement, with a twinkle in his eyes that Isaac was all too familiar with. It was clear now Theo had his sights set on you, and usually when that happened, Theo got exactly what he wanted. “Can’t say I’ve had time to think about the men around here. I’ve been a bit too distracted with the girls.” 

When Liam flirted with you, Isaac could manage his jealousy, since the kid was still mostly innocent, all talk and no real game. With Theo, all bets were off. He didn’t have an innocent bone in his body and he wasn’t afraid to let girls know, and they were always very happy to know. Isaac knew he himself had strayed far from purity a long time ago, but Theo was something else. Isaac preferred you choose anyone over Theo, maybe even Scott, who was Isaac’s closest friend, if it meant you would stay away from Theo. 

“So, I’m curious,” Theo continued. “How exactly do you know Isaac?” 

Isaac noticed the way your eyes widened the tiniest bit. “Oh, uh, we um, have a class together,” you said. Isaac could hear the nervous wobble in your voice as you spoke, and his lip curled up in amusement at the realization that you were nervous because you were thinking about him.

*

author’s note: i came across a google doc of a draft i wrote 3 years ago. a continuation of a fratboy!isaac fic that made people feel some kinda way. the fic, along with all my other fics, got zapped when my old blog got terminated. but since i found the draft and remembered how many requests i got for a part 2, here it is (kinda). 3 years later. i’m sorry. 

[broadstbroskis]

five times you shared a bed with your best friend plus one time you didn’t | matthew tkachuk

lol so @slimskjei-dy requested the prompt 16. We’ve been sharing a bed since we were little so why is this weird now? from a list i put out a couple days ago to write blurbs for and this spiraled out of control, so here’s nearly 4k.

one

The Tkachuk’s move into the house next door to your family the summer before you start preschool and at the ripe age of three, you are too young to have any idea what going with your mom to drop off “welcome to the neighborhood” brownies is going to mean for your future.

Really, it likely has more to do with the fact that “welcome to the neighborhood” brownies turned into a glass of “welcome to the neighborhood” wine between your mom and Chantal Tkachuk, which turned into a bottle of wine while you and Matthew played in the backyard with Brady’s chubby little baby legs trying his hardest to keep up. 

By the time Keith arrived home from a midday skate session, with your dad awkwardly following behind, babbling about how your mom had just planned on dropping something off quickly but was still missing, their friendship was basically cemented. Chantal and your mom did everything together. And your dads’ friendship didn’t take long to form after that. 

Which meant you and Matty were right there with them.

But neither of you cared. You’d settled quickly into a friendship, just like your parents had, where you’d play hockey with him and he’d begrudgingly play soccer with you, and you both pretended you had no idea what Brady was talking about when he ran to tattle that you were ganging up on him and not letting him play.

There’s countless pictures of the two of you growing up, getting into all kinds of trouble, but then also, of the quieter moments too. Sitting too close to the TV watching movies, eagerly waiting by the door for Keith to come home from a road trip with souvenirs, the naps curled up around each other in one of your beds. 

“The quietest twenty minutes of the day.” Keith continues to joke, anytime one of those pictures resurfaces.

two

You wince at the sound of glass crashing behind you and decide the best course of action is to keep moving forward with your mission to find Matthew. Whichever hockey bro of Matthew’s house this is can take care of that; it’s not your job.

Besides, the room is spinning from the cheap beer and booze you’d been drinking all night since the two of you arrived at this party, and you’re pretty sure it’s a bad idea to go near glass.

You find Matthew in the kitchen, with a few of his St. Louis hockey bros, a couple of them guys that you’re still friends with even after he’d left to go join the NTDP, as well as a few faces you don’t recognize. You slip up into their circle, sliding under Matty’s arm when it lifts to wrap around your shoulders, grateful for the solid body to lean against.

The room is really starting to spin.

“You okay?” He asks, ignoring whoever’s speaking.

“I don’t think I can go home tonight.” You admit.

He laughs. “Text your mom and tell her you’re staying with me. Big Walt and Chantal are at a tourney with Brady and Taryn; nobody’s home.”

“You don’t think she knows your parents aren’t home?” You scoff, but you’re already pulling out your phone and carefully drafting the text, making sure to avoid any spelling errors that might give your drunkenness away.

“Yeah, but she can’t prove what she hasn’t seen.” Matty winks at you and you roll your eyes.

“Is that what you told your mom after you left her a three minute voicemail at 3am last month?” You chirp at him, smiling at the instant laughter from the friends around you and accepting a fist bump from Luke Kunin.

That line of chirping continues for a few minutes, until Matty manages to turn it around on one of the boys, and then it dissolves into a free for all before they’re all just laughing at each other.

By the time the giggling ends, you’re about three seconds away from falling asleep on Matt’s shoulder, and it’s his nudge that wakes you. “You ready?” You nod, joining him in making goodbyes to your friends, and then following him out the door to begin the walk back toward your houses.

The fresh air does some good to sober you up and you feel marginally less dizzy by the time you and Matt make it to his room. He throws you a t-shirt to change into and you fall into bed after changing, waiting for him to join you, eyes shutting the second you feel the bed settle beside you.

three

The night before Matty’s due to leave for Buffalo for the draft, your phone buzzes with a text from him. You’re expecting more of the same that you’ve been exchanging all day with him-in various group chats with your friends, at a barbeque with both your families, when the two of you were chatting with Brady while you hid in the far corner with the beers you snuck while Taryn and your sister were off doing their thing.

It’s not. Let me in the text says, so you shove the blankets down and make your way downstairs to open the door for him.

“Shh.” You tell him. “They’re all asleep.”

“It’s 3am, of course they are!” He whispers back.

“Well so was I until you woke me up!” You start walking back toward your room, knowing he’ll follow.

Matthew doesn’t speak again until the two of you are in your room, the door is closed, and he’s lying on his side to face you in your bed. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“You can’t possibly be nervous.” You whisper back, knowing he’s talking about the draft. He shrugs and you reach your hand out to shove his shoulder down, allowing it to rest there. “Matty.” He blinks at you a few times as you think of what to say next. “You’re gonna go somewhere and you’re going to be great. One of these teams is going to love you enough to draft you and everyone after them is going to be mad they didn’t have the chance to and almost everyone before them is going to be mad they didn’t end up picking you and you’re going to go off to whatever city does and forget all about me back here.”

Matthew wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him so you move your hand from the top of his shoulder around to rub at the blade gently. “First of all, that’ll never happen. You’re stuck with me forever.”

You nod seriously. “Somebody’s got to put up with you.”

He pokes you in the side for that one and you have to bite your lip to keep in the squeal of laughter. “Second of all, almost? Almost everyone is going to me mad they didn’t pick me?”

“Leafs got first pick to get Auston! I just don’t think they’re going to regret that!” He pokes you again and you don’t manage to hide the squeal this time. “Matty! Everyone’s sleeping!”

“You should be nicer to me.” He tells you, once you settle down.

“I should be nicer to you? You wake me up at 3am to talk you off the ledge and I should be nicer to you?”

He nods, pulling you even closer to bury his face in your hair. “Always.”

You laugh, the sound muffled into his chest now. “Are we all good now?”

“Hmm?” He says, sounding sleepy already.

“Never mind.” You tell him, rubbing his back again. “Good night, Matty.”

“G’night.”

four

Calgary is a thousand times more incredible than you’d ever imagined. You’d been teasing Matty about being stuck in a frozen wasteland, sending him snaps from sunny gamedays at Mizzou and laughing anytime you get one in return with snow in the picture.

There’s snow on the ground when you arrive in December, fresh out of finals, and still feeling both the mental exhaustion from your exams and the hangover from a day of binge drinking with your friends immediately after they’d ended. You’ll never fly hungover again; the next time you do this, you’ll leave yourself a day of rest between exams and flying up to visit your best friend, since you know you won’t stop drinking earlier.

College is making you smarter already!

Matthew actually laughs when he meets you in the pick up lane, like puts his head on the steering wheel and has to hold off on driving. He gets honked at by the car behind him. “Your laugh is making my headache worse.” You whine.

“So I take it you don’t want the bottle of wine I bought for us to split tonight?”

You look over at him suspiciously. “What kind of wine?”

He laughs again, but softer this time. “Atta girl.”

It’s a red blend, a favorite of the two of you, but a much nicer one than you’ve ever bought before. You let out a low whistle as Matthew places the order for dinner. “Suddenly you’ve got some cash flow and Barefoot’s too good?”

“Hell yeah! Wait until you see what kind of vodka I got for us for Saturday.”

You perk up. “What’s on Saturday?”

“Party with the team before my parents come in.”

You laugh, accepting the glass of wine he pours for you. “You don’t think Big Walt would want to come to the party?”

Matty gives you a look. “I know that’s exactly what would happen and that’s why I told them to come Sunday.”

“Smart thinking.” You admit.

“See, who needs college?” He teases, which settles the two of you into your familiar teasing and banter while you wait for the food to arrive. 

It isn’t too long after dinner and Netflix that you and Matthew are heading to bed, pressing yourself as close as you can to suck up as much warmth that he’s radiating. “Fuck, your feet are cold.” Matty mutters as you giggle and press your toes into his calf.

“Haven’t you missed me?” You sling your leg over his for maximal toe digging, laughing when he jumps.

“I guess.” He says, but his tone says Absolutely.

five

“So what are your plans for after graduation?”Ashley, Sean Monahan’s girlfriend (and soon-to-be fiancee if Matty was to be believed) looks at you during a stoppage of play late in the third.

“God, don’t remind me.” You groan. You’d wrapped the fall semester of your senior year a couple days ago and then taken off to Calgary in what had become your annual post-finals trip. It’d be the last one you ever took, with your final semester of college looming over your head. 

Ashley grins. She’d become a close friend of yours over all your trips to visit Matthew, even flying down to St. Louis last season when the Flames were in town and spending a weekend with some of the other girls visiting you at school afterwards. “Just come hang out up here forever.”

You burst into laughter. “And live where?”

She gives you a look, like it’s the most obvious thing ever. “With Matt?”

“Oh my god, you’re serious.” It takes a full minute for you to recover. Play has resumed, there’s a minor scrum on the ice in front of the two of you but you barely even notice, too shocked by Ashley’s words.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because why would I ever?”

“Because you already do.” She says, with more patience than you’ve possessed in your entire life combined, and then laughs at the look on your face. “YN, what you two have is so special! To fall in love with your best friend at age three and still feel that way is amazing! If Sean and I can look at each the way you and Matt do after twenty years, we could only be so lucky.”

“We’re not in love.” You deny. “Matty and I-we’re just-we’re not.”

Ashley bites her lip, but doesn’t push it any further. “Alright.” She agrees, and thankfully, the game ends there, so you’re able to just gather your things with her and make your way down toward the family room to meet the boys.

But you can’t get her words out of your head as you and Matthew arrive back to his place and start getting ready to go to bed. You move around each other with a practiced ease, handing him the toothpaste before he even asks for it and accepting the oversized sweatshirt he passes to you, somehow knowing that you’re extra chilly tonight. 

Lying next to him in bed, the same way you have for nearly twenty years, suddenly feels suffocating. You roll onto your side, hoping for some room to breath, but now it just feels awkward; this isn’t how you sleep.

You sit up, ditching the sweatshirt. Maybe you’re just too warm. Lying back and pulling the covers back up does nothing to solve that problem, and actually, you’re shivering, so you sit back up and yank the sweatshirt back on.

“Could you settle down?” Matty mumbles, pulling you into his side the second that you’re flat again. His arm rests on your waist, thumb in the dip of your hip, a position it’s been in many times, but suddenly you think you’re having trouble breathing. You open your mouth to tell him this, but he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “Relax, just sleep.”

You don’t sleep a wink the entire night.

plus one

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Dylan, a good friend of both yours and Matthew’s, is usually one of the most upbeat people you know, so the sound of disappointment coming throughout your phone actually makes you wince. “YN?”

“I just-” You hesitate. You’d have to leave right now in order to get to St. Louis in time to make the Skills Competitions, and even then you might be pushing it, and things were still weird for you with Matty, as evidenced by how things were between the two of you when he came home for his short Christmas break. And things were weird. Everyone noticed- your families, your friends, Matthew. The two of you had spoken only once since, in the group chat where Matthew had texted an invite to your group chat to come home for the weekend for the All Star Weekend and you’d noncommittally responded wow that’d be awesome. “I’m super busy.” You finish lamely.

Dylan sighs. “Look, YN, I don’t know what the fuck is going on between you and Matt and I don’t really care. It’s not my business. But I know he’d really want you there no matter what’s going on and I know you’ll regret not going if you don’t.”

You close your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. He’s right. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Dyl.”

“Hell yeah,” Dylan cheers.

By the time you make it to St. Louis, you have to race to meet your friends in your seats and the cheer they send up is poorly timed, but it does make you smile. “Shitty seats.” You accept the bottle of Bud Light someone passes you.

Dylan laughs and points up to the giant platform next to you guys. “He’s going to be shooting from there in a while.”

“Alright.” You nod. “I guess this is acceptable then.”

It’s a good while before Matty and the rest of the guys participating in the Shooting Stars event start making their way up, but it’s nice to catch up with your other friends while you wait. If you got a big cheer when you rolled in, the one that goes up when Matthew walks by is deafening (and boostered by the friends of Brady’s that are sitting right behind you guys). The two of them look over at you guys, grinning already, and you see it in Matthew’s face when he spots you, the smirk softening a little and his eyes locking on you.

You’d read about moments where time stands still but it’d never actually happened to you until now. It’s like the crowd doesn’t exist around you, like you don’t actually need to breathe. The only thing that matters is the moment in time when your eyes meet Matty’s. 

And that moment’s broken by Brady shoving him forward. 

As you watch Matthew throughout the entirety of the last event, you know you’re screwed. You’ll get through this weekend, go back to school, and get over these thoughts by the time summer comes. Everything will be back to normal by the time you see Matty again.

In the meantime, you do your best to avoid him once the Skills Competition ends and you join everyone at the after party on the rooftop bar of the hotel. It’s easier than you think it would be to do. When Matty’s talking with some of your local friends, you find yourself catching up with both sets of your parents. When he starts making his way toward your parents, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You see him make a beeline towards the bar, so you dart off in the opposite direction, where Brady is talking with a couple of his Atlantic Division teammates and push yourself in between the height of him and Auston Matthews, which seems like a safe spot to hide.

“YN!” Auston grins, throwing his hands up in the air, in a drunken greeting that you’d love to be more lowkey.

You reach up and grab them, yanking them down. “Listen, I know it’s been a while since we’ve last hung out and all, and I know from the way you talk and dress and everything about you that this is a hard thing for you to comprehend, but I’m really going to need some subtlety from you.” Next to him, Mitch and Freddie burst into laughter. “Down low, boo. Down low.”

Auston is laughing as well and you remember that while the times you’ve spent with him have been few and far between, unable to visit Matthew as frequently during his time with the NTDP as you have been in Calgary, they’ve certainly been memorable...so moments like this are unshocking to him, to say the least.

They don’t even faze Brady, who’d grown up with both you and Matthew, and is merely looking at you with an entirely too familiar smirk and a raised brow. “What’s the subtlety for, YN?”

“Fuck off, Brady.” You flip your middle finger up at him quickly but it’s just enough time for the entire group of hockey players around you to pounce. You really should have known better.

“I knew something was up!” Auston grins.

“Nothing’s up.” You deny, very poorly.

“Really?” Brady grins. “‘Cause Matt’s like right there.” He points. “On his way here. So I guess if nothing’s wrong, you can-” He starts immediately laughing when you shove your way out of them.

You think you manage to lose your best friend by pushing through a large group of players and family from the Metro and Central divisions and throwing yourself out the door to the outdoor patio, which is mostly empty, despite the unseasonably warm winter St. Louis has been experiencing. You can see Brady, Auston, and Quinn laughing together through the glass door, but Matty’s nowhere to be found, and you sit down on the closest bench, taking a minute to just breathe.

“You gotta tell me what I did.” The voice scares you, but it shouldn’t, because you really should have known better than to think that Matty wouldn’t be able to find you.

When you look over at Matty on the bench beside you, you can’t think of another time he’s looked this devastated. Maybe that semi-final loss in World Juniors? Maybe? It’s all over his face and you can’t just leave him like this any longer. “It’s not you.” You tell him, holding back tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it!” Matthew says, frustratedly.

“You can’t fix it!” You sniffle, trying to scoot away from him, to give yourself some distance, and feeling the tears start to fall when he closes that space again. “You can’t go back and stop Ashley from making me realize that I’m in love with you, okay? So you can’t fix this and I just-I need some time, Matty! Okay? I need some time!”

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” He breathes, like he’s only just recovered the ability to talk, which, he might have, and you tilt your head to meet his eyes, which puts you in a perfect position considering he’s already leaning toward you.

Matthew fumbles for a second, his hand reaching for your cheek and catching your ear instead with you turning, but he recovers quickly, stroking gently down the side of your face. You gasp, the kiss entirely unexpected, and Matty takes the opportunity to tug on your lip gently before pulling away and you let out a whimper at the loss of contact.

He smirks.

“Don’t be smug.” You shove at his shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid.” He repeats, pulling you closer. “How could you ever think I wouldn’t be in love with you?”

“I didn’t want to ruin us.” You tell him softly. “But I am willing to concede I was wrong.”

Matty grins. “Sure were. Can do this anytime I want now.” He kisses you again, leaving you just as breathless as before.

You suppose, at some point, that’ll start to wear off, but as the two of you trade lazy kisses on the rooftop, you can’t imagine that point ever coming. This is perfection, this is the piece of your relationship you didn’t even know was missing coming together, this is-

-Brady knocking on the window?

What?

You blink again, realizing where you’re at. Still on the rooftop bench, with your arm wrapped around Matty’s neck, your legs draped over his lap, and your face tucked into his shoulder. Matthew’s arms are wrapped around your waist, holding you close, and his head rests on top of yours. Somehow still asleep through all the banging Brady’s been doing. 

“Matty.” You poke him awake.

“What?” He groans, sitting up.

“Brady.” Matthew looks over at the window, where Brady is still gesturing that it’s time to leave, with a very smug grin on his face.  Matthew lifts one hand off your waist to flip his brother off, allowing you to climb off. 

“You couldn’t have answered any of the texts we sent you?” Brady asks, once you step inside, but he doesn’t sound annoyed at all, still looking between the two of you with the biggest grin on his face.

Matthew shrugs. “Must have fallen asleep.”

“Bullshit.”

“You just saw us!”

Brady rolls his eyes, knowingly. “Just kiss her already.”

Matty grins. “Gladly.” And then he’s pressing a heated kiss against your lips, looping his arm around your waist, and it’s all you can do to grip his arm with one hand to keep yourself standing and flip off the crowd around you with your other as whoever’s left at this after party burst into applause and wolf-whistles.

[morbidmotive]

I've had the beginnings of an Animaniacs/Bob's Burgers crossover fic sitting in my docs for a LONG time, but I'm not sure if I should pursue it, so I'm posting the first two chapters under the cut so that I can if it's something anyone would read or not. (Keep in mind these are still only rough drafts)

Chapter 1

Inside the Warner Bros. water tower, Wakko and Dot were literally bouncing off the walls with excitement. Dr. Scratchansniff was going to New Jersey for a big counselling conference, ‘Council Con’, and he’d agreed to let the Warners come along if -and only if- they behaved themselves. The three siblings promised to be on their best behavior and so far - with the exception of typical excited child-like behavior - they had held up their end of the bargain.

“And we’ll be able to see above the clouds!”

“And we’ll get those little packets of pretzels!”

“And they’ll have those little trays that fold into the chair in front of you!”

“And our ears will get plugged from the air pressure and then they’ll pop when we land!”

“And we’ll get to stay in a hotel!”

Yakko sighed as he listened to his siblings excitedly jabber on about their plane ride the next morning. He couldn’t blame them for being excited, he was excited too - this was their first vacation, but he had gotten his excitement out in the weeks prior, and now he was focused on making sure the three of them were ready for the next day as his younger siblings rattled on and on and on about all of the things they'd get to experience during their first vacation. After an hour, their list hadn't made it past the plane ride, let alone the rest of the trip.

“Are you two all packed?” he interrupted, putting the last few items into his suitcase.

“Yes!” his siblings confirmed before going back to their excited chatter. Satisfied, Yakko zipped up his suitcase and wheeled it over next to Wakko’s and Dot’s luggage.

With a satisfactory nod at everything being prepared, he walked over to his siblings. “Okay, sibs, we should probably go to bed.”

"What?" Wakko whined in disappointment. He then ran to the tower door and threw it open. “But it's still light out!"

“Besides, we aren’t even tired yet! We’re way too excited to go to sleep now!” Dot agreed. “Please can we stay up?” Dot asked, clasping her hands together and giving her oldest brother her best puppy eyes. Wakko joined in too; between the two of them, Yakko was sure to give in! “Pleeeeeeaaaaaaase!?” they begged in unison as they slid onto their knees.

Yakko smirked. “Nice try you two, but it isn’t going to work. With as early as we need to get up tomorrow, I’m not going to want to try and drag you both out of bed and get you dressed in the morning.” As expected, he was met with two exasperated groans. “Think of it this way, sibs; would you rather spend the first day of our first vacation too tired to do anything, or, ahhhh, do you want to spend it having some fun?” Wakko and Dot were silent for a moment, but then begrudgingly agreed that Yakko was right. “Of course I am, that's why I'm the oldest," Yakko said with a triumphant smile. He took his sibling’s hands and pulled them to their feet before ushering them to the bedroom. “I know we’re all excited now, but we’ll be even more excited when we get there tomorrow.”

When they entered the bedroom the three siblings got changed for bed. Dot crawled into her bed as Yakko finished buttoning his pajama shirt. He then turned to Wakko, who was buttoning his pajama shirt very slowly.

Yakko sighed. "Wakko, hurry up."

The younger Warner brother groaned dramatically but did as he was told. Once he was done and had crawled into his hammock, Yakko turned off the light and collapsed into his ball-pit, seeking sleep.

They had a long day ahead of them.

Chapter 2

“And… GO!” Gene yelled, and he lifted the plank of wood that kept the crabs they were racing behind the starting line. The crabs began to scuttle down the racetrack they had drawn in the sand as the siblings cheered for them. Gene’s crab was taking the lead with Tina’s close behind, and Louise’s crab was trailing behind in last place.

“Come on, come on, I have a race to win!” Louise yelled, and her siblings followed in cheering for their crabs as well.

For a moment it looked as though Gene’s crab was going to win, but it then stopped and turned around before heading back to the starting line.

“No, Crabatha Christie, you’re going the wrong way!”

“Come on, Jennifer Crabniston, you’ve got this!”

“Pick up the pace, Pablo Escrabar, you’re so close!”

The three continued to cheer on their crabs as they scuttled in different directions, and in the end, Tina’s crab was the winner.

“Yes!” Tina exclaimed, “I win! I believe you two losers owe me five bucks.”

With groans of disappointment, Louise and Gene handed over the money.

“How dare you betray me like this, Crabatha Christie!” Gene said, looking over at his crab. “Aw, who am I kidding, I still love ya, girl.”

“Well I don’t.” Louise said, glaring at her own crab, “This is why you got caught, Pablo, THIS IS WHY YOU GOT CAUGHT!”

They watched as the crabs began to walk back to the ocean. “Well, there they go, back to their home," Tina said. "Speaking of which, we should probably head home too, it’s almost time for the dinner rush.”

“Oh yeah, Tina, it's such a rush.” Louise said sarcastically.

“I mean, you never know, stranger things have happened.” 

"For four seasons," Gene said.

Louise just groaned. "Fine, let’s go pretend to help mom and dad give Teddy his burger for the night."

…….

The Belcher kids walked into the restaurant and were surprised to see there were several customers inside, almost at full capacity. Their mom smiled over at them.

“Hey, you three!” She greeted excitedly. “So, who won the big race?”

“As a matter of fact, it was me.” Tina said with a proud smile.

“Aw, my little winner!” Linda said happily. Louise grumbled something about her crab losing on purpose to spite her.

Bob peaked through the serving window. “Hey kids, get washed up, it's time for the dinner rush and this time it actually is a rush.”

The kids walked to the back and washed their hands, and Tina grabbed her apron.

“What are all these people doing here, dad?” Tina asked.

“Isn't it great?” Bob asked excitedly, “Some people got food poisoning at Jimmy Pesto’s, so everyone came here instead. I mean, it's bad that someone got sick, but good that we get his customers.”

“That's the spirit, dad.” Louise said, heading out to the dining area.

“And don’t forget, we’re catering that psychiatry conference thing this weekend, you’ll need to be on your best behaviour. All three of you.” He then looked at his youngest child. “Especially you, Louise.”

“So does that mean that if we don’t behave we don’t have to go?”

“No, you’re definitely going.” Bob said, and went back to grilling the burgers.

Louise groaned. “Fine.”

“Who knows, Louise, it could be fun.” Tina said, trying to cheer up her younger sister. Louise scoffed.

“Yeah, Tina, I'm sure it’ll be sooo much fun.”

“It could be.” Gene said, walking out of the employee bathroom in his burger costume. “Maybe we’ll meet someone interesting and learn something; like how I just learned that I look even better in this burger suit with my pants off!”

“Gene put your pants back on!” Bob scolded. 

“No!”

“Besides, all those psychiatrists under one roof? Oh, I bet it’ll be like an episode of Frasier!”

“I love that show.” said a customer who was sitting in the booth next to Linda, and the two of them got into a deep conversation about the show while the kids were forced to go back to work.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 12

Click here if you are a first time reader.

Summary / TWs: Steve Rogers does not pass the vibe check yet again, le sad face. Loki is a good bro. Bruce fluff but what else is new? Literally everyone is a good bro, yo. Reader has best people. Tony's in there, kind of. Parents still suck.

For taglist: please send an ask if you changed your @! I noticed several people are unavailable :(

As always, my baby gay @miscmarvelwritings is the bestest beta!

"I think I am going to murder your father." Bucky's angry statement didn't surprise me. Neither did Steve's initial reaction, or anybody else's mostly pitying looks.

Bruce, my Bwucie, was calm and dejected. That worried me. I expected him to be at least a little bit green around the edges when Steve forcefully sat me down and made me explain the drunken, drugged stunt I'd done the night before, but alas, it seemed like Jolly Green was just sad. Or disappointed. And I didn't know which was worse.

The more I thought about it, the more defensive and abrasive I became. "And you'll kill yourself trying, he'll drive you fucking nuts" I responded to Barnes. "Honestly, I don't fucking see the problem here. My dad shows up five times a year at best. It's been like that forever. And it's not like I'm some kind of junkie," I defended myself, and my dad, because I really didn't see the huge deal about it. Relaxing once in a while doesn’t hurt anyone.

"It's not right!" Steve exclaimed, loosely banging a fist on the table. The self-righteous prick, seemed like he wanted to pick a fight just for the sake of it.

"And who are you, exactly, to say that? The moral police?" I blew up, standing and turning to the blonde man, hands on my hips. "Or you've decided to be my parent without asking me first? Keep your hopes up and maybe a fuck will magically appear, so I could give it to you."

He stood up in turn, getting uncomfortably close to my face. I was suddenly reminded of the fact that he was a very large, very strong man. "We want what's best for you! Can't you see it?" Rogers was getting red in the face, crossed arms, staring at me down like I was dirt under his shoes.

"How about..." I seethed, having to stop mid-sentence to swallow the scream that wanted to erupt. "How about... You FUCKING ask me what I want?"

"I suggest the Captain leave to go calm down," Loki suddenly piped up. He stayed silent throughout the whole conversation, picking at his food instead. Only after his sharply uttered words I noticed he had stood up. His hand hovered over my shoulder, body discreetly wedging between me and the Captain.

I heard Steve growl before he stormed off, throwing an annoyed look at Loki. A pregnant silence hung in the room. The longer it lasted, the more I wanted to crawl out of my skin, suddenly hyper aware of all these people - strangers, save a few - debating on what to do with me. Like I wasn't a person. Like...

"Ugh, fucking hell," I growled, beelining for my bag. I had definitely overstayed my welcome.

"Where are you going?" Bruce asked, standing up to follow.

"Home," I replied curtly, nodding my thanks to Loki for the intervention. He nodded back, walking off. I would have probably started swinging at the Icicle Dick if not for the raven haired Asgardian's timely interruption.

"I'll drive you," Banner trotted after me like a dejected puppy. I didn't have the mental capacity to deal with this, at all.

"I need to see Tony first. Meet you downstairs?"

Bruce nodded, looking even more confused.

Tony kissed me hungrily, in between promises to kill Steve and cancel my dad and get me my own apartment in the tower. Believing in fairy tales wasn't something I was ever prone to; I smiled, nodded along and did my best to shut him up with my own mouth on his. I left with the promise to text him as soon as I got home.

"How are you?" Bruce asked me as we once again drove through the busy city. This was becoming a nice habit but we really had to meet up when I wasn't going through another one of my turmoils.

"All things considered, I am great. Better than I've been in a while." I answered honestly, meaning it. However brief Tony's attention would be, it still satisfied me. Then and there I decided to always, always cherish what happened during my brief stint in his arms.

"Really?" Banner's warm smile was an unexpected but pleasant surprise. "Care to share?"

It threw me for a loop. I didn't know how much Tony wanted to disclose regarding what happened between us. I didn't know the extent of his friendship with Bruce. I didn't know...

"Tony," I choose the usual option. Admit what you can't deny, deny what you can't admit.

"I know the feeling," The good doctor chuckled, companionable-like and meaningful. "He tends to go all the way for the people he cares about. Too much, if you ask me."

"What do you mean?" I was confused. Sure, me and Tony were friends. But not, like, super close or anything. We'd fucked, or more like messed around, so I expected our friendship to grow colder. That's what happened when friends decided to bump uglies.

"I mean... He'll move mountains and challenge the government and bully them into dropping charges against you," There was a hint of sadness in Brucie's voice. I vaguely recalled seeing something on the news, something about the Hulk and a massive destruction spree. It didn't take long to put two and two together.

I reached out, putting a hand on his knee. He covered my palm with his own, giving it a brief, warm squeeze.

"It must be great having a friend like that. You're both wonderful and brilliant. You deserve no less," The smile threatened to split my face in two.

Bruce returned the smile but the sadness didn't go away. "You realize that extends to you, right?"

"Me? I'm just me, Bruce." I wasn't sure where this was going. "I'm Peter's classmate and the resident hot mess express."

Bruce frowned, deep and long, up until he parked. Life seemed to be taking back all the happiness it gave me previously-in fucking buckets. The strap of my bag was going to get its threads pulled out with the way I was fiddling with it.

"Baby… Princess?" The scientist turned to me, tone torn somewhere between stern and pleading. "Listen to me. You are brilliant. Incredibly smart, talented and beautiful. Don't ever, ever think of yourself as less than any of us." I gaped at him.

Did he mean us as the Avengers? Us as Tony and Bruce? Meanwhile he continued, "In fact, I think you are the one who deserves so much better. I don't know what Tony found in me… Or what you found in me."

Was the man an idiot or yes? That was the question of the day. Cursing Tony's affinity for small cars (bless me and my own SUV), I only hesitated a moment before grabbing the dumb Banner by his face and startling him into looking straight in my eye. "If you don't quit talking all that fake-ass bullshit, I will kiss you. On the mouth. With tongue."

"Uh," Was his articulate response. I watched him squirm, blush and lose the heat to his argument.

"Exactly. I've had it all with you idiots today. Next time someone says some stupid ass fucking thing, I will kiss them. On the mouth, with tongue. Pass it on," I exhaled, releasing his face and dropping my head onto his shoulder.

"Some way of solving conflict you have," Banner chuckled weakly, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "I'd like to see Steve's reaction."

"A boner, probably, because he needs to get laid before he spontaneously combusts," I grumbled venomously, still bitter about his reaction. The Capsicle needed to chill. Hehe.

"I'll pass it on too," Bruce remarked wryly. "See you next week?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Bwucie, you're the fucking best," I kissed the scientist on the cheek, giving him a tighter than usual parting hug and walking up the pathway. Home.

Mother was nowhere to be seen - and the obvious reason for that laid on the kitchen floor. Couple of smashed dishes, a bottle of whiskey laying half-empty in a puddle on the grey tiles. The living room rug bore more stains and the smell of alcohol, bitter and acrid (like my soul, hardy har), hung heavily throughout the whole house.

At least I wasn't the only one who fought for myself that day. Mother probably had landed a good one on dad, too, by God the woman could be ruthless with her icy words. Dad never stood a chance. I've felt begrudgingly respectful of the way mother put people in their place with her words ever since I understood sarcasm.

First things first, I cleaned up the mess and opened the windows a smidge, cranking the air recuperation system to the max. Hanging around a place that smelled like a bum on a good Friday night was a horrible way to spend free time. Having successfully cut myself and bandaged the cuts up, I retreated to my room, not wanting to spend more time than necessary in the quiet, stinky, creepy house that my home had become.

My phone was long dead so I plugged it in, waiting for the 2% to appear, turning it on. A few messages from Peter, first cheerful, then worried and then relieved. Tony must've placated the spider child and told him I was staying at the tower. Good call, Tones, or else poor Peter would've worked himself into an anxiety attack and crashed in a dumpster while patrolling. Or something. I still didn't quite get his spider-hero side-gig.

A text from Bruce - rather, a photo, of a disgruntled Steve with his eyebrows raised, titled "I told him the next time he freaks out, you will kiss him. With tongue. Barnes cackled for about ten minutes until he ran out of air."

And a text from Tony. My chest tightened when I opened it. "Good tactics. Sneaky, clever, I'd give it a B+."

I snorted. Then the phone beeped again and I froze. A text ordering me to be ready tomorrow, for a date night? Unreal. I was torn. A part of me was elated, thinking Tony wanted to keep me around like that. The other, more sensible part, was firmly telling me to chill TF down. He'll most likely kindly reject any further intimate interactions, maybe have me sign a few NDAs.

I still answered positive, mushy and cute and all. Feelings aside, I wasn't about to change my texting style for any man. My God, I was turning into a monster. A horribly cheesy, pink, soft, fluffy monster.

The next day, school was nearly unbearable. People talked. Not to my face, of course, since the rumours of me putting away Flash Thompson were still fresh enough for everyone to be cautious around me, but the whispers followed me throughout hallways, tongue in cheek remarks thrown at me from the bathroom stalls, behind the teacher's desks. Did I care? Nope.

Okay, I did, but not in the way one would think. The little spring in my step, a slight smirk. My thoughts were occupied with my upcoming dinner with Tony.

Peter and his pet nerds stood at my side, the ever watchful guards. I had no idea why they decided I needed reassurance or their comfort (I did not), but I had to admit it was cute. MJ, in particular, glared her Death Ray Stare at any male-identifying student that dared to as much as look wrongly in my direction. I mostly ignored the trio. Pete himself did a great job with entertaining his friends, he babbled on as usual, about everything and nothing in particular. Mouth ulcers. He was going to get them one day.

Dad called me during third period, saying he was flying off to California. I would have been lying if I said I didn't know why he scheduled the sudden trip; mother's total radio silence and the absence of her laptop in her own office spoke volumes about the state of my family's affairs. They had a fight and ran off to the opposite ends of the continent. I didn't understand why mother was upset with me, though. I saved her face during dinner at Tony's, so why is she mad about me going to a party with dad? Baffling woman.

Admitting the house felt like home when either of them were absent was hard. Or, perhaps, I felt nothing at all. Spending so much time around the Brady Bunch- the Avengers made me too soft for my own liking. It wasn't just Tony that lived in mind rent-free all the time now; there was Bruce, with his kindness, Bucky with his overgrown teenager attitude, Wanda with her wit and hair that smelled like cheap shampoo - seriously, I absolutely had to show her the benefits of decent hair products. That was just to list the few little quirks. There were so many people, all of them different and wonderful in their own way.

To summarize it, I was both happy for them and bitter for not having any of that to myself. Although it made me kind of glad I didn't have a sibling - looking after someone in the mess that mother and dad created would've been a nightmare. They say it's always a better place where we are not.

I went through a whole pack of cigarettes in a span of a couple of hours. Plagued by strangely melancholic thoughts, trying to push down the anxiety over my upcoming date, my choice of outfit proved to be a cumbersome task while in process.

Expensive but simple dress with spaghetti straps, in my favourite colour. That was the easiest part. A good base for any accessories. Would Tony like it? Would the press make outrageous comments?

Either way, it would. Dad's comments cut deeper than I probably realized it until now; in a sudden bout of self-awareness and a couple of mouse clicks later... Tony wouldn't care. Tony wears suits with sneakers. The Manolos flew back, towards my shoe closet, and a pair of Chanel trainers made their debut. A Hermes 2002 barely weighed down by my wallet, keys and phone. A nice coat, too, appropriately light and so very conceptual and fashionable.

I spent way too much time deciding on what to wear. A stern talking to, however, didn't help me, and I had to redo my make-up - the "nude", "all natural" look was one of the hardest to nail. Or so Marie Claire said. Whatever, my highlighter game was, as usual, on point.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01 @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway (it finally let me tag you)!

[angst-fairygodmother]

Idiot (Affectionate) ~ A Bad Samaritan Fic

CHAPTER FOUR: MAYBE

Pairing: Derek Sandoval x (fem)Reader Word Count: 3388 Rating: M - drinking/alcohol, making out, foreplay? (it’s not smut...but it almost is), canon-typical language, brief non-graphic reference to vomit A/N: aka how many near-misses and almost kisses can these two have Hopefully it’s not unclear, skips vs breaks...

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

“When did those two get together?” Riley asked, gesturing toward where Derek and Y/N sat facing each other on the floor, engaged in some sort of fierce, silent contest.

“They’re not,” Sean said with a shrug, so used to the pair pulling off on their own that he didn’t even notice anymore. He didn’t bother to mention that the only reason they weren’t was because they were both too stubborn to be the first to crack and admit it. 

“With the amount of eye-fucking going on over there, are you sure there’s not…”

“Lalala!” Sean cried, slapping his hands over his ears and making a face of disgust.

~

You glanced up, puzzled, as you heard your cousin’s exclamation. He was sitting with Riley, curled up together, being disgustingly cute. Only she had apparently said something he didn’t want to hear, and he was being childish about it.

“I told you I’d win,” Derek crowed.

“That’s not fair!” you whined, turning your attention back to him.

“You lost bro, just admit I’m right.”

“No. I’m not gonna do that. A staring contest doesn’t even make sense to settle this. Also Qui-Gon was objectively a better jedi than Obi Wan and that’s not debatable.” You punctuated your words by tapping the back of your knuckles in the curled palm of the other hand.

“You just like him better because he’s Irish. I can’t believe you’re defending the prequels,” he shook his head, as if ashamed of you. “Next you’re going to say that Anakin and Padme made sense!”

“No. Of course not! Young, hot, bearded Ewan McGregor was right there! Anakin had to turn evil before he got sexy.” You fought back a grin as your argument got more passionate.

“Let’s settle this with an arm wrestle,” he stated, face impassive and serious.

“What is that going to prove?” you voice rose an octave with your confusion and disbelief. 

“Nothin,” he said, dropping his voice low. “Maybe I just want an excuse to hold your hand again.”

You felt your face growing flushed and warm under the intensity of his smolder. 

“Smooth,” you muttered begrudgingly, not wanting to stroke his ego too much. “Fine. Clear the coffee table.”

~

“Are they arguing about Star Wars?” Riley asked incredulously, and Sean shrugged. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since the four of them spent any real time together, but this was the first she was witnessing the new, bizarre friendship between Derek and Y/N. 

“For now. They’ll cycle through at least four more topics before they come up for air. This one’s pop culture so the next should be…” he tapped his chin, thinking. “Health care reform? Which they agree on but find ways to shout anyway.”

As if on cue, the back of Derek’s hand slapped the coffee table, defeated, and Y/N started in on a furious rant about how incarcerating addicts and forcing them to quit was like slapping a bandaid onto someone who’d been impaled. 

“Looks like you had the wrong topic,” Riley said, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “But you were close. Do they...do this often?”

“Argue? All the time.” Sean shrugged. It never really meant anything. 

“So, how are we going to get them together?”

“No.” He took stock of the stubborn look on her face and grimaced. “Riley, no. I am not meddling.”

“Then you don’t have to,” she looked smug. “I will.”

-------

Seeing you coming, plates in hand, Derek rushed to hold open the door. You nodded in thanks, a small smile on your face.

“No one’s eating the carbonara tonight, bring the boys some carbonara,” you said, doing your best impression of Nino.

“I feel like we should be insulted that Nino only feeds us the food he thinks is going to waste,” Sean observed, accepting one of the plates.

“If you want to complain about free food, dawg, be my guest, but I am just going to be grateful for it, and our smokin’ waitress bringin it out to us,” Derek winked at you as he spoke, taking the other plate, and you rolled your eyes. 

“You know, the rest of us have to go to the kitchen if we want to eat, but you lucky ducks,” you shook your fist playfully and rolled your eyes, “get waited on.”

“And we appreciate it, Y/N,” Sean said earnestly. “You know we do.”

“If you’re not careful, I’ll start expecting a tip for this.”

Derek smirked, despite the pasta shoveled into his mouth, and looked like he was about to say something.

“Don’t,” Sean warned him, looking weary.

“If whatever you’re about to say is an innuendo, it dies or you do,” you scolded.

Derek stuck out his lower lip and pouted. 

“Nino also said to tell you to prepare for a rush in about fifteen, and then you can clock out early. One of the sous chefs got sick everywhere so we have to shut down the kitchen. Your plates were among the last to make it out alive.”

“Has he got the flu or something?” Sean asked, casting a suspicious eye at his dinner anyway.

You rolled your eyes. “No. But did you hear that whiskey’s a clear liquor now? Nino’s not impressed by the magic trick.”

Derek laughed. “How stupid can you get? Call Riley up, dawg. Let’s do something.”

“He has a point,” you said, shrugging. “As much as it pains me to say.”

“Like what?” Sean asked skeptically.

“We’re young and gorgeous, well most of us are,” you smirked and made a so-so gesture at Derek, “and it’s a Friday night in Portland. I’m sure we can find something to do.”

You glanced down at your outfit. “When you call Riley, see if she’s got something less...uniform-y I can borrow?”

~

“When I said not my uniform, I expected to still be wearing clothes…” you hissed, holding up the dress Riley had brought you skeptically. It was so short and so low cut, you weren’t sure it wasn’t split completely down the middle. 

“It’ll look great on you, Y/N, trust me,” she implored, ushering you toward one of the stalls to change. “And I guarantee a certain someone won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grumbled, cheeks flushing hotly, giving in to her persuasion. 

A few minutes later, the pair of you were walking back out of the restaurant, and you shivered as the evening air hit your exposed skin.

“Well, shall we get going?” you asked, catching Derek and Sean’s attention. 

Derek’s jaw dropped as he turned and caught sight of you, in a way that would have been comedic if it had been directed at anyone else. 

“You’re staring,” Sean hissed through clenched teeth after a moment of awkward silence.

“Uh, yeah I am. Daaamn,” Derek muttered, looking you up and down appreciatively and letting out a low whistle.

You almost turned on the spot and fled, maybe back inside to change or maybe across the country to assume a new identity you weren’t quite sure, but Riley’s hand on your back stopped you. 

“This is a...different look, for both of you,” Sean observed, choosing his words very carefully. “It’s good,” he leaned in toward Riley with a smirk, “really good.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically as the two of them met in a kiss, thankfully only brief, before cuddling into each other as all four of you started walking. You fell into easy step with Derek behind your cousin and his girlfriend. 

“They’re insufferably cute together,” you muttered, making him laugh. 

“D’ya think maybe you’re jealous?” he teased.

“Of Sean?” you pretended to think it over before shrugging. “Not really. I mean Riley’s pretty but she’s not really my type.”

“I meant cus they’ve got someone. Ya know, to be cute and shit with.”

“Is that something couples do when they’ve been together a long time? They shit together?” You fought to keep a straight face long enough to deliver your question.

His face screwed up with disgust even as he laughed. “That’s not what I meant! You know it’s not!”

“Do I? You seem to think you know a lot about what I know.”

“Alright, I get it. I know when my question’s bein dodged. I can take a hint.”

“Not all of them,” you muttered under your breath, before flashing him a smile and changing the topic for the rest of the walk. 

~

“A gorgeous creature like you shouldn’t languish by the bar,” the goateed hipster said, laying on the alleged charm heavy, and you fought a roll of your eyes. “You should be dancing.”

“Maybe I’m waiting for the right partner,” you shot back, leaning away from him as he leaned in, closer than he needed to be to be heard.

“So do you want to dance?”

“Nope. I’m still waiting.” You collected the drink that had just been served to you, waiting to see if he was clueless. 

“What?” he frowned in confusion. 

“I’m not interested in you,” you whispered dramatically, as if you were revealing some great secret to him.

“Whatever,” he scoffed, moving on down the bar to the next girl. 

~

Derek watched the exchange from the booth, glowering and trying not to grip his beer too tight. Sean shook his head, leaning over to his friend.

“He’s not her type,” your cousin said, making his best friend frown. “Don’t be stupid tonight, Derek.” 

It was the closest Sean had come to giving his friend advice when it came to you, and the most reassuring thing he could have done. It wasn’t quite approval, but it was enough to tell Derek that pursuing the girl he wanted wasn’t going to cost him their friendship. 

When you returned to the table, Derek impulsively caught your wrist lightly as you set your drink down.

“Dance?” he asked, tilting his head. 

You were grateful for the low lights around you so he couldn’t see your facial expression, and you couldn’t see Sean and Riley’s.

“I’d love to,” you smiled, biting your lip. 

“Perfect,” he breathed, sliding out and leading you out onto the floor. 

As soon as you found a spot in the crowd, it was like a switch flipped. There was no awkwardness, no questions or doubts, just the two of you, moving together. If someone had asked you about it later, you would say it was the alcohol that made you drape your arms around his neck loosely, made you press close as his hands circled your waist.  His hips shimmied and swayed, clearly not his first rodeo, and you couldn't help tracing the patterns they drew in the air as you tried your best to keep up.

A hideously pop-y song started and you rolled your eyes, inclined normally to abandon the dance floor until something else came on. And then you realized that Derek was singing along, his voice rumbling through you where your chests touched. His eyes bore down into yours, like every lyric was meant for you, and somehow they immediately became your favorite. 

“Is there anything you can’t do?” you mused, as you both paused later to get another drink and catch your breath, leaning close together on the bar.

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“You sing, you clearly know how to dance based on those moves. You managed to make me...not hate that song. Plus you’ve got that whole sweet, funny, charming thing…you’re kind of the whole, perfect package...” you grumbled sulkily.

“I don’t know how to juggle?” he offered, smiling.

You snapped your fingers. “Well damn. That’s a dealbreaker. Guess you don’t have a shot after all.”

Just then your drink arrived and you accepted it gratefully, marvelling at the bartender’s perfect timing for the second time that evening. Holding eye contact with Derek, you smirked slightly, sipping your cocktail through the straw, and then turned to head back over to Sean and Riley.

“Wait, what’d you just say?” he said, chasing after you despite having not gotten his own drink yet.

“I think you heard me.

“So if I knew how to juggle…”

“Maybe I might let you do more than make up lame excuses to hold my hand,” you leaned to purr the words in his ear, pausing long enough that if he just turned his head your lips would collide. 

But he didn't turn. He froze, considering the implication of your statement, watching your retreating back (wonderfully sexily bare in that dress). Then he went back to the bar and pulled out his phone while he waited for his beer, typing into the search bar ‘easy juggling tutorials.’

-------

“I’m a moron,” you moaned, throwing your arm across your face. “I’m a failure.”

You let your memo slip from the other hand and flutter to the floor beside Derek. He picked it up, trying to ignore the scant inches between your faces as you hung off the side of your bed dramatically.

“Girl, this says you got a C. That’s not failing,” he pointed out, eyes skimming the myriad of red ink marks. 

“Do you know what a C means in law school, Derek? It means, ‘your work is shit, and we gave you pity points to keep you from dragging the class average down.’” You sighed. “I should just drop out. I could probably become a fishmonger. I don't know what they do but it's probably not write research memos.”

“I got you a job in the feesh factory.” he said in an exaggerated (and terrible) Russian accent.

You lowered your arm to peer incredulously at him.

“It was the first thing that came to mind, thought it would cut the tension,” he said with a shrug.

“Did you just...you’re trying to cheer me up by quoting a Disney movie at me. In my time of crisis?”

“Technically Anastasia’s not owned by The Mouse.”

“You’re adorable.” You drawled. 

Color crept over him, staining the tips of his ears pink. You studied him carefully, and eventually he squirmed under the scrutiny.

“It was my sister’s favorite movie, so we watched it a lot. Stop judging.”

“Not judging. Yet. You have some knowledge, apparently, but the real test: The Genie or Batty?” 

“That’s a joke right?”

You rolled over onto your stomach, propping your chin on your hands as you waited for an answer.

“Ferngully was the real shit. I could probably still do the rap if I tried.”

“Okay.” You looked at him expectantly and he frowned. 

“What?”

“Go on then. Sing it.” You gestured toward the center of the room with one hand, like it was a stage you were directing it toward.

“Do you have the music? I can’t sing without accompaniment.” 

“Who do you take me for?” you asked, smiling and pulling up the karaoke track version on your phone. 

A minute later, you paused it, cutting him short with a click of your tongue.

“That’s not how it goes,” you said certainly. 

“Yes it is,” he argued.

“No. The next lyric is ‘vivisectified and fed pesticides.’ You skipped part of it.”

“It is not! Just cus your big lawyer brain has some weird thing where you have to add fancy words to understand somethin…”

“How dare you!” you gasped, scandalized. 

You continued to argue back and forth and around in circles for several minutes, neither of you willing to stand down. At some point, you had pushed yourself up, kneeling on the bed to tower over his still sitting form on the floor. Then he stood up, making him the taller one again. Your faces were so close you could practically feel each other’s breath as you devolved into “Did not!” “Did too!”

Suddenly, you gave into nearly omnipresent impulse, grabbing him by the edges of his half-zipped hoodie and dragging him closer, closing the distance between you. You didn’t give yourself even a second to think, or overthink, and crashed your lips together. He made a muffled, confused noise, before meeting your fervor, reaching up to cradle the back of your neck in his hand and holding you close. 

“Are you going to admit I’m right?” you muttered teasingly when you broke apart a moment later. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, eyes fluttering open and clearly not fully processing what you had even said. 

“Good,” you answered, kissing him again before he could reconsider. 

His free arm wrapped around your lower back, and you slid yours up across his shoulders lazily. As your kiss was deepening, you felt the world tilting, the pair of you falling backwards onto the bed. You gasped, mouth opening and giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. Like everything else between you, it became a battle, as you pushed back and twined together. One of your legs hooked around his. His hand on your back began to explore, sliding out from under you to toy at the hem of your shirt. 

You drew back, head pressing into the pillow to look at him. His pupils were blown wide, parted lips kiss-swollen and red. His entire expression burned with desire that you were pretty sure was reflected back on your own face. 

“Fuck it,” you breathed, reaching down to tug the garment over your head. 

“Shit…” he whined, looking down at your bare chest, swallowing nervously.

“You don’t have to just look,” you offered, suddenly nervous at being so vulnerable beneath him. 

“But I wanna look, just for a sec. You're...I've never seen someone so beautiful.” 

“You're just saying that cus I got my tits out.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No I'm not.”

You felt your face heating and fought the urge to cover yourself back up. He bent to kiss you again hungrily, the hand at your neck fluttering downward, tracing the slope of your neck and curve of your collarbone before sliding over your breast. He squeezed softly, as if testing the waters and you bit back a moan, and then he began to massage and knead it. 

He drew back again, leaving you panting as he tossed aside his jacket and shirt, kicking off his shoes and shifting so you were both more comfortably centered on the bed.

“Derek,” you whined impatiently when you caught him staring again.

He looked down at you, surprised by the sound, and you cocked an eyebrow. He answered with a smirk and then his face disappeared between the mounds of your chest, kissing a trail along your sternum, circling under first one and then the other. He was teasing you, and it felt like bliss. 

It wasn’t long before he had you writhing beneath him, gasping out his name and the occasional explicative in time with each pass of his lips over your nipples, sucking and nipping at them at seemingly random. Your head felt fuzzy and you could feel the gathering fire at your core.

You toyed with the waistband of his boxers, thinking about how little now separated the two of you, how maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to remove those barriers. After all. You knew Derek. You were attracted to Derek. You trusted Derek to take good care of you, to do what you wanted and only that. And you wanted him to do so much. 

Before you could reach a decision, your phone started going off, humming distractingly across the floorboards where it had fallen.

He sighed as you groped blindly around for it, not wanting to move out from under him for fear that it would break whatever spell you were in.

“I’ll just turn that off and…” you promised, sheepish smile morphing to an expression of panic when you saw that it was Riley calling. 

“Fuck! It’s Thursday! I was supposed to meet her for coffee twenty minutes ago,” you groaned.

“I’m not going to be able to convince you to play hooky, am I?” he asked, defeated. 

“I’m sorry…” you grimaced.

“Rain check then?”

“I don’t think it works like that. But...maybe,” you answered, tone making it clear that maybe didn’t mean maybe.

He laughed, rolling off of you and sitting up to find his clothes.

~

“Vivesectified,” you whispered in his ear, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek at the doorstep, bouncing away down the steps before he could retaliate.

[beetlegoose01]

Frostbite Chapter 5- Toxic

AN: Happy Friday y’all! Here’s a longer chapter to celebrate! It’s a little intense, but I hope you enjoy.

~~~

Morning came sooner than any of the turtles anticipated, but especially to Donnie who was running on three hours of sleep. He counted on snoozing for another twenty minutes before training, but luck wasn't on his side. Even before his own carefully crafted alarm clock robot beeped, a loud voice woke him.

"Donnie!" came Michaelangelo bounding in with the energy of a golden retriever puppy. He bounced on the crooked bed with a loud creak of movement.

He groaned, still half asleep and bleary. "I'm sleeping, Mikey."

His baby blue eyes sparkled with mischief, prepared to annoy his older brother with his charming, but obnoxious grin. "No you're not. If you were asleep, how could you be talking to me?" He poked Donnie's head playfully. "Duh. I missed you, bro." He lay flat on his back, taking up most of the space and nearly smacking Don in the face. "It was like peanut butter without the jelly. Batman without Robin. Raph without Chompy! Elphaba without Gali-"

Rolling over, Donnie sat up begrudgingly. "I get the point. But you saw me last night." He stated obviously. "Remember?"

He scrunched his nose thoughtfully. "That was forever ago! And you were all cooped up in your lab for most of the time. We never hang anymore. Like, doing fun stuff."

"I guess you're right about that." He shrugged. "Sorry, I promise we'll hang out again sometime. Maybe tonight?"

"Dude, that's gregarious!" He looked immensely proud that he used a big word, even if it was used incorrectly.

"Uh...close."

"We can have pizza, play video games, ooh! Have a monster movie marathon!" He exclaimed, listing each activity on his stubby fingers. 

"That sounds great."

"Come on bro, I'm making everyone breakfast! So you better hurry before Raph hogs it all." Mikey leapt off the bed, springing into action. Most likely the kitchen. 

It took a good five minutes for Donatello to physically move out of bed. He wasn't one for sleeping in, but he was never opposed to it either. Whereas Leo was always awake in the early morning and Mikey was chipper no matter what. And Raph...well, Raph was Raph.

The kitchen was bustling with energy, at least from Mikey's angle. He was cheerfully serving up omelettes on plates, carrying the ones he couldn't hold on top of his head with the balance of a ninja. Mikey had a talent for making even the fouled stench of the sewers comfortable and hospitable with only his charm and sweet demeanor. Not to mention his excellent cooking skills.

"Omelette au fromage made especially for Master Splinter." He said, passing the first plate to the wise rat. "Fromage means cheese in Spanish!" He explained. "Or...one of those languages."

"Thank you, Michaelangelo."

"Looks delicious, Mikey." April complimented, still residing in the lair. It was an hour or so before school, so she enjoyed having breakfast with the brothers. It felt as though she was part of their little family.

"Eh, don't forget me! I'm starved." Raph complained, eagerly stabbing his food with a fork as he dug in. Smiling softly, he cut up neat pieces for Chompy Picasso.

"Where is Leonardo?" Splinter glanced around the kitchen, noticing the blue masked turtle seemed to be missing.

"I thought he was mediating still." Raph said, puzzled.

"No, he wasn't." said Mikey. "I checked." He looked innocently at his brothers and April. "I made a plate of food for him and everything! Now it's gonna get cold." He looked down glumly.

"Maybe he's still asleep?" April suggested.

The three youngest turtles shook their heads in unison.

"Leo's always the first one awake. It's weird that he isn't here." Raph lifted Chompy onto his shoulder. "Not that I mind. I like the peace and quiet and lack of Space Heroes references to start my morning right."

"Donatello, perhaps you should check your brother's room?" Splinter suggested, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "It is possible he is still resting or feeling unwell."

"Hai Sensei."

April, sensing his apprehensiveness, stood up and rested her hand on his shoulder. "It'll be alright. I promise."

Feeling comforted by her warm tone, Donnie nodded firmly, and left the kitchen with high hopes that Leo was just snoozing longer than usual.

Something wasn't right. Donatello knew this, deep down, despite his optimism. His worry was growing the closer he moved to Leo's room, silently praying that everything would be alright. Raising a shaking hand, he opened the door.

He breathed a sigh of relief. There Leo lay in a deep slumber, even snoring lightly. It felt awful to simply wake him up, but he didn't really have a choice.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." He murmured, patting him. "Training time."

Unexpectedly Leo retracted his head into his shell, snoring even louder. This was beyond unusual- heck, even out of character. Leo was always extremely punctual and neat, refusing to be late for any training session.

"Why are you so tired?" Donnie wondered aloud. "We went to bed at the same time..."

Leo yawned, sluggishly moving forward out of his shell and stretching. "M' awake." He blinked. "Were you talking to me?" The blank expression that he gave was enough to cause further anxiety.

"Yeah? We have training."

His eyes widened. "Training! Oh, sewer apples!" He stumbled out of bed clumsily. "I'm here, I'm-" He yawned again. "Awake."

Donnie frowned, trying to analyze why Leo was so exhausted. Sure, they went to bed fairly late, but they've gone to bed later before and Leo hadn't been nearly as tired as he was now. But he wasn't about to start an argument either.

"Right."

Training was...awkward to say the least. Leonardo, who was usually extremely precise and swift with his movements, was now sloppy and uncoordinated. Everyone seemed to notice, but no one made a comment until Mikey had successfully pinned his oldest brother to the ground after a Barai.

"Booyakasha!" Mikey cheered. "I did it!"

"Yeah, because Leo barely put any effort into it." Raph said smugly, holding Donnie in a headlock.

"Yame!" Splinter commanded.

Dropping Donnie casually, Raphael glanced at their sensei with a bored expression on his face.

April, looking uncomfortable, placed her tessen back in her bag. "Class starts soon. I should probably get to school." Turning to Splinter, she smiled. "Arigato, Sensei. See ya later guys."

Splinter nodded. "Excellent work, April."

Leo groaned, rubbing his back. Humiliated, he bowed miserably.

"Leonardo, I think it would be best for you to rest."

"Arigato Sensei." He replied gratefully.

Raph crossed his arms. "That was pathetic. Even for you." He sneered. "Sorry we can't have you leadin' without your little nap time. Should I tuck you in too?"

He glared. But he didn't seem to have the energy to argue.

Donnie watched him leave, a pensive look on his face.

~•~

April found herself trudging to school, regretting leaving the lair after remembering she had a math quiz that she forgot to study for. Funny how she'd rather be in the sewers over a classroom.

A long time ago she craved a normal life, but now she loathed it.

Though there wasn't much normality in crushing on both a deranged hockey player and a mutated turtle. With the Kraang, mutants still running rampage- her life was destined to be abnormal.

She placed her bags away in her locker, sighing loudly. The bell was about to ring, and she hadn't seen any sign of Casey. She had been hoping to chat with him at least a little bit.

"Hey April!" A pretty girl with afro puffs came towards her, beaming.

"Hi Summer," She breathed, tension breaking at the sight of her friend. Well...not really friends. But they were friendly, and that was good enough. "How was your weekend?"

"Fine." Summer said. "Very productive. The yearbook committee is in full swing!" Glancing at her quizzically, she giggled. "Are you okay? You seem a bit distracted."

"Hm? Oh yeah, I'm fine. Listen...have you seen Casey?"

Summer, who was fairly popular and seemed to know everyone at the school thought for a moment. "Casey Jones? Senior?" After April nodded, she shook her head. "Nope, I don't think so. Sorry, I know you two are close."

April felt herself blush. "It's complicated."

"Don't I know it. Come on, it's time for homeroom."

Her mind wandered throughout the day, wondering how she could possibly concentrate on physics, when the growing uneasy feeling in her stomach.

It was all going to be alright.

Convincing Donnie was one thing. But convincing herself? A totally different problem.

~•~

Instead of going to sleep as he was instructed, Leo found himself topside again. The sun was setting a beautiful peach orange color over the skyline of smoke. Teenagers roamed the streets, and he swore he caught April with a group of girls chatting animatedly about something. He smiled, happy she was having fun and some resemblance of a normal, mutant free life.

He felt like a lousy leader. Hell, a lousy brother. Sneaking out like a kid, over some girl? A gorgeous mutant girl...but still. Without even telling his own brothers, let alone father where he was going.

There was that annoying feeling. Guilt. But...he was making the right choice. By getting his siblings involved, it would only lead to trouble.

"Leonardo..." That sultry voice cooed from behind.

"Nova." He gasped, releasing his katanas back in their holders.

"Sorry I'm late, my darling. My sleep schedule has been quite difficult."

He cringed.  "Don't call me that. But, it's okay."

She curled her muscular tail around his waist comfortably. "My apologies." She slithered beside him, golden eyes meeting his ocean blue ones. His heart rate increased.

Changing the subject, he smiled easily. "Have you reconsidered my offer?"

"I have. My hunger has been satisfied for now, but that won't last long."

"What have you been eating?" Leo looked at her wearily, afraid of the answer.

"Shh...that isn't important." Lifting his chin gently with her claws, he melted at the touch.

"If you say so." Leo hugged his knees, then grazed her gnarled scales, admiring their shimmering form. Her claws brushed against him casually and he winced.

"Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's...okay. It didn't hurt. I promise."  They were faint. Surely no one would notice.

Relaxing, she nuzzled him. "Good."

Her eyes were big, wide. The moon reflecting in her pupils made him move closer. Then he stopped.

"This is a bad idea." He said, taking his hand back. "I barely know you. Maybe...you should meet my family first? Or get to know each other? This is happening so fast I-"

"Soon." She vowed. "I trust you though. I think."

"I think so too." He uttered, soft lips pressing against hers. If this was wrong, why did he feel so right? Why did he feel so shaky, yet so bubbly inside.

This was one of his worst decisions. Why wasn't he stopping? He didn't know her. He didn't-

"It's a pretty good bad idea, isn't it though?" She smirked, stealing another tender kiss.

All he had to do was say no. That he couldn't put his family in danger.

Just say no.

Don't make the same mistake.

But he didn't want to.

"God yes."

~•~

His head felt foggy and tired, he hadn't gotten any closer to convincing Nova to stay but...he was alright. Leo hadn't had a chance to retreat to his bedroom before he was cornered by his taller brother. He hid his grimace with a forced grin.

"Donnie, I don't have time for this. I've got..."

"This'll only take a minute."

"Alright. What's up?"

"Did you really have trouble sleeping last night?" He asked, then jumped to a stronger conclusion.  "Or...did you not go to sleep at all?"

"Don't be stupid, Don, of course I went to bed." Leo said. "I just..." He raised his left arm casually, and his younger brother once again caught the scars littering. Worse, they looked fresh.

"Your arms..."

Leo flinched away. "It's nothing."

His dark eyes narrowed.

"Donnie?"

"You're lying, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Leo brushed him off, but Donnie wasn't about to give up. He grabbed a hold of his forearm, pulling him back, though Leo was unaffected by the sudden jerk of movement.

"What happened to your arm?" Donnie demanded bluntly. "And tell me the truth this time."

"Donnie, I'm really tired. I...just want to meditate for a spell. We can talk later." He hadn't meant to sound dismissive, but his tired tone and increasing frustration made it seem that way.

"How much longer are you going to keep avoiding us all, Leonardo?" Donnie asked weakly.

Leo hastily moved his arm out of the way. The hostile motion made Donnie recoil.  "I'm not."

"You keep shutting us all out. We aren't naive. We know you're stressed, but we're a family. We can help.  Don't you see? First with Karai, now..."

"This is nothing like Karai." Leo blurted out. "Nova isn't like her." When Donnie looked confused, he elaborated. "That's her name. The mutant."

"She did that to you." He said, referring to his injured arms. The dots were slowly connecting.

Silence. "Not on purpose."

"You told me you were going back to bed. You promised! And you went out and tried to fight that dangerous mutant alone? Are you crazy?"

"I was trying to protect you!" Leo snapped, temper rising, though his voice still felt oddly robotic. "It wasn't done out of a whim. I didn't try to find her for fun. I was protecting you and the others."

"By lying to us? Your family?"

"Fighting her was not an option. I wanted to persuade her to join our side. She wasn't too dangerous, just scared. And I didn't lie, I did go to bed. Just not when you did."

"Do the others know?" He was mainly referring to Raph, who he knew would be as furious as he was. Maybe even more so. Mikey would have been heartbroken had he knew that Leo was going behind their backs.

"No."

"Why? We could have gone together." 

The thought of Donnie watching Leo and Nova's last encounter made him blush profusely in horror.

"If we had gone as a group, it would have ended horribly. I needed to talk to her alone. I think..." He paused. "I think she's starting to trust me." His cheeks felt suddenly hot. He didn't want his brother to know that he had been out again, though this time with no moral intentions involved. The less Donnie knew, the better.

"Trust you?" Donnie repeated in disbelief. "You barely know her."

"You barely know her."  Leo retorted.  "You haven't even seen her. What could you possibly know?"

Those careless words set Donnie's rage into flames. "I know that you're my brother and she's hurt you, quite obviously!" Furious tears filled his eyes. "If you just listened to me- if we had a chance to go as a team, maybe she would have joined us. Willingly!" He took a deep breath. "I know what it's like to care about someone." His mind brought up sweet April, then the smirk of Casey Jones. "But it's so risky to do this. You've got to think logically. You're the leader."

Regret was hidden in his deep blue eyes, but he masked it with a scowl. "I didn't ask for this burden, to be lectured. Logic- inventions, all your science-y bullshit won't help us now. So stay out of my way. I know what I'm doing." The tone of his voice, mixed with his expressions were jarring and cold. Unlike the older, wiser brother Donatello had grown to admire as a hero.

Stunned and hurt by the harsh tone, Donnie blinked, taking a step back, as if he feared him.

Leo's eyes widened, immediately realizing his mistake. "Wait, Donnie I didn't mean-"

"Fine."

"Please, just let me-"

But as his older brother had done so many times before, Donnie dismissed his desperate pleas, stormed by him as the words flooded out of his ear slits and away from his mind.

 ~•~

The second Donnie climbed out of the manhole cover, he realized he had no idea where he was going. He knew the city by heart, sure, but he was never one to go topside for emotional reasons. Usually he locked himself in his lab. Now...he didn't know what to do or where to go. Each direction felt wrong. And the increasing feeling of wrongness calculated by the feeling of dread equaled an equation he didn't quite understand.

"I don't even know where to go..." He groaned. "I'm such an idiot." Wiping his tears, adjusting his staff, he kept walking the unknown direction, hoping to find an answer.

School had to be out, since the stars were already dotting the sky. Maybe he could swing by April's...

No, she was still living at the lair. How could he have forgotten? And he doubted her aunt would be thrilled to see a six foot tall turtle standing in front of her. That would only leave...

He stopped, looking at the cluster of apartment complexes. It would be risky, but he couldn't imagine going anywhere else. As he climbed the fire escape with ease, he had already made his decision.

As much as he longed for April's hugs or comforting words, he knew Jones was the best bet. So he carefully used his bō to tap lightly on the window, while still remaining hidden.

It swung open, and there was Casey Jones. Handsome, cocky, hair even messier than usual without its iconic black and white bandana holding it in place. He seemed ready to go to bed as he was dressed in a tank top and pajama bottoms.

"The fuck?" He rubbed his eyes. "Donnie?"

"Hey there Jones." He mused, awkwardly rubbing his neck. "Is ...this a bad time?" He couldn't tell if Jones was simply tired or had been crying, since his eyes appeared too red and dusty.

"Nah, Riley's in bed." He confirmed. "Asleep."

"And your parents?"

Casey waved him off. "Hang on a sec," and he swung over the window to the metal fire escape. Climbing up the spare ladder casually, he glanced back at Donnie. "This place is more private." He was now perched on the roof, smirking. "You comin' or d'ya need an invitation?"

Donnie joined him, sitting on the ledge with their legs hanging over. "Is everything okay?"

"It's...fine, I guess." He chewed at his lip moodily. "Well not really. It's family bullshit."

He huffed a laugh. "Boy, do I know how that feels."

"I'm assuming you didn't just come here to chat. Something happen?"

Donnie nodded meekly.

"Hey, you don't need to tell me." Casey stared at his calloused hands. "I guess I can tell you what's been going on." He picked up a stone, flicking it across the roof. It fell loudly into a dumpster. Donnie winced. "My dad is a huge dick." He stated bluntly. "But it's complicated. Normally I'd talk with Raph about this but..."

"You don't have to..."

"Nah, it's chill. Here's the Cliff Notes version of it. Basically my dad decided to drop this major bomb on me n' Ri. That he proposed to Sara. His girlfriend." He made a vomit noise. "And I can't believe it."

"Is she not nice?" Donnie wondered.

"She's okay, I guess. No, but they haven't been dating that long and- I can't believe he decided to replace Riley's mom like that."

"Riley's mom? But you..."

"She's only my half sister. My real mom died forever ago. He was cheating on my mom with Riley's mom- Grace. He's a mess. It's all a mess."

"What happened to Grace?"

"Divorced her. Like I said, he's a dick." He looked back wearily. "Sorry, I know that was a lot. I'm not good at...dealing with my feelings but I shouldn't have dumped that on you with no warning."

"No, please don't apologize. I understand."

"Cool. So...your turn."

"My turn?"

"I just dramatically revealed my trauma. That shit doesn't come for free, yo. And I know you came here for a reason. So what is it? Because I think we're at that stage where we can talk about it. Whatever it is."

The purple masked turtle hesitated.

"There's only so many Electric Skullz albums we can talk about..."

Donnie took a deep breath, finally settling on revealing his troubles. "It was just an argument."

"With Raph?"

"No, Leo. He's been acting so strange lately. With the new mutant and everything. I think he likes her. As in, having feelings for her.  I swear, this is a Karai situation all over again." He frowned. "And then we started yelling and..." Head in his hands, he groaned. "It's troubling. He's been acting so distant and it's making me so ..."

Casey waited a moment for Donnie to find the word.

"Peeved."

"So, what you're saying is: it's all a mess."

Donnie laughed. "It sure is, Jones." Their shoulders bumped together. "Thanks for letting me vent."

"Hey, no worries. You let me rant, it's only fair. But I do know one thing for sure, families are complicated as fuck."

"Here here. But um, why did you bring me here again?" Donnie cocked his head to one side.

Casey stood up, hands on his hips. "Come on."

Donnie followed suit, raising a curious eyebrow. "And?"

"Start yelling."

"What?"

"Start. Yelling. It ain't rocket science. You're pissed off, I'm pissed off, so let it out! Go nuts!" 

"But it's night out."

"This is the city that never sleeps, genius. Look, I'll do it first."

He let out a loud, ear splitting bellow from above, hands spread out and wind hitting his cheeks. When he finished, he turned to Donnie eagerly.

"Go on."

Donnie exhaled. "If you say so..." And with that, he too joined in with the screaming. At first, it felt silly but then it surprisingly felt therapeutic. As if he was letting out his pent up frustrations with life.

"How'd that feel?" Casey moved closer to him until they were inches apart.

"It felt...good." Donnie admitted. "And you're sure no one can hear us?"

"Pshaw." Casey said smugly. "Anyone who does hear us will think we're a couple of drunks. I got ya, D." He took his hand in his, squeezing it. The difference between their hands- one large, green with three fingers. The other pale, smaller, five perfectly normal fingers. Casey didn't seem to mind.

"It doesn't solve our problems though." Donnie said.

"No, but it releases a little tension. I've done this with my friends a lot from the hockey team whenever we lose. Which rarely happens, but on that off chance we do? We scream. Fuck the system!"

"You ...consider me like one of your human friends?"

Casey's hazel eyes squinted back at him, as if he was confused by the question. "Of course. Why wouldn't you be? We're friends."

"But I'm..."

"Don't." Casey stopped him, pressing a finger to his lips. "I don't say this to just anyone, okay? But you're a cool dude, Donnie. And the smartest guy I know."

Donnie swallowed. "Jones I..."

"You're perfect the way you are, you hear me? Don't go moping around. It's a little sad to watch." He punched his shoulder affectionately. "Alright?" He looked back into Donnie's mahogany eyes.

"Alright." He nodded, now fully aware how close they were. He stopped himself from staring too hard at Casey's individual freckles, dotting his cheeks like a galaxy of stars. Or his deep hazel eyes, or his perfect peach lips...

An embrace felt too forward, so Donnie simply smiled, revealing his adorable gap. Casey's heart warmed, loving every time he saw that smile. He wasn't lying. He thought Donnie was beautiful in his own way. Turtle or not. As beautiful as April, maybe but in a different way. He wanted to stay the entire night, watching the stars with him.

"I promised Mikey I'd hang with him." Donnie remembered.

"Oh," His eyes looked down, disappointed. "I can walk you there? It's getting kinda late."

"Sure."

"Listen, um, Donnie...there's something you gotta know..."

There was a rustling noise behind them. Donnie froze. "Shut up."

"Excuse me? Did you just tell Casey Jones to shut up?"

"Shut up!" He hissed. "Someone's listening. You idiot, we shouldn't have been screaming our heads off!"

Casey mumbled a curse under his breath.

"Ah, so you are the clever one. Good to know." An unfamiliar voice snarled.

"Who said that?" Casey yelled, grabbing his trusty hockey stick and taser. Donnie gripped his own bō tightly.

"How cute."

Out of the shadows approached the two boys. A mutant reptile at least twenty feet in length with massive yellow eyes staring them down.

"Jones?"

"Yeah, Donnie?"

"I think we found the mutant."

[krisdreaming]

Hogwarts AU | Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

[ Part of the 3k AU Collection! The masterlist is here ]

Summary: You’re completely opposed to sneaking out of the castle for a very illegal late night adventure in Hogsmeade, but saying “no” has never been one of your strong suits. You and Kuroo get separated from the group, and maybe it’s the butterbeer talking, but you’re starting to feel like this might not have been such a terrible idea after all. 

A/N: What time period of HP does this take place in? Don’t ask, cause I don’t really know. Also, nobody’s house was really mentioned, so it can really be whatever you want it to be. I just think the whole HP universe is the warmest thing ever, and I hope that comes through in this fic!!!

WC: 1.2k

There’s a slight nip to the air, a sign that autumn really is coming. The streets of Hogsmeade are silent and nearly empty at this time of night, lit only by the occasional streetlamp. You rub your hands down your arms against the chill. Only three weeks into the school year, and here you are, already breaking one of the school’s cardinal rules. You’re envisioning the disappointed expression on Professor Dumbledore’s face when you’re inevitably caught and punished severely for sneaking out of the castle at night.

“Don’t look so sour.” Boktuo slugs you in the arm, and you grimace, rubbing at the spot where he’d punched you. “You’re supposed to be having fun!” 

“How can I have fun when we could be caught and dragged back to school at any moment?” You look to Akaashi and Tsukishima, hoping for some sympathy from either one of them. They were roped into this just as much as you were.

“Aw.” Instead, Kuroo answers, sidling up next to you with that stupid grin on his face. “Come on, live a little! Don’t worry, we won’t get caught.” You sigh. His stupid grin is the only reason you’re here in the first place. “Hey, I know what’ll make you feel better. Let’s get some butterbeer!”  A chorus of agreement rises from the group, and with that settled, you duck into the Three Broomsticks.

It’s warm and dimly lit, and though Madame Rosmerta raises an eyebrow at your group when Bokuto does a quick head count and orders five butterbeers, she doesn’t say a word. You breathe a sigh of relief. Once you’re all seated at a table, you’re feeling a little better. The atmosphere is cozy, and with all five of you shoved in at the table together, your arm is resting comfortably against Kuroo’s. You glance in his direction, and he doesn’t seem to mind it, so you decide that you don’t, either. It’s nice.

As you sip your warm drinks and talk and laugh, the unease that had been pooling in your middle slowly begins to dissipate. You wrap your hands around your now-empty mug, soaking up the last remnants of warmth. Kuroo glances at you with a small smile, ducking his head a little closer so that you’re sure to hear him. “Having fun yet?”

You nod sheepishly, trying to convince yourself the heat in your cheeks is from the drink you’d just finished. “I guess,” You admit begrudgingly, smiling back at him.

“Good,” He nods, pressing his arm closer to yours.

“Hey, do you think Honeyduke’s is still open?” Bokuto asks suddenly, and Akaashi shrugs. “Well, let’s go find out!” He practically drags Akaashi to his feet, and the rest of the group stands as well. You’re almost at the door when you reach into your pocket, a nervous habit, and your fingers meet only fabric.

“Wait, my wallet!” You gasp, “I think I left it on the table.”

“Go ahead, I’ll wait.” Kuroo says as the door closes behind the others, and you shoot him a grateful smile. You skirt back to the table and snatch up your wallet with a huff. Back at the door, Kuroo grins when you reach him. He pulls it open for you, and you step out into the night, breathing in the sweet air, refreshing after the stale, smoky air of the pub. You fall easily in step with Kuroo.

Honeyduke’s is only a few stores down, and indeed open. The tall windows let the warm, yellow light spill from inside, and the faintest scent of the sweets inside reaches you even without opening the door. You can see Bokuto inside with Akaashi and Tsukishima, filling his arms with goodies.

“Wanna go in?” Kuroo gestures toward the door, and you scrunch your nose.

“I don’t need to. Do you?” He lifts his shoulders in a slight shrug.

“Nah,” He pauses, swaying slightly on his feet as though not content to stay still. “Want to walk a bit?” He asks then, quieter, and you look down the empty street, then nod.

“Sure.” You aren’t quite sure why, but there’s something about this quiet moment with him that makes you want to stay in it a little longer. To your surprise, when you start walking, he reaches for your hand, his fingers warm and reassuring around yours.

“Is this okay?” He asks, glancing at you sideways for a quick moment before returning his gaze to the cobblestone street in front of him.

“Yeah,” You breathe out, shifting just a little closer to him. At that, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s a really beautiful night.” You comment after a few moments of silence, looking up at the softly winking stars as you slowly make your way down the street.

“So you don’t still wish you would’ve stayed back at school?” He teases, swinging your hands gently between you.

“Mm,” You hum in thought for a few moments, “No, I guess not,” You can’t help but smile at him. “This is nice.”

“It is,” He agrees, “And I, for one, am really glad you let Bokuto talk you into coming along tonight.”

“He can be very convincing when he wants to be,” You laugh softly. Gradually, the two of you come to a stop beneath one of the streetlamps. The tiny village looks so cozy like this, with a scattered few windows lit with warm light just enough to add a soft glow to the night. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Kuroo finally breaks the silence, and you turn to look at him. The serious look on his face breaks into a small smile when your eyes meet. “I really am glad you’re here, with me.” After a moment’s hesitation, he tucks a strand of hair caught by the breeze back behind your ear. 

“So am I,” You say softly, trying unsuccessfully to contain the smile that’s growing on your face. He leans in closer.

“So then, is it okay if I...” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but you’re already nodding, and he smiles again, right before his lips meet yours. It’s soft and quick, but the kiss leaves you feeling warm from head to toe. It tastes just a little bit like butterbeer.

“Kuroo, I-”

“I really like you, Y/N,” He says quickly, before you can finish what you were trying to say. “Sorry,” he adds sheepishly.

You laugh softly. “I was just gonna say that I like you, too,” You admit, watching as the pleased smile spreads across his face.

“Well then,” He murmurs, leaning in again, and his lips have just brushed yours when a sudden commotion sounds behind you.

“BRO! You did it!” Bokuto whoops, and you instantly jerk back, subconsciously leaning into Kuroo in your surprise. Akaashi and Tsukishima are following sheepishly behind him. You feel Kuroo’s hand barely resting at the small of your back. “So are you guys dating now, or what?” Bokuto looks excitedly between the two of you.

Kuroo shoots you a quick glance, eyebrow quirked, and you smile, giving a subtle nod. “Totally,” He grins, reaching for your hand again. As you all make your way back to the castle, you suppose that, all in all, perhaps breaking the rules just this once wasn’t quite so bad.

AU Collection taglist (Want to be added? Let me know!):

@moonyremvs​, @nerdyphantomlady​, @canelaah​, @jupiturde​, @lightningclaw288,  @hqangel12​, @bnhaxxxhaikyu​, @atlix-cli​, @blushingbaka​, @moon-390​

[soggyjulpod]

— flowers of flesh and blood

chapter two: teen romance

[anakin skywalker x reader]

summary: reader meets with a friend, at night [y/n] and anakin sneak off to a party

warning: language, underaged drinking, violence, mild sexual harassment

word count: 2.1k

—

the same afternoon [y/n] layed on the couch in the large parlor in her room, bored out of her mind staring at the ceiling. bee was laying on her chest minding his own business. unknown to her, none of her friends had snuck in through one of the large windows in the parlor.

“[y/n]!” her friend yelled out. [y/n] screamed out in surprise, she sprang from the couch causing her dog to fall down with a yelp.

“oh maker, you scared the shit out of me!” she laughs out. the two girls giggle to themselves, “so are you coming to-” her friend began to speak but was interrupted by anakin bursting into [y/n]’s room with his lightsaber in hand.

“get away from her!” the blond ordered to the threat he was yet to identify, his eyes darted around the large parlor. the two girls exchanged looks, “relax padawan, i’m fine” she says.

“but i heard a scream.” he says confused. [y/n] sighs, “i’m fine, this is my friend,” she gestures to her friend. “you can go away now.” she says, shooing him away. the jedi nods and exits.

her friend, rocinia, turns to her with an intrigued expression, “who was that?” the redhead inquires, wiggling her eyebrow. [y/n] rolls her eyes, “he’s assigned to be my bodyguard.”

“lucky! why do you always get the cute guys.” her redheaded friend complains as she kneels down to pet the dog.

“ro, shut up, he’ll hear you!” she hissed at her friend. “let him hear” rocinia jokes, sending her a playful wink.

“he’s really only here because someone might try to kill me to get to my dad.” [y/n] blurts. rocinia’s face drops, “seriously? those psychos after your father might try to get you?”

“yeah” she mutters. rocinia laughs awkwardly, “lets go to the gardens, i think we both need some vitamin d.”

the two girls exit her room, anakin and bee trailed behind them. they chattered about the latest gossip from their school mates as they stroll through to gardens.

“elijoh seriously said that?” that boy was always on her last nerve, he had been trying to ask her out for the last year but never seemed to take a hint.

“yes! what else do you expect from him” the two girl giggle.

“hey about tonight, are you still-” rocinia asks but was quickly shushed by [y/n] who motioned her head to the blond who was a few yards behind them.

“ro, my bodyguard is literally behind us, do you wanna be louder?” she sarcastically asks.

“sorry,” the redhead winces, “are you still coming out tonight?” she whispers lowly. [y/n] nods her head. “i just have to find a way to get away without being noticed.”

the watch on the redhead’s wrist started beeping, “shit, i gotta go or my mom’s going to kill me”

the two girls shared a hug, “i'll see you later, good luck.” rocinia whispers the last part.

—

[y/n] sat in front of her vanity putting the final touches on her hair. “perfect,” she smiles to herself in the mirror. she gets up and puts on the cheesy angel wings on her back. the girl quietly tiptoes to her bedroom door and places her ear on the door to see if the padawan was outside.

bee whined as he follows his owner, the girl shushes the dog in a panic. she could hear soft snoring from him, she smirked to herself, it was now or never.

“bee, you stay here.” she commands the dog as she place him on her bed.

[y/n] tiptoed to one of the large balconies, she mouths one final ‘stay’ to bee before she carefully climbed to the side where there were vines leading to the bottom. she grabs onto the vines and slowly begins to climb down.

she bites her lip, concentrating on safely making it to the bottom

“what do you think you’re doing?” the voice startles her, making her lose her grip on the vines, her eyes clamp shut in panic and she falls down two stories with a shriek.

[y/n] opened her eyes to anakin’s relieved face, he had caught her. the girl’s heart was racing as the two made eye contact. they stare at each other without a word being spoken for what seemed like forever.

the girl purses her lips, “you can let go of me, i’m fine,” she says patting his shoulder.  the blond mumbles a quick apology and puts her on her feet. [y/n] pats down her dress and fixes her wings, she looks the padawan up and down before turning on her heel and continuing her journey.

“what do you think you’re doing?” anakin repeats as he follows after her. “out,” she dismisses his concern. he reaches out and grabs her forearm.

“you’re not allowed out.” the blond states as he tries to pull her back towards the manor. “says who?” she retorted.  he turns to her, “me. i’m in charge of your safety, [y/n].” he says in a frustrated tone.

“actually, anakin, if you are in charge of my safety, you have to go wherever i go,” she says with a smug smile, the padawan’s eyes narrow. “face it anakin, you're my bitch now.” [y/n] says, tugging her arm out of his grasp.

“now where was i before i was rudely interrupted? ah, yes! party time!” she thinks out loud.

[y/n] motions for the padawan to follow her, “are you sure this is best thing to do? i mean there’s people that might be trying to kill you.” anakin asks as he begrudgingly follows her.

“good thing you’re with me then.” she smiles.  the two followed the dirt path that led away from the back of the manor and into the woods.

“where are we going?” the blond questions.  “a party, as i previously stated” she repeats, “have you ever been to a party, anakin?”

“i've accompanied my master to some galas and balls.”

the girl laughs, “no, i mean like a party with people of our age, drinking, smoking and making out.” she explains. he shakes his head.

“you're like, what, 17? and you haven't been to a party.”

“sixteen,” he corrects, “and no, stuff like that is against the jedi code.” the blond says in disbelief that she would ever think he would ever be involved in stuff like that.

“lucky for you, i’m here to help you be a real teenager.” she jabbed at him. he rolls eyes.

the two continued to walk side by side on the path.

“why are you dressed like that?” anakin inquired as he fully examined her clothes.

“i’m an angel, can’t you tell?” she says pointing to the wings, “it's a costume party.”

the pair stop at a crossroads, in the patch of grass between them there was a blue bike. [y/n] pulled the bike up and sat on the seat.

“hop on, padawan.” she tells him as she pats the back of the seat.

“seriously?” the blond sighs. “yes, if you want to get there faster get on.” the girl explains. with a groan he takes a seat behind her, putting his arms around her waist.

—

the pair arrived to a manor similar to [y/n]’s, from the outside you could hear the booming music and the colored lights.

the girl got off the bike and made her way to the entrance. anakin stood in awe at the sight in front of him.

“you haven't seen anything yet padawan,” she smirks, “follow me.” she beckons for him to come to her.

as the two entered a few people she went to school greeted her. anakin followed [y/n] into the kitchen where she grabbed two shot glasses and a bottle of liquor from the isle. she poured the alcohol into the glasses.

she reaches out one of the shots for him to take. he laughs nervously, “no thanks, one of us has to stay sober.”

“more for me then.” [y/n] smiles and downs the two shots back to back, her face scrunches up in disgust. “holy shit, that was strong.” the two laugh. the girl stops, “oh my maker i love this song!” she squeals.

“may i have this dance,” [y/n] requests in a posh accent, extending her hand so he could join her into the crowd of dancing teenagers.

“no thanks, i'll just stay over here.” anakin replied, giving her an awkward smile.

she frowns, “well i’m going to go do stupid stuff, you can stay here and be miserable for all i care.” she shouted over the music.

anakin leaned back onto the wall as he watched [y/n] swerve into the ball of grinding teens. he observed her quietly, from the moment he had met her he had felt a sort of pull to her.

he shakes his head, “don’t get invested.” he reminds himself.

on the dance floor [y/n] danced with rocinia who she had found. the redhead handed her a can of beer which she gladly took and takes a swig from it.

she was having fun until she felt someone grab her waist and started grinding on her. she attempted to wiggled out of the grasp of the person, “get off!” she growls.

“come on, don’t be bitch.”

that voice, it was fucking elijoh. [y/n]’s face contorted into anger, as best as she could in her intoxicated state she concentrated on stomping on his foot.

elijoh yelped and pulled his hands away from her. “what the fuck, chill bro.”

“chill? why don’t you stop harassing me!” the drunk girl shouts, getting up to his face. at this point a crowd had circled around them.

anakin had been dozing off but was brought back by her yelling.

“harassing you?” he scoffs and pushed her, causing her to lose her balance and fall down.

“hey get away from her!” anakin yelled as he ran into the small circle. all the attention shifted to the blond.

“and what are you going to do?” elijoh hisses back. anakin lit his lightsaber, the crowd that had gathered around them gasped. elijoh backed away at the sudden threat.

“anakin put that away now,” she commands, “i’ve got this.”

anakin helps her up and without a second thought, the drunk girl slaunders to the him, raising her fist and punches him square in the nose as hard as she could. a crack resonated through the room. elijoh groaned in pain as he held his nose in his hands, blood gushing out.

[y/n] quietly mutters in pain as she cradles her hand. she peers up at anakin who stood beside her with his mouth agape.

“i was not expecting that.” he says in disbelief. “come on we have to go now!” she pleads, bringing him out of his state of shock. [y/n] grabs his arm and attempting to leave but she stumbles. anakin swiftly catches her, “i’ve got you,” he wraps an arm around her waist and the other around his neck.

“you fucking bitch!” elijoh fumes in the distance with blood dripping from his face. he started to chase after them.

“quickly!!” she yells as anakin gets on the bike, he helps her get on and he peddles like his life depended on it.

[y/n] wraps her arms around him and leans her body into his back, putting her head on the back of his shoulder. she stares up at the night sky with half of her face being squished on the blond’s back.

“everything’s so pretty.” she drunkenly mumbles into his back. “what was that?” he asks.

“the sky’s so pretty tonight.” anakin slows his peddling and peers up to the sky.

“i guess so” he utters, “hey i never got the chance to ask you, but are you hurt?” he doesnt get an answer. he takes a hand of the steering and reaches back to tap her shoulder but instead touches her head.

the blond turns his head to see that she had fallen asleep on him. “she's certainly something.” he whispers lowly to himself.

anakin peddled all the way back to the manor, he delicately carried her to her room so as to not wake her. he carefully took off the wings from her back and her shoes so as to not wake her.

the blond then tucked her into her bed, he turned to leave but was stopped when a hand grabbed his wrist.

“thank you, i had fun tonight.” she gives him a soft grin. “me too.” he says, sharing the same expression.

“good night, anakin”

“good night [y/n]”

—

a/n: not me listening to lil peep will writing this to match the teenage buffoonery. anyways i kept on changing the end but i like what i settled with. enjoy the cute interactions at the end. also pretend like bikes are a thing in the star wars universe.

[xaviermayne]

My Brother's Favorite Toy

Grayson was out getting groceries, and Ethan was in his bedroom getting close.

The vibrator in his ass buzzed hard against his desk chair as Ethan sat stroking his dick, his shorts and underwear around his ankles. Ethan looked down proudly at his dick as his hand slid up and down all 8 inches. Grayson was right, Ethan thought. This does feel amazing.

Grayson had been raving about this vibrator for weeks, which irked Ethan to no end, especially since Ethan had checked online and, because of the pandemic, it was backordered for months. Ethan had been hearing Grayson every night. Around 10pm, like clockwork, Ethan would have to pause his music because he could hear the quiet whirring of the vibe and his brother's muffled groans. Last night Ethan even got up and pressed his ear to the door, seething with jealousy.

So, when Grayson went on his Thursday morning grocery run, Ethan knew this was his only chance. When the garage door closed, Ethan had slowly counted to ten, then darted to Grayson's bedroom. Idiot, Ethan thought, when he found it barely hidden in Grayson's dirty clothes hamper.

Now Ethan knew what all of Grayson's fuss was about. Pushing up on the balls of his feet, Ethan leaned back in his office chair as the vibe pulsed and hummed in his ass. He almost felt like he was having waves of orgasms just from the toy flitting against his prostate, without even cumming. Of course, precum still drooled down his dick, which Ethan quickly swiped with the side of his finger as extra lube for jerking off. He felt another wave of p-spot pleasure rise up on him, when he started to feel his balls tingle too, and he knew a full climax was coming. He grabbed a dirty pair of underwear to use as a rag for his impending load, and then—

"Ethan, I'm home!" Grayson shouted as the front door slammed shut.

Ethan felt all of the blood evaporate out of his body.

"They were out of almond butter so I got cashew butter," Grayson shouted. "Try not to cry about it."

Ethan sat frozen in shock for a moment, then the adrenaline kicked in and he scooted back in the chair, and ripped the toy out of his ass with a thwop.

"Ah, fuck!" Ethan screamed, then slapped his own hand across his mouth. It turned out that quickly ripping out an anal toy can kind of hurt. Sweat began beading across his forehead as he looked down and also realized that, in his act of adrenaline, Ethan had also broken off the tip of the base of the vibrator. The tip with the charging port and the power button. No, no, no, no, no, Ethan thought.

Just then, Ethan's door swung open. Had he really forgotten to lock it?

"Dude it's not even gonna taste that diff— dude, what the FUCK!" Grayson screamed as he looked into Ethan's room. There sat Ethan, naked and drenched in sweat, face as white as the precum dribbling down his boner, with dirty underwear in one hand and a vibrator in the other. And not just any vibrator.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" Grayson screamed, only slowly being able to process the scene before him. "Is that my fucking vibrator? Were you using it?!" Ethan gulped hard. "Whoa wait, and you fucking broke it?!"

There was a stunned silence that, to Ethan, felt like it lasted eight entire years.

"Dude, I can explain," Ethan finally croaked. Then he looked down at the broken bit of the toy dangling from the base. "O-okay. Actually, I guess I can't."

To Ethan's surprise, Grayson just shrugged. "You know what, don't even bother, bro. I know exactly how you'll make it up to me. Just pull up your fucking shorts for now and help me with the groceries."

Stunned, Ethan pulled up his shorts, rearranging his still-throbbing wood into them, and followed his brother out.

That night, just around 10pm, Ethan got a text.

Grayson: Yo, remember how I said you'd have to make it up to me?

Ethan started typing, then erased it.

Grayson: Your punishment starts now. Come to my room.

Ethan tossed his phone on the ground and put his head in his hands. What the fuck am I about to have to do? he wondered. Then begrudgingly, he stood up, and sulked to Grayson's bedroom. He cleared his throat awkwardly and rapped on the door.

"Yeah. Come in."

Ethan turned the doorknob and let the door slowly swing open. Grayson lay at the edge of the bed, his feet firmly on the floor. He had his phone above his head, the light of the screen dancing across his face. He was totally nude, save for a pair of clean white socks on his feet. His dick wasn't hard, but it wasn't totally soft. Ethan knew this since he'd seen his brother's dick soft plenty of times before — only because they lived together and had played sports together though, nothing gay. Well, not until now, at least.

"Ummmm, what are you doing?" Ethan asked, eyes fixed on his own shadow stretched out before him.

"You broke my toy," Grayson explained. "It's backordered for months. And I can't cum without it."

"Look, bro, I'm sorry," Ethan said. "I know it's super weird that I even borrowed it. And then to break it... I mean it was a freak accident!"

"Shut up," Grayson commanded flatly. "I can't cum without something in my ass. And I really, really need to cum."

"Okay," Ethan shrugged. "Do want me to, like, get a pickle from the fridge for you or something?" He laughed at his own joke.

Grayson grabbed a plastic bottle laying next to him and threw it at his brother, hitting Ethan squarely on the cheek. "It's not fucking funny," said Grayson. Ethan winced at the pain then looked down and noticed it was a bottle of lube. "Squirt some on your fucking finger and get to work." Grayson casually raised up his legs and let them rest in the air, revealing the tiny pink dot between his tanned ass cheeks.

Ethan stared at his brother's ass. He'd seen his brother's ass cheeks a hundred times, but never his brother's hole. It looked pristine and tight. It almost looked like a girl's, Ethan thought, if you didn't look at his masculine, muscular glutes or, y'know, his big shaven balls sagging down, one slightly lower than the other.

Ethan approached his brother and heard the tinny sound of a girl moaning — some porn video on Grayson's phone. He dropped to his knees with a sigh and squirted a few drops of lube onto his right index finger. Though this was the first time seeing his brother's hole, it actually wasn't his first time thinking about it. Sometimes, when Ethan was extremely horny — like, hadn't jerked off for days horny — he'd watch his brother during their workouts and would catch himself having weird fantasies, like picturing what his brother would look like doing those barbell squats naked. Ethan would think about Grayson slowly lowering down into the squat and his ass cheeks spreading, a bead of sweat dripping off his swaying balls. Ethan would find himself hard and wanting to play with his dick, but would quickly snap out of it and flush with shame.

But now, here it was. His brother's hole. He ran his lubed fingertip around it until it glistened in the haze of blue LED lights in Grayson's room. Then, carefully, Ethan slid in the very tip of his finger.

"Slow," Grayson barked.

Ethan sat for a moment, his finger right at the precipice of his brother's hole, as the girl in the porn video moaned delicately. Hesitantly, Ethan pushed a bit more in. Grayson seemed to wince, but stayed silent.

It carried on like that for a bit, with Ethan slowly sliding in and Grayson occasionally commanding him to go slower, or questioning how trimmed his fingernails were. Eventually Ethan had a full finger in, and Ethan noticed his brother's warm hole didn't seem to twitch and squeeze as much. He was loosening up.

Grayson switched videos, and that's when Ethan noticed his brother's ass really starting to open up. With a bit more lube, Ethan was able to get his middle finger in, too. He was even pretty sure he heard Grayson let out a little grunt of pleasure when he moved around in him.

That's when Ethan found it. A few inches in was Grayson's throbbing prostate. He pressed on it gently with his middle finger.

"Huh!" went Grayson's startled grunt. As Ethan rubbed it more and more, Grayson's growls devolved into breathless moans of pleasure. Ethan watched Grayson's dick slowly rise from a thick slab of meat lounging on his balls to a beautiful pulsing tower, quivering as precum leaked down.

"Hoahh," Grayson moaned, in a certain falsetto he'd never heard from his brother before. Not even last night with his ear pressed again the door. Was he fingerbanging his bro better than the toy? Encouraged, Ethan furrowed his brow and started hammering at his brothers p-spot, determined to drive him totally wild.

He looked up and smirked as he noticed Grayson's toes were curling inside his white socks. Ethan tilted his head to see beyond Grayson's dick to his face, and his mouth was wide open and his eyes were rolling back. He had thrown his phone onto the mattress and whatever video he'd been watching was now not only muffled by the comforter, but drowned out by Ethan's own guttural groans and squealing moans.

Suddenly Grayson pushed his hair back with his hand and said in a hushed tone, "Oh my god, I think I'm gonna—" Ethan's eyes lit up and he put his fingers into machine-gun mode. Then, with both hands gripping his own hair in confusion, Grayson let out a yelp and Ethan watched as Grayson's balls suddenly raised up and a heavy stream of wet white cum surged out of his dick. Ethan's eyes followed the load as it seemed to almost touch the ceiling, then come down with a splat on Grayson's tattooed leg. In fact, Ethan noticed, some of it even got on the jack-o-lantern tattoo he'd given his brother a couple of years ago.

Ethan curled his fingers again and Grayson's body convulsed, another thick stream beaming up and falling, this time settling in the valleys of Grayson's abs, flexed as he kept his legs up. Ethan smiled as he pressed again and yet another load shot up. He realized he was full-on milking his own brother's prostate. He kept pulling the trigger and watched as his brother shot load after load, until eventually it seemed like his dick kept straightening for another shot but there was nothing left to shoot.

Ethan slowly slipped his fingers out of his brother's hole, which quickly tightened right back up to the perfect pink dot it was before. Grayson groaned as he finally lowered down his legs. Cum was everywhere, on Grayson's thighs, his abs, all over the bed. A drop had even sprayed on Ethan's face. Ethan made sure Grayson wasn't looking, then tongued it off his cheek. I tasted thick and bitter and buttery.

Ethan looked down at his own dick, which was harder than he'd ever seen it, and the front of his shorts were completely drenched in his own precum.

Biting his lower lip, Ethan looked up at Grayson. "Sooo... my turn?"

[vikingpoteto]

the curse of cousin Chad

Read on AO3

______________________

Relationships:  GEN. Tim Drake & Jason Todd & Stephanie Brown

Summary: Tim Drake's only wish is for people to stop talking about Red Robin on the news (and a monkey's paw finger curls somewhere as Chad Wayne shows up in their lives.)

________________________

Red Robin had been better, but he had been worse too.

After Batgirl helps him sit down, he stops for a second and decides that he probably doesn’t have any broken bones, just more than a few bruises forming. Batgirl all but falls by his side, exhausted, and judging by the groan she lets out she must be just as sore. Still, she extends her fist for a bump and he grins as he obliges.

“Well, no one got shot or stabbed, so that’s a win on my book,” Red Robin says.

“That and we put away a dangerous gang that had been terrorizing the locals for months,” she reminds him.

“Yeah, that too.”

He glances around and decides the building they chose is tall enough that they can relax for a bit. He pulls down his cowl. Tim lets out a long relieved sigh when the cold night air touches his face. Batgirl follows his cue, even if she struggles with her hair for a bit to do so. The two of them let their legs dangle from the edge of the rooftop, unbothered by the height, their gazes on the sky.

Heavy footsteps approach the young vigilantes from behind, but neither Tim nor Steph worries, because they’re familiar with the sound. As expected, a third vigilante soon enough takes the spot by Steph’s other side, his helmet already under his arm and his face mask free.

“You two look really beaten considering you weren’t fighting alone tonight,” Jason says.

Steph flips him off.

Tim rolls his eyes. “There were a lot of weaklings, okay? Sometimes that’s more annoying than one strong guy.”

“If you say so.”

“How about your night?” Steph asks casually.

“Kicked some ass, shot the kneecaps of the most stubborn ones. All in a night’s work.”

They nod and resume watching the sky for a brief peaceful moment. So high above they can barely hear the sounds of sirens and late night traffic on the streets.

Then Steph sits up so fast she almost slips down the edge. Tim and Jason grab her shoulders by reflex and pull her back at the same time.

Ignoring the fact that she almost died, Steph shouts: “What time is it?”

“Hm... about 2am?” Tim checks his wrist pad. “Yeah, 2:35.”

“Oh my God!” She groans, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. “We missed the countdown by, like, a lot! How did we not hear the fireworks?”

“Gunshots?” Jason suggests.

“Fireworks and gunshots don’t sound the same, we all know the difference.”

Tim rolls his eyes, because this is so them. Of course they’d miss the start of the new year because they were busy fighting crime. Steph and Tim were even planning on going to WE’s New Year’s party together after what was supposed to be a super quick patrol, just to stop a few muggers, really . Tim is glad they did, even if Lucius is going to scold him on Monday. He hates those parties.

“Well, I have a little something here to celebrate,” Jason says with a crooked grin.

He turns his helmet upside down, revealing a bottle of booze. Of course the dramatic bitch had it hidden, just waiting for the right moment to reveal it. Steph whoops excitedly.

“Jason, you’re my hero! I mean… B is gonna kill us if he finds we were drinking in uniform, but it’s not like he’ll find out, right?”

Jason hands the bottle to Tim first, his smile positively wicked. Having been given this sort of gift from Jason before, Tim rolls his eyes and takes a generous chug without hesitation. His eyes tear up a bit at the taste when he passes the bottle to Steph.

She happily drinks straight from the bottle like Tim had… Then she freezes.

"Jason?"

“Yeah, Steph?”

“What the heck is this?”

“Spinach and lettuce juice. Timmy needs those antibodies."

"Jason, why are you like this?

"You didn’t think I was giving you guys alcohol, did you? You two are minors.”

Tim grins. He can tell Steph is trying to decide whether to throw the bottle overboard or at Jason’s head.

Before she decides, he turns his gaze back to the sky and asks: “You guys made any New Year’s wishes?”

“Resolutions,” Steph corrects. “Wishes are for birthdays.”

Jason makes a high-pitched voice, “wow, look at me, I’m Stephanie Brown, my mom loves me so much she celebrated my birthday!”

Tim laughs. “Geez, I’ll drink to that.”

There are no words to describe the horror in Steph’s face when he takes back the bottle and drinks a little more of the green juice.

He simply shrugs. “It’s an acquired taste.”

Deciding it’s not worth the trouble, Steph shakes her head and says, “I’m keeping it simple this year. My only resolution is to pass all my classes for once in my life. What about you, Jay?”

“I don’t do that corny shit.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I know you guys like corny shit.”

“We’ve seen you cry over Jane Austen, your edgelord bullcrap doesn’t work on us,” Steph says. When Jason tries to protest that his eyes were just tearing up from yawning, she turns to Tim: “What about you? Any New Year wishes?”

“Just one, too,” Tim says. “I wanna make sure every non-criminal forgets Red Robin ever existed.”

Jason and Steph snort.

“I’m serious. No more shipping me with my family, no more stalkers. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure no reporter writes the words ‘Red Robin’ ever again.”

“Good luck with that, Timbers.”

Tim drinks his lettuce juice in silence. He hands the bottle back to Jason. Steph pretends to gag when he also takes a long sip. Despite their incredulity, Tim is feeling positive about his goal. He feels like after the Red Twins craze died down, people lost interest in him. He thinks he can pull it off.

If only he knew.

Tim almost never visits the manor anymore. He’s been to the Batcave once or twice on the past few months, but the house itself… he doesn’t even remember the last time. He decides to stop by on a rare free afternoon, hoping Duke and Cass will be around. If not, seeing Alfred outside the cave and having a cup of tea with him was more than enough.

He lets himself in, because he knows it makes Alfred begrudgingly happy when any of the kids acts as though they still live there rather than politely ringing the bell. It also makes Damian mad, which is always a plus.

Hearing voices from the living room, Tim heads straight there, excited that there’s someone home. His smile freezes on his face. Whatever he was expecting to see, it wasn’t… that.

Bruce is sitting near the fireplace pinching the bridge of his nose as he does when his children are fighting among themselves. On the opposite couch is none other than Jason being embraced by a complete stranger that is currently sobbing into his shoulder.

Jason’s gaze meet Tim’s in what is clearly a plea for help. All Tim can do is mouth who the hell is that? to which Jason mouths back I have no fucking idea.

“Would you look at that, Tim’s here,” Bruce says. Tim has the feeling he’s trying to save Jason.

The sniffling stranger pulls back and turns around. “Oh god. You’re a man now, Timmy! Last time I saw you, you were just a tiny kid!”

To Tim’s complete horror, the man stands and comes hug him tightly.

“Uh… ”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” the man gives a watery chuckle “of course you don’t remember me. You were a basically a toddler and I was also a kid when I last saw you. I’m Chad, your father’s cousin.”

“Oh. You’re…”

“I mean, Bruce's cousin. I knew Jack, though. He was good people.”

“Bruce’s cousin. Hm. So your name is Chad Wayne, huh?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing,” Tim pretends not to see Jason hide a snicker into his hand. “Sounds… cool.”

“Chad is visiting Gotham for a couple of weeks,” Bruce tells him. “He just graduated from college in Central City and decided it was a good idea to visit old relatives. It was such a great surprise when he arrived.”

“Right,” Chad wipes the tears from his face, “and I happened to run right into Jason here and oof. Saying I was surprised doesn’t cover it.”

His jovial laughter is so genuine that it’s almost unsettling.

“Oh. You… You know Jason."

“Yeah, man. My family was in a year long trip to Africa, so we didn’t hear about his death until a long time had passed. My parents were crushed that they couldn’t be there for Brucie then. Bruce was telling me about how you guys got him back. Nothing short of a miracle, huh?”

“A miracle,” Jason echoes.

Chad scratches his own nape, finally looking appropriately embarrassed. “Sorry I got so emotional, Jason. I almost didn’t recognize you, you got so jacked , man. I guess I have a good memory for faces.”

He speaks so fast. Steph always complains that Tim speaks too fast whenever he is in the zone and caffeinated, but that was nothing compared to Chad’s rambling.

“Oh well. C'mere, Tim, sit with us, let me get to know you guys. Even if I’m your father’s cousin, I guess I’m closer in age to you two ahaha...”

Tim is known for being a quick thinker, but something about Chad’s khaki shorts and how out of place they look in Gotham stuns him into inaction. He lets Chad drag him to the couch and doesn’t say anything else on pure fear that the guy is about to do it to ‘em.

“Actually,” Jason stands, “Tim is here to pick me up. We have this, hm, doctor’s appointment. To check my… eyes. Yeah, my eyes. Tim’s gonna drive me.”

“Oh, that’s alright, we can talk more when you two come back.”

“Back?” Tim parrots.

“Actually, Chad, Jason and Tim don’t live in the manor,” Bruce says. “They share an apartment around downtown.”

For the first time, Chad drops his too-blessed-to-be-stressed smile and frowns. “What? Why? I thought you guys just got Jason back. Shouldn’t he stay with you, Bruce?”

“Actually, that’s a funny story,” Jason says, taking Tim by the arm. “I’m sure Bruce will love to tell you all about it. I can’t be late for my appointment, isn’t that right, lil' bro?”

“Uh… Yeah. Being dead made his insurance skyrocket and the cancelation fees are a nightmare.”

“Hm-hum, all that. See you around and stuff.” Jason is holding Tim’s arm with such force that it’ll bruise for sure. They’re still on the way to the door when he hisses: “ Get me out of here right now.”

“But I didn’t even see Alfred,” he whispers back.

“ Now, Timothy ! ”

They don’t stop powerwalking until they’re in the car. Jason doesn’t bother going back for his bike and Tim makes a mental note to ask Cass to bring it back to their place later.

For a second, they just breathe Gotham’s polluted air to remind themselves they’re still home and not in a Disney sitcom.

That’s when Jason starts ranting. Apparently he was on the way to the kitchen to get just a bowl of cereal when he walked into Alfred getting the door open for cousin Chad. Alfred had said "Master Jason, I didn’t know you were here" and cousin Chad recognized him and started losing it. Bruce didn’t let Jason kill him, unfortunately, but managed to pull a story out of his ass about Jason coming back from the dead after someone from the Justice League messed up the timeline or something like that. The official story is that they found Jason just a couple of weeks ago and are still working out the kinks of having a family member return from the grave. Except Jason’s speech was a lot more convoluted and involved a lot of curse words and shakespearean insults.

“...and I didn’t even get my freaking cereal!” he finishes, just as Tim parks in front of their home.

“Well. That was an afternoon you just had,” Tim says. Jason huffs and gruffs on the way to the elevator. Tim waits until the doors close to say: “Bruce didn’t pull that story out of his ass, by the way.”

Jason frowns. “What?”

“Your cover story,” Tim clarifies. “He had it for years. I know everything about it if you want the details. He asked me for feedback when he was figuring how to make it believable and whatnot.”

“What? When? Why?”

“As soon as we found out you were alive. He wanted to be ready in case you decided to officially join the family again. It took a few days of work, but the plan exists and is ready to go whenever.”

Jason doesn’t say anything. Tim had expected that, so he allows him to mull over the newfound knowledge. He also expects Jason to head straight for the kitchen, which he does, and Tim follows his brother closely, not commenting on the tension of his shoulders or the way his jaw is set tight enough to crack a few teeth.

When his brother just stands near the sink apparently unsure of what to do with himself, Tim gets milk from the fridge and starts preparing a bowl of cereal.

“What were you doing there, anyway?”

“I went to see Alfred,” Jason mumbles. “But he was busy, so I was… I was talking to Bruce for a bit.”

“Oh?”

Jason grabs the bowl Tim is offering him. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Shut up.” And Jason stomps his way to his room, slamming the door after him.

When Steph shows up after class, Tim tells her not to bother him.

WAYNE FAMILY

Tim: @Bruce so wats his deal

Bruce: Dear Tim, what do you mean by that? sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Tim: chad

Tim: whats his night persona

Tim: his masked name

Bruce: Tim, Chad is not a vigilante. sincerely, Bruce Wayne

Dick: shoot

Dick: he’s a villain???

Bruce: Dear Dick, Chad is not a villain either. He’s just a civillian. sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Duke: dont he want to avenge his parents?

Bruce: Dear Duke, His parents are alive and well. They’re international activists currently on a mission to feed the poor somewhere in South America. sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Damian: That means he’s must be a sleeper agent of sorts. I’ll collect some of his DNA for examination. Drake, I trust you’ll do a thorough check on his background, official and otherwise.

Tim: on it

Bruce: Damian, if you get your second-cousin’s DNA to run tests, your weekend at the Kent farm is permanently cancelled.

Jason: so b you admit you text like it’s a business email just to fuck with us, huh?

Bruce: Dear Jason, Mind your language in front of your little brothers. Sometimes I’ll sacrifice the format for the sake of speed. Regardless, this is the ideal way of writing a text message. sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Bruce: @everyone Chad will be staying with us for a few weeks. He’s just a regular civilian with no tragic backstory, no metapowers and no secret identity. I expect all of you to behave like Alfred taught you and hide your secret identities like I trained you to. No one will investigate him or do anything to compromise our identities. Is that clear? Awaiting confirmation, Bruce Wayne

Cass: weird

Bruce: Dearest Cass, It’s not weird. Civilians exist. Sincerely, Bruce Wayne

Tim: not in our family they dnt!!!

Tim: cmon b you cant tell me s not suspicious!!!!!

Bruce: It is not.

Alfred: Master Bruce already checked his DNA for metagenes and ran a thorough background check with the help of miss Barbara. Unfortunately, Master Chad is clear.

Cass: weeeeeiiiiird

Tim decides to avoid Wayne manor for the foreseeable future. Instead, he buys Alfred’s favorite brand of tea and wonders if he can convince the butler to come over to stay with them for an afternoon or perhaps the whole weekend. Tim is more than willing to share the couch with Steph and let Alfred have his bed. He puts the tea away with a passive aggressive note letting Jason and Steph know that tea is to be saved for Alfred.

Jason is in the living room cleaning one of his guns while Steph does her homework on the carpet by his feet, meaning is just an afternoon like any other for them.

Tim has to remind himself of her resolution before he gives in the temptation of asking her to go patrolling with him. The thing is that his resolution is a lot easier to pursue when Batgirl is around, because she can deal with the civilians after the fact while Red Robin vanishes as soon as the criminals are in cuffs.

Alas. Working alone can be fun, too, he tells himself.

Before he heads out to get his suit, however, the buzzer sounds. He hears Steph cheering and saying something about pizza.

Then a voice that makes Tim freeze in horror.

“Oh, hey. I must have the wrong apartment. Is this Tim and Jason Wayne’s place?”

“Uhhhh…”

He runs so fast Bart would be proud, hoping he can sign at Steph to send him away before he sees them, but it’s too late. Tim rushes only to find out that, in all the glory of his khaki shorts and boat shoes, Chad Wayne is already inside his apartment.

Tim is very aware that Jason is frozen on the couch right behind him, still holding a gun.

“Chad! What a surprise!”

“Hey, Timbo!” Chad grins, looking genuinely happy to see him. “Damian told me you wouldn’t be working tonight and then he gave me your address!”

Why, god? Why hadn’t Tim killed Damian when he had the chance?

“And who is this lovely young woman?” He asks. “If she isn’t spoken for, I might want to steal her for me.”

“I’m his ex, actually, and I sort of live here.” Steph offers her hand. “I speak for myself.”

Instead of shaking her hand, Chad brings her fingers to his lips and gives them an excuse of a kiss. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma damme .”

Steph’s smile is too wide to be natural and her eyes look like they’re about to jump out of the sockets. Like the rest of the family, she seems to struggle to believe this guy is real. Tim can’t save her, he just wishes Jason would put away his things while cousin Chad is busy with Steph.

“So, Chad, it’s so nice to see you, but uhhh... What are you doing here?”

“Well, since you guys never go over I had to come see you! And trust me, I get it , when I let my folks’ place to go to college, I wanted to spend even the breaks at my frat house. Anyway, I thought I’d come here, we can order some take out and…”

His eyes finally find Jason and he freezes. “...is that a gun?”

Crap, poop, turd, crap,  crapcrapcrapcrap-

“Uhhh… yeah?”

In the same way when he heard that Jason doesn’t live with Bruce, Chad’s positive vibes vanish and he looks distraught.

“Guys… does Bruce know about that?”

Before anyone can stop him, Chad walks in like he owns the place and takes the seat by Jason’s side. Tim and Steph exchange a panicked look, both praying that the gun isn’t easy to assemble or at least that Jason doesn’t have any ammo within arms reach. The two hurry to join them, Steph dropping on the couch and casually leaning against Jason in a position that allows her to hold his arm should he decide to throw Chad out. Tim takes the arm of the couch closer to Chad, ready to pick him up and throw him away himself if he says something stupid.

“We keep it here for safety,” Jason says simply.

“Okay. Oof.” Chad reaches for Jason’s shoulder. “Look, I get it. Gotham is dangerous. But having a gun at home is more of a hazard than anything else, Jace. Can I call you Jace?”

“No.”

“Look, I’m an only son, but if I had a little brother like Tim, I’d want to show him a good example, you know? And guns are not the solution. Do you genuinely think you could shoot someone? I don’t think so. I served the army and there we learn that shooting a person is harder than you can imagine."

Tim can see Steph discreetly pinching Jason’s thigh to keep him in check. Jason looks like he’s asking himself if he’s in the Twilight zone.

There is a beat of silence and Jason opens his mouth. Tim braces himself. Before disaster hits, Steph blurts:

“Actually, that’s why Jason’s here.”

Fortunately, Chad doesn’t notice Jason’s and Tim’s perplexed faces because he’s focused on Steph again.

“Of course Bruce hates guns with his parents and all that,” she frowns sympathetically. “But… Chad, Jason died. Of course he’s getting therapy, but he still needs something to feel safe at least at home. Isn’t that right, Jay?”

She gently rubs his arm. Jason knows Steph enough to recognize the play along or you’re dead in her falsely upset expression.

“Uh… Right. That. I moved in with Tim because, uh, I know Bruce is weird with guns." Another pinch to his thigh. Clearly in a begrudging voice, he adds: "And I super agree with him. I mean, what if Damian found it?”

“God, no,” Tim deadpans. “I don’t want to even imagine Damian with a gun.”

“But Tim and he knows he's not to mess with it,” Jason adds.

“Bruce told me you’re here you and him are a bit at odds, but he didn’t tell me you fought over you having a gun.”

“Bruce doesn’t know and you can’t tell him,” Tim cuts in. Batman is definitely going to forget his no-killing rule if he finds out they let cousin Chad see Red Hood’s gun. “Please, Chad. I promise you we’re careful. We’re just trying to make the best out of a difficult situation.”

Tim hopes the mention that this is a touchy subject will deter Chad. He forgets to take in consideration that Chad thinks they’re his family despite him knowing literally nothing about them. He is under the very wrong impression that he's allowed to talk to them about personal shit. Which is great. This is just great.

“If it makes you feel better, this is temporary,” Jason says. “I talked to my, uh, my therapist about it and he cleared me to have the gun. When I start, you know, getting over the death trauma, I’ll get rid of it.”

“Right,” Steph nods eagerly. “We’re planning on throwing a party when we reach that point and everything.”

The three of them wait with baited breath as Chad considers their excuses, his expression somber. Then Chad opens his arms and pulls Tim and Jason into a triple hug.

“I get it,” he says in a hoarse voice he probably finds cool. “You do what you have to do to cope, man. Bruce told me you’re brave and I can see that’s true. And you, ” he squeezes Tim, “I heard from Dickie that you’re a little prodigy, but I’m so proud of you for being there for your brother!”

God, he has so many feelings. Tim promises himself he’ll never complain about Dick being clingy again. Dick has a Batman level of emotional constipation if compared to this guy.

“Right,” Jason pulls himself free from the hug. “I’m gonna put this away, alright?”

He gathers his cleaning supplies and the spare parts spread across the coffee table and takes it to his room. His expression says he's still trying to figure out what that was.

“But, Timbo…”

“Just Tim is fine.”

“I thought you didn’t know Jason before his death? Bruce adopted you kind of recently, didn’t he?”

“Uhhh… I don’t know what to tell you. Jason and I hit it off and became friends fast,” Tim says. “I mean, at first he hated me enough to want to slit my throat…”

“Wow, alright,” Jason interrupts as he returns, a pout on his lips. “I see we’re very comfortable joking about my early… grumpiness. It’s not something I feel guilt or still have nightmares about at all”

Tim almost snorts at that. “Like I was saying, we got better.”

Chad nods thoughtfully and leans back to be more comfortable, nothing about his body language suggesting he might be getting ready to leave.

“So!” Steph claps her hands together. “Thank you for understanding, Chad. Now maybe let's talk about something lighter, shall we?”

And that’s what they do, with some sttrugle. At first, Chad seems too upset to talk about anything and Steph has to use all of her charm to get him to forget about the fantastic start of his visit. Jason helps by making sarcastic remarks that almost sound genuine and Tim… Tim can’t do much.

He texts Cass and she agrees to take his patrol duty for the night. Tim considered making up an emergency at WE and going out anyway, but in the end he decided that was unfair to the others.

He also sends a message chewing on Damian for sending Chad his way without a warning. No one ever visits Tim’s apartment other than his family and his hero friends, so they could have been in full uniform in the middle of the living room. Damian responds with a dismissive text filled with words that Tim doesn’t know. Tim threatens to break all of his crayons and puts his phone away

By this point, Chad is a bit more like himself again and Tim almost wishes he stayed distressed, because the rest of the night is painfully weird. To avoid more awkward conversation, Jason puts on a random horror movie for them. Chad comments on how impressive it is that none of them seems to mind the gore. He squeals and groans and gives Steph a horrified look when she simply keeps eating her pepperoni pizza as though nothing of note is happening on the screen.

The thing is that the movie’s gore is decidedly inaccurate to the point that they barely recognize it for what it's supposed to be. Besides it’s nothing worse than some wounds they’d either suffered or seen as vigilantes.

Maybe it’s because Tim didn’t get the adrenaline he expected from patrol, but he ends up falling asleep on Jason’s shoulder during the climax of the second movie.

He wakes up alone on the couch with a blanket half-thrown over his legs. It's still the middle of the night and he has half a mind to go to his room before he hears muffled voices from the kitchen. Rubbing his eyes, he follows the sound without thinking much.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Steph greets him.

She and Jason apparently are building a castle of Uno cards in the middle of the kitchen table.

Tim joins them. “It’s 3am.”

“Witching hour,” Jason mumbles.

Steph gestures at the castle and offers Tim a card. He takes it.

“It was a dirty trick to fall asleep like that,” she tells him. “You missed the selfie party to celebrate the first time he visited Jace and Timbo.”

Tim groans. “He stayed long?”

“Too long.” Jason adds another pair of cards to the castle. “I think I have a headache and the Lazarus pit is supposed to make you immune to headaches.”

“That's what I was telling Jason before you got here, Tim. We’re socially capable, right?”

“Hmmm… Right, I guess.”

“How come we couldn’t get rid of him? Why were we so lost while we were, like, just hanging out with him? Is everyone outside of Gotham like that?”

Part of Tim is relieved that Steph hates Chad too. He thought he and Jason had finally caught Batman’s moodiness, but Steph is one of the most cheerful people he knows and her dry sense of humor and quick quips are a lot more bearable than cousin Chad’s peppy attitude.

The other part of him…

“I think it’s less about him not being from Gotham and more about him being a civilian,” Jason says.

The castle falls. None of them reacts.

“That can’t be right,” Steph says. “We have civilian friends and they’re not like that.”

“Do we?”

“Yeah! Jason-- Hm. Tim has Tam… Oh, forget it, she’s not talking to him again. I have Francisco and- I just remembered he’s the son of a gangster.” Steph pauses. “Huh. Do we seriously not know any civilians?”

They don’t. Not on a friendly level, at least.

Tim had considered that before, but he didn't want to think about it. It was weird he was so distant from a normal life that he felt unsettled by it. Not bad. Just weird. If he hadn’t found out Batman’s and Robin’s identities, would he grow up to be a Chad? Finishing high school, living in a frat house in college, and all that? Would he still be a Drake, neighbor to the Waynes?

He loves all of his siblings and Bruce and Alfred and he doesn’t want to consider a life without them.

However.

In a world without Batman. Bruce would still be a good man. He still wouldn’t hesitate in adopting an orphaned circus boy. He would probably also adopt the little shit that tried to steal his not-batmobile tires. If by a miracle he also adopted the boy next door that tragically lost his parents and a girl from a very broken family and a young boy whose parents couldn’t be there for him anymore. His gremlin of a biological son would have grown up beloved and incapable of harming anyone, let alone assassinating a person.

He remembers the plan to bring Jason back to the world of the living and how easy it had been for him and Bruce to put it together and make it seem believable, because in their world it was believable and it could have been the truth.

If Jason Wayne, a regular boy, son of a regular man, had been killed in a freak criminal act and brought back to life thanks to superhero shenanigans, all of them would have been there for him. Jason wouldn’t resent his father for not killing his murderers, because that wasn’t a possibility, and they’d find a way to get him to overcome the effects of the trauma. Bruce certainly wouldn’t spare effort or money to get his son back to full health.

If Stephanie’s father hadn’t been a super criminal, Tim’s first girlfriend wouldn’t hit him in the face with a brick on their first meeting. She would have been a normal girl with a normal life and she could even run into him at school. There is no doubt in his mind that he would have found and made Steph his friend no matter the universe, except… would he?

In that reality, he didn’t know what gore looked like. He would get too upset to function for half an hour at the mere sight of a gun. He’d visit relatives unannounced and the worst thing that could happen was to find them heading out as he arrives. He draws the line at the khakis and boat shoes, because he doesn’t think he’d wear those in any universe, but still.

That would not be Timothy Drake-Wayne. Tim had seen his own internal organs before. Tim’s not only unfazed by fire guns but also built some for his older brother. Tim is fully aware that visiting any of his siblings might mean walking into a ninja fight at worst and finding them pretending to drive the batmobile at best.

Steph and Jason don’t say anything for a while and Tim could easily blame it on the fact that it’s almost 4am and they have yet to sleep, but he knows it’s because they’re reaching the same conclusion he did: they’re not normal people. They always knew that, but knowing something and seeing evidence are two different things.

And again… it’s not bad. It’s not that Tim wouldn’t change anything about the past, it’s just that he doesn’t regret the life he lead up until this point.

It’s still weird. Too weird.

BABS

Babs: The red dynamic duo ship is back with a vengeance, huh?

Babs sent you a link.

Tim had never had a panic attack. Considering the life he leads, that’s a pretty surprising thing. However, that text from a woman he considers part of his family kicks his fight-or-flight instinct like nothing in the world could. He clicks on it. He reads the article.

He screams into a pillow for about ten minutes.

Jason and Steph find him lying face down on the floor trying to get his phone’s AI to buy him a ticket to Smallville. He's sure Conner will take him in. He’ll work at the farm. He’ll stop being Red Robin. He doesn’t care.

It’s an article from a teen magazine.

TIM WAYNE AND MYSTERY MAN?

Ah, the Wayne Family. Our favorite and most iconic family of Gotham. Timothy Drake-Wayne (18), or Tim, how he prefers to be called, has been under our radar for quite a while and not just because of his cute face. The young CEO of Wayne Enterprises and heir to Drake Industries is smart, rich and incredibly charming if the rumors are true. That being said, the question we’re all asking is: how is this boy still single?

Little to nothing is known about Tim Wayne’s love life and we were all crazy to know if he is in the market for a girlfriend.

Well, ladies, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Tim Wayne might have a special someone. Nothing is confirmed yet, but Chad Wayne (26), Tim’s adoptive father’s cousin, shared a rather interesting picture on his snapchat.

[IMAGE]

Once we got over how freaking hot Chad is looking, we noticed something in the background. Right behind Chad, we can barely see someone that looks exactly like Tim Wayne fast asleep on the shoulder of a real heartthrob. Our suspicions were confirmed by Chad’s caption that said “visiting the little cousins”!

It’s a well-known fact that Tim Wayne is openly bisexual, so could this be his boyfriend? Or are they just dudes being bros, unbothered by toxic masculinity? Only time will tell.

THE BIRDNEST

spoiler alert sent a screenshot.

spoiler alert: lmao

WonderWing: … ok first I thought it was funny but now I’m concerned

WonderWing: do I need to talk to them?

WonderWing: do I need to talk our dad???

In the hood: WHY THE FUCK DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO US?

In the hood: WHY IS ANYONE SEEN NEAR THIS DAMN KID AUTOMATICALLY HIS SIGNIFICANT OTHER??

send me a Signal: scratch that what is this openly bisexual business?

send me a Signal: I mean we know hes bi but hes not that vocal bout it?

spoiler alert: lmao tell em dick

WonderWing: lololol when he was like 12 there were rumors that Jack Drake’s son was gay right?

WonderWing: high society trashy gossip

WonderWing: around the same time his mom thought it was a good idea to let him be interviewed for this random magazine

WonderWing: they mentioned the rumors prolly because they wanted him to like say something motivational about bullying or wtv

send me a Signal: i think i know where this is going

send me a Signal: what did he say?

spoiler alert: i like my men how i like my women

send me a Signal: of course he did

spoiler alert: yeah and he wasnt out to his parnts yet so that part is less fun

send me a Signal: oof

In the hood: are you kidding me? Tim came out to the whole world because he couldn’t stop himself from making a dumb bi joke? Why can’t he stay in the closet like the rest of us?

Boss A$$ Bat: Bi rights

WonderWing: steph did you change cass nickname again

spoiler alert: ye

Boss A$$ Bat: I like it (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

send me a Signal: wait tims too quiet where is he

in the Hood: Steph took away his phone because he kept trying to book a flight to Smallville to become a farmer.

send me a Signal: of course. why wouldnt he.

Chad apologizes profusely for not noticing Tim and Jason were on that shot, but thankfully he does it over the phone so Tim can hang up halfway through his heartfelt apology.

The kids that still live in the manor aren't so lucky.

Tim gets a stream of facetimes from Duke, Cass and even Damian. Apparently Chad won't stop asking Cass to speak up, because she can, why bother with this weird sign stuff? (Cass stops Duke from hitting him.) He insists on asking Damian to play football with him until Damian knocked him out with a ball to the face. Bruce forced Damian to pretend he dislocated his shoulder on the stunt to prevent further invitations. Even though Duke is, by all means, perfect, Chad keeps stalking him and asking about his opinions on his siblings and if he thinks Bruce is doing the best job on raising them. The answers never satisfy him and he keeps asking as though he thinks the boy will change his mind if caught by surprise. Duke starts using his powers to jump out of the window whenever Chad is about to walk into the room until he lands on Alfred's roses. The fact that the butler isn't mad, just disappointed causes Duke to stop his daring escapes.

Bruce, despite his cool facade, isn't much better. He now has to keep his public persona at home too and, when it isn't driving him insane, he is being annoyed by his children exchanging weird looks and holding back giggles while he plays the himbo part.

Long story short, Chad is making a few days feel like torturing years.

The breaking point is the day Tim walks into his living room only to find Steph and Damian sitting on the couch facing each other while she dutifully paints his nails black.

“What is happening?” Tim asks. “Did I fall into a parallel Earth?”

“Tt, do not concern yourself with us, Drake. I’m here for Brown, not for you.”

Steph smirks at him.

“What the- Okay, first of all this apartment is mine and Jason’s. Steph doesn’t live here. Sometimes. Second… Since when do you get along with Steph?”

“I tolerate her.”

“What the hell? That’s like I love you in Gremlin language! Since when did you get Damian?”

Her smirk widens and Tim more or less expects her to do a little victory dance. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. I’m just irresistible.”

“Hm.” Tim turns to Damian. “Chad drove you out of the house and Bruce didn’t let you go to Dick's place in Bludhaven, right?”

“Father says I cannot miss school.”

“Great. If you’re going to become our second unofficial roommate, please stay away from Jason’s pots. He says he has a system and he's a nightmare when we mess with them.”

“I would never spend more time than necessary in your disgusting nest.”

“You’re literally on my couch! Letting my best friend paint your nails! You freaking pest!”

And Damian isn’t the only one.

Cass used to come over regularly, but the frequency of her visits increases dramatically now that Chad is staying at the manor. She isn’t bad to be around, though, as she mostly keeps training in the basement or napping on the couch that Steph is more than happy to share with her. When Tim asks why she doesn’t simply stay in the Batcave, Cass tells him Bruce is keeping their time at the cave to a minimum because Chad noticed sometimes they vanish even if all cars were in the garage.

Chad is also painfully public. He’s constantly tweeting and updating his Instagram and making sure everyone and their mother knows what he’s doing, who’s with him and where they are. That makes it difficult to kick him out without drawing attention. Gotham's elite is a nest of gossip and intrigue and people ought to ask uncomfortable questions if a rich guy sends a rich relative away for seemingly no reason. Bruce might be the most private person in the world, but Brucie Wayne is supposed to be a fun-loving man.

Cass convinces Tim not to make much fun of Bruce, because apparently, after Chad posted a picture of him and Bruce trying to bake and Brucie is wearing an apron that says “Kiss the Bat!”, Superman himself called him only to laugh for ten minutes. Tim Supposes that’s punishment enough.

When Duke is the one seeking shelter, it isn’t as fun. As much as Tim likes the guy, he’s a chronic worrier in a completely different way of Tim. He wants to make sure they're all living healthy lives and eating properly and, for some reason, whether Steph and Jason are bullying Tim. He question things such as the fact that Steph is ruining her back on the couch, Tim’s habit of leaving dirty dishes in the sink overnight and the lack of the right brands of food, whatever that means. Tim gets tired of it pretty fast, but he also finds that being unnecessarilly dark is a efficient way to get Duke to shut up.

“So Steph basically moved in, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you guys share the rent or…?”

“I own the building, Duke.”

“Right. So she doesn’t pay any bills.”

“She kills bugs for us sometimes. She buys candy, too.”

"Does Jason pay bills?"

"He does. We split it evenly between the two of us."

"Huh. Where does he get any money?"

"Don't know. Don't care."

"Is Bruce okay with that?"

"If Bruce wanted to have a say in my life he shouldn't have died and forced me to get emancipated."

"... Tim, I love you so much, man, but sometimes it's hard to be your brother."

"I know, Duke. I love you too, Duke."

One night, he comes back from patrol and he finds all of his siblings literally camping in the living room. Someone even built a pillow fort by tying a preposterous amount of blankets to the porch door and the TV stand. Too tired to care, Tim turns to his room.

“Good night, Jay. Good night, Steph. Good night, parasites that do not live here.”

“You take back those words on this instant, Drake,” Damian hisses, but fortunately someone (Steph) tucked him too tightly into his sleeping bag, so there’s nothing he can do but wiggle around like an angry worm.

“Why are we parasites?” Duke asks from his air mattress. “I’ve done the dishes. That’s more than what Steph does.”

“Good night, Tim,” Cass says from… somewhere. They know she found a place to sleep. They don’t know where it is.

DAD

Tim: brus pls get rid of him

Dad: I can’t, Tim, it’d be suspicious to kick out a relative for no reason.

Tim: every1 is living at my place bc of him

Tim: even damian

Tim: do u kno how insuferable a man has to be that damian would rather spend time with jason and i

Dad: If everyone being at your place is bothering you so much, why don’t you invite Chad?

Tim: … no. ur not pushing him to me.

Dad: Chad and you are close in age, aren’t you? You could get along if you tried.

Tim: i 19! he 26!

Dad: Jason is 22 and he’s your best friend.

Tim: conner is my best friend

Tim: jason is a partner in crime at best

Dad: If you’re able to think of something to shorten Chad’s visit, I’m all ears. I admit it’s inconvenient to have him here. Otherwise, I think spending time with your siblings will do you some good.

Tim: i hate you

Dad: Alright, Tim.

Tim: … ok that was a lie and im sorry i love u bruss

Dad: I love you too, Tim.

One day, Tim goes to the kitchen for a mug of coffee and finds Barbara comfortably working on her laptop.

“...you don’t even live at the manor.”

“Hm? Oh, I’m not avoiding cousin Chad, Steph just invited me over for waffles.”

Tim just takes his coffee and leaves without saying anything else.

And then shit finally hits the fan.

Because Tim isn’t an idiot like Bruce, he didn’t make his public persona something that would be painful for him to play. As far as Gotham’s society knows, Tim Drake-Wayne is a calm and collected young man, work-driven and not too ill-mannered for a rich boy, which isn’t as different from the real Tim. Real Tim is an overworked ball of anxiety that appears to be a calm and collected young man, so no one is surprised when he doesn’t acknowledge the rumors about him and the mysterious man.

At least not until a son of a bitch with too much free time decides to ruin his brother’s life on twitter.

@earthnotflatffs101 yo don’t this dude with tim drake low key look like jason todd?

And the motherfucker even dared to repost Chad’s selfie and an old picture of a 13 year-old Jason walking alongside Bruce.

Of course the tweet goes viral.

Everyone starts talking about the eerie resemblance between Tim’s buddy and his deceased brother that he supposedly never met. Some find it tasteless that everyone is making a conspiracy theory out of an allegedly dead child, but they are quickly overpowered by the wave of old gossip being revisited. It takes one Sunday afternoon for everyone to start pointing out how weird it is that Tim Drake left the Wayne manor seemingly out of the blue and started living by himself at such a young age and how my sense it’d make for him to share a place with a brother. They notice Chad captioned the picture as "visiting the cousins" plural even if it's public knowledge that Tim Drake- Wayne lives alone. People start demanding to know who is the mystery man lending his shoulder to Tim, tagging the few Waynes with known social media in their posts and even WE corporate account.

It’s the very definition of a shit show, in Tim’s humble opinion.

Red Robin and Batgirl skip their Sunday patrol to brainstorm ideas of damage control. Damian is pacing around the kitchen as the two of them desperately try to apply an algorithm Oracle made to make sure less people will see posts about Jason Todd. There’s not a lot they can do about the fact that #IsJasonToddAlive? is trending. They’re so distressed that Damian forgets to be unpleasant.

“I see no other option,” Damian says at some point. “We should kill that man before he ruins our family any further.”

“How would killing him solve anything?” Tim groans.

“It would make me feel better.”

“No.”

“His death would cause people to forget about Todd.”

“... Go on.”

“Tim, you’re not going to let Dami kill Chad.”

“Why not!”

“Because with our track record he’s going to come back with radioactive powers or some shit.”

“That would be good! He’d finally fit in with the family! As it is now, we’re becoming the freaking Kardashians with a hint conspiracy theory, Steph!”

That’s not the biggest problem, though.

The problem is that Jason doesn’t come home on that night.

Tim and Steph wait for hours after Damian finally calms down in his sleeping bag, but the sun rises and Jason’s room remains empty.

He isn’t freaking out, by any means. Jason is an adult man and he can handle himself. He used to go missing by months at a time before moving in with Tim. He must be busy doing Red Hood stuff. He could let them know he’s okay, just for shits and giggles, but it’s alright. He doesn’t owe them anything.

On the third day after #isJasonToddAlive went viral, Tim and Steph go on patrol even if it’s not their turn. It’s a spur of the moment thing, because they’re home and bored. They agree to split up and just ride around town aimlessly, see what happens and meet at the end of the night to grab waffles at that 24 hour diner Steph likes so much.  One that Jason first took her to after one particular bad night in which she failed to stop a mugger from shooting their victim.

He is just riding his bike, not paying attention to where the wheels take him. It’s just a coincidence that he ends up in Red Hood’s old territory. He hears from some loiterers that Batgirl had been seen roaming around just south from where he is. He keeps his patrol focused on the north side.

A beeping sound informs him that someone is trying to contact him. He accepts it almost right away.

“ Jason ?”

“Nope, it’s me, Timmy,” Dick’s voice answers.

He sighs. And cringes when he realizes he broke the no-real-names-when-in-uniform rule. He’s lucky it isn’t Batman calling him. “Sorry, Nightwing, I thought… Never mind. You need something?”

“No, it’s just that I just got here at the manor. I thought I’d let you know.”

“Oh. Is everything okay? I didn’t even know you were coming back.”

“Well, with this whole Jason is alive thing blowing up I thought I’d come home, help in any way I can. Reporters are driving B insane.”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah. Also… Do you know Jason’s here?”

There is a beat. Tim presses the breaks with too much force and it’s a miracle that his bike doesn’t simply throw him away with how fast he stops.

“ What? ”

Dick chuckles over the comm. “I figured he didn’t tell you. Do what you want with this information. I’m gonna help Alfred now.”

Tim doesn’t bother saying goodbye, but he’s sure Dick will forgive him. He’s already pressing the buttons on his wrist pad to contact someone else. “Batgirl? Meet me at the cave. Now.”

It takes a lot of effort to stop Steph from storming into the manor through the main entrance in full Batgirl gear. And it’s a good thing Tim managed it, because there is a literal swarm of reporters in front of the gates and Tim wonders if anything happened in the short two hours he was out patrolling.

Once they’re in the cave, they’re careful enough to change into civies. Unlike Tim, Steph doesn’t have clothes stashed there so she simply steals a sweater from Damian’s locker while Tim checks the news.

“Someone saw the mystery man that looks like Jason Todd getting into Bruce Wayne’s car two days ago, ” he tells her when she comes out of the changing room. “How did we miss that?”

“I don’t know, you’re the tech dude,” she groans. “Maybe we hid so much crap the computer started hiding it from us too.”

It’s an explanation as good as any other and the truth is unimportant now. They climb out of the cave with unusual care, checking twice to make sure no one is around to see them emerge from the secret passage. As soon as the cave entrance is hidden, they hear altered voices.

Steph reaches for Tim’s hand when they walk towards the commotion and intertwines their fingers. One could think the gesture was a request for comfort. Tim had been friends with her long enough that it was a silent plea to hold her back if she needs to fight the urge to dropkick someone.

“... can’t simply hide him forever, Brucie!” They hear Chad saying.

Then, in a deep voice that isn’t quite Bruce or quite Batman, but that is still firm and definitive:

“If you can’t agree with me, feel free to leave. But stay aware that if you do anything to expose my son to unnecessary attention, I will not take it lightly.”

They walk into the room to find a Chad that looks somewhere between mildly horrified and extremely angry. Bruce is standing against the fireplace and he is definitely using the shadow he’s casting to appear bigger and more threatening, a trick he usually only uses when he’s wearing a cowl.

“What’s going on?” Tim asks.

“Tim!” Chad turns to him. “Get your father to see reason. I’ve been telling him that this is the perfect time to tell everyone Jason is alive. He wants to… to hide him like he’s a dirty secret.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “What does Jason think?”

“Jason doesn’t know what’s best, Tim, he’s not okay! He has a gun in your house, for crying out loud!”

For the sake of the intensity of the argument, Tim pretends not to notice the batglare he’s getting from his father and focuses on giving Chad a batglare of his own:

“So? You have a problem with my brother?”

Steph is squeezing his hand enough to hurt. He isn’t sure who’s holding who back now.

Chad takes a step back. “You people are insane. Mom was right. Trying to help you guys is useless.”

“ That’s what you’ve been trying to do?” Steph blurts.

Chad shakes his head and storms out of the room… And just like that, Chad’s gone. Gone from their lives, hopefully forever, and if not... Tim knows last year Duke learned a lot about restraining orders.

“I was wondering when you two would come pick him up,” Bruce says. “I hoped it’d take a little longer, it’s nice having him home.”

“Where is he?”

“First… what is this about a gun?”

“First of all, it was Damian’s fault for giving him our address.” Steph shrugs. “Second of all, the gun is the least dangerous thing in Jason’s room and right now I’m more dangerous than any weapon you have, so where is he ?”

“Library.”

They bolt out of the room and straight upstairs. Tim is so caught in the relief of the biggest source of problem being gone that he gets careless. Jason always said Tim is too quick to forgive, even if he doesn’t forget, and he guesses that is true. When he enters the library and he finds himself facing a startled Jason, he’s not angry. Mildly annoyed, for sure. Relieved that his worst paranoiac fears rooted in PTSD are proven to be untrue. Concerned by the fact that Jason looks almost small, younger, maybe because he’s wearing one of Bruce’s shirts or because his expression is so off guard.

But, most importantly, Tim isn’t holding Steph’s hand anymore.

“Jason Todd, you mOTHERFUCKER!”

“No, don’t- ”

But it’s too late. She leaps and dropkicks him and Jason screams in pain and soon the two of them are literally rolling on the floor yelling insults at each other and knocking an entire table sideways. Tim sighs.

“Say uncle! Say uncle right now, you musky bitch!”

“ It’s musty, dumbass!!”

“You’re that, too!”

He sits down in one of the comfy reading chairs and waits for them to get it all out of their system. At some point, Steph is straddling Jason’s back pulling him backwards by the nostrils and he somehow is reaching back to tickle her sides and both of their gazes meet Tim’s unimpressed glower. They stop.

“You two done?”

“She started it!”

“ Bitch- ”

“Enough already,” Tim groans. He waits until both look appropriately ashamed and get off of each other. “Steph is right, though, what the fuck, Jason?”

Jason cringes, but still tries to play it cool, as though nothing unusual happened. “The news had my face, I decided to lay low.”

“And how’s that working out for you?” Steph snaps. “It took us three whole days to find you without actively looking. Bruce found you even before.”

“Also lay low hiding from what? Us?”

Grumbling something impossible to understand, he stands and crosses his arms in a clear attempt to look tough. In the absence of his leather jacket and the presence of all of Tim’s annoyance he only looks stupid.

“Look, I freaked out, alright? Me being found out was my fault.”

“How the heck is Chad’s stupid selfie your fault?”

“Because I knew it was a bad idea, okay?” Jason snaps. “I shouldn’t have sat there and made dumb excuses, I should have told him to fuck off the moment he saw my gun. I noticed him taking the stupid pictures, but I didn’t even care that I could be in one of them, I thought it wasn’t worth waking Tim up. All these months playing house and messing around with you guys made me reckless and soft. ”

Steph retreats a step as if he had slapped her.

“Okay, Jason, I’m willing to put up with a lot of angsty bullshit from you, but… Is that really what you think of us? That we’re, we’re what, bringing you down?”

“That’s not what I said!” He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“No,” Tim interrupts. “He's right.” When Steph makes to argue, he raises a hand asking her to listen. “You did grow reckless. That’s what you’re supposed to do, Jason. You’re supposed to relax and have down time and mess around with us. And if shit happens… We have each others' backs. You’d known that if you had come home, because you’d know Steph and I spent the past three days trying to cover for your stupid butt, since we knew you’d want that.”

Jason doesn’t say anything for a minute. When Steph doesn’t either, Tim continues:

“You don’t have to just survive anymore, you know? I thought you knew that when you agreed to live with us. You’re family.”

“You sound like Dick.”

“I mean, Dick was the first person that treated me like family. Maybe that’s why I was so... Hm. Never mind.”

“You’re still upset he fired you, huh?”

“No. I mean, I have been. But I know now it wasn’t personal. He was doing the best he could, even if he didn’t really understand what I needed back then. I know Dick always loved me.”

“Hm. Did you talk to him so he could apologize or did you work all that on your own and forgave him by yourself?”

“Nice try, but right now we’re talking about your issues, not mine.”

Because Steph had been awful quiet for a while - which is something highly unusual - they turn to her in question. They find her wearing her furious expression, the one that puts fear for their lives in criminals hearts, but the effect is ruined by the fact that her big eyes are pooled with tears.

“Oh shit. That’s new. I didn’t know she did that. I thought she destroyed her tear ducts when she was a kid or something. What do I do?”

She simply shakes her head. “I get you, Jay,” she says, her voice a bit wobbly. “Admitting you have something means knowing you can lose it. But is the fear of losing it worth throwing it away altogether?”

Jason pulls her into a hug. She sniffles and rubs her face on his chest, purposefully wiping her runny nose there before she hugs him back.

“I hate you so much, Jason.”

“I hate you too, Steph,” he says softly. “And, from the bottom of my heart, my bad.”

She sniffles again. “Tim, get your gay ass over here. This is a triple hug situation.”

Tim snorts and mumbles something about the fact that Dick can never find out about this or he’ll never forgive them for not including him.

He joins the triple hug nonetheless.

The trio ends up sitting on the floor, their backs resting against the table Steph and Jason knocked over. They learn that Jason had escaped to one of his old hideouts when he heard the news. He was both annoyed and creeped out to find Bruce already there waiting for him and the fucker had the gall to bring Alfred along to make sure Jason wouldn’t say no.

In exchange, they tell him Damian was offering to kill Chad on Jason’s behalf, which makes him bit moved.

“Bruce had already said everything you said, by the way,” he tells Tim. “It’s scary how you’re more like him than his own biological son.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “We said the same thing because we’re right.”

“It almost sounds like you do want me to go out and tell everyone I’m alive.”

“I mean, yeah, but that doesn’t matter.”

“Wait, what?” Steph frowns. “You want people to know Jason’s alive? Then why did you make me spend hours sitting in front of a computer hunting tweets about this glorified zombie?”

“Because if Jason’s secret goes out, it’s for us, not for him,” Tim says. “It’s a pain to be part of a public family. We’d get to go out in public without worrying about being seen and to, I don’t know, post stupid pictures online, mock old people together in Bruce’s galas, but it also means that he would have to avoid reporters and have a double life like the rest of us do.”

After Tim finishes speaking, Steph nods as if that makes sense. Jason finds himself frowning at his feet.

“I’m gonna do it.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m gonna come out as a living person. I’ll maybe even pepper in the fact I’m also queer, just to spice things up.”

“Jay, you don’t have to…”

“No, I don’t. When it was Chad’s bullshit about me having to live my best life, I wasn’t going to, but if it’s for you guys, I can do it. Steph’s right. I can’t live a half live." His smile twists into something wicked. "And I know exactly how to do it.”

Congratulations, @JasonToddWayne! Your twitter account has been successfully created.

The first and only post is a picture of a man in a leather jacket and sunglasses in the middle of a fancy lobby. Hanging upside down from the chandelier above him is no one other than Dick Grayson-Wayne holding a flashlight right behind the man’s head to simulate a bright aura. Around him, some kneeling, some standing, but all holding out their arms towards him are all of the Wayne kids, Tim, Cassandra, Duke and even Damian. If you look closely, you can see a smiling butler on the background and, further, a shadow that looks very much like Bruce Wayne facepalming.

The caption of the picture simply says: I lived, bitch.

@dgraysonman retweeted that.

@stephssss retweeted that.

@thomascommaduke retweeted that

@babsgeez retweeted that

@BruceWayne retweeted that

The thing about being part of a scandal you purposefully caused is that you get to kick back and watch the world burn around you while you wear an evil little grin on your face whenever people ask what the hell you were thinking. Tim used to get annoyed by interview requests that had nothing to do with WE and everything to do with his personal life, but for once he enjoys watching the messages piling up and eventually saying no to all of them.

Bruce makes a brief and vague declaration about his son being back from the dead, no big deal, and he expects everyone can respect his family's privacy in this delicate moment. He gives the press just enough and refuses to elaborate. Only liars give too many details and they’re not lying. Not entirely, at least.

Of course, Jason doesn’t help by posting the weirdest freaking memes to his twitter account and, whenever someone tries to get answers from his, his retorts vary widely from “I returned from the grave to wash Damian’s mouth with soap” to “I was captured by a group of murderous ninja that dipped my corpse in a cursed pool that brought me back to life”. Unfortunately, he gets verified and no man should hold so much power.

They return to their lives, Tim in his room, Jason in his and Steph on her couch. Sometimes they even meet in the kitchen to play Uno and prank call Dick - it never works, because Dick always says he’s flattered that they wanted to hear his voice, but it’s the thought behind it that counts.

They go on patrol sometimes. By this time, the public seems to have caught on that Batgirl and Red Robin are basically a duo. Sometimes the Red Hood is included in the mix. For once, Tim doesn’t mind that they know as much.

He thinks they’re heading towards more peaceful days.

DUCK DUCK BRUISE

Duck Robin: hey stephanie what the hell

Duck Hood: Do I even want to know

Bruise: we need our own groupchat

Duck Hood: Why is it named that?

Bruise: bc we red red and purple

Bruise: u never played duck duck bruise?

Duck Robin: its duck duck goose steph

Bruise: u and i led v different childhoods

Duck Hood left the chat

Bruise added Jason Todd to the chat

Bruise changed Jason Todd’s name to Duck Hood

Bruise: u cant escape us jay

Drake Robin: one of us! one of us! one of us!

Duck Hood: Next time either of you complain about not getting laid I’ll show you a screenshot of this conversation.

Jason, Tim and Steph are walking home. It’s still day and, even if the sun isn’t quite shining because this is still Gotham, it’s nice and warm outside. The reason they went to get groceries together is because Jason had been horrified to find out that neither Tim nor Steph knew how to pick fruit and they spent a good part of their afternoon arguing over which apple was the ripest. Tim refused to get out of the shopping cart until their groceries were paid.

It had been fun.

Steph forced them to carry all the bags, arguing that she is but a frail young woman even if Tim is pretty sure she can bench press him. The real reason is because she wants to play Pokemon Go on the walk home and that’s valid, so they carry the bags. She is one of the few people of Gotham that isn’t afraid of getting mugged, so she might as well use that privilege.

A text stops her from catching a bulbasaur right before it stops her entirely.

“Steph?” Tim calls, his brow furrowing in worry.

“It’s happening again,” she whispers.

The brothers approach her to look at her phone. They’re already familiar with this at this point, so none of them is surprised to see a headline and a picture.

MYSTERIOUS BOMBSHELL SEEN LEAVING JASON WAYNE’S APARTMENT

Tim recognizes the outfits they wore two days ago on the day he snapped and forced them to take out the trash together, which ended a week long battle of wills. It’s also the day the biggest bag ripped open and an obscene amount of RedBull cans rolled down the curb. The picture is them watching the disaster. Steph is a pretty girl, but that picture is not doing her any favors. Her face is all scrunched up, as Gothamites tend to be on the rare occasions they see the sun, part of the ripped trash bag still in her hand. Jason has his hands on his hips looking like every bit of the mother hen he is and he is wearing crocs over socks (Tim has sworn to kill Roy Harper for corrupting his brother like that, making him think that’s an okay thing to do and say disgusting things like just try it, you annoying hipster, it’s comfy. )

“You know what? They called me a bombshell, I’m not even mad.”

“How come it’s Jason’s apartment? I’m literally the only person in this household with a dayjob!”

“First of all I'm an university student. Second, you only do actual work because you’re a sucker, you’re all trust fund babies. And that includes you, mr. Crime Lord.”

“Thank you, miss Eats All my Fucking Food.”

They resume their walk without reading the rest of the article. Tim thinks to himself that this is not too bad. Then it gets worse.

“Hey. Are those reporters?” Steph asks. “In front of our house?”

It only takes a glance to find out that she’s right. There is a small group of people hanging out near their apartment complex even though there’s no apparent reason to be there. Any decent Gothamite knows you don’t loiter for no reason, because you never know when the freaking Killer Croc is going to randomly pop out of the sewer or some crap. Those people are there with a purpose and that purpose involves a lot of them holding cameras.

“Yeah, I’m out,” Tim says.

“What?”

“This is the first time I’m not involved in the news. I’m going to enjoy my immunity. You two are on your own for this one.”

He turns his back to them. Enough is enough. Sometimes you just have to draw a line in the sand, let the universe know what you’re willing to put up with on that day. Tim is not willing to deal with this. He gestures at Steph and Jason not to follow him as he stalks into the adjacent empty alley. He takes a long, deep breath and shouts at the top of his lungs:

“COOONNEEEEEEEEEEER!”

Tim had never been better, or at least that’s what he tells himself 50 times in a row. He chose to be in denial and deny he will. He sits on the floor of his best friend’s room and takes a deep calming breath of the fresh air coming through the window. It doesn’t smell like gritty cities or nosey reporters at all.

Conner finally comes back and hands him a bowl of popcorn before taking a seat by his side. He turns on the old television in his room. Tim smiles.

“Hey, your siblings are on the news,” Conner says.

Tim glances at the phone Conner is holding. It’s a picture of Steph walking into their building carrying Jason in her arms as one would carry a toddler, one arm supporting his bottom and the other pointing threateningly at the camera. There is no doubt in Tim's mind that they’re mimicking the meme on purpose. He doesn’t bother reading the headline. He doesn’t want to know. He simply puts the phone aside and hugs Conner.

“I don’t want to go back to Gotham ever again. Let me live here, please.”

Conner laughs. “Sure, Ma’s been trying to get me to kidnap you for a while now.”

“Good. I’m going to learn farm work. I’ll bring honor to us all.”

“Sure," Conner pets his hair. "It’s been a whole day now. You already miss Jason and Stephanie, don’t you?”

“...yeah.”

“I’ll fly you back home tonight.”

“Thanks, Conner, you’re the best.”

Despite everything, there’s no place like home.