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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

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Day 19: Prinxiety/Loceit (pt 3)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 is here, with a little added something thrown in! Hope you enjoy!

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 19 - Everyone is born with a compass on their wrist, the needle of the compass points towards your soulmate.

Trigger/content warnings!! Dissociation, PTSD, talk of conversion therapy and aftereffects/internalized homophobia, food mentions, nausea, anxiety/panic attack, unintentionally skipping meals, emetophobia/vomiting, pulling hair (does that count as self harm?).

Word count: 5k

He barely remembered the hospital. It was all just a blur of doctors and police officers and more sleep than he’d gotten in weeks. After the first night of twitching in the dark confines of his hospital room and waking up screaming from nightmares the few brief seconds his consciousness faded, he was given sleeping pills, and the rest of the visit was quickly forgotten. The clearest part of the two week stay was near the end, when he was deemed physically well enough to give a statement to his social worker and a policeman, describing his ‘therapy’ and his life at the foster home, which quickly dissolved into a panic attack. They had enough though, and he was left with a sick satisfaction that they weren’t getting away with what they’d done to him.

They’d lied to him. They had told him the system agreed with what they were doing, allowing it, condoning it. At first, he’d refused to believe them, because that made no sense. But they took his only form of contact, didn’t allow him to leave the house except for therapy, and his eventual addition of medication far too strong for him made him paranoid. Maybe he didn’t believe them as much as he was just trying to survive. He still didn’t know how they’d managed to keep up the charade when they were being checked on bi-weekly; he hadn’t even known when said visits were happening.

“They’ll be spending some time in prison for child abuse. Not nearly enough, but still,” A social worker said quietly as he drove him back to his old group home. Virgil stared numbly out the window. “The kids were taken from them for the time being. They were deemed unfit parents. Foster care until they can find either some relatives or the parents are allowed them back.”

He didn’t react, although his heart nearly stopped in his chest. The parents hadn’t been great, but the kids had been happy enough. And now they were forced into a shoddy system… because of him. Virgil blinked rapidly to stop the tears that threatened to flow.

“You alright, Virge?”

He finally turned from the blurry mass of green trees out the car window, turning blankly to the man driving. The worker glanced from the road to meet his eyes, sighing.

No, he wasn’t alright. But he’d never say otherwise. Volunteering information about himself was how he’d gotten himself into this situation in the first place. He wasn’t about to do it again.

----------

That had been almost a month ago, and he was still to break out of his selective mutism. It wasn’t as if he was choosing not to speak; it wasn’t stubbornness. He felt as if his brain and his mouth were disconnected, like his thoughts were less coherent and more just abstract emotion, and he couldn’t turn them into words. Any question that couldn’t be answered by a simple nod or head shake was met with a blank stare, a far off gaze, that was unnerving to anyone. They’d tried to put him back into therapy, but the moment it was mentioned, Virgil spiralled into the worst panic attack he could ever remember having.

He’d gotten his old room back, with two new kids as his roommates. He quickly built up the same reputation as before: this room is mine unless you’re sleeping. No kid wanted to be near him when he was awake, staring at nothing, his only movements being his occasional blinking. Frankly, the younger ones were scared of him.

And he didn’t care.

Some days he fell so deep into dissociating that he didn’t even react when he was called for dinner. The world around him dissolved, blurry and unfocused and just quiet, retreating into his own mind where he could breathe. Reality was too much. It was just… too much. One of his doctors had said it might be a side effect as they eased him off his criminally high dose of antipsychotics they’d hidden in his drinks, but that was an afterthought. He was warm, he was full (when he was aware enough to eat), and so he faded into his head. He’d cope with his trauma another day.

“You haven’t eaten all day, honey,” A soft voice said and he blinked, looking up from his bed sheets at the worker. She was one of his favorites; gentle, quiet, respecting his boundaries. In her hands was a plate with dinner on it.

He gave an almost imperceptible nod, barely more than a single bob, and she sat across from him on the bed, placing the plate in front of him. With heavy hands, he lifted a cold green bean to his mouth. It was gross, but the plate was empty in minutes. Apparently it had been a whole day.

“Virgil, I want to talk to you,” She said. Now full, his brain would let him stay present for a little while until dissociation took over again. He pushed himself back against the wall and brought his knees to his chest, watching her movements.

“It’s not anything bad, I promise. I’ve been talking with some other workers, some connections I have across the state.”

He didn’t like where this was going.

“One of them suggested a couple that’s fostered for over a decade. They have a fantastic record, so I got into contact with them-”

“No.” The first thing he’d said in weeks, his voice scratchy from disuse. For once, the mess in his brain came together to form the single word, an immediate rejection. He pushed himself farther away from her, shaking his head violently. “No, no, no.”

“Virgil, breathe,” She reached out a hand and Virgil flinched so hard his head hit the wall. The hand retreated. “You don’t have to go with them if you’re uncomfortable, hun. Please just trust me, though, they’d never do anything that they did.”

He glared at her, trying to read her expression in the dark room. Silence stretched between them as Virgil’s thoughts drifted back to their state of quietude, leaving him unable to form words, beginning to drift away from reality. His eyelids flickered as focusing became harder, his mind’s eye suddenly alight with the blinding white lights of the therapy room.

“Will you meet them at least, Virgil? Just for a few minutes? And if you still say no after, I’ll never bring them up again.”

He found himself nodding without properly meaning it. He just wanted her to leave… he just wanted to be alone. So he could drift away, without having to fear anyone hurting him anymore.

She left, taking the empty plate with her.

----------

Just because he knew today he was meeting his potential (not gonna happen) foster parents, it didn’t mean he was allowed to be present for the rest of the day. His favorite worker had come back again, motivating him to get ready and dressed, since he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to find the energy to even just put on a sweater, much less get himself completely ready.

Looking in the mirror hurt. His hair was starting to grow back, just barely long enough to run his fingers through, never mind getting anywhere long enough to cover his eyes like it used to. The bags under his eyes were darker than he could remember them ever being and his hands shook as he brushed his teeth. Biting down on the bristles, he grabbed a towel and threw it over the mirror, feeling a slight tinge of relief when he was no longer forced to look at himself. The social worker watched from the doorway, silently.

He was tempted to go to sleep when he was done, completely exhausted from the little bit of work. But she brought him breakfast and his stomach growled in agreement, so he ate enough of the oatmeal to satiate his hunger, and not a bite more. A nervous nausea was already swirling in his gut and he didn’t need to add to it.

“Would you like to be left alone?” She asked, taking the empty bowl.

Virgil nodded, already feeling the heaviness and emptiness that came with dissociation starting to creep through his limbs.

“I’ll come let you know when they’re here, okay?” He had no recollection of her leaving the room, but the next time he drifted back to the present, she was gone.

He took a nap around noon, too tired and overwhelmed to stay awake for any longer. Plus, with new rushes of anxiety flooding his system every couple seconds, he was ready to not be conscious for a hot minute. He tried to convince himself that it would be okay, he’d struggle through an awkward meeting where the foster parents would eventually give up on him and leave, and he could spend his remaining year and a month in the system. Hopefully in that year he could figure enough out to survive when he was alone.

A joyous child screeching downstairs woke him up three hours later, jerking him awake with a pounding heart.

It wasn’t an hour later when there was a soft knock at his door and he threw himself into the corner, pulling his blanket up to his chest. No, no, no, he wasn’t ready- The door opened painfully slowly, spilling the light from the hallway into his pitch black room.

“Virgil? I’m here with one of the foster parents, can I come in?”

She poked her head into the room and squinted to meet his eyes in the darkness, eventually finding his hunched form on his bed. Wordlessly, she opened the door all the way and walked up to him, flicking on the bedside lamp. A pleasantly soft light filled the room, illuminating the man standing at the door. Virgil began to shake.

He wasn’t overly tall, probably just a head or so taller than Virgil, dressed in a plain yellow button up and black jeans. At first, he didn’t seem too intimidating, but neither had the other family at first glance. When he walked into the room, just so he was less of a silhouette, Virgil eyes were drawn to the large burn scar covering the left side of his face, just a shade darker than the right, but the skin mottled and textured.

“Virgil, this is Janus Oakmen. His husband was unable to join him today, but-”

Husband? Virgil’s breath hitched. His husband, his husband, he’s gay, gay gay gay- His anxiety skyrocketed, and he couldn’t help the electric-like impulses that ran up his spine and out his fingers. He clenched his fist to hide the remaining twitches.

She seemed to stumble over her words, trying to hide her shock. To her luck, the man interrupted, smiling softly down at Virgil.

“I’d like to speak to Virgil alone, if he’s alright with that.”

“I’ll be waiting just outside the door,” She said hurriedly, rushing out and closing the door behind her. And they were alone.

Janus looked at him for barely a second before taking a seat on the bottom bunk on the other side of the small room, folding his hands on his lap.

“Technically, I asked if you were okay with it, but…” He gestured weakly to the door. “Oh, well. I was told you don’t talk, Virgil.”

He stared in response, wrapping his fists up in the blanket. The man gave a breathy chuckle, but there was no animosity behind it.

“That’s okay. Just wanted to double check. Is it okay with you if I just talk, then?”

No adult had ever asked Virgil for permission for anything twice in under a minute. His social workers kind of just did what they had to, and he’d never been in a home where that kind of thing was the norm. It was more ‘the kids ask for everything, and the parents get what they want, no questions asked’. Needless to say, he was taken aback.

He nodded weakly, realizing the man was waiting for a response.

“Fabulous. Ignoring all the boring details you wouldn’t care about, my name is Janus. Like, from mythology, not a PTA mom. I’m thirty-five, and my husband Logan and I have been fostering since we were twenty-two, so we know what we’re doing. We love it.”

Virgil slowly let his legs unfurl, stretching them out in front of him under the blanket.

“We actually weren’t intending to foster this year, since Logan is looking for a new job. His current one just made it necessary for him to travel more than he would like to, so we wanted to press pause until he was happy at a new one. And then we got a call from good ole Bev out there.” He waved at the door again, cracking a smile. “She told us a little bit of your story, and Logan and I instantly said yes. If you’ll have us, that is.”

The vague idea of “why?” crossed Virgil’s mind, and it must have translated to his face, because Janus continued.

“When I was fifteen, I came out to my parents as gay. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but they weren’t such big fans, and they put me in conversion therapy.”

His heart stopped. Another round of shocks through his arms.

“We can talk about that more another day, if you want. I know that’s a tough topic for you. Needless to say, it didn’t work. Because it doesn’t work,” He shrugged, an annoyed tone finding its way into his words, “I understand what you’re going through, to an extent. If anyone can help you, it’s us. I’ve been there. And I promise, we’re fiercely protective. We’d never let anything bad happen to you.”

He stopped, leaning forward on his hands. Virgil realized he probably couldn’t see him that well except for his outline, due to him being pressed into the darkest corner of the room. Despite every cell in his body screaming that it was a trick, he scooted forward into the light of the lamp, still shaking.

“There you are. Hello, Virgil.”

Virgil raised a trembling hand in a half hearted greeting.

“I know this is a big, terrifying thing to ask of you. And I’ll understand if you say no. But if you feel safe, we’d love to have you for however long you’re comfortable with. Would you like to think it over?”

He nodded immediately. It wasn’t the hard ‘no’ he had expected himself to feel, and that was more unsettling than it should have been.

“Okay. You do that. Take however long you need,” Janus said as he stood up, straightening his shirt, “It’s been great to meet you, Virgil.”

And he was gone. The social worker came back a short while later, but Virgil was completely gone by the time she did. He didn’t respond to her dinner calls, didn’t eat when the meal was placed in front of him, safely retreated into the silent part of his mind where he was safe from panic attacks and hard choices.

---

He said yes. Of course he did. He was far too intrigued by the man he’d met to refuse. He was scared shitless, that was a given; the first week after meeting Janus, he’d refused to leave his bed, refused to eat or shower or leave his huddle against the wall until the caretaker was basically pleading with him. Even then, it was a struggle to not throw up from sheer terror.

But his social worker must have seen the way he was giving in, yearning for a grasp of hope in equal parts as his fear, because she set about to convince him. Promised more thorough checks once a week, daily phone calls to keep in touch, and an immediate pick up the moment he was unsure. Bit by bit his resolve was broken, until he finally agreed to give it a try, rushing from her presence moments later to hurl his dinner into the toilet. Hopefully his nerves would relax over time.

The day came when he was to leave the group home, and he spent none of it in the present. He was so dissociated, so deeply embedded within his own mind, that he wasn’t even able to pack his belongings. His social worker was kind enough to do it for him (though the task itself took less than half an hour- he didn’t own that much) and he didn’t even notice she was in the room, talking, until his black garbage bag was placed on the bed in front of him.

“ -unresponsive like this all day. We’re not sure what to do.”

“No doubt a response to his overwhelming fear of being placed in a new home after the disaster of his previous one. May I speak to him alone?”

“Of course.”

“Want me to leave too, Lo?”

“No, Janus, you can stay. It may be nice to have your expertise in the subject lest it become pertinent.”

There was some shuffling at the very corners of his consciousness, the light from the hallways lighting up the divots of his rumpled clothing bag, and one of the people were gone. His bedside lamp was flicked on.

“Thank you, Janus.”

A weight on the bed was the first thing to really snap Virgil back to the presence, for the first time noticing the two men before him. The one standing, he recognized as Janus. The other sitting in front of him, though, he didn’t know. Virgil blinked rapidly, slowly pushing himself further back into his bed frame, despite how it dug into his shoulders.

“Hello, Virgil. My name is Logan. I take it you’ve met my husband?”

Janus shot him a soft smirk, copying Virgil’s little wave from when they’d first interracted. He barely restrained a rush of twitches, playing it off as a shuffle to rearrange his blanket.

“Do you think you could move forward just enough to place your feet on the ground? You don’t have to stand, just to begin the process of grounding?”

Virgil didn’t trust this guy for anything. He didn’t know his intentions, knew nothing about him, and his repressed mental state wasn’t making his cognitive reasoning any better. If Logan could help him ground, maybe it would be easier to figure out if they were trustworthy. Odd, that for this to work, he had to trust them enough to ground around them.

He scooted forward, letting his feet flutter off the bed and rest on the floor.

“Well done, Virgil. Press them to the floor firmly. Janus, do you have- ah, wonderful.”

Virgil looked up, nearly throwing himself back as Janus reached out a hand to him. There was something clutched in his fingers, but all the youngest could suddenly think was electrode electrode it’s going to hurt they’re going to hurt you don’t let it touch you don’tletittouchyou DON’T!

“It’s just gum, Virge, it’s okay.”

Oh. His hand paused as he reached out for the offering, a new thought coming to mind. Should he trust food from strangers? What if they’d drugged it, like his old foster home? He bit his lip, slowly retreating back into himself.

The man seemed to see his hesitation, popping the piece into his mouth and offering one right from the package.

“I didn’t mess with it, I swear.”

He took the gum, recoiling at the harsh taste almost instantly.

“Yeah, it doesn’t taste great. But I chewed like a pack of this a day when dissociation was a bitch. Snaps you back to the present like-”

“Language, Janus.”

“I’m sure he’s heard worse.”

“That doesn’t mean we should encourage it.”

Virgil couldn’t help the tiny smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. He hadn’t seen just casual bickering in a long time.

“We brought one more bribe-”

“It is not a bribe-”

He outright snorted at Logan’s aghast tone, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the noise. Janus looked utterly pleased with himself, slowly handing over a bundle he’d had wrapped under his arm.

“Again, to help with grounding. And it’s a bit of a drive to our place, so maybe you can get some sleep in the car.”

It was a deep purple blanket, almost impossibly soft to the touch. Virgil couldn’t help run his fingers over the plush material, fighting the urge to just smash his face into it. Keeping an eye on the two, Virgil unfolded it and wrapped it tightly around himself, settling to just let his cheek rub against where it was draped over his shoulder.

It took another twenty minutes for him to feel able to walk without stumbling, but if he left the group home in a fuzzy blanket and starting to feel safer than he had in months, that was his to admit. And he wouldn’t… not yet.

-----------

Virgil stared down at the piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand, re-reading his shitty handwriting for the millionth time. He knew it was proper grammar, and nothing was spelled wrong, and it was clear and concise, but a part of him was still nervous about the idea of giving it to Janus. He was still hesitant to speak, and his new foster family was more than accommodating, giving him a small white board to write on, and even teaching him the most basic sign language for simple questions (courtesy of Logan). One day, he hoped he’d get his confidence back enough to speak, but right now, he felt no rush.

Being surrounded with these new people, even for the three short weeks he’d been there, had already been enough to minimize his dissociating spells. Logan didn’t have to leave for another work trip for another week, and Janus worked from home anyways, so he was getting way more love and affection than he was ever used to. He hadn’t quite given in to Janus’ offered hugs, or any casual touch at all really, but he was getting used to one of the two just sitting with him for hours, covering him with weighted and fuzzy blankets, and gently distracting him with puzzles or that god-awful gum or just repeating where he was, and that he was safe. Was this what being loved was supposed to feel like?

So he trudged down the steps, hearing the shower running as he walked past the master bedroom, and slowly approached Janus at the dining room table. The man turned to greet him, giving him that soft smirk.

“Morning, kid. Happy birthday.”

Virgil smiled shyly, remembering the sign for thank you after a moment, and dropped the note onto the table next to Janus’ mug. He took a seat across from him, hiding his shaking hands in his lap, and watched with bated breath as he took the slip of paper and read it.

“‘How long did it take you to feel okay with Logan after CT?’ As in, feel okay dating a man?”

Virgil nodded and then, just for practice, signed yes.

“The short answer? Probably two years, and I was still hesitant going into the relationship. It took us a longer time to get to the comfort level we’re at now. You need to go at your pace, Virgil. You shouldn’t force anything.”

And then, as he tended to do when no one was there to fill the silence, he began to rant. This was also something Virgil was surprised he had come to enjoy, pulling up his feet so he could sit cross legged on the chair and setting his chin overtop his folded arms on the table.

“I think it’s ridiculous that our basic human rights are still up for debate,” Janus sighed, taking a long sip of his tea, “Soulmarks are more than enough proof that we have no control over who we love- not that we should need that kind of proof to be validated. But people are afraid of what they don’t know, so they portray us as monsters who need to be fixed.” He’d begun rubbing absentmindedly at his wrist and Virgil’s eyes tracked the movement, noticing for the first time the small compass that was just a couple shades darker than the man’s skin. It almost blended in, and he probably never would have noticed it, if the small needle in the center weren’t slowly rotating towards the stairs.

Logan entered the dining room from that direction, greeting his husband with a small kiss on the head and his foster child with a relaxed smile. He must have noticed Virgil’s occasional glance at the other’s wrist, wordlessly flipping over his own arm. His matching compass was pulling towards Janus’, an ever present symbol that they were meant to be together. Then, he patted his husband’s shoulder, going to get the coffee his husband always made for him.

“You’re not broken, Virgil,” Janus murmured. Virgil’s head shot up, surprised at his bluntness, “You’re not. And if anyone tells you differently, they’ll have to deal with me,” He said firmly as he took a long sip.

“No threatening, Janus!”

Virgil snorted into his fist, grinning as Janus winked at him and said, “Sorry, Logan,” into his mug.

“Incorrigible.” Logan sighed as he exited the kitchen with his coffee, dropping into the seat between the two. “And happy birthday, Virgil. Would you like to choose what we have for breakfast, or would you like us to decide?”

That was something they’d learned about him quickly; he had awful choice paralysis. Choosing between two choices was already anxiety inducing, but a variety of things, like having to narrow it down to one food item? Lethal. Virgil quickly pointed to Logan, who chuckled.

“French toast, then?”

Virgil nodded.

“I’ll get started on that in a moment. Janus, do you have his gift?”

“It’s in the living room, let me go get it.”

And that got his heart racing. ‘Gifts’ weren’t good things. They were leverage, blackmail, with a promise of a ‘returned favor’ in the near future. Virgil didn’t like things held against him like that. What if they gave him a present, and then demanded he pay them back for it the moment things weren’t peachy? Who was he kidding, he was in the honeymoon phase of this new foster family. It would take a month, like it did with the others, and then they’d find something about him that they hated and they’d force him to change it and he wouldn’t be able to refuse because they gave him food and shelter and above all, a gift on his birthday, and he would owe them a debt and he was stuck and-

“Virgil? What are five orange things you can see?”

His head popped up- when had he grabbed his hair like that?- and he noticed how heavily he was breathing. His foster parents were looking at him in concern, not pity, but legitimate concern for his well being (wack), Janus holding his hands behind his back. It was Logan that had spoken.

“Five orange things you can see, Virgil. You can just point.”

Don’t disappoint them more, his mind screamed, so he pointed at the far wall, near the entryway.

“The bridge on the calendar picture, very good. What else?”

Point through the pass through window into the kitchen.

“The sponge, well done. Three more.”

In front of Janus’ empty seat.

“The letters on the mug-”

Quick point to the book shelf in the living room.

“-and the book on my shelf. Last one?”

It took Virgil a longer moment before he found a cup of pens on the small coffee table behind the sofa, gesturing to the orange capped pen amongst the others.

“Wonderful. Are you feeling a bit better now?”

He didn’t respond, choosing to track Janus’ movements as he sat back into his chair, adjusting his hands so they were on his lap, most likely holding the gift he was hiding. Logan leaned against the couch as his husband spoke.

“Kid, I need you to understand something, alright? You don’t owe us anything. We want to give you a gift because it’s your birthday, and we want to celebrate you. This isn’t some favor that you have to return.”

How Janus understood Virgil’s distress, the younger could only guess. But his words of reassurance were enough to get Virgil to accept the wrapped package as he presented it with minimal shaking, for once demanding his brain relax. Neither of the men mentioned how delicately he unwrapped it, carefully tugging at the tape as to not rip the paper. Why risk it?

His mouth gaped when he saw the present for the first time, holding the box in a white knuckled grip.

“We were told yours was taken from you and never returned, and figured that you needed a new one,” Logan said.

It was the first new thing Virgil had ever gotten. His clothes were from thrift stores or hand downs, his school supplies consisted of a found pencil and a ripped binder from the group home’s storage, forget ever having his own computer or video games or…

“This is a phone!”

“That it is.” Janus was smiling, taking a sip of his now lukewarm tea.

“I can’t- You can’t just- I don’t-”

“We can, and we did. You’re seventeen, you kind of need a phone just for everyday life. And unless you give us a reason not to trust you with it, we have no worries.”

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t-

Janus slid the tissue box across the table, but Virgil elected to ignore it, refusing to take his eyes off the box in his hands.

“Thank you,” he barely choked out, “Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome, Virgil,” Logan responded for the both of them, returning back to the kitchen nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just given Virgil more than he’d ever gotten in his entire life combined. “I’m going to start on breakfast.”

“I can help you set it up. Then you can download some music… maybe contact the soulmate of yours again.” Janus switched chairs so he was next to Virgil, careful not to touch him, and Virgil couldn’t help grinning blindingly up at him.

It would only be after breakfast that Virgil would realize that he’d spoken. It would be a longer journey until he’d be able to talk again effortlessly, but he was a step closer.

Part 4 HERE!

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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

Text

Fell in Love in Scotland Pt. 2

Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Warnings: ptsd/trauma related to war; mentions of nightmares; angst; cursing; pining; slow burn; 18+ in later parts (maybe? not sure yet)

Summary: After finding about the new Captain America, the reader goes to Louisiana to visit Sam.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: So I know this isn’t on my list of things I *should* be working on, but I had this idea today and I had to get it down! This is only going to be 2-3 parts. (Edit: 3 parts!) This is my first time writing for Sam!

I’m taking a small break from working on my other works in progress to focus on getting out as much Sam content as a can before Sam’s (and my) bday on the 14th! Not sure how much I’ll be able to write but that is my hope!

My biggest flex at the moment is sharing a bday with Sam.

This references Civil War, Endgame and Infinity War events in flashbacks but you know, canon is a thing I like to just maneuver around so I’m sorry if there are many major inaccuracies!

This is unedited and please let me know if I missed anything that should be included as a warning.

Taglist is in my bio

The safe house in Scotland was small. A little cottage hidden away in the countryside. Absolutely beautiful, if not for the looming reminders of why you were there in the first place.

You didn’t handle laying low well. You didn’t like not doing anything. Your resolve for handling your thoughts, your problems had always been to just push them aside. Focus your energy on anything but what would pull you down. You couldn’t allow yourself to just exist. Time stopped and there was no fight to be fought, and you hated it.

Fortunately, you were with people who understood. Sam and Steve especially. It didn’t take long for Sam to work his way in. He understood you, and he related to you. Neither one of you really needed to acknowledge it. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you which made it all feel so seamless.

You were restless, and nights were always the worst. You’d spend several hours tossing in turning on your mattress, unable to get comfortable. You’d bring your pillow and sheet with you onto the floor of your room, and if you were lucky enough to fall asleep, you’d wake up after only a few hours. Sometimes you’d remember the nightmares vividly, other times it was just the feelings that lingered.

Most nights, you’d wait it out in your room watching the clock until it was early enough to “get out of bed.” So, you’d wait until the red numbers on the screen turned to 4am and then you’d sneak your way downstairs to the kitchen or the living room, so you didn’t need to face the idea of sleep.

After a few weeks, Sam caught on to your routine. He would join you in the mornings, help you make coffee and talk about nothing. Just helping you keep your mind off the things that bothered you. He looked as tired as you, and you would insist on him getting more sleep. But Sam never made you go through any of the hard days on your own.

“You get used to it,” he’d say, understanding what you were going through better than anybody.

“I don’t know if I can,” you admit, curled up in a ball on the sofa, the warm mug of coffee Sam made cradled tightly in your hands. The curtains are pulled open, and you stare out the window to your right, watching the sun slowly coming up.

“You should try sleeping in your bed again,” he suggests. You’d recently promoted yourself from sleeping on the floor to the couch. Baby steps. You nod, knowing he’s right.

You get a rental car the next morning and you drive to the address Sam texted you. You’re greeted immediately by two rowdy young boys, asking you if you’re an Avenger like their Uncle Sam. He’s literally Uncle Sam. How could he think he didn’t deserve the shield? Well, you know why. But the coincidence is too funny not to bring up to him once all of this is resolved.

Each of them grabbed you by an arm and drag you to the backyard. You chuckle, following their lead as they ask you a million questions. They call out to Sam when he is in view and he smiles when he sees you. Your heart flips.

“They bothering you?” he asks and you shake your head.

“No, they’re great,” you beam watching them run off.

“You look good,” he compliments you, and you feel like jelly. “You’re sleeping?” Oh.

“Yeah, I mean, for the most part,” you reply, “So do you.” You can’t miss the smile on his face. “So, uh, have you heard from Bucky?”

“I text him all the time, trying to check in, but no nothing. You?”

You shake your head. “I stopped trying,” you admit, “but I can’t blame him. He really doesn’t know me.”

“He’ll come around,” he reasons, trying to be optimistic. “So, I want to show you the boat?”

“You have a boat?” you chuckle, and he grins, nodding like a little kid.

“35-foot yacht,” he teases.

“Of course,” you smile.

It was only just noon when you both arrived at the docks. The air felt crisper, and the sun felt phenomenal on your shoulders. It wasn’t until you were outside in weather like this that you realized how often you opted to stay hidden away in your apartment. The atmosphere just felt more alive, and the air in your lungs felt almost cleansing.

You sat across from Sam on the bow of the boat, your legs dangling over the side. You were sitting close enough to him that your thighs touched, and you were trying your hardest to ignore the feeling. You just felt warm, and you felt more relaxed than you had been since you’d last seen him.

“I just need to ask,” Sam asks, cutting through both of your laughter. You really had spent the day so far just reminiscing, talking about nothing really. “Did you and Cap- were you guys…?”

“Oh god no,” you choke quickly, you stifle another laugh, “Steve was just a really great friend. No nothing like that. I would go to the end of the earth and back for Steve… but no, I didn’t have feelings for him that way.”

“I had thought maybe at one point something was going on there,” he shrugs. Is he serious?

“Never,” you reiterate.

Sleeping in a bed became easier, but the nightmares were something that you just couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. Many times, it would be late in the night and you’d be gently shaken awake. Sam would be kneeling next to your bed, trying to wake you up.

“Please stay,” you’d ask, eyes glossed over and your skin stained with tears. He could never say no. You’d scoot over and he’d climb in and settle next to you. It wasn’t even anything romantic. You didn’t cuddle or invade his space. You just needed to feel him next to you, and you’d be able to sleep. The cycle continued for a long while until you were able to sleep through the night without the haunting dreams.

But you missed waking up with him there.

“You need to tell him,” Steve would insist, and you’d shut down the idea every single time.

“No, I can’t,” you’d insist. The only person who knew how you felt was Steve. You hadn’t even told him; he just knew you too well.

“You’re making yourself miserable,” he’d elaborate, “you deserve a little happiness- Sam deserves happiness. He wants you too.”

“Happiness? With me?” you snort, “Steve, think about me, my past- everything I carry around with me. You know as well as I do, I can’t infect him with that when he has his own issues. We’re all too broken- he deserves better.”

“You don’t to be the one to decide that for him,” he counters. “What Sam deserves is the truth.”

“I know, I know!” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself and you can’t look at Steve. “Telling him how I feel complicates things to much. I can’t risk it.”

“Even if he feels the same way?”

“Especially if he feels the same way.”

You rest back on your palms, close your eyes and tilt your head up towards the direction of the sun. Your mind wanders to Steve, and how much you miss him. You were oftentimes too thick headed to take any of his advice but it was something you hadn’t realized you needed.

You decide to just throw out all your apprehension. And just take the advice from Steve you should’ve taken years ago. The timing is perfect. The universe is screaming at you to just tell him.

“I gave up the shield because I didn’t think anyone could follow Steve,” he admits, “I didn’t think I could fill the role- no one can, or maybe no one should.”

“You’re the only person who can, Sam,” you say, looking back over to him.

“When I gave it up, I didn’t think it would be given to someone else. I donated it- to keep it with the rest of what we have left of him. God- if I had known…”

“I watched on television when you donated it, Sam,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Symbols are nothing without the men and women that give them meaning… I wish you saw yourself the way Steve did- the way I do…”

“That’s not fair…”

“You said we need new heroes for the times we’re in. Sam- the world needs a new Captain America. And you know as well as I do, that man on TV they pushed out there isn’t it.”

“It’s not me, either,” he says, looking down at the water, the reflection of the two of you rippled and distorted.

“I wish you could see how much that isn’t true,” you admit, “I also- I also wish I was more like you… You’re so good at talking to me… people like us and Steve. You show people their value and their worth, and you’re just so fiercely loyal it’s almost annoying. And I suck at that, I’m a terrible communicator, and I can’t vocalize how much you’re worth, and how much you deserve the shield. Feelings are just too overwhelming and I can’t focus them into anything coherent. And you right now need what you give others just so freely, and you’re stuck with me… I know I’m not Steve, and I as much as I try to convince you the decision is yours, but you need to know that you are the only person who can be our new Captain… Steve wasn’t wrong about you, and I just… I’m in your corner.”

“(Y/N) …”

It was safe in Scotland. Quiet, secluded. Time wasn’t looming over you. There was nothing there that was any imminent threat except your own demons that you carried with you. You had a lot of regrets, past mistakes that haunted you whenever you slowed down. It’s why when you left the air force, you joined SHIELD. You were like Steve, kindred spirits plagued by the after effects of war and both of you resolved to fighting rather than be left to your own devises.

Not like Sam. Sam put his focus into helping others. Selfless, and understanding, he was always there. He was thoughtful with what he chose to fight for, which is something you greatly admired. He was morals and loyalty, and everything that made a great man. He was a friend first, and a fighter second.

Which is such a rare quality that you wished you could tell him you noticed.

Steve got very into crossword puzzles. He found a box up in the attic tucked away of old books from whoever used to live here. He’d sit on the armchair in the living room, pencil in hand and try his best to fill in what he knew. He ended up heavily relying on you and Sam to fill in the references he didn’t know.

You and Sam would be on the couch, you tucked into his side, watching television or sometimes you’d both read, old magazines or anything you could find for entertainment. One night you both sat on the floor on opposite sides of the coffee table with an incomplete deck of cards playing Double Solitaire, and Steve would occasionally vocalize a clue he was stuck on.

“Drummer of Duran Duran. Blank Taylor. Five letters,” Steve said, not looking up from the flimsy book.

“Roger Taylor,” Sam answered aimlessly, tapping the card in his hand to his chin as his eyes scanned the columns of cards.

A few minutes of silence follow before Steve speaks again.

“1996 Looney Toons film starring Michael Jordan. Eight letters.”

“Space Jam,” you smirk, and you bite your lip to hold back a laugh. You want to ask him what the theme is for the puzzle he’s working on but you decide against it. You don’t want to embarrass him.

It felt really silly. The three of you, all ex-military crime fighters on the run, couped up together in this tiny living room, playing cards and helping Captain America with a pop culture crossword. Maybe it just felt weird because it was so normal.

You’re sweating. You didn’t realize it until just now. The dampness of the underarms of your t-shirt was all you could focus on. Why were you so nervous? Because again, the universe if giving you every single sign to just tell him. Yell it out so loud it echoes back to you across the water. Tell him. Tell him everything.

Every harbored fantasy of being with him. Tell him how much he means to you and how sorry you are that your fears drive you away from him. He feels so strong, and stoic next to you, it’s making your head spin and you feel like your brain is leaving your body behind. He’s so understanding and patient, and here you are, again, leaving him on another cliff hanger.

“Sam, I need to tell you something.”

No going back now.

Taglist:

@greeneyedblondie44 @witchybarb @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @sassy-kassaay @aynanasstuff @claudiaatje @lieswithoutfairytales @ttalisa @januarystears

#sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #the falcon and the winter soldier #sam wilson fanfiction #justsamwilson #falcon #slow burn #friends to lovers #anthony mackie characters #mcu imagine

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goryroyalty · 3 years

Text

One of *Those* Days

High school au, (though it's never specifically said in the story.) Angst/some fluff.

Depressed Roman, self-deprecating(?) thoughts (Idk, just depressing and insulting thoughts), food mention, only one swear, I think? Did I miss anything?

Roman is having a rough morning and Remus comes to comfort them. (Also, both of them fall somewhere under the non-binary umbrella, though their exact labels are never stated.)

(I'm venting a bit tbh. I don't do this as much anymore, but I used to do it almost everyday. It sucked.)

Copper eyes fluttered open to find their room lit up with early morning light filtering through the gap between the room darkening curtains. Funny, last they remembered it was five in the morning and now- their phone screen lit up- it was almost eight o'clock. The house was silent as their parents had already left for work. They weren't aware their child had only just woke up eight minutes before school started. They had no intention of going either.

Roman sighed, a heavy feeling in their chest, and rolled onto their side. They shoved their phone under their pillow and stared at the wall blankly. Simply rolling over had taken every ounce of motivation they had. Now, all they could do was lie in bed and let their mind wander. The heavy feeling had spread throughout their entire body. It almost hurt. Their thoughts weren't focused on anything particular for a long time, just wandering aimlessly. Their phone vibrated from under the pillow, but they made no effort to grab it. At least not for a while. A few more vibrations later, their arm moved slowly when curiosity gave them some motivation to grab their phone and unlock it.

ChaosBabe (idk, I'm not good at coming up with nicknames)

u not at school 2day?

8:01

btw it/its 2day

8:01

ur missin out on Nerd gettin heated bout the way i txt again

8:03

u ok? pls respond

8:10

Roman thought of words to reply back, but their fingers didn't move to text them. Typing 'Yeah, just want to stay home.' felt like too much work, even just typing a simple yes or no was too much. Roman sighed and exited their messages, clicking on Tumblr. It didn't take long to scroll down to where they had started last night. They went to the top, refreshed a couple times, and exited the app. They stared at their wallpaper, which was Disney themed, of course, until their phone locked. They opened it again and went to Instagram. They scrolled through every social media they had with a blank stare.

15% of battery remaining

Roman dismissed the alert, getting another notification immediately after.

ChaosBabe

Ro, pls let me know if you need anything. I mean it: anything.

12:27

The teen in bed hummed, wondering how it'd passed noon already. Still, they didn't move from where they lie. Well, they did finally roll over onto their other side. They found them-self back on Tumblr again, scrolling through the posts they'd already seen. Their phone screen flashed with the screen that said the phone's type before turning completely black. Roman let out a long sigh and let go of their phone, not caring much when it slid off onto the floor.

'Well, this is pathetic, isn't it?' Roman thought, 'I can't even drag myself out of bed. This is so stupid. Just get up and get going. Why am I so lazy all the time?'

Roman's train of thought continued on that downhill track. Soon, the track ended and it was just free-fall. Tears came to Roman's copper-colored eyes but didn't fall. They felt tired, but sleep did not come. Was it really a sleepy tired, or was it simply just...tired? Roman thought it might be both. Their stomach growled, pulling their thoughts to some coherency again. They focused on food for a few moments before their mind wandered off into a daydream.

The front door opening jump-started Roman's brain. 'Did Dad come home early or is it really already five? I didn't do any chores today. Shit.'

Roman rolled over and buried their face in their pillows, not wanting to hear about how they hadn't done dishes or vacuumed or whatever hadn't visibly been done. 'Maybe, just maybe, he'll think I'm asleep and leave me alone. Or even realize something is wrong and try to comfort me? But what is wrong and how would I want to be comforted by him?'

Roman's bedroom door opened and footsteps neared their bed. They were a bit confused when the person slid in bed beside them until they heard the slight groan as they stretched, "Mm, your bed is so soft. Feels amazing."

Roman relaxed at the realization it was only Remus. They immediately thought how they wanted to turn and cuddle it. They did at least shift onto their back, staring up at the ceiling. Remus draped an arm across them, "So...one of those days? Any way that I can help?"

'Hold me. Drag me out of bed. Slap me. Shake me like a rag doll until I stop this pity party of mine.' Roman replied in their head, but their mouth felt like it couldn't move. They wanted so desperately to say something. Anything at this point. Remus sat up and shifted to look down at them, smiling softly and running a hand through their auburn hair. Roman cringed inside at the realization it was most likely greasy. They hadn't showered for a few days. Same with brushing their teeth. Their breath was going to be awful too. Roman closed their eyes as tears came to them when they thought: 'I'm disgusting.'

"Love, if I ask yes or no questions, will you answer them? You don't have to speak. You can find another way to say yes or no." Remus stroked their jaw, studying them for some movement that could be a reply. Roman's tears disappeared and they focused their thoughts on Remus' words, trying to find some will to move. They shifted their arm to rest their hand on their stomach, tapping their index against it once. "Okay, first let me make sure: what is yes?"

Roman tapped once. Remus nodded and hummed, "And no?"

Roman tapped twice. They felt a little silly if they were honest. Remus kissed their forehead, "Good, good. Okay, have you eaten today?"

Two taps.

"Do you want food?"

Roman hesitated, knowing they needed it but did they really want it? They tapped three times.

"I'll take that as a 'maybe' or 'don't know'. Next question, is there something you want me to do for you?"

Another three taps.

"Cuddle you? Carry you out of bed? Bring in food to you?" Remus rambled off the first ideas that came to its mind.

One tap. Pause. One tap. Pause. Two taps.

Remus lied back down, pulling Roman close and kissing their head a couple times. Roman felt the tears come back again, a couple escaping this time before they went away. They hated how pathetic and lazy they felt. Remus sat up with Roman still in its arms, lifting them up as it got to its feet. Roman wrapped their arms around it and buried their face in its shoulder. "Want food, Ro?"

Roman nodded, relieved at the slight progress already. Remus carried them out to the kitchen and set them on a bar stool, "Know what you want?"

Roman shrugged, looking down at the counter with a feeling of guilt and shame building up inside. Remus rubbed their back, "I'll look at what you have and list stuff off then, yeah? Or do you want to look with me or by yourself?"

Roman bit their lip as it trembled a bit. They rested their arms on the counter and buried their face into them. For the first time all day they spoke, though it was only a whisper: "Sorry."

"It's okay, Love, you don't have to apologize. I promise, I really don't mind." Remus hugged them, kissing their shoulder. "I told you I'd do anything for you. I love you, Roman."

"Love you." Roman whispered back, having to clear their throat due to not using their voice for so long. They sat up a little, "I'll look."

After a while of looking through the fridge and pantry a few times, Roman was finally settled on the bar stool with leftovers in front of them. Remus sat beside them, rubbing their back as they slowly ate. Halfway through, Roman spoke again, "I don't like that feeling. I feel so heavy yet empty at the same time. I can't move or speak or do anything. I hate it. I couldn't even reply to you, even though I really wanted to. Everything just feels...too much. It all feels like too much."

"Do you think you could even just text one letter? I was thinking we could come up with a code for when you felt like this. Like one letter means you want me to leave you alone, another for if you just want me to text or call, and another if you want me to come over. I'm honestly not entirely sure how to help or make it go away, but I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll always be here for you. No matter what, 'kay? Just say the word and I'll do it."

"Thank you, Remus." Roman hugged it, sniffling a bit. "You're more than I deserve."

"I disagree. I think we're practically perfect for each other." Remus hugged them back tightly.

"Practically perfect in every way." Roman mumbled with a slight chuckle.

"Exactly, Mary Poppins." Remus smiled, "Exactly."

Weird ending, sorry.

#remrom #romrem #romantic remrom

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purkinje-effect · 3 years

Text

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 74: Enclosure

Table of Contents. Third Instar, Chapter 5. Go to previous. Go to next. TWs: Alcohol, transphobia, prejudiced behaviors, ghoul fetishization, brief unsanitary stuff, dysphoria. (A/N: This is a difficult chapter.)

Doors, keys, barriers, and binding.

_____________________

As his food settled, ‘Choly found his gaze more upon Sticks than anything else. He’d watched as the ghoul ate his stew (and polished off his own as well), watched him as they shared the slice of pie, watched as the two each finished off their chilled cans of Vim. The tonic soda’s alcohol content crept up on him, insidious and heady. Observing Sticks’s indelicate spoon technique juxtaposed against his precise methodology of ripping the bread bowl piece as he went, the angles at which he held his broken lips to prevent dribbling, the diligence and enthusiasm with which he dispatched the meal... He didn’t notice his intoxication until Sticks squarely caught him not just watching, but staring. He frowned softly, stymied and a little too wide-eyed.

He wondered if Sticks had meant to get him drunk, and if so, why. He disliked his reflex to question such a thing.

Angel vocalized as though to clear an imagined throat.

“Ah, yes, gentlemen. Allow me to clear the table for you.” As it did so, it remarked to ‘Choly, “I certainly hope dinner treats you well, Sir.”

“Yeah, it’s gotta be.” Sticks grabbed the cans to collect the ring-pulls from them, before relinquishing them to Angel. He shifted in his seat to lace his hands over his belly. “Surely, I picked out a decent meal.”

‘Choly sat up straighter and reached for his cane hooked on the back of his chair, in preparation of standing, knowing it would take more focus than usual.

“I’ll know sooner or later. I can’t recall a single food since the Vault that hasn’t given me awful indigestion.” His features tightened and he leaned nearer across the table. “The stew didn’t have milk in it, right? Or the bread?”

Sticks didn’t know whether to take the worrying personally.

“Most things don’t. Brahmin don’t produce much milk. It’s usually made into a cheese so it lasts longer. Why?”

Angel finished its bussing. Sticks stood.

“Food allergy. Thanks, Angel.” With a sigh he pushed back the chair. Leveraging off the floor with his cane, he steadied himself against the edge of the table until his balance carried confidence. “Though, I couldn’t say I’d have the same reaction as to cow’s milk. I doubt I’ve had brahmin milk, if it’s rare as you say.”

They passed through the security point again, back into the mall proper. ‘Choly understood this time that the food court took that measure because it had its own door to the outside as well. He supposed that, in addition to the main entrance to the Concourse, each anchor store would have such a weapons check.

It took several tries, and Sticks’s assistance, before he could manage to mount Angel successfully. He laughed it off. They strolled amiably, oblivious to anything but their after dinner leisure. ‘Choly soon stopped them, in front of Sutter Grove, to marvel from a distance at an entire department store space he believed housed nothing but books.

“Sutter Grove was an upscale department store. I understand why a place with a prejudice for robots would clear out their General Atomics in favor of their post office and all, but-- but... did they do similar for every single anchor store?”

“Hadn’t really thought about it.” Sticks shrugged, hands in pockets. “I guess. What’s the use in trying to remember what they used to be, though? It might house hundreds of merchants, but Ant Lane’s more... streets-in-the-sky than a mall anymore.”

“Helps me couple my understanding of things against their reality.”

“Like you keep doing with me, I’m guessing.”

They’d continued along, and it took a moment for ‘Choly to process the jab.

“What, what was that?”

“What’s history matter anymore? I’ve lived so much of it, seen so much of it--made so much of it. We’re in the now, Mindy. Let’s stay here a while, huh?”

He murmured in uncertain agreement, trailing off as he noted the aforementioned Gate City Clinic at one corner of the crossway one might take to get to See’s or The Hall.

“Do you need to see that Liam fellow before we check in?”

“Bah, it’s fine. As long as it stops bleeding, I heal up P.D.Q.--and whatever it is you did, it’s sure stopped, or my sleeve wouldn’t still be white.”

“Is it white?” he mumbled, slouching to ineffectually adjust his half-moon glasses. “This lighting...”

“Tell me about it.” Sticks checked the time on his Pip-Boy and grunted. “It’s five minutes to lock-up time. We need to hoof it, or we’ll have to deal with See’s.”

“Why do I worry you know this from experience,” Angel fretted, matching the ghoul’s haste.

As they passed the glass elevator shaft, converted to a two-story pillar light fixture, ‘Choly looked behind them to confirm his suspicions that See’s guards had spread throughout the mall to empty all visitors from the Concourse.

Five guards stood at the lower level entrance to the Anchor Inn. Its upper level entrance had already been shut off, so as to usher non-Laners into the inn’s first floor lobby. The trio speculated where the Concierge line began, but as the See’s guards pulled shut the Concourse entrance’s rolling metal doors, Sticks encouraged ‘Choly in confidence to make themselves last in line. With easily a hundred people waiting for their rooms, ‘Choly worried they’d fill up before they got to the desk, but did his best to trust his friend. He glanced to his Pip-Boy: curfew came at nine here. Once only ten or so people remained, he dismounted to totter on his cane.

By the time their turn arrived, only one Concierge clerk stood at the desk: the tall, stocky Latin woman with dark teal victory rolls from before. She wore a cravat-bow, with tuxedo-piped slacks and a matching jacket with rows of brass buttons down each side, braided shoulders, and a contrast collar and cuffs. A small pillbox hat was secured cocked on her crown. She’d long since taken notice of Angel’s presence in the lobby, and her confident curiosity indicated easily that she’d assured her coworkers to leave the trio to her.

“I always expected robots to look as dangerous as they’ve been made to sound.” Intrigue piqued her well-manicured brows as she paid the ledgers most of her mind. “Have you stayed with us before?”

“I have. He hasn’t. I’m Sticks, and this is Melancholy. The robot’s Angel.”

She paused as she wrote, processing it all with a faint smile which grew into a beaming grin. She extended a lace-gloved hand and firm handshake, first to Sticks, then to ‘Choly. Angel offered a tendril as well, which she snagged with enthusiasm.

“I’m Orqueida. Rates are nightly or weekly. By the night, it’s ten pulls per person. By the week, it’s fifty pulls per person. Check-out’s at noon the following day. Anything you leave in your room past the time you’ve gotta be out gets donated to our Gift Shop.”

“Let’s start off with that week-long price ticket.” Sticks leaned coolly and removed his ushanka, holding it at his breast to smile at her. “Could I persuade you to give us a slight discount? Say... forty pulls each?”

Her misgivings skewed her features just so.

“We’ve got monthly rates, too, but if you’re intent to stay more than a month, it’s cheaper to speak to Mayor Knott about leasing a space in the Concourse. Are you... gonna be around more than a week?”

“Probably,” ‘Choly mumbled aside. Knowing my luck.

Scrutinizing her ledgers, she placed a dark, enameled fingernail on her floor map with a pleasant nod.

“I can do... forty-five. Best I can do. Our monthly rate breaks down to that. Management’s got a strict no-nonsense policy when it comes to haggling. Let's give you Room 110.”

“You’re too kind.” The ghoul’s rumbling, cordial voice ingratiated, firm but humble. “So neighborly-like. Thank you.”

‘Choly crossed his arms firmly, nearly grabbing fistfuls of his cardigan as he chewed at his lip. It didn’t much reassure him, that she hadn’t said one-eleven. He craned his head a bit to discern the room’s location.

“Excuse me... but I’m to understand that the escalators or elevators are no longer in operation. I imagine the inn uses both stories of the DeMarco-Boyle’s. I really struggle with stairs. I hope it’s no bother for us to request we receive a first floor room?”

“One-ten is. Besides, rooms are only in short supply during blizzard conditions. Long as it’s vacant, it’s for grabs. Psh, talking like you knew what the place looked like before it was an inn. You just said you hadn’t stayed at the Lane before today, and the inn itself is well past centenarian.”

“I haven’t been in this DeMarco-Boyle’s-- I mean, not the Anchor Inn, no.”

Orqueida simply stared at length, her lazy eye overt.

“Is your friend always this weird? Or is he just disoriented from traveling too long with a prewar ghoul?”

“Ohh, this is him coherent.” Sticks shrugged it off with a chuckle, and gave ‘Choly a pitying shoulder pat which elicited pedantic sulking. “He’s got a point, though. He hardly gets around without help, from Angel or otherwise. A first floor room is probably a good idea.”

“Of course. Of course.” After annotating their booking in the ledger, Orqueida leaned her elbows on the high desk, to eye Angel with interest. “Now about that robot. Checks out with the Aldermen, right?”

They both nodded, though ‘Choly couldn’t confidently be sure any officials of any kind had given them explicit verbal clearance to bring Angel with them.

“The instant Yancy gives warning, you’ve gotta follow technological protocols. Lock it in our work closet. Turn it off. Chain it down. Non-negotiable.” She softened, and her fascination shined through once again. “Only other choice is to toss it outside at that point, and I couldn’t have the heart for that. It’ll be neat to have a bot around for a change. Looks a fierce one.”

“My ferocity, madam, is only rivaled by my cleaning prowess!”

She let out a barking jolt of a laugh, and tidied her workspace.

“Ha! Madam. A sense of humor, too.”

“To confirm we’re on the same page about storing Angel,” ‘Choly hemmed, unsure whether to even ask. “You say, ‘at Yancy’s word.’ Is Yancy one of your Aldermen?”

Orqueida gagged and teetered in place before laughing at him pityingly.

“Fuck, I hope not. Ask most people, they’d tell you Yancy’s our resident ant farmer, but he’s our meteorologist. Our weatherman.”

As Sticks handed her fistfuls of pulls from his sack, she strung them onto a set of graduated check spindles to count them in a way not dissimilar to Darryl with his abacus. Until then, ‘Choly had presumed the broker-creature had paid his friend in caps. She deposited their payment in an under-desk till. Then she fished the right room key off the wall pegs behind her, and shut the desk-gate behind her to join them.

“Could I walk you to your room, then?” When they appreciated the gesture, she continued their chat on the way. “You aren’t from the Hinter, or you’d know not to bring Angel along... and it’s rare anyone’s here by accident. I was a real little girl, the only other time I can ever remember the Lane letting in a robot. Nor’easters mess up technology. Something about the electricity in them or something. I’m not sure. It was a lot like Angel. Smaller. It didn’t have any arms. See’s removed its weapon. It had a recording about enlisting to the military base to the South. But, sometimes it’d pick up funky radio music. That’s the part we liked about it. Well, See’s locked it out in the Concourse during a storm. It rammed itself to pieces against the rolling doors of the apartments. Heaven knows what the hell its radio was picking up that week, either. Haunting. So yeeaaah. You’ve gotta turn Angel off if Yancy says a storm’s coming.” She eyed Angel amid the tension of her ghost story, heavy lidded and smiling. “Just the armless one was scary enough. Your voice is yours, not others’. Don’t give me nightmares.”

Angel stuttered at length, guilty and incredulous.

“If it is unsafe for me to remain here during certain conditions, then my liberty holds no priority to everyone’s safety. If... if powering down during such a storm means we prevent any injury--to others, property, or myself--then I’ll make no argument.”

“Nor’easters aren’t as common as you’d think.” Sticks patted Angel’s chassis.

“Any is still more common than we’d like,” she added. They stood at the door to Room 110. “The average Laner won’t know that thing you wear are Pip-Boys. I don’t know why you’re here, but while you’re here, you should see Sutter Grove or Grey & Gould about a lock box, if you have any holotapes you want to keep safe. Better to have the arrangements made, than to scramble last minute, afloat in a thousand people caught up in storm preparations.”

“What do you know about Pip-Boys?” the ghoul started.

“I know they’re not just a computer, for one.” She dangled the key fob at arm’s length to see who’d take it, but she snatched it away from Sticks. Slowly, she grinned at him knowingly. “They can also be a key.”

She let them in, then gave the ghoul the key.

“If you need anything else,” she said, “ring at the Concierge desk. But for an hour or so, don’t need me in particular. Now that everyone’s checked in, I’ve got dinner plans. I’ll be back no later than midnight. Goodnight.”

The halls’ chevron walls contrasted to the geometric scale-like fans of the room. Two wall sconces to either side of the bed sported four of those strange curly red-green Burlington glass bulbs, and a matching swag lamp also hung opposite the bed. They had enough room to move about, but Angel still opted to extinguish its thruster and crawl about on its tendrils.

“I’ll bulk up some figurative guns in lieu of those I can’t have indoors, ha-hah!” it announced. The puffing up in its voice crumpled shortly. “Will we be at the mall all too long?”

“As brief as we can, chap. Brief as we can.” Sticks tossed down his hat and flopped to sit on the end of the bed with his untied apron in his lap. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and be done with all this by this time tomorrow.”

‘Choly hung his visor on the coat rack by the door. Then he pulled some things from Angel’s storage, and tucked his cash into it. He slung a fresh work rag over his shoulder, and grabbed Sticks’s right arm to drag him back up to stand.

“We don’t have our own private bathroom. Could you show me to the public bathroom? It sucks that I didn’t think to see if any of the stores had any toothpaste, but I still want to brush my teeth.”

“Sure. I think one’s just around the corner.”

“I trust the two of you can manage without me,” Angel said, nesting into the corner beside the low chest of drawers. “I’ll stay right here. Out of the way.”

“Angel...” ‘Choly put a hand on it as it tucked its ocular lenses flush to its chassis. “You’re not in the way.”

Sticks plopped his apron in the nightstand drawer.

“Come on. Sooner we can get back to the room, sooner I can finally get a good night’s sleep. It’s been almost two weeks.”

“I told you we could’ve pulled over in Concord for you to nap,” ‘Choly poked on their way out.

“We only made good time because I didn’t.”

The public bathrooms had been converted to showers. Most of the toilets’ plumbing now accommodated shower heads and floor drains, in individual stalls minus the doors. ‘Choly counted nine men besides themselves using these facilities: four in the showers, at least one in the toilets, and the rest at the sinks. The first moment he could, he squeezed in at a sink, and wet his toothbrush to get started. In a fit of stupidity, he turned to the fellow beside him.

“I couldn’t bum some toothpaste from you, could I?”

The middle-aged fellow jerked in place. His glare sobered ‘Choly on the spot.

“You’re in the men’s room. You know that, right?”

One of the men in the showers overheard him and covered up with his hands, cowering to one corner of his stall. Sticks steadied ‘Choly by the shoulder and cocked his head at the guy.

“Last I checked, men use the men’s room. If you’re not sure he’s in the right place, are you sure you’re in the right place?”

“Whatever, shambler. Yer both blind. I was just finishin’ up anyway.”

He slapped a half-crumpled toothpaste tube in ‘Choly’s hand, expectorated, and muttered the entire way out.

‘Choly nearly couldn’t bring himself to use it. He trembled the whole time he brushed. Meanwhile, Sticks stepped up to the sink the other man had been using, to whistle and use their bar of soap to wash up his face and mostly-bald scalp. He hadn’t brought in a toothbrush, so he just rubbed around some of ‘Choly’s toothpaste with a finger and rinsed his mouth out. ‘Choly put up blinders so no one would think he was watching them, but it felt more like deer in headlights. He eventually got the nerve to work at pocketing the bobby pins from his French twist, to brush out his hair at the sink, and rinse the road debris from it. He grounded himself by enumerating tasks for the next day.

I’ll need to bring in some things from the car. My robe. My change of clothes. Some towels. Surely, one of the stalls has a door, so I can--

Sticks laughed suddenly.

“You believe that guy? It’s like he’s never met a pint-sized Russian with long hair before.”

‘Choly glowered at him, with a panicked hush.

“Jacob, please. I just want to forget about it. It’s been happening all goddamn day, if you didn’t notice.” His body slacked in defeat. “Angel’s not the only one who feels unwelcome here.”

“Then that makes three of us. Ignorance isn’t always bliss. But we came here for a reason, and we’re going to see that through.”

‘Choly washed at his hands with their bar of soap, and couldn’t stop sighing.

“...Come on now. Let’s see your arm.”

Sticks removed his shirt without questions. ‘Choly unwrapped the wound to inspect it. Even despite the unusual lighting, it struck him dumb to see the wound had stopped bleeding, and had begun to close up quite cleanly. He carefully soaped up his hands to rinse the injury again, then patted it dry with the old rag, in the delirious inundation of an infatuated stream of thoughts.

Instead of a laundry list, his mind now recited all he could recall of Sticks’s Pip-Boy vitals mere hours ago. He couldn’t believe Sticks hadn’t somehow sneaked a Stimpak while he wasn’t looking. This ghoul... Dreamily, he awed in unmistakable proof his friend was more than a burn victim. He felt more brazen, more justified, in his ardor--the ghoul was a ghoul, long since not human. Unlike at the food court table, this time he caught himself lost in his dopey admiration, and straightened up to finish dressing Sticks’s upper arm. Sticks put his shirt back on, oblivious to ‘Choly’s fascination.

‘Choly’s stomach shifted characteristically. His mouth tugged to one side, and he swallowed at an excess of saliva.

“You go on back to the room without me. Don’t wait up. I... I might be a while.”

“You all right?”

“Dinner caught up with me, is all. I’m fine.”

Fortunately for him, most people seemed to use other bathrooms for the toilets, so not only was the line short, but the time he had to take didn’t much affect anyone but himself. There wasn’t any toilet paper, though he questioned whether it was supposed to, since the dispenser had no empty tube left. He would’ve felt even more disparaged if he hadn’t accidentally kept the rag from Sticks’s arm. He tried not to think about it.

Upon emerging from the stall, he flinched and nearly skipped washing his hands, only to flinch even harder at the need to wash out the rag. He ran a sink tap as hot as it would get, and praised that he’d managed to keep the bar of soap in the shuffle.

“The laundromat’s downstairs, pal,” he heard someone offer in nuisance as he wrung out the rag.

“I’ll remember that, thanks.”

When ‘Choly got back to the room, Angel let him in. It knew the sound of his steps without him even needing to knock. One of the two had pulled drawstring curtain-shades over the Burlington glass fixtures in the room to dim the lights, as they couldn’t simply be turned off. When he heard him enter, the ghoul sat up from the bed, in just his underwear. ‘Choly sat on the dressing stool at the foot of the bed and began to undress. The ghoul tenderly helped him out of his orthotics. He handed ‘Choly back his shirt, and sat on the side of the bed. ‘Choly tossed his orthotics, pants, sweater, and socks on the dressing stool. Then he set his glasses on his nightstand and crawled into the bed with Sticks.

'Choly would’ve melted readily into the full set of clean sheets, but he still couldn’t quite unlatch his brain from his day. He stared up into the recently repaired tiled ceiling. His thoughts wandered back to Sticks’s vitals diagnostics, as the ghoul took off his Pip-Boy and prosthetic, and laid back down with him. He cuddled up to Sticks, to feel his chest, his heartbeat, his body temperature... He started to kissing him, desperately wishing to get in the mood to do more than kiss him... but when Sticks held him closer and kissed him back, he crumpled to rest his head on Sticks’s shoulder. Even shirtless, the brackish scent of Glenn Johnny’s fry oil permeated him.

Sticks didn’t pressure him to continue, and they laid there in silence.

“I don’t know that you should’ve trusted me to know where to find the orthotics,” ‘Choly uttered finally, broken. “I’ve been to three Waldens now. The first only had a few scraps of paperwork left. The second had a lab, but I got it burned down. And the third? You just saw it. The next nearest Walden’s all the way in Bangor, if it’s still standing. And you already said hospitals are a no-go for some reason. Maybe... maybe I’m not supposed to have better medical equipment.”

“Oh shut up. Shut up.” Sticks grabbed a fistful at the back of ‘Choly’s head. “I won’t have this after everything I’ve dealt with to get here. The stuff that was in the warehouse, isn’t. So what?” He let go once he knew he’d shaken ‘Choly to really hear him. “This is the oldest settlement in the Hinter. Of course the city’s picked over. Angel’s right. There’s Laners who scav to stock their shops. We’re bound to find some of the stuff from Walden here. It’s too close to the Lane, for us not to.”

“I... You’re right.” His mouth did most of the trembling at that point. “I don’t think you understand, though, just exactly how dearly I need these orthotics. The corset in particular serves multiple purposes for me. My physical state and my gender have begun to blur together. For the past few months, I’ve been using the canvas orthotic corset over there. It does a similar job to the bust flattener I had before, well. I still resent the Vault staff for burning all my belongings, but the flattener wouldn’t provide me any spinal stability anyway... The shape of me gives me such an unbearable grief at times. But the corset helps some.”

Another lull transpired, while Sticks caressed ‘Choly’s scalp from where he’d gripped it. It was almost like the ghoul didn’t know what to say. Or maybe, he just could tell ‘Choly’s silence said multitudes, and he didn’t want to interrupt him.

“...Is that what all this is about? No wonder you’re so upset about earlier.” Sticks pulled him tighter to him, and held him in both arms. “We’re going to find those things.”

“It doesn’t bother you, does it? For a man to lie beside you, looking like I do?”

“I don’t see why it would. Not that my opinion really weighs in on who you are. People come in all kinds of shapes. You’re... you-shaped. Always have been.” He kissed at ‘Choly’s forehead a few times, then pressed his lips to his, letting his hand and wrist wander impassioned. “Now are you up for a little fooling around a little on a nice, big, fresh bed? Or are you still mopey? There’s only one right answer.”

“You’re the best way to get my mind off things,” he relented.

“Attaboy.”

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#fallout #fallout 4 #fallout 4 fanfic #fallout fanfic #sole survivor #trans sole survivor #disabled sole survivor #ghoul oc #mister handy #melancholy #sticks #angel #orqueida #the anatomy of melancholy #third instar

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franstastic-ideas · 5 years

Text

Beyond a Shadow of a Doubt

Wraithtale AU - Sans and Gaster haven’t seen eye-to-eye for a while now; even small conversations between the two can feel like an uphill battle. When the existence of shadow monsters is revealed to the people of Ebott Town, Gaster forbids Sans to make any contact with them. To spite him, Sans decides that he’s going to become besties with a monster girl – Frisk. He probably could have handled his introduction better, though. Now she thinks you’re a creeper, Sans.

Word Count: 20,600

Warnings: Family drama, some mild body horror, repeating themes of poor self-worth and esteem, and one minor curse that's repeated twice.

It's been fine weather yesterday and today, so we watched the clouds.

It's weather that makes you lazy, and slowly closes your eyes.

It seems it's hard to remember "that" so easily now,

As we've been getting older ever since...

~~~~~~~~~~

"Sans." A familiar stern-sounding voice said from behind him. "Where do you think you're going?"

"well crap…" Sans thought.

Things had not gone according to plan. If they had, he would have been out of the house and far away from the old man before he even knew he had left. But no, Gaster just had to be on top of his game today. Why hadn't he recalled that today was Gaster's day off? Now he remembered: it was because his father didn't bother telling him anything anymore, unless it was about another one of Sans's screw-ups. It seemed like he couldn't do anything right anymore in his father's eyes.

Home was supposed to be where the heart is, the one place in the world where you felt most comfortable and safe. But lately, this place didn't feel like home anymore to Sans.

Sans wanted to retort that it was none of his business, but he was reminded of his younger brother and his sincere and earnest wish for the two of them to get along again, so he held himself back, albeit begrudgingly.

He would try to make this work, if only for him.

"c'mon, sans. do it for paps…" He mentally urged himself to be civil.

"well hiya, pops! didn't see ya when i came through. sure is some great weather that we're having this morning!"

"ok, that sounded fake." Sans could have gagged at his clearly faux overly cheery tone; that didn't sound like him at all.

"Sans, it's eleven thirty. It's almost noon."

"but we're still in the a.m. hours, and if we were at grillby's right now he'd still be serving breakfast, so it's still morning in my books."

Now that sounded more like himself.

"Okay then, let's agree to disagree. Anyhow, you're avoiding my question and I want an answer: where are you going, Sans?"

"i was going outside."

"Yes, anyone with two brain cells could see that!" Gaster was losing his patience. "Allow me to rephrase my previous question – where are you going outside?"

"i dunno. i might go see alph and 'dyne, bro and i might work some jobs around town, i might go to grillby's for lunch…" Sans prattled off everything he thought Gaster wanted to hear and then finished it off with something he knew he didn't want to hear. "pretty much anywhere that isn't here."

Sans had to stop himself from stomping as he made his way towards the front door. When he reached for the doorknob, his father's voice halted him once more.

"…You really hate me that much, don't you?"

"i didn't say that. you know i didn't say anything like that, so quit trying to guilt trip me."

It had taken every ounce of Sans's willpower not to raise his voice; he had already failed Papyrus's request for them to be civil towards each other, and it made him feel ashamed even though his brother wasn't here to witness their latest spat. But he and Gaster had been at each other's throats even more than usual for the past few days and Sans needed to get out and clear his head before he said or did something he would regret, and Gaster himself was making this harder to do than necessary.

He didn't hate his father, but Sans didn't think he could ever love him as he once had.

"You're going out wearing that?" Gaster pointed at his blue hoodie.

"yeah, i am. i always do, don't i?"

"It's 90 degrees fahrenheit. You could suffer from heat stroke wearing that. Take it off."

"i'll drink water." Sans all but growled before swinging the door open and shutting it behind him with a slam.

Once he was out of the house and far enough away, he took a shuddering breath. He had grown so furious that if he had stayed even a second longer, he was sure he would have lost his temper. Nothing looked right to Sans when he was angry – colors and shapes blended together and blurred. He couldn't even speak coherently when his temper reached a certain point.

He hated feeling like this – he felt like some sort of wild animal. No, something that went beyond man or beast.

He remembered the breathing excercises Toriel had taught him.

In. One… Two… Three…

Out. Exhale. Slowly.

Repeat.

He did so until he felt the negative emotions leave his body enough to regain his thoughts, silently sending thanks to Toriel for her assistance even when she couldn't be there. He wouldn't have forgiven himself if someone had come across him and he snapped at them while in that state.

Sans looked down at the sleeves of his hoodie and he couldn't deny that it did feel too warm at times to wear it, especially now since it was summer. Before, he had been reluctant to part with it simply because it was his favorite article of clothing. But now… not wearing it wasn't an option. And Gaster knew that. And yet he had spoken as if he were exasperated with him wearing it constantly.

"no, I'm not taking it off, because i can't! and i wouldn't have to wear it all the time if it weren't for you!" He had wanted to scream.

But deep in his heart, he knew he shouldn't and couldn't place the blame on Gaster. As angry and hurt as he was with him, as much as their relationship had deteriorated, he couldn't blame his father for it.

It was an accident.

And it had been four months since the accident, but sometimes Sans could still feel the wounds inflicted upon him with the same intensity of pain as the day he received them.

~~~~~~~~~~

After calming down considerably, Sans had decided to go to Grillby's for lunch after all. He would probably do everything on the list of things he gave Gaster before he left, but there was also something he planned to do that he didn't mention – Gaster would blow his top if he discovered Sans's newest pasttime.

"Hey… look at that guy over there." Sans heard someone whisper not so discreetly behind him – an out of towner, most likely a tourist that dropped in Grillby's as a rest stop before continuing on their merry way, probably to the big public beach a few towns over.

"You mean the one wearing the coat in this weather?"

"Yeah, that one. He ordered, like, three burgers when he clearly doesn't need them. I mean, just look at him! What a fatass."

Sans flinched in his seat, but he chose to ignore them and continue eating.

His burger didn't taste as good as it did before…

"Hey, I think he heard you."

"Do you think I care? I'm just telling the truth. He can't get mad over that."

"Excuse me, ladies." A low, smooth masculine voice interjected – Grillby, the restaurant's owner and one of Sans's longtime friends, had chosen to leave his position behind the counter and intervene.

"Y-Yes?" The first woman stuttered, both out of being caught badmouthing another customer and out of shock from seeing Grillby's handsome face up close – some citizens of the town and smitten passerbys still wondered to this day why he settled on becoming a cook for his profession and not a male model instead.

"I do not condone such behavior within the walls of my establishment, nor outside them if I can help it." His tone was polite, yet firm. "If you cannot act like civilized well-mannered individuals, then please leave the premises and never return."

The lady seemed offended and her company embarrassed, trying to make herself look small in the booth where they were seated. The first woman dug into her purse and slammed some money onto the table then grabbed her friend roughly by the arm and dragged her out the door, muttering a colorful string of curses under her breath that Sans was surprised he hadn't called her out for.

"aw, grillbz, ya didn't have to do that."

"They were being rude. It's restaurant protocol to toss out discourteous and troublesome customers. And… they were speaking terribly about my friend."

"you can't throw out everybody that calls me a fatass, grillbz. it's bad for business."

"Language. And perhaps not, but I can certainly try." Grillby ran a hand through his shoulder length hair, the red and orange waves of locks almost resembling the flickering of flames when in motion. "And I don't care about business when it was none of theirs to be making unwarranted comments on others' appearances, in this case towards you. That's harrassment, Sans, and I don't know why or how you tolerate such actions on a regular basis."

"eh, you get used to it after a while of hearing it so much."

"But you shouldn't have to." Grillby sighed, knowing that this conversation was leading to nowhere, as per usual whenever they entered this subject matter.

Sans received large portions of unwarranted gossip, especially since he returned from college with no degree and refused to speak of why he was back early, deflecting any and all questions asked about the issue. Sans had left the town and was supposed to have majored in the field of science like his father, but he, like many others in Ebott Town that aimed for higher things, ended up coming back. Grillby was one of them as well – he had left town for culinary school, but he wasn't gone long before he set up his restaurant here. Whenever someone left Ebott supposedly for good only to come back, that person became the center of gossip for a while.

But aside from the rumors circulating around him about his sudden departure from college, Sans usually heard insulting remarks about his body or less than positive remarks on his mismatched eyes. Sans wasn't obese or even fat, but he could definitely be considered chubby. Even so, he was nowhere near as lazy as most thought him to be – he could run fast enough to keep up with more thin-bodied friends, and a great deal of what others thought was fat was in fact muscle that came from years of wrestling with Undyne. You don't get to play rough with Undyne like he had and not get some muscle mass out of it.

Then there was his bone structure – he had naturally thick bones. He had first found this incredibly odd and didn't believe Gaster or Toriel when he was told this until the latter had Sans take an x-ray and showed it to him. It seemed so unlikely to him because Gaster wasn't built like him, nor was Papyrus, and from the few dusty old pictures he could find of his mother, she wasn't thick bodied either. When he compared himself to them, he looked like an outsider, nothing like them at all aside from skin color and perhaps his eyes; one of them, anyway.

"i guess every family's got to have a member that's ugly as sin. might as well have been me."

If it had to be himself or Papyrus that was burdened with an undesirable appearance, he would choose himself every time. Papyrus was blessed with all their father's good looks, and Sans was thankful for that. He would never have to deal with what Sans did so often.

That wasn't to say that Sans always rolled over and took the verbal abuse. Definitely not; there were times when his patience was finally pushed to the limit and the beast within was unleashed. The terrified and shocked screaming of those who brought forth this reaction from him was priceless, their expressions clearly showing that they didn't expect him to be capable of running, especially not at such a remarkable speed, and towards them with fists flying.

It was especially bad for the unlucky souls that provoked his wrath when Undyne was also in the vicinity. She would drop everything she was currently doing and not ask any questions at all before happily joining in on the pummeling. The fiery redhead didn't need to ask anything – if Sans was beating the living snot out of somebody, then they definitely deserved it.

If Alphys was also there, she would record the entire thing and then edit soundtracks from shounen action anime over the scene to show it to them later. Mettaton had wanted to upload the videos she collected onto the internet, the fame monster, but Sans immediately denied him the right to do so despite his whining and begging.

Even so, sometimes during the ensuing chaos, if he was also present, Mettaton liked to play announcer, commenting on the big ball of violence that was unfolding around him with increasing enthusiasm.

With friends like Sans had, Grillby wondered why anybody bothered trying to bully Sans anymore. He had seen the compilation video Alphys had sent him – Sans by himself could be an absolute beast when pushed far enough, but Undyne too? And the additional humiliation of Mettaton's added commentery along with Alphys recording and holding cinematic proof of the harasser's resulting beatdown? Someone would have to be an idiot to pick on Sans at this point, and unfortunately, there were still times where he would be surrounded by idiots.

Poor Papyrus – he would always try to put an end to the fighting if he happened to witness or catch wind of it. He disapproved of some of his friends' eagerness to start throwing punches and kicks, believing that violence wasn't the answer. He tried to take the adult approach and pull everyone aside to speak with and scold them on their behavior like the mom friend he was. Of course, the ones who evoked Sans's wrath in the first place weren't the least bit sorry for what they had done; sorry for getting thoroughly thrashed maybe, but not for their continuous unkind remarks that led to the situation in the first place.

Sans and Alphys could be guilted somewhat easily, but Undyne and Mettaton were different. Sans didn't like the disgusting feeling that washed over him once the built-up aggression had faded and his desire for instant karmic retribution inflicted on those who had agonized him had been satisified, and Alphys simply didn't like the idea of Papyrus being upset with her for any reason ever. Undyne, however, would hold firm to her actions, believing that anyone who was subject to the combined forces of her's and Sans's dukes most certainly had it coming. And Mettaton was an enabler when it came to creating drama - he actively encouraged it if said action would bring about a situation or story that he found spicy.

Grillby felt sympathetic towards Papyrus, he really did.

As much as he loved Sans as a friend, he had to admit, out of the whole lot, Papyrus was almost always the only sane man, and that was saying something.

But he also couldn't lie and say that seeing Sans stand up for himself wasn't satisfying, if not incredibly alarming and heavy on brutality.

Sans wasn't a violent person in the slightest normally, but sometimes, a person can only be pushed for so long and too far before they've had enough, he thought…

Grillby studied Sans's face carefully for a few moments, causing the latter to eventually take notice.

"…what? have i got ketchup on my face?"

"No. I was only wondering… it may be none of my business, though I am concerned, but… did you and Dr. Gaster have another falling out this morning?"

"gee, grillbz. now that ain't fair." He shook his head, turning away from him. "ya read me like a book. …how could ya tell?"

"You seem troubled. Your eyebrows were knitted together almost the entire time since you walked in and your posture is tense." He answered, his gaze softening. "Do you need to stay at my place for a while until things settle?"

"nah, i appreciate the gesture, grillbz, but it's fine, really."

"Then would you like some company and perhaps we could discuss the matter? I can go on break and we could talk-"

"nah, nah, you don't gotta do that. 'm ok, don't worry. 'specially not over me." Sans stood up and began pushing him towards the kitchen. "now go on, grillby; you gotta get back to work and i told tori pap and i'd help paint her roof. off ya go, now."

"Sans!"

"bye, grillbz! see ya later! money's on the counter!" He shoved his friend into the kitchen then shut the door, breathing a heavy sigh.

This wasn't the first time Grillby had offered to open up his home to Sans, and sometimes he took him up on it when things in the Gaster household were especially strained, but Sans didn't want to trouble his friend and his own household when it wasn't necessary. There were occasions where it truly had been best for both himself and Gaster's mental wellbeing for the two to distance themselves from one another, but despite his minor meltdown earlier, this morning had not been one of those times of urgency.

Grillby's younger sister Celosia was also in middle school, and that was a busy time for a kid her age. He always felt guilty for intruding into their home during the nights where she had school the next day and probably had homework that was difficult to concentrate on with his presence invading her personal space. Now that it was summer, she might want to invite over some of her friends for the evening or have a sleepover, and Celosia couldn't do that with total peace of mind when Sans was in the room next door having an emotional breakdown and unpacking it all on her big brother.

So it was for the best that he not drag his friend into his personal problems anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Now Sans, you should be more careful climbing up those steps!" He heard Toriel warn him from below.

Papyrus had already perched himself up on the roof, helping steady the ladder from up there while Toriel held it from the bottom. Even so, both were chronic worriers and were afraid of him slipping and falling.

"i got it, no need to panic. see, 'm already over halfway there- woah!" As soon as those words left his mouth, he nearly missed a step and teetered backwards, the ladder beginning to wobble slightly.

"Sans!" Both yelled in panic, their grip on the ladder tightening.

"'m fine! probably shouldn't have spoke so soon. better wait 'til i've made it up all the way to start bragging."

"You can still fall from up there if you aren't careful, young man." Toriel reminded him with a cross glare before letting out a fretful sigh. "I'm beginning to regret this. One or both of you could get killed."

"don't sweat it, tori. we've climbed bigger heights than this, haven't we paps?"

"YES, THAT IS TRUE, BUT LET'S NOT TOSS ASIDE OUR OWN WELL BEINGS FOR THE THRILL OF THE CLIMB. AND LET US NOT FORGET THAT THIS IS A VERTICAL ASCENSION AND NOT A GRADUALLY RISING HORIZONTAL ONE!"

"I assume the two of you are speaking of climbing Mount Ebott." Toriel said, turning a glance towards the near impossibly tall snowcapped mountain that loomed over them, the town's namesake and centerpiece. "While climbing up a ladder is different than climbing up a mountain path by a wide margin, both still have their dangers."

Once Sans was close enough for him to reach, Papyrus grabbed him under the arms and hoisted him up onto the roof with little to no effort – his brother was so strong and muscular, it was no wonder the town's kids thought he was great and wanted to be like him when they grew up.

He couldn't blame them at all – Papyrus was just the coolest.

Once he was safely up on the roof, seated next to his brother, he reached for a brush and can of paint and both began to work. Over half of the surface was already painted green and the unpainted sections purple. Toriel and Asgore were going to finish the job themselves, but Asgore was called into the town office unexpectedly for reasons she was sure to hear about later. He didn't want her to finish painting it alone, fearing what should happen if she were to stumble up there by herself, so she called in the brothers for help.

Papyrus was accepting offers for odd jobs around town until he found what he wanted to do in life, and now that Sans wasn't in college anymore, he had to make money for himself somehow. Gaster earned a good income, but Papyrus had wanted to start providing for himself though they lived under the same roof. And Sans wasn't going to allow himself to depend on his father for anything anymore since the accident, so he began to pitch in and pay the bills as well, though less out of a desire to prove himself a mature and responsible adult and more as a gesture to spite the old man.

It was a surprisingly effective countermove on Sans's part – he felt that Gaster inwardly resented him for getting kicked out of college and therefore barring himself from a well-paying job. By adding his own earnings into the house's collective funds, he was effectively telling his father without words that he could indeed support himself just fine without relying on his financial aid, as it was originally Gaster's idea to push Sans towards the college path when he first entered his junior year of high school.

There were days where Sans was actually happy to have gotten expelled, but mostly, he wished he hadn't, even if it was Gaster's desire for him to get a degree and eventually join him in his scientific endeavors. Sans had once loved science and taking part in the experiments he did with his father, but now invention and formulas only brought a bitter taste to his mouth when it once had brought joy.

That's why Sans so often grew so unmeasurably upset with him – despite all that's happened, his father still dropped everything else in his life and ran to science with open arms, even though it ironically costed Sans his college degree, his mental health, their previous family dynamic, and even Sans's entire future.

It wasn't the accident itself that hurt Sans to this day – it was Gaster's reaction to it.

Following this was when Sans began to spend so much time away from the house. If Gaster wanted to spend all his time with his work, then that's exactly what Sans would give him. Gaster had already made his choice, now he'd have to live with it, Sans thought.

The worst part about losing his opportunity for earning the college degree though was that now Sans had nothing to show for himself when people insulted him. Before, where there was a person that shamed him for his appearance, another would fearfully whisper that he was the son of the famed scientist Gaster and he was sure to follow in his footsteps, then the offending person would respectfully back off. During those times, he had felt so proud to be his son.

But now he was just Gaster's failure drop-out son.

Just another comeback kid for the entire town to talk about behind his back.

"the only reason the both of you are so bent out of shape over me going up a ladder is because i'm so fat you think i'm gonna break it."

His inner self-loathing was slipping out through his speech, he realized too late. He told Grillby before he was used to it, but he guessed now that what the woman at the bar had said affected him more than he previously thought. You could only hear something negative about you said to your face for so long before beginning to believe it yourself, even when you knew it wasn't true. And though he was normally easygoing, even Sans wasn't immune to bearing issues of self-esteem.

And Toriel wasn't about to stand for it.

"Sans, we've been over this – you're not fat, you're just-"

"big-boned. i know, i get it." He replied, his response coming off as more snippy than he intended it to and his brush strokes consequently more messy with his soured attitude, which he quickly tried to ammend.

He had been shown his own x-rays plenty of times to know that what she was saying was the truth, but it actually only made him feel worse. Losing weight was something he could do – changing his entire bone structure wasn't.

"Has someone said something to you recently about this?" She inquired, arms crossed over her chest and eyes narrowing as she studied him as closely as possible from where she was standing.

Sans could deny all he wanted, but Toriel's suspicions were already confirmed without him saying a word. There was no use in smudging the facts or concealing anything from her when she was like this – Ultimate Mega Mom Mode, Undyne called it. Toriel was Asriel's mother, but she was also a mother to everyone that knew her. She filled that maternal role that was absent from his and Papyrus's home nearly since they first moved here as children.

And when one of Mama Toriel's children were mistreated, she wanted to know the details first, the who then, and the why later.

Sans murmured something, but it was lost on the wind.

"What was that dear? I didn't quite catch that?" She asked with a heavy frown and a lowered brow.

"…a lady at grillby's called me 'fatass'."

"who was she?" She immediately questioned.

"an out of towner. she's long gone by now. 'sides, grillby ran her off."

"That Grillby is a good boy. He hasn't let his sudden popularity change his core values in the slightest." She smiled, apparently happy with his answer.

Before graduating high school, Grillby had been bullied for having an appearance that was considered 'nerdy'. He was required to wear glasses, and the large round frames he wore then didn't flatter his facial structure. Not only that, but the way he dressed, the way he spoke just screamed 'nerd' to his tormentors. But when he came back to Ebott Town, everyone that knew him, including the ones who had so often went out of their way to make his days miserable, had discovered that he had changed during his absence.

Grillby is now regarded as a chick-magnet, and though he has since forgiven those that used to agonize him, inside, he hasn't, and never will forget what they had done to shatter his self-confidence in the past.

He had graduated when Sans entered his sophmore year, and though the former had changed a great deal physically since he left town, Sans had internally felt a sense of relief when he learned his friend remained the same on the inside upon returning.

"yeah, grillbz is a great guy." Sans readily agreed.

"WAIT A MINUTE – YOU ATE AT GRILLBY'S?" Before he could answer, Papyrus continued. "THEN YOU DIDN'T EAT THE BREAKFAST I MADE FOR YOU THIS MORNING?!"

"no, i didn't. 'm sorry i didn't when you went to the trouble to make it. i just… didn't have time to."

Papyrus always woke up at six 'o clock in the morning, made breakfast for himself, Sans and their father, then once he was finished, he went out for a morning jog that lasted for at least an hour to start off his day. Papyrus was the designated cook of the household, making sure that everyone was fed. They always ate whatever Papyrus served them, but they never ate meals together at the table anymore, always separately.

Sans usually took his breakfast with him if he couldn't eat it in serenity at home, but he had ran into Gaster before he could grab his plate and the ensuing confrontation had made him forget it.

"It's wonderful that someone stands up for you when you won't for yourself." Toriel's voice brought them both back on topic, thankfully – otherwise Sans would have had to explain to his brother just why he didn't have time to eat his lovingly crafted breakfast, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

"tori, it doesn't bother me."

"EVEN IF IT DOESN'T, SANS, IT'S STILL WRONG! HAD THAT LADY NOT LEFT EBOTT AS QUICKLY AS SHE HAD, I WOULD HAVE BEEN FORCED TO SPEAK WITH HER ON THE CONSEQUENCES OF EXHIBITING SUCH POOR AND DISRESPECTFUL MANNERS IN A RELAXED PUBLIC SETTING, GRILLBY OR NO GRILLBY."

"Papyrus is absolutely right, dear. I'm afraid your feelings towards such inexcusable behavior doesn't matter – if you heard the exact same thing happened to your brother or even me, even though either of us said we wouldn't let what was said bother us, how would you feel?"

"i'd still be furious."

"So why should it be any different for us when concerning you?" He then peered over the edge of the roof to find her smiling sweetly at him.

Sans wanted to argue that he was a different case compared to them, but they would only argue and try to make him see otherwise.

So he decided changing the subject entirely and steering the attention away from himself was the best course of action to take.

"so, green, huh?" He asked after a lengthy pause, looking at the paint.

Toriel knew he was trying to create a diversion, but she allowed him peace and answered his question.

"Yes. When Asgore and I married and bought this house, he said he wanted the roof to be my favorite color, so it was painted purple. Now, so many years later, the old paint was chipping away and fading, so the two of us decided it should be painted Asriel's favorite color – green."

"is asriel happy to be out of school for the summer?"

"He's so overjoyed he barely knows what to do with himself or all the free time he has on his hands now. He's out with his friends for the afternoon; Grillby's sister Celosia and… oh, that blonde boy with the spiked hairstyle. I always forget his name and it makes me feel so ashamed because he's Asriel's friend and he's been invited over here so many times that I should know! Oh, but that hair of his… Asriel has been wanting his own cut like that and I've been trying to dissuade him from it. If that's what he really wants, I won't try to stop him anymore, but I don't know if Asriel really wants that specific style or if he's trying to follow some sort of trend."

"if you're wanting to know about fashion trends, i'm the last person you need to be asking." Sans laughed more to himself. "i just roll out of bed like this – if it's stuff about clothes or hair that's popular, it's matt you want to talk to, or, well, mettaton. that's what he's going by now since he got in over his head with that band he started up."

"Didn't you tell me once young Matthew, or rather Mettaton, renamed himself after an angel?" Sans and Papyrus both gave positive confirmations to her question. "But wouldn't that be 'Metatron' instead?"

"yeah. he read it wrong." Sans snickered. "so now he's stuck with a typo for a name."

"WELL, I STILL THINK IT SOUNDS COOL! IT JUST BREATHES STARDOM, JUST LIKE HE SAID!" Papyrus huffed, sending his brother a pointed glare, to which he childishly stuck his tongue out at him.

Papyrus then flicked his brush at him, splattering green flecks of paint on his face. Sans was about to wipe it off on his sleeve, but before he could, a white handkerchief was tossed in his direction. His brother was always prepared – the definite mom that oversaw their group of friends when Toriel couldn't.

"thanks, bro."

"IT WAS NOTHING. YOU WEAR THAT HOODIE SO MUCH THAT, IF IT GOT PAINT ON IT, YOU PROBABLY STILL WOULDN'T WASH IT UNTIL I MADE YOU."

"according to alphys, the main character of any story has to have some kind of wardrobe or piece of clothing that identifies them – this hoodie is mine, just like yours is your red scarf."

"WELL, I SUPPOSE YOU'RE RIGHT…" He hesitantly agreed, toying with the somewhat tattered ends of his scarf. He then gasped. "WAIT – YOU THINK THAT I COULD BE A MAIN CHARACTER? ME?!"

"of course, bro. who wouldn't want to watch a show where you were the star?"

"AWW, SANS! THAT'S THE SWEETEST THING YOU'VE SAID ALL WEEK! GET OVER HERE." Deciding that Sans was too slow, Papyrus shuffled over on his knees, throwing his arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug.

Sans happily returned the gesture – he's had an awful day so far, but a hug from his bro always made a horrible day better.

Papyrus suddenly recoiled and stuck out his tongue with a loud 'bleh'. "EW! YOU SMELL LIKE GRILLBY'S! I'VE CHANGED MY MIND - GET AWAY! GET AWAY!"

"aw, come on, bro. don't be like that." Sans grinned widely, holding out his arms and shuffling towards him while Papyrus moved in the opposite direction.

"KEEP YOUR DISTANCE FROM ME, CONSUMER OF GREASE!"

"but i love you so much, bro. c'mon, a little elbow grease is good for ya."

"NYEH! THAT PUN WAS HORRIBLE! JUST TERRIBLE! ONE OF YOUR WORST ONES YET!"

"you sure? 'cause i'm starting to think you might be a bit fried and prejudiced against my jokes."

"EUGH, NO! WHAT HAVE I STARTED?"

"nothin'. just one whopper of a pun, that's all."

"SAAAANS! IF YOU WON'T STOP YOUR PUGNACIOUS PUNNING, I'LL JUST HAVE TO PUT AN END TO IT MYSELF!"

"go ahead, hit me with your best shallot."

"NYEEEEEEEEH!" Papyrus lunged for him, attempting to cover his mouth to block the endless stream of bad puns from escaping.

"Boys!" Toriel called from down below, the pair hovering a bit too close to the edge for her liking. "I can understand the sudden need to initiate a brotherly round of roughhousing as much as the next person, but my nerves would be far more at ease if the two of you would wait until you were standing on solid ground to do so, and instead put your current focus on staying a-chive while up there."

"MRS. DREEMUR, HOW COULD YOU?! I THOUGHT WE HAD AN UNDERSTANDING!" Papyrus fake wept dramatically, but backed away a safe distance from the edge as requested of him.

"yeah, paps. better move back some before we make a mis-steak that'll cost us our lives."

"YOU SAY THAT, BUT YOU'RE ACTING LIKE YOU WANT ME TO THROW YOU OFF THIS ROOF!"

He reached over to snatch at Sans again, but before he could, he slipped and lost his balance, falling directly on his brother with a loud cry of alarm. Once again they heard the worried shouts of Toriel below.

"Sans and Papyrus Gaster!" Oh no, she had brought out the last name. "If one of you stumbles off that roof and the impact doesn't kill you, then so help me, I'll strangle the both of you myself!"

"yes, ma'am! sorry, ma'am! won't happen again!"

"YES, MA'AM! SORRY, MA'AM! WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN!"

Their tomfoolery immediately ceased and the two continued diligently painting the roof as they had before.

~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm so sorry for shouting at you like that, dears." She apologized once the two were finished and on safe solid ground. "But I don't know what I would have done if anything had happened to either of you."

She stole a glance at Sans's covered arms and said quietly, her voice dropping down to a whisper that only he could hear. "We've already suffered one tragedy. One is plenty enough."

He broke eye contact with her to wordlessly tug at his sleeves.

"Do they still hurt? Have you been using the balm the doctors prescribed to you?"

"yeah, i've been using it. and, no, it doesn't hurt." But while subjected under her caring gaze, he found that he couldn't lie to her. "…not as much as before."

She gave him relieved smile, happy that he decided to be honest with her. Before Papyrus could get too curious as to what they were talking about, Toriel decided to produce a distraction.

"I made lemonade earlier, and I think you boys have earned it after a job well done."

A short while later, the three were sipping on their drinks under the shade of her expansive front porch. During the evening, she liked to come out with Asgore and watch the fireflies dance about. She looked again towards the massive mountain.

"Sans? Papyrus? You mentioned earlier that the two of you occasionally climb Mount Ebott?"

The two of them nodded.

"Have you seen anything peculiar of interest?"

"…like what?"

"SANS GOES UP THERE MORE THAN I DO, SO IF HE HASN'T SEEN WHAT YOU'RE VAGUELY REFERRING TO, THEN I CERTAINLY HAVEN'T."

"Oh, just, you know… anything unusual."

"…ooohhh. you're talking about the wraiths, aren't you?"

"Well, not especially. I really did mean anything odd at all."

"well, if we're talking about the wraiths, than no, haven't seen 'em."

"I SAW A WILD GOOSE THE OTHER DAY. IT HONKED AT ME AND CHASED ME FOR A REALLY LONG TIME! I THREW A PIECE OF LETTUCE FROM A SANDWICH I HAD PACKED FOR LUNCH AT IT AND ITS ATTENTION WAS SUCCESSFULLY DIVERTED! ANOTHER SPECTACULAR VICTORY FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS!"

"crazy bird." Sans shook his head, taking another sip of his glass before asking, "why'd you wanna know if we saw anything?"

"Because lately, a significant increase in sightings have been reported. Of the wraiths, I mean. I thought that if you two were walking the mountain trail, you may have seen something."

"nope. we haven't seen anything like that, have we, paps?"

"NO. JUST THE OCCASIONAL UNREASONABLY ANGRY BIRD."

"I see. I suppose that being pursued by a territorial goose is enough of a sight."

"do you believe in them, tori? i mean, they're just supposed to be old town legends, right?"

"I honestly don't know how to answer that question. It's true that people have lived in this town for centuries, and the existence of these shadow creatures hasn't been proven. They're even supposed to be highly skilled practitioners of magic. Magic! It all sounds so fantastical, it would be logical to believe it as pure fiction. And yet, so many have seen something up in the mountains that resembles those monsters of lore throughout the years, and their accounts all being so similar to one another with very little deviation." She breathed a relaxed sigh, sinking further into her rocking chair. "I guess I don't have a clear answer. But I do know that there are some things that science or logical reasoning just can't explain away, and I suppose the wraiths are just one of them. We may never know, and perhaps it's for the best it stay that way."

"FOR THE BEST? WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?"

"because think about it, paps. if someone proved that the mountain had monsters on it, what do you think would happen?" Sans didn't give his brother a chance to answer before continuing. "they'd either be captured for experiments or killed on the spot. that's how it always goes in the books and movies, and art imitates life and life imitates art."

"…MAYBE THINGS WOULDN'T HAPPEN THAT WAY IF THEY WERE DISCOVERED BY THE RIGHT PERSON! IF THEY EXISTED, THAT IS."

"maybe. but that person'd have to be something special. most would kill something like that without a shred of hesitation."

He decided not to mention the more malevolent legends surrounding the wraiths – the ones where, if they caught you, they would eat you from the inside out and then inhabit your corpse in order to impersonate you.

After reading about those tales, Sans wondered how many innocent lives were taken when, many years ago, villagers were said to have burned anyone alive who went into the mountains and returned acting strange, believing their body had been abducted by a wraith.

As a child, his bullies had always told him he would never have to worry about a wraith wanting to steal his body, because you had to have a life in the first place for them to take, and his face was far too ugly for even a monster to desire.

"What about you, Sans? Do you believe the wraiths exist?" Toriel asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"i dunno, to be honest. i guess if enough evidence piles up, i will, but right now they still sound too much like something adults made up to make sure their kids stayed off the mountain so they didn't get eaten by bears or something." He took another sip of lemonade and chuckled. "now muffet, she definitely thinks they're real. that girl should have went on to be a cryptozoologist instead of working in her family's bakery, but she does make a mean blueberry muffin. she's gone up in the mountains for years and sometimes she comes back saying she saw something."

"Do you believe her?"

"i believe she believes she saw something, if that counts. muffet wants to see something so bad that maybe her eyes might be playing tricks on her."

"I think one's attitude towards the legends might have a lot to do with it. There are even some that travel to Mount Ebott with the sole purpose of trying to capture one on film. Almost all of them leave disappointed, but i have seen on the television some nights before in the past where one will get a photograph or video of a shadow that could be perceived as a wraith. Although, picture editing softwares exist now, don't they? So it all could be faked. This old lady doesn't know anything about modern technology - I still don't understand those me-mes you kids send me sometimes on the cellphone."

"it's pronounced 'memes', tori!" Sans actually laughed, almost spitting out his drink.

"Is that right? I've been pronouncing it wrong this entire time."

Suddenly Papyrus's cellphone went off, the familiar lyrics of Caravan Palace's 'Black Betty' filling the once relatively quiet space around them. He quickly picked it up and squinted at the screen.

"IT'S A TEXT MESSAGE. FROM UNDYNE! SHE TURNED ON HER LOCATION…? …SHE SAYS IT'S AN EMERGENCY! AND SHE NEEDS ME OVER THERE RIGHT AWAY!"

"You had better run along then and see what she wants." Toriel chuckled.

"AND I WILL! THANK YOU, MRS. DREEMUR, FOR THE DELICIOUS LEMONADE! I MUST BE OFF, FOR I AM NEEDED ELSEWHERE!"

With that, Papyrus jumped up and performed a backflip off the porch railing, landing perfectly on his feet an impressive distance away and sped off in the direction of the location Undyne had told him she was at, leaving trails of dust behind him in his wake.

"Will you be joining him? Wherever it is he's going?" Toriel asked Sans, who had moved from where he had been lounging in her hammock to sit up.

"maybe. i dunno. with undyne, an emergency can either mean anything from 'this guy is trying to rob somebody, let's pulverize him into oblivion' to 'hey, come watch me suplex this entire boulder'."

"I see. In that case, if you aren't leaving, then might I talk to you for a bit?"

"…what about, tori?"

"There were a few things that I wanted to ask you earlier, but Papyrus was here, so…" She took a deep breath, then let out a long sigh, her gaze both remorseful and sympathetic towards him for what was about to be said. "It's about you and Dr. Gaster."

"i figured as much." Sans replied flatly, then thought, "of course it had to be about that. i really don't wanna talk about this right now…"

While he had occasionally unloaded some of his familial issues onto Grillby when he just couldn't keep his inner turmoil locked away anymore and Grillby was persistent enough in getting him to open up, Toriel was his primary listening ear. The difference between the two was that when Grillby managed to convince Sans to air out his feelings, he gave as vague details as possible. He knew his friend only wanted to help; he would listen to his complaints without judging him and wouldn't spread what he heard around town, but there were just some things that occurred between him and Gaster that Sans didn't feel comfortable repeating.

Toriel, however, was a different case. She was easy to talk to, her gentle maternal aura unconsciously coaxing him into freely speaking what was on his mind on more occasions than he would have liked. She too wanted to offer her assistance in some way, even if all she could do was listen to his troubles, but he didn't want to bother her or anyone else with what he saw as trivial and petty matters. What went on between him and Gaster was solely their problem; not Grillby's, not Toriel's, not Undyne's, Alphys's, Muffet's, or even his brother's, San's believed. He and Gaster had gotten themselves into this current sad state of affairs themselves, and if their relationship was meant to be repaired at all, then that was something that could only be done by themselves.

Unfortunately, Toriel had become involved in the mess the two had created before it even truly began. When Gaster had taken him to the hospital that fateful day, it was her that treated Sans's wounds – she, his father, a few select staff at the hospital, and Sans himself were the only ones who presently bore knowledge of what his bare arms looked like. After the accident, he chose to conceal them from view to avoid any scrutinizing stares, even as the temperatures gradually began to climb. Not even Papyrus had seen the horrifying mess of burnt flesh that lied underneath the cloth.

He didn't want Papyrus to see that – Sans himself didn't want to see his arms whenever he was forced to take off his hoodie in order to apply medicine on the wounds, bathe, or change clothes.

"I didn't want to bring this topic up for discussion with Papyrus present. I know he means well, and please do not take offense for me saying this, but I feel as though he tries much too hard to force change."

Sans's sole reply was a low hum of acknowledgement; Toriel was right – he meant well, but Papyrus was rather pushy when it came to helping people with their problems, and Sans himself was no exception to this. Papyrus was a good listener, but he always wanted to help fix the problem after being informed – he was a person who wanted to see action being put towards the issue at hand with his own eyes and he expected immediate results.

His brother just wanted to help him in the only way he knew how. More so than anyone else, even Toriel with her infinite motherly doting. But Sans just couldn't let him see what he was trying so hard to hide from the eyes of the rest of the world, his physical and mental scars, even if it did mean eventually upsetting Papyrus.

Sans did everything he could for him, whether Papyrus was aware of it or not. Whether that meant anonymously slipping an extra twenty dollar bill into his wallet when he was a few bucks short of buying something he really wanted at the time or staying up until three in the morning listening to him prattle on for literal hours about his latest crush.

Sans would do almost anything for Papyrus. Nearly anything to preserve that smile that always brightened his day, no matter how terrible.

There was only one thing he could think of that he couldn't allow Papyrus.

He could pretend that everything between him and Gaster was fine, he could put on a fabricated smile and spoon feed him fake reassurances that things were getting better when they weren't, but the one thing Sans couldn't do for his brother was let him know just how broken up he really was, inside and out.

And while Toriel didn't approve of his evasive maneuvers against what she saw as procedures and methods that were supposed to be aiding him towards the process of healing mentally, she understood all too well why Sans would want to hide his serious personal affairs from Papyrus.

"One day you will have to let him in, Sans; let him know what's wrong and how you truly feel. You know that, don't you?"

"mmmnn…" His answer came in the form of an unenthusiastic and noncommital grunt.

"But I can't force the two of you to talk; it wouldn't be right, just as it isn't right for him to try to force you and Dr. Gaster to spend an extended duration of time with each other alone."

"i think maybe paps thinks that what's been going on between me and him can be solved with one talk and a hug, and then everything will go back to how it used to be."

"That's an unrealistic expectation. A familial dispute such as this could take months, perhaps even years to properly mend. And that's alright. Because healing of any kind takes time depending on the size and severity of the wound. Just like your own, Sans."

"…i lied to you earlier, tori." His voice had dropped to a whisper. "they still hurt. they still hurt a lot."

She took his hands in hers, giving them a squeeze. "I know you don't believe me when I tell you this, but it will get better." Her palms moved up to his lower arms, almost causing him to flinch from the contact. "The pain you're feeling right now will gradually fade."

He couldn't meet her eyes. "…but they won't ever go away, will they?"

This was a question that he had already asked Toriel before, one which he already knew the answer to since long before now.

But it didn't stop him from hoping, that just maybe it was possible that-

She frowned, fighting the sting of tears that threatened to form in her eyes as she gingerly traced over his sleeves. "No. Not in the manner that you wish them to. We… did the best that we could at the time, Sans. I'm so sorry we couldn't do more for you…"

"i know that. and i'm grateful for all you've done to make this bearable. it's just… one of those things that won't get any better, no matter how much time passes." He shrugged, trying to save face by acting unaffected. "maybe the same could be said about me and gaster."

"Maybe not and maybe so. But mutual effort is needed in order to bring about a change."

"i am trying, tori!" He suddenly snapped, taking a step back. "papyrus keeps telling me over and over, 'TRY THIS TIME' and i always do! but just about every single time we try to have what should be a short and civil conversation with each other, one of us ends up saying something to make the other fly off the handle! the both of us should just back off then, but no, it just gets worse and worse because neither of us will shut up! and what gets it all started in the first place is almost always something that's so stupid to get so heated up over when it's all said and done and we're thinking back on it later. and it's just getting worse and worse as the days pass by!" Sans suddenly slumped where he stood, his volume dropping to a defeated mutter. "sooner or later, we're going to stop coming to the realization that what we were even shouting at each other over was stupid to begin with. …why do we argue so much about things that are completely insignificant and have nothing to do with the actual problem? gaster's mad at me for getting kicked out of college and ruining my own life and i'm mad at him because… his crazy experiments got me hurt and he went right back to wanting me to work with him in the lab again like nothing happened after."

Toriel didn't say anything for a while. Sans had wandered over to her garden bench and sat down, his clenched hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair as he stared without emotion at the ground. He had completely shut down for the moment. It had been a while since he had done this, but she knew what to do. She found it was best to let him come back on his own terms, let him sort out the chaos in his head.

She would stand by and wait quietly until then.

He didn't stay like this for long. He never did. She had been counting down the minutes on her watch. Four minutes of silence from him when finally, he murmured,

"gaster loves his work more than he ever loved me. …i know he loves us, but he loves his work more. paps and i just can't compete with it anymore."

"What makes you believe that he loves his work more?"

"aside from the fact that he tried to get me back in the lab so soon after i'd been released from the hospital? i… started noticing things after i came home for good."

"What sort of things?" Toriel questioned cautiously.

While Sans had spoken of his continuous quarrels with Gaster whenever she could persuade him to talk, he had never once told her about anything pertaining to details he had picked up from the doctor following the origin of their disagreements. She was breaching new territory.

"back when i first started working with gaster, we spent a lot of time together. in and out of the lab. it was fun then, but at the time, i didn't really think about how papyrus felt about it. he never got good grades in the science classes in school, you know, but i did. i think me and alph got the highest scores out of everyone. but lately i've started to wonder if papyrus actually felt left out. because gaster was so focused on me, he didn't pay all that much attention to him anymore. …and i didn't either. not as much as i did before. when i stopped going to college and after we got into that fight, the really big one that kind of started all these smaller ones between us, he stopped talking to me too for a while. it was like i didn't even exist, like i was a ghost in my own house."

Toriel had to bite her tongue to keep from saying anything.

She truly did want for there to be eventually, one day in the future, a happy resolution to the Gaster family conflict. However, while she tried to remain neutral to both parties on the outside, on the inside, she leaned more towards favoring Sans's point of view on the things that went on in the household. She knew that the doctor loved both his sons and was trying just as much as Sans was to make things right, in his own misguided way, but Toriel couldn't stop herself from feeling a bit cross towards the doctor and placing the blame on him for this entire debacle.

Gaster was a man of logic and reason. Displaying and successfully evoking the more tender emotions residing in his heart came difficult to him. Sans could repeat to her every single word said by Gaster in each one of their arguments they had in these past few months and she would probably find herself capable of translating just what it was he had actually wanted to say to his son, but it wouldn't mean a thing if it came from her mouth and not his.

As much as she wanted to go off on Gaster herself on some instances after seeing Sans so miserable, Toriel knew the last thing she needed to do was encourage the two to emotionally stray further away from each other by widening the gap between them with her own biased opinions and personal feelings on the matter.

"Sans, you have nothing to feel guilty for, if that's what this is about." She rested a hand on his shoulder, sitting down next to him. "I know you well enough to believe that you truly have been putting in your best effort to make amends with Dr. Gaster. And sometimes simply that is enough."

"isn't there anything i can do to make it better though, tori? i'm so sick of fighting with him."

She thought for a few moments, then shook her head with a resigned sigh. "I'm afraid I don't, dear. I've never seen a case quite like yours and the doctor's… Asgore and I have had disagreements before, everyone does, but they never lasted long and we always grew closer afterward. During those unpleasant times, when our feelings of anger burned bright, we kept our distance from each other until we were ready to talk again. So perhaps what you are doing now is best."

"but what if he wants to talk and i'm not ready to?"

"Then tell him. Just say, 'I'm sorry, but I don't feel ready to talk yet'. If he continues to pursue the subject, then he is the one in the wrong at that point and you have right to feel upset. …I must say, I think you're handling this far more maturely than most would in your situation, Sans."

"you really think that?" He lifted his head to look up at her with wide eyes filled with disbelief.

"I wouldn't have said so if I thought differently." She let out a light chuckle, gently ruffling his hair. "You recognize when you've done wrong and feel remorseful, seeking to amend your past mistakes and readily admit to when you were wrong once the fire has died. Not many people are like that, instead choosing to stick fast to their hateful words that were said in a moment of anger out of pride. You even had the courage to walk away instead of staying to fight, even though some would unrightfully claim that doing so was cowardly. there is absolutely no shame to be found in walking away from an unpleasant situation."

"thanks tori, i… actually feel a little better now." His own words surprised him, his chest truly did feel a bit lighter than it did before. "but how did you know gaster and I got into it earlier?"

She bit her lip. "Because I received a text message from Asgore. Dr. Gaster appeared at town hall suddenly and the two have apparently been talking with each other ever since. Gorey told me from the sound of things, it seemed like the both of you had another argument."

"oh, that explains it then." He said after a beat, a sense of relief falling over him – he had thought someone in town passed by their house and somehow eavesdropped, then decided to gossip and it reached Toriel's ears.

"You know, they've known each other for years. They've been the best of friends since even before Asgore and I married. You of course weren't born at the time, but the doctor was Asgore's best man at our wedding and Asgore at his. Asgore still talks about their wedding, your father's and Miriam's."

"…gaster never told me about any of that stuff."

Sans and Papyrus didn't know anything about their mother. Gaster never spoke of her and she had died when both brothers were small, Papyrus being two years old and Sans five. Try as he might, Sans couldn't remember a thing about her. The only evidence of her ever existing were some old photos Sans had managed to smuggle out from under his father's nose, the ring she had once wore now stowed away in its box inside their house, and Sans's left eye.

Both brothers even existing was proof enough of their mother's existence; her hair color which they shared was the color of snow, but white hair existed in both their maternal and paternal family trees. Sans's left eye, that startling shade of light blue, came solely from her. There were times when Gaster wouldn't even look him in the face because of his heterochromia, and when Sans was furious, sometimes it was as if Miriam was haunting him from beyond the grave through her oldest son.

Sans took out his phone from his hoodie pocket. "i had better go see what it is that undyne wanted, just in case it really was something important. 'm sorry for suddenly blowing up on you like that, tori."

"It's alright, Sans. I know you didn't mean to and you're carrying a great amount of stress on your shoulders, but if it helped you to feel better by even the slightest amount, I would stand here and permit you to shout whatever was on your mind at me for as long as your voice would allow."

"you're too good for this sin-filled world, tori." He spoke after a pause, having raised his arms up about halfway, wanting to request a hug from her but too shy to ask despite the fact that this woman practically raised him and loved giving and receiving physical gestures of affection.

Thankfully, years of knowing him had made it easy for her to read his body language. She swiftly swept him into a comforting embrace and whispered,

"I know that this world is filled with unspeakable horrors, but I've found that life is also abundant with many indescribable blessings. Please, no matter how difficult life may become for you, never forget them."

Once again, she was right, he could admit to himself. He may have an emotionally distant father and an unattractive body, but he had been gifted a group of friends that actually cared for him and the best brother than anyone could ever ask for. If he remembered those things, the bad points of his day became more livable.

After she released him and he her, she slipped a small wad of cash into his pocket. "For the roof – you're helping to keep the household up now and the bills aren't getting any cheaper."

"thanks, tori. …for everything."

"Anytime, dear. Now run along and see what Undyne wants before she hunts you down. You wouldn't want that to happen, would you?"

Sans winced, remembering the last time he had dared to brush her off.

Piledrivers. Lots and lots of piledrivers.

He turned towards the direction Papyrus had taken off and his phone buzzed; Undyne had sent him her location. Good, it seemed as though he wasn't in hot water with her, otherwise she would have just ignored his text and hunted him down, as Toriel said.

She and Papyrus were down at the riverbed, but she gave no details about just what it was they were doing down there and why she had texted Papyrus saying there was an emergency.

Oh well. He supposed that he would find out when he got there.

~~~~~~~~~~

"SANS! Do you have ANY idea how late you are?!" Undyne barked as soon as he came into her line of view.

"i didn't know i was supposed to show up…?" He offered with a small shrug. "you sent the text to my bro, not me, so how was i supposed to know you wanted me here too? i just thought i should show up since paps said you told him it was an emergency."

"Oh, don't give me that crap!" She stomped over and jabbed a finger into his chest. "and it is an emergency! Haven't you heard the news?!"

"uh…?"

"The town police has been talking about it ALL week – the shadow monster sightings up in the mountains have been CRAZY lately! Chief of police said that if somebody could catch one and bring it back to the station, there'd be something good in it for them! Do you have ANY idea what that means, Sans?!"

"uh-"

"IT MEANS UNDYNE MIGHT FINALLY GET TO BE AN OFFICIAL MEMBER OF THE FORCE IF SHE CAN PULL IT OFF, WHICH I BELIEVE SHE CAN!" Papyrus answered for her, causing her to whip her head in his direction.

"PAPYRUS!" Undyne yelled, jumping over to him and grabbing him into a head lock. "Don't interrupt me when I was just about to tell him myself! …But thanks for the confidence – really appreciate it!"

"IF YOU APPRECIATE ME, YOU WOULD STOP NOOGIE-ING ME!" He nearly squealed, trying to break out of her hold.

She quickly released him and bounced back to Sans.

"I've called up Alphys and Muffet for help in planning this whole thing out. Alphys is gonna help me track one down and Muffet probably knows more about those things than everybody else in town put together! They're late too, but they're supposed to be here any minute now. The only reason why I haven't noogie-d you into the next dimension is because you happened to show up before they did, so consider yourself lucky, punk!"

"then, uh, what's mettaton here to do?"

"Mettaton? I didn't invite hi-" She noticed his gaze straying to over her shoulder and turned around, then exclaimed, "Oh HECK no!"

"Oh heck YES, darlings!" Mettaton retorted, stepping forward with Alphys and Muffet following behind.

"Why are you here?!"

"Well that certainly is a rude way to greet an old friend!" He huffed, sticking his nose into the air and crossing his arms. He cracked open one eye, "But since you're so curious, I was over at Alphys's house when you texted – she's helping Blooky and I with our band, you know. Audio equipment, technical stuff and such and all that jazz. When I heard that you wanted her, Sans, Papyrus, and even Muffet to come here, but not me, well… I simply wouldn't stand for it! …So here I am, in the flesh. Uninvited, but fashionably late, as per usual."

"…And just what is 'even Muffet' supposed to mean?" Muffet stared at him with narrowed eyelids, a sweet smile on her face but the danger that lied under her expression was evident to all. "I'm beginning to believe that I am unwelcome among this circle of friends. Perhaps I should just go and-"

"No, wait!" Undyne shouted, bowling over Mettaton to reach her. "Don't leave! He's the one that wasn't invited, not you! And I really need your help with this, Muffet."

"Alright, since my company means so much to you, I suppose I can stay for a while…" She giggled, her mood doing a complete one-eighty degree shift.

"Okay, now that everyone is here, plus the unexpected and unwanted addition of Mettaton-"

"Hey! What did I ever do to you?!"

"Let's get down to business." Undyne walked over to a tree stump by the water's edge and raised one foot to rest on it. "…So, how are we going to pull this off?"

"Y-You mean you called all of us here and you have no idea what you're doing?" Alphys asked, gobsmacked.

"Well DUH, if I had any idea on what I'm supposed to do, I wouldn't have bothered dragging you all to this spot." Undyne looked at them as if they were the ones wasting her time. "Mount Ebott is HUGE. Like… REDONKULOUSLY huge. Finding one of those shadow monsters would be like finding a needle in a haystack, if the haystack was the size of… I dunno, a whale or something? Anyway, I hate to admit this, I mean REALLY hate it, but I can't just go tearing up there looking for something that's lived there its whole life and knows the place better than I ever will and all the places it can hide. It's a mission bound for failure if I go up there unprepared – I gotta be smart about this. So, that's where all of you come in."

"…uh, undyne?"

"Yes, Sans? What is your question?"

"you do realize that you're talking about catching a creature that isn't supposed to exist, right? i didn't know you believed in them."

"I didn't until the guys at the station started talking about them! It STILL sounded completely bogus to me until all these supposed to be really credible eyewitnesses started showing up at the station and Gerson and the rest started passing around the pictures those people turned in. I saw 'em with my own two eyeballs and they looked real, not like those computer edited photos they show sometimes on the TV. I even heard they might be sending them to Dr. Gaster so he can test if they're fakes or not."

"gaster wouldn't bother doing something like that – he'd just look and say they were fakes without even paying attention to what's on 'em."

"He will if these reports get to be a big enough thing around the town!" Undyne shot back with a maniacal grin. "If the doctor gives the word that they're the real deal, then the hunt is on. And I'm not talking about myself – there'll be people from all over the country flocking here to the mountain. I've got to do this now before that happens and this great little window of opportunity that's opened up just for me is suddenly slammed shut in my face. …SO HELP A GAL OUT, WOULD'JYA?!"

She received mixed levels of enthusiasm from the replies of the small group she had gathered, but their hesitation was apparently enough of an answer for her – and the answer she had picked up from them was yes.

Sans sighed to himself,

"this is going to be just like the time she tried capturing santa claus when we were kids…"

"Poor Mr. Dreemur… He never saw the net coming." Alphys added solemnly.

"Alright, so listen up you pack of weenies! But not you though, Alphys. You're a peach and we're all glad that you're here." Undyne couldn't stop from showing her favoritism among present company. "So, back to what I was saying before Mr. Negative Nancy threw me off track – how are we gonna do this?"

Everyone was silent for a while.

"howz about we all go to lunch to think it over and talk about this again sometime after?"

"It's almost evening, you lazy clod!"

"Undyne, dearie, you're going about this all wrong." Muffet's smooth voice interjected.

"How so?" Undyne turned to her and crossed her arms impatiently.

"If you really wish to find a wraith, then you need to know exactly what it is you're walking into. They're clever beings, Undyne. They're adept masters at hiding and keeping their presence hidden from the world. It won't be like capturing a pesky possum eating your pet cat's food or a raccoon rummaging through your garbage and strewing it everywhere each night. This outbreak of sightings is merely a game of peek-a-boo to them, most likely. If you go up there looking to capture one of them, all that awaits you is disappointment."

"You're a fine one to talk, Muffet! You go up in those mountains several times a week looking for 'em and you've been doing it practically since you learned to walk!"

"Yes, dearie, all of what you just said is true. However, my goal isn't to apprehend one like a common criminal." Muffet's smile turned eerie. "The wraiths are simply impossible to catch, that's what I've come to believe. If you do encounter one and attempt to take one into custody, your face may just get ripped off for trying. You've heard the more… malevolent tales concerning them, haven't you?"

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Undyne scoffed. "So the wraiths can kill me. So could another human. So could a dog. So could a very dedicated duck!"

Papyrus nodded readily at her last point.

"The wraiths aren't that special in that department. What DOES make them special to me is that they're gonna help me finally secure a place in the police force!"

Undyne had known since before she ever entered kindergarten that she wanted to be a police officer when she grew up. She wanted to take down bad guys and arrest them, punish them and keep them away from the rest of society for the good people's sake and peace of mind. But when she graduated high school and tried to apply for a position she was immediately rejected. Apparently her frequent brawls with the local youth and her firey personality had branded Undyne as a troublemaker in the eyes of the force, everybody except Gerson.

He sympathized with her, so he talked with the rest of his coworkers and after much debate, they finally gave her a job – sort of. She was relegated to the position of 'mountain patrol', a fake position given to her out of pity where she circled the road that stretched around the base of Mount Ebott to search for anyone that may be breaking the law. She had received her own uniform and a walkie talkie like the others, but it was obvious that she wasn't considered one of them by the rest of the officers.

Undyne had done her job with as much passion as she could muster at first, thinking that if they saw her hard at work then a promotion might be on her horizon in the future. She had caught several individuals before that had tried to make the mountain their own personal dumpster through illegal dumping. She had apprehended one man who had committed several robberies and hid his stolen goods somewhere in that area. She had even prevented a very drunk man from kidnapping a woman who had been walking by herself that night and witnessed him trying to drag her up onto the mountain to do heaven knows what with her.

And despite all that, everyone on the force with the exception of Gerson still looked down on her.

That's why Undyne felt she had to prove herself to them by doing the impossible: capturing one of the elusive wraiths that roamed the mountain territories.

"Muffet does actually have a point, kind of." Alphys timidly spoke, causing the attention to be drawn to her. "Monsters or no monsters, it's still i-incredibly dangerous up there! Like you said, Mount Ebott is enormous, and how many times have you actually gone up there?"

Undyne looked down at her hand and began counting on her fingers. "…None."

"See? S-So maybe before you go up there, maybe it would be better to… become more familiar with the geography? Muffet, does the library have a map of the mountain?"

"I've got something better than the library…" Undyne whipped her head around, tossed a piece of blank paper then a pencil and pointed with a shout, "Sans! Draw me a map of Mount Ebott!"

He looked at the sheet and pencil resting at his feet and back at her with an owlish gaze.

"are you insane? i can't draw a map of the entire mountain!"

"I thought that Papyrus said you and him have been up there a lot in the past few months!"

"yeah, we have, but not enough that we've memorized everything up there! i've been up there more than paps and I haven't even made it one third of the way to the top! if mount ebott was an english mastiff, then we're the equivalent of a bunch of fleas jumping on its back! i don't think there's a person that's ever lived in this town or anywhere on earth that knows everything there is to know about that place and its geography. there is no complete map of ebott because i've looked. this whole idea of your is dangerous and crazy, undyne."

He was expecting her to blow up, but instead she inhaled through her nose and placed her forehead against her palm.

"You don't think I know that? But this may be the best chance I'll ever have of getting some respect from the force."

"Is getting respect from people that never believed in you worth possibly losing your life?"

Surprisingly, it was Mettaton that had asked her this question, and he for once looked serious.

"Undyne, if you truly want to hunt down one of those monsters, then I support your ambitions entirely, but you're still heading into something risky. You haven't planned this at all, you just assembled the team and hoped we'd have what you wanted to hear. And as for earning respect? Who needs it! Everyone told me I was making a mistake when I changed my name and formed my band, and they still do, but I'm happier now than I ever was before. I'm sure that fame will come our way any day now, but we're preparing ourselves for it every day. You, however, despite having told us that you wanted to play it smart, were planning on tearing off up there immediately after this little meeting of your is adjourned, correct?"

Undyne wouldn't look at him, but she gave a short nod.

"That's what I thought. I know this feels like a race against time to secure a place where you are comfortable belonging, but you need patience if you truly want to pull this off. Do some research, look at some maps, even if they are incomplete because some knowledge is better than none, and then you can go into the mountains with nets and fists ablaze to bag yourself a shadow monster!"

"…Wow, Mettaton." Alphys stared at him with wide eyes. "T-That's the most wise I think I've ever heard you speak! Usually you're encouraging us to make bad decisions for the sake of drama."

"You're right. He is acting strangely out of character…" Undyne pondered aloud, then shouted, "You're not Mettaton at all! You're actually one of the wraiths, aren't you?!"

Everyone knew she was joking, but the sudden increase in volume of her voice still made Mettaton jump. Before he could respond to her accusation, Undyne grabbed him around the ankle and swung him over her shoulder.

"Undyne, put me down this instant!"

"Nuh uh, you're coming down to the station with me. You're under arrest."

Everyone started laughing and snickering at his vain attempts to release himself from her hold, Alphys and Muffet having taken out their phones to record the scene.

"Undyne, please! If you're going to insist on carrying me, at least make it a princess carry! I deserve that much!" He loudly whined.

"Now that sounds like something Mettaton would actually say…" Undyne halted her steps, pretending to be in deep thought. "Huh, maybe the wraith hasn't completely taken over yet…"

"well, you know what the legends say to do, right?" Sans grinned, walking towards the two at a leisurely pace. "when the wraith's taken over, you burn it. when there's still hope left for the poor victim, you drown it out."

"…Don't. You. Dare." Mettaton hissed.

"Grab his legs, Sans."

"you got it, boss."

Together, the two heaved the frantically wiggling Mettaton closer to the slowly moving water. He began to screech when they started swinging him back and forth.

"SHOULD WE DO SOMETHING…?" Papyrus questioned the two girls, feeling as though he should perhaps say something.

"No, dear. This is just a… how you say, a jape." Muffet giggled.

"I'm not saying anything because this should be enough payback for him erasing my downloaded Mew Mew Kissy Cutie episodes on that disc I left laying out just so he could use it."

Papyrus didn't think Alphys was the type to partake in petty revenge, but the more you know, he thought.

"Sans! Undyne! Stop this madness immediately! My fabulous hairstyle will be ruined! And my makeup will run!"

"One…! Two…! Three…!" "one…! two…! three…!"

At the count of three, they both tossed him into the river, screeching and yowling like a cat when the cool water hit his body. Undyne and Sans both gave a whoop and cheered, laughing as they bumped fists before it turned into an elaborate and handsy handshake that ended in the two playfully wrestling each other on the ground.

"PILE DRIVER!"

"ow, undyne!"

"HEADLOCK!"

"nooooo! c'mon 'dyne, is this any way to treat your partner in crime?"

"Sorry, Sans, but war takes no prisoners. You already know what's next. NOOGIE NOOGIE NOOGIE NOOGIE!"

"agh! your knuckles are sharp!"

Mettaton spluttered and was thrashing in the water, trying to flounder towards shore but failing miserably.

"Come on, Mettaton, stop being so dramatic." Undyne rolled her eyes, her arm still wrapped around Sans's neck. "You're not drowning, the water only comes up to your collarbones if you're standing up."

He immediately ceased his splashing and did as she instructed, standing on his own feet to find that what she said was correct.

"…So it seems." Was all that he said, his voice small and clearly embarrassed.

"c'mon. i'll help ya out." Sans crouched down and offered his hand.

Mettaton smiled to himself, reaching over to clasp his outstretched palm. But before he could pull Sans into the water, Sans grabbed him and flung him over his shoulder then onto the grass on his back.

"…I dislike you with great intensity." He narrowed his eyes at Sans.

"i give you points for trying though, pal."

"Okay, so I will hand it to Mettaton that he's made a good point. I don't need to rush into this blindly and risk ending up a future episode of 'Missing'." Undyne began.

"And you had to throw my poor self into the water to admit that?" He sniffed, wringing out his soaking wet hair.

"Yes. It was entirely necessary, Mettaton. To banish the wraith from your body." She nodded sagely. "Anyway, I've decided that what I'm going to do is, I'm gonna find all the maps that I can of Ebott and, ugh, study them, bleh. And Muffet, if you could lend me some of your books, I'd really appreciate it."

To no one's surprise, she retrieved a large and thick book with an ominous featureless figure on the cover out of her little black spider plushie purse that she always carried (how did she even fit it in there?) and handed it to Undyne.

"You're wasting your time, dearie."

"You'll be saying that when I've caught what you've been looking for for literal years in just a matter of days." Undyne shot back good naturedly.

"Undyne! Patience? Future episode of 'Missing'? Remember?!" Mettaton piped up again – despite being completely drenched by the two, he still cared very much about her.

"I got it, I got it. But once I'm done doing the boring part, I'm not leaving a single stone uncovered until I find a wraith! Thank you all for coming here today, but I've gotta get started! Later, dorks!"

Undyne then sped off in the direction of the town's library, or librarby, as the mispelled sign out in front stated, without another word of goodbye.

"She calls us all here suddenly and she's gone just as quickly." Mettaton remarked with a defeated sigh. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to blow dry my hair now."

"you aren't mad at us, are you?"

"…No. I'm not. It was all in good fun, after all." He then smirked. "But I'll be getting you both back for it in the future, darling. Just you wait and see."

"bring it on, matt."

"I'm afraid I have no clue who you're speaking of." He all but sang, turning around and giving everyone else a wave goodbye. "Ta-tah, darlings."

"WHAT ABOUT YOU, ALPHYS?" Papyrus asked, "HOW WILL YOU BE SPENDING YOUR EVENING?"

"I-I think I'll catch up with Undyne. If she really does want to do this, then I think I should help however I can and k-keep an eye on her so she doesn't do anything s-sudden or rash, like Mettaton said."

"OKAY! HAVE FUN!"

Once Alphys had left, it was just Sans and Papyrus with Muffet.

"i hope you aren't expecting that book to be in one piece when you get it back." Sans told her. "i dunno if you noticed, but she can be kind of rough handling things."

"Oh, that's perfectly alright, dearie. If she damages my book, I'm certain that she can reimburse me to purchase another copy."

Both brothers looked at each other with a worried frown – that book had not looked cheap.

"It's a lovely evening, isn't it, boys?" She gestured to skies above that were beginning to be tinted with orange. "A perfect evening for a mountain walk, wouldn't you agree?"

"is that what you're gonna do?"

"I'm afraid not. Mummy needs me to make a birthday cake for a customer that's coming by to pick it up tomorrow. But maybe I'll see you on the mountain trail sometime. Ciao."

"WELL, SANS, EVERYONE ELSE IS GONE WITH THE NIGHT VASTLY APPROACHING! WE SHOULD PROBABLY BOTH HEAD HOME NOW AND-"

"actually, i think i'll go do what muffet suggested and take a walk." He quickly replied, not wanting to see Gaster just yet.

"WELL, ALRIGHT…" Papyrus looked like someone had told him his dog died. "JUST DON'T STAY OUT TOO LATE, ALRIGHT? AND KEEP YOUR CELL PHONE ON YOU AT ALL TIMES! IF THE BATTERY IS RUNNING LOW, THEN COME HOME IMMEDIATELY!"

"will do. i'll see ya later, paps."

He started walking in the direction of the mountain, its magnificent shadow stretching over him and the rest of the town.

Wraiths.

He still wasn't convinced they exist.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Hello, dearie."

Sans nearly jumped out of his skin. He had said so earlier that Muffet should have been a cryptozoologist, but he also believed that she would make an excellent assassin with how she could quietly creep up on unsuspecting people.

"muffet! i thought you left."

"I did. And now I'm back, but only momentarily."

They were standing at the base of Mount Ebott directly in front of one of the dirt roads that led into the mountain.

"so, uh, what brings you here?"

"I wanted to show you something interesting." She smiled in a way that made him feel somewhat uncomfortable.

She moved towards a thick group of bushes and motioned for him to follow.

"…you're not going to show me a dead body, are you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, dearie. I said something interesting, did I not?"

She then moved aside the shrubbery to reveal a small statue that he had never seen before. It looked almost like a vase, hourglass shaped, and it seemed ancient, probably hundreds of years old.

"Now look inside it."

He did as instructed and found a large stone inside, colored red, yellow and orange, and was carved in the shape of the sun. It was resting on a pedestal of some sort and large silver prongs held the stone firmly in place to ensure it wasn't easily removed.

"I bet you had no idea this was here, did you?"

"no, i didn't. …so what is it?"

"This monument was constructed by the people of Ebott Village many centuries ago. There are more of them spread out at the base of the mountain. They were made to keep the villagers safe here, and the wraiths confined up there."

"how are these things supposed to keep them up there?"

"That stone inside the totem is a sunstone. According to gemology it's believed that they can harness the power of the sun. The combined power of these stones create a ring of protection that wards off the shadow monsters; think of it as being almost like an electric fence."

"i'd never heard that before." He rubbed his chin, leaning closer to the statue. "i can't remember ever seeing one of these things before, and they're all over the town?"

"Just around the base, but yes."

"i wonder why i never noticed them."

"They've become well hidden throughout the years. The legends began to fade out, nature's madness took over, and they were gradually forgotten. I suppose if they were well known, some might try to steal the sunstones inside. Of course, according to the old documents on them I acquired, they say misfortune falls on those that would attempt to take the stones."

Sans wasn't superstitious in the slightest, but he couldn't help but think aloud. "something still doesn't make sense, though – the myths say that wraiths would steal the bodies of humans to impersonate them. if the statues make some kind of invisible magic ring that they can't cross, why go to the trouble of stealing a body if they're stuck on the mountain?"

"Oh, Sans. Don't you see? That's precisely why they would need the body of a human." At his perplexed expression, she continued with a wry smile. "The bodies of a wraith, made of shadows, would incinerate if they made contact with the sunstone ring. So, they capture a human that wandered into their territory, hollow out the body, then liquify their own body and crawl inside so they can safely bypass the ring."

Sans felt his stomach churn at the graphic mental images she had instilled in his brain. "that's disgusting, muffet."

"Heehee! You should see your face – so sour right now." She giggled. "Well, I just thought I'd share that with you. Have fun up there, oh, and don't get eaten!"

"you're full of it, muffet!" He called out to her as she began walking away with that light girlish chuckle of hers.

"Is that any way to talk to your amicable ex-girlfriend?" She laughed.

"you're not my ex-girlfriend! it was one date, that gaster set up, and we both agreed it wasn't a real date because neither of us agreed to it."

Even though they had left the 'date' as better friends than before and Sans didn't hold any romantic feelings for her then or presently, Muffet had told him at the time that he wasn't her type. He understood entirely, she wasn't obligated to feel that way towards him even though the two did get along swimmingly when she wasn't being morbid. But he couldn't help but wonder if his looks had anything to do with her decision.

"You know I'm just teasing you, dearie. No need to get so hot under the collar. And speaking of hot, aren't you steaming by now in that hoodie?"

"a little, but it's nothing i can't handle." He didn't mind Muffet asking about his hoodie – she wouldn't look down on him for wearing it out of season because she too had a peculiar fashion sense.

"Suit yourself, dearie. Bye-bye~"

After Muffet had left, for real this time, he began his ascension up the mountain trail. The mountain didn't have any roads built on it, just traversable paths created by nature. As far as he knew, nobody lived anywhere up there despite how expansive it was. It had remained the same for centuries, devoid of modern civilization and a sanctuary for Ebott's wildlife.

The dirt roads only stretched so far before grass overtook them. From that point onward was where the mountain began looking like several different worlds had been melded together. Sans had only seen a handful of the mysterious sights Mount Ebott had to offer, but what he had seen made it sometimes worth the hike up there: a lake with waterfalls in sizes both great and small, a field of flowers that stretched on and on with no end in sight, thick forests that were so dark it was almost impossible to see your own hand in front of your face…

And that was just what he had seen with his own eyes one-third of the way up the mountain. He hadn't explored the sides of the mountain or the areas higher up, like the snowcapped top or the caves rich with odd stones and minerals. He supposed he could spend every day on this mountain for the rest of his life and still not know everything about the place. Perhaps if he continued visiting and going a little further each time, he would be the first to create a complete map of Ebott.

Sans didn't come here to chase shadows or cause trouble for the environment like most did when they passed by - he came here because it was quiet, save for the songs of birds and the wailing of the cicadas. Being surrounded by the peaceful scenery and focused on the thrill of the climb took his mind off of the problems he had left behind at home.

When he was younger, he had wanted to explore the mountain with his group of friends. They were labelled far too young for such a dangerous activity, and were consequently restricted to playing near the river bed and the small wooded areas spread around town; everyone pretended they were at Mount Ebott, but now he was living out his childhood self's dreams of adventure here in the present.

Even so, he missed those days dearly.

His younger self never imagined that everything in his life would have turned out the way it did. When he was younger, he thought his body looked the way it did because of baby fat and he would eventually grow out of it after he reached puberty. Instead, he only grew more bulky. When he was younger, he thought that he and his father would be working together as equals to revitalize the town that was considered dead-end by not only outsiders, but its own citizens. Instead, he was injured by one of his father's own creations and ruined his one chance to get an education from a prestigious academy thus estranging himself from his father, and the townspeople still wanted to leave and would complain whenever they did and came back.

Sans hadn't been in a rush to grow up when he was a child, but he thought that it would have been more fun than what it turned out to be.

He was the one out of the group that was supposed to soar above them all in terms of success, and he had sunken below them all.

Papyrus was doing the exact same thing he was doing; completing odd jobs around town, but he was only doing that to gain experience and had plenty of drive. Undyne was bettering herself every day and was aiming for a higher position in Ebott's police force even if her methods of attempting to do so were insane in his eyes. Alphys had more or less taken his place as Gaster's first hand assistant in the lab after he quit having anything to do with science – he didn't hold it against Alphys at all even though she apologized constantly for it even in the present, he was the one that chose to quit. Even Mettaton had a better future planned for himself than him; yes, he was a bit in over his head with his dream of instantly achieving fame and becoming a star, but Sans had to admit that he was creative and talented in some aspects. He might not achieve prime stardom like he wanted, but Sans wouldn't be surprised if he did aquire a little slice of recognition in the future.

Everyone else seemed to know exactly what it was they were doing with their lives.

He didn't have a clue anymore.

There existed legends of people that climbed the mountain only to disappear without a trace. Paranormal explanations or not, there still existed records of persons that were last seen heading towards the mountain then never heard from again. That was many years ago though, and nobody has been reported missing in this town in over a hundred years.

But, if he were to disappear, Sans wondered, would he be missed…?

He rapidly shook his head, immediately banishing the intrusive thought. Of course he would be missed; Toriel would grieve for him if something ever happened to cut his life short, his friends would mourn, and Papyrus… Papyrus would never be the same without him. If Sans died, he would be taking a piece of his brother with him.

He didn't know why such a thought would enter his head in the first place; even though his life had been turned on its head, he had a great group of friends and he appreciated being alive.

But he still could have lived without the permanent marks on his arms. They were throbbing painfully under his sleeves, and he hadn't brought any medicine with him to ease the sensation.

Sans could hear the sound of running water up ahead after a while longer of walking. He came to a clearing where the river was and looked both left and right to see if it was safe to shed his hoodie. He wasn't sure what he was looking for; all that was here in this area were birds, and they couldn't blab his secret to the town.

He slid his arms out of the sleeves, crouched down by the rocky mountain riverbed and dipped them into the clean cool water. It soothed the angry enflamed marks on his skin, but only a little. Not even the balms and creams Toriel prescribed to him completely eased the pain.

He had been in near constant pain since the accident, and he wondered if that was how he would be spending the rest of his life despite Toriel's reassurances.

Sans had allowed himself to relax for a few minutes, listening to the wind blow through the nearby tree branches as he tended to his wounds. Every muscle, every joint in his body locked up when he heard the bushes on the other side of the river rustle.

It didn't sound like a small creature made the noise. He hurriedly yanked his arms from the water and threw on his hoodie before scrambling for the thickets on his own side of the river. If he left now, he would be creating too much noise, so he would wait it out until whatever it was left.

The creature's footsteps sounded too light to be a bear but too heavy for a raccoon or possum. He waited, concealing himself in the shrubbery until only his eyes were peeking out between the leaves. The sounds gradually grew closer as the seconds ticked by, buy Sans felt like he had been waiting for the noisemaker to show itself for hours.

Finally, it stepped out of the forest, and he was surprised to find himself looking at a girl.

At least, she appeared to be a girl. And she was wearing incredibly bizarre clothing; a large floppy pointed hat and a long sleeved robe that stretched down to her feet. Her hair was unusually long as well, reaching past her waist. But the most unusual thing about this girl was her skin – it was dark. Beyond dark. Blacker than black.

And her eyes. As she came closer towards the river bed, even at this distance, he could see them clearly, constrasting with the blackness of her face. They were two pretty gray blue spheres, glowing and the color of celestite.

He had one blue eye as well, but he liked the shade of hers more. They held a mysterious quality to them that he felt his didn't.

Oh, but it was obvious to him that she was wearing contacts and this wasn't her real eye color. People's eyes didn't glow like that. People didn't dress like that normally either, so she must be wearing a costume. But what would she be doing way out here in the mountain wilderness wearing what looked like a wraith costume? Was it some sort of prank?

Everything made sense now – those photos Undyne saw must have been of this girl. People were beginning to believe that she was a real monster. Sans was all for playing good harmless pranks, but this one was dangerous. Someone might see her like that and a very gun happy person might mistake her for something otherworldly and shoot her, he thought.

He had planned on leaving when she did, but he felt the need to warn her.

Sans was about to step out from the bushes but froze when she suddenly slowly raised her arms into the air and her chest began to glow with a white light.

She began singing in a strange tongue unfamiliar to him,

amita ibiria amore

amita sibidia samora

mia sari mi ia…

Her voice was deeper than he would have expected and melancholy, almost mournful in tone. It pulled at his heart in a strange way he couldn't quite describe. Calming, yet sorrowful all the same. But he didn't have long to dwell on her song itself before he had something entirely different to focus on.

The flowing water in the river abruptly stirred, unnatural ripples beginning to form on the surface. From one side of the riverbank to the other, large stones from the river's bottom rose up to create a sturdy pathway, stable enough for one to walk across without fear of it crumbling and whoever was on top falling in.

The girl lifted her robe slightly and placed one foot, covered in what looked like a sandal ethnic in design onto the makeshift bridge. Satisfied that it was secure, she stepped onto the rocks and began slowly making her way across. As she did, the stones that had meshed together became undone and sunk back down to the watery depths behind her as she again sang in that undecipherable language,

amita ibiria amore

sia a sibiria samora

mia sari…

When she reached the other side of the riverbank safely, whatever was left of the pathway had crumbled away by the time her singing ceased. Sans was stunned and in disbelief – despite his earlier skepticism, he couldn't deny what he had seen was magic. Magic fueled by the power of this strange girl's voice.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, this girl was a wraith.

"muffet would probably kill a man in cold blood to be in my place right now."

But then a realization hit him that made his heart drop down to his stomach:

This girl was a wraith.

A shadow monster.

A creature of legend.

And in those legends, the wraiths murdered people to snatch their bodies.

If she saw him, would she try to end his life? At this thought, his heart began pounding with fear when moments before it had been from wonder.

He needed to get away without being noticed, but how?

Sans didn't get to think of an effective strategy before he was spotted. The wraith was standing no less than three feet away from where he was crouched, staring down at him with slightly widened half lidded eyes that Sans couldn't decide whether it made her appear adorably sleepy or incredibly seductive.

Either way, she was standing over him and he had very little time to think of a way to escape her shadowy clutches before she pounced him.

He quickly rose to his feet, but before he could move another inch the wraith let out a tiny squeak and scrambled backwards with widened eyes and a heaving chest. That was a curious response, he thought.

Common sense told him that now would be an opportune moment to run, but curiosity told him that he should test this. Curse the scientist that was still within him.

Instead of fleeing, he took a step towards her and guaged her reaction. The monster girl let out another distressed cry and scurried away from him until her heels were one inch from her being in the river – one more step, even a little one, and she would fall in.

Oh the irony.

She was afraid of him.

Well that simply wouldn't do.

For reasons he couldn't quite begin to ponder, the idea of a girl, even a monster girl, being afraid of him didn't sit well with Sans.

He smiled at her in a manner that he hoped appeared friendly and inviting.

"hey," She flinched at the sound of his voice, but he continued. "it's alright. no need to feel scared. 'm not gonna hurt ya, see?"

He held out his hand towards her, but it didn't appear she had listened to or understood a word he was saying because she let out a small scream and stumbled backwards, nearly falling headfirst into the river.

And she would have, if he hadn't rushed forward to catch her.

Everything around them stilled. It seemed as though even the birds in the trees and the water below them had hushed to gawk at the sheer novelty of the situation they were in. She was bent backwards, feet barely on the ground and he was holding her with one hand around her shoulders and the other wound around her lower back. And they were looking each other directly in the eye.

She was so tiny compared to him.

It was just like a scene from one of Alphys's cheesy shoujo mangas, he would acknowledge later, but while in the moment, he was rendered speechless from the suddenness of the occurrence. Her skin was cold, he noticed, the closest comparison he could think of being as if she had been sitting in front of a powerful air conditioner for several hours.

Both remained motionless for an undisclosed amount of time until the wraith started trembling in his arms, wiggling to get out of his grip.

"stop it. if i let you go now you'll tumble right in. i don't think you went to the trouble to make a bridge before just to get wet, did you?"

But she only squirmed harder, and he almost dropped her a few times during this short duration. When she showed no sign of complying to his reasonable request for her sake, he yanked her closer to him and tried to step away from the river with her.

The river was different up here compared to in town; the water moved faster and if she fell in and didn't know how to swim, she could easily drown. That is, if she needed to breathe in order to live. But Sans wasn't about to take any chances and just assumed that she needed to.

Their chests were now pressed up against each other. The thrum of her chest didn't match his – it didn't sound anything like a human's heart beat should, and though he was entirely unfamiliar with this creature's biology, he could tell that it was thrumming faster than it normally would.

Thump… thump… thump…

But it was still far too slow for any healthy human's heartbeat to sound. If he didn't believe that she was something paranormal before, he would have now.

Her fingers dug painfully into his shoulders, small hands shoving at his chest and clawing at his wrists to get him to release her, and several shaky sounds escaped from her throat all the while, noises that he assumed must have been unsuccessful attempts at using her voice-based magic. Only when they were both at a safe distance from the water did he release her.

She instantly sprang away from him, turning her back to Sans and fleeing into the thick expanse of trees, blending into the shadows of the forest around her perfectly and rendering her invisible.

Sans lingered around the area just long enough to regain his breath, but he had seen enough for one day – it was time to go home.

By the time he reached his house, Papyrus had finished making dinner but Gaster still wasn't home yet, which was fine for Sans, but his brother despaired over another portion of his cooking going to waste if their father didn't return that night. Sometimes, as Sans occasionally stayed at Grillby's home until things blowed over, so did Gaster, but with Asgore at the Dreemur residence.

A few hours later, it was made clear that tonight was going to be one of those nights, so in order to spare Papyrus's feelings over his culinary creation going unconsumed, Sans ate Gaster's share. Which would only add a few more pounds to his already plump figure, he lamented.

He didn't tell Papyrus about his encounter on the mountain before heading upstairs to his room. Would his brother even believe him? He could barely believe it himself, and it had happened to him! And he couldn't stop thinking about it either. Usually, most people did one of two things when encountering the unknown; tell everyone they knew and didn't know about it, or they kept it to themselves for the rest of their lives. He wasn't sure if he could do either.

After a while of trying to distract his mind by watching television, playing a game, or reading, he finally gave up. He couldn't keep his thoughts from drifting to the wraith he had seen, spoken to, and even touched.

He sat at his desk and pulled out a sketchbook; it had once been filled with formulas and sketches for inventions when he was Gaster's apprentice, but he had since torn those out and filled the empty book with random drawings and doodles. He opened the book and stopping at a blank page, then began sketching the best he could from his memory.

Sans didn't know how long he had spent there, but it was pitch black outside by the time he finished. It wasn't perfect by any means, but it was something that he could remember this day by. He had a feeling though that he would never forget what happened today, even if he tried from this point onward to forget.

And he was right; he never did forget this day.

Because today was the beginning of an entirely new world being opened for Sans and his brother.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sans awoke to what sounded like Gaster clambering around downstairs below his room. So he had come home at some point. He rolled over to face his clock and saw that it was eleven thirty. Not surprising, since he had stayed up late last night. Dear old dad wouldn't be happy with him that he slept the morning away once again, but in his defense, as he said yesterday, Grillby would still be serving from his breakfast menu right now.

He took a shower then cautiously made his way to the kitchen. To his surprise, Gaster and Papyrus were actually eating at the table. Both of them looked up from their meals to stare at him, and he felt out of place for not the first time in this household since the accident.

Sans briefly wondered if his brother and Gaster would get along just fine if he weren't around.

But then again, Gaster might shift his scientific prodigy-making plan onto his brother or Alphys if he didn't keep watch over him. It seemed he would have to continue being a nuisance for their safety and wellbeing.

He pulled up a chair and sat down without a word.

"You're late. As per usual."

"if i'm late then so are you. you're eating breakfast too."

Gaster didn't appreciate that at all, glowering at him from across the table. Papyrus quickly looked for a topic to lighten the mood.

"D-DID I MENTION THAT UNDYNE HAS BEEN WORKING HARD FOR A PROMOTION LATELY?!" He all but squawked.

"Is that so…?" Their father quirked an eyebrow at his youngest son's squirrely behavior then took a nonchalant sip of his coffee. "Ah, speaking of recent news, have either of you heard about what's been happening on Mount Ebott lately?"

"…" Neither said a word.

Gaster continued anyway regardless. "The people of this town are saying that they're catching glimpses of monsters in the mountain's wilderness. Can you imagine such a thing? What utter nonsense.

"yup. utter nonsense." Sans nearly choked on his mouthful of pancake.

"Some are even planning on hiking up the mountain to seek them out. I've never heard such insanity in all my life. Now listen, the both of you: I don't want either of you going up that mountain, mythical beasts or not. I can't have the people of Ebott thinking you're caught up in the frenzy of hunting for them too. And even if they did exist, which they most certainly do not, I wouldn't want you interacting with such creatures."

"uh-huh. i gotcha."

"If these people have time to be chasing shadows, then they have plenty to spare on actually putting effort into revitalizing the town instead of always complaining about what we don't have."

"yup, what a complete waste of valuable time…"

"You have little room to speak, Sans. You lollygag about just as much as the rest of the townspeople these days."

"tell that to the stack of cash i earned this week working my butt off around town." He rebutted, stabbing his fork into the sausage on his plate.

"Yes, you really raked it in this week, you think. If you were living on your own, that amount wouldn't keep you afloat in the slightest."

"well, from the sound of your tone, it sounds like you really want me to leave and never come back. maybe i should."

Sans had tried moving out directly after he had gotten expelled, but he wouldn't leave without his brother and Papyrus remained firm on staying. Papyrus had created a stalemate; he couldn't leave until things either got better between him and Gaster, or Sans decided to go without his brother. Sans didn't see either happening anytime soon.

"Was that supposed to be a threat? If so, it was entirely ineffective."

"PLEASE, DON'T FIGHT YOU TWO. CAN'T WE HAVE A NICE BREAKFAST TOGETHER LIKE WE USED TO?"

"No, Papyrus, I don't think that's possible anymore. Your brother, despite being the older of the two of you, can't seem to be a mature adult for longer than two minutes and keep his temper in check."

Sans wanted so badly to retaliate, but he held his tongue once again. He stood up from his seat, the chair scraping against the hardwood floor as he did so. His meal was left unfinished, he mentally noted, but he had lost his appetite anyway.

Just as yesterday, he made his way towards the front door.

"And just where do you think you're going? I haven't finished speaking!"

He remembered what Toriel had told him to say.

"i'm sorry, but i don't feel ready to talk yet."

He reached for the doorknob and Gaster rose up from his own seat. He swiftly paced over to Sans, and in his haste in preventing him from leaving, roughly grabbed his arm.

Sans screamed.

His yowl of pure pain snapped Gaster out of his anger, but it was too late – the damage had been done. His son spun around to look at him, large mismatched eyes moist and filled with confusion and betrayal, then mistrust and anger.

"I-I'm so sorry! I… I didn't mean to, Sans! You have to believe me, I would never-" But he had. "…Let me see it."

Sans instinctively wrenched himself away from him, cradling his arm.

"SANS, PLEASE DON'T GO! FATHER SHOULDN'T HAVE GRABBED YOU SO SUDDENLY, BUT IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! HE DIDN'T MEAN TO HURT YOU!"

Accident.

Accident. Accident. Accident.

Everything was always an accident when he and Gaster were involved. Their entire relationship now had been reduced to one long continuous stream of accidents.

And he just couldn't take it anymore.

Sans turned his back on him and ran out the door as fast as his ligs would carry him, hearing Gaster and Papyrus yell for him behind, but he didn't dare stop or even slow down. He wasn't even sure where he was going, anywhere that wasn't back there.

He found himself going exactly where his father had told him not to go just minutes earlier: Mount Ebott. He wondered if his body was subconsciously spiting Gaster now. He continued running until his legs nearly gave out, stopping at another clearing – a picturesque woodland area.

He sat himself down on a conveniently placed large boulder nearby to catch his breath, wanting to bawl his heart out from the pain enflared in his arm.

Gaster had grabbed him.

He had never done that before. But he just had to grab his burnt arms, didn't he? He was one of the few people that held knowledge of his burns, and he had just unconsciously used his injury against him.

This was it. Nothing between him and Gaster was ever going to get any better.

He heard rustling in the area nearby, just like yesterday evening. Curiosity once again taking presedence over pain, he crept closer towards the sounds to see what he would find making them. Over by a thicket of berry bushes, he found the noisemaker.

It was her again.

She looked exactly the same as yesterday, the only difference being the leather bag she wore over her shoulder. She seemed to be holding a glass container of some sort, picking berries from the bushes and dropping them in, letting out a soft happy-sounding hum as she did so.

Would she run away again if she saw him?

Before he could ponder too much on this, his mouth started running ahead of him.

"hey, it's, uh, me again." He called out to her.

She stiffened, turning her head around slowly to peer at him. He smiled awkwardly and raised one hand up, gradually, since the last time he moved too quickly she didn't respond well. The wraith stared at him for an extended period of time, wordless, before turning her attention back to the berry bush.

Her posture wasn't anywhere near as relaxed as it was before he revealed himself and she had stopped humming.

"i'm sorry about suddenly, you know… grabbing you yesterday. i just didn't want you to fall in the river."

"…"

"so, do you come here often…?" He was grasping at straws.

"…"

"do you have a name? i can just call you 'ghoulie' if you won't tell me."

"…"

"do you… understand a word i'm saying? at all?"

"…"

To his surprise, she actually turned around to face him, studying him intently before giving a small nod.

"…you do understand? what I've been saying? everything?"

Another nod.

"then why aren't you talking to me? did i offend you or something?"

"…"

"ugh, fine. be that way." He groaned, spinning on his heel and then sitting down on the ground right there, crossing his arms with a huff and his back turned to her.

A few more moments of silence passed, when suddenly he heard a tiny voice,

"...…Scary."

"…huh?"

"…Scary."

"sorry, i didn't catch that?"

"Scary. You're… scary."

She spoke in the same manner as someone that had gone an extended amount of time without using their voice; hesitant, soft and unsure of their words. Putting that thought to the side, he focused more on her words themselves.

"scary? me?" He pointed to himself, dumbfounded.

Yet another nod.

Sans stared at her, probably slackjawed as he thought,

"i must be pretty dang ugly if a monster thinks i'm scary…"

So, he decided to question her further,

"what is it about me that makes me seem scary to you?"

"…I …don't know you."

Well, if that really was the only reason why she was afraid of him, they could easily fix that, he thought.

He turned around and stood up, stepping over to her until he was towering over the girl.

She was petrified to the spot.

"you're right, you don't know me. but you will soon. and do you know why?"

He was trying to be funny, leaning downwards until their noses were nearly touching, and whispered,

"because we're going to be best friends you and i."

Sans shouldn't have been surprised when she let out a startled shriek, but he was, and he was startled even further when something collided painfully against his cheek with a loud smack – her hair?

A section of her tendril-like hair was raised unnaturally in the air, much like an octopus's tentacle ready to strike again. But the expression on her face said that she hadn't meant to do that at all, seeming almost sympathetic but still overrode with fear.

Before he could even begin to apologize for making things worse, he was suddenly violently shoved onto the ground landing on his behind. A third figure had intercepted his path to the girl – it was another wraith.

This one was redheaded and had eyes the color of blood. She was glaring down at him almost murderously, the green robe she was wearing fluttering around her as the wind shifted ominously around her. She bent downwards, her face hovering over his.

"Stay. Away. From. My. SISTER!"

Her face suddenly changed shape, looking far less like a woman in cosplay and more like the very terrifying creatures of legend they had been described as. The smaller and timid wraith clung to the other wraith now identified as her sister and quivered. The green clothed one was just about to pounce and most certainly put an end to his life when something stopped her,

"SANS! WHERE ARE YOU?! SAAAAAAANS?!"

Papyrus was looking for him somewhere in the distance. Sans turned towards the direction he heard his voice, but when he turned back to the wraiths, they were both backing away from him and the area entirely, clinging to each other as if they were one another's lifeline. The blue eyed shadow had her head tucked into the other's shoulder while the redheaded one scowled at him.

camita sora mia

ii sama dite doche

miketa amia

ideta asomarita

ii tento mia dora

ii sama vida doche

ii seta madora

iria ia dileto

This other wraith's voice was higher and stronger in tone and volume. The trees around the two, spaced out considerably suddenly began to huddle together, creating a massive shadow with their foliage that stretched several yards wide. The two then stepped backwards into the created shade and faded from view, the last thing Sans saw being her red eyes piercing through the darkness before they too faded out.

"SANS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING OVER THERE ON THE GROUND? ARE YOU ALRIGHT? YOU'RE NOT HURT, ARE YOU?!"

Papyrus rushed to his side moments later, apparently not having seen anything to do with the shadow monsters. He had shown up just in time, too.

Sans wanted to answer that he was alright, but he somehow found himself laughing instead.

"SANS, WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY- WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING? YOU'RE BEGINNING TO SCARE ME…"

Sans was scared too. Scared and excited all at once. He had never felt anything like it. He then flopped on his back in his hysterics, tears nearly streaming down his face as he laughed, clutching his stomach.

Later, when he thought about why he might have laughed so hard, instead of believing it to have been a delayed reaction to all the tension he had felt in that perilous moment and his body had released it by laughing it off, he concluded it was because, even though that other wraith had been ready to kill him where he stood…

He still wanted to meet that softspoken monster girl again.

232 notes · View notes

vanderlindeandco · 5 years

Note

I have a Baird x Reader request. Baird and reader have always argued and fought with one another. Marcus, getting fed up with their bullshit sends them out on a mission to "work their shit out". Stuck with each other the rest of the day they start to confess how they really feel about each other. Thank youuu.

Your eyes opened slowly, a sound you couldn’t yet identify having woken you. You looked around sleepily. The sun was just beginning to come up outside and in the dim light you could see Baird sitting on the edge of his bed, a rapidly-disappearing something in a red wrapper crinkling in his hands. “You were done with this, right?” he said, holding up the candy bar.

“You-” your attempt at a sentence ended there, rage welling up inside you like lava. You pushed back the blankets and stood, stalking across the gap between the bunks. You snatched the candy from his hand, but it felt tiny in yours - it was all but gone. You’d found it in the bottom of a vending machine in a deserted building - they were always empty but you still checked in case you could find one of the snacks you used to love. The few bites you had enjoyed had been a much-needed respite from the bland and repetitive food on base. You’d forced yourself to save the bigger part of it, intending to spread it out throughout the week. But no, Baird couldn’t respect that, could he?

“I mean, you left it out,” he said remorselessly as you turned to go stow the remaining morsels in your footlocker. You didn’t answer, instead opting to flip him off over your soldier.

“Shut up, you two!” Marcus’s growl came from his bunk in the corner of the room. “You’re acting like children.”

“Yes, sir,” you said grudgingly, slipping on a pair of shoes to go the showers before your duties for the day began. “What a fucking dick,” you muttered as the door into the hall closed behind you.

When you got out of the shower, you found you had received a message from Marcus: Truck bay. 0800. That was- you glanced at your watch - one minute from now. You took off at a jog down the hall, reaching the truck bay slightly out of breath and just a few moments late. Marcus and Baird were waiting for you there, and it took all your resolve not to shoot Baird a filthy look. “Sergeant,” you said, saluting.

“At ease,” Marcus replied. “We finally have a solution for the corpser problem. We’ve just received a shipment of sensors that need to be placed outside the base. They’ll pick up seismic motion and notify us of any incoming corpsers. I need you to place them.”

“How many are there?” Baird asked.

“Thirty,” Marcus said. “They’ll be placed in a one hundred mile radius around base. You’ll take two quads. I’ve already uploaded the locations and installation instructions.”

“You know,” Baird said, “I know a lot about this kind of thing. I could just take care of it myself.”

“And get shot in the back of the head while you’re focusing?” Marcus said. “No, this is a two-man job. Get your stuff and get going. I expect to see you back in about a week.”

Just great.

“You know this is your fault, right?” Baird said as you walked back to the barracks.

You laughed, looking at him incredulously. “My fault?”

“Yeah, if you hadn’t been so loud, Marcus wouldn’t be punishing us.”

You scoffed, half-assed comebacks tangling in your mind. You couldn’t even put together a coherent sentence and just shook your head, carefully avoiding looking at the man next to you - to even see his face would have made you angrier.

You left in a stolid silence, a duffel bag filled with survival supplies, ammunition, and a spare set of fatigues strapped to the back of your quad. At least it was a nice day out, sky blue, and temperature cool enough that you weren’t sweating under your armor. Well, at least it was a nice day until Baird opened his mouth again. “You remember how to navigate? Cause I’m thinking I should be in front.”

“Yes,” you said pointedly. “I went through the same training you and everyone else did.”

“Just trying to be helpful,” he said, and it wasn’t what he said, but the exaggerated empathy in how he said it, that made you snap for the second time that day.

“Why are you like this?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh, I’ve just got a heart of gold,” he said. “Unfortunately, I think you have to be born with it, so you might be out of luck.”

You swerved around a fallen lamppost, choosing not to answer him. It took a good hour of riding before you reached the location for the first sensor, and by then you were well out of the city and passing through long-since deserted neighborhoods. “I’ll cover you,” you said as Baird crouched with the Microminer, a tool that could quickly bore holes into the ground into which the sensors would be placed.

“Don’t need it,” Baird said.

“Fine. I’m going to look around.” Gnasher across your back, you crossed the street, peering through the broken front windows of a small house. The inside was dilapidated, raided, and stripped, little left but shattered glass and shredded furniture. You moved on, feeling a little saddened. The side door to the next house had been torn off its hinges and you stepped inside, the thick, dusty carpet muting your footsteps. You entered the living room, your eyes rapidly processing the locust crouched inside the broken windows, then tracking the aim of its hammerburst to Baird, crouched defenseless in the street, and even as his finger began to tighten on the trigger, you drew your Boltok from the hip, releasing a single bullet. The locust’s fingers loosened and it fell slack, collapsing to the floor with a thud.

“What the hell was that?” Baird had looked up at the shot, with apparently no idea at all of what you had done.

“I just saved your life.” You grabbed the grub by the back of its armor, hauling the body up to drape it over the window-ledge.

“Oh,” Baird said. “Thanks.” He nonchalantly went back to positioning the sensor and you pushed open the front door of the house to rejoin him in the street.

“Must be hard for you to know I was right,” you said.

“Right about what?” he asked, not looking up from his work.

“You needing cover,” you said.

“Eh, maybe,” Baird said. “I react quickly, and grubs usually don’t aim that well.”

“You are something else,” you said incredulously.

“Why thank you,” he said, shooting you a sunny smile that irritated you all the more.

“You just like to think you’re the best one in the room,” you said. “You always gotta prove yourself. And you never trust anyone.”

The smile disappeared, and he didn’t answer for a long moment. “Yeah well, maybe I am the best.” The response was lame, and it seemed you’d shaken him a little as he simply went back to his task without speaking further. It was nearly noon by the time you moved on from the first location and continued westward, away from base, until you were soon out of the neighborhoods and into the bomb-pocked, empty lands beyond. Marcus had plotted a course that would allow you to spend the nights in areas that used to be populated, which would at least allow for some cover, but the desertedness of the expanses outside the city was a little disconcerting, and it put you on edge, pushing Baird away from the focus of your mind.

Together, you were able to place three more sensors before darkness began to fall, and as the moon rose Baird placed the last one for the day next to the road in one of the old neighborhoods. You parked your quads behind a small house, covering them with an half-shredded tarp, and went inside to prepare for bed. You unstrapped your body armor, setting it aside so you could put on a long-sleeve shirt under it to stave off the night’s chill, and as you leaned down to pick up the shirt, your necklace swung out from inside the collar of your T-shirt. You tucked it away quickly, hoping Baird hadn’t noticed, but you had no such luck. “Were those diamonds? If you pawned that, you could finally get yourself some decent guns that aren’t like, fourth-time hand-me-downs.”

“I’m fine with what I’ve got,” you said, slipping on the other shirt before putting your armor back on. No one ever saw the necklace, and it felt wrong that he knew. It made you feel vulnerable.

“Where’s it from?” he asked.

“What, we’re just making conversation now?” you asked.

He tore open an MRE bag and licked away the bit of runny chili that leaked over the edge. “Why not?” “Well, because we’re not really, you know, friends?” you said.

Baird shrugged. “I’m bored.”

“That’s fair.” You paused, feeling the weight of the necklace against your chest. “It was my mother’s.”

“‘Was’?” Baird repeated.

“She died on E-Day,” you said. “She got me to safety and gave it to me. That was about it.” It was a time in your life that you tried very hard not to think about, which was why you dreaded speaking about it.

Baird nodded. “Lost my parents that day too… Wow, aren’t we cheerful?” You chose some food from your bag and ate; it was a little sketchy, as the MREs tended to be, but it filled your stomach, and by the time you were done you found yourself getting a little drowsy; it had been a long day.

“Man, if only we had some dessert,” Baird said with a smirk as he tossed his empty container into a dusty corner of the room.

You scowled at him. “You’ve had plenty.” You stood, grabbing your duffel bag, and rolled out your bedroll in the farthest corner of the room.

“What, you’re not even going to give me a kiss? On our first night together?” he called across the room. You crawled into your sleeping bag, turning your back to him. “Good night, honey,” he crooned, and you closed your eyes, trying to relax despite the new irritation.

*****

You woke first the next morning as the sun began to rise, its early beams weak. Baird was asleep on the other side of the room, tucked soundly into his sleeping bag. For a few moments you considered pulling a prank on him… But no, you were better than that. And besides, you couldn’t think of anything good. “Wake up,” you called as you began to roll up your sleeping bag but he didn’t budge. “Baird?” Nothing. You crossed the room and nudged him with your foot. “Wake up.” He was still peacefully sleeping, his face relaxed and his breathing slow. “All right, then. You’re asking for it.” You unholstered your Boltok and fired a shot into the floor a few feet from his head.

“What the fuck?” he jerked upright, stumbling to stand while still in his sleeping bag and lost his balance, hardly able to catch himself before his face hit the ground with his arms so restrained.

“You’re a hard sleeper,” you said. “C’mon. It’s time to go.”

He sputtered indignantly as he tried to disentangle himself but you didn’t wait around, instead going outside to uncover the quads.

When he joined you, it was with a scowl on his face, which meant there was a smile on yours. “How else was I supposed to wake you up?” you asked.

“You weren’t,” Baird said. “We could have slept in.”

“Anything I can do to get this over with more quickly, I’ll do,” you said.

“Wow, you really hate me that much? I must be doing something right,” he replied.

You weren’t going to let his crankiness spoil your mood, so you spoke no further, instead climbing onto your quad and revving the engine before pulling away. He followed, and when you glanced at his face in your rearview mirror, it was still sour. He needed some time. It was a productive day; by evening you were through with placing a third of the sensors, which put you slightly ahead of schedule. As before, Baird had insisted he didn’t need cover, but still you didn’t stray far just to be safe. You were a few buildings away, eyes on a vending machine that looked promising when you heard a shout and turned to see Baird still crouched facing you, a grub behind him with his gun to Baird’s temple. Behind you, there were sudden sounds of movement and you turned to see some five or eight more locust, all heavily armed, emerging from the surrounding buildings. They remained behind you, falling still fifteen feet or so away. The message was clear. Surrender or he dies. You considered giving in, but then you remembered what had happened to Maria and so many others that had been taken prisoner by the grubs. No, you and Baird were getting out of here.

You set down your gnasher - you could never hit the grub and avoid Baird with that gun - and slowly began to raise your hands in surrender, ignoring Baird shaking his head. You quickly scanned the street, eyes settling on an old sedan parked some five feet away - that would be your cover. The grub holding Baird hostage relaxed as you neared a position of full surrender and that was all the window you needed - you drew your Boltok, sighting down the hefty barrel and loosing a shot before you dove for cover as the guns behind you began to spray. The grub holding Baird went down and he ducked behind his quad, resting the barrel of his lancer on the seat as he began to take out the grubs. From your position behind the car you drew your rifle likewise, beginning to pick them off; they hadn’t expected to need cover and so they had very little, and soon the last one fell.

“Don’t say it!” Baird said as he rose from behind his quad.

“What, that I told you so?” you said pointedly and he groaned.

“Yeah, that.”

“I saved your life,” you said. “Again.” You picked up your gnasher and began to search the dead grubs for any ammo or supplies that could be useful to you.

“What other choice did you have?” he asked.

“I could have let them have you and booked it out of here,” you said. “But I wouldn’t have.”

“No, of course not,” he said.

“Out of curiosity, why do you think that is?” you asked. By now, you had reached Baird, who had finished the placement of the sensor earlier and was now burying it.

“Because you’d miss me, obviously,” he said, standing and brushing the dirt off his hands.

“What’s there to miss?” you asked.

“All right, all right, you did it because it’s the ‘right thing to do,’” the last part came in a mocking tone. “I get it. Get off your high horse.” There were some times you could tolerate him - mainly when he wasn’t speaking - but there were also times that you just couldn’t keep your mouth closed. It had gotten you into trouble before and you were sure it would many more times, but you didn’t regret your honesty. Your conflict with him had gone on too long; it was poisoning your experience as part of the best squad you had ever been on, and it was turning the others against the two of you. And you were frustrated with him for more reasons than perhaps you were being honest with yourself about.

“You know, before I was transferred to Delta, I’d heard a lot about you,” you said. “One thing I heard was that you do a damn good job at hiding that you’re actually a decent person.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his tone confrontational.

“Yeah. My question is - are you really hiding anything? Or is this all you are? Cause I was a little starstruck by you when I first came over. I liked you. Then as soon as I got to know you, all the macho-ness and sarcasm took over - maybe that’s all there ever was and I just got tired of putting up with it.”

He didn’t answer immediately, and you couldn’t read his expression. Finally he said, his voice quieter than before, “You don’t realize how much the squad changed when you joined. I thought you were just going to be another soldier, you’d be another gun and some extra manpower.” He took a slow breath, his face conflicted. “But then everyone liked you. I liked you. Things changed. Instead of taking me on missions, Marcus started bringing you sometimes. When I was going to go on recon with Dom like we always used to, he’d be training with you instead.”

He was jealous? The Damon Baird, the blonde genius, was jealous?

“I don’t know if you realize how long we’ve known each other and how long we’ve been friends,” he said. “But it all changed when you came, and I didn’t appreciate that.”

“Was it fair to take it out on me, though?” you asked tentatively. You hadn’t expected the honesty and the last thing you wanted to do was push him back into his shell.

“Maybe not,” he admitted. “But you want to know the worst part? I wanted just the same thing I was pissed at them for. When I was going out to fix comm towers and satellites, I wanted to bring you with me. But you distracted me.”

“I did?” You remembered your first weeks with the squad. You’d known about Delta’s reputation, and you had spent the first stretch of your time with them somewhat in awe, trying to learn as much as you could. You remembered those missions with Baird. You had been nowhere near as forthcoming as you were now; you had been the perfect soldier.

“You didn’t mean to,” Baird said. “But you did.”

“You liked me,” you said, shocked.

“Don’t get a big head,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly. “But yeah, kinda. That’s in the past.”

“Is it?” you asked. “Because we obviously still have a problem.” That was generous - the problem was pretty much all on his end, but you knew you needed to handle it carefully. You hadn’t realized how close you were to him in the intensity of the conversation, but now, in the tense pause, you realized how blue his eyes were and how appealing, even chapped, his full lips appeared. Honesty looked good on him.

“You said you liked me,” he asked tentatively. “At first?”

You hated that your cheeks flushed, but they did, and you couldn’t help it. “So did you!” you said, realizing how childish the words sounded only when they had left your lips. His hand landed on your lower back and something caught deep in your stomach, a wavering tension. He drew you closer and you felt yourself willingly going as you looked up into his bright eyes so close, looking for an answer. He left it up to you and you took the chance, craning up into a kiss, gentle and searching, passionate but careful. He drew back just slightly, a familiar smirk appearing on his face, “I knew you were secretly in love-”

“Shut up,” you said as you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, weaving your fingers through his hair, and pulled him back in.

The strangest thing about it was that being so tender with a man you had spent the last three months hating felt so right. At first, you had been fully aware of your attraction to him, but after things changed, his behavior had repressed it to the point you nearly forgot it had ever happened. But all those original feelings were rekindled now, warm and curious deep inside you.

When at last you pulled back, you just stood there for a moment, a little shell-shocked. “Are you gonna be back to the old you now?” you asked finally. “Not the candy-bar stealing whiny you?”

“I’m gonna be honest with you and make no promises about candy bars,” he said. “But I’ll do my best. And you’ll stop second-guessing everything I say and getting me in trouble?” “I’ll only do it when you deserve it,” you said.

“That’s fair,” he said. “All right, let’s get moving.”

It was about a two-hour ride to the next location, and you rode mostly in silence apart from the sound of the vehicles. As Baird revved up the Microminer, you said, “Please tell me you won’t resist me covering you this time.”

“What’re you talking about?” He looked up at you with a bright smile. “I don’t need it!”

“You son of a bitch!” you exclaimed, though you were laughing. “I’m doing it anyway.” “Suit yourself,” he said, setting to work.

*****

“How’d it go?” Marcus asked as the two of you reported back to him several days later upon finishing the mission.

“Well,” Baird said. “We got them all placed. No issues.”

“Yeah, except him almost getting himself killed a few different times,” you said. “But I took care of that.”

“I-”

“I did!” you said, cutting off Baird’s protests.

“…Yeah,” he admitted.

That was all Marcus needed. He could see his purpose had been fulfilled, and there would be peace in the squad again. “Good. Go talk to Henry and fill out the relationship paperwork.”

“Excuse me?” you asked.

“Soldiers in relationships. There’s paperwork to be done,” Marcus said.

“Who said we’re in a relationship?” Baird asked.

“Did you ever wonder why I chose the two of you for that?” Marcus asked. “I need you to get along. I figured you’d have a couple days of arguing before you’d break down and remember how much you used to like each other, and then you’d be back to where you were two months ago.”

“Did they do it?” Cole’s voice interrupted the conversation as he and Dom rounded the corner.

Marcus nodded. “Ha!” Dom said. “I knew it! Hand it over, Cole.”

Cole grumbled, but handed Dom a finely-crafted bowie knife, which Dom stuck in his belt.

“What was the bet?” Baird asked.

“I thought you’d be together by the end of this mission, and Cole thought one of you would have seriously injured the other,” Dom said.

“I came pretty damn close,” you said.

“Oh, you weren’t the only one,” Baird countered.

“Save it for the bedroom,” Cole interrupted, face painted with exaggerated revolt.

“Get out of here,” Marcus said, but the corners of his lips had quirked into a smile before you turned to go.

“See you around,” you said to Baird, planning to head to the bathrooms for a much-needed shower.

“Yep. Hey.”

You had turned to leave, but the word stopped you.

“Thanks for covering me,” he said, true earnestness in his eyes for once.

“You’re welcome.”

#damon baird #gears of war #gow #baird x reader #sfw #request #this one was super fun to write #so thank you for the request!

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howrry · 5 years

Text

when you need me

a/n: here’s that slowburn i mentioned. there WILL be a part 2 so don’t hound me on it!!!! i promise she’s coming!! enjoy :~)

w/c: 5.1k

warnings: sfw! brief mentions of violence

***

Harry and Y/N were friends for exactly one summer.

Y/N and her family moved in next door to Harry when she was seven, and her parents were delighted to find out that the boy was the same age as their daughter. Sure, at the time of the move, Y/N wasn’t intensely attached to any of her old friends or her old home or her old school, but it was good to have someone to ease her into the new life.

The two clicked immediately. They played every day that summer, either swimming or playing cops and robbers or drawing on sidewalks with chalk. They rode bikes around the neighborhood, and shot basketballs in the hoop that belonged to the teenager down the street, and explored the small forest behind their home for squirrels. He taught her cool card tricks and she taught him how to make perfect chocolate milk without using an overwhelming amount of chocolate sauce.

It was a match made in heaven—up until a few days before the beginning of classes, the last time they would've openly called the other a "friend". It wasn't that when the summer ended, they'd had some big fight or randomly stopped talking to each other; it just... wouldn't have been logical to remain associated once the school year picked up.

They’d been playing in a sandbox at the local park that day. Sure, they were a little old to be playing in a sandbox, but the only people there were a family occupying their usual spots on the swing set. Harry dug around in the sand forming both holes and piles around him while Y/N drew pictures with a stick.

“Look what I found!” he yelled, holding up a little earwig he’d dug out from the sand. He waved it in her face, to her disgust.

“Gross, Haz.” She backed up and almost stumbled back out of the sandbox.

Harry laughed and tossed it back into the sand, where it burrowed itself. “You’re such a girl sometimes.”

“Because I don’t want you shoving bugs in my face?”

“Tommy and James like bugs. They think they’re cool.” His gaze dropped down to the sand where he began to mimic her drawing.

Y/N paused for a second. “Well I’m not Tommy and James, am I?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “So… you don’t want to be friends with them when we go back to school?”

“Not really. I don’t like bugs. I like…” She scanned around the park. “Flowers. And art!”

He laughed. “I guess we’re just different people at school. What are we gonna do?”

She thought it over but didn’t answer. “It’s getting late. Let’s start walking home.”

The two strolled back to their homes, kicking rocks and not saying much. Once they’d reached their front lawns and the street lights flicked on, she broke the silence.

“Just because we can’t be friends doesn’t mean we can’t say hi.” Such a simple conclusion. “And we’re pretty helpful to each other.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I taught you how to shuffle cards.”

“Exactly. Let’s make an agreement.” Y/N had been watching some Law and Order episodes when her parents weren’t around. They mostly bored her (since she was far too young to understand what was going on) but the legal parts of the show enticed her. “Let’s just be there for each other when we need it.”

“Like when we’re in trouble?” he asked, brows furrowing.

She giggled. “Yeah. But just in general too. If one of us needs help, the other will do what they can.”

Harry nodded, staring past her. “Sounds fair. Shake on it?”

The two shook hands and went inside their homes, with no idea what can of worms they’d just opened. ***

The first time the pact is utilized, it's for a jar of dewberry jelly.

The school year had arrived, and Harry and Y/N had almost no contact other than a brief ‘hello’ whenever the two ran into each other during the day. He hung out with Tommy and James who laughed too loud in class and threw dodgeballs really hard in Phys Ed. She made new friends with girls in art class who put stickers on their binders and gushed about fashion. Their agreement went unused for a very long time—two years to be exact, but it’s not like a child is gonna find themselves in deep trouble at every turn.

Y/N's parents were still in bed asleep one Saturday morning and she really wanted some toast. It was quite an easy breakfast to make for a 9-year-old by herself, up until she went to open the jar. Nothing. Not even a budge. It was almost ridiculous how much she was struggling to open the stupid lid. She even tried going on Google for tricks on how to open a jar: tapping the lid with a knife, running it under hot water, using duct tape, etc. No dice.

The idea of waking up one of her parents for help flashed over her mind, but stirring them before noon after a whole week of hard work just seemed evil. She had no other option but to ask Harry for help.

She grabbed the jar and ran next door, using the knocker to alert them of her presence. Gemma opened the door, one headphone in her ear and the other dangling. She scanned Y/N, and before the younger girl could even open her mouth, Gemma turned around.

"Harry, your friend is here!" she called and drifted back in without inviting her in. Fortunately, he appeared in the doorway before Y/N could realize how awkward the situation felt.

"Oh, hey, what's up?" he asked. Instead of answering his question, Y/N just shoved the jar into his hands.

"Please help me! I just wanted some toast but the jelly doesn't want to get eaten!" she whined, crossing her arms in a huff.

He inspected the jar a bit before laughing and popping open the lid with ease. When he handed back the jelly, their fingertips brushed together but he pretended not to notice. "Enjoy your toast."

"Thank you!" And she went off with her opened jar, skipping back to her house.

***

The second time, he needs her.

It's been two or three years since the jar fiasco, and Y/N had started to get an inkling that she wouldn't be seeing much of Harry anymore. If he could go so long without needing her or even acknowledging her in the hall, maybe that was the end of the two of them. The long amount of time without H had somewhat given her closure anyways.

Her mother had already gone to bed and she should have as well, but late-night reruns of Full House were so much more appealing than sleep. Y/N could feel her eyelids get heavier and heavier and she almost drifted off right there on the couch before there was a tap on the living room window looking out into her backyard.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, but when her eyes adjusted and she realized it was just Harry, her shoulders relaxed. As quietly as she could, she opened the back door and guided him inside, holding a finger to her lips so that he’d remain silent. Y/N took him to the dining room, an area far from her parents’ room so that they could talk freely.

“What’s wrong?” she finally asked, eyeing the backpack draped over his shoulder.

“Mrs. Williams is gonna fail me if I don’t get this project done,” he breathed, setting the bag on the table. “It’s a collage piece, and I’ve tried to do it m’self three times now and I ruin it every time. You’re an art genius, can y’help me?”

She smiled at being called an art genius. Sure, Mrs. Williams gave her an A on every piece and she even won an award at the local art competition for her stop-motion movie on a butterfly hatching, but she wasn’t Van Gogh. Still the compliment rang in her ears and the pact itched at the back of her mind. “Of course.”

It was a simple assignment, using magazine clippings to make a collage about anything they wanted, and Harry picked football. He pulled out several magazines, most of which had been cut out of already (presumably for his first three attempts) but there was still enough left to make a coherent project.

As Y/N got to work, he stared at her. “You’re not using enough glue,” he noted as she arranged David Beckham in the center of the cardstock.

“Who’s the art expert, again?” she snapped. The cutout stuck perfectly and he hummed in deflation. “I see why your first three projects didn’t work,” she joked, making a little smile appear on his lips.

As Y/N finished up the cutting, the two of them could no longer contain their yawns and Harry began rubbing at his eyes with his fists. "Do you ever think that we shouldn't be this tired, at this age?" she asked, breaking the heavy silence lingering over the dining room.

Harry unceremoniously dropped his chin into his palms, watching her work. "I think we'll be thinking that for the rest of our lives."

***

Y/N hated being late.

First there was the issue of wasting other people’s time, then there was the whole show about feeling awkward when you did arrive. This was all her history teacher’s fault—he was so freakin’ deaf he didn’t hear the warning bell and griped at the students who tried to pack their bags or leave. Once he’d realized what time it was he griped even more about how nobody told him it was time to go (they did; he just didn’t hear).

So, she somehow had to make a five minute journey across her campus in negative two minutes. Easy peasy. Y/N had no other option but to book it, until she unfortunately ran smack into Cara, one of the mean girls in her year.

“Watch where you’re going, spaz!” she whined, even though Y/N was the one who crashed onto the floor. Two other girls stood behind her, one of whom was named Lacey and the other was just some bitch who copied Cara to get ahead.

At the beginning of eighth grade, the secretary at the front desk of the school chose a few students each class period to help her with filing and giving notes to teachers and so on. Cara was one of the students chosen which virtually gave her the free pass to wander around whenever she wanted. Her friends, not so much, but if Cara told you to do something, you did it, even if it meant skipping class.

Y/N scrambled back up without apologizing, adjusting her bag and planning on walking away and ignoring her. Unfortunately, Cara stopped her by stiff arming her. “What’s the rush?” she hissed, a malicious smile curling up. Her eyes fell down to the ground. “Nice shoes. Do they come in women’s sizes?”

Okay, she was just trying to psych Y/N out. They were plain black Doc Martens, for crying out loud—it’s not like she was in steel toed work boots. “Are you done?” Y/N asked, unamused.

The grin on Cara’s face dropped and was replaced by a grimace fit for a cartoon villain. “Now listen—” she started, ready to chew the other girl out, but was interrupted by someone behind Y/N.

“Fuck off, Cara, or I’m telling the headmistress that your clown posse is skipping class thanks to you.” It was Harry, of all people. (Why he wasn’t in class either was a whole new can of worms, but Y/N chose to be grateful.)

She huffed out of her nose, realizing she was backed into a corner. Cara shoved past Y/N and slammed her shoulder into her, her goon squad following behind hot on her coattails.

Y/N breathed out a very appreciative thank you to Harry, and when he nodded at her, she went back on her way to her class, now with negative 4 minutes.

***

Y/N’s first mixer party was a night to remember, to say the least.

It took ages to convince her parents to let her go, but in her defense, both her mom and her dad were going to parties at 15. Plus, that was in the age of serial killers and before cell phones, so she definitely had the upper hand in that argument. Besides, it’s one party, what’s the worst that could happen?

Someone in her geometry class had invited her, and the same day she went to get a new flowy top from H&M to wear there. One of her art friends, Jenna, had already gotten her license and drove the two of them to the party where things were already in full swing once she’d entered.

It was a very mild kick back. It was a lower attendance than she’d anticipated, but the main point of reference she had were those crappy teen movies. The only thing people had to drink were those Smirnoff Ices that have almost no alcohol and a ton of sugar in them, which totally repulsed Y/N. Guess it’d be a sober evening for her.

After a few hours of chatting with people (that she would just talk to in school anyways) and listening to music, Y/N was about ready to call it a night. She excused herself from the host’s living room in search of Jenna when she felt someone tug at her arm.

It was Tyler, one of the centers on the school basketball team. “Y/N, hey! What’s up?”

She was totally caught off guard. Tyler was reallygood looking and didn’t usually spend his time around the art students. “Oh, um, hey. I was actually about to—” she started, eyes drifting to where he was holding her elbow still.

“Leave?” he finished, flashing a pearly white smile. “No way, it’s so early! Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

A pit formed in Y/N’s stomach. What could Tyler want with her? Her eyes narrowed, but she figured she’d probably regret leaving more than finding out what he wanted. “Sure, what’s up?”

“In private, I meant.” He gestured towards the back porch, which eased her mind. If he was just trying to get handsy with her, he’d take her to a bedroom—not outside by the pools where everyone could see.

“Okay,” she finally agreed, letting him guide her outside into the yard.

The backyard was large and well taken care of. The pool had lights that changed colors, and all of the furniture matched the mahogany color of the deck, fence, and pool shed. A black grill looked like it had never been touched and the grass was a beautiful shade of bottle green.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked, breaking the ice and shoving his tanned hands into his pockets.

“Kind of. Not many of my friends are big partiers so this scene is pretty new for me,” she admitted, eyes dropping down to her shoes.

“That’s why I was surprised when I heard you were coming.” His hand came out from his pocket and lifted her chin up so that they were making eye contact. “I figured it was my only chance to tell you how pretty I think you are.”

Y/N was, how you say, shook. Her eyes widened and she squeaked out a “really?” before being alerted by a noise coming from the pool shed just a few feet away. “Did someone just laugh?” she asked, head snapping over to the shed in question.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Tyler claimed, trying to get her attention away from the shed to no avail.

“No, I swear I heard a laugh,” Y/N absentmindedly insisted, leaving Tyler to go yank open the doors of the shed.

What happened next was in light speed. The doors flew open to reveal Cara and Lacey, the former holding a 5-gallon bucket and the latter a cell phone as if she was filming. Before Y/N could even get a dazed ‘what?’ out, Cara had dumped the contents of the bucket onto Y/N. Ice water.

She let out a shriek at this, frozen in every sense of the term. When she could feel her feet beneath her again, she spun around to see Tyler laughing his ass off along with the girls.

“I almost couldn’t do it!” he yelled, clutching his stomach.

“Thanks, Ty,” Cara purred, going to loop an arm through his. “You earned that $20 fair and square.”

Y/N didn’t stick around for any longer. She didn’t want to go back in the house in the state she was in, and everyone had probably seen what happened anyways. Rather than face even more humiliation, she did the only thing that came to mind: run.

Y/N could text Jenna later. She ran and ran and ran until she was home, but rather than go inside and cry her eyes out in bed, she found herself at the base of the oak tree next to Harry’s window.

She frantically shimmied up the tree, pausing only to wipe tears out of her eyes. Her knuckles collided with his window and for a moment she wonders if it was too loud. Then the thought of Harry not hearing the knock at all flashed through her mind, and she was left wishing she'd hit it even harder.

The room brightened just a little bit, as if he'd turned on a lamp. She perked up at this, leaning forward but keeping her balance in the tree. He pulled aside the dark curtains and opened the window carefully.

"Y/N?" he asked groggily. "What are y'doing? Why are you soaking wet? Y'scared me half to death." She opened her mouth to explain but her eyes just welled up and she felt her face turn pink. "Wait, are you crying? Get inside." He lifted the window even higher so that she could tumble in gracelessly. Without asking any more questions, he pulled her into a big hug, where she sobbed quietly into the crook of his neck. It took a moment to get the sad out of her, but once she was ready to let go, his hug lingered for a half-second too long.

So there she sat, on his bedroom floor, covered in cold water and trying not to shed any more tears then she already had. Harry handed her a fluffy towel and she wiped her face off before starting to babble. "I'm sorry it's late, and you were probably sleeping, but it's been a really - hic - long and rough night and I just needed someone. I know I needed you last and it's not my turn but I didn't know who else to go to—"

"Wait wait wait, what did you say? Your turn?" he asked, holding a hand up and completely halting her babbling.

She nodded, wiping at the mascara running under her eyes. "I mean... yeah. The past eight years we've switched off who gets the next favor. You helped me last time when Cara and those other girls were picking on me, and now here I am again."

His eyebrows were knitted together in sheer confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said slowly. "It's never been on a turn system. Whenever you come to me in a time of need, or vice versa, we help each other." Y/N nodded, feeling dumb. "Besides, you didn't cometo me that time. I was just in the right place at the right time. Even if we were doing turns—which we're not—it's still technically yours anyways."

He was trying to make her laugh, and it worked. Her wobbly and blotchy face broke into a cute smile without her even trying, and Harry always found an underrated beauty in a laugh after a good cry.

"Now, do yeh wanna talk about tonight?" he pressed gently, sitting on his bed and offering her a spot next to him. It was hard explaining what happened without crying again, but once his hand started rubbing up and down her back, it was easy to relax and tell her story.

He was disgusted with what he’d heard, of course. “I’m so sorry about that Y/N,” he stammered, unsure of what to say. “You don’t deserve those kinds of people in your life, not now and not ever.”

She smiled and it was totally contagious. “Thanks H.”

“Do y’want me to get you some of Gem’s clothes?” he offered. “Yeh look like a sad puppy, shiverin’ and all.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, I think I’m just gonna go home. I can tell my parents I fell in the pool. Thank you for listening, and everything else. You’re a great friend.”

She returned the towel and left the same way she came in, Harry making sure she safely got to the ground before she ducked into her home. Something felt strange for a few minutes afterwards and Harry couldn’t put a finger on it until he was tucked into bed and drifting out.

That was the first time she’d called him his friend in eight years.

***

Fuck, my laundry!

Three universal words that will have anyone throwing themselves out of their bed late at night to go dig through a washing machine and pray it hasn't been so long that the clothes need to be rewashed.

Y/N was one of these people, on a night where she should probably be out with friends. It was Saturday night, but that meant tomorrow was Sunday and the day after that was Monday and that meant her stupid Calculus homework would be due. Who said that senior year would be a breeze? She wanted to kick their ass.

Fortunately, the clothes were fine, and on the way back to her room she was imagining how she was going to backflip into her bed and knock the hell out for nine hours. Just before she went upstairs, she saw a shadow in the corner of her eye fluttering outside the front door.

Her blood ran cold. Her parents were long asleep at this hour; if this was some intruder, she wouldn't be able to make it over to their room and have them awake quickly enough. Her mind scrambled over dozens of plans and ideas (all of which ended with the intruder totally catching her) before something really surprised her.

A knock at the front door.

Umm... people planning on breaking into your house don't knock. Well, they do, but only at two in the afternoon when they're checking if someone's home, not when it's well after midnight. She tiptoed to the door and peered through the glass to see none other than Harry.

She swung the door open instantly. "Harry? What are you do—?" She stopped when her eyes adjusted and finally was able to see that he was notin good shape.

Harry's hair was mussed up, lacking its usual composure. He wasn’t able to stand up straight without leaning on the column, like he was drunk as hell. One of his eyes had a purple smudge under it and his nose trickled a tiny amount of blood. His arms were covered in scratches and bruises, but the most pressing issue was what seemed to be a paper towel soaked in blood he was holding against the side of his torso.

"Oh my God!" she whisper-yelled, guiding him inside and taking him upstairs to her bathroom. She sat him down on the edge of her tub and dug through her cabinets for a first aid kit.

Y/N didn't ask any questions. She washed her hands, found a clean rag, wet it with warm water, and rubbed a tiny bit of soap on it. Harry was still sitting with the paper towel, which she tossed in the trash can immediately.

"Can you... uh..." Y/N trailed off, gesturing weakly towards his black t-shirt. He nodded, understanding exactly what she meant, and slowly reached up to the back of the neck on his shirt to yank it off his body. He hissed when he was able to lower his arms, and she got straight to work cleaning up his wounds despite his whines.

She'd never been this close to his skin before. That was kind of a weird sentence when she thought about it, but it was true. It was tanned and firm, and a few inches above the cut on his side were the ripples of the serratus muscles. Nice.

Once the cut was cleaned up, it was clear to see that it wasn't bleeding nor had it been very deep in the first place. To be safe, Y/N used an alcohol pad to sanitize the wound once more (which Harry was not a fan of, since he didn't see her pull out the packet nor have time to brace himself) and bandaged it up with a Band-Aid bigger than the palm of her hand.

Harry watched her intently while she tended to him. He noticed how when she focused really hard she always pursed her lips, just like she did when she did his art project. Everything she did to him was delicate, as if getting his ass beaten was enough excitement for one night. Even just her stepping back to admire her handiwork and cocking her head was so... gentle.

"Hmm... you're pretty," he goofily mumbled, making her head snap up. As soon as it was out in the room, he shook his head and ran a hand down his face. "God, sorry about tha'. I think I'm still a little drunk."

"Wow, the first boy who compliments me immediately takes it back and blames it on being drunk. Just my luck, right?" she joked dryly, cleaning the bloody rag and rewetting it with fresh warm water.

He stared at her. "Wait, are yeh serious? The first?"

Y/N paused, staring down at her hands. "I mean... does my dad count?"

Harry laughed at this but only for a second before wincing from the pain. He figured she wasn't counting that skeez who'd tricked her back when she was 15. "Then I take back taking it back. You're beautiful and caring, and I really appreciate you--ah, fuck-- doing this for me."

She'd started dabbing at the dried blood from his still-sensitive nose. "Thank you, Harry. That means a lot." Y/N further inspected his nose, gingerly feeling it and holding the rag below it to prevent any further bleeding. "Doesn't feel like it's broken. Think it's just a little sore. In a day or so you'll be right as rain." Her focus moved up to his black eye, and Harry didn't breathe while she let her thumb ghost over the thin skin. "This doesn't look that deep, either. I'll get something to cool it down, and if it still looks bad, I'll give you some makeup to cover it. Be right back."

She left him alone in the washroom but returned quickly with two little boxes of apple juice. "Why'd y'get two?" he asked, taking them from her.

"So you can drink one. You looked parched." She went back to cleaning the remaining blood from the rag and hanging it to dry on the towel rack. Once the bathroom had been reorganized and Harry had finished his juice box, she sat on the lid of the toilet. "So... if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, but... can I ask what happened?" She waved a hand around his entire body.

He snorted. "Honestly, whenever I think about it, I cringe a little. It's so cliché."

"How so?"

Harry inhaled through his bruising nose sharply. "So m'at this party with my mates, right? I didn't know a lot of people there, so I was just trying to mind my business and have a pint or four. I'm sitting in the corner of this house near the front door and I see this girl trying to leave. She's totally wasted, and it kind of looked like she was calling an Uber. I tried t'keep an eye on her 'cause, y'know, world's a dangerous place. Just as she's about to leave, some guy comes up to her. Looks real mad. Demands that she go home with him, which she protests, says her ride is there. They kind of argue while she's going out the door, so I got up to follow 'em." Harry paused to roll his neck side to side, one pop one each side making the only sound in the bathroom. "Out on the porch, he's practically got her in a bear hug. I go into panic mode and start yelling at him.

"I'm yelling at him 'get off her' and 'what's your fuckin' problem' and stuff till I catch his attention. He shoved me, I shoved him back, then it's kind of a blur. Guess he got a couple in on my face before one of his buddies joined in on kicking my arse. I got knocked down and I landed on somethin’ rough which is what cut me up so bad." He gestured towards the bandage on his torso.

"Jeez, Harry," she breathed out, eyes like saucers.

"I know. The girl managed to make it out to her ride while all this was going on. Some other blokes pulled the fighters off me and I didn't know what to do. I grabbed some paper towels from a gas station t’stop the blood and came straight here.” Once he’d finished explaining, his gaze dropped down before adding a soft, “Didn’t know where else t’go.”

She nodded. “I appreciate that. I’m glad you’re okay and I’m glad that girl is as well. The universe will reward you for this for sure.”

He laughed at her ominous remark. “Little weird, but it’s not like I expected normalcy from the art expert.”

Y/N guided Harry back downstairs after giving him a big shirt to change into. “I’ll wash this and give it back as soon as I can, okay?”

He nodded and stopped at the front door. Harry looked down at his little Florence Nightingale, decided to do the one thing he’s wanted to do for almost ten years now, and leaned down to plant a kiss on her lips.

For a second, she was pliable and willing, and he thought she was about to deepen it, but instead she pulled him off. “I need…” she started, dazed. “I need you to forget that just happened.” Then she opened the door, pushed him outside, and closed it in his face.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fiction #harry concepts #harry styles masterlist #permanentcross #majorharry #harryforvogue #jawllines #haroldloverboy

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

Text

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 14

14. you’re the only thing that’s making any sense to me

Chapter Summary: domestic moments, the band gets a record deal and everyone’s celebrating in the way they best know now

Warnings: nsfw big time but not full smut, drinking, drugs, had a breakdown from dan howell’s new video in the middle of writing this and i have work in 3 hours (it’s 6am) this goes a lot of places and also seemingly does nothing. please feedback?? highkey moments for all of lola/mc, and poly!lola is officially being established

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove @obsessivesky @lovehelpmewrite@colsons-crue @marvelismylifffe @lilytalebi @glitterdreamsz @freddiessmallnipples @crazysaladchopshop @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @dramatique-moi @missqueeniewrites @calspixie @aryssav @catsoo12 @sweetshutter @silvertonguedserpent @shamelessobsessions @lavenderbones22 @keepcalm-and-beyou @scarecrowmax @nicholeh7

{masterlist}

Lola's the one who organises the meeting for them, though she doesn't go; she's their assistant, but this is a band decision, and besides, she was covering a shift at the hotel and couldn't make it even if she'd wanted to.

Instead, she wakes at about noon to the sound her alarm, shoving Nikki where he grumbles about it, and climbs over him to shut off the alarm and start getting read. It's the fourth one she's had in as many months, since both she and Nikki have a habit of tossing it across the room in favour of getting up. She searches for the cleanest uniform she can manage amid the grubby chaos of their bedroom.

"Don't forget; meeting at the Rainbow after practice," she tells the still mostly asleep bassist, dropping quick kiss on his cheek before she's carrying her pile of clothes to the bathroom.

"Vince!" She kicks at the door of the spare room where Vince has been staying since Beth had kicked him out of her place. Vince, who's got a marginally more coherent sleep schedule, pulls the door open, wearing sweat pants holding a copy of Rolling Stone that looked like it had been set alight at one point.

"Any particular reason you're out here screamin' your head off?" He asks, leaning against the doorframe, taking a moment to appreciate her soft, unguarded state in the midday light. Lola steps up to him, kissing him softly in greeting.

"You've got a meeting after rehearsals, it's at the Rainbow; don't let Nikki forget." Much softer this time, Lola reminds him about Elektra, and steps out of his space before he can wrap his arms around her like is often want to do. At his pout, she laughs, turning on her heel, "I've got work." Is her only explanation, but Vince just snickers and heads back to lounge on the bed until Nikki decided to wake up.

When she's done showering and dressed, Lola makes two calls; Mick and Tommy. If nothing else, she at least tries to earn her title of assistant. Her hair's up in a towel and she's got the kettle on when Mick answers. It's brief, and he thanks her for the reminder, lets her know he'll be around at four, and they hang up.

When she calls Tommy, his sister answers.

"Hey Athena, it's Lola, is Tommy awake?" Lola asks, voice kind, and the girl on the other end of the line covers the receiver before shouting the drummer's name through the house. After a beat, Lola can hear the faint mumbling of someone, not Tommy, probably a parent, scolding her. Athena then uncovers the receiver.

"He's on his way," she says, and sounds weirdly smug. There's a beat of time where Lola assumes Tommy's making his way to the phone, and Athena asks when the band will play somewhere she can go watch, somewhere she can actually meet Lola; "come on, he won't shut up about you, I mean you and the band but I've met the band-"

"Who is it?" Tommy's voice is faint over the other end of the line, and Lola can feel herself blush just a little at his sister's words.

"Lola~" Athena all but sings, and there's some sharp noises, line the phone's being roughly grabbed, and a muffled shout, like someone's got their hand over the receiver, probably Tommy as his voice is far closer as he tells Athena she's annoying. Lola can't help her grin through the whole altercation.

"Sorry about her," Tommy breathes once he's got the phone to his ear, "what's up?"

"Don't apologise for her, it's cute; do really talk about me and the band that much?"

"'Thena, you're dead," Tommy doesn't even bother to cover the receiver this time, though his voice is dampened like he's shouting over his shoulder. Lola just laughs.

"Don't worry about it, dude, I just called to remind you about practice, and your meeting tonight," Lola tells him, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder as she unwraps her hair from it's towel, throwing the towel over the arm of the sofa, leaning against the wall where the phone was connected.

"Oh hell yeah! Awesome!" Tommy's mood shifts immediate, and something tightens in Lola's chest to be able hear the smile in his voice. "Four, right? I'll be there."

"Well alright, babes, I gotta finish getting ready for work, good luck for tonight-"

"You're not gonna be there?" He actually sounded disappointed, and Lola couldn't help her fond smile. Though he couldn't see it, he could hear it when she spoke.

"I'm working a double, covering for one of my casuals," she paused, "but I finish at ten, if you're still around after that we can see who's playing; I think Sucker Puns is playing the Starwood." And he's agreeing quick, joyous and bright, quick to wish her a good afternoon, and then they're saying their goodbyes and hanging up. The kettle finishes boiling.

Lola's pouring milk into her coffee when Vince joins her in the kitchen, now changed into a white singlet and a pair of brightly coloured shorts, making a beeline for the fridge.

"Could you grab me the Easy Cheese while you're in there?" She asks, capping the milk and handing it over, pointedly ignoring Vince's look of disgust at the bottle of cheese he hands her, swapping it for the milk, which he puts away. Lola's already turned away from him, picking through the bread to find a slice without mold and throwing away the other two she had to go past to find it.

"How do you stand that shit? No cheese is actually that colour," Vince frowns as she sprays an upsetting amount of incredibly processed, orange cheese spread onto the single piece of bread.

"I don't know a lot about cheese," Lola starts, carefully folding the bread in half, taking a big bite and turning to Vince, leaning against the counter; he looks a little horrified, there's cheese almost leaking from the bread, "but I feel like, in my heart, you're wrong," Lola tells him, mouth full of bread and cheese sauce, "besides, it's my dad's favourite-" she took another bite, "so don't be a dick." Though that's mostly unintelligable.

After a long, drawn out pause, they both break out into laughter, Lola with a hand over her mouth to keep from spitting food, but she's quick to finish, and wash it down, gulping down half her coffee in one go.

"Your food habits fuckin' horrify me, you know that?" But Vince is smiling as he steps up to her, wrapping his arms around her where she's leaning against the counter, holding her coffee to her chest. "Nikki living off of hotdogs and whiskey and pills, I can deal with that shit, but you-" he shakes his head, laughing.

"Cheese is good, Vince," Lola fires back, taking another sip of coffee, before reaching back to put the cup on the bench, "and it's cheap; the less I spend on food, the more I can put towards booze and other stuff, you know." Vince's smile is exasperated but somehow endeared, and he reaches up to scratch at her scalp with one of his hands. Lola leans into it, watching him.

"You could be a millionaire and still be downing that plastic, orange shit like it was water," he snickers, though there's no malice behind it, and Lola gives him a gentle shove.

"You gonna kiss me or are you afraid it's gonna taste like cheese?"

He smirks at her like it's a challenge, leaning in and pressing a single, chaste kiss to her lips, something warm and surprisingly tender about it, but then his hands are ghosting down her sides until he's pushing her obnoxious work skirt up, hands on her thighs. By the time he's got his hands on her ass, he raises a single, questioning eyebrow at her. Lola steps her feet apart, never breaking eye contact, still smiling as Vince sinks to his knees. Lola's laugh is low and heady, tipping her head back, and she leans further back on her hands on the counter, all thoughts of the frivolous argument leaving her head.

"I don't have a lot of time, Vin."

"I don't need a lot of time," and she can feel him grinning at his own cockiness as he presses a kiss to the stretch marks along her inner thighs.

Moments like this with this, passing interactions, beats of domestic familiarity, are becoming a far more regular occurrence. Not just with Vince, who throws around casual contact like it's nothing - and hadn't that been strange at first, for the girl who was so used to keeping painfully discrete for fear of jealous girlfriends or groupies - but it's as if everything's shifted. Perhaps it's having someone around who didn't hesitate to reach out, to make contact even with other people around, that made Lola feel more comfortable reaching out to Nikki too. And, of course, Tommy. Even Mick, at times, though that was far more platonic, but he, at the very least, seemed to enjoy her company. He'd even taking to wrapping an arm around her shoulders when he wanted to discuss something about the setup or pack down; a vast improvement from the guy who didn't want her around to begin with.

Lola doesn't think about it too much, because if she does she starts to grin, blushy and unrestrained and completely against the image she's cultivated for herself. It's not really anything serious, they all still have lives, and they all still have groupies, in a manner of speaking, but it makes her happy in ways she can't quite articulate.

They're in her thoughts for her full nine hour shift. Every smoke break she takes she considers how long it would take to run to the Rainbow, but ultimately decides that it would ruin her look to show up in her work uniform. The casual she was covering for had been part of the housekeeping staff, and Lola hadn't been a housekeeper for so long, she forgets how much she hated it, and how disgusting people were, which was saying something considering who she lived with.

By eight, she's flagging and ready to head home, and by ten, she's really half-assing everything, though she knows she can get away with it. When she clocks out, she practically runs the six blocks home. It's not a short distance, but it's habit more than anything else, and when she drags the window open and climbs inside, remembering how Nikki had nailed the door shut after the last party had brought the cops and left the lock ineffective, Tommy's the only one there. He looks about ready to burst with excitement.

"Did it go-"

"They gave us a fucking record deal!" He yells, and Lola, not one to be underdone, matches his energy, actually screams, and practically launches herself at the drummer. Managing to wrap herself around him like a koala, he stumbles back from the force, glad for the sofa behind him as they both go crashing down.

"Fuck yeah! Hell yeah! Fuck yeah you got a record deal!" Lola's babbling, leaning back and taking Tommy's face in her hands where she's sitting in his lap. She's beaming, positively glowing with enthusiasm, and Tommy's right alongside her, tapping at her thighs, grinning up at her. "I'm so proud, I'm so fucking-" but she cuts herself off, can't help herself, kisses him hard, letting go of his face to fist her hands in the collar of his shirt, as if desperate to be as close as possible.

But then she's leaning back, eyes wide, mouth moving a mile a minute.

"I'm still in my uniform, fuck, I- where's the others? Are they out celebrating- lemme get changed-" She rattled off, a frown slowly creasing her forehead, and Tommy leaned back into the sofa, laughing.

"Oh, dude we are absolutely going and getting completely fuckin' blitzed tonight, but there's no rush; the guys are at the Starwood." He adds, and Lola takes a deep breath, taking the moment to calm down, to recenter herself. His hands are so steady and warm where they're resting atop her thighs, and he's grinning, because of course he is, because he's Tommy and he's busting at the seams with excitement at any given moment, but he can still reel it back to let Lola breath, and something about that makes Lola's heart warm.

"You're a fucking rockstar," she murmurs, leaning forward again, and something about how she's looking at him, the glint in her eyes and the way she wets her lips, Tommy never wants this moment to end.

"Yeah," he agrees quietly, "fuck, it doesn't feel real, you know?"

"No other band on The Strip works half as hard," Lola drags the nails of her left hand so gently up the side of his throat, to hold his jaw in one hand, and he leans into it, hums in agreement as she murmurs reverentially, before pressing a kiss to his jaw, "or deserves it half as much."

"Fuck, Lols-" he groans, his grip on her getting tighter, and Lola hums in acknowledgement, but presses a kiss to his throat, "fuck, you just-" but he cuts himself off, and Lola sits back a little, watching with confusion.

"I'm so proud of you, dude, I just- I want to show you, want to-"

And it's like a switch has been flipped in his mind, like he remembers the whole conversation they'd had just a few days ago, like he remembers that he's allowed to want her like this. He surges forwards and crushes his lips to hers, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of her work shirt.

It's awkward at first, fumbling with clothes, and quietly adoring laughter when Tommy grimaces at the state of the sofa, but then Lola's in her underwear, straddling his thighs, kissing him like it's her mission in life, and his hand moves between her legs, and they find a way to fit together. They find themselves a rhythm and it feels right.

They fuck on the sofa, and then again in the bedroom when Lola goes to get changed, and she lets him lead. She's tentative, doesn't want to go too hard or too rough, doesn't want to hold on too tight lest he run the moment she lets go. But his curses sound like prayers, and his nails sting so good where he's holding her hips, and she can't help herself. She scrapes her nails hard up his back, and the sensation has him shivering and groaning, arching into her, and she bites his shoulder to muffle her own moans.

Lola's not in her usual 'going out' attire, settling for a pair of jeans and t-shirt she'd picked up off the floor. As she goes to leave the apartment, however, Tommy, who's grinning like the Cheshire Cat and smelling like sweat and sex and hairspray, offer his hand. Tentatively, she takes it, not quite sure what was happening, and surprised when he doesn't let go. Hand in hand, they head to the Starwood. They both just chat excitedly about the record deal, they talk about what actually happened at the meeting, and not about what just happened, and not about whatever it is that was currently happening.

All three of the other band members, as well as a very awkward Tom Zutaut, were all at the bar, and all cheered when Lola and Tommy showed up. They dropped hands automatically, but neither seemed to mind. While Tommy ordered a drink, Lola made a beeline for Zutaut.

"You made the right choice," she told him with a sudden, unwavering seriousness. Zutaut smiled, but didn't seem nearly as intimidated as the first time he met her.

"I like to hope so," he laughed a little, "so how do you know these guys? Do you just work for them or were you friends- ?"

"I've lived with Nikki for years." She answers honestly, half smiling, and that seemed to unnerve him out more than anything else. The woman turned abruptly to face the bassist, who had discretely been watching the interaction, and her whole expression lit up.

"I heard a rumour that we're getting shitfaced tonight," Lola grins sharply, making her way to him, letting him wrap an arm around her, opening his leather jacket to indicate the bag of white powder tucked away from the public eyes.

"If I remember any of tonight that isn't me signin' a fuckin' record contract, I'm gonna be severely disappointed in myself." Nikki announced, and Lola laughs, and she rests her chin on his shoulder. She tells him she's proud, tells him she knows how much this means to him, but her voice is low, quiet enough that none of the others can hear, and honest enough that it makes Nikki's breath catch in his throat for a moment. When he turns, she's gazing at him with such love and adoration that is almost hurts.

He never wants her to stop looking at him like that.

And for just a beat, she a look of realisation passes over her face, and like she wants to say something- but she can't. She looks away.

The night is a blur of revelries, of booze and blow and pills and strippers, and Lola shuts up about how proud she is about half an hour in, by the time she's good and tipsy, but it's always there in the glint of her eyes, the curve of her smile.

Every so often she'll reach out, her fingers gentle where she holds Nikki's wrist, and the first time he'd frowned, asked if everything was okay, and she'd nodded, but hadn't let go for a few moments. It's strange and endearing to watch the way she interacts with the others, Nikki notes, because he's known Lola long enough to know when she was sleeping with someone on the regular. Something about this is... different.

Vince is loud and tactile, and Lola's grown comfortable tucking herself up beside him, his arm around her waist while they hold two different conversations with two different people, barely paying each other attention, just enjoying the contact. With Tommy it's - horrifying as the concept is - sweet. They share looks, share laughs, and occasionally, when they think no-one's looking, they'll steal a kiss and Lola will turn pink and Tommy will turn smug and it's weirdly endearing.

And with Nikki? She can read him like a book, but out of habit they're discrete. Standing or sitting close enough that they're shoulder to shoulder when there's so much extra space, or she'll take his wrist, or rest her hand on his for a few moments beneath a table. Or Lola will be the one to reach out, make moves that can be construed as platonic, and fill them with meaning that only the two of them are privy to.

Yes, the night is a blur, and he's pretty sure he's going to regret not remembering whatever he and Lola and that stripper got up to in the private room, but when he tumbles into bed, they're both too tired to do more than peel off their various layers of leather and jeans and fall into bed together, but when they're alone Lola's clingy, and they're both too fucked up to really hear Vince's date for the night through the walls, he's coming down enough to appreciate Lola's reverential tone, voice quiet and a little slurred, but so damn sincere when she tells him that she knows he's gonna go far, when she waxes poetic about the way he plays and writes. In the back of his mind he knows she's drunk and enthusiastic, and that maybe he should take what she says with a grain of salt, or that he could be hallucinating.

She's in that high, hyper focused state, the two of them laying facing one another, and she's gazing at him with a distracted smile like she's trying to commit his face in this moment to memory.

"You and me against the world," she murmurs, reaching out to gently hold his chin, as if to keep him in place, "it was always you and me against the world." It's followed by such a gentle laugh, and Nikki can't even begin to keep himself guarded from his own real emotions.

"When you get all big and take off, will you take me with you?"

He's not sure what she means but her voice has gone quiet, barely more than a whisper, her expression so raw, pleading almost, desperate for an answer. He doesn't even have to think about it, just wraps her up in his arms, pulls her close, tries to stave off her worries with the physical contact. She buries against him, warm and solid and so familiar.

"Of course, Lo, always."

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx imagine #Tommy Lee #tommy lee imagine #Vince Neil #vince neil imagine #nikki sixx x oc #lola x tommy #vince x lola #Mick Mars #the dirt #Motley Crue #motley crue imagine #the angry lizard writes

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mollymauk-teafleak · 5 years

Text

Black Coffee (chapter two)

Thank you so much for your response to this fic, I’m so glad people like it. Special thanks to @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian

If you enjoyed this, lease consider leaving a comment on Ao3 or donating to my ko-fi page! It really means a lot.

Chapters: 1

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Percy hadn’t dressed for a date in a very long time.

In fact, when he thought about it, he didn’t think he ever had. He’d only ever had one relationship, back at boarding school, and he’d only had two outfit choices back then. School uniform or rugby kit. Somehow he didn’t think he’d still be able to pull that off at thirty.

He rifled through his wardrobe one more time, metal clacking reproachfully with each poor offering. Too boring…too stuffy…oil stains…oil stains…ripped…

With a noise of frustration he hiked his bath towel further up his hips, it had started to slip. The only clothes he seemed to own were either designed for a mansion’s ballroom or not fit to be seen outside his workshop. Maybe he had time to go into town and pick something new but even then, what sort of thing should he get?

Percy ran a hand through his hair. He probably wasn’t supposed to be thinking like this. This wasn’t a real date, it was a service. Why was he so concerned with looking good for Vax’ildan, when the half elf likely thought of this as work rather than anything recreational?

“This whole thing was supposed to help you relax a little,” he grumbled at his reflection, half visible in the full length mirror that hung on the back of the door, “Not stress you out more.”

His reflection didn’t seem to have an answer for that. It just stared back at him, eyes large and owlish without his glasses, hair sticking up after the shower. Living off takeaway food whenever he actually remembered he needed to eat clearly wasn’t doing him a lot of favours; where he wasn’t rail thin he was more round than he wanted to be. He was a very unhealthy kind of pale, everywhere except the very ill thought out tattoos he’d gotten when he was younger.

In short, he looked like no one’s dream date.

Part of Percy wanted so desperately to turn off the lights and crawl back under his blankets. Or maybe go to his workshop- the larger room in his penthouse that was really supposed to be the master bedroom- and lose himself in cogs and wires and screws. There would always be an answer there. There was always a way to make things fit, a solution he understood. He’d find no such certainty out there, stumbling awkwardly through a facsimile of a relationship.

That part of him was dangerously close to winning when he turned and saw his laptop, a sleek and black machine on his sleek and black sheets, still open, it’s glow reproving and impatient. Percy’s email was still open, the cursor blinking away on the still stubbornly blank message.

Cassandra had emailed him two days ago now. A short and to the point email, appearing cold to anyone who didn’t know his sister but Percy knew how to read the concern in those few words, asking how her brother was, what he was up to. He knew the words that weren’t written as plainly but were there nonetheless. I’m worried about you. Please tell me you’re at least a little bit okay.

She was halfway across the country now, studying at a good university though Percy could picture the horror on his father’s face if he ever heard his only remaining daughter had wandered outside of the Ivy League. But Cassandra hadn’t been concerned about prestige. She’d wanted distance.

She’d run from their parent’s city as quickly as Percy had become welded to it.

He hadn’t replied yet, hence the empty page. Because what the fuck was he supposed to say?

Hi Cassie, glad to hear you’re doing well and achieving all your dreams and making me so proud even though I’m too much of an emotionally constipated arse to show it. I’ve done absolutely nothing since you left, short of skipping counselling, talking to screwdrivers more than living things, moving like a robot through the activities I think our parents would want me to do and haunting our father’s penthouse like some depraved Phantom of the Opera. Keyleth’s still around though, I continue to be a shitty friend to her. Lots of love, your worthless brother.

Percy groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, where there were always two perfect red indentations from his glasses.

Admittedly, hiring someone to have sex and play romance with you wasn’t the sort of thing that he was going to put in an email to his sister. But he’d be able to say he’d left the house. He was meeting new people. He was doing things.

He’d be able to say he was getting a little closer to being okay.

Decisively, Percy closed his laptop but reached for his phone, lying on the nightstand where it had woken him up a full five hours before his date. It took less than two minutes to send a text to Keyleth.

Want to go shopping with me? Need a date outfit.

Vax woke up, as he often did, with a mouthful of fur.

“Urgh,” he groaned, shoving against the great weight on his chest, “Trinket, get off, you’re disgusting.”

Of course it didn’t come out as coherent as that, seeing as his brain wasn’t fully awake. But that was what he’d intended to say.

The large dog whined, not enjoying being evicted from the nice warm bed, landing on the floor with a thump after a dedicated shove from Vax. Neither of them were sure what kind of dog the enormous, dark brown ball of fluff was but all he knew was that he was a hell of a lot bigger than the shelter and his sister had promised he’d be.

“Don’t be mean to my dog!” his sister yelled from the next room, hearing the thump.

“Then tell your horse to stop smothering me in my sleep! If you’re going to try and assassinate me, be a little more creative,” Vax shot back, though he was frowning. His sister was still here? What time was it?

He clawed around for his phone, eventually plucking it from his many blankets, though not until he’d come up with a lipstick, a sock and a chewed up tennis ball. According to the screen, still perfectly functioning even with the hairline crack through it, it was nearly eleven.

Not bad for Vax’ildan. He’d been averaging noon the last few weeks.

Still on his screen were the messages he’d been exchanging with Percy last night. Though it didn’t say Percy on the text windows, he’d decided to keep the name Orthax in a fit of romanticism and intrigue, with an emoji of a red flower beside it. It was very much a tulip and not a carnation but it was the closest he could get.

They’d been texting quite comfortably in the day since they’d first met up and had set their first proper date for that afternoon. Which, shit the bed, Vax now only had an hour and a half to get ready for.

Cursing, he jumped up, staggering a little when his legs momentarily forgot they were legs, surging forward into the room that was half their kitchen, half their living room and too small to be either. His sister was sitting on the sofa, not even dressed for work, reading a book while petting Trinket’s ear. The dog was whining and making himself look very hard done by, probably to get Vax even further in trouble.

“Why aren’t you at work?” Vax paused, “Did you burn the bakery down?”

Vex worked half a hundred odd jobs around the city, often going straight from one to the other, changing her uniforms in the subway bathrooms. But on Tuesdays and Thursdays she worked the early shifts at a bakery a few blocks away, putting in the morning bread and folding croissants. Often she’d come home with some misshapen goodies for supper, making that Vax’s favourite of her jobs.

Not that he really enjoyed seeing his sister run herself ragged, coming in at ridiculous hours to snatch what sleep she could and still struggling to make rent, rarely having the time to do the one thing she really enjoyed- volunteering at the animal shelter.

Though maybe if she did spend more time there, she’d come home with more dogs. Vax could live without that.

Vex wrinkled her nose and swatted at him, “They’re installing new ovens. I’m not the one who put a fork in the microwave last week.”

Vax tried to look offended as only someone entirely guilty of what they were being accused of could, “It was a rare lapse in judgement…”

After a very pointed eye roll, Vex jerked her thumb in the direction of the kitchen counter, “A package came for you, by the way.”

Knowing he still had very little time to get ready but curiosity piqued, Vax wandered over to see a small, brown paper package with his address inked in a very neat hand. He unwrapped it, thinking how he hadn’t had any post for so long, feeling that nostalgic rush of excitement like a little kid with a birthday present.

Inside he found a bag of coffee. The kind Caduceus made and sold at his café. And written on a little post it, right on the front was the same handwriting as the address and suddenly the neatness of the hand seemed so perfect, fitting the voice that accompanied it.

Good morning! See you soon xx P

“What are you doing, you goof?”

Vax had been grinning ridiculously wide for a long time before he even realised he was doing it and his sister’s remark made him suddenly grasp what an idiot he must seem. And how he definitely hadn’t been planning on explaining his new situation this soon. Or with foggy, just-woke-up brain.

“Uh…” he looked up, “Just…a present. From a friend.”

Vex narrowed her eyes, “A friend? What kind of friend?”

“The kind that sends me coffee,” Vax tried to look haughty, “Do you want some or not?”

“That seems very…niche.”

“And?” Vax could feel his voice getting higher and more defensive and entirely less convincing, “Look, no time, I have to get ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Gods above, what’s with the third degree this morning? Tie me down and shine a line in my eyes, why don’t you?”

Vex’ahlia watched her brother storm off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as if he had anything to be incensed about. She sighed and turned back to Trinket as he heavily put his head in his mama’s lap.

“As long as it’s nothing illegal…” she murmured to him.

The dog blinked large brown eyes at her.

“You’re right, it probably is,” Vex groaned.

Vax reappeared a little while later, he never stayed in the shower for long. He marched past, towel cinched under his arms, going in front of the sofa so his sister couldn’t miss how he tossed his dripping wet hair and sniffed huffily. He slammed the door of his bedroom, leaving behind a scent that was unmistakably Vex’s favourite, treat day only shampoo.

She resolved to steal some of his coffee as soon as he was gone.

Vax had decided early on to meet always Percy somewhere other than his apartment.

There were a good long list of reasons for this. It would save Percy from being crushed to death under 250 pounds of affection starved dog. It would avoid him coming into contact with Vex, which would only lead to awkward questions and maybe Percy having an arrow fired at him if he startled her on her way to her archery class.

And, most importantly, Vax didn’t want him seeing his place. Not that he was ashamed or anything, he just didn’t want to feel like he had to defend it from someone who clearly lived in penthouses and country mansions. He and his sister had worked so hard to get the life they had now, earning their independence and freedom with tears and sleepless nights. It would always be sweet to them, even if it was poky, cluttered and had a damp problem they couldn’t get rid of.

Vax didn’t want to see everything they’d won look shabby and insignificant through someone else’s eyes; it would taste too much of Syldor. He didn’t think he’d be able to hold back his anger if that happened.

He’d never heard of the restaurant Percy offered to take him to, but he managed to find it and seated himself nice and obviously on the railings across the street. After two minutes of watching the place, Vax realised why he’d never been there. It was so far out of his price range, it may as well have been in a neighbouring galaxy.

He looked down at himself, his large boots and artfully ripped jeans (done by Vex after he put one of the knees through) and loose striped jumper in black and grey. His heart sank as he realised he really wasn’t dressed for this kind of place.

“Vax’ildan!”

His voice was full of warmth, he sounded genuinely delighted to see him. That alone would have caused the delicate, rosy blush on the tips of his pointed ears, if he hadn’t also looked drop dead gorgeous.

Their last meeting, there had definitely been handsomeness lurking under the exhaustion and nerves but this time Percy wasn’t hiding it, he was wearing it plain on his face. His hair was trimmed and smoothed over one side, everything underneath a white buzz that looked almost silver in the afternoon sun. His jaw was clean shaven however, taking years off him in an instant.

And he was wearing a suit. Vax suddenly realised he liked men in suits.

“Percy,” he stood, smiling, accepting the embrace that came his way. Gods, he even smelled expensive.

“I feared I’d imagined how handsome you were last time,” Percy dropped his voice to a more intimate volume as he pulled away, a smile pulling one side of his mouth up, “Apparently not.”

Vax’s ears coloured even more and he was suddenly glad he always styled his hair to cover them.

That’s how they were doing things, huh?

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he smirked, resting a hand on Percy’s hip, “You look lovely, by the way.”

Percy’s confidence suddenly slipped and he gave a bashful smile, “My friend helped me choose it. She’s way better at that sort of stuff than me.”

Vax’s smile became warmer. He found he liked self-assured Percy and awkward nerd Percy. They were less two sides of a coin and more a changeable day of weather in the same sky.

“Well my compliments to her for choosing it and you for looking so good in it,” he grinned, sliding his arm through Percy’s, “Though you’re going to look even better next to me. I forgot who I was going to lunch with…”

Percy stopped, dismay crashing over his expression, “Oh…Vax, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…I didn’t think, I’m sorry if I made you feel like that…”

Vax grimaced, “Percy, no…bad joke, sorry. It’s fine. Though…if there’s a dress code, we might not be getting in…”

“I, um…” Percy coloured a little, “I don’t get turned away from places.”

“Of course not,” Vax looked down at his boots, drawing away from him.

“And…well,” Percy looked through the windows, into the warm exterior of the restaurant, “All those people in there are very well dressed. And I’d much rather spend an evening with you than any one of them. Funny, isn’t it?”

Vax lifted his eyes, so startled it took a few seconds for laughter kicked in, sudden and bright.

“Gods and I thought you were flattering me before…”

“There’s flattery and then there’s truth,” Percy smiled and for a moment, both kinds of weather could be seen in the sky like sun shining through drizzle. It was fairly beautiful.

Once enveloped in the warm, rustic Italian ambiance of the restaurant, the two of them began to talk, each of them surprised by how much they were sharing.

Vax learned that Percy also had a sister, though he didn’t live with her, younger than he was. Neither of them said a word about parents and both were happy with that arrangement. He learned Percy was thirty, had played rugby at his all boys school and would still like to but he didn’t know any teams nearby. He learned he had a mild addiction to video games, was allergic to shellfish and was kind to waitstaff.

Percy learned Vax’ildan preferred red wine to white, partly for the aesthetic which he happily confessed. He learned he’d been out as trans for three years, had been dancing since he was ten and thought tap was a criminally underrated art medium. He had just about every possible ear piercing going, which he shyly showed Percy after a little cajoling, always preferred the second act of a musical to the first and was a very fast eater.

“So…” Percy eventually broached, once he’d finished the last of his affogato, “What would you say to going back to my place after this?”

Vax stopped wondering if there was a subtle way to lick the last smears of chocolate off his plate and looked up, smiling easily, “Of course. Sounds lovely.”

He did a little internal check and found no lingering reservations. Have some probably average at best sex with a handsome, affable guy? He’d heard of worse ways to make rent.

As they walked to Percy’s car, Vax felt his phone buzz in his pocket, a message from his sister.

Are you okay? What do you want to do for dinner?

Vax felt a rush of guilt. He probably should have made sure there were leftovers to take home for her. That was the usual policy when one of them went on a date. The arancini had just tasted so damn good, he’d forgotten.

Sorry, I just ate with a friend. Don’t worry about me.

Less than two minutes later, a reply.

The same friend you mentioned this morning?

Vax narrowed his eyes.

None of your beeswax.

And yes.

“Okay, this is me.”

Vax knew nothing about cars but he could read luxury in the sleek lines of black metal, the silvered wink of axel and ridiculous hood ornament, “Woah…”

“Cars are kind of the one thing I let myself get a little crazy over,” Percy admitted, opening the passenger door for him, “Benefits of having money and being a bit of a nerd for engineering.”

“Yeah well,” Vax shrugged, “You should see my Metro card. It’s pretty swish.”

Percy laughed, sliding in behind the wheel and bringing the engine to life. Vax wondered quietly when the last time someone drove him somewhere was, when he wasn’t left to get wherever he wanted to go on his own two feet.

Of course it was impossible to get to any kind of speed, driving in a city as dense as this, though there was enough power in just the purr of the engine to make Vax anxious if Percy wasn’t such a methodical driver. His hands rarely left the wheel, flitting from here to there when they had to but always returning, blue eyes aware and fixed ahead.

He went to turn on the radio…though drew his hand back after a pause, “Actually…we should probably have a talk about this.”

“About what?” Vax tilted his head.

“Well…about what kind of things we like? About what we don’t like?” Percy bit his lip, “You know. In bed.”

“Oh right,” Vax waited for Percy to say more though none came and he assumed it was his turn first. Clearly Percy’s poised manner of speaking was struggling with talking about sex.

He thought for a moment, deciding to be a little more honest than he was anticipating, a little surer in getting a good reaction, “I don’t usually like being penetrated. Some days I’m down for it but they’re few and far between. Mouth down there is fine but if you’re careful about, you know, the words you use, nothing too specific…I’d appreciate that.”

Percy nodded, still watching the road carefully though he was clearly listening intently, “Okay. Well, that makes what I was going to ask you a lot simpler.”

Vax hummed curiously, prompting him with a look.

Cheeks now fully red, Percy managed to force out in a rush, “I was going to ask if you fancied fucking me?”

Vax gave a bark of delighted laughter, “Atta boy, that wasn’t so hard, huh?”

“Shut up,” Percy was still the colour of Vax’s wine but laughter was bubbling up, “Take this as a warning for the level of inexperience you’re dealing with. In fact, that’s part of the reason why I got in contact with you. Your job is to help me introduce a little bit of…variety into my bedroom. How does that sound?”

Vax grinned, tucking one leg up to his chest, “That sounds like something we can definitely do.”

Vax knew he should be impressed. How could he not be, after seeing the sheer size of the apartment block, a dizzying behemoth of glass and steel that warped perspective in a sickening way, and the opulence of the foyer, everything modern and styled with an effortless hand.

And he was, for a very brief moment. When the elevator doors slid open, right into Percy’s living room and he was shocked by the vista from the wrap around windows, the city wreathed in dusk like a watercolour painting that needed two glances to see was really real, he was too awestruck to speak.

And then all he could think was that this didn’t feel like a home. It felt unlived in. It was like an Ikea showroom, fun to imagine lounging around in but it was sterile and barren. Like a hotel room, like somewhere kept exclusively by a businessman for when he was in the city. Nowhere to really live.

And, as he took him on a tour that didn’t take very long because there was very little in the apartment, Percy looked so lonely. Everything around him seemed too big, making him look like a little kid playing at being his father. Vax watched him rattle around in the black leather, polished silver, exposed brickwork rooms, feeling a strange sense of pity that he couldn’t pin down.

“And this is the bedroom…” Percy pushed back the door, holding it for Vax.

Not my room. The bedroom.

It did have a little more life to it, a good amount of mess that had clearly been hurriedly tidied away that morning. Books, a small TV clearly only there for the benefit of the games console resting against it, half-finished projects of cogs and soldered pipes, blue prints tacked up on the walls that were so detailed and covered in scribbled notes they were incomprehensible to Vax. There was even something living, a plant on the windowsill with brilliant white blooms that were jug shaped and gave off a wonderful smell, kind of like a lily.

“What’s this?” Vax asked, stroking one of its wide, shiny green leaves.

“Oh,” Percy took off his suit jacket, hanging it idly on the door, “A present from my friend, Keyleth. She’s a druid, spends all her time minding the wildlife in the national park outside the city, breeds her own new strains when the mood takes her. She named that one after me as a bit of a joke.”

“What’s the joke?” Vax’s ears picked up with interest.

Percy stopped in the middle of taking off his tie, looking like he wished he hadn’t said anything, “Oh, it’s, um…kind of an inside thing…”

“You are not getting away with that, absolutely no chance,” Vax raised an eyebrow, folding his arms determinedly.

“Gods, I wanted to wait as long as possible before I had to tell you this,” Percy pinched the bridge of his nose, knocking his glasses askew, “We haven’t even had sex yet…”

“I promise I’ll still have sex with you!” Vax wheedled, kneeling on the bed, leaning towards him eagerly, “Tell me!”

“It’s…I’m going to murder Keyleth…it’s called the Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III Lilium…I mean, the lilium part isn’t in my name obviously…that’s the plant…”

Vax paused, carefully controlling his expression, “Oh…”

Percy winced, “Are you still willing to have sex with me?”

“You said you’d pay my rent, right?”

“Yes.”

“We can still have sex.”

Percy looked abashed for a moment until Vax couldn’t maintain his composure and burst out laughing, soon catching his riotous cackling in spite of himself.

Once they’d caught their breath, Percy found himself down to his shirt and pants, the next step in undressing rather a major one, “Mind if I…?”

Vax gave an encouraging gesture, perching on the sheets, eyes interested. The being watched, the sudden irrefutable presence of another heartbeat in the room, another set of eyes on him that hadn’t been there before, had something inside him stirring.

He couldn’t say any more than that yet. Just something. But he wanted to chase after it.

He took his shirt off slowly, methodically, not yanking it off and tossing it to one side like he normally would. He was suddenly so aware of everything, every single movement he made, every inch of newly revealed skin.

“Nice ink,” was the only comment Vax made as he abandoned shirt and trousers. But there was a spark of hunger in his almost black eyes and his pupils were widening by the second.

“Thank you,” Percy smirked, hooking his thumbs under the band of his boxer shorts, “I hate them. Relic of my misspent early twenties.”

“You’ll have to tell me about them one day,” the half elf returned easily, somehow the epicentre of the charged, wanton tension in the room despite being fully clothed down to the boots, “Now the underwear. Please.”

Percy swallowed hard, feeling something not unlike fireworks in his chest. He slid down the last bit of fabric preventing him from being completely and utterly naked (though he wasn’t sure if glasses counted) in front of another person in years.

“Well well…” Vax’s voice was a murmur though it hit Percy like electricity, “You’re a very handsome man, Percival.”

Percy didn’t want to admit how good those words made him feel, his body responding in kind, electricity gathering low in his stomach and between his legs, “Now you, please?”

Vax hopped up happily. Whereas Percy had been shy, methodical, aware of every move he made, his partner was haphazard and eager as if this was all very commonplace.

Though he stopped when Percy blurted, “That’s a little small, isn’t it?”

Vax froze, looking down at himself, only wearing his flesh coloured binder and his boxers. He didn’t enjoy this transition period and stopping still during it was jarring, “What?”

“Your…sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Percy bit his lip, “Your binder. It’s a little too small for you?”

“Well…” Vax shifted, “Yeah, I could do with the next size up but…this one still does the job, I guess. How do you even know that?”

“My boyfriend at boarding school was trans,” Percy explained quickly, “I did my research back then.”

“Oh,” Vax’s defensiveness drained away and he relaxed into the unfamiliar but welcome luxury of not feeling like a novelty, “Well remembered, then.”

It came off shortly after, anyway, along with his underwear. The look on Percy’s face was flattering to say the very least.

Oh yeah, both men had the exact same thought at the exact same time, unbeknownst to each other, I chose well.

“I ordered it on kind of a whim so I hope it’ll fit…”

Vax gave himself a long, indulgent look in the mirror. The harness was real leather and steel, the metal excitingly cold against his flesh, all of it cradling his hips perfectly. The toy itself was black, as if to match the straps that held it in place and married it to his body, black as Vax’s hair.

There was a lovely synergy to the whole look.

“Wicked,” he grinned, not really having heard a word Percy was saying.

He turned and gently pushed him back onto the bed, stopping his anxious muttering, turning it into soft gasp, so soft for such an angular man. Percy looked lovely against the black silk of his expansive bed, so startlingly pale, like he was negative space in the middle of the world.

Vax personally thought the best angle to view a lover from was while pinning them to the surface you were about to fuck them on. And Percy certainly didn’t disappoint, pupils as dilated as an excited cat, red flush spreading down from his cheeks across his chest like ink dropped in milk. Vax could watch as the breath caught in his throat.

A perfect time for a first kiss. And so that’s what he did.

He tasted of wine, white wine, but Vax thought he could learn to bear that t when it came from someone else’s lips. Percy’s hand came up and held him just right, resting right there on the nape of his neck, thumb close enough to feel his racing pulse. His own hand moved down and Percy’s long legs parted so easily for him, letting him feel that softer, warmer skin, the more tender parts of him.

The sweet man was hard enough to be steadily leaking pre already. It must have been a while since he’d had someone. Vax gave him a teasing squeeze but continued down, he had a job to do right now and was determined to do it well.

“Easy, sweetling, I just need to…” Vax gasped, their kiss having left his lungs burning around the edges. He snatched up the bottle of lube helpfully left on the nightstand, though with the immense size of the bed it was a bit of a reach. It was cool against his fingers, thick, the oddly scentless scent of it catapulting him back to other places, other bodies, other faces. To realising sex could be a lot of fun, to rediscovering himself under the hands of others.

He would always love it.

“Just get you good and ready…” he murmured, voice breathy and soft. All Percy could do was moan.

Turns out Percy was tight in more than just personality. But Vax’s fingers knew their business well and carefully, so carefully, he made the man underneath him yield. Percy whimpered as Vax’s fingers breached him, slick and cold, igniting everything inside him that had been waiting anxiously for the spark it needed.

“Vax’ildan…” he gasped, fingers tightening in the sheets and the tightly curled hair at the nape of his lover’s neck.

“It’s okay,” the whisper came in return, “Relax, deep breaths…”

Percy followed his instructions, feeling the thrill of giving himself over to someone else’s control. Evening had stolen away when neither of them were looking and the room had quickly become dark so everything was down to just shapes, devoid of detail.

He felt, rather than saw, Vax’s heart beat faster, teasing his own, beckoning for it to follow. He felt their skin pressed together, growing hot. He heard the smile in Vax’s voice, he felt the creeping cold of more lube running between his cheeks, he smelt sex and sweat and something amber sweet in Vax’s hair. He felt his muscles loosen, melting, becoming Vax’s to reshape as he chose.

“Ready for me?” the half elf whispered in his ear, the hand that wasn’t half buried in Percy resting delicately on his chest, almost chastely in bizarre contrast to the fingers that still rocked inside him, coming achingly close to his prostate but very deliberately not getting there.

“I need you,” Percy moaned, nerves prickling at the neediness in his own voice, the pleading.

Vax caught it too, teeth flashing in the gloom as he grinned, “Good boy.”

Not finishing in that moment took all of Percy’s brainpower, leaving him only enough to whimper, hoping that brought across how much he really, really liked that.

Vex shifted, pressing the rounded tip of the toy a breath into Percy, giving a feather soft groan as the pressure brought the other end of the toy flush against where he needed it. Percy himself swallowed back another whine, feeling the sweet stretch of his entrance. Obediently, he hooked his hands behind his knees and brought them to his chest, leaving himself even more open and exposed, offering himself completely.

He got exactly what he wanted. Vax moved further into him, hips finding a comfortable depth then rocking back and forth.

“Gods, that feels good…” Percy’s eyelids fluttered, his voice a smoky rasp, “Deeper…”

“I’m getting there,” Vax sounded delighted, “Let’s not walk before we can run or you’re not going to be able to do either tomorrow.”

But his thrusts were getting deeper, more deliberate, hitting both of their sweet spots at the same time. Percy began to keen at the apex of each one and soon Vax was grunting and gasping along with him, arms starting to shake and fingers starting to claw at the sheets.

“Can you come just from this? Just from having me in your ass?” Vax panted, whole body taut as a drawn bow.

Percy nodded, fingers leaving white marks in his own legs, “Yes, gods, I’m there, I’m coming…”

Vax grinned, timing it perfectly as he leaned in and kissed him deeply, hitting his prostate directly, swallowing Percy’s loud, shaky moan of release as he shuddered through his own.

It was a while before either of them could marshal words but Vax got there first, “And how was that, Percival Frankenstein von Whatever Lilypants?”

Percy made a sound that probably would have managed to be a laugh if he had any breath, “Damn that fucking plant…”

Giggling, Vax drew out of him and rolled onto his back, the whole room tipping around him and settling a little lopsided but he didn’t care.

“So…” Percy rolled over, lying on his stomach, probably getting the sheets filthy but that was already done, “I think this is going to work out?”

“Me too,” Vax smiled, “That was good.”

“I did set up the bank transfer, of course,” he added quickly, “I haven’t forgotten. Before the 15th, right?”

Vax hadn’t realised how heavy the stress of making that month’s rent had been, not until it disappeared in that moment.

“Thanks Percy. And the coffee was really sweet of you, by the way.”

Percy smiled and shrugged, though clearly pleased, “I thought it would be a nice way to start, at least until I get a few more ideas.”

Vax thought for a moment, letting himself actually want, trying to remember how that felt, “I like…oh, I like knives!”

As soon as it was out of his mouth he realised how that sounded and he clamped his jaw shut.

Percy looked at him, “Wait…what?”

“Are you absolutely, positively sure?” Vax asked for what must have been the fiftieth time, “It’s going to leave a hole, you know that?”

Sat on the couch in a loosely cinched blue robe, Percy waved a dismissive hand, “I’ll repair any damage. Go ahead.”

“You might have to wave goodbye to your security deposit…” Vax warned, tossing the kitchen knife lightly from hand to hand, getting a better feel for its weight. Not a throwing knife by any means, a lot heavier and clunkier than his own set, but it would do for a demonstration.

“Vax’ildan, my sweet, if I’d ever had one of those it would have been gone years ago,” Percy arched an eyebrow, “But the company owns the building. Let fly.”

Vax laughed, taking aim at the square white pillar, part of the partition between the kitchen and the living space, immaculately painted and polished. And ideal to plant a knife in. He focused, drew in a long slow breath and then released it as his hand flashed forward.

Half a heartbeat later, the knife was buried half to the hilt in the plaster, a disapproving puff of dust and the ghost of a loud thud settling around it.

“Holy shit,” Percy sounded awed and when Vax turned to look at him, he couldn’t help but notice a now familiar blush in his cheeks.

He’d already texted his sister, giving her a heads up that he was sleeping out at a friend’s. It was only half a lie, Percy could probably be considered a friend at this point.

They just wouldn’t be doing a lot of sleeping.

#sugar daddy au #perc'ildan #percy de rolo #vax'ildan #vex'ahlia #vex and vax #cr fic #critical role #vox machina #modern au #urban fantasy au #smut

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